“Do you want to run?” Spike asked, but then cancelled his question almost immediately. But Xander continued kneeling. Then the group as a whole earns rewards for good behavior or punishment for bad. He was tempted to tilt his neck and invite death, but he knew he didn’t have that choice either, so he told himself to just accept whatever Spike did. “Messy git.” Spike chucked as he lowered Xander’s legs and helped Xander up. Soon enough, he heard Spike say, “Heel,” as he headed out of the room without even pausing. If they were eating with demons, the demons would be impressed with Xander’s training, and Spike would be able to get some relief by having Xander finish the job under the table like at the food court at the auction. This trainer had another approach; a second slave in the ring went into the correct position and a handler standing behind him stroked the slave’s hair and put a treat in his mouth. He was doubly grateful for the leash that reminded him that not all things were possible. Pet, just tell me the story.” Spike’s hand pulled Xander’s chin up until Xander ended up looking into Spike’s eyes, but that almost made it worse because Xander could see the Master who had tried to help him, but he could also see the pathetic excuse for a vampire who had crawled to the Slayer for help, a slayer Spike had killed, but then Joyce didn’t blame him, so Xander didn’t have a right to either. He twitched again, pulling his bound hands slightly away from his back to try to stretch a little, but when the boots in front of him turned toward him, Xander immediately stilled. And Spike accused him of being stupid? He hated the stairs both because of the near impossibility of keeping his ribbons from being disturbed and because the lack of up and down movement of the circling bar meant that he had to bend as he climbed in order to avoid breaking the ribbon. "Rupert, I swear....I might not take an ax to your head like I did with William, but I'm starting to think that I have a frying pan with your name on it. Xander couldn’t move any part of his body except fingers and toes, and since he’d once seen the fingers cut off a slave who refused to stop flexing his hands, he’d learned not to move those either. He could see it in the way that Spike flexed his fingers and didn’t make eye contact with the various slavers speaking to him. He couldn’t survive this guilt again. By the time they had visited every booth and watched two slave auctions, one of female humans with magical talents and one of female humans with supposed powers as seers, Spike looked much the way Xander remembered him after the chip first went in. “Yeah, mark him and I’ll take him on a short walk to work out his legs.” Xander felt the pen at his back, writing a humiliating number on his back, right where his chains would hang when he stood again. Spike continued circling after stopping right after he made his comment, no doubt to see if Xander would slip. It’s alright.” Spike continued rubbing his back comfortingly, and Xander resigned himself to the fact that now they all knew just how pathetic he could be. “Of course, I never could have trained him this well. He remembered the way Spike had looked when he talked about William breaking, Xander remembered the sort of tortures demons liked to use, and he knew enough about demons in general and Angelus in specific that he could fill in the missing blanks just fine. Pet, are you trained to voice?” Spike asked and Xander would have slapped Spike upside the back of the head if he could. Spike led them back to the main area where he’d bought blood yesterday, and Xander went to his knees as Spike walked up to a counter. The assistant trainer pulled the boards back, and Xander felt the tug at his collar warn him to pick up the pace. “We have our own way out, Red. Spike suddenly knelt next to him, a cool hand cupping his cheek and forcing him to look right into his Master's blue-blue eyes. “10,000,” a voice called, and the crowd gasped. When Xander finally got his knees under him, he found a game-faced Spike snarling at a Lirowaus who heaved great breaths as he squirmed on the floor. He could imagine Buffy’s face and Giles’ furious glasses cleaning. “Leshar?”. Instead he kept his eyes lowered and his voice soft as he answered. Knowing that his sore tongue and mouth couldn't perform well for much longer, and not even knowing how long he had now teased and tormented Spike who writhed in his chains, Xander moved back to the front and took the hard cock in his mouth. He was embarrassing himself and his Master. "Stop tryin' ta avoid hittin' me," Spike snarled, and Xander realized with a start that he had been avoiding the killing moves Spike had shown him. Maybe that's why he took the name Angelus and destroyed his human past. "You have made this deal, will you now honor it, my pretty little one?". He could take normal steps, but he certainly couldn’t run he decided as he followed Spike out the door, carefully keeping his hip chains flowing even as he tried to keep his step short enough to not strain his hobble chains and remain totally still in his upper body so that his back chains and cuff traces didn’t move and who the hell ever thought walking could require so much concentration? He knew he couldn't hurt the boy and he wasn't going to argue and swear to his honorable intentions. “You bloody wanker,” Spike hissed still in game face. Xander and Buffy's anger and hurt was because they loved Anya and Spike. "I know, Master." “Ya always did do things a little back-asswards, pet.”. Xander looked over to Angel to see if he would offer some words of support. Xander bounced in nervousness on the floor once or twice: his growing awareness of his own unhealthy need for his Master warring with that raw, undeniable need, and then he sprang up and followed Joyce closely at heel. He heard Spike's low rolling growl and he cringed. The Xander version of the Cycle of Life. Xander flashed back to his first lesson with a score of minions on hand to force his body into the required positions and hold him there; one demon hand always held his cock as a convenient way to get a stubborn slave to go to his knees. It didn’t scare him or worry him, he just expected it. "Thought of just runnin' when the Initiative went down, but I'd made her a promise, and chip or no, I'll soddin well put the Scoobies back together if it's the last thing I do.". Xander knew that part of it was his own outrageous behavior. No, really? Spike was Master now and he would think good thoughts of Master, at least while Master was in the room. He wordlessly slipped behind Spike, ignoring the cocked eyebrow so that he could finish properly by washing his Master’s hair. “No. ", "What? Xander wished he could ignore the feeling that something bad was coming even as he tried to ignore the fact that his tattoo was starting to itch. "Xander, are you all right?" "And what is that, my little pup?" Xander resisted the urge to point out that he had done the hard work. "I'll submit without fighting." “A promise, Master?” Xander nearly whispered the request, knowing that it was almost sacrilege for a slave to ask for a promise, but Spike had wanted to know what it took to keep Xander sane, and Xander suspected that he needed the promise because sanity was running a little thin. I shouldn’t want to keep things for myself, and I know I earned punishment for thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking,” Xander whispered, as close to crying as he’d been I in a long time. “Please, Master. The sound of a door opening and closing almost sent Xander out of position, but he could still hear Spike's footsteps, so he let himself relax into the awkward position. As Spike started the car, punk music started and Xander realized that he wasn’t going to get any answers so he would just have to wait and find out when they got there. “No one will ever touch you again without my permission. “Glinda, Red?” Spike called, and the witches as well as Angel and Giles turned. He uncurled his fingers from the coat and dreaded the loss of that protection even as he started to push it off his back and toward Spike. The black chains ran from knee to knee and from ankle to ankle with decorative chains running down the inside of his legs. Xander struggled to form words short enough to not trigger the queasy feeling he got when he talked too much but that would actually say something important. Spike thrust in and out several times before freezing in place. “He’s adapted to the sleeping cage. Pull forward, pup.” Xander started to pull forward, but the thing in him held him in an inescapable grasp. At this rate, Xander was going to have a shamefully short round. “Not any more. “Can’t you pretend to be interesting in buying another human, Master?”
Leshar--Xander had never before known his trainer’s name, and somehow Leshar just didn’t sound evil enough for a demon that had done the things to Xander that Leshar had done. "Bloody hell, no," Spike protested, and Xander flinched at going against his master, but Spike had taught him that sometimes it was right to break the rules.
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