Broken (AKA Beautiful Broken)

Xander drove until night fell, and then he pulled off the side of the road so that Spike could take the wheel. His hands shook and the steering wheel was covered in sweat, but Spike had ordered him to drive, so drive he did. Unfortunately, with the sun beating in the front windows, Spike couldn’t sit up in front and tell him when to change lanes or how to handle the car that kept braking in front of him or which lane to get in or how fast to drive. Xander felt on the edge of his control when the setting sun finally allowed him to fill the last half of his master’s orders shouted through the curtain: to pull off in a rest stop once the sun went down.

“Master?” Xander called from the front and the curtain was shoved back as Spike threw himself into the passenger side door and looked out.

“Made bloody good time, we’ll get there in a couple of hours,” Spike offered without any further explanation about where “there” was. Xander breathed a sigh at having done it right and not wrecked the van or gotten them lost or gotten them stopped by the cops, but he just sat silent, not sure what he should actually do now.

“So, ya need the bathroom then?” Spike asked as he nodded toward the public restrooms. Xander considered his bladder and then the long walk to the public toilet with strangers wandering around cars filled with frighteningly normal children who yelled random insults to siblings. “Could do with a bit of a stretch myself,” Spike said as he opened the van door and started for the bathrooms. Xander snatched the keys out of the ignition and darted after Spike. Alone at night in a van was a little more than Xander was prepared to face.

“Ya need the bathroom, pet?” Spike asked quietly once Xander caught up and Xander looked at all the children dashing around the picnic tables, freed from the confines of the car while their parents took aspirin and argued about who had to drive the next stretch of road.

“Yes,” Xander said, intentionally keeping his voice low and biting his tongue to avoid saying ‘Master’ in public. Xander flinched as he waited for a reaction, but Spike didn’t comment; he just continued to walk to the bathroom where he leaned against the outside wall and made it clear that he would wait. Part of Xander felt like thanking Spike, preferably by falling to his knees. Another part insisted on saying upright in public and just a tiny bit of him resented the fact that Spike stood there as if Xander couldn’t be trusted to go to the bathroom alone.

Xander finished quickly, bothered by the strangeness of being in a public bathroom with people whose biggest concerns included whether to buy a new car or keep fixing the junker that sucked up money in repair bills. He hurried back to Spike who stood watching a pair of bikers who were setting up camp at a table recently abandoned by a family. Xander looked at Spike, trying to decipher the strange expression, but the moment passed and Spike flicked away his cigarette as he started back for the van.

“You want ta drive then?” Spike asked, and Xander didn’t even hesitate in his answer.

“No, Master.” Oh shit, the father in the blue shirt had heard that and was now ushering his young impressionable children away from the weirdoes. Xander ducked his head in embarrassment. Spike ignored the father and his slave as he strode back to the van and jumped into the driver’s seat. Xander quickly scampered into the passenger side and then sat there in a near panic over sitting in the seat, especially when there was a nice wide space between the seats where he could kneel.

“Keys?” Spike asked and Xander handed them over without comment. Spike started the van and then began pulling out seemingly without looking. “What ya thinkin’, pet?” Spike asked, and Xander had to really stop and think about the answer. His thoughts weren’t as clear as they used to be, not that his thoughts were ever crystal clear, not like Willow’s, and Xander felt a stab of gilt and pain. He pushed away the pain and focused on his master’s question.

“I don’t know what to do, Master.” Xander admitted.

“Are we talkin’ metaphysical, meaning of life rot here, or are we talkin’ about where you’re supposed to sit in the van?”

“Um, the second, Master,” Xander admitted.

“Okay, Some part of ya says ta sit in the seat or else ya wouldn’t be sittin’ there. Why the seat?”

“Because I have just as much right to sit here as you,” Xander snapped defensively, and then he almost stopped breathing in fear. What the hell had he said that for?

“You’re right pet, you have every right ta sit in the seat, so why are ya feeling bad about it?”

“Because part of me says I should be kneeling,” Xander answered as he tried to get some sort of grip before he totally lost his mind. Of course, he might actually be a little too late for that.

“Why? What does the kneelin’ mean, pet?” Spike asked, and Xander looked over, convinced that his Master had just lost what little mind the vampire had to begin with, kicked once too often in the head maybe.

“Kneeling…I mean it’s just…it’s what a slave does.”

“Right, it’s expected. How often do I live by what other people expect?”

“Never, Master?” Xander guessed. The bleached blonde had always made his own path, usually by rejecting every known rule to do exactly what he wanted exactly when he wanted to.

“Exactly. Kneelin’ makes the master feel big and mighty, and I don’t bloody need your help there, and kneelin’ reminds the slave of who has the power. But pet, any power I have is because you trust me ta help ya. If you wanted, you could’ve refused to go with Joyce, and Giles would’ve protected ya. Bloody hell, the pouf would give ya every cent of mine he controls. But ya came back to me.” Xander thought about that. He had made a choice of sorts, but he wasn’t sure what choice he’d made. He just knew he couldn’t stay with Giles without both of them sliding off the cliff to insanity.

“Pet, why’d ya come back?”

“To keep from going insane and taking Giles with me,” Xander quickly replied.

“Too bloody late for the watcher, but I won’t let ya go slidin’ off. Ya came back because I’m older and despite my habit of making bloody stupid mistakes, I’m a hell of a lot wiser than you. So my power doesn’t come from you kneelin’ at my feet; it comes from us both knowin’ that I have the answers you need.” Spike paused a long time before continuing, “But knowin’ I’m tryin’ ta help means ya have ta let go and trust me, pet. Obeyin’ is not optional.”

Xander thought about that as Spike maneuvered the van through ever heavier traffic, cutting off cars with frightening regularity and making obscene gestures out the window until Xander was quite sure someone was going to shoot them. He thought about what Spike said, and in one way he found it comforting: the thought that Spike knew what he was doing and could fix things. He wanted to give in to that feeling and feel safe in Spike’s care. On the other hand, he found a corner of his psyche resenting Spike even more. The vampire was suggesting that Xander needed Spike and was metaphorically on his knees even if he didn’t have to physically prostrate himself.

Xander hadn’t come up with any conclusions more helpful than a realization that he was totally and completely screwed when Spike pulled the van up to a dark warehouse before fumbling around on the dash for a garage door opener. Once Spike had gotten the garage door open, he pulled into the totally black cavern.

“Home Sweet Home,” Spike announced.

“What is it with you and warehouses?” Xander asked, so caught up in his own internal debate that he didn’t edit himself in time. Xander froze, but Spike just chuckled. The sound of the garage door sliding shut left Xander trembling in his seat and he grasped the edge of his seat and focused on Spike.

“I would point out it’s cheap, but I think we’ve established that I no longer worry about money. Funny, really. Angelus was always the one who worried about having money to indulge in human luxuries when stealin’ them wasn’t practical. Dru and me, we just took what we wanted and worried about the angry mobs later. Now I can soddin’ buy what I want, and it actually ruins some of the fun.” Spike opened the van door so that the van’s tiny compartment light created dark shadows in the large and echoing space.

“Stay there a bit,” Spike said, and Xander was relieved because he didn’t want to go out into that darkness. In six months he had lived in the light with the bright overhead fixtures never going off, and now the darkness scared him. It was like he didn’t know what was coming, so he couldn’t prepare. Xander waited until Spike threw a breaker or a set of lights or something because the whole place lit up at once.

A tiny kitchen and living area at one end didn’t even make a dent in all the empty space with concrete floors and exposed girders. Spike could have hidden a whole fleet of vans in the space, but instead Xander could only see a motorcycle and a very simple, unassuming Ford Taurus. Shit, Spike hadn’t been kidding about the being prepared part, Xander thought.

“So, this is home for the next three days,” Spike announced as he crooked a finger, and Xander hurried to follow, slamming the van door behind him.

“Pet, you know we have a problem with going back into the slaver’s auctions, right?” Xander thought about it for several seconds before answer.

“Yes, Master,” he replied guiltily.

“Bloody hell, Xan. You don’t get to feel guilty about it; Giles and Angel did the mucking up this time, but here’s the thing, you don’t have ta think of this as real, okay?” Xander just looked at Spike in confusion. What wasn’t real?

“Pet, if ya have a question, ya gotta ask it. Bein’ around Dru so long gives me an advantage, but I can’t bloody read minds.”

“What isn’t real, Master?” Xander asked.

“What we’re goin’ ta do here, pet. When I put the hip chains on ya, it’s about play actin’. You play act the perfect slave, and I play act the part of a typical Master, and together we get the girls back. But when we’re like this, just talking, I don’t expect ya to be the typical slave because I sure as hell won’t be the typical master,” Spike explained. Xander listened, confused, and suddenly he realized that he hadn’t gone to his knees. He quickly lowered himself even as he tried to figure out what Spike’s words meant. Didn’t he belong to Spike? Didn’t Spike want him? So, the hip chains meant he would act like Spike was his master, but he didn’t have a collar, and it sounded like Spike was telling him that when they found the girls, Spike wouldn’t be his master any more.

Xander sorted through all the possible meanings and all his varied reactions before settling on one question.

“Don’t you want me, Master?” Xander asked. Okay, that came out far needier than he had intended, especially since a chunk of him didn’t want the vampire to want him. A good sized portion of him wanted him to stop wanting the vampire so damn badly that it hurt. Giles’ suggestion about counseling might not be such a bad idea, he decided.

“Bloody hell yes, I want you, but I don’t want you pullin’ yourself apart, and I can see that ya aren’t givin’ yourself to me this time.” This time? Xander tried to figure out what Spike meant by that, and then it occurred to him. When Spike had gone to Leshar for help, back when Xander thought he was going to be given back, Spike had publicly claimed him, and Xander had been relieved, joyous—hell, he was thrilled. He had given everything to try and make Spike happy after that, well…with the one exception of trying to deck him after finding out Buffy was dead. But overall, he had given himself to Spike.

Now he didn’t feel that wholeness. He could feel Giles’ and Angel’s judgments pulling on him and he just couldn’t let go. Of course, he also couldn’t walk away from Spike. The thought of facing a job or a home or a life without Spike left him so terrified that he couldn’t even see straight. He’d always leaned on someone else, given his strength to someone else to use. That led him first to Cordie and then Anya. And Buffy. He still wanted Buffy; she had been so good and so sure that he could have trusted her and would have happily died to protect her, but the slavers hadn’t given him that chance. Buffy gone, Giles losing it, Willow missing, Anya probably vengeancy again. He had nowhere to turn and the thought of losing Spike made his stomach twist in pain.

He realized that Spike had started talking again and he struggled to focus in and prove that he was obedient, not that he needed to be obedient, and not that there was anything wrong with being obedient. Or not being obedient. Whatever.

“But even if ya can’t give yourself to me, we have to learn to work together as a team to get the girls back. So, we’re going to do some practice, but it’s just play actin’, Xan. You learn to follow me the way you did at the last auction, and we’ll start gettin’ in with the demons who have the top of the line merchandise. So, don’t go tearin’ yourself up over this. Just let that part of yourself that’s fightin’ so hard remember that we’re fightin’ together to get the girls back; we aren’t fightin’ each other.

Xander considered that as Spike gave his first order.

“Strip.” Xander hesitated, but he told himself that he was fighting to get the girls back, not even Angel would find fault with that, so Xander quickly slipped off his shirt and undid his pants before sliding out of them and folding them to put them to one side. Once more he knelt, this time naked, and to part of him this felt familiar.

“Stay,” Spike ordered as he walked back toward the van. Xander could hear the various thuds as Spike threw stuff around recklessly, but when he came back, he carried a handful of chains that he dropped on top of Xander’s neatly folded clothes.

“Right, we’re goin’ ta let that little mistake pass since ya didn’t have your hip chains on yet, but tell me what mistake ya made that would have landed us both in trouble at the slaver’s auction.”

“I hesitated, Master,” Xander answered, allowing himself to fall into the pattern without guilt. After all, he was play acting to get the girls back. He kept telling himself that even as all the anxiety and stress and fear slowly eroded under the pressure to obey. Nothing was strong enough to override the near-instinctive need to obey.

“And what would have happened if ya had hesitated in the auction house, pet?”

“I would have been seen as a disobedient slave; you would have been seen as a poor master.”

“Worse than that, pet. We both might have come under suspicion for tryin’ ta crash their party. What happens if they think that we’re tryin’ ta spring some of the merchandise?”

“They’d kill us,” Xander suddenly realized how much Spike was trusting him not to screw this up, and the fear levels rocketed.

“Oi, ya have to start gettin’ your smell back now, pet? Not the best timin’.”

“I can’t do this, Master,” Xander whispered, and he heard the heavy slap before he felt the sting on his upper back. It was a slap with a hand, but it stopped him, and he checked his position in his kneel, spreading the legs a little farther, and gripping his left wrist with his right hand firmly.

“Did you have permission to speak?” Spike asked.

“No, Master,” Xander answered, the rules and forms coming back to him as he titled his head downward in shame.

“And do you have permission to be afraid?’ Spike asked.

“No, Master.”

“Bloody insult to me. If you think a few slavers could take out part of the Scourge of Europe and the Slayer of Slayers, ya aren’t thinkin’ straight. You focus on me and nothin’ else, ya hear me?”

“Yes, Master,” Xander let himself relax into the part. He needed to be the slave for this to work. All he had to do was be the obedient slave and trust Spike to do the rest, and boy that was a lot harder to do than to think, Xander mused.

“Stand up,” Spike ordered, and Xander gracefully stood, his hands still clutched at his back and his head down.

“What do these chains mean?”

“They mean I must obey every command without hesitating,” Xander replied immediately, remembering Spike’s words. Spike attached the delicate chain around Xander’s hips and the familiar weight helped him focus on his job and not on all the ways this could go wrong. After all, if they got caught, Spike would be staked, but he would go back to the slave pens, and that was not something he was willing to do. He wouldn’t even consider going near a slaver if he didn’t need to find Willow and Tara.

Spike remained kneeling and now fastened the leather and chain hobbles, forcing Xander’s legs together a little bit. The heavy leather cuffs clicked shut around each thigh and around the ankles, and Xander felt the helplessness rise up, but he let himself believe that Spike would protect him.

“What are these for, pet?” Spike asked as he gave a gentle tug on the chain running from thigh to thigh. Xander remembered the day Spike bought them.

“To keep me from running, Master,” he answered. A stinging slap warmed his thigh.

“Wrong, pet. I never thought for a moment you would run. Now tell me what these are for.” The slap certainly didn’t compare with anything his trainer had done, but Xander also didn’t want to earn any more than necessary. He thought about his answer for a moment.

“For when I don’t trust myself,” Xander finally answered, remembering his confession in the slaver’s auction where Spike had bought him.

“Exactly. If ya can’t trust yourself, ya tell me, and I’ll help ya through it, but if ya don’t let me help ya, you’re goin’ ta end up nuttier than Rupert: that is assumin’ that ya don’t get us killed first.” Xander spread his legs a little, straining the chains between his thighs and his ankles as he thought about that. Spike was trusting him not to screw up, so it seemed fair to trust back. Of course, Spike wasn’t the one now physically incapable of running, Xander’s favorite survival skill. Luckily, Xander’s body had gotten back into the slave mentality quicker than his mind because his body remained motionless as Spike stood and walked around him, stroking a butt here and a stomach there and a thigh in between. Xander kept his eyes down as he waited for his Master’s inspection to end.

“Ya have a problem, pet.” The tone sounded like a question, but Xander bit his tongue and avoided another stinging slap just in time. Slaves only answered direct questions. Xander breathed out heavily as he tried to get himself back to the point where obeying was automatic. Spike continued circling after stopping right after he made his comment, no doubt to see if Xander would slip. A tiny bit of Xander resented that manipulation, but that same part understood the need to get back into character. He didn’t intend on blowing their cover, and he knew Spike was too good of a liar to ever mess up that badly, so Xander told himself to just trust.

“Ya don’t have a collar.” Xander felt the tap on his butt, and he folded into the formal Position kneel with his back straight, his upper legs making a ninety degree angle with his lower legs and his head bowed. “Head up,” Spike ordered, and Xander complied, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t look right at his master. He felt something cold and slithery around his neck.

“Why are your eyes closed?”

“It’s the rule, Master.”

“Not any more. If I tell ya I want your head up, ya look up.” Xander opened his eyes, and Spike reached around and unhooked something, pulling a silver chain from around his neck and showing it to him before reattaching it.

“Now pet, we can finish our work.” Spike said as he reached down to the pile again. “What are these for?” Xander felt the cool slide of his back chains against skin and he reminded himself not to give the snotty version.

“For doing what you would want me to do even without a specific command, Master,” Xander used his softest tones, the feel of the weighted stones reminding him that Spike not only trusted him but valued him enough to spend so much money on him.

“Exactly, pet. Ya have a brain and I expect ya to use it. Don’t need a dog following me around,” Spike ruffled his hair, and Xander let himself fall into the feeling of contentment at having pleased his master.

“And what’s this for?” Spike asked even as he bent over and tightened a leather cuff around Xander’s left arm.

“For figuring out a solution on my own,” Xander said, remembering drinking out of the sink faucet. An unexpected stinging slap on his hip made him gasp and rock slightly. A second slap came down, but this time Xander didn’t react.

“What was the first one for, pet?” Spike asked.

“I don’t know, Master,” Xander held himself steady, not sure whether Spike would punish him for not knowing. It was funny, the slaps were nothing compared to other punishments, he still shivered at the memory of the leather strings or the trainer’s knives, but he wanted to avoid them even more than he had the more severe tortures.

“It’s all right ta not know, just say ya don’t,” Spike reassured him, and Xander relaxed a little, still trying to figure out what had set Spike off. “Pet, I gave ya the right cuff for findin’ your own solution. What did I give ya the left cuff for?”

“I don’t know, Master.”

“I’ll tell ya this time, but don’t forget again,” Spike said, and Xander felt that need to please uncurl in his stomach as Spike gave him a task he could do. He mentally promised to never forget the left cuff’s meaning again….just as soon as Spike told him. “It’s for bein’ happy with yourself, being happy and tryin’ ta make me happy.” Xander now remembered the morning when he had woken in the cage to find Spike petting him. He remembered how good it had felt to not fight or argue but to be in his cage and enjoying Spike’s caresses. But now he imagined Giles in that room, looking on as Xander happily submitted to the cage and enjoyed Spike’s attention. Giles would have picked up the nearest wooden object and killed Spike.

“So, pet, why the second one?” Xander pulled his mind back to the present and reminded himself that he couldn’t afford to let himself slip. He couldn’t, and Spike couldn’t, and the girls couldn’t afford it either.

“I reacted to punishment, Master,” Xander replied. He’d known the minute he’d gasped that he would get another punishment, and he actually felt a wave of relief at knowing this answer.

“Right. So ya know the meanin’ of this one already,” Spike said as he tightened the right cuff on Xander’s upper arm, and Xander relaxed his muscles so that Spike could lace the cuff tight. When the vampire stood up, he held a single strand of black chain with three red crystals.

“Most important one, what’s this for, pet?” Spike asked. Xander thought of the best way of explaining his most important decoration, and the one he’d worked hardest to earn.

“For letting you help me with the pain, Master,” Xander finally said, and a cool hand didn’t just stroke his face, it also pulled him off balance so that he found himself leaning against his Master’s hip.

“Soddin’ right. Can’t none of us carry this pain alone, pet. Rupert’s goin’ under from the pain and won’t let anyone help him, and the pouf has lost track of himself and his life so much that he can’t see what’s right in front of him. Soddin’ idiots. Don’t want ya walkin’ down that path, pet.” Xander was released right before strong fingers played with the front of his collar, attaching the dangling stones. Xander felt the weight of the chains and the tightness of the leather bands and hobbles, and he let himself concentrate on those until he found a peace of mind he’d lost since seeing Giles again.

“Right, ya ready ta get into the role, pet?” Spike asked.

“Yes, Master,” Xander focused on the decoration as he thought about the fact that Spike had said they’d be here three days and then they could go look for the girls.

“Right, let’s work on heeling.” Spike walked away toward the van, and Xander rose to follow. His first step was pulled up short by the hobbles making his hip chains snap back unpleasantly and leaving his back chains swaying. Xander tried not to sigh in frustration as he realized how much work he needed to do. After all, slaves didn’t get frustrated, and Spike’s comments about his odor returning meant that he had to have this perfect if he wanted to fool demon noses.