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.
Dedicated to tempestsreach who inspired the story and deserves all the hugs that one could provide.
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Leather and Lace
Gunn was already dead. He turned and tried to move toward Angel, to assist as his Grandsire wielded the sword and faced the creature just as recklessly and as bravely as a legendary St George. Sadly the outcome was not to be the same.
He felt Angel's passing, barely able to see the dust begin to fall through his own tears as an iron fist grabbed him around the neck and took him by force. Spike slid through the vortex, it wasn't intentional. He had seen it open next to Illyria and her blue figure being tugged toward it and had no time to scream his protest as his world went black.
The barely conscious Spike struggled to comprehend his surroundings as a servant of the newly reinstated deity spoke over him, "It is The God Illyria's defender - the Pet… He must be tended to."
The nausea of portal travel, the grief of losing his friends, the utter devastation and emptiness his demon felt at the loss of his Grandsire, left him temporarily unable to stand or even respond. His disorientation complete as the shift in dimensions also found him around the size of a lap dog in comparison to those in the room that were tending to him.
His game face disappeared as he was injected with something. He was vaguely aware of the huge tentacles and strange appendages that affixed a collar, restraints and adornments but he was still struggling to understand who they were referring to "The High One's personal favorite". Utterly confused and still suffering nausea, he was tugged across the stone floor, pushed into a gilded cage and carried to an enormous hall to have his cage suspended to the left of… Illyria. He watched in horror as the shell of Fred morphed into her original enormous multi armed form.
For all his feigned disinterest as Wesley struggled with Fred's loss, Spike was an intellectual and one that cared for the beautiful scientist. Of all the team at Wolfram and Hart, Spike had spent more time with the ex God (ess). As he saw the tentacles immerging, he recognized the being immediately. It may not have been in the shell of Fred any more, but he could smell it, she was still… something he knew. In his hazed awareness he sniffed the air again. In the bizarre new dimension he resided in, it was at least… familiar.
Hanging high above what appeared to be a concert hall of several thousand enormous beings, he gave in to old human habits and curled up into a fetal position.
Some time into the meeting, one of her large blue tentacles squashed its way through the golden bars of his jail and stretched out to stroke his bound arms, then his face. Spike shivered at the caress and muttered a vehement, "Bloody Hell!" under his breath before allowing tears to fall then sob openly as the fronds held him fast and the suckers on one tentacle fixed on his turning mark and began to pulse.
………..
Spike had a privileged position, his role as Pet was one Illyria had long intended him to take, even though initially disappointed that she had to bind him before her seed encouraged his enthusiasm. As recommended by her advisors, the cage was placed on the floor beside her and the base of his cage replaced by a large human-like breast. It did seem to sooth her lovely Pet and she was fascinated that a half breed would respond to such comfort but pleased by his eventual compliance.
Before the teat, his arms were initially bound, he resisted all efforts to feed him and eventually, drugged and semi-conscious again, he was force fed. Then his floor was changed
He was compelled by overwhelming hunger, to seek out and suckle the teat on the soft organ he was comforted by. Initially it was on his knees, confused, but within days, he needed no encouragement. Unbound he learned that stroking and gently squeezing the living, feeding organ resulted in a faster provision of the rich mixture. Spike quickly learned that the soft warm surface provided him with welcome heat and comfort. It was soft like the old leather of his duster and the liquid from the teat, though not human or animal blood, seemed to satisfy his new craving, though in the back of his mind he knew he was still hungry.
The liquid was addictive, wonderful and provided a sense of such euphoria and after drinking it quickly became his habit to lie resting his cheek against the warm organ. He was convinced he could hear a pulse through the silky skin.
It was only a matter of weeks before his time in the cage was dominated by feeding, nuzzling and taking comfort from his soft living floor, often falling asleep still suckling and pawing his feeding teat like a tiny child.
Now, when the cage was opened, he knew to open himself to her attentions. High on her intoxicating liquid, he rode, swallowed and caressed the massive tendrils again and again, welcoming them as they entered every orifice, stroking every one of his erotic locations simultaneously, and preventing him from coming until she willed it.
After every one of their sessions, his was carried to another cathedral sized room where, semi aware and sated, he submitted to her minions while they washed, massaged, and stimulated him to readiness again. Erect and suitably prepared for his Mistress, he would then be returned to his cage to feed and fall asleep on his living pillow.
After three months of being filled, he realized intuitively, that the teat contained the Goddess' own seed. In his more lucid moments he comprehended that every feeding moved him one step closer to completely losing himself and to dust, and yet he was beginning not to care.
The call of the Mistress was all. Whenever it was required, he lay in front of her throne and smiled as impossibly strong anaconda like tendrils snaked around every limb and his torso, holding him fast as he was entered and filled in all ways, occasionally being allowed to find completion before sated sleep engulfed him. Her audience tolerated her indulgences, initially fascinated by the small creature whose face changed as he was stimulated, but eventually they simply ignored him.
In his more lucid moments, Spike still raged against his situation, planned his escape and tried to access his demon. He justified to himself that by accepting her attentions willingly, he would achieve freedom in the end. But he had no clear picture of where he was, nor did he have any idea of how he would make an escape. As he pressed his lips over the massive teat and accepted her juices once more his last thought was a frightening moment of truth. He was dying yet yearned for the attentions of the monarch more than he wanted freedom and life.
Each time he took of her fluids, the mere thought of her entering him had him aching. Despite attempts to banish the rebellious thoughts, the idea of the length and thickness of her entering tendrils caused him to harden. And even her most innocuous touch now resulted in him instantly arching and pushing against her begging with his body, regardless of the many hundreds of observers that graced her court on that day.
Illyria was most pleased by her Pet. Though over time watched as he faded. The effects of her seed kept him compliant and 'happy', but she was distressed as his condition worsened. She began to miss the feisty vampire she seemed to remember from her short time on the Earthly plane.
Her affection for the half breed had been as much to do with his willingness to challenge her as it was his pleasing physical form. Now both had faded. The formerly irreverent, passionate, fighter for good, had consistently lost weight. Weight he did not have to lose. Her seed could not truly sustain her Pet, despite its effects on his psyche, and with no human or earthly animal blood available in her dimension, Spike now struggled even to stand, lying pliant and listless in her strong grip. Her physicians warned that her Pet would be dust… soon(!) unless returned to his own dimension.
So when a powerful magical force stimulated the dimensional link, she allowed the fading vampire to slip back into his cage, but not before a final feeding and a two day session of caresses and coupling that left the blonde vampire sobbing before falling into a coma as he registered her goodbye.
Xander had simply been visiting Los Angeles, taking a side trip to settle some of his parents' matters after their demise in Sunnydale almost two years on. Wolfram and Hart had been recommended to him by Buffy. Her new Italian boyfriend had apparently mentioned them as they dealt with 'unusual cases', and Angel was supposedly in charge. He was stunned by the news, but really did not take much notice of the details and figured that at least they would know about Hellmouth issues.
He was amazed that his mention of Angel's name saw him in a meeting with one of their top lawyers but a day after the call to the offices.
He nervously carried all the documentation he had been able to recover from the insurance company - statements of ownership of property, birth and death certificates and government statements issued to survivors of the 'cataclysmic Sunnydale Earthquake'.
A statuesque brunette stood as he was ushered into her office by a pretty young receptionist that had stunning purple eyes, and that he could have sworn, eyelids that blinked from side to side. He dismissed the thought as an immaculately dressed, statuesque brunette stood and stepped from behind an enormous desk. Her obviously expensive silk scarf was expertly wound around an elegant neck and seemed to float behind her as she walked him over to the plush leather lounge suite. He was impressed by the apparent courtesy and relaxed as Lilah Morgan began a surprisingly informal meeting.
Lilah was quick to mention that Angel was currently 'absent' but that any friend of Angel's would be looked after by the firm and concerns regards fees could easily be dispelled.
Despite all that, hours later Xander realized what it was that set off his 'squick meter'. He had never mentioned the Scoobies, or Willow, or Anya, or how he had lost his eye, or the Hellmouth, or being a demon magnet, much less his association with Spike… or… anything really. Yet Lilah seemed extraordinarily well informed, and keen to have him 'on board'.
It was finally her repeated mention of his various liaisons with demons and his friendship with Spike that caused him to cut the meeting short. He thanked her politely, sent his best regards to Angel (at which she smirked for some reason), promised to consider her offer, and left the building as fast as he could.
He rang Buffy immediately after the meeting, but it was late in Rome, the slayer was out, and he ended up talking to Andrew. The newly appointed watcher was just as confusing to talk to as he had always been, so the strong 'stay away' regarding Wolfram and Hart was rather lost in cagey references to the clandestine activities of the new Watchers' Council, something about crazed Slayers and self promotional statements about Andrew's own recent liaisons and activities. Xander eventually gave up and left a simple message to 'say Hi' to Buffy and Dawn.
The following day the ex-Scoobie was back in Lilah's office, this time not missing the scar that looked strangely like her throat had been slit and feeling an old Scoobie sixth sense regards her not-quite-human status.
"What do you want of me…? Because, gotta say, not a fighter for anyone these days."
"Mr Harris, you are a survivor of the original Hellmouth on this continent… indeed apparently you are one of it's original 'champions'. But we don't need your fighting skills, merely that you might deliver a message and return to us with an item." Lilah smiled but the act did not meet her eyes.
"All you need to do is deliver this message and pick up the payment owed to our company for returning the deity to her realm."
"And…"
"Illyria's aid has agreed to the payment – but will not enter our dimension – hence your task."
"But I…"
"Need the services of Wolfram and Hart right now – which I am happy to provide – though I am sure that an unemployed carpenter might be somewhat challenged by our normal fee. You do this and we will wave the fees entirely.
"I'm sure you have had more difficult assignments in your former experiences Mr Harris. Simply go there, speak to Falena and return with the jewel." She threw him a photo of an enormous sapphire.
The blue jewel seemed to be set into the base of a thrown apparently occupied by a very large relative of the octopus. He also saw a human figure in a cage beside the creature. It gave some unfortunate information regarding the perspective of the image and Xander felt suddenly very, very cold. He had already nodded his agreement but instantly began to list off all the rotten decisions he'd made as a teenager, hardly registering the rest of the conversation.
"It shouldn't be too hard – as a child of the Hellmouth I'm sure you will cope. Just rub the amulet anticlockwise three times when you have the item – it will bring you home.
"Oh and by the way Mr Harris, if you don't die trying, you will be a very rich man when you return. I'm sure the Senior Partners are more than happy to compensate you for any 'inconvenience' the dimensional jump and your services incur… shall we say half a million dollars?"
Xander gulped and nodded absently as he accepted the talisman that would bring him back, then belatedly realized what had immediately begun happening. He looked back in horror as his legs were first tugged then suddenly began to disintegrate. He finally gave up all dignity and cried out as he saw and felt his body apparently vaporizing from the toes up. Despite Lilah's evil grin he held onto the talisman with an iron grip in one hand and the note to the 'deity' from Wolfram and Hart, complete with a printout of the picture of the required stone in the other.
Seconds later he lay in front of the most frightening giant demon he had ever encountered. He did the only thing his body was capable of, given the dimensional change and the shock of circumstance. He passed out.
……………..
Xander woke at the feet of the God Illyria.
He did the only thing he think of, he knelt, stayed down, asked for Falena and held out the note.
The next time he awoke it was in an ornate cage on a pulsing soft surface, beside another male.
The skeletal form was attempting to feed from some sort of teat, but seemed unable to even lift his own head. The sickly figure turned toward him, and Xander gasped. Spike was dead… at least… according to Andrew and even once or twice before that, he couldn't remember… but now… this…. as a child of the Hellmouth he thought he should have known.
……………
He came too again and knelt up rather groggily as he realized he was in the open in front of the throne once more.
Illyria was petting the emaciated human figure he had seen the night before, and her booming voice was felt by Xander at gut level, though at least the message was clear. "The half breed, my pet, is failing. He has been most satisfactory. I would not have him dust, so release him into your care. You will keep and pleasure him. If he survives I will ensure you are rewarded. He has brought me pleasure at a time of adjustment, that is unusual for a Pet in our realm. I would have him well.
"Falena has informed me, and as the messenger for the Senior Partners you are, of course, always welcome in my kingdom. Please tell your Senior Partners that I now owe no-one, and am Lord of my domain once more. I thank the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart for allowing my escape even though my other form… was … limited."
Xander tried to memorize all he had to convey as he was handed the egg sized sapphire then was led to the ornate cage, where the emaciated, naked and bound figure with long blonde hair now lay curled around a feeding post, at least that was Xander's first impressions. It took only moments before Illyria began to pleasure her willing counterpart to awareness before lifting him and placing the form in Xander's strong arms along with the sapphire and an old leather coat.
As disturbing as the whole scenario was, Xander was not prepared for the realization of just who the compliant figure was. He held the waif thin vampire to his chest and vaguely rubbed the amulet, happily finding himself and his burden in his LA hotel room on the bed seconds later.
He released Spike onto the bed and raced to the bathroom to throw up. As Xander washed his face he began to realize the enormity of what he now had to do and for whom.
It was Spike. He had had feelings for Spike in the final weeks of Sunnydale, they had come to 'know' each other as soldiers about to die sometimes do. He had grieved for him. And now he had to nurse him back to health, he had promised. A devil's bargain perhaps, but a promise nevertheless.
He turned and looked at the figure curled up on the bed around the old duster, shivering. Regardless of promises, he would never let a friend down if it was in his power to help.