Title: Suzerain's Companion (working title)
Author: Archived at: Pairing: Xander/Spike Rating: Mature Audiences – for content and themes Summary: Post WWIII and 250+ years on from the Black Thorn. Highly refined, purpose bred 'Companion' Alexander is 'liberated' by feral humans, consequently rescued by the Suzerain Spike's forces, the head of which decides to ingratiate himself by presenting his Sire with a boy reminiscent of one of the former Scoobies.
Spoilers: Canon is AU - very post S5 AtS. Warnings: M/M – if you don't like boys together, don't play here!
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters nor make any money from stories etc, and bow down to their original creators Joss, et al., plus all the wonderful online writers who continue to give the Buffy/Angel verse characters life.

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Definition: Suzerain feudal overlord to whom fealty is due. Ruler of a large region with international boundaries but allows domestic sovereignty in exchange for loyalty and payment.

Part 1

He huddled with the others in the middle of a large area that three hundred years earlier had served as a school gymnasium. At sixteen he was the youngest of the five 'liberated' in the middle of the night. He, like Samuel, put up a fight against his 'rescuers' – at least they tried to until hit by tranquilizer darts, waking up in a transport cage and shoved into the holding area ready for 'release'.

The feral humans were organized and on a deliberate mission to rescue humans from their demon masters and release them back into their natural habitat – they were particularly targeting Companion breeding farms and feed lots. The aim was to stop all manipulation of human DNA and return the humans to their natural state. But the concept was flawed.

None of the Companions were capable of fending for themselves. Years of selective breeding and genetic modification, along with careful training from birth and a rarefied diet had rendered the Companions utterly dependent on their owners. They were extraordinarily expensive to buy and quite the show of status. Consequently their owners were most careful and caring of their pets.

Alexander was even more exceptional. Only the very few prize male Companions kept their manhood, since the breeding studs were most discerning regards the lines. Alexander had won numerous trophies, his holographic image gracing many a table since he was but five years of age.

Pretty as a youngster, he grew quickly and was just shy of six foot two as a fifteen year old, and coming up for seventeen, had a youthful athlete's physique. He was handsome, with a slightly elfin youthfulness, and had the perfect quiet and affectionate nature, ideal for breeding and for a companion to a rich vampire or demon. There was no question of Natte having him gelded.

Alexander had learned to happily catch his seed in the receptacle as soon as he was able to respond to the stimulator, and in idle moments wondered which of Natte's pretty females would carry his child. He was friendly with all of the women but natural relations were out of the question, only feral humans engaged in such hit and miss impregnation.

As the youngest of only three breeding males on the property, he was allowed into the women's enclosure and enjoyed his days reading with them, braiding hair, massaging backs (and if they were pregnant… bellies). He had been the darling of the whole estate. Yet all that made no difference now…

Now he lay curled alongside his fellow four Companions, they just touched as all lay in foetal position on the cold wooden floor of a holding establishment, filthy, bereft and frightened. They had been placed in with feeding humans 'liberated' on the same night, who, due to the feeders' breeding and drug implants, simply sat doe eyed and awaited their fate.

He knew he could not survive in the outside world. Master had always pampered and fed him. How could he get clean? Where would he find food? Warmth? He could read but not write. He could count so long as fingers and toes were involved and add using the same system. He knew how to play various sports and table games popular in the upper class demon circles, could mix drinks, and knew when to kneel and stand… But he knew that in no way was he equipped to survive in the wilds of the outside. He cuddled closer to the older Samuel, and the senior breeding male from the estate, technically his older second cousin, pulled the young man close.

…………………..

The rescue was uneventful really. The Suzerain's First, Angelus' team was efficient and vicious. The rebel humans were unprepared for the onslaught, swiftly drained, an occasional pretty one turned as a minion, and the rest dumped in a pile of dead flesh within a matter of minutes

Most of the 'freed' feeder humans all simply sat or knelt bewildered in their places in the middle of the floor, but the Companions knew better, they shuffled over and prostrated themselves at the feet of the vampires who had saved them, muttered grateful platitudes and waited, foreheads touching the floor and for the most part, tears of thanks flowing.

The feeders were dealt with first, swiftly herded onto a truck, they all went willingly. Herding they knew and understood.

The Companions were treated with far more care. The First, Angelus, was adamant that they should have leads and be handled by professional Companion trainers. As a consequence it was some hour before they were led from their temporary prison.

Alexander assumed he was to be returned to his master like Angelus ordered be the actions for Samuel and the three others. But sadly, one of the feral liberating humans had ripped away and destroyed his ownership tags and that meant that technically he belonged to no one. Natte was against branding (it marred the skin – smooth and perfect all important).

The Companions knew better than to say anything, so Samuel simply looked on desperately as the vampire Angelus inspected the unmarked, unclaimed prize.

"Looks like today is a good one after all." He turned to his group and barked instructions, "Take those turned ferals back to the stronghold, and return these to their rightful owners – ask the usual fee. This one is mine to keep, he's got no tags so finders keepers say I." His men grinned, they all knew full well that the Companion must have been from one of the establishments the others came from, but the First had spoken so they simply followed orders.

When Natte inquired regards the other Companion stolen, the response was a simple "He was taken," which the dear breeder interpreted as meaning he had been killed. He was so upset that Samuel was unable to convey the news that Alexander had his tags removed by their captors and consequently was claimed by another, until several months afterward. By the time Natte found out, there was no question of reclaiming him.

His wonderful Companion human now was apparently in the possession of the Suzerain. He consoled himself by beginning to groom two pretty little lads – both Alexander's and hoping The Suzerain would appreciate the exquisite creature now gracing his presence.

……………

The Suzerain's favoured lieutenant and Childe, Angelus had intended to put the unclaimed one into the sales pens but really did enjoy the look of the dark boy so took him for his own. Something about him reminded him of a human he had known years before.

As he drove back to their stronghold he realized what it was, he reminded him of the boy Harris who used to run with Buffy on the Hellmouth.

The boy was a little too refined and passive for his taste. He enjoyed a bit of feistiness in his humans, preferring to take less well bred Companions early and training them to his own taste. The two other women he had as Companions were attractive, blonde and, Alexander noted on the first night, highly trained in martial arts and pleasuring their owner rather than reading, drawing or dance, or any of his other skills. But Angelus found those things mildly amusing initially.

After a couple of weeks however, he bored of the boy so found another use for his bootie… He was hoping to ingratiate himself with the Suzerain and thought that this Companion might just make a fine tribute.

The Suzerain's First was again out of favour apparently.

Angel, the Childe of the Supreme leader of three quarters of the planet, had displeased his Sire by turning three, what Angelus considered 'pretty', feral female human that he claimed to have 'tamed' post capture. The result was him having to dust the three blondes in front of his Sire, as each proved both extremely aggressive and none too bright.

Angelus would be three hundred and sixty one this year – though technically nearly double that – and desperate for his own region to rule. He was happy that Sire would always be the Suzerain… but he was tired of simply being repeatedly called to arms.

His status had changed a mere five years before the world changed. Just as the dragon was about to strike in the final battle with the Black Thorn, Illiria, in a blinding burst of energy that shook the city, eliminated an army and afforded her a transfer to another realm. It had also, somehow, tugged away Spike's soul, and provided Angel his much desired Shanshu. Sadly the dragon Angel was so keen to fight had crashed to the ground with a gaping open mouth, tearing through the now human torso with a deadly set of teeth.

Charlie and Wes were already dead, and Spike, despite his new status, could not leave his ex-Sire on the ground to bleed out. He extracted him from the pile of dead dragon flesh and took him to ground… The Hyperion was still there.

Spike found the basement and stayed. He turned Angel just as the sun rose and the convulsions and coughing of blood signalled the human body's last struggle.

His new Childe had been compliant and cooperative for a good fifty years, a devoted and loyal student despite their history being very different whenever either vampire cared to remember.

They had lived quietly as the Master Spike gradually built his territory, slowly but surely gathering a group of demons loyal to him and building a proper court of minions. They were still forced underground by the human society, but all that was altered in three catastrophic weeks as the human race imploded beginning on the anniversary of Angel's turning fifty one as Childe.

No Hellmouth or alien race was needed to destroy human society. They were more than capable of doing it themselves.

The demons (Spike included) had simply been waiting and had prepared. It would be their time soon.

As the global weather patterns altered and crops failed, hostilities between first and third world escalated, lines were drawn and alliances made. The wholesale rising of the third world against first was far more dangerous than any of those involved realized. Eventually all the bastardization and hatred of the 'other' (be it on political racial or religious terms), and the subtle suppression of the poorer countries, bubbled over. Gone were the days of the massacre by Hutus of Tutsis, or the dilemmas in Bangladesh and Ethiopia and… and… and….being ignored. They united to hold the first world nations to their promises. And one nation in particular was mistrusted as the UN desperately tried to find a solution.

Like Rome the tendrils of the United States now stretched like an enormous spider, controlling the global media in particular, using it to control markets and nation's opinions. But in the end…

The USA president broadcast disparaging remarks about the alliance of seventeen countries in Africa, and then went on to describe the "better part of the Western Asia and Arab regions" as "the primary source of criminals and terrorists" and singled out the Indian prime minister in particular to be a woman of questionable character.

The first shot didn't come from India, however. And a single inter-continental missile from a silo in west Pakistan set off by a radical group was all it took. Five self directed warheads at twenty megatons each, wiped out the better part of New York, Chicago and a small town in Philadelphia (plus surrounding regions). Two more were successfully intercepted mid air, only to spread the fallout even further.

But it was the response that really caused the damage.

The following two days changed the world forever. Three more nuclear armaments were launched by the USA, North Korea and in the end one from France's silo in the South Pacific all directed at key cities. Biological weapons were fired at and wiped out millions in Mexico City, Madrid, Beijing, Tokyo, London, Cairo, and Rio within hours. On day three in all the confusion, two captains in US submarines let fly with two more nuclear missiles, and on and on it went. Conventional weapons too played a part as the daily experience of people, as the atmosphere clogged with a deadly cocktail and the few remaining humans became more and more desperate.

Gaia stirred. Her response to the assault on her equilibrium was a series of massive earth quakes, several volcanoes reawakening. It was a decent measure of 'I told you so', were anyone listening. Weather patterns were utterly corrupted and the sky blackened, plunging all but the poles into complete darkness.

The demons who were still able, raced to preserve their food supply. They grabbed as many unscathed humans as they could, targeting healthy breeding age individuals – particularly pretty males and females, and availed themselves to the in vitro storage vats wherever possible and grabbing frozen supplies of embryos, aware that the fallout effect could be sterilization.

By the sixth month they were simply taking any healthy breeding females. The humans who fought or found 'flawed' were simply used for food in the underground silos and subterranean networks the demon races had established years earlier.

In the ensuing two hundred and fifty years first below ground then finally in the last hundred of so, above, the demon cartels bred their food source. Their own scientists lent nature a hand, genetically engineering the progeny and carefully breeding the successful outcomes. They were also aided by the prestige of winning the 'race' to produce the perfect feeder human, and the perfect companion human. Within mere decades two new subspecies were established and recognized. The feeders were developed for their larger size, their regenerative capacity, docile nature, their very low IQ. Companions were developed for their gentle and affectionate nature, their intelligence and generally attractive youthful appearance. There were variations in colouration of course, but by and large, once the breeding parameters were established, any creature born who was outside the guidelines was swiftly terminated.

In the end close on seventy demon cartels were involved in the project. The convenience and consistency of the product led to a worldwide ruling declaring all other humans 'feral'. Most on the surface now were deformed in some way and seen as pests. Though the argument for complete annihilation of the 'ferals' was argued against as many individuals genuinely enjoyed hunting them for sport.

The Suzerain Spike had his compound in what had once been Toronto Canada and had gained his current power and position courtesy of careful planning, vicious tactics and eliminating anyone or anything opposing him. He gradually annexed three quarters of the world over a period of 200 plus years some by stealth, others by intrigue and even more by force. All the important cartels on the planet now answered to him. He controlled the feeder prices and 'owned' the owners and breeders, in fact he controlled the prices of just about everything and openly indorsed protection racketeering and a plethora of other 'law of the jungle' type behaviours.

…………………………..

He was pretty and well behaved and (as Angelus' sources had since found out) had an impeccable pedigree from a line that had been bred, genetically engineered and trained over generations for their purpose.

Alexander had been trying so hard to please his new owner, but the imposing figure of Angelus seemed to prefer everything he was not. He was certainly untrained at fighting and had no inclination to join his owner on a hunt or in bed. His dancing skills were snorted at and his offer to wash his owner's hair then dress it was rejected out of hand.

When he heard the one way conversation, then the Master Angelus instructed the staff to prepare him as a gift to the Suzerain, it was a relief. He really had expected to be sold since his current owner really had no time for him.

………………………………

The more Angel looked at him the more he was reminded of someone long dead. It came to him late one night. Harris. The irritating schoolboy who hung around with his old flame of more than two and a half centuries ago. Angelus stared hard through the one way glass at the boy now curled in a pathetic heap on his sleeping mat. Cleaned up he should make a fine gift for his Sire. And if he really liked him then just perhaps…

The ceremony of the presentation of the tribute was short and to the point. Angelus received his reward, a large brace of feeding humans for his trouble, and the Suzerain had immediately waved away the tribute. Alexander was led down a long corridor bewildered and confused as to why he was going from his new owner.

Two months later he still lay dejectedly in a holding pen. They hadn't even bothered to tether him on the first day, so he knew there would be a long wait. There was white on white and nothing to do, though he did keep to his training regime, even without equipment. Push ups crunches … everything he could think of. But the silence and the loneliness and the white!

The handlers were nice enough, but were only feeding him once a day and the food nothing like he was used to. It was dry pellets and a measured supply of water that he needed to take, humiliatingly, from a feeding bottle attached to the wall! There were no fresh greens, or any prepared fish like at home.

His bedding was changed every second day but even that merely consisted of some sort of synthetic straw and a covering of a thin silver 'space blanket' which gave no comfort, but he accepted. At least it was warm, though he did wish for... the soft bedding of the training school... at least that, but the Suzerain's establishment obviously didn't do those things.

Toileting was done in a tiny corner facility and he was only washed and shaved twice a week which distressed him.

Alexander was purpose bred and was well trained. He knew to wait and to behave with grace, but he was starting to find it hard.

What if the Suzerain rejected him outright? And with his current level of reduced fitness and hygiene? He worried as he waited.

Every Prize Companion had heard the stories of the ornery leader of the world's cartels and the fate of those rejected. The rumours were that the exalted one was handsome beyond measure, but had been scorned in love, and hurt by others who merely wanted power. And that he was now was unwilling to have any relations other than slaves hired for the night and never seen again, and of late had even ceased that practice.

Alexander had felt was so honoured when he found he was to be the gift, so sure he would be seen immediately, but it was now a full moon cycle and nothing... and now he was even struggling to calculate the days. It seemed he was being punished for a crime of some sort. A crime he could not possibly have consciously committed.

The lights were always on and the artificial heat kept so steady. He knew now what his dear friend Navesh had been talking about. His sleeping patterns were getting more and more erratic and he was losing his sense of reality. If he stayed in the cells much longer he would be of little use to any but the public pleasure houses or for slaughter. He had heard of the fate of any crazed or unwanted Companions, they were usually used as a public spectacle for street theatre - drained by two or three vampires to musical accompaniment and the cheering of a crowd.

Just as he was contemplating his options and his own rising panic, a handler came, scrubbed him down and shaved his entire body as he stood compliant, then clipped a lead to his collar.

The Companion Alexander was to finally meet the Suzerain William.

Part 2

He was led to a smaller room and stood compliant as the rather worn second hand collar he'd been issued in the First Angelus' facility was replaced.

The ferals had removed the pretty silver choker he'd always worn.

Now he had a thick choker of gold encircling his neck.

The handler locked it in place and the Companion almost cried for joy. But then he was handed a pair of white, heavy cotton trousers and white thick wrap around jacket resembling a martial arts suit, fashion from hundreds of years earlier.

Alexander was not used to wearing such clothing… or much clothing at all. And in the holding pens he had been nude… so had not even worn the comfortable black stretchy pants from his daytimes at Breeder Nate's facility since he was captured

He pulled on the pants, then simply stood in the cell looking confused and desperate over to the handler. The put upon green demon simply sighed and helped him into the jacket, then tied a white fighting belt around his slim waist.

His hair was brushed with military efficiency and he was thrown a stick of mascara and small mirror with a grunt from his until now silent handler. "He used to like the pretty ones – your best shot at surviving." Alexander also heard the muttered, "Poor Bastard" and worried all the more. He had no idea if he qualified as 'pretty enough'.

He applied the eye makeup quickly and followed the rather agitated handler from his basement prison, up three flights of stairs into a magnificent state of the art home. He was led along a long white corridor, only to be left standing outside an enormous set of plain black doors.

He simply stood, hands behind his back and waited. The handler knocked and a staff member opened cautiously before pulling the boy into the room by his karate belt.

He knew better than to fall to his knees, it was unbecoming for a well bred Companion, instead he simply stood motionless in front of the Suzerain, tilted his head down in a sign of supplication, and waited.

It was thirty minutes before the blonde dressed in a classic 1930s style suit from human times, looked up from the paper on his desk and appraised his First's 'Gift'.

Alexander hadn't moved in all that time, he stood 'at ease' feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back, and desperately in need of scratching his nose! But he held his position, knowing that if he failed to impress, his life would be severely shortened.

Eventually the Suzerain looked up from a screen, and what Alexander could only interpret as a 'thinking machine'. At least that's what Natte told him as a youngster, all the rage amongst the elite.

Alexander quickly focused his gaze on the ground.

The Suzerain Spike levelled a cold, calculating gaze on his prize. "Do you read?"

"Suzerain… Yes … I read."

The cold tone did not change and Alexander was acutely aware of the less than impressed stare, "Do you sing and dance?"

"Only if you wish, Suzerain."

"And you are trained in sports?"

"Not all but most, Suzerain. Golf, Swimming, Gymnastics… what is it you wish?"

Spike took a long draft of his cigarette, blew the smoke casually into the room then asked, "And indulge me… what else can you do??"

Alexander blushed, something not missed by his now owner, "I can pleasure… And I speak four languages adequately and am a registered breeding Companion, Suzerain."

"Do you know how to kneel?"

Alexander moved forward and dropped immediately.

"Hmph… Can you listen young one?"

The endearment was not lost on the Companion and the response automatic, "Yes Suzerian, always to you."

"I don't need a pretty boy listenin' to me you dolt! I need a bloody asset, not an ornament!" Alexander's hopes swiftly went from joyful to devastated, but his owner had not finished, so he knelt well behaved, rather than begging.

"How's your memory?"

Still on his knees in front of the suit clad Suzerain he said rather shyly, "I believe it's excellent Suzerain"

"Good what I need is an extra set of ears in the room… Ones as don't have their own agenda so ta speak. And what you need to do is prove to me, pretty boy, is why you are worthy to be kept on by the leader of the known world. So get on your feet and stand over there – free corner of the room.

"You to remember all the conversations at the cartel meeting today… clear? You don't move. You don't speak. If it works out, I'll sort a bloody suit for you sometime soon, or at least have you in a black one of those. You'll stick out like a sore thumb today… but I'll deal with that."

Alexander was contrite and knew his place. "I will do my best Suzerain."

"Too bloody right you will. Now stand up and take your spot. Haven't got all day."

Alexander raised his eyes just a little in hope that he was welcome as he stood, but all he saw was the cold gaze of his owner before the Suzerain turned back to his affairs, obviously expecting his order to be followed without further question.

The Companion complied immediately, taking his spot beside a palm in a classic bronze pot, standing at ease and schooling his body to be motionless.

And so the Cartel leaders filed in, each delegation brought the leader and the deputy. They sat around an enormous table that had three huge jugs of water and glasses as the centre pieces, the pecking order for seating very obvious. As soon as all were seated and with a drink, the meeting began.

As Angelus had entered and sat on the Suzerain's right, the Companion's breath hitched a little. He had to get this right or holding pens and public amusement would be his future.

Alexander listened most carefully, committing to memory all the names and seating positions of the attendees, using the fingers behind his back as a reminder. Then he began to listen to the dialogue. He noted that the Suzerain said little merely sitting back with his hands in his lap and head slightly tilted or when thinking hard, tended to put his hand to his face, thumb on one defined cheek bone and forefinger across his lips.

Others were more animated and as Alexander listened, he noticed how much they gave away due to their leader's silence.

One vampire in particular was effusive in his compliments and enthusiastic regards the success of their cartel in the west of what was once southern USA/Mexico.

Alexander watched his owner's hand come up and recognized that something was not quite right – he listened even harder. The financial reports being presented were that the projections of the previous year only just meeting their targets. But the silent observer saw the twitch and the nervous hands under the table. He watched as the Suzerain quietly asked the man if there was any more to report at which point the twitch occurred again as the answer "No Suzerain, we will do better next quarter."

The meeting adjourned for a short break, other members filing out into the anteroom on command promised blood, alcohol or coffee and a 'variety of snacks'.

The Suzerain Spike turned to him immediately all had left the room and simply said "Well?"

Alexander fell to his knees (with some relief as he had been standing motionless for over an hour).

Eyes down and hands still behind his back he reported all… It was near word for word and the Companion missed the rather surprised look on the Master Vampire's face as the meeting was recounted.

"So your impressions of the Master of the Southern Cartel Carlos?"

"He seemed to be holding something from you, Suzerain. I could see his hands moving nervously, and he twitched when challenged regards the finances, though not with other queries. He also twitched when the black market of feral blood was mentioned."

His owner stood abruptly and Alexander knew to hold fast, though from the aggressive stance, was truly terrified he was about to be hit – and hard. But instead his hair was ruffled and a rather amused owner simply said, "You might just work out Pet. Now get to your corner and enjoy the fun."

Called back in after their break the general mood was jovial. It suited their supreme leader. He allowed loose tongues to waggle as the delegates re-entered the meeting room, before opening with a number of mundane territory issues. His First, Angelus, took the floor and Spike had time to look hard at Master Carlos.

Under the table he held his own tiny computer and called up all the reported financial dealings of said Cartel leader in the last twelve months, then cross referenced it with his income, and finally with the raids on two feral 'blood farms' by the demon military in the last two years. Some found not just ferals but feeders stolen from nearby farms owned by the cartel itself – though the theft never reported. Neither establishment could be pinned to Carlos, but his sudden 'spending spree' would indicate another source of income, and at the time Spike could not but help think "Thou protesteth too much."

As the cross references were made Spike made a decision. He knew Carlos' second Julio and had always found him a 'solid' character, certainly not as shifty as his boss.

Mundane matters over with, it was time to oust the mole. "I am intrigued by the idea of alternatives to our feeders. Anyone around the table having trouble with the feral harvesting farms in your regions? We need a solution."

The dialogue erupted as most Cartel leaders found the practice to be either worthy of reporting or at least handling within their region. Carlos was unusually subdued, his second nudging him several times. But the Suzerain was staring directly at him and he did precisely what he willed his body not to, he flinched.

Faster than even the other vampires could track, the Master Vampire Spike, now just over four hundred years old, was upon the hapless Carlos, had hauled him from his chair and had him pinned high up on the wall by his neck, flailing helplessly.

"Now see, let me explain something. It's business and it's politics. And we are a for profit organization, and if you are makin' profit mate then you owe it to the organization to let us take our bit." Spike squeezed a little harder at the throat, and although Carlos did not have to breath, he could feel veins and arteries beginning to collapse and had started to see stars.

"Now do be a good fellow and tell me just how many feral blood farms you have in your territory… under your control at the moment… because I'm afraid we seemed to have missed that in your financial report… possibly for the last few years wouldn't you think!"

Spike could smell the terror and guilt flowing from the vampire and simply grinned to Angelus as he, still holding the vampire off the floor with one hand, said to the group, "It seems like there is going to be a slight restructure at middle management level." Upon which he squeezed the neck even harder heard a crack then tore the head from the body. Angelus was at his side with a clothes brush to remove the dust from Spike's immaculate suit before he retook his seat as though nothing had happened.

He addressed Julio, "Financial reports… accurate ones… and back dividends by Tuesday or your entire Cartel leadership will find out just what a Suzerain is capable of."

Julio nodded profusely and was infinitely grateful that the meeting was officially closed following his boss's demise.

All departed but for Angelus who stayed for a short time to debrief regards the rise of Cartel leader Julio. The orders were to watch him also. But they had a few days up their sleeve, if he came back contrite and with reports and cash then all would be well.

Sire and Childe were just exchanging wrists when there was a heavy thump in the corner as the Companion fell in a dead faint.

Alexander had been standing without moving for first one and a half then two hours and had not eaten or had water since around midday the previous day, something that seemed to have escaped the attention of the entire staff and his owner.

He did not radiate distress, simply started to see sparkles as the world disappeared, his ears began to ring, and then random images before … black.

He had no idea what had happened as he came to on a lounge suite in a room he later realized was the Suzerain's own office. He immediately panicked. He had failed in his task and would be disposed of. Despite a throbbing headache and very sore elbow and hip that had taken much of his fall, he swiftly rolled off the couch and prostrated himself on the ground, not even sure to whom he needed to appeal.

The Suzerain was across the room in seconds as he saw the human's actions.

"What's this?? Get up you idiot!! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!… Handlers say you haven't had anything to eat or drink since yesterday! Why?"

Alexander knew he had failed his owner and was shamed. He kept his position fully down but knew to answer a direct question. He lifted a little then replied, "I was called to you Suzerain. You ordered me still and attentive. I believe I did that Suzerain. I did not know the protocol to ask for food or water… or for relief of human needs. But I did try for you Suzerain… I can recall the second part of the meeting, but… Oh I am sorry for…"

Spike suddenly realized his own error. That the handlers had been dismissed was normal, but he had given the Companion no method of expressing his needs and as they did not coincide with his own, it had not even occurred.

For the first time in over two centuries, Spike felt for another that was not his Childe. This beautiful being, so like a friend from before the destruction, had done everything the Scoobie would have done for the greater good and in this case it was for The Suzerain, Alexander's owner.

Spike lifted the near unconscious figure of his Companion onto his own bed, called for his surgeons and stood back as they tended to boy.

"He will be fine Suzerain, but he is underfed. If you wish to exploit his talents then a refined diet is recommended. If I am not out of line Suzerain… he is most exquisite, and worthy of your attention – if only as accessory."

Spike dismissed the medico and moved onto the bed with the boy.

For some unknown reason, now in private, he let his fangs drop and opened his wrist. He lifted the again unconscious Companion, and dripped his own blood from a wrist into the lax mouth. Alexander reflexively drank then, surprisingly, latched on and started to draw the liquid in hard drafts. For some reason the look and the actions prompted Spike's response. It was old memories and that of an alpha male, and for the demon instinctive – something previously offered.

He dragged the boy up and bit down hard, taking back what was his and showing the boy his place.

The Companion fell back, still only semiconscious but blissful, and having come – something his owner only realized several minutes later. He too had climaxed during the act and though not embedded in his chosen, he had inadvertently claimed the Companion. If he rejected the boy now, the Companion would die an agonizing death that would also affect the Suzerain.

Spike pulled away, suddenly realizing what he had just done, "Oh Bloody Hell… Not again"
……………………..

Part 3

The Suzerain had been without a marked Companion, deliberately, for years. Any sort of attachment spelt vulnerability. Kidnappings and killings of partners, Childer or children, claimants or even favoured Companions, were frequently used tactics as payback or to gain submission. He was a master at it himself.

His very public arguments with his only Childe Angelus and expressions of displeasure and hate, and demands for public submission, were as much to keep his First, his lieutenant, safe as they were to keep his powerful Childe in his place. The public perception that he mistrusted his Childe, and that the man fell in and out of favour, left his enemies with the impression that they were better to court Angelus as an ally to plot against the Suzerain, than to eliminate the Childe. And the tactic had worked for over two centuries.

Numerous enemies were dust or rotting corpses (depending on species) as their efforts to 'seduce' the powerful Childe of the Suzerain, resulted in them finding they were themselves in the direct line of fire. Angelus was always publicly punished by his Sire, if anyone even suspected his connection and was still valuable… i.e. could not be eliminated or silenced. His obvious torture or temporary exile always seemed to exonerate him in the eyes of the cartels plotting against the Suzerain.

Angelus knew his place in his Sire's world and played his part so very well that like any consummate actor, reality and fantasy occasionally blurred. But there was no question when they were in private. Sire loved him. Torture wounds were tended carefully and he healed quickly with his Sire's blood freely given, and soft words of adoration eased his pain.

One thing was never questioned of Angelus by any of the cartel leaders, he was as deadly as his Sire and just as calculating, had taken no favoured Childer or Companions that anyone knew of. Instead he seemed to prefer to catch and 'tame' any feral humans that took his fancy and disposed of them just as easily if he became bored of their company. Attacking his 'harem' was pointless as a tactic, as his attachment to his pets seemed to hold as much importance as a favourite axe. His Sire had taught him well.

His dearest companion, a quite androgynous woman Lisbeth, was a feral from one of his raids ten years earlier, and had her attire and hair colour changed so regularly that even Angelus forgot sometimes. She was also remarkably convincing as either male or female. No one but the Suzerain knew of the constant presence as Angelus apparently 'went through' numerous ferals. Lisbeth would be turned the following year, she had begged her lover, promising the charade would continue, and Spike had endorsed the idea. The extraordinary girl loved his Childe and he was deeply attached to her. Spike approved wholeheartedly of the idea, and the two would also be mated in a private ceremony.

Yet now the Suzerain had broken his own rules! He had in no way intended to put his mark on the boy. But something had compelled him, and now he had to deal with the repercussions. His only consolation was that the bite was further back than normal and down low on the neck. A wider choker and slightly longer hair would cover it easily. He ordered the former immediately. The other would come naturally. He had never been averse to pretty boys with hair past their shoulders.

The choker arrived as the human roused from his collapse and consequent sleep.

An extremely strong hand and harsh tones stilled him and shot adrenalin through his system, but he stayed as instructed. "Don't bloody move."

He was lying on his back and felt his choker being removed. There was no way he could stem his tears.

His owner was removing the only thing designating him a Companion, something he had only just regained! His head, hip and arm hurt and there was throbbing toward the rear of his neck that was becoming worse by the minute… and he ached to stay with the Suzerain. Yet he had obviously been such a disappointment the previous night that he was to be sold or worse.

He closed his eyes and tried so hard not to sob, just letting the tears track down into his hair and was successful until he felt the new much more substantial choker wrap around his neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt pain as it tugged tight over the sore spot at the back, but he was too busy being relieved and, despite his best efforts, began to whisper in hitched patterns marked by a flood of relieved tears, "Thank you … oh thank you…" over and over.

The vampire suspected the source of the angst but eventually had enough of the hysterics and slapped his charge hard enough to leave substantial fingermarks on the lad's now wet right cheek.

"Bloody well stop that! If you're gonna be around me there's no cryin'… got it!?"

"::hic:: Yes Suzerain ::hic:: Apologies Suzerain." Alexander tried his best to blink away the remaining wetness.

"Good. Well sit up then!" Spike waited for the boy to right himself a little, propping against the substantial head board, the innocent brown eyes blinking at him with worried anticipation.

"Now we've got that sorted, I need ta mention a few other rules. You break 'em you are dead… not sold or passed over… just dead – you got me?"

Alexander looked wide eyed and lifted his hand to caress the impossibly thick gold choker, "Yes, Suzerain."

"To the rest of the world you are my effeminate bodyguard and occasional bed buddy, a Companion, nothing more. You don't touch me in public unless I order it, you don't move unless I order it or you see a threat. But in the mean time you listen at all times. You've proven yourself useful at that, so I want a report whenever I ask. Clear?"

"Yes, Suzerain." He was happy to comply but also, for some reason felt like something had shifted inside his system but could not put a finger on it, and a myriad of emotions were evident in his eyes as he attempted to make sense of it all..

Spike didn't miss the boy's inner struggle as the human lifted his hand and continued to stroke his new jewellery in wonder.

Spike leaned forward and whispered with a tone that he later realized held both threat and genuine affection, "Might have forgotten to mention… heat of the moment thing, drank from you, Pet, and you had a little of my precious liquid, so you're mine now in the demon sense. You're Marked… meanin' I might fully Claim you one day should I feel inclined. Got it? But already… I dust, you die, so best interests and all that. You start your training tomorrow. Need ya fit 'n pretty 'n skilled. Gonna be seen with me always, so might as well have you proper trained… Bodyguard… got it?"

Alexander's eyes went wider and darkened with wonder. A few lucky Companions had the privilege of exchanging blood with their vampire owner, and then only after years of acting as a faithful Companion… and then, he'd heard, it usually ended in a turning. A full Claiming of a Companion was so rare as to be almost the stuff of legend. He wondered at his owner. He had no recollection of the marking so it was even more confusing. But he knew better than to question his owner and in the end the Companion simply accepted. "Yes, Suzerain."

Immediately he had accepted, Alexander was pushed off the bed. "Good, go wash."

Alexander stilled on the floor and knelt, his arms behind his back, immediately aware of his inadequacies. He had little idea of what his owner expected him to do, indeed was not even sure where to go.

"Oh bloody hell! My bathroom!" Spike indicated an enormous bathroom off the bedroom.

As the human stood rather unsteadily he simply answered, "Yes Suzerain."

"Right, well… Get in there and I'll call for a handler, make sure you don't fall over or sommit!"

Alexander answered politely, if a little shaken, "Thank you Suzerain." before walking slowly to the bathroom and attempting to strip off the few clothes he had but wavered dangerously in front of the bath/shower facility. Spike dialled for one of his minions barking orders that they needed to be at his suite immediately to assist with the ablutions of his Companion human.

Xander began to feel quite odd and his ears rang in that strange way, apart from the Suzerain's blood, he still hadn't eaten or taken water since the previous day. In the grey and sparkles on the way down, Xander was unable to hold control and his body relieved itself of long stored urine.

Spike saw the Companion begin to fall for the second time, and with true vampiric speed caught him on the way down.

Noticing his human's rather precarious state he yelled to his staff who were just entering his rooms, "Bloody get in here!"

The two handlers panicked, "Yes Suzerain. What is it you wish us to do?"

"Bloody obvious innit! Now get over here and give the boy a good wash down, and shave anythin' that needs it… and sort 'is hair. Right bloody mess all this." He then turned to a third staff member who had just skidded to a halt at the door. "And you! Food and drink here now – human food for now… Well? Go to?!!!"

By the end of the ensuing two hours of ablutions and attention, the Companion Alexander had come too, was more than compliant, but still struggling to stand without feeling dizzy, and seemed to ache for the Suzerain. Nevertheless the gentle Companion repeatedly thanked his kind handlers as they lay him on a towel, shaved all but his head then washed him carefully.

He was propped up on a small lounge suite with freshly prepared food and including things he had not seen for months – fresh fruit, salad and a baked fish! Even the flat bread was freshly made! The jug of water with slices of a pinkish lemon and mint was consumed as though the finest wine.

It was the first time since he had been stolen away from his breeder Master Natte that he had been given such considerations. He would have shed a tear but quickly wiped his eyes as he remembered the Suzerain's order. He was not to cry.

The Supreme Master would claim him fully. He felt different from the marking and wondered what the Claim would feel like… he already felt the Suzerain's absence like a gaping hole in his existence. He had never felt anything like it before.

He knew that if the Supreme Master rejected him now, he would choose to die. He simply held on to the hope that he would remain in favour and resolved to train as hard as he could for his owner.

The Suzerain did not return until the following night. Around three in the morning the Suzerain Spike returned to his suite apparently extremely drunk and a little angry, but seemed to relax as he pulled the Companion from his position on the couch to the Suzerain's own bed.

"C'mon… Pet… decent session is what's needed … what's ya name pretty one?"

"Alexander, Suzerain… I am your Marked Companion…?" Xander felt bereft, he was not even remembered!

"Ohhh yessss Hmmmph… The cabana boy…. well make yerself useful!" Spike fell onto his back, unzipped himself and lowered his pants – revealing a very lax appendage. But before Alexander had complied, the vampire passed out.

He tugged off his owner's pants and tucked him into bed before making himself comfortable on the couch.

………………..