Broken (AKA Beautiful Broken)

*

The comfortable position and the vibration of the car quickly put Xander into a half-sleep state where he stayed awake only enough to hold position and keep an ear open for commands. He didn’t even move when Spike reached into the back seat and pulled a blanket up, tossing into over Xander’s body, and soon Xander understood why as they entered more heavily trafficked areas.

He listened to the sound of traffic, his forehead on the seat, and tried to guess what type of car made each sound. It was strange the things he had never noticed before that he only now appreciated after being away. He’d always thought of traffic as one noise, but now he found himself enthralled by how many different sounds cars could make.

“Ya all right, pet?” Spike asked when the music stopped, and Xander felt the car swerve as the vampire pushed a pile of CD’s around in the corner of his vision.

“Yes, Master.” Before Xander would have kept position and waited, but the chains at his back comforted him, and so he pushed himself up enough to reach out for the cases that had slid away, landing on the floor or on his side of the car. One by one he returned them to the pile by his Master’s hand until he went to put one with a blue cover down.

“Yeah, that’s the one pet, put it in,” Spike ordered, and Xander opened the case, remembering the feel of the plastic popping under his fingers as he had opened his own music. A beat up DeSoto with a top of the line CD player. Why wasn’t he surprised? Xander hit the eject disc button and “No Disc” flashed right before he put the disc in and settled back into position, careful to keep the blanket over his body since the half-painted windows still could allow someone to see enough to call the police and cause trouble.

“Pet?” Spike asked, and Xander waited for a question that actually asked something. It took a couple of seconds for Spike to sigh and start again. “Pet, why don’t you look at me?”

“It’s against the rules, Master,” Xander said calmly—it’s not like he was the stupid one who kept asking essentially the same question over and over. Spike must have turned off the CD player though, so Xander suspected he wanted to have a talk.

“Pet, look at me,” Spike ordered, and Xander turned his head so that his cheek instead of his forehead rested on the bench.

“Can ya change the rules?” Spike asked.

“No, Master.” Xander knew that he had answered the question technically correct, but he also knew that’s not what Spike wanted to know. He struggled with a way to overcome that, but finally decided that some things Spike was going to have to figure out on his own. He just hoped Spike figured it out before getting frustrated enough to sell him.

“But ya changed the rule about staying in heel,” Spike argued, and Xander just blinked up at his master wishing he knew how to spell ‘idiot’ in Morse code. Maybe then he could blink it at his master. Maybe that thought somehow inspired Spike because he suddenly swore and rolled his eyes even as he sent the car swerving again.

“*I* changed the rule about staying in heel,” Spike amended himself and Xander waited for the other piece to now click.

“So, *I* can change rules. Right?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You do know how soddin’ annoyin’ that is, right pet?”

“Yes, Master.” Xander smiled inside even as Spike gave a growl and tugged on a lock of hair, a gesture that was quickly becoming one the vampire’s favorites.

“Okay, what if I order you to talk whenever you want?” Spike asked and then held up a hand to hold off Xander’s response. “No, I’ve been down the bloody ‘want’ road before and I’m not goin’ through that aggravation again. Okay, what if I order you to say what you’re thinking?” Xander stopped breathing for a second, panic nearly overcoming training.

“I would obey, Master,” he said truthfully even while his stomach knotted.

“Okay, I order ya ta always say what ya think,” Spike said triumphantly before looking down into his eyes. Xander moved his gaze to Spike’s leg.

“I think Master is cruel for taking away the one thing that I still have left for myself and it scares me, but I won’t argue because it’s my place to accept Master’s orders. I shouldn’t want to keep things for myself, and I know I earned punishment for thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking,” Xander whispered, as close to crying as he’d been I in a long time.

“Bloody hell,” Spike swore. “I just keep bollocking this up. Xander, I order you to ignore that last order,” Spike said, and Xander started to breathe more easily. “Not what I had in mind, pet.” Xander moved his gaze back up and Spike was pursing his lips.

“I’m just afraid you’re one step from bein’ as loopy as Dru,” Spike finally announced. “Know what I mean?”

“Yes, Master.”

“So, are ya?” Spike asked, and Xander had to really think about that one.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so most days,” Xander explained.

“But some days ya are, like the day I made ya sleep in the closet,” Spike said with another purse of his lips. “Okay, the last order didn’t work so well, so let me try this one. When I ask ya what ya need, not what ya bloody want but what ya need, ya have to tell me what you need to keep from going off that cliff ta the loony bin. That work for you?”

“Yes, Master,” Xander answered, actually grateful for this order. He didn’t have to explain what he wanted, just whatever he needed to not annoy his Master by going totally and irreversibly nuts.

“So, pet. What do you need?” Spike asked, and Xander took his time considering all the possible answers. He shoved a dozen different ideas over into the want column: going back to the man he used to be, erasing the last six months, undoing the whole mentally playing with naked Spike, finding out Buffy had a Dom kink and wanted to keep him, finding himself suddenly able to just stand up talk to someone, feeling safe when he wasn’t at someone’s feet. He took each item and shoved it back into the part of his mind where non-slave thoughts went. When he really thought about it though, there was only one item in the need column, so he finally gave Spike an answer that part of him really didn’t want to admit even to himself, but Master had asked.

“I need a Master,” Xander admitted, knowing it was true but nearly flinching at saying it out loud and making it real. A hand immediately started smoothing his hair away from his face and tracing the edge of his cheek.

“Is it all right if that master cocks everythin’ up from time ta time?” Spike asked.

“Yes, Master,” Xander answered truthfully, and Spike actually smiled. For the rest of the trip Xander watched his master alternately swearing at other drivers and singing along with punk music even as he gently petted Xander nearly to sleep. The drive took hours, but eventually the roads grew quieter and the cars fewer. Spike reached over and flicked off the CD player with one hand and pulled out a cell phone with the other while the car was temporarily left to guide itself. Xander found himself grateful for the deeply ingrained habit of accepting anything from his Master without question because otherwise he would have to say something about Spike’s total and complete inability to drive a car.

“We’re right down the street,” Spike announced into the phone without any niceties.

“Yeah,” he answered the voice on the phone before pausing to listen to a long speech on the other end.

“Know that luv. Goin’ ta worry about that later,” Spike finally replied.

“Yeah, well unless you’re up for the peep show, you might want ta give us a clear shot from the garage to the bedroom.” Ah, Xander figured that Spike was talking to Joyce since the vampire had said that’s who they were going to see first. Spike’s voice suddenly grew irritated with whatever Joyce was saying.

“Bloody hell, I soddin’ well never said that. Nice ta know what ya think of me,” Spike snarled, but he actually sounded more hurt than angry.

“About five minutes or so,” Spike said and then snapped the phone shut without even a goodbye. Wow, Spike seriously needed to learn phone manners, Xander thought as the car slowed slightly before making a series of turns onto residential streets. Eventually the car turned and stopped before Spike turned and started digging through the stuff in the backseat, swearing steadily. He finally sat up with a garage door opener in his hand as he opened the garage and pulled in before closing the door behind them. Curiouser and curiouser Xander thought to himself as he watched. Spike not only had an invite but a garage door opener. Spike opened the door and walked around to open Xander’s before helping Xander out of the car by basically lifting him out. Xander didn’t mind the hobbles, but they did make graceful exits from a car difficult.

Xander stood patiently as Spike loaded his arms with a cage, a box of various gear in the cage, and a couple of blankets that smelled of smoke and stale air. Spike grabbed a bag and then slammed the doors.

“Well, let’s get settled in, pet,” Spike suggested as he opened the door and walked into an unfamiliar kitchen. Xander followed, struggling a little on the steps but able to navigate with caution. In the bedroom, Spike waved toward a corner and Xander put his armload on the floor, pulling everything out of the cage and setting it beside it before going to a kneel.

“Best if we didn’t dangle the bits in front of Joyce,” Spike pointed out like Xander hadn’t thought of that. Xander internally rolled his eyes. “So, hobbles off and pants on would be the first order of business. Stand up, then.” Xander stood and stepped into the middle of the room. Within a minute, Spike had stripped the hobbles and handed him a pair of silky black pants that fell somewhere between slacks and expensive pajama bottoms.

“Clean the hobbles before ya put ‘em with the other stuff,” Spike ordered as Xander pulled on the pants and went back to kneel. He watched as Spike picked up a shirt, looked at it and then tossed it back on the bed with a shrug. He guessed that was his way of deciding that Joyce was going to have harder things to deal with than his chains, and in a way, Xander was glad he got to keep his decorations. Of course, in another way he was horrified and terrified that Joyce was going to see him like this, but he thought as he mentally shrugged, there really wasn’t anything that he could do to change who he had become.

Their unpacking done, Spike opened the door and bellowed down the hall. “We’ll be down in a minute luv. Got all his bits covered and we’re just makin’ a pit stop.” Spike walked out of the room, and Xander rose and followed. “Right, human stuff,” Spike said as he gestured toward a door, and Xander went into the bathroom amused that a vampire that could torture with railroad spikes would get so obviously bothered by bodily functions he had once performed. When he’d finished, Xander walked out and found Spike leaning against the wall. Before he had time to kneel, Spike headed down the steps with Xander at heel.

Xander took a deep breath and prepared to watch his old life and his new one collide.

“Oh thank heavens. He’d been gone so long that I couldn’t believe you’d found him.” Xander heard Joyce’s voice, and a wave of relief washed through him. Until now it didn’t feel real, but now he knew he was home. Spike went to the couch, and Xander knelt by his master’s side, going straight into the Down position since Spike seemed to prefer that to the formal Position kneel. Instead of placing his hands at his knees, he tucked them behind him so he could feel his back chain and remind himself that he didn’t have to fear his trainer’s rules.

“Is he all right?” Joyce asked.

“He’s fine. Just a bit different.” Xander would have snorted at that given half a chance, and the way Spike’s knee nudged him in the arm, he suspected Spike knew it.

“Are you sure I can’t, you know, talk to him?”

“Not really a good idea, luv. He’s had a hard time and might take a while ta get it all figured out in his head.” Ah, so Spike wasn’t going to let Joyce talk to him; that solved a couple of problems. Ever since Spike parked the car he’d lived in dread Spike telling him to mind Joyce only to have her ask some really stupid question like “What happened?” Not only did Xander not want to relive those memories, he really didn’t think Joyce honestly wanted to know.

“Xander, tell Joyce what you’re thinkin’ right now.” Xander mentally groaned, but he obeyed.

“I am hoping you won’t tell me to mind Joyce, Master. I’m afraid she’ll ask me what happened and she wouldn’t like the answer.” The room was silent for a moment.

“Told ya he was still bloody in there. Just had his pieces rearranged a bit.”

“Oh god, he must have been so upset when you told…” Joyce cut off suddenly, obviously some gesture of Spike’s that he couldn’t see with his head down, but the words sent cold fear running through his back. What would he be upset about? What was going on? Where was everyone else? Were they trying to give him space or had something happened?

“Bloody hell, have ta tell him now,” Spike sighed unhappily. Xander resisted the urge to stand up and beat Spike about the head until he started talking. Spike took a deep breath only to not talk for several minutes, and Xander waited in increasing agony.

“Was at the auction lookin’ for Red and Glenda.” Spike said, and Xander felt his stomach curl. They were there? They were slaves? “Told Buffy I’d look for ‘em, and when I saw ya and bought ya, I was afraid you’d open your mouth and tell those gits I worked with the Slayer.” Spike’s voice caught, and Xander could just imagine how difficult it must be for Spike to work with a slayer, so he understood the fact that Spike didn’t want other demons to know. Of course, the whole chip thing still confused him, but maybe Spike would be kind enough to explain before his slave started beating him.

“The Initiative got out of control,” Joyce picked up the story. “Some project took out a lot of the soldiers, and the army sent in teams headed by this new general. We thought they were on our side, but after they shut down this project, the new general started picking up anyone who wasn’t totally human.” Oh god, Xander didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t actually have any friends who were totally normally human. Hell, he wasn’t totally normally human with his soldier and his hyena memories filtering everything. Joyce had stopped now and Xander felt Spike lean against him as he reached over toward her. Xander sneaked a look to find Spike’s hand wrapped around Joyce’s.

“They got me at the Watchers,” Spike now picked up. “Figured I was safe enough there, but they came ta pick up a warlock and got a vampire as a bonus. They got the witches at the store, and tried ta get Anya, but that bint had tricks up her tricks. She took out a van load with some pre-prepared spell and hit the road.” Xander would have smiled at that. His Anya never did let a little thing like common morals or van loads of soldiers get in her way. When he’d finally admitted to her that he loved Buffy and couldn’t hurt her by lying, she’d just dyed her hair blonde and told him that he could love Buffy until he died as long as he didn’t put his penis in Buffy.

“Wankers got a kick out of seeing a vamp work with the slayer, so they had a clever idea and turned off my chip before tossin’ me in with her.” Xander immediately went still. “But I wasn’t goin’ ta kill on their say-so. Told her she had rotten taste in men and made her move over since she was sitting on the only bunk. Xander felt like his heart restarted as his fears proved groundless.

“Eventually the boy toys managed to rile the local demons and they staged a bit of a coup. Got Giles out, not that the wanker appreciates it. Yeah, I’ll tell ya that story later, but let’s leave it at I wouldn’t trust him at my back with a bit of wood.” Spike snorted at his own joke, and Xander waited, fighting down the urge to just demand information.

“He’s so quiet,” Joyce commented. Xander felt a hand at his hair and he just wished Joyce could hear the various questions and curses in his head.

“Yeah, but inside he’s ready ta kill us for not spittin’ it out,” Spike commented with a tug to Xander’s hair. “So by the time I got Giles out of the middle of it, I went back for the witches and they were gone. Some of the demons grabbed the humans and the human half-breeds for themselves. Promised Buffy I’d take care of them, so I will, and I’ll snap the neck of whatever took ‘em.” Xander had trouble breathing at the thought of Willow and Tara going through what he’d endured. Yes, he survived it, but they shouldn’t have to.

“Vamps don’t normally go in for the slave trade, being more the eat and run type demons, so gettin’ an invite was hard, and when I found ya, all I could think was makin’ sure you didn’t make me look so bad I never got into another sale.” Spike’s hand stopped moving, and Xander felt his head tilted back by fingers pulling his hair. He turned his face up to his Master’s and Spike had a serious expression on his face. “Ya made me look soddin’ good—like a regular slave master with his well trained and decorated slave trailing after him. I’ll find doors open now, ‘cause of you, and we’ll find the witches, Xander. We’ll find them and bring them home.” Xander found as he looked into those blue eyes that he couldn’t believe anything else. Spike and Buffy wouldn’t let the girls down, and Xander felt something that came close to pride that he’d helped Spike even unintentionally. The fingers released his hair and he returned to proper form. He hadn’t felt pride over anything more important than swinging hip chains for so long that he didn’t even know how to handle the emotion, so he focused on the need to bring his girls home.

“William, finish the story,” Joyce ordered, and Spike’s hand began to pet him again.

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ there,” he answered defensively. “Buffy and me, the soldiers didn’t get it. They’d send in all sorts of baddies against us and we got ta be good. She was a soddin’ fierce little fighter and always as ready with an insult as a punch. We had a real pattern goin’ and I discovered that when ya got the girl away from college boys and television she was someone I could respect.” Xander almost smiled at the thought of them together, and then his stomach knotted again at the thought of them together. Oh god, that explained why they were at Buffy’s.

Xander felt horror creep up his body as he realized he would be kneeling at Spike’s feet while Spike got to touch Buffy. The thought of being caged and sitting on the dresser while they had sex nearly made his mental shudder a physical one, and Xander struggled to hold on to the fact that he was a slave and he didn’t have a choice. If his Master chose to have him there, he would be there and keep to his training and make his Master look so good that he would get invited to all the sales so they could bring Willow and Tara home.

“Pet,” Xander heard the sadness in his Master’s voice, and he tried to hold on to the belief that had been growing in him that Spike cared something for him. Spike was good to him, so maybe Spike was good to Buffy too. “Pet, they sent in demon after demon. Never gave us a chance ta rest up or feed up; never turned off the lights that made sleepin’ so hard. Slayer had a touch of demon in her bein’ the slayer and all, but she was human and she couldn’t keep going.” Xander’s mind tried to process the information and he continued to reject the picture growing in his head. No, no it wasn’t possible.

“It was a Durslar. He opened her stomach before I had a chance ta do anythin’. She died quick, but I promised her I’d take care of the witches. I owed her that much.” Xander started trembling, not in mind, but in his actual body. He stumbled to his feet, unsteady and unsure what he was even doing, blind in his grief. Buffy dead. Willow and Tara lost and somehow he couldn’t imagine finding them without Buffy and Giles to lead the charge. He stumbled back a step as he found himself swaying in indecision.

“Down.” Xander heard the command and reacted without thought as he fell into position, but then some part of his brain rebelled, forcing him half way to his feet when suddenly he felt as if his mind simply disconnected and he could tell he was falling without actually feeling himself hit the side of Joyce’s couch.

“Pet, down!” The voice demanded, a rap on his head reinforcing the order and Xander’s limbs rearranged themselves without Xander’s participation. He couldn’t survive this—he really couldn’t. For six months he’d lived, he’d held on and fought and he’d kept some small part of his soul because that part had belonged to Buffy. He’d hidden in the memories of the times he’d saved her or she’d saved him. He’d disappeared in his fantasies of surviving only to appear when she most needed him or of her rushing in to kill the demons who had taken him. He thought he had given up hope, but hearing of her death made him realize he had only buried it, and now it was dying. He’d suffered so much that he sometimes couldn’t keep memory and fantasy and reality apart, and now her death somehow threatened all three of them.

He felt strong hands at his shoulders, and he knew he was too late to save her and she would never save him. He opened his mouth to say something, and he found he couldn’t remember how to breathe. He gaped open-mouthed until he felt himself pulled into a lap, a voice he couldn’t resist ordering him to take deep breaths. Then that other part of himself slipped in a thought—the thought that Spike had been there and Spike had held her and Spike had watched her die and Spike had survived after letting her die.

Xander pushed away, pulling up his arm to punch the one who had failed Buffy. It wasn’t his fault he’d walked home after dark unwilling to call for an escort. It wasn’t his fault that his damn stupid ego took him away when she needed him. It was Spike’s fault for not protecting her, but as Xander pulled back his arm, he felt chains slip across his back and he knew he’d failed his Master, dropping his head to the floor and kneeling before his Master as he braced for punishment. All he could hear was the crooning voice shushing him.

“Spike,” Xander whispered. “Master.”

“I’m here, pet. Tell me what ya need.” Xander started to rise only to fall back into a Floor kneel.

“I…” Xander stumbled, “don’t know,” he finally admitted weakly. The only things that would fix this pain were beyond anyone’s reach, even his Master’s.

“I know what ya need; it’s okay, pet.”

Xander felt himself lifted and carried up the stairs, now helplessly out of control, shaking and struggling to regain his self-discipline as his panic at disobeying now vied with his agony at how much he had lost. As long as he had been in his trainer’s care, the Scoobies had existed for him, and now he lost even that illusion. And he hadn’t even lost her to some heroic and destined fight, just a bunch of bigots.

Xander felt himself lowered and hands at his waistband as he struggled to get back to his knees.

“Spread,” the voice commanded, and Xander rolled to his stomach, his arms moving away from his body and his fingers spreading. Hands pulled on his pants, sliding them down his legs and preventing him from going into proper position, but as soon as the fabric cleared his feet, he spread his legs allowing himself to focus on the coming punishment instead of the pain of loss. Hands unhooked his back chains, and Xander worked at holding the perfect position, just focus on holding the perfect position and the punishment wouldn’t last as long. After the cool weight of the chains disappeared, he felt the band around first one arm and then the other loosen before they were slipped down and past his hands, the leather forcing his fingers slightly closer together before pulling free and allowing Xander to return to correct form. Xander heard a metallic click.

“In,” the voice commanded and Xander tried, his body suddenly disjointed, his knees unable to hold his weight. He felt hands at his hips moving him into position, and Xander started sliding back into the cage because the cage was the one thing he couldn’t fight. The case was acceptance. He wiggled backwards, impaling himself without thought and when he felt the ankle bracket trap him in place, he started breathing. Accept—that’s all he had to do. He didn’t make choices; he didn’t have choices; he couldn’t choose wrong. The wrist strap pulled his arms to the top of the cage and then Xander noticed Spike sitting cross legged in front of the cage.

“Who am I pet?” Spike asked in such a serious tone that for a space of a blink Xander honestly believed the vampire didn’t know.

“My Master,” Xander answered quietly. The pain flowed through him like ocean waves cresting and slamming into his soul, but he just had to accept, nothing else was expected.

“Do I need to put the front on?” Spike asked, holding out the t-shaped bar. Xander thought about how much he wanted to scream and cry and swear at Spike and how much he feared making any noise at all. He looked right at Spike as he answered.

“Yes, Master.” Spike brought the bar up as Xander opened his mouth feeling the familiar metal slip into place before the plastic pieces slipped under his top teeth and his jaw. Spike locked the crossbar with a familiar click, and Xander finally let the tears slide down his face. He had hoped for privacy, but Spike sat down leaning against the cage so that Xander felt the familiar leather at his fingertips. Acceptance. He only had to accept.

“She cried for ya, cried more nights than I can count. She used ta show up at the Watcher’s smellin’ all salty.” Spike’s voice had dropped into a half whisper, and Xander let the words wash in, the pain of reality replacing the pain of his lost fantasies. Xander felt a hand brush his hair out of his eyes and wipe his damp cheeks in an oddly maternal gesture. “Red too. Girl wore herself out lookin’ up more locator spells until the Watcher finally took her aside and told her it was hopeless.” Xander allowed a fresh set of tears to flow as he directly broke the rules by reaching through the top bars to clutch at the tiny fragment of Spike’s coat that he could reach.

“They loved ya, and we’re goin to bring Red and Glenda home, pet. We’ll give Buffy her last wish,” the voice continued, but Xander retreated until the voice became a distant comforting droning. Normally Xander withdrew into some happy memory: Buffy’s green bikini or the day they’d faced down hell and graduated: two events Xander never expected to see. Now Xander sought pain, memories of pain strong enough to make him forget the current agony.

He remembered the cold concrete crushing the skin of his kneecaps, the pain of the drying and shrinking leather strings tied around the various parts his body, the incessant itch on his right thigh where the first tie had been placed before Xander had figured out the game, and his Position kneel left him staring at the purpling skin so swollen that the shrinking leather had cut through flesh and muscle, yellow and red trails down his leg, the fluid oozing down and slipping into dozens gouges caused by strings on that leg, some dry and embedded in his flesh, others still wet and simply denting the skin. He remembered the agony of his hand, the finger that had flipped off his trainer cut to the bone by a band of dry leather, the finger black and immobile and smelling of rot, the whole hand mottled and dying from the string at the wrist. He remembered the blood he slipped in as he tried to move from one position to another at his trainer’s command. Not his blood but hers. He remembered going to the Spread position, his forehead sticking to the ground, his eyes trying to not see her twisted form. He remembered, and still the memory couldn’t completely erase the thought of Buffy with her stomach torn open while those bastards watched. He fell asleep and dreamed of soldier’s faces on a torn body as he knelt in military blood. He fell asleep and dreamed of soldier’s faces as they faced his trainer’s leather strings. He fell asleep and dreamed of seeing Riley’s face staring at him from his own cage. He fell asleep still hearing his Master’s voice drone on softly.