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 Observer", 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: After a tragedy hits home for Xander, he moves to Los Angeles and becomes a shadow of his old self, shoving his friends away in his new life. Two years later, the pain and quarrel of his past is back to catch up with him. (BtVS/AtS crossover)
***
Outlines of forms and shapes gradually became clear again to Xander, as the darkness started to fade away to once again give him the ability to distinguish his surroundings.
When the dark-haired guy tried to get up, he became aware of a hand stopping him in the process. At the same time, his mind registered he was on the bed, which meant someone had picked him up from the floor, where the former construction worker remembered being before passing out.
"Easy, easy," a soft voice advised softly, and Xander obeyed by immediately collapsing backwards, finally coming to a prone position on the bed.
The young man cleared his sore throat and stated, looking at the brunette for the first time, "Cordelia."
"Hey there, Xand," the brunette girl flashed a tender smile at him.
"How did you..." the slightly confused guy recomposed himself and continued, glancing at her more somberly, "How did you know it was me? I don't remember succeeding in completing that phone call..."
"My phone's got callback tracking," the brunette answered with a hint of excitement. "I mean, I love pretending I'm not there, if someone annoying calls me. It's actually kinda neat."
"Sounds like it," Xander replied with a small grin, absent-mindedly.
Cordelia's expression softened. "You seem to be in pretty bad shape, pal. I made you some strong black coffee. Here," she said gently, handing him the mug.
Xander accepted it, but mostly because he felt bad at the thought of declining her charity - as Cordelia's non-coffee-making skills were legendary. "Thanks," the former Slayerette muttered, trying to be grateful.
While the guy took a sip from the mug, the brunette woman was eyeing him out of the corner of her eye, seemingly worried.
"I'm OK, Cordy," Xander stated rigidly without looking at her, noticing her actions.
"Yeah, right," she smirked sadly, glancing to the floor and then at him meaningfully, with a hint of irony. "And I was, like, Mother Theresa to you during high school."
"I don't think the Catholic Church would be too pleased to know what we used to get up to in the utility closet then," the former carpenter mumbled jokingly, but his former girlfriend only stared seriously at him.
"Please, tell me this is not you nowadays. Please tell me that what I saw today isn't, like, customary?" Cordelia asked with a slight cringe, even when a painful twinge in her heart already knew the answer to that question.
The brunette woman shivered at the memories of entering the apartment, and finding the living room to be a complete mess; the dark-haired man collapsed near the bureau drawer, which had on its surface some bottles containing pills. With one of the bottles on the floor, and a few pills spread out in front of it.
The bureau drawer, half-open, revealed to contain a package of empty needles and liquid medicine by its side.
"It's not what you think; it's not like I'm a junkie or something. That stuff is all on prescription, you know," Xander said slowly, noticing the girl's hazel eyes staring at the furniture.
Cordelia bit her lip to stop wincing, and her voice was considerably more frantic when she snapped, "Then you really need all this stuff? 'Cause, gee, I think you've just made me feel a world of relief now, Xander!" the girl scowled sarcastically at the last sentence.
"Cordelia, I don't have time for this," the former Slayerette spoke quietly, defensively.
The young woman closed her eyes tightly, to repress the tangle of emotions building up inside her.
However, the battle proved itself futile. In a voice barely controlled at first, and which gradually increased its passionate and distressed tone, Cordelia said, "I got a call from Willow last month. And she told me the last time you returned any of her calls, it was almost seven months ago - seven months, Xander! What are you, going Busy Boy on us now? That's so selfish, ya know - we've all been through stuff! And you don't even care if your friends are suffering now with you shoving them away?"
For a fleeting instant, her words brought up the remembrance of a party and a discussion that had taken place a long time ago. A time when Buffy had returned home after staying for the whole summer in Los Angeles, leaving her friends and family clueless as to whether she was dead or alive, all right or not.
~ Flashback ~
The hurt and anger of his blond-haired friend's intended secret departure came all at once when Xander exploded, "Maybe you don't want to hear it, Buffy. But taking off like that was selfish and stupid-"
Buffy, on the verge of a breakdown, cut him off by saying, "Okay - I screwed up! I know it - all right?! But you have no idea. You have no idea what happened to me, or what I was feeling-"
Now it was the dark-haired teen's turn to tell the Slayer off, "Did you even try talking to anybody?"
"What's the point? There was nothing anyone could do. I just had to deal on my own," Buffy retorted persistently.
Xander's voice held a hint of sarcasm when he said, "And you see how well that went. You can't just bury stuff, Buffy! It'll come right back up to get you..."
~ End of Flashback ~
Quickly shrugging away the sudden memories, Xander pulled himself out of the bed and walked away. But Cordelia followed him out of the room.
The former Slayerette sent a brief glance towards the living room, noticing some of the mess had been cleaned up and the tossed objects were now carefully arranged on the table.
"Why did you call me, Xander? After so much time - why today, why now?" Cordelia's voice spoke behind him.
The dark-haired guy, who had his back to her at that moment, turned to stare at the girl. "I didn't know how long I'd be out, and I couldn't risk waiting; I thought maybe I'd need... maybe I'd need someone's help," he uttered, prudently.
"Help to do what?" Cordelia asked, slightly raising her eyebrows.
For a second, Xander looked inwardly - divided in heart, about either telling her the truth or not. And the truth was telling her that when he'd called, he knew he couldn't risk the chance of blacking out without making contact with Special Agent Anthony Phillips as soon as possible, and filling him in about the newest insane plan of the serial killer.
In the end, the former Slayerette decided to go for the first option.
"I had to call someone. Like I said, I couldn't risk waiting; it might have been too late then," Xander repeated carefully, but seemingly a bit jumbled.
A cocked, inquisitive eyebrow. "Does this someone have a name, or are you gonna try the Keeping-In-The-Dark-The-Girl-I-Just-Woke-Up routine again?"
"It wasn't even five o'clock when I called you," the guy said suspiciously.
"You try living with a vampire in an abandoned hotel for four years, and see how well you can readjust to normal hours," she smiled a soft, perky smile.
Xander replied with a brief grin, but it died rapidly on his lips. "It's Anthony Phillips."
The brunette woman's face frowned for an instant, as if she was trying to recollect who this was from her memories. "Wait, isn't Anthony Phillips like the name of that FBI agent?"
Her eyes widened, as the meaning of the words echoed in her mind, "Why would you need...?"
"To call him?" Xander finished for her softly, his dark eyes downcast for a fleeting moment.
Raising his head with a sigh, Xander's gaze seemed to try to avoid direct contact with hers. "A girl was murdered last night, two floors below me." His voice was firm and emotionless when the former carpenter continued, "She was strangled with a piano string."
"Oh my God," Cordelia blurted out, and her feet staggered, her hands reaching to find the chair near the table.
She sat down a little shakily, and eyed her former boyfriend apprehensively. "Does this mean...?"
"That he's back? Pretty much, yeah," Xander confirmed the girl's fears, seemingly a bit too nonchalant, walking to the other side of the room.
Cordelia took some seconds to absorb the information, her expression showing great conflict when she glanced at him again. "We can fight him this time," the brunette said resolutely.
"You know that's not how it works with him, Cor. Nope, his game, his rules; he knows what we know, and he's not gonna leave any actual clues behind; he's too careful to do that," the dark-haired guy replied slightly impatiently, shaking his head.
Cordelia stood up, now looking extremely agitated. "To hell with all that! So he has some magical mojo working to protect his lame ass; I say, big deal! We'll find someone stronger than he is to break it, and we'll catch him!"
The former Slayerette was getting agitated too. "Gee, you know, I don't think we've ever actually tried that approach! Thanks for the advice, Cordelia, I'm sure it'll be very helpful," his tone was sarcastic, as was the fleeting smirk he sent her.
"Cut the sarcasm, Xander - it doesn't suit you. And you know I wear it better than you ever did," the girl hissed as a rebuttal, her hazel eyes showing a pang of hurt.
Xander sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, I know it's not fair to you since I was the one who called for your help," the dark-haired guy said, after a long moment of silence. "But I don't wanna discuss it. I don't want you to ask me if I'm OK. I just... I can't deal with that right now, ya know? Not right now."
The confession's words were difficult, raw and low; Xander looked fragile, an exception to the cold mask he had been wearing during the last few minutes. The brunette former Sunnydale girl knew she couldn't push him any further, even when that was what she probably should be doing, as her heart told her to.
"Lemme at least get you some dinner," Cordelia said tentatively. "You do eat, don't you?"
~ Flashback ~
"What's the point? There was nothing anyone could do. I just had to deal on my own," Buffy retorted persistently.
Xander's voice held a hint of sarcasm when he said, "And you see how well that went. You can't just bury stuff, Buffy! It'll come right back up to get you..."
~ End of Flashback ~
Xander smiled a thin smile at the brunette; however, it was a heartfelt grin this time.
"Yeah, I guess I do," the guy replied softly, and Cordelia looked suddenly surprised, grinning wildly. "I, uh, I've got to make a call first though."
"You've got yourself a deal," she chimed in, excited with the chance of winning back her old friend. "And Xander? You're not alone - you know that, right?"
Xander smiled, looking at the floor. Then he stared back at her, his expression enigmatic somehow and if only thinly, perhaps too thinly yet, the lost young man was still grinning nevertheless. "You're paying for dinner."
"I wouldn't count on it," the brunette woman grinned playfully. And, as he left to call Special Agent Phillips, she whispered, "Don't you try to slip away from me again, Xander Harris."
But what they didn't know, was that they were being observed right at that very moment.
***
Please, if people are actually following this, let me know! I'm almost dropping this project... Seriously, I need some motivation - my ambrosia :)
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 Observer", 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: After a tragedy hits home for Xander, he moves to Los Angeles and becomes a shadow of his old self, shoving his friends away in his new life. Two years later, the pain and quarrel of his past is back to catch up with him. (BtVS/AtS crossover)
***
Outlines of forms and shapes gradually became clear again to Xander, as the darkness started to fade away to once again give him the ability to distinguish his surroundings.
When the dark-haired guy tried to get up, he became aware of a hand stopping him in the process. At the same time, his mind registered he was on the bed, which meant someone had picked him up from the floor, where the former construction worker remembered being before passing out.
"Easy, easy," a soft voice advised softly, and Xander obeyed by immediately collapsing backwards, finally coming to a prone position on the bed.
The young man cleared his sore throat and stated, looking at the brunette for the first time, "Cordelia."
"Hey there, Xand," the brunette girl flashed a tender smile at him.
"How did you..." the slightly confused guy recomposed himself and continued, glancing at her more somberly, "How did you know it was me? I don't remember succeeding in completing that phone call..."
"My phone's got callback tracking," the brunette answered with a hint of excitement. "I mean, I love pretending I'm not there, if someone annoying calls me. It's actually kinda neat."
"Sounds like it," Xander replied with a small grin, absent-mindedly.
Cordelia's expression softened. "You seem to be in pretty bad shape, pal. I made you some strong black coffee. Here," she said gently, handing him the mug.
Xander accepted it, but mostly because he felt bad at the thought of declining her charity - as Cordelia's non-coffee-making skills were legendary. "Thanks," the former Slayerette muttered, trying to be grateful.
While the guy took a sip from the mug, the brunette woman was eyeing him out of the corner of her eye, seemingly worried.
"I'm OK, Cordy," Xander stated rigidly without looking at her, noticing her actions.
"Yeah, right," she smirked sadly, glancing to the floor and then at him meaningfully, with a hint of irony. "And I was, like, Mother Theresa to you during high school."
"I don't think the Catholic Church would be too pleased to know what we used to get up to in the utility closet then," the former carpenter mumbled jokingly, but his former girlfriend only stared seriously at him.
"Please, tell me this is not you nowadays. Please tell me that what I saw today isn't, like, customary?" Cordelia asked with a slight cringe, even when a painful twinge in her heart already knew the answer to that question.
The brunette woman shivered at the memories of entering the apartment, and finding the living room to be a complete mess; the dark-haired man collapsed near the bureau drawer, which had on its surface some bottles containing pills. With one of the bottles on the floor, and a few pills spread out in front of it.
The bureau drawer, half-open, revealed to contain a package of empty needles and liquid medicine by its side.
"It's not what you think; it's not like I'm a junkie or something. That stuff is all on prescription, you know," Xander said slowly, noticing the girl's hazel eyes staring at the furniture.
Cordelia bit her lip to stop wincing, and her voice was considerably more frantic when she snapped, "Then you really need all this stuff? 'Cause, gee, I think you've just made me feel a world of relief now, Xander!" the girl scowled sarcastically at the last sentence.
"Cordelia, I don't have time for this," the former Slayerette spoke quietly, defensively.
The young woman closed her eyes tightly, to repress the tangle of emotions building up inside her.
However, the battle proved itself futile. In a voice barely controlled at first, and which gradually increased its passionate and distressed tone, Cordelia said, "I got a call from Willow last month. And she told me the last time you returned any of her calls, it was almost seven months ago - seven months, Xander! What are you, going Busy Boy on us now? That's so selfish, ya know - we've all been through stuff! And you don't even care if your friends are suffering now with you shoving them away?"
For a fleeting instant, her words brought up the remembrance of a party and a discussion that had taken place a long time ago. A time when Buffy had returned home after staying for the whole summer in Los Angeles, leaving her friends and family clueless as to whether she was dead or alive, all right or not.
~ Flashback ~
The hurt and anger of his blond-haired friend's intended secret departure came all at once when Xander exploded, "Maybe you don't want to hear it, Buffy. But taking off like that was selfish and stupid-"
Buffy, on the verge of a breakdown, cut him off by saying, "Okay - I screwed up! I know it - all right?! But you have no idea. You have no idea what happened to me, or what I was feeling-"
Now it was the dark-haired teen's turn to tell the Slayer off, "Did you even try talking to anybody?"
"What's the point? There was nothing anyone could do. I just had to deal on my own," Buffy retorted persistently.
Xander's voice held a hint of sarcasm when he said, "And you see how well that went. You can't just bury stuff, Buffy! It'll come right back up to get you..."
~ End of Flashback ~
Quickly shrugging away the sudden memories, Xander pulled himself out of the bed and walked away. But Cordelia followed him out of the room.
The former Slayerette sent a brief glance towards the living room, noticing some of the mess had been cleaned up and the tossed objects were now carefully arranged on the table.
"Why did you call me, Xander? After so much time - why today, why now?" Cordelia's voice spoke behind him.
The dark-haired guy, who had his back to her at that moment, turned to stare at the girl. "I didn't know how long I'd be out, and I couldn't risk waiting; I thought maybe I'd need... maybe I'd need someone's help," he uttered, prudently.
"Help to do what?" Cordelia asked, slightly raising her eyebrows.
For a second, Xander looked inwardly - divided in heart, about either telling her the truth or not. And the truth was telling her that when he'd called, he knew he couldn't risk the chance of blacking out without making contact with Special Agent Anthony Phillips as soon as possible, and filling him in about the newest insane plan of the serial killer.
In the end, the former Slayerette decided to go for the first option.
"I had to call someone. Like I said, I couldn't risk waiting; it might have been too late then," Xander repeated carefully, but seemingly a bit jumbled.
A cocked, inquisitive eyebrow. "Does this someone have a name, or are you gonna try the Keeping-In-The-Dark-The-Girl-I-Just-Woke-Up routine again?"
"It wasn't even five o'clock when I called you," the guy said suspiciously.
"You try living with a vampire in an abandoned hotel for four years, and see how well you can readjust to normal hours," she smiled a soft, perky smile.
Xander replied with a brief grin, but it died rapidly on his lips. "It's Anthony Phillips."
The brunette woman's face frowned for an instant, as if she was trying to recollect who this was from her memories. "Wait, isn't Anthony Phillips like the name of that FBI agent?"
Her eyes widened, as the meaning of the words echoed in her mind, "Why would you need...?"
"To call him?" Xander finished for her softly, his dark eyes downcast for a fleeting moment.
Raising his head with a sigh, Xander's gaze seemed to try to avoid direct contact with hers. "A girl was murdered last night, two floors below me." His voice was firm and emotionless when the former carpenter continued, "She was strangled with a piano string."
"Oh my God," Cordelia blurted out, and her feet staggered, her hands reaching to find the chair near the table.
She sat down a little shakily, and eyed her former boyfriend apprehensively. "Does this mean...?"
"That he's back? Pretty much, yeah," Xander confirmed the girl's fears, seemingly a bit too nonchalant, walking to the other side of the room.
Cordelia took some seconds to absorb the information, her expression showing great conflict when she glanced at him again. "We can fight him this time," the brunette said resolutely.
"You know that's not how it works with him, Cor. Nope, his game, his rules; he knows what we know, and he's not gonna leave any actual clues behind; he's too careful to do that," the dark-haired guy replied slightly impatiently, shaking his head.
Cordelia stood up, now looking extremely agitated. "To hell with all that! So he has some magical mojo working to protect his lame ass; I say, big deal! We'll find someone stronger than he is to break it, and we'll catch him!"
The former Slayerette was getting agitated too. "Gee, you know, I don't think we've ever actually tried that approach! Thanks for the advice, Cordelia, I'm sure it'll be very helpful," his tone was sarcastic, as was the fleeting smirk he sent her.
"Cut the sarcasm, Xander - it doesn't suit you. And you know I wear it better than you ever did," the girl hissed as a rebuttal, her hazel eyes showing a pang of hurt.
Xander sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, I know it's not fair to you since I was the one who called for your help," the dark-haired guy said, after a long moment of silence. "But I don't wanna discuss it. I don't want you to ask me if I'm OK. I just... I can't deal with that right now, ya know? Not right now."
The confession's words were difficult, raw and low; Xander looked fragile, an exception to the cold mask he had been wearing during the last few minutes. The brunette former Sunnydale girl knew she couldn't push him any further, even when that was what she probably should be doing, as her heart told her to.
"Lemme at least get you some dinner," Cordelia said tentatively. "You do eat, don't you?"
~ Flashback ~
"What's the point? There was nothing anyone could do. I just had to deal on my own," Buffy retorted persistently.
Xander's voice held a hint of sarcasm when he said, "And you see how well that went. You can't just bury stuff, Buffy! It'll come right back up to get you..."
~ End of Flashback ~
Xander smiled a thin smile at the brunette; however, it was a heartfelt grin this time.
"Yeah, I guess I do," the guy replied softly, and Cordelia looked suddenly surprised, grinning wildly. "I, uh, I've got to make a call first though."
"You've got yourself a deal," she chimed in, excited with the chance of winning back her old friend. "And Xander? You're not alone - you know that, right?"
Xander smiled, looking at the floor. Then he stared back at her, his expression enigmatic somehow and if only thinly, perhaps too thinly yet, the lost young man was still grinning nevertheless. "You're paying for dinner."
"I wouldn't count on it," the brunette woman grinned playfully. And, as he left to call Special Agent Phillips, she whispered, "Don't you try to slip away from me again, Xander Harris."
But what they didn't know, was that they were being observed right at that very moment.
***
Please, if people are actually following this, let me know! I'm almost dropping this project... Seriously, I need some motivation - my ambrosia :)