lit_gal | Broken Revenge 19

Okay, the next part may be out either tomorrow or the day after... we'll have to see since I have some other stuff to do and even the dictation program has limitations.

Still not beta'ed. Just point out the stupid mistakes and I'll fix 'em.

Broken Revenge
Rated: ADULT - Slave!fic (and right now someone other than Spike owns Xander!)
Previous parts using tags
Previous parts using memories

Xander pulled the Jeep in behind the dirty white café. A sign hanging by one hook said the "The Hungry Romantic" and Xander wasn't even going to guess at how stupid a person had to be to name a restaurant something like that. Besides, the peeling boards and dark window painted with the latest $1.99 special didn't look every damn romantic. Of course Xander was more interested in the pay phone hanging on the side of the building.

He parked the Jeep in the shade of a scraggly tree and then jumped out, hissing as his feet hit the hot gravel of the lot. "Fuck," he whispered as he picked his way to the corner. A quick glance told him that no one was around the phone, which was good considering that Xander looked a little strange in his bare feet and his short, tight pants.

Tiptoeing gingerly over to the phone, he picked up the handset and punched in numbers that Spike had made him memorize when they had first reached Joyce's house: calling card numbers and Spike's cell phone. Xander rested his forehead against the warm black metal of the phone box as he waited for the connections to make.

The phone made a shrill squawking sound. "The phone you are trying to reach is out of service," the automated voice answered, and Xander felt his chest tighten around his heart as he gave a sob. It didn't mean anything. Spike could have lost the phone or broken it fighting some baddie. Or maybe he forgot to charge it. Spike wasn't always big on the old responsibility scale. Then again, maybe he left the cell phone in the room that day at the auction. There were a thousand reasons why the phone wouldn't be in service, and yet the only reason Xander could focus on was at the phone was gone. What if the phone, and his Master, were dust?

Xander felt the heat of the late afternoon sun on his back as he gasped for air and tried to breathe despite the crushing weight of grief that threatened to destroy him. Slowly, Xander took the phone away from his ear and gently laid it back into the cradle.

He couldn't do this. Not without Spike he couldn't. Xander gave a little hiccup as he felt tears warming his eyes even while he stood there and wondered what to do. A little part of them said to just curl up in a ball and give up because it didn't matter what he did. It didn't matter how hard he tried, it all just fell apart anyway.

So what if he'd saved Buffy from The Master, he'd only saved her so that she could die a death far more brutal. And Jesse. And Miss Calendar. And the sweet little Willow who he had known, she was gone. In her place was a brittle woman who he didn't really understand. Xander took deep breaths as he tried to fight back against the despair that stole every bit of pride that he'd felt in freeing himself.

If he were in New York, he would seriously try his 'explaining the whole plan for the cops' plan. Right now some Thorazine would be of the good. Instead he picked up the handset a second time and punched in another set of numbers.

As the phone on the other end rang, Xander practiced the possible speeches in his head. He just had to do this without sounding completely and totally pathetic, and avoiding bawling over the phone would be step one. As the phone rang for the third time Xander took a deep breath and then pushed it out as he tried to regain control.

"Angel investigations, we help the hopeless," Cordelia's voice announced cheerfully, "we're out right now, but if you leave a message, we will call you back." The sound of that voice from another lifetime helped Xander push the fear into a corner of his mind and focus on getting himself out of trouble.

"Angel? Um, I think I need some help here. Oh, this is Xander. Spike and I kinda got separated, and I'm really hoping you know where he is because I don't. But, that's not really why I'm calling. I kinda got sold at the auction, and I think I'm in New Mexico. I'm on Highway 60 at a place called The Hungry Romantic, and hey, stupid name for a restaurant, huh? So, here's the problem. Short on the money front, nearly as short on the clothing front, and not doing so well on the gas front either. So before the demons who are chasing me catch up with me, I'm really kind of hoping that you can come and do the whole helping of the hopeless thing. I mean, if you have time." Xander physically flinched even though no one could see him over the phone. If he had time. Yeah, pathetic much? "So, I guess I'll just wait."

Xander slid the phone back down onto the cradle and sent a prayer up. Maybe Spike was with Angel. That would explain the whole dead cell phone because Angel and cell phones didn't mix well. Yep, he would just blame it all on Angel. Because Spike wasn't dust. No sirey. No dust for Spike.

Xander turned around and rested his back against the warm wood slats as he looked down at his tattoo. With his left hand, he touched the image with his fingertips, feeling how the skin was slightly tougher where the ink was darkest. He traced where the hawk's claws gripped the snake.

"You can't be gone because I didn't let you go," the Xander whispered to no one in particular. Even as he told himself that Spike was still unalive in the walking around way, he felt tears sliding down his face. He reached up and brushed them away angrily. "Great," he snapped at himself sarcastically, "Just sit here and get your ass captured again you big goober," he told himself. Xander had skipped the gas station that was a little too conveniently close to the ranch, and he had skipped the rundown little house 30 miles past that, but he didn't really think he'd escaped.

So, give Dareh's boys an hour at each place to search for him, and he had a little time to spare. Xander couldn't get much farther with the gas in the Jeep, so he turned his mind to making a stand. Well, either making a stand or finding a way to end things quickly, depending on how fast Angel showed up. Either way, the one thing Xander knew he had to do was avoid making little slave babies. He shivered at the thought, and he knew that if he did that, he would break in a way that not even Spike could save him from. He tried to ignore a quick flash of an image of some demon feeling up a little boy with wide brown eyes who looked suspiciously like Xander's school pictures. Of course, if Dareh had his way, Xander's children wouldn't ever have school pictures or schools or normal friends. They would grow up with women who thought that slavery had somehow saved them from the streets and they would grow up thinking that demons had a right to own their bodies.

With that thought in mind, Xander strode across the gavel lot, the tiny edges of the stones digging into the bottoms of his feet as he headed over to move the Jeep. That would happen over his dead body.

Xander pulled the last of the short scrubby branches over the hood of the Jeep before studying the trinkets he'd recovered from the glove box and under the seats and in the backseat. Fifty-nine cents, four paperclips, a book of matches, and a blanket with more unidentifiable stains than Xander cared to thing about. Xander picked up a paperclip, and fingered the thin metal gently.

He remembered how he had slipped Spike the paperclip in Lirowaus' dungeon. He'd truly believed he'd never see Spike again. He remembered the empty ache that had filled his whole body when he had given up on his Master, given up the chance to ever feel safe and loved again. And now, he felt that same pain, only it was someone else who had ripped Spike from him. He knew that. Spike would never leave him, not to Lirowaus and not to Dareh. He closed his fist around the paperclip, feeling the end prick him.

Lirowaus had imprisoned Spike to make Xander behave. He had asked Spike to go to that auction, and he had wanted to go into the ballcourt. The vampire had survived over a century of Angelus and Darla and revolutions and slayers, but a couple of months of Xander and…. Xander stopped himself from finishing that thought. He'd given up once and Spike had surprised him, so he wasn't going there. Xander opened his hand and looked at the paperclip before putting it back down with the other things he'd scavenged.

Grabbing the blanket, Xander started pulling at it, rubbing a side against the medal edge of the wheel well to try and start a tear. Running barefoot in the desert wasn't going to happen, and he sure wasn't going to trust The Hungry Romantic staff, so he was on his own. The fabric of the blanket suddenly gave, and the blanket ripped in half. Xander took one half and repeated the process until he got strips.

Right. Matches plus wick plus an eighth of a tank of gas. That worked. And everyone thought his countless hours of MacGyver worship had been wasted. He'd learned more practical stuff from MacGyver than his history teachers. Of course, he wished he'd paid a little more attention to geography because he didn't even know how far away Angel might be. If he had to hold out for days, he might be in a little trouble. Okay, he might be in a lot of trouble. And if Spike wasn't there, Angel just might consider a local apocalypse or demon infestation a higher priority than rescuing one human who seemed determined to just get captured again. Really, he had preferred his old demon-magnet reputation where the demons came to him. This new capture fetish he seemed to have was just not of the fun.

Pulling the gas cap off, Xander pushed the end of a strip of blanket down into the tank. Using a branch from a nearby tree, he shoved the fabric down until he knew the end was soaking in the gasoline, and then he took the matches in hand. Four matches. Even he couldn't screw up that many times.

Xander settled himself in the bottom of the ditch. A particularly sharp rock dug into his ass, and he fished under him and tossed it away. He'd made himself as hard to find as possible given the wide open land, but he wasn't betting that it would fool anyone for long. His best hope was that after not finding him at the first two places, Dareh might think he'd gone the other way. Or maybe Direh would just wash his hands and say 'good riddance,' not that Xander was expecting that after Direh had spent all that money on him.

Xander leaned his bare shoulder against the tire and thought back to the day Spike had fallen asleep on top of his sleeping cage. If he couldn't have Spike, at least he could indulge in some Spike-shaped memories and fantasies as he waited.

The afternoon sun was just starting to dim as it headed for the horizon when the white truck pulled into the restaurant. Two men got out, and Xander stopped breathing as he watched them scan the surrounding area. He thought they would be more likely to thoroughly search the area behind the restauraunt, so he had the Jeep sitting in a ditch across from the place. One of the men nodded toward the back and started walking around the side by the payphone. The other started toward the restaurant itself, and oh god, Xander knew that walk. Posk. Great, if that one caught him, he could bet on some nice revenge torture before he was dragged back to Direh, not that he intended to be dragged back to Direh, because his days of being dragged were over. Xander reached down and picked up the matches from the ground where he'd left them.

After a while, Posk reappeared and wandered around the far side of the café. Xander had to remind himself to take nice slow breaths so he didn't pass out. 'Come on guys,' he silently shouted at them. 'See, no escaped slaves here, just keep right on a going. Go search for your cranky stallion somewhere else… anywhere else.'

The sun had turned the sky red before the two men-shaped demons came walking back to the truck together, and Xander chanted a fervent 'move on… move on… move on,' in his head. For once his luck held and the demons got in the truck and started backing out of the parking space. Xander kept his eyes focused on the truck's back window as the demon behind the wheel backed onto the road. He went from holding his breath to softly cursing when the demon's eyes suddenly went from scanning the road to locking in on Xander. Well, probably the Jeep, but the results were the same.

The truck stopped, right there in the road and both demons got out and started trotting toward him. The cleared the road and the shoulder, and had just started hurrying across the desert when Xander stood.

"One more step, and me, the Jeep, a chunk of desert, and hopefully you two will go boom," Xander said as he pulled a match out of the matchbook and stood next to the gas tank with the rag sticking out of it.

"Now, Onyx," Posk started.

"And if I have to tell you my name is Xander one more time, I'll blow us all up on general principle, Xander said in his best 'I'm crazy and just might do it voice.' And really? Not that hard to come up with that voice right now. The only thing that kept him from going through with it was the chance that Spike was still out there.

"Okay, not a problem," Posk said as he backed up, putting out an arm to force the other demon, a grayish looking flabby-faced thing, back with him. Posk whispered something to the other guy who then turned and ran back for the truck. "So, do you really think you're going to be able to just walk away here?"

"Um, I'm thinking that's a no. I'm also thinking rescue is on the way so all I have to do is wait. Either that, or finish this by blowing myself up so I don't need rescue any more. Either way," Xander gave a shrug to show it didn't matter to him even though his stomach knotted and curled unhappily at the thought of the whole self-immolation thing. He really wasn't into pain… well, not that pain anyway.

"Okay, it's okay. We'll just wait here with you, okay?" Posk asked. He backed up toward the highway where his friend had moved the truck out of the middle of the freeway and parked it on the highway closest to the Jeep.

"And if I say no?" Xander asked.

"We'll be right here," Posk answered as he leaned back against the white truck. The second demon got out and stood looking from Posk to Xander and back again until Xander thought the guy was going to get neck strain. Knowing he didn't have any other choice, Xander leaned against the Jeep and watched them suspiciously.

Before long, a second truck, a blue and white thing with scraped fenders and a dented hood, pulled up behind Posk's truck, and Dareh wiggled his way out of the cab. Xander bit down on an urge to suggest the man give Jenny Craig a call. Posk went to talk to Dareh while the second demon dude watched as Xander stood up straight and took the matches in hand again.

Sure enough, Dareh started lumbering toward him.

"Keep coming, and we're going to find out if you're flame proof," Xander said as he raised the matches. Even in the slowly fading light, the demon should be able to see them.

"Xander, calm down," Dareh said gently.

"Oh yeah. Sure. I'll calm down so that you can have them sneak around and shoot a trank dart into me. That's a good reason to come down. Yeah. Not even." Xander turned to look at Posk and the other guy, but they were climbing in the white truck without looking at him at all.

"Where are they going?" he asked. The only thing worse than having enemies cutting you off from escape was having enemies that you couldn't see any more. Xander crouched down and pressed his back to the Jeep. Great, you moron, he told himself. Just put a few ideas in the demon's head what with the trank gun suggestion.

"They're heading back to the farm. No one's going to sneak around you, boy," Dareh said as he inched closer, crushing desert plants under his wide heavy feet.

"And why am I not believing that?" Xander asked with a roll of his eyes. "Oh yeah, because you're still standing in my way."

"I'm not going to leave you alone out here; it can be dangerous out here."

"Oh yeah, I might get grabbed and tortured by some demon from another dimension who thinks that I'm nothing more than an animal. I'm there on the danger part."

"I was actually thinking something more along the lines of dehydration."

"Really? 'Cause I'm thinking the first is a lot more probable here."

"Onyx, did Posk do something to hurt you?" Dareh demanded, pulling himself upright so that his bulk was suddenly redistributed into a creature that stood seven or eight feet tall and had the girth of a wrestler, and oh buddy, Xander really preferred the six foot fat-looking version of Dareh.

Then Xander's brain processed what Dareh said, and he really couldn't resist laughing at that, laughing hard enough that tears trailed down his face until he had to wipe away. "No, you were the one who did the hurting," he gasped. Dareh's weight collapsed back in on itself so that the wide sloping face once again looked like the non-threatening blobby demon Xander knew and most definitely didn't love.

"How did I hurt you, boy?"

"You don't even see it, do you? You really think I'm so much of an animal that I don't feel something for my children? Do you really think I would stand by and let you turn my sons and daughters into slaves?" Xander could hear his own voice become shrill and unstable. "I'll die first. I won't let you do that to my kids." And suddenly the tears that Xander felt on his face had nothing to do with laughter.

"Oh my sweet little boy," Dareh said as he bent his thick, short legs and lowered himself to the ground.

"Not yours," Xander snarled in frustration.

"Perhaps not. Perhaps your master will come, and perhaps he'll reimburse me the price I paid for you. In which case, this is just a discussion between friends." Xander snorted his disbelief that the word friends, but Dareh ignored that.

"Have you heard of evolution?" Dareh asked, and Xander had to mentally review the question before he could quite believe his ears. And people accused *him* of changing topics.

"Duh. Darwin and birds and monkeys. I didn't sleep through school, and may I point out that is one more advancement brought to you by the primitive human brain. For animals, we don't do too bad," Xander said sarcastically.

Dareh laughed softly. "Cuomsi identified the process of evolution a couple of millennia before Darwin was born. But you're right that your species does show some promise. So perhaps you know about natural selection."

"You're not going to distract me you know."

"I'm actually not trying to. So does that mean you don't know natural selection?"

"And again with the thinking I'm stupid." Xander sank down the last few inches to rest his butt on the ground.

"I've never thought you were stupid, or I wouldn't have bought you," Dareh said with a shake of his head. "So natural selection happens when an individual member of the species..."

"Yeah, yeah. An individual that has a favorable mutation will succeed and have more babies. An individual that has a mutation that's unfavorable, dies. So an owl that can turn white in winter so that it can't be seen against the snow will kill lots more prey and have lots more babies," Xander quickly finished. He'd actually been awake and non-daydreamy that day in class. "Told you are wasn't stupid."

"And so you did. So, over time as the strongest individuals survive and produce and the weak individuals die, what happens to the species as a whole?"

"It evolves. Or it adapts. I got that question wrong on the test because I kept getting the two terms confused." Okay, there went his non-stupid argument.

"And it evolves for the better?"

"That is the point. Species don't exactly evolve for the worse."

"Ah, but they do. Think about it, Xander. If you had a diseased dog that couldn't digest its food properly, what would happen to that dog in the wild?" Xander searched Dareh's face looking for some clue about where the demon was going.

"And again, we're back to the 'I'm not stupid'. It would die."

"And what if someone gave this dog medicine so that it would survive and then fed the dog and protected the dog so that it could have 200 puppies while a wild dog that was healthy would only have 50?" Dareh asked as he inched closer. Xander raised his hand with the match and he stopped. "Over time, would that species become stronger or weaker?" Dareh continued, inching back until Xander lowered the matches again.

Xander suddenly didn't like where this conversation was going. "I think I'm done talking with you."

"That's fine. But you need to listen. Cuomsi called it interferant adaptation. The humans who are strongest and smartest are choosing not to have children. Many intelligent attractive women have their first child 35 for 40 and then they only have one or two children. The whole human culture encourages those who are successful to reduce their reproduction.

"But those who are least successful, they keep right on having kids. They may have six or eight or 10 kids in the course of their lifetime. And then modern medicine takes people who have severe genetic defects and makes it possible for them to pass those defects off to another generation. I've lived in this dimension for nearly 200 years, and I'm watching your species become more fragile.

"So, given these facts, what do you think is the fate of free range humans? The day is going to come when the only genetically healthy humans are the ones on the farms. And your species is far too unique to allow you to destroy yourselves. So, will you waste your strength and your beauty in a gene pool that has already doomed itself, or will you allow yourself to admit that this is the only way for your species to survive and that you're just part of their survival?

"That's bullshit," Xander said. He wasn't quite sure where the bullshit came in, but he was sure it was bullshit.

"Now that I know you have objections to breeding, I won't ask you to breed freely. If it bothers you, we can even keep you in a separate paddock away from the mares so you don't see the pups."

"Not gonna happen. Spike's coming," Xander said despite the fact he didn't even know whether Spike was still in one piece.

"And if he doesn't? Will you truly destroy yourself even though you could have a long and productive life ensuring that your species survives its own stupidity?"

"Oh please. The only thing in my future is a trip back to the auctions, and I know who was runner up in the bidding now that I've proven that I'm not so good tempered after all." Okay, that was a stupid thing to say because the only thing in his future was a rescue when Spike roaring in and ripped Dareh to little itty bitty Dareh pieces. He had to believe that. If he didn't believe that he should just have the strength to light the damn match. Xander looked down, but Dareh's voice became louder, interrupting his thoughts.

"Have you? Onyx, what did you do to Posk when you had him helpless?

"I stole his pants and generally humiliated him. And that was after taking a post hole digger to his stomach."

"And did you kill him?"

"What? No."

"Exactly. Another male would have killed him. And right now, you're threatening yourself instead of me."

"That's only because I don't have anything to threaten you with," Xander pointed out as he held up the matches.

"Really? So if I gave you a gun, you'd shoot me?"

"Oh hell yes!" Xander answered immediately. "Shootage would be of the good right now. I'd shoot you and run for the hills."

"Shoot me to escape, possibly. But would you kill me?"

"I've killed plenty of demons," Xander hedged. He tended to kill the demons who didn't remind him of some sort of weird Mr. Rogers with a bondage fetish. Fledges he could kill without a thought. Lirowaus he would have killed, Dareh he wanted to kill, but he wasn't sure if he could actually do it.

"I don't doubt that. You fought beside a slayer and a vampire, but if you had no one to fight beside, would you go out and fight on your own? Is it in your nature to fight?"

"Hey, I've chosen to stupidly throw myself into plenty of fights," Xander pointed out.

"And my guess is that you've done so for your friends. Your nature is to follow the pack, to protect the pack. You aren't naturally aggressive or you would have killed Posk. I will not allow Leshar or any other trainer to touch you, ever."

Xander could feel the arm that held the matches trembling slightly at the offer of protection, but he kept his mouth shut for once.

"Why don't I just sit here and let you think about that?" Dareh suggested as he shifted his large body and crossed his arms over his knees. Then he lowered his head onto his arms as he watched Xander with small, black eyes. Xander just leaned against the warm metal of the Jeep as the last orange and pink streaks faded to gray in the evening sky. Right. Now all he had to do was wait for Spike. Or Angel. He never thought he'd say it, but he'd be thrilled to see Angel right now.

"Good night, boy," Dareh said softly. Xander gritted his teeth as he ordered himself to stay awake until the cavalry came to the rescue.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

spikeskat.livejournal.com

Ok, maybe I don't hate Dareh as much anymore... but he's still no Spike. Good on Xander for sticking to his guns, rather than give in and accept.

*praying for a speedy Angel recue-age* Although, Spike return-age would be better. Not that I'm nudging or anything. *grin*

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Broken Revenge 19

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