First Note: Back from holidays. More fic coming. Part 18 of Sunnydale Jedi next, anyone?
The Final Fantasy X cross really begins here. From here on out, there will be short looks at the Buffyverse to see what's going on, but most of the time and text is going to focus on Xander and his experiences in a world he doesn't have a clue about. Please be aware that this is set during Braska's Pilgrimage, so I'm toying with it a bit: assume that the Guado are Yevonites, but that the Ronso are still resistant to the idea. And if you don't have a clue what either of those are, then it'll be revealed in the fic when appropriate.
I have been listening to entirely too much Dire Straits recently. I'd like to recommend their live album 'aLCHEMY'... it's very good.
-
The Slayer Army returned to Buffy's home silently, apart from the whimpers and moans of the injured Slayers in Training. Not one of them had come out of the fight without some sort of injury – if Turok'han happened across them now, there would be very little resistance to them. Faith favoured one leg, and cradled the opposite arm with the other while simultaneously trying to carry Kennedy, which was quite an achievement. Little whimpers were voiced by Kennedy each time Faith took a step. Buffy marched at the head imperiously, with Spike beside her and Rona over his shoulder, still unconscious.
Dawn saw them limping down the street out of the front window, and rushed out to help them with a few of the Slayers in Training who hadn't gone on the mission. Willow watched from the doorway, a dark silhouette against the light from the hall.
Dawn reached Faith, ignoring Buffy and Spike, and helped her get Kennedy down without hurting either of them further, "Oh my God, what happened!"
Faith knelt next to the unconscious Kennedy, "Don't ask." She put a finger to the girls' neck and felt a pulse, "She'll be OK. Just took a bit of a knock... hey, Red!"
Willow jogged over to where Faith was uncertainly. Faith scowled and addressed Dawn and Willow quietly enough so that Buffy and Spike, who were now in the house, couldn't hear her, "No matter what Buffy or Spike say about Xander, I think it's the First playing them. But..."
"Xander?" Dawn looked round, "where is he?"
Faith looked like she might throw up any second, "That's what I'm tryin' to tell you, Baby B... the First... has him. We lost so many: Chao-Ann, Molly... and Xander was caught by Caleb. Then the First shows up and starts mouthing off about how Xand's gonna be his 'Avatar'..."
"It... wha?" Willow's higher functions seemed to have shut down, "He's helped the First?"
Both Dawn and Faith shot Willow glares that would have melted steel. Dawn looked at Faith slowly, "He did say that the First was going on about that..."
"Yeah," Faith sighed. "Well, there's going to be nothing we can say that will persuade Her Royal Bitchiness or Dusty otherwise. I don't fancy leaving all these girls to the tender mercies of B and her pet stake-o-matic, so we just gotta keep our heads down and make sure that nothing worse happens."
Dawn nodded.
Willow was still staring into space, "I can't believe Xander would help the First..."
"He didn't Red!" Faith snapped, seriously tempted to try slapping some sense into the Wicca, "The First keeps visiting him, playing with his head just like he does with yours, and mine, and Dawn's... Hell, the fuckin' thing used this chance to start breaking up the only people who are fighting it!"
Willow looked down at the still unconscious Kennedy, "We'd better get her inside. Take her to my room."
"Gonna make her your love sl..." Dawn began, but was cut off as Faith's hand closed over her mouth.
"Dawn!"
Dawn looked sheepish, but helped Faith pick Kennedy up and carry her inside. Willow followed after several long moments of staring down the road in the direction of Buffy's vineyard.
-
The First had not left Xander alone since he was chained to the wall. This was for two reasons; the first was that it was simply too enjoyable to torment the man with insinuations of this, that and the other, or with the past itself. His reaction to seeing Angelus had been surprising, since it had been less violent than his reaction to Angel or Spike. The second reason was also quite simple: Caleb was dangerous to the Firsts' plans now. The preacher insisted on staying in the room, and as with all its servants, the First knew what he was thinking. Caleb was waiting for a chance to kill the One Who Sees.
And the First could not allow that.
Alexander Harris had a pivotal role to play in another world: a world where the First was not only corporeal, it had made a mark on the hearts, minds and souls of those it preyed upon – and its methods were particularly delicious.
The First was preparing to send him there. And Caleb, whether he knew it or not, would be helping.
And then... then came the piece de resistance.
"Caleb," The Firsts' voice was flat and angry, it wore a neutral form, unknown to either Xander or Caleb, "Come here."
Caleb stepped forward, and the First turned into the woman that he had known. She ran a hand down his arm, and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Get the altar ready for the sacrifice."
Caleb nodded, and moved toward a stone upthrust in the floor. The First had begun the preparations as soon as Buffy's Slayer army had left – now, all that was required was the relevant sacrifice.
The first Bringer lay on the stone, and Caleb plunged a knife into its chest and begun the messy process of removing its heart. He was obviously not a professional at things like that, as it took him longer than the First would have anticipated, with far too much blood sprayed about. Caleb looked round at the First after he pushed the now long dead Harbinger off. He looked like he had been bathing in blood. Xander closed his eyes, fighting his gag reflex to stop from vomiting at the sickly sweet smell that pervaded the room.
"Next the brain," the First ordered imperiously.
A second bringer lay on the altar now, and Caleb grunted as he drove the knife into its skull with a sickening cracking of bone.
"Careful!" the First snapped, "it must be as undamaged as possible!"
Caleb turned, "You said it had to be done with this blade, or it wouldn't work; it's damned near impossible to get through bone with this!" He waved the knife in the air, and Xander couldn't help but be reminded of Jack O'Toole so long ago. "Let me cut him up, please!"
The First drifted forward, getting dangerously close to Caleb, its voice was quiet and deadly when it replied, "No."
"Hey, Caleb," Xander's voice broke the impasse between the First and its servant, "you wouldn't happen to be related to Jack, would ya?"
The First shot Xander a confused look, but covered it up quickly. Caleb growled.
Xander continued his taunt, his head down so he couldn't see the room, "'Cause you got the routine down pat. 'Lemme cut him up...' Jeez... some originality, please."
Caleb opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the First as it morphed into Jesse, "Ah, I see what you are trying to do, Bro! You want me to let you off the hook by having ol' Cal here kill ya. Sorry to tell you, Bro, but that ain't gonna happen. You are going where I send you: you haven't got a choice in that."
Xander winced as Caleb returned to what he had been doing. The First still faced him, watching with a smile on Jesse's face.
After two more Harbingers died under Caleb's blade, it seemed to grow bored. "This is taking too long," it snapped.
"Doesn't look like Caleb can go any faster," Xander muttered, disgusted, "he's getting off on it too much."
The First snapped its fingers, and the Bringers converged in a circle around Caleb. "You are moving too slowly, love," it drawled as the woman only Caleb knew, "if you can't speed it up any more, I will be... oh, why not?"
The Bringers jerked and the First watched in satisfaction as small streams of coloured lights flowed from them. It reached back toward Xander, and gripped his hair, forcing one eye open with its thumb. "You will watch this, for it is a beautiful sight. It is a sight you will soon get to know – the colour of Death."
Xander grunted, and tried to turn his head away, but he was held rigid by more than just the Firsts hand.
"Life ends and Death is the result. Life strives to survive, and Death is the result. From Death, I am reborn in every age – unending... unkillable." The First smiled as Caleb looked over with a terrified look on his face. The swirls of colour grew in number, whirling round the altar faster and faster until the vortex lit the whole room. They zipped through Caleb as he stood, trapped, in the middle of the rapidly dying Harbingers. They swirled around the First and around Xander, blinding him.
"You have given your soul to me, Caleb, and for that I gave you power. Your time is at an end, however; a new age is beginning! Servant, I call for one last act of service from you..."
"Yes?"
The First smiled, "Give the Slayer her weapon. She will do the rest all on her own."
Caleb gasped as the First dissolved into the lights, which changed direction and begun to eddy around Xander. They got closer and closer, and Xander screamed as he was engulfed in them.
The Firsts' voice echoed around the cellar, even over Xander's screams. "Make sure not to make it too easy on her, my servant. Not that I think she would get suspicious; she fell for this did she not?"
When the lightshow died, Caleb was left staring at the empty shackles and the bare wall.
Then the seemingly dead Bringers, animated by their service to their unholy mistress, rose once more.
-
Two hours before dawn, the Temple in Bevelle was close to deserted. Two figures were walking down the Highbridge, with a third walking backwards a few paces in front of them, with a recording sphere held up as he panned it around, taking everything in. As it fell on the two men, one of them scowled at the recorder.
"What are you taking?" Auron had been one of the Warrior Monks at the Great Temple in Bevelle, until choosing to become a Guardian for Braska, a Summoner just beginning his Pilgrimage. Well, perhaps, 'choosing' wasn't quite the right word - he had become a Guardian to avoid the retribution of his ex-prospective-Father-in-law, who was a little miffed that one of his Warrior Monks had turned his daughter down. His voice was wary, with a rigidly serious undertone - but lacking the gruffness that it was acquire in the future.
Jecht, the man holding the recording sphere, looked at Auron with a scathing grimace. "Well, you said it was gonna be a long trip." He chuckled, "We'll be seeing a lot of neat things, right? So I thought I'd record it all in this. To show to my wife and kid, you know."
"This is no pleasure cruise!" Auron snapped, plainly aggravated, "This is a Pilgrimage to stop Sin!"
Jecht ignored Auron, like he had never heard the rebuke, "Hey, Braska. Ain't this supposed to be a grand occasion?" He waved a hand around the empty Highbridge, "Where're the cheering fans? The crying women? What happened to the grand fanfare of wishing a hero the best?"
"This is it," Braska smiled, "Too many goodbyes and people think twice about leaving." He looked sadly down toward the Temple. "Enough Pilgrimages end in failure already... if there was a great fanfare each time a Summoner left, it would result in... fewer Pilgrimages, as they came to realise what they left behind."
Jecht didn't look convinced, but shrugged, "Hmm... if you say so! You sure know more about this sort of thing than me. Hell, I don't even know how I got here!" Auron and Braska had found him earlier in the Pilgrimage, and after much mistrust and rather vehement disbelief, they begun to accept that he might well be what and who he said he was... although they still didn't believe where he said he came from. Jecht guffawed, "Well, it better be a lot more colourful when we come back. A parade for Braska: vanquisher of Sin!" His harsh voice rose to a near shout, and Auron sighed as Braska looked on in amusement. The two exchanged looks, but did not say anything further on the subject.
Smiling gently, Braska motioned ahead of them. "We should go. Day will break soon."
Jecht tucked the sphere away, and fell into step with Braska and Auron, "Yeah. Right. Wouldn't want to still be here when it gets light, and all..."
Braska chuckled softly, as Auron ground his teeth in frustration at his fellow Guardian's antics. The man really had no respect for Yevon! Even if he did know the Prayer!
-
When Xander came to, it was in a snowdrift with a rock poking him in the back.
And it was bloody cold, to boot.
When he opened his eyes, he rather wished he hadn't bothered; mostly because there was a blue furred demon with a broken horn looking down at him with a speculative look on its face. After the First Evil's various tricks, seeing his death as a chew toy wasn't quite such bad news as might be imagined, which stopped his almost automatic reaction, which would have been to crab backwards in an attempt to put as much distance between his blue furred sharp toothed death and himself as possible.
There was just one problem: it wasn't attacking.
Finally summoning up what remained of his courage, he muttered a nervous, "Hi."
"You are not fiend," the blue furred thing spoke cautiously, carefully forming the words. "Who are you?"
Xander was taken aback, "Um... you're not a demon, then?" He shook his head, "Good, that's good. Look, you wouldn't happen to have seen some incorporeal thing that can change form, would you? Only its trying, to, like, kill me. Or something."
"No," the thing shook its head. "Nothing you describe."
"Oh... damn," Xander sighed, "I was kinda hopin' that it could be persuaded to maybe send me home again, or something. Not that I'd survive too long there anyway..." He thought back to the murderous look in Buffy's eyes, and knew that she would not even bother to think if she ever saw him again. "Maybe it's for the best..." he paused, "what am I saying? The First sends me to some snow covered... with a... um... hang on, what are you exactly?"
The blue thing straightened, "Kimahri Ronso," it declared, crossing its arms over its chest, as if daring Xander to defy him.
"And is that what you are, or who you are?" Xander raised an eyebrow, "Well, I'm Xander. Xander Harris," he stuck out a hand, and then wondered about the wisdom of that, but not wanting to upset the seven foot tall Kimahri by withdrawing the hand, "pleased to meet you."
Kimahri looked at the hand, before extending one of his own. He took the offered hand cautiously, and pulled back in shock as Xander pumped his hand vigorously in greeting. The two stared at one another for a long moment, before Kimahri tentatively extended his hand again. This time, the Ronso's natural strength nearly removed Xander's shoulder from its socket as he copied what Xander had done during the handshake.
Kimahri grinned, showing all his teeth, as Xander staggered backwards clutching his shoulder, "Damn you're strong!"
"It is quiet," Kimahri announced, "we should go before fiends come."
Xander shivered suddenly, the cold finally penetrating through to him, "Uh, yeah right. Let's go."
They walked silently for a few minutes, before Xander reached out to tap the Ronso's arm, "Uh... can you tell me where I am? Despite my kinda flaky geography, I don't think I'm in California anymore."
"This Mount Gagazet," Kimahri announced, "sacred Ronso Mountain. Ronso tribe kill all who set foot on Mountain that not of Ronso tribe."
Xander absorbed this with stunning calm, "So... uh... how come you haven't killed me?"
Kimahri looked at him.
"Hey, I was just asking! Not that I want to die, you understand!"
Kimahri remained silent, looking back toward the path they were following.
-
A/N: I now have a healthy respect for those writers who have focussed on Kimahri as a character in their fics. He's a tough nut to get through - and very difficult to write in a style that I am happy with. The general formula might be "Third Person + Little Speech Kimahri" but writing this, I found it isn't quite that simple...
Reviewing would feed the muse. Feeding the muse is good - trust me on this.