By: Broodus Foreheadus
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series, nor do I make any money from these stories. I am just borrowing them, but I can't promise they will be clean when I give them back. ;)
Warnings: Slash!Slash!Slash! Angst, Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort,
He wondered what he'd done this time. He knew it was his fault. It always was. Something he said, something he didn't do fast enough. Something. . .
He listened with dread as the footsteps thundered down the stairs. When finally the footsteps reached the bottom, he stood, frozen with fear, in the middle of the floor, eyes closed, praying it would be over quickly.
He didn't have time to brace himself before the blows started coming. Blow after blow came with no pattern to allow any anticipation of where the next will land. A shot to his ribs sent him crashing to the floor where he received a hard kick to his stomach.
Finally, when the blows stopped, he lay on his side, watching as the pair of feet, that were just pummeling him in the stomach, ascended the stairs out of sight. After the door slammed shut and he was sure those feet would not return, he whispered the same words he whispered after every beating, longing for the response he knew he would never hear.
"I love you dad."
"Xander I thought I told you I didn't want you patrolling by yourself. You could've gotten yourself killed," Buffy berated him when he walked into the Magic Box.
"I know Buff. I guess I just had to blow off some steam."
He was thankful that he'd met Buffy those few years ago. Being part of the Scoobies gave him lots of convincing material to use to keep the others from asking about the bruises. After a while they just assumed he was patrolling and he didn't have to do much explaining at all.
"No matter how many times I tell you not to, you do it anyway. Try using your brain for once."
With that, Buffy stomped into the training room slamming the door behind her. He sighed. It's better this way. If they knew what happened last night, things would just be worse, he silently comforted himself. As if they would believe me anyway.
"So what was it?"
Xander was startled out of his thoughts. "Huh?"
"What was it," Willow repeated, wondering if he got knocked on the head a little too hard.
"Oh… It was… It was just a couple vamps. They surprised me that's all. No worries."
He hated lying to them. Willow especially. Over the years, she learned to just stop asking about the bruises. Xander was sure she knew what had been going on for years now. Sometimes when he was younger, he would go to her house after a particularly hard beating and she would always have bandages stashed in her room to patch him up with so her mom wouldn't see him and start asking questions.
Coming back to the present with a shake to his head, he headed to the research table noticing the rather large pile of books that was there whenever a new baddie needed to be squished.
"So G-Man. What's the what? Is there some new big ugly in town that needs slaying?"
"Must I ask you again to stop calling me that?"
"At least once more G-Man."
Giles took off his glasses and proceeded to clean them while telling Xander about the demon that has been killing the residents of Sunnyhell. After hearing the description, Xander picked up one of the many old, dusty books and started looking for their demon.
Buffy emerged from the training room just after sundown stating she was ready for patrol. Giles spoke quickly giving them their assignments.
"Willow and Tara will stay here to help me with more research. Buffy, start your patrol near the park. That was where it was last spotted. Do be careful."
"What about me," Xander asked, hoping to be of some help for once.
"Oh… erm… Just go home and TRY to stay out of trouble."
"Ok… I guess I'll see you guys later then."
Without another word, he left the shop.
Xander, instead of going home, wandered through the darkened streets reflecting on his life. Despite what his friends thought, he could be quiet when he wanted to be. He thought about his parents. Always drunk and arguing. About the only thing they could agree on was how he was a useless waste of space. His mother, when she wasn't passed out, always took the time to tell him how he ruined their lives by just being born. Xander had zero happy memories in that house.
I guess that's a lie, he told himself. He thought to when Giles asked him to move Spike into the Basement of Doom. He complained loudly about the arrangement despite the fact that inside he was doing cartwheels, and dreading it all at once. Cartwheels, because he'd secretly had a crush on spike for years now, and dreading because he didn't know how to hide the beatings.
Xander knew he was gay for years now and he used to hate himself for it. He tried so hard to change it. To make it go away. Finally, after that whole mess with Cordelia, he was forced to make peace with that part of himself.
Thankfully for Xander, his dad usually only made a go at him after dark, and Spike usually left at sunset to do whatever chipped vampires do. So Spike never saw the beatings. Xander made sure to change clothes in the bathroom where the vampire wouldn't see the bruises. He was sure Spike didn't know a thing.
Xander pictured those striking blue eyes set above cheekbones that could have been carved from marble. He pictured beautiful lips that he knew would be so soft against his own. Platinum blonde hair, so soft to the touch. A chest sculpted from marble and wrapped in velvet. He longed to run his hands over the planes of that beautiful body, to be wrapped in those strong arms while losing himself in crystal blue eyes just knowing he would be safe.
Oh yeah, he thought, I've got it bad for the vamp.
All these thoughts raced through his head but he knew that he would never in a million years have the vampire that way. Enemies, yes. Maybe even friends someday, but Spike would never want the damaged goods that was Xander Harris.
Spike strolled through the cemetery, arms laden with bags of blood, and smokes, bought with money he happened to find laying around… in the Watchers' wallet. He'd spent the evening watching Passions reruns until he was sure Timmy was going to pull through the cancer for the third time and finally profess his love for Olivia. He then headed to the ATM, aka Giles' wallet, and proceeded on his way.
Spike's crypt had just come into sight, when a scent in the air stopped him. What's the whelp doin' out here alone at this time of night?
After continuing further, Spike caught another scent that stopped him in his tracks. He was confused at the wave of concern he felt for the whelp and the terror at the thought of why he would be smelling his blood in a cemetery in the middle of the night. I'm supposed to be annoyed at him and walk away without a care in the world right? So why do I fear for his life? Oh hell.
Spike dropped his bags and sped off following the scent of Xanders' blood. Up ahead, he spotted a dark form on the ground and picked up speed. He skidded to a halt next to the broken bloody form of Xander Harris. He sunk to the ground in shock, barely registering the faint heartbeat coming from the boy.
"Please let him be ok," he quietly prayed to whatever god that would listen, not even noticing the single pink tinged tear sliding down his cheek.