Willow is in the hospital.
She had a mild concussion and a few scrapes and bruises. She told everyone she was fine as we stood around her bed. She even tried to smile but ended up doing some kind of weird half-wince. Oz stood stoically at her side, his hand gently holding hers. Giles wanted to know when and how it had happened. Buffy wanted to know if it was something that she could stop. Amy was just concerned for her friend. And Cordy felt pretty much the same.
Me?
I only felt two things.
An incredible amount of guilt that this had happened to her.
And a mind numbing sense of fear. Because I knew what had done this to her.
March me through the desert and crucify me now.
It's all my fault.
She described the man as "huge." They're all huge. There aren't any little weaklings running around in the tribe. Except maybe me. She told us that he had a beard, wore dark jeans and a red flannel shirt. She said he looked like a trucker on steroids. She didn't remember too much about what had happened. Giles questioned her in his slow, caring manner, and Buffy just looked like she wanted to kill something.
She remembered going to the magic shop. She remembered buying a few roots whose name I can't recall, a small spell book and a jar of eye of newt. She told us that when she left the shop, no one was on the sidewalk, and she didn't hear anything before she was hit. I knew how she felt. The same thing happened to me. But I could defend myself. She couldn't.
It was all my fault.
I was sure to stand off to the side and keep quiet. Too many thoughts were whirling around inside my brain. I knew who it was that attacked her. I knew my "tribe" wanted me and my friends dead for some reason. Well, different reasons than the more obvious ones. I swore they could hear my heart beating so loud again.
They didn't.
We were all about to leave when Willow remembered one last thing. The giant trucker guy had said something to her. Something that didn't make any sense to her.
"He said I knew the Prince," she told us. "Whoever that is."
Blind panic took over my body. I shoved my hands in my pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking. Everyone else mulled over what "prince" the man could have been talking about and I quietly exited into the hallway. I was getting sick of all this "demon" crap. I didn't want it. I didn't ask for it. I wish it would just go away. But it won't go away. It can't. I'm stuck.
They're all going to have a meeting at the library later. It's standard protocol when something attacks one of us big and ugly. Oz will most likely stay behind with Willow, which is good. Caring boyfriend duties and all that. I won't be there. I know it will raise some questions. Questions I know I couldn't possibly answer. I didn't care. At that moment I wanted to be anywhere else.
I slipped out of the hospital and ran all the way back to my house.
This was starting to become a habit.
***
I got to my house, after ignoring most of the cross traffic as I ran through mostly unused streets. I opened the door, walked inside, and started to push away the KFC take-out containers and pizza boxes that were scattered all over the kitchen table. Underneath all the mess was a tiny slip of paper with numbers written in a precise hand. I picked up the phone and pushed the numbers that are written down.
If it's even possible, his phone voice seemed colder than his real one. His tone was short and clipped and I don't think he really wanted to talk to me then. Too bad.
"Who the fuck is in Sunndayle dad?" I yelled into the receiver.
It felt strange calling him that again but I didn't dwell on it too long.
"Who is where?" He asked, his voice sounding slightly amused at my scream.
"Someone tried to kill me last night. Someone I recognized from your precious tribe. One of them hurt Willow. Who the hell are they?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line. I could hear a few slight murmurings appear in the background. "I'll get some people on it," he said to me. And if I didn't know better, I could have sworn I heard a touch of anxiety in his monotone voice. I don't think he anticipated any of this. But before I can make certain of its presence, I hear a click and the line goes dead. I slammed the phone back on the hook.
"Not even you know," I muttered.
I wandered into my living room, nearly tripping over coffee table for a record tenth time. I flopped onto the couch. I don't know how long I lay there staring aimlessly up at my ceiling. I felt like I should have been doing something, but I couldn't remove myself from the small comforting depths of the cushions. I didn't even try, actually. I wanted to stay there till I died.
The phone started ringing in the kitchen and I'm not sure how long it was before I even noticed. I got up and stumbled over a few more pizza boxes that had fallen to the floor. I picked up the phone thinking it was my father calling me back and I made sure my voice seemed as impatient as it could.
"What?" I barked.
"What is right," she growled back at me.
I stood there a second, blinking in my dark kitchen.
"Buffy?"
"Expecting someone else?" She asked.
Yes.
"No."
"Where did you go Xander?" She asked me. "Willow wanted to talk to you when we were going to leave but you were already gone."
"I wasn't feeling well," I said lamely. "I came home."
"You left a hospital because you weren't feeling well? You seem really out of it lately Xand," she said.
I could hear the concern in her voice. If she only knew.
"Have a lot of stuff on my mind," I said.
"Like what?"
"Stuff."
She got quiet for a second. I could hear her breathing on the other end. Some small part of me wanted to make her feel better. But it was too small to actually have made me do it.
"We may have a lead on the man that attacked her," she said, ending the silence.
"That's good."
"God Xander," she bit out. "Do you even care?"
"Of course I do," I said, my voice still sounding like a recording.
"Prove it," she said. "Be at the library in ten minutes."
She hung up before I could say anything more and I stood there, still holding the phone to my ear.
"Okay," I said to no one.
***
I got there in less than ten minutes because I took my father's car. Everyone was already there sitting around the main table. All their eyes watched me as I walked in. I seemed to be the last in line a lot lately. I don't think I ever felt so out of place in my life. Oz was there. I guess he thought it would better to help Willow by going with us. Good for him. I walked slowly over to them and sat down. They discussed the plan but I don't think I heard a word of it.
Willow was lying in the hospital.
And it was all my fault. She could have known, but I took her only protection away from her. I took the truth away.
My mouth opened and closed every other couple of seconds. I moved to speak and then I didn't.
Open. Close. Open. Close.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. It felt like a million sewing needles were stabbing me in the legs.
Tell them tell them tell them, my heart whispered into my ear.
Say nothing say nothing say nothing, my mind retorted.
You'd think this would be an easy choice.
Yeah, you would think that, wouldn't you? Just tell them everything. Open up the treasure chest of my mind and lay it all out on the table in front of them. Spill my guts. Cash in a couple million pennies for a couple million thoughts that have been in non-stop rotation in my brain for the past couple of weeks.
But don't you understand what the truth would do?
Do you have any fucking clue at all?
I'm a goddamn demon.
We *kill* goddamned demons.
I couldn't say a word. But there was a part of me that thought I could see a gray area. That I could protect the friends that aren't really supposed to be my friends. I could protect the father that is really a liar and a tyrant. I could protect all of us.
I could protect me. Who was really a coward.
The gray area reverted back to black and white.
Leaving me stuck in the middle.
"Xander?" Buffy said, grabbing my attention. Everyone was standing up and putting on their jackets and grabbing weapons. I didn't hear a single word about the plan but I jumped to my feet and quickly follow anyway. I didn't need any weapons. I had my own built right in. I grabbed some anyway.
No need to get sloppy now.
***
We found them in a dilapidated cabin, which looked more like a shack to me, in Breaker Woods, courtesy of Oz's nose.
And now we were fighting for our lives.
I'm not sure how it all happened, why suddenly I was sitting in a van one minute and sprinting toward some unknown destination with only the shadows of the night to guide me the next. Funny how it all came to this. How in the beginning it all seemed so cool and exciting to be fighting the fight between good and evil. And now it just seemed like reality bit you on the ass and took you for a roller coaster ride to hell.
We've all split up and switched off our flashlights, knowing it would better our chances of achieving surprise, and not thinking that it probably wouldn't help us at all. They were monsters like me. We were screwed. I had grabbed the hand of the person nearest me, who turned out to be Amy, and just took off running without even questioning the plan I'd never heard. Now she and I were struggling past the brush and scratchy braches, not hearing anything but our labored breaths and snaps of the tree branches crunching under our feet.
And suddenly I felt it again. A rush of energy straight to my head and a cold chill running down my spine. I stopped so suddenly Amy almost fell forward into a knocked over tree.
"What's wrong?" She asked, trying to catch her breath. "Xander, what are you doing? We should keep going..."
"We should split up," I found myself saying to her, and pulled my hand from hers.
"What?"
I couldn't see her face very well, but I knew she was looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped partly open in shock. She didn't want to be alone in the woods where seven-foot tall demons liked to play. She tried to grab my hand again.
"You go that way," I said. "It looks like there is more space to go through. I'll go the other way," I said, surprised at the calmness in my voice.
"Xander, are you nuts? That doesn't make any sense. Don't leave me alone out here!"
"Just *go*, Amy," I replied, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her towards a direction while I ran off to another. And now all I could hear was my own struggled breathing, my own footsteps crashing through piles of branches, my own heartbeat... nothing else. You'd think there'd be owls hooting or crickets chirping or that I could the faint shouts of Buffy and Giles or somebody, but I heard nothing but own movements against the cold and deadly silence.
My shoulders tensed as I felt him coming. I hoped Amy didn't run into one of these guys. I slowed down a little bit, so I was still running but at a deliberately milder pace. The coldness swarms my body at the loss of speed so I let my body charge with the energy inside just a small bit.
Wait.
What the hell was I doing?
Before I could even think to answer my own question, a massive hand grabbed my arm and threw me off the ground. The other hand smacked a big meaty fist against the back of my head and sent me down to the ground in pain and surprise. He didn't wait long before he pulled me up and held me by the shoulders. It was a split-second of a moment that we were able to get a look at each other in the dim moonlight.
He saw just exactly who I was. He smiled.
"You are not my Prince boy," he snarled.
He raised his fist to deliver a knockout blow but I snapped my hands to his neck before he could strike. It was such a small move, but I was surprised when he let his hand fall back to his side. I realize then that he knew what I was capable of. I even think he possibly regretted ever touching me.
And so it started.
I shut my eyes as I gripped his neck firmly. He struggled to get free of me, but it is already too late. He screamed in fear and called out for help to anyone who would listen, anyone who could hear him in the lifeless night.
I must admit.
It was kind of a rush to make giant monster such as him to revert to a sniveling baby with a single touch.
He started to cry out again but it was far, far too late. Anger and frustration and fury... every emotion that has consumed me in endless and continual nightmare torn and sleepless nights broke out of my repressed body.
I squeezed his neck tighter and tighter, willing the burning and tearing of the energy to torch the material of his body into a smoldering pile of ash and cinder. His cries for mercy got louder and louder, and many times he desperately called out ancient spells that paid him no mind. I saw a burst of light erupting from his stomach, and the explosion of several more from other areas of his body. I closed my eyes tighter to avoid the blinding glare that my power creates. And I still refused to let go despite the blistering heat that surrounded us and his wailing cries of pain. My smaller body held on to his more prominent one, and his failed attempt at killing me, and his rebellion against my father. I cried out too as his very existence was burned away at my hand.
I fell to ground when the last of him flickered away.
I felt so much pain building inside my head.
And then there was nothing.
I opened my eyes tentatively, and nothing but the black cloud of ash stood before me.
I fell on my back in exhaustion, collapsing further into silent blackness.
I had just killed another person.
It was justified.
At least that's what I tried to tell myself.
I don't know if I decided to take a nap or just seemed to pass out.
But I was grateful for the rest.
She had a mild concussion and a few scrapes and bruises. She told everyone she was fine as we stood around her bed. She even tried to smile but ended up doing some kind of weird half-wince. Oz stood stoically at her side, his hand gently holding hers. Giles wanted to know when and how it had happened. Buffy wanted to know if it was something that she could stop. Amy was just concerned for her friend. And Cordy felt pretty much the same.
Me?
I only felt two things.
An incredible amount of guilt that this had happened to her.
And a mind numbing sense of fear. Because I knew what had done this to her.
March me through the desert and crucify me now.
It's all my fault.
She described the man as "huge." They're all huge. There aren't any little weaklings running around in the tribe. Except maybe me. She told us that he had a beard, wore dark jeans and a red flannel shirt. She said he looked like a trucker on steroids. She didn't remember too much about what had happened. Giles questioned her in his slow, caring manner, and Buffy just looked like she wanted to kill something.
She remembered going to the magic shop. She remembered buying a few roots whose name I can't recall, a small spell book and a jar of eye of newt. She told us that when she left the shop, no one was on the sidewalk, and she didn't hear anything before she was hit. I knew how she felt. The same thing happened to me. But I could defend myself. She couldn't.
It was all my fault.
I was sure to stand off to the side and keep quiet. Too many thoughts were whirling around inside my brain. I knew who it was that attacked her. I knew my "tribe" wanted me and my friends dead for some reason. Well, different reasons than the more obvious ones. I swore they could hear my heart beating so loud again.
They didn't.
We were all about to leave when Willow remembered one last thing. The giant trucker guy had said something to her. Something that didn't make any sense to her.
"He said I knew the Prince," she told us. "Whoever that is."
Blind panic took over my body. I shoved my hands in my pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking. Everyone else mulled over what "prince" the man could have been talking about and I quietly exited into the hallway. I was getting sick of all this "demon" crap. I didn't want it. I didn't ask for it. I wish it would just go away. But it won't go away. It can't. I'm stuck.
They're all going to have a meeting at the library later. It's standard protocol when something attacks one of us big and ugly. Oz will most likely stay behind with Willow, which is good. Caring boyfriend duties and all that. I won't be there. I know it will raise some questions. Questions I know I couldn't possibly answer. I didn't care. At that moment I wanted to be anywhere else.
I slipped out of the hospital and ran all the way back to my house.
This was starting to become a habit.
***
I got to my house, after ignoring most of the cross traffic as I ran through mostly unused streets. I opened the door, walked inside, and started to push away the KFC take-out containers and pizza boxes that were scattered all over the kitchen table. Underneath all the mess was a tiny slip of paper with numbers written in a precise hand. I picked up the phone and pushed the numbers that are written down.
If it's even possible, his phone voice seemed colder than his real one. His tone was short and clipped and I don't think he really wanted to talk to me then. Too bad.
"Who the fuck is in Sunndayle dad?" I yelled into the receiver.
It felt strange calling him that again but I didn't dwell on it too long.
"Who is where?" He asked, his voice sounding slightly amused at my scream.
"Someone tried to kill me last night. Someone I recognized from your precious tribe. One of them hurt Willow. Who the hell are they?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line. I could hear a few slight murmurings appear in the background. "I'll get some people on it," he said to me. And if I didn't know better, I could have sworn I heard a touch of anxiety in his monotone voice. I don't think he anticipated any of this. But before I can make certain of its presence, I hear a click and the line goes dead. I slammed the phone back on the hook.
"Not even you know," I muttered.
I wandered into my living room, nearly tripping over coffee table for a record tenth time. I flopped onto the couch. I don't know how long I lay there staring aimlessly up at my ceiling. I felt like I should have been doing something, but I couldn't remove myself from the small comforting depths of the cushions. I didn't even try, actually. I wanted to stay there till I died.
The phone started ringing in the kitchen and I'm not sure how long it was before I even noticed. I got up and stumbled over a few more pizza boxes that had fallen to the floor. I picked up the phone thinking it was my father calling me back and I made sure my voice seemed as impatient as it could.
"What?" I barked.
"What is right," she growled back at me.
I stood there a second, blinking in my dark kitchen.
"Buffy?"
"Expecting someone else?" She asked.
Yes.
"No."
"Where did you go Xander?" She asked me. "Willow wanted to talk to you when we were going to leave but you were already gone."
"I wasn't feeling well," I said lamely. "I came home."
"You left a hospital because you weren't feeling well? You seem really out of it lately Xand," she said.
I could hear the concern in her voice. If she only knew.
"Have a lot of stuff on my mind," I said.
"Like what?"
"Stuff."
She got quiet for a second. I could hear her breathing on the other end. Some small part of me wanted to make her feel better. But it was too small to actually have made me do it.
"We may have a lead on the man that attacked her," she said, ending the silence.
"That's good."
"God Xander," she bit out. "Do you even care?"
"Of course I do," I said, my voice still sounding like a recording.
"Prove it," she said. "Be at the library in ten minutes."
She hung up before I could say anything more and I stood there, still holding the phone to my ear.
"Okay," I said to no one.
***
I got there in less than ten minutes because I took my father's car. Everyone was already there sitting around the main table. All their eyes watched me as I walked in. I seemed to be the last in line a lot lately. I don't think I ever felt so out of place in my life. Oz was there. I guess he thought it would better to help Willow by going with us. Good for him. I walked slowly over to them and sat down. They discussed the plan but I don't think I heard a word of it.
Willow was lying in the hospital.
And it was all my fault. She could have known, but I took her only protection away from her. I took the truth away.
My mouth opened and closed every other couple of seconds. I moved to speak and then I didn't.
Open. Close. Open. Close.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. It felt like a million sewing needles were stabbing me in the legs.
Tell them tell them tell them, my heart whispered into my ear.
Say nothing say nothing say nothing, my mind retorted.
You'd think this would be an easy choice.
Yeah, you would think that, wouldn't you? Just tell them everything. Open up the treasure chest of my mind and lay it all out on the table in front of them. Spill my guts. Cash in a couple million pennies for a couple million thoughts that have been in non-stop rotation in my brain for the past couple of weeks.
But don't you understand what the truth would do?
Do you have any fucking clue at all?
I'm a goddamn demon.
We *kill* goddamned demons.
I couldn't say a word. But there was a part of me that thought I could see a gray area. That I could protect the friends that aren't really supposed to be my friends. I could protect the father that is really a liar and a tyrant. I could protect all of us.
I could protect me. Who was really a coward.
The gray area reverted back to black and white.
Leaving me stuck in the middle.
"Xander?" Buffy said, grabbing my attention. Everyone was standing up and putting on their jackets and grabbing weapons. I didn't hear a single word about the plan but I jumped to my feet and quickly follow anyway. I didn't need any weapons. I had my own built right in. I grabbed some anyway.
No need to get sloppy now.
***
We found them in a dilapidated cabin, which looked more like a shack to me, in Breaker Woods, courtesy of Oz's nose.
And now we were fighting for our lives.
I'm not sure how it all happened, why suddenly I was sitting in a van one minute and sprinting toward some unknown destination with only the shadows of the night to guide me the next. Funny how it all came to this. How in the beginning it all seemed so cool and exciting to be fighting the fight between good and evil. And now it just seemed like reality bit you on the ass and took you for a roller coaster ride to hell.
We've all split up and switched off our flashlights, knowing it would better our chances of achieving surprise, and not thinking that it probably wouldn't help us at all. They were monsters like me. We were screwed. I had grabbed the hand of the person nearest me, who turned out to be Amy, and just took off running without even questioning the plan I'd never heard. Now she and I were struggling past the brush and scratchy braches, not hearing anything but our labored breaths and snaps of the tree branches crunching under our feet.
And suddenly I felt it again. A rush of energy straight to my head and a cold chill running down my spine. I stopped so suddenly Amy almost fell forward into a knocked over tree.
"What's wrong?" She asked, trying to catch her breath. "Xander, what are you doing? We should keep going..."
"We should split up," I found myself saying to her, and pulled my hand from hers.
"What?"
I couldn't see her face very well, but I knew she was looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped partly open in shock. She didn't want to be alone in the woods where seven-foot tall demons liked to play. She tried to grab my hand again.
"You go that way," I said. "It looks like there is more space to go through. I'll go the other way," I said, surprised at the calmness in my voice.
"Xander, are you nuts? That doesn't make any sense. Don't leave me alone out here!"
"Just *go*, Amy," I replied, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her towards a direction while I ran off to another. And now all I could hear was my own struggled breathing, my own footsteps crashing through piles of branches, my own heartbeat... nothing else. You'd think there'd be owls hooting or crickets chirping or that I could the faint shouts of Buffy and Giles or somebody, but I heard nothing but own movements against the cold and deadly silence.
My shoulders tensed as I felt him coming. I hoped Amy didn't run into one of these guys. I slowed down a little bit, so I was still running but at a deliberately milder pace. The coldness swarms my body at the loss of speed so I let my body charge with the energy inside just a small bit.
Wait.
What the hell was I doing?
Before I could even think to answer my own question, a massive hand grabbed my arm and threw me off the ground. The other hand smacked a big meaty fist against the back of my head and sent me down to the ground in pain and surprise. He didn't wait long before he pulled me up and held me by the shoulders. It was a split-second of a moment that we were able to get a look at each other in the dim moonlight.
He saw just exactly who I was. He smiled.
"You are not my Prince boy," he snarled.
He raised his fist to deliver a knockout blow but I snapped my hands to his neck before he could strike. It was such a small move, but I was surprised when he let his hand fall back to his side. I realize then that he knew what I was capable of. I even think he possibly regretted ever touching me.
And so it started.
I shut my eyes as I gripped his neck firmly. He struggled to get free of me, but it is already too late. He screamed in fear and called out for help to anyone who would listen, anyone who could hear him in the lifeless night.
I must admit.
It was kind of a rush to make giant monster such as him to revert to a sniveling baby with a single touch.
He started to cry out again but it was far, far too late. Anger and frustration and fury... every emotion that has consumed me in endless and continual nightmare torn and sleepless nights broke out of my repressed body.
I squeezed his neck tighter and tighter, willing the burning and tearing of the energy to torch the material of his body into a smoldering pile of ash and cinder. His cries for mercy got louder and louder, and many times he desperately called out ancient spells that paid him no mind. I saw a burst of light erupting from his stomach, and the explosion of several more from other areas of his body. I closed my eyes tighter to avoid the blinding glare that my power creates. And I still refused to let go despite the blistering heat that surrounded us and his wailing cries of pain. My smaller body held on to his more prominent one, and his failed attempt at killing me, and his rebellion against my father. I cried out too as his very existence was burned away at my hand.
I fell to ground when the last of him flickered away.
I felt so much pain building inside my head.
And then there was nothing.
I opened my eyes tentatively, and nothing but the black cloud of ash stood before me.
I fell on my back in exhaustion, collapsing further into silent blackness.
I had just killed another person.
It was justified.
At least that's what I tried to tell myself.
I don't know if I decided to take a nap or just seemed to pass out.
But I was grateful for the rest.