Buffy was worried. Xander hadn't returned home last night. He wasn't at
any of his usual haunts, and no one had seen or heard from him. First
Willow, now Xander. And the slayer had absolutely no idea what was going
on. Given time, she would unearth the evil--be it alive, dead, or
somewhere in between--that had stolen her friends away. But she wasn't
sure she had time. In fact, she had a gnawing feeling that time was
running out.

In the dead and weedy garden outside the mansion, Angel watched the sure
signs of hysteria welling up in Buffy's eyes. He moved close to her and
pulled her into his arms.

"What the hell is going on? I don't understand any of this," she said
against his chest.

"I don't know, but we'll figure it out," he told her.

She pulled away, "How, when we don't even know where to start? We don't
even know if they're alive!"

"Buffy," Angel drew her back to him, "Come on, baby. We have to keep a
clear head. It's the only way we'll be able to help them."

The slayer had never felt so weak, so ineffectual, and it scared her.
She trembled as her nerves began to fray. Angel crushed her to him,
willing her to draw from his strength, willing her to hang on. Slowly,
she calmed herself. Angel relaxed his hold on her and looked down into
her eyes. She smiled weakly.

"We will find them," he told her. "We will."
***
"What are you going to do with him?" Xander heard Willow's voice from
across the room as he feigned sleep.

He had worked all day at loosening the ropes that bound his wrists and
had succeeded in creating enough slack to pull one wrist free. After
freeing the other hand, he'd untied the knots at his ankles and left the
rope wound loosely around them. He would choose his moment carefully. He
had to get back to Buffy and tell her what was going on. Then they could
extract Willow from this mess.

A minuscule voice in a corner of his mind told him his childhood friend
didn't deserve saving. She had willingly helped Spike, stood by while
the son of a bitch had nailed him, gone eagerly to his bed where they'd
fucked half the day away. Hell, she'd probably gotten off on the fact
that he could hear every moan and scream.

But a louder voice told him how much better it would be to save Willow.
When Spike was well and truly gone, they could bring her around. She'd
spend the rest of her life agonizing over what she'd put him through,
begging his forgiveness. He might even concede eventually, but things
would never again be the same between them. She'd have to deal with that
loss for the rest of her life. He wanted it to be a long misery.

Xander pushed back his fantasies as he heard Spike's low voice.

"The slayer must be out of what passes for her mind," Spike was saying.
"We'll hang onto him."

"You won't turn him?" Willow asked.

Spike looked at her distastefully, "And have that wanker following us
around for the rest of eternity? Not bloody likely! I'll tell the boys
to make a snack of him, though. Just enough to keep him weakened. If
they can tolerate the taste of his blood, that is."

Xander heard Willow's giggle and silently damned her. His ears caught
the sound of receding footsteps, and he opened one eye cautiously. They
were heading for the doorway. Spike stepped out of the room ahead of
Willow. Deciding it was now or never, Xander swept away the loosened
ropes from his feet. He bolted from the chair and raced to the doorway.
Willow turned in astonishment, and he flung her against the wall with
all the strength he possessed. Willow yelped and crumpled to the floor.

Spike and half a dozen of his boys were on him before he ever reached
the corridor. Spike's game face emerged. Growling savagely, he hit
Xander with enough force to send him flying across the room. Xander
heard the crunching of bones as he landed on his side. Spike's minions
seized him. One of them threw his fist squarely into Xander's face, and
the would-be escapee heard the sickening sound of cartilage breaking.
The vampires hauled him to his feet. Xander gasped at the pain in his
side where his ribs had cracked. Blood was pouring copiously from his
nose.

"Hold him," Spike ordered.

Xander's ribs screamed for him to remain still as his attackers held him
in a vise-like grip. Spike bent over Willow and placed two fingers on
her neck. She was out cold, but her pulse was strong. He rose and strode
over to the man who had injured his lover.

"You sodding bastard," Spike snarled. "I ought to rip out your throat."

Xander's body was wracked with such pain, he almost hoped Spike would
make good on his threat, but his heart constricted in his chest as the
blonde vampire's gaze dropped to Xander's pants.

"Off," Spike barked.

Xander was powerless to stop the minions has they unfastened and
stripped off his pants. His eyes widened in frightened terror as Spike
grabbed up a brass candlestick.

"Turn him," Spike ordered.

"No!" Xander screamed as he felt the cold metal against his bare ass. He
struggled helplessly in the minions' grasp as as they bent him over the
chair from which he had so recently freed himself.

"You bloody bastard. I'm going to show you what happens to people who
hurt what's mine," Spike's voice was low and hard.

He nodded at the two minions who were standing on either side of
Xander's half-naked body. They grabbed his legs and pried them apart.

"No! God, no!" Xander begged with the little breath he could draw from
his aching ribs. He screamed as he felt the tearing of tissue as the
brass candlestick was rammed, full-length, into his anus. Spike's boys
held fast to the writhing man as their master withdrew the weapon of
torture and slammed it back in.

Xander felt a trickle of blood trailing down his legs as his mind
succumbed, first to shock, and then to unconsciousness. The minions
dropped him to the floor.

Spike looked down in satisfaction at the young man's broken body.

"Clean him up," he snapped. "And lock him in the basement."

He moved back to Willow and carefully lifted her in his arms. He carried
her to the bedroom and undressed her and placed her under the covers.
He ran his hands down her body, checking for broken bones. His mind
eased with the knowledge that she was whole. Brushing away a strand of
hair, he leaned over to kiss her softly. She moved slightly beneath him
and opened her eyes. They registered confusion, but they were clear.

"Spike?" she whispered. "What happened?"

"That bastard took you out, luv," he told her. "We're lucky he didn't
kill you."

"Xander? He hurt me?" she asked, searching her memory. "I remember. I
turned around, and he was there. He--"

"I know, baby," Spike hushed her. "You're all right, though. Nothing's
broken."

"Did you kill him?" she asked, half in fear, half in dread.

"No, pet, but he wishes I had," he promised her. "Anyone who ever hurts
you will regret it."

Willow reached up to caress his cheek, and he took her hand and brought
it to his lips.

She smiled wickedly, and Spike's still heart nearly jumped.

"Well, if I'm okay, why don't you come down here?" she suggested.

Spike chuckled and joined her in the bed.

End.

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