The Scarlet Letter

"Rise and shine!"

Sprawled across the bed, his entire body heavy with exhaustion, Xander scratched his chest and grumbled. "G'way. M'tired." He pulled a pillow over his head, wanting to ignore the voice and slide back to slumber.

/...wanna sleep for a million years.../

"Xan-der!" The annoying high-pitched sing song persisted, tugging him back from sweet oblivion. Scratch, scratch. What was up with the itching? Was his mother using the cheap detergent again?

Someone grabbed the pillow and tossed it to the floor. "Good morning, lazy bones. Sleep well?" All sweetness and light.

Yawning and only fuzzily coherent, Xander uncurled himself and opened his eyes. Blink. That. Isn't. Mom. Dressed in his customary black, Angelus perched on the edge of the bed like a raven, watching him intently.

Danger, danger! All his internal warning alarms sounded. Xander tried to roll out of bed, but in the space of a heartbeat Angelus had a firm grip on his forearm and muscled him back into place.

"Let go of me." Xander tried to hold his voice steady, but couldn't keep the fear from bleeding out around the edges. His pounding heart threatened to punch a hole through his chest, and he found himself hoping it would. Sit naked on a bed next to Angelus, or suffer a sucking chest wound? The latter seemed preferable.

"Welcome home. Did you miss me?" Angelus teased, stroking his thumb along Xander's forearm.

Xander glared at him, and wrested his arm free. Confused, he rubbed the spot where Angelus had held him. His touch shouldn't have felt soothing. There was nothing remotely comforting about Angelus touching him! He put that thought out of his mind, snatched up the bedding to cover his nudity, and scooted away from Angelus until he bumped against the headboard.

Xander blanched when he realized he was in the same room as before, the place where Angelus and Drusilla had transformed /raped/ him. The bed was still covered in black silk sheets. Moisture clung to the bare stone walls, and the place stank of mold and mildew. A huge spider web stretched from one of the bedposts to the ceiling. Fancy dolls lay strewn like corpses atop a wooden chest in the corner. Bloody scratches marred the far wall, where thick chains hung from a large iron ring.

Panic set in. Xander struggled to keep from hyperventilating, and thought it strange that his beating heart and frantic breaths were the only sounds in the room. In his nightmares, this place would forever echo with screams.

Still as a statue, Angelus watched him, seemingly basking in his terror. He smiled at Xander, lips drawn in sharp, thin lines. Lips that were much too red for a man. Lips that had tasted Xander, and wanted more.

/I'm gonna throw up, I can't deal with this...stop it. Stop it! Stop. Freaking. Out. That's exactly what he wants. Calm down. Breathe. Remember what Giles said..."No matter what Angelus does to hurt you, show him that you can overcome."/

"Oh, brilliant." The new voice startled Xander, and he turned to see Spike resting in a wheelchair at the doorway. "It's the little blighter who made all that bloody racket the other night."

/Crap, this just keeps getting better and better...Giles never said anything about dealing with Spike!/

"Look, I have my very own pomme de sang! Cool, huh?" Angelus said proudly, like he was showing Spike a new stereo system or other prized possession. "I wish Darla was here. She always did enjoy sampling the finer things in life."

Rolling his chair into the room, Spike snorted and took a drag off his cigarette. "Why'd you have to pick the mouthy kid, anyway? All that screaming and yelling...I thought the walls were going to come tumbling down. If you needed one of the Slayer's groupies, you should have gotten that little one with the weird hair who knows how to keep his trap shut."

"Screw you, Speed Racer! You try keeping the noise down when you're getting worked over by Deadboy and your skanky...ow!" Angelus punched Xander in the mouth, a warning blow just hard enough to smart. Xander rubbed his jaw while Spike snickered.

"Don't worry, I know how to keep Harris quiet." Angelus' smile broadened. "And I have other plans for the werewolf."

"Oz? Hey, what do you..." Smack! Angel punched him again, and Xander's head thumped against the headboard. "Ow!"

"Shut up and sit still. I'm not talking to you right now."

Spike exhaled a stream of smoke. "Better do as he says, kid, or he might get nasty ideas in his head. The sun doesn't go down for another ten hours, so he's got lots of free time to kill. And maim. And torture," he smirked.

Wary of their threats, Xander assessed his current condition. Was he in any shape to fight them? His leg didn't feel broken anymore, and the vampire bites had disappeared, but the accelerated healing had taken its toll; his energy was completely sapped. Normally it took at least a 16-year-old girl to kick Xander's ass, but he was so fatigued he figured a girl half that age could take him. Not good.

Scratch, scratch.

Even more discouraging, the tattoo curse was back. He'd almost forgotten how maddening it was, like fire ants burrowing under his skin. After Angelus had fed from him last night he'd had a reprieve, but now he was back to the compulsive scratching.

"You shouldn't have brought him here," said Spike. "Bo Peep is bound to come looking for her lost little sheep."

"So what? Let her come."

"Easy for you to say, you you your own Slayer insurance policy!" snapped Spike. "She won't kill you, but Dru and I, we're still fair game! You should have consulted us before taking the boy again, so we could come up with a decent plan."

"Oh, didn't she tell you?" Angelus feigned ignorance. "Drusilla brought him to me. A gift, she said. Y'know, I think she's still sweet on me. What do you think, Spikey?"

Spike straightened in his chair, anger and resentment curling off him like wisps of smoke. "I think if you know what's good for you, you'll stick to your soul stealing Slayer or hapless boy toy here, and leave my Dru alone."

Slow and cat-like, Drusilla stalked into the room. "Miss Edith said you boys were fighting again. Makes me feel special!" She circled around the wheelchair, climbed into Spike's lap, and nuzzled his cheek. Seeing Xander, she cast him a wicked smile. Her eyes sparkled as she sucked the tip of her finger suggestively. "Hello, precious."

Fear galvanized into rage, and without thinking Xander lunged at Drusilla. "Bitch! You killed my father!" Before he'd moved more than a foot, he was stricken with the same incapacitating pain he'd felt back in the school parking lot. His chest glowing, he collapsed on the bed, writhing in agony and gasping for air.

"Did I say you could move?"

"He has sunlight trapped inside his heart. See how it burns?" giggled Drusilla.

When the pain subsided enough, Xander shifted awkwardly on the bed, struggling to find the strength to sit up. Perspiration beaded off his skin, dotting the black sheets. Bad, the situation was very bad. The fire ants weren't just burrowing now, they were building a whole freaking colony. He felt nauseated by the waves of fear, disgust and hatred welling up inside of him.

Drusilla crept out of Spike's lap and nestled on the bed next to Angelus. "Do you like my present?" She tickled his ear while Spike watched her, seething with jealousy. "Sorry I didn't tie him up with pretty ribbons for you," she purred.

"You did good, babe." Angelus kissed Drusilla, lingering on her lipfew few moments too long. Spike clenched the arms of his wheelchair, and muttered something Xander couldn't hear. "Why don't you take Roller Boy into the other room and rotate his tires or something. Harris and I have things to discuss."

Xander cried out when a hand grasped his thigh. He kicked Angelus, and was rewarded with another crippling surge of chest pain. He moaned and cursed while Angelus laughed, relishing Xander's misery.

"Daddy, let me play, too! His tears spill like pearls, and I want to wear them," pleaded Drusilla.

"Patience, Dru." Angelus patted her behind, nudging her on her way. "If you're very, very bad, you can borrow him later."

"Let them be, love." Spike extinguished his cigarette on armrest of his wheelchair, and flicked the butt in the corner. "While he plays shock the monkey, we need to be alert in case that little bitch decides to attempt a rescue mission."

"Not to worry, sweet William. I had a vision. Lies and treachery are creep, creep, crawling from their lair. They cut and slash and make sure the Slayer will not take him from our happy home." Drusilla followed Spike out the door, pausing to blow Xander a kiss good-bye. He swallowed hard and looked away, afraid to remember how she'd hurt him and ashamed to remember how she hadn't.

Angelus stood up and shut the door.

Xander huddled under the sheet, and halfway wished the other vampires were still around. He knew what was coming, but he was too trapped in the throes of Angelus withdrawal to even consider trying to escape. As he tried to focus on anything but the constant craving, he remembered something Angelus had said.

"What did you mean, you have plans for Oz? What are you going to do to him?"

"You should be much more concerned about what I'm going to do to you." Angelus jumped up on the bed, rolling on his side next to Xander. He leaned up on his elbow. "Doing okay?" he asked conversationally. "You look a little uncomfortable. Is there something you need?"

"Go fuck yourself, Deadboy. I'm not playing your games." Angelus grinned, and Xander's chest started to glow again. His torso became a bed of hot coals, scorching his lungs. He groaned and rode out the heat wave.

"Tsk, tsk. Language! Maybe later I'll cut out your tongue to teach you a lesson, but right now, I want to catch up on old times, and I'm pretty sure you don't speak sign language."

The tattoo continued to shine. Xander muddled through the red haze of pain and managed to give him the finger.

"Oh, you make it *so* easy to hurt you."

Xander screamed and doubled over as Angelus increased the severity of his punishment. Xander felt like he was being kicked from the inside, his own private Chernobyl meltdown, and the tattoo glowed so brightly, he could see it even through his closed eyelids. He couldn't figure out why he hadn't exploded into a mushroom cloud yet. When the surge ended, Xander flopped on his back, gasping for breath.

/...don't think about the pain... think past it...only good thoughts...baseball, Ding Dongs, Cordy's perfume...Cordelia...I wish I was back in the closet with you...where I can shut out the rest of the world and nothing matters but you.../

Angelus placed his hand over the tattoo. "I really, really love this thing." Xander sobbed when cool fingers slid across his chest. "Do you like it when I touch you?"

"No!" Despite his protest, Xander moaned and arched himself against the hand as it moved, his fevered body desperately seeking the cold.

Xander *needed* his master /no, not master, don't ever think of him that way!/ to drink from him. The thought of Angelus feeding from him again was repulsive, but every cell in his body demanded it. He couldn't stop shaking. His veins throbbed, clearly visible just below the surface of his skin.

/Ignore it...think of something else, think past the pain...don't let him control you!/

"Yeah, that was really convincing." Angelus chuckled, crouching over Xander. "Tell me...what did Buffy say when you told her we were lovers?"

"We're not lovers! You fucking raped me!" Angelus shushed Xander and held his wrists when he tried to hit him.

"Temper, temper! Answer my question. What did Buffy do when she found out? Be very specific. Did she get pissy and call you a liar? Was she shattered? Did she cry? She's so beautiful when she cries, isn't she? Damn, I wish I could have seen the look on her face..." Angelus studied Xander's reaction, and frowned. "She doesn't know."

Xander glart hit him, but didn't reply.

"Stupid cow!" Angelus roared. "What, was leaving your naked, branded body on her welcome mat too subtle a hint? Should I have left a sign tied around your neck that said 'P.S. I fucked him'?"

"Gee, if it means so much to you, why don't you let me go, and I'ell ell her right now?"

Angelus grabbed Xander by the throat, and forced him back down on the bed. "Why didn't you tell her? Huh?" Xander scrabbled at the strong hand crushing his windpipe, but couldn't get Angelus to let go.

"It's my life, my business!" he croaked.

"No, it's not your life anymore, it's mine!" Angelus growled, punctuating his words with a vicious squeeze before abruptly releasing Xander. "Damn it, you really know how to piss me off! The only reason I let you go was so you could spill your guts. Do you think it was easy coming up with something that could top killing Rupert's woman?"

Xander wheezed and rubbed his bruise-mottled neck. "You're pathetic. You're too afraid to face Buffy head on, so you pick on her friends. You're nothing but a big fat coward, and what you did to me proves it. What was it Spike said? I'm your insurance policy? You knew you'd never be able to beat Buffy, so you..."

Angelus cut him off with a brutal slap. Blood trickled from Xander's mouth, tingling on his lips, and everything seemed to slow down. "Shut...up," Angelus whispered, shifting into his demon face. His nostrils flared, and he fixated on Xander's reddened mouth. He dragged Xander to the bed, covering him with his whole body.

Xander closed his eyes, a ragged sigh escaping between his lips. The stiff denim of Angelus' jeans chafed him even though the sheet, but the layers felt a mile thick, too much insulation.

"I know why you didn't tell her," murmured Angelus, trapping Xander's arms. Licking his fangs, he smiled down at Xander. Hungry. Wanting. Grinding his hips against him slowly, deliberately, teasing him.

"Stop it," Xander whimpered, half-heartedly pushing against Angelus, desperate for friction that could alleviate the burning itch plaguing every inch of his skin.

"If you keep the secret, you won't ever have to face the truth: you're nothing to her. I could kill you, torture you, or make you my bitch, but none of it would change a thing. Your suffering doesn't mean jack shit, because Buffy will never stop loving me."

/"Oh, it's always all about Buffy, Buffy, Buffy with you..

"

"Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about!" Bucking and straining underneath his captor, Xander tried to suppress his hunger, but couldn't. The need for contact fueled his struggles as much as his desire to escape. But touch still wasn't enough...he needed to give his blood, /now, right now, damn it!/ and each moment's delay felt like eternity.

"Do you want to know what it's like, making love to Buffy?" Angelus breathed into his ear. He lifted himself just enough to yank the sheets away, leaving Xander exposed and vulnerable. "Would you like me to show you?"

"No, I want you to get off me and stop screwing with my life!"

Angelus suddenly rolled to the side and yanked Xander close. Xander gasped when Angelus slid his hand down his back and toyed with the dimple right above his buttocks. "Well, what do you know? Buffy is ticklish there, too." He nibbled Xander's neck, sucking the tender flesh gently, taking care not to pierce the skin with his fangs. "So soft, so sweet, she loved it when I kissed her this way."

Xander had to bite lip lip and dig his face into Angelus' shoulder to keep from begging the vampire to drink. Xander hated how he could make everything so utterly humiliating. This forced dependence, this mockery of intimacy was the most excruciating torture he could ever imagine. He reluctantly pressed tighter into Angelus' embrace, because being apart hurt more than the shame of being touched by him.

"Look at you! Once upon a time, you couldn't stand to be in the same zip code with me, but now you can't stay away, no matter how hard you try. It must be eating you alive." He kissed Xander's throat, hesitating there. "Here's the deal, kid. If you ever want to get a little fang action, you'll have to get me off first. Understand?"

/Son of a bitch! I can't take this anymore!/

"Yes, please, I'll do whatever you want!"

"That's what I want to hear," Angelus chuckled, kneading Xander's buttocks possessively. "Beg me. Show me you're my litslutslut."

Face reddened and shaking uncontrollably, Xander fumbled with the other man's fly. Gathering his courage, he slipped his hand inside. Angelus sighed when Xander's hot, sweaty fingers brushed under his cock and cupped his sac.

"Yes..."

Xander twisted the sac and squeezed them as hard as he could. Angelus' complacent smile melted in an instant, replaced by a tiny 'O' and a gasping squeak. "Do you like it when I touch you?" Xander asked mockingly. "Let's get one thing straight: I am not your bitch."

Xander screamed when he was assaulted by a blinding surge of energy. He dug in tighter, crushing Angelus's balls, refusing to let go. The two men remained locked together, howling in agony, fused by their mutual hatred and pain, neither wanting to be the first to give up.

"You're going to wish I had killed you!"

"Oh, bite me, Deadboy!"

Angelus finally relented, latching his fangs into Xander's shoulder with a sickening crunch. Xander exploded in a single, universe shattering spasm when every nerve ending in his body fired at once, the pain gradually morphing into pleasure. He let go of Angelus' balls and pushed his head down, forcing him to suck harder. Both men moaned and clutched each other with bruising intensity as Angelus drank. Xander knew he should be disgusted with himself, drawing pleasure from the release, but instead he was exhilarated. He'd defied Angelus, and that's all that mattered. The blood letting took its toll, and Xander started to drift, his consciousness fading.

"Oh, no you don't! Wake up, asshole! We're not finished yet."

Xander was flying. Literally. Angelus had picked him up, and hurled him across the room. Xander crashed into the wooden chest, tumbling to the cold stone floor under a cascade of porcelain dolls. He was so woozy, he could barely feel the impact. Three vampires danced before his eyes, all blurry but recognizably Angelus-shaped. Xander laughed when he saw that they all walked with a limp.

"You think that was funny, Harris? I'll show you funny. You'll be laughing so hard your insides will fall out." Angelus winced as he hobbled towards Xander, awkwardly pulling up his pants. He wiped the blood from his chin with his sleeve.

"Dru!" he boomed. "Get in here! You've got a brand new doll to play with!"

========================================================

*** LATER ***

"Dru? What are you doing?" Spike peered down at his lover, who was sitting atop Xander's thighs, carefully carving something on his back with a straight razor. Weak, muffled moans emerged whenever the blade bit into flesh.

"I'm writing a poem to see how long it takes to disappear."

"Um, you do know that's the alphabet, don't you, love?" Spike flicked his Zippo, and lit his cigarette.

"Silly Spike! All the poems in the world are there, if you know how to read them properly."

"Riiight...darling, why don't you give it a rest, hmm? You've been at this for days."

"Yeah, babe, time for some new action!" Angelus grabbed Spike's wheelchair handles, and popped a wheelie. Spike swore and fumbled in his lap for his dropped cigarette. "Uncle Spikey here can babysit the kid, 'cause we've got places to go, and people to kill!"

"Goodie!" Drusilla rose to her feet, and licked the blood from her fingers. "I could use a good spot of killing. While Alexander tastes divine, he doesn't ever die."

"Upsy daisy!" Angelus hummed while he hauled Xander off the floor, and dragged him to the chains hanging from the wall. Xander's body was a startling palette of bruises and welts, with barely a square inch that wasn't swirling with color. Bite marks branded his neck, buttocks, and thighs. Fresh blood seeped from the letters etched across Xander's back, but Angelus wasn't concerned. The bleeding would stop soon. It always did.

When Angelus snapped the manacles around his wrists, Xander groaned, barely cognizant of his surroundings. Angelus locked the cuffs and pocketed the key.

/...beach...I'm at the beach...the sun is shining and the gulls are flying and wegoingoing to build a bonfire.../

Angelus patted Xander's bloody, bruised cheek. "Hey, guess what?" Xander stirred and looked at him. "Tonight, Dru and I are going out to pick up a bucket of cheerleaders! What do you prefer, breasts or thighs? White meat or dark? Junior or Varsity?"

Xander's eyes narrowed to angry slits, and he mumbled something that might have been a curse, but it was hard to discern with his shattered jaw. Speaking was difficult, an understandable side effect after getting kicked in the face for insulting Angelus earlier. He sputtered and spit a bloody gob of phlegm at his tormentor, which Angelus easily dodged.

"No problem, I'll make sure to tell Cordelia you said hello. Mmm, mmm. She sure is a pretty one! Grade A, tender and juicy. I may have to do her before I cut her to pieces. You don't mind, do you?"

"D'nt...don' touch h'r!" Xander's voice came out as a raw, nearly unrecognizable rasp.

"Alexander loves the princess, I saw it in his dreams," said Drusilla. "I think we should make her one of us. Starve her for a few days, and then reunite them. You can feed her his heart, and it will be so romantic!"

"No, don't do th' to her!" Xander protested, shakiis his head vehemently. "Leave h'r alone!"

"What a positively smashing idea, babe! You make me so proud." He put his arm around Drusilla's waist, and escorted her out of the room. Looking back, he called out, "Spike take care of our boy here, but no snacking! He needs to build his strength back up. I'll bring you back a doggie bag instead. You like beagles, right?"

"Thanks, you're a real peach," muttered Spike. "Bastard."

"C'm back h're!" Xander flopped against the wall and tried to regain his footing. "A'gel! No! D'nt hurt her!" But the two vampires were gone, and he was alone with Spike.

Xander howled piteously, wracked with helpless anguish and railing against his chains. Too weak to stand, he hung slumped from the cuffs binding his wrists over his head, his swollen, mangled fingers jutting out at odd angles.

/No, please God, don't let them hurt Cordelia! Please let her be with Buffy! She can't die. There's too much I haven't said to her, so much she needs to understand...but I'll never be able tol hel her. I'm never going to get out of here, am I? Drusilla said Buffy wouldn't save me, and she's some sort of spooky psychic. Is...is Buffy even looking for me? Does she even care? No, don't think that. Of course she's trying to find me. Don't listen to Angel's stupid attempts to psyche me out. I have to stay strong./

"I'll kill y' A'gel!" he screamed. "Do y' hear me? I'll kill you!"

"Shut up, already! Christ Almighty, I've had quite enough of you! I'm about to go insane after listening to your blood-curdling arias for three days. Why don't you stop being such an insolent wanker and try being a nice doggy so I can get some peace and quiet around here?"

"Go t' hell," spat Xander.

"Don't get smart with me. I don't like this situation any more than you do. Thanks to Angelus, you'll bring us nothing but 100 pounds of brassed off, blonde trouble, and that I really don't need. If I hadn't bribed that snitch to feed false information to your friends, she would have found this place and dusted me and Dru by now."

"An' th' down side t' that would be.

"Sod off! I can see why he likes to beat the crap out of you. He can have at you for all I care, but I don't like how you're monopolizing Drusilla's attention as well. She's spending too much time playing house with you and her bloody Daddykins, like some kind of twisted nuclear family, and I don't like them getting so...familiar. Personally, I'd like to weight you down and toss you in the lake, but the poofter would find you eventually and be right pissed at me for getting his rent boy all soggy."

Xander stared at Spike, not sure whether he should be frightened. He was paralyzed, he couldn't pose a threat, could he?

"Y' don' hate me...y' hate A'gel." Xander struggled to his feet.

"This is true. You're not the one who really deserves to become fish food. But I can't kill Angelus, or Drusilla would never speak to me again. She's always been Daddy's Little Girl, which is why I liked to keep at least a continent between him and us. Since my killing him isn't a viable option, that means you, my young friend, have got to go." Spike rubbed out his cigarette on the wheel of his chair.

Xander's eyes widened when Spike casually stepped out of his wheelchair and walked over to the wooden chest.

/What? He can walk? What a big faker!/

Spike brushed Drusilla's dolls aside, and opened the chest. The hinges creaked, and after rustling around with the contents inside, he pulled out a machete. Grinning, Spike chopped the air with the blade a few times. "Haven't used this in awhile, but it still looks sharp!"

/What is he doing with that? No fair, he's supposed to be the weak one who leaves me alone!/

Spike traced the machete blade down Xander's trembling chest. "I knew someone like you once. An apple." He stopped when he reached Xander's navel, and hoisted the blade against his shoulder. "Dru and I saw her in Scotland. She'd gone so mad, she didn't kno know her own name anymore. Her owner kept her locked in a tower like Rapunzel, except without the massive hair extensions or handsome prince to rescue her."

Xander winced when Spike traced a finger along a cut on his face. Spike tasted his blood, his smile malevolent and cruel. Xander had every reason in the world to be deathly afraid of Spike, and cursed himself for underestimating him. "Oops, forgot. No snacking. You won't tell, will you?"

Xander shrank back against the wall. "A'gel will kill y'..."

"He can try," Spike said coldly. He played the machete, twirling the handle in his grip. "Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Every night, the apple would jump from the tower window, desperate to end her pitiful existence, but of course she couldn't die. Stupid ninny. Her master would simply scoop her up, trot her back up to her room, and it would start all over again. Every night, you could set your watch by her. Kind of funny, actually. We used to wager how far away from the castle she'd land. I won 50 pounds once."

/I don't get this. What's with the fractured fairy tale? Why isn't Spike chowing down?/

"Why d' y' care?" Xander groaned.

"I don't care. I'm just giving you an idea of what you can look forward to with Angelus. But today is your lucky day. I'm also giving you a chance to get out from under his thumb."

"Huh?" Xander was shocked. Spike, the Big Bad, the vampire who'd nearly murdered him and his friends on several occasions, was offering to help him? Xander began to wonder if he had taken one too many blows to the head. "Why?"

"Look, idiot, we both want Angelus dead, and the person with the best chance of making that happen is the Slayer. But as long as you two are bonded, she's not going to do her bloody. That means I'm stuck with both of you, and the thought of spending eternity watching you poofs dance the Nutcracker Suite together makes me want to stake myself."

This was a lot for Xander to take in. Should he trust Spike? Definitely not, but what other options did he have at the moment? He had to get out of here. He needed to warn Buffy that the vampires were on the prowl tonight, or Cordelia was doomed.

/Buffy has to stop them. But, if she kills Angelus.../

Xander looked down at the scarlet letter, then back at Spike, the question obvious. Did he know how to break the curse?

"Oh yes, this." Spike traced his finger around the A. "Not sure yet...but I do have a plan, which involves getting you out of here. There's a slight problem, though." Spike grasped the manacles. "Angelus has the only key, and these things are too blasted strong to hack through. We could wait a day or two for a better opportunity to escape, but I have a feeling you're getting tired of being violated sixty-nine ways to Sunday. I propose you leave tonight."

He raised the machete to Xander's wrist. "What do you say? Are you ready to go home?"

===== CONTINUED IN PART 11 =====