Authors notes:
I'm getting an amazing amount of hits for this thing: About a hundred times more than my previous fiction which received uh hides embarresment...8. Of course, all that really just means is that people think the title and summary are interesting. But coupled with the 2 reviews(thanks for those by the way) and that it's been added to several alert-lists, I'd consider the first two chapters of my first Buffy fanfiction a succes.
Chapter 3: The experience
"Xander?"
Halfway through his third beer, Xander lifted his head from his hand and turned towards the young woman who had decided to sit down at his table. She had long striking black hair, dark eyes and she wore a black tanktop and Jeans.
"Joanne." He returned as he recalled her name. Joanne was the daughter of a man who owned a nearby saw-mill. Xander came there regularly to get quality wood that he used to create stakes and other slayer weapons. A part of the wood he used for private projects. A lot of the furniture in his house he had made himself. It was cheaper, better quality and gave him something to do in his sparetime.
He smiled at the woman, but groaned inwardly. He had come to this particular bar because he had never been here. He didn't want to be disturbed by his friends. He just wanted to be alone for a while.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" Joanne asked. "I haven't seen you in here before."
Xander schrugged. "I decided to go for a change of scenery. You?"
"Oh, I come here all the time. I know the regulars. Some of them are into woodwork, like you. I could introduce you to some potential buyers, if you like? I don't even know if you actually sell anything."
He shook his head and numbly returned his attention to his drink.
"No thanks. Don't want to infect the potential buyers with my cheeriness."
Joanne smiled sympathetically.
"So, why are you all down?" She asked.
'My best friend created a magical eye that's now stuck inside my head. I can't sleep or really concentrate because the feeling I get from the eye keeps changing and is distracting me like a fly buzzing around my head.'
Xander grinned weakly as he contemplated how Joanne would react to that answer. He decided not to find out, since it would probably lead to way to many questions he didn't want to answer.
"It's my birthday." He answered instead, as if that would explain everything. Maybe if he was vague enough, she would go away.
"Ah! the old everyone-forgot-my-birthday party."
"Nope."
"They didn't forget but decided not to celibrate?"
"If only I were so lucky."
"Ok, now I'm stumped. Let's just hear it."
Xander sighed. This woman was as stubborn as his friends.
"Well, it's my friend. She got me this gift." Xander paused, trying to figure out how to explain it without going into the whole supernatural thing. "I know she meant well and all, it's just... not something I wanted."
Joanne frowned.
"What kind of gift could possibly bad enough to start brooding about it?"
Xander grinned, remembering the demon-arm Buffy had once received for her birthday. The grin didn't last long though.
"A crystal eye."
The eye was still in the socket, but he had his eyepatch cover it. That didn't seem to even influence the feeling he got from it. It was like, to his Aura-eye, the patch didn't exist.
Joanne nodded in understanding.
"Bad memories, huh?"
As she asked it, Xander started to wonder himself what exactly was bothering him about the gift. It wasn't the memories, the eyepatch alone brought up the memory of Caleb gutting out his eye everytime he looked in a mirror. At least it used to. Lately he had more important things to worry about. He was after all responsible for the lives of 23 slayers and a small crew consisting of 2 watchers, a young computer-expert and a shaman. This would at least double once the summer started kicking in in a few months.
"Something like that." He returned. It wasn't exactly the memories of losing his eye that bothered him. It was the way everyone had reacted to it. His friends, the slayers, they had all felt bad and guilty. None of them had ever confessed as much, but at his welcome-back party that had been set up for his return from the hospital, the pity had almost been tangible.
Joanne snorted at him. "So, you're just here, wallowing in self-pity while you let this friend of yours feel guilty about the whole thing. Do you have any idea how rare it is these days to have someone who cares enough to risk a more personal gift instead of bath-salts or a postcard and money?"
The sudden change of attitude threw Xander off. One moment she was sympathetic to his pain and the next she was berating him.
"You know, Xander, I thought you were a good guy. The few times I've seen you, you were always nice and funny. But look at you now, you're just as self-centered as the rest of them!"
The bluntness of her statement reminded him of Anya and merely reinforced his sulking mood. For a moment he felt the need to defend himself. He wasn't like that, was he? But as he tried to come up with a defense, he realized he was.
"Yup, that's me. Xander 'ego-centric' Harris. Maker of insensitive jokes, leaver of fiance's at the altar and wrecker of friendships." He looked her straight in the eyes. "I already know this, so what's your point?"
This time it was Joanne who was off-balance. For a moment she just stared at him, then her expression softened. "Look, for some reason your friend thought you were over that." She said, referring to his eyepatch. "And obviously you're not. So, maybe you should just talk to her about it."
"I will." Xander assured her. "So, you still work at your father's company." He added to change the subject.
"Work there? Is that what he's telling customers these days?" She laughed. "I practically run the place!"
Xander grinned. "Yeah, I had my suspicions. Your father always seems too busy talking to customers to do much of anything else, let alone run the saw-mill." Then added thoughtfully. "If you're practically running the place, then you're probably in the loop of things. You got any new medium strength hardwood? Our stock is running a bit low."
"Well, we have almost dried a new batch of Khaya. Most of it has already been sold to a large european furniture mass producer, but there will be some leftovers. Not enough enough to justify shipping it oversees."
"Sounds good. When can I..."
He trailed of when he saw a young couple leaving the bar. He didn't see anything suspicious, but as he looked at them, the feeling from his Aura-eye shifted drastically. He wasn't sure what that meant, but decided it warranted some investigation.
"Hang on, there's something I need to take care of. I'll be right back."
Joanne, looked at him in confusion.
"Sure." She didn't sound very convinced as she watched him leave.
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Xander just saw the couple turning in a dark alley, of which there were plenty in this city. He carefully followed them until he suddenly heard a high-pitched scream. Without hesitation he ran around the corner and saw the couple he had been following. The guy however, was a vampire and about to sink his teeth into the blonde girl.
"Hey fang! Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?" The vampire turned around.
It threw the blonde against the wall and started after Xander. As it came closer, Xander noticed the vamp was taller than it had seemed from a distance. His inability to properly judge people's heights was one of the side-effects of his lack of depth-perception.
Xander started backing away.
"I-I said someone your own size." He laughed nervously. "I-I'm not your size. You're like... a-a foot taller."
With incredible speed the vampire lunged at him. Xander's reflexes just barely managed move him out of the way. The vampire snarled at the miss. Then its mouth curled into a grin and it wasn't a good grin, not for Xander anyway. This time it came at him with its fist. Xander ducked beneath them and threw his left hand at its stomach. Just inches before impact his arm was caught in the vampire's steel grip. The vamp smiled and squeezed. Xander let out a cry of agony as the bones in his forearm were being crushed. Gritting his teeth against the pain he produced a stake in his other hand and before the vampire knew what hit it, plunged the wood into its chest, turning it into dust.
------------------
Xander reentered the bar. Joanne was still there, but then, it had only been a few minutes. He got back into his seat, disguising his injured arm to the best of his abilities, which were quite impressive thanks to the years of experience he had.
"What was that all about?"
"Ohw, just business as usual." He answered vaguely avoiding her gaze.
He quickly ingested what was left of his beer and stood up.
"I'm sorry, I've got to go. I'll stop by the mill and checkout that Khaya batch sometime next week." With a sincere smile he added: "Thanks for the advice by the way... the one without the wood, I mean."
About to head for the exit he changed his mind. He turned back towards Joanne, rummaging in the pocket of his coat. He took out a card and tossed it onto the table.
"If you are in trouble or you see anything weird, and I'm not talking about your average weirdness, I'm talking about the really weird weirdness, you should contact us."
"Weirdness?"
"Well, yeah. I don't know if you've noticed, but weird things happen around here lately. You'll know it when you see it. Just remember that if you do, we can help out."
"Who's we?" Joanne asked, but Xander ignored her and left. Whatever he would have told her about the supernatural or his job as head of the African Branch of the Watcher's Council, she wouldn't believe any of it. Not without proof anyway. Besides, it was best if she didn't know. Somehow, people who didn't know about demons seemed to be relatively safe from them. He wanted Joanne to be safe. She was after all a great woman: caring, sense of humor and easy on the eyes, or eye in his case. The type of woman he could never let himself be involved with. It would be too dangerous for her.
Authors notes:
I hope you liked this chapter. I had a lot of difficulty writing it. It's always the middle of a story that I have trouble with, fortunately this was it. Next chapter will be the last one, unless of course I continue the story, which will depend on reviews, hits and that kind of stuff.
So, keep those reviews coming and don't hold back. If there is something that really irritates you about my writing, I'd like to know. I promise I won't be offended. Of course, flattery doesn't really hurt either;)
