bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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The Crossing

Title: The Crossing
26/41
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.

Spelling checked by the gracious Silk_Labyrinth

NOTICE: The Bee wishes everyone, no matter where you are, a very
Happy Thanksgiving!




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


Xander may have been down but he was far from out.

Stretched out flat on his stomach, Xander desperately tried to escape as he felt the
deep resonating rumble of Titanic's massive boilers vibrate in the floor and up
through his body to shudder in his bones.

His fingernails dug and splintered in the wooden floor planks as he screamed and
kicked wildly against the fingers that circled his ankles like steel bands pulling and
dragging him backwards.

His own voice, high pitched and frantic, filled his ears and brain and blocked out
any other sound until finally, his throat was too raw and hoarse to continue and was
replaced by his silent sobs and whispered pleas for mercy. It was only then, when
he could no longer shout and yell, that he heard the other voice.

"XANDER! Xander, ouch, goddamn it. Stop kicking! XANDER!"

The grip on his ankles marginally lessened and Xander immediately flipped over
onto his back and began scrambling crab-like away from his attacker. It was
then, in the soft golden glow of the hissing gas light that he saw the man's face.

Clear, smooth, beautifully featured and very familiar. Xander swallowed his gasping
sobs and swiped the back of his hand over his tear blurred eyes and snotty nose.
Although he did recognize him, Xander continued to squiggle backward to keep
a safe distance.

He was scared and confused. That wasn't the face he had seen just seconds earlier.
That was a monster. A fiend of indescribable horror and disgust. Had he been wrong?
A trick of the light? Just as he was about to convince himself, Xander's eyes darted
down to the floor where the body of the young woman lay, lifeless, discarded and
seemingly forgotten.

Spike crouched down, his knees bent and his butt bouncing slightly off the ground.
He stayed back allowing Xander the distance that gave him the illusion of safety
and he looked the boy in the eye.

"Xander, let me explain........"

Xander was wild eyed. His lungs felt like they may burst from the overfill of oxygen
he was sucking in and his head buzzed.

"NO! You stay away from me! You killed that girl! You're a murderer! That
deckhand was right! You're Jack the Ripper!"

Spike shook his head and chuckled lightly as though Xander had just told a silly
joke or recited a naughty limerick.

"Is that who they say it is? Jack the Ripper? That is preposterous. He was nothing
but a crazy fool. All that wonderful rich blood pooling on the streets and running
rivulets into the gutters. Shame that. No, Love, I am not the Ripper."

Xander pointed an accusing finger at the crumpled mess on the floor.

"But you did kill her."

Spike clasped his hands together and casually glanced back in the woman's direction.

"Yes, I did. A shame but regrettably, a necessity. You see, Love, it is the law of
the jungle. The strong survive by feeding off the weak. A zoologist in New York
called it 'the food chain'. Everything lives so that it can eventually be food for something
else."

Xander closed his eyes and rubbed his fingertips roughly over his temples to try
and alleviate the pounding headache that was beginning to form deep in his brain.

"No. No that isn't true. Humans don't kill and eat each other. It's wrong. It's
sick. It's a sin."

Slowly, Spike eased himself down to a crosslegged, sitting position, careful not
to spook the boy and set him to scrambling again.

"That's generally true, although there are tribes in New Guinea and other jungle
places that still engage in cannibalism but that's not what we are talking about is it?"

When Xander gave no answer beyond a glare that shot daggers from his eyes,
Spike smiled and continued.

"I was once like you, Xander. Young, sweet and very very innocent. I knew nothing
of the ways of the world beyond my mother's small Victorian parlor. I was her
pride and joy and I lived in a romantic world of books and scholarly pursuits.
I fancied myself a bit of a poet. Unfortunately, I never read Bram Stoker."

Xander sniffled but made no move to advance or retreat.

"Who?"

"Bram Stoker. He wrote a little book in 1897 called Count Dracula. A fanciful,
short story that tells of a man who is bitten by a bat and turns into a monster.
A creature he calls a vampire."

Xander pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.
He tried not to let his line of sight drift to the dead body that lay like a giant
unmentioned elephant in the room while they casually discussed literature.
The entire situation was too absurd to be real.

"What are you talking about?"

"Life and death, Xander. I'm talking about life and death. So, as I was saying,
I fancied myself a bit of a poet, unfortunately the lady that I penned my floral
words of rhyme and reason for found them childish and unworthy of her attentions.
She ridiculed me and my affections in front of several of her friends and I ran from
her house in tears and shame. As I did, I rushed headlong into a dirty alley and
the perfumed bosom of another. It was she who introduced me to my destiny
and my future."

Despite himself, Xander was entranced by the story and waited anxiously as Spike
continued to weave his strange tale of woe.

"Your destiny?"

"Long story short, Xander, the woman in the alley was my darling Drusilla. She
held me in her loving embrace, she bit into my throat and drained the blood and
life from my body. You see, Xander, Love, my Drusilla is a vampire and now,
because of that night in her arms, I too am a vampire."

Spike threw his arms out wide as though offering himself up for inspection and
validation. Xander sat, mouth and eyes wide open and blinked. His brain searched
for any information it contained regarding vampires and all he could come up with was
one night when he had gone to the pub to get Paddy, the old men there took turns
telling stories to try and scare him. It had worked.

"That's a myth. Folklore. It's impossible. Vampires are dead bodies walking
around and killing people by sucking their blood and biting......."

The word 'throats' died on his tongue as he again looked at the woman and the
angry, red wounds on her neck.

Spike tipped his head to the side and his eyebrows rose in an expression that
asked the question "Yes?"

"So you are saying that you have to kill to survive? That you are some sort of
monster that slaughters people and drinks their blood? Bullshit, Spike. That's
just bull....."

"What did you see when you first came in, Xander?"

Xander scooted around uncomfortably.

"The light. It was a trick of the light. I thought you were..... Your face was....
I didn't....."

All other words froze on his tongue as he watched Spike's features shift, slide
and change into something too grotesque to be human.

Xander whimpered, a pitiful sound of fear and disbelief as he tried to pull
back even more hoping to disappear, but then something odd happened.
Spike smiled.

The vicious, bloodthirsty creature held out his hand and for some odd reason,
Xander felt himself marginally relax.

"Take my hand, Xander."

Spike's voice was strange. It was lower and growly and as he spoke, Xander's
body seemed to absorb the words like a sponge. Still, reason and common
sense held him back.

"No. Don't touch me. You want to kill me too."

Spike chuckled. It was a deep throaty sound that skittered up Xander's spine and
caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise. Unfortunately, it also warmed in
his belly and had an equally elevating effect on his cock.

"Have I hurt you Xander? Have I ever given you anything but pleasure? It was
not my choice to be what I am but I won't apologize for it. I am more alive now
than I was before I died. It is a glorious existence. I go where I want and do
whatever pleases me. And you please me. You are the man I have been
searching for. Come to me Xander. Come be with me."

Xander hesitated for only seconds as he stared hypnotically into the strange yellow
eyes. He then unfolded his body and eased over onto his hands and knees, crawling
forward and, with a sigh of relief, he settled into the monster's gentle embrace.
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