Broken Revenge

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"Right then, before we go in there, we need to have a talk," Spike said. Xander turned in the car seat so that he was angled toward his master. Unfortunately, he didn't take into consideration the new outfit. A strap between his legs attached to a small black pouch that enclosed his cock and balls on one end and to a belt around his waist on the other, and when he turned in the seat he found the skin pinched sharply in the stiff leather. Spike obvious misinterpreted the expression.

"Oi, what's that look for?" he asked, and Xander schooled his face into a more neutral expression.

"Ow… Master," Xander said with an apologetic shrug as he squirmed little more. Xander found himself smiling as Spike rolled his eyes. Xander really did understand Spike's amusement what with the whole surviving Leshar's training only to complain about pinched skin. However, that didn't change the fact that Xander really was glad that his hair had never grown back because that would be more ow-making than he really wanted to deal with.

"Loon," Spike accused him. "So, are ya listening to me now?"

"Yes, Master," Xander agreed as he shifted a little more to try and find a more comfortable position. No matter how he shifted, the edge of the leather strap bit into some piece of sensitive skin so Xander finally gave up and just sat still with his best 'paying attention' expression on his face.

"Not happy about going in there, pet," Spike said as he nodded at the large building. Xander sat in the rental car looking at the enormous two story brick factory and he couldn't exactly claim he was thrilled. He didn't know what scared him more: the idea that they might not find the girl or the idea that they might. Xander flashed on a memory of her eyes, and he feared seeing the fear and accusation in her eyes again.

And he wasn't exactly the poster boy for mental health, so part of him understood Spike's logic, which really was kinda scary considering that neither he nor Spike were really good at the logic parts…. Or the plan parts. Or the not getting their asses kicked parts. But a little piece of his brain still felt like he had raped the girl, and being told by a soulless killer that he shouldn't feel guilty didn't exactly help that. Xander should have been used to his brain not really getting along with itself, but he couldn't help feeling the creepy anyway.

Spike hadn't asked a question; he had just complained, so Xander waited.

"You aren't the same person you were before, pet." Spike said and Xander waited for Spike to say something that wasn't ridiculously obvious. "Ya have to remember that this is an act, pet. Don't let yourself forget that you're a bloody demon hunter," Spike said, and Xander watched as Spike's fingers twitched nervously. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't seen Spike smoke in a long time, but now those long fingers moved as though searching for something to do. Xander idly wondered what Spike did with his hands before cigarettes.

"You understand what I'm saying, then?" Spike asked.

"Yes, Master," Xander answered.

"Pet, I’m looking for a little more than a 'yes.' Need to know you're going to be okay because I don't care if you have fifty soddin' rugrats in there, I won't risk you." Xander froze at that open confession. Blue eyes turned to look at him, and Xander could see the nervousness of those hands reflected in eyes that had flecks of yellow sparking in them like tiny flames.

"I'll be fine, Master. I…" Xander thought for a moment about what was and wasn't true in his own head. "I'm not like their slaves," he finally answered. "I know how to fight back."

"Bloody right. You faced down Angelus. You helped take out another Master's army of vampires without tripping on one of 'em."

"Which is more than Droopy Harris would have been able to do, Master," Xander added.

"Oi. Droopy Harris was so confused and untrained, he was lucky he didn't stake himself," Spike said with a smirk.

"You couldn't kill him," Xander blurted, and then he bit his lip as he turned his eyes back to the brick building outside their rented car.

"And you're right about that," Spike said softly. Xander ducked his head down. For some reason he felt like being right somehow made his blurting even worse, and yeah, chalk one up for the lack of logic on that one. Xander focused his eyes on the dash until he heard Spike sigh. Then he risked a small glance.

"Bloody glad I couldn't," Spike said as he reached over and ruffled Xander's hair gently before tugging on a curl.

"This is just playactin', and having the courage to walk in there knowin' the danger shows how strong you are."

Xander stared back into his Master's eyes calmly. "I have to find her, Master."

"Still the White Knight, so we find the bird and get the hell out. Don't bloody like these people," Spike said briskly as he opened the door. Xander got out on his side and pulled the heavy coat closer around him as the chilled fall air whipped around his face. His breath came out in white plumes and his feet tingled with the cold of the dark asphalt.

Spike had tried arguing for Xander to wear shoes, but Xander knew the coat alone would cause enough raised eyebrows. Hell, arriving at a show walking behind his Master would cause a few raised eyebrows. Well, assuming the demons had eyebrows. It might cause raised eye ridges or raised spines. Or, hey, they could have actual hackles to raise.

Xander knew full well he'd gone on full out panic-babble mode but then he was following Spike into a building full of creatures that saw him as a lower-life form. Of course there was the being weaker and shorter lived and more fragile Xander kinda understood where they were coming from, but it didn't mean he wanted to hang out with them.

He mentally replayed the image of Spike telling Angel off. Spike had called him strong and if everyone else in this old factory thought he was weak and helpless, it didn't matter. Xander flexed his hands inside his coat pockets as he imagined the feeling of Sol and Luna in his hands, the feeling of their blades slicing through demon flesh. Spike banged on a door that came open almost immediately, and Xander slipped to his knees in perfect form. These were demons and he was on demon manners.

"So you're the vampire. Register your animal and get your room assignment at the desk there," Xander kept his eyes properly focused on the ground in front of him, but he recognized the rattling sound of the demon's voice, and he flashed on an image of his beautiful Luna knife slicing through the line of spine along the back of his head. Right. And then the rest of the demons would have him and Spike shoved in a cage in about a second. Xander reminded himself to let go of the anger. Not in the plan.

"Thanks, mate," Spike answered and then he was on the move. Xander rose and followed, the fluid slave gait coming back to him as he stepped onto the tiled floor and felt demon eyes watching him. Somewhere back in his mind, the primitive part of his brain screamed at him to run, but he focused on watching Spike's coat flap as he followed like a proper slave.

"This where I get my room key?" Spike stopped and Xander knelt again.

"Your beast checked in?"

"Plannin' on doin' it after I get my room and have the boy put our things away," Spike answered calmly, but from his place kneeling at Spike's feet, Xander could see one of Spike's legs twitching nervously.

"Gotta check in your animal first. Get him papers and I'll give you your key," the demon said in a bored tone.

"And where do I do that?"

"Doctor's that way," Xander stood and followed as Spike took off again.

"And get him out of those clothes," the demon yelled, and Spike stopped so suddenly that Xander nearly bumped him and had to drop to his knees so close to Spike that his shoulder pressed into Spike's knee.

"Right, off with the coat, pet," Spike ordered, and Xander instantly shrugged it off onto the ground. Xander resisted the urge to trace the figure tattooed into his chest, his bird. Even in the harsh light of the factory it was beautiful, each individual feather was clear as the bird prepared to take off or land, wings stretched up to the sky. The tattoo and the collar were permanent, other decorations had been chosen to impress the local slavers.

Leather armbands were laced around his forearms, the long trailing laces running down the back of his arms. On the front of his collar hung his black chain with three red crystals trailing down his chest and ending just at his belly button. And with the coat off, demons could see his draped back chains with teardrop shaped crystals that were worth more than most slaves at the show. Xander reached down and tried to unobtrusively pull one hip chain out from where it was caught in the folds of the coat, and the red crystal on the end came free just as Spike scooped up the coat and started walking.

Without the coat to muffle the sound, his ankle strap with it's small bell chimed with each step, and he had actually argued against that one, but Spike had insisted. Xander wondered whether Spike liked dressing him up or whether the vampire wanted a way to keep track of Xander in the crowd, but it didn't matter. Spike had wanted it, and now with every step, Xander tinkled. And really, tinkling in public… not his thing.

Xander considered sharing that joke with Spike, but they had reached other desk, and Xander went to his knees properly. Of all the ornaments he wore, though, the auction required pouch annoyed him the most. The tight leather straps and small pouch squeezed uncomfortably, and when Spike reached down and stroked his hair as he talked to the demon, the pouch became even more uncomfortable. The strap continued between his butt cheeks giving him a permanent wedgy, and the strap around his waist made it hard to see the delicate black links of his hip chains.

"Up, pet," Spike ordered, and Xander realized that the petting of the hair and the aching of the cock had distracted him long enough that he had lost track of the conversation.

He rose with a roll of his body that made his hip chains slither around his legs, and Xander hated the fact that the chains sliding over the leather of the harness made an unpleasant scratching noise.

"Right over here," a high-pitched voice said, and Xander kept his gaze down as Spike guided him with a grip on his elbow.

"Does he need to be restrained?" the high-pitched voice asked again, and Xander was guessing Nelka demon. Or Ritome demon. Or Shurl demon. Or he had no idea. The last was a very real possibility.

"No, and don't want him restrained," Spike insisted darkly.

"Then let's just check him out then."

Xander stood, Spike's hand on his elbow keeping him from kneeling, and Xander switched into a proper stance, his legs apart, his hands at the small of his back, his head down. An unfamiliar and hot hand ran down his arm and then unexpectedly pinched the skin right above his elbow.

Xander jumped a little, and then cursed himself out a lot. During Leshar's training he had endured whips without flinching. Focusing himself on the dual images of Spike calling him strong and the girl's green eyes begging him to save her, Xander took control of his body and the examination continued.

A finger went in his mouth, and he obediently opened as it explored.

"He's marked," the voice said suspiciously.

"Yeah, trainer did that before I bought him."

"West Coast slave?"

"Yeah. Got a problem with that?" Spike demanded. Xander focused on keeping his breathing normal, but his body wanted to move to Spike's side when his Master took that tone. The finger in his mouth withdrew and a hand pressed down on his shoulder. Since fighting wasn't an option, Xander submitted and sank to his knees.

"I have a problem with abusing good stock. I'm not some Pylean," the demon said, hissing out the word Pylean like a curse.

"Case you haven't noticed, I'm not soddin' green."

"No. You're just a vampire." If the word Pylean had been a curse, the word vampire was… well, something way bigger than a curse. Way, way bigger. An ubber-curse.

"You're supposed to sign off on him being healthy or not. So just do your bloody job," Spike snarled, and from the slightly leaky sound on the 's' sounds, Xander guessed his Master had gone into game face.

"I don't like you, vampire."

"I'm not thinkin' much of you right now either. So sign off on the bloody paperwork before I start—" Spike's words cut off so suddenly that he risked glancing up, panicked at the thought of something happening to Spike, but his Master simply had an expression of intense concentration as his lips pursed together and then pushed first up and then down, resulting in some pretty strange expressions.

"Right, just do it," Spike finished. Xander felt a warmth spread around his back before something smooth and hot touched him. This time he kept himself from flinching, but as the heat grew, he had remind himself that Spike would protect him. He recognized this heat having felt it a dozen times when Leshar's doctor would heal him. It had been an endless cycle of injury and healing, and he focused his eyes on the tattoo to keep that memory from sucking him under. Eventually the heat ended and the tapping of footsteps told him that the demon had walked away.

"He's healthy," that voice admitted, and Xander could hear the unhappiness in it, which, hey! If she liked humans, she shouldn't be hoping he wasn't fine.

"Paperwork then," Spike snapped, and Xander heard the sound of a pen over paper.

"If at any point he isn't fine, I reserve the right to kick your ass out of the show," the demon bit back, and then the sound of rustling paper.

"Oi, wouldn’t hurt my boy," Spike insisted before he turned. The minute Spike took a step, Xander rose and followed after him. Focusing on his swinging hip chains and keeping his back chains motionless and the tinkling of his damn ankle strap, Xander could just let the other fears slide away.

Following after his Master as Spike got a room key and led him through the mass of demons uncaging their humans and setting up booths, Xander concentrated on the cool slide of metal links across his body and the tickling of the leather laces and the pressure on his cock which was maddening and yet somehow still incredibly pleasurable. He let his body lead him to a plateau where the only thing that existed was his Master and the touch of his Master's toys against his body.

He had reached a place of almost dream walking when a voice slammed him back into reality with shouting demon voices and boxes and crates slamming into the floor and all the other normal sounds of a huge open space filled with construction.

"I thought you would have already turned my sweet boy there," a familiar voice said. Spike stopped in the middle of the corridor, and Xander went to his knees. Part of him wanted to tremble in a combination of fear and rage at hearing that voice, and another part obsessively checked to make sure his form was perfect as he knelt at his Master's side.

"Leshar," Spike growled.