Title: The Dopplegang Effect
Author: Becka
Chapter 16: Humpty-Dumpty
o
Charles Xavier slowly came to awareness. A cursory glance revealed both he and Eric were trapped inside some sort of cell. He brushed his fingers against his neck, not really surprised when they encountered a cold, metal collar.
He dragged himself over to where his friend lay, whispering gently, "Eric. Eric, can you hear me?" and was rewarded with a groggy, "... Charles...?"
"Thank God." For a moment, Xavier had been afraid his friend had been permanently damaged in their journey here.
"Good to see you're both still alive," a rumbling voice laughed from outside their prison. Sinister stepped into view, and even with the distance between them, Xavier felt his blood run cold. Sweat condensed on his palms, and he fought to keep his voice from giving any sign that the dark mutant's presence disturbed him.
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to share why you brought us here?" he asked quietly.
"For wholly selfish reasons, I assure you," Sinister replied with a smile. "I wanted you to have front row seats to this little drama of mine."
"Eric needs medical attention."
"I don't doubt it. One of my doctors will be here shortly to tend to your comrade. That is, after we've finished our little discussion."
The calmness with which Sinister spoke frustrated Xavier, but surprise prompted him to answer, "You would leave us alone with one of your men? Don't you fear we might escape?"
"Please," the other replied, sounding mildly offended, "What do I have to fear? Mr. Lenscher is in no condition to go anywhere, and I highly doubt you would leave him. Beyond that, even if you could forgive yourself for abandoning him, how far could you possibly get? With that collar, you are nothing but a helpless cripple. And even if you _did_ somehow manage to escape, you're no match for my Doppelganger."
Sinister was correct, of course. He sent a silent prayer to his X-men and asked, "Alexander?"
"He may have been Alexander at one time, but now he is nothing more that what I make him," the dark man said softly, echoing Magneto's earlier words with a smile. A sick understanding dawned on Xavier as Sinister continued pleasantly, "Do you know why I chose the name 'Doppelganger,' my dear Professor?"
Xavier placed a gentle hand on Eric's arm for support and responded, "I assumed it was because of his mutation."
The other man shook his head, never losing his maniacal grin. "Not quite. You see, by definition, a doppelganger is a double. But there are legends about them as well; it's said that when one sees their doppelganger, they're fated to die that same day. I found it very... fitting. You, of all people, should appreciate that. After all, you did come up with that novel concept of giving mutants names that reflect their abilities, an emphasis on self rather than the past, wasn't it? And once my boy has absorbed what he needs from the mutants he will meet, there will be no more need for the mutants, you see?"
"You controlled Eric. You used him to create Alexander." There was no heat in the words. Xavier already knew what the answer would be.
"I also selected two of the sorriest excuses of humanity to raise him." Sinister laughed, and the sound made Xavier flinch. "Can't you see the irony? A mutant taught to hate humans by humans themselves."
There was a soft hiss as the door opened, and a timid man in a white lab coat entered. He carried a portable MedUnit, and at Sinister's nod, he sat down beside Magneto and began to work.
"It was lovely talking with you, Professor. Perhaps we can continue this after I've destroyed the world." The mutant laughed, and Xavier could _hear_ the madness in his voice. With that parting line, he swept out of the room, leaving Charles with a sense of dread.
o
Sometime after the doctor finished patching Magneto up, the white-haired mutant slowly opened his eyes. He found his old friend staring at him, and the expression on his face was concerned. Eric couldn't ever remember seeing Charles look so very, very old.
Xavier stared at Eric for a moment and said quietly, "Did you know Sinister has been controlling you these past years?"
"What?" His voice was tense and he struggled to sit upright.
Two warm hands gently assisted him without question.
"I don't know how he's done it; you're far too controlled to be manipulated through the use of drugs alone," Xavier continued as if in a trance. "My best guess is that whatever he used simply fed on your desires for a world dominated by mutants. At one time, you might have cared that it was your son who you used, but that never crossed my mind back then. If it had, I don't suppose you and I would be locked in this cell."
"Charles." There was a warning in Eric's voice, but Xavier didn't seem to notice.
"It was right in front of my nose, Eric, but I was too blind to see it. And you were too blinded by your damned ideals to fight it." The voice that spoke was a rasp. "We've both done so much harm, old friend. I don't know if this is a relief to me, or simply another burden. All these years, I always blamed myself. I always wondered if I'd accepted your relationship with Mystique, perhaps our friendship wouldn't have ended the way it did. Now I know that Sinister used her as well, to drive us apart. How much easier was it for him, do you think, that we fought each other?"
Xavier paused for a moment, and the expression in his eyes hardened a little. "Even so, if I'd only _looked_ at you, seen what was in your mind and heart, perhaps I could have stopped this. That was the problem, though, Eric. I didn't _want_ to know what was in your heart. Because if I had, if I had _felt_ the love you felt for her, it would make it real."
He mumbled softly, "I didn't want it to be real, Eric."
The two of them regarded each other for a while, and Magneto said quietly, "You're rambling, Charles. We can't change the past."
There was another uncomfortable silence, and Xavier responded, "Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it."
"We can't change anything from in here."
"But we can strive to understand. "
o
Dual felt uneasy. He'd dreamed the night before, though he didn't remember what his dreams were about, but he couldn't shake the strange sense of foreboding that swept over him. Now, his Master had summoned him, and he was on his way to the Control Room, but something in him was screaming at him to just leave. It didn't matter where, just run away, get away, and not have to deal with this war and these ideals that he didn't even remember believing in.
Perhaps the Master would be able to help him. He'd been supportive and understanding, and maybe all the doubts and worries he felt were just some sort of side effect from his mutation. Genetics was a touchy subject, he rationalized, and Sinister had said he might feel some side effects.
Reaching his location, he took a deep breath before entering. His Master stood at the center of the room, staring at the largest monitor. Images of the X-men and the Brotherhood flashed there; some of them he'd seen in his training, but others were completely new to him. There were pictures of violent battles, of the mutants they fought bloodied and broken. All in all, Dual found it extremely distasteful.
"Master," he said quietly.
"Have you come to give me your report?" the other mutant said, his eyes never straying from the screen. There was a sort of sick pleasure on his face that the dark-haired man had never seen before. On the other hand, perhaps he had seen it and had refused to admit it. The thought worried him.
"Actually, I was sort of hoping you could help me with something," Dual replied honestly. "You were right about the mission. I wasn't ready to face Wolverine, and there was another man with him. They didn't see me, but... I wasn't ready, Master."
Sinister was strangely silent, so Dual continued quickly, "You said that I could have time. And I think I need that time, now. I mean, I don't remember _any_ of this. There are flashes, images and words, but how can I fight for you completely if I don't even know what I'm fighting for? I thought... I mean, revenge helped me through the treatment, but I don't think I was thinking _clearly_, y'know? And-"
"You wish to leave me." The older mutant regarded him with a strange sort of smile. "That is what all of your babbling comes down to, is it not?"
Dual shook his head frantically. "That's not _it_ though. I don't want to leave you, but I _do_ want some time to try to get my head straight. After everything you've done for me, I don't think I'd feel right unless I could give you everything I have. You understand that, don't you?"
The dark-haired mutant slumped with relief when his Master responded quietly, "I understand completely, my dear Doppelganger," and he was about to thank the older man when Sinister held up what appeared to be a small control.
"It's such a shame," said a voice filled with laughter. "I would have preferred that it didn't come to this. I was actually starting to like you, boy." With that, he turned one of the knobs all the way to the right.
o
Sinister watched with impersonal coldness as his pet fell to his knees, crying out in pain. He watched as the man's hands reached up to tear at his hair, and how he shook his head violently from side to side. He watched as the minutes passed and the man once known as Xander finally fell to the floor lifelessly.
"Stand up," Sinister said.
The man stood up. His red eyes held no emotion.
"Report yesterday's events."
The man's voice was eerily toneless as he said, "Yesterday's mission was a complete success. I infiltrated the X-men's base undetected, retrieved both targets, and brought them here without being seen."
"Excellent," Sinister replied, his eyes straying back up to the monitor where an image of Wolverine, snarling like a beast, flashed on the screen. "Is there anything else?"
"No, Master." The man's eyes followed Sinister's and he stared at the image.
"I think it's time to extend a welcome to the X-men, don't you?" The older mutant no longer bothered to look at his pet; the ruse of concern was no longer necessary.
"If you wish, Master," came the lifeless response.
"I very much do."
If Sinister turned around at that moment, he would have been surprised to find two twin streaks on the man's face, as a steady stream of tears cried from two dead eyes. It might have worried him a little, because those tears meant that Xander Harris wasn't as far from the surface as he believed.
In fact, he was screaming and pounding on the bars of his cage, begging someone to let him out of his own mind.
o
"You sure this 'ere's a good idea, mate?" Spike asked quietly as the Blackbird went through its final preparations for landing.
"No," came the surly response. At least, the blonde thought it was a "no." It might have just been a particularly harsh grunt.
Spike took a moment to stare at the other members of the team as they strapped themselves down. Warren's wings were folded comfortably over the back of his chair, but he kept shifting them. His face was tense. Logan was chewing furiously on the end of a cigar, and the vampire felt it was in his best interest not to mention that it wasn't lit. Every so often his claws would pop out with a snikt, then retract into his forearm slowly. Scott was in the pilot's seat, and he didn't look nervous, but then, he had a plane to land.
They'd gotten the message roughly forty-five minutes ago. It was a simple video-feed of a tall, dark mutant with a voice like an avalanche. Spike had seen demons that looked less wicked. The mutant, Sinister, had given them a short set of directions and told them if they wanted Xavier, Magneto, and Alexander back, they'd have to come and get them. The vampire didn't like the way the mutant had smiled when he'd said Xander's name, nor did he like the hint of laughter in the man's voice, but there was little choice in the matter. He gave them an hour to arrive before he killed one of them.
Jean had stayed at the Institute; without her powers there was nothing she could contribute. And Ororo had volunteered to stay with her, in case Sinister's message was some sort of trap to leave the Institute unguarded. Not that it seemed to matter much. After all, someone had gotten in the night before and made off with both Magneto _and_ Xavier right under their very noses.
Overall, Spike wasn't too worried. The sunlight was beginning to fade, and it would be dark enough that he could fight. He was a vampire, a creature that Sinister's men probably didn't even think was real. Sure, they might be able to hurt him, but what were the odds of one of them staking him or cutting his head off? Plus Logan had been considerate enough to ask him if he was hungry before they'd left, and had surprisingly offered his own arm. There was power in the mutant's blood, same as there had been in Xander's, and it coursed through him like fire.
It wasn't until they landed and saw Sinister and the only mutant that stood by his side that Spike started to worry.
He stared into Xander's unseeing eyes and wondered what the hell was going on.
o
One of the dark panels in the cell flickered to life. Charles stared at it for a moment, then gently prodded his old friend awake.
"What's going on, Charles?" Magneto mumbled as he slowly opened his eyes.
"Sinister apparently wants us to watch-" Xavier's response was cut short as he recognized his Blackbird landing. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, and an overwhelming sense of dread filled him. He had faith in his X-men. But Sinister wouldn't have brought them unless there was something up his sleeve.
o
There was a calm before every storm. The X-men took in Xander's appearance - the curious tail, the blood red eyes, the blank expression - and Sinister simply watched them, unholy joy written plainly on his face.
The man grinned like a lunatic, running a gloved hand through Xander's shaggy, dark hair. He regarded his unwilling audience, noting with pleasure their horrified and sickened looks. Xander seemed unaware of anything; his empty eyes remained fixed on the ground.
Scott finally broke the silence, his voice strangled. "What the fuck did you _do_ to him?"
Still smiling, Sinister replied, "I made him mine, dear boy." He glanced at Warren, noting the feathery wings with curiosity, and continued, "You remember what it was like, I think. Perhaps, I'll let you live, just to hear you scream when I rip your wings off again."
A vicious snarl marred Warren's angelic face. "Bastard."
"Ah ah. Temper, my dear Archangel." Sinister glanced at Logan with a small smile, then his gaze came to rest on Spike. "And who is this? A new mutant for your cause?"
"Name's Spike. Don't suppose you'd be willin' to let Xan-pet o'er there go?" The blonde's smile was all teeth. "It'd save me the trouble o' kickin' the crap out o' you."
"Such spunk! I like you already. Perhaps I'll let you live, as well." Sinister laughed, "Then again, perhaps not. Doppelganger?"
"Yes, Master?" Xander's voice was as blank as his face.
"Kill them."
There was the barest hesitation before he replied, "Yes, Master."
In the blink of an eye, Xander spread his wings wide, ice creeping along them until he became a living sculpture of ice. With a powerful flap, he took to the air and dove straight for them.
o
Magneto tried to look away from the screen, but Xavier grabbed his head in a surprisingly strong grip and forced him to watch. There was no sound, and the camera was too far away for them to make out what anyone was saying. It seemed too surreal for words.
When Xander spread his wings, and ice encased his body, Charles finally found his voice.
"Your _son_," he said fiercely. "My God, Eric. Look what you've done to your _son_."
Something inside Magneto seemed to break, and he weakly repeated, "My... son."
o
The battle was a joke. Xander was faster, stronger, and more powerful than both the X-men and Spike combined, and it was all they could do to keep alive. Beyond that, no one's heart was truly in the fight. How could it be when Xander was their opponent?
Warren tried to take to the air, only to have Xander zip behind him and deliver an elbow to the back of his neck. The blonde angel crashed to the ground.
Scott aimed his laser at one of Xander's wings to even up the fight, but the dark-haired mutant dodged effortlessly, sending a razor-sharp icicle at one of the nearby trees. It snipped a heavy branch cleanly off, which fell to the ground and pinned Scott facedown beneath it. As Logan moved to help their unconscious leader, Xander darted forward and spear-tackled the older mutant, slamming him through several trees.
"Enough of this." Sinister waved his hand impatiently. "Kill them _now_."
"Yes, Master."
Xander stood still for a moment, and Spike wondered what was going on. A strong gust of wind whipped around the area, growing stronger until it was like a raging tornado with the dark-haired man at its calm center. Pure, mindless power built around him, so thick that it could be seen. It swirled with dark fury, building until Xander was nothing more than a shapeless silhouette.
It was fire and ice, darkness and light, and for a moment Spike found himself lost in the simplistic beauty of it all. It took him a moment to realize where all that power came from, but when he did, he found himself amazed. It was impossible, really. Oil and vinegar were not meant to mix, but somehow Xander had done just that. He'd blended the primal fury of fire and the ageless beauty of ice and it raged around them, freezing and burning and building.
The blonde glanced around him. Scott was out cold, but Warren had crawled over to him and pushed the tree branch out of the way. The winged mutant was now draped protectively over him, shielding the unconscious man. Logan was groggily shaking his head, and the vampire suddenly realized that _he_ was the only one who was in any position to stop Xander.
Without a thought for his own safety, ignoring everything but the man who he'd come to realize meant more to him than life itself, Spike pushed himself off the ground and dove headfirst into that power.
o
He didn't remember who he was. Was he Dual? Was he Xander? All he knew was that he was trapped, and he couldn't find his way out.
There was power around him, pure, mindless power, and it burned so badly but he couldn't let it go. He was dying, he supposed, and it seemed as though he was taking everyone on the planet with him, but it didn't matter. He'd called on the power, but he no longer controlled it. It twisted and writhed around him like a living creature, and everything kept building and building, and the more he thought about it, the more he fed it, and the more he fed it, the stronger it became, and he knew it was his fault; it was all his fault, and he felt so very, very lost-
o
Spike felt his skin crackling, smelled the unique scent of burning flesh, and knew it was his own. It was like someone was holding a magnifying glass over his head, focusing sunlight ten thousand times brighter on every inch of his skin. He dismissed the pain. He had to get to Xander.
He could no longer see, but he knew he was close. Reaching his arms out, he found Xander. Everything was so bright, so hot. Pulling the other man into a tight embrace, a voice he didn't recognize as his own whispered, "Don't do this, pet. Please, this isn't you."
o
- two cool, gentle arms wrapped around him, bringing him back to himself, and though the power still burned around them, it couldn't touch him anymore. A voice whispered in his ear, "Don't do this, pet. Please, this isn't you."
He heard himself whisper, "Spike?" and he _remembered_. He remembered the cocky smile, the cigarette that perpetually dangled from pale lips, the bright blue eyes, the crooked scar, the shock of bleach-blonde hair. He could smell the mix of stale smoke, old blood, and Weetabix. He could feel the magnificent _cold_ -
o
"Spike?" he heard Xander whisper back. He heard the recognition and he didn't think they were going to make it, but it was enough to just _hold_ the other man and hope that he could protect him from whatever might come.
Power surged around them again, and Spike felt himelf slipping, but he refused to let go. Not after he'd come so far. He had to tell Xander that he loved him, had to hear the disbelief and the snarky comeback, had to spend the rest of his life convincing the whelp that he meant it. He couldn't die until then. He _wouldn't_ die.
o
- the power surged again, but he didn't want it to end like this. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to kill. He just wanted -
- burning him, burning everything, and there was nothing left -
- burning, burning, nothing left -
- nothing left but... -
- "SPIKE!" he screamed, and the power around them buckled, no longer sure of what it was called to do, and the only place left for it to go, the only place open to it was the very man who called it, who pulled everything back into himself -
- there was pain, and the world around him shattered, and he knew nothing more.
o