Janus' Shadow

by
Lit Gal

Part Four

Xander came out of the bathroom and considered the sight of Spike standing near the kitchen island, his fingers curled around the empty cup on the counter and his shoulders slumped. Xander thought back to being a young vampire, the need to fight, the need to know that the person who held your fate was strong enough to hold it. He sometimes dreamed of Nusa's arms around him, her nails carving his flesh, and really that shouldn't be such a naughty-dirty memory.

As he watched Spike shift, the chain on his wrist clattering against the marble, Xander wondered if he could do this. Hell, he wondered if he had a right to. Angel could fight Spike into submission, but Xander couldn't do that. The sad truth was that he couldn't keep Spike from taking the blood from the refrigerator the vampire now eyed, and he couldn't stop Spike from picking up the phone and calling some demon to come over and snap Xander's neck.

Xander took a deep breath as the prey part of his brain babbled about life expectancies and big bad predators with big sexy teeth. And yet, that voice that called Spike childe whispered about how much Xander had failed his favorite one. He had sent Spike to the slayer when Angelus tried to end the world, and that had caused Dru to turn on her own childe. He had raped Angel so that when the soul got ripped out, Angelus turned his anger against both his rapist and Spike who had seen it happen.

Oh yeah, as a sire he had done more to screw Spike up in one night than Angelus and Dru had managed in a lifetime. Sometimes Xander felt like that night had just taught him new ways to be the Zeppo of the group. Standing by the archway to the bathroom, Xander watched as Spike's eyes left the refrigerator and explored the bedroom corner: grey Egyptian cotton sheets with burgundy and green bedding tossed about messily and weapons racks with an impressive array of ironwork, silver daggers, and chains and against the wall, a half dozen century old books stacked within reach of the bed. Willow wouldn't know the man who had chosen those, but Xander hoped that Spike would.

Spike's eyes finally left the bedroom and went to the library. Even though Xander couldn't read the titles, he knew that Spike's demon vision would allow him to see the various tomes from across the room. As Spike looked, a small frown would cross his brow from time to time, and Xander could imagine which of his titles would cause the most concern. The Libri Adnihilo would raise Giles' eyebrows as would the Vérbosszú. He wondered which titles gave Spike that vertical wrinkle between his eyes that made him look worried.

As Spike's eyes traveled to the living room area, Xander found himself the subject of careful study. He leaned against the side of the arch and looked back. If he were still the vampire he'd been that night, he would know exactly how to turn Spike's closed suspicion to obedience: He'd challenge the childe, let him get some fight out, then throw him over the nearest surface and pound him until the rebellion turned to respect and obedience.

"My beautiful hellcat," Xander finally whispered as Spike stood leaning on the counter looking defensive.

"Right, so what now?" Spike's clipped words spoke more of fear than words could, and Xander pushed off and started walking toward his beautiful hellcat.

"You vant to fight, you need to fight," Xander said thoughtfully, and Spike's body tensed. "I remember being a century young."

"Yeah, but that wasn't real, now was it?" Spike challenged him. "Truth is ya only have about... what... eighteen years? Not even out of diapers then."

"Who is to say what is real," Xander shrugged. "I remember a millennium of life as a vampire, you remember a mere century."

"Yeah, but I actually lived that century," Spike pointed out.

"Nusa existed, Jalon existed, Nusa's elusive childe existed. I've read volumes of chaos magic, and whether I lived those years in the blink of an eye, or whether I inherited the memories of a demon now turned to dust whose soul resides in hell... who knows." Xander continued moving in, carefully closing the distance as Spike held his ground and glared back.

"Demons don't have souls, mate," Spike disagreed.

"Then how is it that the demon can be resurrected after the body is destroyed? When the minions tried to kill Giles and the others to return the Master, what were they trying to return to those old bones if not the demon's soul?"

"But I thought," Spike cocked his head in confusion.

"Angel?" Xander asked, amused at how Spike's expression still mimicked humanity he no longer possessed.

"Yeah. We've both seen what happens when that bloody soul comes out of him, and I have to say he's a right bastard when that thing comes out."

"Yes, remove the human soul from the demon, and you have only the demon left, but the demon with its instincts and memories and all that it has learned... what is all that if not a soul?" Xander stopped and considered for a moment. "True, not a good soul, but then ve are demons."

"We?" Spike's eyes snapped up from where they had been investigating the lines in the marble. Yellow flickered through the blue, and Xander flinched at his own stupidity. He hadn't intended to go there, at least not yet.

"You know, we in the imperial sense, like when queens and kings say 'we' to mean 'me,' not that I mean me; I mean you," Xander broke off as he watched the disbelief and amusement in Spike's eyes. He crossed his arms and glared.

"Right then, I can see I don't have to worry 'bout you lyin' to me," Spike said with a twisted smile, and Xander could feel the heat in his skin as he blushed. He really was normally much better with the lying, not that lying was good. "So, what to ya mean by 'we'?" Spike repeated.

Xander sighed as he considered trying another lie, but he figured Spike already knew his deep, dark secret what with the threats. Hell after tonight, Giles probably had it figured out too. He took a deep breath. "I have a human soul, but I also have nine hundred years of vampire memories and instincts. I have a part of me that is still a vampire because it learned how to be a vampire." Xander shrugged helplessly since he really hadn't figured it out completely himself. "I'm the other side of Angel's curse. He is a vampire cursed with a human soul, and I'm a human cursed with a vampire's soul."

Spike stood silently and suspiciously next to the kitchen island, and this really wasn't going the way Xander had planned it. Not that he had actually done much planning. He was more with the acting now and trying to cover his ass later.

"I know what you need," Xander said as he closed the last bit of distance so that he could reach out and touch Spike, lay the palm of his hand on Spike's cheek and watch as Spike tilted into the gesture.

"You still smell like a soddin' human. If ya just let me turn ya--"

"No," Xander all but snarled. Spike pulled back, his eyes turning yellow in frustration. "I vill not be your childe. And as much as you might not mean to demand your rights as sire, the instincts are there. Vhen one has a childe who is too powerful, the results are not enviable," Xander snapped, his thoughts going to Jalon, but he forced his mind back to other matters as he reached out and grabbed the dangling chain.

"You need to fight, yes?" Xander asked as he moved forward until he pushed Spike back around the island, chest to chest. Spike didn't argue, but he didn't move voluntarily until forced by Xander's steady pursuit.

"Yeah, mate. Feel like a right git letting the talkin' happy meal order me around," Spike whispered the confession, glancing out of the side of his eye as he obviously expected an attack, but Xander had guessed as much. Instead he just wrapped the chain around his hand and continued to advance.

"But I am also your sire, childe. You submitted to me, and you vill honor that submission or I vill turn you to dust rather than turn you out alone." Xander hadn't expected to say those exact words since he wasn't actually big on the idea of staking Spike, but the vampire's body relaxed a little at the threat/promise.

Xander allowed his vampire memories to surface as he thought of what Dru had done. If she had tried to kill Spike, he could have fought his way free and earned his independence, but instead she had turned her back leaving him in a limbo. He couldn't fight free of someone who didn't want him, but without the fight, he couldn't break those bonds of allegiance that bound him to her. Just like with Angelus, Spike's instincts left him caught between being a childe of the line and breaking away to be a master of his own line. Aurelius vampires were fools.

"So, if you need to fight, let's give you something to fight, yes?" Xander asked as he closed the distance to the bed so that the back of Spike's knees pressed up against the mattress. Before giving Spike a chance to fully process that, he locked the one manacle to one of the four metal poles that stood at a corner of the bed.

"Bloody hell," Spike swore and pulled at the end, but the locking clasp at the end of the manacle held tight and Spike was chained. Xander watched as Spike's fist curled shut, and he could imagine the need to strike out even though Spike had just submitted, even though the chip would punish Spike. Xander stepped back out of range rather than test such a young one's patience.

"So," Xander pulled another manacle off the metal rack hanging next to his bed, "you will either lie down and offer me your other wrist, or I will amuse myself by giving you reason to be sorry." Xander waited to see how Spike would react. If he truly wanted to fight, the triangular weapons' rack formed by the angle of the bed in the corner offered plenty of interesting choices. Of course, Spike could make it easy by submitting, but Xander didn't think that would happen.

Sure enough, Spike stood by the side of the bed in game face yanking at his chained wrist as he snarled. Oh the emotions of youth. Xander walked to a corner shelf, dropping the manacle and picking up a decorative bottle with a heavy glass stopper.

"Last chance, my hellcat," Xander warned mildly.

"Soddin'... I bloody well can't," he snapped, and Xander understood that. Spike didn't truly believe Xander could make him submit, and without that, he couldn't submit on his own. Removing the heavy stopper, Xander placed it on the oak shelf as he poured the liquid out into his palm. Without any further warning, he flung his hand toward Spike, and listened as the holy water droplets hissed on Spike's skin and wisps of smoke drifted into the air.

"Fucking--" Spike stopped complaining as he grabbed a pillow and ripped off the pillow case to rub at his burned skin. Xander watched while Spike rubbed at his arms, timing his next throw so that an arc of water hit from Spike's shoulder, across his arm and then down onto his jeans.

Spike's answering growl came a half second before he threw himself forward and half across the bed before the chained wrist stopped him short of attacking Xander. Filling his palm again, Xander watched as Spike tried to retreat, shielding his face as Xander threw the next handful so that now the shirt and the back of Spike's neck took the brunt of the attack.

"You know how to stop this, my beautiful hellcat. Obey or you vill suffer." Xander wanted to run for the bathroom and grab fresh water to wash away the red welts that now appears on Spike's skin. He wanted to apologize and promise to never do it again. Unfortunately, doing that would only make Spike feel weak, and if Xander did that, Spike would have only one way to regain his confidence. Then Giles would feel a need to torture Spike, and Buffy would do the guilt thing about not staking Spike and Willow would cry big Willow type tears over his body, and really that was a little too much drama for his stomach. So despite the way that the smell of burning flesh made him nauseous, he didn't show his disgust as he considered his next move.

He'd expected Spike to go for the weapons now, but instead Spike pulled a manacle from off one of the weapon racks hanging on the wall on either side of the bed and flung the heavy thing at Xander with all his strength. Xander dodged to the side as the chain hit the shelf and glass tinkled down as a number of small bottles broke open.

The smell of cedar rose from one of the broken potions, and Xander sighed at the lost hours of work.

"You're starting to annoy me childe," Xander said as he threw a larger handful of water, careful to keep the drops from landing on the bed.

"I'll do more than annoy ya," Spike snarled and with one leap, he cleared the bed and grabbed at Xander. Dancing backward, Xander found himself crunching over glass, ignoring the sharp pain when a piece pierced the bottom of his shoe. Spike's fingernails scratched down one arm and then closed, claw-like, around Xander's wrist.

The attack left Spike stretched between the chained wrist and the hand that held Xander. When Spike started pulling, Xander bent down and grabbed a manacle before snapping it shut around Spike's wrist. Spike snarled and whipped Xander onto the bed so fast that Xander lost his breath when he hit the mattress. Before he could get up, Spike had thrown himself on top, and Xander found himself face down on his own bed and comfortably trapped.

"Spike," Xander said in his best threatening tone, and obviously it wasn't threatening enough because Spike simply started nuzzling at his neck. Xander limply waited as Spike's tongue teased his neck and then the vampire started gently sucking. When Xander first felt the twin pricks of sharp teeth, he waited for the chip to fire. And waited. And waited. Xander felt the first sensual pull of blood from his veins, and you really couldn't count on American technology any more.

Since the chip seemed to need some help, Xander bucked up as hard as he could. Spike's teeth, which had slid in so easily, now ripped skin and muscle as Xander fought. The pain made him yelp, and Spike screamed before rolling off him. Xander pushed himself up, and grabbed the trailing chain left lying against the pillow as Spike curled in a ball holding his head.

A moment had Spike's second hand securely chained, and now Spike could only stare up, yellow eyes dull with pain. Xander didn't say anything as he moved down to untie Spike's heavy boots, pulling them off as Spike lay silent and unmoving. However the tightness of the muscles as Xander removed the jeans spoke of silent rebellion and not submission.

Spike needed something words couldn't provide, and Xander could feel his own vampire instincts slide around his defenses like smoke flowing through the cracks around a closed door. Xander walked away from the bed, going to the low book case that sat on the edge of his office area. Closing his hand around a silver knife that sat on top of the piece, he scanned his books for the one he wanted. Finally he found it so high on a shelf that he had to use the lower shelves as a sort of ladder to grab the thin, cracking leather of the cover: Je Paegripelz Fornaielse—The Pleasure of Capture. With the knife still in hand, Xander carefully turned brittle pages as he walked silently back to the bed.

Glancing up, he could see Spike's yellow eyes following him. Xander absentmindedly swept broken shards of glass to the floor before setting the fragile book on the shelf Spike had attacked with the flying manacle, and Xander was so not cleaning up that mess. Eyeing Spike's shirt, Xander walked around to the far side of the bed without the broken glass and sat on the edge of the bed where he could slip the knife under the fabric.

With a loud ripping sound, Xander neatly shredded the t-shirt and pulled the fabric away so that Spike now lay naked, and Xander remembered this chiseled perfection. Moving onto the bed and straddling Spike's hips, Xander brought the knife up so that the cool flat blade lay against one of Spike nipples.

"You have punishment coming, little one, yes?" he whispered as he tilted the edge slightly and carefully scraped the edge over the skin just hard enough to make the flesh redden. The knife bumped over the puckered nipple, nicking the edge so that a drop of blood appeared. Xander bent down and licked the offering, sucking to get a bit more blood as he felt Spike's cock harden in response before he sat up again.

"First, you have insulted me. You put yourself in an indefensible position because you wanted to be captured. You vill not insult me by assuming that I need your assistance." Xander didn't miss the small flinch in Spike's body. He had guessed right. Bringing the knife up to the skin just below Spike's left nipple, Xander flicked his wrist and a small "c" shaped cut appeared. He quickly reversed the knife and carved a second backwards "c" that crossed the first. Blood welled in the curve of the cut, a bulb of red rising until gravity pulled it down across Spike's chest in a trail of red.

After allowing the trail to weave drunkenly down Spike's trembling body for a second, Xander used the edge of the blade to catch the drop, scraping up Spike's chest and leaving a wide path of red as he followed the blood back up to the original wound, catching the blood on the knife. Without taking his eyes from Spike, Xander brought the knife up and carefully licked the blood from the silver surface.

"Second, you have lied to me. You drop your head in submission that you do not feel, and you fight those to whom you owe allegiance." Xander brought the knife to a spot an inch below the first mark. With quick motions, he created a lop-sided "x" below his first mark. Again, he watched the blood pool and then fall before scraping Spike's body clean. When he finished licking the knife clean this time, he felt Spike buck up under him, a hard cock pressing into him from below.

"Not yet, my hellcat. You must take your punishment first," Xander warned Spike, and Spike's yellow eyes narrowed in challenge, but then he couldn't really do much else except tighten his grip on the chains that tethered him to the bed. "Third, you have spoken to me disrespectfully. You vill accept my decisions in front of others even as I grant you permission to challenge me in private." Xander's cut this time resembled a check mark with a curving hat.

"I never…" Spike protested, but Xander pressed the knife to Spike's chest in warning, and he closed his mouth without finishing.

"You forced me to threaten you in front of Giles. You vill not do that again," Xander reminded him, scraping a little harder across the skin this time to ensure that Spike understood, and the pale skin turned bright red.

Spike hissed in pain, but his cock also twitched, the head swelling out from the foreskin. Xander considered his handiwork before bringing the knife down again to a point just below the third mark. "Fourth, you have doubted me." This time Xander cut deeper, a straight "I" with a crooked line through it: the runic symbol for need. The deeper cut made blood run from the wound, and Xander scraped up, forcing the blood back up onto Spike's stomach where it pooled around his belly button.

"And, of course, your worst sin." Xander eyed the carved chest and took a deep breath before the next bit. "You allowed yourself to be captured and you allowed yourself to be forced into submission by food." Xander put the knife at the center point between the two nipples as he drew the knife down to the belly button. This time he didn't try and catch the rivulets of blood that sprang up from the quarter-inch deep cut.

"I won't submit to food," Spike snarled, snapping his fangs and he bucked up in the air, and Xander braced himself for the fight.

"No, you vill not," Xander agreed. "You vill never be so foolish or impetuous again because I vill not allow it, childe."

"Not your bloody childe," Spike snarled.

"Yes, you are. You are my childe or you vill be dust." Xander braced himself on Spike's chest as Spike snarled and bucked up, pulling against the manacles until red appeared around the edge of the iron.

"I'd rather be dust," Spike growled, but Xander didn't believe that for a moment. Spike's hard cock still proved his childe's true needs, but Spike had to submit or the spell would never work.

"Do you submit to Angel?" Xander asked carefully.

"Bloody hell no."

"Because you do not yield to the human soul that dominates your sire," Xander said confidently. "Look at me, childe," Xander ordered, using the flat of the blade against the vampire's cheek to force Spike's head toward him. "Look at me," Xander ordered again, and yellow eyes finally locked onto him. "Look at me, look at this room. The human soul does not dominate. I am human, but I am just as much vampire, and you are my childe. You vill submit or I vill turn you to dust. The vampire soul in this body vill turn you to dust even though the human part of me vould release you and have mercy."

Xander watched as Spike's eyes searched him, and then the tension broke. Beneath him, Spike's body relaxed, and the eyes that searched him slowly turned blue.

"Bloody hell, ya really are both, aren't ya?"

"I am," Xander admitted for the first time. He and Angel had spent many nights sitting in the park or on headstones discussing that night, either of those nights, and he had never said the words even if he suspected that Angel knew. Never before had he admitted to the second set of beliefs and values that constantly whispered in his mind. "And you vill not forget it again," Xander finished as he brought the knife to his own thumb before cutting a "v" shape in the pad.

"Vo vos audite meus lacuna , vo vos memor meus lacuna , vo vos pareo meus lacuna," Xander chanted as he brought his bleeding thumb down over Spike's sternum, his blood and Spike's mixing. "You will not fight me again, my hellcat. I am the sire and I vill remain so until one of us ceases to exist."

Despite Spike's early complaint about Xander's threat to use magic, Xander could feel the vampire relaxing even more. The bonds were tight, and his hellcat could relax knowing that the time for fighting had ended.

"My hellcat," Xander whispered appreciatively as he trailed a finger through the cooling blood, using it to create swirls and darts across the unmarked right side of Spike's chest before he lowered his weight onto his trapped hellcat and claimed his mouth. Spike trembled, but remained otherwise still as Xander explored curves and angles with his hands while tasting his young one, sucking at a fang until he could feel Spike quiver.

"So, ground rules, yes?" Xander panted out as he pulled back, his own balls aching with a supreme need to finish this little ritual. Well, unless he came in his pants, which was becoming more and more of a possibility. And wouldn't that just be embarrassing.

"Let's have 'em, then," Spike said, but Xander could hear the worry under the tone of indifference.

"I like you as you are, impetuous and fiery, but you will not challenge me in front of the others," Xander said, and then he moved his attack to Spike's shoulder, nipping a small piece of skin, which made Spike tilt his head to one side and thrust up into Xander's body.

"You vill not submit to other humans, though. You stay near me and let me deal with them," Xander amended that as he considered just how pushy Willow and Buffy could be. He had years of deflecting them, and he didn't feel like watching Spike lowered by their demands.

"Right, no submitting to the happy meals," Spike said, and Xander had to smile at his hellcat's attempt to find the boundary.

"You are a vampire, and I vill not ask you to change," Xander said as he pushed up and looked into Spike's eyes. "You are William the Bloody, terror of Europe and China. You are the Slayer of Slayers. You are a vampire strong enough to claim the title of Master at a mere century, and I vill not take any of that from you. You are a Master in your own right, but you are also mine. I claimed you, I hold your allegiance, my magic binds you to me," Xander emphasized this by pressing his thumb to the first rune he'd carved. "And can I say ew?" Xander suddenly complained as he looked at his favorite blue shirt. The subtle strip of dark blue on darker blue disappeared under the abstract brown pattern formed by Spike's blood.

"Right, so is making fun of you on or off the menu?" Spike asked, and Xander looked down at the amusement in Spike's eyes. For the first time, Xander could see his hellcat, no fears or doubts or pain—just the devilish amusement he'd first seen on that night when Spike had thought he'd caught the weak member of the Scoobie gang alone on Halloween night.

"It depends on how much you want to be punished," Xander answered with a laugh as he stripped out of the shirt, throwing it on the floor before attacking his own belt, struggling with it as he felt his own cock and balls throb with need, a need matched by Spike's own as he lay with his cock hard and a single drop of precum glistening on his stomach.

"Oi, figure I can take anything you dish out," Spike said, and Xander laughed again at the challenge of it as he scooted to the side of the bed and wiggled out of his jeans.

"Oh you do, do you?" Xander asked. "We'll see about that." Xander stood by the side of the bed and considered the body laid out before him. Spike writhed invitingly, and Xander ran a finger up the inside of one chained arm as he considered his possibilities. He knew what he wanted to do, but he had to gather his nerve a bit since technically he hadn't done this before, and even counting vampire memories, he'd never done this willingly.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Xander leaned over and took Spike's cock in his mouth, holding the base while he gently sucked the end. The results were spectacular. Spike reared up off the bed, and Xander could feel the cock thickening even more in his hand, and really that was of the weird. Xander sucked harder, using his tongue to play with the foreskin, and then he could feel the stiffening and contracting that announced the coming orgasm.

Xander pulled back, letting go and watching as Spike dropped to the bed with a breathy "fuck."

"Well that was fun," Xander said as he watched Spike glare at him. He went over to the second bookshelf, the one Spike hadn't wreaked, and considered his options. Picking up a silver container, he went back to the bed.

"Sadistic bastard," Spike complained when Xander gave that hard cock a flick with his finger, but then the hardness did suggest that Spike didn't really mind.

"Legs open," Xander ordered as he tipped the container and oil dribbled out a small hole. Spike opened his legs wide, and Xander started by rubbing a little oil into the balls before trailing back to that vulnerable entrance. Spike hissed in pleasure and frustration as Xander worked, and Xander just waited with a knowing smile as he felt the tingles start on the hand he had used to apply the oil.

Xander had one finger up in Spike before he started twisting and pulling at the shackles.

"Bloody hell, what the…"

"It has nettle extract," Xander admitted, "gives a bit of a tingle." He waggled his eyebrows at Spike, and Spike opened his mouth to answer. However, when Xander blew across the oiled balls, the words disappeared under a strangled cry as Spike dug his heels into the bed and pushed up into the air.

"Fucking hell," Spike cursed, and Xander slipped a second finger in, teasing even further by just barely brushing the prostate.

"So, are you going to apologize for making fun of me?" Xander asked playfully as he scissored his fingers open.

"Wot? I never—" his words disappeared under another strangled cry as Xander blew across the skin again.

"Oh, I guess you're right. You just asked if you could," Xander admitted. "Well, now you know what the punishment would be for making fun of me." Somehow he didn't think it would work as a deterrent. Spike panted, and Xander watched the chest rise and fall in a way that made Spike look strangely human. Normally vampires only breathed when they needed the air to make the vocal cords work, but Spike did so as a nervous habit, his humanity still clinging to him, and Xander guessed he should be grateful since he was kind of stuck in the middle himself.

Unable to tease Spike or himself any more, Xander knelt between Spike's legs and pulled them up to expose the entrance. Lining up carefully, he thrust in without any caution, trusting the prep work and a vampire's need for a little pain with the pleasure. The movement crushed his own cock hard enough to bring tears to his eyes and force his own orgasm back as he adjusted, and this had been a lot easier when he'd been a vamp himself.

"Bloody hell, I'm fine, move your bloody arse," Spike cursed in his own brand of begging and Xander pulled back, feeling the artificial heat of the nettle-infused oil and the tightness of Spike's passage. Thrusting in so hard that skin slapped against skin, Xander felt his own orgasm crash through him without warning, and yeah he had definitely liked the vampire control a whole lot better because coming after two thrusts was such a teenage boy thing to do, but Xander couldn't deny biology.

Giving a few short thrusts into that warm, tight channel, Xander collapsed onto Spike, panting in need. Xander could feel Spike's cock twitch under him.

"Not finished here, pet," Spike pointed out in a brittle voice.

"Hardly my problem," Xander muttered as he gathered his brain cells back together. "Besides, I did say I would show you the punishment for making fun of me," Xander pointed out as he carefully pulled out of Spike, his cock aching in that tight embrace.

"Bloody hell, you wouldn't," Spike said, blue eyes going yellow again.

"I'm your sire, I bloody well would," Xander pointed out. Despite the little niggle of guilt that suggested a couple of well placed strokes would do the job, Xander stood up and pulled his belt out of the pile of clothes. Wrapping it around Spike's legs twice, he tightened the buckle and considered the bound body in the middle of his bloody bed.

"I have to get new sheets and meet Cordelia and go put a bandage on my foot. You wait here," Xander said with a playful slap to Spike's hip. Spike glared daggers, but Xander didn't miss how his cock twitched.

"I'll be back to take care of you, so until then, you can lay there and think about all the ways to make up for running out on me twice, childe of mine," Xander said as he walked away. Now that he'd mentioned it, his foot really did hurt, and he headed to the bathroom to check out the damage. Spike would just have to learn, like all good childer, he had to wait until the sire got around to him.

Part Five

Xander scooted back a bit, trying to avoid the broken spring on the old sofa sleeper as he watched the small television he kept in the outer apartment. Not that it was an apartment—more like a large closet with a refrigerator at one end. If he honestly had to live in a dump like this, he would set fire to it just for the pleasure of watching it burn.

Sitting in the flickering light of the television, Xander suddenly wondered what the hell he was doing. He… what? Loved? Desired? Lusted after? Felt possessive about Spike? Oh god, Xander let his head fall back against the couch and stared at the yellowing ceiling. Okay. He felt something for an evil creature, and did that make him evil? Xander knew he had evil in his heart and had since the hyena and the vampire, maybe even before that, but he couldn't avoid thinking that hanging out with the bleached evil was making him feel a little more evil than normal.

But hanging out with a vampire again, hunting, having a clan… not that he needed a clan. Nope, not the Xand man. He just needed friends, like Willow and Buffy, only ones that saw him as a fighter and who enjoyed the feeling of a sharp sword slicing through flesh and didn't complain about demon goo on shoes or go all weird when Xander laughed in the face of danger. He liked laughing in the face of danger.

Xander shot a glance toward the bathroom door as he shifted again and then really just wished Cordy would just show up because he was starting to get a headache. He wasn't thinky-boy, as evidenced by the fact that he had obviously started something he couldn't handle.

Unfortunately, Cordelia Chase didn't live by anyone's expectations or preferences, so he sat and stared at some bad science fiction movie, the plot of which seemed to be to get as many earth women out of their clothes as possible.

Xander had watched nearly an hour of women with spandex shirts that bounced with every step, and he still hadn't figured out any plot by the time a pounding at the door interrupted him. Sighing, he escaped the grip of the butt-poking couch and peered through the peep hole. In this neighborhood, you could never be too cautious, but only Cordy stood there with an expression that suggested she hadn't enjoyed the trip.

Pulling the door open, he plastered on his best smile. "Cordy!" he cheerfully welcomed her as he stepped back. He'd expected various Cordy-insults aimed at his pathetic, small apartment, but she just looked around and made a small disgusted sniff before getting to the point.

"So, where's the Bleached Menace?" Cordy demanded, a blue cooler over one arm and a small designer bag over the other. Trust Cordy to look like a million dollars even while living off a vamp who grew up when five dollars a week could make a man a nice living. Xander guessed that Cordy was probably in the middle of breaking Angel of that belief.

"Out," he answered shortly.

"Ah-huh. Right. You just let him go wandering around town?" She didn't bother hiding her disdain or her disbelief.

"He's chipped; he can't hurt anyone," Xander pointed out, working to control his frustration at her challenging tone of voice.

"Exactly, and you just let the helpless vampire go wandering around with the soldier boys out there hunting?" Cordy put the cooler on the tiny island that barely had enough room for one placemat and turned to glare at him with her hands on her hips.

"It's not like he's a prisoner," Xander snapped, and the minute he did, he regretted it as Cordy's eyes turned to stone. Xander crossed his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the rising discomfort. Okay, now he knew why Angel complained about her. Of course, he kinda already knew she had a nearly magical ability to make anyone she looked at like a bug actually feel like a bug, and considering she was a Hellmouth-raised princess, there just might be magic involved.

Xander dropped his gaze and suddenly he felt a familiar self-hate at the fact that he was backing down to Cordy because she was just a human, but then he was just a human, and Xander closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he tried to gather his quickly scattering thoughts.

"I don't care what you two have going on, but you'd better leave Angel out of it. Every time you call he spends the next week pounding some poor punching bag or some poor demon or in one memorable case, one poor wall. Of course then he gets guilty and buys me things for acting like an ass, but I can get him to do that without your help, thank you very much." Cordelia stopped, and Xander looked at her with an open mouth.

"Um, okay?" he stuttered an answer, not sure how to handle a Cordelia who sounded strangely protective of Angel. A nagging part of him resented a human's claim on a master vampire, but then he was sort of pot and kettlish on that score.

"So, where's Spike?" she asked again, the anger gone in a blink as she examined the room, which was strange since there really wasn't much to examine.

"He's not here. I don't have him shoved in the closet if that's what you're worried about," Xander said as he watched Cordy's eyes focus on the closet doors. Xander rolled his eyes and went to load the blood from the cooler into the small, dirty refrigerator with the motor that made a high-pitched whine when he kept the door open too long.

"Uh huh," Cordelia went over to the closet and slid open the doors. One stuck and she swore softly as she tried to wrestle it back onto the track. "So, where are you living these days?"

Xander nearly dropped the blood. "Hey, what you see is what you get," he answered after an awkward moment of juggling a squishy bag of blood while holding the refrigerator door open with his hip.

"Right. So, where's that comic book you raved about for days when Buffy touched it?"

"I don't know what you mean," Xander said as his heart started beating faster. The comic in question was hanging in an airtight display in his real living room along with several others he'd bought over the years.

"Considering that thing said 10 cents on the cover, I don't see why you got so cranky about Buffy tossing it, but I definitely remember your face turning a beautiful shade of white. I also remember that you used to have some surprisingly not disgusting clothing in your closet. This thing is full of flannel and geekwear." Cordelia waved a dismissive hand at the closet and then sat on the arm of the couch, which was actually the most comfortable part of the thing.

"I, um," Xander struggled to come up with an answer. "When did you see my closet?" Xander went for distraction, but from the amused look of disbelief, he did it poorly.

"Senior year, that day we all came over right before we blew up the school. I sure as hell wasn't checking out you, so I had to look at something," Cordelia shrugged. "But enough about you, Angel promised you were providing payment for this little side trip."

Xander finished stacking the blood and happily followed Cordelia onto the new topic. "Hey, not sure this is real, but I found it in one of the vampire lairs we raided last year. Xander opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out the red and gold bauble. He traded a good solid week on a translation of a family lineage for a demon that smelled like moldy bread to get the piece. Now he offered it to Cordelia. He'd been planning on offering a smaller blue bracelet, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Cordy's sharp vision was making him pretty damn desperate.

"Oh, Xander," Cordelia breathed reverently as she stood up and flipped on the kitchen light to see the pendant better. "This is real ruby," she fingered the stone that hung from the gold chain, and Xander smiled at the expression of awe. Now if she just forgot the rest of the conversation, it would all be worth it.

"Hey, count on demon lairs to be full of the good stuff. Or is that dragon lairs that have the treasure?" Xander went to go sit on the couch, but he found himself in a tight hug. Before he had a chance to return the embrace, Cordelia had let him go and practically pushed him toward the couch.

"I should probably have it cleaned to make sure I don't get cooties," Cordelia sniffed.

"You know, as much as you abuse me, why didn't we ever get together?" Xander asked with a wink.

"Because I'm top dog, and I don't plan on sharing that spot with someone with equal parts bossiness and dorkitude," Cordelia answered in a voice so matter-of-fact that Xander had to gather his thoughts for a second.

"I'm hurt," he finally complained as she fastened the gold and ruby necklace so that the stone lay on her bare skin, winking at him in red flashes.

"Whatever. Just do me a favor and leave Angel out of this because he goes and does the whole brooding thing whenever you two talk."

"Hey, so not my fault."

"So don't care," Cordelia shot back with an exaggerated shrug and a small smile. "Just so don't call any more."

"Right, like I want to talk to Deadboy,"

"If you need to talk…" Cordelia's voice grew suddenly serious, and Xander saw a flash of the true Cordy, the one who stayed with Angel because she had just as much loyalty and selflessness in her as anyone he'd ever known. Someone who delighted in verbally torturing others as she hid that more compassionate side, and he could appreciate her flare for torture too.

"I'm okay, Cordy," he answered just as seriously.

"'Okay' might be a strong word for it. I'd say more like not a complete dork," Cordelia sniped back, mask firmly in place, and Xander smiled.

"A complete dork who just gave you jewelry, so I think I've bought myself some insult free time this evening."

"As if. You're just lucky I have some real work, other than playing go between for you and McBroody pants." Cordelia leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before she turned around and headed for the door, waving her hand over her shoulder in a farewell.

Xander watched her breeze out of his apartment. Right. Time to deal with Spike. Chipped Spike. Not that he wanted Spike dechipped. Okay, maybe a little want in there. Xander sighed as he closed and locked the door. Spike needed Angel's blood, and he needed a brain transplant, but at least he could fix one problem.

Walking into the inner apartment, Xander avoided looking at the corner with the tied-up vampire as he focused on the west wall. His prized comics hung in sealed containers that protected them from dust or grease or inconsiderate slayers. The one with Robin crashing through a paper hoop to appear for the very first time had a place of honor on the top row with the first comic book to feature Cat Woman and the one with Superman joining Batman and the one where Spiderman had to fight the Chameleon.

"Give me your word that you won't do anything I wouldn't do," Xander said, still facing the wall.

"Seems like I'm not sure what that means," Spike's voice sounded calm, but Xander could imagine how the childe felt. He'd pledged himself to a sire who just might have lost his marbles. Then again, this should be familiar territory for Spike. Xander turned around and found himself mesmerized by the sight of that perfect body spread out in front of him, still tied to the bed by his wrists with his ankles wrapped in leather.

"Promise me that you won't do anything I might find morally of the bad. No killing nuns or eating babies."

Spike's head tilted to one side as he held his head up at an awkward angle that left him looking down the length of his body.

"Right then, those the only terms?"

Xander thought quickly. "No doing harm to anyone who doesn't, you know, completely deserve it. And at least try to avoid doing harm even when someone does deserve it," Xander amended himself. Spike stared at him silently. "And no doing stuff that could hurt someone even if the chip lets you do it, so no trying to make Buffy starve herself to death by calling her fat. In fact, no calling Buffy fat at all because she so isn't, but if she doesn't stop dieting… and I think I'm going to stop now." Xander felt his face heat as he realized he had just blown through all his cool points. But at least he wasn't the one tied up. Xander wandered across the middle of the room, biting his lower lip and considering the perfect body laid out before him.

"So, you want me to be some bloody boy scout?" Spike asked, scorn clear in his voice.

"No!" Xander instantly replied before the rest of his brain started complaining about Spike tone of voice.

"Then wot?" Spike's accent thickened and his face froze into a cold expression, one that others might call anger, but Xander thought probably held more fear.

Xander sighed as he tried to get this right. The words he spoke now meant too much for him to fuck this up. "Promise me that while you will still be snarky and bitchy and just as—" Xander struggled for a word, "as puerile as ever, you won't actually cause permanent or substantial harm to anyone if you can avoid it."

He looked into Spike's eyes as he reached the side of the bed. Reaching out, he trailed one finger up the captive leg, feeling the smooth, cool skin ripple in response. "Promise me that you won't make me sorry for getting that chip out for good. Promise me that you won't do something to confirm Giles' belief that I'm in total self-destructive mode here." Xander now focused on that hard cock as he allowed his fingers to brush the edge of the surrounding hair, his fingertips exploring the curve of a hip and the dip of a bellybutton as Spike hissed an unnecessary breath. "Promise me," Xander finished. He splayed his fingers out against Spike's strong thigh and looked into bright blue eyes.

Spike considered him for several minutes, and Xander knew that Spike knew that his words would matter.

"You askin' me ta go crawling around your mates?" he finally asked.

"No! Um, I'm thinking I don't want them to see you crawl. I don't intend on anyone seeing you crawl," Xander's fingers tightened until they created furrows in the flesh and he had to intentionally loosen his grip.

"So, if I have the chip out and some soldier boy is tryin' to take me?" Spike let his question trail off.

Taking a deep breath, Xander sat on the bed and stroked a patch of skin as he watched Spike struggle to not twist and whine in need. "I'm not big on the thinkiness. I've always been more on the act now and figure out how to cover my tracks later. Hell, even as a vampire I drove Nusa insane with the whole taking on a slayer by myself trick, which I managed to do over and over and over again despite skin-flaying whippings, and thinking was not really a big part of the package."

Xander remembered that part of his history with equal parts pride and self-loathing. He just really hoped that part was all imagination, the overcompensating of a Zeppo who had a slayer always telling him to go home despite the fact he had fought at Angel's side any number of times. He hoped the memory of killing five slayers was his own sick and twisted imagination and not chaos magic making the impossible possible.

"Anyway, I've decided I'm going to stop with the thinking and go with acting first, covering of ass later," Xander admitted.

"Right then. What the bloody hell does that mean?" Spike asked, but the tone carried more amusement than anything else. Well, maybe less amusement than frustration, but Xander was chalking that one up to the slow, tender stokes he now made up and down the shaft of Spike's cock, a tenderness more torture than any whip.

"Means that I would want you to kill as few soldiers as possible," Xander answered, "and no torture, definitely no torture," he amended himself after remembering Angel's story of Spike's last visit.

"Deal," Spike offered. "My word on it, and while I'm an evil, murderous bastard, I do keep my word."

"Oh yes, you will," Xander agreed as the magic made the air flare with a subtle heat before it shimmered and settled into Spike's skin.

"So, the only thing definitely off the menu is torture; torture's my job," Xander added as he swirled a thumb around the head of Spike's cock and then took his hand away altogether as Spike made an awkward attempt to thrust up.

"After all," Xander said with a smile, "I'm sire, and that makes this body mine," Xander pointed out as he ran a fingernail up the underside of that engorged cock. Spike slid into gameface and snarled. Xander only pulled back again, and this time aimed a snapping finger at the head, tweaking it hard enough to elicit a growl from Spike.

"Mine," Xander said cheerfully as he flicked the head of Spike's cock a second time. "Mine," Xander reached down and jerked a single hair out of Spike's balls. Spike hissed, snake-like and low. "Mine," Xander said as he trailed a tickling finger around the head of the cock so that frustration shone out of Spike like rays of sunshine.

"In fact, you're all mine, and I'm never letting you go again," Xander said as he yanked off his shirt and lay down next to the bound body. "You're my deadly pet, and you'll never escape me," Xander reached over and took a small brownish nipple in his teeth and nipped sharply before sucking.

Spike groaned, and his self-control snapped as he started twisting so that the metal frame of the bed creaked. Xander ignored the struggles and continued to alternate sharp nips that caused bucking desperation and sucking that led to a needier twisting motion.

"All mine, and I can do whatever I feel like with you," Xander pointed out. "I can leave you tied here forever and slam into you a dozen times a day until you're worn out and used up and lay here limp from pleasure and pain."

"No bloody way you can wear me out, mate," Spike snapped back, and Xander recognized the challenge. He laughed slowly and quietly, little more than a chuckle.

"Maybe I'll just fill you up then, stuff the world's largest dildo up your ass and seal it in so that every time you move you remember that your body is mine. Maybe I'll mark you so that every time you look at yourself you remember that I'm never going to let you off this invisible leash you're going to wear for the rest of your unlife." Xander dug a fingernail into one of the faint rune scars hard enough to make a crescent-shaped cut. Xander had a dozen more small tortures planned, but Spike's body stiffened and arched as he came all over his own stomach.

Xander looked up at Spike's face, both eyebrows raised in question and wishing he could figure out the one eyebrow trick.

"Don't bloody say it; it's been too damn long. Besides, it's not like you lasted either," Spike complained.

Xander didn't say anything, but he did laugh as he settled back down onto the bed, thinking that he really needed new sheets. Seriously needed new sheets. However, tomorrow would have to be soon enough.

"Plannin' on untying me?" Spike asked as he yanked the wrist shackles, making the chains rattle.

"Nope," Xander answered as he tucked a pillow between Spike's head and arm so that he could lay his head next to his childe's. Clapping twice, Xander made the apartment lights turn off as he hummed the tune of "Clap on, clap off."

Part Six

Morning came entirely too soon for Xander, or afternoon anyway since he found late hours suited both his sidekick-to-the-slayer and his translator-to-the-demons personas. As he struggled out of sleep, he found himself remarkably unbothered by the whole giving-Spike-permission-to-kill thing even though he knew Giles and Willow would put him through a depossession spell while Buffy yelled at him. He was just going to have to live with not telling them. Ever. Never ever.

While Spike still slept, Xander went to the outer apartment to get some of the sire's blood to help Spike heal up. Despite the human blood he'd had yesterday and the night's sleep, the vampire's color still suggested poor feeding. And despite the agreement, Xander could still practically feel Spike fighting to not fight. Xander wasn't about to let Spike near anyone until he was physically ready and not struggling with their relationship. Putting the blood into his real refrigerator until Spike woke, he started his 'morning' routine.

"Soddin' bored now," a voice complained when Xander had all his concentration on tracking down the possible verb conjugation forms for an Amphisbaena dialect.

"Gah!" Xander dropped the pen he was using and clutched the edge of his desk.

"What the?" Spike's voice sounded concerned for only a second before he started laughing.

"Laugh it up," Xander groused, "I'm trying to do work here, and you startled me."

"Right, scared of the dark too?" Spike's voice carried none of the venom of his words but even so, Xander felt a flare of anger that his own childe would so disrespect him. Xander pushed himself half out of his chair. Before he could even stand, Spike's eyes dropped down to the floor. Fury drained from Xander as he realized that for Spike, this probably counted as obedience. Besides, he didn't want to pull his hellcat's claws.

"At least I'm not stupid enough to piss off the person with the keys to the chains and the access to the sire's blood," Xander pointed out, and he went ahead and stood up, a smirk on his own face. Spike's eyes darted back up, and Xander remembered being on the other side of this dominance ritual.

He remembered racing through the park, Buffy distracted by the need to pound Giles' location out of someone, scabby-faced minions stalking them, being human and getting dragged to Angelus. He remembered being forced to his knees while Angelus ruffled his hair with deceptively gentle fingers and described how he would torture Xander, not that he had time to do most of it. He remembered being shoved in a room with Spike, expecting that the younger vampire would want revenge. He remembered making those same darting glances as he tried to figure out how far he could push the crippled vampire… or rather the not-crippled but faking it vampire.

Spike's eyes darted up and found something that encouraged him to keep eye contact. "Oi, not fair," he complained in a thick accent.

"Oh yeah, and you expect me to be fair?" Xander turned his back to the rather satisfying sight of a chained Spike in his bed and fished two blood packets out of the refrigerator.

"Yeah, well you're a human, the slayer's white knight even. You were ready to die under Angelus in order to give her time to save the world," Spike's voice had an unusual seriousness, and Xander remembered that night, what he'd done to keep Angelus busy while Spike went to Buffy for help.

"And you turned against your line to save the world right beside her," Xander pointed out as he heated the blood.

"They weren't my line by then, were they?" Spike answered just as quickly. Xander looked up at the seriousness in Spike's face, their gazes locking for a good minute until the microwave beeped to a stop. Retrieving the giant yellow mug with "Thinking of you" on the outside and "naked" on the inside hidden by the blood, Xander headed over to the bed.

"They aren't worthy of you," Xander said as he put the cup down on the triangle-shaped shelf between the last kitchen cupboard and the bedroom area. "They're deficient," Xander added when he considered the ploys Angelus had fallen for. He never would have fallen for the doe-eyed "please don't rape me again, you're just too manly and big" trap.

"Not like my plans have been goin' well lately," Spike pointed out, and Xander stopped, key half-way to the manacle as he looked down at his vampire.

"Yeah, well considering Buffy's taken out the Master and his minions and Angelus and Order of Teraka and Bazor-momma and the Judge and how long are you going to let me keep going on because the blood's getting cold," Xander said as he unlocked the chains.

"Well, when you put it like that, I'm in good company," Spike smirked as he sat up, cracking his back before reaching out for Angel's blood.

"Of course, no one else had a chance to take down Buffy, and you had her dead to rights twice and couldn’t finish her off because you were doing the whole bragging bit. You really need to work on that," Xander finished. Spike didn't answer, and Xander had no idea if that was some silent acceptance of the criticism or enjoyment of sire's blood. He put the chains away without continuing with the lecture since he didn't really have room to throw many stones.

"So, ya plannin' on telling me what your handiwork means?" Spike finally asked, looking down at the small runes carved along the left side of his chest.

"You mean these?" Xander asked, reaching over and tracing fingers down the pale skin. The runes remained, small flat scars that would remain as long as the spell. "Just a little blood magic," Xander shrugged dismissively. "Don't you trust me?"

"Let ya carve 'em, didn't I?"

"You didn't have much of a choice," Xander pointed out as he carried the now empty mug to the kitchen where he put it on the counter.

"Details," Spike dismissed that with a wave, "so what exactly did you carve in there?"

Xander returned to the bed and looked down at the strong, lean body and at the runes carved into it. He considered whether or not he really wanted to confess. Reaching out, he ran his finger over Spike's cool skin, feeling the edge of the scar that formed the first rune, the double-sided cup.

"It invokes Janus." Rubbing the skin a little harder, he felt the heat of friction as his finger traced the nearly invisible scar. "He's the god of beginnings and endings and new starts. Ethan used his image to summon the original spell, so it seemed right to ask him back."

"Can't say I'm in favor of any god watchin' me—demon here," Spike objected, and Xander shrugged.

"Little late to object now," he pointed out. He moved his finger down to the second mark, the 'x'. "The Roman god Orcus might be more your kind of god. He's the god of oaths, and he punishes anyone who breaks an oath, like someone who would refuse to obey after submitting." Xander looked at Spike with a serious expression, and allowed the silence to say all the things he didn't want to have to say out loud, all the consequences for breaking an oath once you were brought to that god's attention. The threats that lay in that figure that Xander had carved in flesh, Xander couldn't bring himself to say, and illogic, thy name is Xander.

"Bloody hell, that's taking things a mite bit far," Spike said, his eyebrows lowering in concern as he looked at the mark.

"Ah, but he is also a vengeance god who will give blood retribution for those who are wronged," Xander then pointed out. Spike's eyes snapped to him, and Xander stared back steadily. Spike's expression slowly turned from one of outrage to satisfaction.

"The third mark," Xander fingered the checkmark, "is Furrina, the Roman goddess of darkness who makes things clear. When those who hunt in the dark pay homage to the goddess, their luck will improve." Spike's face took on a definite smug edge.

"The last one," Xander fingered the "I" mark. "It's the Celtic symbol for need, but it's also the symbol for the goddess Adeona." Xander stopped there.

"And what's she do?" Spike asked quietly.

"She guides lost children home," Xander answered. He looked up, and Spike stared at him with open shock. For several seconds, they remained frozen, Spike sitting on the edge of the bed clutching a mug, and Xander allowing his hands to explore the carved spell, fingertips brushing off flakes of dried blood.

"Not exactly a demonic spell there, luv," Spike finally said, the accent mutated into something that sounded like Giles and BBC news and that soap opera he could never understand.

"I'm not a demon, Spike. You demon; me human." Xander shrugged. "Of course, I think I might be a morally challenged human because this spell means you have to obey me or suffer the anger of some pretty big gods, and I'm fairly sure than enslaving people is on the not-so-much side of morality."

"What? No lightening? No Hellmouth opening and flinging me to hell if I disobey?" Spike asked, blue eyes both amused and challenging.

"Don't even say that!" Xander reached out and slapped a hand over Spike's mouth.

"I think having four powerful beings pissed at you and giving you the worst luck in all creation is bad enough. Around here that might even be enough to open the Hellmouth." Xander pulled his hand back and clapped it over his own mouth. Spike gave a quick bark of laughter before he settled for smirking so broadly that his cheekbones became sharp cliffs.

"Hey, this is the Hellmouth. And I totally didn't mean that, so takebacks," Xander said as he glared at Spike.

"Right, because the evil gathering around the Hellmouth allows for takebacks," Spike said.

"Yeah, well if you aren't careful, you're going to find yourself with the kind of luck where a car kicks up a rock and breaks your front window when you're driving in daylight or you trip over a shoelace in the middle of kicking the ass of some demon or the slayer is seriously PMS'ing on the day you insult her new jeans," Xander warned in a more serious tone.

"Bloody hell, you wouldn't."

"I already did, my Hellcat. Break your vord to submit to me, and Orcus will demand revenge and Furrina will find you anywhere you hide. You're mine." Xander watched Spike's body shiver, that cock, which had started hardening when Xander traced the runes, hardened even more now.

"Wait a soddin' minute. If this means I can't ever lie…" Spike let a growl carry the bulk of his threat.

"Nope, just your word to me that you would submit, so at this point, doing anything that would be considered refusing to submit would be bad of the unlife-ending variety," Xander confirmed.

"Effin' mojo," Spike snapped.

"Yeah, but now that I know you aren't going to try eating the innocent of Sunnydale, we can concentrate on getting that chip out of your head. Well, that and other stuff of the you submitting variety." Xander trailed his fingertips up and circled the back of Spike's head, pulling the vampire up. He could feel a moment's hesitation before Spike followed the unspoken command and stood.

"Someone needs a reminder lesson in submission," Xander commented calmly, a thousand lesson plans running through his head, many of them making his stomach roll uncomfortably even as his cock hardened, and he was a sick, sick boy.

"Don't bloody need lessons. Could do with some shaggin' though," Spike suggested with a shimmy of his body. Spike's naked body pressing into him reminded him that his childe needed this; his childe needed to know that Xander's Zeppo parts wouldn't stop him from being a sire. Xander hesitated, his hand on Spike's ass pulling him close as the realization struck him. God. He really was dumb. After Angel and the soul and the no more with the sire stuff and the whole Yoda betrayer screaming, he really should have figured this one out about three exits back.

"You will take whatever lessons I chose to teach, my Hellcat," Xander corrected him, suddenly understanding what he had to do in order to prove himself. He slapped Spike's ass hard enough to make the sound echo in the room. Against his neck, bone shifted, and Xander could feel vampire ridges pushing into his skin. Well, he could feel them until Spike started slowly sucking at his neck, giving him an old fashioned hickey like Amy had… at least until she'd gone and rat-tat-tooied herself, and Xander shivered as he realized that of all his potential and actual lovers had been some attempt to get back this feeling: Amy with her magical powers, Faith with her slayer powers, a blissfully short-lived crush on Cordy with her emasculating powers. He missed the feeling that he was petting a tiger that could turn and rip his hand off if he wasn't careful.

Now he knew what he wanted. He wanted to own and control a body where power ran below the skin. He wanted to throw himself against a lover strong enough to survive it. He had this raw need to mark and possess and demand and dominate. Xander lowered his mouth to Spike's neck and placed a gentle kiss on the smooth skin before he bit down with all his might, the sharp taste of metal like when he'd chewed aluminum foil making his jaw muscle feel almost a shivery cold as saliva rushed into his mouth.

Spike's whole body jerked, and Xander slapped a hip awkwardly, unable to get a good angle. "Face the bed," Xander ordered.

"Like facin' you more," Spike retaliated with a hand down the front of Xander's pants, fingers finding the sensitive cock's head.

"Childe," Xander did a fair imitation of a growl as he twisted as hard as he could on Spike's exposed nipple.

"Oi, that hurts," Spike howled as he backed away, rubbing the offended skin.

"I said face the bed. Stand at the end, and face it," Xander crossed his arms and allowed himself a very un-Xanderish smile, or rather a very vampire-Xanderish smile. Spike hesitated, but then turned and took the two steps to the end of the bed, facing it so that he was standing between the two iron poles that stood at the foot of the bed. Xander took his time as he walked around to the second rack and chose items. Spike watched carefully, but Xander ignored him as he picked up one item after another, fingering them carefully. Some he put back on the various racks, others he laid out on the messy sheets.

"Chain your ankles," Xander ordered as he tossed two manacles at Spike. Each had a wide iron cuff for a limb and then a small one that would fit perfectly around the iron pole. Spike caught them as they bounced off his chest, and Xander could see the need to submit warring with instincts that still told Spike to eat the human. Xander stood with his arms crossed, waiting. This could only end one way, but every second Spike hesitated would bring more punishment.

Spike finally took the chains, and locked them around his ankles before spreading his legs wide in order to chain himself to the poles.

"My hellcat," Xander whispered, walking around behind Spike and pressing himself into Spike, the childe's reward for obedience.

"Bloody neutered hellcat."

"Don't look neutered to me," Xander remarked as he slipped a hand around and cupped Spike's heavy balls. He rubbed the skin, feeling the curly hairs bristling against his fingers as Spike hissed his pleasure and dropped his head back onto Xander's shoulder. The sight of that neck arched out in submission left Xander's legs so unsteady and trembling that he just felt like he'd just outrun a troop of zombies the entire length of Sunnydale.

"Soddin' hell yeah," Spike breathed out.

"Plenty more like that, but first you have a debt to pay to your sire, yes?" Xander commented as he pulled back. Spike tried to push himself back into that retreating body until he nearly lost his balance. Unable to reach either pole to steady himself, he ended up bending over to brace himself on the bed.

"Such a lovely offer. I'll have to make sure to chain you more often, pretty one," Xander commented as the position gave him clear access to everything since Spike's legs remained chained open. Spike started pushing himself back up, but Xander reached out and ran the back of one knuckle over the skin behind Spike's balls and up to the puckered entrance. Xander circled the ridge, and Spike sighed and lowered his top half back down onto the bed. "So pretty and so submissive. You know I'm master, and your demon will learn," Xander promised.

He slid a finger inside Spike, the skin dry and warm with friction as he pushed in. Spike wiggled a little, going up onto his toes before he settled back down and pushed himself down the last inch or so until Xander's finger reached all the way up inside, the knuckles of his other fingers pressing into Spike's tender skin.

"Someone went to his grave a virgin," Xander chuckled as he felt the muscular ring tighten around even one finger.

"Not exactly one now, am I?" Spike answered, his words muffled by the bed as he lay with his head and chest against the mattress, his ass pushed high by the angle.

"No, my hellcat, you are most certainly not," Xander agreed as he bent his finger, finding the lumpy, slightly harder spot where the prostate pressed into the colon. He wiggled his finger over it, watching as Spike jerked, his leg muscles cording and straining against the chains.

"Bloody hell, bugger me already. Can't take this rot," Spike cursed as he grabbed fistful of dirty sheets. If Xander hadn't already written off the sheets as a complete loss, the sound of tearing fabric might have annoyed him.

"That is the point, childe. You will take what I give you. More than that, you will beg me. You won't beg me to end the teasing, you will beg me to fill you, to remind you of your place, you will beg for the right to suck my cock and sit at my feet." Xander could feel that body shiver even as Spike pushed himself partially up, Xander's hand on his back keeping him bent over even though Xander could feel the tightness increase around his finger.

"So you can turn me into a pet?" Spike snarled.

"So I can make you my childe as I promised I would. You will sit at my feet and terrify nations of demons," Xander promised, draping his own body over Spike's back. "Isn't that vhat I promised you? I value your strength enough to chain you and keep you. I vill make you strong again, and vhen we face…" Xander hesitated as the thought of that crossed his mind. He took a deep breath and ordered himself to stop thinking of all sorts of nasty, tricky, pus-filled and demonic possibilities down that path.

"When we face the solution to the chip problem, you will be my hellcat: no doubts, no hesitation, no rebellion." With each word, Xander pressed into Spike's prostate, feeling the body fight him even as Spike reached back desperately, grabbing his jeans and hanging on with one hand despite the awkward angle.

"Not goin' to be tossed aside again," Spike muttered as he let his second arm collapse so they both fell to the bed, Xander on top with a finger still up Spike's ass.

"Betray me, and I'll stake you myself," Xander promised seriously. "Show me the loyalty you have thrown away on fools, and you will sit at my feet as long as I sat at Nusa's." Xander pulled his finger out so quickly that he could feel the friction burn the skin and Spike growled lowly. "Annoy me, and I'll just torture you," Xander finished.

Spike didn't comment as Xander locked a manacle around each wrist; he simply watched with yellow eyes. Stepping up onto the bed, Xander took the right wrist manacle and pulled it up until Spike stood at the end of the bed again. Looping the leading chain through a hoop at the top of the pole, Xander used a simple clip to keep the chain as tight as possible. Xander repeated that on the second arm before hopping down. When he walked to behind Spike, he could see that the wrist chains were tight enough to leave Spike the choice between standing on his tip toes or letting all his weight dangle from his wrists. Soon enough both would become uncomfortable.

"Do you have any begging for me?" Xander asked as he trailed a finger down Spike's tight back. Spike shifted his feet as much as he could, which wasn't much, and remained silent. "You doubt I have the will," Xander guessed.

"Bloody hell, ya already went with the effin' mojo, think you've proved ya still are a bastard."

"Oh, but you think I don't know what you need. You need to know that I'm a ruthless bastard who will do what I have to do to get my way. It's our way, is it not?" Xander pointed out as he walked around to the bed. "You need to know that I want you enough to torture you into staying in your place. I made a mistake in that warehouse when I untied you, but to be honest, I hadn't had time to figure out exactly how the two parts of myself fit together yet. I understand much better now."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh definitely. Now I know that the correct response would have been to leave Angel chained up as I took you again and again, whipping your skin red until you pledged your allegiance and actually meant it. I have your obedience, but now I will force your allegiance."

"But you didn't do that, now did you. Little late to change history now."

"If Ethan's spell has taught me anything, it has taught me that it is never too late to change history," Xander pointed out with a laugh. He gathered a number of cool iron spheres from the bed, old-fashioned things with the marks of long-dead blacksmith's hammers forcing the iron into a ball shape. The globes rolled around in Xander's hand, three or four fitting in his palm. "I made a mistake, and now I'm fixing it. However, you have sinned, childe. Tell me your sins," Xander said as he walked over to a shelf and picked up the oil from the previous night. He carefully poured it into his palm with the iron orbs.

"You asked me to take you," Spike snapped, his voice now defensive.

"Oh, my hellcat, you didn't sin that night. You acted with far more control than I ever expected from such a young one. Barely a century and you gave up the chance to tear into a hot, virgin body. Such control. Such beautiful and deadly control," Xander corrected him as he came around to Spike's back, picking one oily ball from his hand and slowly working it into Spike's unguarded entrance. "That was one wrong guess, so shall we try again?" Xander asked, his finger slowly pushing the iron ball deeper into Spike's body as Spike writhed.

"Not good at guessing games, so why don't you just tell me," Spike snarled, but Xander could see the vampire's hips move in a short and jerky thrusting motion, the chains rattling as Spike pulled on them in frustrated need. The childe wanted to thrust, or be thrust into. Xander might not be able to bring himself to strip the skin from Spike's back the way Nusa had done to him after finding out about his first duel with a slayer, but that only meant he had to be more creative in his punishment.

"Refusing to guess is an incorrect answer," Xander said sadly as he took a second heavy ball and slowly worked it into Spike body. "Try again and you at least have a chance of being right. Think carefully, childe."

This time, Spike remained silent.

"Silence is also an incorrect answer. You will answer me when I ask you a question," Xander said as he worked the third iron sphere into Spike's body. "You will hold those or I will punish you beyond these little games," Xander warned before he pulled his fingers all the way out and left Spike to struggle to hold the balls in with his legs spread wide. As Xander walked around to the bed to retrieve more iron, he didn't miss the heavy cock, fully erect and starting to turn a dull red color. Spike might fight, but he seem to enjoy the fight.

"So, I ask again. What sins do you have to confess?" Xander repeated the oil treatment before he returned to Spike's backside. The oil made the heavy balls go in easier, but they also meant that Spike had to tighten his muscles more firmly in order to keep the balls from dropping out again. He slowly turned the metal sphere in his palm to make sure it had as much oil as possible.

"I killed people?" Spike asked, his voice confused as he cocked his head to one side.

"I am starting to think you want to be tortured," Xander commented as he worked a fourth ball in, pressing harder to get the previous bits of iron worked farther up the body. Xander could feel the moment one pressed into Spike's prostate as the lovely chained body twisted and fought the restraints. Spike panted heavily, a human habit Xander still found both curious and endearing. "You are a vampire, and while I don't condone killing, and I won't have you kill, I can't exactly call killing a sin for you. More like a disagreeable eating habit," Xander pointed out, pushing the iron up so far that his finger disappeared up to the second knuckle.

"Bloody fuckin' hell," Spike snarled as soon as he had enough breath to complain and not just pant.

"I am your sire. What sin have you committed since accepting your place in my line?" Xander demanded as he nipped the skin of Spike's shoulder where the muscle bulged out as the chain pulled the arm tight. Spike grew still.

"You can't expect—" Spike started, and Xander pulled his finger out and shoved a fifth sphere up so fast that Spike swallowed his words. This time Xander had to work at it to get the iron all the way up inside.

"I didn't come to you for help," Spike snapped out. "Shoulda crawled back and admitted I got my arse kicked by some thing with antlers who took Dru from me."

"You should have admitted your failure and taken your punishment," Xander agreed. Now he let his hand reach around and close around Spike's cock, the oil making his skin slide smoothly as he teasingly stroked.

"Didn't know you'd kept the Halloween upgrade, mate," Spike pointed out, but his breath came in shallow needy gasps.

"Vampires do not live alone. If you could not come to me, you should have gone to my line or even to Angel."

"Never soddin' turnin' to Peaches," Spike instantly snapped. Xander slowed his touches until Spike whined with need, forgetting his anger. Xander's mouth found Spike's ear, sucking and nipping as Spike's body struggled with the bonds. In order to stop the game before it began, Xander kept the thumb of his second hand up Spike's ass while he tickled the back of the Spike's cock and balls with his fingers. Soon enough Spike's mouth gaped open like a dying fish, his head fell back so that his Adam's apple stood out on the curve of his neck, and his hands opened and closed in time with Xander's slow, torturous strokes.

"You vill never have the chance to turn away from me again," Xander promised. "You will turn to me as the center of your universe. I am sire. I offer protection. I punish transgressions." Xander increased the pressure on his stokes, slipping his thumb over the now exposed slit at the end of the cock as Spike began trembling. Xander stopped. He stood, holding his childe's bound body and feeling the chest rise and fall with unnecessary breaths.

"So, your punishment is for thinking that at a mere one hundred you could stand alone. You're lucky a chip and not a stake found you. Lucky and strong," Xander corrected himself when Spike's breathing stopped a little too quickly. His hellcat carried scars from the Aurelius clan, and Xander intended to replace them with marks of his own. And his first order of business was to make sure Spike didn't ever feel weak, no matter what his idiotic clan had told him.

"So, you will endure your punishment without letting these balls drop," Xander said as he slowly pulled his thumb from Spike's body. "For each ball that drops, you shall either have to do something that truly pleases me, something you come up with on your own, or you will endure twenty-four hours chained like this so that I can admire this body I own," Xander stepped back, trailing an oily hand across Spike's hip as he walked diagonally across the large room to the bathroom tucked in the corner behind the television. He wouldn't damage a good whip with oily hands, and maybe he still had more than just a shadow of Nusa's childe in him since he still remembered his own sire's adamant insistence on caring for equipment.

When Xander saw himself in the mirror, his eyes dark with lust and his hair unruly and hanging in front of his eyes in waves, he froze in surprise for a second. For that instant he'd expected to see empty air, and Xander washed up quickly, avoiding the glass that reminded him both how much humanity he had and how much the shadow of his vampire self affected him.

Returning to the bed, Xander picked up a brown, leather whip, the long tails hanging straight and the wood handle worn smooth by handling. "A number, childe. And don't disappoint me," Xander added when Spike opened his mouth too quickly. Spike looked at him, shifting a bit as he worked back up onto his toes to take the strain off his shoulders.

"A hundred," Spike finally offered, his gaze focused on Xander. Xander nodded his approval as he considered the number. He would keep the first sets light enough that a hundred wouldn't damage his hellcat too much.

"And what is the rule vith the iron spheres?" Xander quizzed Spike.

"Five up there. Each one that falls means I need to do something to impress ya or go twenty-four hours strung up like a bloody Persian carpet," Spike answered.

"Not impress, childe. You never need to impress me. At a hundred you held a Hellmouth. You took your first slayer when you were so young you probably still smelled of your grave. You escaped the Initiative, an act only managed by three other demons in all of history. Childe, you have no need to impress me. For each sphere you let fall, you disappoint me, and that disappointment must be repaid with pleasure," Xander corrected him. Xander smiled as Spike's cock twitched in response, and Spike pushed himself up as far on his toes as he could.

"Count," Xander ordered. He brought the whip down sharply on the skin where ass and back met.

"Bloody fuck, one," Spike snapped, and Xander walked over and flipped on a light so that he could better appreciate the cobweb of red from the many tails of the whip. Xander waited until the heat of the hit had reached a peak before bringing the whip down in a series of lighter strikes that spread the heat from the shoulders down to the knees. Xander stopped and waited.

"Two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight," Spike immediately offered. Xander waited, watching the skin turn pink slowly before striking again, this time at Spike's ribs, making the ends of the whip twist around to his front and nip at his chest.

"Nine."

Another flurry along the legs, the edges of the whip tails dancing dangerously close to the vulnerable cock and balls, and Spike counted without complaint. Xander reached eighty before his shoulders started to ache so badly that switching hands no longer helped. He went to the kitchen to pull a beer out of the fridge, rolling his head on his shoulders as he considered the body still enduring silently.

Xander reached ninety three before a ball dropped, the heavy iron ringing against the concrete floor despite the area rug. Xander stopped and waited as he watched muscles strain as Spike fought to hold the rest.

"Childe?" Xander asked.

"Sire, can't hold 'em," Spike admitted, desperation coloring his voice. Xander closed the distance, tossing the whip on the bed as he slipped a thumb up into Spike, pushing to get the remaining four balls back up in place where Spike could hold them. Spike panted roughly, and Xander rested his head against a shoulder marked with red railroad tracks that connected every part of his backside.

"I'm pleased with you for admitting your need. You have held up well," Xander crooned as the breathing grew more uneven. "We aren't finished, but you can relax for now, my young one," Xander said as he wrapped his free arm around Spike, pulling the suffering body to his chest as he felt the body sag into him. For long minutes, Xander stood, holding Spike as the breathing became more regular and finally stopped.

"Right, let's finish this, 'cause I'm ready to get down. It's takin' too bloody long." Spike finally said.

"Only you would complain when spread-eagle and at the mercy of someone famous for having none," Xander said as he slowly pulled his thumb from Spike body. The iron spheres remained inside. Retrieving the whip, he finished the last seven hits, drawing blood only once he reached one hundred. Xander smiled with pleasure as he realized he could still wield the whip just as artfully, leaving a regular redness across Spike with individual trail criss-crossing from the harder strikes. Xander continued to feel pretty damn self satisfied until he went to toss the whip on the bed and his arms practically screamed with pain.

"Problem there, luv?" Spike's head still hung wearily, but he turned it slightly to the side to look at Xander while Xander rubbed his arms.

"Yeah, I need a hot shower to get the blood flowing again, and then I have to finish that translation," Xander answered as he looked at the few items remaining on the bed.

"Let me down, and I'll join ya in the shower, Spike suggested with a flip of his eyebrow despite the fact that his body hung limply, the single scored whip mark slightly oozing, and red trails winding down his arms from the manacles. Xander felt his stomach turn at the sight, but that didn't stop him from feeling a little satisfaction from removing some of the hesitation from Spike's voice.

"I somehow think I'll get more done alone," Xander said as he grabbed a wood and leather item. "Open up," Xander ordered. Spike's eyes went wide in either disbelief or anger, but at least this time he obeyed without hesitation. Xander slipped the thick wooden dowel into Spike's mouth and then buckled it in place, effectively gagging him.

"Oh, you do remember what happens if these fall out, right?" Xander asked as he slipped a finger up into Spike, pushing at the iron balls and feeling only a slight tremor when one pushed into the prostate. Xander could imagine that the nearly purple and rock-hard cock hurt Spike about as much as the whip marks. Spike gave a short nod.

"Right. Now that you aren't going to complain about boredom, I have to finish my work." Xander slapped Spike's hip sharply before heading for a cold shower because he really was a sick, sick boy. A sick, sick boy who wanted to still be hard in a couple of hours when he let Spike down. He just hoped that he had some Ben Gay left for his arms because they hurt like the last time he offered to spar with Buffy.

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