Title: Fighting for Freedom
Chapter Number: 3
Overall Rating: NC17
Chapter Rating: PG13
Summary: Alexander Harris is the son of the President of the United States, and he’s bored. For most of his life, he’s been hidden away and kept from society to ensure a lack of embarrassment and trouble to make his father’s campaign easier. While on a trip, he makes a break for it, and discovers a world he never would have imagined. Unfortunately, the man introducing him to all of this, might not be quite who he says he is…
Disclaimer: No characters from BtVS or AtS are mine, nor do I claim them to be. I am using the characters purely for fun and entertainment purposes.
Overall Warnings: slash, het, graphic sex, swearing,
Chapter Warnings: swearing
Xander crossed the brightly lit hallway to Buffy’s room and began knocking. After a few moments, the door opened, revealing her in soft, pink pajamas, her hair a mess, and blinking blearily.
“Xan?” she muttered after squinting out at him. “Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s almost three.” He had obviously been out longer than he’d thought. “What’s going on?”
“Can I come in? Because I have got to tell you what happened tonight. Please?” Buffy sighed and moved aside, turning on her light.
“Alright, what happened that is so exciting you have to tell me now instead of the morning?”
Xander started to tell her about his night, trying not to leave out any details, even though the first few hours were boring, but just as he reached the exciting part of his evening, she cut him off.
“What happened to your neck?”
“I’ll get to it,” he said, waving off her concern.
“No, you’re covered in blood!” Buffy jumped up and went to the bathroom, coming back with a wet cloth. Xander rolled his eyes as she cleaned his neck.
“I’m fine! But listen,” he insisted, telling her about the vampires and Spike. When he was finished, Buffy was staring at him with wide eyes.
“Vampires? Xander…really? Are you pulling my leg, or do you honestly think this guy was telling you the truth?”
“Buffy, it was real! These things were not human, and, look, they bit me! There must be marks!”
“Xander, as far as I can tell, that wasn’t even your blood.”
“There isn’t a single scratch on your neck, let alone puncture wounds.”
“Maybe you should go to bed. Things will make more sense in the morning.”
“I’m telling you, they were real! Spike was so serious about it; vampires ruined his life.” Xander wasn’t sure why he was so upset she didn’t believe him, he hadn’t believed either, or why he was so adamant about convincing her.
“Well they would, if he’s going around saying something that is mythical is real.”
“Xander, this guy must be crazy. You probably hit your head, mixing up your Xander-brains and making it easier to buy into. Just go sleep.” Buffy pushed him out of her room, and Xander went back to his own and started changing into his pajamas.
“I’m not concussed,” he muttered to himself. “And he’s not crazy. It did happen.” Xander checked for wounds while he brushed his teeth, but didn’t find a thing. “I know it was real.”
He crawled into bed, and fell asleep assuring himself of his sane surety.
It was still dark when Spike’s replacement showed up. He nodded to the man, snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray built into the trash can nearby, and walked off with a quiet, “Ta, mate.” Rather than rooming in the hotel, where most of the services would be paid for by his employer, Spike made his way into downtown Las Angeles.
He staked a few vampires along the way, stopped a mugger, and scared off a demon that was mostly harmless but would worry the locals in the know but uneducated as to what was dangerous or not. When he reached the building he was looking for, Spike allowed a genuine smile to cross his face and slipped through the gates to knock at the door.
After a moment, a tired voice called through, “Name?”
“It’s Spike, luv.”
“Spike?” the quiet, feminine voice asked.
“Yes, Anne,” he sighed, slumping against the doorjamb.
“Oh bleedin’ hell,” he muttered. Speaking up, he said, “I’ve not been ‘round in nearly a year, pet. Can I get a hint?”
A few seconds of silence preceded her soft voice’s answer. “Your mother’s maiden name?”
“Pratt, ducks, now will ya let me in?” He stood up straight as he heard the locks turning out of place. He entered the building, passing the woman in her mid-thirties as she closed the door again. Then she had turned and was hugging him.
“We’ve missed you,” she said.
“Yeah, I’ve missed you too.” Then she smacked him.
“You had your brothers worried sick! Not to mention the others. You should have called more often.”
“Sorry, pet, can’t change that now, now can I? Besides, I’ve been off makin’ good money for you all ta live on, haven’t I? And has anybody raised a complaint about that? Don’t think so.”
“Hush, William. I imagine you’re exhausted.”
“Just a mite,” he said, smothering a yawn and ignoring that she’d used his given name. They started towards the bedrooms to find him a bed. “Where is everyone?”
“Faith took Wesley and the girls on patrol. Rupert was doing research but is likely asleep now, Jenny is still up working on a spell, and Oz should be drifting off as soon as the moon goes down.”
“Oh hell, the cycle started last night, didn’t it?”
“Yes. He’ll be tired when he gets up, but he’ll be fine.” Anne opened a door, gesturing in. Spike stepped forward and through the doorway, eyeing the sparse furnishings.
“Always is, that boy. Thank you for the room Anne, but I really am ready to drop.”
“How long will you be staying this time?”
“A bit. I’m still working; I’ve just got to keep my eyes on things at night. It’ll only been a week or so, likely. But I’ll spend time with everyone. Once those kids get up it’s like a herd of elephants in this place.”
Anne smiled. “Will, you’ve been gone a while.”
“It’s only been a few years.”
“Yes, but a few years can change children into adults.”
Spike smiled. “Doesn’t matter. They’ll always be kids to me.”
“Sleep. I’ll tell them you’re here when they come in.”
“Alright,” Spike said with another yawn. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
The door was closed, and Spike crawled into bed after stripping himself bare. The sheets felt good against his skin, and he sighed, settling his head into a pillow that smelled of family.