Chapter Twenty-six: I Wanna Hurt You (Just to Hear You Screaming My Name)
"I find it very easy to be philosophical about personal discomfort. As long as it's somebody else's personal discomfort, of course." ― Walter Slovotsky
A doorway and shift or two later, Hyena Thing rippled, blurred, and shifted, changing into a form that looked like a cross between the Xander she knew and Lon Chaney as the Wolfman. With the Wolfman makeup designed by Wes Craven, 'natch. But it was an improvement over having a pony sized dog thing trotting alongside.
He was wearing what Xander used to call his 'Teenage Hoodlum Rebel Without a Clue' outfit, and then he'd half smile oddly and change the subject. Dark jeans, white t-shirt, Harley boots, and the black leather motorcycle jacket that always hung in the back of his closet and seldom came out. And when it did... Buffy would shiver a bit and look away.
Cordelia understood that now. Completely.
At least now he could talk. And after a bit, he shifted more and went to an Elvis looking Xander, gelled duck-tail, smirk, and mutton chops. And green eyes.
Ok. That's two, she thought, looking at Soldier Boy Xander and Hyena Xander walking side by side, talking amiably in low tones.
'And we know the real Xander is in here somewhere, if Buffy's account can be trusted,' said Still Quiet voice. 'And, wow, is Hyena Boy a bit intense or what?'
Shrug. Buffy's account can be trusted. I can feel it. And: oh, hell yeah. Intense as an Espresso high colonic.
'Heh. Faith damn near creamed when he went all Elvis Xander. Almost as bad as she did over Audie Murphy Xan.'
She so did not. And, eww.
The three of them went on, Cordelia, Faith, and the two Xander fragments, through the endless days and scenes of Xander's screwed up life. Their screwed up lives together – Cordelia was seeing all over again just how entwined she and Xander's lives were with each others, all through the years and even when they weren't together. As much as, and maybe in some ways, even more so than he and Willow...
The four of them: Ghani was an integral part of the team here.
Chris and Daryl Eps and their little Build-a-girlfriend project, and Xander frantically attempting to untie Cordelia from the gurney before giving up on it and pushing her out screaming through the rising flames... walking through freaking fire for her. She'd never realized before that that was the point after which he'd started carrying that little lock blade all the time, and the catalyst for it.
Crestwood college and the demon worshiping frat boys. The snake demon. Jesse's loss and death in the tunnels, and the horrific realization that he'd been turned. That nightmarish scene at the Bronze on the night of the Harvest, that Cordelia had blocked out for so long. Standing watch over Buffy at the hospital during the superflu, and the confrontation with Angelus. Ampata the mummy girl, and the horror of her unmasking and death in front of Xander's horrified gaze...
The Order of Teraka and Buffy's basement, and that kiss.
Faith took on a peculiar smile upon seeing that, and Cordelia wanted to strangle her for it.
"Okay," Faith said, drawing a sidelong look from Cordelia. "I'm kinda lost here. Where's Dawn through all of this?"
"Oh." Cordelia shook her head. Not exactly the question she'd expected. Opening her mouth to answer, she hesitated, and then gave a mental shrug.
Faith, assuming she was really here and not some dream figment, had been drawn into all of this for a reason, damn it. No point in having a resource, and not using it, nor in crippling it with a lack of information.
She could always blast the killer Slayer into little Faithy bits later, if needed.
"It's complicated," Cordelia began, and got a look from Faith that had 'duh!' stamped all over it. "Can't believe that Angel didn't fill you in."
"Let's pretend he didn't," Faith said, "On account of it's not pretending, and move on."
"Right." Cordelia nodded, and tossed her head, flipping hair away from her eyes. "Xander had to explain a lot of this, when he and I were getting caught up on all the stuff I'd missed. And I'd caught some of it when Willow showed up at the hotel to tell us about Buffy's death... and at the memorial, later."
Cordelia explained as best as she understood the situation, only going into as much detail as needed.
Faith shook her head, looking disgusted. "Man. That's all kinds of screwed up. So basically, these monk guys made Dawnie out of some sort of mystical energy, and then shoved her into everyone's heads?"
"Yeah," Cordelia said, nodding. "In a nutshell. So Buffy would protect her from that Glory bitch."
"Huh. Nothing against Dawn, 'cause I always liked her," Faith said, scowling, "But I don't really like people screwing with my head and my memories."
"Yeah. It's kind of like rape," Cordelia said, nodding, "Only without all of the messed up sex parts and the violence."
"Word."
Onward and inward. Ethan Rayne's little Halloween surprise, that had brought Soldier Boy into being. The love spell, running for their lives from Xander's crazed female admirers, and the other confrontation with Angelus and the mad Drusilla. Buffy's attempted seduction of Xander, and Xander turning her down... The swim team and Cordelia's impassioned 'little bath toys' speech to what she had thought was fish boy Xander. Kendra's death, and Xander throwing himself between Cordelia and two vampires with a broken arm...
The Lie, as Xander had called it, complete with capital 'L'.
Now that Faith had called attention to it, Cordelia could almost see a ghostly afterimage running alongside of the mindscape they were wandering. Life with Dawn, shadowing life without...
More pieces of her husband's messed up psyche. No: more than just Xander's – even without Tara's admonitions, Cordelia knew enough about mind magic to know that that couldn't be good for any of them. And it really explained a lot about the mess that the Scooby's had become after Graduation. But she had no clue what might be done about it, if anything.
"I think I've figured some of this out," Faith said. Cordelia looked over and raised an eyebrow. "We're getting the highlights of stuff that had, like, a shaping impact on Xan. And on you. Mostly traumatic, like him having to stake that Jesse kid."
"Gee, that's a news flash," Cordelia said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
"Hold up, Cordy," Faith said, holding up a hand. "Wasn't done." She frowned, a small 'v' forming between her eyebrows. "I think Xan – the real Xan – is paralleling our trip, just kinda, whatchacallit... outta synch with us."
"Oh?" Cordelia thought about that for a minute, then nodded reluctantly. "Makes sense," she said. "So we need to synch up."
"Uh huh," Faith said. "Where I was headed. If or when we're done with the Xander version of the It's a Wonderful Life tour." She scowled, and added, "But I'm not sure about the two Xanders thing B mentioned."
"Think we got a handle on that," Hyena Xander said, reaching down to scritch Ghani between the ears and getting a doggy grin and a full body tail-wag. Jeeze, her freaking dog even loved the Xander fragments.
"Do tell," Faith said.
"Way back we had a Dreamways encounter and chat with an embodiment of our subconscious," Soldier Xander said. "Call him Alter-ego Xan. Id Xand for short, maybe."
"You don't talk much like a soldier," Faith remarked, "Or like I'd picture, anyway."
"Psy-ops classes," Soldier Xan said, shrugging. "You wouldn't believe how many psyche courses Rangers get. Plus Escape and Evasion and Interrogation resistance training."
"I don't like Id Xan," Cordelia said, frowning. "Sounds too much like 'Idiot Xander', and only I get to call him that."
"Other, then. Or Alex. Or... " Soldier Xander spread his hands, "Whatever makes you happy."
"None of this makes me happy," Cordelia grumbled. Faith shot her a sympathetic look, and nodded.
Ghani led them through a gap in a hedge, and they stood in a cave and watched as Xander was tossed to one side by a hideous blue skinned demon woman, while trying to help Buffy and Faith. And got put down for his efforts.
"I don't recognize this," Cordelia said, frowning.
"I do," Faith said, quietly. When Cordelia looked at her, she shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Coming up on Night of the Jhe Demons."
"Ah."
Ghani led them along, and they reached a point where a furiously battling Faith, one arm hanging limply by her side, was getting her ass handed to her by a Jhe Demon woman. And then there was a roar of a big engine, and that blue '57 Chevy of Xander's uncle came blasting in, tires squealing, and smashed the Jhe bitch to one side all broken and rolling. Damaged Faith jumped in over the passenger door.
Shift again, Ghani leading them through the hole in the fence smashed by Faith's losing battle, and they were outside the Downtowner Motel, then in.
Eww. Cordelia had never seen this place before. Well, she had, but not seen it in connection with Faith, or thought about it that way. And eww again. Nasty, nabby, desolate place. And they'd left her here, a Slayer... or at least, Giles and Buffy had.
Cordelia did her best to ignore the parody of lovemaking going on in the bed, Faith watching avidly with an... odd expression.
And it was over, and they were laying there, and Xander was stroking Faith's arm and looking at her with such... tenderness that Cordelia wanted to scream. And then outside again and watching as a sheet clad Faith shoved a boxers clad Xander out the door holding a bundle of clothing in his hands.
Cordelia turned on her heel and stalked away, her face frozen. The others followed silently, even Hyena Xander all quiet and looking stone faced.
A number of paces away from the motel, Cordelia whirled on Faith, her eyes snapping sparks and the other girl stepped back hastily.
"I don't get this," she said, in a very quiet, very controlled and deadly voice. "I really, really don't. You're going to have to explain it to me, Faith."
She took a deep breath, fighting for control, and won the battle. Just barely.
"You had a guy that would have risked his life for you – did risk his life for you. Twice." Cordelia's voice was still soft and very dangerous sounding, even to her own ears. "And you got something precious, and you threw it away and made some... " she paused, hunting for words, and finally said, "Cheap locker room joke out of it.
"And all it would have taken was a word, a touch, even a hint of feeling," she said, "And he'd have been yours for life. I don't get it. Tell me why, damn you."
The last few words came out in a strangled hiss, and Faith flinched from every single one.
"I can't, dammit," she said, finally, looking miserable and everywhere except at Cordelia.
Cordelia stepped forward and grabbed her by the arm and yanked her around until their eyes met and locked. "Don't give me that," she said. "I really want a good answer here. Because if I don't get one, I may have to burn you down where you stand."
"I don't have one!" Faith yelled, yanking her arm out of Cordelia's grasp, and whirling to stalk away. She turned back, pushing her hair back and away from her face with both hands. "Don't you think I've thought about it? While I've had nothing the hell else to do in that cage?"
"No. I really don't think you've given it that much thought at all."
"Well, I have," Faith snarled, stalking back to to glare eye to eye with Cordelia. "And all I can come up with is that he scared me."
"He scared you?" Cordelia's voice rose to a strangled shout, her eyes widening. Ghani whined and crouched by her legs. "You threw him out naked on the street and later almost strangled him slowly because he scared you?"
"Hell yes," Faith yelled back. "I know what the hell you guys thought about me back then. But I really didn't sleep with as many guys as you thought. Or as I made out. And Xander looked at me and he was promising for-fucking-ever in those damned brown eyes, and I freaked!"
Cordelia blinked, and Faith leaned in, nose to nose with her. "Yeah, me," Faith said, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. "Big bad Slayer. Psycho Slayer. Slayer slut. I wasn't fucking girlfriend material. I just wanted a quick roll for fun and games and I kinda liked Xander. And he saved my ass earlier that night, so hey – hero's reward, right?"
Faith stepped back abruptly, growling low in her throat. Cordelia blinked, then said, just as quietly whispering, "So he scared you, big deal."
"Yeah, it fucking was, Cordy," Faith said. "You don't get it. I was hanging on by my teeth and fucking toenails to anything, any scrap of what sanity I could find and I could feel myself sliding down the fucking edge. I wanted a roll in the sack to take the edge off, and instead I got forever shoved in my face, from a kind of a nice guy I just couldn't fucking believe in. Twice – and the second time he threw me a lifeline I couldn't believe in."
"So you fucked him and tried to kill him."
"Yeah. Didn't start out that way," Faith said, suddenly sounding tired. "At first, I just wanted to scare him – see how serious he was. And... it all went out of control."
"Story of your life, huh?" Somehow, that didn't come out as sarcastic sounding as Cordelia had wanted it to. It came out kind of quiet and thoughtful, pieces suddenly clicking and falling into place, and she hated it.
"Oh, fuck yeah," Faith said, and let out a strangled laugh that sounded just this side of hysteria. "I watched my Watcher tortured, raped, and murdered slowly right in front of me, and got away and ran here with a bad-ass killer vamp on my tail for help. And I got Buffy and Giles instead. And Wesley fucking Pryce. All downhill from there. You want to talk about fucked up? I was sixteen, Cordy." She laughed again, and said, "Got away, hell. Kakistos let me go – so he could chase my ass."
"I never knew," Cordelia said. "And it's not an excuse."
"Hell fucking no, it's not an excuse. But it sure as hell is a reason." Faith slumped, shoving her hands in her back pockets and looked at her. "And why the hell are you so mad? You threw him the fuck away first."
"Because that's my fucking husband you threw away and nearly killed, you fucking dumb-ass murderous cunt!" Cordelia screamed at her, her hands curled into fists at her side, and a slow, white glow staring to build around her body.
"Oh."
And Faith looked so... so blankly dumbfounded by that, that it let all the steam out of her all of a sudden and left her just exhausted. And aching.
"Yeah. Oh. Married the idiot, finally. And my idiot husband is in here somewhere, and if we don't get him back and put him back together, that damned thing out there is going to break in past Wizard Xan and kill him and all of us." Cordelia slumped too, all of a sudden. "And I don't want to let that happen, because Xander wouldn't let that happen to me. Didn't let that happen to me."
"We'll get him back, Cordy," Faith said, quietly.
"Sure."
"We will. I owe him. And I always pay my debts."
"Yeah." Cordelia took Ghani's leash in her hand and turned on her heel and walked away, too tired and hurt and frustrated to talk about it anymore.
Ah. There was something majorly seminal in his life that year, Xander thought as they watched the final battle against ADAM, the killer demon cyborg from Hell. But it was something that you probably couldn't find in any single episodic event, so he didn't really blame Ghani for not leading them there.
Some things, you just gotta figure out for yourself.
It was that sense of alienation that hit him and stuck all of that year. Hit all of them – how they grew so far apart, and let go of all the things that made them click and work through all the years before. Even when they were pissed at each other, and even when they hated each other, they'd always stuck together before. It was a kind of strength.
'The fragmentation started with Cordy, if you think about it,' Still Small said.
Huh. The thought was startling in how startling it wasn't, Xander thought. How do you figure?
'Think about it,' Still Small repeated. 'You and Cordy crashed and burned, badly. Willow pulled way back away to get Oz back, and you and her have never been as close again since. Buffy started pulling back and away from both of you then, also. It started with the argument at Dead Man's Party, and then with the confrontation over Angel when all of you ganged up on her... but it really accelerated after that. And then... '
We had the big blowup around the time of the Jhe Demons, and briefly, Buffy went all 'Let's make Xander fray adjacent' – something she'd never done before or after.
'Right. And then Cordy left. And so did Angel, and Wes, and even Faith in a manner of speaking,' Still Small said. 'And then Spike joined up. And it all started to fall apart.'
And hey, Spike was the catalyst for the whole thing at the factory with the re-bar, too. We can blame it all on him.
'Too easy, pal,' Still Small said. 'Spike didn't make you go kissy face with Will before and after Homecoming, and fall on her tonsils and try to mine them with your tongue. The Bleached Blunder was just a catalyst, as you said.'
We still shoulda staked his peroxided ass.
'No arguments. But I think Cordy pulling away and then leaving did you guys in, odd as it sounds. She was a part of the glue holding everyone together.'
And that's really the seminal event of that whole year, the lack of Cordy, Xander decided. We never were the Core Four, as Willow had called them once. We were always the Core Five, even when Cordy was the outsider snarking in. Another realization hit him with the impact of a heavy caliber slug: Anya, the substitute Cordy... Snarky, inappropriate, sarcastic, caustic, tactless Anya. Oh God, I am so very sorry, Ahn. I blew us up before we ever started.
Watching the enjoining spell, him and Buffy and Willow and Giles and Tara all blending together to form something greater than the whole, he recalled again the sudden sense of completeness he'd felt during the spell. Mind, body, magic, and heart. And what kind of a stupid superpower is heart, anyway? And it hit him, then, just what it was that Tara had added to the mix. Never mind that she hadn't been physically present...
Tara was the spirit and the calm and the grounding center and the joy and the intent that bound them all together.
Clickety click. You gotta have five to make a pentacle. Not four. Five to make the big magic together.
Mind, body, heart, spirit, and will.
Anya's offhand and admiring comment about how Tara had a lot more steel in her than Anya had seen before clicked into place.
Clickety clack. And that's why Tara was the voice of the Primitive in the nightmares that followed. Tara through her link to them through Willow and their joined magic.
Because Tara anchored the whole thing, and only she could provide the voice to that fierce, restless, prowling spirit.
They passed through the exit from the Initiative and Ghani led them into 1630 Revello drive, and they watched all the nightmares and the angry, stalking, frustrated woman thing covered in white clay and red ocher with her bone knife, and –
– Clakety Click.
Alex and Xander turned to face each other, and said almost in unison: "It's the Primitive."
The prowling dark and pale thing at the edges of the vision, never quite seen clearly, always there. Xander hadn't even consciously registered it, but he'd seen her there all along, all through his journey here.
The Stalker in the Night.
The weird cacophony of the Eldritch thing came again, and the world shuddered and faded, then blinked back in.
And this time, there was an answering howl of challenge and rage.
The voice came from all around them, then, Tara's voice, "I have no speech. No name. I live in the action of death, the blood cry, the penetrating wound."
He was still linked to the first fucking Slayer.
Clickety –
Fade to black.
Boiler room at the high school, night, and a weirdly calm Xander Harris faced a scowling, nervous and fidgety Jack O'Toole across a stack of fuel oil barrels with a backpack device sitting on it. A device with wires and a timer...
"I really don't remember this," Cordelia said.
"Me neither," Faith said. "Shh. I wanna hear this."
Xander was holding a bowie knife in his hand, easily, still from where he'd twisted it away from Jack during their earlier fight. There was a peculiar, gentle, half smile on his face, and an eerie calm to those brown eyes that Cordelia had only seldom seen before.
It clicked for her suddenly. She'd seen it just before Xander came unglued on Tor and Kyle way back when, when they'd hurt Willow, and he'd put them in the hospital. Uh oh.
And she'd seen the same calm half smile and that look in the eyes earlier in this dream walk when they'd watched Xander face down Angelus at the hospital, the night Buffy had been so sick with the super-flu. Another thing he'd never told her.
Cordelia suddenly wondered if she'd ever really known her husband at all. She'd bet real money that Buffy and Willow never had.
Her eyes flicked to the knife, then to the one that Soldier Xan had on his belt, and suddenly remembered seeing it in her Xander's slaying tool kit. Soldier Xan saw the eye flicker, smiled, and nodded.
Jack glanced quickly over at the exit sign above the door. Xander's half smile broadened a bit, and he said, "I know what you're thinkin'. Can I get by him? Get up the stairs, out of the building, with seconds ticking away? Gotta say... I don't love your chances."
"Then you'll die, too."
Xander raised his eyebrows, and the quiet smile went all the way up to the eyes. "Yeah, looks like. So I guess the question really is... who has less fear?"
Jack met Xander's gaze evenly, but Cordelia could see a shiftiness to the eyes, betraying his inner lack of calm. "I'm not afraid to die. I'm already dead," he said, his voice full of bravado.
Bravado, not bravery. Cordelia had seen both often enough to know the difference, Hell, she'd seen both often enough on her idiot Doofus to be able to tell...
And, 'already dead'? Oh, really? Jack O'Toole had been a zombie or something? Not a vamp, 'cause he'd been out in daylight, but... Oh, yeah. Explained so much...
"Yeah, but this is different. Being blowed up isn't walking around and drinking with your buddies dead. It's little bits being swept up by a janitor dead, and I don't think you're ready for that."
Jack did his best to stare him down. "Are you?"
A part of Cordelia deep inside silently screamed "No– you idiot!"
Xander's eyes flickered to the bomb, back up, and the smile thinned. "I like the quiet," he said.
Cordelia damned near had a heart attack, recalling how the Dweeb had said those exact same words on their way to L.A. after departing Vegas... with nearly the same damned smile.
Jack reached in suddenly after an endless pause and yanked out a wire. The timer stopped.
Flicker. They watched as Xander left, and Jack was eaten by Wolf Oz. Eww. Oddly full, indeed.
"Holy fuck," Faith breathed out, barely above a whisper. "He saved my ass again that night. And I never knew."
Cordelia didn't even bother to say it. She just looked at Faith and lifted her eyebrows. Faith flushed, slowly from the neck up, and nodded.
'Nuff said.
After a moment, Cordelia said, almost as quietly, "I saw them hauling the barrels out of the basement the next morning, and wondered... "
"Xander never said dick all, huh?"
"Nope. Not a word. But he was oddly... unaffected by my insults later that day," Cordelia said, frowning. That same damned smile then, too. "Later when I found out about you two, I wrote it off to that, but now... "
.
A steady passage of scenes now, from one to the next, doorway after doorway, Ghani leading the way with an amiable surety.
Ending at the Downtowner again, and Cordelia suddenly knew what they were about to see.
Faith must have too, for she snarled suddenly under her breath and stepped forward and snap kicked the door open, lunging inside...
Cordelia took a deep breath and stepped through after, to see –
– an empty motel room.
An empty motel room with a rumpled bed and some peripheral damage.
Faith whirled around in a circle, eyes narrowed, then they widened. She scowled and shoved her hair back from her face with both hands and went "Arrrg!" Deep shuddering breath, and she said, "Damn. I thought for sure... "
Soldier Xander pointed to the girl shaped indentation in the Sheetrock and studs. Faith turned and noticed it, apparently for the first time.
"Looks like we're a bit late," Cordelia said. She raised an eyebrow and looked at Faith. "Rushing in to the rescue?"
'Well, yeah, guess so." She shrugged and stuck her hands in her back pockets. "Stupid, I know."
Cordelia's mouth quirked despite herself. "Well, not so much."
Hyena Boy was looking at the dent. "I don't remember that from before... "
"Wasn't," Faith said, frowning. "Fang came busting in and belted me with a baseball bat. No wall hitting that I recall."
"Huh." Cordelia thought, looked at Hyena and Soldier, got shrugs back. "I'm thinking we're on the right trail, Tonto. What do you want to bet my Doofus husband's been here already?"
"Well... " Faith said, shrugging. "Never did like sucker bets. Follow Lassie here, or go look? And where, if so?"
"Huh. Library or Angel's or Giles' place. Xander wouldn't take you – her – home."
Faith thought for a moment. "Giles."
And just about that time, Wesley and the Council of Watcher's goons showed up. Right on cue, practically.
And stuff broke all sideways. Of course. Just because.
After all, it takes a lot of time to make things go right, but they can all go to hell in a heartbeat and a hand-basket.
They screeched to a halt in a nondescript van, side door already open and the passenger and front doors slamming outwards, people jumping out everywhere.
And then there was a confused blur of motion; a sudden thunderclap of violence that spilled out over everything...
Wesley came barreling up with something in his hand, shouting something about "In the name of the Council of Watchers of Great Britain!" or some crap – like a secret society in England had jurisdiction of any kind on American soil and over an American citizen, please –
– and Cordelia kicked him smack dab in the nuts, and he folded like a hinge.
A couple of guys she didn't recognize threw a net over Faith and she stumbled back, cursing and struggling. Another one shot her with something that went Phut! – and Cordelia vaguely recognized a tranquilizer rifle like the one Giles kept under the Library counter. Faith sagged and went all woozy looking, swaying –
A rippling blur and a snarl and Hyena Xander went all Lon Chaney again, his eyes flashing green light. There was one of those guys from the L.A. offices in late '99, Winchester or Wembly or Weatherby or something – dangling from a one handed grip in Hyena's taloned right hand and it squeezed and there was a cracking sound and a handgun dropping from suddenly limp fingers. And the guy's head went to a definitely unhealthy looking angle...
Another gun coming up, seen from the corner of her eye. Soldier Xander didn't blink. Or hesitate. The right hand went down to that big single action and there was a sudden flat clap of sound; two more, and Smythe or Blythe or whatever his name was was stumbling backward, already going limp. One, twice, thrice. Gut, heart, head. There was a ripping sound and sudden smell of evacuation, and a sudden third eye where no eye should be –
And somehow, she had one hand wrapped in a fistful of Wesley's collar and tie knot, yanking down, and the other had her Smith & Wesson under his left eye, hammer back, and she snarled out, "Back the Hell up, Wes – "
Ballings, or Stallings – no: Collins, that was it, the third Council black ops goon, was pointing a handgun at the side of Cordelia's head. She could see it from the corner of her eye – could see it and there was no way in hell she could turn and shoot fast enough and...
... and Ghani lunged in and clamped those huge, leopard killing teeth on his wrist and put her entire body into shaking it apart. The gun went off, a bullet spanging off the pavement and screaming out somewhere into the Sunnydale night. And she let go, a blonde blur of flying hair and teeth and then there was blood spraying everywhere. Ghani's teeth were clamped shut in Collins' throat and he was down and bleeding out, with low rippling snarls coming from deep in the Afghan's chest.
Wesley, his eyes wide and blue and shocked, stumbled back a step as she shoved, all of the blood draining out of his face. He gasped out, and said, "Cordelia... ? My god!"
"Leave. Now," Cordelia bit out, staring at this ghost from her past. "Take these idiots and leave, Wes."
"I most certainly will not!" Wesley drew himself up, and stared huffily at her, embodying all of the pompous ass of high school Wesley in full his righteous glory. Such as it was... "What on earth do you think you're –"
A mental switch closed somewhere in the back of her mind. Flipped a coin and it came down on the side with, "I don't have fucking time for this shit" engraved on it.
She squeezed the trigger and shot him between the eyes.
Eyes. Wesley's eyes, wide and blue. Wesley's eyes, wide and blue and staring, already glassing over as he fell back – would fall back endlessly behind her eyelids, frozen in that moment for eternity.
She could have, would have, should have, had to have endless justifications for that single, brutal, momentary act.
It wasn't real. He was a dream. This would all go away and this Wesley would live, over and over again in Xander Harris' mind once she got him back and he woke up. Always there, frozen in time in an endless loop.
He should have, would have, could have known better. That when you set out to commit the irrevocable act of kidnapping a teenage girl on foreign soil, to haul her back to ye merry olde to stand for what up to this point was basically an accident and a brief act of spiraling madness temporarily cut short by an Act of Angel, well, then you just had to expect someone to get in the way. Someone might just up and stop you.
Someone like her.
We help the helpless, Wesley.
The Wesley of this time was a man who could commit such an act. And she wasn't the Cordelia of this time who was using him to make Xander Harris jealous and tormented. And the Wesley of this time kissed like a cold, dead fish.
Not like the kiss of a molten god.
And the Cordelia of any time was addicted to the kisses of molten gods. Always, endless, and forever. Never, ever and always.
Truth of the matter was, the man she loved, did love, would love, had always loved was in deathly trouble, and time was running out, and Wesley was in the way, and she needed Faith to go get him, and when it came to that choice, in those terms –
– An infinite number of Wesley Wyndam-Pryces of any time were infinitely expendable.
Human choices aren't integers. They add up as infinities.
Multiple choice. Fill in the correct oval. All of these, none of these. One of these things is not like the others.
All of this ran through her mind's eye in an instant as Wesley's wide, shocked, blue and already glazing ones fell, fell back, fell away. And rewound in an endless instant also, to replay again. And again.
"Sorry Wesley," Cordelia said, her voice gone infinitely soft. There was a flatulent sound, and an excremental smell hit her nose. "Wrong place, wrong time, wrong girl."
She looked down at the already cooling meat that used to be Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, her friend. "But I'm really not all that sorry."
A man she once married once said, 'Probably the most difficult choice real humans have to make is whether something is necessarily brutal or unnecessarily brutal. Be nice if there was a joke in that, but there you go.'
Of course, he probably stole that from some character in a novel. She knew her doofus.
She stepped over Wesley's body, and past the dead Collins, a bloody muzzled Ghani falling in to pace majestically at her side.
Damn, time's fun when you're having flies. A broken necked Weatherby still dangled from the clawed paw-hand of Lon Chaney Hyena Xander. He leaned slightly forward – Hyena Xan, not Weatherby – and growled, "No one hurts my girls. Dumbass," and threw the cooling meat to thump and slide down into a sitting position against the side of the van, head lolling and blank glassy eyes staring.
There was a blurring ripple, and three hundred fifty pounds of brown-black shaggy fur the size of a pony, banded back crest, fanged jaws, sloping back, white and black striped legs, and glowing green eyes dropped to four legs and fell in at her other side like a Tibetan Mastiff from hell.
Soldier Boy was just turning, rifle over one shoulder and the big single action coming up and around smoothly to point from the fallen Collins to the small cluster of Watchers. The big 1911 looking automatic from his shoulder holster was in his left hand, and the blue eyes were frozen and cold.
Faith had just recently had her legs give way from the tranquilizer, and she was sitting inside the net on the sidewalk by the open motel doorway, weaving slowly.
The three remaining Watcher stooges were still kneeling frozen around the downed Slayer, their mouths agape. One of them held a knife to Faith's throat, looking up at Cordelia and her escort with widening eyes.
Cordelia Chase-Harris swept hazel eyes across them that were as opaque and cold as the wind off a glacier, and settled on the one with the knife and met and locked with his watery blue ones behind the glasses.
"Scat," She said. "Or die a little. Pick one."
The one to the outside of the little tableau came erect and stood up to his full height, all five foot four or so of it, paunchy little stomach falling over his belt, and said, "Now see here, young woman. You cannot interfere with the Council of – "
– Some people are just too stupid to live. The Smith and Wesson came up and around and bucked in her hand with a flat, dull report and he staggered back, a hand going to clutch his ruined right shoulder. A Black Talon. What had Xander said? Oh, yeah: a bag of bone chips in bloodshot meat with an exit hole the size of a softball.
"Tick-tock," she said. "My Daddy used to say that the only thing you can do with a gun is admire it or shoot it."
She brought the Smith around with the muzzle aimed between the watery eyes of blue with glasses and knife.
"Let go the knife and scat," Cordelia told him. "Tick-tock." Next to her, Ghani peeled bloody lips away from bloodstained leopard killing teeth, lowered her head, and growled from deep in her chest.
He let go the knife so fast you'd think the handle had scalded him. And scrambled back on his heels away from Faith so fast that he tripped and landed on his butt and scrabbled backwards on the seat of his pants.
Cordelia smiled sweetly. "They just don't make many Watchers like Giles these days, huh?" She twitched the muzzle parking lot way. "Scat. Tick-tock."
"She won't ask again." Soldier Boy gestured to the van with his six-gun, and the hammer came back as it covered the other remaining Council guy. "Next time, comes it a loud noise." Good man. Didn't have to worry about him not following through.
Larry, Moe, and Shemp scrambled up and away, piling into the van like Keystone Cops, Larry helping the one in shock with the bag of bone chips for a shoulder. The van, engine still running all this time, all these infinite seconds, pulled away in a puff of blue smoke and a spray of gravel.
Soldier Xander de-cocked and slid the sixgun smoothly into the holster and bent to help Faith untangle herself from the net. Faith was still groggy but already starting to rally from that dose of tranquilizer. Wonderful stuff, that Slayer constitution.
Faith got to her feet with Soldier Boy's assistance, looked about at the bodies and blood and smell of shit all over, and her eyes widened. "Day-um." Then her eyes hardened and a razored smile slid across her lips and she met Cordelia's eyes and nodded, once.
Don't try this at home, kids. We're professionals.
There would be a car here, somewhere, keys in the –
– Cordelia looked around, expecting it to be there and willing it to be so, and there it was. Angel's 1967 yellow Pontiac GTO from 2002 sitting there. She frowned, changed the color to black to fit her mood, and walked over with the rest trailing along, got the keys from under the visor and slid in behind the wheel. The others piled in wherever as she started it up.
A girl could get to like this dreamscaping stuff. PFM: pure freaking magic.
'So much for not making any changes,' Still Quiet said, sounding as shocked and awed as dead Wesley had looked.
Oh, shut the fuck up.
.
Vampire hearing. Angel had already risen smoothly to his feet by the time she pushed open the unlocked door to Giles' apartment and swept in with bloody muzzled Ghani at her side. Flat. Condo. Screw it. Here in America, we call them condos, not flats. You had flats on a car.
His gaze swept over her and locked when they hit her Faith, his mouth falling open. Giles wasn't vampire fast, or as smooth, but he was still halfway up when he froze in place gaping at Older Faith.
Yeah. Her Faith. She paid for her in blood and pain and death, and by damn, she was gonna keep her.
Look what I found, honey. She followed me home.
'You get to clean her litter box,' Still Quiet said. 'I'll make sure her water and food dishes are full.'
Hyena Xander stood filling the doorway, his tongue lolling. She couldn't believe how big Angel's eyes got when he saw him. Or how far Giles' jaw dropped.
"Cordelia?"
"Hi Angel," she said, her tone of voice gone suddenly light and fey. "You seen Xander tonight?"
"Uh." His eyes flickered from her to Hyena Xan-thing to Soldier Boy to her Faith and back again. "Which one?"
"I think you just answered my question," Cordelia said, smiling at him. "Older one. Which way did he go?"
Giles cut across, finally reaching his full standing height and closing his jaw. He was cleaning his glasses furiously. "C-cordelia? Uh, what, may I ask, is going on?"
"You may ask," Cordelia said.
He blinked after a long moment, rolled his eyes and let out an exaggeratedly patient sigh. "What is going on here, Cordelia."
"A search and rescue, Giles," Faith said. She snapped her arm out straight, suddenly; her pointing index finger aimed at her current time counterpart. "You. Shut the fuck up."
Teenage Faith's mouth closed with a snap and she blinked.
"Keep it shut unless you got a real question," Faith said, "And listen to these two guys. And maybe Harris, if he comes back. Your Harris."
She glanced around, and then jerked her head to Angel. "Well," she said, "maybe not him. But Giles, definitely."
Angel jerked back as if slapped and Faith threw an apologetic grin his way. "Sorry, Big Guy. But. You're a great guy and I love you to death, but seriously?" She shook her head, still smiling, "Ain't no way that two hunnert and forty something years of murder, rape, torture, and wanton killing compares right to an accidental killing and an act of stupidity and panic, dude. You weren't getting through. You were just making things worse and, like, solidifying the whole 'hey, I'm evil' thing."
"Evil does take MasterCard," Angel said, smiling slightly. "And Visa."
Faith threw her head back and laughed. "Ok, maybe listen to him some. Angel's pretty cool even if his head is up his ass sometimes, and he's maybe the second best guy you know."
"Yeah? Who's the best?" Current time Faith must have figured it was a pertinent question, because she asked it seriously, even if there was a tinge of sarcasm.
"You were strangling him, dumb ass," Faith said. Current Faith's mouth shut with a snap again. "Your turn, C."
Sigh. "Ok, Giles," Cordelia said, "My idiot husband got himself lost in the Dreamways during a spell to help him reintegrate and we're looking to drag his lame ass back." She thought for a second, and added, "There's a dead Wesley and three dead Council black ops guys back at her motel where they showed up to grab her and haul her back to England. They found us and tried for my Faith. Bad for them." She saw her Faith's eyes light up at that, ignored it.
"Good lord," Giles' hand and cloth froze on the glasses and he stared at her. "You say Wesley is dead? What happened to him?"
"I shot him. She was gone and they found us instead. Bad move."
That dropped Current time Faith's jaw open again and froze the room.
"Good Lord, Cordelia," Giles said, shocked again. "Why would you do that?"
"He was in my way and I was in a hurry," Cordelia said, shocking him further. She saw the look in his eyes and the shock in his face, and said, desperately, "In case you didn't catch, Giles, we're so not from around here," Cordelia said, looking him in the eyes. "We're from outside. And I'm so not playing. My husband is out there. The man I love. And if I don't find him then this entire world – his whole world with all of you in it, dies. Your world ends. Getting between us at this point is death."
"Uh... who's your husband, Cordelia?" Angel, recovering faster than Giles. Well, he did have more experience with sudden death, duh. "And are you sure you had to shoot Wesley dead?" He was watching her the wary way that some people watch the big cats at the zoo – like they're not sure the bars will hold.
Good. She wasn't so sure about that, either.
"Not in order: yes. He was in my way and I was in a hurry," Cordelia said, "And, you know him as Older Xander. And you never did say where he went."
"Them," Angel said. "One in an old bomber jacket and one in a black denim jacket. With a big Afghan hound like yours, only less bloody."
'Yes!' Still Quiet jumped up and down pumping her fist.
And cool. Ghani was spirit guiding Xander too? Neat-o.
"And they didn't say where they were going," Angel finished. "Sorry, Cordy."
"S'all right." She grinned at him, and threw one to her Faith for good measure. "Now that I know Ghani is spirit guiding him, I know we'll hook up. Ghani would never let anything happen to any Xander."
"You seem rather certain of that, Cordelia," Giles said. "And I must say – this has been the most extraordinary night so far."
"There's bedrock certainties, Giles. You'll find just the right book, sunrise, Buffy stakes vampires unless she's sleeping with them, Xander being a well meaning idiot a lot of times, and the fact that since we were kids, Ghani loves Xander as much as she loves me. Any Xander."
"And, extraordinary, Giles?" Faith shook her head. "You ain't seen a tenth of it."
"Perhaps," Giles said, going over to the sideboard, "It would help if you could start from the beginning."
"Don't have time, Giles," Soldier Xander said. "We're on the clock in a big way. Tick-tock. And the seconds are running out."
Giles poured three glasses of scotch, three fingers each, then added a glass for Soldier Boy. He reached for the soda and raise an eyebrow, and added a generous splash when they all nodded. "Perhaps... it would help if you assume we've heard the basics. Your Xander explained some before he left. He and Alex."
Cordelia shrugged, and accepted her drink. "Ok. A bit. Dreamwalk. Vision quest, right? We're all in Xander's head right now. It's all a shadow of a dream, how's that go? Sound and fury signifying nothing?" She continued, elaborating as much as she thought they had time for. The spell, the eldritch horror, Wizard Xander, their increasingly desperate hunt... The drink helped, dammit. Giles had good scotch.
Giles was a good listener, and that helped also. So was Angel.
"Your Wesley will be up and at 'em again when my Xander is back together and up and remembering again," she finished.
Giles nodded, looking thoughtful. "It may help you to know that Buffy reported her encounter with you and, err," he gestured to the foyer where Hyena Xander was curled up in the entry way, snoozing. "Possession Xander." He smiled, "And with the two Xanders who saved her from him at the school."
"Yeah." Angel had a peculiar smile on his face. "And our Cordelia's been having encounters over the years with a pair of Xanders who keep popping up where they couldn't be, and the one in the bomber jacket keeps catching her off guard and kissing her senseless. Then disappearing."
Faith laughed out loud at that, tipping her glass in a salute. Current Faith surprised her – them, actually – by asking, "So. What can we do to help?"
At everyone's look of surprise, she rolled her eyes at Giles and said, "Slayer still, right?"
"I don't know..." Cordelia said, thoughtfully. She set her empty glass on a coaster. "If you see us again, don't get in our way. And if you see my Xander and Alex again... tell him..." she took a long breath, "Tell him his Cordelia is looking for him. With my Ghani. And that the clock is ticking." She smiled, added, "Tell his lamer ass to leave us a clue."
.
