Unacceptable Losses

Xander’s eyes fluttered open. He drew in gasping breaths against the feeling that he was suffocating, not recognizing that the firm strap around his chest was a seat belt.

“Easy, pet. Slow breaths now.” Spike reached over to stroke a cool hand down Xander’s chest, battening down his simultaneous relief and panic. It wouldn’t do to have Xander regain consciousness only to pass out again. “Almost home now.”

Spike clenched his jaw and drove just over the speed limit, wishing that he had been able simply to put the pedal down and get them there before Xander woke up, but getting pulled over and subsequently arrested for indecent exposure wasn’t exactly on the agenda. He had exercised more patience than he thought he possessed while helping to revive the other survivors then get Xander and the returned Fred out past the guards and back to their cars. Then there had been the brief debate over what to do about the other victims/statues. In the end the approaching sirens gave them no choice but to beat a hasty retreat and leave the manor and its occupants to the authorities. Fortunately, that meant that the remaining living victims would be safe in the hands of paramedics, so they could focus on their own wounded. Angel took Fred back to the hotel along with Dawn and Faith when Spike made it clear that he would deal with Xander alone.

“Spike?” Xander asked weakly, struggling against the seat belt.

“Yeah, pet.”

Xander carefully turned his head, slowly realizing that he was in a moving car. He blinked and struggled to focus. The last thing he remembered was being in one of the rooms at the Chambre de Sade with a large man pressing a ball gag in his mouth. The dull ache in his body felt unfamiliar, however, as though his arms and legs were coming back from having been asleep rather than the sharp, bruising ache he expected to feel across his back and thighs from a session under a dominant’s hands. He flexed his fingers experimentally.

“Take it easy. It’ll take a bit for the effects to wear off.” Spike glanced at the shifting man next to him as he pulled up to the curb in front of Xander’s apartment.

Xander took in the lab coat he sported, frowning. “What happened?”

“Let’s get you inside, and I’ll explain.” Spike quickly got out of the car and walked around to open the passenger door. He unbuckled the seatbelt, and gently swiveled Xander’s legs out to rest on the ground.

“I’m not an invalid, Spike,” Xander groused as he pushed at the vampire. Each movement helped drive the ache away.

Spike growled, the evening having worn away at his patience. “Harris, you’ve been mostly dead all day and who knows what else before that. So shut up and let me get you inside.”

“Mostly dead?” What little color he had in his cheeks drained away.

The vampire ignored the question and hefted Xander into his arms, kicking the door closed. Once again, the door swung open at his approach, but this time no hurricane wind greeted him.

Spike settled Xander on the couch and stalked to the kitchen to pull a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He slammed it onto the counter, struggling to regain control of the emotions that threatened now that they were safely home.

“Spike?” Xander called out, concerned at the vampire’s agitation. When he didn’t get an answer, he staggered to his feet. Balance was an issue for a moment, but he managed to stay upright. Slowly he shuffled to the kitchen.

Spike heard the movement, but didn’t trust himself to turn or speak yet. He had nearly lost Xander tonight because of that fucking urge for self-destruction that the man had going on, and that fear translated into a furious urge to lash out.

“Hey, wanna tell me what’s going on?” Xander sounded small and lost as he leaned against the archway leading into the kitchen. The tense set of the vampire’s shoulders along with his own missing memories began to freak him out.

“Go sit down before you fall on your ass.” He barely managed to keep the growl from his voice.

“You said,” Xander swallowed heavily. “You said ‘mostly dead?’”

Spike turned and stormed over to Xander, taking him by the hand and guiding him back to the couch. The gentleness of his touch contrasted with the fury on his face. He pushed Xander down onto the couch and shoved the bottle of water at him. Xander took it obediently, but let it rest on his lap, only then noticing that underneath the lab coat he seemed to be wearing very little. He shifted uncomfortably, realizing that he must still be wearing gear from the club.

Spike paced in front of the couch, ignoring the blanket that floated off of the couch to settle around Xander’s shoulders seemingly of its own volition.

Xander startled, but then welcomed the warmth of the blanket. “Thanks, Dennis,” he murmured.

“Right then. Short version. You were part of the sacrifice that the Havisham bloke was making to Riveda. He dressed you up, posed you, tried to turn you into a bloody statue for his auction while he gave your soul to the demon in return for power.” Spike glared, standing with arms crossed.

Xander stared back blankly. “Pretty much the only thing I recognize in what you just said was Riveda, and I thought we didn’t know anything about the ritual that was happening. And why are you dressed like some dungeon master’s wet dream?” Xander blushed and gestured at the leather pants and harness that Spike sported underneath his duster.

Spike snorted. “Compared to you, this is conservative, pet.”

Xander blushed, marveling that he had any blood left to blush with when the rest seemed to be rushing south in response to Spike’s attire. The knowing smirk that appeared on Spike’s face told Xander that his arousal didn’t go unnoticed.

But the smirk quickly turned back into an angry frown as the vampire considered why Xander was dressed as he was.

“Fucking wanker named Havisham has been taking humans and demons, making them into S&M art objects.”

“Oh.”

“Right, bloody ‘oh.’ He took you from his club Chambre de Sade, dressed you up as a slave and was ready to sell you along with his other creations. And at the same time, he managed to extract your soul to feed to a bloody demon!” Rage bled through as the image imprinted in his mind of Xander immobile and nearly dead blinded him to the hunched figure on the couch.

Of the many times that Xander had wished for the earth to open up and swallow him, this had to be the most desperate. Bad enough that Spike knew that he went to the club, but then to have to be rescued from being turned into a porn statue??

“Oh my god, did…were you…did anyone else see…” Panicked breathing started up again.

Before Xander could blink, Spike was next to him on the couch, petting his back soothingly.

“Breathe slow.” He quickly opened the bottle of water and held it to Xander’s lips. “Drink.”

Xander took a deep sip, forcing himself to calm down. Needing contact, he leaned backward into Spike’s touch.

The heat soaked into Spike’s hand and arm, reminding him that Xander was still here, still alive. He let that fact soothe his own fears. Xander wasn’t dead. They had reached him in time. Weariness slid in place of the fear and anger that had been animating him all night. He rested his head on the back of the couch.

Xander took in the strained lines on the vampire’s face and bit his lip guiltily. Even the brief overview of the evening gave him a sense of the seriousness of the trouble he had been in. Part of him didn’t want to know any more, but if he was ever going to show his face at the Hyperion again, he needed to know if everyone had seen him that way. Petty and ridiculous to worry about it when from the sounds of things he nearly died, but he kinda wanted to know if dying of embarrassment lay in his immediate future. He fidgeted, wondering what reaction he would be risking to ask again. Spike’s words prevented from needing to voice the question.

“We were all there. Took all of us to stop Havisham.”

Xander hung his head. Looks like no going back to the Hyperion then. God, facing the teasing that Faith would no doubt offer was one thing, but thinking of Dawn seeing him that way was downright mortifying.

“They’re just glad you’re safe, pet.”

“Shoulda just left me there,” Xander mumbled. His life was so screwed up. Only he could manage to go from a little illicit spanking to being put on display naked in who knows what compromising position. In his wallowing, he failed to notice that the cool arm pulled away.

“You ungrateful, arrogant git,” Spike was off the couch and pacing once more. Xander glanced up in surprise.

“We risk everything getting you out of there, and you’d rather be decorating some sick fuck’s bedroom?” Spike came to a stop in front of the couch. “What the bloody hell is going on in that lump you call a brain?”

Guilt and shame had Xander staring at the bottle in his hands, unable to meet that angry, accusing gaze.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“What exactly are you sorry for, Harris? For getting caught? For having your dangly bits on display for Dawn to get an eyeful? For damn near dying?” Spike sneered, hating himself for the harsh words, but unable to keep from striking out at Xander’s blatant giving up. He wanted to shake sense into the man, wanted to force him to face the memories that led him to hurt himself and nearly get him killed once more.

“What do you want me to say, Spike?” Anger began to spark. “I fucked up. Again. So I’m sorry, alright?” He tossed the blanket off his shoulders and struggled to his feet, determined to get to the bedroom and away from the conversation with the vampire, but Spike moved to block him.

“Tell me about this little club you’ve been going to pet.” Spike spoke through a low growl, causing Xander to blanch as he saw gold flashes in the eyes of the as yet human-faced vampire that stood in front of him. A warning breeze blew between the two men.

“Stay out of this, ghost boy. Me and the whelp need to have a little discussion about his choices.” Spike’s gaze never left Xander as he warned Dennis off, only to have the temperature in the apartment drop in response.

“It’s okay, Dennis,” Xander stammered. He swallowed heavily, reaching a decision with the sense that this conversation had been a long time coming. Taking a deep breath, he gave in to the inevitable. “I need to talk to Spike. He won’t do anything I don’t deserve.” The temperature rose slightly, but the breeze remained a subtle presence.

“I went because I wanted,” Xander started and stopped, “I needed…” He trailed off again in frustration as he dragged his fingers through his hair. The shame at having been caught out, not just by Spike but by everyone who knew him in LA, by Dawn for god’s sake, smothered his ability to come up with a glib explanation. He glanced down at the floor, unable to hold Spike’s gaze.

Spike watched Xander struggle and decided leaving the man to his own devices would get them nowhere.

“Bedroom.” He growled.

“Huh?” Xander’s head swung up to meet the fully vamped out visage, and he took an involuntary step backward.

“You have one minute to get your ass into the bedroom and present yourself.”

The absolute authority in Spike’s voice sent a shudder through Xander, lodging firmly in his groin even as his brain relished the opportunity to remit control of the conversation and its outcome completely into Spike’s hands. He nodded once and hurried to prepare himself.

In his wake, Spike took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of Xander’s lust as well as the man’s clean switch into submissive mode. He spoke quietly, knowing the ghost would be able to hear him.

“Ok, mate. I don’t know what you got up to when you were alive or what you picked up from the cheerleader, but if you don’t want your horizons broadened, I suggest you make yourself scarce. I’m not gonna hurt the boy more than necessary—and it’s gonna be him that determines how much that is—but he is gonna hurt. S’what he needs.” His voice became tinged with sorrow as he made that final observation. He felt a warm wind go by him toward the kitchen, and he took that for Dennis’s acquiescence. Shedding the duster he’d donned after leaving Havisham’s place, he reflected that he was at least dressed for the part he was about to play.

As Spike entered the room, he approved of Xander’s choice to turn off the bright overhead light, instead relying on the dim light from the bedside lamp. In the open space in front of the bed, Xander knelt, dressed only in eye patch and silver cock ring, head bowed and arms clasped behind him. Spike walked around him once, taking in the posture from all angles before coming to stand in front of Xander where he knew the man would be able to see his steel-toed black boots.

Slowly Spike unfastened his belt and slid it from around his waist. He looped the leather and snapped it once.

“Why are we here, Xander?” Toneless.

“Spike?” Xander asked in hesitant confusion.

“You on your knees to me. Tell me why we’re here.”

“Because you said…” Xander swallowed, unsure how to approach this. His dominants had never grilled him, just issued orders.

“Wrong.” The belt swung out and smacked across the man’s exposed back.

“Hey!” Indignant, Xander glared up at the placid vampire.

Spike’s gaze darkened and he flashed fang at the defiance. If this was the only way to help Xander, he would go through with it, but that meant no flinching and no backing down from the role he assumed.

“Eyes down,” he snapped.

Training had Xander obeying instantly despite being still off balance at accepting Spike’s dominance.

“You will speak when I tell you to, and Xander? You.” Smack. “will” Smack. “not” Smack “lie” smack “to me.” Spike took a moment to admire the red welts forming on the tanned skin. He swung the belt with far less than his actual strength. These initial blows were meant only to remind Xander who was in control, not to inflict excessive pain. Despite his fervent hope that it would not come to that, Spike had no illusions about how much the man would require physical pain in order to let loose the emotional pain that was slowly destroying him.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” Xander felt himself relax into the familiarity of the role despite his uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Spike took in the stilled form, recognizing the training as a result of more than a couple of trips to the local dungeon. He planned to use that training to his advantage.

“Very good.” Spike gently ran his hands over the soft, dark hair. “So we will begin again.” He stepped back. “Let’s try a different question.” He circled Xander speculatively. He needed the man to understand what they were doing beyond the physical level that spoke to his unconscious craving for pain.

“How long have you been letting yourself be dominated like this?”

“For almost a year.” Xander stuttered out the answer, not yet ready to think about what led him to this.

“What led you to go the first time?” Of course, he should have known that would be the next question that the damn vampire would ask. Xander clamped his lips together, unwilling to speak the answer so obvious to both of them.

“Arms at your sides.” Spike spoke dispassionately as he moved to stand beside the bowed form. “Every time you refuse to answer, you earn yourself five.” He raised his hand and brought the belt down against bare skin five times in quick succession.

Xander’s heart rate accelerated and his cock hardened in response as he focused on the pain blooming across his back. More, he begged silently, wanting to lose himself in the hurt, but Spike kept his word and after five slapping blows of the belt, he returned so that his shoes once again came into Xander’s line of sight.

“This is not just about pain, Xander. This is about submission. You will obey me, and that means that you will answer me when I ask you a question. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” His voice came out a bit rougher this time.

“Very good.” Once again, Spike reached out to stroke the man’s hair, needing to ingrain with touch the praise as well as punishment. He smothered a grin as he perceived Xander pressing lightly into the touch.

“Now, why didn’t you answer my question?”

“Um,” Xander attempted to collect his thoughts and form a safe answer. He settled on a truth that wouldn’t have the same raw emotional impact. “You already knew why I went, er, that first time.” He cringed internally at the blush he felt creeping across his cheeks as well as at the fact that while he wasn’t directly disobeying, he was skirting the lines.

“Hmm, suppose I do know the answer.” Spike affected a thoughtful tone that then turned hard. “But that doesn’t excuse you from answering when I ask you a question.”

“Yes, Master.” Shame and reluctance bled through the response.

“Why did you go to your club the first time?” The question recognized that Xander had a regular place to go in London.

“I…I needed…to be punished, Master.” Quiet, and incomplete, but an answer that Spike could work with.

“Why do you need to be punished, pet?” He stroked the down-turned head gently.

Xander shook his head silently, and Spike removed his soothing fingers, instead snapping the belt in warning.

“I…” he stuttered in automatic response. “I guess I’m just a sick guy, you know.” The last was said with a hint of defiance.

“Now, pet, you were doing so well.” Spike sighed although the reluctance to answer did not surprise him. “You answered my question, but you also agreed not to lie.” He snapped the belt once more, the crack sounding loud against Xander’s increasingly harsh breathing. The scent of fear and anticipation rose from the man at Spike’s feet, telling him that they would have to fight together for Xander’s submission to bring him to the place where he would be able to let go of the pain he held so closely, so possessively.

“On all fours.”

Xander complied with an immediate grace.

“Count for me,” Spike instructed as he swung the belt for the first blow.

“One,” Xander gasped out, surprised at the suddenly more painful strike of the belt. God, he’d never been dominated by someone with so much physical strength before, and he was all at once very aware of that fact. It increased both his fear and his arousal. Maybe Spike could give him what he had been searching for under so many other hands. Unlike those others, if Spike chose truly to hurt him, to kill him, he had the power to do just that no matter what Xander did in response. And unlike those others, Spike had a valid reason to kill him. These realizations raced through his mind even as he counted each of the fiery blows of the belt.

At ten, Spike stepped back, wrapping the belt around his hand as he struggled for control. Gods, the man presented a beautiful image, spread out with welts raised across his buttocks and thighs. Even as his heart ached for the pain that brought them to this place, his cock strained against the tight leather pants, longing to sink deep into the pliant body before him. Shaking off images of being buried balls deep in that ass, he moved once more into Xander’s line of sight.

“Stand up.”

Xander moved stiffly to his feet, keeping his eyes lowered, wary of what might come next. Despite a year under the hands of various dominants, he felt continually off-balance under Spike’s ministrations.

Spike stared at the man so visibly struggling to hold himself still. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down the side of his face. He’s hiding, Spike realized suddenly. Except instead of hiding behind the humor that served him so well with his friends, he hid now behind the mask of the submissive.

“Take off your eye patch.”

Xander balked. He never took off the patch, not where anyone could see him.

“Do I need to tell you again, pet?” Spike let the growl bleed through.

“I…” He reached up and fingered the patch uncertainly before steeling himself to obey. “No, Master.” Just another command, just another command, I can do this. He slid the patch off and offered it to Spike in a hand that shook visibly.

Spike took the scrap of material without comment, placing it on the dresser, relieved to see a more definite sign that they were cracking through Xander’s façades as the man’s struggle to remain in position became more apparent in the fine trembling that moved through his form.

The vampire’s frank appraisal had Xander ready to break into a distracting babble and retreat, and when Spike’s slim fingers came up to caress the ruined eye, Xander flinched backward, nearly stumbling over his own feet. A strong hand reached out to steady him.

Xander regained his balance and cursed himself for his tortured breathing that bordered on hyperventilating, or worse, on breaking into tears at the vulnerability he felt.

Holding him steady with one hand and gently stroking Xander’s chest with the other, Spike worked to soothe the man to the point where they could continue. Part of him wished he could stop now and pull the man into a crushing embrace to help drive the pain away, but that would countermand the goal for the evening. With that in mind, he released Xander and stepped back.

In response, Xander took a couple of deep settling breaths, bringing himself back to the submissive role that would both protect him and bring him the punishment he still needed so desperately. Pain would make him clean, make him better, save him from himself.

“Ready to continue?”

“Yes, Master. Please.” Xander hated the shaking in his voice, but couldn’t bear the thought that Spike might stop now.

“Right then.” Spike let the belt dangle at his side. “Let’s try that last question again. Why do you need to be punished, Xander?”

A shudder ran through him at hearing his name on the vampire’s lips in this context, but he focused on the question.

“I killed Buffy.”

The words, so stark and simple, hung between them. Spike reached out to run a cool soothing hand over Xander’s flushed cheek.

“That’s right. You killed Buffy.”

Xander wanted to pull away from the comforting touch that confused him. He admitted what he did, and that should bring pain, not comfort. Instead he schooled himself to obey and held still as the fingers caressed his skin.

“Why did you kill Buffy?” Spike continued his stroking as he noted the sudden frantic jump in heart rate and breathing.

“Spike?” Xander asked uncertain how to answer.

“Why did you kill Buffy?”

“I…I…Ethan…Ethan Rayne…he turned me into a vampire,” he stuttered through the facts. The hand left his face.

“That’s how, not why.” Spike observed. “One more chance, pet. Why did you kill Buffy?”

Xander remained silent, searching for a way to answer the question to the vampire’s satisfaction.

“That’s five more. Bend over, hands on your thighs.” He watched as Xander moved quickly to obey.

He welcomed the pain as the belt whipped across his buttocks, causing his cock to bounce and twitch. He couldn’t answer this question, couldn’t look at the whys when the fact of what he had done already overwhelmed him. Tears sprang to his eyes as the five strokes blazed against his already burning ass.

Spike heart ached, but he clamped down on the pity that rose in the face of the man’s pain and confusion. He had no doubt that he could use this route to finally reach the core of the pain, a core of guilt and betrayal. To stop now could mean losing that chance and condemning Xander to his personal demons.

“Stand up.”

Xander shakily straightened up.

“You’re doing so well, pet.” Once again the gentle fingers carded through sweat-dampened hair.

A tear slipped down Xander’s cheek, set loose by the combination of shame and praise. Spike wiped the tear away with his thumb and brought it to his lips as a precious gift, trying to take Xander’s pain into himself and share it.

“Tell me about being a vampire, Xander.” He resumed his gentle petting.

“It was…I could see and hear…” Xander struggled to convey the experience, “it seemed like everything. And…I was so strong.” His voice fell to a whisper. “Hungry, so hungry. And…” he faltered, “so angry. I wanted…I wanted to hunt…and hurt…and kill.” The last came out strangled.

“Yeah, that’s the demon. Wants. Takes what it wants. Pure instinct.” Spike soothed the trembling arms that still managed to stay at the man’s side even though the vampire could sense Xander’s desire to break form and wrap those arms around himself.

“Tell me about the anger. Was the anger why you attacked Buffy?”

“She didn’t know, at first. She couldn’t sense me as a vampire, I think, because it wasn’t real exactly, just a spell. But when she came close, I must have…must have changed, and she stepped back. Not afraid, not really, but I could see that she didn’t want to believe it. And then,” his voice took on a harshness, “she pitied me. She felt sorry for me, and I got so angry, so tired of being the victim of every evil that wandered through town.” The shuddering became more pronounced and words were gasped out.

“Why did you kill Buffy?” Spike returned to his original question.

“I hated her.” Tears clogged Xander’s throat. “When I looked at her…I hated her.”

“Not because you were a vampire.” Spike made it into a statement rather than a question.

Xander shook his head in misery, gut clenching with shame at the admission. How could he hate his friend, the beautiful woman who sacrificed herself to save the world, to save him, time and time again?

“Why did you hate Buffy, Xander?” Spike pressed.

“I didn’t want to hate her. It’s not her fault, I know it’s not her fault.” Xander insisted through his tears.

“We’re not talkin’ about her, mate. I wanna know about you. Why did you hate Buffy?” Spike could see what it was costing Xander to have admitted that much. The most loyal of all the Scoobies, he loved his friends to extremes, so to recognize that he also hated one of his closest friends had to be tearing him apart.

“When she looked at me, I could tell, she blamed herself…that I was a vampire.” Xander paused, pulling in a deep breath. “I blamed her, too. For all of it. For everything.”

“Everything?” Spike prompted softly when it appeared that Xander wasn’t going to continue.

Choked off whimpers forced their way past Xander’s closed lips, and Spike gave in to the need to hold the trembling form. Xander brought up his hands to cling to the vampire as the pain rolled over him.

“I hated her for all the pain, all of our suffering. For my eye. For Tara. For Anya. For Jesse. I looked at her and the hate…it took over. I killed her because I hated her and I finally had the power to hurt her back.”

Xander pressed closer, clenching his eyes shut, focusing on the strong arms holding him together.

“But she wouldn’t fight, not really. She tried to stay out of my way, but she wouldn’t hit me. The more she moved away, the more I wanted to hurt her.” He shuddered, every muscled tense. Suddenly he couldn’t bear being held, being comforted as the words spilled out and he pushed at Spike, needing to get away from the comforting embrace.

Spike allowed Xander to push him away. He stepped back as Xander dropped immediately to his knees, arms clasped in front of him, head down. Spike struggled with his control once more as arousal, sorrow, and anger all thrummed through him. He wanted to rail at the Powers for having let this happen, wanted to tear Rayne limb from limb for playing with Xander and Buffy so cruelly. Reluctantly, he also recognized that part of him wanted to punish Xander as he requested to be punished, to give in to the rage at the man who had murdered the woman who had at one time been his obsession with light and love, to exact revenge.

He shook his head. He could well imagine the fight: Xander as the enraged vampire set on the kill while Buffy held back, unwilling to kill a friend, demon or no. At the same time, a small voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Buffy had finally given in to the dance he had explained to her all those years ago, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the call of heaven and rest played a role in causing the most accomplished slayer in history to fall before a single, untrained pseudo-vamp.

“Please…Spike…Master.”

In response to Xander’s plea to return to the submissive, to the punishing pain, Spike picked up the belt he had allowed to drop when he had moved to embrace the man. He ran the leather through his hands, considering, not entirely trusting that he could safely step back into the role of dominant.

Spike flicked out a single lash across the strong back.

“Why am I punishing you, pet?”

“Please, Spike, please just hit me…I can’t…no more questions.” With the images of Buffy assaulting him, Xander couldn’t think. He needed the pain to make it all okay, to make him okay.

The belt dropped to the floor in front of him.

“If you can’t tell me, if there isn’t a reason, then this stops.”

“No, no, please, Spike.” Xander crumpled to the floor. Without the physical pain to ground him, he could feel his heart breaking, pulling him to pieces, shattering him. Strong arms wrapped around him once more and picked him up, settling them both on the bed. He gasped against the tears clogging this throat.

“Let it go, pet. Let it all go.” He gently rocked the man as the tremors turned into full-blown sobs as Xander poured out all the pain that had been poisoning him for so long.