Hiding in Plain Sight
Act One: Prologue (Part 0/6)

Summary: In preparation for Halloween, Willow puts a spell on the Scoobies that has some adverse effects. When the holiday passes without incident, Xander and Spike wake up as each other! Things get a little more complicated with Xander's Family, the LA Gang and Initiative become involved... (Buffy mid S5 , Angel S2 no direct timeline)

Genre List: Initiative, Hurt/Comfort, Body Swapping, Under a Spell, Halloween

Rating/Warnings: T+ to M for Slash, Bloodplay, Torture!Xander, Adult Themes, Language, Angst

Pairing: Unless you've been living under a rock, you should know it's Spander, plus some surprising Spike & Angel friendship

DISCLAIMER: No one owns anything. The government just wants them to think that they do...In any regard, I don't own and am making no profit off of this fanfiction, the character, plot or setting that this story is centred around.

Distribution: Feel Free to share or archive anywhere. Remember to give credit where credit is deserved.

Prologue

August 8th, 2000

Spike Hated Xander. He hated that the slayers little pet cowered at every little bump in the night, he hated how much the boy pined over Buffy and that no matter how much the girl ignored him, brushing him off as just another one of the gang, Xander kept begging at her heels. He hated the endless line of jobs that the boy could never seem to keep, the fact that even though Xander had grades higher than the slayer, he was working for minimal wage while Buffy went to college -- all because her Mother had taken up the tab. Spike hated the boys fashion sense: shirts so close to florescent he wondered if Xander were in fact completely color blind. And yet, tied to that damn chair in the boys parents basement, Spike couldn't seem to leave Xander alone.

The binds holding him to the thread bound chair were weak at best. He might not have been able to snap them in earlier days, still half-starved from his time at the Initiative, but demons blood was nearly as good as mortals, and since he had found out the chip in his brain had no aversion to punching the face in of anyone of the less than human variety, Spike was well fed. Yet, he stayed in this hovel still, letting the boy tie him down every night, letting the insults flow freely between the two.

Truth be told, that might be why he stayed so long. Xander might not be a lot of things, but he was one for good banter. He and Spike would spend hours just throwing the insults back and forth as if a game. Both had a lot of pent up ammo, and the little display was good release. Gods knew Xander would never show how unhappy he was to any of his precious Scoobies. He didn't want the group to know that he just might be dealing with some heavier shit than any of them.

Huffing, Spike thought of the pair upstairs that fell under the false pretense of parents. It had been over one-hundred years, but even he remembered his Mother, and that sorry set didn't come close to how family was supposed to treat another. A loud crash alerted him to the fact that Xanders father had returned from work in a post drunken-stupor. A woman screamed, her own voice slurred heavily, but still piercing in intensity. They bickered a while -- not at all like the sport he and Xander played with another, but harsh yelling, laced with rage and self-loathing. Their repore lasted a good half-hour before the two either got bored of one another or realized they had forgotten a valued member of the Harris Clan. Someone pounded heavily on the basement door, and from the way sound reverberated like off-beat percussion, Spike could only assume it was the boys father.

"Shit," he mouthed, and searched the cramped quarters for Xander. Upon returning very late from his job at Meat Palace, the boy had walked straight from the door to the bathroom, turning on the shower and standing beneath the spray for nearly forty minutes (not that it was going to get rid of the stench of grease), long after the water had run cold.

Spikes eyes searched frantically for Xander, focusing on the bathroom door as though staring long enough would force it open. Nothing happened, and Mr. Harris only pounded harder, now accompanying the beat with his own alcohol-laced baritone. A woman shrieking in the background made for a nice little ditty.

Snapping his binds quickly, Spike went straight to the bathroom and didn't bother knocking. He pushed in the door, giving just enough pressure to break the lock but still keep the door itself hinged. Hot steam assaulted his entrance, and Spike wondered whether Xander even knew his parents had been fighting so loudly upstairs. When Spike drew back the shower curtain, there was no doubt the boy had.

Knees drawn up to his chest, Xander sat with his head cradled in hands on the bottom of the tub. Lank locks hung heavily over the boys face, but even Spike could see the dark bruises beginning to show. Xanders face was patchy with black and blue, his lip split and a particularly vicious bruise over his left eye. The lid was nearly swollen shut, but Spike could still see how red (they) were from crying. Xander tried to turn and cough discreetly, but something gave at that movement and he was immediately upon the tubs bottom, coughing so hard Spike could smell the blood. It was then he noticed the marks on Xanders back. Vivid scratched marred his shoulders and arms. Eyes trailing further, Spike caught glimpses of even darker wounds upon the boys thighs. Those bruises were the largest and darkest and the size of someone's hands.

Shuttering, Xander tried to pull himself up, but his hand slipped on the wetness and he tumbled back into a heap on the floor. A heavy breath was draw at that, and somehow the floodgates broke open. Xander didn't seem to care who was watching anymore, and lay sobbing openly.

Just about to make a move, Spike heard a loud bellow from above and remembered the drunken father. The man hadn't given up yet, but it sounded like the intensity of his pounding was lessening. After living with the Scoobie for nearly two months, Spike could tell the beer-insuced coma was coming on fast. When the mans persistence finally tapered down, Spike found himself the loudest sound in the basement -- eyes golden with rage, a growl emitted from deep in his throat. Xander's father reminded him too much of Angelus in the early days of his turning.

Quieting himself, he could hear something else. Xander sobbed still, curled into a fetal position on the tubs floor, arms drawn so tightly around his knees Spike swore he could see the white of bone up to the boys shoulders. He must have realized that the vampire was watching him, but still cried naked in the shower. This was really too much like Williams experience with Angelus...and Spike nearly felt his own tears well up and threaten to spill. Sire had beaten him into submission, and then beaten the bloodlust into him as well. The bruising on Xanders thighs hinted at something else the two of them shared

Spike turned off the water off. Laying on the floor, Xander began to immediately shiver as though a blanket had been torn off his form. An unsteady breath slipped free, but Xander tried to catch it and draw further into himself. He curled up, trying to look as small as possible.

"You're find now; noone's going to hurt you," Spike cooed, as he would when Drucilla had driven herself into a state.

Shrugging off his duster, Spike reached down for the boy and placed his hand gingerly on Xanders shoulder. The boy shivered more wildly, and a stilted breath came out shivering with it. "You're alright now, but we need to get you patched up right quick," He tried, tracing his hand slowly across the boys shoulder, putting more pressure in his touch but careful still of the wounds. He needed Xander to let him help, and didn't want the boy to get himself completely riled when picked up from the tub. "Let's get you out of the bathroom and warmed on up,"

While Xander didn't lessen his tears, he let Spike lift him from the tub and carry him back to the bed. Spike dried him off, cleaned his wounds and covered him with the worn comforter he had used since age ten. Even after he was warm and the pain had begun to subside a bit, Xander couldn't keep the tears from falling. He cried into his pillow and -- as the vampire sat rubbing small circled about the small of his back -- into Spikes leg as well. The vampire seemed to understand, though he didn't say a word.

When Xander woke in the morning, Spike was still there, holding his hand and absently running his fingers through dark locks. Noticing Xander was awake, Spike stood and silently made his way back over to the orange armchair. Plopping down, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.