The Tiger
10 Revelations
Spike strode down the corridor with confidence he genuinely didn’t feel. If Angelus caught him, he’d be dead before the sun rose. Still, it never paid to show your cards.
He rounded the corner and walked through the arch to his left into an alcove. Quickly, he scanned the halls, making sure he was alone before tapping once on the door.
It slid open immediately and his arms were full of warm wriggling human girl. “Blondie bear.”
“Hello, love.” Spike smiled and brushed Harmony’s hair back before pressing her to the wall and kissing her breathless. She was young, human and fairly stupid, just the way the pleasure house liked them. If they had their way, all their whores would be pedigreed, beautiful girls and boys who couldn’t think for themselves and knew their place.
Of course, being less then stellar in the brains department meant they were also susceptible to a bit of flash.
Spike tipped his chin toward the door. “He out?”
Like many of the unsponsored slaves, Harmony traveled between the thirteen pleasure houses planet wide. The arrangement brought in fresh blood, so to speak, into the stables. Most of the unsponsored made an effort to find a vampire to affiliate with during their tours. Harmony had managed to hook up with Tarasios this time around, one of the oldest on the council. Not entirely surprising since he was one of the few old ones that didn’t have a consort, and was known to have a voracious appetite for anything new.
Harmony nodded. “Yep. That stuff you gave me worked like a charm. What was in it?”
“Bit of this and that,” Spike replied vaguely. It was a potion that Tara had whipped up for him; guaranteed to knock even the oldest of vampires out for at least twelve hours. “He should sleep all night. Were you able to get it?”
She looked down coyly and drawled, “Mmmm that depends. Do you have anything for me?”
Spike managed not to grit his teeth. Slaves like her were the reason he’d never wanted to own one - she was so bloody annoying, but he needed her in the worst way. So instead of going for the jugular, he played along, leering at her. “Think you’ll like this.”
Spike held out a small tablet.
Harmony accepted it and read the display. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “This is…you’re approving me to be on the list. THE list.”
“Girl as young and beautiful as you…I thought this would be the perfect thank you.”
“And this is all you want?” she asked suspiciously, holding up the i-dent card he’d asked her to pilfer from her sugar daddy
– the fat fuck was the one and only vamp who had his card keyed for Abattoir.
Spike grinned. “Yeah, I’m a bit peckish and the house blend just doesn’t do it for me. Something fresh would hit the spot.”
“Huh?”
God, she was a stupid twat. Her only redeeming quality was that she could suck a golf ball through a straw. “I’m hungry.”
Harmony rolled her eyes. “You just want to go down there and kill something.”
Spike winked at her. “That, too.”
“Why would you do this…get me approved and everything, just for that.”
“Because the real favor is that I need you to keep it a secret from everyone. I’m on Angelus’ short list about now, I reckon.”
“You’re telling me.” Harmony confided. “We were at the games with him last night. You should hear him talk about what he does with your slave. I kinda feel sorry for the poor guy.”
Spike had to use every ounce of willpower he had to keep the soft smile on his face. “So…what do you say. You do me this one favor and you get to live forever? Fair deal?”
“Oh yeah.” Harmony dropped the card into Spike’s outstretched hand. “You now have access to the all-you-can-eat buffet.”
Spike didn’t know if he should be revolted or impressed at her complete lack of empathy. Didn’t matter – he had what he needed. “Thank you, pet.”
The blonde eyed the tablet hungrily before reluctantly giving it back to Spike. “So…when?”
Spike keyed in his access code. “Soon as your tour at this house is up. No need to tip anyone off. You’ll leave as planned but instead of ending up in the pleasure house you’ll get re-routed.”
“Oh my god.” Harmony nearly squealed, and Spike had to struggle not to cover her mouth. “That’s soon. Like the end of the month soon. Aura is supposed to be here next and I was supposed to go to...”
Spike grinned. “Not any more.”
“She’s gonna be so jealous!”
“Not a word, love.” Spike’s expression turned serious.
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Harmony’s eyes got huge at the implication of what she’d just said.
Spike winked. “That’s the plan. See you in a few hours.”
~*~
“How are you doing today?” Tara asked gently, setting down the tray of food she’d brought. She’d been able to acquire a few of his favorites, including something special hidden beneath the napkin. Xander hadn’t been eating, and she hoped to tempt him.
“Peachy,” Xander replied, refusing to look at her.
Oz had rearranged his training schedule to coincide with her daily visits, so they could have some private time together. Tara thanked the goddess every day that he’d been put in their path. Xander couldn’t have had a better protector in this horrible place.
“Xander,” Tara sighed.
He refused to look up, instead studying the back of his hand as if it held the answer to the mysteries of the universe. “I’m sorry. I just can’t stand that you have to see me like this every day.”
After everything she’d been through trying to get here, hearing that he didn’t want her was like a fist in her gut. “I want to help you.”
Xander, lost in his own pain, didn’t notice Tara pale. “You pity me.”
“No,” Tara replied adamantly. “I just...know how you feel.”
“How could you?” Xander shot back.
“You think this is easy for me?” Tara asked miserably. “I do know how you feel. Every sound you’re not expecting makes you want to crawl out of you skin. You cringe at smells that used to be harmless and the feeling of sweaty flesh near your own. You don’t like it when people touch you.”
Looking mortified, Xander rose and tried to apologize. “Tara – I”
“Let me finish!” Tara interrupted. “What I do know is that Spike didn’t have anything to do with it. He cares about you, Xander, or he wouldn’t have gone to so much effort to get sent here.”
Sickly, Tara realized she’d said the wrong thing as Xander’s expression turned from apologetic to suspicious. “What did he have you do?”
“It doesn’t matter. I offered to help.” Tara held his gaze, unwilling to let him see the depth of her sins. Xander didn’t need to be burdened with anything more, this was her cross to bear.
After a long moment, Xander realized that she wasn’t going to give him anymore information. His suspicion faded into concern. “Are you okay? With whatever you’re not telling me.”
“It’s done. And…yes.” Tara barely stopped herself from stuttering on the lie. “Now come on and eat, mister. You can’t take your potion on an empty stomach.”
“Ah yes, my daily dose of stinky, yet frothy, nectar.” Xander face contorted into a parody of a grimace.
“I know it tastes bad.” Tara agreed. “It’s the motherwort. It’ll help you recover faster.”
She didn’t add that it also broke the hold the Halo had on his mind and body. Most importantly, it would dull the hallucinations until they were reduced to ghosts of memories. One more dose, maybe two was all he’d need.
Xander strode over to the table, and began picking through the bits of fruit, bread and cheese she’d assembled. “Hey, there’s chocolate here.”
Tara smiled softly at the look of happiness on his face. It was something she thought she’d never see again. “I managed to find some in the kitchens.”
“You always look out for me.”
Tara felt her throat tighten. “I always will.”
~*~
The scent of fresh blood poured over him as soon as Spike crossed the threshold, bringing with it the luscious memories of being newly turned. He inhaled deeply and wallowed in it for a moment. Abattoir. It was almost like coming home.
Knowing that he was going to be in the slaughter house proper tonight made his bloodlust sing, and it took every bit of his control to clamp it down. God, he hated Angelus more than ever in that split-second, for dragging him here and taking this feeling of power away from him.
Duty tours in the slaughterhouse were doled out at the Council’s discretion, and Spike hadn’t been in the rotation for longer than he cared to admit.
Data scrolled by at a leisurely pace on the wall vid: names of the damned and their sins. Most were human, although not all.
Spike easily found the one he was looking for and noted the room number before proceeding down the corridor.
The walkway sloped downward and curved the right. Discreet wall sconces illuminated the pathway from the left, while floor-to-ceiling observation windows lined the right. Terror oozed from inside each of the well-lit punishment chambers as he passed. Spike stayed focused. The room he was looking for was on the bottom level.
He rarely came down here to the observation level to view punishments anymore because it was so damn hard to control himself. It was agony being separated from the torture by only a thin, impenetrable barrier of microglass and yet unable to participate.
The levels descended in a spiral reminding him of a museum he’d read about on Earth-that-was. Course, he doubted whoever designed that structure did it for proper fluid drainage.
He finally reached his destination, the tag outside read:
Prisoner ID – 3456921 – Human – Treason – Reanimation – Level 6.
“Open sesame,” Spike whispered as he passed his stolen card over the reader. The door slid back. “Thank you, Harm.”
The slave inside had his arms bound behind him, and he was strapped to a post behind him to keep him upright. He didn’t raise his head and Spike wondered if he was too far gone to even care. Fuck, he’d be pissed if that was the case.
The human looked very different from the last time he’d seen him at the council meeting. He’d been with the throngs brought up for punishment. You’d think the humans would learn to toe the line – but of course the line moved.
Even though the slave had surely been advised against it, he’d tried to speak as the charges were read aloud to the council. Angelus looked at him coldly before gesturing to the guard. In the blink of an eye, the slave was pinned to the ground, his guard pressing a boot against his neck as a mage quickly changed the spell to silence him. It was the only reason this one’s name stood out at all in Spike’s mind; otherwise, one cowering human pretty much looked the same as the next.
It had taken a summary report from Tara about Xander’s condition to fill in the missing bits.
Spike decided to start with the easy questions. “They give you your voice back?”
The slave nodded weakly. “Yes, sir.”
“Look at me.”
The slave raised his head, and terror flashed in his eyes. “Master Spike.”
Unable to stop himself, Spike’s face shifted and his mouth start to water. His fangs itched to slice and rend flesh. The fear pouring from the human chained in front of him didn’t help. “Know who I am, then.”
The man began to blubber. “I’m s-ssorr-ry, sir. F-forbidden to c-contact you. I tried…Oz-z-z..”
Spike would have bet if he’d actually been fed recently, the human would have shit himself. This was getting them nowhere. “Shut it. I’m not interested in the babble.”
The man whimpered but shut up.
“Now, let’s start at the beginning, shall we? You’re Janson, yes? Tasked with keeping my boy fit and healthy.”
“I…yes, sir.” Janson replied. “I was his h-healer.”
“Good boy.” Spike pulled a chair from one wall, spun it around and sat down and rested his arms against the back. “Now,
tell me everything you know about what’s been done to Xander.”
“If I tell you, will you make it stop?” the human wheezed.
Of course that was what he’d want in trade. This was reanimation level; prisoners were tortured then resuscitated in a never-ending cycle. Their only reprieve rested upon the whim of whomever had assigned them there - in this case, Angelus. Janson didn’t have a prayer of being released any time soon.
Spike shifted back to his human face. “Sorry, mate,” he said, actually meaning it. “Best I can do is make today quick for you. Drain you ‘fore I go.”
Janson let out an exhausted sob, but then nodded. He began his tale, starting with when he’d been assigned to care for Xander, and finishing with his arrest. Occasionally, Spike prodded for further details, careful to keep his voice cool and impartial. Inside though, Spike seethed. Not a word of it was pretty. His boy’d been put through the wringer.
Angelus was dead. The details of how Spike was going to accomplish that were irrelevant. The vampire was going to pay.
After he finished, Spike asked one final question, “That everything?”
Janson hesitated briefly, weighing his answer. “Xander thinks you abandoned him.”
It didn’t take a genius to twig on that, based upon the story he’d just heard, but points for the human for spelling it out for him anyway.
Satisfied that Janson had held up his end of the bargain, it was time for Spike to do his part. Promising to kill the human quick didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun.
Spike stood abruptly, slamming the chair against the wall. The sudden waft of absolute terror was like the sweetest perfume. Before the seductive bouquet had a chance to turn fetid Spike struck, wrenching Janson’s head back harshly and sinking his fangs in. It had been so long since he’d truly fed, there was no way Spike could control himself. He almost felt bad, as muscle tore beneath his assault.
He drank deep until, at last, the human’s heart pounded furiously once…twice…then sputtered out. Wiping his mouth, he delicately licked the last vestiges of crimson ambrosia from his hand.
By the time he’d finished, the wound on Janson’s neck was already beginning to heal, the muscle knitting together, slowly but steadily, as the reanimation spell kicked in.
God, he’d missed the excitement of killing. Spike was a bit buzzed as he headed out of Abattoir and down to the Halsstarrig. He had one more stop before he returned the card to Harm.
~*~
The hallways and corridors were nearly silent as Xander methodically cleaned Oz’s quarters and training equipment. It made him feel worth something, being domestic for the werewolf.
His whole life he’d been assigned to fix or build things. He was good with his hands. Suddenly, Xander missed the Phelon and the simplicity of his life there. It seemed the making and repairing things part of his life was over.
Xander knew that Tara was slipping him something to combat the drugs that had been forced into him. Every draught of potion made him feel more like himself. He didn’t know what she was giving him, or even if it was permitted, but he felt more and more like himself every day. The residual paranoia and its evil cousins, fear and panic, seemed to have departed for good. Memories of the last few weeks were muted, misted over like watching a holo-program on a crappy low-res screen.
The door opened and Xander didn’t turn, he was nearly finished with the chest-plate he’d been oiling. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
“Hello, Xander.”
Just the sound of Spike’s voice was enough to make his hands start to shake, nearly dropping the piece of armor he was holding. Xander wanted desperately not to turn around, but there was only so much space in Oz’s room and nowhere to hide, really. Unless he bolted for the bathroom.
Tara had been right, and wrong, about her assessment of how Xander was feeling. Knowing that she was drawing from her own experiences had forced him to hold his tongue. If she knew how he really felt, she would probably run screaming.
Pleasure and pain and submission were all so twisted up in his head right now, what he was fighting wasn’t revulsion from being raped. What Tara didn’t know was that by the end, he’d begged for the pain. Or maybe she did know that, but she would have thought it was the drugs. Xander knew the truth. It was him. And what he was fighting was the knowledge that his master didn’t want him.
Setting the chest-plate down, Xander finally worked up the courage to turn around. His stomach was forced to come along for the ride, but it refused to stop. Xander almost had to bolt for the bathroom for another reason.
“What are you doing here?” He was embarrassed that he couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice.
Spike leaned against the door, not coming any closer. Xander weirdly got the impression he was respecting his space. “Needed to see you. Been tryin’ since they sent you here.”
Hope flared in his chest but it was soon crushed by other memories. And now, seeing Spike, they weren’t as muted as he thought. I’d never want a pathetic scrap like you.
Shame flooded him and a flair of hot pain flashed in his wrist, another ghost that became almost real. Absently, Xander rubbed it.
“I don’t know if I can believe that,” Xander admitted, truthfully,
Spike didn’t look the least bit surprised by his admission. “Do you trust me?”
“No,” Xander replied and then wanted to cringe, unsure if the vampire would retaliate.
Fathomless blue eyes held his, pinning him in place. He didn’t seem angry, but Xander didn’t know what he was thinking. “You gonna obey me.”
Xander hated what he’d become. “Yes.”
“I’ve never hurt you, Xander. Not once. Been a complete bastard, pulled your chain and twisted you up eight ways til Sunday, but I’ve never hurt you.”
And in some kind of twisted Xander-logic, his heart knew that even though his head was telling him differently.
“Close your eyes, Xander.” Fear flooded him, but he did what he was told. His muscles felt so tense that he thought they might shatter if they were touched.
He heard Spike get closer and wanted to flee. Xander clamped his lips together to keep from screaming.
Not a soft caress, which might have sent him screaming, but one firm stroke from shoulders to wrists: initiating touch carefully. Xander expected Spike to wrap his fingers tightly around his wrists, but he didn’t. His palm just rested against the back of Xander’s wrists, a cool comforting weight.
The command he’d been given made Xander both surprised and nervous. His eyelids fluttered and he had to squeeze his eyes together to keep them shut.
“Good boy.”
Spike was so close; the low whisper was next to his ear. The bare skin of Xander’s torso prickled with gooseflesh and he barely contained a shiver at the thought that their chests might touch any moment.
They didn’t touch, but the low whisper in his ear continued. “Angelus did a number on you. Know it’s hard for you to submit and impossible for you not to.”
Xander felt his forehead wrinkle in confusion. “How?”
“You think you’re the only one who’s been at the end of his chains?”
Once again, Xander felt his control almost slip as he nearly opened his eyes. Of all the things he thought Spike would ever say, that would never have occurred to him.
Now the fingers did clasp around his wrists, but gently. “Tell me the name you call me, in your head, in your heart. The one you don’t want to force past your lips.”
Xander felt something inside of himself break. He was tired of fighting, tired of being a pawn. He whispered the one thing he’d never thought he’d say, and mean, to Spike, “Master.”
With that admission came terror and the feeling of freedom.
~*~
Spike wanted to crow, but didn’t. He was there, under his boy’s skin. Because the way Xander uttered the title it wasn’t an honorific, wasn’t duty or rote. It was in his blood. “God, you don’t know what it does to me to hear you say that.”
Spike lightly nipped the bare skin of Xander’s shoulder with blunt teeth, relishing the shudder and sudden outpouring of pheromones. “I could be so good to you, if you let me. I’d give you what you need.”
The desire changed to longing coupled with misery as Xander replied. “I’d be a pet.”
“Open your eyes.”
The boy’s eyelids snapped open at once, the pupils expanding swiftly until only a small slice of brown was left.
“I love you, Xander.” Spike admitted. “And I won’t let you go. Want you so bad I’d turn you if I could. But they’d stake you before your first sunrise.”
Spike watched as panic flickered through Xander’s eyes, but the scent of desire still clung to his skin. “That’s not love, it’s obsession.”
“I’m a demon. The two are pretty much intertwined.” Spike rubbed his thumb across Xander’s wrist, the one with his mark on it. He reined in his anger as the pad of this thumb encountered infinitesimal ridges instead of smooth skin; nearly healed scars. Fucking Angelus had tried to remove the tattoo, even though he would have known the ink was magicked to reappear even if the skin was regenerated. He used the same shit on his slaves to make sure that they would bear his marks for the rest of their days. No wonder Xander felt abandoned, he’d likely been told he wasn’t worthy of wearing Spike’s mark just before it had been stripped from him.
Gently Spike lifted his wrist to his lips and placed a kiss upon it. “I’d never take this from you. Means you're mine. You know that, right?”
“But you did. I can see it, feel it all the time.” Xander admitted. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”
Not sure if it would work on humans as well as it did on fledges, but willing to give it a try, Spike lifted his other hand to his mouth. His fangs extended slightly and he nicked the pad of his thumb and then rubbed the drop of blood that sprang forth over the fine web of scars on Xander’s wrist.
“I told you once that blood’s a powerful thing to vampires. You gave yours for my mark, so I’m giving you some back.”
They both watched as the smear of blood sunk in and disappeared into Xander’s skin, taking with it the last vestiges of damage. He placed a final kiss on the now pristine tattoo, and released his hold on Xander. “Better?”
“I…yeah.” Xander sounded surprised by the gesture.
Spike looked at the wall chrono, realizing how late it was. “Shit. Got to cut this short, love.”
Spike stepped back.
“You’re leaving?” Xander paled and looked panicked. “Master?” Don’t leave me.
Spike stopped just inside the doorway, and turned, studying Xander. “C’mere.”
Hesitantly, Xander took one step forward, then another until he was directly in front of Spike.
The vampire hooked a hand behind Xander’s neck, cupping his head and drawing him closer. He pressed his cool lips against warmer ones, and the boy’s eyes slipped shut immediately. Spike was reminded of their first kiss, except this time he took control, wordlessly demanding Xander submit to him. And the boy did, too, easily. This wasn’t a spell, it was Xander, and that made it so much sweeter.
Xander was breathless when Spike pulled away. He thought he read longing and desire in the boy’s eyes for a moment, but they were gone so quickly. Spike wasn’t sure that it wasn’t the product of his own imagination.
“I’ll be back. ‘S a promise.”
~*~
It was more than an hour later when Oz returned from his matches. He looked tired but was freshly showered. Xander felt a flash of guilt.
“I would have bathed you.”
Oz waved his hand, unconcerned. “Nah, man. I don’t mind.”
Xander knelt, and looked up. “I don’t mind, either.”
Suddenly, tension flowed between them. Neither one of them were talking about bathing anymore.
“Don’t do this to get back at Spike, man.” Oz replied. Xander could hear a little bit of anger in his tone. “I know he was here.”
“You want me?” Xander asked softly. Even though he knew Spike couldn’t do anything, Xander felt betrayed once again by Spike. Shit was all twisted up in his head, and all he knew was that he needed to be wanted by someone who cared about him.
Oz’s hand curled into a half-fist before he forced his fingers to relax. “Yeah.”
“It’s not about Spike,” Xander said angrily. “I want not to be a whore. You make me feel like I’m still a person.”
Callused fingers traced his cheek. “You are a person, Xander.”
“You haven’t been with anyone since I got here, have you?”
“No,” Oz’s voice was strained. “But, Xander, I can’t be gentle. The moons are getting full.”
“It’s okay…but I can’t fight. I don’t think I have it in me anymore,” Xander said quietly and then suddenly felt apprehensive. “I don’t know if you’d want me that way.”
Oz gave a low growl and that had been stroking his cheek wound itself in his hair, pulling his head back.
Xander let out a small whimper, but didn’t pull away. He couldn’t even be embarrassed that his cock swelled.
“You want me? Want me to be rough with you, hurt you and make you beg for more?” Oz demanded in a gruff voice, his eyes bleeding to black.
Xander wanted to nod, but Oz tightened his grip. “Yes.”
“On the bed.” Oz released his hair. “Go.”
Scrambling to the bed as he’d been ordered, Xander felt an unfamiliar rush of genuine desire. A warm hand brushed
against his ass. “I’m not going to tie you. This is your choice, Xander.”
A fission of excited fear twisted in his stomach. Xander realized he could take whatever Oz offered because he wasn’t forced to. He wanted it. And that made all the difference. “Yes.”
The first blow struck the warm spot where Oz hand had just been. “Count.”
When it was over, Xander was spent and aching everywhere, but for once felt at peace. Even the warm trickle of Oz’s spend between his legs was comforting. He was lying on his belly on the bed, as the werewolf tenderly bathed the multitude of welts along his shoulders and ass with his tongue. “Mmm. That feels nice.”
Oz stopped his tongue bath and moved up on the bed, so he was level with Xander’s head. “I can only keep you through Bacchanal. Then they want you back in circulation.” Oz didn’t have to specify who ‘they’ were. He meant Narella and the pleasure house. “I made a deal with Spike, so I’ll take you most nights, but you have to be with the others, too.”
Xander had been expecting this news, and was able to push away his fear of leaving his safe haven. There wasn’t anything he could do about it. He also pushed away the part of him that was curious about the details of the deal the werewolf had made with Spike. “Thanks, Oz. For everything.”
“I wish I could keep you.” Xander could hear the heartfelt desire in Oz’s voice.
Gingerly, Xander leaned over and kissed Oz, trying to convey the level of gratitude he felt for the respite he’d provided. If they’d been in another time, another place, things might have worked out, but not here. Not now. He’d take and give whatever comfort he could to the werewolf for as long as he was able.
Silently, he pulled back and met Oz’s inscrutable gaze. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
What else was there to say?
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