Journey of the White Cave Clan
TITLE: Journey of the White Cave Clan
5/28
AUTHOR: Bmblbee
Buffy Fandom by use of the characters only
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Adult content. Some M/M sexual content. Minor mentions of Het.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns nothing including these characters.
Summary: HAU. Set in the year 5000BC Spike's clan is dying in the grip
of the last mini-ice age. While they are reluctant to leave the cave of their
ancestors, they know that they will freeze and starve if they stay. Suddenly,
they find a stranger in their midst. A member of a nomadic clan that can
show them the way to salvation.
Warnings: Not a lot of sex but what there is, is graphic.
Thanks to Naughty_Fae for the pre-read. All errors are by choice of the Bee.
Archived at: http://www.captainperoxideandthewhelp.com/
Anyone else wishing to take it should ask first please.
Link to previous chapters HERE
Special thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banner
Quickly and cautiously, Spike and Penn hurried over to where the stranger lay in a
crumpled heap of arms and legs and furs. His face was slack, his eyes were closed and
his head was cocked at an odd angle, which indicated to Spike that the man was probably
dead and no threat. Still, just to be certain, Spike took the blunt end of his spear and he
poked at the belly of the beast.
When the stranger moaned and twitched, both Spike and Penn leapt back, crouched into an
attack stance and raised their spears with the expectation that the man would jump up and
lunge at them. When he didn't, the two men of the White Cave Clan eased forward again.
"Who is he, Spike? Why is he here in our land?"
Spike gripped his spear close to his body as he turned in a full circle and visually searched
the surrounding area for any movement or danger. A man without a clan did not make sense.
If this was a trap, then more men could be hiding in the forest and waiting to launch an
assault against the White Clan.
"I don't know who he is, but a man like this does not travel without a clan. We will leave
him. His own people will come for him. It is not our problem. Go fill the water pouches
and we should get back."
Penn was not so sure that that was the right thing to do. He looked up and could see the
faint traces of blood on the cliffside where the man had struck as he tumbled down.
"He is still alive, Spike. If we leave him here, he will either freeze or the wolves will eat at
his still-breathing body. Willow would kick both our asses if she found out. He must have
fallen from up there. If his clan was going to come for him, they would have. They have left
him to die, Spike. We are a better people than that."
Spike squatted down and dipped his gut skins into the flowing stream to quickly fill them up.
As he did, he kept his eyes trained on the fallen stranger and his ears piqued for any
foreign sounds from the meadow or forest behind him. He also gave consideration to
Penn's words. As much as he hated to concede, it was all true. Especially the part where
Willow would shove a furry boot up their butt for their refusal to help this man.
With a shake of his head and a huff of defeat, Spike finished his task and he tucked his wet
hands under his armpits to warm them. As he stood and glared at the handsome stranger
his mind was already on the how-to of hauling the big man back to their cave. At first,
he considered building a fire and warming the man here, but the lingering fear of discovery
by a clan of stronger numbers urged him to take the injured man and vacate the area as
quickly as possible.
"Fine. I still think we should leave him but if we are taking him back, we need to do it
quickly. You hurry to the forest line and bring strong branches and vine to make a drag.
I will check him to see how badly he is broken and wrap his furs tightly around him.
Penn nodded and hurried to comply.
Reaching into his belt pouch, Spike extracted his flake stone. It had been honed to an
impressive razor-sharp edge and was still coated with the fresh blood of the deer he was
cutting last night. Spike had no qualms about adding the blood of this stranger to it. If this
was a trick or the stranger made any show of aggression, the flake stone would cleanly slice
the man's throat in the blink of an eye.
Spike circled the limp body. Each time he would nudge it with his foot, the man would
moan, although he never opened his eyes. When it appeared that there would be no attack,
Spike marginally relaxed. He crouched down at the side of the man and he reached out to
touch him.
The stranger was cold, indicating he had been lying there for at least one notch of the
sun. The bruising on the area of his exposed midsection told Spike that he was probably
broken inside. That was not good. A man usually died if something inside him was
damaged. When Spike rolled the man over on his side in order to tuck his furs as close
to his body as possible, he located the worst of the damage.
There was a bloody wound on the back of the man's head. It was deep and Spike could
see through to the white bone inside, but the good news was that the bone was not cracked
open and the grey stuff inside was not oozing out. Spike had seen that happen more than
once and he knew that if the head injury was too harsh, the man could not live.
The blood that coated Spike's hands was cold and thick and stuck to the man's long, thick
dark hair. It was strange. All the men of the White Clan had light hair. On all parts of
their body. Suddenly, Spike's mind was obsessed with the question of whether the hair on
this man's hidden area was as dark as on his head. He couldn't imagine why it was so
important to him but it was. He had to know. He had to look.
Spike's head snapped up to assure himself that Penn was still on his errand of retrieval.
Although he was still out of sight, Spike knew that time was of the essence. Penn understood
the urgency of getting this man and leaving the area, and he would be back soon.
Spike again poked the man but the stranger's eyes still remained closed. Spike then shouted
into his ear.
"Hey! Hey! Wake up!"
When there was no response, Spike cautiously reached over and he lifted up the man's
heavy furs. His legs were cut and bruised. They were also covered in the same dark hair
and they were thick and strong. This man was from a well-fed clan. Spike wondered how
that could be in such harsh conditions. If the White Clan was suffering, how could this clan
be doing so well?
But that wasn't the question of the moment.
Spike checked one more time, and off in the distance he could see the odd, lumbering
movement that he recognized as Penn's gait. He gave one more fast jerk of the furs and
exposed the unconscious stranger's manhood to the cold morning air.
In answer to his puzzle, yes, the hidden hair was dark, almost black as it formed a wild,
curly nest. But as facinated as he was, the hair no longer held his interest. Instead, all
Spike could see was the stranger's manhood. It was so beautiful, he forgot to breathe.
It was long and thick and hooded. Spike wondered if it was this big in the inevitable
shrinkage of the icy air, how large would it be lying by the heat of the dancing flames of
the cave fire?
Suddenly, the sound of a snapping twig brought him back to awareness and Spike pulled
the furs down over the injured legs just as Penn dashed up with a crude, hastily made drag.
"Were you checking him to see how bad he is hurt?"
Spike jumped back away from the body. He did not look up so that the confusion and
guilt would not be evident on his face as he waved his hand, indicating Penn should lay the
drag next to the body.
"Yes. His skin is cut and colored. I think he is broken inside his middle and his head is open
and bleeding. We will take him, but he will probably die before we get him back to the cave."
Penn had to admit the truth of that inevitability. This was a fool's errand, but he just
couldn't leave a man to die by the cold wind or the fangs of the wolf. It just wasn't the right
thing to do. With no further discussion, they grabbed the man by the shoulders and the legs
and they hoisted him onto the framed drag. They then loaded the water-filled gut pouches
on top of him and they each gripped a side-pole and heaved. The injured man was heavy
and the trip would be hard, but if they gave it thought the task would be more cumbersome,
so with a grunt of determination, Spike and Penn began the journey back to their cave.
By early afternoon, Willow was beginning to worry. The men had said they were only going
for water and should have returned by now. Dawn, the youngest female, was out digging
for roots and the other men had taken the boys to search for rabbits, which left Willow to
tend the cave fire alone.
Alone. It was so odd. Until the splitting of the clan, before the time of the long winters,
the White Cave Clan was a clan of large numbers. There were always numerous men,
women and children coming and going. In and out. Laughing and living in the sun, then
lying and rutting in the warm caves at night. The grunting, the moaning. It was a
reassuring sound. It was the sound of a clan at peace and prosperity.
Now the night brought silence and the only growling sounds were the stomachs of the
hungry, restless clan. During the day, desperation sent them all out to search for something
to give them one more day of survival. And Willow was here alone.
But not.
She wasn't alone. Instinctively, her hand protectively covered her belly and she wondered
about the small thing growing inside her. At first she wasn't sure. She had grown up hearing
the other women of the clan talking about the signs. She had stopped her bleeding at the time
of the high moon. She was tired beyond what the scant supply of food should have
caused. Finally when she began getting sick every morning, she knew there was no
more denying it. She was with child.
If this was the old time, she would rejoice and the other women of the clan would welcome
her into their ranks. She would dream of it being a male child who would grow to be a
strong warrior and provider. Or possibly a female child. Not as desirable, but still she
would grow tall and broad at the hips to attract a good male and in preparation of having
her own children.
But these were the lean, hungry years and the truth of it was, this child had no real hope
of growing in the sun and multiplying in the clan. The hard reality of it was, Willow
probably would not even survive the trauma of giving birth. That was a concept that
almost brought her relief. It would mean an end to this harsh existence.
"WILLOW! WILLOW, come and help!"
Willow forgot her self-pity at the sound of her man's voice, and she ran to the mouth of the
cave to see what was causing Penn's urgency. What she saw confused her and stopped her
dead in her tracks. At first she thought it was one of the men from the White Clan that had
been injured, but when she caught a glimpse of the man's head and saw the shock of dark
hair, she knew it was no man that she knew.
Her brother and her mate had gone for water and returned with a dead man on a wooden drag.
It was strange. If this was an interloper that had challenged the hunting grounds of the clan
and her men had killed it, such was the way of the land. Why would they bring him back
with them?
"What is that? Who is that?"
Willow stood to the side and watched as they dragged the wooden frame into the cave and
let it drop. Both men sat at the side of the fire to warm themselves and they drank water as
they waited for their strained muscles to stop screaming. Spike scowled at Penn as he
answered Willow's questions.
"It is a man we found at the side of the water. Your mate insisted we bring him back with us.
He was alive when we loaded him on the drag but he's probably dead by now. I wanted to
just leave him to the wolves. It don't make no sense to haul him here. If he lives, he is
another mouth we can't feed. If he dies, we may have his clan hunting for him."
Willow was already ignoring her brother's bitching and she had begun to peel back the furs
to check the man for signs of life and damage. As a woman of the Cave Clan, she was raised
in the ways of earth medicine and she would do whatever she could to preserve life.
Spike watched with apprehension as Willow pressed her ear to the stranger's chest.
After a few moments, she sat up with a smile on her lips.
"He is alive."
5/28
AUTHOR: Bmblbee
Buffy Fandom by use of the characters only
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Adult content. Some M/M sexual content. Minor mentions of Het.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns nothing including these characters.
Summary: HAU. Set in the year 5000BC Spike's clan is dying in the grip
of the last mini-ice age. While they are reluctant to leave the cave of their
ancestors, they know that they will freeze and starve if they stay. Suddenly,
they find a stranger in their midst. A member of a nomadic clan that can
show them the way to salvation.
Warnings: Not a lot of sex but what there is, is graphic.
Thanks to Naughty_Fae for the pre-read. All errors are by choice of the Bee.
Archived at: http://www.captainperoxideandthewhelp.com/
Anyone else wishing to take it should ask first please.
Link to previous chapters HERE
Special thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banner
Quickly and cautiously, Spike and Penn hurried over to where the stranger lay in a
crumpled heap of arms and legs and furs. His face was slack, his eyes were closed and
his head was cocked at an odd angle, which indicated to Spike that the man was probably
dead and no threat. Still, just to be certain, Spike took the blunt end of his spear and he
poked at the belly of the beast.
When the stranger moaned and twitched, both Spike and Penn leapt back, crouched into an
attack stance and raised their spears with the expectation that the man would jump up and
lunge at them. When he didn't, the two men of the White Cave Clan eased forward again.
"Who is he, Spike? Why is he here in our land?"
Spike gripped his spear close to his body as he turned in a full circle and visually searched
the surrounding area for any movement or danger. A man without a clan did not make sense.
If this was a trap, then more men could be hiding in the forest and waiting to launch an
assault against the White Clan.
"I don't know who he is, but a man like this does not travel without a clan. We will leave
him. His own people will come for him. It is not our problem. Go fill the water pouches
and we should get back."
Penn was not so sure that that was the right thing to do. He looked up and could see the
faint traces of blood on the cliffside where the man had struck as he tumbled down.
"He is still alive, Spike. If we leave him here, he will either freeze or the wolves will eat at
his still-breathing body. Willow would kick both our asses if she found out. He must have
fallen from up there. If his clan was going to come for him, they would have. They have left
him to die, Spike. We are a better people than that."
Spike squatted down and dipped his gut skins into the flowing stream to quickly fill them up.
As he did, he kept his eyes trained on the fallen stranger and his ears piqued for any
foreign sounds from the meadow or forest behind him. He also gave consideration to
Penn's words. As much as he hated to concede, it was all true. Especially the part where
Willow would shove a furry boot up their butt for their refusal to help this man.
With a shake of his head and a huff of defeat, Spike finished his task and he tucked his wet
hands under his armpits to warm them. As he stood and glared at the handsome stranger
his mind was already on the how-to of hauling the big man back to their cave. At first,
he considered building a fire and warming the man here, but the lingering fear of discovery
by a clan of stronger numbers urged him to take the injured man and vacate the area as
quickly as possible.
"Fine. I still think we should leave him but if we are taking him back, we need to do it
quickly. You hurry to the forest line and bring strong branches and vine to make a drag.
I will check him to see how badly he is broken and wrap his furs tightly around him.
Penn nodded and hurried to comply.
Reaching into his belt pouch, Spike extracted his flake stone. It had been honed to an
impressive razor-sharp edge and was still coated with the fresh blood of the deer he was
cutting last night. Spike had no qualms about adding the blood of this stranger to it. If this
was a trick or the stranger made any show of aggression, the flake stone would cleanly slice
the man's throat in the blink of an eye.
Spike circled the limp body. Each time he would nudge it with his foot, the man would
moan, although he never opened his eyes. When it appeared that there would be no attack,
Spike marginally relaxed. He crouched down at the side of the man and he reached out to
touch him.
The stranger was cold, indicating he had been lying there for at least one notch of the
sun. The bruising on the area of his exposed midsection told Spike that he was probably
broken inside. That was not good. A man usually died if something inside him was
damaged. When Spike rolled the man over on his side in order to tuck his furs as close
to his body as possible, he located the worst of the damage.
There was a bloody wound on the back of the man's head. It was deep and Spike could
see through to the white bone inside, but the good news was that the bone was not cracked
open and the grey stuff inside was not oozing out. Spike had seen that happen more than
once and he knew that if the head injury was too harsh, the man could not live.
The blood that coated Spike's hands was cold and thick and stuck to the man's long, thick
dark hair. It was strange. All the men of the White Clan had light hair. On all parts of
their body. Suddenly, Spike's mind was obsessed with the question of whether the hair on
this man's hidden area was as dark as on his head. He couldn't imagine why it was so
important to him but it was. He had to know. He had to look.
Spike's head snapped up to assure himself that Penn was still on his errand of retrieval.
Although he was still out of sight, Spike knew that time was of the essence. Penn understood
the urgency of getting this man and leaving the area, and he would be back soon.
Spike again poked the man but the stranger's eyes still remained closed. Spike then shouted
into his ear.
"Hey! Hey! Wake up!"
When there was no response, Spike cautiously reached over and he lifted up the man's
heavy furs. His legs were cut and bruised. They were also covered in the same dark hair
and they were thick and strong. This man was from a well-fed clan. Spike wondered how
that could be in such harsh conditions. If the White Clan was suffering, how could this clan
be doing so well?
But that wasn't the question of the moment.
Spike checked one more time, and off in the distance he could see the odd, lumbering
movement that he recognized as Penn's gait. He gave one more fast jerk of the furs and
exposed the unconscious stranger's manhood to the cold morning air.
In answer to his puzzle, yes, the hidden hair was dark, almost black as it formed a wild,
curly nest. But as facinated as he was, the hair no longer held his interest. Instead, all
Spike could see was the stranger's manhood. It was so beautiful, he forgot to breathe.
It was long and thick and hooded. Spike wondered if it was this big in the inevitable
shrinkage of the icy air, how large would it be lying by the heat of the dancing flames of
the cave fire?
Suddenly, the sound of a snapping twig brought him back to awareness and Spike pulled
the furs down over the injured legs just as Penn dashed up with a crude, hastily made drag.
"Were you checking him to see how bad he is hurt?"
Spike jumped back away from the body. He did not look up so that the confusion and
guilt would not be evident on his face as he waved his hand, indicating Penn should lay the
drag next to the body.
"Yes. His skin is cut and colored. I think he is broken inside his middle and his head is open
and bleeding. We will take him, but he will probably die before we get him back to the cave."
Penn had to admit the truth of that inevitability. This was a fool's errand, but he just
couldn't leave a man to die by the cold wind or the fangs of the wolf. It just wasn't the right
thing to do. With no further discussion, they grabbed the man by the shoulders and the legs
and they hoisted him onto the framed drag. They then loaded the water-filled gut pouches
on top of him and they each gripped a side-pole and heaved. The injured man was heavy
and the trip would be hard, but if they gave it thought the task would be more cumbersome,
so with a grunt of determination, Spike and Penn began the journey back to their cave.
By early afternoon, Willow was beginning to worry. The men had said they were only going
for water and should have returned by now. Dawn, the youngest female, was out digging
for roots and the other men had taken the boys to search for rabbits, which left Willow to
tend the cave fire alone.
Alone. It was so odd. Until the splitting of the clan, before the time of the long winters,
the White Cave Clan was a clan of large numbers. There were always numerous men,
women and children coming and going. In and out. Laughing and living in the sun, then
lying and rutting in the warm caves at night. The grunting, the moaning. It was a
reassuring sound. It was the sound of a clan at peace and prosperity.
Now the night brought silence and the only growling sounds were the stomachs of the
hungry, restless clan. During the day, desperation sent them all out to search for something
to give them one more day of survival. And Willow was here alone.
But not.
She wasn't alone. Instinctively, her hand protectively covered her belly and she wondered
about the small thing growing inside her. At first she wasn't sure. She had grown up hearing
the other women of the clan talking about the signs. She had stopped her bleeding at the time
of the high moon. She was tired beyond what the scant supply of food should have
caused. Finally when she began getting sick every morning, she knew there was no
more denying it. She was with child.
If this was the old time, she would rejoice and the other women of the clan would welcome
her into their ranks. She would dream of it being a male child who would grow to be a
strong warrior and provider. Or possibly a female child. Not as desirable, but still she
would grow tall and broad at the hips to attract a good male and in preparation of having
her own children.
But these were the lean, hungry years and the truth of it was, this child had no real hope
of growing in the sun and multiplying in the clan. The hard reality of it was, Willow
probably would not even survive the trauma of giving birth. That was a concept that
almost brought her relief. It would mean an end to this harsh existence.
"WILLOW! WILLOW, come and help!"
Willow forgot her self-pity at the sound of her man's voice, and she ran to the mouth of the
cave to see what was causing Penn's urgency. What she saw confused her and stopped her
dead in her tracks. At first she thought it was one of the men from the White Clan that had
been injured, but when she caught a glimpse of the man's head and saw the shock of dark
hair, she knew it was no man that she knew.
Her brother and her mate had gone for water and returned with a dead man on a wooden drag.
It was strange. If this was an interloper that had challenged the hunting grounds of the clan
and her men had killed it, such was the way of the land. Why would they bring him back
with them?
"What is that? Who is that?"
Willow stood to the side and watched as they dragged the wooden frame into the cave and
let it drop. Both men sat at the side of the fire to warm themselves and they drank water as
they waited for their strained muscles to stop screaming. Spike scowled at Penn as he
answered Willow's questions.
"It is a man we found at the side of the water. Your mate insisted we bring him back with us.
He was alive when we loaded him on the drag but he's probably dead by now. I wanted to
just leave him to the wolves. It don't make no sense to haul him here. If he lives, he is
another mouth we can't feed. If he dies, we may have his clan hunting for him."
Willow was already ignoring her brother's bitching and she had begun to peel back the furs
to check the man for signs of life and damage. As a woman of the Cave Clan, she was raised
in the ways of earth medicine and she would do whatever she could to preserve life.
Spike watched with apprehension as Willow pressed her ear to the stranger's chest.
After a few moments, she sat up with a smile on her lips.
"He is alive."