TITLE: Behind the crystal walls
AUTHOR: Simone of the Zordiak
PART: 2/?
EMAIL: burning_night@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: "They followed me home, can I keep them?"
"No, Joss owns them, now give them back." "Sigh."
They folk on "Angel" and "Buffy" might not be mine,
but I still like to play with them.
The concept and figures of "Slayers" the Anime and the
Mangas belong to people with long and unspeakable
Japanese names that I have forgotten how to spell
For the rest of the disclaimers, go to part one
AUTHORS NOTES: English is still not my native language and this story is
not beta'd.
FEEDBACK: Is there a writer who doesn't want feedback ???
Constructive critic always welcomed
Flamers will be cursed with ancient and funny Chinese curses
and tormented with bongo playing mice I specially trained
for these occurrences
******
When Angel entered the office, a hooded and masked being in tow, Wesley
was instantly alarmed and tried to unsuspiciously grab his ax. Only to
drop it again when he saw the look of bitter disappointment and hurt in
the beings eyes. He didn't know how he knew it, yet he somehow had the
feeling that he hooded being wasn't a threat, but someone they had to
help.
Angel gestured towards a chair and the being sat down, then pushed the
hood back and removed the mask. Wesleys jaw dropped. He never, in his
entire life, had encountered of read about a demon or creature like
this. What kind of demon was that? Which species did it belong to? The
watcher part of him was fascinated with the concept of a new race of
demons, while the hunter part of him tried to make out the weak spots
of the creature before him.
"Can I bring you something?" And wasn't there worry in Angel's voice?
"Coffee," the being said in a familiar voice, "this body practically
thrives on coffee." And Angel went to find some coffee, while Wesley
sat on his chair, stunned and not believing his own ears, as he finally
made the connection between the familiar voice and the unfamiliar creature
in front of him. It couldn't be, yet it looked like it was true.
"Alexander Harris," he stated in disbelieve. The Xander-creature looked
up sharply and he could see one hand twitching towards the sheathed
sword, but then the hand relaxed as Xander recognized him.
"I should have known that you're somewhere around here, Wesley," Xander
muttered, more to himself than to the ex-watcher. "Should have known
it." Then he shook his head like he was shaking of bad memories and
leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. "You were as unable to let
go and step back as was I. You finally have seen the evil first hand
and now you can't stop fighting it. Just like me," he snorted, "look
what that has done to me." He waved towards his new physique and then
opened his eyes again, pining down Wesley with one icy stare. "Do you
want know who did it, do you? It wasn't any of the evil things we've
to deal with day in, day out. No wizard, sorcerer or evil demon, nooo,
it was my best friend, the only kindergarten-friend I have, that is
still alive.... Willow did this. She was practicing magic, a simple
spell, a nothing-can-go-wrong-with-it spell. And it turned me into
*THIS*!"
Xander had jumped up from his chair and was now pacing through the
room. "Ohh, she was remorseful afterwards, so sorry, she said. But no
matter what she tried, Giles tried, Tara tried, this spell can't be
broken. I'll look like this for the rest of my life, of eternity!
And they can't help but stare at me, they look at me and see a freak!"
He slumped back into his chair, which creaked dangerously under his
weight. "They are afraid of me now. Afraid of what I have become,
afraid of what I can do now. And then the Initiative found out about
me, wasn't too hard actually, you can't hide blue stone skin that
easily. And the underground, can't forget about the lovely underground
of our 'beloved' hometown. Try to hide what you are from demons with
lots of extra senses.... you know, the vampires in Sunnydale now warn
their fleges about me, since some of them lost their fangs when they
tried to bite me." Abruptly Xander stopped talking, as if he had said
everything Wesley had to know.
A few minutes later Angel came back with the coffee and both men
watched silently as Xander practically inhaled the brew.
Angel couldn't help but look at the teen. Xander had always been the
most human one of them, the one without the special powers, but also
the one who held them all together. He had been the one who had found
humor in every situation and had shared it with the others, he had
been their hope and the reason why they fought. And now he was sitting
here, bitter, physically changed beyond recognition and he could only
guess what kind of mental damage had been done to him. Angel felt a
burning headache coming closer, how would the Sunnydale group survive
without their heart? And what was this business with the Soldiers, the
Initiative? He realized that he had been drifting away mentally and
forced himself back to the topic at hand, back to Xander. Xander, who
was starring back at him now. Angel winced soundlessly as he noticed
the hard look in the boys eyes. Before the change, Xanders eyes had
been open and friendly, true windows to the boys soul. And what a
beautiful soul the boy had. It had driven him almost insane with envy.
To come into the library or the Bronze, only to see a human with a soul
that pure, that innocent, that happy. It always reminded him of what
he had lost, what he could never regain, no matter how many people he
helped. Now the path to the beautiful soul was blocked. Walled up
behind eyes no longer brown, but a sapphire blue and as hard and cold
as the crystal itself. And Angel couldn't help but mourn for the beauty
that was lost to the world now, the beauty of one innocent soul.
Xander starred at the vampire that was starring at him. His fingers
twitched as he suppressed the impulse to throw the coffeecup at him.
He hated it now, people starring at him. It reminded him of his status
of an outcast, belonging nowhere, not with humans, not with demons,
homeless and hunted. Memories started to bubble up inside him, memories
of torches and pitchforks, of screaming people and swords and blood, so
much blood. Ruthless he squashed the memories, forcing them back into
the dark edge they had crawled from. "Willow did this?" Wesley asked
carefully, as if he was a dangerous untamed beast, that he didn't want
to anger. Xander nodded. "How?" the ex-watcher simply asked.
"Willow had been in a rather depressive mood since Oz left town. So one
night she decided to get rather drunk and then she did a spell. A
My-will-be-done-spell. That day she blinded Giles, almost wed Buffy and
Spike and turned me into a demon-magnet. When we finally found out what
had happened and got everything back to normal, Giles made Willow
practice with small, harmless spells until she would get a feeling for
magic. So that night I hosted her when she practiced with an ability
transfer spell she wanted to use at some stones and roses. I don't know
what went wrong, but suddenly I'm in pain and my head hurts like hell...
*** flashback ***
He don't knew how long he had stood there, starring into a mirror that
showed him the worst of his nightmares. The creature in the mirror is
not him, not the reflection he is used to see. Instead he sees a
blueskinned being, with darkblue stones around his eyes and along his
jawline. His mouth is still half-open from the scream earlier and he
can see the upper and lower fangs where his eyeteeth once had been.
And his eyes, his eyes were no longer brown, but blue with slit,
catlike pupils. He blinked and the creature in the mirror did the
same. Slowly he raised a hand to his face, touching the skin. It was
smooth, like marble and equally cold and hard. He looked back to the
mirror were the creature was touching its own face. Finally he couldn't
deny it any longer, the creature in the mirror was him.
It was then, in this moment of realization, that a maelstrom of foreign
memories crashed down on him, drowning him in the history of another
one's life.
And he covered his face and screamed.
*** end flashback ***
... and this is how it's happened," Xander closed his story, leaning
back into his chair, mentally exhausted from unearthing so many
painful memories.
The others looked at him in shock. "You have the other one's memories?"
Angel finally asked. It sounded a bit familiar to him. To wake up with
a new set of memories, memories of horrible misdeeds in his case, that
were haunting him forever.
"Yes, I have." Xander stated. "I remember his childhood, he was happy
then, his parents loved him, unlike mine. He was six when he witnessed
their deaths, when they were slaughtered in front of his eyes. His
grandfather took him in. He was a priest, a legend and the child wanted
to make his grandfather proud of him. Yet nothing he did was enough
and the priest barely noticed him... until he needed a new leader for
his personal army. You see, the priest was blind and he was looking
for a mystical cure for his eyes. He turned the teenage boy into this
creature, a chimera, one third golem, one third mazoku and one third
human. Then he made the boy submit to his will, trained him and finally
sent him out to slaughter anyone who stood in his way." Xander stopped
his story, fighting with memories that were not his own.
"And he did it, for a long time he was his grandfathers marionette,
controlled, punished, beaten. Then she came. His ray of hope, a small
hotheaded sorceress with the appetite of twelve men and spells that
could destroy the earth. She and her companion, they freed him, and
when the priest, overwhelmed by a powerful demonlord, tried to destroy
the earth, they killed him, cutting his last ties to his past. For a
while they traveled together, defeating evil things where ever they
went, looking for a way to reverse his condition and making some other
friends along the way. He gave up his search for a cure when the
highest god of their world, the Lord of Nightmare, personally told him
that there is no way to reverse the spell, not without destroying the
Multiverse. Then he simply traveled with his friends for knowledge,
new spells to learn, new books to read. But unlike him, his friends
aged. He had been made immortal by his insane grandfather, eternal by
the hands of LoN, for saving her creation. His friends died, one by
one, leaving him alone, scorned by the world. And that is all I got
from his memories. It is more than the Anime, Mangas or Novels ever
told, but they are his memories." Xander looked up. His eyes were
traitorously wet and while they still looked at him silently, one lone
tear rolled down his check, only to solidify midfall and to land on
Angel's desk with a small 'plink'.
tbc
AUTHOR: Simone of the Zordiak
PART: 2/?
EMAIL: burning_night@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: "They followed me home, can I keep them?"
"No, Joss owns them, now give them back." "Sigh."
They folk on "Angel" and "Buffy" might not be mine,
but I still like to play with them.
The concept and figures of "Slayers" the Anime and the
Mangas belong to people with long and unspeakable
Japanese names that I have forgotten how to spell
For the rest of the disclaimers, go to part one
AUTHORS NOTES: English is still not my native language and this story is
not beta'd.
FEEDBACK: Is there a writer who doesn't want feedback ???
Constructive critic always welcomed
Flamers will be cursed with ancient and funny Chinese curses
and tormented with bongo playing mice I specially trained
for these occurrences
******
When Angel entered the office, a hooded and masked being in tow, Wesley
was instantly alarmed and tried to unsuspiciously grab his ax. Only to
drop it again when he saw the look of bitter disappointment and hurt in
the beings eyes. He didn't know how he knew it, yet he somehow had the
feeling that he hooded being wasn't a threat, but someone they had to
help.
Angel gestured towards a chair and the being sat down, then pushed the
hood back and removed the mask. Wesleys jaw dropped. He never, in his
entire life, had encountered of read about a demon or creature like
this. What kind of demon was that? Which species did it belong to? The
watcher part of him was fascinated with the concept of a new race of
demons, while the hunter part of him tried to make out the weak spots
of the creature before him.
"Can I bring you something?" And wasn't there worry in Angel's voice?
"Coffee," the being said in a familiar voice, "this body practically
thrives on coffee." And Angel went to find some coffee, while Wesley
sat on his chair, stunned and not believing his own ears, as he finally
made the connection between the familiar voice and the unfamiliar creature
in front of him. It couldn't be, yet it looked like it was true.
"Alexander Harris," he stated in disbelieve. The Xander-creature looked
up sharply and he could see one hand twitching towards the sheathed
sword, but then the hand relaxed as Xander recognized him.
"I should have known that you're somewhere around here, Wesley," Xander
muttered, more to himself than to the ex-watcher. "Should have known
it." Then he shook his head like he was shaking of bad memories and
leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. "You were as unable to let
go and step back as was I. You finally have seen the evil first hand
and now you can't stop fighting it. Just like me," he snorted, "look
what that has done to me." He waved towards his new physique and then
opened his eyes again, pining down Wesley with one icy stare. "Do you
want know who did it, do you? It wasn't any of the evil things we've
to deal with day in, day out. No wizard, sorcerer or evil demon, nooo,
it was my best friend, the only kindergarten-friend I have, that is
still alive.... Willow did this. She was practicing magic, a simple
spell, a nothing-can-go-wrong-with-it spell. And it turned me into
*THIS*!"
Xander had jumped up from his chair and was now pacing through the
room. "Ohh, she was remorseful afterwards, so sorry, she said. But no
matter what she tried, Giles tried, Tara tried, this spell can't be
broken. I'll look like this for the rest of my life, of eternity!
And they can't help but stare at me, they look at me and see a freak!"
He slumped back into his chair, which creaked dangerously under his
weight. "They are afraid of me now. Afraid of what I have become,
afraid of what I can do now. And then the Initiative found out about
me, wasn't too hard actually, you can't hide blue stone skin that
easily. And the underground, can't forget about the lovely underground
of our 'beloved' hometown. Try to hide what you are from demons with
lots of extra senses.... you know, the vampires in Sunnydale now warn
their fleges about me, since some of them lost their fangs when they
tried to bite me." Abruptly Xander stopped talking, as if he had said
everything Wesley had to know.
A few minutes later Angel came back with the coffee and both men
watched silently as Xander practically inhaled the brew.
Angel couldn't help but look at the teen. Xander had always been the
most human one of them, the one without the special powers, but also
the one who held them all together. He had been the one who had found
humor in every situation and had shared it with the others, he had
been their hope and the reason why they fought. And now he was sitting
here, bitter, physically changed beyond recognition and he could only
guess what kind of mental damage had been done to him. Angel felt a
burning headache coming closer, how would the Sunnydale group survive
without their heart? And what was this business with the Soldiers, the
Initiative? He realized that he had been drifting away mentally and
forced himself back to the topic at hand, back to Xander. Xander, who
was starring back at him now. Angel winced soundlessly as he noticed
the hard look in the boys eyes. Before the change, Xanders eyes had
been open and friendly, true windows to the boys soul. And what a
beautiful soul the boy had. It had driven him almost insane with envy.
To come into the library or the Bronze, only to see a human with a soul
that pure, that innocent, that happy. It always reminded him of what
he had lost, what he could never regain, no matter how many people he
helped. Now the path to the beautiful soul was blocked. Walled up
behind eyes no longer brown, but a sapphire blue and as hard and cold
as the crystal itself. And Angel couldn't help but mourn for the beauty
that was lost to the world now, the beauty of one innocent soul.
Xander starred at the vampire that was starring at him. His fingers
twitched as he suppressed the impulse to throw the coffeecup at him.
He hated it now, people starring at him. It reminded him of his status
of an outcast, belonging nowhere, not with humans, not with demons,
homeless and hunted. Memories started to bubble up inside him, memories
of torches and pitchforks, of screaming people and swords and blood, so
much blood. Ruthless he squashed the memories, forcing them back into
the dark edge they had crawled from. "Willow did this?" Wesley asked
carefully, as if he was a dangerous untamed beast, that he didn't want
to anger. Xander nodded. "How?" the ex-watcher simply asked.
"Willow had been in a rather depressive mood since Oz left town. So one
night she decided to get rather drunk and then she did a spell. A
My-will-be-done-spell. That day she blinded Giles, almost wed Buffy and
Spike and turned me into a demon-magnet. When we finally found out what
had happened and got everything back to normal, Giles made Willow
practice with small, harmless spells until she would get a feeling for
magic. So that night I hosted her when she practiced with an ability
transfer spell she wanted to use at some stones and roses. I don't know
what went wrong, but suddenly I'm in pain and my head hurts like hell...
*** flashback ***
He don't knew how long he had stood there, starring into a mirror that
showed him the worst of his nightmares. The creature in the mirror is
not him, not the reflection he is used to see. Instead he sees a
blueskinned being, with darkblue stones around his eyes and along his
jawline. His mouth is still half-open from the scream earlier and he
can see the upper and lower fangs where his eyeteeth once had been.
And his eyes, his eyes were no longer brown, but blue with slit,
catlike pupils. He blinked and the creature in the mirror did the
same. Slowly he raised a hand to his face, touching the skin. It was
smooth, like marble and equally cold and hard. He looked back to the
mirror were the creature was touching its own face. Finally he couldn't
deny it any longer, the creature in the mirror was him.
It was then, in this moment of realization, that a maelstrom of foreign
memories crashed down on him, drowning him in the history of another
one's life.
And he covered his face and screamed.
*** end flashback ***
... and this is how it's happened," Xander closed his story, leaning
back into his chair, mentally exhausted from unearthing so many
painful memories.
The others looked at him in shock. "You have the other one's memories?"
Angel finally asked. It sounded a bit familiar to him. To wake up with
a new set of memories, memories of horrible misdeeds in his case, that
were haunting him forever.
"Yes, I have." Xander stated. "I remember his childhood, he was happy
then, his parents loved him, unlike mine. He was six when he witnessed
their deaths, when they were slaughtered in front of his eyes. His
grandfather took him in. He was a priest, a legend and the child wanted
to make his grandfather proud of him. Yet nothing he did was enough
and the priest barely noticed him... until he needed a new leader for
his personal army. You see, the priest was blind and he was looking
for a mystical cure for his eyes. He turned the teenage boy into this
creature, a chimera, one third golem, one third mazoku and one third
human. Then he made the boy submit to his will, trained him and finally
sent him out to slaughter anyone who stood in his way." Xander stopped
his story, fighting with memories that were not his own.
"And he did it, for a long time he was his grandfathers marionette,
controlled, punished, beaten. Then she came. His ray of hope, a small
hotheaded sorceress with the appetite of twelve men and spells that
could destroy the earth. She and her companion, they freed him, and
when the priest, overwhelmed by a powerful demonlord, tried to destroy
the earth, they killed him, cutting his last ties to his past. For a
while they traveled together, defeating evil things where ever they
went, looking for a way to reverse his condition and making some other
friends along the way. He gave up his search for a cure when the
highest god of their world, the Lord of Nightmare, personally told him
that there is no way to reverse the spell, not without destroying the
Multiverse. Then he simply traveled with his friends for knowledge,
new spells to learn, new books to read. But unlike him, his friends
aged. He had been made immortal by his insane grandfather, eternal by
the hands of LoN, for saving her creation. His friends died, one by
one, leaving him alone, scorned by the world. And that is all I got
from his memories. It is more than the Anime, Mangas or Novels ever
told, but they are his memories." Xander looked up. His eyes were
traitorously wet and while they still looked at him silently, one lone
tear rolled down his check, only to solidify midfall and to land on
Angel's desk with a small 'plink'.
tbc