Roomies

WARNING: This chapter does contain CHILD ABUSE. I think that it is safe to say that there is an implied HISTORY OF CHILD ABUSE as well. If this does not sit well with you, please skip this chapter. This not a pivotal chapter and, therefore, you won't miss (too) much if you decide not to read it.

Disclaimer: The characters of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel: the Series Universes (Angel, Cordelia, Spike, Xander, Doyle, etc…) are the creation of Joss Whedon and are, therefore, the property of him, Mutant Enemy (Grr, Arg), and 20th Century Fox (and all other affiliated parties). No money is gained from this work as it is created purely for the enjoyment of others. Please do not sue.

AN: Constructive criticism and friendly fedback are always appreciated. Flames will be used to warm my toes.


~Part 17: Won’t Be Seeing You Later Daddy Dearest~


Xander gave Doyle another grin when he stopped on the front deck. “Well, you followed me. Now you’re gunna have to listen to me beg you to grab some stuff,” he said running a hand through his unruly locks. A sound from the street caught his attention and he glanced over Doyle’s shoulder just in time to see Cordelia’s head disappear and Angel leaning into Spike’s touch. He shuddered in disgust at the sight of it: it was just wrong for Angel to be getting it on with *any*body let alone Spike *and* Cordelia.

He turned his eyes back to Doyle. “Would you mind going into the basement and grabbing some clothes while I chat with my parents?”

A grin tugged at Doyle’s mouth at the look on Xander’s face caused by the sight behind him. “Nawt a bit,” he stated and followed Xander inside.

Glancing around, Xander showed Doyle to the stairs before heading to the living room where he knew his dad would be. He was sure the man would be drinking away a paycheck that Xander suspected appeared via magic every week as he hadn’t witnessed his father working since junior high. He approached the room slowly and the second he entered the room another cold shiver ran down his spine. He really hated Thursdays.

The darkened room immediately warned him that something was up. His parents usually ended up drinking themselves into a stupor before they got the chance to deal with the turning off of lights. He eyes scanned the room until they instinctively stopped at the spot where Xander knew his dad was sitting. Finally his eyes adjusted and he found himself staring into the watery eyes of his drunk-off-his-ass father.

Xander felt like a deer caught in the headlights and considered just bypassing the talk with his father and going downstairs to help Doyle grab a few things. He knew that the end result of those action wouldn’t be of the good, which was exactly why he had ask Doyle to head downstairs without him to begin with. He ran his hands nervously over his jeans, trying to rid himself of the sweat that had gathered on his palms. He opened his mouth to tell his dad that he was leaving, to explain why he had bothered to come home this late at all, to something, *anything.* Any words were cut off when the larger man lurched, unsteadily to his feet.

Xander couldn’t help but back away as the man approached him. The glint in the man’s eye along with the sound of the liquid splashing in the bottle he held warned Xander that the more he backed away the worse it could get. That knowledge, like usual, did little to stop his scampering backwards movements, though.

“Well, well, looks like the good fer nuthin' faggot finally decided ta bring his fuck toy home with him.”

What little blood that was still moving through Xander’s veins turned to ice. That single slurred sentence cut through all his defenses and Xander began to tremble uncontrollably. In a very detached and appalled way he realized that he had faced multiple ends of the world with less fear then when it came to his dad. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and whispered, “I’m m-moving to LA. I-I f-f-found a job th-that I really en-en… um, like – better then con-const-struction even. Th-there’s even a p-p-place set up f-for me al-r-r-ready. Doyle offered to h-he-help me get some o-of m-m-my stuff.”

Xander couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t stammered in over a year. With the hundreds of speech therapy sessions that his mom had put him in since he was twelve, he would have thought that the stuttering wouldn’t come back at all. He fucking hated what his dad did to him despite everything he had tried to do to prevent it from happening.

Suddenly, Tony threw the bottle that he had been sloshing around in his hand. It caught Xander in the forehead above his left eye, leaving a deep gash, the hit sending Xander careening to the floor. Xander winced and grabbed his face in an attempt to control the bleeding. The intense pain that resonated through him and the amount of blood that was seeping through his fingers made him wonder if his dad hadn’t took out his eye with the hit.

“You stupid li’l *fuck*! Do you really think that I would fall fer that shit? I don’t believe a fucking word that comes outta yer mouth. Yer mother tol’ me that there’s money missen and I wanna know where it is, Boy. The li’l bitch may not be good fer much but she knows better then ta steal from me! I know you did it you dumb fuck and I wanna get it back. Now!” Tony screamed as he unsteadily advanced on his son, weaving dangerously with every step.

Scrambling back as fast as his one arm could drag him, Xander shook his head no. “I d-d-di-didn’t t-t-take anyth-thing. I-I-I s-s-swear!”

Tony laughed tonelessly as he neared Xander. “Yah don’t act like you didn’t take anythin’. If yah didn’t have my money you wouldn’t be on the floor, you’d be standing up like a man.”

He wavered alarmingly to the right and put out a hand to help gain some balance. His hand connected solidly with the end table, knocking over the empty whiskey bottle that had been sitting precariously close to the edge. He used his other hand to grab the bottle, stumbling with the effort.

He considered the bottle silently then turned to look at the way that blood was seeping from between Xander’s fingers. He shrugged and pulled his arm back; he was intent on hitting the boy until he admitted to his crime when a sound at the door caught his attention.

He found himself looking into glowing eyes set in a face covered in what looked like spear heads. His jaw dropped along with the whiskey bottle and he stumbled back. His eyes went to Xander and he realized that this was the ‘Doyle’ that he had spoken of. “You li’l shit, knew you were a fucking fag! Yer pro’bly such a bad lay that th’ only thing that will go with you is deformed. Get yer ass outta here you sick cock sucker and don’t you fucking come back!”

Xander pulled himself out of his panic and made a mad dash for the door, the front walk - escape. So intent on his escape, that he didn’t even notice Doyle shaking off his demon visage before following him. He ran out without a word to Doyle who didn’t bother to close the door as he too hurried out. They reached the car to find Spike and Angel smoking while Cordelia lay in Angel’s lap with a distant look on her face. A glance at the clock on the dash told Xander that Spike and Cordelia had been able to distract Angel from starting the car five minutes after Xander’s time limit was up.

The vampires both stiffened at the smell of fresh blood and Xander was faced with two sets of cat eyes. He dropped his head in shame, though kept his hand firmly in place over his eye, and climbed awkwardly into his seat, still not able to control his trembling. He didn’t see the silent exchange between Spike and Angel and the next thing he knew, his hand was pried away and something soft was pressed against his face.

~~~

The ride, so far, had been completely silent and Xander was starting to go stir crazy. He still had the trembles but, as always, a strange kind of excitement was running through him at the thought that he had made it out of his house on his own two feet.

That thought reminded him that he had a gaping wound in the general vicinity of his left eye and caused him to realize that he was sitting next to an evil bloodsucker. An evil bloodsucker that happened to be wearing a fuzzy white sweater but an evil bloodsucker none-the-less. Reaching up, Xander gently prodded at the makeshift bandage over his eye. He pulled his fingers away to find them glistening with the blood that had soaked through.

“Don’t worry pet, can’t harm a hair on yer bloody head. Though, I think’i'd be best if you didn’t fuss with the bandage,” Spike stated with a whisper of a grin on his face. He was watching Xander with what looked like worried interest. “Nice to know that I can still scare you. Woulda thought Red would’ve told you what happened in her dorm.”

Xander cocked his head to the side. He was quiet for a bit before asking, “What happened at the dorm?”

Spike stared at him slack jawed. After a moment he turned and slammed his fist in the direction of the seat in front of him. Instead of his fist connecting with the cushion he hit Angel in the back of the head. The dark haired vampire let out a un-vamp-like yelp and Spike grabbed his head, expecting the white-hot agony to explode through him.

Angel veered the car off the road and turned to the blonde with a look of horror on his face. Expecting to see Spike writhing in pain he was completely unprepared when, instead, he found himself faced with a large, toothy grin. Dread seeped into his bones and Angel waited for the worst.

“I can bloody well hit demons!” Spike exclaimed with child-like glee.