bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

Hope House

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.


Willow sat, curled up on the sofa in her small cottage. She had a cup of tea
cooling on the coffee table in front of her and a telephone in her hand.

Ever since the day she realized that she had been duped by Buffy's lies and
Xander had been abandoned, she had thought of nothing else and her argument
with the Slayer over the matter had only made the situation worse.

Sometimes, in life, when we look back over a memory, especially one that
occurred as long ago as this one, it is hard to see it as it really happened.
It appears in our brain like a series of snapshots, frozen in time and preserved
for posterity with the mind's Polaroid.


Fortunately, or unfortunately, friendship is like a filter that covers the lens of the
camera. It distorts the image, softens it and makes it hazy. They say that
perception is reality, but Willow now knows that isn't true. The truth is, the only
reality that counts is that in his time of need, they had turned their backs on him.

Her perception had been that Xander chose to stay behind and make a good
life for himself. Stand on his own and be his own man. She blamed the stress
of the final battle as the reason she didn't go see him and try to persuade him to
come along.

She blamed Buffy for lying to her. She blamed Giles for only buying three
tickets. A year ago she blamed Xander for being a bad friend. Today, she
knew where the blame laid. It was squarely on the doorstep of her own small
comfortable cottage on the Northern coast of England. The only bad friend
had been her.

In her desperation, she had considered using a locator spell but, for now,
decided against it. In this environment, it would be easily detected by Giles
and the others and until she had a better understanding of what was happening
back in the States, Willow preferred more conventional methods. If that failed,
she would do what ever she needed, magic included, to locate Xander.


"Answer the damn......!"

"Good morning. Wolfram and Hart. How may I direct your call?"

"Yes, good morning. This is Willow Rosenburg of the London Watcher's
Council and I wish to speak to Angel......"

"EEEEKKKK! Willow? Hi! It's me. It's Harmony! Wow, small world,
huh? I'll bet you didn't know I was working for Angel, did ya? Well, I am!
Wow, what a coincidence! EEEEEE!! Gosh, how long has it been?"

Willow resisted the urge to quietly hang up the phone after deciding that this little
twist may just work in her favor. It should get her a priority into Angel's office.

"Gee, Harm, it's been a over year. It is so great to hear from you. Hey, look,
I would love to chit chat but I'm calling long distance. How about patching
me through to Angel. I need to speak to him for a quick minute."

Harmony's tone easily slid into professional boredom.

"Sorry, no can do. The big guy is busy and doesn't like to be disturbed."

Willow gritted her teeth and wound a red hair curl around her finger, tugging
on it painfully.

"Sure, I understand. He is very important man. I just need two minutes. How about it
Harm honey? For old times sake?"

"Um. Nope."

"Angel here, how can I help you?"

Willow quickly explained the problem. She omitted the part where Buffy had
stabbed them all in the back. She sidestepped his questions about what the
Slayer was doing, sugar coating her answers and Riley's name was never mentioned.
After a brief conversation regarding how difficult things could be if the Watcher's
Council and Wolfram and Hart were at odds, Angel agreed to send an agent to
Sunnydale to snoop around.

Willow felt only marginally better.

Spike stretched the kinks out of his back, laid down his quill pen and closed
his black ledger. The emotionless impersonality of facts and figures always
calmed him. After a brief admonition to his boys to watch their tongues or
risk having them cut out, Spike had sent them to bed and gone to his den.

It cleared his brain to study the financial bottom line before counting the
morning's take and locking it in the safe. He had noted with a snort, that Jack
had indeed brought in over $500.00. In the past, the hard work and stiff effort
would have earned the boy a pat on the back and the reward of a Master vampire
dick in his mouth. But no more.

Now, Jack was finished. Spike would do what he should have done a long
time ago and by the weekend the little shithead would be long gone and forgotten.
The other boys would be forbidden to ever mention his name and, in no time,
it would be as if he never existed.

Glancing at the time, Spike rose from his chair. He wanted to hurry back to
the bedroom before Xander woke and realized he was alone, or that he had
been locked in.

Before he could step away from his desk, the phone rang.

"Talk to me."
"Spike, it's me."

"Ah, yes, the magnificent Poof. What do you want, Angel?"
"Xander Harris."

Dead silence.

"So why are you calling me?"

Angel rolled his eyes in disgust. Everything with his grandchilde had to be so difficult.

"Willow Rosenburg from the Watcher's Council in London called. They can't
find him and they want someone to look around. You were still in Sunnydale
after they left last year and I thought you might know something."

Spike relaxed. Angel was, at best, fishing and at worst, looking for someone to
do his grunt work for him.

"Nope, don't know anything. Not interested. Call someone else."

"Goddamn it, Spike! Just make some fucking calls. It's the least you can do
considering I gave you the fucking hotel AND turn a fucking blind eye to what you
do there. Just give me somthing so I can call her and keep the fucking Council
off my back. I'm a very important man, Spike. I have issues. I can't be tied up
looking for one wayward teenager. Now, just fucking get on it!"

Spike chuckled. He was not at all intimidated.

"You turn a blind eye? Ain't that a hoot. Like 'em young don't you, Peaches? That
why I've lost count of the number of days Beanie has come home smellin' of your
spunk in his arse and sporting your fang marks on his neck."

This time Angel's end of the line went quiet, giving Spike a minute to consider
the advisability of his looking into the Xander Harris situation versus someone else
and before Angel could decide between outraged denial or amused diversion, Spike
cut him off.

"No problem, Pet. I'll sniff around and see what I can find out about the missing
Harris boy. I ring you up if I locate him."

Angel was relieved to have this distasteful conversation come to an end.

"You're a Prick, Spike."

"*smooch* Love you too Angel"

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