bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

The Crossing

Title: The Crossing
Author: BmblBee
Paring: S/X
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters or products named and
makes no money off anything. Sad state of affairs.
Warnings: Bad language, strong sexual content between M/M.
Second warning: Although I did do a lot of research, this story is not intended to
be an exact historical account so please don't scream and pounce on a detail or
two that may not be entirely accurate.

Credit: The snippets at the tops of the pages are from a web site entitled "Titanic,
A Time Line of Events". Earl Chapman on the Titanic Discussion List originally
published this chronology of events. Chapman modified it slightly in 1997. The
1997 version formed the basis of this timeline.

Summary: AU. It is the spring of 1912 and Xander Harris, who has been living
with relatives in Ireland, is heading home. As a gift of love, he was booked
passage on the maiden voyage of the Titanic with the promise that it will be the
adventure of a lifetime.

Author's note: This story is NOT a retelling of any of the Titanic movies.
It is the tale of one man and one vampire forgotten by history and the destiny they
both find on this doomed crossing.

This chapter was betaed by silk_labyrinth however, you know how bullheaded
the Bee is so if there are still boo boos, don't blame her.

As always, thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banners and the valued friendship.

Spike hunkered back. He stood in the dark concealment of the cubby hole beneath
the steps that led from one deck level to the next one up. He held his long overcoat
around his slim body as though he were trying to preserve body heat from dissipation
in the damp night air.

A prospect completely moot due to the fact that Spike had no body heat.

He watched, out of sight, as the young man searched for him in all directions. At one
point, the boy turned his weak, useless human vision bullseye on him and still saw
nothing. Spike tipped his head slightly to allow the bill of his hat to dip low preventing
the yellow glow of his demon's eyes from piercing the darkness and giving away his

When the young man again turned his back to him, Spike lifted his face and watched.
He saw the slight shrug of confusion in the young man's shoulders as he eased, one
last time, toward the rail of the boat to gaze off into the inky blackness of the mysterious,
ominous ocean.

Spike could feel the boy's longing for the answers of life. He was drawn to his youth,
his innocence and his indecisions. He knew the young man was at the age of crossroads.
The time when choices were made before the understanding of those roads' destinations
were made clear.

Spike watched intently. He studied every twitch, every nuance of the boy's body language.
He studied him more to understand what it was about the human that held him so
entranced rather than the human himself. With no certain answer forthcoming, Spike
stayed in the shroud of darkness even as the young man turned and walked away.

After he was long gone, Spike closed his eyes and leaned back against the cold metal
of the ship's siding and he sighed. When he opened his eyes, the reality of his own
existence returned to him and he knew it was time to get moving. For him, this was
early. His lunar daybreak, and unless he was mistaken, his breakfast was waiting.

Spike turned and blended off invisibly into the fog. He proceeded from the second
class deck down, down, down toward the lowest level of human occupation.
Descending toward steerage. Into the third class passenger areas where the nameless,
faceless humans could go missing without too much notice or fuss made.

It was a demon's buffet. It was the reason he chose to make the crossing on the
great ship Titanic.

Spike had boarded the ship on it original launching in Belfast. He had been kicking
around Europe for years with his family, of sorts. His Sire and the love of his life, Drusilla.
Her sire, the great lump, Angelus and his sire, her royal bitchiness, Darla.

They had moved through several of the old countries, stopping in places like Prague,
Budapest, Hungary, and Transylvania. They had slaughtered the locals and livestock,
feeding and fucking their nights away as they slept during the day in the homes of the
dead and the barns of the doomed.

They had laughed hysterically as they ran at an impossible speed to stay just a step
ahead of the ranting mobs of peasants with pitchforks and torches. Nearly being
caught was part of the game and the excitement. It wasn't foolish miscalculation.
It was designed to tempt fate. It eased the boredom of eternal life.

It had been an ideal existence, one that Spike had imagined would go on as is,
but everything, like the assurance of life itself, must end. The end of Spike's
happiness had occurred in Athens.

They had arrived because Drusilla wanted to consult the oracles. The others had
tried to explain to her that the oracles were an era that had died off centuries ago
but she insisted that her dreams told her that she would find her destiny there, so
they went.

Shortly after their arrival in Greece, they had settled into a quiet coastal town in a
small abandoned boat shed. From the smell, no humans had used it for months
and the group felt safe as they slept during the bright, sunny days, and it was within
striking distance of the taverns and villages that teemed with life at night.

The village was picture postcard perfect. It should have been foolproof. Instead, it
proved to be a disaster. Like common tourists, they cruised the ruins, taking Drusilla
to all the rambling stone relics of the past great civilization. They stood by, amused
as she whirled and twirled in the moonlight, chanting and babbling in a sing songy
voice of Gods and Goddesses, visions and myths.

As the days went on and her interest grew into an obsession, the others had
trouble dragging her away to hunt and feed. The gossip of the locals was that the
demons of hell had taken up residence in the ancient ruins. Within weeks, the
stress of the situation began to take it's toll.

Darla became moody and secretive. She had always been cruel, but never toward
her beloved Drusilla. Now she was impatient. She snapped at her grandchilde
and refused to hunt with her, preferring to take Angelus, sometimes disappearing
for days. At some point, Spike realized they had moved on.

Spike had done his best. When she insisted, he complied with her demands to
bring young virginal sacrifices to the stone altars where she would kill and drain
them before begging Spike to fuck her for hours on end as the stars sang to her
from above.

The breaking point had come the night that, in his haste, Spike had chosen the
Mayor's own daughter as the evening meal. The vampires, naked and bathed in
the girl's blood were surrounded by cross wielding, stake carrying villagers with
murder in their eyes.

Spike lunged toward the group, snarling and allowing himself to be captured in
order to give Drusilla a chance to escape. When he felt she was safe, he turned
and attacked. By the time the fight was over, he had cross shaped burns seared
into his flesh and splinters of wood piercing his chest, just missing his cold dead
heart by inches.

He hid out and healed for days before deciding he, too, had had enough. Drusilla
made no attempt to find or help him and although he understood it was the insanity
that drove her on, this time he had reached his limit.

When he emerged, he read a newspaper article on the miracle that was the Titanic,
and he decided that was just the change of scenery he needed. He immediately
worked his way north to Ireland and arrived in Belfast just days before the sailing.

Boarding had been simple. He had paid good money to have a crate constructed,
packed in secrecy and delivered to be loaded into the hull of the ship for transport
to New York. Once the ship had sailed, he was free to roam the halls and decks
at night and return to the security of the hole during the day.

It was a system that worked flawlessly. The third class level was crammed to
overflowing with immigrants hoping for a better life in the new world. A country
where the streets were paved with gold and every man could get a job and every
young girl could get a successful husband.

It was a vampire's dream. Watch for a wounded animal. Cull the herd. Select
one, male or female and separate them from their group. There were any number
of dark secluded areas on the ship where lovers could go and find the privacy
needed for passion and murder.

With a full stomach and a sated libido, he would toss the empty shell overboard
and slither off, unseen and unknown. Unfortunately, it did not satisfy his deepest
need. Spike was lonely. He had never been a solitary creature and he craved
the companionship of another. Someone to walk with, talk with and share the
intimacies that make time on earth bearable.

He had promised himself that he would find someone in New York. Surely a
city as huge as that contained one person. One human or demon who would
join him in this long walk through the years. Someone sane.

But that was for later. For now, he was content to enjoy the night air, the sight
of the ocean and the glorious walks on the upper decks of the amazing ship that
was the Titanic.

Now he was intrigued. The young man on the deck had caught his eye and
Spike decided to seek him out. Find his cabin and get a better look at him. Later.
Right now he was late for a rendezvous and he quickly picked up his pace.

"William? Oh, there you are. I have been waiting. You are late and I was beginning
to think you weren't coming. I had to sneak away from the others and I thought......."

Spike grinned widely and sauntered up to where the young girl was standing, insecure
and trembling in the dark of the small storage room where they had agreed to meet.

"Am I late, Love? You simply must forgive me. Look how cold you are. Come
here and let me hold you till you stop shivering."

With an innocent, shy smile, the Irish peasant girl hurried into his arms.
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