Back at the crypt, loathing the very site of the dusty stone walls, I paced my self-imposed prison. A few hours earlier, all I could think about was getting as far away from Rupert as possible. Now I would have given all I possessed to be back on that worn couch.
I just wanted to talk with him, to tell him everything—all my assumptions and plans—and to discuss with him my future - our future. A simple luxury, one that was more precious than gold.
However, I knew now what I must do. And a long heart-to-unbeating heart with Rupert Giles was not on the agenda.
First I needed the book. Clansen's Demonic Rituals Explained, the little book that had started this all. It held the last piece of information I needed to thwart Laalym's final hope.
Secondly, I needed to do some research. There was a spell I remembered Katie talking about, one that would make my plan possible.
However, since both of these things required me to leave the crypt, I had to postpone my endeavors till the Sun was kind enough to shine elsewhere. My secret plan held no provisions for vampire en flambee.
So, to pass the time, I wrote in my journal. Everything that had passed from last night to this morning was relived in excruciating detail.
My pen paused when I reached the conversation with Rupert. I could recall every word, every gesture. And it burned me just as badly the second time.
The only sound for hours was the scratch of pen on paper.
---
I must get the book. I must find the spell. I must erase the damage I fear I have done. Most of all, I must not let them fight my fight. Laalym is mine.
I closed the journal with a sigh. My eyes seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and my body ached from weariness. Sleep called.
But, of course, my life could not be as I wished it. Just as I had stretched out on a convenient stone tomb, there was a fumbling knock at the door to the crypt.
I froze. Who in the blue blazes could that be? I prayed to all things high and exalted that a wandering vagrant hadn't decided to sleep off his inebriation in this crypt. Drunken visitors were more than I could take at the moment.
The door groaned open. A dark mop-top poked round the frame.
Xander Harris. What the bloody hell was this all about?
"Hello?" He called, as if shouting into a dark cave. "Anybody home?"
"Xander." I rose and moved towards him, wary of the crack of sunlight on the floor.
"Oh. You're here," he said.
"Brilliant deduction. Tell me, do you do much in the line of investigative work? Cause you really have the knack for it." Apparently, tiredness makes me a wee bit cranky as well.
Xander rolled his eyes. "Do you vamps have to take a course in lame quips? Or is it just this town?"
"What do you want, Xander?"
"Well, wandering around in a cemetery and conversing with dead things in a crypt wasn't high on my list, but such is life." He paused, eyes roving around my humble abode. "Geez, talk about minimalist. At least Spike has a TV."
"All the most fashionable crypts these days are focusing less on comfort and more on that dank, decomposing style," I said.
He squelched a smile and handed me a small brown bag. Emblazoned across the front were the words "THE MAGIC BOX." It was quite heavy.
"Oh, Xander, you shouldn't have! And I didn't get you a thing." Opening the sack, I pulled out a thick tome.
Clansen's Demonic Rituals Explained.
"Giles sent me over with it. He..." Xander paused again. "I think he was worried about you."
Fresh guilt exploded in my gut and trickled down my spine. "Yeah. I kind of took off last night."
Xander looked at me, surprised. I tried to explain.
"I wanted to patrol some more, and he was asleep. I was going to leave him a note, but..." I trailed off.
"Whatever," he said. "Look, I'd better get going. What should I tell Giles?"
Tell him I love him. Tell him that we can be together. Tell him that I'm sure there's another way, we'll think of something. Tell him...
"Tell him thanks." I said. Oh, the bitterness of words unsaid.
Xander gave me another funny look. Was there something in my teeth?
"What?" I said.
"Nothing." He turned away, and I headed back to my bed. "It's just that..." He had stopped halfway to the door, and was facing the wall as he spoke. Man, this kid just did not like me.
"What did you do to him?" Xander asked.
"I'm sorry?"
"He looks at you ... differently. And he worries about you. Like when Spike burst into The Magic Box last night with your body, I thought he was going to...I don't know...pass out or something. Why does he care?"
An eternal beat. I was desperately searching for something to say, some way to brush this all off. Xander turned around, moved closer to me - searching my face for something.
"So, what I want to know is...what did you do to him? Is it some sort of spell? Is it a vampire thing? Cause whatever it is," he took a deep breath, moved closer to me, "whatever it is, we'll fight it. I'll fight you."
I couldn't help it. I know I should have taken him seriously, this poor little boy who was looking at me so earnestly, his fingers unconsciously clenching into a fist, ready to fight for his friends. But, it was just so far off the mark, I couldn't restrain myself.
I laughed. Just threw my head back and roared and giggled and guffawed till tears ran down my face.
Xander was taken aback, to say the least. He looked uncertain, not sure if he should attack or run.
When I was finally able to speak again, I smiled gently at the poor confused thing and gestured towards the tomb. "Take a seat, Xander. Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you."
He shuffled his feet a bit, threw his head back defiantly. "I'd rather stand, thanks."
Have to admire his pluck.
"That's fine. Mind if I sit down?" He shook his head, so I perched on the edge of the stone tomb. How much should I tell this little warrior? "Xander, I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me. I respect that - heck, I understand that. But I assure you, under pain of staking, I didn't do anything to Rupert."
Xander was looking at me dubiously. And I hadn't even gotten to the delicate part yet.
"If he seems concerned about me...well...he just knows that if something happens to me, then Laalym will more than likely come after Buffy. It's in all of your best interests to keep me alive, for now."
He stood there, looking at me. And, heaven love him, I almost blurted out the whole sordid tale of woe right then and there. Something in him inspired confidence and late night gab sessions. Restraint being the better part of valor, however, I managed to keep my story to myself.
"Alright. That makes sense, I suppose." He fixed me with an unwavering stare. "But, if I find out you've done anything to him, I'll stake you myself." With that threat, he turned and left the crypt.
This little slip of a boy had done what few centuries-old demons would dare. He had faced down a vampire Slayer who could have broken him in two, just to protect his friend.
If there were still people like him in the world, then maybe there was a point to saving the sodding thing after all.
---
Disclaimer: Xander, Spike, Giles, and the Buffyverse belong to Joss Whedon, etc. My fat poka-dotted plot bunny, Hubert, claims that Theresa belongs to him. I just work here.
A/N: I hope that Xander turned out well in this chapter. If not, the fault is entirely mine. Thanks to J. for the beta. Enjoy! Many huggles and cookies to those who read. Hot coca to the reviewers. Hubert does love those reviews.
