cobalt_mystic (cobalt_mystic) wrote,

Fic: Comfort of Fiends (2/6)

Author: Cobalt Mystic
Title: Comfort of Fiends
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC17 easily!!!!!!!!
Feedback: Mys has decided that she actually likes FB, so… constructive crit is fine, just be prepared for Mys to defend/explain her choices, and try not to do any permanent damage, k.
Disclaimer: Just playing with the pretty kittens. Unfortunately, they are not mine, but I will gladly groom and bathe them before sending them back home to Daddy (aka Joss/Mutant Enemy/et al).
Warnings/Squicks: NON-CON- lots of non-con some implied some more graphic, ABUSE- both physical and mental!
Summary: Xander’s nightmares have piqued the curiosity of our favourite insanely jealous and protective peroxide vamp… the story he uncovers is disturbing, even to a Childe of Angelus.

---------Fiends and Enemies---------

Xander stumbled through his shift, his mind was more distant than usual after the morning’s Fangless encounter. Damn-it, it shouldn’t bother him so much- just because he and the Bleached Wonder were developing a bit less of a hatred for each other and maybe it was nice to have another guy around who was more of an outcast/fifth wheel than he was, but that didn’t mean they were friends or that he cared about hurting the vamp’s feelings.
It wasn’t Spike’s fault he hit on a sensitive subject- not that he thought for a moment the snarky blonde wouldn’t use it against him if he had known- or that Xander was having the nightmares again. It probably wasn’t even the vamp’s fault that he’d overheard enough to pick Jesse’s name out of Xander’s sleep induced mutterings.
Xander felt bad, guilty even, he shouldn’t have reacted the way he had- letting his emotions get the better of him. By the end of his shift, Xander reached the conclusion that, while he didn’t feel guilty enough to hunt down the Not-So-Evil-Undead and apologize, he could afford to make sure he had some decent blood on hand and be a little more civil the next time he saw the vamp- providing said vamp didn’t bring up the incident or Jesse.


“Hey, how’re my two best buds this fine October morning?” Xander practically bounced up to Willow and Jesse.

His exuberance coupled with his flashy, baggy clothes always put Willow in mind of Gummi Bears and that image never failed to produce a giggle. “Hey, Xan! Feeling better I take it?”

“You bet, besides I missed you guys.”

“Hmm, more likely you missed cheerleading practice,” the lanky boy joked.

“Well…,” Xander shrugged his shoulders and gave a mischievous smirk.

“Oh, you two, I would tell you to stop being hormonal, but I doubt it would do any good.” The redhead gathered her books and stood, “Have fun ogling, I’m going to class.”

The girl received two salutes and “Yes, Ma’am!”s as she wandered away from the boys.

“So,” Jesse plopped down on the bench next to his friend, “you really okay?”

“Yeah, Xan-man’s made of rubber- he always bounces back.” The boy offered an entirely too honest and world-weary smile.

“You should’ve called me. I would’ve come, you know that.”

“Jesse…” This was the first time since waking up with his best-friend in his bed that Xander’s father had had a go at him.

“No, Xan. I’m serious, you shouldn’t be alone after… that!”

“Jesse, he didn’t…”

“I don’t care. Obviously, I do; what I meant was it doesn’t matter how bad or how far.” He gripped his best-friend’s shoulder, “If you’re not gonna do something about it before, you’re at least going to come to me after. You understand me?”

Xander gave a half-hearted smile, “Yeah, Jesse. I get ya.”

“Good! Now, which way did the Cordettes go?”


It was a few weeks later when Jesse snatched up the ringing phone to hear his best-friend’s hoarse and broken voice, “Jesse… need you.”

“Hang on Xan, I’m coming.”

Once again the slim boy climbed the old tree be Xander’s window. Peering inside, he could just make out the shape of the boy curled into a ball on the floor. Quickly, Jesse went to his friend’s side, helping him onto the bed before locking and blocking the bedroom door. The lanky teen then returned to his beaten friend, stripped down to his boxers, and climbed into bed with him.
As he slowly began to calm, Xander pushed closer into Jesse’s welcoming embrace, chanting, “You came. You came. You came,” over and over as if he thought the boy would vanish if he didn’t maintain the mantra.


Within a few short months, Jesse had established the cycle Mr. Harris followed, and the two boys quickly fell into a routine based on that. If his father laid into him during the day or outside his ‘cycle’, Xander would either call or make his way to Jesse. At night, Jesse would wait in the old birch, watching the ‘activities’ going on in Xander’s bedroom. Sometimes nothing would happen, save for some terrifying shouting and threats. Sometimes, Xander would have a few new bruises to conceal. And sometimes as Tony Harris pounded into his son, the boy watched, wishing he was in place of the elder Harris. Stripping his dribbling shaft roughly in time to the large man’s grunts, imagining it was him taking Xander- owning him.
Afterwards, Jesse would climb through Xander’s window to hold and comfort him.

It was during one of these ‘comfort sessions’ that their lips first touched.
Neither boy had intended for it to happen, nor had they intended for the heated clash of tongues, lips, and teeth that followed to occur. Never-the-less, it did happen, giving each boy what they craved- for one, compassion; the other, power.

Jesse was on cloud nine- he’d kissed Xander, and Xander kissed him! More importantly, Jesse now knew he could get what he wanted. The lanky boy smiled almost manically chuckling to himself as he made his way home- it was not a warming sight.


After leaving the Whelp’s wretched excuse for a home, Spike acquired himself a fresh bottle of JD and returned to his crypt to settle in for a fun filled night of reading the boy’s high school yearbooks. The vampire shuddered- he just hoped one bottle would be enough.


The first book he looked through was the most recent, and incredibly disturbing; mainly because it proved to him that Harmony was actually more intelligent and tolerable as a demon than when she was alive. Spike couldn’t help but be amazed she’d lasted as long as she had on the Hellmouth. The blonde vamp downed half the bottle of Jack just to dull those memories.
As he flipped through the next book, the Scoobies’ Junior year, he was surprised by how vivid and fresh his own emotions were from those months.
Angelus returning, more psychotic and cruel than he’d ever been.
His Dark Princess, happy and healthier than she’d been in decades, dancing around her Sire all gleeful and giddy, her pale skin marred by Daddy’s wounds and her own sweet blood.
That blasted chair, never again, he’d rather be staked or greet the sun one final time then be a prisoner in his own body again. He still had nightmares about that, only now there were white rooms and white coats and cold hard cages added to the mix.

Angrily, Spike gulped the remaining liquor before hurling the bottle against the nearest wall. “T’ hells with this,” he announced to the air. “’m still the Big Bad, Master Vampire, two Slayers under m’ belt, don’t need to be pussy-footing ‘round ‘s if I need permission. Wanna know ‘bout the bastard and the Whelp’s gonna bloody well tell me!”
The blonde grabbed his duster and stormed out of the crypt, determined to get some answers from his boy.


Spike strode purposefully towards the boy’s house, revising and dismissing ways the scene could play out.
One of the few scenarios the vamp hadn’t considered was being hit by the scent of the boy’s fear and sorrow the moment he was in sight of the Harris homestead. The flash of anger at someone or something, other than him, scaring his boy that badly shocked the vampire. Instantly, Spike was at the boy’s window, peering into the dark depths of the basement.

His boy sat on that horrid sofa bed, a small photo in his hands and a stake laying next to him. Spike strained to hear what the boy was saying, his confusion and anger ratcheting with the hodgepodge of words he could make out.

“So sorry, Jesse, so sorry, but she… you… it wasn’t because of… you were still my friend… still my friend…,” the boy sobbed, hiccupping, and fighting for breath. “It wasn’t ‘cause of… it WASN’T! You were my friend, you… it wasn’t right, none of it was.”
Slowly the boy cried himself out and fell into a highly troubled sleep.

The moment he was certain Xander was asleep, Spike quickly let himself inside and bee lined it for the boy. He unceremoniously snatched up the photo to see exactly who had this effect on his boy. If he hadn’t been so angry, Big Bad status aside, he would have smiled at the picture. It had obviously been taken outside of The Bronze; a tall, lean, dark-haired boy whose face and body screamed ‘awkward teenager’ stood in the centre, his arms flung around Red on one side and Xander on the other. Spike was amazed, he couldn’t remember when he’d seen either Scooby so completely carefree and happy. The vampire felt a sharp stabbing pain in his chest- this was his boy. How dare someone else make him that happy or cause him this much pain. Involuntarily, Spike hissed through demon fangs, the sound just loud enough to disturb the mortal’s sleep.

Whimpering, “No Jesse… please… I promise he didn’t. Promise… would tell you.”

The vampire crept to the boy’s side. The question of whether or not to risk waking the young man was dismissed with barely a thought- a thought that ran along the lines of ‘mine, protect, mine, hurt, mine!’ Adopting the voice he used when comforting Dru, the vamp carded his fingers through his boy’s hair and cooed, “It’s okay, luv, calm down. That’s it, Xan, everything’s gonna be alright. Now, what is it you’d tell me?”

The boy squirmed, obviously upset at the question, but eventually he spoke, “If he fucked me,” he keened.

Spike saw red. His demon saw red. And the urge to dismember the bastard that dared touch Xander that way was strong enough to set off the chip, but his fury was so deep and pure that the normally debilitating pain was barely a blip on his internal radar. In fact, for once the pain seemed to serve as a focus, showing the vamp what had to be done.
First and foremost was getting his boy out of here. That meant getting Xander a decent job and convincing him he could and deserved to have his own place. Then he’d see about disembowelling the waste of flesh his dark human had misfortune enough to call a father. Spike’d lived with the boy, he didn’t need the ‘who’ spelt out for him. He’d heard the rages and seen the bruises Xander passed off as patrol injuries. Yes, chip or no, that human was going to pay.
Spike stayed at the young man’s side until he seemed to reach a fairly peaceful sleep. A lesser demon might’ve been shocked by how much it seemed Spike cared for the boy and by how easily his mind accepted the knowledge, but this was Spike and after over a century with Drusilla, sudden emotional revelations were a drop in the hat- processed and dealt with as simply and easily as breathing was by the living. Besides, he might not have gotten all his answers, but he got a lot- and some new questions he didn’t even know he had.

A Fiend in Need
Tags: fiend!verse, fiends, spander

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