White Lightnin'

by
BmblBee

Part Six

Leaping effortlessly over the underbrush and darting around the well known obstacles, Xander rushed through the woods that he knew like the back of his hand. It wasn't hard to locate. He just followed the sound of the horn.

Reaching the road, Xander found it. The car had slid off the narrow road and slammed into a tree.

'Had to have been going at a hell of a speed' Xander noted. That was the only thing that would account for the way the entire front end of the solid chevy had buckled like an accordion. Steam rolled out of the crushed hood, and the horn continued to scream.

Approaching cautiously, Xander saw that the driver's door was slightly ajar. Pulling it open, he peered inside.

The driver was slumped over, lying face first on the bench seat. Reaching in to feel for a pulse in the man's neck, Xander was assaulted with the smell of whisky. "Figures. Fuckin' drunk"

Xander knew it was hypocritical, but he had no use for people who drank then made fools of themselves. He himself did not drink. Not a drop.

For him it was all about selling a product. Thanks to whisky, his own father, Tony Harris, had been a drunk. Started when Xander's mother died of cancer when he was ten. Continued on till Tony's death of liver disease the week Xander
was graduating from college.

But, hey, this was a free country and capitalism was the name of the game. He would make it, they would buy it, and everybody got what they wanted.

Quickly clamping down on his conscience, he reached in and pressed his fingertips against the man's jugular. The pulse felt strong and regular. 'Well, least he ain't dead. That would have been a mess to deal with'

Before he went any further Xander went around to the front of the car and reached in under the hood. He didn't need to see to know which wire would shut off the horn. Feeling around, he found and yanked. The silence that followed was blissful.

Standing back, Xander took a few moments to assess the situation. The car had crashed on the back road about one hundred yards from the lane that led to his property.

It was impossible to determine if the driver intended to continue on straight or if Xander's home was his destination. That was a thought that made him extremely uncomfortable.

Deciding the driver was in no real danger of dying, Xander set about searching for the answers to his questions and concerns. Opening the back door, he sat on the seat behind the driver.

There were two carry alls and a cardboard box. Checking it first, the box contained a full set of encyclopedias and an order book.

A traveling salesman?

Maybe.

Something about it didn't feel right.

Popping the latch on the first suitcase he found just what would be expected. Clean underwear, handkerchiefs, a couple white shirts, a pair of pajamas, and an extra pair of suit pants.

Resecuring it, he reached over and lifted the other. It was much heavier and made a familiar sound. Flipping the lid revealed it was full of bottles.

Two empty and four full. Whisky. Cheap.

Xander snorted knowing his shine is probably a higher quality drink than this shit. 'Must not be much money in sellin' books.'

Putting everything back exactly as it was he returned to the driver and rolled him over.

Xander gasped.

This was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. It took all the strength he could muster to not lean down and kiss those soft pink lips.

Gently, he brushed the blond curls back from the man's face. That's when he felt the hard, raised goose egg that was rapidly expanding on his temple.

He had taken a lot of hard hits playing football and was always told that if the knot comes on the outside of the head you will recover o.k.

The problem comes if the swelling is on the inside. 'Well this lump is definitely an outy so guess you're going to be
alright. Now the question is what to do with you.'

Standing back with his hands on his hips, Xander looked around as if by magic the solution to his problem would emerge from the trees.

"Shit. Can't just leave you here. Sure the hell ain't gonna try to take you to the law. They'd lock me up for sure. Wouldn't even care about no explanation and the nearest hospital is a hundred miles away"

Pausing in his rant at the silent man, Xander knew what he had to do. "God damn fuckin' cock suckin' drunk!"
He kicked the side of the wrecked car soundly, injuring his toe. "OW! Fuck!"

Reaching in, Xander grabbed the man by the legs and jerked roughly. Pulling him from the car, he flung the limp figure over his shoulder fireman style and headed for the cabin. "Sure ain't much to ya, is there? Light as a feather really."

Xander placed his hand firmly over the man's butt to steady him. Feeling the tight small ass caused his cock to twitch. He hoped to God he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

Reaching the cabin, Xander pushed open the door with his foot, ducked his head through the doorway and went straight for the small bedroom area dropping his load like a sack of corn meal onto the bed. Xander continued to bitch.

"Why the fuck did I bring him here? I just know this ain't gonna be nothin' but trouble." Looking down at his now erect eager cock Xander knew exactly who to blame.

"What the hell do you think you want? Sure as hell ain't none of that. So now my hand ain't good enough for you? Well tough shit cause it's all your gonna get."

His cock may have one eye, but it apparently had no ears cause it didn't hear a word he said. It continued to swell and ache. "Oh, hell. Come on buddy, lets go out back and see what we can do about that."

Xander left the injured man sleep while he took his wayward cock to the wood pile for a serious spanking.

Part Seven

Even with the cold air, it took only minutes for the talk with Xander's cock to reach it's inevitable climax. Again shaking it off, he tucked himself away and returned to the warmth of the cabin. Checking his patient, Xander was not surprised to see he was still out cold.

Putting a pan of water by the fire, he waited till it warmed. Returning to the man's bedside, Xander removed the handkerchief from his suit pocket and dipped it in the pan. Wiping his patients face he noticed that a small amount of blood from a hairline cut, and the rapidly bruising temple were the only things marring the beauty of the sleeper's face.

Xander dropped the cloth back in the water and ran his hand over the unresponsive face. It was smooth as a baby's bottom. Xander wondered how often, if ever, he had to shave.

He then did the one thing he was most uncomfortable doing. He began a search of the man's pockets for information and
identification.

He first removed the shoes, checked the soles for hidden pockets and set them under the edge of the bed. Next he slid off the trousers. The underwear matched that which was in the suitcase. If it had been different, the case could have been a plant.

Checking all the pockets, he found .32 cents, a small packet of headache powder, and a four leaf clover. Tossing the pants over a chair, he next peeled off the jacket. The lower side pockets held nothing. That in itself seemed suspicious, but he reserved opinion.

The inside breast pocket contained what he had been seeking. The man's wallet. Opening it he counted four one dollar bills.

A driver's license that gave his name as William Beemish of New York City. "Well, well Mr. Beemish. You certainly have come a long way. What is it you're looking for way out here."

Xander cocked his head to the side and studied the closed face of his patient. Behind the license was a business card that stated he was indeed an encyclopedia salesman.

Studying the card, he was struck by the feel of it. If he truly was traveling around showing this card to people and attempting to make a sale, why was the card so stiff and new feeling?

Placing the jacket on top of the pants, he quickly took off the button down shirt, leaving only an undershirt and boxers.
Covering him up with a heavy worn quilt, Xander sat back down at the hand made table and chair to think things through.

'Fuck. This couldn't have come at a worst time. Everything was running so smoothly. Got several big money customers expecting delivery tonight and no way to contact them.

But that might not be the biggest problem. What if this is a G-man. A revenuer

Pausing again he studied his visitor. 'Sure don't look like one. Wasn't no way this one would have the strength to swing an axe and bust up a still. Maybe he is just what he seems. Then what? Can't keep him'

Staring at his crotch he admonished, 'You heard me, you bastard. You can't have him!'

Sighing, Xander knew if he was going to try to make his deliveries tonight he needed to get packed. Checking the sleeping man one more time, he slipped quietly out the door.

Grabbing the wheel barrow he hurried back the path to the hidden still. Dumping out the sacks of corn mash for the next cooking, he started to load up with liquor filled crocks.

Returning to the barn, he took the key out of his pocket and unlocked the padlock. Wheeling the load into the barn he transferred the jugs to the crates in his car.

Rushing back, he repeated the process two more times. Finally securing the last of the liquor, he left the barn and
reattached the lock and double checked it.

His order this week was more than usual and the preparation had taken most of the morning and into the afternoon.
Afraid he had pushed his luck too far, he returned to the cabin. Upon entering he was relieved to see Mr. Beemish had not moved.

Hungry from the day's work, Xander took a jar of soup beans he had canned last fall from the shelf and dumped them in a pan by the fire. When they were heated, he sat at the table with a spoon and the pan. Not much need of using a plate when you ate alone.

"Oh, sorry. You hungry?" Xander lifted his spoon in the direction of the sleeping man. "No? Well let me know if you change your mind." Satisfied with the answer, or lack of, he continued to eat.

"Haven't had any one here to talk to before now. You don't mind do you?"

No response.

Xander continued "Get's kind of lonely up here. Not that I mind. Hell no. Had the chance to leave. To live in the city, but that just weren't me. Gotta know where your home is. Gotta know who you are. Know what I mean? What's that? Nope, never been to New York. So that where you were born Mr. Beemish? What? O.k. Billy, it is."

Xander finished his beans and had to admit it was very companionable to sit back and have someone to visit with.
Checking the time on his watch, Xander stretched and yawned. "Well, Billy, I hate to be rude but I'm workin' the midnight shift tonight so I believe I will take me a little snooze. No, no. Please don't concern yourself. I'm fine right here."

Throwing a quilt on the floor in front of the fire place, Xander curled up and went to sleep.

Part Eight

Spike moaned turning his head to the side. Prying one eye open in a squint, he tried to force it to focus. Thank God he was well familiar with alcoholic hallucinations.

If not he might have really thought he was lying in a cabin, a warm cozy cabin, with - hello - a sexy man sleeping on the floor. 'Damn, maybe I died and this is heaven'

Trying to remember what he had done earlier or at least how much he had to drink, Spike's brain came up a blank.
Deciding it was all something he could think about later, he turned his aching head around and slipped back into sleep.

Stretching his back and listening to each vertebrae snap into alignment, Xander woke and mentally readied himself for tonight's run. The sun was already down and near as he could figure it was probably after 10 p.m. Learning long ago to trust his instincts, Xander knew he could estimate the time to within fifteen minutes and seldom needed a clock

Silently climbing to his feet, he tiptoed over to his visitor to check his status.

Still breathing. Check

No bleeding. Check

Still unconscious. Double check.

Tomorrow morning after he got a little sleep if Mr. Beemish still would not wake up, he would make some decisions. Right now he couldn't think about anything but the run. He knew it took all his concentration and could not afford the distraction of anything else.

Washing his face and hands in the wash pan, Xander stoked the fire and quietly slipped out the door. Fishing in his pocket he pulled out the key and unlocked the barn. Just because Beemish's condition appeared unchanged, Xander knew he could not take any chances.

Pulling the gear shifter in to neutral, Xander pushed the Lincoln out of the barn and relocked the door. Thank the stars he had loaded it earlier. Even with the full moon, there was just enough cloud cover that it was a darker night than he had anticipated.

Climbing behind the wheel, Xander pressed down the clutch and allowed the car to roll forward down the lane and towards the back road he would take to make his deliveries.

Once he felt he was enough of a distance from the cabin and had a good speed coasting, Xander popped the clutch and the engine roared to life.

He wasted no time in slamming it into second and on a double clutch, third. The adrenalin kicked in, as it always did, and he was off with a "Whoop!"

It was one of those nights that just went like clockwork. Each customer was on time and the deliveries went off without a hitch. Everybody paid without threat and next weeks orders were higher than usual.

Time and the Lincoln flew by. Both flashing in the moonlight like a ghost.

Checking the sky he calculated it would be daybreak in a couple of hours and he was down to his last stop. This was an out of town juke joint run by an old man name of Joe Smith.

Joe called his place "Percy's" and he was easily Xander's favorite customer. He was short, balding, and always chewed an unlit cigar.

He had told Xander once that they were too expensive to light, but he just couldn't kick the habit. He always saved him for last and took just a few minutes to chat. Xander had often wondered who "Percy" was but never got around to asking.

"Hey Joe. How they hanging?" Xander transferred his jugs from the crate in the back of the Lincoln to the bed of Joe's truck. and in turn took the empties from last week shipment.

He then finished up by throwing a stained oil cloth tarp over the loaded truck bed and tied it down.

"Xander, my favorite boy. They are hanging lower than they used to, and the old woodie got no more bark." He laughed and grabbed Xander in a bear hug. "Why you never come to see me?"

"You know I don't drink, Joe. Just ain't my thing."

"You ain't gotta drink to come visit an old man." Joe rolled the cigar to the other side of his mouth and shook his finger at
Xander's smiling face.

"You're right. I promise to come see you for a cup of coffee, o.k?"

Changing tone Xander leaned against his car. "Hey, Joe, you ain't heard nothing about a new revenuer in these parts have you?"

Taking the cigar out of his mouth, Joe spit the stray pieces of tobacco out to the ground.

"You seen somebody? There a stranger round here?"

"No."

Not sure why the lie, Xander suddenly felt the need to get back. "No, just wondered is all."

"Ain't heard nothin', but it don't hurt to be extra careful. You the best driver in these parts, and got the best shine. My customers always askin' for your stuff. Sides you one of the few shiners ain't never made nobody go blind from your shit.
That's real quality."

"Thanks, Joe." Xander collected his pay for the shipment and hopped back in the car. Rolling down the window, he waved
his hand out. "Take care, Joe. See ya next week."

Xander was already gone and missed the answering "Be careful, Xander. Don't take no chances!"

Flying back down the road, Xander hit his lane and slowed the cars engine to a hum. He pulled up in, and cringing at the rumble of the car's idle, he jumped out and opened the barn door.

As quietly as possible he parked and secured it. Creeping back into the cabin, he briefly checked the stranger then laid down on the floor exhausted.

Both men remained where they were for the next eight hours. The cabin cooled as the fire slowly died, and the light of day
flooded the room.

Finally hunger, thirst, and the overwhelming need to piss nudged at Spike's body and caused him to rouse. Opening his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the wooden beams of the cabin ceiling.

'What the fuck?' Rolling his head to the side he noticed the man on the floor and had a sudden moment of deja vu.

Struggling to remember, it gradually came to him that he had wakened up earlier to what he had assumed was another game
of the mind.

Not like he hadn't wakened up before in very strange places, he found the best thing to do was to slip out quietly and pretend nothing had happened, which usually it hadn't.

Attempting to swing his legs over the side of the bed shot white hot shocks of pain straight up his spine and splintered in his head

"God Damn!"

The pain that traveled through his head felt like a sledge hammer. He'd had some hangovers in the past but this was way out of the realm of 'one too many'

Spike had a really bad feeling about this.

Part Nine

Xander woke up and jumped to his feet instantly when Spike screamed. Snatching his six inch skinning knife off the fireplace mantle he turned in the direction of the voice and raised his arm.

With his eyes closed and lost in the haze of his own pain, Spike was unaware of the reaction he had caused or the danger he was in. Moaning in agony, Spike clutched his head and tried to straighten his legs.

The desperate sound was all it took to snap Xander to alertness and bring back the flood of memory that explained the stranger, Mr. Beemish's, presence.

Replacing the knife, he tugged up his overalls and went to the bedside. "Take it easy, Mr. Beemish" Xander kept his distance while trying to sound as gentle and comforting as he could. As Xander's voice slipped into his pain soaked brain, Spike turned his face to the side and opened his eyes.

Xander involuntarily took a step back.

He had never see eyes that blue.

They gave the man's face a whole different appearance.

Suddenly Xander could see himself gliding closer. Dropping his bibs from his body as he inched nearer. He could feel the man's breath on the palm of his hand as Xander brushed his fingers over the closed eyes, cheek bones, and lips of this angelic face.

He could imagine lowering himself over the slighter body and feeling it squirm under him. Smelling his hair, Tasting his mouth, hearing those moans as he caressed and entered.....

"Who the fuck are you and where the fuck am I? And the name's Spike, not Mr. Beemish!"

'Oh yeah, angel has a potty mouth'

Xander smirked, then checked himself as reality knocked and entered the picture. This was still a stranger and Xander had way too much to lose to risk it on a pretty face and a tight ass.

Easily cloaking himself in his simple hillbilly routine, Xander looped his thumbs in his bib overalls and smiled openly.
"You hurt pretty bad mister? Ya wrecked yer car up the road a piece and I brung ya here. Ya been sleeping fer the longest.
Pert'near a whole day."

Spike laid there staring through pain wracked eyes. 'Oh dear God. Just my luck. Best looking guy I've seen in years
and he's a fuckin' imbecile. Christ, I need a drink and a piss followed immediately by a bullet through my brain'

"See here Lil Abner, I need a piss, a drink, and possibly a doctor. I think I'm paralyzed." Spike gritted his teeth trying to control the agony and panic.

Trying not to show too much concern, Xander figured the best thing to do was keep his distance emotionally and get this guy on his feet and the hell off Xander's mountain just as soon as was physically possible.

Everything about him was unsettling. The face, the eyes, the accent. There were a couple of boys at college that talked like that, soXander knew he must be from England. That only added to the question of what the hell he was doing way out here.

"Well, let's take care of the piss first. Seeing as how ya cain't git up, yer gonna hafta piss in a bucket."

Xander rushed out of the cabin to the shed for a metal pail. Taking a few minutes to compose himself, he wandered back the path and relieved his own full bladder.

Xander had never been one of those men who let his dick rule his life. He had his priorities and never made a decision with out weighing all the pros and cons carefully.

He had worked too hard to build up a life and business to let something as stupid as his cock throw it all away. Shaking said cock a little harder than usual as warning to it, he tucked himself away, grabbed the pail and returned to the cabin.

"Christ! I'm about to fuckin' bust here, Joe Bob. You gonna help me out or what?" Wincing in pain, Spike did his best to sound brave. Truth was he was terrified. He couldn't move his legs and his head was trying to explode behind his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Xander approached with the bucket on one hand and reaching for the strangers dick with the other.
"Whoa, what the fuck you doing? I said I couldn't move my legs. Never said nothing about my hands."

Jumping back Xander mentally slapped himself. Just what the hell was he doing?

Stepping back in, he held it down while Spike pulled his hard cock from his boxers.

Xander couldn't help but stare.

It was big.

Long and thick.

Pink and hooded.

Uncut.

Unconsciously Xander licked his lips.

Letting go with what felt like gallons of hot stored piss, Spike let the relief wash through him. Just as he finished he shook it off and glanced up in time to see Xander's pink tongue slip from his mouth to lick his soft full lips.

Spike moaned at the erotic sight. Assuming the sound was caused by pain, Xander stood quickly. "I'll go dump this then see to your back." Before Spike could answer, he was gone.

"Oh My God. Oh My God. Oh My God!" Xander dumped the bucket and paced frantically. "Get a grip on yourself. Put your best yokel back on and find out some information about this guy. You are losing it, Xander." Setting the bucket back in the shed, he calmed himself down, pasted on a slow smile and reentered the cabin.

"We ain't got no doctors round these parts, but I been takin' care of meself for always, and my Momma taught me alot, so let me take a look K?"

Having played four years of college football, Xander had seen more than his share of spinal injuries. He at least knew enough to know when there was real damage and when it was something the body could heal on its own.

Spike did not want this simple knucklehead poking around his back, but had to admit the man was in good shape, very good shape, fuckin' fantastic shape! So apparently he knew something.

"Yeah, O.k., but first I really need a drink. You got anything around here?"

Frowning, Xander's suspicious side started whispering in his ear. 'This could be a trap. Maybe he just wants to see if you keep any shine. Maybe he can walk and he's just trying to trip you up.'

"Sorry, ain't got nothin' I don't drink. Not a drop. No sir." Xander rocked back on his heels and smiled proudly. He could not be caught that easy.

Trying to hang on to the last thread of sanity he had left, Spike grabbed Xander's arm and pulled him down so that their faces were just inches apart.

"Look here you simple hillbilly idiot. I'm in pain and I need a drink. If you don't have anything here then go back to whereever my car is and bring up my cases. One of them has what I need in it. Do it Abner. Do it Now!"

Jerking his arm back and standing firm over the crippled man, Xander looked him straight in the eye and scowled.

"First, my name is Xander, not Abner. Second, when you wrecked yer car ya smelled like you already had plenty to drink. Now after I look at yer back I'll go get them cases, but fer now ya need to stop talking so hateful to me."

Knowing he was in a no win situation, Spike decided if he wanted this mountain moron to do what he needed, he should
shift tactics

"You are very right, Xander. I apologize. I'm just in so much pain that I really need a drink. Would you please go get my
carry alls for me?" Looking as miserable as he felt, Spike let his face do his begging.

Close to caving, Xander regained his common sense but held firm. What if this was a ruse to get him away from the cabin for a while. What if there was nothing wrong with this guys legs and he searched the property while Xander was gone.

He couldn't take that chance. "The back first."

He waited, curious to see how Mr. Beemish would respond.

Part Ten

By this time, Spike had decided to do whatever it took to get this grade school drop out to bring him his booze. Letting Xander roll him over on his side, the pain shot through his body with such force he could do nothing but sob.

Xander immediately stopped and gave the stranger time to adjust. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to be gentle. Can you feel anything at all in your legs or feet. A tingly, prickly feeling maybe?'

Taking a deep breath and allowing the pain to wash over rather than paralyze him, Spike tried to concentrate on what Xander was asking. "Yes. Yes, it feels like pins and needles. Do you think that is good?"

Gingerly, Xander eased Spike's undershirt up. Right in the center of Spike's back was an ugly large bruise. Looked like the shape of the door handle on the car.

He must have slid sideways in the seat and slammed his back against it when he wrecked. Probably already too drunk
or passed out to know what was happening.

Carefully running his hand over it, Xander felt the swelling and knotted muscles. He had seen this happen often on the
football field, though not as severe as this.

Xander knew the swelling around the spine would need a few days to come down. After that he should be able to walk
some, but it was going to be a long recovery, and a lot of pain.

It did bring a small amount of relief to know that he was not being set up. This was not a faked injury, still it didn't solve the problem of what to do with one very crippled Mr. William Beemish.

Spike clutched the quilt and strained not to cry out. Christ, if he only had a drink. "Well?" he asked through gritted teeth

"Ya got a lot of swelling and an ugly bruise around your backbone. Most likely cain't walk on acounta that. Take a few days for the swelling ta go down then we can see what happens."

Xander groaned mentally at the thought of this rude, gorgeous ass hole ('Now why did I think that term?') being here for
God knows how many days.

He couldn't possibly keep up this stupid hillbilly act, and how the hell would he keep his still fired up and next weeks shine
cooked and delivered.

This was not good. This was not good at all.

Allowing Xander to ease him onto his back again, Spike contemplated the diagnosis Dr. Stupid had given him. 'Bloody hell! There is no way I can lay here at this man's mercy for days on end. If he doesn't go get that case soon he is going to find out he has more on his hands than just a fuckin' cripple'.

It had already been way too long and Spike could start to feel his hands shake. The cramping in his stomach would flare up and in no time he would be in the middle of a raging case of the DTs

"Please, Xander, I let you look at my back. Now, please go get my bags. I really need a drink to ease this pain, please."
The man's begging stirred more foreboding in Xander than pity.

He had grown up the son of Tony Harris. He knew the signs of an alcoholic. The twitchin', the licking his lips like he is always trying to taste something, the begging one minute then the screaming threats the next.

Xander didn't know how bad Beemish's alcoholism was, but he knew this was going to get ugly.

Well fine. Who the fuck cares. I am not this brother's keeper. Sides, if he stays drunk I won't have to deal with him.

"Sure, Mr. Beemish. I'll go get your stuff right now. It's just a fair piece up the road. You rest here and I won't be but a bit." Xander got no response, but didn't really expect one.

He closed the door and took a deep breath of the cool mountain air. Leisurely, he started down the path. He was in no hurry. Waiting till he was clear of the view, Xander darted into the woods and circled around behind.

Making his way toward the still, he studied the area for any signs of change or disturbance. Satisfying himself that all was
as he had left it, Xander stoked the coals.

He knew if the copper coils of the still went cold the shine in it would turn. He had a couple more days before he would drain off this batch and would worry about the next one later.

Continuing on about one hundred feet further back, Xander approached what appeared to be a pile of brush.
Looking all around, more out of habit than fear, Xander pulled some of the scrub away to reveal a small cave dug out
of the hill side. Ducking his head he stepped in.

Immediately he was absorbed in the deep earthy smell of damp soil and foliage. It was a primal smell that always made him
feel one with the earth.

Crouching down he felt around and located the spare crocks he had stored along the cave wall. It wasn't much.

Just a few he kept in case his still broke down or was damaged. It wasn't enough to fill all his orders, but at least most of his best customers would be supplied. Joe would get his first.

Secure in the knowledge that everything was untouched, Xander reconcealed the cave entrance. Checking the tubing, coils and tub of the still, Xander banked the fire and started away.

Stopping as he always did at a fair distance, he turned to survey the entire area. Xander knew he would instinctively know if one twig or leaf was out of place.

But for now, it wasn't. For now, all was as it should be. Feeling somewhat better, he started again for the site of the wreck.

Spike watched Xander leave. After giving him a few minutes to make sure he was really gone, he allowed the tears to fall.
His life was so fucked.

He had no idea how far away the car was. Would he be gone five minutes or five hours? He had to hold on.

Thank God for once he did follow his superior's advice. There was nothing in the car that could in any way connect him
to the government. Not that he had anything to fear from Xander. Kid probably couldn't even read.

Besides, Xander wouldn't be looking for anything. 'Damn, why were the really good looking ones so unexceptable and untouchable. Why can't I find a man that wants what I want.' Spike felt the familiar saddness sweep over him.

Again the tears ran slowly from the corners of his eyes down to his ears. Unable to stop crying, he wiped his nose on the
back of his arm and automatically tried to turn over.

"FUCK!"

The pain shot through his body like a sword slicing up his spine.

"Xander!" Keeping as still as possible, Spike strained to stare at the doorway listening for any sound outside.

'Please God, make him come back soon. Jesus I need a drink.'

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