The last thing Andrew remembered was being overrun by an endless torrent of women and girls. It brought images to mind of a tidal wave, a vast and limitless sea of bodies bearing weapons. Faith had tried to teach him some of the basics of self-defense, but the lessons never really took. He was one of the brains, he told himself. Spike and Faith and Buffy-wherever the hell she was-were the brawn.
Unfortunately, no one bothered to explain that to the army of Slayers.
Andrew didn't know how long he had managed to even remain consciousness. He liked to think he had been heroic and taken a few of his attackers down with him, but he knew better. If this had been a story, he was sure he would have been overcome by a powerful rage just in the nick of time, and cut through the girls like a scythe. But Andrew was no storybook hero. He couldn't remember the fight, but truth be told, he probably went down under the first girl to attack him.
He hurt. God, how he hurt. Andrew was not accustomed to physical pain. It felt as though someone had shredded him from the inside out. He slowly opened his eyes to find himself abandoned in the wreck that had been Xander's room.
'Xander! Oh god!'
Andrew pushed himself painfully to his feet, certain that he was tearing joints, tendons?, and muscle loose? as he did so. There was nothing left in the room but himself, the ruined furniture and shards of glass from the broken window the Slayers had poured through god knew how long ago. The bedroom door was barely hanging by one battered hinge. Andrew focused all of his energy into moving-step by harrowing step-through that door and out into the hallway and the living room beyond.
The living room was littered with corpses. The stench of blood and bile and he didn't want to know what else clogged Andrew's nostrils. His eyes refused to make sense of some of the gore, and for that he was grateful, because what he did see clearly would be enough to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. This was wrong. Slayers were supposed to be a force for good-not for the Dark Side. The bodies that he was stepping around should have been their allies, not their enemies. It seemed as though the whole universe was out of balance.
'We used to call them Potentials,' Andrew thought sadly as his eyes scanned the room. 'I guess we never really fully thought about what kind of potential they all had. And now, I guess, they don't have any potential for anything at all... Did I just hear something?'
Yes, there was definitely something...a muffled whimper or a stifled groan. 'Xander. Please let it be Xander.' Andrew supposed he should be equally relieved to find out that the muffling was coming from Dawn, Spike, or Faith, but they were not currently foremost on his mind.
For some reason it didn't occur to Andrew that it could have been one of the very people sent to attack them. Maybe it was just that the very idea was too frightening to consider. Could he kill someone, even knowing they had come to kill or capture them? Andrew didn't want to think about that once. He had killed once, and Jonathan's blood would stain his soul through this life and into the great beyond. He wasn't sure if he could kill again, no matter how justified.
Xander was lying on the floor on his side, his back to Andrew. The younger man increased his pace, praying that the moaning had come from that dark head. "Xander! Xander, I'm coming." Andrew willed his voice to remain strong, to not betray the emptiness that was threatening to consume him. At best, Xander would be as deadened inside as he had been before the attack. At worst, Andrew could find himself facing Xander's last gasping breaths on this earth before finally fleeing the mortal coil that had treated the elder man so cruelly.
'No. Don't think that. He isn't dying. He'll be fine. I can take the rest of it, but Xander will be fine. He has to be.'
"Andrew?"
Xander's voice was weak, but it was music to Andrew's ears. Amazing how the mere yards separating them took forever for the blonde to cross. "Xander, I'm coming."
"Andrew," the voice was husky. It sounded like Xander had the worst cold in the history of time. "Where are you....where???"
Andrew reached the older man's side. "Oh, thank god! Thank god you're..."
Andrew's words died on his tongue. His hands flew to his mouth and tears flooded his eyes.
"Andrew?"
The deadness in Xander's voice burned itself into Andrew's memory. All Andrew wanted to do was cry-just lie on the ground with the other man and sob and hope the world came to an end. It was just too much. Even after everything else, this was enough to make Andrew want to finally give in.
The eye-patch that had covered Xander's socket had been torn off. The brunette's face was covered in bruises and blood, but the only thing Andrew saw was the blood and gooey wreckage where Xander's remaining eye had been.
"Andrew?" Xander's voice cracked. "Andrew? Where are you? It's so dark."
The fear and pain in Xander's voice pulled Andrew away from thoughts of himself and his own exhaustion. Tears slid down his face as he took hold of Xander's trembling hand firmly in his own. "I'm here," he whispered. The effort it took to keep his voice from breaking was monumental. "I'm right here."
'And I won't ever leave you alone...again.'
:Author's Notes:
Sorry again for the delay. I blame my job again.
Bsktballchik: Thanks again! Sorry it took so long. I know you must be waiting for Faith (I figure since she's a focus in your story that she's a favorite of yours), and I promise she'll be in the next chapter.
Cliia: So sorry, Ma'am! Maybe next time it won't take as long...yeah right!
Unfortunately, no one bothered to explain that to the army of Slayers.
Andrew didn't know how long he had managed to even remain consciousness. He liked to think he had been heroic and taken a few of his attackers down with him, but he knew better. If this had been a story, he was sure he would have been overcome by a powerful rage just in the nick of time, and cut through the girls like a scythe. But Andrew was no storybook hero. He couldn't remember the fight, but truth be told, he probably went down under the first girl to attack him.
He hurt. God, how he hurt. Andrew was not accustomed to physical pain. It felt as though someone had shredded him from the inside out. He slowly opened his eyes to find himself abandoned in the wreck that had been Xander's room.
'Xander! Oh god!'
Andrew pushed himself painfully to his feet, certain that he was tearing joints, tendons?, and muscle loose? as he did so. There was nothing left in the room but himself, the ruined furniture and shards of glass from the broken window the Slayers had poured through god knew how long ago. The bedroom door was barely hanging by one battered hinge. Andrew focused all of his energy into moving-step by harrowing step-through that door and out into the hallway and the living room beyond.
The living room was littered with corpses. The stench of blood and bile and he didn't want to know what else clogged Andrew's nostrils. His eyes refused to make sense of some of the gore, and for that he was grateful, because what he did see clearly would be enough to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. This was wrong. Slayers were supposed to be a force for good-not for the Dark Side. The bodies that he was stepping around should have been their allies, not their enemies. It seemed as though the whole universe was out of balance.
'We used to call them Potentials,' Andrew thought sadly as his eyes scanned the room. 'I guess we never really fully thought about what kind of potential they all had. And now, I guess, they don't have any potential for anything at all... Did I just hear something?'
Yes, there was definitely something...a muffled whimper or a stifled groan. 'Xander. Please let it be Xander.' Andrew supposed he should be equally relieved to find out that the muffling was coming from Dawn, Spike, or Faith, but they were not currently foremost on his mind.
For some reason it didn't occur to Andrew that it could have been one of the very people sent to attack them. Maybe it was just that the very idea was too frightening to consider. Could he kill someone, even knowing they had come to kill or capture them? Andrew didn't want to think about that once. He had killed once, and Jonathan's blood would stain his soul through this life and into the great beyond. He wasn't sure if he could kill again, no matter how justified.
Xander was lying on the floor on his side, his back to Andrew. The younger man increased his pace, praying that the moaning had come from that dark head. "Xander! Xander, I'm coming." Andrew willed his voice to remain strong, to not betray the emptiness that was threatening to consume him. At best, Xander would be as deadened inside as he had been before the attack. At worst, Andrew could find himself facing Xander's last gasping breaths on this earth before finally fleeing the mortal coil that had treated the elder man so cruelly.
'No. Don't think that. He isn't dying. He'll be fine. I can take the rest of it, but Xander will be fine. He has to be.'
"Andrew?"
Xander's voice was weak, but it was music to Andrew's ears. Amazing how the mere yards separating them took forever for the blonde to cross. "Xander, I'm coming."
"Andrew," the voice was husky. It sounded like Xander had the worst cold in the history of time. "Where are you....where???"
Andrew reached the older man's side. "Oh, thank god! Thank god you're..."
Andrew's words died on his tongue. His hands flew to his mouth and tears flooded his eyes.
"Andrew?"
The deadness in Xander's voice burned itself into Andrew's memory. All Andrew wanted to do was cry-just lie on the ground with the other man and sob and hope the world came to an end. It was just too much. Even after everything else, this was enough to make Andrew want to finally give in.
The eye-patch that had covered Xander's socket had been torn off. The brunette's face was covered in bruises and blood, but the only thing Andrew saw was the blood and gooey wreckage where Xander's remaining eye had been.
"Andrew?" Xander's voice cracked. "Andrew? Where are you? It's so dark."
The fear and pain in Xander's voice pulled Andrew away from thoughts of himself and his own exhaustion. Tears slid down his face as he took hold of Xander's trembling hand firmly in his own. "I'm here," he whispered. The effort it took to keep his voice from breaking was monumental. "I'm right here."
'And I won't ever leave you alone...again.'
:Author's Notes:
Sorry again for the delay. I blame my job again.
Bsktballchik: Thanks again! Sorry it took so long. I know you must be waiting for Faith (I figure since she's a focus in your story that she's a favorite of yours), and I promise she'll be in the next chapter.
Cliia: So sorry, Ma'am! Maybe next time it won't take as long...yeah right!