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 4:

By the time Spike reached the bathroom a minute later, Xander had the shower running at the temperature he knew Spike liked from having lived with him in the basement, a towel draped on the counter and soap and washcloth in his hands as he knelt on the floor of the shower waiting. Spike stood leaning on the doorway, and Xander grabbed furtive looks. He had to admit that Spike had a beautiful body with long lean muscles gathered just under the smooth pale skin. Xander had washed any number of demons, but he rarely liked the body he washed. This time he actually found himself looking forward to his duty.

“Bloody hell. I’m goin’ ta get staked over this, just know it,” Spike complained, and Xander froze, aware that his Master was unhappy but not really sure how to proceed. “Not my soddin’ fault the boy’s trained; be right cruel to leave him kneeling with no way to show his Master what a good little slave he is.” Part of Xander cheered that Spike finally got it, that maybe Spike would give him a chance to do what he was supposed to do. Another part snorted at the vampire’s ability to make excuses. Right, he mentally said in a sarcastic and drawn-out tone. He’d like to see Spike try that line on Buffy, even if it was true. He could imagine Buffy’s face and Giles’ furious glasses cleaning. So, Spike was in danger of being staked, huh? That meant he still worked with Buffy, and maybe Buffy didn’t even know Spike had his chip out. Maybe this was all a big conspiracy where Spike could finally take out the slayer who had bested him over and over.

As Spike stepped in, Xander stood, careful to keep his eyes to the ground as he carefully washed every part of Spike, reaching under to the armpits, sliding his hand between the vampire’s legs, lifting the vampire’s cock. The whole time he amused himself with a fantasy of saving his beautiful slayer at the very point when she realized that Spike had tricked her. She’d cry out for Angel, and then realizing that Angel had abandoned her, she would call for Xander, and he’d appear just in time as Spike bent down to drain her. Of course he knew he wouldn’t do it, if Spike and Buffy actually went at each other he would probably sit in the corner and go quietly mad, but it still made for a nice fantasy, Xander mused as he lifted each of his Master’s feet to carefully wash between toes and on the bottom. When he finished, he noticed that Spike’s cock had become fully engorged, and Xander went into position, his back straight and his mouth only an inch from Spike’s cock as he waited for the order.

And he waited.

…….And he waited.

God, did he have to spell it out for Spike? Why didn’t he just give the order so that Xander could finish washing the Master and then they could get on with whatever Spike had planned. Of course the vampire might want to take Xander on the bed, so maybe that explained the delay. Xander simply waited impassively for Spike’s decision.

“Wish I could bloody ask what you’re thinkin’.” Spike complained, and Xander wondered why the vampire couldn’t. It’s not like Spike had rules to follow. Hell, it’s not like Spike followed rules even when he had rules to follow. There was another silence broken only by the sound of the water hitting the plastic sides of the shower stall.

“Got a new rule for ya,” Spike said, and Xander waited. He hoped the rule wasn’t a hard one; hard rules like never smelling of fear always came with lots of punishment. He would have shivered in dread from that memory, but the lesson about not fidgeting, shivering, shaking or twitching had come even harder. “Any time I get hard looking at that body of yours, you have to get hard too. When I come, you come. You understand?” Spike demanded.

“Yes, Master,” Xander agreed.

“Explain the rule, then.”

“When you are hard from looking at me, I must get hard. When you come, I come.” Xander realized with horror that he was already breaking the rule, so he called up the image of Buffy at the beach in her green bikini, the one he used whenever his trainer ordered him to get hard. Instantly his cock started to swell, and he knew he had done well when Spike’s finger reached down to trace along his jaw.

“Go on then,” Spike ordered, and Xander instantly slid his mouth around Spike’s cock, licking and sucking on the head with great enthusiasm as he used his tongue to push the foreskin back. “Bloody hell, Xan. Never knew you’d be so beautiful on your knees or that your mouth would feel so bloody good around me. If I’d known, I would’ve taken ya when my wanker of a sire offered ya,” Spike remarked before the vampire subsided into groans. Xander tightened his right hand around his left wrist to keep his arms in position, but he could feel his own erection now bobbing, and Xander had never imagined it meant so much for the person he was servicing to give him a compliment. If Spike thought this was good, Xander resolved to show the vampire just how good he could really be.

Xander took a deep breath, and then he slid all the way down on Spike’s cock, swallowing over and over to massage the shaft and head even as he reached with his tongue to tease Spike’s balls. Xander kept the cock in his throat until a need to breathe forced him to pull back. Playing with the head of Spike’s cock and sucking passionately, Xander waited until he felt the cock twitch, and then he drove himself down on it again, swallowing, pulling back, driving down, swallowing, pulling back, and then the expected came, and hands grabbed Xander’s head as Spike drove his cock into Xander’s relaxed throat one, two, three, four times before coming, Xander’s own release came even as Spike’s cock still twitched inside his throat, but eventually Spike pulled back, and Xander gulped the air, finally noticing that he had gripped his left wrist a little too tightly, actually digging his own fingers into the soft underside. He loosened his grip and concentrated on relaxing the muscles that had involuntarily stiffened with his own erection and release.

“Such an obedient pet,” Spike said in a contented voice, and Xander knelt quietly as he tried to separate Spike’s use of “pet” from his trainer’s. His trainer always called him an animal or a pet or just “it,” but he’d heard Spike refer to Drusilla as “pet,” and he’d even caught him calling Willow “pet” once. Then again, he wasn’t Drusilla or Willow, so maybe Spike meant “pet” in the animal sort of way, but he was going to assume it was an affectionate nickname and put it away as one of his happy memories. It seemed like his good memories were almost getting worn out from him having to retreat into them so often. The details fading so that he couldn’t remember Larry’s face or picture Wendell the spider-geek or visualize the park where he would play hide and seek with Jesse and Willow.

He waited until Spike recovered from the orgasm and stretched before standing and picking up the shampoo. He wordlessly slipped behind Spike, ignoring the cocked eyebrow so that he could finish properly by washing his Master’s hair. Xander finished by rinsing his Master and would have followed him out to dry him, but Spike waved him off, So Xander sank to his knees and waited.

“Wash yourself, and take care of your human business, including water. Don’t want ta have ta worry about rememberin’ ta water you every mornin’ so take care of it yourself,” Spike ordered as he roughly dried himself off. Xander stood even while Spike whistled to himself and fixed his hair by touch. Xander tried to keep his eyes down, but he kept looking out of the corner of his eye to make sure he was washing correctly. As often as he washed others, he hadn’t been allowed to touch his own body for so long that he felt somehow disconnected from it. However Spike ignored him utterly, so he soon finished and stepped out to use the toilet. After Spike had left, Xander considered how to deal with the water problem.

He didn’t have a bowl, so he couldn’t drink the way he had been trained, but Xander had an order to follow so he considered his alternatives. The shower would get him wet again and he wanted to be at least somewhat dry when they went out. He could fill the sink and drink properly, but something in his mind told him Spike wouldn’t like that. Spike had called him messy when he drank properly. After a moment’s hesitation, Xander turned on the sink, turned his head sideways and slurped the flowing water the way he had drunk from the hose as a child.

Once he had his fill, he went into the main room, and slid to his knees at his Master’s feet. Spike’s hand immediately went to his hair, but it wasn’t a tap, so Xander kept in the upright Position kneel. Spike’s other hand went to the bedside table and Xander kept his eyes down even as he heard the slide of chain against wood. Had he upset Spike?

“Talked ta your trainer,” Spike announced as if Xander hadn’t been in the corner waiting during the discussion and Xander internally smiled as Spike growled the last word. Externally, Xander waited. His trainer often hobbled him by chaining his feet to his cock so Xander would learn to slow down and take smaller more graceful steps. Maybe his trainer had seen him hurrying after Spike and had suggested a day in hobbles to remind him how to walk. Xander resolved to spend his day being more cautious with his gait although he didn’t really expect to be able to forget with chains reminding him of every step. He waited for the taps that would order him to the floor.

“Plan on ignorin’ most of his rot. When he told me how he’d leave ya in position until you physically couldn’t hold it anymore and then whipped ya for slumpin’, it was all I could do not ta eat the bastard.” Spike snarled, and then he started to mutter angrily, “Makin’ ya think ya deserved it…wanker.” Xander suspected that Spike wanted him to understand that Spike would only punish for real offenses, and Xander did believe that. Angelus was the torturing bastard, and while Spike had always had a reputation for the extreme, it hadn’t escaped Xander’s notice that Spike’s torturing was always done at Angelus’ side and left to himself he quietly ate without the whole torture thing. Xander knew that he deserved whatever Spike gave him, and he only hoped that the vampire hurried up because he was starting to worry about things far worse than hobbles.

“But he made sense when he said I needed ta tell ya why I did things, what pleased me and what didn’t.” Yep, here came the punishment. Xander found himself both resentful of the fact that he knelt at Spike’s feet waiting to be punished like a child and grateful that his trainer had convinced Spike to explain the reasons for the punishment. Xander listened carefully so that he could change his behavior to serve Spike. Spike sat on the bed in silence until the very lack of knowing what was coming started bringing up more and more extreme possibilities in Xander’s mind. Finally Spike took a deep breath.

“Wanker said ya would see me decoratin’ ya as a reward, a way of showin’ that I liked something ya did,” Spike said the words slowly and carefully as though unwilling to even speak the words, and Xander tried to figure out what was bothering Spike.

“Would ya like it if I decorated ya?” Spike finally asked.

“Yes, Master,” Xander agreed, and he would. His trainer would sometimes allow him to wear a decoration for a day to remind Xander of something he had done well. In many ways, it was like being petted all day. He remembered the time that a demon had praised Xander’s ability to bathe and pleasure him. Xander had hated the act, but his trainer had been so pleased at Xander’s ability to perform without reservation that he had fastened two long trailing chains in his hair so that Xander could feel their weight and their cool links running down his back and across his buttocks like a caress. He very much liked being decorated. He was never punished while he wore decorations, and the other slaves would often look at him with envy, just like he envied them when they earned decorations.

“Turn around pet,” Spike ordered. “Hands in front of you.” Xander obeyed and he felt fingers at his collar, hooking something to it. “This is for followin’ me even when I acted like a git and forgot ta give the command,” Spike said, and Xander felt loops of chain settle in on his back, the lowest brushing against his butt and the higher one falling just under his shoulder blades. “This is for this mornin’, the whole soddin’ thing from wakin’ up happy ta you wantin’ ta please me.” Xander kept his eyes down, but he felt the leather cuff around his left arm as Spike tightened the laces in back, allowing the trailing leather tails to brush the back of his arm down to his elbow. “And this is for the water. Knew you’d struggle with what ta do when I didn’t tell ya how ta water yourself, and ya figured out a solution on your own.” Xander felt the second leather cuff tighten around his right arm.

“Stand up, pet.” Xander stood and with every movement he could feel the gentle touches across his back and arms. Even knowing that Spike had to be laughing at him, Xander couldn’t help but smile to himself. When Spike bought him, he’d never expected to survive, and so every moment of pleasure was a treasure he clung to. Even if Spike was evil and chipless, Xander knew he’d follow the vampire anywhere. Cool hands were suddenly at his waist attaching the waist chain low on his hips with the dangling hip chains hanging on the outside of each leg. Since his eyes were lowered, he could see that the chain wasn’t his normal one from last night but a decorated version with black links and small red stones at the end of the hip chains.

“Go ta the mirror in the bathroom and check it out pet,” Spike ordered, so Xander walked into the bathroom and turned his back to the glass. The two loops on his back swooped down from the collar, the small black links dark against his skin which hadn’t seem much sunlight lately. In the middle of each loop, two links hung down with a red teardrop shaped stone hanging at the bottom so that one teardrop rested just above the crease of his butt and one rested on his backbone just above the small of his back where his hands rested when kneeling. The armbands were black with braided laces trailing down, and the new black hip chains swung when he walked, making little flashes of red light dance around the room.

Okay, so he obviously belonged to a vampire now with the whole black and red theme, but Xander loved the feel of them against his skin. He loved what each one meant. He reached up and fingered the cuff on his right arm. He’d earned it by making a decision, and yes it was stupid that the decision had been on how to drink water and yes it was stupid to think that he had momentarily panicked in the face of such unclear orders, and yes it was even more stupid that drinking from the faucet had caused him such nervousness, but he’d earned the cuff doing it, and the cuff wasn’t stupid.

Xander left the bathroom carefully keeping his arms still so that his leather traces and back chains didn’t move at all and his hips slightly swinging to get a pattern going with the hip chains. When he reached the bed, he slipped down into the Floor position.

“Oi, not this again. Just bloody say what you’re thinkin’.”

“Thank you, Master. They’re beautiful.” Xander heard Spike snatch a quick breath and then he felt the tap on his butt pulling him up into the straight backed full kneel.

“You and I are gettin’ in too deep here,” Spike said, and Xander waited. “Pet, look at me.” Xander looked up into clear blue eyes. “Ya really are mine, aren’t ya?” Spike asked, but the answer was so obvious that Xander didn’t think he had to answer. “Right,” Spike suddenly shook off the mood with a twitch of his shoulders as he stood and grabbed his duster.

“Do your cleanin’ and I’ll be back,” Spike left, and Xander noticed that he was alone for the first time in six months. For a moment he remained kneeling, staring at the door, but then he realized that when Spike came back he’d expect Xander’s work to be done. Xander hurried to the corner where Spike had tossed the box of extras from his trainer. Ignoring everything else, Xander grabbed the spray cleaner and paper towels so that he could disinfect his cage and clean the thick pad on the bottom that always got sweaty and dirty. He carefully cleaned the rods, well aware of the damage any breeding bacteria could cause, and when he was finished he snapped the front piece in place and returned the cleaner and unused paper towels before going back to a kneel.

The door soon swung open. “Ya done?” Spike called without looking in.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good, got chores before we leave.” Spike didn’t give any order, but the weight of the chains on his back told him the right thing to do, so Xander rose to follow without waiting for a command.

Spike hurried down the aisle of vendors who were closing down booths and packing up merchandise, both equipment and unsold slaves. Many of the demons now had humans in tow, most held on short leashes, and Xander knew that Spike was showing an incredible amount of faith by allowing Xander to walk without being leashed. Of course that meant that his heavy chain leash banged at his cock when he walked, but that was a small discomfort compared with the pleasure of following without being jerked around by his neck like the little blonde girl being nearly dragged down the aisle by a M'Fashnik demon who didn’t seem willing to let her catch her balance and follow using her own two feet. Spike walked quickly to the back aisle, and Xander hurried behind, careful to walk perfectly because so many dangling decorations would make any flaw in his posture or walk immediately visible.

Spike stopped, and Xander went to his knees, breathing heavy with the effort to keep up without breaking his stride.

“This place should be able to do it,” Spike said as he walked in, and Xander followed, wishing he could look up at the vendor’s sign and secretly cursing Spike’s ability to speak without actually saying anything. His trainer had been right; some people were just plain annoying when they talked, and Spike was running at the top of his list. When Spike walked up to the counter, Xander went back to his knees as a huge scaled demon brought his hand down on the counter.

“What ya need?” he rumbled.

“Get this,” Spike grabbed the heavy chain hanging from Xander’s collar, “off him.” The demon walked around the counter from the sounds of it, and Xander waited patiently while a hooked claw snagged a link on the chain and pulled it taut.

“Easy enough. Five dollars.”

“Done,” Spike said, and then the leash was tightening and pulling, but Spike hadn’t given a command, so Xander resisted the pull and kept position as best as he could. Just when he thought that the demon would either break his neck or pull him over, the pressure stopped.

“He trained to voice?” the demon asked in a tone that was either growling or laughing, Xander couldn’t decide which.

“Wot?” Spike asked.

“Trained to one voice? Is he trained to only follow his owner’s voice or touch?”

“Oh, don’t rightly know. Pet, are you trained to voice?” Spike asked and Xander would have slapped Spike upside the back of the head if he could. Gee, Spike he thought to himself, thanks for asking before the big demon almost pulled my head off. Instead he kept his eyes lowered and his voice soft as he answered.

“Yes, Master.” No duh, Master. What? Did you think I just wanted a quick game of tug of war, Master?

“Right,” Spike said knowingly. “Follow the demon then, pet.”

“Yes, Master.” Xander rose and stepped up next to the demon as the demon definitely laughed and took him to a machine near the back of the shop. When the demon stopped, Xander went into his kneel.

“This cuts the chain, cub. It won’t hurt you, but if you fight, it may cut you. Do I need to tie you so you don’t get cut?”

“No, sir,” Xander answered as he waited for the grinder to cut the chain. Soon, Xander had little tiny burn marks on his chest from the machine throwing off bits of metal during the cutting, but the heavy chain was gone. The demon led him back and as soon as they got near Spike, Xander left the demon’s side and returned to kneel at Spike’s feet.

“Thanks, mate,” Spike said and rustling paper suggested that money had changed hands. “So, ya ready to go home, pet?” Spike asked, and Xander froze for just a half second before rising to follow Spike who had started out the door.

“Pet?” Spike stopped and asked, and Xander went back to his knees wishing that the vampire would make up his mind about whether or not they were leaving. But he waited patiently for for Spike to ask a question the he could actually answer.

“Did somethin’ bother ya?” Spike asked.

“Yes, Master,” Xander replied, wondering how long it would take for Spike to stop falling into that trap. Suddenly Xander realized that he was thinking this way about his Master, a Master who had shown him a lot of kindness. Xander told himself to stop with the snark thoughts. If he couldn’t control his thoughts and if he became disobedient, he had no doubt that Spike would get his money back out of Xander’s hide, decorations or no decorations. Luckily his Master still had some patience.

“Pet, what is bothering you?”

Xander stopped and thought about a way to explain it. “I’m afraid of going outside,” he said.

“Why?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to run,” Xander replied knowing that his trainer would have whipped him until his back bled for a comment like that. He hoped Spike wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“Do you want to run?” Spike asked, but then cancelled his question almost immediately. “No, never mind. We’ve been down this path before and already established that you don’t want things.” Spike stood silent for several seconds, Xander wondering if the vampire was coming up with punishments or if Spike would put him in his cage until they reached Spike’s home. That’s how he’d been brought to the sale, stacked in a pile with a dozen others, their cages tied one on top of another and a tarp thrown over them before they’d been hauled here by truck.

“Pet, tell me why you might run,” Spike finally settled on.

“I should run; it’s what I would have done before,” Xander said, and he desperately wanted to defend himself from what was a very damning statement, but he held his tongue and if Spike decided to punish him, he would accept it for saying something so terrible.

“But that’s not all,” Spike guessed. After a few seconds of hesitation, Spike ordered, “Tell me why you might not run.” Xander realized that the vampire was giving him a chance to explain himself.

“I feel safe with you and want to stay with you, Master,” Xander honestly replied, and boy wasn’t that just sweet. He had officially just lost his Scooby card he realized.

“So ya want ta stay, but ya feel guilty that ya don’t want ta fight,” Spike summarized, and Xander realized that Spike did understand. Spike turned and re-entered the store, and Xander hurried to his side, kneeling again as the big demon came up to them.

“Heard him,” the demon said without apology or shame. “He’s a good animal.” Xander decided that even if his biology teacher had explained in detail why humans were animals, he was really tired of hearing it.

“Yeah,” Spike’s hand dropped to Xander’s head, and Xander enjoyed the feeling of Spike’s touch, especially after he’d said something terrible enough to earn punishment. “So, I need somethin’ ta help him with this guilt problem. I’m thinking hobbles, somethin’ ta slow him down in either black or red.” Xander internally groaned that his fear from this morning was coming true, but he had told the truth, and he could certainly survive a day or two hobbled. The heavy demon shifted from place to place and Spike took a step forward to lean on the counter, so Xander knee walked to keep himself at Spike’s side. After a few minutes, the demon dragged back and Xander heard a number of things clinking and thudding on the counter.

“This is a nice model, the rod on the bottom makes walking possible but uncomfortable.”

“Not practical. Don’t want bruising on the bottom of the foot.”

“This then?”

“Mate, that’s bloody ugly. Don’t want that on my slave. How’s this one work?”

“Oh, a lovely model. This loop goes over the animal’s genitals so that each step can produce either a little or a lot of pulling on the cock and balls. It keeps them walking slowly and carefully.”

“Yeah, and one trip and you’ve just lost any chance of breedin’ ‘em. I’ve been around my pet long enough that I don’t trust him not to trip.” Xander would have complained about that if he’d been asked. In six months he’d learned to keep track of his body in ways that he’d never even considered, and he no longer tripped through cemeteries staking vampires by falling on them. Of course he’d actually only done that once, so he’d never known why Spike had insisted on telling that story to every demon in Sunnydale.

“This just restricts movement without changing their pace.”

“Attaches to the legs?”

“It would be a lovely addition to his other chains. Very decorative.” Xander really just wanted to point out that he wasn’t a Christmas tree or a dog or a living doll to be dressed up, but since he wasn’t supposed to have wants anymore he amused himself dressing up Spike’s naked body in some of the chains he’d seen on the various slaves walking the mall. Yep, he could imagine Spike looking pretty good in those outfits, and what the hell was he doing mentally playing with a naked Spike. He played with naked Buffy, not naked Spike. Luckily an order cut that little panic attack off.

“Stand up,” Spike ordered, and Xander obeyed as Spike knelt down and attached black cuffs to his legs just above the knees and to his ankles. He could feel Spike adjusting the size with some sort of inner strap before each cuff made an audible click. The black chains ran from knee to knee and from ankle to ankle with decorative chains running down the inside of his legs. Oh yeah, the vampire was having way too much fun playing dress up. Spike gave Xander a slap on the butt and Xander folded into the Position kneel with his knees apart and the chains were perfectly taut.

“We’ll take ‘em,” Spike said and more money changed hands as Xander realized that his concern about running had been solved. He could take normal steps, but he certainly couldn’t run he decided as he followed Spike out the door, carefully keeping his hip chains flowing even as he tried to keep his step short enough to not strain his hobble chains and remain totally still in his upper body so that his back chains and cuff traces didn’t move and who the hell ever thought walking could require so much concentration? Spike must have ordered someone to clean out the room because they headed right out of the quickly closing mall and into the crowded parking lot. For the first time in six months, Xander saw stars and a sliver moon and the distant lights of the city and oh my freaking god he was naked and chained and walking like a harem boy in heat in the middle of a fricken city. Xander took that moment of panic and reminded himself that he didn’t really have a choice. He was Spike’s slave so he couldn’t get in trouble for anything other than displeasing Spike. So, public nudity laws and public humiliation be damned, he was following his Master.

Xander almost laughed when Spike led his $15,000 slave with the expensive decorations to the same old DeSoto with half-painted windows. Spike opened the front passenger door, and Xander considered his options. The hobble kept him from getting in normally, not that he had the nerve to sit in a chair anyway, so he went in head first and used his hands to pull himself into a very messy kneel on the passenger side seat. By the time Spike walked around, Xander had settled himself on the floor kneeling with his back to the dash and his eyes focused on the passenger seat.

“So, you ready to go see Joyce?” Spike asked cheerfully as he got in, but Xander recognized that the question was purely rhetorical, and really he wished it wasn’t because…Joyce?? Spike was taking him to see Joyce?? What about Buffy and Giles and Willow, any of them might be at least somewhat prepared for a brainwashed and totally nut-case type Xander, but Joyce? Personally, Xander didn’t really want any woman to see him chained and sitting at Spike’s feet, so his silent vote had gone to Giles. The man could keep a secret like nobody’s business and he could just imagine the look on Giles’ face when Spike showed up with an obedient Xander at heel. That would make the embarrassment actually worth it. But Joyce? Why the hell would Spike go to Joyce?

As Spike started the car, punk music started and Xander realized that he wasn’t going to get any answers so he would just have to wait and find out when they got there. He tried tucking his hands behind his back, but he really couldn’t with the dash, so he tried pulling them in front to rest on his thighs, but they were uncomfortably jammed against the seat. Xander exhausted his limited options for what to do with his hands in a Down kneel when Spike in the middle of his lyrics called out “Floor.”

Xander tried to find a way of getting his head to the floor, but then he realized what Spike meant. He leaned his body against the seat in front of him and put his head down on it since it was as close to the floor as he could get in close quarters. Now he could tuck his hands behind his back and enjoy the feeling of the delicate back chains pressed between his arm and back. Joyce. He did wonder what the hell the rest of them had gotten up to while he’d had his little vacation from the hell mouth. He just hoped for Joyce’s sake that she wasn’t a shy woman because he’d hate to embarrass Buffy’s mom.

Chapter 5:

The comfortable position and the vibration of the car quickly put Xander into a half-sleep state where he stayed awake only enough to hold position and keep an ear open for commands. He didn’t even move when Spike reached into the back seat and pulled a blanket up, tossing into over Xander’s body, and soon Xander understood why as they entered more heavily trafficked areas.

He listened to the sound of traffic, his forehead on the seat, and tried to guess what type of car made each sound. It was strange the things he had never noticed before that he only now appreciated after being away. He’d always thought of traffic as one noise, but now he found himself enthralled by how many different sounds cars could make.

“Ya all right, pet?” Spike asked when the music stopped, and Xander felt the car swerve as the vampire pushed a pile of CD’s around in the corner of his vision.

“Yes, Master.” Before Xander would have kept position and waited, but the chains at his back comforted him, and so he pushed himself up enough to reach out for the cases that had slid away, landing on the floor or on his side of the car. One by one he returned them to the pile by his Master’s hand until he went to put one with a blue cover down.

“Yeah, that’s the one pet, put it in,” Spike ordered, and Xander opened the case, remembering the feel of the plastic popping under his fingers as he had opened his own music. A beat up DeSoto with a top of the line CD player. Why wasn’t he surprised? Xander hit the eject disc button and “No Disc” flashed right before he put the disc in and settled back into position, careful to keep the blanket over his body since the half-painted windows still could allow someone to see enough to call the police and cause trouble.

“Pet?” Spike asked, and Xander waited for a question that actually asked something. It took a couple of seconds for Spike to sigh and start again. “Pet, why don’t you look at me?”

“It’s against the rules, Master,” Xander said calmly—it’s not like he was the stupid one who kept asking essentially the same question over and over. Spike must have turned off the CD player though, so Xander suspected he wanted to have a talk.

“Pet, look at me,” Spike ordered, and Xander turned his head so that his cheek instead of his forehead rested on the bench.

“Can ya change the rules?” Spike asked.

“No, Master.” Xander knew that he had answered the question technically correct, but he also knew that’s not what Spike wanted to know. He struggled with a way to overcome that, but finally decided that some things Spike was going to have to figure out on his own. He just hoped Spike figured it out before getting frustrated enough to sell him.

“But ya changed the rule about staying in heel,” Spike argued, and Xander just blinked up at his Master wishing he knew how to spell ‘idiot’ in Morse code. Maybe then he could blink it at his Master. Maybe that thought somehow inspired Spike because he suddenly swore and rolled his eyes even as he sent the car swerving again.

“*I* changed the rule about staying in heel,” Spike amended himself and Xander waited for the other piece to now click.

“So, *I* can change rules. Right?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You do know how soddin’ annoyin’ that is, right pet?”

“Yes, Master.” Xander smiled inside even as Spike gave a growl and tugged on a lock of hair, a gesture that was quickly becoming one the vampire’s favorites.

“Okay, what if I order you to talk whenever you want?” Spike asked and then held up a hand to hold off Xander’s response. “No, I’ve been down the bloody ‘want’ road before and I’m not goin’ through that aggravation again. Okay, what if I order you to say what you’re thinking?” Xander stopped breathing for a second, panic nearly overcoming training.

“I would obey, Master,” he said truthfully even while his stomach knotted.

“Okay, I order ya ta always say what ya think,” Spike said triumphantly before looking down into his eyes. Xander moved his gaze to Spike’s leg.

“I think Master is cruel for taking away the one thing that I still have left for myself and it scares me, but I won’t argue because it’s my place to accept Master’s orders. I shouldn’t want to keep things for myself, and I know I earned punishment for thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking,” Xander whispered, as close to crying as he’d been I in a long time.

“Bloody hell,” Spike swore. “I just keep bollocking this up. Xander, I order you to ignore that last order,” Spike said, and Xander started to breathe more easily. “Not what I had in mind, pet.” Xander moved his gaze back up and Spike was pursing his lips.

“I’m just afraid you’re one step from bein’ as loopy as Dru,” Spike finally announced. “Know what I mean?”

“Yes, Master.”

“So, are ya?” Spike asked, and Xander had to really think about that one.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so most days,” Xander explained.

“But some days ya are, like the day I made ya sleep in the closet,” Spike said with another purse of his lips. “Okay, the last order didn’t work so well, so let me try this one. When I ask ya what ya need, not what ya bloody want but what ya need, ya have to tell me what you need to keep from going off that cliff ta the loony bin. That work for you?”

“Yes, Master,” Xander answered, actually grateful for this order. He didn’t have to explain what he wanted, just whatever he needed to not annoy his Master by going totally and irreversibly nuts.

“So, pet. What do you need?” Spike asked, and Xander took his time considering all the possible answers. He shoved a dozen different ideas over into the want column: going back to the man he used to be, erasing the last six months, undoing the whole mentally playing with naked Spike, finding out Buffy had a Dom kink and wanted to keep him, finding himself suddenly able to just stand up talk to someone, feeling safe when he wasn’t at someone’s feet. He took each item and shoved it back into the part of his mind where non-slave thoughts went. When he really thought about it though, there was only one item in the need column, so he finally gave Spike an answer that part of him really didn’t want to admit even to himself, but Master had asked.

“I need a Master,” Xander admitted, knowing it was true but nearly flinching at saying it out loud and making it real. A hand immediately started smoothing his hair away from his face and tracing the edge of his cheek.

“Is it all right if that Master cocks everythin’ up from time ta time?” Spike asked.

“Yes, Master,” Xander answered truthfully, and Spike actually smiled. For the rest of the trip Xander watched his Master alternately swearing at other drivers and singing along with punk music even as he gently petted Xander nearly to sleep. The drive took hours, but eventually the roads grew quieter and the cars fewer. Spike reached over and flicked off the CD player with one hand and pulled out a cell phone with the other while the car was temporarily left to guide itself. Xander found himself grateful for the deeply ingrained habit of accepting anything from his Master without question because otherwise he would have to say something about Spike’s total and complete inability to drive a car.

“We’re right down the street,” Spike announced into the phone without any niceties.

“Yeah,” he answered the voice on the phone before pausing to listen to a long speech on the other end.

“Know that luv. Goin’ ta worry about that later,” Spike finally replied.

“Yeah, well unless you’re up for the peep show, you might want ta give us a clear shot from the garage to the bedroom.” Ah, Xander figured that Spike was talking to Joyce since the vampire had said that’s who they were going to see first. Spike’s voice suddenly grew irritated with whatever Joyce was saying.

“Bloody hell, I soddin’ well never said that. Nice ta know what ya think of me,” Spike snarled, but he actually sounded more hurt than angry.

“About five minutes or so,” Spike said and then snapped the phone shut without even a goodbye. Wow, Spike seriously needed to learn phone manners, Xander thought as the car slowed slightly before making a series of turns onto residential streets. Eventually the car turned and stopped before Spike turned and started digging through the stuff in the backseat, swearing steadily. He finally sat up with a garage door opener in his hand as he opened the garage and pulled in before closing the door behind them. Curiouser and curiouser Xander thought to himself as he watched. Spike not only had an invite but a garage door opener. Spike opened the door and walked around to open Xander’s before helping Xander out of the car by basically lifting him out. Xander didn’t mind the hobbles, but they did make graceful exits from a car difficult.

Xander stood patiently as Spike loaded his arms with a cage, a box of various gear in the cage, and a couple of blankets that smelled of smoke and stale air. Spike grabbed a bag and then slammed the doors.

“Well, let’s get settled in, pet,” Spike suggested as he opened the door and walked into an unfamiliar kitchen. Xander followed, struggling a little on the steps but able to navigate with caution. In the bedroom, Spike waved toward a corner and Xander put his armload on the floor, pulling everything out of the cage and setting it beside it before going to a kneel.

“Best if we didn’t dangle the bits in front of Joyce,” Spike pointed out like Xander hadn’t thought of that. Xander internally rolled his eyes. “So, hobbles off and pants on would be the first order of business. Stand up, then.” Xander stood and stepped into the middle of the room. Within a minute, Spike had stripped the hobbles and handed him a pair of silky black pants that fell somewhere between slacks and expensive pajama bottoms.

“Clean the hobbles before ya put ‘em with the other stuff,” Spike ordered as Xander pulled on the pants and went back to kneel. He watched as Spike picked up a shirt, looked at it and then tossed it back on the bed with a shrug. He guessed that was his way of deciding that Joyce was going to have harder things to deal with than his chains, and in a way, Xander was glad he got to keep his decorations. Of course, in another way he was horrified and terrified that Joyce was going to see him like this, but he thought as he mentally shrugged, there really wasn’t anything that he could do to change who he had become.

Their unpacking done, Spike opened the door and bellowed down the hall. “We’ll be down in a minute luv. Got all his bits covered and we’re just makin’ a pit stop.” Spike walked out of the room, and Xander rose and followed. “Right, human stuff,” Spike said as he gestured toward a door, and Xander went into the bathroom amused that a vampire that could torture with railroad spikes would get so obviously bothered by bodily functions he had once performed. When he’d finished, Xander walked out and found Spike leaning against the wall. Before he had time to kneel, Spike headed down the steps with Xander at heel.

Xander took a deep breath and prepared to watch his old life and his new one collide.

“Oh thank heavens. He’d been gone so long that I couldn’t believe you’d found him.” Xander heard Joyce’s voice, and a wave of relief washed through him. Until now it didn’t feel real, but now he knew he was home. Spike went to the couch, and Xander knelt by his Master’s side, going straight into the Down position since Spike seemed to prefer that to the formal Position kneel. Instead of placing his hands at his knees, he tucked them behind him so he could feel his back chain and remind himself that he didn’t have to fear his trainer’s rules.

“Is he all right?” Joyce asked.

“He’s fine. Just a bit different.” Xander would have snorted at that given half a chance, and the way Spike’s knee nudged him in the arm, he suspected Spike knew it.

“Are you sure I can’t, you know, talk to him?”

“Not really a good idea, luv. He’s had a hard time and might take a while ta get it all figured out in his head.” Ah, so Spike wasn’t going to let Joyce talk to him; that solved a couple of problems. Ever since Spike parked the car he’d lived in dread Spike telling him to mind Joyce only to have her ask some really stupid question like “What happened?” Not only did Xander not want to relive those memories, he really didn’t think Joyce honestly wanted to know.

“Xander, tell Joyce what you’re thinkin’ right now.” Xander mentally groaned, but he obeyed.

“I am hoping you won’t tell me to mind Joyce, Master. I’m afraid she’ll ask me what happened and she wouldn’t like the answer.” The room was silent for a moment.

“Told ya he was still bloody in there. Just had his pieces rearranged a bit.”

“Oh god, he must have been so upset when you told…” Joyce cut off suddenly, obviously some gesture of Spike’s that he couldn’t see with his head down, but the words sent cold fear running through his back. What would he be upset about? What was going on? Where was everyone else? Were they trying to give him space or had something happened?

“Bloody hell, have ta tell him now,” Spike sighed unhappily. Xander resisted the urge to stand up and beat Spike about the head until he started talking. Spike took a deep breath only to not talk for several minutes, and Xander waited in increasing agony.

“Was at the auction lookin’ for Red and Glinda.” Spike said, and Xander felt his stomach curl. They were there? They were slaves? “Told Buffy I’d look for ‘em, and when I saw ya and bought ya, I was afraid you’d open your mouth and tell those gits I worked with the Slayer.” Spike’s voice caught, and Xander could just imagine how difficult it must be for Spike to work with a slayer, so he understood the fact that Spike didn’t want other demons to know. Of course, the whole chip thing still confused him, but maybe Spike would be kind enough to explain before his slave started beating him.

“The Initiative got out of control,” Joyce picked up the story. “Some project took out a lot of the soldiers, and the army sent in teams headed by this new general. We thought they were on our side, but after they shut down this project, the new general started picking up anyone who wasn’t totally human.” Oh god, Xander didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t actually have any friends who were totally normally human. Hell, he wasn’t totally normally human with his soldier and his hyena memories filtering everything. Joyce had stopped now and Xander felt Spike lean against him as he reached over toward her. Xander sneaked a look to find Spike’s hand wrapped around Joyce’s.

“They got me at the Watchers,” Spike now picked up. “Figured I was safe enough there, but they came ta pick up a warlock and got a vampire as a bonus. They got the witches at the store, and tried ta get Anya, but that bint had tricks up her tricks. She took out a van load with some pre-prepared spell and hit the road.” Xander would have smiled at that. His Anya never did let a little thing like common morals or van loads of soldiers get in her way. When he’d finally admitted to her that he loved Buffy and couldn’t hurt her by lying, she’d just dyed her hair blonde and told him that he could love Buffy until he died as long as he didn’t put his penis in Buffy.

“Wankers got a kick out of seeing a vamp work with the slayer, so they had a clever idea and turned off my chip before tossin’ me in with her.” Xander immediately went still. “But I wasn’t goin’ ta kill on their say-so. Told her she had rotten taste in men and made her move over since she was sitting on the only bunk. Xander felt like his heart restarted as his fears proved groundless.

“Eventually the boy toys managed to rile the local demons and they staged a bit of a coup. Got Giles out, not that the wanker appreciates it. Yeah, I’ll tell ya that story later, but let’s leave it at I wouldn’t trust him at my back with a bit of wood.” Spike snorted at his own joke, and Xander waited, fighting down the urge to just demand information.

“He’s so quiet,” Joyce commented. Xander felt a hand at his hair and he just wished Joyce could hear the various questions and curses in his head.

“Yeah, but inside he’s ready ta kill us for not spittin’ it out,” Spike commented with a tug to Xander’s hair. “So by the time I got Giles out of the middle of it, I went back for the witches and they were gone. Some of the demons grabbed the humans and the human half-breeds for themselves. Promised Buffy I’d take care of them, so I will, and I’ll snap the neck of whatever took ‘em.” Xander had trouble breathing at the thought of Willow and Tara going through what he’d endured. Yes, he survived it, but they shouldn’t have to.

“Vamps don’t normally go in for the slave trade, being more the eat and run type demons, so gettin’ an invite was hard, and when I found ya, all I could think was makin’ sure you didn’t make me look so bad I never got into another sale.” Spike’s hand stopped moving, and Xander felt his head tilted back by fingers pulling his hair. He turned his face up to his Master’s and Spike had a serious expression on his face. “Ya made me look soddin’ good—like a regular slave master with his well trained and decorated slave trailing after him. I’ll find doors open now, ‘cause of you, and we’ll find the witches, Xander. We’ll find them and bring them home.” Xander found as he looked into those blue eyes that he couldn’t believe anything else. Spike and Buffy wouldn’t let the girls down, and Xander felt something that came close to pride that he’d helped Spike even unintentionally. The fingers released his hair and he returned to proper form. He hadn’t felt pride over anything more important than swinging hip chains for so long that he didn’t even know how to handle the emotion, so he focused on the need to bring his girls home.

“William, finish the story,” Joyce ordered, and Spike’s hand began to pet him again.

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ there,” he answered defensively. “Buffy and me, the soldiers didn’t get it. They’d send in all sorts of baddies against us and we got ta be good. She was a soddin’ fierce little fighter and always as ready with an insult as a punch. We had a real pattern goin’ and I discovered that when ya got the girl away from college boys and television she was someone I could respect.” Xander almost smiled at the thought of them together, and then his stomach knotted again at the thought of them together. Oh god, that explained why they were at Buffy’s.

Xander felt horror creep up his body as he realized he would be kneeling at Spike’s feet while Spike got to touch Buffy. The thought of being caged and sitting on the dresser while they had sex nearly made his mental shudder a physical one, and Xander struggled to hold on to the fact that he was a slave and he didn’t have a choice. If his Master chose to have him there, he would be there and keep to his training and make his Master look so good that he would get invited to all the sales so they could bring Willow and Tara home.

“Pet,” Xander heard the sadness in his Master’s voice, and he tried to hold on to the belief that had been growing in him that Spike cared something for him. Spike was good to him, so maybe Spike was good to Buffy too. “Pet, they sent in demon after demon. Never gave us a chance ta rest up or feed up; never turned off the lights that made sleepin’ so hard. Slayer had a touch of demon in her bein’ the slayer and all, but she was human and she couldn’t keep going.” Xander’s mind tried to process the information and he continued to reject the picture growing in his head. No, no it wasn’t possible.

“It was a Durslar. He opened her stomach before I had a chance ta do anythin’. She died quick, but I promised her I’d take care of the witches. I owed her that much.” Xander started trembling, not in mind, but in his actual body. He stumbled to his feet, unsteady and unsure what he was even doing, blind in his grief. Buffy dead. Willow and Tara lost and somehow he couldn’t imagine finding them without Buffy and Giles to lead the charge. He stumbled back a step as he found himself swaying in indecision.

“Down.” Xander heard the command and reacted without thought as he fell into position, but then some part of his brain rebelled, forcing him half way to his feet when suddenly he felt as if his mind simply disconnected and he could tell he was falling without actually feeling himself hit the side of Joyce’s couch.

“Pet, down!” The voice demanded, a rap on his head reinforcing the order and Xander’s limbs rearranged themselves without Xander’s participation. He couldn’t survive this—he really couldn’t. For six months he’d lived, he’d held on and fought and he’d kept some small part of his soul because that part had belonged to Buffy. He’d hidden in the memories of the times he’d saved her or she’d saved him. He’d disappeared in his fantasies of surviving only to appear when she most needed him or of her rushing in to kill the demons who had taken him. He thought he had given up hope, but hearing of her death made him realize he had only buried it, and now it was dying. He’d suffered so much that he sometimes couldn’t keep memory and fantasy and reality apart, and now her death somehow threatened all three of them.

He felt strong hands at his shoulders, and he knew he was too late to save her and she would never save him. He opened his mouth to say something, and he found he couldn’t remember how to breathe. He gaped open-mouthed until he felt himself pulled into a lap, a voice he couldn’t resist ordering him to take deep breaths. Then that other part of himself slipped in a thought—the thought that Spike had been there and Spike had held her and Spike had watched her die and Spike had survived after letting her die.

Xander pushed away, pulling up his arm to punch the one who had failed Buffy. It wasn’t his fault he’d walked home after dark unwilling to call for an escort. It wasn’t his fault that his damn stupid ego took him away when she needed him. It was Spike’s fault for not protecting her, but as Xander pulled back his arm, he felt chains slip across his back and he knew he’d failed his Master, dropping his head to the floor and kneeling before his Master as he braced for punishment. All he could hear was the crooning voice shushing him.

“Spike,” Xander whispered. “Master.”

“I’m here, pet. Tell me what ya need.” Xander started to rise only to fall back into a Floor kneel.

“I…” Xander stumbled, “don’t know,” he finally admitted weakly. The only things that would fix this pain were beyond anyone’s reach, even his Master’s.

“I know what ya need; it’s okay, pet.”

Xander felt himself lifted and carried up the stairs, now helplessly out of control, shaking and struggling to regain his self-discipline as his panic at disobeying now vied with his agony at how much he had lost. As long as he had been in his trainer’s care, the Scoobies had existed for him, and now he lost even that illusion. And he hadn’t even lost her to some heroic and destined fight, just a bunch of bigots.

Xander felt himself lowered and hands at his waistband as he struggled to get back to his knees.

“Spread,” the voice commanded, and Xander rolled to his stomach, his arms moving away from his body and his fingers spreading. Hands pulled on his pants, sliding them down his legs and preventing him from going into proper position, but as soon as the fabric cleared his feet, he spread his legs allowing himself to focus on the coming punishment instead of the pain of loss. Hands unhooked his back chains, and Xander worked at holding the perfect position, just focus on holding the perfect position and the punishment wouldn’t last as long. After the cool weight of the chains disappeared, he felt the band around first one arm and then the other loosen before they were slipped down and past his hands, the leather forcing his fingers slightly closer together before pulling free and allowing Xander to return to correct form. Xander heard a metallic click.

“In,” the voice commanded and Xander tried, his body suddenly disjointed, his knees unable to hold his weight. He felt hands at his hips moving him into position, and Xander started sliding back into the cage because the cage was the one thing he couldn’t fight. The case was acceptance. He wiggled backwards, impaling himself without thought and when he felt the ankle bracket trap him in place, he started breathing. Accept—that’s all he had to do. He didn’t make choices; he didn’t have choices; he couldn’t choose wrong. The wrist strap pulled his arms to the top of the cage and then Xander noticed Spike sitting cross legged in front of the cage.

“Who am I pet?” Spike asked in such a serious tone that for a space of a blink Xander honestly believed the vampire didn’t know.

“My Master,” Xander answered quietly. The pain flowed through him like ocean waves cresting and slamming into his soul, but he just had to accept, nothing else was expected.

“Do I need to put the front on?” Spike asked, holding out the t-shaped bar. Xander thought about how much he wanted to scream and cry and swear at Spike and how much he feared making any noise at all. He looked right at Spike as he answered.

“Yes, Master.” Spike brought the bar up as Xander opened his mouth feeling the familiar metal slip into place before the plastic pieces slipped under his top teeth and his jaw. Spike locked the crossbar with a familiar click, and Xander finally let the tears slide down his face. He had hoped for privacy, but Spike sat down leaning against the cage so that Xander felt the familiar leather at his fingertips. Acceptance. He only had to accept.

“She cried for ya, cried more nights than I can count. She used ta show up at the Watcher’s smellin’ all salty.” Spike’s voice had dropped into a half whisper, and Xander let the words wash in, the pain of reality replacing the pain of his lost fantasies. Xander felt a hand brush his hair out of his eyes and wipe his damp cheeks in an oddly maternal gesture. “Red too. Girl wore herself out lookin’ up more locator spells until the Watcher finally took her aside and told her it was hopeless.” Xander allowed a fresh set of tears to flow as he directly broke the rules by reaching through the top bars to clutch at the tiny fragment of Spike’s coat that he could reach.

“They loved ya, and we’re goin to bring Red and Glinda home, pet. We’ll give Buffy her last wish,” the voice continued, but Xander retreated until the voice became a distant comforting droning. Normally Xander withdrew into some happy memory: Buffy’s green bikini or the day they’d faced down hell and graduated: two events Xander never expected to see. Now Xander sought pain, memories of pain strong enough to make him forget the current agony.

He remembered the cold concrete crushing the skin of his kneecaps, the pain of the drying and shrinking leather strings tied around the various parts his body, the incessant itch on his right thigh where the first tie had been placed before Xander had figured out the game, and his Position kneel left him staring at the purpling skin so swollen that the shrinking leather had cut through flesh and muscle, yellow and red trails down his leg, the fluid oozing down and slipping into dozens gouges caused by strings on that leg, some dry and embedded in his flesh, others still wet and simply denting the skin. He remembered the agony of his hand, the finger that had flipped off his trainer cut to the bone by a band of dry leather, the finger black and immobile and smelling of rot, the whole hand mottled and dying from the string at the wrist. He remembered the blood he slipped in as he tried to move from one position to another at his trainer’s command. Not his blood but hers. He remembered going to the Spread position, his forehead sticking to the ground, his eyes trying to not see her twisted form. He remembered, and still the memory couldn’t completely erase the thought of Buffy with her stomach torn open while those bastards watched. He fell asleep and dreamed of soldier’s faces on a torn body as he knelt in military blood. He fell asleep and dreamed of soldier’s faces as they faced his trainer’s leather strings. He fell asleep and dreamed of seeing Riley’s face staring at him from his own cage. He fell asleep still hearing his Master’s voice drone on softly.

Chapter 6:

“Oh my.” Xander woke at the softly spoken words, but he had no response to Joyce’s obvious horror since he was still caged. God, how much did the woman have to suffer, he wondered. She had lost her daughter, obviously taken in an emotionally unbalanced vampire, and now she had the nutcase in the cage to deal with. Of course, this is a woman who once threw a party attended by more dead people than live ones, so maybe seeing him in a cage wasn’t that big of a deal. He really couldn’t bring himself to believe it considering the expression on her face. He felt a stirring around his cage and he realized that Spike had fallen asleep lying on the cage.

“Oi, don’t start,” Spike said even as Joyce handed him a mug of something.

“I said I wouldn’t be judgmental of him, and I won’t be. My disapproval is aimed entirely at you, William.” Joyce’s mildly indignant tone reminded him of the way she used to scold Buffy for sending a demon though the living room window with no more vigor than other mothers complained about a scratch on the car. Xander felt another wave of pain, but this time just one more surge in the grief that was his life. The flood waves had passed.

“Bloody hell, it’s too damn early for this. Sun’s still up, innit?” From the sound, Xander could tell Spike was pushing himself up and he missed the feel of leather brushing against his fingers. He had expected Spike to free him, but instead the vampire lifted him up to the top of the dresser so that he was now chest high to them and he could more clearly see Joyce’s dismay. Yep, leave it to Xander to bring joy and happiness into others’ lives, he thought to himself.

“I don’t really care about the sun considering Xander is stuffed in that cage like a contortionist.” Joyce stood there looking so much like one of those perfect T.V. moms who always knew when the kids stole the cookies, that Xander found himself wishing he had been her son. Of course that would have made the whole Buffy thing really ew, and Xander felt another surge of pain. Buffy never had brothers or sisters, and now she would never have sons or daughters. She had been the slayer, and now that she was dead, another slayer got called and the council moved on. There was nothing left of her but a group of pathetic people looking to each other for some sort of comfort. He could see that in the way Joyce used her best mother voice on the vampire.

“Ya saw him last night, so ya know soddin’ well I had to do somethin’.”

“And ‘something’ included torturing him after everything he’s been through?”

“Not bloody torturing him.”

“Looks like torture to me.”

“Torture involves more screamin’ and beggin’.” Spike’s voice had an odd echo, and Xander imagined he was talking while drinking his blood.

“Hard to scream gagged like that.”

Xander listened to the argument slightly shocked. He’s always figured that if Spike got the chip out, he’d take a nice long trip to the sunniest place he could find: the Sahara desert maybe. But here was Joyce going at the vampire without even a qualm. Nervy woman, but then again she’d raised Buffy so what else could Xander expect.

“Joyce, he’s not hurtin’. Well, he is hurtin' which is why he’s in the cage, but he’s hurtin’ from losing the slayer and his little friends and his dreams about comin’ back and bein’ able ta go back to what he was all gone in one stroke. Shouldn’t have told him everythin’ at once.” Xander closed his eyes for just a moment as Spike ran a hand through his hair and then he opened them and watched his Master’s expression. If he’d ever thought of Spike seeing him, and he could admit that he had thought it once or twice, he’s always imagined Spike laughing at him or making him do something horrible. Instead Spike continued to pet him as he looked down with an unreadable expression.

“William, get him out of the cage.” Spike turned around, and Xander now had a view of a leather coat and very little else.

“Joyce, ya need ta trust me on this one,” Spike asked, and the two of them were silent for several minutes. Xander of course simply added to the silence even as he wondered if it would have been better if he’d been sold to someone else. His presence was obviously making everything more difficult, so maybe everyone would have been happier if he’d gone to some nameless demon and been left to slowly lose his fantasies to time instead of having them ripped away. However, Xander had to accept that it wasn’t his choice, he just had to accept whatever life that Spike handed him.

“Spike, I trust you with my life, and I trust your intentions, but he’s human, and I'm not sure I trust you with his recovery. He needs to start being Xander again.”

“So, ya want me ta get him an apartment and a job and send him out to do the nine ta five thing?” Spike asked, and Xander felt his stomach start to ache, but he really didn’t have a vote, so he just worked at calming his panic at the mere thought of Spike turning him away like that.

“That might be best. We could get him some therapy, maybe some live-in help to get him adjusted back to being Xander.”

“Joyce,” now Spike sounded tired. “He isn’t Xander anymore, no more than I’m William, and you’ve got ta accept that and move on from there.” Xander blinked rapidly at that comment.

“You still have a lot of William down in you,” Joyce replied softly.

“And he’s still got a lot of Xander in there, but it’s not the same as him bein’ Xander. He’s not Xander, and if ya ask him to be, he’ll kill himself tryin’ ta make ya happy, but it won’t change the fact he’s not Xander.”

“He shouldn’t be in the cage.” It didn’t escape Xander’s attention that Joyce had done a sudden shift in conversation the type Buffy had once used to distract Giles from her lack of practicing or prevent her mother from asking about grades. He let the wave flow through his soul, giving himself permission to grieve for her loss and his own small part in it. Of course, if he’d stayed, he just would have been one more victim to get picked up, prodded, poked, and then captured and enslaved by demons. Ironic that. He was saved from being captured by being captured.

“Xan needs the cage right now, Joyce.”

“No one needs that kind of torture. Maybe you don’t remember what it’s like to be human, but no human needs *that*.”

“Oi,” Spike hissed and then the silence fell as Spike breathed deeply, something Xander hadn’t noticed him doing before. Eventually Spike started again, and Xander could hear the placating tone.

“Imagine you’ve been in a closet for six months and every time ya come out ya get beaten or tortured or made to…perform. You’d get mighty fond of that closet after a while.”

“I’m aware that he has an attachment, but it’s not healthy. We should find him a therapist…”

“No,” Spike cut her off using a harsher voice than Xander had ever heard the vampire use toward Joyce. “No therapist is going to soddin’ understand what he went through. Leshar employs a bloody Pockla demon—they do the type of healing mojo that ya need when you’ve done real damage ta the body like pulling out someone’s guts or ripping off a limb. You don’t effin’ know what can be done ta a body when ya got a way of puttin’ it back together at the end. So he bloody feels safe in that effin’ awful cage and it doesn’t matter whether you or I think the thing should be turned ta scrap, he *does* need it and if ya can’t accept that, I’ll take him elsewhere.” In the middle of the rant, Spike started pacing, his hands clutching into fists and his game face slipping into place so that Xander felt real fear for Joyce, but now that Spike had moved, he could see her standing her ground, hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of Buffy’s frustrated pose.

“William,” she started.

“No. I’m not kiddin’. I don’t want ta leave, but one good shove and we’re sendin’ him right off the edge, so maybe it’d be better if we just packed up and found another place ta lay up for a while.

“Spike,” Joyce started again, but she fell silent when Spike continued on his rant.

“Need ta get out of this bloody town. I’m a soddin’ vamp; I shouldn’t be carin’ about people or tryin’ ta take care of ‘em. I should be out there snacking on a couple of locals, not drinkin’ bagged blood and arguin’ over how ta fix Droopy.” Xander simply looked on, but his Master’s use of that old hated term made him happy he was in the cage, unable to react and unable to earn punishment.

Xander could see how much Spike didn’t want him as a slave. Xander blinked a couple of times as he discovered that something else could hurt him as much as Buffy’s death. He really hadn’t ever been the brightest, had he? He had chased Buffy until she had turned him down cold and gone running around town with an Initiative soldier, and he’d made up this whole relationship with Spike that didn’t even exist; of course the vampire had given him the decoration and kept his slave by his side considering Spike wanted the girls back. Xander promised himself that he’d stop lying to himself and just accept that his Master needed him to impress the other slave-owners and nothing more. He’d do it; he’d obey and he’d help get Willow and Tara home and maybe then he could just ask Spike to make it all end. Slaves didn’t get old, so Xander hadn’t ever expected to live more than a couple of decades, but a couple of decades could be so very long. If he obeyed and helped, maybe he could ask his Master for a quick death by fangs rather than a trip to another slave auction.

“Spike you are not the kind of man to walk away from your word, and that doesn’t make you less of a vampire. What’s the body count now?” Xander had to mentally replay the last part, convinced he had missed something in his self-pitying rambles.

“Seventeen, or eighteen really. Xan took out Riley, so I’m countin’ that as one for the home team.” Eighteen what, Xander wondered. Dead soldiers? Would Joyce talk that way about dead soldiers?

“He killed Riley?” Xander would have expected a question like that to sound horrified, shocked, condemning, but Joyce simply sounded curious.

“Captain Cardboard got vamped. I’m just sorry I didn’t find him before he got used as Xander’s visual aide in the auction.” Joyce just looked confused. “They were billin’ him as a great vampire hunter turned pet, so they had him demonstrate his skills on soldier boy. Xan went all trembly and shaky lookin’ and then when Riley rushed in convinced of a quick kill, Xan staked him so quick and clean a couple of the audience members missed the whole fight. That’s when I knew he wasn’t as broken as Leshar’s normal lot.” Joyce gave a small strained laugh.

“I suppose there’s justice in that somewhere,” she said, and then she walked over. Xander watched her approach passively, determined to return to his training and not let himself get confused again by his place. He was Spike’s property.

“He really feels safe in this horrible thing?” Joyce reached out and touched his forehead as though checking for fever, and Xander simply waited and tried to take the part of himself that longed for touch and put it in the back of his mind with all the other non-slave thoughts. He was a slave and slaves just accepted, isn’t that what his trainer had whispered to him as he’d stood outside Xander cage first stroking Xander’s hair and then driving the thin metal rod into the fleshy part of his shoulder? As a slave it was his duty to accept both forms of attention equally, and Xander reminded himself of that lesson, a lesson he’d studied hundreds of times before learning. Accept whatever comes. Spike didn’t understand the cage. It wasn’t about feeling safe because his trainer had used the open front to hurt him with sharpened rods and hot irons as often as he’d comforted him with gentle strokes and a healing touch that erased all the little pains. No, the cage wasn’t safe, it was acceptance.

When he was in the cage he didn’t have to worry about doing the right thing, about bringing punishment down on himself, about being the one to blame for a nameless girl’s death as he knelt in her blood. In the cage he didn’t have to fight or feel guilty for not fighting or hate his own stupidity for fighting when it was so obviously pointless to fight. In the cage he got to let go of all that and just existed. His trainer and now his Master could do whatever, and he couldn’t stop or fight or submit. He just accepted that he was a tool for Spike so he could live up to his promise to Buffy, and that should be enough for him. That was more than he ever expected to have. Seeing Spike had just made him feel more and want more and he had to get over that.

“He asked for the soddin’ thing,” Spike said, and now he came over to put a strong hand on Xander’s shoulder. Xander silently watched his Master.

“I don’t know if I can take this,” Joyce finally admitted, the hand pulling back slowly as though afraid that the cage would reach out and grab her if she moved too suddenly.

“Maybe we really should go somewhere else, luv. It’s not like you haven’t already been through enough.”

“No. No, I want you here.” Joyce’s hand returned to his forehead, but Xander continued to watch Spike. “He’s the beginning, and now we’ll get the others back. I just never expected...” Joyce took a deep shuddering breath. “Will the girls…” She stopped, but Xander knew what she meant. Would the girls be absolute nut cases ready for the loony bin the way the boy is?

“Witches are valuable for their magic. They’ll be taught not ta turn on whoever owns them, be…convinced…to obey, but breakin’ a witch makes her almost worthless for doin’ magic. I suspect they’ll get along a whole sight better than Xander.”

“How can people do this?” Joyce sounded on the verge of tears and turned and left without even waiting for an answer.

“Bloody hell if I know,” Spike answered the empty doorway through which she had disappeared.

“Right,” Spike said with energy as though shaking off the mood left by Joyce’s visit. “Here’s how it goes. If I let ya out and you show you’ve gotten control back, you’ll stay out. If I let ya out and ya start sliding toward the short side of sanity, you’ll take care of your human business and go right back in, got it?” Spike asked as he leaned down and went nose to nose with Xander, but Xander gave the same response he always gave in the cage: he blinked.

“I’ll take that as a ‘Yes, Master,’” Spike said as he lifted the cage back down to the floor. Spike unhooked the front and pulled it out before setting it to one side and undoing the other restraints. Xander wiggled out and went into a full Position kneel at Spike’s feet: head down, back straight, kneeling up straight with his hands behind his back. He tried to review everything his trainer had told him as he waited for a signal.

“So, I’m takin’ that as you havin’ control,” Spike commented, and Xander waited. Spike finally started talking again. “Right, bathroom for human stuff,” he ordered, and Xander rose as gracefully as he could and padded toward the bathroom with his head bowed and his hands at the small of his back. Once in the bathroom, he quickly used the toilet and showered and drank as much water as he could since Spike had spoken of putting him back in the cage. Within ten minutes he was once again kneeling at his Master’s feet. A tap on his head sent him into the Down kneel with his butt on his heels, but he left his hands behind his back as he waited and tried not to move. His Master shouldn’t be bothered with him, and he hoped Spike did order him back to the cage because he was finding it hard to just accept that Spike didn’t want him.

“Oi, you’re back ta being the perfect little slave,” Spike commented as a hand found his hair, and Xander realized that he had slid away from his training in the three days that Spike had owned him. He’d slip into the more comfortable Down kneel without order, he’d try to get his Master to do things for him, and he wasn’t serving as he’d been trained to serve. Xander accepted the criticism in silence.

“Feelin’ guilty about the scene last night?” Spike asked, and Xander suddenly remembered that he’d tried to hit Spike. He’d already been ordered into the Down kneel so he couldn’t put his forehead to the floor in shame.

“Yes, Master,” he replied in his quietest voice.

“We all want her back, pet.” Silence descended again.

“What do ya need, pet?” Spike asked, and Xander tried doing a self check. He didn’t need anything, he’d accepted, or at least he was trying to accept, and that’s all he needed.

“Nothing, Master.”

“Nothin’ my arse. Ya need something so bad I can hear the wheels in your head spinning.” Xander knew what he was thinking about, but it really wasn’t his place to ask, and Spike certainly hadn’t asked a question.

“I expect honesty from you, so tell me what ya need.”

“Something I have no right to ask for, Master.” Xander answered honestly, but Spike’s sigh made it clear that he didn’t like the answer. “A promise, Master?” Xander nearly whispered the request, knowing that it was almost sacrilege for a slave to ask for a promise, but Spike had wanted to know what it took to keep Xander sane, and Xander suspected that he needed the promise because sanity was running a little thin.

“What do ya need?” Spike asked again, and the tone did it. The concerned tone that reached into Xander’s head and made him think that Spike might actually care even knowing the way the vampire felt. The truth bubbled out of Xander at such a speed that it had escaped before he even had time to regret that he wasn’t in the cage where forbidden thoughts couldn’t come out in an unguarded moment.

“I know you just need me to find Willow and Tara, and I promise to be the perfect slave even though you don’t want one, and if you want to just send me to another room I promise not to start talking to stars or breaking my training, but when we have the girls back please don’t send me back to the auction, Master.” Xander took a deep trembling breath before finishing. “Please just drain me, Master.”

Xander thought he had earned the biggest punishment in the history of slavery when a hand reached down and grabbed his arm, but Spike pulled him up and into the vampire’s lap where Spike wrapped strong arms around him and held him until Xander couldn’t even comfortably breathe.

“Bloody hell. I’m going to find Leshar and I’m going to pull his soddin’ internal organs out one at a time. I won’t promise ta kill him because I’m going to let my slave have the pleasure of doin’ that, but I’ll make him sorry he ever touched ya, pet.” Spike started gently rocking, and Xander tensed, the kindness too much for him to take. For the first time he actively fought Spike, trying to pull away, but Spike just held him until Xander could feel the tears trailing down his cheeks.

“I bloody remember sayin’ somethin’ like that ta Angelus. Poof had gone and gotten his soul, and Darla sent him out into the night. I went running after him, begged him ta take me with him. He may’ve been a sadistic son of a bitch, but he’d taught me ta hunt and I’d kill a hundred humans ta get one ‘That’s me boy,’ out of that Irish bastard. He took one look at me and told me ta get away from him. I told him he’d have ta stake me, and I blocked his way, but he just knocked me into the wall so hard I blacked out. By the time I came round, he was gone, and I think that’s when William died too. Became Spike that night. Spike went with Darla and ate the damn gypsy women and children, but I never cared for anyone the way I cared for that bastard, not even Dru.”

Xander listened and realized that Spike was sharing something that wasn’t even in the Watcher’s diaries because Xander had sneaked into Giles’ office often enough to know that the Watchers had no clue what had caused Spike’s sudden personality shift, a shift they had described but not explained. That’s what Spike had meant about William not existing anymore.

“Master?” Xander half sobbed, not willing to trust his own conclusions any more.

“You’re mine, pet. You’ll be mine until the day one of us dies, and if I have anythin’ ta say about that, the day won’t ever come. I know you’re not Xander any more, and I’m bloody grateful because that git talked too much and never trusted himself ta do anythin’ right. Was annoyin’. Nearly as annoyin’ as this other git I knew who wanted ta please everyone so much he made a soddin’ fool out of himself. But you’re you now, and we’re goin’ ta figure it out.” Spike’s voice became clearer. “Down,” he said and Xander slipped off into the Down kneel.

“So, let’s start ya with somethin’ Droopy never was good at: swords.” Spike stalked over to the closet and pulled out two long swords in black leather scabbards. “Droopy never listened well enough ta get the hang of them, and he never seemed ta be on speakin’ terms with his body; he was about as graceful as a pregnant ox. You, however don’t have those faults, so I think this new person you’re goin’ ta be could be one hell of a sword fighter.” Spike walked over and dropped a sword on the floor in front of Xander. Xander’s hand started reaching before he pulled it back in horror, realizing that he was breaking the rules only minutes after promising himself to not break rules.

“Ya can have that later, I think clothes are in order first.” Xander hadn’t noticed his nudity before, but he did now and he pulled on the jeans and boots Spike tossed his way. Joyce must have gone shopping once Spike called. The jeans wouldn’t have fit him at all before he lost weight in his trainer’s care, so Xander suspected that the vampire had given Joyce his new dimensions.

“Before I give ya the shirt, we gotta do something else.” Spike said, a blue shirt still hanging from his hand and delicate black chains hanging from the other. Spike tossed the shirt on the bed. “Pet, stand with your back to me.” Xander had knelt to tie his boots, so he rose and stood with his back to Spike.

“Tell me why I gave you these in the first place.”

“For following you around even when you acted like a git and forgot to give me the right command, Master,” Xander answered, and boy wouldn’t his history teacher have appreciated a Xander Harris who listened that well. Xander had known he was broken, but he always seen it as a choice between rebuilding Xander Harris or staying broken. He’d never considered Spike’s solution.

“Oi,” Spike complained even as Xander felt hands at his collar. “Ya don’t bloody have ta remember that well.” The hands finished, and Xander felt the chains resting against his back, the small gems tickling his backbone. “Gave them to ya because ya did what I wanted and ya didn’t let trainin’ or fear stop ya. That’s why you’re stronger than Leshar and that’s why ya bloody well survived him, whether he realized it or not.” Xander thought about that and for the first time in months, he felt at peace.

“So, shirt and then fighting,” Spike announced brusquely. “See ya downstairs.” The vampire turned and left before Xander could even pull his brain out of the happy fog he’d entered. Realizing that his Master was waiting, Xander slipped on the shirt and hurried downstairs.

Xander found Spike at the dining room table, and he went to the Down position since Spike always signaled him down anyway. Joyce was sitting at the table carefully watching him, and Xander caught small glances at her before a piece of sausage appeared before him. He reached out and started following his training, but he suddenly realized what that would look like to Joyce. If they were eating with demons, the demons would be impressed with Xander’s training, and Spike would be able to get some relief by having Xander finish the job under the table like at the food court at the auction. But here Joyce would be horrified and Spike would be frustrated without being able to relieve that frustration.

Xander limited himself to taking the food and chewing, omitting the NC-17 portion of the meal. As soon as he took the food, he felt a tug as Spike grabbed the upper stone hanging from his back chain and gave it a quick tug. Xander understood the gesture’s tacit approval of his decision to break training, and when a piece of dry pancake appeared, Xander simply took the food. The meal continued until Xander was past the point of full, and then Spike stood up and picked up the plate they had both eaten from. Xander stood and followed as the big bad master vampire took his plate into the kitchen and loaded it into the dishwasher before returning to the dining room.

“We’re goin’ out for a bit of trainin’, luv. Won’t be back until late—near sun up probably.”

“Have fun, boys.” Joyce answered as if her two teenage boys had announced they were going to the Bronze. The woman really had seen too much of the weird, Xander thought as he followed Spike up to their room to retrieve the weapons and leave.

A half hour later, Xander followed his Master, glad for something to think about other than his own mistakes, other than Buffy, other than the loss of his girls and the disappearance of Anya, and how pathetic was it that he wasn't calling Anya one of his girls, but then he really was more of Anya's than Anya ever was his. He might not have been broken back then, but he'd had cracks. Anya had seen those cracks and moved in, offering to help hold him together in return for frequent orgasms, and now that he looked back, things really hadn't changed that much he mused as he followed his Master toward the largest of Sunnydale's cemeteries.

The weight of the sword at his back and the stake tucked into his jeans reminded him eerily of following Buffy into the dark, trusting her to spot the vamps as he concentrated on covering her back, and when all else failed, falling down and distracting the vampires with the scent of him bleeding.

"Right. Not goin' ta have some helpless cub followin' me around, so let's get ya ta use that sword for somethin' other than swinging around your head," Spike said as they reached a grassy area. Xander would have pointed out that he really was better at the bleeding and distracting portion of vamp hunting, but he hadn't been asked his opinion, so if his Master wanted him to fight with a sword, he'd do it.

If he'd expected Spike to take it easy on the poor little broken slave, Xander got over that delusion quite quickly. Spike would show him how to do a particular move, and no sooner would Xander master it, careful to listen to Spike's every word and instruction, than Spike would change his own defensive moves and send Xander crashing to the ground again. While Spike wasn't technically punishing him, the physical blow of getting slammed into the ground by a vampire and the pain of disappointing his Master combined to drive Xander back up to his feet determined to not fall again. Of course that determination didn't prevent Spike from taking him out time after time until Xander was panting for breath.

"Stop tryin' ta avoid hittin' me," Spike snarled, and Xander realized with a start that he had been avoiding the killing moves Spike had shown him. "I'm already bloody dead ya git, and if ya can get the sword through *me*, I'll trust ya ta be able to get it through some soddin' demon. So come at me again and this time mean it."

Xander squared his shoulders and moved his feet into an attack position as he brought the sword up. Over and over Spike had surprised him by ending a formal sword attack with a punch or kicking a leg out from under him, so Xander decided to take a lesson from his Master's approach. Xander moved in, carefully shifting and watching Spike for signs of frustration that could lead to an opening. For a second, Spike's left hand dropped, but Xander ignored it having been flattened after going after a feign once too often.

Without warning, Xander drove forward, and Spike blocked his move; however, instead of trying to regain control of his blade, Xander let the sword fall and swung in with his stake while Spike was still off guard with surprise. Xander slammed the stake in low in the stomach, not wanting to risk any sort of accident, but the move worked and Spike went reeling back.

“Bloody hell!” Spike yelled, and Xander instantly knelt, his head to the ground.

“Not this bollocks,” Spike wearily ordered, and Xander looked up to see the vampire pulling the bloody stake from his stomach. “Told ya you could learn. Just didn’t soddin’ expect ya to learn so bloody quick.” Spike held the stake out to Xander, and Xander took it, slightly bothered by the sight of his Master’s blood, but reassured by Spike compliment. Xander rose and retrieved his sword, wiping it as Spike had shown him before replacing it.

“Well, I guess you handle that thing well enough for some vamps or lower demons,” Spike suggested as he poked tentatively at his own stomach. “Let’s go take care of the hell mouth, pet.”

By the time Xander followed Spike home, he had killed three vamps and knocked Spike on his back twice more. Of course, he had hit the ground so many times he couldn’t even really count, but he was the weak human slave, so anyone would expect him to go down, the surprise was that Xander could take Spike down at all, and tonight he’d done it a total of three times. They walked back to the house a couple of wounded warriors returned from battle, and Xander began to believe they really would bring the girls home. He silently added his own promise to his Master’s and only hoped that Buffy could hear him. Of course, if she could, she was probably laughing her ass off, but that was okay too, he decided.

They hadn’t gotten any farther than the living room when Joyce’s voice stopped them.

"Spike, explain why Xander looks like abstract art," Joyce said in a calm and even voice that obviously provided a thin veneer for some serious mom-anger. Xander looked down and noticed the scrapes and grass stains and red spots and bruises visible on his arms and the portion of his back showing where Spike’s sword had caught the hem and ripped half the shirt off. Spike had stopped in the hall to talk, and Xander had gone to his knees without even realizing it.

"We were fightin'," Spike said, and from his place at Spike's feet Xander could imagine the vampire's shrug.

"Fighting as in you beating him black and blue?"

"Fightin' as in him learnin' ta use a sword without dropping it on his own foot."

"Spike," Joyce paused for a long time before starting again. "Spike, he's human and you have to keep that in mind."

"Pet, tell her what ya think of our lesson today," Spike ordered, and Xander had an immediate response.

"I knocked Master on his ass," he answered happily.

"Oi, and Master knocked you on your ass about a hundred times, let's not forget that part now pet." Xander didn't smile, but he felt one inside.

"He could have been hurt. What am I saying? He *is* hurt."

"He'll heal fine, and he's a good deal less likely ta get himself killed in a fight now."

"William," Joyce said in a shocked voice, and her use of Spike's human name reminded Xander of Angel--that same disapproval. "You can't take him out fighting with you."

"What? I should leave him here on his knees while I go out?" Spike demanded in a suddenly cold tone. "He needs ta be of use someway other than on his knees or you'll never get back any part of the Xander you knew."

"But he's so bruised, after everything he's been through....Spike, are you sure? I’m so scared we’re doing the wrong thing here."

"I know ya are,” and the warmth returned to Spike’s tone. “The best way ta make sure he stays broken is to act like he *is* some broken toy that ya have ta treat like glass. He's a hell of a lot stronger than you're givin' him credit for, and those bruises aren't goin' ta bother him. However, if those bruises help him avoid gettin' himself skewered by some demon in a fight, I'll consider them worth it."

Spike's hand suddenly found his hair, but instead of just petting him, the vampire pulled him off balance so that he half fell against Spike's legs, resting on his butt instead of his knees. At first he panicked, eager to get back into position, but Spike's hand held him firm, and he wouldn't fight Master so he eventually settled into the new position even though it was uncomfortable for him to be so casually leaning against his Master' s leg. As soon as Xander relaxed, he felt Spike's hand release his head and begin stroking his hair. Xander stayed where his Master put him, sitting on the floor with his legs to one side and his head leaning against his Master's thigh.

"But..."

"No 'buts.' He's mine, and I'm not going to turn him into little tiny pieces of broken bits because I'm tryin' ta ignore what happened or treat him like he's not one soddin' strong little bastard who deep down won't give up no matter what. Besides, I'll give him a touch of my blood tonight, and it'll only take a day for those ta heal up."

"I would suggest you stay home tomorrow then. If Giles is out on patrol and sees Xander looking like that...." Joyce didn't finish, but Xander could feel the tension in the room.

"Yeah, I know, luv." Spike finally answered, and Xander wondered what had happened that they weren't telling him. He tried not to think about what would be so horrible that they would hide it even after telling him about Buffy. "It looks like you're stuck with us tomorrow."

"I can live with that," Joyce answered with such tenderness that Xander was surprised. Spike had always been close to Joyce, talking to the woman about his frustrations and love life even when he'd been the big bad to everyone else, but now they shared a comfortable silence and a language of half-spoken sentences that spoke of a deep sense of family. Xander wondered at how much could change in just six months. Without another word, Spike headed for the stairs, and Xander rose to follow. The windows were still dark, but they'd been out for a long time, and Xander was loose, his muscles well stretched and limber, his body aching but not the way a beating would leave him aching. This was the well-earned soreness of a tough training session, and Xander appreciated every ache. He appreciated that Spike trusted him to take care of himself and didn't look at him like a tortured puppy. He appreciated that Spike had given him something to think about other than the pain in his heart.

Spike threw open the door to their room, not bothering to close it since Joyce’s room was in the other end of the house, and Xander decided to repay his Master for everything his Master had done to help him.

--Go on with the story--