Title: The More Things Change
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Concrit: by email please
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss and a bunch of lawyers. I'm just playing with them. No disrespect intended. No reflection on real persons or places intended. I'm not making any profit from this. This is strictly for entertainment.
Warnings/Squicks: Graphic descriptions of abuse and torture.
Summary: Xander goes to LA on a fact finding trip and finds Angelus instead. Scariness happens.
Previous chapters: Here
Notes: This doesn't strictly follow canon. Sooo if you don't like that sort of thing you might want to skip this. This is my first story so feedback is very welcome. Please send concrit by email.
Beta(s):The wonderful and gracious mwrgana Thank you and XOXOXOXO. All mistakes and looniness left are mine and mine alone.
Graphics: (size, and artist) Icon by moscow_watcher
He hung from the chains in haze of agony, he couldn't remember not feeling pain. One eye was swollen shut, and the other was almost as bad. He could see, sort of, in a blurry kind of way. His jaw might very well be broken, he could hardly open his mouth and he knew he had a few loose teeth. His head felt like an oversized melon on his shoulders and it kept dropping forward, chin to chest, because he didn't have any strength left to keep it upright.
His shoulder joints felt like they were torn from the sockets and his hands had long since become numb. Every breath sent a stabbing grating sensation through his chest. *Broken ribs most likely.* He knew for sure one leg was broken and possibly one of his arms.
Angelus had hit him with fists and what looked like an axe handle, over and over again. Then he had taken a whip to him. And delighted in licking the blood from the cuts and welts he made on his helpless vistim. His torso was mottled with blackened bruises and crisscrossed with bleeding welts that oozed and dripped. *Hurrah for the red, white and blue.* He thought inanely. *There's not much white left though.*
His back wasn't in any better shape, it felt like raw hamburger.
Then there were the bites. Angelus had savaged him with his teeth. His buttocks, back, thighs, abdomen and pectorals all had bite marks scattered across them. His neck was bite free for the moment.
Angel had returned to the Hyperion after he passed out on the couch. But wait, it wasn't Angel. The idiot LA gang had deliberately taken Angel's soul and let Angelus out, thinking that Angelus would help them with their Beast problem. He'd really like to find a way to thank them for that. But, then again, he didn't think he was going to live that long. He had accepted it. He knew there wouldn't be anyone coming to his rescue this time. The leaden fear in the pit of his belly had become common place. And the hate.
Angelus had carried him to this warehouse and hung him up like a side of beef and waited for him to wake up. The arrogant psychotic bastard. He was just beside himself with glee that he had a Scooby to play with. He knew that Buffy wasn't coming to LA and no one else knew Xander was here. He'd bragged about how he had escaped from the LA gang. He said he was going to deal with The Beast but he was going to do it for his own reasons. He was just happy as happy as could be with the situation in the city right now.
Between forays out to demon bars, trying to find The Beast and spying on Angel's friends he played with Xander.
Xander knew he wasn't going to last much longer between dehydration, blood loss and shock. But he wasn't going to go easy either. He was going to make the insane prick work for it despite the agony. He would endure.