== present ==

Spike looked in the sparkling green eyes of the witch as she 
considered his story and his request. He remembered how innocent and 
young she had been at one time. Her hair had been like living flame 
and her eyes were dazzling emeralds that had gazed out at a world 
with a sense of wonderment and awe. He spared a brief moment to 
wonder what she would have been like if events had gone differently, 
if Angelus had been destroyed instead of the destroyer. 

What would the world be like if this one young girl *had* found the 
lost spell that would have returned his Sire's soul instead of the 
spell she *did* find? Granted, he wasn't upset that she had managed 
to stop him from opening up Hell, he *did* enjoy the world, thanks 
much, but still... Would Willow have managed to hold onto her 
innocence and her love of life if she hadn't been the only survivor 
from her group of friends? Would things have gone better if the 
Slayer and the cheerleader had not been killed and Xander hadn't been 
captured by Dru and Angelus only to be held as a mortal pet for over 
a year? 

He didn't know, but this wasn't the time to muse on this. A new group 
of demon fighters had moved into Sunnyhell, and these blokes weren't 
working with the new Slayer. These guys were commando's and they 
guarded a secret government laboratory that conducted experiments on 
demons. 

Spike and Dru had been captured by the Initiative together. They had 
finally had to stake the insane vampiress. She had seen another one 
of her visions and when she went into the prophecy-raving trace state 
the stupid bloody scientists refused to let Spike try to help her nor 
would they listen to his instructions on her care. She hadn't 
survived their tender mercies. 

His Sire had managed to evade the commando's, but Spike didn't have 
any idea where he was. That was what he needed help with. Well, one 
of the things. He needed to find his Sire and he needed to find a way 
to remove the implanted chip from his skull. And right now, he didn't 
know where else to turn. After the whole debacle two years ago, 
Drusilla and Willow had begun a tentative truce when the immortal 
prophetess saved the red-haired girl's life from a few fledglings out 
for a feed. According to Dru, the 'magical tree' would grow to be a 
shady shelter for the lost and the damned. That sounded about what 
*he* needed right now. Shady shelter.

Finally, Willow interrupted his increasingly morbid musings. Taking a 
deep breath and obviously gathering her power around her until she 
almost shimmered with magic, Willow stepped back from the open 
doorway.

"Come in Spike." 


== flashback ==

Xander Harris trembled in fear as he huddled in the corner. His fear 
was an icy iron ball in the pit of his stomach, consuming him from 
the inside out. It had already overtaken and wiped clean his vengeful 
anger and his sarcastically barbed wit. The swirling maelstrom of his 
thoughts were chaotic and without form under the onslaught of such 
intense and sustained emotion. Only a few undeniable and inescapable 
facts stood out, slicing into his mind like frost coated razors.

Amy's spell hadn't worked right. *Cordelia* didn't love him... 
*Drusilla* did.

He had been Drusilla's personal *pet* for three months and *no one* 
had come to save him... and pretty soon, there wouldn't be anyone 
*left* who could save him.

Shuddering with a chill that was born in his soul as opposed to on 
his naked flesh, Xander shifted his body slightly, being careful not 
to rattle the chain that ran from the manacle on his left leg to the 
iron ring imbedded in the stone floor. Risking a glance up to check 
on his Mistress and her Sire, Xander saw that they were both too 
involved in their bloody violent sex games to pay attention to him. 
That was... good. 

Taking a slow breath in, he didn't even notice that the air hitched 
and caught in his throat on his thick choking emotions. Bracing 
himself for being yelled at (at the least) or mind numbing pain (at 
the worst), Xander leaned forward and stretched out with one bruised 
and bitten arm until he could curl his (mostly whole) fingers through 
Cordelia's soft dark hair.

The silky feel of those long thick locks broke Xander's heart into a 
thousand shards and he felt a wave of goosebumps raise up all over 
his scared and lash-marked skin. Then, he twisted the brown hair 
around his fist and pulled the object of his obsession to him. 

Futilely trying to stifle a gasping sob, Xander cradled the beautiful 
face he had worshipped with his entire being since he had first 
discovered the female half of the population. A gentle finger ran 
down the soft skin of her cheek as he stared deeply into her dead 
dull eyes. He had craved her and wanted her... but *not* like this. 
Never like this...

"Oh look Daddy! It's soooo sweat and precious. My lovely little kitty-
pet is playing with his lovely new toy."

Xander's head jerked up and unthinking fear swept over his mind as he 
found himself staring into the full gameface's of Angelus and 
Drusilla from where they peered down at him from the immense bed. 
Tremors racked his thin frame and he flinched back into the corner as 
far as he could. Angelus saw this and smirked at him.

"See my beloved. I *told* you that would be a good present to get 
Harris here. He's *always* wanted that little slut and now he can 
have her... and it's all because of you... my wonderfully naughty 
girl."

Drusilla preened at the praise from her Sire and turned a fang filled 
smile of happiness at the mortal chained up in the corner of her 
bedroom. Xander felt those glowing eyes rake over his exposed flesh 
and settle onto the *gift* she had presented to him in a gold-foil 
wrapped box earlier in the evening. Clutching Cordelia's decapitated 
head closer to his chest, Xander hissed at the vampires and scooted 
back further into his corner.

"*Mine* You *gave* her to me. *Mine*!"

The two vampires on the soft blood stained bed blinked in mild 
surprise at his vocal audacity and then burst out into deep rumbling 
laughter of mirth and amusement. Xander's skin crawled and shivered 
at the sound, even as his cock began to harden at the attention and 
focus being directed upon him by the only two creatures he had been 
allowed contact with since his imprisonment began so very long ago.

== present ==

Spike scowled from where he stood leaning up against the side of his 
DeSoto. Glaring at the tall brick wall and the black wrought-iron 
gates, the bleached blonde vampire wondered if this would really 
work. Not that he didn't trust the witch's spell. Willow had cast two 
spells the night he visited her. One to find Angelus and one to tell 
her what could be done about the blasted chip in his head. Spike 
didn't like either answer.

To the first question, Willow couldn't give a complete answer since 
strong and powerful magics were set specifically to hide his Sire. 
She could only tell that he was still alive... as if were, and that 
he was surrounded by a strong aura of mage-shielding. Beyond that was 
anyone's guess.

To the second question, Willow had seen the face of her oldest 
childhood friend. It was at that point that she had broken down, her 
emotions finally getting the best of her. Even as she tossed his 
undead ass out into the street on a wave of powerful shimmering blue 
energy, he understood and didn't mind. 

Xander Harris had been her closest friend, somewhere between a 
brother and a soulmate. And his own beloved Sister and Sire had 
driven the boy stark raving mad. Spike had very little to no contact 
with the boy at that particular time. For most of it, he'd been out 
of his Sire's good graces and out of Dru's bed as well. He'd been 
wheelchair bound and righteously pissed off at the world. While Spike 
spent most of his time sulking with the fledges, Dru and Angelus had 
tortured the boy mercilessly. They'd killed off all of his friends 
with the exception of Willow and all of his family as well. Then, in 
a fit of Miss Edith induced madness, Dru had cooked up a magic potion 
and mixed it with her own blood. Forcing the boy to drink it, she'd 
then cursed him with psychic powers. 

Now years later, after his amazing escape during a move across the 
country, Xander was imprisoned here at Los Angeles State Hospital for 
the Criminally Insane. Spike wasn't too sure what the boy had done to 
wind up here, but after being kept on a chain as Dru's personal pet 
mortal for over a year he figured that he probably had a flashback 
and tried to stake someone or something like that.

Sighing, Spike shoved his thoughts aside and pushed himself away from 
his car. Walking along the parameter of the wall, he considered his 
options. Normally, he'd just barge in the front gate and kill and 
maim his way to the boy, but he couldn't do that. The bloody chip 
would fry his brains into a puddle of smoking mush if he even 
attempted it.

So, that meant he had to resort to his old way of doing things. Pre-
Angelus thought patterns slowly emerged from the hidden depths of his 
memory. He needed to case the joint and find out where everything, 
including Dru's kitty-pet was. He had to get in, get the boy, and 
then get out again. Preferably all without running into any of the 
guards or medical staff. Then, once they were back out, they had to 
get away from here and to someplace where the boy could do whatever 
it was that Willow saw him do in her spell.

Finally completing his circuit around the grounds and a plan 
beginning to form in his mind, Spike climbed back into the DeSoto and 
drove off into the night. He needed to feed, get somewhere to rest 
for the day and then try out his plan.

Part Two  

== flashback ===

Xander gulped down a deep choking breath of air, violent tremors 
raking his tortured muscles as he strained against his bonds for one 
never-ending moment before he collapsed, handing limply from his 
wrists. The muscles and ligaments in his arms and shoulders stretched 
and groaned against his weight and his head lolled back on his tired 
neck. Greasy sweat glistened on his skin and rolled in rivulets down 
his back to sting and burn as it mixed with the streams of blood 
oozing from the lash marks that criss-crossed his whip flayed skin.

The flames burning up the wicks of the candles scattered about within 
his line of sight flickered and danced from the stirring of the air 
currents and then he felt a blessedly cool breeze caress his 
screaming and agonized flesh. A low deep voice rumbled throughout the 
room speaking words that Xander's ravaged mind couldn't quite 
comprehend, but he *did* recognize his Mistress's squeal of happiness.

Angelus.

Her beloved daddy...

Xander didn't know if he should sing praises and thanks to the Saints 
of Heaven for the Master Vampire coming in to distract her, thus 
inadvertently giving him a respite from the searing pain born from 
the kiss of the whip. He now had a chance to catch his breath and to 
gather up his inner reserves of strength. He had time to swallow the 
pain down instead of letting it consume him and turn him inside out 
until all he knew was pleasure, unholy rapture of *finally* breaking 
and *becoming* his pain. 

Maybe instead, he should curse and damn the Demons of Hell for the 
Master Vampire's ill-timed visit that distracted his beloved Drusilla 
and giving him this unasked for respite from the beating. A chance to 
catch his breath and gather his strength would prolong his decent 
into the swirl of sensation that was destined to overtake him, 
pulling him down into it and making him a part of it. He could feel 
his adrenaline rush slow down and curl into his toes and he doubted 
that he could *dive* into the darkness at this point. No, he'd have 
to be dragged back to the sublime level of surrender... kicking and 
screaming the entire way.

Xander was pulled from his swirling contemplation of the meaning of 
pain and the depths of suffering that it took to unbend one's mind 
from it's anchor as a cool wet tongue traced a thin trail along the 
edge of his spine. Sparks of agonized white flared behind his eyes as 
that wet muscle touched each individual welt even as he shivered from 
the soothing pleasure of the very *coolness* and *gentleness* 
showered upon him.

Finally, that torturously slow lick reached the top of his spine and 
then that lushly evil mouth nuzzled at his neck. Xander tilted his 
head to the side as far as it could go, exposing his neck and the 
rich blood pounding right below the surface of his skin. A low hiss 
of pleasure caressed his ear only seconds before razor sharp fangs 
pierced his flesh, digging into him, burrowing into his very soul. 
Pain spiced liberally with pleasure sang through his veins as those 
cool dead lips sucked down on the freshly made wounds on his throat. 
He could *feel* the pull on his lifeforce as his blood fled his body 
only to slip down the maw of his Mistress's Sire. 

"Aaaahhh..."

The rough sound of his own voice echoed around his head and even he 
could not say if it was a demand for the demon to stop drinking from 
him... or a plea for him to take ever more. Angelus swallowed down 
another sticky red mouthful and Xander's hard throbbing cock cast the 
deciding vote by jerking and twitching at the sensation.

Delighted and completely insane giggles wrested his attention from 
his draining life and back out into the room where his body hung by 
chains from an iron hook imbedded in the ceiling at the exact center 
of the candlelit room. The sound, like so much broken glass upon his 
raw and bleeding nerves, forced his dark eyes to open and gaze upon 
She Who Rules his Universe. 

Drusilla.

The vampiress stood before him wearing nothing more than bright red 
splashes of his own blood upon her pale silken skin. Dark lush hair 
swirled around her face and shoulders, enhancing the deep shadows 
that lived in her eyes and mind. She held a bright edged knife in one 
small delicate hand and it's keen blade glowed from the reflection of 
the flickering candle flames.

Xander shivered, each tiny wave of movement sparking little pinpoints 
of agony across the surface of his ravaged skin. And only one thought 
swirled through his damaged mind. 

Beautiful. 

She was so beautiful, from the down fine hair on her arms to the 
glowing whiteness of her skin to the demon bright yellow of her eyes 
to the glistening death of her fangs. His cock jumped at the 
enchanting sight of her standing before him.

"I think he like's it when you bite and nip upon him Daddy. He's so 
tender and juicy, my little kitty-pet is, and he's *so* lovely in his 
endless suffering. His mind twists and bends and he quivers and 
flinches even as his dark dark eyes beg for more more more... Let us 
ride his body and his soul. Let us twist him and turn him until the 
stars cry his name in the terrible heat of the day."

Xander flinched and moaned in horrible loss when Angelus slid his 
fangs from the bruised flesh of his neck. His whole body stretched 
towards the demon, silently begging for more even when his lips knew 
no words to explain the *hunger* that grew deep in the back of his 
skull. That hunger which fed upon his own living terror and his own 
horrifying and irrefutable darkness. In response to his pain born 
whimper and the burning *need* clear to any who merely looked for it, 
Angelus ran a gentle and teasing fingertip down his shoulder in a 
swirling circular pattern.

"Mmmm... my naughty little girl. You are thinking dirty thoughts 
again, but that is why I cherish you so very much. Yes, let's... kill 
him with kindness, as if were. We can make him feel so good, can't 
we?"

Drusilla threw back her head and laughed a deep rich laugh of joy and 
happiness as she danced around in a small circle. The flickering 
candlelight threw ever changing patterns of light and shadow along 
the curves and hollows of her body as if the bright flames were her 
secret lover, caressing her and teasing her to heights of pleasure. 

Xander felt himself grow jealous of the light that touched her. It 
should be *him*. He wanted to wrap himself like living liquid worship 
across her body only to seep into her very essence, to become a part 
of her and to never leave her. He... *wanted* and the rough deep 
whisper of his voice reached not *her* ears, but the ears of her 
maker.

"To be her tears... The agonized pleasure of being born in *her* 
eye... to live out my life upon the silken white of *her* cheek... 
only to die, in hope and desire upon *her* soft full lips... Yes... 
if only *I* could be her tears..."

Then the gentle fingers that had been caressing his back and teasing 
sparks of hot pain from his multitude of welts dragged up the skin of 
his neck to grasp a painfully tight hold upon his hair. Angelus 
yanked his head back, but Xander's eyes never left the dancing form 
of his Mistress.

"Don't worry little mortal... You *are* her tears... and you *will* 
die upon her lips. I like you enough to grant you that one request... 
In fact, I think I'll be there to watch... You'd make me a lovely 
GandeChilde. After all, you already crave the pain and the bloody 
kisses more than most minions and you're a *human*. Just imagine the 
depths of depravity you could reach with a demon rolling under that 
tender skin of your's?"

Xander's soul flinched away in horror and gibbering fear even as his 
throbbing pain riddled body pressed tightly against the Master 
Vampire, a silent entreaty. A dark soft chuckle tickled his neck and 
he felt the two newest puncture marks on his skin throb and ache with 
emptiness. Then, in a lightening fast move, Angelus shifted and 
buried his thick marble erection between the bloodied globes of his 
ass and thrust deeply inside his suddenly stuffed full bowels. 

A harsh thready scream was torn from his raw and bloody vocal cords.

== present ==

Spike stood outside the wrought iron gates of the Los Angeles State 
Hospital for the Criminally Insane and shifted nervously. Glancing 
around and trying to find the nerve to start this ball rolling, he 
tossed his cigarette onto the ground and snubbed it out with the toe 
of his scuffed Doc Martin. He wasn't sure *how* this would turn out, 
but he was getting desperate. 

He could barely stomach the pig's and cow's blood that he was forced 
to buy or steal from the butcher's shop and he *longed* to be able to 
hunt and fuck and kill the warm-blooded and hapless humans that 
wandered around the city. The thrill of stalking hunting and chasing, 
the pleasure of biting tearing and killing as he drank down the rich 
sweet liquid iron pumped directly from a quivering terror-filled 
heart had been *ripped* from him. Hell, he'd even been slammed into a 
migraine headache strong enough to thrust him into agonized 
wakefulness after he'd dreamt of stalking and slaughtering some 
luscious little girl. 

Enough was enough. 

He was a hunter and a killer. Not because of some twisted bit of 
insanity inside his head, but because he was a *demon*. It was what 
he had been born and bred to do. Killing wasn't a kink for him in the 
sense of a mortal serial killer, it was how he *survived*. Granted, 
he enjoyed the killing, but this whole situation was a threat to his 
very existence. 

And the witch had promised him that Xander Harris could fix him.

Taking a deep unneeded breath to try and pull his scattered thoughts 
together, Spike sauntered over to the side of the gate where a black 
metal box hung from the brick wall. He pressed down on a small white 
button and turned his head slightly to catch the sight of an 
electronic security camera, it's little red light blinking at the 
top. Shortly, a small staticy voice hissed from the small speaker 
under the button.

"Yes?"

Spike raised up his scared eyebrow, but didn't argue with the seeming 
ridiculousness of the whole setup. He figured that the extreme 
security measures were due to the mortal's who ran this place being 
afraid of the one's they imprisoned here and not the thought that 
someone would break into the place.

"Right. Uh... I'm here to visit a patient. I'm a... friend. Knew him 
real good a few years back, but then I... went abroad. Came back to 
look him up and they told me he was... living here."

There was a moment of silence and Spike wondered if the loons that 
they kept under lock and key at this joint were not allowed to have 
visitors. Or if perhaps they were allowed, but they just didn't have 
too many on the outside as wanted to visit. The blonde vampire was 
jolted out of his speculation suddenly when the static filled 
electronic voice spoke once again.

"Okay. I'll buzz you through the gate. Follow the main drive around 
the the side entrance. Go inside through the white painted doors and 
walk up to the main reception desk. The duty nurse will be able to 
help you."

Spike nodded absently and turned back to his car. Climbing into the 
DeSoto, he started the engine and watched as the big wrought iron 
gates slid open on greased tracks. He didn't have to worry about not 
being able to get onto the grounds or into the hospital. The security 
guard had issued him a invitation. Putting his car in gear, Spike 
eased it past the gate and onto the main drive. 

The hospital grounds were surprisingly well manicured and cared for. 
Lush grass and neatly trimmed bushes and beds of colorful flowers 
abounded. There were park benches scattered about and even a few 
umbrella tables with chairs. Spike wasn't sure if this is where the 
staff visited for their lunch break or if the less violent and more 
easily controlled patients were allowed to roam in the sunshine. If 
the latter was the case, he wondered if Dru's kitty-pet would be 
counted among the privileged few. Probably not... the mortal had been 
too found of playing hide and seek with Dru. And any mortal trained 
to run and hide by a vampire who wanted to practice her hunting 
skills would be able to get away from a group of overly muscled 
orderlies.

The winding drive was fairly short and Spike soon found himself in 
the main parking area. It was a quick matter of finding an empty spot 
close to the doors and in moments, Spike was out of his vehicle and 
crossing the shadow strewn lot. Making his way to the twin white 
doors he'd been told he'd find, the bleached blonde vampire opened 
the door and stepped inside. He had to blink a few times to allow his 
eyes to adjust to the bright florescent lighting in the atrium after 
the soothing darkness of the early evening. 

Looking around, he found the main front desk and the plump dark 
haired woman with the thick glasses sitting behind it. She was typing 
information into a computer from a pile of paper lying next to her. 
As soon as his attention focused on her, his preternatural senses 
began to sift and gather information about her. She wore a light 
flowery perfume that barely disguised the minty-medicinal smell of 
some sort of ointment or another. Her heartbeat was steady and sure, 
pumping blood through strong healthy veins, however her breathing was 
labored and strained as if she was suffering from a mild case of 
asthma. She radiated an aura of living warmth and Spike imagined that 
he could almost taste her thick living blood splash upon his hungry 
tongue. 

A small sizzle of pain flashed across his skull and he hissed. 
Snarling internally at the thrice damned chip lodged in his brain 
that made even *thoughts* of lovely violence a painful thing, Spike 
took slow measured steps towards her. He tried to twist his features 
into a soft and comforting smile as the woman glanced up from her 
work at him. He knew that he came across as intimidating and 
dangerous, even when he *wasn't* planning to drain the life out of 
some tasty mortal. He was a predator... and prey could instinctively 
sense this. The woman stiffened up slightly, but then made a 
conscious effort to relax before addressing him.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

Spike smiled his most charming and innocent smile. He knew it would 
miss it's mark slightly, but if he oozed sexual promise, she might 
just overlook the killer gleam in his eyes. Games of distraction and 
illusion where something he'd learned at his Sire's knee and Angelus 
was a pastmaster at wrapping mortals around his little finger. Spike 
smirked inside his head as the slight scent of arousal and heat 
drifted across his nose.

"Yeah luv, I'm hoping you just might. See, I'm hear to visit a long 
lost friend of mine. We was mates as... young children. I had to go 
abroad to live with me Aunt and Uncle when me Mum fell ill. Lost 
track of each other, we did. Stopped back to the States for a quick 
visit and when I looked the bloke up, found out he was a guest 
here... Was hoping to pay m' respects before I headed back across the 
pond."

Spike had deliberately thickened his accent while he spoke and he 
allowed one of his fingers to trace invisible patterns along the 
surface of her desk as he shamelessly flirted with the mortal. He'd 
had over a century of practice at toying with his food and he knew 
which buttons to push to get the reaction that he wanted. The musky 
scent of arousal grew thicker and he could feel the warmth of blood 
rush to the surface of her cheeks. He flashed her a slight smile and 
graced her with a long look into his bright blue eyes. Her heart rate 
speed up slightly and he found himself hungering for a taste of her 
blood... so close and yet. Damn chip! So far away...

"Who is your friend, Mr?..."

Spike listened to her voice trail off in question and he let his 
smile melt into a slightly sheepish grin. Charming to the last.

"Oi, my manners. Sorry luv. I'm William, William Bradford. And I'm 
here to visit Alexander Harris."

Her eyes dimmed with confusion for a quick moment as she tried to 
place the name. Spike could *see* when the recognition hit her. Her 
frame stiffened up slightly and her eyes grew just a touch colder and 
her face twitched with sadness before sliding smoothly into a 
professional mask. Spike's internal curiosity turned up a notch at 
that. He wondered what Dru's kitty-pet had done to earn such a 
reaction.

"Well, Mr. Bradford, your friend is quite... ill. I don't think he'll 
be anything like you remember him."

Spike tried not to laugh out loud at *that* statement. If she only 
*knew* what his memories of the mortal consisted off, she'd run away 
from him screaming in abject horror. He didn't have a chance to 
comment one way or the other however, before she began to speak again.

"In any case, we generally don't allow visitors during the evening, 
only the day. However, with you only being in town for a short visit 
and the fact that Mr. Harris has never had *any* other visitor... 
perhaps the doctor would make an exception to the rules."

Spike smiled encouragingly at her as she turned and picked up her 
phone. He watched as she dialed an internal number from memory and 
allowed his thoughts to roam. 

So, Xander never got any visitors. Not too surprising as the only 
person still left alive that would even remember him or care was 
Willow. And the witch had her own scars to tend to. She probably 
found the very idea of visiting him to be far to painful. Xander had 
escaped his pain by delving into madness and Willow had escaped her's 
by losing herself in her magic. The witch literally lived on top of 
the Hellmouth. She had stopped Angelus from ripping it open, but when 
the Mayor reached his ascension, he had done something to it and it 
became a conduit for power and strength, if not an open gateway for 
solid flesh. Then, with the need to monitor and control it, he had 
built a large house upon it. And Willow lived there, guarding it for 
him and preventing it from tearing open any further. No... she was 
far to busy to come all this way just to stare into the broken eyes 
of her oldest friend and wonder if he even recognized her.

"Mr. Bradford?"

Spike was jerked out of his thoughts and he spun around to find the 
duty nurse gazing at him with a clipboard full of papers in her hand. 
With a shudder, he forced his killing instincts back and offered up a 
lazy smile to her instead of her own death.

"Yes ducks? What is it?"

Flashing him a triumphantly conspiratorial smile, she stretched out 
her arm and dropped the clipboard into his open hand.

"The doctor has agreed to allow you to go up and visit your friend 
Mr. Harris. They are readying him now. I just need you to fill out 
these visitor forms for our records. The doctor will be up shortly to 
take you to him."

Spike smiled at her.

"Thanks luv. I knew you could do it. My... father always said that 
secretaries ruled the world. They know which strings to pull and 
which ones to cut."

He offered her up a sexy wink and she beamed at the praise even as 
she blushed at his flirting. Taking the forms and a pen, Spike walked 
over to sit down on one of the vinyl covered chairs that lined the 
wall. Glancing quickly through the small stack of forms, he paused 
slightly. 

The first one was something like what he expected. It was your basic 
form that required you to give up all sorts of legal information 
about yourself. Name, birth date, address and such. That wasn't a 
problem, Spike *did* have a false identity after all. In fact, he had 
three.

No, it was the form *under* that one that had given him a slight 
internal giggle. It was a legal document that would release the 
hospital from responsibility if Xander somehow managed to kill him or 
cause him grievous bodily injury. Spike wondered what they would say 
if he admitted that he was already dead and then he wondered if it 
was *just* Xander and other violent types who required this form... 
or if *all* the patient's visitors had to fill it out. And if it 
*was* just the really nasty case's, what had *Xander* done to get on 
that honored list?

== flashback ==

Xander sat huddled up in the corner of the ugly green couch, his arms 
clasped tightly around his pajama clad knees as he rocked back and 
forth, back and forth. He had been here for two whole weeks and he 
was confused and bored and unsure of what to make of anything. His 
dark Mistress would *surely* come for him soon. He *had* to get away 
from these people and this sterile and endless *now* that held him 
here. 

No one beat him, kicked him, cut him or even whipped him. No one bit 
into his flesh and drank his soul or made him feel exquisite pain and 
torturous pleasure in equal amounts until they mixed and melded 
inside of him as his whole body literally *quivered* from the 
overwhelming sensations.

Instead the coddled and pampered and cleaned him as they shuffled him 
from sunlit room to sunlit room. Soft soothing voices whispered at 
him that it was 'okay' and everything would 'be fine' and that they 
would 'help'. But it *wasn't* fine and okay and he didn't *want* 
help. He wanted to go *home*. Home to his Mistress and her Sire and 
her Brother and the endless pain and yearning. 

He didn't understand this world nor did he relate to these people. 
These warm living people that breathed and pulsed and throbbed with 
*life* and hope and dreams. He turned his mind inward and away from 
their eyes and their voices. He listened to the whispering sing-song 
hiss that his Mistress had taught him to hear. She could hear the 
stars speak to her of things to come, but *he* could hear the very 
stones of the earth and it told him *how* to do things. 

Even now it's dark slithering voice coiled around his mind and 
tingled up his spine and it asked him to *remember*.

[ Angel wouldn't *do* that! But he's not Angel anymore, he's 
*Angelus* and he is going to break open the mouth of *Hell*! And you 
need a stake so you can turn his minions into *dust* and save the 
girl with the shinny blonde hair that he *loves*! The Slayer and the 
Watcher and the Witch are *calling* you to do battle and you *need* 
to feel the *violence* and the *pain* calls out to you and it sings 
in your veins. ]

Xander shivered and rocked faster as his liquid dark eyes swept the 
room. A small black and white television caged high up on the wall 
near the ceiling bubbled with mindless cheer as it spouted the 
miracle of dish detergent. Old mismatched furniture was scattered 
about the room as mental patients shuffled about aimlessly or sat in 
odd groupings to play checkers and cards. Three large men in crisp 
white uniforms stood guard at the doors and at the water fountain.

[ Hurry hurry hurry to the fight. Save the world and keep the 
Hellmouth *closed* and pick up your weapon and *shove* the wooden 
point *deep* into the unbeating heart as a shower of unholy dust 
coats your body in sparkling shimmers. And blood pounding through 
muscle and vein as *pain* and *violence* and *hurt* rule your heart 
and mind. *Kill*. Kill the minions and *save* the blonde Slayer and 
the Watcher and they will not *die* and *this* time you will win and 
it will be different and you will *not* be lost to the pain and the 
dark. ] 

Xander rocked in his small corner and no one cared and no one watched 
as he looked about the room. Warm living bodies shuffled past and he 
blinked. He could *feel* the hot living aura of their souls slide 
away to be replaced by the coldly burning *hunger* of the demon. Tan 
skin gave way to white marble and *he* was the human and at the same 
time he was the *hunter* and he *knew* what he had to do to save his 
friends from the fate they had already suffered. He wanted it to be 
different *this* time around.

[ Hurry hurry hurry before it's too late. You need a weapon, a 
*stake* to drive into their unbeating hearts and the minions will fly 
into stardust before you. *Will* a weapon into existence and _THIS_ 
is how you create it. A stake *your* stake, go now and fight and kill 
and kill and kill... ]

Knowledge of *how* to just reach out his arm and twist his fingers 
*just so* and then a bending popping sensation flares white hot pain 
just behind his eyes and the small wooden table next to his ugly 
green couch *explodes* into fragments and splinters. And in his hand 
he holds a perfectly formed wooden stake that he conjured with the 
force of his mind and the strength of his will and for a brief half-
second he thanks his dark Mistress for cursing him with the Gift and 
then he strikes.

Leaping up from his crouch, sudden wash of adrenaline pounding into 
his brain, Xander twists and kicks out with one leg to send a light 
blue robed minion sailing into a patch of burning sunlight. And 
without stopping his fluid grace, he *slams* the wooden stake into 
the chest of the next minion. Bright red hot blood floods over his 
hand and splashes into his face, but all he sees is *dust* exploding 
around him. 

Yanking back the stake, he turns on the balls of his feet and punches 
out with his empty fist and he feels the delightful stinging contact 
of flesh upon flesh and *screams* fill his ears and he begins to 
laugh in joy at the lovely sound. 

The older and more dangerous minions, the ones dressed in white rush 
towards him with death in their yellow eyes. Grinning widely at the 
intense *fun* he's having, Xander leaps over the back of the couch 
away from them and *thrusts* his stake into another minion. Hot wet 
red dust splashes over him and drips onto the floor and the coppery 
scent of life *slams* into his nose and this *hot* taste fills his 
mouth and his teeth *ache* and he *wants* and *yearns* for his 
Mistress to come and take him away from here and to drink him and 
hurt him and bathe him in her scent.

And then strong hands grab him tightly from behind and pin his arms 
to his sides as his stake is *yanked* free of his fist. Mindless 
panic wells up inside him and he struggles against the tight bands of 
flesh that have captured him and he tries to explain. To *make* them 
understand.

"NOOOO! I *have* to kill them and stop Her Sire from opening up Hell 
and killing Buffy and Giles and you *have* to let me *go*! They're 
*evil*! Can't you see that? Can't you see?"

There is a sharp small pin-prick against his arm and he feels 
chemically induced lassitude swamp his body immediately and he 
struggles against it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he becomes 
aware that he *wasn't* dusting vampires, that he is in a mental 
hospital's day-room and that he has just beaten up a few fellow 
patients and violently murdered a few more. But that thought seems 
unreal to him somehow and so he continues to struggle and try to 
escape even as the world turns fuzzy and a deep soft blackness rises 
up from the drugs to consume him. 

With a shudder, he falls limp in his captor's arms and he knows no 
more.

Part Three  

== present ==

After turning over the paperwork to the nurse, Spike followed Dr. 
Slatterly through pale blue painted cement hallways until they came 
to an elevator. The thin doctor with the graying hair and the white 
lab-coat strongly reminded Spike of the scientists at the Initiative 
and he felt a brief surge of sympathy for the mortal he was here to 
see. He was sure that Dru's kitty-pet found these doctors and nurses 
as vulgar and oddly chilling as he did. 

Vampires, by their very nature, were extremely intimate creatures. 
The fed directly from the still living bodies of their prey, they 
shared every aspect of their unlives with their family and they felt 
no need or desire to hide any of their emotions or wants. They laid 
everything bare for all to see. And Xander had lived as a member of a 
vampire family for over a year. Granted, he was the mortal family's 
equivalent of the pet dog, but he was *still* a member of a powerful 
vampire family. And as such, Xander had been forced into an intimacy 
with Drusilla and Angelus that had been doubly reinforced by 
lingering torture and violent sex.

The cold and aloof sterility of this place was a purely mortal 
fascination and no true vampire would want to live this way. 
Placating gentleness, pretended understanding and casual concern did 
nothing to hide the truer and less morally pleasing aspect that 
*really* drew the doctors into this field. The insatiable curiosity 
to unravel a bizarre mystery. The scientists at the Initiative had 
wanted nothing more than to figure out what made him tick, and Spike 
had the feeling that these doctors wanted nothing more than to figure 
out how Xander was broken. True caring about the boy wasn't a 
motivation for these lab-coated mortals at all.

When they stepped into the elevator, Dr. Slatterly turned and began 
to speak to Spike about Xander. He was deliberately vague and Spike 
could tell he was sugar coating things a lot, but Spike knew that the 
doctor didn't realize that after more than a century of killing and 
torturing with his Sister, Drusilla, he was far more familiar with 
insanity than the doctor ever could be.

"Now, Mr. Bradford. Your friend is very... ill. I'm not trying to 
upset you or frighten you, but Mr. Harris has very complex problems 
in recognizing and associating with reality. We believe that at one 
point, he was horribly mistreated and that the abuse combined with 
his family's death was what led to his breakdown." 

"However, if he does talk with you and his words don't make a whole 
lot of sense, don't worry too much. He claims to hear a voice in his 
head and he often talks about a dead woman and her father. We keep 
him medicated, as it helps to drown out the voice in his mind and 
leaves him calmer and more easy to manage. However, I must warn you, 
he is strapped down. This is for *your* protection. He can be quite 
violent when allowed to run loose."

Spike looked at the doctor a long moment and pondered just *how* he 
was supposed to respond to that. He *knew* what had happened to 
unhinge Xander's mind. He might not have taken too much of a personal 
hand with his breaking, but he had been a witness to it. He also knew 
that the voice Xander heard was *real*, a gift from his beloved Dark 
Goddess. 

He was curious about Xander's violent behavior though, but before he 
could comment about it, the elevator stopped. Spike watched as Dr. 
Slatterly pulled out a magnetically coded card and waved it in front 
of Spike's face while he gestured to the still closed doors.

"This is the top floor. The Violent Ward. We house all of our... "

Spike bit back a grin and offered up a description for the 
floundering doctor.

"Psycho killers?"

The doctor blanched, but didn't deny it.

"... *ahem* hard to control patients up here. You need a specially 
coded card just to open the elevator doors. That way, no other 
patients will wander up here by accident."

The doctor swiped his card and the doors opened after the control 
panel blinked from red to green. Dr. Slatterly stepped out of the 
small elevator and Spike followed him into the hallway. The walls 
here were not the soft pale blue from downstairs. The were a crisp 
white and at different checkpoints along the corridor were iron bars 
with armed guards standing by the doorways that led past them. 
Spike's one eyebrow raised up to his hairline, but he silently 
followed the doctor.

The first guard pulled out a keyring and unlocked the barred doorway 
that he guarded and they stepped through and continued down the hall. 
At an intersection, they turned left and passed through another 
barred hatchway. The corridor was lined with steel doors with their 
locks and small sliding plates that allowed one to look inside 
without the door being opened.

Finally, the came to a metal door that had a white uniformed orderly 
standing outside of it. He glanced up at their approach and Dr. 
Slatterly nodded. The orderly then turned and unlocked the door. Once 
they stopped in front of it, the doctor turned to face Spike once 
more.

"Mr. Bradford. Once again, I'm not trying to upset you, but... please 
do not remove any of the straps confining Mr. Harris to the bed. They 
are for *your* protection. While you are visiting, I and Carl here 
will be directly outside this door. Call us in if you need us, and 
don't worry if you don't feel comfortable enough to stay long. Most 
people *don't* find it easy to spend time with the insane."

Spike turned away from the doctor to hide his smirk. He was a *demon* 
and by the very definition of that fact, he *himself* was insane. 
Every member of his entire bloodline had been crazy without 
exception, Dru just took it to extremes.

"Don't worry Doc. Can't be any worse than the rest of my bloody 
family, now can he? After all... he was *just* the pet."

Spike chuckled at the confused expression on the doctor's face, but 
he didn't give the man time to form a reply to his statement. 
Instead, he reached out and yanked open the metal door. He stepped 
inside swiftly and pulled it shut behind him. And then he stopped 
short, a broad smile rushing across his lips at the sight before him.

Xander, as promised, was indeed strapped to a bed. The mortal's dark 
hair had grown rather long, almost to his shoulders. It's color and 
waviness reminded him of his Sister, but the length reminded him of 
his Sire from before the nasty curse. He was still thin and wiry, but 
he seemed to be bigger too. Probably grew a few inches in height 
since Spike had last seen him. He wore nothing but a pair of faded 
mint green pajama bottoms, even his feet were bare.

Xander was lying flat on his back and his arms were down along his 
sides. A fleece lined leather strap bound his upper chest and upper 
arms to the bed. A second strap crossed his stomach and and elbows 
and a third large strap bound his thighs right above the knees. His 
wrists and ankles each had an identical strap that bound his hands 
and feet to the bed. He was squirming slightly under his restraints.

All in all, he was quite luscious and beautiful to Spike's eyes. He 
licked his lips.

"'Ello kitty-pet. Long time no see, innit?"

Spike wasn't sure *what* reaction that he would get from the boy, but 
he *didn't* think he'd get the one he got. Xander's dark haunted eyes 
*sprang* open at the sound of his voice and for a long moment the boy 
just *stared* at him intently. Spike had figured that the boy would 
shake and quiver in fear, possibly beg for mercy. Instead, Spike's 
sensitive nose got hit with a *staggering* wave of pheromones and the 
strong musky scent of Xander's arousal. His heart began to beat 
faster and slight shivers of fear and dark delight tingled through 
the very air.

"S... Spike... *Spike*! Oooowww... *HOME*! *Please* Spike, take me 
*home*. I don't wanna be *here*. I their be with *her*. Please take 
me home to Mistress. I *miss* her and I *need* her... *please*..."

Spike's jaw dropped open in shock. He *never* would have guessed that 
the mortal boy *missed* the woman who had caused him such unspeakable 
pain and agony. That he wanted to be with the being who had nearly 
single-handedly destroyed his life. Yet he did. Drusilla had broken 
Xander and then reformed him into her own image. Now, he craved and 
needed that which he was denied. 

His home. His Mistress. His *family*. 

Spike felt a wash of understanding and sympathy. He missed Dru as 
well.

The only thing that he didn't understand was why Xander had run off 
if he was so infatuated with Drusilla. He blinked in confusion, a 
small frown playing at the corners of his mouth, even as he walked 
over and sat on he edge of the bed. He reached out with one hand and 
gently ran the backs of his cool fingers along Xander's warm living 
cheek. The mortal leaned his face into the soft touch and smiled 
happily, almost nuzzling him.

"Kitty-pet? If you loved Dru so much, why did you run off? We thought 
that you escaped and never wanted to come back."

Xander's eyes turned stricken and he shook his head in denial.

"...no, no, *no*, NO! *Hide and Seek*! She *hunted* but I was smart 
and sneaky! *Clever!* She never found me, never came, and then I was 
lost! Lost and alone..."

== flashback ==

Xander leaned his naked and scarred back against the rough brick wall 
that he was chained to and watched his dark and deadly Mistress 
flitter about between her Sire and her Brother. The deceptively 
peaceful scene left him with an odd sensation of pride welling in his 
chest. They were his family and they were beautiful. Dark, deadly, 
devious... and he *belonged* to them. Or did *they* belong to *him*? 
Sometimes he forgot. But that didn't matter now, what was important 
was that they were all together and he enjoyed being able to feast 
his eyes upon their lovely forms. 

Now that Spike's injuries had healed to the point where he was able 
to walk and run and hunt and their, Angelus was taking more and more 
of an interest in him. His beautiful dark Mistress had whispered in 
his ear softly of how things were slowly going back into older and 
more delightful patterns. The two males were slowly getting over 
their respective animosity and resentment towards each other and they 
had recently begun to hunt and have sex together. Xander's Mistress 
was well pleased that her family was healing itself and she expressed 
her joy upon his flesh with wicked pain and lush pleasure.

Now, to Xander's delight and excitement, Angelus wanted to celebrate 
Spike's recovery and renewed their of him as leader of their clan. 
So, they were going off on holiday. Just the four of them. Spike's 
DeSoto had been completely overhauled with both engine and body work 
done on it and then it was cleaned inside and out. The minions had 
already packed up most of their belongings the night before and as 
soon as the sun set, they were to be off. 

[ hurry and run and hide... escape escape escape... *think* of stone 
and rock and dirt packed tight around you... a grave... buried deep 
in the earth... hidden deep in the arms of the earth... hide hide... 
no scent, no sound, no light.... buried deep under stone and age and 
weight of rock covering you hiding you... not to be found... escape 
escape escape... ]

At the moment, the Master Vampire and his bleached blonde their were 
pouring over maps and arguing about the best route to take to reach 
the first destination on the agenda. Drusilla stood between their 
chairs, lightly swaying back and forth. She alternated between 
humming a gentle tune under her breath and offering up her own ideas 
and suggestions.

Her comments were usually met with raised eyebrows and odd looks, but 
Xander couldn't figure out why. Everything that she ever uttered was 
terribly important and the gospel truth. Didn't they *realize* that?

Finally, in a fit of frustration, Angelus turned and snarled at 
Xander's beloved and feared Mistress. 

"Damn it Drusilla! I'm trying to *plan* here. I don't have *time* to 
play now. We only have a few hours until the sun sets."

[ pain and sadness and lonely aching in the night and lost so lost 
alone alone alone... hide in the stones hide in the stones... alone 
and lost, alone and lost... ]

Xander watched his beloved Mistress pout and her dark eyes filled 
with a mix of anger and sadness. The very sight of her beautiful face 
displaying such hurt and pain made him feel all tingly and he wished 
he could nibble on her thrust out bottom lip. She was *so* lovely 
when she suffered and hurt. A sparkling rush of excitement sizzled up 
his spine at the thought that maybe Angelus would be angry enough to 
punish her. Xander could cum merely from watching his beloved 
Drusilla being whipped by her Sire. It was the most wonderful and 
erotic thing he had ever seen before and he hoped to see it again. 
Soon.

[ power and greed and hate and vengeance are coming and the stones 
will shift and break and cry... hide and run and escape his ascension 
or the sunlight shall pierce the grave and dust will mingle with 
dirt... power and greed and hate and vengeance are coming... the 
ascension draws their... ] 

"I only want to help. Our grand adventure calls to me, whispering of 
blood and violence and broken little dolls all in a row. They itch 
and burn for us to come upon them and scratch their glassy eyes out."

Xander shivered at the sound of her voice and his chains rattled 
slightly, but Angelus merely exchanged a long and exasperated look 
with Spike. It was the blonde vampire that interceded. 

"Princess? Why don't you go play with your kitty-pet? He'll be 
trapped in the car soon and so he won't have the chance to exercise 
later. I'm sure he'd love to be allowed to stretch his muscles out a 
bit."

When Dru nodded in agreement, Xander felt a wash of bitter 
disappointment pool in his stomach. He had *really* wanted to watch 
as her Sire flayed her bare flesh raw with his belt. Opening up rough 
jagged cuts along her smooth porcelain skin, dripping bright red 
blood in splashes and splatters along the stone floor.

[ run and hide and pull the *idea* of stone around you wrap you in 
it's embrace... hide and escape to the towers of stone and metal and 
wait for he who shall come... escape the ascension... ]

But then she turned to face him, her deep mysterious eyes piercing 
his soul and he felt a jolt of sensual pleasure mixed with familiar 
terror. As she stepped up to him, he once again marveled at the flood 
of emotions that she made him feel with the simplest of gestures. He 
loved her and hated her. He feared her even as he coddled and 
pampered her. She was the bane of his existence and he worshiped 
every detail about her with a mindless devotion. She was the ultimate 
center of his universe.

And she was going to play with him.

Her deceptively delicate slim fingers brushed along his cheek gently 
and then carded through his hair leaving a trail of tingles and 
shivers in their wake. Helplessly, he wondered what the torment he 
was to suffer for her pleasure would be this time as a quiver raced 
down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end.

"Shhh.... my lovely kitty-pet. So soft, so tender, so... easily 
bruised. So quick to bleed for my pleasure. So pretty, so very very 
pretty."

Xander nuzzled his head into her hand and hummed low in his throat. 
He wasn't a vampire, so he couldn't purr, but that didn't stop him 
from trying to imitate the sound of contentment that they made. 
Drusilla giggled slightly, her soft voice leaving little pricks of 
fear and lust dancing on his nerves. Then she leaned forward until 
her body was pressed against his and ran her cool wet tongue along 
the side of his neck. With a shudder of desire, Xander instantly 
tilted his head for her, offering his throat to her whims. She nipped 
lightly at the skin, drawing blood, but not opening a vein.

"The stars sing such lonely songs. They whisper whisper of loss and 
regret. They know that pain is coming and they sing such sad sad 
songs."

Xander arched his neck further as his Mistress began to hum her soft 
tune again. She pressed her lips to his skin and he could feel the 
light vibrations tickle at his sensitive throat. She stopped her 
humming suddenly and nipped at him again. He hissed in pleasure/pain 
and his cock stirred in the tight black leather shorts that she had 
dressed him in today.

"Kitty-pet? Are the stones and rocks and dirt speaking to you? Do 
they whisper in your ears about our journey the way the stars are 
singing to me?"

Xander shifted slightly, the bare flesh of his back rubbing against 
the brick wall, little scratches and scraps along his tender and raw 
skin. His voice was horse from the weight of his screams the night 
before as he answered the deadly beauty nibbling on his vulnerable 
and hungry skin.

"The Mayor... the stones speak his name. And violent deaths. The 
Hellmouth screams for it, demands it. We must flee... hide... escape 
the burning sunlight..."

A delightfully wicked giggled tickled his ear.

"Yessss... Miss Edith told me all about *that* one. She says that he 
will be very powerful soon. He will *become*."

They exchanged a quick glance and Xander *saw* the knowledge and 
understanding deep within her. Power shimmered about her like an aura 
of glittery red light and the stones and pebbles of Sunnydale 
murmured her name in his ears, whispering of her gift and her 
strength. She *knew* that change was coming and coming soon. And it 
would not be for the best.

[ buried in rock and thoughts of rock, in stone and thoughts of 
stone... hidden and hiding... flee into the night... run far and run 
fast... hide in plain sight behind veils of thought, dreams of 
stone... ]

Then, in a heartbeat, the connection was gone and Xander became 
fiercely aware of her body pressed tightly to his and he *hungered* 
for her. The pain, the pleasure, the bloodshed. He arched against 
her, silently begging for her attention, for sensation, for her 
touch. She giggled and leaned her hip against the erection trapped in 
his tight black shorts.

"Someone is thinking naughty naughty thoughts. Mmmm.... I think I 
should allow you to play a fun game. You go off and hide and I'll 
hunt you down. Then I'll punish you like the bad little boy that you 
are. Nip and bite, hit and twist. You'll be begging for more by the 
time I'm done..."

Xander whimpered with lust and his cock jerked painfully in his too 
tight shorts at the very thought.

"Undo your restraints my pet. Set yourself free to run and hide from 
your wicked wicked Mistress."

Xander closed his eyes and reached out with the Gift she had cursed 
him with. There was a wrenching *twisting* sensation deep inside of 
his skull and his ears *popped*. Five solid sounding *clicks* echoed 
through the room as Xander used his mind and his willpower to unlock 
his chains. They fell back against the brick wall with loud metallic 
rattles.

He slowly lowered his arms and rotated his shoulders twice to loosen 
his stiff muscles and then he stepped away from the wall without any 
help from another being. He stood there wearing nothing more than the 
black leather short-shorts, his leather collar and matching leather 
wrist and ankle shackles, complete with multiple D-rings while his 
Mistress gazed on with delighted pride. She clapped her hands in glee 
and gave a little bounce.

"Wonderful! Oh, my sweet precious, Mummy's so proud. She has twisted 
you and bent you and made you into something so... wicked. You are 
getting stronger and stronger with your abilities all the time. Once 
I turn you, you'll be even *more* powerful!"

She flipped her fine boned hands in a shooing gesture. Xander 
imagined that he could see wet red blood flying from the tips of her 
fingers to splash along the stone floor.

"Run along. Go off and hide so I can hunt you down and bite you all 
up with my pretty little fangs."

She nipped at the air by his ear and he shivered, a tendril of fear 
and exhilaration flooding through him. He *loved* this game and yet 
he never won it. She *always* found him, but he tried *so* hard to 
make it difficult for her. She loved it more when he hid himself well 
and then afterwards she would bring him to even higher plains of 
pleasure and deeper chasms of agony as his reward.

[ run and hide run and hide run and hide... thoughts of stone and 
rock and sheltering in a crypt of the mind... ]

With a quick smile, he turned and hurried off, his bare feet slapping 
on the stone floor. He was so glad that he had the their to play hide 
and seek with his Mistress one last time before they left for their 
vacation. He had a new hiding place that he'd never used before and a 
new trick that he'd learned from the hissing grating voice whispering 
hollowly in his head and he wanted the chance to try it out. He'd 
just have to get there and then be quiet as a mouse. 

He just had to go into the cellar where all of the walls, the floor 
*and* the ceiling were made of rough stone and then he *knew* he 
could get them to hide his lifeforce. The rocks and dirt were his 
friends after all. They spoke to him a lot and they had told him how 
to do it, how to build a mental shield of rock and stone.

== present ==

Spike gently petted the mortal's face, neck and chest as he watched 
those haunted dark eyes unfocus. Emotions flickered across Xander's 
handsome face and the vampire found himself idly wondering what it 
was going on inside the boy's twisted little mind. With a soft sigh, 
he hoped that Xander didn't fade off all the time, or perhaps that it 
was only the medication doing it, because he *needed* the psychic to 
*focus* on the problem at hand. Specifically, the chip.

Hoping that it would work on Xander as well as it did his beloved 
Dark Princess when she had suffered from her visions of the future, 
Spike ran his long pale fingers through the boy's thick greasy dark 
hair in a soothing and repetitive manner. He vaguely noted that the 
boy needed to be thoroughly showered, but he figured it was probably 
difficult for the orderlies to bathe him considering they didn't have 
vampiric strength. Slowly, Xander began to relax. Spike started 
purring, a low rumbling in his chest and throat even as his other 
hand began to trace long soft strokes up and down the boy's chest.

"Xander... Xander... Come on back to me pet. Come on. I need to talk 
to you about getting you out of here. About us leaving together. Come 
on Xander... focus on my voice. Come back to me."

Little by little, the soft touches, the rumbling and soothing purr 
and Spike's whispering had it's desired effect. Xander's eyes 
sharpened and then locked onto Spike's face. It was like watching the 
boy wake up from a dream. A tiny smile creased his mouth for a brief 
second, then the mortal tilted his head sideways and frowned at him 
in confusion.

"The wicked pills they force down into me cage the voices. I only 
hear a hissing whisper that teases and torments me because it is so 
very far away. But every now and then a pebble falls through the 
cracks and everything is clear and shinning for a tiny bit. A little 
tiny stone in the heart of the garden is calling your name Spike. It 
is hissing and spitting about pain and frustration, loneliness and 
need."

The mortal blinked at him in shock and struggled against his 
restraints, desperately trying to get closer to the Master Vampire 
while Spike blinked at him with a strange mixture of hope, awe and 
confusion swirling in his head.

"You're *hurt*! Someone *broke* you!"

Spike felt that tiny kernel of hope begin to blossom in his cold dead 
chest. His Sister, Dru, had seen visions that told her of what was to 
come, but her kitty-pet, the mortal she had planned on taking as her 
own their someday, had visions of what *was*, now, in the present. 
And he somehow *knew* that Spike had been hurt and was still hurting 
because of everything the Initiative had done to him. 

"Yeah, pet. I'm hurt. I was captured by some government soldiers and 
their pet scientists. They put some damn microchip in my skull 
against my will. Now, every time I go to hunt or kill, the microchip 
sends a blast of blinding pain through my brain."

Spike watched Xander's face as he told him about what had been done 
to him. His expression flip-flopped from outraged anger to shuddering 
horror and then to a strange sort of understanding.

"I was captured too. The doctors tie me up, but they won't play with 
me or let me play with the other patients here. They *never* bite me 
or hurt me or do *any* fun stuff. And they feed me these awful wicked 
pills that make the voices dim and the Gift quiet. And they won't let 
me just *go* *home*!"

Spike could feel a frown spreading across his face as he considered 
everything that the mortal just told him. He was right about the 
similarities in their two situations. Xander wanted his freedom from 
the asylum as much as Spike had wanted his own from the Initiative. 
Spike knew right then and there that no matter what else happened, he 
would find a way to get his beloved Dru's kitty-pet out of here.

But beyond that, Spike was worried about the medication. If it dulled 
Xander's link to the voices and his psychic powers, *how* would he be 
able to remove the chip from Spike's skull? Well... maybe the boy 
would know how. After all, he'd been here for a few years, maybe he 
had figured out a way around it.

"Pet? Xander? If the meds make the earth and stones all fuzzy and 
quiet, how can you talk to them? I need you to get this chip out of 
my head so I can hunt and kill and that means you *have* to use your 
Gift."

A wash of arousal hit Spike's sensitive nose and the mortal boy 
flushed all over his body. Spike wondered what in the hell made the 
boy have *that* reaction to what he had said when Xander answered his 
unasked question.

"Sex."

Spike blinked in confusion.

"What pet? Run that by me again. What does sex have to do with 
anything?"

Xander blushed again, but his dark eyes never left Spike's own blue 
ones.

"Sex. When you have sex it creates *lots* of energy. I can tap into 
*that* energy to use the Gift. That's *one* of the reasons I'm not 
allowed to play with others. Strong emotions allow me to tap into the 
Gift too, but those wicked pills keep me fuzzy and sleepy, so that 
doesn't happen."

Spike nodded thoughtfully as he considered it. It *did* make sense 
and sex would also probably help to burn out some of the medication 
in the boy's blood stream as well. Then something the mortal said 
stuck out in his mind and he *had* to know. Curiosity was burning too 
brightly inside of him to ignore it.

"Pet? Um... if you using sex to get enough energy and power to use 
your Gift is only *one* of the reasons why they don't let you spend 
time around the other patients, what are the *other* reasons?"

Spike watched a wicked and evil grin spread across the boy's face. 
His dark eyes sparkled with mischief and a low throaty chuckle 
rumbled through his bare chest. Spike couldn't help but answer that 
nasty smile with one of his own.

"Oh... that would be because I like to play with the other patients. 
You know, tie them up, hit them, kick them, occasionally bite them."

Xander's grin dimmed slightly and a look of haunted sadness entered 
his dark eyes.

"It helps me feel better. I just get *so* homesick sometimes and it 
helps to share the pain with other people. And I *know* they could 
*learn* to like it just like *I* did!"

Spike chuckled and Xander's grin turned evil once more.

"Of course, it *could* be that I tend to kill people whenever I get 
loose. But, I don't understand why that gets everyone so riled up. I 
mean, I've been killing things since I was just a kid. Vamps, 
demons, animals.... now I've added humans to the list. What's the big 
deal. Right?"

Spike grinned and petted the mortal's hair in sympathy and 
understanding.

"You're right pet. It *isn't* a big deal. And when you get this chip 
outta my head, we'll leave here you and I, and we'll go find some 
humans and kill 'em up good and proper. Sound like fun?"

Xander nodded his head vigorously and Spike chuckled. He could smell 
the excitement and arousal rolling off of the human even as his blue 
eyes dilated to take in the lovely little wiggles and squirms that 
were all that the restraints allowed him to do. After a brief moment 
of enjoying this delightful visual feast, Spike noticed that there 
was a distinctive pattern to Xander's wiggles. He was trying to free 
his hands. 

Spike frowned. Xander had, at one point, been able to undo *any* 
lock, buckle or clasp with just his Gift and his willpower. Now, he 
had reverted back to squiggles and squirms. A wash of protective 
anger rolled over him as he realized that the drugs that the doctors 
fed to the mortal was, in it's own way, a lot like Spike's chip. It 
prevented him from doing what now came naturally. Granted, the drugs 
would wear off, or could be gotten around in a few minor ways, 
whereas the chip couldn't, but it was the same principle. 

Right then and there, Spike promised himself that he'd kill anyone 
who ever tried to drug the boy again. With his Sire missing and 
hidden by a mage-shield and Drusilla and Darla dust, he was Spike's 
last remaining family member and the Master Vampire planned on 
protecting him with extreme prejudice.

That decision made, Spike reached down and began to unshackle the boy 
one buckle at a time. Chest. Waist. Legs. Ankles. Wrists. As soon as 
the last strap came apart, it's leather ends fluttering to the 
bedsheet, Spike found himself with a double armful of Xander. 

The boy wrapped his arms around Spike's shoulders and buried his face 
against his long pale neck, muttering and whispering in between soft 
kisses and gentle nips pressed into his skin.

"oooowwww *so* cool, almost cold ::kiss:: dead, no heartbeat ::lick:: 
like coming home ::nip:: so pale, so lovely ::kiss:: missed you, miss 
her, miss him ::nibble:: gonna fix you ::nip:: then you and I will 
hunt ::lick:: and we can be happy again ::*bite*::"

Spike felt a shiver run down his spine as Xander's blunt human teeth 
bit down on his throat hard enough to break the skin and draw a few 
drops of bright red blood. He brought his arms around the mortal's 
waist and pulled him up onto his lap. Xander spread his long legs 
wide so that he was straddling the blonde. Spike squeezed the warm 
body close to him, enjoying the exquisite heat that leached through 
his clothes to tease his flesh.

Xander ran his warm wet tongue up the length of Spike's neck until he 
reached the vampire's ear. Then he wrapped his soft full lips around 
the pale lobe and suckled gently for a long moment before he bit down 
on it... *hard*. Spike hissed and a bolt of lust surged through his 
body to gather in his groin. He reached up one pale hand and thrust 
it into Xander's thick shaggy hair at the back of his head and curled 
his fingers into a fist. Yanking the mortal's head back, he leaned 
forward and attacked those lush full lips with his own. Immediately, 
Xander opened up to him, silently begging him to just take and taste 
and plunder the warm moist depths of his mouth.

The man-child in his arms moaned deep in his throat and shifted so 
that his pajama covered erection rubbed up against Spike's stomach. 
The musky scent of lust and sweat and leather swirled in his nose and 
the thumping sound of Xander's heartbeat echoed in his ears even as 
the promise and hope that the bloody chip would be destroyed rolled 
about his passion soaked mind.

With a gasp of air that he didn't really need, Spike broke the 
desperate kiss and carefully shoved Xander off of his lap and onto 
the bed. It was a fine line to walk, rough enough to arouse the 
violence deprived mortal, but gentle enough to not cause any actual 
pain that would send the chip in his skull to flaring white hot agony 
down his central nervous system.

Spike quickly stood up and shrugged out of his leather duster. He 
draped it across the only chair in the room. Then, he peeled off his 
t-shirt and tossed it on the seat of the chair. He undid his belt and 
unzipped his black jeans. As he pushed them wide open and then down 
to his knees, he glanced over at the boy.

"Strip!"

He saw a shiver race along Xander's spine as the boy rolled onto his 
back in a flash and grasped the waistband of his faded pajamas. Then 
in one smooth move, the mortal *yanked* them down to his knees. One 
leg at a time, he hurriedly kicked them off and onto the floor.

Spike spared a long moment to run his eyes over the boy's body. Long 
lean muscles and smooth pale skin. It was painfully obvious that the 
boy rarely, if ever, saw any sunlight. He hadn't the entire time he 
had lived with Spike's family and the vampire was pretty certain that 
the doctors wouldn't allow Xander to freely roam the hospital 
grounds. Still, the moon kissed skin was a striking contrast to the 
long midnight curls and the deep dark eyes. What's more, the mortal's 
long thick cock was painfully erect, purple-red with his desire and 
need. He was utterly beautiful.

Grinning, his own erection standing proud from a nest of dark curls, 
Spike turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly 
on the floor. He reached out towards the mortal with one hand open in 
invitation. A slow sexy secretive smile bloomed across Xander's face 
and he crawled his way across the mattress to Spike. Wet warm tongue 
flicked across his cool earlobe even as a large warm hand pressed 
against his bare chest.

Willingly, Spike lay back against the mattress only to get lost in 
the dreamy look of lust etched onto the mortal's face. With an almost 
reverent touch, Xander ran one fingertip down the length of his pale 
muscular chest. That gentle feathery touch teased at his skin, 
leaving tingles of warmth and heightened sensitivity as it delicately 
traced the lines of his ribs and lean curves of his flesh. 

"So beautiful... so lovely... so smooth..."

In a heartbeat, the gentle teasing touch turned harsh and heavy as 
Xander *dug* his fingernails *into* Spike's pale skin and then 
*dragged* his hand down the creamy expanse. Burning stinging *pain* 
flashed through Spike's body and the scent of blood filled his nose 
even as his cock *throbbed* and began to leak pre-cum at the 
sensation.

"Oooo..."

The shaky breathy gasp pulled Spike out of his own mind in time to 
see Xander's eyes go wide with a dark and wicked hunger as he bent 
his head down towards the bloody scratches running along his right 
pectoral. Spike shivered and clutched at the bedsheets when he felt a 
warm wet tongue delicately lap up the spilled drops of crimson 
pleasure.

His head swirled with disjointed thoughts of what it would be like 
once they finally left here and began to journey through life... or 
their together, when Xander suddenly swung his leg over Spike's hips 
and straddled his body. The movement caused their erections to brush 
against each other and they both moaned in pleasure at the sensation.

Never one to hesitate, Spike reached up and grabbed Xander's ass with 
both of his hands. One quick tug and he had the mortal's body pressed 
tightly to his own. Erection to erection, chest to chest, face to 
face. The feeling of hot sweaty skin melded against his cool body 
sent thrills of almost overwhelming pleasure coursing through him and 
he felt a rumbling growl erupt out of his chest even as he thrust his 
hips up against Xander. 

His hands methodically squeezed and molded the firm lush ass that 
filled them and his hips found a rough and quick rhythm that the hot 
mortal blanketing his body easily picked up. A hot wet mouth found 
his own and the delicious *taste* of Xander exploded across his 
tongue. Wet, warm, wild and just enough spice from longed for pain 
and violence. The darkness in his soul and mind sending thrilling 
sparks through Spike's preternatural senses.

Pleasure and need and *hunger* built inside of him, spiraling 
upwards, seeking out the demon within him. His hard and greedy 
erection pulsed and throbbed as he ground his hips against Xander's 
and he felt his face begin to shift, bones melting and melding into 
harsher lines and deep ridges. His gums *ached* in the most delicious 
way and then the *wonderful* feeling of *release* as his fangs 
elongated and sharpened into deadly points. 

The mortal in his arms took one long look into his glittery yellow 
eyes, moaned in ecstasy and plunged his warm tender tongue into his 
fang filled mouth, seeking out and then deliberately slicing open his 
lips and tongue on the razor sharp canines. Rich pleasure/pain 
flavored *living* blood bubbled into his hungry mouth and Spike 
*groaned* at the heady and wonderful taste. His demon *roared* in 
his head and he sucked down *hard* on the cut and bloody tongue in 
his mouth. 

Husky and breathy whimpers and moans vibrated in Xander's throat even 
as the mortal began to thrust down on Spike faster and faster with a 
broken and desperate rhythm. The scent of arousal flooded the air and 
Spike could taste the boy's orgasm in his blood even before his 
burning hot erection *exploded* against his own cock and abs. 

The combined scent/taste and the physical sensations of Xander's body 
spasming on top of him was too much and with a growl, Spike tore his 
mouth from Xander's and howled out his own release even as Xander 
reached out with two shaky hands and clamped them down on top of his 
skull with great force. 

Spike was still shaking and trembling with the aftershocks of his 
orgasm when there was a *twisting* *pulling* flash of red streaked 
white glittering light and then he heard a sharp *crack-pop* inside 
his head followed by a feeling of vague *emptiness* behind his eyes.

Spike wasn't sure *what* had just happened to him and was about to 
demand that the boy explain himself when suddenly Xander sat up so 
that Spike's semen soaked flaccid cock nestled between the mortal's 
warm cheeks. Xander's expression was one of exhausted exaltation and 
he reached out to Spike with one hand, palm up. Sitting there on his 
pale flesh was a twisted bit of metal and plastic with brightly 
colored wires and tiny connection plugs dangling from it.

Disbelieving shock rocked him to the core as he stared at it. Slowly, 
as if waking from a dream, Spike realized *what* that thing was and 
that it was no longer on the *inside* of his skull. 

"... the chip..."

His voice was a mere whisper, yet it carried like the glorious hail 
and call to war by the Lord of Demons himself to Spike's ears. His 
pale hand shaking with emotion, Spike gently plucked the tiny piece 
of technology off of Xander's hand and *squeezed* it with all of his 
inhuman strength, leaving it nothing more than a crushed and twisted 
bit of shiny trash.

Then he turned his glittering gold eyes onto the naked mortal sitting 
on his lap. Oh... he was *never* letting this one go.

"You *did* it pet! You did it!"

A happy and satisfied smile raced across Xander's face for a quick 
moment and then his dark eyes rolled up in his head and he toppled 
over in an unconscious sprawl across Spike's body. A wave of 
protectiveness rippled through him and he wrapped his long pale arms 
around the mortal, cuddling him close.

"Shhh... that's okay pet. You did good, you did. You just take a 
little nap. When you wake up, we'll see about getting you out of here 
so that we can go kill people. But for now, you just rest up."

Part Four

== flashback == 
He was cold. 
It's an odd sensation to notice first, especially when there are so many other's that seem to be clamoring for his undivided attention. Raw bloody skin, stinging and tingling with whispers of pain from where she'd last hit him with her cat-o-nine-tails whip. Stretched taunt muscles that were cramping and twisting from his enforced stillness. Aching emptiness and clawing hunger because she had denied him food for three days as a part of the 'ritual cleansing' in preparation of the spell. Throbbing and needy erection trapped in a painfully tight leather cockring. 
But his twisted and broken mind choose to linger on the fact that he was cold.
Goose bumps and shivers traveled up his chilled naked flesh, but there was more to it than that. It was a coldness of the spirit as well. All hope for redemption and release had died within him, only to be reborn into a twisted and reversed image of what and who he had once been. 
No longer did he crave his freedom from Her. No longer did he fall into tortured dreams, his last conscious wish that at least *one* of his friends remembered him, thought of him, was planning to rescue him. No. Those days were gone. There was no turning back. Now, he only craved Her touch, both gentle and cruel, graceful beauty and hellish cruelty. The taste of Her, the scent of Her, the sound of Her cries and Her laughter ringing in his ears.
And now... today, she was planning on *changing* him. Making him a part of the darkness which dwelled within her own mind. Her soft lilting voice had whispered sweet pleasures and grand pain into his seething brain, promising power and comfort and madness. She planned to bind him to the Hellmouth and to Herself with blood and magic and pain and sex.
Didn't his Mistress know that no mere magic spell could bind him to her any tighter than his own heart and mind already did? He was *Her's*, now and forever, a willing and broken servant. She was his only need, his only desire, his only *fear*.
Dragging in a ragged and shuttering breath, Xander opened his bruised eyes and looked around at the room he was confined in.
He was lying flat on his back on a small twin sized cot. The thin lumpy mattress was wrapped in black cotton and his arms were stretched over his head and then bound to the metal frame. He legs were also stretched out and spread slightly, his ankles similarly shackled. Every surface of the room itself was painted a dull black and then sprinkled with bright white glittery stars of varying sizes. The walls, the floors, the ceiling. Even the furniture. 
There was a long dresser along the far wall and it held a multitude of candles and the wall sconces on the other side of the room also held burning candles, their bright flames dancing and flickering, but the dark walls and ceiling seemed to absorb and eat the light. A small table near the bed held other items. A heavy and obviously old leather bound book. A silver chalice and a silver knife. An iron cauldron set up on a small tripod over an unlit candle. A glass of wine and two silk pouches full of... something.
Xander felt an iron ball of fear settle into his stomach as he studied the items. He *knew* that she was planning on destroying what was left of his soul, corrupting it, blackening it, breaking the last part of him that held compassion and goodness in it. He knew that she was going to pervert him into something more... or was that something less... than human. She had told him that he would survive, that she wouldn't kill him. Yet.
And a little part of him wished that she would kill him. Just *do* it. He *knew* it was coming and he half feared that day and half hoped it would come in the next minute. He didn't like being the only living creature in the big Mansion. All of his old family were dead, most of his old friends were dead. His Mistress and her family were all animated corpses... he wanted to be dead too. 
The sound of the door opening yanked his twirling and morbid thoughts out of the ether and into the here and now. Twisting his neck around so that he could see who was there, Xander got his first glimpse of Drusilla this night. 
Her breathtakingly beautiful pale face swam beneath a heavy black velvet hood and her lithe and lovely form was draped within the folds of a heavy black velvet robe. The merest whisper of fabric rustling was the only sound she made as she glided across the room to the table. Her dark eyes sparkled with madness and power and a soft gentle smile graced her lips. Xander's soul flinched and shrieked in horror even as his body quivered with hunger for the feel of her touch. 
She ignored him, walking over to the table. With trepidation and lust battling for dominance in his mind, Xander watched as she flipped open the large book to the page marked with the bright red satin ribbon. She read the page silently for a moment and then lit the candle under the cauldron. Her soft breathy voice sent chills along Xander's naked and exposed skin as she began chanting in a demonic language he didn't understand, even though he recognized it. He had heard it before and had even learned one or two words, but he had no idea what it was she was saying as she began the spell. 
Drusilla carefully poured half of the wine into the tiny iron cauldron and then opened one of the silk packets on the table. Still chanting in her soft breathy voice, she sprinkled a double pinch of dried herbs into the slowly heating wine. Then, she lifted up the knife and raised it high into the air. She chanted and sang to it softly for a long moment and then she quickly sliced through her left wrist with it's keen edge. 
Tilting her bloody and dripping wrist over the cauldron, she let the stolen blood flow from her undead veins into the herb and wine mixture. Still, she chanted the demonic magic spell.
She began to stir the mixture with the knife in her right hand, even as she lifted her bloody wrist up to her face. Her long pink tongue darted out and licked up the remaining splashes of bright red and Xander's cock jerked and twitched at the erotic sight. Her eyes flashed over to him briefly as she lowered the knife back to the table. 
Still singing those unholy words, Drusilla lifted the cauldron up with her bare hands, heedless of it's heat. Carefully, she poured the mixture into the silver chalice. She put the cauldron back on it's tripod and picked up the remaining silk pouch. Reaching into it, she pulled out a piece of crumbling pressed spice and ground it between her fingers over the silver chalice. The wine/herb/blood mixture bubbled and hissed as the spice dissolved into it. Still, she chanted with her soft breathy voice.
Finally, she lifted the chalice and carefully made her way across the room towards Xander and the bed he was strapped down to. Tingles of excitement and fear washed over his skin, leaving him extra sensitive and responsive. He *yearned* for her and he *craved* her and he would willingly submit to *any*thing she required from him, yet he was frightened. His Mistress was going to *change* him, at some *very* basic levels. He didn't even like who he was now, let alone what she wanted him to become. But he wasn't asked. He had no choice, no will of his own.
Taking great care not to spill a drop of the liquid in the chalice and still speaking the words of the demonic spell, Drusilla pushed aside the front opening of her robe, revealing her naked pale flesh beneath. Xander felt the breath catch in his throat at the very sight of her and his cock jerked and twitched in it's bondage.
Moving slowly, she climbed across his lap and positioned his straining erection against her wet opening. Her chanting got louder and louder as she slowly slid down his throbbing length, wrapping him in tight wet coolness. Xander's heart beat furiously against his chest as he fought with his bindings. He wasn't sure if he wanted to get away, to run far and fast, or if he wanted to thrust deeper into her, to turn them over so that he could thrust and thrust and thrust...
He moaned and writhed. Finally, her weight settled firmly over his pelvis, his shaft buried in her to the hilt. 
Her loud chanting was now practically shouted from her lips and she held the silver chalice in both hands level to her face, as if she were a priest of old blessing water, turning it holy. Xander felt a hysterical bubble of fear laced laughter get trapped in his throat at that image. His Mistress was no priest blessing holy water, instead she was a demon, a seer of Hell, cursing a potion of blood tainted wine.
She turned her face towards him, her fangs fully distended and her eyes a glittery gold. Then, she brought the silver chalice down and tilted it to his lips. The bitterly metallic mixture poured into his mouth even as her soft lilting voice rang in his ears. The potion burned his tongue as if he had swallowed a mouthful of the bright sunlight that his family hid themselves away from. He was *certain* that he was going to die. Fear rippled up his spine, and *still* she poured the vile liquid into his mouth. The awful taste caused a ball of nausea to form in his stomach. 
A faint grin crossed her fang filled mouth and she reached out with one hand and pinched his nose closed. He could feel panic begin to well up inside of him and sweat beaded up on his brow. She shifted slightly and pleasure sizzled through his body and he almost gasped, but he *tried* not to swallow. He didn't *want* to feel that tingling stinging burning mixture slide down his throat, but he *needed* to breathe and black spots were forming in front of his eyes... and... and...
He swallowed. 
And swallowed. 
And then gasped in pure clean air to fill his empty lungs. 
*Pain* blossomed inside of his stomach as soon as the foul potion hit it. Nausea swept over him and vertigo sent the room to spinning violently and Xander was *sure* that gravity just *stopped* suddenly because the only thing holding him to the bed was his shackles and the negligible weight of Drusilla. Icy hooks and claws tore it's way out of his gut and throughout his entire body, *digging* into tender and hidden organs and then *dragging* itself deeper into his flesh, imbedding itself into his very cells. *Agony* exploded in the base of his spine and traveled up his central nervous system, setting every nerve ending on *fire* along the way. 
He could feel his balls try to go home and his erection try to wither, but the cockring wouldn't let them and his Mistress *rode* him, laughing and giggling and shrieking in the demonic language of the curse even as she raped his body for her own pleasure. And then the potion worked it's way up into his brain, reaching deep into his gray matter with acid tendrils, dissolving his thoughts and reforming him, making him, changing him, perverting him with Drusilla's Gift.
Mercy rained down upon him then. He blacked out from the pain. 

== present == 
It was the pounding on the door that pulled Spike from his delightful thoughts of slaughter and mayhem with the dark haired mortal at his side as his newly turned Childe. 
"Mr. Bradford? Are you okay in there? Do you need assistance with Mr. Harris?"
Spike growled at the metal door that held Xander's Doctor and the white clad orderly beyond it. He took a deep breath that he didn't really need in order to calm down slightly and then yelled back.
"No thanks mate. We're just ducky in here. I'll be out in a moment or two."
Turning his attention to the sleeping mortal in his arms, Spike gently shook his shoulder.
"Pet. Wake-y up-y..." 
The sleepy brunette snuggled against his chest and murmured something about 'sweet cool dead flesh' and 'go away, comfy now'. Spike grinned. He didn't blame the poor boy. He'd had a big job to do and he did it wonderfully and besides, who *wouldn't* want to cuddle up to him? He *was* an amazing piece of vampire flesh, after all. Still... he had things to do and people to eat. He shook the boy again, harder this time.
"Xander. You have to get up Pet. We have to get you dressed and ready to go before the doctor takes it into his fussy little head to barge on in here."
More mumbles and cuddles. It was cute at first, but now Spike was beginning to get annoyed. He would try just *one more time* and then he'd get angry.
"Xander. Wake up and I promise I'll bite you. Nice little nip on your tender flesh. You'd like that wouldn't you?"
The mortal shifted in his arms slightly, tipping his head back and grinning hugely. However, he was *still* sleeping. Well, dozing is more like it. Spike grinned at the response. It had been a few years since Xander had spent any time around vampires, and he *still* ached for their bloody kisses. His dark Princess had trained the boy well.
He sighed. He might enjoy the cuddling and the cute willingness to offer up his neck, but Spike wanted to leave, and he wanted the boy to come with him. And that meant he had to be awake and dressed. He was, really, left with no choice, even if he *did* enjoy doing it. With a rolling of his eyes, he shoved the human up off of him and into a startled and confused heap on the cold tile floor. A startled, confused, and most importantly, a wide *awake* heap on the floor. Spike grinned cheekily at him.
"Wha... what happened?" 
Spike slid up off of the bed and began to pull up his jeans and fix his clothes.
"What happened mate, is that you got that thing outta me bleedin' skull and then you passed out. You need to get dressed now. We're gonna bust you outta this place. Somehow..."
Spike smirked as the boy's face light up like a bloody Christmas Tree with all the trimmings. He jumped to his feet and went over to the floor where his pajama bottoms had been thrown. Ignoring the drying semen on his groin and chest, Xander hurriedly slid the faded mint green pants on. Then, he went to the tiny side table and opened the large lower drawer. He pulled out a faded cotton top that matched the pants he wore and a faded darker green terrycloth robe. Then, with a wide grin plastered across his face, he pulled the last items out of the drawer. A battered pair of slippers.
Quickly dressing into his meager clothing, Xander turned to flash a bright and cheery smile up at Spike.
"When we get out of here, can we get me some *real* clothes? Huh, Spike? Please? I haven't had *real* clothes since these doctors got a hold of me. At least the *police* let me wear clothes, even if they *were* ugly."
Spike looked Xander up and down from head to toe, imagining him all decked out in tight blue jeans and a leather jacket. He smirked with pleasure at the lusty thoughts those images roused in him. 
"Sure thing Pet. First kill once we leave here will die for his clothes, then after that, we can work on getting you a decent wardrobe. Sound good?"
Xander finished tying up his old robe, slid his feet into his slippers and nodded. 
"Yeah. Mistress will be so happy to see me again, but I don't want to show up looking like an escapee from the mental ward... even though I *am* one. I can't *wait* to be with her again. Oh Spike, this is *so* wonderful."
Spike winced. Visibly. 
"What? Spike, what is it?" 
A sliver of trepidation wormed it's way into Spike's mind. He *didn't* mean for his emotions to have been noticeable, but the loss of his sister was too fresh in his memory and it still cut like a knife into his undead heart. But he knew that this mortal boy, who had been broken and reformed in her image, would *also* take the news of her final death hard. He shook his head and forced a false smile onto his features.
"Nothing pet, nothing." 
An odd look crossed Xander's face and his dark eyes unfocused for a brief moment, painfully reminding Spike of his lost Drusilla.
"You're lying. Something is wrong. What is it? What are you trying to hide from me? It's... it's about Mistress, I can see *that* much. What happened? *Tell* me!"
For a long moment, Spike considered lying to the boy, just making up some false little thing and hoping that he believed him. But he knew that would never work. Eventually, the drugs would wear out of his system for good and the voices he heard would become clear. *They* would tell him about Dru and he would *know* the truth anyway. In the long run, it would be better if he heard it right from Spike's mouth. 
Out of all of the vampires in their family, Spike was the one with the shakiest bond with Xander to begin with. Only the minions had less contact. At first, Spike had also had no contact with the boy, but as he healed and as his relationship with Dru and Angelus improved, he got to see more and more of Xander. Granted, he'd never *really* beaten the boy, and they'd only had sex a few times that Dru permitted it, but they *had* been exposed to each other quite a bit in the last three months before Xander disappeared. This... sharing of grief, it might cement what little bond they *did* have. 
And Spike *wanted* Xander for his own. He didn't want to lose the boy now that he'd found him again. So... that meant the truth. With a sigh, he walked over to the mortal and rested one hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
"Xander... the same git's that put that microchip in me head? Well... they, um... they staked Dru. My dark Princess is dust now. There *is* no Mistress for you to go home to."
Spike felt a shiver of concern tinged with fear flash through him as he watched Xander's already pale face lose all of it's blood, turning him chalk white. The very *air* around him literally *filled* with massive amounts of energy that made his hair stand on end. Then, Xander tipped back his head and *screamed* in denial and unfathomable pain and grief.
"NNNNOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!" 
With a *huge* bang, the metal door to Xander's room *flew* open with enough force to *rip* it from it's hinges and send it flying into the face of the rude fussy doctor and the muscle bound orderly. Alarms and whistles began to sound from every corner of the hospital and Spike's sensitive vampiric hearing could hear the sounds of thousands of glass windows *shattering* all at once. This was swiftly followed by countless voices yelling, crying, babbling and calling out for medication and codes and for someone to call the police. Chaos reigned everywhere on every floor.
Spike was stunned. He could barely believe what was happening around him and he wondered what in the Hell was going on. Suddenly, he was yanked out of his startled thoughts by Xander literally collapsing. With preternatural reflexes, he managed to catch the boy before he fell to the floor and he pulled him up close. Looking into Xander's suddenly exhausted and drawn face, Spike figured out what had happened.
The boy had told him that one of the things that could release his Gift was extreme emotion. And his grief and anger at hearing Dru's fate had been a catalyst for his power. He had done... *something*... *huge* and it had drained him of all reserve energy. 
He picked the boy up and carefully tossed him over his one shoulder. Arranging him so that he had the most freedom of movement and the best possible balance, Spike stepped out into the hall. And paused in shock.
Every single solitary door and gateway had been *flung* open with terrible force. All of the locks were twisted and bent, many of the actual doors were yanked from their hinges, just as Xander's had been. Spike saw two large piles of glittering sparkling glass all along the floor half way down the hall outside of the Nurse's Station and realized that *that* was what he had heard in Xander's room. What's more, patients were loose, wandering freely around the hallways, tormenting each other and the panicked staff.
Spike smirked. This would be easier than he thought. It would be even better if Xander were awake and able to walk on his own, but no matter. The staff was terribly distracted and Spike could now kill anyone who tried to stop him. By the time Xander woke up, he planned to be far from this horrid place.
== flashback == 
Panic seized him. He cringed back into his corner and clutched at his chains futilely. Mindless fear rolled through him, leaving him trembling and cowering. He whimpered low in his throat and shook his head back and forth, desperately hoping for a reprieve.
He'd *never* left her bedroom. In all of the four months since he'd been kidnapped, he'd *never* once ventured out of this suite of rooms. He'd been shackled to her floor, tied to her bed, strung from her ceiling, and occasionally dragged into her private bath for a good cleaning and scrubbing, but he'd *never* *ever*, not even *once* been taken out into the hallway beyond her private and personal domain.
Until now. 
He'd *dreamed* and *longed* and *hungered* to be able to just get up and walk out of here. He'd *wished* for it and *prayed* for it and *cried* out to the heavens above to grant that one gift to him. But now that it was here, now that she had come to him and told him that she was taking him outside... he was terrified.
Inside these walls he had suffered torments that had broken his mind and his spirit. He knew this. He was *very* aware that he was no longer sane. Inside these walls he had soared to heights of pleasure that he hadn't even been aware could be reached. Every touch, every tease, every piercing agony that shredded his soul and his hopes and his mind had come to him in these very rooms. 
But they were *familiar*. 
He knew them and what they held. He had every inch memorized. He could walk across the room a dozen times while blindfolded and not bump into a single object. These walls were his *world* and he was... *used* to them. 
But the outside? It held *things* and *people* and *ideas* that he was *not* used to. And he *didn't* want to go. He didn't want to face those things and people and ideas that he had embraced in his life *before*, because he was not *him* anymore. Mistress and her Sire had *killed* that boy... they had broken him and warped him and danced on his grave. 
He didn't have a choice however, just like with everything else in his existence, it was not for him to say. Shuddering and crying and pleading for mercy, he was dragged out of her rooms by a strong chain leash attached to his collar. 
"Shhh... kitty-pet. Mummy has a surprise for you. You'll like this one... Daddy has a new pet and I want you to meet him."
Insane giggles whispered past his ears and his thoughts swirled around him in a bizarre mix of terror, humiliation and... jealousy. He didn't *want* Angelus to have a pet. *He* was the pet around here...
Finally, after enduring a frightening and confusing tour of the big Mansion past giggling and pointing minions, Mistress dragged him into a large stone room lit by medieval looking straw torches. He found himself being led over to a far corner where Angelus was beating a man chained to a support pillar with a thick black strap of leather. He stopped at their approach and turned a fang filled leer at them.
"Oh good... you're here. Sweetling, why don't you show off your pet to my new plaything? I think he'd *like* that, don't you?"
Giggles echoed hollowly from damp stone. 
"Oh *yes* Daddy, I do think he would enjoy it ever so much." 
Xander was then led around the pillar that held the man with the bloody and raw back chained to it so that he could see the man's face. It was an older man, and he seemed to be *very* familiar to Xander. His thick hair was dark with just the beginnings of gray to it, but it was plastered down to his skull with sweat and blood. His hazel eyes were slightly unfocused and his skin was drawn and tight from his pain. A little tiny part of Xander's brain *screamed* that he should know this man, and know him well, but he couldn't *quite* place him... 
It didn't matter anyway, he wasn't important. The only things in Xander's life that had any *real* meaning were his Mistress's pleasure and her Sire's pleasure. All else was inconsequential to him.
Then the man *looked* at him and gasped in shock. 
"Xan... Xander? Is... is that *you*?" 
There was something about the clipped British accent that Xander knew he should remember, but the man was from his life *before* and that was all a hazy blur in his mind. It seemed... unreal in the face of all of the pain and agony he had survived since that time. Still, his curiosity got the best of him and he leaned up close to study his feature's a bit more.
"Do... do I *know* you?" 
The man's face shifted into one of horror, then pity, and then horror once more.
"Y... yes. You *do* know me. I'm R... Rupert. Rupert *Giles*! The *Watcher*!"
A flicker of memory passed through his mind. Blonde hair, vampires collapsing into dust, a warm dusty Library, shared laughter, *love*... A wave of overwhelming loss and regret flooded his mind and a single tear dripped from his eyes. 
Then he turned away and leaned his trembling and abused body back against the legs of his Mistress. He turned his face up to her and *pleaded* with her.
"Mistress... I want to go *home*. *Please* Back upstairs to your rooms... I... I don't like it here. I want to be back where I belong. *Please*."
The man... Giles, gasped and sputtered. 
"Xander! You *don't'* belong with *her*! She is *not* your Mistress!" 
Red hot anger washed over him and a vicious snarl escaped his throat at those words. His vision grew hazy and his limbs trembled with the force of his rage. Flashes of bizarre images of pain and violence and blood and a surge of strength and anger and hate devoured his mind as screams and protests and then pitiful whimpers assaulted his ears. 
Finally strong cool arms clamped around him and a soft lilting voice whispered darkly into his brain. Xander leaned back into the comforting and possessive embrace of Angelus's inhumanly strong arms and slowly, little by little, he came back to himself. When he did, it was to find himself standing in front of a dying Rupert Giles, his torn out eyeballs in his clenched fists.

*******

TBC