DR2 - The Cross of Changes by Nick Midian, Book I, part 3 of 5

Written by Nick Midian

Content beta-reading and storyline suggestions by Duncan
English grammar, spelling, slang, Highlander continuity and general corrections
by Theo
French slang, content beta-reading and storyline suggestions by Mash
French slang by Alan


EMAIL: jcaballero@euskalnet.net

WEBSITE: http://www.angelfire.com/tv2/thedarkages

SPOILERS: For Buffy the Vampire Slayer: 3rd season, BUT no Xander/Willow kissing
and no Lover's Walk (welcome to the wonderful State of Denial, Land of
'Shippiness). Hmmm, I've messed with the third season's timeline to accommodate
it to my necessities. Let's just say that 'Band Candy' happened a lot later than
it did, around the first days of February, OK?
For Highlander: None really, the characters of the TV series and films are only
tangentially mentioned. You just need to know the basics of Highlander-style
immortality, BUT I've always thought that whole 'Immortals have no parents and
are found in a little basket' is a... um, the Spanish word for it is 'chorrada',
so let's just ignore it, OK?
KEYWORDS: Romance, Angst, Action-adventure, Violence, Alternate Universe,
Crossover.
RATING: PG-13 with some mild R parts for violence and sexual innuendo.
DISCLAIMER: This story has been written with no intention of profit, merely for
the pleasure of writing and sharing it.
The concept and characters of BTVS (Buffy, Angel, Cordelia, Xander, Willow, Oz,
Giles, Joyce, Spike, Drusilla, Snyder, Faith, Harmony, Lyle Gorch, Quentin
Travers and the rest) are intellectual and legal property of Joss Whedon, Warner
Brothers, Mutant Enemy, etc. Also, the concept of Highlander and the characters
mentioned here (Duncan MacLeod, Amanda Darieux, Richie Ryan, Joe Dawson and the
Society of Watchers) are the property of Panzer-Davis and Rysher Entertainment.
Michael Deveraux, Rachel Curran, Crystal Parker, Kyle White Owl, Robert
Coltrane, Elvis the Dog, Broderick Egoyan, Damon Frost, Mr. Smith, the World
Committee for Civil Defense and the rest are my own creation.
All the songs and lyrics here are used without permission, they are copyright of
their respective rights owners.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please, understand that English is not my native language, so
any grammatical or spelling errors are my fault, not of any one of my wonderful
beta-readers. If you're thinking of sending any flames, please be kind with me.
I'm a grown man, but I still can cry like a child, believe me.
Additional Author's Note: The songs performed by Oz's band are 'Loli Jackson'
and 'Serenade' by Dover. It appears courtesy of Subterfuge records. All rights
reserved, yadda, yadda, yadda...
SUMMARY: After the events in 'Dark Reflection' a new threat menaces both the
Slayerettes and the Archangels as new and old enemies come to Sunnydale, merging
past and present. This time, it's something personal - ta-da-da-dam!!! (sorry,
but I just had to say that)

And now, on with the show. Fasten your seat belts ladies and gentlemen, because
it's going to be a long, hard and jumpy ride...

~~~~~~

The cast for Book I:

Nicholas Brendon as Xander Harris
Charisma Carpenter as Cordelia Chase

Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy Summers
David Boreanaz as Angel
Alyson Hannigan as Willow Rosenberg
Seth Green as Daniel 'Oz' Osborne
Anthony Stewart Head as Rupert Giles
Kristine Sutherland as Joyce Summers

Matthew Perry as Michael Deveraux
Paula Trickey as Rachel Curran
James Marsters as Spike
Nikki Cox as Crystal Parker
David James Elliott as Kyle White Owl
Elvis the Dog as Himself

Eliza Dushku as Faith Adams
Donald Sutherland as The Old Chess Player
Sebastian Spence as Damon Frost
Avery Brooks as Mr. Smith

Harris Yulin as Quentin Travers
John Heard as Officer Mark Hastings, SPD
Nicholle Tom as Myriam Archer
Brian Bosworth as Cecil
Denniz Franz as Det. Edward Kowalsky, LAPD

and

Nicholas Lea as Jonah Whalls

~~~~~~

CHAPTER TWO: My own private devil
En route to Sunnydale, California. December 2, 2002. 12:40 a.m.

If there's a God or any kind of justice under the sky
If there's a point, if there's a reason to live or die
If there's an answer to the questions we feel bound to ask
Show yourself, destroy our fears, release your mask

"Innuendo", Queen


The highway was dark, wet and cold. The wipers of the Cadillac barely managed to
clear the heavy coupe's windshield, making Michael drive with a little less
tranquility than what he would have preferred.

Quiet reigned inside the car, the rhythmic sound of the rain falling outside
almost a balm to their troubled spirits.

As usual, Spike, Kyle and Crystal had packed themselves into the Texan's
off-road vehicle and Michael just could picture them, the bleached-hair vampire
and the tall Texan exchanging puns and verbal blows, while the reserved witch
tried not to look very bored at their apparent immaturity from the back seat.

Taking a look in the rear-view mirror, the French Immortal could not help but
smile at the sight of Rachel's sleeping figure in the back seat, using her hand
as a pillow and her mahogany hair falling in soft locks around her beautiful
face and shoulders.

Shaking his head in amusement, Michael wondered, not for the first time, what he
had done that had made him worthy of that woman's love. The only thing he was
sure of was that he had never been so happy, had never had such a feeling of
rightness as when he was in Rachel's arms, when they exchanged soft words of
love and commitment in the darkness of their bedroom.

Coughing and almost blushing at the images that came to his mind on that
thought's trail, Michael felt like a moron, not able to hide the grin that had
appeared on his face from ear to ear.

"Pleasant thoughts?" Xander asked in a low voice beside him, smiling knowingly.

Michael observed him out of the corner of his eye, and could not help but frown.
With the course of the years, he had come to know the expressions on his
friend's face well; from that slight raising of his right eyebrow when he didn't
understand something, to the way he looked down when he was embarrassed, Michael
had a complete knowledge of all of Xander's faces.

Now, seeing the smile on his lips that didn't reach his dark eyes and the way he
tried not to frown with little success, he understood that something really dark
was inside him.

"Is there a reason not to have them?" he asked with caution, testing the waters.

Xander simply shrugged, and looked at the dark exterior of the car. "Someone
left Heaven's dam open tonight," he observed, changing the subject
not-very-subtly.

Knowing that pressing him would be useless and that he would open up in his own
time, the French Immortal let the subject drop, switching on the radio to a
classic music station.

Michael let Debussy's soft chords filled the interior of the car, and noticed
how Xander took out a cell phone from the interior of his leather coat.

The young vampire quickly dialed a number he knew by heart, and patiently waited
until it was picked up a continent away.

"This is Archangel Team Leader," he told the microphone, "the identification
code is Delta-Foxtrot-One-Three. The Kobayashi situation has been handled. Zero
civilian casualties, zero casualties on my team, all tangos..." he passed a hand
through his dark hair, closing his eyes with a tired expression,
"...eliminated."

He waited a few moments in silence, while he listened to the phone. "No, just
run the usual interference with the police and local authorities, I'll send a
secure email tomorrow with the complete report." Without waiting for a response,
Xander pushed the 'end call' button a little too violently, and hid the phone.

"The burden of leadership, mon frère," Michael observed with an accomplished
smile.

Xander didn't answer him; he just leaned his temple on the cold glass of the
window and closed his eyes, allowing the rocking movements of the car lure him
to a restless light sleep.

~~~~~~

"I just don't get it," Buffy said, tightening her jacket around her. "Even the
vampires are smart enough to stay in their little holes on a night like this.
What the hell are we doing here?"

Angel looked down at her with a gleam of amusement in his dark eyes and hugged
her, wishing he had some body heat to share with her so she would be a little
warmer.

"Cold?" he asked unnecessarily.

"Cold. Wet. Bored," she pouted. "I wanna go home. Why can't we go home?"

The souled vampire shrugged helplessly. "Sacred duty, Chosen One, blah, blah,
blah..." She whined and childishly hid her face in the crook of his arm, making
the vampire laugh. "Come on Buffy, it's not that bad."

"It is," she disagreed. "It's like doubly bad, because we know positively that
there are almost no vampires left in Sunnydale. Not after we kicked their undead
asses last month."

Angel just raised a dark eyebrow. It was true that after the whole de Rais
debacle, the vampire population of Sunnydale had drastically decreased; but both
of them knew that it was nothing more than a momentary respite.

As long as there was a Hellmouth under the town, there would be vampires and
other nasty things going bump in the night.

It was just a matter of time, until the earth would move under their feet again.
However, it was nice to have some quiet time for a change, even if it was short.

"So?" the vampire asked.

"So we're idiots to be searching for them, knowing that their undead asses are
gone." Buffy crossed her arms. "Can we go home now? Or better," she looked at
him seductively under her eyelashes, tracing a slow pattern on his silk-clad
chest with her index finger, "we can go to your apartment and..." she let the
idea trail off.

The souled vampire felt his mouth part in an unwanted, but not unwelcome smile.
He seemed to be doing that a lot recently. "And?" he asked a little huskily,
smoothly taking her into his arms.

She shrugged, sharing his accomplished smile. "I don't know. We could be...
creative."

"Creative, that sounds pretty good."

They kissed slowly and lovingly, both of them knowing that, in spite of their
wanting and their verbal play, they couldn't do much more than kiss and even
cuddle a little. That there was a barrier that they couldn't cross, no matter
how much they wanted to.

They would spend the rest of the night in each other's arms, with the melancholy
blanket of the lack of satisfaction of fulfillment covering them. But that was
the choice they had made a long time ago, and they had to stick to it, even when
it sometimes hurt like hell.

And now they had a little light of hope to hold on to, more than ever.

"Are you making any progress with Crystal?" she asked, once they had
disentangled themselves and resumed their walk, protected from the thin,
bone-drenching mist into which the rain had turned by Angel's black umbrella.

The tall vampire sighed as they walked side by side, their arms locked. "We'd
proceed faster if we had the help of somebody who actually spoke the language."

"In other words, nope."

He shook his head. "I don't know, Buffy. I'm beginning to think that it's
nothing more than another dead end. I don't want to hope if it is only going to
bring me... us pain," he corrected himself, remembering that he wasn't the only
one affected by his curse, that she had sacrificed as much, maybe more, than
himself. "Maybe I should give up and..."

"Hey!" the Slayer stopped dead in her tracks and yanked at the fabric of his
coat, making him face her in spite of their difference of heights. "We talked
about this a long time ago, Angel, and we made a pact. We are in this together.
If you fall I'll be there to help you rise again, if I get hurt you'll help me
to heal. Everything I am..."

He caressed her face, barely tracing her beautiful features with his cold
fingertips, captivated by the inner strength that seemed to flow from her in
almost palpable waves, by her fierce loyalty and love. "...Everything I'll ever
be..." He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers before softly
kissing her on the lips.

"And you promised no more brooding," she added with a note of reprimand in her
voice, stepping back to look at him.

The souled vampire chuckled on her behalf. "Old habits die hard, and mine are
really old."

Shaking her head, the blonde Slayer took his arm again, resuming their walk.
"Not that I want to change the subject, but do you have any idea of what Xander
and the guys were up to?"

Angel shrugged helplessly, a gesture that seemed almost awkward with his broad
shoulders. "Last time I spoke with any of them, they seemed... I don't even know
how to explain it. Like samurais, waiting for a war to begin. Even Spike was
tight-lipped."

She sent him a look of surprise. "We have to talk with them."

"About?"

"About everything. I so know that they're hiding something, and I don't like it
at all."

Now it was Angel's turn to look at her with a frown. "Buffy, don't you think
you're being a little..."

"What, paranoid?"

He smiled crookedly. "You said it, not me."

"Well, you know what they say, it's not paranoia if they're really out to get
you."

At that very moment the honk of a car horn was heard behind them and the couple
turned around, momentarily blinded by the headlights of the vehicle, which
slowly parked beside them.

The blonde Slayer couldn't help but cringe when an unpleasant buzz shook her
whole being for a second, until it transformed itself into a nuzzling sensation
at the back of her head.

Buffy and Angel immediately recognized Michael's black Cadillac and bent down
beside the passenger's window, which was already rolling down, as Kyle's red
Pathfinder kept on going, saluting them with a couple of honks. Buffy waved at
it with a smile, before centering her attention on the dark-haired head that
appeared in the window.

"What's up, lovebirds?" Xander greeted them with an open smile. "Taking a walk?"

"Hi guys," the Slayer took a look at the dark interior of the huge coupe. In the
back seat Rachel looked half-asleep, while Michael smiled at her from behind the
steering wheel. "You tell me, Xander. Where have you been?"

The young vampire shrugged and tried to look at them innocently, failing
miserably. "You know, here and there, knocking some heads, taking some names...
pure routine."

The Slayer raised a golden eyebrow, and stared pointedly at the French Immortal.
"What do you say, Michael? Are you going to be a real gentleman, and gimme the
truth?"

Before he could even speak at all, Rachel leaned between the front seats, and
amused gleam in her dark chocolate eyes. "You're asking a Frenchman to tell a
woman the truth? Forgive me Buffy, but you're kinda being a little nave, my
dear."

Michael just looked at her, out the corner of his eye. "I'll remember that the
next time you ask me if I think you've gained weight, ma chèrie."

The brunette Immortal just slapped him on the shoulder, making him yelp and the
rest laughed good-naturedly.

"Anyhoo," Xander continued, "everything alright here? Nothing nasty going bump
in the night?"

"You mean besides the guys in Oz's new band?" Angel asked. "Not that we know
of."

Xander closed his eyes, and muttered a curse under his breath. "Damn! Oz was
going to debut today, I forgot!" He looked at his friends with a helpless
expression. "Was he mad? Check that, was Willow mad?"

Letting out a short giggle, Buffy shook her head. "No. I'm sorry to say it, but
she was too ecstatic even to notice. Both of them were, in fact. It's been a
blast, everybody loved them."

The young vampire frowned, scratching the back of his head. "Oh man, I'll talk
with them tomorrow. But what about Cordy, how's she?"

Buffy and Angel just exchanged a short but meaningful look, before looking back
at him with a grimace on their faces.

"That bad, huh?" Xander banged softly his head on the frame of the window,
rolling his eyes. "Damn, I'm gonna pay for this, aren't I?"

Angel patted his shoulder with understanding. "I'm afraid so, Xander."

Michael practically leaned over Xander, pushing him back against his seat in his
haste to take his head out the window. "Buffy, don't forget that you have
training tomorrow after class, so bring your Kendo sword with you."

"But tomorrow's Monday," she whined. "I'll be tired and cranky, can we do it
some other day? Pleeeease?" She looked at him, batting her eyelashes and
offering her best lost-little-girl impersonation.

"Don't look at me with those puppy dog eyes, ma petite," Michael reprimanded
her. "I'm not Giles, I'm not gonna fall for your..." She pouted, and looked
unbelievably helpless.

Michael grimaced, as if in pain. "Oh, sacrèbleu, you little manipulative brat!
D'accord, d'accord! Come after class and we'll have a short session, then you
can go out after that and do... whatever youngsters do these days, to... enjoy
yourselves."

"Now you're really beginning to sound like Giles," Rachel observed. Michael just
reproached her with his dark blue eyes.

Shaking his head and letting out a dry smile, Xander shook their friends' hands
goodbye. "Well guys, I'll see you tomorrow, take care and don't do anything
stupid, OK?"

"Us?" Buffy looked truly offended. "When have we ever done something like that?
Feel free not to answer that question."

With a final snort, Xander waved them goodbye and the Cadillac drove away, its
red taillights the only fathomable feature of the vehicle. Buffy and Angel
looked at their retreating lights in silence, until even they were invisible in
the darkness of the night.

"What's up with them?" Buffy asked with a deep frown.

Angel looked down at her with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on! Don't tell me you didn't notice how they changed the subject when
I asked what they'd been doing?"

The dark-haired vampire shrugged. "Truth is, I was too... distracted to notice
anything much at all."

It was Buffy's turn to frown. "Distracted? By what?"

Angel sent her one of his patented dark looks. "By the fact that Xander and
Michael smelled as if they had taken a bath in blood."

~~~~~~

When Michael's Cadillac finally arrived a few minutes later at the huge
warehouse that the group used as headquarters and for living purposes, they
found the red Pathfinder still parked outside while its owner fumbled with the
electronic controls of the main gate.

With a grunt of pure annoyance, the French Immortal parked beside them and
rolled down his side's window.

"What's going on?" he asked Spike, who was leaning on the off-road vehicle with
an expression of complete boredom on his pale face.

The bleached-hair vampire shrugged. "The security controls are down... again.
The Cowboy's tryin' to make a... what did he call it?"

"An on-the-spot repair," Crystal offered, as bored as Spike.

"Yeah, well, I'd call it a blotch but..."

Michael and Xander shared a look and the young vampire got out the car with a
tired grunt, quickly walking to where his Texan friend was working with his
fingers sunk into a sea of electric wires and connections. "Kyle, what the
hell...?"

"Is going on?" he finished for Xander, while he cut two wires and connected them
together. "I'll tell you what's going on. 'Install a security system,' you said.
'We don't want any more vampires walking into our home as if it were theirs,'
you said. Well, man, I did, and look where it's gotten us."

Xander rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the tall
Texan with a patient expression. "This is because Michael got those Chinese
systems instead the ones you wanted, isn't it?"

"Hey! I can only work with what you get me, I don't do miracles. I asked for the
new Texas Instruments Ch400 system but noooo, Mickey had to get this Yamasushi
or whatever."

A spark flew from the electric panel and Kyle yelped, shaking his hand and
sucking his pained finger. "Now, red or blue?"

"Red," Xander answered automatically, with a sigh.

The tall Texan took a red plastic-covered wire, discarding the blue one, and
made it contact with one of the boards, producing a new series of electric
sparks and a foul smell of burnt plastic that almost made the two of them
sneeze.

Finally, the steel roller-door of the main gate rolled up with a rusty shake,
and Kyle wiggled his eyebrows.

"Et voila!" he exclaimed, pleased with himself before closing the panel. "I'll
take a look at it tomorrow."

"I'm just curious," Xander said, raising a dark eyebrow slightly, "but what
would've happened if I'd said 'blue'?"

Kyle shrugged with an innocent grin. "The whole place would have blown up into
little pieces."

The young vampire nodded slowly, not losing his cool façade. "I see... get those
Texas Instruments systems. Tomorrow. First thing in the morning."

The tall Texan mocked a military salute. "Aye-aye, sir!"

"And don't call Michael 'Mickey'!" he exclaimed at his retreating back. Then,
Xander shook his head in resignation.

"What have I done to deserve this kindergarten?" he asked himself in a low
voice.

Some minutes later, after they took the vehicles inside and taken the trembling
lift to the second floor, the colorful group of demon hunters was greeted by a
barking sound and the figure of a large German shepherd, who happily jumped
around them.

"Hey, Elvis!" Rachel knelt down beside the large Alsatian, and petted him
between his pointed ears, scratching his furry head and neck and making him
whine delightfully. "How's my favorite boy?"

Michael stopped beside them, and raised an eyebrow. "She never does that to me,"
he observed.

"Well, mate," Spike observed with a smirk, "you never whine that way, either."

The two Immortals exchanged a weird look, before directing their gazes back at
the bleached-hair vampire.

Spike just shivered. "I so don't wanna know about it."

With a smile, Rachel let the dog go away and the large animal quickly trotted
towards Kyle, who patted his head before going in search of some food for him.

Minutes later, after sharing a quick snack, Kyle and Crystal quickly said
goodnight to the rest of their friends and went in search of their respective
beds, intending on getting some hours of decent sleep before the morning.

"What are you going to do, Spike?" Xander asked his blood-brother, seeing that
the bleached-hair vampire was making a beeline back to the elevator.

"Bloody hell, Xandman. Night's still young, I think I'll get meself a good dark
spot in a bar, down one or two shots and find a nice señorita to..."

"Spike..."

The bleached-hair vampire gave him an edged smile, and winked at him. "You've
turned me into a saint, mate, but not some bloody monk."

Xander couldn't help but smile at the man that once had been his mortal enemy.
"Just don't do anything I wouldn't, OK?"

"What?" Spike looked really concerned. "That doesn't leave me many options. I
mean, do you and the prom queen know any position apart from the missiona-"

"Just get the hell outta here!" Xander playfully pushed him to the elevator, the
two of them at the brink of laughter.

=Good God,= he thought with amazement, =how much has the world changed that I
need William the Bloody to lift my spirits?=

But then, that was what friends were for, wasn't it? And speaking of friends...
he went in search of Rachel and Michael, finding the both of them in the
kitchen. The brunette Immortal was scrambling in the interior of the large
fridge in search of snack, while her equally Immortal boyfriend hugged her waist
from behind, placing soft kisses on her neck and making her giggle.

Xander couldn't help but smile at them, remembering a time not so long ago when
his two friends still tiptoed around each other, as if they were made of china
instead of flesh and bone.

=And blood,= he told himself, remembering that he wasn't the only one with a
past full of inner wounds.

"Michael, be quiet!" Rachel's giggling exclamation took him out of his momentary
reverie and he plastered his cool façade on again, offering them a smile that
didn't reach his eyes.

"Hey Xander, are you hungry?" the brunette asked, spotting him. The young
vampire could had sworn that she was blushing a little.

"No, thank you," he rejected his friend's offer. "I just wanted to tell you good
night."

"Xander, mon frère," Michael got his attention when he was about to leave. "Is
there anything you want to talk about?"

Not being able to hide a little cringe of surprise, Xander turned around, losing
himself for a second in the French Immortal's gaze of pure affection and worry.
He managed a tight smile and shook his head.

Yes, he needed to talk but, for once, Michael wasn't the one who could help him.


"Maybe tomorrow," he whispered, while softly shaking his head. "Good night,
guys."

"Good night, Xander." Rachel looked at his retreating dark figure and waited
until he disappeared in the private area, before turning around inside Michael's
embrace to face him. "What's up with him?"

The French Immortal shook his head, frowning slightly. "I don't know, mon amour.
But he will come to us about it in his own good time."

Rachel nodded and leaned on her lover's chest, trying not to worry too much
about the young man, who was more like a younger brother to her than a mere
friend.

~~~~~~

Xander just took a quick shower and changed clothes, as if erasing all traces of
that night's events from his body would do the same with his mind and soul.

But, as always, it didn't work at all. He just knew he needed something more, he
needed to purge himself, to clean that dark spot that the night's massacre had
caused inside him.

He got out of the shower and dried himself off with a fluffy towel, rubbing so
hard that he managed to give his pale skin the crimson tone that the hot water
hadn't achieved. He put on a pair of black silk boxers, dark blue jeans and a
tight white T-shirt.

He also put a simple pair of black sneakers over his socks and slipped a plain
leather jacket over his shoulders, quickly collecting his watch, keys and wallet
before getting out of the room.

Xander walked in absolute silence inside the now darkened warehouse, his vampire
eyes allowing him to see as if it were midday, and climbed up the stairs to the
roof, opening the door at the end of it before stepping into the cold air of the
night.

Once on the roof, the young vampire took a long and unnecessary breath while he
walked to the edge. Was he doing the right thing?

He could wait till tomorrow and sleep off his worries, share them with the
pillow. He was a grown man, he didn't need to...

=Liar,= her voice said calmly inside his head, =you've become addicted.=

With a self-knowing smile, Xander simply took a step forward and launched
himself into the air, flying into the darkness as if he was some kind of giant
bat.

~~~~~~

Cordelia felt restless. She had spent the last few hours turning around in bed,
in the apartment she shared with Buffy and Willow, either trying to resolve the
mysteries of the wet spots on the ceiling or uselessly counting sheep to lure
herself to sleep.

But it was all for nothing, because her mind didn't want to stop coming back one
time after another to the image of certain dark-haired vampire who happened to
be her so-called boyfriend.

She didn't want to admit it, either, but she was sick with worry for him. In the
almost half-month since he had come back to Sunnydale, practically walking out
from the past like a dark shadow, Xander had been first dark and brooding. Then
as happy as she had ever known him to be, and then he was back to being dark and
haunted again.

And what bothered her was that she didn't know why, but she feared that it could
be because of her.

Xander had told her once that she was one of the things he had missed the most
during his time far away from Sunnydale, and Cordelia feared that he had somehow
idealized her during that time.

Only to face now the truth of the fact that she was human, with her defects and
ugly spots.

She had also changed with the years, but sometimes she was still spoiled,
self-centered, stubborn and not as smart as she would like to be. Had Xander
realized now that they just weren't on the same level? Did he find her less
appealing now?

And the most important question, the one that she'd never had the guts to voice
aloud or even recognize herself. Had he finally understood the fact that she was
going to grow old and wrinkled, and then die – while he was going to remain
eternally young and as handsome as a man could ever be?

With a groan, she hid her face in the pillow, trying to chase those thoughts
away. That wasn't who she was. She was Cordelia Chase, strong, secure of
herself. And Xander knew and valued that... didn't he?

The truth was that she knew practically nothing about the man that was her
lover, and the owner of her heart. He wasn't the same Xander she had lost almost
four years ago.

Yeah, that was an understatement; even when they shared the most important
traits, his fierce loyalty towards those he loved, his honesty and kindness, his
bravery and lack of selfishness, the rest was completely different.

Not only was the raw power of the demon lurking inside him, it was him, the
human being, that had changed. He had some inner wounds that were still
bleeding, that was for sure, and she wanted to reach out and help him to heal.

But she couldn't do that while he protected himself inside an armor-suit of
darkness and silence. OK, Cryptic Guy could be interesting, even sexy, but only
for a short time.

After that, it got boring first and then it could only drive them apart.

Cordelia sighed. She was on an emotional roller coaster, up and down all the
time. She wanted to comfort him and need comfort from him at the same time, she
wanted to know his heart and soul as much as she knew his body, maybe even
better.

She wanted total commitment, and that scared her.

She groaned, once more turning around under the covers.

But, above all, she plainly wanted him. Right now. Right here.

Once, a long time ago, she had wondered what it would be like to be with him.
She had spent endless hours speculating about how the contact of his naked body
against hers would feel, how it would be to get aroused by his touch.

Now that she knew it first-hand, she had discovered that he was addictive.

Now, once more, she was hopelessly in love with him. And it was that which
scared her the most, because the last time she had known such intense feelings
everything had been ripped away out of her hands.

"Where the hell are you, Xander?" she asked her pillow in a low voice.

As if it had wanted to answer her, a soft tap was heard and Cordelia jerked up
in her bed, looking around herself with surprise, feeling her heart beating fast
inside her chest.

=He's here,= she thought to herself, not being able to avoid feeling like the
heroine of a cheesy romance novel, about to be kidnapped from her own bedroom by
a rude but gorgeous rebel. =But where...?=

The tap was heard again, and this time the brunette young woman picked up the
origin of the sound. It came from her window and she lost no time in getting out
the warm interior of her bed and softly padding to it, opening the windowpane
and letting the cold wind of the night blow into her room, making her long hair
and night-gown flap around.

And there he was, looking gorgeous beyond belief, a sheepish smile on his
perfect lips and a rogue spark in his seemingly bottomless dark eyes.

She took a look at his fitting jeans, the tight T-shirt that defined so well his
muscled chest and the plain leather jacket that fell so wonderfully on his broad
shoulders – and couldn't help but think to herself, =Yummy!!=

Nevertheless, even when both of them knew perfectly well what was going to
happen, she didn't want to give him the impression that she was easy, by any
means.

=If you want a little piece of lovin' tonight, you'll have to work for it,
Xander.=

"Hi," he simply greeted her, his hands hidden innocently behind his back.

Cordelia leaned on the window frame, crossing her arms over her chest and
quizzically looking at him through half-closed eyes. "Do you have any idea what
time it is?"

Xander made a show of looking at his watch before answering. "Almost a quarter
past two in the morning." He looked at her with a devilish smile. "Did I wake
you up?"

Cordelia had to make a serious effort not to smile back. Why did he have to be
so damn attractive? And when had he learnt to push all her buttons correctly?
"Do you really expect me to be waiting for you, like some kind of damsel waiting
for her white knight?" =And you can be damned, Xander. You know I am.=

She then gave him her most charming smile. "Why shouldn't I let you spend the
rest of the night out there?"

He took his right arm from behind his back, showing her what he was hiding
there. Rolling its stem between his fingers, he held a single daisy, that he
offered to her with a smile.

"I've brought flowers," he said, almost shyly.

With a delighted smile, Cordelia accepted the offered gift, taking it with a
swift caress of her slender fingers over Xander's hand. She smelled it and
looked at her lover through her long eyelashes, finally giving him a slow and
sexy smile.

"In that case..." she leaned close to him and place her hand on the back of his
neck, softly bringing their mouths together in a slow and deep kiss.

When they finally broke apart, still rubbing their noses together as they
exchanged soft and lingering kisses, Xander smiled widely, letting one of his
hands rest on her hip and the other one cup her beautiful face.

"Hmmm... not that I'm... complaining, but... your neighbors are going... to
freak if they see me here... in the rain..." he said.

Cordelia returned kiss for kiss, drinking from his mouth the dark and
bittersweet taste of him, her fingers sliding into his slightly longish and wet
hair, caressing his scalp. "Not to mention the fact... that you're floating...
three floors off the ground..."

"Yeah, that too," he broke away for a second to look down at the empty space
under his feet, before looking back at her with a crooked smile. "Would you
believe me if I told you that I'm floating on a cloud of happiness because of
you?"

Cordelia just giggled, practically dragging him into the room through the open
window. "Come here, Mr. Suave."

With a smile, Xander did as he was told without any reluctance on his part.

~~~~~~

Later, when the fever of their lovemaking had subdued and their naked bodies
were being warmed by the pleasant fire of their satisfied love under the covers
of Cordelia's bed, she began to really look at him for the first time that
night.

He had his head pillowed on her flat stomach, hugging her sides as she slowly
caressed his hair, marveling not for the first time of his silkiness. Men's hair
was usually so unpleasantly greasy... but his face was hidden and she needed to
look at him to read his soulful eyes, so she could know the real reason why he
had come to her at such a late hour.

Well, not that sex (amazing, mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex, pointed out an
evil inner voice) wasn't a good reason, but she couldn't fool herself. She had
felt it in the way he'd touched her tonight, in how he'd kissed and made love to
her.

He had been as tender and loving as always, but there had been something...
desperate in their lovemaking tonight.

"Why don't you come back here?" she softly asked, never stopping her caresses.

Cordelia felt him softly shaking his head, his hair tickling the undersides of
her breasts, before he answered in a little, almost childish voice.

"No, I'm great down here." He snuggled closer to her, hugging her waist tighter
and raising his knees almost to a fetal position under the covers.

"It's soft, it's warm and it even smells good. I like it here," he concluded,
patting her perfect belly and making her giggle.

"I love you, Xander," she said out of nowhere. She just felt the need to express
it aloud.

He slowly propped up his head, looking at his lover with eyes that, in the
twilight of the bedroom, were full of wonder and vulnerability. "Why?"

She shook her head and shrugged helplessly, smoothing his hair away from his
forehead in a tender gesture. "Because of sentimental reasons."

That, at least, made him chuckle. "'Cause you're a good man, Xander. You're
brave, kind, funny... and you have a great ass."

She passed a fingertip slowly over his generous lips. "I love you because you
make me want to be a better person."

"Now you're plagiarizing Jack Nicholson," he observed, slightly raising an
eyebrow but kissing her finger.

"Well," she shrugged, "he got an Oscar."

He shook his head in amazement and lay beside her, covering both their bodies
with the sheets before taking her into his arms so they were spooned together,
her flawless back against his broad chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked once they had spend some minutes in a
deep silence only broken by the sound of their breathing.

Xander sighed. "About what?"

He felt Cordelia shrugging slightly. "About whatever's bothering you."

"Is it that obvious?"

She turned around in his embrace, facing him and setting her hazel eyes on his
dark brown ones for a long moment before speaking. "I know you have secrets,
Xander," she said, making his eyebrows shot up in surprise, "and I want to
believe that you think you're guarding them for our own good, but..."

He sighed. "But?"

"But I don't want it, I don't want this to be like when we were teenagers. For
you to hide something from me."

He closed his eyes, and shook his head. "Some things are meant to be hidden away
in the dark, Cordy."

"Nonsense," she looked straight at him and it was as if she could see straight
into his heart and soul, "and you know it. Lying is never a good policy when
you're involved in a relationship."

The young vampire passed a hand over his face with a tired expression, wondering
why, if he had come to her to pour his heart out, he was so reluctant to do it
now.

Old habits die hard, it's difficult to teach new tricks to an old dog, and all
that. But he wasn't old. And everything seemed as new to him as it would ever
be.

"I've done something tonight," he finally managed to murmur. "I killed some
people."

Cordelia felt her heart skip a beat but said nothing, giving him time and space
to express it in his own way.

"Not vampires, Cordy." His expression was somber and haunted, and Cordelia felt
him shivering in her arms as if he was fevered. "Not a vampire, and not a demon.
Not a horrible supernatural thing born from a nightmare, just simple, deranged
human beings."

He shook his head and hugged Cordelia tightly, burying her face in the crook of
his neck. "Was it necessary?" she finally asked.

Xander had to make a real effort not to snort. "Necessary? That's what is eating
me up from the inside, Cordy." She looked at his eyes, and what she saw there
chilled her to the bone.

Xander was on the verge of tears. "I don't have the slightest idea," he said.

"Xander," she fought with her own tongue to find the right words. Offering
comfort had never been her strongest point but, for the man in her arms, she
would do anything.

"Whatever you've done, not only tonight but in all these years you've been away,
whatever choices you've made, whatever path you've chosen to walk, I'm sure it's
been the right one."

He shook his head. "How can you be so sure?"

Cordelia just smiled so warmly, that Xander felt his heart melting. "Because
it's led you back to me, sweetheart."

The young vampiric Immortal felt a wide, almost stupid grin extending across his
lips and he brought Cordy's mouth to his, closing their lips together in a
soul-deep kiss that, even when it seemed to last an eternity, was way too short
for his liking.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep?" she suggested, snuggling closer to him.
"Things always look better in the light of day."

Xander had to bite his lip not to laugh aloud. =If you only knew, Cordy...=

But, nevertheless, he just followed her advice, rearranging his grip on her body
so she'd be comfortable in his embrace. He hid his face in her mane, and let the
soft perfume of her hair and the warmth of her body accompany him to sleep.

"What are we going to do, Cordy?" he mumbled, before closing his eyes.

Cordelia just caressed his hands, holding him. "Like you told me once, we'll
just keep walking."

Xander couldn't help but smile at this; but that night, like many others before,
sleep didn't bring the rest and peace in his soul he yearned for.

Rather, the nightmare of his past that, despite being real, was no less
terrifying...

~~~~~~

INTERLUDE I: Only the good die young
Sunnydale, California. February 12, 1999. 7:53 p.m.

In the heat of the street of the city
A young boy hides the pain
And he walks so tall, trying to hang on
But he knows he's going down again
I know he's going down...

"The hardest part is the night", Bon Jovi


Looking at it in retrospect, everything could be summarized with the last stanza
of that old poem written by George Herbert in 1651: 'so it is a kingdom was
lost. All for the want of a nail'.

Of course, in this case there wasn't any kingdom or nail, exactly: but it
wouldn't have been far from the truth to say that everything would have turned
out very differently, if he hadn't had the great idea of asking for anchovies on
the pizzas that night.

The doors of the library slammed opened violently as Xander Harris stormed off,
clenching his fists in an effort to control his boiling rage, and leaving all
his friends looking at his retreating back in mute astonishment.

He could feel the flush on his face, and knew that his ears were probably red
from the amount of blood that was rushing to his head.

He couldn't remember ever being so angered or utterly embarrassed before, not
even that time he had found himself in the middle of class wearing only his
underwear. This time, it was even worse than the love spell incident.

Damn it, it had established a new record on his shit-o-meter.

The problem was, truth be told, that he wasn't quite sure why he was so angry.
So furious, in fact, that he wanted to punch something, to hit the wall with his
bare fists until they were broken and bleeding.

Maybe, if he focused on the physical pain, the red veil of fury that was
covering his eyes would vanish a little, the drumming sound of his pumping heart
would fade in his ears and he could think straight once more.

=That,= her voice said inside his brain with the same mocking tone she had used
moments before, =would be nice, but only if you could actually do such a thing.=

"Shut up!" he practically screamed, pressing the palms of his hands against his
temples, trying to mitigate the deep piercing pain in his head.

His voice echoed along the empty halls of Sunnydale High, and Xander had to make
an effort to calm down a little. He needed to cool down before he made some
stupid mistake, some irreparable stupidity.

He turned around, and found the hallway as empty as it had been when he had
stormed off out of the library. No one had come after him. No one had cared.

He turned around again, and faced the school's exit door. And turned once more.

=OK,= he told himself. =Cool down, boy. Breathe deeply. That's it. You're making
it, Xandman.=

He could go back, enter the library, face them and tell them... tell them...
tell them what? That he was sorry? Sorry for what?

For God's sake, he just liked anchovies on his pizza!! =Is that a sin or
something now?=

With a sigh, Xander leaned on the nearest locker, pressing his forehead against
the metallic door, letting its cold surface soothe his burning skin.

So he had wanted anchovies on his pizza and had asked for them – was it his
fault that the guy at the takeout hadn't gotten the message right, and put
anchovies on all the pizzas? Hell, all they had to do was remove the damn fishes
and eat the rest of the meal!!

But no, they had to make jokes about it, make jokes about him. One or two he
could understand, wasn't he Sir Quips-A-Lot after all? But then they had grown
bolder, more personal.

And then she had said it, the words slipping from her lips so smoothly that he
hadn't understood their meaning until they had settled into his brain.
'Sometimes I think you can't do anything right...'

Cordelia Chase had said those words. Words that soon enough, she would regret
for the rest of her life.

Xander had been speechless for a second, before his slow-working brain was able
to conjure up the right response. And when it did, even he had been surprised by
it.

"Bitch."

It hadn't been the word itself, but the coldness and the venom his voice had
carried in the inflexion. There had been one second of absolute silence, in
which the flight of a fly would have been heard.

And then, all hell had broken loose.

The jokes had turned into insults, the strong words shouts of recrimination
until both of them had forgotten where they were, forgotten even the fact that
they weren't alone.

And it hadn't been one of their usual and childish verbal matches, where they
could make up with just a kiss and a make-out session in the nearest utility
closet.

No, this time it had been serious. For the first time, it had been personal,
they had wanted to hurt each other, and had aimed at their respective weakest
parts. They had gone for the heart, and they had drawn blood.

"Self-absorbed brat."

"Good-for-nothing loser."

"Slut."

"Bastard."

Xander felt the words, both hers and his, carved with fire onto his soul, still
burning him. Breaking him.

They say that passion is the most powerful fuel, that it can raise you up to
Heaven or take you down into Hell; that its fire can melt the coldest of hearts,
and burn the kindest of souls.

Well, if it was passion that was breaking his heart in two right then, Xander
Harris didn't want to know anything about it.

It hadn't been entirely her fault, of course. At least, not at the beginning.
She couldn't know the meaning that those exact words had for him, how they
constituted the knife that pierced his heart in a wound that couldn't heal.

She had no way to know that that precise sentence, 'you can't do anything
right', was the same one that his father used to let him know how much of a
disappointment he was. No good at school. No good at sports. No good at anything
at all.

She couldn't know, because he hadn't told her. He hadn't told anybody.

Xander felt the rage boiling inside of him once more, this time directed not
only at her, or his friends, nor even his parents. This time, as many other
times before, it was directed against himself. At his uselessness, at his
clumsiness, at his stupidity.

'Good-for-nothing loser'. Four words that defined him to a T.

This time, when his growing fury reached boiling point, Xander didn't control
it, he didn't even try. He just concentrated it in only one point and let it
discharge through his arms when he punched the locker's door with all his
strength.

It hurt, but it also felt damn good. So he punched it again, and again, and once
more until he finally felt his brain disconnecting from any kind of rational
thought as his fists fell one time after another on the door, folding the thin
metal and filling the empty hallway with the clanks of the hits.

He didn't even noticed he was crying, until after he slightly broke away from
the locker to repeatedly kick it until the door was hanging from only one of its
hinges. It was slowly rocking with a chirping sound, as he stepped back and felt
the sting of the tears burning his eyes, tracing wet paths down his cheeks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?!" a incredulous voice asked near him.

Xander's head jerked up in surprise, and found himself almost face to face with
the last person he wanted to see right then. Well, the last person after a short
list composed of his girlfriend, friends and parents. Oh, and that lady from the
cafeteria, the one with the weird bulging eyes and the greasy hair.

After all of them, Principal Snyder was the worst person to talk to when you
were in a state of deep emotional turmoil. Not to mention the fact, that he had
just been caught vandalizing school property.

The dark-haired boy passed a hand over his face, and sighed deeply. =Now you've
done it good, Xander,= he told himself, =the shit-o-meter's gone off the
scale...= "Principal Snyder..." he just acknowledged him.

The school principal just looked at him with his little troll eyes for a second,
before bringing a hand to his right ear as if he was trying to hear something.

Xander looked around, puzzled. "What...?"

"Quiet!" the shorter man ordered sharply. "Can't you hear it?"

Xander just raised an eyebrow, too tired to play the principal's little mind
games. "Hear what?"

"The sound of your academic career being flushed down the toilet, Harris,"
Snyder said with a harsh tone. "Now let's see," he began counting with his
fingers, "being on campus during non-academic hours..."

"I was just helping Mr. Gil-" Xander cut him off, fighting to find a suitable
excuse.

"Shut up, Harris!! I haven't finished yet." The principal continued his
recollection of Xander's sins. "Vandalizing school property, opening another's
student's locker, probably with the idea of stealing its contents..."

"I wasn't doing any such thing!!" Xander protested with indignation. He could be
a lot of things, but he wasn't a thief. Well, except that time when he had
robbed an anti-tank missile from an army depot, and stolen medical files from a
hospital... but that was different, there had been lives at stake.

"Well," Snyder continued unfazed, "that is what's going to figure in my report
about this little... affair. And that's all that'll matter in the end, don't you
think?"

He brought his face close to Xander's and, in spite of the difference of
heights, the dark-haired boy felt overwhelmed by the older man. "I'm tired of
you, Harris. Of all of you. You think you can walk these hallways as if they
were yours, go wherever you want, do whatever you please, don't you?"

Xander, maybe for the first time in his life, really listened to the man. And,
not with little surprise, he felt something lurking under his words and menacing
tone. There was madness there, and pure evil.

He felt his mouth go dry, and finally understood that Principal Snyder was
something more than an annoying little troll, because he was sincerely and
completely insane.

Because only a mad person could project the amount of hate he perceived right
then, coming from the older man.

"But that's over, you little shithead," he continued, not caring about the
expression on Xander's face. "I have a list, it's a short one with the names of
those whose time is almost over. And do you know whose name figures at the top
of it?"

Xander swallowed a knot that had formed in his throat and, as he had many times
before, tried to conceal his fear behind a layer of sarcastic humor. "Do I get
three guesses, or do I have to pick it right the first time?"

Snyder just ignored him. "It's your name, Harris. Yours, and that little blonde
whore you're always following around like a lapdo-"

Snyder didn't know where it came from and, if the truth be told, neither did
Xander. The only thing he could remember was the word 'whore' coming from the
little troll's mouth and, a millisecond later, Xander's fist was smashing into
his nose.

There was a sound of broken bones in the hallway.

"Oh, damn it!" Xander exclaimed, shaking his pained hand. Obviously, it hadn't
been a great idea punching the locker. Big surprise, his knuckles were ragged
and bloodied.

Snyder stumbled backwards with a priceless expression of surprise on his face,
and finally fell to the floor flat on his ass. They looked at each other for an
endless second.

Then Snyder brought his hand to his nose, and took a look at the blood that was
matting his fingers with astonishment. "You are expelled!!" he exploded.

A myriad number of thoughts passed through Xander's mind at that very moment, as
he looked incredulously at his own fist, the same one that had hit his high
school principal's nose barely moments ago.

=I won't graduate! What am I going to tell my parents? I'm expelled! Loser! No
graduation! What am I gonna do now? What am I going to tell Cordy? What are they
gonna think? What...?=

It was as if all the voices of the people who mattered to him, were speaking at
the same time. All of them reproaching him, for his stupidity. Cordelia's,
Willow's, Giles', Buffy's... =Stupid, stupid, stupid...=

But then, very slowly, a new voice made its way above them, until it could be
heard loud and clear.

It was his own voice.

=No,= it said, =don't listen to them. They're not the voices of your friends,
all of them are nothing more than the voices of your own insecurities.=

It was true, of course. Had he done something bad? Maybe a little excessive, but
that bastard had threatened his friends, and that was something he wasn't
inclined to tolerate.

=Well,= said the voice once more, =if you've come this far, why don't you go the
whole nine yards?=

Even before he knew what he was doing, Xander picked Snyder by the lapels of his
cheap suit and brought him to his feet, smashing his back against the line of
lockers.

The troll started, "What the hell do you think you're-?"

"Shut up!!" Xander exclaimed, surprising even himself with the strength of his
voice. "Now it's my turn, asshole." He saw the expression of surprise – and even
fear – in the principal's eyes, and allowed himself the pleasure of a long, evil
grin.

"Listen carefully, Snyder," he spat out the name as if it left a foul taste in
his mouth. "I don't care what you do to me, but if you ever dare to pull any of
this crap on any of my friends, like you did last summer with Buffy, I swear to
you that I'll... I'll..."

"You'll what?" Snyder felt some of his confidence coming back, at the apparent
indecision of the youngster. "Are you going to... threaten me with physical
harm?"

Xander looked hard at him. "Threats? Physical harm? No, I don't think so. I will
kill you, Snyder." He pushed the shorter man once more against the lockers. "And
I'm not speaking figuratively."

"You wouldn't dare..." The little troll didn't look too sure of his own words.

Xander just chuckled, almost maniacally. "Wouldn't I?" He loosened his grip on
the man's lapels, slowly smoothing the wrinkles on his jacket.

He continued, "I think you know what happens in this town, Principal Snyder.
There are homicides every night, accidents, missing persons... people get found
completely drained of blood, devoured corpses turn up on the school campus...
tell me, who would even miss a middle-aged high school principal like you? The
students? The police? Tsk, tsk..."

Xander shook his head slowly, before laying his hand flat on the man's chest and
pushing him one last time against the lockers. "Consider yourself warned," he
advised Snyder, before beginning to walk away from him to the exit of the high
school.

=God,= he thought to himself with a shiver, =I never thought that I'd have to do
an Angelus impersonation like that!=

"You're still expelled!" Snyder shouted at his back, trying to regain some of
his dignity.

"Look how much I care," Xander muttered between clenched teeth, opening the
double main doors of the school and walking into the cool air of the night.

~~~~~~

With his hands deeply hidden into the pockets of his jacket and with his
breathing leaving a soft cloud of steam in the chill February night behind him,
Xander wandered the streets of Sunnydale, without real destination or purpose.

=I've just been expelled,= his mind didn't cease repeating. =And to top it off,
I've also just threatened to kill the principal. Oh God, I'm in deep shit!=

Well, he had to admit though that for once, it had felt good to be the thug
instead of the victim, it had been almost fun. The expression on Snyder's face
when he had smashed him against the lockers... and yet, the fact that he had
been expelled still remained. =Great way to finish a great day, Xander!=

He grunted to no one in particular and kept on walking, not bothering to check
where his feet were taking him at all. What could he do?

Telling his parents was way out of the question. Even if they had cared, it
would only drive them to a fight and, quite frankly, he was tired of shouting.
He was plain tired, period.

He felt the need to talk to somebody, but who? It wasn't as if he had a lot of
friends, and the few he had were really busy trying to save the world without
his help, and so on.

=Cordelia?= As much as he wanted to call her, to ask excuses, to do anything she
wanted to get back in her good books again - assuming, of course, he had ever
truly been in them -, he knew it was too soon.

She would still be mad at him and frankly, with his own temper, they would only
end up fighting again.

No, he had to wait till the next morning at least; he'd let her, and himself,
sleep the anger off and then call her. Just a phone call. Something to hear her
voice.

Damn, he was already missing her.

When had that happened? When had Cordelia Chase, dreaded prosecutor of the ugly
and the unfashionable, turned into the single most important person of his life?
He couldn't tell.

He could only say that he had understood it the moment Drusilla and her vamps
had attacked them, while Willow was performing Angel's soul restoration ritual.
He had a broken arm, Giles was being taken away, Willow was under a fallen
bookcase, unconscious, maybe even worse... and the only thing he could think
about, was getting Cordelia the hell away from there.

It wasn't realistic to expect a long-term relationship with her. They were too
different, too opposed on too many things and their characters were too volatile
when they were together. Yeah, they had passion, but was that enough?

The only thing he was sure of was that his life would be very, very sad and gray
without her by his side.

=Giles?= No, he didn't want to see the same expression of disappointment on his
face that was on his father's every time he looked at him. For some reason, he
felt that it would hurt more seeing it on the British Watcher's face.

=Willow?= No, there was still a strange air between them since the Homecoming
Dance, as if there were something left unspoken.

Of course, he knew what it was – the almost-kiss they had shared, the moment,
the... for lack of a better word, the thing.

Once more, Xander closed his eyes and grunted. It was as if he... he bit his
tongue so he wouldn't voice his thoughts, only to discover that his brain didn't
need it to complete them... couldn't do anything right.

Maybe it was true, after all. He had been there, impeccably dressed in his tux,
and Willow had been there too, so beautiful with her dress that he had been
almost breathless. They had talked, they had laughed, they had danced, there had
been that unmistakable spark of chemistry, and then...

Then he had stopped, when there was nothing more than a few millimeters of hot
breath between their mouths.

The thought, unbidden, almost unwelcome in his brain, had pierced through thick
layers of hormone-filled sensations and hit him on the head like a hammer. =How
would you feel if it was the other way around?=

Time stopped and, like in those old cartoons he used to watch on TV, he'd seen
little XanderAngel and XanderDevil on each of his shoulders, talking to him.

"Go for it, man," XanderDevil had urged him, playing with his red pitchfork.
"Look at her, she's gorgeous and she wants it. You know she does. And so what if
you kiss her? You said it once yourself, didn't you? It's just a kiss, it
doesn't mean all that much."

XanderAngel had shaken his head though, his halo dancing over his head. "How'd
you feel if it was the other way around?" he had insisted. "How'd you feel if
you discovered Cordelia kissing Oz?"

At this point, both Xander and XanderDevil had looked at him, raising the same
eyebrow. XanderAngel had just shrugged his winged shoulders. "OK, bad example.
But what about one of those jocks from the football team? You know the type,
with all those bulging muscles, their broad shoulders and their..."

XanderDevil had looked at him with quizzical eyes. "What?" XanderAngel had
asked.

The little devil had then shaken his head in resignation. "I knew that all those
years wearing those white robes wouldn't do anything good for your sexual
tendencies."

XanderAngel had then simply looked at Xander. "The thing is, Xander... if you're
really gonna take this step, you should first figure your own feelings."

And with that, both representations of his subconscious self had vanished in
twin puffs of smoke. He had come back to the present to find an expectant Willow
waiting for him, with a look of fear in her wide sea-green eyes, and he had
understood that she was experiencing the same inner turmoil as himself.

They both had people in their lives that had come unexpectedly and, in Xander's
case, a little unwelcome, but who they cared for a lot. But they had a story in
common, and a friendship that couldn't be ignored. They connected, and most
people would say that they were meant for each other.

So, what were they going to do about it?

In the end, there hadn't been any real choice possible.

"I love you, Willow," he had said, interlacing his fingers with hers and taking
a step back, not able to hold her stare.

"But you're not in love with me," she had completed, taking her eyes from him.
He had shaken his head. "You're in love with Cordelia."

What had been expected as an accusation had come in a tender, knowing voice, and
he hadn't been able to do anything more than stare back at her for a long
moment. "You're not mad at me?" he had finally asked in a childish voice.

"No," she had answered, shaking her head, but letting a few tears run down her
cheeks nevertheless. "For the first time I've understood how much I love Oz,
and... how much I'm over you."

He had grimaced in pain, and she had chuckled. "I figure we both needed some
kind of closure for what we never had."

He had nodded and then hugged her tightly, softly kissing her on the forehead.
"I'll go now," he had said, breaking apart from her. "I'll try to find Cordy
and..." He had shrugged helplessly.

But she had then smiled. "Will you talk to her about...?"

"About what?" he had shaken his head. "Nothing happened."

Willow had sighed, and looked as his figure retreated away. "Right. Nothing
happened."

But something had happened, and both of them knew it. In a second, both of them
had managed to do what the Hellmouth hadn't been able to do in almost three
years. They had grown up. Matured.

Back to the present, Xander kicked a can and sent it spinning in the street,
sighing deeply. His thoughts drifted far away once more, this time towards
Cordelia.

Cordelia.

Flawless tan skin, perfect smile, bright hazel eyes, lustful lips, endless
legs... Xander sighed once more, feeling his ears burn as a certain part of his
anatomy came to life.

He shook his head, trying to cool off a little, only to finally notice where he
really was. Cypresses, weeping willows and hundreds of tombstones around him. He
was in a cemetery, in front of a grave. And not just in any cemetery, not in
front of just any tomb.

He knelt down by the headstone, and let his fingers trace the nooks and contours
of the name carved on the cold surface of the stone.

Beloved Son
Jesse Aaron Richards
1981-1996

Xander sighed and sat cross-legged in front of the grave, slowly removing the
fallen leaves and all the impurities that covered his childhood friend's final
resting place. He remembered the day of the funeral, when Jesse's parents had
decided to abandon all hope of ever finding their son and buried an empty
casket, just so they could move on.

He had been standing there, unable to do or say anything at all but just wanting
to shout to them all that his friend was dead, that he had killed him. That he
had stabbed him in the chest with a stake, because he had been turned into a
vampire. And that he would give his life if that would bring him back.

"It's been a long time, pal," Xander said, knowing that there was no body under
the stone, but finding it a good a place as any to talk with his departed
friend. "But I've been busy, fighting the forces of darkness and y'know, doing
that heroic thing about being one of the good guys."

He bit his lower lip, and closed his eyes tight. "I don't know how to say this,
but I heard it hurts less if you take off the Band-Aid with a yank, so I'll be
blunt: I'm dating Cordelia."

The teen sighed once more, and raised his dark eyes to the equally dark skies.
"I know, I know... I, Alexander Lavelle Harris, King of Cretins, Treasurer of
the 'We Hate Cordelia' club and Master of Lameness, am dating Cordelia Elizabeth
Chase, Ice Maiden, Head Cheerleader and Queen Bitch of Sunnydale High."

He snorted, shaking his head in amazement. "Surprised? Yeah, can't blame ya.
Well, my friend, it gets worse: I'm in love with her." The high school senior
nodded sheepishly. "Truly, madly and deeply in love with her. It's funny if you
think about all those times I pestered you about it, 'cause you were...
infatuated with her."

Xander breathed in his hands, and rubbed them together. It was beginning to get
really cold out there. "Y'know, I figure that you were able to see the real her
before any of us could, or something. And no, before you ask, I haven't come
here to rub it in your face – it's just that... I need help. I need help 'cause
I think I've screwed it up, man. Like, I've messed up big time."

Xander stood up and stretched, loosening the knots in his tired body. "I know I
should learn to be more patient with her, not to take everything she does or
says as something personal. That we both have some rough edges that we gotta
smooth over before we fit together... perfectly," he explained, interweaving the
fingers of his two hands together as if demonstrating, then he looked at the
headstone with a lopsided grin.

"And don't look at me like that, Jesse. I'm not talking about that, we haven't
gone that far... yet."

"That's a shame," a feminine voice said behind him, making him turn around with
wide-open eyes. "It's such a waste to have a body like yours, and not take
advantage of it... I don't understand what the heck Cordelia is thinking."

Xander felt his mouth going dry, and his heart beating faster inside his chest.
He had recognized the voice the moment it had begun to speak, and he knew it
could only mean trouble.

"Faith," he said with a quivering voice, as the former vampire Slayer came out
of the shadows and into the soft circle of light provided by the moon.
Automatically, his hands reached for the cross and the stake hidden inside the
pockets of his jacket, feeling slightly reassured when he felt the rough contact
of the wood against his skin.

"Where've you been? We've spent the last few days searching for you. Buffy was
worried..."

"Buffy is always sooo worried..." Faith didn't look straight at him as she began
to walk between the headstones, letting her fingers dance over their cold
surfaces as if they were some kind of resting animals that she was petting.
"That girl needs to loosen up a little, don't you think?"

She finally raised her eyes to his, and Xander swallowed with difficulty the
knot that had formed in his throat. He was beginning to be chilled to the bone,
and not precisely because of the cold night air.

When he understood that, bit by bit, she was closing the distance that separated
them, Xander gripped the cross inside his pocket, seriously tempted to take it
out.

"And that boyfriend of hers, tsk, tsk..." she shook her head. "Do you know what
dating a corpse does for a girl's social life?"

"Faith, I know you're confused," he managed to splutter, "and probably angry,
but..."

Her head jerked up, and Xander found much to his dismay that the only thing that
separated him from her spandex-clad body was barely a meter of thin air. "Do you
know? Do you really know?"

Xander licked his lips nervously. "I figure I don't."

She shook her head, making her brown locks swirl. "Yeah, you don't." She
extended her hand towards Xander's face, and caressed his brow and the line of
his cheeks with her fingertips.

The dark-haired boy had to make an effort not to shiver under her cold touch.
"But you should, Xander. Out of all of them you're the closest to me, the only
one that can understand me."

Xander took a step back, distancing himself from her and waving a hand between
them. "Uh, let's just keep a safe distance, OK? It's always a good idea when
you're talking... or driving... or whatever."

Faith shook her head, disappointed. "Xander, don't try the sarcasm on me,
please. We both know it's nothing more than a defense mechanism." She took a
step towards him, and Xander quickly put Jesse's headstone between them as a
makeshift barrier.

"Faith," he tried to reason with her, beginning to feel really scared, "you need
help, and we can give it to you. We're your friends, I'm your friend."

"I know you are, Xander," she smiled, and her face beamed in the darkness of the
night. "That's why I've come to you."

Xander seriously wished he could kick his own butt, the moment Faith's face
initiated its transformation and jumped at him over the headstone with a roar
coming from her lips.

The dark-haired boy struggled to take the cross out of his pocket, but it was
entangled in the fabric and he wasn't able to take it completely out before
Faith landed on his chest. She made him fall under the weight of her body, and
the crucifix slipped away from his grasp.

Xander let out a grunt of pain as he felt Faith's knees pressing down his chest,
with the whole force of her vampiric strength, choking the air out of his lungs.
The vampire Slayer, now a vampire, grabbed his wrists and kept them pinned
against the ground. Xander struggled in her grasp, trying to get himself free
but to no avail.

"Faith!" he grunted, when her legs slipped from his chest to straddle his torso.
At any other moment, he would have even felt a non-small amount of excitement.
"What are ya doing?!"

"I thought it was pretty obvious." The vampiress tilted her head to one side and
smiled, her game face full of pointed fangs. "I'm going to offer you a gift you
won't be able to reject."

Xander clenched his teeth, swallowing a shout of pain when her razor-sharp claws
dug in the tender flesh of her wrists.

"Newsflash, sweetheart," he sputtered, resolved not to show her how scared he
really was. "I was already offered that gift once, and I rejected it."

Faith freed his left hand, and Xander lost no time in searching for his cross.
"This time, you won't have that chance."

Xander's hand closed around the wooden cross, but before he could even think of
raising it to her face, her fist fell, punching him hard right on the jaw.

"This time," he heard while everything went blank around him, "you'll beg for
it."

~~~~~~

There are different kinds of darkness. There's the one when you're comfortably
lying in your warm bed, during those pleasant moments when you feel your body
about to peacefully enter into slumber.

And then there's the kind when you're walking on a lonely street at night,
accompanied only by the sound of your shoes on the wet asphalt; the feeling of a
thousand strange eyes on you, following each one of your steps.

They're just not the same.

Ever since he had met Buffy Summers, Xander had learnt to distinguish them, to
know when the darkness was alive, creeping towards you over every surface,
awaiting for the moment to jump over you and take you into its deadly embrace.

As he slipped back into consciousness that night, he knew that the darkness
surrounding him was one of those.

That, once more, he was in deep trouble.

The teen shook his head to clear his foggy brain, and as his nostrils filled
with the pungent smell of the salty seawater, he didn't need a big leap of faith
to deduce that Faith had taken him to somewhere near the docks.

=Somewhere dark and wet,= he observed, taking a slow look around himself. He
couldn't see very much anyway, his visual range was reduced to the weak circle
of light provided by a small bulb hanging naked from its electric cord, that
bathed the few items inside its sphere of action in a soft yellow glow.

If he closed his eyes and concentrated a little, he could felt some kind of
rocking movement as if he was being lured to sleep, and the soft sounds of the
seawater bathing a metallic skull.

=A ship,= Xander thought, opening his eyes again. He was in the cargo bay of a
ship.

There were boxes, the kind used for packing, marked with foreign letters on
their wooden surfaces that his untrained eyes couldn't decipher, even though
they looked sort of Russian to him.

There was a little table, fragile in its general appearance and with its surface
covered by a dirty blanket that could have been white once, but now it looked
more like the color of an orange once you've forgotten it for a month in a
corner of your kitchen.

And, of course, there was Faith.

She was between him and the table, her back to him and her hands leaning on the
dirty blanket. She was still, almost as immobile as a statue. Xander wished he
could look at her face, have some clue of what she intended to do; but she
remained quiet, seemingly ignorant of his current state of consciousness.

Xander took advantage of Faith's unawareness to check himself out. That was when
the bad news began.

He was on his feet, tied to an X-shaped wooden cross with what seemed like tight
metallic wires around his wrists and ankles. He checked his bonds, only to find
that they had been conscientiously knotted; any effort on his part to get them
off, would only make them dig deeper into his flesh.

Xander stifled a curse between his clenched teeth and licked his lips, grimacing
when his tongue passed over a deep cut on his lower one, where the former
vampire Slayer had punched him.

It felt swollen, and he figured that it was probably a nice shade of purple by
now; but, after carefully working his jaw with a rotating motion, he was
appeased by the fact that there were no broken bones, although one of his
premolars seemed a little loose.

=Great, now I'll have to go to the dentist.= He had to make an effort not to
snort.

And to top it all off, he was practically naked. His jacket, sweater, undershirt
and khaki pants had vanished, probably gone to the same place as his shoes and
socks, leaving him only clad in his plain white boxers.

=Well,= Xander thought thankfully, =at least I wasn't wearing my 'Happy
Valentines' shorts.=

He frowned, trying to think of a way to escape from this situation with his skin
intact. He would also like to keep the little dignity he had left – but, all in
all, he preferred his skin over his dignity any day.

=What would Buffy do in my place?= She would probably insult her enemy, making
him so mad that he would spend an unnecessarily long time explaining his evil
plans, giving her both time to struggle with her bonds and the Slayerettes to
find her.

And then, at the last possible moment, the Scooby Gang would burst into the
place as she used her supernatural strength to break her bonds. Then, she would
proceed to beat the bad guy to a bloody pulp.

Yeah, that was a good plan. Only, he wasn't the Slayer, and his friends would
probably have no idea that he had even been kidnapped.

He made an effort to think with clarity. He had been taken on Friday night, and
nobody would notice his absence until Saturday evening at least, later if they
thought that he wanted to be alone after the fight with Cordelia.

In other words: he was completely on his own.

And he hadn't very many options, either. The only thing he could do was buy
time, until somebody figured he had been taken and came to his rescue.

Xander tried to gulp down a knot of fear that had formed somewhere inside his
throat, but not succeeding in making it vanish. Well, if Faith kept ignoring him
maybe he could...

"I know you're awake, Xander," she said without turning around. "I can feel the
difference in your breathing and heartbeat, from when you're asleep."

...do nothing at all. He threw a sarcastic look towards the dark ceiling. =Thank
you, God, for these small favors.=

The former vampire Slayer turned around to look at him, leaning her shapely ass
on the fragile table and crossing her arms over her generous cleavage. At any
other time, in any other place, Xander wouldn't have been able to avoid looking
at her with what would be undoubtedly considered as 'deep male appreciation'.

After all, he'd always had a soft spot for Slayers dressed in practically
non-existent and skin-tight spandex. And more if they had a body like that, with
those long, smooth legs, those luscious curves in all the right places, and that
face – perfect mix of angel and devil, those lips that seemed to say...

=That's fine, loser,= Cordelia's voice said inside his head, =you're getting
aroused in front of your executioner.= Xander rolled his eyes, there was no cure
for him.

"What do you want, Faith?" he finally asked, finding his voice ragged and tired
but not as scared as he had feared. That was good, vampires were predators; they
could smell the fear in their prey.

Faith strolled to him with an elegant gait, succeeding in capturing his eyes
with the seductive shake of her hips. "It's not what I want, Xander. It's what I
can offer you."

Xander raised his eyebrows. "A discount in Vamps 'R Us?"

Faith chuckled, getting close enough to lay an arm on each side of his head and
nuzzle his neck with her nose. She kissed him tenderly on the soft skin over his
carotid, and Xander closed his eyes at the cold contact of her lips.

Then he felt her bare leg slowly caressing one of his inner thighs, going up and
up, until her knee gently made contact with his crotch and he swallowed noisily.
Faith giggled, hearing him.

"Why, Xander," Faith commented, not stopping her ministrations, "I do believe
that you're getting... happy to see me."

Xander swallowed once more, and avoided the gaze of her dark eyes. He was
getting really hard, true, but who could blame him? Then he frowned and looked
down at Faith, his dark eyes suddenly cold and harsh.

"What do you expect me to do?" he asked, his voice so cold and hard that he
surprised even himself. "Some of us are still human, after all."

The smile vanished from Faith's lips as if it had never existed, replaced by a
harsh grimace and a look of almost loathing. She took a step back and let her
human mask vanish, her beautiful face turning into her demonic visage.

"You have to spoil everything," she said, almost with an incredulous tone.

=Nice going, Xander,= he reproached himself, =make a vampire who has you tied up
and at her mercy mad. Woo-hoo, way to go...= Xander ignored his inner voice,
concentrating just on Faith.

"Well, excuse me if I don't find any fun in being punched, kidnapped and tied up
by a vampire," he practically spat, his voice full of sarcasm.

He then tried to become serene and cool down, knowing that he had the lesser
cards if the former vampire Slayer lost the little control she still had. "Do
you want to talk, Faith? Do you want something from me? Fine, untie me and we'll
talk."

She shook her head, bringing her closed fists to her temples as if in pain. She
looked to be on the verge of insanity, and Xander couldn't help but feel
compassion and pity for her. What had happened to her wasn't her fault, after
all.

"No," the former Slayer said without looking at him. "If I free you, you'll
leave me, like everybody does."

Xander sighed and shook his head, speaking with heart-felt sincerity. "I won't
leave you, Faith, I promise. I'm your friend."

"You... are... not... my... friend!!!" she roared, suddenly jumping over to him
and grasping his throat in an iron-like grip. "I have no friends! I have
nobody!"

Xander felt his windpipe crushed under the mighty pressure of Faith's vampire
hands and almost choked on his own saliva as, suddenly, breathing become an
impossible task.

He tried to struggle out of her strangling grip, but it was like fighting a
bear. Soon, his lungs began to burn, aching for fresh air as his eyes rolled up
inside their sockets, a dark blanket covering him.

"Faith..." he managed to gurgle, practically at the edge of unconsciousness.
"you're... killing me..."

The former vampire Slayer suddenly released him, breaking away from him. Xander
fell forward, his whole weight leaning on his bound wrists, the wire cutting
deeply into his flesh.

Ignoring that pain, Xander could only choke and cough as his lungs greedily
filled with the needed oxygen, his head hanging limp between his shoulders.

"I have no friends, I have nobody, I have no friends, I have nobody..." Faith
kept repeating again and again like a mantra, her voice muffled by her hands
hiding her once- more human face.

"You know that's not true," Xander managed to say, in spite of his aching
throat. "I'm your friend," he insisted, "Buffy's your friend..."

"Shut up!!" she exclaimed, tears of blood now freely rolling over her cheeks.
She slapped him hard, drawing three bloody lines on his left cheek with her long
nails and making his head jerk. "You made me this!! I'm this because of you!!"

Xander shook his head, both to deny her declaration and to clear his mind. Maybe
there was still hope, if he could make her see reason. "No, Faith, you did that
to yourself. Don't you remember? We tried to convince you not to go up against
Trick on your own, to wait for..."

She shook her head as she kept on pacing left and right in front of him,
covering her ears to not hear him.

"Why didn't you wait for us, Faith? Why did you have to go and sacrifice
yourself like that?" he continued.

Faith stopped dead in her tracks. She kept her back to him, and didn't turn
around when she answered. "I wanted to protect you, I didn't want any of you to
be harmed."

She finally turned around, looking at him with her dark eyes full of scarlet
tears, and the dark-haired boy closed his eyes, feeling his heart full of
sincere sadness. "I'm sorry, Faith. I'm sorry it took us so long to find you.
And I'm sorry that we were too late."

She shook her head slowly, drying her tears with the back of her hand.

"Untie me, Faith," Xander insisted gently, "we can still make this right. We can
help you."

This time, the former vampire Slayer just snorted. "What? How? Can you find a
cure for this?"

The boy shook his head, seeing her beginning to walk back to him. The wounds on
his cheeks, wrists and ankles were beginning to burn like hell, and he felt his
own blood slipping to the corner of his mouth. "The same way we restored your
soul, we can... help you to have a normal life."

Faith, close enough to him for Xander to smell her perfume, rolled her dark
eyes, letting out a sarcastic chuckle. "My soul?" she snorted. "Yeah, my
soul..."

She settled her eyes on Xander's, and he felt an unwilling shiver go down his
spine. She had cold, dead eyes, like the ones of a rag doll. "I wish you had
never done that."

"Faith," he tried to regain the moment of connection they'd had barely moments
before, "I know you blame yourself for what happened after you were turned, but
it wasn't your fault, we all know that. It was the demon inside you who killed
all those people..."

Faith's hand emerged from nowhere, grabbing him by the jaw and making him close
his mouth almost over his own tongue.

"You know?" She looked almost on the brink of maniacal laughter. "You don't know
shit, Xander – I don't give a damn about that. All those people, they can rot in
Hell for all I care."

Xander's eyes opened like saucers. "But I thought..."

"You thought? You thought?!?" With each passing moment, Faith looked more and
more angry, so much in fact that her fangs were beginning to appear under her
upper lip and her eyes had turned red-gold.

She grabbed him by the hair at the back of his head, painfully yanking it to
make him look straight into her eyes. "Do you want to know what those few days
after I was turned meant for me? Do you really want to know?"

Faith yanked once more at his hair, making him grunt in pain. "It was the only
time in my life when I've been truly free, Xander. Truly happy. No worries, no
responsibilities, and all that... freedom. To go where I wanted, to do what I
wanted."

"It wasn't you," Xander insisted between clenched teeth. "It wasn't really you."

"But nooo," she continued, ignoring him. "You had to play the Brady Bunch, you
had to give me this... thing back," she said, almost with loathing. "Buffy and
her bunch of saints. You couldn't leave me in peace, no, you had to make me feel
like a worthless piece of scum again. Poor little Faith who has nobody, who's
always in need of help..."

"Faith..." Her look, hard and merciless, made him shut up.

"The time for talking is over, Xander. It's time to act." She released his hair
and walked back to the little table, taking the dirty sheet to uncover it with a
flowery movement.

The surface of the table looked like the parody of a surgeon's tray of
instruments, and Xander choked down a gasp of dread when he saw the blades, the
hammers and the corkscrews.

They looked rusty and not very sharp but, for some reason, their hygienic
condition wasn't the first priority in his mind.

"Being a vampire is great, Xander. Well," Faith commented almost
matter-of-factly, as she slowly examined the items on the table, making a show
out of it. "Sure it has its downside, like never getting a good tan again or not
being able to eat a good Italian dish with all that garlic – but, all in all, I
think you're gonna love it."

She took something from the table, something he couldn't see and that she kept
hidden behind her back when she walked back to him, still rocking her hips like
a cat.

Only this time, she looked more like a cheap slut to him. "Why?" the human
teenager simply asked.

Faith shrugged. "I need somebody to share the fun with. And it would be sooo
nice if you asked me to do it."

Xander shook his head, and managed to let out a dry laugh. "Well, that's so not
gonna happen."

The former vampire Slayer laughed with merriment. "You say that now, Xander. But
we'll see in a couple of hours. Tomorrow morning, tops."

The dark-haired boy swallowed with difficulty, feeling his knees going quickly
weak. "What are you gonna do?" he asked with a fearful voice.

"Oh, well, you could say that I've been studying the classics." Faith just
raised her hand, showing him what she held there. A railroad spike. "And I've
learnt from the best."

Xander's eyes opened wide, and he couldn't do anything but to stare as she began
kissing him on his bare left shoulder while she caressed his chest and pecs, her
cold fingertips tracing idle circles around his nipples.

"Kiss me," she practically moaned, bringing her lips to his.

When he tried to move away she just grabbed him once again by his hair and
plunged her mouth onto his, her cold tongue fiercely assaulting the warm
interior of his mouth like a snake.

"Don't say you don't like it," Faith whispered when she finally broke apart,
nuzzling his evident erection with her free hand.

Xander couldn't remember ever feeling as dirty as he did right then. And the
worst part was the fact he couldn't hide his arousal, even when it was only a
response to hormones from the female vampire's ministrations.

It made him feel as if he was cheating on Cordelia. As if he wasn't anything
more than an animal, subject to his most primal impulses.

So, he did the only thing he could imagine to demonstrate to Faith what he
really thought of her right then. He turned and spat into her face.

Faith looked shocked for a second, before her mouth parted again into a big
smile. Without bothering to remove his saliva from her face, the former vampire
Slayer yanked again at his hair, making him turn his head and licked his bloody
cheek slowly and lustfully.

"Hmmm," she moaned, looking at him with amazed eyes and smacking her tongue as
if she had just tasted a gourmet deli. "What a surprise, Xander. Has anybody
ever told you that you have tasty blood? It's as if I've got a party going on
inside my mouth, and everybody's attending."

Xander looked at her long and hard, feeling nauseous. "If you're going to do
something, do it now before I fall asleep."

"Always the tough guy, huh?" Faith began to caress the sides of his torso with
feather-like touches. "I like that..." she sank her nails into the flesh under
his ribs, drawing blood and making him grunt in pain, "...to a point."

She kissed him on the shoulder once more, trailing the whole length of his
muscled arm with tiny, almost butterfly-like kisses and Xander felt his resolve
melting, when he began to figure out what she intended.

"Faith, please..." he hated the weakness in his voice and his begging tone, but
at that very moment he'd have done almost anything to get the hell away from
her. "Don't do it, Faith. We can still fix this. We can..."

"Sshh," she hushed him, nuzzling the palm of his hand with her face, the rosy
point of her tongue barely darting to taste the blood that flowed where the wire
had cut Xander's skin.

When she opened her eyes, they had turned red-gold once more. "Close your eyes,
sweetheart. I've been told it hurts less if you don't look at it."

Xander felt the panic invading his whole being, as a wave of fear engulfed him.
He began to breathe so fast, his brain felt numb with the menace of
hyperventilation. "Faith, no, please, don't do it, Faith, no, no, noooooo!!!"

But she was deaf to any of his pleas as the vampiress raised the spike and, with
a last look as Xander's panicked face, plunged it down on his open hand, its
metallic point breaking through thin tissue and hard bone.

It opened a wound that began to bleed immediately, with a cloud of thin red rain
that fell onto Faith's face, marking her marble skin.

Resolved not to allow her the pleasure of hearing him scream, Xander bit his
lower lip so strongly that his teeth broke his skin, drawing blood.

"Bitch!!" he shouted when the pain became finally unbearable.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Faith told him, with the same tone that a
mother would use to explain to her child why she was punishing him for his own
good. "You only have to say the words, Xander."

"Go to Hell, you bloodsucking whore!!"

Faith shook her head, disappointed. "Not those ones."

The second spike fell on Xander's right hand, ripping his skin, shattering his
bones and nailing it to the X-shaped cross as firmly as his left one.

This time, Xander screamed at the top of his lungs.

~~~~~~

No matter how bad he'd thought the torture would be, it was soon obvious that
Faith was going to surpass his expectations. There was no smart nimble chat, no
lamplight directly focused into his eyes, no 'death of one thousand cuts', no
'Bolivian telephone' and, of course, no refinement at all.

That night, for Xander Harris, there was only endless pain.

When Faith crucified him, nailing his hands and ankles to the wooden cross with
railroad spikes, the boy couldn't do anything more than scream and insult her.

When the former Slayer used a heavy sledgehammer to crush his elbows and knees,
he cried like a child.

When the turn of the edged weapons came, Xander let himself slip into the
glorious realm of darkness.

And all the time, the only thing Faith asked was for him to say the words. To
accept her as his sire.

And, with equal stubbornness, the only thing she got was a no on his part.

Xander never knew from where he got the strength to do it. Maybe it was from his
natural stubbornness, or perhaps from the almost fanatical belief that his
friends would at last come to his rescue.

Maybe it was that, just for once, he was resolved not to let his will be broken.

All his life the teen had been the weak one, the target of all the school jocks,
the class clown. Always the fearful and never the feared one, the source of the
jokes, the guy in the corner of the room, the one that was considered
dispensable.

But not this time.

He knew, as surely as there was a God in Heaven that was not paying attention to
him or his pleas, that there wasn't anything he could do to prevent Faith from
turning him into a soulless bloodsucker if she wanted to.

But when the pain became so strong that it was unbearable, Xander figured numbly
that if he could just get her mad enough, she would simply kill him and forget
about the rest of her plan.

God knew that death would be better than his current state of existence.

At first, when the pain had still been humanly bearable, he had tried to resort
to that old game he used to play with Willow and Buffy – 'anywhere but here'.
Just to make his mind fly away from the hell into which the present had turned
into...

The first destination in his voyage to oblivion had been the utility closet,
with Cordelia. He had let his mind roam without restrictions, remembering the
softness of her flawless skin under his fingertips, the warmth of her mouth on
his, the silkiness of her raven hair sliding between his fingers.

How her hazel eyes clouded with a passion she had never known before when they
were alone, when they managed to forget the lives they had outside that little
room that was only theirs.

When the only thing that remained were two young would-be lovers, lost in a
whirlwind of physical sensation.

How soft her neck was under his lips, the feeling of her pulse, the way she
whimpered when he touched her in all the right places. How powerful, how loved
he felt when he understood that she made that sound for him, because of him...

=And I never told her I love her,= Xander thought, feeling the bitter taste of
his bile in his already-sore throat. Whether it was because the idea of dying
without telling Cordelia his real feelings made him want to puke, or because
Faith had just punched him in the liver, he didn't know.

From there his mind flew to a thousand different places and times; watching the
Snoopy Christmas Special with Willow. Doing the Snoopy dance in his footies just
to make her smile. Watching hideous Indian films in Buffy's bedroom with his two
best friends. Forgetting all the horrible things that went bump in the night.
Dancing like mad in the Bronze...

Hearing Oz practicing on his guitar, strolling down the cemetery on patrol with
Buffy, feeling important because she was his friend and he helped her, staying
until late in the library doing research and feeling his chest fill with pride
when he gained some words of approval from Giles...

Any place, any time but the present...

Curiously enough, the last place he visited before he was brutally brought back
to Faith and the cargo bay was one he'd almost forgotten, long ago. Pre-school
and daycare, when he was just a five-year-old kid and everything seemed new and
wonderful.

When every day was an adventure, and living was reduced to just discovering what
was behind the next corner over there.

Before the cheerleaders turned into cheerleaders, the jocks into jocks, the
nerds into nerds and the clowns into clowns. He remembered that time, playing in
the sandbox with his friends... Jesse, Willow, Cordelia...

"We're the four musketeers!" Little Willow had exclaimed.

"The musketeers were three, silly," he had answered, sticking his tongue out at
her.

"No, Daddy told me," she'd insisted, counting with her fingers. "Athos, Porthos,
Aramis and... and... Dalmatian!"

Little Cordelia had looked offended. "I'm no mooseteer. I'm a princess!!"

Little Jesse had just stared at her in adoration. "Can I be your prince?"

"Why?" she'd asked, looking at him quizzically and playing with the pink lace
ribbon that tied back her long mane of hair.

Jesse had then smiled shyly. "Because that way, we could get married."

He'd practically burst into laughter, rolling over in the sand. "Jesse and
Cordelia sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."

"Shut up, Xander!!" an offended Cordelia had shouted. "And I won't marry a
prince, never, ever, ever... princes are silly."

"Yeah," Willow had then agreed. "They don't know how to do anything, but wear
breeches and go on hunts."

Jesse had looked confused, and a little sad. "Then who are you gonna get married
to?"

Cordelia had subsequently smiled brightly. "I will marry a brave knight," she'd
stated. "A brave, handsome and valiant white knight, in shining armor. He will
rescue me and kill the dragon and..."

"I'd prefer to be the dragon," his younger self had interrupted her, getting up.
"But I wouldn't eat you, 'cause I'm sure you'd taste awful, like peas."

Cordelia had looked to be on the brink of tears. "You're a mean boy, and I hate
you!"

"No, I hate you!" He'd stuck his tongue out at her and the girl just pushed him,
making him fall flat on his ass in the sand. Unfortunately, he'd started crying.

"Xander is a girly," Cordelia had chanted, dancing around him. "Xander is a
girly!"

Faith's ragged voice brought him back to the here and now, ripping him away from
the comfortable world of the past.

"What are you smiling at?" She sounded furious, but Xander couldn't figure why,
not even to save his own life.

She grabbed his jaw and made him look straight at her red-gold eyes, her claws
painfully digging into his bleeding cheeks. "What do you find so funny?!"

Xander looked at her through his only-working eye, as the right side of his face
was so swollen that the eyelid was completely shut. When he spoke, his voice
came out like the murmur of wind through a rusty pipe.

Weak, ragged and haunted. "You..."

"What?" she frowned.

Xander managed to snort, even when it caused him to cringe in pain. "You're...
funny... make me... laugh..."

The former vampire Slayer's golden eyes seemed to burn with pure hatred. "Why
don't you understand it, Xander? What do you need to understand it?"

Xander shook his head weakly, recovering his voice. "Understand... what? Faith,
don't have... time... energy... anything at all... to get your...
psychobabble..."

He coughed and tasted his own blood on his lips; nevertheless, he managed to
offer her an almost-decent fake crooked smile. "Why don't you go back to the
pain part? It's beginning to excite me..."

Faith detached herself from him, her hands on her hips and shaking her head as
if in confusion. "What are you expecting, Xander? Do you expect for them to find
you? Are you expecting for God-almighty-Buffy to come to your rescue?"

She kneeled beside him, so she could look straight into his eyes without having
to lift his hanging head. "You don't get it, do you? Nobody is gonna come, they
don't care enough about you to go to all that effort of finding you..."

The dark-haired boy just looked at her, but said nothing. He was beginning to be
cold, in spite of the burning sensation of all his wounds. Blood loss. It was
getting so cold in there...

"Why can't you see it as clearly as I can, Xander? We're the same, we have
nobody, no real friends, no real family..."

"I have friends," he managed to blurt out, with a thick note of stubbornness in
his voice.

Faith sighed and took his head between her hands, softly caressing his hair in
an almost ridiculous gesture. "They're not really your friends, Xander. They
can't be. None of them understand how is to be alone, how it is not to have
anyone to hold you when you think that the world is coming to an end. They don't
know how is to be in the middle of a crowd, and still be completely alone.
Accept me, Xander."

She smiled at him so sweetly, it was heartbreaking. "I'll take care of you...
we'll take care of each other..."

Xander opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water. Then he closed his
eye that worked. "I already have... a girlfriend."

The former vampire Slayer dropped his head. "That bitch? What do you see in her?
What does she have that I couldn't give you?"

Good question indeed. What did Cordelia Chase have that had turned his world
upside down for the last twelve months? Was it the way she ridiculed him in
front of his friends? The way she always managed to make him look like a lame
idiot?

Or was it the way she looked at him sometimes, as if she knew something that
nobody else did? That 'I know who you really are' look. That 'I know that only
you know the real me' look.

He chuckled. No, it was the way that, in the end, she always accepted him as he
was, without asking more or less than what he could give her. Like that time
when she had stayed with him, while he guarded Buffy's ill back.

Getting him donuts and black coffee, her odd way of saying 'I accept you'.

And, he couldn't fool himself on this, it was the way she made him feel alive.

When they made out. When they laughed. Even, God help him, when they were
fighting. He needed Buffy and Willow to keep on functioning, but Cordelia made
life worth living.

"She makes my life... spicy," he confessed.

Faith snorted. "Maybe I should bring her here, and check how spicy she really
is."

Xander felt something breaking inside him at hearing her threat. "Faith..." he
called her, barely in a whisper, "...c'mere. Got something... to tell ya."

Raising a quizzical eyebrow, the former vampire Slayer walked back to him,
leaning down beside him to hear him better.

When she was near enough, Xander just gathered all the strength that remained in
his broken body, raised his head and hit her with a head-butt squarely on her
brow, making her stagger back in surprise and pain.

"Don't you dare touch her, you bitch!!!" he shouted, feeling his throat burning
with the effort. "You better not touch her – 'cause I swear that if you do, I'll
crawl all the way out of Hell itself if I have to, and rip your goddamn heart
out with my bare hands!!"

Faith brought a hand to her brow, where Xander's blow had broken skin, and
looked in astonishment at her bloodied fingers.

Then, in merely a fraction of second, her expression went from surprise to pure
rage.

The vampiress walked to him with determined steps and punched him in the gut so
hard, it made him cough and spit blood. Then she just yanked at his hair,
exposing his neck.

"Have it your way, Xander," Faith growled as her face changed to its demonic
self, "but I swear to you that you'll be the one to kill her. I'll make you kill
her, and then we'll eat her heart together while it's still warm."

Before he could say anything at all, her fangs sank into the tender flesh of his
throat, ripping open his carotid. Xander could only moan, oddly aroused by the
feeling of his lifeblood being sucked out from the open wound in his neck.

It was quicker than what he'd expected. In a very few moments, a blanket of
darkness fell on him, and everything seemed to become suddenly distant and
unfocused.

He stopped feeling pain, as numbness took over his body – his brain just stopped
functioning, and Xander began to forget even what the reason was why he had been
suffering moments ago.

It was getting dark, and the cold wasn't very unpleasant. He felt oddly
comfortable, and all he wanted was to snuggle into a fetal position and just
stop thinking. Just stop...

Something filled his mouth, something wet, cold and coppery, with a deep
metallic taste. He gulped down the liquid, finding its alien taste strangely
delicious and the boy greedily sucked from the source of that rare ambrosia,
feeling his throat burn with a thirst that couldn't be placated.

When it was finally taken away from him he felt empty, as if his body was
becoming a hull, devoid of any content.

The transformation began almost immediately, and its first step came when his
heart stopped beating. It wasn't painful at all; in fact, the teen was engulfed
by a peace he had never known before, as if he had finally reached that port of
calm that had been searching for his whole life.

Everything turned dark. And cold. And silent.

And then, Xander Harris finally died.

Curiously enough, his last conscious thought before he was taken into Death's
embrace was the certainty, the almost fanatical conviction that this precise
moment wasn't by any means the end.

In fact, it was just the beginning.

~~~~~~

Sunnydale, California. December 2, 2002. 6:35 a.m.


Nearly four years later, Xander awoke with the taste of blood in his mouth. The
sticky threads of the nightmare were still crawling over his skin, leaving a
shivering path of fear behind them as they retreated to the darker corners of
his subconscious self. To wait for the next moment to strike.

With a frown he brought his fingers to his lips, and looked at the unmistakable
traces of the red vital liquid matting his skin. Startled, he lost no time in
turning around to face the still form of Cordelia beside him. Had he done
something during his sleep? God help him, had he... bitten her?

For a second he feared what he would find, and a thousand different scenarios
crossed his still-fogged mind as he watched his own hand, moving almost of its
own volition, reaching to touch Cordy's bare shoulder.

When their skins finally made contact, he felt a wave of relief washing him.
Warm, she was warm.

Cordelia turned in her sleep, snuggling closer to him and burying her face in
his broad chest. Xander enveloped her in his protective embrace, placing a soft
kiss on the crown of her dark-haired head.

Now that he was calmer he passed his tongue over his own lip, noticing the cut
where his own teeth had broken skin during his sleep. He felt suddenly cold, a
sensation born from his own interior and against which his vampire abilities
could do nothing at all.

Letting himself finally relax beside her, Xander looked over her sleeping form,
his dark eyes lost on the window of the bedroom, watching as the first rays of
the sun began to filter through the blinds, slowly but effectively making the
darkness of the night vanish.

He remembered. Faith. The cargo bay. The spikes. The pain...

But that was long ago, almost an entire lifetime away from where he was now.

It was in the past. And the past could only hurt him if he let it do so.

Right?

~~~~~~

Outside, the sun was rising up in the sky, banishing the night with the stabbing
of its rays of light. Sunnydale was beginning to wake up and all across the
town, the creatures of the darkness went in search for a safe refuge from the
burning daylight.

But one of them remained a little longer, defying the rising sun and the harsh
light of day. Wrapped in a long and thick cape, the former vampire Slayer known
simply as Faith watched the light reflection in the window of Cordelia's
bedroom, and let a smile cross the beautiful features of her human façade.

"I knew you'd came back to mommy, my dear," she whispered before turning around,
turning her back on the sun and walking into the nearest alley, disappearing
into the darkness.

~~~~~~

To be continued...