These characters don't belong to me, and I make no profit from this story.
Break Away
Xander
twisted in his restraints, trying to work his wrists free. Finally, he gave up
and let himself slump backwards.
He
smiled at Anya, who stood next to the bed, frowning. "An, honey, I'd love
to play, but I have to get ready for work. Can you untie the scarves?"
"No,"
she said. "I can't. You'll have to stay home with me. On the bed."
"Honey,
we can try for a kid later. I promise."
Her
eyes were bright. "You keep saying that. But for the past two weeks, all
you've done is get up and go to work, come home and go to bed. We don't talk. We
don't do any of the fun baby-making stuff."
"I
want a baby, An," Xander protested, staring into her eyes.
Brow
furrowed, she gazed back. He looked away, whispering, "I do, really."
Anya
sat on the edge of the bed. The bedsprings creaked. She played absent-mindedly
with the light covering of hair on his thigh. He twitched. She could smell his
sweat, something that normally made her interested in him – to say the least
– but now it just made her worried. He wasn't sweating with arousal; he was
nervous. She said, "We talked about it, Xander." She fought to keep
her voice mild and unconcerned, but couldn't stop it cracking.
"I'm
sorry," he said quietly. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just
feel – strange lately. A little claustrophobic, or something." A tiny
grin appeared on his face. He nodded at the scarves. "Of course, right now
I've got a good explanation for that."
"It's
late." Anya stood, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I'll let you go," she said, wincing at her choice of words.
****
Xander
twisted in his restraints, trying to work his wrists free. Finally, he gave up
and let himself slump backwards.
He
looked around, vaguely hoping that an escape route would've appeared since the
399th time he'd scanned the cavern. It was huge, dark, echoey, and –
cavernous. Lots of rocks, lots of damp, lots of moss, but nope – no escape
routes.
A
voice floated towards him from the other side of the cavern. "There's no
point struggling." Xander's personal nightmare walked towards him; a huge,
grey demon with enormous horns spiralling up from his temples.
D'Hoffryn.
"My
companions are quite experienced with chains, and you're too weak to do anything
more than collapse in a pathetic heap, even if you were able to break the
chains."
"Thanks
for the vote of confidence," Xander muttered, but it was hard to disagree
with D'Hoffryn's assessment. His arms were rubbery, his legs were non-existent,
and the only thing holding him on his feet were the damn chains. A wave of
dizziness passed over him, leaving him gasping.
D'Hoffryn
grabbed Xander's head. His fingers were icy cold. Xander looked up at him,
trying to focus, trying not to wince. D'Hoffryn took a deep breath. "Muster
your energy, human. I need to refuel my golem."
"Not
again," Xander said in mock amazement. He mustered a grin from somewhere.
"You're not getting enough value outta that thing."
D'Hoffryn's
fingers began to heat. A mild ache blossomed in Xander's skull, then it
transformed into a raging migraine as the pressure in his head built up. He felt
himself vanishing, pushed out of his own mind by the enormous presence of
D'Hoffryn; by D'Hoffryn sucking energy and knowledge from him to send to the
golem. Xander was aware of existing in two bodies simultaneously, of breathing
in two different rhythms and controlling two vastly different circulatory
systems. D'Hoffryn's mind was all around his, squeezing every last drop of
usefulness from him.
Before
he spiralled down into unconsciousness yet again, Xander snagged a passing
thought from D'Hoffryn, "Anyanka should never have left. She will know true
vengeance."
****
Anya
stared up at the ceiling while Xander groaned on top of her. He kissed her
quickly on the forehead then rolled off. He was soon snoring. He was usually the
most considerate of lovers, but lately he was so tired from work that she
thought herself 'lucky' to get ten minutes of sex.
She
turned over, to cuddle up against his back, but he was cold. She turned away
from him and stared at the wall.
****
Xander
felt something cold trickle down his arm. He looked up, expecting to see another
drip of water from the rock formations high above his head, but instead saw
something red. The shackle had finally broken the skin. His wrist was bleeding.
"Oh, great," he said. "Just what I needed. Y'know, it'd be nice
if the blood would stay *inside* me for once."
He
looked down at the tattered remains of his t-shirt and boxer shorts. They failed
to cover the multitude of bruises and cuts on his skin. He stank, from old
blood, fear, and some other stuff that he didn't want to think about. He'd
thought he'd passed the stage of soiling himself when he was five.
A
wiry red demon strode towards him, thoughtfully stroking a large knife. She
cackled softly.
Xander
flinched.
****
"What
do you mean, you want me to go home?"
"You're
in my way, An," Xander explained. He folded his arms. "Look, I don't
see why you have to get emotional about this. I'm rational. Why can't you be
rational?"
"But
I – but you always like having me around," Anya said, shaking her head.
She fought the sudden sting of tears. "Even when you're watching sport. I
do girlfriend stuff. I fetch drinks and snacks and then we make fun of the
players."
"I
just need to be by myself."
Anya
picked up her handbag. It was an excellent copy of a Prada baguette. Xander had
given it to her two months ago, for no particular reason, just because he knew
she wanted it.
She
left silently.
****
"Another
day, human. Just another day. One final task to be completed."
Xander
screamed as D'Hoffryn's hands became incandescently hot. He sensed the golem
through the flames inside his mind, sensed its treatment of Anya, and tried even
harder to hold himself back. Pain licked along his ankle. One of the minor
demons had opened another vein to suck the blood out of him. It was no good. He
was too weak, and D'Hoffryn was too strong.
****
Anya
pulled her hair back, examining herself in the mirror. Her face had become
hollow and gaunt in the last few weeks, with black circles under the eyes.
"I'm
going out," Xander said shortly from the bathroom door.
She
didn't bother to ask where he was going, or when he'd be back.
****
Xander
hung limply from the chains, no longer noticing the pain in his arms. One
thought burned in his mind; that he must get to Anya. Must make it okay. Must
tell her that it wasn't him.
A
hand grabbed him between the legs. He yelped. The demon behind him yanked his
head around. She licked the side of his neck, her rough tongue rasping over the
wounds there. "Sorry to see you go."
"What
– what do you mean?" he asked tiredly. There was no moisture in his
mouth.
"The
final part of the plan is in place. D'Hoffryn's letting you go. No point in
wasting energy killing you."
Xander
didn't question it; just stood there as she undid the shackles. His legs
wouldn't hold him, and he fell to the ground. The demon grunted. She snapped her
fingers. A glass of water materialised. She put it to his lips, muttering under
her breath about humanitarian gestures.
After
a few minutes, he was able to stand. He staggered towards the exit that had
miraculously appeared in the cavern wall.
It
vanished as soon as he was outside. He gazed in wonder at the night sky.
****
"No,
I don't want to," Anya said firmly.
"But
you always wanted to, before," Xander grinned. He pinned her hands above
her head with one of his, leaning his body on hers to keep her still. He ran his
fingers through her hair. "Don't you want to make a baby?"
Anya
tried to stay calm. "Not right now. Let me up."
He
slapped her face lightly. She recoiled, eyes wide. "It's all a game to you,
you little prick-tease. You dress like a slut, you tell me you want it, then
when it comes down to it, you don't." She wriggled underneath him, starting
to panic. He slapped her again, harder.
Then
he flipped her over and slammed her head into the wall.
****
Xander
lurched through the streets of Sunnydale, taking the dark streets. Of course,
there were lots of dark streets. He still felt like ten miles of bad road, but
he was starting to gain a little energy, because no one was draining it from
him. He thought about the last thing he'd sensed in D'Hoffryn's mind, and moved
faster.
****
Anya
couldn't stop the sob from escaping. Xander was behind her, strapping her to the
bed face down. She was too weak and nauseous to fight him. Her head sent jolts
of pain through her every time she moved.
He
laughed. "Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this. It's about time we played things my
way."
****
Xander
punched the door. He swore under his breath. Logically, it was shut, and –
also logically – he didn't have his damn key. He'd have to remember to sleep
with his key on him, in the future. He pressed the buzzer for his apartment
again, praying Anya would answer.
D'Hoffryn's
face swam through his mind again. Suspecting that D'Hoffryn would want him to
see, he crossed his fingers and tried the door again.
It
opened.
****
Anya
felt herself spread open. Cold fingers were inserted into her, probing, poking.
Her head was jerked back uncomfortably, a hand around her mouth. "You
scream, bitch," Xander said conversationally, "and I break your
fucking neck."
Then
she felt the knife.
****
Xander
barrelled through the door to his apartment. "An?" he shrieked
frantically. "An!" The bedroom. They must be in the bedroom.
Xander
raced in and his stomach constricted so hard at what he saw that he nearly threw
up. Anya was tied to the bed, spread-eagled on her stomach. The other him was on
top of Anya, thrusting away, with one hand holding her face, the other hand –
tracing patterns into her back with a knife. Xander screamed wordlessly and
charged. The other man was taken by surprise. He fell off Anya and laid on the
floor next to the bed, grinning up at Xander, eyes gleaming.
Xander
leapt on top of him and punched furiously. Instead of fighting back, the other
him shimmered and vanished. Xander felt himself grow a little stronger as what
D'Hoffryn had taken was fully restored. He bounced upright and started to untie
Anya, tears pouring from him when he saw what had been done to her.
****
"She'll
be all right," Buffy said softly, patting Xander's hand.
He
hoisted himself higher in the bed. "Is she – is she coming to see
me?" The others refused to meet his eyes. Willow turned away, scratching
her head, Giles pretended to be studying something in the hospital grounds
visible through the window, Buffy looked at the floor, and Tara blew her nose.
Finally,
Willow answered, taking his other hand. "I think so, Xand. But I'm not
sure. You have to give her time, okay? I know you were both hurt – and,
Goddess, I wish it hadn't happened, I wish I'd worked out what was going
on," Tara put an arm around Willow as Willow's voice wobbled, "but,
unfair as it is, you have to think about her. She's in hospital, after thinking
that you – that you. . ."
"Raped
her," Xander finished. He picked at the scab next to the IV on his right
arm, focusing on that one tiny pain and ignoring the rest. "Yeah, I know,
you're right."
After
a prolonged silence, Giles said gently, "We'll visit you later this
afternoon." He ushered the others out.
Xander
flicked the TV on. His insurance had paid for a private room, with all the perks
he could've wanted from a hospital – apart from not being in a hospital in the
first place, of course. He ran through the channels. Nothing he wanted to watch.
There
was a tentative knock at the door. Anya shuffled in. She looked impossibly small
in the hospital robe and her pink fuzzy slippers. Her hair was tousled, hanging
around her face.
Silence.
"Hi,"
Xander offered.
"Hi,"
Anya said. "I just – how are you?"
"Good,
thanks," he said, uncomfortably aware of the bruises, cuts, tubes, and
plaster putting the lie to his words. "How are you?"
Her
voice was nearly inaudible. She hadn't moved from her position near the door.
"They cleaned all the cuts out, and gave me some stuff for the concussion.
They want to keep me here for another couple of days, though."
"I'll
be here for a while, too," Xander said. He bit his lip. "Do you
think," he moistened his lips and tried again, "Do you think I could
come see you?"
Anya
didn't respond, but after a while Xander saw her shaking her head minutely.
"No, I don't think so," she said finally.
"I'm
so sorry, An."
Anya
continued, "And I think it would be better if you didn't see me when you
get out, too. Not for a while, anyway." She clasped her hands together at
her waist, staring at them. "I know it wasn't you. I know I should be okay
with you."
"But
you're not," Xander finished softly.
"But
I'm not," she agreed. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand,
then clasped her hands together again. She whispered, "I'm sorry,
Xander."
Then
she left.
