Fic: Lost Boys, Xander/Spike, BtVS all human AU, prompt #10 - Castaway

[strickens-girl.livejournal.com]

Once again, squeezing this in under the deadline. *shakes head at self* Looks like the boys suffer the brunt of my bad mood again. Read at your own risk.

Title: Lost Boys
Pairing: Xander/Spike
Prompt: #10 - Castaway
Rating: Mature/Adults Only
Spoilers: None. All human AU.
Warnings: Child abuse, incest, underage. Pretty much not suitable for anyone with a soul.
Summary: A day in the life of William and Alexander Harris living with their father.
Word Count: 1,275
Author's Note: This is a prequel for my stories Poker Night and Daddy's Boys. Xander is 13 and a half and Will is 16. This is kinda to help me gear up to write the final piece of this little trilogy.

Written for the tamingthemuse challenge of castaway.



Lost Boys

Xander sat on the couch, munching on chips he wasn't supposed to be eating, watching TV when he was supposed to be doing his homework. But it was ok. His dad had called and said he was stopping for a drink with the boss on the way home and Will had a study session after school. That left Xander home alone for at least an hour with no one to tell him not to watch stupid re-runs or put his feet on the couch or eat chips before dinner.

The sable haired boy was nearly halfway through the greasy, salty treat when his older brother burst through the front door.

"Da home?"

Xander chuckled at his brother. "Nah. He hasn't shown up yet. He called a while ago and said he was stopping for a drink."

He watched as the color seemed to drain from Will's face. Xander smiled and patted the cushion next to him. "Don't worry, bro. Dad's been cool the last few weeks. Come sit with me, please? Gilligan's on in minute."

"How can you watch that crap?" Will asked playfully as he flopped down on the couch, scooting in close to the younger boy.

"Because it's funny and even when something bad happens, no one ever dies."

Xander felt his brother flinch. Death was still a touchy subject in the house. No one spoke of it, no one dared. The death of Anne Harris was devastating for all the Harris men, but none more than Xander. The boy had lost not one, but two mothers, all by the age of thirteen.

"I miss her," the dark-haired boy whispered, tears filling his hazel eyes as he stared at the floor. "I know she wasn't my mom, but I miss her so much. Dad doesn't want to remember her, but I can't forget. Anne was more my mom than my mother was. I just don't understand why we can't talk about her."

Thin but powerful arms wrapped around Xander's shoulders and pulled him in close. Xander never felt safer than when he was enveloped in Will's strong embrace. They snuggled close, both munching quietly on the crispy slices of potato, trying not to cry, when the door slammed open.

The boys quickly burst apart, each hurrying to opposite ends of the couch as their father stormed in the room. Tony Harris stood before them, face flushed red with rage and drink, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. His bloodshot eyes turned toward the dark haired boy cowering at one end of couch.

"Xander," the seething man growled, "What's going on here?"

"N-n-n-nothing," the terrified boy stuttered. "Will and I were just..."

"William," the man barked, "I thought you were supposed to be going to a study session tonight. If you fail that literature class, I swear I'll..."

"I already went, Da," Will interrupted. "It's after seven."

Tony Harris stalked forward, towering over the blond boy on the couch. He reached down with a single meaty hand, grabbing the collar of the boy's shirt and pulling hard. "Don't you ever talk back to me."

"No, sir," Will squeaked out.

Blood shot eyes turned toward Xander, pain and malice burning from their depths. "You were talking about her, weren't you?"

Xander stared, panic racing through him as he desperately tried to think of a response. He began to shake his head, praying that their father would simply calm down, but he knew from experience, that wasn't going to happen.

Will finally drew in enough breath to gasp, "No, sir."

The eldest Harris' attention shifted from his younger son to the older one in his grasp. Will's face was flushed with the lack of oxygen and the effort of containing his fear. Slowly, Tony Harris released the tight grip on the boy's shirt while his other hand reached up to stroke the sharp cheekbones.

"You look so very much like her, William," he whispered, his voice soothing and terrifying. "Every time I look at you, I see her. So beautiful. She was always so beautiful."

They remained like that, frozen in that demented tableau, as the boys waited to see what their father would do next.

Suddenly, Tony Harris jerked the blond boy off the couch, dragging the protesting boy out of the living room and into the kitchen. The familiar sounds of the struggle, of a palm strike on cheek, of a zipper being lowered made Xander sick to his stomach and he curled up on the couch, hiding in the fetal position, pressing his fingers in his ears to block the sounds.

It didn't help. He heard the obscenities pouring from his father's lips and the sounds of his brother's gags and muffled cries. He considered running in there, fighting back, yelling at his dad to stop, but only for a moment. The last time he had done that, he had woke in the hospital, listening to his brother weave a pack of lies about how Xander had fallen down the stairs. After the doctor had left, Will had made Xander promise to stay out of it, to let him handle their father.

The sounds became louder, harsher, more grotesque and Xander didn't know how much more he could take. He turned up the volume on the television and began to sing along.

"Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip. That started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship..."

Xander sang along, his voice loud and cracking as he tried to ignore the noise in the other room. By the time he was through with the theme song, he noticed it seemed quiet in the house. He removed his fingers from his ears, realizing the only sound was of harsh panting and quiet shuffling.

Soon, he heard his father grumble, "You boys fix meatloaf tonight and don't forget the mashed potatoes. I'm going to take a shower before dinner." The familiar sound of heavy footfalls leading up the stairs told Xander that their dad was gone.

Will shuffled into the living room before flopping onto the couch. Xander studied his brother in silence as the show's laugh track played in the background. He took in his brother's swollen lips, flushed cheeks and red rimmed eyes. Slowly, he began to scoot closer to Will, wanting to thank and comfort his best friend and brother.

Finally, Will lifted his arm, silently inviting Xander closer. The sable haired boy cuddled in, snuggling against his brother's still trembling chest. As he cuddled close, his arm brushed against the half hard bulge pressing against the denim fo Will's jeans. Listening intently for any sound from upstairs, Xander whispered, "Do you think Dad's coming back downstairs?"

"Doubt it," the blond boy replied. "He took a bottle of Jack upstairs with him. He'll be passed out by nine."

Xander nodded before unbuttoning and unzipping his brother's jeans. Without a word, he brought Will to full hardness and slowly began to stroke him as they both silently watched the outdated sitcom.

Finally, the younger boy whispered, "I wish this could be us."

"What?" Will asked breathlessly.

"This show," Xander explained. "I wish we could disappear like Gilligan and all of them. That we could just disappear so he could never find us."

Will sighed and shifted, scooting farther down on the couch to give his brother better access. "I think we already are."

Xander looked up, his confused hazel eyes meeting the glistening azure orbs of his brother. "We already are what?"

Will smiled sadly as a single tear slid down his pale cheek.

"Castaways."

~~~~ The End ~~~~