Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things SPN belong to Eric Kripke, et al.
Author note: this is not a nice story slavery, hints of torture, mentions of past rape and consensual sex. Please do not read if this offends you. Also this story is definitely AU for Supernatural. Thanks Saren
Dawn Summers grew up on the Mouth of Hell that in itself that should prepare one for anything even hell. Besides she had a bodyguard, Illyria. Even in hell itself most things weren’t stupid enough to go against a hell god. They neared the center of the bazaar and veered off around where the slaves were kept. Humans and demons chained together in dirty cowered lines of suffering and pain that ended only in death. Dawn started to move away to the scrolls and books but then one of the slaves caught her eyes. He was naked, bruised eyes on the ground and in chains. Dawn hesitated, two could keep a secret if one of them were dead. She started to leave then hesitated, she couldn’t leave him there but she couldn’t let him believe he was anything but a slave.
Dean knelt on the stones chained in line with the others, the demons were selling. Six months of living hell had broken him, changed him. He no longer look any master in the eye didn’t speak unless spoken to or fight at least until they started doing something reprehensible. He shifted watching the shoppers feet as they passed him by. He’d given up on rescue. No one he knew had the resources to come find him even if they knew he was missing and the people who shopped here weren’t the kind to go looking to help. Feet stopped in front of him and jumbled words exchanged over his head. Then the demon jerked him to his feet. Sold, that was the only reason anyone was unchained during the day. Dean risked a glance at his new owner and froze in shock. It was human, a human woman with another woman. Tall slim brown hair pretty and what the hell were two human doing at a demon shopping fair. The slap to the face made him drop his eyes and bite his tongue as he listened to the clink of money exchanging hands. Then the leash clipped to his collar and for better or worse he had a new owner.
Dawn walked though the city in denial leading a naked man on a leash, a slave her slave on a leash was concerning. It made her feel queasy. She hadn’t planned on it. She passed a clothing stand and stopped so she could buy him something to wear. Even if he didn't have a choice in the matter it would make her feel better. Dawn went though the clothing searching for something in his size until she found jeans that looked like they might fit. Turning she commanded "put this on" and threw them at him. Then she turned back to the merchant to bargain for the Jeans. Illyria would see that the slave obeyed and didn't cause any problems. Dawn slammed down the feelings of guilt that surrounded her treatment of the slave. She hadn’t meant for the jeans to hit him in the face but she didn’t think he would be on his knees when she turned.
Dean followed behind his new owner or owners. He kept his eyes on the ground as they moved though the city. Only three months and more beatings then he wanted to remember taught him never to look up in the presence of his betters. He stumbled choking on the collar and almost ran into his owner as they stopped. He risked a quick glance up to see where they were and dropped back to his knees in the dirt. They stopped at a clothing stand and he wondered how he would be dressed if at all. Just in something she found amusing probably and certainly not something of his own choosing. This is when he would get the first hints of what he would be to her, just a slave worker in a field or her whore. Dean caught the jeans in the face and stopped himself from swearing.
"Put this on" his owner ordered.
Dean pulled them on not stupid enough to risk punishment of another beating for not doing something that he wanted as well. The jeans were tight, skin tight. The bruises from his last discipline rubbed against the fabric making him ache. So he was going to become her whore. Despite of all his training, of everything he had lived through, he hoped that something different would happen. The jeans were tight enough that he wondered if he could kneel in them.
Dawn mover towards the room she and Illyria had rented for this journey to the silly, sinister hell dimension. They were here on behalf of the counsel that needed to rebuild the libraries which had exploded with the old council building. So they started looking in the demon dimensions. Dawn had come shopping as she could read the ancient languages better then any of the other trusted members of the counsel, any language she tried to learn she had. Illyria had come as Dawn's bodyguard. For some odd reason Illyria treated Dawn like some sort of royalty. It made Dawn nervous. But it made Illyria the perfect bodyguard because nothing in its right mind would attack an old one. They reached the room and Dawn watched as Illyria chained the slave, had to keep thinking of him as the slave, to a ring in the wall twisting his arms behind him leaving him just enough room to curl on the floor.
"I will tell the minions to prepare food My Queen" Illyria said in the old language
"Thanks Illyria but you really don't have to call me that my queen I mean you can just call me Dawn." Dawn responded, "Are you sure he will be alright?"
"The slave will survive and if he doesn't I will buy you a new one My Queen," then she left the room to find dinner and Dawn was left wondering what to do with a slave she couldn’t risk talking to, least someone was watching and she didn’t know how to treat him.
Dean slammed into the wall. The woman with cruel ice blue eye was stronger than she looked, probably not human. She manhandled him into a different position and chained him to the wall. He snuck glances at them as they talked about what, he had no idea, he never hear that language before. But then the ice eyed woman left and his owner looked around the room. He swallowed dryly and tried to talk himself in to asking for water and soon for food. Despite all of it he didn't want to die. Maybe he could still run. Hide somewhere, get home. But another part of him was too afraid of the pain to do anything more than dream. In the beginning he tried to run the punishments, well torture really, still gave him nightmares. But he still wanted to live so he tried and maybe if he was going to be the whore she would like seduction. But in spite of her being alone he found himself simply asking, “Can I have water please mistress" the last words came with a bitter thought and that horrible feeling that every time he said them some part of himself died a little bit more. He braced himself for pain as she came towards him, but she only got water and offered it to him. Then he half thought she might drown him with the water but she merely let hem drink until he was done and mummer,
"Just don’t tell Illyria she wouldn’t approve."
Dawn was surprised that he had worked up the courage to talk to her, let alone ask for anything. So she went and fetched the water and held it for him. He flinched away from her like he expected her to hit him glancing at her warily. Dawn didn't know if she could keep this up only two more days to go, only two more days to go then Willow would port them home. But he looked so worried that she found herself whispering to him,
"Just don’t tell Illyria she wouldn’t approve." there was nothing more she could say.
Dean leaned against the wall and wondered what she meant by her remark. Why would the other woman Illyria care if he got to drink water? Maybe she just didn’t think his owner should get him anything. The weight of the chain on his neck made it hurt and he rubbed his neck carefully to keep from making any unwanted noise, the last thing he needed was he owner’s attention focused on him in anger. He watched as she flopped on the bed and picked up a book looking for all the world like a collage kid and wondered what she did to get here and if she was even human. People just didn’t walk around in a demon land without being scary all on their own.
Dawn dropped onto the bed and squeaked as she sat on a book. She picked it up and found herself lost in the pages. If growing up on the hell mouth had taught her nothing else it was how to research under any condition, so Dawn read and tried to pretend the slave wasn’t here until Illyria came back with the food and she ate caching the slaves eyes flitting hungrily to her food. Dawn’s nervousness made her flee to the bathroom. She did not want the deal with the slave on the floor so she hid like she had when she was young and let some one else deal with it. Illyria could feed the slave and then she wouldn't have to think about it. She took some of the books with her for an excuse to hide longer. She just didn't think she could deal with treating someone like a thing even for a few more days.
Dean spent the night under a blanket they threw at him cold cramped and aching form the position they left him in for the night he woke early in the morning. Illyria was still up and he wondered if she even slept at all. Last night Illyria had untied his hands and let him eat scraps from the floor two months ago he had learned not to complain about how he got fed. Food was food. Even off the floor and when it made his face burn with shame as he ate it.
Dawn awoke comfortable warm and rested. It took a while for her to remember where she was then yesterday came rushing back to her. What had she been thinking buying a slave from a demon in the middle of this dimension? She had felt bad seeing a human in the line of slaves so she bought him. But she shouldn’t have, she had no idea if he had ever lived anywhere besides a demon dimension or if he had a name. She could ask but that would make him more real and Dawn didn’t know if she could keep up the cover of acting indifferent to his comfort and humanity if he had a name. So she just walked by him still chained on the floor and wondered how she would survive the next day and a half. Dawn slipped out the door with Illyria squelching the feelings of guilt for leaving the slave chained in the room. At least he got a bathroom brake and Illyria left a bowl of water for him. She was so not going to think about it any more. They moved across the city again and settled into shopping for books.
Dean spent the morning happily alone but by afternoon he was sick of the floor and the four feet the chain attached to his collar let him walk. The bowl of water he had carefully rationed during the day but the bathroom still called to him and frankly he was board. He had counted the rings on the chain the boards on the floor and the planks on the ceiling and wondered for countless hours what in the hell his owner had bought him for; he was starting to doubt his original assumption that it was for sex. She would have used him by now, wouldn’t she? All that left was work or something that none of her people wanted to do or something she didn’t want them to do. Maybe he was going to be a sacrificed or someone’s dinner. Before his life had turned into doing anything he was told the mere idea of willingly agreeing to obey someone who owned him would have made him fight, now he caught himself trying to decide if it would be better to fight if something tried to eat him or just let it happen and to it all.
Dawn returned to the room rather happy with the shopping venture. She'd gotten a stack of book on obscure magic and demons that the new council would love, plus she had the most wonderful lunch. It was the perfect combination of little picked fish and some paste made of something sweet and nutty. She dropped her bundle on the bed and then she saw him the slave and all the thoughts of guilt she had pushed away came rushing back, her good mood vanished. He was kneeling on the floor where they had left him with an empty water bowl and an expression that fled to worry as she stared at him. Then he dropped his eyes to the floor. And Dawn summers had no idea what to do.
Dean jerked out of his mind numbing zone as his owner entered the room; alone he slipped to his knees as she entered the room. She looked happy with her books and packages. If he weren’t on the floor kneeling with no choice in the matter it might have reminded him of the girls by home just doing normal things, but then he thought of the chains and the need for the bathroom. He watched her expression changed from happy to angry. He lowered his eyes and froze wondering what he could possibly have done to upset her. He suddenly decided fuck it. “I need to use the bathroom,” he jerked his head towards the door the chain rattled softly. She leaned down said a word in a language he never heard before and the chain fell loose. He moved awkwardly to the bathroom whence done he stared at his face in a broken mirror. He wasn’t even the same person any more. He should run, it was just the two of them in the rooms. The door burst open and Illyria grabbed his arm dragging him to the wall again where the chain waited.
“Just leave him Illyria I…he needs a bath.”
“As you wish my Queen” she shoved him back to the small bathroom and he bathed mechanically, his owner was scary lady’s queen. What did that mean did she have a kingdom somewhere? His hand shook slightly as he shaved.
Dawn placed a new stack of clothes by the leash one more night and this could all end, one more night until Willow got them home. She carefully put a couple little packets of crackers on top of them. Even a slave owner would feed the slave, right? The slave came out of the bathroom and she watched as Illyria chained him again then watched as he ate the crackers. Dawn fell asleep reading a book, that night she dreamed of home on the hell mouth.
Dean woke to a foot in the ribs, his owner's foot.
“Get up go put those on.”
“Yes mistress,” he ground out. The scary lady Illyria unhooked the chain, then looked at him and he stood, began stripping out of the jeans and slipping into loser jeans and a gray t-shirt. No underwear or shoes were included. Life wasn't fair. He was so thirsty and the packets of crackers weren’t enough for dinner. Were they trying to starve him? He looked wishfully at the remains last night’s dinner. Then the scary lady re-chained him and left the room. He folded the jeans, even if they were too tight he didn’t know when if ever he’d get a new pair. Most owners didn’t put much money into a slave’s appearance unless he was for entertainment purposes. The hands folding the jeans shook at memories that his mind brought up. At lest now he was scarred enough that owners wouldn’t find him attractive all of the time.
Dawn admitted if only to herself she wanted to watch him dress. He was way cuter with the bruises fading, did he need any medical treatment? What if he got some sort of un-fixable problem because she hadn't taken him anywhere or fed him? He should drink more water she would be thirsty. Illyria left to pick up their last package of books without another word after the slave started dressing. Dawn watched his hands shake as he folded the clothes and couldn't do it any longer she couldn't pretend not to care what his name was or what he thought about anything. "What’s your name?" she asked not caring if anyone was listening or watching.
“I’m Dawn” she replied and sat on the floor next to him. In a rather awkward attempt to break the silence she blurted out “we’re leaving today going home”.
Dean stiffened as his owner joined him on the floor. Answered her inquiry into his name and waited to see what she wanted. Her nearness just increased his nervousness. Six mouths ago he would have insisted she untie him or flirted with her and waited for Sam. Oh God Sam. Wasn’t going to think about Sam or the Demon. Dean forced the memory of Sam, his eyes black sending him to the slave pits. He almost missed his owners next comment
Why did he need to know that? So he could tell someone who he belonged to.
“We’re leaving today going home”. She said it rushed like she was nervous. When he didn’t reply she sighed, stood up and said, “I’m going to get breakfast if Illyria gets back before I do tell her where I went K?”
Dawn knew that leaving the room without Illyria was asking for something bad to happen but she couldn’t stand it anymore. So she got breakfast and put off returning to the room as long as possible. But you couldn’t hide forever and she had to go back, face Illyria’s anger at Dawn leaving by herself and Dean’s frightened quietness. Dawn didn’t like the quiet. She liked people and noise, quiet made her think of waiting in the hospitals, at a grave, for bad news. She should be more worried about fights but they just made her think of home. Growing up on a hell mouth with a slayer as a sister gave you a weird perspective on violence. She put on her resolved face and went back because she was a Summers and they never gave up and ran away.
Dean's owner, Dawn had come back with food after Illyria returned. Dean had a minute when he was giving the scary eyed woman the message when he didn’t think he’d live though it. Her eyes stayed ice blue and they argued in the language he didn’t understand before ordering him to eat and pack. Food, water and simply being unchained had improved his mood, but he still didn’t know what they were going to do with him. He was starting to think that his owner didn’t know what she was going to do with him either. That was a strange thought.
Dawn and Illyria had argued about Dawn wandering off by herself. Dawn pointed out that she was hungry and that should be a good enough reason to wander off for breakfast and realty leaving him alone wasn’t a problem and she grow up on a hell mouth and faced the First Evil she could buy her own breakfast. Illyria's armor started to appear and then her head cocked to the side and she said
“Our slave should get breakfast for you” and Dawn remembered she had an audience.
Dawn unchained him, handed him food and while still angry at the old one told him to pack. Sometimes running around with an old one who felt you needed a royal court had its disadvantages.
Dean helped pack stacks of books and thought wishfully of days when packing meant going wherever he wanted. The hike though the city and into the country side took hours and made him remember every bruise on his body and made his feet hurt. They bought him sandals on the way out of the city then they walked for miles. To his shock his owner helped carry the bundles. Even the scary lady carried some of the books. Finally they stopped and his Owner poked her finger with a pin and let a single drop of blood fall he saw her lips move as she chanted something and a greenish light started eating a hole in reality.
Dawn let a drop of blood fall activating the portal home finally. Willow floated on the other side of the portal. Most of the time doing magic made her hair white and it would hover in the magic breeze but opening portal to hell made them black inky Darth Willow at her highest, so they tried not to do it. Always a chance that she’d go evil. Xander was there too watching Willow and looking worried. Kennedy stood nearby, weapon in hand. Outspoken stubborn person that she was she had stayed with Willow through rebuilding the council and the ups and downs of the LA mess. She learned to live with the darkness Willow never could get rid. Even if Dawn didn’t like Kennedy she could respect her. The black retreated and Dawn breathed in relief a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Then they were dumping books on the table and Kennedy was taking Willow to bed and Illyria was off to do whatever she did when she wasn’t around and the too hard to think of thoughts Dawn avoided those three long days flooded her.
Xander watched Dawn come through the portal and he relaxed for the first time in a week. Every time Dawn and Illyria went off shopping the chances of them ending up dead or worse increased. For a moment he was too busy making sure Willow went off to bed to notice the man standing behind Illyria. Then he was moving books with Dawn and Illyria wandered off. He got his first real look at the man when he dropped to his knees at Dawns feet. “Dawnie want to make with the explainin?” Anya might have been into some kinky stuff but Buffy’s little sister didn’t need some guy following her around in chains.
“Illyria and I bought Dean at the market.” Dawn sounded miserable that stopped Xander’s internal and soon to be verbal rant.
“Its OK just go relax I’ll take care of it” he told her. The man in chains on the floor hadn’t moved and Dawn left the room. “Come on you can bunk with me tonight” he said and touched the man’s arm he flinched. “Come on”
Dean stepped threw the porthole balancing his packages of books. Then he saw the witch on the other side he recoiled behind Illyria praying that she wouldn’t see him. Black eyes and her hair were black with veins of inky darkness running along her cheeks. She was worse then Sam when the demon had appeared and he really didn’t want her to notice him. Please, let his owner give him to anyone but her. He was even willing to serve Illyria the most she’d ever done is thrown him into a wall and threaten him when Dawn went out alone. Dean watch with great relief as the witch left the room. He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t even see the others left the room a hand on his arm made him flinch
“Yes master” he responded automatically to the man and stood up.
“You don’t need to call me that just call me Xander” his new owner or not, Dean wasn’t certain probably just someone who worked for his owner Dawn.
Xander was disturbed by the man’s response. He escorted him towards his room normally he would put him in a guest room but he wasn’t sure what the guy would do. Most people didn’t cringe and call him master after all. He definitely didn’t want to know what had happened to him before Dawn bought him. In the morning he would figure out what to do with the guy. Take him to Giles, get the collar off of him and explain things to him.
Dean woke to a body sliding against his. He froze as the woman murmured into his ear.
“Hay sugar, want some fun? Come shower with me.”
“Faith that’s not me” came a voice from the other bed.
“Yeah kinda just figured that out with the whole two eyes thing. Well what do you think want’a get some and get gone?” the woman moved against him running one finger down his cheek and Dean started his mental talk you’ll have sex with her if she wants or with them both if that’s what they want and you’ll pretend to enjoy it.
“Faith leave him alone just ... God you smell, what happened?” Xander said. The woman got up and moved to Xander.
“Didn’t know you started playing with the kinky shit Xander. Guy in your bed in a collar… it makes a girl think.”
“Shower Faith, really you smell. What did you do, wander though a sewer?” Xander moved away asking about her night while Dean lay shaking on the bed.
Xander “Faith, not that I don’t like these late night visits but seriously leave Dean alone.”
“Oh lover boys got a name.”
“Dawn bought him from a slaver in some demon dimension,” Faith stopped moving
“Yeah he called me master and he's terrified of Willow. I don’t know why though.”
“So slaying makes you hungry and horny which did you want to take care of first?” Xander kissed her again and Faith slammed the door shut.
“Well you know while we're here we might as well take care of the first” they moved together towards the shower in the darkened bathroom and all thoughts of Dean and the little problems faded into non existences as Faith touched him. Maybe they weren’t the best couple, but the sex was good.
Dean lay still thinking about the encounter. She had thought he was Xander but only for a minute, then she had started playing with him. With both of them out of the room Dean relived all the flirting. After Faith had realized that he wasn’t Xander the flirting turned into a game not anything serious. Then Faith and Xander had left together without a backward glance at him. Clearly nether of them expected him to play a roll in whatever they had planned. Maybe life would go differently here, maybe he would be more than the lowest of the low, fit only to serve someone else’s desires. He allowed himself to hope but then he mashed down that thought, the Queen Dawn wouldn’t have an evil witch if she was a kind person. Whatever was happening here and now had no barring on the way his Owner would treat him. Xander might be kind and Faith might just be a tease but no one who controlled the kind of power Dawn held got that way by being merciful.
Xander returned to the room with wet hair and a silly smile on his face.
“Hey you’re up, want to get some breakfast?” Xander ask his guest as he reached for clothing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean pick up the clothes he wore yesterday. “Here you can wear something of mine, its clean.” He offered thrusting a hand full of items at Dean including a brightly colored Hawaiian print shirt.
“Thank you, sir” Dean mumbled and Xander bit back a remark at that and made a mental note to get this guy some counseling. As soon as they figured out how to get the collar off of him, he didn’t even want to think about explaining the situation to someone out side the council. Faith and he had run into Andrew on their way out of the bathroom and the gossip mill started so at least Dean shouldn’t have any problems on the trip to breakfast. After that they’d go see Giles to get rid of the collar it was creeping him out.
Dean followed Xander to breakfast where they ate with half a dozen other people, none of whom Dean observed were slaves. Then they wandered seemingly aimless fashion though the complex looking for someone that Xander hadn’t told him who. There’d been a few teasing remarks directed to Xander over breakfast about trying to get other people to dress with his bad taste but that was all. No one demanded anything of him or gave him a list of tasks to begin or seemed to expect him to do anything. It appeared that simply by walking with Xander he was accepted by everyone. Dean's thought swirled around his head with conflicting thoughts. He felt himself bump into someone and balked in fear as it was his owner Dawn who was laden down with yet more books and followed by Illyria. He started to drop to his knees and say the words begging for forgiveness and accepting any punishment that she might want to give. How could he be so stupid as to not watch where he was going? And ruin what was one of the more comfortable and peaceful mornings of the last few months.
“Don’t” Dawn said pulling him back up “Look I’m sorry for the way I treated you I… talk to Giles, Ok? Hmm... I'll see you later” and they hurried on their way leavening Dean puzzled.
She no longer acted like the cold, impersonal woman who bought him. In fact she was more like the glimpse of the collage girl he had seen when she sat beside him.
Xander could not find Giles in any of the normal places he tended to be. Not in the library, or the training rooms, or his study. Eventually he found him in the meeting room near a table that was covered with books on slavery and spells for binding. Giles was in full Giles mode; rubbing his glasses surrounded with his books and sending off for more. Andrew was helping with the research. Out of the corner of his eye Xander saw Dawn enter the room with a new stack of books.
“Giles this is Dean, Dean Giles he’s going to take the collar off of you.” Or try to anyway they didn’t know if it would work yet but Xander wasn’t going to mention that.
Dean faced the English man and felt nothing. The words flowed past him
“Take the collar off”
He should be excited, even happy, but not blank and dead inside. Giles raised his hands and chanted some works in Latin and the collar fell off. Six mouths of horrible memories all tied up in that collar and it lay on the table in fount of him. Dean stared at it as reality set in and the thought hit him, he wasn’t a slave anymore. Three days ago he thought the only choices he had in life were obey his owner or die. Now he realized however odd these people were they also were willing to give him freedom and that thought terrified him. He was vaguely aware of Xander and others leaving the room.
Giles gestured at a chair, “Please have a seat, Dean was it?” The collar lay between them and Giles wondered if this broken man could recuperate. Some people healed and others never did, some people never broke at all. This man seemed broken or maybe he simply learned to hide any hint of defiance. “Do you know where you are?”
“No m... sir.” Sir was better than master but Dean still was staring at the collar with a sick expression on his face.
“You’re at the Cleveland hell mouth in the Watchers Council's North American headquarters,” Giles continued. “We keep the hell mouth from opening. Dawn brought you back from a different dimension you’re free,” Giles said softly and watched the man hunch over sobbing dryly
Dean was having troubles focusing on the world around him, most of the words didn’t really sink in. He responded with a “No sir,” to a question but he knew the word his treacherous tongue had started to form was master. Through his tumbling thoughts he caught the words hell mouth, Cleveland, Dawn, dimension.
“You’re free,” stabbed through his thoughts and all the things he should have been feeling flooded him. He bent over, crying for his brother, himself and all the horrors he would never be able to forget. Dean pulled himself together piece by piece
“What happens now?” he asked.
“Andrew finds you a spare room to stay in while we figure that out.” His voice was odd Dean realized it was somewhere between sympathy and wariness Giles didn’t trust him. Phone calls were made and he found himself in a different room and someone who looked like a reject for a cheer leader bounced in to get his sizes and then went off to, in her words, 'Fix the atrocity that Xander rote on his wardrobe.' He should call Ellen let her knew he was alive and Sam was evil, but he couldn’t face picking up the phone. Ellen needed to know but saying the words would make them real Sam would be evil and he… Dean push that thought away he wasn’t ready to face the fact that if Dawn, who was no longer his owner, hadn’t had bought him he would still be in that hopeless hell.
Giles didn’t try to comfort the man, he had seen people breakdown before and truthfully the simple fact that Dean still felt enough to cry relived him. He still had emotions, he wasn’t completely broken, and maybe he’d recover. Later Giles would find out who he was, where he came from and how he ended up here. But for now it was enough to send him to a room and let one of the slayers go clothes shopping for him. As much he wanted to believe that Dean was who and what he appeared, he had seen to much betrayal to believe in first appearances. He wasn’t a hero, he didn’t have the luxury of believing in happy endings. And people lied.