CH 3: Baldr from Norse Myths

A Burning Angel

Xander looked at the title of the costume the store's owner had shoved in his hands and looked at him.

"The Flaming Rapier?"

"The title is a bit odd."

"I'm going to be leading a bunch of kids around."

"The alternate title is The Red General."

"At least that one doesn't make me want to speed dial the Child Protective Services."

"Hey Mom, I heard Xan… whoa."

"Hiya Buff, nice dress."

Buffy took in the sight of her friend. Dressed in snug black jeans and a black t-shirt under a long red leather trench coat, a battered book poking out of his pocket and a long red sword at his side. His hair had been dyed to almost match Willow's and the contacts he was wearing were almost wigsome.

"Wait until you see Willow."

"Hiya Wills, nice Boo you got there."

Dangit, now she owed him a twenty too. And she just bet Willow was blushing like a fire engine under that stupid sheet.

Halloween had been entirely odd. If he never saw another trick-or-treater he'd be happy.

Deadboy had managed to keep Buffy safe until the spell was broken. Willow had been a witchy-ghosty wonder. As for him…

He eyed his left side, brushing a hand against surprisingly soft feathers.

A whole life of memories that weren't his own, abilities and knowledge that he could use here to help save people. Just like he had wanted to.

His hair was now streaked with red and once brown eyes were gold-flecked blue that glowed when he was angry. His temper had taken a hit, but that wasn't anything too bad. He knew his triggers and his limits.

Willow had been worried when she did research on who he had dressed as. A general that had lost everything and more he never knew he had, just trying to do the right thing. There was one big difference though.

One hand slipped into his pocket, pulling the much read and worn book out to thumb the stanzas. The poor General never read the end of the play, never knew that he'd already had the Gift he'd searched everywhere for.

He knew it, though, and had it in spades. The Gift was friends, family you chose for yourself. While his may not number many, they were vast in quality.

Seeds from an odd purple apple in his hand were planted in a park where three children used to play. A memory of friends lost, heroes that should have been…

The black wing snapped open, scattering feathers around the growing tree, a flame spell lighting his other hand around the sword making Xander look like a vengeful burning angel. A leap and he was sky-borne, more free than he'd ever imagined.

For the future of Heroes Yet to Be.