A/N: Alright, I'm still not entirely sure if I'm satisfied with how fast this chapter goes, but I've been working up to this chapter for quite a while, so maybe that's just how it goes. In any case, I'm working on the next chapter but I'm planning on posting the next chapter of my other ongoing Buffy fic, Winter Song first. It shouldn't be too long before the next chapter is up, however.

Also, to those of you who haven't noticed yet, I've completely redone Chapter I and Chapter II, both of which needed some serious editing and updating. I might redo the Balcony Scene chapters, but I haven't decided yet. In any case, just to point out to you, it might behoove you at some point to re-read the first two chapters.

Credit where it's due: I listened to the album Visual Audio Sensory Theater by VAST, as well as Fallen and The Open Door by Evanescence while writing this chapter.

And so, without further ado:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

the Passion of Angels and Demons

Chapter XXI

The Passion of Angels and Demons

"Where are we?" It seemed the most pertinent question to ask, anyway. Buffy turned and surveyed her surroundings.

She and Angelus (thankfully clothed) were standing on what appeared to be a mesa in the midst of the desert. The sun, if it could be called that, was burning so bright that it lit up the entire sky. There was nowhere safe to look. Angelus looked so pale in the light that he could have been a ghost – but she realized he would have looked like that anyway. There was a pale, unearthly luminescence around him, something that demarcated that he wasn't entirely here – wherever here was. She looked down at herself and realized that she looked exactly the same way.

"This must be…inside Xander's mind," Angelus said, looking around. He was dressed in black leather pants and nothing else, and he instinctively raised an arm to shield himself form the cruel sun. He was wearing his vampiric face, and he tried to shift back. "I can't change my face," he said, raising a hand to feel the ridges of the demon. His fingers were claws, and he realized that more spikes and bumps had raised themselves along his arms – and was that a tail he felt lashing behind him in agitation?!

"It's what's inside of you," Buffy said. "You're…a pure demon, or as close as a vampire can get – that's the demon living inside your body."

The Slayer, on the other hand – she was shining brightly. Buffy's skin was pale and her lips darkly colored, her hair spun like gold, her eyes a clear, arctic blue. She wore a white shirt that clung to her form, enhancing her breasts and showing off her muscular midriff, and a flowing white skirt. She looked like a goddess, and Angelus was stunned to feel a stirring of that old attraction. There was a part of him, however small, that at that moment longed for nothing more than to feel her writhing in pleasure underneath him as he once had, that night so long ago that had changed everything.

He turned away from her, profoundly disturbed. If this was his true demonic self, as Buffy suggested, then why was he not already turning on the Slayer, tearing her to shreds, or even raping her as part of him longed to do? Could it be his connection to Xander's mind, the morality of the boy creating an echo of the loathed soul he'd once been cursed with? His fists clenched in fury at the thought of it.

"What do you suggest we do now?" he asked through gritted fangs.

"We look for Xander." She stated the obvious, and turned and headed off through the shifting sands without waiting to see if he was keeping up. Spitting out a curse, Angelus headed off after her. However, they'd both miscalculated their own strength; Buffy's astral self had boosted her Slayer's speed and she was already half a mile away from him. However, Angelus' bound had sent him straight into the air to land not too far away from her.

His humiliation only added to his rage, and he vowed to track down this Stoírm creature and destroy it for everything that he'd dared to put Angelus through – Angelus and Xander. Both determinedly not looking at each other, the Slayer and her greatest nemesis set off into the endless desert, each direction as desolate as the next.

***

Buffy didn't know when she'd started noticing it. It wasn't an immediate thing, like changing a TV channel; it was more like a fade-out in the old black-and-white movies her mother loved. One minute they were in the middle of the desert, and the next it had sort of faded and they were heading toward…was that Xander's house?

"That's his house!" she said excitedly, heading for it. Angelus clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder, stopping her short. "What?" she snapped.

"Stop to think, Slayer," he hissed through his fangs. "Xander's been possessed. We have no idea what we're going to find in there."

"The Stoírm is knocked out," she reminded him. "That's why they said this could work, remember?"

"You go first, then," he offered.

"Ever the gentlemen!" She sneered at him coldly and then headed for the property. The sky had turned from blinding light to stormy grey, and the clouds seemed to be tinged with red, as if…magic, she realized. She could smell it in the air – not the burning-roses smell of Willow's spells, but the charge of burning ozone that she'd come to associate with powerful demonic magic.

"I don't recognize this memory," Angelus said from behind her.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Xander's mind is…joined, in a manner of speaking, to mine," he explained as he surveyed the lawn. "Whatever this is, he doesn't remember it."

"Xander can't handle remembering anything," said a scornful voice from behind them, and they both spun around in shock. There, in the back door, was Xander – a child Xander, but unmistakably Xander. But there was something…off about him, a chill to his appearance that Buffy couldn't put her finger on.

"He's always running away from everything and cracking stupid jokes just 'cuz he's too weak to actually do anything about it," the child continued, his voice oddly mature (and fairly freaksome, Buffy thought) and cynical for a boy his size. "He doesn't want to remember how he made the bad man go away, so he doesn't."

"What bad man?" Buffy asked. The little boy gestured imperiously toward the wood and suddenly they were all there, in a clearing, and Buffy and Angelus and Xander were watching child-Xander and a man that looked like Xander's father struggling against one another.

"Sweet ol' uncle Jack," the Xander beside them spat as he surveyed the memory.

"Oh my god!" Buffy whispered in horror as the man reached for his belt buckle. Before she could stop herself, she was running for the image, ready to tear the man apart with her bare hands if she needed to. She'd never willfully murdered a human being before but she could feel the hunger for it boiling in her blood.

She passed through the pair with a tingling sensation on her skin. She turned around and saw the horrific childhood memory play on without interruption.

"She's not too bright for a Slayer, is she?" Xander asked Angelus with malice in his eyes. "This is a memory. You can't change memory – no matter how much people try to." There was something else behind the bitterness of his voice there, but she couldn't pursue it. Instead she watched as the weather roared in Xander's rage and suddenly she, Angelus and Xander were standing back in the backyard, staring at the smoky ruins of the wooded glade where Jack had attempted to rape Xander so long ago. "He deserved what he got," Xander said behind her in satisfaction.

"Who are you?" Buffy demanded.

"I'm Alex," said the boy. "I'm the part of Xander that he can't remember. But that's not really his fault. I just can't stand him." 'Alex' flashed a bright Xander-smile and her heart twisted.

"Why can't Xander remember you?" Angelus asked. "Why can't he remember this?"

"Well, part of him doesn't want to – but that part had a little help. That friendly little summer school we got sent to, that lovely little island…they like to play with your head. They think they have all the answers, when they really haven't got a clue what they're doing. Like little kids playing with matches: they think they can control the fire but they always get burned in the end – she's too stupid to realize what she's doing."

"Marie-Claire?" Buffy asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"The Lady of the Lake." Alex's lips twisted contemptuously, another of his seemingly endless mood swings. "You think she's there to help you but she just wants to control you, too – get in your head, make you do things…"

"Avalon," Angelus said, trying to keep up with the dizzying mentality of the boy…creature before them.

"Avalon," Alex whispered, turning his head away. "You just can't say the name without that little mix of pleasure and pain," he sing-songed.

"Do you know what's happened to you?" Angelus asked.

"Of course I know," he said, annoyed. "You think I'm stupid?" His eyes flashed from resentment to anger in a dizzying whirl, and the sky around them swarmed. "You're just like them – you think I can't control myself! Well, watch this!" And the skies bowed to him as lightning jumped from cloud to cloud in a dizzying display of pyrotechnics as the wind swirled around them and flames burst into life from the lightning in the air. Alex held out his hand and the fire swirled toward him, dancing merrily in his palm. He turned to them with a smile on his face.

Buffy, acting on a hunch, smiled brightly and said "That's awesome!"

"It is, isn't it?" Alex asked eagerly, preening as he crushed the fire as easily as he had created it in the first place. Angelus managed to look as utterly unnerved as Buffy felt, but she had more of a clue about what had just happened – Alex was trying to impress them. He'd been locked in the background of Xander's mind for so long that this…part of him had never really progressed past childhood. The part of Xander that controlled his power was like an animal, really – primal passions, switching from joy to rage in the blink of an eye.

Angelus, following her lead, nodded eagerly, and Alex blushed. Buffy felt a swirl of pain as she recognized the childish signs of a crush; whatever part of Xander that was…with Angelus was as much a part of Alex as it was of him. She ruthlessly crushed her own hurt feelings. This wasn't about her or her pain, this was about saving Xander.

"Can you help us?" Angelus asked gravely, kneeling next to the boy. Alex looked at the monster that was Angelus' true form without a hint of fear or revulsion in his gaze.

"Of course I can. I can take you to find me." He held out his hand, and Angelus slowly took it, and his claws seemed to bother the boy not at all. They set off without her, and Buffy didn't say a word to call their attention to the fact that the Slayer easily followed both of them. She preferred to save her strength for whatever waited for them on the other side of…whatever was waiting for them.

She smirked as Angelus' tail coiled in nerves and kept walking.

***

The darkness had been blissful, really, compared to the flames of before. Now, though, light was beginning to break through the cracks of wherever the heck he was, and he was drinking it in the way a drunk threw back a shot of vodka. It illuminated a dark, shadowy place – an in-between place, not the flames but not too far away from them. Maybe whatever had tossed him in the flames in the first place had lost interest.

Maybe Buffy had kicked his ass. Now there was a blissful thought.

He felt a pang of nostalgia for the good ol' days of the Scooby Gang, when it was just him and Buffy and Willow and Giles, trooping into the Library to look up the newest creature feature. That was before Buffy had died and he'd brought her back, before…Angel, really, and that was where it all boiled down to. Angel had changed everything, no matter if he'd meant to or not.

God, Willow…his oldest friend, next to Jesse. He missed Willow so much at that moment. He'd give anything for another chance to see her roll her eyes at one of his jokes, or try to hide her exasperation when she was helping him with math. Math! There was an odd thing to think about when he was by himself in this dark place, but then maybe it wasn't math that he missed so much as school, and skipping school, and his friends and homework and all the normal things that had made up his life until…this craziness.

Xander watched the cracks growing with apprehension, afraid that it meant that he had woken up as well. He didn't want to go back to the fire…

***

Alex glanced back again as if to make sure that Angelus was following. The vampire was trying to keep his grip over the situation, but the truth was he was close to his breaking point. With more than two centuries of life to his name, Angelus had thought that there was nothing that could shake him, but he had been proven wrong time and time again since Xander had forced his way into his un-life.

Since then, Angelus had spun dangerously out of control, and even he could see it. He'd alienated his family, driven the Slayer to a dangerous breaking point, lost most of his clan. These were all things that he should have been able to keep well within the realms of his control. Instead, Xander had taken over all of his attention to the point of the exclusion of all else. He was a vampire, damn it, and not just any common vampire! He was the demon Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, most hated and feared of any vampire! He should be rejoicing at the thought of the Elementals returning to the mortal realms!

Instead, he was risking his entire existence in a desperate gamble (in collusion with the Slayer herself, no less!) just to save his Cruor Aduro – and in so doing, save the world from the coming Armageddon. Darla would have staked him by now, and he would have deserved it. Instead, he'd killed his own Sire just to prove his love for the Slayer. Now, Angelus had to wonder how much of that act was purely the human soul, or how much of it had been driven by the demon within. He knew now that somehow, without a shadow of a doubt, he would happily watch Darla burn to death if it saved Xander's life.

He had time to be somewhat amused at his own reaction to his demonic self – not so much pride as irritation. One of his own faults was his vanity, which he knew, but he had been named 'The One with the Angelic Face' by the Watchers' Council for a reason. That part of him left over by that selfish, drunken dullard Liam he had once been in that filthy Irish back alley was in love with his own appearance. Then again, given how Liam's father had abused and despised him, the mortal had had little else to take pride in.

He shook himself slightly and tried to force his mind away from the paths of introspection. It had been a long time since he'd lost himself to thought of his mortal past, and he knew that it was Xander's connection with him. Since arriving in this place he'd felt their bond growing, could feel Xander's being singing through his mind, telling him that they were close to his Claimed.

Angelus took stock of their surroundings in an attempt to distract himself. They'd gone from the desert to the Harris house, and from there they'd crossed through ocean water without getting wet, and were now moving through what appeared to be a misty forest, dead silent as if haunted. The path they were following appeared to be going uphill, but there was no way to tell; physical sensation was dampened in this astral form and he couldn't appreciate the struggle of walking uphill.

Behind him, Buffy walked on, stoic and uncharacteristically silent. But then, he'd seen much out of the Slayer these past days that was so unlike the Buffy he'd thought he'd know so well. She'd reached all of her emotional limits, and much of that was his own fault. Somehow, however, he didn't feel the usual swoop of pleasure at that thought, like he had with Drusilla. The problem was that he couldn't tell if his…displeasure at her pain was his own or Xander's, lingering in his mind.

He fought the urge to sigh. Things just weren't simple anymore. When he'd first awoken to his life as a vampire, Darla had unleashed him on Galway, let him wreak whatever vengeance he would. He'd derived such pleasure, such satisfaction from the mortals' deaths, at the thrill of causing not just physical pain like some dumb animal. He'd found such artistic relish in the pain in their eyes when they saw him, the horror and the fear. It had made the blood even sweeter in his mouth, so strong and passionate.

He'd suffered his first defeat there as Darla had mocked him over the dead body of his father. But he'd found from her that greater pleasure in the build-up to that pain, in the game that they grew to perfect after that. He and Darla had cut a horrific swathe of torture through Europe for years after that, rejecting the Master in their pride and their demonic beauty. Then she'd shown him Drusilla, his greatest masterpiece.

The gypsy curse had ruined everything. He'd finally been given a window to return that hinged on the Slayer granting him a moment of perfect happiness! After a century of he, the great Angelus, feasting on rats in alleyways and shying from humanity out of guilt and shame! The humanity that infected every vampire had grown in this time, and now he'd bridged his mind to Xander. He wasn't nearly the demon that he had once been; he'd been brought low by love, that most wretched of human emotions that plagued vampires – hell, look at Spike and Drusilla!

Angelus looked ahead, refusing to look back at Buffy and see any more to make him feel…human. Enough of this – he was the powerful, the immortal! But ahead of him he stopped short at the sight of Alex, that strange creature, so much Xander and so foreign, looking back at him with eyes full of hope and admiration, those large puppy eyes that Xander would give him sometimes when they would wake up together and that was how he knew the boy was happy—

Alex's smile turned from Xander's happy grin to a smirk, and there was a coldness there that made Angelus almost…wince? He'd fought so hard to awaken the demon within Xander, and now that he was confronted with it he wished more than ever for his sweet Xander, his boy, back in his arms where he belonged. When Alex turned around to continue walking, the mists around them grew deeper, and Angelus was hit with the knowledge that that was Alex's doing, a bid to impress Angelus – casually reaching out and exciting the molecules in the air around him to shimmer into moisture, upsetting this surreal plane they were trapped in even more.

He was afraid of Alex. The boy-demon-thing reminded him of Drusilla's most horrid creations, a creature that was forbidden by most of the older vampire clans that had survived long enough to remain clans (such as the Brethren of Aurelius, the Master's old coven): Drusilla had sired a vampire child.

The thing's name had been Rose, in life. She was a little French girl that they'd found in their travels through Europe, before they'd met Spike. Darla had been horrified and demanded that Rose be killed immediately, but Drusilla had guarded her fiercely and Angelus had been amused enough to allow it. Rose was deliciously evil, utterly insatiable and selfish and demanding. In the end, she'd nearly killed them all. She'd been a demon trapped within a child's mind, given to all the rapid mood shifts, selfishness and hungers of all children. Rose had incited the entire town they'd been staying in to come at them with pitchforks and torches, and Angelus had barely gotten his coven out before the humans had killed them all.

Alex was even worse – a child given vast powers. What was to stop him from using them on whatever he wanted? A child who could reach out with his mind and pluck the materiel of the universe itself like an orchestra, calling the fires of the heavens without effort? He had done something like that merely to impress Angelus. What was Alex's plan? How did he fit in to Xander?

Tortured by his own thoughts, Angelus decided to simplify things. He felt for Xander in a way that he'd never felt before, not even for the Slayer when he'd been cursed with the soul. He would do anything to keep him, and that was just the way it was. He'd fight for his Xander, no matter what it cost him. He owed it to him for putting the boy through this, even by accident.

***

Xander was standing at the edge of a precipice into nothing. The air beneath him was solid, though he wasn't sure how. He was normally bothered by heights but he felt too drowsy to be afraid. If anything, he could stand here at the edge of nothing and be fine. It was peaceful up here with his thoughts and nothing else. Here was…where was here?

"My many-times-great-grandson," the voice whispered from behind him. He turned but there was nothing there. It was just him, here in the wind, supported by nothing. That voice had been whispering to him before, hadn't it? Why couldn't he think? "It is time for you to let go."

"Why?" Xander asked. "Why should I let go?" He sounded petulant, even to himself, but damn it he had too much that he wanted to do, too many people he wanted to see again. He was losing his calm, his focus – it seemed desperately important, somehow, to tell this voice exactly where to stuff it.

"You've already lost, Alexander. I am sorry that it had to be this way."

"What do you mean? What have you done to me?" Xander demanded, but there was no answer. It was just him, here in the wind, supported by nothing.

***

Could she do it? If this failed and she escaped with her life, could she kill Xander?

It was a question that Buffy had been asking herself ever since they'd left the bathroom, her and her troupe fighting so hard for Xander's life. At the time she'd said 'yes' to herself. She had told herself that her duties as the Slayer were more important than her feelings, something she'd been telling herself since the debacle with Angelus had started. She knew intellectually that the Lady of the Lake's response was logical. It was a cold, murderous logic, but one that she could understand: the Stoírm was likely one of the greatest dangers the human race had ever faced, and Xander was the key to that danger. They had tried binding him from it before, and it hadn't worked. The next step was to remove the danger.

It was a step that Kendra would have taken without hesitation. Kendra (who had no last name, according to her) was the girl who'd become the Slayer after Buffy's death at the hands of the Master. Buffy had met her during a particularly terrifying time in Sunnydale when Spike had called out the Order of Teraka upon her, a league of the world's deadliest assassins. Neither Buffy nor Kendra had had a clue of the other's existence, and they'd nearly killed each other after Kendra had spied Buffy kissing Angel, a vampire.

Kendra was every inch the Slayer that Buffy wasn't. Kendra had been trained as a potential Slayer by her watcher, Roger Zabuto, since her infancy. The beautiful Jamaican girl had no memories of her parents. All she knew was duty. She had no friends, she had no family, she had no romantic attachments. Her entire world had been honing herself to become the most dangerous weapon against the underworld that she could possibly become.

In truth, Kendra had freaked Buffy out with her constant soldier's ready. The girl hadn't thought for herself, which had been one of her weaknesses. She followed the Slayer's Handbook to a T, earning herself shiny stars from the Watchers' Council, who Buffy was beginning to suspect were a bunch of bastards, if their origins were anything to go by.

Kendra would mourn for Xander's death as a loss to the darkness, but she would have done her duty and beheaded him the moment Marie-Claire had finished her story. Buffy almost envied Kendra her belief that the entire world was split into black and white. Kendra couldn't see the grey areas that Buffy saw. She wouldn't be able to see that Oz was a wonderful human being those days that he wasn't a werewolf, and she wouldn't be able to see Xander for the great friend and bastion of support that he was to her. She'd only see the werewolf and the half-demon. She'd only do her duty.

Buffy couldn't do that, though; Buffy wanted to live, not just to be the Slayer. But was this turmoil worth it? She'd gone through so much with Angel, or Angelus, she thought that she would shatter. Now, she knew that she wouldn't break, she'd just end. She, Buffy, would die, and the Slayer would be all that she could be. If she had to kill Xander, she'd be done.

She stared past Angelus and toward 'Alex,' as the child-thing called himself. She couldn't accept it, somehow, that that was part of Xander. Xander was her Xander-shaped friend, the boy that would always be there for her with a dumb joke and a smile even when she was ready to give up, who would give up his comic books for a night at the library to study and prep her for her run-in with the next demon even though he had no duty or obligation to her. Even as Willow became a witch and Oz a werewolf, even though he was the only human of the bunch, Xander had stayed.

Now she was losing him to the darkness as well – or maybe she'd already lost him the moment that he'd met her. It would have been better off for everyone if she'd just kept to herself in Sunnydale and never made any friends. That way she could have saved everyone and let them lead their lives free of the darkness that seemed to infect everything she touched or loved.

***

Giles felt like he was going to explode. Within the Circle, Buffy and Xander were as still as the dead, barely breathing. Willow was still floating above the ground, connected to the three on the ground by ghostly threads of magical energy, while Marie-Claire and Drusilla were trapped within the boundaries of the Circle. Meanwhile, he was blocked out. Giles couldn't handle feeling useless; it drove him mad. And his Slayer and the boy that he'd grown so close to were there, their lives in danger as he stood by in all his uselessness, as Buffy would say.

Oz didn't seem to be handling it any better; the young werewolf was staring at Willow and growing pale at the magic that seemed to be flowing effortlessly from the witch. Despite Jenny's desperate spell, Giles was still stunned that Willow had found the strength to not only cast the spell but continue it indefinitely; there was a force within her that he'd rarely seen in a magician and it only seemed to be growing more powerful as the months wore on.

Cordelia had her knees clutched to her chest like a young child, and she looked close to breaking. Jenny was sitting against the wall, resting her eyes, and Giles ran his hand through his hair. Finally, he headed into the kitchen, one of the only places in his apartment that wasn't destroyed. He took out a bottle of scotch from back in the cabinet that he rarely visited and came back with glasses.

Jenny smiled at him gently as he knocked back a shot. He screwed the top back on resolutely. He wouldn't allow himself to get drunk. But he could offer some to Jenny. She smiled and shook her head. "They'll be alright, Rupert. She's stronger than you think."

"She's only seventeen," he whispered. "I know that as the Slayer she's strong enough to face it, but as a girl, I'm afraid how much more she can take."

"She's got you to lean on," Jenny said softly. Giles nodded tightly, never taking his eyes off his Slayer – not till she returned home. Oz watched Willow, the same determination in his eyes.

***

"We've arrived," Alex announced. Buffy and Angelus both jerked from their melancholy reveries, looking around. The scenery had again shifted imperceptibly, and they were standing at the beach. Standing in the sand, looking out toward the water, was a demon. He turned to them calmly and Buffy almost gagged.

The Stoírm, for it could only be he, looked like the finished product of what he was trying to do to Xander. The thing's skin was indigo shot through with reddish streaks, its eyes pure black. The enormous ashen wings were expanded from its back and the tail peaked around from behind him. Horns poked from beneath dark red hair, and there was a row of spikes going up his arms. He wore no clothing, and Buffy was vaguely horrified to notice that the demon had manly bits that were quite large.

It stared at them calmly, and she could feel the power rolling off of it in waves, making her vaguely nauseous.

"I must say, I'm surprised," it said, its voice making the air tremble like thunder. "You must care for my son-and-grandson very much to have risked the Dance of Souls in order to save him." Buffy almost gagged as he confirmed Marie-Claire's story of Xander's incestuous birth. "It is too bad that you are a Slayer, else I would offer you a place in my coming kingdom for your brave effrontery."

"Too bad that I can't look at you without throwing up in my mouth a little," Buffy shot back, her fists clenching in anger. She hated the demon before her with every ounce of her being, this thing that had plagued Xander's parents and ruined so many lives, this thing that had brought Xander into being only to murder him as a stepping stone to the apocalypse.

"You do have sass," the Stoírm said, as if pleased. "The Slayers I've seen over the years are too much a creation of the Shadowmen's successors, the Council of Watchers – nothing but tools."

"Where's Xander?" Angelus demanded, stepping forward. The Stoírm turned to regard him.

"You are just as interesting as this Slayer, aren't you, Angelus?" The demon asked him, staring at him. "Vampires are stupid, instinctual race by far, but you have risen above that. You are not just your bloodlust; you are a master of pain. All vampires cause pain by nature but you take more pleasure in it than any beast that walked before you. And yet the great Angelus has allowed himself to be more than tied to a mortal, to allow himself to feel remorse?"

"Don't think that you know a thing about me," Angelus snarled.

"You're wrong," the Stoírm said quietly. "I know everything about you because I was once exactly like you – torn between the powers of immortality and the temptation of the mortal flesh."

"And look where that got Rakia," Buffy pointed out. "I'm not going to lose Xander to you!"

"Rakia," the Stoírm breathed, taken aback. "You did read the story well, didn't you, Slayer? That's why you love him so much, of course – he's nearly a copy of her. Always sacrificing herself for good when everything around her was darkness. She thought she could save…" He looked away, almost human in a moment of supreme regret, bitterness, loss. But he looked back up and the moment had gone, leaving only the blank, implacable slate behind. "It doesn't matter what she thought, and it doesn't matter what Alexander thought – you know, it strikes me that there is a sort of irony in his name, isn't there? 'Defender of Mankind,' and he is instead the Key to my resurrection, and thus the key to Armageddon."

"So you're just going to kill your own son?" Angelus demanded.

"You took great pleasure in murdering your father, if you'll recall," the demon answered flatly. "Alexander carries my blood in his veins for one reason: the Key to Atlantis."

"Go to Hell!" Buffy snapped, and lunged forward, driving her fist into the thing's jaw as hard as she'd ever hit anything before in her life. Her knuckles felt like she'd just pounded them into a brick wall, but she was the Slayer; she'd endured worse. It had been satisfying to see the shock and pain break through the demon's composure as she'd knocked him flying.

"You must realize, Slayer or no, that you have no hope against me," the Stoírm said reasonably as it regained its footing and its composure. "I give you this one chance – leave this place now, and when I finish defeating the slumbering enchantment I've been put under I will not kill any of your friends until the apocalypse."

"I've killed hundreds of demons," Buffy said, standing her ground. "And you know what I've noticed? Any time that they're genuinely afraid that there's a chance that they'll lose, they offer me a way out."

Her reply hit its mark; the Stoírm flinched and growled in anger, taking a step toward her, until Angelus, who had slipped behind it, slammed it in the back of the head with a clenched fist. The thing stumbled forward right into Buffy's leg, which slammed into its face with a satisfying crunch. Angelus clenched his fists together and brought them down with tremendous force on the back of the Stoírm's head, and Buffy swirled into a vicious roundhouse kick that smashed into the side of its face.

The speed of their attack had taken it by surprise, but the Stoírm was quick to recover; while it wheeled to the side it brought up its own leg and sent Buffy flying with a stunningly powerful blow to the side. When the Slayer hit the sand, the Stoírm turned to Angelus and simply waved its hand, sending the vampire flying backward. Buffy screamed a battle cry and threw martial arts out the window; she launched herself at the Stoírm and hit it low. The thing roared as it went down and she struggled on top of it, slamming her elbow into its face repeatedly, until bright blue blood began to seep from its nose and mouth.

Enraged, the demon held its hands out and conjured up a bolt of lightning which crashed into Buffy and sent her flying. She landed on the sand in a heap, gasping for breath. Luckily she'd taken it by surprise, so there hadn't been nearly as much power behind that little love tap as she was sure the Stoírm was capable of delivering. She looked up in time to see Angelus slam into the other demon, inspired by her grappling approach.

The Stoírm rolled over and pinned Angelus to the ground, then raised its hand to conjure up a deadly magic flame. Buffy leapt up into the air and snapped a flying kick straight into the back of its neck. It yelped like an animal and slumped forward, and Angelus hurled it off of him and started slamming his fists anywhere they would reach.

We need help, Buffy thought desperately as the Stoírm continued to get up, no matter how hard they hit it.

***

"Oh, god," Cordelia breathed as Buffy's breath hitched and her knuckles started bleeding as if she'd hit something.

"It's started," Giles murmured. Jenny clutched his hand as Buffy let out a pained murmur, and the rest of the Scooby Gang breathed in something akin to terror as they watched their warriors, helpless to do anything for them.

Mathu continued to watch the Circle, on odd expression on his face.

***

"This contest is over," the Stoírm declared coldly as Buffy and Angelus began struggling to their feet again, bruised and bleeding. "Humans! You never stay down when you should!"

"You don't know a damn thing about being human," Buffy snarled. "I'm not giving up on Xander!"

"Very well," the Stoírm said. "It has been a pleasure, Slayer. Prepare yourself for death."

"Buffy?"

Everyone on the beach whirled around to see Xander, standing there hand in hand with Alex, looking confused and healthy and alive. "Xander!" Angelus whispered beside her, taking a step forward.

"Angelus? Buffy? What the hell is going on?" Xander demanded, looking around in confusion. "We're at the beach? When did we go to the beach? Why aren't you on fire, Angelus? Where am I? What am I wearing?"

"Shut up!" Alex demanded from beside him.

"And I still don't know who the hell you are," Xander declared. "But you look…really familiar – what are you?"

"I'm you, moron – or at least, someone that you forgot."

"What is this?" the Stoírm asked, looking confused and almost…scared?

"I know you…" Xander breathed, looking at the demon before him. "How do I know you?"

"There isn't time for that," Alex said flatly. "He's taken over our body and he means to kill us. It's time to return the favor."

"What?!" Xander gasped, but Alex only turned to him and grinned.

"It's time, Xander," said the boy.

"NO!" the demon roared, stepping forward, but it was too late. Alex simply walked into Xander and then was gone, in a flash of light. Xander collapsed to the beach with a scream of pain, rage, confusion, hurt, pain, sorrow, joy, ecstasy – one end of the spectrum to the other, reborn in the salty waters of an ocean contained in his own mind.

"Xander!" Buffy and Angelus rushed forward, but then Xander simply lifted off the ground to land on his feet. He blinked, and his eyes slowly bled to black. Buffy froze, unsure, but Angelus continued. Xander looked at him and shook his head, as if confused, but then his gaze locked on the Stoírm and his face twisted into a grimace of hatred.

"You," he said. Xander took a step forward and the Stoírm took a step back. "You've ruined my entire life. You took over my body and tried to kill me!"

"No – this…this can't happen!" the Stoírm was backing away, almost frantic, as the beach began to dissolve around them. Buffy watched, growing dizzy as the fabric of the world ripped away and suddenly they were somewhere else entirely, in what seemed to be a pit of fire as gouts of flame burned around them and lava made up the floor. She shrieked as an island formed beneath her feet and she was stuck there to watch as the same thing happened to Angelus. In the middle of what was beginning to look like a hellish arena, Xander stood tall and imperious, power flowing from him in waves as he glared at the Stoírm.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Xander roared, and the flames bowed to his will, forming a wall of fiery inferno that launched at the Stoírm in fury. The demon roared and summoned a shield of wind that quelled the fire, blowing it away from him. The two of them, demon and mortal, father and son, stared at each other as the flames died down around them. There was silence but for the crackling of flames around them, and then they launched themselves at each other.

A whirlwind formed around the Stoírm in protection as Xander blasted a bolt of lightning from his fingertips. The demon's shield repelled it and he responded in kind, which Xander simply absorbed into his palm. Buffy watched in awe and shock and near horror as Xander lifted into the air, laughing at the ecstasy of power as the flames shook at his command and began to pelt the Stoírm. The demon, powerful as he was, could not fight both Xander at the world at once, it seemed.

Seeming to recognize this, the Stoírm latched onto a gout of flame and formed it into a spear which he hurled at Xander while his concentration was on shaping the world to his will. It struck Xander hard and sent him crumpling to the ground. The Stoírm stood triumphant as Angelus roared in frustration – but he couldn't move any more than Buffy could without killing himself.

"You are indeed more powerful than I thought you would be," the Stoírm acknowledged. "But you are not powerful enough, my son. I will weep over your grave." The demon raised his hands to deliver the death blow, when Xander simply laughed and stood up.

"No, you won't – because I have something that you don't have and never will," Xander said.

"And what's that?" the Stoírm asked, stepping back cautiously.

"Friends," Xander answered easily, and tossed out a bolt of power at Buffy and Angelus. The Slayer screamed in pain as something like a flame shot from her, joining one from Angelus that Xander held in front of him, and at his command the flames joined his own, forming a blinding light that exploded in a supernova of power that shattered the walls of the astral realm they'd been imprisoned in. The Stoírm screamed one last scream and then was gone from the realms of Xander's mind.

When Buffy could see again, she seemed to be floating through space. How strange, she thought as she drifted lazily past a cluster of stars. She looked at the beautiful colors and was caught by an image of her own face. She stared harder and suddenly it was like she was watching a television show:

"A pig?!" Xander demanded, revolted. "I ate a pig?!"

Willow and Buffy nodded mercilessly, grinning. Xander groaned, smacking his hand to his head, and they all laughed under the California sun at another day at Sunnydale High School—

They're memories, Buffy realized. That was when Xander got possessed by that hyena thingie! She looked around and saw Xander himself, floating lazily through the cosmos of his own mind. He was unconscious. There was more urgency starting to leak through the lazy feeling of floating that she had. She glanced around and sure enough, there was Angelus. She wondered if she looked as bad as he did; that explosion had beat him black and blue. If that was how she looked, she was glad she felt numb.

"Xander!" Angelus yelled, making ridiculous swimming motions toward the unconscious form. "Xander!" Buffy joined him, fighting her way toward her friend. They reached him at the same time, caught in a moment of time.

"What do we do?" Buffy asked, panicked.

"I know," Angelus whispered. He shot her a look not easily read behind his demonic visage. "We bring him back to life."

"What do you mean?" she asked uncertainly, but Angelus merely bent forward and pressed his lips to Xander's. She watched in a sort of horrified fascination as Xander moaned unconsciously and then there was a flicker, like a spark of flame, and a memory cluster exploded into life around them—

Xander and Angelus kissing; Xander and Angelus in bed, fighting, making love; Angelus biting Xander; the demon roaring in Xander's mind, the power flying through Xander's body, dark thoughts and wants and dreams—

Buffy screamed and pulled Xander away from Angelus. The vampire growled at her but before he could do anything she pulled Xander's lips to hers. Another moan, and then another spark of memory, of life—

Xander and Buffy laughing as Cordelia tripped on her ridiculous high heels on her way into school; Xander and Willow giggling at dumb jokes as they were hyped on caffeine; the Scooby Gang dancing at the Bronze as Xander tripped all over himself; Xander flinging a cross in Angel's face and demanding the vampire take him to save Buffy, no matter the danger—

And then there was another explosion, something like a brilliant flash of light without the violence but there was motion, and then Buffy felt like she'd got run over by a freight train and she was gasping in breath and opening her eyes and sitting up within the boundaries of the Circle of Psyche, firmly rooted in her very sore body.

Beside her, Angelus moaned as he opened his eyes, slowly sitting up, his human disguise firmly in place. The Circle sang out a final song and the scent of magic slowly died in the air as Willow drifted back to earth and the golden cage that had kept them captive within the magic faded into mist. Oz rushed forward and caught the witch before she touched the ground, and she moaned into his soldier as if coming back to herself after a very deep sleep. Marie-Claire stumbled out of the Circle as Drusilla stepped back.

Giles wrapped his coat around Buffy's shoulders as she jerked away. Xander was moaning and writhing on the floor, whimpering in pain as his entire body shuddered and then—it was like watching a movie in rewind: the horns slowly faded back to regular skin the blood dripping from them flowed back into Xander's face, restoring color; Xander's eyes shot open, once again sweet chocolate brown; Xander's mouth opened in a silent scream, fangs receding and leaving healthy human teeth; Xander's skin slowly bronzed back to its usual golden tones; Xander's hair faded back to human; he rolled on his stomach as the great wings faded into nothingness and the tail was already gone. Within moments, a very human Xander Harris was shuddering and sweating in the ruins of Giles' living room.

"Xander!" Cordelia screeched, running toward him and enveloping him in a giant hug.

"Cordy," he whispered, and collapsed in her arms.

"Oof!" she complained, and Buffy and Willow quickly ran forward, and even Giles lost his very British composure to step forward and weep as the Scooby Gang was reunited just as it was meant to be. Oz grinned and Jenny smiled gently at the scene.

"Sweet Goddess, you succeeded," Marie-Claire breathed.

"So that's over with? You're not going to try to kill him?" Cordelia demanded.

"Well, it isn't entirely over, but there's time for all that now," Marie-Claire said, but she was smiling brightly. Reassured, Cordelia returned to looking at Xander, who was shuddering so hard his teeth were chattering. "You should get him in bed, Mr. Giles – he's been through too much for one so young."

"Yes – my loft wasn't destroyed," Giles said, helping Xander stagger to his feet.

"Xander," Angelus murmured, stepping forward.

"Don't touch me!" Xander yelped, panicked, and jerked away from the vampire's touch. Angelus froze, stunned. "You did this to me! You…I…you let…" There was so much hurt and betrayal and pain in Xander's voice that Angelus felt like he'd been staked.

"Xander," he whispered, choked.

"Please," Xander whimpered.

"There's a sewer on the other side of the street. If you take a blanket you'll make it," Buffy said quietly, not looking at the vampires. "Just…go."

"Xander," Angelus murmured. "I…" But Xander was only shaking even more. Angelus robotically picked up the blanket the Slayer had indicated. Drusilla led him out, and for a moment the room was still as they rushed to the sewers and vanished.

"Buffy…" Giles began.

"Later, Giles. Later," she said tiredly. "After about forty straight hours of sleep."

"Sounds good," Xander whispered, still shaking. Buffy shouldered the pain and lifted him up easily enough – too much of him had been drained by the possession and he was light as a child in the Slayer's arms. She set him in the bed feeling much like a mother bear as she tucked a blanket around him. There was time for one last Xander-smile and then he was out, sleeping like a child.

In the living room, she heard Giles agree to meet with Marie-Claire later, once they'd all slept. Good – at least I don't have to worry about that. Instead she'd have to worry about what the hell she was going to say to her mother about all this. But that could wait. For now, she was going to sleep. Carelessly, Buffy crawled into bed next to Xander, curled around him like he was a teddy bear.

When next Giles went upstairs, Buffy and Willow had Xander sandwiched in between them and Oz was on Willow's other side, all four of them deeply asleep. He smiled and went back downstairs to fix a meal, and see what he could do about cleaning up. But of one thing he was certain – whatever had gone on between Xander and Angelus that had started this whole mess was far from over.

But they could worry about that later – now they could just celebrate in the defeated apocalypse together, a team once more. And Jenny was waiting for him downstairs. A genuine smile graced his lips for the first time in months as he headed downstairs, the shattered windows letting in the light of a new dawn.

A/N: Alright, so I'm sure that some of you are going to be mad at me for that one, but come on – Xander's been through a lot, okay?! Give him some time! (Heh.) In any case, the next chapter probably won't be so exciting, but it also probably won't be twenty pages long, so there's always a bright spot.

I'm rambling. I've got nothing else to say. Seriously. So I should stop typing. Ah! It's about spring break and I'm tasting the freedom! And I'm not really awake right now! So, I'm going to pay attention to my class and post this.

See ya soon!