Xander Harris: Executioner 4

Xander Harris: Executioner 4

"Facing The Darkness"

She looked far older than her years, a wisp of grey streaking through her hair, and her eyes wrinkled at their red rimmed corners, and he knew that she had taken this harder than anyone. Tara had always been insecure, quick to think the worst of all situations, and though she had grown stronger over the years, this news of Willow's death had returned her to that weak state. She had been crying her soul out for over an hour, letting only Oz hold and comfort her, and Xander felt like even more of a shit than when he had arrived.

He understood what she was feeling all too well, and he wished that he could do absolutely anything to take away her pain. She wouldn't let him even get near her, slapping him across the face when he had first told her, and he felt that he was getting off easy with just that so far.

Oz would toss him the occasional glance, his face at times full of hatred directed at Xander, and at other times, full of the compassion that he was trying to offer the woman that had he had lost Willow to. He shared in her pain, though not to the intensity that he once would have, and he wanted nothing more than to help her through this, hoping that she could do the same for him in return.

There was a loud knock at the door, more like a pounding, and all three of them jumped nervously. Sunset was still a few hours off, but they knew what it would bring and they were getting apprehensive despite the heavy loss that was weighing down their hearts.

Xander was at the door in a second, one hand holding a .45 and the other firmly gripping the doorknob. He cast a glance back and nearly panicked when he saw a seven foot tall werewolf standing next to Tara, the shredded remains of Oz's clothes hanging from it. He started to turn to face the creature, and surprise replaced his shock as the beast spoke to him in a thick, semi-snarling voice.

"Chill, Harris," growled Oz. "I'm in control."

"Okay," replied Xander shakily. "I can deal with that."

Xander turned back to the door and used the barrel of the .45 to edge back the curtain that covered the windows along the side of the door. His brow furrowed as he saw a petite blonde standing along side Riley, the girl seeming strangely familiar. Memories of last night flooded his mind, and he recalled her being there, the other victim that Angelus had been torturing.

"It's Riley," said Xander to the others.

Slipping his gun back within the confines of his trench coat, Xander opened the door and greeted them, doing his best to block their view as a once again human Oz slipped off to find some clothing. As a Commander within the Initiative, Riley was under standing orders to kill anything supernatural that he came into contact with, and while he might ignore the human Oz, Xander knew that he wouldn't ignore the werewolf Oz.

"I thought you might be here," said Riley, sounding as if he would rather be elsewhere. "This is Jenny Blake. She's the only survivor from last night, and she wanted to thank you."

"Oh, hey, no problem," said Xander, drawing a curious look from Riley.

"You okay, Harris?" asked Riley.

"Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. You seem…different."

"Oh, no, he's the same man that saved me last night!" blurted Jenny, her voice striking a familiar cord within Xander.

"Have I met you before?" asked Xander, feeling strongly like he knew the young woman though he couldn't recall having ever seen her before.

"Huh? Oh! No!" said Jenny. "No. I've never met you before."

"Are you sure? Because…"

"Yes! I'm sure," she said, a bit too excitedly.

"Uh, look, I've got things to take care of," started Riley. "I really need to get going."

"Oh, that's okay," said Jenny. "I'm ho…I mean, I can find my way back home."

"Are you sure?" asked Riley, more out of politeness than concern.

"I'll see that she gets there," offered Xander.

Riley nodded, turned smartly on his heel and briskly walked back to the waiting army jeep. The driver sped off as soon as his Commander was in, the olive drab vehicle quickly disappearing around a distant corner.

"Xander, you did it!" squealed Jenny, wrapping her arms around him.

"Uh, yeah, I know," he stammered, unsure of how to react to her glee. "I was there, remember?"

"And you're more like you!" she said, smiling at him.

"Who are you?" he asked, confused at the way she kept referring to him like she had known him for a long time.

Jenny stepped around the perplexed Xander and entered the house, coming to halt as she saw the emotionally drained Tara seating on the edge of the sofa. Tara looked up at her, her eyes widening in disbelief, and a smile spreading across her face in recognition.

Xander closed the door and turned back around to see Tara smiling like an idiot, and Oz standing in the doorway of the kitchen, sniffing at the air. Oz's expression lit up like a child that had just found his most prized toy, lost for weeks, and Xander felt completely out of the loop.

"Uh, what's going on here?" asked Xander.

Tara was up from the couch in a flash, Jenny running towards her at the same moment, and the two women met halfway, embracing each other passionately. They were both weeping in the joyous sad way that women have, and Oz slowly walked over to them, smiling, and joined them in their embrace.

"Hey, we're suppose to be in mourning here," said Xander.

At Jenny's instigation, the group hug broke apart, the young blonde turning to face Xander with tear filled eyes and a wide spread grin. Shaking her head, she walked up to him and gently cupped his face with her hands.

"Xander, it's me," she said.

"Will?" he asked, hesitantly.

She nodded, fresh tears flowing as her smile grew even wider. She hugged him tightly, Xander returning the show of affection with a touch of uncertainty. She could sense his confusion, and she stepped back from him, smacking him in the arm like she was so disappointed that he couldn't see the obvious.

"How?" asked Xander, still uncertain though he knew it was true.

"Remember Amy and her mom?"

Xander nodded.

"Same thing, but I switched places with this poor girl," explained Jenny/Willow. "Angelus destroyed her mind with his tortures, wanting to save me for bait to try and trap Tara. When I saw you come charging in, I knew that he would kill me before he would let you rescue me, so…"

"Don't thank him too much," said Oz. "He wasn't there to rescue you, Will."

"Xander?" asked Willow.

He couldn't look at her, even with the strange face that she was wearing, and she knew that there was truth to Oz's statement. She took a small step back, betrayal playing across her new face, and Xander felt another part of himself wither in shame.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"Will, I… I didn't know you were there," he said, still looking down at he floor. "I'd tracked him there, wanting only to kill him. When I saw you there… Well, it was just another excuse to do what I had wanted to do for a long time."

"I understand," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "I don't hate you, Xander. I never did. You did what you had to do."

Xander did finally look up, his face twisted with anguish as he fought back the tears that were burning his eyes. He had given up his soul for such a long time that it was coming back with a vengeance that he could not control, the remorse flowing from him with a palatable energy of its own.

Willow began crying again, sharing her friend's pain, and embraced him once more, offering the comfort that only she could. Tara joined her, holding both of them tightly as they all cried out the pain of ten years, and moments later they were joined by a fourth, even Oz letting go of his anger.

"Oh, if this isn't a bloody Kodak moment," came Spike's mocking voice.

The four of them looked at him with red, tear filled eyes, almost laughing as they saw him smoking slightly despite having used a heavy blanket to cover himself from the sunlight.

"You all better pull yer heads out a your arses," said Spike, tossing the blanket aside. "She's not far off."

"Who?" asked Tara before Willow or Oz could.

"Faith," answered Xander.

"And she's bloody well pissed," added Spike. "I hope the Executioner's up to takin' er on."

A shudder ran through Xander and fear flashed across his face. The others had missed it, but Spike hadn't, and the vamp was suddenly alert, worried about what he had just seen.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Spike. "Was that fear?"

"Uh, well, you see…" stammered Xander.

"Oh, hell, you've lost your bloody nerve," stated Spike, slumping against the wall. "What? You meet up with some old friends and suddenly you're a pussy again?"

"I made my peace with Anya," said Xander, unashamed.

"Oh, that's just great. You made your peace," ranted Spike, pacing about the living room. "And now the most violent vampire in the world comes here to take our heads!"

"She won't be taking anybody's head," said Oz, almost too quietly. He held his open hand out, looking at the others expectantly.

Xander smiled and placed his hand over Oz's.

Then Willow, followed by Tara, like a team of players that had just decided they were going to win the game no matter what odds they faced. They stood there, offering their support to each other, and all of them looked to Spike.

"Oh, bloody hell," griped Spike, rolling his eyes.

The others just smiled as he walked over and smacked his hand down on top of theirs, offering a forced smile in response.

Elsewhere,

Giles slammed shut the book he had been reading, tossed his glasses to the table, and began massaging his eyes. Frustration was starting to become a constant companion, and he feared that it would be an emotion that he would never be free of. He hadn't been able to find even a passing mention of anything that remotely resembled the Relic that he had given Willow, and he was fearing that he never would.

He knew that the young Wicca blamed herself, but that the fault was entirely his. He should have never given her the seemingly innocent trinket, knowing full well that any relic found within the vicinity of the Hellmouth was not going to be harmless no matter how it appeared.

The door to the Magic Shop rattled open, a tired looking Buffy entering, and he could tell from her expression that she was not the barer of good news. The strain of the past few weeks was beginning to show even on her, and he cursed himself yet again for allowing this to happen.

"How is he?" asked Giles, hoping for any news at all.

"Stable, for a change," said Buffy, setting in a chair next to Giles. "He's still not responding to anything, but he's not slipping further away for the moment."

"That's a small comfort," stated Giles, replacing his glasses on his face. "As long as his condition doesn't worsen, then we have more time to search for an answer."

"Any news from the Council?" asked Buffy, knowing that Giles would have already told her if there had been anything positive.

"No, I'm afraid. They're as perplexed as we are, but they've still got people researching it."

They sat in silence for a moment, both of them absently staring at the pile of leather bound books strewn over the table.

"We can't give up hope, Buffy," offered Giles.

"I know. It's just that I feel so helpless. Everything that I am, and I can't do a damn thing to help him. I feel utterly useless."

"Yes, I know what you mean."

Silence again invaded the shop, neither of them interested in breaking it, and they just sat in each other's company. The sharp ring of the phone made them both jump, and they let out nervous laughs that belayed the knotted up feelings within them. Giles thought of ignoring it, it was the business line after all, but decided that he might as well tell who ever it was that they were going to be closed for a while.

"Thank you for… Wesley?" said Giles, recognized the babbling voice on the other end of the line.

Buffy looked up expectantly, hoping that things were finally going to change.

"Yes, I understand," said Giles into the phone. "Yes…yes…you need what?…well, yes, I suppose we can…of course not, not in the shop…but…very well…yes, so long."

Giles hung up the phone and stood there looking mystified, rubbing his chin as he fell into a deep thought. His silence was grating on Buffy's nerves, and she finally burst, demanding to know what had been said.

"Oh, sorry," apologized Giles. "That was Wesley."

"So I gathered," she said, feeling perturbed. "What did he say?"

"Angel's on his way here, right now. He thinks he's found an answer to our problem, but we need to have things ready for when he arrives. He says that Xander might not have much time left."

"Shopping list?" demanded Buffy, rising to grab a pen and paper.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, well I have most of the items here," he started, "except for one."

"Which is?"

"The blood of a demon."

Buffy grabbed a decorative vial from within the main counter, and held it up for Giles to examine. "How much?"

"Oh, Buffy, I wouldn't charge you…"

"How much blood do you need?"

"Sorry. Not much, just a few drops actually."

"I'll meet you at the hospital," she yelled back, running out the door.