Title: Xander the Vampire Slayer?
Disclaimer: Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon own all the rights to the characters and locations in this story. I will make no money from this story.
Timeline: Starts in the season finally of Season one, jumps around a bit after that.
AN: Thank you for the help Merlin, it looks hella better. Also thank you Tenhawk for helping me choose a good, durable weapon.
Rating: Eventually NC-17
"True love is boring" he said "Say what?" "True love is boring." Roland repeated. "As boring as any other strong and addictive drug. And, as with any other drug." Roland to his katet Wizards and Glass Stephen King
OOC: For some fairly graphic violence.
Chapter Three
While the High Council was in session with Giles some of the other Watcher's went to the helicopter with Xander, one of them led her into a large training area inside the helicopter. Hundreds of weapons lined the walls from axes all the way to modern firearms. Xander walked up and down one of the walls, grabbing a weapon here and there testing it in her hands then putting it back. Every time Xander grabbed a weapon she would tilt her head to the side for a second, usually grin then put it back.
The Xander saw a weapon that looked almost like a tiny scythe to her, once again she tilted he head to the side this time she only closed her eyes for a moment. When Xander concentrated on the weapons in her hand she found that suddenly they felt a lot more comfortable in her hands. Xander began twirling them in her hands, as she unconsciously started going through kata she smiled the weapons were perfect.
"I see you've chosen the Kama, an excellent choice. It's both an offensive and defensive weapon." The Watcher said when he noticed Xander practicing with the kamas. "A very dangerous weapon to be sure, in the right hands they can be used to block or even capture and opponents weapons. Offensively even in the hands of a normal human it can be used to slice through an arm or even a persons leg."
Xander took the double mount off the wall and attached it to his lower back, turning he began to walk across the mat to the other wall. That was when the first man jumped in front of Xander, his intention to attack was obvious. He bowed slightly to Xander and went on the offensive, that's when the other Watcher started coming in.
The numbers kept coming and coming, until the room was filled. Immediately Xander's mind began to make calculations on it's own, estimating twenty opponents, calculating attack routes based on size and placement. It was funny, Xander had never thought about what must have gone on in Buffy's mind before a fight. He has always assumed that Buffy simply. fought, That was true of course, just not in a way that Xander had ever expected. The detached calculations were eerier and yet comforting, almost like having a beloved old homicidal Auntie in charge.
The first one moved and no thought was required, the synapses fired before Xander could inhale, and one opponent fell. Xander didn't even know what she had done before she was reacting to the next move, pulling in her attacker with a cross body block and sending him into a group of people in front of her with a palm to the ribcage. The attacks kept coming,, as did the counters. Xander watched from somewhere inside this new body, wondering how anyone could fight with breasts this large.
Somewhere in the midst of this thought though the onslaught had started for real, and suddenly Xander was on her back looking up at the advancing numbers. Pain shot through her left side and looking down to see blood through her tank top. Here was another thing Xander had never stopped to consider. Of course Xander knew that Buffy got injured. He himself had nursed her back to health or been part of the 'get better' watches the Scooby gang had held for Buffy on numerous occasions. As her body rose quickly, it occurred to Xander that wile he had been watching, never thinking that she had no choice whether to fight or not. Why would anyone fight through this much pain? Her body was away again, and now Xander realized there was a new verve in her step. Why? Well, because now Xander was angry, and she paid more attention to what she was doing. Before she was content to let the Spirit do what was needed, now Xander wanted to be at the fore.
An opponent came charging in and Xander went low, scooping up the attacker over her back and tossing him into a crowd advancing behind him. With a sweep Xander took two more down to the floor with her and came up with a spinning backhand, whip lashing the head of a female in front of her. The numbers game was adding up though, and she could only keep them at bay for so long. Not thinking, she looked up at the sound of a yelp in front of her. Without even realizing it Xander had broken the wrist of the last attacker with a particularly vicious block. Eons of births and deaths, centuries of incarnation whispered that this was natural; this was the way of battle. Xander's next jumping kick sent the broken-wristed fighter flying back and the next two blows brought the sound of snapping bones and screams of pain. Admittedly the hordes were slowing.but.
"can't we all just get along"
The pace of fighting never slowed for the quip, it continued on in that eerie silence that never seemed to be there when Buffy fought. Even though Xander had no problems with defenses, there was a self-conscious Alexander Harris in there somewhere who had natural defenses of his own. He had always believed that laughter was the best medicine, and if that was the case then silence, like the silent battle he was trapped in now, was the deadliest poison. Inside a raw part of him began to panic.
"Can you just stop? STOP ALREADY? Do you think I want this?"
No one from the Watcher's Retrieval units paused, but she did. A small whisper had started an avalanche somewhere in the back of Xander's head, and the fight continued as the thoughts poured out. Was Xander unhappy? These people were attacking her, trying to kill her for something that she had no control over, but was Xander unhappy? A seed deep within held more of Buffy then Xander would ever have had access to before. Was this not closer to Buffy Summers then anything? Even now she saw herself, doing things she had seen Buffy doing a hundred times before, but would never see her do again. Pain flared, she had taken a hit to the jaw, payment for the lack of focus. Buffy was gone, and all that was left of her was a fighting spirit trapped somewhere in this body with. Xander. Was he really unhappy? He had won over Angel, in the end Buffy had chosen to stay with him.
New thoughts and new understanding began to overtake the small guilt's and cuts this thought created in Xander. Xander was crushed that she was gone, but if a piece of her came alive when this spirit fought, then by God she'd five it a fight to remember. The panic of silence around him was replaced with a cool looseness of arms and legs. Given free reign, the spirit flourished, even under these impossible conditions. Four people came in from the left, and she blocked one, pushing him into the way of two more. A hard kick took one to the ground and a follow up side poking kick took down the one beside them. Dropping into a low cross stance, Xander knocked another opponent back with a back wrist to the kidneys. Grabbing two incoming punches, she wrapped their arms up and stood, dragging the two men with her. She swung the men around with the arm bar. The bulk of the two was keeping everyone away, but her back was exposed, and Xander knew this couldn't go on forever. She tried on last time.
"You guys wouldn't want to settle this with a game of 'Rock Paper Scissors' would you?"
The silence spans on as they stalk, and so she does the only logical thing her Slayer Spirit presents, she heaves up and snaps the arms of the two men in her possession. Both elbows bend at a ridiculous angle and pointed bulges appear under the skin as the men stagger back. They look at her and she shrugs with an 'I told you so' smile on her face. More rush in, and in one swift movement she unbuckles the weight resting solidly against each of her kidneys and spins her kamas out. The butt of each meets with an opponent on either side of her, snapping a forearm and crushing a jaw. Xander continues to spin, marveling that bone-breaking force is no longer harder then bruising force really. The Slayer Spirit bites a bit at the bridles, as the Kama blades stay safely tucked backward. There isn't a fight inside Xander exactly, more like a crossroads. The Watcher's retrieval unit continues to push through, despite the growing in injury list. Every Slayer is a delicate balance of personal experience and the force of the Slayer Spirit. In young girls, the necessity of killing comes slowly, in an older Slayer the option would come too easily. There was a balance that must be struck, and it was better to lose the one miraculous Slayer the not know where. it. stood in the balance of thins. Would it be able to balance itself? Would it non-female origins cause it to kill to readily? The blood shed here, no matter who's it was, would decide where the balance stood now, and what it would mean for good and evil alike..
Anyone who thinks a fight is without grace has never seen accomplished fighters. The dance going on in the helicopter now is as good as any Broadway production, as fine and flowing as the best dance recitals. A certain rhythm had been set for the combatant as each tried to gain the upper hand. The outcome should be obvious, 20 to 1 don't get much more predictable, and yet somehow this solitary female is holding on. To the casual observer it would look like something choreographed in Hollywood with wires and stunt doubles. To those involved in the fight it looked like a stalemate. She may seem solitary, but any female imbued with the Slayer Spirit can never be considered alone, and that unseen presence of thousands of dead girls is making all the difference. There are some things that must always be taught anew though, no matter how many times you teach it. These thousands of dead girls had all learned, but this host is not so pliable. His body has been Meta Morphed to meet the needs of the Spirit, and it would be hard to say that a bodiless Spirit harbors a sense of superiority, but this one actually does. It makes the task at hand all the more grueling. There is no independent thought in the spirit per se, but if there were, it would be thinking this.
"Why is this male not breaking?"
and
"Don't you see what's happening? You're changing. You've got powers you've only just begun to tap. Physical and mental prowess you've never dreamed of."
The Spirit had guided countless girls through ever era of humanity's evolution, and none had fought what was necessary as this one did. Now that he was more girl, why was this not going according to plan? So the Spirit bided its time, defending its body until the stubborn soul inside came to grips with reality. This 'Xander' soul wanted to deny the obvious, wanted to ignore that in a room of twenty opponents not one had been crippled badly enough to stopping coming back at them. That was fine, when he finally did see the truth of the matter, it would be a glorious weapon indeed.
Xander was getting tired. An odd thought, since Xander's body was performing just fine. It was the tugging at the leash that was breaking him down. His arm shot out in a blow that he instinctively knew would crush the windpipe of the recipient and with all his will he forced his leopard's paw to uncurl into a jab instead, sending the person back gasping instead of dying. The burn in her muscles wasn't going away now; it was taking its toll every time she had to restrain herself. Despite many broken bones the enemy showed no sign of slowing, and soon the flow and ebb of this battle would move out of her favor. She had intermittently begged, joked, pleaded, threatened, cajoled, screamed and tried to reason with her attackers. Of all the life lost, of all the fight scenes Xander had witnessed this one had to be the most pointless. Xander knew, without a doubt, that she was the superior fighter. Ass twenty to the number already here and they still would take unnecessary losses. They wouldn't acknowledge this though and as time wore on, Xander realized she was losing momentum. A hard slash to the cheek with a knife sent blood flying across her vision, and something stirred, not in the Slayer Spirit, but in Xander.
"How would Buffy have looked with this cut? Would you ever willingly have let her take a cut like this if you could stop it?"
That was it of course, the final straw in the match up. The one thing holding Xander back snapped like a spiders web in a fall breeze. His 'aversion' to violence had been borne from a need to protect Buffy, a need to give her a comfortable, passive retreat. Somewhere in his mind, he had sworn to let her see something else of the world in him. Something soft and peaceful that she would never have to fight. Now that urge was getting the only part left of Buffy killed, and Xander was letting it happen. The Slayer Spirit felt the change and reveled in this understanding, and once again the tides of battle turned.
Those here in the Watcher's Retrieval unit had acknowledged the rhythm of the fight in their own way, never applying deadly force but certainly building to it. The hesitation of their opponent had made them sloppy though, had drawn them into a comfortable loop around her. When the Kamas made their subtle change in direction, blades turning out instead of in, no one could have moved. No on even realized an important change in the fight had occurred until the first victim hit the floor with his throat torn out. Two more fell in a blur of movement, and the battle began in earnest. Xander looked down at the woman in front of her. It's funny, the toffee- like qualities of time. Xander stood staring at the glazed eyes, finding of the first time since Buffy's death.. peace.
For every self-doubt he had had, for every time he wondered if he should do something more, he felt vindicated. He had been right after all. This was disgusting, a travesty of beauty and splendor that life should be full of. To bring things to this would break the best person in time.. and Xander had been right. He could have never fought Buffy's battles; instead he fueled her desire to stay whole. His constant presence, acting as a reminder that there were people who needed the peace her blood and seat bought for them. Xander had felt weak sometime, his belief in his stance the only thing carrying him forward. Now Xander saw, he had been Buffy's backbone. As long as there were Xander Harris' in the world, gentle people who had no need for violence and power, she wanted this world to live. She had fought to stay whole, in the hopes she could some day live in it too. That life was gone now, she was all but gone.
The thoughts took only moments, as long as it took her first victim to hit the floor. By the time she looked up a spike shot to the temple and a tornado kick had taken out two more. The rest of them sensibly backed up, but with this final barrier broken there was no need for her to hold back. Two came at Xander, one going high with a knife shot, the other sweeping at her legs A double axe handle shot with the Kama to the neck of the knife wielder sent him down in a heap, and Xander leapt, coming straight down on the prone spine of the lowe3r attacker. A dry branch snapping, Xander took no notice of the sound as a spinning high kick cracked the other in the face of another man behind her. She leapt off the limp body under her and dove forward, immersing herself in more on comers. They dove after her, but she flipped onto her back, catching one on her feet and tossing him over her, dragging her Kama across his exposed belly on the way.
Eviscerated guts landed just above her head as the corpse fell above her. She swung out with the Kamas and everyone jumped back.. Kicking up , she used the momentum to send a face crushing head butt into the nearest opponent facing her, leaving them to drown in the blood rushing into their throat from the injury. Leaping up, she kicked off the chest of the off the chest of the almost dead man and swung forward horizontally, taking down a woman in front of her. She chopped the Kama down into the woman's chest, puncturing her heat, and bent back at the hips, laying flat on the woman's legs as a tai chi sword took a decapitating swing at her. Spinning her upper torso to the right she rolled off of the dead woman, bringing a Kama up into the groin of a man above her. He dropped in a fit of screams and was up again, crushing someone's skull at the temples with the butt of the Kamas. The dance continued with the lethal force taking no more effort then the bone crushing force it had taken.
In a few moments it is over, and now the silence is not threatening, it is peaceful. If she had her own Xander, there would be a witty, shaking remark, echoing through the room, but she did nor. What she has is a sense of satisfaction, like a cat by a fire the Slayer Spirit basks in the will and precision of its choice. Xander stared at the carnage and thinks, for the first time. 'I'm going to be ok.' That's when the bodies started to rise..
Disclaimer: Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon own all the rights to the characters and locations in this story. I will make no money from this story.
Timeline: Starts in the season finally of Season one, jumps around a bit after that.
AN: Thank you for the help Merlin, it looks hella better. Also thank you Tenhawk for helping me choose a good, durable weapon.
Rating: Eventually NC-17
"True love is boring" he said "Say what?" "True love is boring." Roland repeated. "As boring as any other strong and addictive drug. And, as with any other drug." Roland to his katet Wizards and Glass Stephen King
OOC: For some fairly graphic violence.
Chapter Three
While the High Council was in session with Giles some of the other Watcher's went to the helicopter with Xander, one of them led her into a large training area inside the helicopter. Hundreds of weapons lined the walls from axes all the way to modern firearms. Xander walked up and down one of the walls, grabbing a weapon here and there testing it in her hands then putting it back. Every time Xander grabbed a weapon she would tilt her head to the side for a second, usually grin then put it back.
The Xander saw a weapon that looked almost like a tiny scythe to her, once again she tilted he head to the side this time she only closed her eyes for a moment. When Xander concentrated on the weapons in her hand she found that suddenly they felt a lot more comfortable in her hands. Xander began twirling them in her hands, as she unconsciously started going through kata she smiled the weapons were perfect.
"I see you've chosen the Kama, an excellent choice. It's both an offensive and defensive weapon." The Watcher said when he noticed Xander practicing with the kamas. "A very dangerous weapon to be sure, in the right hands they can be used to block or even capture and opponents weapons. Offensively even in the hands of a normal human it can be used to slice through an arm or even a persons leg."
Xander took the double mount off the wall and attached it to his lower back, turning he began to walk across the mat to the other wall. That was when the first man jumped in front of Xander, his intention to attack was obvious. He bowed slightly to Xander and went on the offensive, that's when the other Watcher started coming in.
The numbers kept coming and coming, until the room was filled. Immediately Xander's mind began to make calculations on it's own, estimating twenty opponents, calculating attack routes based on size and placement. It was funny, Xander had never thought about what must have gone on in Buffy's mind before a fight. He has always assumed that Buffy simply. fought, That was true of course, just not in a way that Xander had ever expected. The detached calculations were eerier and yet comforting, almost like having a beloved old homicidal Auntie in charge.
The first one moved and no thought was required, the synapses fired before Xander could inhale, and one opponent fell. Xander didn't even know what she had done before she was reacting to the next move, pulling in her attacker with a cross body block and sending him into a group of people in front of her with a palm to the ribcage. The attacks kept coming,, as did the counters. Xander watched from somewhere inside this new body, wondering how anyone could fight with breasts this large.
Somewhere in the midst of this thought though the onslaught had started for real, and suddenly Xander was on her back looking up at the advancing numbers. Pain shot through her left side and looking down to see blood through her tank top. Here was another thing Xander had never stopped to consider. Of course Xander knew that Buffy got injured. He himself had nursed her back to health or been part of the 'get better' watches the Scooby gang had held for Buffy on numerous occasions. As her body rose quickly, it occurred to Xander that wile he had been watching, never thinking that she had no choice whether to fight or not. Why would anyone fight through this much pain? Her body was away again, and now Xander realized there was a new verve in her step. Why? Well, because now Xander was angry, and she paid more attention to what she was doing. Before she was content to let the Spirit do what was needed, now Xander wanted to be at the fore.
An opponent came charging in and Xander went low, scooping up the attacker over her back and tossing him into a crowd advancing behind him. With a sweep Xander took two more down to the floor with her and came up with a spinning backhand, whip lashing the head of a female in front of her. The numbers game was adding up though, and she could only keep them at bay for so long. Not thinking, she looked up at the sound of a yelp in front of her. Without even realizing it Xander had broken the wrist of the last attacker with a particularly vicious block. Eons of births and deaths, centuries of incarnation whispered that this was natural; this was the way of battle. Xander's next jumping kick sent the broken-wristed fighter flying back and the next two blows brought the sound of snapping bones and screams of pain. Admittedly the hordes were slowing.but.
"can't we all just get along"
The pace of fighting never slowed for the quip, it continued on in that eerie silence that never seemed to be there when Buffy fought. Even though Xander had no problems with defenses, there was a self-conscious Alexander Harris in there somewhere who had natural defenses of his own. He had always believed that laughter was the best medicine, and if that was the case then silence, like the silent battle he was trapped in now, was the deadliest poison. Inside a raw part of him began to panic.
"Can you just stop? STOP ALREADY? Do you think I want this?"
No one from the Watcher's Retrieval units paused, but she did. A small whisper had started an avalanche somewhere in the back of Xander's head, and the fight continued as the thoughts poured out. Was Xander unhappy? These people were attacking her, trying to kill her for something that she had no control over, but was Xander unhappy? A seed deep within held more of Buffy then Xander would ever have had access to before. Was this not closer to Buffy Summers then anything? Even now she saw herself, doing things she had seen Buffy doing a hundred times before, but would never see her do again. Pain flared, she had taken a hit to the jaw, payment for the lack of focus. Buffy was gone, and all that was left of her was a fighting spirit trapped somewhere in this body with. Xander. Was he really unhappy? He had won over Angel, in the end Buffy had chosen to stay with him.
New thoughts and new understanding began to overtake the small guilt's and cuts this thought created in Xander. Xander was crushed that she was gone, but if a piece of her came alive when this spirit fought, then by God she'd five it a fight to remember. The panic of silence around him was replaced with a cool looseness of arms and legs. Given free reign, the spirit flourished, even under these impossible conditions. Four people came in from the left, and she blocked one, pushing him into the way of two more. A hard kick took one to the ground and a follow up side poking kick took down the one beside them. Dropping into a low cross stance, Xander knocked another opponent back with a back wrist to the kidneys. Grabbing two incoming punches, she wrapped their arms up and stood, dragging the two men with her. She swung the men around with the arm bar. The bulk of the two was keeping everyone away, but her back was exposed, and Xander knew this couldn't go on forever. She tried on last time.
"You guys wouldn't want to settle this with a game of 'Rock Paper Scissors' would you?"
The silence spans on as they stalk, and so she does the only logical thing her Slayer Spirit presents, she heaves up and snaps the arms of the two men in her possession. Both elbows bend at a ridiculous angle and pointed bulges appear under the skin as the men stagger back. They look at her and she shrugs with an 'I told you so' smile on her face. More rush in, and in one swift movement she unbuckles the weight resting solidly against each of her kidneys and spins her kamas out. The butt of each meets with an opponent on either side of her, snapping a forearm and crushing a jaw. Xander continues to spin, marveling that bone-breaking force is no longer harder then bruising force really. The Slayer Spirit bites a bit at the bridles, as the Kama blades stay safely tucked backward. There isn't a fight inside Xander exactly, more like a crossroads. The Watcher's retrieval unit continues to push through, despite the growing in injury list. Every Slayer is a delicate balance of personal experience and the force of the Slayer Spirit. In young girls, the necessity of killing comes slowly, in an older Slayer the option would come too easily. There was a balance that must be struck, and it was better to lose the one miraculous Slayer the not know where. it. stood in the balance of thins. Would it be able to balance itself? Would it non-female origins cause it to kill to readily? The blood shed here, no matter who's it was, would decide where the balance stood now, and what it would mean for good and evil alike..
Anyone who thinks a fight is without grace has never seen accomplished fighters. The dance going on in the helicopter now is as good as any Broadway production, as fine and flowing as the best dance recitals. A certain rhythm had been set for the combatant as each tried to gain the upper hand. The outcome should be obvious, 20 to 1 don't get much more predictable, and yet somehow this solitary female is holding on. To the casual observer it would look like something choreographed in Hollywood with wires and stunt doubles. To those involved in the fight it looked like a stalemate. She may seem solitary, but any female imbued with the Slayer Spirit can never be considered alone, and that unseen presence of thousands of dead girls is making all the difference. There are some things that must always be taught anew though, no matter how many times you teach it. These thousands of dead girls had all learned, but this host is not so pliable. His body has been Meta Morphed to meet the needs of the Spirit, and it would be hard to say that a bodiless Spirit harbors a sense of superiority, but this one actually does. It makes the task at hand all the more grueling. There is no independent thought in the spirit per se, but if there were, it would be thinking this.
"Why is this male not breaking?"
and
"Don't you see what's happening? You're changing. You've got powers you've only just begun to tap. Physical and mental prowess you've never dreamed of."
The Spirit had guided countless girls through ever era of humanity's evolution, and none had fought what was necessary as this one did. Now that he was more girl, why was this not going according to plan? So the Spirit bided its time, defending its body until the stubborn soul inside came to grips with reality. This 'Xander' soul wanted to deny the obvious, wanted to ignore that in a room of twenty opponents not one had been crippled badly enough to stopping coming back at them. That was fine, when he finally did see the truth of the matter, it would be a glorious weapon indeed.
Xander was getting tired. An odd thought, since Xander's body was performing just fine. It was the tugging at the leash that was breaking him down. His arm shot out in a blow that he instinctively knew would crush the windpipe of the recipient and with all his will he forced his leopard's paw to uncurl into a jab instead, sending the person back gasping instead of dying. The burn in her muscles wasn't going away now; it was taking its toll every time she had to restrain herself. Despite many broken bones the enemy showed no sign of slowing, and soon the flow and ebb of this battle would move out of her favor. She had intermittently begged, joked, pleaded, threatened, cajoled, screamed and tried to reason with her attackers. Of all the life lost, of all the fight scenes Xander had witnessed this one had to be the most pointless. Xander knew, without a doubt, that she was the superior fighter. Ass twenty to the number already here and they still would take unnecessary losses. They wouldn't acknowledge this though and as time wore on, Xander realized she was losing momentum. A hard slash to the cheek with a knife sent blood flying across her vision, and something stirred, not in the Slayer Spirit, but in Xander.
"How would Buffy have looked with this cut? Would you ever willingly have let her take a cut like this if you could stop it?"
That was it of course, the final straw in the match up. The one thing holding Xander back snapped like a spiders web in a fall breeze. His 'aversion' to violence had been borne from a need to protect Buffy, a need to give her a comfortable, passive retreat. Somewhere in his mind, he had sworn to let her see something else of the world in him. Something soft and peaceful that she would never have to fight. Now that urge was getting the only part left of Buffy killed, and Xander was letting it happen. The Slayer Spirit felt the change and reveled in this understanding, and once again the tides of battle turned.
Those here in the Watcher's Retrieval unit had acknowledged the rhythm of the fight in their own way, never applying deadly force but certainly building to it. The hesitation of their opponent had made them sloppy though, had drawn them into a comfortable loop around her. When the Kamas made their subtle change in direction, blades turning out instead of in, no one could have moved. No on even realized an important change in the fight had occurred until the first victim hit the floor with his throat torn out. Two more fell in a blur of movement, and the battle began in earnest. Xander looked down at the woman in front of her. It's funny, the toffee- like qualities of time. Xander stood staring at the glazed eyes, finding of the first time since Buffy's death.. peace.
For every self-doubt he had had, for every time he wondered if he should do something more, he felt vindicated. He had been right after all. This was disgusting, a travesty of beauty and splendor that life should be full of. To bring things to this would break the best person in time.. and Xander had been right. He could have never fought Buffy's battles; instead he fueled her desire to stay whole. His constant presence, acting as a reminder that there were people who needed the peace her blood and seat bought for them. Xander had felt weak sometime, his belief in his stance the only thing carrying him forward. Now Xander saw, he had been Buffy's backbone. As long as there were Xander Harris' in the world, gentle people who had no need for violence and power, she wanted this world to live. She had fought to stay whole, in the hopes she could some day live in it too. That life was gone now, she was all but gone.
The thoughts took only moments, as long as it took her first victim to hit the floor. By the time she looked up a spike shot to the temple and a tornado kick had taken out two more. The rest of them sensibly backed up, but with this final barrier broken there was no need for her to hold back. Two came at Xander, one going high with a knife shot, the other sweeping at her legs A double axe handle shot with the Kama to the neck of the knife wielder sent him down in a heap, and Xander leapt, coming straight down on the prone spine of the lowe3r attacker. A dry branch snapping, Xander took no notice of the sound as a spinning high kick cracked the other in the face of another man behind her. She leapt off the limp body under her and dove forward, immersing herself in more on comers. They dove after her, but she flipped onto her back, catching one on her feet and tossing him over her, dragging her Kama across his exposed belly on the way.
Eviscerated guts landed just above her head as the corpse fell above her. She swung out with the Kamas and everyone jumped back.. Kicking up , she used the momentum to send a face crushing head butt into the nearest opponent facing her, leaving them to drown in the blood rushing into their throat from the injury. Leaping up, she kicked off the chest of the off the chest of the almost dead man and swung forward horizontally, taking down a woman in front of her. She chopped the Kama down into the woman's chest, puncturing her heat, and bent back at the hips, laying flat on the woman's legs as a tai chi sword took a decapitating swing at her. Spinning her upper torso to the right she rolled off of the dead woman, bringing a Kama up into the groin of a man above her. He dropped in a fit of screams and was up again, crushing someone's skull at the temples with the butt of the Kamas. The dance continued with the lethal force taking no more effort then the bone crushing force it had taken.
In a few moments it is over, and now the silence is not threatening, it is peaceful. If she had her own Xander, there would be a witty, shaking remark, echoing through the room, but she did nor. What she has is a sense of satisfaction, like a cat by a fire the Slayer Spirit basks in the will and precision of its choice. Xander stared at the carnage and thinks, for the first time. 'I'm going to be ok.' That's when the bodies started to rise..