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 was restless. He wasn't used to being in bed at this time of the day and
he wanted to be up. His brain was churning with facts and figures and he needed to
work on the ledgers and spread sheet of his business. This morning, he wanted to be
alert and waiting on the boys when they returned in the morning.
Rolling over, he looked through the darkness and into the face of the boy lying next
to him. Sound asleep, Xander's breathing was deep, slow and regular. His face,
no longer marred with bruises or puffiness, now looked like Spike had remembered
it from a year ago. Sweet, young and innocent.
Spike inhaled, filling his senses with the heady, musky smell of the warm human's
sweat and sexuality. Spike was absolutely thrilled. The possessiveness of his
demon howled with ownership as his soul purred happily.
Spike had always felt a kinship with the boy. During the years Xander had stood
by the Slayer, taking up the mantle of a fight that never should have been his,
Spike had watched him. He admired his courage and faithfulness.
He had often wanted to take the chance, to speak to the boy and tell him how
he felt. But, the time was never right. The opportunity never there. In the end,
when he finally left town, it was with the hope that his leaving would free Xander
to find a new life. He was free from the witch, the Slayer and her Watcher, he
also needed to be separated from the resident vampire.
Of all of them, Xander deserved the chance to be like Pinocchio, a real boy.
Apparently, that had been the wrong choice and Spike felt strangely responsible
for whatever ills had befallen his boy. Gently Spike ran his fingers through the
rich brown hair and in the dark seclusion of his bed, he whispered.
"Everything is all right now, Xander. You belong to me now and no one else will
ever hurt you again."
Glancing at the small clock, Spike quietly eased back. He gently crawled over
the sleeping body and crept from the room, closing and locking the door behind
him. He pulled on his lounging pants and proceeded happily to the kitchen.
"Well, well, Master Spike. Don't you look rested. How is our patient? Is he
resting? You haven't tired him out have you?"
Spike tried to scowl at her impudence but failed and the smile that tugged at the
corners of his mouth prevailed.
"You hush! Fix me a cup of tea. I want to speak to the others when they return
and then I have some book work to catch up on in the study. Did Jack give you
any guff when he left last night?"
Mrs. Gessel snorted in disgust.
"No, he grumbled, but he left. Master, I don't want to speak out of turn but I have
a bad feeling about that one."
"Yeah, I don't think Wendell made enough of an impression. That is part of what
I need to talk to them about."
Judy Gessel quickly fixed the tea and before he had time to finish it, the back kitchen
door burst open and they all filed in, chatting happily, tossing wads of cash in the
basket and joking and shoving. The jovial mood would not last.
Silently, Spike rose from his chair, took the leather strap off it's hook of prominence
on the wall and without a comment or question, brought in down sharply across
Jack's back . Three more cracks of the strap tore through his shirt and finally his
skin leaving bloody trails that soaked the fabric causing it to stick to his ripped flesh.
The sharp sound was like that of a snapping bullwhip splitting through the air.
Jacks screams of pain echoed, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, seeming louder
than possible due to the sudden shocked silence as the others watched in horror.
Together they had all rushed to the far corner of the kitchen, knocking over chairs
and spilling cups of milk and they clustered together, cringing for safety.
On the fourth smack, Jack fell to the floor and Spike stopped. He then turned
to the others, waving the bloody strap in his fist.
"This is what happens when you run your mouth. This is what happens when
you lie and this is what you get when you betray your Master!"
The other boys clung to each other, pleading silently with their faces that whatever
Jack had done had nothing to do with them. A collective sigh of tentative relief filled
the air when Spike snatched the injured boy from the floor and dragged him away.
Calmly, Mrs. Gessel began setting up platters of chicken and potatoes. Obediently,
they sat. With no chattering conversation, the boys ate their meal and prepared for bed.
Jack, kicking and struggling up the stairs, jerked and tugged trying to free himself from
the iron grip of the fuming vampire. When they reached the top attic floor, Jack's
demands for information turned to pitiful pleas for forgiveness.
"I'm sorry. Wait, I'm sorry. Hey, I got the money! I got the $500.00. Go look.
Go count it."
Spike gave no response.
When they reached a small separated room, Spike opened the door and tossed
him inside causing the boy to land on his bloody back and scream again in agony.
Marching past him, Spike went directly to the corner closet and retrieved a small
wooden box. It was an identical box to the ones that each of the boys had in their
own rooms. Most of the time it was merely a visual reminder, sometimes, like now,
it was more.
When Jack saw what Spike held in his hand, he immediately started to scramble to
his feet hoping to make a mad dash for the door. Spike, of course, was quicker.
Reaching into the box, Spike withdrew a set of chains which he quickly snapped
around the boy's wrists tightly.
"Please, no, Master, please no. Please tell me what I did."
Ordinarily, Spike would give him no explanation or conversation, but this time
was different. This time he wanted Jack to know that by fucking with Xander
he had signed his own death warrant.
When he spoke, his voice was deceivingly calm and quiet.
"What did you tell Xander about me, Jack?"
Jack's eyes bugged wide with horror. The fucking little shit had told!
"No, Spike, no! I just wanted him to go. I wanted him to run away, that's all.
I thought if he was gone, you would want me again. I belong with you Master.
I belong in your bed. Please, I just wanted to scare him off so he would go away."
When he saw that his pleas were falling on deaf ears, Jack took another route
and began to cry, tipping his head to the side.
"I love you, Master. You know I love you. Please take my blood. Bite me.
It's your's. I'm yours. Please Master."
Spike finished snapping the chains on his wrists and ankles and securing the clasps
to the rings that were built in to the walls. He then stepped back and looked down
on the disgusting boy that he had permitted to get so out of hand.
When Jack saw that Spike was leaving, he rattled the chains and called to him.
"Wait, wait, how long am I going to be here?"
Spike stopped with his hand on the door knob and his back to the boy.
Jack visibly relaxed and smirked.
'Fuck' He thought. 'I can do two days standing on my head.'
With no further discussion, Spike walked away with an evil grin of his own. Two
days would give him plenty of time to make the sale with Wendell.