Elegantly Wasted

Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five  Part Six

Part One

Spike sighed as he stared out the window. Bloody hell, the entire point of California was that it didn't rain. But here it was, pissing down outside. He hated rain, he hated being wet and miserable. There was no way he was going outside tonight. But he was hungry, starving in fact. But he didn't want to hunt, not in this weather. Smirking, he stalked over to the phone. Gods, it was great to be back in civilization. All the comforts of home, yours for the asking. Satellite dish, fast cars, faster women. And delivery services for anything you wanted. He dialed the number Dru handed to him the night after he came home. He drummed his fingers on the window sill, waiting for the answer.

"Trussler's Topiary, how may we help you?" The cultured voice was sweet on the other end.

"Yes, I need to speak with John please. This is Spike, I'm a friend of Angelus." Spike tapped his foot, impatient with these little games.

"Yes sir, I'll put you right through." The dreaded Muzak played for only a moment before another uptown voice picked up the line.

"Master Spike, it is a pleasure to speak with you. Angelus informed me that you were back in Los Angeles." Honey practically dripped from the phone and Spike simply rolled his eyes.

"Look, mate, let's can the crap, shall we? I was wondering if you had anything for me." Spike reached over and starting spinning his pack of cigarettes round and round.

"Certainly, Master. Whatever you wish. We recently acquired a nice AB negative. I think you would enjoy it. Male, in his early twenties. Not too used and I've had nothing but compliments concerning his willingness." John flipped through his appointment book, making sure the boy he sought was free. "As luck has it, he's in Century City at the moment. I could have him to you in approximately 45 minutes."

"I don't want sloppy seconds," Spike growled out, interest piqued. AB negative wasn't that easy to find.

"No, no, nothing like that. He's there on, other business, shall we say? With a human. Do you need him only for blood or would you prefer he stay longer?" John let a small smile cross his face. Ah, yes, another client. And this one would be a good one if the stories he heard were true.

"No, just a meal. Trust me, mate. I don't have to pay for it. How much?" Spike flicked his lighter, watching the flame appear and disappear. He was bored with the conversation and just wanted it over.

"Let's see, usually he's $1,000 a visit, but, due to your status and relationship with Angelus, I'll make it $750 for you." John leaned back, ready for the negotiations.

"Bullshit, he's $1,000 a visit. $500 and that's it. And I expect him here in half an hour." Spike's let a growl drop into his voice, just for the hell of it. If the tosser was used to dealing with Angelus, then he would know better than to haggle any further.

"Certainly, Master. He'll be there in half an hour. Are you staying with Master Angelus?" John's hand quivered slightly. It would pay to remember how Spike earned his name.

"Fuck, no. I'm in Hollywood. Right off Hollywood and Vine. Give your driver my number and I'll give him directions when he gets close." Spike wasn't about to simply give out his address.

"Fine, then how would you like to pay this evening, cash or credit?" The smoothness was back in John's voice now that all that was left was the final details.

"Credit. Amex." Spike rattled off the number, trying to remember which account this card was tied to. Not that it really mattered.

"Thank you, Master. We look forward to your business. Call should you have any other needs. We have a nice set of twins. . ."

Spike slammed the phone down and resumed his pacing before the window. Staying with his Sire indeed. He snorted at that. He hadn't even seen the wanker since he got back from Paris. He supposed he should go tomorrow night before he got sent for. That never went well. He shuddered slightly, remembering the whipping he received the last time he ignored his duties to his Sire. Ever since Angelus lost his soul again, what was it, Spike squinted through the smoke, three year, four years, ago, he was more vicious than ever. And with Dru and Darla back, it was taking all of Spike's ability to keep from being sucked back into their happy family.

At least Angelus got the fucking chip out for him. Spike sighed again, sucking the smoke deep into his lungs. He would never be able to repay that debt. He grinned slightly, remembering in perfect detail the shock on the doctor's face when Spike rose from the table and sank his fangs into the man's neck. Stupid git, who else did he think Spike was going to try it out on? Of course, Angelus thought that he could simply command Spike as he had in the old days. No fucking way, mate, Spike thought as he moved away from the glass. No fucking way. Too much water under that bridge. At least he had gotten the fuck away from Sunnydale before the shit went down. He heard rumors that the Slayer had basically gone insane when she found out that Angel had fallen off the soul wagon again. No one went there any more. It was a one way ticket to death.

Spike paced the length of the living room, casting a cold eye on the belongings. He hadn't lived here for two years and the air was still a little stale, even with the windows being open whenever he was here. Two years since he took off for Paris, unable to watch as Angelus flaunted Dru before him. Fuck, some things truly never changed. Dru stilled loved Daddy best. It was best for them all that he took off. Patricide never went over well. But even Paris had palled and he had come crawling back once again. He never could stay away long.

The trill of his cell phone pulled him out of his reverie. "Yeah," he snarled out.

"Sir, I was told to call for directions."

"Right, where are you," Spike felt a faint stir of anticipation. Dru had spoken highly of the quality of the humans this service used.

"On Hollywood, near the intersection with Vine."

"Turn onto Vine, go straight three blocks, another right. Straight two blocks. Right again. Straight half a mile. I'm in the large building on the left. Fourth floor. Buzz when he gets here and I'll let him up. Give us fifteen minutes then I'll let him out." He snapped the phone shut and moved over, turning on a few low lamps. He wanted to see his meal.

Fifteen minutes passed and Spike started to snarl, cursing L.A. traffic. The buzz of the intercom interrupted his silent tirade. He checked the surveillance camera. There, a man in a Trussler Topiary uniform and someone else. He pressed the button, unlocking the door. Another minute or so, then he heard the elevator doors open. A slow stride down the short hallway, then a soft knock echoed in the hall.

Spike opened the door, gesturing the man in with a brief toss of his head. The man moved in slowly, head down, water dripping from his dark hair. Spike led the man deeper into the living room, frowning faintly. There was something familiar about the man's scent. He stopped when they reached a pool of light cast by the tall lamp next to the leather sofa.

"Right, mate. Let's have a look at you."

The man slowly raised his head and Spike took an involuntary step backwards.

"Xander," he breathed out. "What the fuck?" He leapt backwards, waiting for the stake to appear.

Xander looked at him, eyes squinting shut as he tried to concentrate. That voice, that voice was familiar. "Spike, oh, hi." He let his head drop back down, shrugging out of his jacket as he did so. "Um, can I put this somewhere, I don't want to drip on your couch."

Spike took a step forward, shocked by the flat tone of Xander's voice. "Xander?" He stepped closer, stunned by how Xander simply stood there, coat in his hand. Spike reached out, taking the coat and draping it over a chair.

"Yeah, umm, so, what do you want, arm or neck? We usually aren't supposed to offer our neck, but I was told to give you whatever you want." Xander's head remained down and the flat tone of his voice never changed.

"Fuck, Xander, what the hell are you playing at? Slayer's here, isn't she? I knew she'd come for Angelus someday. Shit." Spike started to pace, trying to remember where he kept his gun. He hadn't had to use it in years, not since he was able to hunt again, but he still kept it around nonetheless.

A look of confusion crossed Xander's face. "No, the Slayer's not here. Why would she be here?" Xander unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his neck. "So, Spike, which side would you like?"

Spike just stared at him, stunned. There was something very, very wrong here. He moved forward, reaching out and shaking Xander slightly. "Xander, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Xander just let Spike shake him, not responding in the slightest. Spike abruptly let go and Xander fell to the floor. Xander simply picked himself up and resumed his position in front of Spike. Silence fell and they simply stood there, Spike staring at Xander, Xander staring at the floor. The silence was suddenly interrupted by the beeping as Xander's pager went off. He automatically reached down and checked the message.

"Spike, I have to go in a few minutes. So, can we please just get this over with?" For the first time, Xander looked into Spike's face. Spike sucked in a breath as he looked up at Xander. A huge scar crossed from Xander's right temple, through his eyebrow, straight down his cheek, continuing down Xander's neck and disappearing under the edge of his shirt. But that wasn't what shocked Spike the most. It was his eyes. They were glassy and absolutely dead. Nothing like the humorous, life filled manchild Spike remembered.

"Xander, what the hell happened to you?" Spike reached out again, trying to suppress a growl as Xander flinched slightly.

"Look, I have to get going, please, just, take what you want." Xander's head dropped back down and he resumed studying the floor.

"Bloody hell." Spike just stared until Xander finally took a step back.

"I'm sorry, but I have to leave now. I'm sorry." Xander picked up his coat and turned and walked out the door. Spike just stared after him, shocked speechless.

Spike hunched in the corner of the alley, keeping his prey firmly in his view. It had been a week since he began hunting for Xander and he finally found him earlier in the night. He caught Xander coming out of a small apartment complex in West Hollywood and he had been following the man ever since. All that was clear was that Xander wasn't working this evening, and Spike followed behind as Xander blended into the crowd. At first it appeared that he was merely wandering around, looking into windows and stopping occasionally to talk to someone. No, Spike shook his head, Xander never stopped to talk to anyone. Rather, people stopped Xander and he would talk to them. Otherwise, Xander just kept walking. That was the other thing Spike noticed. Xander had a slight limp. It wasn't very noticeable, but it was there. What the hell happened in the five years since Spike took off from Sunnydale?

Xander's apparently casual wandering had finally led him here to this dank alley. Spike watched as Xander took a quick glance both ways, then made his way into the darkness. Spike growled slightly as he watched. Surely the boy knew better than that. Hadn't all those years on the Hellmouth taught him anything? But Xander kept his head down and Spike followed, hanging back in the shadows. He watched now as Xander approached a man leaning against the wall of one of the buildings. A few quick words that Spike was too far away to hear, then Xander reached out a hand. Spike hissed. He didn't need to be any closer to see what just happened. He knew a buy when he saw one. He ducked back out in the crowd as Xander came back, his steps slightly faster now. Xander didn't look up as he made his way back to his apartment. Spike followed behind him, determined to discover the truth.

Spike settled down on the fire escape, blessing the god of poorly constructed building for this view into Xander's apartment. He doubted Xander realized that anyone sitting on the fire escape right across the alley had a perfect view into his bedroom. He watched as Xander tossed his coat onto the bed, then stripped off his shirt. Spike's jaw dropped at the maze of scars running over Xander's chest and back. Ragged, vicious and white, it looked like something had clawed him open over and over and over again. Spike shifted slightly as he watched Xander reach under the bed and pull out a small leather bag. Xander opened the bag and lifted out an ancient hypodermic. Spike went perfectly still, stomach lurching to his throat. "No," the word fell out him as he watched Xander light a small candle. "Dear gods, no." Begging now, as Xander lifted up a bent and battered spoon. "Please, no." Spike felt his world spin out of control as Xander tilted the small package, dumping the powder into the curve of the spoon. Spike watched, desperately wanting to turn away, desperately needing to keep watching. Horrified, he saw Xander stick the tip of the needle into the liquid. He kept watching, sickly fascinated to see where Xander would choose, what vein Xander was going to use. He almost fell off the fire escape when he saw Xander move to the mirror, open his mouth and lift up his tongue. Spike flinched when he saw the needle rise, finally turning his head, unable to watch as the needle pierced Xander's tongue. He dropped from the fire escape and took off at a run, needing to kill, needing to rip and rend flesh, needing to find and destroy whoever sold Xander that shit.

He had been following Xander for nearly a month now. Xander's schedule was the same the entire time. Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday Xander went on out calls, going anywhere from four to seven places a night. It was clear that the clientele was varied. Men, women, a few groups, some vampires. Different things for each client. Spike remembered clearly the feeling of shock when he realized that Xander was selling his body as well as his blood. He still couldn't believe that the Scooby Gang was letting this happen. It was only five years, surely things couldn't have fallen apart that badly. Hells, that little gang was inseparable. That was the secret of their strength. Something must have gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Monday and Wednesday appeared to be Xander's days off. And each night Xander shot up. Spike never saw him do so on the other nights, but it was clear that some of his human clients appeared to drug him as well. The vampires would never allow that, they didn't want anything tainting their blood. He also noticed how thin Xander was, how pale. Xander always had a healthy glow before. Now, he looked like another denizen of the night, his skin pale, his hair matted down, his eyes so dead. In the entire time that Spike followed the boy, he never once heard Xander laugh, never once saw him smile.

Spike shifted slightly on the hood of his car, watching the window through which he could just faintly see movement. Something bothered him about this one, something just seemed very, very wrong. There was a glint in the man's eye that Spike didn't like one bit. He recognized that look, it was the one that came to Angelus' eye, right before the whip ripped through his flesh. No, he was staying right here, fuck it if he was in plain view. Spike stared at the stars, trying once again to sort through his emotions. Why was he wasting his time like this? Why was he following Xander? It wasn't just the strangeness of the situation, though there was that. It wasn't even that he was still slightly convinced that Xander showing up at his door was a setup. No, it was the look in Xander's eyes. Or, more accurately, the absence of any look in Xander's eyes. Those eyes were completely dead. Those beautiful, beautiful brown eyes that used to cut Spike to his very core. Truth be told, those eyes were the main reason he left Sunnydale. He could no longer stand to see the hate and pain in those eyes directed at him every night. Not when he wanted something else to be reflected there. But now those eyes were dead.

Spike nearly fell off the hood of the car, he turned so fast when the screaming began. He took off at a dead run, automatically shifting to gameface as the shrieking continued. It was Xander, he knew it in his bones. Xander screaming in unimaginable agony. Spike flew over the grass, hurtling headlong into the unknown. He slammed to a stop outside the window, peering through aghast at what he saw. Xander was lying naked on the floor and some man was above him, whipping him unmercifully. Spike heard the sharp crack, crack of the whip and he let out a fierce howl, startling the man inside. Spike slammed his fist into the window, shattering it into a thousand shards. He ignored the pain as the glass sliced open his face, all he cared was that he got Xander out as quickly as possible.

"Invite me in." He hissed at the man staring at him through the window. With a cold smile, Spike picked up a shard of glass and hurled it through the hole. His aim was true, and the glass sank deep into the man's thigh. "Invite me in." He screamed louder, desperate for Xander to hear.

"Spike," Xander coughed out, turning his bloody face to the window. He had to be hallucinating. That was it. "Come in." With that, he collapsed back to the floor.

Spike leapt through the window, stalking straight to the cowering man in the corner.

"I'm quite sure this isn't what you told them you were hiring him for. Too bad, I know a few places that could have sent you a nice plaything. But this one is mine." Spike reached down and pinned the struggling man to the wall by the throat. "Yes, this is mine. And I don't like people hurting my toys." He yanked the glass from the man's leg and tossed it across the room. "So, you like to whip. Let me tell you, hurts like hell. Think it's time you found out."

He dropped the man, hearing the body crash to the floor. Spike reached down and picked up the whip, quickly testing the tension in the leather with an expert flick of his wrist. It was a good piece, finely balanced, tapering down to a fine point designed to rip open the flesh of whatever it touched. Spike lashed out, lancing the first cut across the shivering man's face.

"Just a taste of what's coming." Spike let loose in a cold-blooded rage, quickly stripping the clothes off the man. Lash after lash rained down, until the body at his feet was a mass of flayed skin and open wounds. Blood coated the wall and bits of flesh were scattered around the room. Hearing the man's heartbeat begin to fade, Spike reached down and yanked the man into his lap.

"It's over now. You picked the wrong man to harm." Spike sank his fangs into the man's neck and drained him in one quick pull. He tossed the body aside, then knelt next to Xander's still form. Xander had passed out about ten minutes before, and Spike was concerned that he was still unconscious. He gathered the still form in his arms, then carefully left through the window. He practically ran back to the car, stunned again by how thin Xander was. Xander's every rib showed plain through the torn skin. He settled Xander on the back seat, covered him with a blanket he pulled from the trunk, then sped off, tossing quick glances in the rearview mirror as he did so. No one was following them. No police were on the scene yet. Spike headed back for his apartment, hands shaking as he lit cigarette after cigarette. He had no idea what he was going to do once they arrived, but one thing was certain. Xander wasn't leaving his side for the foreseeable future.

Part Two

Spike spun the steering wheel with a negligent flick of his wrist as he kept watch on Xander in the rearview mirror. He couldn't tell if Xander was conscious or not and that troubled him deeply. He didn't think that Xander was hurt badly enough to still be unconscious nearly forty minutes later. The bleeding finally stopped about ten minutes ago, for which Spike was truly thankful. The thick, rich scent of Xander's blood was driving him mad. He understood now why Xander was obviously the pride of John's stable. Despite the obvious disaster that was now Xander's life, his blood still smelled pure. Pure and innocent. Spike snorted as he returned his eyes to the road. Innocent and pure. When it was plain that innocence and purity had been ripped from Xander's soul long, long before.

He concentrated on driving, not wanting to waste a second getting Xander inside. The lashes needed to be washed clean, and he desperately wanted to get a good meal into the boy. He made the turn into the alley behind his building, then pulled to a stop, glancing around quickly to make sure that he was alone. Satisfied that no one was lurking in the shadows, he pulled the keys from a pocket, unlocked the padlocks, then rolled back the thick steel door. He hopped back in, then eased the car into the area he was using as a garage. He pulled the door shut, sliding the bolts across, sealing the entrance behind them. He yanked open the rear car door, then stopped, just staring down for a moment. Xander lay on his side, the blanket covering all but a portion of one shoulder and his head. Blood was caked on Xander's lips from the cuts across his face and one eye was starting to swell shut. Spike growled as he looked at the shattered body. The shattered, bloody body. If Xander's body was this destroyed, the gods only knew what his mind must be like.

Spike gently leaned in and gathered Xander in his arms. Xander never moved, never gave one indication that he knew where he was. Spike listened closely as he carried Xander over to the elevator. The heartbeat was there, a little thready, but there. Xander was breathing shallowly, but evenly. Too evenly. He wasn't exactly unconscious, but he wasn't entirely asleep. It was almost as if he were meditating, as if he simply had taken leave of his body for a short time. Spike turned slightly and pushed the button. The elevator doors opened immediately, the car still there from when Spike used it to leave. He pushed the button for the fourth floor, then leaned against the wall, vaguely registering the sound of the gears as they slowly rose.

Once again, his decision to keep the building solely for himself was paying off. Spike stared up as the seconds dragged by. When he decided to remain in L.A., he knew that he had to find his own place, there was no way he could live with Angelus, Dru and Darla once again. Too many memories. Too much hate. His time in Sunnydale changed him more than he cared to admit. He no longer had their taste for senseless violence and vicious games. Not that he was reformed, not by a long shot. He simply recognized the elegance of the small gesture, the purity of only taking what he needed.

Of course, Spike shifted slightly, pulling Xander a little more tightly to his chest, of course, his needs were fairly simple. Enough dosh to be comfortable. A decent place to call home. Booze. Blood. Violence enough to keep him sane. Sex. And now that he was once again whole, he could take what he needed.

The doors opened and Spike paced quickly to his door. He frowned as he realized there was no way he could fish out his keys, open the door and continue to hold Xander at the same time. He reluctantly settled Xander on the floor, checking the tells to see if anyone had bothered the door. No, it didn't appear that anyone was there. He pushed open the door, then stepped inside, going still, concentrating, focusing his senses. He heard nothing, saw nothing, tasted nothing, smelled nothing amiss. He let out a small sigh. Good, his family hadn't decided to pay a surprise visit. There was no way he could hold them all back and there was no way he was letting them near Xander. No way in hell.

Spike carefully picked Xander back up and headed straight for his room. He placed Xander down on the bed then turned for the bathroom. He gathered up some towels, a washcloth and a small bowl. His stomach tightened at the familiarity of it all. How many times had he done this for Dru. How many times had she done the same for him. Angelus loved whips. He always had. Spike could no longer even begin to count the number of times Angelus had reached back a hand and ripped open his flesh. So, kneeling beside the bed and dabbing water down Xander's flayed skin felt like nothing more than coming home. He worked quickly, moving in a steady pattern, back and forth, up and down, teeth clenched the entire time. Gods, he always hated this. He finally stepped back, cocked his head and cast a critical eye over his handiwork. It would do.

He settled on the end of the bed and lit a cigarette. Xander was still motionless, but Spike was no longer quite as worried. The human was breathing evenly and his pulse was even, the heartbeat sounding in the quiet room. Xander was asleep. Spike shifted slightly, then reached out and began running just the tip of a finger down Xander's back, tracing the thick scars that almost completely covered the skin. Definitely claw marks. And more than one creature's marks were there. He remained detached, cataloging the types in his mind, noting how the wounds ranged from huge, long, jagged streaks to thin, short, straight lines. Curiously, the wounds stopped right at the top of Xander's buttocks, the contrast with the smooth skin there serving to render the scars even more shocking. Spike frowned, leaning forward slightly. There was one scar out of place. It ran from the base of Xander's spine straight up to the base of Xander's skull. It looked like a surgical incision.

"What the fuck happened, Xan?" Spike spoke quietly, needing to put sound behind his confusion. "What happened?"

There was no response. Not that Spike expected there to be, not really. Not even if Xander was awake. Xander seemed so lost when Spike watched him, sleep walking through life, interacting only the bare minimum necessary to survive. The vampire stood, moving to stand at the top of the bed. A bitter smile crossed his face as he stared down. How many nights had he stayed awake, picturing just this over and over in his mind. Xander, face down, naked, his for the taking. Somehow in all that time, he never imagined seeing Xander naked for the first time occurring like this.

He moved over to the closet, flicking quickly through the clothes. In the past, there was no way that anything he owned would ever fit Xander. Xander was simply that much larger than he was. Spike shuddered slightly, well, that wasn't a problem now. Xander was so thin that one of Spike's silk shirts would easily fit. Pants, however, pants would be a problem. Xander was still taller than he was. Snarling slightly, Spike pulled open a drawer. Sure enough, a pair of Angelus' pants was there. Spike stared a moment, a huge wave of hatred cresting over him. With a quick shake of his head, he pushed the rage to the side. Angelus still had clothes here, still acted like he was welcome here. Fine. At least they would come to some use now.

Cautiously, he turned Xander over. Xander murmured a little, but didn't wake. Spike efficiently dressed him and then left the room, pulling the door slightly shut. He couldn't stay in there any more, not without shaking Xander awake and demanding answers. And he couldn't do that. He doubted Xander had had a quiet night's sleep in far, far too long. Spike took another look at his bedroom door, then slipped into the hall, locking the door behind him, setting the tells again. He hated to leave like this, but he was starved. And the scent of Xander's blood was still heavy in the air. Spike didn't trust himself to stay much longer. Besides, yellow eyes glittered in the night, he wouldn't be gone long.

The man threw his head back, skull striking the wall of the building behind him. "Oh yeah, like that, just like that, suck me, bitch, c'mon, fucking cunt, that's right." The woman just tuned him out and kept up the steady suction. This guy wouldn't take much longer and then she could get out of this fucking alley. There was a party she wanted to get to and rent was due and she really, really needed to spike first. Well, just a couple minutes more and she could be on her way. And this wasn't so bad. She'd done a lot more on that old mattress right over there.

With a few quick pumps, the man emptied himself in her mouth. She automatically swallowed, then efficiently zipped him back up. She stood, wiping the dirt from her knees and turned, heading back for the street.

"Fucking whore, where do you think you're going?" She ignored the angry words behind her and just kept walking. She had her money, she didn't have to take his shit any more. She let out a strangled yelp as she was suddenly slammed to the ground.

"I said, where do you think you're going? Fucking whore, filthy cunt, hell beast, sending you back to where you belong." Her eyes grew wide as she was flipped onto her back. The man's eyes were pools of raw hate, and she suddenly knew that this was it. This was the moment of her death.

"Sent by Satan himself, strutting your ass up and down like that." A hand swung back and her head reeled as the fist connected with her cheek. "Sent from hell to lead honorable men astray." She tried to scream but the words couldn't get past the hand crushing her throat. "Whore, Jezebel, spawn of Lucifer." She tried to cry, tried to beg, but couldn't, couldn't, not with the world going black. She vaguely realized that a knife was hovering over her face, but she didn't have the strength to care. She waited for the blow to come. This was her fate. Of course it was, it was only a matter of time. She knew how things ended for a woman like her.

A vicious howl startled her out of her haze. She gasped in air as the hand on her throat suddenly gave way. She pushed her way up, staggering as she got to her feet, one of her heels broken.

The man was lying curled into a ball on the ground, a figure clad in black leather kicking him viciously. No words were spoken, but a loud growling echoed in the alleyway. She heard bones crack and blood began to spurt from the man's mouth. A hand reached down and a long piece of metal appeared in a pale hand. It wasn't a knife, the part of her mind that was still functioning informed her, no, it looked more like a railroad spike. She watched, pinned in place as the man was suddenly slammed into the wall. Blood dripped down, coating both men. The pale hand rose and with one smooth motion the stake was slammed into the man's chest. A blond head bent down and she saw the flash of teeth then that head bent down and tore the man's throat open. She doubled over, vomiting uncontrollably as she heard the slurping. It sounded obscenely like the noise she had just been making herself. When she regained a little composure she looked up. An inhuman stare met hers. The blond man tilted his head, then opened blood stained lips.

"Run."

She took off, obeying the command, sprinting into the night.

Spike eased back into the apartment. He glanced over, checking the clock. Good, only twenty minutes since he left. That was one of the things he loved about L.A., there was always someone worthy of death just around the corner. He stuck a head into his room, checking on the figure in his bed. Still asleep. Good. He turned and made his way to the kitchen, flipping on the light as he entered. He managed to feed and still stop and pick up some food on the way back. He opened the refrigerator door, pushing aside the beer to make room for the milk and cream cheese. Xander liked cream cheese on onion bagels. He remembered that from the time he stayed with the boy. Spike stiffened as the memories struck him hard. He closed the refrigerator door, then backed away, moving into to the living room.

He paced in front of the tall windows, ignoring the view, one tiny part of him watching for the first hints of sunrise. When he left Sunnydale he never expected to see any of the Scooby Gang again. That was the point of leaving, really, to get away. To be free from the judgment and the pain. Nothing special happened the night he decided to leave. Just another night of sitting there, listening to them snipe at him, watching as they asked for his help and then threatened his life. Another night of listening to the boy in his bed tell him over and over how much he detested him. But that night it was too much. Too much of everything. Too much of self-doubt and self-loathing. Too much of wistful longing and never to be spoken desires. Too much of being barely tolerated. Too much of waking every day and trying to remember why he didn't walk into the sun. No, nothing special happened that night. It was just that he couldn't stand it for one more moment. Spike leaned against the cool glass of the window. No, nothing special happened at all. Xander simply threw himself onto Spike and pushed him out of the way of a stake Spike never saw in the demon's hand and which would have dusted him if Xander hadn't acted. Xander saved his life. And, for just a moment, Spike thought it was finally over, that Xander, while he may never trust the vampire, at least wouldn't hate him any longer. So after Spike picked himself up and dusted himself off, he turned and asked a simple question.

"Thanks, mate. Didn't see that coming. Buy you a beer?" Spike could see it all in perfect clarity, hear the careful tone in his voice. Just the right combination of gratitude and cockiness.

Xander simply stared back, then turned on his heel and walked away. "No. And just because I wouldn't let something else stake you, doesn't mean we're friends. I just want to make sure I'm the one who finally gets to do it."

Spike tapped his forehead on the glass, the pain of it still fresh, even all these years later. He still couldn't remember going back to his crypt that night. But he did remember his rage, the impotent fury and the howling pain. He remembered gathering up anything he could pawn, then shattering the rest, throwing anything that would break until the crypt was a shambles behind him. Then he got in the DeSoto and left. He never looked back.

But now the past he tried to flee was here in his bed. In his bed, a shattered and beaten shell of what Spike remembered. Something happened. Something desperate and evil happened. Spike pushed his way back from the windows, pulling the heavy drapes shut as he stepped away. Well, there would be plenty of time to find out what happened. Then to hunt down and kill whatever had done this. But, first things first. Right now he needed to sleep. Exhausted, he dropped onto the couch. Right now, sleep. Then feed the boy. Then maybe talk. And shopping. Xander would need some more clothes. And new sheets, they would need new sheets for the spare room. Spike's eyes slipped shut as he sank into the couch.

Xander woke with a start, eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings. He slid out of the bed, heart pounding. Confused, he looked down. He was wearing clothes that he knew weren't his. He stepped back, moving towards the door. Bathroom. This was the bathroom. He glanced in the door quickly. No one there. He listened closely, nothing was moving, it sounded like he was alone. He slid into the bathroom, quickly relieved himself and then washed his hands. He splashed some water on his face, flinching when the liquid hit the cuts. The pain sharpened his mind and suddenly he remembered the night before. Well, some of it. He gingerly unbuttoned the shirt then turned from side to side. The whip marks stood out bright red, brilliant against the white of the old scars. He remembered showing up, getting paid, stripping and dropping to his hands and knees as he was told. Then the pain of the first few lashes. Then nothing. Then, then. Xander looked into the mirror, confused. Then Spike. He shook his head. No, that couldn't be right. Spike couldn't have been there. He must have been hallucinating again. But something happened. Otherwise, how did he get here.

He eased out of the bathroom and cautiously opened the bedroom door. Still no sound. He took a few steps forward then froze, seeing someone on the couch. He stayed perfectly still, waiting for the man to wake. Okay, he must have come to and gone on his next call. Maybe he had been drugged again. It wasn't the first time he came to not remembering the night before. There was no motion from the man on the couch and Xander took another few tentative steps forward. He froze when the man's profile came into view.

"Spike." Xander staggered back, the familiar cheekbones leaving no doubt who was before him. "Spike." His eyes darted around, frantically seeking an escape. He turned, finding the door. He yanked at the knob, trying to flee, unable to pull it open. He shot a frantic glance over his shoulder. Good, Spike was still asleep. He tugged again, trying to calm his frantic breathing. He took a step back and looked the door over. There, three deadbolts, that's why he couldn't open the door. Xander reached up and quickly turned the locks, then yanked the door open and sprinted down the hall. Automatically he hit the button for the elevator and ran through the doors as they opened, pounding on the buttons. The second the doors opened when he reached the ground floor he took off, running as fast as he could. He barreled through the entranceway, looking up and seeing the bright sun.

Spike's eyes flew open the second he heard the first bolt shoot back. He threw himself off the couch, ducking down and trying to find his intruder. It took a few moments for him to place the sounds, then he realized what it was. It was Xander. Xander leaving.

"Fuck," Spike screamed as he stood, catching just a brief glimpse of Xander flying down the hall.

"Xander, Xander, wait," Spike ran after him, but the elevator doors closed before he could get close. He ran past the elevator and down the stairs, leaping over last two landings, trying to make it down first. He threw open the door and started down the hallway after the dark haired man who was running like every demon in hell was on his heels.

"Xander, please, stop, please." Spike skidded to a stop, watching the doors slam shut in front of him, sunlight flooding the entire hall in front of him. "Xander." Spike sank to his knees, sobbing as the old, old feeling of helplessness crashed over him. "Xander, come back."

Part Three

Ever since the night he was taken, his world narrowed to one thing. Survival. That was all that was important. Survival. Nothing mattered but that. Survival.

He quickly learned that there were only four things that he truly needed to survive. Food. Water. Shelter. Relief from the pain. And not necessarily in that order. Food - well, half the time he couldn't hold anything down anyway, so food didn't really matter that much. He would eat whatever he could whenever he could. Water - that was more important. Luckily, that wasn't too hard to come by. There was always a drinking fountain or a sink somewhere. No, water wasn't a problem. Shelter - shelter came in many forms. He didn't like to sleep on the street, he knew far too well the value of having a room with a door, someplace that was his and that he could bar and lock. Somewhere you had to be invited before you could come in. But in the end any type of shelter would do.

Relief from the pain, however, was an absolute necessity. The utter agony he felt when he finally escaped and the spells blocking the pain faded was burned into his soul. He could still remember lying on the ground convinced that he would die, praying that he would die, begging, hoping, dreaming that he would die because at least then the pain would end. But he didn't. The pain was the only sure thing in his life. It never really went away, it was always there. But at least now he knew how to control it.

Xander finally stopped running several blocks from the building, no longer able to keep up the frantic pace. He glanced around him nervously, relaxing only slightly when he realized that no one was paying him any attention. It was L.A. after all. There really wasn't anything that unusual about seeing someone who had obviously just been beaten running hell bent down the street. He started walking again, desperate to get as much distance as possible between himself and Spike. Spike. The thought of Spike quickened his steps and he lengthened his stride, wincing a little as the familiar pain crept over him. He was going to pay for this tomorrow, his shattered spine didn't like being pushed so hard. But he had to keep going, had to get away before Spike caught up to him.

A reflection off a passing car blinded him for a moment, and when he reflexively put a hand up to block his eyes, it suddenly registered that he was outside, standing under the heat of another clear, sunny day. A clear, sunny day. He turned that thought over in his mind, knowing that something was important there. It was sunny. And he was afraid Spike was following him. But Spike couldn't follow him because it was sunny. Spike couldn't come out in the sun. Xander felt some of the heartstopping terror fade as the realization dawned on him. He was safe, for now.

He looked up, seeing that he had automatically headed for his apartment. Puzzled, he glanced down towards his watch. He didn't think he had been walking that long. Of course, time had a way of slipping through his fingers lately. He frowned as he realized that his watch was gone. Did he leave it at the client's or did Spike take it? Was he even wearing it when he left the apartment? He shrugged. It didn't really matter anyway. He didn't care what time it was; all he wanted to do was get home.

Xander eased into his bathroom, trembling from the pain that now lanced through him with every step. Shower. He needed to shower. Then, then he would do something about the pain. If he tried to numb himself first, he would just pass out in the shower. And he hated regaining consciousness being pelted with cold water.

He stripped, caressing the silk of the shirt for a moment. It felt nice next to the lashes on his skin. The pants next, then he turned and adjusted the water and stepped under the spray. He shuddered in a quick breath as the water pounded on his torn skin, but then the momentary sting faded as the heat of the water soothed his aching muscles. He leaned on the shower wall for a moment, letting the water slick over him. One of the things he liked best about this apartment was the shower. It was big and he kept it clean and there was always enough hot water. It was probably the nicest place he lived in the last three years. He washed carefully, gingerly running the washcloth over the wounds. He washed his hair then simply stood there, letting the water warm him. He felt the kinks in his back slowly ease, and he turned the water off and stepped out. He dried off quickly, wrapped a towel around his waist, then moved into his bedroom. He threw on a pair of boxers and then settled onto the edge of the bed. The need hit him like a fist and he dropped to the floor, desperately running a hand along the bedframe. There had to be some here, there had to, he always kept an emergency stash. His fingers danced along the metal until he felt the crinkle of the cellophane. Sighing in relief, he stood in front of his dresser, reaching out to light the candle there. A low moan filled the room as he tried again and again to light the candle. His hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't get the flame to take.

Xander placed his hands flat on the dresser, then forced himself to look in the mirror. He rarely looked at himself anymore, he couldn't bear seeing the scars. It brought back too many painful memories. But this time he made himself look. Glassy eyes stared back at him and for one moment his heart lurched. He couldn't find himself there anymore, he didn't know who the person staring at him was. He stared for a few more heartbeats, then he dropped his gaze. He knelt and taped the packet back up. Not that, not now. His hands were shaking too badly and he would just hurt himself. And he was tired of pain. He opened the top dresser drawer and removed the bottles. Codeine, Vicodin, Demerol. These he could just swallow. He tapped a finger over the bottles, chanting softly as he did so.

"Eenie, meenie, miney, mo. Catch a dragon by the toe. If he bites you let him go, eenie, meenie, miney, mo." He stopped on the Demerol and with a flick the bottle opened. He dumped out six tablets and palmed them as he made his way to the kitchen. He traced a finger along a bottle of beer, then pushed it away. No, alcohol and painkillers was a bad idea. He pulled out some water, then swallowed the pills. He made his slow way back to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed, waiting for the medication to take effect.

As the pain slowly edged away, he allowed himself to think about what happened. Somehow Spike found him. Spike found him and took him. Xander's fists clenched at the thought. Never again. He would never be taken again. He would never used like that again. He loosened his grip and stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come. A weary sigh escaped his lips. He survived another day. Another day of keeping a promise to a long dead friend.

"I kept my promise, Will. I told you I would." Xander turned to face the wall, seeing her battered body as he did so, hearing her words.

"Promise me, Xander, promise you'll survive." Blood pooled in her mouth as Xander bent down to hear her voice, so quiet, so weak. "Promise me." She grabbed at him, fingers running down his face. "Promise me."

"I promise. I promise. I'll do anything, whatever it takes." Xander pressed down on her chest, trying to stop the bleeding, knowing it was far too late.

"Good." And then she was gone. And here he was, surviving another day. His eyes closed as he finally drifted off. Surviving. She never made him promise that he would live.

Spike growled as he prowled through the living room. Fuck, he should have tied the boy down. Tied him down or stayed there with him or done something, anything else. He snarled louder, furious with himself. He was still reacting to Xander as if the boy was the same brave but slightly goofy boy Spike remembered. Spike stopped and stared at the ceiling, cursing himself for his stupidity. Xander was a rentboy now, had been for some time from what Spike could tell and if he survived this long, then he had to have picked up some street smarts along the way.

"Just expected him to wake up and be grateful to you, didn't you, you stupid wanker." Spike muttered, needing to voice his rage. He tossed a baleful glance at the windows. Fucking California and its beautiful weather. Stuck in here while Xander was gods only knew where, doing gods only knew what. Another check of the clock. 2:12 p.m. Just over five hours to sunset. He glanced over to the door where the pack was waiting. He finally found his gun in one of the kitchen drawers and had taken the time to meticulously clean it. The gun was in the pack along with some more clothes, a gag, some rope, some food and a bottle of water. Come hell or high water, Xander was coming back with him. He would be damned if he let that pimp whore him out to be beaten like that.

The trill of his phone stopped him and for one crazy moment he thought it was Xander, Xander calling to tell him where he was, calling to tell him he was fine, calling to say he was on his way back. Spike shook his hind, clearing his mind. Fuck if he wasn't turning into Dru. He checked the number, then let out a moan. Just what he needed. His bloody Sire.

"'Lo." He growled lowly, making his annoyance clear.

"Spike, you don't sound pleased to hear from me. Where have you been, we haven't seen you in days." Spike dropped to the couch, rhythmically beating his head into the cushions. He knew that tone of voice all too well.

"Been busy." There, keep it brief, get off the phone as soon as possible. Maybe this time Angelus would leave him be.

"I'm sure you have. You know, we've only seen you three times since you came back. Are you avoiding us? Dru misses you, you know." The silky tone didn't fool Spike for a moment. He was in trouble. He was in serious trouble.

"Well, I've had things to do." He shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable.

"I see. Things more important than your family, I gather. Well, we want to see you. The car's on its way, in fact it should be there by now." Spike shot to his feet and backed away from the door. He was in very serious trouble indeed. Sure enough, there was the buzz from the downstairs door. A glance at the monitor showed Angelus's driver waiting patiently, a large umbrella in his hand.

"He's here. I'll be there shortly." Spike snapped the phone shut, then drew in a calming breath. It was early. And Angelus would be done with him soon. He would still have time to find Xander tonight. Steeling himself, he stalked out the door, already setting up the barriers in his mind.

"Spike," Angelus murmured as his childe stood defiantly before him. "It is so very nice to see you."

"Right," Spike lit a cigarette, cocking his head to one side. "So, where are the lovely ladies?"

"Out. And put that out. You know I don't like anyone smoking in here." Angelus moved away from the fireplace and motioned for Spike to join him on the couch.

Spike took one last drag, blew the smoke in Angelus's general direction, then dropped the butt onto the carpet, grinding it out with his heel.

"You've been distant since you came back," Spike shut his eyes as Angelus reached out and ran a finger down his cheek. "I've missed you."

"Cut the shit, Angelus. What do you want?" The words forced their way past his chilled lips. He hated this. He truly did. Why did Angelus always feel the need to play games, why couldn't he just take him and get it over with? But no, no he had to do this, had to act like he was still Spike's world. Hadn't he yet realized that Spike had gotten past that a long time ago? Hadn't he realized that by taking Dru and making her his, he forfeited all rights to Spike's heart as well? Perhaps he had. Perhaps that was why he did this. Remind them both of how it had been before.

"You know what I want," the words were murmured into his mouth as Spike automatically parted his lips. "You know what I always want." Spike shut down his mind and let his body take over. Just because his body had to do this didn't mean that he had to stick around for it. There were plenty of other places he could be while this was going on.

His eyes fell shut as Angelus kissed him. Once there was a time when nothing excited him more. Now, now it was all he could do to keep from shoving the older vampire away. Not that he could. Not that he ever could again. He made his deal with the devil and now he had to keep it. His mind drifted back to that night, and he wondered, as he always did, if he made the right choice.

"So, Spike, how have you been?" The bottle fell from his grip as the mocking tone drifted into his ear.

"Angelus," he gathered himself, then spun on the barstool. "How the fuck did you find me?"

"You know, that's the thing about never changing your image, you're easy to find." Angelus settled in next to him, caught the bartender's eye and motioned for another two bottles of beer.

"Yes, well, that doesn't explain why you were looking now does it? And I see you've lost that inconvenient little soul of yours again." Spike wondered where that calm tone of voice was coming from. Inside, he was in utter panic. He was in Vancouver for hells sake. Vancouver. How did Angelus find him here? And why?

"Yes, yes I have. It's a bit of a story. I hear that you left Sunnyhell a year or so ago. How have you been? Still have that little chip problem?" Angelus took a swallow of his beer, his eyes never leaving Spike's face.

"Sod off." Spike shoved back from the bar, heading for the door. "I don't know what you're playing at, but leave me out of it." He snarled as Angelus grabbed his arm, preventing him from leaving. He struggled slightly, but the grip was too tight.

"Spike, Spike, Spike, always running away." The vampire shook his head as he examined his childe. "I don't think you should leave though." He pulled Spike close and whispered in his ear. "Especially since I know how to get it out."

Spike just stared at him as Angelus stood and threw a few bills on the bar. "Let's go. I don't want to do this in public. You're staying at that dive down the block, right? Come on." He gracefully made his way to the door, Spike trailing behind him.

"Right," Spike flipped on the lights, shedding his duster and tossing it onto the bed, "let's hear how you lost it this time. Shag the Slayer again, I take it?" He paced back and forth, watching as Angelus simple stood there, an amused smile on his face.

"No, not that. You know, the curse is tied to a moment of true happiness. We always just assumed it was sexually related." A laugh rang through the room as Angelus shook his head. "Leave it to Drusilla to realize otherwise."

Spike's head snapped up at that. "Dru, what's Dru have to do with this." He leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

"Everything really." Angelus moved to stand directly in front of Spike. "She managed to get Darla back, you know."

Spike turned his head slightly, not willing to meet Angelus's eyes. "I heard something about that." And so he had. After he left Sunnydale and started wandering, he heard a lot about what his old family was doing. But somehow he missed the news of Angelus's return. But here his Sire was, standing not two feet from him. His skin began to crawl as he noted the way Angelus was openly examining him.

"Well, between the two of them, they figured something out. They managed to find a way to give Wesley a spell that would make my soul permanent. Wesley checked into it, determined that it was legitimate and then told me about it." A look of pride crossed Angelus's face at the memory. "That was the beauty of the plan. By telling me my soul would be permanent, I was truly happy. Which meant that I lost my soul again. That was a month ago. I started looking for you right after that. I'll have to give you this, you didn't make it easy."

Spike looked over, stunned. "I have to admit, that is elegant." A frown creased his face. "Wait, why didn't your little friends just perform the spell anyway?"

Angelus just tossed a hand, brushing aside the inquiry. "The spell wasn't real. Dru and Darla just made them believe it was." Angelus leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of Spike's head, trapping him in place. "Besides, they were waiting right outside. The moment I lost that damnable soul, I invited them in." Another grin at that memory. "We kept them alive for awhile, until Darla got tired of playing with them. Then we killed them. I mailed Cordelia's head to Buffy with a little note. Just so they would know what happened."

"So why are you looking for me?" Spike swallowed hard, unable to look away from the intense stare holding him in place.

"Because I have missed you, childe. Our family is nearly complete. You only need return and then things shall be as they were before." Angelus leaned in until his face was only inches from Spike's. "Things can be how they were always meant to be."

"You said you could get the chip out." It was a stall for time as Spike's mind raced, knowing there was a trap here, sensing death on all sides. Angelus was back and he wanted Spike.

"Yes, yes I can. Well, I can't, but we've found a doctor who can." Angelus leaned back slightly, moving a hand to rest on Spike's shoulder.

"I've heard that before, mate. Why should I believe you?" Spike curled his lip as he forced some anger into his voice. "It's not like I have any reason to trust you."

"Perhaps not, but I am telling you the truth." The hand on Spike's shoulder moved to trace the pulse on his throat.

"What do you want from me?" Spike swallowed as the fingers danced on his throat, those fingers that could caress or destroy in equal measure.

"What do I want?" Angelus's voice was husky in his ear as he pressed tightly against Spike. "What do I want? Nothing more than what is my right. You are my childe. I want you back in my family. I ask nothing more than that which is mine to demand. You are my childe, and I shall take care of you. All I ask in return is that you pay me the respect that I deserve. That's all, just that. Just that you remember that. That you are mine to take whenever I please, that is all I ask." He licked Spike's neck, then stepped back again. "That is what I ask. I will get the chip out for you as long as you remember that you are mine. You will always be mine."

Spike stared into the yellow eyes blazing down at him and he saw the madness glittering there. In that split second he knew that there were only two choices, agree and live or refuse and die. Live and have the chip out. Live and be under the heel of his Sire once again. Refuse and die. There really was no choice.

"So, how fast can we do this," the words no sooner started to leave his lips then Angelus was on him with a loud growl.

Spike hissed as fangs sliced though his lips, as their blood mingled and their tongues tangled. Spike's head slammed into the wall and he had one moment to be glad that he removed his duster as he felt sharp claws rip off his clothes.

"Mine." Growled into his hair as he was spun around and thrown face first into the wall.

"Mine." Snarled into his neck as razor edged teeth slit open his shoulder.

"Mine." Hissed as his legs were ruthlessly kicked open wide.

"William, William, have I ever told you how glad I am that I turned you before I took you that first time," the voice in his ear distracted him as a frisson of fear snaked up his spine. Spike whimpered as one hand held his neck firmly, pinning him to the wall while the other caressed down his ass. "Yes, so very glad. Virgin tight forever."

Spike howled as the pain annihilated him, as Angelus rammed into him with no warning. He howled again as he tried to pull away but he was trapped, trapped between the wall and the body of his Sire. The blood began to pour down his thighs and he was gratified for a moment, sure that this would kill him, that he would pass out from the loss. Another howl as Angelus rammed into him, over and over and over again. The edges of his vision blurred and he started to give way to the welcoming blackness. Then the heady sense of blood filled his nostrils and he felt an arm press to his lips.

"Drink, childe, drink." He needed no other encouragement and he began to suck fiercely, pulling in time to the thrusts in his ass. The arm was pulled away as Angelus bucked one last time, filling Spike with cold, cold seed. He pulled out abruptly and Spike collapsed to the floor, shaking from the cold. Angelus yanked him up and practically carried him into the shower.

"Get cleaned up. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. The doctor is waiting in L.A."

And then they returned to L.A. and the chip was removed. And now he was here, trying to block out the world as Angelus used his body once again. Spike let his mind go blank as he felt Angelus push into him, pushing away all the memories, drifting off to somewhere calm and safe. A world in which he stroked the hair of a brown eyed boy.

Spike leaned back into the rich leather of the limousine's seat, squirming slightly and trying to get comfortable. It had been a few weeks since the last time and he was a little sore. He sighed as he let his eyes close, drifting off for just a moment. At least Angelus hadn't beaten him this time. A sick feeling built in his stomach, the oh so familiar aftermath. Nearly four years now. Nearly four years of dancing to his Sire's tune. Nearly four years of feeling that cold, cold touch whenever his Sire felt like it. Nearly four years. Even fleeing to Paris hadn't helped. Spike shuddered at that memory. Angelus had flown over and spent a fortnight beating and whipping him. Spike learned his lesson then. He could never run, it didn't matter. He would never be free.

Spike leaned against the window, the coolness of the glass soothing him slightly. The irony of it all wasn't lost on him. He wanted the chip out so he could be free again, so he could feel whole again. Well, the chip was out. And he was more enslaved then ever before.

It was dark by the time they reached his building, and Spike went up to his apartment and opened the door only wide enough to pull the pack out. He sprinted down the stairs, heading straight for the garage. He paused a moment, considering what to take, then pulled the keys for the Xterra off the key rack. That had the most room and he could simply toss Xander in the back if need be. He opened the door and pulled out, heading for Xander's apartment. He doubted the boy would be there, but it was a place to start.

Spike settled onto the fire escape, marveling at his luck. Xander was lying there asleep, curled onto his side. Spike watched as Xander squirmed a little, the low whimpers reaching Spike's ear through the slightly open window. Xander was dreaming of something obviously unpleasant. Spike's grip on the rail in front of him tightened as the rumbling started in his chest. He wanted to storm in and scoop Xander up and take him back to his home and find out what the fuck was wrong. But he couldn't, he hadn't been invited. He cast a glance to the sky. Four more hours until sunrise. If Xander wasn't awake by then, he would have to leave. The only good thing was that it didn't appear that Xander knew that Spike knew where he lived. Otherwise, Spike was sure Xander would have disappeared.

Spike flinched as Xander suddenly sat bolt upright, clearly panicked. The loud pounding began again, and Spike realized that it was someone at Xander's door. Xander tumbled off the bed and Spike hissed as the wounds were briefly revealed. Then Xander was gone and Spike leaned forward, straining to see or hear anything.

He nearly leapt over the rail when Xander's body came flying back into the bedroom, smashing to the floor. A large man loomed over Xander and Spike watched, sickened as the man set about methodically beating Xander. He never struck Xander's face, but every other inch of Xander's body was thoroughly hammered with the small rod in the man's hand. Spike watched horrified as Xander protectively curled into a small ball, trying to hide as much as possible. When the man simply reached back and hammered a strong blow to Xander's kidney, Spike lost it. The scream that came from Xander was matched by the one that came from Spike.

Spike grabbed the pack and ran to the front of the building and through the lobby, glancing around and finding the stairs. He sprinted up, heading straight for Xander's floor. He stumbled into the hallway, then stopped. He had no idea which apartment was Xander's. He listened closely, waiting for another cry, the sound of another blow. None were forthcoming. He took a cautious step into the hallway, senses honed to a fine edge. His head snapped about halfway down. There, there was the scent of Xander's blood, there. He pressed his ear to the door, clearly hearing the words being exchanged inside.

"Now, Alex, don't lie to me." John's voice drifted through the door and Spike instantly shifted to gameface. The pimp. The pimp was here.

"I'm not lying, I don't know what happened." Xander replied weakly and Spike let out a sigh of relief. Still conscious. Xander was still conscious.

"Please, I'm not stupid. One of your clients was drained dry. So, either you were turned or one of your special clients has developed an attachment to you. Which is it? You really should answer me, you know, you won't like the alternative." John's tone was eminently reasonable and for a moment, Spike was sure that Xander would tell what happened. Good. Let him. Spike could easy destroy that prick.

"No, I haven't been turned. I don't know what happened," the desperation was clear in Xander's voice. "I told you, I don't know. I showed up and he started to whip me and then I passed out. I don't know what happened after that."

Another crack, another cry and Spike nearly ripped the door from it hinges. He shook in impotent rage. A few feet away. Just a few feet away. And there was nothing he could do.

"Then how did you get here?" The tone was now a little annoyed. "Fine, you don't remember. It doesn't matter. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

"It won't," Xander's voice was so broken it made Spike want to weep. "It won't."

"Well, Paul here will just make sure of that." John's voice was now perfectly cultured again. Quiet for a moment, then the rhythmic crack, crack of the blows once again. After just a few moments, Xander's cries stopped and Spike knew he had passed out. For once, Spike was glad. He forced himself to remain detached, waiting until they left. He knew exactly what he was going to do. All he had to do was stay sane until it came time to do it.

A blessedly few minutes later the door opened and John walked out, trailed by a large man that Spike assumed was Paul.

"We'll give him a week and then send him out again," John began. He stopped when Spike's hand wrapped around his throat.

"Tell your goon there to step back into the apartment." Spike stared down, yellow eyes glowing, his fangs pressing ever so slightly into the pimp's neck. A drop of blood welled out and Spike licked it up. He pulled his head back slightly, allowing the pimp to see the stain of his blood on the vampire's lips.

"Paul, do as he says." John managed to stutter the words out as the stunned man behind him immediately obeyed.

"Good, now invite me in." Spike squeezed a little tighter as John hesitated. He moved a hand to the man's groin and ran a sharp claw along the man's balls. "Now."

"Come in, come in, come in," Paul chanted, completely horrified.

Spike stepped forward, shoving John in front of him. The pimp skidded across the floor as Spike suddenly let go, whirled and grabbed the body guard's arm, snapping the forearm cleanly. The gun went flying across the room as Paul dropped to his knees, screaming in pain.

"Can't take it I see." Spike glared down, then slammed his fist hard into the man's jaw. The man instantly was knocked unconscious. Spike turned back to John. "Good, he's shut up. Now, then I think it's time that you and I have a little chat." He reached down and yanked the man back to his feet. He threw him into one of the kitchen chairs then moved to stand in front of him.

"You, it was, it was you," John stammered out, terror etched on his face. "Master Spike, why, is there something about the boy, you could have had him any time you wished, I had no idea that he was being harmed, you must believe me."

"No idea he was being harmed. Seemed to have a pretty good idea when that lump there was doing it." Spike pulled up another chair and spun it around, straddling the seat as he sat down.

"That, that was just business. Surely you understand, Master. Just business. I do have a reputation to maintain." John quivered under the intense stare scrutinizing him.

"Right. Business. Just business to beat the best man in your stable to within an inch of his life." Spike clenched his hands, trying to stop himself from just dashing into the next room, gathering up Xander and taking off. "Well, let's talk, businessman to businessman. I want the boy. Name a price."

John blinked hard. This was unexpected. His mind worked rapidly as he sized the situation. For some reason Spike wanted the boy. And he would pay. Obviously, the boy was very valuable. "$500,000. After all, as you pointed out, he is my most valuable asset."

Spike just threw his head back and laughed. "Mate, I'll grant you this. You definitely have a set of brass ones." He leaned in closer and pinned the man in place with a stare. "You do realize I could just kill you and take him, don't you. Why don't you try again?"

"I, well, I suppose I could let him go for, for $250,000." John struggled to keep his voice steady. "I do get $1,000 a visit for him, usually, and he averages about 20 calls a week. So, that, that does seem fair. I'm selling him to you for a few months fees. That seems fair."

"Right, of course, he won't be going anywhere for a few weeks now, will he. You made sure of that. $100,000 that's my only offer. And I suggest you take it." Spike kicked the body on the floor as the bodyguard started to move.

"Done." John breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like he would live through this after all.

"Done. I'll have the money wired to you tomorrow." Spike stood, then suddenly leaned back down. "One last thing. If you tell anyone about this, or if anyone tries to come to take him back, I'll destroy you and your entire family. You will pray to die before I am through with you. And you know that I will do it."

"Yes, yes, Master," the pimp dropped his eyes, how had the vampire known his plan. "Of course."

"Right," Spike just laughed humorlessly. "Now get out. And take that with you." He watched, amused as John tried to drag the large man down the hall. Spike just stood in the doorway and watched. Once they were gone, he went over to kneel by Xander. Xander was still unconscious, for which Spike was grateful. The boy's body was already covered with bruises and he would be in agony when he woke. Spike grabbed the pack from the hall, then looked around the apartment. It was nice, but completely impersonal. No pictures were on the wall and no personal belongings were in view. Spike opened the closet, gratified to see a few duffel bags stuffed in the back. He efficiently gathered up Xander's clothes, not that there were many to be packed. He opened the dresser, pausing slightly when he saw the prescription bottles. He lifted them out, pleased to see they were painkillers, then tossed them into a bag. The dresser was soon emptied, and Spike moved to the bathroom. Spike took the razor, shaving cream, tooth brush and toothpaste and left everything else. He looked around the apartment, then nodded. It would do for now. They could come back for anything else later. He heard a noise behind him and he turned, seeing that Xander was conscious.

"Spike, what the hell, why are you here, how did you get in?" Xander shivered as the pain hit him again. "Fuck."

"You're coming with me." Spike reached out and pulled Xander to his feet.

"No fucking way. There is no way I'm going with you." Xander tried to pull back, but Spike's grip was too hard.

"Yes, you bloody well are. One way or another you are coming with me." Spike tried to keep his voice calm, but the anger he still felt came through clearly.

"No. And it's not like you can make me." Xander struggled a little more, trying to pull away.

"Actually, mate, I can." Spike shoved Xander back down on the bed. Xander's eyes went wide as he stared up. "Chip's well and gone. Now get up. Or I will tie you up and take you."

Xander stood, despair sinking through him. Taken. Again. He was being taken again. And there was nothing he could do about it. At least not now. He flinched back as Spike took his hand and pressed something into his palm.

"Here, take these." Xander blinked down at the pills in his hand. More Demerol. "Do you want some water?"

Completely confused, Xander took the offered bottle of water from Spike's hand and then swallowed the pills. He met Spike's eyes briefly as he handed the bottle back and he sucked in a breath at the look there. Concern. Not hate. For the first time in years, Xander maintained eye contact for more than a brief second.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, come on. We have to get going." Spike gathered up the bags and pushed Xander out the door while he was still confused. Keeping one hand firmly on the boy's back, he steered him out the building and into the alley. The SUV was parked there and Spike helped Xander into the front seat. Xander's eyes almost immediately fell shut and Spike dashed around to the driver's side and sped back to his building. He wanted Xander with him and safe before another moment passed.

Part Four

Spike turned to stare at Xander, one arm draped over the steering wheel, his head resting in the crook of his arm.  They were still sitting in the garage, the door bolted fast behind them.  For once Spike had lowered the second set of doors, the reinforced set that he was assured would stop anything but a tank from getting through.  He rarely did so, the doors were so heavy that even with the heavy duty motor it still took nearly three minutes for the doors to slide back into the ceiling.  And those three minutes could very well be the difference between a quick getaway and death.  But he was taking no chances tonight.  No way  in hell was he going to be taking any chances tonight. 

He sighed, eyes dropping shut as he let some of the stress bleed out through the purposeful exhalation.  Had it only been just over twenty-four hours ago that he carried Xander up to the apartment?  It seemed impossible to believe, too many things happening in too brief a time.  An ironic smile crossed his lips.  Gods if this didn’t remind him of the old times in Sunnyhell, going from peace to disaster to even more disaster with every heartbeat.  Every heartbeat.  Like the sound of the beats now pounding in his ears.

His fingers twitched as he sat there, waiting for Xander to wake.  Once again, Xander was unconscious for nearly the entire trip back to Spike’s.  But this time, Spike was grateful for that.  He knew all too well just how much pain Xander would shortly be in and he gave thanks to the gods he only faintly believed in that Xander was getting some rest, some brief break for the torment.  He desperately wanted a cigarette, but he didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to disturb Xander’s rest.

They stayed there for long minutes, Spike entranced by the rise and fall of Xander’s chest, the miracle of having Xander there with him.  Whatever hell Xander had gone through the last few years, he was still alive.  He survived.  Spike snorted quietly at the maudlin turn of his thoughts.  Yes, the man next to him survived, but at what cost?

“Have to stop doing this, can’t keep thinking that he is who he was.”  The warning cut through his reverie.  “Something shattered him.  In more ways than one.  You saw him with that needle.  And why does he have all those drugs?  He’s not that innocent you craved anymore.”

But even as the words sounded in his mind, the taste of Xander’s blood filled his mouth.  And blood told the truest tale.  Whatever the hell of his existence, whatever drove Xander to those desperate, desperate acts, he was still innocent.  Somewhere deep inside that core of him remained.  And, Spike felt his face morph as he made a vow to himself, he would do anything to give that back to Xander.  He would do anything, kill anyone, destroy everything he had to in order to ensure that.  But first he had to find out what happened.  And he couldn’t do that without talking to Xander.

Reluctantly, he pushed off the steering wheel, dragging his eyes away from his contemplation of Xander’s face.  He was just going to have to wake the boy.  “Not a boy.  Not anymore.”  Spike repeated the words over and over as he reached out to lay a hand on Xander’s shoulder, wanting to ease Xander to consciousness.

“Xander,” he started.

Xander jerked instantly awake, twisting sideways and throwing himself against the door, his arms automatically coming up to cover his face as he tried to push himself as far away from the touch as he could, frantically panting as his eyes shot open.  Spike flinched back in shock, cringing as he heard Xander’s back slam into the handle inside the door, the sickly smell of fresh blood filling the air.  Xander twisted in the seat, desperately searching for lock, trying to get as far away as he could.  Spike snarled in fury, so this was how he was going to be repaid, was it.   The damn fool human trying to run every time he helped.  He growled, leaning over to yank Xander back, furious.  Then he noticed that Xander’s eyes were focused somewhere over his shoulder.  In fact, it didn’t seem that Xander even knew he was there.  Spike leaned back, slowly raising both hands in front of him, trying to appear as non-threatening as he could.

“Xander, Xander, calm down, sorry mate, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Spike kept his voice low and calm, calling on all his practice at settling Dru.  “Xander, do you know who I am, do you remember where you are?”  Spike leaned against his own door, putting as much space as possible between them.

Xander’s head jerked back as if slapped at the sound of Spike’s voice.  He slowly raised his head, his desperate movements slowing as he let the words sink in.  He was with Spike.  Spike came and got him.  Spike hadn’t hurt him.  Yet. 

“Yes,” the reply was so quiet Spike could barely hear it.  “Yes,” a little louder now as Xander chanced looking into Spike’s eyes.  “You’re Spike.  And you brought me home.”

Spike hissed at the artless words.  Brought him home.  That was just what he wanted to do.  Although he didn’t think Xander meant it in quite the same way.

“Right.  Now then, why don’t we just go upstairs, I’m sure that you would like to sleep some more.”  Spike eased his way out the car door, moving slowly.  Now that he finally had Xander with him again, he was determined not to let him go so easily.  No one played him for a fool twice.  He moved around to Xander’s side, careful to keep his hands in front of him.  “No sudden movements,” he muttered under his breath.  “Keep it slow, easy, mate.”  He felt for all the world like he was taming a wild animal.  And the hunted look in Xander’s eyes only confirmed his suspicions.  Whatever Xander had gone through was bound to be something horrific, even by vampire standards.

Xander watched Spike approach his door, sucking in deep breaths as he tried to calm down.  Automatically he checked for entrances and exits.  The garage seemed huge, more like the ground floor of some type of industrial building.  There were four cars besides the one he was in.  The recognized the DeSoto, but the rest were new.  There was a BMW convertible.  The oddness of a vampire wanting a convertible struck him faintly.  Then a nice Mercedes.  And a ’67 Stingray.  Another convertible.  Black, of course.  His gaze caressed it lovingly for a moment, then his mind snapped back to memorizing the layout of the room.  The only light came from the large industrial lights hanging from the ceiling.  The only door he could see was the elevator on the other side of the room.  He couldn’t see behind him to check out the garage doors, but he knew it wouldn’t matter.  There was no way he could out run Spike.  He opened his door and nearly fell out.  He would have if Spike hadn’t grabbed his arm.  He flinched again at the touch and Spike immediately stepped back, a carefully neutral expression on his face.

“Why don’t you just rest for a moment, I’m going to grab the bags out of the back.”  Spike leaned Xander against the truck, then yanked open the back door.  He gathered the bags in one hand and then stepped back.  He longed to just carry Xander as well, but he knew there was no way that the human would allow that.  Besides, he wanted Xander to have some dignity.  “Start with the little things,” the voice in his head cautioned.  “The little things first.  Gods only know how long it’s been since he’s been treated decently.”  Spike turned to Xander, still speaking quietly.  “Please come up with me.  Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”  He tried to sound as trustworthy as possible, counting on the shock he saw creeping into Xander’s eyes to keep the boy, no the man, he had to remember, Xander was a man now, from keeping Xander from remembering the chip was gone. 

“Fine.”  Xander’s voice was still flat and dead but he walked beside Spike as the vampire led the way to the elevator.  Spike covertly studied him on the short walk.  The limp was back, more pronounced now.  Xander’s face was completely white and Spike could still smell the blood seeping down his skin.  He longed to talk to Xander, to find out what possibly could have gone wrong, what hell could have led to this.  But not tonight.  Tonight he just wanted to get Xander into a hot bath with a nice steaming mug of tea with just the right amount of whiskey in it.  Should he put whiskey in it, he mused as the elevator doors opened and he threw the bags on the floor, just managing to restrain from reaching out and steadying Xander as he stumbled into the lift.  Alcohol on top of Demerol was not a good idea.  So just the tea then.  And food.  Spike cast his mind back over the contents of his fridge.  All he had was beer, cream cheese and bagels.  Well, it was something.  Get Xander clean, get him fed then get him into bed.  But this time Spike was staying there with him.  There was no way he was risking Xander fleeing again.  Although, another look as he hit the button, although if he knew his injuries, and he did, Xander wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning.  Still, no use in taking chances.

They rode in silence up to the fourth floor, Xander leaning on the wall, nearly asleep on his feet.  He started when the elevator ground to a halt and the doors opened. 

“This way,” Spike jerked his head towards the right as he lifted the bags, leading the way down the hall, purposefully walking in front of Xander to show him that he trusted Xander, that he didn’t think Xander would stake him from behind.  “And why should you trust him,” the little voice in his head spoke up.  “You have no idea who he is anymore.”  Spike growled just below the pitch of Xander’s hearing.  “Shut up, you.”  He was sick of the little voice in his head, the one that told him not to leave Sunnydale in the first place.  The one that told him this was his fault, that if he only stayed this wouldn’t have happened.  That Xander would have been spared whatever all this was.  That if he only stayed, if he only was braver, stronger, just more he could have prevented all this.  Let Xander stake him.  It was only his due.

The check of the tells was simply routine.  His little family never bothered him the night after Angelus fucked him.  No, they knew to leave him alone.  Angelus preferred it that way, wanted Spike to be alone and miserable, wanted Spike to relive every shameful second without Dru or Darla there to distract him.  A bitter smile at that.  Well, not tonight.  No, tonight the demons of another would torment his mind.  Spike flipped on the lights and moved to the center of the room, turning slowly to find Xander hovering in the doorway.

Xander looked around, cautiously entering one step at a time.  He still remembered the layout of the rooms from the last time he was here, but now he took the time to notice the furnishings as well.  It was nice, very modern and sleek, black leather couch, chrome end tables, stereo, television, stacks of books and cds and dvds haphazardly stacked on the floor.  It looked lived in, comfortable.  A world away from the mansion and the crypt.  He took another step in, head ducked down so that he could watch Spike from under his eyelashes.  Spike was just standing calmly in the center of the room, watching him carefully but not doing anything else.  An unfamiliar warmth began to spread through him.  Spike.  Unchipped Spike.  Unchipped Spike who hadn’t drank from him when Xander was sent over.  Unchipped Spike who tried to help him.  Unchipped Spike who apparently came looking for him.  Spike.  Who knew who he used to be.  Xander took two more steps into the room.  Spike.  Maybe he could tell Xander who he was now.

“Are you hungry, I have some bagels, not much else, sorry, wasn’t really expecting company,” Spike watched as Xander moved to stand behind the couch, Xander’s hands reaching out to rest on the back.  He was quivering and Spike could see the exhaustion stealing over him.

“No, I’m not really hungry,” Xander felt the world tip and he tightened his grasp on the couch.  He had to get it together, he couldn’t just collapse.  “Spike, I,”

Spike vaulted over the couch and managed to catch Xander just before his head hit the ground.  He quickly pressed one hand over Xander’s heart, needing to feel the pulse under his palm, needing that touch to confirm the sound in his ears.  He simply held Xander for a moment, running his hands up and down Xander’s arms, the heat of Xander’s body warming him.  With a quick shake of his head, he pulled Xander up, resting him against the back of the couch.  As much as he wanted to, he wasn’t going to just put Xander in the bath.  No, he wanted Xander to feel safe here.  And waking naked in the bathroom wouldn’t really help that. 

Xander groaned a little then opened his eyes.  He jerked back upon seeing Spike’s concerned gaze so close.  “What happened?”

“You collapsed.  I think maybe you should take a bath, clean up a little while I get you some food.  Then to sleep.”  Spike managed to catch himself before he said to bed.  He didn’t want to think about the implications that phrase had.

“Fine.”  Xander let Spike help him up.  He was too tired to struggle, too tired to fight.  If Spike wanted to take care of him, he would let him.  Why not?  At least this was better than how most of his evenings were spent.  Xander felt Spike’s hand on his lower back, the touch soothing.  Spike steered him to the bathroom, then settled him on the side of the tub.  Xander watched as Spike drew him a warm bath, a handful of some bath crystals filling the room with a calming scent. 

“Right, hop in.”  Spike turned his head slightly, expecting Xander to protest at undressing in front of him.  He was startled when Xander immediately stood and stripped down.  Spike muffled a curse.  Damn, it was hard to forget what Xander was now.  Nudity probably meant nothing to him.  Xander settled into the tub, a small sigh of pleasure escaping his lips.  Spike felt a surge of triumph.  There.  A reaction.  Some sign of comfort. 

“Just soak for awhile, it’ll ease your muscles.  I have some antiseptic for the cuts.”  Spike stood, heading for the kitchen.

“Please, don’t go.  I’m not hungry.”  Xander heard the pleading in his voice and dropped his head.  No.  He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t let himself need like this.  He couldn’t.  It was far, far too dangerous.

“If you don’t want me to go, I won’t.”  Spike sat on the edge of the tub, watching as some of the pain faded from Xander’s face.  That was better.  That looked more like the Xander he knew. Spike let his gaze wander over the scars on Xander’s face and chest.  He felt his insides clench.  It must have hurt so badly when the initial cuts occurred.  He stoked the rage that was ever present now when he thought of Xander.  Whoever, whatever did this had to die.  After a suitable amount of torture of course.

The water splashed as Xander sat up.  “Is there any soap?”  As comfortable as this was, he needed to move before he fell asleep and drowned.  Spike handed over the soap and a sponge and Xander quickly cleaned up, wincing as he moved over his bruised flesh.  Spike reached back and handed him a towel as Xander stood. 

“Turn around, I want to clean out the cuts on your back again.”  Spike picked up the tube of antiseptic and spread it in his hands.  He frowned as Xander immediately complied.  As helpful as this was, he didn’t trust it.  Xander was being far too compliant.  He shook off the thought for the morning.  Right now, he needed to get Xander to bed.  He efficiently cleaned Xander’s wounds, then wrapped him in another towel. 

“Here, time for all good boys to go to sleep.”  Spike tugged Xander into the bedroom, settling him under the sheets.  Xander was nearly asleep now, and Spike was able to pull the comforter up under his chin.  It felt so good to do it, so right.  Like the most natural thing in the world was to care for this man.

Xander nestled into the sheet, pain fading away and contentment creeping over him.  How long now since he could relax like this?  The sheet felt so good, the cotton cool and crisp on his skin.  The sheet smelled like Spike, the scent winding through his memories.  He always loved that smell, cigarettes and hair gel and blood and power.

“Xander,” Spike started, knowing that Xander was too close to sleep to be able to lie.  He had to know, at least a little.  Fuller explanations could wait until morning, but now he had to know something.  He couldn’t stop himself from asking.  “Xander, what happened?” 

“I was taken.”  Xander didn’t even try to lie.  He just didn’t have the strength.

“By who?”  Spike inched closer on the bed, feeling the heat of Xander’s leg pressed into his.

“You ever heard of the Tybalis clan?”  Xander’s voice was so faint, drifting into sleep.  “They took me.  Had me for two years.”  The last words faded away as Xander drifted off.

Spike eased off the bed and stumbled into the living room, heading for the kitchen, heading for the bottle of Jack.  The Tybalis clan.  He grabbed the bottle and slammed back a swallow, then another, then another.  He sank to the floor, head on his knees as he started to weep.  The Tybalis clan.   Purveyors of the finest whores.  They specialized in providing humans for demons to use as toys.  Humans to be raped and tortured to their master’s desire.  He wept until his throat was raw and his shoulders were sore.  The Tybalis clan.  There could be nothing worse.  The sobs finally eased and Spike wiped his eyes.  He moved back to sit on the bed, staring at Xander’s face.  He looked so peaceful now. 

“I swear to you.  I’ll give that back.”  He leaned back on the headboard, standing guard against the nightmares he was sure would come.

Part Five

Xander slowly clawed his way back to consciousness, the low murmur of voices in the other room pulling him out of his sleep.  He slowly brushed the hair from his face, wincing as his muscles protested the movement.  A few deep breaths and he was fully awake, feeling both incredibly rested and incredibly sore all at the same time.  He blinked a few times, clearing the sleep from his eyes, then turned onto his side, ignoring the twinges of pain.  He focused instead on the figure pacing in the next room, trying to make out the words of the conversation. 

”Alan, it’s none of your fucking business why I want you to do it, I pay you damn well to simply do whatever I say,” Spike growled into the phone, stalking back and forth.  He shifted the phone to his left hand, angling his body so as to be able to watch the bed.  He nodded sharply, seeing that Xander was still lying there.  He was fairly certain the human was awake, his heart rate was up a little, but Xander wasn’t moving that much.  Good.  Let him rest.  He brought his focus back to the conversation with a snarl.

“But, Master, if you would explain to me the necessity of this action then I can make sure that your interests are properly protected.”  The silky tones of his lawyer grated in his ear.

“Alan, trust me, my interests are safer than they’ve been in years.”  Spike stopped, tilting his head back, trying to ease the ache in his neck.  This argument had been going on for ten minutes now and Spike’s patience was beginning to wear thin.  He didn’t want to start screaming, that would surely not make Xander feel secure.  But if this disagreement didn’t end shortly, he would be.  “Am I to understand that you cannot handle setting up a simple account?  And providing me with the number and password?  I am disappointed in you and your firm, Alan, I was told to expect better.  I was informed that your firm was a model of discretion.  I would hate to find otherwise.”  The gutter accent was gone now, instead Spike’s true voice rang out.  Strong, authoritative, educated, intelligent.  Cutting.  Cruel.  He knew just what buttons to push.

“No, nothing like that,” Spike grinned ferally as the man on the other end began to stutter.  “We can have the account done in a matter of a few minutes.  Do you have a preference where?” 

“Not particularly, I know the funds are going to be moved immediately.  How about Switzerland?  I don’t care which bank.”  Spike paced closer to the bedroom door, checking to make sure that Xander wasn’t doing something foolish, like trying to stand on his own.  No, still in bed, eyes closed.  It appeared that Xander was resting easily, his breathing slow and sure.  Good.

“If you would care to hold, I can have the information for you in just a few moments.”  The lawyer snapped his fingers, three associates running to his call.  He scribbled a note on a pad and ripped it off, the woman who took it nearly tripping on her heels as she scrambled out the door.  They could not afford to anger this client.  And they definitely could not afford to anger his friends. 

“That’s fine, I do have a few more projects for you.”  Spike lit a cigarette, stalking over to stare at the monitor by the door.  The delivery man should have been here a good ten minutes ago.  Damn L.A. traffic. 

“Certainly, we are glad to provide whatever service we can.”  The oily tone was back and Spike rolled his eyes as he turned to the kitchen, blowing out a stream of smoke.  He waved his hand distractedly, trying to keep the smoke from drifting into the bedroom.

“I’m going to need you set up a new identity for me,” Spike began as the buzzer for the downstairs down sounded.  Glancing over he saw the delivery boy from the groceries waiting patiently.  “Hold on a moment.”  Spike pressed the intercom, smirking a little as the boy jumped from the sound.  “Go to the elevators, then the fourth floor, I’ll meet you in the hall.”  The boy just nodded, gathering up his bags while waiting for the doors to open.  Spike triggered the lock and the boy walked through, vanishing from sight as he headed down the hall.

“Master, are you planning on leaving?”  Alan pulled a legal pad over, outlining the steps he would need to take.  “Are you planning on returning to Europe because I’m certain that you can still use the Benjamin Davies documents.” 

“It’s not for me.”  Spike opened his door, leaning half out of the doorway, waiting for the elevator doors to open.  He idly fingered the knife that was tucked in the small of his back, just in case.  He stuck his head back inside for a moment, checking yet again to see that Xander was still safely in bed.  The doors opened and the young man looked both ways, confused as where to go.  “Oi, down here.”  Spike waved the boy down the hall, eyes narrow.  He seemed fine, there was no hint of fear or anticipation coming off him.  Spike relaxed slightly, pulling a bill from his pocket.  “You can just leave everything here.”  Spike slipped the boy the bill, then watched as he headed back down the hall, not moving from his space in the door until the elevator doors closed.  He took a step back inside, watching the monitor closely.  He watched as the figure entered the frame than exited out the front.  There, the boy was gone.  Spike leaned back into the hall, pulling the heavy bags of groceries in behind him.

“Master,” the quiet voice in his ear jerked Spike back to the conversation.  “Who is it for then, Drusilla?” 

“No one you know.  I need documentation for a male, in his mid-twenties.  Full set, California driver’s license and American passport.  Social Security number, the works.”  Spike hefted three of the bags and headed for the kitchen, glancing back over his shoulder every few seconds.  He may be being paranoid, but there was no way he was letting Xander slip out again.

“What name shall we use?”  Alan frowned at his notes, scribbling a few out. 

“I’ll let you know in a few days.  I don’t need them immediately, probably in a few weeks or two.  How much notification do you need?”  Spike rapidly put the groceries away, pulling the milk back out and hunting for a clean glass.   If Xander was awake, he was sure to be hungry and thirsty. 

“One day would be sufficient.”  There would be no problems in obtaining the documents requested.  “We’ll need a picture for the passport.” 

”Fine.  And I’ll also need you to transfer some other funds.  But that can wait as well.”  Spike yawned and stretched, his back sore from sitting cross-legged on the bottom of the bed all night. 

“That will not be a problem.”  The lawyer reached out and took the slip of paper from the woman across the deck.  “We have the account set up.  The number is XRY874ZW.  Password is swordfish.  We used Credit Suisse.”

“XRY874ZW.  Swordfish.  Credit Suisse.  Got it.”  Spike jotted the information down, then moved back into the living room.  “I’ll call in a few days about the other matters we discussed.”

“We are at your disposal, Master.  It’s a pleasure to”  Spike hung up in the middle of the man’s sentence.  He hated it when they tried to glad hand him.  He flipped open the phone again, growling slightly as he dialed the number off the card.

“Trussler’s Topiary.”  The chipper voice grated in his ear.

“Get me John.”  The tone of command was unmistakable.

“May I ask who’s calling?”  The woman sounded a little cowed.  Good.

“That is none of your business.”  The steel in his voice rang through the room and he heard nothing for a moment, then a voice sounded down the line.

“Who is this?”  John barked into the phone, glaring at the woman in the door.  She knew never to put anyone through who didn’t identify themselves.

“The person with your money.”  Spike spat out, fingers clenched around the phone.  In retrospect, he truly wished he’d just drained the asshole and taken Xander.  It would have been so gratifying. 

“Ah, Master Spike, this is a pleasure.”  John leaned back, crossing his hands on his stomach.  This was a pleasure.  Selling Alex was a wonderful idea, the boy wouldn’t have lasted more than another week or two at best.  It amazed him that the boy was still alive, some of his client’s were known for their unusual tastes.  And then there was the matter of the vampires.  Yes, the boy wouldn’t have been much use to him for more than another few weeks.

“Here’s where you can get your money.  Credit Suisse.  Account XRY874ZW.  Password is swordfish.  I’ll wait while you confirm.”  Spike contented himself with shredding a book, not even looking to see what it was.  It was either that or drive himself insane thinking of how this man hurt Xander.  His hand snapped up as he heard a low moan coming from the bedroom.  He hurried over to the bed, not noticing when he dropped the phone from his ear.

“I’m checking as we speak.”  John turned to his computer, pulling up the appropriate link.  He smiled several minutes later as the information glowed on his screen.  “$100,000.  Exactly as we agreed.  I take it our business is concluded.  Congratulations, Master.  I hope you enjoy the boy.”  He hung up, eager to end the discussion.  He typed in a few commands, and the money vanished from the account, on its way to one of his accounts in the Caymans. 

Spike barely heard the words as he crouched by the bed, the phone lying on the floor.  “Xander, Xander, are you awake, do you need something?”  Spike kept his hands on the edge of the bed spread flat and within clear view.  Xander looked awful, pain etched in the taunt lines of his face.

“I’m fine,” Xander ground out, the pain there but manageable.  He was used to much worse.  “Who was that on the phone?”

“No one for you to be concerned about.”  Spike replied, worry creasing his brow.  “You must be hungry.  I got some food, pretty much whatever you would like.”   That was true, when he placed the order he simply rattled off every food he remembered Xander liking, along with a large selection of fruits and vegetables. 

“No, Spike, who was that?”  Xander pushed himself up, holding up a hand to stop Spike from helping him.  “It sounded like my boss.”

Spike hissed at that.  “Like I said, it was no one for you to be concerned about.  Now, do you want some milk?  I could get you some tea.”  He resisted the urge to plump the pillows behind Xander’s head.  It would be so easy to baby him, but that was the last thing Xander needed.

“If it was who I think it was that I need to be concerned.”  Xander replayed the words in his head.  ‘$100,000.  I hope you enjoy the boy.’  “Seriously, what was that about.”

“Nothing,” Spike answered, moving over to the closet, pulling out a robe.  “Here, if you don’t want to eat I’m sure you’ll want to get cleaned up.  Put this on and I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“I don’t want to get cleaned up.  I want some answers.”  Xander squeezed his eyes shut then forced the question past his lips.  “Spike, did you buy me?”

Spike froze for a moment, then smoothly tossed the pile of silk on the bed.  “Buy you?  Don’t be ridiculous.  Now get up.  I don’t have all day to baby you.”  Spike crossed his arms in front of his chest, wondering if perhaps growling would get Xander to listen.

“I don’t think I’m being ridiculous,” Xander slowly replied, pinning Spike to the wall with his stare.  “You bought me, didn’t you.”

Spike opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to come up with a response.  The easy lies died on his lips as he took in the look on Xander’s face.  It didn’t matter what he said.  Xander knew the truth.  “Yes.  But it’s not like you think.”

Xander dropped his eyes and bowed his head.  “I am yours to command, Master.  Tell me what you wish.” 

“Xander, stop that, it’s not like you think.”  Spike ran both hands through his hair, growling now at his stupidity.

“I live to serve you.  Do all that you wish.”  Xander kept his eyes on the comforter, the words coming automatically to his lips.

“Xander.  Shut up.  It’s not like that.”  Spike stalked to the bed and grabbed Xander by the shoulders, shaking the man slightly.  “You’re not mine  I didn’t buy you.  I mean, fuck, I did, but,”  Spike stopped, realizing that Xander wasn’t responding at all, that he was letting Spike simply shake him back and forth like a doll.  “Shit.”  He settled Xander back onto the pillows, then moved to sit on the foot of the bed.  “Look at me.”

Xander immediately complied and Spike winced at the instant obedience.  “Look, mate.  I have no idea what you think is going on, but you are not mine to command.  I just wanted to get you away from that wanker.  This way, you don’t have to go back.  It’s as simple as that.” 

Xander frowned, weighing the information.  “So, I don’t have to obey you?”  His tone of voice made it clear that this was an alien concept.

Spike concentrated fiercely, battling back his urge to reach out and slap that horrible beaten sound out of Xander’s mouth.  He started to reply, then stopped, tilting his head as he considered the idea that just appeared fully formed in his mind.  Part of him was thrilled with it, part of him was disgusted.  If Xander truly had been taken by the Tybalis clan and if he truly had spent two years as one of their whores, then he would more likely than not still automatically obey the commands of his master.  And since Spike bought him, then Xander would do anything he demanded without hesitation.  He shook his head, appalled at what he was about to do.  But he had to do it, it was the simplest solution to the problems that kept him up all the previous night.  “I only have two commands that you must obey.  One, you may not leave this apartment unless you are accompanied by me or unless I have given you specific permission to do so.  And two, you are not allowed to kill me.  Other than that, you are free to do as you see fit.”  He felt his stomach lurch, sickened by the look of obedience on Xander’s face.

“Are you certain Master, I know many ways to please you.”  Xander started to pull the sheet away, moving to arrange himself into a more accessible position.  Spike pressed his hands firmly on the sheet, keeping Xander from exposing himself.

“I am certain.  That is all I command of you.  Now, I would like you to get cleaned up or eat or anything else you would like.  I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain, I have your medication.”  Spike pushed off the bed, needing to put some distance between himself and Xander.  This was much harder than he ever anticipated.  It was one thing to know how shattered Xander was.  It was quite another to see it.  Despair began to build in him.  He had no idea what to do.  He stared down at the huddled form on his bed.  He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t bear to see this. 

“Um, actually, it’s not that bad.  I am hungry though.”  Xander swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling the robe over his shoulders.  He was still confused, but he focused on what he knew.  Spike now owned him.  He couldn’t leave the apartment without Spike or unless Spike said.  He couldn’t kill Spike.  He nodded once, memorizing his commands.  These were easy.  These he could do.  He slowly stood, grateful to find that he could walk.  “Which way is the kitchen?”

Spike pointed out the door and Xander headed slowly out, limping once again.  He was very hungry, he couldn’t really remember the last time he ate.  He sighed, adjusting quickly to this latest twist to his life.  This wasn’t so bad.  Maybe Spike would drain him soon and then everything would be over.  And it wouldn’t be like he lied to Willow.  He took some comfort in that as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Once you eat I want you to let me check your back,” Spike stayed a few steps behind Xander, ready to reach out to steady him. 

“Fine.”  Xander turned his head slightly, checking to see where the vampire was.  “Spike, how did you find me?”

“Well,” Spike began, ready to spin some lie.  His eyes widened as Xander suddenly went deathly white.  “Xander, are you okay?”  

Xander started to answer, then doubled over, collapsing to his hands and knees, back arching like a cat.  His mouth stretched in a noiseless scream, hands clenching and unclenching, tears pouring down his face.  He jerked upwards, the screams escaping him this time as his arms gave way and he fell to his side on the floor.  He curled into a ball, jerking spasmodically. 

Spike threw himself down next to Xander, trying to hold him still.  The seizures went on and on and Spike curled around Xander’s back, pressing the shaking body into his chest.  A faint buzzing tickled his ears and he leaned closer, trying to find the source.  Finally, Xander went still in his arms.  Rolling him onto his back, Spike realized that Xander was unconscious.  He must have passed out from the pain.  Faint tremors still ran through Xander’s limbs.  Spike carefully released Xander from his arms, then he ran to the bathroom, grabbing all three bottles of pain medication and some towels.  He settled down to wait for Xander to regain consciousness, head resting on his knees.  What had they done to Xander?  How the fuck could he ever fix this?

Part Six

The gagging hurt so much that it jerked Xander back to consciousness.  Automatically he rolled onto his hands and knees, biting back a hiss of pain.  He gagged again, trying desperately to battle back the waves of nausea.  He flinched as he felt cold hands on his face, turning his head to the side.  He kept his eyes firmly shut, it was bad enough that he was about to be taken in this state, he didn’t want to have to see the face of his tormenter as well.

“Xander, c’mon, mate, look at me for a moment,” Spike spoke as quietly as he could, carefully cradling Xander’s face in his hands.  Xander looked ready to vomit at any moment and Spike did not want him to choke.  “Let me help you up.”  Questions pounded in his mind, begging for answers.  Ruthlessly he shoved them aside, now was not the time.  Now he had to make sure that Xander was alright, well, at least out of excruciating pain for the moment.

“No, I can’t get up right now.”  Xander pulled slightly against Spike’s grip and Spike reluctantly pulled his hands away from Xander’s face.  “I need a few minutes, then I’ll get up.”  Xander felt the blood rush to his face, a huge wave of shame washing over him.  “I’m fine, you don’t have to stay here, I’m fine.”  He turned his head to the side, panting as some more aftershocks rippled through his body.

“You most assuredly are not fine.  Xander, look at me.”  Spike put as much authority as he could into the command, wincing as Xander automatically responded to the tone and turned his face back to Spike.  The utter agony contained in the gaze pierced through Spike like a knife.  “I think you might be more comfortable on the couch.  Can you stand or do you want some help?”  He started to reach out, wanting to place his arms around Xander’s shoulders, needing to comfort the human in any way he could.  Xander’s involuntary  shudder convinced him otherwise, and Spike carefully lowered his hand, moving so that he was directly in Xander’s line of sight, hands flat on the floor.  “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you if you don’t want.”

“No, it’s fine.  I’m sorry, Master, I didn’t mean,”  Xander closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly.  “Anything that you wish is yours.”

“Xander,” Spike sighed, trying to keep his tone even and calm.  “Look, I’m not your Master.  Don’t call me that.  Now, if you feel up to it, can we please move to the couch, I really do think it’ll be better for you to rest there rather than on your hands and knees on the floor.” 

“If that’s what you think is best.”  Once again, defeat and agony colored the words.  Spike clenched his fists tightly, willing himself to stay calm.  There was no way that Xander would understand that he wasn’t furious with him, that Spike’s rage was directed at those who had harmed Xander, at the demons who touched him, at whoever or whatever had done this to Xander.  No, right now Xander would assume it was directed at him and Spike knew Xander was in no shape to deal with that right now.

“I do think it’s best, if you can stand, that is.”  Spike watched as Xander slowly lifted his head to meet Spike’s gaze.  Xander gave a little nod and carefully stood, waving off Spike’s attempt to help.

“I’ve got it.”  He cautiously made his way to the couch, then settled onto the soft leather, the coolness a blessed relief.

“Can you hold anything down?  If so, you probably want some of these.”  Spike held the bottles out.

“Please, that would be, would be great.”  Xander watched as Spike nodded then headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.  Xander tilted his head back and studied the ceiling, trying to slow down his breathing.  The need was clawing at his brain, churning him up as fiercely as the seizures had.  He needed it, and he needed it now.  Eternal seconds later he heard Spike return to the living room, right hand holding out the glass and left holding out an arrangement of painkillers.  Xander simply grabbed the handful and downed them all, draining the glass of water as he did so.  There, not much longer now, just a little while and the pain would dull, the need fed for the moment.

Spike watched as the pain etched in Xander’s face slowly lessened, the tension lines easing somewhat but not disappearing altogether.  He could hear Xander’s heartbeat steady, his breath coming sure and slow.  Better at least, if not completely well.  He could tell the moment the pain medication began to work, some indefinable change in Xander’s posture signaling the beginning of relief.  Now, he had to ask now, before Xander could think too much, before some lie could be thought up.

“Would you care to explain what just happened?  I don’t remember you being an epileptic.”  The quiet question sank into Xander’s mind, the gentle tone catching him off guard, causing him to answer without thinking.

“Nothing much.  Just my dog collar going off.”  Xander continued his perusal of the ceiling, noting the swirls in the paint.  It gave him something to concentrate on, a place to lose himself for a few minutes, an escape from the strangeness of the situation.  Spike wasn’t acting right, the vampire wasn’t feeding from him, wasn’t beating him, wasn’t fucking him and Xander could not understand that at all.  He was Spike’s, bought and paid for, his body Spike’s plaything.  Yet Spike hadn’t harmed him, hadn’t even threatened him, not really.  All he could think is that what he always suspected was true, he wasn’t good enough for the vampire, he never would be.  But still, Spike bought him, that had to mean something.  Xander sighed, setting the matter aside for now.  He’d think about it later, right now he was too battered to concentrate.

“What do you mean your dog collar?  Xander, that doesn’t make any sense.”  Spike frowned, turning the phrase over in his mind.  A sudden thought struck him and he glanced up sharply.  Brain damage.  Christ, why hadn’t he considered that before.  With all the beatings Xander obviously had undergone it was inevitable that he suffered multiple concussions.  Brain damage.  That was the only explanation.

“C’mon, Spike, you’ve seen those invisible fence things, it’s like that.”  Xander dropped his gaze from the ceiling and looked Spike in the eye.  “You know, those collars you put on your dog to keep them in the yard and if they go too far they get shocked.  It’s like that.”  Xander sighed as Spike looked even more confused.  “They put a neural implant in my back.  As long as I stayed with them or with whoever they sent me to, I was fine.  There’s some kind of spell or something that it’s tied to, I don’t really know, Willow,” Xander stopped, the pain of saying her name overpowering the pain in his body.  He started again, quieter now.  “Willow knew more about it, I don’t really understand all the technical stuff.  Anyway, as long as I was with them it never went off, but now that I’m away,” a bitter smile crossed his face, “well, you saw.”

“Bloody hell,” Spike breathed out, appalled.  “That’s, well that’s,”

“Clever, ingenious, wish you thought of it first?”  Xander suggested, stirring a little on the couch.

“No.”  The response was instant and harsh.  “That’s appalling.  How often does it happen?”

“Once a day, usually in the mornings, but I think something’s wrong with it, it’s been going off at weird times, sometimes it doesn’t go off for a day or two and sometimes it goes off two or three times a day.”  Xander rubbed a tired hand across his forehead.  He didn’t want to think about this, let alone talk about it.

Spike stood and began pacing, unconsciously reaching for a cigarette.  “Right, only thing for it then.  Who do I know at Cedars, there has to be someone, maybe that bloke that Adrian gets his stuff from, he has to know someone discrete, and there has to be someone for the scars too, as long as we’re at it, I mean, this is fucking L.A. I’m sure they’ve seen worse, where is the fucking phone, Adrian better be up now, stupid git.” 

“Um, Spike,” Xander watched Spike pace, the drags on the cigarette coming faster and faster.

“Don’t worry, have you taken care of in a bit,” Spike distractedly replied, running over the options in his mind.

“No, Spike, listen, I don’t think you get it,” Xander slowly stood, making his way over to where Spike was pacing.

“Don’t get what,” Spike whirled around, nearly running into Xander.  “Don’t get that you’re being tortured even though you managed to get away, and might I say how amazed I am at that.  Don’t get that you’re going to keep being tortured as long as that, that thing is still in you, don’t get that you’ve been dealing with this for gods only know how long.  I think I get it fine, Xander.  And it’s going to stop, today if I have anything to say about it.  Now, sit back down and let me take care of this.  I will take care of this, don’t you worry.  I will get it out of you.”  Spike turned his back, trying to remember where he dropped the phone.

“You can’t,” Xander started only to step back as Spike whirled around, furious.

“Don’t you begin to tell me what I can and cannot do, mate.  You have no idea what I’m capable of, I’m not neutered anymore, and I can do just about anything that I wish.  Now, sit down or go get something to eat or go get cleaned up while I make the arrangements.”  Spike heard himself screaming but couldn’t make himself stop.  Damn it, he didn’t want to yell at Xander, but this attitude was making him insane. 

"That’s not what I meant, I don’t mean you can’t, I mean it can’t be done.  It can’t be removed.  Don’t you think I would have had it taken out be now if I could, fuck, how stupid do you think I am, do you think I like this, you think I like feeling like my whole body is going to be ripped in two, you think I like knowing that at any moment that thing could go off, you think I want this, you think I want to be in that much pain, how sick do you think I am?” Xander stood toe to toe with Spike, screaming back with all he had.  “You think I like having to take those pills, huh, you think I like it, knowing I’m fucked either way, if I don’t take them the pain from the implant will kill me and if I do take them I’m stuck taking them forever, you think I like it, you think I like being this helpless, do you, do you?”  He stopped, mouth opening in shock at his actions.  “Spike, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, please, I’m sorry,” he started to back away, eyes darting, looking for somewhere to run, to hide, waiting for his punishment.  “I’m sorry, I won’t ever speak to you that way again, please don’t hurt me.”  His voice dropped to a whimper, pleading for the mercy he knew would never come.  The room fell quiet as Xander waited for the blows to begin.  Xander could faintly hear the ticking of a clock as the second stole past, his body quivering, waiting for the pain to begin again.

“Xander,” Spike’s voice finally broke the silence.  “You have nothing to apologize for, I do, I ‘m the one acting like an idiot.  I don’t think you’re stupid and I certainly don’t think you like the pain.  Now, what do you mean it can’t be removed?”  Spike perched on the arm of the couch, hoping that Xander would follow and sit down.  He let out a quiet sigh of relief as Xander automatically moved to the couch and sat down.

“About a year after I escaped, when I had some money, I got checked out to see if the fucking thing could come out.  The doctor did a whole bunch of tests and found out that they put the main part of the implant here, at that base of my spine, then wrapped wires or something like that around and through my spinal cord.” Xander turned so that his back was to Spike as he ran a finger up his spine.  “They embedded the other end right into my brain right about here,” Xander’s fingers moved to the base of his skull.  “It can’t come out.  If anyone tries to take it out, well, at best I’ll be paralyzed, at worse, it’ll kill me.”

“Fuck,” Spike breathed out.  “That’s sick.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Xander turned to look up at Spike.  “You know, payback’s a bitch.”

“What the blazes are you talking about?”  The comment caught Spike completely off guard.  He had no idea what Xander meant.

“Well, all those times I mocked you for the chip.  Now, I’m the one who’s chipped and you aren’t.  Kinda of ironic if you think about it.”  Xander attempted a wan smile. 

Spike let out a harsh laugh.  “I can see your point.”  He didn’t see the point, not really, he didn’t think there was anything ironic about this at all.  Xander had done nothing, nothing to deserve this.  But hells, it was good to see even a glimmer of that wonderful smile.  “I still think we should have you checked out, see if there isn’t something that can be done.”

“I guess,” Xander listlessly picked at his robe.  “Um, I’m kinda hungry.”

“C’mon then, I didn’t get all that food for nothing.”  Spike felt a surge of triumph at the admission.  Hungry was great, no, hungry was bloody fabulous.  Hungry meant Xander was starting to feel something other then pain.  Spike watched Xander carefully as they headed into the kitchen, checking for any signs of distress.  Xander was limping a little more, and his heartbeat was still too fast, but he seemed better.  Baby steps, Spike reminded himself.  Baby steps.  At least now he knew somewhat of what he was dealing with.  Now, now he could begin to fight back

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