Angel of Halloween

Author: Simone of the Zordiak <burning_night[at]hotmail.com>

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, it all belongs to other people, but I can still dream, can I?

A fourth drabble in my menagerie of answers to the challenge: 'what if Xander dressed as something different for Halloween'.

Authors Note: I have given up killing bunnys with bunny-b-gone and am going to write out short drabbles to all the bunnies that have attacked me. Afterwards I hope I will be able to continue my other fic. I might expand on one or the other drabble, but which one remains to be seen.


He hated Snyder, he really really hated him. Not only did he forced him to troup around with a brunch of small kids, but he also had decided that they had to wear his type of "decent" costumes. Snyder had made them draw lots with costume choices written on them.

Buffy had drawn the princess, lucky her, she'd wanted to go as a noble lady anyway, so there was no big difference for her. Willow was silently grumbleing over the ghost, but at least she could wear something nice under her sheet. But he... ? Again he glared at his lot, hoping for it to change through pure force of will. But it still read the same.

He sighed and hoped that Ethan's had something halfway decent for him.

*****

Ethan listened to his woes and then started to smile. "Don't woory young man, I think I have the perfect costume for you."

*****

"Harris!"

"Mr Snyder?"

"Harris, what is that?!"

"My costume, Mr Snyder."

"I thought I'd given your lot decent costume choices! I don't think that THIS is a decent costume, Harris!"

Xander bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from grinning. Instead he pulled a book out of his backpack, opened it on a marked page, then handed it to the troll as well has the lot he'd drawn.

"As you can see, Mr Snyder, this costume followes the directions given in the lot exactly, I checked."

Snyder glared at him, but unfortunately for him, Xander was absolutely right.

"Just get out of my sight, Harris!"

"Yes, Mr Snyder."

He walked away, softly humming a happy tune under his breath.

*****

She heard a ripping sound and turned around. Willow gasped. Where Xander had stood a moment before, there was now a seething mass of darkness. And then, something was forming in that mass, was emerging from the darkness, like it just had been born from it.

Tall. Dark. Final.

The figure was more real than reality and it hurt to look at it.

And then it started to move.

Willow shuddered as she heard the sound the air was making, as thousand times thousand times thousand razorsharp feathers sliced through it.

Two mighty wings unfolded to their fullest, before the figure lifted off, flying away to collect the souls of those that lost their life in the chaos around her.

Willow shuddered.

The Angel of Death was partolling the streets and tonight his name was Xander.

End

Azrael, the angel of Death. Outlook influenced by Wolfgang Hohlbein's book 'Azrael'