Title: Between Shadows (Episode VIII: …and Nothing Else Matters) part 2/4

Author: Scb047 (scb047@hotmail.com)

Summary: After Dawn's abduction, Xander starts down a path he took long ago with Buffy, hoping to finally quiet the ghosts that have been plaguing him, and maybe finally make the last stand he wished he'd taken years ago.

Distribution: Distribute away, no permission required.

Feedback: Please do.

Disclaimer: If you want to sue me, first you gotta catch me. Long live the joys of copyright infringements!!! Avenge Napster!!! We remember…

Special thanks to Calen Hawk for the Beta Reading.

*** Author's note: Because I have found it impossible to convey melody through simple text, I've been forced to deviate slightly from my original course, which was to have Xander sing an original song in the following scene. Given that, I've been reduced to pillage a song by a famous band, which for the purpose of this alternate universe, have died in a horrible plane crash sometime before the production of this single. Therefore the said song is now the sole property of Xander Harris rather fertile imagination. You should also be warned that the lyrics have been changed slightly to better fit our anti-hero's situation. Proper credits for this amazing song by this wonderful group, shall be given at the end of this part, not that I believe any introductions shall be needed.***

Chapter two: Couldn't Be Much More From the Heart

The "Jagged Razor" was quiet, but not unusually so for that time of day. The bright afternoon sun snuck through the spray-can painted windows, revealing the disturbing world of underground musicians. Hangover city, as that time of day was called, was between the two pm opening, and six pm happy hour, and only die hard regulars roamed the place, people whose blood alcohol were locked at a precise, constant level. Fixed like woodwork and clocks, ticking always to the same reliable drunken melody, spurting out blurbs and old arguments at predetermined intervals. Most of them looked as green as the walls, its paint slowly chipping, revealing thin white boards underneath. The bar in its entirety was a succession of small rooms, which were oddly out of level with one another.

Normally, hopeful bands would have been on the stage, practicing for their big gig later that night, but not today. If they were lucky, that gig might earn them enough praise from a disinterested crowd to last a lifetime. The memories would endure long after the group would inevitably break up over the creative differences of sleeping with the bassman's slut girlfriend, and that was certainly something to look forward to. That day however, it happened the lead singer's much too precocious heroine addiction was getting in the way of practice, and the near empty bar grooved instead to the sound of a local FM station.

Suddenly, sunlight tore through the place like metal through flesh, the outline of a man standing in the doorway, a precious shield to the bartender's eyes. With a whine the door closed behind the man as he moved up to the bar. His pace was slow and uncertain; he even stopped for a moment to take in a deep breath. The smell of cigarette. The hint of marijuana. He'd been away from this place far too long.

"Xander," said the bartender without much intonation, "you're not looking too good there. You're not high on something I hope, I thought you didn't touch the stuff."

"Oh I touch, I touch pretty much anything I can get my hands on. Come to think of it, that's probably the story of my life." Xander stopped for a moment as he carefully observed his pale reflection in the bar's mirror. "Get me a drink would you, Sal? Anything."

The substance had a greenish color and a taste to match, but Xander ordered another one before Sal ever had time to ask him to pay for the first. "We haven't seen much of you lately. What have you been up to pal? Ladies keepin' you busy?"

Xander's chuckle was a disturbing response, and Sal suddenly noticed just how different the young man seemed from just a few months back. "Oh, you have no idea."

"So how about you tell me about it?"

"No," answered Xander, finishing his second glass, "no, I don't think so Sal. I think I'd rather just…" Xander leaned back on his stool to peer at the empty stage, "actually, I was wondering if I could, you know, maybe get on stage, since nobody's using it."

"Sure. You want to play for free, go for it. I've been loosing business since you've stopped coming here."

The feel of the guitar, the string trembling under his fingers, felt just about as right as Xander could feel at the moment. Sorting out his feelings with logic and words, as with most people, wasn't exactly Xander's cup of tea. It was much easier for him to just pour it out on "Betsy", Giles' acoustic guitar he'd given to Xander shortly after his return from hell, shortly after Buffy's death. Buffy. The name made Xander stop and consider his sanity for a moment. The name was a dagger in the neck, his heart much too black and cold, to feel the pain of a stab.

Xander was frozen for a moment, staring at the pine neck of his instrument. He'd never realized it before today, but that's why Giles had given it to him. It was a precious instrument of salvation, a veiled therapeutic gift that had probably saved him from himself, allowed him over time to escape the violence and the pain. It was all back now, and Xander couldn't help but picture Faith as the words came to him.

"How long how long will I slide

Separate my side I don't

I don't believe it's bad

Slit my throat

It's all I ever

"I heard your voice through a photograph

I thought it up it brought up the past

Once you know you can never go back

I've got to take it on the other side

"Centuries are what it meant to me

A cemetery where I married the thief

Stranger things could never change my mind

I've got to take it on the other side

Take it on the other side

Take it on

Take it on

"How long how long will I slide

Separate my side I don't

I don't believe it's bad

Slit my throat

It's all I ever

"Pour my life into a paper cup

The ashtray's full and I'm spillin' my guts

She wants to know am I still a slut

I've got to take it on the other side

"Scarlet starlet and she's in my bed

A candidate for my soul mate bled

Push the trigger and pull the thread

I've got to take it on the other side

Take it on the other side

Take it on

Take it on

"How long how long will I slide

Separate my side I don't

I don't believe it's bad

Slit my throat

It's all I ever

"Turn me on take me for a hard ride

Burn me out leave me on the other side

I yell and tell it that

It's not my friend

I tear it down I tear it down

And then it's born again

"How long how long will I slide

Separate my side I don't

I don't believe it's bad

Slit my throat

It's all I ever

"How long I don't believe it's bad

Slit my throat

It's all I ever"

The last words escaped his mouth and still Xander could picture her, uncertain what fire was consuming him. The near empty room still echoed with his emotions, and he couldn't shake a feeling of dryness in his mouth. He thirsted for solace. He burned for another drink, his body strangely numb, as if it were trying to catch up with his heart. Nor peace nor resolve came over him, and instead the successive clapping of a pair of hands broke the silence in which he had momentarily sought to find refuge.

"That was amazing, kid." Xander's eyes traveled up the hand that was extended in front of him to finally rest upon a middle-aged man dressed in a gray suit. Friendly eyes stared back at Xander, but suspicious, he didn't move to shake the stranger's hand. "The name's Gullberg. I work for Virgin Records. You heard of us, I hope."

"Yeah…" Xander answered absent-mindedly. "Oh… I'm Xander… Xander Harris."

"I know, the bartender told me," answer Gullberg as he took a moment to evaluate Xander. "I was down here waiting around to see a prospective band play, "Flying Bastard Monkey" you ever heard of them?"

"God I hope not."

Gullberg chuckled before continuing on, "Yeah, I know. Well the point is I was waiting around and then you showed up. I'm going to make this simple kid, I was just listening to you and—Wow! I mean, I see dozens of bands every week, and most of them are kids bitching about how their girlfriends left them or something. But you, you're something fresh. You sound like you've lived a bit; know what I mean?"

"Excuse me," interrupted Xander, suddenly intrigued, "but what exactly are you telling me, here?"

"I'm saying I'm sitting across the room watching you play, and I'm seeing just one color, and it's Platinum."

"You got to be fucking kidding me," answered Xander dumbfounded.

"No, I'm dead serious. You got a voice and a hell of strumming hand, but it's not just the music. The clothes, the scar, the attitude. You're already a rock star, and the best thing is, you're not fake. You're the real deal!."

"Wait," said Xander, suddenly feeling his heart palpitating, "are you saying…"

"I'm saying I want you in a recording studio by the end of this week, I want you to record a demo. We're going to find you some guys, a drummer, a bassist, get you to meet some people, work with them, see what you can come up with. If it's half as good as what I heard today, you got yourself a recording contract, Xander."

Xander suddenly chuckled, "this can't be real. You want to sign me? No way, I don't have what it takes, I'm just a—"

"You're just the best thing I've seen in the last ten years. You sign with me, and I'll make you a superstar. What do you say?"

"What do I say?" exclaimed Xander, completely swept by the moment. The expression on his face was of a million dollar winner. Suddenly, the worthless no-good son of Mr. Harris was special. Suddenly success was knocking on his door. He could already picture himself, coming back home to rub his fame in his parents face, in the face of all the kids that had made fun of him in high school. "I say hell y… hell" The word "hell" coming from his mouth halted his speech like a brick wall. Suddenly, images of a crowd shouting his name in admiration were replaced by that of Dawn and Faith, scurrying along the edge of the Styx. Suddenly, Xander grew pale again, as the excitation faded to resolve.

"I'm sorry what was that?"

"I… I'm sorry Mr. Gullberg, but I don't think I'm going…"

"Are you kidding me, son? Most people would sell their soul for this."

"I know, it's just… it's complicated."

"I'm not sure you're getting me though. I'm talking about a three album deal, at the least."

"I understand, Mr. Gullberg, it's just…I'm not sure I'm interested."

"Well," shrugged Gullberg, "if you ever change you're mind, and trust me you should, call me." The executive placed his card in Xander's hand, and disappeared slowly the way he came, his head shaking in disappointment. Xander didn't see him leave though, as his eyes were squarely fixed on the card. His finger traced carefully the lines of the raised font, but the blackness of the letters and all the dark thoughts it could have conjured was lost on him. Instead, it was the white paper that had his attention, mocking in all its purity. Mocking White. Blank like a slate he would never get, wiped away like all the dreams he could almost grasp. Blank like the ashes of his innocence, blowing away in the hot wind of a place he always knew it would see again.

Ashes stung Faith eyes as she stood motionless before the wicked wind, or perhaps it was just an excuse she gave herself for eventually turning away. Dawn watched her quietly, knowing what debate was raging inside her friend. She ran her tongue across her dry lips as she tried again to come up with some magnificent speech that would give that final nudge to Faith's somewhat timid conscience.

"Why don't I both save you some time," the terrifying voice needed little introduction, but Dawn and Faith both gasped when they turned toward its point of origin. In all their lives, in all the descriptions, they could never have imagined the terrifying image standing seven feet tall. Instantly, they jerked back, Faith even loosing her footing and finding herself scurrying backward a few more feet. Dawn would have run if she herself had not been seized with panic, she would have jumped off the cliff, would have used Faith as a human shield, anything to get away from the monstrosity standing a few paces from her. But no distance would ever have sufficed, no wall thick enough, or slayer strong enough to reassure Dawn she would ever be safe again. "I know, quite terrifying aren't I? What, no snappy comeback? I suppose I should have expected that the resemblance to your sister, Mrs. Summers, would have ended with that precious blood those monks created you from."

The silence could not have been more deafening. Slowly, Faith managed to get back on her feet, regaining her nerve somewhat faster than her friend. Gone were the tears, and back was the tough girl attitude. "So," she stopped a moment to swallow, "you're the Asmodeus guy."

"Yes, I'm the Asmodeus guy," the archdemon answered with a grin, "and as I was saying, let me save you both some time. Mrs. Summers was about to say 'Faith, please, this isn't the time for an emotional debate. Trust me, please, just trust me,'" For a moment, the voice coming from the dreadful mouth was Dawn's, and Asmodeus paused only for a beat before imitating Faith's own. "And I believe Faith's response would have been 'Alright, lil sis', let's get the hell out of here.' I have to say Faith, I'm sorely disappointed, I would have hoped you could come up with something more interesting than a tiresome unimaginative pun."

The two women exchanged a shocked look as they realized, it was exactly what they had been preparing themselves to say. They drew back yet again as the archdemon took a few step forward. "Godhood," offered Asmodeus as explanation for his precognition, "you should try it sometime."

"Alright, so what now?" asked Faith defiantly, or at least trying to be defiant, the fear in her voice taking away from her fierceness.

"Now, you follow me to the Styx. This way." His arm was outstretched toward a slope that hadn't been there a few moments before. Suddenly, the Styx that had been hours from them, far beyond their horizon, was a mere five minutes away.

"What if we…" started Faith before being cut off.

"Refuse?" finished Asmodeus before scoffing, "Pleaassse. I am a god. Follow me." The considerable command in his voice was not the reason both women promptly followed. Suddenly their bodies weren't theirs to control, or at least, it was as if their legs had grew will of their own.

"Faith?" asked Dawn terrified.

"'Don't worry Dawny,'" answered Asmodeus before Faith could even think about reacting, "'just wait until I make my move, then make a break for it.' Oh wait, that's right, you were the one who was suppose to whisper that." Asmodeus' laugh was like a thousand screaming lamb. "Though, while we're on the subject, perhaps it would be best if you tried now."

"What?" answered Dawn, completely confused.

"To escape of course. To do what you've been debating doing ever since you've seen me. To give in to that primal urge to abandon Faith, which in all rights you should. She's where she belongs now, and I certainly mean her no harm. Go. Escape. Fly little bird, use those precious wings of yours."

"Dawn," interrupted Faith, almost breathless, "I don't know what he's talking about, but if you can escape do it. Do it now, Dawn!"

"But I can't leave you…"

"Do it!" yelled Faith as loud as she could. Dawn shook as she stared at her friend. Conflicted and filled with disbelief, Dawn couldn't choose, but terror has a way of breaking a tie. And suddenly, before Faith's eyes, Dawn simply vanished.

"Full of surprise, isn't she?" Asmodeus grin was as terrible as he was.

"Fear?" asked Buffy with a confused expression.

"Yes," answered Giles, "I'm afraid some have gone mad just from watching drawings, representation of what an archdemon is reported to look like. It is said that anyone who's been so unlucky as to gaze upon such a beast, has carried the vision for the rest of their usually very short lives. These beings just naturally project a sense of pure dread, as if they were made of that very fabric."

"So what, do I close my eyes while I fight it?" asked Buffy in her usually light humorous approach. The joke however failed to registered with a particularly tense Giles.

"No Buffy, you seem to have completely misunderstood what I've been trying desperately to make you understand. You don't fight this thing, the very concept of fighting it is absurd. You see this thing, and by God you run, hoping it hasn't notice you."

"Ah c'mon Giles…"

"Buffy, don't doubt my judgment on this. Of all things, do not disregard this one directive, do not engage that creature."

"So," interrupted Xander, biting into an apple. "This is purely a stealth mission, we take out the target, unseen, unheard."

"You don't do anything Xander," replied Giles, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "Buffy will go alone, she'll have less chances of being detected that way."

"Wait a minute, G-man, but I, for probably the first time since we all been doing the Scooby thing, am probably better suited for this than Buffy. I mean, special force here, I think I got the stealth thing down."

"You're not going Xander, it's too—" started Buffy.

"Oh no," Xander shook his head, "we're not having this discussion again. Especially not since I've been spending the last year kicking ass and taking names."

"Xander," pleaded Buffy in her softest tone, "I know you can handle yourself, but you heard Giles, this isn't something you can help me defeat. As dangerous as you are, Xand, I'm a slayer, you're not. What chances would you have against it if I can't handle it?"

"I know, it's just… you know what, save it. You're not going in there without me, and that's final. Where you go, I go. Especially if it's a quasi-suicidal mission."

"Hey," interjected Faith from the window's ledge where she had been sitting. Staring at her dark reflection in the glass, she was sickened by Xander's chivalrous display of affection. "Why don't I go. I mean, I'm the logical choice, given the circumstance."

"What? What do you mean circumstances?" demanded Giles. Faith proceeded to jumped down from the ledge before proceeding toward the group. She took notice of Buffy's angry gaze, trying to silently command her to silence.

"I mean B. might not be in the best of fighting shape."

"Shut up, Faith!"

"What do you mean?" asked Xander suddenly confused.

"I mean…" Faith stopped as Buffy's eyes suddenly screamed one word: Please. For one moment, the raven-haired slayer deliberated, not sure what was the right thing to do, nor if she'd want to follow that course. Was the right thing to do to tell them all about the baby, assuring that the pregnant slayer wouldn't be allowed to risk her life, assuring she wouldn't bring Faith's Boy Toy along for the martyrdom ride. Faith wanted that very much, even if it meant she might be the one who'd have to die. At least Buffy wouldn't steal the show for once. At least, if she could never have Buffy's perfect life, she might get the chance to have the perfect death. On the other hand though, was the nagging sense of loyalty and the debt she felt she owed her fellow slayer for having put up with her thus far. "Do this for me," seemed to say Buffy's eyes "and all will truly be forgiven,".

"I mean, about the engagement and all," recovered Faith somewhat gauchely, but no one seemed to notice in the wake of the bittersweet news.

"She knows?" asked Xander, turning toward Buffy.

"Yeah, I told her while we were on patrol," answered Buffy in what was probably the best lying tone she'd ever taken, "I know you wanted us to tell everyone at once, but I couldn't help myself. I was so excited."

"Excited about what?" demanded Dawn with a smile. She felt palpitation as she anticipated the obvious.

"Earlier tonight, Xander asked me to marry me—huh, I mean him. Marry him. Hence the diamondy goodness of the ring on my finger."

"Oh my god! Buffy!" exclaimed Dawn as she rushed to her sister side to contemplate the jewel. Giles, for himself, was more restrained in his enthusiasm, wiping away his glasses with a sigh.

"I believe congratulation are in order," spoke Giles in a tired voice, "though the circumstances are hardly joyful."

"And that's what I'm saying I should be the one to go," chimed in Faith, not giving up on that particular part of the plan.  

"I'm afraid that's unfortunately out of the question," replied Giles before Buffy could protest, "not that I haven't, that we haven't come to trust you again Faith, but given your prior propensity for evil, there's no telling what influence hell's forces might have on you, how they might twist your perspective. It unfortunately makes you too unreliable for this mission, despite we need someone to guard the portal we'll be creating, as some things will no doubt attempt to escape."

"Sucks to be bad." Faith gave up reluctantly, quickly moving back to the window after throwing Buffy a disapproving look.

"Good. We're all agreed then," stated Xander, "Me and Buffy enter the Valley of Blood through the Kattimich Pass where our entrance won't be detected. We follow the Styx until we encounter the portal gate, we blow it up, run the hell back home. No time for sight seeing. The rest of you guys make sure we have a way back by the time we get there. Total time thirty minutes. Anybody has any questions?"

"Yeah," asked Dawn, raising her hand, "if we have a portal opened, isn't there a chance the archdemon thing might use it to sneak in?"

"No," answered Giles, "we're opening a low energy portal, it takes something considerably more powerful to transport something the likes of a god."

"One thing Giles," asked Buffy, "in case we don't have a choice, I mean if he's literally standing between us and the exit, is there anything we can use, any weaknesses we might exploit?"

Another sigh and Giles turned toward the table. After hesitating for one more moment, Giles then pulled away a cloth revealing an oddly shaped sword. Its curved edge made it somewhat resemble a katana, though the craftsmanship seemed oddly inhuman. The black pummel was carved out of the bone of a foreign beast, and pictured hundred of finely detailed bodies, writing in pain, death and decay. Giles pulled the blade from its scabbard, revealing the total blackness of it. It seemed as if light itself was absorbed by it.

"I was debating whether to give you this. I was afraid that if I did, you might be more inclined to use it."

"What is it Giles?"

"This is a darkblade, the weapon of choice of noble demons, a caste set apart from the rest. This one was recovered from something referred to in my writing as a demon knight. It's the only the council ever recovered, the only one of its kind."

"Cool. What does it do?" With a light swipe of the wrist, Giles answered all of Buffy's question, the blade slashing through a nearby column as if it had been made of butter.

"It'll cut through practically anything. Demons can't regenerate the wounds it causes, at least not as fast. Save from this blade, Asmodeus will most likely be impervious to your attacks, but Buffy, again you cannot hope to defeat a creature of--"

"Can't win—got it. Now give me the shiny weapon of death. Pretty please."

**** For those who haven't guessed it, the song plagiarized by Xander (though without his knowledge I assure youJ ) is none other than "Otherside" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The verse "marry the sea" was changed to "married the thief" to better reflect Faith's influence on Xander.*******