Defying the Devil

Xander groaned softly and slowly opened his eyes as he became conscious. Immediately, a nauseous feeling clawed its way up from the pit of his stomach and he suddenly sank to his knees and vomited. There was nothing in the vampire’s belly but his own blood -- the faint echo of heaving and heavy splats on the floor as the red liquid hit the hard ground below. The pain became excruciating, feeling more like acid erupting from his mouth, burning on the inside.

The fledge attempted to place his hands over his mouth to stop the painful heaving. But his hands wouldn’t reach, and the clinking of chains sounded in his ears as he struggled to move. He wobbled on his knees; moving backwards, arms held at his side as he tried to scoot back. His bare knees slid in a small puddle of his own blood, and his body quickly slid forward. The chains clinked, sounds of gurgling and strangled moans filled the room. The fledge’s head and torso were suspended inches above the ground. Held by a collar around his neck, chained to the wall behind him.

His teeth clenched in pain the moment his vulnerable neck hit the steel -- chocking him -- and more blood spilled from his mouth. Xander felt tears stinging his eyes, and he blinked them away quickly before using all his strength to pull himself up. He slowly and carefully backed away from the puddle until his back hit a wall. He felt the chains around his wrists become more loose, and he sighed his relief at having more moving space -- before his stomach clenched and he crouched over once more, vomiting.

When he finished for the second time he wiped the blood from his lips, and curled into himself on the floor. He jerked his arms away from the chains around his body, trying hard not to feel the steel around him. Thinking how he hated being bound like this. Because he recognized this situation all too well. Chains, bleeding, vomit... He looked up with teary eyes and saw nothing. Only a dark void.

Racking sobs began to echo through the dark room, and despite the wounds on the young vampire’s body, he wrapped his arms around his torso, holding himself tight. But it wouldn’t stop his tears, and the added pain of pressure on the stinging cuts along his torso caused extreme discomfort.

“Bad, I’m bad. Nothing. Worthless,” he mumbled to himself as wet streaks continued to glide down his cheeks. Feelings of guilt and despair plagued his thoughts, and he wanted to die. He knew why he was here, put in solitude again. Because he was terrible, a worthless disgrace. The more pain that shot through his body, the more he wanted it to end.

The scene kept playing through his mind over and over. Angelus cutting into him. The fire in his side, the stinging pain as his master smacked the cuts again and again until he was red all over. Then the pain of Master Angelus carving into his chest, burning like nothing he’d ever felt. The immense feeling of loneliness before he passed out.

Why was he so wrong? Why did no one want him? The young vampire hugged himself tighter, eyes clenching tight as tears mixed in with blood creating a salt and tang flavor in his mouth. He remembered a brief moment when he almost thought someone had actually wanted him. Almost feeling that he had a place with someone. Someone who would treat him like he was worth something. Someone who made him feel wanted, and in return whom he wanted as well.
A beautiful someone with platinum blonde hair, bright sapphire eyes, and an adoring smile which Xander wanted to bask in. A being both strong and proud, and in the young vampire’s eyes this being was the most magnificent creature to have ever walked the Earth.

“Sire!” he whimpered. Voice rasp and weak. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good, I promise! Don’t want to be in the dark… want you. I can be a good vampire, a good Childe,” he sobbed loudly. More pain rattling his body with each sentence. He realized that he had muttered these sentences before, but he desperately wanted more than this existence. Desperately wanted Spike. Because Spike made him say it. Spike created this need in him. Xander needed his Sire, and he realized that no amount of words would be able to express his extreme need. But it gave the fledge a bit of comfort to express his wants and needs through words.

“I’ll be yours. Only yours Sire… promise,” Xander barely managed to say -- feeling unable to talk. He felt too weak from blood loss, and too swept up in tears to go on. But he continued pleading silently, thinking of words he wished to scream -- he wanted to plead with Spike to come back. For the blonde to take him away from the dark place, just like Spike had said he would.

Even though Xander knew in his heart that he was worthless, grossly inferior in every way - he wanted to feel like he deserved a Sire like Spike. Then he shook his head in denial because he didn’t want a Sire like Spike. He wanted Spike. Only Spike.

He wanted to tell the blonde vampire that he’d do anything to be the best Childe he could. That he would belong to the blonde vampire in every sense of the word. That he’d do anything in his power to please Spike, because he wanted the Spike to own him. For a Sire to treat him like the most valuable possession imaginable, and in return he would he‘d treat his Sire like a god. He’d be submissive, obedient, and anything else Spike wanted. Anything Spike desired.

“Just want you, Sire,” the fledge mumbled in almost a croaked whisper. Even if it used the rest of his strength he had to call out to Spike. He had to get his Sire to come for him. If not, then he wanted to die. Solitude was far more terrible than anything he could imagine. So bad that he almost ached to have Angelus rip into him again. At least he’d have some purpose.

He allowed himself to be wrapped in despair, never opening his eyes because he imagined he wasn’t in solitude. But rather only asleep, and he’d wake up and find Spike there watching him rest. Or perhaps, maybe he wouldn’t even be a vampire at all.

He groaned again, because if he wished not to be a vampire, then that would probably only enforce the idea that he was an inferior creature. Which would make him unworthy of his Sire.

The time he spent curled up on the floor stretched into forever. Xander almost gave up hope that he’d leave when light entered the room -- he could almost feel it. The fledge opened his eyes slowly, his vision blurred from tears and blood.

A shadowy figure approached, the tapping of shoes on hard ground becoming louder as it came closer. Then it was right beside him, crouching down and studying his face. Xander couldn’t make out who it was, and for a moment almost blurted ‘Sire’.

“Hello,” the figure giggled. The feminine lilt in its voice, so childlike, so familiar. Xander rubbed his shackled hands over his eyes, the hairs on his body rising in a eerie tingle. His vision didn’t improve, but the figure became more clear the closer it came. Still shrouded in shadow, but now he could see a wave of soft hair. The scent on his nose was intoxication. The sweetest scent.

“You made daddy very, very, cross,” it giggled. It’s hand stretched out and rubbed gently against his bruised and bloody face. Xander leaned into the caress. The feel of soft skin on his. Inside he felt his demon react, and before he realized it he was purring softly. Only clued into the fact by the vibrations he felt in his chest.

“Sire,” the fledge mumbled.

The figure smiled, an odd look of confusion on its face. “Is that what I am kitten? I’m your… mom-ma.” It clicked its tongue several times. “Say it with me kitten.” Another tongue click. “Mom-ma. Mom-ma,” it giggled.

When Xander didn’t respond, the figure placed both of it’s hands on either side of his head. It’s thumbs rubbed over his eyes, and as the digits were brought away, Xander could see more clearly. He could make out the lines, the smile, and the long elegant dark hair on the head of his beautiful Sire. But it wasn’t the one who consumed his thoughts. Not the beautiful, blue eyed creature he pined for. But the one who had abandoned him.

Xander tried to drown out all thoughts, and though his real Sire was staring him in the eyes, he tried hard not to pay attention. Too many feelings flowed through him. He was so happy not to be in the dark, so grateful not to be alone. But he felt disoriented, almost lightheaded, because he couldn’t let himself enjoy this. Enjoy Her.

Sire snapped her fingers in front of his face, trying to reestablish eye contact.

“Focus, kitten.”

Xander closed his eyes tight, tears once again flowing slowly down his cheeks, and he shook his head vehemently.

“Oh,” Sire pouted. “Why not?”

The fledge began to whimper. His instincts told him to obey, listen to this Sire and be good for her. But he couldn’t. He had to be a good boy for Spike. But, the vampiress in front of him was his Sire. How could he deny her anything?

Maybe this once, he told himself. He could tell her this once and not speak to her again.
He heard once more the snapping of her fingers. Followed by a whiny, “Why not?”

“Because I’m not allowed to talk to you,” he said quickly. Then sighed mentally, almost proud with himself because he’d been able to say it.

Sire’s fingers brushed across the hair hanging over his brow, pushing the brown locks aside gently. She tilted her head for a moment and leaned in. Pressing her lips against Xander’s forehead. The fledge stiffened, a wave of fear traveling through him.

He loved it when she touched him. Really loved it. Her touch, her presence. His demon couldn’t deny her, but he couldn’t deny Spike either. As much as he adored any attention his true Sire gave him, he imagined it wasn’t her. Only Spike, he told himself. Only his Sire should touch him like this.

The fledge already knew that any moments with his true Sire were fleeting. She’d leave him again, and the pain from her first rejection still remained with him, stinging harshly whenever he thought of it.

Xander wrapped his arms around himself, his lips quivering as he mouthed silent words to himself. Spike, Spike, he chanted. Spike was his Sire. The only one. Spike wouldn’t reject him. Spike wouldn’t tell him that he’d lied, that he wasn’t right and then run off. Spike would take care of him. Spike would be the only one he called Sire, and Spike would be the only one to touch him. Be loyal to your Sire, obey him.

The fledge tried to keep these thoughts fresh in his mind, but the vampiress above him persisted in petting him. Then her fingers brushed across his neck, slightly above the small collar, and the young vampire felt shivers all through his body. Tears began to flow rapidly down his cheeks, her pull over him was too strong and he was close to giving himself over to her touch.

Her index finger then pressed lightly against his nose.

“Stop,” Xander gasped. He opened his eyes and lifted his gaze to meet hers. She didn’t seem too have listened, and her expression became blank as she ran her hands over his face and through his hair. “Please don’t,” the fledge pleaded weakly. “You don’t get to do that… Sire will be mad at me for talking to you… Please,” Xander croaked turning his head to the side. “I can’t be bad anymore. If I am then Sire will never want me.”

The back of Drusilla’s hand ran down Xander’s cheek slowly, traveling over the trembling flesh of the young vampire.

“I’m bored,” she said flatly. The vampiress leaned in, her cheek grazing Xander’s, and she whispered softly in the fledge’s ear. “Would you like to play with me, kitten? I know you’ve wanted to. I already have a knight, but if you’re good, you could be the castle.”

“No,” Xander responded. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to be good, if Spike knew…”

“Shh. Don’t be scared. You tremble like a leaf kitten, so fragile and swaying, and swaying. Pulled apart at the seams like a dolly. Dolly’s don’t like that though. Being pulled apart, because dolly’s have the one owner. Kitten has many. You want an owner kitten?”

Drusilla pulled away, her brown eyes catching Xander’s. The fledge tried not to look, but he felt a pull, and stared mesmerized at her unwavering gaze.

“Kitten wants an owner?”

Xander nodded slowly, tears still leaking from his eyes.

“Ever since you came kitten, no one plays with me. Daddy’s cross with me, my knight has eyes set on another, and it’s your fault. You took up Daddy’s time, took my knight away. S’ that any way to treat your mommy? By taking all her fun away?”

She grabbed the fledge’s chin in one hand and waved her index finger in front of the his face with the other.

“Is it right for you to take things away from your mommy, kitten?” She asked again, her tone absent of feeling. Xander slowly shook his head and Drusilla smiled.

“Good kitten,” she praised and pressed her finger lightly between Xander’s eyes. “Now what should bad kitties get for being bad. Hmm pet? What do bad boys get when they’re mean towards their mommies?”

“I’m not bad,” Xander answered distressed. “Please! Please, stop. I’m not bad, I don’t want to be bad.”

“Shh. No more tears kitten, mommy's thinking.” The vampiress finger traveled down Xander’s nose and was placed over his quivering lips. Silencing him. Drusilla’s finger then began to traced over his face again, her eyes focused and unblinking.

“Please, no more.”

“Shh. Focus on my eyes, kitten. Focus on me. Momma has the answers. Mommy’s gonna find your heart.” Despite her command, Xander wouldn’t have been able to force himself to look away. Her gaze held onto him, stronger than any chain. An unbreakable link.

He felt as though he was melting under her touch. Every inch of flesh she touched felt like it was sizzling, pure heat that made his hair stand on end. Her hand ran over his forehead, leading down and caressing his cheek. All the same movements, over and over. Xander wished for her to stop. Because he ached for her more and more with each second, and he knew she didn’t want him. He knew he was bad.

“That’s right kitten, you’re bad. Taking momma’s boys away. You should know they’re both for momma to play with. Now focus,” her index and middle finger were raised and held under her eyes, “on me.”

Xander stared into her brown orbs, dazed. So beautiful and hypnotizing, it was all he could concentrate on. He didn’t know whether or not he was still crying, but his vision became blurry. Then a bright white light flashed, blinding him. He felt heat, burning hot, and all light; making the room go away.

Then the light faded as fast as it came, and he was shrouded in darkness. Shivers running over his bare flesh.

He felt no chains on his body. No cuts, bruises, or blood. But everywhere it was dark, as if it had swallowed the light and his Sire. He could hear himself screaming, for someone unknown to help him. Save him from this place. But there was no sound other than in his head. Then another flash of light and he was somewhere else entirely.

The scene before him was confusing and baffling. He could see the bedroom, and he saw himself lying on the mattress. Sleeping soundly. He felt detached from the scene, only an observer in a place he had no control over. Then the view widened, and the full extent of the room was revealed.

His heart broke at what he saw.

~*~*~*

Angelus wandered through the factory, lazily toying with the knife in his pocket. A full smile cross his face, and he licked his lips and he caressed the edge weapon. He stopped in front of Drusilla’s room, eyeing for any signs of his Childe. She wasn’t there.

He grumbled, annoyance splayed across his features.

“Dru,” he barked. “Where are you?”

The vampire heard the faint sounds of crying. Annoying sobs coming from the direction of his pet’s solitary room. He walked quickly in the direction of the cries, his teeth clenched and hands wadded into fists at his sides. As he approached he became more annoyed, growling loudly at the sight of the door opened. He’d thought he locked it.

The vampire stood at the doorway, his eyes now wide with anger. Drusilla was crouched over Xander.

“You see now my lovely. You only cause pain. What a bad kitty you are,” the vampiress growled. Her features full demon, and her black painted nails running down the fledge’s face. Welts of blood trailing after.

Angelus growled again, animalistic and furious and the scene before him. Xander’s eyes were hollowed, pure white like pearls. Tears gleaming, almost beautiful and accompanied by the scent of anguish. So intoxicating.

Still, Angelus was furious.

“What the hell is this Dru?!” The elder vampire finally interrupted. His Childe, caught up in her own whimsical trance, did not answer. Angered further, Angelus stormed to her side and roughly snatched one of her hands away from the fledge’s face. He could crush it if he weren’t careful.

“Dru!” he barked.

His Childe broke eye contact with his pet, looking up at him with innocent eyes. Flashing periodically under her long lashes. He flashed his fangs, snarling loud enough that it echoed off the walls.

Xander gasped out loud as the color returned to his eyes. Pupils wide, sorrowing brown, his flesh feeling frigid. Then his head collapsed on his knees. The young vampire held himself tight, now sulking in a mess of tears.

“Stand,” Angelus commanded, yanking Dru off the floor and unto her feet. She gave a small whimper, and her hand reached out to gain balance on Angelus’ shirt. He swatted it away, so she dangled a bit until she could stand on her own.

“What are the rules Dru?!” He said, addressing his Childe as exactly that -- a child.

“Daddy’s toys are for Daddy alone,” she pouted. Meeting his eyes as tears welled up in hers.

Angelus’ hand met her cheek, a smooth gentle caress as he wiped a falling tear from her soft skin. He leaned forward and met her lips in a soft, gentle, kiss.

Then he pulled away licking his lips. “Yes. My toys are mine. So what do we say?”

“Sorry Daddy,” she apologized, licking her own lips. “But… No one plays with me Daddy.” Her head turned to the side, eyes narrowed as she glared at the fledge curled up on the floor. “He took all my fun away,” she growled.

“Don’t look at him Dru,” Angelus said calmly as he gentle pulled Drusilla’s chin to face him. “Now, what did you do to him?”

“I made him see,” she pouted.

“What did you make him see?”

“How bad he was,” she grinned.

Angelus rolled his eyes and sighed, “Go to your room.”

The vampiress nodded and Angelus released her arm. She leaned forward and pecked her Sire on the cheek. “You’re taking the kitten away aren’t you Daddy?”

“Yes Dru, I’m taking him away.”

“Thank you my Angel,” Drusilla smiled widely and kissed Angelus softly on the lips. As they parted she stroked her Sire’s face and muttered, “We’ll play later?” When Angelus nodded she walked out the door, biting her lip and swaying to the tune of the stars in her head.

Angelus looked back as his Childe disappeared, a small smile on his face. Then he turned back and stared at Xander, a sneer on his face at the sight of the fledge crying on the floor. He walked forward and crouched down in front of his toy.
“Look at me, little one,” he said sternly. But the fledge made no attempt to obey the order and went on as if he hadn’t heard it. Angelus growled, “I said look at me!”

When Xander yet again didn’t obey the order, Angelus roughly grabbed a handful of now blood soaked hair and forced his pet to look him in the eyes.

Xander gasped, his demon surfacing to help cope with the pain. He looked into Angelus’ eyes, so blurred and dreadful, he wanted to vomit again. But he felt that wouldn’t be appreciated by his Master, so he whimpered softly as he let his tears fall.

“You know, as much fun as it’s been having you around, it’s time for this to end my little one. You ready to go?”

Xander gave a small nod, “Yes.”

“What,” Angelus said in mock shock. “No, ‘Yes Master‘? These are, our last moments together, the least you could do is indulge me with a ‘Yes Master’.”

Another small nod, “Yes… Master,” the fledge muttered softly, withdrawn in tone.

Angelus’ head tilted to the side, the elder vampire curious at the fledge’s words. “You do realize you’re not coming back. Don’t you?”

“No… Master.”

“You seem more accepting of this than I would have thought. Why?”

“Because, because,” Xander stammered. His eyes closed tight and all he could feel were tears. “Because…”

“Because what?”

“I want to die.”

Angelus released Xander’s chin, allowing the fledge to curl up once again. The elder vampire then reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a small cloth. “This is almost no fun,” he sighed. “You completely ruined this for me. Guess they all break sooner or later. Pity, I had such high hopes for you too. Time you finally became something useful. Time to have a purpose boy,” Angelus sneered, his tone lacking any emotion.

The fledge removed his head from his knees and stared up, vision still blurred beyond the point of caring. He felt Angelus reach for him, separating his arms from his legs and forcing him to open. Xander leaned against the wall, allowing his Master to handle him however he wished. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He wished he could get himself to stop crying, he only wanted it to end.

Angelus wiped his chest of his blood, stinging cuts causing pain to ripple through his body. Xander looked at his Master as he intently wiped the blood away. Handling him like an object. Not a person, or vampire, just an object. He felt hollowed again. So empty inside and he prayed someone would shove something wooden through his heart.

He remembered Angelus words. Purpose. He longed to have that. But, he didn’t deserve it. He only deserved oblivion. He looked at the wall to his side. Parts of the room still swallowed in darkness, only a bit of light. He closed his eyes gently, the smooth glide of liquid on his cheeks, and mouthed the word -- Purpose, he thought longingly.

“Master,” Xander muttered and paused a moment. He didn’t know how to ask his question without it annoying Master Angelus. So he kept his voice low, and as clear as he could. “Do I… Do I have purpose Master?”

Angelus finished wiping his chest, for reasons Xander didn’t know, and looked down at him with a half smile. His fangs seemed to glisten, so menacingly, but seemingly beautiful light in the fledge’s blurry vision.

“Of course, little one. You have purpose, always have.”

“Wh… what is it… Master?”

“Look at your chest.”

Xander looked down, squinting hard as his eyes became tiny slits. There were words carved into his chest. It took him a few moments, but he could make out the first word if he concentrated hard enough. It read ‘From’ in slanted letters. It was upside down from his point of view, like the other word. Each letter merely a few inches long, but thick and easily read. He tried for the second word, and winced when tears started to sting his wounds. The second word read ‘Angel’.

Xander looked up questioningly, not knowing what it meant. Angelus smiled.

“You really don’t know?” Xander didn’t answer and looked at the words again. From Angel. He didn’t understand. Angelus chuckled. “You’re my message. Always have been. And I think it's about time for you to go, you’ve been here far too long.”

Xander looked up in time to see the bottom of Angelus boot before it slammed into his temple. Everything went black.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bright light shining above, swirling in his head. There seemed to be no pain, but his body was sore all over. Groaning, Xander lifted his head slightly and attempted to open his eyes. Finding it hard with crusted blood sealing them shut. He let out a soft grunt and his head fell back, hitting a wooden surface.

The fledge felt so dizzy, wood splintering him as he wriggled on the floor. His hands were bound behind his back, shackled. Legs chained together, hogtied. He wriggled further, trying to break his bindings -- but it was futile.

His tears then broke the crust around his eyes, and he whimpered softly as he looked up at the night sky. His body bare, raw, bleeding on a porch -- he had been abandoned. Yet, he didn’t care.

The moon appeared as a beautiful bright orb in the dark sky. Hopefully it’d go down soon, maybe the sun would show him some mercy.

His surroundings looked familiar, but instead of letting his curious mind wander he gently shut his eyes and waited. The tears stopped, the whimpering halted, and he concentrated on the air breezing across his skin. Surreal and calming.

He felt he would pass out again, and muttered his apology for being so bad. Inferior, wrong. He was deeply sorry for not being good enough for anyone, especially his Sire. He’d let Spike down.

"Oh my God," he heard a faint gasp. Xander’s eyes slowly opened, unable to concentrate on anything except the wide hazel eyes staring down at him.

The fledge muttered, "Buffy," and passed out.

TBC