Part Five
I can feel the voices behind me. They're watching me, looking and fading away again. I know they'll keep an eye on me, even if only to be sure. But they're there. The only reason they haven't acted yet, must be LaCroix. His protection, his bloodline. They wouldn't dare interfere. But if I overstep the boundaries that watching won't last.
The Slayer is waiting for me.
She's on a bench. Her coat covered over it, making a clean place to sit. She
must be freezing.
Her sweater is obviously to thin for the weather.
I sit next to her, even though I can't share body heat. I cross my arm, the cold
barely even touches me. She on the other hand is shivering like crazy. But her
hear is beating fiercely and she's staring at me.
I'm wearing a coat for camouflage amongs humans.
It's ragged, but I still hand it to her and she takes it. She hesitates a second
before accepting.
"Xander?"
I stay silent, staring into the fog.
"Who are you?"
It's a question she should have asked ages ago.
"My Watcher knows you."
The words have a tinge of anger about them. As if I've stepped on something I
shouldn't have. I'm not supposed to know anyone but her I guess. And her watcher
is hers too. We're not supposed to be connected. It doesn't fit her ideas of
what things are supposed to be like.
"She was furious when I … that you …"
"I'm a vampire Clarice. She's supposed to be worried. So should you for that matter."
"Who are you?"
How can I answer If even I don't know the answer.
"Nobody, just a vampire, a tired vampire."
She wants to ask more, but I silence her with a look.
"You're not a killer" How can she be so certain of that. I'm not even certain.
"Aren't I?"
She lets out a wry chuckle.
"Oh yeah, you're the dangerous killer. Who spends all night helping me out.
When do you kill then Xander? During the day, while hiding under a
blanket?"
OK, that's one for her. I don't kill, not anymore. Not if I can help it at least. And she knows I haven't killed a soul since I started following her.
"Are you cursed?" Her eyes are big and hopeful.
"Like Angelus?"
That does it. I start laughing. Is that what she thinks I am. Cursed. Safe as
long as I don't have a moment of perfect happiness.
If only.
Things aren't that simple for me.
I stop laughing as I realize that being souled is the natural state for me. No
excuses for my killing, no possible apology. Noone to blame for me.
I can't split my actions in two periods, before or after. All I've done since I
was brought across was all me. Even the beast is me.
"So are you? Souled."
"I don't know Clarice. I was never cursed that I know of. I'm just … me."
Her eyes seem calculating. As if she wants to know more. I can see it in the moves of her body, the way she twists around. She wants to know more. I can't tell her more.
I'm almost glad as I hear the distraction. Someone's here.
He's here.
She wants me to talk. But I just move away from her. She sprints after me. I
don't even face her. His laughter echoes through me. He's waiting for me to slip
up. So are they. I refuse.
She sees the other almost before I do. A demonbreed feeding on his prey.
The girls to close to death to save.
I growl loudly and he stares up, dropping her. The girl slips of the bench
and on the ground. She's still twitching but in the grip of death. I'm too late,
again.
His mouth is open as I stake him. In shock I reckon.
I'm a monster.
"Why do you want me to think you're a monster?"
I stare up and look at her. Is she crazy, she knows what I am, how can she even ask?
"You're not a monster Xander. I'd be death if you were."
Keep thinking that girl. It's what Buffy thought. And look where she's now.
I stumble away from her, refusing to turn back to her.
"Fuck it Xander. I'm not talking about fighting for me, you stupid
idiot."
Her voice sounds shrill in the night air.
"Don't you realize that you're the only thing that keeps me grounded to
life. The only reason I still choose to live, instead of just letting myself be
taken by some unknown nobody on the streets."
I'm surprised she knows. I didn't think she even got the point.
"You shouldn't think like that. I'm a monster."
I grab the crucifix on the band around her neck and can feel it burning in my
skin. It hurts, but I have to make her see.
"I'm dangerous. I'm a demon."
She smiles, "Are you?" she still doesn't believe me. There's a complete trust in her eyes and I run from it. Refusing to accept it.
I can see him in the shades, staring at her. Assessing her as en enemy, I'm
not sure.
I let go and start running. I never quite stop.
Buffy didn't run. She didn't even try. Not even when my fangs touched her skin.