Puppy Love
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
54
Views:
41,608
Reviews:
119
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
54
Views:
41,608
Reviews:
119
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 4A/50 - Ownership
Pairings: Spander
Appropriate Ratings: NC17 overall but this chapter... R-ish
Warnings: Slavery, nudity, lotta the same from the previous chapter. Nothing much. Xander is underage! (he's 16, almost seventeen) (Set between seasons 2-3)
Disclaimers: Not my characters. I make no money off this, I'm just playing. I promise to give them a bath and thorough cleaning when I’m done! Joss Whedon is my lord and Master. All hail Joss Whedon.
Short Summary: Puppy gets a few lessons...
Beta: Tamakin
A.N. This is in response to the prompt table given to me by hawk_soaring. Thanks bunches again!
A.N. 2 I had to cut this into two parts, it got kinda long... "Ownership" had a lot of nuances I wanted to cover, and I still have a ton more in my noggin that just didn't fit. I hope it's not too disruptive to have to wait a few days for the second part!
Comments keep my muse well fed.
Xander curled up in a tight ball of misery in the lightly padded dog crate he’d been unceremoniously shoved into. The gag had been removed while he sagged unconscious in his bonds, he didn’t remember it, but his jaw still ached in echo of its use. His fingers danced over the fully healed brand, tracing the outline burned into his skin. He was marked, forever. No matter what else happened, he’d forever carry this scar.
He started to cry again, but it quickly broke into almost hysterical laughter. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? When he’d left Sunnydale? He’d wanted to be punished; he’d begged the universe to cleanse him of his sins through pain and humiliation, just like what he’d always gotten at home.
It was almost purifying, the pain. It was a way to pay for what he’d done, pay for the betrayal of his closest friends… and he knew he still had so much more to pay for. He’d lied about Willow’s message, and he’d done it on purpose. He knew what she was up to, what she was trying to do, and with his own anger and insecurities fuelling his hatred, he’d told Buffy to kill him. He’s the one that took away that last hope, he’s the one that made her believe there was no other way, and now… now Sunnydale didn’t have a Slayer anymore. It was his fault, it was always his fault.
When his cousin had called from Cleveland to say he needed some help building the addition to their house, he’d volunteered. His parents didn’t care, they never did. His father had hollered something about not needing to feed him for those two months, and his mother’s shrill voice had demanded he bring home some money to help pay for things around the house. So he’d just left; he hadn’t even packed more than a couple of shirts, one pair of socks, his tooth brush and an extra pair of shoes. They’d caught him at the bus station.
All he remembered about his capture was a girl screaming in an alley. He’d run down to save her, protect her, and it turned out it wasn’t even a girl, just some demons having a good time; they didn’t take kindly to the interruption. He’d woken up later inside a tiny wire dog cage, a sipper bottle of gruel fastened to the side. It was changed daily, and someone cleaned up underneath his cage when he’d been unable to hold back nature’s call anymore. Every morning someone hosed him down, leaving him shivering and damp, but blessedly clean.
They hadn’t even bothered to train him, just sent him telepathic realities of him being dipped into boiling oil, or being eaten alive by thousands of rats, or any other number of horrific images and sensations if he got loud, out of hand, unruly; why bother to mark the flesh and lower the price when their minds could make him believe anything they wanted? Much less effort and mess and no loss of profit this way.
It was what he’d wanted, what he’d begged for… he just never thought he’d get an answer like this…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hours later he heard the heavy clomping of boots in the hall, and he looked up with tear damp eyes as Spike strode into the room as if he owned the whole world, every inch screaming confidence and power. Xander shivered and adverted his gaze.
“No.”
That single word seemed to echo in the room, raised goose bumps along his nude body and made him flinch instinctively. Nonononono, not again, please not again. He curled tightly into himself, head pillowed inside his arms as every muscle tensed in anticipation.
Spike looked down at him, confusion clear on his face. The boy had been ‘trained’ by the Vor’nock for three days straight, he was bound to be shy and jumpy, and it would come in handy. All he’d need was a softer approach, show a little kindness, keep him firmly in line and the boy would make a fantastic slave. The Vor’nock really knew what they were doing with this one. Should send ‘em a thank you card…
Spike cleared his throat, relishing the shiver of fear in response and slowly stalked over to the cage, “I walk in a room, you look at me pup. I’m your Lord and Master now, an’ you have to always know where I am, what I’m doing, what I might need you for. You’ll learn my habits, tastes, desires an’ anticipate ‘em. Only way you’re gonna do that is if you watch me, got it?”
Xander thought this over, and had an initial urge to be contrary, to not give in, to stand up for himself… but he knew who this was, what he was capable of, and besides, if he gave the bleached menace a false sense of security and made him think he was broken… maybe he’d get a chance to escape. Because he wasn’t broken, he wasn’t! They even sold him as unbroken! He was just… bruised around the edges, but he’d be fine as soon as… as soon as…. Well, he’d be fine!
Even though the decision was made and his act was easy enough to fall into, he didn’t dare question how easy it was, it made his skin crawl and temper flare, but he kept it in check. This wasn’t real. He wasn’t really a slave, this was an act, and he’d pretend till he saw a way out of this situation. After all, he was good at pretending, pretending everything was fine, everything was good, that the burns weren’t there, that his parents would notice if he didn’t come home, that his father wasn’t right about him being a worthless piece of trash he wished his mother had swallowed, this was just another act… it would be alright. He forced himself to uncurl from his protective position, trying to swallow down the whimpers of fear clamouring to spill out.
Spike sucked air through his teeth in warning, and Xander’s eyes flew up to Spike’s face in response. His eyes were open painfully wide before he calmed down enough to put on a more relaxed expression. Spike looked down at those warm brown pools of human suffering and couldn’t help the dark chuckle that fell from his lips. Responsive, fearful, and he still has the sweet scent of innocence, what a prize my pup is…
“There’s a good boy. Want to see your face, see every thought an’ emotion dance across it. You will not deny me my pleasure, that clear whelp?” Spike’s voice lowered to a warning tone, and Xander couldn’t help but nod quickly in response, dark brown waves shimmering in the candle light. Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth, drinking in the fear and dread, relishing the aroma’s pouring off the human. “Good boy. Knew you’d learn quick.”
He walked smoothly up to the cage, every inch a predator secure in its surroundings and opened the door, motioning with a flourish for Xander to crawl out. It was so tiny, he had to crawl out backwards, and Spike enjoyed the show, standing back far enough to watch his body move, leaning back slightly to get the full view. He curled his lip at the ungainly gait of his new prize, but shrugged to himself, grace could be taught… with enough positive and negative re-enforcement, anything could be taught to just about anyone.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Xander was seething inwardly at his treatment, at the patronizing tone, but he was hopeful. He wasn't tied or chained, he was in good health, and it seemed Spike was the only one in the room. If he could just have some kind of distraction, he could make a run for it. He wasn't sure where he was, but he was pretty confident they hadn't left the country, so he could find some way to get home.
Home, right, what kind of home did he have? A drunkard father, a mother who couldn't remember that she HAD a son five days out of the week, a failing academic career and a best friend he'd betrayed and another one he'd probably killed. It was the only reason he could think of for Buffy not to be back from that fight, that battle to save the world. She wasn't even supposed to be alive as it was; all the prophecies said she should have died in the tunnels by the Master's hand... this last battle must have been too much. It was his fault, always always his fault.
He moved to stand up but a warning hiss from Spike dropped him back to all fours, wincing when his knees impacted with the thin carpet. Spike sighed inwardly at his awkward movements. He started to schedule training sessions in his head, trying to decide just what he’d need to be taught how to make him the perfect puppy Spike knew him to be capable of. Some grooming, discipline, a few treats and rewards when earned… he’ll be a prize.
"On your knees at all times ‘less you're serving me, or wantin’ to serve." Spike’s lips teased into a smirk just before his tongue curled behind his teeth. He leaned back and looked down into Xander’s warm human eyes. "Did you want to serve me then?" he asked with a teasing low tone.
Xander was shaking his head rapidly, "No… no thanks, I think I'll just stay here and er… keep quiet." His mind was reeling at what Spike could possibly mean by serving him, shying away from the more... nude images. Because that’s just… no.
The smirk never left Spike's lips, even when he back handed Xander across the face. While Xander lay sprawled on the floor, Spike spoke, his voice rising in volume slowly simmered to a boil, “I’ll not be spoken to with such little respect. I’m your Master, your GOD!” He stalked three paces away before turning and snarling out, “You do not so much as take a soddin’ piss without my say so, every damned breath you take is by my leave and grace, understand? You do what I say, when I say it an’ if you don’t watch that tone I’ll see to it you never use it again. Do I make myself crystal bloody clear?” By the end of his tirade, he was quite worked up, icy blue eyes shimmering gold for a handful of panicked heart beats before settling back again.
Xander nodded quickly, eyes locked on Spike’s face. Just an act, that’s all this is, doesn’t matter, I can get out of here, and if I can’t, someone will find me… . He felt his stomach sink when he realized… no one would be looking for him. His family didn’t care, his cousin would just think he wasn’t able to leave because of a boxing match with his dad, Willow thought he was gone for the whole summer and there really wasn’t anyone else who would look for him. He was stuck here until he found a way out on his own…
"I think its high time you started learnin’. Undress me. Shoes first, then my shirt, then the pants." Xander looked up at him with a you have GOT to be kidding me look on his face. Spike frowned down at him and spoke with a clipped tone, "NOW pet. Don't make me repeat myself, you won't like what happens."
Appropriate Ratings: NC17 overall but this chapter... R-ish
Warnings: Slavery, nudity, lotta the same from the previous chapter. Nothing much. Xander is underage! (he's 16, almost seventeen) (Set between seasons 2-3)
Disclaimers: Not my characters. I make no money off this, I'm just playing. I promise to give them a bath and thorough cleaning when I’m done! Joss Whedon is my lord and Master. All hail Joss Whedon.
Short Summary: Puppy gets a few lessons...
Beta: Tamakin
A.N. This is in response to the prompt table given to me by hawk_soaring. Thanks bunches again!
A.N. 2 I had to cut this into two parts, it got kinda long... "Ownership" had a lot of nuances I wanted to cover, and I still have a ton more in my noggin that just didn't fit. I hope it's not too disruptive to have to wait a few days for the second part!
Comments keep my muse well fed.
Xander curled up in a tight ball of misery in the lightly padded dog crate he’d been unceremoniously shoved into. The gag had been removed while he sagged unconscious in his bonds, he didn’t remember it, but his jaw still ached in echo of its use. His fingers danced over the fully healed brand, tracing the outline burned into his skin. He was marked, forever. No matter what else happened, he’d forever carry this scar.
He started to cry again, but it quickly broke into almost hysterical laughter. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? When he’d left Sunnydale? He’d wanted to be punished; he’d begged the universe to cleanse him of his sins through pain and humiliation, just like what he’d always gotten at home.
It was almost purifying, the pain. It was a way to pay for what he’d done, pay for the betrayal of his closest friends… and he knew he still had so much more to pay for. He’d lied about Willow’s message, and he’d done it on purpose. He knew what she was up to, what she was trying to do, and with his own anger and insecurities fuelling his hatred, he’d told Buffy to kill him. He’s the one that took away that last hope, he’s the one that made her believe there was no other way, and now… now Sunnydale didn’t have a Slayer anymore. It was his fault, it was always his fault.
When his cousin had called from Cleveland to say he needed some help building the addition to their house, he’d volunteered. His parents didn’t care, they never did. His father had hollered something about not needing to feed him for those two months, and his mother’s shrill voice had demanded he bring home some money to help pay for things around the house. So he’d just left; he hadn’t even packed more than a couple of shirts, one pair of socks, his tooth brush and an extra pair of shoes. They’d caught him at the bus station.
All he remembered about his capture was a girl screaming in an alley. He’d run down to save her, protect her, and it turned out it wasn’t even a girl, just some demons having a good time; they didn’t take kindly to the interruption. He’d woken up later inside a tiny wire dog cage, a sipper bottle of gruel fastened to the side. It was changed daily, and someone cleaned up underneath his cage when he’d been unable to hold back nature’s call anymore. Every morning someone hosed him down, leaving him shivering and damp, but blessedly clean.
They hadn’t even bothered to train him, just sent him telepathic realities of him being dipped into boiling oil, or being eaten alive by thousands of rats, or any other number of horrific images and sensations if he got loud, out of hand, unruly; why bother to mark the flesh and lower the price when their minds could make him believe anything they wanted? Much less effort and mess and no loss of profit this way.
It was what he’d wanted, what he’d begged for… he just never thought he’d get an answer like this…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hours later he heard the heavy clomping of boots in the hall, and he looked up with tear damp eyes as Spike strode into the room as if he owned the whole world, every inch screaming confidence and power. Xander shivered and adverted his gaze.
“No.”
That single word seemed to echo in the room, raised goose bumps along his nude body and made him flinch instinctively. Nonononono, not again, please not again. He curled tightly into himself, head pillowed inside his arms as every muscle tensed in anticipation.
Spike looked down at him, confusion clear on his face. The boy had been ‘trained’ by the Vor’nock for three days straight, he was bound to be shy and jumpy, and it would come in handy. All he’d need was a softer approach, show a little kindness, keep him firmly in line and the boy would make a fantastic slave. The Vor’nock really knew what they were doing with this one. Should send ‘em a thank you card…
Spike cleared his throat, relishing the shiver of fear in response and slowly stalked over to the cage, “I walk in a room, you look at me pup. I’m your Lord and Master now, an’ you have to always know where I am, what I’m doing, what I might need you for. You’ll learn my habits, tastes, desires an’ anticipate ‘em. Only way you’re gonna do that is if you watch me, got it?”
Xander thought this over, and had an initial urge to be contrary, to not give in, to stand up for himself… but he knew who this was, what he was capable of, and besides, if he gave the bleached menace a false sense of security and made him think he was broken… maybe he’d get a chance to escape. Because he wasn’t broken, he wasn’t! They even sold him as unbroken! He was just… bruised around the edges, but he’d be fine as soon as… as soon as…. Well, he’d be fine!
Even though the decision was made and his act was easy enough to fall into, he didn’t dare question how easy it was, it made his skin crawl and temper flare, but he kept it in check. This wasn’t real. He wasn’t really a slave, this was an act, and he’d pretend till he saw a way out of this situation. After all, he was good at pretending, pretending everything was fine, everything was good, that the burns weren’t there, that his parents would notice if he didn’t come home, that his father wasn’t right about him being a worthless piece of trash he wished his mother had swallowed, this was just another act… it would be alright. He forced himself to uncurl from his protective position, trying to swallow down the whimpers of fear clamouring to spill out.
Spike sucked air through his teeth in warning, and Xander’s eyes flew up to Spike’s face in response. His eyes were open painfully wide before he calmed down enough to put on a more relaxed expression. Spike looked down at those warm brown pools of human suffering and couldn’t help the dark chuckle that fell from his lips. Responsive, fearful, and he still has the sweet scent of innocence, what a prize my pup is…
“There’s a good boy. Want to see your face, see every thought an’ emotion dance across it. You will not deny me my pleasure, that clear whelp?” Spike’s voice lowered to a warning tone, and Xander couldn’t help but nod quickly in response, dark brown waves shimmering in the candle light. Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth, drinking in the fear and dread, relishing the aroma’s pouring off the human. “Good boy. Knew you’d learn quick.”
He walked smoothly up to the cage, every inch a predator secure in its surroundings and opened the door, motioning with a flourish for Xander to crawl out. It was so tiny, he had to crawl out backwards, and Spike enjoyed the show, standing back far enough to watch his body move, leaning back slightly to get the full view. He curled his lip at the ungainly gait of his new prize, but shrugged to himself, grace could be taught… with enough positive and negative re-enforcement, anything could be taught to just about anyone.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Xander was seething inwardly at his treatment, at the patronizing tone, but he was hopeful. He wasn't tied or chained, he was in good health, and it seemed Spike was the only one in the room. If he could just have some kind of distraction, he could make a run for it. He wasn't sure where he was, but he was pretty confident they hadn't left the country, so he could find some way to get home.
Home, right, what kind of home did he have? A drunkard father, a mother who couldn't remember that she HAD a son five days out of the week, a failing academic career and a best friend he'd betrayed and another one he'd probably killed. It was the only reason he could think of for Buffy not to be back from that fight, that battle to save the world. She wasn't even supposed to be alive as it was; all the prophecies said she should have died in the tunnels by the Master's hand... this last battle must have been too much. It was his fault, always always his fault.
He moved to stand up but a warning hiss from Spike dropped him back to all fours, wincing when his knees impacted with the thin carpet. Spike sighed inwardly at his awkward movements. He started to schedule training sessions in his head, trying to decide just what he’d need to be taught how to make him the perfect puppy Spike knew him to be capable of. Some grooming, discipline, a few treats and rewards when earned… he’ll be a prize.
"On your knees at all times ‘less you're serving me, or wantin’ to serve." Spike’s lips teased into a smirk just before his tongue curled behind his teeth. He leaned back and looked down into Xander’s warm human eyes. "Did you want to serve me then?" he asked with a teasing low tone.
Xander was shaking his head rapidly, "No… no thanks, I think I'll just stay here and er… keep quiet." His mind was reeling at what Spike could possibly mean by serving him, shying away from the more... nude images. Because that’s just… no.
The smirk never left Spike's lips, even when he back handed Xander across the face. While Xander lay sprawled on the floor, Spike spoke, his voice rising in volume slowly simmered to a boil, “I’ll not be spoken to with such little respect. I’m your Master, your GOD!” He stalked three paces away before turning and snarling out, “You do not so much as take a soddin’ piss without my say so, every damned breath you take is by my leave and grace, understand? You do what I say, when I say it an’ if you don’t watch that tone I’ll see to it you never use it again. Do I make myself crystal bloody clear?” By the end of his tirade, he was quite worked up, icy blue eyes shimmering gold for a handful of panicked heart beats before settling back again.
Xander nodded quickly, eyes locked on Spike’s face. Just an act, that’s all this is, doesn’t matter, I can get out of here, and if I can’t, someone will find me… . He felt his stomach sink when he realized… no one would be looking for him. His family didn’t care, his cousin would just think he wasn’t able to leave because of a boxing match with his dad, Willow thought he was gone for the whole summer and there really wasn’t anyone else who would look for him. He was stuck here until he found a way out on his own…
"I think its high time you started learnin’. Undress me. Shoes first, then my shirt, then the pants." Xander looked up at him with a you have GOT to be kidding me look on his face. Spike frowned down at him and spoke with a clipped tone, "NOW pet. Don't make me repeat myself, you won't like what happens."