bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
bmblbee
bmblbee
bloodclaim

Hope House

Title: HOPE HOUSE
8/46
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.


With Jack all but forgotten, Spike hurried back in to the kitchen. He
now had more pressing issues to tend to. While he had been occupied,
several of the other boys had arrived home and were laughing and sitting
down to steaming bowls of nourishing soup before they went to bed.

As required, their pockets had been emptied into a basket that sat by the
door and they were now just a group of happy, relaxed young men, joking
about one's haircut, another's shoes and comparing notes on the latest CDs
they wanted to buy.
During the hours the sun was up, no one in Hope House was a whore.

All conversation stopped when Spike slammed his hand in to the swinging
door and entered the kitchen. He spoke to any and all and when the orders
started flying, each person in the room immediately reacted.

"Let's move. I've got one coming in and he's in bad shape. Andre's bringing
him by taxi any minute now. Steve, Tad and Boots, I want you three to meet
the car, pay the driver and remind him."

Tad took the hundred dollar bill and nodded. He didn't have to be told what
to say to the driver, and truth be told, the driver already knew.

Mrs. Gessel dried her hands and hustled out of the kitchen. She headed
through a side door and in to a small area that had been an employee lounge
when Hope House was still a hotel.

Spike had converted the cramped living area in to a make-shift medical
center and stocked it with the supplies necessary for the injuries that
unfortunately accompanied this type of work. In the center of the room was
a soft, clean hospital bed made up with tight, fresh sheets.

She efficiently set about preparing a tray of gauze pads, a bottle of antiseptic
wash, and a syringe of morphine, all the time wondering what the connection
Jack's punishment had to this new boy.

Contemplation and speculation would have to wait when, minutes later,
three boys hustled in with their arms full of a broken, bloody mess that
Mrs. Gessel would have sworn was past salvaging.

She stood back and pointed to the bed.

"Lay him here and all of you clear out."

They gladly did as told, running from the room and anxious to pour alcohol
over the possibly diseased blood that coated their hands. Mrs. Gessel
glanced over to see Spike standing silently just inside the doorway, then
disregarded him and went about her task of assessing and cataloging the
injuries.

She quickly cut all the clothing off the unconscious boy, wrinkling her
nose at the filth and body fluids that soaked them with a stale stench.
She tossed them to the floor where they could be collected for burning
in the basement furnace later. It was the only way to prevent the body lice
from becoming epidemic.

She showed no indication that she heard the gasp from the Master as
the boy's emaciated, damaged body was bared. Besides the ribs that
could easily be counted, Xander's entire torso was covered with scrapes
cuts and bruises, all in various stage of healing.

Turning to a small sink, she filled a basin with warm soapy water and she
efficiently went to work. The hair was caked with blood and dirt and
she resolved to leave orders that if he lived, his head was to be shaved.

After washing his face, she closed the scalp gash with several butterfly
clips and taped his broken nose. She ran skilled fingers down the back of
his neck and arms and was relieved to find no broken or damaged spinal bones.
After dumping and refilling the pan with clean water, she washed off his body
noting two, possibly three broken ribs.

Spike watched. It made him sick to his stomach to think of what his old
friend had been through. His soul cried and wanted to take the boy in his
arms, rocking, comforting and soothing him. His demon screamed for revenge.

He wanted to rain terror and death down on the humans who had caused this
as well as the friends who had abandoned him to suffer this degradation and pain.
He wanted answers. He wanted to understand how this could have happened
to the boy in the span of one short year.
He wanted Xander whole again.

Gently, she moved his legs apart and began washing his privates. When
the soap and water revealed the red, swollen and infected bite mark on his
inner thigh, next to his sac, Spike growled low in his throat.

When he was rolled over to tape the ribs, Mrs. Gessel noticed the clear black
and blue shaped foot print in his lower back and she knew what Jack had done.
She also realized that urinating would be painful and bloody.

When she hustled to the supply cabinet to retrieve the sterile equipment needed
to insert the catheter, Spike had had enough. He turned and left the room.

Suddenly, the punishment Jack was suffering in the basement was not near enough.
Spike longed for the old days. The time of ripping entrails from a still living
victim. The freedom and satisfaction of bathing in the blood of the wicked and
innocent alike.
The orgasmic release of torture and death.

Judy Gessel paused and watched him go. Curiosity was bubbling just beneath
her scaly skin and wondered just what the hell was going on. One thing she
was certain of was that she needed to do everything in her power to see that
this boy survived.

Quickly, she finished up. She inserted the catheter, attaching the bag to the side
of the bed and she collected the tubing, needles and pouches to put in IV fluids.
After that, she tended to the superficial injuries with ointments and finally covered
him with a warm, clean blanket.

Finally, as an after thought, before leaving the room, Judy Gessel went to the
small, under the counter cooler and she took out a red, glass vial. She inserted
a needle and drew the fluid out before injecting it into the boy's IV.

She watched as the Master's blood flowed through the clear plastic tube and into
the unmoving arm. It was drastic and it was understood that it was a measure
only to be implemented in the most dire of circumstances, but Judy Gessel knew
that was the perfect definition of this situation.
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