Nexus Chapter 15
Hell´s Gods and all their demons!
Theoretically, vampires didn´t get hangovers, but Angelus woke feeling very much the worse for wear. In spite of all the intervening years, he was forcibly reminded of rough mornings he´d endured long ago as a mortal, hard–drinking wastrel that he´d been. Long ago as it was, he remembered the wisdom of lying very still until he´d taken an inventory.
His memory of the eighteenth century, he found, was much clearer than his memory of the recent past. His mind and recall were clouded, disoriented; it would take a little study to place his wheres and whens. And his mouth tasted like the inside of a slime demon. He´d been on quite a bender, it seemed; the last several days were very hazy indeed. Apparently, even a good Irish head for whiskey was no match for Fyarlian brandy. He was contemplating a little hair o´ the dog, when two circumstances filtered into his muddled consciousness.
First, it felt like it was barely past noon. Second––no doubt why he was awake at this hour––his claimed lay trembling in his arms, heart pounding, fear and suffering coming off him in waves. What ailed the boy? A few faint memories of the past week wandered back, and Angelus felt the beginnings of real uneasiness. Had he really been that hard on the lad? Mother o´ God, he´d have amends to make. He reluctantly put aside thoughts of Fyarlian brandy for now. Better to lay off it until he got things in order.
Angelus gingerly propped himself up on one elbow to see to his boy, and his shoulder brushed something cold and metallic draped over the headboard. What in the hell? Chains? The vampire´s hand closed around them, and the first fragment of memory of the night before came rushing back, hitting him like a bullet.
Oh, fuck.
At Angelus´ first move, Xander´s body had gone rigid. When he heard the chains rattle, the boy sent one terrified glance back over his shoulder, then bent over the side of the bed, retching.
Fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Angelus lay frozen with shock. First, he´d been stunned at the sight of his boy´s battered face. Then, when he bent over to vomit, the sheet pulled away. Xander´s back was welted, and the boy´s buttocks were a mess, black with bruises, marked with bloody stripes, with a liberal smear of blood both dried and fresh between them.
With each injury he saw, a new memory knifed into him. Fuck, what had he done? Shocked into sobriety, Angelus rolled off his side of the bed and dashed around it to try to help his boy.
When he got close, though, Xander covered the back of his head with one forearm, pitifully trying to protect himself and puke at the same time. Angelus trembled. The boy was vomiting up nothing but water and! Angelus sniffed. Semen, bile, and blood. The vampire´s knees weakened as he contemplated the possibility that Xander was bleeding inside. His eyes fell on the hideous gag lying nearby, and he dimly remembered that he had made Xander wear it for days at a time. Shit! How did he eat or drink? He didn´t, that´s how. The vampire clutched the bed for support, staggering under the burden of unfamiliar emotions––fear, shame, self–loathing––and the terrible realization that he had come within a hairsbreadth of torturing his claimed to death.
There was something else; his conscious mind fought to suppress it, but, the unmistakable scent of his childe wouldn´t let him. A loathsome vision rose into his mind´s eye, and he staggered backward in anguish. He had let Spike have Xander.
His defenses crumbling, the anger and fear and pride that had led him to deny the natural instincts of the bond claim evaporated, swept away by a proud man´s shame at having lost control, and an overwhelming, all–consuming compulsion to comfort and protect his claimed.
Xander finally stopped dry heaving and collapsed limply back on the bed. Angelus went to the door and spoke softly, issuing a series of instructions to Chip. Beginning to remember that only Chip´s courageous intervention had kept Xander fed, he could barely meet the minion´s eye, but he couldn´t miss the loyal servant´s intense relief at his returning sanity. Humbled, he moved slowly toward the bed. Xander had lowered himself painfully to the floor and was trying with trembling hands to clean up the mess with a towel. He looked up and saw Angelus´ approach and scrambled to complete the task.
“I´m sorry. I didn´t mean to! I´ll get it cleaned up.” The boy´s posture vividly displayed the worst of his injuries. Mute with misery, Angelus shook his head and gestured for the boy to stop.
“I´ll do anything you say.” Xander´s voice was hoarse, as though his throat were raw. Angelus felt a cold wash of despair. Between his pride and the damn Fyarlian brandy, Angelus had let himself forget how much he treasured his boy´s devotion, and his spirit. Now both were gone. The affection in Xander´s eyes had been replaced by fear and despair, and he shied timidly when Angelus got close to him.
“I´ll do anything. You don´t have to teach me anymore lessons.” The boy´s voice was lifeless, broken. “Do you want me to suck your cock? Want to fuck me?” Already on his knees, Xander dropped his head to the floor, presenting his bloodied backside.
Angelus closed his eyes against a wave of agony as he recovered more of his memory of the night before. The last thing he remembered was kneeling over Xander, raping his bleeding mouth.
“I´ll do anything, master.” The rasping little voice was growing frantic.
Angelus realized with a start that he was further terrorizing the youth, standing frowning down at him. Moving slowly, he reached down and lifted his boy gently, set him back on the bed and stroked the damp hair away from Xander´s forehead. “It´s alright now, Xander. You don´t have to be afraid.”
Xander stared back at him with an expression of dull, confused disbelief. Moving very slowly, Angelus sat on the bed beside Xander, who now sat with downcast eyes. “Xander.” Angelus lifted Xander´s chin gently. “You didn´t believe me when I said you didn´t have to be afraid, did you?”
Xander stared at him wide–eyed, clearly afraid of giving the wrong answer.
“It´s alright, Xander. You can tell the truth.”
Finally, Xander shook his head jerkily.
“You can talk, Xander. You don´t have to be silent anymore.”
“Okay.” Just a whisper.
“You hurt, don´t you?”
Xander nodded hesitantly.
“Talk to me, okay, Xander?”
“I´m sorry, master!”
“Shh. It´s alright, I´m not mad. I just want to know about how you feel.” He stroked the boy´s hair again.
The boy´s fingers were twisting desperately in the sheets. “I! I don´t understand. I don´t know what I´m supposed to say.” His expression was pleading.
“Whatever you say, you won´t get in trouble.” The demon promised softly.
Xander looked at him blankly, then suddenly, began to cry weakly. “I feel really, really awful” he whimpered softly. Angelus was well aware that he wasn´t only referring to his physical state.
Infinitely gentle now, the vampire drew the boy into his arms, crooning softly to him, rocking him a little. “I´m going to make it okay, sweet. I´m going to make you feel better.” Xander held himself stiffly within the vampire´s embrace. Apparently, trust was going to take some time to re–establish.
“Sweet, can ye tell me if ye hurt inside, like maybe ye´re hurt internally?”
Xander, depleted in body and soul, shook his head uncertainly, struggled sluggishly to make sense of what was happening. Why was Angelus being so nice? His eyes rested on the bottle on the table. Didn´t matter, did it? Soon as he picked up that bottle, the nightmare would be back. He flickered a quick glance up at the vampire´s face to find it shadowed with melancholy remorse. Suddenly, Xander thought he understood––*I´ll even pretend to be Angel for you*––and he gasped, stunned all over again at Angelus´ capacity for cruelty.
Someone tapped softly on the bedroom door, and Angelus rose to open it. More low murmuring, then he returned with a steaming mug in hand. He sat beside Xander on the bed and held the mug to his lips, trying to coax the boy to drink a little. Xander looked at it suspiciously, then smelled it––chicken soup. The irony. A demon spends a coupla weeks terrorizing the shit out of him, then morphs overnight into his grandma. Xander´s heart was suddenly flooded with bitterness, anger briefly trumping the terror that had become second nature.
He shoved the vampire´s hand away so abruptly that only Angelus´ superior reflexes saved the soup from spilling. Instantly, the terror came flooding back and Xander cringed, expecting swift reprisal. Angelus studied him for a quiet moment, then turned his head and shouted for Chip; at the edge of his peripheral vision, he saw Xander shrink further at the sound of his raised voice.
Instantly, the door opened just far enough to the minion to stick his head in the room. “Yes, Master?”
The vampire´s voice was clipped. “I want you to take the case of brandy that you´ll find in the bottom of the wardrobe. Here´s the key. Take the bottle on the table, as well. Pour it all down the drain. Don´t delegate this job. Do it yourself, I´ll stay with the boy. Don´t turn your back on that brandy, I don´t want it out of your sight until the job´s done. And don´t let anyone talk you into giving them any of it, or I´ll have your head.”
Carefully hiding a smile, the servant bobbed his head in understanding. Darting in, he gathered up the brandy and hurried back out, sketching a quick bow before pulling the door closed behind him.
Angelus turned to find Xander staring at him wide–eyed, naked relief and the first glimmer of hope in his expression. “It´s over now, sweetling. I need ye to drink some o´ this soup.” The vampire kept his voice low, soothing.
Xander ignored the soup, continuing to look wistfully up at the vampire. Angelus could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to believe. The vampire very gingerly extended a protective arm around the boy´s shoulders, aware of his injuries. Looking deeply into the sad, brown eyes, he spoke slowly and firmly. “Xander, it´s over. I willna hurt ye like this again. Ye have my word.”
Xander searched the vampire´s face suspiciously for a few seconds. The boy was obviously questioning the value of a Master Vampire´s word, a crime against honor punishable by death in their culture. It said a great deal about the vampire´s wretched state of mind that it never occurred to him to be angry. Finally, Xander registered the return of Angelus´ accent, which, now that he thought of it, had hardly been in evidence at all for the last several days. Somehow, the realization was a confirmation for Xander; Angelus saw relief, tinged with wonder, wash over Xander´s expressive features, then the boy slumped into the sheltering embrace, his head finally resting against the demon´s shoulder. Angelus´ eyes slid closed and he buried his face in the boy´s dark hair for a moment.
Finally, by way of patient coaxing, he got about half the mug of broth down the boy before a second knock brought a glass of milk and a bottle of prescription painkillers, procured from the ever–resourceful Willy at the bar. He fed one to Xander, and got him to drink most of the milk.
Angelus sat and watched as Xander rallied a little, stroking his boy´s hair (the only part of him virtually without injury) and reflecting. He told himself that he had been looking at things all wrong. He was one of the most feared vampires on the continent, maybe in the world, he rationalized. So what if he spoiled his pet? Who would dare laugh, even behind his back? He liked his boy affectionate and responsive, and being nice to him was the way to keep him that way. After all, it was just another form of manipulation, and wasn´t he famous for that?
Bullshit. Angelus was too shaken to deceive himself for long. He had always called vampires who fell under the thrall of humans fools. Well, then, he was a fool. Xander was his, and he would make him whole again and win back his trust.
Glad to have the thing settled in his mind, he noticed the very first signs of drowsiness in Xander and stood, reaching for the boy´s hand. “Don´t fall asleep yet, Pretty. I want you to have a bath first. It´ll make you feel better.” And I can´t bear the smell of Spike on you another moment, he thought, tortured anew at the memory.
Supported by the vampire´s strong arms, Xander tottered to his feet, moaning softly as the strained muscles in his hips and thighs screamed a protest. Immediately, Angelus picked him up, cradling him as gently as he could. Xander whimpered softly at the pressure of the vampire´s arms on the welts on his back and thighs. He tried to wrap his arms around Angelus´ neck, only to find that that hurt, too. Following instinct, Angelus began to purr softly, and Xander, immensely comforted by the sound, relaxed and buried his face in the vampire´s neck.
The minions had already filled the tub, and within moments, Angelus was lowering Xander into a warm bath. On the vampire´s orders, the bottom of the tub had been layered with thick soft towels to cushion his battered body. Still, the boy hissed at the pressure on his sore skin. Afraid that a washcloth would feel too rough, Angelus used his bare hands to smooth liquid soap over the bruised and broken skin.
He knew how to be very gentle; any Master who ever sired a childe did. Of course, gentleness had never been Angelus´ favorite way of controlling his childer, but there were times when nothing else would do. Now, kneeling by the tub in the cramped bathroom, he washed his traumatized claimed as tenderly as any mother ever bathed a newborn.
“Close your eyes, pretty.” After one last suspicious, sidelong look, Xander closed his eyes, tilting his face up. Angelus stroked tender, soapy fingers over the temporarily misshapen features, swamped in unfamiliar remorse. Xander looked like he´d lost a prizefight, and the little bit of skin that wasn´t cut or bruised was covered with his dried seed. Angelus purred as he cleaned it away, scooping up water in his cupped hand to rinse the soap away.
As he worked his way cautiously over his boy´s damaged skin, he cataloged the number and severity of his injuries, sick with regret as he remembered inflicting each one.
Things were looking up for Xander. The painkiller that Angel had given him was turning out to be amazingly effective; between that and the freakiness that was Nursemaid!Angelus, Xander felt like he had been transported into The Twilight Zone. And, considering his weirdness tolerance, that was saying a lot. But it was one of the fun episodes, for once.
By the time they were ten minutes into the bath, the pain and despair of the last week had been temporarily drowned in a warm tide of euphoria, and Xander was feeling no pain whatsoever. Wasn´t really feeling his toes, either, until Angelus began to wash them and Xander, suddenly ticklish, dissolved into helpless giggles.
“Ye´re stoned!” Angelus felt the first tentative lift in his spirits. Then, his fingers passed over the bite on the tender instep. Xander flinched. The vampire went still, grieving. “Xander, sweetling. I´m sorry. I dinna mean! ” Angelus stopped, swallowing heavily. Xander, awed by hearing an apology from the demon, stopped squirming to blink owlishly at him.
Angelus picked up Xander´s other foot and the boy was off again, giggling and twitching in the big, careful hands until the vampire decided that foot was quite clean enough and placed it gently back down on the soft nest of toweling. He smiled sadly. “Ye really are high. I guess that´s a good thing, but I think the next time we´ll break those pills in half.
Angelus knee–walked closer to the head of the tub and reached for the shampoo. A pitcher sat nearby, and he filled it from the tap. Then he turned his attention back to the boy, who was now pouting prettily at him as best he could with his battered features.
“What, dearling?” he asked hoarsely.
“You stopped.” Xander complained.
“Stopped what? Tickling you?”
“NO! You stopped purring.”
Xander was playing. That was good. He‘d play too; maybe that would help. “I do NOT purr. Here, tilt your head back, and close your eyes. That is a growl, for your information, and I don´t do it on demand.”
Xander obediently let the vampire pour the water over his hair. As soon as that was done, though, he was back with the eyes, and the tragic expression. Whatever they were going to call it (and Xander was privately sure that it was a purr, not a growl), Xander loved it. He had only heard it that once before the night of the bond claim thingy, but after that, for a while, he heard it quite often. There was the “seduce Xander” purr, the “cheer Xander up” purr, and the ever–popular nightly “lull Xander to sleep” purr.
It worked on Xander like a drug, invariably making him feel secure, peaceful, and cherished. He figured it was due to the claim, the way it affected him. When everything changed, after the night he went to Spike and Drusilla´s room, Angelus stopped purring, and Xander had missed it terribly. Xander had got through the worst of what had followed by imagining himself in the vampire´s arms, being held gently and purred to. When he heard that purr as Angelus carried him to the bathroom, that´s when he really began to hope that HIS Angelus was back.
Angelus poured shampoo into his palm and began to wash Xander´s hair. It felt good, apparently; the boy´s eyes drifted shut and it looked like HE would purr, if he could. The way he leaned into Angelus´ hands made it impossible to hold out any longer. He let the! growl! rumble up from his chest. Instantly a little self–satisfied smirk appeared on his boy´s face.
“Insufferable brat.” The vampire´s tone was caressing. “Tilt your head back again.” Angelus rinsed Xander´s hair, careful not to get soap in his eyes. “Right, then. I think ye´re as clean as your gonna get. Up y´ go.” He hoisted Xander up, supporting him with one arm while he wrapped him in a big Turkish towel, then swinging him up into his arms.
A few minutes later, Xander, still high as a kite, was enthroned on Angelus´ knee in front of the fire, nibbling on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while the vampire patted him dry with the towel. In spite of the vampire´s caution, he noticed that a few of the worst of the welts on Xander´s back, softened by the water, had begun to ooze blood.
Frowning, Angelus shifted forward a little to lick at the closest one. “We need to see to some of these wounds.”
Swallowing the last of his sandwich, Xander squirmed blissfully at the cool touch. “That mean you´re going to lick it and make it better?”
“Believe I will, boy o´ mine.”
“Yay.” Sated, Xander leaned back lightly against the vampire´s broad chest, liking the vibration of the purr against his skin.
“Best get to it, while that pill´s still workin´.” He lifted Xander and laid him on the bed. He quickly shimmied out of his pants then stretched out next to his boy, only to find that Xander had gone quiet and still, his eyes fixed on something on the bedside table.
Shit.
While he was bathing Xander, the minions had been carrying out his orders. The room had been transformed. It had been cleaned, the chains and other reminders of the night before had been cleared away, the fire was burning high, scented candles were glowing softly, and the blood–and–semen–stained sheets had been replaced with freshly laundered ones. Unfortunately, the dollar bills that had been scattered about like confetti near Xander´s side of the bed had been stacked neatly on the nightstand.
Angelus felt an unfamiliar ache in his chest. He cupped Xander´s face and turned it toward him. “There´s not enough treasure in the world, pretty, to match your value. D´ye know why I gave you those?”
Xander´s body was limp, relaxed, but the drugs weren´t enough to cover the pain Xander felt over this matter. “Because I´m a cheap whore?” The hurt in his boy´s voice tore into the vampire´s guts.
“No. That´s not it at all. Doesn´t have anything to do with you. I gave you those because I´m a mean drunk, is all.” He rubbed his jaw against the boy´s damp hair. “Why ever I gave them to you, you have them, and I think that you should make me earn them back! however you choose.”
Xander looked up at him, then smiled tremulously. “What if I want to trade them all for backrubs?” Angelus looked at him earnestly, aching at the subtle meaning behind the words. No sex for a while. “It´s for you to say, precious.” He smiled ruefully. “Just don‘t make me sing for them.”
“You can sing?”
“Nay, precious. You´d probably be makin´ ME pay.”
“Oh.” With a little sigh, the money apparently forgotten, Xander wriggled closer, snuggling giddily into Angelus´ body.
Angelus savored it for a while, then drew back reluctantly. “Lie still, sweetling.” The vampire murmured softly. “Let me do this.” He started with the injuries on Xander´s face; they bothered him the most. He bathed the cut under Xander´s eye, his tongue tickled by fluttering eyelashes. He tenderly laved the cut on Xander´s bottom lip, then explored the inside of the sweet mouth, the cuts there reassuring him again that the trace of blood in Xander´s vomit had come from them, not any internal injury. He worked quickly, aware of––and pained by––the trace of panic that shivered through the boy from time to time.
As humbled as a master vampire can be, he slowly and carefully licked each bite mark, and every welt. Finally, he spread the boy´s cheeks and attended to the torn and bruised anus, bathing it with soft strokes of his tongue. He was hard when he had finished, but, although Xander was giving off a faint scent of arousal, Angelus wasn´t surprised to find the boy still flaccid. He was over–medicated, over–stressed, and undernourished. Not to mention half–asleep.
Angelus sighed and drew his boy into a protective embrace, resisting the urge to grind his erection into the warm flesh. Xander was deeply asleep within seconds.
Angelus slept lightly, waking quickly when Xander´s accelerated heart rate and soft whimper heralded the beginning of a nightmare. He stroked his boy´s soft hair and purred close to his ear, chasing the terrors away. Struggling with his dim memories, he couldn´t remember ever purring for Xander in the last week, so he suspected that the sound would signal safety to Xander. He also knew that, drug–induced serenity aside, there was bound to be more fallout from the last several days. Angelus lay awake for a long time after that, guarding his boy and regretting.
Xander woke at sunset, anxious, and hurting everywhere. His memories of the previous 24 hours were hazy, part nightmarish and part too good to be true. He looked at the sleeping demon and wondered which Angelus would be waking up beside him. His fear began to return full force.
When his heart began to gallop, the demon´s golden brown eyes snapped open.
Terrified, Xander tensed all over, his breath quickening. Then, long, thick fingers combed through his hair, and a deep, rumbling purr sounded near his ear. “Sweetling, pretty one, what would you like for your breakfast?”
What did you do, he wondered, when your greatest terror and your only comfort were all wrapped up in the same package? Xander lay staring up at his claimant, confused and still a little scared. But the big hands kept stroking, the hypnotic voice praising. “My very own, my sweet boy! ”
