Whip 1/3
By Socrates
Disclaimer: All the usual. I own nothing but the idea for the story.
Summary: My take on the 'what if Xander dressed as something different for Halloween' Well, one of them anyway.
Rating: Pg-13
Category: Action/Adventure
Feedback: If you would be so kind…
******
"Hey, we were having a touching moment here!" Xander Harris spoke indignantly at the blonde girl. He watched her, his eyes full of sadness as she moved away from him, as if mesmerized, her eyes fixed on an elegant Victorian gown that hung on display.
He didn't kid himself, knew she was thinking of 'him', her dark warrior aka, 'the brooding one'. He sighed, his hand brushing his hair back from his face. might as well stop kidding myself..
Turning away from her, he started looking about the store. It wasn't for a reason really, his costume had already been selected, the army fatigues and dog tags lay on his rumpled covers even now.
There was a certain appeal to dressing up as a soldier, being someone else; someone strong, capable, all the things he wasn't. He couldn't say that the thought upset him really. He was used to it, after all this time.. No, it was more of an annoyance, like an itch that couldn't be scratched, an incessant reminder of the way things were. The way they had always been, and would always be. Xander Harris was a man who had had his entire life planned out for him since the moment he was born, and it was damned irritating.
Wandering away from the others, he found himself in the back part of the store, a section he had failed to notice before. Here there were an exotic and differing number of what appeared to be 'period' garments. It was clear that these garments weren't just for anybody. Not being someone familiar with clothing manufacturing he couldn't say for certain, but something about these outfits just screamed something 'more'. Finely stitched, expensive looking, seeming almost out of place in this store.
In the midst of perusing the various costumes, his eye caught a glint of something metallic and silvery. Curious, he turned to examine the source, and found himself awestruck. The outfit that was displayed before him was impressive, to say the least. A long, dark blue Victorian era leathery coat that would reach almost to a persons feet, trimmed, with the rigid collar pointing out and to the sides, a vest, slightly darker shade of blue with white shirt underneath, matching set of pants that also appeared to be made of leather, black long boots rounding out the ensemble. A silver cross necklace the hung from the neck, definitely gothic in design, with a red ruby in the centerpiece. A larger silver cross sat in a sheath at the belt. And last, but by no means least, a long chain whip that hung at the side.
"Wow." Xander muttered, at a loss for words, his eyes wide as saucers, the dark pools within fixed on the garment before him.
"Ah, I see that you have found it." A voice spoke up from behind him, soft and yet gravely at the same time, with something that made Xander's hair stand on end. Shocked from his trance, he turned to regard the owner of the shop, a Mr. Ethan, something or other. He nodded dumbly, "It's nice."
Ethan scowled at him, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "My dear boy, that outfit is much more then merely nice." His voice took on a different quality, one of reminisce. " It belonged to a great hunter, of vampires, werewolves, and all demon kin."
The dark haired boy gasped, then managed to compose himself "Everyone knows there are no such things as vampire." he spouted the tired party line.
Ethan merely smiled at him, the expression on his face belying the gesture, the way a cat might smile at a mouse it was just about to pounce on and rip to shreds. "Of course." he agreed, but the tone of his voice suggested something else. "In any case, from the moment you walked into my store I KNEW that this outfit would be perfect for you."
"It's nice." Xander repeated, "But I've already picked a costume."
"Ah, yes." The shopkeeper droned, "The soldier."
Chocolate brown orbs flicked upward in surprise How did he….?
As if sensing the boys thoughts, the other man added "You bought the toy gun from me. It wasn't hard to determine what look you were going for."
Satisfied with the answer, or at least reasonably so, Xander nodded. "My boy "Ethan continued, barely missing a beat, "Would you rather dress up as some regular G.I. Joe, or as a great warrior against evil?"
Hmm, he has a point. Xander pondered to himself. After a few moments, he nodded again. "Okay, you sold me. But It doesn't really matter, because there's No way I could afford that." He pointed at the outfit.
"Now, now, money is not an issue." The older man countered. "I'm not in this business to make money, merely to assure that the young people get the costume best suited to them, to help make this night as special for them as it can be."
Somewhat suspicious at the mans generosity, but feeling an intense desire to possess the costume, if only for Halloween, Xander accepted the offer for what it was. "Alright, I'll take it."
The smile on Ethan's face grew several sizes, now akin to a vampire who had just captured his prey "Excellent!"
Xander nodded mutely back and tried to suppress the feeling of dread creeping up his spine.
******
Halloween night came, as it always had and likely always would. The decades old ceremony began, with eager younglings dressed in various exaggerated attire, dashes of makeup applied here or there to complete the look, plastic bags or orange pumpkin-shaped buckets clasped loosely in their tiny hands. Parents watched with pride and just a touch of uncertainty, remembering their own dalliances with the revered art.
Groups comprised of tiny witches, vampires and any number of bogeymen crowded the streets, skittering from house to hideously over or under-decorated house, braving the night in search of nourishment, of a sort.
Xander Harris watched the entire scene and felt not the least bit nostalgic. Halloween held no special meaning to him, no fond childhood memories. Not that he could complain of course, as they weren't any bad memories of the season. No, just another time to be treated as a non-entity by his parents, to scurry off to his room and hope they forgot about him whilst drowning their sorrows. And their was that itch again, so annoying; as if his past was nothing more then some ill-conceived and lazily plotted piece from some wannabe writer, hurriedly scrawling the words an a battered notebook whilst cackling to himself in the darkened quiet of his apartment and telling himself over and over how 'brilliant' he was.
There were times, he admitted grudgingly to himself, that his life did indeed feel like some novel. Or to be more accurate, it felt like he was a character in a story centered around Buffy, and perhaps Willow and Giles, and even Deadboy. And that he was merely added as an afterthought, doomed to serve the singular purpose of lighting the otherwise grim proceedings with a bit of so called 'humanity'. In which case his past had been added to make the whole thing so damned ironic.
Such thoughts are of no positive influence. his inner voice chided him. And Xander found himself once again annoyed by the fact that it spoke with such a level of quality, as if everything he had ever learned slipped right through his conscious mind into his subconscious. Despite the annoyance, Xander realized that the voice was right. In any case, he was late meeting up with Buffy and Willow. They would be getting just about ready to leave the school by now. He had best hurry.
He decided to cut through the cemetery, or one of them, as there were ever so many in this town. Buffy he knew would scold him severely if she knew, prattling on about his lack of strength, skill, or even coordination. It didn't matter though. He was not quite as bumbling as they believed, or rather as HE had led them to believe. Neither was he an accomplished fighter by any means, but he could handle himself well enough.
His footfalls on the soft grass sounded quietly as he sped along, dodging expertly between rows of crumbling tombstones. His association with the slayer meant that he had knowledge of the cemeteries and their layout that would rival even that of a gravedigger. A grim thought indeed, but not near as grim as the realization that he recognized many of the names scrawled on the newer pieces of stone. Several of them had been schoolmates, some he had watched as their flesh was newly awakened, only to be scattered to the winds moments later. Ashes to ashes…
Just rounding the large groupings of graves situated near the center of the cemetery, he was overtaken by an intense wave of nausea. Blinding pain ripped through him like a white-hot blade and he crumpled, felt himself slipping away…
*******
Seconds or perhaps minutes later, he couldn't be sure, he arose and surveyed his surroundings in curiosity, dark eyes searching the area for any sign of familiarity. A cemetery to be sure, but not the right one…
His gloved hand reached automatically for the weapon at his side, hands ghosting over the wrapped chain, soft as a lovers touch. He sighed, relieved that, wherever he was, he wasn't alone.
That statement of course proved to be more true then he thought as figures became visible through the mist that seemed to have pervaded the entire area. He recognized them almost immediately, knew them for what they were. A smile played briefly over his lips, feeling strangely comforted by the all too familiar image before him.
Whenever, wherever, there would always be this, always be them.
Standing stock still he waited patiently for them to approach, hands resting at his sides.
As they closed the distance, one of them, who he assumed was the leader, stepped forward. He wasn't particularly imposing, as it went. But the still warrior knew without a doubt that he was capable of tearing a persons head clean off their shoulders. Any one of them could, and without a great deal of effort. Still, he stood, unafraid.
The vampire stepped up to him, a sinister smile plastered to his face, fangs flashing briefly when a bit of moonlight broke through the mist.
"You're in the wrong place at the wrong time, friend." the demon announced, his tone casual, as if he had just advised someone not to step on the grass. The men behind him chuckled briefly.
"I suppose I am." the man offered, sounding not the least bit repentant.
Sensing this, the vampire leader glared anew. 'Time to die."
"Yes, it is."
Growling in anger, the demon charged. His prey simply stood there, unmoving, not offering his own attack or defense. At the last second though, just as the demon was within arms reached, the warrior reacted. Reaching out with lighting reflexes and speed, though not superhumanly so, he grasped the demon strongly by the forearm, swiveled his hip to bring him about, and twist sharply upward. The sound of breaking bone could be heard, but no sooner had the vampire opened his mouth to scream , the air was forced from his lungs in a powerful blow, followed by another, each coming quicker then the last. After a final blow the warrior stopped and stepped back quickly, satisfied with his work. The wounded demon stared back at him, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. Not even feeling the pain in his chest he turned back to his group, his eyes imploring an explanation.
Too shocked was he too notice as his body crumbled into dust.
The warrior simply stood watching, hands once again at his sides, the hind of a wooden blade visibly peering out from the knuckles of his gloved hand.
The other vampires stared, slack jawed at what had just transpired. Almost quicker then they could follow, their leader had been reduced to dust in the wind, by a man with no more speed or strength then any other.
The shock soon faded though and they roared in outrage at their leaders executioner. As one they charged, intent on ripping this human to pieces. And once again the man stood still, simply awaiting their approach.
This time, as the last, he shot into action as soon as the attack reached him, never striking himself but always reacting swiftly to any attempted blow. He moved fluidly, with the grace of someone trained for a lifetime in the deadly arts The style was a variant of Aikido, modified to be more effective when battling opponents of superior strength and/or speed. Always an attacked force was brought back against him, leaving the defender free to set himself and counter any assault.
In the midst of the melee, limbs whirled, silver flashed and the numbers quickly grew smaller and smaller still, until he found himself standing in a cloud of blackish dust, his weapon glove-stake coated in it. Just like that he dropped the defensive stance, resuming his previous casual posture, allowing himself a small smile. Didn't even use the whip. Father would be proud.
He brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over his face, securing them in the ponytail,. Victor Bellemont started off, intent on finding where he was and if this land secreted his quarry. Then the age old dance would begin.
Across town, Buffy and Willow were having their own set of problems to deal with.
End part 1
Authors note: I have one or two more parts planned for this chapter, so to speak. Then, assuming people like this, the story will start again a bit in the future. Let me know if you like it.
By Socrates
Disclaimer: All the usual. I own nothing but the idea for the story.
Summary: My take on the 'what if Xander dressed as something different for Halloween' Well, one of them anyway.
Rating: Pg-13
Category: Action/Adventure
Feedback: If you would be so kind…
******
"Hey, we were having a touching moment here!" Xander Harris spoke indignantly at the blonde girl. He watched her, his eyes full of sadness as she moved away from him, as if mesmerized, her eyes fixed on an elegant Victorian gown that hung on display.
He didn't kid himself, knew she was thinking of 'him', her dark warrior aka, 'the brooding one'. He sighed, his hand brushing his hair back from his face. might as well stop kidding myself..
Turning away from her, he started looking about the store. It wasn't for a reason really, his costume had already been selected, the army fatigues and dog tags lay on his rumpled covers even now.
There was a certain appeal to dressing up as a soldier, being someone else; someone strong, capable, all the things he wasn't. He couldn't say that the thought upset him really. He was used to it, after all this time.. No, it was more of an annoyance, like an itch that couldn't be scratched, an incessant reminder of the way things were. The way they had always been, and would always be. Xander Harris was a man who had had his entire life planned out for him since the moment he was born, and it was damned irritating.
Wandering away from the others, he found himself in the back part of the store, a section he had failed to notice before. Here there were an exotic and differing number of what appeared to be 'period' garments. It was clear that these garments weren't just for anybody. Not being someone familiar with clothing manufacturing he couldn't say for certain, but something about these outfits just screamed something 'more'. Finely stitched, expensive looking, seeming almost out of place in this store.
In the midst of perusing the various costumes, his eye caught a glint of something metallic and silvery. Curious, he turned to examine the source, and found himself awestruck. The outfit that was displayed before him was impressive, to say the least. A long, dark blue Victorian era leathery coat that would reach almost to a persons feet, trimmed, with the rigid collar pointing out and to the sides, a vest, slightly darker shade of blue with white shirt underneath, matching set of pants that also appeared to be made of leather, black long boots rounding out the ensemble. A silver cross necklace the hung from the neck, definitely gothic in design, with a red ruby in the centerpiece. A larger silver cross sat in a sheath at the belt. And last, but by no means least, a long chain whip that hung at the side.
"Wow." Xander muttered, at a loss for words, his eyes wide as saucers, the dark pools within fixed on the garment before him.
"Ah, I see that you have found it." A voice spoke up from behind him, soft and yet gravely at the same time, with something that made Xander's hair stand on end. Shocked from his trance, he turned to regard the owner of the shop, a Mr. Ethan, something or other. He nodded dumbly, "It's nice."
Ethan scowled at him, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "My dear boy, that outfit is much more then merely nice." His voice took on a different quality, one of reminisce. " It belonged to a great hunter, of vampires, werewolves, and all demon kin."
The dark haired boy gasped, then managed to compose himself "Everyone knows there are no such things as vampire." he spouted the tired party line.
Ethan merely smiled at him, the expression on his face belying the gesture, the way a cat might smile at a mouse it was just about to pounce on and rip to shreds. "Of course." he agreed, but the tone of his voice suggested something else. "In any case, from the moment you walked into my store I KNEW that this outfit would be perfect for you."
"It's nice." Xander repeated, "But I've already picked a costume."
"Ah, yes." The shopkeeper droned, "The soldier."
Chocolate brown orbs flicked upward in surprise How did he….?
As if sensing the boys thoughts, the other man added "You bought the toy gun from me. It wasn't hard to determine what look you were going for."
Satisfied with the answer, or at least reasonably so, Xander nodded. "My boy "Ethan continued, barely missing a beat, "Would you rather dress up as some regular G.I. Joe, or as a great warrior against evil?"
Hmm, he has a point. Xander pondered to himself. After a few moments, he nodded again. "Okay, you sold me. But It doesn't really matter, because there's No way I could afford that." He pointed at the outfit.
"Now, now, money is not an issue." The older man countered. "I'm not in this business to make money, merely to assure that the young people get the costume best suited to them, to help make this night as special for them as it can be."
Somewhat suspicious at the mans generosity, but feeling an intense desire to possess the costume, if only for Halloween, Xander accepted the offer for what it was. "Alright, I'll take it."
The smile on Ethan's face grew several sizes, now akin to a vampire who had just captured his prey "Excellent!"
Xander nodded mutely back and tried to suppress the feeling of dread creeping up his spine.
******
Halloween night came, as it always had and likely always would. The decades old ceremony began, with eager younglings dressed in various exaggerated attire, dashes of makeup applied here or there to complete the look, plastic bags or orange pumpkin-shaped buckets clasped loosely in their tiny hands. Parents watched with pride and just a touch of uncertainty, remembering their own dalliances with the revered art.
Groups comprised of tiny witches, vampires and any number of bogeymen crowded the streets, skittering from house to hideously over or under-decorated house, braving the night in search of nourishment, of a sort.
Xander Harris watched the entire scene and felt not the least bit nostalgic. Halloween held no special meaning to him, no fond childhood memories. Not that he could complain of course, as they weren't any bad memories of the season. No, just another time to be treated as a non-entity by his parents, to scurry off to his room and hope they forgot about him whilst drowning their sorrows. And their was that itch again, so annoying; as if his past was nothing more then some ill-conceived and lazily plotted piece from some wannabe writer, hurriedly scrawling the words an a battered notebook whilst cackling to himself in the darkened quiet of his apartment and telling himself over and over how 'brilliant' he was.
There were times, he admitted grudgingly to himself, that his life did indeed feel like some novel. Or to be more accurate, it felt like he was a character in a story centered around Buffy, and perhaps Willow and Giles, and even Deadboy. And that he was merely added as an afterthought, doomed to serve the singular purpose of lighting the otherwise grim proceedings with a bit of so called 'humanity'. In which case his past had been added to make the whole thing so damned ironic.
Such thoughts are of no positive influence. his inner voice chided him. And Xander found himself once again annoyed by the fact that it spoke with such a level of quality, as if everything he had ever learned slipped right through his conscious mind into his subconscious. Despite the annoyance, Xander realized that the voice was right. In any case, he was late meeting up with Buffy and Willow. They would be getting just about ready to leave the school by now. He had best hurry.
He decided to cut through the cemetery, or one of them, as there were ever so many in this town. Buffy he knew would scold him severely if she knew, prattling on about his lack of strength, skill, or even coordination. It didn't matter though. He was not quite as bumbling as they believed, or rather as HE had led them to believe. Neither was he an accomplished fighter by any means, but he could handle himself well enough.
His footfalls on the soft grass sounded quietly as he sped along, dodging expertly between rows of crumbling tombstones. His association with the slayer meant that he had knowledge of the cemeteries and their layout that would rival even that of a gravedigger. A grim thought indeed, but not near as grim as the realization that he recognized many of the names scrawled on the newer pieces of stone. Several of them had been schoolmates, some he had watched as their flesh was newly awakened, only to be scattered to the winds moments later. Ashes to ashes…
Just rounding the large groupings of graves situated near the center of the cemetery, he was overtaken by an intense wave of nausea. Blinding pain ripped through him like a white-hot blade and he crumpled, felt himself slipping away…
*******
Seconds or perhaps minutes later, he couldn't be sure, he arose and surveyed his surroundings in curiosity, dark eyes searching the area for any sign of familiarity. A cemetery to be sure, but not the right one…
His gloved hand reached automatically for the weapon at his side, hands ghosting over the wrapped chain, soft as a lovers touch. He sighed, relieved that, wherever he was, he wasn't alone.
That statement of course proved to be more true then he thought as figures became visible through the mist that seemed to have pervaded the entire area. He recognized them almost immediately, knew them for what they were. A smile played briefly over his lips, feeling strangely comforted by the all too familiar image before him.
Whenever, wherever, there would always be this, always be them.
Standing stock still he waited patiently for them to approach, hands resting at his sides.
As they closed the distance, one of them, who he assumed was the leader, stepped forward. He wasn't particularly imposing, as it went. But the still warrior knew without a doubt that he was capable of tearing a persons head clean off their shoulders. Any one of them could, and without a great deal of effort. Still, he stood, unafraid.
The vampire stepped up to him, a sinister smile plastered to his face, fangs flashing briefly when a bit of moonlight broke through the mist.
"You're in the wrong place at the wrong time, friend." the demon announced, his tone casual, as if he had just advised someone not to step on the grass. The men behind him chuckled briefly.
"I suppose I am." the man offered, sounding not the least bit repentant.
Sensing this, the vampire leader glared anew. 'Time to die."
"Yes, it is."
Growling in anger, the demon charged. His prey simply stood there, unmoving, not offering his own attack or defense. At the last second though, just as the demon was within arms reached, the warrior reacted. Reaching out with lighting reflexes and speed, though not superhumanly so, he grasped the demon strongly by the forearm, swiveled his hip to bring him about, and twist sharply upward. The sound of breaking bone could be heard, but no sooner had the vampire opened his mouth to scream , the air was forced from his lungs in a powerful blow, followed by another, each coming quicker then the last. After a final blow the warrior stopped and stepped back quickly, satisfied with his work. The wounded demon stared back at him, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. Not even feeling the pain in his chest he turned back to his group, his eyes imploring an explanation.
Too shocked was he too notice as his body crumbled into dust.
The warrior simply stood watching, hands once again at his sides, the hind of a wooden blade visibly peering out from the knuckles of his gloved hand.
The other vampires stared, slack jawed at what had just transpired. Almost quicker then they could follow, their leader had been reduced to dust in the wind, by a man with no more speed or strength then any other.
The shock soon faded though and they roared in outrage at their leaders executioner. As one they charged, intent on ripping this human to pieces. And once again the man stood still, simply awaiting their approach.
This time, as the last, he shot into action as soon as the attack reached him, never striking himself but always reacting swiftly to any attempted blow. He moved fluidly, with the grace of someone trained for a lifetime in the deadly arts The style was a variant of Aikido, modified to be more effective when battling opponents of superior strength and/or speed. Always an attacked force was brought back against him, leaving the defender free to set himself and counter any assault.
In the midst of the melee, limbs whirled, silver flashed and the numbers quickly grew smaller and smaller still, until he found himself standing in a cloud of blackish dust, his weapon glove-stake coated in it. Just like that he dropped the defensive stance, resuming his previous casual posture, allowing himself a small smile. Didn't even use the whip. Father would be proud.
He brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over his face, securing them in the ponytail,. Victor Bellemont started off, intent on finding where he was and if this land secreted his quarry. Then the age old dance would begin.
Across town, Buffy and Willow were having their own set of problems to deal with.
End part 1
Authors note: I have one or two more parts planned for this chapter, so to speak. Then, assuming people like this, the story will start again a bit in the future. Let me know if you like it.