Xander sat, staring. His fellow students who were still alive stood there, still in shock. The flames starting to rise from the rubble of the school outlined his form in the twilight of the eclipse, accentuating the scar travelling across the left side of his face. The firefighters worked around him, as he was unresponsive to their voices. To those who were helping the wounded and setting up a triage amongst the firetrucks, he seemed a blackened statue clothed in black denim against the massive orange red pyre.
The Mayor had Ascended into his demonic form. He hadn't been in it for that. He'd been working for the Mayor in order to kill demons and vampires -- no more, no less. True, the Mayor had spent a fair amount of time alone with Faith -- he'd figured that had been due to the old man adopting the dark haired Slayer.
Xander hadn't appreciated being played for a fool.
"Xander, are you alright?," Willow asked him desperately, approaching with a blanket.
"I'm fine," Xander said, voice dead of all emotion.
"Do you see now why we didn't want you involved?," Willow said softly, barely audible above the sound of the crackling flames.
"There is no future except what we make for ourselves," Xander quoted. "Terminator 2."
"You should stop doing this," Willow continued to plead. "We appreciate you getting the explosives... although I don't really want to know where you got them. You could still have a normal life!"
For the first time that day, Xander smiled. It wasn't a happy smile, it was a sad one full of the names of the fallen. Both the dead, and the Damned.
"Do you still wanna stay alive?," Xander asked, turning and beginning to walk away. "Or join me by my side."
Now there's no denying
Veiled in grey no more
The time has come to see
You've already fallen too deep
Xander stood at the foot of the bed, face pensive. He looked down at Faith. She seemed so still, and un-Faith-like. The only indication she was alive was the steady rise and fall of her chest.
"Hey, Faith," he said. "I don't know if you can hear me or not. So I'm just gonna tell ya. I brought you a pack of Twinkies -- you wouldn't want flowers, and the Twinkies'll still be fresh no matter what when you snap out of it. I'll ring to see if there's any change every week or so. I'm gonna be travelling for a bit."
To rise again, would never be the same
Long gone, the days nightfall upon you
Xander climbed out of the Greyhound, backpack in hand. He was still wearing the black denim trenchcoat that Mr Wilkins'd given him. It had been one of the first presents he'd ever gotten that wasn't from the Rosenbergs or Jesse's parents.
Los Angeles looked... well, big was the word he'd use. First things first -- he pulled out his katana that he'd taken as spoils of war a year ago, sliding it's scabbard ('Saya', Wilkins had said it was called) through his belt. Stakes in the coat pockets (as always), holy water as well.
To rise, to fall, to waste away
The blessed can find it all the same
Not to see, not to wonder
As all is torn asunder
Xander stumbled into the small, dingy room. Looting vampire lairs was a pain -- the room was full of stuff he hadn't pawned yet. He collapsed onto the small bed, pulling a first aid kit out from underneath. He cleaned the wound in his side, then sighed.
Life sucked.
Questions never asked, faces forever masked
Your fate is to unfold, in places far below
"Hey, Scar!," a guy yelled out to him.
He hadn't asked for the nickname -- everyone had decided that he looked like the lion 'Scar' from the Disney movie 'The Lion King'. Something about his thinness, his hair and the scar on the left side of his face.
"Hi," Xander waved back. He locked his door. "Your Mum doing okay?"
The guy's mother had been victum uno last night, and Xander had taken her to the hospital, rung the guy from there.
"She's gonna pull through," the guy nodded. "I owe you bigtime, man."
"Good," Xander grinned.
A Fallen Star is what you are
Forever scarred in heaven
A Fallen Star is what you are
And you have come so far
Xander stared at the basement office.
Who'd've thought? Deadboy had the initiative to move away from Buffy.
Weird. He'd never been accepted, and had had to move away. Angel had always been accepted in the Sunnydale group, and yet moved away voluntarily.
He stiffened as a thought occured to him.
What if it wasn't Doc Jekyll, but his Mr Hyde?
Xander checked his sword was relatively loose in the saya, and knocked on the door.