Scarlet Letter
Part 11
As he drove up the moonlit street, Spike took a final look at the page he'd torn out of the phone book. Satisfied that he'd found the correct address, he pulled the stolen Honda up to the front of the apartment complex and killed the engine. He snuffed his cigarette out on the dashboard and arranged the female corpse slumped in the passenger seat to look less obviously dead before hopping out of the car.
Spike thumbed the trunk release button on the key chain, and it popped open with a soft hiss. Nestled between a length of jumper cable and the back wheel-well lay Xander, semi-conscious and swathed in a bloody, moth-eaten blanket.
"C'mon, kid. Let's go!" Spike hefted the limp, unresisting boy over his shoulder.
"What do you say? Are you ready to go home?"
"Unh...get m-me the hell out of here," mumbled Xander, unsure whether he was speaking aloud or reliving a bad dream. Why was he so cold? He felt like he'd been inside a meat locker instead of the back of a car. His teeth clicked together with every shiver, and for the first time he found himself missing the damnable heat of his curse.
...so tired, but I can't fall asleep, have to tell them...
"You'd better pray the Watcher is home, or I'm leaving you on his lawn where any beastie can find you for a nibble."
SHLUMP
The thud of the trunk lid slamming shut startled Xander. That sound shouldn't be terrifying, should it? Xander blinked and forced himself to focus on what was going on. He peered down at the chain dangling from the manacle clamped around his wrist. His eyes followed the chain to the end, where an empty cuff smeared gore on Spike's jeans with every step.
Xander gasped and held up his left arm where he could see it, his heart screeching to a halt when he realized it was much shorter than it had any right to be. His truncated wrist glowed and sparked like a live electrical wire as the wound struggled to heal itself, the tingling sensation more intense than he had ever felt before.
"No! It's gone!" he cried hoarsely. "It's gone! It's gone!"
"Christ, you're not gonna start whinin' about that, are you? I gave you a choice, y' know. Too late to change your mind."
"Wh-where is it? Guh...I think I drop...dropped it...g-go back!"
"Ugh! Don't be daft!" Spike lugged him across the small courtyard to a rusty, clover-patterned door and rang the bell. He fidgeted impatiently, shifting Xander into a more comfortable position over his shoulder.
"It's not like you can screw the bloody thing back on," he muttered.
"Fuck you! Have to f-find it!" Xander struggled feebly against Spike's grip. "It's mine! I w-won't...I won't let Angel get any part of me!"
Spike laughed at that. "Don't fret, my little meal ticket. If things go according to plan, you won't belong to him for much longer." Spike pressed the doorbell again and held it in, producing a sustained buzz. Seconds later Giles threw open the door.
"Let. Him. Go." Giles leveled a crossbow at Spike, his normally gentle voice as hard as steel. Even from his upside down vantage point, Xander could see that things were a little off with Giles. For once he wasn't looking particularly starched, crisp and clean. The Watcher's face was covered in grey stubble, and his suit was rumpled like he'd worn it for days.
Spike shrugged. "Whatever you say, mate." He moved to the right, let Xander fall to the ground with a painful thud, and then quickly pinned his captive's head under his boot. Giles readjusted his aim and fired the weapon, but was no match for Spike's vampire reflexes; the bolt passed harmlessly by him.
"Put that stupid thing away or I'll pop his skull like a balloon! I'm not here to fight. If I was, do you think I'd bother ringing the soddin' bell?"
Jammed against the dusty concrete, Xander's abused jaw started to throb again. But what was one more bruise? Let Spike act the tough guy. Xander had endured much, much worse and could care less if he got a little more banged up when there were more important things to worry about.
"G-Giles, chill. You know there isn't anything he can do to kill me. Please, get Buffy...she has to help Cordelia! Angel and Drusilla are g-going after her tonight - argh!"
Spike stomped down harder, and brand new tingles sprang up along Xander's scalp. He groaned, wishing they were the kind from a medicated dandruff shampoo. Xander had learned over the last few days that sometimes his healing factor felt worse than the wounds themselves. Case in point: his mutilated arm felt like he'd stuck it against an electric fence. He winced and tried to keep it hidden under the filthy blanket.
What happens now? Can my body heal something this bad? What if...no. Don't think about it. Forget about the stupid pain. It doesn't matter. If it means saving Cordelia and getting away from Dead Boy, I'd do it all over again. Whatever it takes.
"Stop it! Leave him alone!" Willow peeked out from behind Giles and tried to rush outside, but he held her back before she could cross the threshold.
"Will, I'm fine, but Cordelia...the whole cheerleading squad...they're going to kill them!"
"Now, now. Don't go changing the subject on me, kiddo. We're not here to talk about the Prom Queen, we're here to barter for your freedom." Spike smirked and looked back at Giles. "I have somethin' you might want, Watcher. Sharp silver thing, 'bout yay big, ruby in the handle. Sound familiar?"
Giles's brow twitched and the corners of his lips drew back at the mention of the tattoo needle; Xander made a mental note to tell him he really needed to work on his poker face.
"Aha. I had a feeling that little doodad would come in handy! I pinched it from Angelus and stashed it in a very secure place. If you ever want to lay your hands on it, you'll stop your pathetic posturing and toss the weapon outside. Then we can discuss business like civilized men."
"Civilized men don't traffic in naked teenaged boys." Giles glared at Spike but reluctantly slid the crossbow into the courtyard. "What do you want from us? Why are you here?"
"Giles, what is he talking about? What doodad? Is it..."
"Not now, Willow," Giles interrupted curtly. "Contact Cordelia. Tell her what's going on, that she must find a safe place and stay there until help arrives."
Willow shared a look with Xander. It was killing her to be so close but unable to help him. He knew that no matter how many new people entered their lives, a part of Willow would always love him in a way that went way beyond simple friendship. Although she was, to put it mildly, less than fond of his relationship with Cordelia, all lingering bitterness melted away in an instant when she saw the concern in Xander's eyes.
"Please, Will...hurry."
"I have her cell phone number. I'll find her, I promise." She did a quick about face and ran back into the living room.
Satisfied that action was being taken to save Cordelia, Xander slumped across the porch. Not moving was the only thing he could accomplish at the moment anyway. He'd lost so much blood he was beginning to feel like an old tube of toothpaste; squeezed and folded until almost empty. And Spike's foot in his ear certainly wasn't making that squished, hollow feeling go away any faster.
"I've done as you asked. Tell me what you want!" Giles demanded.
Spike grinned and tapped a cigarette out of the pack of Morleys he'd pulled from his coat pocket. "I want the same thing you do! I want to make sure the Slayer is free to destroy the big bad vampire who preys on all her friends. I want to see the good guys win, justice served, and everyone live happily ever after." He cupped his hand around his cigarette to protect it from the breeze as he lit up. "Well, except Angelus, of course."
Giles snorted and crossed his arms. "And the non-facetious answer would be...?"
"I told you, I want what you want: Angelus dead, and me and Dru out of this miserable town forever. Interested?" Giles dropped his arms and immediately became more receptive. "Here's the deal, which is not open for negotiation. One, you make your Slayer get off her bum and stake the bastard. Short of paintin' a target on his chest, I'll even make it as easy as possible for her to kill him. Two, Dru never finds out about our arrangement. Word leaks out to her or Angelus, and the whole thing's off. Three, once the deed is done I'll give you the magical silver doodad and then Dru and I will be on our merry way - with no interference from any of you."
"Since you want Buffy to perform your dirty work for you, can I assume you'd like her to book your travel arrangements as well? I hear Antarctica is lovely this time of year."
"Ho, ho. Look, I don't have time to stay for tea and scones. If this plan is going to work, I have to cover my tracks and make it look like a hungry demon stole the pomme. Can you handle your Slayer or not?"
"How do I know you'll actually give us the needle? When a pomme's master perishes, the counter-spell must be performed within a few hours or he'll succumb to the curse. I'm not willing to risk losing Xander!"
"Fool. You lost him the moment Angelus laid claim to him. This is the only chance you have to get him back."
Spike's boot wasn't the only thing making Xander's head spin. Angelus, Cordelia, the loss of his hand...Xander had far too many things to worry about and he wished the emotional Tilt-A-Whirl his life had become would slow down so he could sort everything out. Startled by an excited little noise in the background, Xander strained his neck to see Willow in the hallway talking on the phone.
"...what? No, I don't think Xander will care whether you wear the green or the blue skirt to see him. No, the blue one does not make you look hippy...oh, for goodness sakes! Cordelia! We're having a life in peril moment here! Stop fussing over your ensemble and focus!"
"Oh, man, Cordy! She's okay! Let me go, dammit!" Xander squirmed under Spike's boot.
Spike dug his boot into Xander's jawline. "What's it gonna be, Watcher?"
"You plan to betray both Angelus and the woman you profess to love. If this is how you treat your allies, why should I trust you?"
With an irritated grunt, Spike flicked an ash towards Giles. "I brought you the boy, didn't I? Didn't have to do that. Could've stood by and let him suffer while Angelus had another go at him." Spike exhaled a long stream of smoke, his eyes glistening in the darkness. "C'mon, Watcher. Work with me. You couldn't protect your lover from Angelus, but you can still save..."
Suddenly someone swung down from the porch roof in a wide sweeping arc and kicked Spike, slamming the vampire into the side of the building. Seconds later Spike was pinned on his back with a stake poised above his heart.
"Slayer! I was wonderin' when you'd show your pretty face."
"Spike, it is so incredibly not good to see you. You have exactly 15 seconds to explain why you're playing soccer with my friend's head or I'm dust busting your ashes off the porch. 15...14..."
"Buffy, don't!" shouted Giles.
"What?"
"You'd best listen to the old man. Would you really stake the guy who rescued poor Xander here?"
"You? Spike? Rescued Xander? Why am I finding that hard to believe? Could it be because you're the one he needs to be rescued from?" Buffy punched him in the chin. "Look at him! He's covered in fang marks, and I don't see any other blood-sucking creeps around!"
"Buffy, stop it..."
She ignored Giles and punched the vampire again. Spike merely laughed and licked the blood from his split lip. For someone seemingly seconds away from being the newest notch on the Slayer's stake, Spike acted very much like he was the one in control of the situation.
"Sure, take it out on me. I may have been a little rough on the kid..."
"A LITTLE ROUGH?" groaned Xander.
"...but we both know it was your boyfriend who put the major hurt on him, not me. The truth is I *saved* him from Angelus. If you don't believe me, ask him yourself."
Buffy looked doubtful. "Did Spike really help you escape?"
Xander gulped. "Y-yeah, you could say that, although his idea of a heroic rescue leaves a lot to be desired." Remembering it all made Xander feel incredibly stupid for going along with Spike. What would they all think? Buffy would have figured out a less extreme way to free him, but he hadn't had time to wait any longer.
Gosh, who needs Buffy when I've got good old Uncle Spikey and his no-frills alternative to a lock pick?
It sickened Xander to remember the meaty "shlump" as Spike's machete cleaved through him separating his hand from his body. Xander had come to know that physical pain was transitory, but that sound would haunt him forever. It happened so fast, he'd barely had time to register the pain before he'd started gushing blood like a busted fire hydrant.
Xander remembered how he collapsed against Spike, his vision bleeding into crimson as the vampire yanked the chain through the iron ring mounted on the wall. The loose end slipped easily through the ring and clattered to the floor.
Xander had stared in horrified silence while his blood splashed his orphaned hand lying a few feet away. He wanted to scream, but doing so would somehow validate that what had happened was real. Not a nightmare, not one of Drusilla's Jedi mind fucks. He wished he could pretend he hadn't agreed to this hideous desecration, but the truth was right in front of him: four fingers and a thumb that that would never feel anything again.
Never whittle stakes for Buffy, never play Parcheesi with Willow, never touch the sweet spot on Cordelia's shoulder
His hand sat there unmoving, lifeless...chilling proof that there was nothing the vampires wouldn't take from him. Although Spike held the traumatized boy in his arms, he offered no comfort in the embrace. Xander closed his eyes and tried not to gag as Spike lapped the spurting blood from his stump with obscene thoroughness. During his slow slide into unconsciousness, he heard what Spike said to him.
"Couldn't let any of that go to waste now, could we? Oh, you are so very tasty, love. Every vamp's champagne wish and caviar dream. I'm almost tempted to keep you all to myself. Almost."
"See! Told ya, Slayer. I believe a sincere apology is in order."
Xander cringed when he felt another painful surge travel down his arm. He laughed bitterly at the irony. To escape the humiliation of being treated like a piece of meat, he'd allowed himself to be butchered.
"Xander? You're in a terrible state. You must come inside and let us tend to you. Can you move?"
"Don't think so. M'so cold, Giles. So cold, I-I can't even feel my fingers." When Xander realized what he'd said, he laughed again, cradling his arm to his chest. "Hear that? Can't feel my fingers, you son of a bitch!"
"Smart ass. Sure you guys want him back? Cos if you don't want him, I could make a mint selling a bona fide blood-apple to - oof!" Buffy knocked Spike's head against the ground so hard Xander thought he heard the concrete crack.
"Ow! Damn you, that's going to leave a lump!" Spike coiled his legs and with both feet kicked Buffy across the porch. He bounded to his feet and assumed a fighting stance. "Giles, no more bullshit. Tell your Slayer to stand down or tomorrow some lucky girl is going to wake up to find herself the new Chosen One!"
"Buffy, that's enough. As long as Spike controls the means to Xander's cure, we need him alive."
"A cure? He can help you?" She looked back at Xander, brushing stray locks of hair out of her eyes while a hopeful smile emerged on her face. Even dressed in baggy sweat pants with her hair swept up on top of her head in a messy twist, Xander thought she'd never looked more beautiful.
"Do you want to know what it's like, making love to Buffy?" Angelus breathed into his ear. "Would you like me to show you?"
He shuddered to remember his times with Angelus, and wondered if removing the tattoo could also erase the shameful memories. He wanted everything to finally be over. "God, I hope so, Buff. I want to come home."
Buffy's lips trembled and she lost her smile. If guilt were a perfume, she looked as if she'd just broken the whole bottle on herself. The pained look she gave Xander said everything that she couldn't speak aloud: "I wish I had been the one to bring you back."
Me, too. You have no idea how much.
Buffy rubbed the sweat from her brow and forced herself back into Slayer mode. "Why didn't anyone tell me this in the first place?" she muttered with a hint of irritation.
"I tried to...in between pummels," sighed Giles.
Buffy used her foot to quickly flip the discarded crossbow up into her hands and trained it on Spike. "You want a time out? Fine. Let Giles take Xander inside and we can have a friendly chat about pomme de sang stuff." She motioned him away from Xander with the crossbow.
Spike scowled at her but stepped back with an exaggerated wave of his arms. "Couldn't wait to get rid of the little bugger anyway."
"Believe me, I'm not going to miss you either, Bleach Boy."
Giles knelt down and adjusted the grey blanket around the shivering, nude boy in a too-little-too-late effort to preserve his dignity. "Buffy, we have another problem. Xander says Cordelia and her cheerleader friends are in grave danger. Angelus and Drusilla are hunting them tonight."
"Damn. Odds are they'll head for the basketball game at the school. Has anyone seen Cordy?"
"Willow is speaking to her now." Giles scooped Xander up as gently as he could, but he cried out when he accidentally grazed his injured arm.
"Shh, I'm sorry. It's all right, I've got you." Giles flinched when the chain spilled out from under the blanket and scraped along the ground as they moved. "Good lord! What was that?"
"J-just a souvenir from Dead Boy's Funhouse." Xander lolled his head against Giles's shoulder as the man struggled to carry him into the living room. It was odd feeling another warm body again; to be touched by someone who didn't want to hurt him. He silently thanked Giles for smelling like Earl Grey and musky aftershave instead of dried blood and semen, for reminding him of kindness when he'd almost become resigned to cruelty and pain.
Giles brushed stacks of books off the sofa with his foot before laying Xander down. He elevated Xander's legs, grabbed the afghan draped over the side of the couch and covered him with it. When Giles turned on the lamp he grimaced and cursed under his breath upon getting a better look at the welts and bruises covering Xander's body.
"You've hemorrhaged a great deal of blood, and you're cold because your body is in severe shock. Rest here while I fetch a warmer blanket and the aid kit." When he stood up, Xander tugged at his sleeve.
"Take the deal, Giles."
"But the risk..."
"I don't care. Angel has to be stopped before he hurts someone else. No matter what happens afterwards, it's gonna be for the better."
Giles nodded and briefly squeezed Xander's hand. "All right," he said hoarsely. "I'll speak with Buffy."
"Guys! Cordelia's okay!" Willow announced loud enough for everyone to hear. She had that urgent, breathless tone she got when she was nervous that made her sound like the words were slipping out faster than her lips could keep up. "She's at the gym. No sign of Angel yet, and everyone on the squad is accounted for. The game just started, so she had to go...'cause, you know she's the apex and all."
"Angel would be stupid to try anything in front of a big crowd, so they'll be safe until I can get there." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I guess Spike gets a free pass tonight. Darn, I was hoping I could kick his ass around the block a few times, too. Giles, you deal with him while I head for the school."
"Hey! Aren't we forgettin' something?"
"Buffy, a moment please. There's something important Spike and I need to discuss with you." Giles joined the Slayer and Spike outside.
Xander was starting to feel much, much better knowing that soon it would all be over. For the first time in days, he felt like he could let down his guard and relax. Xander nestled under the afghan, grateful for the added warmth as well as the extra covering. He wasn't thrilled about the prospect of having anyone catch a glimpse of him in his birthday suit, especially with that very unsightly rip in the sleeve.
Willow hunched down next to the couch. Wearing a wan smile, she licked her thumb and tenderly rubbed a spot of blood from Xander's chin. "If you ever leave me like that again, you're in big trouble, mister!" She hugged him carefully, as if afraid the slightest pressure might cause him to break.
"What are you gonna do? Kick my ass?" he teased, hugging her back with his good arm. "Stand in line."
Willow swallowed a giggle. "Stop it. I was so scared," she said softly. "I was afraid I'd never see you again."
Xander felt a tightening in his throat. "Me, too," he whispered. He kissed the top of her head before letting her go. When Willow sat back, her eyes were watery but she managed to keep smiling.
Xander had never been happier to see her shy little grin. Willow was more than his best friend; she was his touchstone, his lighthouse beacon when his life seemed the darkest. When he kissed her, he recognized the sweet scent of apple shampoo, the kind she always used after he'd bought her a bottle when he didn't have enough money for a real birthday present. No matter what happened to Xander, one thing would never change: Willow would always be the only home that really mattered.
Afraid he'd get too choked up to speak, Xander attempted to change the subject. "So you're telling me I've been missing for days, and my girlfriend is off doing back flips in front of an audience? What's up with that? She's not still mad at me, is she?"
"No! No, don't think that. Cordelia's been a complete wreck since you've been gone. She didn't even have the heart to mock Lisa Paddington when she wore a bra under her tube top. It's just that, well...while Buffy has a sacred duty to protect the world from vampires, Cordelia thinks it's her destiny to cheer the Razorbacks on to victory over Sweet Haven. It's a huge responsibility, Xander," she said solemnly. "She could drop a pom pom, and we'd lose all hope of ever getting into the state quarter finals."
The two friends paused for a second before erupting into giggles, the kind that always spilled forth when they knew they were supposed to be serious. Xander needed laughter to make him feel better much more than a blanket or a band aid. He was tired of being hurt, tired of being scared. He wanted moments like this where he could feel like a normal person again.
As he laughed the chain fastened to Xander's manacle jingled, causing Willow to notice it for the first time. Puzzled, she stopped Xander when he self-consciously tried to tuck it under the afghan.
"Why is that one still locked?" Xander blushed and tried to jerk the chain away from her, but Willow was insistent. "Ew, what happened? Why is it covered in blood? Are you still bleeding? Let me help you..."
Xander shook his head. "No, Will, trust me, you don't wanna look..."
When she pulled back the blankets, she saw that his hand was gone. A thick, blood-soaked rag had been wrapped over his left wrist and tied off with strips of cloth. The bandage was backlit with an orange glow, as if it had been stretched over a flashlight instead of a bloody stump, and sparks of mystical energy licked out from the edges of the rag.
Willow stood up slowly, unsteadily, her cries rising from a whisper to a scream. "Xander? What...what happen...what happened to your hand? Oh, God! What happened to your hand?"
Please, don't look at me like that. Don't look at me like I'm a monster!
Buffy and Giles rushed back inside to see what the commotion was about.
Xander sat up and tried to reach for Willow, but she backed away from him looking like she was about ready to lose a month's worth of breakfasts. "What did they do to you? What did they do?" she sobbed.
"Shh, shh, shh! Don't be scared, I'm okay. It's going to be fine soon. The marks, they always go away, you'll see..."
"What the?" Buffy edged her way to the couch. When she saw Xander's mutilated wrist, her mouth slipped open and she shook her head in disbelief.
"How can it...G-Giles, it's glowing. Why is he glowing? What's happening to him?"
Giles clenched his fists and his eyes narrowed to angry slits. "Spike. Spike happened to him."
"Oh, bollocks." Spike started to bolt but was stopped when Giles punched him as hard as he could.
"You sadistic monster! That's how you helped him? By cutting off his bloody hand?" Spike blocked the Watcher's next punch, and smashed him in the stomach. Giles tumbled backwards and crashed into the coat rack standing next to the front door.
"You lying son of a bitch!" Buffy swept past the unconscious Watcher and launched a flying kick at Spike. He dodged and used her momentum to flip the Slayer over the railing, causing her to crash into the courtyard.
"I didn't lie," Spike growled, his features shifting to his demon face. "You may not appreciate my methods, but I saved him! If it wasn't for me, Xander would still be waiting for your sorry ass to show up and rescue him while Angelus buggered him day after day."
Buffy wiped blood from her lip and stared up at Spike in horror. "Wh-what did you say?"
"You heard me. What? Jealous your boyfriend's found a new shag?" he sneered.
"Do you like it when I touch you? Beg me. Show me you're my little slut."
"Shut up!" cried Xander. Fueled only by his embarrassed rage, Xander ripped himself off the couch, clutching the blankets around him as best he could, and stumbled to the door. This shouldn't be happening. He was home. Things were supposed to get better for him. This wasn't fair! He didn't want to relive everything again, it was supposed to be all over with.
"Don't listen to him! Please, just let him go. You need to go help Cordy!"
Spike sauntered down the steps towards Buffy. "Look, Slayer...kill me, and Xander will be a rent boy for the rest of his immortal life. Meanwhile, Angelus is preparing to do very nasty things to his pretty little girlfriend. I'm not the one you need to be pounding into a bloody pulp, he is! Stop fuckin' around and KILL HIM ALREADY!" he screamed.
"I don't have time for you," Buffy growled. "Get out of here."
"You remember our deal, missy. If you harm Dru..."
"I said get out, before I change my mind and start getting creative with a meat cleaver myself," she said darkly.
With a disgusted snort the vampire fled into the darkness, leaving the members of the Scooby Gang all alone.
Buffy stood quietly in the shadows. She put her arms around herself and turned away from the doorway. Xander slowly padded out onto the porch and looked down at her in the courtyard below.
"Buff, what are you doing? You have to go after Angel."
"I'm so sorry, Xander," she cried in a tiny little voice. "I'm so, so sorry. It's all my fault. I should have been able to protect you. God...and now. Don't hate me. I'm sorry, but I can't kill him. I don't want to lose..." Buffy choked back a sob. "I'm sorry!" She took off running.
"Buffy, listen to me," he shouted out after her. "Screw the curse! You can do this. You have to! I-I don't want to be the reason Angel hurts anyone else!" But Buffy was gone. Exhausted by his exertion, Xander slid to the ground and sat cowering over his knees.
"Buffy promised me she'd kill him," he said sadly.
Still shaken herself, Willow shambled up to Xander, sat next to him, and put her arm around him. He collapsed into her embrace, his tears wetting her shoulder. "I know. I know she did. But that was before we, um, before we knew about the curse. Things are different now."
"Yeah, but the tattoo needle...even if Spike won't give it to us, we'll find it. Giles can use it to help me!"
Willow blushed. She started to tremble and she avoided looking at him directly, as if deeply ashamed about something and afraid to admit it. "No...I-I didn't mean your curse. I meant Angel's curse. Buffy and I...we think we've figured out how to return his soul."
"Buffy and I...we think we've figured out how to return his soul."
"You-you what?" Xander slowly pulled away from Willow.
...they never came for me...
"All this time, you've been trying to save...Angel?" Xander had to force himself to say the name, as if speaking it aloud could somehow make him appear and the pain would begin all over again.
"No, no, it's not like that!" Willow backtracked, sounding desperate to appease him. He almost couldn't understand what she was saying, what with being so busy picking up the jagged shards of his heart and all.
"You're nothing to her. I could kill you, torture you, or make you my bitch, but none of it would change a thing. Your suffering doesn't mean jack shit, because Buffy will never stop loving me."
"We weren't trying to help Angel, we just kinda stumbled onto it by accident. Really, if you want to get technical about it, Miss Calendar was the one who found his cure. We think she was recreating Angel's curse before...before he, um..." Her hasty explanation ground to a halt. "You know," she mumbled sadly.
"Before he murdered her?" Xander snapped, his voice dark with malice learned from days of suffering at Angel's hands. "It's heartwarming to know so many people are concerned about Angel's welfare. 'Cause he's such a nice guy when you *really* get to know him!"
Upon hearing his stinging words, Willow ducked her chin to her chest like a punished dog. "Xander, I know how you feel about him, but think about it. If we can make him the way he was, then -"
"Great. Just perfect!" interrupted Xander harshly. "While you're at it, can you make me the way I was, too?" He pulled his ravaged arm out from under the blankets. It spat bright sparks of light at Willow while she cringed, tears racing down her face like they were trying to escape.
Disgusted with everything, Xander jerked away from Willow, gulping back a scream when he accidentally pushed himself along the patio wall with his stump. The pain roared into overdrive as he cradled his abused wrist and he saw that the glowing sparks emanating from under his bandages were even more effusive than before. Xander chuckled bitterly, looking up to see if the punch line to this great cosmic joke called "his life" was written in the stars.
"Then Angel and I can hang out together at The Bronze and everyone can pretend nothing bad ever happened. Gee, won't that be swell?"
Xander clutched his blankets around him as he lurched to his feet. The threadbare wool and crocheted blankets were flimsy covers, but they were the only protection he had in his crazy nightmare world. When he stumbled, Willow tried to steady him but he shrugged her away.
"Dammit, I don't want your help! Go find someone who really needs it. Poor Angel might have a heart attack after all that vigorous beating-the-shit-out-of-me!"
"Please, please don't be mad at me, Xander." Willow spoke in a tiny, fearful voice, wringing her hands while she wept. "I'm sorry. I-I only wanted him to stop hurting you. I'm so sorry..."
Cowering in front of him with her breath hitching out in big hiccupping sobs, she looked like a frightened six-year-old. Xander remembered the day she was terrified that her father would kill her because she'd ripped her best temple clothes climbing the tree in Xander's backyard. She'd cried and cried, too scared to go home and face him. All the years he'd known her, he knew that nothing pained Willow more than disappointing someone she loved.
Xander softened, reluctantly letting the rage leach out of him.
What the hell am I doing? She couldn't possibly understand that what happened to me could never be erased, not with a soul for Angel or anything else. And I hope she *never* knows what he's capable of. Thank God he didn't take my Will.
"C'mere." He nodded Willow closer, and she immediately enveloped him in her tiny arms again. "I'm sorry I yelled like a big old tantrum baby. I'm just sick of everything being all about Angel, you know? The guy is a total pain in my everywhere."
"I don't want him to hurt you anymore," Willow snuffled against his shoulder. "We couldn't find you and we didn't know what to do. When I found the curse, I just thought it could bring you home!"
"Shhh, I know you did." Feeling Willow cling to him like he could slip through her fingers any moment, Xander believed her. His world was in chaos, but one thing Xander knew with blind certainty was that Willow loved him. True, the soul revelation stung almost like betrayal, but he wouldn't allow his feelings about Angel poison one of the only good things he had left in his life.
Xander heard a groan and looked over Willow's head to see Giles regaining consciousness. He nudged Willow. "Hey, look." He smiled a little. "It's the winner of the 1998 Guinness World's Record for greatest number of blunt force head traumas," he joked softly.
Giles sat up and gingerly probed the side of his face. His glasses were gone and he had a bloody gash near his temple where the metal coat hook had gouged him.
"That's it. I'm buying a bloody crash helmet," Giles muttered as he tossed the broken coat rack away from him.
*LATER*
Xander tugged the slender silver chain and carefully placed the rubber stopper on top of the faucet. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he watched the pinkish water funneling down the drain and felt almost human again. Despite the plumbing issues, "Er, you'll need to use the pliers to shut off the water all the way, I'm afraid," Giles had told him with an apologetic shrug After being chained in a chilly, bloodstained crypt for three days with nothing but a bucket for a toilet, Giles's modest bathroom felt like a luxury spa.
Normally Xander was a shower type of guy. He'd lather up and rinse off as quickly as possible before someone yelled at him for using up too much hot water. But tonight he was grateful for Giles's huge, old-fashioned, claw-foot tub. He was too exhausted and sore to stand up for very long and he wanted so badly to feel clean again. He'd soaked in the bath until his skin was pale and pruney from trying to wash all his fears away.
Calm down, man, calm down. Buffy won't let anything happen to Cordelia. Spike's ploy will work and Angel won't find me here. Mom's gonna be safe at Uncle Rory's house. And maybe Miss Calendar's curse won't work. Just...be cool. You can do this.
His arm shook as he gingerly pulled the plastic bag off his wrist. Nothing had changed. It was still mutilated, and still shining like a Fourth of July sparkler.
Christ, I'm so hideous! How do I explain this to people? Am I going to have to hide out forever? What am I going to do once the curse kicks back into gear? It hurts so much when Angel isn't...aaargh! I don't want to be like this! Why can't my life go back to the way it was?
For what felt like the millionth time, Xander staved off the impulse to break down into tears. Feeling sorry for himself and crying did nothing to help the situation. If he was going to survive, he had to be tough. If Bruce Campbell could take on the Evil Dead one-handed, then by God, he'd learn how to do that, too.
Determined to keep his composure, Xander stood up from the tub, pulled the borrowed bathrobe tighter around him and threw down a towel to sop up the water he'd sloshed all over the floor. Xander hoped Giles wouldn't be too peeved about the stained towels and the watery mess, but even if he was, he doubted Giles would say anything about it. Xander had been getting the kid glove treatment all night while they waited for the girls to return from the hopefully bloodshed-free basketball game.
Giles and Willow had wanted to bring him to the emergency room, but Xander was having none of that. All he wanted was a sandwich, a bath, and to be there when Cordelia came back. Willow was worried that he'd hurt himself, and begged him to let Giles help him bathe. Xander had blushed furiously while imagining Giles in a starched white cap and World War II nurse's uniform caressing him with damp washcloths while dispensing helpful information about amputation and the phenomenon of phantom pain. Gyuh! No way. He really didn't need any new nightmares to deal with right now!
He did his best to hide it, but Giles had oh-thank-God face when Xander told them he could definitely handle bathing all on his own. Willow fretted over his sparkling wrist ("But what if you get electrocuted?") until he promised to wrap it in a plastic bag and not get it wet.
It was a challenge scrubbing off all the blood, dirt and stuff he'd rather not think about with one hand, but he felt like he needed to regain some measure of control. He wanted his independence back, to feel like he was his own man and not a helpless little boy.
Soaking in the tub also gave him some precious time alone to ponder his situation. Willow had debriefed him on the police investigation into his father's death. She'd hacked into the Sunnydale Police computer system and learned that in light of his similar "neck ruptures" and disappearance, Xander was being sought out as a person of interest in the case. Giles urged him to remain sequestered in his apartment rather than risk being picked up for questioning.
Although Xander wanted very much to see his mother, he didn't argue with that logic. He'd seen "The Terminator" six times and had no desire to see a super-strong killing machine massacre all the cops in the police station should Angelus decide to come for him there.
Giles also informed him that Buffy had visited his mother to confirm his father hadn't been turned. She learned that Jessica had no memory whatsoever of the night Xander was taken. Xander wasn't sure whether to blame his mother's amnesia on Drusilla's hypnosis or the high blood alcohol level listed on the police report, but he was extremely relieved that she couldn't remember anything. If only he could be oblivious again.
"Our sweet Alexander's old daddy was a surly one. But I taught him manners, didn't I, Miss Edith? He was much more polite once he learned that he couldn't make a fist without his fingers or curse without his tongue." "Shut up! Stop talking about him!" "Why so upset, Harris? From what I hear, he was nothing but a lousy drunk! You should thank Drusilla for getting rid of him for you. And you should thank me for whisking you away from your miserable white trash life. So let's hear it! Thank me, boy. Thank me real nice and maybe I won't have to use the pokers again..."
Xander kicked that memory to the curb before it went any further. He hated being burned because the smell was so nasty. Had that happened on Wednesday or Thursday? Or had it really happened at all? Because the scars disappeared so quickly, it was difficult to tell where the torture ended and his nightmares began. No wonder the pommes de sang went insane!
Won't happen to me. I'm not going back to him, not ever.
When he gathered the dirty towels and dumped them in the hamper he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. The robe's collar had billowed open, baring much of his chest. Now that he'd bathed, the slate had been wiped clean - almost. Unlike the bites, bruises, and Drusilla's sanguine "poetry," the tattooed A steadfastly refused to fade into nothingness.
Scowling, Xander threw open the medicine cabinet and dug through it looking for bandages, unmindful of the contents spilling all over the counter. He found a package of self-adhesive gauze pads and ripped open the box with his teeth.
Screw your brand, Dead Boy. I'm not your kowtowing little slave. You and your Manson Family gave me the worst you had, but I endured. You picked the wrong guy to mess with. Even if it takes 100 years, I swear I will find a way to kill you and that crazy witch. With or without anybody's help.
He slapped the bandage over the tattoo, smoothing the brown edges across his chest. At least he wouldn't have to look at the damn thing.
When there was a light knock on the door, Xander pulled the tan bathrobe tighter around him.
"Yeah?"
"May I come in?" Giles asked.
"Um, sure." Xander unlocked the door and stepped back. "Sorry I took so long."
"Take all the time that you need." Giles handed Xander a neatly folded pair of pajamas. "Can I get you anything else? There's an unused toothbrush in the second drawer, as well as some extra razors and such."
"Thanks. Already found 'em, I'm good." He motioned Giles outside so he could get dressed, and continued to talk through the closed door as he struggled into the wine-colored cotton pajamas. A little long, but they'd do.
"Any word from Buffy and Cordelia?" Xander asked hopefully. He pulled a comb through his damp hair and scrutinized himself in the mirror.
Do I look okay? Is Cordy gonna freak out when she sees me?
"Not yet, I'm afraid. But I have compiled all the information you've requested about pommes de sang. You can review it whenever you're ready."
"I hope you've got the Cliff Notes, 'cause the only French I ever learned was from Pepe LePew." Xander fumbled with the buttons on the pajama top. How did people dress themselves one-handed? He frowned when he realized he got the buttonholes misaligned and his shirt was all crooked.
Whatever, at least I'm not Naked Guy anymore.
Xander winced when he looked at his wrist. The bloody rags underneath were looking pretty nasty and almost ready to fall off. He opened the door to find Giles waiting patiently in the hallway.
"Hey, I think maybe I could use a hand...stupid!...I mean, help changing my bandages." He blushed and tentatively held out his arm for inspection. "If you're not too grossed out about it. Willow always seems like she's gonna blow chunks when she gets a close look."
Giles straightened his glasses and gave him a sympathetic look before taking Xander's arm. "I don't mind at all. I only wish you'd consent to go to hospital so somebody could tend to you properly."
"No way. I've seen The X-Files. If the doctors ever get a load of this, they'll be calling in the men in black faster than you can say Marcy Ross. Besides, you're the one who suggested I keep a low profile so the cops don't find me!"
Giles looked the arm up and down and peered under the loosened rags, grimacing when he saw the raw edges of the wound. "Merciful heavens. At least the pillock was bloody considerate enough to make it a clean cut. Are you in much pain? I have Demerol in the cupboard."
"S'okay. I'm used to it now, and I can't afford to be zonked out when there's so much to do."
Giles guided Xander over to the toilet and urged him to sit. "If you change your mind, you have but to ask." He snagged a large green metal first aid kit out from under the sink and pulled out a tiny pair of scissors, some iodine pads and a fresh roll of gauze.
"Why the heck does it look so weird, Giles? Do the books say anything about the sparks? 'Cause I don't want to look like the freaking Statue of Liberty forever, know what I mean?" Xander raised his arm straight up in the air.
"Stop that," he grumbled, sounding more like the annoyed Giles that Xander was used to. He lowered Xander's arm and carefully started cutting the bandages away. "I-I don't know. The references to the blood-apple's regenerative powers are all very vague. I can only assume that the loss of your hand may have caused a disruption in the flow of mystical energies that accelerate the healing process, and that the specks of light emanating from your wrist are the un-channeled manifestation of those energies."
"You mean the curse is trying to heal something that isn't there?" Xander winced when Giles cut through the last of the bandages and began to peel the blood-soaked rags away from his skin.
"It would appear so. Now, let's get a better look and see what we're dealing with."
Something shifted inside of Xander as soon as the remaining rags fell away, like his stomach was trapped on an elevator that suddenly dropped twenty floors. He couldn't even see the wound because the room was immediately flooded with bright white light. Giles hissed as he fell backwards onto the linoleum, shielding his eyes.
"Aaargh! Xander!"
With his eyes closed tight, Xander blindly tried to rush out of the bathroom. The air felt semi-solid, like walking through a shaking bowl of gelatin and a strange high-pitched wind whistled through the room. Xander was feeling very queasy; he just knew he'd taste peanut butter and marmalade sandwich again in the near future. If his stomach didn't burst and splatter all over the walls first, that is. Unable to see anything, he crashed into the bathroom door and toppled onto the floor.
"What the hell is happening to me?"
Xander arm heated up, fast, like someone had popped it into the microwave on High. He screamed as he felt his skin bubbling and welling, and when he thought he could stand it no more an even more excruciating pressure surged through his arm as if his body was trying to pass a watermelon-sized gallstone through his wrist. Overwhelmed by the pain, Xander curled up on the ground, faintly aware of the pounding on the door and Willow's shouts in the background.
No. I don't wanna die, not yet!
All of a sudden, it stopped.
No light. No wind. No pain. Xander slowly opened one eye, then the other, and saw Giles backed against the bathroom wall staring at him like he expected the gates of hell to open up and suck everything into another dimension. They both sat there quietly waiting for something apocalyptic to happen, but nothing came.
"Uh, guys? What's going on? Is everything okay?" asked Willow from the other side of the door.
Xander finally pushed himself up from the floor.
"Oookay, that was completely non-fun," he groaned. "No offense, but I think I want a new doctor if that's gonna happen every time you give me a new Band-Aid." He smoothed out his rumpled pajamas...
...with both hands.
"Giles?" Xander gulped. He wiggled his left hand in front of his face, staring at it as if he'd never seen one before. He could feel it! It was real! The tiny scar at the base of his thumb was even there, the one he'd gotten when he'd fallen off his skateboard a few years back.
"Whoo hoo!" Xander laughed, really laughed for the first time in what felt like a century. He jumped on Giles, not caring about the unseemliness of embracing a man in a bathroom.
"Look! Look! I'm me again!" He whooped and hollered and danced the befuddled Watcher around.
After jimmying the door open with a twisted wire coat hanger, Willow tentatively peeked into the bathroom and her jaw dropped when she saw the two men dosey-doing their way across the linoleum. "Guys, now you're *really* starting to scare me." Giles and Xander abruptly stopped dancing and tried to look as normal as possible.
"Whoa, head rush." Without warning, Xander collapsed and Giles rushed to support his weight.
"Xander? Xander!"
"M'okay," he mumbled. Really. It's the healing...it always takes a lot out of me. Just gotta rest for a minute."
"Come now. Let's get you into bed." Giles led his exhausted friend down the hallway.
A very groggy Xander held his hands up for a stunned Willow as he passed. "Look ma, two hands!"
His friends tucked him under the covers of Giles' bed, and for the first time in a long time when Xander fell headlong into the darkness he wasn't afraid.
*LATER*
Xander woke up to the sound of the front door closing. He sat up in bed and listened for the voices downstairs.
"...alive?"
"...resting...frightful ordeal..."
"...what do we do about the...?"
How long had he been out? Were the girls finally back? Still fighting exhaustion and malaise, he fumbled his way out of bed.
"...didn't expect to see you tonight," he heard Willow say as reached the top of the stairs.
"Devon flaked, so we had to call off the gig. S'all good though, because now I can join the welcome wagon." Oz looked up and gave Xander a little smile as he crept down the stairs. "Hey, there you are. Really glad you're back, man."
"Oz...um, hi." Xander tensed. He remembered how Oz had nearly lost control of his wolf the last time they were together and instinctively backed up a few steps. "Good to be back."
"Come on down, Xander. It's okay!" Willow gleefully held up a small pouch attached to a long piece of twine. "Magic Odor Eater, see? It's supposed to mask your scent." She bounded over to a still hesitant Xander and hung the charm around his neck. "Oz showed up just in time to test it out!"
Xander fiddled with the tiny leather pouch. Usually Willow's herbal concoctions stank like rotten eggs or cat pee, but this one was blessedly scent-free. "It really works?"
Oz shrugged. "Guess so. I'm not getting the cheeseburger vibe from you anymore."
"Of course it works! Since when hasn't one of my spells worked?" asked Willow. Giles coughed suspiciously while Oz and Xander hastily averted their eyes and shuffled their feet.
"Oh, okay, sure. So maybe the fire slug repellent exploded before we could use it. And then there was the completely minor, almost not worth mentioning incident with the levitation spell in the library..."
"...where I was glued to the ceiling for three hours?" Giles snorted. "Yes, let's not mention it ever again."
Xander giggled. "Aw, c'mon, that was funny. When I walked in and saw Buffy and Willow jumping up and down trying to bat you off the ceiling with mops and brooms, it was like a big ol' Giles piñata!"
"I was bummed that there was no candy. Just a fuzzy cough drop and a little pocket change," deadpanned Oz.
"I really don't think that one should be considered my fault!" Willow muttered as her cheeks reddened. "How was I supposed to know the magic shop owner sold me phony Griffon feathers? Okay, so maybe my spells haven't always worked the way they're supposed to," admitted Willow with an embarrassed little jerk of her shoulders. "But this time I checked, double checked, and triple checked all the components. I cross-referenced the charm with every spell book in the library. If it can help Xander, you know darn well I'm going to get it right."
Touched by his friend's gift, Xander smiled and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Will. This means a lot to me, especially if it keeps all the monsters..." Seeing Oz raise an eyebrow, Xander caught himself. "...and werewolf Americans from sounding the chow bell whenever I'm around." Willow beamed proudly as she slipped back to her boyfriend.
"Can you sense anything different about him, Oz?" asked Giles. "Any scent of blood at all?"
"Nothing. As soon as I walked in the door, it was like a de-smell-iterized zone. You should get a patent for that thing, babe." Oz snuggled Willow's ear. "It beats the heck out of those little plastic stick up deodorizers that we use in the wolf cage."
Willow perked up. "Hey, Giles, that reminds me...did you remember to load up on tranq darts? Tomorrow's the day before the full moon and we had to use a couple last month." She ruffled Oz's hair. "I know you didn't mean to get frisky, hon, but sometimes you can't help it."
The question caught Giles off guard. "Is it that time already? I'd forgotten in the midst of everything." He rubbed his chin as he thought back. "Yes, there's a new case of darts in weapons cabinet. We should be all set."
"Y'know, not a lot of librarians are willing to score drugs for their students." Oz favored Giles and Xander with a quirky half-smile. "Gotta say, Xander. You're pulling off the Hugh Hefner look with considerable aplomb."
"Yeah, Giles does have the stylin' jammies, doesn't he? I'm waiting for the Playboy Bunnies to show up at any moment."
As if on cue, the front door swung open. Xander's heart clenched as he turned to look at the latest visitors.
"C-Cordy? Is it you?"
Continued in the next part
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