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Broken Like Glass
by Claire

Looking over at the still unmade bed, Spike growled softly to himself. He should never have let Xander leave, not with... *him* out there. He knew Angel was in Sunnydale; he could sense the elder vampire's closeness, like little ripples of electricity running over his skin. He drummed his fingers against the side of the chair impatiently, the sound echoing around the room. Spike was all too aware of his sire's fixation with Xander, he'd seen it blossom from one night's moment of fun when the other vampire couldn't find Buffy to taunt, to the obsessive levels of staking one of the younger vampires for daring to just *look* at the boy wrongly. But he was also aware of the fact that it was *Angelus* who had seduced the boy with silken whispers of pain and not Angel, who had all but ignored Xander since his return from Hell. Angelus who had offered murmurs of beautiful agony, Angelus who had promised that pleasure would always hurt, and Angelus who had let Spike watch it all...
Resting his hand on the back of Spike's wheelchair, Angelus slowly rubbed his thumb up and down the back of his childe's neck. "Isn't he beautiful," he murmured.
Spike looked over at the body against the wall. Arms chained taut above him and sweat running down his marred back, Spike had to admit that Xander *was* a beautiful sight.
Angelus' thumb took one last pass at Spike's neck before his sire walked back over to the trembling mortal. "Beautiful, wanting... and mine."
Spike fought to keep his expression neutral when he heard the possessive tone of Angelus' voice. It looked like the other vampire would be creating another childe before long.
Angelus turned and started murmuring to Xander, oblivious to Spike's thoughts. "You're like a tapestry to be picked apart and re-made how *I* desire." Lifting a hand, the elder vampire dragged his fingertips over a patch of untouched skin. "No, not a tapestry, a *canvas*," he decided. "A canvas for my art." He danced a finger down Xander's broken skin. "A splash of red here." He ran a nail along a welt on Xander's back. "Maybe some purple." He pressed a darkening bruise on Xander's ass, smiling when the boy whimpered in pain, even though he was arching into the touch. "And finally some black to set it all off." Picking up the whip from where he'd dropped it, Angelus trailed the leather strands across Xander's back.
Spike grinned. "I can't wait 'til the Slayer finds out about this." He could just see the chit's face when Angelus told her exactly what her friend had been doing at night.
"She's not going to find out." Angelus spoke softly. "Because we're not going to tell her."
Spike frowned. "Why?" They *had* to tell the blonde annoyance. She'd never be able to trust the boy again if she found out that he was being beaten and fucked by her worst enemy and loving it. It was the perfect opportunity to break the support system she had.
Angelus glared at him. "I have my reasons, Spike," he snapped. 
Recognising the tone of his sire's voice, Spike nodded. If Angelus had decided the Slayer wasn't to know, then the Slayer wasn't going to know. Reigning in his anger, Spike resisted the urge to hit the wheelchair. If it wasn't for that bloody chair then it wouldn't matter what the older vampire said. Peaches had lost the right to demand of him the moment soulboy had entered the scene. Spike was used to life without a sire to order him about, and he wasn't about to go back to being a whipping-boy for the Slayer's ex-lapdog. Saying that, though, with Angelus' new obsession around, it wasn't going to be *him* who was going to be the whipping boy.
Focusing his attention back on the mortal, Angelus released the catch on the cuffs that chained Xander to the wall, watching him as he slid bonelessly to the floor. Crouching down next to him, Angelus brushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair from Xander's forehead. "So beautiful," he murmured, before standing back up and walking away.
Spike watched his sire's retreat from the room, the footfalls heavy in the silence of the mansion. Keeping his gaze on the door until the steps had faded into nothingness, Spike turned to Xander, blue eyes meeting pools of brown that were tinged with both satiation and pain. His cock twitched as he followed a bead of blood that ran down Xander's thigh and mixed with the sweat that lay on the boy's skin. It was a good job Angelus wasn't here; if his sire had seen his reaction to Xander's prone form he'd realise that Spike wasn't being completely truthful about the state of his injuries and just how quickly he was recovering from them. Once he was back to his old self, Spike was going to be more than ready to take Angelus down. He had planned on turning the Slayer; a vampire with the strength of a Slayer would be more than a match for his sire, and he could have easily killed her afterwards. But now... Spike grinned coldly. Fuck the Slayer, he had a better idea about how to get back at Angelus for everything the bastard had done since he'd come back.
Xander's gaze dropped as Spike continued to leer at him. 
Oh yeah, thought the vampire. This was a *much* better idea. All he had to do was wait for the right time...
But the right time had never come. Everything had gone haywire, and the next thing Spike had known he was driving out of Sunnydale with an unconscious Drusilla in the passenger seat.
And then Dru had left him - for a sodding *mucas* demon - and he had found himself back in Sunnydale with a chip in his head and more of a lapdog to the Slayer than Peaches ever had been.
Spike grimaced. If someone had told him a year ago that he'd be helping the Slayer instead of killing her, he would have laughed at them. Well, either that or rip their heart out and feed it to them, which ever he was feeling like at the time. Mind you, there was one good thing about being in Sunnyhell. Spike's cock hardened as he thought about Xander; the submissive curve of the boy's back when he was on his knees, the breathy whimpers he made when Spike thrust into him.
"Fuck it!" Spike muttered, pushing himself to his feet and absently lighting a cigarette. Growling impatiently, he started to pace around the room, refusing to think about why he wasn't out there looking for Angel and telling him to keep his sodding hands off Xander. Refusing to acknowledge the need he had to know if Xander would return of his own accord, or if he would disappear with Angel. Spike's growling increased a notch. It didn't help when everywhere he looked there were memories of his sire. But then, that was what you got for living in the same place your sire had for the years he'd been in Sunnydale.
Spike had moved into Angel's mansion straight after the Adam fiasco. Every demon and his aunt knew which crypt Spike had been living in and the vampire was sick of having the place trashed by those who thought he was betraying his own kind. Angel's old place had been standing empty and Spike figured the least the ponce owed him was somewhere to live. So he'd taken one last look at the decimated crypt, slipped his spare pack of fags into his duster and moved into the mansion. He'd barely been there a week when Xander had turned up at the door one night...
Spike lifted his head as the sound of footsteps got closer to the mansion. A catalogue of scents pricked at the back of his nose, allowing him to identify the mortal now standing in the doorway. "Harris."
"What's up? Must be important for the Slayer to let you wander around at night by yourself."
"This has nothing to do with Buffy," Xander bristled. "And I can take care of myself."
Spike had no doubt of that. Not while Angelus' scent still permeated the boy's own. It had been over a year and Spike could still clearly smell his sire every time Xander walked into a room. And, even though he had regained his soul again, most demons on the Hellmouth still feared Angelus enough to leave a mortal clearly marked as his alone. "What do you want, Xander?" he asked.
Xander stepped further into the mansion. "Do you remember the last time we were in this room?"
Spike hardened instantly at the memory of Xander's submissive form and the marks that had covered his body. Not saying anything, the vampire tracked Xander as he walked to the far side of the room, slowly trailing his hand along the wall, stopping when he reached the manacles that still hung down. Running his fingers over the metal, Xander's tongue darted out to wet his lips.
Turning back to the wall, Xander reached out and opened one of the manacles, carefully fastening it over his wrist, the click ringing loudly in the silence of the mansion. A second followed as the manacle's partner was fastened around Xander's other wrist.
Unable to stand it any longer, Spike closed the distance between the two of them, pressing Xander's body further into the wall, his hard cock pushing into the boy's hip. "What's this, pet? You decide I needed a reward for playin' nice these past months?"
Xander didn't answer. Instead, he slowly tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck to Spike's gaze.
Spike's eyes narrowed as he leant down and whispered in the boy's ear. "A word to the wise. Playin' 'taunt the vampire' is never a good idea in the position you're in."
"Want you to," came the breathy reply. 
Spike looked at the offered neck. Hearing the blood rushing through the body he was pressed against, Spike felt his fangs drop. Why the hell not? The chip only hit him if he caused pain, and Xander *wanted* this. Maybe... just maybe. Lowering his head, he licked at a patch of skin before fastening his mouth over it and slowly sinking his teeth in...
Oh yeah, Spike grinned reminiscently, Sunnydale definitely had *something* going for it. The grin faded into a frown. And now that something was out on the streets somewhere. And Angel was back in town. What he didn't know was *why* Angel had come back, although he could have a bloody good guess. He knew all about the stupid cow who had slipped his sire a Mickey and caused Angelus to reappear. Wesley the Wuss had rung Giles to tell him what had happened, who had proceeded to tell the Slayer and her little friends in case it ever happened again and they needed to be prepared. The prat of an ex-Watcher had never thought what the words might mean to the vampire who had been sitting in the corner at the time, and he certainly didn't know what they *would* mean to the boy sitting on the arm of the chair the witch was sitting in; the boy whose heart rate had suddenly jumped and eyes dilated to near black. Spike could still remember the haunted mixture of despair and hope in Xander's eyes when the words had come from the Watcher's mouth: Angelus came back. The blond's world had narrowed to him and Xander as the words had echoed around, hanging between them. Angelus came back, the words that could mean salvation for one and damnation for the other. Question was, which one did he mean for Spike? It seemed too bloody coincidental that Angel should turn up now, especially since there was no reason for him to be there - no apocalypses needed averting, no demons needed thwarting, no dire prophecies needed stopping, no fucking reason for soulboy to be anywhere near Sunnyhell at all.
Sucking the last of the acrid smoke from his cigarette into his lungs, Spike flicked the stub out of his fingers to join the others already littering the floor. Continuing to pace, Spike muttered to himself about pansy-arsed vampires who should stay the fuck away from where they weren't wanted. Cursing violently, Spike kicked at a table, watching with satisfaction as it skidded along the floor and crashed into the wall. When all this had started it was just a way of getting part of himself back. He may have been chipped, but he was still the Big, Bad and fucking with one of the Slayer's friends, especially when said friend *begged* to be fucked with, was too good an opportunity to miss. He had no idea when it had all changed. Damn Angelus for starting this game... and damn himself for continuing it. Well, he'd had enough, it was about time Angel learnt just who Xander belonged to... belonged with.
Grabbing his duster from where he'd draped it over a chair, Spike strode towards the door, stopping suddenly as he heard someone outside the mansion.
The scent hit him as soon as the boy walked through the door - Xander, blood and... Spike dropped the duster to the floor and was over by Xander in an instant. "Where is he?"
Xander looked at him wearily, knowing who Spike meant without having to ask. "I have no idea."
"You've been with him. I can smell him all over you." 
"And now I'm here." Xander's head dropped. "Spike, Angel is..." A small laugh escaped the boy's throat. "Angel is *Angel*, and he's not who I want."
Spike didn't call Xander on the fact that he hadn't said who he *did* want. "And now you're here," he said, repeating Xander's words.
Xander nodded. 
With a slow grin crossing his face Spike took Xander's hand and started to lead him towards the bed. Xander was *his*, and no jumped-up nancy-boy of a sire was going to take him away.
Reaching the bed, Spike dropped down, pulling Xander on top of him. "You're mine, Xan-pet," he hissed, roughly tangling his fingers in the boy's hair. "Peaches is never having you back, you hear me."
Looking deeply into the intense blue gaze, Xander reached out a hand and slowly traced the ridges that ran across Spike's forehead. "Yeah," he said softly, "I hear you."