XANDER HARRIS: EXECUTIONER 3

XANDER HARRIS: EXECUTIONER 3

"Prelude To Battle"

Xander walked along the streets of Sunnydale, amazed that the town was recovering so quickly from its occupation of vampires. People were unboarding store fronts and homes; cleaning trash from the streets; looking forward to a night free of fear for the first time in ten years. All in all, there were lots more people still here than Xander would have thought, but then Sunnydale had always been that way.

The few hours of sleep that he had managed to snatch at Spike's tomb had done him wonders despite its briefness, and he had decided that he needed to see the rest of the places that he had long ago abandoned. He had his own demons to exorcise, and Angelus had only been one of the physical ones. There were still others, memories and lost chances, that he wanted to face before tonight.

Before she arrived.

One street led to another, his feet following paths that he hadn't traveled in what seemed like a life time, and Xander found himself standing outside of the remains of his parent's house. Ruined, burnt, and caved in on it self, the structure looked much like Xander imagined it did the morning after Angelus killed his parents. Considering the state of terror that Sunnydale had quickly fallen into, Xander wouldn't have been surprised to find that their bodies were still in the ruins.

Sickened and remorseful, yes. Surprised, no.

He stood there in silence, just staring at the black and crumbly timbers that looked like the twisted skeletal remains of some gigantic creature. No thoughts ran through his mind, nor any emotions through his soul, and that bothered him more than the sight before him.

His lack of feeling.

They hadn't been good parents. Hell, they hadn't even been half-way decent parents, but they had been his parents. He should feel something for them, despite the passage of time, and he thought it cold that he didn't. Colder than he had ever imagined that he could become. Cold like his father had been.

That brought forth an emotion within him. Loathing. He had loathed his father when he had been alive, and now he was loathing himself for being like him. That recognition opened the flood gate of his awareness, and Xander suddenly realized the truth of his existence.

He had become his father.

The anger. The hatred. The bitterness. The abusiveness. The cold hearted way of dealing with others. All of these traits had become Xander's, had made him into the Executioner that the legions of vampires so feared.

And he owed it to that bastard.

An old Alanis Morissette song came to mind, and Xander agreed that it was indeed ironic, how life twisted things around. For the first time ever, Xander found himself wondering what kind of childhood his father had had, what had happened to the man to turn him into the bastard that had dominated Xander's life and nightmares.

His revere was shaken by a feeling of intrusion, and he knew that he was not alone in his vigil of the house. Looking right, thinking that a neighbor had spied him and had come out to reminisce, he was surprised to see the familiar, if aged, face of a friend from those times long ago.

"What's up?" asked Oz, as subdued as Xander remembered.

"Oz," greeted Xander, merely nodding.

"I ran into Riley a little bit ago," he offered unnecessarily. "He told me what happen last night."

"Follow my scent?" asked Xander, truly curious.

"No," replied Oz, making a what a stupid question face.

"So, how's the big and hairy side of you coming along? Still got it under control?"

"Yeah."

"Still pretty much the quiet guy, I see," stated Xander.

"Uh-huh."

"So what do you want, Oz?" blurted Xander, getting a little more than unnerved with the whole semi-silent bit. "I'm sure you didn't track me down to toss out one and two word grunts."

"Did you tell Tara yet?"

"What?" asked Xander, surprise and confusion evident in his face.

"Did you tell Tara about Willow?"

Xander's mind reeled as he thought about Oz's question. He hadn't even considered the thought that Tara was still alive, assuming that if Angelus had captured Willow it was because she had been weakened by the loss of her other half. Willow and Tara had become powerful Wiccas, their love strengthening their magic, and he had never thought that either of them could be taken while both were still alive.

"I didn't realize," he finally managed to get out. "I thought that Angelus had already killed her."

"He grabbed Will two weeks ago," informed Oz. "Tara called me to try and help find her. She tried all kinds of spells, but until yesterday they all seemed like they were being blocked. Then…bam…she gets a reading that brings us right to Sunnydale."

"Imagine that," quipped Xander. "He was probably expecting you guys to show last night instead of me."

"Since the Executioner's never been to Sunnydale…" said Oz, trailing off. It was clear to Xander that he was implying that the Executioner should have come home a very long time ago.

"Never had reason until he came back here."

"What ever."

"I get the feeling that you don't like me much anymore, Oz," said Xander, the hardness creeping back into his voice. "Why's that?"

"You could have saved her, but instead you turned your back on them to carry out your hunt for Angelus."

Xander thought of his berating of Spike earlier that morning, and how he had said much the same thing to the vamp. He had accused Spike of running out on the group, of abandoning them to the wrath of Angelus, and now he was being confronted with the same apathy that he had showed.

"You should have come back to us a long time ago," said Oz.

"I'm back now."

"And it's too late for Will."

"It was too late when I found her, Oz," said Xander, his voice barely a whisper. "She… She wasn't Willow anymore. I don't think she was even human anymore."

Oz glared at him.

"On the inside," added Xander. "I could see it in her eyes, Oz. She wasn't there anymore."

"That doesn't it make it any easier."

"No. No, it doesn't."

"Do you want me to tell her?" asked Oz. "She's staying at Will's old place. I'm suppose to meet her there in an hour."

"I'll tell her," said Xander, the hardness draining from his face for the first time since Oz had greeted him. "I've got one more thing to do, but then I'll be there. I promise."

"Don't run out on this, Xander."

"I won't, Oz," he said, and Oz could tell he ment it.

Nodding slowly, Oz turned and walked up the street, not even offering a look back at the regretful Xander.

Waiting until Oz was out of sight, Xander jogged across the street and headed for the last place he ever thought he would want to see again. It wasn't far from the ruins of his parent's house, not much in Sunnydale was far from anything, and within a few minutes he was standing out side of his former apartment building.

Steeling his nerves, fighting down the feelings of loss and remorse that were trying to overwhelm him, Xander entered the building and ascended the stairs to his, and Anya's, former apartment. He was both relieved and saddened that no one had done anything with the building, and it was with a heavy heart that he halted before the shattered remains of the door to their former apartment.

The mask slipped back into place fully, the coldness evident in his eyes, and Xander stepped over the door that the police had broken down ten years ago to save him. It was the only way he could bring himself to enter the apartment, by becoming the Executioner, but once he was inside, he knew that even that was not enough.

The walls that he had so strongly built came crashing down, pure, raw, emotional pain and anguish washing through his soul like a tidal wave, and Xander Harris dropped to his knees. He beat his fists on the floor, he screamed at the top of his lungs, he wailed like the broken man that he had hidden all of these years. He released the pent up feelings of heartache that he had contained for so long, purging himself of the very forces that had driven him.

"I miss you so very much," he said to the empty room, wiping some of the tears from his face. "Oh, God, Anya. I miss you."

A warm wind swept through the apartment, a sense of love seeming to flow over him, and Xander felt peace for the first time since that horrid night a decade ago. He couldn't see her, but he knew that she was there. He could smell her scent, and he drank it in deeply, relishing it like no ecstasy that he had ever known.

Just as silently, just as warmly, she was gone, leaving him only with the impressions upon his senses to revel in. He knelt there, weeping softly with longing, and remembered all of the happy times that they had shared. Memories of love and joy, of both needing and wanting, of being complete. Time passed by, his soul feeling more complete with each passing moment, and finally he rose to leave.

He had to go to Tara and tell her about Willow.

Elsewhere…

"How is he?" asked Buffy, stepping into the room.

Anya tried to answer, but her emotions wouldn't let her, tears swelling up in her eyes and her voice cracking at the very attempt. Tara hugged her, offering comfort, and quietly told her to rest.

Willow got up from her chair on the other side of the bed, and met Buffy at the door, directing her friend back out into the hallway. Once free of the anguish that seemed to hang in the room , Willow let her guard down and began sobbing herself.

"It'll be okay, Will," offered Buffy, hugging her friend. "He'll come out of this, you'll see."

"We never should have tried it, Buffy," Willow managed to choke out. "We should have waited for Giles."

"It's not your fault, Will," said Buffy, gripping her friend by the shoulders and looking her directly in the face. "He wanted you to try it, you had no idea this would happen."

"But he won't wake up," cried Willow. "The doctors don't even know why."

"Giles is still looking for an answer," said Buffy. "He'll find something. He's even called Angel and the Council for help."

"He keeps getting weaker. Anya won't leave his side, and it's starting to wear her down, too."

"Xander's not a quitter, Will. He's fighting this thing, what ever it is, and he'll come back to us."

"Do you really think so?" asked Willow, looking deeply into Buffy's eyes for any trace of deception.

"Yes," replied Buffy, with her heart.

Willow just began crying again, letting Buffy hold her as she tormented herself over what she had done to the best friend she had ever had.