Broken Revenge

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Xander followed back to the house silently, trying to gather his thoughts. Okay, Spike was pissed, which might have something to do with the whole nearly getting his neck ventilated, but Xander also knew he’d done well. Droopy Harris never could have killed so many vamps, not when the vamps were decent fighters rather than shell-shocked fledges just crawling out of the grave.

His nerves still felt tight after the adrenaline of the fight, and he wanted to explain himself to Spike, but his Master's rigid back stopped him. Spike slammed open the door so hard that Xander flinched, but Xander just silently closed it carefully behind him before locking it and hurrying up the stairs after Spike who was headed for their room.

"Master," Xander offered quietly once they'd reached their room despite his post fight energy and growing anger at Spike's reaction. His own anger only grew when Spike's response was two sharp taps on the floor with his boot. For half a second Xander thought the taps had just been an accident, a simple scuff of Spike's boot on the ground. Then he felt the fear grip his backbone, the fear that suggested things like running and screaming. Finally Xander realized that he was directly disobeying, and he went into the spread position as ordered.

His arms reached from the dresser to the bed as he lay face down and spread eagled on the floor, forehead resting on the carpet as he tried to even remember the last time Spike had used a punishment position on him. His ass reminded him of a time Spike had not only ordered him into punishment position but followed through with a spanking.

"You bloody little git. You nearly got yourself killed out there," Spike snarled, but Xander remained silent, his fingers splayed against the carpet and his toes pointed as he held proper form. "You are a soddin' human, and you do not bloody heal like a vamp. What's more, if you get killed, you'll fucking die," Spike growled, and now Xander felt the floor vibrate as Spike furiously paced in the space around the bed, each time having to step over one of Xander's arms. He didn't even dare point out the humor in Spike's statement because he didn't think Spike found the situation funny.

"What were you thinking?" Spike finally demanded. Xander considered each word before speaking.

"I was killing enemies, Master."

"You were trying to get yourself killed," Spike countered, and Xander didn't contradict him, not that he would ever contradict his master. "Why the hell did you go after them?"

"I wanted to kill them, Master," Xander answered honestly.

"And did it even occur to you that you might be the one gettin' killed?"

"Yes, Master," Xander bit his tongue and cursed the part of Leshar's training that made the truth jump to his mouth when his Master asked a question. And funnily enough, while he hadn't considered that before, now that he had answered, he knew it was the truth. He knew every time he went out that he faced death, just like he had known it when he followed Buffy. Jesse had proved that. After his answer, the pacing stopped. As the silence grew in the room, Xander wanted to fidget, but he held position as ordered and waited.

"Get into the corner, back to the wall," Spike ordered, and Xander rose to obey. Well, he did after a second's hesitation. He had a right to kill vampires. He had a right to be angry about the fact that demons threatened him and every other human in Sunnydale. He'd been fighting vampires since… well, since before he'd become property. Property, and that's exactly what he was. Xander walked to the corner as he used his tongue to find the slightly raised part of his inner cheek where he'd been tattooed like any other animal. The anger flowed into pain. "Shirt off," Spike snapped, and Xander pulled the fabric over his head.

He had barely even gotten his arms down when hands removed the front decoration. Xander stared sightlessly with his head lowered, a skill he had honed.

"Turn." At Spike's words, Xander turned and faced the wall. He half expected pain, and he got it, just not the form he expected. Quick fingers removed his back decorations before reaching down and unbuckling the soluna knives. Xander remained still as he heard these things being put away in the bedside drawers where Spike normally kept them.

"Xander, tell why you would risk your own life like that," Spike said in a scary quiet voice, and Xander's pain doubled. He remained silent because he didn't have an answer. "Pet?" Spike asked, his voice dark with warning.

"I don’t know, Master."

"Bloody hell. Look at me, pet." Xander turned and looked into angry yellow eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze to the ground. He had never seen Spike so angry, and he had no idea what to say. Then again, he suspected that nothing he said would stop the coming punishment.

"I bloody well can't deal with this right now," Spike finally announced. "Floor." Xander looked up, his anger starting to reassert itself and he caught Spike's eye. Spike's growl reminded Xander of his place and he dropped to the floor, his hands clasped behind his back, his legs folded under him, and his forehead to the ground.

At first Xander thought that Spike was pacing again, but when he reached the far side of the room, he made scraping sounds that Xander didn't recognize. Well, at least he didn't until Spike returned and started placing the coins he'd retrieved from the dresser on Xander's body.

“I’m going to go kill somethin’ and you’ll bloody stay here until I come back from patrol. And while I’m gone, you better come up with some better answers unless you want me to heat your arse.” Spike pressed the cold round disks into his skin like tiny reminders of Spike’s cold anger.

The coins wouldn't move easily on the bare skin, but the two coins balanced on the back of his head meant he couldn't move from his position without having them slide to the floor, and with the coins on the back of his arms, he wouldn't be able to replace them without Spike knowing if he failed.

If.

Xander knew he'd fail. He always failed. Green eyes and long brown hair on an otherwise featureless woman floated in front of his vision. Wasn't that what Willow had implied the night before? Spike slammed out of the room, and Xander listened to the footsteps on the stairs and then finally the front door crashing shut, and he was left in the corner like a child sent to his room. Hell, at least a child had dreams about growing up and being someone; Xander didn't even have that.

Xander could feel his anger grow. He was an adult man for god's sake, and here he was huddled in the corner like… well, like a slave. Xander could feel his muscles tremble and he struggled to stop the motion before a coin slid out of place. God, what the hell was wrong with him that he was not only obeying, but worried about letting Spike down? Spike, who had shoved hot pokers into his own sire and master.

Willow was right, he was weak. At least William had become someone new, someone to be feared and respected, but Xander was still just a broken slave. Weak. The word echoed until Xander couldn’t control the shivering and one of the coins on his head started shifting. Xander tilted his head slightly to stop its progress toward the floor, and now he could hear that Leshar voice that lived in his head snap about position.

But Leshar couldn’t hurt him so why couldn’t he get rid of the Leshar voice? Xander’s trembling increased, and a trail of cold down one arm traced his failure. Failure. Xander surged to his feet in a burst of anger and the coins clattered and bounced against the wall before falling softly to the carpet. Xander froze in horror.

As his legs started trembling, Xander leaned against the wall to keep from falling. Instead he managed a slide down the wall before huddling against it in terror. He reached out and picked up one of the pennies Spike had put on his body, and Xander had an irrational desire to hide the evidence, to pretend that Spike had never put the coins on him and just go back into position. He somehow didn’t think that would work with Spike the way it had worked with Mrs. Padile in seventh grade. “Oh, but I gave you that paper right after class, Mrs. Padile. You were standing by the fish tank when I handed it to you.” He imagined himself trying that with Spike. “Oh, you never put coins on me. I would never do something as incredibly stupid as disobeying you when you’re already royally pissed at me.” Xander suppressed a sob.

Well, it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to get punished anyway. At least now he had a reason for the punishment. At least now when Spike whipped him it would be for disobeying and not because Spike thought he was too weak to take on a couple of fledges. He flicked the penny away from him angrily and listened as it dully pinged against the wall over by the boxes.

Boxes?

Curiosity took Xander over to the new boxes. He was going to get punished anyway, so he might as well amuse himself before Spike came home. Xander found himself digging through boxes of his own life, a life he didn't recognize. The clothing he threw to the side at once, and he didn't even want to know what in his warped mind ever thought green and purple flowers were a fashion statement. The books were mostly westerns and science fictions that he tossed aside with the clothes. When he hit the layer of music, he found himself going through his various CD's one at a time.

The Pasty Cline CD had gotten him through the whole Cordelia issue. He picked up one of his few blues CD's and remembered playing it after Jesse's death. God, the box was like a map of his pain. Well, he hadn't called it the music of pain for nothing. Spotting Hank Williams stuck in the side, he pulled the cracked case out and popped it open to the shiny disc inside. Coins and Master forgotten, he went over and flipped open the CD player and put Spike's disc carefully to the side as he slipped in Hank and hit play.

The twangy voice started singing of a cheatin’ heart, and Xander sat on the edge of the bed remembering the first time he'd heard this. The music was actually Uncle Rory's, but the man had left it with Xander after a binge of depressing music and drinking had led to a small gun accident. Other people had happy memories of uncles with candy in their pockets, but Xander got the fuzzy end of the lollipop where uncles were concerned. His parents had been fighting, and Xander had put in the first disc he could find. The sound of Hank singing on about being lonesome had drowned out his parents' words, or at least most of them. It made it easier for Xander to ignore the fight when his own faults got dragged into their little personal conflicts.

The track changed and now Hank sang about poor Kaw-liga who never got a kiss. After Buffy had shot him down, he'd listened to that one about a thousand times. God, he'd thought his life was over. Xander remembered lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling as the music flowed through him. He remembered that feeling of aching loss. What the hell had he known about pain back then?

Pain wasn't having a girl say no, it was watching a girl scream no at the top of her lungs as a trainer raped her. It was a gagged green-eyed girl who could only beg with her eyes, knowing that it wouldn't help. Xander's heart tightened as a memory crowded in and made his chest seem too small. Green eyes condemned him as fragments, shards surfaced with their sharp edges jabbing his conscience. He shot up and pulled open the player and pulled out the disc. Bringing his hand down on the edge of the dresser, he felt the disc crack.

What the hell did Hank know about being alone when he'd never been caged and silent and totally alone even when other people… other slaves and slavers and demon customers crowded in on every side? Xander grabbed the box and tipped it up and he blindly opened another case and grabbed a disc. This one came down on the corner of the nightstand. Yeah, like losing your girl was pain. These people didn't know pain. They’d never had their flesh burned from their body.

Another disc shattered under his hand, and now he scrambled to collect the cases from the floor. Another disc and now Xander felt the jabbing in his palm, and he stuck the bleeding hand in his mouth as he pried another case open and slammed the CD inside with his free hand. Another. What the hell had he known about pain back then? He’d been a whiny little shit who complained because he parents didn’t love him enough. He brought his hand down on another. Another.

When Xander had a sizable stack of shards around him, he kicked out, scattering the pieces to the edges of the room. What the fuck did these people know about pain? The light from the bedside lamp caught in the reflective surface and Xander fell to his knees at the flash of green. Green eyes flashing hatred and fear. All around him, the mottled reflections trapped him. Everywhere he looked, the discs reflected him back in distorted, surreal forms. One disc picked up the brown of his hair, a slender shard propped against the dresser reflected the black and red of his tattoo, a fat piece showed him a nearly accurate eye. Xander reached out and picked up that piece and pressed it into the carpet until it cracked into two smaller pieces.

Xander breathed heavily and wanted to destroy something else. He wanted to take his knives and go kill. When he was moving, doing, fighting, he could push these things away, but now he was trapped by flashes of color. His knee started aching, and he shifted slightly. He knew pain, from both side he knew pain. Memories of those green eyes came up and Xander felt the tears start. He reached up and wiped them away; he didn't want to cry.

The front door slammed, and Xander realized that he had lost another chunk of time kneeling in the room. He looked around and the true panic started as his brain started ticking off his offenses. The coins scattered in the reflective shards accused him of betraying his Master. Xander stood and realized he had dripped blood on the carpet. A thump from downstairs sent him dashing into the hall, and now the fear rose up so strongly that Xander could taste the bile in his mouth.

"Joyce, that you?" a voice called. His Master's voice called. Xander looked at the stairs and then dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door. He wasn't sure whether he was hiding or just in need of the toilet, and his stomach heaved as if to prove he had a reason to be in the room. Fast footsteps on the stairs, and Xander bent over the toilet as his stomach fought him.

"Pet?" Spike called, and Xander could almost call that voice Spike's concerned voice, but he knew pissed had to be close behind. Spike should be pissed. Green eyes. She should be pissed. She probably was pissed. She wouldn't ever forgive Xander, which was totally okay with him because he so totally didn’t deserve forgiveness.

"Xander?" The doorknob rattled and Xander realized he'd actually locked it. Almost sure he could feel those cold steel loops clamped around his thighs, Xander bent over and started throwing up for real, the heaving turning into good old fashioned worshipping of the porcelain god. A weight hit the door and Xander realized that he was about to get the punishment of his life or possibly death, but after all, he deserved it.

The door burst inward, and Xander scrambled over the edge of the bathtub, instinctively trying to get as far from the invader as possible. He pushed himself against the tile wall, as Spike pinned him with a yellowed gaze.

"Pet?" he said quietly, and Xander slid down the wall and hid his face in his knees. "Xander, come here," Spike ordered, and Xander ignored him, the fear making his legs shake, but he couldn't do it. "Xander," the tone was sharper now, and Xander wanted that, he wanted the pain that would follow disobeying that voice.

Instead, a hand reached down and wound around his neck. Xander didn't move as Spike crawled in the bath and sat awkwardly, pulling Xander toward him. "Xander, tell me what you need," Spike asked and now the circles started on his back, and Xander fought, pulling away from that grip and trying to reach the cold hard wall.

"Xander, you'll obey me. Tell me what you're afraid of." Xander pressed his hands to his eyes, not even sure how to answer that.

"Xander, tell me what you're thinking," Spike tried, and Xander opened his mouth because one thought was filling his whole mind.

"I raped her, oh god, I raped her," he sobbed as the trembling muscles finally gave out and Xander was pulled into Spike's lap.