Title: Sympathy For The Devil

Authoress: Sakuri

Rating: M

Summary: Spander slash. Slight AU. In a Sunnydale without Buffy, Spike is being held captive by the Initiative. When a newly de-souled Angelus arrives in town, he may be the only one with knowledge enough to help stop him. Enter Xander, new Initiative recruit, and the only person able to hold the vampire's interest for more than five minutes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one

Chapter Twenty Nine: Them

xxx

Xander sat in his car, fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel. It was late afternoon, as he well knew from obsessively checking his watch. He'd been here a while now – twenty three minutes, if you wanna get exact – unable to stop dithering. He was aware of dithering, but just couldn't seem to help himself.

While he'd spent a large portion of his young life feeling nauseas about meeting a girl, he couldn't ever remember a time he'd felt that way about meeting up with Willow.

He took a breath. Okay. So she's a witch. So what? Look, Harris, if she didn't turn you into a frog that time you got chocolate and peanut butter all over her homework, I think you're safe.

It was stupid to be afraid of her. In theory, he knew this. He'd just never – knowingly – dealt with anyone capable of using magic before.

Fuck it. You've been hanging out with a vampire on an increasingly regular basis for the past two months or so. I think you can handle movie night with your best friend.

Repeating this to himself, he got out of the car and made his way towards the dorm building. He bounded up the stairs within, so occupied by his thoughts that he missed the sound of heels clicking along the hallway towards him. He turned a corner and collided with someone.

It was like walking into a brick wall. Before he could register what had happened, he found himself landing on his ass, blinking up at the petite young woman standing over him.

"Oh my god, I – I didn't see you. Are you alright?"

He nodded dumbly, a little disorientated. She's... so tiny! How the hell did she send me flying like that?

A manicured hand reached for him, and he took it without thinking, allowing her to haul him upwards effortlessly. He couldn't resist flexing his fingers as she let go. "...That's a good grip you got there."

"Uh, thanks."

If he hadn't already guessed, the strange sensation of the soldier spirit suddenly standing to attention might have tipped him off. He fought down the annoying instinct to salute as he stood there studying her.

"Buffy, right?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Do I know you or something?"

"No, no. But you're staying with Will and Tara, right? I'm Xander."

"Oh! Hey! They talk about you a lot."

"Uh huh."

They stared at each other, the moment slightly awkward as both failed to think up anything more to say. Once upon a time, Xander would have been rendered speechless for entirely different reasons. The woman in front of him was undeniably gorgeous, and under almost any other set of circumstances, he'd be tongue tied and falling all over himself trying to hit on her.

But with the knowledge that this girl was apparently a Slayer, and with the unsettling feeling of the soldier spirit radiating deference for a superior hunter throughout the back of his mind – well. He thought it had the potential to get pretty weird pretty fast.

"Right. Well. I better be going." She motioned vaguely and he sidestepped for her. "See you, I guess..."

He turned to watch her go, wondering if she'd be out on her own patrol of Sunnydale tonight. A spike of anxiety shot through him as the unbidden question came to him of what might happen if she encountered Initiative soldiers.

Shit. Hope they don't tranquilise her...

xxx

He'd been half expecting something dramatic that night at Willow's. He was to be disappointed, though. It was much the same as any other movie night he'd shared with them, with Xander being forced to watch something ridiculously girly while Tara quietly teased him for enjoying it. In all honesty, the whole reason for his nervousness had completely slipped his mind after about an hour of being there, which he supposed was a good thing.

Taking his leave, he'd felt and given in to the overwhelming urge to sweep the astonished pair into a bear hug.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to voice the questions waiting on the tip of his tongue. He wouldn't know how to. He rolled his eyes wryly as he tried to imagine how it would go.

Hey Tara, pass the popcorn. Levitate it over here like Sabrina, will you?

It was already dark by the time he finally stepped into the student parking lot. He frowned and checked his watch yet again, hoping he wouldn't be late for sign in at the base. Heading for his car at a brisk pace, rummaging through his pockets for the keys, he didn't see it coming.

Something clipped him precisely across the back of the head. He was out before he hit the ground.

xxx

Angelus cocked his head and studied the unconscious human laid out before him. Personally, he didn't see the appeal.

He supposed, if you squinted, there was a certain prettiness there. The longish dark hair, the expressive dark eyes, skin that'd bruise up quite nicely with just the right amount of pressure. The chains looked good on him, too. Bit like Dru, really. Close as you could get with a male human, anyway.

He snorted. Spike always did take obsession to strange new places.

He should have known. He should have known all that time ago when he'd first encountered the boy, stumbling around that club smelling of Spike, playing at hunter. The kid was trouble. An unnecessary complication. Even now, when the situation should have been simple – just a snap of the neck, over and done with – it wasn't. He'd been about to do it, too, when a sudden thought had stayed his hand. Who says I don't have impulse control?

He had to keep in mind that his youngest childe did not think or act like other vampires. Too often he forgot the fact. Any other of their kind, if for whatever reason they decided to claim a human, wouldn't let it run free the way Spike did. Claimed humans were possessions, not partners.

But Spike... Spike cared, and he wasn't supposed to.

He wouldn't just take it as an insult or a reprimand if his new pet turned up dead, he'd see it as a reason to seek vengeance – the same kind of vengeance Angelus was currently seeking for him, and didn't that just smack of ingratitude? Things would go to hell before he knew what had happened if Spike turned on him. Never let it be said his childe didn't know how to kick up a fuss.

So now here he was, in a quandary. He had the human all bound up in front of him, chained and manacled, vulnerable and helpless. Ready for the slaughter.

Only he couldn't. He couldn't afford the schism that killing the boy would cause, anymore than he could afford this state of constant distraction on Spike's part. He'd even gone so far as to seriously consider turning the boy as a sort of compromise, never mind that a fledgling vamp could prove endless amounts of work if you actually intended to raise it properly.

Angelus sighed. For the moment, he had no choice. He was going to have to keep the human alive, and leave his options open.

Just for now, he reassured himself. It made sense. Not only was he avoiding the fallout that killing him would cause, he'd be placing himself in a position of power over his defiant childe. Possession, after all, was nine tenths of the law. Didn't matter that Spike had claimed the kid – and he had; Spike's scent all over him and the faint scar of a bite told him as much. It would be enough to keep most other vampires away, actually. But Angelus was sire, and not above claiming sire's rights.

Spike's claim meant nothing when it was Angelus with his hands on the boy, and if the other vampire ever wanted his pet back – in one piece and in working order – he'd do as he was damn well told for once.

Satisfied with the logic, Angelus permitted a small smile. He stepped forward and upended the glass of icewater he was holding over the human. The discordant clinking of chains filled the small room as he scrabbled into motion, letting out a high pitched gasp of shock at the rude awakening.

"What – what – ?"

Xander looked around wildly, confusion blurring his senses. He squinted and blinked, shook his head, trying to bring the world into focus. Water dripped into his eyes. His arms felt heavy when he brought up a hand to wipe it away, and there was a horrendous shriek and scrape of metal. It made him jump.

"Wha–?"

"Awake are you, boyo?"

His head jerked up so fast it hurt, because he knew that voice, knew that accent. The shadows above him slowly resolved themselves into an all too familiar form. Angelus stared down at him, head tilted, mouth quirked. Xander's blood ran cold.

Immediately he tried to jump to his feet, horrified at being caught helpless by the vampire. He promptly tripped, dragged down by the weight of manacles around his wrists and ankles. Pressing back against the wall, he scrambled uselessly, panic exploding in the back of his head like a sunburst. It hurt. Blood rushed in his ears, behind his eyes, and throbbed through a large egg-shaped bump on the back of his skull.

Angelus chuckled indulgently at his struggles. He crouched down to put them on a level, forearms resting on his knees, hands dangling loose between his legs. "There now. Not gonna pass out on me again so soon, are you?"

He knew without having to check that he was weaponless, but he did so anyway. He only succeeded in making the chains scrape jarringly against the cement floor. Who the hell still uses chains and manacles? He cast another crazed glance at his surroundings, wondering frantically where he was, what had happened. A bare bulb overhead cast dim, dusty light into the room, barely enough to see by, and set the vampire in eerie silhouette. The floor was cold cement, the walls cracked white tiles. No windows. One door.

"Go ahead and call for help," Angelus invited, voice low and soft and lilting. "Not much that can hear you round these parts."

"Where –?"

"Not important." The vampire eyed him, frowning just slightly. "Still dunno what it is about you that's got him so up in arms..."

"Wh-who?"

Angelus looked incredulous, surging to his feet. "Oh that's just great, that is. He's gone round the god damn bend, while you, on the other hand, sit there oblivious."

Xander took a guess. "This is about Spike?"

"Of course it is," was snapped back at him. "Isn't it always?"

"...The fuck?" He staggered to his feet at last, absently testing the length of the chains. He thought he might have enough leeway to take a few steps away from the wall they attached to, but for the moment the vampire's presence kept him in place. "What's going on?"

"Nothing to worry that pretty little head about, kid," Angelus shot back, reaching out to pat his cheek. Xander slapped the hand away, recoiling. "Ah, ah, ah! No way to treat future family members, is it?"

He had a retort on the tip of his tongue, suitably venomous, when all thought abruptly ground to a halt. "...Future what now?"

A nasty grin spread over the vampire's face. "Not saying I'm gonna do it right away, mind. But yeah. Reckon if I make you a vampire, one of two things'll happen. One: dear William gets a new consort and gets his head back in the game. Problem solved. Two: the taboo of fucking a human is lost, and he'll let me kill you. Also problem solved. I'm not the picky sort, tell you the truth. Either's fine with me."

Xander just stared at him in horror, his thoughts almost flat-lining. Because... Angelus turning him? Same way he'd turned Riley? He didn't think anything had ever struck him as so thoroughly repulsive. Even spending time with Spike – with all the unnaturalness that came hand-in-hand with that particular relationship – it had never even occurred to him that Spike might want to make him a vampire. Now he wondered why it hadn't, and whether he'd been naive – because he could quite clearly see in Angelus's face that this vampire, at least, wouldn't hesitate to carry out his word.

He shook his head mutely.

Angelus was losing interest, now that the obligatory tormenting was done with. He gave Xander another critical once-over – even now perplexed as to the source of his childe's fascination – before turning away with the slightest of sneers and exiting through the only door. It locked behind him.

Xander did not call out after him, despite the questions that burned in his mouth. Where was he? What was he doing here? What had happened? How long did he have? Survival instinct kept him silent. As bad as it was being left alone without answers, he didn't think Angelus's prolonged company would prove any better for him.

xxx

Turns out, Xander wasn't too good at mentally keeping track of time. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, for a start, and even after he'd woken there was no telling the time of day. Mostly he judged the passage of time by how hungry he got, and how many times he stretched the chains to their limits to shuffle into a corner of the grotty room and take a leak.

Clearly, Angelus wasn't all too practiced at keeping a mortal alive. He remembered to bring Xander food and water only twice in the days – Xander was sure it was days, but less sure about how many – that passed. The human made the mistake of uttering a defiant word to him, the second time, and received a careless backhand for his troubles that left him reeling and made eating painful. Not that that was much of a problem, with the whole being left to starve thing...

He made efforts to free himself, of course, but all of them fruitless. The chains were too deeply embedded in the walls to pull free, and he only succeeded in rubbing his wrists raw until they bled. Nor was there enough length to them to even reach the door – which, he acknowledged despondently, would be useless in any case.

The Initiative would be missing him by now. If he wasn't already presumed dead, he'd have been declared AWOL. He would have liked to think they were looking for him, but didn't seriously entertain the idea. Agents went missing more often than anyone liked to admit. It'd be impractical to comb the town for every single one. Besides, he was only a lowly field agent. Hardly a priority.

Sometimes, as he began to drift in and out of exhausted, fitful sleep, he thought he might be able to accept dying at the hands of a demon. Hazard of the job, after all. No one joined the Initiative with any real expectations of making it to a ripe old age, even if he hadn't been made to confront the fact before now.

No, it was Angelus's threat – the thought of becoming one of them – that threw him into real despair, and swirled in his head, in his dreams, until he saw nothing in his mind's eye but the yellow gaze of the demons.