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.

10:55 p.m. Some 10-19 miles north of Titanic, the Californian is stopped in ice and
sends out warnings to all ships in the area. Bride rebukes the Californian with the famous reply
"Keep out! Shut up! You're jamming my signal. I'm working Cape Race"
11:35 p.m. Californian's wireless operator Evans turns off his set, and retires for the evening.

Spike angrily paced around the aisles of crates and boxes in the cargo hold. He fumed
and cursed the worthless humans that had placed him in this position of inconvenience
and deprivation. It wasn't that he was afraid. The entire staff of crew plus the thousands
of passengers were nothing to him. He would cheerfully slaughter and rend them, one
by one before walking away but that scenario lacked several doable provisions.

First, there was no walking away. He, by his own foolish choice, had trapped himself
on the open ocean with no other option but to ride out the cruise till they reached
dry land. When he had decided to visit the Colonies, the Titanic seemed the perfect
choice. It was sort of a forest for the trees setting. With the huge number of edible
passengers, one simple little vampire would never be noticed. Or so he thought.

Second was that he had backed off. It was an inexcusable fuck up. It was the
sort of thing a fearful fledge would have done. He should have charged the man
with the wooden weapon, snatched it from his hand and after eating him, shoved
it soundly up his arse as a warning to others with similar minds.

His next mistake was his carelessness in discarding some of the bodies. The ship's
mate was left where it could be found and the last wench was tossed over where
he had been observed. Both of these ignorant miscalculations were beneath him.
They were zombie-stupid fuckups and yet he understood why they had happened.


The real reason that he was unsure, off balance and unguarded. It was what caused
him to misstep and ignore the warning signs. It was what stirred fear in his dead heart.
Not a fear for himself but for his boy. It was knowing that Xander had been seen with
him and could, himself, be in danger. This was the concern that had Spike fuming and

He had never in all his years on earth wanted anyone like he wanted this boy. He
wanted to fuck him, to bite him and to own him, but buried deep inside that want
was the desire for the boy to have the same craving for him. Spike wanted to be
wanted. When all of this became clear in his mind, Spike stopped walking and
he beat his fists on a steamer trunk in frustration as his thoughts barreled on down
the road of his mental anguish.

Xander had told him he loved him. His warm, human touch and caring eyes had
confirmed it. And because of that, Spike had taken a giant leap of faith and told
his boy everything. He knew Spike was a vampire and he had seen him kill, yet he
still stood by, faithful and true. It was more than Spike had ever allowed himself
to hope for.

Yet, here they were. Separated by a world of humans that, even now, could be
arresting, torturing or threatening his lover. Or worse, they could be poisoning
his mind. Convincing Xander that Spike was evil, although he was, telling him
that their being together was wrong. They could actually be hoisting that nasty,
viper Yvette into his arms and his bed.

Spike's face shifted. His fangs lengthened and his brow crinkled in its vampire
distortion as the colorful mental picture flashed behind his eyelids of his Xander,
naked and hard, rolling in their bed with the wet, sloppy crotched bitch, Yvette.
The images drove him wild.

They would brainwash his boy, telling him that he needs a normal human life with a
clinging wife, a position of employment and several snotty little children. They would
prey on him while he was sad and lonely. And all the time, there would be Yvette.
Pawing, poking and opening her legs for him to enter her and relieve himself.

"Yvette. The bitch!"

The very name burnt his tongue as though it were dipped in acid. He could just see
her, dressed in her fine and frilly lace and satins. Flaunting herself as though she were
beautiful but Spike knew better.

"Face like a spanked arse, she has! And a fat rump that needs no bustle! How
dare she think she is good enough for the likes of my Xander!"

Finally, he could stand it no more and he stomped his feet like a toddler.


Spike screamed his rage into the night. His roar matched that of the ever present
rumble of the steam boilers and the grinding of the metal cogs beneath him. A violent
shudder of fury wracked his body and he knew there was no way he could allow
whatever the disgusting humans were doing to his lover to continue. He must have
been mad to think that he could lurk about unseen for the next week, existing without
the touch, the smell, the heat of his Xander.

Suddenly a new thought crept in. It was one that calmed and comforted him considerably.
Why did it have to be one or the other? All feast or famine? Who was to say that he
couldn't stay away from Xander and still know what was happening to the boy?

Spike had years of experience in being little more than a shadow. He could keep
to the dark corners of the ship, feed from a more carefully select menu in third and still
slip up to the next level and keep an eye on the treachery that was being done to his
boy. And he would keep notes. He would run a mental ledger where all of the
names of those who would conspire against him would be duly noted. Then when they
reached land, he would have years to hunt them down and rip them to shreds with his
beloved by his side to witness the depth of Spike's love for him.

Spike felt enormously relieved. He had a plan. He knew what he would do and
decided that there was no time like the present to implement such an excellent scheme.
He knew that it was nearly midnight and Xander should be in his cabin. All he would
do is slip up, press an ear to the cabin door and listen. If there was one heartbeat,
he would return to his sleeping crate in the storage hold. If, God forbid, there were
two hearts pumping blood, he would rip the door from it's hinges and bring a sudden
and painful halt to a heart that would have no more need to exist once he drained all
the blood from the intruder's body.

Spike's grin spread so wide, it nearly pained his face as he rubbed his hands together
in glee. If he had been able to grow a handlebar moustache, he would, at this very
minute be stroking it as he sniggered.

Quickly, he snatched his long coat from the top of the steamer trunk and he started
for the stairway to the second class level. As he swung the heavy garment around to
put it on, the unexpected occurred. The huge ship, the unsinkable Titanic, jolted with
such force and power that it knocked him off his feet, tossing him to the floor where
he ended up face-first on the cold steel.

Spike was stunned. He stayed where he had landed and listened. Although the boilers
still fired, he could tell that the ship had stopped moving and that now, somewhere deep
in the bottom of the hull there had been a sick, metallic scraping sound. Spike slowly
pushed himself up to a sitting position and he tipped his head to the side.

There was something else.

Another sound that even to his enhanced hearing seemed faint and distant. It was, at first
unidentifiable. It was foreign and like nothing he could compare it to. Suddenly and
with a stunning and sickening clarity, the right word hit his brain like a sledge hammer.


'Holy Mother of God!'

His brain screamed and rebelled at the inconceivable. Quickly he dropped back
down and placed an ear to the cold floor, hoping against hope that he had been wrong.
Within seconds he had located both the sound and it's origin and he knew it was far
worse than he thought.

The unsinkable Titanic was taking on water!
And from the sounds of it, a fucking LOT of water!

11:40 PM
In the crows's nest, Fleet sees a large iceberg dead ahead and signals the bridge.
He quickly reaches above him and rings the bell three times. This is to signal
that there is something out ahead. Fleet reaches for the telephone. When it is
picked up below, Officer Moody askes, "What do you see?" "Iceberg right ahead"
Fleet answers. Moody thanks him and hangs up the phone. He then relays
the message to Murdoch who orders the ship hard a starboard and telegraphs
the engine room to stop all engines, followed by full astern. He then orders that all
watertight doors be closed. But it is too late.

The 300 foot gash has fully opened five compartments to the sea as well as flooding
the coal bunker servicing the no.9 stokehold.

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