Broken Revenge
Story by Lit Gal, beta'ed by Velvet Virago
Xander/Spike: Slavery, D/s, Hurt/Comfort, Reference to past torture, Bondage
......NC-17 (not kidding, stop now if you're easily squicked)
Xander walked slightly behind Spike through the muggy night air. Even through he wore jeans, he found his hips involuntarily twitching in time with the hip chains he wasn't wearing. Instead the straps holding his precious soluna knives tight against his thighs rubbed a small sore spot on the inside of his upper leg, but Xander ignored that in favor of enjoying in Spike's running commentary on the stupidity of the fledges whose dust Xander could still taste on his tongue.
He subconsciously swung his hips a little more enthusiastically in the post fighting high. He honestly wished Spike would just take him home and they could work the energy off in a game of strip tag, but his Master had given his word to deliver Xander to Willow's house for a visit, which explained why they strode down the sidewalk toward Willow's quiet neighborhood. Then again, most of Sunnydale was pretty quiet for a Hellmouth without a slayer.
He wondered what others saw when the two of them walked down the street. The Master Vampire and his killer pet? Two killers looking for prey? Champions patrolling their territory? Xander remembered when he had been one of the people who ran for safety after dark, although his safety was often the slayer which technically wasn’t all that safe. However now he could imagine how he looked with his hands inside the light leather coat he wore to hide his knives and stakes and various other weapons.
Demons used to look at him and dismiss him as the trivial, unimportant one, and now when he and Spike confronted some orange slimy demon trying to raise the dead, that demon looked back and forth between them trying to decide who to fear more. Xander smiled. Oh yeah, he was Big Bad, Junior.
"Pet, you gonna be alright with Red, then?" Spike asked interrupting Xander’s little reverie, and Xander wondered why he wouldn't be fine. He hadn't had an episode since two weeks earlier when a red-haired fledge had reminded Xander of a fellow slave who had not taken to Lashar's training nearly as well as Xander had. Xander rolled his head to one side and stretched his neck at the memory, both of the panic attack that had left him trembling in his Master's arms and of the original man's sightless eyes staring up at him from the floor of the training area.
"Yes, Master," he answered without voicing his confusion.
"Right then. Got a few chores to run," Spike said as they started up the walk to the house where Willow and Tara had settled using Spike's money conveniently filtered through Angel. Xander was so startled that he temporarily lost his pace and had to take two large steps to get back to his place just behind and to the left his Master.
Spike was leaving him. Spike had left him in the house four times, but each time Joyce had been there to distract him with stories of Spike before he had returned to Sunnydale, the sad stories of Spike still reeling from the death of the slayer he had loved and the funny stories of Spike tormenting Angel or playing some practical joke on Giles.
Now Spike was going to leave him alone with Willow. Xander honestly wasn't sure how he felt about that. Joyce was part of his new life, his life as Spike's slave, but Willow still looked at him with eyes that searched for the old Xander. However, Spike hadn't asked for his opinion, so he followed silently as he braced himself for sad Willow eyes without having Spike there to deflect the power of the Willow pout.
Spike knocked once on the door, and from the speed at which Willow threw it open, Xander knew she had been standing behind it waiting. Great, she was in on the whole abandon Xander plan too if her near bouncing frame was anything to judge by. So nice of Spike to actually let HIM in on the plan.
"Xander! Spike! Come in," Willow practically sang, and Xander followed Spike into the house and to a living room with bowls of snacks and a stack of movies conveniently waiting.
"Hi, Willow," Xander managed, and Spike reached back so that the vampire's fingertips touched the back of his hand. Xander treasured these little touches that Spike would make more than all the lavish words of praise Leshar had ever offered. Without looking up, Xander knew that Spike would be smiling at him for taking the initiative to speak first, and how sad was it when you counted your success by such tiny baby steps. Right, Big Bad Junior in the graveyard, utter wimp when facing friends. He suspected he still had one or two mental issues to deal with.
Spike sat on the couch, and Xander slid in next to his Master, close enough that their thighs touched, and Spike's hand found the small of his back, slipping up under Xander's shirt.
"How are you guys doing tonight?" Willow asked as she held out a bowl with tiny candy bars. Glancing at Spike out of the corner of his eye, Xander caught the small nod and he reached out for one Hershey bar and then distracted himself with unwrapping and eating the glorious treat as slowly as possible.
"Got us a nest of fledges down at the south end cemetery," Spike answered. "Boy took out five or six fledges on his own," he said in a tone that conveyed a pride that Xander had never even heard his parents use. Of course, he had never really given his parents anything to be proud of.
"Five, Master," he replied. His use of "master" made Willow physically flinch back, and Xander dropped his eyes so he didn't have to see the condemnation in her eyes. He knew how pathetic he was, unable to even walk on the streets without his Master to tell him he was doing it right and keep the nightmares away, but he had come to terms with his own broken soul. He just wished Willow and Giles and even Angel could come to terms with it. Joyce never commented, never looked at him with eyes that made him feel weak, but he couldn't live his life hiding in her house.
"Bloody good. Those weren't newly risen fledges even if they were soddin' morons," Spike answered. "They had some strong blood in 'em. We might have a new master wandering around town." Instantly Xander felt Willow's gaze leave him. He looked up to find her gnawing her lip in worry and looking at Spike.
"Problem?"
"Not if I can find him. Only problem then'll be his when I break his neck for moving in on my territory. Might leave him out in the open for the sun to fry, helpless to get away with his neck broken." Xander wondered how he could feel so uncompromisingly safe in the possession of a vampire who was still clearly a monster in many ways, but then Spike looked over at him with concern coloring those blue eyes, and Xander smiled his reassurance. He looked back to Willow who looked a little less than reassured.
"Well maybe Tara and I can do a search spell, look for demonic energy. If this new master vampire has a lair, he might have been in one place long enough for the energies to gather." Xander didn't miss the slight stutter over the word master, and he knew Spike wouldn't have missed it either. Xander really hoped that would be enough to keep his Master from leaving, but Spike stood, his hand landing on Xander's shoulder and pressing down to keep Xander in place.
"Right, you do that, and I have some errands I need to run." At Spike's words, Xander bit down on an urge to follow his Master or beg his Master to take him, too. Anything to avoid that look Willow gave him that was both hopeful and infinitely sad. He didn't want to be looked at like that. However, he sat silent and accepting of his Master's decision. He knew that Spike did what was best for him even if it made him miserable at the time, and if he would eat broccoli on his Master's orders, he would play nice with Willow for him too.
"We'll just be watching some movies," Willow said as Tara now appeared at the door with her arms crossed protectively across her center. Xander breathed a little deeper at the sight of the second witch. Spike stood silent and unmoving with those strong fingers gripping tightly enough that Xander could feel a slight soreness that he actually cherished because it somehow just proved how much Spike didn't want to leave him.
"Right then," Spike finally said before he started for the door so quickly that Xander didn't have time to follow even if he had seriously considered disobeying. The closing of the door sounded entirely too final, and Xander found down the feeling of panic at being without his Master's protection. It was stupid. He was stupid. Willow and Tara wouldn't hurt him any more than... he struggled but he couldn't quite fill in that blank. He couldn't exactly say his parents given how many times they'd ripped him apart with their words. At one point in his life he might have put Giles in there, but the watcher and Angel had hurt him so badly by trying to take him away from Spike that he still felt uncomfortable around either man. They wouldn't hurt him any more than his Master would, he finally settled on.
Looking up at Willow in the silence of the living room he realized he had been internally babbling because Willow had that sad face that she used whenever he did something particularly unDroopyish. Droopy Harris would have done his babbling out loud, but Xander simply didn't do that anymore. Nope, it was all mental babble for him, and why did that suddenly sound not so mentally healthy?
"So, any good movies?" he finally asked. His words got Willow moving at such a speed he suspected she had been drinking way too much caffeine.
"Tara and I went and got all your favorites. I have two different Babylon V movies and Alien Nation and all the Star Treks including that one with the half naked women you like, but then most of those old Star Treks had half naked women and Enemy Mine and the Alien movies, but those might not be a good idea."
Xander listened to the babble and wondered if he had sounded that nervous and afraid back in his babble days. And he didn't even comment on her suggestion he not watch Alien movies as if he was some sort of child prone to nightmares. His nightmares weren't inspired by any movie gore or imaginary monsters.
"Maybe Xander should pick," Tara said as she now came out of the doorway to settle on the couch next to him. Xander smiled his gratitude to the woman whose silences had become even longer since Spike had rescued them from slavery, as opposed to Willow who seemed to have become even more energetic as if smiley faces and bubbly babble could make the past disappear.
"Oh yeah, sometimes you just have to tell me to shut up," Willow agreed with a wide smile. "So you pick, Xander." Xander looked over at the selection with their brightly colored titles. The girls wouldn't want to watch the alien movies; he knew that so he ruled them out right away. The Alien Nation videos really were just extensions of the television show, and he remembered Willow trying to describe the show to a very confused Tara. Buffy had laughed and accused him and Willow of being geeks as Tara had looked on with concern that she had somehow caused a problem. Xander couldn't help smiling a little at that memory that had almost been lost in his maze of a memory.
"Enemy Mine," he answered. Willow's sharp look toward Tara told him he had chosen wrong and he ducked his head and tried to suppress that curl of panic that he felt at others' displeasure. And that made wisps of anger rise at the idea that he had to please others.
Xander pushed down a growing resentment before he involuntarily showed his aggravation. When Spike wanted him to do something, Spike would just tell him. Giving him a choice and then getting unhappy at his choice just seemed unfair, and as much as Xander told himself that he was safe, that little part of his mind where Leshar's voice still echoed told him that he would be punished for doing the wrong thing.
An hour and a half into the movie Xander knew his punishment for choosing wrong and he found his eyes darting toward the door more and more often.
"That is just wrong, enslaving people because they're different. No one should be a slave," Willow said as she made one more comment about slavery. Xander flinched, well aware that she was condemning the racists in the movie, the men who had captured Xander, and Spike who still kept Xander by his side. Xander reached up and fingered the warm metal links of the collar that was magically sealed around his neck. Nothing short of death would take the collar from his neck and nothing short of death would keep him from his Master, Willow guilt included. Tara made a noncommittal noise.
"Slavery destroys people's initiative and drive. If Davidge hadn't come, these people would have just given up. I never realized how sad this movie is." Xander watched Davidge go searching for Zammis as he reached under the leather strap that held his luna knife against his leg and pushed the harsh demin into the sore skin below. The stinging pain distracted him, and he lost Willow's next words as he imagined Spike's fingers pushing into his shoulder and bringing all the pain inside to that one spot, almost as if the physical pain turned a knob that allowed all the deeper pain to flow out of his soul. Spike would pull all the pain to the surface and then erase it with a bite that burned into his flesh and then slowly turned to desire.
"Are you liking the movie?" Tara asked quietly, and Xander returned to reality as he thought about his answer. He did enjoy the movie, but the running commentary was hard to take. He knew there was something wrong with him for not fighting his slavery, but Tara hadn't asked about all that.
"Yes," he said quietly as Davidge scooped up Zammis.
"Xander, you know you can talk to us, right?" Willow asked, and now she moved from her end of the couch to the spot next to him, her hands seeking out his right hand and capturing it effortlessly.
"Yes," Xander agreed. He could talk to them, he just didn't have anything to say.
"We both know what a hard time you had, we were there too, and we know how hard it is to trust people and get back out in the world." Xander glanced over at Tara whose eyes focused on the popcorn bowl in her hand. He could practically feel the fear from her, but he didn't see Willow as having a hard time at all. "I know you can fight your way back from this," Willow said, and Xander felt his guilt rise up and drown out even the stinging pain of his leg. He pressed harder, but the physical pain eluded him.
"I..." Xander collected his thoughts as Willow sat holding his hand with a hopeful expression. "I'm happy now," he finally said although the statement wasn't true of this exact point in time. Willow's eyes shone with moisture.
"You're better than this; you're stronger than this. You faced down and Angelus and went into the Master's lair to bring Buffy back from the dead." Xander remembered the slack expression on Buffy's wet face when he had pulled her from that water. He wondered if he do that again if he had a chance to go back in time. Maybe he'd have let her die if he'd known what waited for her. He wondered what expression had been in her eyes when she'd been eviscerated by the demon as the Initiative soldiers watched. He wondered if she had found pain or pleasure as Spike had drained her life. He wondered if her last thought had even included him or if she'd assumed him dead.
"That isn't me anymore," Xander finally said, his eyes focused on the coffee table as he focused on the way the grain of the wood ran parallel until a knot interrupted it, swelling the lines and making new patterns in the wood.
"Xander, you're still the same boy who used to eat those tofu burgers my mom packed when she was on that vegetarian kick. You save everyone else, and now you just need to save yourself." Xander thought about that for less than a second.
"I don't need saving," he said, coming as close to arguing as he could without having his stomach reject the small treats he had allowed Willow to push on him during the movie. He closed his eyes tightly against the vision of the people he hadn't saved.
"You're more than a slave," Willow insisted.
"Yes," Xander agreed because he was more. He was Spike's slave, but he was also the person who Spike trusted enough to let pieces of broken William shine through and he was the one who listened to Joyce's stories and shared the pain of losing Buffy.
"You could stay here." Willow looked at him with such hope that Xander felt his heartbeat accelerate wildly at the thought of leaving his Master, and that lack of control made him struggle to catch his breath. Leshar would have stripped the skin from him for showing such an obvious sign of fear and Xander took several breaths as he tried to get himself under control. Spike wouldn't abandon him, he told himself , his Master wouldn't allow him to leave.
"No, I can't," Xander answered simply.
"Willow," Tara interrupted from the green chair where she had pulled her knees up so that her heels rested on the chair seat. Xander could see her own distress even as he tried to ride the wave of his fear using his confidence that Spike would come for him soon.
"He could," Willow said sharply, and Tara physically pulled back into the chair. Xander would have physically retreated as well except that Willow still held his hand captured in her strong grip. He didn’t want to physically fight her over possession of the limb. "He was always the strong one, and sometimes Buffy and Giles didn't see that. Giles thinks he needs Spike, but Xander isn't weak, he doesn't need Spike."
Xander held himself perfectly still as the word weak echoed into the corners of his mind. He knew that Buffy and Giles had always dismissed him as normal guy, and that didn't even hurt any more. He just didn't like Willow holding up a mirror to his weakness. He knew he was weak for needing Spike, but that's who he was now. He wasn't even normal guy, he was weak guy. He remembered wild green eyes as a head strained back to look at him, silently begging him for help, begging him to be strong enough to resist. He hadn't. He was weak. Xander physically shook his head to try and dislodge the edge of a memory that had taken hold.
"I know you're still in there. You put on a face like nothing hurts, but I know you don't want this kind of life. You hate Spike; remember how you wanted to stake him because you said he couldn't be trusted no matter how much metal he had in his head? Remember that fight you had with Buffy the night Giles asked you to take Spike to your place? You never would have knelt at his feet, and I know that person is still down there." Willow's pleading voice went on pulling out memories that Xander didn't think about very often.
He really had hated Spike, and now he couldn't quite figure out why. He hadn't wanted one more rival for Buffy's attention; he wanted to be her white knight just like Angelus had called him. More than that, Spike wasn't one of them, he didn't belong in the group. But now Spike was the center of the group holding Giles together financially and Xander emotionally and saving the girls. Everything centered around Spike, and Xander didn't want that to change. Without Spike he didn't know where he fit anymore.
"I don't hate Spike," he said seriously.
"I don't want you to hate Spike," Willow insisted, but Xander could hear the truth in her voice. The way she emphasized the word hate made it clear that she wanted him to dislike Spike, turn on Spike. Feeling like he had just discovered he was the last stranger alive in a tribe of cannibals, Xander straightened his back and dropped his eyes down to the floor as he fell back on the gestures that had pleased his trainers. He wasn't going to do anything and that way he couldn't do anything wrong.
"Xander, you're stronger than this," Willow wailed, and Xander explored the shades of brown and beige on the carpet because he really wasn't. He glanced up, and the television glare caught on Willow’s red hair and her eyes shone with tears even though only one had escaped and now ran along the outside of her cheek.
A memory of another red-head flashed into his mind. Those green eyes had begged him to be strong, tears running from the corners of those as the girl had twisted. Xander remembered the feeling of cold steel loops high on his thighs, a third loop circling his aching genitals. He wasn't strong. A fire burned through his flesh so that he'd cried out in pain, and the handler behind him jerked the leash so that metal dug into his thighs harshly and brought him to a halt. Leshar and the green horned demon with red eyes had talked on and on.
Xander had gone to his knees when they stopped, the concrete cold and crushingly hard on his bare knees, and now he vacillated between the down kneel and the more formal position kneel as his body demanded movement. The cool air had brushed over his skin making the hairs on his arms and legs stand up, but that just made the fire inside burn even hotter as he started grasping for breath. Such bad behavior normally would have earned him instant punishment, but Leshar had just laughed until money finally changed hands. The green demon had walked over to the barred front of a closet sized room where another sad eyed woman sat hugging her knees with the side of her head resting on the concrete wall. Leshar whispered words, and Xander had lost himself to his own weakness. That fire had burned away the last strength he had possessed.
Xander lost himself in a fractured set of memories where the green eyed girl became the blonde woman in whose blood he had once knelt who became Buffy lying dead beside the water. Xander pulled his form in tighter as his trembling muscles threatened to rip him limb from limb. He closed the fingers of his left hand around his right wrist and straightened his shoulders, Leshar's voice correcting his form to the sound of a flat wood strip hitting flesh. The knees apart, the head bowed, the hands at the small of the back, the spine straight, the eyes down, the expression pleasant and neutral, the feet pointed, the breathing even, the mouth closed... Xander's mind spun with all the rules.
A voice called out "floor," and Xander slid gracefully into the new position, his forehead touching the ground, his knees spread, his hands still at the small of his back, his eyes closed, his shoulders close to the ground the fingers of his right hand relaxed, his spine slightly curved, his breathing regular, his heart controlled and beating regularly, his body accepting of his handlers' punishment.
"Down," a voice ordered, and Xander slipped into the position with his hands resting on his thighs, his back straight, his head down, his eyes unfocused, his butt resting on his heels. Hands explored his cheek, cool knuckles brushing his hair back, but with his head bowed, the hair just fell back down. A low voice whispered, and Xander knew that voice. His breath caught in his chest and he could feel warm trails start wandering down his cheeks until a hand brushed them away.
"My beautiful pet, always gonna be mine, aren't ya?" the voice asked, and Xander leaned into the touch that now cupped his lower chin, fingers tangling with his hair. "But we need to leave now, and I need my pet to follow me. Can you do that, pet?" the voice asked and Xander struggled to focus his eyes. A second hand joined the first so that his face was held between strong hands that slowly tilted his head up and Xander saw Spike kneeling down in front of him, his leather duster thrown open and Spike's blue eyes searching him.
Xander opened his mouth to answer and time made a little jump because suddenly he was buried in Spike's lap sobs jerking his body in an irregular rhythm as his hands crept forward and sought out Spike's waist.
"Shh, pet. 'S'all right. Whatever it is, I'm bigger and meaner than it. It tries to come for ya and I'll break it into soddin' pieces." Xander pressed closer and Spike bent over his back so that the vampire's weight now pressed down on him, and Xander fisted Spike's t-shirt, holding on even as he struggled to find the pieces that matched reality. The carpet was real, the sound of an informercial offering stain cleaner was real, but most importantly, the smell of leather that now enveloped him was real, the weight of his master was real, Spike's crooning was real and Xander held on to those feelings until he could feel his heart slow and his breathing evened out.
"Master?" Xander asked, finding himself on the floor of Willow's living room.
"You okay, pet?" Xander could feel his muscles ache in the aftermath of the spell, but he had regained his ability to tell past from present.
"Yes, Master," he answered, embarrassed to have once again proved to everyone just how broken he'd been by his time in the slave pens.
"What scared ya, pet?" Spike asked as he sat up. A pair of green eyes flashed across Xander's memory, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen that shade of green or why those eyes seemed important.
"I don't know, Master," Xander finally answered.
"When I came in, what were you thinking of?" Spike's hands brushed over Xander's chest and legs and arms in a gesture Xander knew was Spike's way of checking that he hadn't hurt himself.
"Position training," Xander answered truthfully.
"Nothing else then?"
"No, Master." Xander tried to remember anything else that might have caused him to retreat. Spike gave him a strange look before getting to his feet. Xander stayed on his knees feeling safer somehow and needing to hide in his Master's shadow.
"Told you lot to be careful. We're not doin' this again any time soon," Spike sharply barked out, and Xander jumped a bit at the tone, but Spike stepped to his side and buried a hand in his curls, and Xander leaned into Spike's leg. He finally looked up to find Willow and Tara on the far side of the room. Tara still sat in the same chair except now Willow was sitting on the floor in front of her with swollen red eyes, her head resting on Tara's lap as Tara gently played with her hair. What a messed up lot they all were, Xander thought as he looked at his lifelong friend's tear streaked face.
"I didn't..." Willow sobbed and then had to take a deep breath.
"We didn't mean to hurt him," Tara finished for her, and the look Spike gave Tara was a lot more reassuring than the glare he directed at Willow. Xander knelt at Spike's side watching the silent war over custody of the insane slave, and his hand found it's way up to his collar as he fingered that warm, smooth metal and reminded himself that he was Spike's no matter what Willow thought or wanted.
"Doesn't matter what you meant. You won't have another chance to hurt him," Spike insisted.
"Please don't take him away." Willow pushed herself away from Tara's lap. "I won't... I'll be more careful of what I say. I didn't know!" Spike remained silent for so long that Willow's tears now flowed freely over her cheeks.
"I'll think about letting him come back over, but next time I'll be stayin'," Spike finally said, and Xander breathed a sigh of relief that the decision wasn't his. He didn't want to come back here, and he would have answered his Master truthfully, but he did still love Willow and he didn't want to have to say that to her face.
"Heel," Spike said, a command that he rarely used anymore and Xander stood and followed his Master out into the darkness of early morning.
Morning, or rather evening came a little late the next day. By the time Xander sighed himself into consciousness, the bedside light was on and the drapes open to the starry sky. Xander jerked in surprise and the chain going from his hand to the ring set in the wall pulled him short. Spike hadn't used that ring for anything other than play in two weeks, not since his last flashback, but when Spike had brought the chain and cuff out before bed, Xander had simply held out his arm.
"Oi, finally up then?"
"Yes, Master," Xander agreed as he tried to figure out just how late he was. Spike was dressed and he had obviously missed the naughty waking up portion of the evening. As soon as Spike unlocked the cuff from his wrist, he went to the bathroom to take care of his human needs, hoping that Spike would ambush him in the shower. Instead Spike just shouted in for him to come to dinner when he'd finished. Xander hurried after that, coming down stairs with his hair still dripping onto the back of the grey t-shirt Spike had left waiting for him on the bed.
Downstairs Joyce had fixed pot roast, and Xander slid to his knees next to Spike's chair. Spike was busy dunking forkfuls of meat into his mug of blood while Joyce made the obligatory disgusted noises. When Spike wordlessly slid a plate off the table, Xander took the plate and fork and put them on the ground in front of him.
He had finally picked up his own food a few days earlier, and the fact that Spike and Joyce ignored his progress somehow made it easier. It made him feel like they would ignore it if he once again took his plate and slipped it up on the table for Spike to feed him. Strangely, the very fact that he *could* do that made it easier for him *not* to do that, and Xander had long ago stopped trying to understand his own screwiness. So his plate sat in front of him full of meat and potatoes and carrots that Joyce had cut up into bite sized pieces.
"Xander, Willow called and said that she found several boxes of your things in her parents' basement. She packed them up for you when you disappeared," Joyce offered casually. "She's bringing the boxes by tonight, and Spike said to just put them in your room." Xander kept chewing since her comments didn't require a response, but he understood Willow's gesture to be her way of apologizing. Xander put another piece of meat in his mouth as Joyce and Spike discussed the museum.
Xander had eaten all the food including the bitter tasting carrots by the time Spike announced that it was time for them to patrol. Xander stood and took both his plate and Spike's dishes to the kitchen where he loaded the dishwasher.
"Hurry up, pet. Got a poaching master to find," Spike called, and Xander hurried out as he dropped his hands to the handles of his two knives. Oh yeah, he felt a need for a kill. As he reached Spike, he spotted the items in Spike's hands and quickly pulled his shirt over his head as he waited in front of his Master.
Because he was looking down, he watched at long, pale fingers with chipped black fingernails traced the curving S shaped snake whose dark red bands mimicked the color of blood and then the fingers traced the dark X shaped hawk both caught within the curves of the snake and catching the snake with its talons. Xander shivered at the feeling of those fingers touching him so intimately. This moment had become a ceremony between them and Xander turned around smiled as Spike asked the first question.
"What are they for, pet?" Nimble fingers played with his collar and he answered the same way as always as he felt the draping chains swing against his back. The cool metal slid across his skin as the chains swung slightly.
"For following even when you act like a git, Master." His answer earned the same pop on the back of the head it did every morning. Xander turned.
"And what is this for?" Spike asked and fingers hooked a long black chain with three brilliant red crystals to the collar. Spike's finger trailed down Xander's chest along the line of the decoration down to the waistband of Xander's jeans, and Xander took a deep breath to combat the rising lust at that small touch.
"For letting go of the pain and guilt," Xander said, the words calming him and helping him forget the pain of yesterday's flashback. Spike stood back and looked at him for a moment, and Xander raised his eyes to his Master and gave a smile that said he was ready for whatever life threw at them. As much energy as Xander could feel running through him, he just hoped that future included either fucking or fighting, preferably both. Spike smiled back and opened the front door. Slipping his shirt back into place over the decorations, Xander followed his Master out into the night.
The streets were quiet as Xander walked at Spike's side, his swinging gait replaced with a quieter, more deadly stride. His hands dropped to the hilts of his two knives, resting there beneath his light jacket. As they turned the corner into a tree-lined cemetery, Spike lengthened his stride, and Xander immediately understood the maneuver. When they had first started hunting, this had lured many vampires and demons out. Spike would nearly disappear, and Xander would wander the graveyard seemingly alone.
As Xander slowed his own pace through the grey and white headstones, he used his training to control his emotions so that he wouldn't smell of the excitement he always felt during the hunt. Leshar had tried to turn him into an object to be used by demons, and hunting demons gave Xander more joy than he had ever revealed to even Spike although Xander guessed that his master understood.
Xander didn't even try and keep track of Spike who had disappeared into some trees on the far side of the cemetery. He trusted his Master as a hunting partner, and he needed to look slightly clueless for this to work. Vampires could never resist the smell of another vampire on a human; Xander suspected it was some sort of territorial thing, and on the rare occasion that another vampire or demon managed to touch Xander, Spike's reaction had been nothing less than spectacular.
Even while musing, Xander listened to the night as Spike had taught him. In fact, it might just be Spike stalking him now, hoping to catch him off guard and pin him to the ground. Of course, Xander didn't miss the irony in that since he'd throw himself to the ground if that's what made his Master happy. Xander considered doing just that for the half-second that it took him to realize that if it wasn't Spike, the move would be monumentally stupid. Instead Xander moved away from the crypts with their deep shadows as he tried to draw out whoever was following him.
Xander was so interested in the faint sounds of rustling fabric and whisper-soft steps on his right that he almost missed the sound of a feet landing on the ground. He barely had time to turn before he found himself face to face with a pimple-faced vamp with an evil smirk, not that he had seen many non-evil expressions on vamps other than Spike.
"Vamp-whore," the creature hissed through his fangs, and Xander didn't even consider engaging in the whole insult for insult method of fighting Buffy had perfected. When it came to Xander, Spike had one rule: kill it quickly. Xander pulled the longer iron sol knife and made a clean arc so that the supernaturally sharp blade passed through the vamp's neck cleanly until the metal hit the backbone. The vamp turned to dust just as his mouth fell open in surprise, and the sudden lack of a backbone sent Xander stumbling forward into the cloud of dust.
Still sneezing, Xander spun around on the damp ground and found two more vamps headed his way, one showing off with a flying leap over a tombstone. A clattering, snapping sound distracted him, and he looked over to find Spike fighting a trio of vamps. Or, two now because Xander could see the person sized hole in the branches of a tree as ashes rained down through the leaves. That's an interesting staking technique, just fling the fledge at the whole tree and hope some branch hits the heart. Xander smiled briefly as he considered master vampires playing a demonic version of shuffleboard with fledges and trees.
While admiring the graceful motions as Spike spun and kicked, Xander almost broke the first rule of fighting when his first opponent reached him. Because he'd been distracted, Xander fell back several steps with the vamp pressing forward and snatching at his arm.
When cold, dead fingers curled around his knife arm aggressively, Xander drew his luna blade and drove it into the vamp's wrist before yanking himself free of the grip. He managed to nearly rip off the vamp's hand, and that would be an angry face, Xander realized.
"Filthy animal," the vamp snarled, and Xander's shoulders started trembling at the sound of those words. How many times had he knelt in position at a client's feet or at a trainer's side as they had used those same words? He tightened his grip on his knives as he considered how close he had come to losing himself completely. Creatures like this one had tried to turn him into the worthless animal they believed him to be, but now Xander had the power. He had the knives. He had the Master who would appear to rip vampire heads off bodies the minute Xander was in any real danger.
Xander smiled grimly.
"Dirty vamp," he returned as he struck out at the vamp that cradled its injured hand. Xander expected the knife to slice through the vamp's neck, but instead the vamp turned so that Xander struck collarbone without doing any real damage. Now the second vamp joined the fight. Xander slipped the two knives back into their scabbards as he pulled a simple stake from his waistband. While he preferred to fight with the knives which worked against any number of demons they might find on patrol, the stake still worked best against vamps.
Xander warily pivoted to keep the new vamp in his attack range as it circled him. It was a slightly older vamp with eighties hair hanging down between its shoulder blades and a leather jacket. The injured vamp had retreated to a gravestone with angry snarls, but Xander didn't ignore him even as he moved to defend himself from HairVamp.
Eventually HairVamp got tired of the game and lunged forward, but Xander had seen the move coming and shifted his weight to one side so that he could drive the stake into the vamp's side and then use the momentum of the vamp's lunge to push him safely past. He had practiced the move a dozen times with Spike, and when the injured vamp went sailing past him perfectly, Xander did a little bounce of his own.
HairVamp recovered quickly, and Xander had to hide a smile as the vamp started circling him again, slowing driving Xander back toward his injured partner. Xander allowed HairVamp to maneuver him over the soggy ground until he was just outside of the striking range for the crippled vamp behind him. Without warning, Xander spun and drove his stake into the injured vamp's chest, turning him to dust.
Unfortunately, HairVamp behind him took the opportunity to tackle him to the ground, and Xander found himself breathing in the scent of mud and grass as the weight of the vamp pressed him to the earth. Xander twisted, but he didn’t have the strength to fight off a vampire. When long stringy hair appeared right in front of his face, Xander realized that HairVamp was bending over to bite him.
Xander expected Spike to pull the skanky vamp off any time, but he also didn’t want to disappoint his master by giving up. Since his hands were pressed into the earth, Xander reached up with his teeth and got a mouthful of hair before jerking his head back viciously. When his head hit the vamp’s head, Xander could practically hear bells ringing in his ears, and obviously the vamp wasn’t happy either by his startled yelp. Instinctively, the vamp tried to yank back away from the pain, but Xander kept his jaws closed on the hair so that the vamp managed to pull out a large chunk of his own hair, and that was when the vamp let Xander go.
Xander scrambled to his feet and pulled his sol knife while HairVamp was still using fingers to explore the damage to his scalp. When Xander’s knife cleanly separated body from head, the vamp’s fingers were still touching the damaged scalp as it turned to dust. Xander turned and spotted two vamps who had stopped to watch the fight. After taking one look at him, both vamps, who looked like little more than fledges, turned and fled. Xander shoved his knife into its scabbard and went running after them.
The sprinklers had dampened the ground so that Xander slipped and went to one knee as he turned the corner around a large crypt. One of the vamps was standing beside the crypt with the second vamp on his shoulders scrambling for the crypt roof. Xander pulled his stake and drove it through the lower vamp’s back before it had a chance to even snarl. The vamp on his shoulders came plummeting down through the dusty cloud, and Xander felt a sharp pain in his head as the vamp’s boot contacted the back of his head.
Xander stumbled forward and grabbed for a headstone to keep him upright, dropping his stake in the process. As a body hit him from behind, Xander’s lungs were crushed between the force of the attack and the unyielding stone, so that when the vamp pulled away, Xander sank to his knees and dragged air back into his lungs while he fought away a dizziness that left him on the edge of puking.
The vamp grabbed his neck and yanked him to his feet, and Xander clawed at his jacket to reach his knives before the dizziness and now lack of oxygen put him down for the count. Xander had just closed his fist around his luna knife when the vamp who was currently choking the life out of him went flying backwards with enough force that his body hit the side of the crypt with a wet sound that suggested certain bodily fluids were no longer inside the body.
Xander fell to his knees and gasped as Spike proceeded to pound into the now broken vamp lying on the ground. Even though his neck hurt, Xander thought the pain was well worth it as he watched Spike snap a bone in the vamp’s arm… the arm that had tried to strangle him. One bone after another snapped with a dull cracking sound that Xander could barely hear under the screams and pleas for mercy.
Drawing in deep breaths to drive back the darkness that threatened to overtake him, Xander watched with grim satisfaction as the demon who had hurt him was reduced in an inhuman pile of arms and legs sticking out at improbably angles. When the fledge finally started begging for death. Spike pulled out a stake and slammed it into the fledge’s back with enough force that the fledge’s dust scattered and the stake ended up deep in the damp soil.
As Spike turned to him, Xander smiled conspiratorially. At least he did until he saw the unmasked fury in his Master’s eyes as they looked at him.
“Master?” Xander asked in a small uncertain voice.
“Bloody heel,” Spike snapped as he stood up. No hands running over his body checking for injuries, no congratulations on taking out the vamps, no warmth or love in that look at all. Xander shivered as he rose and took his place as his Master’s side.
Xander followed back to the house silently, trying to gather his thoughts. Okay, Spike was pissed, which might have something to do with the whole nearly getting his neck ventilated, but Xander also knew he’d done well. Droopy Harris never could have killed so many vamps, not when the vamps were decent fighters rather than shell-shocked fledges just crawling out of the grave.
His nerves still felt tight after the adrenaline of the fight, and he wanted to explain himself to Spike, but his Master's rigid back stopped him. Spike slammed open the door so hard that Xander flinched, but Xander just silently closed it carefully behind him before locking it and hurrying up the stairs after Spike who was headed for their room.
"Master," Xander offered quietly once they'd reached their room despite his post fight energy and growing anger at Spike's reaction. His own anger only grew when Spike's response was two sharp taps on the floor with his boot. For half a second Xander thought the taps had just been an accident, a simple scuff of Spike's boot on the ground. Then he felt the fear grip his backbone, the fear that suggested things like running and screaming. Finally Xander realized that he was directly disobeying, and he went into the spread position as ordered.
His arms reached from the dresser to the bed as he lay face down and spread eagled on the floor, forehead resting on the carpet as he tried to even remember the last time Spike had used a punishment position on him. His ass reminded him of a time Spike had not only ordered him into punishment position but followed through with a spanking.
"You bloody little git. You nearly got yourself killed out there," Spike snarled, but Xander remained silent, his fingers splayed against the carpet and his toes pointed as he held proper form. "You are a soddin' human, and you do not bloody heal like a vamp. What's more, if you get killed, you'll fucking die," Spike growled, and now Xander felt the floor vibrate as Spike furiously paced in the space around the bed, each time having to step over one of Xander's arms. He didn't even dare point out the humor in Spike's statement because he didn't think Spike found the situation funny.
"What were you thinking?" Spike finally demanded. Xander considered each word before speaking.
"I was killing enemies, Master."
"You were trying to get yourself killed," Spike countered, and Xander didn't contradict him, not that he would ever contradict his master. "Why the hell did you go after them?"
"I wanted to kill them, Master," Xander answered honestly.
"And did it even occur to you that you might be the one gettin' killed?"
"Yes, Master," Xander bit his tongue and cursed the part of Leshar's training that made the truth jump to his mouth when his Master asked a question. And funnily enough, while he hadn't considered that before, now that he had answered, he knew it was the truth. He knew every time he went out that he faced death, just like he had known it when he followed Buffy. Jesse had proved that. After his answer, the pacing stopped. As the silence grew in the room, Xander wanted to fidget, but he held position as ordered and waited.
"Get into the corner, back to the wall," Spike ordered, and Xander rose to obey. Well, he did after a second's hesitation. He had a right to kill vampires. He had a right to be angry about the fact that demons threatened him and every other human in Sunnydale. He'd been fighting vampires since… well, since before he'd become property. Property, and that's exactly what he was. Xander walked to the corner as he used his tongue to find the slightly raised part of his inner cheek where he'd been tattooed like any other animal. The anger flowed into pain. "Shirt off," Spike snapped, and Xander pulled the fabric over his head.
He had barely even gotten his arms down when hands removed the front decoration. Xander stared sightlessly with his head lowered, a skill he had honed.
"Turn." At Spike's words, Xander turned and faced the wall. He half expected pain, and he got it, just not the form he expected. Quick fingers removed his back decorations before reaching down and unbuckling the soluna knives. Xander remained still as he heard these things being put away in the bedside drawers where Spike normally kept them.
"Xander, tell why you would risk your own life like that," Spike said in a scary quiet voice, and Xander's pain doubled. He remained silent because he didn't have an answer. "Pet?" Spike asked, his voice dark with warning.
"I don’t know, Master."
"Bloody hell. Look at me, pet." Xander turned and looked into angry yellow eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze to the ground. He had never seen Spike so angry, and he had no idea what to say. Then again, he suspected that nothing he said would stop the coming punishment.
"I bloody well can't deal with this right now," Spike finally announced. "Floor." Xander looked up, his anger starting to reassert itself and he caught Spike's eye. Spike's growl reminded Xander of his place and he dropped to the floor, his hands clasped behind his back, his legs folded under him, and his forehead to the ground.
At first Xander thought that Spike was pacing again, but when he reached the far side of the room, he made scraping sounds that Xander didn't recognize. Well, at least he didn't until Spike returned and started placing the coins he'd retrieved from the dresser on Xander's body.
“I’m going to go kill somethin’ and you’ll bloody stay here until I come back from patrol. And while I’m gone, you better come up with some better answers unless you want me to heat your arse.” Spike pressed the cold round disks into his skin like tiny reminders of Spike’s cold anger.
The coins wouldn't move easily on the bare skin, but the two coins balanced on the back of his head meant he couldn't move from his position without having them slide to the floor, and with the coins on the back of his arms, he wouldn't be able to replace them without Spike knowing if he failed.
If.
Xander knew he'd fail. He always failed. Green eyes and long brown hair on an otherwise featureless woman floated in front of his vision. Wasn't that what Willow had implied the night before? Spike slammed out of the room, and Xander listened to the footsteps on the stairs and then finally the front door crashing shut, and he was left in the corner like a child sent to his room. Hell, at least a child had dreams about growing up and being someone; Xander didn't even have that.
Xander could feel his anger grow. He was an adult man for god's sake, and here he was huddled in the corner like… well, like a slave. Xander could feel his muscles tremble and he struggled to stop the motion before a coin slid out of place. God, what the hell was wrong with him that he was not only obeying, but worried about letting Spike down? Spike, who had shoved hot pokers into his own sire and master.
Willow was right, he was weak. At least William had become someone new, someone to be feared and respected, but Xander was still just a broken slave. Weak. The word echoed until Xander couldn’t control the shivering and one of the coins on his head started shifting. Xander tilted his head slightly to stop its progress toward the floor, and now he could hear that Leshar voice that lived in his head snap about position.
But Leshar couldn’t hurt him so why couldn’t he get rid of the Leshar voice? Xander’s trembling increased, and a trail of cold down one arm traced his failure. Failure. Xander surged to his feet in a burst of anger and the coins clattered and bounced against the wall before falling softly to the carpet. Xander froze in horror.
As his legs started trembling, Xander leaned against the wall to keep from falling. Instead he managed a slide down the wall before huddling against it in terror. He reached out and picked up one of the pennies Spike had put on his body, and Xander had an irrational desire to hide the evidence, to pretend that Spike had never put the coins on him and just go back into position. He somehow didn’t think that would work with Spike the way it had worked with Mrs. Padile in seventh grade. “Oh, but I gave you that paper right after class, Mrs. Padile. You were standing by the fish tank when I handed it to you.” He imagined himself trying that with Spike. “Oh, you never put coins on me. I would never do something as incredibly stupid as disobeying you when you’re already royally pissed at me.” Xander suppressed a sob.
Well, it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to get punished anyway. At least now he had a reason for the punishment. At least now when Spike whipped him it would be for disobeying and not because Spike thought he was too weak to take on a couple of fledges. He flicked the penny away from him angrily and listened as it dully pinged against the wall over by the boxes.
Boxes?
Curiosity took Xander over to the new boxes. He was going to get punished anyway, so he might as well amuse himself before Spike came home. Xander found himself digging through boxes of his own life, a life he didn't recognize. The clothing he threw to the side at once, and he didn't even want to know what in his warped mind ever thought green and purple flowers were a fashion statement. The books were mostly westerns and science fictions that he tossed aside with the clothes. When he hit the layer of music, he found himself going through his various CD's one at a time.
The Pasty Cline CD had gotten him through the whole Cordelia issue. He picked up one of his few blues CD's and remembered playing it after Jesse's death. God, the box was like a map of his pain. Well, he hadn't called it the music of pain for nothing. Spotting Hank Williams stuck in the side, he pulled the cracked case out and popped it open to the shiny disc inside. Coins and Master forgotten, he went over and flipped open the CD player and put Spike's disc carefully to the side as he slipped in Hank and hit play.
The twangy voice started singing of a cheatin’ heart, and Xander sat on the edge of the bed remembering the first time he'd heard this. The music was actually Uncle Rory's, but the man had left it with Xander after a binge of depressing music and drinking had led to a small gun accident. Other people had happy memories of uncles with candy in their pockets, but Xander got the fuzzy end of the lollipop where uncles were concerned. His parents had been fighting, and Xander had put in the first disc he could find. The sound of Hank singing on about being lonesome had drowned out his parents' words, or at least most of them. It made it easier for Xander to ignore the fight when his own faults got dragged into their little personal conflicts.
The track changed and now Hank sang about poor Kaw-liga who never got a kiss. After Buffy had shot him down, he'd listened to that one about a thousand times. God, he'd thought his life was over. Xander remembered lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling as the music flowed through him. He remembered that feeling of aching loss. What the hell had he known about pain back then?
Pain wasn't having a girl say no, it was watching a girl scream no at the top of her lungs as a trainer raped her. It was a gagged green-eyed girl who could only beg with her eyes, knowing that it wouldn't help. Xander's heart tightened as a memory crowded in and made his chest seem too small. Green eyes condemned him as fragments, shards surfaced with their sharp edges jabbing his conscience. He shot up and pulled open the player and pulled out the disc. Bringing his hand down on the edge of the dresser, he felt the disc crack.
What the hell did Hank know about being alone when he'd never been caged and silent and totally alone even when other people… other slaves and slavers and demon customers crowded in on every side? Xander grabbed the box and tipped it up and he blindly opened another case and grabbed a disc. This one came down on the corner of the nightstand. Yeah, like losing your girl was pain. These people didn't know pain. They’d never had their flesh burned from their body.
Another disc shattered under his hand, and now he scrambled to collect the cases from the floor. Another disc and now Xander felt the jabbing in his palm, and he stuck the bleeding hand in his mouth as he pried another case open and slammed the CD inside with his free hand. Another. What the hell had he known about pain back then? He’d been a whiny little shit who complained because he parents didn’t love him enough. He brought his hand down on another. Another.
When Xander had a sizable stack of shards around him, he kicked out, scattering the pieces to the edges of the room. What the fuck did these people know about pain? The light from the bedside lamp caught in the reflective surface and Xander fell to his knees at the flash of green. Green eyes flashing hatred and fear. All around him, the mottled reflections trapped him. Everywhere he looked, the discs reflected him back in distorted, surreal forms. One disc picked up the brown of his hair, a slender shard propped against the dresser reflected the black and red of his tattoo, a fat piece showed him a nearly accurate eye. Xander reached out and picked up that piece and pressed it into the carpet until it cracked into two smaller pieces.
Xander breathed heavily and wanted to destroy something else. He wanted to take his knives and go kill. When he was moving, doing, fighting, he could push these things away, but now he was trapped by flashes of color. His knee started aching, and he shifted slightly. He knew pain, from both side he knew pain. Memories of those green eyes came up and Xander felt the tears start. He reached up and wiped them away; he didn't want to cry.
The front door slammed, and Xander realized that he had lost another chunk of time kneeling in the room. He looked around and the true panic started as his brain started ticking off his offenses. The coins scattered in the reflective shards accused him of betraying his Master. Xander stood and realized he had dripped blood on the carpet. A thump from downstairs sent him dashing into the hall, and now the fear rose up so strongly that Xander could taste the bile in his mouth.
"Joyce, that you?" a voice called. His Master's voice called. Xander looked at the stairs and then dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door. He wasn't sure whether he was hiding or just in need of the toilet, and his stomach heaved as if to prove he had a reason to be in the room. Fast footsteps on the stairs, and Xander bent over the toilet as his stomach fought him.
"Pet?" Spike called, and Xander could almost call that voice Spike's concerned voice, but he knew pissed had to be close behind. Spike should be pissed. Green eyes. She should be pissed. She probably was pissed. She wouldn't ever forgive Xander, which was totally okay with him because he so totally didn’t deserve forgiveness.
"Xander?" The doorknob rattled and Xander realized he'd actually locked it. Almost sure he could feel those cold steel loops clamped around his thighs, Xander bent over and started throwing up for real, the heaving turning into good old fashioned worshipping of the porcelain god. A weight hit the door and Xander realized that he was about to get the punishment of his life or possibly death, but after all, he deserved it.
The door burst inward, and Xander scrambled over the edge of the bathtub, instinctively trying to get as far from the invader as possible. He pushed himself against the tile wall, as Spike pinned him with a yellowed gaze.
"Pet?" he said quietly, and Xander slid down the wall and hid his face in his knees. "Xander, come here," Spike ordered, and Xander ignored him, the fear making his legs shake, but he couldn't do it. "Xander," the tone was sharper now, and Xander wanted that, he wanted the pain that would follow disobeying that voice.
Instead, a hand reached down and wound around his neck. Xander didn't move as Spike crawled in the bath and sat awkwardly, pulling Xander toward him. "Xander, tell me what you need," Spike asked and now the circles started on his back, and Xander fought, pulling away from that grip and trying to reach the cold hard wall.
"Xander, you'll obey me. Tell me what you're afraid of." Xander pressed his hands to his eyes, not even sure how to answer that.
"Xander, tell me what you're thinking," Spike tried, and Xander opened his mouth because one thought was filling his whole mind.
"I raped her, oh god, I raped her," he sobbed as the trembling muscles finally gave out and Xander was pulled into Spike's lap.
Xander lay curled half on the bed and half in Spike's lap, and boy could he possibly act like *less* of a man? No wonder Willow worried about him. Normal-guy Droopy Harris may have dressed bad and babbled way too much, but at least he didn't crawl in another man's lap after a good crying jag. Then again, Droopy Harris wasn't a rapist. Okay, he'd tried with the whole hyena-Buffy thing, but he'd never actually done the deed. Xander hiccuped.
"You back with me, pet?"
"Yes, Master," Xander whispered miserably as he picked at the edge of the tape holding a bandage over the cut on his knee. He hoped that Spike got the punishment over with quickly so that he could go back to lying in Spike’s lap, and again with the lack of manhood. Xander felt a near-hysterical giggle bubble up and he considered that he might need to start checking his manhood periodically to make sure it didn't just fall off from lack of use. Well, not lack of use in terms of sex-type using because he was getting more sex now than he had when he was dating Anya, which was actually a lot of sex. If anything, he was going to wear his cock out. Xander realized he had wandered off into an internal babble when Spike tapped his nose.
"Master?" he asked, focusing on two amused eyes and one raised eyebrow.
"You ready to talk?"
"I'm sorry, Master," Xander immediately offered as he looked around at the tipped cardboard boxes, the brightly colored clothes flung around the room, the blood dripped on the carpet, and the shiny shards scattered randomly as if a CD bomb had exploded.
"Bit of a mess, innit?" Spike’s tone was light. Xander wasn’t expecting that, and for some reason it made the little knot of panic in his belly grow colder.
"Yes, Master. I'll clean it up," Xander said as he started pulling himself out of that safe embrace.
"Bollocks. Clean later, talk now," Spike said, and Xander really didn't have a choice since strong arms closed around him, keeping him in the nest formed by Spike's legs. Xander sighed a little as he curled up and pressed in even farther. Strong fingers now started combing through his curls, gently separating strands stiff with dried sweat.
"So, start with what you're feelin' right now."
"Guilty, Master. Angry. Weak. Like I shouldn't have survived." Xander whispered the last part, and arms tightened around him.
"Got a right to be angry, pet. Only person I ever knew who had more of a right to be angry was Dru and she was a bit on the loony side." Xander made a small snorting sound; he wasn't sure he entirely qualified as sane himself. "Was waitin' for ya to finally find that anger I could feel running under your skin." Spike's words caught Xander so off guard that he twisted to get a better look at Spike's face.
"Master?"
"Ya scared a century of live outta me trying to take your anger out on those fledges, chasin' 'em like that." Spike took a deep breath, and Xander was floored by the sudden realization that Spike had been so worried about him. Before Xander could apologize again, Spike continued. "So, angry I can figure out, let's start with guilty. Why guilty, pet?" Spike's words brought up the image of those green eyes, and now Xander could remember the face, long and narrow. Pretty in an exotic sort of way, but slightly disturbing in its proportions, or maybe she just looked that way because of the metal bar gagging her mouth. "I asked you a question," Spike said in a sharper tone of voice, and Xander hiccuped again as he tried to get enough breath to admit his guilt.
"I raped her," he muttered, the words burning his mouth.
"Who?" Spike asked without any condemnation in his voice, but then again, this was a soulless vampire he was talking to.
"I don't know her name," he admitted, somehow feeling even worse for that sin.
"When did it happen?" Spike asked in a nearly emotionless tone.
"I don't know."
"Closer to the time you were taken or closer to the time when I found ya at the auction?"
"Near the middle, closer to when I was taken maybe," Xander said as he tried focusing on the details he’d pushed so far back in his mind that he had lost them entirely.
"Right then, about four months ago."
"So, what happened?" Spike's fingers continued their task of freeing individual curls with one hand while the other hand ran gently down Xander’s side as he lay curled in a ball. Xander focused on those hands as he tried to pull up individual details without losing himself in the whole memory.
"Leshar caged me and two others. We drove for a long time." Xander remembered the rough road and the way his body ached at every bump, as he flexed his fingers and toes just to remind himself that he did still control his own body in some ways, even if it was a pathetically small way. That had been before he'd seen Leshar take bolt cutters and neatly cut off the fingers of another slave who did the same thing, snipping them away while the man's wide, panicked eyes streamed with tears around the rod down his throat that kept him silent. Xander pulled himself out of that memory and returned to the even darker memory of the woman.
"Before he uncaged us, he gave us each a shot. And there were handlers there and I hoped it was something that would just kill me." Xander knew he should feel something about that, but he couldn't seem to feel any emotions at all, as if Spike's lack of emotion had leeched into him through Spike's hands. Xander hiccuped and took another breath as he tried to figure out how to say the truly difficult parts.
"I started feeling wrong. Hot. Sore. The handlers put a strange leash on me that went around my upper legs with a loop that circled my cock and balls, and I remember being surprised that I was hard. I wasn't interested or excited, but I was hard and aching and the cold steel around me made me want to touch myself." Xander stopped as he remembered the feeling even though he couldn't quite connect to his emotions. Shame. That was the one emotion he couldn’t help feeling.
"A breedin' leash then," Spike said when the silence had gone on for a while.
"Yes, Master.” Xander nodded, unable to look up at Spike. He felt a heated blush climb into his cheeks. “They chained my wrists and then the handlers made the three of us stand in this concrete and steel building and I started feeling this need. I was the second one Leshar took into the building and there were all these pens with women, and a woman..." Xander froze as he remembered her strapped down with that green demon casually leaning on her as if she was one more piece of furniture.
"Where was she, pet?" Spike prompted him.
"Strapped down. I... I should've..."
"Pet, you were drugged and chained and leashed. I don't think you could've done anythin', and thinkin' you should have done somethin' is just foolish." Xander's memories felt like something he’d watched rather than something he had lived through. He suddenly couldn't remember what the leash felt like digging into his thighs and he couldn't remember the color of the walls.
"Green eyes," he said softly, as he remembered them burning into his. "Her eyes begged me to stop and I didn't. I raped her," Xander confessed in a whisper. He remembered driving into her the way he would remember a television show, in two dimensions with no smell or feeling or taste attached to the memory which was suddenly flat. "I raped her and then I forgot her." He shivered, turning his head away from Spike’s embrace.
"Not your fault, pet. Bloody wankers raped you just as much as her. Violated ya, made ya do something ya didn't want to do."
"But *I* forgot her," Xander protested as he pulled his knees all the way up. A good man would have remembered her and felt guilty and been sorry, but all he did was forget her.
"Soddin' idiot," Spike started, and the dismissive tone caught Xander so off guard that his guilt was temporarily derailed by confusion. "Normal to forget things ya can't handle. Brain's way of making sure we don't all end up talkin' to the stars and even worse, hearing them talk back.” Spike paused, and his voice softened. “Not long after Angelus did his whole disappearin' act I was lookin' for a whip to give Dru some attention. Found a book of poetry at the bottom of one of her chests." Xander tilted his head to look up at his Master because right now his Master wasn't making a lot of sense. He didn't see how poetry really had anything to do with his cowardice. Spike's eyes lost their focus for a minute.
"Bloody bad stuff, that. Bloody rot about love and roses and beauty." Spike's fingers stopped, and Xander could suddenly see a bit of the old William in Spike's soft amusement. "Problem being, I wrote the shite. Angelus, he taught to me to be ruthless. Humiliated and hurt me until I stopped being the weak creature Dru'd turned, and I forgot the bits that didn't fit in with the new vamp I'd become."
"We're both kinda messed up, huh?" Xander asked as he looked up and Spike smiled down at him.
"Yeah, pet. In some ways we are, but we muddle on. Bloody hell, at least we know we're missin' a few marbles. Most people never do admit to themselves that life's sent them arse over teakettle. We're one up on those poor gits who think they've got it figured out."
"Giles," Xander said quietly.
"Yeah, Giles. One day he's goin' to figure out that he's killing himself for lettin' his slayer die first, but that's a slayer's lot, innit? Life hands slayers the short end, sets 'em up to die." Xander reached out and put a hand on Spike's thigh and the fingers that had been playing with his hair stopped so that Spike could put his own hand on top of Xander's.
"You miss her," Xander said.
"Bloody hell, yes. She was a tough bird and a lady to the end. Cared more about you lot than she did about her life, and she bloody well taught a soulless vampire to be a better man." Xander fell silent as he thought about what he'd done. He thought about the woman's face and he wondered if she had blamed him, or their demon handlers.
"So, the demon who set this whole lot up--what'd he look like?" Spike asked in an overly casual tone of voice, and Xander looked up at his Master. He described the slave owner's green skin and horns and red eyes.
"Pylean, then. Those lot don't think much of humans. Probably breedin' and sendin' the rugrats back to his dimension." Spike's words sank into Xander like ice that froze his soul. Why had he been so blind? Oh, that was easy. When faced with his own weakness, he had always hidden, always pretended that the bad stuff didn't exist.
He dusted his best friend, then went home and got rid of every gift Jesse ever gave him. He tried to rape Buffy, and got Giles to go along with the whole 'can't remember' plan. He kissed Willow and then asked Cordelia to pretend that it never happened. He lied about the whole re-soul Angel plan and then when the guy turned up straight out of hell, Xander couldn't even bring himself to admit that he might have been wrong. God, a hundred years in hell should rate at least an apology, but no, not from Droopy Harris. Repress and forget were his favorite words. He started shaking again, his muscles trembling beneath Spike's arms.
"Pet?" Spike asked, and Xander opened his mouth, unable to get words out.
"Xander? Tell me what you're thinking." Spike's hand captured his chin and turned his head so that Xander was forced to look into intense blue eyes. He hiccuped again as he closed his eyes and tried to push away the pain that sent tremors though his frame.
"She's going to have my baby," Xander whispered, speaking the knowledge that had frozen his heart. "God, I always hoped I'd be a better parent than my parents managed to be, but my son or my daughter is going to grow up in a slave pen." Xander truly gasped now, his heart pounding out his panic as he curled his hands into fists so tightly that he could feel the cut on his palm open, a trickle of blood tickling his flesh.