Fury of the Beast 26
No cash here guys. Sorry. I really could use it, but I don't have it. Suing me would just be a waste of the court's time.
Well, here we go, chapter 26. Personally I can't help but wonder how much longer it'll take for me to write out what I'm trying to go through. Ah well. It's almost there, I can assure you of that.
Aura reeled as Goral struck at her. The newly risen sun glinted off of Goral's fangs as he advanced upon her own werewolf form, almost grinning at her. In her own werewolf form, she was stronger than any human could be, but Goral seemed to be several orders of magnitude stronger than her.
While she was impressive at eight feet tall, with white and black fur spiraling patterns throughout her body, Goral was scary in his full form. He had begun his transformation by simply turning into his werewolf form, but it had been topped off when metal spikes seemed to burst from his flesh, which unfolded into flaps, covering him with flexible yet nearly impossible to cut armor, and large horns had sprouted from his head. His eyes glowed red with unholy fire.
His secondary transformation seemed to endow him with far more strength than he would have had otherwise. Hence Aura's current situation. She managed to avoid a strike, but failed to react to Goral's next, a powerful uppercut slash that took her off her feet, blood flew through the air as she landed on the ground with a grunt.
Goral advanced upon her, intent on finishing the child of his host, feeling Oz's horror and terror upon being witness to this situation, and being incapable of preventing it. Goral reveled in the feelings as he raised a massive, armor-coated arm to bring down on Aura's head.
She managed to stop his arm by raising both her own, his massive claws inches from her own snout. She let out a loud growl as she pushed him back off his feet, leaping to her own and jumping on top of him, trying to rip into his flesh as she channeled her rage.
His armored skin managed to deflect most of the damage, however, and his body still possessed the rapid healing ability of the werewolves. The wounds inflicted were healed as fast as she could make them, and even worse, the armor healed itself as well. This would quickly become a battle of attrition, one she could not win in these circumstances. There was nothing she could use to kill him quickly, but he could do any number of things to end her life in a few blows.
Goral managed to kick Aura off him, and as he climbed to his feet Aura landed on hers, scraping her claws on a few stones as she hit the ground.
With a feral roar, she charged her demonically possessed father, hoping against hope she might be able to stop him.
Xander rubbed his face as he considered all the information Sariel was telling him. He finally rose his hands, speaking with exasperation. "Whoa, wait a minute. You're telling me there's a way to get away from being a vampire? Why the hell didn't you say so earlier?"
Sariel shook her head. "It is a long and hard journey, Xander. It is not something that is as simple as fulfilling a set of deeds, it is instead a state of mind, of acceptance of one's nature and overcoming it. Jessica of the Salubri can help you in this matter. Golconda, Unity, is but the first step of Ascension, and I believe you are capable and worthy enough of attaining that state. But first you have to stop Ifrit, or you will not have time to learn and grow. No one being will be able to defeat him, it will take an alliance, and you are the focal point, the heart of any such alliance."
Xander sighed. "Great. First you say there's a way for me to not be a bloodsucker, then you say I'm probably going to die before I have a chance at it. Nice to know. Now what?"
Sariel rolled her eyes, a very un-godlike gesture. "Now I will inform you of a demon in your midst. Oz is not who he appears to be."
Xander blinked. "Wha? Run that by me one more time. You're telling me Oz is a demon too? Geez, great. That's just perfect!"
Sariel sighed. "Must you be so difficult? I am attempting to help you save your existence and the existence of your entire world and you are simply making smart-aleck comments."
That deflated some of Xander's anger. He took a deep breath and nodded.
Sariel continued. "Oz was possessed by the Devil Knight Goral when he was gravely wounded, some time after joining the Children of Gaia werewolf tribe. In true demonic fashion, he killed more than half the tribe. His daughter, Aura, has been tracing him and trying to kill him. Unfortunately, at this time, she is not capable."
Xander rose his hand. "Can I help? I mean, I know Oz wouldn't want to live that way."
Sariel shook her head. "Aura and Goral are currently battling in the newly-risen sun. I will bring her here as soon as I have the chance, but you can't help in a battle in the light."
Xander sighed. "You know, vampirism really sucks. Pun so completely intended."
Vanessa was telling her tale to Sandra, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea. She shivered whenever she remembered the feeling of power the Devil Lord possessed. As she finished, detailing the end of the vampire that had rescued her, both Watcher and Slayer considered their next move.
Then an unexpected thing happened. A crackle of electricity ripped through the air, lightning converging into a single point in Sandra's living room. Then there was a tearing sound, and a familiar figure dropped down and onto the floor.
Unfortunately, Sandra had the curtains drawn open, and Xander immediately caught fire as some of the sunlight impacted his skin. He let out a very unmanly yelp as he instinctively rolled over towards the kitchen area, out of the light. Sandra sat and gaped for a few moments, while Vanessa quickly closed the curtains, immediately darkening the flat.
Xander let out a sigh of relief on the kitchen floor, wincing as his hands and face reminded him they'd been rather badly scorched from his encounter with the sun. He slowly got to his feet and looked to the ceiling. "Hey, thanks for dropping me off, but I have to say your aim is pretty bad! I nearly got cooked here! Sheesh." He took a deep breath and shook his head.
Vanessa crossed her arms. "Okay Xander, what the heck is going on now? The last time I checked teleporting wasn't part of a vampire's abilities."
Sandra spoke up. "Actually there have been several documented vampires that are able..." She trailed off as both the Kindred and the Slayer gave her matching glares. "Nevermind, ignore me."
Xander took a deep breath. "I was dropped off by somebody with way, way more magic mojo than just about anybody I can think of, with the possible exception of David Copperfield. Anyway, there's an old vineyard a ways off to the west of the school, I think it's the Hothman's winery. Anyway, there's a weapon under the place that I'm told would be seriously dangerous in your hands, if we can get ahold of it."
Sandra rose an eyebrow, her professional interest in such items rising to the fore. "What sort of weapon? I would think any powerful mystical artifact would be discovered by the Council, given our resources."
He shrugged. "Don't ask me why the masters of tweed didn't find it earlier, I'm just repeating what I was told. It's called the Slayer's Scythe according to my friend with the teleporter, and I'm willing to bet it's pretty kickass."
"What about you?" Vanessa asked, crossing her arms as she examined Xander's slightly-burnt form.
He shrugged. "I'll have to wait til sundown before I can leave here, I guess." He turned to Sandra. "Mind if I use your phone? I've definitely got to make some calls."
Sandra nodded, and while Xander moved to the kitchen, Vanessa turned to Sandra and spoke seriously. "I'm going to go after the weapon there. Even if we can't use it, it'd be best to keep the enemy from getting it. I'm willing to bet Ifrit could just bypass any magical wards holding it, he's a powerful sonofabitch."
Sandra frowned, about to raise some objections, but upon seeing the expression of determination on the Slayer's face, she nodded reluctantly. "Be careful." Was all she could bring herself to say.
Vanessa simply gave her Watcher a tight smile. "Count on it."
Vanessa made good time as she ran at full speed through Sunnydale. She knew roughly where the vineyard was, and she cut corners, leaping through backyards and running across streets, still devoid of traffic in the early morning.
Without a single delay along the way, which was likely entirely credited to the sunrise rather than her reputation as a Slayer, she reached the vineyard in record time. Taking a moment to pause and let her muscles to settle for a bit, she looked around carefully, rubbing her nose as she took deep breaths.
Before her calling, she was one of those unfortunates with allergies. Now the Slayer essence seemed to repress that, but her nose still itched in spring. It irritated her, but at least she could breathe properly.
Changing her pace, she snuck her way into the fermenting rooms, moving down the stairs without making a sound. Many barrels of wine stood, which would likely now never be sold or used. That tended to happen in a place like Sunnydale. People die, and nobody picks up the assets.
She found the flickering light of fire coming from an opening in the floor. She carefully looked around, seeing a gap where someone had apparently smashed their way downward. Sensing a trap, she set herself on guard as she dropped down, spotting a figure sitting on the floor in a meditation pose, surrounded by a circle of candles. Behind him was a gleaming axe, embedded in an altar, that seemed quite well-crafted, and its power called out to her.
He spoke. "I've been waiting for you, Vanessa." He rose to his feet, and for the first time, Vanessa took in the appearance of the Devil Knight Kail, without subterfuge, without hiding within the skin of his host.
His hair was fiery red, horns sprouting from his head, long and ram-like. Fire seemed to seethe behind his eyes. Yet, his face was still that of Jack's. A mocking parody of his warm smile played on his lips, and he stood before the Slayer, completely relaxed, prepared for whatever she might throw at him.
He made a casual gesture behind him, to the axe that was embedded into the stone. "I see you've come for your weapon. I rather thought you might. While I'm sure it'd look good on you, I'm afraid I can't let you have it. A First Rank Devil Knight on your side is just too much of a risk, and we've got problems enough with Allandra's pappy."
Vanessa let out a sigh, moving almost instinctively into a defensive stance as Kail moved into a neutral pose, studying Vanessa intently.
The pair watched each other for moments, the battle taking place not in the usual flurry of punches and kicks, but the tensing of muscles as attacks were prepared and countered even before they could begin. For a full ten seconds the Devil Knight and the Slayer faced each other, stances shifting minutely before Vanessa moved in, her leg flashing out and slamming into Kail's right side.
Kail stumbled for a moment, then he recovered, grabbing Vanessa's hand as she tried to follow up with a punch and slamming his palm into her chest, forcing the Slayer to spin away from him with the sheer power of the blow.
Recovering quickly, she blocked Kail's hand as it moved towards her face, a thumb out to gouge her eye. She twisted his arm, flipping him aside as she turned to get her hands on the weapon that was calling out for her.
Just as her hands clasped themselves around the axe, Kail wrapped his arms around her chest in a bear-hug and began to squeeze, forcing her to let go as she gasped in pain. Her hands slammed ineffectually in his arms for a few moments, then she kicked her foot down and under, slamming into Kail's crotch.
With a howl of pain, he threw her aside, groaning with watering eyes as he growled out, "Bitch." Before getting into a defensive stance again. Vanessa climbed to her feet, breathing heavily, her feeling more energized now. In the moment her hands touched the axe, something had been awakened inside her. Kail seemed to notice, dimly, that his opponent had suddenly grown a little more confident.
In a flurry of punches and kicks, Vanessa advanced on Kail, using sudden and powerful improvisations in her technique that were nearly flawless. Between Vanessa and Jack, Jack had always been the more proficient fighter. Vanessa managed to defeat him, or fight him to a standstill, due to her strength and agility enhancements given by the essence of the Slayer.
Kail's possession of Jack's body should have allowed him to counter anything Vanessa could come up with. He was as strong as a Slayer himself, as he was a Devil Knight, just as Vensarra had been before her death and transformation into the Slayer essence.
But now, he found himself barely able to deflect her attacks, attacks that were growing more and more proficient, more dangerous and more skilled by the second. Vanessa expertly maneuvered him, and he knew there was nothing to stop the sequence of strokes coming at him now. Unknown to both combatants, in the moment Vanessa touched the weapon, Vensarra's spirit began to awaken, providing Vanessa with more strength, more skill from her fractured, insane memory.
He blocked a hand that would have crushed his throat, trying to twist out of the way of a kick that came at him milliseconds later. He wasn't quite nimble enough, however, and her leg swept him off balance, just long enough for Vanessa to grab his arm and flip him to the floor.
Rolling to his feet as Vanessa's foot came down on the floor where his head was a second before, he launched his own counterattack, sweeping his legs along the floor to try and knock her off her feet, where he could end the fight quickly. However, with inhuman reflexes, Vanessa caught his foot in her arm, and she pulled his body towards her. Off-balance and overcome, Kail had no choice but to go with the motion.
He tried to strike at her with his arms as his short flight towards her commenced, but she'd anticipated that. She ducked under his hasty strike and both her palms slammed into his chest with a resounding crack.
With a howl of agony and loss, Kail felt the pendant that was the source of his power, the thing that was anchoring him to this plane and keeping this body alive shatter inside of his chest. Blood-red energy coursed out of his mouth, flying into the air and swirling about in a small vortex, before dissipating.
On the floor, Jack Morris lay, blood flowing from one side of his mouth, his body returned to him. He coughed, trying to breathe, but with the magic of Kail's pendant rapidly fading, his blood was quickly slowing, his body heartless.
Vanessa gave a cry, going to her knees and cradling his head, holding his hand. "Please, Master, don't..."
He gave her a weak smile and squeezed her hand. "It's all right, Vanessa. You freed me." He coughed again, some more blood flowing into his mouth. "You did good kid, real good. You kicked my ass." He managed to grin, and Vanessa smiled slightly in return, the familiar feeling of pride at the praise in learning returning.
He managed to speak a few more words, feeling the strength leaving him. "Go on, Vanessa. You've got a job to do out there, make me proud."
She nodded, biting her lip. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you before, Master. I'm glad I could help you now."
He smiled slightly, and then with a sigh, his eyes lost their light. Vanessa bowed her head and cried.
Wesley sat in his extremely cramped seat in the old, run down jet liner he was taking to Los Angeles. The fact that he'd been forced to rely upon an old piece of technological claptrap was something that had unnerved him greatly. He would have felt much better if it were possible for him to arrange a long-distance teleport to California, a land he'd left behind decades ago with a extreme relief.
Unfortunately, despite the new races now inhabiting the world, using powerful magic was still a fairly risky proposition. The more someone tries to do with it, the more likely the spell would backfire and explode in his face. Reality was unkind on those who dared to abuse her.
The little blue dragon sat in his lap, apparently entranced by the action film on the miniature television set on the back of the seat in front of him. No doubt the little creature was considering humans to be odd creatures overly concerned with sex and violence. She seemed to be enjoying it though, so he let himself smile a bit and to concentrate on the task at hand.
He wasn't paying much attention to the film, as he'd sensed another presence on the plane. Strong, not malevolent, but quite powerful. The thing that concerned him is he didn't begin to feel it at all until long after they were in flight.
Then, just like the classic Twilight Zone episode, he saw a flicker of movement out on the wing. Looking out the window, he saw a dark figure holding onto the wing of the plane, almost nonchalantly crouched on it, seemingly unconcerned about the fact the plane was moving through the air at hundreds of miles per hour and high above the surface of the Earth.
He did what any normal man would do in that situation. He sat there gaping for a minute. Even as he gathered in a breath to shout an alarm, the figure moved towards the edge of the wing, seemingly intent on looking far below.
Just as Wesley was considering a spell to dislodge the creature from the wing, where it was more than likely considering some mischief that would result in the death of everybody on the plane, the figure stood up and spread its bat-like wings, catching the air and being picked up off the plane's wing, flying out of sight.
Wesley looked down at the dragon sitting in his lap, where it was still fully entranced in the action movie. He let out a sigh, trying to ponder what kind of demon could handle the thinner atmosphere, high winds and could still hang onto the wing of a plane, without actually trying to kill the people on board. He paused for a moment, ensuring the spell of invisibility was still working on the little dragon before he made any commotion. After all, even the most relaxed customs agents, stewardesses, or passengers are going to notice a creature of myth being checked in.
He reached up above him and flicked a button, calmly speaking to the stewardess as she came up. "A glass of whiskey, please."
In less than an hour, with any luck, he'd be in Sunnydale.
Alleron glided down through the air, his wings out to their full span to slow his fall as he streaked down towards the familiar, and hated, presence below.
He wondered why Goral would be out in the middle of the desert, but the fact he could get to Goral without Ifrit standing right over him would make this an opportunity he could not pass up. Sure, he had to bail out of the plane before actually landing, which would make a few people at the Los Angeles airport scratch their heads, but this was far more important.
Before him, Goral was savagely attacking a werewolf. He had an enormous advantage over the other shapechanger from the look of it. Despite being almost a foot shorter, Goral seemed impervious to the other werewolf's attacks, his demonic armor enhancing his already powerful werewolf form.
'That's cheating, I think. This could be a little more dangerous than I anticipated.' He drew the demonic broadsword he had forged from the sheath at his hip, the blade immediately catching fire as it tasted the air, thirsting for blood. Goral stiffened upon feeling the magic, turning away from the bloodied and badly injured werewolf. Upon catching Alleron's appearance, flaming blade in hand, his glowing red eyes widened.
He let out a roar and crouched low, spreading his claws in challenge. It was customary for one Devil Knight to hurl a formal challenge in the demonic language when a fight is anticipated, but his current form wasn't capable of speech. Alleron sneered, not bothering to waste his breath as he looked at the werewolf Goral was fighting.
She seemed quite wounded, though the wounds were healing, a little slower than they should have been, but still sealing at a rate far greater than any human could hope for. Provided Goral wasn't allowed to continue his attack, she would recover. Silently, Alleron rose the burning blade in response to Goral's challenge, formally accepting it.
Goral leapt forward, his extremely unnatural body lending him a speed that was almost unobtainable to any other supernatural entity. He came at Alleron with all the skill a Devil Knight of the Third Rank should have, an elite soldier's kind of skill. Ruthless, focused entirely on the destruction of his enemy.
However, Alleron was a Knight of the First Rank, far above Goral's level. His techniques and abilities were as far above Goral's as Goral's was above a newly risen fledgling vampire's. It was the kind of difference one would draw from a fresh conscript of World War One against the best of the Marines.
Alleron simply stepped out of the way of Goral's attack, having anticipated such an opening move. He easily dodged back from another swipe of those deadly sharp claws, countering the massive frame of the demonized werewolf with a deep slash across the ribs.
Goral jumped back, howling in pain as one of those massive paws went to his chest, instinctively grasping the wound Alleron had so easily caused. Alleron crouched, holding the blade defensively, his eyes locked on Goral's own burning red ones. There was hatred, and fear there.
Good.
With a speed that tore up the desert floor, Alleron moved forward in a blur, his flaming sword creating a pattern around Goral as he ducked, wove, bobbed and struck with surgical precision, easily avoiding Goral's desperate counterattacks. Soon, large cauterized wounds appeared on Goral's immense frame, the abomination howling in torturous agony as the elder Devil Knight stuck again and again. Blood flowed from some of Goral's wounds, those caused so quickly that the fire of his sword could not burn them shut.
That blood stained the sand, the trickles growing far larger as with a contemptuous flourish, Alleron backed away from a desperate slam from Goral's claws and cut off both the werewolf's massive arms off with a single stroke.
The howl of agony was nearly ear-shattering as it cried out, falling to the desert floor with gasping breaths. Alleron looked over at Aura, the younger werewolf gathering her strength still and looking at him warily, but her condition much improved. He rose his flaming blade to Goral's throat, speaking into his lesser rival's mind with his own. "Tell me what you know, and I'll make it quick."
Too exhausted for anything else, Goral responded, and his words filled Alleron's heart with horror.
"Ifrit is going to Ascend tomorrow, and when he does, you and everything you ever wanted or cared about will be consigned to oblivion."
Ifrit watched, amused as the insane Drusilla danced in the sunlight, swirling about giggling happily at his gift. The Ring of Amara he had managed to teleport from some musty vault in England wasn't too difficult a chore, and his price, the path to Ascension, was more than worth it. Now he strode forwards towards the home of the Watcher. Drusilla's other price was inside.
He tilted his head slightly as he sensed two beings inside. One ordinary human, and one vampire of the type descended from Caine, a weak one. Well, strong for his age, but nonetheless he was weak compared to the one he had dispatched in the cellar of his church. He could not see what Drusilla wished with him, but such things were not his concern.
He lifted his hand and slammed it into the door, shattering it into a thousand pieces, along with a substantial chunk of the doorframe as well. Something as simple as a door could not even begin to handle the sheer amount of power Ifrit could channel.
The Watcher was in the living room, giving a start and recoiling as both Ifrit and Drusilla moved into the flat, Ifrit examining the surroundings with cold disdain, Drusilla smiling in a disconcerting way as she advanced upon Sandra.
It was into this very strange tableau that Xander entered the room, having been drawn by the sound of the exploding door, katana in hand. He looked quite battered, the sunburns having injured him rather painfully. Despite that, however, he held the katana steady, glaring at Drusilla and Ifrit. "Hey!" He exclaimed. "Drusilla, what the hell do you think you're doing in disturbing my beauty sleep?" He blinked a couple of times, trying to shake off his fatigue. "Wait, really, what the hell are you doing here?"
Drusilla just smiled at Xander, drifting towards him. Xander gave a start when she strode through the sunlight coming through the busted door as if it wasn't any danger, and backed away, sword held defensively. "What the hell?" He managed to say, just as Drusilla began humming a tune, staring into his eyes. Caught by the power of her will, he could only stare back, his body rigid. He fought against the influence, but this was one area Drusilla's insanity gave her an edge.
With a stagger and a sigh, Xander fell back, the katana falling out of his grip. While both Ifrit and Drusilla were distracted, Sandra made a run for one of the windows, intending to try and dive through it.
However, Ifrit moved with horrifying speed, grabbing Sandra's neck from behind and holding her aloft in the air. "Sorry, my dear, you're not going to get away quite that easily." He spoke, a mischievous smile playing across his lips. Without changing expression, Ifrit twisted his hand, breaking her neck in an instant. He dropped her corpse on the ground, turning his eyes to Drusilla's toy.
Xander was held still, unaware. Had he been aware and capable, he would already be moving to destroy Drusilla, but he couldn't move. He wasn't even aware of the sickening thud of Sandra's body as it fell limply to the ground. All he knew was Drusilla's eyes.
In the end, transporting Xander in the middle of the day was not difficult. Even the most flammable vampire won't burst into flame when he's been petrified, thanks to the magical manifesting abilities of the Devil Lord Ifrit.
Nor was the teleportation to the caves underground, where the Hellmouth was strongest, and thus the place where Ifrit could bring the most power to bear towards ripping his way through to the Heavens.
The one thing Ifrit did not count on, however, was in expending this energy with Alleron already in such close proximity, his actions told his son exactly where Ifrit's plans would come to fruition.
Thus, in the darkness of Sunnydale's sewers, two figures stalked towards their prey. One demonic, flaming blade in hand, casting flickering shadows along the walls. The second, lupine, golden eyes narrowed and mouth panting, doing her best not to breathe in the foulness of the sewers.
Knowing none of this, would Vanessa return to her flat, coming to a destroyed door, a dead Watcher, a missing vampire, and a devilish weapon in hand that was bringing out her most powerful, and most volatile, traits from the demonic spirit within her.
A cracking sensation woke Xander abruptly from the almost peaceful darkness of his entombment. A jarring wrench striking his side brought his awareness flooding back, instinctively crumpling to the floor in shattered bits of stone as Ifrit's fist roused him from his prison.
"Wakey wakey." Ifrit spoke, looking quite indifferently down upon Xander. Drusilla came into his view, a disconcerting smile on her face, as if she knew some sort of joke that she wasn't going to share with anybody.
Gathering whatever energy he could muster, Xander got to his feet in a blur and tried to back away from the pair. Faster than a billowing flame, Ifrit was there, suddenly pinning Xander to the wall by his throat.
Drusilla strode up, wagging her finger. "Bad, naughty kitten. You don't like Mummy much, do you sweetie? Miss Edith says you'll be fine, fine indeed. A true child of the night, strong and cunning for Mummy. Would you like that, kitten?"
Xander could only shake his head, slowly gathering his wits and managing to take in his surroundings. He was in some sort of chamber, for all intents and purposes a natural cavern, ordinary in almost every respect, save one.
In the exact center of the cavern was a glowing shaft of energy. It stood straight in the air, coming not from the floor but seemingly as if from nothing. The longer he stared at it, the more he could seemingly hear screams, not of one or a hundred or even a thousand people, but billions upon billions of voices, all raised in unimaginable pain inflicted for an infinite amount of time.
Somehow, in that moment, Xander could sense something else, something infinitely more horrifying if only because of its proximity. He could feel, in a sense he could never quite describe, that same feeling of agony from countless people in the flesh of the hand, holding him to the wall. He could only shudder in horrified revulsion, realizing all at once the actual nature of this being.
Drusilla grinned happily. "Isn't their music beautiful, kitten? Such harmonies, rising and falling, growing stronger each day!" She began to dance, swaying and giggling, to all those small, unheard-yet-not screams twisted into a hideous parody of a melody.
Ifrit casually slammed Xander against the wall, causing his bones to splinter under the assault. Xander felt his own blood in his mouth as he fell to the ground, helpless until his body had a chance to mend itself.
A sinking feeling came in the pit of his stomach as Drusilla swayed towards him, one of her nails cutting open one of her wrists as she knelt down before him. "It's time for you to join Mummy's family, kitten."
Desperately, Xander pushed his head to the side, trying to keep her from applying her wound to his mouth. She firmly took his jaw in hand, however, and forced her wrist to his mouth.
Like any vampire upon tasting blood when injured, he drank. It was foul, it tasted dead, horrible, but he drank.
And moments later, his vision faded, finding himself lying on a concrete floor in a familiar basement, faced by the worst demon of all his nightmares.
"Get up you worthless, lazy piece of shit!"
It wasn't Spike. It wasn't Angelus or Tzimisce Buffy or the Master or Principal Snyder, or even his evil twin with a beard.
It was his father, and Xander was looking up at him, as weak and helpless as a six-year old body.
At the same moment, in Xander's apartment, Allandra was busy cleaning the place in anticipation of Xander's return. She knew that to any outside observer, she would have looked very odd indeed, as her wings were out and unfurled, (the air felt very good!) wearing an apron and attacking the mess with a duster. She had a constant grin on her face, punctuated by giggles, at the mental image of herself prancing about the apartment in a maid's outfit. She wondered if it would give Xander some naughty ideas, and laughed to herself about it.
A knock at the door brought her play to a halt, as she paused and sighed, picking up her bathrobe and reluctantly tucking her wings down. She went to the door and opened it, glancing at her visitors. The first was a middle-aged human with a beard and glasses, and he seemed to stand with a kind of confidence that few people do.
The other was a fairly young blonde, who looked quite nervous, as if she wasn't expecting to see the striking, apparent elf answering the door.
"Listen, if you're a pair of Jehovah's Witnesses..." Allandra began to speak. Ever since they came through the Gate, quite a few newcomers had had to deal with religious types of one kind or another.
The man grinned, becoming a little more relaxed. "No, no, not at all, miss. I'm Wesley, this is Tara, we're old friends of Xander's. Is he here? I'm afraid we need to speak with him."
Tara nodded resolutely, if a little hesitantly. "Y-yes. It's important."
Allandra bit her lip, thinking for a moment. Xander hadn't mentioned these two, but that wasn't too much of a surprise. He hadn't mentioned too much about his past, considering he believed most of it long gone or dead (in some cases, undead.) She opened the door a little more widely, letting the pair in, prepared for any sort of treachery.
Alas, I must draw this part to a close here. Again, I apologize for the lateness of this update, and I do assure everyone who is reading this that I will finish this fic. After all, it's just one more part to go with any luck.
Take care, all.
Nick.