*****

Xander leaned back against the damp cinderblock wall of his solitary confinement cell and sighed. As much as he appreciated the calm and the quiet and the chance to let his guard down, he missed Devon. He missed the lanky man's smooth skin and long soft hair. He missed Dev's sad eyes and sarcastic smirk. Mostly, he missed the intimacy of someone who actually *cared* about him and his personal happiness. He missed his friend. His *only* friend here inside Brighten Maximum Security Penitentiary.

"Five minutes until lights out boys. Pleasant dreams."

Xander glanced up at the ceiling and the imbedded speaker that all communication with the inmates here in solitary came from. The staticy and disembodied voice that periodically helped to mark time was his only companion. He wasn't allowed to leave this small five by eight cell. It held a cot, a sink and a toilet. His meals were slid in on the floor through a sliding grate along the bottom of the solid metal door that led back out into the hallway. He felt his loneliness descend upon him once more.

With a sigh, Xander heaved himself up from his narrow cot and quickly relieved his bladder while he could still see. Then, he grabbed up the small piece of sharp edged stone that had been hiding behind the sink when he was first brought in. Taking it over to the far wall, he carefully used it to scratch out another short line in the thickly layered paint until bare cinderblock stone shone through. Then he counted them. Nine lines. Nine days spent in solitary. Eleven more to go...

With another sigh, Xander hoped that Devon was okay and healing. He prayed that when he got out of solitary that Devon would be out of the prison's clinic. He longed to feel his lover's hands holding tightly to him once again, his sweet voice whispering in his ear in the dark of night...

A loud echoing *clank* sounded down the hallway and one by one the solitary confinement cells went dark as pitch as the lights went out. Quietly, Xander turned around and fell onto his narrow cot and squirmed until he was under the scratchy and thin blanket. Laying his head on the flat foam pillow, he slid into sleep.

And dreamed of his arrival at Brighten three months earlier...

~~~

After the guard had left, Devon had literally dragged Xander into the inmate cell they were to share and shut the metal door behind them, effectively shutting out the other prisoners. Xander looked around his new home, slowly letting his senses gather and catalog these first impressions.

The cell was roughly six feet by ten feet. The cinderblock walls were painted a dull and dirty gray-blue. On the right wall was a metal bunkbed. The bottom bunk already had the thin cot mattress laid out with dingy off-white sheets and a drab brown wool blanket. The top bunk had it's mattress sitting on the chain-link style "springs" in a tight roll and the sheets and blanket were folded up in a pile on top of a thin and scraggly looking pillow.

On the left wall there stood two narrow cabinets that reminded Xander of the tall lockers the students of Sunnydale High had each been assigned. They were painted a pale gray that was chipped and scratched in places. Next to the clothes locker was a gray painted wooden desk that was bolted down to the floor. There was also a blue plastic and metal chair for the desk.

There was also a poster hung on the wall with tape. Xander recognized the band. Korn.

Looking around at the room he was destined to spend the next twenty years in, Parole Boards not withstanding, and felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.

"Well... it's not the Hellmouth, but I call it home."

Xander turned and looked at Devon. The tall thin man was casually leaning up against the closed door with a sardonic smirk on his handsome face. He somehow managed to look sexy in faded prison denim jeans and the blue denim button-down shirts that they were all wearing. Xander returned his smirk even as he studied the man he had once known fairly well and cringed on the inside.

Devon had spent *years* working to make himself seem sexy, irresistible and desirable. As the front man and lead singer of a rock band, that was a necessary trait. As a prisoner in maximum security lockup, it was a curse. The singer had consciously practiced the most appealing and sexy ways to walk, stand and sit that until it was now unconscious and automatic. He was physically beautiful and his entire aura just *screamed* debauched sensuality.

Xander felt pity for the man he had once called friend. No wonder the guard had labeled Dev a slut. Not that he wasn't. Xander knew for a fact that Devon *was* a slut... but in here, he wouldn't have a *choice* about saying "no" if the other guy was stronger and decided to just "take" what Devon couldn't help but offer.

Suddenly, Xander *needed* to know just what he had been dragged in to.

"So... what's the drill around this place? What do I need to know to... ah, keep from getting killed?"

Devon's smirk grew cold and the easy cheerfulness in his eyes hardened into a haunting mix of sadness and anger. Pushing himself away from the door, Dev sauntered over to the bunkbeds and gracefully folded himself until he could slide under the top bunk's metal railing. Then, he was lounged across his blanket in a relaxed sprawl looking as if he were waiting on his lover.

Xander forcibly ignored his body's reaction to the singer, just as he had always done, and pulled out the plastic chair and sat down across from him.

"Well?"

"I'm sure you got the big speech that they give all the new guys here. The rules and the regs. Get up in the morning when you're told. Go to your assigned work area after breakfast. Then lunch, then classes and after that, dinner and then whatever recreation the system has chosen for us that day."

Xander nodded his head. He had gotten that speech, only the Warden gave it in more detail and peppered it with rules and threats and detailed explanations of the various punishments available for those who don't behave. His latest job with the construction company had inspired the Warden to assign Xander to the woodshop, so he already had his morning work assignment.

"Well, what the suits and the screws *don't* tell you is that there is a definite pecking order of the inmates here in Brighten. We're in the worse lot of them all, with the exception of Cell Block E. That's ironic too, Cell Block E is the prisoners who are waiting for execution. We're in the block right bellow them... we missed out on the execution sentence... some of us by a narrower margin then others."

Devon's meaningful glance at Xander reminded him how many of the people at his trial had been calling for the Death Sentence for him, but he didn't like to think about *that*, so he changed the subject, or rather, brought it back on track.

"So... that means what exactly. I mean, for us personally. Here, in Cell Block D."

Devon offered up a slight shrug as if he wasn't concerned about it at all, but Xander could see the haunted shadows in his eyes.

"Well, there are different types of prisoners in here. The gangs of violent ones tend to run things. Then there are those who sort of follow and support the gangs... whether they want to or not. Sometimes you're just *claimed* by a gang member. Then there are the loners. No one really messes with a loner for a variety of reasons. Even the gangs stay in their good graces as much as possible."

Xander sat and tried to absorb all of that, but then Devon's expression changed to one of thoughtful contemplation.

"You know, I didn't really know it was going to be you who was my new cellmate. I just knew it was the Sunnydale Slasher. A big serial killer from back home. I honestly thought you would turn out to be some demon or something like that. As much as I'm glad you're *not* a demon, you *do* have a reputation here. Guys will probably try to avoid you or get you to join a gang."

Xander nodded his head sadly. He had figured as much. He had never been a social icon, but even in prison he was considered a freak. It was depressing. Just before he could slip down into a bout of self-pity, another thought entered his head. Or rather, poked him from the back-burner of his mind. Xander looked up and gazed at Devon searchingly.

"And you Dev? Where do you fit into the... hierarchy of things?"

The haunted look in Devon's eyes magnified a hundred fold and he alternately turned chalk white and bright red.

"My last cellmate sort of took care of me... for favors. Now that Turk's gone? Well, let's just say it's been open season on Devon. Okay?"

Xander nodded again. He had expected as much. It still hurt to hear it and he didn't need any more details to imagine what horrors Devon had faced. He could still hear Spike's little chat in the back of his mind complete with snarky British accent in place and he knew all he needed to. His own expression hardening, Xander looked up and caught Dev's gaze with his own dark eyes.

"And that's going to stop right now. You say that I'm walking in here with some fucked up reputation from my trial, then fine... I'm going to use it. Anyone comes up to you, you tell them no, that you're *mine* and let them come to *me* about it. We'll see if this rep thing holds any water..."

~~~

The first week inside the prison was one of vast adjustments for Xander. He went in the morning to the wood shop and began to learn how to make furniture. The prison didn't *buy* the stuff the inmates used if they could find a way to have the prisoners *make* it. So, Xander learned how to make desks and chairs.

Then there was the whole cafeteria thing. The food was about on the same level as school food, but it was hot and filling and he could go for seconds if he wanted. He was just glad that he wasn't on KP duty. The work was hot and the prisoners in line were rude and unappreciative.

The classes in the afternoon were to help those who would be paroled lead a more normal life. English class and math class were mandatory, no matter what level of education you had, but he was allowed to pick two other classes. He choose Spanish 1 and basic science. The Spanish was because so many of the prisoners spoke it and he didn't want to be talked about in front of his face. The science was because it was a prerequisite to many other classes and Xander knew he'd be in here for *years*. Might as well get it out of the way sooner than later.

Afternoon recreation consisted of one of three things. The outside exercise yard which held a short jogging track, several weight benches and a small basketball court. There was also the Video Room where movies were shown to the prisoners and the inside exercise room which held more weight benches and several jump ropes and things. Xander decided right away that he would begin serious weight training combined with running. Some of the other prisoners were huge and he wanted to be able to hold his own in a fight. Construction work had begun to build his muscles up some, but it was up to him to refine and perfect that start.

And the evenings were spent locked in his cell with Devon. At first it had been a bit awkward. One of them would flirt and the other would blush and a little bit later it would happen again, but in reverse. Xander knew why... for both of them. For himself, it was a combination of horniness brought on by a distinct lack of opportunity combined with his longtime desire for the singer. For Devon, it was almost habit to put out to the guy who had publicly claimed him as property combined with a libido that was used to constant use.

It took them three full days to get over the memories of being non-intimate friends in the past to being lovers in the present. It was Devon who finally crossed the line and permanently altered their relationship. Exasperated and horny, he had blurted out "Oh, fuck it!" under his breath and literally pushed Xander onto the hard plastic chair by their desk and dropped down to his knees between Xander's thighs. A few deft moves had his jeans unzipped and his half-hard cock in between Devon's soft wet lips. After that, they shared a cot in the bunkbed every night.

But it wasn't the bizarre new schedule or even the sudden boyfriend he'd gained that sent Xander's head to spinning. It was what Devon had first warned him about. His reputation and status among the other prisoners was *way* beyond what Xander had expected.

Most of the prisoners in Cell Block D were in for murder or rape or armed robbery and a few, like Devon, for drug busts that had gone bad. But *he* was different. He didn't have one murder or two or even three (which was the next highest count next to him), but instead held the record at 12 counts of murder in the first degree and 4 in the second which was a total of 16 murders he'd been found guilty of. That didn't even include his charges for blowing up the school.

He wasn't a murderer or a rapist. He was a serial killer. A psycho. Someone who would slit your throat as soon as smile at you. Someone who could blow up buildings with explosives or stab you with a knife through the chest. And as such, he was feared by the other inmates. Even worshiped from afar.

Once word spread that he had claimed Devon all tormenting of the thin man had stopped completely. If he sat down at a table in the lunch room, only Devon would come sit down with him and the other's shifted away. No one messed with him in the showers, even though he had been witness to a rape, he personally had been avoided like the plague.

The gang that ran Cell Block D made overtures for him to join. Xander grinned at them and politely refused, but he didn't do anything to challenge them and he didn't antagonize them and they stopped offering. However, they didn't make any moves against him. He was categorized as a "loner" just as Devon had suggested he would be and left to his own amusements.

It was hard going from being the Zeppo Doughnut Boy to being feared by a bunch of men that would have normally made him want to pee his pants. And it was lonely. Only Devon would talk to him openly and freely without fear. Only Devon would join him at meals to eat, or in the exercise yard as a spotter or in the library to study for classes. And only Devon was witness to his silent tears as he cried in the dark of the night when everyone else was asleep.

~~~

A month after he'd arrived, Xander was looking through the "care package" that had arrived for him and Devon from Sunnydale. The Scoobies had been shocked and horrified to find out that the singer they had all enjoyed listening to during their highschool days was in prison, but they were glad that fate had assigned them to the same cell. Only Giles knew of their true relationship, but then again, the girls didn't *need* that information.

They each got a letter from Willow. Xander's was ten pages long and Devon's was two pages of apologies and forgive-me's. Tara sent them both coloring books and a box of crayons. Buffy sent them a packet of socks, boxer-briefs and t-shirts with a note explaining that she "didn't trust the State of California to provide them with new ones and *eww* there are some things a man shouldn't share" while Anya sent them both Soap-on-a-rope and a cartoon of cigarettes because she had "seen prison movies" and admonished them to both be careful of big mean guys. She had also sent an envelope of pictures of her naked so Xander "wouldn't forget her" during his stay and she promised that she was looking into arranging conjugal visits. Giles sent them each a book to read with a note stating that more reading material would be on the way. He had also sent them a large tube of sexual lubricant and a box of condoms.

Devon spread out the pictures of Anya so that each one could be seen and began to strip off his clothes. Throwing the lube and a condom to Xander he suggested that they use their new gifts right away. Xander then spent a lovely half hour with pictures of his naked girlfriend dancing before his eyes while his naked boyfriend writhed and moaned under his body.

Afterwards, they took their new Soap-on-a-rope to the communal showers and cleaned up. Then they changed into their new underwear and t-shirts. Back in their room, they then cuddled up together on the bottom bunk and read through their letters three times in a row.

~~~

The second month brought another care package from Sunnydale. This one was bigger, although like the first one, it had already been looked through by the prison guards.

Because Xander had confessed that they had to *pay* for paper, envelopes and stamps from their meager 15 cents an hour pay wages, the gang had chipped in to buy them both stationary. They now had a ream of lined white paper, a box of blue ball point pens, a roll of stamps and a box of envelopes.

They also got more Soap-on-a-rope, toothbrushes and toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner and two more cartons of cigarettes. Xander didn't tell them that *he* didn't need them to trade with. Instead, he had started smoking. Two cartons lasted him a little over one month, so it worked out fine.

Giles, as promised, sent them both a book to read along with encouraging letters. Giles asked Xander to see if he was allowed to have a radio. If so, he'd send them a tape player for music and these Spanish Language tapes he'd found. He encouraged Xander to continue taking as many classes as he could. Xander didn't tell him he had no choice in the matter.

Buffy sent them each a highly edited, yet totally hilarious accounting of her various slaying exploits and a summary of Spike's many attempts at "hitting on her for a date". She also sent them a poster of a mostly naked supermodel for "daydreams and private moments of contemplation". Devon appreciated the jerk-off material even though it shocked Xander to his core that *Buffy* would send it.

Anya's letter told about her new girlfriend even as she assured Xander that she had thoroughly enjoyed her two conjugal visits and was planning to continue them.

Willow's letter was once again ten pages long and she tried to be upbeat and cheerful, but Xander knew better. She was feeling bad about Xander being in jail for crimes he didn't commit. She also sent lots of pictures (clothed) of the gang for Xander and Devon to hang up on their cell walls. Tara sent two more coloring books and a new box of crayons.

There was also a new tube of sexual lubricant and a box of condoms.

However, it was Gile's mention of a tape player for music that made Xander realize something. He had been in lockup and sharing a cell and a bed with Devon for about two months now and he had *yet* to hear him sing. Not *once* did the lanky young man sing or even hum a tune. As a former lead singer of a rock band, that should have been something that was beginning to get on Xander's nerves, and yet, Devon *never* sang. Xander wondered why...

"Dev?"

"Yeah man?"

"You never sing."

The relaxed ease of Devon's sprawl evaporated as his muscles all stiffened up and Xander *knew* that there was a reason for it. So... he pressed.

"Why?"

Devon looked at him with sad and haunted eyes that nearly broke Xander's heart.

"Turk *hated* it when I sang. Told me it made me look like a girl. Beat the shit out of me a few times when I forgot. So... I just... stopped."

Xander felt his anger rise once more. Half the time he didn't know whether to hate this mysterious Turk or thank him. He'd kept Dev alive in here, but he also abused his friend and lover in some of the most horrific ways possible. And to deny a singer from singing was one of the worst.

Pushing aside their new goodies, Xander stretched out beside Devon on the cramped cot and pulled the slighter man close. He wrapped his arms around the too thin chest and tucked the long haired head under his chin.

"Sing for me... Please?"

Xander felt as well as heard when Devon's breath hitched in his chest. Then, warbly with repressed emotion and whispered very softly, Devon began to sing...

~~~

Two weeks later, Drake came to Cell Block D. He was big. He was mean. He was rude and obnoxious. He was also a Blaycore Demon. Blaycore demon's *looked* human, but they were more like elementals. Fire elementals. Drake was in on arson charges and a murder rap for the two people who had died in the last fire he started.

Xander recognized him for what he was after their first meeting. He also let Drake *know* that he knew by speaking to him in his own language, of which Xander knew precisely three phrases. All of which he had learned from Spike.

"Bra'ch ler chol nernin ka." [Piss on your fire, bitch.]

That was a deadly insult to a Blaycore, but Drake had been too stunned that a human could speak his native tongue to do anything about it and Xander had walked off to his work assignment.

Within two days, everyone in Cell Block D was aware that the Sunnydale Slasher had a grievance with "the new guy" without knowing why, and Drake knew that Xander had a bad-ass reputation. However, Drake didn't *care* about Xander's reputation. So... he fucked with Devon to piss off Xander. It worked.

When he heard about Devon's accident, he got leave from the guards to go visit him in the clinic. He only had to see the raw burns to *know* who, or rather *what*, had attacked his lover. Once he made sure that Devon was as comfortable as he could be and that he would recover with time, Xander kissed him gently on the forehead and promised him that it would never happen again. Then he went back to work and began making plans in his head.

Two days later, Xander was found; singed and bloody, standing over the corpse of one Blaycore Demon named Drake. After one last viscous kick to the cooling body, Xander went calmly and placidly with the guards to solitary confinement for a twenty day punishment for murdering a fellow prisoner.

When asked why he did it, his answer was simple.

"Drake hurt Devon. *No one* hurts Devon."

Somehow, Xander got the feeling that, despite the fact that he'd killed a guy (only Devon and Xander had been aware of Drake's demon status) that the guards understood. Then again, Devon had been hurt badly. His entire right side was covered in first and even a few second degree burns. He would be permanently scarred on his arm and ribcage. What's more, Xander felt it was worth the solitary confinement.

Plus, it only added to his dangerous reputation. Before, the prisoners only had his arrest record to base it on. Now they had proof. A corpse in the clinic and a bloody and victorious Xander to go with it.

Xander's reputation as Cell Block D's bad boy was secure.

~~~

A loud echoing *clang* jarred Xander from his sleep and his eyes batted against the last clinging wisps of his dreams. Then, with a brief flicker, the caged lightbulb in the ceiling of his solitary cell went on. It was morning once again.

With a sigh, Xander pushed himself up off of the cot and went to the toilet to empty his bladder. With a glance at the scratched markings on the wall, he noted that it was now officially day ten of his stay in this cramped cell.

Then, as was his habit, Xander crouched down to the floor and laid back to begin his sit-ups. It helped pass the time and kept him in shape. He could now do two hundred in a row without stopping. Then, he'd move on to his push-ups. By then, it'd be time for breakfast...

END