SUMMARY: This is an alternate reality story inspired by the episode "The Wish". I had speculated about how the characters might have got where they were in that story, since the world was so radically different from the 'real' buffyverse. It starts approximately at the same time as the start of the show, "Welcome to the Hellmouth." It is the first part in a series I am writing chronicling this alternate reality.
This is not my first foray into fanfic, but my first into the Buffy series. I really appreciate feedback (hopefully good, but if you need to criticize please go easy on me!)
But For the Grace of God
Part 2
Xander's disappearance seemed to make hardly a ripple in the lives of most of the Sunnydale students. It was a topic of gossip for about three days, and thereafter the general consensus was that he had dropped out of school and skipped town. He never did very well in school, the students all knew that, but few knew him well enough to know that dropping out just wasn't his style. So the student body moved on quickly, letting that ripple smooth out and life continued at Sunnydale as it always did.
Except for Willow Rosenberg.
She had stayed up all night that Friday, waiting for Xander's call, clutching a stuffed puppy dog he had once given her for Hanukah. When he didn't call by morning, she had gone to his house, gripping the dog in a vise like hold and unaware she was still holding it. His mother had yelled at her repeatedly for waking her up, despite Willow's stammered apologies, and told her angrily that her no-good son had never come home the night before. She slammed the door in Willow's face, either oblivious to the tears on her face or not seeing them.
Willow had walked home in a daze. Xander couldn't be gone. It just couldn't be possible. But as the days passed, her heart sunk lower and lower. The worst moment was when Jesse's body turned up in an abandoned lot near the cemetery. Xander's body wasn't there, but the signs were definitely not good. Her parents tried to be understanding, but she couldn't talk to them about what had really happened. She had unknowingly deduced on her own the same conclusion as Xander had - the creature that had taken Jesse and, apparently, Xander, was a vampire. It was the only thing that made sense. Though, in all honesty, it didn't make any sense at all considering the fact that until a few days ago she would have laughed her head off if someone told her that they actually believed in vampires.
She stayed home from school the Monday after the disappearance, and Tuesday as well, before Willow decided that she would do the only thing she could think of that might be useful.
She would research it.
Wednesday afternoon, after her excruciatingly long Xander-less day, she strode purposefully into the library. Looking up 'vampires' in the card catalog, she found a wealth of volumes dedicated to the undead - all of them fiction. She browsed through them anyways, trying to glean what she could, but the 'rules' of vampirism changed at each authors whim and she didn't know what, if any of it, to believe. Sometimes all you had to do was be bitten to become a vampire, sometimes you had to drink the vampires blood. Some said that holy items would repel the undead, others insisted that the only reason that worked was because of a vampires psychological fear of such objects. Contradictions abounded. She sighed deeply and dropped her head to the table.
Mr. Giles walked out of his office, followed by a young man a few inches taller that her with spiky red hair. Willow steeled herself. Giles was pretty cool. Hopefully he wouldn't laugh at her for asking for volumes on vampire lore. Maybe she could pass it off as a paper she was writing.
The librarian and the boy were completing their conversation, which was apparently about the boy making up some test in the library tomorrow. She waited patiently, and after a moment Giles looked up at her and smiled. It was a sad smile, a smile full of pity. Already she had gotten to hate that smile from the people around her - they had given up on Xander so easily. He wasn't gone. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be. It just was…not…possible.
"Willow. How are you doing?" That was another thing she was growing to hate. How did people think she was doing? Her best friend had gone missing! She was doing lousy! She was feeling abysmally rotten!
"Fine." She said.
"Do you know Oz here?" Giles indicated the boy next to him.
"No. Nice to meet you." She nodded abstractly at him.
"Hi." Oz's voice was appreciative, but Willow didn't notice it.
"What can I do for you, Willow?" Giles asked.
Surprisingly, she didn't feel embarrassed. "I need to find some books on vampires."
The librarian frowned and looked at her intensely. "There are plenty of them in the fiction section - under horror."
"No, I don't want a fiction book. I want something on the history of vampires…the mythology. What beliefs are and are not true." Drat. She'd said too much. "Or what people believe is true and what is…not."
"Oz, I'll see you tomorrow." The boy seemed a bit startled to be dismissed so suddenly, but just nodded.
"Later, Giles." Very laid back. He left.
A moment passed with Giles simply looking at her. "What do you want that for?"
She was stumped for a moment. She hadn't expected a cross examination. Then she remembered her paper excuse. "Ah, for a paper?"
Unfortunately, she was an awful liar. She would have been better off just nodding, because now the librarian seemed to be in full suspicion mode. "Which class?"
"Uh…hist…creative writing."
"Really."
"Um…yeah."
Giles seemed to vacillate between something, repeatedly glancing down beneath his desk and back at her. Finally he seemed to come to a decision.
He reached down and pulled a large, old looking volume from beneath the desk, clutching it to his chest so that she could not see the cover. "Please come into my office for a moment, Willow."
Following him, she wondered if she had made a mistake by trying to enlist his help. She sat down in the chair across from him, expecting him to put the book down, but he continued to hold it. "Now, Willow." He took a deep breath. "Tell me the real reason you want these books."
Uh oh. "I told you. A paper."
"For History."
"Yes."
"Or creative writing."
She winced. "Oh, yeah."
Giles didn't say anything. He merely looked at her. The seconds ticked by.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Finally the pressure that had been building in Willow burst. She let out a harsh sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and shrugged. "Why not tell you? If I'm crazy, someone'll find out eventually, and if not, we'll probably all end up dead." Tears were flowing freely down her face now. "You know Jesse? The kid that died? He was my friend. And he was killed by a vampire. And Xander? I think the vampire has him too, or ki…ki…" she couldn't get the word out. Wordlessly Giles handed her a tissue and let her tears run their course. She gained control of herself a few moments later.
"You think I'm crazy, don't you." She said flatly.
"No. No, I don't."
She was so surprised that her hand froze with the tissue halfway to her face. "You…you don't?"
"No. I don't." He placed the book down in front of her. In large, archaic letters on the cover the word VAMPYR was spelled out. She was speechless. Giles stood and paced a moment, taking his glasses off and massaging his temples. "I knew this was going to happen. The portents said the Slayer should come here. God knows Cleveland isn't the place for her. We are sitting on a Hellmouth, for God's sake. Buffy should be here, not bloody Cleveland!"
Willow stared at him, mouth open. She didn't understand most of what he was saying, referring to slayers and portents and mouths of hell and just what kind of a name was Buffy anyways?
The librarian - though Willow was beginning to have doubts about what he really was - sat down again. "You're not crazy." He said, and sighed. "We have a lot to talk about."
OoooOoooO
The preternaturally sensitive ears of a vampire come in very useful at times. This was one of those times…though Angel didn't really understand the conversation to which he was listening. One thing he did understand, however, was that Buffy Summers was not coming to Sunnydale. That disturbed him. When he had confirmed that this was where she was going to be, and her Watcher came, it had seemed to be only a matter of time before the Slayer and he met face to face. But now…
Angel watched from the Library door, seeing Willow Rosenberg through the glass of Giles' office. Pure dumb luck had brought him here at this moment, when he was coming to see the Watcher since he had been unable to locate the Slayer. His information was important - the Harvest was coming, and soon - and if Buffy wasn't going to be here, maybe this girl could help.
He listened to her pour her heart out to Giles, noting with an almost silent hiss the mention of Darla's name. His heart lifted when he heard that Xander's body had not been found. Knowing Darla, if she hadn't disposed of his body yet, she was probably keeping him with her. She liked to toy with her prey on occasion, which extended their lives - but at a terrible cost.
Xander was probably still alive.
And Angel thought he knew where.
They had killed Jesse in front of him. The Master - as he was called by the other vampires - had drained him dry and dropped him in front of Xander's cell. There he had lay for God knows how long, dead eyes staring at him, before one of the vamps who Xander had dubbed the Monster Minions took him away.
Had to keep his sense of humor. Had to stay sane.
Which wasn't easy. He wasn't sure how he had been chained here - in the dark the seconds swelled and lengthened and the minutes never ended. The only measure of time he had was Darla's visits, which he assumed came daily. Each day she fed on him, never very much, but enough to keep him weak, helpless. He counted the number of bite marks on his body, and by this gruesome timepiece had guessed that he had been chained here seven or eight days.
It seemed longer.
He was hungry too. They did feed him, three times a day, and plenty of it, but his overtaxed body was protesting the constant repairs he was forcing on it. His guess was that Darla didn't want to kill him right away…she wanted to keep him strong as long as possible. Xander had considered going on a hunger strike, but quickly realized that all that would do would be to speed his own demise. His best chance was to do exactly what they wanted…and stay alive long enough to get a chance to escape.
So he waited. Most of his thoughts centered around Willow. Thank God he had made her go home. She was safe. He was sure that she was going out of her mind with worry - after all, this was Willow the Worry Wart. Besides, he knew how she felt about him - how her feelings had been changing. He knew that it would make it that much harder for her.
He had resisted it. She was so comfortable, his best friend, and the thought of romantic relations, though appealing in some ways, was frightening as well. If it didn't work out, he didn't think he could stand losing her friendship. So he had kept his feelings platonic. Safe. Now, in the cage, clinging to her image in order to keep his sanity, he could see how his fear had cheapened her feelings , had cheapened his own. I swear, if I ever get out of here, I'm going to grab Willow and give her a great big kiss. And see where it goes from there.
But it was looking less and less likely that he would ever see her again. He hoped, he prayed, but his spirit was starting to waver.
And then there was a ray of light.
It came in the form of a man, tall, with dark hair. Xander had been dozing when he came, drifting in and out of consciousness. He awoke to a voice, so soft it took him some time to realize it wasn't in his mind.
"Xander?"
The teenager looked through the bars, squinting to get a better look. The black clothes the stranger wore allowed him to blend into the shadows eerily. "Are you Xander Harris?" The stranger asked.
"Yes. " he scrambled to his feet - or tried to, he got halfway up before the choke collar around his neck became taut and he was jerked back down. He gagged, coughed and then repeated himself. "Yes. I'm Xander."
The stranger glanced down the corridor, then took off his leather jacket and looped it around the lock. "I'm Angel." He brought his fist down hard on the lock, the breaking of it muffled by the leather but the noise still echoed. The man who called himself Angel winced and opened the door. "I know you don't know me, but there's no time to explain. I'm a friend of Willow's. I'm going to get you out of here."
Xander's heart soared. Willow had come through! The surge of love that he felt for her at that moment was pure, shining and bright. "Angel. " He said softly. "How appropriate."
The man didn't answer, but knelt down next to him and examined the locks. "Solid." He said. "I don't think I can break these." His gaze rose and rested on the iron loops screwed into the wall where Xander's chains were attached. "You might have to wear them for a while." He looped a length of chain around his wrist, warning, "This might hurt." He yanked.
The loop popped out of the wall with a shower of dust and gravel, but surprisingly little noise. Xander stood upright for the first time in days, gritting his teeth as his sore muscles stretched, still weighted down by the chains. "Wow. You're pretty, um, strong."
"Yes. A shame he's so impulsive."
Both Xander and Angel froze at the amused voice coming from the hall. Darla stepped into the light, dressed in a short plaid skirt and simple white blouse. She wore her human face, but the delight on it was cold. "Angel. It's been so long."
"Hello, Darla." Angel stood. If possible, his face became even harder. "Not long enough."
"No sweet hellos?" Several other vampires, all members of the Monster Minions, followed Darla in revealing themselves. Xander's fragile hope shattered. They were woefully outnumbered, and even if they weren't he was too weak to help much. The female vampire, looking deceptively innocent, walked closer to Angel. "And I was so hoping that you had come back to join me."
Angel glanced down at Xander, and he thought that he saw guilt in the man's eyes. "Those days are gone, Darla."
"They wouldn't have to be. All you need to do is accept what you are. Be it." Xander backed up as Darla switched his attention to him. "He smells good, doesn't he, Angel? Young. Fresh. Alive." Her face morphed into the demonic visage he had already become horribly accustomed to. "Aren't you hungry for something warm, my love?"
Xander didn't think that things could get any worse, but they did. One glance at his rescuer revealed him to be staring down at him, the face that had looked so human moments ago bearing the same monstrous form as hers. "Oh, God, no." He whispered, falling to his knees. "Please, God, no."
His strengthless whispers appeared to pierce Angel. The vampire shook his head violently, and when he looked back at Xander, he appeared human once more. Guilt, and a beseeching apology rested on his face. "You don't know what love is, Darla." He said, still looking at Xander.
"Oh, you are so wrong, my dark Angel." She sidled up to him and ran her fingers along his shoulders. "You're the one who's forgotten. My love for you is all that keeps you alive now." She smiled, dimpling at the corners of her mouth. "And my knowing that deep down, you feel the same way."
"The only way I could ever love you, Darla, " Angel informed her darkly, "Would be as waft of dust on the wind."
She backhanded him across the face, hard enough for him to go stumbling back into the Monster Minions, who caught him and held him tight. She shook her head sadly. "Oh, my Angelus." She mourned. "So lost."
Again, her attention landed on Xander. Her voice was a mere whisper. "Do you know love, boy? Have you ever felt the hands of passion at your throat, the thrill of melding with one person into full ecstasy even as you feel as though you might die from the pain of it?"
She was close enough now that he could smell the copper on her breath. "Have you ever loved?"
Xander opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat - and thought of Willow. Her soft hair, her laugh, the secrets they shared, the times they fought - and answered without doubt. Maybe their feelings for each other would never grow beyond friendship, but he knew that he loved her anyways. "Yes. I know love. But what you described isn't love. Not real love."
"You see what I mean? Pure." She was talking to Angel, but still looking at Xander, her finger tracing the line of his jaw softly. "He'll learn. You know, I've come to the conclusion over the centuries that sometimes the best candidates for eternal life aren't those who are monsters in life - but angels." Darla picked up Xander's hand and kissed his fingertips. "The purer the heart, the more the change affects them." Holding Xander's hand, she finally turned to Angel. "Should we see how he turns out?"
Her fangs were in his neck before he could react. This was different than the other times, more painful and somehow sickeningly pleasurable, and the darkness rushed up to meet him. Dimly, he heard Angel's enraged scream but it somehow didn't seem important any more. Willow's face floated before his eyes. Sorry, Will. he thought, the thought not anguished or despairing, but rather languid, sorrowful and abstract. I broke my promise.
His murderer pulled away. He felt barely on the edge of consciousness, his vision swimming in and out, but he was able to realize that he was being cradled in the vampire's arms, his head lolling against her breast. "Xander, love." She whispered, stroking his hair. Her hand strayed from his dark brown strands and with one quick motion, slashed open the skin on her exposed breast. "Drink." She whispered, pressing his lips to her bleeding skin. "Join me."
"Darla, no…"
Angel's voice was unimportant. When the coppery taste began to fill Xander's mouth, his first impulse was to gag, but her hands stroking his throat encouraged him to swallow instead. The voice of his rescuer faded farther and farther away, and Xander began to pull greedily at the wound, his disgust changing to ecstasy and wonder at the sensations that were going through his body. This was the feeling Darla had been describing, he realized, this was love.
NOOOOOOO! A part of him cried out in agony as he felt a wrench throughout his body, his body thrashing but the true anguish being spiritual as he felt himself change, felt his soul depart.
Willow. He thought as consciousness fled.
It was the last thing he saw in his mind, her sweet face, before the life he had was extinguished.
Xander Harris was dead.
Angel watched in horror as the boy he had come to save fell to the floor from Darla's lap, eyes wide and staring, blood smearing his mouth and chin. Darla's chest heaved, her eyes heavy lidded with pleasure, and licked her lips. The vampires holding him also seemed enraptured with the sight, an involuntary growl emanating from one behind him. I'm so sorry, Xander. He closed his eyes. So sorry.
"Do you remember your first time, Angel?" Darla laughed, delighted with herself. She continued to stroke the dead boy's hair absently. "Of course you do. However could one forget? You rose quickly. Do you think he will sleep long? I've always found it curious, why one vampire will rise within minutes while others have to crawl out of their graves days later. Why do you think that is? "
"I don't know." His voice was frozen steel.
She stood, sighing. "Oh, Angel. Don't be so cold." She wrapped her arms around him and lay her head against his chest. "I miss you so much. I just want you to come home."
The hold the vampires had on his arms loosened as she continued her caresses. Angel saw an opportunity - maybe his only one - and took it. He melted into her, working his hand free and returning her embrace. "Darla. I've missed you too…"
Things happened too fast for the vampires behind him to react. The small wooden stake he had pulled from his rear pocket thrust through her clothing, cleaving skin and muscle to pierce her heart. She jerked back, betrayal and anger in her eyes. "Angel?" her eyes sought his.
She fell to dust.
The fight that ensued was quick not because there was a resolution, but because Angel simply used his supernatural speed and strength to push through his attackers and run like hell. He quickly left his pursuers and the dead body of Xander Harris behind him, but didn't slow down until he had reached the relative safety of the outdoors. Glancing at his watch, he was amazed to realize that not even an hour had passed since he had first ventured into the catacombs the Master resided in. It was only 10:00. Unbelievable. He sighed, walking home slowly and sadly. The decision to try and save the boy had been impulsive, as Darla had said, but he had to do it. Knowing that Xander was probably alive and existing in a living hell - he knew Darla well enough to know that it would indeed be hell - would have panged his conscience fiercely had he walked away from the situation simply because he didn't know the boy. He had to have tried something.
Things definitely hadn't gone the way he planned.
Damn it.
A face swam out of the darkness, greeting him as he awoke slowly, a face achingly familiar and yet the associations with it alien to him. Warmth, laughter, compassion, friendship…all terms he associated with this face, but whose meanings had changed, altered. And love. She loved him. He closed his eyes, feeling a hunger rise in him that was all consuming, and focused on that face in his mind. She loved him.
And he loved her.
Xander Harris rose from the floor slowly, taking in the room with his augmented senses, realizing that the walls that had seemed dark and dreary when he entered now had a velvet opulence to them, his eyes able to discern the slight changes in shade and texture that human eyes would never have be able to see.
She loved him.
He wanted to repay her for that priceless gift. His tongue ran along his teeth, hard, and the sweet, exquisite taste of blood filled his mouth. He spoke, his voice lower, and its timbre richer that it had been in life.
"Willow."
END OF PART TWO
Please review!
