Broken Revenge

***PLEASE GO TO http://www.litgal.vague-disclaimer.org/ FOR THE EDITED AND CORRECTED COPY***

--Rating---------------------
Dom/sub sex, and explicit, varied, and occationally illogical Dom/sub sex at that.
--Pairing(s)-----------------
Spike/Xander
--Feedback----------------------
Craved, needed like air, big old feedback whore here.
--Author's Notes-------------------
The most up do date version of this story is available at http://www.litgal.vague-disclaimer.org/
--Disclaimer-----------------------
Totally don't own these characters. I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox and not making ANY money at all. So, this and all later chapters are written just for fun.


Xander walked slightly behind Spike through the muggy night air. Even through he wore jeans, he found his hips involuntarily twitching in time with the hip chains he wasn't wearing. Instead the straps holding his precious soluna knives tight against his thighs rubbed a small sore spot on the inside of his upper leg, but Xander ignored that in favor of enjoying in Spike's running commentary on the stupidity of the fledges whose dust Xander could still taste on his tongue.

He subconsciously swung his hips a little more enthusiastically in the post fighting high. He honestly wished Spike would just take him home and they could work the energy off in a game of strip tag, but his Master had given his word to deliver Xander to Willow's house for a visit, which explained why they strode down the sidewalk toward Willow's quiet neighborhood. Then again, most of Sunnydale was pretty quiet for a Hellmouth without a slayer.

He wondered what others saw when the two of them walked down the street. The Master Vampire and his killer pet? Two killers looking for prey? Champions patrolling their territory? Xander remembered when he had been one of the people who ran for safety after dark, although his safety was often the slayer which technically wasn’t all that safe. However now he could image how he looked with his hands inside the light leather coat he wore to hide his knives and stakes and various other weapons.

Demons used to look at him and dismiss him as the trivial, unimportant one, and now when he and Spike confronted some orange slimy demon trying to raise the dead, that demon looked back and forth between them trying to decide who to fear more. Xander smiled. Oh yeah, he was Big Bad, Junior.

"Pet, you gonna be alright with Red, then?" Spike asked interrupting Xander’s little reverie, and Xander wondered why he wouldn't be fine. He hadn't had an episode since two weeks earlier when a red-haired fledge had reminded Xander of a fellow slave who had not taken to Lashar's training nearly as well as Xander had. Xander rolled his head to one side and stretched his neck at the memory, both of the panic attack that had left him trembling in his Master's arms and of the original man's sightless eyes staring up at him from the floor of the training area.

"Yes, Master," he answered without voicing his confusion.

"Right then. Got a few chores to run," Spike said as they started up the walk to the house where Willow and Tara had settled using Spike's money conveniently filtered through Angel. Xander was so startled that he temporarily lost his pace and had to take two large steps to get back to his place just behind and to the left his Master.

Spike was leaving him. Spike had left him in the house four times, but each time Joyce had been there to distract him with stories of Spike before he had returned to Sunnydale, the sad stories of Spike still reeling from the death of the slayer he had loved and the funny stories of Spike tormenting Angel or playing some practical joke on Giles.

Now Spike was going to leave him alone with Willow. Xander honestly wasn't sure how he felt about that. Joyce was part of his new life, his life as Spike's slave, but Willow still looked at him with eyes that searched for the old Xander. However, Spike hadn't asked for his opinion, so he followed silently as he braced himself for sad Willow eyes without having Spike there to deflect the power of the Willow pout.

Spike knocked once on the door, and from the speed at which Willow threw it open, Xander knew she had been standing behind it waiting. Great, she was in on the whole abandon Xander plan too if her near bouncing frame was anything to judge by. So nice of Spike to actually let HIM in on the plan.

"Xander! Spike! Come in," Willow practically sang, and Xander followed Spike into the house and to a living room with bowls of snacks and a stack of movies conveniently waiting.

"Hi, Willow," Xander managed, and Spike reached back so that the vampire's fingertips touched the back of his hand. Xander treasured these little touches that Spike would make more than all the lavish words of praise Leshar had ever offered. Without looking up, Xander knew that Spike would be smiling at him for taking the initiative to speak first, and how sad was it when you counted your success by such tiny baby steps. Right, Big Bad Junior in the graveyard, utter wimp when facing friends. He suspected he still had one or two mental issues to deal with.

Spike sat on the couch, and Xander slid in next to his Master, close enough that their thighs touched, and Spike's hand found the small of his back, slipping up under Xander's shirt.

"How are you guys doing tonight?" Willow asked as she held out a bowl with tiny candy bars. Glancing at Spike out of the corner of his eye, Xander caught the small nod and he reached out for one Hershey bar and then distracted himself with unwrapping and eating the glorious treat as slowly as possible.

"Got us a next of fledges down at the south end cemetery," Spike answered. "Boy took out five or six fledges on his own," he said in a tone that conveyed a pride that Xander had never even heard his parents use. Of course, he had never really given his parents anything to be proud of.

"Five, Master," he replied. His use of "master" made Willow physically flinch back, and Xander dropped his eyes so he didn't have to see the condemnation in her eyes. He knew how pathetic he was, unable to even walk on the streets without his Master to tell him he was doing it right and keep the nightmares away, but he had come to terms with his own broken soul. He just wished Willow and Giles and even Angel could come to terms with it. Joyce never commented, never looked at him with eyes that made him feel weak, but he couldn't live his life hiding in her house.

"Bloody good. Those weren't newly risen fledges even if they were soddin' morons," Spike answered. "They had some strong blood in 'em. We might have a new master wandering around town." Instantly Xander felt Willow's gaze leave him. He looked up to find her gnawing her lip in worry and looking at Spike.

"Problem?"

"Not if I can find him. Only problem then'll be his when I break his neck for moving in on my territory. Might leave him out in the open for the sun to fry, helpless to get away with his neck broken." Xander wondered how he could feel so uncompromisingly safe in the possession of a vampire who was still clearly a monster in many ways, but then Spike looked over at him with concern coloring those blue eyes, and Xander smiled his reassurance. He looked back to Willow who looked a little less than reassured.

"Well maybe Tara and I can do a search spell, look for demonic energy. If this new master vampire has a lair, he might have been in one place long enough for the energies to gather." Xander didn't miss the slight stutter over the word master, and he knew Spike wouldn't have missed it either. Xander really hoped that would be enough to keep his Master from leaving, but Spike stood, his hand landing on Xander's shoulder and pressing down to keep Xander in place.

"Right, you do that, and I have some errands I need to run." At Spike's words, Xander bit down on an urge to follow his Master or beg his Master to take him, too. Anything to avoid that look Willow gave him that was both hopeful and infinitely sad. He didn't want to be looked at like that. However, he sat silent and accepting of his Master's decision. He knew that Spike did what was best for him even if it made him miserable at the time, and if he would eat broccoli on his Master's orders, he would play nice with Willow for him too.

"We'll just be watching some movies," Willow said as Tara now appeared at the door with her arms crossed protectively across her center. Xander breathed a little deeper at the sight of the second witch. Spike stood silent and unmoving with those strong fingers gripping tightly enough that Xander could feel a slight soreness that he actually cherished because it somehow just proved how much Spike didn't want to leave him.

"Right then," Spike finally said before he started for the door so quickly that Xander didn't have time to follow even if he had seriously considered disobeying. The closing of the door sounded entirely too final, and Xander found down the feeling of panic at being without his Master's protection. It was stupid. He was stupid. Willow and Tara wouldn't hurt him any more than... he struggled but he couldn't quite fill in that blank. He couldn't exactly say his parents given how many times they'd ripped him apart with their words. At one point in his life he might have put Giles in there, but the watcher and Angel had hurt him so badly by trying to take him away from Spike that he still felt uncomfortable around either man. They wouldn't hurt him any more than his Master would, he finally settled on.

Looking up at Willow in the silence of the living room he realized he had been internally babbling because Willow had that sad face that she used whenever he did something particularly unDroopyish. Droopy Harris would have done his babbling out loud, but Xander simply didn't do that anymore. Nope, it was all mental babble for him, and why did that suddenly sound not so mentally healthy?

"So, any good movies?" he finally asked. His words got Willow moving at such a speed he suspected she had been drinking way too much caffeine.

"Tara and I went and got all your favorites. I have two different Babylon V movies and Alien Nation and all the Star Treks including that one with the half naked women you like, but then most of those old Star Treks had half naked women and Enemy Mine and the Alien movies, but those might not be a good idea."

Xander listened to the babble and wondered if he had sounded that nervous and afraid back in his babble days. And he didn't even comment on her suggestion he not watch Alien movies as if he was some sort of child prone to nightmares. His nightmares weren't inspired by any movie gore or imaginary monsters.

"Maybe Xander should pick," Tara said as she now came out of the doorway to settle on the couch next to him. Xander smiled his gratitude to the woman whose silences had become even longer since Spike had rescued them from slavery, as opposed to Willow who seemed to have become even more energetic as if smiley faces and bubbly babble could make the past disappear.

"Oh yeah, sometimes you just have to tell me to shut up," Willow agreed with a wide smile. "So you pick, Xander." Xander looked over at the selection with their brightly colored titles. The girls wouldn't want to watch the alien movies; he knew that so he ruled them out right away. The Alien Nation videos really were just extensions of the television show, and he remembered Willow trying to describe the show to a very confused Tara. Buffy had laughed and accused him and Willow of being geeks as Tara had looked on with concern that she had somehow caused a problem. Xander couldn't help smiling a little at that memory that had almost been lost in his maze of a memory.

"Enemy Mine," he answered. Willow's sharp look toward Tara told him he had chosen wrong and he ducked his head and tried to suppress that curl of panic that he felt at others' displeasure. And that made wisps of anger rise at the idea that he had to please others.

Xander pushed down a growing resentment before he involuntarily showed his aggravation. When Spike wanted him to do something, Spike would just tell him. Giving him a choice and then getting unhappy at his choice just seemed unfair, and as much as Xander told himself that he was safe, that little part of his mind where Leshar's voice still echoed told him that he would be punished for doing the wrong thing.

An hour and a half into the movie Xander knew his punishment for choosing wrong and he found his eyes darting toward the door more and more often.

"That is just wrong, enslaving people because they're different. No one should be a slave," Willow said as she made one more comment about slavery. Xander flinched, well aware that she was condemning the racists in the movie, the men who had captured Xander, and Spike who still kept Xander by his side. Xander reached up and fingered the warm metal links of the collar that was magically sealed around his neck. Nothing short of death would take the collar from his neck and nothing short of death would keep him from his Master, Willow guilt included. Tara made a noncommittal noise.

"Slavery destroys people's initiative and drive. If Davidge hadn't come, these people would have just given up. I never realized how sad this movie is." Xander watched Davidge go searching for Zammis as he reached under the leather strap that held his luna knife against his leg and pushed the harsh demin into the sore skin below. The stinging pain distracted him, and he lost Willow's next words as he imagined Spike's fingers pushing into his shoulder and bringing all the pain inside to that one spot, almost as if the physical pain turned a knob that allowed all the deeper pain to flow out of his soul. Spike would pull all the pain to the surface and then erase it with a bite that burned into his flesh and then slowly turned to desire.

"Are you liking the movie?" Tara asked quietly, and Xander returned to reality as he thought about his answer. He did enjoy the movie, but the running commentary was hard to take. He knew there was something wrong with him for not fighting his slavery, but Tara hadn't asked about all that.

"Yes," he said quietly as Davidge scooped up Zammis.

"Xander, you know you can talk to us, right?" Willow asked, and now she moved from her end of the couch to the spot next to him, her hands seeking out his right hand and capturing it effortlessly.

"Yes," Xander agreed. He could talk to them, he just didn't have anything to say.

"We both know what a hard time you had, we were there too, and we know how hard it is to trust people and get back out in the world." Xander glanced over at Tara whose eyes focused on the popcorn bowl in her hand. He could practically feel the fear from her, but he didn't see Willow as having a hard time at all. "I know you can fight your way back from this," Willow said, and Xander felt his guilt rise up and drown out even the stinging pain of his leg. He pressed harder, but the physical pain eluded him.

"I..." Xander collected his thoughts as Willow sat holding his hand with a hopeful expression. "I'm happy now," he finally said although the statement wasn't true of this exact point in time. Willow's eyes shone with moisture.

"You're better than this; you're stronger than this. You faced down and Angelus and went into the Master's lair to bring Buffy back from the dead." Xander remembered the slack expression on Buffy's wet face when he had pulled her from that water. He wondered if he do that again if he had a chance to go back in time. Maybe he'd have let her die if he'd known what waited for her. He wondered what expression had been in her eyes when she'd been eviscerated by the demon as the Initiative soldiers watched. He wondered if she had found pain or pleasure as Spike had drained her life. He wondered if her last thought had even included him or if she'd assumed him dead.

"That isn't me anymore," Xander finally said, his eyes focused on the coffee table as he focused on the way the grain of the wood ran parallel until a knot interrupted it, swelling the lines and making new patterns in the wood.

"Xander, you're still the same boy who used to eat those tofu burgers my mom packed when she was on that vegetarian kick. You save everyone else, and now you just need to save yourself." Xander thought about that for less than a second.

"I don't need saving," he said, coming as close to arguing as he could without having his stomach reject the small treats he had allowed Willow to push on him during the movie. He closed his eyes tightly against the vision of the people he hadn't saved.
"You're more than a slave," Willow insisted.

"Yes," Xander agreed because he was more. He was Spike's slave, but he was also the person who Spike trusted enough to let pieces of broken William shine through and he was the one who listened to Joyce's stories and shared the pain of losing Buffy.

"You could stay here." Willow looked at him with such hope that Xander felt his heartbeat accelerate wildly at the thought of leaving his Master, and that lack of control made him struggle to catch his breath. Leshar would have stripped the skin from him for showing such an obvious sign of fear and Xander took several breaths as he tried to get himself under control. Spike wouldn't abandon him, he told himself , his Master wouldn't allow him to leave.

"No, I can't," Xander answered simply.

"Willow," Tara interrupted from the green chair where she had pulled her knees up so that her heels rested on the chair seat. Xander could see her own distress even as he tried to ride the wave of his fear using his confidence that Spike would come for him soon.

"He could," Willow said sharply, and Tara physically pulled back into the chair. Xander would have physically retreated as well except that Willow still held his hand captured in her strong grip. He didn’t want to physically fight her over possession of the limb. "He was always the strong one, and sometimes Buffy and Giles didn't see that. Giles thinks he needs Spike, but Xander isn't weak, he doesn't need Spike."

Xander held himself perfectly still as the word weak echoed into the corners of his mind. He knew that Buffy and Giles had always dismissed him as normal guy, and that didn't even hurt any more. He just didn't like Willow holding up a mirror to his weakness. He knew he was weak for needing Spike, but that's who he was now. He wasn't even normal guy, he was weak guy. He remembered wild green eyes as a head strained back to look at him, silently begging him for help, begging him to be strong enough to resist. He hadn't. He was weak. Xander physically shook his head to try and dislodge the edge of a memory that had taken hold.

"I know you're still in there. You put on a face like nothing hurts, but I know you don't want this kind of life. You hate Spike; remember how you wanted to stake him because you said he couldn't be trusted no matter how much metal he had in his head? Remember that fight you had with Buffy the night Giles asked you to take Spike to your place? You never would have knelt at his feet, and I know that person is still down there." Willow's pleading voice went on pulling out memories that Xander didn't think about very often.

He really had hated Spike, and now he couldn't quite figure out why. He hadn't wanted one more rival for Buffy's attention; he wanted to be her white knight just like Angelus had called him. More than that, Spike wasn't one of them, he didn't belong in the group. But now Spike was the center of the group holding Giles together financially and Xander emotionally and saving the girls. Everything centered around Spike, and Xander didn't want that to change. Without Spike he didn't know where he fit anymore.

"I don't hate Spike," he said seriously.

"I don't want you to hate Spike," Willow insisted, but Xander could hear the truth in her voice. The way she emphasized the word hate made it clear that she wanted him to dislike Spike, turn on Spike. Feeling like he had just discovered he was the last stranger alive in a tribe of cannibals, Xander straightened his back and dropped his eyes down to the floor as he fell back on the gestures that had pleased his trainers. He wasn't going to do anything and that way he couldn't do anything wrong.

"Xander, you're stronger than this," Willow wailed, and Xander explored the shades of brown and beige on the carpet because he really wasn't. He glanced up, and the television glare caught on Willow’s red hair and her eyes shone with tears even though only one had escaped and now ran along the outside of her cheek.

A memory of another red-head flashed into his mind. Those green eyes had begged him to be strong, tears running from the corners of those as the girl had twisted. Xander remembered the feeling of cold steel loops high on his thighs, a third loop circling his aching genitals. He wasn't strong. A fire burned through his flesh so that he'd cried out in pain, and the handler behind him jerked the leash so that metal dug into his thighs harshly and brought him to a halt. Leshar and the green horned demon with red eyes had talked on and on.

Xander had gone to his knees when they stopped, the concrete cold and crushingly hard on his bare knees, and now he vacillated between the down kneel and the more formal position kneel as his body demanded movement. The cool air had brushed over his skin making the hairs on his arms and legs stand up, but that just made the fire inside burn even hotter as he started grasping for breath. Such bad behavior normally would have earned him instant punishment, but Leshar had just laughed until money finally changed hands. The green demon had walked over to the barred front of a closet sized room where another sad eyed woman sat hugging her knees with the side of her head resting on the concrete wall. Leshar whispered words, and Xander had lost himself to his own weakness. That fire had burned away the last strength he had possessed.

Xander lost himself in a fractured set of memories where the green eyed girl became the blonde woman in whose blood he had once knelt who became Buffy lying dead beside the water. Xander pulled his form in tighter as his trembling muscles threatened to rip him limb from limb. He closed the fingers of his left hand around his right wrist and straightened his shoulders, Leshar's voice correcting his form to the sound of a flat wood strip hitting flesh. The knees apart, the head bowed, the hands at the small of the back, the spine straight, the eyes down, the expression pleasant and neutral, the feet pointed, the breathing even, the mouth closed... Xander's mind spun with all the rules.

A voice called out "floor," and Xander slid gracefully into the new position, his forehead touching the ground, his knees spread, his hands still at the small of his back, his eyes closed, his shoulders close to the ground the fingers of his right hand relaxed, his spine slightly curved, his breathing regular, his heart controlled and beating regularly, his body accepting of his handlers' punishment.

"Down," a voice ordered, and Xander slipped into the position with his hands resting on his thighs, his back straight, his head down, his eyes unfocused, his butt resting on his heels. Hands explored his cheek, cool knuckles brushing his hair back, but with his head bowed, the hair just fell back down. A low voice whispered, and Xander knew that voice. His breath caught in his chest and he could feel warm trails start wandering down his cheeks until a hand brushed them away.

"My beautiful pet, always gonna be mine, aren't ya?" the voice asked, and Xander leaned into the touch that now cupped his lower chin, fingers tangling with his hair. "But we need to leave now, and I need my pet to follow me. Can you do that, pet?" the voice asked and Xander struggled to focus his eyes. A second hand joined the first so that his face was held between strong hands that slowly tilted his head up and Xander saw Spike kneeling down in front of him, his leather duster thrown open and Spike's blue eyes searching him.

Xander opened his mouth to answer and time made a little jump because suddenly he was buried in Spike's lap sobs jerking his body in an irregular rhythm as his hands crept forward and sought out Spike's waist.

"Shh, pet. 'S'all right. Whatever it is, I'm bigger and meaner than it. It tries to come for ya and I'll break it into soddin' pieces." Xander pressed closer and Spike bent over his back so that the vampire's weight now pressed down on him, and Xander fisted Spike's t-shirt, holding on even as he struggled to find the pieces that matched reality. The carpet was real, the sound of an informercial offering stain cleaner was real, but most importantly, the smell of leather that now enveloped him was real, the weight of his master was real, Spike's crooning was real and Xander held on to those feelings until he could feel his heart slow and his breathing evened out.

"Master?" Xander asked, finding himself on the floor of Willow's living room.

"You okay, pet?" Xander could feel his muscles ache in the aftermath of the spell, but he had regained his ability to tell past from present.

"Yes, Master," he answered, embarrassed to have once again proved to everyone just how broken he'd been by his time in the slave pens.

"What scared ya, pet?" Spike asked as he sat up. A pair of green eyes flashed across Xander's memory, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen that shade of green or why those eyes seemed important.

"I don't know, Master," Xander finally answered.

"When I came in, what were you thinking of?" Spike's hands brushed over Xander's chest and legs and arms in a gesture Xander knew was Spike's way of checking that he hadn't hurt himself.

"Position training," Xander answered truthfully.

"Nothing else then?"

"No, Master." Xander tried to remember anything else that might have caused him to retreat. Spike gave him a strange look before getting to his feet. Xander stayed on his knees feeling safer somehow and needing to hide in his Master's shadow.

"Told you lot to be careful. We're not doin' this again any time soon," Spike sharply barked out, and Xander jumped a bit at the tone, but Spike stepped to his side and buried a hand in his curls, and Xander leaned into Spike's leg. He finally looked up to find Willow and Tara on the far side of the room. Tara still sat in the same chair except now Willow was sitting on the floor in front of her with swollen red eyes, her head resting on Tara's lap as Tara gently played with her hair. What a messed up lot they all were, Xander thought as he looked at his lifelong friend's tear streaked face.

"I didn't..." Willow sobbed and then had to take a deep breath.

"We didn't mean to hurt him," Tara finished for her, and the look Spike gave Tara was a lot more reassuring than the glare he directed at Willow. Xander knelt at Spike's side watching the silent war over custody of the insane slave, and his hand found it's way up to his collar as he fingered that warm, smooth metal and reminded himself that he was Spike's no matter what Willow thought or wanted.

"Doesn't matter what you meant. You won't have another chance to hurt him," Spike insisted.

"Please don't take him away." Willow pushed herself away from Tara's lap. "I won't... I'll be more careful of what I say. I didn't know!" Spike remained silent for so long that Willow's tears now flowed freely over her cheeks.

"I'll think about letting him come back over, but next time I'll be stayin'," Spike finally said, and Xander breathed a sigh of relief that the decision wasn't his. He didn't want to come back here, and he would have answered his Master truthfully, but he did still love Willow and he didn't want to have to say that to her face.

"Heel," Spike said, a command that he rarely used anymore and Xander stood and followed his Master out into the darkness of early morning.