"Willow?" he spoke softly though the darkened hallway of her apartment building. The lights everywhere had been broken save for one of the neon whose socket dangled with the cold wind rushing from the open window down the hall. Xander slowly stalked toward Willow's door, glass cracking under his feet. The door creaked as he pushed it open, and Xander raised the tire iron in his right hand, preparing himself for the worst. Darkness greeted him and the light switch he flicked repeatedly seemed to indicate the lights had been knocked out as well. He took a deep breath and stepped into the room, cursing himself silently for not bringing a flashlight. He immediately turned left and pressed his back against the wall, unwilling to make it easy for whatever it was that had possessed Willow to sneak behind him.
Just forty minutes ago, Tara had burst into the Magic Box stuttering and panicked. Giles and Xander had managed to calm her down long enough to get what had happened to Willow out of her. Unfortunately, Buffy was out on patrol with Spike, and Xander, against Giles better judgment, had decided to rush over to Willow's place armed with what he could find in his car, which also included a pair of handcuffs he kept in his glove compartment for Anya's occasional spontaneous car sex. The idea was simple, knock Willow over that big brain of hers, tie her up and bring her back to the Magic Box, while Giles got cracking on finding what exactly could have happened, and Tara went to look for Spike and Buffy.
A brief spark of lightning lit the empty room for a stroboscopic second, revealing a blue-gray flash of scattered furniture turned over and the intricate patterns of chalk on the floor. Xander sensed himself tensing up as the thunder rolled in, he scanned the room furtively, feeling he was that dumb character in all those horror movies who just has to go check out that sound in the basement.
"Hey, nobody ever accused me of being smart," said Xander to himself, trying to muster up some courage as he listened to the heavy rain beating against the windowpane and the buzzing neon clacking against the wall of the hallway. Suddenly, a distant scream sent Xander jumping up in the air, someone's dying moans.
He moved through the hallway with less care this time, hoping that the scream didn't indeed belong to Willow. What he found on the way were the open doors of every apartment, behind which always lied a carnage of indescribable gruesomeness: hollow grannies were nailed to walls, their inside pulled out through their stomach, pairs of children nailed sitting before the television set, the boy's head on the girl's body and vice versa, parents eviscerated and dismembered, and dogs roasting in the ovens. Xander hurled, unable to keep the overwhelming terror and disgust in check. Somewhere along the always more creatively disposed bodies, he noticed the signature etched on all the victims, a strange checkered square he made sure to take note of for Giles.
He finally made it to the end of the narrow hallway, pushing the last oak door open. His heart felt as if it was going to explode or at least pop out of his chest. "Breath Xander, breath" he kept repeating to himself, trying not to forget as he choked up on fear. The door swung slowly, as if a transition on a movie screen, a curtain sliding slowly to the left, revealing a form he instantly recognized as Willow kneeling in the middle of the room, her back to him. A checkered square of light projected from some window outside of Xander's vision surrounded her and revealed with great details the body of a young girl at her feet, a bloody knife in Willow's right hand, the girl's head in the other. Thunder and lighting, Xander swallowing hard as he took a silent step into the room, his sweaty hand sliding on the raised tire iron.
"Hello, Xander," suddenly said Willow without turning around. He stopped short, the sound of his heart beating in his chest was deafening.
"Hey, Wills," he said weakly after a moment, he barely managed to speak. "Watcha doin' there budster." He tried to sound his average warm self, failing miserably as he took another tentative step forward. Lighting again, illuminating the girl's features, her dead eyes staring straight at Xander.
"I was hungry, and you know how I like my meat fresh," she said wickedly as she turned around smiling, her face, blue-gray from the light of the windows, smeared with fresh blood, gore dripping from her mouth, and her eyes dark orbs of nothingness. Xander was taken aback, his instinct screaming for him to flee while his stomach demanded to have it's content evacuated once more. He closed his eyes as she chuckled, rising to her feet. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, his courage returning a little with the concern he felt for his friend.
"Wills," he said decisively, "You're not well and… you're coming with me to see Giles. Now put down the knife before somebody gets hurt… most probably me."
Willow said nothing advancing simply toward him in an almost unthreatening manner with a grin on her face. Suddenly she dropped the girl's head, which promptly rolled away into the darkness and with a snap of her fingers, the tire iron slipped from Xander's grip and flew into hers, after which she quickly discarded it. He started to back away panicked, his hands raised in front of him defensively, when the door slammed behind him, blocking his exit. Soon his back was to it and the terror overcame him. He slumped to the ground in an almost fetal position as Willow bent over him. She put the knife at his quivering throat holding it there for effect as he backed his head against the door, swallowing hard. She looked at him sitting there, examining him close as if sniffing for something.
"Well, aren't you going to give me the 'Wills, I know you're still in there somewhere'?"
"Actually… I was just about to. So?" he waited for a second then swallowed hard and looked away. "Didn't think so."
"Oh don't worry Xander, you're precious Willow is still here. She sees and hears everything, feels every moment of this. I can hear her screaming for me to stop right now. I don't know what I'm enjoying better, these people's pain as I'm torturing them or hers as she's forced to experience it."
"You're sick, even for a demon, you're sick."
"How about you Xander?" she asked deviously as she forced a kiss on his lips. He tried to turn his face away, but she quickly restrained him, and though he didn't return it he felt her tongue forcing it's way inside, spreading the taste of the little girl's blood. "How sick are you?"
"Screw you!" Xander responded after he spat out as much of the blood as he could. Her smile disappeared, as she stood tall once more. She chuckled sounding disgusted.
"Willow is right Xander, you really are pathetic. That child over there put up more of a fight than you. You really are useless Xander, the weak link of your little Scooby gang. I'd kill you but I'd be doing you and your friends a favor. You're not a threat to me, you're the Zeppo, isn't that how your precious Cordy put it?" Willow waved her hand and with that simple gesture he slid rapidly all along the wall crashing through a mirrored closet. The door opened and Xander watched helplessly as she disappeared into the hallway.
Burn.
Xander Harris remembered that word so well. He remembered the first time Asmodeus had spoken it, a one-word explanation to a question he hadn't asked at the time. "You're going to burn Mr. Harris, you are going to sufferer." The Archdemon standing in front of him as he swung back and forth through the air, shackles dug deep into his wrists.
Burning is a concept that Xander had come to have a very personal understanding of. In fact, one might have called this higher understanding, enlightenment. He understood the pain and what it meant, he understood every charged up molecule of it, every square inch of charred flesh, and the smell of one's own melted skin. He remembered the first day swinging over that pit of flames in that small hellish cell; he remembered the branding and Asmodeus telling him the rules of the game. "You won't age, you won't die, you'll only suffer. This room is warded and while in it, these men can piece you apart and back together and you'll be conscious and aware of every agonizing moment of it. You are my toy, Mr. Harris."
He relived the shame and the fear, just as if it was real. He wanted to say something, to spit on that macabre and byzantine face before him, to show some bravado and tell the Archdemon to go fuck himself. Instead he trembled, his eyes tearing up. Asmodeus terrified him, enough so as to crush the vile hatred he felt. He couldn't believe she was dead, he still expected her to burst into the room and rescue him. Any minute now, any minute…
Buffy never came and the fiery whip started licking his skin. "Let's count back from a thousand shall we?" said the Whipman. Asmodeus walked away proudly, Xander biting down and through his lips so he wouldn't scream and beg for them to stop.
Pain. "1000…"
Pain. "999…"
Pain. "998…"
"Xander…" said a voice softly in the darkness. He opened his eyes slowly, Katrina's blurry form slowly coming into focus. She smiled sweetly at him, replacing a freshly wet towel on his forehead. He had the headache of a lifetime and his jaw opened painfully as he tried to speak. He scanned his surrounding for a moment; he was now in his bedroom, the covers of his comfortable bed wrapped tightly against his naked body, save for the boxer of course.
"Are you alright?" asked Katrina, sitting on the bed next to him.
"I've seen better days…" he answered, smiling. She smiled back weakly, her eyes carefully avoiding his.
"Willow?" she asked simply, her eyes finally meeting his. He instantly sighed.
"I wasn't screaming things while I was under, was I?" he asked jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. She nodded and he conceded. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm really scared of tress and have nightmares about them? No? Okay… Willow is this cute red head brainiac I grew up with."
"Another girlfriend, Xander?" asked Katrina teasingly with a small grin, "Should I be worried?" Xander instantly chuckled.
"Nah, just my bestest bud since like forever. I mean we did have this little fling at one point, some smoocharoos mostly, but then her boyfriend and my girlfriend got into the way of our relationship, you know, by finding out about it and such."
"Huh!" exclaimed Katrina in mocked outrage, placing both her hands on her hips. "So Mr. Harris, the truth comes out: you're a cheating dog, just like the other 90% of the male population… and I was starting to think you were above us mere mortals."
"Well, what can I say? Every superhero has their Kriptonite. I think the Xandernator's weak point lies in which part of his anatomy does the thinking for him, as witnessed by the broken arm and the knife in my back, curtsey of my psychotic ex-playmate."
"Ah, you get what you deserve when you play with matches. So… what happened, did your girlfriend forgive you?"
"Of course… after years of bitter estrangement, but on the upside, Willow got the full pardon from her boyfriend," answered Xander then adding in a exaggeratedly arrogant voice, "Of course, they didn't last long and she became a lesbian, but can you blame her? When you ride the Xander train it's hard to get off… wait that could be misinterpreted."
"Ride the Xander train, huh?" asked Katrina smiling shyly, "Guess I'll have to take your word for it… for now, anyways…" After the last side comment, she couldn't meet his gaze, and neither could have Xander met hers. He wasn't as blind as he had bee as a teenager, and was fully aware of her infatuation with him, though he had hoped it would die away as they learned more and more about just how much of a monster he really was. He had no excuses for the way he had acted in the past, for the wrongs he had committed; no demon had taken over his body like with Angelus. No, he had been a willing participant to his own damnation, and words such as "necessary evil" and "attenuating circumstances" brought little satisfaction to what little was left of a tortured conscience.
He understood Deadboy better now, though hated him all the more for it. How easy and comforting it must be to have a demon to blame your sins on, to relieve you of some culpability of your past acts and your darkest desires. And like always, he envied Angel all the more, perfect Angel, with the good looks and Buffy's heart, Angel who didn't lift a finger when Buffy went to meet her doom at the Master's hands, Angel who didn't save the day, but still got the girl. Envy was a terrible thing indeed, and the memory of it surged back into Xander. He envied that vampires didn't need to look at themselves in the mirror, that was always the toughest part of every day. And right now, more than anything else, he envied Angel's curse; it was such an easy way out, to have an excuse not to fall in love. He could use that right about now, he could have used that two years ago.
After a long awkward silence, during which none of the two managed to rally the strength to look at the other, Katrina finally broke the silence. "So… what happened to her? You lost touch when you went to the army?"
"I wasn't aware my military background was common knowledge," said Xander, growing grim, as she shrugged her shoulders.
"Garrett mentioned something… see we had this discussion about you, while you were under… but you haven't answered my question."
"No, I haven't," he said dryly and then after a moment, started again more sullen, "I… she's dead, let's leave it at that shall we? Where is Garrett and everybody anyways?"
"Sanaz took Garrett to the hospital; you broke his nose and his little finger, though I think he's more pissed with what you did to the house. Marcus and Gabe are cleaning up said mess. You know, the mess you did when you started acting crazy and started shooting up the place, and yelling stuff, half of which we couldn't understand, and then tried to put a bullet in my eye…"
"Oh! You notice that," said Xander sarcastically, and she smiled him an answer. "I'm not sure but I think something might be wrong with me? What do you think?"
"Just tell me you're not going insane," she pleaded seriously.
"I don't know about that, Katrina… but I don't think this is natural. I mean, this is too fast and accelerated; it all feels too precise. Someone's putting the whammy on my mind, and I mean that in the magical sense of the word."
"Any idea who?"
"How about that Asmodeus guy?" asked Gabe as he entered the room followed by Marcus, "You kept screaming that name when you were having you're little epileptic fit…"
"Epileptic fit?"
"Yeah," chimed in Katrina, "You were arching you're back and yelling in pain at the same time… like you were being whipped." She said the latter part more softly, indicating to Xander she was piecing some of the puzzle together slowly.
Xander sighed resigning. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, and resigned himself to answer, but did so by choosing his words very carefully, "I… don't think it's this particular… individual."
"Why's that?" asked Marcus, "I mean it didn't sound to us like you were buddies or anything. You know, by the way you kept yelling insults and threat in the proximity of his name. Especially the part where you were yelling 'Asmodeus, you're the one doing this to me! Quit messing with my mind, you bastard.' We kinda took that as a tip off."
"Just trust me, alright. I thought about it, and it can't be him."
"Dog, don't go all noble on us, now. I think I'm starting to figure you out and frankly we don't need you to hold our hands and keep us in the dark all the time. Something's messing with your mind? We got your back, that's all I'm saying."
Xander chuckled at Marcus' enthusiasm, shaking his head. The thought of Marcus and the rest of the gang facing off with the Archdemon was about as ridiculous as pitting a blind puppy against a hungry bear. For a moment he tried real hard to come up with the best way to impart that concept upon his friends. "Asmodeus is way out of your league guys and anyway…"
"How can you say that?" interrupted Gabe, angered by the comment. "I know we're not ex-special forces or professional demon hunters, but we're not incompetent. We can take care of ourselves and for once we can take care of you." The speech put a large pensive smile on Xander's face that immediately intrigued Gabe. "What?"
"You sound just like me—five years ago. Anyways, I don't just mean that Asmodeus is out of your class, is out of mine, is out of Faith's. He could kick both our asses without breaking a sweat, and trust me on that, if there was any way of taking him down, I would have done it a long time ago."
"Sounds like he gave you a real tussle," said Marcus, taking notice that Xander suddenly tensed up, his eyes lowering in something that looked strangely like shame. He seemed to have been chocked up by the question, sliding himself to a sitting position on the bed in a poor attempt to buy some time. The covers dropped, exposing the markings on his chest.
"He… he killed my… hero. The toughest, most stubborn and dangerous fighter I've ever known… and killed her under a minute… laughing like it was all a big joke, a little exercise before breakfast. He…" Xander hesitated to reveal anymore, but somehow he felt he owed them that much for putting their lives in danger. He wanted them to understand he wouldn't treat them like the old Scooby gang used to threat him, he didn't want to make them feel useless, "… killed someone who meant the world to me… took something that…" he stopped a moment, swallowing back the tears, and never finishing the thought, "… and then he tortured me for a very, very, very long time."
Xander's pointed at the markings on his chest with an open hand, "See this boys and girls? Let me give you your first lesson in Noble Speak, this says 'Royal prisoner 24631, property of his majesty Lord Asmodeus. I have to wear this the rest of my life. Every time I look in a mirror, it's right there, reminding me that I'll never have my vengeance, that he'll still be around long after I die, carrying the joy of killing my friend and of torturing me. So trust me, if there was a way… but there isn't, he just can't be killed…anyway it doesn't matter, it's not him."
The group grew quiet, an uneasy feeling coming over them. They were finally learning a bit more about their friends past, and it seem filled with horrors they could not even begin to relate to. No wonder he befriended the bottle, no wonder he was so dark and prone to violence. Xander slipped out of his bed and quickly reached into one of his drawing and aptly loaded a clip into a 9mm semi-automatic pistol.
"What are you doing?" asked Katrina panicked.
"I'm arming myself, and then I'm getting on my bike and going after whatever it is that's after me."
"Wait you can't ride a motorcycle with just one arm and what…"
"Sure I can. I was special force. You'd be surprised what I can do with just my left thumb."
"But what if…"
"Look, whatever it is that's pulling this magic trick, they know I'm here. And that makes me a more available target than I want to be, not to mention a threat to all of you. Whatever kind of whammy they're pulling on me, it's too powerful and demanding for it to work long range, that much I know. I keep moving, that means they have to keep moving, and they shouldn't be able to concentrate enough to give some more of those visions."
"But that's only a temporary solution."
"Not if I use this opportunity to bait them out. I can spot tail fairly easily, and then…" He cocked the pistol for effect, "I'm gonna seriously interfere with their mental process."
Riding down the urban highways, turning down an exit and heading down for central park, Xander wondered why a cop hadn't noticed him yet. His arm was visibly in a cast, he wasn't exactly respecting speed limits and as far as he'd ever been concerned, helmets took the fun out of riding a bike. Cosmic balance, he guessed; everyone has an equal amount of good luck and bad luck and since he'd been suffering so much lately, he figured the big wheel of fortune was letting him cash in a few of his credits. Xander couldn't say he was happy about that, he could have used a real chase. The adrenaline rush of the speed and the danger, coupled with the satisfaction of eluding an enemy he could see, would probably have been enough to relieve his tension.
Slowing down to 120 km/h, Xander started zigzagging his way between cars, burning red lights as he made his way toward Central Park. He felt unclean, having shared so much of his past with his friends. When you thought about it, he had only revealed a small part of his long history, but for him that was immense. His chattering mind was only quieted in the slightest by the hypnotic effect of the 500cc of raw power that was pulsating between his legs. The need for speed was quenched but it wasn't close to being enough. He kept thinking about the past now, the floodgates to his memory wide open, the images flowing before his eyes.
He remembered the look on Giles face as he prepared to announce his findings. He had a grim look that made Xander tremble; Buffy, Dawn, Spike and Tara didn't seem to catch it right away, looking at him filled with hope and a somewhat not so enthusiastic professionalism. But Xander knew right away, he knew by the way Giles cleared his throat, and tried to put on a stoic face.
"Well Giles," started Buffy, "Skip the description and the name, just tell us how we get it out of Willow?"
"Buffy, I believe in this case you might want the full briefing," said Giles, Buffy bracing herself for the news. "Its name is Zepar," Giles took a long pause, "It is a Soulburner demon." As he finished speaking, Xander noticed Spike's head slumping forward in desperation. The vampire muttered some curse under his breath, covering his eyes with his hand for a moment. He knew what it was and apparently, it wasn't looking good.
"Okay, now that we got that out of the way, how do I kill it Giles?" asked Buffy, trying not to pay attention to the mood that was developing inside the Magic Box .
"Giles?" repeated Buffy when the watcher seemed suddenly tongue-tied, unable to meet anybody's eyes.
"You don't, pet," finally interrupted Spike sullenly.
"Nobody asked you, Mr.Negativety," said Buffy with anger in her voice.
"I'm afraid Spike is correct, Buffy," had Giles finally managed, "Soulburners are incredibly blood thirsty demons, they thrive only on torture and suffering. Zepar is an extremely famous and powerful one. His kind… is trapped in this ethereal plane from which they can never escape, but from which they have considerable protection from everything else… What I'm trying to say is that Zepar isn't really inhabiting Willow's body so much as his projecting his essence onto her…"
"Like a puppet pulling string," added Spike.
"Shut up, Spike!" yelled Buffy, filled with misplaced anger. Xander was frozen, unable to warp his mind around what he was hearing.
"Willow has become his avatar," continued Giles, "and he is going to keep on killing through her until she is stopped." There was an eerie finality in Giles words, as if he was passing out a death sentence.
"No," said Tara softly. Dawn quickly pulled her into a hug.
"Giles, I don't like the way this is starting to sound," said Buffy, tears starting to form in her eyes.
"C'mon G-man," said Xander finally, "Okay, so killing it is not an option. What do we need to do to kick it out, some kind of spell?"
"I'm afraid it's too powerful…"
"Alright," Xander said, thinking for a moment then continuing, "maybe we can trick it to leave, like the genie and the bottle, or trade or something?"
"I met one of those blokes before, Xander," responded Spike, "They're bloody sharp and not one bit easy to fool. And this Zepar, he'll never leave Red, he's got the perfect host. All her bleedin' power at his disposal, why would he go. Not to mention she's the slayer's best friend, which makes his little avatar fairly safe from her."
"Don't you call Willow that!" shot Dawn from Tara's arms.
"She's gone, isn't she?" asked Xander, the whole room growing silent with his question. Buffy shook her head.
"No, I refuse to accept that. We'll find a way. We defeated Adam, Glory, The Mayor, we're not going to loose Willow. We'll find a way with time, if we can't make a deal with it, we'll find something powerful enough to kick it out and make a deal with them. I don't care what it…"
"Buffy," interrupted Xander, "What about all the people she's going to kill in the meanwhile?"
Inside the interior pocket of his leather jacket, there was a silver flask with his initials embossed in large letters, surrounded by a black lacquered square. Underneath was an inscription, "May it give you the courage you need, mate." He couldn't remember exactly how and when he and Spike had started to get along, but what really puzzled him is that sometimes, he actually missed the platinum haired vampire, not often but sometime. He took a swig of the scotch he kept inside, wondering how long it would take before he ran into Old William again. With the rate his past was catching up with him these days, it probably wouldn't be too long.
Xander leant back against a tree, staring at his motorcycle a few feet away in front of him. Central Park was a surprisingly luscious place considering the pollution that surrounded it. No one seemed to have called the cops on him for riding into the park on his motorcycle, and he found himself thinking back to that night in Bolivia, where he lost his entire team, the night ambush that should have claimed his life by all rights. The gentle burn of the scotch graced his throat once more.
A mist of blood spewed out through the back of the doglike creature's head, his eye retreating into nothingness as the bullet drilled its way through the creature's brain. Xander quickly pushed off its dead body from him and reloaded the Desert Eagle as he snapped to his feet as best he could; his movements were sluggish and almost clumsy because of the mud.
However, before he could cock the oversized pistol, he found himself alone in the darkness being stared at by three angry sets of eyes, three angry beast grunting hungrily not ten feet from him. They waited there preparing to attack him, and he knew the second he'd cock that pistol they would be all over him, but he went for it anyways, taking on last stand.
They rushed him at incredible speed but two of them died almost before taking their first steps, two mp5 bursts coming from the left blew both their respective heads off, and the third was tackled mid-flight, inches from Xander's throat by Faith. The creature and her rolled around in the mud for a moment before Faith roared and snapped its neck, while Xander empty his clip at invisible targets in the darkness of the trees.
"C'mon, boss," said Faith urgently as she turned toward him, her forehead was cut and blood was smeared on her face. "We got to high tail it out of here before they regroup, these things killed my entire platoon." Xander didn't respond right away, instead reloading his sidearm with the last clip he had.
"No," he finally said with a grim resolve. "I'm staying right here. You go ahead to the RV point, that's an order."
"Don't be stupid, Xander," said Faith as she quickly approached, reloading the Mp5 she used only seconds ago to take out the two beat as she came running to his rescue.
"Dammit Faith, I gave you an order!"
"Well with all due respect, sir," said Faith before sucker punching him so hard Xander knees wobbled. She made good of the opportunity and swung her dazed superior officer onto her shoulders. "You're coming with me."