bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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The Crossing

Title: The Crossing
39/41
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




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



Spike woke with a start. Self preservation kept him from moving as he eased
one eye open and assessed the situation of his surroundings. It was mercifully
dark although his instincts told him that the sun was high in the sky. When he
tipped his head back, he was able to attribute the lack of sunlight to the heavy
tarp that covered him from head to toe.

The clothes he wore were ice covered and frozen, sticking to his body, telling
him that he was still out in the elements, but the wooden decking beneath him
indicated a ship. He was weak and tired but he was not dust.

Immediately, his head snapped to the left and relief washed over him as he came
face to face with the blue, pale skin of his dead lover. All feeling was gone from
his fingers and he was unaware till he glanced down that he still held tightly to
Xander's hand.

They had been rescued. Although he was certain that the sailors responsible for
dragging them on board did not consider their retrieval to be a rescue. A violent
shudder wracked his thin frame as he thought about what would have become of
them if they had been left there to float on the surface of the ocean till the hot rays
of the sun broke the horizon.

It would have been almost a comic twist. Survive the sinking of the Titanic only
to be turned to ash by the sunshine. Spike squeezed his eyes shut tight and a small
tear ran from the corner of his eye and froze on his face. If he lived to be a thousand
he would never forget this night. All the murder and mayhem he had wrought over
the years could not compare to the death and horror he had witnessed.

It was too much. It was more than one small vampire should have to endure.

Spike knew he had decisions to make. They were a good three days from shore and
if all went well, Xander would wake in another 12 hours or so. They would both
need to feed and he was far too weak to hunt and risk being caught by preying
on the crew or the surviving passengers.

Spike yawned and felt the ice crack and fall away from his jaw. He just couldn't
think anymore. He just couldn't. So he didn't. He fell into a deep sleep.

The next time he woke, it was with a warning jolt of fear. His hearing was sharp and
focused, seeking the direction of danger. He ignored the painful hunger that clawed
at his belly and he laid motionless, waiting. Within seconds, it came again. This time
the sound was accompanied by a slight vibration that he felt in the planking at his back.

Boots. Four. Two feet. Two men of size by the weight of their footfall. His features
shifted as the danger moved even nearer and he prepared to attack and protect what
was his.

"You looked under there?"

The first voice was low, quiet and unsure. Spike waited for the response.

"You kiddin'? Fuck no. You know the cap'in said we ain't allowed to be messin'
around back here. He says we best be showing the dead their respect. 'sides, what
the fuck you want to look at? They's dead."

The second man sounded older. His voice was deeper as though coming from someone
of greater life and experience.

"Yeah, I know, it's just that they got a lot of stuff, ya know? Money in their pockets
and rings on......"

The rest of the sentence was cut short as Spike heard a scuffle, fast and hard before
the older man spoke again.

"You take one thing or touch one hair on them and I swear to Christ I will tell the
Captain personally. You is a shit head. You know that? Goddamn, man, that is
just fucked up. Now we was sent over here to make sure that everything was tight
and secure and nothin' else."

The first voice was now whiny.

"Ah, come on, George, you know I was joking. Damn, this whole thing has been really
hard on me. Being out in this cold and having to look at all these dead and dying folks.
It just ain't fair George. Why these bad things always happenin' to me?"

Spike heard George snort his disgust as the two men, apparently satisfied with the
conditions of the makeshift morgue, quickly retreated and were gone.

'O.k, then, he thought. 'We need food. Where can.....? Well, hell. Why the
fuck didn't I think of it before?'

Although less than tasty and ideal, Spike soon realized that they were lying in the
middle of a frozen buffet. The bodies, by their condition, were perfectly preserved
and would provide enough blood to sustain them until they arrived in New York
and could find fresh and hot.

They also might just provide a bit more. Thanks to the suggestion by the deck hand,
they would rummage through the pockets of their fellow corpses and hopefully
accumulate enough cash and jewelry to set them up in New York for some time.
Spike knew the first thing he would buy. A hot fucking bath!

But first, now that he was positive they were alone, Spike needed to move. His
muscles were locked and his extremities were numb and unfeeling. It took all his
strength to raise his right arm and reach across his body to his left hand. He then
carefully pried his fingers loose from Xander's, pleased that he hadn't had to break
any bones as he did.

With a grunt, he heaved his upper body off the floor and reached down to briskly
rub some circulation back into his legs but, with very little blood in his body, the task
was nearly pointless. He sighed and flopped back.

Looking to the right, he saw that his other companion was an older gentleman, one
that he remembered seeing in the card salon, smoking cigars and drinking fine whiskey.
He was one of the suckers Spike had fleeced out of his cash.

"Well, well, fancy meeting you here. So how you been? Dead? Humph, that's
a real shame, it is. So, since you are dead, you won't mind me having a nip or two
would you? No? Well, that's mighty white of you old chap."

Spike's features shook off the human aspects and slipped quietly into vampire.
He then rolled onto his side and almost as though he were cuddling up with
a lover, he pressed his body intimately against the form of the drowned man.

His yellow eyes glowed in the darkness and his long, pointed tongue flicked out
and across the unresponsive throat. Salt. He tasted the heavy salt of the ocean
on the man's skin and his nose wrinkled. Before he could think too much about it,
Spike sank his fangs in, splitting the dead, rubbery flesh.

The blood inside was cold. Colder than a cocktail in a glass clinking with ice.
It was thick and sluggish and required a lot of suction to remove it from its
veins. Without a pumping, beating heart to force it out, the blood was difficult
to pull as the veins constantly collapsed, acting like a kink in a rubber hose.

And there wasn't enough. When a body drowns, the lungs will constantly expand,
searching for precious oxygen until they burst and fill with blood. It is that rupture
of the vital organs that causes the death. Nearly half the body's blood supply
rushes in and floods the chest cavity.

"Fucking waste!"

Spike considered ripping open the body and licking it clean, but that would cause
an unnecessary complication if someone was to peek under the tarps. No, he would
just slip from body to body, drinking what he could until he glutted himself. Then, when
his boy awoke, he could feed his childe. It was reassuring. It was a plan. Spike was
almost stunned to realize that they might just make it after all.

When he had finished robbing his veins, Spike dipped next into the man's pockets.
He found a leather wallet stuffed with wet, cold cash, a gold ring and a pocket watch
that was inscribed to 'Harve, all my love, Pauline'
Spike kissed Harve on the lips and tucked the bounty in his pockets.

Suddenly, the body of the boy on his left jerked. Spike twisted around in time to
see the beautiful brown eyes pop open wide, the mouth stretch in a silent scream
of agony and the body begin to convulse violently as it tried to work out the knots
and constrictions of the rigor mortis that had claimed it.

Spike threw himself over his boy and tried to hold him still and quiet, praying that
George and Whiny would not be making their appointed rounds any time soon.
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