Broken (AKA Beautiful Broken)

*

As they walked into the casino, Xander wondered why he hadn’t taken Spike up on the offer to let him stay with Joyce, well that and he wondered how the demons got away with being so obvious. Spike had dressed Xander in leather flaps- black trimmed with red, no surprise there- that hung from the front and the back of Xander’s hip chains to barely cover the most vital areas. Even so, as they walked through the main room with the various dealers and gamblers and tourists, Xander was still very obviously a decorated and collared slave following at heel behind his master, and he wasn’t the only one. Humanoid demons with tiny horns or blue skin or neck gills had human slaves at heel or even on a leash, and no one really paid attention.

Well, almost no one. Xander amended that thought as he spotted the three blue-haired ladies gaping with open mouths near the front entrance. Surprisingly, they weren’t exactly in a hurry to leave either. One clutched at her friend’s arm and pointed, and Xander followed the finger with his gaze until he saw them: a tailed female demon leaned against the bar and at her feet knelt a well-muscled human slave, his hands held at the small of his back and his loincloth threatening to abandon its duty as an obvious erection pushed from underneath. His mistress’s tail flicking along his chest obviously wasn’t helping the man with his threatening wardrobe malfunction. The sight stirred Xander as well, but not for the same reasons as the ladies who seemed on the verge of hyperventilating out of either lust or horror, possibly both. That was a slave strong enough to defend his mistress; a slave strong enough to fight at Spike’s side, Xander considered as he concentrated on staying as close to his own Master as possible without causing either of them to trip.

What did those ladies think, anyway, he wondered. He’d grown used to the fact that the citizens of Sunnydale became a bit jaded living on the Hellmouth, but these ladies should be running and screaming from the sight of so many demons, not gawking at a nearly naked slave- even if the slave in question looked like an extra from some gladiator movie. Then again, people had an incredible ability to explain the inexplicable, and they probably thought they’d stumbled into a convention of kinky make-up artists and special effects techs. And really…the waitresses didn’t wear much more than the slaves, so maybe he didn’t look too outrageous given the setting.

Spike headed straight for the elevators and Xander stayed close behind, kneeling beside Spike as they waited for the elevators and wondering how many of the people wandering past them to the bathrooms knew what was going on and how many thought they were just a kinky gay couple. Then it occurred to Xander that what they had done last night and the night before and that morning in the shower…that kinda made them a kinky gay couple. God, he’d thought Anya was insatiable, but she had nothing on the Spike & Xander Show, all porn all day and all night. Xander just wondered why the constant sex bothered him with Anya when he really didn’t have a problem with it coming from Spike. He hoped that if Anya had gone all vengeancy again she never found out that he liked sex with Spike more because Spike had definitely gotten him to try kinky stuff that he had given a blunt ‘no’ when Anya had asked.

The elevator dinged its arrival and Xander stood and followed Spike inside, kneeling between his master and the wall of the elevator. As two demons without slaves entered the car after them, Xander could feel his heart rate increase as panic threaded its way through his awareness, but suddenly Spike leaned into him so that Xander could feel the leather of the vampire’s coat press against his arm, and Xander leaned back gratefully. The silent promise of protection calmed his heart even as it triggered his guilt. The elevator doors slid open onto the lower levels, and the traditional noises of a slave auction and show assaulted Xander’s senses.

Spike strode confidently out into the crowd, and Xander followed behind, keeping his eyes on the ground when he saw that many of the demons stopped to look at him. He kept repeating his internal mantra—Spike wouldn’t leave him, Spike wouldn’t leave him. He repeated it, keeping most of his mind busy with that affirmation while he allowed his training to move his body automatically. Spike walked; he stayed at heel. Spike stopped, he knelt gracefully. Spike cursed out some demon; Xander tried his best not to absolutely panic and go bolting out of the room. When that impulse occurred, Xander knew he was in trouble.

As Spike finished a conversation with a large grey demon, Xander leaned into Spike’s leg hard enough for Spike to know that it wasn’t an accident. When Spike ignored him and started walking back into the crowd, Xander felt his heart pound nearly out of his chest and only the fear that some other demon would grab him sent him scrambling after his Master. Oh yeah, he might have worked through his fear of abandonment, but based on his current state of near-heart attack, he wasn’t over the fear of being kidnapped.

Of course, he had actual reasons for that fear: Leshar, bug-lady teacher, Angel’s offer to share him with Spike, Spike’s whole “love spell” incident, the zombie trio, Faith, Lirowaus, and a dozen demon brothel clients that he really wasn’t going to think about. Yep, he had issues with supernatural creatures, and he certainly still had that in common with Droopy Harris. Hell, even Anya’s appearance in and subsequent hijacking of his life fit the pattern. Xander focused on these thoughts so that he wouldn’t focus on the demons that turned and watched him while he walked in his Master’s wake. Still, when Spike found a quiet bench in a side hall leading to the back staff area, Xander could have blessed his master as he lowered himself to his knees in the relative quiet. Of course blessing a vampire might not be the best reward. He wondered briefly whether a priest’s blessing could actually hurt his Master, and then he realized that he had missed a question.

“I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t hear the question,” he admitted red-faced.

“Noticed. Ya doin’ alright, then?”

“No, Master.”

“Tell me what’s wrong, pet.”

“I keep imagining that all the demons are looking at me,” Xander said even though it sounded arrogant, even to his own ears.

“They are. You’re a beautiful slave, and when Lirowaus took ya, he made sure to tell the whole community. Now he’s dead and I’m showin’ up with you at heel. People are lookin’ at you because you’re bloody beautiful to watch, and because they’re soddin’ dyin’ to know what in the bloody hell happened.” Xander thought about that for several seconds. “Besides, when they looked at ya last auction all you did was swing your hips more,” Spike pointed out. “So, try tellin’ me what’s really wrong.”

“I’m afraid one will try to take me,” Xander finally admitted after several moments of weighing the possibility that he would offend his Master by implying that he couldn’t protect his slave, against the fact that he really didn’t want to lie. Hell, he was the one who had leaned into Spike to try and silently ask for help. “Not that I don’t trust you to protect me, because I do, but I’m behind you.” Xander stopped when he realized he was on the verge of babble. Actually, he’d been on the verge since walking through the rear entrance to the casino, but now he was on the verge of actually babbling his babble.

Xander had dropped his eyes to Spike’s knee and he watched the creases in the denim and tried not to think about how pathetic he was. The on his knees with his legs spread, butt resting against his heels with his palms resting on his thighs part…that didn’t bother him. But being afraid to walk behind his master in a crowd made him feel even lower than Cordelia’s insults had, and he never thought he could feel lower than that. But then a hand cupped his chin and pulled his head up so that he looked into his Master’s bright blue eyes.

“I told ya to let me help when you couldn’t do it alone, and I’m proud of you. It’s bloody hard to admit when ya need help,” Spike said and then he started sifting through pockets in his duster. “Here it is,” Spike finally exclaimed, and Xander watched Spike pull out a long length of the same black mage steel that made his collar. He watched as Spike attached one end of the thin chain to the collar before standing with the other end in hand.

“An elephant couldn’t break this stuff, pet. No one takes you without me knowing,” Spike promised before starting back toward the crowd of demons and slaves who flowed by in the main corridor. Xander rose to follow, and as he watched the leash swaying and felt its slight weight, he actually did feel better as he followed a little farther back, far enough that he could get a proper swing going with his hip chains.

Only seconds before they reached their destination, Xander noticed that they were headed for the cubicle where the shurl demon had set up shop. Xander went to his knees when Spike stopped, and the woman moved toward them in a graceful sideways walk, her curving horns tilted to one side as she considered them, and Xander watched out of the corner of his eye as a slow smile overtook her features.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a voice that danced from low deep tones to bright musical ones within four words. Xander caught glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, lookin’ for a tattoo.”

“I did assume that.” She glanced first at Spike and then she looked at Xander for so long that he found himself mesmerized by her eyes: swirls of greens and blues and reds and yellows that took on strange patterns.

“How much, then, to do the boy?” Xander almost choked on his own tongue. Spike had warned him to steer clear of the shurl because they were seers, and after the fight at the last auction he’d explained how they tattooed a person’s inner truth on their skin. The strongest masters reveled in having their inner strength displayed on their chests or arms, but many a demon had found their inner weakness displayed for all to see in indelible ink.

“Won’t tattoo the unwilling,” she replied, and Xander risked a quick look up. She pounced on his mistake by kneeling down in front of him so quickly that he couldn’t respond.

“Do you see yourself?” she asked seriously, and in the absence of a mirror, Xander looked at her confused for a moment before he dropped his head submissively.

“No, miss,” he replied.

“No, you do not.” She stood and looked from the slave to the Master, and Xander expected that they were on the verge of being dismissed from the booth. He could feel Spike’s leg twitching with nervous energy beside him.

“Right, the boy don’t see himself, I could’ve told you that. That’s why I’m bringin’ him here, innit? You show him what he has inside.” Xander thought about that, and wondered if he would have an image of a bug with its wings torn off tattooed into his hide. Maybe a bird with a wing so mangled that a bone protruded from the feathers.

“Do you want it?” the shurl asked, and it took Xander a moment to realize that she was speaking to him. He considered his feelings before answering.

“If Master wants it,” Xander admitted. He couldn’t say he really cared.

“I will only do the tattoo if you both want it, for I will not tolerate an angry vampire seeking revenge for my image.” She waved a bluish-green arm and flipped her head so that her hair flew back and her horns made a circle in the air.

“Not going to bloody hold anything against you, so just do the soddin’ thing,” Spike demanded and Xander waited through another long silence.

“I cannot do his without also showing yours.”

“Wot? My truth tattooed on him? Thought you lot wouldn’t paint anything except a person’s own truth?”

“Two and two sacred,” she said reverently.

“Bloody hell, don’t start talking ‘bout stars or I’m out of here.” The shurl laughed at that.

“Two,” she tapped on Spike’s chest- “and two” -Xander felt her tap on his own head- “four.”

“Right, so ya goin’ ta do the work or not?” Xander thought about the demon’s words a little more carefully. Spike was two – William and Spike, and now she said Xander was two. Suddenly she laughed and turned back toward them after showing them her ridged back as a response to Spike’s comment.

“The boy knows truth,” she joyfully sang in her ringing tones. “Sacred four within two.”

“So, do ya know whether or not she’s doin’ the tattoo, pet?” Spike asked.

“No, Master.” Suddenly the demon moved closer and cocked her head at Spike before she started laughing.

“The young one deceives. He knows the sacred; four in two—one.” Assuming that the demon meant that Spike actually did understand, Xander looked up at his Master with questioning eyes.

“Oi, it’s shurl nonsense. They see the number four as sacred, and when two pair of soulmates find each other, they see the foursome as a sacred union,” Spike explained.

“Yes. Four two one,” the shurl commented as if that made sense. Xander waited for someone to actually translate that.

“You have four minds in two bodies, but you are one and will always be one. I cannot tell one truth without the other because you are four and you are two and you are one.” Xander considered her words and he looked up at Spike in wonder. Could Spike feel that way after he’d been so weak around the vampire?

“Yeah, if she wants to call it some holy nonsense, she can, don’t care, but I do know that we are a pair. Only person I came as close to carin’ about this much was Dru, and she soddin’ treated me like dirt when she remembered to treat me like anythin’ at all.” Xander felt Spike’s hand cup the back of his head, and he leaned into the vampire’s leg.

“You are his center,” she told Spike. “He seeks you always.” The shurl wandered around the room, seemingly without purpose as she touched various object on the shelves. “I will show him,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “show him and you.” Xander watched as Spike fixed the demon with a suspicious gaze, but Xander found himself suddenly pulled to his feet by the deceptively strong woman and guided to a chair that reclined back, Spike pulled along by the leash wrapped around his hand, which he refused to let go.

“Truth requires pain always,” she said, and Spike stepped up.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, come on, pet.” Spike reached out to take Xander’s hand, but Xander resisted and Spike stopped almost immediately.

“Xander, what are ya thinkin’?” Spike asked.

“I want to know.” Xander said as he focused on his Master’s stomach, unable to meet his eyes. “I have to know what’s inside and whether I’m…” Xander struggled to find a word. He knew he was broken, but he wanted to know if the pieces could ever be put back together again.

“Still repairable still strong,” the shurl interrupted his attempts to find words. “But do not say I told you first.” She winked a large swirling eye and Xander remembered Spike explaining that a shurl would never reveal anything about the image beforehand. He looked at her amused expression and realized that she was breaking one of her people’s rules, but her face somehow expressed both extreme age and a slight disdain for all rules, including her own people’s rules.

“Ya sure about the pain part, pet?” Spike asked, and Xander nodded.

“Just…stay?” he asked, feeling like a five-year-old clinging to his mother.

“Shove over then,” Spike ordered, and Xander found himself sharing the reclining chair with Spike who first settled himself in, jamming his own body into the space intended for only one person, and then pulling Xander on top so that he lay more on Spike than on the couch. Suddenly the shurl appeared with a tray of paints and an array of brushes. She set up next to the couch without commenting on the seating arrangements and settled down to work.

She hummed a wordless tune as she took a brush and dipped it in red ink before laying it against the skin over Xander’s heart. At first it felt like the time Willow had taken her water colors to him, but then the shurl demon’s hum became louder and her free hand made motions in the air, and Xander’s skin suddenly felt as if it was being slowly stripped.

The pain eased as she tossed the first brush on a counter and picked up another brush and dipped it in black. Her free hand never stopped motioning and her voice never stopped its hum-chant, and now the sensation of having skin stripped turned into a burning as the new paint touched his skin. Xander tried to jerk away from the pain, but he couldn’t move as the black brush flew to the nearby counter and she picked up another and dipped it in brown. Xander gasped for air and threw his head back as the pain continued, and he felt Spike’s cheek against his own, Spike’s hands entwined with his own, Spike’s body supporting him.

Then he understood that Spike was giving him what Giles and Angel and even Buffy never had. Spike was giving him the truth, and if it turned out that he carried the image of a broken and bleeding rat being dragged off by Spike’s demon, it would be the truth and he could handle it. Spike wanted him to know himself, and he could do that. For Spike, he *would* do that; he’d survived Lirowaus, and as long as Spike never left him, he could survive looking at himself. So he tried to relax between the layers of ink, to take shelter in the comforting touches of his Master as the shurl painted on the layers, and gestured with nimble fingers that moved so fast that Xander couldn’t see the pattern formed beneath. Grey, a touch of yellow, a touch of green, silver: he watched the shurl apply color after color as he laid his head in the crook of Spike’s neck and tried to just breathe through the agony.

“For the healing now,” the shurl finally said as she put her paints to one side and picked up a white cream. She smoothed it over the skin of his chest, the left side directly above the heart, and when Xander looked down to see the image, he could only see the white cream blending with either red paint or, more likely given the pain, his own blood. The now-pink substance covered the pattern and the shurl continued to chant as the cream slowly stopped burning and now turned cool.

Xander’s breathing returned to normal, and the shurl pulled back as she grabbed a towel and in a single swipe removed the mess and revealed a stylized “Sx” pattern. The “S” was a black snake banded in red and the “x” was a bird, a hawk if Xander remembered biology class. He gasped at the grace and beauty and strength of both parts of the tattoo. The upper half of the “x” was the bird’s wings and head; the bottom half was the bird’s long tail feathers on one side, and the bird’s thick legs reaching down toward the snake’s tail on the other. The bird wore a silver chain round its neck and Xander reflexively reached up and touched his own black collar. Xander bent down and looked close to find that the hawk, which was half the size of the snake, still had his talons buried deep in the snake. He could feel Spike under him, shifting in order to get a better look.

“Right, I’d be the snake then, what with the tempting people and bein’ evil and all.”

“They were symbols of wisdom and healing first,” the shurl said with a smirk that rivaled Spike’s own, and Xander realized she was teasing him about being a little less than evil. Xander slipped off the table and knelt as Spike stood up. Xander suddenly found himself wondering if Spike would have become typical vampire concerned about little more than feeding and shagging if Angelus hadn’t broken him and allowed all those William-shaped human bits to remain, even as Spike became the demon his sire demanded. Spike handed over the money, and Xander decided that the answer didn’t really matter because Spike was Spike, and he belonged to Spike. Looking down at the hawk’s sharp claws clutching the snake, he realized that Spike belonged to him too.

Spike started to walk out, and Xander rose to follow, still enjoying the rhythmic swing of the leash still held in Spike’s hand at one end and clipped to his collar on the other. The shurl’s voice followed them as they returned to the main corridor even more crowded with demons of various sizes and shapes.

“But hawks must have talons, vampire, remember that,” she shouted as she came to stand at the entrance to her booth.

“I bloody knew that already,” Spike barely whispered, but Xander could still hear her laugh in response behind him. With the leash in place, Xander felt more confident, and his near nudity and his decorated body encouraged him to show off just a little as Spike drove a wedge through the crowd by storming through without regard to who he offended. Xander expected they would now return to their room, which Spike had said would be a windowless suite on the third floor, but Spike led them deeper in until they reached a shop with familiar hobbles and leather and chains hanging in the front, and Xander decided that when he found slave auctions familiar he really did have problems. However, he wasn’t at all surprised as he knelt next to Spike to see the thick legs of the blacksmith.

“Look here, back on a leash again?” the blacksmith asked in an amused, booming voice. Of course his voice always boomed, but the amusement was rather new. “If he needs some re-training, Leshar’s here.” Xander knelt silently and focused on not showing the revulsion he felt at his trainer’s name, especially since that trainer would certainly consider him in need of retraining.

“Not likely. He’s trained well enough, but had a bit of a tight spot and I just want to make sure I keep him by my side.”

“Ah, Lirowaus,” the blacksmith said knowingly. “He normally doesn’t come to the sales, and he actually sent stock for the first time in years. However, I suspect that he only signed up to come in order to display his new slave in the show.” Xander focused on the blacksmith’s finely carved leather shoes as something to entertain his mind, so he almost missed the comment. The thought of performing in a show for Lirowaus sent a shiver down Xander’s back that he couldn’t control.

“So will you display him?” the blacksmith asked.

“Give it some thought,” Spike said, and Xander hoped the noncommittal answer actually meant ‘no’ even though he’d do his best if Spike wanted to sign him up. “Right now I thought I’d come for some merchandise I saw here last time.”

“We do have a wide range. I know you haven’t bought any gags or head gear, would that interest you?”

“Bloody hell no,” Spike snapped, and Xander watched the blacksmith’s feet retreat a step and shuffle once or twice. “Pettin’ him is a good part of the pleasure, and I don’t want things strapped around his head.” Xander felt a hand ruffle his curls and he held form even as he enjoyed the touch. “Besides I had somethin’ specific in mind. I saw last time you had a solluna knife set.”

“Oh yes, you are a man who knows quality merchandise.” The blacksmith shuffled away and soon the feet returned to Xander’s line of sight, but the actual merchandise being discussed was too high for him to see.

“That genuine?” Spike asked.

“Made by Gunsha himself, silver-edged curved blade on the luna knife with F’yarl inscriptions that curse your enemies’ entrails. The second is an iron-edged sol knife—straight blade with Rikad blessings on your knife arm.”

Xander wished he could see the blades, but he couldn’t even follow the rest of the conversation since Spike started speaking in a demon language and the blacksmith replied in that same tongue. Xander noticed that Spike had done that several times now, but he figured that Spike would fill him in once they reached their room. Right now he just knelt at Spike’s side and took advantage of his lowered gaze to stare at the tattoo.

The coloring on the bird was so remarkable that he could see each detail, the sun reflecting off individual feathers, the fierce gaze of the hawk, the talons stretching out and holding the snake’s tail. The silver chain lay on the dark feathers but didn’t ruffle them at all, even in mid-flight. The bird looked so formidable that Xander had trouble believing that somewhere inside he had this strength, but Spike had told him that shurls never compromised their vision.

“Stand up, pet.” Spike’s words brought him out of his haze and he gracefully rose to his feet. Before he could really get into position, he found Spike’s leg between his, pushing his feet apart, and Xander obligingly spread his legs while still keeping his gaze down. That position allowed Xander to watch as Spike fastened a leather sheath to his left leg, straps and buckles wrapping around his leg just below the hip and then again mid thigh. Then a curved and carved silver blade appeared in his vision.

“What does silver kill?” Spike demanded. Xander thought back to the time they’d stayed at Joyce’s house. Spike had taught him more about demon hunting in a couple of days than Giles had taught him in four years. Well, either that or his time as a slave had helped him learn how to listen better so that he actually listened when Spike talked as opposed to all those times that he had ignored Giles. Xander contemplated the implications for public schools. Install a Leshar type demon to administer discipline, and the students would suddenly discover a passion for learning never seen before. Xander flashed on an image of Larry in a cage as Principal Snyder lectured him on respect with Leshar in the background. Anyway, Xander knew the answer.

“Werewolves, Slod demon and Kungai if you strike the eyes, Master.” Xander felt the approving hand at his head at the same time that he heard the sputtering of the blacksmith.

“You cannot mean to allow a slave…”

“Oi, my slave; I’ll bloody allow whatever I want.”

“But he was a vampire hunter,” the blacksmith loudly protested, and Xander wondered if the demon would be comforted by the story of him falling on a vampire or of him being tossed like a rag doll by a newly risen fledge. Yep, he really hadn’t been much of a vampire hunter before, but under Spike’s instruction, he had developed a couple of nice moves. Xander hoped that the gift of the knife meant that Spike would teach him more. Maybe Spike would even teach him enough to make the shurl’s tattoo believable because right now he didn’t feel much like a fierce hawk.

Something brushed his right thigh, and Xander looked down to see Spike attaching a second sheath high on his leg; this one ran straight down his leg. Spike held a dull grey blade with dot-like inscriptions down the center of the blade.

“What do ya use an iron blade for?”

“Polgara demons and Goran if you then keep the head away from the rest of the clan,” Xander immediately answered. He knew that there were probably other demons as well, but he knew very little about killing demons other than what Spike had taught him in two days. The hand continued to pet him, and he knew he had gotten the answer right

“Vampire, you are not one to worry about others’ impressions,” the blacksmith said, and Spike just snorted. “And you must have great faith in your training to trust him with such things.”

“Trust him more than anyone else in my life, so the next demon that tries ta take my pet might have a surprise,” Spike said in a cruel tone, and Xander wondered if that meant what he thought it meant. “Pet, if any of these wankers try to take you, I want you to bloody gut them, got it?” Yep, that’s exactly what Spike meant, and Xander realized that by giving the order in front of the blacksmith, within an hour most of the slavers would know about it.

“Yes, Master,” Xander answered happily and then Spike swept out of the booth, and Xander followed before the leash could draw taut.

Walking through the crowds, Xander wondered what others saw. His black arm cuffs with their trailing laces reminded him to keep his arms still as he followed behind the only vampire slaver. He had the black mage collar with the matching decorations, the red stones on his back hanging off the lowest point of the draped chains, and the three stones hung down his front off the single chain, and as he walked he kept these steady even while swinging his hips to make the delicate chains rhythmically bounce off his legs in time with his gait, small red stones winking on the end of each hip chain. His long leash physically tied him to his Master, but he stayed close enough at heel to make the connection unnecessary for anything other than his own mental health. And now, added to these symbols of a pampered slave were two scabbards in black leather with silver etching, each containing a deadly knife designed to kill demons. Add in one very colorful, flashy shurl tattoo and he had to think that people were noticing.

Xander followed Spike past a number of booths and into the area where the slave shows attracted large crowds. Xander had heard Leshar and the others at the brothel discussing the shows and how much more valuable slaves were once they had won a few titles. Considering that valuable slaves got bred more often, a task Xander abhorred, he had always hoped to avoid these displays of slave training. Xander kept close to Spike even while he watched a ribboned girl slave walk the circle while trying to keep the perfect gait to make the lower ribbons dance while keeping her upper ribbons stationary. Xander could see she was never going to make it because she had a look of utter concentration: Xander knew that keeping the gait was a matter of getting into the swing and letting go. Xander just hoped that the blond girl didn’t have a master that would beat her when that concentration broke.

Spike wound his way through the crowd, and Xander followed, his eyes focused on the floor in front of him, so when Spike stopped, Xander went to his knees without even wondering the cause of their sudden stoppage right in the middle of the walkway. He did briefly hope no one tripped on him again, but then concerns about his own safety from clumsy demons disappeared as Spike’s hand caught him under the chin and lifted his head.

The red hair caught his attention first. Unfortunately that red hair also drew his attention to the second most noticeable feature: a bridle. Willow knelt naked on a bench, her mouth held open by a bit, and each end of the bit ending in a circle. A strap attached to the circle on either end and then around the back of her head holding it in place, a second strap attached to either circle and then went under her chin, and a strap attached to either circle extended in front of Willow like a pair of reins, and these reins where tied off to a bar high enough that Willow’s head was tilted up slightly so that she looked over the heads of the crowd. He guessed that her arms were tied because her feet were, and from the considerable drool slowly winding its way down her body like a slow moving worm, she must have been there for a while. When he could pull his eyes away, he saw Tara kneeling next to her in exactly the same position.

The girls had attracted quite a crowd, and Xander even thought he saw Ulsha and Ty near the girls although he couldn’t be sure. Spike started walking again, and Xander stood and followed despite an overwhelming urge to rush in there. He was doubly grateful for the leash that reminded him that not all things were possible. If he rushed in now he’d just screw everything up again, and so he reminded himself to trust Spike and follow Spike’s lead. Of course, if he had a chance to use his bright new pretties…. Xander’s thoughts wandered into a mental playground full of gutted monsters and decapitated Kailiff demons.

He hated that the girls were suffering. He’d been in those bits often enough to know how they hurt, and his guts twisted at the thought. First your jaw started aching from being open so long, and you would try to ease that by flexing the jaw muscles, biting down on the bit, but the metal bit would just make the teeth start to ache which would make the jaw ache even more, and it turned into a cycle of self induced pain and muscle spasms, and he longed to rip the thing off Willow’s head. Wearing that gear, she certainly wouldn’t be casting any spells.

Xander followed at heel back to the elevators, and he leaned as hard as he dare against his Master’s leg to ask for permission to speak. The only thing he gained was a comment from a Pylean that Spike had an affectionate bull. While being called a bull was actually slightly less offensive than being called an animal, Xander decided to simply wait until they were in their room.

They rode up the elevator, and Xander meekly trailed down a hall that obviously only catered to demons because here the slaves were naked and several were only partially trained as their masters dragged them to private rooms. Xander’s stomach knotted even more tightly as he thought about what was happening in those private rooms.

Finally Spike led them to a room where he swiped the card to open the door to a suite far more luxurious than their previous two auctions. Of course, all the accommodations were far better. Once the door closed behind them, Xander knelt next to the door.

“Master?” he asked, trying to organize his thoughts so that he didn’t sound accusatory.

“Yeah, pet?” Spike dropped the leash to the floor and threw his duster. Xander got up to retrieve the coat from the floor and lay it across an upholstered chair with big yellow Hawaiian flowers on a puke green background. And still it was better than the rooms at the other two auctions. Spike had left the front room to go into the bedroom, and Xander followed, going to his knees inside the bedroom door as he gathered his thoughts before speaking, an action that really told him how much he had changed from his Droopy Harris days.

“Master, why aren’t we staying near the girls?” Nice…not accusatory and very respectful.

“Not all the demons down there like me. One camp thinks I had a right to take out Lirowaus since he took my property. Another is just glad he’s gone because he tended to hoard witches instead of selling and trading like other slavers, but a big group wants me gone, pet. Ulsha and Ty are in that group, and Ulsha now has all Lirowaus’ stock.”

“Ulsha owns the girls,” Xander translated.

“Bloody right, and they soddin’ hate me, so if I’m down there too near for too long…” Spike let his words trail off.

“They’ll know you’re interested and they’ll take the girls out of the auction.” Xander finished. “Master,” he added on at the end as an after thought.

“Right. So I don’t show any interest or bid until the last minute when no one has time ta try and take them away.”

“Can’t you pretend to be interesting in buying another human, Master?”

“Pet, the slavers know I want witches, and those are the only two witches in that area. Can’t take the risk.” Xander understood, he really did, but he also didn’t want to give up on staying near enough to intervene if everything went to hell in a handbasket. Life had just gone to hell to many times lately; he had a gut level feeling that something was about to explode.

“Master, let me enter the show,” Xander finally asked.

“Bloody hell, no.” Spike whirled around in full game face, and Xander would have retreated if he wasn’t already kneeling with his back to a wall, but then he reminded himself that Spike wouldn’t hurt him…well, not unless he needed it anyway.

“I’m sorry, Master,” Xander quickly responded, and Spike practically threw himself to his knees next to Xander.

“Not you I’m angry with, pet. I just don’t want them near you, and if you’re showing, I can’t keep them away from ya.”

“I know, Master, and I don’t want to do most of the shows, but the endurance show is near enough to the girls for you to be able to see all three of us,” Xander suggested in a whisper. He didn’t want to make Spike angry, but he wouldn’t just forget it either.

“Xander, you don’t soddin’ have to do this, we’ll buy them at the witch auction in three days, and then I’ll take the lot of you home.”

“And if something happens? What if we’re up here when Ulsha makes a private sale?” Xander demanded in a stronger tone. He was right and he knew it this time.

“Then we’ll bloody track them down again, but I don’t want to risk you.”

“I’m the hawk, Master. I won’t let them take me away again.” Xander looked up into Spike’s yellow eyes and touched the demon’s cheek. “Please, Master.”

“Bloody hell, if they harm one hair on you, I’ll rip that auction apart even if it means we have to look for the girls for the next twenty years.” Spike dropped back into his human features, and Xander shivered as he felt the flesh transform under his fingers.

“I can do this Master, and I’ll do it well.”

“Don’t bloody care if you do all that slave rot well, you do the things I want ya to do, and I couldn’t care less about their show.”

“But I’ll do well, Master. I’ll do well and we’ll stay down there to watch the girls.”

“Given your track record with these demons, I think I’ll be watching you,” Spike said in a clear complaint, but he headed out and grabbed his coat. Xander picked up his trailing leash and handed it to Spike who wrapped it around his fist before heading back out the door. Xander wished he could ignore the feeling that something bad was coming even as he tried to ignore the fact that his tattoo was starting to itch.