bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

Hard Time

Author: BmblBee
Paring: Spander (of course)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bad language and explicit sexual m/m activity.
Summary: Xander is wrongly convicted of murder and sent
to Riverview Correctional Institution where Spike is a guard.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or products named in
this story and sadly, make no profit.
AS 4

Thanks to the amazing Petxnd for the banner.

The next two days dragged hour by hour, feeling like a month. It was
the last of Xander's cell confinement and it gave him way too much alone
time to think and brood.

He regretted yelling at Spike and knew Oz was right when he said that
Spike was in no position to stand in the cell door way and argue his
feelings. Assuming he had any. A point Xander and Oz agreed to
disagree on.

It cut through him like a knife that Spike had made no more effort to come
and look in on him, sending his partner down the hallway with his
restriction trays. He desperately needed to see him, to talk to him, to see
if something between them could be salvaged or if he was again faced
with desolation.

Finally, it was Thursday evening. Xander could hardly control his excitement.
He knew that when he arose on Friday morning, he would be allowed to
go to chow with the rest of the housing unit. It was a ridiculous reason to
be happy, but Xander had resolved to take his pleasures where he found them.

He was alone in the cell as Oz had just left for the supper movement and
Xander sat waiting on his tray, hoping against hope that Spike would be the
one to bring it. When he heard the sound of the keys turning in the lock
of his cell door, Xander jumped to his feet only to be disappointed when
C.O. Lehane stepped in.

After handing him his tray, she paused and he knew from the look on
her face she was pissed. Although low and discreet, the tone of her
voice left no confusion as to the emotion behind it.

"Let me tell you something, Harris. I don't know what type of game you
are playing, but you are done playing it with Spike. If you think fucking
with him will make your time easy, maybe by him giving you privileges
or sneaking in contraband, I'm here to tell you that won't happen.
When you come off restriction tomorrow, I'm going to be watching you
like a hawk. Fuck up one time. Please, just one time cause I will
personally make sure you are transferred to "E" unit and tossed to the
gang bangers like Alpo to starving pit bulls. You understand me?"

Xander was too stunned to speak. He stood in the center of his cell with
his supper tray cooling and smelling in his hands. He nodded his head.
It was all she needed and he could tell there were no words she wanted
to hear. C.O. Lehane turned and slammed the cell door shut.

He set his tray down on the small desk that extended from the wall.
He had lost all interest in the odd puddle of noodles and pink sauce
that coagulated on his dinner tray as his thoughts spun.
'What did Spike tell her?'

He could feel his heart beat race along with his brain.
'Spike thinks I'm with him just to get over? Is that why he wouldn't
come down and talk? She wants me transferred. Does Spike want
that too?'

The last thought was the one that scared him the most. He knew that
typically, an inmate only spent three months on intake, but he also
knew there were exceptions.

Catfish, down in #12 was a permanent fixture on "I" unit for PC. Born
with extreme physical deformities, he had at least 20 operations all
through his life to try and give him a somewhat normal appearance.
The result had been a face that was wide and flat, his eyes too far apart
and a double hairlip that was as good as it was going to get.
Catfish had told Xander that he was a work in progress.

Xander understood that Cat was one of life's victims and, if thrown into
general pop, would be caught, hook, line and sinker and devoured within
days. Still, if Cat could stay, why not Xander?

Hadn't he been through enough? Wasn't serving time for a crime he hadn't
committed cruel enough? Xander knew the his little episode with MoMac
and Leroy were just a taste of what he would suffer every single day in
the jungle of general pop. He had already come to terms with the fact that
he would have to either give up who he was, becoming like them, or die.
To be honest, he hadn't chosen a side yet.
Xander's good mood was dead and buried.

Angel breezed through his dayroom, surveying his kingdom.
It was all quiet and calm, just the way he liked it. A few inmates were
back in a corner, reading, four more playing spades, and the majority
were watching television.

He knew the card players were probably betting on the outcome of the game
and the book readers either touching each other or whispering about naughty
illicit things, but Angel didn't care. His inmates were not on his unit because
they were the best in the institution, they were here because they understood.

They understood that you could do what you had to do as long as you kept
it on the q.t. Low key, quiet, under the radar, so to speak. If you gambled,
you paid your fucking debt and didn't put it out there for the staff to know
about. If you fucked your cellmate, you did it quietly and with his permission.

It was not a life that most Riverview inmates wanted. There was no
violence, strong arming and street crime, but it suited these men. And it
certainly suited Angel.

"O'Connor! Telephone!"

Angel returned to his office, stepping in and accepting the phone from his
"O'Conner here."
"Yes, officer O'Connor, this is warden Giles."

Angel smirked at the terse tone in his future father-in-laws voice. He
knew Buffy had probably returned the pre-nup and he had the old man
by the short hairs. Game on, he thought.

"Yes, sir. what can I do for you?"
"You can prepare for two new inmates. I have checked the numbers and your
unit is low on pop. I am going to send two men from Intake. They were on
restriction and I don't want any further problems when they come off tomorrow."

Angel was caught totally off guard.
"What? No! No, my unit is for positive program inmates. You send me thugs
and they will disrupt the whole housing unit. No, you can't....."

"Officer O'Connor! I am the warden of Riverview and I make the decisions.
Whatever authority you believe you are exercising does NOT extend to
the running of the prison. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Angel sputtered. He understood perfectly. He had sent the ball into
Giles court and Giles skillfully lobbed it back.

"Now, don't concern yourself that they will cause too much of a disruption.
In fact, I will personally come to the housing unit and speak to them about
their behavior, and the good new is, they will only be down there for a
week or so till I have an opening elsewhere."

What could Angel say? He was beat. For now.
"Yes, sir, Warden. You're the boss."

"Yes, Mr. O'Connor, I do believe I am."
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