Speed Demon

Chapter Fourteen

The room was in shambles, splintered wood and shattered glass covering the floor. Willow had been off of the phone when he had come running back in at the sound of something smashing against the wall in the living room. Once inside the room, he had stood frozen, in open-mouthed amazement, as Spike picked up another chair and threw it against the wall.

Before Xander could even move, the boy had moved from chairs to figurines, paintings and the lamps. Willow had sat pale and silent on the couch, tears streaming down her white face, and when she had had to duck to avoid the sharp pieces of glass the shattered lamp threw everywhere, Xander had finally been pulled out of his shock.

“Spike! Damn it, stop!” he had yelled over the noise, and the boy had stiffened and turned, furious yet devastated eyes shining with unshed tears. A quick glance around the disaster he had made of the room and Spike had started trembling, eyes gone wide. Xander had softened his expression and took a step towards the distraught blonde.

“It’s okay, baby, just calm down. Everything’s fine,” he had murmured, not taking his eyes from the pale blue ones that seemed to beg him for understanding. At the soft tone of Xander’s voice, the boy had melted, his knees buckling. Xander had had to run the last few steps to keep him from falling to the floor.

He sighed now, sitting on the floor, back against the couch, holding the shaking, sobbing boy in his lap. Willow had quietly gotten up and slipped out the door when he had pulled Spike onto his lap and wrapped strong arms around his struggling body until the boy had sank against Xander’s broad chest and started sobbing helplessly.

Each soft aching sound was like a shard of glass ripping at him and he trembled in pain, fear and fury as he started rocking the boy. After a few long minutes of the harsh, brutal sobs wracking the slender body of his young lover, Xander was ready to start bawling himself.

“Shh, baby, please. You’re breakin’ my heart, here. Shhh, please don’t cry,” he crooned to him softly, pressing his cheek against the soft white curls, damp with tears. The boy gave a soft hiccup and buried his wet face in the crook of Xander’s neck, clinging to him fiercely, like a child. Xander ran his big strong palms soothingly up and down the long spine under Spike’s thin t-shirt and held him close.

When all that remained of the startling outburst of anguish was some slight tremors and shallow breaths, intermixed with the occasional hiccupping gasp, Xander reached down between them and clasped Spike’s chin in his large hand, tilting his face up. Concerned brown eyes frowned down into wet, child-like blue.

“Wanna tell me what brought all this on, baby?” he asked softly, but firmly. Even knowing that it wasn’t exactly a request, Spike still shook his head and buried his face against Xander’s neck once more.

“Spike…” he started, warningly, voice gruff. The slender body in his arms stiffened slightly at the tone but didn’t move otherwise. “I’d like to think I’ve been very patient, baby, but I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s goin’ on.”

There was a long silence, filled only with the sound of Spike’s still unsteady breathing. Xander wasn’t going to push further, so he simply waited to see if his lover would trust him with the burden he had been carrying so long, or whether the conversation was still to be sometime in the future.

Finally, in a whisper so low Xander almost didn’t hear it, Spike drew in a shallow breath and said, “M’father’s comin’ to the race on Sunday. Called Willow to tell her to let me know.”

A frown crossed Xander’s face but he remained silent, waiting to see why that would cause the total destruction of the hotel room and the boy’s subsequent breakdown.

A low, almost bitter, laugh came from the raw throat of the body in his arms. With a sudden jerk away, Spike broke free from his arms and slid over, so that he was sitting next to Xander with his back braced against the couch, too.

A white shaking hand reached inside pale denim pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Pulling one out and lighting it, Spike drew deeply on it and sighed, blowing the smoke up at the ceiling. Blue eyes closing to half-mast, in a neutral and emotionless tone, he started telling his story.

“He was my idol, he was. Mum had died when I was two, remember, so I never knew her. Best thing he ever did was marry Willow’s mum so we could have each other.” He blew out another slow stream of smoke, and continued. “They weren’t around much, my father and Willow’s mum. He was racing all the time or doing commercials, y’know, the shit we do. She’s some fancy professor, always traveling. Me and Willow, we raised each other.”

Xander smiled at the pride and affection in the boy’s voice but his eyes were sad as he listened, knowing it would only get worse.

“Every few weeks, though, he would come by for a visit, take me out with him racing or to the park, dad shit.” His voice got dreamy. “Was cuz of him I started racing, of course. He taught me how to drive when I was twelve, was racing on kiddie tracks by the time I was thirteen. He was so proud. The man was everything to me, him and Wills, and I could and would go months, years, on just a word of praise from the fucking bastard.”

Xander listened as Spike’s voice got rougher, words coming faster. Slowly reaching over, he slid his arm behind the agitated blonde’s head and tugged him a little closer.

“By the time I was fifteen, he was taking me away for weeks, showing me off, bragging all the time over how good I was becoming. I’d never been happier than those few months when he actually looked at me and saw me, like I was someone important. It was like living on a cloud, day in and out, knowing you were the happiest you could ever be, right then and there,” his voice broke on the last word and he cursed softly, drawing deeply on the almost forgotten cigarette in his hand.

“Then I met Wesley. Wes was a few months younger, all dark hair and blue eyes, huge glasses. Adorable git. Father was someone important in the racing world, fuck if I remember who now. Anyway, my dear Father caught us making out on the couch one night, we were so young, no clue what we were doin’.” Stubbing out the cigarette, Spike ran his palm over his face, rubbing at his eyes.

Sinking sideways against Xander, like he could soak up his strength, the boy finally breathed in deeply and continued, his voice almost dead in its lack of emotion. “Yelled a bit, scared Wes on home, then started on me. I dunno what I was expecting, disappointment, maybe, a ‘you are too young to be snoggin on the couch’ kinda deal, but I wasn’t expecting what I got.”

A quick shallow breath, the start of a sob, and Xander pulled him back into his arms, rearranging the boy so that his head was over the older man’s heart, soothing him.

“Kicked the shit out of me, he did. He’d never hit me before. Spanked me some when I was a little tyke, but never raised a fist to me. I only remember the first few minutes, the total shock I was in, the pain. Had never been in a fight, was a dorky kid, all legs and arms. Fuck, it hurt. Woke up in bed, with Willow pacing frantically over me.”

He laughed harshly, the sound almost too painful to be a laugh.

“Two black eyes, broken nose, dislocated jaw…a few broken ribs, I don’t remember what all else. Think one of my hands were broken from where he stomped on it, Willow shared that lovely bit of info with me. Apparently, she had come home in the middle of it and had run to get the doctor. Bastard had left, snarling at her to tell me he would be back next month.”

His eyes squeezed tightly shut, Xander tried hard to keep his hands from clenching into fists, somehow knowing that that could possibly be the worst thing for him to do in the situation he was in. But oh, they wanted to form fists, they wanted to find the man and tear him apart.

Spike didn’t seem to notice the trouble he was having, the boy was lost in his dark memories. “S’how it started. Then he came back next month, and for some reason I had expected him to be sorry, to hold me and tell me he loved me, make it better, y’know? The things parents do on telly if they hurt their kid. But he just looked at me like I made him sick and told me to stay out of his way. I said something, don’t remember what, and he hit me again, re-broke my nose, blood everywhere.”

Xander clenched his teeth, every word out of Spike’s mouth making him sick. His stomach twisted as he felt the tell-tale wetness against his chest and he knew the boy was crying again.

“I was shocked. Dunno why, stupid ponce I was back then. Just stared at him in shock and he screamed to not look at him, didn’t want my filthy eyes on him. Hit me again and again and when I was on the floor, just started kicking me. Telling me it was for my own good, he was gonna beat the poof outa me. He came home every few months and I dreaded it, dreaded it so bad I started having nightmares, wetting the fuckin’ bed again.”

Spike snorted, trying to laugh but all that came out was a choked sob. “Fifteen years old and so scared of daddy, I was pissin’ in the bed. Thank fuck he never found out about that. He only stayed a few days each time and sometimes I managed to stay out of his sight. More often, I got the shit kicked outa me.” He rubbed his cheek against Xander’s shirt and said brokenly, “I didn’t wanna live.”

“Wasn’t for Willow, I wouldn’t have. Almost took a bottle of pills once, after he had tossed me down a flight of stairs. Broke my collarbone, left arm, split my forehead open. Coulda broke my neck and the bastard just left me there, at the bottom of the stairs, bleedin’ all over the place. Sixteen years old, in so much pain that I couldn’t move, just wanted it to end. She came in, though, and ripped the bottle away. Cried for hours, saying she was so sorry she couldn’t stop him, that she wasn’t strong enough. Everyone knew, you see, so it wasn’t like she could go to the police. My father was a legend there, could do no wrong.”

Xander was unable to stop the hot tears from pouring out of his eyes at the horrid reality of what his boy had lived through. His throat was so tight he couldn’t make a sound and he couldn’t breathe, his chest hurt so badly.

All he could do was rock Spike, hold him tight and hope he would be able to help later. Now, though, his emotions were in such a whirl that he didn’t know what to do.

“Wills always hid and cried while it went on and when it stopped, she came and helped me up, if she could, doctored me up. If it was one of the bad times, she ran for the doctor. Went on for years, till I turned eighteen and left for America. Got on the plane and never looked back.” He drew in a shaky breath and moaned, a frightened animal sound. “Why the fuck is he comin’ here? Why now?”

Xander blinked, having had forgotten what had brought it all on. The bastard was coming. A red film covered his vision and his heart pounded in his chest. For the first time in his life, he thought he could actually kill someone. And enjoy every moment of it.

Shakily, he stood up, after getting his rage under control. Spike glanced up at him from the floor, a pleading in his eyes, and Xander realized the boy expected him to be disgusted with him now, not want him now. He clenched his jaw and closed his dark eyes, trying to breathe in and not howl in fury at what the one person who should have cherished this beautiful boy had done to him.

The mental and emotional damage was more obvious than the physical now, but would be so much harder to ease. The pain and hopelessness from a betrayal that deep would take a lot of time and care to heal.

Bending down to pick up the big-eyed blonde, he sat on the couch and rearranged them so that he could lay back and pull the boneless body of the boy over onto his chest. Pulling the blonde head up under his chin, he crooned softly to him, murmuring, “No one is ever gonna hurt you again, baby. You’re mine now. Never hurt you, never, sweet boy…”

The emotional drain of the night had emptied the younger man and he sighed once, a soft whispery sound, and fell asleep in the safe, warm embrace Xander held him in. Pressing soft kisses to the mussed curls, Xander swallowed hard before giving in and letting his hot tears rain down on the soft white hair.

He wept silently, heart aching for the innocent boy in his arms, as he watched him sleep.