Chapter Twenty-One: Out Of Body – Part Three: Retribution
Disclaimer: I don't own characters from Buffy or Harry Potter. It's as simple as that. It's fun to play around with them, though.
Spoilers: Harry Potter through the end of Deathly Hallows, but set before the epilogue; Buffy starting near the end of the Season 4 episode 'The Harsh Light Of Day'
Feedback: Yes, please. Anything you can tell me will be appreciated, even if I'm too introverted to always respond.
Author's Note: Another chapter bites the dust. Not a whole lot of stuff to stay, things are flowing and I'm in a good place. Thank you for the feedback I've been getting, it's helped me tremendously. On with the show.
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His eyes flew open. Even with severe head trauma he'd be able to tell that was not his voice. He caught a glimpse of his surroundings. He was in a dimly lit room that looked like it hadn't been used in many years. The lighting meant it was at least mid-day. The décor suggested an abandoned warehouse. Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous it was not.
There were three other men with him, dressed in all black. He started to open his mouth and ask what was happening when a rush of movement preceded a boot jamming against his throat.
"Keep your mouth shut, bitch," was demanded by a decidedly British accent. He felt the blood rushing to his head and the struggle for oxygen beginning. The boot remained firmly below his chin, preventing his esophagus from drawing in much needed air. He tried to cough, but even that gesture was denied him, "Where you're going, no amount of talk will save you."
After one of the other men cleared their throats the man backed off, removing his foot from it's place in his throat and the coughing he had been attempting overwhelmed him. He drew in heaving breaths, and tried to ignore the sense of surreality as he noticed how different his breathing sounded. He dared to open his eyes again, but kept his mouth firmly shut. Breathing in through his nose would have to sustain him for the time being.
He looked down momentarily and saw two big clues to the fact that he wasn't quite himself at the moment. He resisted the urge to utter the first thought that came to his mind, 'Huh... so that's what breasts look like from here.'
When he looked back up, he saw the boot happy man leering at him. If he took one thing away from this whole experience, it would be that leering was a bad, bad thing. He promised he'd never leer at a woman again... at least not a woman he'd never met before. Leering was officially off his list of appropriate behavior with strangers.
The man who had discouraged the choking smacked the first on the arm, "Quit it, she's strictly off limits."
"Come on, she's going to die anyway... do they really care about what kind of shape she arrives in?" He whined.
"I don't suppose I have any say in the matter?" Xander stupidly put forth. He knew he was about to enjoy another boot assault, but it couldn't be helped. He saw the hair-triggered Brit climb to his feet, but the third man stopped his partner this time.
The man spoke to him with an air or reasonablity, "You know our orders. They want this controlled in the absolute strictest sense. You've already done too much with your boot-whipping. Any more and the Council won't even pay us for this retrieval."
"The Council?" Xander asked in confusion. The more he spoke, the more familiar the voice became. He really should have gotten it already, but the acoustics of the human skull have their way of distorting things beyond recognition.
The hothead responded in a remarkably cooler tone, "You don't really think they were just going to let you walk, did you?" He laughed hollowly, "You can't turn into a rogue agent and expect them to look the other way."
Xander was confused, "Who in the hell do you think I am?"
The two men exchanged a look, "Give it up, Faith. The Council has already decided your fate. They can't have a renegade Slayer on the loose, and you've all but proven you're beyond rehabilitation. You will die so that a new, more reliable Slayer can be born."
Xander's, or more accurately Faith's, eyes bugged out, "You think I'm Faith?" He looked down suddenly. Okay, so there might have been a resemblance, because those were definitely familiar now. He then remembered what he'd heard right before being attacked the night before. That was definitely Faith's voice, now that he had time to reflect.
He looked at the men sheepishly, "Would you believe... that I'm really a guy trapped in Faith's body?" He saw their doubtful looks, "I didn't think so. I am so screwed."
That evening, Faith-in-Xander was enjoying the experience. She'd been able to ditch the goodie-goods after convincing them she was well enough to go off and work. The truth was, she was better than fine. Whatever magic had transferred her consciousness into Xander's body, had also apparently drawn the Slayer essence with it. The wound on her head, though still bandaged, had healed hours ago. She just had to remember to play it up if anyone got curious.
She hadn't bothered to actually go to Xander's workplace. That wouldn't be any fun at all! She had, of course, explored his body at the first opportunity. It certainly was interesting driving stick from this perspective.
After she'd gotten done with that, she cruised the bars looking for someone to hook up with. She'd already flirted with half a dozen girls and guys since going off on her own. She had half a mind to bring another guy with her to really stick it to Xander, but she figured she could live it up a bit and experience sex from the other side for once in her life. There was no telling how long this body switch might last, might as well get the most out of it.
The smoky blonde standing with her back to her was tickling her senses. There was something unusual about her, but even her Slayer senses couldn't seem to figure it out. No matter, if the girl was anything above human she'd do away with her in time. She didn't seem to find any appeal in the kill if it was just a regular girl, for some odd reason.
"Hey, hot stuff, you looking for someone to steer you around the curves?" Faith opened up with.
The girl turned so smoothly you'd almost assume she was on a turntable. She met Faith's eyes, and seemed to take a quick breath in through her nose. There was the faintest flash of yellow in her eyes, which a normal person might not have caught. There was definitely a slaying in the cards tonight. Too bad her release would be coming before it... oh well, she'd just have to find another person to work it off with.
The girl flashed her a predatory smile, "Honey, you're getting in over your head."
Faith just grinned back, "Maybe, if you're lucky." The girl gestured for her to follow and led her towards the back of the Bronze. Out in the alleyway, where the creature thought it had the advantage, it would be quick and dirty. Just the way she liked it.
Before Faith even had a chance to initiate any contact, the girl slammed the door closed and shoved her hard enough to send her to the ground. She threw some heavy objects against the door and turned back to Faith's prone form.
The feral grin was replaced with a snarl of rage, and her eyes had gone completely yellow, "You really think I'm stupid enough to fall for this? You stink of them, I could smell it the moment you set foot in the bar. You think I wouldn't recognize you?"
Faith did her best to lull the bitch into a false sense of security, "Listen, I don't know what you're talking about..." For once, she wasn't completely lying in an attempt to distract someone.
"Save it. I'd tell you to go back to the unworthy and the Slayer so you could tell them Oz is mine, forever and always. We will be bonded and there is nothing they can do to stop it!" The grin returned, "Unfortunately, I can't allow you to live long enough for that to happen. I hope you've made peace with yourself..." She then transformed from harmless looking girl into hell-in-a-furcoat werewolf.
Faith's eyes momentarily bulged, "Oh shit..." She had little time to elaborate, as the wolf lunged at her. She allowed her Slayer instincts to tell her the right time to strike. She planted her feet in the beast's midsection and rolled through to kick her off down the alleyway. The creature quickly sprung back to it's feet.
Faith retreated to the nearest pile of debris and pulled up the first thing she got her hands on. She threw the object up between herself and the beast and heard the sound of metal shredding in front of her. She looked to see the blazing red and white design of a stop sign staring back at her, with a wolf's paw slicing halfway through it.
She shoved back against the creature, sending it backwards. She flipped the sign around so the wording was facing the werewolf and swung it hard into the beast's next lunge. A metallic gonging rang out in the alley, and the wolf was left disoriented on the ground.
Faith threw the sign backwards without a glance and spared the downed wolf a smirk, "Y'know, you really should observe all posted signs, bitch." She bent down to finish the werewolf off when it sprang into action and kicked her legs out from under her. She immediately rolled to the side to avoid the flurry of razor sharp claws bearing down on her.
She got to her feet in time for the wolf to barrel into her, smashing them both through a stack of palettes leaning against the outer wall of the bar. The only thing that saved her from a close quarters shredding was the shard of wood which lodged itself into the wolf's shoulder. The pained howl reverberated off the windows for blocks.
The creature fell back to try and get the offending object out of it's arm, allowing Faith to escape further assault. She took a quick survey of her surroundings and formed a plan in the blink of an eye, "Hey, Werebitch, the only way Oz would want to bond with you is if he was struck deaf, blind, and dumb."
The shewolf roared and charged in a blind rage. Faith waited until the last possible moment before jumping up and over the incoming wolf, grabbing onto the ladder of a nearby fire escape, pulling herself out of the way of it's lunge. The result was Veruca driving herself face-first into a pile of shattered palette debris. The kicker, however, was the sheared pipe which lay beneath. It drove itself straight through the werewolf's chest, probably catching the heart on it's way through.
The poor beast whimpered as the blood poured from the wound. Faith watched as the bestial exterior began melting back into the form of a broken woman. Her eyes were staring out at Faith with something akin to a plea for help, and Faith felt a moment of regret. Flashes of the Deputy Mayor staring at her with a gaping hole in his own chest washed over her, and she needed to steady herself against the Bronze's wall.
Finally, the girl stopped her motions, her chest stopped it's rhythm. Faith prepared to bail, not desiring an encounter with anyone to witness her next to a dead body. Before she turned away, she saw something catch light around her neck. She cautiously reached down and grabbed hold of the object, pulling it's chain taut before snapping it completely.
She opened her palm to see what looked like dog tags looking up at her. The name definitely didn't match the gender of the body laying before her, piquing her curiosity. Something inside her warred with her disinterest in the real workings of the so-called 'Scooby Gang' that fueled her desire to see them broken.
She knew the others were desperately looking for Oz, and part of her could care less about his fate. But another, quieter part told her it shouldn't be so simple as letting him die because she didn't care. Oz had always been fairly cool to her... why did he deserve to die?
She swore again and swung the chain around her hand. What was getting into her, going back into Camp Buffy-Worship in order to save the one person out of many that hadn't given her a hard time? She turned tail and ran when the back door to the bar started rumbling against it's blockage.
Nigel was this close to killing the girl without caring about the consequences the Council would bring down on him, "Will you please just shut up!"
Xander wasn't deterred, "I'm just trying to explain to you what's going on here... even if I don't really know what's going on here. I'm not Faith! I'm a guy! This isn't my body!" Nigel started reaching for the holster under his left armpit, causing Xander to shout, "Fine! I'll shut up. Stupid head." This sparked another odd glance between the two Brits.
Xander was well and royally screwed. He was tied up in some dark and dank 'wants to be an evil lair when it grows up' sty, shackled at the wrists and ankles, being delivered to a potentially evil, undeniably obnoxious group of overbearing British asses. Oh yeah, and he was stuck in the body of a girl who tried to strangle him before. Where was a dictionary when you needed one? He wanted to look up 'screwed' in it so he could at least see a picture of what he used to look like right next to it.
He wanted to growl. If Hermione was here, she'd have him out of the shackles in no time. If Hermione was here, he wouldn't even be in the shackles. He needed to figure a way out of this, or she might just resurrect him long enough to kill him again. He wasn't quite sure if it was possible, but even that might not stop her.
He was wandless and that pretty much eliminated any chance he had of using magic to escape. Even if he had his wand, he wasn't in the right body to use it anyway. All he'd have is a reason for the two Englishmen to think he was completely insane... not that it would matter to them anyway.
If only he could use Faith's Slayer strength to bust the shackles apart. He didn't really feel any more powerful than he had in his own body, but there was definitely a hint of something he wasn't familiar with. Besides, breaking out was unlikely as his captors knew who they were detaining and would make sure they used the 'bust-proof' shackles. The word bust suddenly made him look downwards again. He was having serious concentration issues now that he had boobs.
If only he'd somehow brought his magic along with him during the body transfer... he wouldn't have a wand, but he'd been able to do the occasional wandless spell when he really concentrated. It took a lot out of him, but it usually was enough.
He suddenly remembered a conversation he'd had with Hermione during the trip to Los Angeles to deliver her back to the Wizarding World. He'd had many questions about how things worked, and never seemed to run out of them. One question in particular was about how a person comes to be a wizard or witch. Was the magic something that started small and developed as you grew, or was it something you drew in when you came of age?
Hermione's response had been that while magic did have ties to your physical body, it was much more an expression of your soul. While your body acted as a conduit, the magical core existed in a place you could always draw from, no matter what form you took. It was why animagi were even able to transform back into their human forms.
He crossed his fingers behind his back and hoped she was right. Who was he kidding? It was Hermione. Of course she was right.
He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of only one thing. Shackles unlock. Okay, so he was actually trying to mentally recreate the motions and incantation he'd usually need for the spell to work. Alohamora. Alohamora. Alohamora. He just hoped it wouldn't drain him too much if it even worked.
He felt the familiar warmth sweep through him and thanked his lucky stars that Hermione was as right as he always was. He heard the click of his shackles opening and immediately brought his hands around in front of him. His euphoria over the revelation was quickly dampened as the fatigue hit him.
Unfortunately, his captors also heard the sound of his shackles releasing and only hesitated a moment in their shock before springing into action. The rougher one, who'd planted a boot in his throat, was first to respond.
Instinctively, Xander planted one foot on the attackers while hooking the other behind his thigh. The result was using the man's own momentum to drop him face-first to the floor, knocking him out. The other pulled out what appeared to be a taser and made a more cautious approach. As he reached out with the device, Xander kicked out at the hand, knocking it away.
While the man clutched his arm from the blow, Xander drove his near foot into a place no man should ever strike another man. The cry of pain was cut off as Xander drove his other foot into the man's chest, sending him backwards into the wall, resulting in a loud crash.
Xander observed his handiwork with surprise. He'd dispatched two well-trained hunters with very little trouble. He'd almost felt like he could see them moving in slow motion, with a voice in his ear telling him where to strike and when. He suddenly had a feeling that the 'extra something' he'd felt earlier may just have been a taste of the Slayer spirit left over in Faith's body. He really had to share a 'holy crap this is awesome' moment with Buffy when this was all over. Assuming he survived, of course.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Xander heard yelled from the hallway. The door to the room began to open, and once again Xander acted on instinct. He lunged forward and drove his shoulder into the door as it swung. The man was halfway through by the time he reached it, and he was pleased to hear a collision and the sound of the wind being knocked out of whoever was opening it. However, he was bounced backward and off his feet, landing unceremoniously on his ass. He nearly gave in to his exhaustion then, but felt his adrenaline start to kick in.
He got back up to his feet in time to see his last obstacle. The man he'd sandwiched was climbing back to his hands and knees, albeit slowly, and he did not look happy. Thankfully, his positioning was such that all it took was a quick kick to the door to send it colliding with the man's extended head, knocking him cold. You really should be more careful about where you get up.
He looked back at his unconscious captors. He quickly checked all of their pockets and was rewarded to find a ring full of keys, as well as an assortment of very unfriendly looking weapons. At the very least he could disarm and strand the guys who had intended to sell him off to the Council.
He waited only a moment after making his haul before beginning to explore the building. He didn't have to go far, as right around the corner was an overlook onto the main floor of the building. From there he could see a large delivery truck parked on the ground floor. The stairway leading down took him back past the room he was being held in.
He gave the Brits one last sorry look, "Sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to take your truck. I say it's a fair trade; you kidnap me, I steal your wheels. You don't expect me to run all the way back home, do you?"
He down to the vehicle and started it up. The doors in front of him were closed, but he had no clue how to get them open. So, he decided to open them the old-fashioned way. He hit the gas and plowed straight through them onto the street outside. He picked a direction and went; really, really hoping they hadn't managed to get him out of Sunnydale while he was unconscious.