Fury of the Beast

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda, Buffy is owned by Mutant Enemy, Angel belongs to...somebody, races belong to somebody else, and the only thing I own is the desk my computer is sitting on. Lucky me, huh?

Xander stood, watching Allandra as she trained. Angel was sitting there beside him, in his usual comfortable leather chair.
Allandra went through the obstacle course like a dynamo. Nothing could stand in her way, not the swimming across the lake, not the demons interfering in her path, not even the fifteen foot high brick wall at the end.

Xander let his mind wander. 'Wonder what old Nicky wanted with her, and why he ended up selling out to do it. He didn't seem like that bad of a guy back then. Alright, he was a schmuck, but he wasn't bad. Now he's all winged and horny.....and that did not sound right in my head....glad Angel isn't a mind reader. Ho boy, I'd be in it so deep if he ever found out what I was thinking about so along ago about the Buffster. Whew. Although she did find out once....lucky she didn't kill me right there. Yep. You're damned lucky there X-Man. Wait...you're damned and you're lucky. Lucky enough to be damned. Right up there with the chicken and the egg thing...'

The snap of fingers in his face brought his attention back to the here and now.

"You alive in there? Wakey wakey?" Angel's old, slightly wrinkled, smirking face inquired.

"Yeah, I'm here. Now. What's up, oh gray one?" Xander replied.

"We got a lead on Spike."

There are many layers, many different dimensions which could, very accurately, be called Hell.

No less than, and not entirely coincidentally, six-hundred and sixty-six. There's also as many places that could, just as accurately, be called Heaven. Ironically enough, however, there are far, far more normal, some pleasant, some not, worlds which are from our mundane, human point of view, could easily call home. However, for the sake of this document, we'll stick with the realms of darkness.

On the three hundredth dimension, did Nicholas' master, the being which made him into a devil on earth, reside. Once, ages ago, he was what could only be called a god, or an angel. His only true crime for which he had been banished to that particular realm of darkness and suffering at the time was being on the losing side of that ancient war.

Afterwards, however, he had committed crimes which, had they occurred before his banishment, would fully justify his current imprisonment.

His name was Ifrit. He was placed at the moment, third in the totem pole of this realm. Above him was the current King of Hell and the First General.

Ifrit didn't mind being third. He was patient, and content with his lot. Other devils knew it, the King knew it, and the General knew it. If he should just happen to become the King in the correct circumstances, so be it, but he would not seek the throne himself.

It's not a coincidence that Ifrit was also the oldest living devil on this plane.

Ifrit was, however, always curious. His curiosity had in the past saved him from a great deal of trouble and pain. If knowledge was power, then truly, Ifrit was the real King of Hell. Let the current King deal with the usurpers and renegades.

What he desired now was freedom from the wretched place, this horrid plane. Hell, any Hell, is a place of banishment for a reason. Rank is almost determined by how much suffering you go through every day. Even the King isn't immune or exempt, he simply had the least amount of pain.

Every moment of every day brought Nicholas closer to Ifrit. Ifrit slowly corrupted Nicholas. Nicholas understood this when he made his deal with Ifrit, on the brink of death six decades in the past. Conveniently, he forgot about the conditions after making the deal.

Ifrit was no fool, after all. No matter. One more month and Ifrit would be free while Nicholas would wear his chains in this pit. A fitting trade. Nicholas would have the chance to rule a Hell while Ifrit had the chance to roam free and live, perhaps even forge a legacy of his own.

Ifrit could feel Nicholas drawing on a little more power than normal now. Strange. Had he been injured? Unlikely, yet...it seemed so. What a strange circumstance. Oh well.

Ifrit allowed Nicholas to take the power he needed. After all, he'd get it back soon.

Sunnydale, California.

It hadn't changed much in the last sixty years. Granted, the cars were different, the people were wearing trendy new clothing, which would have been considered an eyesore at the turn of the century. Funny how fashion worked. Functional rarely went into it.

Xander walked into Willy's bar and looked around. The demon patrons looked at him, then ignored him, considering him yet another vampire.

Strangely enough, Willy himself was still working behind the counter. Not even a day older.

Xander sat in an empty stool and nodded to Willy. Willy, oblivious to the Kindred's nature, walked over, not yet recognizing Xander.

"Haven't seen you around before, what'll it be?" The scumbag asked.

"Blood. And some information." Xander replied, a hint of steel in his eyes.

Willy quickly got a not-too-clean glass, poured some blood into it and handed it to Xander, who sniffed it, and then took a slow sip. Xander didn't mind it was pig's blood, any blood would do.

It didn't taste as good as human blood, but, it was good enough.

"Thanks. I'm looking for an old friend of mine. Used to hang with him. Went by Spike a few decades ago. Seen him?" He asked.

"Nope, can't say I have." Willy said, his left eye twitching.

Xander smirked slightly, casually observing the other patrons. Nobody here was a real threat against him. Two vampires, two humans, and one weak demon skulking in the shadows.

Reaching out with his supernatural speed, he grabbed Willy by the neck and slammed his face into the bar. Willy let out a startled squeal as his face shifted to take his true, vampire face.

"Alright, I tried being polite, you filthy leech. Now I've got a deal for you. Tell me where Spike is or I'll use some of the liquor in here to make you an undead torch. Do we understand each other?" Xander spoke, his voice low.

The other patrons in the bar just stood, shocked. One vampire nodded approvingly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, buddy!" Willy squealed around his fangs.

Xander sighed. "Willy, Willy, Willy. Human or vampire, you've always been a scumbag, but always one who knows what's going on in good old Sunny D." Xander causally picked up a bottle of whiskey and opened it with his left hand, using his right to keep Willy pinned to the bar.

Then he dumped it on Willy's face.

Then Xander reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. Igniting it, he moved it closer and closer to Willy's alcohol drenched face.

Willy's eyes widened almost comically. "All right, I'll tell you, geez! Calm down!" Xander smirked.

Five graves stood in a row. It wasn't really unusual, considering the place. It was the people within that made it unusual. Each of the five were protectors, people who made a difference in the world. They wouldn't be remembered, or honored, except in a few circles.

Anya Jenkins.

Rupert Giles.

Buffy Summers.

Willow Rosenburg.

Alexander Harris.

If only people knew the last grave was empty. It was kind of amusing to Xander, in a sick, sardonic way.

"Hey guys. Long time no see, huh? Hey hey hey, before you all get angry with me, it wasn't my fault or my idea to take such a long trip." Xander sighed. "Yeah, I know, no excuse, I should have woken up sooner and should have been there to help you guys. Just my luck, huh? I finally get something to be able to keep up with the rest of you, and then I get sealed up inside a wall until you're all off chasing moonbeams." He paused, as if listening, and then nodded. "You're right Will, I am a jerk. I got drunk and now I'm paying for it out the nose." He sighed again.

"Giles, sorry I wasn't around to pick things up and help out, wish you could be here. Anya, I hope you managed to grow and live as a person. I bet it was touch and go for a while there, huh? Ah well, I hope you managed to find some happiness." He turned to the center grave.

"Hey Buff. Wish I could see you one more time. Hell, I wish I could have been there for you the whole way, unfortunately there's nothing I can do about it now. For what it's worth, Buffy, I'm sorry. I hope you're somewhere pleasant and that you're enjoying your stay. I guess, most of all, I'd hoped you'd look at me in the more-than-friend kind of way, back then, it'd have made me the happiest person on earth. I..feel honored, to have known you, even as a friend only. I'd have done anything to make you happy. Even step aside. I hope you knew that." Xander turned and walked away, unaware that the middle grave, the one marked as Buffy Summers, was empty.

"Hey Allandra, it's Xander. How's it going?" He asked, over the phone.

"Fairly well, Xander. I'm going to join you in Sunnydale in a day or so. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Not really, ya know. I was just checking up on you. I'd hate to see a few more baddies jump out of the woodwork to try and get to you."

"You're very sweet, Xander. No, everything's fine. I'm just finishing honing my skills here."

"Yeah, great. Do me a favor though. When you come on down, bring the trunk in my room, I left something in it that I'd like to tinker with."

"Certainly, I'll take care of it. What are you doing now, Xander?"

"Preparing for the meeting of my unlife. Something tells me I'm either going to be dead after it or just in a lot of pain."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to contact the current Slayer."

"Oh."

Xander walked through the graveyard, humming lightly to himself.

'Let Angel do the brooding part, if I'm gonna walk around as a vampire, I might as well be cheery about it. You only live twice!'

She was behind him. Going cautiously, trying to get into an appropriate attack position before launching at his unprotected and seemingly unaware back. Wind currents were a wonderful thing, sometimes. She was really liberal with that perfume though.

When he reached a spot in the open, he slowed down, looking around nonchalantly, as if just taking in the scenery. What he was really doing was listening.

By gods, she was quiet. She snuck up on him only slightly less quietly than a cat. This girl was good. Very good. If he hadn't known Buffy, she'd pounce on him totally unaware.

Xander sighed. "You can come on out. Don't bother trying to stake me, just hear me out and listen to what I got to say, alright?" He turned slowly, making no sudden movements.

She emerged from the shadows, moving with a certain, impressive, lithe grace. She was short, five-foot-eight, her naturally dark, nearly ebony skin accentuating her black locks of hair. She stood at the ready, tensing slightly at every movement he made.

No doubt about it, she'd kick his ass.

"All right, vampire. I'm listening. Don't make any sudden moves and I'll let you keep your hide intact for a little while." She spoke.

Xander nodded. "Fair enough, I'd be acting the same in your position. Well, actually, I'd never be in your position, I'd be too busy running away or wheedling for my life, but..."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I tend to ramble sometimes. My name's Xander."

"I don't care what your name is, you'll be dead soon." She sneered as she spoke.

Xander sighed "You didn't happen to be trained by the Watcher's Council, did you?"

"What of it?"

'Great, they screwed over yet another girl's life and didn't bother putting awareness or life into her education. Well, at least it means I've got a shot at surviving if she decides she doesn't like me anymore.' Xander thought.

Out loud he replied. "Sorry, I've just had some problems with them in the past." He raised a hand as she opened her mouth. "No, they didn't try to kill me, they tried to kill a friend of mine. Another Slayer." He sighed again.

"But I guess it doesn't matter now. You know about Spike?"

She nodded. "One of the worst vampires ever made. He's old, he's killed four Slayers, he's smart and he's crafty. I'm looking forward to teaching him a thing or two."

Xander rolled his eyes. "Forget it, that's not going to work. He knows your tactics and moves, he knows how most Slayers think, and he knows what he's got to do to get around you. What the hell has the Council trained you with anyway? Or do they just point in the direction of the badguy and say 'Slay it, if you survive, we'll have tea.'?"

She couldn't help but crack a smirk at that.

"Look, I get that you're not going to trust me, Mister Mysterious niceguy vampire. But I will say this, I've got a grudge with Spike, I owe him a lot and I intend to repay him. But, I can't do it on my own, I'm not powerful enough or strong enough to beat him. Not yet and probably not for a while. Like another century. I've never been accused of being patient, so..." He sucked in a breath. "I'm asking for your help.

Shock registered on her face, then suspicion then paranoia.

"Listen, if you want the whole story, get a copy of Rupert Giles' Watcher Diary. Look up Xander Harris, that's little old me. And I suggest you don't let your Watcher know you're looking it up. Take their teachings, but no matter what they say or however they act, they don't have all the answers and in my day, they were just a bunch of control freaks." Xander spoke.

Her eyes hardened with anger. Xander raised his arms in a gesture to hold her off in case he crossed the line.

"They're good trainers, I'll admit, and some of them I know are good people. Just ask yourself though, are they treating you like a human being, or a tool? When you can answer that, we'll talk more." He turned and then began to run at full speed. With a startled shout, she began to run after him.

One of the advantages of being a Kindred was the ability to learn the Discipline of Celerity.

While Slayers can run and run fast, up to fifty miles per hour in the particularly athletic ones, like any mortal creature they do end up tiring. The Kindred don't tire from simply running, even with Celerity. They need to feed afterwards, typically, of course, but they can still run at high speed for far, far longer than any mortal creature.

And so it was while the Slayer was able to keep up with Xander, she couldn't close the distance. Xander heard a bus in the distance and quickly changed direction, running towards it.

She stayed no less than fifteen feet behind him the whole time. She was in very, very decent shape. She wouldn't let him go that easily.

Along with the Discipline of Celerity, the Brujah were also quite proficient with the Discipline of Potence. This magnified the vampire's strength by a fairly large factor. It also assisted greatly in jumping ability.

So Xander jumped up, towards the bus, moving at forty-five miles an hour, and clutched the roof from the back. He dug his fingernails in, leaving small marks in the metal, and climbed up. He then turned around and waved at the Slayer, who was falling behind the rapidly accelerating bus.

Once she was out of sight, Xander steeled himself and leapt off the bus, landing on a sidewalk. Then he made a beeline for the apartment he was using for his haven.

And surprisingly enough, this time the haven was comfortable and not in danger of being infested!

And then, of course, his muscles protested in having been used in such a manner. He rubbed his arms and his legs. Kindred didn't feel pain in the same way humans felt pain, it was dulled, muted to a degree, but there is still pain.

He rubbed the offended muscles lightly, and then went home.

Vanessa Stevens, the current Vampire Slayer, was angry. Very angry.

That vampire managed to get away from her, and all she could do was glare in the direction of the bus he latched onto while gasping for breath.

One thing was for sure, he was fast. He was the first vampire to get away from her. Granted, she'd been a Slayer for only about six months, but he was strong.

He was nervous about fighting her though. That made her feel better. He knew she could beat him down, probably easily. Something was off about him, though.

All Slayers had particular, but unique talents, often suiting the Slayer in question. Premonition, or magical talent. Reading any language, blending into the environment, extremely strong senses, even more so than most Slayers, the list went on and on.

In Vanessa's case, she could sense things supernatural at a distance. She could feel them without needing to see them, as if they provided a sort of homing signal for her to track. As well, they felt different, depending on the level of strength and race the creature was in.

Vampires felt like a small patch of cold and darkness from a distance. This Xander, however, didn't. He felt like a vibrating beacon of hope, contrasting very sharply with his cold feeling.

She wondered if it was possible for a vampire to fool her senses. She chuckled lightly, almost hearing the voice of her Watcher, Sandra Raine, in her ear.

'Anything is possible between magic, technology and the supernatural beasts you have to destroy. Never believe one of the minions of darkness, never trust them. They will only turn on you eventually, it's their nature.' And true to form, Sandra had rattled off many, many instances where Slayers were killed because they forgot that rule. Including the worst Slayer in history, Buffy Summers.

Xander claimed to be a friend of Buffy. Slayers didn't have friends. Still, it'd be worth looking into it.

She didn't believe Xander for a second, but if she played along, they might be able to kill Spike, and then she'd remove the threat Xander would be.

If he did know Slayers in the past, he'd know how they were trained too, and if he wasn't killed he'd probably be the next William the Bloody. All vampires were the same underneath. Their faces and mannerisms were different, for sure. But that didn't matter, their mannerisms didn't matter, they were all demons.

No matter how nice they seemed.

She logged onto the Watcher database. It took a long time, but the Council had finally begun to catch up to the twenty-first century when it came to storing information. She ran a search for Rupert Giles' diary.

The diary opened up on the screen. As she read through it, she leaned back and rested her head on her left hand. The entries seemed very, very familiar. Like she'd read them before. That couldn't be. She'd never read Rupert's entries before.

She frowned.

The entries were pretty basic. The day-to-day bits of training Buffy, small notes on her rebellious nature. How after a three-year run, she let her lessons as a Slayer fall to the wayside and was killed by a vampire on her eighteenth birthday.

That didn't sound right. For some odd reason, it didn't sound right.
She blinked and opened up another diary, one from fifty years ago. The diary of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. He'd eventually trained the Slayer, Amanda Ryan. She'd read it before, and she was just double-checking.

There. An entire passage was exactly the same, just the names changed. She swore.

As she opened diary after diary, she found more and more identical passages, doctored with name changes, altered to the point where if somebody wasn't actively looking for the changes, they'd never find them.

All that was left was questions. Who was Buffy, what was so bad about her that they erased as many accounts as they could from history?

And where did Xander fit into it?

She sighed, glaring at the Rupert Giles entry, as if she got angry enough with it it'd crumble and reveal the truth. Instead it just sat there, glowing happily, as if mocking the curious Slayer.

She'd listened to Sandra before. How Buffy Summers had done little of note, died early on, and how because of her weakness the more powerful Kendra had been called to be a Slayer.

If that were the case, though....why had Rupert's diary been altered? There's no reason to alter a Watcher diary, it's not only immoral it doesn't make sense, every Watcher's contribution assists the current Slayer to a degree, some more some less, but erasing a diary would, or could, at least, erase valuable knowledge.

Unless Buffy was a lot more than it was saying. So much more that she was dangerous to the Council itself? That would make sense..but why then doctor the journal? If she went rogue and started killing Council members, they'd keep records of how she was defeated at least.

Suddenly, Vanessa felt much, much less confident in the Council.

"Vanessa, what are you doing?" Sandra's voice echoed from the study of the flat they shared.

"Nothing much, I'm just.." She started.

Sandra emerged from the study, a little concern in her eyes. Sandra stood at just over six feet, a pale redhead. She was plain, just on the side of attractive, but not stunningly so. Curiosity and concern in equal parts danced in her eyes.

"..Looking up the records for Spike. He's been giving us problems, if we can just anticipate what he's going for next we could catch him exposed."

Sandra nodded. "Good idea, although I doubt you'll find anything. I've poured over the diaries and records since he showed up here and I haven't found much of use."

Vanessa nodded. "Yes, but I might be able to see a pattern in his tactics. It's better than just wondering what he'll do next."

Sandra made a murmur of agreement and went back into her study.

Turning back to the computer, Vanessa ran a search for Xander. She had only his first name, it wasn't much, but maybe...

Came back empty. Figures.

Allandra met with Xander in his new apartment. She looked around, curious as to how the vampire had settled in.

"I like this place. It's got a lot of room, the kitchen is nice..." She said while opening the fridge.

She stopped speaking the moment she saw the bloodbags.

"What? Oh, right. Well, you didn't expect me to go around feeding on people, huh?" Xander said with a smirk.

"Well, no. I just wasn't expecting this. Have you thought about using wine bottles? They'd be " She replied.

"Yeah, but remember, I'd have to dump wine first. Or I could mix it with the blood, but the last time I did any mixing I lost a few decades, so I'm not going to do that anytime soon. Anyhow, where's that case?" He jumped up and down like a little puppy.

Allandra laughed. "In the hall, Xander." He went out and dragged the case in, then opened it up, revealing the now very old arsenal, and the broken stakegun. He started disassembling it on the living room floor, a little smile on his face.

"Xander?" Allandra asked.

He continued his work, humming to himself.

"Xander?" She asked again, a little louder this time.

He actually began whistling now.

"Xander!?" She said, just short of yelling.

He looked up. "What, what? Oh, sorry. I just like tinkering with things." He said with a sheepish grin.

She rolled her eyes. "What are you doing with this?"

He smiled a little bit.

"I'm going to make this little sucker into a nice, little treat for Spike. I think he'll enjoy it."

And now onto part 14, which is the most current part right now.