Cost Benefit Analyzing 1/5
Title: Cost Benefit Analyzing
Genre: Vague Slash, Angst
Warning: Nothing specific, but referenced to torture.
Pairing: Angelus/Xander (and not in the fuzzy, warm Angelusy way)
Rating: Hard R
Part: One of Five (but don't quote me on that)
Summary: Long after the fall of the partners in LA and the closing of the Sunnydale Hellmouth, Xander wakes up to find himself in the hands of a man determined to change the balance of power... and willing to use Xander as the pawn he needs to get his way.
I wanted to work on "In the Dark" which was an angst piece with Angel and an injured Xander, but the prompt "mime" over at
tamingthemuse just led me in a different direction.
Xander woke up groaning. It took him a second to parse through the recent past to try and decide if this was self-inflicted or one more example of the universe hating him. Willow's engagement party had been a good month earlier and the wedding wasn't for at least a year. Giles' birthday party had been way too boring to lead to hangovers, and Buffy and the Immortal weren't having another anniversary party for eight months, and Xander swore that he was leaving that one before the g'nashka demons started passing out that fruity wine that gave you that extra special hangover. Since he couldn't come up with any recent celebration that would have caused this much pain, Xander was forced to admit that the universe was probably, once again, playing with him like a toy full of catnip.
Slowly, he blinked open his eyes and studied his surroundings. Absent: black candles, ritual pentagrams, and alters with horned gods. Good. Present: chains and satin sheets on a king sized bed. Bad. Or possibly good. Xander had a pretty small list of lovers, but this might be up Rick's alley. But then Rick was still in India tracking down something hairy and big that ate Slayers before their powers could activate in adolescence. Either Rick was back early, or Xander was screwed. Royally screwed. And with the satin sheets, that might not be a metaphor.
"Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes. I had wondered how long you would leave me to amuse myself."
"If I go back to sleep, will you go back to amusing yourself and leaving me alone?" Xander asked hopefully. Considering how this guy looked, he really wasn't looking to be part of the amusement. Wrinkles lined his face so deeply that the skin folded and gave the guy a shar-pei look, and eyes that had once been dark were now filmy and watery. This guy must be about a hundred. Then again, if he had demon in him, he might be a thousand, but however old he was, he was really, really old... and disgusting. Xander was definitely noticing the disgusting part.
The man chuckled. "You can hardly be uncomfortable given the number of times you have put yourself in that position. What is his name? Mike?"
"Rick," Xander corrected the guy before his brain pointed out that he really shouldn't be giving the creepy guy more information on his life. "First, I am more than a little freaked out that you would know that because ancient and potentially magical stalkers are on my list of 'no'," Xander said as he watched the man turn and shuffle toward a far shelf. "And second, no offense, but you are so not my type."
"Ah, and what is your type, young cub? Tall and strong and dominant?"
"Okay, officially into the off-limits and creepy zone, here," Xander complained. A few subtle pulls and he could tell right now that he was not going to be freeing himself from the chains. On top of that, the lack of windows or even a door in the room suggested that he probably needed magic to escape, and he was fresh out.
"But your life is all about the creepy, young one. Good lord, you really are so very young," he chuckled as he shuffled back to the bed. The room was illuminated by a single bulb dangling from its electrical cord from the ceiling, which was really weird considering the Goth look in the rest of the room. The walls were stone stained with white trails from dripping water, and heavy wooden furniture lined the walls. Xander was most worried about a tall armoire in the far corner. The shelves had books and vials, which were scary enough, but a closed armoire could hide anything from a body to a nice whip collection. "I can't ever remember being so young," the old man laughed softly as he reached the bed and sat on the edge.
He was dressed in a black robe that made Xander think of a judge, and the idea of getting judged worried him about as much as the satin sheets and the closed armoire. Emaciated hands stained with age spots reached up for his eye patch, and Xander jerked as it was neatly slipped off.
"Okay, that is just totally unnecessary. An empty eye socket and air are not always friends. You may not have heard of a little thing called a virus, but let me..."
"Enough," the old man said, resting a dry finger on Xander's lips. "You choose to not get a prosthetic because you would rather show off your injury."
"I don't--" Xander started, ignoring the warning glare from the filmy, old eyes.
"You do. You would show off your injury as proof that you are as committed as the others, that you are as willing to sacrifice for the good. You do this because you secretly fear that you are not. Buffy fights to save the world. You fight to save your world, and your world is so very small."
Xander had worried waking up chained to a bed, but not really panicked. Panic was reserved for when things got really bad, but now, caught in the path of that much honesty, something close to panic started grabbing him around the heart so that he had trouble breathing. He stared up at the man who now pulled a stopper out of a crystal vial.
"I do not say that you are not as committed. I know you are. I do believe you doubt yourself. However, this is not something I am willing to leave untended. You'll need both your eyes to watch out for yourself. And I do hope you watch out for yourself, boy," the old man said with just a hint of amusement as he tilted the vial over Xander's head. About a second too late, Xander thought about turning his head. The drop touched his empty eye socket and the burning pain engulfed his skull. It reached down his neck and pulled his guts up through his nose. Xander threw up all over himself.
The pain continued for some minutes before it slowly ebbed, and Xander realized he was screaming, his throat hoarse and vomit covering his chest and the sheets. The sour stink nearly made him vomit again, and that really wasn't being helped by the dry hand rubbing his leg.
"Bad touching," Xander croaked out. The old man withdrew his hand.
"Look at me Xander." Xander stared at the blank ceiling and tried to avoid even thinking about the red chunks laying all around him. Licorice was not as good coming up as it was going down.
"Boy!" the old man snapped in a tone of voice that demanded Xander's attention, and Xander looked quickly at him. The old man shook his head and reached out to again lay a hand on Xander's leg as Xander was hit with a wave of vertigo so strong he nearly vomited again. His eye was back and his brain hurt at the suddenly three-dimensional view of the world. "I do know how that hurts."
Xander didn't even bother to answer.
"You made so many sacrifices. So very many. It seems strange to give you back that loss and not others, but then you've already learned the foolishness of trying to return the dead to this earth, haven't you my boy?"
And now Xander was even more with the not answering because this was just getting to creepy levels that were new for even him, and considering that he'd once had a date try to use him to open hell, that wasn't good. The old man pulled another vial down from a shelf before coming back to the bed and eying Xander with a rather disgusted look. "I suppose I deserve this for what I'm about to do, but cleaning up your vomit was certainly never in my contract," he sighed as he put the vial down and pulled a cloth out of his robes.
As he cleaned Xander, calloused hands brushed across Xander's skin, and his balls did their best to rejoin the rest of his organ inside. A cold shiver of revulsion made him jerk hard enough to rattle the chains, and the old man paused for a second before continuing at his task.
Finally Xander was somewhat cleaned. At least he had nothing more than streaks of vomit across his chest. The old man dropped the cloth in a far corner and picked up a vial. A few drops and a mist spread across Xander and the bed, and when it cleared, Xander was again clean and vomit-free.
"Look, whatever is on the agenda, can we just get it over with? I have a root canal that I'd really hate to be late for," Xander said through tightly clenched teeth.
The old man sighed. "This next part is the part I do hate."
"Can't say I'm looking forward to it myself because ick. Just tell me that we aren't talking some dumb ass mystical pregnancy here; even the Council health insurance has limits."
"The mystical pregnancy has already come and gone," the old man said sadly. Xander just blinked for a second and tried really hard to not think about that too much.
"Look, I'm obviously not going anywhere, so what do you say that you just do this and then toss me out to have my emotionally crushing breakdown and then get on with life."
"I am sorry, my boy." The old man looked at Xander so seriously that Xander could almost believe him, except for the part where the man was still doing this. "You should not always have to be the one to make the sacrifice, but who would you put in your place? Dawn?"
"No!" Xander jerked furiously and glared at the man. "You touch Dawn and I'll rip your balls off," Xander threatened. Yep, it was totally worthless as far as threats went, but the old man still nodded as though taking Xander seriously.
"I told you so," he said with some smugness before he returned to the bookcase and the mysterious vials. Picking up one in a disgusting shade of baby poop green, he walked to the foot of the bed.
Holding the vial out, he dropped the entire vial and the green smoke filled the room, snakes of green smoke writhed and snapped and then collapsed to the ground and vanished.
"Cheap special effects," Xander muttered, and the old man chuckled.
"Not so cheap," he corrected Xander as he pulled a cloak off the wall and carried it to the foot of the bed. Xander couldn't see, but it looked like the old man had laid it over someone or something.
"Where?" a rough voice asked.
"Hush. You were caught between two planes. The old god tried to open a portal, either to allow you to escape or to push the demons to another world, who knows. Instead she trapped all of you."
"I'm trapped here?" The man stood, and Xander groaned in humiliation as his cock shrunk more. Of course, Angel. Precious Angel. Never did know how to stay dead Angel.
"I saved you from the void," the old man corrected him.
"What? Why?" Angel slowly started looking around, and he froze when he spotted Xander chained to the bed.
"Deadboy," Xander said grimly, trying for normal. It really wasn't easy given the circumstances.
"Xander? What?"
"You really aren't that bright, Angel. I would say the 'what' would be an evil wizard with a vial in a dungeon," Xander pointed out in his best 'Clue: The Board Game' voice, "and of course it's me."
Angel turned to look at the old man who was leaning against the wall. When Angel flashed into gameface and lunged, Xander jerked so hard that his wrist popped and started aching, but the old man didn't flinch at all. Of course, he probably already knew that Angel was going to rebound off some magical barrier and end up just looking confused. Angel reached forward and slid his hand along some invisible barrier looking like a demonic and mentally retarded mime playing 'look at me, I'm in a box.' And Xander's wrist hurt too much for him to suitably appreciate a befuddled and stupid-looking Angel.
"What do you want?" Angel snapped. "Xander, I'll get us out of this."
"Oh, yippee. Deadboy's going to rescue me," Xander said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. This was just looking worser and worser from his perspective. If the old man had shown a distinct disinterest in raping him, then Angel being here was probably not a coincidence.
"Shut up," Angel snapped.
"Now, now, is that any way to speak to the young man destined to be your salvation?" the old man asked with a fond chuckle.
"What?" Angel dropped back into his human face.
"No more being caught between a soul and a demon. No more doubts. Oh yes, Xander is going to do you quite a service." The old man tossed a small vial to the stone floor where it shattered and the smoke created a column around Angel, nearly hiding him before the vapor settled back to the floor, and when Angel turned around again, Xander knew exactly how screwed he was. Oh yes, he did. That was the smile he hated even more than he hated the brooding one's brood. Fuck and double fuck with fudge on top.
"If it isn't the white knight. Where's your princess to save you now, boy?" the vampire asked with a smirk. Slowly he turned toward the wizard. "Let me out of here or you'll pay by eating your own innards."
"Angelus," Xander sighed.
"Quiet boy. You speak when you're spoken to," Angelus snapped as he went into gameface.
"Or what? Or you'll torture me to death? Hello! You're going to anyway if the wizard lets you out of that magical cage you're in, so the threats... not really threatening, more like just simple statements of fact."
"Well, well," Angelus said as he shifted to look at Xander with a calculating gaze. "The boy might have grown a few brain cells after all because you are going to die boy. You're going to die slowly and painfully and very creatively." That evil smile turned toward the wizard. "What do you want, mage?"
"To put right the order of the universe. A vampire with a soul... that's just not natural."
"You're telling me? But the soul is still here, mage." Angelus sounded disgusted. "It's squirming away in my guts like the pathetic worm it is."
"Ah, but if you have a moment of perfect happiness, it won't be."
Angelus narrowed his eyes and glared. "Speak plainly unless you want me to rip your tongue out."
"Okay, even you can't miss the symbolism here, idiot," Xander said as he kicked a chained foot. If he was going to die, he might as well get Angelus good and mad so he broke Xander's neck fast. Hopefully he'd even die before Angelus got around to the raping, and while Xander was hugely squicked at the idea Angelus would probably still go through with raping a dead body, he'd be a whole lot more squicked at living through the rape. The old man walked over and patted him on the leg as Xander glared.
"The boy is so much like Angel. He would even try to provoke you into killing him the way Angel once tried to provoke Spike when Spike had captured him. Do you not find it amusing that in rutting with him, with breaking and feasting on his blood after months of existing in nothingness, you can find perfect happiness?" Xander looked at the old man in horror. This guy was Angelus level creepy.
Angelus' gaze grew more calculating. "If you're lying..." he said slowly.
The mage shook his head and held up an orb. "I even plan to trap the soul and hold it here. We are in a dimension that even Ms. Rosenberg's magic can't reach, so she won't be able to ensoul you again. And after her recent purification ritual, she will not want to dirty herself by using dark magics to destroy you, especially not with her new bride now knitted to her soul. So, what do you say?"
"What do you want in return?" Angelus demanded as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Destroy the slayer line."
Angelus slowly smiled. "All of them?"
"All of them," the mage repeated firmly. "No playing your games. You take the easy kills when you can get them. You play with the ones you can't."
"They'll all be easy," Angelus said with a wicked smile that made Xander turn cold.
"You can't turn him loose on the world. You don't know," Xander started arguing, and the old man laughed.
"I know too well, my boy. I know exactly who Angelus is and that's why he will be my champion. I even have a gift for him."
"Open this cage," Angelus said as he slapped the force field keeping him trapped in the center of the room. "That's gift enough for me."
"Oh, but this is special." The old man reached into his robes and pulled out a knife. "You'll like this. Have you heard of an oporotheca? It's old magic. Very powerful. To create one requires magic the likes of which does not now exist on earth. But one may pass the gift to another."
The old man reached down and rested his hand on Xander's shoulder, and with the chains, Xander couldn't even shake him off. "The word is Latin. It means a place for keeping fruit, and it turns the human body into a feast for a vampire. Of course, it requires a touch of an old one's blood so the human will live longer." The old man bent over and studied Xander's face carefully. "I doubt you will see a long life as much of an advantage in the years to come," the old man mused.
"Willow is going to find you and turn you into little tiny pieces of mage kibble," Xander warned darkly as he watched the old man's knife. The old man flicked the knife against his thumb and a drop of bluish blood rose to the surface.
"I doubt it," the old man said calmly. "If she does, I have certainly earned my death, so I cannot complain. But certain needs must be bought at certain costs, and you, my boy, are the cost this time." He brought the knife to Xander's neck and Xander went cross-eyed trying to watch the man cut a matching notch at the place where his breastbones met.
"Let us hope I get this right. Latin is not my forte," the old man said in an almost friendly tone that was really starting to wig Xander out. "Viva vox, caelestis. Viva vox, deus. Viva vox, lares. Ego go tribuo is donum ut is puer." The old man pressed his thumb to Xander's neck, and when blood touched blood, Xander's whole body stiffened like the time he had grabbed a live wire. His legs kicked, and his mouth opened, but nothing came out as some force grabbed him so tight that he thought his head would explode, and then it was over.
"Do you feel any different?" the old man asked.
Xander snorted. "Okay, I'm not really likely to tell you anything." Yeah, he might not be willing to admit it, but he did feel different. He felt younger, stronger. Trying to be subtle, he slowly tightened his fist and pulled against the chain seeing if he was stronger.
The old man gave Xander's shoulder a friendly pat and then stood up to face Angelus. "Xander might not want to willingly share, but he feels stronger... better. And his blood will be ambrosia to any vampire who drinks it. Last time you returned you were weak from Angel's ridiculous insistence on drinking animal blood. This time, you'll be strong, the magic from the old one coming through Xander's blood to you. The only thing I want from you is the slayer's line dead. Do that and you can bathe in the blood of virgins for all I care. Fail, and I will deliver your soul to Rosenberg myself."
Angelus slipped into his monster's face again. "Don't make threats you can't carry out."
"Oh, I can carry them out. After all, if you aren't nice to me, all I have to do is let you die in here because in case it's escaped your notice, there's no door. So, I let you out, you get to feast on the boy however you like, and I promise you his blood and pain will give *you* perfect pleasure, and then I put that soul away where no one finds it. Or I let you out, you kill me, and then you spend eternity in this place with only Xander as company... at least until he dies of old age at which time you will spend eternity with a slowly rotting corpse. Your choice." The old man waved a hand, and Angelus nearly tumbled to the ground as the barrier he'd been leaning on vanished.
For a second, Angelus stared at the mage, and Xander thought the insane vamp might actually kill the man. After a second, Angelus' gaze turned slowly to Xander, and then Xander knew that he really wasn't getting out of this. Angelus stalked forward. "Boy, you're about to pay for every stupid thing you've ever said, and there are as many stupid things that have come out of your mouth as there are bones in your body."
Xander swallowed and closed his eyes and braced himself for a whole lot of hurting.