Cursed

by
Mandylancast

Part Three

He awoke slowly to find himself in bed, alone. The pleasant fantasy that the previous day had been an anchovy-pizza induced nightmare was quickly dispelled by the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. The enormous bed he found himself in certainly wasn't his. Lying still while he gathered his thoughts he quickly reviewed his last impressions and promptly sat up in a cold sweat. Vampire blood, he’d drunk vampire blood! His tongue pressed on his teeth searching for fangs while one hand flew to his neck searching for a pulse. His questing fingers felt a racing beat and he slumped a little in relief.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" asked a high pitched (screeching might not be exaggerating) feminine voice from the other side of the room.

"Gah!" Xander nearly screamed, flattening himself against the headboard. He spotted a dark haired, angry looking girl sitting in an armchair near the bed. "I'm lying here, you have a problem with that?" His nerves felt like they'd gone three rounds with a cheese grater, making him snappish. "How's about a little sympathy for the vampire's punching bag?"

The girl marched over and gripped his leg, rolling him half over and eyeing him clinically. “Looks like he was a bit rough with you, but you'll be fine. He gave you blood," she sounded disdainful as if she didn't think he deserved sympathy.

It was then that the realization hit. He didn’t hurt. He’d been thrashed within an inch of his life last night, he should be one big bruise, crisscrossed with cuts. A quick look down his body revealed a few old looking bruises and not much else. The girl, like some Twilight Zone rolodex the not-his memories provided her name, Mary, seemed to think the blood he'd drunk had some sort of healing properties. He would have curled up and quietly wigged at that but Mary had things on her mind and didn't seem inclined to leave him to have a nervous breakdown in peace.

“We count on you to keep Master calm. That was not a calm vampire in the larder," she declared in a scathing tone.

“Well gee, sorry to disappoint,” Xander’s tone dripped venom as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. For the first time he noticed a clink as he moved and a drag on his right ankle. A quick glance revealed his new accessory, a manacle with a chain attaching him to the heavy iron bedframe. "Oh that's just great!" he exclaimed, shaking his manacled foot, making the links jingle. "Apparently, I'm a flight risk."

"Well, what did you expect, running off like an idiot?" There was not the smallest trace of compassion in her face or voice. "It's your own fault! Do you have a clue how badly you pissed him off?"

"Pissed him off …!" he spluttered.

“Yeah, pissed him off!” she snarled practically in his face, hands balled into fists at her sides. “And we don’t appreciate it one bit! He doesn’t take his bad mood out on you, you know. He takes it out on us!”

Xander edged back from her furious face as he tried to process that. "What do you …”

Mary seemed unwilling to allow him to complete a sentence. She straightened so that she was looking down on him and in a flat voice said, “He killed three of us.”

That stopped him. He blinked at her for a minute, attempting to get his mouth in gear.

“Rafael had it coming, he’s been a trouble maker ever since Master won him. Figured he’d be the sacrificial goat if Master needed to bleed off some frustration. But Peter just came over to start cleaning up the mess and Master threw him against the wall. Rachel tried to intervene and he snapped her neck just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Peter was moaning and Master finished him off. They were a breeding pair, Xander, Master must have been so mad he couldn’t see straight. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“My God,” Xander felt like all the breath had been squeezed from his body. “Where is he now?”

“Well none of us were going to ask where he was going with him in that state, now were we? We just stood perfectly still until he left,” she growled. “With any luck he’s gone to the arena and he’ll work it off there. Just pray he’s not so upset he gets himself dusted.”

OK, that had his head spinning. She didn't sound like someone who had seen something unspeakably awful, more like someone talking to a teenager who'd just wrapped the family car around a telephone pole. Actually, she sounded a lot like his mother after his dad had been on a three day bender. “Are you kidding me? The only reason I wouldn’t want him dead is so I could dismember him slowly. But I’ll content myself with stomping on his dust.”

“Philip has been shooting his mouth off again, hasn’t he?” Her dark brows crashed down in disapproval. “He likes to brag about how cushy he’s got it, but I’m telling you everyone’s household is the same. People like to pretend they have it better but it’s all window dressing. We actually have it better than most. At least if Master kills you he does it quick. I’ve heard some of them like to take their time.”

“Wait, after what you just told me, you can’t honestly tell me you don’t want him gone,” he said incredulously.

“Of course I don’t! My God, you have gone insane! Xander, you know what happens to a masterless household.” She stepped back as if she thought he might be dangerously deranged.

“We get out of here, that’s what!” he insisted. "We could escape, hide somewhere …"

“And do what? Live on the streets like strays until we get picked up and sold for parts? At least if we stayed put we might get auctioned off to another master, and they might even be semi-decent.” She seemed to have decided he wasn’t dangerous because she closed the distance again and gripped his arm, “I don’t know who’s been filling your head with idiotic notions but we have it good here as long as everyone does their part. Any of the larder would give their right arm to be where you are. You’re the one he loves, Xander. It's no wonder he was furious.”

Xander felt like testing his hearing for that one. He'd seen Spike in love, crying into his beer over Dru, mooning after Buffy. Of course, it was all relative. To Mary the very fact that Spike hadn't killed him for his transgressions might be sufficient evidence that he was somehow beloved. Xander really didn't want to bet either life or limb on that shaky proposition. He really didn't see much point in disabusing her of this crazy notion. She probably wouldn't believe him anyway.

Mary seemed to have run out of venom. She shook her head as she moved to the door. “I don’t know what’s happened to you but get it under control or there’s going to be some serious hell to pay.” And with that she left.

He lay back down and stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded by that little exchange. He considered his options. He didn’t have very many. The chain attaching him to the bedframe pretty much eliminated running again. Fighting wasn’t going to get him anywhere except in a world of pain. Not only would it be useless but it put other people's lives at risk. The natives weren't revolting and he had evidently been cast in the role of vampire pacifier. Which meant his options were reduced to doing whatever Spike said like a good little slave. The idea galled him.

Thinking about all this was going to drive him crazy in short order. To divert himself he took a few minutes to really take in the room. It didn’t look like anything he would expect from Spike. The décor was all muted earth tones, with deep brick red accents. The wing backed armchairs and ornate lamps made him think that Spike might be getting back in touch with his Victorian roots. He climbed out of bed and realized that the deep pile of the carpet made it almost as comfortable as the bed. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that the chain attaching him to the bed reached into the bathroom across the room with maneuvering room to spare.

The bathroom was as lavish as the bedroom. There was a shower that could accommodate four people easily, equipped to shoot water at the occupants from every conceivable angle, and a whirlpool tub you could do laps in. It was very much the sort of layout he might enjoy in other circumstances. He turned the cold water tap on the sink and drank from his cupped hands. Movement caught his eye and he caught his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. It took him a minute to recognize the image as his. His hair fell, wild and unkempt, halfway down his back. He ran a hand over his chin where he was sporting a good day’s growth. His counterpart obviously kept vampire hours because his complexion was milky white rather than the dark tan he'd been sporting since he started construction work. While he was taking inventory he noticed his hands. He was used to his own hands being a little rough from working with wood, tools and weapons. These were soft, as if they’d never done manual labor.

The most striking thing though was the collar. It was a thick, silver chain, thicker than anything he would have ever worn. Close examination revealed an alternating pattern of S's with spikes run through them and stylized X's. The chain fell to the top of his collarbone and was welded shut. This was a piece of jewelry never meant to come off. On the right side, half obscured by the collar was a silvery scar that was all too familiar. Buffy bore a mark like that just a little higher up. He wondered if Spike had bitten him or if it had happened earlier. He ran a fingertip under the collar to feel the scar and it sent a warm tingle through him. A memory flash hit him full force with the contact. He felt the agony of Spike’s fangs sinking into him, but the agony morphed into an electric current of pleasure with the first swallow. Warm tingles radiated out from the bite, picking up in intensity until it became nearly painful, exquisite torment. The feel of Spike’s mouth draining his life away made him feel connected, needed.

He returned to the present to find himself on the floor and was rather unsurprised to find he now had a raging hard on. Was that what being drained was like? Buffy had never mentioned anything about that. But then she wouldn’t, not to him at any rate. Finding out that being bitten by Spike was an experience that rivaled the best sex he’d ever had was something he wanted to repress quickly.

Getting cleaned up promised an opportunity to lose himself in mindless routine for a few minutes at least and the most cursory of searches revealed all the toiletries he would need for the job. A long, hot shower turned out to do wonders for improving his general sense of well being. Coupled with a shave and brushing his teeth he felt almost civilized. He pointedly ignored items that were not part of his normal routine although he was certain they were part of the other Xander’s. The hair dripping down his back was annoying. He was used to doing a quick rub with a towel and being done with it. He was just starting a search for a hair dryer when he heard the door in the bedroom slam shut.

He was fairly certain who was out there but he poked his head around the doorframe anyway. Spike was all of two feet away from him and surveying him like a prime piece of meat. In the fight between his hatred of Spike and his terror of him the beating had flipped the switch firmly to terrified. He slipped back into the bathroom and pressed himself against the far wall.

Spike stood in the doorway and scowled at Xander. His usual outfit pared down to skin tight black t-shirt, jeans and boots he seemed somehow even more menacing. “C'mere, Pet.” His tone suggested very unpleasant things could result if he was disobeyed.

Xander had to force himself to move away from the wall and in reach of those killing hands. When he moved forward Spike turned away and went to drop into the armchair Mary had so recently vacated. He followed him to the chair and was greeted by Spike’s raised eyebrow and his finger pointing to the floor by his knee. Taking a guess Xander dropped to his knees. Spike settled back in his chair and seemed satisfied with this response.

Silence reigned for a few minutes until Xander couldn't take it anymore and did what came naturally when he was scared and nervous, he babbled. “You know, I don’t think the ankle bracelet is really a good look for me, not the manly image I want to project, so if we could just dispense with …”

Shaking his head the vampire took him to task. “What's gotten into you? You weren’t this disobedient when I first claimed you. Care to offer an explanation?”

Xander was intensely cognizant of the fact that he was going to keep making stupid mistakes since he didn’t know the rules here, he couldn’t successfully imitate the Xander of this reality. Even worse, a mistake he made in ignorance could have consequences for more than just himself. The truth was a big risk but it might get him somewhere. There was always the risk Spike would think he was insane, but then, Spike had always had a soft spot for the insane.

“Because I’m not exactly your Xander,” he blurted.

He never even saw Spike move but he felt the stinging burn his hand had left on his cheek. “Don’t ever deny my claim, boy!”

“I’m not!” he cried out, raising a hand to his aching cheek. “I’m just not the same Xander you had yesterday. Look, do you know what a vengeance demon is?”

"Of course I know what a …" Spike trailed off and eyed him speculatively. "You saying you've been cursed?"

"Oh, yeah," Xander responded feelingly. "Big time."

Spike leaned back in his chair and made an encouraging gesture.

Xander could scarcely believe Spike's willingness to listen while he explained about Anya and the wedding that wasn’t and his subsequent cursing. Occasionally Spike interjected his own commentary. He appreciated the stones it took to take up with a vengeance demon, even an ex one and the stupidity it took to stand one up at the altar. Having little room to argue Xander accepted the truth of this.

Story finished Xander stayed on his knees next to Spike, feeling every inch a supplicant. “So you see I’m not really supposed to be here at all. I’m sure I make a lousy pet, not really cut out for it you see. And what I’d really like to do is leave, join the human resistance or something.”

Xander expected a lot of possible reactions to this declaration, in fact he had braced himself for another hard slap. What he didn’t expect was the snort, followed by Spike throwing back his head with the intensity of his laughter.

“Um … what part of that was funny?” Xander let some of his aggravation slip into his voice but he tried to keep it under control, afterall, Spike did hold his fate in his hands.

Spike gaped at him, “You’re serious!”

“Of course I’m serious.” He looked again at Spike’s incredulous expression. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

Spike seemed to make up his mind about something. Maybe Xander had just finished off any remaining doubts. “There is no human resistance, Pet.”

“What do you mean? Sure there is, there has to be,” Xander insisted, horrified by the implications if there wasn’t.

“Someone doesn’t understand the definition of apocalypse,” Spike mocked.

“Hey, helped avert seven of the suckers, I’ll have you know,” Xander declared indignantly.

“Well there you are then,” Xander suspected Spike was not attempting to hide his patronizing tone. “This one actually happened.”

Xander tried to wet his suddenly dry throat. “Um, I’m, uh, not too clear on what’s going on around here. Obviously. Care to fill in some gaps, Spike?”

“Master.”

“Huh?”

“You refer to me as Master, Master Spike if we’re in company and you need to distinguish. If you call me by my name again I’ll have to punish you.” Spike explained patiently. And Xander could tell he really was tapping into the extremely limited store of Spike patience.

Having already had as much punishment as he felt he could actually handle Xander figured he could make the adjustment. “Could you tell me what happened, Master.” The word felt funny in his mouth.

And Spike told him. He talked in short, precise sentences about worldwide devastation, the enslavement of the whole human race and the Master’s iron rule. Apparently, humans now only existed as pets like himself, as part of a vampire's larder or in a number of even less appealing situations which he wouldn’t have believed prior to his experience in the kennel. There were a few strays that were sometimes rounded up like he himself had been, but there was no organization to them.

“What about the Slayer?” Xander asked, fearing the answer but having a morbid need to know.

“Slayer’s old bat face’s personal pet. Pretty thing by the name of Kendra. I understand if the old boy is happy enough with you he'll let you have a go with her.”

Xander remembered the shy girl who’d called him sir and he shivered to think of her fate. Why he couldn't really say but he had to know, "Did you ever …?"

"Me?" Spike seemed to think the idea worth some amusement. "Nah, can't abide that lot, all chants and rituals. Makes my skin crawl. Besides, where's the fun in havin' at a broken Slayer if you didn't get ta do the breakin'?"

As comforting statements went it was about as good as he could hope for from Spike. Given the attitude of the humans he had encountered thus far Xander was chagrined to admit he believed Spike about there being no human resistance. Even if such an animal existed the chances of him hooking up with them was vanishingly small. He found himself thinking about the other members of their little band. Were Oz, Tara, and Riley all dead or members of some other vampire's household? And where was Angel? That was an idea worth pursuing. With Buffy dead and the world in its current state it seemed unlikely he'd run afoul of his happiness clause. A souled Angel was about his only hope for an ally here. That was assuming he remained undusty.

"I can see the wheels turnin', what's going through that head of yours?" Spike asked him.

Honesty had gotten him this far, no real reason to abandon it now. “I was thinking that if Angel still has his soul he might be willing to trade you something for me, Master,” laying it on a little thick couldn’t hurt at this juncture. “I don’t know what, I don’t know how that stuff works but it’s all I can think of.”

Spike seemed to consider this for a moment. Xander really wasn't sure how to characterize the expressions going across his face. It looked like he was weighing up actions and consequences and he kept eyeing Xander in a speculative way that he wasn't sure he liked. Xander stayed perfectly still while his fate was decided. "I've been meaning to pay Angelus a visit for some time now. I think it's time to settle up accounts with him."

Xander smiled for the first time since he got here. This had definite possibilities of being survivable.

Spike slipped from his chair and prowled over to the nightstand. “I’ll look into tracking Peaches down tomorrow.” He turned back to Xander, a pair of leather restraints dangling from his fingers. “In the meantime, it looks like I get to break you in all over again.” He sported a feral grin and Xander blanched.

Part Four

Xander scrambled away from Spike until his back hit the bed. “Look, I know you and the other Xander had one of those “special” relationships but, the thing is, I’m not gay” he babbled, “not that there’s anything wrong with …”

Spike dropped to a crouch in front of Xander. The look on his face was anything but amused. He gripped Xander’s face in his hand hard enough to make his jaw ache. “I’ll tell you exactly what you are, Pet,” he bit out. “You’re mine. And if you flinch away from me one more time I’ll turn you inside out.”

Xander stared at him, his eyes going wide with terror. He couldn’t speak or move with his jaw gripped that way but Spike seemed satisfied that his message had been received as he released him and motioned him forward. Xander obliged immediately.

“Hands behind your back.”

Xander put his hands behind him and tried to think like a posable doll while Spike sat behind him and buckled the leather cuffs onto his wrists. “You got a lot to learn, Pet. But to sum it all up, everything you get comes from my hands. Your food, shelter, pleasure and pain.”

Spike’s tone had become conversational but Xander’s tension only grew.

“We’re going to hammer that into you right now,” he said positioning Xander’s arms in the small of his back and clipping the restraints together. Then he reached around and grabbed ahold of Xander’s limp cock. Xander could feel all the blood drain out of his face. “This, along with the rest of you, is my toy. Nobody plays with it without my permission including you.”

Xander felt like he was going to pass out when Spike released him and moved him a little closer to the armchair. “No one but me is allowed to punish you either. You’re my plaything and I don’t play well with others.”

Satisfied with his position Spike rose and moved in front of him. Xander found himself staring fixedly at Spike’s crotch, which was perfectly lined up with his mouth. He was feeling seriously light headed. Spike’s intentions were all too clear, he was going to give Spike a blowjob and there was nothing he could do about it.

Spike ran his hand over Xander’s damp hair in a gesture he was pretty sure was meant to be reassuring. It wasn’t. He dropped his eyes to the floor and waited.

Spike cupped the back of his head, applying slight pressure for him to tilt his head up. Resigned to his fate, he moved with the pressure until he was looking up at Spike. Spike ran a thumb lightly over Xander’s lower lip. “You have a very pretty mouth, Pet.”

‘It can’t be that bad, I can do this, I can do this to survive’ Xander sought to reason with himself. ‘Oh God, what if he’s huge?’

Spike moved away to the door and called out to someone named James, then spoke to him quietly. Xander didn’t dare move although his muscles had begun to scream with the tension of holding himself so rigid. When Spike turned around he was holding a plate of food and a glass of milk.

He put the plate and glass down on the low table next to the armchair and asked, “Hungry, Pet?”

Xander was so staggered he couldn’t answer. He nodded mutely.

Spike rubbed his finger along Xander’s jawline. “Make no mistake, we will get to that. But one thing at a time.”

Spike dropped into the chair, Xander positioned at his knee. The smell of the hot food reminded Xander just how long it had been since he’d eaten. He was dying for a bite. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans. Comfort food. Spike scooped a forkful of mashed potatoes and tried to feed it to him. It was amazingly awkward. Xander kept trying to move to intercept the fork, which nearly led to him wearing the potatoes rather than eating them. Spike kept pulling the fork away until Xander relented and opened his mouth so that Spike fed him like a baby bird. It was humiliating and made him feel utterly dependent. Which, on further contemplation, was probably the point.

Xander was hungry enough to eat this way without protest and Spike resumed speaking.

“Gonna tell you a bit about yourself, Pet,” he said conversationally, as if feeding him like this was an everyday occurrence. Xander sincerely hoped it wasn’t.

“When I found you in that store you were on your way out. Wouldn’t have lasted another day, maybe not another hour,” he continued matter of factly. “And it wasn’t just hunger, though you were skinny enough. Bein’ on your own had practically gutted you.” Xander flashed back to the absolute despair that had lead his counterpart to offer his neck to the vampire and couldn’t really disagree.

“Made us a pair really. I’d just lost my reason for existin’ an’ you hadn’t had one in too long. So I gave you one. You were so eager to belong, reminded me of a puppy you did. Kept me goin’ til I had my feet back under me. Because of that I’m cuttin’ you slack. My Xander is a devoted pet, coveted by half the demons in the area. If I can’t have him back, if you can’t be that… Let’s just say I don’t want to start from scratch but I will.”

Xander nearly choked on his milk. Dinner and death threats, great combination. When he could speak he responded, “I understand, Master.”

Spike nodded. Message received loud and clear.

Spike let the fork clatter on the empty plate and stood. Xander stayed perfectly still, unsure what was next on the agenda. Spike placed a hand lightly on the back of his head and tilted it forward so Xander was looking at the expensively carpeted floor. “When I enter the room I expect you to assume this position. I like creativity and initiative but when I tell you to do something I expect you to do it. I don’t care to repeat myself,” Spike instructed. He paused, as if contemplating his next move. Then he leaned over Xander’s shoulder and unhooked the manacles. “Here endeth the lesson, at least for now, I’m knackered.”

Xander watched without changing position as Spike went into a bone popping stretch. He eyed Xander briefly then said, “Take those off and put ‘em away.”

With clumsy fingers Xander undid the buckles on the cuffs. It was difficult to do one handed but he tried to be quick. When they were back in the nightstand drawer he looked back to find Spike had already shed his boots and t-shirt and was undoing his belt.

“Get on into bed then.” Spike nodded toward the piece of furniture in question.

Not daring to argue, Xander slid between the crisp, cool sheets that smelled freshly laundered. He couldn’t stop his mind from playing images of what was to happen next. He wondered if Spike would make it hurt. If he screamed in pain would that be taken as disobedience? He lay on his back and watched Spike divest himself of the last of his clothes. He couldn’t help looking and was relieved to see Spike was only average sized, then Spike turned off the light. Xander jumped a little when the mattress dipped with the weight of Spike’s body but kept himself from flinching again.

Spike draped an arm over Xander’s chest and pulled him to spoon in front of him. Pulled tight against the vampire’s hard chest Xander tried to relax. It was easier if you relaxed. Spike nuzzled into his neck, heaved a huge sigh and went still. Completely still. After several minutes of no other movement Xander came to the amazed conclusion that Spike had gone to sleep. He appeared to be safe for the remainder of the night. Not that he expected to get any rest himself.

Xander was on his knees on the big bed, his hands manacled to the headboard with his arms stretched over his head as if he was about to dive over it. His legs were spread to the point a deep burn had taken up residence in his upper thighs but they perfectly framed Master who knelt behind him, buried balls deep in his ass. Xander moaned in deep pleasure as Master once again hit that spot deep inside him that made him see stars. Xander grasped the top rail of the headboard and thrust back to meet each forward plunge from behind, leaving Master’s hands free to roam at will over his back, his hands buried in his hair. Master grabbed a double handful of his hair and pulled back on it like a set of reins causing Xander to arch his back and neck and moan again.

A disjointed litany fell from his mouth, peppered with “Master” and “more” and “yours, yours, yours” over and over as Master’s thrusts became erratic and he collapsed forward over Xander’s back, his face buried in his hair.

Then, as he had on so many other occasions, he heard him whisper, “Dru.” And Xander was grateful to be able to give his master a little peace. Master's grief would be a little more bearable now and no one else would have to pay the price for his pain.

*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*

Master was conducting some type of meeting at a conference table surrounded by vamps and one or two other types of demon. Xander was curled up on a cushion at his feet. He felt Master’s tension rise and lifted his head to survey the situation. No one was openly threatening but Master was grinding his teeth in frustration. Xander placed his hands on Master’s thighs and began kneading, waiting for the reaction. Master glanced down at him and smiled. Encouraged, Xander put his head in his lap and rubbed his cheek along the other leg until he felt Master start petting him. He felt Master relax and smiled, pleased he'd done his job well.

Xander stretched and opened his eyes to find Master was already up and gone. He was about to get up to go look for him when the movement of his leg made the links of the chain attached to his ankle jingle. At sight of the manacle and attached chain the previous day came back to him in a rush. He fell back on the bed breathing hard. He’d lost himself in the other existence and he still wasn’t sure which memories were his and which were the other Xander’s.

It took him an hour to sort through the various disputed memories, to wrest his actual life free of this imposed reality. When he had it all straight again he was unsure which disturbed him more, the fact that his actual life seemed hazier than it had yesterday or the relief that it appeared sex with Spike wasn’t going to be as painful as he had feared.

Trying to put disturbing thoughts onto a mental back burner was complicated by the staggering boredom he now faced. The Xander that belonged here had free run of the house. There were a multitude of ways to entertain himself downstairs, people to talk to, books to read, pretty much any source of amusement he could want. However, trapped in this room he had nothing but his own company. He spent an hour exhausting himself with exercise, trying to shut his mind down. It worked for a little while but, ultimately, worry overtook his brain again. He spent time in the grand bathroom. This time he went through all the routines his double did. Refusing to acknowledge his true circumstances seemed a surefire way to be punished and it seemed stupid to set up more pitfalls for himself over something so small.

When he exited the bathroom he discovered that while he’d been scrubbing away someone had been in and changed the linens and left a bowl of fruit on the table. He debated eating the fruit for some time, suspecting it might be meant as decoration rather than sustenance but the growling of his stomach eventually decided the issue and he started in on an apple. Unfortunately, eating didn’t take much attention at all. Deciding that ignorance was not bliss he started poking about the room while he munched. He looked through the nightstand drawer that housed the leather restraints and found nothing more exotic than Anya had in her box of sex toys at home. Not that Anya’s collection was lacking in the exotic but it was a relief to be able to recognize each toy and have a fair idea of its use. Better than the wild torture devices with which his mind had been populating it.

The dresser contained nothing more remarkable than underwear, socks and t-shirts, all black naturally. The closet revealed that this Spike’s dress sense wasn’t much more varied than the version he was accustomed to.

He’d been reduced to examining the two abstract paintings on either side of the bed, trying to find recognizable shapes in them when he heard the door open behind him. Spike stood in the doorway clad in the black jeans and t-shirt which appeared to be his uniform around the house, his head tilted to one side as though he were considering the view, a slight smile gracing his lips indicating he didn’t find it unappealing. Xander was so glad for someone to interact with, even if it was Spike, he smiled dropping to his knees and assuming the position Spike had shown him the previous day. Spike made a slow circle around Xander, making him feel like he was undergoing an inspection. Spike put two fingers under his chin and lifted. If it was an inspection he seemed to have passed because Spike was practically beaming at him. Xander found himself grinning back.

Desperate for input from beyond these four walls he asked, "So what did you do today?"

“I’ve been setting up a little visit to LA.” A shadow fell over Spike’s eyes briefly but Xander had the impression it wasn’t displeasure at him.

“Is something wrong?” Xander asked, all too aware that the vampire’s moods now had a significant impact on his own well being.

Spike shook himself a bit and the shadow left his eyes. “Nothing you need be concerned about.”

He reached out and snagged a lock of Xander’s hair. Rubbing it between his fingers, a pleased smile returned to his face. He released the hair and ambled into the bathroom to emerge a moment latter with a large brush. He plopped into what must be his customary chair and shoved the table in front of it to one side. “Com’ere, Pet.”

Xander scrambled up and resumed a kneeling position in front of Spike who gestured for him to turn around. After a moment’s fumbling he was sitting Indian style between Spike’s knees with his head tilted forward. Spike began making long, practiced strokes with the brush. Xander had never paid more attention to his hair than a brisk toweling and a few swipes with a comb. He was surprised at what a pleasant sensation the brushing was. Spike brushed in an unhurried fashion, when he hit a tangle he carefully teased it apart rather than pulling.

“Used to give Dru’s hair a hundred strokes every day.” Spike’s voice was distant with memory. “She had the most lovely, thick hair, I could spend hours playing with it.”

The feel of the brush over his scalp and the soft cadence of Spike’s voice was so soothing that Xander felt bold enough to ask a favor. "Master, could we dispense with the ankle bracelet." He jingled the chain for emphasis. "I promise I won't try to run away again."

Spike's hands never changed their rhythm. "Bored today were you?"

"Stupefyingly," Xander said with feeling.

"And you'll be bored again tomorrow. It's your punishment," Spike said while teasing out a tangle.

The gentleness Spike was currently showing made Xander dare to ask, "What, the beating wasn't punishment enough."

In the same calm, even voice he'd been using Spike said, "That wasn't punishment, that was stress relief."

A cold shiver went down Xander's spine as he realized he'd probably say the same thing, in the same indifferent voice, about the three people he'd killed that same night. Just for a moment he'd forgotten he was in the hands of a monster.

A soft knock at the door spared him trying to find a followup remark.

"Enter," Spike called out. Xander noticed the easy authority in Spike's voice. It was a voice that expected to be obeyed. He'd never thought about the hesitancy that had crept into the other Spike's voice.

The soft sound of bare feet on the deep carpet stopped behind him and Xander tried to sneak a peek at the newcomer. "Eyes front, Pet," Spike instructed and Xander shifted back to staring straight ahead. But he could hear the sounds of dishes being set down on the table and smell the delicious aroma of sizzling steak, which made his mouth water. The few pieces of fruit he'd eaten had taken the edge off his hunger but he was more than ready for a real meal.

Spike gave his hair a few more strokes then said, "Right, ready for supper?"

"Yes, Master," he said eagerly.

When Spike rose and headed for the nightstand Xander shifted to kneeling where he'd been fed the previous day. Spike returned with the leather restraints and Xander put his hands behind his back without comment. As he'd just been reminded, making Spike angry was a very dangerous pursuit, besides, putting up a protest would merely delay dinner and he was hungry.

"While you're bored tomorrow you can figure out what you're going to do to please me," Spike said while he fastened the cuffs. "I'm interested to see what you bring to the party."

With some difficulty Xander forced that to a back corner of his mind. As Spike suggested, he'd have plenty of time to mull it over when he was alone. No use panicking about it now.

Eating was less awkward than it had been the previous day. It still felt weird but he wasn't fighting it so much this time. The food made up for the strangeness in any case, the medium rare steak was tender and prepared exactly how he liked it and the steamed vegetables did justice to the phrase tender crisp. It was exactly the sort of meal his mother had never prepared. In fact, he'd only had something this good the handful of times he'd taken Anya to a fancy restaurant when they were celebrating.

While he ate Spike told him about the household. He talked about what could be found in the library, the game room and gardens. He told him about the pool. As he listened Xander felt the other memories surface and he didn't try to beat them back down. The memories told him things Spike didn't say, things he probably didn't know. For instance, Mary ran the kitchen, she'd been a chef in pre-apocalypse days and she was responsible for the gourmet meals. Pablo and Fritz kept the place clean with military precision, Spike probably wasn't even aware that as soon as he left the bedroom they changed the linens, put away any clean clothes and generally put the room in perfect order for his return. Xander wondered if any Initiative soldiers had found their way to Spike's larder, then realized he'd be the only one to get the irony.

Roughly one hundred and twenty people comprised Spike's larder, most of whom slept in the former dormitory across the street. There was only one cage in the whole place and that was only for discipline cases like the late, and apparently unlamented, Rafael. Spike liked order in his home and didn't like to be bothered with the details. James was in charge of the details. He ran the household with ruthless efficiency and carried automatic and unquestioned authority. The strange thing was the lack of vampiric minions. Spike claimed they weren't to be trusted. As it was, the humans kept things running while Spike provided. The humans living under his rule were well fed, had a comfortable place to sleep and lived under the protection of a master who wasn't overly prone to indiscriminate culling of the herd.

Xander knew that there were things inherently wrong with being content with this state of affairs but he was having trouble defining what they were by the time the last bite of food was finished. The meal had been scrumptious and Xander could feel the other Xander very close to the surface.

"Got a surprise for you, Pet." Spike had a mischievous smile on his face as he produced a black scarf from beside the chair.

Alarm bells went off in Xander's head as the cool, slick material, which he guessed was silk, was tied around his eyes but it was like their clappers were wrapped in cotton balls. He was nervous, certainly, but the terror that he was pretty sure would have gripped him just yesterday failed to surface. Instead, he let the influence of the other Xander have freer reign.

"Open your mouth, Pet," Spike said, seductively.

Xander obeyed.

The cool metal of a spoon entered his mouth and was withdrawn slowly, leaving behind something creamy and decadent with the slight bitter edge of really fine dark chocolate. It was, without doubt, the best chocolate mousse Xander had ever tasted and he moaned in appreciation.

Spike chuckled as he fed him another spoonful. "Figured you'd like that."

Xander would have replied but that would have meant pausing from savoring the dessert so he makes more appreciative noises instead.

It was hard not to feel pampered and Xander didn't try. When Spike's fingers ran along his shoulder he was concentrating on the last bite of mousse. When they skimmed over his mark it sent tingles through his shoulder. Spike's fingers made gentle, small circles over the mark that nudged his collar to the side. The tingles turned into warm waves of sensation that settled very happily in his groin. They were so distracting that the first indication he had that Spike had moved behind him was when he leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Figured you'd like that too."

Spike's tongue replaced his fingers in kitten licks across the mark. The pleasantly arousing sensation turned into something akin to an electrical charge. Xander laid his head back on Spike's waiting shoulder, granting freer access.

"That's right, precious boy," Spike paused to tip Xander more fully against his chest, "just relax and let me make you feel good."

Some distant part of Xander's mind wanted to protest that this was not something he should be enjoying but found itself outvoted as he rested almost all of his weight on the hard chest behind him as Spike renewed his attentions with long, slow strokes of his tongue.

Xander was seconds away from orgasm and had given embarrassment and shame a hearty "sod off" in his own head. Which meant that Spike's hand encircling the base of his cock, cutting off his release, was cause for a heartfelt groan of protest.

"Not without leave, Pet," Spike instructed. He sounded almost kind when he continued, "Do you need a cock ring?"

Xander had enough brain cells still firing to realize that disobeying Spike brought unpleasant consequences. It was enough to pull him back from the edge. "I can manage," he told Spike.

"Don't worry, Pet, I won't make you wait too long." Spike sounded genuinely pleased and kicked his attentions up a notch by nibbling with blunt teeth.

This elicited a moaned, "Master" from Xander that he would freak about later. Somehow Spike had gotten one arm under his knees and, without relinquishing contact with the mark, lifted Xander and landed them both with a springy bounce on the bed. One arm held Xander tight to Spike's chest and the teeth that worried the mark were now sharp and pointy.

"You may come," Spike said just before plunging fangs into the mark.

Xander screamed with the force of his release as Spike drew on the wound. When Spike withdrew his fangs Xander was as limp as a rag doll from the blood loss and afterglow. He was asleep before the blindfold was removed.