Tied Up and Twisted

Summary: Xander has had a bad day and needs to vent
Warning: This fic contains bondage, talk of S&M, torture, ect.


The mortal teenager known as Xander Harris had had a bad day. From rude customers at the pizza parlor to a rude slayer at Giles’ house, the brunette was feeling wholly overused and under appreciated.

As he slowly trudged to his basement, Xander began to rub the tense knots his neck muscles had worked themselves into. At that point all the boy wanted to do was try and get some sleep, but the blaring television and bleached British vampire lounging on his couch seemed detrimental to that plan.

“Spike!” Xander took a few deep breaths and tried to control his temper. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I haven’t gotten around to getting a new telly yet, and your’s is bigger then the Watchers.” Spike idly explained, his gaze remaining fixed on the screen.

“You broke into my house to watch television!?” Xander shook his head in disbelief. “Get out. Now.”


“Yes.” The mortal stomped his foot for emphases.

Spike looked faintly amused. “Aw, did someone not get his nappy time today?” The blonde asked in a condescending voice.

Xander ran his hands through his hair. Every single pressure he had had over the past few months seemed to descend upon him en mass. Tears of frustration and anger built up behind bright brown eyes and his voice cracked as he tried to reason with the vampire. “Spike, this is my room. I’ve had a really bad day, and all I want to do right now is try and forget every single aspect of my life. Please leave.”

Spike frowned and turned off the television. He walked over to Xander and put a hand on the teen’s shoulder, gently rubbing the hard muscles he found there. “You’ve had a really rough time of it, haven’t you pet?” He asked softly, a look of concern settling on his pale features.

The boy unconsciously leaned into the cool touch and nodded afraid to trust his voice after such an unanticipated act of kindness.

Spike leaned closer, his eyes fixed firmly on Xander’s. “It must be really horrible to know no one gives a fuck about you.” The vampire’s mouth quirked slightly. “In fact, the best thing you could do for all involved, is find yourself a piece of rope, make a noose, and end this pathetic, sniveling existence you laughingly call your life.” Spike turned away, immensely satisfied with the stricken look he had helped put on the younger man’s face.

Xander couldn’t stop the tremor of rage and hurt that swept through his body. It was all just too much for the mortal. His fingers itched to express the pain and humiliation that had been building steadily for several months. With a ragged sigh Xander once again suppressed those feelings, those urges. He absolutely refused to knowingly hurt a living, breathing, human. . . but. . .

An unpleasant smile emerged on Xander’s face as he picked up a large wrench from the work bench. “I think they’re going to be some changes around here.” He said as he raised the heavy metal tool above the back of Spike’s bleached blonde head.


Spike moaned at the dull ache radiating from his skull. The vampire’s thought process was sluggish as his brain slowly repaired itself, but from what did manage to seep through to his consciousness, he realized that something had caved in the back of his head.

As more neural pathways rebuilt themselves the vampire noticed some new irregularities in his surroundings. He was still in Xander’s basement, but now he was laying on the boy’s bed. . . spread eagle. . . naked. . . and unable to move.

It took a few minutes for Spike to understand that his lack of mobility wasn’t due to any injury, but to the restraints snugly fitted around his wrists and ankles. As he began to cautiously test his bonds, the vampire noticed something else that was more then a bit disconcerting. Instead of it’s usual cotton sheets, Xander’s bed was covered by a large, plastic tarp.

While physically his head was almost completely healed, Spike’s mind couldn’t quite grasp what had happened to him, the obvious answer being so farfetched. Keeping his head as still as possible, the vampire began to pull at his bonds.

“Won’t do any good.” Xander’s voice came from his left. “The straps are a nylon/steel weave. They’ve been vamp tested. You're not going anywhere.”

Spike could hear the truth in the boy’s voice and ceased his struggles. “Mind telling me WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS G. . .”

Xander’s hand pressed hard against Spike’s mouth. “Shhhhh.” The boy admonished. “I’d really rather not have to gag you, but I will.” He pulled back and began rummaging through something on the floor beside him.

Spike strained to try and see what the mortal was doing. “What’s the matter, afraid of what Mummy or Daddy would say about a NAKED MAN TIED TO. . .”

Xander’s hand clamped down again. “Well, that would be a concern, if they weren’t in Fresno visiting my grandparents. The truth of the matter is you could yell as loud as you want and no one would ever hear you, but it annoys me, so do it again and I’ll cut your tongue out. ‘Kay?”

A mute nod was the vampire’s only response. Spike watched as Xander pawed through a large box sitting next to the bed. The wheels in his bleached head were spinning madly, trying to find an opening out of the insipid little game the human was trying to play. Spike almost wanted to laugh at the whelp’s weak attempt to frighten him. He had actually been waiting for the teenager to make some attempt at dominance, and while the fact that Xander had stripped him was a bit unexpected, Spike knew that the results from the verbal torment he would soon inflict on the boy would be even sweeter considering his seemingly subservient position. The vampire smothered a grin as he realized his lack of clothing would make a good starting point to attack the insecure teenager’s sexuality. The confidence in his ultimate control of the situation was clear as Spike finally spoke. “What exactly is going on here?”

Xander glanced at him. “Kinda obvious, isn’t it?”

Spike smirked. ”I’ve found that bondage has gotten passe over the years, but the drop cloth - that’s downright kinky.”

“Yeah, well the back of your head was really gross. I didn’t want to get any gray matter on my pillow.” Xander shrugged. “‘Sides, the clean-up’s much easier this way. I just hate doing laundry.” He held up a thick piece of wood for the vampire’s inspection. Spike’s eyes unwittingly focused on the wickedly sharp point. “What do you think, should we start with the stake, or move our way up to it?”

“You don’t want to stake me, pet” Spike said patronizingly.

“I don’t?” Xander scratched his head. “No, you’re right. It would suck having to drag the vacuum down here.”

Spike gave the boy a smug look. “No. I mean, the Slayer wouldn’t be too pleased to know I was killed without her authorization.”

Xander shrugged. “I could always tell her it was self defense.”

“Self defense!” Spike looked unbelievingly at the human. “You bloody git, everybody knows I can’t lift a finger against a living creature.”

Xander’s eyes widened. “You’re right. Gosh, I don’t know what I’ll do.” The mortal pensively chewed his lower lip. “Wait, I’ve got it! I’ll just give them one of the ‘I’m stupider then dirt’ looks that my friends are so fond of seeing on my face.” The boy’s grin disappeared only to be replaced with a look of pure remorse. “Gee Giles, when Spike came after me I forgot all about the chip in his head. I’m so dumb.” He gave the vampire an exaggerated pout.

Spike snorted. “They’ll never buy that.”

“They haven’t doubted it yet.”

The blonde groaned as he caught sight of an all too familiar glint in the chocolate brown eyes of his captor. “Bloody hell, you’re fucking loopy.” A sinking feeling tore at Spike’s gut as he realized that he wasn’t dealing with a posturing teenage male, but a mental wild card. The vampire desperately wished that he had known of the Xander’s precarious hold on sanity beforehand. After all, the vampire could have made due with the Watcher’s television.

“I’m not *loopy*.” Xander said defensively. “I’m just stressed. Ever since Angel moved to L.A. I haven’t had anyone to play with.”

“Play?” Spike’s brain latched on to the seemingly innocent word. Then, it processed a bit more. “Wait, Angel!?”

Xander ignored the disbelief in the older man’s voice. “Do you like the restraints? He got them for me.”

“Angel!? My soul-having, gel-using, poof of a sire - *that* Angel!?”

“Yep. Deadboy took me to this. . . interesting store over on Maple Avenue for my birthday last year. He let me pick out anything I wanted.” A soft smile came to Xander’s face as he remembered that special evening, and the screams that followed later that night.

“See, everyone has a different way to deal with stress, Spike. Some people golf, others knit, I, personally, lean toward the whole torture thing. It’s certainly helped my rage issues, I’m a much more stable person now. . . Or, at least I was. See, that’s why I’ve been so out of it lately. With Deadboy gone, I haven’t had anyone to vent on.” He ran a finger along Spike’s cheekbone. “Til now.”

“Hey! I refuse to be your literal whipping boy.”

“First of all, you’re not in much of a position to do anything ‘cept beg. . . and maybe scream.” Xander’s eyes twinkled with anticipation. “And, secondly, I’m not going to use a whip. They’re just so. . . mundane, don't you think?”

Spike stared at the teenager, wondering if he was supposed to answer.

“Whips are for humans.” The mortal looked at the vampire with something close to fondness. “Don’t worry, I know what things like you deserve. I did have a good teacher, after all.”

“Angel.” Spike’s throat was uncommonly dry as he comprehended the skills his Sire’s student was likely to possess.

An almost tender smile stole across Xander’s face. “He came to me, not long after I sent Faith to kill him. He said he wanted me to hurt him.” The boy ruefully shook his head. “I was thinking it was some kind of trick. You know, I punch him and he has a legitimate excuse to kick my ass. So, I told him to fuck himself and started to walk away, but he grabbed me. He said I didn’t understand, he said he wanted me to *punish* him.”

“See, all those centuries Angel spent in Hell kinda got him addicted to pain. He craved it, and for some strange reason he decided that I was the only person he trusted enough to give it to him. Well, maybe not that strange. . .” Xander amended. “I mean, could you imagine little miss whitebread Buffy going after Angel’s backside with a riding crop?”

Spike numbly shook his head.

“Yeah, me neither.” Xander grinned at the though, then licked his lips and leaned closer to the vampire. “You know, no matter what I did to Angel, no matter how much I hurt him, I always made sure he got off” Spike felt the mortal’s hot breath tickle it’s way across his chest. “This could be a symbiotic relationship.”

“Sod off.”

“Spike.” The boy’s voice had dropped to a soft, seductive purr. “I know what vampires like. . . what they want. . . what you want.”

“If you’re such a demonsend to the undead libido why did Angel leave you?” Spike inwardly crowed at the look of pain that crossed over the boy’s face. His triumph was short lived, however, as he recognized the look in the boy’s eyes.

Unadulterated rage bubbled beneath the brown orbs. Spike didn’t fear the rage itself, but the cold, calculating way the human held it in check, made the blonde’s borrowed blood ice over. In that instant, in those limpid brown pools, he saw Angelus.

Xander’s face was blank as he reached into the box, and began laying various implements out on the bed beside the vampire’s bare leg. The box of toothpicks made the undead man flinch.

“You’re really gonna hurt me, aren’t you?” There was an almost imperceptible tremble in Spike’s voice.

“I’m gonna make you scream.” Xander said, carefully inspecting a rather wicked looking knife. “Now, some of it will be in pleasure, most of it will be in pain, but after a while those lines tend to blur, don’t ya think?”

Spike didn’t answer. He simple closed his eyes and waited for the ordeal to begin.


Angel had taught the boy well.

The thought kept resurfacing through the red haze in Spike’s mind, that and a conversation the younger vampire had had with Angelus about a month prior to the Acathla debacle.

Spike had taunted his Sire’s inability to kill what the younger vampire thought was the weakest link in the Slayer’s circle - the boy Xander.

Angelus had given his childe the most condescending of smiles and a pat on the head. “You’ll see.” He had said. “You’ll see.”

If Spike had known how prophetic those words would be, and the meaning behind them, he would have broken the little bastard’s neck when he had the chance.

But he had never bothered killing the whelp, and had certainly never even thought of looking for the potential Angelus had so easily seen. Of course, that potential was glaringly obvious now.

Xander’s hands were skilled and the boy’s every touch brought a new sensation to the vampire’s cold flesh. Pain and pleasure mingled freely over the body and much to Spike’s chagrin, he found himself loving the unique form of torture. Every once and a while a soft whimper would escape from the fanged countenance.

The mortal say back on his haunches and with a critical eye, he surveyed his work. Spike’s pale flesh was beautifully marred. His eyes landed on the vampire’s cock, hard and throbbing, though completely untouched by any of the night’s activities. Xander launguidly stretched feeling none of the tension that had plagued him for so long. Spike had helped him in his own fashion, and the boy decided it was time for his reward.

The vampire tensed as the mortal’s hand wrapped around his erection. Xander ignored this and began stroking the heated flesh. “It’s all right.” He cooed. “You can come now.”

The vampire obeyed and a guttural howl signaled his release. Stars exploded behind his yellow eyes, then, Spike whimpered and slipped into sweet oblivion.


As the vampire slowly eased himself back into consciousness, for the second time that night, he was pleasantly surprised to find himself both existing in a non-dust capacity, and free.

He gingerly sat up and watched with detached interest as Xander put away his various toys. “You didn’t kill me?”

The mortal gave him an honest smile. “Why would I kill you?”

“To keep me quiet?” Spike’s tone was almost subdued as he reached for the neatly folded clothes Xander offered him.

“Quiet?” Xander frowned. “Oh, you mean about this?”

“Yeah, about this.” Spike sneered, as he pulled on his jeans. “I don’t think your little Scooby Gang would approve of your hobby. Oh, and I’m sure the Slayer would be interested in hearing about all the things you’ve done to her precious Angel.”

The teenager shrugged. “Go ahead. Tell them all about it. . . just make sure you’re prepared for when they laugh their assess off.” He sighed. “Come on Fangboy, who do you think they’re going to believe, the ‘I’m still evil and I hate you all’ vampire, or poor, hapless Xander?”

Spike stared at him for a moment, the muscles along his jaw tightened as he realized the mortal was right. Mustering enough dignity to get him out of the basement, Spike silently walked towards the door.

“Friday’s are usually bad for me at work.” Xander announced to the vampire’s back. “I get off at midnight.”

Spike froze. He could sense the triumphing smirk on the younger man’s face. “I’ll be here.” The vampire mumbled before stealing out into the darkness.


Crazy Life
Summary: Xander thinks about his insanity
Date: April 13, 2000


Spike’s passed out again. I really have to remember to be more careful with him, he’s not as resilient as Angel. . . but, he’s something. . . something more then I had two weeks ago.

I can’t believe how close I had come to self destructing, when Spike was right there the entire time. I also can’t believe I didn’t think of using him sooner. I mean, I’ve had the sex part covered, Anya is good for something after all, but for the actual torture part, Spike was the obvious choice. He’s not perfect. He’s not Angel, but. . .

I think Bleach-head has finally learned not to say his name around me anymore. Tough lesson. . . for him at least.

I can admit it, Deadboy is still a. . . sore spot for me. He will probably be that way for a while. Not even Spike knows the extent of what happened between the two of us. Hell, Angel and I had no fucking idea, why should anybody else?

The one thing I do know, is that he needed me. Of all the people Angel’s life, I was the one he turned to.

Angel knew about me. I’m not sure how, but he knew. He saw through everything, all the masks and walls and other metaphors that I had built up over eighteen years to deal with the hell that is my life. He found what was festering inside me, the real me, and he embraced it.

Angel was my teacher. He showed me how to harness all the anger that constantly boiled inside, and to direct that rage onto his body.

He was so patient with my innocence, and in turn, my ignorance. I remember the first time he pressed a knife into my hand. His flesh was so smooth, so perfect. It felt almost sacrilegious, being told to mar that beauty. . . but. . . I did it anyway.

The blade was very sharp, all it took was a little pressure, and the edge of the steel slid into his skin. I kept it there for a moment. I was fascinated by the concept that I was slicing into Angel’s chest, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the the thin rivulet of blood that lazily trickled down the muscles of his abdomen.

I had always thought that Angel was attractive, but that night I wanted. . . no, I *needed* to possess him. . . and I did, the only way that I could.

I owned him through the pain, and the blood, and the skin and the screams. I made him mine.

Oh God, the look on his face, the complete relief that shined through him.

Angel was the only one who really understood me. The only one who really even bothered to try.

Oh, I know what you’ll say - “What about your friends?”

My friends.

Let’s look at *my* friends, shall we?

The only one who would come close to accepting this part of me would be Giles, but even he wouldn’t get it entirely. Maybe when he was younger. . .

Oh, and Oz, he probably could have helped. Too bad Willow didn’t give him a longer leash.

Buffy doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me, never has, never will. . . which made my previous obsession with her all the more pathetic. Wait, I can’t really say that she’s never cared, because she has. . . whenever it’s a situation that directly affects her.

And, it’s not that I’m even really pissed about that. I mean, I get it, she’s the Slayer. If there is anyone in this world that has the right to be a self-absorbed, arrogant, whiny little bitch - it’s Buffy. It’s kind of a shitty deal for her friends, but I’ve learned to live with it. . . Huh, I guess I’m still pathetic where she’s concerned.

Moving on, we come to Willow. The two of us have know each other since kindergarten. I bet she thinks she knows every part of me, every nuance of my personality. She doesn’t know shit. All Willow ever knew, all she wanted to know, was *her* version of me. *That* was who she fell in love with. *That* was why I never took advantage of her back when I was marginally sane.

I’m not stupid. I know people like to believe that I am, it makes them feel better about themselves. I know Willow and Buffy think they’re superior. All that time we spent at the Bronze with the two of them laughing over some joke they thought was beyond my comprehension. Sometimes I wanted to hurt them so bad.

Yeah right, this from a guy who has a moral crisis whenever he has to squish a spider.

So, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t say anything. I just let the two of them and the rest of the population at Sunnydale high abuse me. If it hadn’t been for Angel, I would have killed myself.

I needed him, just as much as he needed me.

But, did he care? No, not in the end.

Oh, he pretended to care, in that completely average, PC, non-touchy feely, twelve stepy kind of way that dumpers do.

He said he was sorry. Isn’t that sweet? He apologized profusely for. . . lets see, how did he put it. . . oh yes, dragging me into his world of darkness.

My, isn’t he the thoughtful little martyr?

Then, he tells me how handsome I am, and how smart I am, and how - this one’s really good - how I deserve so much better then him.

You know, if he had said that in the begining, I wouldn’t have even started torturing him. . . okay, maybe I would have, but just on general principals.

Not that that matters now. Nothing about him matters now.

He left me.

I possessed him and he left me.

That’s not right. You don’t do that, you don't just walk away from something like this.

Oh, looky. Spike’s conscious again, and staring at me. I think I scare him.

That’s good.

Sometimes I scare me too.

Bare Bones
Summary: Angel finds out about Xander’s new toy
Date: April 25, 2000  
Dedication: This whole series - all Criss’ fault... bad seed ;P


Angel had tried everything he could think of - pointed sighs, insolent sighs, broody sighs, indignant sighs - but nothing had worked, the conversation was still going on, and from all signs it would continue for quite some time. What annoyed the vampire the most was the fact he wasn’t even one of the parties on the phone.

“No! Really?! They didn’t?! Oh my God!!!!” Cordelia blabbed happily.

Angel aimed a glare toward his supposed secretary, who, obvious to everything but the receiver attached to her ear, heedlessly chattered on. With a look closely resembling a pout, the vampre finally gave up and retreated into his inner office where Wesley had already taken quiet sanctuary.

For several minutes the men simply read and enjoyed a peaceable repose, until there was a loud “OH MY GOD!!” followed by approximately thirty seconds of silence. Angel and Wesley prepared themselves for the storm that would follow the calm.

The door to the inner office suddenly swung open to reveal Cordelia. “My world has just been tipped on it’s edge!” She announced with a poignant cry.

Angel regarded her dryly. “Uh huh. Cordelia, do you think that maybe you could take your personal calls somewhere more. . . well, personal?”

“That was Aura.” The brunette said, curtly ignoring her boss. “You guys will never believe what she just told me.”

“I seriously don’t think either Wesley or I would be concerned with the gossip from Sunnydale.”

“Fine.” The aspiring actress settled herself in a chair. “I just thought you might want to know what your errant offspring was doing?”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Errant offspring?”

“The bleached, British variety.”

Angel grimaced at the thought of his childe. “Giles said that Spike’s been effectively neutralized, his actions don’t concern me anymore.”

“Okay, then what about *who* he’s doing?”

“I honestly couldn’t care less.” Was the vampire’s truthful response.

Cordelia crossed her arms. “Well, I do and I need to express my outrage to someone.”

Wesley decided to intervene. “Delia, why exactly would you be outraged at. . . er, Spike’s romantic entanglements?”

“Because he was entangled with my ex-boyfriend!” She exclaimed. “Not that I care what Xander Harris does anymore, but still . . . Spike’s a vampire, I mean - ew. . . no offense.” She added quickly, after remembering who signed her paychecks.

“Xander and a vampire!” Wesley snorted. “That’s a bit hard to swallow. The boy detests those creatures. . . uh, no offense.” He gave Angel a sheepish look before turning back to Cordelia. “Perhaps your friend was mistaken?”

“First of all, don’t use the word swallow, and secondly, Aura swears she saw them getting all smoochy with each other last night.”

Wesley grimaced and adjusted his glasses. “But still. . . “

As always Cordelia finished with a grand flourish. “Did I mention her dialogue on the tongue action?”

“That’s enough.” Angel stood up abruptly, almost knocking over the chair in his haste. “Cordelia, I don’t know what you expect to gain from harping on this, but I am not going to listen to it! Now, there’s something I need to do. . . downstairs. Alone.” He swiftly walked over to the elevator, and violently closed the grate. “No disturbances!” He growled out to his shocked employees.

With confusion etched on their faces the two mortals stared at Angel’s broody countenance until it dropped from sight.

“What the hell was that about!?” Cordelia exclaimed in a huff. “Somebody not get his daily dose of Prozac in his blood?”

Wesley thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “Perhaps Angel does care.”


“Yes, about Spike. Some vampire relationships are very complex.” The ex-Watcher said knowingly. “And if I remember my chronicles correctly, this Spike, was more then Angel’s childe, he was Angel’s protege. I’m sure he and Angel must have. . .”

“Okay!” Cordelia held up a hand. “I really don’t need to know what the two of them must have done back in the olden day. I want to continue to be able to look Angel in the eye when he gives me my paycheck.” She rose and moved back into the outer office.

“But still,” Wesley said as he followed her. “It might be trying for Angel if Spike is indeed involved with another man, especially a mortal who’s so . . .”

“Dorky? Lame? Loser-ish? Pathetic?”

“I was going to say antagonistic.”

“Right.” Cordelia nodded. “That too.” She thought for a moment, then grinned wickedly. “So, you think Angel’ll kick his ass?”





The sounds of Angel’s fists connecting with his workout bag reverberated throughout the apartment. Each punch was solid, and backed with rage the vampire hadn’t known since he was resouled.

Angel logically knew that his anger was unjustified, after all he had been the one to leave. It was only natural that Xander find someone else. In fact, it’s exactly what Angel had wanted - for the boy to move on.

“But not to Spike.” Angel hissed, and delivered one last blow that snapped the chain and sent the bag flying across the room.

He stood there for a moment, shaking in seething silence. This was not how it was meant to be.

Angel still felt like greeting sunrise every time he thought of how he had started the situation. He should have never involved a human, and certainly not one as fragile and dependent as Xander, but his judgment wasn’t exactly stellar so soon after his ordeal in hell. What phrase had Cordelia used the other day? The wheel was spinning but the hamster had left the building.

And, when Angel had realized what he had done he should have ended it then and there, let the boy down gently but firmly, before either of them fell any deeper. The vampire had tried, but couldn’t. Evidently the pain wasn’t the only thing he was addicted too.

He had spent many hours musing over the softness of Xander’s hair, the unique scent of the boy, and the gentle way he would wrap wounds he had so recently inflicted. Angel had become dependent, complacent, and entirely enthralled, until his conscious got the better of him. . . until the guilt claimed him again.

So he broke it off. He left Sunnydale and never looked back, at least not physically, but in his mind’s eye he visited the mansion often, reveling in the memories. . . the memories which were now tainted. Angel couldn’t see himself there anymore, only Spike. . . with Xander. . . touching him. . .

The elder vampire slowly sank to the floor. His legs giving way under the treacherous subconscious assault. Of all the possible scenarios Angel had thought of for Xander’s future, his being replaced wasn’t among them, and he didn’t like it. . . he didn’t like it one bit.


Shades and Shadows
Summary: Spike’s POV on his situation  
Date: May 5, 2000  


Life is a funny thing.

Yes, it’s fucking hilarious when you get down to it.

Something just sort of hit me, all of a sudden like. . . one of those - “Huh.” kind of revelations.

Here I am, lurking about like an actual vampire, watching the Slayer’s little group from across the club, and I realized that this was how this whole thing started. Not the chip thing, but my little. . . whatever-you-want-to-call-it with the Slayer. You know, every single instinct I had told me to leave, told me to pack up Dru and head some place that wasn’t here.

Of course I didn’t listen. Oh no. I was Spike! William the fucking Bloody! I wasn’t going to run, not from any Slayer, and certainly not from the sense of incredible trepidation radiating out from my gut.

No. Not me.

My pride’s always been my downfall. All I have to do is look at any kicking of my ass and it’s always been a direct result of my bloody pride. You’d think that after twelve decades I would have grown up a bit. . . ah well.

This is also the first place I saw him. Him. For some reason I can’t call Xander a whelp anymore. Or a boy, for that matter. Hmmm, might have something to do with the blinding pain he inflicts on such a regular basis.

I can’t help wondering what I would have done had I known, you know, about what Xander was going to become, what he was going to end up doing to me.

I have these fantasies about the time the Poof brought him to me that night in the school, or the time I took him and the witch to the warehouse. What bothers me to no end is that even in my dreams I never manage to end his life. Oh, I’d rape him, and torture him, and eventually kill him in the most painful way possible. . . but every time I imagine the light fading from his eyes, I also imagine my blood in his mouth.

It’s quite disturbing, actually. . . and not just the thought that I would want Xander Harris around for an eternity either.

I’ve never made a childe. Never. Didn’t care for the responsibility, the commitment, attached to such a process, but. . . if I had known this version of the future, I would have taken that step with Xander. . . which I’m fairly certain puts me in the same whackadoodle category as Dru. I mean, I must be insane. That’s the only logical explanation for it. . . but. . . gods below, he would make such a good vampire.

He would make me proud.

I wonder if he has any idea of what I would do to him if I ever got this bloody thing out of my head? I wonder if he fantasizes about that?

He was right when he said it would be a symbiotic relationship though. The boy’s changing, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s for the better. Like how he acts around the Slayer and her innocuous little groupies. I love the look he gets on his face, the barely disguised expression of disgust that blossoms when he spends too much time with them. It’s on his face now. The witch is droning on about something, and I can tell that my poor Xan is bored out of his pretty skull.

He won’t say anything though. No, he’s too smart for that. Why on earth would he want to ruin his bumbling moron image?

I asked him about that once, why he keeps up the facade, and do you know what he said? “Nobody pays attention to idiots, Spike, and you wouldn’t believe what people can get away with when they move under the radar.”

Yeah, I was pretty impressed by that reasoning.

It’s still a little hard to believe that the Slayer hasn’t picked up on anything though. Is she really so unaware of one of her friends that she can’t see how he scans the crowd like a predator?

I wonder if he’s looking for me?

He’s getting a bit restless now. I can see him squirming in his seat. I bet he’s thinking about what he’s going to do to me later, and. . . he’s spotted me.

He’s looking right at me. Those lovely eyes of his narrow in contemplation, and like one of Pavlov’s fucking mutts, my cock starts to harden.

He’s smiling at me, not one of those great, shiteater grins, but this small, coy little twist of his lips. He makes my insides do funny things and he hasn’t even started poking around in them yet.

He gets up, starts to take his leave, and I head out the back. Xander likes me all ready and waiting for him, and I like things that Xander likes.

Yeah, life’s a funny thing.


Summary: Angel returns to Sunnydale
Date: May 15, 2000


For what seemed like the thousandth time in the past half hour, Angel regretted his decision to return to the seemingly peaceful town of Sunnydale. Doubts plagued his mind, yet, he made no move to leave his post. The dark vampire remained in the shadows, silently watching the entrance to the Bronze. From his spot Angel systematically observed, then dismissed every young, dark haired male that entered his field of vision. Part of him was glad he hadn’t yet spotted his. . . what? Former lover? Former master? Neither word truly gave justice to the strange relationship he and Xander had forged.

Angel had spent the entire drive agonizing over what he would say when he saw the mortal, and regardless of any apprehensions, he was determined to at least talk to the boy. . . even if he still wasn’t positive what that talk would be about. He was flying blind into a potentially explosive situation, and all Angel was really sure of was that he needed to convince Xander to stop this. . . whatever it was, that the boy had with Spike.

A low growl worked it’s way out of the vampire’s chest at the mere thought of the blonde receiving his Xander’s attentions. It simply wasn’t right. The fact that Spike couldn’t physically harm the boy did nothing to alleviate Angel’s stress over the matter. Ever since Cordelia’s ‘announcement’ three days prior, Angel’s imagination had been working overtime. Whenever the vampire closed his eyes, he was bombarded with images of Xander and Spike. It was not a pleasant situation for him. . . and it was about to get worse.

Angel suddenly tensed, as his nostrils picked up a familiar scent. He rolled his eyes to the side and found, as Cordelia put it, his “errant offspring” sneering at him.

“Well, if it isn’t Angel-Poof. Here to work on your lurking skills? They’ve gone downhill, you know.”

“Spike.” The elder almost spit out the name. “Just the neutered, jackass I was looking for.”

“Really? You were looking for me?” The blonde scratched his head. “Cause I would have thought you’d be wanting to see your. . . oops, I mean *my* little Xander.”

“Why do I not think that Xander knows about that title you’ve bestowed on him?” Angel frowned in mock concentration. “Hmm, maybe, it’s because you still have all your fingers.”

“Oh, he’d never cut anything off, Poof. Xander likes what I do with my various appendages.”

A growl came from low in Angel’s throat. “Watch your mouth, Will.”

“Or what?” Spike laughed. “Your threats have gone downhill too. Anyway, now that this little Sire/childe moment is over, I suggest you get your gel using ass out of town.”

Angel practically oozed menace. “And why should I do that?”

Spike’s eyes were glacial. “Because, I’m willing to bet that Xan hasn’t seen you yet, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Why?” As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Angel froze. Another scent had entered the ally, and this one came with a heartbeat.

“Probably because he wants to protect my feelings.” Xander shrugged. “I know, it’s a foreign concept. . . oh, and you do need work on your lurking skills.”

Any speeches that Angel may have planned immediately dissipated as the vampire once again came face to face with his obsession. “Xander. . .”

The human gave him a dispassionate look. “Is Buffy in danger?”

Angel’s eyes dropped to his feet, as he remembered his inexcusable behavior at Thanksgiving. “No.”

Xander nodded curtly. “There some big, giant evil looming on the horizon?”


“Then why are you here?”

“You know why.” Angel looked entreatingly at the boy.

“No, actually I don’t.” Xander frowned. “It’s obviously not about Spike and me, since the last time you and I really talked, you told me that you wanted me to meet someone better then you.”

“Xander. . .”

“Don’t.” The mortal held up a hand. “I don’t know what you want, but. . .”

“I want you to choose.”

“Excuse me?”

“Choose. Me, or Spike.”

“I already did.” The boy’s tone was cold as ice.

Angel was adamant. “I want to hear you say it.”

Xander contemplated the Sire and chide for a few moments, before looking Angel straight in the eye and giving his answer. “I choose Spike.”

The blonde gave his Sire a smug look. “Well, Peaches, it was simply awful seeing you again. Drive recklessly.”

Angel shook his head. “I don’t accept that.” He said to the boy.

“You never were a graceful loser, were you?” Spike sneered.

“I haven’t lost.”

“Look, you told me to choose, and I did.” Xander let out a bored sigh. “Go back to your new life, Angel. You’re not wanted here.”

“You’re lying. What, you think I can’t see the need. . . smell the hunger inside of you?” The dark haired vampire smiled at Xander’s reaction. “Do you honestly believe that I can’t tell how you ache? Spike doesn't sate all your cravings, does he, Xander. He can’t, because he’s not me.” Angel’s voice dropped and he could almost swear he could see inside the young mortal. A once happy and vibrant soul, tattered and worn by years of abuse, seemed to flutter behind Xander’s weary eyes. “I am very much *wanted* here.”

“You know, you’re kinda right.” The mortal scowled. “Spike lacks a lot of things. . . but he does have something that you don’t.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“Loyalty.” The boy’s voice was tense.

“He’d kill you in an instant if he could.” Angel snorted, hoping he successfully kept the grimace those words produced, off his face.

“No, he wouldn’t.” Xander smirked at the blonde. “I’d imagine he’d make sure my death was as slow and painful as possible. . . but, he’d never leave me.” The boy’s eyes turned hard as he focused on Angel again. “He would never spout some drivel about what was best for me and then disappear.”

Xander folded his arms across his chest. “Why don’t you admit why you really came back? You didn’t think you could fool me, did you? I know you, Angel, inside and out. . . literally. It’s eating away at you, isn’t it? Not what I’m doing, but who I’m doing it with. Admit it.”

Angel snorted. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do, Xander.”


“Yes, really.” Brown eyes flashed gold, then narrowed. “You never owned me, I owned you. . . in fact, I still do.” Angel moved closer to the mortal. “I made you so thoroughly mine that you couldn’t function without me, and . . . you don’t know how much I regret that you ever should have had to try.”

“You regret? Regret?” Xander’s dark eyes glittered. “Do you have any idea what I went through after you left? Do you?” The boy took a deep breath, pushing the grief and anger back inside, returning his features to a perfectly blank mask. “Maybe you did own me, you sure as hell made me. . . but, as far as I’m concerned, any rights you may have had are forfeit.”

“No.” Angel shook his head. “That’s not your decision to make.”

Xander’s eyes flashed. “Spike, do me a favor?”

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “What’s that pet?”

The boy smiled sweetly. “Beat the shit out of your Sire.”

Spike’s demon howled in unadulterated joy at this command, and he leapt onto the other vampire. Angel grunted as the blonde’s fists connected with his face. A second later his own demon surfaced, unremittingly furious at his childe’s arrogant attack. With a roar, Angel headbutted the younger vampire. Spike stumbled backwards and his Sire pressed the advantage.

Xander watched the melee with undisguised elation. . . of course, he always felt good when a plan came together so perfectly. Angel was gaining the upper hand, just as the mortal knew he would. Xander narrowed his eyes, and waited for an opening for him to make his move. Timing was everything, of course. If he spoke out too soon it would ruin the mood, but if he waited too long. . . well, he could always give Bleachboy a nice home in an ant farm.

Angel delivered a sharp kick to his childe’s midsection, before grabbing the blonde’s throat. Strong fingers pressed vengefully into tender flesh as Spike was lifted off the ground. Angel, using his weight advantage, slammed them both into the pavement, making sure the younger vampire’s body took the brunt of the punishment.

Xander winced in sympathy as he heard the sharp crack of bones. He watched as Angel straddled Spike’s inanimate body. The elder vampire reached under his coat, pulled out a stake, and positioned it over his childe’s unbeating heart.


Angel’s head flew up at the sound of Xander’s voice. His golden eyes locked with the boy’s brown ones. “Why not?” He hissed.

Xander calmly walked to the struggling bodies and crouched down beside them, his gaze never faltering from Angel’s . “Do you really think that killing the man I chose over you will get you back into my good graces? In case you’re wondering - it won’t. Dusting Spike is only gonna piss me off. . . even more then I already am.”

Angel’s eyes dropped to the blonde beneath him as he contemplated Xander’s words. “Remind me why that should matter?”

The boy inched closer. “How do you plan on getting me to do what you want? Huh? What’re you gonna do, *Soulboy*? Keep me locked in a room? Chain me to a wall? Beat me til I submit? We both know that’s not gonna happen.”

Angel knew that Xander was right. There was no way he could do that, not to a human, and certainly not to Xander. Angel also understood that if the next few minutes didn’t go well, hope for any kind of a reconciliation was gone. As the stress of the situation pressed down on the elder vampire, his control faltered. “I just. . . I want you. . . what we had. . . what you did to me. . . I want it back.”

Xander nodded, and Angel swore he saw something glimmer in those rich brown eyes, perhaps. . . hope? “Then I propose a deal.”

“Go on.” Golden eyes narrowed.

The mortal licked his lips. “I get Spike, and you get me.”

Angel looked at him incredulously. “And I agree to this, because?”

“Because that’s the only way this is ever gonna happen, and. . . “ Xander’s voice cracked. “I need it to happen. My life is stagnant. I can feel this town, these people, pressing down on me. I’m suffocating, Angel.” Xander was helpless against the tears of pain that rolled down his cheeks. “Help me again? You did it once. You made all the hurt inside go away. Please, I just. . .”

Angel gathered the sobbing mortal into his arms, and began to gently rock the boy. He growled as Spike, who had been keeping a wary eye on his Sire, began to rub Xander’s back. However, the protest faded as the boy smiled at the blonde.

The elder vampire frowned as the true weight of Xander’s various implications descended upon his mind. Angel knew that any decisions had to be made then and there, and that thinking things out would only complicate the matter. Besides, thoughts were what drove him away from Xander in the first place. Having been slapped in the face by that little bit of truth, Angel made his choice.

The elder vampire stood and straightened his clothes. “Both of you, get up. You’ve got an hour to get your stuff together.”

Spike frowned, not at all certain he liked where this was going. “Why?”

“Because I want to get back to L.A. before sunrise. . . and you two are coming with me.”


Love the Pain
Summary: Xander reaches his ultimate goal  
Date: June 1, 2000  


I don’t think this was my original ambition. When I was seven and someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I honestly don’t believe I ever responded with. . . well, shit. . . what the hell am I anyway?

Slave? Master? Fucktoy? Lover?

I’m sure as hell not a fireman.

So, not my first destination, but at least I’m here, and here is better then there was any day.

I’m not sure why Angel bought this place, or why the vamps I hang with have an affinity for warehouses, but I can almost certainly say that it wasn’t because he was planning on bringing me and Spike to L.A. to live out our existences as his harem.

Nope, that was my plan.

Worked pretty good, didn’t it?

Thank the Gods for predictable people.

Predictable Aura who blabbed to Cordelia about seeing me make out with Spike outside the Bronze. . . predictable Cordy who predictably whined to Angel about what she predictably saw as another personal affront to herself. . . predictable Angel, who just couldn’t stand the idea of Spike touching what he still predictably thought of as his. . . and Spike, unbelievably predictable Spike, who even with rug burns on his knees, and rope burns on his wrists, still managed to be predictably possessive.

Like I said. . . Thank the Gods.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds. Like that emotional break down thing in the alley. Pure hell to go through.

I don’t cry. I used to, but then again, I used to beg for help from God every night. It took me a little while but I finally realized the futility in both actions.

But, there, in that alley, I cried. I cried because I had to. I mean, the whole performance would have been lost without a weepy finale.

I was actually surprised at how easily the tears came. There I was, all ready to think of dead puppies, and kitten carcasses, when the waterworks started.

I’m still not sure where it all came from. These great, huge sobs that wracked my body, that sent two master vampires scurrying to comfort me.

Comfort me.

It was. . . nice.

But, this is better.

This strange little haven with the massive bed and fully stocked fridge. This freaky oasis with the new color tv, and the chains hanging from the ceiling. This wonderfully twisted sanctuary where I dominate. . . and am dominated.

That’s a new part to our little game. Angel decided that he wanted a bit of control.

Like, for example, he insisted that I be confined to this building. Evidently Deadboy is a little paranoid about losing me. Insert your own ironic comment here.

Although, I don’t think paranoia is why he insists on me being nude all the time.

Oh well, Angel can have his professed power. After all, I have what I wanted.

I’ve got my Angel back, and Spike. . . well, he’s just an added bonus.

You know, sometimes. . . lately. . . I kinda love being me.


the end