Title: The Observer
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. B/A crossover.
***
Xander just stood there for a second, the telephone absent-mindedly being held at his ear. Urges to either throw up, hit something so hard his hands would bleed or just shout as loud as his lungs would allow to started to build up inside him; his innards being invaded by a combination of shock, daze and tartness.
As the cold voice echoed in his mind, again and again and again, the former carpenter felt like not being in the real world anymore, or finally returning to it - it was a strange, oddly familiar feeling that he couldn't quite make up his mind about.
The stranger's voice wasn't sarcastic, but instead a even more chilly truth- speaking tone when he said, "Cat got your tongue, pal? I thought you'd have something to say, you know - it's not every day a guy leaves town without telling their friends. And after all we've been through? You just brush me off as if it meant nothing? That really hurt my feelings, Xander."
Xander Harris came out of his trance and replied, his voice nonchalant yet filled with an undeniable hint of spite, "To be absolutely honest, I couldn't care less about your feelings. So let's just cut to the chase and you tell me whatever psycho crap you've got to say this time, so we can end this fast and clean, you crackpot."
The dark-haired guy heard a sigh from the other side of the line. "I don't know why you keep trying to brush me off, Xander - hiding, sneaking off on me. That's just not considerate - I really thought you'd have understood by now."
"Is that all the loony chitchat you've got for today? 'Cause I can gladly live without it," Xander sneered, trying to control the tenseness increasing inside him.
The unknown man ignored that. "What did you think of the redhead? She was truly something, wasn't she?"
"If you're not saying anything relevant, I'll hang up," the former Slayerette threatened the other man in a weary voice, tired of this endless game; his eyes absent-mindedly fixed on the blank TV.
"Come on, you're no fun!" the stranger's voice cried out briskly.
The Observer continued, in a lower, more somber voice, "I tried to move on, ya know? After you left, I thought about starting a new life - see the world, write a book, plant a tree or something. Just follow the frickin' manual, right? But it didn't work out so well... there was just no fire, no passion, y'know? So, I thought I could cut you some slack, and see if we can start making amends..."
At the maniacal and heartfelt confession, Xander asked, more alarmed and careful yet maintaining the cold tone, knowing he'd have to play the psycho's game, "What are you trying to say?"
After a draw-out silence and a slightly impatient sigh, the foreign voice spoke again, "I'll send you a picture of a girl, and I'm giving you the 9:00 p.m. deadline. You find her, you save her. You don't find her, I kill her."
Startled by the insane plan, the dark-haired guy took a second to come around. "If I can't find her... then it's my fault she'll die," he repeated slowly.
A chuckle, from the other end of the line. "I'm leaving the interpretations up to you, buddy. You call it as you see it." The voice continued in a impassioned tone, "We're gonna make it through, ya know? We're gonna save our friendship. I really believe we will, Xander."
"You freakin' bastard," Xander simply whispered after a bitter and brief chuckle, distressed.
Seemingly hurt, the unknown man exploded, "You know, I'm so goddamn tired of being the only one who gives a shit about us; you with your complaints, and bitching - that can be so exhausting to deal with sometimes! You just can't see it, can't you?"
After a few seconds, the voice came back in a more collected and cold tone, "You've got until nine. Clock's ticking, Xander."
"Wait, wait, when am I getting the picture?" the former Slayerette inquired frantically, knowing the conversation was soon to be ended by the stranger and trying to get as much information as possible.
"You'll know," the simple reply came, followed by a 'click' on the phone.
***
Xander slowly put the phone back on its cradle, and just stood still for a moment.
All of a sudden, the former carpenter just felt like he couldn't take it anymore and started to throw all the objects around him in a sudden beserker rage. He felt like a drowning victim that was slowly sinking deeper and deeper, aware of the fact the bottom of the sea was just getting more and more distant.
The sound of a glassy cup falling hard on the floor and breaking into millions of little sharp pieces didn't seem to alarm Xander, nor did the shouts from the next door neighbor to knock it off.
Managing to stagger forward, Xander entered his private chambers and fell, barely managing to support himself on the bed before falling to the floor. He tried to pull out the needle from his bureau drawer, but closed his eyes after realizing his failure.
With his eyes half-open and, as the pain started to become his entire world and the images around him began to fade away into darkness, the dark-haired guy almost miraculously managed to drag himself into the living room once again. Xander then picked up the telephone that had been shoved away during his explosion.
And as his fingers dialed a telephone number absent-mindedly, the only thought on Xander's mind was of that of an October night, about two years ago.
~ Flashback ~
The seconds were timeless, the practically impossible speed of his steps was incredible as the anger and distress finally came up as one, powerfully rising inside the current FBI collaborator and giving him an almost supernatural strength.
He couldn't handle it anymore - the insane gifts, the cards, the overwhelming guilt. Even knowing he wasn't at fault by any standards, Xander couldn't shove away from his mind that feeling of overwhelming guilt.
All the blood on the murdered girls' bodies; their empty, lifeless eyes staring blankly into the void; three lives brutally ruined in Sunnydale; all of this, in his name... no, it had to come to an end - all of this, it had to end and end now.
After all he had gone through during these harsh seven years, there was just no way he'd let a psycho tear his life apart like this one minute longer.
After a good five meters of running, Xander acknowledged the abrupt stop of the stranger on the other side of the street with one of his own, that almost made him lose his equilibrium.
The stranger's face was hidden by the shadows of the darkened sky; and the roadway was the only separation between the two men. A few cars occasionally passed by, making Xander cover his eyes from the effulgent headlights.
And that was when the ground quivered with a rocky strength and the powerful noise of the explosion echoed with incredible potency, the sound making Xander automatically turn to look for its origin.
Finally realizing the noisy outburst was originated from the very same apartment complex where he had shared one of the most important parts of his life with his wife, Xander just felt like he'd never be able to move, or breathe ever again.
"You know," the man on the other side of the roadway yelled, as the dark- haired guy barely registered, at the moment, the words that would be carved deeply into his soul for the rest of the life. "She was just getting between the two of us - she had to be taken out..."
The current FBI collaborator looked slowly at the shadowy silhouette, still paralyzed as the significance of the happenings still seemed hazy to him.
The voice, now, held a strong pang of rage and even amusement. "I gave you a chance, pal... but it was your choice to come after me - remember that, Xander! It was your choice!"
The outburst of contradictory feelings hit the dark-haired guy so strongly and abruptly that, for a second, Xander really felt he'd collapse. However, the denial overwhelmed any other sentiment of guilt, pain, exhaustion, lost or hatred, and gave him enough strength to turn around and start running like the barrier of time and space didn't exist anymore.
The only thing Xander knew right then was that he had to be there, he had to save her, he knew there was still time - there had to be, it was just as simple as that.
In his lively run, the only sound that filled Xander's mind was the blazing one of the fire consuming the building.
~ End of Flashback ~
His world was filled by the endless recollections of that night, when his body finally gave in to oblivion and nightmares overtook his dreams; the telephone was at his side, as a voice echoed from the other end of line, unaware of the scene taking place at the apartment.
"Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?"
***
It was only her second week on the job and Cathy was already bored out of her mind, absent-mindedly playing with a lock of hair.
Cathy was twenty-five, and the owner of gracious, refreshing intelligence. She was almost six feet tall and her hair, short and blond, was held up by a stylish plastic strip. Her eyes, a dark hazel, were hidden behind a set of heavy spectacles, outlined by black frames.
The truth was, there was nothing really special about her. She was just an ordinary girl, with no characteristics that'd especially distinguish her - in a crowd, she'd pass by unnoticed.
Gaining momentum with her feet, the pretty young blonde made the store's chair, which had wheels underneath, roll in a semi-circle. The girl moved along with the furniture, her feet stroking the floor.
Suddenly, in the middle of a drawn-out yawn, the young woman's sideways glance saw a customer entering the store, and she clumsily composed herself to stand up, quickly shoving a loose lock of blond hair behind her ear.
The client had the appearance of a healthy guy, in good shape. His physique was well defined and he had a silky, straight hair, whose longish locks were a brown color. His skin was slightly pale, and his eyes were a captivating green, with hints of gray and blue, the variation seen by the occasional illumination.
Dusting her jeans overalls with her hands, Cathy gave the young man an apologetic smile, and said, "Sorry, I was a little spaced out."
The man returned her apology with a soft chuckle. "That's not a problem at all."
Cathy smiled again, and raised her two eyebrows in expectance with a tilt of her head. "So... how can I help you, sir?"
"Oh no, please, no sir. Just call me Jay," he retorted with a smile and, for a second, locking eyes with hers.
Cathy, a little taken aback by the young man's enchanting look, offered him a charming smile of her own. "OK then, Jay," she emphasized teasingly the last word. "What can I do for ya?"
He looked down, and Cathy leaned on the counter slightly to eye what was hidden in his hands - finding a photographic camera. "Actually, I was looking for some film for my camera."
"Yup, here - this'll do you right," the blond-girl turned to the shelves behind her and picked up the little box with the desired contents, handing it to him. "That's really the best film on the market."
The handsome young man put the film into the camera, and pointed it in her direction.
Cathy's cheeks suddenly blushed and her hazel eyes traveled aimlessly around the room for a moment, showing her nervousness. "Whatcha doing?" she inquired with a coy grin.
Jay looked up at her and answered nonchalantly, "Oh, I'm just testing it, I hope you don't mind."
Cathy seemed to relax, and risked a smile into the camera, grimacing a little when the sudden flash blinded her eyes for a fleeting instant.
And as the flashes went off again and again, Cathy eventually eased up and became more and more comfortable, striking a new pose at every new photograph taken.
"Is this good?" she mocked a seductive look, and chuckled, sticking her tongue out at the next flash of light.
A smirk flashing across his lips, the man quickly looked up from the camera and grinned. "That's just perfect."
***
R/R!
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. B/A crossover.
***
Xander just stood there for a second, the telephone absent-mindedly being held at his ear. Urges to either throw up, hit something so hard his hands would bleed or just shout as loud as his lungs would allow to started to build up inside him; his innards being invaded by a combination of shock, daze and tartness.
As the cold voice echoed in his mind, again and again and again, the former carpenter felt like not being in the real world anymore, or finally returning to it - it was a strange, oddly familiar feeling that he couldn't quite make up his mind about.
The stranger's voice wasn't sarcastic, but instead a even more chilly truth- speaking tone when he said, "Cat got your tongue, pal? I thought you'd have something to say, you know - it's not every day a guy leaves town without telling their friends. And after all we've been through? You just brush me off as if it meant nothing? That really hurt my feelings, Xander."
Xander Harris came out of his trance and replied, his voice nonchalant yet filled with an undeniable hint of spite, "To be absolutely honest, I couldn't care less about your feelings. So let's just cut to the chase and you tell me whatever psycho crap you've got to say this time, so we can end this fast and clean, you crackpot."
The dark-haired guy heard a sigh from the other side of the line. "I don't know why you keep trying to brush me off, Xander - hiding, sneaking off on me. That's just not considerate - I really thought you'd have understood by now."
"Is that all the loony chitchat you've got for today? 'Cause I can gladly live without it," Xander sneered, trying to control the tenseness increasing inside him.
The unknown man ignored that. "What did you think of the redhead? She was truly something, wasn't she?"
"If you're not saying anything relevant, I'll hang up," the former Slayerette threatened the other man in a weary voice, tired of this endless game; his eyes absent-mindedly fixed on the blank TV.
"Come on, you're no fun!" the stranger's voice cried out briskly.
The Observer continued, in a lower, more somber voice, "I tried to move on, ya know? After you left, I thought about starting a new life - see the world, write a book, plant a tree or something. Just follow the frickin' manual, right? But it didn't work out so well... there was just no fire, no passion, y'know? So, I thought I could cut you some slack, and see if we can start making amends..."
At the maniacal and heartfelt confession, Xander asked, more alarmed and careful yet maintaining the cold tone, knowing he'd have to play the psycho's game, "What are you trying to say?"
After a draw-out silence and a slightly impatient sigh, the foreign voice spoke again, "I'll send you a picture of a girl, and I'm giving you the 9:00 p.m. deadline. You find her, you save her. You don't find her, I kill her."
Startled by the insane plan, the dark-haired guy took a second to come around. "If I can't find her... then it's my fault she'll die," he repeated slowly.
A chuckle, from the other end of the line. "I'm leaving the interpretations up to you, buddy. You call it as you see it." The voice continued in a impassioned tone, "We're gonna make it through, ya know? We're gonna save our friendship. I really believe we will, Xander."
"You freakin' bastard," Xander simply whispered after a bitter and brief chuckle, distressed.
Seemingly hurt, the unknown man exploded, "You know, I'm so goddamn tired of being the only one who gives a shit about us; you with your complaints, and bitching - that can be so exhausting to deal with sometimes! You just can't see it, can't you?"
After a few seconds, the voice came back in a more collected and cold tone, "You've got until nine. Clock's ticking, Xander."
"Wait, wait, when am I getting the picture?" the former Slayerette inquired frantically, knowing the conversation was soon to be ended by the stranger and trying to get as much information as possible.
"You'll know," the simple reply came, followed by a 'click' on the phone.
***
Xander slowly put the phone back on its cradle, and just stood still for a moment.
All of a sudden, the former carpenter just felt like he couldn't take it anymore and started to throw all the objects around him in a sudden beserker rage. He felt like a drowning victim that was slowly sinking deeper and deeper, aware of the fact the bottom of the sea was just getting more and more distant.
The sound of a glassy cup falling hard on the floor and breaking into millions of little sharp pieces didn't seem to alarm Xander, nor did the shouts from the next door neighbor to knock it off.
Managing to stagger forward, Xander entered his private chambers and fell, barely managing to support himself on the bed before falling to the floor. He tried to pull out the needle from his bureau drawer, but closed his eyes after realizing his failure.
With his eyes half-open and, as the pain started to become his entire world and the images around him began to fade away into darkness, the dark-haired guy almost miraculously managed to drag himself into the living room once again. Xander then picked up the telephone that had been shoved away during his explosion.
And as his fingers dialed a telephone number absent-mindedly, the only thought on Xander's mind was of that of an October night, about two years ago.
~ Flashback ~
The seconds were timeless, the practically impossible speed of his steps was incredible as the anger and distress finally came up as one, powerfully rising inside the current FBI collaborator and giving him an almost supernatural strength.
He couldn't handle it anymore - the insane gifts, the cards, the overwhelming guilt. Even knowing he wasn't at fault by any standards, Xander couldn't shove away from his mind that feeling of overwhelming guilt.
All the blood on the murdered girls' bodies; their empty, lifeless eyes staring blankly into the void; three lives brutally ruined in Sunnydale; all of this, in his name... no, it had to come to an end - all of this, it had to end and end now.
After all he had gone through during these harsh seven years, there was just no way he'd let a psycho tear his life apart like this one minute longer.
After a good five meters of running, Xander acknowledged the abrupt stop of the stranger on the other side of the street with one of his own, that almost made him lose his equilibrium.
The stranger's face was hidden by the shadows of the darkened sky; and the roadway was the only separation between the two men. A few cars occasionally passed by, making Xander cover his eyes from the effulgent headlights.
And that was when the ground quivered with a rocky strength and the powerful noise of the explosion echoed with incredible potency, the sound making Xander automatically turn to look for its origin.
Finally realizing the noisy outburst was originated from the very same apartment complex where he had shared one of the most important parts of his life with his wife, Xander just felt like he'd never be able to move, or breathe ever again.
"You know," the man on the other side of the roadway yelled, as the dark- haired guy barely registered, at the moment, the words that would be carved deeply into his soul for the rest of the life. "She was just getting between the two of us - she had to be taken out..."
The current FBI collaborator looked slowly at the shadowy silhouette, still paralyzed as the significance of the happenings still seemed hazy to him.
The voice, now, held a strong pang of rage and even amusement. "I gave you a chance, pal... but it was your choice to come after me - remember that, Xander! It was your choice!"
The outburst of contradictory feelings hit the dark-haired guy so strongly and abruptly that, for a second, Xander really felt he'd collapse. However, the denial overwhelmed any other sentiment of guilt, pain, exhaustion, lost or hatred, and gave him enough strength to turn around and start running like the barrier of time and space didn't exist anymore.
The only thing Xander knew right then was that he had to be there, he had to save her, he knew there was still time - there had to be, it was just as simple as that.
In his lively run, the only sound that filled Xander's mind was the blazing one of the fire consuming the building.
~ End of Flashback ~
His world was filled by the endless recollections of that night, when his body finally gave in to oblivion and nightmares overtook his dreams; the telephone was at his side, as a voice echoed from the other end of line, unaware of the scene taking place at the apartment.
"Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?"
***
It was only her second week on the job and Cathy was already bored out of her mind, absent-mindedly playing with a lock of hair.
Cathy was twenty-five, and the owner of gracious, refreshing intelligence. She was almost six feet tall and her hair, short and blond, was held up by a stylish plastic strip. Her eyes, a dark hazel, were hidden behind a set of heavy spectacles, outlined by black frames.
The truth was, there was nothing really special about her. She was just an ordinary girl, with no characteristics that'd especially distinguish her - in a crowd, she'd pass by unnoticed.
Gaining momentum with her feet, the pretty young blonde made the store's chair, which had wheels underneath, roll in a semi-circle. The girl moved along with the furniture, her feet stroking the floor.
Suddenly, in the middle of a drawn-out yawn, the young woman's sideways glance saw a customer entering the store, and she clumsily composed herself to stand up, quickly shoving a loose lock of blond hair behind her ear.
The client had the appearance of a healthy guy, in good shape. His physique was well defined and he had a silky, straight hair, whose longish locks were a brown color. His skin was slightly pale, and his eyes were a captivating green, with hints of gray and blue, the variation seen by the occasional illumination.
Dusting her jeans overalls with her hands, Cathy gave the young man an apologetic smile, and said, "Sorry, I was a little spaced out."
The man returned her apology with a soft chuckle. "That's not a problem at all."
Cathy smiled again, and raised her two eyebrows in expectance with a tilt of her head. "So... how can I help you, sir?"
"Oh no, please, no sir. Just call me Jay," he retorted with a smile and, for a second, locking eyes with hers.
Cathy, a little taken aback by the young man's enchanting look, offered him a charming smile of her own. "OK then, Jay," she emphasized teasingly the last word. "What can I do for ya?"
He looked down, and Cathy leaned on the counter slightly to eye what was hidden in his hands - finding a photographic camera. "Actually, I was looking for some film for my camera."
"Yup, here - this'll do you right," the blond-girl turned to the shelves behind her and picked up the little box with the desired contents, handing it to him. "That's really the best film on the market."
The handsome young man put the film into the camera, and pointed it in her direction.
Cathy's cheeks suddenly blushed and her hazel eyes traveled aimlessly around the room for a moment, showing her nervousness. "Whatcha doing?" she inquired with a coy grin.
Jay looked up at her and answered nonchalantly, "Oh, I'm just testing it, I hope you don't mind."
Cathy seemed to relax, and risked a smile into the camera, grimacing a little when the sudden flash blinded her eyes for a fleeting instant.
And as the flashes went off again and again, Cathy eventually eased up and became more and more comfortable, striking a new pose at every new photograph taken.
"Is this good?" she mocked a seductive look, and chuckled, sticking her tongue out at the next flash of light.
A smirk flashing across his lips, the man quickly looked up from the camera and grinned. "That's just perfect."
***
R/R!