This fic and Whoever You Ask For were both inspired by George Michael's "Father Figure". Yes, I was watching Oprah, heard the song, and two scenarios popped into my head. And, yes, I did have to write both.

Dark. Very AU. Some prostitution. Xander/couple other people. Bit of a, umm, character death warning all ends up good in the end. Heh.

Oh, got the title from a George Michael song called "Father Figure". Also, got the idea from hearing it. Hey, he was on Oprah and apparently Oprah = porny thoughts for me. I'm a sick, sick person.

Thanks to the lovely [info]kitty_poker1 for the beta, as usual. I heart you a bajillion trillion bunches.

Disclaimer: It may come as a surprise but I'm not Joss Whedon or Mutant Enemy and therefore I do not own Spike or any of his many shagging and verbal sparring partners. I weep for the injustice of it all and play with these characters in the fiction I write because this is pretty much all the fun I have.

If You Ever Hunger


Part One

He dressed himself in easily removable clothes, not bothering with underwear. With practiced fingers he mussed up his brown hair, gave himself a critical once-over in his blurred bathroom mirror. He slipped hand lotion in his pocket, walked out of the steamy bathroom and then looked around his dank, stark, cheap little apartment with a helpless expression and a loud sigh that revealed how disgusted and hopeless he felt.

He hadn't wanted it to come down to this, doing this again, but it appeared that he didn't have a choice.

Xander wrapped his arms around himself as he walked down the side of the street. He zig-zagged between parked cars and avoided other people as if they had the plague, which was ironic considering what he was about to do. He swallowed hard when he finally reached the street corner he'd known all too well just last summer and for years before that.

He sighed as he positioned himself against the street lamp, striking a provocative but not overly obvious pose.

Go time.

He watched cars drive by, listened to the sounds of buzzing conversation and car engines and loud noises he couldn't identify.

It was hard going back, harder than he'd thought it would be. He'd given up the street walker life the previous year because he'd wanted out. The Johns were too rough and it was dangerous work, even if it paid extremely well.

He'd been his own pimp and had made quite a bit of money. He'd used the last of the savings he'd acquired from doing this several months ago, though, and his job at the burger shop two blocks from his apartment wasn't enough anymore. Not even when he'd started really tightening up his belt and cutting out all the things he didn't absolutely need.

His apartment was a hovel, for chrissakes!

He was tired of living in a shit box little place with no comforts and nothing that made it feel or look like a home.

Not that it was a home, though. He hadn't had one of those since he was fourteen and stayed over at his friend Willow's place because his parents were fighting. After getting in the way of his mom and dad's literal knock-down drag-out fights, he'd spent most of his time with the little red-head.

But she'd been killed in an automobile accident several years ago and he hadn't had anyone else to go to. At sixteen he'd dropped out of school, stolen a car from his neighborhood and driven to Los Angeles because he'd needed to get the hell out.

With only the clothes on his back, a small duffle of mementos and a couple of pairs of extra clothing, a hundred bucks, and the car he'd come with, he'd set out to make something of himself.

And he'd failed miserably.

Within a couple of weeks he'd been out of money, homeless -- the car had been stolen and that had been where he was sleeping while he'd tried to find a job and some place cheap enough that even he could afford -- and his battered old duffle had been the only thing he had left.

Without a place to go, he'd stood with his bag on a street corner, innocently staring at passing cars when an older, sleazy gentlemen had pulled up, rolled down his expensive car's window and propositioned him lewdly. Xander had been gobsmacked, to say the least, but once he'd recovered from his shock he'd swallowed his fear and gotten in the car, holding his bag securely in his lap as he was taken to a darkened alley way for privacy.

The experience had been degrading and humiliating and not in the slightest pleasurable to him, but he'd learned quickly that men would pay him for a blow job or a hand job.

Fifty dollars richer, he'd been left on another corner and decided at that moment that if this was the only way to do it...he'd have to make a living being a whore.

He had to work with what he had and all he had was himself.

He'd lasted two years on the streets like that. He'd lived out of a motel room, sometimes taking his clients back there to perform their preferred acts. He'd never let anyone take his ass, though; that was sacred and something he'd never give anyone.

At least not until he fell in love, maybe, because he knew he was gay. Had always known and the only man that was touching him there was going to be the one he spent forever with.

Though, he didn't really believe in love anymore. He'd resigned himself to sucking and tugging on cocks until he got too old and no one wanted to pay for him anymore.

As he'd gotten better and gotten more regulars, he'd slowly begun to forget about the perky, pretty little red-head that had been his only friend and his saviour.

It was easy to grow into a rut in this new life. He slept during the day and worked at night and he had at least four men a night, sometimes up to seven or eight.

The more men he serviced, the more of himself he lost. He didn't talk to anyone but his Johns -- and that was only to ask what they wanted and name the price -- didn't go anywhere but to the streets and his newly acquired apartment, didn't spend more than a few minutes on buying groceries and the normal amenities -- at least until he couldn't afford them anymore.

By the time he reached the burn-out point, he was nineteen and the men were getting rougher and more aggressive in asking for his ass. He still didn't want to give that away for just anyone, so he quit.

He had a few thousand dollars by that time so he paid several months rent ahead of time, got his job and then realised that serving greasy burgers and fries to snot-nosed little kids and over-worked, cheap people wasn't enough to survive in LA.

Which was why he was on this street corner again, battling against his conscience and everything in him that said to not lower himself to this again, that he'd plug through as he always did.

But he pushed those thoughts aside. He knew there was no other way.

A flashy, red car pulled up at the curb and he pasted on a seductive, knowing grin as he leaned into the open window.

Yeah, it was go time, alright, and if he got enough customers tonight he'd have enough money to make this month's rent and maybe have some left over for food and to get his clothes cleaned at the laundromat he occasionally went to.


The grey-haired man groaned and came in his mouth and he fought back the urge to gag and spit it out because that would probably piss the old bastard off. He just wiped his mouth, smiled gamely as the elder gentleman praised him and patted him like a dog and then took the offered bills gingerly from a shaky hand.

His stomach waited until the car was out of sight before it rebelled into a nearby alley. He wiped his mouth and went to buy some mouthwash and maybe a sandwich because he hadn't eaten anything for a week except for the burgers he'd stolen from work.


Three men, two hand-jobs and one blow job later, he was a hundred and fifty dollars richer and that much closer to making the rent. He only had a little over a week until the rent was due, but he'd have to work for at least that long before he could be a little more secure in the pocket -- he would probably end up selling his services for a few months before he got back on his feet.

As an old -- antique even -- Desoto with blacked out windows and an incredibly noisy engine and squeaky breaks rolled up to his corner, he sighed, straightened from his post and smiled at the window that had failed to lower.

His reflection looked pasty and he avoided his own eyes in the reflection.

He frowned and waited and finally it wasn't the window that opened, it was the door; he had to step back quickly in order to avoid being hit with it.

He was met with a pale man with white hair and the most incredible blue eyes he'd ever seen before. Those eyes stared into his soul and pierced somewhere inside that he hadn't thought still survived.

His heartbeat quickened.

The blond man eyed him up and down with a look that scorched skin and then he relaxed against the back of his seat, spread his legs and smirked.

"Get in, working boy. Gotta job for you to do."

Xander swallowed hard, cock responding to the sexy accent and deep voice, and tentatively crawled into the huge, behemoth of a car.

With a loud squeal the car took off, even before Xander could get the door shut or put on his safety belt, burning rubber on the asphalt.

"What do you want?"

Those intent blue eyes roved his body hungrily, wantonly, and Xander couldn't exactly say that he didn't like the attention.

This man was the first one he hadn't been disgusted with.

"I'm a bit tense. Think you could...melt the tense right out of me, pet."

Xander sighed, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. "What do you want?" he repeated.

"Want you to ride me."

Xander's heart tripped to a halt for half a second and then sped up. "Wh-wha-what? No, I don't do that. I'm sorry, I should've been specific about what I do and don't do. Hand job or a blow job, take your pick."

Dark brows lowered over narrowed, glittering eyes. Dexterous hands guided the vehicle to a stand-still at a convenient stop light.

"You're a whore, yeah?"

"W-w-well, yeah, I am but--"

"Then you provide sex for money, right?"

"Umm, kinda but--"

"Then you do what I say and I'll pay you. Name your price." Pretty pink lips widened into a grin that frightened Xander for some reason, despite his instant liking of the man.

He shrank away from the man, leaning heavily against the door. "I've know. Never done that before."

The eyebrows did a little dance before riding up a smooth forehead. "You've never been buggered before?"

"If that means I've never taken it up the ass before, then no, I haven't," Xander replied, embarrassed, lips twisting.

A low, velvet chuckle reverberated in the silence. "Well, well, well, you're a treasure, aren't you? Never given your cherry to anyone, eh? I can definitely work with that, boy."

"Name's Xander." He was sullen and could feel his lip working into a pout but he didn't care. This man was different from all his others and it was disconcerting and throwing him off. He didn't know how to react to this man's audacity and cocksureness.

"Spike." The blond's lips quirked up at the unexpected introduction.

What about a spike? Were they talking about railroads and Xander had taken a wrong turn at Confused Avenue?


"You gave me your name, I gave you mine. Spike. Just being polite, is all. You have a place we can go? Don't want to fuck in the car. You may be right bendy but I like to have room to maneuver."

He wasn't sure about taking this Spike guy back to his place but he wasn’t springing for a hotel room with his hard-earned money so...

"Uh, yeah, take a right and then another right and go south for six blocks. I'll tell you where to turn off."

Spike's grin was predatory and beautiful and it frightened Xander to the core even as it aroused him as no other had.

"Brilliant," rolled out of the blond's mouth like it was a fine wine, or maybe like the candy that Xander hadn't been allowed to have in so long because of his poverty.

Xander slumped against the seat and watched the scenery go by in a daze of black-smeared paint.


"Left here."

Spike turned left. "So, how long you been selling your tricks?"

Xander's eyes widened at the blatant bluntness of the question. No one had ever asked him that before; no one had cared to know before. "I-I quit for almost a year but...before that I did it for nearly three."

"Why'd you quit?"

Xander swallowed. Why did Spike want to know? Why did he care? Why was he dredging up shit that he didn't want to talk about but seemed unable to not talk about with Spike?

"I-I didn't want to do it anymore. I saved up some money and I quit. Why are you asking me all this? Why do you care?"

Spike pursed his lips and glanced at Xander before returning his vision to the slightly smeared spot in the black paint on the front windshield. "Don't rightly know. Just making conversation, I suppose. Curious about it, really. Never had to do it myself."

Xander snorted and leaned his head against the painted window. "Lucky you." After a moment. "Look, no one's ever asked, I've never's just not something I talk about, alright?"

"What do you tell your friends?"

His heart clenched and tears burned his eyes. He laughed coldly. "I don't have to worry about that. I don't have any to tell."

Spike raised an eyebrow incredulously. "You don't have anybody?"

"If I had someone do you think I'd be doing this? Living like this? I've got no one. No one cared about me so I left. I ended up running out of money -- not that I had much in the first place -- and had to start selling myself for cash. There wasn't another option for me. If there was I wouldn't be doing this. And I don't want to talk about this anymore. Pull in on the right here."

And with that, Xander officially closed the subject.

Spike smiled an odd little smile and allowed the silence to gather as he parked in the empty alley next to a dilapidated excuse for a building. When Xander lead him inside that very building, he frowned. How any living thing could live like this, he couldn't imagine.

He wouldn't live like this.

Xander unlocked the door with a twist of the rusted key inside the rusted lock. It grated and squeaked and finally Xander was inside.

Spike leaned against the doorjamb and waited.

When he wasn't followed inside Xander turned around, frowning confusedly. "Uh...why aren't you coming in?"

"Invite me, pet."

Weird, but alright. Whatever the customer wanted, they were always right. "Uh...okay. Come in."

Spike's easy demeanor changed and he grinned wickedly, showing slightly sharp canine teeth between plush lips that Xander oddly found he wanted to kiss.

Spike stepped over the threshold with an almost triumphant gleam in his eyes, shut the door and then stalked Xander across the tiny apartment to the bed, which was only a mattress on the floor with old, holey sheets and lumpy pillows. He pushed Xander down on his pathetic excuse for a bed and dropped on top of him.

When Spike's erect cock touched Xander's the brunet shuddered, confusion warring with fear inside him over the feelings he was experiencing.

The blond leaned down to kiss him and he jerked away, surprised. The other man's weight pressed down on him suffocatingly. "Uh, what...what are you doing?"

As if talking to a small child, he said slowly, enunciating each word. "I'm. Going. To. Kiss. You."


Spike sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position between Xander's absently spread legs. He propped himself up on his forearms, wriggling his lower body with a pleased sigh. "Because it bloody feels good? It's part of the foreplay? What more do you need to know? Pucker up, Xander."

"I-I don't do that. No kissing. It's, umm, a rule. No kissing and no fucking. I'll blow you. Just...get up and roll over and I--"

Spike's eyes hardened. "I don't think you're understanding me, boy. You don't really have a choice here. I'm a paying customer and I'm telling you what I want."

"I don't see any money, pal. And I don't think I want this anymore. Just go, no charge." Xander tried to push the other man off him but surprising strength from lean, muscled arms and legs held him in place. "What are you doing? What do you want from me? I told you before I don't fuck or kiss, now get off me."

Spike licked his lips and grabbed Xander's head. "Shut up." And then his mouth was on Xander's and Xander was awfully glad he'd taken the time to buy some minty fresh mouthwash because Spike was plunging his tongue into his mouth and trying to clean the bottom of his esophagus.

For long moments, he just lay there and let Spike do what he wanted. He couldn't stop him, he'd found that out just minutes ago when he couldn't dislodge the other man from him. His mouth was plundered by one that obviously knew what it was doing and had a lot of practice at it but Xander didn't know what to do.

He'd never been kissed before.

No one had liked him back in Sunnydale. He hadn't practiced with Willow because that would've ruined their close friendship and turned it into something else, something that wasn't as strong and wouldn't last as long as their relationship had.

He'd had no one else. And he didn't know.

Spike pulled back in confusion. "Are you going to kiss me back, or what? Don't got all night, you know."

Xander blinked. "Umm, I'm sorry. I just...well, do it again and I'll try."

"Try? Alright. Give it another go and we'll see. You been sucking cock all these years so you've got to know what to do with your mouth, right?"

Xander blushed but held the blond's gaze and this time when Spike pressed his open mouth to his and stuck his tongue inside...well, he wasn't ready, but he didn't freeze and go into brain-locked-meltdown.

He tentatively brushed his tongue against Spike's, oddly enjoying the little gasped moan it caused, and then he was kissing Spike with fervor.

Hot, sweet, wet and strangely cool. That was what Xander felt. He felt so much, so different from what he was used to.

His first kiss wasn't a disappointment. And with this man? He was glad he was experiencing it with him because, anyone else? It wouldn't have been the same, wouldn't have been as satisfying and bone melting.

He'd been missing so much for so long. This was long over due.

Spike pulled back and Xander tried to follow with a disappointed whimper and wet puckered lips. "What...?"

"Time to get naked, pet."

Xander's breath hitched. "Um...I-I'm not sure..."

"I'll give you two hundred to let me fuck you."

Xander's eyes widened and his brain stuck on pause for a moment.

Two hundred? Two hundred dollars for a fuck?

Despite his reluctance and his desire to lose his virginity to someone he actually cared could he pass this up? He desperately needed the money.

His resistance broke down.

With a deep sigh, he stared into the ice blue eyes of the man he barely knew and he realised then that this man was different, that...maybe it wouldn't be so bad to give his innocence to this man. Who better to give it to than someone who showed something more than casual interest in him?

He knew it would be good. Spike was passionate and the kiss was like fireworks straight down through his normally flaccid-during-work cock.

He couldn't imagine how the sex would be.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Umm...I-I guess."

The smile Spike gave him was worth his anxiety and fear of pain.

"Got any slick?"

"I-In my pocket." Spike raised an eyebrow. Xander stuttered. "It's easier for the hand jobs."

"Give it here."

Spike pushed off him and he missed the weight and surprising lack of heat almost immediately but he pulled the lotion from his pocket and tossed it on the bed to Spike.

What better use for lotion was there?


When Spike eased into him it was like a revelation. Yeah, sure it hurt quite a bit at first and the fullness was nearly overwhelming and he felt like he was going to split wide open, but after the blond pushed in completely, resting inside him, just staring down at him with an unreadable but almost fond gaze...well, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

This wasn't what he'd thought it would be.

He couldn't even remember the lack of condom use. Yeah, it was that good.

He'd known it would be different, that it could change him but he hadn't known how much.

And then Spike started thrusting, slow and easy and pulling out nearly all the way before pushing back inside firmly. He angled his hips and as Xander opened his thighs even more and rested his heels on Spike's clenching buttocks, the blond hit something inside the boy that was earth shattering.

Xander's eyes opened wide and he grabbed onto Spike's shoulders, held him inside him with tensed legs. "What the hell was that?" he gasped.

Spike chuckled and leaned down to nuzzle his throat. He whispered in his ear, "Your happy spot. Called the prostate, pup. Like it?" He thrust hard and kept pounding against that wonderful place that made Xander see stars and gasp unevenly. "Good, innit?"

"Yeah," Xander breathed, eyes squeezing shut. He'd never thought someone's dick up his ass could feel so damn good.

Maybe he'd revise his opinion of letting his Johns take him...

Spike screwed his hips around and Xander groaned.

Then again, maybe he'd reserve that pleasure for those who knew what the hell they were doing.

Spike, for instance.

Sharp teeth nibbled at his neck and unconsciously he turned his head, allowing Spike better access. There was a prick that almost hurt and he frowned, but then Spike touched that place some more and he was cumming long and hard without even having touched his cock.

Spike came inside him and he could feel suction on the flesh of his neck. He started to feel a little weak and then he started to lose consciousness.

He could feel Spike's ejaculation inside him and then knew nothing.

Odd that it wasn't hot like he'd been expecting, it was almost a cooling balm...


Xander woke up with a headache from hell, dry mouth and momentary amnesia. When he finally dredged up enough strength to open his eyes, he shifted and then the soreness between his buttocks made itself known and he remembered.

He groaned and rolled onto his side. He looked at the cheap wind-up alarm clock and noted that it was after seven. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to get to work on time. He hadn't even set the alarm.

As he got up, he leaned on a piece of paper, crinkling it noisily. He stared at the two hundred dollar bills with hunger and lifted them up to read the note.

Until next time, pet.

His heart galloped inside his chest and he felt an unfamiliar strange giddiness. He tried to squash the feeling but it followed him through his hurried shower, through his hiding of the money, through his dressing, through his jog to work.

He was acting like a lovesick kid.

He couldn't be in love with the guy, could he? He didn't even know Spike.

Hell, they'd only been together a couple of hours, if that.

He must be going crazy.

"Hey, Harris, that's a helluva hickey you got there. You get lucky last night?" his co-worker Bobby snickered as he flipped some patties on the grill.

"Wha--?" Xander hadn't noticed any hickey, but then he hadn't even looked in the mirror that morning in his haste to make it on time to work. He was still wearing beard stubble.

At his earliest chance, he went to the rest room and looked in the mirror.

He gasped in shock, eyes widening and mouth opening in horror.

Spike had bitten him.

He fingered the two marks gingerly, wincing as pain and then pleasure lanced through his body from the wounds.

What the hell was this?

Part Two

Three days later left Xander melancholic and going through the motions of his daily job and nightly one. He got little sleep, worked all day at the crappy burger place, got quite a few customers with quite a bit of cash after his day job ended and his new nightly one began but somehow it meant very little.

He scowled as he slammed the car door on his way out of his most recent John's car. He stuffed his hands in his pockets along with the cash he'd been given and made his way back to his corner.

If he was lucky he'd get at least a couple more for the night, then he had to go home, swish some kind of astringent around in his mouth to get the taste out, shower until his skin hurt and then pass out so he could get up and do it all over again.

His life really sucked.

He blinked against the tears that threatened to roll down his flushed, gaunt cheeks.

It just wasn't fair. The one guy that he'd actually liked and that he'd given himself to like no other and...well, he hadn't seen him, dammit, and that was making him fall into a depression that rivaled that of when Willow had died.

He felt stupid but couldn't just turn off what he felt.

So, he tried to ignore it, at least for a while. He stood back, wrapped his thin arms around himself and waited for the next man to come along and take him off to do unspeakable things.

After half an hour a jeep pulled up, a thirty-ish male behind the wheel. With a forced grin, he walked up and flirted and did his thing, named his price and soon he was inside the very nice leather interior and riding away to a darkened place to blow this guy.

Afterward, he was paid and let out near where he'd been picked up and Xander decided he wanted to go home. He couldn't go to work the next day on so little sleep again but he didn't have a day off due for another couple of days because they were short-handed at the moment so he couldn't take a sick day or anything.

He sighed, got picked up twice more and then finally headed home.


When he finally had a day off, he slept until the sun wasn't shining anymore and found he felt almost refreshed and rested. He paid his rent and with the rest he did his laundry, bought a few staple comestibles, some hygiene products and then headed out for another night of hooking.

It didn't take long to get a customer. A perverted older man with greying, thinning hair and wire-frame glasses with beady eyes who looked right through him; they were green and glassy.

The guy had been drinking.

But he was nice so that didn't matter. Especially when he showed Xander a hundred before he could even name his price.

Xander made the blow job worth the money and then left the old guy to recuperate in his Jaguar in the alley they'd parked in.

Four more guys and he was ready to hit the sheets. He was so tired and felt so used...he hated that feeling. It never went away, no matter how much hot water he used in the shower later.

He got a bite to eat before heading home, treating himself to a rare Chinese take-out. It was the best meal he'd had in a long time.

He showered for as long as the hot water held out, gargled and brushed his teeth for five minutes until his gums were threatening to bleed and then he passed out face down on his mattress, naked and alone.


For a second, Xander couldn't remember where he was or what had woken him but then he heard the knocking on his door again and groaned as he rolled over. He blinked, squinting at the little clock beside his bed. It was only a couple of hours since he'd gotten home and to sleep.

No wonder he was feeling groggy and very crap-like.

Well, it couldn't be his landlord, he was all paid up. And no one else knew him or where he lived...

A burglar wouldn't knock, would he?

He dragged on one of his newly laundered pairs of jeans and stumbled across the bare floorboards of his apartment to the stained, paint-chipped door.

Leaning against it, he said warily, "Umm...who is it?"

"It's me, pet."

His heart soared at that distinctive voice and he had to take a few breaths to calm himself down. It was pathetic he was so eager to see this guy, this guy that he didn't even know.

He opened the door and smiled slightly. "Hey, Spike."

"Hello, Xander," Spike drawled, one hip jutting out and a couple of fingers in one of the front pockets of his jeans as he leisurely leaned against the door jamb. "Let me in?"

Well, this was different. A customer coming back uninvited and wanting...well, something.

Xander licked his suddenly dry lips then stepped aside. "Come in, Spike."


It happened much like the previous time. Xander was unceremoniously tumbled onto his own bed, Spike shed their clothing, lubed up and fucked him nearly unconscious and then Xander felt sharp teeth and a bite and he was nearly unconscious when Spike pulled out, redressed and tossed some bills onto the side of his bed, much like the first time.

"Spike..." he whispered, eyes barely open, mind barely able to follow what was going on.

"Lovely bit, you are. Can't get enough of you, it seems like. Going to have to set up a time to meet. Been thinking about you since the other night, pet. Can't get you out of my head. Want you more and more. How about in two days?"

Xander couldn't figure out how to make his mouth work right, so he just nodded in agreement. And when Spike smiled a tender -- tender? -- smile and rubbed a thumb gently across his bottom lip before he left, Xander frowned in confusion.

Did Spike care for him as well?

It would be nice to have some reciprocation on the emotion front.

Not that Xander had any expectations, though. It would just be...nice.

The door shut gently and Xander figured he'd better get up and lock it before someone came in and stole what little property he owned but...he couldn't seem to find the energy and sleep was calling so provocatively to him that...

...he fell asleep.


It became routine after that. Xander would do the daily grind and his nightly rubbing and/or sucking and then every other day or so Spike would come and fuck him into unconsciousness, leaving a couple hundred dollar bills on his bed, sometimes more.

Xander actually had some extra cash for once. Not that he wasn't going to be frugal about it. He was going to save up and maybe get a better place to stay. Or at least get a better lock and door for the apartment he had now.

Maybe a nice throw rug or a tv and vcr or something too.

A month of visits from Spike and he was feeling better about himself, his life. He'd gained some much needed weight, had regularly clean clothes, had food every day, at least two meals and maybe some much missed snacks.

They started doing things other than fucking. Spike took Xander to the movies -- a welcome experience, because he hadn't been in years; to restaurants with table cloths and three different kinds of forks and spoons; to the mall for a night of browsing through clothes -- even buying Xander some when he expressed interest.

Things were beginning to look up and he could attribute the changes to one generous, mysterious and beautiful man named Spike.

A man he'd come to love more than anyone he'd ever known despite how little he knew about him.

Xander started to trust the blond more and more and began telling him little tidbits about his life, to which Spike would listen attentively, blue eyes never wavering, mouth sometimes smiling or frowning or in a hard line depending on what Xander related to him.

And when he asked Spike about his -- at those few moments they weren't fucking or going out -- Spike would grin cheekily and make up an outrageous response that would amuse Xander.

"How old are you?" Xander mumbled around the Chinese food Spike had brought him.

"Well, let's see..." Spike forked a mouthful of noodles into his mouth, sucking them from the utensil with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Was born in 1855...that makes me a few months shy of my hundred and fiftieth birthday."

Xander blinked, finished chewing his food, swallowed and then carefully set the box and fork down. Then he laughed so hard he snorted and nearly knocked over the food containers sitting precariously on the mattress they were using as a picnic table.

"What?" Spike asked innocently, still chewing, eyeing Xander with no little amusement and more than a little warmth.

"You make up such out-there stuff, you know?"

"Who says I'm making it up?" Spike grinned a lop-sided grin, eyebrows wriggling. "I'll tell you anything if it makes you laugh like that. You don't do that near enough."

Xander frowned as he picked up his little white box of food. "How do you know? You're only with me a few nights a week..."

Spike's expression closed off. "Finish your food. I want a fuck. Want you to ride me."

Xander stared at him, confused and a little hurt by the abrupt change of mood but he didn't say anything. "Okay."


"I don't like you selling yourself like this. I want you to stop," Spike said, nibbling on Xander's shoulder as he was wont to do.

Xander stiffened underneath Spike's weight, pushing him away. "What? What are you talking about?"

Spike rolled his eyes and moved off Xander to lie on his back. He stared up at the water-stained ceiling. "Want you to quit whoring yourself out for fifty quid. It's not good for you, pet."

The brunet's eyebrows knit together in a frown. "You don't have any say in what I do, Spike. You're paying like all the others do. I have to do it. I can't survive on my crappy Burger Hut wages. There's no other way."

"Yes, there bloody is. You quit and you pack up your shit and we'll leave this fucking town and your whoring days behind. Go some place where they don't know you or me and we'll shack up there. Can still pay you if you want...if that's your kink."

Disbelief and then hot rage shot through Xander's veins. He jerked up, pulled on some jeans and glared at Spike, who was staring coolly at him. "First off, you don't get to tell me what to do because, despite your paying me, you're only renting me for a little while. Second, I like it here and I'm making good money. I don't think you could afford me, Spike. I don't think I like where this is going. I want you to get out."

Spike sat up, mouth open in shock. "You're telling me to get out? That I can't want better for you? That I can't take you somewhere you don't have to whore yourself out? You know what? You can just sod off!" He grabbed his pants and wriggled into them from his reclined position on the mattress. "All this time spent following you around, keeping tabs on you to make sure you're alright and giving you money so you can feed yourself're mine, make no mistake. This is just a hiccup in my plans, you got that? You're not gonna stop what's meant to be, pet. No way, no how. Gonna keep you forever and there's nothing you can say or do to prevent it. I'll give you a few days but I want you to stop hooking and you can keep your dingy little grease selling job till we leave but I want you packed in three days and waiting for me."

And with that, Spike left and Xander stared after him, eyes wide with fear.

Spike had been following him?

Maybe he was wrong about the blond. He was turning out to be psychotic! A possessive bastard who wanted to own him.

Xander shuddered and went to take a shower. He was going to have to think things through.

He was also going to have to see about trying to get a new place to squat, if even for a few days until this whole thing blew over.

Spike wasn't the man he'd first thought he was. That disappointed and saddened him.

He'd thought he'd found someone different, someone who cared for him.

All Xander had found was someone who wanted to control him.


Three days later, Xander was at his wits' end. He hadn't found another place to go. The cheapest motel was booked up because of some lesbian convention or something. He didn't want to spend his hard-earned cash on something frivolous like a better hotel to stay in, so he resigned himself to a confrontation that could cause him bodily harm.

He did go out and buy the best deadlock he could afford for his door, though. That gave him some relief.

He went out just as he'd done for the past month and a half and found customers. Two were regulars, paying extra for his 'quality merchandise' as they called it. Two were new but mostly very nice. But the last one...the last one was a bit worrying.

The middle-aged, balding man with a surprising muscular physique wasn't taking no for an answer. Xander had told him that he didn't allow himself to be fucked, that the man would have to be content with a hand or blow job but the man had gotten pissed off and had suddenly hit him hard enough for Xander's head to snap back and hit the window of the car they were in.

Xander started to scramble out of the car, trying in vain to find the door handle and open it but the other man was faster and grabbed him by the neck.

Hot, fetid breath blew in his face and he shuddered in revulsion as the man leaned in. But he wasn't kissed; the man whispered with deadly intent in his ear.

"You'll do what I want or I'll mess your pretty little face up so much that no one'll want to buy what you're offerin', boy. Do you get me?"

Xander whimpered, trying to breathe through the hand that was closing off his wind pipe in slow increments.

"No..." he choked, eyes bulging when the man tightened his grip.

"Oh, keep saying no, it'll just turn me on more. How's about we go into that alley and have a little more privacy and room for what I got planned, huh? I'll fuck you nice and hard against that wall and you won't soon forget it."

He was suddenly let go and sucked in a huge lung full of air to feed his starving lungs. He choked a little and didn't really notice when the man got out of his car and came around to his side. When the passenger door opened and the man grabbed him and dragged him out, he began to fight him.

He kicked and struggled with everything in him but nothing worked. The man laughed and pulled him close, grinding his crotch into Xander's bucking body.

"Yeah, you keep doing that. It's making it hotter for me. I like a struggle."

Xander's brain froze along with the rest of him. He was so utterly screwed it wasn't funny.

He was going to be raped.

"Oh, God," he croaked, sore throat burning.

The man flipped him around to face the brick wall and pulled clumsily at Xander's fastenings with a meaty paw. He got them open, tore Xander's pants down his thighs and then Xander could hear a zipper and knew the man was taking his own pants down.

He started to cry and clutched at the bricks in front of him. He had to get out now if he wanted to save himself. He had to at least try.

With an unexpected twist, Xander broke the man's tenuous grasp and started to run toward the mouth of the alley, trying to pull his jeans up in the process. He got no more than a few feet before a large hand was clamping down on the back of his head, pulling his hair and jerking him to a stop.

The man hissed in his ear, spittle flying onto the skin and making him feel even dirtier. "Ah, ah, no running. Fighting and struggling, yes -- running? No. Can't have you getting away before I get off, can we? You're a little whore, take it like a man. I'm sure you've done this a lot."

He was dragged back to his previous position, pants unceremoniously pushed down to his knees again.

He felt a blunt pressure at his anus and sobbed out loud. The man wasn't even going to use any lube! He was going to be ripped to shreds.

"Now, mate, that's not nice, you know. Kid don't want you, can't you see?"

Xander's ears perked up at the familiar voice. Spike?

"He's a whore. He's paid to want his customer. Now, shove off, I got shit to do. He'll get paid, don't worry about it. You his pimp?" Xander felt the man turn and look at Spike. "If you're not his pimp, I'll pay you to let me fuck you too. You're even hotter than this little piece of meat here."

A low, menacing growl echoed down the alley, making every hair on Xander's body stand up and the man behind him tense.


Xander felt a waft of air and suddenly the pressure of the man's hands were gone and he couldn't feel him behind him any more. He turned and watched in growing horror and disbelieving shock as Spike's face seemed to mold itself into some kind of grotesque creature with fangs and yellow eyes.

"What the fuck?"

Baleful yellow eyes glanced at Xander as white hands with unbelievable strength held the John at least a foot off the ground with ease. "Go back to your place. I'll see to you later, boy. We're gonna have a talk about obedience."

Xander turned and ran, but didn't get far before he heard a muffled scream, a tearing sound, some cracking and some loud slurping.


Xander stared at his door. The new deadlock gleamed brightly against the faded wood. He now knew that wouldn't keep Spike out, whatever he was. He was so strong and...

Well, Xander was just screwed, apparently.

Shit always happened to him.

He should've expected something like this...just not this, because it was too unbelievable.

Spike was what? A vampire?

Xander snorted derisively. He wouldn't have believed it before tonight but all the evidence added up, not to mention that little show Spike had put on just minutes ago.

He jumped when there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Oh, crap."

"Xander, I know you're in there. Can hear you breathing hard. Open the ruddy door or I'll break it down." A pause. "And you know bloody well I can."

Xander shuffled over to his door and slowly turned the deadbolt and the regular lock. Before he could open the door it was shoving him backward and an irate Spike was pinning him with those intense eyes of his.

"What did you think you were doing? I said three days and no more getting people off for money! Good thing I happened upon you when I did though, right? Your tight little ass would've been mince meat if he'd gotten to do what he'd wanted."

Xander scrambled for anything at all to say but found he couldn't think of a damn thing. So he just stood there with a stupid expression on his face.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Pack your stuff. We're leaving, now."

He suddenly found his voice. "I-I-I can't. I have a life here. Please, I won't tell anybody about, umm, what I saw. You'll never see me again, I swear. Just...leave me alone."

"What life, Xander? You want to keep being a whore? Because that's what you are. You want the threat of disease hanging over you and poverty forcing you to keep going despite it? I don't think so, pet. You need a keeper. You've been without someone so long you don't realise what the hell you're keeping yourself from. But you are coming with me even if I have to carry you kicking and screaming and, believe me, in this neighborhood nobody'll care what I do to you as long as it doesn't affect them."

Xander backed up slowly. "Uh, okay. I'll pack. Okay? Okay. Just...I don't have much." He hurriedly dug out his battered duffle and began stuffing clothes and the few other items he had inside. It was full to bursting once he'd finished and only zipped halfway but he was ready.

Spike nodded and turned toward the door. "Follow me, then. We've got to hurry, not much time till sunrise and I want to be out of this town."

"Oh, umm, yeah, you're a vampire, right?" Xander clutched the bag in both hands and followed slowly. "So, you really are a hundred and fifty years old?"

"Yeah. Not for another three months, though." He chuckled. "Bet that's not something you thought you'd find out, right? Shocked the shit out of you, didn't it, pet?"

"Yeah, you could say that," he said softly, then swung the bag at Spike's head.

It bounced off, only having mussed the vampire's hair and made him stagger slightly then, before the bag had fallen from Xander's hands, Spike had slammed the door shut and had him over on his bed before he could even think about what was happening.

The demon face stared down at him, fangs glistening, yellow eyes glaring. "Alright. We'll do it the hard way," Spike muttered, then lunged at Xander's throat and drank.

Xander floated outside his body as Spike continued to suck him dry and when he felt weak and small and detached...everything went dark.

It seemed like the end.


Xander didn't have to be a genius to figure out what had happened. He woke up without a heartbeat and not having to breathe.

Spike had vampified him!

He hadn't really believed it before, even with everything he'd witnessed. Now, though, it was difficult to deny anything when he was one of the walking undead himself.

He groaned and opened his eyes to stare at the glow of the television. He looked around and saw that he was in a hotel room, his bag was at the end of the bed on one side and Spike was nowhere to be found.

God, he was hungrier than he'd ever been! It felt as if it was eating him alive.

He licked his lips and then noticed his fangs -- they were rather sharp and pricked his tongue. Tentatively, he reached up to feel them, then his protruding forehead. He wondered what he looked like...if he looked anything like Spike had.

He sat up, stretched and noticed he felt better than he had since he could remember.

Maybe the whole vampire thing wasn't as bad as he'd thought.

He cocked his head as he suddenly heard footsteps coming toward his room. He heard a key in the lock, a heartbeat that made his mouth salivate, and then Spike appeared with a very willing victim who appeared to be attached to his mouth and groping as much of him as she could.

Spike winked over the girl's tilted head, then wrenched his mouth away. He kicked the door shut and prodded her until she moved toward Xander.

The brunet was amused and a little perplexed but he remained quiet. Spike was the boss here and he knew what to do.

The blonde girl looked at Xander, noticing she and Spike weren't alone. The dimness of the room prevented her from seeing his fanged face. She waved a hand at him, causing her barely covered breasts to jiggle. "Hey, I don't do twosomes, pal. I think I'd like--"

Spike's face contorted and he was wearing his own fanged visage before she finished her sentence. The girl started to scream but he clamped a hand over her mouth and man-handled her to the bed.

"Here. Bon appetit, boy."

Xander's fangs itched to be inside her neck and then suddenly they were. He drank hot draughts of blood that shouldn't have been so good but was. He felt himself harden; he tingled all over because of the elixir he was drinking and when she was finally drained dry he let the corpse fall with a thump to the floor.

He wiped his mouth, relaxed and suddenly he felt his face change. He felt his teeth with his tongue and his fangs were gone.

"You turned me into one of you."

"Damn right I did."

"You're my, what? My maker? My...daddy?"

Spike shuddered, eyes narrowing in pleasure at the thought. "I can be your daddy if you want, but you can call me sire."

"Sire," Xander rolled that around in his mouth and his mind. It seemed to fit, to feel right. "So, you turned me into a vampire, you sired me and now, what? We spent eternity together?"

"Yeah, probably. Get your shit, we're leaving again. Didn't get too far last night seeing as the sun came up less than two hours after I bit you."

"Yeah, well..." Xander trailed off as Spike grabbed the body and hefted it over his shoulder. As the blond left the room, making a stealthy getaway, Xander shrugged, switched off the tv and grabbed his duffle.

When he and Spike met back at the Desoto -- Xander had tracked it by the smell, which had been really cool for him -- they stared at each other.

"Where are we going?" Xander shoved his bag into the back, vaguely wondering why Spike had brought it at all.

Spike shook his head, crawled into the car, then watched as Xander did as well when he didn't say anything else. He started it, then took off with a spray of gravel. He didn't answer, but after a few minutes of driving he eased back in the seat, content.

An interstate sign proclaiming 'Mexico two hundred miles' sprung up ahead.

Spike quirked an eyebrow, smiling.

"How do you feel about Mexican?"

Here Endeth the Story

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