Toys 19: Yellow Brick Road
Rated ADULT
Spike/Xander, Riley/OFC, Angel/Wesley- BDSM, Bondage, Exhibitionism, Slavery

Xander sat in the back of the dimly lit bar, watching the singer on stage as he played his guitar and crooned. So this was Angel's graduation test. The guy would have a career in music if he ever gave up his gig serving as one of the minions of evil.

"Can I get you anything, Sweetcheeks?" a green demon asked.

"Lemonade?" Xander asked. That seemed to amuse the guy who just chuckled and shook his head before heading back for the bar. Tonight was business, and Xander knew better than to have something to drink before business. Spike would string him up against the wall and take the whip to him in a not-so-nice way. Xander much preferred the nice sorts of torture over the punishments. The singer glanced over, and Xander gave him a bright smile. The guy dropped a note and then went back to his chord.

"Someone is getting some attention," the demon returned with Xander's lemonade and leaned against the wall so he sort of hovered over Xander. "Lindsey always did fall for the ones with soulful, brown eyes," he announced with a wink that shocked Xander. He wasn't used to guys flirting with him, not without having Spike cut them into little tiny pieces afterwards.

"Lindsey McDonald," Xander echoed. The green guy's... well, they weren't actually eyebrows... more like his eye ridge where the brow was missing... they went up. "And you would be Lorne."

Lorne tilted his head to the side. "I think I'd remember if Lindsey had brought a sweetpea like you in here before. Trust me, I'm not so old that I don't notice cute and young.

Xander laughed. "Maybe not so young and I'm not sure cute is really the right word." Xander tilted his head and the collar of his shirt shifted to show off his constellation of tiny pinprick teethmarks. "And if Lindsey had every tried to bring me anywhere as his sweetpea, Master Spike would have pulled all his guts out and strung them over the nearest light post, and if Lindsey was really lucky, he would have been dead before Spike did it."

"Ah, you're Master Spike's Xander from the Hellmouth." Lorne sat down. Funny, most people ran screaming the other way when they figured out who Xander was. "I have a regular celebrity in Caritas. So, what can I do for you today, darling?"

"Just watching the show." Xander took a drink of lemonade. The scar and the name were supposed to scare Lorne away, not invite him to take a seat, but then again, Xander had long ago given up hope that demons would ever approach anything close to actually logical logic. They sort of did their own thing, and you went along for the ride and hoped you didn't fall off.

"Is Master Spike interested in Lindsey?" There was a guarded interest in Lorne's voice now as he looked from Xander up to the stage where Lindsey was singing quietly about love and loss.

Yep, the big broodster was clearly an idiot because he had not mentioned Lindsey being friends with the bar owner, but unless Xander was misreading all the signals, they were. Great. If he got one scratch during some bar fight, Spike was going to put Angel back in chains and take the skin off his back with a bullwhip. Xander took another sip of lemonade. Actually, that might be worth it. That really might be worth it. Since submitting to Spike, Xander had become a lot more honest about himself and his own needs, and he definitely needed to see Angel beat up on a little more. The man had the interpersonal skills of a ferret, and any time someone tried to teach him to have better manners, he just did his equivalent of biting someone's finger and then peeing on the floor. He'd refused to go to the Master's lair for Buffy. He hadn't come back to Sunnydale when a hellgod was threatening to open a dimensional door, and he kicked his guys totally out when they tried to point out that he was a flat headed moron who had the moral compass of something really, really rusty and old. Yep, he had Angel-issues, and he was proud of it.

"Lindsey is a good man," Lorne continued when Xander didn't answer. "He has a lot of potential, and he has fears in there that sometimes make the boy a little on the unreliable side, but when he sings..." Lorne's eyes glazed over like a man in the middle of a really good orgasm.

"No offense, but you need to get out more if you get that excited about singing," Xander said, the words slipping out before he could stop and do a demon-safe check on them to avoid offending anyone. He really did have better manners when Spike was sitting next to him holding his leash.

Lorne just laughed and took a drink of something pink and strong enough that Xander could smell the alcohol in it. "Some days, I think I do," he agreed. He looked toward the stage where Lindsey was just finishing up. "Will you pass on a message for me?"

"To Master Spike?" Xander asked. Dumb question, but then Xander really wasn't used to demons talking to him at all.

Lorne just nodded. "Tell Master Spike that Lindsey has great potential. I'm well-known for my clairvoyant skills, and Lindsey..." Lorne looked up at the stage as Lindsey finished. The last note lingered, too sad to really encourage applause even if he was a great singer. "He's something special." Lorne stood up and put out a hand and rested it on Xander's shoulder, something that shocked Xander so much he temporarily lost the ability to even figure out what he should be because demons did not go touching him without permission. They just didn't. Lorne, however, left his hand there for a second. "He deserves more than to have someone use him and then throw him away, even if his soul is a little tattered around the edges." With that, Lorne raised his glass toward the stage and patted Xander's shoulder.

"Lindsey, you are as superb as ever. You simply must come here more often," he announced loudly over the crowd. Xander could see every demon's eye turn toward them. In the corner, Riley had gotten up from his seat and he looked about ready to call in the cavalry. At least Riley was backup and not Wesley; Wesley definitely would have called in the cavalry and the air force and one or two naval units by now. That man seriously needed to chill. Riley was just slowly making his way closer while still trying to look uninterested in the drama.

On stage, Lindsey smiled as the audience finally applauded. Lorne gestured toward Lindsey, calling him over to the table. Well, that solved Xander's first problem—how to make contact with Lindsey. The man gave the crowd a shy smile and a quick wave of his hand before he jumped off stage and made his way toward their table. He was cute. Cute and clearly evil if he was working for Wolfram and Hart. But then, Xander could blame that on Angel, too. Lindsey had come to Angel for help, and Angel had tried to save some kids but hadn't even bothered to try and keep Lindsey out of harm's way. It was like helping an alcoholic get sober and then dropping him off in front of a bar with twenty dollars and telling him to be good. Angel was an idiot.

"Hey." Lindsey gave him a little head nod that reminded Xander more of Oz than some evil corporate lawyer.

"Hey," Xander answered. This was way more awkward than he'd expected when he'd argued for the right to give this a try.

"Lindsey, this is Xander. Xander is very well connected with the Master of the Hellmouth up in Sunnydale. Xander, this is Lindsey McDonald, singer of songs that call to lost souls." Lorne gave Lindsey a special smile, and Xander wondered for a second just how far this friendship went.

"Xander, huh. Nice name." Lindsey turned a chair around and straddled it, leaning his guitar's neck against the table. "Could I get a beer?" he asked Lorne.

"Sure thing. One beer, coming up. On the house." Lorne let his hand rest on Lindsey's shoulder and he looked over at Xander with something like sadness. Yep, whatever these two had going on, it was killing Lorne to not tell Lindsey to run for the hills... or run for the evil lawfirm's evil bodyguards anyway. But it was pretty telling that he didn't warn Lindsey. Not even when he probably thought Xander was step one in some diabolical trap.

After a few seconds, just long enough to make Lindsey look up in confusion, Lorne pulled away and headed for the bar.

"So, you work for the Master up in Sunnydale?" Lindsey asked, and he gave a smile that made Xander wonder why evil always had to be so very pretty.

"Work for might be the wrong term," Xander said with a shrug, "but I'm definitely loyal to him. So, what I'm about to tell you, I am not going behind Master Spike's back. Trust me, you are not worth the special kind of guilt and pain that would entail. Lots of pain. Even more guilt." Xander couldn't even imagine going against Spike anymore. Oh, he could argue with Spike lots. Like when Spike suggested that letting Willow die in a collapsing prison dimension was a good idea... he'd done all kinds of arguing that time. But going behind Spike's back was not something he was ever going to try.

Lindsey's cute act vanished, and sharp eyes focused right in on Xander. It was like seeing the guy turn off one personality and turn on another, and Xander could definitely see the evil shining out now. Yep, Lindsey was ready to eviscerate him and offer up Xander's entrails to a hellgod for a little information. Of course, he didn't actually have the skills to eviscerate Xander. Way bigger demons had tried and they hadn't even come close enough to make Spike get off his butt and help. Xander was not exactly the sort easily eviscerated these days.

"Well?" Lindsey demanded.

"Oh, sorry. Woolgathering in the brain," Xander apologized. "I know about how you went to Angel for help, and obviously Master Spike does too since I pretty much don't find out about things until after Spike does."

Lindsey leaned back, holding on to the chair so that he looked like an extra in a western movie—all white smile and boyish charm. He sure did know how to do cocky. "Angel offered to help me out. Someone else made a better offer." Lindsey smiled to make it perfectly clear that he didn't need anyone's help. For a second, Xander wondered if he'd looked that cocky and that stupid back when he was still insisting that he didn't need anyone and that he wasn't terrified out of his mind and alone and going nowhere after high school ended. If he had, no wonder Spike had claimed him. And no wonder Wolfram and Hard had claimed Lindsey because all this cocky posturing was making him look pretty claimable.

"Master Spike doesn't like you wandering around. He seems to think that you're not good at picking a side and staying on it."

Lindsey's eyebrows went up. "So, is he trying to tell me to get out of town? Wolfram and Hart has never interfered with Hellmouth business, and we have a lot of respect for how Master Spike rules that town. He's an effective leader. But I can't understand why he would send you to give me some sort of warning."

Xander frowned. "Okay, first, getting compliments from your bosses is not exactly complimentary. And second, if this is coming off like a warning, I think I need to rephrase it." Yeah, just as soon as he could find a way to explain what was about to hit Lindsey like a ton of bricks. Some things were not exactly easy to put into words, and Xander was just now starting to think that Spike had been right about letting Lindsey figure this one out on his own. He looked over, and Riley was watching him with concern, clearly ready to jump into the conversation.

"So, this isn't a warning? Is this a really strange job offer? I mean, I hear good things about Master Spike's court, and I'm honored, but the life expectancy of a human in a vampire court is generally pretty short."

"Oh, it's definitely not a job offer," Xander said. "Okay. I'm really bungling this. Look, you know how sometimes you want to do the right thing, but the right thing is the hardest thing ever to do and so even when you know you're supposed to be doing it, you screw it up?"

Lindsey frowned without answering. Damn. Where was Lorne? This conversation would be a lot easier if Lindsey just had a beer or three.

Xander sighed and decided to just go with his strength—blurting. "Angel was talking to Master Spike about you. Master Spike told Angel to get you under control. He said that the second you came to Angel, you put yourself in the jurisdiction of a vampire court, and that humans don't get to choose to leave the court."

"Angel is discussing me with Master Spike?" Lindsey got a big grin on his face. "I guess I have him more worried than I thought. I just thought he was laying low and licking his wounds after getting his ass kicked by that magic user a couple of months back. Well, don't you worry about me. I can handle Angel," Lindsey said with a wink. Standing up, he grabbed his guitar and headed for the door. He didn't even notice the little smear of black tar-like gunk Xander had marked the instrument with. He just trotted toward the exit, all cocky and sure and totally about to get taken down about a hundred notches.

"Thanks for the offer, but it turns out, I have to go take care of some business," he told Lorne when he met him halfway to the door. Lorne was finally coming back with his beer, and when Lindsey hurried past, Xander wasn't sure Lindsey even noticed the stricken look on Lorne's face. Yeah, that was one demon who knew he was going to be a friend short tonight.

Riley dropped into the seat across from Xander and stole his lemonade. "How'd it go?"

Xander shrugged. "I warned him. At least when he gets broadsided by Angel channeling his big, dorky domhood, he won't be totally in the dark."

"Like we were?" Riley asked before taking a drink.

"Exactly," Xander nodded. "When life is about to completely upend your life, a little warning is nice. Just not so much warning that you have time to freak out and do exactly the wrong thing, but just enough to keep the heart-attack levels of panic manageable."

"You got him tagged?"

"Yep." Xander folded up the small handkerchief with the magical gunk and tucked it into a pocket. Riley nodded and took another drink.

"Riley?"

Riley pushed the lemonade back in his direction and took a couple of pretzels out of the bowl in the center of the table.

"Do you think this is the right thing for Lindsey? Wesley's right that this is sort of like accomplice to kidnapping, which is feeling vaguely wrong."

Riley took another pretzel, but this time, he concentrated on breaking it at each of its little joints. He gave a little laugh. "You'd damn well better be willing to kidnap me if I ever slip the leash. Some of us... we just aren't good on our own." He stared out the door where Lindsey had just gone. If Spike's new dark mage knew his stuff, Lindsey had just stepped across a portal and landed in the middle of Spike's court.

"We really aren't," Xander agreed. "I kinda suck on my own."

"I got sucked on my own," Riley pointed out.

"But you're better now. I mean, it's easier being owned by someone than living like that, right?" Xander looked to Riley for some sort of confirmation.

Riley's easy smile faded and something sadder settled over him. "Yeah, it's better now. Sometimes I can go a whole day without wanting the drugs. Maybe the day will come that Lindsey can get through a day without craving the power and the evil."

"Or maybe he'll just get used to the idea that he can crave it, but Angel is never going to let him go wallowing in evil again."

Riley made a face like someone had forgotten to put sugar in the lemonade. He took another pretzel and started breaking it into tiny pieces, flicking the crusted salt bits off with his fingernail. "I just hope Angel can hold things together long enough to actually dominate Lindsey." Riley shook his head. "I would never want him to hold my leash."

Xander leaned back and looked around at the demon and humans gathered around the small tables. "I know. He is a giant dork. I could trick him out of a key to my cock cage in two days," Xander pointed out.

"I could get off his property and find drugs in one," Riley countered, poking a mangled pretzel toward Xander. Xander frowned at that. Yeah, Riley had made a bad choice, but unlike Lindsey, he'd fought like hell to not go back into it. When Spike said he was giving Riley the choice to walk out into the night or submit, Xander had pretty much expected Riley to walk out and find a nice suckhouse with a stash of Rapture. Riley had surprised him.

"Xander," Riley rested his chin on his hand, "are you ever sorry? For me, the drugs are a constant temptation, and let's face it, Lindsey is probably going to be safer and happier in the long run if Angel can just get a leash on him and hold it. But you never gave in to darkness. Buffy never understood that. She didn't get why you seemed to be just fine one day and taking off with Spike the next."

Xander fingered the lemonade glass, sliding his fingers across the cold surface as he thought about that one. Buffy and Willow were his bright and shining girls, but Buffy was gone, and Willow wasn't so bright or shiny now. She was more the cringing, clinging girl with a side of psychological damage. Sometimes he wondered what Buffy must be thinking of them as she looked down from heaven. "I wasn't that fine," Xander said softly. "I don't think I had been for a long time. There were just a lot of things that I don't think I told anyone about, and they left me feeling like I couldn't ever catch my balance. I just think Spike was the first one to really realize that."

Riley sat with him in silence for a time. "I'm sorry I never really noticed."

Xander shrugged. "I was already with Spike by the time I met you. I think that helped me keep the happy face on a little longer. We'd go home and play at domination and submission even though the chip meant it was never real, but even that show was enough to help me glue myself back together long enough to play the happy dork."

"You were never the dork." Riley brushed his hands off on his pants, scattering pretzel dust. "You were no different from Tara or Willow or even Giles and me—you were an ordinary person caught in extraordinary circumstances."

"And falling apart."

"And I followed you in the falling apart department. Actually, I think I managed to greatly surpass any falling apart you did on your own," Riley pointed out. "And Willow outdid both of us. Hell, she makes us look psychologically stable."

Xander bit his lip. "But she'll recover, right?"

That made Riley sigh, but Riley's slow answer felt more real than all Tara's stuttered declarations. It was like Willow would be okay if Tara just said she would be often enough and cheerfully enough. Riley was not that cheerful. "She was alone in the dark for a long time, Xander. Hostages who go through that take months or even years to recover, but they do... eventually. Willow will recover from the isolation. Whether or not she can recover from the realization that she committed cold-blooded murder really depends on how strong of a person she is."

"She'll recover," Xander whispered to himself.

"I hope so," Riley said just as quietly. "However, you and I have about five minutes to get out there or we are going to turn into pumpkins, and our babysitters are going to sit on us." Riley poked a thumb toward four vampires sitting in the corner drinking blood from tall glasses. One had celery stuck in it like a bloody Mary. Or maybe it was a bloody Mary. Xander found that vampires who hung around Spike too long tended to develop a very strange sense of humor.

"We could take them," Xander said, but he got up and double checked the silver bracelet around his wrist. The same black gunk he'd put on Lindsey's guitar was caught inside a little glass bubble so that it looked like onyx.

"Yep," Riley agreed, "but the two Master Vampires who would come after us would kick our asses so hard that we'd be limping when we were sixty."

Xander smiled. "It does feel nice to know that someone out there cares that much, right?"

Riley slung an arm over Xander's shoulder as they headed for the door. "It feels safe," he agreed. "As a psychology major, I should point out that you are confusing love with obsession, but as another slave owned by an obsessive vampire, I will admit that sometimes it's nice to feel safe."

"I just hope Angel has Lindsey under control because I do not want to have front row seats for that. I may understand that Lindsey needs an owner, and I totally understand that Angel needs practice taking care of humans because his human-tending skills suck, but I'm still not sold on this whole idea. It's like giving an abused dog to the kid down the street who always stuck crayons up his nose."

"He's a Master Vampire who had the drop on an unarmed human. I don't think the fight lasted this long," Riley said as they stepped out of the Caritas. The void ripped at them, howling black sucking at their clothes as time and space tore apart. Xander closed his eyes, his fists curling around Riley's jacket as he reminded himself that the spell had been tested over and over and over. And over more. Spike had become slightly on the paranoid obsessive side when it came to trusting his mages. Pinpricks of light gathered, making his eyelids glow red, and then Xander gasped as reality reformed around him.

"Well, shit. That is not ever going to take the place of commercial flying," Riley said softly. His hands were digging painfully into Xander's arm, and he slowly uncurled them. Putting an elbow in Riley's side, Xander poked his thumb toward the corner of the court. Lindsey was backed into it, swinging a sword from side to side to keep Angel at bay. "Idiot," Riley said so softly that Xander might have even imagined it. But with his face a perfectly calm mask of respect, Riley went to Dalton's side and lowered himself to his knees and leaned into her leg. Riley could call it whatever he wanted, but the way Dalton looked at him, Xander was pretty sure they were big with the love. Xander headed for Spike. Most of the time, when there was a fight, the room was crowded with spectators and Spike sat poised on the edge of his seat, giving the constant impression that he was about to jump into the middle of things. Now the room was empty and Spike was leaning all the way back, one boot resting on the seat of his chair.

"Bloody boring, pet. You may have to find some way to distract me from the great poof." Spike waved a hand toward the standoff in the corner.

Glancing over, Xander could see there was no real danger. Swinging his hips, he slowed down so that he could pull his first button loose. The neck of his shirt gaped, and Xander fingered his scar, groaning when his trapped cock pressed tightly against the cage. He wasn't surprised when Spike's eyes yellowed.

"Oi, finish this up. Don't have time for this rot," Spike yelled at Angel. His boot hit the ground as he slid forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees and watching Xander strip with a predatory gaze. Riley might call it obsession, and Xander did understand that for demons, love always came with a little obsession—or in Spike's case, a lot of it. However, that didn't change the love that shone through. He pulled his second button free and pulled on the shirt so the white pattern of bitemarks was visible as the shirt fell from his shoulder. The third and fourth and fifth buttons gave, and Xander let the silk slither off his skin and fall to the ground in a pool.

Twisting his body sensually, Xander moved closer without coming close enough for Spike to touch him, not without leaving his chair. Instead, Xander teased, dancing just out of reach as he pulled his first weapon. He ran a finger along the flat of the blade, watching Spike's gaze flicker between the weapon and the dance. Xander had played rough before, throwing bladed weapons and trusting Spike to be fast enough to move out the way before he took a major injury. It inevitably led to a seriously hot spanking, getting tied face down on the bed and then getting taken over and over while Spike taught him his place. Spike did like playing teacher, and Xander was very good at being an incorrigible student. Who knew that talent was going to come in so handy? Holding the knife, Xander considered it.

"Lindsey, this is for your own good," Angel said in a petulant tone that didn't exactly scream with domination.

"Fuck you," Lindsey answered, and that was enough to break the mood. Spike sprang off his chair and stormed past Xander, all yellow eyes and ridges.

"He's a fucking human slave, Peaches. Do you need me to teach you how to put him in his place?" Spike snapped the words so viciously that the sword in Lindsey's hand wavered.

"Lindsey, this is your last chance," Angel warned darkly. Spike turned his back on both of them and rolled his eyes.

"Or what?" Lindsey asked with a lot more arrogance than a human in the middle of a vampire court had a right to use.

Obviously Lindsey was a little on the slow side because Xander totally saw the punch coming. Angel's fist struck out without warning, catching Lindsey in the cheek and sending him crashing back against the wall. The sword Lindsey was holding clattered to the ground and Angel shoved his body right up against Lindsey.

"About bloody time. It's a good thing you caught on faster, pet, or I would have killed you the same night I first took you," Spike said, holding a hand out for Xander.

"I was always pretty quick when it came to the not dying part of the program." Xander trotted across the room and took his place beside Spike, leaning into him. Now that he was closer, he could see the fear in Lindsey's face. Obviously he'd said something not good because Angel had his hand over Lindsey's mouth and was whispering something in his ear that was making the man wiggle and pound weakly against Angel's back. Yeah, like that would help. Lindsey definitely wasn't on the quick side when it came to submission. Despite all Lindsey's struggles, Angel pressed his whole body to Lindsey in order to free up his other hand so he could rip the neck of his shirt. Now Lindsey's shoulder was exposed, and his flailing became even more pronounced.

Shouting came from behind Angel's hand. "Bite me and you will learn something of pain, boy. Understand?" Angel demanded, but before Lindsey could do anything, Angel struck. This wasn't the soft, slow entry that left Xander trembling on the edge of orgasm every time. This was a hard and fast strike, and Xander flinched at the thought of how much that was going to hurt.

"Sir," a voice called, Xander barely glanced over to where Spike's new mage was rushing in when a wave like black light washed over the room and a half a second later, the whole place boomed like a big jet had just flown over and missed by only about an inch.

"What the fuck?" Spike shoved Xander behind him.

"I am sorry, sir. I hurried over as soon as I recognized the problem." The man edged into the room, his gray head low in submission. "I accept full responsibility, but the spell in question was so subtly crafted that I did not discover it until it started to unravel."

"Bloody, fucking magic. What happened?" Spike snarled.

"A spell ended. While there may be repercussions, the blessings on this building will certainly hold against any magic," the mage hurried to say, his hands held out like he could hold off Spike's fury that way. Xander worked his fingers under the edge of Spike's shirt and found a bit of skin to stroke. "We are all safe," he emphasized.

"I assume this has something to do with my latest acquisition," Angel said. He looked over his shoulder, but he was still using his entire body to pin Lindsey, only now he seemed to be applying some pressure. Lindsey's expression looked a little more pained, but he had stopped trying to beat Angel off with his bare hands.

"Indeed. He had a slavery spell on him. A deep one—one that transcended even death and would have claimed his soul in servitude. However, by asserting your ownership, you had a prior claim and undid the magic binding him."

"Wait, he already sold himself as a slave?" Xander whispered into Spike's back, resting his weight against his Master.

"Bloody hell. For someone who's already a slave, you make a lot of fuss over a change of ownership," Spike told Lindsey. Turning to the side, he slipped an arm around Xander, and Xander let himself be captured and pulled close. The new mage started visibly breathing easier as soon as Spike's attention turned away from him.

"Who?" Angel took his hand away, but the yellow glare he was giving Lindsey wasn't exactly comforting.

"I... I didn't."

Weirdly, Xander actually believed him. He looked way too freaked out to be lying. With a shake of his head, Angel slipped back into his human face. "Dalton, would you send your boy over with the restraints?" Angel called. "I gave you a choice, and you picked the wrong path. You asked for help getting away from Wolfram and Hart and you manage to go from working for them to enslaved to them. Clearly we need to discuss your choices. But until you can make better ones, I'm taking them away."

Angel pulled Lindsey forward and yanked on the shirt hard enough to make the fabric rip. That looked cool when people on television did it, but Xander knew it was going to leave even more hellacious bruises on Lindsey in the morning. Fabric plus vampire strength plus human flesh just did not mix well. Okay, Xander had totally expected Angel to blow it. He expected self-flagellation and guilt and doubt. He expected Angel to be Angel. Clearly, whatever little heart to heart he and Spike had been having, Angel's head had actually come out of his ass because from the dazed look on Lindsey's face, he was finally starting to get it.

Riley appeared with the restraints in hand and he offered them to Angel, his head lowered in submission. "How can you help them?" Lindsey asked... accused even.

"Because this is what Spike did for me, and I know I'm grateful now that I've been out of the situation long enough to see how dangerous it was for both me and others," Riley answered without a trace of guilt. "You asked for help, Lindsey. You're getting it." Angel didn't comment as he took the restraints from Riley and turned Lindsey to face the wall before chaining his hands behind his back.

"Right then. You lot sort this, I have something else to sort," Spike said, his arm tightening around Xander's waist. Xander smiled and wiggled just enough to imitate an escape attempt. Spike growled low in his throat so that Xander felt the rumblings more than he heard them. His vampire had taught Angel to act like a real live vampire, and that deserved a little reward. Xander reached around and pulled out the knife he hadn't yet gotten around to taking off. Smiling invitingly, Xander shimmied as he transferred the knife from one hand to the other behind his back. Did Spike's eyebrow twitch? Xander thought he must have imagined it because Spike was giving him the same sexual look as before, just lust with none of the darker edge to it... not yet.

Stretching sensuously, Xander hid the knife against his forearm and then tried to swing it around for a fast attack at Spike's back. Before Xander knew what was happening, he was being swung around by his knife arm. Riley went darting backwards and Xander still managed to accidentally kick him before landing face down on the floor. Xander hadn't even taken a breath before Spike's weight was pinning him down.

"Oh pet. Someone needs a good spanking and a reminder about who gets to play games and who is the little pet whose job it is to get played with," Spike warned darkly. Xander could feel shivers down his whole body as Spike grabbed his wrists and twisted them up behind his back. "Dalton, get the heavy manacles," Spike called. Xander rested his forehead against the cool tile. Oh god, it was going to be a long night, and Xander squirmed in happy anticipation. Yep, hopefully Lindsey would figure out that the first night of submission was a lot like getting hit by a brick, but after a while... it was more like you had followed the yellow brick road and gotten the answers to life.

Read Readers' Comments

Angel locked the top of the cage. "Comfortable?" he asked. It worried Angel that he felt so good enslaving Lindsey, but it did solve his problem rather neatly—perhaps too neatly to be truly moral.

"You're enjoying this." Lindsey glared up. He was dressed only in sweats and his wrists were chained to the sides of the narrow cage. Lindsey had room to lie flat, but he didn't even have much room to squirm and the bars gave Angel access that probably made his situation even more uncomfortable. Dalton had used it on Aeth, and Angel hoped that wasn't some sort of ominous sign.

"I'm enjoying the fact that I don't have to wonder what idiocy you're up to," Angel admitted.

"How is this going to work with your big quest for redemption? Are you giving up the good fight in favor of becoming a rapist?"

"I haven't raped you," Angel said patiently. It was easier to be patient with Lindsey when he was caged and unable to do any more damage with his poor choices.

"Yet," Lindsey said darkly. "You certainly enjoyed catching a feel when you changed my pants. So, when can I expect the main event?"

"Do you want the main event?" Angel asked. He studied Lindsey. The man's hands were fisted, but he wasn't fighting the restraints. He was smart enough to know he'd just wear himself out. He was also smart enough to understand the psychological reasons behind Angel taking a few liberties and examining his property. Angel supposed the rape comment was meant to put him off his game. After all, lies and manipulation had always been Lindsey's strengths. Maybe that's why he'd been drawn to Darla like a moth to a flame. Darla had been a master at manipulation. While she hadn't truly dominated Angelus, she'd manipulated him into following her every whim.

Angel reached through the bars and ran fingers down Lindsey's bare chest. "I touched you because I can... because you need to understand that things have changed and from your words, it's clear that you think you can talk your way out of this. You can't. I own you Lindsey, and as your owner, I need to make sure you know that. I'm not going to push you farther than I need in order to get that point across, so you are safe, but do not think that safe means that you are free. You are not." Angel laid the flat of his hand against Lindsey's chest and just watched at the lawyer fought his inner demons. Those were always far more terrifying than the ones that threatened you from the outside.

"And your soul... is that still attached because this is feeling a lot more like something Angelus would do."

Angel didn't answer. He just returned to running fingers over Lindsey's chest. Somewhere in the past, Lindsey had learned that to be powerless was to be in danger. Angel had to break that connection or Lindsey would never give up on his quest for power or his willingness to put himself or others at risk.

"Freak," Lindsey whispered. His muscles tensed as Lindsey expected pain, but if Angel had reacted, then he would have been giving Lindsey power—the power to manipulate him and control what happened. It was time for Lindsey to learn that he had no control and no power, not over anything. Angel reached up and cupped the side of Lindsey's face. Almost immediately, Angel could see the cunning look in his eye.

"Bite me and I'll gag you and I will still touch you however I like," Angel pointed out mildly. Immediately, the muscles along the sides of Lindsey's neck relaxed. His boy did not like the thought of losing his last weapon, that's for sure. The cage was small enough that the bars that made the top were only an inch above Lindsey's chest and his arms pressed up against the sides. Angel really did have full access and he stroked a thumb across Lindsey's throat. He had to teach him that powerless did not mean the same as hurting.

"You are safe. More importantly, the rest of LA is safe from your schemes. Did you know that Darla killed an entire bus of passengers because she was having a bad day? She and Drusilla killed a girl in a shop, a young woman who was working her way through school to become a social worker. When you were fifteen, would you have approved of helping someone kill a social worker, Lindsey?"

"I don't think you have any right to judge my morals." Lindsey gave his arm a sharp jerk. The three inch chain that connected his wrists to the side jingled.

"Considering that I own you, I can judge anything I like," Angel pointed out. "However, I'm not currently judging you; I'm asking you for an honest judgment of yourself. If you were fifteen again, and I said that I had arrested a man who turned a killer loose because he wanted power, what sentence would fifteen-year-old Lindsey McDonald have handed out?"

"What sentence are you serving for being the Scourge of Europe?" Lindsey demanded with a smug smile. Angel didn't react. If Lindsey was off balance enough to attack, that meant that Angel's barb had sunk in.

All this was so terrifying. Angel remembered every moment of his life at Darla's side, and he remembered using his understanding of people, honed at her side, to torture them. When he would have killed Holtz, Darla coached him in the finer points of psychological torture, and what he was doing now... he had a different goal, but the methods were so similar that he was petrified. He had planned this out with Spike, talked through every permutation: anger, denial, attack, fear. However, actually taking Lindsey in hand did feel like something Angelus would have enjoyed, and that terrified Angel.

Actually, all of this terrified Angel: Wesley and his adoration, Cordelia's fealty that had eventually led to her magically-induced coma as the Pockla attempted to protect the last of her brain, Fred and her powers and her unfailing faith in his goodness. It all terrified him—terrorized him. Their emotions were so strong, and they centered their lives around him and his quest. No wonder he had tried so hard to be blind to the storm brewing around him—he didn't feel worthy of being the eye of this storm. In Sunnydale, he'd been a minor player off to the side, at least until he lost his soul. But now, a clan was forming around him despite his every effort. It all terrified him so much that part of him wanted to run. He wanted to drive all his humans away before he made some unforgivable mistake.

Angel shifted and now he stroked Lindsey's leg. Lindsey was so surprised that he tried to pull his knee up and cursed as he hit the bars of his cage almost immediately. There was no escape for Lindsey, and Angel was starting to realize there was no escape for him. He could lead this clan or he could watch them all fail, but he couldn't choose to not be a leader. And if he tried, Angel suspected that Spike's patience was about out. Angel had to admit to some respect for the vampire Spike had become, but he was not about to become a pet on a leash for anyone. He had been willing to choose death over kneeling for old bat-faced Master Heinrich, and he would be dust before he'd live on Spike's leash.

Angel sighed. If he had the choice. Spike might not give him a choice if he screwed up again.

"Having fun?" Lindsey asked bitterly.

"Yes," Angel answered. He was enjoying the feel of human heat under his hand, the ripple of muscle and the play of fear and anger drifting through the air. Lindsey clenched his teeth.

"I see you're busy."

For a second, Angel's hand paused, but then he continued his stroking. "Wesley," Angel greeted him. Wesley stood at the door, and Angel simply waited. Wesley had already voiced his opinions about the plan and Angel had stood and listened to every objection. He'd withheld his final decision as Xander and Riley had joined Fred and Wesley to talk about Lindsey's past and what mistakes he'd made. Soshie, Fred's young Odel Tal lover, had watched silently but with wide eyes as they had discussed whether Lindsey's choice to ask for help justified this action. Considering she had fled from slavery, Angel wasn't sure what she thought about Lindsey's enslavement. However, with the exception of Wesley, everyone else had concluded that it was the best choice.

It took Wesley several minutes to step into the room.

"We have word that Groosalugg is in Vegas. Two Oden Tal told him that Cordelia is dying, and he's on a flight coming back here. Actually, it's rather ironic. He was coming here to find Cordelia anyway. It turns out that after he was deposed by his subjects, he had wanted to come to our dimension, but the mage who had been controlling the cross dimensional traffic recently vanished. I rather suspect from the description that the mage who has recently given up free-lance work might be Master Spike's newest court member." Wesley's eyes travelled everywhere as he gave his report—the ceiling, the wall with the movie posters, the bookshelf, Angel's bed. They went everywhere but to the cage pressed up against the side of Angel's bed.

"I bet you're enjoying this. Does this make you feel more powerful?" Lindsey demanded. Immediately, Wesley turned red.

"I assure you that I—"

"Wesley," Angel warned. The last thing he needed was for Lindsey to start seeing internal politics. Lindsey needed one master and a united court around that master. Wesley might not like this course of action, but he would respect it.

Wesley's mouth snapped shut, but his body went stiff.

"Not man enough to answer for yourself?" Lindsey taunted.

Angel reached in and covered Lindsey's mouth. "It's time for us to discuss rules and consequences," Angel said firmly. "You will ask permission before talking to anyone other than me, and you will speak to them respectfully if I grant that permission. And I am going to warn you right now, I will not be in the mood to grant you permission very often. If you break this rule, I will gag you and you will take one hit with my hand on your butt for every word that comes out of your mouth. Understand?" From the way Lindsey narrowed his eyes hatefully, he understood. Angel pulled his hand back slowly, waiting to see what happened. Sooner or later, Lindsey would challenge the rule and see how far Angel took the punishment. If Angel chose, he could easily break bones with a single hit, so Lindsey would need to learn that he could trust Angel's fairness.

"Clearly, I'm not the one whose lack of manliness puts my ability to answer into question," Wesley said with undisguised glee, choosing exactly the wrong moment to channel Xander Harris levels of inappropriate snark.

"Wesley!" Angel snapped.

Wesley blushed, but he also kept talking. "For a man in a cage, he has a lot of opinions about people who have managed to not get put in cages."

Angel was up and had crossed the room before Wesley finished. Putting his hand over Wesley's mouth, he pushed him back into the wall and held him there. Wesley's eyes were wide, and panic was just now starting to set in as his brain finally caught up to his mouth. Angel groaned. If he didn't do something, Lindsey would never trust Angel to protect him, but he didn't want to take Wesley to task. Spike was right about one thing—Wesley's confidence was far more shaken than Angel had ever noticed.

Clearly he had to do something, and clearly he had no idea what he should do. However, hell would freeze over before he would run to Spike for every problem. Angel took his hand away from Wesley's mouth and caught the man by the back of the neck.

"Oh god, Angel, I am sorry," Wesley blurted.

"Lindsey, we will be back. Be good," Angel said before he pushed Wesley out the door and closed it behind them.

"Angel, I don't know what came over me. That was clearly unforgivable," Wesley said. Angel didn't answer. He simply took Wesley by the arm and walked down the short hall to Wesley's room and pushed him inside before pulling the door closed again. Wesley would stay put. Fred's room was between them, and Angel went to it and gave a sharp knock and waited a second before pushing the door open.

Soshie was kneeling between Fred's open legs, her hands spread out on Fred's hips, and neither woman had done anything to try and hide anything for modesty's sake. Angel was caught temporarily speechless.

"You need something?" Fred asked in the same guileless voice she always used. Angel's hardening cock not only knew that it needed something, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that one word and the two women would make room for him in the bed. He had business to attend to. And why had he never noticed how firm and strong Fred was? "Angel?" Fred asked again. Angel cleared his throat and struggled to get his attention focused back on the business at hand.

"Could you ask Dalton to come to Wesley's room?"

"Sure thing," Fred agreed while Soshie moved to the side, her long, black hair hanging like a waterfall over her shoulders. Angel was either going to have to find someone willing to take a bedpartner tonight or he would be asking permission to use the stable, and Angel did not want to explain to Spike why he had avoided Fred's bed. Fred was too much like a sister for Angel to be having these thoughts. It was wrong. And his vampire nature was actually fairly willing to indulge in some wrongness.

"Soshie," Angel said with a nod for the Oden Tal woman before he turned his back and headed to Wesley's room.

Angel opened Wesley's door, stepped inside, and then turned his back to Wesley in order to rest his head against the wood.

"Angel? Are you alright?" Wesley was clearly concerned, and Angel didn't want to worry the man, but Wesley was about to get thrown on the bed and ravaged if Angel couldn't get his lust under control. While the man had never complained about being ravaged, this was not the time. "Angel?" Wesley asked again. A warm hand rested against Angel's shoulder, and Angel held a hand up to warn Wesley off. Wesley backed up, the smell in the room slowly turning bitter as he worried.

"Fred and Soshie have no modesty. Were that Dru and Darla in the next room, I'd accuse them of using their bodies as distractions," Angel finally admitted. He could feel his fangs slowly withdraw as the demon realized he was not going to be released.

"Oh."

Angel rolled his head to the side and looked at Wesley out of one eye. "I'm trying to focus on business."

"Yes, I can quite see where I put you in a difficult situation."

"Can you?" Angel turned around and really studied Wesley. He certainly looked guilty enough. He was staring at the carpeting, and he'd turned an unhealthy shade of gray. "I need to teach Lindsey that he is safe giving up power, and you attack him so that he feels vulnerable."

Wesley looked up, his gaze temporarily defiant—angry even—and then he looked away again. Angel took a step closer and turned all his attention to Wesley. "I need to show Lindsey that he can trust me to protect him, that he does not need to gather all this power around him. That is the only way that this slavery can be anything other than torture. Xander trusts Spike with his life, and after Dalton choose to protect Riley even at the cost of upsetting Spike or keeping her mage, he started to truly find some peace with his slavery."

"I was at the meeting. I heard the same stories you did," Wesley snapped.

"Then why, Wesley?" Angel didn't expect a straight answer, but he did hope for some clue if he could only keep Wesley talking.

"I was out of line. I simply reacted out of frustration."

"With me?" Angel followed as Wesley retreated to the bed.

"No!" Wesley looked at Angel with confusion, so clearly that was a wrong path. "I never supported the idea of bringing Lindsey here. Wolfram and Hart will try to reclaim him. We're borrowing trouble."

"Are they likely to invest more resources to come after us now? Will they take on Spike's court as well as ours?"

Wesley opened his mouth, and then closed it again as a knock came at the door. Angel took a step backwards and opened it.

Dalton stepped in, her gaze scanning the room curiously. When Angel had first seen her as a starving minion in his LA hotel, she hadn't seemed like much. She had more control that most minions, certainly. However, she hadn't seemed Master Vampire quality. Now she did. She carried herself with a confidence that sent minions and lieutenants running. Angel still remembered Spike's threat to not let Angel leave with his court until he fought his way past her, and the more Angel watched her, the more he had started to see that she would be a challenge.

She was predictable in a fight, choosing her strategy out of training instead of instinct, but she had power and precision that one didn't normally find in a vampire so young. Angel wondered if Spike still fed her sire's blood or if she was simply one of those vampires who could claim power early. Spike had actually been like that. By twenty-five, he had broken away from Darla and taken Dru away. Angelus certainly hadn't managed to assert himself by that age, not that he planned on ever admitting it publicly.

"Master Angel," she offered, tilting her head in respect without actually signally any submissiveness.

"You came faster than I expected," Angel admitted, wondering if Fred had gotten dressed or if she'd simply trotted down the hallways in search of Dalton while naked. "Wesley, we need to show Lindsey that there are consequences, so I'm going to ask that you help me decide how to best teach that lesson."

"Me?" Wesley's voice broke. He cleared his throat. "So, you are doing the metaphorical equivalent of asking me to cut my own switch?" he asked, this time his voice a little lower, but still not sounding normal.

"I don't want to do something that hurts you, Wes," Angel said. Ignoring Dalton, Angel moved forward. Wesley tried to retreat, but he was in the corner formed by the wall and his bed, and Angel moved too fast for him to get free of it. Reaching out, Angel caught Wesley by the back of the neck and pulled him close. It was a gesture he often used before biting, and he could smell Wesley's lust. "Would you rather have it over fast, something like a spanking or a tawse to your back?"

"What? No. I mean, I am rather not interested in pain."

Angel nodded. Wesley didn't want pain, and he didn't want it over fast. "It was your inability to control your mouth that caused the trouble. I imagine Dalton could find a gag that would not be painful, simply annoying." Wesley didn't answer. "Of course, if you're gagged, I would want you in my bed to make sure you do not have breathing troubles." The lust smell increased. Angel pulled Wesley closer so the man would not see the look of weariness on Angel's face. This was going to be a problem; Wesley was jealous of the attention he was paying to Lindsey. If Wesley were angry, this problem would be far easier to solve, but now that Angel had identified the issue, he couldn't ignore it.

Wesley cleared his throat, his fingers tentatively finding Angel's waist. "If you think that's best," he almost whispered.

"What I think is that you are too good of a man to attack a slave when he feels vulnerable and lost," Angel said harshly. After all, Wesley did need to be punished for doing that, and the gag and spending the night in Angel's bed were not exactly going to be punishment. Wesley cringed, so Angel thought he had made his point. Angel gently pushed Wesley away and turned around. "Dalton, I need a gag that is not going to cause jaw cramping or block his breathing. Actually, bring two. I don't trust Lindsey to control his mouth, so I'll need the second one soon enough."

Dalton was watching them, a frown on her face as she obviously tried to work something out in her head. "Quickly," Angel added. She could ask Riley to explain later—between his psychology degree and his experiences, he had a lot of insights, but Angel did not want to leave Lindsey alone for long.

"Of course, Master Angel," Dalton agreed with a smile before turning and leaving. She closed the door behind her, and Angel stood in the room, smelling Wesley's uncertainty and lust and wondering just how to handle this particular permutation. If Wesley were a vampire, Angel would throw him down and fuck him until he understood he was valued, but he didn't think that would go over well.

"Lindsey is under my protection, and that means he will stay at my side until I can trust him anywhere else," Angel said firmly. That could not change no matter how jealous Wesley got.

"I fully understand. I am truly sorry that I have made his life more difficult because I did argue that we had no right to put him in such a difficult situation," Wesley nodded, a stoic look on his face. Angel frowned, trying to decide if Wesley was putting on a front for Angel or if he simply hadn't admitted his jealousies to himself.

"It's just that keeping him there does tend to stir my darker needs."

"Your demon? Do you have control?" Wesley looked at Angel, not with concern for himself but with concern for Angel. If he'd said the same thing to Cordelia, she would have cheerfully offered to stake him. He didn't even want to consider what she was going to say to him when she woke up and found out he'd taken a slave. Angel looked at Wesley. Or two.

"I am about as far as I can get from losing my soul," Angel admitted. "However, between my demon stirring and the show Soshie and Fred just put on, I really planned to invite you to share my bed. However, I don't want to make you uncomfortable by putting you in that position when Lindsey is in the room. You do know that he will, sooner or later, question your manhood because you choose to submit."

"My manhood is not in question," Wesley said firmly. "And I trust you to make that clear to him because my judgment seems a little skewed when it comes to Lindsey McDonald. If you need me..." Wesley took a step closer.

"I always need you. You and Cordelia both have a talent for telling the truth, but the way Cordelia says it..." Angel made a face.

"She is rather confrontational," Wesley said. Angel felt a flash of guilt at even thinking that. She suffered for him, and sometimes he felt pulled toward her like none of the other members of his team. But other times, she was entirely too confrontational and he felt uncomfortably like the fledge trying to gain the approval of older clan member, which made no sense because Cordelia wasn't even half his age.

"Rather," Angel agreed. "So, Groosalugg is coming? How long will it take for him to get here?"

"His flight should land in a little over two hours. Given traffic around the airport and the distance up here, Master Spike estimates that he will be at the court in six or seven hours."

Angel nodded. Spike could use his new mage's portal spell to bring him here a lot faster, but he suspected Spike was giving him time to prepare. The fight with the Groosalugg had not gone well last time; Angel had to use his pure demon's form in order to win, and Angel didn't have the ability to do that in this dimension. And Spike had been more than crystal clear that he would not allow the visions to be transferred to Groosalugg until the man was safely in Angel's clan, and for Spike, that meant through combat. In some ways, Spike was so very different from any vampire Angel had ever known, but in others, he was very much a traditionalist, even more than Darla. Sometimes he suspected that Spike and old Heinrich would have gotten along well. At least until the old master figured out that Spike not only retained his ability to love but was absolutely enthralled to a human slave. Angel would never have that relationship with Lindsey. Wesley took another tentative step closer, and Angel reached out and pulled him close.

"Do you know what I would really like?" Angel whispered in his ear. Wesley titled his head to look up at Angel. "You spend so much time in bed worrying about my needs. What I would really like is to tie your hands so that I could explore and taste you and know that you had nothing to do other than feel what I was doing to you." Angel ran a finger over Wesley's neck, and the smell of lust burst into the air.

"I... um... if that's what you would like," Wesley finally stuttered out.

"It is," Angel said. A knock came at the door. "To have you gagged and helpless as I make you come would make me very happy," Angel confessed.

"As long as it doesn't make you too happy," Wesley said in a cautious voice while Angel answered the door. Riley stood there with two gags in his hand. With a soft "Master Angel" and a lowered head, he handed them over and then turned to leave, his back a railroad crossing of old scars.

"Wes," Angel stopped not sure how to explain this to Wes without him taking it wrong. To dominate Wesley or Lindsey was terrifying, and it always would be. He could feel the weight of failure breathing down his neck. He knew that with one wrong move he could do more damage than he could repair, and he knew that by doing nothing and withdrawing, he would do nearly as much damage. Angelus had only ever dominated one person who wasn't dead hours or even minutes later because domination was a game that demanded far too much attention. It was a game that was entirely too easy to lose. Pure happiness was not a danger here.

"I am in the middle of Spike's court with Spike threatening to put me in chains if I can't live up to his expectations. I have a man in a cage in my bedroom, and I have to somehow take him from spitting with fury to the sort of acceptance Riley has," Angel gestured to where Riley had just left. "And I have a new warrior coming in who I am supposed to make part of the clan so that Spike will allow a magical transfer of Cordelia's powers before they kill her. And then, if we're all very lucky, Cordelia will wake up and I will have to face her and all her opinions about what has happened since the Pockla put her in that coma."

Wesley grimaced. "Put like that, I can see where perfect happiness is not truly a danger."

"Truly, it is not," Angel confessed. "And we need to get back to Lindsey who has to feel very alone and very afraid with no access to any of that power he has counted on to protect him." Angel held up one of the gags. It had a flat mouthpiece and smooth, curved plastic sides that attached to a leather headpiece with a lock. A small key stuck out from the side.

"Yes, of course," Wesley said, his voice all business, but as Angel reached up to gag Wesley, the man's lust nearly overwhelmed Angel's sense of smell. At least this was one small piece Angel had managed to get right, he thought as he locked the restraint in place. With a pat on Wesley's arm, Angel went over and grabbed the man's robe off his bed.

"For the morning," Angel explained. Wesley nodded and then, when Angel put out an arm for him, stepped close to Angel's side as they headed back out of the small room Wesley had been given and toward Angel's.

Read Readers' Comments

Angel unbuckled the gag from around Wesley's face, and the man reached up to rub his jaw.

"Sore?" Reaching up, Angel ran his own thumb over Wesley's cheek and jaw. The morning stubble was rough under his fingers, and Wesley smelled of sleep and Angel.

"It feels rather odd," Wesley said, not actually complaining about the gag, and Angel stored that bit of information away for a later time. When Wesley had first come to Angel's bed, he'd been nervous and randomly babbled about the mating habits of various demons until Angel had fed from him so slowly that Wesley had fallen silent, the sound of his gasping the only interruption as Angel had slowly rediscovered human anatomy. Clearly the gag worked just as well to calm that overactive mind.

"I think you have something to say to Lindsey," Angel said with a meaningful look over to Lindsey. He was still wearing his gag, but then his comments had been rather more pointed. In fact, Angel was slightly worried about whether Wesley would be able to apologize for his own rude comments given that Lindsey had called him so many names before Angel had gotten the gag in. But Wesley surprised him.

Straightening up, he faced Lindsey with pink in his cheeks. "I am sincerely sorry for my earlier words. You are part of this clan, and I will admit that I was feeling rather peevish for reasons that had very little to do with you. I should not have taken that out on you."

Angel could almost smell Lindsey's surprise. "Are you worried about the Groosalugg?" Angel asked curiously. When he reached out to catch Wesley around the waist, Wesley yielded.

"And Cordelia," he added. "Do you need blood?" Wesley tilted his neck in invitation, and Angel's cock hardened at the sight of a half-dozen little pinpricks of white scar against his neck.

"I took from you last night. Others will feed me this morning," Angel said firmly. Not only did Wesley need some blood for himself, but Angel was going to end up back in bed if he tried to feed from Wesley. Why had he never noticed that Wesley was so quick to yield, to mold himself to Angel's needs and Angel's body? Angel had the uncomfortable suspicion that Spike might have been right about the fact that Angel had been an idiot for the last few years. Possibly longer.

"Lindsey?" Angel called, holding out his hand. Lindsey was gagged and his hands were still cuffed behind his back, but that did not prevent him from making his thoughts very clear. He had a glare on him that could wither plants. "You may come here using your own feet or you may refuse and force me to come over there. The choice is yours, but do keep in mind two facts," Angel advised him. "I own you and your blood, and I will take what is mine. If you make me come over there, I will need to do something to remind you that you are mine." Angel gave Lindsey a moment to think about that before he raised the hand he was holding out toward Lindsey.

With a final glare and a snort through his nose that was nearly as loud as a horse's, Lindsey finally moved closer. When Wesley tried to move away, Angel tightened his arm around the man even as he pulled Lindsey closer. Both men needed to be held close, even if their reasons were so very different, and Angel had to find a way to make this work or one of them was going to self-destruct. Lindsey refused to tilt his head in offering until Angel quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Other side," Angel said when Lindsey tilted to show the rough and swollen bite mark Angel had left when they had first fought. For some reason, Angel wanted that to scar undisturbed so that the rough mark would always remain to remind Lindsey of that moment when ownership had transferred. Lindsey took several seconds, and then he tilted his head to show the other side of his neck.

Slipping his hand around Lindsey's waist, Angel carefully pulled him close and tasted the warm skin before slowly sinking his fangs in just far enough to find a vein. Angel focused on making Lindsey enjoy the moment—drawing the blood as slowly as he could. At first, Lindsey was stiff in his embrace, and then his body temperature started going up and he wiggled, his breath hot against Angel's chest. Only when Lindsey was clearly feeling needy did Angel pull his fangs out and lick his lips.

Wesley was watching, an expression of concern on his face, but Angel wasn't sure what the man was concerned about. Before he could ask, a knock on the door interrupted them. Angel let go of his boys, amused when Lindsey made a little unhappy whine. The man might be mad as hell that he'd been taken captive, but he was certainly not above enjoying parts of it.

"Yes?" Angel opened the door to find Spike's new mage there. He was an older man, portly and gray-haired with only a few streaks of brown left to show its original color.

"Master Angel," he said respectfully, bowing his head. "Master Spike suggested that I present you with some options for claiming your newest slave."

Angel's eyebrows went up as he accepted the thin notebook from the mage.

"Master Spike also hoped that I could speak with the slave about what spell his previous masters used," he glanced over at the gagged man, "but if you have other uses for his mouth, I can come back later." He gave Angel another bow and then waited. Angel looked over toward Lindsey and Wesley, not sure whether Lindsey was ready to have a civil conversation.

"What does Master Spike hope to learn?" Wesley asked, stepping forward. He was dressed, but his cheeks still had the red marks from wearing the gag over night, and Angel wondered if he would be embarrassed if he knew that. There was so much Angel didn't understand about the people he was claiming as his own.

"I have told him that I am not a dark mage and I have limited knowledge about the sorts of slavery that would claim a soul, even after death, but he seems to think that I have more practical knowledge with the dark arts than anyone else in court. I imagine he is right on that count." The man smiled at Wesley, and Angel took a step back, tacitly inviting the man inside his quarters.

"You aren't a dark mage?" Wesley seemed surprised at that, and the truth was, Angel was as well.

"Ah, no. Master Spike uses a number of blessings on the lair." The mage lifted his arms and gestured at the building around them. "Witch Tara is very talented, and the various white magic fetishes and blessings would make it rather difficult for a dark mage. Apparently Master Spike has had quite the trouble with dark mages." He made a face that almost looked amused. "I do green magic."

"Really?" Wesley's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Good heavens. I had thought that discipline was nearly extinct."

The mage laughed. "So many young users tend toward dark or light magics or even the technomagics, but the nature magics and the chaos magics hold just as much power as the others. Do I take it you are a student of magics?" The older man's smile invited Wesley to share more, and Angel studied this new mage. Should he allow him access to Wesley? If he was supposed to be caring for Wesley, surely that meant he should make sure Wesley was not in any danger. He took a step toward Spike's mage, and Wesley fell silent.

"If you would allow it, Master Angel. I assure you that I am loyal to Master Spike and would do nothing to endanger the members of your court," Spike's mage hurried to add.

Angel expected Wesley to furiously protest that he had a right to speak with whomever he liked, but the man was extraordinarily quiet. "Perhaps Lindsey is in a mood to answer some questions," Angel said instead of giving that permission.

"Of course," the mage offered.

"I'm sorry, I missed your name," Wesley stepped forward and offered his hand without answering the man's question about Wesley's own interest in magic.

"Harry, Harry McMillian."

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." They shook hands while Angel unlocked and unbuckled Lindsey's gag. Lindsey was rolling his eyes but at least he managed to remain quiet.

"Remember, you only have permission to speak to me," Angel reminded him.

"How long are you going to keep playing this game, Angel? I know you. This is not your style."

"You do not know me that well," Angel said firmly as he took hold of the man's arm and walked him over to the edge of the bed and forced him to sit. The fact was that Angel hadn't known himself because he was enjoying this perhaps a little too much. "If you have a question for Lindsey, ask it," Angel told Harry.

"Thank you, Master Angel. Now Lindsey, I know that the spell bound your soul, even after death, and the fact that Angel had a prior claim means that it was put in place after you first approached Angel in Los Angeles. However, I know little else. Do you know what the spell was?"

Lindsey had the good sense to look to Angel for permission to speak. Angel nodded and then rewarded that behavior by running his thumb over the red pinpricks from Angel's feeding. Lindsey shivered. "I signed a non-compete agreement after going back to Wolfram and Hart, but I never sold myself into slavery."

Harry snorted.

"Watch yourself, mage," Angel warned, his eyes turning yellow. He would give Wesley some room to adjust, but Spike's mage would pay if he made Lindsey feel uncomfortable.

Harry blushed. "I apologize, Master Angel. No doubt the young one believes that."

"But it's not true?" Angel guessed.

"No, Master. A dark mage can enslave the body, as can a technomage or even a nature mage as myself. In fact, the papers I brought were to offer a number of slavery spells. Master Spike said that you were to choose whichever was of interest to you. However, I cannot enslave a soul, and a dark mage can only enslave a soul that has given itself freely to the evil."

"Like seeing that he's working for a murderous demon and going back in return for a promotion?" Wesley asked.

"Wesley," Angel warned. He oddly felt like he was playing the part of the mother between two squabbling siblings in this family drama.

Wesley blushed. "I hardly have clean hands myself. I chose to follow the watchers long after I realized that they were preying on girls who were too young to care for themselves. Their definition of training rarely included anything as mundane as reading or learning to function in the world, and the potential slayers were often removed from homes as young as five. So, I am not condemning Lindsey; however, it does seem likely that Lindsey sold his soul."

Angel looked down. "Lindsey?" he asked.

"I didn't sell my soul," Lindsey said mulishly. Angel nodded. Clearly he had and he was not yet ready to face reality. Wesley opened his mouth to continue to argue, and Angel tossed the binder Harry had given him toward Wesley as a distraction.

"What are these?" Wesley caught the binder, dropped it, and then grabbed it off the floor. "Oh dear."

"Wesley?" Angel took a step forward so he could see what had alarmed Wesley enough that the blood had largely drained from his face.

"Ah, the leucochloridium worms enslavement spell." Harry sounded pleased. "That is quite a difficult spell, but if a form of slavery exists in nature, I can harness nature's intent and bend it toward human slavery."

"This is reprehensible." Wesley's voice came out as a horrified whisper.

"It is rather drastic," Harry agreed. He looked up at Angel, that same genial smile in place. "The worm enters a snail through eggs left in bird droppings. It then reproduces, takes over the snail's brain and forces the beast into the full sunlight. The worm fills the eye sack with eggs that pulse and make the entire stalk bulge until they appear to be two caterpillars. A bird sees that and either rips the snail from the shell or simply rips off the snail's face, eating both it and the worm eggs. If the snail is particularly unlucky, it survives having its eyestalks ripped off simply to regrow them and repeat the procedure. Were you to choose such a drastic form of slavery, you would have almost complete control over your slave's body. He would do as you wished even if it would be sure to lead to certain death."

Wesley looked over in complete horror, and Angel could only stare in shock at the man who was offering to perform such a horrifying spell. He shouldn't be surprised given that the mage worked for Spike. The smell of terror swept over him, and Angel turned to see that Lindsey had gone dangerously pale.

"I assure you, the procedure is not nearly as drastic as some dark magics. It still cannot enslave the soul." For the first time, Harry sounded unsure. "There are certainly other spells in there if you would rather look at all the offerings. Nature is rather fond of slavery in any number of forms." Harry started backing toward the door. "Perhaps you should ignore the leucochloridium and osedax worms altogether." He cleared his throat. "Cuckoos and cleaner fish and remoras are all interesting options." He was backing up now, his hand feeling for the knob. "Perhaps I should leave you with the choice. If you need any clarification, please do not hesitate to call on me, Master Angel." He stood, his hand on the doorknob, clearly begging for permission to leave.

Angel waved his hand for him to go, not even watching the man flee.

"So, is that my future?" Lindsey asked with the sort of stoic horror that made it clear that he expected Angel to say yes.

"Good lord, no. I should think not," Wesley blurted out before Angel could answer. Angel stepped closer and let his hand rest on Lindsey's shoulder, ignoring the flinch. "We really should not be shocked considering that the nature mages have a long history of rather dubious alliances. In the 1300's a number of green mages made a pact with a dark mage named—"

"Wesley," Angel said softly. The man stopped and looked over to where Angel was slowly stroking Lindsey's shoulder. Lindsey still stank of terror and his body was rigid.

"Ah, yes. Clearly we will not be using Mage McMillian's skills." Wesley walked over and sat on the bed a few feet from Lindsey, the binder still clutched in his hand. Now Angel could see the full color picture of a snail with its eye stalks swollen and pussy and florescent green. Lindsey lost a little more color.

"Is that what you have planned for me?" Lindsey asked again, looking up at Angel.

"No," Angel said firmly.

"But you plan to keep me in slavery?"

Angel sighed. "I plan to prevent you from selling your soul to any more demons."

"I never—" Lindsey stopped when Angel held up his hand.

"Even if you did not consent to the spell, you helped a group that murders innocents and targets children. They tried to rip Cordelia's eyes out to get her visions. I will not allow you to continue to make those kinds of choices."

"Hell hath no fury like a vampire thwarted," Lindsey quipped, some of his sarcasm returning. Hopefully that was a good sign; however, Angel feared that it might be a sign that he was catching his second wind to continue their fight. He looked up, and Angel could see the craftiness return to his gaze. "So, do you plan to enslave every Wolfram and Hart lawyer?"

"Every single one who comes to me looking for a way out," Angel agreed. "You put yourself in my court, and I thought I was doing you a favor by allowing you to go home. Clearly, we both made a mistake, but I will not turn you lose so you can target my court with more of your schemes."

Lindsey looked away, and a heavy silence fell on the room. Angel stared at the wall, not sure what he was supposed to do now, but he could feel the responsibility like a weight on his chest.

"Good god. May I say that I had no idea nature was quite so creative in its admiration for slavery." Wesley interrupted the silence, flipping pages. Angel saw a line of ants on one page and a colorful orange and white fish on another. Now Angel could smell Wesley's fear, and the scent pulled on his demon. Wesley would taste so good now. If he pushed Wesley down and licked the sweat from his body, it would be strong with fear-musk and delicious. His blood would taste tart with the spice of adrenalin.

"This is interesting." Angel looked over to see a gray fish with a neon blue streak. Wesley tilted the book in Lindsey's direction, and for a second, Lindsey carefully didn't look at it. Eventually curiosity won. "Labroides. Cleaner fish. They have full and independent lives with mates and broods." Oddly, that didn't seem to make Wesley all that happy. Angel studied the man carefully.

"May I speak?" Lindsey asked. The clipped words were clearly difficult for him to say, and Angel nodded, giving permission. Lindsey turned to look at Wesley. "What enslaves them?"

Wesley shrugged. "Technically nothing. However, predator fish come to their cleaning grounds and the cleaner fish appear to only be able to live by eating the parasites and loose skin from those predators. The spell makes the slave dependent on an owner for nourishment, but nothing else." Wesley's voice was flat, and Angel moved to Lindsey's other side so he was standing between them. He rested his other hand on Wesley's shoulder. The fear smell from Wesley lessened, but so did the lust smell. When Spike had chained Angel in the basement, it was Wesley who had risked Spike's anger by following, and even now, Angel could taste the desire when he bit. The man had been dangerously loyal before, but now he was, most likely, addicted to the bite. Those clues added to the fact that he was sitting on Angel's bed discussing slavery tempted Angelus from the darker corners of Angel's mind.

"I would prefer to use the same spell with you both, and I'm not sure that one would remind Lindsey of his place." Angel kept his voice carefully neutral and his gaze focused on the book. He pretended to not notice when Wesley's gaze snapped up to him and Wesley swallowed convulsively.

"You must have seen that one coming," Lindsey said with just a hint of derision. Angel opened his mouth to correct the man, but again, Wesley jumped in there too quickly for him. Obviously, Angel was going to have to learn to talk faster.

"Actually, I did not," he snapped. Then he took a deep breath. "However, I am the first to admit that I put myself in this position, and I am not going to do anything as silly as insisting that life is being unfair. I chose to come to Angel. Anyone who knows vampire hierarchy understands that the species is hardwired to expect certain things like unwavering loyalty."

"And slavery," Lindsey said dryly.

"And slavery," Wesley agreed, his back straight, but his scent was so full of lust that Angel was having a hard time controlling his own body. He shifted his hand so that his fingers rested against the back of Wesley's neck and his thumb stroked over the tiny feeding scars. "The worms are still non-negotiable," Wesley suddenly blurted, looking up at Angel with defiance.

"Of course," Angel immediately agreed. He could hear in the tone that Wesley was not going to budge on that one, and quite frankly, the idea of having that sort of complete control was beyond terrifying. Angel needed Wesley to argue with him.

"So, you're simply going to go along with this?" Lindsey demanded.

Wesley shrugged. "You went along with Wolfram and Hart. I don't suppose this is any different."

"You're setting yourself up for slavery," Lindsey pointed out. Wesley looked over, leaning forward slightly to look around Angel, and Angel could read that expression as easily as if Wesley had called Lindsey an idiot, reminding him that he had set himself up as a perpetual slave to the law firm. Surprisingly, Lindsey didn't answer with denials this time.

"And you people call yourselves the good guys." Lindsey shook his head.

"The cuckoo bird pushes other birds' eggs out of the nest," Wesley said, ignoring Lindsey altogether. "The spell makes the slave push his own needs aside for his owner."

Angel shook his head. "I am not good enough at remembering your needs. You must keep those for yourself until I learn better," Angel said softly, still stroking his thumb over Wesley's scar. The man was choosing a form of slavery for himself. He was smelling more content than ever because he was choosing a spell to bind himself to Angel. Lindsey still smelled of outrage and fear, but the demon in Angel reveled in that, too.

"Clownfish and anemones is a rather general spell and the master can be left weakened if the slave dies," Wesley's tone made it clear that he disapproved of that as he flipped to the next page in the binder. "Considering that Lindsey and I are human, I suspect we shall both predecease you, so that would not be appropriate."

Angel sat down beside Wesley and looked at the book, his fingers still tracing across Wesley's neck. "This is rather promising. Anglerfish."

"You can't be serious," Lindsey interrupted, but Angel ignored him and focused on Wesley. They still had some time before the Groosalugg was due to come. Not much, but then Angel didn't need much time.

"The male attaches to the female and slowly becomes part of her. The spell makes it impossible for the slaves to ever leave their master and they draw energy from him. Look at it this way, Lindsey, it may give us both a longer life if we are able to draw from Angel's strength."

"A longer life as a slave." Lindsey was still not sounding happy, but Wesley smelled of contentment. His choice had been made. Angel stood up and slipped his hand around the back of Wesley's neck, pulling him up with one hand and plucking the binder away from him with the other. Tossing the binder to one side, Angel pulled him around to the far side of the bed.

"Fuck. Can I go to the bathroom while you do this?" Lindsey asked.

Angel shook his head. "Lay on the edge of the bed on your stomach, Lindsey," Angel ordered.

"What, you want my help in my own rape?" Lindsey stood up altogether. Angel had one hand on Wesley's hip and the other around his neck, and he did not have a spare hand for Lindsey or his discipline. Not now.

"I have already told you that I will not rape you. I will not, however, be happy if I must stop and secure you every time I have a better use for my time." Angel could feel his fangs drop. "So get on your stomach at the edge of the bed and be a quiet boy while I enjoy myself. And as of right now, consider your permission to speak to me revoked. Every single word will be one swat. Every second that you stand there without obeying my order will be one swat." Angel looked at Lindsey calmly. This felt right. He wasn't angry or out of control. He wasn't reacting to prophecy or fears. This was what he wanted and what Wesley wanted, and in time, it would be what Lindsey wanted. Otherwise Lindsey never would have come to Angel for help to escape the evil choices he had made in his life. That same need had driven Angel first to Whistler and then to Buffy, and if either of them had offered him a clear path as he offered Lindsey, Angel very well might have chosen it. He'd wanted that with Buffy. He'd allowed himself to yield to her, but instead, he'd inadvertently yielded to the demon inside of him.

After two seconds, Lindsey lowered himself back down to the bed and lay on his stomach facing the wall, his bound hands clenched into fists.

"Perhaps we should go to my room," Wesley suggested softly after Lindsey had obeyed.

"I don't think I want to wait," Angel said rather selfishly. The smell of lust from Wesley nearly overwhelmed him. Angel unbuttoned Wesley's pants and carefully pulled the zipper down. Wesley wasn't hard, but his cock was swelling some, and considering that they had already had sex twice in the last six hours, that was a rather impressive feat. Angel unbuttoned Wesley's shirt and then eased him back onto the bed.

Wesley reached up for Angel, and Angel caught his wrists and put them over Wesley's head. "If I didn't have the Groosalugg to deal with, I would tie your hands to the bedhead and gag you. I do love the sound of your helpless moaning," Angel admitted. If he admitted that to anyone else, he would have felt guilty about it, but not Wesley. Wesley enjoyed being helpless, and maybe it was his enjoyment that made it possible for Angel to revel in the man's helplessness.

Kneeling up, Angel pulled Wesley's pants off and tossed them at the foot of the bed before unzipping his own pants. His cock pressed forward, and the pheromones from Wesley were intoxicating. Angel took the base of his cock in his hand and reached up to pull at Wesley's nipple. Arching his back, Wesley gasped and squirmed, his body radiating heat. Before Angel could even ask, Wesley raised his legs, bracing them on Angel's shoulders. It was Wesley favorite position, folded double under Angel's strength. Helpless. Wesley had his own darkness, and even his darkness had molded itself to fit against Angel's needs.

Angel smiled, and he could feel his own darker nature sliding along the edge of his control as he pressed forward, forcing Wesley's legs up. "Such a pretty, wanton boy," Angel said before lining his cock up with Wesley's opening. The man was still loose and slick from the morning's play, and Angel slipped the head of his cock in and stopped.

"Angel!" Wesley protested, groaning loudly.

"Should make ye beg for it, but I want you too much," Angel admitted. Pressing forward, he grunted at the heat and pressure around his cock, the smell of Wesley's lust and Lindsey's indignation rising to meet him. It was a buffet of smells. Angel thrust forward, driving the breath out of Wesley before he leaned down and sucked on the skin of his scar, tasting the sweat. Wesley wiggled, and Angel arched his back, pulling out a little before driving back in. He hadn't made more than four or five thrusts when he came with a loud grunt. Even though he had just fed from Wesley, his teeth sank into the willing flesh until he could taste the coppery lust.

Angel breathed deeply, losing himself in the smells and tastes for a moment before he pulled out first his fangs and then his cock. Wesley let his legs flop back down onto the bed the second Angel sat up.

"Good lord. I think I my legs have gone boneless."

"I hope not. We still have problems to solve, and would like you at my side," Angel said. He didn’t have much to offer Wesley in the way of romance, but the man smiled at him anyway.

"Of course. The Groosalugg. We should discuss battle strategy, just as soon as I can gather a few brain cells."

Angel settled his weight down on top of Wesley, pinning the man to the bed. Wesley opened his eyes a crack to look at him. While Angel didn't say anything, Wesley slowly smiled as though Angel had just offered endearments. He smiled and he reached up to pat Angel on the shoulder and then he lay under Angel's weight, his body slowly calming so that contentment drowned out the lust.

Read Readers' Comments

Lindsey could feel his face get hotter with each person they passed in the hallways of this cavernous building that must have, at one point, been the world's largest warehouse.

"Is it true? Is Groo here?" A girl with long brown hair and an accent right out of Texas bounced up, another woman in her wake. The first woman was Fred, but Lindsey didn't know the second one. Actually, now that he had a closer look, he realized she was at least part demon with ridges along the sides of her face. The demon-woman with long black hair looked at Lindsey with undisguised curiosity, and Lindsey could feel his face get hotter. Fuck it all. What the fuck had he done to deserve getting gagged and tied and dragged around on a leash? Angel could make all the noises he wanted about the good fight, but the fact was that people were just looking out for themselves. That's all Lindsey had done, looked out for himself. He sure as hell hadn't murdered anyone or raped some kid or anything else that would warrant a life sentence.

A trio of faces darted through his memory, but Lindsey pushed that thought aside as he mentally focused on preparing his closing arguments on his own appeal. Ladies and gentleman of the jury, he would start, should a vampire who had killed thousands, tortured hundreds, earned a reputation as one who specifically enjoyed eviscerating nuns—should this vampire really be given control and custody of a man whose only sin is self-preservation? I say no. I say you must free Lindsey McDonald.

Unfortunately, with the gag in his mouth and Angel keeping him on a leash, Lindsey doubted he'd get a chance to make his arguments. The ironic thing was that Lindsey had been considering leaving Wolfram and Hart. The others were wrong about his soul being enslaved because if that were true, he never could have even considered leaving the law firm, and he had been. He'd seen a lot of schemes that had convinced him that maybe they were not a group he could afford to work for.

The girls and Wesley had finished their little mutual cheer session. Yay, Groo was here. Yay, they were in time to save Cordelia. Yay, Lindsey didn't give a rat's ass about any of their ridiculous problems. He pretty much tuned them out until Angel tugged on his leash, and he was forced to follow.

He could hear the noise from the gathered crowd before they turned the corner into a huge hallway that led to a pair of steel double-doors. Lindsey stopped, fear running through his veins as he thought of some of the activities Wolfram and Hart had sponsored. Gladiator fighting, public executions, ritual sacrifice—Lindsey was not interested in being center stage at any of these.

The leash pulled tight, and still Lindsey didn't move. That forced Angel to turn, and the expression on Angel's face did not improve Lindsey's mood at all. The vampire was already yellow eyed. Lindsey knew Angel was supposed to fight at this event they were going to, but he had the sudden fear that he might be the prize. Angel sure wasn't going to trade away his teacher's pet. Oh no, moaning and wiggling Wyndam-Pryce would never get traded away, not as long as he was playing good little fucking whore. Picking out his own slavery spell—Lindsey had to give the man credit for an ability to manipulate; that was right up there with Lilah.

"Don't test my patience," Angel warned. With his free hand, he reached out and caught Lindsey by the back of the neck. Unlike Wyndam-Pryce, Lindsey was not interested in playing good little slave, and he shied away."

"Angel, you need to stay focused," Wesley said, his voice taut. Lindsey glared at the man. Fucking teacher's pet. But this time, Angel didn't turn to his pet right away.

"Lindsey?" Angel cocked his head to the side and then pulled the key for the gag out of his pants pocket. He opened the lock quickly, and Lindsey stretched his lips, hating the way they felt after having plastic pressed against them so long. "What are you so afraid of?" Angel asked. Lindsey stiffened. A couple of vampires were watching from the far end of the hall, Fred and her demon girl were staring, and worst of all, Wesley was there with his English prim and proper.

"Who said I'm afraid? This is me pissed off," Lindsey pointed out.

"I can smell your fear." Angel said it so calmly, but the words made Lindsey want to kick him right in the balls.

"Whatever you're going to do, just fucking do it. Or maybe you really are still the pansy you've always been in the past, some Eurotrash vampire—" Lindsey's words were cut off by Angel grabbing him around the throat hard enough that tears came to his eyes.

"I have told you to be polite. That will be two more hits," Angel said, and again, he had that weirdly calm voice that bothered Lindsey more than all his yelling and ranting. Holland Manners had been like that... nicest right before he served your guts up to some demonic client for lunch. "I have a fight to focus on, and I cannot keep track of your foolishness right now. Either Spike or Dalton will hold your leash, and I can promise you one thing, neither one of them has the patience I do. They just might take permanent action if they find your tongue too offensive. Understood?"

Lindsey gave a small nod, but that seemed to be enough to satisfy Angel. He turned back toward the double doors.

"Perhaps you should gag him," Wesley said softly. Fucking teacher's pet.

"His breathing is erratic. I can't take that risk when I'm not there to monitor him. I doubt either Spike or Dalton would care if he panicked and suffocated."

"That is true," Wesley said thoughtfully. After that, Lindsey tuned them out as they discussed fight strategy and weapons and challenge rituals. It was all entirely too boring to pay attention to. Besides, Lindsey had more interesting things to notice.

Xander Harris was sitting at Master Spike's feet. The man had a reputation as a deadly demon hunter, but right now he was looking up at Spike with wide brown eyes, his hands clasped around Master Spike's leg as he bounced a little in excitement. And unless Lindsey was seeing things, the man had a tail. Considering that Harris was buck naked and giving everyone in the room a nice view of his ass, Lindsey could definitively say it wasn't a costume.

Lindsey really was having a hard time thinking of this big-eyed doe of a man as some stone-cold killer, but most of the demons in L.A. told stories about Harris. He'd trained with the slayer, the great Buffy. She had taken down a hellgod and about half of the demonic population of Sunnydale before she'd been taken down by Master Spike. And now, Master Spike turned his boy, his sex toy, loose to kill demons who trespassed on clan territory. It was quite the humiliation to have a clan member or spawn killed by some lowly human, and Harris had taken out more than his share.

Looking around, Lindsey spotted the other human hunter. There were a number of different stories about this one. Some said he was a rescued human, others that he was a soldier who had challenged Master Spike. He'd lost his challenge, but he'd impressed Master Spike so much that the vampire had claimed Riley as his own and then presented him as a present to his first childe. Yet others claimed he was a friend of Harris from when Harris had been free, someone who had chosen to join Spike's clan after the slayer fell, and humans in Master Spike's court had a limited number of job opportunities. The story didn't matter so much to Lindsey; he was more interested in the man. Riley.

Riley was kneeling beside a woman who Lindsey would have described as plain. She was the sort Lindsey had become adept at charming and then using. However, the way her fingers stroked Riley's hair, it was pretty clear that she was his owner, which meant vampire. Most likely, this was Spike's only childe, Dalton. Riley rested his hands on his knees, his cock caged and on display for everyone who passed, but he didn't seem to even notice. He leaned his shoulder into the woman's knee and watched the room with suspicious eyes that found Lindsey and then stared with a wary warning that made it pretty clear he would be willing to attack... just as soon as his owner gave permission. Lindsey was reminded of a pit bull his older brother owned. That was a human he could see hunting down demons.

The north side of the building was lined with two sets of benches, one higher than the other—like bleachers. The women sprawled over those benches had the same cheek ridges as Fred's friend, and several had elaborate tattoos up the side of their face and neck.

Lindsey had worked for Russell Winters, but as much as that vamp had cared about status, he'd never had the sort of court that was gathered here. He'd taken Lindsey with him once to visit another Master Vampire, one who was more interested in tradition that computers and corporate structure the way Mr. Winters had been, but even that court paled next to this one. There were so many people here. A dozen vampire minions in game face wandered through the shadows. Demons with sagging skin brought trays of food and joked. A blue woman leaned over to whisper in Spike's ear, and the old mage who had so helpfully offered the slavery spell was sitting on a low cushion to Master Spike's left, talking to another of the wrinkle-faced demons.

"I'll get our seats," Fred said, and she darted off toward two benches sitting near Spike's right.

"I should probably join Fred and Soshie," Wesley said, but he didn't move away from Angel's side. Lindsey wondered why Angel was bothering with a slave spell on this one. But Angel just patted Wesley on the arm and nodded, giving him permission, and off Wesley went like a good little puppy.

The thought of puppies brought Lindsey's attention back to Xander, and he watched as the man basically squirmed his way under Spike's arm and into his lap. Lindsey would cut off his own balls before he would do that. And yet, demons whispered Harris' name like a curse. 'Don't get caught on the hellmouth; the Master won't even bother with anyone as small as you. He'll send Harris out to stake you.'

"If I hear one report of bad behavior, you will be sorry," Angel whispered in Lindsey's ear. Lindsey clenched his jaw and struggled against saying any number of bitterly sarcastic comments that wanted out. "Do I need to gag you? I can, but I can't promise that Spike or Dalton would pay you much attention if you got in trouble."

"I'm fine. I don't need to be gagged." Lindsey almost kept the sarcasm out of his voice, but not quite. Angel was still looking at him with a narrow-eyed glare when Riley rose to his feet and padded over, his head carefully bowed and his neck covered in tiny, almost invisible scars.

"Master Angel," he said softly, "Master Dalton has offered to tend your newest slave until you're done." Riley delivered his message and then stood, his hands behind his back and his head down. Lindsey could see the muscle on him. He was an impressive man, and yet he was utterly silent, waiting for Angel's decision. Lindsey rolled his eyes and Angel procrastinated on even this simple choice.

"Tell her that I would like him back unscarred," Angel finally said, holding Lindsey's leash out.

"Yes, Master Angel," Riley agreed, taking it. For one irrational second, Lindsey's brain screamed at him to run. He could probably pull the leash out of Riley's hand. Then he'd only be barefoot, bound, and dressed only in a pair of sweats in the middle of a vampire lair. That was not his best plan.

Riley turned around, and Lindsey's thoughts fled as he saw the mass of scars on the man's back. Holy mother of god. There wasn't an inch that wasn't jagged or slick with scar tissue. Some scars were long lines, like a rod had cut the skin from his back. Others looked like someone had tried to take a bite out of him. If Dalton were sadistic enough to do that to a human she petted tenderly, Lindsey did not care to think what she would do to him. That's why Angel had warned her.

Lindsey suddenly wished he had one solid argument for staying near Angel. Hell, at this point, he'd settle for sitting with teacher's pet Pryce who was whispering with Fred on those benches near Spike. Instead Riley was leading him to Master Dalton who had her own impressive throne near the doors where she could intercept anyone who bothered her sire's court. Lindsey held his breath as they approached her, not sure of the rules, but suddenly very certain that he didn't want to break them.

Riley knelt next to Dalton, and Lindsey awkwardly got to his knees in front of them. Fuck. The floor was hard. He shifted back to put more of his weight on his heels and Dalton's yellow gaze fell on him. Lindsey froze.

"Were you ever so poorly mannered?" she asked, her fingers threading through Riley's hair.

"No, mistress. Or if I was, I can't remember it anymore," Riley answered. "I don't think he's used to kneeling and the floor is hard when you don't have a cushion." Lindsey glanced down and saw a thin pad under Riley's knees.

Dalton tilted her head. "If you were mine, you would kneel there until you learned that your pain is less significant than your need to please me," she said darkly, and Lindsey glanced over his shoulder. Angel was talking to Master Spike, and Lindsey was fairly sure that screaming for help would be considered bad behavior. "You are lucky you aren't mine. Sit if you cannot kneel properly."

Riley tugged at the leash, and Lindsey sat awkwardly. With his arms bound at the wrists and elbows, he had to sit up straight. Lindsey hated having Dalton and Riley to his back, but his other choice was having the rest of the room at his back, so he and he crossed his legs and squirmed to see the room. Angel was still talking to Spike, but now he was looking over at them.

"Wha—" Lindsey gasped as Riley caught him around the chest and easily pulled him back until his bound arms were up against Dalton's chair.

"Good manners, Lindsey. Humans who are dinner try to stay as far from vampires as possible. If you're planning on being something other than dinner, you sit close enough that they can touch or smell you as they like," Riley said in a matter-of-fact voice that Lindsey actually found rather disturbing. He also disliked that Riley tied Lindsey's leash to the arm of the chair with so little slack that Lindsey couldn't even lean away. "After all, they have to invest considerable time and effort to keep us healthy, so the least we can do is provide them a little enjoyment in return."

"I am not sure I would invest the effort in one who smells of such rebellion." Dalton sounded annoyed, and Lindsey pulled against the leash, grimacing when the choke chain tightened. Clearly he was not going to get a choice in this. "I prefer my own taste in humans." Dalton looked at Riley hungrily.

"Yes, mistress," Riley answered calmly. Lindsey wondered how he could be so calm around a woman who clearly enjoyed causing him great pain.

Riley moved to Dalton's other side, only instead of kneeling, he sat at her feet and leaned into her leg, his arm resting in her lap. She ran her fingertips over his arm and then brought a foot up to rest against his thigh.

"You would like it if I put you on your back and rode you."

"Yes, mistress." Riley didn't even blush. Lindsey could feel himself blushing just out of sympathy for the man, but Riley was clearly used to it.

"Considering that this fight will decide what our ally's clan will look like, we cannot leave."

"Yes, mistress."

"So, it's Master Angel's fault if you're frustrated."

Riley sighed and shifted, and now Lindsey could see the plastic cage with Riley's cock pressed against it, struggling to harden. That had to hurt, but he didn't comment. He simply laid his cheek against Dalton's knee and watched the room. Dalton continued to stroke Riley's arm with one hand and stroke his hair with the other.

"Will Angel keep this one?"

Lindsey looked up at Dalton, but she was still looking at Riley, petting him like a dog, and he was slowly losing his military stiffness and starting to look a lot like Xander who was sprawled over Spike like a blanket.

"Probably, mistress. Master Angel feels responsible for him."

Lindsey opened his mouth to argue that point, but Riley gave him a withering look that made him close it again. Angel might be a dickless wonder, but Dalton clearly knew how to use torture, and until he could get away, Lindsey intended to avoid that.

"Why would Angel be responsible? Doesn't he belong to Angel's enemies?"

"He did, mistress." Riley paused, and Lindsey was almost biting through his tongue just to keep quiet. He was Lindsey McDonald. He didn't fucking belong to anyone. He was going to tattoo that on someone's forehead. "But I once belonged to a suckhouse, mistress. Will you one day give me back because I once belonged to someone else?"

Lindsey gasped when her hand darted out and grabbed a fistful of Riley's hair. Yanking him to his feet, she pulled him close, her eyes yellow as she wrapped her other hand around Riley's throat. "I don't care who you once belonged to, you are mine and you will stay mine." Several members of the court had turned to look, but instead of trying to defend himself, Riley let his eyes close and his head tilt to the side. "Yes, mistress."

She shifted one hand to his waist and pulled him so close that he grunted before she drove her teeth into his neck. Lindsey was afraid to even breathe, but Riley's one hand traced patterns in Dalton's arm until she finally pulled her teeth out.

Her lips were unnaturally red, and she continued to hold him close. "Mine." The word was almost a growl. Riley put his head down on her shoulder and brought up one of his legs to drape over her knee so that he was almost sitting in her lap. His other leg was still braced against the ground though. It was an odd and awkward position, but they both held it for long seconds. Then Dalton patted Riley's side, and he slid down her body and went back to sitting at her feet.

"Angel had Lindsey. He thought he had put Lindsey somewhere safe, and then he woke up to find that his enemies had reclaimed him."

Dalton shook her head. "He should keep better track of his toys."

"Yes, mistress," Riley agreed. "Especially when his toy wants power as badly as I want the drugs my last owners used to control me. He'll run if he can, and he'll hurt Angel if he can."

"Then Angel should kill him," Dalton offered without any emotion.

Lindsey was starting to feel light-headed from lack of oxygen, but it was difficult to keep breathing when people were discussing life and death issues—your life and death—and they expected you to just stay quiet. Only the sight of Riley's back kept Lindsey from telling all these people exactly what he thought.

"Perhaps you should kill me and get a pet who is not so damaged," Riley said softly. It was an idiotic thing to say to a vampire, but Dalton smiled, her fingers tugging at Riley's hair affectionately.

"I'm too busy to do anything so logical," she said. "Besides, I'm well-known for my irrational preferences."

"Yes, mistress. We are both well known for that." Riley smiled up at her. "And as much as it pains me to admit any similarity with Master Angel, he is just as irrational as the rest of us." Riley put his head back down against her leg and wrapped his arms around one of her legs so that he looked like the mirror image of Xander's position when Lindsey had first come into the room. Right now Xander was draped all over Spike, and Spike was playing with his balls while Xander squirmed, his mouth open and gasping. Either that or he was trying to not scream, Lindsey wasn't sure just what Spike was doing to Xander's testicles, so either was possible.

"If Master Angel is going to choose this one to be irrational with, he had better get more chains. I could teach him some of the training techniques I used on you," she said thoughtfully. "You reacted very well to the whip and tawse."

"Yes, mistress." Riley sounded unbothered, but if training had left the scars on Riley's back, Lindsey definitely needed to keep Angel away from either of these two. On his own, Angel had proven over and over that he couldn't handle humans. He was moral milquetoast unless he had a clear side he was supposed to take. Oh, he could fight demons. He was terrifyingly good in battle, which is what had made him such a draw in the gladiator ring, but humans were his giant Achilles heel, and Lindsey did not need him to pick up any new habits.

Lindsey was learning a lot through the conversation, but when a large man walked in through the double doors with a huge smile on his face, Lindsey lost his best source of information yet. The whole room fell silent, and Riley back stiffened again, like a guard dog bothered by a stranger in his territory. So this was the Groosalugg.

Lindsey half-listened, bored as Spike outlined the rules, which came down to there were no rules, try not to kill any of the spectators. Angel promised the man a place equal to Cordelia as his second-in-command if he lost. Blah blah honor. The Groosalugg promised to make Angel his first lieutenant and honor his subordinates if Angel lost.

Lindsey rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. The Groosalugg had been part of one of the Wolfram and Hart slave worlds, one of those nasty little corners of the universe that employees were sometimes sent to spend the rest of their lives in chains digging onions out of a demon's garden when they failed in their performance assessments. Lindsey had always promised himself that he was too good to ever be sent to the Groosalugg's world, and now the Groosalugg had come to him. The saying about Mohammed and the mountain came to mind.

But he didn't have much time to ponder that because Groo and Angel threw themselves at each other fiercely. The fight raged across the room. At one point, Lindsey was certain that the Groosalugg had won. He'd thrown Angel across the room. Demon women scattered, and Angel crashed through the benches they had been sitting in just moments before. Splintered wood surrounded the vampire, and the Groosalugg leaped in. But somehow Angel twisted away, and picking up a broken board, he slammed it across the Groosalugg's face. The demon warrior stumbled back and the fight was on again.

Each of them went down a half dozen times, and still they fought on. Angel caught the Groosalugg on the back of the knee, and the man fell forward, but this time, Angel was close enough to press his advantage. Grabbing the Groosalugg by the head, Angel forced his neck to bend right before biting deeply. Lindsey sucked in a hard breath. He'd seen Angel fight. He'd watched the man in surveillance video and in the gladiator ring, and Angel never used his teeth to win a fight. Yet, now he was. The Wolfram and Hart psychologists had said that Angel's refusal to feed from his opponents was a psychological 'tell' and a great advantage. Lindsey wondered what they would say if they had the tape of this fight.

The Groosalugg was still moving, but his movements were slow and sluggish now. Angel stood up, and the Groosalugg remained on his knees, clearly beaten. Walking around to the front, Angel offered him a hand, pulling the Groosalugg onto his feet.

"It was a good fight." The Groosalugg was clearly an idiot, congratulating the man who had just forced him into submission. Then again, if Angel were embracing more of his vampire nature, maybe the Groosalugg was just a survivor trying to survive.

"It was," Angel agreed. "I look forward to fighting at your side."

The Groosalugg's smile was wide enough for a toothpaste commercial as he slapped Angel on the arm. "I shall look forward do that day. But this day, I understand the queen needs me."

"Bloody hell, you two will get along right as rain." Spike sounded bored even though he had watched the entire fight sitting on the edge of his seat, his hands twitching with every attack. "So, are you following Angel?" Spike held up a hand to stop the Groosalugg from answering. "And before you say anything, remember this, mate. Angel answers to me. You bend your knee to him, and that means you're mine to call if I get the urge. Got it?"

Groosalugg drew himself up straight and walked to a spot in front of Spike where he dropped to one knee, rested an arm on other knee, and bent his head. He looked like a poster of a knight about to be given a title by his king. "My sword is yours sire, if you ever call on it."

Spike snorted. Lindsey was starting to feel a kinship with Spike because that's pretty much what he thought of the Groosalugg's ridiculous offering. "Just make sure you don't forget it or I'll come to LA and remind you."

"Yes, my lord," Groo answered. Standing up, he backed up several steps. "Can I see Cordelia now?"

"Show him the way, pet."

Lindsey wasn't sure who Spike meant, but Xander got up from his place next to Spike's chair. "Come on, I'll show you," he offered, walking through the room easily, despite the fact he was naked. As they passed near Lindsey, he could see the wiry muscles and grace the made the man such a deadly killer. He could also see the curls that brushed against the back of his thighs as he walked. That was an actual tail. Lindsey felt slightly nauseous.

"So, Angel, any thoughts on how you want to handle your new pet?" Spike turned his head, and Lindsey froze as the attention in the room turned toward him.

"Clearly I have to keep him on a tight leash," Angel said thoughtfully.

"Bloody right. And you don't have time to babysit him. I used the cuckoo spell on that one." Spike poked a thumb toward the mage. Lindsey's shock was reflected in Angel's expression.

"That is a strong spell, Master Angel," the mage agreed amiably. "Master Spike never has to worry about me developing any needs of my own. But then, I'm old enough that if I have a soft bed and a safe home, I'm happy enough."

"And for once, I don't have to worry about a bloody magic user. I was getting soddin' tired of that."

"Yes, Master," the old mage tilted his head in Spike's direction without actually looking all that subservient.

It took Angel a second to answer. "I had planned to use the anglerfish spell."

Spike's eyebrows went up, and Lindsey desperately wished he could see the details on those two spells. Teacher's pet had gotten to study them and even choose the fucking spell, but Lindsey hadn't gotten more than a glance at the pictures.

"Your slave." Spike shrugged, the gesture making it clear he would have chosen differently. Then again, Lindsey was surprised Master Spike hadn't used the damn worm spell on the mage. Maybe that would have damaged the man's magic.

"Slaves," Angel corrected him. "I would like to claim both Wesley and Lindsey."

There was an odd shifting of places among the demon women who were now standing along the edges of the room since their seats had been destroyed in the fight.

Spike, however, looked rather pleased. That was a smirk on his face. "About bloody time, mate."

"Spike," Angel said wearily, the word a warning, but Spike was already waving his hand to dismiss them all.

With a sigh, Angel turned his back and headed for the door. Wesley and Fred hurried after him, but the demon girl Soshie headed for her own people, and they gathered around her in a knot of whispers and odd looks that Lindsey couldn't understand. Angel stopped in front of Lindsey and waited as Dalton untied his leash.

"Did he mind?"

"His body is untrained, but he did not willfully disobey any order," she said, handing the leash to him.

Lindsey wasn't sure if he was relieved or unhappy when Angel took the leash and gave a small tug to force Lindsey to his feet. Spike's mage had gotten up and was following them from a small distance, and Lindsey realized his time was pretty short. He had to come up with a plan, and he needed it now. He opened his mouth to make a bargain with the devil, but before he could say a word, Angel had slipped the gag in place. Lindsey grunted unhappily but there was very little else he could do as Angel buckled the gag in place and then headed out the door. Well fuck. Lindsey would just have to... well, he'd have to figure something out.

Read Readers' Comments

Return to Text Index

Return to Graphics Index

Send Feedback