Title: Emerald Spark (10/?)
Author: Cyclone
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.
Rating: Just a little bad language.
Spoilers: Anything and everything.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: After Halloween, everything changes. Sequel to Blackest Night. Part one of Emerald Flame.
Author's Note: Okay, y'know, the reason Blackest Night was originally a one-shot was because I saw only two ways to expand on it: Green Lantern Xander and Future Knowledge Xander. Both of them had already been done and done well by others, and I didn't want to retread ground already covered, so I intended to leave it as is.
Then I got this idea.
Xander felt strangely numb at the sight of his parents' dismembered bodies in the refrigerator. He knew he should have felt something -- anything -- other than an analytical assessment of the evidence. The presence of blood indicated that it probably wasn't a vampire, but the absence of blood outside the fridge indicated that they were probably already dead when they were dismembered.
It wasn't the goriest thing he had ever seen. Far from it. He had seen things far more gruesome in Africa.
He had lived through their deaths once before, in the previous timeline, so maybe that had something to do with his odd detachment; he had already come to grips with his ambivalent feelings for them last time.
"Be careful who you model yourself after, kid. This is the real world, not a comic book."
Xander spun... and froze.
There was a man leaning against the wall. A ring rested prominently around the man's finger. The Order of Taraka. But it wasn't the man's ring that drew Xander's attention. It was his face.
Xander had recruited many people during his time in Africa. One of those people was Roger Sloan, formerly a sergeant in Her Majesty's Royal Australian Marine Corps, until he had a run-in with the supernatural. Afterwards, in his own words, "Naturally, I reported it. Next thing I knew, I was -- what do you Yanks call it? -- Section Eighted and lucky to stay out of the loony bin."
At least, that was the story he'd told Xander. The fact that the man he had once known as Roger Sloane was standing here, now, wearing a ring that symbolized membership in the Order of Taraka cast serious doubt on it.
"Who are you?" Xander asked calmly. "What do you want?"
"Who I am is not important," Roger said. "Who I represent is."
"The Order of Taraka."
"Precisely," Roger nodded. "I'm here as an observer. The contract on the Slayer was strictly small-time, and so I came along to assess the rookies. You hunted down and killed one of us, so we hunted down and killed two of yours. You kill a Tarakan trying to make the kill, that comes with the territory. You start hunting us down, we strike back, twice as hard. It's obvious you didn't care much for your parents, and Norman was on the job at the time, so consider this a warning, kid. Don't hunt any more of us down, and we'll be free and clear. Unless, of course, someone's paying."
Xander growled, "First, you're a bunch of paid killers, which pretty much makes you open season to me. Second, you accepted a contract and came into my town to kill one of my girls, so why you'd think I'd just sit around and wait once I found out is beyond me. Seems you've gotten a touch arrogant with the great Tarakan rep. So understand this, you come into my town, and I find out about it... well, that just means the season's opened and there's no bag limit. And there's nothing you can do to stop me. You know that, or you wouldn't be here, talking to me about it."
"Maybe not, but we can kill your friends, your family," Sloan countered. "You can't protect them all the time."
"You do that, and you leave me with nothing left to lose," Xander said, his voice growing flat and cold. "Do you really want a man with the most powerful weapon in the universe and nothing left to lose coming after you?"
"Not really, no. I think arrangements can be made. The hellmouth isn't good for business anyway. Too much local talent."
"Then we might have an understanding," Xander hissed. "I'm not interested in hunting the Tarakans as whole. Far as I'm concerned, you're small fry, tools for rent. But if I ever run across any of you... well, like I said, you're paid killers, so it's already open season as far as I'm concerned. You come after me and mine... well, then, it's war."
"Reasonable," Roger nodded. "Like I said, killed on the job... par for the course. I'll discuss it with my superiors."
"Good," Xander said coldly. "Now, get out."
Xander was in an interrogation room in one of Sunnydale PD's precincts. While he had had to let Roger go in order to seal the deal, he still had a couple of bodies in the fridge, so he'd called the police, and basically told them everything that had happened, except for the conversation. Now, though, Detective Stein was reading him the riot act, making all sorts of oblique threats and basically trying to intimidate a confession out of him.
"Breakfast, lunch, or dinner?" Xander finally asked.
Detective Stein turned, "What?"
"Come on, Stein," Xander snorted. "You know what goes on in this town. You know what me and mine do to keep your and yours from being eaten. So, if you really take us down, the only question is... will you be breakfast, lunch, or dinner?" He leaned back and met the detective's gaze evenly, "You've got means, motive, and opportunity, but no evidence. Believe me, Stein, I know how things work in this city. I know you've got the connections to pin a conviction on me if you really wanted to. But what would that accomplish? You know I didn't do it, and even if I did, it would turn into a Lifetime special on how this great city's Social Services failed."
Xander would never know what Stein's response would have been, as it was at this time that the door opened. They both turned to look, and the detective scowled, "I thought I said-"
"This conversation's over," the older woman said in an authoritative voice that most drill instructors would have loved to have. "We're with CPS, Detective, and we're taking custody of Alexander here." She paused and added, "I do find it interesting that you've been interrogating him without legal counsel present. Not exactly by the book, is it, Detective?"
"This is my precinct, so I'll do as I please! The kid's a suspect in his parents' murder, and he's got a history of being-"
"Abused by those people and ignored by the city services," Tess interrupted, her steely gaze locked onto Stein's. "I can assure you that this will be investigated, Detective. Fully. So either charge him, or we're walking out of here."
Stein quivered, then scowled, "Sign the kid out of here."
Xander suppressed sigh. Damn it! he thought. I had it all under control, and now, this happens!
Officer Patrice Miller turned at the footstep she heard. She snapped her sidearm up and thumbed back the hammer. "Police," she hissed. "Hands where I can see them. No sudden moves."
"Don't shoot," came the reply as the woman stepped out of the shadows, hands up and open.
"This is a crime scene, ma'am," Patrice said, relaxing slightly. "You shouldn't be here."
"I'm sorry," the woman replied, shaking her head. "It's just... I saw a friend of my daughter's go in here, and I'm worried about him. The CPS agents said he would be moving in with us, but..." she trailed off.
An errant memory emerged from the recesses of Patrice's mind, and she grimaced as she realized who she was talking to. She holstered the gun and nodded, "All right. I think I saw him head out back, Mrs. Summers."
"How do you know my name?"
"That's... complicated," Patrice said hesitantly. After all, how can I tell you that I was possessed by a demonic snake assassin hired to kill your daughter without sounding completely insane?
Wordlessly, the pair of women made their way to the back yard, only to find a third woman at the gate.
"Rebecca Baxter," she introduced herself quietly, answering their unspoken questions. "My daughter's a friend of his, and I don't think we should interrupt right now," she added, gesturing into the back yard.
In the center of the back yard sat a redheaded teenager, holding Xander, who was sobbing in a crumpled heap, half in her lap. Scattered behind the redhead were the shattered and twisted remains of the Harris family refrigerator. It looked like it had been literally ripped apart through brute force.
The redhead looked up at them and surreptitiously waved them off, then turned her attention back to the young man in her arms.
"That's Willow," Joyce said quietly. "We should go. He'll need some time, and she'll keep him safe."
"Thanks, Will," Xander murmured, his voice raw. "I..."
"No matter what," she said, her fiercest Resolve Face on, "I will always be your Willow. Whatever happened in that other future, I won't let it happen in this one, you hear me?"
Xander stared at her for a long moment, then gave her a faint smile, "I hear you, Will." He extricated himself from her and stood up, and as she rose, he turned and said, "I think, Will, it's time you met someone."
She frowned, her forehead wrinkling in confusion, "Who?"
Xander closed his eyes and forced his will into his ring, sculpting every memory of her through it into the construct and giving it enough energy for a few hours. He opened his eyes and smiled faintly, "Willow, meet Marina. My fiancee."
Willow gaped, staring as the green construct of a beautiful woman extended a hand, "Hi. Xander's told me so much about you."
"Uhh, Xander..." Willow said hesitantly. "I've read Emerald Twilight, remember?"
"This is more like Circle of Fire," Xander replied.
"I'll probably last only a few hours," Marina said, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "But while I'm here, I'm real." She turned to Xander began shoving him toward the house with a giggle, "Now, off with you! Time for some girl talk."
"I'm not sure..." Willow said.
"He'll be fine," Marina assured her. "You got him through the worst of it." She looked back at the house and said distantly, "He loves you, you know. Not the way he loves me, but he loves you nonetheless. Whatever happens, that never changes."
Xander collapsed on the couch. It had been an exhausting day, and creating the construct of Marina had been draining, both emotionally and physically.
"Hey, kid."
He looked up, and his ring flared, "Who the hell are you?"
"Name's Whistler," the man said as he walked up and sat on the couch next to him. "I'm a-"
"Balance demon," Xander nodded, relaxing slightly. "Heard about you. You work for the Powers That Be."
"Yeah," Whistler nodded... then moved.
"Urk!" Xander's eyes widened as he doubled over, caught by surprise as the balance demon buried the blade in his gut.
"Sorry about this, kid," Whistler said sincerely. "I really am."
Author's Postscript:
Well, how's that for a plot twist?
I'm quite impressed with how many people figured out I was referencing an event that happened in the comics thirteen years ago.
As for the references Willow and Xander were making... actually, I'm wondering if I actually need to put this in, considering how knowledgeable you readers seem to be about Green Lantern, but I guess it's better safe than sorry.
In Emerald Twilight, Hal Jordan used his ring to recreate the entire city of Coast City, including its seven million inhabitants, after it was destroyed by Mongul and Hank Henshaw. This only lasted a short while and was the beginning of Hal's fall from grace.
In Circle of Fire, Kyle Rayner was confronted by a sentient construct called Oblivion that he had subconsciously created when he first became Green Lantern, and he had subconsciously called for help in the form of constructs of six other Green Lanterns. Unlike Hal in Emerald Twilight, Kyle did not go insane/get possessed by Parallax.