Broken (AKA Beautiful Broken)

***PLEASE GO TO http://www.litgal.vague-disclaimer.org/ FOR THE EDITED AND CORRECTED COPY***

--Rating---------------------
Really, really explicit sex in this including some non-con (the rapists are non-canon characters)
--Pairing(s)-----------------
Spike/Xander
--Feedback----------------------
Craved, needed like air, big old feedback whore here.
--Betas----------------------
Stonering and Velvet Virago helped on certain chapters
--Author's Notes-------------------
Xander is still Xander here... he's not a mute, blank Xander-shaped object. The most up do date version of this story is available at http://www.litgal.vague-disclaimer.org/
--Disclaimer-----------------------
Totally don't own these characters. I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox and not making ANY money at all. So, this and all later chapters are written just for fun.



Xander twitched his shoulder muscle again, trying to relieve the cramp that threatened at the edge of his awareness, but he knew better than to do anymore than this small movement. Nope, lots of people had called him stupid, but he wasn't that stupid. He twitched again, pulling his bound hands slightly away from his back to try and stretch a little, but when the boots in front of him turned toward him, Xander immediately stilled.

Nope, not doing anything here. See me doing nothing, Xander prayed as he knelt on the low bench with the other merchandise: eyes down, back straight, wrists bound, and chest out. Yep, rule-followin' Xan the man just following the rules. The man next to him bumped into him, and Xander didn't even turn his gaze from the floor in front of him when the man suddenly erupted into screaming. He didn't need to see the end of the guard's stick pressing into the flesh, electricity holding the body captive and rigid as the victim screamed. Nope, he didn't need to see that because he had felt it often enough.

And right about....Xander waited. Now. The smell of urine assaulted his nose, but that was why they had been placed on the bench, so that their decorated and perfumed bodies wouldn't be soiled with the urine of terrified slaves. Xander thought it was funny that the others were so scared because before his habit of talking had been beaten out of him, he'd learned that most hadn't even known about demons before being captured into this loverly little business. They could still have the illusion that if they obeyed and spread their legs and played good little house pet they might survive. Xander knew better. Xander had seen human bodies turned inside out and eaten and ripped apart and their eyes pulled out and their hearts pulled out and their legs pulled off. He hadn't shared any of this, but he knew what life as a demon's slave would be like, and he knew that whether he fought or not, it would end the same. The only difference was how much pain he could spare himself by obeying.

A hand closed on his shoulder, and following that non-verbal signal, Xander stepped off the bench and began to follow his trainer to the ring. The last sale was being dragged off stage by his collar and leash. His own trainer showed off by leaving Xander's leash dangling down in front where the chain banged into his cock with every step. Of course, Xander could prevent that by walking without the slight twist to his hips, but he'd learned well that when he walked he had to make the small decorative chains at his hips twist about his legs invitingly. So Xander twisted and ignored the heavy chain bouncing around his genitals. He kept his eyes firmly down in part because of the training which now made it uncomfortable for him to look up and in part because the huge number of demons in the seats around him made him feel like the last hot dog at a baseball game.

When his trainer stopped, Xander knelt with his knees apart, his shoulders back and his eyes down. The Korloth trainer snapped his fingers and gave Xander a tap with his foot, and Xander obediently turned ninety degrees right so that he now faced the main audience. A tap with the long training cane at the neck, and Xander immediately folded, his forehead to the dusty ground and his butt resting on his legs. He felt a knife at his wrists before his bonds were cleanly sliced, but he continued to hold his hands in position, his right hand firmly grasping his left wrist.

A tap on his butt and Xander resumed the first position. A snap and two taps with a foot and Xander turned his back to the audience, still holding position. Xander could hear the whispers of the audience members grow louder, but he didn't care if he did look stupid out here performing like a trained dog. Okay, he cared; he just didn't care as much as he cared about that cane not coming down on his back laying his skin open. If Korloth demons weren't good at healing magic, Xander would have been covered in scars because he had learned the hard way just how little his defiance mattered. You argued and you just got tied into position and beaten.

The tip of the cane pressed into the crack of Xander's ass, and he quietly assumed the most humiliating of the positions, legs apart, arms on the ground, head resting on arms and ass waving in the air for everyone to see. He felt the cane slide into him, and he breathed out and relaxed to try and ease the passage of the intruder. His trainer pushed it in far enough for it to stick up in the air like a flagpole before he walked away. Xander could hear his footsteps fade, but he knew the consequences of looking up or moving in any way that would make that dreaded cane sway. Keep the cane steady: that was his only goal. The audience's whispered increased and now the auctioneer began his business.

"We do our business not in the mundane humans you could pick up on the street, but in the exotic, the half-breeds, the magically talented, the unusual, and today's sweet boy here is quite a pick. Leshar has always been known for his excellent training, and this time he set himself a challenge. He has taken a demon hunter and turned him into your own pleasure slave." Xander listened with half an ear, most of his brain focused on not moving the cane. Leshar--Xander had never before known his trainer's name and somehow Leshar just didn't sound evil enough for a demon that had done the things to Xander that Leshar had done.

"But, ladies and gentlemen, he was not only a demon hunter, but a minion of the slayer herself. He fought next to her against the Master of Aurelius and Angelus and a dozen other demons who used to grace our ranks. But for the right price this little demon killer will kneel at your feet and beg to bring you pleasure." Xander tried not to let the words bother him, hell he tried to not even listen, but now so many questions had been answered. Six months he had wondered why him. Six months he had cursed his luck. Six months he had assumed this was all some mistake from which Buffy would save him, but now he knew. He'd been taken and obviously magically shielded so that some demon could get pleasure out of beating him to death for helping Buffy. Perfect.

"And Leshar has saved you a real treat, ladies and gentlemen. Leshar has not trained this slave to the most vital of slave duties." Xander felt a scaly hand at his hip, but he didn't flinch at all. Leshar had taken a good five months to beat out that flinch response, but now Xander's body didn't even consider flinching no matter what touched him--a hand, a hot poker, a feather, a knife. He could stand still while someone traced patterns in his back with a hot knife, and boy wasn't that just something to brag about.

"Leshar has never entered this beautiful slave with anything larger than the cane, so you will have the pleasure of opening this beauty yourself." The crowd's murmurs significantly grew. Xander felt the cane being withdrawn, but he held position, even as the cane whistled and came down on his back opening a line of fire.

"Leshar does produce quality material," the auctioneer said with glee. A tap on the butt and Xander returned to position one. A snap and two taps with a foot and he turned back to face the audience still in position.

"As you can see the boy is trained with your standard commands including the five kneeling positions, heeling, four punishment positions, and can use his mouth to provide any number of pleasures. Xander felt a finger at his mouth, and he did what ever he did when anything touched his mouth, he opened and took it in as he used his tongue to caress and began to suck.

"Oh yes, I give you my word he can provide enthusiastic entertainment." The audience laughed, but Xander continued on his assigned task until the finger withdrew. The cane touched his stomach, and Xander went to hands and knees, allowing his head to hang down. He felt the weight of the slender auctioneer settle in as he took a seat.

"So, what is my first bid for this morsel?" A hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head up so quickly that Xander barely had time to close his eyes to avoid looking at the audience.

"1,500," came a rough voice.

"An insult!" replied the auctioneer in a shocked voice. "Six months of training--longer than any other slave provided by Leshar, a history of fighting with the slayer, an untouched hole to drive into, an obedient pet to sit by your side. $1,500 is an insult." The hand released his hair, so Xander dropped his head back down, trying to block out the whole ordeal and focus on his hopes for the future: quick death, avoidance of pain, maybe a nice blanket to curl up under at night. Yep, never say he hadn't held on to his dreams.

"$2,500."

"$2,550."

"$2,600."

"$2,700."

"$2,750." A series of bids came from across the audience with no prompting from the auctioneer.

"Well, obviously this crowd doesn't understand your value," the auctioneer crooned in a soothing voice as he ran a hand through Xander's hair. Xander amused himself by mentally reviewing all the things he could say, well, things he could say if he weren't a slave. He'd start with, 'my value tends to be tied to the cost of donuts.' Oh, he had it, he'd announce, 'Replacing the broken walkie-talkie, $10 at Wal-mart. Mucking up a love spell, $500 in property damage. The Xander who caused it all, priceless.'

The weight disappeared from his back and a touch on his shoulder brought him to his feet ready to follow, but then the auctioneer simply stood, so Xander began to sink back down confused.

"No, no, my boy. You stand right there." Xander straightened his knees and kept his eyes on the ground. "These people need to appreciate what a prize you are, so you are going to give them a demonstration. A door opened to the side, and Xander could hear chains rattling, hardly surprising at a slave action. The sound approached, now paired with a fierce growling and the shuffling of many feet. Xander wondered what was going on since he hadn't seen anything other than well-trained humans or mostly humans in the slave pens, but something wasn't going down without a fight. A stake unexpectedly appeared within his vision, thrust toward him by the auctioneer's hand.

"Here's the evening’s entertainment. This fledge was turned so his sire could torture the human he used to be. This slave once hunted vampires. So, we're going to have a little contest." Xander watched as the auctioneer took Xander's hand and placed the stake in it, curling the fingers around the smooth wood. "If the human kills the vampire, you are going to pay the proper amount for having such a wonderful treat kneeling at your feet. If the vampire kills the human, Leshar is out a lot of time and money and the fledge goes free."

A snap and two taps turned Xander and he put his back to the audience without comment. It's not like anyone wanted his comment anyway, but Xander suddenly realized that he'd been granted an easy out. All he had to do was let the vampire kill him, and this would all be over. Of course, that meant one more vampire running around the world, but he'd long ago realized that vampires were going to be there until the end of time, so what difference did that make? Determined to follow through on his suicide, Xander almost missed the order to fight, but the part of his brain that had developed to always listen to his Masters’ orders brought up his eyes before he had even fully processed the command.

The minute he saw the game-faced Riley snarling at him in a crouch, Xander knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't allow Riley with his knowledge of the military to help the demon community. He couldn't let the man Buffy loved live like this. Oh shit, who was he kidding? He just couldn't lie down and die for Captain Cardboard. The man might have stolen the heart of the woman Xander still secretly adored and betrayed that same woman and proved himself clueless on so many occasions that Xander's soldier memories begged to write him up, but he'd be damned if Riley Finn was going to kill him.

Xander stood with his feet heavily planted even as Riley crouched and judged his weaknesses. When Riley lunged, Xander gasped and fell back a step, luring the fledge into the one weakness every fledge had: arrogance. Of course having Riley’s memories probably didn’t hurt either.

The fledge smiled and lunged forward again, and again, Xander plastered a scared look on his face as he fell back another step and then the fledge charged, eager to kill the prey and claim his freedom. Xander simply stood, and before Riley could notice the change in tactics, he had speared himself by charging right into Xander’s stake and Xander had a close up for Riley’s last expression: profound confusion. Then the vampire turned to dust, and Xander knelt, laying the stake far enough away that he couldn’t easily reach it as he went into position.

“Ladies and gentlemen, wasn’t that an interesting display. Here we thought we were providing a challenge since that fledge took out three of the minions sent to capture him, but our little demon hunter made short work of him.” Xander held position, not even doubting what the next part of the show would entail, but taking out Riley Finn almost made it worth it. Yep, life was like one giant math class with him the loser who couldn’t figure out how to add. Maybe even a math class with clowns. Oh yeah, and this auctioneer was definitely in the running for biggest clown, he thought as he waited for the tap.

The auctioneer walked toward the audience, and made two definite taps on the floor. Xander rose and quickly walked to where the auctioneer had tapped and lay down on his stomach, his arms straight out from his shoulders and his legs spread. Yep, math class with clowns and giant bug ladies…that was about as much fun as his life, he thought as he heard the auctioneer walk around his body as he kept his forehead to the ground as his trainer had taught him.

“Such obedience should be rewarded, but we certainly can’t allow this slave to think that he can kill his betters without consequence, so what shall be his reward and what shall be his punishment?” the auctioneer called out. Xander listened to the various suggestions with both dread that creatures with such blood thirst might buy him and relief that no one would injure him that badly at the point of sale. Nope, that kind of life-threatening injury would come later, he thought to himself as the auctioneer announced the reward and the punishment. Oh goodie. Xander just loved it when they played stupid fuck-with-the-human mind games.

Xander rose to his hands and knees and crawled over to the implements spread on the floor. He knew full well that if he chose the lighter instruments that he would simply be hit more, so he closed his lips around the bullwhip, careful not to leave teeth marks since he wasn’t sure whether that spell could restore his teeth again. Xander crawled back to the auctioneer and laid the whip at his feet before going back into position with his head between the auctioneer’s feet.

“Please, Master,” Xander begged in a soft demon-approved voice. “Please punish me for thinking myself worthy of such a fight. Please remind me that I’m just a slave and must live for my Master’s pleasure. Please, hurt me and make me bleed so I remember my place. Please make sure that I always know that I must accept that my superiors have control over every part of me.” Xander pulled out the sentences from memory; he had a whole mental library of such phrases that he could spew out without even hearing himself talk. Yeah, punish, right. They liked torturing him, so torture him they would, he thought as his voice continued completely separate from his thoughts. When the whip came down on his back, he carefully made sure to keep his voice even as he begged for more. Eventually the whip stopped, and Xander resumed his preferred silence.

Three taps on the floor and Xander turned presenting his front while taking the same spread eagle position. This time he closed his eyes since he couldn’t actually lower his gaze like this.

“Oh, such immediate and happy obedience,” the auctioneer pointed out, and Xander’s mental snort reverberated through his mind although he remained perfectly still. A touch on his stomach sent him to his hands and knees.

“Can’t you just see this beauty begging for your whip, your cock, your horn, your claw?” the auctioneer asked, and then Xander heard a single tap. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to spot the position of the tap against the side wall of the stage before standing and walking to the spot. He placed his hands on the wall, spread his legs, arched his back, stuck his butt out and dropped his head. He could feel the auctioneer’s hand running on the inside of his thigh, but there really wasn’t much he could do about it.

“Oh, I am half tempted to purchase such a treat myself. Look at the arch of that back, the perfect stillness of his body, and ladies and gentlemen, I am telling you that his muscles are perfectly formed under this lovely skin. Those of you who took time to check out the merchandise before the opening bell can attest to that. So, let’s start bidding again.”

“10,000” a voice called, and the crowd gasped. In his head, Xander looked at the buyer askance and demanded, ‘What the hell are you thinking?’ On stage, Xander waited patiently.

“11,000.”

“11,050.”

“11,100.”

“11,500.”

“11,750.” Came a flurry of voices even as the auctioneer’s hand wandered around the inside of his thigh. The crowd grew quiet. Xander felt the touch at his shoulder, and he turned to follow the auctioneer to the front of center stage, sinking down into position when the auctioneer stopped.

“Look at this darling boy. Surely someone will pay more for the privilege of owning such a trophy: a minion of one slayer, a demon hunter, the mate of a second slayer.” The last words caused a new flurry of whispers that almost covered the sound of a snap and two touches, but Xander obediently turned. And yep, the pervert was touching him right in the crack, so Xander folded into the correct position, a position that gave every demon in the place a close up view of his ass.

“Oh yes, surely that’s worth more,” the auctioneer cooed in a voice that Xander really just wanted to point out sounded like a stoned Mary Poppins.

“12,000,” a voice called into the silence. The auctioneer’s cane now began to run up and down Xander’s crack suggestively, and Xander considered the irony of becoming a sex object under these circumstances after dreaming of being one for most of his teen years.

$12,100,” a second voice finally called.

“Are we sure we want to pass up such perfection ladies and gentlemen?” the auctioneer asked, but the room remained silent. “Going once…Going—”

“$15,000,” called a familiar British voice, and for the first time in months, Xander had to catch himself before actively disobeying an order. He came so close to turning to look that he could feel his own heart race in fear even thinking of the punishment he would earn for such disobedience.

“Finally, a demon who knows quality. William the Bloody of the Order of Aurelias no doubt come to purchase some vengeance for the death of the patriarch of their order. Oh, if no one else will bid, I fear this beautiful body will be torn and broken quite beyond repair. Anyone?” the auctioneer appealed to the audience. “Going once….Going twice…and,” the auctioneer paused dramatically. “Gone.” The crowd instantly resumed their interrupted conversations, not caring about the life that had been sold, but uninterested now that the entertainment had ended.

“Oh my boy, I have so enjoyed playing with you, and I do wish I could have found you a better Master,” the auctioneer commented with an affectionate caress of a buttock, but Xander ignored the words since they didn’t require a response from him. So, fangless had bought him which could mean that Buffy sent him and he was about to go home which left him rather unemotional since he didn’t even know how to be that person anymore. Hell, truthfully he didn’t know if that person even existed. He’d seen plenty of slaves come and go in his trainer’s stable. He’d seen lots of humans break under the whip, and he highly suspected that he was broken. Of course he’d been broken before his trainer had taken him, but now the break was just a little more obvious as proved by the fact that he still knelt in position, waiting for Spike to tell him he could move. He never realized how silently the vampire moved until he could smell the leather and cigarette smell of Spike without ever having heard his footsteps. A hand touched his shoulder, and he gracefully rose and followed behind Spike, careful to make sure that his hip chains twirled elegantly, but at least the whole banging the cock wasn’t a problem since his main chain was wrapped tightly around Spike’s fist.

Spike led him away from the purchasing ring to an area with tables where he took a seat, and Xander sank to his knees beside his new Master. Oh, he only had about three thousand questions, starting with whether the vampire still had a chip and whether he’d just been purchased or rescued, but in the end, the vampire’s answer didn’t matter since he would follow Spike even if Spike threatened to torture and kill him. The alternative would be to get returned to his trainer, and he’d seen what happened to those who got returned.

“Listen up ya wanker,” Spike said with a whack to his head, and Xander immediately folded into the down position, butt on his heels, head down and hands on his thighs. He also wondered why exactly Spike thought he had to remind a slave to listen, but then the vampire never was the sharpest crayon in the box. Xander had spent all of high school not listening, but after 6 months of training, he couldn’t help but listen for that one voice that had the power of life and death, and he kept reminding himself that his one all-important voice was now Spike, who had become his Master. Spike remained silent for quite a while now, but the voice continued.

“Ya mind me or I’ll stripe your back for ya,” he said in a hissing voice, and again with the obvious. Slaves hardly needed to be told that they had to obey or face punishment, but the vampire’s threat to hurt him did tend to suggest that the whole chip thing wasn’t a problem any more and wasn’t that just lovely. The auctioneer might have suspected Spike of revenge for the Master, but Xander remembered any number of insults that Spike would want to avenge now that he had the chip out. Oh well, it wasn’t like Xander hadn’t expected to end up dead, and now he got to die at the hand of someone he knew, which made it oddly comforting. Life really did just keep throwing him the curves. Of course, he didn’t say any of this to Spike; he simply knelt silent and obedient at his Master’s feet, waiting to see whether his Master would beat and rape him in public or take their grudge to a more private setting.