The More Things Change


Part Six

Cold water splashed over him and he was on fire. He cried out raggedly, weakly. Water ran down from his drenched hair, and dripped from his eyelashes and nose. He was so thirsty even that little bit of moisture was a blessing. He licked it off his lips desperately with his swollen tongue trying to catch as much of it as well as he was able, before it dripped away. It burned his raw throat and made him gag reflexively. It was salty and something else. The bastard had mixed ice and salt with something else in the water. It wasn't deadly but it did cause another kind of fresh pain when the water hit the open welts amd bites covering his body.

He began to tremble uncontrollably from the cold and the fresh waves of agony rolling through his battered body. He panted through his dry mouth and the air whistled in his throat. He was long past coherent thought. All he knew was pain.

A hand lifted his chin and he was looking Angelus in the face. Those cold eyes took in every nuance of the pain he caused, drinking it in and reveling in it. He made sure Xander saw the  pleasure he got from it. He leaned forward and snuffled in Xander's neck. He lifted a hand to Xander face stroking across his lips with a thumb in an obscene parody of a lover's caress. He moved his mouth to Xander's ear and whispered.  "You smell so good boy. All that pain and fear and hate. You're like Grade A prime steak to me right now."

Xander tried really hard to spit in his smug face, but his mouth was too dry so he just sputtered. "Fuck you." he ground out, and it sounded more like  "uk u" with his stiff jaw and enlarged tongue. He could only try to glare his defiance with his half open eye.

Angelus stepped back and let Xander's head flop down again, laughing as he strutted around him speaking in that hateful cheery voice.

"Now, there's no need to be churlish. We'll get to that. I wish I had more time to play with you, but alas I have responsibilities, I'm sure you understand. We're going out tonight and I have to get you ready. I'm going to show you off as the newest member of the family.  Then once you're settled I have an appointment with The Beast. You ought to be flattered. None of my other childer got to be brought into the family publicly, Xander. I just have a couple of things to do to get you ready for your special night and we'll go.  I wonder if the Slayer will send me a thank you note for upgrading her little lap dog to a wolf?"

Angelus pushed on his raw back and he swayed in the chains. The movement caused fresh waves of agony to crash over him and he let out a deep agonized groan.

Angelus let out a deep sigh of pleasure as he walked away. " I just love it when you sing for me. You're such a romantic boy. I'm going to enjoy training you boy. We'll be together for a very long time. I'll teach allll my favorite songs. You just sing them so well for me. From now on you'll sing them just for me."

He could only make out the blur of shoes turning and walking out of sight. He could hear a metallic clinking sound and then he smelled fire. Then the shoes came back.  He croaked out a raw sound as he was lifted and a positioned over a narrow waist high bench with his legs dangling. The relief to his shoulder joints was outweighed by the jostling of every other painful point in his body.  Angelus kicked his legs apart and tied them to the legs of the bench.  A restraint was pulled around his waist and tightened almost unbearably. Waves of pain washed over him creating nausea, he whined and panted and gratefully slid into darkness again.

A sharp slap to his broken leg brought him back to a wavering awareness again some indeterminate time later. "Wake up boy. It's time to get you ready. I have something extra special I 'm doing just for you. You can show me how grateful you are later. In fact I'll insist on it. You're never going to forget this night. But then special times like this shouldn't be forgotten. I know I'm going to savor the memories for a long time to come. I've been hard for days, but I wanted to save it for our wedding night, seeing as you're a virgin and all."

Angelus grabbed his hips in a grip that would leave bruises and ground his cloth covered hardness into the exposed cleft of his ass for a moment. He ran a hand down to his balls and gathered them in his hand squeezing hard enough to force a grunt from his throat.  "And I know how nervous virgins can be. See, I can be romantic too. I guess that means we're just made for each other." Angelus chuckled.

Xander faded out again.

A sharp tap on his sore jaw and a hand beneath his chin raising his head brought around again. He could smell something hot and could barely make out a blurry glowing object held up in front of his face.

Angelus let his head flop again. Xander felt him walking round him again to his back sliding a hard hand along his damaged side.  

"I'm just sooo excited and you're just so irresistible, I might just come before the main event, boy.  Well, let's get this show on the road. Are you ready?" In a syrupy sweet caring voice. "Here we go."

Xander felt a hand on his buttocks pulling his ass cheeks further apart. He felt something touch his anus, he heard a hiss and smelled burning flesh. Then he felt the the hard object touch his balls and rest there. Another hiss. Then it touched the head of his dangling cock. He didn't feel anything at first, then it was icy cold, then he felt the searing heat. The agony ran up his spine and ignited every nerve in his body and exploded in his brain. He convulsed in the restraints, the fresh torment overriding every other pain for the moment. He let out an inhumanly raw sound. His mouth open wide unable to scream and tears pouring from his eyes.

He gagged as the pain made his body try to vomit, but it was dry jerking painful heaves, there was nothing to come up. He heard a whimpering from far away and and realized that he was the one whimpering.  

Angelus quickly put down the hot metal rod and circled round to stand in front of Xander. He ripped open his pants panting with excitement and jerked his cock free. He lifted the boy's face with one hand and with the other he fed his cock into the boy's gaping mouth. He grabbed the boy's hair with both hands and rammed his cock into the boy's mouth up to the balls. He slammed his cock head savagely into the boy's throat again and again, bruising damaged tissues further. And he came, sooner than he wanted to, with a snarl. He pulled back enough to watch some of his come fill the boy's mouth and pulled out and spurted the rest on the boy's agonized face.

Xander heard from far away and fading away into darkness. "There, now you're ready. I have to make sure there's enough of you left for your special performance."

The next little while was like a flickering light. Flick on; being rolled up in something soft, the burns and broken bones flaring into new agony, mewling and panting. Flick off.

Flick on; being carried somewhere a keening in his throat. Flick off.

Flick on; the noise of a crowd. Flick off.

Flick on; a liquid being forced into his mouth and running out the sides of his mouth and scorching down his raw throat. A cheerful voice in his ear. " You can't miss the best part, boy. I want you to sing for me. This'll help."

Thrown face down on a hard surface. Hands forcing his legs apart. Hard hands spreading his ass cheeks and a hard cock slamming into his burnt raw anus sending insane amounts of fresh agony through his body. He could feel a slickness running down from his anus and pooling under his belly as his damaged flesh tore and bled. The burned head of his cock being ground into the hard surface beneath him and a hand squeezing his raw burnt balls. And those inhuman animal sounds coming from his throat again. Like the caw of a crow, dying down to a whimper and rising again at each thrust into his abused body.

"That's.. right.. boy... sing... for.... me..let ..them" Angelus panted between each hard thrust rocking his inert body. "It's almost time boy. get ready. You're gonna be mine forever."

With those words the agony that had become Xander's world lifted for just a moment. " Never. I'll never be yours." He tried to say. But Angelus was coming. He grabbed a handful of hair, jerked Xander's head back and over. He struck like a snake, biting savagely, pulling his blood out hard and fast. Xander knew he was slipping away and he kept up the mantra of denial in his head. Never be yours. Never be yours. Never be yours. And his awareness started to fade. Finally. He could quit hurting. He could escape Angelus. He could rest.

He was barely aware when he was flipped onto his back, he couldn't feel his body anymore, and his jaw forced open and a liquid was dripped into his mouth.  All he was aware of was blessed liquid that soothed his parched mouth and damaged tissues. Blackness started to close in and he heard his heartbeat in his ears as it slowed and stuttered. And he knew no more.

Part Seven

Angelus laughed in delight as he stared down at the battered bloody boy laying on the table. "Well hell, easy peasy." He singsonged in high good humor. He raised his eyes and swept the now silent spectators with a hard yellow eyed gaze. "Any questions, comments, complaints or objections?" he asked cheerfully. "None? Then I'll say goodnight. It's a special night for me you know, it's not every night I get a Slayer's lap dog as a childe." He bent and swept the boy up and slung him over his shoulder and swaggered toward the door.

Demons of every kind scrambled and melted out of his way to give him a clear path. No one wanted to get on his worst side it seemed. Just as it should be. He smirked with satisfaction as a demon hurriedly opened the door as he approached it and he swept through it with the arrogance of a ruling prince.

He had to get the boy to his temporary lair. He needed to hunt up a quick meal. He was hungry after giving the boy all that blood, he frowned, more than he should have given him really. But there was no getting around it. If he hadn't played with him so much before he made an example out of him to the whole LA demon community, he would have been livelier at the end. But hell's bells he'd enjoyed the playing sooo much. Especially after being trapped by guilt boy's soul for so long.

He would be free for two or three days until his newest childe woke. He planned to take care of The Beast before then and a few other.. he smirked .. odd jobs. He wanted to be able to concentrate on his newest childe exclusively for a while. His mouth watered. Damn but the plans he had for this boy. This boy was going to make Spike look like a choir boy. He'd see to it.

He took a deep breath and scented the air. Ah sweet chaos. Everything was right with his world at the moment. He laughed giddily as did a turning waltz step down the street the boy swung out behind him and bumped along his back. He reached up and grabbed the boy's ass and laughed again. He was going to have soooo much fun with this childe.

He stopped at a manhole and lifted the cover, easily navigated the ladder down and pulled the cover back over the hole after him. He whistled as he strutted through the sewer. He made a couple of turns and came to a particular ladder and started up. He pushed the cover up and climbed the ladder. He rolled the boy off his shoulder onto the floor at the top and climbed the rest of the way out, slammed the cover closed behind him and locked it.

Angelus smirked as he looked around the apartment. No one would ever think to look in Angel's basement apartment for Angelus. The best place to hide is under the nose of the hunter. He picked up the boy, his body dangled bonelessly in his arms and headed toward the bedroom. He laid him on the bed, looked down at him, laughed lightheartedly and patted himself on the back. " This will be your best work yet, Angelus." He turned to leave whistling a jaunty cheerful air. "Oh yeah, you've still got it," could be heard as he descended into the sewers again. Whistling interspersed with laughing and crowing could be heard echoing in the tunnels long after he was out of sight.

Part Eight

His very first feeling was hunger, bone deep all consuming hunger. It burned through him until his veins were on fire with it and it demanded instant appeasement.

His second feeling was confusion.

His eyes snapped open and he looked about at his surroundings with bleary eyes, recognizing nothing.

His self awareness expanded more slowly than his feelings.

He became aware of the silence. He raised an aching arm and looked at the marks on it in confusion. Touched his chest and felt the lingering tenderness, the stillness, and listened to the silence. He knew something was missing, lost.

His eyes teared up. He was lost.

His third feeling was a body freezing fear.

He sat up and looked around himself and scrambled from the bed, gasping as his sore body protested. He fetched up in the corner on the other side of the bed, the farthest from the door, screwing himself into the smallest space possible and laying his head on top of his knees.  He wrapped his arms around himself and purred softly, trying to comfort himself. He licked at his sore arm with his cool tongue.

What was happening? Where was he? Why was he alone in the dark? Why was he sore? Shouldn't someone be here?


A flash of memory. Consuming pain and cruel laughter. He stilled exploring the memory. He turned it this way and that examining it from all sides. It was joined by another, his eyes widened. The memories trickled back in a sluggish stream. The stream widened and the memories come faster. It became a roaring river and suddenly like a dam bursting the memories flooded back tumbling around in his mind, each one more painful than the last. He grabbed his head with in his hands and keened, rocking himself back and forth.

If someone asked him he wouldn't be able to say how long he sat there overwhelmed. He relived the horror of the recent events and took a long look at the downstream of his life. he Looked and comprehended what he saw with a clarity that he'd never had before. But he could say with certainty that it is a pity that it took torture and death for him to understand what his life had been about. That he had risen from his death, the way he had lived, and the way he had died. Alone. Isolated. Marginalized. A victim.

He could also say with certainty that no matter what happened from this moment on, he wasn't going to live the lies anymore, he wasn't going to play the game. He was through with it. He was a new man. He was different now. He had been changed, been broken or fixed, whichever one preferred. Things were going to change. He found .... acceptance ... somewhere in himself.

He was a vampire. Him, vampire hater extraordinaire. Nothing would or could change that now. He had been turned by Angelus. Insane hatred and rage rose up to smother him. He forced it down with a huge effort. Not now, but we'll get to it, he told it. It's funny how things look a lot different when it's personal. 

He sat there and deliberated a few more moments and then drug himself to his feet. Right then. First things first. He needed to feed. The aching hunger roaring through his body was distracting. He uncurled himself and listened to his surroundings, and heard nothing. He quietly rose from the floor and cautiously approached the open door of the bedroom and looked at the larger room beyond.

It was dark but that didn't matter, he could see very well. He realized his face had changed at some point and he was seeing with his demon's eyes. Cool, guess it would come in handy to see in the dark when that's when prey is hunted. He looked around carefully and moved into the room. He looked to his left and saw an old couch and then to his right.

The kitchen was what he wanted. He walked to the right and around a half wall. There was an old refrigerater there. Deadboy must have some blood around. He opened the door and a wave of cool air came out. Good, it was still cool. He spied containers on the top shelf and grabbed one taking the top off. The scent of blood hit his sensitive nose, and made his mouth water.

Right then. He scavenged a mug from a cupboard, poured blood into it and set it in the microwave and punched in the time. Then not able to wait any longer, as the microwave hummed, he put the container to his lips and shuddered even as he gulped the cold viscous liquid down. It soothed the fiery ache in his belly but it tasted wrong, nasty in fact. Because it's not human, he realized with a start. How can even that asshole stand this stuff?

The microwave dinged and he grabbed the mug and chugged it  down as well. The blood tasted better warm but not by much. He was still hungry so he returned to the refrigerator. He abandoned the mug, hunted for a large bowl and poured the whole container into it. He nuked it and drank it down, grabbing another container from the fridge even as he finished the bowl.

He'd keep drinking until he was satisfied or the blood ran out. He knew fledges required a lot of blood at first. He figured he must have drank about two quarts so far. So this container and maybe a couple more ought to hold him for a while.

Hunger satisfied, he strolled back through the kitchen and opened the next closed door. Bathroom. He suddenly smelled himself. Dried blood and semen, the stale odor of sweat clinging to his skin. He had an urge to scrub until his skin peeled off.

He quickly turned on the shower and stepped into a scorching hot spray. He ducked his head and let the water soak his lank sweat matted hair and had a flash back of ice cold water dripping from his head down his face.

Rage flared again, so hot and sudden it made his knees buckle. He caught himself on the wall of the shower leaning his forehead there for a moment. Not, now. We'll get to it He struggled with the rage and managed to push it back again and stood shakily. "Ahh sweet repression my old friend," he chuckled darkly at himself. He grabbed the shampoo sitting on the shelf and lathered his hair, and rinsed it clean and did it again. Then with a snort he grabbed the conditioner too.

Then he turned his attention to his body, fully aware that he'd been procrastinating. "I'm the poster vamp for repression and denial folks," he quipped. He filled his hand with the shower gel and began soaping his body looking at the marks left from his torture and feeling the ones he couldn't see.

He wasn't completely healed yet. There had been a lot of damage. His demon had healed the things he needed the most, when it took up residence. It left the bruises and other various marks as not life threatening or disabling. But the broken bones were healed completely. He'd have to see if they were healed straight. If not they'd have to be rebroken and set again. Wasn't that a lovely thought.

It was hard. One of the hardest things he'd ever done. He remembered what had happened to make every welt and bruise. When he finally got to his scrotum and cock he was surprised and grateful that they were not as sore as he thought they would be. He took a deep unneeded breath and looked down at himself.

There was nothing left but fading marks and some residual soreness. He cautiously ran soapy hands over his buttocks and cautiously slid figers into the crease running soapy fingers gently over his anus. The same story there. A little soreness but not the pain he'd expected.

Clean finally he turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and dried off as he wandered back to the bedroom. Clothes. That was next. He started opening drawers and found black silk boxers. Silk? He picked them up between two fingers and looked at them like they were a poisonous snake. But that was all that he could find. He sighed and pulled them on. Spike was going to call him a poof, he just knew it. He would never hear the end of it.

He quickly located an undershirt and the one pair of jeans in the armoire. The jeans were black of course, he snorted. They were just a bit large for him but they'd do. The black silk shirt was too large in the shoulders and a little too long in the arms, so he just rolled them up. He left the shirt tails out. Black cashmere socks, and a pair of black leather half boots and he was dressed. 

He went back to the main room and gingerly sat on the couch in the darkness. Now that he had finished all the things he could to distract himself. He had some thinking to do, some decisions and plans to make.

Part Nine

Okay. Xander took a deep breath and prepared to take the bull by the horns.

Xander knew he had been tortured for days and turned. He wasn't sure exactly how many days nor how long he was dead before rising. Keeping track had not been high on his list of priorities. He felt another spurt of anger/resentment/grief. He shook his head impatiently and pushed it down yet again. He didn't have time for that right now.

He knew he wasn't reacting like most fledges would, so the spell Giles had tattooed on him after the hyena possession must have worked. Hopefully it had anchored his soul.

He had gone to Giles privately after the hyena possession, appalled at his actions while he was possessed. He told Giles he remembered everything that had happened and that it would have been so much worse if he had been vamped. He specifically asked for a spell that would keep his soul in his body in the event he was turned.Something permanent and undetectable that couldn't be counteracted or screwed around with like Angel's curse.

Giles had looked at him with that piercing gaze of his, as if he could see his soul, weighing his motivations. He pulled off his glasses and slowly polished them as he considered the request. Then he had agreed but said it would take two or three days to get the ingredients required for a spell that complex. Three nights later he had met Giles at his apartment, and he had cast the spell. The tattoo had hurt like a bitch and had been tender for days after. He felt like the spell had hollowed him out with a flame thrower. He was kind of dazed for two or three days after that. Buffy and Willow thought it was the effects of banishing the hyena. He didn't correct their assumption.

The one thing Giles didn't know was the that the Hyena had still been present. She'd been powerless over his actions. She had been caged somehow. But she had been comforted by his presence and he just couldn't bring himself to banish her, in her loneliness and pain, because he understood it perfectly. She had evolved since then in a way, forced to by her painful loneliness and instincts for a pack. She had accepted him as pack after a long period of resistance. Then she'd been happier if she wasn't totally content with the situation.

Then there was the soldier. He hadn't been totally happy either. He had been trained to get the job done no matter how unpleasant. When he had an objective nothing could interfere. Emotions and relationships were a liability and a distraction. Therefore he couldn't afford emotional entanglements, he was an isolated loner, but not by choice. His suppressed need had been excruciating, and drove Xander to distraction. The Hyena had been ecstatic and pulled him into her pack kicking and screaming. So it had been just the three of them in his cozy multiple personality disordered head.  

Now there was a demon added to the mix. Oh joy. Just another piece of the weirdness that is the life of Xander.

He felt around in his head and almost panicked because he couldn't feel the other separate identities. All he got was impressions and echoes of contentment and satisfaction. The feelings were belonging, love and acceptance. It just felt right, so he had some conjectures about what had happened.  

When he died the hyena was freed from her cage. Since he was pack she must have grabbed onto his soul in panic. She was ancient and strong. He remembered her overwhelming strength during the possession. She did not understand that he wasn't going anywhere. She being a primal, mostly emotion and instinct, only understood that her small pack was threatened. She grabbed the soldier and hung onto him too. Then when the demon made an appearance, she latched onto it as well. Her determination to keep the pack together, and the desire of all them to belong, not to be alone, had actually merged them all together into some kind of hybrid.

The spell anchored or bound his soul to his body, so maybe it had affected everything inhabiting his body at the time. That would mean that maybe the hyena and soldier were souls, or pieces of souls. Maybe the spell had seen them as fragments of a whole and had pushed them all together and bound them into his body as one. He just didn't know.

He sighed and shook his head. It was far out and insane but it was a  partial explanation. Maybe.

Then there were The Powers that Fuck Us. He considered for a moment. It was possible that they interfered in some way and merged him and the demon with the other two permanently. He really didn't think they could have been separated from him, as long as they had been there, not without some major damage anyway. They had become part of him. His demon didn't seem to have any objections or regrets, going by the vague contented echoes he got from it.

Then there were the dark powers. Would they have passed up a chance to interfere? He knew each demon was different. Could they have arranged for a more intelligent demon to take up residence in him, a close confidant of a slayer, one on the inside of her tight group? Someone who knew from experience how Slayers and Watchers worked? Someone who also knew the group in LA?

Either way if one or both of them had interfered, they hadn't planned on the presence of hyena or the soldier. They probably were ignorant of the spell tattooed over his heart also. He had asked Giles to make the tattoo invisible and undetectable so there wouldn't be any awkward questions. And he probably hadn't even registered on their radar at the time the time the spell was cast.

Getting that much halfway worked out in his head made him feel somewhat better. Now he could move on to other things.

He had no idea how long Angelus had been gone, and when he would return. He vaguely recalled Angelus saying something about an appointment with a beast. That was only thanks to the soldier, who had been trained to observe and remember under all conditions and  endure torture in Spec Ops. He sent a grateful thought and got an wave of pack, pride, and affection back. He had endured and survived sort of. He snorted.

He took stock of the situation. He didn't know how strong he was now. He had no weapons and he didn't know Angelus' whereabouts.  He needed a plan and a way to immobilize or trap the crafty sonofabitch.

He wouldn't know how strong he was until he was doing. He would just have to be careful not to overestimate his abilities.

Weapons? That was more easily addressed. There was a whole city out there and he had the credit card Giles had given him before he left.  A credit card from the blown up council. He laughed softly at the irony.

Okay, with those objectives set, it was time to get busy.

He got off the couch and made his way to the sewer entrance, then hesitated and turned back. He entered the bedroom again and emerged with a long black leather duster "trophy," he smirked.  He slid it on and shrugged to settle it across his shoulders. Then he caressed a butter soft sleeve and thought with satisfaction. If it's  good enough for Spike, it's good enough for me.  

He jumped down into the sewers landing softly without a noise. This  time his change to game face was a conscious effort. He experimented for several moments and felt the change like an odd non muscular kind of control. He reached up and ran fingers over the new geography of his face and fingered his fangs. "I want to suck your blood." he muttered in a terrible accent, giggled, and accidentally speared a finger with a fang. "That's an ow. These things are a menace." He looked around self consciously, at his punctured digit then he stuck his injured finger in his mouth and sucked on it.

He could see details in  the tunnel as though it were daylight. He took his finger out of his mouth and drew air over his palate and into his nasal cavities scenting the air. Then he cocked his head listening. The sewer was a rank mixture of odors that almost sent him reeling. He steadied himself with a hand against the side of the tunnel and after a moment or so it became more bearable. He didn't hear anything close.

Okay, so first order of business get the car and his wallet.

He moved silently down the tunnel and stopped at the next manhole. Swiftly climbing the ladder he pushed the cover up a sliver and peeped out. Things couldn't have been situated better. He wasn't under the Hyperion anymore but he could see it. It was still dark outside. He pushed the cover out of the way and climbed out, scenting, looking and listening. He couldn't detect anything that might want to take a bite out of him.

He ran for the car and snatched open the back door and reached into the back floorboard for the jacket. He shook it free of glass and reached into the pocket and grabbed his wallet and slammed the door. He reached under the bumper for the magnetic box that held the spare keys and grabbed it, then he snatched open the front door and slid in tossing the jacket on the seat as he jammed the key into the ignition and started the car. He threw the car into gear, stomped the gas pedal to the floor and squealed away from the Hyperion.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he tore down the street, looking for a telephone booth.

He made several turns and when he was satisfied that he was far enough away that he wouldn't be spotted by anyone who knew him or by Angelus, he pulled up beside a telephone booth. He pulled up to it with the driver's door closest, left the engine running and stepped out of the car. He grabbed the telephone book and gave it a wrench and it came loose with the screech of tearing metal. He stood in shock looking at the tear in the wall for a moment then shook it off and flung himself back in the car. He turned on the interior light and began looking for what he needed.

Part Ten

Xander crouched behind a huge wooden crate in the very back of the warehouse and gripped the tranq gun tighter. He didn't want to reveal himself unless it was absolutely necessary. He was surprised when Faith showed up. The LA group must have retrieved her from prison to deal with Angelus. He listened as Angelus taunted Faith, playing fucking mind games with her.  Then "Honey, I brought a guest home for dinner,"  he taunted in that smug conceited voice and he laughed, " let's eat."

The Beast appeared and he knew she hadn't planned on fighting The Beast and Angelus alone. This was one of Angelus' convoluted plans. But she recovered from the surprise nicely and did what a Slayer does. Faith attacked the Beast not even making a dent, but she kept on fighting anyway. Xander knew this might be the one opponent that would have one good night and be the death of the dark haired Slayer as he beat her to her knees with Angelus making snide comments from the sidelines. He listened as the Beast stomped on her and kicked her around. He derided Faith for being weak and ineffective as she lay on the concrete battered and bloody and looked up at him.

He listened as Angelus, ever treacherous, did his best work. He stabbed The Beast in the back with the knife made from his own bones just before he could finish Faith off.

Angelus' voiced his disgust that the sun was shining again. He told Faith he wanted The Beast to soften her up because he liked his meat nice and tender. The bastard. He wouldn't mess with anyone as strong as he was or stronger. Xander's lip curled in derision. He only wanted to bully those who were much weaker.

From what he'd read in Giles' books. Liam had indulged in excess of all kinds including violence, before he was turned. When he was turned the demon magnified those traits out of proportion and with no conscience to hold him back, he was just another bully with a demon's strength and blood hunger. The insanity and rage from being trapped with a guilty conscience for so long had pushed him into the realms of extreme cruelty and blood lust.

But the dark Slayer still had a trick up her sleeve it seemed. She grabbed an overhead pully, as she sat there bloodied and bruised, pulled herself to her feet, and flung it at the large windows of the warehouse. They broke in a spectacular crash and sunlight streamed into the warehouse and all around her. Angelus had to do some hotfooting to keep from getting fried. The overconfident prick. He almost gave himself away then. He wanted to applaud and cheer her on and almost, almost jumped up and did that. But he remembered what he was about just in time.

He heard Angelus tell Faith he'd take a rain check on that whole eviscerating her thing and that it was just him and her now. And he turned his back on her and started his walk back through the darkened warehouse throwing over his shoulder that he'd catch her later.

Xander waited until he was almost at the sewer entrance and raised the silenced tranq gun and shot the first dart into Angelus' ass. Angelus whirled with a snarl and grabbed at the dart, pulled it out and looked at it. He searched the darkness with yellow eyes for his attacker. His eyes widened when they landed on Xander and he gaped in surprise. Xander pulled the trigger twice more and watched two more large darts sprout from his chest. Then the "Great Angelus" folded quietly down to the floor like a deflated balloon.

Xander quickly threaded his way between crates and found the unconscious form of Angelus. He'd paused long enough to hear Wesley come in and help Faith out of the warehouse. He grabbed the limp body up and slung it over his shoulder and dropped into the sewers. He jogged quickly to where he left his carry all. He laid the body down and broke out the magicked restraints. A muzzle, with a metal bit and tongue piece built in, A waist restraint made of heavy leather, with wide leather cuffs and groin straps attached. And heavy leather ankle cuffs that were attached by chains to a short bar with leather knee cuffs at each end.

He cut Angelus' clothes off and he quickly fitted the muzzle in place shoving the metal tongue bar and bit into place. Then he put the waist restraint down and flipped Angelus onto it and secured each wrist before pulling it tight and buckling at his back.

Then he fitted the knee cuffs, buckling them behind the thigh and the ankle cuffs bucking them around the ankles. He then pulled out a wide leather collar with D rings scattered on it here and there and fitted it around the bastard's neck. He attached two heavy chains from two D rings on the front of the collar to the waist restraint loosely for ease of transport. He then attached two more chains from the D rings at the bottom of the waist restraint to fittings on the knee cuffs on each leg. He rolled Angelus over and repeated the procedure on the backside.

He pulled the leather groin straps between the legs tightly and buckled them at the back of the waist restraint as well. Last of all he took the straps dangling from the muzzle and buckled them to the collar front, side and back. He heaved a sigh of relief, sat back and looked at the job he had completed.

He had not been really sure how long the tranquilizer would be effective even though he had been assured by the demon that sold it to him that it would work very well on vampires. He had acquired the magicked restraints from the same demon, they were rated for a demon much stronger than a vampire and had cost a little more but they were worth it. The demon thought he was on his honeymoon. He threw in a large size clay jar of some kind of lube for free with a wink and and a snicker. He also looked xander up and down and hinted that he wouldn't say no to a threesome.

It hadn't been hard at all to find everything he wanted and more besides. He even picked up several very rare books for a song to give to Giles. He had purchased several other magical items as well, including a map that you could locate anyone, any place, or anything on no matter what magics they tried to use to hide. It seemed as though that map was made by the Sidhe and their magic worked differently. He bought nearly everything that demon had shown him, even some things that he didn't recognize.

There were particularly interesting weapons, and some sets of very thin extremely light chain mail. The demon had one hung on a mannequin and amused himself by shooting it with everything under the sun and showed that nothing had penetrated it. Then he stabbed it and slashed it, hacked it with an axe, and thrown spears at it. He even used a pole to pound it ferociously. He took the undamaged chain mail off and the mannequin underneath was completely unharmed.

He knew all the stuff was probably looted but the owners were probably dead, eaten by some demon or turned. He got most of what he had from demons selling stuff on the street. They had set up temporary booths downtown on the sidewalks and in shattered storefronts. It had been an interesting experience to say the least. The whole city was a demon free for all now. A lot of demons from out of town had come to here to stay in the city of perpetual dark. He laughed in amusement as he wondered briefly how big the mass exodus would be after nightfall.

He stretched hard, popping the vertebrae in his spine and stood. He gazed down at the unconscious body of Angelus and reached down and picked him up and slung him back over his shoulder and then picked up his carry all. He threaded his way through the sewer toward his temporary hiding place. He had business to take care of, and paybacks truly are a bitch.

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