Broken (AKA Beautiful Broken)

***


Xander woke to the sight of Spike puttering around the room. At one point he would have expected himself to wake the minute Spike came in, but he hadn’t slept most of the night. He’d stayed up trying to see if Spike would come back, but the curtains had lightened with diffused sunlight as the morning came. He had waited until his eyes had been heavy with tears and sleep and he had finally fallen asleep when the windows on one side of the room had faded while the windows on the other side had brightened with the late afternoon sun. Now, Xander felt the weariness in his body and for the first time realized that fatigue had been his normal state for so long that he hadn’t even realized how much better he’d felt since Spike bought him. Well, until right now, anyway.

He understood why Spike had stormed out; the vampire thought the cage meant safety, and he could just imagine how angry Spike must be. However, Spike didn’t seem angry; he just puttered around the room reading from a paper and digging in the closet and generally not even reacting to last night’s joyful coupling or last night’s horrible end. By the time Spike noticed him, Xander had almost convinced himself that Spike was punishing him for asking to be put in cage by leaving him in the cage.

"There ya are, pet; thought ya might be sick you're sleepin' so long, but I guess I just wore ya out," Spike commented as he came over to the cage. Spike unlatched the front before taking off the restraints so that Xander could wiggle out, and Xander didn't think he'd ever been so happy to get out of his cage.

He knelt at Spike's feet and tried to stretch sore muscles without being obvious about it. But why should he care? Spike wouldn’t punish him…probably. Would Spike even care if he did stretch? Xander started a more extensive stretch and then aborted it before he could do more than twitch. His head suspected that he could get away with it, but his body—including his stomach—tightened and threatened all out revolt if he even tried. There was just too much fear involved with breaking the training, no matter how much a part of him wanted to. Okay, on to the next problem: how to talk to Spike. Whether or not Spike showed it, Xander knew that he didn’t take rejection well, and he didn’t want to repay Spike’s patience by hurting him. Xander opened his mouth but couldn’t come up with any way to start a conversation. He remembered that at one point words had come easy, too easy. He’d babbled like an idiot…an idiot in heat…in idiot in heat and on speed. Okay, so he’d established that Droopy Harris had a limited success with words, but at least he knew how to start a conversation without kneeling open-mouthed with no words coming out.

“Plannin’ on sayin’ somethin’ or are ya practicin’ ta be a fish come Halloween?” Spike’s words shocked him back to the present. Okay, that was a question, so now he could respond. Xander struggled to form words short enough to not trigger the queasy feeling he got when he talked too much but that would actually say something important.

“I’m sorry, Master.” Xander settled on, kneeling unhappily even as Spike’s hand found his head and tugged a curl in a familiar gesture before ruffling his hair.

“Nothin’ for ya to be sorry about. I wish I’d kept my temper, but seein’ ya in that cage makes me think of how much I want to kill that wanker, Leshar. But ya gave me somethin’ wonderful last night, and I appreciate that.” Spike walked over to the bed and crooked a beckoning finger toward Xander. Rather than stand, Xander knee walked the short distance and went to the Down kneel still facing Spike. Poor enough form to horrify his trainer, but still formal enough to keep him from having an all-out panic attack.

“It isn’t…I didn’t…” Words failed Xander and he was left trying to explain what he himself couldn’t really answer. Spike’s hand left his head, and then Xander felt a hand under his chin lifting his head so that he would make eye contact with those bright, curious eyes of his Master.

“Pet, why *did* you ask for the cage last night? Were you afraid?” Xander struggled with that answer. If he said yes, Spike would make some assumptions that weren’t true. If he said no, he was lying.

“I’m not afraid of you, Master.”

“But you’re afraid of somethin’,” Spike confirmed for him. “Leshar?”

“No, Master,” Xander immediately answered. “You’d break every bone in his body.” Xander wasn’t exaggerating either; he saw Spike’s fury reflected in his face every time the vampire even mentioned Leshar.

“Soddin’ right,” Spike laughed unpleasantly and fell silent as though enjoying some thought. He finally stretched his head first one way and then the other before continuing. “Somethin’ else then. What?” Spike’s question left Xander questioning himself and trying to sort out the training from the Xander thoughts.

“Myself,” Xander almost whispered. Because Spike was hold his chin up, he got to see the shock on the vampire’s face.

“All right, I’ll admit that ya have me on that one, pet. Why are you afraid of yourself?” Xander opened his mouth to explain, but he found himself so utterly without words or explanation that he felt on the edge of tears. God, what was wrong with him, he wondered. He’d never been the type to cry even when the worst happened, so why did he suddenly feel so totally overwhelmed? He felt a hand at his arm, and he followed his Master’s hand guiding him to lean against the bed in front of him and his Master’s leg beside him. Spike pulled him closer, and Xander dared to risk sliding his right arm over Spike’s lap so that he leaned his whole right side against Spike’s legs and found some part of himself wishing that Spike wasn’t wearing jeans and another part of himself doing the whole self-flagellation thing for even thinking that. Ignoring the competing voices, Xander knelt up slightly so that he could put his head down on Spike’s lap as well as drape his right arm over it.

“Why are you afraid of yourself, pet?” Spike asked again, and now one of Xander’s little voices quailed in fear at the realization that he hadn’t answered Spike’s question.

“I can’t keep fighting.” Xander whispered the answer as he looked at Spike’s belly button. He didn’t know why it was so fascinating, but he just couldn’t stop staring at the small pucker.

“What are you fighting, pet?”

“Myself.” He heard a sigh from above.

“What are ya fightin’ about in there?” Spike gave a gentle rap on Xander’s head.

“Giving up.”

“You’re makin’ more sense than Dru, but it’s gettin’ ta be a close call. Just tell me that one of the gits fighting up here,” a quick tug on a lock of hair, “isn’t listenin’ ta the stars.” Xander laughed.

“No, no stars talking to me yet,” he promised.

“So, one side of ya wants ta give up. What does that side want, pet?” Xander thought about his answer for so long that he was sure Spike must have gotten frustrated, but the vampire just sat on the bed and stroked his hair.

“That side just wants to not fight because I’m so tired. I just want to give up and let someone else take over without spending all my energy fighting them inside.” Spike simply nodded knowingly, and Xander wondered how much his broken pieces resembled William’s broken pieces.

“And the other side, what’s it want?”

“It’s afraid that if I stop fighting inside, I won’t have anything at all left. I can’t give up fighting without just plain giving up.”

Spike went still. "Ya don't have ta give anythin' up," Spike said, but Xander knew the truth. His Droopy Harris voice counseled a whole round of babbling about founding fathers and freedom and the constitution and the lack of a right to give up. Another part wanted to just agree with Master, but Xander sorted through all those thoughts to explain himself. After several minutes of silence, he spoke.

"I don't know how to stop fighting, and I'm afraid that if I don't fight, I'll lose the last of me." Xander had to take a deep breath because he had gotten out of the habit of talking and breathing at the same time. It was definitely more than Xander had said all at once in a long time, and Xander realized that he had turned into Oz, which wasn't that bad considering that Oz was kind of cool.

"Ya think I'd take that away from ya?" Spike asked but his voice was curious rather than accusatory. Would Spike take it? He thought he knew the vampire well enough to say no, but he was truly afraid he would give himself away, and he didn't even know how to explain that.

"I've wanted to give up for so long," he settled on.

"And now ya don't know how to stop fightin' without dyin’ inside," Spike summarized, and Xander was amazed that the vampire could explain Xander's mind better than Xander.

"Yes, Master."

"Just because ya stop fightin' the need ta be loved and the need ta be touched doesn't mean that ya give up the right ta fight forever. Ya can't push everyone out forever without turnin' into one mean bastard," Spike commented. Silence ruled the room again, and Xander thought about those words.

"If I found the witches and then decided ta go out and celebrate by killin' a convent full of nuns, one of Angelus' favorite pastimes, would ya go along with me?" Xander looked at Spike sharply, wondering if his Master was somehow testing him, checking his loyalty. Xander gave a truthful answer.

"I don't know, Master."

"Oi, that's the trainin' talkin' now. You'd grab a piece of wood and shove it up my arse," Spike said with a laugh. Xander thought about that and realized that while he probably wouldn't kill Spike, a stake in the ass wasn't out of the question.

"Probably, Master," he responded with a shrug.

"So, if ya stop fightin' yourself and let yourself fall asleep in my arms, will ya care less about those soddin' nuns?" Care less? No, Xander knew that he would hate the blood and death just as much. Do less? Maybe. If he let himself fall in love, and oh my god he had not just thought the "l" word about Spike. Xander sent up a thankful prayer that he had learned to do his babbling in his head. But back to the subject, if he fell in "like" with Spike, he feared he would do less.

"No, Master, but I might not do the right thing anymore."

"Not possible, pet. You were born doin' the right thing, and all the crap that's been loaded on ya since hasn't changed that. If ya learn ta let go of the pain and take some happiness out of life, you're still going ta be the White Knight. 'Course, knowing that means I have ta cut down on the nuns in my diet." Xander snorted. He'd read the Watchers' diaries enough to know that Angelus went for nuns and Spike went for strong usually violent men that would give him a good fight before going down. It was probably the reason why Spike at 120 years had scored two slayers and Angelus at twice that number of years had scored a big zero.

"Tell ya what," Spike said when the silence continued. "Let's take this one step at a time. You tell me somethin' that you've got locked up in there...something that you're fightin' ta keep in because it hurt or because ya want the pain for yourself and then I'll tell you something. That way you can learn to give up a little bit at a time and maybe see that ya won’t be a different person for lettin’ some of the pain out and takin’ some comfort." Xander considered that even as Spike’s hand kept petting him.

He thought about giving Spike something that he could give up easily like the time the client had ripped his guts open much like the way Buffy had died. His trainer had banned the demon and then held back the bleeding with is own magic until the Pockla healer could come to do the major healing. He thought about explaining how the trainer had forced him into the cage that first day when he'd kept telling himself to hold on until Buffy came. In the end, though he had to trust someone to help him out of this pain he couldn’t escape, and Spike seemed to be the only candidate running. Well, Joyce would certainly want to help, but he knew Spike was right about her just damaging him more, and he really didn’t want to think about Giles after all the weird vibage. So, he took a deep breath and decided to share the pain that he truly had kept for himself.

"She was blonde," Xander said. His words made no sense, and even he knew it as he struggled to get his thoughts together, but Spike remained silent, a hand gently petting Xander like usual. "I had fought until my trainer put these leather strings on me." Xander stopped, not even sure how to explain that part.

"Wet?" Spike asked, and Xander nodded, relieved to not have to explain the process. "They did that back during the Opium Wars in China," Spike said all matter-of-fact, and somehow that made it better. "How many?" Spike asked when the silence continued far beyond a normal pause.

"Hundreds," Xander shrugged. That wasn't the hard part; that wasn't the part he was trying to gather his thoughts to even be able to explain. "I was kneeling with them on and trying to ignore the pain because he just kept adding more when I disobeyed. Then the minions brought in a girl." Xander closed his eyes and imagined her face: round cheeks, bright blue eyes, pale lashes and brows that disappeared into her fair skin.

"They freed her legs and she tried running. I didn't even know I'd stood up." Xander struggled to get air into his lungs. "She saw me and ran toward me, cowering behind me." Xander remembered as the trainer stepped up and Xander had moved to block, sidestepping into the trainer's path. "I tried to help," Xander whispered and now he could feel himself start to shake, but Spike only leaned over him, pressing him down into the vampire’s legs even while laying on his back, and Xander gripped Spike’s legs like a drowning man.

"The trainer dragged her out from behind me by her hair. Said he wouldn't have my training ruined because I had developed an attachment to another animal." Xander didn't even have words for the next part, but he continued because now that he had started this, he couldn't keep the memory inside any more. "The trainer ripped her stomach open and dropped her body. He ordered me to kneel in her blood as she still sobbed and twitched." Xander didn't want to admit the next part, but he did. "I obeyed,” he moaned.

"So ya think if ya don't fight every step of the way you'll do it again?" Spike asked.

"I know I'd do it again," Xander said miserably. He couldn't see himself as strong knowing what he'd done and remembering the feel of her warm blood as he’d gone from one position to another in that red lake.

"Ya didn't give up, ya just did what ya had to. If ya hadn't, more would've died and ya know it." Spike reassured him, and Xander felt the small sobs shake his body even though he didn't make a sound.

"Not the worst," Xander said as he buried his head even farther into Spike's leg. "When he put me in the cage that night, he cut off the leather and called the Pockla to fix me, and then he stood by my cage petting me, telling me how perfect I was." Xander took the last knife in his heart and took a deep breath before sharing it with Spike. "I was grateful I was in the cage because I didn't have to push him off and I could just enjoy being petted like the animal he called me." Xander felt the guilt rip through him as he admitted his sins, and he had to appreciate the irony of a soulless demon hugging him as he hid himself in the demon’s lap.

"So ya figure that enjoyin' attention was wrong then so it has ta be wrong all the time," Spike said, and Xander realized that he had felt exactly like that. Every stroke in his hair had reminded him of being in the cage and being soothed by the monster who had killed the girl. “You tried ta help that girl, and there isn’t one human in a thousand that would do that. I saw Angelus take the wet leather ta humans, and most would have killed their own mothers ta get it off, and there you are fightin’ ta help someone. Bloody hell, that’s not a story ta be ashamed of, pet.” Xander listened to the words, but they didn’t sink into his soul, the just fluttered on the surface unable to reach the pain.

"So, do ya think I’m like that, do ya think my touches are dirty and make ya into an animal?" Spike asked as he sat up and the sudden lack of that embrace felt like an incredible loss.

"No, Master," he insisted vehemently.

"Then feeling safe and happy with me isn't like that." Spike pointed out.

"I know, Master," Xander replied unhappily, not sure how to get over a certainty that existed not in his head but in his heart.

"Well, we'll work on that then. Ya gave up some of the pain, and time will come that ya let some comfort take its place. But fair's fair. You told me yours and now I'll tell ya mine." Spike took a deep breath, and Xander was surprised to hear the tremor in even the vampire's breath.

"Buffy didn't die the way I always told Joyce. Couldn't face the slayer's mother knowin' what I did, so I told her how the demon killed her." Xander froze, unwilling to even think about what that statement implied. He'd expected to hear something since Spike had given his word but not this. He didn’t think he was ready to hear this, yet he couldn’t move as he waited for the worst.

"The Dursler, he wasn't kind enough ta rip out her stomach. He got her pinned and he slipped in a claw and started pullin' her insides out through this little hole in her stomach. She screamed like I've never heard a human scream before, and I've got my own history of torturin' humans." Spike took another deep breath, and Xander waited for the explanation, hoping that he wouldn't have to hate Spike when the vampire was done.

"By the time I'd killed the demon chewin' on my leg, she had her intestines hangin' ta the floor and the Durslar was watchin' her writhe. Ripped his effin' head off." Xander stole a quick look, and Spike had gone into game face with a look of pure hatred twisting his features. "Didn't help her none, and we both knew the score. If she'd gone to hospital, they could've cleaned her up and sewed her back together, but the Inititive loved tyin' her down and watchin' her slayer powers heal her--used ta record how long it for her bruises ta fade and her bones ta knit."

Xander tried hard not to be ill. He had suffered, but throughout he had known that he was in the hands of demons who saw him not as a thinking creature but as an animal. But Buffy had been in the hands of humans, and they had done to her the same sorts of inhuman things. He carefully kept his body still as he waited to hear how Buffy had died strapped to some gurney while scientists measured the length of intestines pulled out against the length of time she lived.

"She knew she was done for and she told me that she and I had ta protect the others.” Spike voice took on a tone that existed somewhere between frustration and respect. “Locked in a white room with her soddin’ blood slowly seeping out around her intestines, and all she thought about was saving the witches and that git Giles. She told me that we were the fighters; it was our job." Spike paused, obviously not wanting to tell the rest of the story. "She said we had ta keep up our strength." Xander suddenly understood where the story was going.

"Told me I had ta get my strength back because I was going to have ta be the one ta get the others out. Told me I needed her strength." Xander could picture the scene with Buffy wracked with pain, but the guilt of dying still outweighing that pain as she begged Spike to take the only thing she still had to offer. He could imagine her fear that Spike might not follow through on his promise, her fear that it was too late for the others, the fear that Spike wouldn't survive even with her sacrifice. Xander had time to consider all the possibilities because Spike had gone silent. The vampire slowly slipped back into human features before continuing with a calmer tone of voice.

"Made me promise, made me promise ta get the others out if there was any way to do it. Told me she didn't care if I killed every soldier in the soddin' place if I would just get the others ta safety, and I promised her. I promised her and then I sank my teeth into her neck and took my third slayer. Her blood was so strong and I was so hungry that I got bloody drunk off her, but I kept right on draining her as I felt her heart stop." Spike was silent, and Xander had no words of comfort. He knew the pain of causing another's death, but he didn't know what it was like to kill someone he respected. He knew how Spike liked to touch, and how Buffy needed touch even when she wouldn't admit it. He imagined the two of them on the one bunk quietly touching knees or giving a congratulatory slap on the back after killing a demon.

He felt his own pain vanish under Buffy’s pain and under Spike’s pain and the next time someone tried to tell him Spike was evil, he was going to beat the crap out of them because something evil could never suffer as much as Spike was obviously suffering right now. As a demon he should have bragged to everyone he met about taking a third slayer, and instead he sat in Buffy’s mother’s house and admitted it with shame in his face.

"After she was gone, I made another promise; I promised ta kill every one of those soldier boys and scientists I could find. I remember every one of their scents, and I've tried to track down the ones who got out." A thought rose to Xander's mind.

"Riley?" he asked.

"Begged him, I did.” Flash of game face. “The first time she was hurt bad enough ta take her out and play Frankenstein, I begged him ta go to Angel. Knew my wanker of a sire wouldn't come for me, but he'd have ripped the Initiative apart for the slayer. Riley just walked away. The worst part though is that he wanted ta make the call; he smelled of fear and sour hatred every time he came near and saw some new bruise on her, but he never did anythin' about it." Xander remembered the look on Riley's face when he had turned to dust, and Xander's only regret was that he hadn't had the time or the strength kill Riley the way he'd deserved to die.

Xander looked into Spike's now human features, and he could see the guilt, an expression he hadn't ever seen on Spike before and he suspected that he was looking into the eyes of one of those William fragments.

"Don't tell Joyce," Xander whispered, the audacity of telling his Master what to do vied with the knowledge that Spike needed some reassurance. "Buffy wouldn't want her to know." Xander felt Spike’s muscles slowly loosen as he half lay in the vampire’s lap and he suddenly realized that Spike needed the contact as much as he did, as much as Buffy had once needed it.

"Thought of just runnin' when the Initiative went down, but I'd made her a promise, and chip or no, I'll soddin well put the Scoobies back together if it's the last thing I do."

"*We'll* do it, Master," and Xander suddenly realized that the idea of submitting to Spike didn't scare him nearly as much. In her own way, Buffy had submitted, giving her strength to Spike when she wasn't strong enough to fight on her own any more. She presented the pieces of herself that were left to Spike and trusted him to do the right thing. Like Buffy, he knew he was broken and couldn't go on fighting by himself, and like Buffy, he suddenly knew that if he gave what was left of himself to Spike, he could trust Spike to do the right thing. Of course, if Spike took up nun-eating he would still stake his Master in the ass, but he could worry about that later.

"Yeah we will, pet. We'll get the witches back and then I'll go find Leshar and take out my aggression on him." Xander smiled at the mental picture of Spike using some of his more enthusiastic tortures on Leshar. He doubted that Leshar would hold up as well as he himself had for those six months. Of course, he doubted Leshar would have six months to find out considering Spike's notorious lack of patience. “ ‘Course we won’t convince anyone with those marks of yours, so drink up, pet.” Spike cut the pad of his thumb with a tooth and held out the bleeding digit. If Xander had a choice, he would have rejected the offering, but he reminded himself that he had agreed in this own mind to trust Spike and submit, so he reached out and brought the bleeding thumb to his mouth as he grimaced. The first taste changed all that. Yes, Xander could taste blood with its heavy metal flavor, but the blood was also spicy and zingy—not in taste as much as in feeling, like pop rocks, and Xander suddenly remembered he loved pop rocks.

"Oi, enough blood and enough sap. Get in the bathroom and do your human stuff," Spike gruffly ordered with a slap to Xander's back, and Xander quickly rose and trotted off toward the bathroom already missing the taste. At the door he stopped and looked back; Spike noticed him after just a moment.

"Pet?" Spike asked.

"Can we?" Xander stopped, not sure if he was ready, but unwilling to wait any longer.

"Can we what?" Spike asked with a tilt to his head.

"Can we get rid of it?" Xander asked with a small glance toward the sleeping cage.

"Bloody hell yes. Steamroller, car crusher or sledgehammer, don't matter ta me, but we bloody well will get rid of it," Spike agreed enthusiastically. “And if ya find yourself scared of givin’ up, we can find somethin’ that makes me less nauseous.” Xander had to wonder that a vampire known for torture by railroad stake could be bothered by a cage, but he shrugged and went off to get ready for the day.

Xander returned to the room a half hour later clean and well watered as he sank to his knees in front of his Master. He could feel something shift inside as he waited not with the slave’s indifferent patience but with curiosity. Clothes might mean fighting, and slave chains were quickly, in his mind, becoming associated with sex, but Spike had laid on the bed jeans, a t-shirt and both the red decorative chains.

“Go on then,” Spike said as he gestured toward the jeans, and Xander quickly dressed. Before he could kneel, he felt Spike’s hands at his collar behind him.

“What are they for, pet?” Spike asked.

“Doing what you want me to do and not what the training tells me to do,” Xander replied solemnly.

“And for bein’ strong enough ta fight the trainin’ and do what I want ya ta do,” Spike pointed out and suddenly the chains swung free against his back. “Now are ya sure about the cage?” Spike asked, and Xander had to swallow before he could even nod. God, he was scared of losing that, and how stupid did that make him feel?

“Then this,” Spike held up the long single chain with the three red crystals, “is for letting go of that pain.” Spike fastened it to the front of his collar before tossing him a shirt and walking out without another word. Xander finished dressing and followed Spike down the stairs and settled himself at Spike’s feet for breakfast.

A couple of hours later, Spike brought them back from training at the park. This time, Spike had kept the training to practicing forms, Xander suspected so that the bruises could heal. Xander really had never expected to get such a good master, and considering how he had treated the vampire when he had the power, he was starting to think that he hadn’t always been as good as he liked to consider himself.

They walked in the door and found Joyce waiting in the living room.

“You’re up late, luv,” Spike said.

“Couldn’t sleep. Are you going out to the clubs?” Joyce asked with a weary sigh.

“No, tomorrow. I didn’t realize he’d be so marked up from the trainin’, and I’m trying ta get the slavers ta see me as one of their type, so we’ll wait a day.”

“Slavers don’t beat the slaves?” Joyce asked, clearly confused, but now that Xander thought about it, he’d never been bruised when he was sent to work; bruises were for the training room.

“Oh, they beat ‘em, but they like to show them off as pretty decorations, and marks don’t do that, so a good slaver will brag about breaking a slave without ever leaving a mark on the outside. Of course, most do beat the slaves in private, but they wouldn’t take them out like that.”

“This whole business makes me ill.”

“Me too, luv, and considering I *am* an evil demon, that’s goin’ a ways.”

“So, Trivial Pursuit?” Joyce asked as though the sudden change in topic from human slavery to game board made sense.

“If ya make hot chocolate with the little marshmallows,” Spike wheedled as he went to the couch and sort of sprawled over it. Xander went to his knees.

“I’ll get the hot chocolate, and you can do the popcorn,” Joyce agreed.

“Oi, what’s the use of havin’ a slave if ya have ta make your own popcorn? Xan can manage the popcorn duty and I’ll sit here appreciatin’ bein’ waited on like a Master vampire should be.” Spike and Joyce exchanged some look Xander didn’t understand, and then Spike gave him a slap on the shoulder. “Go on then.”

Xander stood and followed Joyce into the kitchen where she pulled the milk out of the fridge before pointing to a cupboard.

“It’s in there,” she offered as she pulled down three cups before pouring the milk into a pan.

“You know,” she said even as she kept her eyes on the pan. Xander knew because he kept taking quick looks to see whether she would look at him disgusted by his willingness to obey. “Spike sent you in here so we could talk.” Xander *did* know that, but he wasn’t sure about Joyce’s reasons for pointing it out.

“Is being with Spike the right thing for you?” Joyce asked even as she turned around and pinned him with a demanding glare. Suddenly Xander remembered Buffy’s warnings about her mother’s ability to stare anyone into submission. Not that getting him to submit was any great feat these days.

“Yes, it is,” he answered simply, and she seemed to take that answer because she turned back around and returned to stirring the milk as Xander put the popcorn in the microwave. He reached over and snagged the butter knowing how Spike liked to add extra butter on the top even when it was the ultra-greasy movie style popcorn.

“Good,” Joyce finally answered. “Because he was getting so close to giving up that I was afraid I was going to lose him to the sun. When he first came, I checked his room every morning to make sure he was still flesh and bone because he’s the only one who took Buffy’s death as hard as I did, and we’ve gotten used to leaning on each other. Finding you has given him hope I haven’t seen for a long time.” Xander tried to process that information, but it didn’t make sense.

“Xander, do you know when all this happened?” Joyce turned and asked.

“No.”

“About three weeks after you disappeared. They were in that place for two months, and in the three months since that place went down, Spike hasn’t been able to make any headway. He only got into that auction this week because he killed a demon with an invite. He doesn’t have a lot of patience, and until you came, he was quickly losing hope.” Joyce poured chocolate into the pan and Xander pulled the popcorn out of the microwave and dumped it into a bowl before shoving the butter in to melt.

“Know that he needs you, and not just as a way to convince the slavers to let him in their club,” Joyce said as she poured into the mugs and headed out of the kitchen. Xander quickly followed, but in the living room, Joyce ignored him as though she hadn’t just turned his reality inside out. He looked at his Master who leaned back in a posture of insolence and indifference.

Putting the popcorn down, Xander went to his knees at Spike's feet and waited for the vampire to reach for him and three...two... Spike jumped the gun by threading his fingers into his hair and pulling his slave into a lean before Xander had mentally reached "one." Xander settled down with his butt on the floor, trying to get used to the feel of sitting down even as he leaned against Spike's leg and watched Joyce set out the trivial pursuit board. Okay, how weird was this, he wondered as he put an arm around Spike’s leg and rested his head on Spike’s thigh. If life would stay like this, he could handle slavery no problem, he thought as he realized he wasn’t in conflict within himself.

They laid the pieces out efficiently as though this were a common activity.

“So, what did Noxa say?” Spike asked.

“Hard to tell with his accent. Without you to translate, I catch about one in every three words.”

“Oi, he must’ve said something worth repeating.”

“Something about human bodies breaking ridiculously easy.”

“Ya couldn’t understand anythin’ else?” Spike said incredulously.

“Frighteningly enough, I understand him better than most human doctors I’ve had. He says the tumor’s gone and I can go back to work in a week if there’s no more pain.” Xander sat up at that comment.

“It’s all right, pet,” Spike assured him, and Xander let himself sink back into Spike’s thigh even though he looked at Joyce with wide eyes.

“I was having headaches, and Spike said I smelled wrong—which is actually very disturbing—but anyway, my doctors insisted nothing was wrong and gave me some pain medicine for headaches.”

“Wankers,” Spike interjected at this point, and Xander wondered whether the wankers in question were still alive.

“Anyway, Spike took me to a place just outside L.A., a place run by a demon.”

“Best around,” Spike added.

“What he’s not telling you,” Joyce said with an amused and fond expression toward Spike, “is that Noxa is essentially a veterinarian specializing in human pets. He won’t tell me that directly, but trust me, they totally see me as Spike’s pet as opposed to the woman who makes him wash dishes if he leaves blood drying in the mugs.”

“That’s what a soddin’ dishwasher’s for.”

“If you can find a dishwasher capable of handling dry blood, I’ll stop complaining. Until then, you’re the dishwasher when it comes to bloody mugs.”

“Oi, just roll the dice,” Spike growled, and Xander smiled that Joyce had so obviously won the argument, and he also smiled at the image of a master vampire ordered to do dishes by a slayer’s mother. Xander had nearly fallen asleep to the sound of their voices reading questions and complaining about the game, the answers, the way the questions were phrased. Okay, actually Spike was doing most of the complaining, but Joyce certainly held her own as Xander napped on Spike’s thigh, and life was good.

“Should have a demon category!” Spike objected when he missed another Sports & Leisure question.

“Just because you’re getting soundly trounced by a human less than half your age…” Joyce let the sentence dangle.

“Yeah, but you couldn’t tell me the cost of a Suvolte egg or how to defeat the Tor or how to recognize a Polgara.”

“Oh, please, no one can answer those.” Joyce pointed out.

“Willin’ ta bet my pet here can. Do you know a Polgara when ya see one, pet?” Spike asked, and Xander answered from that lazy half-asleep place he’d entered.

“Tough skin, horrible penises that taste like mold.” Xander responded absent-mindedly. Then he realized that Joyce was looking at him in shock and horror, and oh god, he was blaming that temporary loss of vocal control on Droopy Harris bits because he certainly knew better. God, he wasn’t ever going to be safe for decent company, was he? He looked up to see Spike gazing at him with an expression of amusement and concern.

“Sorry, Master,” Xander muttered.

“Ya do know how ta kill the mood, don’t ya?” Spike asked roughly, but the hand ruffling his hair belied the gruffness of the tone.

“Oh, god. I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and do nothing knowing how much he’s suffered.” Joyce dropped the dice on the board and ignored the numbers.

“Ya aren’t doin’ nothin’, luv. I’ll take care of Xander and he’s getting’ better, but he’s always goin’ ta remember what’s happened. Nothing we do now will ever make the past go away, and those memories are just part of him now.” Joyce’s eyes locked onto Xander, and Xander gazed back calmly during Spike’s speech. At the end, Joyce walked over and went to her knees in front of him.

“Xander, I’ve never seen you like this, please tell me you’re still in there and you’re going to be okay.” She sounded ready to cry, and Xander found himself surprised. He had never been close to Buffy’s mom, but now he shoved aside the training and reached out for her hand.

“I’m okay. I’m not the same, but I’m okay,” he managed before the panic started building. She just gripped his hand as she looked into his eyes.

“I just hope you can convince Giles of that,” Joyce said sadly without moving.

“Oi, don’t go bringin’ that git into it,” Spike snarled.

“Can’t help it. Angel called today to say that for $100,000 you had better have brought back both girls and Jimmy Hoffa.” Spike just snorted.

“Wanker.”

“I told him you brought Xander home,” Joyce said quietly, and Xander continued to maintain eye contact with her while she stared at him as though searching for some answer.

“Don’t bloody say it,” Spike warned.

“He said you have until tomorrow night to tell Giles or he’s going to call Giles himself.”

“That bloody inconsiderate Poof. Slack-jawed, over-gelled poncy git. That wanker walked away leavin’ me ta try and fix things, and now he calls and tell me what ta do.” Xander nearly fell as Spike stood up so quickly and violently that Xander had to put a hand down on the floor to keep his balance.

“William,” Joyce said, mother voice coming to the fore as she stood and went to Spike.

“No, I don’t bloody have ta take this.”

“He’s going to find out. If he finds out from some other demon or from seeing the two of you out beating each other senseless with your man-games, it’s going to be worse.”

“It’s going to be bloody messy no matter how it happens,” Spike pointed out as he now leaned against the far wall lighting a cigarette.

“Yeah, it is, but no messier than anything else around here for the last six months.”

“True, luv,” Spike conceded, and Xander suspected that tomorrow they were going to go see Giles, and he would finally find out what had happened between them. From Spike’s expression he wasn’t sure he wanted to go.