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.

Spelling checked by the gracious Silk_Labyrinth

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

Sunday April 14th

7:40 PM Second Officer Lighttoller notes in his log that as the sun set, the
temperature had begun to drop drastically. The sea was unusually calm and the
sky was clear.

Xander rushed up the restricted stairway, back through the blindingly dark
tunnels and passways in which he had come. Now the lack of light held no
power over him. There was no fear in his heart or stumbling in his step. He
knew what sort of creature lived in the world of the night and it was not something
that left him trembling. At least not in a bad way.

The boy's smile only faltered briefly when he thought about what Spike was doing
right now. The distasteful task of disposing of the remains of his dinner. It was
surely a very sad thing but one that was already done and regrettably necessary.
There was no point in crying over spilled milk or, in this case, blood.

It brought Xander's mind a sliver of consolation to know that when they reached
New York, the problem of regular meals would be solved in the boroughs and
corners where the criminals and the humans that needed removed from decent
society lurked anyway. He and Spike would be doing the world a great service.

When he reached the outside doorway on his way to the dining hall, Xander had
to stop. Despite the freezing cold air that immediately enveloped him and caused
a stinging tingle in his fingers, cheeks and nose, Xander wrapped his arms around
himself and he moved to the railing to look out over the amazing sight of the vast

He leaned dangerously far over the side and stared down, squinting to see the
wake as it splashed up against the sides of the ship. He could just make out the
shadows of the objects that floated on the surface, bouncing off the steel
and tumbling away. It took him a minute to realize that they were chunks of ice.
When that knowledge hit him, a body wracking shudder ran through him and it
felt like the blood in his veins was starting to turn sluggish and freeze.

Quickly he backed up and turned, hurrying as fast as his chilled legs would take
him, toward the warmth and comfort of the dining hall. Within seconds, he
jerked open the door and he stuck his head in, relieved to see that most of the
passengers, apparently Yvette included, had already partaken of the evening meal
and moved on to other activities.

He took his seat and for the next hour enjoyed a huge dinner, a pleasant bit of
conversation with the others at his table, and he refused to allow his brain to
visit anything unpleasant or that teetered on the edge of moral ambiguity.
Not tonight. He was in love with Spike and Spike was in love with him.
Nothing could spoil that. Not even a rare disease that, together, they could
either find a cure for or learn to live with.

Nope. There was nothing on earth that could shatter his happiness tonight.

Spike, too was walking on air. Did he dare allow himself to hope? Was it
really possible that he had found someone willing to stroll with him through
this tangled thorn bush of time? It's true that his love was a lowly human
but that is a condition that would be corrected later.

Once they got to New York, they would do all the silly tourist things. They
would saunter through the streets, visit the diverse neighborhoods and spend
their nights together. The days would be for them alone. Cocooned in a
small apartment, Spike would teach the boy all the sweet mysteries of love
and sex with another man.

There was no hurry to turn him. Spike craved the boy's heat as he buried himself
balls deep in the hot, pulsing, living body. His mind's eye painted a picture of the
vampire looming over the pliant, submissive body of the smiling, sweating boy.
He could imagine hooking his arm under his boy's heavy thigh as he slid in and
out while he watched the vein in his neck throb, begging to be bitten.

Spike sighed happily before realizing that he had been standing in the middle of
the cargo hold, with a goofy grin on his face and a dead body at his feet for the
better part of an hour while he daydreamed like a smitten schoolboy.

He needed to get a move on. The night was full of promise and he had a lover
waiting on him. By now, Xander should be finished with his dinner and Spike
had his own table scraps to toss over for fish food. Wasting no more time, Spike
heaved the body over his shoulder and he leapt up the steps from the storage area
to the second deck level.

He whistled cheerfully as her swinging arms slapped against his back with each step
almost in time with the tune on his lips and he headed directly for the service door
at the end of the hallway. It was an access entry used by ship personnel that went
directly to a small spot on the outer deck. It was a shortcut of sorts that allowed
the kitchen help to deliver room service trays as expeditiously as possible. It
was a metal door not used by passengers. It was Spike's personal garbage disposal.

Generally, Spike took precautions. He would pretend that they were errant lovers
cuddling on a forbidden area of the ship. He would wrap his coat protectively around
her small, fragile body and hold her close to his, sometimes even leaning down and
kissing her cold, slack lips. Then, when he had assured himself that there were no
inquisitive stares or intrusive glances, he would, in a flash, snatch his overcoat away
and slip the body over the railing. With the sound of the boiler engines and the
ever present wake, the splash was completely inaudible even to him.

Tonight, however, he was distracted. His mind and thoughts were filled with the
living instead of the dead and his careful considerations were ignored.

As he charged through the outside door, Spike tipped his head up and sniffed.
The freezing night air crystallized in his nostrils and stung his eyes but carried
no trace of danger. Anxious now to get this distasteful task over with, Spike
flipped the body off his back. He was somewhat surprised to see that the
stiffness of rigor mortis had already begun to creep throughout her small frame
telling him that too much time had been wasted and she had probably been missed.

So, with no pomp or ceremony, no tearful words of goodby and no bible verses
with which to ensure the golden chariots would come to collect the soul, Spike
nonchalantly flipped her over the rails and into the drink.

Deckhand Riley Finn felt his bowels churn. He had just come around from the
kitchen with a mop to clean up a reported spill on deckside when he saw
what his eyes refused to believe was true. A shadowy figure. A man in a dark
overcoat that matched the description that they had been given of a possible
murderer. A man standing at the rail of the ship, tossing a bundle into the
frigid waters.

As soon as the body left his hands, Spike could feel the warning tingle in his
spine. He was being watched! His face morphed and his head snapped around
in the direction of implied danger and their eyes locked.

The sight of the yellow, piercing eyes glowing through the dark night sent a terror
ripping through Riley's body. His lips parted but no sound came out. Panic had
a solid grip on him that prevented any sound or movement. In a blink of the eye,
Spike closed the distance between them and he snarled, hissing and reaching for
the worthless creature that would complicate his life.

Finally, Riley's voice came back to him, although it was low, shaky and unsure.

"No! Nnnno. You get away from me."

He took two steps back and raised the mop in front of him. Reason told him
he looked ridiculous, instinct cried out for him to use whatever he had in his hands
as a weapon.

A tingle of excitement skittered down Spike's spine. If the man had stood his ground,
Spike would have simply tossed him overboard to his death but by retreating, it
spurred the demon to crave a game of cat and mouse. His body crouched slightly
as he eased closer, slower now, to give his victim the illusion of possible escape.

"Come here, boy. Come closer so I can kill you. Do you know how it will
feel when I rip your skin from your body while you still breathe? Did you
ever hear the squishy sound of a beating heart as it is torn from a chest?"

With an evil, maniacal grin on his face, Spike slinked forward while Riley matched
him step for step backward, all the time waving the broom handle back and
forth in front of him defensively. Each time the handle swung toward him, Spike
would swat at it as though it were a yarn ball and he were a kitten. A feral
kitten that was now showing a row of razor sharp teeth and two strange fangs.

"Stop it. Get back! Stay away. Please, I won't tell, I promise."

Riley's firmly voiced orders slid into a pathetic whine as he begged for his life.
It was a mistake. It is a move that fuels a predator's power and drives it to devour
its prey. When Riley saw the twinkle in the monster's eye he knew the game was
almost over. So, with all his might, he swung the mop once more, wildly and in a full
arc. The icy night air had caused the wooden handle to become stiff and brittle and
when it drew to the right, it struck the railing and splintered, cracking in half.

It was a sound that split the night like a gunshot and it caused Riley to stumble
back. With only the short stub left, he now jabbed it forward. He had made up
his mind. If he was going to die tonight, he was going to go down fighting.

Spike frowned and hesitated. The determined human in front of him now had a jagged
wooden stake aimed directly at his chest. He was fairly certain he could still step
in and slaughter this pathetic lamb but his demon growled as a morsel of doubt
crept in. Taking a step back, Spike snarled and hissed.

"You are a dead man. Don't sleep, boy. There is nowhere you can hide. I will
come to you when you least expect it and I will rip your throat out, bathe in
your blood and fuck your still-warm corpse."

With that, Spike spun around, his long black coat billowed out around him causing
him to blend in with the dark night, and in a flash he was gone.

Riley whimpered. His fingers continued to grip the piece of broken handle, and the
urine that ran down his legs froze as it pooled on the deck.

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