Cursed

by
Mandylancast

Part Five

The smell of bacon woke Xander. He smiled and had a full body stretch. He opened his eyes a second later when he heard the door click shut. He surveyed the room briefly and his eyes lighted on the massive breakfast laid out on the low table. He hopped out of bed and dug in, sitting Indian style at the table. Downing a large glass of juice as he upended a pitcher of maple syrup over the pancakes he glowed with satisfaction. Master was pleased with him and when he was pleased he had no patience for protracted punishment. Today would be his turn and when he was done pleasing Master the loathed chain would be gone. He smiled to himself remembering how good last night had felt. If that was what it felt like to get bitten why weren't willing victims lining up? Then he remembered the vampire whorehouse Buffy had destroyed and understood the allure for the first time.

Xander shook his head as his noncursed and cursed memories collided with each other. His double's memories and emotions had a firm grip on his perceptions. It was disorienting. He began eating methodically as he tried to get his bearings. He meticulously reviewed everything he could remember of the past five years. It was disturbingly difficult to sort the real from the fake memories. Months of hiding out in Sunnydale, knowing he was the only one of their group left, was too fixed in his mind to be easily dislodged by the euphoria he'd felt when Buffy took her first breath while he was giving her CPR. His failure seemed so much more likely than the last minute rescue. It was certainly in keeping with the memory of his first devastating failure which burned bright in both versions, the image of Xander's stake disappearing into Jesse's chest and his friend turning to dust before his eyes. When Spike had found him in the grocery store he'd hoped for a quick death. Once he realized that wasn't what Spike intended he'd accepted that he'd been a coward to think he deserved such a merciful end. It seemed entirely appropriate that he pay for his arrogance and incompetence by becoming a vampire's plaything. It seemed so damned poetic, not only for Jesse but for his inability to swallow his pride and ask for Angel's help in locating the Master's lair.

The memories kept overlapping and jumbling together, making the length of time he'd been here feel more like months than weeks. Even after his breakfast was long finished and a couple hours of concentrated effort he still wasn’t quite sure he’d gotten the two realities completely separated right. It felt like he'd been here months rather than weeks and some memories refused to sort at all. He couldn't figure out if he had hidden from a fyarl demon in an abandoned warehouse in his Sunnydale or the post-apocalyptic version?

The panic that he had postponed for today didn't surface. He nudged at the fact that he'd enjoyed Spike's attentions but couldn't muster much more than a token protest. His practical side insisted that this was his life now and he shouldn't complain if it wasn't too terrible to bear. It looked like his two halves were going to be fighting for awhile.

One thing both his selves agreed on was the fact that he had a vampire to please later today, and he even had an idea that was acceptable to both halves. He started rummaging around collecting what he needed.

A few hours later, when Spike reentered the room, Xander was ready for him. He resumed his submissive kneeling position and waited for Spike to speak first.

“So Pet, are you ready to please me?” Xander could swear he heard the smirk.

“Yes Master,” he paused for a moment, “I'm ready if you would like to begin.”

“No time like the present.”

Xander nodded as he stood. Coming up to Spike he carefully removed each article of Spike's clothing, folded it and put it aside. Spike was very amenable to moving however Xander directed. Once he was naked Xander took him by the hands and backed towards the bed. Spike started to flop down onto his back but Xander held onto his hands. “On your stomach please, Master.”

Spike cocked an eyebrow at him so Xander assured him, “You’ll like it, I promise.”

With a look that clearly said ‘I’d better,’ he lay on his stomach scooting to the center of the bed at Xander’s urging.

Xander poured a healthy amount of the massage oil he’d found into his hands to warm it before straddling the vampire’s hips. He spread the oil over the broad part of Spike’s back then began working at his shoulders. He pressed his fingers deeply into the knotted muscles of shoulders and neck, feeling them relax under the pressure. A groan of pleasure rewarded his efforts as he moved down the back before him aligning the spine as he went. Xander knew he was good at this. He’d taken a course on sports massage while still in high school just to have a legitimate excuse to put his hands on Buffy’s body. Needless to say there had been a lot of call for post slayage backrubs. Post high school, Anya had kicked it up a notch, requesting more erotic elements to the routines he’d learned, but the tension releasing, deep muscle backrub was still his most requested skill.

“Damn that’s good,” Spike moaned and Xander smiled in satisfaction. He'd always had to be so careful not to use too much pressure with Anya. Spike soaked up his most vigorous kneading with appreciative moans. In under an hour he’d reduced him to an amiable puddle of vampire goo and delayed the more unsavory activities one more day. From what Spike had said the previous day it sounded like the trip to see Angel was imminent. It couldn't be soon enough. He was starting to feel not so weird about the idea of Spike and naughty touching and he wasn't sure how many tame tricks he had up his sleeve. Even worse, he wasn't sure he'd be suitably horrified when Spike pushed things to the next level.

Spike broke into his thoughts while Xander was working on his calves, “We're heading out at sunset,” he mumbled into the pillow.

"To see Angel?" Xander couldn't contain his excitement, putting even more effort into unknotting the muscles under his hands.

The effort was not wasted as Spike made further appreciative noises then added, “That's the plan, Pet.”

That good news warranted the special foot rub of doom. He nudged Spike to flip over onto his back, which he did with obvious reluctance, to give him a better angle.

“Very resourceful Pet,” Spike conceded. “But next time I pick the activity.”

Xander’s stomach dropped a little and his eyes shot up to Spike’s face. Spike was practically purring in an indolent sprawl and showed no sign of being upset or, for that matter, moving so Xander dropped his eyes back to what he was doing.

It was hard to tell with a creature that didn’t breathe but Xander was pretty sure that Spike dozed off for a little while. He kept up some light strokes just in case. He lost track of how long he did this as he sank into thoughts of how to mitigate the next round. A light knocking at the door roused Spike who called out, “Come in.”

Mary entered carrying a plate of food. At the sight of Spike’s cat that ate the canary smile she smiled at Xander. Looked like all was forgiven if he kept Master happy.

Spike motioned for her to put the food on the nightstand, “Time for dinner, Pet.”

There was no way he was going to jeopardize the vampire’s good mood by disobeying so he slid off the bed and knelt beside it near the head, hands behind his back. Spike scooted back to the edge of the bed propping himself up on pillows without giving up his languid posture. The restraints weren't pulled out, or mentioned. Xander wasn't certain what that meant but kept his hands behind him regardless.

Dinner was all finger food so Xander was fed without utensils. This strange way of eating was becoming easier and the meal was nearly finished when Mary crawled onto the bed next to Spike and presented her neck to him. Spike pulled her onto his chest and grabbed the padlock that held her collar closed. Mary froze. Spike pulled the simple chain out of his way and sank his fangs into the base of her neck even as he fed Xander a chicken finger, which Xander choked on. Spike didn’t seem to notice, as he was intent on feeding. Xander fought down the ingrained urge to rip Spike away from her throat. The moment Spike bit her Mary relaxed as if this was an everyday occurrence. Around here it probably was.

Remembering his own experience he calmed himself, he was relatively certain Spike didn't intend to drain her. But the memory also made the act feel too intimate to watch and he found a spot on the edge of the bed to stare at until he heard the shifting of bodies on the bed. Mary was a little glassy eyed but she was breathing and the bleeding from the bite was barely a trickle. Spike actually seemed to take some care to arrange her comfortably on the bed.

“Want any more?” Spike asked, indicating the mostly empty plate. Xander shook his head, certain he would be unable to choke down another mouthful.

“Right then,” Spike swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. “Got a long trip ahead of us.

Clothes were redonned with a minimum of fuss. Xander held position, deeming that the safest option. Spike stuck his head out the door and called for James. A tall, graceful man entered carrying a duffle bag.

“I’m traveling light,” Spike told him. The man nodded and piled a few changes of shirts and extra pair of jeans into the duffle. Spike opened the nightstand and pulled a few items out which he tossed into the duffle. He looked at Xander speculatively then pulled out a length of chain which he clipped onto his collar. Xander could feel himself flushing with humiliation. Once he had the leash attached Spike unlocked the manacle around Xander’s ankle.

“Make sure she gets plenty tonight,” Spike told James, indicating Mary, “I have my cell, keep an ear to the ground. If anyone tries to move in while I’m gone I’m only a few hours away.”

James nodded again. Xander wondered if the man still had his tongue.

“Should be back in a couple days,” Spike said to the silent James while tugging Xander to his feet. He took the duffle from James and then they were moving at a good pace out the door and to the street where Spike’s Desoto waited. Xander climbed into the passenger seat without protest. Spike seemed in a hurry to be gone and this suited him fine.

Spike put something loud and raucous into the stereo and was merrily singing along to it. With that as musical accompaniment Xander tried to plan his next move. It didn't take very long. It wasn't so much that he didn't have the ability to plan, but he was struck again by his utter powerlessness in the situation. He had a pretty good idea that, however much he and Deadboy hated each other, he wouldn't leave him in Spike's hands. That being said he wouldn't trade someone else for his release, not that Xander would want him to. He had no idea what else Spike might accept in trade and asking him might weaken Angel's bargaining position. He hated playing the damsel in distress but he was just as helpless as any heroine in a dime store romance.

Turning his attention to the landscape streaming past he noticed they were on the I-5 heading south. At least he presumed the road sign was still accurate. Spike had ejected his first CD and was sorting through a stack looking for another. It seemed an opportune moment for conversation. It might encourage Spike to return his eyes to the road.

"What did you mean when you told James to keep his ear to the ground?" Now seemed like the best time to get questions answered, in a few hours he wouldn't have an opportunity.

Spike stopped fumbling with the CDs and glanced at Xander as if he was considering whether or not to respond. Apparently deciding that the conversation didn't need a soundtrack he turned back to the road. "I'm leaving my territory undefended taking this trip. None of the other masters know I'm gone but if they figure it out they might make a move."

Xander was horrified at this deadpan delivery of dire consequences. He flashed back to Mary's description of what happened to masterless households. Once again, it seemed, his actions had put the humans in Spike's care in jeopardy. "Master, I, I didn't realize, maybe it would be a better idea to send him a message …"

Spike gave a humorless laugh. "No Pet, what Peaches and I have to discuss has to be handled face to face. Don't worry, James is more than capable of manufacturing my presence for a couple days, if that fails he'll call. With luck I'll get home before much damage is done."

"But…"

"It's decided, Pet," Spike said with finality, "leave it be."

And that was the end of that conversation.

Xander cast about for something else to talk about, something that, with luck, would take the grim expression off of Spike's face. Back home he and Spike had been united on one topic, their mutual hatred of all things Angel. Best to ditch him as a topic then.

"Have you ever had Mary fix you a blooming onion?" he asked as inspiration struck.

Spike turned to him with an eyebrow around his hairline but it had removed the unhappy expression and initiated a long rambling conversation where Xander listed every human food Spike had ever raved over and his reasons for liking it while Spike laughed over the selections and commented on the practicality of various options.

Many miles later, when Spike had returned to listening to a Ramones CD while Xander watched the passing landscape, a herd of cattle caught his attention. In a moment of clarity he realized why the humans of this reality were kept naked. It was simple really. Animals didn't wear clothes. Humans were not the top of the food chain, that place belonged to the vampires. It had always been true, the opening of the Hellmouth had merely brought the fact out into the open. Once realized Xander found himself strangely content with the fact, like he'd just worked out the punchline of a joke months after it had been told.

They parked outside the hotel Angel had taken over while dawn was still hours away. Xander was about to leap out of the car when Spike’s hand restrained him.

"Not so fast, Pet.” Spike kept a tight hold on the leash while he spoke. "This is it, right? You don't have any other old mates you're going to want to look up?"

Without any hesitation Xander shook his head. If Angel didn't take him in he was out of options. No one else had a prayer of being in any position to help him. He really doubted he had anything to gain by lying. Spike seemed satisfied and they went into the lobby of the old hotel.

"Why Spike!” Angel exclaimed from the staircase, sauntering down to join them. “You've brought me a present.”

“That I have." Spike's tone held no warmth and Xander wondered what was going through his mind.

Xander noted Angel’s leather pants with trepidation, but this wouldn’t be the first time Angel had put on a show. Angel's attention seemed riveted to Xander as he started a slow circle around him. Xander didn’t dare turn with him. “Willow wanted to look for you but the whole place was coming apart so I told her I saw you die. Came up with a real heroic death,” he sneered. “Good thing too. We lost Jenny before we even made it out of Sunnydale, but Cordy and Willow made it here.”

Xander was having trouble catching his breath. "Willow's here? And Cordy?" he said with rising hope. Even if Angel didn’t bargain him away from Spike it was all worth it to know they were safe. But Angel was far from finished.

“Well, that's the thing," Angel said, with mocking solicitousness. "We set up here for a few years, took in strays, kept them safe like a good little tortured soul.” Angel made himself comfortable on the nearest couch and waved to Spike to come join him. Spike pulled Xander closer to him. Xander was straining too hard to hear the voice of either girl in some upstairs room to notice.

When Angel spoke again he had Xander’s full attention. “After things settled down, we all started to relax. Cordy always had a thing for Soul Boy. He put her off for two damn years, mooning over his lost slayer. But she got him in the end.”

The bottom fell completely out of Xander’s stomach. He didn’t need the confirming statement but it came anyway in a soft, pleasant voice. “And then she got me,” Angelus gloated.

Xander closed his eyes. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be here anymore. He certainly didn’t want to hear the little tale Angelus was so anxious to tell.

“So that gypsy curse had an escape clause, eh?” Spike asked, pushing Xander slightly behind him. Xander was far too numb to bother resisting.

“Yep.” Angelus put his hands behind his head and leaned back on the couch and returned his attention to Xander. “Had some time to make up for then. First thing I did was tell Willow I hadn’t seen you at all the night the Hellmouth opened. When she realized she'd left you behind it took the fight right out of her. Then I tied her up and gave her a demonstration of what she had coming. Cordelia had a great scream but she couldn’t cry like Willow.”

Xander wanted to curl up and die where he stood. She had been alive and he hadn’t looked for her. He’d found a fucking shoe and just given up. His self-loathing took second place only to the consuming need to make Angelus pay.

“I tell you, my boy,” Angelus flowed off the couch like a snake and stalked towards them. “You’ve brought me a marvelous present. I thought this one was dead years ago. I plan to take my time with him.”

Xander felt Spike’s hand pressed against his chest as Spike pushed him further behind him. “You're not going to take anything else away from me.”

Angelus’ grin grew vicious. “I’ve got a score to settle with this brat. So get out of my way like a good boy.”

Xander didn’t have to see Spike’s face to know a feral grin decorated it when he said. “Make me.”

That was all it took for the two vampires to go at each other. It was a mismatch from the start, Spike had more grace and speed but Angelus’ size and power made his blows more devastating. It wasn’t long before Spike was spitting blood. "Bloody bastard! Your blood could have saved Dru, but you wouldn't lift a finger. Didn't care. She was your childe and you let her die!" Anguish laced Spike's voice while he tried to pound his grandsire's face in.

"She was a broken toy," Angelus snarled back. "The mad bitch sure as hell wasn't worth risking being dusted over. One thing me and Soul boy agree on."

The insult to Drusilla seemed to drive Spike mad. He charged Angelus, screaming in rage, only to be caught by a meaty fist on the chin. He flew back into the wall with a shattering of plaster.

“You never learn, do you, William? Guess I’m just going to have to beat it into you again.” Spike was now too weak to deflect the blows as they rained down.

Watching the beating Spike was taking enraged Xander. Sure, Spike had made his life deeply unpleasant but against Angelus there was no question who he was rooting for. If Spike died any chance of revenge, never mind survival, died with him. With that in mind, he searched for something to use as a stake. He wanted to douse his own sense of failure by drenching Angelus in it and setting fire to him if possible. Roasting marshmallows over his blazing corpse had an exhilarating appeal. So it was with a growing sense of frustration that his search came up empty.

A look told him that the fight was lost. Spike was limp in the older vampire’s grip. A wave of numbness overtook him as he realized Spike might be dust in the next few seconds, not only because he’d be left alone to face the protracted torture session Angelus had scheduled for him, but because Spike represented the last shreds of his old life left to him. There was comfortable familiarity to Spike even with the less enjoyable aspects.

In the absence of the crossbow he wished he could shoot across the room, he shouted, “You’re a miserable coward! He expected too much of you, Deadboy!”

Well, he had his attention now. Spike's unconscious form was dropped and Angelus wheeled on Xander who pulled himself to his feet, he wanted to look the monster in the eye while he spoke his last words. "You left the girl you supposedly loved to face the Master by herself. I bet you ran out of Sunnydale so fast you were invisible."

He didn’t bother struggling when he was lifted off his feet, a grip as hard and implacable as death, only not so bony, around his throat. Struggling would be useless and he didn’t want to give Angelus the satisfaction of watching him squirm.

"I'm going to make you last for days," Angelus hissed in his face. "We'll see who's the coward when you're begging for mercy."

If he could goad Angelus into killing him now he'd deprive him of his fun and games. It looked like the only revenge he was likely to get. "I won't beg you," he choked out. "You're too pathetic to scare me."

Xander was slammed into the floor. If he lived long enough his entire back would be bruised. "How about I show you what I did to Willow," Angelus asked in a sickeningly pleasant voice. "Think I might hear some begging then?"

Years of fury came spilling out of Xander as he tried to push away the terrifying image. This was a case where he was almost certain his imagination couldn’t keep pace with the demented cruelty of reality. "Think you're a big man with your billowy coat and pretty face? You weren't worthy to lick Buffy's shoes." A slap snapped his head back but didn't still the rush of words. "In a stand up fight she'd send you straight to hell. You're a sneak thief. All schemes and mind games you're …"

The look of utter astonishment on the brunet vampire’s face as it disintegrated stilled the words as his fists could not. Behind the cloud of dust stood Spike, a stake clutched in his left hand.

A maelstrom of emotions threatened to overwhelm Xander. The murdering bastard was gone and that evoked a wave of gratitude with a strange little eddy of disappointment that it was over so quickly. The self-loathing evoked by the realization that he had left Willow to die crashed against the relief that his own death was no longer eminent. He wanted to scream, to dance a jig in Deadboy’s dust, to vomit until he turned inside out, to cry himself dry with grief. He wanted to do so many conflicting things that he was unable to move at all. Questions about what the next step should be swirled through his brain in a dizzy confusion.

A cool hand on his shoulder pulled him out of the whirlpool that was trying to suck him down. Spike looked at him with lust-soaked eyes, his desire evident in his too-tight jeans. Slayers weren’t the only ones who got horny after a fight it seemed. The simple carnality of Spike’s desire snapped his brain into a new pathway. His feelings on the matter were irrelevant. The next step wasn’t his to decide because he was owned. Spike could grant him safety or swift death at his pleasure, he determined Xander’s place and purpose. It was a strangely giddy and calming sensation being someone else’s responsibility.

“Thank you Master,” he breathed, not sure if he meant it more for killing Angelus or quieting the screaming in his head. It didn’t matter: he knew what his master wanted and it was his place to satisfy him. The idea didn’t repel him anymore. He dug his chin into Spike's groin. The moan that issued from the chest above him inspired a repeat.

No further encouragement was needed for Spike's hands to start tearing at his fly. Xander reached up and took over undoing the buttons until Spike's cock sprang free. As he gripped the base tightly in one hand he gradually slid his lips over the head. It was a brand new sensation and it was something he'd done a hundred times. The Xander who had been Spike's pet for four years knew exactly what to do and was given free reign. Swirling his tongue under the foreskin produced a moan that filled him with satisfaction. His free hand dancing along Spike's balls and perineum produced a full body shudder. He could practically time the gasp as he tilted his head, relaxed his throat and swallowed him down, amazed at how powerful he felt, on his knees, Spike's fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. A swirl of tongue in just the right spot, pressure and then suction judiciously applied and he could make Spike incoherent. Under perfect circumstances he could make a session like this last for hours. But the tremor in Spike's legs wasn't solely due to what Xander was doing to him and his own aches and pains were beginning to make themselves felt, so he stepped up the pace. Swallowing while Spike's cock hit the back of his throat he felt Spike shudder and roar as he came. Xander swallowed him down greedily, enjoying the heady sensation of having pulled Spike's orgasm out of him. When Xander met his eyes Spike smiled as if he'd just gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas as he helped Xander to his feet.

Part Six

They headed upstairs, keeping an ear out for any minions that might be lurking. They poked through several rooms until they stumbled across what seemed to be Angelus' bedroom. The euphoria of the fight and the sex were fading and Spike had begun to sag. Once they searched the bedroom for unwelcome guests Spike pulled a lump out of his coat that he slammed onto the door. "Obsero" he incanted and a shimmer like heat lightening went over the door.

"Wizard lock," Spike explained. "Should keep us nice and private."

Xander nodded as he helped him out of his coat and over to the bed. He knew the three steps of undead first aid all too well. He ripped Spike's ruined t-shirt down the middle and eased it off his shoulders then started feeling along his ribcage for misaligned bones. Anything broken had to be set before the healing kicked in, follow with blood and rest and you had a healthy vampire again. He suspected a few of the ribs were cracked but none seemed to be actually broken and all his insides remained reassuringly on the inside. Although the angry, red slashes across his torso would have needed stitches had he been human.

He was about to search the bathroom for something to use for first aid supplies when Spike gripped his shoulders. He found himself pivoted onto the bed and pinned beneath the vampire as sharp teeth sank into his shoulder. This was no seductive tasting, it was white hot agony as he was devoured in greedy gulps. A cut off scream escaped his throat, there was no one to hear and certainly no help to be had, which resolved itself into quiet whimpering. Pinned by the vampire's weight and gripped by the teeth buried deep in his flesh and the ruthless grip of cold fingers on his biceps he felt himself grow weaker. Just as he felt sure he was on the edge of passing out Spike pulled away, his mouth smeared with blood, his blood.

"Now that hits the spot," he said with a grin. Then he drew his fangs lightly over his wrist and pressed it to Xander's mouth.

Xander got a few swallows down before the wound closed. Apparently, today was not a good day to die.

"Get some sleep, Pet." Spike shoved him over and under the covers. "We'll raid Peaches fortress tomorrow." Then stripped down and crawled under the covers for stage three of vampire healing.

Hours later Xander awoke in the enormous four poster bed and stretched carefully so as not to awake his bed partner. He noted that his memories were once again tangled together. He was unsure if he'd been in this reality for months or years. He supposed he could unravel the memories again with some effort but there didn't seem much point. He idly noted that he was unchained, but really, where was there to go now? His eyes fell on his bedmate and he found himself staring. Master lay on his stomach, his lashes dark crescents on a snowy cheek, his lips slightly parted in sleep, the covers pooled around his waist revealing a long expanse of flawless, alabaster skin. He looked like a work of art. Or a fallen angel.

Some deep part of him was outraged at his rough treatment the previous night but mostly he just accepted it as part of his role here. He was inextricably bound to the vampire lying next to him, a fact he decided he was through fighting. It was pointless and could be devastating to the humans of Master's household. Besides, in this cockamamie world there were worse fates. As if awakened by Xander watching him Master's eyes flew open. He took in Xander's appreciative gaze and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Morning Pet," he purred leaning over to run his fingers through Xander's no doubt tangled hair. Catching a quick look at his watch he rolled out of bed and stretched. His stomach and chest were marred by a few streaks of dried blood but the wounds had all sealed over. "No time for fun and games today," he said as he began searching for his clothes. He tossed the ruined shirt aside but tugged on the jeans.

There was a nervous energy to him, like sitting still might be physically painful. "I don't like leaving my territory unguarded. Let's check this mausoleum out, take what we want and be on our way. When I get you home I plan to give you a very thorough seeing to."

He placed a hand on the lump he'd stuck to the door and incanted, "Apertus" and the lump dropped into his hand.

No welcoming committee awaited them outside the door. The place gave every indication of being deserted. At the edge of the sunlit lobby Xander was handed the keys to the Desoto. "Get the bag, I'll be in here," Master said as he walked to a pair of big, double doors.

Xander walked out into the sunlight, squinting against the glare. The big black car crouched in front of him. He stared at the keys in his hand for a few seconds as the possibilities ran through his mind. And then he obeyed his master's orders.

In the kitchen he was fed fruit and cheese from the rather meager stores of human food they found.

After that, Master found the larder by the simple expedient of following the smell of blood. Mangled bodies, barely alive, were tied in grotesque patterns in one room. "Always fancied himself a fuckin' artist," Master grumbled as he dispatched the victims while Xander attempted to hold onto his breakfast.

Five terrified people were locked in the next room. They shrank away from Master whimpering in terror. He rolled his eyes at them and announced, "I've killed your master. Any of you lot want to join my larder come with, otherwise I leave you here to fend for yourself." Then he turned to Xander and explained, "I'm going to check the place for minions, I'll be back." Then he turned away leaving the door open behind him.

Xander was forcibly reminded of Mary's explanation of what happened to a masterless household and tried to coax the cowering prisoners to come with them. "Master Spike's not so bad," he found himself telling them, then amended, "Well, he's better than Angelus."

This less than rousing endorsement failed to reduce the terror in their eyes as they pressed themselves against the far wall.

He approached them with his hands out in what he hoped was a calming manner. "My name's Xander, who're you?"

Evidently that was a sufficiently nonthreatening question to be answered and each one gave him their name in a near whisper.

Thus encouraged he renewed his appeal. "Listen, I'm Master Spike's pet," he was a little amazed at being able to say that without cringing. "It's my job to keep him happy and I'm sort of good at it. So if you come with us I promise to keep him on an even keel, I'll keep you safe."

With that promise Xander knew he was embracing his purpose in Master's household, a job only he could do. True, that job consisted of keeping Master entertained, but wasn't that the sort of job he'd always done? Without the kinky sexual angle that is. And lives depended on it.

He spent hours calming Angelus' traumatized larder. Master checked in to assure him that no minions appeared to be lurking about. Then informed him, "I'm going up to take a shower and get changed. See if you can get this lot sorted, sunset's in one hour."

In the end, three out of the five piled into the back seat of the old Desoto when Master loaded what he wanted from the place in the trunk. The last two opted to take their chances.

The transfer of ownership turned out to be very simple. Master snapped the lock holding the chain collar closed then refastened each one with a padlock bearing his own insignia. Xander ran his fingers over his own, more unique, collar. Feeling it's weight against his throat was oddly reassuring.

He spent most of the ride home with his head in Master's lap, and it didn't feel strange at all.

Epilogue

Sounds too thick and liquid to be called screams assaulted him. All he could see was red: red wounds, red, red hair. Blood coated the walls, the floor, spattered across the ceiling and it was getting deeper. He was sinking into the warm, sticky lake of it; drowning in a roiling sea of it. Just before he sank down the last time he saw her eyes boring into him, pushing him under with their accusation.

“Willow!” he screamed as his mouth filled.

“Xander.”

The voice pulled him to the surface and he found himself in bed with Spike shaking him vigorously. “Master?”

“Thank fuck that’s over,” Spike growled, releasing him.

Xander immediately averted his eyes. “I’m sorry I woke you, Master.”

Powerful arms snaked around his waist and drew him tight against his master’s chest. “S’all right, Pet. Want to tell me about it?”

Xander shook his head.

“Do it anyway,” Spike commanded softly. Spike’s right hand pushed his head back until his head rested on a pale shoulder and his face nuzzled into his neck. Meanwhile Spike’s left hand stoked from breastbone to groin in a soothing motion.

Xander swallowed, trying to clear the cotton out of his throat as he relaxed into the embrace. “What Angelus did to Willow.” He really hoped that would be enough.

“Shh!” Spike whispered into his hair. “Bastard’s dust. Can’t hurt you or your little playmate any more.”

Xander gave Spike’s collarbone a tentative lick. “Thank you, Master.”

Spike ignored the thanks. “Let’s see if we can’t put more interesting thoughts in your head.” With that one hand began playing over his claim scar and the other danced lightly along his half-hard shaft. Xander mouthed along Spike’s collarbone as he moaned and his hands fisted into the sheets.

“That’s right lovely,” Spike purred. “When I’m done you won’t remember your own name, let alone bad dreams.”

Xander arched into Spike’s light grip, seeking a firmer touch. Spike moved with him, keeping his touch feather light. He continued his torturous touches until he had Xander writhing mindlessly against him. Then Xander found himself being lowered back onto the bed and opened eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed. Spike reached into the nightstand and pulled out the wrist restraints.

Automatically, Xander raised his hands above his head, eager to feel the soft leather against his skin. It took only a few seconds to secure the cuffs and run the chain through the bars in the headboard. Xander pulled on the restraints just to feel them press into his flesh.

Xander found himself arranged across Spike’s lap where he was easily held down with one hand while slick fingers teased his entrance.

A soft knock at the door caused Spike to look up but not stop his attentions. “What is it?”

“Master, do you require anything?” James’ incredibly proper voice came through the door.

Spike ran his fingers over Xander’s cock and balls contemplatively. “Enter,” he called out and slid two slick fingers into Xander.

James slipped inside and stood beside the bed with hands clasped behind his back. By the look on his face Spike could just as easily have been knitting as driving Xander into a mindless frenzy of need. Actually, knitting might have surprised even James.

Spike absentmindedly stroked Xander’s prostate while he spoke. “I want you to find Samantha. Tell her to cook up a memory spell. My pet has had his last bad dream.”

Xander tried to wrest coherency out of his fragmented thoughts. Spike was casually discussing robbing him of his memories. Would he be essentially expunged, leaving only the memories of the Xander from this reality? Even more disturbing, was that a bad thing? His opinion was not sought, and he was presently incapable of expressing it.

James weighed his response very carefully. “A precise spell will take time, otherwise memories you wish to keep could be excised.”

Spike’s faced turned back to Xander’s lust addled face. With predictable impatience he said, “But he’s hurting.” Then he stroked across Xander’s prostate in such a way to assure that pain was the furthest thing from Xander’s mind.

“A sleep draught could assure dreamless sleep, until the spell is perfected,” James suggested.

Briefly, Xander thought Spike ought to turn James in the next few years because he surely would never be able to run the household without him. Then all rational thought was stolen as Spike began twisting his fingers inside him.

“See to it,” Spike said as if he had just issued an order.

James inclined his head in acknowledgement and turned to leave. He wasn’t all the way to the door before Spike shifted between Xander’s legs and began pressing his way in.

Xander was pleading to be allowed to cum but he wasn’t sure if he was getting more than “please” and “Master” out of his mouth and the intelligibility of even those words was in serious doubt.

“No one gets to hurt you but me, Pet.” Spike punctuated each word with a deep thrust. “Not even you.”

Xander moaned out something he hoped served as agreement.

It must have satisfied Spike because after three more deep, hard thrusts he said, “You may cum.”

Xander exploded, spasming with the force of his orgasm. Moments later Spike found his own release. When Spike pulled out Xander collapsed into a sated puddle in the middle of the bed. He gazed up into Spike’s eyes, which burned with fierce possession, and smiled. He trusted Spike to take care of him.

The End