THE HIVE, CHAPTER 7
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover Angel the Series
Warnings: Violence, Slash, Rating R, Spangel, Eventual Spander, Vamp!Xander, Post Series, Ensemble Cast
SUMMARY: 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
To read Chapter 6, click here: http://fangstress.livejournal.com/13435.h
“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.
He yanked the heavy iron chains hard, and hands restrained him. He couldn't understand why he felt so much rage, so much pain; he was so ravenous! His chains clattered as he pulled at them again, desperately.
He needed to kill. He needed to feed. Why wouldn’t his maker let him feed?
The One Who Made Him murmured something to him in soft soothing tones, but it made little sense to him. It was all noise. He flinched in abject terror as harsh, phosphorescent blue light blazed; huge and frightening, encircling the entire room in a half-dome of crackling energy. He screamed again, overwhelmed with the need to flee, as twin flames sparked and burned, slowly resolving themselves into humanoid figures, and then even more slowly becoming actual people with recognizable features.
The woman, blue haired and immensely powerful, stepped forward and successive ripples of tiny, crackling electric shocks raced, prickling over Xander’s painfully sensitized skin. The man behind her, thin, stiff and severe, cradled a large, mystical looking tome in thin hands. He opened the book with an audible creak, chanting softly over it in a language that sounded like backwards German or something. Xander sensed something very wrong with this man; his form seemed unstable; flickering as if it weren't really there in the room. There was no scent to tell Xander if the man was food. Or foe. And, something seemed so familiar about him. The blinding luminosity bled through the man intermittently, he was translucent, as if he were some sort of apparition.
Xander shivered as the ghost-man drew something from a pouch at his belt; it was spherical, bright and shining and glowing with something light swirling smoke from within. Placing the glowing sphere on the floor, he tossed acrid smelling herbs over it, resumed his chanting, and all at once, the orb blazed brighter than the sun...
Incandescent silver light erupted throughout Xander’s entire being. His eyes, his mouth-- burning, burning… it wiped out everything, boiling away his sense of who he was, what he was…
He was lost—
He thrashed weakly, scalded from the inside out; throwing back his head to howl in anguish and fear; he was completely at the mercy of the twitching and jerking of his body in his maker's arms. It went on and on and on...
It was over.
Blessed coolness. Light that didn't burn his eyes.
He was still held fast, immobile. It was the one who had made him. Angel. His...sire.
With that knowledge came realization and clarity.
I am Xander.
I'm a Vampire.
What have I done?
Xander gasped and sobbed, fingers scrabbling frantically at the immovable hands that held him. He flinched, looking up at a soft voice to his left, gazing in wonder at someone he'd never thought to see again. It couldn’t be! But it was Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, looking down at him with an air of satisfaction and weariness. And Wesley was indeed, a ghost.
Xander was too exhausted, too hungry and just too fucking shattered to deal with it. He sobbed again, sagging in Angel’s arms, trying desperately to get himself under control. Wesley smiled encouragingly at him. It hurt, it hurt him even more. Xander turned his head away, ashamed. He was something to be pitied.
“Is it done?” Angel asked, urgently.
Wesley drew back a little. "It's done, Angel. He has his soul." Wesley said; his voice oddly thin, hollow."He may be a little disoriented for awhile."
"Thanks, Wes." Angel said, stroking Xander's hair.
Angel’s hand was soothing, but then Xander began to wonder... everything was such a jumble of confusion--he trembled, wondering if he'd done anything...horrible. The memories of the irresistible need to kill-- to rip into someone's throat with his teeth, now threatened to overwhelm him...
It occurred to him that God didn't love him anymore. He was damned. "Oh! Oh, God--" He choked. He was damned; he would go to hell when he dusted...
"Shhh, childe." Angel murmured. “You have your soul.” He shook Xander, very gently. “Do you hear me, Xander? You have your soul."
Xander didn't feel...different, but everything was different. He thought he was still himself-- but there were all these urges and needs and barely restrained violence right under his skin…
...hungry...so hungry... He jerked again, squirming, then gasped in pain. Angel still held him easily. Xander was still weak, still wounded. For the first time he realized his whole torso, wrapped tightly with bandages made it almost impossible to move. He quit moving. Much better. But he was so hungry...
But Angel and Wesley were still talking quietly. It was a blessed distraction to Xander, and he honed in on it—anything to keep the terrible hunger at bay.
"Angel?" Wesley said, "Illyria is tiring. We need to take down the portal."
"Oh, sure, Wes, " Angel replied, shifting Xander to a more comfortable position.
Wesley nodded at the blue haired woman. "Will you be joining me in my dimension, Illyria?"
Illyria cocked her head in an odd, birdlike way, replying in an unnerving mechanical treble. "I shall join you, Wes-Ley. My desire to couple with you in many interesting and varied ways has intensified. There are many combinations we have not yet explored. In the Phantasmal Dimension inhabited by your spectral form, there are many forms available to us both--"
"Illyria!" Wesley actually squeaked. It reassured Xander, somehow. Some things stayed the same, he thought drowsily.
"Such as our enhanced abilities to shift genders--"
"Uhmm--Wes?" Angel's voice shot up an octave, he sounded impatient, irritated. Xander shrank within himself.
“And varieties of interdimensional demonic species—“Illyria cocked her head.
"Err--now, please, Illyria?" Wesley ducked his head, and even though semi-translucent, he gave Xander the utterly ridiculous impression that the ghost was blushing.
Wesley motioned impatiently at Illyria, who nodded briefly, dramatically raising both arms above her head, palms out. She brought them down again gracefully, and the cold blue light faded slowly, taking Illyria and Wesley away with it.
Angel and Xander, left in cool, welcoming darkness, sat quietly together for a long moment. Xander, feeling muzzy, watched a heavy iron key float towards him. It fit itself to the locks on Xander's manacles and unlocked them.
"Thanks again, Wes." Angel said as the manacles fell open, dropping the chains to the floor, and Xander, freed, stayed still, too exhausted to do much other than lie there in an ungainly sprawl against Angel. The key moved a little ways away and dropped to the floor with a metallic clink.
Silence. Slowly, Xander looked up to meet Angel’s eyes.
Angel gazed down at Xander with something fiercely protective-- loving, in his expression. “Alright.” He murmured, lifting his wrist to his mouth. He allowed his demon face to come to the surface, slashing his wrist with razor sharp fangs to allow the blood to flow freely. "Let's get you fed, Xander."
Xander's own demon rose joyfully, gleefully. And, ohhh, it knew exactly what to do; Xander felt his face shift and crunch, and with both hands, he gripped Angel’s bleeding wrist in his trembling hands and drank.
Well, that’s this week’s installment! I hope you enjoyed it—and feel free to drop me a line and give me feedback.
Catch y’all next week!