Nobody expected me to die that morning more than I did. I was sure that, after a fairly short run, my time was finally up. I didn't tell anybody, nor did I stop trying to escape, but everything I did that night and the following morning had a certain... defeated feeling to it. Like I was already dead, and just waiting for the axe to fall and my soul to slip into oblivion.

Of course, most of it was my own damn fault. I should have tried to escape before they brought me back to the warehouse and put me into the reinforced cage. That would have been the optimum time to get away. Unfortunately, I just hadn't been able to give Heero any more grief, not on our last day, and not with him looking so tense. We had been kinda close, but I hadn't really thought my leaving would affect him. Or maybe it was my death he was so upset about. They seemed to coincide, really.

That night, as I lay in the itchy, stinking hay, I wondered if he thought of me. Stupid, huh? I mean, who cares if he's thinking of me? What can I do about it? Or how would I even know about it? But, I did wonder, and I saw his face again, with those haunting blue eyes, and I wondered if I'd ever see him again. I made a point not to wonder like that, because no one could ever tell what the next day held, and wishing only led to more pain. But, in what I thought to be my last hours, I couldn't help hoping to see those eyes again, if only for a minute.

The next day they darted me before I could even stand up. A precaution, I guess, because I was known to be most vicious right before a sale. I was almost glad for it, though, because I didn't really feel like being vicious today. I felt almost... defeated, even before the sale began. It was wholly unlike me, who always fought even against the worst odds. But perhaps my time was finally up.

They stripped me, something they hadn't bothered to do last night, ripping Heero's spare clothes off my body. I felt a twang of regret to see a gift handled so poorly, but I had known it was coming all along. If there weren't golden threads in the clothes, these people didn't give a damn about them. Speaking of gold thread, as soon as the comfortable clothes were gone they shoved me into a gold thong about six sizes too small, then oiled my body until they could barely keep a hold of me even when I wasn't struggling. The oil would have made an attempted escape easier if they had been dumb enough to put shackles on my wrists, but they weren't. They had been through this a couple of times with me, and so they put the collar around my neck and handcuffed my wrists behind me. I could break my wrists and get out of the cuffs, but breaking my neck to get out of the collar would kind of defeat the purpose.

Once that was done it was over to hair and make-up. The hair they really didn't do much to other than taking it out of the braid and brushing it. They knew from experience that I went wild if anything sharp came near my hair. The make-up was a different story, and I got the full works. They brushed gold powder on my face, put kohl and mascara on my eyes, gave me golden eyeshadow, and painted my lips a shimmering red color. All in all I was pretty, but it wasn't what I would have picked for myself. I guess they were trying to make it seem like I was worth my weight in gold, because that's what they were trying to sell me for.

Then it was off to my stage, or the big box with a glass window I was displayed in. I didn't have anything to do, since I had learned from experience that the guards would shove something unpleasant up my ass if I made faces at the potential buyers, but I was drugged enough that time went pretty fast. I don't think I saw Heero that day, which was a mixed blessing, but I could have simply been too drugged to recognize him. So there was the ever morphing image of masters in front of me, and then I was being dragged out of the box and onto the stage.

Now, don't get me wrong. I was perfectly aware that these were my last few minutes on Earth. But I will always be, even to my last breath, a showman. So, on stage in front of hundreds of masters who hated me for disgracing them and hundreds more who were disgusted by the waste I was about to become, I walked onto that stage with a shit eating grin on my face, stuck my tongue out, and flicked off the masses. There was a murmur of disapproval, though I heard a few scattered chuckles around. That's all I ask for, really, to piss off as many people as I can for the amusement of the few who can enjoy it.

The guards came out then, but I wasn't worried. They couldn't manhandle me on stage, in front of the customers. Instead, they dragged me, backwards and grinning like a loon, to a small stool, where I was supposed to wait patiently for five minutes, which was the time at which, if no bids had been made, I would be dragged to the back and quickly, quietly, and sanitarily killed. Not that I would be quiet. And, actually, with the way the guards were leering at me, I wasn't sure my death would be quick or sanitary either.

Sitting there, with my time ticking down, I figured I'd enjoy my last few breaths of air.

Which was when a one and an insane number of zeros appeared in red lettering on the board above me.

Now, Collar is far above the normal auctions, where people yell or pull their earlobe to signal a bid. In this auction, all the Masters sat behind a small desk and when they wanted to make a bid, they just typed in the number and the proper amount of zeros and hit the enter key. No muss, no fuss.

But... who the hell would waste that kind of money on me? Who had that kind of money to waste? And those were only a few of the questions that blew around in my, and apparently the shocked crowed before me's mind. Suddenly, one of the Masters rose. Looking closer, I could see the Duke standing before me, and hoped he wasn't the one who bought me. That guy was a real jackass.

My fears were put to rest, however, when the Duke began to laugh uproariously, garnering chuckles from the surrounding Masters.

"Who did it?" he shouted to the hall, still laughing. "Who's the upstart who wants to tame the Shinigami, hm? Who's naive enough to think that fucking the demon is worth the price of inviting him into your home?"

"That," the big blonde badass said in a strong voice, standing imposingly above the rest of the masters, "would be me."

The Duke burst out in laughter again, but this time he was alone. "So, my friend, you think you're ready to take on the devil? We'll see how you dance now!"

"With all due respect, I'm going to give it a try. And, if you don't mind my saying, I enjoy a challenge. Besides, you can't deny that the boy does have a million dollar body."

"Well," the Duke said, still chuckling, "I wish you luck. You'll need it," he said, and they both sat back down.

What the hell? Hadn't I tormented the blonde beast enough? I mean, I was certain when I left that he hated me, despite the one day of behaving myself. He couldn't possible think I would be that nice all the time, could he?

But who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? Hell, I'd never even seen a horse, but I was smart enough not to complain about a gift that had essentially saved my ass. Speaking of which, I complacently walked my skinny little ass over to sit down, calmly and obediently, beside my new master. I wasn't going to give him a reason to change his mind, not when I had just escaped death.

We slaves, of course, weren't allowed to sit next to our masters, but instead had to duck under the table and out of sight. It wasn't so bad, though, because there was a thick mat on the floor for us to lay on, but mainly because I found that Heero was already under the table waiting for me. The relief in his eyes upon seeing me put a knife in my chest; I hated hurting people, and only pain could come from growing attached to me. I mean, look at what had just happened. I almost died. Would he have been sad? Hurt? I didn't want that. But, then again, I didn't think I could push him away either. Despite not wanting to hurt him, I had grown fond of his presence. I felt that he was trustworthy, and I trusted very few people. I had gotten close to him, something I hadn't allowed since Solo, and I felt almost a physical need to be close to him. Hey, everybody needs somebody, right?

So... I'd wing it, just like I always did. Come hell or high water, I'd do whatever my gut told me to at the time and beat myself up about it later. The Shinigami motto, I supposed.

Heero and I sat together under the table, not touching but basking in the other's body heat, for at least another hour. The bidding still wasn't over, but Zechs gave a gruff snort and got up in a huff, leaving us to scurry after him. He still hadn't bought another slave, but after the amount he had spent on me I wasn't surprised. It wasn't the most ever spent for a slave at Collar, but it was fifth on the list. And that is one hell of a lot of money for one broken slave. Still, I kind of doubted that it was the money that kept the bid man from buying anymore. The master never struck me as the kind of person to make a bid he couldn't afford, and three minutes of deliberation should have been well enough for him to decide whether or not his bank account could support me. No, there just must not have been any slaves that interested him or something. I had to admit, after the first hour or so pickings at the auction tended to get slim. They sold their prize slaves, then just tried to force the warehouse trash off on somebody else. Most of the last slaves were used up, burned out, bitter, angry, and ugly. It was harsh, but true. If the master wanted a good slave now, he'd have to get one brand-new and freshly or not yet broken. And breaking a slave was about as much fun as handling me, for those who don't like to wield a whip and a heavy hand.

We went to a sort of reception after that, where we again sat on the floor while the butthead schmoozed and drank coffee with his buddies. Oh, I'm smart enough to know that half of it was political alliances and crap, but would it have killed him to pass a little coffee my way? Would he have died? I don't think so.

Anyway, once that was over I had to go back into the warehouse for the night, or at least until my new master's check cleared the bank. Then I was officially property of Prince I've-Got-My-Head-Up-My-Ass. I could only hope that the guards remembered that I could be returned if I showed up in worse condition than I was sold in. I didn't hold much hope, but I did hold some.

That night was the second night in a row that I had slept away from Heero, who had constantly snuck into my bed while I was with them, and the second night in a row that screaming nightmares haunted me. The next morning, obviously, I was tired, grumpy, and slow. Maybe, just maybe, if I hadn't been all three at the same time, the next day wouldn't have ended so disastrously.