Author: Jane McCartney
Feedback: Don't make me beg for it. Oh hell, whatever: pleeeease? Pretty please? It'll just take a sec from ya! I really wanna know what you think about this particular fic.
Acknowledgments: Every beloved reviewer, and my beloved Theo. My fics are practically his work too. But probably not half as good as his own fics.
Author's note: This fic takes the movie "The Watcher", the one with James Spader and Keanu Reeves, as a reference - but you don't need to have watched the movie in order to follow this fic. It's probably better if you don't watch it after all, because you'll have more surprises that way.
Summary: As his health decreases and every trace of the man he used to be seems to be just a shade of an abandoned life, Xander finds out that he has to deal once again with the pain and quarrel of his past. Post S6 and S3, B/A crossover.
***
Yellow police tape with the legend [Crime Scene: Do Not Cross] written on it were obstructing the outside of the apartment that was located two floors below his own. A couple of policemen were guarding the door, as two detectives were apparently taking down details in a notebook.
The older one of them was a medium-sized man that weighed quite a few pounds and had gray-colored hair; he was wearing a reddish-brown suit and a slightly loose tie, with black leather shoes.
Detective William Sheppard stepped in Xander's way with a certain hostile attitude, a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips. "Wanna help, or are you just gonna look?"
"Actually, I just live here," Xander retorted dully, more than a little annoyed. He took out his wallet, and showed the police officer his identity.
William's smirk disappeared. "Do you know the woman that resided here?"
The dark-haired guy took a brief glance at the apartment, and the several policemen inside; they were a group at least of six men, from Xander's fleeting sideways glance.
"Is she dead?" he inquired, his eyes still deflected to the crime scene's direction.
"Nobody said anything about homicide," Sheppard replied a little smart- assedly, with an unemotional grin twisting just slightly the corners of his mouth.
"Yeah, well, the yellow tape? The dozen cops - who'll ruin the crime scene before forensics get here, by the way? Doesn't seem like a case of loud music to me," the former construction worker remarked sarcastically.
William Sheppard chuckled dryly, and took a card out of his pocket. "Here, call me if you happen to find out anything useful, would ya?"
Xander accepted the card, eyeing it rapidly and putting on his pocket. "I will," he said, continuing his way to his upstairs apartment without looking back at the older man.
Sheppard eyed him suspiciously as Xander climbed up the stairs, and then the detective was once more dragged into a conversation about the crime scene with the other police officer.
***
Xander closed the door, and tossed the apartment's keys onto the small table inattentively; the dark-colored wooden board was in the shape of a rectangle, and its small size was obviously meant for only a single person to utilize.
The former Slayerette walked into the kitchen and took a can of Coke out of the fridge, opening its metallic ring and taking a sip of the drink.
Xander closed his eyes tight for a moment, and opening the sink's tap he splashed the flowing water on his face.
The Coke was forgotten on the kitchen's counter practically intact while the guy re-entered the living room, a pile of unopened correspondence catching his attention. Xander grabbed the pile and sat back on the couch, turning on the TV.
Nothing especially interesting was on, so he finally ended up settling on a rerun of some old do-it-yourself cooking show.
The dark-haired man wasn't actually paying attention at all to the show being hosted by a bald and elegant man with a strong Latin accent and a slender, odd-looking moustache; his attention, as a matter of fact, was being focussed on something different than grilled chicken with cinnamon sauce.
~ Flashback ~
Xander came through the front door, and moved towards Anya. At the other end of the room, the former demoness stood up, sleepy in her pajamas and seemingly startled and confused by her boyfriend's sudden entrance.
In an urgent and heartfelt voice, the dark-haired guy started to speak, soft brown eyes fixed on her hazel ones. "I need to say something to you. I should have said it a long time ago. I mean, you may not even know..."
Xander continued, in a mix of despair and passion, "I love you, Anya, more every day. I love the way you see things. I love the way you work a cash register, and how beautiful you are - and how amazingly sweet and crazy you can be at the same time..."
By her side, the young man took her face in his hands, while Anya cried joyful tears.
"I can't imagine my life without you - and I wouldn't want to," Xander whispered adoringly, leaning in to kiss Anya deeply and passionately.
~ End of Flashback ~
"No, no, don't!" Xander cried out in an agonizing explosion, violently tossing the correspondence in his hand to the floor.
The dark-haired man rushed to the bathroom and threw up. Brushing his mouth, Xander slowly got to his feet and took three pills from a bottle.
And the only witness of his sorrow was his own reflection, staring back at him in the bathroom mirror with eyes filled by guilt and revulsion.
~ Flashback ~
The fleeting seconds that Xander stood still, blankly looking at the immobile woman tied up in the chair, seemed the longest of his life; the fear, a breath-taking one, instantly paralyzing him to that very spot.
However, her small, scared voice quickly made him snap out of his trance.
"Xander?!" the woman cried, and then continued with a stronger but no less shaky voice, "Xander? Xander, is that you?"
The Slayerette hurried to her side, untying the blonde woman's wrists and ankles. "It's me, honey, everything's gonna be okay, it's me," he reassured her, allowing a small smile of relief to appear on his lips as he whispered once more, passing a gentle handle through her blond locks of hair, "Everything's gonna be okay..."
Still half-tied, Anya sobbed into her husband's chest. "Please..."
Xander heard a noise and asked in an alarmed voice, "Is he still here?"
"No. Xander, stay with me," the former demoness pleaded, looking into his eyes. "Please, stay with me..."
"I'm gonna end this whole thing right now!" the enraged guy almost snarled, running in the direction of a movement seen out of the corner of his eye; it was the man somehow climbing down to the street, through the apartment's windows.
"No more of your frickin' games, do ya hear me, you sick bastard?! No more!" the carpenter kept on screaming, while frenetically pursuing the stranger along Sunnydale's streets.
But what Xander didn't notice while leaving the apartment in his frenzied chase was that there were several red candles lying the floor, and one of them had been lit... and the fire started to vigorously consume the curtains, the flames quickly multiplying across the entire living area of the urban residence.
~ End of Flashback ~
Xander woke up two hours later, to find himself passed out on the living room floor.
Groaning while standing up, the guy said to himself while a little dazed, "Did somebody get the number plate of the truck that just hit me?"
As the headache's power seemed to intensify strenuously while he got up, the former carpenter muttered crustily, "OK, obviously that was damn well more than just a truck..."
However, these unanticipated spasms had become routine now in Xander's new life; there was simply no reason to regard what had happened with any special concern.
The dark-haired man rubbed his temples and just shrugged it off, with a final groan.
Something then caught his attention, and Xander bent down to pick up one of the letters he had carelessly tossed away last night; it was a white envelope, and it had written an 'Urgent' sign on its top.
Xander went to the kitchen with the envelope in his hands, and grabbed a carton of milk; he hadn't actually eaten since the previous afternoon, and the first rays of sunlight already shone in Los Angeles now.
Drinking the milk directly from the carton on his way from the kitchen to the living room once more, the young man started to clean up last night's mess from the floor and toss it neglectfully on the couch.
The former Slayerette then sat at the table and finished his milk, resting the empty box on the wooden surface. His eyes fell onto the envelope, and he opened it with a hint of curiosity.
With a bitter grin, Xander gazed at the envelope's contents; inside it, there was a young woman's picture, with the date and hour of the photograph on its lower corner.
It had been taken three days ago, at 9:03 p.m.
And the young woman in the picture was his downstairs neighbor, a pretty red-haired woman that had been found dead only hours ago.
***
Should I continue this? Really, I get the feeling people are just hating it...
Feedback: Don't make me beg for it. Oh hell, whatever: pleeeease? Pretty please? It'll just take a sec from ya! I really wanna know what you think about this particular fic.
Acknowledgments: Every beloved reviewer, and my beloved Theo. My fics are practically his work too. But probably not half as good as his own fics.
Author's note: This fic takes the movie "The Watcher", the one with James Spader and Keanu Reeves, as a reference - but you don't need to have watched the movie in order to follow this fic. It's probably better if you don't watch it after all, because you'll have more surprises that way.
Summary: As his health decreases and every trace of the man he used to be seems to be just a shade of an abandoned life, Xander finds out that he has to deal once again with the pain and quarrel of his past. Post S6 and S3, B/A crossover.
***
Yellow police tape with the legend [Crime Scene: Do Not Cross] written on it were obstructing the outside of the apartment that was located two floors below his own. A couple of policemen were guarding the door, as two detectives were apparently taking down details in a notebook.
The older one of them was a medium-sized man that weighed quite a few pounds and had gray-colored hair; he was wearing a reddish-brown suit and a slightly loose tie, with black leather shoes.
Detective William Sheppard stepped in Xander's way with a certain hostile attitude, a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips. "Wanna help, or are you just gonna look?"
"Actually, I just live here," Xander retorted dully, more than a little annoyed. He took out his wallet, and showed the police officer his identity.
William's smirk disappeared. "Do you know the woman that resided here?"
The dark-haired guy took a brief glance at the apartment, and the several policemen inside; they were a group at least of six men, from Xander's fleeting sideways glance.
"Is she dead?" he inquired, his eyes still deflected to the crime scene's direction.
"Nobody said anything about homicide," Sheppard replied a little smart- assedly, with an unemotional grin twisting just slightly the corners of his mouth.
"Yeah, well, the yellow tape? The dozen cops - who'll ruin the crime scene before forensics get here, by the way? Doesn't seem like a case of loud music to me," the former construction worker remarked sarcastically.
William Sheppard chuckled dryly, and took a card out of his pocket. "Here, call me if you happen to find out anything useful, would ya?"
Xander accepted the card, eyeing it rapidly and putting on his pocket. "I will," he said, continuing his way to his upstairs apartment without looking back at the older man.
Sheppard eyed him suspiciously as Xander climbed up the stairs, and then the detective was once more dragged into a conversation about the crime scene with the other police officer.
***
Xander closed the door, and tossed the apartment's keys onto the small table inattentively; the dark-colored wooden board was in the shape of a rectangle, and its small size was obviously meant for only a single person to utilize.
The former Slayerette walked into the kitchen and took a can of Coke out of the fridge, opening its metallic ring and taking a sip of the drink.
Xander closed his eyes tight for a moment, and opening the sink's tap he splashed the flowing water on his face.
The Coke was forgotten on the kitchen's counter practically intact while the guy re-entered the living room, a pile of unopened correspondence catching his attention. Xander grabbed the pile and sat back on the couch, turning on the TV.
Nothing especially interesting was on, so he finally ended up settling on a rerun of some old do-it-yourself cooking show.
The dark-haired man wasn't actually paying attention at all to the show being hosted by a bald and elegant man with a strong Latin accent and a slender, odd-looking moustache; his attention, as a matter of fact, was being focussed on something different than grilled chicken with cinnamon sauce.
~ Flashback ~
Xander came through the front door, and moved towards Anya. At the other end of the room, the former demoness stood up, sleepy in her pajamas and seemingly startled and confused by her boyfriend's sudden entrance.
In an urgent and heartfelt voice, the dark-haired guy started to speak, soft brown eyes fixed on her hazel ones. "I need to say something to you. I should have said it a long time ago. I mean, you may not even know..."
Xander continued, in a mix of despair and passion, "I love you, Anya, more every day. I love the way you see things. I love the way you work a cash register, and how beautiful you are - and how amazingly sweet and crazy you can be at the same time..."
By her side, the young man took her face in his hands, while Anya cried joyful tears.
"I can't imagine my life without you - and I wouldn't want to," Xander whispered adoringly, leaning in to kiss Anya deeply and passionately.
~ End of Flashback ~
"No, no, don't!" Xander cried out in an agonizing explosion, violently tossing the correspondence in his hand to the floor.
The dark-haired man rushed to the bathroom and threw up. Brushing his mouth, Xander slowly got to his feet and took three pills from a bottle.
And the only witness of his sorrow was his own reflection, staring back at him in the bathroom mirror with eyes filled by guilt and revulsion.
~ Flashback ~
The fleeting seconds that Xander stood still, blankly looking at the immobile woman tied up in the chair, seemed the longest of his life; the fear, a breath-taking one, instantly paralyzing him to that very spot.
However, her small, scared voice quickly made him snap out of his trance.
"Xander?!" the woman cried, and then continued with a stronger but no less shaky voice, "Xander? Xander, is that you?"
The Slayerette hurried to her side, untying the blonde woman's wrists and ankles. "It's me, honey, everything's gonna be okay, it's me," he reassured her, allowing a small smile of relief to appear on his lips as he whispered once more, passing a gentle handle through her blond locks of hair, "Everything's gonna be okay..."
Still half-tied, Anya sobbed into her husband's chest. "Please..."
Xander heard a noise and asked in an alarmed voice, "Is he still here?"
"No. Xander, stay with me," the former demoness pleaded, looking into his eyes. "Please, stay with me..."
"I'm gonna end this whole thing right now!" the enraged guy almost snarled, running in the direction of a movement seen out of the corner of his eye; it was the man somehow climbing down to the street, through the apartment's windows.
"No more of your frickin' games, do ya hear me, you sick bastard?! No more!" the carpenter kept on screaming, while frenetically pursuing the stranger along Sunnydale's streets.
But what Xander didn't notice while leaving the apartment in his frenzied chase was that there were several red candles lying the floor, and one of them had been lit... and the fire started to vigorously consume the curtains, the flames quickly multiplying across the entire living area of the urban residence.
~ End of Flashback ~
Xander woke up two hours later, to find himself passed out on the living room floor.
Groaning while standing up, the guy said to himself while a little dazed, "Did somebody get the number plate of the truck that just hit me?"
As the headache's power seemed to intensify strenuously while he got up, the former carpenter muttered crustily, "OK, obviously that was damn well more than just a truck..."
However, these unanticipated spasms had become routine now in Xander's new life; there was simply no reason to regard what had happened with any special concern.
The dark-haired man rubbed his temples and just shrugged it off, with a final groan.
Something then caught his attention, and Xander bent down to pick up one of the letters he had carelessly tossed away last night; it was a white envelope, and it had written an 'Urgent' sign on its top.
Xander went to the kitchen with the envelope in his hands, and grabbed a carton of milk; he hadn't actually eaten since the previous afternoon, and the first rays of sunlight already shone in Los Angeles now.
Drinking the milk directly from the carton on his way from the kitchen to the living room once more, the young man started to clean up last night's mess from the floor and toss it neglectfully on the couch.
The former Slayerette then sat at the table and finished his milk, resting the empty box on the wooden surface. His eyes fell onto the envelope, and he opened it with a hint of curiosity.
With a bitter grin, Xander gazed at the envelope's contents; inside it, there was a young woman's picture, with the date and hour of the photograph on its lower corner.
It had been taken three days ago, at 9:03 p.m.
And the young woman in the picture was his downstairs neighbor, a pretty red-haired woman that had been found dead only hours ago.
***
Should I continue this? Really, I get the feeling people are just hating it...