VI: (h) Xander
Black Velvet
Velvet and lace as far as the eye can see. The dress code required for the place was frightening even without the vampire worshipping. Staring at everything like an idiot, I ignored the dim muttering sneering voice of my once-upon-a-time father that popped up in the back of my mind. I just couldn't help it. There must not be a single bottle of black nail polish left on the shelves of Sunnydale.
Compared to these people my dress sense if positively bland. How freaky is that?
To tell the truth they freaked me out in a lot of ways. They reminded me of lemmings just racing for the cliff. It's going to kill them but they still wanted to get there.
Surviving in Sunnydale comes down to two things: lots of luck and knowing when something is dangerous even if you have to come up with some mundane 'gangs on PCP' reason, because of course you can't admit there is anything dangerous to watch out for. Looking back it explains my decision not to join the Boy Scouts troop, the Little League, the School Choir, just about any large group of people because hey, even demons recognize smorgasbord signs. The fact that I didn't want to end up looking like a geek had nothing to do with it.
Ford was starting to look either pretty stupid or pretty dangerous or maybe just like a stupid dangerous pretty boy. He knew about vampires so what the hell was he doing in a Donor Club? The dude had given me serious creeps the moment I meet him. But other than tweaking him trying to get him to react I hadn't done much. Definitely didn't mention it to the girls. If gone to them with "creeps" they'd translate it into "I'm a jealous fool and I don't like Buffy liking other Boy". Angel could pull it off of course. Probably looked all soulful and Willow folded like a cheap house of cards.
True, I still thought Buffy was hot but one day sadly enough I turned around and she'd been regulated to the same 'sister' category as Willow. Being her friend had let me get close enough to get to know and love her and I'd found I did. Love her. But I wasn't in love with her. Which sort of sucks because she's a great girl, just the type I want to fall in love with. Big heart. Big boo- Ugh. I definitely didn't want to complete that thought. My luck there'd be a thought reading demon in the vicinity.When I look at her these days though I don't see a possible mate. I see someone whose toenails I painted licorice pink and let put pigtails in my hair at a slumber party.
And at that point I was pretty sure I should change my name to Alexandria. I mentally grimaced at the memory. It says a lot that Mrs. Summers doesn't even think twice about me sleeping in her daughter's room. Just what it says I'm not sure I want to know but I know there's a caption in there somewhere.
As we backed our way out of the milling pit of lemmings one of the Wannabes bumped into my arm I turned to apologize and he hissed at me flashing fake fangs at my chin. Since he was about half a foot shorter than me. The reflex to laugh warred for a moment with my desire to rant at him for his stupidity. I clamped down on both impulses. If I started laughing I was afraid I'd never stop and if I yelled at the lemmings they wouldn't hear me. They thought the cliff was a big shiny resort with free drinks on the hour. The fact that one of them knew it was big ugly death with free answers to the universe included at the pearly gates made my stomach queasy.
VI: (i) BuffyFrog Princes
When I was a little girl I used to dream of a prince on white stead charging in, fighting the dragon and carrying me off to live happily ever after. Like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman without the becoming a hooker part. I never imagined me saving the day and a group of Goth vamp-fans while I locked my prince, who was actually the evil villain type guy in disguise, in the basement to be eaten by the dragons, or vampires, monsters by any other name kill just as dead.
Resting my hands for a minute against the patched together steel door my childhood friend had wielded in place to create a human roach motel I swallowed my tears. I can't break down now. Pushing of from it I turned to my friends. Xander, Willow, and Angel, my other would be prince hiding a monster inside. That's not fair. He's not a monster. I heard myself telling them we'd come back later for Ford. He's a demon.
Depressed with only my duty left to keep me from collapsing into a puddle of tears I told Willow I'd take her home. It's not a good time for someone as tasty looking as her to be walking home even if a greater part of the Sunnydale blood sucking population was trapped in a basement. I shared a glance with Angel. He mostly hid his wince.
VI: (j) Angel
Shaken and Stirred
Of all the humans I have known in the twentieth century none confuse, aggravate, and just plain get under my skin the way Xander Harris manages. Being around him is like being next to a loose high voltage wire. Not a good position. I know. I lived under a subway station in San Francisco for a few years during the mid 60's living off rats and avoiding temptation.
Walking beside him as an unasked for escort I couldn't help but wonder when he was going to fry me. Every moment of silence just dragged on the suspense. The boy can never stop talking. Even when he's possessed. The air around him was electrified and his walk was the contained walk of the terribly angered. Yet, he hadn't thrown a barb or made a joke since we had arrived to late to help Buffy deal with her- friend? Betrayer? Other than the usual grimace he didn't even make any complaints about having to be in my presence.
After running into Drusilla the other day his disapproval rubbed like salt in an open wound. Looking at the ruined beauty of my creation I couldn't help but feel that I deserved the contempt that even in silence I could hear loud and clear. Resignation and depression weighed heavily on me.
Feeling more than a little masochistic I courted the despair in the deepest parts of my soul thinking that the boy would only confirm my own dark thoughts. "Go on. Say it already. I know you're dying to."
Xander stopped dead in his tracks. My momentum carried me forward for a little while. I turned around and found the hardest expression I had ever seen on his face directed at me.
"Angel," For such a quiet voice I could hear him clear as a bell, "the last thing you're qualified to do is guess what I want." He started walking again passing by me as if I was below notice.
His reaction was completely unexpected. His attitude catching me totally off my guard. Irritated I mocked his back. "It's obvious. You never liked me. You were always jealous of me. Come on you're dying to makes some vampire jokes."
When Xander halted again something was different. I hadn't needed to breathe in over two hundred years but still somehow in that moment I felt myself laboring to suck in a breath. Danger zinged in the air and I realized that the live wire I had been incautious of was actually a lightening bolt. The dark seemed to close in on us and I found myself wondering if I could find somewhere to dodge.
"You know Angel," Xander's voice was deadly calm, "I never was one to beat my head on a brick wall." He turned to look back at me. "Fist maybe but I have too few brain cells to endanger on stupid activities." I wasn't sure where he was going but I often felt that way around him. I did get the impression that talking to me was what he considered a 'stupid' activity. "Fighting the good fight that's different. Even a pebble can make a crack. Maybe the next pebble will break that damn brick. And I think I've run that analogy into the ground."
That sounds more like Xander.
Suddenly the heat and passion I'd been expecting from the beginning was there. "Fuck, I don't do eloquent speeches." He swung fully around and marched towards me. Fire in his eyes and a nasty grin on his face. A hard finger poked me in the chest. "You're like those lemmings back there." He waved in the direction of the warehouse of the vampire lovers. I opened my mouth to protest angry myself now. He cut me off before I could breathe in the air to fuel my voice. "No. You're so convinced what you know is right you don't think. Nothing I say is going to get through. You're an idiot and a coward. You take the easy way out."
The growl that resonated up from my chest was involuntary. I was evil and dangerous. I was damned and often remorseful. What Xander was accusing me of I wasn't. My demonic instincts were growling unhappily. He didn't even step back. An inner voice pouted.
"Ah, ah. You wanted me to say this. I'm going to say it. YOU ARE THE CURSE YOU IDOIT. You, Liam." Surprise briefly over came anger that he knew my real name. "The gypsies didn't give a crap about you, some drunken fop who died from blood loss instead of cirrhosis of the liver." He rolled his eyes. "Puh-lease. Give them some credit. They knew enough about magic to know that the soul isn't even there. They wanted ANGELUS to pay. Every time you've got a happy the demon feels bad. You caged it and won't let it play. You make its existence a living HELL! Or at least you should. No you mope and pity yourself. Damn it. You have Angelus's memories. He got off on making people suffer what do you think your pain is for him? Alcohol. Keeps it from feeling the pain of not being in control."
Bile filled my mouth. No. Its not possible. Suddenly my whole world was out of whack. I'm supposed to be paying for- my sins. My? Lost in thought I would have missed the next part if he hadn't shouted it.
"YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE!" Of course that confused me more. Didn't he just say? Another poke. This time harder. "Not for what the demon did but for making it pay." I felt sheepish and whip lashed. "Whipping it till it wishes it never stepped foot on this air-conditioned vacation from hell."
"Oh, and here's another bit of stupidity. You don't love Buffy." Now he's gone too far. I saw red back on firm ground knowing he was just jealous. I started to protest again his next words snapped my mouth shut. That and the sort of pitying half sympathetic look on his face. "You love the idea of her." His voice was soft and reverent. "She's everything you can never be. She's pure and hopeful. Her world's puppies and sunshine. She's beautiful. If she loved you that would prove that you were less of a monster because someone like her couldn't love something terrible. What you don't see is making her love you is another way to conquer her. Look inside yourself. Your demon positively salivates at the thought of owning her breaking her."
I felt exposed and scraped raw. My first instinct was to say something equally cutting. To make him feel like he was bleeding too.
I tired too. But I found I couldn't. I didn't know him well enough to dig into his soul the way he had to me. That scared me more than anything. For it proved him correct. I didn't know him.
Shaken I exclaimed, "You're wrong." Somehow when I said it I realized I'd said it hoping it would make it true.
His look was pitying. "Am I?"