TITLE: The Fable
Warnings: Bad language and M/M sexual situations.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters used
in this story.
Summary: A new take on the old fable of Rumpelstiltskin.
Xander is held in the tower prison of the evil King Liam and has
been ordered to spin a roomful of straw to gold. Can he do
it? Is there someone who can help?
Author's note: This story is not betaed or spell checked by anyone but me.
If there are errors that you simply have to point out, feel free but don't be upset
if I don't care.
Other than grammatical errors, comments are greatly appreciated.
Thanks to Naughty Fae for the pre-read and encouragement
Link to previous chapters HERE
Xander held tightly to the mysterious man with the bent and deformed body and the fact that
he couldn't see him with his eyes made no difference what so ever because Xander had
seen Spike with his heart and that was the clearer vision.
Spike had come to Xander in his darkest hour. He had rescued him by spinning the straw
into gold but more importantly, he had saved him by offering hope, trust and companionship
in the desolation of the cramped, castle prison. During the seemingly endless hours of the
two nights they had spent together, they had talked, laughed and shared things in a way
that Xander had never done with another person before.
It hadn't been long into the first night that Xander had come to realize that the total lack
of visibility was really an asset. It was freeing. It was liberating. It blocked out the view
of the claustrophobic stone walls and allowed the illusion of an open space. It gave
the imagination free reign to pretend they were any where. On a picnic in a vast field.
Lying on the shore of Butternut Pond. Or possibly resting in the strange forest Spike
described as his home.
And now, as Xander's hands revealed the horrible truth, he came to realize that the
same blindness that had provided a small mental escape for him had also been concealing
another secret. It had cloaked the suffering and misery that Spike must have endured
every single day of his life.
Immediately, the questions began swirling around in his mind. Xander had seen boys
taken down by their fathers in the village with a backhand, cuff and even left bloodied with
a crop or whip. He had once watched in horror as a man was pummeled and nearly killed
outside the tavern for the crime of a stolen ale, his limp body left gasping and twisting in the
mud of the street.
Violence, to Xander, was abhorrent and just the mental imaginings of what must have been
done to Spike to cause these life and body altering deformities sent Xander's brain
reeling. Broken bones that were not corrected. Repeated blows to his back and arms.
It was all too much
It was simply too much.
Xander buried his face in the crook of Spike's neck and he whimpered. "Who did this to
you? Who hurt you like this?"
For a moment, Spike was bewildered until it dawned on him what the boy meant. With
no experience in the dark arts, Xander had misconceptions that had no basis in magic,
curses or enchantments. The boy believed this was a man made perversion. The result
of bones which had been fractured during the coarse of a beating or torture and, in truth,
in a way, Spike realized that it was. The only difference was that the weapon wielded
during the act was not a club or sword or even the bare fist of a powerful man. Instead,
the torment was issued at the utterance of a supernatural incantation and the gentle sprinkling
of a mysterious powder.
And yet the end result was the same.
William's life had been stolen and he was left with nothing but the daily struggles of an
unwanted monster. Suddenly, Spike wanted someone to know who the real beast of
the Kingdom of O'Connor's was. He didn't care what the repercussions may be. He
wanted the truth to be told even if the telling was too fantastic to be believed. "Liam did
this. King Liam O'Connor and his mage, Sir Rupert of Giles."
Xander gasped and he pulled back releasing his grip on Spike's forearms as he
whispered hoarsely in the darkness? "What? King Liam? He ordered this to be done
to you? But why? How? When?"
Spike's resolve was set. Bolstered by the connection he felt to this boy Spike decided it
was time to tell his tale and let the chips fall where they may.
"I was born twenty four years ago as the only son and crowned prince of King Edward
O'Connor. I was named William Edward O'Connor. I grew with the knowledge that someday
I would wear the crown and rule the kingdom. My world was this castle and my education
was handled by the most brilliant tutors within the land. As instructed by my father, I was
given the skills needed to be a compassionate, strong and fair King. Unfortunately, it was
not taught to me to recognize treachery and deceit within the walls of my own court. The
very men my father and I trusted were the ones who plotted against us. When I was a very
young lad, I was sent on a quest to prove my worth and these men were appointed to travel
with me as bodyguards and sentinels. For a time, all was well and then, one dark night,
their plans of treason and foul play were set in motion. I was caught shamefully unawares.
I was set upon by restraints and magics. I was cursed by a demon soul which deformed by
body and I was transported to an enchanted forest of unknown location."
Spike paused in his dramatic recanting of the events of his life. It had all rushed out of him
with such force and emotion that he was nearly breathless as his mind was bombarded with
the images of both his old life and the new. His blood pounded in his ears and his demon's
heart raced as if a herd of thundering buffalo had been penned up inside him, stomping
and snorting in an effort to be free and now, as Spike spoke, they had burst through the
fence on a stampede of words.
It was a contradiction. For Spike, the man, the telling was a huge relief but for the demon
that reside within him, the reaction was vastly different. The Dibbuk was a being that fed
on deceit, darkness and hate. Over the years it had grown powerful on Spike's loneliness
and sorrow. It roared with glee during the nights Spike had cried himself to sleep and it
lay fat and content within this shell of a man secure in the knowledge that there was no
hope of love to threaten its world.
But now the Dibbuk could feel the shift. It writhed in pain and revulsion in reaction to its
host's outpouring of emotion and truth. The demon was furious but Spike didn't give a flying fig.
In fact, Spike was nearly giddy as he waited for the expected onslaught of sympathy,
questions and regal adulation from the boy. He hoped Xander didn't feel the need to fall
to his knees and prostrate himself on the cold, stone floor at the realization of a royal
presence but if he did, Spike was prepared to magnanimously lift him back to his feet.
But the moment and the silence dragged on.
Oddly, the reactions didn't spontaneously occur and when Spike's truth-telling buzz began
to fade, he noticed that Xander remained pointedly quiet.
Spike scowled. His nocturnal vision pierced the darkness and much to his shock, Xander
was standing with his fists planted on his hips and a screwed up expression of
disbelief contorting his face.
Spike's evil yellow eyes blinked. "Wh.... You don't believe me!"
Confident that his actions couldn't be seen. Xander threw his hands in the air and lolled his
head around in comic reaction to the fairy tale he had just heard. It sounded like one of the
wild stories his own father would have concocted in the local pub after a couple of pints
too many. Probably much like the myth that had landed Xander in this very situation.
Still, the fact that Spike was some sort of loony tune with dilutions of grandeur didn't alter
the feelings that Xander had for him and because of that, when he responded to the
accusation, Xander tried for as much sincerity in his voice as possible. "Oh sure. Of course
I do. Why, I'll bet that kinda thing happens all the time. In fact.." Xander snapped his
fingers then tapped himself on the temple as he remembered an odd incident from his
childhood. "There was this guy that rode into our village one day. He sat atop a fine white
steed and he said he was out fighting dragons. He wore a full set of chainmail and carried
a long, curved sword. Said he was a knight from what he called a round table and that he....."
Spike was aghast! He had finally told his tragic tale of woe, named names and even pointed
the finger of blame directly at his accusers and to what result? He was being compared to one
of those crazy-assed dragon chasers! He was stunned! He was mortified!
"So you think I lie? You think I have made this fable of treachery and treason up for
Xander slapped a hand over his mouth the stifle a snicker. "No! Of course not! Oops,
I mean, of course not...YOUR HIGHNESS!"
Spike gasped and took a step backwards. He watched through the darkness as Xander
bounced, wiggled his butt and flipped his hands in the motion of two talking heads in a
mocking comical act of shenanigans.
Spike lowered his head. His lips strained to a thin line and he snarled darkly. "You best
beware, young lad. A man with the power to spin straw to gold can also turn a
smart-arsed, disrespectful boy into a wart covered toad with the wave of a hand."
Xander's antics immediately ceased and his fingers froze in mid-flip as he considered the
validity of the threat. His eyes bugged and his mouth fell open as the voice of the other
man in the room dropped several octaves and growled.
When Spike next spoke, it was just inches from the boy's left ear. "A wise man makes no
rash judgements especially when the wrong one could come back to bite him and only a
fool shows his arse to a hungry demon."
Not knowing if he should take the caution literally, Xander squeezed his butt cheeks,
slammed shut his sphincter and tucked his rump. If he had had a tail, it would have
been squarely between his legs. "You... You saw that?"
Spike grinned evilly. Irregardless of the boy's crude imitation of a court jester, it was hard
to stay mad. In fact, the liberation and weightlessness he felt from the unburdening had
Spike feeling almost giddy. And the best part was that the cat with the cream on his
whiskers had an innocent mouse in the room to play with. "I saw everything you did,
Xander and you were a very... very... bad boy."
Xander's feet felt bolted to the floor. The hair on his arms and legs prickled in fear while a
surge of excitement skittered just beneath his skin. He knew running blindly in the dark was
not an option and yet the insinuation of scolding in Spike's voice left no doubt that this was
an issue with consequences. "Um. Sorry?"
Spike clucked his tongue. "Tisk tisk. An insolent young man who has not shown proper
regard to the true head of the kingdom and worse than that, he has failed to pay heed to
the wild demon he is trapped in a cell with. Such a foolish young man. Such a reckless
As Spike spoke, he slithered around Xander like a rattle snake, moving so quickly that it
was impossible to pin point his exact location. In response, Xander's head snapped first
to the left then to the right as the pupils of his eyes strained to expand enough to gather
even the slightest fraction of light.
"Spike? Hey, don't forget. We're friends, remember? We just talked about that. You and
me. Buds. Pals. Chums. Course with you being King and all, and me just being a
lowly subject, I would have to be your slum-chum but, what the fuck, I'm good with
that." Xander snorted and chuckled nervously.
Spike reached out his forefinger and lightly grazed a hooked, sharp claw across Xander's
cheek and down his jaw line. "Oh, we are still friends. In fact, we are much more than
friends especially now that we have spilled our seed together. You know it's a funny
thing Xander. Kings and demons have a lot in common."
Xander shuddered, His breath caught in his chest at the frightening feel of the talon
skittering over his flesh. Knowing how close Spike was to him, Xander nostrils flared in
an attempt to pick up the scent of the other man. There! There it was. Just a whiff of
what Xander now associated with Spike. It was an earthy smell like roots and moss.
Green and woodsy. Rich and heady and in combination with Spike's words, it stirred
the memory of their earlier activity.
Xander blushed hotly. His heart rate picked up and his breathing quickened as his dick
stirred within his britches. He licked his lips as his left hand drifted across the front of
his trousers to press against his growing erection. It was no longer just the fear that had
Xander perspiring and his nerves rattled. "Kings and demons? What? How are they the
Spike stopped directly behind his boy. He placed both clawed hands on Xander's shoulders
and slowly raked them down cutting and tearing into the boy's thin, cotton shirt leaving
it hanging in shreds. Spike then pressed his thumbs into the small of the boy's back
before clutching the firm, full globes of Xander's ass. Leaning forward, Spike's mouth
ghosted over Xander's ear. "We are both possessive. Once we see what we want, we
lay claim to it. We take. We own and no man dare challenge us."
Spike's hands slid between the strips of the tattered shirt Xander wore and the demon's spurs
ran upwards, this time with enough pressure to leave eight red, raised lines on Xander's
flawless skin. In response, Xander instinctively arched at the pain of the welts while it shot
a crossbow of heated pleasure straight to his groin. It was amazingly erotic and it left
him wanting more. Much more.. "You.. You want....?"
In a flash, Spike looped his arms under Xander's and he pressed his palms to Xander's
chest jerking the boy backwards and holding their bodies flush against each other. "You,
Xander. I am laying claim to you."
Before Xander could respond or even process the statement, Spike grabbed a fistful of the
boy's hair, yanked his head back and he lunged, pressing the tips of his razor-sharp fangs
against the side of Xander's throat. That, combined with the presence of the long,
rock-hard erection that was nestled in the crack of Xander's ass left no doubt that whether
he believed the story that Spike had told or not, the part about being claimed and owned
And Xander could find no objection to that claim.
His head lolled back onto Spike's shoulder and he sighed. "Oh." His arms hung limply at
his sides and the slight burn of the welts on his back had settled into a warm tingle. His
own cock had jumped and fully filled in record time as he waited to see if the fangs scraping
at his neck would actually bite. With all of the blood drained from his brain, Xander
struggled to think why it would be a bad thing to have this strange man nibble on his throat.
Spike buried his face in the crook of Xander's neck and he snuffled at the warm flushed skin
and the blood that thumped rhythmically in the bulging vein. What had started out as a
silly threat, was now a solid-stone truth that settled in Spike's gut. No matter what happened
or how this situation ended, Spike owned this human lad. It was an odd feeling. An
obsessive urging like he had never known before and yet, it felt absolute. It felt right.
"You are a virgin. Untouched by another. Yes?"
Xander nodded vigorously. "Yes. Untouched. Except by you. Just when you and me did
that... thing. The touching. With the hands and the squirting and the spilling. Only you.
Well, and maybe me a time or two. You know, when I was in the forest alone. Okay
maybe more than twice. Sometimes twice a day but that was only on slow days. But other
than that, yeah, just you."
Xander was well aware that he was babbling like a village idiot but he found it impossible
to stop. Luckily, Spike didn't seem put off by the moronic gabbing. He gripped the boy
by the shoulders, spun him around and planted their lips together in a harsh, pressing kiss
that left Xander reeling.
He swayed and staggered backwards. He had never been kissed before. Other than a peck
on the cheek by his mother. But not like this. Never like this. It was so unexpected.
So powerful. So wonderful. So... over.
Spike stepped away and grinned as he watched his boy swing his arms wildly in the darkness
in search of his companion. That had certainly shut the lad up.
Ducking and dodging, Spike laughed. "Well now, that is better. Your words certainly flow
like the shite from a goose, young Xander. Hasn't anyone ever told you that silence is gold...."
Before Spike had finished his admonition, Xander was on him. Using the man's scolding
words as an indicator of his location, Xander threw his arms around the strange demon-man
and tackled him to the floor.
Landing on his back with the hearty boy on top, Spike grunted out an 'Oomph!' but when
he opened his mouth to object, Spike found himself with the full weight of the boy holding
him down and a hot wet tongue stuffed in his mouth.
Apparently claims and ownership were a two-way street.