Disclaimer :
Still not mine. Never will be.
Author's Note :
For those who mentioned it, the wedding was great. The weather started out gloomy but soon it began to shine – amusing for some as most people had dressed for rain :P
As promised here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy.
xXx
Chapter 7
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The building was almost empty, only three figures stood within. Two were older men, grizzled and learned; the last was a dark-haired young man who was currently pummelling a punching bag. If someone had entered just then and watched him, their first thoughts would have been filled with amusement at his excess of enthusiasm; yet if they had been able to see his eyes, they would have told a different story.
They said it all.
Pain. Anguish. Hatred. Rage.
The emotions so strong they were almost tangible on the air, a miasma of negativity that wrapped its icy tendrils round those near him. His jaw was locked, teeth clenched, as he continued to rain down blows on the bag, yet his eyes were unfocussed, his attention elsewhere – his need unassuaged.
The two other men watched him with a certain level of concern, as the level of physical violence that thrummed through his lithe frame rose another notch.
"We have to do something," The taller of the two spoke quietly, so the intense youth wouldn't hear, "or else he's going to burn himself out. Or worse, the next time he goes on patrol he's going to get himself turned. This can't go on."
His companion turned his own attention to his partner and nodded absently, still worried about the events of earlier. When Mac had seen Xander stagger in, with the look of someone fresh from a war-zone, he'd been afraid that something terrible had happened to one of his school friends. As Xander's words had tumbled out, he quickly realised he'd been right – just not in the way he'd thought.
Hearing that Xander had run into a vampire-Willow had deeply shocked Mac, and he'd felt a deep wrenching pity for his young protégé as, with the experience of age, Mac had quickly realised that Xander felt far deeper for the girl than even he knew. Understanding filled him as Xander described what happened after, of the time-lapses and blank spots, but had turned to a sick-horror when Xander reached the crux of the tale.
Dealing with the knowledge that the girl staked hadn't been the girl he loved, she had only been a copy from another universe.
The idea made Mac's brain hurt, but he could see what the revelation had cost Xander. Gone was the determined yet happy soul, ready with a quip or a jest, willing to sacrifice his own life to protect his friends. In its place was left a husk, an empty shell, one that moved and breathed and looked like Xander Harris, but had lost its spark.
The man hadn't even bothered to go to school today, he'd just shown up at the base and started to exercise. Glancing back at Tank, he could see the worry in his own eyes reflected back at him.
"I know, but what can we do? You know what he's going through, we all did at one time or another. It's just… he's so young he doesn't know how to handle it. If we stop the training you know damn fine well he'll just go out alone and without backup, but as he is he's too screwed up to pick up anything new."
"What about…"
Tank trailed off, but his raised eyebrows seemingly got the message across as a split second later Mac's forehead furrowed and he stepped closer as he dropped his voice.
"Are you fucking insane?" The words came out hissed, but the shock and anger were evident, "Based on our intel this meeting is too important to fuck up, and the way he is now… he's likely to kill the seller the moment they meet."
"Either way, it could help."
"Help?"
Tank smirked, though it held a distinct lack of humour.
"If Xander is able to handle the meeting without resorting to violence, then he's definitely on the mend. On the other hand, if he winds up killing the mark…"
He shrugged, ignoring his friend's disbelieving stare.
"As you're well aware, we know where he's been hiding out, and it would be simplicity to break in and search the place. The…" Tank stopped, noticing that a third person had joined them. Other than shooting Mac a hard glare, and receiving one in return, he said nothing more on the subject.
"So Xander, feel any better? It looked like you were having quite a workout." The tone was jocular, but his gaze was serious as he waited for an answer.
"Is something up?" His voice was gravely with disuse, the tone harsh. As ever, his eyes were dead, blank, and Mac couldn't help but shiver.
"Yeah," wanting greatly to look at Tank, Mac nonetheless ignored the impulse and stared Xander straight in the eye, "we've received word through some of our underworld contacts that there's a demon wanting to leave town, and has some merchandise to sell to ease the journey."
"So I'm to kill him, retrieve the stuff, something like that?"
That he could so matter-of-factly talk of killing, without even a change in inflection, made Mac pause to reconsider. But before he could rethink things, Tank butted in, "Not necessarily. He's asking for money, and we've got enough in our discretionary funds to cover it. If…"
He stopped at Xander's raised hand. "Discretionary funds?"
"Yeah, we have some money we put aside to help buy equipment and the like. Not everything we need can be lifted from the local armoury, sometimes we need more… esoteric items." Flicking a questioning glance at Xander, and seeing a nod of understanding, he got back to the point. "Anyway, if you can try to resolve it without murder. Just pay him, get the stuff and leave. That's all."
"Fine." The dissatisfaction clearly evident, Xander still signalled compliance. "So what am I after?"
"I think that, since he's the one that received the tip, Mac should explain this." Tank, having muddied the waters nicely, stepped back to let his friend take any remaining heat. And from the glare he received, Mac was well aware of his motives.
"As mentioned, we have a number of contacts in the underworld, various creatures and demons interested in making a quick buck, as such we've been getting hints of something big on the horizon. Something bad. Even so, we know very little, only that it has something to do with the Mayor, and it's called an 'Ascension'.
"According to the demon, he has in his possession a number of books describing this ritual in detail; so I hope you can understand the importance of this. There's also a good chance that word of this will have also filtered back to the Mayor, so we have to move fast. It's the other reason you shouldn't just kill him. I doubt you'll have enough time to search the place before his goons arrive – and no matter what training you've received, you won't be able to take a pack of vampires, let alone if there's a certain dark slayer."
He paused, to assess Xander's reaction to the restrictions. From the frown of concentration on the kid's face, he hoped the message had gotten through.
"So killing him would be of the bad, eh? Well that sucks. How about if I just beat him up a bit, would that be okay?" Xander sounded almost conversational as he spoke, but Mac wasn't fooled.
"…Why would you do that?"
"I don't know, he might piss me off. Or maybe I'll just feel like it." The dark smile as it was said was disturbing to behold, and Mac felt even more uneasy about this course of action – but the die was cast. The roll of bills was handed over and, with a brisk nod, Xander grabbed his things and headed for the showers to clean up before heading out. Alone at last, Mac rounded on his partner.
"What the fuck did you think you were doing? Sending him out now, like this? It's going to get him killed!"
"If it happens, it happens."
Mac gaped soundlessly, but Tank was barely begun.
"Mac, how are your kids, your wife? Or your sister? Or parents? Oh that's right, you haven't spoken to them in years, haven't seen them in even longer. Why is that? Why is it that I never speak to my family, that I have no friends other than you, that I'm pretty much alone. Do you remember?"
The question was obviously rhetorical, as he continued speaking, merely noting the dawning comprehension on his friend's face, "How many people have we met over the years that do what we do, fight what we fight. And how many of them… have families? Everyone like us, those who decide to fight demons and vampires, we all know what we're getting into, and what the dangers are. The very first thing we do is protect those we care about; we push them out of our lives, drive them away through lies and deception, make them hate us and forget us – knowing that as long as they're gone, they're safe from our enemies.
We isolate ourselves so that when we die, we don't take those we care about with us.
"Xander's never learned that lesson, until now. Keeping those he cares about around him might make him feel better when he's down, but when something bad happens to them, the pain is so much worse. It's a mistake we all make at one point or another, and it's something we all have to work through on our own. If he can't deal with this, if he can't handle the guilt and the rage, he's in the wrong line of work and… needs to stop."
Tank looked away from Mac, fixing his eyes on the wall so as to not see the emotion in his friend's gaze.
"I like him, but I'm not going to let myself get attached until I know he's worth it. He has the potential to be a great asset, but at the same time he could be a major threat to us. He's at the centre of things, with connections to some of the major players on our side, but could cause unbelievable damage if he slips up.
"So yes, sending him out like this might get him killed, might fuck everything up where he is concerned, but it needs doing. If being forced to stake a copy of a friend, a creature that shouldn't have even existed, something that doesn't even matter since the girl still lives; if that is enough to make him crack…"
He stopped, and shook his head slowly.
"Better we find out now, while we can still get rid of him. I know you care for him, that you consider him almost the son you never had… but if we let him in too far and then he breaks, the only option left would be to kill him ourselves."
With that, Tank turned and left, leaving Mac alone with his thoughts. He was in turmoil; on the one hand, he did like the kid, and care for him more than he should – on the other, Tank was right. If this was able to break him, he wasn't right for the job. Wandering over to a window, he couldn't help but notice the lithe form of one Xander Harris disappearing down the street.
He only prayed that whatever happened that night, anything Xander ran across would deserve the pain, suffering and death that would fall upon its head.
xXx
Though his strides were confident, and his posture alert, inside he was a mass of rage and self-loathing. Xander yearned for something to lunge out of the shadows, for something to attack so he could vent on them in the form of violence, the darkness that filled him. Speaking with Angel had helped him, in part with his feelings towards the ensouled vampire, and with his own actions. Yet there still remained a gaping hole in his heart.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw yet again Willow's beautiful face crumble to dust as he ended her existence.
He couldn't bear it. Being near her, at school or in the library, it was a living torture. So he avoided it, and her. For the first time, he found the estrangement forced upon him to be a blessing, not a curse.
Since no-one noticed when he wasn't around anymore, they continued to be ignorant of his pain. It was one of the few small comforts in his miserable existence.
Training helped somewhat. Being able to pound his flesh into solid immovable objects, feel the pain in his limbs from over-exertion, it distracted him. Punishment, of the body or mind, was what he craved, and the pain was a soothing balm against the emotional wound. But it didn't last.
So a task, any task, was a boon to him. Something to pull his mind away from the oozing wound, and back into the world.
Xander started slightly, as he suddenly realised that in his distracted musings he'd not been paying attention to his surroundings, and had arrived at the meet point. Somewhat disappointed that nothing had tried to snack on him, thus earning him some sweet release, he glanced around darkly for the seller.
Movement behind him had him whirling, but it was only a cat. Relaxing the tension that strummed through his muscles, he glided forward and began to examine the buildings nearby. Most were run down apartments, with only rats for tenants, but a few still had life residing within. A sudden thought struck him, and he moved towards the closest inhabited domicile, peering through the filthy window.
Instantly he smiled, for within the room stood a demon rifling through an old tome. He continued to watch even as the demon shut the book, then slid it into a hidden compartment in its wardrobe – in which he plainly saw a number of other books, all matching the first's appearance. Having seen enough, he moved silently to the door, then knocked. Hard.
His smile turned to a smirk as the sounds from within disappeared, before a quavering voice called out. "Wh.. who is it?"
Leaning up to the door, he spoke quietly but firmly. "I'm here for the books, and I have your money. Open the door. Now."
A moment later he heard the locks click, and the door opened a crack, letting a hesitant eye peer out. In no mood for games, Xander slammed his shoulder against the shoddy wood, propelling the smaller demon backwards and to the ground, and giving Xander access to the squalid little room. Glaring coldly at the cowering demon, he waited for the 'negotiations' to begin.
"Wh.. who're you? Did the slayer send you?"
"Slayer? No, not with that one. I'm Walker. I'm… new in town, and as I said, I'm here for the books." The expression on the demon's face twisted through a gamut of emotions. Fear, confusion, greed. It was all present, but the greed won out.
"The price is…"
"Irrelevant. I have this," He held up the cash roll and watched the demon's eyes light up, "and you're going to give me the books. Or you can try to haggle. I kind of hope you do, my bosses don't want me to hurt you unless you get… difficult." He leant forward, and felt a shock of pleasure as the demon flinched back, "I've been having a bad couple of days, and would really appreciate the chance to carve me some demon, so please, fuck with me, see what happens."
From the stain spreading on the crotch of the demon's trousers, the message had clearly sunk in. Yet the demon still had the nerve to try.
"Wh.. what makes you think you'll be able to even find them, if I say no? They could be anywhere. More money… might be required."
His smile was all teeth now, as his breathing deepened and he practically growled out, "You mean like in a secret compartment? In a wardrobe, for instance?"
The fear rapidly made a reappearance.
"I suggest you take the money, and we make this trade." Cowering and urine-stained, the demon shakily scurried away, and a moment later Xander found himself weighed down with a bag filled with a set of five musty, old books. Turning to leave, he paused on the threshold, "Incidentally, I feel I should add something. If these books turn out to be duds, useless, I am personally going to hunt you down. A slayer would just kill you, what I'll do is far worse."
"L..l..look, the d..deal is good. The books are everything I said they'd be. That's why I'm leaving. The Mayor wants me dead. Without the money, I'm fucked. Please!"
The demon's incessant whining was starting to grate on his nerves, but Xander was appeased. He doubted that someone, anyone, as terrified as this one was would have the capacity to lie so convincingly, so knew it to be true – at least as far as the demon knew.
Trying to ignore the twisting desire in his gut to end the pitiful existence before him, he spun on the spot and strode from the room, leaving its occupant shaking in relief at his leaving, and trying to regain control of its limbs.
Moving through the darkness, letting it wrap itself around him, he was distantly aware that to any watchers his gait, his very bearing was screaming 'predator', but he was more occupied with other things.
With the task complete and the objective in hand, he found his thoughts spiralling back into the darkness that seemed to be consuming him. So lost in thought was he, that he never even noticed the brunette slayer walk across the street and enter the building he'd just left.
Even if he'd known that shortly afterwards the demon would be lying on the floor of its apartment in a pool of its own blood, he probably wouldn't have stopped.
Xander Harris was in a very dark place.
xXx
End of Chapter 7
xXx
Author's Note :
My, my, that was dark wasn't it?
This was not actually my first try at writing this chapter. The first draft I thought I was pretty happy with, but after getting a few more chapters roughly written, when I came back to it I was appalled by the lack of continuity, and knew something needed to be done.
This wouldn't have been a problem, if it hadn't been Wednesday night – two days before posting!
I really hope this worked, and it's continuing to keep you entertained.
Next week…
Well, more will happen. 'Nuff said.
Cya Friday.
Punster-Zero
