With a nod to Caitlin for the electronic slap upside the head in regards to bending to the mainstream

With a nod to Caitlin for the electronic slap upside the head in regards to bending to the mainstream. A little darker, a little edgier, but ultimately just another piece of fiction in the sea of pointlessness…

Buffy, The Vampire Slayer

"Xander Harris, Executioner"

Harris snubbed out the cigarette with the heel of his boot, chuckling softly to himself as he saw where the vamps had made their nest. A lifetime ago he had spent much of his youthful years at The Bronze, back before things had literally gone to hell, and he thought it rather ironic that his hunt had brought him back here, a decade later.

"Bastards can't leave anything untainted," he said to himself as he started across the street.

There were others of their kind out on the street, younger ones who knew what Harris was and they quickly faded from the area. They had no desire to die tonight, they would much rather see the older ones go, the ones that tormented them almost as much as they tormented the humans.

One of them though, held his ground, lounging beside the door that gave entrance to the former Bronze, smoking a blunt and watching the approaching Executioner with wary eyes. He was only marginally fearful of Harris, knowing full well how deep the man's hatred of his kind ran, but he also had a somewhat safe working arrangement with the man. At least until he proved to be useful no more.

"Spike," said Harris in way of a greeting.

"How's it going, Xander?"

"I'll let you know in about ten minutes," replied Harris, pulling a shotgun out from under his trench coat. "Are you sure that it's him this time?"

"You got it, mate," replied Spike, stubbing out his smoke. "Showed up two nights ago, a whole bevy of beauties in tow."

"We're even, Spike," said Harris through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, I'd figured you call it for this one," smiled Spike. "Kinda thought I'd throw something in for you, though. For old time's sake."

Harris pumped a round into the chamber of the shotgun, just giving Spike a sideways look of annoyance.

"Riley's on his way," revealed Spike, raising his eyebrows. "Got a whole battalion of his bloody rangers wit' em."

"He always did like overkill."

"Are you sure ya don't want my help?" asked Spike. "I wouldn't mind 'aving a hand in his demise, even if it was just some of his lackeys."

"This one's mine, Spike. If you come in, you become a target."

"Blimey, you sound just like her."

"Thanks."

Harris kicked open the door and hard rock music came blaring out into the night, mixed with the subdued screams of those being tortured within. His face was set in stone, a cold hard mask of death, and he stepped through the door firing.

The vamp guard had been fully entranced by the show being put on by his Master, completely oblivious to the intrusion of Harris until it was too late. Turning swiftly, his senses telling him that something was wrong, the vamp didn't even have time to snarl as Harris's first shot caught him in the heart, the wooden tipped projectile turning him to just so much dust.

Two more vamps spun around at the sound of the blast, lunging at the Executioner just to be blown away like their compatriot. A dozen more vamps that had been dancing and partying in the center of the Bronze, circling their Master as he slowly bled the two captive woman, suddenly froze, fear flashing across their twisted faces.

Someone pulled the plug on the jukebox, and the night became quiet, filled only with the sobbing whimpers of the two victims. Harris looked to the victims first, his blood boiling as he saw that she was one of them, the last friend he had from days long gone, and he knew that he had to end this tonight. It must have been obvious in his glare, the hatred and anger that he felt, for the vamps suddenly seemed to shrink back from him, only their Master holding his ground.

"Angelus," said Xander, and edge to his voice that, years ago, no one would have thought him capable of.

"Xander?" said Angelus, mocking him, smiling like he had just found a lost treasure. "Xander Harris, is that you?"

"I told you I wanted to be there when you died, and it looks like my lucky night."

Angelus grunted, seeming more amused than frightened, and slowly circled the two woman on the floor at his feet. The one was a blonde, a look of sheer terror on her bloodied face, tears having streaked the blood into smeared trails. Harris didn't know who she was, probably a friend, but he knew the other one, the one that he still cared about.

Willow was a blank, her eyes vacant and empty, and Harris knew that he was too late to save her. Physically she could be rescued, but mentally and emotionally, there was no hope. She had left this world a long time ago, Angelus undoubtedly having taken great pleasure in driving her over the edge.

"The White Knight returns home," mocked Angelus, brushing a hand along Willow's face. "And once again, he is too late to do anyone any good."

A movement to his right and Harris brought his gun up and fired without looking, dusting another vamp. He dropped the spent gun to the floor, his left hand reaching into his coat and bringing out a machinegun, and he aimed it at Angelus.

"Nice touch," said Angelus. "Didn't think anyone made wooden bullets anymore."

"It's amazing the services you can find if you ask the right people."

"I'm going to rip out your heart and feast on your entrails," snarled Angelus, his face vamping out fully.

"Like you did to your friends in LA?" asked Harris. "Like you did to Buffy and her mom? Like you did to Giles? Like you did to my Anya?"

"What can I say?" smiled Angelus. "I so like my work."

"Ten years, Angelus. That's a long time you've been running from me."

"I was toying with you, you idiot," spat Angelus. "Do you think that I couldn't have killed you any time that I wanted? You always wanted to be the hero, the savior of the day. And each time I took one of them, you died more than I could possibly ever do to you."

"Yeah, I know. But you also helped me become exactly what I wanted to be. Your kind fears me more than they ever did the Slayer, and it's all thanks to you. And when I kill you, and I will kill you, then none of them will be safe. I will hunt down every last vampire on the face of the earth."

"How can you hope to save yourself?" asked Angelus, placing his hands on both sides of Willow's head. "You couldn't even save a one of them."

With a twist he snapped her neck, much like he had Jenny Calendar's so many years ago, and Angelus let out a low hiss as he smiled evilly.

Harris opened up with the machinegun, not going for Angelus, but spraying the circled group of vamps, mowing them down with the deadly projectiles before any of them could react. His skills were good, honed over the years he had spent tracking Angelus, and not a one of them escaped him.

The machinegun ran dry, it's clip empty, and Harris discarded it as he had the shotgun, just dropping it to the floor. Angelus cast nervous glances about him, not believing that his entire brood had just been wiped out, and turned to face Harris, snarling with rage.

"It's just us now, dead boy," said Harris, smirking. "Is there still enough man in you to take me on, one on one?"

Angelus didn't reply, he merely leapt at Harris, roaring with anger, his claws poised to rip into the Executioner and end their decade long game of cat and mouse. The two men slammed to the ground, Angelus pinning Harris there easily with his supernatural strength, and he reared his head back hissing, his incisors ready to rip into the man's neck.

"You had to do it!" yelled Harris, resisting not at all. "You had to fall in love with Faith. You learned nothing from what happen with Buffy."

"Oh, I learned something alright," said Angelus, pausing in his attack. "I learned that I like being Angelus a whole hell of a lot more than I did being Angel."

Angelus tore into Harris's neck, ripping through the soft, plastic tasting flesh and drinking wildly. It hit him a moment before the pain did, the realization that the Executioner's flesh had tasted of plastic, and he knew then that it was over.

Roaring wilding, throwing himself backwards as he clutched at his smoking face, Angelus withered about the floor in agony. Most of his jaw was gone, his neck and chest now smoking as he disintegrated from the inside, the Executioner's latest trick working perfectly.

Harris propped himself up on his elbows, his face still showing no expressions as he watched his prey die a painful death. Bits of torn, flesh colored latex hung about his neck, his shirt wet from what little remained of the Holy Water that had been contained there.

The sounds of smashing glass and shattering wood filled the air as dozens of shapes dressed in combat gear poured into the building, Initiative forces led by Riley Finn finally arriving on the scene. Six of the soldiers circled the thrashing form of Angelus, their weapons trained on the vamp despite the obvious state of his condition.

Riley offered his hand and helped Harris up, saying nothing to the man that had become legend among even the Initiative. Riley turned, staring at the spasming, suffering thing that had once been Angel, and almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

"End it," said Riley, meaning for his men to put a wooden slug through the vamp's head.

"No," said Harris, the men listening. "It's not even a fraction of what he deserves."

Riley nodded to his men and they stood down, stepping back from the bubbling thing that Angelus was becoming. For nearly ten minutes he lay there, his ruined body trying to make sounds that it was no longer capable of, before finally dying, crumbling to dust and echor like so many before him.

"We got a report that Faith's been sighted in Baltimore," said Riley. "I could give you a one day head start."

"No. I've got to start here," said Harris, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "It's time to take back what's ours."

"I also heard that another Slayer has been activated."

"Stay away from her, Riley. They don't bring anything but death and pain."