bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
bmblbee
bmblbee
bloodclaim

Hope House

Title: HOPE HOUSE
3/46
Author: BmblBee
Paring: Primarily S/X with a very minor S/OCs.
Rating: NC17 Adult Reading
Disclaimer: The Bee has no claim on any of the characters or
products named in this story and receives no profit from anything.
Warnings: Adult language, Prostitution, Violence, strong sexual
content. NOTE: All the boys working in Hope House are over
the age of 18. The Bee does not do underage!

Summary: Long after the final battle of Sunnydale, Xander is
alone, his life in shambles. Is there anywhere he can go and anyone
who can give him hope? There just might be.





As always, kudos to Petxnd for the wonderful banner.


Spike rolled over in his soft, warm bed. He could sense the night
time rapidly approaching and he knew he should be getting up.
Without opening his eyes, he could hear the heartbeat of the boy
beside him and listened to the deep steady breathing that signaled he
had not yet woken.

Spike lay still, soaking up the heat that rolled off the living body that
curled up, naked and burrowed in covers. He hated sleeping alone
and a regular stream of fuck toys/midnight snacks was the main perk
to running Hope House, haven for homeless boys.

Spike sighed and stretched out on his back, placing his hands under his head
and he pondered his spot in the universe.
He thought back over the last year that, to a creature who had lived more
than a century, seemed forever ago. After the near fall of the world. After
their struggle to defeat the First and close the hellmouth, it had all been
so anticlimactic.

He was dismissed. Relegated back to the crypt and his nonexistence,
his place of unimportance, where he took a good hard look at himself and his
so called life. He was disgusted with what he saw.

Spike was the first to admit that he hated being alone. He had been crippled
by the insertion of the chip and the unexpected return of his soul and he
had aligned himself with the Slayer and her little band of dogooders simply
in the name of survival and companionship.

For a time, it filled a need in him. A need to belong and to feel that he was
part of something bigger than himself. He felt accepted. Wanted. By the end,
the time of the final battle, he had foolishly allowed himself to think they were
his friends.

It was a misconception that became glaringly clear when the Slayer, her
Watcher, the Witch and the Bit all packed up and sailed across the pond
to start a new life. He had hidden in the shadows and seen them all pile into
the car and leave for the airport without so much as a fond farewell or a
kiss my arse.

He had noticed that the boy, Xander, didn't go along and Spike wondered
whose decision that was. He suspected it was the Slayer's. After one week of
laying drunk, three days of wrecking havoc in the town's cemeteries, and one
night of fucking a Prakle demon, Spike knew it was time for him to go too.

Sunnydale had lost it's appeal.

He decided to head to L.A., maybe look up his Sire. Maybe find a place for
himself. Maybe not. At any rate, he needed to try. Surprisingly, he was thrilled
when his first night in the city he stumbled into a demon biker bar. After
a few beers another vampire had given him the name of a human surgeon who
had perfected the art of chip removal. Bloke by the name of House.

Spike had paid the good doctor a late night visit and within an hour, found
himself free of the blistering pain provided by the cranial insert.
He was himself again! Oddly, he was at peace with the soul. It allowed
him to drink human blood as long as he didn't kill, torture, or rend the
donor in question. A condition he was comfortable with.

The few times he had killed since coming to the city, had been self defense
or easily justified by telling himself that some humans just need killing.
It was Spike logic and he was good with it.

At first, he had freelanced with AI, choosing to ignore the fact that the very
sight of him seemed to turn Angel's stomach, which was probably the reason
he preferred doggie style when he fucked Spike so he didn't have to look
him in the face.

Spike didn't care. He only wanted Angels cock, not his heart. When his sire
was busy sliding the meat to the Princess or the werewolf girl, or even to
Wesley, Spike contented himself to hitting the streets. He knew there was
always a plethora of young boys willing to give up arse or mouth for a few bob.
Thanks to blackmail, Spike had more than a few and Angel a few less.

Of course, as Spike knew well, nothing in life ever stayed the same and before
long, Angel and his crew were moving on to take over Wolfram and Hart.
They had all half heartedly asked him to come along, but Spike had a bad
feeling about that place and couldn't understand why Angel didn't see it.
In the end they had had a consensual parting of the ways.

AI moved on up to the East side, to a deluxe apartment in the sky and
Spike settled in to the Hyperion, his brain already stirring the pot of his
next money making enterprise.

It was to convert the Hyperion into Hope House, a place that welcomed
wayward street boys with open arms and offered them the chance to
start a new life.
A life that would financially benefit Spike.

He started out with three of his regular boy fucks and he brought them
in under his protection. He gave them a safe place to live and work, food
to eat and medical care if needed. All this was in exchange for a cut of
their earnings and the understanding that any time Spike wanted to use
them for his own pleasure, bites included, they would make themselves
available.

In time, each of the three had brought others in. All had to be inspected
and interviewed. Some were rejected immediately. Spike had no interest
in the attention an underaged boy attracted or the aggravation of a drug addict.

Some freaked out and ran when they realized that the master of the house
really was and honest to God, cross fearing, holy water burning, sun allergic,
vampire.

Most stayed. They knew it was better than anything the streets had to
offer and besides, a simple butt fuck, a neck bite, and a few bucks off the
top were small prices to pay for the protection of a master vampire.
All in all, it was a good deal and his soul was relatively comfortable.

Spike nudged the sleeping boy beside him.
"Hey, Jack, get up mate. Sun's down and you need to be out on the stroll.
Can't earn any dosh by kippin' about in bed."

Jack wriggled around and slid his hand down under the sheets where he wrapped
his fingers around Spike's flaccid penis.

"Aww. Come on, boss. Wouldn't you rather I stayed here? You can fuck me again.
Or I can suck your cock. You know you like it when I finger your hole while I
suck you."

Spike knew it was a mistake fucking Jack again. As one of the original three boys,
Jack was under the mistaken impression that he was more than the others. In fact
Spike had beaten him just last week for refusing to work the streets and trying
to take a cut of Tad's money to present as his own.

Spike knew something needed to be done, but he just wasn't ready to do it.
The boy really could suck cock.

Spike reached down and clamped his hand painfully around Jack's

"I got a better idea. How about you get the fuck up and go earn your keep before I decide to give your room to someone else?"

The second it was released, Jack snatched his hand back and stared at the
ring of black and blue that was starting to color his wrist and he scowled.
He knew better than to refuse or even complain. Spike could be a sadistic
bastard when he wanted.

Jack got up, snatched his clothes off the floor and left for work.
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