Beautiful Broken

Story by Lit Gal

Illustrations by Velvet Virago
......Illustrations are hidden under cover tiles, but they are not work safe.

Xander/Spike: Slavery, Non-con, D/s, Hurt/Comfort, Reference to past torture, Bondage
......NC-17 (not kidding, stop now if you're easily squicked)

Chapter 1:--Newly edited for grammar... thanks Fiona

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:-- Newly edited for grammar... thanks Fiona

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 either to punish or to 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 slavers’ 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. However, 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 as though he were 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, whom 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 quickly for comfort, but far more slowly 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 significant lack of 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 Spike’s intrusion. He was doing good, so why was Spike stopping?

“Can’t bloody do this without some participation,” Spike snarled. 

Xander’s trainer might have 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 might 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. Xander 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 Master. 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 you’re 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 crawled out of the closet, brushing past Spike's twitching leg. Once he reached Spike's side, he tucked his legs under him, but his cramping leg spasmed. Xander avoided crying out, but the muscle pushed him forward so his palms slapped the ground and his leg seared with agony. 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. 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. Oh 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 had 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 being returned would result in.

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 suspected that he wasn’t going to earn 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 before 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 for 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.

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’s tone had gone from murderous to sarcastic, but Xander simply waited for the order to move into position. He hoped the vampire would whip 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, awaiting 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’s 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 just to not go back to his trainer. He’d seen what happened to the slaves who 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 under the eyes of his trainer.

“Are you that one that trained ’im?” Spike asked, with a jerk to the chain

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 him ended up with trainers; slaves like him 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 returning him. 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, and 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 even though he wouldn't dream of looking up at his betters.

“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 of 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 from 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 awaym 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 behindn 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 than 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 less a command than 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 which command to violate. He wondered which would come with less punishment.

He hadn’t figured out how to answer that when he heard Spike sigh and felt the hand withdrawing. He 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, and nearly twisted 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: -- Thanks to Fiona for the grammar and the encouragement with the rewrite.

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 to catch a glance. 

Instead, he focused on being the perfect slave, his trainer’s presence reminding him of his place even 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 hadn’t agreed 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. 

Then Spike strode away toward a table, and Xander almost stayed behind. He hadn’t been given either touch or command, but if he stayed here, he’d get in the way of a whole lot of demons who would probably get pretty aggravated. So, with his stomach clenching so hard as to eliminate not only hunger but the ability to eat, and with 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 prefer to 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, Master.”

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 have had Spike punish him than have 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, 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 that 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, Master, ” 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 had 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. 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 nowhere.

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 was not as though other demons weren’t taking advantage of their slaves in public, nor did it matter 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 his cock became painful right afterwards... not that he'd had a lot of experience with that lately. 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 in the first place.

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 badly. 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 hadn’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 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; 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 had 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 did more thinking now than before he became a slave. Well, he didn't do more thinking, he supposed, but he thought about different things. Before, when he thought, he focused on things like Buffy's chest in her white tank top and Cordelia's chest in her cheerleader outfit and, god forgive him, Willow's chest in her pink sweater. Yeah, she was like a sister and that made it all kinds of wrong, but he thought it. Now days he thought more about things like how much could a soul endure before shattering into tiny bits and how much he missed Willow's laugh and how many people he'd hurt. He thought about Larry's bullying and Wendell's obsession with spiders. He even thought about Spike's cry of 'You were my Yoda' echoing though the school halls. Thinking was 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’s 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 all over himself as he tried to avoid looking at all those slowly blinking eyes.

Was 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. 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. 

--Go on with the story--