Beautiful Broken
Author: NA13
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing(s): spike/xander
Warnings: non con, dark fic, various kink love play, slave fic, talks about extreme past torture
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: Spike buys a broken slave, Xander, who is severely traumatized from being trained to be a pet for demons. Slowly he is able to help Xander and heal him as master and slave explore a consensual D/s relationship.
Nominated Category:
Best Slave!Fic: Acted TV & Movies - Slash,
Most Angst: TV & Movies
&
Best First Time - Slash
Chapter 1
Xander twitched his shoulder muscle again, trying to relieve the cramp that threatened at the edge of his awareness, but he knew better than to do any more than this small movement. Nope, lots of people had called him stupid, but he wasn’t that stupid. He twitched again, pulling his bound hands slightly away from his back to try to stretch a little, but when the boots in front of him turned toward him, Xander immediately stilled.
Nope, not doing anything here. See me doing nothing, Xander prayed as he knelt on the low bench with the other merchandise: eyes down, back straight, wrists bound, and chest out. Yep, rule-followin’ Xan the man just following the rules. The man next to him bumped into him, and Xander didn’t even turn his gaze from the floor in front of him when the man suddenly erupted into screaming. He didn’t need to see the end of the guard’s stick pressing into the flesh, electricity holding the body captive and rigid as the victim screamed. Nope, he didn’t need to see that, because he had felt it often enough.
And right about... Xander waited. Now. The smell of urine assaulted his nose, but that was why they had been placed on the bench, so that their decorated and perfumed bodies wouldn’t be soiled with the urine of terrified slaves. Xander thought it was funny that the others were so scared, because before his habit of talking had been beaten out of him, he’d learned that most hadn’t even known about demons before being captured into this loverly little business. They could still have the illusion that if they obeyed and spread their legs and played good little house pet, they might survive. Xander knew better.
Xander had seen human bodies turned inside out and eaten and ripped apart and their eyes pulled out and their hearts pulled out and their legs pulled off. He hadn’t shared any of this, but he knew what life as a demon’s slave would be like, and he knew tha,t whether he fought or not, it would end the same. The only difference was how much pain he could spare himself by obeying.
A hand closed on his shoulder, and following that non-verbal signal, Xander stepped off the bench and began to follow his trainer to the ring. The last sale was being dragged off-stage by his collar and leash. His own trainer showed off by leaving Xander’s leash dangling down in front where the chain banged into his cock with every step. Of course, Xander could prevent that by walking without the slight twist to his hips, but he’d learned well that when he walked he had to make the small decorative chains at his hips twist about his legs invitingly. So Xander twisted and ignored the heavy chain bouncing around his genitals. He kept his eyes firmly down, in part because of the training which now made it uncomfortable for him to look up, and in part because the huge number of demons in the seats around him made him feel like the last hot dog at a baseball game.
When his trainer stopped, Xander knelt with his knees apart, his shoulders back and his eyes down. The Korloth trainer snapped his fingers and gave Xander a tap with his foot, and Xander obediently turned ninety degrees right, so that he now faced the main audience. A tap with the long training cane at the neck, and Xander immediately folded, his forehead to the dusty ground and his butt resting on his legs. He felt a knife at his wrists before his bonds were cleanly sliced, but he continued to hold his hands in position, his right hand firmly grasping his left wrist.
A tap on his butt and Xander resumed the first position. A snap and two taps with a foot and Xander turned his back to the audience, still holding position. Xander could hear the whispers of the audience members grow louder, but he didn’t care if he did look stupid out here performing like a trained dog. Okay, he cared; he just didn’t care as much as he cared about that cane not coming down on his back to lay his skin open. If Korloth demons weren’t good at healing magic, Xander would have been covered in scars, because he had learned the hard way just how little his defiance mattered. You argued and you just got tied into position and beaten.
The tip of the cane pressed into the crack of Xander’s ass, and he quietly assumed the most humiliating of the positions, legs apart, arms on the ground, head resting on arms and ass waving in the air for everyone to see. He felt the cane slide into him, and he breathed out and relaxed to try to ease the passage of the intruder. His trainer pushed it in far enough for it to stick up in the air like a flagpole before he walked away. Xander could hear his footsteps fade, but he knew the consequences of looking up or moving in any way that would make that dreaded cane sway. Keep the cane steady: that was his only goal. The audience’s whispers increased and now the auctioneer began his business.
“We do our business not in the mundane humans you could pick up on the street, but in the exotic, the half-breeds, the magically talented, the unusual, and today’s sweet boy here is quite a pick. Leshar has always been known for his excellent training, and this time he set himself a challenge. He has taken a demon-hunter and turned him into your own pleasure slave.” Xander listened with half an ear, most of his brain focused on not moving the cane. Leshar--Xander had never before known his trainer’s name, and somehow Leshar just didn’t sound evil enough for a demon that had done the things to Xander that Leshar had done.
“But, ladies and gentlemen, he was not only a demon-hunter, but a minion of the Slayer herself. He fought next to her against the Master of Aurelius and Angelus and a dozen other demons who used to grace our ranks. But, for the right price, this little demon-killer will kneel at your feet and beg to bring you pleasure.” Xander tried not to let the words bother him; hell, he tried not even to listen, but now so many questions had been answered. For six months he had wondered: why him? Six months he had cursed his luck. Six months he had assumed this was all some mistake from which Buffy would save him, but now he knew. He’d been taken and obviously magically shielded so that some demon could get pleasure out of beating him to death for helping Buffy. Perfect.
“And Leshar has saved you a real treat, ladies and gentlemen. Leshar has not trained this slave to the most vital of slave duties.” Xander felt a scaly hand at his hip, but he didn’t flinch at all. Leshar had taken a good five months to beat out that flinch response, and now Xander’s body didn’t even consider flinching, no matter what touched him--a hand, a hot poker, a feather, a knife. He could stand still while someone traced patterns in his back with a hot knife, and boy wasn’t that just something to brag about.
“Leshar has never entered this beautiful slave with anything larger than the cane, so you will have the pleasure of opening this beauty yourself.” The crowd’s murmurs significantly grew. Xander felt the cane being withdrawn, but he held position, even as the cane whistled and came down on his back, opening a line of fire.
“Leshar does produce quality material,” the auctioneer said with glee. A tap on the butt and Xander returned to position one. A snap and two taps with a foot and he turned back to face the audience, still in position.
“As you can see, the boy is trained with your standard commands, including the five kneeling positions, heeling, four punishment positions; and he can use his mouth to provide any number of pleasures.”
Xander felt a finger at his mouth, and he did whatever he did when anything touched his mouth: he opened and took it in as he used his tongue to caress and began to suck.
“Oh yes, I give you my word, he can provide enthusiastic entertainment.” The audience laughed, but Xander continued on his assigned task until the finger withdrew. The cane touched his stomach, and Xander went to hands and knees, allowing his head to hang down. He felt the weight of the slender auctioneer settle in as he took a seat.
“So, what is my first bid for this morsel?” A hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head up so quickly that Xander barely had time to close his eyes to avoid looking at the audience.
“1,500,” came a rough voice.
“An insult!” replied the auctioneer in a shocked voice. “Six months of training--longer than any other slave provided by Leshar, a history of fighting with the Slayer, an untouched hole to drive into, an obedient pet to sit by your side. $1,500 is an insult.” The hand released his hair, so Xander dropped his head back down, trying to block out the whole ordeal and focus on his hopes for the future: quick death, avoidance of pain, maybe a nice blanket to curl up under at night. Yep, never say he hadn’t held on to his dreams.
“$2,500.”
“$2,550.”
“$2,600.”
“$2,700.”
“$2,750.” A series of bids came from across the audience with no prompting from the auctioneer.
“Well, obviously this crowd doesn’t understand your value,” the auctioneer crooned in a soothing voice as he ran a hand through Xander’s hair. Xander amused himself by mentally reviewing all the things he could say -- well, things he could say if he weren’t a slave. He’d start with, ‘my value tends to be tied to the cost of donuts.’ Oh, he had it, he’d announce, ‘Replacing the broken walkie-talkie, $10 at Wal-mart. Mucking up a love spell, $500 in property damage. The Xander who caused it all, priceless.’
The weight disappeared from his back and a touch on his shoulder brought him to his feet ready to follow, but then the auctioneer simply stood, so Xander began to sink back down, confused.
“No, no, my boy. You stand right there.”
Xander straightened his knees and kept his eyes on the ground.
“These people need to appreciate what a prize you are, so you are going to give them a demonstration.”
A door opened to the side, and Xander could hear chains rattling, hardly surprising at a slave auction. The sound approached, now paired with a fierce growling and the shuffling of many feet. Xander wondered what was going on, since he hadn’t seen anything other than well-trained humans or mostly humans in the slave pens, but something wasn’t going down without a fight. A stake unexpectedly appeared within his vision, thrust toward him by the auctioneer’s hand.
“Here’s the evening’s entertainment. This fledge was turned so his sire could torture the human he used to be. This slave once hunted vampires. So, we’re going to have a little contest.”
Xander watched as the auctioneer took Xander’s hand and placed the stake in it, curling the fingers around the smooth wood.
“If the human kills the vampire, you are going to pay the proper amount for having such a wonderful treat kneeling at your feet. If the vampire kills the human, Leshar is out a lot of time and money and the fledge goes free.”
A snap and two taps turned Xander and he put his back to the audience without comment. It was not as if anyone wanted his comment anyway, but Xander suddenly realized that he’d been granted an easy out. All he had to do was let the vampire kill him, and this would all be over. Of course, that meant one more vampire running around the world, but he’d long ago realized that vampires were going to be there until the end of time, so what difference did that make?
Determined to follow through on his suicide, Xander almost missed the order to fight, but the part of his brain that had developed to always listen to his Master’s orders brought up his eyes before he had even fully processed the command.
The minute he saw the game-faced Riley snarling at him in a crouch, Xander knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t allow Riley, with his knowledge of the military, to help the demon community. He couldn’t let the man Buffy loved live like this. Oh shit, who was he kidding? He just couldn’t lie down and die for Captain Cardboard. The man might have stolen the heart of the woman Xander still secretly adored -- and betrayed that same woman and proved himself clueless on so many occasions that Xander’s soldier memories begged to write him up -- but he’d be damned if Riley Finn was going to kill him.
Xander stood with his feet heavily planted even as Riley crouched and judged his weaknesses. When Riley lunged, Xander gasped and fell back a step, luring the fledge into the one weakness every fledge had: arrogance. Of course, Riley’s memories and training probably didn’t hurt his confidence either.
The fledge smiled and lunged forward again; and again, Xander plastered a scared look on his face as he fell back another step; and then the fledge charged, eager to kill the prey and claim his freedom. Xander simply stood, and before Riley could notice the change in tactics, he had speared himself by charging right into Xander’s stake ... and Xander had a close-up for Riley’s last expression: profound confusion. Then the vampire turned to dust, and Xander knelt, laying the stake far enough away that he couldn’t easily reach it as he went into position.
“Ladies and gentlemen, wasn’t that an interesting display. Here we thought we were providing a challenge, since that fledge took out three of the minions sent to capture him, but our little demon-hunter made short work of him.”
Xander held position, not even doubting what the next part of the show would entail, but taking out Riley Finn almost made it worth it. Yep, life was like one giant math class, with him the loser who couldn’t figure out how to add. Maybe even a math class with clowns. Oh yeah, and this auctioneer was definitely in the running for biggest clown, he thought as he waited for the tap.
The auctioneer walked toward the audience, and made two definite taps on the floor. Xander rose and quickly walked to where the auctioneer had tapped and lay down on his stomach, his arms straight out from his shoulders and his legs spread. Yep, math class with clowns and giant bug ladies… that was about as much fun as his life, he thought, as he heard the auctioneer walk around his body. He kept his forehead to the ground as his trainer had taught him.
“Such obedience should be rewarded, but we certainly can’t allow this slave to think that he can kill his betters without consequence, so what shall be his reward and what shall be his punishment?” the auctioneer called out.
Xander listened to the various suggestions, both with dread that creatures with such blood-thirst might buy him and with relief that no one would injure him that badly at the point of sale. Nope, that kind of life-threatening injury would come later, he thought to himself as the auctioneer announced the reward and the punishment. Oh goodie. Xander just loved it when they played stupid fuck-with-the-human mind games.
Xander rose to his hands and knees and crawled over to the implements spread on the floor. He knew full well that, if he chose the lighter instruments, he would simply be hit more, so he closed his lips around the bullwhip, careful not to leave teeth marks since he wasn’t sure whether that spell could restore his teeth again. Xander crawled back to the auctioneer and laid the whip at his feet before going back into position with his head between the auctioneer’s feet.
“Please, Master,” Xander begged in a soft, demon-approved voice. “Please punish me for thinking myself worthy of such a fight. Please remind me that I’m just a slave and must live for my Master’s pleasure. Please, hurt me and make me bleed so I remember my place. Please make sure that I always know that I must accept that my superiors have control over every part of me.”
Xander pulled out the sentences from memory; he had a whole mental library of such phrases that he could spew out without even hearing himself talk. Yeah, punish, right. They liked torturing him, so torture him they would, he thought, as his voice continued -- completely separate from his thoughts. When the whip came down on his back, he carefully made sure to keep his voice even as he begged for more. Eventually the whip stopped, and Xander resumed his preferred silence.
Three taps on the floor and Xander turned presenting his front while taking the same spread-eagle position. This time he closed his eyes since he couldn’t actually lower his gaze like this.
“Oh, such immediate and happy obedience,” the auctioneer pointed out, and Xander’s mental snort reverberated through his mind, although he remained perfectly still. A touch on his stomach sent him to his hands and knees.
“Can’t you just see this beauty begging for your whip, your cock, your horn, your claw?” the auctioneer asked, and then Xander heard a single tap. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to spot the position of the tap against the side wall of the stage before standing and walking to the spot. He placed his hands on the wall, spread his legs, arched his back, stuck his butt out and dropped his head. He could feel the auctioneer’s hand running on the inside of his thigh, but there really wasn’t much he could do about it.
“Oh, I am half tempted to purchase such a treat myself. Look at the arch of that back, the perfect stillness of his body, and ladies and gentlemen, I am telling you that his muscles are perfectly formed under this lovely skin. Those of you who took time to check out the merchandise before the opening bell can attest to that. So, let’s start bidding again.”
“10,000,” a voice called, and the crowd gasped.
In his head, Xander looked at the buyer askance and demanded, ‘What the hell are you thinking?’ On stage, Xander waited patiently.
“11,000.”
“11,050.”
“11,100.”
“11,500.”
“11,750.”
Came a flurry of voices even as the auctioneer’s hand wandered around the inside of his thigh. The crowd grew quiet. Xander felt the touch at his shoulder, and he turned to follow the auctioneer to the front of center stage, sinking down into position when the auctioneer stopped.
“Look at this darling boy. Surely someone will pay more for the privilege of owning such a trophy: a minion of one Slayer, a demon-hunter, the mate of a second Slayer.”
The last words caused a new flurry of whispers that almost covered the sound of a snap and two touches, but Xander obediently turned. And yep, the pervert was touching him right in the crack, so Xander folded into the correct position, a position that gave every demon in the place a close-up view of his ass.
“Oh, yes, surely that’s worth more,” the auctioneer cooed in a voice that Xander really just wanted to point out sounded like a stoned Mary Poppins.
“12,000,” a voice called into the silence. The auctioneer’s cane now began to run up and down Xander’s crack suggestively, and Xander considered the irony of becoming a sex object under these circumstances, after dreaming of being one for most of his teen years.
$12,100,” a second voice finally called.
“Are we sure we want to pass up such perfection, ladies and gentlemen?” the auctioneer asked, but the room remained silent. “Going once…Going—”
“$15,000,” called a familiar British voice, and for the first time in months, Xander had to catch himself before actively disobeying an order. He came so close to turning to look that he could feel his own heart race in fear even thinking of the punishment he would earn for such disobedience.
“Finally, a demon who knows quality. William the Bloody of the Order of Aurelius has no doubt come to purchase some vengeance for the death of the patriarch of their order. Oh, if no one else will bid, I fear this beautiful body will be torn and broken quite beyond repair. Anyone?” the auctioneer appealed to the audience. “Going once….Going twice…and,” the auctioneer paused dramatically. “Gone.”
The crowd instantly resumed their interrupted conversations, not caring about the life that had been sold and uninterested now that the entertainment had ended.
“Oh my boy, I have so enjoyed playing with you, and I do wish I could have found you a better Master,” the auctioneer commented with an affectionate caress of a buttock, but Xander ignored the words since they didn’t require a response from him.
So, Fangless had bought him, which could mean that Buffy sent him and he was about to go home -- which left him rather unemotional since he didn’t even know how to be that person anymore. Hell, truthfully he didn’t know if that person even existed.
He’d seen plenty of slaves come and go in his trainer’s stable. He’d seen lots of humans break under the whip, and he highly suspected that he was broken. Of course, he’d been broken before his trainer had taken him, but now the break was just a little more obvious, as was proven by the fact that he still knelt in position, waiting for Spike to tell him he could move.
He had never realized how silently the vampire could move until he could smell the leather and cigarette smell of Spike without ever having heard his footsteps. A hand touched his shoulder, and he gracefully rose and followed behind Spike, careful to make sure that his hip chains twirled elegantly, but at least the whole banging the cock wasn’t a problem, since his main chain was wrapped tightly around Spike’s fist.
Spike led him away from the purchasing ring to an area with tables, where he took a seat. Xander sank to his knees beside his new Master. Oh, he only had about three thousand questions, starting with whether the vampire still had a chip and whether he’d just been purchased or rescued, but in the end, the vampire’s answer didn’t matter, since he would follow Spike even if Spike threatened to torture and kill him. The alternative would be to get returned to his trainer, and he’d seen what happened to those who got returned.
“Listen up, ya wanker,” Spike said with a whack to his head, and Xander immediately folded into the down position, butt on his heels, head down and hands on his thighs. He also wondered why exactly Spike thought he had to remind a slave to listen, but then, the vampire never was the sharpest crayon in the box.
Xander had spent all of high school not listening, but after 6 months of training, he couldn’t help but listen for that one voice that had the power of life and death, and he kept reminding himself that his one all-important voice was now Spike, who had become his Master. Spike remained silent for quite a while now, but the voice continued.
“Ya mind me or I’ll stripe your back for ya,” he said in a hissing voice, and again with the obvious. Slaves hardly needed to be told that they had to obey or face punishment, but the vampire’s threat to hurt him did tend to suggest that the whole chip thing wasn’t a problem any more; and wasn’t that just lovely. The auctioneer might have suspected Spike of revenge for the Master, but Xander remembered any number of insults that Spike would want to avenge now that he had the chip out. Oh well, it wasn’t like Xander hadn’t expected to end up dead, and now he got to die at the hand of someone he knew, which made it oddly comforting. Life really did just keep throwing him the curves.
Of course, he didn’t say any of this to Spike; he simply knelt silent and obedient at his Master’s feet, waiting to see whether his Master would beat and rape him in public or take their grudge to a more private setting
Chapter 2:
Spike must have wandered around the complex a dozen times, going from the male slave pens to the female slave pens to the exotics which included a number of lesser demons. He ordered human blood from one booth and pretzels from a second, and Xander followed silently. This was the first time his trainer wasn’t watching, and Xander found that somewhat disturbing. He had entertained any number of customers even if they weren’t allowed to use his ass, and he always knew his trainer was there to either punish or protect, but now he had to rely on Spike, and considering Spike’s attention span, that wasn’t exactly comforting. Of course the fact that Spike hated him didn’t help, so Xander worked hard to show his training and not earn any more pain than Spike already had planned for him. Eventually Spike grew tired and headed to the far side of the complex, and Xander was beginning to suspect that they were in some sort of closed mall. Soon the slaver’s booths and organ sellers gave way to closed doors and narrow hallways.
“Home sweet home,” Spike announced as he opened a door to a simple room: double bed, short dresser, one easy chair, two straight-back chairs beside a small table, two other doors other than the entrance. Spike had dropped the chain leash, so Xander went into a standard kneel.
Spike puttered for a while, putter was really the best word Xander could come up with considering that Spike moved his coat from the table to the dresser to the chair and then back to the table. Of course, Xander watched this only in subtle glances, the type allowed a slave in privacy so that the slave could better learn to serve. Of course Xander had a problem because he couldn’t learn where to put the coat away if Spike couldn’t make up his hyperactive, pea-sized brain about where it went.
"Got ta get this over with, so get your arse up on the bed." Xander obeyed immediately, getting up on the bed and going into formal position in the middle. Spike didn't have to sound so miserable. Obviously Xander wasn't going to enjoy his rape, but the least Spike could do was enjoy the moment instead of acting like he was making some great sacrifice. After all if he didn't want to use Xander sexually, he could just go for a quick whipping and then let his slave get some sleep. Spike reached over and unhooked the hip chain, tossing it on the bedside table.
"Can't exactly bugger ya like that, idiot. Do what ya did at the auction." Great, ambiguous orders with lots of chances for Xander to screw up and earn punishment. He knew there was a reason he hated the vampire. The minute that thought popped up, Xander stomped on it, pounded it into submission. Spike was Master now and he would think good thoughts of Master, at least while Master was in the room. Doing anything else just led to slip ups and beatings, so he mentally chanted 'Spike is Master, Spike is right, Spike can do no wrong,' as he slipped into the Floor position, forehead on the bed, butt on his heels.
"Not that one, git, the one with your butt up in the air." 'Spike is Master, Spike is right, Spike can do no wrong' he chanted even harder as some corner of his mind tried to tell him that Spike was a moron. He silently slid into the Present position with his knees spread, his butt up in the air and his face on the bed.
"Never thought I'd live to see Droopy Harris quiet," Spike said, as he moved around. The sounds suggested he was undressing. "Course I can't really call ya Droopy Britches any more seein' as how ya lost the britches." Spike returned to the bed and slapped a hip, but Xander simply waited. He had expected a severe punishment for misunderstanding Master's order, but Spike left it at the one slap and crawled onto the bed if the tilting of the mattress was any indication.
"So, ya haven't been buggered yet, huh?" Spike asked, but it sounded like one of those questions you didn't answer rather than a direct question requiring answer, so he kept silent as a slick finger entered him. The slick surprised him and the finger surprised him; he had expected something far drier and larger based on his observations of others' training sessions. His trainer had a habit of leaving the sleeping cages open and facing the main training arena so that the humans could benefit from watching others' mistakes. In fact, it was a standing order that he watch others' training, which left very little time for sleep, but Xander had learned to sort of break his mind in half with half watching some screaming teenager getting dry raped and the other half napping.
He breathed evenly and willed his muscles to accept the invasion. Spike quickly added a second finger, and Xander had to actually concentrate now. He had certainly suffered far greater pain. Far, far greater. Far, far, far greater, and Xander stopped there because he couldn't repeat the word far often enough to encompass the truth. But the very fact that Spike who he had tied to a chair and insulted and fought was about to take the very last bit of Xander Harris made him struggle to keep position. The training won, and Xander held position and relaxed around the two fingers, at which point a third joined in and Xander felt the burn as Spike moved in far too quick for comfort, but far slower than Xander ever expected. Slaves didn't really expect comfort after all.
The third finger hadn't been in more than a few seconds when it pulled out, and Xander waited as Spike shifted before pressing against his barely opened hole. Spike pushed in, and Xander focused on breathing even as he reminded himself of things he had endured that made this downright pleasurable. Okay, not pleasurable in that he got any pleasure out of it, but pleasurable in that he was feeling a real lack of significant pain. Spike pushed in, and Xander's position with his arms on the bed and his head down allowed him to accept Spike's cock without moving. Once Spike was in, he stopped and Xander accepted the fact that the last part of him was gone. This was his life now, and this was his function.
Spike thrust in and out several times before freezing in place. Xander mentally checked himself to make sure he hadn't broken any rules. He was holding in position, he wasn't making any noises or using internal muscles to fight against Spikes' intrusion. He was doing good, so why was Spike stopping.
"Can't bloody do this without some participation," Spike snarled. Xander's trainer may have only used fingers and small rods, but Xander had learned how to move and writhe with great relish. All Spike had to do was order it. Xander waited for the order. Instead, the two of them remained frozen on the bed, joined in the most intimate of ways. "Deaf git," Spike said with a harder hit to the hip. "Bloody move," he snapped, and Xander took that as the order even if the words were wrong. He thrust himself back, skewering himself on Spike's cock, and he must have caught Spike off guard because the vampire grunted and fell back. Xander pulled forward again, stopping when he felt just the tip of Spike's cock still in him. He may have caught Spike off guard, which actually amused him considering Spike had given the order, but now the body behind him drove into him again, and Xander squirmed invitingly.
When Spike pulled back, Xander forced himself back again, and now their coupling became a contest. Could Spike drive forward before Xander drove himself back onto Spike's body? Could Spike withdraw before Xander pulled himself forward? From the avid growling, Xander guessed that Spike was enjoying himself, and suddenly a heavy weight fell on his back and pain drove into his neck even as Xander bent his head to the side to give Spike access. Spike gave two more short thrusts even while drinking, and Xander could feel fluid rushing into him even as he felt fluid rushing out of him, and just about the time that he expected to die, Spike pulled out of both ends, flopping over onto his back on the bed.
Xander quickly moved down to clean Spike, taking one lick at the vampire's cock before a hand caught his chain and stopped him.
"Considerin' where that's been, ya might not want to do that," Spike commented, and Xander mentally snorted so loudly that for a moment he feared that the sound might have actually escaped into the world. The thought didn't bother Xander at all, in fact, considering where his mouth had been, maybe Spike should worry about having it around his cock. Nevertheless, his Master had stopped him, so Xander quietly slipped off the bed as trained, going into position next to the bed.
"Didn't feel ya finish," Spike commented, and the vampire rolled to the side of the bed, but Xander held position, his limp and uninterested cock dangling between his legs.
"Oi, ya didn't even get started," Spike said in a clear complaint. No, really? Xander found himself saying in his head. He was so sorry for not being more enthusiastic about his rape. Of course, if Spike had ordered it, he would have gotten hard, he would have even reached completion, but the vampire had to order it, and Xander felt his resentment of Spike's complaint rise high enough to threaten his training, and he forced the thought back. Spike was Master; Spike was right. He hadn't done it right. Xander felt the guilt now rise, and he struggled to turn that into acceptance. Of course he hadn't done it right, he was just a worthless slave, and he would never be as good as his Masters. He had to work harder to please his Masters. In absence of an order, Xander concentrated on keeping his form perfect, his body relaxed and motionless.
Spike got up off the bed and started pacing, lighting a cigarette Xander realized as he heard the snick of the familiar lighter. Soon he smelled the cigarette smoke he always associated with Spike. Cigarette and leather. Well now cigarette, leather, and sex Xander mused as he smelled vampire on his own body, the remains of the rape still dripping from him onto the bare floor.
"Oi, I can't bloody relax with your sorry arse in the room," Spike complained, and Xander knelt. Really, what did the vampire expect him to do? Pop up and say, 'hey, that's okay, I'll just head down to the Bronze and play some pool'? And Spike accused him of being stupid? Pot and kettle, pot and kettle. Spike stomped across the room toward a second door Xander had noticed when they first came in, and Xander found himself praying it was a bathroom. He really should have peed on the floor of the back room when he had the chance because this was getting annoying.
"In," Spike ordered, and Xander flowed to his feet and walked into the closet without comment, sinking into first position once fully inside. "Go to bloody sleep," Spike ordered and slammed the door. Xander held position for several minutes, not disobedient as much as trying to figure out how to follow that order. For six months he had dreamed of sleeping outside of a sleeping cage, but now that he faced the reality, he had no idea what rules applied. Okay, if he backed into the corner and spread his knees, he could certainly continue kneeling, but he would never be able to both sleep and keep his hands at his back without the cage's restraints.
So, he could disobey Spike's order to sleep or he could break position. Xander scooted closer to the wall and settled his butt down on his heels with his knees slightly spread. Instead of putting his hands at the small of his back, he curled them in front and lay his head down on them. On one hand, he was more comfortable than he'd been in a long time, on the other, his stomach rebelled at the thought he wasn't in proper position. Out of position was a bad, bad place to be, but on the other hand, his bladder's complaints easily outweighed any other problems, and on the other hand he just wanted to beat Spike about the ears for not giving him clearer directions, and realizing that he had run out of hands a couple of "other hands" earlier, Xander fell asleep.
~~~
"What the soddin' hell do you think your doin'?" demanded an angry voice, and Xander was awake immediately. No stretching, complaining ‘please mom five more minutes’ for him. Nope the voice called and he was awake, but today's voice seemed mighty pissed. And pissed might be a good word for it Xander realized as he smelled the urine.
A small voice suggested he slide into position, but he knew the consequences for hiding an error were worse than the consequences for the error, so he maintained his current kneel with his hip leaning against the wall far out of alignment and his arms curled in front of him making a pillow for his head. All his weight fell on one knee, and he realized that he couldn’t feel his one leg, but he could feel the itchiness of cold urine against his arms. Focusing on Spike's knees, he never realized knees could seem so angry, but Spike's knees were almost vibrating, and Xander braced himself for a serious beating.
"Get out of there," Spike ordered, and Xander struggled to rise, his one knee that had taken his weight all night buckling even as Xander struggled to bring his body under control. He quickly left the closet, but when he went to kneel, his cramping leg went out from under him sending him crashing to the ground, and Xander struggled up into position, almost crying with the need to show Spike he could do better. He forced himself to put weight on the sore leg and straighten out into a formal kneel even as the returning blood flow turned his lower leg into a series of prickling pains with one giant cramp causing a burning pain to rip down his leg. Of god if he could only straighten it and get the muscle stretched, he might be able to stop the pain, but he knew he had already earned himself enough trouble, so he stayed in position, struggling not to allow the muscle cramp to pull his leg up.
“What the bloody hell do you…” Spike started yelling, but he stopped suddenly and only then did Xander realize he was trembling. The fear of the punishment and the lack of true sleep and the pain of his leg combined to overcome his conditioning, and Xander instantly concentrated on stilling his body and bringing it back under control. Oh god, he had to show Spike he could be a good slave. He couldn’t face being returned; he couldn’t face the punishment that would go with being returned.
Xander felt his body respond despite the hunger and fear and thirst and pain because he had lived with those things so long they didn’t rule him. He kept telling himself that as he held position at Spike’s feet, praying for the vampire to keep him. Xander knew he had failed, and he would take any punishment, but the only way he had to tell Spike was to hold position and prove himself. The longer Spike stayed silent, the more Xander realized that he wasn’t going to get mercy. He was tempted to tilt his neck and invite death, but he knew he didn’t have that choice either, so he told himself to just accept whatever Spike did. Accept because that’s what slaves did.
A hand pulled him up, and Xander struggled to follow the guiding touch, but his leg cramped, and he could only limp ungracefully, knowing that with every step he failed his Master more. Spike led him into the bathroom and turned on the shower, shoving him under the cold water as the vampire grabbed a towel and put it in the sink to get it wet.
“Bloody hell, wash your filthy arse,” Spike snapped, and Xander hurried to grab soap and the cloth, unfamiliar with doing this for himself. The water made his shivering return, and he stopped a moment to bring it under control before continuing to wash the sweat and stale urine off his body. He also happily peed, the yellow flowing down the drain. Spike wasn’t a big one for human functions, so Xander decided to pee whenever he could.
“Oi, ya stupid bugger,” Spike snarled when he returned to the bathroom, and Xander stilled, caught between wanting to go into a punishment position to show his regret and wanting to continue washing as ordered. He hadn’t decided yet when a hand reached in the shower for the temperature knob, moving toward the middle so that the water turned pleasantly warm. Spike stormed out of the room again, and Xander finished his work quickly. He really wanted to drink some of the wonderful water running over his body, but if his Master wanted him to have water, he would have given it, so Xander resisted the urge to disobey. Not sure whether he was supposed to get out or wait, Xander eventually settled for turning off the water and kneeling in the shower stall, his hair dripping onto the shower floor one plop at a time.
“Get your arse out here,” yelled a familiar voice, and Xander rose and went to his Master, kneeling down with his head on the ground by Spike’s foot and his hands held behind his back properly.
“What the soddin’ hell were ya thinkin’ peein’ on the floor like some child with the toilet not twenty feet away? Ya knew where it was ‘cause I watched you checkin’ every corner of the room when we walked in.” Xander just waited for Spike to shut up and start the punishment. He didn’t need the vampire to remind him that once upon a time he could open doors and he could decide to use a toilet, and he could talk to people and tell them he needed to use the bathroom. So as far as he was concerned the vampire could just shut up and get the whipping over with because he didn’t need to hear it.
“Wot, not got anythin’ ta say about that, wanker?” Xander considered a respectful ‘No, Master,’ but the tone sounded rhetorical and he didn’t need to buy any more trouble. “Bloody hell, you really don’t have anythin’ ta say, do ya?” Spike tone had gone from murderous to sarcastic, but Xander simply waited for the order to move into position. He hoped the vampire whipped his backside because he hated the stomach whippings; they made it so difficult to hold proper position when kneeling to the floor or even kneeling down. Didn’t really matter what he wanted though.
Spike just snorted and left the room, so Xander waited. The vampire obviously wanted to consider his options while showering, and while Xander hated waiting for punishment—it always ended up being so much worse—he knew that Spike would have to come up with a proper punishment for such bad behavior, especially considering this was Xander’s first full day with him.
When Spike came out of the shower, he banged around the room cursing and slamming drawers. Normally Xander would have spent his first morning surreptitiously watching his Master so that he could learn to serve, but Xander held the formal position with his forehead to the cold wood floor as Spike tended to himself. Inside Xander railed because he would never be able to prove his value as a slave if Spike didn’t punish him and then let him do his work, but outside he remained passive of his Master’s decision. When Spike finished, Xander heard heavy steps stop right behind him, but instead of the sharp crack of a whip, he only felt Spike hand reach under him to grab his leash chain before the vampire stormed out of their rooms, his slave in tow.
Xander followed silently even though he could have screamed once he noticed their direction. He wanted to throw himself at Spike's feet and promise to do better, promise to follow the rules, promise anything to just not go back to his trainer. He'd seen what happened to the slaves that got returned, and Xander had to order himself to just accept. Accept and survive. That's all that mattered and if Spike chose to return him now that he'd gotten his rape and revenge, Xander didn't have the right to beg anything else from the vampire. Of course, Spike might not know just how much revenge he was getting, Xander mused. The stupid vampire might just think his trainer would shove him back into the sale, but Xander knew better.
They reached an area defined by a red line on the ground, and various humans lined the wall, a few chained in provocative positions, but most in perfect kneeling forms. The other booths had proudly displayed humans in chains and cages, terrified and only partially trained, but Xander’s trainer always told visitors that he wouldn’t sell a slave until it had broken so thoroughly that it would kneel in position silent and respectful until it dropped dead. "Yes, can I help you?" asked a familiar voice, and Xander sank to his knees at his Master's feet, careful to keep perfect form, especially under the eyes of his trainer.
"Are you that one that trained 'im?" Spike asked with a jerk to the chain, and Xander mentally chanted his little acceptance mantra louder, loud enough to drown the feelings of rejection and pain. He wasn't enough: not good enough, not sexy enough, not smart enough or fast enough or obedient enough to even keep a Master. Slaves like that ended up with trainers; slaves like that ended up being the example used to train more obedient humans. Xander had no doubt just how much suffering he was about to endure.
"Did he displease?" asked that voice, and Xander focused on his breathing, making himself the perfect example of obedience in the hopes of taking one or two lashes off the end of the beating he was about to get. God, he only hoped it would just be a beating.
"No, just never really had one like this before," Spike said even as he stepped in front of Xander, and the very act of stepping between him and the trainer, in Xander's mind, put Spike at the center of his universe. The trainer laughed.
"He's yours vampire. I'm not about to punish someone else's slave, but if you're returning him for displeasing you, I can't give a full refund considering I can smell you in him. No longer the pretty little virgin, is he?" Xander kept his eyes focused on the back of Spike's knees. Just focus on Spike, he told himself.
"He's mine, and he'll soddin' stay mine. Just don't know how ta take care of a human like this, and I can't even bloody touch him without him tuckin' himself into some new position. The trainer truly laughed at that.
"You have no idea how much effort it took to get him to respond, and now he has a Master who's annoyed. How ironic." Xander went back to his inner dialogue now that he realized Spike wasn't selling him back. Yep. Ironic like him begging for Spike's protection. Ironic like Xander Harris being called pretty. Ironic like his own encounter with Faith, which came damn close to rape, being used to up his value so that someone else would pay even more money for the privilege of raping him again.
"Just show me the commands so I can soddin' well avoid them when I'm tryin' ta enjoy my pet," Spike snarled, and the trainer's laugh drew suddenly thin. Xander tried not to enjoy the sound of his trainer's discomfort because he couldn't afford such disrespectful thoughts, but he couldn't suppress all the enjoyment.
"May I?" his trainer asked, and Xander felt the chain being handed over without looking up. He shifted so that he now knelt at his trainer's feel. "First Position," his trainer explained as he began pointing out Xander's posture. Once he had completed a complete critique of Xander's form, Xander felt the tap at his head, and he went into the down position. His trainer then explained the rules and forms for that position, explaining the verbal and the tap commands. His trainer continued with each position, each time making sure Spike knew the signs of laziness or poor form that deserved punishment. Xander fell into the rhythm of following the taps, allowing his mind to wander as his body performed the familiar forms, the taps interspersed with rewarding rubs or corrective swats where earned.
Spike clearly didn't have his chip, and yet the vampire was showing a real lack of interest in the whole torture thing. Xander didn't get it. And if Spike didn't know how to care for a trained slave, why was he at a closed auction for trained slaves? And considering that last he’d seen Spike, the vampire had been stealing five dollar bills out of wallets at Scoobie meetings, where the hell did he get enough to buy a slave? And what about the others? Were the initiative still making problems because finding Riley turned into a vampire did suggest that all was not right in Sunnydale. He followed his trainer in response to a shoulder touch, actually disturbed by the lack of swinging chains because without them, his perfect rolling gait couldn't be judged. His trainer must have agreed because he ordered Xander to stand as he fastened a new chain low around his hips, the side chains dangling from his hip to his knee. This time when his trainer took off walking, Xander flowed after him, the light chains dancing in a perfect pattern as Xander showed off his walk. See Spike? No need to return the slave. Look at the pretty walk.
His trainer returned to Spike, and Xander sank to his knees. When the trainer held out the chain and Spike took it, wrapping the end around his fist as if he would never let go, Xander really had to control his tears of relief as he shifted into position at Spike's feet.
"Let's see you put him through his paces," the trainer's voice suggested, and Xander felt the first meaningful command from Spike. He focused everything into making his form perfect, remembering the small corrections from his trainer earlier. This was his only way of showing his gratitude and relief, and he wanted Spike to know, so he poured everything into keeping his back straight, his hips aligned, and his shoulders back as he went from position to position. When Spike started the heel walk, Xander kept his pace perfectly even, making the chains wrap around his legs and then spring back without any jarring or tangling. Spike stopped and Xander slid into position, feeling a light sweat from both the stress of being perfect and the length of the session.
"So as long as I don't tap him, he'll sit still for my touch?" Spike asked even as a slim hand reached down and ran though Xander's thick hair. The caress was clearly not a tap, so Xander remained in place, allowing his Master to touch as he wished, for the first time feeling safe that he was obeying Master and Master appreciated his obedience.
"I've found he reacts quite well to touch as reward. Other animals may require food rewards, but the giving or the withholding of touch is particularly effective with your boy," his trainer explained with the fond voice one normally used for a well-behaved dog.
"And what about carin' for him? Been a while since I've been human myself."
"He's a pretty easy one to take care of. I usually feed him once a day and give him water in the morning and at night." Xander felt the hand in his hair tighten, and Xander wondered what Spike wanted, but in the absence of a command he remained in position.
"And sleepin'?" Spike asked, and Xander understood Spike's concern. He'd been really angry, and Xander couldn't blame him.
"He's adapted to the sleeping cage. Did he give you trouble last night because I'm sure he remembers his lessons on the foolishness of fighting the cage." The trainer's voice took on dark tones, but Xander comforted himself with the fact that the trainer no longer had power over him. He was Spike's so he only needed to please Spike.
"Oi, don't have a cage and he didn't sleep very well last night," Spike said ambiguously, and Xander found himself grateful that the vampire didn't tell his trainer how poorly he had performed what with the whole being out of position. Peeing on himself didn't really bother him, but he didn't want his trainer to think that he didn't respect his Master, and breaking position would certainly be a sign of disrespect.
"I'm sure he didn't sleep well then," his trainer said knowingly. "They are animals of habit, and I doubt he even knew what to do without a cage. Xander really resented the fact that his trainer understood him so well. "I have his old cage here, and I'd be happy to sell it for a very reasonable price." The trainer started to walk away, and Spike followed, a touch on the shoulder keeping Xander in close heel even without the chain still clutched in Spike’s fist. Xander wasn't surprised when the trainer led them from the booth to the back area where slave cages lined the wall. Xander could tell from the sounds that his trainer had taken down a cage and placed it on the floor.
"Tap the top of the cage and give him the command 'in'," the trainer suggested.
"Mate, there is no way in soddin’ hell he’s goin’ ta fit in that," Spike said, and Xander found his inner voice laughing and cheering Spike on. Obviously Xander knew he'd fit, but the first time he had been faced with that cage, he had said almost exactly the same words.
"This is *his* cage. He's slept in here for the last six months, and I assure you he fits just fine." Spike must have doubted his trainer's words because there was a long pause before Xander heard the metallic tap on the cage and his Master's command.
"In," Spike said, and Xander turned so that his back was to the cage before folding into the ‘floor’ position. With his hands behind his back, he wormed his way into the cage butt first, folding his torso tightly down onto his knees as he wiggled back.
"Now you always want to make sure you keep an eye on them as they impale themselves. Some will try to squeeze in under the rod, and they can actually hurt themselves."
"Impale?" Spike asked in a strange voice, and Xander could hear him step up even as Xander continued working his way back into the cage, the rod at the back sliding into his hole so that he couldn't wiggle from side to side at all. "Wot the...?" he heard the shock in the vampire's voice, and he wondered how Spike was going to react to the cage's way of keeping his front half equally still. Xander pressed back until he could feel his feet slip into the slot at the back and the bars press into his buttocks. Xander felt the brackets close over his ankles and then the wrist strap looped around his wrists and pulled his arms tight to the top of the cage.
When the trainer appeared in his vision with the oddly deformed t-shaped bar, Xander opened his mouth and swallowed as the thin bar slid down his throat until a chin support slipped under his chin, and the rubber mouth form slipped under his front teeth. At this point the thicker bar snapped into place on the front of the cage, and his trainer easily lifted the cage to a table, leaving Xander to wonder if all demons were stronger than humans. Xander couldn’t move any part of his body except fingers and toes, and since he’d once seen the fingers cut off a slave who refused to stop flexing his hands, he’d learned not to move those either.
Xander relaxed as the tight cage made sure that his body stayed in position no matter what. So many days when he’d been forced to spend hours practicing perfect positions, Xander had actually longed for the cage where he could let himself sag and rest. In some ways, the cage had become his safe place since the rod down his throat prevented him from making any sound or even moving his head in the slightest, and so often it was his unguarded whispered words or his shrugs or his snorts of disgust that had gotten him beaten. The cage let him relax and gave him permission to not fight because fighting was impossible.
Xander's orders included actively watching anything taking place when he was caged, and for the first time, he could really look up into Spike's face. And boy didn’t Spike look shocked, which amused Xander considering that Spike had tortured people with railroad spikes. Heck, the whole sticking hot pokers into Angel thing far outweighed a bit cramped sleeping.
"This type of cage is perfect because the open front allows you to reach in for either punishment or reward and the tight fit actually helps the animal because he can relax and doesn't have to worry about holding position," his trainer explained in a solicitous lecture mode. "You always want to make sure that the sides are tight enough that you can't fit more than a single finger between the bars and their skin, but don't make the sides so tight that the animal's flesh bulges out between the bars, that's just cruel." And again with the irony, Xander thought to himself as he lay curled in a cage with rods shoved in either end holding him perfectly still. Yeah, don't want to be cruel to the poor little 'animals,' Xander thought, but he simply watched as Spike's hand reached out and touched his cheek tentatively, which surprised him because he'd never seen Spike as a particularly tentative person.
"In untrained slaves, getting the front on can be quite difficult, but with a sweet thing like your boy, it's fairly easy. He knows to keep his head in position and swallows to help the rod slide into place. You try." Xander opened his mouth wider so the mouth piece could easily slide out with the rod, and then his trainer handed the contraption to Spike. Spike looked at the thing for a minute before stepping up. Xander opened his mouth as the rod entered, but his trainer stopped Spike, giving him advice about angles and positioning even as Xander knelt in his cage with his mouth gaping, only the tip of the rod inside his mouth and drool gathering at the corner of his mouth.
By the time Spike had learned enough to close the front piece, locking the sides of the bar into place, Xander could feel the drool dripping off the corners of his mouth.
"Messy animals." His trainer made a disapproving noise as he absently wiped the corners of Xander's mouth.
"Yeah, well that's how they are, innit?" Spike commented as he slid the bar out again. Xander thought Spike would practice, but the vampire set it to the side and unbuckled his ankles and wrists before giving him a sharp tap on the top of his head. Xander happily squirmed forward, eager to reach Spike's side, especially since the order had been for kneel down, the most comfortable of the poses. By the time Xander reached Spike's side, he could almost feel Spike's aggravation through his skin, and Xander trembled with fear that he wasn't fast enough, that Spike would withdraw his protection and give him back to his trainer.
Instead Spike just stormed away without even a touch on Xander's shoulder or picking up the leash, leaving Xander motionless on the floor waiting. Xander could hear his trainer clucking disapprovingly, and he panicked that he had missed a command, but he couldn't remember a tap or a command to heel, so he stayed in place, quietly dying. That and quietly killing Spike for leaving him behind in this place with this demon. And quietly hoping that Spike would come back for him, and when he reached a point that he found himself praying for fangless to come get him, he knew that his suspicion about being broken was more fact that suspicion, but he couldn't really change that now.
An aggravated voice yelled, "Bloody hell, heel," and Xander immediately stood as gracefully as possible and trotted in the direction of his Master's voice, his chains merrily swinging. He found Spike smoking just outside his trainer's booth, and Xander went to his knees at Spike's feet.
"Six bloody months in that," Spike said, and Xander remained motionless while thinking things like, 'Well, duh. Did you think someone kidnapped me in order to set me up in a penthouse apartment with a couple of playboy bunnies?' Xander felt a touch at his head, and he went into kneel down position right before the touch returned, this time a firmer caress, clearly not a command as much as just a Master enjoying the feel of his slave.
"Know we had a bad night of it," Spike started, and Xander resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Or at least felt the urge even though the desire was faint enough to not really provide much resistance. "Not sure about that thing though. Tell me, do ya want me ta get it?" Spike asked, and Xander's mind instantly went into overdrive. He was a slave, he didn't have the right to want anything, but he was a slave and he had to answer his Master's questions. The Xander Harris part of him wanted to scream at the vampire, while the rest of his brain chased itself and tried to figure out what command to violate. Which would come with less punishment, he wondered.
He hadn't figured out how to answer that when he heard Spike sigh, the hand withdrawing, and Xander knew he had failed, he had waited too long and disappointed his Master. Locked into position, he didn't know how to show Spike he was sorry except by keeping his posture.
"Guess ya can't answer that. My decision as your Master, huh? Have ta say, when I saw you trot out on stage, I didn't think you'd take this so serious, mate." Spike stopped talking, and Xander waited. "Tell ya what. I want to do whatever will keep ya from goin' as nutty as Dru, so if you answer no, I'll assume that you can learn how ta sleep without last night's problems. If you answer yes, I'll assume that you're comfortable sleeping in the cage and can’t really deal with learnin’ a new rule right now." Xander thought about that. His Master didn't want problems in the morning, but he also didn't want Xander to start acting crazy, no matter that Xander suspected he already was crazy. So Spike wanted to know how to best make sure his slave would behave.
"So, do I go back and buy that thing?" Spike asked quietly.
"Yes please, Master." Xander whispered, and realized that these were his first words to his Master. From Spike's silence, he suspected that he had chosen wrong, nearly twisting in pain at the thought he had failed some test. But Spike simply touched his shoulder and started back for his trainer's room, Xander following at heel.
Chapter 3:
Spike ended up leaving Xander in a corner of the back room while he and the trainer talked at great length, and Xander concentrated on keeping his form perfect and his muscles relaxed and his breathing even as he considered what they might be saying. Xander could hear a lot of motion as his trainer’s footsteps walked from one shelf to another, but whatever they planned for Xander, they didn’t share with him, and Xander knew better than to try and catch a glance. Instead he focused on being the perfect slave, his trainer’s presence reminding him of his place more than the collar welded around his neck, more than the chain, more than the tattoo inside his cheek, more than his naked kneeling body. The very sound of his trainer’s footsteps made him focus, concentrate on making sure every cell in his body obeyed.
Soon enough, he heard Spike say, “Heel,” as he headed out of the room without even pausing. Xander stood and hurried after Spike, the sound of his trainer still clucking disapprovingly behind him. Spike didn’t have a cage, so maybe they couldn’t agree on a price. A part of Xander, a big part of Xander, was relieved. Nothing reminded him of his status more than sleeping in that cage. Another part of him was absolutely terrified. What if he couldn’t do it? What if he was so broken that he couldn’t ever exist without that cage? What did it say about him that he had actually asked for the cage, and god could he just take that request back now please? Spike was probably laughing at what a loser Droopy had turned out to be. He reached his place just a step behind Spike and he concentrated on making sure every motion was correct: arms motionless, hips swinging, and eyes down.
Spike led them back to the main area where he’d bought blood yesterday, and Xander went to his knees as Spike walked up to a counter.
“Human food, and some water,” Spike demanded once footsteps approached. Now that Spike had mentioned food, Xander realized how hungry he actually was. He hadn’t been fed the day before because his trainer probably did want to risk Xander being ill with nervousness.
“Got the kind with dried meat and the kind without, which ya want?” asked a bored voice that could have been a teenager working at Hotdog on a Stick rather than selling concessions at an illegal demon-run slave auction.
“With,” Spike said, and Xander found himself surprised. He remembered the thrill of feeding Spike animal blood even knowing the vampire hated it. Guess that just proved Spike was a better person…creature…than he was. When Spike started moving toward a table, Xander almost stayed behind without the touch or the command, but if he stayed here, he’d get in the way of a whole lot of demons who would probably get pretty aggravated, and so with his stomach clenching so hard as to eliminate not only hunger but the ability to eat and his heart pounding, he rose and followed Spike to the table.
When Spike sat, Xander didn’t go into the Position kneel. He went to the Floor kneel with his body under the table and his head on the floor in front of Spike’s foot. It was stupid, he kept telling himself, but if this had been some sort of test that Spike and his trainer had devised, he would rather be punished right away rather than be punished for breaking his kneel and then punished for trying to hide it, too.
“Oi, this some sort of eatin’ thing you’re doin’?” Spike asked.
“No, Master,” Xander replied, and he heard the heavy frustrated sigh above him.
“Okay, let’s try this again wanker. What are ya doin’ down there?” Xander considered the shortest and most effective way to answer. He’d often earned punishment for boring his trainer by using too many words.
“I broke the rules.” Instead of getting praised for admitting his wrong and using as few words as possible, he got another aggravated sigh from his Master.
“Wot did ya do wrong?” Spike asked, and from the thickening of the accent and the clipped tones, Xander guessed that he was about to find out what type of punishment Spike could deal out.
“I broke kneel without a command, Master.” Xander explained. Silence.
“Forgot ta tell ya ta heel, didn’t I?” Spike said in a thoughtful almost amused tone.
“Yes, Master.”
“Good thing my slave has the sense ta follow even when I do forget him,” and for a moment, Xander couldn’t even process that information. He didn’t get praised for breaking rules, he got punished. He always got punished. If he followed the rules he got petted and praised and fed. If he broke the rules no matter what the reason he got punished. He knew he’d be punished when he followed, but he would rather Spike punish him than some demon attack him for being in the way.
Xander felt the snap on his butt and he swung immediately into the Position kneel beside Spike.
“You were afraid I’d punish ya,” Spike said calmly despite even though Xander knew his Master well enough to hear the anger underneath. It wasn’t a question, so Xander just waited.
“Bloody hell, what does it take to get you ta talk?” Spike demanded to the air. Xander knew the question wasn’t *really* for him, so he made his voice as soft as possible so that Spike could easily ignore him if he wanted.
“A question, Master.” Spike was silent for so long Xander wondered if the vampire had even heard him, then a wide slave bowl with water appeared on the floor.
“Go on, then drink,” Spike ordered, and Xander lowered his mouth to the bowl, his chin in the water as he pulled the wonderful fluid into his mouth. He drank in big gulps until the water was so low he couldn’t reach any more. When he returned to position, water dripped off his chin and onto his chest.
“Bloody right you’re messy when you’ve been taught ta act like that,” Spike complained, but Xander was beginning to remember that Spike just complained; it didn’t mean he was in trouble or that Spike was mad.
“So, were ya afraid I would punish ya?”
“Yes, Master.” Xander replied as he realized Spike had heard his previous comment.
“Why didn’t ya smell of fear then?” Xander considered his answer, really not sure how to phrase it or how much Spike was asking to know.
“Smelling of fear is against the rules,” he settled on.
“So ya were punished for being afraid,” Spike clarified, but responses – or in this case anything seeking a response – must be phrased as a question, Xander thought with amusement as he recalled watching Jeopardy with Jesse and Willow. Old memory, one he hasn’t thought of much so it’s still bright and fresh. Another frustrated sigh.
“Were ya punished for bein’ afraid?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Oi, it’s like tryin’ ta get information out of a soddin’ Magic 8 ball: Yes, no, maybe.” Spike snarled. “HOW were ya punished, pet?” Xander sorted through the various memories of his punishments for that sin. Oh, his trainer always told him what sin he was being punished for, and Xander sought some sort of common element that would allow him to answer without boring Spike with a long list of all the punishments. He must have taken too long though because Spike suddenly said. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to bloody know.” Xander could relate. He often wished he could go back to not knowing a lot of things. Spike thrust a bowl at Xander, and Xander’s hands flew up to take it before he realized what it was. The bowl had lumps of greenish food Xander knew to be the rice/vegetable mix he normally ate, only this time there were chunks of white and brown meat in there too. Xander sat with the bowl in his hands without moving.
“What? Aren’t ya hungry?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Soddin’ hell, I wonder how much of this is the trainin’ and how much of this is you findin’ a new way to annoy the piss out of me now that ya can’t use all the hot water.” Spike snapped. “Is that a yes you aren’t hungry or a yes you are?” Spike must have caught himself though because he continued before giving Xander a chance to reply. “No, forget that. Xander, are you hungry?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Then why aren’t you eatin’?” Spike’s voice now had the carefully controlled tones of someone who clearly wanted to explode.
“I don’t know the rules for eating like this,” Xander admitted, and some part of him cringed at just how pathetic *that* sounded.
“You should come with a bleedin’ instruction manual,” Spike muttered. “How do you eat, annoyin’ slave of mine?”
“It depends on whether I’ve been obedient or not, Master.” From Spike’s tone, he knew which one Spike would go for. Funny, his trainer would have punished him for breaking kneel and rewarded him for controlling his mouth. Spike seemed likely to do the opposite, so Xander waited for the question. A hand ran through his hair, tugging a curl gently before Spike asked.
“You’ve been obedient, pet. So how do ya eat when you’ve been good?” Xander was so surprised he almost gave the wrong answer. God, just when you thought you had Spike figured out, the vamp threw a curve. Too many years of living with Drusilla was Xander’s best guess.
“My trainer feeds me from his hand,” Xander said, and only his training kept him in place as Spike growled loudly enough that he surely had gone into game face.
“Manipulative, overbearing, arrogant little piss-ant,” Spike muttered harshly even as he took the bowl back from Xander who immediately returned to position. Xander assumed Spike wasn’t describing him. A sharp rap on the head sent him to the down position, and Spike’s hand immediately soothed the spot either because the vampire had realized how hard he’d hit or because he liked the feel of Xander’s hair, didn’t really make a difference to Xander since he just enjoyed the touch. He didn’t get hit while being petted. A piece of food appeared in front of Xander, and he reached forward to take the food from Spike’s hand as he’d been trained. He used his tongue to slip the food to the side of his mouth while he sucked on the fingers, licking them and nibbling on them for several seconds before pulling back and chewing his food.
When he swallowed, Spike’s hand was there immediately, and Xander repeated the process, running his tongue down to the first knuckle and sucking before pulling back. The third and fourth and fifth pieces went that way, and on the sixth piece, Xander heard Spike moan. Spike continued to feed him, and Xander continued his careful attention to the fingers that brought him food until finally he swallowed and a piece didn’t appear. Xander waited and in the stillness, he could now hear Spike breathing heavily, and when he risked a quick look, the vampire’s hand was locked on the edge of the table.
“Pet, ya keep doin’ that and I’m goin’ ta find somethin’ else for ya ta put your lips on,” Spike warned, and Xander marveled again at how clueless the vampire could be. That wasn’t an order to stop, and threatening to make a slave perform oral sex wasn’t exactly a threat. Hell, even if it were a threat Xander would follow his training until ordered to stop. It was strange because he was getting the feeling that Spike wouldn’t hold it against him if he stood up and took the chair opposite him at the table, but the very thought of doing anything so outrageous made Xander so frightened that he temporarily lost track of where he was and even lost track of himself, making it seem as if time had jumped and fingers appeared from no where.
Xander reached forward, took the food and tucked it to the side as he continued his ministrations. He knew that the food was nearly gone now, so he wouldn’t mind Spike demanding some payment. A piece of meat appeared, and Xander had only just started his attention to the fingers that fed him when they jerked back and Xander saw movement from the corner of his eye. He quickly chewed and swallowed so his mouth would be empty.
“You want ta play with somethin’, put your lips here,” Spike ordered, and Xander saw that he had pulled his cock out. It’s not like other demons weren’t taking advantage of their slaves in public, and it's not like it mattered whether he approved or not, so Xander slipped under the table and put his lips on Spike’s cock. Then he did what he did when anything touched his mouth, he took it into his mouth and worshiped it. Most of the time, he was just the mouth that some demon pushed into, but Spike was leaning back, so Xander got to really use his skills. He sucked at the head gently, hearing Spike’s breathing roughen and feeling the leg muscles against his arm tighten in pleasure. He increased the pressure, taking more into his mouth a little bit at a time, teasing as much as pleasuring. When he pulled back, he made a guess based on his knowledge of vampires and nibbled the head gently. Spike hissed, and Xander thought he’d made a mistake until Spike spoke.
“Bloody hell, yes. Look up at me, pet.” Xander tilted to look up at Spike’s face even as he licked up the underside, using his tongue to press into the sensitive vein, and now Spike threw his head back, openly panting as Xander took the now dripping cock into his mouth, manipulating the foreskin with his tongue. Spike looked down at him with yellowed eyes, and Xander realized that he was making the vampire lose control. Spike shifted forward in his seat, and Xander braced himself for thrusting. Spike did push forward into him until Xander’s nose was buried in dark blonde curls, and Xander swallowed, watching in fascination as Spike clutched the table and hissed again. Xander waited for Spike to pull out and start thrusting, but about the same time he started getting lightheaded from lack of air it occurred to him Spike had just shifted forward so that Xander would have more room to work.
Hoping that he’d guessed right, Xander pulled back and gasped through his nose as he worked on the head before sliding back down into the curls with a fresh lungful of air. He swallowed again, and suddenly the vampire was coming. Xander held position, pulling back when Spike started to soften, but keeping the cock in his mouth and swallowing as Spike continued to spurt. Finally Spike slumped in the chair, and Xander stopped, knowing how painful it could get to work the cock right after finishing, but Spike had specifically ordered Xander to keep his lips on Spike’s cock and to look up at him, so Xander did just that. He kept his mouth around the softened cock that shrunk until Xander ended up nose deep in curls, and he kept looking up at Spike.
“Good slave there,” suggested a thick rough voice.
“Yeah, wot of it?” Spike demanded, but his voice sounded far more drowsy than threatening. Xander scooted forward a little so that he could more easily hold position between Spike’s legs.
“How much?”
“You’ve got ta be kiddin’.” Xander watched one of Spike’s eyes open and consider the stranger with guarded surprise. Xander only wished he could see the demon making the offer. “I just bought him; not for sale,” Spike snapped wearily.
“All humans for sale. How much?”
“Mate,” Spike said, and now the trademark threat was back in his tone. “I paid $15,000 for him two days ago and I haven’t even had time to enjoy him.”
“I pay $16,000.”
“Let me try this again mate,” Game faced snarl from an aggravated vamp, very scary. “I’m a vamp, we’re possessive, and if ya look at my pet again I’ll break both your legs.” The demon made a rumbling noise and lumbered off before Spike looked down. Xander continued gazing upwards, his mouth around Spike’s now totally soft cock as he breathed air filtered through Spike’s musky hair.
“Now I know you’re not really Xander Harris,” Spike said with a strange strain in his voice. “Droopy Harris would have castrated me by now.” Xander waited patiently as Spike reached down and started running fingers through his hair. Funny thing, Xander remembered feeling so threatened by Spike and so afraid of his own occasional surges of interest in certain males that he probably would have bitten off Spike's cock before performing oral sex in public. Of course Xander Harris didn’t know the real meaning of pain and didn’t understand that sometimes it was better to give up and go along rather than be forced to give up and then punished for not going along.
Xander the slave knew these things all too well, so not only did he wait with his mouth full of Spike, but he enjoyed waiting because Spike had given him an order so he could follow the order and know he wasn’t doing bad. The hand running through his hair didn’t hurt either. Eventually though Spike tapped his head and Xander swung around and went into the Down position with his knees spread, his butt on his heels and his hands resting comfortably. For his trainer, the Down kneel was a rare treat, the formal Position kneel his standard, and Xander would give Spike a blow job a day just to repay that simple change that had given his kneecaps a chance to stop aching.
Spike zipped up and stood up to leave, taking a couple of steps before calling, “heel,” but Xander had already started to rise and follow his Master toward the slave pens.
A dozen times Spike pointed to a spot and ordered, “Down” before going to talk to some slaver in hushed tones. If Xander hadn’t suspected Spike of some sort of scheme before, he certainly did now. At each dealer’s place, Spike would talk to demon after demon without satisfaction, growing increasingly frustrated and then angry and finally just seemingly worn out. By the time they had visited every booth and watched two slave auctions, one of female humans with magical talents and one of female humans with supposed powers as seers, Spike looked much the way Xander remembered him after the chip first went in.
Part of Xander worried that Spike was plotting against the Scoobies; it would certainly explain why Spike didn’t want him to hear. That part of him breathed a sigh of relief at not knowing because he would never be able to break training enough to betray his Master and knowing the plot without being able to warn Buffy would all but kill him. Another part of him worried about Spike, about how much pain the vampire clearly felt over whatever wasn’t going right. The demons he talked to didn’t give him the answer he wanted. Eventually Spike led him back to the concessions area where Spike got a second bowl of water and offered Xander more food even though Xander declined. With much slower steps than in the morning, Spike headed back towards his room, Xander following silently with so many questions in his head that he feared little thought bubbles must be forming over him like in cartoons.
When they reached the room, Xander saw the package waiting outside the door and he didn’t comment as Spike pulled the covered cage into the room.
“Go do your human stuff,” Spike ordered with a wave toward the bathroom, and Xander silently thanked God and his Master that Spike had remembered. He was using the toilet when the voice yelled, “and leave those hip chains in the there. Xander finished, removed the hip chains and walked back out to the bedroom where he went into position next to the bed. He wanted his Master to know that he wouldn’t fight or complain if Spike wished to use him again. Spike didn’t make a move to do anything. He just smoked.
“Time for bed; this whole soddin’ auction’s over tomorrow and we can go bloody home,” Spike finally announced, and Xander heard the fizz of a cigarette being put out. He knelt, waiting for the command, but Spike didn’t give it. Xander knelt by the bed and Spike stood by the cage and the room went silent. Xander finally heard the tap.
“In.” Xander rose and placed his back to the cage before going into the Floor position and working his way back into it. When he felt the rod in back touch his hole, he thought he heard Spike growl, but he couldn’t really come up with a reason considering how the vampire must enjoy the sight of his former captor now so actively participating in his own caging. Xander pressed back until he felt the bars on his butt. Spike quickly slipped on the ankle brackets and then slid loops around Xander’s wrists. Xander hadn’t even realized Spike had fastened the loops because they were so loose, too loose to allow him to truly relax his arms without danger of breaking position.
“So, that all right then?” Spike asked, and Xander tilted between honesty and pleasing his Master.
“No, Master,” he finally answered.
“What, somethin’ wrong?” Xander watched Spike squat down in front of him.
“Yes, Master.” Xander replied.
“Oi, we are not playin’ twenty soddin’ questions,” Spike huffed, and Xander had to mentally laugh at the vampire’s impatience. After all, Xander wasn’t intentionally annoying Spike, that was simply a pleasant side effect of the training. Spike had to actually ask a question that called for a specific answer. “What’s wrong?” Spike finally asked.
“The wrist restraints are too loose, Master,” Xander said cautiously, afraid it might be taken for criticism. Instead Spike reached up and tightened them without comment, holding Xander’s arms tight against the top of the cage.
“Anythin’ else ya need ta say?” Spike asked, the front piece dangling from his hand.
“No, Master. Thank you, Master,” Xander said, taking the liberty of adding the last part even though he didn’t have permission to ad lib. Spike held up the front part, and Xander held position, swallowing as Spike pushed forward far more slowly than his trainer ever had. Eventually, the throat rod was in and Xander’s chin rested on the chin guard. Spike locked the two sides of the front piece and then picked up the cage. Xander expected to be put in the closet, but instead Spike put him on the dresser. After pushing the one big chair into position next to the dresser, Spike perched on the arm of the chair and reached in to pet his hair. Xander watched with curiosity.
“This is the only time you’ll bloody look at me without gettin’ ordered to,” Spike said as though reading Xander’s confusion. Xander certainly enjoyed the feeling of fingers running through his hair with the occasional stroke on his cheek with the back of Spike’s fingers. Xander blinked slowly, truly wanting to close his eyes and enjoy the attention, but too well trained to do so.
“Sometimes when I look in your eyes, I can still see ya. Back at that wanker’s place, I saw your amusement. So, what amused ya more, the shock on my face or the fear on that wanker’s face every time I growled?” Spike asked, and Xander blinked a couple of times before really processing that statement. Spike noticed?
“Ya know, that wanker really is a cowardly little arse. Mind you, a popular cowardly little arse that I don’t dare kill here, but then most bullies are cowards.” Xander looked at Spike and wondered what had happened to his Master: the overbearing, pushy, mouthy, arrogant, hyperactive vampire. The gentle stroking continued even as Spike spoke, so Xander had to assume that Spike wasn’t angry about the fact that he still did the whole thinking thing in his own head. Actually, he probably did more thinking now than before he became a slave because that’s the only thing he could do without permission, and even then he had to make sure his trainer didn’t notice.
“Wanker thinks he broke ya down into an animal, but you’re still bloody in there, aren’t ya? Still remember the night you took me to your basement. Ya stunk of terror, havin’ a Master vampire in your house and havin’ ta invite me in. Don’t think I would have survived if I didn’t have your terror ta keep me feelin’ like a vamp. But even with all that fear, ya still refused to show it.” Spike hand now gently kneaded his neck muscles, and Xander allowed himself to enjoy the touch since he couldn’t move his head or neck even a centimeter with the front rod holding him in place.
“Six bloody months.” Spike’s hand pulled back right before Spike punched the wall. “Ya know the rotten thing?” Spike asked and Xander just blinked in reply. Hello, gagged by a rubber mouth piece with a rod down his throat, not really the time to ask him questions. “Rotten thing is I wasn’t even bloody lookin’ for ya. I figured ya got eaten and figured good for whatever had eaten ya.” Xander just blinked again. Of course Spike hadn’t cared. Hell, he’d been the one to consistently vote ‘kill the vamp,’ so why was Spike doing an Angel angst-a-thon?
“You’re not impressed with my confession,” Spike said as he turned back, but Xander just blinked again. Was Spike talking to himself with Xander providing the excuse, or did the vamp know him well enough to actually guess his thoughts, to understand expressions that Xander thought he had purged from his face? The hand returned to his hair.
“Would’ve wanted ya dead, but I never wanted ya like this. I’ve seen Angelus break people, but even Angelus couldn’t have broken ya like this, pet.” Xander could have told Spike that. Hell, he could even tell Spike the moment when it happened, when he broke and stopped being Xander Harris. It wasn’t worth punching a wall over, though. *He* wasn’t worth punching a wall over, and his life had gotten a whole lot less painful and a whole lot more predictable since he had broken, so he couldn’t even bring himself to regret breaking.
“Bloody well don’t even know what to do with ya like this.” Okay, that got his attention. Xander blinked as he considered that Spike didn’t want him like this. Xander realized with regret that he really didn’t have any other way to be, so Spike could keep him, sell him, or kill him, but he couldn’t ever have back the person who used to be Xander Harris. Not that Spike could have gotten anything out of Xander Harris other than an insult and a stake. Spike stood up with a snort of disgust and flicked the lights off with considerably more effort than the switch required. Realizing that their ‘conversation’ was over, Xander closed his eyes and fell immediately to sleep.
A touch woke him in the morning, and Xander’s eyes flew open. He should have woken at his Master’s first movement, but he had slept until Spike had walked over to pet him. If Xander hadn’t been caged, he would have gone to Floor position over that rule violation, but Spike just continued to pet him, so Xander decided that Spike hadn’t minded. The soft caresses and the fact that he had gotten more sleep than he normally got in three nights left Xander happily sated, and he blinked at Spike, wondering what the vampire thought when he looked at Xander so tightly caged, the bar gagging the very mouth that Spike had threatened to gag at least a hundred times. Xander remembered when his trainer’s minions had dragged him into the training room, dropping his body on the concrete before ripping off the blindfold. Even gagged, Xander had screamed at the sight of a dozen or so humans crated and caged and set on shelves like boxes in a storeroom.
He’d started retching then, the sight of those passive eyes horrifying him more than anything he’d ever seen, more than giant bugs or Angelus’ torture on Giles’ body or even the sight of an inside out swimmer. They’d ripped the gag off, and he’d vomited his last free meal on the floor and himself as he tried to avoid looking at all those slowly blinking eyes. Is that what Spike saw, the horror of it? Of course, in his case most of the horror came from the fact that he knew he was going to be one of those caged bodies, but he’d vowed to fight; he’d vowed that his eyes would always burn with hatred. He’d lied because now he curled relaxed in his cage and enjoyed the feeling of his Master’s hand in his hair as he blinked passive eyes. He didn’t have to do anything: not please or obey or even fight because in the cage there was nothing but accepting.
“Someone woke up in a good mood today,” Spike commented as his hand went from Xander’s hair down to Xander’s shoulder. “Almost hate ta take ya out with that expression on your face.” If Xander hadn’t been gagged by the front piece, he would have offered to stay caged as long as Spike kept petting him. Okay, he wouldn’t have said it, but he would have thought it loudly, and the realization that he felt so strongly about Spike made Xander mentally roll his eyes at himself even as he continued blinking at Spike. Nice. He had to go and get all emotionally tangled up just because Spike hadn’t whipped him or seriously hurt him. God, give Xander a couple of kind pets and he’d follow you anywhere. Of course, he always had been that way, hadn’t he? Cordelia kissed him and he followed her like a puppy. Willow looked his way and he went trotting after her. Anya announced that she wanted orgasms, and yep, there went Xander Harris trotting after the next person to give him attention. And of course this time he was getting himself attached to a creature who didn’t really care back.
Xander had lived with Spike and fought with Spike long enough to know that the vampire had a fear of being alone, so having a slave who couldn’t leave probably appealed to him, but he also knew that Spike got bored with his play toys fairly quickly, so Xander didn’t expect this to be a long-term commitment. He’d be lucky if Spike didn’t lose him in a poker game the first month, but he decided to take all the happy moments he could before that happened, and when happy moments included Spike petting him as he was locked in a cage so small he couldn’t physically move a centimeter, life had really taken a detour.
Spike soon grew tired of the petting and lifted the cage to the floor before pulling out the front piece and releasing the restraints. Xander scooted forward out of the cage and knelt at Spike’s feet as the vampire remained uncharacteristically still.
“So, time for a shower,” Spike finally announced as he turned, and Xander sprang to life, eager to show that he knew how to perform his duties after the disaster that had been yesterday morning.
Chapter 4:
By the time Spike reached the bathroom a minute later, Xander had the shower running at the temperature he knew Spike liked from having lived with him in the basement, a towel draped on the counter and soap and washcloth in his hands as he knelt on the floor of the shower waiting. Spike stood leaning on the doorway, and Xander grabbed furtive looks. He had to admit that Spike had a beautiful body with long lean muscles gathered just under the smooth pale skin. Xander had washed any number of demons, but he rarely liked the body he washed. This time he actually found himself looking forward to his duty.
“Bloody hell. I’m goin’ ta get staked over this, just know it,” Spike complained, and Xander froze, aware that his Master was unhappy but not really sure how to proceed. “Not my soddin’ fault the boy’s trained; be right cruel to leave him kneeling with no way to show his Master what a good little slave he is.” Part of Xander cheered that Spike finally got it, that maybe Spike would give him a chance to do what he was supposed to do. Another part snorted at the vampire’s ability to make excuses. Right, he mentally said in a sarcastic and drawn-out tone. He’d like to see Spike try that line on Buffy, even if it was true. He could imagine Buffy’s face and Giles’ furious glasses cleaning. So, Spike was in danger of being staked, huh? That meant he still worked with Buffy, and maybe Buffy didn’t even know Spike had his chip out. Maybe this was all a big conspiracy where Spike could finally take out the slayer who had bested him over and over.
As Spike stepped in, Xander stood, careful to keep his eyes to the ground as he carefully washed every part of Spike, reaching under to the armpits, sliding his hand between the vampire’s legs, lifting the vampire’s cock. The whole time he amused himself with a fantasy of saving his beautiful slayer at the very point when she realized that Spike had tricked her. She’d cry out for Angel, and then realizing that Angel had abandoned her, she would call for Xander, and he’d appear just in time as Spike bent down to drain her. Of course he knew he wouldn’t do it, if Spike and Buffy actually went at each other he would probably sit in the corner and go quietly mad, but it still made for a nice fantasy, Xander mused as he lifted each of his Master’s feet to carefully wash between toes and on the bottom. When he finished, he noticed that Spike’s cock had become fully engorged, and Xander went into position, his back straight and his mouth only an inch from Spike’s cock as he waited for the order.
And he waited.
…….And he waited.
God, did he have to spell it out for Spike? Why didn’t he just give the order so that Xander could finish washing the Master and then they could get on with whatever Spike had planned. Of course the vampire might want to take Xander on the bed, so maybe that explained the delay. Xander simply waited impassively for Spike’s decision.
“Wish I could bloody ask what you’re thinkin’.” Spike complained, and Xander wondered why the vampire couldn’t. It’s not like Spike had rules to follow. Hell, it’s not like Spike followed rules even when he had rules to follow. There was another silence broken only by the sound of the water hitting the plastic sides of the shower stall.
“Got a new rule for ya,” Spike said, and Xander waited. He hoped the rule wasn’t a hard one; hard rules like never smelling of fear always came with lots of punishment. He would have shivered in dread from that memory, but the lesson about not fidgeting, shivering, shaking or twitching had come even harder. “Any time I get hard looking at that body of yours, you have to get hard too. When I come, you come. You understand?” Spike demanded.
“Yes, Master,” Xander agreed.
“Explain the rule, then.”
“When you are hard from looking at me, I must get hard. When you come, I come.” Xander realized with horror that he was already breaking the rule, so he called up the image of Buffy at the beach in her green bikini, the one he used whenever his trainer ordered him to get hard. Instantly his cock started to swell, and he knew he had done well when Spike’s finger reached down to trace along his jaw.
“Go on then,” Spike ordered, and Xander instantly slid his mouth around Spike’s cock, licking and sucking on the head with great enthusiasm as he used his tongue to push the foreskin back. “Bloody hell, Xan. Never knew you’d be so beautiful on your knees or that your mouth would feel so bloody good around me. If I’d known, I would’ve taken ya when my wanker of a sire offered ya,” Spike remarked before the vampire subsided into groans. Xander tightened his right hand around his left wrist to keep his arms in position, but he could feel his own erection now bobbing, and Xander had never imagined it meant so much for the person he was servicing to give him a compliment. If Spike thought this was good, Xander resolved to show the vampire just how good he could really be.
Xander took a deep breath, and then he slid all the way down on Spike’s cock, swallowing over and over to massage the shaft and head even as he reached with his tongue to tease Spike’s balls. Xander kept the cock in his throat until a need to breathe forced him to pull back. Playing with the head of Spike’s cock and sucking passionately, Xander waited until he felt the cock twitch, and then he drove himself down on it again, swallowing, pulling back, driving down, swallowing, pulling back, and then the expected came, and hands grabbed Xander’s head as Spike drove his cock into Xander’s relaxed throat one, two, three, four times before coming, Xander’s own release came even as Spike’s cock still twitched inside his throat, but eventually Spike pulled back, and Xander gulped the air, finally noticing that he had gripped his left wrist a little too tightly, actually digging his own fingers into the soft underside. He loosened his grip and concentrated on relaxing the muscles that had involuntarily stiffened with his own erection and release.
“Such an obedient pet,” Spike said in a contented voice, and Xander knelt quietly as he tried to separate Spike’s use of “pet” from his trainer’s. His trainer always called him an animal or a pet or just “it,” but he’d heard Spike refer to Drusilla as “pet,” and he’d even caught him calling Willow “pet” once. Then again, he wasn’t Drusilla or Willow, so maybe Spike meant “pet” in the animal sort of way, but he was going to assume it was an affectionate nickname and put it away as one of his happy memories. It seemed like his good memories were almost getting worn out from him having to retreat into them so often. The details fading so that he couldn’t remember Larry’s face or picture Wendell the spider-geek or visualize the park where he would play hide and seek with Jesse and Willow.
He waited until Spike recovered from the orgasm and stretched before standing and picking up the shampoo. He wordlessly slipped behind Spike, ignoring the cocked eyebrow so that he could finish properly by washing his Master’s hair. Xander finished by rinsing his Master and would have followed him out to dry him, but Spike waved him off, So Xander sank to his knees and waited.
“Wash yourself, and take care of your human business, including water. Don’t want ta have ta worry about rememberin’ ta water you every mornin’ so take care of it yourself,” Spike ordered as he roughly dried himself off. Xander stood even while Spike whistled to himself and fixed his hair by touch. Xander tried to keep his eyes down, but he kept looking out of the corner of his eye to make sure he was washing correctly. As often as he washed others, he hadn’t been allowed to touch his own body for so long that he felt somehow disconnected from it. However Spike ignored him utterly, so he soon finished and stepped out to use the toilet. After Spike had left, Xander considered how to deal with the water problem.
He didn’t have a bowl, so he couldn’t drink the way he had been trained, but Xander had an order to follow so he considered his alternatives. The shower would get him wet again and he wanted to be at least somewhat dry when they went out. He could fill the sink and drink properly, but something in his mind told him Spike wouldn’t like that. Spike had called him messy when he drank properly. After a moment’s hesitation, Xander turned on the sink, turned his head sideways and slurped the flowing water the way he had drunk from the hose as a child.
Once he had his fill, he went into the main room, and slid to his knees at his Master’s feet. Spike’s hand immediately went to his hair, but it wasn’t a tap, so Xander kept in the upright Position kneel. Spike’s other hand went to the bedside table and Xander kept his eyes down even as he heard the slide of chain against wood. Had he upset Spike?
“Talked ta your trainer,” Spike announced as if Xander hadn’t been in the corner waiting during the discussion and Xander internally smiled as Spike growled the last word. Externally, Xander waited. His trainer often hobbled him by chaining his feet to his cock so Xander would learn to slow down and take smaller more graceful steps. Maybe his trainer had seen him hurrying after Spike and had suggested a day in hobbles to remind him how to walk. Xander resolved to spend his day being more cautious with his gait although he didn’t really expect to be able to forget with chains reminding him of every step. He waited for the taps that would order him to the floor.
“Plan on ignorin’ most of his rot. When he told me how he’d leave ya in position until you physically couldn’t hold it anymore and then whipped ya for slumpin’, it was all I could do not ta eat the bastard.” Spike snarled, and then he started to mutter angrily, “Makin’ ya think ya deserved it…wanker.” Xander suspected that Spike wanted him to understand that Spike would only punish for real offenses, and Xander did believe that. Angelus was the torturing bastard, and while Spike had always had a reputation for the extreme, it hadn’t escaped Xander’s notice that Spike’s torturing was always done at Angelus’ side and left to himself he quietly ate without the whole torture thing. Xander knew that he deserved whatever Spike gave him, and he only hoped that the vampire hurried up because he was starting to worry about things far worse than hobbles.
“But he made sense when he said I needed ta tell ya why I did things, what pleased me and what didn’t.” Yep, here came the punishment. Xander found himself both resentful of the fact that he knelt at Spike’s feet waiting to be punished like a child and grateful that his trainer had convinced Spike to explain the reasons for the punishment. Xander listened carefully so that he could change his behavior to serve Spike. Spike sat on the bed in silence until the very lack of knowing what was coming started bringing up more and more extreme possibilities in Xander’s mind. Finally Spike took a deep breath.
“Wanker said ya would see me decoratin’ ya as a reward, a way of showin’ that I liked something ya did,” Spike said the words slowly and carefully as though unwilling to even speak the words, and Xander tried to figure out what was bothering Spike.
“Would ya like it if I decorated ya?” Spike finally asked.
“Yes, Master,” Xander agreed, and he would. His trainer would sometimes allow him to wear a decoration for a day to remind Xander of something he had done well. In many ways, it was like being petted all day. He remembered the time that a demon had praised Xander’s ability to bathe and pleasure him. Xander had hated the act, but his trainer had been so pleased at Xander’s ability to perform without reservation that he had fastened two long trailing chains in his hair so that Xander could feel their weight and their cool links running down his back and across his buttocks like a caress. He very much liked being decorated. He was never punished while he wore decorations, and the other slaves would often look at him with envy, just like he envied them when they earned decorations.
“Turn around pet,” Spike ordered. “Hands in front of you.” Xander obeyed and he felt fingers at his collar, hooking something to it. “This is for followin’ me even when I acted like a git and forgot ta give the command,” Spike said, and Xander felt loops of chain settle in on his back, the lowest brushing against his butt and the higher one falling just under his shoulder blades. “This is for this mornin’, the whole soddin’ thing from wakin’ up happy ta you wantin’ ta please me.” Xander kept his eyes down, but he felt the leather cuff around his left arm as Spike tightened the laces in back, allowing the trailing leather tails to brush the back of his arm down to his elbow. “And this is for the water. Knew you’d struggle with what ta do when I didn’t tell ya how ta water yourself, and ya figured out a solution on your own.” Xander felt the second leather cuff tighten around his right arm.
“Stand up, pet.” Xander stood and with every movement he could feel the gentle touches across his back and arms. Even knowing that Spike had to be laughing at him, Xander couldn’t help but smile to himself. When Spike bought him, he’d never expected to survive, and so every moment of pleasure was a treasure he clung to. Even if Spike was evil and chipless, Xander knew he’d follow the vampire anywhere. Cool hands were suddenly at his waist attaching the waist chain low on his hips with the dangling hip chains hanging on the outside of each leg. Since his eyes were lowered, he could see that the chain wasn’t his normal one from last night but a decorated version with black links and small red stones at the end of the hip chains.
“Go ta the mirror in the bathroom and check it out pet,” Spike ordered, so Xander walked into the bathroom and turned his back to the glass. The two loops on his back swooped down from the collar, the small black links dark against his skin which hadn’t seem much sunlight lately. In the middle of each loop, two links hung down with a red teardrop shaped stone hanging at the bottom so that one teardrop rested just above the crease of his butt and one rested on his backbone just above the small of his back where his hands rested when kneeling. The armbands were black with braided laces trailing down, and the new black hip chains swung when he walked, making little flashes of red light dance around the room.
Okay, so he obviously belonged to a vampire now with the whole black and red theme, but Xander loved the feel of them against his skin. He loved what each one meant. He reached up and fingered the cuff on his right arm. He’d earned it by making a decision, and yes it was stupid that the decision had been on how to drink water and yes it was stupid to think that he had momentarily panicked in the face of such unclear orders, and yes it was even more stupid that drinking from the faucet had caused him such nervousness, but he’d earned the cuff doing it, and the cuff wasn’t stupid.
Xander left the bathroom carefully keeping his arms still so that his leather traces and back chains didn’t move at all and his hips slightly swinging to get a pattern going with the hip chains. When he reached the bed, he slipped down into the Floor position.
“Oi, not this again. Just bloody say what you’re thinkin’.”
“Thank you, Master. They’re beautiful.” Xander heard Spike snatch a quick breath and then he felt the tap on his butt pulling him up into the straight backed full kneel.
“You and I are gettin’ in too deep here,” Spike said, and Xander waited. “Pet, look at me.” Xander looked up into clear blue eyes. “Ya really are mine, aren’t ya?” Spike asked, but the answer was so obvious that Xander didn’t think he had to answer. “Right,” Spike suddenly shook off the mood with a twitch of his shoulders as he stood and grabbed his duster.
“Do your cleanin’ and I’ll be back,” Spike left, and Xander noticed that he was alone for the first time in six months. For a moment he remained kneeling, staring at the door, but then he realized that when Spike came back he’d expect Xander’s work to be done. Xander hurried to the corner where Spike had tossed the box of extras from his trainer. Ignoring everything else, Xander grabbed the spray cleaner and paper towels so that he could disinfect his cage and clean the thick pad on the bottom that always got sweaty and dirty. He carefully cleaned the rods, well aware of the damage any breeding bacteria could cause, and when he was finished he snapped the front piece in place and returned the cleaner and unused paper towels before going back to a kneel.
The door soon swung open. “Ya done?” Spike called without looking in.
“Yes, Master.”
“Good, got chores before we leave.” Spike didn’t give any order, but the weight of the chains on his back told him the right thing to do, so Xander rose to follow without waiting for a command.
Spike hurried down the aisle of vendors who were closing down booths and packing up merchandise, both equipment and unsold slaves. Many of the demons now had humans in tow, most held on short leashes, and Xander knew that Spike was showing an incredible amount of faith by allowing Xander to walk without being leashed. Of course that meant that his heavy chain leash banged at his cock when he walked, but that was a small discomfort compared with the pleasure of following without being jerked around by his neck like the little blonde girl being nearly dragged down the aisle by a M'Fashnik demon who didn’t seem willing to let her catch her balance and follow using her own two feet. Spike walked quickly to the back aisle, and Xander hurried behind, careful to walk perfectly because so many dangling decorations would make any flaw in his posture or walk immediately visible.
Spike stopped, and Xander went to his knees, breathing heavy with the effort to keep up without breaking his stride.
“This place should be able to do it,” Spike said as he walked in, and Xander followed, wishing he could look up at the vendor’s sign and secretly cursing Spike’s ability to speak without actually saying anything. His trainer had been right; some people were just plain annoying when they talked, and Spike was running at the top of his list. When Spike walked up to the counter, Xander went back to his knees as a huge scaled demon brought his hand down on the counter.
“What ya need?” he rumbled.
“Get this,” Spike grabbed the heavy chain hanging from Xander’s collar, “off him.” The demon walked around the counter from the sounds of it, and Xander waited patiently while a hooked claw snagged a link on the chain and pulled it taut.
“Easy enough. Five dollars.”
“Done,” Spike said, and then the leash was tightening and pulling, but Spike hadn’t given a command, so Xander resisted the pull and kept position as best as he could. Just when he thought that the demon would either break his neck or pull him over, the pressure stopped.
“He trained to voice?” the demon asked in a tone that was either growling or laughing, Xander couldn’t decide which.
“Wot?” Spike asked.
“Trained to one voice? Is he trained to only follow his owner’s voice or touch?”
“Oh, don’t rightly know. Pet, are you trained to voice?” Spike asked and Xander would have slapped Spike upside the back of the head if he could. Gee, Spike he thought to himself, thanks for asking before the big demon almost pulled my head off. Instead he kept his eyes lowered and his voice soft as he answered.
“Yes, Master.” No duh, Master. What? Did you think I just wanted a quick game of tug of war, Master?
“Right,” Spike said knowingly. “Follow the demon then, pet.”
“Yes, Master.” Xander rose and stepped up next to the demon as the demon definitely laughed and took him to a machine near the back of the shop. When the demon stopped, Xander went into his kneel.
“This cuts the chain, cub. It won’t hurt you, but if you fight, it may cut you. Do I need to tie you so you don’t get cut?”
“No, sir,” Xander answered as he waited for the grinder to cut the chain. Soon, Xander had little tiny burn marks on his chest from the machine throwing off bits of metal during the cutting, but the heavy chain was gone. The demon led him back and as soon as they got near Spike, Xander left the demon’s side and returned to kneel at Spike’s feet.
“Thanks, mate,” Spike said and rustling paper suggested that money had changed hands. “So, ya ready to go home, pet?” Spike asked, and Xander froze for just a half second before rising to follow Spike who had started out the door.
“Pet?” Spike stopped and asked, and Xander went back to his knees wishing that the vampire would make up his mind about whether or not they were leaving. But he waited patiently for for Spike to ask a question the he could actually answer.
“Did somethin’ bother ya?” Spike asked.
“Yes, Master,” Xander replied, wondering how long it would take for Spike to stop falling into that trap. Suddenly Xander realized that he was thinking this way about his Master, a Master who had shown him a lot of kindness. Xander told himself to stop with the snark thoughts. If he couldn’t control his thoughts and if he became disobedient, he had no doubt that Spike would get his money back out of Xander’s hide, decorations or no decorations. Luckily his Master still had some patience.
“Pet, what is bothering you?”
Xander stopped and thought about a way to explain it. “I’m afraid of going outside,” he said.
“Why?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to run,” Xander replied knowing that his trainer would have whipped him until his back bled for a comment like that. He hoped Spike wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t blame him if he did.
“Do you want to run?” Spike asked, but then cancelled his question almost immediately. “No, never mind. We’ve been down this path before and already established that you don’t want things.” Spike stood silent for several seconds, Xander wondering if the vampire was coming up with punishments or if Spike would put him in his cage until they reached Spike’s home. That’s how he’d been brought to the sale, stacked in a pile with a dozen others, their cages tied one on top of another and a tarp thrown over them before they’d been hauled here by truck.
“Pet, tell me why you might run,” Spike finally settled on.
“I should run; it’s what I would have done before,” Xander said, and he desperately wanted to defend himself from what was a very damning statement, but he held his tongue and if Spike decided to punish him, he would accept it for saying something so terrible.
“But that’s not all,” Spike guessed. After a few seconds of hesitation, Spike ordered, “Tell me why you might not run.” Xander realized that the vampire was giving him a chance to explain himself.
“I feel safe with you and want to stay with you, Master,” Xander honestly replied, and boy wasn’t that just sweet. He had officially just lost his Scooby card he realized.
“So ya want ta stay, but ya feel guilty that ya don’t want ta fight,” Spike summarized, and Xander realized that Spike did understand. Spike turned and re-entered the store, and Xander hurried to his side, kneeling again as the big demon came up to them.
“Heard him,” the demon said without apology or shame. “He’s a good animal.” Xander decided that even if his biology teacher had explained in detail why humans were animals, he was really tired of hearing it.
“Yeah,” Spike’s hand dropped to Xander’s head, and Xander enjoyed the feeling of Spike’s touch, especially after he’d said something terrible enough to earn punishment. “So, I need somethin’ ta help him with this guilt problem. I’m thinking hobbles, somethin’ ta slow him down in either black or red.” Xander internally groaned that his fear from this morning was coming true, but he had told the truth, and he could certainly survive a day or two hobbled. The heavy demon shifted from place to place and Spike took a step forward to lean on the counter, so Xander knee walked to keep himself at Spike’s side. After a few minutes, the demon dragged back and Xander heard a number of things clinking and thudding on the counter.
“This is a nice model, the rod on the bottom makes walking possible but uncomfortable.”
“Not practical. Don’t want bruising on the bottom of the foot.”
“This then?”
“Mate, that’s bloody ugly. Don’t want that on my slave. How’s this one work?”
“Oh, a lovely model. This loop goes over the animal’s genitals so that each step can produce either a little or a lot of pulling on the cock and balls. It keeps them walking slowly and carefully.”
“Yeah, and one trip and you’ve just lost any chance of breedin’ ‘em. I’ve been around my pet long enough that I don’t trust him not to trip.” Xander would have complained about that if he’d been asked. In six months he’d learned to keep track of his body in ways that he’d never even considered, and he no longer tripped through cemeteries staking vampires by falling on them. Of course he’d actually only done that once, so he’d never known why Spike had insisted on telling that story to every demon in Sunnydale.
“This just restricts movement without changing their pace.”
“Attaches to the legs?”
“It would be a lovely addition to his other chains. Very decorative.” Xander really just wanted to point out that he wasn’t a Christmas tree or a dog or a living doll to be dressed up, but since he wasn’t supposed to have wants anymore he amused himself dressing up Spike’s naked body in some of the chains he’d seen on the various slaves walking the mall. Yep, he could imagine Spike looking pretty good in those outfits, and what the hell was he doing mentally playing with a naked Spike. He played with naked Buffy, not naked Spike. Luckily an order cut that little panic attack off.
“Stand up,” Spike ordered, and Xander obeyed as Spike knelt down and attached black cuffs to his legs just above the knees and to his ankles. He could feel Spike adjusting the size with some sort of inner strap before each cuff made an audible click. The black chains ran from knee to knee and from ankle to ankle with decorative chains running down the inside of his legs. Oh yeah, the vampire was having way too much fun playing dress up. Spike gave Xander a slap on the butt and Xander folded into the Position kneel with his knees apart and the chains were perfectly taut.
“We’ll take ‘em,” Spike said and more money changed hands as Xander realized that his concern about running had been solved. He could take normal steps, but he certainly couldn’t run he decided as he followed Spike out the door, carefully keeping his hip chains flowing even as he tried to keep his step short enough to not strain his hobble chains and remain totally still in his upper body so that his back chains and cuff traces didn’t move and who the hell ever thought walking could require so much concentration? Spike must have ordered someone to clean out the room because they headed right out of the quickly closing mall and into the crowded parking lot. For the first time in six months, Xander saw stars and a sliver moon and the distant lights of the city and oh my freaking god he was naked and chained and walking like a harem boy in heat in the middle of a fricken city. Xander took that moment of panic and reminded himself that he didn’t really have a choice. He was Spike’s slave so he couldn’t get in trouble for anything other than displeasing Spike. So, public nudity laws and public humiliation be damned, he was following his Master.
Xander almost laughed when Spike led his $15,000 slave with the expensive decorations to the same old DeSoto with half-painted windows. Spike opened the front passenger door, and Xander considered his options. The hobble kept him from getting in normally, not that he had the nerve to sit in a chair anyway, so he went in head first and used his hands to pull himself into a very messy kneel on the passenger side seat. By the time Spike walked around, Xander had settled himself on the floor kneeling with his back to the dash and his eyes focused on the passenger seat.
“So, you ready to go see Joyce?” Spike asked cheerfully as he got in, but Xander recognized that the question was purely rhetorical, and really he wished it wasn’t because…Joyce?? Spike was taking him to see Joyce?? What about Buffy and Giles and Willow, any of them might be at least somewhat prepared for a brainwashed and totally nut-case type Xander, but Joyce? Personally, Xander didn’t really want any woman to see him chained and sitting at Spike’s feet, so his silent vote had gone to Giles. The man could keep a secret like nobody’s business and he could just imagine the look on Giles’ face when Spike showed up with an obedient Xander at heel. That would make the embarrassment actually worth it. But Joyce? Why the hell would Spike go to Joyce?
As Spike started the car, punk music started and Xander realized that he wasn’t going to get any answers so he would just have to wait and find out when they got there. He tried tucking his hands behind his back, but he really couldn’t with the dash, so he tried pulling them in front to rest on his thighs, but they were uncomfortably jammed against the seat. Xander exhausted his limited options for what to do with his hands in a Down kneel when Spike in the middle of his lyrics called out “Floor.”
Xander tried to find a way of getting his head to the floor, but then he realized what Spike meant. He leaned his body against the seat in front of him and put his head down on it since it was as close to the floor as he could get in close quarters. Now he could tuck his hands behind his back and enjoy the feeling of the delicate back chains pressed between his arm and back. Joyce. He did wonder what the hell the rest of them had gotten up to while he’d had his little vacation from the hell mouth. He just hoped for Joyce’s sake that she wasn’t a shy woman because he’d hate to embarrass Buffy’s mom.
Chapter 5:
The comfortable position and the vibration of the car quickly put Xander into a half-sleep state where he stayed awake only enough to hold position and keep an ear open for commands. He didn’t even move when Spike reached into the back seat and pulled a blanket up, tossing into over Xander’s body, and soon Xander understood why as they entered more heavily trafficked areas.
He listened to the sound of traffic, his forehead on the seat, and tried to guess what type of car made each sound. It was strange the things he had never noticed before that he only now appreciated after being away. He’d always thought of traffic as one noise, but now he found himself enthralled by how many different sounds cars could make.
“Ya all right, pet?” Spike asked when the music stopped, and Xander felt the car swerve as the vampire pushed a pile of CD’s around in the corner of his vision.
“Yes, Master.” Before Xander would have kept position and waited, but the chains at his back comforted him, and so he pushed himself up enough to reach out for the cases that had slid away, landing on the floor or on his side of the car. One by one he returned them to the pile by his Master’s hand until he went to put one with a blue cover down.
“Yeah, that’s the one pet, put it in,” Spike ordered, and Xander opened the case, remembering the feel of the plastic popping under his fingers as he had opened his own music. A beat up DeSoto with a top of the line CD player. Why wasn’t he surprised? Xander hit the eject disc button and “No Disc” flashed right before he put the disc in and settled back into position, careful to keep the blanket over his body since the half-painted windows still could allow someone to see enough to call the police and cause trouble.
“Pet?” Spike asked, and Xander waited for a question that actually asked something. It took a couple of seconds for Spike to sigh and start again. “Pet, why don’t you look at me?”
“It’s against the rules, Master,” Xander said calmly—it’s not like he was the stupid one who kept asking essentially the same question over and over. Spike must have turned off the CD player though, so Xander suspected he wanted to have a talk.
“Pet, look at me,” Spike ordered, and Xander turned his head so that his cheek instead of his forehead rested on the bench.
“Can ya change the rules?” Spike asked.
“No, Master.” Xander knew that he had answered the question technically correct, but he also knew that’s not what Spike wanted to know. He struggled with a way to overcome that, but finally decided that some things Spike was going to have to figure out on his own. He just hoped Spike figured it out before getting frustrated enough to sell him.
“But ya changed the rule about staying in heel,” Spike argued, and Xander just blinked up at his Master wishing he knew how to spell ‘idiot’ in Morse code. Maybe then he could blink it at his Master. Maybe that thought somehow inspired Spike because he suddenly swore and rolled his eyes even as he sent the car swerving again.
“*I* changed the rule about staying in heel,” Spike amended himself and Xander waited for the other piece to now click.
“So, *I* can change rules. Right?”
“Yes, Master.”
“You do know how soddin’ annoyin’ that is, right pet?”
“Yes, Master.” Xander smiled inside even as Spike gave a growl and tugged on a lock of hair, a gesture that was quickly becoming one the vampire’s favorites.
“Okay, what if I order you to talk whenever you want?” Spike asked and then held up a hand to hold off Xander’s response. “No, I’ve been down the bloody ‘want’ road before and I’m not goin’ through that aggravation again. Okay, what if I order you to say what you’re thinking?” Xander stopped breathing for a second, panic nearly overcoming training.
“I would obey, Master,” he said truthfully even while his stomach knotted.
“Okay, I order ya ta always say what ya think,” Spike said triumphantly before looking down into his eyes. Xander moved his gaze to Spike’s leg.
“I think Master is cruel for taking away the one thing that I still have left for myself and it scares me, but I won’t argue because it’s my place to accept Master’s orders. I shouldn’t want to keep things for myself, and I know I earned punishment for thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking,” Xander whispered, as close to crying as he’d been I in a long time.
“Bloody hell,” Spike swore. “I just keep bollocking this up. Xander, I order you to ignore that last order,” Spike said, and Xander started to breathe more easily. “Not what I had in mind, pet.” Xander moved his gaze back up and Spike was pursing his lips.
“I’m just afraid you’re one step from bein’ as loopy as Dru,” Spike finally announced. “Know what I mean?”
“Yes, Master.”
“So, are ya?” Spike asked, and Xander had to really think about that one.
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so most days,” Xander explained.
“But some days ya are, like the day I made ya sleep in the closet,” Spike said with another purse of his lips. “Okay, the last order didn’t work so well, so let me try this one. When I ask ya what ya need, not what ya bloody want but what ya need, ya have to tell me what you need to keep from going off that cliff ta the loony bin. That work for you?”
“Yes, Master,” Xander answered, actually grateful for this order. He didn’t have to explain what he wanted, just whatever he needed to not annoy his Master by going totally and irreversibly nuts.
“So, pet. What do you need?” Spike asked, and Xander took his time considering all the possible answers. He shoved a dozen different ideas over into the want column: going back to the man he used to be, erasing the last six months, undoing the whole mentally playing with naked Spike, finding out Buffy had a Dom kink and wanted to keep him, finding himself suddenly able to just stand up talk to someone, feeling safe when he wasn’t at someone’s feet. He took each item and shoved it back into the part of his mind where non-slave thoughts went. When he really thought about it though, there was only one item in the need column, so he finally gave Spike an answer that part of him really didn’t want to admit even to himself, but Master had asked.
“I need a Master,” Xander admitted, knowing it was true but nearly flinching at saying it out loud and making it real. A hand immediately started smoothing his hair away from his face and tracing the edge of his cheek.
“Is it all right if that Master cocks everythin’ up from time ta time?” Spike asked.
“Yes, Master,” Xander answered truthfully, and Spike actually smiled. For the rest of the trip Xander watched his Master alternately swearing at other drivers and singing along with punk music even as he gently petted Xander nearly to sleep. The drive took hours, but eventually the roads grew quieter and the cars fewer. Spike reached over and flicked off the CD player with one hand and pulled out a cell phone with the other while the car was temporarily left to guide itself. Xander found himself grateful for the deeply ingrained habit of accepting anything from his Master without question because otherwise he would have to say something about Spike’s total and complete inability to drive a car.
“We’re right down the street,” Spike announced into the phone without any niceties.
“Yeah,” he answered the voice on the phone before pausing to listen to a long speech on the other end.
“Know that luv. Goin’ ta worry about that later,” Spike finally replied.
“Yeah, well unless you’re up for the peep show, you might want ta give us a clear shot from the garage to the bedroom.” Ah, Xander figured that Spike was talking to Joyce since the vampire had said that’s who they were going to see first. Spike’s voice suddenly grew irritated with whatever Joyce was saying.
“Bloody hell, I soddin’ well never said that. Nice ta know what ya think of me,” Spike snarled, but he actually sounded more hurt than angry.
“About five minutes or so,” Spike said and then snapped the phone shut without even a goodbye. Wow, Spike seriously needed to learn phone manners, Xander thought as the car slowed slightly before making a series of turns onto residential streets. Eventually the car turned and stopped before Spike turned and started digging through the stuff in the backseat, swearing steadily. He finally sat up with a garage door opener in his hand as he opened the garage and pulled in before closing the door behind them. Curiouser and curiouser Xander thought to himself as he watched. Spike not only had an invite but a garage door opener. Spike opened the door and walked around to open Xander’s before helping Xander out of the car by basically lifting him out. Xander didn’t mind the hobbles, but they did make graceful exits from a car difficult.
Xander stood patiently as Spike loaded his arms with a cage, a box of various gear in the cage, and a couple of blankets that smelled of smoke and stale air. Spike grabbed a bag and then slammed the doors.
“Well, let’s get settled in, pet,” Spike suggested as he opened the door and walked into an unfamiliar kitchen. Xander followed, struggling a little on the steps but able to navigate with caution. In the bedroom, Spike waved toward a corner and Xander put his armload on the floor, pulling everything out of the cage and setting it beside it before going to a kneel.
“Best if we didn’t dangle the bits in front of Joyce,” Spike pointed out like Xander hadn’t thought of that. Xander internally rolled his eyes. “So, hobbles off and pants on would be the first order of business. Stand up, then.” Xander stood and stepped into the middle of the room. Within a minute, Spike had stripped the hobbles and handed him a pair of silky black pants that fell somewhere between slacks and expensive pajama bottoms.
“Clean the hobbles before ya put ‘em with the other stuff,” Spike ordered as Xander pulled on the pants and went back to kneel. He watched as Spike picked up a shirt, looked at it and then tossed it back on the bed with a shrug. He guessed that was his way of deciding that Joyce was going to have harder things to deal with than his chains, and in a way, Xander was glad he got to keep his decorations. Of course, in another way he was horrified and terrified that Joyce was going to see him like this, but he thought as he mentally shrugged, there really wasn’t anything that he could do to change who he had become.
Their unpacking done, Spike opened the door and bellowed down the hall. “We’ll be down in a minute luv. Got all his bits covered and we’re just makin’ a pit stop.” Spike walked out of the room, and Xander rose and followed. “Right, human stuff,” Spike said as he gestured toward a door, and Xander went into the bathroom amused that a vampire that could torture with railroad spikes would get so obviously bothered by bodily functions he had once performed. When he’d finished, Xander walked out and found Spike leaning against the wall. Before he had time to kneel, Spike headed down the steps with Xander at heel.
Xander took a deep breath and prepared to watch his old life and his new one collide.
“Oh thank heavens. He’d been gone so long that I couldn’t believe you’d found him.” Xander heard Joyce’s voice, and a wave of relief washed through him. Until now it didn’t feel real, but now he knew he was home. Spike went to the couch, and Xander knelt by his Master’s side, going straight into the Down position since Spike seemed to prefer that to the formal Position kneel. Instead of placing his hands at his knees, he tucked them behind him so he could feel his back chain and remind himself that he didn’t have to fear his trainer’s rules.
“Is he all right?” Joyce asked.
“He’s fine. Just a bit different.” Xander would have snorted at that given half a chance, and the way Spike’s knee nudged him in the arm, he suspected Spike knew it.
“Are you sure I can’t, you know, talk to him?”
“Not really a good idea, luv. He’s had a hard time and might take a while ta get it all figured out in his head.” Ah, so Spike wasn’t going to let Joyce talk to him; that solved a couple of problems. Ever since Spike parked the car he’d lived in dread Spike telling him to mind Joyce only to have her ask some really stupid question like “What happened?” Not only did Xander not want to relive those memories, he really didn’t think Joyce honestly wanted to know.
“Xander, tell Joyce what you’re thinkin’ right now.” Xander mentally groaned, but he obeyed.
“I am hoping you won’t tell me to mind Joyce, Master. I’m afraid she’ll ask me what happened and she wouldn’t like the answer.” The room was silent for a moment.
“Told ya he was still bloody in there. Just had his pieces rearranged a bit.”
“Oh god, he must have been so upset when you told…” Joyce cut off suddenly, obviously some gesture of Spike’s that he couldn’t see with his head down, but the words sent cold fear running through his back. What would he be upset about? What was going on? Where was everyone else? Were they trying to give him space or had something happened?
“Bloody hell, have ta tell him now,” Spike sighed unhappily. Xander resisted the urge to stand up and beat Spike about the head until he started talking. Spike took a deep breath only to not talk for several minutes, and Xander waited in increasing agony.
“Was at the auction lookin’ for Red and Glinda.” Spike said, and Xander felt his stomach curl. They were there? They were slaves? “Told Buffy I’d look for ‘em, and when I saw ya and bought ya, I was afraid you’d open your mouth and tell those gits I worked with the Slayer.” Spike’s voice caught, and Xander could just imagine how difficult it must be for Spike to work with a slayer, so he understood the fact that Spike didn’t want other demons to know. Of course, the whole chip thing still confused him, but maybe Spike would be kind enough to explain before his slave started beating him.
“The Initiative got out of control,” Joyce picked up the story. “Some project took out a lot of the soldiers, and the army sent in teams headed by this new general. We thought they were on our side, but after they shut down this project, the new general started picking up anyone who wasn’t totally human.” Oh god, Xander didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t actually have any friends who were totally normally human. Hell, he wasn’t totally normally human with his soldier and his hyena memories filtering everything. Joyce had stopped now and Xander felt Spike lean against him as he reached over toward her. Xander sneaked a look to find Spike’s hand wrapped around Joyce’s.
“They got me at the Watchers,” Spike now picked up. “Figured I was safe enough there, but they came ta pick up a warlock and got a vampire as a bonus. They got the witches at the store, and tried ta get Anya, but that bint had tricks up her tricks. She took out a van load with some pre-prepared spell and hit the road.” Xander would have smiled at that. His Anya never did let a little thing like common morals or van loads of soldiers get in her way. When he’d finally admitted to her that he loved Buffy and couldn’t hurt her by lying, she’d just dyed her hair blonde and told him that he could love Buffy until he died as long as he didn’t put his penis in Buffy.
“Wankers got a kick out of seeing a vamp work with the slayer, so they had a clever idea and turned off my chip before tossin’ me in with her.” Xander immediately went still. “But I wasn’t goin’ ta kill on their say-so. Told her she had rotten taste in men and made her move over since she was sitting on the only bunk. Xander felt like his heart restarted as his fears proved groundless.
“Eventually the boy toys managed to rile the local demons and they staged a bit of a coup. Got Giles out, not that the wanker appreciates it. Yeah, I’ll tell ya that story later, but let’s leave it at I wouldn’t trust him at my back with a bit of wood.” Spike snorted at his own joke, and Xander waited, fighting down the urge to just demand information.
“He’s so quiet,” Joyce commented. Xander felt a hand at his hair and he just wished Joyce could hear the various questions and curses in his head.
“Yeah, but inside he’s ready ta kill us for not spittin’ it out,” Spike commented with a tug to Xander’s hair. “So by the time I got Giles out of the middle of it, I went back for the witches and they were gone. Some of the demons grabbed the humans and the human half-breeds for themselves. Promised Buffy I’d take care of them, so I will, and I’ll snap the neck of whatever took ‘em.” Xander had trouble breathing at the thought of Willow and Tara going through what he’d endured. Yes, he survived it, but they shouldn’t have to.
“Vamps don’t normally go in for the slave trade, being more the eat and run type demons, so gettin’ an invite was hard, and when I found ya, all I could think was makin’ sure you didn’t make me look so bad I never got into another sale.” Spike’s hand stopped moving, and Xander felt his head tilted back by fingers pulling his hair. He turned his face up to his Master’s and Spike had a serious expression on his face. “Ya made me look soddin’ good—like a regular slave master with his well trained and decorated slave trailing after him. I’ll find doors open now, ‘cause of you, and we’ll find the witches, Xander. We’ll find them and bring them home.” Xander found as he looked into those blue eyes that he couldn’t believe anything else. Spike and Buffy wouldn’t let the girls down, and Xander felt something that came close to pride that he’d helped Spike even unintentionally. The fingers released his hair and he returned to proper form. He hadn’t felt pride over anything more important than swinging hip chains for so long that he didn’t even know how to handle the emotion, so he focused on the need to bring his girls home.
“William, finish the story,” Joyce ordered, and Spike’s hand began to pet him again.
“Yeah, I’m gettin’ there,” he answered defensively. “Buffy and me, the soldiers didn’t get it. They’d send in all sorts of baddies against us and we got ta be good. She was a soddin’ fierce little fighter and always as ready with an insult as a punch. We had a real pattern goin’ and I discovered that when ya got the girl away from college boys and television she was someone I could respect.” Xander almost smiled at the thought of them together, and then his stomach knotted again at the thought of them together. Oh god, that explained why they were at Buffy’s.
Xander felt horror creep up his body as he realized he would be kneeling at Spike’s feet while Spike got to touch Buffy. The thought of being caged and sitting on the dresser while they had sex nearly made his mental shudder a physical one, and Xander struggled to hold on to the fact that he was a slave and he didn’t have a choice. If his Master chose to have him there, he would be there and keep to his training and make his Master look so good that he would get invited to all the sales so they could bring Willow and Tara home.
“Pet,” Xander heard the sadness in his Master’s voice, and he tried to hold on to the belief that had been growing in him that Spike cared something for him. Spike was good to him, so maybe Spike was good to Buffy too. “Pet, they sent in demon after demon. Never gave us a chance ta rest up or feed up; never turned off the lights that made sleepin’ so hard. Slayer had a touch of demon in her bein’ the slayer and all, but she was human and she couldn’t keep going.” Xander’s mind tried to process the information and he continued to reject the picture growing in his head. No, no it wasn’t possible.
“It was a Durslar. He opened her stomach before I had a chance ta do anythin’. She died quick, but I promised her I’d take care of the witches. I owed her that much.” Xander started trembling, not in mind, but in his actual body. He stumbled to his feet, unsteady and unsure what he was even doing, blind in his grief. Buffy dead. Willow and Tara lost and somehow he couldn’t imagine finding them without Buffy and Giles to lead the charge. He stumbled back a step as he found himself swaying in indecision.
“Down.” Xander heard the command and reacted without thought as he fell into position, but then some part of his brain rebelled, forcing him half way to his feet when suddenly he felt as if his mind simply disconnected and he could tell he was falling without actually feeling himself hit the side of Joyce’s couch.
“Pet, down!” The voice demanded, a rap on his head reinforcing the order and Xander’s limbs rearranged themselves without Xander’s participation. He couldn’t survive this—he really couldn’t. For six months he’d lived, he’d held on and fought and he’d kept some small part of his soul because that part had belonged to Buffy. He’d hidden in the memories of the times he’d saved her or she’d saved him. He’d disappeared in his fantasies of surviving only to appear when she most needed him or of her rushing in to kill the demons who had taken him. He thought he had given up hope, but hearing of her death made him realize he had only buried it, and now it was dying. He’d suffered so much that he sometimes couldn’t keep memory and fantasy and reality apart, and now her death somehow threatened all three of them.
He felt strong hands at his shoulders, and he knew he was too late to save her and she would never save him. He opened his mouth to say something, and he found he couldn’t remember how to breathe. He gaped open-mouthed until he felt himself pulled into a lap, a voice he couldn’t resist ordering him to take deep breaths. Then that other part of himself slipped in a thought—the thought that Spike had been there and Spike had held her and Spike had watched her die and Spike had survived after letting her die.
Xander pushed away, pulling up his arm to punch the one who had failed Buffy. It wasn’t his fault he’d walked home after dark unwilling to call for an escort. It wasn’t his fault that his damn stupid ego took him away when she needed him. It was Spike’s fault for not protecting her, but as Xander pulled back his arm, he felt chains slip across his back and he knew he’d failed his Master, dropping his head to the floor and kneeling before his Master as he braced for punishment. All he could hear was the crooning voice shushing him.
“Spike,” Xander whispered. “Master.”
“I’m here, pet. Tell me what ya need.” Xander started to rise only to fall back into a Floor kneel.
“I…” Xander stumbled, “don’t know,” he finally admitted weakly. The only things that would fix this pain were beyond anyone’s reach, even his Master’s.
“I know what ya need; it’s okay, pet.”
Xander felt himself lifted and carried up the stairs, now helplessly out of control, shaking and struggling to regain his self-discipline as his panic at disobeying now vied with his agony at how much he had lost. As long as he had been in his trainer’s care, the Scoobies had existed for him, and now he lost even that illusion. And he hadn’t even lost her to some heroic and destined fight, just a bunch of bigots.
Xander felt himself lowered and hands at his waistband as he struggled to get back to his knees.
“Spread,” the voice commanded, and Xander rolled to his stomach, his arms moving away from his body and his fingers spreading. Hands pulled on his pants, sliding them down his legs and preventing him from going into proper position, but as soon as the fabric cleared his feet, he spread his legs allowing himself to focus on the coming punishment instead of the pain of loss. Hands unhooked his back chains, and Xander worked at holding the perfect position, just focus on holding the perfect position and the punishment wouldn’t last as long. After the cool weight of the chains disappeared, he felt the band around first one arm and then the other loosen before they were slipped down and past his hands, the leather forcing his fingers slightly closer together before pulling free and allowing Xander to return to correct form. Xander heard a metallic click.
“In,” the voice commanded and Xander tried, his body suddenly disjointed, his knees unable to hold his weight. He felt hands at his hips moving him into position, and Xander started sliding back into the cage because the cage was the one thing he couldn’t fight. The case was acceptance. He wiggled backwards, impaling himself without thought and when he felt the ankle bracket trap him in place, he started breathing. Accept—that’s all he had to do. He didn’t make choices; he didn’t have choices; he couldn’t choose wrong. The wrist strap pulled his arms to the top of the cage and then Xander noticed Spike sitting cross legged in front of the cage.
“Who am I pet?” Spike asked in such a serious tone that for a space of a blink Xander honestly believed the vampire didn’t know.
“My Master,” Xander answered quietly. The pain flowed through him like ocean waves cresting and slamming into his soul, but he just had to accept, nothing else was expected.
“Do I need to put the front on?” Spike asked, holding out the t-shaped bar. Xander thought about how much he wanted to scream and cry and swear at Spike and how much he feared making any noise at all. He looked right at Spike as he answered.
“Yes, Master.” Spike brought the bar up as Xander opened his mouth feeling the familiar metal slip into place before the plastic pieces slipped under his top teeth and his jaw. Spike locked the crossbar with a familiar click, and Xander finally let the tears slide down his face. He had hoped for privacy, but Spike sat down leaning against the cage so that Xander felt the familiar leather at his fingertips. Acceptance. He only had to accept.
“She cried for ya, cried more nights than I can count. She used ta show up at the Watcher’s smellin’ all salty.” Spike’s voice had dropped into a half whisper, and Xander let the words wash in, the pain of reality replacing the pain of his lost fantasies. Xander felt a hand brush his hair out of his eyes and wipe his damp cheeks in an oddly maternal gesture. “Red too. Girl wore herself out lookin’ up more locator spells until the Watcher finally took her aside and told her it was hopeless.” Xander allowed a fresh set of tears to flow as he directly broke the rules by reaching through the top bars to clutch at the tiny fragment of Spike’s coat that he could reach.
“They loved ya, and we’re goin to bring Red and Glinda home, pet. We’ll give Buffy her last wish,” the voice continued, but Xander retreated until the voice became a distant comforting droning. Normally Xander withdrew into some happy memory: Buffy’s green bikini or the day they’d faced down hell and graduated: two events Xander never expected to see. Now Xander sought pain, memories of pain strong enough to make him forget the current agony.
He remembered the cold concrete crushing the skin of his kneecaps, the pain of the drying and shrinking leather strings tied around the various parts his body, the incessant itch on his right thigh where the first tie had been placed before Xander had figured out the game, and his Position kneel left him staring at the purpling skin so swollen that the shrinking leather had cut through flesh and muscle, yellow and red trails down his leg, the fluid oozing down and slipping into dozens gouges caused by strings on that leg, some dry and embedded in his flesh, others still wet and simply denting the skin. He remembered the agony of his hand, the finger that had flipped off his trainer cut to the bone by a band of dry leather, the finger black and immobile and smelling of rot, the whole hand mottled and dying from the string at the wrist. He remembered the blood he slipped in as he tried to move from one position to another at his trainer’s command. Not his blood but hers. He remembered going to the Spread position, his forehead sticking to the ground, his eyes trying to not see her twisted form. He remembered, and still the memory couldn’t completely erase the thought of Buffy with her stomach torn open while those bastards watched. He fell asleep and dreamed of soldier’s faces on a torn body as he knelt in military blood. He fell asleep and dreamed of soldier’s faces as they faced his trainer’s leather strings. He fell asleep and dreamed of seeing Riley’s face staring at him from his own cage. He fell asleep still hearing his Master’s voice drone on softly.
Chapter 6:
“Oh my.” Xander woke at the softly spoken words, but he had no response to Joyce’s obvious horror since he was still caged. God, how much did the woman have to suffer, he wondered. She had lost her daughter, obviously taken in an emotionally unbalanced vampire, and now she had the nutcase in the cage to deal with. Of course, this is a woman who once threw a party attended by more dead people than live ones, so maybe seeing him in a cage wasn’t that big of a deal. He really couldn’t bring himself to believe it considering the expression on her face. He felt a stirring around his cage and he realized that Spike had fallen asleep lying on the cage.
“Oi, don’t start,” Spike said even as Joyce handed him a mug of something.
“I said I wouldn’t be judgmental of him, and I won’t be. My disapproval is aimed entirely at you, William.” Joyce’s mildly indignant tone reminded him of the way she used to scold Buffy for sending a demon though the living room window with no more vigor than other mothers complained about a scratch on the car. Xander felt another wave of pain, but this time just one more surge in the grief that was his life. The flood waves had passed.
“Bloody hell, it’s too damn early for this. Sun’s still up, innit?” From the sound, Xander could tell Spike was pushing himself up and he missed the feel of leather brushing against his fingers. He had expected Spike to free him, but instead the vampire lifted him up to the top of the dresser so that he was now chest high to them and he could more clearly see Joyce’s dismay. Yep, leave it to Xander to bring joy and happiness into others’ lives, he thought to himself.
“I don’t really care about the sun considering Xander is stuffed in that cage like a contortionist.” Joyce stood there looking so much like one of those perfect T.V. moms who always knew when the kids stole the cookies, that Xander found himself wishing he had been her son. Of course that would have made the whole Buffy thing really ew, and Xander felt another surge of pain. Buffy never had brothers or sisters, and now she would never have sons or daughters. She had been the slayer, and now that she was dead, another slayer got called and the council moved on. There was nothing left of her but a group of pathetic people looking to each other for some sort of comfort. He could see that in the way Joyce used her best mother voice on the vampire.
“Ya saw him last night, so ya know soddin’ well I had to do somethin’.”
“And ‘something’ included torturing him after everything he’s been through?”
“Not bloody torturing him.”
“Looks like torture to me.”
“Torture involves more screamin’ and beggin’.” Spike’s voice had an odd echo, and Xander imagined he was talking while drinking his blood.
“Hard to scream gagged like that.”
Xander listened to the argument slightly shocked. He’s always figured that if Spike got the chip out, he’d take a nice long trip to the sunniest place he could find: the Sahara desert maybe. But here was Joyce going at the vampire without even a qualm. Nervy woman, but then again she’d raised Buffy so what else could Xander expect.
“Joyce, he’s not hurtin’. Well, he is hurtin' which is why he’s in the cage, but he’s hurtin’ from losing the slayer and his little friends and his dreams about comin’ back and bein’ able ta go back to what he was all gone in one stroke. Shouldn’t have told him everythin’ at once.” Xander closed his eyes for just a moment as Spike ran a hand through his hair and then he opened them and watched his Master’s expression. If he’d ever thought of Spike seeing him, and he could admit that he had thought it once or twice, he’s always imagined Spike laughing at him or making him do something horrible. Instead Spike continued to pet him as he looked down with an unreadable expression.
“William, get him out of the cage.” Spike turned around, and Xander now had a view of a leather coat and very little else.
“Joyce, ya need ta trust me on this one,” Spike asked, and the two of them were silent for several minutes. Xander of course simply added to the silence even as he wondered if it would have been better if he’d been sold to someone else. His presence was obviously making everything more difficult, so maybe everyone would have been happier if he’d gone to some nameless demon and been left to slowly lose his fantasies to time instead of having them ripped away. However, Xander had to accept that it wasn’t his choice, he just had to accept whatever life that Spike handed him.
“Spike, I trust you with my life, and I trust your intentions, but he’s human, and I'm not sure I trust you with his recovery. He needs to start being Xander again.”
“So, ya want me ta get him an apartment and a job and send him out to do the nine ta five thing?” Spike asked, and Xander felt his stomach start to ache, but he really didn’t have a vote, so he just worked at calming his panic at the mere thought of Spike turning him away like that.
“That might be best. We could get him some therapy, maybe some live-in help to get him adjusted back to being Xander.”
“Joyce,” now Spike sounded tired. “He isn’t Xander anymore, no more than I’m William, and you’ve got ta accept that and move on from there.” Xander blinked rapidly at that comment.
“You still have a lot of William down in you,” Joyce replied softly.
“And he’s still got a lot of Xander in there, but it’s not the same as him bein’ Xander. He’s not Xander, and if ya ask him to be, he’ll kill himself tryin’ ta make ya happy, but it won’t change the fact he’s not Xander.”
“He shouldn’t be in the cage.” It didn’t escape Xander’s attention that Joyce had done a sudden shift in conversation the type Buffy had once used to distract Giles from her lack of practicing or prevent her mother from asking about grades. He let the wave flow through his soul, giving himself permission to grieve for her loss and his own small part in it. Of course, if he’d stayed, he just would have been one more victim to get picked up, prodded, poked, and then captured and enslaved by demons. Ironic that. He was saved from being captured by being captured.
“Xan needs the cage right now, Joyce.”
“No one needs that kind of torture. Maybe you don’t remember what it’s like to be human, but no human needs *that*.”
“Oi,” Spike hissed and then the silence fell as Spike breathed deeply, something Xander hadn’t noticed him doing before. Eventually Spike started again, and Xander could hear the placating tone.
“Imagine you’ve been in a closet for six months and every time ya come out ya get beaten or tortured or made to…perform. You’d get mighty fond of that closet after a while.”
“I’m aware that he has an attachment, but it’s not healthy. We should find him a therapist…”
“No,” Spike cut her off using a harsher voice than Xander had ever heard the vampire use toward Joyce. “No therapist is going to soddin’ understand what he went through. Leshar employs a bloody Pockla demon—they do the type of healing mojo that ya need when you’ve done real damage ta the body like pulling out someone’s guts or ripping off a limb. You don’t effin’ know what can be done ta a body when ya got a way of puttin’ it back together at the end. So he bloody feels safe in that effin’ awful cage and it doesn’t matter whether you or I think the thing should be turned ta scrap, he *does* need it and if ya can’t accept that, I’ll take him elsewhere.” In the middle of the rant, Spike started pacing, his hands clutching into fists and his game face slipping into place so that Xander felt real fear for Joyce, but now that Spike had moved, he could see her standing her ground, hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of Buffy’s frustrated pose.
“William,” she started.
“No. I’m not kiddin’. I don’t want ta leave, but one good shove and we’re sendin’ him right off the edge, so maybe it’d be better if we just packed up and found another place ta lay up for a while.
“Spike,” Joyce started again, but she fell silent when Spike continued on his rant.
“Need ta get out of this bloody town. I’m a soddin’ vamp; I shouldn’t be carin’ about people or tryin’ ta take care of ‘em. I should be out there snacking on a couple of locals, not drinkin’ bagged blood and arguin’ over how ta fix Droopy.” Xander simply looked on, but his Master’s use of that old hated term made him happy he was in the cage, unable to react and unable to earn punishment.
Xander could see how much Spike didn’t want him as a slave. Xander blinked a couple of times as he discovered that something else could hurt him as much as Buffy’s death. He really hadn’t ever been the brightest, had he? He had chased Buffy until she had turned him down cold and gone running around town with an Initiative soldier, and he’d made up this whole relationship with Spike that didn’t even exist; of course the vampire had given him the decoration and kept his slave by his side considering Spike wanted the girls back. Xander promised himself that he’d stop lying to himself and just accept that his Master needed him to impress the other slave-owners and nothing more. He’d do it; he’d obey and he’d help get Willow and Tara home and maybe then he could just ask Spike to make it all end. Slaves didn’t get old, so Xander hadn’t ever expected to live more than a couple of decades, but a couple of decades could be so very long. If he obeyed and helped, maybe he could ask his Master for a quick death by fangs rather than a trip to another slave auction.
“Spike you are not the kind of man to walk away from your word, and that doesn’t make you less of a vampire. What’s the body count now?” Xander had to mentally replay the last part, convinced he had missed something in his self-pitying rambles.
“Seventeen, or eighteen really. Xan took out Riley, so I’m countin’ that as one for the home team.” Eighteen what, Xander wondered. Dead soldiers? Would Joyce talk that way about dead soldiers?
“He killed Riley?” Xander would have expected a question like that to sound horrified, shocked, condemning, but Joyce simply sounded curious.
“Captain Cardboard got vamped. I’m just sorry I didn’t find him before he got used as Xander’s visual aide in the auction.” Joyce just looked confused. “They were billin’ him as a great vampire hunter turned pet, so they had him demonstrate his skills on soldier boy. Xan went all trembly and shaky lookin’ and then when Riley rushed in convinced of a quick kill, Xan staked him so quick and clean a couple of the audience members missed the whole fight. That’s when I knew he wasn’t as broken as Leshar’s normal lot.” Joyce gave a small strained laugh.
“I suppose there’s justice in that somewhere,” she said, and then she walked over. Xander watched her approach passively, determined to return to his training and not let himself get confused again by his place. He was Spike’s property.
“He really feels safe in this horrible thing?” Joyce reached out and touched his forehead as though checking for fever, and Xander simply waited and tried to take the part of himself that longed for touch and put it in the back of his mind with all the other non-slave thoughts. He was a slave and slaves just accepted, isn’t that what his trainer had whispered to him as he’d stood outside Xander cage first stroking Xander’s hair and then driving the thin metal rod into the fleshy part of his shoulder? As a slave it was his duty to accept both forms of attention equally, and Xander reminded himself of that lesson, a lesson he’d studied hundreds of times before learning. Accept whatever comes. Spike didn’t understand the cage. It wasn’t about feeling safe because his trainer had used the open front to hurt him with sharpened rods and hot irons as often as he’d comforted him with gentle strokes and a healing touch that erased all the little pains. No, the cage wasn’t safe, it was acceptance.
When he was in the cage he didn’t have to worry about doing the right thing, about bringing punishment down on himself, about being the one to blame for a nameless girl’s death as he knelt in her blood. In the cage he didn’t have to fight or feel guilty for not fighting or hate his own stupidity for fighting when it was so obviously pointless to fight. In the cage he got to let go of all that and just existed. His trainer and now his Master could do whatever, and he couldn’t stop or fight or submit. He just accepted that he was a tool for Spike so he could live up to his promise to Buffy, and that should be enough for him. That was more than he ever expected to have. Seeing Spike had just made him feel more and want more and he had to get over that.
“He asked for the soddin’ thing,” Spike said, and now he came over to put a strong hand on Xander’s shoulder. Xander silently watched his Master.
“I don’t know if I can take this,” Joyce finally admitted, the hand pulling back slowly as though afraid that the cage would reach out and grab her if she moved too suddenly.
“Maybe we really should go somewhere else, luv. It’s not like you haven’t already been through enough.”
“No. No, I want you here.” Joyce’s hand returned to his forehead, but Xander continued to watch Spike. “He’s the beginning, and now we’ll get the others back. I just never expected...” Joyce took a deep shuddering breath. “Will the girls…” She stopped, but Xander knew what she meant. Would the girls be absolute nut cases ready for the loony bin the way the boy is?
“Witches are valuable for their magic. They’ll be taught not ta turn on whoever owns them, be…convinced…to obey, but breakin’ a witch makes her almost worthless for doin’ magic. I suspect they’ll get along a whole sight better than Xander.”
“How can people do this?” Joyce sounded on the verge of tears and turned and left without even waiting for an answer.
“Bloody hell if I know,” Spike answered the empty doorway through which she had disappeared.
“Right,” Spike said with energy as though shaking off the mood left by Joyce’s visit. “Here’s how it goes. If I let ya out and you show you’ve gotten control back, you’ll stay out. If I let ya out and ya start sliding toward the short side of sanity, you’ll take care of your human business and go right back in, got it?” Spike asked as he leaned down and went nose to nose with Xander, but Xander gave the same response he always gave in the cage: he blinked.
“I’ll take that as a ‘Yes, Master,’” Spike said as he lifted the cage back down to the floor. Spike unhooked the front and pulled it out before setting it to one side and undoing the other restraints. Xander wiggled out and went into a full Position kneel at Spike’s feet: head down, back straight, kneeling up straight with his hands behind his back. He tried to review everything his trainer had told him as he waited for a signal.
“So, I’m takin’ that as you havin’ control,” Spike commented, and Xander waited. Spike finally started talking again. “Right, bathroom for human stuff,” he ordered, and Xander rose as gracefully as he could and padded toward the bathroom with his head bowed and his hands at the small of his back. Once in the bathroom, he quickly used the toilet and showered and drank as much water as he could since Spike had spoken of putting him back in the cage. Within ten minutes he was once again kneeling at his Master’s feet. A tap on his head sent him into the Down kneel with his butt on his heels, but he left his hands behind his back as he waited and tried not to move. His Master shouldn’t be bothered with him, and he hoped Spike did order him back to the cage because he was finding it hard to just accept that Spike didn’t want him.
“Oi, you’re back ta being the perfect little slave,” Spike commented as a hand found his hair, and Xander realized that he had slid away from his training in the three days that Spike had owned him. He’d slip into the more comfortable Down kneel without order, he’d try to get his Master to do things for him, and he wasn’t serving as he’d been trained to serve. Xander accepted the criticism in silence.
“Feelin’ guilty about the scene last night?” Spike asked, and Xander suddenly remembered that he’d tried to hit Spike. He’d already been ordered into the Down kneel so he couldn’t put his forehead to the floor in shame.
“Yes, Master,” he replied in his quietest voice.
“We all want her back, pet.” Silence descended again.
“What do ya need, pet?” Spike asked, and Xander tried doing a self check. He didn’t need anything, he’d accepted, or at least he was trying to accept, and that’s all he needed.
“Nothing, Master.”
“Nothin’ my arse. Ya need something so bad I can hear the wheels in your head spinning.” Xander knew what he was thinking about, but it really wasn’t his place to ask, and Spike certainly hadn’t asked a question.
“I expect honesty from you, so tell me what ya need.”
“Something I have no right to ask for, Master.” Xander answered honestly, but Spike’s sigh made it clear that he didn’t like the answer. “A promise, Master?” Xander nearly whispered the request, knowing that it was almost sacrilege for a slave to ask for a promise, but Spike had wanted to know what it took to keep Xander sane, and Xander suspected that he needed the promise because sanity was running a little thin.
“What do ya need?” Spike asked again, and the tone did it. The concerned tone that reached into Xander’s head and made him think that Spike might actually care even knowing the way the vampire felt. The truth bubbled out of Xander at such a speed that it had escaped before he even had time to regret that he wasn’t in the cage where forbidden thoughts couldn’t come out in an unguarded moment.
“I know you just need me to find Willow and Tara, and I promise to be the perfect slave even though you don’t want one, and if you want to just send me to another room I promise not to start talking to stars or breaking my training, but when we have the girls back please don’t send me back to the auction, Master.” Xander took a deep trembling breath before finishing. “Please just drain me, Master.”
Xander thought he had earned the biggest punishment in the history of slavery when a hand reached down and grabbed his arm, but Spike pulled him up and into the vampire’s lap where Spike wrapped strong arms around him and held him until Xander couldn’t even comfortably breathe.
“Bloody hell. I’m going to find Leshar and I’m going to pull his soddin’ internal organs out one at a time. I won’t promise ta kill him because I’m going to let my slave have the pleasure of doin’ that, but I’ll make him sorry he ever touched ya, pet.” Spike started gently rocking, and Xander tensed, the kindness too much for him to take. For the first time he actively fought Spike, trying to pull away, but Spike just held him until Xander could feel the tears trailing down his cheeks.
“I bloody remember sayin’ somethin’ like that ta Angelus. Poof had gone and gotten his soul, and Darla sent him out into the night. I went running after him, begged him ta take me with him. He may’ve been a sadistic son of a bitch, but he’d taught me ta hunt and I’d kill a hundred humans ta get one ‘That’s me boy,’ out of that Irish bastard. He took one look at me and told me ta get away from him. I told him he’d have ta stake me, and I blocked his way, but he just knocked me into the wall so hard I blacked out. By the time I came round, he was gone, and I think that’s when William died too. Became Spike that night. Spike went with Darla and ate the damn gypsy women and children, but I never cared for anyone the way I cared for that bastard, not even Dru.”
Xander listened and realized that Spike was sharing something that wasn’t even in the Watcher’s diaries because Xander had sneaked into Giles’ office often enough to know that the Watchers had no clue what had caused Spike’s sudden personality shift, a shift they had described but not explained. That’s what Spike had meant about William not existing anymore.
“Master?” Xander half sobbed, not willing to trust his own conclusions any more.
“You’re mine, pet. You’ll be mine until the day one of us dies, and if I have anythin’ ta say about that, the day won’t ever come. I know you’re not Xander any more, and I’m bloody grateful because that git talked too much and never trusted himself ta do anythin’ right. Was annoyin’. Nearly as annoyin’ as this other git I knew who wanted ta please everyone so much he made a soddin’ fool out of himself. But you’re you now, and we’re goin’ ta figure it out.” Spike’s voice became clearer. “Down,” he said and Xander slipped off into the Down kneel.
“So, let’s start ya with somethin’ Droopy never was good at: swords.” Spike stalked over to the closet and pulled out two long swords in black leather scabbards. “Droopy never listened well enough ta get the hang of them, and he never seemed ta be on speakin’ terms with his body; he was about as graceful as a pregnant ox. You, however don’t have those faults, so I think this new person you’re goin’ ta be could be one hell of a sword fighter.” Spike walked over and dropped a sword on the floor in front of Xander. Xander’s hand started reaching before he pulled it back in horror, realizing that he was breaking the rules only minutes after promising himself to not break rules.
“Ya can have that later, I think clothes are in order first.” Xander hadn’t noticed his nudity before, but he did now and he pulled on the jeans and boots Spike tossed his way. Joyce must have gone shopping once Spike called. The jeans wouldn’t have fit him at all before he lost weight in his trainer’s care, so Xander suspected that the vampire had given Joyce his new dimensions.
“Before I give ya the shirt, we gotta do something else.” Spike said, a blue shirt still hanging from his hand and delicate black chains hanging from the other. Spike tossed the shirt on the bed. “Pet, stand with your back to me.” Xander had knelt to tie his boots, so he rose and stood with his back to Spike.
“Tell me why I gave you these in the first place.”
“For following you around even when you acted like a git and forgot to give me the right command, Master,” Xander answered, and boy wouldn’t his history teacher have appreciated a Xander Harris who listened that well. Xander had known he was broken, but he always seen it as a choice between rebuilding Xander Harris or staying broken. He’d never considered Spike’s solution.
“Oi,” Spike complained even as Xander felt hands at his collar. “Ya don’t bloody have ta remember that well.” The hands finished, and Xander felt the chains resting against his back, the small gems tickling his backbone. “Gave them to ya because ya did what I wanted and ya didn’t let trainin’ or fear stop ya. That’s why you’re stronger than Leshar and that’s why ya bloody well survived him, whether he realized it or not.” Xander thought about that and for the first time in months, he felt at peace.
“So, shirt and then fighting,” Spike announced brusquely. “See ya downstairs.” The vampire turned and left before Xander could even pull his brain out of the happy fog he’d entered. Realizing that his Master was waiting, Xander slipped on the shirt and hurried downstairs.
Xander found Spike at the dining room table, and he went to the Down position since Spike always signaled him down anyway. Joyce was sitting at the table carefully watching him, and Xander caught small glances at her before a piece of sausage appeared before him. He reached out and started following his training, but he suddenly realized what that would look like to Joyce. If they were eating with demons, the demons would be impressed with Xander’s training, and Spike would be able to get some relief by having Xander finish the job under the table like at the food court at the auction. But here Joyce would be horrified and Spike would be frustrated without being able to relieve that frustration.
Xander limited himself to taking the food and chewing, omitting the NC-17 portion of the meal. As soon as he took the food, he felt a tug as Spike grabbed the upper stone hanging from his back chain and gave it a quick tug. Xander understood the gesture’s tacit approval of his decision to break training, and when a piece of dry pancake appeared, Xander simply took the food. The meal continued until Xander was past the point of full, and then Spike stood up and picked up the plate they had both eaten from. Xander stood and followed as the big bad master vampire took his plate into the kitchen and loaded it into the dishwasher before returning to the dining room.
“We’re goin’ out for a bit of trainin’, luv. Won’t be back until late—near sun up probably.”
“Have fun, boys.” Joyce answered as if her two teenage boys had announced they were going to the Bronze. The woman really had seen too much of the weird, Xander thought as he followed Spike up to their room to retrieve the weapons and leave.
A half hour later, Xander followed his Master, glad for something to think about other than his own mistakes, other than Buffy, other than the loss of his girls and the disappearance of Anya, and how pathetic was it that he wasn't calling Anya one of his girls, but then he really was more of Anya's than Anya ever was his. He might not have been broken back then, but he'd had cracks. Anya had seen those cracks and moved in, offering to help hold him together in return for frequent orgasms, and now that he looked back, things really hadn't changed that much he mused as he followed his Master toward the largest of Sunnydale's cemeteries.
The weight of the sword at his back and the stake tucked into his jeans reminded him eerily of following Buffy into the dark, trusting her to spot the vamps as he concentrated on covering her back, and when all else failed, falling down and distracting the vampires with the scent of him bleeding.
"Right. Not goin' ta have some helpless cub followin' me around, so let's get ya ta use that sword for somethin' other than swinging around your head," Spike said as they reached a grassy area. Xander would have pointed out that he really was better at the bleeding and distracting portion of vamp hunting, but he hadn't been asked his opinion, so if his Master wanted him to fight with a sword, he'd do it.
If he'd expected Spike to take it easy on the poor little broken slave, Xander got over that delusion quite quickly. Spike would show him how to do a particular move, and no sooner would Xander master it, careful to listen to Spike's every word and instruction, than Spike would change his own defensive moves and send Xander crashing to the ground again. While Spike wasn't technically punishing him, the physical blow of getting slammed into the ground by a vampire and the pain of disappointing his Master combined to drive Xander back up to his feet determined to not fall again. Of course that determination didn't prevent Spike from taking him out time after time until Xander was panting for breath.
"Stop tryin' ta avoid hittin' me," Spike snarled, and Xander realized with a start that he had been avoiding the killing moves Spike had shown him. "I'm already bloody dead ya git, and if ya can get the sword through *me*, I'll trust ya ta be able to get it through some soddin' demon. So come at me again and this time mean it."
Xander squared his shoulders and moved his feet into an attack position as he brought the sword up. Over and over Spike had surprised him by ending a formal sword attack with a punch or kicking a leg out from under him, so Xander decided to take a lesson from his Master's approach. Xander moved in, carefully shifting and watching Spike for signs of frustration that could lead to an opening. For a second, Spike's left hand dropped, but Xander ignored it having been flattened after going after a feign once too often.
Without warning, Xander drove forward, and Spike blocked his move; however, instead of trying to regain control of his blade, Xander let the sword fall and swung in with his stake while Spike was still off guard with surprise. Xander slammed the stake in low in the stomach, not wanting to risk any sort of accident, but the move worked and Spike went reeling back.
“Bloody hell!” Spike yelled, and Xander instantly knelt, his head to the ground.
“Not this bollocks,” Spike wearily ordered, and Xander looked up to see the vampire pulling the bloody stake from his stomach. “Told ya you could learn. Just didn’t soddin’ expect ya to learn so bloody quick.” Spike held the stake out to Xander, and Xander took it, slightly bothered by the sight of his Master’s blood, but reassured by Spike compliment. Xander rose and retrieved his sword, wiping it as Spike had shown him before replacing it.
“Well, I guess you handle that thing well enough for some vamps or lower demons,” Spike suggested as he poked tentatively at his own stomach. “Let’s go take care of the hell mouth, pet.”
By the time Xander followed Spike home, he had killed three vamps and knocked Spike on his back twice more. Of course, he had hit the ground so many times he couldn’t even really count, but he was the weak human slave, so anyone would expect him to go down, the surprise was that Xander could take Spike down at all, and tonight he’d done it a total of three times. They walked back to the house a couple of wounded warriors returned from battle, and Xander began to believe they really would bring the girls home. He silently added his own promise to his Master’s and only hoped that Buffy could hear him. Of course, if she could, she was probably laughing her ass off, but that was okay too, he decided.
They hadn’t gotten any farther than the living room when Joyce’s voice stopped them.
"Spike, explain why Xander looks like abstract art," Joyce said in a calm and even voice that obviously provided a thin veneer for some serious mom-anger. Xander looked down and noticed the scrapes and grass stains and red spots and bruises visible on his arms and the portion of his back showing where Spike’s sword had caught the hem and ripped half the shirt off. Spike had stopped in the hall to talk, and Xander had gone to his knees without even realizing it.
"We were fightin'," Spike said, and from his place at Spike's feet Xander could imagine the vampire's shrug.
"Fighting as in you beating him black and blue?"
"Fightin' as in him learnin' ta use a sword without dropping it on his own foot."
"Spike," Joyce paused for a long time before starting again. "Spike, he's human and you have to keep that in mind."
"Pet, tell her what ya think of our lesson today," Spike ordered, and Xander had an immediate response.
"I knocked Master on his ass," he answered happily.
"Oi, and Master knocked you on your ass about a hundred times, let's not forget that part now pet." Xander didn't smile, but he felt one inside.
"He could have been hurt. What am I saying? He *is* hurt."
"He'll heal fine, and he's a good deal less likely ta get himself killed in a fight now."
"William," Joyce said in a shocked voice, and her use of Spike's human name reminded Xander of Angel--that same disapproval. "You can't take him out fighting with you."
"What? I should leave him here on his knees while I go out?" Spike demanded in a suddenly cold tone. "He needs ta be of use someway other than on his knees or you'll never get back any part of the Xander you knew."
"But he's so bruised, after everything he's been through....Spike, are you sure? I’m so scared we’re doing the wrong thing here."
"I know ya are,” and the warmth returned to Spike’s tone. “The best way ta make sure he stays broken is to act like he *is* some broken toy that ya have ta treat like glass. He's a hell of a lot stronger than you're givin' him credit for, and those bruises aren't goin' ta bother him. However, if those bruises help him avoid gettin' himself skewered by some demon in a fight, I'll consider them worth it."
Spike's hand suddenly found his hair, but instead of just petting him, the vampire pulled him off balance so that he half fell against Spike's legs, resting on his butt instead of his knees. At first he panicked, eager to get back into position, but Spike's hand held him firm, and he wouldn't fight Master so he eventually settled into the new position even though it was uncomfortable for him to be so casually leaning against his Master' s leg. As soon as Xander relaxed, he felt Spike's hand release his head and begin stroking his hair. Xander stayed where his Master put him, sitting on the floor with his legs to one side and his head leaning against his Master's thigh.
"But..."
"No 'buts.' He's mine, and I'm not going to turn him into little tiny pieces of broken bits because I'm tryin' ta ignore what happened or treat him like he's not one soddin' strong little bastard who deep down won't give up no matter what. Besides, I'll give him a touch of my blood tonight, and it'll only take a day for those ta heal up."
"I would suggest you stay home tomorrow then. If Giles is out on patrol and sees Xander looking like that...." Joyce didn't finish, but Xander could feel the tension in the room.
"Yeah, I know, luv." Spike finally answered, and Xander wondered what had happened that they weren't telling him. He tried not to think about what would be so horrible that they would hide it even after telling him about Buffy. "It looks like you're stuck with us tomorrow."
"I can live with that," Joyce answered with such tenderness that Xander was surprised. Spike had always been close to Joyce, talking to the woman about his frustrations and love life even when he'd been the big bad to everyone else, but now they shared a comfortable silence and a language of half-spoken sentences that spoke of a deep sense of family. Xander wondered at how much could change in just six months. Without another word, Spike headed for the stairs, and Xander rose to follow. The windows were still dark, but they'd been out for a long time, and Xander was loose, his muscles well stretched and limber, his body aching but not the way a beating would leave him aching. This was the well-earned soreness of a tough training session, and Xander appreciated every ache. He appreciated that Spike trusted him to take care of himself and didn't look at him like a tortured puppy. He appreciated that Spike had given him something to think about other than the pain in his heart.
Spike threw open the door to their room, not bothering to close it since Joyce’s room was in the other end of the house, and Xander decided to repay his Master for everything his Master had done to help him.
Chapter 7:
Xander silently slipped his clothes off as soon as they got in the door, neatly folding them and dropping them to the ground before Spike had taken off more than his duster, tossing it to the dresser where it hung haphazardly. Xander ignored that for now and went to his Master, who now had his t-shirt half over his head, and he dropped to his knees in front of Spike.
"Bloody hell," Spike cursed, and Xander guessed that he had startled the vampire, which he took as a compliment since it meant that Spike trusted him enough to not keep constant track of his slave using vamp senses. Kneeling down, he started working on Spike's boots, untying and loosening the laces so that he could pull them off.
"You don't have to do that, ya know," Spike said, and Xander answered even though it wasn't technically a question.
"I know, Master." He gave a gentle tug on Spike's leg, and he felt his Master's hand on his own shoulder, using him for balance as Spike lifted his foot for Xander to pull off the boot. Xander repeated the process with the other boot and then put the two shoes beside the dresser where he'd placed his own shoes. He guessed that Spike wasn't really bothered when he returned to kneel at his Master's feet and found that Spike had stopped undressing himself, waiting for Xander to return and finish.
Xander obliged by unfastening his Master's jeans and pulling them down over the long, lean, strong legs before folding the jeans and setting them aside.
"Would Master like a massage?" Xander asked in his best allure-voice. Yep, Droopy Harris might not have known a thing about seduction since most of his encounters involved a woman grunting "you" and then throwing him down, but the person he was now knew how to tilt his body to tempt. Spike was silent for so long that Xander risked looking up, and he found curious blue eyes studying him.
"Yeah, it'd be nice," Spike finally answered as he went to the bed and lay down. Xander almost ran to the bathroom where he'd seen the non-scented lotion and ran back, halting at the doorway as he caught sight of that beautiful long, lean body laid out on the bed, so trusting as to not even check what Xander had in his hands. Xander realized that for the first time serving wasn't going to be about accepting but enjoying. Enjoying the access he had to the vampire's body and thoughts; enjoying how much he got to see the real Spike and knowing that Joyce and possibly Drusilla were probably the only other people who saw Spike like this, with pieces of William shining through. Enjoying the fact that he was going to bring pleasure to Spike who had turned away from his own nature to honor a promise to a slayer.
Xander started at Spike's feet, warming the lotion in his hands before he began to work the bottoms of the feet, pressing his thumb in hard to release the tension. He carefully worshipped each foot, not because of the fear of being punished but because this was his gift to his Master. Xander then worked his way up the legs one at a time, alternating long deep strokes pressing into the muscle with lighter circular patterns traced on the skin with the heel of his hand. When Xander reached Spike's butt, he smiled at the idea of how he would have reacted a year ago, but now he gave the muscles under each cheek the attention they deserved, kneading the flesh until he could feel the muscle relax under his touch.
He worked his way up Spike's back, listening to the happy sighs in order to judge when to press harder and when to turn his touches into lighter teasing strokes. Running his hands down the back, he marveled at how he could feel each muscle as it ran from one bone to another, strong, thick cords beneath the smooth skin. He concentrated on each muscle group individually: first right shoulder and then right mid-back and then right low back before moving on to the left side. He straddled Spike, pressing his own naked legs against Spike's body as he moved on to massage Spike's hand, paying attention to each finger before working up the arm to the shoulder, and by now, Xander noticed that Spike was totally limp beneath him, moving only in response to Xander's hands as he gave little moaning breaths. Xander finished and retreated to the side of the bed where he sat rather than going to his knees.
"Would Master like to turn over so his slave can finish?" Xander asked huskily and was rewarded with another groan.
"Can't bloody move," Spike complained even as he disproved his own words by rolling and resettling in the middle of the bed. Xander saw the evidence of his Master's interest, and his own body started responding as ordered as he felt his own sexual desire slowly growing. Xander started at the feet again, rubbing each briefly before moving up the front of the legs, massaging the large thigh muscles until Spike's cock bobbed happily. He bypassed it though and continued up Spike's body, working on the shoulders and the arms and the chiseled chest. His fingers ached, but he continued until every part of Spike except his cock lay totally relaxed beneath Xander.
Xander knew of only one thing that he could offer his Master that he had never offered anyone else, so he moved back slightly, straddling the vampire's body and pressing back until he felt Spike's cock touch his crease. Then he settled, his own cock now full and heavy even as he felt Spike's touching at his tender entrance. The last time Xander hadn't really enjoyed it, but his Master had certainly enjoyed himself, and it hadn't really hurt, so Xander wanted to offer it again because he wanted Spike to know how much Xander appreciated what he had done.
Spike slowly offered a smile as his eyes drifted open.
"Seems like someone is rediscoverin' the whole concept of 'want'," Spike suggested with a salacious leer, and Xander smiled back. He did want; he wanted to make Spike happy. "Seems kind of sad that all your pretties are on your back where I can’t appreciate them up here," Spike said thoughtfully. "Except this pretty, this one is placed just right for playin' with." At this Spike started absent-mindedly stroking Xander, tickling around the head of his cock until Xander really had to concentrate to follow the rules and not come.
"Go get the box, pet," Spike ordered, and Xander wordlessly got off and went for the box of equipment Spike had purchased with the cage. He brought it to Spike's side and crawled back on. Spike dug through the box one handed, searching by touch until he came up with black cuffs connected by a black chain. "Hands out, pet." At Spike's order, Xander held out his hands and watched as Spike adjusted the cuffs to his size before snapping the two halves of the clasp together with a click. The cuffs were wide and comfortable, lined in leather, and Xander quietly tested their strength by pulling as he let his hands fall back down in front of his body. Spike laughed.
"Go on then, pull all ya want but ya aren't goin' ta break them, pet." Xander ducked his head and instantly stopped, embarrassed to have been caught, but Spike's hand just reached out to grab the six inch chain between the cuffs. "You're mine, pet, not lettin' go." Xander felt his body react to the statement, the sexual tension in his body tightening until he nearly gasped in need. Spike pulled the chain down, and he lowered himself to Spike’s chest, shifting his body down so that his head landed on Spike shoulder, his hands trapped between their bodies. He felt Spike's second hand move around to his back and begin tracing his back chains, pressing the links into Xander's skin, and Xander shivered at the touch. Luckily Spike correctly interpreted the movement because he just laughed and continued playing.
"Ought ta get ya somethin' up front, somethin' I can play with. Maybe some nipple rings." Xander really couldn't have controlled the tremor that went through his body even if his trainer had been standing beside the bed. "Would ya like that?"
"Yes, Master."
"Would ya tell me if ya didn't?" Spike asked, suddenly serious. Xander had to stop and really think about that. He knew what answer his Master wanted, but he wouldn't give an answer that wasn't true. Finally he decided.
"Yes, Master."
“Took ya long enough ta decide, but at least I know you’re takin’ the question seriously.” Spike just lay holding him so long that Xander would have thought the vampire had fallen asleep except for the hand that kept moving on his back, sometimes playing with the chains and sometimes stroking the skin below. Xander would have been uncomfortable with his own lack of involvement except with this hands chained and Spike holding the chain he really couldn’t be expected to follow his training. Suddenly a hand slapped his thigh. “Up,” Spike ordered as he released his grip on the chains and Xander quickly got off and stood by the bed.
“First time didn’t count,” Spike said as he sat up and looked through the box more purposefully now. Xander wanted to snort at that thought since he’d been there and he was fairly sure it did count. If Spike hadn’t enjoyed the experience, Xander wouldn’t be offering it again, but it wasn’t his place to contradict his Master, at least not out loud. Spike pulled out the matching hobbles and Xander stood still as Spike chained his legs. The hobbles were long enough for Spike to still use him, but Xander did have to resist a snort that the vampire seemed so fond of his chains. When Spike kept digging, Xander started worrying about how creative the vampire would get, but Spike just came up with his armbands.
The vamp patted the bed next to him, and Xander sat down with this back to Spike as his Master completely unlaced the armbands in order to get them around Xander’s arm since Xander’s hands were cuffed. When the hip chain came out next, Xander really did have to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He’d offered to let his Master shag him as Spike would say, and instead Spike was playing dress up—not that he needed to “offer” himself to Spike since he really would have put his butt up in the air at a single word, but he just now noticed that Spike had never given that word. Well, at least not after that first day.
“Up,” Spike said, and Xander stood. He’d never had so many things on him at once, and the minute he stood, the firm grip of the leather around his limbs and the teasing touches of the trailing chains, and the cool caress of the hip chains swinging around his thighs made him gasp as he tried not to come right there.
“One more, but this is just for tonight. Ya haven’t earned it for keeps yet.” Spike pulled out a decoration with three red stones going from small to large suspended in a two foot chain made of tiny black links. Spike wrapped the end around the collar and fastened it so that the smallest stone rested just below his collarbone, the middle hung roughly between his nipples and the largest dangled right around his belly button. Xander had two thoughts. One, he looked like a cheap whore from a dirty novel cover. Two: if he moved around too much with all these light chains teasing him with their feather touches and the leather wrapping around him with comforting tightness that he was going to come all over Joyce’s floor.
Spike walked over and stood at the doorway to their room. “Out,” he said, and Xander paused for just a brief moment, a small ray of panic as he considered Joyce seeing him like this. He couldn’t even claim to care about modesty any more, but he didn’t want to cause more trouble between Spike and Joyce. He went out as ordered and in the hallway, he went to his knees. Since Spike had dressed him as a proper slave, Xander went into the proper Position kneel with his back straight and his head tilted down as he felt Spike walk around him.
“Walk ta the end of the hall and back,” Spike ordered, and Xander rose to obey, focusing on his posture in order to show the decoration off. The small decorative chain along the inside of his leg slid with every movement, making his cock ache in need, and the swinging hip chains bounced against his flesh so that he wanted to just grab himself and start playing sock puppet of love right there, but he’d been given an order, so he got to the end of the hall, turned and walked back with his back straight and his chains flowing against his body.
“Ya got no idea how beautiful ya are, do ya?” Spike asked. Xander didn’t answer as he turned and lowered into a kneel again.
Spike tapped the wall, and Xander was surprised to be ordered into a punishment position, but he moved silently, feet well back from the wall and spread until the hobble chains stretched tight. He couldn’t spread his hands properly either, but he put them at shoulder level as he leaned toward the wall arching his back and pushing out his butt for whatever punishment his Master chose to give him. Xander knew that a Master didn’t need a reason for punishment, a Master had a right to punish a slave at any time, and he dropped his head in acceptance of that fact. He just hadn’t expected Spike to take advantage of that right, and he had never been punished when decorated. The confusion and the uncertainty took a toll on his cock as he started to soften, and he tried to focus on the feeling of his decorations against his hot skin in order to keep himself hard and not break a rule.
He stood there for a few seconds, his hip chains slowly stilling until they dangled under him from the angle of his lean. Then he felt something at his backside, and a wet finger trailed down his crease. When the finger worked its way up into him with very little resistance, Xander expected something larger to ender. Instead, the finger continued to work in and out in a parody of sex. Xander enjoyed the feeling of the gentle touch, even if it was in a rather personal place to get petted, and then Spike other hand went back to playing with various chains.
“Ya seem ta be getting a little soft, there,” Spike commented, and Xander tried to focus on his orders, but now the fear of punishment and disappointing his Master added to the mix and Xander found himself fighting his body. Without warning, Spike slipped to his own knees in front of Xander, and suddenly a mouth was on Xander’s cock, a tongue running round the head of his cock, tracing the edge where the head and the shaft met, a hand was playing with the small decorative chains that ran down the inside of his leg as part of his hobbles, and the finger which had gone right back inside of Xander now pressed in on a spot Xander had never known existed. If he had, he sure wouldn’t have been using a sock.
“Oh god,” Xander breathed and would have gone complete limp in fear from speaking out when in a punishment position, but Spike’s mouth kept moving and sucking and licking, and Spike’s finger kept pressing into that happy spot up inside him, and Spike’s hand pulled at his hobbles, making the leather pull against his skin, and Xander was spending entirely too much energy trying not to come. He didn’t have any left over for panic and limpness. Then all sensation stopped.
“Ya back in the mood then?” Spike asked as he stood, and Xander looked up to find himself nose to nose with his Master who stood between his arms. Xander panted. “That a yes then?” Spike asked as a single eyebrow twitched.
“Yes, Master,” Xander gasped, and Spike laughed before ducking out from between Xander’s arms.
“So, ya like the toys, pet?” Spike asked as he stood behind Xander and wrapped a finger around the front chain.
“Yes, Master.” Xander looked down at the graceful line of chain and stone that matched his back chains and wondered what his Master wanted before it would become his. Funny, he never expected to call anything “his” again, and now that he had a chance, instead of desiring a Playstation or wondering where his Babylon 5 collectibles had gone since his disappearance, he was coveting a slave’s decoration. Of course, the decoration was actually less stupid that the Babylon 5 stuff he decided as he watched the hall lights shine in the in jewels’ cut surfaces.
“Glad ya like, pet. You’re wearing about $80,000 worth of crystal there, and I figure when you put that with the $15,000 I paid for you, we both better enjoy them.” Xander stood frozen and staring at the decoration hanging from his neck. $80,000? Where the hell had *Spike* gotten $80,000?
“Of course, part of the enjoyment is the thought of Angel gettin’ that bill and chokin’ on it.” Xander couldn’t help it; he turned his head to look at his insane Master. Spike reached up and brushed hair from Xander’s face.
“That place where I found the Gem of Amara, had lots of pretties in it. I’m not stupid enough ta sell things that might have mojo on ‘em to just any demon who might want ta go openin’ the hell mouth. That’s the only reason I didn’t go back for the stuff before, so Peaches and I have a deal. He checks out the treasure and hocks it for me, and in return he gets ta keep an eye on my spendin’.” Spike paused at that. “At least he thinks he sees all my spendin’,” Spike said with a smile and a shrug. “Bought those on one of the accounts he manages figurin’ he needed some annoyin’, and as soon as we get the witches back, we can go annoy in person, pet.” Xander suddenly had an image of himself in full slave chains prancing in front of the sexless vampire and he couldn’t contain the snort.
“That’s my boy,” Spike said with a smile and a slap on a bare butt. “Go get on the bed, Present kneel, and we’ll make it count this time.” Xander moved quickly to the bed, both relieved to have escaped punishment and relieved he was going to get some relief from a cock that now stuck straight out and dripped. He’d never been so horny in his life. Xander moved into position on the bed, his head resting on is chained arms as he looked down at his trailing black chain and red gem decoration. He reminded himself not to call it a necklace because he was not a girly man. Obviously the bottom in this relationship as he waited with his butt up in the air and his back chains up around his neck since his head was down, but that didn’t make him girly. The chains were long enough for him to spread into proper position, but he noticed that he could actually relax more since he could count on the chains to prevent him from going into a painful near splits.
The finger returned, and Xander pressed back slightly, eager for the finger to find that spot from earlier. And this time, the expected second finger did come. The pressure was still there, but this time, Xander didn’t feel any pain at all as he breathed and tried not to make a mess on the bed. Spike now stroked him with two fingers as Xander felt the bed dip and cool flesh press into his backside. Xander felt gentle strokes at his butt and his thighs, a hand tugging at his hobble chain before moving on to a stomach and a back. When the roving hand reached up and pulled at a nipple, Xander gave a half aborted hump before settling again.
The third finger entered, and the roaming hand now pulled the other nipple, but Xander was prepared and he managed to control his body and give his Master access without either pulling away or pushing into the various touches. At least that’s what he did until a finger ran up the underside of his cock, and then Xander gave a full buck, and when he tried to go back to position, he felt a large, blunt pressure at his hole. For a moment he remained horribly out of position with his back arched in an effort to push himself into Spike’s touch, and then Xander slowly returned to proper posture, each slow movement causing him to press back onto Spike until he could feel his opening yield as Spike’s cock started to enter him.
The last time it had been merely bearable, but now Xander found having the head of Spike’s cock in him horrible frustrating. He knew there was a happy spot in there if only Spike would push in deeper, but Xander held position and waited. He didn’t wait patiently, but he waited.
“Keep goin’ when you’re ready,” Spike said, and Xander realized that his Master was giving him the chance to control the speed. Without a moment’s doubt, Xander pushed back in one full thrust, eager to feel Spike’s cock against his newly discovered happy spot, and considering that a finger had caused him to ache with need, Xander wasn’t surprised when Spike cock left his writhing in an effort to not come before his Master. What did surprise him was the feeling of having Spike all the way in him. Last time it had been a pressure bordering on pain and definitely uncomfortable. This time he felt only a pleasant pressure like the happy feeling from eating a really large meal and knowing that you couldn’t eat another bite. He felt a fullness that made him feel….right.
“You’re mine now, pet. Before I just did what I had to because I thought ya were Droopy, and I wanted ta get him under control before he went and ran his mouth, but now I know who ya really are and this is me claimin’ ya. Won’t ever be anyone for ya but me, pet.” Xander listened to the words and he totally believed them. When Spike started sliding in and out, Xander squirmed as Spike’s cock drove into him, pressing against that spot and driving Xander to press back ever more eager to get his Master in him. Finally, Spike growled his pleasure, and Xander tilted his head to one side, expecting the bite. In a flash, Xander felt the sting of the bite and then an incredible warmth at his neck even as Spike continued with short hard thrusts that forced Xander’s legs apart and made him grateful for the hobbles that kept him from falling. Xander gasped his own pain of delayed orgasm and then he felt Spike come in him and the vampire stiffen. Xander cried out his own release and nearly fell to the bed when Spike pulled out his fangs.
“Oh pet, you’re a keeper,” Spike whispered, and a hand at Xander’s stomach pulled him over so that he was on his side on the bed with Spike spooned up behind him.
Xander lay sated next to Spike, but as the minutes passed, his discomfort grew almost exponentially. He could feel the shifting in himself because he had never before offered himself; he had simply done as ordered. He had never before enjoyed himself; he had reacted to his own fantasies. This time, however, he hadn't thought of Buffy and that bikini or Anya and her way of wrapping her limbs around him after sex. He'd actually thought of the demon in whose bed he lay. He had watched Spike's beautiful form and writhed not because he'd been ordered but because his body demanded movement under such an assault of pleasure.
He felt Spike shift beside him, and he couldn't stay in the bed any longer even knowing what his Master wanted. He couldn't stay in the bed *because* his Master wanted him to stay. Spike had been right about him always fighting, and now Xander realized just how much he wanted to just give in. He wanted to give the last piece of himself to Spike, and he didn't know what he'd have left if he did that, so he slid off to the end of the bed and knelt. He knew that Spike was probably asleep, and he would probably be on his knees all night, but Xander just couldn't do anything else.
"Bloody hell." Xander heard the tired aggravation in Spike's voice, and he flinched. He really didn't mean to be so much trouble, but he just didn't have it in him to get back into bed. If he did, the last part of him would belong to Spike, and he just couldn’t do that. He was supposed to fight, not take the last bit of free will he possessed and hand it over to someone else, to relinquish his right to be free in exchange for his right to kneel at someone’s feet forever—not that kneeling was a right. He would have noticed that right in history class if anyone had ever brought it up, but kneeling wasn’t a right, it was a degradation, and he shouldn’t want it and he did want it and oh how good the cage looked right now. But Xander continued kneeling.
“Fine.” Spike dragged himself out of bed and gestured for Xander to stand before removing the various chains. When Spike practically threw the chains at the box, Xander flinched again and then followed Spike over to the cage still on the floor from that morning. Spike rapped the thing a good deal harder than necessary, causing a resounding metal noise as he said, “In.” Xander moved into position, not even able to make eye contact with Spike. God, he really was pathetic; no wonder he frustrated Spike, and Xander sent a quick prayer of thanks to Drusilla. After all, the crazy vampire had given Spike the patience to deal with the crazy human.
Xander slid into position, wincing a little when he began impaling himself on the back rod just because the cold metal ruined the feeling that Spike had left with his own stroking thrusts. The ankle bracket locked his legs into place, the rod stilling any motion in his back half and Xander realized that a little part of him really didn’t want to sleep this way: cramped up, unable to move when the inevitable itches nagged him, his arms bent up behind his back. At that point the wrist strap snaked in between the bars and looped around his arms, pulling them up against the top bars more tightly than Spike normally tied them.
Xander opened his mouth to….what? Maybe protest the tightness of the wrist straps, maybe say he’d changed his mind, maybe to just sit open mouthed as he tried to form words that weren’t part of his vocabulary any more. It didn’t matter because as soon as he opened, Spike slid the front piece in, the front rod sliding down his throat and silencing him before he could react. He made a small wheezing noise by breathing out though his noise, but with his mouth stuffed full of plastic, he really couldn’t do anything else. Obviously it wasn’t enough to get Spike’s attention because the vampire wandered out of the bedroom still muttering. Xander watched Spike leave with wide eyes, really not wanting to be left alone and so helpless, but he didn’t have the power to protest as Spike turned off the hall light throwing Xander into darkness. He listened as the bathroom door opened and then after a couple of minutes closed, hoping Spike would come back, but he only heard footsteps disappearing down the hall steps.
Chapter 8:
Xander woke to the sight of Spike puttering around the room. At one point he would have expected himself to wake the minute Spike came in, but he hadn’t slept most of the night. He’d stayed up trying to see if Spike would come back, but the curtains had lightened with diffused sunlight as the morning came. He had waited until his eyes had been heavy with tears and sleep and he had finally fallen asleep when the windows on one side of the room had faded while the windows on the other side had brightened with the late afternoon sun. Now, Xander felt the weariness in his body and for the first time realized that fatigue had been his normal state for so long that he hadn’t even realized how much better he’d felt since Spike bought him. Well, until right now, anyway.
He understood why Spike had stormed out; the vampire thought the cage meant safety, and he could just imagine how angry Spike must be. However, Spike didn’t seem angry; he just puttered around the room reading from a paper and digging in the closet and generally not even reacting to last night’s joyful coupling or last night’s horrible end. By the time Spike noticed him, Xander had almost convinced himself that Spike was punishing him for asking to be put in cage by leaving him in the cage.
"There ya are, pet; thought ya might be sick you're sleepin' so long, but I guess I just wore ya out," Spike commented as he came over to the cage. Spike unlatched the front before taking off the restraints so that Xander could wiggle out, and Xander didn't think he'd ever been so happy to get out of his cage.
He knelt at Spike's feet and tried to stretch sore muscles without being obvious about it. But why should he care? Spike wouldn’t punish him…probably. Would Spike even care if he did stretch? Xander started a more extensive stretch and then aborted it before he could do more than twitch. His head suspected that he could get away with it, but his body—including his stomach—tightened and threatened all out revolt if he even tried. There was just too much fear involved with breaking the training, no matter how much a part of him wanted to. Okay, on to the next problem: how to talk to Spike. Whether or not Spike showed it, Xander knew that he didn’t take rejection well, and he didn’t want to repay Spike’s patience by hurting him. Xander opened his mouth but couldn’t come up with any way to start a conversation. He remembered that at one point words had come easy, too easy. He’d babbled like an idiot…an idiot in heat…in idiot in heat and on speed. Okay, so he’d established that Droopy Harris had a limited success with words, but at least he knew how to start a conversation without kneeling open-mouthed with no words coming out.
“Plannin’ on sayin’ somethin’ or are ya practicin’ ta be a fish come Halloween?” Spike’s words shocked him back to the present. Okay, that was a question, so now he could respond. Xander struggled to form words short enough to not trigger the queasy feeling he got when he talked too much but that would actually say something important.
“I’m sorry, Master.” Xander settled on, kneeling unhappily even as Spike’s hand found his head and tugged a curl in a familiar gesture before ruffling his hair.
“Nothin’ for ya to be sorry about. I wish I’d kept my temper, but seein’ ya in that cage makes me think of how much I want to kill that wanker, Leshar. But ya gave me somethin’ wonderful last night, and I appreciate that.” Spike walked over to the bed and crooked a beckoning finger toward Xander. Rather than stand, Xander knee walked the short distance and went to the Down kneel still facing Spike. Poor enough form to horrify his trainer, but still formal enough to keep him from having an all-out panic attack.
“It isn’t…I didn’t…” Words failed Xander and he was left trying to explain what he himself couldn’t really answer. Spike’s hand left his head, and then Xander felt a hand under his chin lifting his head so that he would make eye contact with those bright, curious eyes of his Master.
“Pet, why *did* you ask for the cage last night? Were you afraid?” Xander struggled with that answer. If he said yes, Spike would make some assumptions that weren’t true. If he said no, he was lying.
“I’m not afraid of you, Master.”
“But you’re afraid of somethin’,” Spike confirmed for him. “Leshar?”
“No, Master,” Xander immediately answered. “You’d break every bone in his body.” Xander wasn’t exaggerating either; he saw Spike’s fury reflected in his face every time the vampire even mentioned Leshar.
“Soddin’ right,” Spike laughed unpleasantly and fell silent as though enjoying some thought. He finally stretched his head first one way and then the other before continuing. “Somethin’ else then. What?” Spike’s question left Xander questioning himself and trying to sort out the training from the Xander thoughts.
“Myself,” Xander almost whispered. Because Spike was hold his chin up, he got to see the shock on the vampire’s face.
“All right, I’ll admit that ya have me on that one, pet. Why are you afraid of yourself?” Xander opened his mouth to explain, but he found himself so utterly without words or explanation that he felt on the edge of tears. God, what was wrong with him, he wondered. He’d never been the type to cry even when the worst happened, so why did he suddenly feel so totally overwhelmed? He felt a hand at his arm, and he followed his Master’s hand guiding him to lean against the bed in front of him and his Master’s leg beside him. Spike pulled him closer, and Xander dared to risk sliding his right arm over Spike’s lap so that he leaned his whole right side against Spike’s legs and found some part of himself wishing that Spike wasn’t wearing jeans and another part of himself doing the whole self-flagellation thing for even thinking that. Ignoring the competing voices, Xander knelt up slightly so that he could put his head down on Spike’s lap as well as drape his right arm over it.
“Why are you afraid of yourself, pet?” Spike asked again, and now one of Xander’s little voices quailed in fear at the realization that he hadn’t answered Spike’s question.
“I can’t keep fighting.” Xander whispered the answer as he looked at Spike’s belly button. He didn’t know why it was so fascinating, but he just couldn’t stop staring at the small pucker.
“What are you fighting, pet?”
“Myself.” He heard a sigh from above.
“What are ya fightin’ about in there?” Spike gave a gentle rap on Xander’s head.
“Giving up.”
“You’re makin’ more sense than Dru, but it’s gettin’ ta be a close call. Just tell me that one of the gits fighting up here,” a quick tug on a lock of hair, “isn’t listenin’ ta the stars.” Xander laughed.
“No, no stars talking to me yet,” he promised.
“So, one side of ya wants ta give up. What does that side want, pet?” Xander thought about his answer for so long that he was sure Spike must have gotten frustrated, but the vampire just sat on the bed and stroked his hair.
“That side just wants to not fight because I’m so tired. I just want to give up and let someone else take over without spending all my energy fighting them inside.” Spike simply nodded knowingly, and Xander wondered how much his broken pieces resembled William’s broken pieces.
“And the other side, what’s it want?”
“It’s afraid that if I stop fighting inside, I won’t have anything at all left. I can’t give up fighting without just plain giving up.”
Spike went still. "Ya don't have ta give anythin' up," Spike said, but Xander knew the truth. His Droopy Harris voice counseled a whole round of babbling about founding fathers and freedom and the constitution and the lack of a right to give up. Another part wanted to just agree with Master, but Xander sorted through all those thoughts to explain himself. After several minutes of silence, he spoke.
"I don't know how to stop fighting, and I'm afraid that if I don't fight, I'll lose the last of me." Xander had to take a deep breath because he had gotten out of the habit of talking and breathing at the same time. It was definitely more than Xander had said all at once in a long time, and Xander realized that he had turned into Oz, which wasn't that bad considering that Oz was kind of cool.
"Ya think I'd take that away from ya?" Spike asked but his voice was curious rather than accusatory. Would Spike take it? He thought he knew the vampire well enough to say no, but he was truly afraid he would give himself away, and he didn't even know how to explain that.
"I've wanted to give up for so long," he settled on.
"And now ya don't know how to stop fightin' without dyin’ inside," Spike summarized, and Xander was amazed that the vampire could explain Xander's mind better than Xander.
"Yes, Master."
"Just because ya stop fightin' the need ta be loved and the need ta be touched doesn't mean that ya give up the right ta fight forever. Ya can't push everyone out forever without turnin' into one mean bastard," Spike commented. Silence ruled the room again, and Xander thought about those words.
"If I found the witches and then decided ta go out and celebrate by killin' a convent full of nuns, one of Angelus' favorite pastimes, would ya go along with me?" Xander looked at Spike sharply, wondering if his Master was somehow testing him, checking his loyalty. Xander gave a truthful answer.
"I don't know, Master."
"Oi, that's the trainin' talkin' now. You'd grab a piece of wood and shove it up my arse," Spike said with a laugh. Xander thought about that and realized that while he probably wouldn't kill Spike, a stake in the ass wasn't out of the question.
"Probably, Master," he responded with a shrug.
"So, if ya stop fightin' yourself and let yourself fall asleep in my arms, will ya care less about those soddin' nuns?" Care less? No, Xander knew that he would hate the blood and death just as much. Do less? Maybe. If he let himself fall in love, and oh my god he had not just thought the "l" word about Spike. Xander sent up a thankful prayer that he had learned to do his babbling in his head. But back to the subject, if he fell in "like" with Spike, he feared he would do less.
"No, Master, but I might not do the right thing anymore."
"Not possible, pet. You were born doin' the right thing, and all the crap that's been loaded on ya since hasn't changed that. If ya learn ta let go of the pain and take some happiness out of life, you're still going ta be the White Knight. 'Course, knowing that means I have ta cut down on the nuns in my diet." Xander snorted. He'd read the Watchers' diaries enough to know that Angelus went for nuns and Spike went for strong usually violent men that would give him a good fight before going down. It was probably the reason why Spike at 120 years had scored two slayers and Angelus at twice that number of years had scored a big zero.
"Tell ya what," Spike said when the silence continued. "Let's take this one step at a time. You tell me somethin' that you've got locked up in there...something that you're fightin' ta keep in because it hurt or because ya want the pain for yourself and then I'll tell you something. That way you can learn to give up a little bit at a time and maybe see that ya won’t be a different person for lettin’ some of the pain out and takin’ some comfort." Xander considered that even as Spike’s hand kept petting him.
He thought about giving Spike something that he could give up easily like the time the client had ripped his guts open much like the way Buffy had died. His trainer had banned the demon and then held back the bleeding with is own magic until the Pockla healer could come to do the major healing. He thought about explaining how the trainer had forced him into the cage that first day when he'd kept telling himself to hold on until Buffy came. In the end, though he had to trust someone to help him out of this pain he couldn’t escape, and Spike seemed to be the only candidate running. Well, Joyce would certainly want to help, but he knew Spike was right about her just damaging him more, and he really didn’t want to think about Giles after all the weird vibage. So, he took a deep breath and decided to share the pain that he truly had kept for himself.
"She was blonde," Xander said. His words made no sense, and even he knew it as he struggled to get his thoughts together, but Spike remained silent, a hand gently petting Xander like usual. "I had fought until my trainer put these leather strings on me." Xander stopped, not even sure how to explain that part.
"Wet?" Spike asked, and Xander nodded, relieved to not have to explain the process. "They did that back during the Opium Wars in China," Spike said all matter-of-fact, and somehow that made it better. "How many?" Spike asked when the silence continued far beyond a normal pause.
"Hundreds," Xander shrugged. That wasn't the hard part; that wasn't the part he was trying to gather his thoughts to even be able to explain. "I was kneeling with them on and trying to ignore the pain because he just kept adding more when I disobeyed. Then the minions brought in a girl." Xander closed his eyes and imagined her face: round cheeks, bright blue eyes, pale lashes and brows that disappeared into her fair skin.
"They freed her legs and she tried running. I didn't even know I'd stood up." Xander struggled to get air into his lungs. "She saw me and ran toward me, cowering behind me." Xander remembered as the trainer stepped up and Xander had moved to block, sidestepping into the trainer's path. "I tried to help," Xander whispered and now he could feel himself start to shake, but Spike only leaned over him, pressing him down into the vampire’s legs even while laying on his back, and Xander gripped Spike’s legs like a drowning man.
"The trainer dragged her out from behind me by her hair. Said he wouldn't have my training ruined because I had developed an attachment to another animal." Xander didn't even have words for the next part, but he continued because now that he had started this, he couldn't keep the memory inside any more. "The trainer ripped her stomach open and dropped her body. He ordered me to kneel in her blood as she still sobbed and twitched." Xander didn't want to admit the next part, but he did. "I obeyed,” he moaned.
"So ya think if ya don't fight every step of the way you'll do it again?" Spike asked.
"I know I'd do it again," Xander said miserably. He couldn't see himself as strong knowing what he'd done and remembering the feel of her warm blood as he’d gone from one position to another in that red lake.
"Ya didn't give up, ya just did what ya had to. If ya hadn't, more would've died and ya know it." Spike reassured him, and Xander felt the small sobs shake his body even though he didn't make a sound.
"Not the worst," Xander said as he buried his head even farther into Spike's leg. "When he put me in the cage that night, he cut off the leather and called the Pockla to fix me, and then he stood by my cage petting me, telling me how perfect I was." Xander took the last knife in his heart and took a deep breath before sharing it with Spike. "I was grateful I was in the cage because I didn't have to push him off and I could just enjoy being petted like the animal he called me." Xander felt the guilt rip through him as he admitted his sins, and he had to appreciate the irony of a soulless demon hugging him as he hid himself in the demon’s lap.
"So ya figure that enjoyin' attention was wrong then so it has ta be wrong all the time," Spike said, and Xander realized that he had felt exactly like that. Every stroke in his hair had reminded him of being in the cage and being soothed by the monster who had killed the girl. “You tried ta help that girl, and there isn’t one human in a thousand that would do that. I saw Angelus take the wet leather ta humans, and most would have killed their own mothers ta get it off, and there you are fightin’ ta help someone. Bloody hell, that’s not a story ta be ashamed of, pet.” Xander listened to the words, but they didn’t sink into his soul, the just fluttered on the surface unable to reach the pain.
"So, do ya think I’m like that, do ya think my touches are dirty and make ya into an animal?" Spike asked as he sat up and the sudden lack of that embrace felt like an incredible loss.
"No, Master," he insisted vehemently.
"Then feeling safe and happy with me isn't like that." Spike pointed out.
"I know, Master," Xander replied unhappily, not sure how to get over a certainty that existed not in his head but in his heart.
"Well, we'll work on that then. Ya gave up some of the pain, and time will come that ya let some comfort take its place. But fair's fair. You told me yours and now I'll tell ya mine." Spike took a deep breath, and Xander was surprised to hear the tremor in even the vampire's breath.
"Buffy didn't die the way I always told Joyce. Couldn't face the slayer's mother knowin' what I did, so I told her how the demon killed her." Xander froze, unwilling to even think about what that statement implied. He'd expected to hear something since Spike had given his word but not this. He didn’t think he was ready to hear this, yet he couldn’t move as he waited for the worst.
"The Dursler, he wasn't kind enough ta rip out her stomach. He got her pinned and he slipped in a claw and started pullin' her insides out through this little hole in her stomach. She screamed like I've never heard a human scream before, and I've got my own history of torturin' humans." Spike took another deep breath, and Xander waited for the explanation, hoping that he wouldn't have to hate Spike when the vampire was done.
"By the time I'd killed the demon chewin' on my leg, she had her intestines hangin' ta the floor and the Durslar was watchin' her writhe. Ripped his effin' head off." Xander stole a quick look, and Spike had gone into game face with a look of pure hatred twisting his features. "Didn't help her none, and we both knew the score. If she'd gone to hospital, they could've cleaned her up and sewed her back together, but the Inititive loved tyin' her down and watchin' her slayer powers heal her--used ta record how long it for her bruises ta fade and her bones ta knit."
Xander tried hard not to be ill. He had suffered, but throughout he had known that he was in the hands of demons who saw him not as a thinking creature but as an animal. But Buffy had been in the hands of humans, and they had done to her the same sorts of inhuman things. He carefully kept his body still as he waited to hear how Buffy had died strapped to some gurney while scientists measured the length of intestines pulled out against the length of time she lived.
"She knew she was done for and she told me that she and I had ta protect the others.” Spike voice took on a tone that existed somewhere between frustration and respect. “Locked in a white room with her soddin’ blood slowly seeping out around her intestines, and all she thought about was saving the witches and that git Giles. She told me that we were the fighters; it was our job." Spike paused, obviously not wanting to tell the rest of the story. "She said we had ta keep up our strength." Xander suddenly understood where the story was going.
"Told me I had ta get my strength back because I was going to have ta be the one ta get the others out. Told me I needed her strength." Xander could picture the scene with Buffy wracked with pain, but the guilt of dying still outweighing that pain as she begged Spike to take the only thing she still had to offer. He could imagine her fear that Spike might not follow through on his promise, her fear that it was too late for the others, the fear that Spike wouldn't survive even with her sacrifice. Xander had time to consider all the possibilities because Spike had gone silent. The vampire slowly slipped back into human features before continuing with a calmer tone of voice.
"Made me promise, made me promise ta get the others out if there was any way to do it. Told me she didn't care if I killed every soldier in the soddin' place if I would just get the others ta safety, and I promised her. I promised her and then I sank my teeth into her neck and took my third slayer. Her blood was so strong and I was so hungry that I got bloody drunk off her, but I kept right on draining her as I felt her heart stop." Spike was silent, and Xander had no words of comfort. He knew the pain of causing another's death, but he didn't know what it was like to kill someone he respected. He knew how Spike liked to touch, and how Buffy needed touch even when she wouldn't admit it. He imagined the two of them on the one bunk quietly touching knees or giving a congratulatory slap on the back after killing a demon.
He felt his own pain vanish under Buffy’s pain and under Spike’s pain and the next time someone tried to tell him Spike was evil, he was going to beat the crap out of them because something evil could never suffer as much as Spike was obviously suffering right now. As a demon he should have bragged to everyone he met about taking a third slayer, and instead he sat in Buffy’s mother’s house and admitted it with shame in his face.
"After she was gone, I made another promise; I promised ta kill every one of those soldier boys and scientists I could find. I remember every one of their scents, and I've tried to track down the ones who got out." A thought rose to Xander's mind.
"Riley?" he asked.
"Begged him, I did.” Flash of game face. “The first time she was hurt bad enough ta take her out and play Frankenstein, I begged him ta go to Angel. Knew my wanker of a sire wouldn't come for me, but he'd have ripped the Initiative apart for the slayer. Riley just walked away. The worst part though is that he wanted ta make the call; he smelled of fear and sour hatred every time he came near and saw some new bruise on her, but he never did anythin' about it." Xander remembered the look on Riley's face when he had turned to dust, and Xander's only regret was that he hadn't had the time or the strength kill Riley the way he'd deserved to die.
Xander looked into Spike's now human features, and he could see the guilt, an expression he hadn't ever seen on Spike before and he suspected that he was looking into the eyes of one of those William fragments.
"Don't tell Joyce," Xander whispered, the audacity of telling his Master what to do vied with the knowledge that Spike needed some reassurance. "Buffy wouldn't want her to know." Xander felt Spike’s muscles slowly loosen as he half lay in the vampire’s lap and he suddenly realized that Spike needed the contact as much as he did, as much as Buffy had once needed it.
"Thought of just runnin' when the Initiative went down, but I'd made her a promise, and chip or no, I'll soddin well put the Scoobies back together if it's the last thing I do."
"*We'll* do it, Master," and Xander suddenly realized that the idea of submitting to Spike didn't scare him nearly as much. In her own way, Buffy had submitted, giving her strength to Spike when she wasn't strong enough to fight on her own any more. She presented the pieces of herself that were left to Spike and trusted him to do the right thing. Like Buffy, he knew he was broken and couldn't go on fighting by himself, and like Buffy, he suddenly knew that if he gave what was left of himself to Spike, he could trust Spike to do the right thing. Of course, if Spike took up nun-eating he would still stake his Master in the ass, but he could worry about that later.
"Yeah we will, pet. We'll get the witches back and then I'll go find Leshar and take out my aggression on him." Xander smiled at the mental picture of Spike using some of his more enthusiastic tortures on Leshar. He doubted that Leshar would hold up as well as he himself had for those six months. Of course, he doubted Leshar would have six months to find out considering Spike's notorious lack of patience. “ ‘Course we won’t convince anyone with those marks of yours, so drink up, pet.” Spike cut the pad of his thumb with a tooth and held out the bleeding digit. If Xander had a choice, he would have rejected the offering, but he reminded himself that he had agreed in this own mind to trust Spike and submit, so he reached out and brought the bleeding thumb to his mouth as he grimaced. The first taste changed all that. Yes, Xander could taste blood with its heavy metal flavor, but the blood was also spicy and zingy—not in taste as much as in feeling, like pop rocks, and Xander suddenly remembered he loved pop rocks.
"Oi, enough blood and enough sap. Get in the bathroom and do your human stuff," Spike gruffly ordered with a slap to Xander's back, and Xander quickly rose and trotted off toward the bathroom already missing the taste. At the door he stopped and looked back; Spike noticed him after just a moment.
"Pet?" Spike asked.
"Can we?" Xander stopped, not sure if he was ready, but unwilling to wait any longer.
"Can we what?" Spike asked with a tilt to his head.
"Can we get rid of it?" Xander asked with a small glance toward the sleeping cage.
"Bloody hell yes. Steamroller, car crusher or sledgehammer, don't matter ta me, but we bloody well will get rid of it," Spike agreed enthusiastically. “And if ya find yourself scared of givin’ up, we can find somethin’ that makes me less nauseous.” Xander had to wonder that a vampire known for torture by railroad stake could be bothered by a cage, but he shrugged and went off to get ready for the day.
Xander returned to the room a half hour later clean and well watered as he sank to his knees in front of his Master. He could feel something shift inside as he waited not with the slave’s indifferent patience but with curiosity. Clothes might mean fighting, and slave chains were quickly, in his mind, becoming associated with sex, but Spike had laid on the bed jeans, a t-shirt and both the red decorative chains.
“Go on then,” Spike said as he gestured toward the jeans, and Xander quickly dressed. Before he could kneel, he felt Spike’s hands at his collar behind him.
“What are they for, pet?” Spike asked.
“Doing what you want me to do and not what the training tells me to do,” Xander replied solemnly.
“And for bein’ strong enough ta fight the trainin’ and do what I want ya ta do,” Spike pointed out and suddenly the chains swung free against his back. “Now are ya sure about the cage?” Spike asked, and Xander had to swallow before he could even nod. God, he was scared of losing that, and how stupid did that make him feel?
“Then this,” Spike held up the long single chain with the three red crystals, “is for letting go of that pain.” Spike fastened it to the front of his collar before tossing him a shirt and walking out without another word. Xander finished dressing and followed Spike down the stairs and settled himself at Spike’s feet for breakfast.
A couple of hours later, Spike brought them back from training at the park. This time, Spike had kept the training to practicing forms, Xander suspected so that the bruises could heal. Xander really had never expected to get such a good master, and considering how he had treated the vampire when he had the power, he was starting to think that he hadn’t always been as good as he liked to consider himself.
They walked in the door and found Joyce waiting in the living room.
“You’re up late, luv,” Spike said.
“Couldn’t sleep. Are you going out to the clubs?” Joyce asked with a weary sigh.
“No, tomorrow. I didn’t realize he’d be so marked up from the trainin’, and I’m trying ta get the slavers ta see me as one of their type, so we’ll wait a day.”
“Slavers don’t beat the slaves?” Joyce asked, clearly confused, but now that Xander thought about it, he’d never been bruised when he was sent to work; bruises were for the training room.
“Oh, they beat ‘em, but they like to show them off as pretty decorations, and marks don’t do that, so a good slaver will brag about breaking a slave without ever leaving a mark on the outside. Of course, most do beat the slaves in private, but they wouldn’t take them out like that.”
“This whole business makes me ill.”
“Me too, luv, and considering I *am* an evil demon, that’s goin’ a ways.”
“So, Trivial Pursuit?” Joyce asked as though the sudden change in topic from human slavery to game board made sense.
“If ya make hot chocolate with the little marshmallows,” Spike wheedled as he went to the couch and sort of sprawled over it. Xander went to his knees.
“I’ll get the hot chocolate, and you can do the popcorn,” Joyce agreed.
“Oi, what’s the use of havin’ a slave if ya have ta make your own popcorn? Xan can manage the popcorn duty and I’ll sit here appreciatin’ bein’ waited on like a Master vampire should be.” Spike and Joyce exchanged some look Xander didn’t understand, and then Spike gave him a slap on the shoulder. “Go on then.”
Xander stood and followed Joyce into the kitchen where she pulled the milk out of the fridge before pointing to a cupboard.
“It’s in there,” she offered as she pulled down three cups before pouring the milk into a pan.
“You know,” she said even as she kept her eyes on the pan. Xander knew because he kept taking quick looks to see whether she would look at him disgusted by his willingness to obey. “Spike sent you in here so we could talk.” Xander *did* know that, but he wasn’t sure about Joyce’s reasons for pointing it out.
“Is being with Spike the right thing for you?” Joyce asked even as she turned around and pinned him with a demanding glare. Suddenly Xander remembered Buffy’s warnings about her mother’s ability to stare anyone into submission. Not that getting him to submit was any great feat these days.
“Yes, it is,” he answered simply, and she seemed to take that answer because she turned back around and returned to stirring the milk as Xander put the popcorn in the microwave. He reached over and snagged the butter knowing how Spike liked to add extra butter on the top even when it was the ultra-greasy movie style popcorn.
“Good,” Joyce finally answered. “Because he was getting so close to giving up that I was afraid I was going to lose him to the sun. When he first came, I checked his room every morning to make sure he was still flesh and bone because he’s the only one who took Buffy’s death as hard as I did, and we’ve gotten used to leaning on each other. Finding you has given him hope I haven’t seen for a long time.” Xander tried to process that information, but it didn’t make sense.
“Xander, do you know when all this happened?” Joyce turned and asked.
“No.”
“About three weeks after you disappeared. They were in that place for two months, and in the three months since that place went down, Spike hasn’t been able to make any headway. He only got into that auction this week because he killed a demon with an invite. He doesn’t have a lot of patience, and until you came, he was quickly losing hope.” Joyce poured chocolate into the pan and Xander pulled the popcorn out of the microwave and dumped it into a bowl before shoving the butter in to melt.
“Know that he needs you, and not just as a way to convince the slavers to let him in their club,” Joyce said as she poured into the mugs and headed out of the kitchen. Xander quickly followed, but in the living room, Joyce ignored him as though she hadn’t just turned his reality inside out. He looked at his Master who leaned back in a posture of insolence and indifference.
Putting the popcorn down, Xander went to his knees at Spike's feet and waited for the vampire to reach for him and three...two... Spike jumped the gun by threading his fingers into his hair and pulling his slave into a lean before Xander had mentally reached "one." Xander settled down with his butt on the floor, trying to get used to the feel of sitting down even as he leaned against Spike's leg and watched Joyce set out the trivial pursuit board. Okay, how weird was this, he wondered as he put an arm around Spike’s leg and rested his head on Spike’s thigh. If life would stay like this, he could handle slavery no problem, he thought as he realized he wasn’t in conflict within himself.
They laid the pieces out efficiently as though this were a common activity.
“So, what did Noxa say?” Spike asked.
“Hard to tell with his accent. Without you to translate, I catch about one in every three words.”
“Oi, he must’ve said something worth repeating.”
“Something about human bodies breaking ridiculously easy.”
“Ya couldn’t understand anythin’ else?” Spike said incredulously.
“Frighteningly enough, I understand him better than most human doctors I’ve had. He says the tumor’s gone and I can go back to work in a week if there’s no more pain.” Xander sat up at that comment.
“It’s all right, pet,” Spike assured him, and Xander let himself sink back into Spike’s thigh even though he looked at Joyce with wide eyes.
“I was having headaches, and Spike said I smelled wrong—which is actually very disturbing—but anyway, my doctors insisted nothing was wrong and gave me some pain medicine for headaches.”
“Wankers,” Spike interjected at this point, and Xander wondered whether the wankers in question were still alive.
“Anyway, Spike took me to a place just outside L.A., a place run by a demon.”
“Best around,” Spike added.
“What he’s not telling you,” Joyce said with an amused and fond expression toward Spike, “is that Noxa is essentially a veterinarian specializing in human pets. He won’t tell me that directly, but trust me, they totally see me as Spike’s pet as opposed to the woman who makes him wash dishes if he leaves blood drying in the mugs.”
“That’s what a soddin’ dishwasher’s for.”
“If you can find a dishwasher capable of handling dry blood, I’ll stop complaining. Until then, you’re the dishwasher when it comes to bloody mugs.”
“Oi, just roll the dice,” Spike growled, and Xander smiled that Joyce had so obviously won the argument, and he also smiled at the image of a master vampire ordered to do dishes by a slayer’s mother. Xander had nearly fallen asleep to the sound of their voices reading questions and complaining about the game, the answers, the way the questions were phrased. Okay, actually Spike was doing most of the complaining, but Joyce certainly held her own as Xander napped on Spike’s thigh, and life was good.
“Should have a demon category!” Spike objected when he missed another Sports & Leisure question.
“Just because you’re getting soundly trounced by a human less than half your age…” Joyce let the sentence dangle.
“Yeah, but you couldn’t tell me the cost of a Suvolte egg or how to defeat the Tor or how to recognize a Polgara.”
“Oh, please, no one can answer those.” Joyce pointed out.
“Willin’ ta bet my pet here can. Do you know a Polgara when ya see one, pet?” Spike asked, and Xander answered from that lazy half-asleep place he’d entered.
“Tough skin, horrible penises that taste like mold.” Xander responded absent-mindedly. Then he realized that Joyce was looking at him in shock and horror, and oh god, he was blaming that temporary loss of vocal control on Droopy Harris bits because he certainly knew better. God, he wasn’t ever going to be safe for decent company, was he? He looked up to see Spike gazing at him with an expression of amusement and concern.
“Sorry, Master,” Xander muttered.
“Ya do know how ta kill the mood, don’t ya?” Spike asked roughly, but the hand ruffling his hair belied the gruffness of the tone.
“Oh, god. I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and do nothing knowing how much he’s suffered.” Joyce dropped the dice on the board and ignored the numbers.
“Ya aren’t doin’ nothin’, luv. I’ll take care of Xander and he’s getting’ better, but he’s always goin’ ta remember what’s happened. Nothing we do now will ever make the past go away, and those memories are just part of him now.” Joyce’s eyes locked onto Xander, and Xander gazed back calmly during Spike’s speech. At the end, Joyce walked over and went to her knees in front of him.
“Xander, I’ve never seen you like this, please tell me you’re still in there and you’re going to be okay.” She sounded ready to cry, and Xander found himself surprised. He had never been close to Buffy’s mom, but now he shoved aside the training and reached out for her hand.
“I’m okay. I’m not the same, but I’m okay,” he managed before the panic started building. She just gripped his hand as she looked into his eyes.
“I just hope you can convince Giles of that,” Joyce said sadly without moving.
“Oi, don’t go bringin’ that git into it,” Spike snarled.
“Can’t help it. Angel called today to say that for $100,000 you had better have brought back both girls and Jimmy Hoffa.” Spike just snorted.
“Wanker.”
“I told him you brought Xander home,” Joyce said quietly, and Xander continued to maintain eye contact with her while she stared at him as though searching for some answer.
“Don’t bloody say it,” Spike warned.
“He said you have until tomorrow night to tell Giles or he’s going to call Giles himself.”
“That bloody inconsiderate Poof. Slack-jawed, over-gelled poncy git. That wanker walked away leavin’ me ta try and fix things, and now he calls and tell me what ta do.” Xander nearly fell as Spike stood up so quickly and violently that Xander had to put a hand down on the floor to keep his balance.
“William,” Joyce said, mother voice coming to the fore as she stood and went to Spike.
“No, I don’t bloody have ta take this.”
“He’s going to find out. If he finds out from some other demon or from seeing the two of you out beating each other senseless with your man-games, it’s going to be worse.”
“It’s going to be bloody messy no matter how it happens,” Spike pointed out as he now leaned against the far wall lighting a cigarette.
“Yeah, it is, but no messier than anything else around here for the last six months.”
“True, luv,” Spike conceded, and Xander suspected that tomorrow they were going to go see Giles, and he would finally find out what had happened between them. From Spike’s expression he wasn’t sure he wanted to go.
Chapter 9:
Xander woke the next day not in the cage but in an actual bed. True, he had freaked out a little, growing increasingly uncomfortable and uneasy until Spike had turned a half closed eye to him and asked him if he wanted the cage. Xander hadn’t, but he also didn’t know how to be in a bed anymore. After listening to Xander’s denial, Spike had looked at him for a long time, silent and tilting his head to the side as Xander tried not to squirm, but he literally didn’t know what to do with his limbs. His legs would curl up under him, tight up against his butt, but without restraints to hold them, they would eventually relax and move down the bed until Xander realized they were relaxed and pull them up again, leading to a great deal of fidgeting and a vampire still awake as the first rays of morning caused a glow in the windows.
At that point, Xander didn’t *want* the cage, but if Spike had asked him to go into the cage, he would have with great relief. When an obviously tired Spike had crawled out of bed and headed for the closet, Xander had sighed with the knowledge that he had annoyed his Master enough to go back in the cage, which he totally understood considering he couldn’t stop fidgeting, and even worse, he feared he had lost his front decoration. Instead of the cage, however, Spike came out of the closet with a set of chains and leather cuffs.
That explained his current predicament. He was chained to the bed with very little slack, his arms attached to the headboard and his legs chained to the footboard, and his body stretched not tightly but at least snugly. The restraints he liked, they gave him a reason to stay still and kept him from wondering what he was *supposed* to do. The problem was that Spike in his sleep had rolled over and now lay half on top of Xander, one of the vampire’s legs thrown protectively over his own and a vampire arm carelessly tossed over his chest and the vampire’s face fitting perfectly where head and shoulder met, leaving vampire hair to tickle at his sensitive cheek and nose.
Xander lay under his Master’s perfectly still body and tried not to sneeze and wake Spike. Eventually though biology overcame both training and desire and Xander sneezed as his own breathing moved Spike’s hair closer to his nose.
“Oi, gettin’ human snot on me!” complained an unhappy voice, but Xander recognized the teasing tone.
“Sorry, Master,” he replied unconvincingly.
“Yeah, yeah. Soddin’ humans with their endless drippin’ and leakin’.” Spike grumbled on about the general worthlessness of the human body as he crawled out of bed and went searching. Xander had a sudden thought and just hoped that Spike wasn’t searching for the key. Soon enough, a naked Spike came out of the closet holding up a key ring like a long-lost relic in the hand of an archeologist.
“Found it,” he announced triumphantly and Xander bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying something rude to his Master. Spike walked back to the bed and sat down, but he didn’t reach for the cuffs. Xander watched without comment as Spike reached out and ran a hand up his chest, stopping to rub a nipple. Xander would have liked to get hard, but his Master wasn’t hard so he held his own body in check.
“How about a little game?” Spike asked, and Xander looked at his Master for some sign of Spike’s mood. The vampire reached down and unlocked Xander’s ankles before moving Xander’s legs apart and kneeling between them on the bed.
“One rule, pet,” Spike said, and Xander listened as Spike leaned down, putting his hands on either side of Xander’s head. “Don’t get hard,” Spike whispered quietly but in such a serious tone that Xander resolved to obey no matter what. Spike lowered his body onto Xander and began with a kiss. A real kiss, the type of kiss Xander hadn’t felt in six months as Spike used his tongue to invade Xander’s mouth and Xander felt lips move against his lips. Spike’s weight rested comfortingly along the whole length of his body, and he flexed his arms to better feel the tight restraints trapping his wrists.
Part of him wanted to buck up into that strong body, to feel the increased pressure and friction as he humped into his Master’s body, but another part of him wanted to show his worthiness and obedience, so Xander stayed still and unmoving as Spike’s mouth plundered his own with savage hunger. Eventually Spike pulled back, and Xander openly stared up into those brilliant blue eyes as Spike sniffed the air and smiled knowingly.
When Spike started moving down, tasting a spot of skin here, sucking a nipple there, nibbling everywhere, Xander nearly screamed. Xander kept his arms tight against the restraints and concentrated on his tense shoulders as he felt his Master work his way down toward Xander’s still limp cock, but Xander didn’t know how much longer it would stay limp at this point.
Without warning, he felt a mouth surround his flaccid cock and he started mentally chanting to keep his body under control. He considered calling up one of his more unpleasant memories, but that just seemed wrong when in bed with Spike, so he held on and gritted his teeth as he tried to remember his tenth grade teacher trying to show him how to get the quadratic formula, and then Willow trying to teaching him how to come up with the quadratic formula, and even Giles taking a shot at it. The memory of that frustration should surely undo all the pleasure he felt as blood kept trying to gather in his cock which twitched but didn’t engorge in his Master’s mouth.
“Stubborn git,” Spike said with a smile as he finally sat up, and Xander gasped in relief from not having to fight his body’s need to react to such stimulation. However, Spike hadn’t finished yet; he reached up and grabbed a pillow before ordering Xander to lift his hips. When Spike stuffed the pillow under his hips, Xander had the feeling something else was about to get stuffed, and he fought back another surge of lust at that thought.
Sure enough, Spike retrieved a tube from the nightstand drawer and settled in between Xander’s sprawled legs. Xander closed his eyes and started his little silent chant as he felt a finger invade his body, wiggling in a way that just invited Xander to wiggle back, but Xander had an order and he would follow it no matter how much Spike tortured him. And Xander was beginning to think it torture as well because a second finger now joined him, stretching him in a way that made him shiver with blissful expectation and breathe through the agony of keeping himself soft.
Spike added a third finger and then brushed the prostate, and Xander’s cock immediately responded before Xander could fight it back down to a more calm state although certainly not completely flaccid any more. Xander just hoped that the slightly swollen and enlarged member qualified as soft in his Master’s eyes because he didn’t think he could do any better with his Master’s fingers still in him.
Xander had his eyes closed, so when Spike took his legs and swung them up into the air, Xander gasped in surprised and opened his eyes to see his own legs slung over Spike’s shoulders as Spike poised to thrust in. The look in Spike’s face and the feeling as his Master made the first thrust in rubbing the prostate the whole way totally undid Xander and every bit of blood he possessed flowed in to his cock which immediately swelled to a size and hardness hitherto unknown to man.
Xander gasped, caught between the agony of failing his Master and the vision of his Master’s smiling, triumphant face as Spike finally forced a reaction so strong as to be out of Xander’s control. Xander felt a shifting so immense that if he hadn’t been chained he would have grabbed the sheets to steady himself; however, the shift existed only in his mind. He suddenly understood the game and understood that by failing to follow orders he’d done the right thing. He felt Spike thrust in again, and he wrapped his legs around Spike’s body and braced his palms against the head board as their coupling drove him steadily up the bed.
Spike started slow and easy, but the minute Xander’s legs wrapped around him, Xander could feel the vampire quickly lose control himself and start thrusting in powerfully before finally coming with a growl. Xander’s own release followed close behind as he came all over his own stomach and chest. Spike slid out and lay to the side of Xander who now had sperm on and in him but could do nothing since he was still chained to the bed by his wrists, and he couldn’t imagine a better place to be. When Spike opened his eyes again several minutes later, he had an amused expression.
“Took ya bloody long enough. I’m the one who’s dead, pet, but you were doing a fine impression of a dead man there for a while.”
“Following orders, Master.”
“Remind me not ta play that game again; it’s hard on the ego to think I can’t even make a bloody human hard after 120 years of sexual experience.” Xander would have worried about having actually hurt Spike’s feelings only the vampire had such an amused expression with one eyebrow cocked up higher than the other that Xander just smiled in response. “Go do human stuff,” Spike ordered as he unlocked the wrist cuffs and Xander hurried out of bed to go wash so they could get started with their day.
The day started normally with Spike showering in another bathroom as Xander did his morning absolutions, and for the first time, Xander wondered why Spike didn’t join him showering, but he shrugged off the little nagging voice and dried off before wandering into the bedroom where Spike had laid out street clothes.
“Pet, we’re leavin’ the decorations at home today,” Spike said carefully, and Xander suddenly worried about having done something wrong. Spike must have noticed because he hurried to explain. “Giles is a little touchy about things like that, so we’re leavin’ them here so he doesn’t have somethin’ ta complain about.” Spike paused. “Although he’ll likely complain anyway.” Xander dressed in the jeans and button up shirt Spike gave him before adding boots and the various weapons that Spike had told him to carry. A lightweight coat hiding his veritable armory went on last. Xander took a deep breath and told himself that not following orders was good as he prepared to do something he hadn’t done in nearly six months.
“What happened with Giles?” Xander asked as he slipped the coat in place and prepared to follow Spike downstairs for their early meal before going out. Joyce always fixed their first meal and they would eat it together. The late meal would consist of some sandwich Spike would make as they tried not to make too much noise and wake Joyce, and Xander realized that they were quickly falling into a familiar pattern that was becoming “family” to him.
Spike sighed and continued down the stairs, Xander follow at heel. Xander could smell the chicken fried steak from the front hall, and he smiled at the choice. He’d gone so long without real meat that Joyce could plop uncooked ground beef in front of him and he’d be happy, but her wonderful cooking did not go unappreciated, and Xander noticed that Spike tended to eat his fill as well, although Xander did wonder how Spike got rid of all the food he took in.
“Good morning,” Joyce cheerfully offered as she came out of the kitchen carrying food.
“Not bloody likely. Soon as this day’s over, it’ll be good.” Spike grumbled at he sat, and Xander knelt down beside the chair, watching the two talk curiously.
“Boy asked about Giles,” Spike said as he cut into the meat on the plate and then held out a chunk for Xander to take.
“What did you tell him?”
“What am I supposed to say? That the git is an ungrateful bastard who soddin’ well annoys me so bad my fangs itch with the need ta eat him?” Spike actually sounded angry at that, and Xander looked up to see Spike’s game face, but the fork that now held mashed potatoes waited steadily and Xander continued eating assuming that if Spike really were angry enough to actually kill Giles, the vampire would be angrily pacing or breaking things. Joyce sighed.
“You two are going to have to talk this out some time.”
“Not bloody my fault,” Spike insisted sounding all the world like a five year old.
“Xander,” Xander looked up surprised because Joyce didn’t talk to him very often. “When the Initiative got invaded, Spike’s cell was near Giles’, so he found Giles rather quickly, but he couldn’t protect Giles from all the angry demons that were raging through the complex.” Knowing about Buffy’s actual death, Xander imagined that Spike must have been desperate to protect the Watcher. He still didn’t see any reason for homicidal itching.
“Well, Spike made a choice. In order to protect Rupert, Spike claimed him.” Xander’s eyes went big as he stared up at his Master even while he continued to eat. Claim bites were easily smelled by other demons, so Xander could understand the logic, but claim bites marked a human a slave, as property, much like the tattoo on the inside of Xander’s cheek marked him as property. The difference was that no demon could smell the tattoo, but most demons that got anywhere near Giles would instantly smell that mark and assume that Giles belonged to Spike. Xander wasn’t stupid either; he knew full well that Giles did a lot of business with demons through the Magic Shop.
Xander looked over to Joyce and wondered if the woman had any idea how big this would be. The Watchers in England surely would have heard rumors of Spike claiming a watcher for himself. “And I’m afraid I didn’t help matters,” Joyce continued sadly.
“Oi, don’t even put any of his bloody issues on yourself, luv. You were sick and ya needed a doctor who didn’t pat ya on the head and send ya home. Ya needed a doctor who’d take my word that something smelled wrong, and that means ya needed a demon doctor,” Spike instantly argued.
“Yes, but when word got around that you’d taken the slayer’s mother to a doctor for human pets, I don’t think that made Rupert feel any better about the interest you were talking in Buffy’s life.”
“He’s a bloody idjit. He doesn’t understand, and he doesn’t bloody want to understand. I could tell other demons ta stay away from him, and they’d do it. No demon gets between a vampire and a claimed human, but I haven’t and he can’t even bloody see that I’m not tryin’ ta use the claim against him.”
“I know, but he’s suffering from Buffy’s loss and after what the Initiative did to him, I can understand him hating something that makes him feel less free or less…” Joyce struggled for a word. “Less powerful, I guess. He was always such a powerful influence in Buffy’s life and now he’s lost her and he’s lost this belief that he could protect the children, and in the eyes of the demon community, he’s lost his own independence. Rupert is just making you the center for his anger over all of it.”
“He’s makin’ himself a bloody nuisance, and if he upsets my Xander, I’ll…” Spike stopped, and when Xander looked up he saw Joyce standing with one hand on a hip with a mother look that clearly promised a good grounding and a week of dishes. Xander almost choked on the steak as he tried not to laugh at a Master Vampire stopped in his tracks by a mother-glare. “I’ll soddin’ knock him upside his head and drop him off at the nearest hospital,” Spike finally compromised. Joyce didn’t look happy, but the hand came off the hip at least.
Xander finished eating in silence since the two adults seemed to have used up their conversation. When they’d finished, Xander followed Spike out the door even as the vampire called to Joyce to make arrangements with Giles to meet at a cemetery near the watcher’s house.
Xander followed Spike through town silently, aware that Spike’s mood darkened with every step closer to the cemetery until finally they entered the gates.
“Xander! Good lord, you’re actually alive.” Xander heard Giles call from a little way off to the side, and he looked to see a rather haggard looking Giles come toward them with an unshaven face and a wrinkled shirt.
“What? Ya think I lied about findin’ him? Ya think Joyce lied?” Spike demanded, and Xander could see Giles flinch, a hand going into a pocket where Xander suspected a stake with Spike’s name waited. He shifted his own position so that he was closer to Spike, not that Spike actually needed help, but maybe he could keep them from killing each other.
“I am perfectly aware of your ability to lie, and I am unsure about the influence you now hold over Joyce, so I did have my doubts,” Giles commented, but Xander noticed that Giles didn’t stop looking at him.
“Xander, are you all right?” Giles asked and then Xander understood the man’s concern. Droopy Harris would have already blurted out the whole story in one long run-on sentence.
“All right might be too strong,” Xander admitted as he tried to reassure Giles, hoping that he could help these two not kill each other. “But better.” Giles’ cold expression didn’t soften.
“Xander do you remember how much you hated Spike? Do you remember how Spike nearly killed you when he wanted Willow to do that spell? Do you remember Spike capturing you that one Halloween?”
“Oi, old news, mate. Things have changed and you need to move on,” Spike growled, but Giles just continued, his focus totally on Xander until Xander felt like trying to hide behind Spike. He would have actually moved if he hadn’t feared it would push Giles over the edge to violence.
“You know those feelings were real, so how can you trust Spike now with the chip out?” Giles asked, and now Spike stepped forward with a growl that Giles ignored as he continued. “Somewhere deep down, you know that you aren't thinking straight. You've been scared for so long that you're just clinging to the first person who shows you any kindness, and that's normal, Xander. What you're feeling is normal, but it's not real.”
At that Spike moved forward with the clear intention of ending Giles’ speech, only his forward momentum ended when a large dark figure tackled him from the side. Xander’s hand instantly pulled his sword as he stepped up to identify the attacker as Angel. The two vampires clung to each other, each trying to get a strong enough hold to pin the other, and Xander raised his sword. He couldn’t kill his Master’s sire without some sort of directions, but he could sure injure Angel and leave him vulnerable to counter attack. Xander was about to launch his attack, when Spike’s voice called out “Down!”
Without hesitation, Xander sank into a down kneel laying his sword by his side so that he could properly position his hands as he watched the vampire change tactics into a more aggressive punch and kick style. Angel fell back, and Spike pressed his advantage only to find that Angel had feigned. As Angel swung his childe around with a hold on his neck, Xander stood and picked up his sword in time to see Angel press a stake to Spike’s heart.
“Down!” Spike called at the same time Angel said, “Don’t do it.” He realized that he could never get to Spike in time as he squirmed ineffectively with his arm twisted up behind his back and a wood stake pressed to his chest. Without any better options, Xander sank back down to his knees.
“You bloody wanker,” Spike hissed still in game face.
“You were going to kill Giles,” Angel replied, and Xander flinched as Angel pressed the stake a little deeper.
“I was goin’ ta soddin’ attack him and slap him stupid, or stupider in his case.”
“Don’t press your luck boy,” Angel warned, and Xander could see Spike’s body arch up as Angel twisted the arm and pressed the stake’s point into the flesh.
“Don’t you dare do it in front of Xander you bloody useless lump of dead flesh,” Spike hissed, and Xander felt his heart ripped out as he realized what Spike meant. Ignoring orders, he stood, sword in hand and moved so that his back wasn’t to Giles as he took up a defensive position.
“Xander, since I've been looking for the girls, I've done a lot of research. I'm sure that you think I'm trying to take you away from Spike, and I'm sure you think he's doing the right thing, but you’re suffering from Stockholm syndrome,” Giles explained in a voice that he normally used for the crazy old lady who always bought ginseng from the Magic Shop. Giles held up his hands in a surrender pose as he stepped closer, and Xander adjusted his stance.
“He’s sufferin’ from the effin’ slaver’s trainin’ and from your interference,” Spike snapped.
“William,” Angel warned and Xander watched as Spike stilled in his sire’s grip, obviously outmatched by the larger and older vampire.
“Not in front of him,” Spike said again in a weary and much softer voice, and this time he dropped out of his game face.
“I don’t want to stake you, William. Whatever your reasons, you’ve done the right thing by Joyce and I know you’re trying to help Xander.”
“He’d doing Xander irreparable harm,” Giles interrupted, and now Xander couldn’t ignore the verbal attacks.
“He saved me and he’s helped more than you could have,” Xander said. “You gave up; you told Willow to give up.” Xander had said more than he intended and he could see as his words sunk in. Giles went from shocked to guilty to angry to some sort of emotion that Xander couldn’t identify. When the glasses remained in place throughout, Xander realized that Giles had certainly changed as well.
“Xander, I know that’s not you talking. You have to find your real feelings or you're going to be stuck a slave your whole life, and Buffy would have wanted more for you. You can’t stay with Spike.”
“William, order him to follow Giles home,” Angel demanded and the hiss Spike made revealed his opinions about that. “If you don’t, I will kill you in order to get him away from you. Even if you don’t mean to hurt him, Giles is right—he needs to be with people who can help him in ways you can’t.”
“He bloody well needs me,” Spike growled.
“He feels that way because survivors with Stockholm Syndrome take their terror and the small kindnesses that they see their captors showing them and they build it into a relationship that doesn't exist. His feeling right now aren’t real, they’re his attempt to deal with the fear of being purchased by you.” Xander watched Spike’s eyes flicker over to him, and he could only hope his Master didn’t listen to Giles’ explanation.
“I’ll make this simple, William. You either order him to follow Giles, or I’ll turn you to dust right here so he knows you won’t be coming for him again.” Xander watched his Master’s eyes meet his before Spike’s gaze slipped down to the ground in front of him, and Xander almost cried in fear because he knew his Master’s next words, and he didn’t know if he could survive them.
“Pet, go with Giles,” Spike ordered, and Xander’s body trembled with the need to follow the order and the need to ignore it. The sound of Giles moving drew his attention away from Spike.
“I know you can't answer right now; I know how hard this is, but you can get through this and I'll be here the whole way. You just need some time and some space to feel safe and you can overcome these feelings. I promise to help,” Giles said as he took one more step closer.
“I can’t,” Xander hoarsely offered as an apology to either Giles or his Master or both.
“Xander, I will turn him to dust if you can’t let go of him any other way,” Angel said so calmly that Xander knew he was telling the truth. He lowered his sword and didn’t argue when Giles stepped up and took it away from him. Xander looked over toward Spike who refused to even meet his gaze.
“Let him go now,” Xander pleaded.
“As soon as Giles has time to get you home, I’ll release him. He’s my family, Xander. I really don’t want him dead, but I can’t let him hurt you by misunderstanding what you really need.” Xander dropped his gaze, realizing that he had lost so when Giles reached out a hand, Xander didn’t fight. He fell into step with Giles even as the man kept a tight grip on his arm, and he prayed that Angel was good for his word because if Xander had just caused his Master’s death, he knew he wouldn’t survive the guilt.
(continues: Broken Beautiful2)
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