For William ‘Spike’ Atherton every day was a struggle. And he was not one to walk away from a fight. He’d grown up protecting himself and others with his fists and his wits. He bore the scars of his father’s cruelty and deeper scars of his heart’s mistakes. He was 5’10’’ with curly hair. Hated looking at himself in the mirror in the morning when his curls were a riot, had few friends, and tried to make a living as an actor. He loved the stage: it was the only place he felt free, it had been his refuge since third grade. The rest of his life was the illusion; on stage it was real, the other actors or musicians all working together towards a common goal. No egos on stage: they only appeared off it. When the bitching and the fights started.
His latest acting group were doing OK, but money was never easy to come by. His music was liked by some, but the big time seemed so far away, no lucky breaks for him. He looked at the bottle in his hand again. At least Jack was his friend. He liked Jack, Jack never let him down. Jack always stayed true.
Nothing in his personal life was as it should be: it was a total mess. His latest girlfriend had walked out on him after a week of late night rehearsals and early morning calls. Help if he could remember her name. Yep, that would be a help: Cecily, no that was the bitch before, on second thoughts Cecily, that was her name. Never mind everything else, yep at least Jack was still his friend, he thought as he drunkenly reached for the bottle again. His hands shaking as he drained the last of it and flopped back onto the worn out old sofa that dominated the dingy apartment he lived in. Sleep only came easily when he was drunk, or stoned. She had told William that he was ‘beneath her’ and left him in the gutter, literally. He thought back to the night when he’d taken her to dinner. It was the best restaurant he could afford and he had dressed to kill.
She had looked wonderful of course, but from the start nothing had been good enough for her, bitch. She wanted Michelin star, he could afford the local Italian; his job wasn’t good enough and he should give up his silliness in wanting to be an actor and get a real job. Daddy had a space at his office… It had taken him weeks, months to get over her, if he ever had.
He remembered her getting into the taxi and leaving him standing there, in the gutter, tears rolling down his face, unashamed of who saw him. Xander had picked up the pieces that time as well. He had made sure William ate, held him while he cried, taken him to the gym to work out his aggression, taken the booze and hidden it, every thing he could do Xander had done.
But it hadn’t been enough. William had fallen deeper and deeper into some really weird company. Then he’d met Dru and William had died and Spike had been born. Hard, tough with a nasty edge, bleached blond hair and black clothes.
She’d introduced Spike to her ‘family’: Darla and Angel, and to her world. Dark smoky night-clubs, blood play, S&M. They were perverted, they really enjoyed hurting others and Spike took all they could give. It was like he no longer valued himself, he wanted to be punished. They’d introduced him to drugs to dull the pain. Which he’d used occasionally; alcohol had dulled the pain regularly.
Xander grew more and more worried for his friend. Spike meant the world to the man, had since they were in school together. Xander hated seeing William like this, so totally dependant on someone else.
Spike’s sexual appetite had grown more and more extreme in their company, until he was on the verge of spiralling totally out of control. Angel and Dru talked about ‘doing it’ to someone outside their circle. Of finding a victim and ‘enjoying’ his or her company, tying her up and forcing whoever to do whatever they wanted, and they wanted Spike to join in. It would be fun, they said. It would be different. It would be a rush. Spike’s foot was on the slope and it was a long way down.
Then they stopped calling. Spike wouldn’t play so they left him, in the gutter again, with nothing, they just drove away. They had spiked his drink as a fare you well. That was where he was found. In the gutter, throwing up. Someone had called the cops, who had taken the barely conscious man to hospital, then brought him home to Xander. Good old Xander who had helped him into the shower, cleaned him up, and put him to bed. Then checked on the drunk during the night to make sure he was still breathing. William remembered that much, remembered Xander holding the bowl so he could be sick, remembered him trying to wash his face for him, remembered everything, he hoped. He loved Xander, Xander was his friend.
‘Oh God, I really am a mess, I could do with some help,’ he prayed as he fell asleep. He really meant it. Spike could see no way out of the pit of hell he was in.
Dreams were not something that Spike usually remembered but he remembered the man, English it seemed, asking him if he really wanted help or was he just talking for the sake of it.
‘I really need help.’
‘Yes you do, but I warn you it will be hard work; are you willing to work hard, Mr Rayne?’
‘It’s Atherton, I gave up the other name when I left home.’
‘My apologies, Mr Atherton, I will not make the same mistake again, however the question still stands. What are you willing to do to get better?’
‘Anything, I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.’
Maybe we can help. If you’re willing to pay the price. It could be worth it you know, you wouldn’t feel like this any more.’
The voice seemed to be fading, as the sunlight brightened.
Spike woke up with the mother of all hangovers. His head felt as though a jackhammer was being used on his brain, his mouth as though a dozen bears had pissed in it. The sun burnt his eyes and his stomach still wanted to empty itself all over his shoes. He could smell food; that was the last thing he needed, and using what little energy he had, he made it to the bathroom to throw up what was left in his stomach.
squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!