Broken (AKA Beautiful Broken)

Xander walked into Giles’ apartment without commenting. He didn’t complain about the fingers digging into his arm or even the far greater pain of not knowing whether or not Angel would actually kill Spike. He tried to turn off that part of him that felt like it had a right to question and scream and rage because when he had tried to defend himself and his Master, Giles and Angel had been perfectly clear about just how many rights he had and what punishment would follow disobedience. So he stood inside the door with his arms hanging limply, trying to figure out what to do. With his trainer he would have gone into a full Position kneel. With Spike he would have gone into the more comfortable Down kneel. With Giles he really had no clue what he was doing so he stood there feeling like the naked guy in the middle of math class, which he had done once during that whole nightmares come alive nightmare, and that really wasn’t a good memory.

Giles practically stormed the kitchen, throwing his coat at the couch which it hit and then slithered down. When Spike did that, Xander would quietly replace it without even thinking about it, but now he stared at the crumpled garment in fascination. Finally a sharp voice yelled from the kitchen.

“For God’s sake, Xander sit down!” Xander wondered at the disappearance of Giles’ comforting voice, but he slid to the ground without complaint, crossing his legs Indian style rather than kneeling, which he suspected wouldn’t amuse the watcher. He continued to stare at that fallen coat, and he finally figured out what bothered him so. Spike threw his coat and occasionally Oz tossed his coat, but Xander had never seen Giles do anything other than carefully arrange a coat on a chair back or even hang the thing up.

“Oh Xander, I’m sorry.” Xander looked up to see Giles gazing at him in pity, and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Xander, you can look at me; that’s fine,” Giles told him as the older man knelt down on one knee. “Xander did Spike tell you to keep your eyes down?”

“No!” Xander vehemently insisted as he looked up at Giles in shock. “Spike helped me look up at people again.” Xander mentally begged Giles to understand how important Spike had been to him. Looking back, he could see how different he was from just days earlier. His trainer would consider him horribly ruined.

“Xander, by giving you these little kindnesses, Spike is just confusing you more, creating feelings in you that aren't yours,” Giles said, dashing any hope of Xander being able to talk his way out of this. Anything good he said would just be evidence of Spike evilness, so Xander resolved to just stay quiet. He really didn’t have anything to say that Giles wanted to hear anyway. Hell, part of the man had to like the fact that he wasn’t getting called G-man and annoyed by television references he didn’t understand. Xander thought about the four of them sitting around the table in the old library, but the thought of Buffy just made his heart ache, and the knowledge that he couldn’t help find the girls made him truly want to cry. He’d gone from useless to useful only for a quick blow job to actually useful fighting and kneeling at his Master’s side right back to useless again. The Xander version of the Cycle of Life.

He felt a pull on his arm and he stood as Giles pulled him up and guided him toward the couch. When Xander felt himself pushed toward the piece of furniture, he felt the panic rising, a part of his brain wailing about punishments that he logically knew wouldn’t happen but that he couldn’t escape in his memories. He didn’t sit on furniture. Ever. Not any more. Until now. Xander felt the cushion under him and he tasted a hint of Joyce’s cooking as his meal attempted to back up. He fought his revulsion down with practiced ease, but he couldn’t control the cold shivers of fear that traced his backbone. Giles pulled up a chair so that it was inches from the couch and Xander eventually controlled himself well enough to make eye contact with Giles, his fear retreating to a corner where it could howl without interfering with the rest of the mind.

“Xander? Do you ever want to just go off? Do you hate yourself or want to go out and destroy something?” Giles had such a serious tone of voice that Xander almost laughed. Did he want to go off? Constantly. At his trainer, at himself, at the world in general. And then he’d get scared because he wanted to go off and if he did, he’d be punished. Except he’d gone off on Spike, and he remembered the vampire falling asleep on top of his cage that night, a hand dangling down in front of his face as if reassuring him that Spike was there. But Spike wasn’t here now, and what was Giles thinking? He didn’t even answer that question, leaving it to Giles to figure that one out on his own. After a long silence, Giles continued.

“Do you feel like you *need* Spike to keep you under control?” What? Was Giles playing twenty questions now? He sounded like the tag line for an after school special: ‘Do you ever find yourself thinking about suicide?’ asks a bubbly teenage actress who’s just played the depressed teenage student on the verge of killing herself. The image made something click, and Xander realized that Giles was asking questions off some sort of list. A quiz like the girls used to do on the internet where if you answered enough questions one way or the other, the website told you that you were nuts. Hell, he didn’t need a quiz to know that. Giles’ heavy sigh broke his concentration. He looked up to see the watcher cleaning his glasses slowly.

“I know you won't answer me, Xander, but if the answer is yes, you're in some serious trouble here and you won't be able to fix this on your own.” Xander bit his tongue to avoid pointing out that he hadn’t been trying to do it on his own, Spike had been helping. However, he didn’t think that would have impressed Giles in the least. When Xander remained silent, Giles stood and walked over to one of the trunks that Xander had watched him open countless times to retrieve some weapon for Buffy. A little voice reminded Xander about the pain weapons could cause on flesh, but Xander’s logical mind dismissed the nagging whispers. He realized that Giles and Angel held a far more serious punishment over his head, and he reminded himself to just submit to them. If that’s what it took to save Spike, he owed that much and more, and if he had to tear out his own heart in order to survive submitting, he’d do that too. So he sat and waited.

Giles still muttered as he dug around in a trunk, and Xander huddled on the couch, pulling his knees up in front of him so that he didn't anger Giles again by sitting on the floor even though he wanted to so badly that he nearly trembled, but he knew wanting things was wrong. He focused on eliminating that ‘want’ thought as he laid his cheek down on his knee. The watcher stacked up a pile of various tools and weapons to the side of the trunk until he stood up with a long handled cutter in his hands.

"That collar is a symbol of slavery, Xander, and you are no longer anyone's slave." Giles walked toward him, and Xander started to breathe heavily as Giles words triggered older words that now lived in that frightened part of his mind that now started shrieking.

"If you are not anyone's slave, then you are not of use," the trainer had said as he approached the small man. Xander had expected this one to break inside a week, but the fierce little man with his dark brown eyes and coffee colored skin had held out. He had survived the strings until the trainer had cut off the worst ones and called in the healer before the damage was irreversible. He had mouthed off until the trainer had cruelly gagged him whenever he was out of the cage. He had refused to learn his kneeling positions, choosing to endure the whip and rejecting any offers of kindness from the trainer.

Trapped within his own cage and voiceless or kneeling silently in correct form on the side of the training arena, Xander had watched it all with a split mind: cheering the man's determination and jeering at the pointlessness of the gesture. The man now lay tied into a Spread position, face down on the cold floor with his limbs stretched out, but instead of stretching his fingers out, the man had them clutched into fists. The trainer suddenly turned and tapped three cages, issuing a curt "In." Xander and the other two slaves who were holding position immediately rose and went to their respective cages, Xander momentarily grateful that he was only allowed to look at the floor in front of his feet because when he was caged and met the eyes of this nameless little warrior, the man glared at him with accusatory eyes and damning expressions. Xander already knew he was damned though, so he didn't know why the man bothered damning him.

Xander and the others worked themselves into the cages, and the trainer checked each of them before sliding the front piece in and then putting them on the shelf. Xander then watched the trainer call for a cutter, and a minion hurried in carrying a red handled tool. The slave on the floor had his cheek to the floor instead of his forehead as was proper, and the gag made his cheeks bulge out on either side of the leather strap that bisected his cheek and locked on at the back of his neck. Xander had worn that for three days before learning to shut up just from the agony of his distended jaw muscles. This man had worn the gag for…Xander had no idea, but a really, really, really long time. Rebellious white ringed eyes scanned the cages with revulsion before going back to scream the man's silent hatred of the trainer.

The trainer knelt down on the floor, running a soft hand along the length of the man's body, an owner's gesture of kindness intended to soothe a distraught animal.

"This is your last chance my pet," the trainer warned. "If you're not of use, there is no reason for me to protect you." The gentle caresses continued, but the man tilted his head up toward the trainer breaking position even farther while his eyes transmitted his agony and his resistance.

"I am sorry my beautiful little creature," the trainer said with such sorrow that Xander could imagine that the trainer truly was sorry to lose the nameless man, but then the trainer brought the tool down and clipped through the collar at his neck. Since the collar was a solid metal circle, he had to make two clips before he could pull the two halves away from that dark neck, which showed a rainbow of bruises even on the black skin. Now the slave put his head down, forehead to the concrete and eyes closed as the hands relaxed, but Xander could tell it was in relief and not obedience.

The trainer walked away, and the minions moved in. They had short tusk-like fangs on their lower jaws, and the minions' mouths fell open at the sight. Xander remembered soundlessly screaming as they ate, but the cages ensured that no screams other than the former slave's own interrupted the minions' meal. Xander continued to stare until he could no longer gasp in enough air through his nose and he passed out. His next memory had been of waking with his trainer making calming noises and brushing his hair out of his face. Part of Xander had screamed at being touched by the monster, and part of him had shivered him fear and pulled so far back into his own mind that he didn't feel like his body belonged to him any more, and part hated himself because that man had died fighting the way Xander should have and an ever-growing part of him had found pleasure in his trainer's hand knowing that if he pleased and obeyed his trainer would protect him from the minions.

By now Xander felt the bolt cutters at his neck as Giles cursed and struggled to cut through the heavy metal. He didn't move, as though moving would bring him to the minions' attention even though he told himself there were no minions around. The minions were the past; Giles and his stupid assumptions were the present. Giles slipped and the bolt cutters went skimming by the back of Xander's head, one of the handles hitting him hard enough to make him see white flashes, and for a moment, he was grateful because it gave him something to focus on other than the gibbering voice in his head that whispered of minions and cages and whips and fangs.

He focused on that pain so much that he didn't hear Angel come in. He felt a cool hand pushing down his head and he thought that his Master had returned, but he tilted his head slightly to the side to see Angel bent over him.

"He's fine. It's a small cut,” Angel announced, and Xander realized that the handle had split the skin.

"Oh thank heavens. I don't know if I can do this," Giles said in a tired voice, and Xander heard glass clinking on glass.

"I'll get the collar off," Angel offered, but Xander suspected that Giles' comment had less to do with the thick metal and more to do with life in general. When the bolt cutters closed over the metal again, Xander tried not to flinch away.

"I'll be done in a second, Xander," Angel offered and then with two heavy clunks, the collar was cut into pieces and off his neck. Part of Xander longed to reach up and touch the calloused skin, and another part of him wanted to ignore the curious feeling of air around his collar line. All of Xander worried about how many parts he seemed to have developed lately, only Xander already knew he was near the twist and quickly going 'round it, so arguing with himself just seemed a normal step toward total insanity.

“I could call up a vengeance spell that would liquefy the slavers’ entrails right now,” Giles said as he reappeared in the living room with a glass of amber fluid. Xander could smell the alcohol and it made his nose itch.

“Probably not a healthy solution,” Angel said although Xander watched the vampire’s expression twist into something decidedly unpleasant at the mention of the slavers.

“Yes, quite. Right now we need to focus on Xander. We need to find a way to bring him back after being so broken.” Giles pulled the chair that had been in front of the couch back to it’s original position, setting his drink down on a side table and looking at Angel who had retreated to stand against the far wall. Xander noticed that neither of them so much as looked at him.

He hugged his legs tighter and reminded himself to submit even though he wanted to tell both of them off. What right did they have to act like he was somehow dirty and not even look at him, but the minute that anger rose, Xander pushed it back down because deep down he knew that he was broken and dirty and the only thing he could do now was save Spike from Angel’s anger. So he would go along with whatever they decided for him until Spike could come and stake Angel because that’s the only way he would get to go back to his Master, and knowing Spike’s history with Angelus, he doubted Spike could or would ever do that. So this was his life now.

“He’s not totally broken.” Angel finally said into the heavy silence.

“Look at him. He won’t talk, he won’t even bloody move,” Giles waved a hand in his direction and yelled before taking a deep breath. “Maybe the council has some resources to…” Xander’s stomach certainly did jump at the though of being given to some nameless council members considering how they treated Kendra and Faith.

“He’s not broken,” Angel repeated. “Leshar couldn’t have held him the whole time or he would be a mindless slave by now, but despite what you think, Xander isn’t totally broken; he’s still in there.”

“I would hate to see your version of broken then,” Giles answered dryly, and Xander flashed on an image of Dru playing with dolls or William chasing after his sire and master only to get backhanded into a wall.

“I had to threaten him to get him to obey Spike’s order. If he was broken, he would have obeyed without question.” Xander thought about all the ways Angel was wrong. He’d spent every night since disappearing in a sleeping cage, and before the auction, had never left Leshar’s building. He *was* totally broken and just a week earlier would have followed orders without a second thought. Okay, he would have thought second things, but he would have followed orders without revealing that he was even thinking at all. And he hadn’t surrendered to obey Spike’s order, he’d surrendered to keep Angel from killing Spike. But hey, no one asked for his opinion, so he just continued to sit on the couch and order his hands to remain on his legs and not touch his naked neck.

“But he did obey Spike, didn’t he? He bloody knelt on order.” For a second Xander lost the thread of reality and resented the fact that Giles had ignored him, but then it occurred to him that he hadn’t actually said anything out loud.

"Spike is honestly trying to help here and while I can't even guess at his motive..."

"His motive is patently clear,” Giles said while slamming his glass down on the table hard enough that Xander expected to hear the sound of breaking glass.

"I understand why you think..."

"Damnable Christ! You do not understand anything. You do not understand that William the Bloody slammed me up against a wall and tore into my throat without any warning. You cannot understand what *that* felt like after months in an Initiative cell." Xander didn't say anything, but he did wonder how an Initiative cell ranked up against his cage. But then again, Giles had always been one to see things from his own point of view, and now Xander could see that easier than he could before. Losing Jesse didn't rate more than a pat on the back, but losing Ms. Calendar led to months of angst and this weird insistence that her spirit was still around. Xander watched as Giles' hand went reflexively to his neck.

"He didn't kill you," Angel pointed out rather ineffectively if the glare on Giles' face was any indication.

"No, he simply announced to the world that he considers me his property and then he paraded Joyce around in a slaver's medical facility and then he shows up with Xander following him and acting like the perfect little slave. I hardly think it difficult to connect these dots." Xander could almost see the logic, except for the fact that it was totally illogical. Spike had nothing to do with his own capture, and Joyce needed help. “Spike is following his own agenda as always, and you are simply refusing to see the truth, choosing instead to act like a total git.” Giles stopped as if surprised at his own rage.

"He hasn't gone back to killing since Buffy..." Angel stopped, and the two men shared such similar expressions of pain that Xander wanted to reach out and comfort them, except of course for the whole kidnapping him away from Spike and making him miserable thing. That didn’t really make them comfort worthy.

"Indeed. Buffy. And whose word do we have that her death was at the hands of the Initiative?" Giles asked darkly. "Riley told me that they had put Buffy and Spike together in a testing room, and while Spike had restrained himself to spite the Initiative up until the last time Riley was able to contact me, I suspect that a vampire's hunger would overcome that resistance rather quickly." Xander watched from his own position on the couch, and Angel had a flash of guilt that Xander never would have noticed before. He wondered if he was thinking of his own inability to resist Buffy sexually or Angelus’ inability to resist the temptation to break William. Maybe both.

Xander was really starting to appreciate this being quiet thing; he was finding people far more likely to forget he was there and talk openly. Which was actually very different from having people ignore him and then avoid talking about anything too important around him. Of course, Droopy Harris would have simply taken that moment of vulnerability on Angel's face and used it to torment the vampire. Now he resolved to take that moment and try and twist the vampire around to his way of thinking.

"Giles," Angel said in a placating voice.

"No, it's bloody not understandable *or* all right, so if you use those phrases on me again you overbearing souled excuse for a vampire, I will personally stake you." Xander jumped slightly at the threat, and then quickly pulled himself back together into a ball on the couch as he realized that these two were obviously just repeating an argument they’d had many times before. Wow, Joyce shacking up with William the Bloody while Giles and Angel did the buddy fighting routine. He was gone six months and the world fell apart

"For god's sake, Xander, you *are* allowed to move, so *move*," Giles pointed out, his voice slightly slurred, and Xander flew from the couch to the wall, standing against it as he carefully watched the two men react with startled faces. He couldn't imagine Giles actually hitting him, but he remembered how different his father became after losing his job and starting to drink, and, he kept reminding himself, he had to prove that he could obey them so that Angel didn’t go back and kill Spike to sever their connection as slave and Master. He could let go; he would let go. His jaw tightened in fear and loss, but those things didn’t matter. What mattered was proving that he wasn’t Spike’s slave so Angel didn’t kill Spike.

“Maybe I’d better settle Xander in for the night,” Angel suggested, and Xander glanced toward the still dark windows. Let’s see, he woke up, had sex, ate, went to meet Giles, and then came here. He hadn’t been awake for more than a few hours, but he didn’t argue. Maybe if they left him alone he could curl up in his memory of waking up under Spike, a memory which he now expected to, on most days, replace his memory of Buffy and her green bikini. He could lose himself in the sight and feel and smell of his Master, in the taste of his mouth when Spike kissed him, in the sound of Spike’s laughter and the memory of his smile. Yep, time to put Xander away so he could find some peace where the little voice in the back of his head didn’t take the feel of jeans against his skin and invent the ghost sensation of a minion’s tooth grazing flesh.

“Maybe that’d be best,” Giles agreed as he used the arms on the chair to push himself up before retrieving his glass from the table. Angel started walking toward him, and at the last minute simply gestured toward a hall. Xander started down the short corridor and Angel’s voice directed him.

“On the left.” Xander opened the door to a perfectly normal spare room and his stomach tried another gymnastic maneuver with the whole climbing of the throat. Xander didn’t want to think of being alone on the single bed with the tall dresser and the bookshelves, but he simply stood in the middle of the room and waited. He heard the door close and thought for a moment that Angel had simply locked him in the room leaving him to figure the rest out, but the vampire walked into sight and sat down on the bed.

“Down,” Angel commanded, and Xander hesitated for a brief moment out of surprise until his little voice screeched so loud that he dropped to his knees, spreading his legs and putting his arms behind his back as he lowered his head. “Oh, Xander,” Angel sighed, and Xander realized that he’d failed the test. He started trembling.

“Please,” he finally choked out past the fear and the training. “It wasn’t Spike, don’t kill him.” Xander struggled to control the trembling before it progressed to outright sobbing and begging which never worked, and probably wouldn’t impress Angel.

“Xander,” Angel started and then stopped. Xander waited in agony. “I know Spike didn’t teach you these things.” Xander started breathing again since the words sounded like a reassurance. Of course, reassurance always came with the petting, but he didn’t expect that. He didn’t even really want that. He just wanted to curl up inside himself and think of Spike, but he couldn’t because Angel might try to test him again. If he couldn’t show them that he was getting better, they might blame Spike. And somewhere that logic didn’t sound right, but Xander couldn’t figure out the problem.

“Xander, did Spike tell you about William?”

“Yes…” Xander said uncertainly. He wasn’t sure what to call Angel.

"I don't know how much Spike has told you," Angel began uncomfortably, and Xander would have laughed if he could have found his voice. The vampire who had tortured William into splitting his personality was worried about what a human slave thought of him, and Xander found that uniquely amusing. He struggled to contain giggles that he half suspected were hysterical.

"I’m not sure what type of relationship you have..." Xander resisted the urge to look up in confusion. He knew full well that Angel knew full well that he had slept with Spike because even the shower wouldn’t have removed the smell, so the whole conversation was a little strange. Spike was his Master; he and Spike had sex. What’s to not know?

"He no doubt wants to fix you, that always was his favorite escape mechanism. If he focused on someone else he wouldn't think about..." Angel stopped, unable to finish the sentence without either incriminating himself or bringing up unwelcome memories, Xander wasn't sure which. However, Xander remembered how casually Spike had dismissed the leather strings torture. He remembered the way Spike had looked when he talked about William breaking, Xander remembered the sort of tortures demons liked to use, and he knew enough about demons in general and Angelus in specific that he could fill in the missing blanks just fine. Of course nothing Angel had said took the form of a question so he just knelt and surreptitiously watched Angel as the vampire now stood up and started nervously pacing.

"William wants to help you take his route, but William's response included rejecting himself and his whole past." Angel took a breath as he obviously tried to organize his thoughts. "Do you want to stop being Xander Harris?" Angel finally demanded. Xander thought about that. He knew he wanted to stop being Droopy Harris with the babbling and the insecurities and the constant feeling like he was dangling on the edge of every group on the verge of being rejected. But Xander Harris had things he liked: a real determination and an ability to think through a problem and some strength that allowed him to keep some part of himself away from the slavers. He finally answered.

"No."

"Spike's advice is going to destroy you, Xander. It's easy enough for a vampire to reject the human part of himself, but a human can't do that." Xander tilted his head slightly as he considered Angel’s words. Maybe that's why he took the name Angelus and destroyed his human past. Maybe Darla broke him, which would leave Joyce the only sane member of the group since Xander suspected that Giles was well on his way to breaking himself.

“And what’s more, this isn’t real for Spike either.” Angel sat back down and Xander now gave the vampire his full attention. “Spike has always gone from one obsession to another. In the beginning, maybe as a way to escape my attentions, but he still does it.” Xander took a deep breath, trying to overcome his fear in order to defend himself and his Master.

“Xander?” Angel asked. Xander suspected that the word was the closest he was going to come to getting permission to speak. He used his observations before and thought carefully for the words that would dig into Angel the deepest.

“You broke William when you walked away, but now you’re making Spike walk away from me,” Xander fired his biggest missile and watched the sour expression on Angel’s face as the vampire considered those words.

“Xander I don’t want you to get hurt,” Angel said, “but the fact is that Spike’s attentions will eventually turn somewhere else. Dru turned him, and yet when he saw how I wanted Buffy, he obsessed over her until Dru left him over it. He has no blood bond with you, and I know it feels like he’s the most devoted…Master….in the world, but when his obsession turns again, you’re going to be left alone or possibly even turned.” Xander thought about those words and most of him clung to the belief that Spike did care as he taught Xander to break with rules with a smile. Eventually, Angel continued.

“Even if he doesn’t lose interest in you, he’ll still turn you because he won’t give up on an obsession, and letting you get old and die just isn’t in his character. Xander, you need to break away from Spike for your sake and for his.” Xander looked up at the idea that he had to give up for Spike, and Angel leaned down so they looked directly into each other’s eyes. “You can’t watch his back and protect him the way a mate could, and if Spike doesn’t have you, he’ll find a mate, maybe even go back to Drusilla. That’d be better for both of you,” Angel said before standing up.

“The door and the window have alarms, so you can’t open them from the inside without Giles knowing, and if you go missing, either Giles or I will go straight to Spike,” Angel said in clear warning, and Xander dropped his head in submission, recognizing the threat as genuine. “So stay here and think about what I said, Xander.” The door closed and Xander decided that he really didn’t like this no talking stuff because it just gave people who normally didn’t talk entirely too much time to talk.

Droopy Harris might have been an idiot, but he would have told Angel to shut up before the broody vampire had managed to say things that had sunk barbs into Xander’s soul. He had so wanted to lose himself in the memory of Spike’s touch, but now he shied away from that image because he didn’t want to think about his Master’s face and search the remembered angles for evidence of obsession. He wanted to believe that Spike wanted him, not just someone to obsess over. Of course, he’d be willing to accept that place in his Master’s life if Angel hadn’t added the closing words. Drusilla was stronger, Xander realized. Any vampire would be stronger. He dismissed his thoughts abruptly as he stood to look around the room.

Xander faced the bed with suspicion. He found himself desperate for his Master's chains and his Master's body holding him down and making him feel safe and at this point he even felt desperate for the cage. Instead, he was faced with the most frightening thing in the world: choices.

Knowing that he would never get any sleep at all on the bed, Xander stripped off his clothes and looked at the space between the dresser and the corner. It was small, but he was used to sleeping in small places, and as he sat down and arranged his limbs in the small corner, the solid surfaces to gave him a sense of boundary and border that he had lost when he had left Spike struggling in Angel's grip. He felt the presence of tears warm his eyes and he took deep breaths to try and calm himself, but as he squirmed around, he knew that he would never be able to relax enough to actually sleep, and he really suspected that he was going to need his rest. Eyeing the bed thoughtfully, he considered options and possible punishments even though a big part of him gave a mighty eye roll and pointed out that Giles' idea of punishment was making him alphabetize books.

Making his decision, Xander went over and pulled the blanket off the bed, folding it neatly and putting it on the floor next to the door. Then he took the top sheet with him back to the corner where he tangled his arms around in the cotton fabric and then hid his work under a drape of fabric. Now if he just could scoot forward onto the trailing edge of the sheet.... Xander lifted up and used his heel to pull the end of the sheet under him both keeping the itchy carpet off his backside and pulling his arms down. He hoped that if Giles came in, the man would assume that he had tangled himself in the sheet overnight. In reality, he had bound his arms firmly enough that he could now relax and have them trapped tightly against him, but if he squirmed too much, he would pop free. He didn't squirm. Carefully nestling himself down on the floor with his back to the dresser and his knees scrunched up against the wall so that he could barely move in the cramped space with his arms bound, he settled down for a poor night's sleep