The Labyrinth

Personal growth occurs for a variety of reasons, most of which are fairly traumatic. Consider this a form of psychotherapy... Hi everyone, my name's Rowaine and I'm a fanficaholic.

Title: The Labyrinth
Author: Rowaine
Rating: First part is R, overall is NC-17... or whatever that is with the new ratings. This should eventually rank an 6+ on Willa's Smut Scale, if I do it correctly.
Warnings: D/s; bloodplay; a hint of S&M; possibly some assorted kinks; toying with a few other pervs; might be a bit on the 'dark humor' side at times. Let's just say that this is NOT 'vanilla gay vamp sex', ok?
Pairing: Spander, of course. Plus mention of others along the way.
Setting/Timeline: Several years post S7, therefore AU. A few details from the series have been altered to suit my personal preferences. IE: Angel = Spike's sire, and other tidbits to be announced when I'm good and ready.
Summary: With the destruction of his hometown and subsequent dispersal of the Scoobies, Xander finally has the chance to grow up... and grow into needs he never realized he had.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except for the questionable plot.
Notes: Well now... got a new job last week - which is great, yeah? Only problem is that it's more manual labor than brainwork, leaving me with loads of time to think and nowhere near paper or keyboard to take notes. Whole new genre for me too, so be kind.
Feedback welcome! Email to rowained@yahoo.com or click the little reply button.


- Part One -

He woke just before sunset, stretching leisurely before untangling muscular legs from the twisted blankets of his king-sized bed. One hand reached for the nightstand to light a four-wick pillar candle, casting a sultry glow into the quiet room. The barest movement sent flickers of shadows jumping across the walls - a soothing focus for his sleep-muddled vision. With a final cracking stretch, he stood and moved around the room, setting a dozen more candles to burn.

By force of habit, he made his way through the dimly lit space to the area designated for his work-outs. After an hour of concentrating on the steady burn of muscles, he felt that sense of peace that comes from sheer physical labor. Pulling off the thin t-shirt and drawstring pants he prefered to sleep in, he tossed both in the convenient laundry basket at the end of his weight bench.

His next step was a hot shower, surrounded by the faint herbal aromas he picked out that soothed without being too strong. He took his time soaping down, working lather across every inch of his body, relearning by touch alone each point of pleasure. Pressure built in his groin, but he avoided the rampant piece of need. He redirected the spray of water away from his body, located the brand new razor, and began to denude himself of what sparse body hair he had.

When fitting out his new home, he chose the fluffiest towels available - a minor indulgence that had given him more joy than all the decadent treats of the past few years. Taking one deep green towel from its rack, he blotted his thick hair lightly, just enough to prevent rivlets of moisture from dripping down his back. Clean, smooth, and completely relaxed, he applied a thin coat of oil to his shower-reddened skin. Finally, he used the towel to both rub and dry his body.

Another ritual complete, he headed to the kitchen for a high protein shake. Its taste was somewhat bland, even though the manufacturer claimed it was chocolate - but he'd done his homework. And isn't that ironic, after all these years?

His state of calm threatened to evaporate as nervous anticipation edged into play. Shaking his still damp head, he chuckled quietly at himself. He tidied up the kitchen, scrubbed his hair briskly on the way back to the bedroom, and tossed the towel on top of his sleep clothes.

Approaching the closet, he felt another tremor of something between terror and exhilaration. Behind the racks of standard attire, he drew out a matte black garment bag. His hands caressed the cheap plastic before finding the tab of its zipper and pulling one tooth at a time. With each click, the scent of leather grew stronger, and his erection responded with a twitch. He glanced down at it almost regretfully before removing a slender strap from the bottom of the bag. Moments later, his genitals were firmly harnessed by the deceptively supple leather of the cockring. He shivered at the knowledge that he would remain painfully hard until... much later.

His recent purchases weren't difficult to find, but had caused him more than a moment's panic. Most of the more impressive outfits took assistance in donning and disrobing - a minor problem, but one of importance in his currently single state. He had spent the past week 'practicing' getting dressed in his chosen ensemble, just to insure that it could be done without a second set of hands.

He had no difficulty putting on the pair of black leather pants, lacing up both sides til they clung smoothly to every muscle in his thighs and across his rounded buttocks. Likewise the low boots, which caused him to sigh in pleasure as his feet slid into the baby soft material. The trick to his outfit lay in the 'top' - a series of straps and buckles that brought into sharp relief the well-defined muscle groups of his chest and back. Thanking the deities in charge of the weather for such mild early spring temperatures, he pulled a maroon silk shirt over his torso before returning to the bathroom for the final touches.

A smudge of kohl eyeliner applied sparingly to highlight his eyes drew attention to thick dark lashes that most women would kill for. His hair was easy enough - finger comb, ruffle across the forehead, with the tiniest bit of gel to preserve the 'just gotten out of bed after a long night of fucking' look.

With a pleased (if nerve-wracked) nod at the overall effect, he grabbed his keys and wallet, blew out the multitude of candles, and locked the door behind him.

~ * ~

For years, he had suppressed several facets of his personality - a fact he could now admit, with so many thousands of miles between him and his long-time circle of friends. The journey of discovery started after the destruction of his childhood hometown. Or, if he were to be completely honest, it began a few months prior to that. The new, improved Xander Harris made a point of being honest with himself at all costs.

And indeed, the costs were high. Loss of his home, the very foundations of his oldest friendships shaken to the core... loss of life in certain cases.

He had mourned his ex-fiance's death, and blamed Andrew for her self-sacrificing actions. How dare the little nobody live on, when Anya could not? At last, he had accepted it as being her choice, her final step in 'humanization', and had offered his apologies to the young man.

Harder to take was the loss of close friendship with Willow. She had never truly recovered from Tara's death, but her role in the battle with the First Evil took a far greater toll on her reserves of strength than she could stand. They each made the attempt to keep in touch, even knowing that they were moving in opposite directions.

The Summers women were a different story - as always. Dawn enrolled in university at some foreign school, making friends and a name for herself away from the stigma of being the Slayer's sister. And Buffy, the first Slayer to graduate from college, no longer the only Chosen One, globe-trotting and romancing yet another supernatural being. He wished them luck, exchanged Christmas cards and birthday greetings, and let them enjoy their lives.

Surprisingly, Giles was the one he missed most, after all. Xander gave full credit to the former Watcher's role as surrogate father, where Xander's own was so pathetically doused in the miasma of alcohol, as being one of the only blocks of stability in his formative years. He was also instrumental in the final phase of Xander's maturation - through much polishing of spectacles, he frequently sent 'care packages' of books and pamphlets, even going so far as to recommend 'teachers' when asked. The blush on Xander's face flared each time he thought about his mentor having experienced any of his recurring fantasies.

He had called one of the names on Giles' suggestion, and received a list of potential trainers. One of which would be expecting him any minute. Had his penis not already been full and leaking, he would no doubt be erect at the terrified shiver of arousal/anticipation that exploded throughout his body.

~ * ~

Without realizing how far he'd driven, Xander found himself parked out front of an old stone-faced house. Set well back from the quiet residential street, behind a tall privacy fence, the house was surrounded by lush trees and shrubs in the early stages of spring bloom. It was the sort of home one expected to find in stately historic New Orleans, not a suburb of Dallas, Texas. But looks, as he had learned too often in his life, were most often deceptive. He turned off the ignition, pocketed the keys, and took a deep breath of courage.

A glance in the rear view mirror showed him to be as presentable as could be expected for his first time at this sort of thing. He spared a quick thanks to the Powers, for such a timely distraction before he began brooding over... other losses.

Deep green ivy clung tenaciously to the exterior of the house, framing the white front door he now faced with trepedation. He stood upon a wide porch, his mind taking note of those myriad details he had heard about (but never witnessed first hand) on various Saturday afternoon 'tour of estates' shows from the public broadcasting station. Window boxes of dahlias and chrysanthemums brought color to the ivy-covered face of the house. A little touch of his inner construction worker admired the clean, classic lines of the overall structure.

He had no more time to appreciate the landscape, however, as the front door opened, revealing a short brunet woman in dark clothes.

"Alexander Harris, is it?" Her voice a husky alto, she stepped back at his nod of agreement, ushering him into the foyer. "Welcome to Wilalston Manor, Mr Harris. I am the caretaker for the Master. You may call me Jancis, if you have any questions." Leaving the offer open, she led him inside.

Bright cherrywood panelling framed with crisp white trimwork covered the walls of both foyer and hall, interrupted only by the occassional painting or wall sconce. Whatever Xander had been expecting, this much... tasteful decorum was far from his imaginings.

At the end of the short hall, Jancis opened a door to admit him into the drawing room. It too was panelled and well lit, with low leather seating arranged between bookcases and convenient tables. A rough stone fireplace roared cheerily behind its mesh screen, offering warmth and the comforting sense of welcome. He barely had time to take in his surroundings before he was addressed once more.

"The Master will be with you momentarily, Mr Harris. If you would, please place your shirt and shoes here," she gestured to an indention on one wall, where a clothes rack and two low shelves lie partially hidden behind a full bookcase. "You will find several items waiting for use in a small bag on the lower shelf. Make sure to utilize them before Master arrives."

With that, the middle aged woman left him to his own devices. A dangerous place to be, he absently noted as his anxiety rose to new heights. Did he really want to be here, doing this? Leaving himself at the total mercy of a stranger? Maybe not, but it was something he knew needed be done. All his life, he had taken care of his loved ones (and perfect strangers, and ex-demons and current demons) - now was his chance to turn all that responsibility over to another. He would not back out.

Xander found himself doubly grateful for the warmth of the fire as he slipped off his shirt and shoes. The caretaker hadn't said how long he had to wait, so he wasted no time in putting his things away. The small cloth bag lying in wait for him opened to reveal a blindfold, a small pillow, and a note. The note's elegant writing caught his attention straight away.

'Place the pillow three feet in front of the center of the hearth.
Here you will kneel, blindfolded, awaiting my pleasure. Know
that you are in good hands - I have spoken with your friend,
and can give you what you desire.'

No signature gave him a clue what his mystery man's name was, nor had he heard any from his brief correspondence with Giles' acquaintence. And maybe that would make it easier on him. Total abandon, leaving everything to someone else's capable hands.

Xander drew a deep, cleansing breath. He folded the paper and placed it in his shirt pocket, before taking the satin cushion toward the fireplace. With less grace than he'd have liked to demonstrate, he knelt on the pillow and carefully placed the blindfold across his eyes. It covered his face from his upper cheeks to hairline, allowing no hint of light to seep into his vision.

And yes, he admitted to a small frission of nervous fear. But more than that, he felt the high expectation of freedom. This was his choice.

~ * ~

As he listened with half an ear for signs of his host's approach, Xander thought back on the past few months of self-discovery.

He had finally moved out of the new Watchers Council headquarters, after seeing to the finishing touches of the buildings. Libraries and dorms, meeting rooms and offices, he had overseen it all. It was a bittersweet triumph, watching the last nail being pounded home, the last coat of varnish covering the ornate bannisters. Some of his best work, and a sense of accomplishment he'd seldom ever felt came over him every time he remembered the glowing praise of his friends and Giles.

Less than a week afterwards, he had approached the chief Watcher. Bored and restless, he'd felt it was time to move on, but had no idea what he truly wanted.

"Er, hi G-man... gotta minute?" Stammering at the door of his mentor's office, Xander waited til he had permission to enter before flopping into a comfortable slump in the overstuffed armchair across from Giles' desk.

With a wry grin, the older man greeted his surrogate son. "Of course, Xander. What brings you here today? I'd have thought you would be spending some quality time with the backs of your eyelids after the past hectic months."

Xander felt the blush before it started. "Yeah, about that... I've pretty much done all I can here, right? Other than whittling new stakes, or tracking down more Potentials. And there are other people who can do that now. I sorta want to..."

"Move on?" Giles nodded his head, having anticipated this reaction from the young man. "There's nothing wrong with that, Xander. What have you in mind? Perhaps I can help in some way?"

And the flush rose another notch. "Uh... about that... I don't know, but maybe. It's sorta... personal, y'know?"

Instead of the glass-polishing he'd been expecting, Xander watched a wicked grin cross his friend's face. "Ah, it's come to this. Very well." Clearing his throat, Giles looked closely at Xander's face. He nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw. "I believe I know what you need, young Mr Harris," he began in full teacher mode, "Some time away from all who know you, so that you can finally seek out your adult personality. How close am I so far?"

Mutely, Xander could only nod.

"I suspected as much. You've watched your life-long friends mature and wander off into their own pursuits. Frankly, I'm impressed you held off as long as you have, Xander. Back before-"

Cutting him off, Xander quickly interrupted, "Yeah, before. It's something I've been thinking about for quite awhile. But I had to make sure this was finished first, and now it is. There's no need for me to hang around, right?"

Giles accepted the 'move along' motion, drumming his fingers on the polished oak desktop before him. "Quite. So what you're looking for, from me, is not permission to depart. Rather, you're notifying me of your intent?" He waited while the brunet worked that query over in his mind, nodding when he'd translated it from Brit-speak. "And now you feel free to cut ties, to further your own growth apart from the gaggle of females who constantly surround you." Another nod, this one quicker. "And, unless I've missed the signals entirely, you will also be... broadening your horizons, so to speak."

Shellshocked, Xander could only offer a last nod. He knew how observant the Watcher was, but hadn't imagined having that intense focus directed at himself. Apparently, someone was paying attention after all. It shouldn't have come as such a surprise, he reasoned, since Giles often understood him better than Xander knew himself.

"When I was a much younger man, Xander, I went through much the same thing. My parents were nothing like yours, although they were far from ideal in most respects. After such rigidity in my upbringing, I... rebelled. And yes, before you mention it, this was prior to my forray into Chaos magic. Before Ethan Rayne. Actually, it's how I met the ornery bugger, but that's neither here nor there." Taking a sip from his cooling tea, Giles watched carefully over the lip of the cup to see what impact his words had. "Each person has facets to their mental and emotional being, and many of us have... needs... that differ from our contemporaries. You spent more than two years exploring the aspects of a monogamous, heterosexual relationship with Anya. Now you feel it is time to... branch out, yes?"

Caught between embarassment of the subject, and relief that he didn't have to explain himself, Xander ducked his head before answering, "Yeah, something like that. But it's more... I'm tired of being the mature one - and how scary is it, that I was more mature than an eleven-hundred year old vengeance demon? - tired of being the one to take care of everybody else."

"Ah yes, I am fully familiar with such feelings. Unless you are uncomfortable accepting my assistance, perhaps I can refer you to a selection of literature that might help your personal sojourn?" A twinkle of devilment in his eye, Giles left the offer hanging to see if the young man would ask what he meant. No luck there, for it seemed his friend was willing to sit back and waffle. "What I mean is that I have a list of books and suchlike, that could be of use to your... exploration. You're leaving England for this, I presume."

"Uh yeah, probably best if I took myself back to the states. I just can't get used to being surrounded by tea and crumpets, sorry."

That brought a chuckle from behind the desk. "Of course, how dare we presume to influence your deporable preference of Twinkies and HoHos. Whatever the case, if you would contact me with your new address, I can have a comprehensive selection sent to you." Seeing the horror on Xander's face, Giles had to laugh aloud. "There won't be a test, Xander. This is only for you. I cannot see you sharing... certain aspects of your life with the girls, however close you are to them. Nor do I expect you to divulge your findings with me. However, please know that I am always here for you. If ever you have questions, worries, or simply need a friendly ear, remember that I am but a phonecall away."

In the blink of an eye, Xander was behind the desk with his arms wrapped firmly around his friend. Stuffy Britishism aside, Giles relished the contact, extending his own strong hug and patting the young man's back til he regained control.

"You have no idea how much this means to me, G-man. God Giles, I'm terrified what I'll find out about myself, but even more scared to *not* try, y'know?" Affirmative murmurring encouraged him to continue. "I'll let you know where I end up. Someplace far from hellmouths and slayers and magic, if I can help it. Someplace I can concentrate on figuring it all out."

With one last thump to his back, Giles released his 'son' and held him at arms' reach. "You are an intellegent, caring man, Alexander Harris. I am incredibly proud to have watched you grow from fumbling teenager to the man before me. And I shall always be here for you."

Two days later, Xander boarded a plane back to America, his few possessions awaiting a destination before being shipped along.

He finally took the road trip he'd started almost ten years ago, ending up in north central Texas. Demon activity was low, people were fairly friendly, and the temperature almost reminded him of home. Finding a place to stay wasn't difficult, and Xander revelled in walking through the door of his own house, knowing that he had the right to do whatever he wished within its walls. Such simple security was foreign to him, but a feeling he quickly grew to enjoy.

Before long, he called Giles to ask for the promised care package, blushing the entire way through their conversation. He waited on pins and needles for eight days, til the FedEx truck pulled up in front of his home. Wheeling a dolly laden with boxes to his front door, Xander signed for his parcel, part of him thoroughly entertained by the curious looks the driver gave his blushing face. Finally, he closed the door and pounced on his presents, as if Christmas had come a second time.

In a show of scholarship he would never portray in front of the Scoobies, Xander devoured every scrap of information he was given. He even bought a high end computer, got DSL, and went online to search for more topics relating to his 'interests'. The sheer mass of data he had to process kept him occupied (and half hard) for the next four months. In the end, he admitted to himself that he could go no further without a hands-on teacher.

~ * ~

So here he was now, waiting for the teacher to make an appearance. His trainer. His Master. Xander didn't need his eyes to tell how his hard cock throbbed within his pants at the thought. Nipples erect, dick erect, a fine layer of sweat from being so close to the fire - and anticipatory nerves - all telling how very ready he was to meet the man.

A soft click grabbed his attention, letting him know he was no longer alone. Xander straightened his posture, clasping his hands at the small of his back and lowering his head. As it should be, in the presence of Master.


~ TBC ~

So, how's it sound? Should I continue or not? Between the difference in writing style and subject matter, I'd love to hear your thoughts.