Paring: Spander (of course)
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.
Bee note: On a very personal note (note the icon) The Bee wishes everyone a very
Happy Thanksgiving. All of you who take the time to read and comment, and even
those who don't, you are all on the Bee's 'things to be thankful for' list.
The Bee loves you all!!
Thanks to the amazing Petxnd for the banner.
Nothing Oz could say, despite the fact that nothing was said with actual
words, could deflate the buoyant feel in Xander's heart about the wonderful
time he and Spike had shared yesterday.
The grumbling comment Oz had made about "sloppy seconds" as the
reason he wouldn't snuggle just made Xander laugh. By midnight, when
he thought Xander was asleep. Oz slid in next to him.
The next morning, the sun seemed brighter and the eggs less watery
than they had the days before. Xander all but hummed as he lined
up for movement and he just shrugged when C.O. Riley told him to wipe
the fucking smile off his face. He didn't care that people thought he looked
like an idiot.
He felt like a king.
After chow, the dayroom was exceptionally mellow. The television
was on a talk show rather than the endless BET video's and the card
games were light hearted and easy.
The announcement had most of the Inmates attention as they waited for
word from loved ones. Xander dealt the next hand. He wasn't bothered.
His loved one would be here in less than 5 hours.
Xander frowned and looked over to where Riley was waving a small
brown wrapped package.
"Move your ass Harris, I got people waiting."
Xander walked over and took the package. He turned it over and noticed
the return address listed an 'Uncle Bill Harris' as the sender. Xander was
stumped. Uncle Bill was a joke. Made up for Oz and laughingly shared
with Spike. Uncle Bill did not exsist.
He returned to the table where Catfish, with his odd lisp, demanded he open
it. NOW. So Xander shrugged and did. Inside was a neatly wrapped box
containing a small portable radio.
The enclosed note read:
I hope this helps pass the time. It has batteries but you can buy more
through the commissary. I put $50.00 in your account. Think of me when
you listen to it.
Xander was thoroughly confused. Uncle Bill? Uncle Bill? Finally, when
he heard the exasperated sigh coming from his disgusted cellmate, Xander
got the hint.
"Ooohhh, yeah, good ole Uncle Bill. We've really had some great times,
me and Bill."
Catfish was all but drooling at the sight of something as coveted as a real radio.
"Thit! Thath neat ath fuck! You better take that to yer thell before Thteele tries
to thcam you out of it."
Xander dodged the spit that flew from Cat's lips as he spoke but knew the
con was right on and he waved his hand as he discreetly tucked the prize
under his arm.
"Yo, Mr. Riley. Cell#3"
Riley waved his approval and Xander and Oz scampered down the hall. When
the door opened they both hustled inside.
Oz jumped up on his bunk and watched as Xander set it up.
"That's fucked up."
Xander carefully turned the dial, hunting for the best country station.
"Don't play with me. We both know who sent that."
"So what if he did? Wouldn't it have to go through the business office?
That takes days. That means he had to send the money before we......"
Oz slapped his hands over his ears.
Xander just laughed and continued his search for redneck entertainment.
Oz sniffed as though one of them had eaten something foul that
was now coming back to gas them.
"You know what that makes you if you keep it?"
Xander finally zeroed in on 99.9 and the strains of "Country Man" bounced
around the small room. He smiled and Oz tapped his foot. Through silent
agreement, both men decided that perhaps the best thing to do was keep the
gift in the spirit with which it was given. After all, no one wanted to hurt good
old Uncle Bill's feelings.
Spike dragged around his quiet apartment. He had never noticed how
lonely it was before now. He had always loved living by himself, coming and
going with no explanations to anyone. Now he could almost see someone
else crowding in on him, stealing his newspaper, drinking his milk.
It might be nice.
He never cared if an inmate was guilty or innocent and to be perfectly
honest, he didn't care this time either. He just wanted Xander out. If he
had killed his lover, there must have been a good reason. Self defense.
Justifiable homicide. Accidental manslaughter.
With Xander on his mind, Spike plugged his cell phone into the port on his
computer. He hoped Wesley would be able to take and transmit Warren's
picture before he had to leave for work. If Xander knew him and could
give them a full name, it would be a new suspect the police would have to
Wesley had said that Xander didn't get an adequate defense and would
surely get another trial. If this thing with Warren what's-his-name falls through,
they still might be only looking at a year before the wheels of justice turn and
unlock the front gates to let him out.
Spike stopped in front of his full length mirror and stared at himself.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?"
He stared at the image. He looked strange, different, almost as though
he were another person. Suddenly, he wanted things to go back to the
way they were.
He knew he had taken a ridiculous risk and was just lucky enough
not to get caught.
He had sent money and a gift to an inmate. He had fucked an inmate.
"Holy, fucking shit!"
The magnitude of it was overwhelming.
Still, through it all, he knew he didn't want to go back. He knew the
thought of seeing Xander each day was what had become the driving
force in his life.
He groaned and dropped his head.
Corrections Officer William Pratt was falling in love.