Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer crossover Angel the Series
Warnings: Violence, Slash, Rating R, Spangel, Eventual Spander
Xander's life changes forever when he tries to help a deranged Slayer...
To read Chapter 1, click here: http://fangstress.livejournal.com/10764.h
To read Chapter 2, click here: http://fangstress.livejournal.com/11426.h
To read Chapter 3, click here: http://fangstress.livejournal.com/11695.h
To read Chapter 4, click here: http://fangstress.livejournal.com/12097.h
To read Chapter 5, click here: http://fangstress.livejournal.com/12826.h
Feedback: Yes, yes, YES!
Xander Harris lay in the dark, knowing he was bleeding out. And there was nothing at all that he could do to stop it. He couldn't even move his head out of the way of the leaking pipe that dripped water onto his face, trailing down the side of his nose, landing in the puddle of his own blood spreading all around him.
He had been murdered in the worst heat of LA by a deranged Slayer, and it was all his fault.
Earlier that day, Xander, ignoring any common sense he'd ever possessed, had trailed the runaway Slayer from the sweltering heat of downtown LA, into the cool darkness of the old waterfront warehouse. He had hoped that his ability to tell uncomfortable truths in his soothing, yet denial-piercing way would reach the young girl, bringing her out darkest madness into the light.
Once he'd found the girl, things had rapidly gone downhill.
Now, trapped and dying in this dark, stinking warehouse, he couldn't save the people he loved. They were lost to him, and he imagined that they were being controlled by some evil he couldn't even begin to grasp the nature of. It was inconceivable that it should end like this. He would have wept some more, but his tears seemed to have dried up.
His hand, partly crushed under him clenched around something hard. His fingers, lovingly traced the intricate ridged pattern. Spike’s lighter. How had he ended up holding it? He’d thought it gone, much like everything else in his life.
How he wished he’d have taken that chance with Spike when he’d had it…
Xander snapped awake. Had he heard something? A scrape, some sound-- Claire coming back to finish him off?
He doubted she had that much mercy in her.
The constant drip of the water had stopped as if, by its absence, it heralded the imminent ceasing of his own blood flow.
All run out.
Xander missed the water--he was horribly thirsty. He licked at dry, cracked lips with a tongue that felt like hot sandpaper.
For a bare, silent moment, he raged.
Then he grieved.
Time to say goodbye, though there was no-one there to hear it. Not even the rats.
He heard footsteps. More than one. A group then? Rescue?
Too far away.
Voices, coming closer. It didn't matter.
Too late. He drifted.
Someone was calling his name. The voice sounded so familiar.
Light faded, and he couldn't make out the details of the warehouse anymore. Broken concrete and glass dug into his back, and he could feel his life's essence pouring out on the filthy floor.
Then, another voice, female, somehow imperious. "Something--someone--here is dying. I can feel his regret. His shame. You do not have much time."
"Somethin' got torn apart in here, that's for sure. PTB're cuttin' it close this time."
Xander tried to speak, but could barely draw breath to do it. He wanted to warn them...
That voice again. Snappish. It had to be Angel. "Gunn! Keep that tranq gun handy-- the slayer might be anywhere." Xander wanted to chuckle.
The woman spoke again, "She is gone. Her rage is hours old. Faded." Xander thought that was probably a good thing, Claire had done enough damage. At least, someone could let the Scoobies know what had happened to him. If they cared.
There was a long pause, and then Angel said softly, "Wait a minute-- I've got his scent-- Guys, over here."
Faces came into view, and Xander marveled at the blue haired girl. She looked more like a demented, beautiful fairy, than anything else. A large, black man, head shaven, peered down at him earnestly, and then there was Angel's face, sad and intent. He knelt quickly beside Xander, sliding cold fingers to his blood splattered neck to feel for a pulse.
The black man looked at Xander, eyes wide with pity. "Oh, damn." He looked away. We're too late... dammit..."
The Blue haired girl just stared with unblinkingly. "His life force is fading. I can feel him dying." She pronounced robotically.
Ah. That was it, then. Xander made his peace. He just wished he could tell Angel... tell someone...
Angel moved his hand down to grasp Xander's own. "No, “he gritted, "No, it's not too late--not too late for this."
“Xander...”he heard his name, and tried to respond. What was left of his vision was going fast.
“Look at me.” The voice surrounded Xander, forcing him to listen and obey. He looked up, meeting Angel's determined gaze.
All Xander could feel was regret.
The shadows softened the planes of Angel's face, even as he set his demon free. Even with the bony ridges, he looked absolutely stricken. “Xander," he said urgently, "it's your choice. Do you want this?” Xander felt Angel's hand on his own, pressing gently.
Xander couldn't react for a long moment. And then he blinked his one eye.
Once, for yes. Another tear fell.
Angel nodded once, and his eyes shone with compassion. And Xander realized that he would not spurn this, not from anyone, not even from this particular Vampire. Not now. He needed to live. He needed to live! He blinked his eye again. He moved his hand, feeling around for the lighter, but it was gone. Then something cold and hard was fitted into his palm, his fingers closed around it by a larger, colder hand. Xander sighed with relief.
He felt himself lifted and cradled as if he were a child. He could smell Angel's aftershave, the scent of old, well cared for leather. He felt cool lips at forehead, then his throat.
Sharp needle sting, piercing his jugular vein. The sucking sensation intensified-- it was almost painful, and Xander whimpered.
Angel's mouth moved against his throat again, and Xander could hear him, swallowing down his life, draining him of what little blood remained in his body. It felt as if he were being turned inside out.
In Xander's mind, he walked a long, black tunnel. Through his closed eyelid, he watched swirling amorphous red shapes float and drift. He was slipping away. No white light for him, he thought regretfully. He was going somewhere else.
“Xander, drink.” Angel whispered. He shook Xander roughly, this time, it was a command. “Drink! I need you to drink, Xander.”
It was so hard... so difficult to make his mouth move, to open it-- and he felt hard fingers force his mouth open, and cool skin was suddenly, shockingly against his tongue.
Freezing heat, burning cold. Potent elixir of life itself, of power and sex and something even more profound; Belonging-- all blended into one flavor, sliding down his throat in a rich torrent of red. He swallowed and gulped, until the voice said to him gently, “Enough. Enough, Xander.” He felt bereft; lost as the flow stopped, and a paradise of the senses was taken from him. He moaned, wanting more, and a hard, cool hand smoothed his hair.
“You'll be okay. I'll help you.” Angel said; his voice uncharacteristically tender, “We'll help you, Xander. And we'll get your soul back. We have forty-eight hours. I promise you, Xander, we'll get it back.”
Xander felt himself slipping away; he was dying and blind with it, floating in a liquid red haze that made it impossible to think clearly. But one thing he did know: he would survive. Angel had ensured that he would. But Xander was so tired now, he couldn't be bothered to consider it, and what that actually meant.
Angel spoke again. “Sleep, childe.” and Xander drifted off, even as he felt himself lifted and carried the in the arms of his sire.
And then he began to change.
That's all for this week! Hope to see for the next chapter... :-) Please feel free to give feedback-- I can use all the help I can get. :-)