Title:                 Facing Death

Author:             mahaliem

E-mail:              mahaliem@yahoo.com

Rating:              R

Disclaimer:      Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy

Summary:         Xander must confront an old enemy.  This is the last story of my future Xander trilogy, a sequel to "Xander Harris – Carpenter Extraordinaire" and its prequel "Deadly Memories."  Warning! Warning! Warning! – Character deaths in the excerpts of The Last Apocalypse.

Thank you so much to Alena for beta reading this for me.  I truly couldn't do without her.  Thank you, also, to Jane Davitt, who gave me wonderful suggestions and encouragement. 

The Hellspawn weren't really spawned in Hell.  They'd come from a different dimension, but they fed on mystical forces.   Sunnydale and the Hellmouth must have seemed like the land of milk and honey to them.  But feeding on the emissions from the Hellmouth wasn't enough.  They were determined to open it up and get to the mother lode.   We had to stop them and what worked best was an old-fashioned beheading.

                                                                        The Last Apocalypse

                                                                        by A. L. Harris

Part 1

"Where is he, Xander?"

Riley stood before me.  Even though he was clad as a civilian, nothing could hide the fact that he was first, and foremost, a soldier.

"Where's who?"

His eyes continued to bore into mine.

"You know…I'm never sure if you're playing dumb…or if you really are dumb." 

"I haven't seen him," I answered.

"Are you positive?"

"Hey, I'm still breathing, aren't I?  If he'd been around, I'd probably be dead."

"True.  But you have contacts…contacts we don't have."

My hands clenched into fists.  I didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Leave her out of it."

"Not possible.  If he's in town, he's going to go see her."

Riley was right.  She was going to be involved, whether I liked it or not.  And I really didn't like it.

"I haven't heard anything."

"Well, if you do, you know how to reach me."

He dropped his gaze and turned his back to me, heading towards the door.  When Riley reached the threshold, he spoke, his voice deadly serious.

"Don't even consider for a moment, Xander, taking him out yourself.  I've heard rumors.  They say you're good at what you do, but this one is way out of your league."

I watched as Riley exited, a modern day, high-tech Van Helsing.  And he would need every advantage he and his men could muster in his hunt, because, as vampires went, Dracula didn't hold a candle to Angelus. 

* * * * *

"Riley left already?" asked Dawn, coming out of the bedroom as she spoke.

"Yeah, he left…the bastard."

"What's wrong?"

"What do you think?  I know you were eavesdropping.   Don't even bother trying to deny it."

Dawn spun to face me; her voice became harder as she confronted me. 

"Okay, I was listening.  Riley is after Angelus.  You were never a big fan of Angel's.  Why do have a problem with that?"

"Riley's planning to use Dru."

 "So?"

"I'm not going to let him do that."

I was bent over, adjusting my pants over the knives I'd strapped to my ankles, and wasn't paying too much attention.  I needed to go see Dru, see if I could stop this before it started.  Therefore, when I stood up and saw a large glass vase hurtling at my head, I barely managed to dodge it, letting it shatter behind me on the wall.

"What was that for?" I yelled.

"You…you idiot!"

Dawn was furious with me.  She was breathing heavily, almost panting, and I watched in fascination as her chest rose and fell.  Part of me twitched.  I blame my constant inappropriately timed horniness on growing up in Sunnydale, surrounded by demons and slayers.  Dangerous women had always gotten me hot.  Right now, Dawn was dangerous.

"Drusilla isn't some sweet thing you have to go rescue.  Besides, when she sees Angelus, she'll probably clap her hands in glee and do a happy dance."

"Angelus is more dangerous to everyone now, even Drusilla.  You know when everything went to hell, it drove Angel mad."

"Then they'll be a matched set.  Damn it, Xander, she's a vampire!  She loves children and puppies…as snacks.  She killed Kendra.  She's tried to kill you…how many times again?"

"Well, actually, she was trying to turn me…which does involve killing me first, but…"

"Aarghh!" Dawn screamed.

She started searching for something else to throw.  She dismissed the pillows on the couch as unworthy weapons, and her eyes settled on the lamp.  I had to stop her.  I liked that lamp. 

Striding forward, I grabbed her arms.  Big mistake.  Adrenalin was pouring through her because of her anger, and her instinct to protect herself kicked in.  Using my own momentum, she dropped backwards and flipped me over, sending me crashing into the wall. The glass of one of the pictures hanging on the wall cracked, but since it was of one of my parents, taken on an anniversary, I figured it was kind of appropriate.  But I had to stop this before it escalated.  So, instead of getting up, I clutched my side and moaned.

"Xander?" she said, concerned, pushing away the anger in her voice.

I gave another little groan and rolled back and forth a bit.  Dawn had been too young…no, in the fake monk memories of Dawn…she'd been too young to go on patrol with us, and she didn't know how many times I used to get knocked to the ground.  I think the record was sixteen times in one night.  Willow used to claim that it was really only fourteen, since twice I'd been knocked to the ground when Buffy pushed me out of the way of danger.   Dawn seemed pretty concerned as she rushed to my side, her hands fluttering around me, not knowing what to do. 

"Xander!  Oh, my God!  I'm sorry!  How badly are you hurt?"

"I'm okay…just need to get to the couch and get my breath back." 

Dawn was thoroughly buying my act, and I felt a little bad at the deception.  On the other hand, if I'd let the fight continue, I might really have been hurt, and she would've felt terrible.  I didn't mind the fact that Dawn had gotten physical.  It was in her blood.  Also, it was much preferable, in my opinion, to how she used to scream for me to go away, then lock herself in the bedroom and refuse to discuss anything.

With her arm around my waist, and my arm across her shoulders, she helped me sit on the couch.  I gave a huge wince, but when she looked at me funny, I toned it down a bit.     

"Can I get you anything?  Do you want some ice…or some Advil?"

"No, no…I'll be okay in a minute.  But can we sit and talk this out?  Please?"

With a sigh, she sat down next to me. 

"I just don't understand your fascination with Drusilla.  It's like you're obsessed."

"I'm not obsessed."

"Riiight.  You're always worried about her.  Is she being careful about sunlight?  Is she eating only healthy people?  It's sick."

"Dawn, I never told you, but I did something bad to Drusilla once…really, really Angelus-type bad.  I did it for a good reason, but…it haunts me."

We sat in silence for a few minutes.  I don't know what was going through Dawn's head, but I was remembering when I'd done my best to drive a sweet girl mad…and succeeded. 

"Xander, I'm going to ask you this once, and I'd like for you to be honest.  Are you in love with her?"

"No," I blurted out.  Then, after a moment, "Maybe."  I ended up shrugging. "I don't know."

She stood up then, and folded her arms across her chest.  Looking down at me, she bit her lower lip and then turned her back.  When she spoke again, it was so softly that I had to strain to hear it. 

"I think you need to go."

I rose from the couch.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"What?"

"You need to go…leave.  I think it'd be for the best."

"Dawn, sweetheart, I love you.  Drusilla and I…we've been over for a long time."

She turned and faced me. Her mouth was set in a firm line, and I knew that I'd seriously screwed up.

"It's not Drusilla…not entirely.  It's you.  You and your death wish."

"I don't have a death wish!  What makes you say that?"

"Ever since the Hellspawn came to Sunnydale, ever since we marched out to meet them, and some of us didn't march back again.  Ever since we buried our friends - you've been looking for a way to crawl into the grave with them."

"That's not true."

"It is.  You may have been fucking Drusilla, but it's always been death you had a hard-on for."

I glared at her, having heard more than I'd ever wanted to.  

"Maybe you're right.  Maybe I should go."

Stomping into the bedroom, I reached into the back of the closet and pulled out a duffle bag.  Within minutes, I'd filled it with a few days worth of clothes, my toothbrush, and deodorant.  Anything else I figured I'd either return to get in a day or two, or I could learn to live without.  All the while, Dawn stood and watched me, leaning up against the doorway, her arms still folded. 

When I strode past her and headed for the front door, she spoke. Her voice was trembling a bit, but when I looked at her, her eyes were dry.  She was too tough to cry.

"Where are you going?" 

She glanced away for a moment, then turned her gaze back to me and gave a little shrug.

"You know," she continued, "in case I need to get in touch with you or something and your cell phone's not working."

Dawn had hurt me and I was going to hurt her back. 

"Where do you think I'm going?"

For a moment, she looked at me blankly; then, what I said hit her. Her voice became high and shrill as she questioned me. 

"Her?  You're going to her?"

"One thing I can count on about Drusilla.  She'll always greet me with open arms…and legs."

The last thing I heard before I slammed the door behind me was Dawn's little gasp of pain. 

 * * * * *

Father Murry was a bit surprised to find me at his door at eleven o'clock at night, but he took one look at my face, then at the bag in my hand, and waved me inside. 

We'd become friends in the past decade.  For all of the differences there were between us - age, occupation, the fact that he was going to heaven and I wasn't-we had a lot of things in common.  We were both hands-on type of guys.  Others might moan and groan about what the world was coming to.  We were the type to get in and try to make it better, even if we got a little dirty in the process. 

He showed me to a small bedroom, then left for a moment, before returning with fresh sheets and towels that he handed to me.  With a nod, and a quiet 'We'll talk in the morning,' he closed the door.  Still holding the linens in my hand, I sat on the bed and stared at nothing for a while.

TBC