Disclaimer: You know what just looking at the first chapter.
AN: Okay second chapter is now up. I have problems with finding my own grammer mistakes and word spellcheck doesn't always find everything so until i find someone to pre-read my works for me before I publish them the only thing I can ask is for some patience. Oh and plz review!
Giles made an appearance sometime early the next morning. When I had told him that I had stood watch outside Buffy's door all night he looked at my as if he was confused as to why I would do such a thing. I explained to him about fearing for Buff's safety since vamps don't need an invite to come and go in hospitals.
He thanked me in an off-handed sort of way and asked if I had any trouble during the night. The question was asked with very little interest. Assuming no doubt that I had no problems since I was unharmed. I didn't really mind considering the fact that I could hardly believe that I was able to stand up to Angelus and not be laying in a hospital bed next to Buffy, or worse being laid out on a cold metal table in the morgue.
I told him it was just a long and grueling night trying to with stand the torturous chairs that the hospitals make you sit in. In response Giles just nodded and took off his glasses to begin cleaning them. Poor guy still isn't himself after Ms. Calendar's death. He looks rather un-British like this morning.
Bone weary I guess would be more accurate. A dark patch clearly visible under his eyes, while the rest of his face is pale and slightly gaunt. He looks older too not that he wasn't already old, but now its like he has aged 10 years. I wish I could wish all this away make it so Ms. Calendar hadn't died, or better yet if Deadboy never showed up in the 'Dale. Too bad wishes don't come true, least not the good ones anyway.
During the long hours of the night, waiting for the sun to peak out from the horizon and once again provide a temporary haven from the darkness, I had further developed my plan to eliminate Angelus. Now though looking at Giles I don't think I can confide in him after all. Could be the stray that broke the horses back.
I study him again while making idle chit-chat about nothing of importance just the usual Xander babble, and I decide that even though It will be a huge set back I can not go to the G-man to help. It's just to soon after what's happened to him to ask him to be apart of this. I'll have to go at it alone.
"Is their something wrong Xander?" Giles asked, "You seemed to have went off into your own little world."
"What? Oh, nothing I just remembered where I hid a pack of Twinkies at" I nervously replied. If he suspected something, then he didn't let on.
"Yes well, why not run home Xander and get some rest, I'm sure you more than earned it." He replied kindly.
With a lop-sided smile I dashed past G-man and headed out of the hospital. It would be harder without Giles, but it could still be done. During the night I had several ideas about getting rid of the soulless bastard. Some involved Giles doing a spell to maybe bring back the Hyena, but without the whole wanting to eat raw pork and wanting to mate with Buffy. That idea turned into a fully bloomed fantasy as I envisioned myself as a male slayer counterpart. Once the fantasy had dissipated I realized that it would be nothing more than a fantasy. The spell would most likely be too dangerous and for some reason magic has a grudge against me. The love spell incident is proof of that.
The male slayer dream was out of the question but the soldier memories might be the way to go. Most of the memories have faded from at least the forefront of my mind. I still have nightmares of fighting in the jungles of Vietnam, and if I'm still having the nightmares than that means that the memories must still be there. Just buried somewhere in my mind and their might be a way of recalling those memories without the aid of magic.
Giles had explained to us the morning after Halloween about the specifics of the spell and how Ethan had used a rather wild branch of magic called chaos to empower the spell through a bust of Janus. The G-man explained that once the bust was destroyed the spell ended and as the magic dissipated so would any false memories the costume had created. For the next few days Buffy could speak fluent French, but towards the end of the week she was back to getting her usual C- in French class. Any skills I had from Soldier Guy left me too, but his memories still remained. Once again proving the magic and I are at odds.
I head out of the sliding doors of the hospital and slowly towards my parents house. I have a house, but not a home. You feel safe in your home, and my house is not somewhere I feel safe. As sad as it is I feel the schools library is more of a home than my house.
The sun has almost completely risen about the horizon all but the small sliver at the bottom. The sky is clear and is ever so slowly turning to a lighter shade of blue as the sun continues to rise. It's early and my parents aren't known for being early risers. Mostly likely their passed out drunk in the living room. Well mom might have made it to their bedroom, but years of experience in dealing with my fathers all to frequent binges has allowed me to learn to do's and don't of avoiding his wrath.
It cannot be more than half past six, and I'm quiet when I enter my house. Front door is out of the question because chances are that my old man is passed out on the couch and the light from the outside world entering the inside of the darkened living room. Waking my father up from one of his benders is not a good way to start out a day. My window is stuck and I have not been able to get it unstuck in all the years I've been staying in that room. I would ask Buffy to use a bit of her slayer strength to fix it, but I honestly don't want her to see the squalor in which I live in. The shame of it all would probably kill me. I haven't let Willow into my house since the sixth grade.
I go in through the basement window, around the back of the house. It's all routine by now the window panel is loose and it's easily pulled out then put back into place once I'm inside. The basement stairs are easy too. Four of the steps creak while only 2 groan. Years of this routine have instilled in me an instinctive path to follow when going up the steps. The basement door is the only thing that I can't get a feel of. It's prone to squeak and groan at random times when opening and closing it. I have learned that it's best to go slowly and take my time.
I reach out and give the door handle a gentle wrest to the right, before pushing lightly on the door slowly pushing it open. After its open far enough to slide through I do so quickly and quietly. I don't bother to close the door back to risky and besides my parents believe it opens at times on its own. My dad keeps saying that one day he is going to get up and fix it. He won't he hasn't bothered to strap on the 'ole tool belt in years. I avoid every loose floorboard in the kitchen.
I'm hungry but I don't bother checking to see if there is anything to eat in the kitchen. No point I know the cupboards are bare, and the fridge is empty except for beer. Moving on I take the stairs leading upstairs pretty much the same as I do the ones leading up from the basement. Once inside my room I close and lock my door. One lock on the doorknob and two deadbolts just above it this too is routine for me.
Not bothering to undress or to even climb inside the covers I just drop unceremoniously on the bed and quickly fall fast asleep. The pain in the back of my head just barely starting to flair again.