Warrior of the Heart
Author: JimboS
Email: RaistlinM1@aol.com
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. They belong to a person who is much more creative than me.
Feedback: Yes please!
Author note: I moved to the past tense in this chapter, I like this way better and I hope you all do too. Also it has been a while since I last updated this story, so if you want to brush up on what has been happening the rest of this can be found at http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=474395.
Dedication: This chapter is going out to all the ladies out there, actually this one goes out to Lori Bush because if I hadn't read "Secure Yourself to Heaven" I would have never written anything. And of course MJ gets a shout out.
Special Thanks: I would like to thank Wicked Raygun for the wonderful beta work. I hope that one day I won't need his corrections, but I will always value his input.
Chapter 10
The Journal of Alexander Harris
From the beginning of time the world has adhered to one simple rule for the great game of life: 'Only the Strong Survive'. The great circle of life is forever perpetuating itself and constantly improving the players. From a bacterium's battle against an antibiotic to the great African Elephants roaming across the land in search of water during drought, everything on this planet faces the challenges of life and either becomes stronger for it or they don't move on.
As human beings we have lived by the rule as well and in surviving we become stronger and better for it. We are like a piece of iron melting in a forge. Our impurities are burned away with each trip through the flame as we are hammered and shaped by the road we take. It is our journey from a brittle useless piece of ore into a shiny and strong work of art.
However, since the beginning humanity has sought to dominate nature and, in so doing, bending and breaking the rule of the Earth. Man has tempered the flame and softened the road, undermining the journey and the integrity of humanity. Over the course of history humanity has let the spirit of the trial slip away and, along with it, the warrior spirit it bred.
Pacifism has become not only accepted but also encouraged, and I want to say that it is the wrong direction for the human race, but I can't. I don't wish for anyone to experience the violence that comes from the trial by fire, but I couldn't tell you that is the reason I fight.
Oh sure, when I sit down and watch a group of children running, laughing, and playing in a park or on a front law, I feel better for carrying the standard against the army of darkness, but I can't keep that image with me for long. Eventually the laughter of children is replaced by the roar of a vampire, and the chapters of your life become punctuated by the battles you fight.
If you fight long enough, the grand purpose ceases to exist in everyday life. It just hangs in the background, staying there so long that you no longer notice it; it just is. You begin to fight for your comrades in arms who become your family, friends, and your whole world, who you trust with your life as they entrust you with theirs.
Sometimes I want to drive into a bar by the military base and swap war stories with roughnecks and just revel in the feel of belonging, but I can't because I am on the ultimate block op. When I die, my family won't get a medal or a letter explaining how their son died in the service of humanity. I will be consigned to the Earth with the other veterans of this secret war with no fan fair and maybe a touching eulogy, but to tell you the truth, I don't want a medal or a statue in my honor.
Besides, I don't think they would be able to get my nose right.
Xander Harris
* * *
Awareness slowly returned to Xander as morning broke upon the town of Sunnydale, as he tried to orient himself with the outside world, his synapses started to fire anew, and a dull throbbing pain manifested itself throughout his head. His mind began to dispel the obscuring fog that filled his head, while the sun also started its arduous process of burning away the thick black clouds of pollution that emanated from distant Los Angeles and blanketed the small town during the night.
Unfortunately for Xander, the first faculty that returned to him was his sense of smell. His nostrils flared as the stale stench emanating from the piles of garbage and the puddles of urine and vomit swirled together and invaded his nose. Xander instinctively expelled the tainted air from his nose with a vehement snort and valiantly tried to push his thoughts away from the foul stench causing the faint throbbing in his head to intensify.
Through the haze he heard a distant noise that sounded in a two beat pattern. The noise sounded too far away to be important, but a small tickle in the back of his mind told him that it was something that needed his attention. Xander tried to focus his attention on the beats valiantly pressing through the fog surrounding his mind, trying to draw closer to the distant sound.
As Xander tried to concentrate on the sound the pain in his head changed from a dull throb to a resounding crescendo, which threatened to drown out the distant knocking entirely, yet he pushed himself onward. Pushing the pain away he tried to bring the noise into focus yet the distant beating became confused and distorted by the pounding pain in his head. The pain felt like pressure surrounding his mind, bulging inward with each increase of thunderous torment and impeded his mind's progress toward the distant noise, yet he followed the distant noise with a dogged determination.
It took Xander five minutes to identify the noise as footsteps, another two minutes to figure out that the footsteps were getting closer, and a full minute for his brain to finally figure out that approaching footsteps was a bad thing. Something about the footsteps did not seem right; yet the more he struggled to wrap his mind around the problem the further away it withdrew.
He tried to open his eyes to identify the approaching person yet as soon as the light hit his retina the constant dull throb became a white hot blinding inferno of screaming brain cells. Xander quickly snapped his eyes shut, blocking out the light and plunging himself back into soothing darkness.
On instinct, Xander tried to tap into his center to find the power and concentration needed to send his consciousness outward to identify whom the approaching footsteps belonged to, but he was met with a strange feeling. Xander felt nothing; there was no warm glow, no peaceful calm, and no rolling, thundering inner strength that always seemed to reach out to caress and comfort. Instead he only found empty space, a cold nothingness without life or movement.
After a few minutes of wallowing in the cold nothingness where he once found such comfort and strength, Xander found that the cavernous void was not entirely lifeless. In the center of the cold space resided a small flame where there once was an inferno. The flame flickered and danced like a candle in the wind winking in and out of existence, keeping the same tempo as the constant throbbing in the back of the young man's head.
Xander focused all of his energy on to the dancing flame, pushing it outward when it sparked and kept it steady when it winked causing the dull throb to once again escalate into a steady pounding. In spite of that, he continued to try to coax the flame into a fire by pushing himself through the pain, the pounding pain increasing in tempo and intensity.
Xander devoted himself to the flame with unwavering intensity, watching it grow at an excruciatingly slow pace while the explosive pain ceased to come in bludgeoning beats and became a burning sword of anguish cutting into his resolve and severing his concentration. He let his focus slip away, as the slicing searing pain once again became a rhythm of bone crushing beat. The bludgeoning broke Xander's concentration completely, forcing him to slip away from his center only to find that the stranger was far too close.
* * *
Of course while the outside word was not privy to Xander's internal struggle, it was made apparent when he began to thrash and struggle against imaginary bindings while pained pitiful moans escaped his lips. The sudden commotion drew the attention of the stranger, who had unwittingly started the entire struggle. The stranger warily approached the struggling young man, the normal quick two beats separated by a slight apprehensive pause.
The stranger tried to move forward quietly, yet the footsteps seemed to echo harshly off of the brick alley in abrasive, abrupt beats that a normally lucid Xander would have identified as the distinctive sound of high-heeled shoes. The red leather shoes cautiously approached Xander, who continued to thrash about like a hooked marlin. Xander's struggling seemed to increase when the stranger grew closer then suddenly the young man quieted and ceased to move entirely.
Fearing the worst the strange quickly moved to Xander's side and kneeled down to cradle the young man's head while feeling for a pulse.
"Xander. Wake up, Xander," intoned the feminine voice softly, while she gently slapped his cheeks. "Xander, you need to wake up because this alley really smells and I'm going to have to go and take a shower before school starts, and by the smell of it so could you."
Her slender fingers threaded themselves through Xander's dark hair, stiff with dried sweat and blood, straightening the tangles with a caring touch while she continued to lightly slap his cheeks causing them to turn a soft pink. The slaps only served to elicit more groans from Xander as the outside stimulus increased the strain on his concentration, making the pain increase as well.
The girl began to increase the strength of her slaps trying to bring the young man back from unconsciousness. The soft pink became a ruddy red as the blows fell heavier, yet her other hand continued to gently stroke Xander's head smoothing his hair and wiping his forehead.
"Please, wake up, Xander," she said gently as she pulled her hand back to strike him again, "I don't know how much harder I can hit you without leaving a bruise and school pictures are coming up."
It just so happened that Xander did 'wake up' when the stranger spoke, but he did not notice the pleading. Instead, his brain was focused on the pain from his cheek and the feeling of imminent danger. With that, his instincts took over.
Like a striking viper, his hand shot forward to grab the descending hand by the wrist; then he slid beneath the space created by the raised arm. Xander's movement showed no sign of the grace his movements normally exuded; instead, he scurried under the attacking appendage like a wounded rodent. His feet flailed about, trying to propel him around the obstacle, sometimes gripping but more often than not slipping, sending the attached leg outward and dropping his body painfully on his hip or ribs. Through the frantic scramble, Xander maintained his vice-like grip on his perceived opponent's wrist, dragging it with him around the stranger's back and wedging it against her, causing pain to spike in her shoulder.
It took a full minute for the insistent moans and whines coming from the trapped stranger to penetrate the last remnants of the fog that remained wrapped around Xander's mind. With a violent shake of his head, Xander cleared away the fog and focused his mind on his surroundings. When he was finally lucid, he found himself kneeling in a layer of garbage in the alley outside the bronze, holding an all too familiar person in a hammerlock
"Cordelia! What are you doing here," exclaimed Xander letting go of her wrist like it had burnt him.
Cordelia regained her footing and turned to face her assailant while working her arm around in circles and rubbing her shoulder trying to massage away the echoes of the pain and loosen the tensed muscles.
"You didn't show up at Giles, and I was worried, so I went out to look for you when morning broke. And what was with the Bruce Lee impression?"
"I'm sorry, Cordelia. I didn't know it was you," said Xander as he tried to regain his footing; however, as he changed his elevation, his vision of Cordelia shifted and bucked sending his head swimming and his legs buckling underneath him. Luckily, the alley wall was close behind him; so instead of landing painfully back in the squalor, he ended up slamming his back against the wall and remaining propped up against it.
"Are you okay? You don't look so good," asked Cordelia with a frown although she was already fairly sure of the answer.
She watched Xander lean heavily against the brick wall of the alley, propped up beside a large, wide, red mark that ran down the side of the wall and stopping before reaching the ground. The strange graffiti was left the previous night when Xander collapsed against the wall splattering the wall with the viscous liquid. His clothes, covered with the blood of his enemies and a little from himself, were more crimson than dye and felt stiff and course against his skin while his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat and blood with annoying tenacity. His dark red tinged hair stood out in stark relief against his pale skin, making the shadow under his cheekbones stand out and his face look gaunt and wan.
"I'm fine, just a little tired. I just need to rest for an hour or two or ten," answered Xander with his customary crooked grin that only ended up looking broken when worn with his currently sallow features. His unhealthy appearance and flippant remark made Cordelia's frown deepen and her gaze intensify.
Xander's nervous habit emerged under Cordelia's gaze, as he reached into his pocket to draw comfort from the familiar feel of his daggers. His fingers did not find the customary cool caress of the dagger's pommel; instead, his fingers clasped air and felt nothing.
Xander panicked. The absence of the daggers felt too much like the nothingness that resided in his core. He began to search the ground frantically looking for the telltale silvery sheen of the weapon. Xander scoured the filthy alley floor while his stomach contorted itself into a complicated pattern of knots until he finally spotted the precious weapon lying in a pile of garbage next to him.
"What is going on, Xander?" asked Cordelia making Xander jump and the knots in his stomach to straighten abruptly and then immediately curl and knot up again, which was not a pleasant experience.
Cordelia's smiled at Xander's reaction to her question, happy in the fact that she scared him almost as much as he scared her earlier. However the smile did not stay long, because when he jumped he lost the support of the alley and fell to his hands and knees in the pile of garbage beside him. Luckily, Xander had the presence of mind to grab the dagger and hastily slip it into his pocket and the harness strapped to his thigh, covering up the move by holding the blade against his forearm while pushing himself up into a kneeling position.
Xander tried standing up again; but, luckily, instead of falling against the wall again, he was met by Cordelia's delicate hands. With her help, he was able to stand up straight.
"Maybe I should just try and keep still for a while. My legs have either gone on strike or have amnesia."
"Actually, why don't we find a place to sit," said Cordelia as she led Xander to the door of the Bronze. Xander replied by giving Cordelia a grateful smile and then allowed her to lead him forward.
The sight that greeted them when Cordelia opened the door was a surprise to both of the spectators as their eyes took in the carnage that purveyed the scene. Tables and chairs were strewn about the room, some pieces of furniture standing upright while the majority were overturned in some way either on a side or upside down and, in one special case, a table tilted at a strange angle held up by several crooked chairs. Blood was splattered across the room; crimson lines running across the dark walls making them look like modern art pieces.
Cordelia's eyes traveled across the scene until they finally came to rest upon Xander who's face had turned cold and even except for his eyes that seemed to be a mixture of bewilderment and fear.
Holy shit! Did I do this?
"What happened here?" asked Cordelia when she finally found the ability to speak through the lump that had formed in her throat at the sight of the carnage. "It looks like a hurricane hit here, or they held a shoe sale after we left."
"I'm not exactly sure what really happened. Everything is a blur," responded Xander as he played for time. "I remember getting separated from you guys when we made our get away. I tried to run and find you guys but instead I ran into a bunch of thugs hanging out in one of the alleys. Literally, I ran right into the leader and knocked him onto his ass, right in front of his gang. But instead of accepting my apology, he thought it would be fun to see if he could spell out his name, which was William, in my chest with the biggest knife I've ever seen. I mean his name couldn't have been named Will or something for short? But no, I had to knock over a psychopathic, knife wielding, killer, who happens to like a challenge. So I ran."
Xander feigned a spell of momentary weakness and moved slower than necessary over to an overturned chair and righted it, giving his mind time to fill in the rest of the blanks of his fictitious tale, before he took his seat and resumed the story.
"I ran away without knowing or caring where I was going. I was too busy trying to lose the bloodthirsty gang behind me, and, unfortunately, I ended up right back at the Bronze where I started. Although, I guess you could say that it was fortunate because when I made it inside I found some of the gang of vampires waiting for me. Well when two bloodthirsty gangs meet the only thing that can happen is bloodshed because I remember the gangs fighting it out when both laid claim to me. I think I was able to crawl out during the confusion, but I don't really remember when or how."
For effect Xander ran a hand through his hair and looked at the dried flakes of blood that coated his hand with a wry smile, "I guess it's safe to say that I saw at least a little action."
"I wonder who won," asked Cordelia as she searched the room for some non-existent clues as to what happened last night.
"There doesn't seem to be any dust piles around, and since the weapon of choice for most of those guys wasn't a wooden stake, I'm thinking that we're going to be seeing a new group of vamps joining the ranks."
Xander was watching Cordelia walk through the room, righting chairs and avoiding large bloodstains, when he spotted a glint of metal. His other missing dagger was lying beside an overturned table that was luckily blocking Cordelia's view of the weapon. As quietly as possible, Xander stood up and walked over to the dagger. He knelt down behind the table to retrieve it then started to slide it into his pocket and the harness underneath.
"Xander, where are you," asked Cordelia loudly with more than a hint of worry. Xander jumped slightly behind the table and almost stabbed himself in the leg with the razor sharp weapon.
"I'm over here," said Xander as he stood up from behind the table. "I was looking around and slipped on a bit of blood. I think it'd be a good idea to outta here before we leave clues that are too big for even the Sunnydale PD to ignore. Besides, I need to get home to clean up before school starts and maybe catch a nap before I have to go to class and take my naps."
Xander and Cordelia carefully made their way to the back door then walked out of the alley and into the early morning streets of Sunnydale. Just when Xander turned to leave, Cordelia grabbed him by the shoulder, then spun him around to look him in the eye before surprising Xander by kissing him quickly and passionately.
"That was for not dying."
She then quickly turned and walked away as if nothing happened, leaving Xander touching his lips and staring at her retreating form, until he finally let out a sharp laugh, a mixture of amusement and astonishment, turned around and walked toward his house.
* * *
"Xander, where have you been?" shouted Willow when the young man entered through the school library's double doors and threw his backpack onto a nearby table.
Xander barely had time to plant his feet and bend his knees before the red head barreled into him and wrapped her arms around his chest. Xander felt his legs begin to weaken and threaten to buckle under the sudden change to his equilibrium point, so he turned with the impact and spun the slight young girl around once before depositing her back where she had been. The shower had quick nap he had taken before walking to school had gone a long way in reviving Xander's exhausted mind and body, but he still moved too slow for his own liking. Xander also found that all of his efforts to rejuvenate himself through meditation were met with the same psyche pounding results as his early morning jaunt into his center had.
"Cordelia went in search of you," said Giles from the upper level of the library. "I hope she was able to find you."
Xander let go of Willow, who began to carefully inspect her friend for any sort of injury from punctures to the neck to cuts and bruises, and looked at Giles incredulously before answering in a voice laced with sarcasm.
"Yeah, she found me. Of course, sending out a beautiful teenaged girl in high heels to wander the streets of Sunnydale during the dawn when every vampire and demon are looking for a little someone to grab and hold onto for a light lunch would not have been my first choice in strategy. I mean if you really wanted to give a present to the undead, say it with diamonds."
Giles' mouth fell open at the young man's unexpected criticism. The realization that he had taken a risk without even contemplating the consequences was a heavy blow to the librarian's self-confidence. He had been trained to think of everything yet when one of his self-appointed charges were in danger he lost his head and gave in to his impulse and endangered another, but what hurt the most was that Giles knew that he would do it again.
It might have been different, if it was Buffy. The slayer had a duty and a destiny along with the supernatural powers to help carry out that duty, but his other children, and that was how he saw them, were under no such obligation. He was forced to watch them fight with no powers or duty making the risks they took even greater.
With Giles awash in his own guilt and inner turmoil, he did not respond to Xander's accusation, so instead the task fell to Willow, who took up the mantle with vigor. The first thing that she did was to reach back as far as she could with her right hand before bringing it forward to slap a completely surprised and off-guard Xander. The second thing she did was burst into tears.
"How dare you accuse us of endangering others while trying to help you," she shouted at the stunned young man. "Weren't you the one who went charging into the Master's liar in search of Buffy? What did you think was going to happen to you if he had still been down there?"
Willow's tears continued to flow freely while her voice began to take on a hysterical urgency as she continued. "We didn't know if you were dead or dying somewhere calling for help. I've already lost one of my best friends to this damned town and I don't ever want to lose another, especially when we can do something to stop it."
After she finished, Willow fell forward into another embrace, gripping her best friend like a vice, and now it was Xander's turn to look guilty and hurt. Tenderly, Xander held onto his best friend, letting her soak the front to of his shirt, while tracing his hand along the curve of her back and whispering quiet comforts over and over. When Willow's tears finally subsided, Xander gently grasped her shoulders and moved backward to arms length.
"You're right. I'm so sorry. I kind of need to apologize to someone right now, can you give me a minute?"
"Okay, I need to go wash my face anyway," replied Willow with a nervous laugh, as she wiped at her tear stained face.
Xander watched Willow leave through the double doors with a sad smile and continued to watch as the doors swung back and forth, allowing only brief glimpses of his best friend. He wanted to chase after her and thank her for being so true, for caring so hard, and for loving so much, but instead he only watched and smiled.
The doors finally lost their momentum, leaving Xander with the varnished wood and two small windows in his vision. Xander turned and faced the man standing on the other side of the room. He could have sworn that he saw a tear in the librarian's eye, but bring it up would only embarrass the stoic Englishman.
"Funny thing about having a genius for a best friend, they always seem to be right."
Giles nodded instead of speaking, not trusting his voice to escape past the knot in his throat.
"I would've done the same thing in your place, and I would expect you to do the same thing for her or anyone else. You guys are my friends, hell my family, and I would do anything to see them safe. Actually, now that I think about it, I have done some pretty stupid things trying to do that. I guess what you did would kind of be considered amateurish compared to me."
Giles took a few more seconds to fight back the lump in his throat before swallowing it down and saying, "I was trained as a watcher to make a command decision when a member of my team was in danger. I was taught that the welfare of the team out weighs the life of the one, but I have stopped being in command of a team a long time ago. Instead, I have become the quasi-father to a band of innocent teenagers who are not watchers and who I am responsible for, and in so doing I can no long make the decisions my training dictates. The only decision I can make is to see you all safe and I know that that is not a decision, it is a dream."
"A dream that you will see come true," said Xander as he extended his hand toward the librarian. "Besides, maybe the Hellmouth is just weird enough for the odds to be screwed up in our favor."
Giles grasped the young man's hand, shook it firmly and could not help but laugh when faced with such youthful exuberance. "Indeed, if the laws of nature can be warped here, why not the laws of averages?"
"So when did Buffy show up last night," asked Xander with a smile, which instantly straightened and hardened when Giles could no longer met his gaze and started to examine his shoes.
"She still hasn't checked in. We were hoping that you went after her last night and were both together."
"I guess this is the part where you tell me that she can take care of herself and then I go anyway," said Xander as he turned to walk out the door. "I'll be back when I find her and then maybe we can have a talk about the burden of command."
Xander barely reached the doors when they swung open and connected with his hastily blocking forearms, sending the young man reeling backwards under the impact from the door, which caused his legs to buckle slightly and his feet to cross, stopping his retreat by painfully falling on his tailbone. Willow energetically entered the library with Cordelia and Buffy, who was still carrying the wooden box containing the Judge's arm, trailing behind her. The three young ladies were busy recounting the events of their night with Cordelia being the focus of the discussion as she described what happened that morning.
"So I find him passed out in the alley behind the Bronze with a blood all over him, so I try and wake him up by slapping him, you know like they do for football players, and what does he do? He attacks me before he even wakes up! Don't ask me what happened, all I know is that one moment his eyelids fluttered and the next he is behind me ready to dislocate my shoulder. So I'm yelling at him trying to… Xander what are you doing down there?"
Xander was sitting on the floor watching Cordelia giving her narration of the morning that would raise several questions that he did not want to tell lies for. Xander was truly getting tired of lying to his friends; he had been doing it so much lately that he had almost forgot why he started doing it in the first place, but he continued to tell his lies and continued to feel like an ass about it.
"I was on my way out, when I was attacked by the door. I was about to stake it when you walked in," said Xander as he stood up with a small groan.
"Well, it's a good thing that we showed up in time to save the door from meeting its maker, " said Buffy with a small smile that soon faded as she searched the room.
"Has Angel shown up yet?"
"No, we believed he was still with you," said Giles as he walked over and took the box from the slayer.
"He was, but when I woke up this morning he was gone, and I was hoping that he came here early to help and didn't want to wake me,"
"Wait a minute, 'when you woke up'," said Xander causing Buffy to blush slightly.
For a brief moment jealousy and anger burned within Xander, but the pounding headache returned just as fast along with a pulsing in his chest. Xander clenched his fist, driving his fingernails into his palms letting the pain draw his attention, while he took in a few deep calming breaths; effectively calming the fire in his core that threatened to consume him like kindling.
"We ran into some more vampire goons last night and we ended up having to run back to Angel's place. We stayed there to protect the piece of the Judge," responded Buffy in a tone that implied that further questions would not only not be tolerated but would more than likely be met with bodily harm. Xander could not help but wish that he knew how to do that, but he was pretty sure that the ability was either genetic or gender based.
"Well, I'm sure that he's okay," said Willow in an attempt to comfort her friend. "I mean Angel isn't the type of guy who gets into trouble, except of course the time when…"
Willow's blossoming babble was preempted by an animalistic roar from the back of the library followed by a lone vampire springing from behind a bookcase. Buffy's hand quickly felt her pockets for a stake and cursed when she did not find one, while the rest of the gang scattered to stand behind tables and prepare for more vampires in what they thought was a full blown attack. Xander heard Buffy's curse from behind him as he hustled Cordelia and Willow toward tables and quickly reached into his backpack and grabbed a stake, which he threw in a high arc toward the slayer.
"Heads up!"
The stake completed its downward arc directly in front of Buffy, who snatched it up and brought it to bear against the charging vampire.
"Message for you," said the vampire. He threw a piece of rolled up paper at the slayer's face and continued his charge in the hopes of surprising her. However Buffy ducked the projectile and jabbed outward with her stake letting the vampire drive himself onto it.
The vampire fell to the ground with a groan that faded away as he disintegrated into dust, allowing the stake to fall to the wooden floor with a hollow clatter. Buffy bent down and picked up the scroll of paper that the vampire had left behind. With the vampire dispatched and no other signs of another attack the others moved to see what the message was.
"Another love note from Spike?" asked Xander as he bent down to retrieve his stake not noticing the tears pooling in Buffy's eyes.
"They have Angel, and they want to trade him for the rest of the Judge."
* * *
End of Chapter 10
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