Yes, this will be a crossover… but I’m not telling with who or what. I’ll let you know at the end of the fic. :)
So, yeah, I’m an evil bastard. Heheh. :) I’m also telling you there will be a relationship in this fic, between Xander and someone else. But, once again, I’m not telling. Most people hate these spoilers, anyway.
Time-line: Buffy is in season 2, right after Halloween.
Xander moved through the thick and misty jungle, his body moving from the cover of one tree to the next, his weapon moving in conjunction to cover as much area as possible. He heard gunfire, followed by screams of wounded men.
He winced, and ducked to cover
himself, flat on his stomach, weapon ready to fire, waiting.
That was the hardest. The waiting. Waiting for an invisible enemy to shoot that
one bullet that would change your life. Wait for the inevitability.
Xander was scared to death.
The gunfire sounded closer now,
and Xander made a decision. He jumped up, and started running. Running for his life.
The gunfire chased him,
inspiring more adrenaline-induced speed from his exhausted legs.
Xander emerged in a clearing,
the gunfire hot on his trail. He looked over his shoulder to see if he could
distinguish any of the shapes following him from the thick dark-green of the
jungle. Of course, he couldn’t. His head turned to look forward again, yet
immediately, it seemed to explode.
“Got him,” he heard someone say
in what Xander thought was Vietnamese. He opened his eyes, blinking furiously
against the pain caused by the knock of the rifle against his head. Finally,
his blurry vision focused, and a dozen Vietcong soldiers were bent over him,
obviously taunting him in their native language. He only understood a couple of
words. They dragged him uptight, their strong hands gripping at his fatigues,
dragging his half-unconscious body along the ground to their camp.
All the while, they taunted
him. He may not have understood the words, but he sure understood the tone. He
had heard it plenty of times before. They knifed through him.
As they re-emerged from the
deep forest, the Vietcong soldiers tied him to a post, and left him to stand
there in the burning Vietnamese sun. Xander’s lips were dry. His throat felt
like a desert.
A bulky officer approached him,
and Xander’s voice sounded like cardboard when he asked for something to drink.
The officer slammed a bulky fist in Xander’s stomach. He would have bent
forward, if not for the fact that he had been tied securely to the post.
“Shut up, you American pig!”
the man shouted in broken English. “Me ask question
here. Who you?”
Xander refused to answer. The
man hit him again. And again. “You not want to help
friends?” the man resumed as he slammed into Xander again. “Friends hurt, and
you not help. You not good friend?”
Xander groaned, looked up through the only eye that was still open. And stared into the face of a vampire. Night had fallen, and
he was held against a tree by the monster in front of him. Behind the vampire,
he could see Buffy, on the floor, being beaten by a dozen vampires.
“You’re a useless guy, aren’t
you?” the vampire taunted. “Look at you! Look at her! She’s dying, and
you can’t do anything to help her!”
Xander tried to move. He really
did. But his body had no effect against a vampire who was four times stronger
and five times faster than him. The vampire hit him again. “Stop hitting yourself,” the vampire said.
Xander groaned, sinking to the
ground. He found that he could do so, unrestrained by the vampire. A stinging
pain crashed over his back, electing the first cry from the boy as he sunk to
all fours. He looked up to see the broomstick come down again.
“You useless
brat! Parasite! Loser! Deadbeat!” a drunken voice rasped out as
the broom crashed into his shoulder. “You’re a disappointment!” the voice added
as Xander fell sideways, his left arm giving up under the blinding pain in his
shoulder.
“Dad…” the boy whispered.
“I should charge you RENT!” the
man growled, the broomstick coming down again.
Xander bolted upright in his bed, drenched in sweat. “What a nightmare,” he grunted, rubbing a non-existing wound on his left shoulder. Casting a look at the clock, he knew it was futile to try and get some more sleep before he had to get ready. He flopped back, his hands under his head, staring at the ceiling. He could feel his t-shirt and his boxers stick to his body. His fear-sweat was like glue.
Taking deep breaths, Xander finally managed to get his raging heart to settle. He remained, laying there, his mind too shocked to think, for the next half hour until the alarm finally went off. Shaking his head and letting out a sad breath, Xander forced himself out of his bed. He shut off the alarm, grabbed something from his closet, and went to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, Xander emerged, dressed in a red-blue Hawaiian shirt over a pair of blue jeans. The moment his foot hit the first step of the stairs, his instincts warned him that something was off. He took it as a leftover from his nightmare, shook the feeling off, and walked downstairs. Seeing no-one in the kitchen, Xander grabbed a couple of sandwiches. Once again, the nagging doubt of his instincts popped up. Instead of putting something on the bread, Xander decided to eat underway to school, and prepared to make a getaway form the house of his nightmares.
Xander turned to leave the kitchen. A big man with a beer-gut and a face that hadn’t seen a razor in weeks entered. Immediately, Xander knew what was wrong.
His father was drunk again.
Only, this time, he was drunk in the morning.
“Can’t ya say morning to yer dear old dad, son?” his father grumbled, advancing on the teenaged boy. Xander swallowed, his brain noting the smell of cheap whiskey on his father’s breath.
“Morning dad…” Xander said, but apparently, it was not fast enough to his father’s liking. Before Xander knew what had happened, He was looking in a whole different direction, and his cheek stung like a whole nest of bees. Xander’s hand automatically went up, caressing the cheek his father had just hit.
“Ya c’n take me food and live in me house but some respect is too much, huh, you son of a whore?” the man shouted, slapping Xander a second time. The boy grunted out in pain, again, and ducked under his father’s next swing. “Have to get to school, dad,” Xander shouted as he ran down the hall and out the front door, grabbing his book bag under way. He was glad that his father hadn’t hidden it, like he sometimes did… and Xander hoped furiously that the man would be out cold by the time school was out later.
“Xander! What happened?” Buffy shouted the moment she saw him. Willow was by his side in a second, backing up Buffy’s sentiments.
“Eh… a vamp,” Xander lied. “You see… my dad… yesterday; he wanted something from the store after dark, so he sent me. I managed to get from under the vamp, though.”
“A VAMPIRE?” Buffy hissed angrily. “What did it look like? I am so going to tear into it when I find it!”
Xander forced a smile to his face. “Thanks, Buff. Appreciate it.”
“What did it look like?” Buffy asked, already going over her list of ‘Giles-not-approved-because-they-hurt-too-much’ attacks.
Xander rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s see. It was dark, so I didn’t see much of its face. But it was about this high, this wide, could hit like a freight train and ran the hundred meters in no time,” he answered, hands making the necessary movements to give a general idea.
Buffy sighed. “I’ll do my best,” the Slayer promised. “Tonight, after dark, I am going to tear through this town.” She placed a hand on Xander’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Xan. I’ll get him for ya.”
Outwardly, Xander was smiling. How could he not with Buffy touching him? But inwardly, his soul screamed in pain. It’s my father! Help me! Please… help me… Xander forced it down. This wasn’t anything Buffy needed to concern herself with… she had problems enough of her own.
The rest of the day wasn’t any better for Xander. His mind constantly slipped back to the nightmare he had gotten that night. Teacher after teacher caught him. By the end of the day, Xander felt sick. Sick, emotionally and physically. His usually vibrant brown eyes stood dark and empty. He walked home with about half a lifetime’s worth of detention. He knew that he’d be in even bigger trouble tomorrow. After all, he had left the school while he technically had to be in the detention hall. And he had skipped out on a Scooby meeting with his friends.
Xander just couldn’t care. All he wanted was to fall in his bed, and sleep the rest of this horrible day away.
It can’t get any worse than this… Detention, extra assignments, skipped detention, have no intention of doing homework or assignments, skipped Scooby meeting, and, oh, yeah, let’s not forget that dad keeps hitting me. I hope the deadbeat drunk’s in his bed by now.
Xander pushed open the door. The moment he did so, a plate hit his head. Followed by a cup of some kind, and a second plate. Xander had lived all his life on the Hellmouth. He had been out with Buffy after dark. As such, Xander had progressed. The first plate had struck, breaking into four pieces as it hit him. Xander had immediately dropped to the floor so that the cup and the second plate went right out the door.
Xander managed to get up on his feet, yet kept low. He snuck against the wall to the kitchen, where a couple empty bottles on the table told Xander more than he had ever wanted to know. Xander flipped around. He wanted to run to his room, lock it, and disappear.
No such luck.
As he spun, he came face to face with his father… who was literally swaying form left to right, holding a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey. The bottle had been closed, and he was holding it by the neck, as if he was going to hit Xander with it.
Xander’s eyes went wide. The bottle came down. Xander dodged to one side. The bottle slipped from the drunk’s hands, and shattered on the floor.
Xander and his father both stared at the amber liquid that flowed on the white-tiled floor. Xander was thinking of only one thing. This can’t be good. Xander’s father, on the other hand, was just staring in shock at the floor that now held his precious alcohol.
“Ye stupid brat!” the man slurred, taking a swing at the boy. Xander, however, as standing just a little further than the drunk’s mind could calculate, so his swing met only empty air. The man staggered, lost his balance, slipped on the alcohol-laden floor, and was soon staring at the nasty brown ceiling. Xander gave him no time to recover. He bolted from the kitchen, up the stairs, and to his room.
He locked the door, and fell flat on his back on top of the bed. Only now did he feel something wet on his forehead. He swiped at it. Blood.
That plate hit harder than I thought. Xander fell out of bed, and stumbled to his only dresser. He dredged a first aid kit form under the cover of his clothes. Looking into a hand-held mirror, Xander applied rubbing alcohol to his wound, causing him to wince at the pain before he put a band-aid over the wound.
I’m lucky… the cut’s not that big. It’ll be a scar, though… Xander stared at himself in that small hand-held mirror for a long time. You’re in it for a lifetime, pal. He thought to his mirror image. Your friends don’t care enough to see what’s really happening. Your father and mother love the bottle more than you. Your school thinks of their stupid, boring lectures before you. Snyder is the principal from hell. You’re on your own…always have been… your entire life.
Xander took a breath, and with a fit of rage, threw the mirror against the far wall. “Damnit!” he growled. “Why is it always me??”
There was a rattle of his door. “Open the door, bastard!” his father’s drunken voice slurred through the door as a meaty fist started pounding it. Xander had no delusions about it holding out for long.
The story of my life, the boy thought miserably. A second thump against the door seemed to cut through his very soul. I’ve got to get out of here! Xander’s mind shouted, and he grabbed his backpack, and turned it upside down to empty it of school-related materials. He grabbed a couple of sweaters from his dresser, and threw a concerned look at the door, where the pounding had increased significantly. He grabbed as many t-shirts as he could, grabbed his raincoat, and stuffed it all in his pack.
When the door finally broke down, the room was empty.
Xander looked up at his bedroom window, where he could hear his father cursing and yelling. Swallowing against the fear he felt rising, Xander turned, and ran. As he ran, he fingered a small metal container in his jeans pocket. All 52 dollars and 16 cents of my life savings, he thought as his legs continued to thump on the pavement.
He ran to just about the only safe house he could think of, the house of his best friend since childhood, Willow. As he ran, his shattered mind realized something. The one thing Xander had never thought he would realize. They can’t help me… why would they? They’ve never been able to help me…I need to get away. I can’t…I just can’t take this anymore… With those words in his mind, Xander turned, and ran.
Night had fallen over the City of
As his mind sunk deeper into the swamps, to the point where almost nothing of the outside world registered anymore, something happened. A scream. A scream by a female throat. Xander’s head lifted, his eyes scanning the vicinity. He heard nothing. His dull brown eyes narrowed as his ears focused. He had heard that scream, hadn’t he?
Xander sighed, his shoulders sagged, and his head bent once more. He was starting to lose his mind. Not only had he lost his home, his parents, and his friends, now he was losing his sanity as well. Xander felt miserable. His feet started walking again, out of their own accord. He wanted nothing better than to die, right here.
He passed an ally. Or rather, he started to pass it, as his progress was halted when a big man fell right in front of his feet. Xander halted, and stared at the man, his eyes looking but not seeing, his mind unable to register what was happening.
The man turned around, looking up at the boy. Something snapped within Xander as he jumped back three paces, face twisted in shock and horror. The man was a vampire.
Xander dropped his pack as the vampire rushed him. Moments earlier he had wanted to die. Now, with the vampire rushing him, Xander’s survival instincts seemed to take over. Honed by years of living on the Hellmouth, Xander’s instincts were more powerful than most. He ducked under the horizontal swipe the vampire took at him. The vampire growled, and tried to grab him.
Xander twisted out of the way, and actually managed to presence of mind to jam his knee in the vampire’s unprotected side. The vampire overbalanced, and stumbled against the side of the building. Xander dove for his pack, threw it open, and started rummaging through it. He found what he was looking for.
The vampire recovered, and grinned evilly as he saw the boy standing over an open backpack. He rushed the boy’s unprotected back, fangs fully extended. Just as he jumped, the boy turned around, holding something sharp in his direction.
The vampire growled as he felt the sharp object penetrate his heart.
Xander stared at the settling dust, and his stake. Why did I bring this? He asked himself. I am no Slayer… Giles and Buffy keep telling me that. I’m the nothing… Willow’s the smart one, Buffy’s the strong one, and Giles the wise one. I’m just good for pizza or donut duty. Gunshots penetrated the fog around Xander’s mind, and he shook his head to clear his vision.
He rushed back to the ally, to see two young women, shooting bullet after bullet at a trio of nastily grinning vampires.
Xander looked at the scene, unable to comprehend. The first woman was about 20, had blonde hair, and her stance screamed ‘aristocracy’. She appeared, in every sense of the word, a Lady. The second one was about his age, about 16, had dark brown hair that seemed black in the night’s lighting, and her eyes were a reddish-brown, a taint he had never seen in eyes before. The girl’s stance appeared brutal and efficient. The first one was only deadly. The second one was beyond that.
Xander was transfixed.
Until the vampires decided that the game was no longer fun, and they rushed the two women. Xander saw the girl drop her gun, do a rush of her own, and tear into the vampires. Broken bones sounded in Xander’s ears. Xander knew that, no matter how good these two women were, they were no match for vampires. They had no idea how to kill them.
Xander grabbed a firm hold of his stake, rushed into the fight, and roughly stabbed it through the back of the nearest vampire. The demon howled, and turned to dust. The two others, seeing their comrade die, discontinued their engagement to the two girls, and charged Xander, the only one to pose a threat. Xander was still staring blankly at the dust settling around his feet. This was more than he had ever dusted in a single night. Two vampires. And he wasn’t even on the Hellmouth.
As he stood there, he heard a scream from the brown-haired girl, causing him to look up. At that time, the two vampires were on top of him. Xander was catapulted against a wall, head-first, and his vision blurred and his legs turned to mush. At the same time he started to sag, the nearest vampire grabbed him, and tilted his head. Xander closed his eyes. This was the end. He knew it.
A throbbing pain stabbed into his
neck, radiating through his entire body instantly. He vaguely hard a female
scream. His mind ignored it. He could feel his blood draining in a symphony of
pain and pleasure. An image flashed before his eyes. Him and Willow in
kindergarten. Him and
Buffy, rejecting
his feelings for her.
He raised his foot backward, right in between the legs of the vampire draining him. The vampire groaned, backed away slowly. Xander turned around, a feral look on his face. He screamed, slamming his hand in the vampire’s face, a hit that broke the nose of his opponent. The vampire growled, and stumbled back a few paces. Xander ran forward, and threw his leg up, this time placing a solid kick in the vampire’s family jewels.
The two girls winced at the sickening sound, followed by the terrible whine of the vampire. The second vampire, recovered from the shock by now, rushed Xander, who dodged, and rolled over the ground, away from the vampire’s grip. As he rolled, Xander’s hand instinctively grabbed the stake he had dropped earlier. As he came out of the roll, Xander threw it. The second vampire dusted.
The first vampire was still on the floor, curled into a fetal position. Xander walked towards him, scowling. “You vicious <kick> mother-fucking <kick> sadistic <KICK> son of a BITCH <KICK-KICK>” Each kick only served to increase the wail of the vampire. Xander hefted his stake, and planted it. The vampire dusted.
Xander breathed deeply, both to replenish his energy and to fight the sudden wave of dizziness that overcame him. He made a grab for the wall, which seemed to dance away from him. Xander fell.
“What the…?” he whispered, his voice slurring. He blinked, trying desperately to focus on something, anything, that could serve as a focal point. A concerned, sad-looking face appeared in his swimming field of vision. It was the brunette girl.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice slightly accented.
“I’m fine,” he slurred in reply, trying to sit up straight. After he managed so, he felt the dizziness overcome him again, and he would have hit the ground once more if the girl hadn’t supported him, and lowered him gently to the ground.
“You don’t look fine,” the girl stated. Xander grunted something under his breath. “You hit that wall pretty hard when that…thing… threw you into it. You’re bleeding.” He felt her press something to his forehead. It stung a little, but Xander bit it down.
“Vampire,” Xander whispered.
“Sorry?” the girl asked, red-brown eyes wide open in confusion.
“Those were…vampires…” Xander replied tiredly. “Don’t die… unless you…stake them…or chop off…their heads.”
The girl stared in silence at the boy, then looked over her shoulder to where the dust was scattering in the wind now. She looked at her companion, who was string in equal shock at the girl, before shrugging, and chuckling slightly.
“Where do you live?” the girl asked Xander, turning back to face him.
He managed a shrug. “Just… arrived. Don’t have anywhere to go,” he whispered the latter sadly. The girl looked sadly at him.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” she whispered. “Maybe we should get you to a hospital,” she added, now that she saw the full extent of his condition.
Xander shook his head, fighting down the rising bile. “No insurance,” he whispered. “No hospital… they’ll find me…” The red-brown eyes opened again, and the girl looked over her shoulder at her companion.
“Mireille…” the brunette whispered.
Mireille, the blonde woman of 20, let out an angered sigh, and closed her eyes as she turned her head away angrily. “You’re really into this picking up strays thing, Kirika,” she said. After a few seconds, she added somewhat testily, “Just for tonight. You can fix him up, if you want, but after that, he has got to go.”
“Thank you,” Kirika whispered to her companion, helping Xander to his feet, his taller body leaning on her narrow yet powerful frame. Mireille sighed, went to the other side, and put Xander’s second arm over her own shoulders.
“We’ll take you with us,” Mireille told Xander in a slightly more accented English than her companion. “But only for tonight, and only because you saved us from these… vampires.”
“Thank you…” Xander slurred, wishing desperately that he could remember some of the French he took in school, so he could thank her in her own language.
Kirika watched Xander as he slept on the couch, her head bent slightly, her red-brown eyes almost fully closed, the eternal sad look etched on her features. Suddenly, a hand held up a cup of coffee in front of her nose.
“It’s not as good as the tea you make, but it’ll get the job done,” Mireille said gently as Kirika took the cup, and gave her companion a grateful look.
“Thank you,” the girl answered, blowing gently in the hot liquid and resuming her pensive stare at Xander.
“How is he?” the blonde woman asked.
“He’s asleep,” Kirika answered. “I dressed his wounds, and he’s finally resting…” The girl switched her look from the boy to her companion for over a year now. “Mireille… those wounds he got tonight… they weren’t his only ones.”
Mireille sat down in a second chair, and looked at the girl, prodding her to continue.
“I found… cuts… and bruises…” Kirika closed her eyes, and turned her head away against the negative emotions that welled up. “I know the type… Mireille… he’s been hit.”
“He’s been in fights?” Mireille asked, voice rising involuntarily as her mind pictured the young man in a fist fight. “That’s hard to believe, Kirika.”
“You don’t understand, Mireille,” the girl said sadly, getting up from the chair, and sitting down on the couch, next to Xander. She checked the bandage on his head. “I know the wounds… the type of wounds… because Althena used to inflict the same ones on me and Chloe.”
“What are you saying?” the blonde woman asked.
“Mireille! He comes from an abusive environment!” the girl grunted out, voice climbing. Immediately, she blushed at the rise in her tone, and looked back at Xander, making sure he was still asleep.
Mireille was silent as she looked from her companion to the boy. It was true, she had a cold personality. She held no emotions for her fellow human beings. Indeed, it took her quite a while to develop those feelings for Kirika. But it was one thing not to feel one way or the other. But this… no. Mireille looked at the boy, who had risked his life, literally, for them yesterday. How anyone could hurt him was beyond her.
“Kirika… do you think that is what he meant when he said ‘they’ll find me’, when you suggested the hospital?”
Kirika nodded. “I think he ran away… he meant it when he said he had nowhere to go.” The girl sighed sadly, got up, and walked to one of the windows. “I know… I felt it…the same way when Soldats took my memory, and I woke up with nothing but the name ‘noir’ and my gun… no home… no friends… nowhere to go… I was lucky to be able to piece together enough to find you, Mireille.”
Mireille snorted dryly. “You found me, and practically blackmailed me into helping you.” She got up, throwing one last look at Xander. “You’re going to stay with him tonight?”
Kirika was still looking out the window when she nodded. “He might need something… it’s the least I can do.”
“Good night, then,” Mireille wished her smaller companion before disappearing in her suite, leaving Kirika behind.
Her childhood, raised as ‘Noir’ by a woman named Althena. Kirika thought of the things she did… had to do… for the woman who was her adoptive mother. Trained to kill from the tender age of three. First confirmed kill at age four… Mireille’s parents… for disobeying Soldats…Kirika shook off the memories. I grew up without emotions. I was the Black Hand of Noir. And then… then they took my memories, dumped me in the real world, and I had to take care of myself. I found Mireille… and my heart.
She sat down in her earlier chair, watching Xander. “I learned how to care, Stranger,” Kirika whispered. “And I learned that not all targets are good targets.” Like Chloe…I killed the girl I grew up with to protect Mireille…
Kirika pulled up her legs into the
chair, and settled in. When she saw Xander twitch, and a moan escape his lips,
she looked up concerned. Seeing that he was having a nightmare of some sort,
she did about the only thing she could do… she sat down next to him in the
couch, and debated whether or not to wake him. The dream subsided when she
grabbed his hand. Relieved that his nightmare ended without her having to wake
him, Kirika returned to her chair.
Xander’s head was pounding, and he let out a small moan when he cranked open one eye. He blinked against the sunlight streaming in through the windows, before his vision cleared. As Xander was getting his bearings, he felt rather than saw someone sit down on the narrow piece of couch next to him.
“Are you alright?” a gentle voice asked. The sad tone in it immediately sent Xander into full ‘Xander’ mode… the same thing he used with Buffy and Willow to help their sad moods lift.
He cracked a smile, even though it pulled on his head wound and made him wince immediately afterwards. “Yeah, I’m just fine,” he said light-heartedly. “Takes more than a brick wall to keep me down, you know?”
The girl smiled weakly, but the sadness etched in her eyes didn’t lift. “You don’t have to pretend…” she whispered, gingerly removing the dress on his wound, causing him to wince as she did so.
“Pretend what?” Xander asked as the girl started to redress his wound.
“That you’re okay,” she answered. “I don’t know where you’re from… or how you got here… and I don’t care. But you don’t have to pretend to be strong. Your wound must hurt. I’ve had similar… they hurt really bad. I hope you don’t have a… a… concussion?”
Xander smiled slightly. “Hard head,” he answered, tapping his fist against his skull, and wincing as he obviously tapped the wrong spot. He groaned. The girl smiled slightly at his antics.
She pushed him down gently. “Lay still… I have to apply this bandage,” the girl said sincerely, a neutrality entered her features as she concentrated. It was a type of concentration Xander had only seen on Giles’ face, a type that indicated that nothing mattered but the immediate task.
After she finished with the dress on his wound, he held out his hand. “By the way, we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Xander.”
Kirika smiled, taking his offered hand in her own, surprising him slightly with the strength in her grip. He was used to Buffy’s Slayer strength, so it didn’t show. “I’m Kirika,” she replied, blushing slightly as Xander took her hand, and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly.
“Always pleased to meet a beautiful lady,” he answered, causing her to look away. He cursed himself. Damnit, Xan! Smooth!
The girl got up, the easy mood they had built since Xander’s awakening gone. She sat down in her chair again, taking the large cup from a nearby table. She drank from it.
“Is that coffee?” Xander asked tentatively, not wanting to upset his hostess any more than he already had.
“Tea,” she answered levelly. “Would you like some?” she asked, the timbre in her voice changing again. It was obvious that the girl was willing to put the awkwardness behind them, and Xander wholeheartedly agreed.
“Sure,” he answered, not really feeling much for the beverage, but willing to give it the benefit of the doubt.
As the girl got up and walked to the small kitchen, she said, “Mireille says that I make really good tea. I hope you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will,” Xander answered, smiling as the girl disappeared.
About ten minutes later, Kirika returned with two big, steaming mugs of hot tea. As he sat up to accept his mug, the covers had slid away, revealing his naked upper torso, and he had jumped to cover himself.
“Uh…did you…” he stammered, looking from the covers at Kirika, and back at the covers.
“There were blood stains on your clothes,” Kirika apologized. “Mireille is having them cleaned. We didn’t look through your pack, so we didn’t know if you brought any spare clothes.”
“Right… well… I did…” Xander stammered.
“Don’t worry,” Kirika answered, setting his mug down on a table so he could reach it easily. “I only looked for other wounds… I didn’t look through anything… other…”
Xander blushed. “That’s…good to know…” he grunted, looking everywhere but at Kirika.
“Maybe I should get your pack,” the girl whispered, jumping up and disappearing really fast. Xander stared at her retreating back. He swore he had never seen anyone move so fast… and that included Buffy. He didn’t have long to contemplate, however, as Kirika returned within seconds, carrying his pack. Xander dug out a pink Hawaiian shirt and a pair of black jeans. He started to fidget under the covers, while Kirika sat down and took her mug.
“Eh…maybe you could… you know?” Xander begged, indicating with his head what he would like her to do.
“Could…what?” Kirika asked, looking directly at him.
“Eh…leave me while I change?” Xander asked hopefully.
Kirika smiled smugly. “Why? I mean…I’ve seen you already…”
Xander groaned, and decided to just get it over with. He dropped the covers, and managed to get into his clothes without too much trouble. He was grateful Kirika didn’t stare, instead dividing her attention between him and the cup of tea, casting concerned looks at him every time he let out a small groan when yet another sore muscle came into play.
He sat down, and took the tea. He had to agree, Kirika’s tea was a lot better than that camel piss that Giles called ‘tea’.
Ten minutes later Xander was telling Kirika all he knew about vampires. He was just about to break into the subject of the Slayer when the door to the suite was opened and closed angrily.
“C’est pas été une partie de bonheur pour trouver des croissants dans ce
pays de sauvages,” Mireille grunted as she entered
the room. It’s not easy to find croissants
in this country of barbarians.
“Je
At the sight of Xander sipping tea, Mireille’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Kirika, can we have a word?” she asked in French. The girl let out a sigh,
nodded, and got up. Xander watched the two women leave the room.
“How is he?” Mireille asked the moment they were alone.
“He’ll be fine,” Kirika replied in her usual precise manner.
“Physically.”
Mireille’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” she asked rather short.
Kirika shrugged. “He’s hurting inside,” the brunette replied. Looking
away, at the closed door to the living room, she added, “I really wish you’d
allow me to help him.”
Mireille chuckled amusedly. “You know that’s not possible, Kirika.
Tonight, we have to scout for the job tomorrow night. We can’t run the risk of
him finding out. Besides, who says he’s not from Soldats? Even though we dealt
them a big blow, they’re not destroyed. He could be an agent.” The blonde
beauty shook her head. “No, he can’t stay.”
“But he saved our lives!” Kirika protested, surprising herself along
with Mireille. Normally, she never protested. “We owe him, Mireille!”
“We owe him nothing!” Mireille grunted. “For all we know, those…vampires
could be brought in by him. Besides, I don’t think I buy the whole vampire
deal. It’s just too strange. It’s got to be some trick.”
“Mireille, we fought them! I felt their strength! No human could have
such strength! Mireille… we talked. He told me about these things. They’re even
worse than we can imagine…”
“It’s a clever trick, Kirika!” the blonde woman grunted angrily. “And my
mind is made up! He does not stay!”
“Can we at least give him breakfast?” Kirika asked, eyeing the bag her
companion had deposited on the kitchen counter.
Mireille squinted, glancing sideways at the same bag. “Fine. But then
he goes, got it?”
Kirika looked sadly at the ground, and nodded her head.
“You really shouldn’t bother on my account,” Xander said in English as
he pushed open the door.
“Xander? Tu parles le Français?”
Kirika asked, shocked.
“Huh? Sorry, I don’t speak French,” Xander answered, unwittingly
answering her question. “But I understood the tone… you guys were fighting
about me, weren’t you? Well, don’t bother… I’ll be fine… I’ll always be fine,”
he said, plastering a smile on his face. Xander turned to leave, and said,
“Thanks for the fix, Kirika. It was good meeting you.” Xander took two steps.
And then he faltered, a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea overcoming his
drive to keep going. His head pounded, and Xander actually thought he could see
his vision dimming.
Before darkness claimed him.
When he woke up, he was on the couch again, and the drapes had been
closed to submerge the living room in a twilight. Xander’s head pounded, and he
was glad for the gloomy atmosphere. He lifted hand to his head, and felt a
fresh bandage.
“Oh, God…” Xander groaned. He tried to sit up, but he had hardly lifted
his head off the pillow when a new wave of dizziness overcame him.
“I think you really do have a concussion,” Kirika said with a concerned
tone in her voice as she appeared from somewhere.
“Damn,” Xander groaned in answer. “So… what’s the verdict, Doc?”
“Doc?” Kirika asked, not understanding.
Xander cracked a weak smile. “I asked whether or not I would live,
doctor.”
Kirika smiled slightly, and sat down next to him, allowing him to see
her easier. “We should get you to a hospital, Xander.”
“No… no hospital. They’ll find me…”
“Your parents?” Kirika asked gently.
Xander stared at her in blind shock for at least ten seconds. “How did
you…?”
Kirika’s eternal sadness increased slightly. “I know… what it’s like,”
she answered calmly, and Xander failed to understand how her voice could have
its normal timbre, totally contrary to the sadness on her face.
“I’m sorry,” Xander whispered, feeling sleepy all of a sudden. “For
what it’s worth… I’m sorry you had to live through a hell like mine…”
Kirika smiled gently at him, the sadness in her eyes not leaving. She
brushed some of his hair away from his forehead. “Get some more sleep,” she
urged. “You’ll need it…” Xander never heard her last words, darkness claiming
him in its embrace once more.
“What do we do now?” Mireille asked, stepping out of the kitchen, and
stopping at the couch to look down at the patient. Kirika stood up form her
position on the couch, and sat down in her chair again. She looked plaintively
at Mireille.
“Don’t look at me like that, Kirika,” the 20-year-old woman grunted.
“This isn’t some street cat you picked up. And a concussion requires a lot of
treatment… you know he’ll need help with pretty much everything for the next
few days. And with the job tomorrow evening…”
“I’ll do it,” Kirika said. “I’ll take care of him.”
Mireille sighed, and sat down next to the girl. “Kirika… I know you
feel you owe him… but we can’t run the risk. I warned you before. Remember
Milosh?” The same time the words left her mouth, Mireille knew she had gone too
far. The wince on Kirika’s face deepened that knowledge. Immediately, she
turned to the younger girl. “I’m sorry Kirika… that was low.”
Kirika shook her head. “You’re right,” the girl whispered. “He got
killed because we became friends…” she hung her head, her deep-brown locks
hiding most of her features. Mireille knew her friend better than that by now,
though… after what they went through, how could she not?
“I’m sorry, Kirika…”
The girl shook her head. “Even though it hurts… I still remember the
time we spent together with fondness. And that… that makes it worthwhile.”
Mireille stared with open mouth at her companion. “When did you become
so deep?” she asked, now smiling slightly.
“When the faces were no longer nameless,” the girl whispered in reply.
She raised her hands, and looked sadly at them. “Yuri…Chloe…I killed them.”
“I thought you didn’t feel regret?” Mireille asked.
Kirika shook her head, and dropped her hands again. “I don’t.” She
turned to look at Mireille. “But Xander needs our help. He saved our lives.”
Mireille sighed. “This will give problems, Kirika. Do you think he’ll
stay once he finds out who we are? Or worse, what if he’s killed?”
“I don’t care,” Kirika whispered, effectively shutting up Mireille.
Both settled for watching the sleeping boy on the couch.
That evening, the starlight found two girls, dressed fully in black,
sneaking around in a lush garden somewhere in the Beverly Hills region. Quick
like ghosts and fluidly like water, the two forms moved through the shadows.
Finally, they reached the huge mansion, erected out of white stone. Consisting
out of two stories, the mansion was as big as any they had ever seen.
As if by some silent agreement, Kirika went one way, and Mireille the
other. Quietly, they circled the house, to meet at the other side. Kirika
looked up, to a balcony. Mireille nodded, went down to one knee, and linked her
hands together. Kirika took the step, and aided by Mireille’s boost, she lifted
herself up on the balcony above them. As soon as she was comfortably over the
balustrade, Kirika dropped flat on her stomach, put both her arms through the
pillars of the balustrade, and waited for Mireille.
The blonde woman took a jump, clasping firmly around her companion’s
wrists, after which the brunette lifted her larger companion up to the point
where she could grip the balustrade and lift herself higher.
Finally, both women were up on the large balcony, which contained
multiple French doors. Most of those doors showed no light, all save for one,
at the very end. Sprinting silently as ghosts, both women raced to the lit
doorway, only to frame it, one girl on each side.
Both peeked from behind the corners, throwing one eye on the scene
inside. What they saw made their eyes grow wide.
The room they looked into was large, richly decorated, and well lit.
Looking at the side of the scene, the girls had a good view of everything that
happened without being seen themselves. Both Kirika and Mireille held their
breaths, listening in on the conversation through the double-glass doors.
The man who was speaking was a short Japanese man of slightly above
middle age. His hair was starting to gray on the sides, yet his voice still
hadn’t lost its strength as he yelled at the large Caucasian man who was
staring at the ground. The larger man was nodding silently, obviously terribly
distressed. His posture oozed it.
Finally, the Japanese man yelled at the three men who had remained
silent so far. “Nobody keeps back money from the Yakuza! Show him, and dump his
carcass somewhere where people are bound to notice!”
The three bodyguard-types threw themselves at the Caucasian man, and
both Kirika and Mireille were sure that they were going to rip him apart. They didn’t
expect them to change into vampires and do it literally.
“This is going to be a hard mission,” Mireille grunted as the duo
walked along LA’s darkened streets. “Those vampires make this a very dangerous
mission.”
“How can someone employ vampires?” Kirika asked silently. “And
how will we get to him? We can’t stab them, we can’t kill them…”
“We’ll have to avoid them,” Mireille said. “Maybe get him while he’s
alone?”
Kirika sighed, and looked at the pavement as it slid by her walking
feet. “Maybe we should ask Xander for help.”
Mireille snorted. “Xander? How could he help? He’s passed out on
our couch, remember? He’s got a concussion. At least a week of rest, and then
slowly ease him back into life. There’s no way we can postpone this. It has to
be done tomorrow.”
“Who knows how many vampires he has?” Kirika asked. “We only saw three.
It’s safe to assume he has more. We need to know how to detect them. How to
kill them. Tactics. Strategy. We need plans, Mireille. And Xander has
experience.”
Mireille sighed. “And then what? We ask him how to take care of
vampires. What if he asks why we want to know? What then? We tell him we’re
Noir, the best in the business? Tell him we take any job that pays our fee?”
“Any job that involves crime,” Kirika added.
Mireille snorted again. “Every job involves crime. One mob boss
wants to kill another. Same thing with the Yakuza. The mob wants the Yakuza.
The Yakuza wants the mob. Interpol wants a drug lord. We take any job that pays
our fee, Kirika.”
“We need Xander’s help,” Kirika whispered, actually hugging herself.
“Mireille…” the young girl looked plaintively at her companion. “I’ve
seen…done…some of the worst things a human can do… but these things… they scare
me.”
Mireille actually stopped. “WHAT?”
Kirika looked sadly at the ground. “I can’t kill them… I’m scared of
what I can’t kill,” the girl whispered. “And what they can do… what Xander told
me they do… they’re not human.”
“Like what?” Mireille asked, colder than she intended. Kirika’s eyes
narrowed slightly, her face growing sadder still.
“They drink blood… they torture for fun…drive people insane… they do
the worst things anyone can do…” Kirika looked up. “They are four times
stronger and five times faster than an ordinary human. They can’t be killed…
unless you chop off their heads, or throw a stake through their hearts.”
“Then you do know how to kill them,” Mireille said with a small
smile. “See? There’s nothing to worry about.”
“We have no stakes. And I left my sword in Paris,” Kirika added the
last part sarcastically, looking up darkly at Mireille, causing the aristocrat
to look abashed at her younger companion.
“Kirika…”
“I am going to talk to Xander,” Kirika said, not taking her friend’s
bait. “We will see after that.” As she started to walk, she felt an iron grip
on her wrist.
“Kirika…” Mireille tried again.
“He can help, Mireille,” the girl said darkly. “I know he can,”
she added sadly.
“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when he goes insane on us.”
Kirika didn’t answer that, and together, the two women walked to their
hotel suite, where Xander was still fast asleep.
Well, he was, until the girls pushed open the door, and closed it a
little loudly.
“Hey,” he welcomed them, still feeling his head throb.
“Xander,” Kirika said, sitting down next to him on the couch. “Xander,
we need your help.”
“That sounded ominous,” he said jokingly, smiling slightly. When
neither Kirika’s nor Mireille’s faces changed, he lost his smile. “What can I
do for you?” he asked, his voice losing its joking tone.
“Vampires,” Kirika answered. “How do we kill them? You’ve got
experience… we need you to tell us any ways you know to either get rid of a
vampire, or how to kill it.”
Xander’s eyes went wide. “You’re not…going to do what I think you’re
going to do, are you?” Silence was his answer. “It’s not as easy as you think,
you know,” he added, head dropping back on the pillow so he was now looking
straight up at the ceiling. It was white… he liked this a whole lot more than
the brown specked ceiling in his parent’s house.
“It is easy,” Mireille interrupted his thoughts. “You tell us
how to kill the vampires. And we don’t throw you out right now.”
“Mireille!” Kirika shouted.
Xander sighed sadly. “If I leave, you’re still going to go after them,
aren’t you?”
“Yep,” Mireille said with a smile.
“Fine…” the boy whispered, closing his eyes. He forced a breath deep
into his lungs. “First, a vampire is a demon inhabiting a human body. When the
soul has departed, the demon sets up shop. When you destroy the demon, the host
body disintegrates into ashes. There are several ways a vampire is created, but
the most common is through a bite. The vampire drains your blood. You drink the
vampire’s blood. You become a vampire. Simple.
“Now, a vampire requires blood to live. Any kind will do, but the
vicious bastards prefer human blood over cow, pig, sheep, or other blood. They
claim it tastes better. Anyway, they can smell it a mile away, and a hungry
vampire will go after that smell like a bloodhound. And believe me; the vamp
will catch up to you. Four times your strength and five times your speed and
all that. You know… demon stuff.
“Weaknesses… holy symbols like crosses, stars of David, and so forth
repel vampires. Hits too close to home for the demons. It will also force a
vampire to reveal its vampiric face. So, when in doubt, shove a cross in a
person’s face. If they don’t vamp out, they’re not a vampire. Second, a vampire
reacts to holy water. It’s like acid, making a vampire’s skin steam and bubble.
That’s also a way to find out whether or not a person is human or not.
“Ways to kill them… sunlight, stake through the heart, decapitation. I
guess if you dropped one in a barrel of holy water it would do the trick too. I
wouldn’t know. Holy water doesn’t come in barrels. Oh, another weakness is blessed
objects. If you’ve got something blessed by a priest, works like a charm.
“And before I forget… a vampire can’t enter a residence unless invited.
So never invite someone in. you can motion, but never actually say ‘Come in.’.
Those words can kill you.”
“I see,” Mireille said. “Thank you.”
“If you’re really going hunting… get a couple of water pistols and fill
them with holy water… and get a couple of bags of pig’s blood from the butcher.
You can throw a vial of blood to distract vampires. The nose, remember? And the
pistols can repel vampires just as well as crosses.”
“And stakes?” Kirika asked.
“A sharp stick,” Xander replied. “Pull a branch from a tree, sharpen
one end. A vampire’s not picky… wood is wood. Pointy end goes in the heart.”
With those words, he sunk into his couch again, his eyes closing painfully
against the throbbing pain that permeated his head. Xander lapsed back into the
blissful darkness of sleep. He was unaware of most of what went on for the next
hours. While Xander slept, Kirika and Mireille were in the kitchen, the door
closed, plans spread out on the kitchen table. The two were planning their
‘job’ for tomorrow.
“Tomorrow, I’ll go to the park, and see if I can’t pick us up some
branches,” Mireille said. “Once we get back to Paris, we’ll see to getting some
wooden knives made… now that we know these things exist, there’s no reason not
to be prepared.”
Kirika nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” she answered dully. For the
umpteenth time, her red-brown eyes went to the kitchen door.
“Kirika…” Mireille grunted. “We can’t keep him. Tomorrow we take the
hit… you know we have to move fast after that. The day after tomorrow at the
very latest, we’re back in Paris.”
Kirika sighed. “Even after all the help he gave?” she asked slowly,
focusing her sad eyes on her blonde companion.
“Help? What help?” Mireille asked, sounding exasperated.
Kirika’s eyes narrowed. “He saved our lives. And he told us the best
ways to destroy vampires. He told us diversionary tactics, weaknesses, and
testing methods. Even without knowing what we’re about to do… he practically
planned the mission for us. Test, divert, weakness.”
Mireille gasped as sudden realization came over her. “How… you’re
right, Kirika… I didn’t notice. How did he do that?”
Kirika shrugged sadly, looking once more at the door. “He must have a
lot of experience…” she whispered, her voice trailing off. She closed her eyes.
“Experience fighting vampires… I wonder how long he has been doing this, at the
risk of his own life…”
“Come now, aren’t you reading too much into this? Sure, the information
was helpful, but it’s not like he gave us a sure-way ticket to victory,”
Mireille said callously. He probably just got lucky.”
Kirika drew in a sharp breath, and stood up. Her eyes were dangerously
narrow. “Mireille… that is NOT information you come across easily. Those are tactics,
designed through experience. In combat.”
Mireille looked past her friend, to the door after which Xander slept.
“So… how long has he been doing this, according to you?” she asked flatly.
“A long time,” the brunette whispered, sitting down again. “Too long.
He’s running… whatever happened… it was too much for him.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mireille grunted. “We still can’t keep him. What
would you do? Take him with us? Show him Paris? No-one knows about Noir’s
secret residence, and I want to keep it that way. We’re not taking him with us,
and that’s final!”
Xander awoke barely during the next day, just enough to get some food
into him. He awoke finally when he heard urgent whispers coming from his two
hostesses. Xander sat up, ignoring the slight floating motion of the room, just
as the front door fell closed. “They’re going to…” Xander grunted, getting out
of the sofa, almost falling down again as the room’s swimming motion became
worse. Clenching his teeth, Xander poised his mind against the dizziness and
the nausea. They didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. He needed
to help them.
He grabbed his backpack, still located next to the couch, slung it over
one shoulder, and stepped to the front door of the suite. Once outside, Xander
rested his back against the heavy wood, trying to catch his thoughts, breath,
and equilibrium. Gritting his teeth so hard it was audible, Xander forced
himself to run. The pounding in his head had settled into a dull throb, the
waves of adrenaline forcing a clamp on the pain and dizziness. They helped him.
He was not about to abandon them to something they didn’t know how to handle.
Xander bit back a curse when Buffy’s image floated in front of his mind’s
eye. What about her? You left her… why not leave them as well? Xander
shook his head against the unwanted thought. No. Buffy’s the Slayer. She
made it more than clear. She doesn’t need me. Wills prefers her company over
mine. They don’t need me. They don’t want me.
Xander made it outside, just in time to catch a glimpse of the two
women disappearing around a corner. Xander raced after them. Neither do
they, the voice continued. They don’t want you either. Xander
grunted as he forced his weakened body to cross a street in pursuit of the two
girls. She does! Xander answered his inner voice, thinking of Kirika,
how her voice had sounded while defending him.
He was just in time to see them disappear into a taxi. Xander cursed
loudly. DAMN! He hailed a second cab, and instructed it to follow the
one the girls were in. When the first taxi stopped, Xander instructed his taxi
to stop a little further down the road. He spent some of his last money on the
cab before setting off in pursuit of the two mysterious girls.
What’s with them? He asked silently. Taking a cab to the
rich part of LA? Where are they going? He crept after them, biting down
another wave of nausea. Now that the first adrenaline had settled, his
concussion made its presence known once again, and Xander was forced to stop
and lean against a wall to gather his bearings. Finally, the attack subsided,
and Xander was forced to run, hoping that he hadn’t lost them. He didn’t find
them after the first corner. Nor the second. At the third corner, he saw a
glimpse of blonde hair disappear, and Xander raced after it.
He was just in time to see them pull dark caps over their head, hiding
their hair color, and disappearing over a hedge. Xander drew a breath, took a
stake from one of the pouches of his backpack, and slipped it into his belt. He
jumped the hedge, and groaned as the landing sent a jar of pain through his
head.
He blinked almost continuously as he followed the girls to the large
mansion, his head feeling worse and worse by the moment. There was only so much
he could force his body through. He knew he was running on empty. He also knew
he couldn’t leave them. Something inside of him propelled him on, forcing him
to draw strengths from hidden reserves. His teeth were bared as he gritted them
to keep up to the two girls.
How do they do this? his tired mind asked. They behave like
professionals… how do they know to sneak around like this? Just who are they?
His tired mind flashed him an image of Kirika tearing into a vampire, breaking
bones in moves that would have killed any ordinary human within seconds. Only…
vampires didn’t die from things like broken bones.
Finally, the two seemed to enter the house. Xander followed.
Kirika and Mireille had entered the house unnoticed. They made their
way through the darkened mansion, coming to the target’s bedroom. They knew
where it was. The blueprints had made sure of that, and last night’s scouting
mission had confirmed it. They slipped into the bedroom, both drawing their
guns. Kirika drew her Beretta M1934 Commercial, as Mireille brought her Walther
P99 to bear. Both screwed on silencers.
Without hesitation, they brought up the guns, and fired at the figure
in the large bed, obscured by the darkness and the covers. At the same moment,
all the lights flashed on, and an even dozen vampires flew into the
room, surrounding the duo.
They heard a chuckling voice. ‘Target’ walked into the room. “I never
once imagined that the infamous ‘Noir’ was composed of two girls,” he chuckled,
causing Mireille to tense dangerously. Kirika, as always when on a mission,
remained totally cold and impassive. “As you can see, I am well equipped… and I
have my sources to warn me of danger. Such as Noir being sent after me.”
“Most targets do,” Mireille whispered dangerously. “They all said that
same thing… and they all died.”
The Japanese man laughed heartily. Slowly, he composed himself. “Kill
them,” he ordered flatly, causing a dozen vampires to run towards their
targets. Both immediately dropped their guns, and raised improvised stakes in
their right hands. In their left, they suddenly held crosses, repelling the
vampires.
Back-to-back, the girls were unable to do more than watch the circling
predators. “This is a stalemate,” Mireille grunted. Kirika tensed, her mind
calculating her break-out assault. She was going to destroy these fiends, one
way or the other. Her eyes were narrow. Her posture had changed. She was
becoming Noir.
Grabbing the stake in a reversed hold, the brunette charged. At the same
time, she heard a hissing sound, followed by screams and the smell of burning
flesh. Kirika ignored the signs. Screaming vampires is good.
She reached the first vampire, who was staring in shock at something
behind her. Kirika planted her stake into the creature’s heart, and found it
disintegrating into dust. Landing through the dust cloud in a crouch, the girl
smiled, holding up her weapon. Her face totally devoid of emotion, her
technique silent as the shadow, Kirika charged the remaining vampires, her eyes
scanning for the target after the one she engaged, swiping her stake left and
right.
Snarling, the remaining fiends recomposed and charged. Only seven of
them remained after Kirika’s first assault, and two of those had taken a load
of the holy water that had torn into their ranks earlier.
“Mireille… take the shot,” Kirika said on her flat tone, and she
awaited the vampires’ charge. Mireille didn’t think twice, dove for her gun,
and rolled, her gun sweeping the room. The target was slowly edging his way to
the door he had entered through. The blonde assassin wasn’t prone to missing
moving targets while moving herself. She wasn’t about to miss this time. Four
nine millimeter ‘parabellum’ bullets tore through his torso. Two exploded into
his head. Only then did the man sink to his knees, before falling sideways,
unseeing eyes staring at her.
At the same time, Kirika had simply stood there, awaiting the charge of
seven vampires. The girl rolled Mireille’s dropped stake onto her foot, kicked
it up, and caught it, putting her cross back in her pocket in the same motion.
Wielding two stakes, Kirika stood erect, calmly awaiting the arrival of her
targets.
The seven vampires were still predators, unable to share. Pushing and
shoving, the mass of demons rushed the seemingly helpless girl. The moment they
got into her range, Kirika charged forward. She planted her two stakes. Two
vampires dusted. She dodged under the horizontal swipe one vampire took at her
with his fist. While she was down, she put her stake through his foot, causing
the creature to scream as his foot was pinned to the floor. Jumping up, the
girl used her left stake to dispose of the vampire charging next to his howling
companion. Using the force of the hit on the dusting vampire, Kirika changed
her motion, rotating back the way she had come.
The young assassin landed in a crouch, pulled her stake, causing
another scream from the vampire, and swiping his legs from under him. The
90-kilogram vampire hit the floor with all the grace and force of a ton of
bricks. Jumping over him, she pushed her stake into his heart in mid-flight.
However, the moment it took the vampire to dust was enough to wrest the stake
from her hand in mid-flight. With liquid grace, she shifted her stake form her
left hand into her right. Being ambidextrous had its advantages, and Kirika
pulled her earlier cross from her left pocket.
She stood up. Only three of the seven vampires remained, among which
were the two who had been dosed with holy water earlier. Slowly, she walked toward
them. The moment the three fiends looked at each other, Kirika got her wish,
and she charged with the speed of lightning and the force of thunder. She
exploded into the nearest vampire’s chest, pushing her stake in, and using the
force of the hit to catapulting her into a circular motion toward the second
one. She pushed the stake into its chest, and was about to withdraw it when the
last vampire suddenly made a move she hadn’t expected.
The last vampire was a turned martial arts instructor. A vampire who
knew karate was a deadly foe, and Kirika found that out the hard way when her
rotational motion was interrupted by a high-kick to her midsection. Four times
human strength exploded into her ribcage, pushing the ejecting the girl against
the wall behind her. With an ‘oomph’ she hit the ground. Kirika pushed herself
up, and saw Mireille start to circle the demon on the other side.
It was at the time that Kirika noticed that something else was moving
in the room.
Xander had followed the two girls silently throughout the house, still
unable to understand what it was they were looking for. He thought they would
go after vampires… he hadn’t expected them to come to Beverly Hills out of all
places, and burglarize a mansion. Not that they weren’t good at it, no… Xander
had seen them take out a multi-million dollar security system in no time.
So, he followed, the throbbing and pulsing in his head requiring more
and more effort to ignore. Right now, it was a chore to breathe, and keep to
his feet, let alone sneak after two girls who obviously knew what they were
doing.
They had reached their destination, obviously… Xander could see them
drawing guns before entering a certain room. He wanted to call out to
them, warn them that bullets had no effect on vampires… but his voice refused
service. He drew a second breath, feeling his vocal cords opening up again, and
he was about to call. But then, their cover would be blown… they would lose the
advantage of surprise.
They screwed on silencers, taking aim at something. Xander’s mind
revolted. That’s not a vampire! The moment the guns discharged, the room
was bathed in light, and a dozen vampires surrounded the girls. Real
vampires. Xander knew it. So did Kirika and Mireille, obviously, as they
dropped their guns and raised stakes. Xander listed flabbergasted to the speech
of the one human, a Japanese man. Xander pulled a small bottle of holy water
from his pack. It was a glass bottle, one he had selected so it could break
easily on impact with a hard surface. Like a vampire’s body. He opened the cap.
Noir? Targets? What is going on
here? And what is this guy doing, using vampires for bodyguards? He could see the indecision of the girls as
they were thinking over their options. Then, he could see something inside
Kirika. The girl was planning something… the moment she moved, Xander saw his
chance. He hefted his bottle, and threw it towards the nearest vampires. The
bottle wasn’t thrown very hard. It didn’t break, yet the rotating motion Xander
had given it caused the contents to be thrown over a wide area. He could see
four vampires steaming and screaming as the holy water burned their skin.
Confusion reigned, and Xander leaned heavily against a wall, out of
sight, just listening. His eyes were closed. He could hear the puffs as the
vampires started falling. And then he heard the popping sound of a silenced
Walther, and the falling of a human body. Xander’s eyes were forced open, and
as if guided by some inner strength he had no idea he possessed, he walked into
the room.
He surveyed the scene. One last vampire was being circled by two
combat-ready women. Mireille looked calm, except for a hint of murderousness in
her eyes. Kirika scared him, however. Her eyes were dangerously narrow, yet for
the rest, not a hint of emotion could be read from her posture. She was
neutral, in every sense of the word.
The vampire in the middle of the two girls was standing in a
Karate-pose. Xander didn’t know martial arts, yet he did know enough from
movies to recognize a dangerous stance when he saw one. He could see that the
creature was distracted, looking at Kirika, while glancing at Mireille every
now and then. Xander had entered from the door, coming in behind the creature’s
back.
He hefted the stake he had jammed into his belt. “Hey shitface.”
The vampire startled, jumped up and around, spinning in mid-air to face
Xander. The moment his feet touched the ground, the creature’s face contorted
into surprise, then pain, before falling into dust.
Kirika and Mireille stared at Xander as he looked at the settling ashes
of the last vampire. Slowly, he looked up. “What is this…” he asking, closing
his eyes, and taking a breath. “Noir?” he asked, voice wavering. When he looked
up at them, his eyes radiated the pain he was trying to control.
“Xander!” Kirika grunted out when she noticed his skin paling, sweat
forming over his face. When he stumbled, she was with him in a second. The
assassin of mere seconds ago was replaced with the girl that had helped him,
nursed him, for the last day. She supported him, settling him down on the
floor. “We’ll talk about that… when we get to the room,” she whispered,
ignoring Mireille’s pointed look. When Kirika had helped Xander to his feet,
and they were shuffling out the door, Mireille couldn’t help but look worriedly
after the duo.
“Stupid boy…” she whispered.
By the time they got back to the suite, Xander had to be carried. While
Kirika tugged him in, Mireille settled for a nearby chair, one hand in front of
her mouth, her posture hunched forward, looking worriedly at the boy who had
helped them out… again. Inwardly, she was berating herself for not finding out
they were being chased, immediately followed by herself kicking herself for not
knowing who had helped them out until he had walked into the room.
A distraction which had no doubt saved them quite a bit of trouble.
Mireille remembered the way the last vampire acted. The blonde’s blue eyes
drifted to Kirika’s smaller form, hunched over Xander, putting a cold compress
to their rescuer’s forehead. Mireille had seen the brunette do things that
looked impossible… but tonight, for one of the few times since she had met the
younger girl, Kirika had seemed scared.
With vividness, she remembered Kirika’s exclamation. I fear that
which I can not kill.
Kirika fell into the chair next to the blonde.
“We should take him to a hospital,” Mireille whispered to her
beaten-looking companion.
“He didn’t want to be taken,” Kirika answered dully. Her usually toneless
voice was even flatter than normal, and it sent shivers down Mireille’s spine.
In the time they had known each other, Mireille and Kirika had gone through
hell and beyond, and nothing had ever fazed the younger girl. And now… in these
two days they had known Xander… Kirika seemed totally and utterly beaten.
“What do you want, Kirika? We need to run… the Yakuza will trace us.”
Kirika shrugged. “So?”
“I know it’s nothing new, but…”
“We were traced by Soldats. We fought Yakuza, the mafia, Intocabile…
the poison woman. I do not fear them,” the brunette grunted coldly, her finger
sliding over the comforting firmness of the Beretta.
Mireille sighed. “I’ll pack our clothes,” she announced while getting
up. Kirika immediately threw her companion an angry look, and opened her mouth
to start her protest. “We’ll take him with us… for now, we’ll just change
hotels. I’ll make arrangements, and rent a car. Too bad it’ll increase us being
traceable, but for the moment, it’ll have to do.”
Kirika looked at her friend’s retreating back. “Mireille.” The taller
woman stopped. “Thank you,” Kirika whispered, looking away, down at Xander’s
body. Mireille just smiled, and disappeared in the bedroom.
“Who are you, Xander Harris?” Kirika whispered. “How were you able to
follow us, where so many have failed? In your condition?” the girl sighed, slid
from her chair onto her knees next to the couch. She put her hands over his.
“It must have been horrible,” the girl said, remaining that way until long
after Mireille had returned, and reclaimed her seat.
Xander winced, and held his throbbing head as the small car shot over a
bump, somewhere in the center of Paris.
“We’re nearly there,” Kirika said comfortingly from the backseat.
Mireille remained quiet, and deftly took another turn, causing Xander to wince
again. He didn’t blame the blonde… everyone in Paris seemed to drive like this.
Like they were possessed. For someone who had grown up in a small town in sunny
California, and whose only big-city experience was the relative easiness of an
American city, Paris seemed like a maze of small roads and smaller road,
over-populated with people who ran through each other like hyper-energetic
ants.
The boy closed his eyes, and not for the first time wished he were back
in his comfortable first-class seat on the airplane. He grunted as his head
suddenly snapped forward when Mireille pushed on the brakes, cussing loudly in
Parisian French, shaking her fist at the driver in front of her. A big male
pushed his head through the side window, and shouted back at the little blue
car they were in.
Mireille rolled down her window, put out her arm, and made the
universal ‘fuck-you’ sign. The man turned red, and Xander was sure the
direct descendant of the mountain gorillas was going to step out of the car and
cause them serious bodily harm. Instead, he retracted his head when Mireille
thumped the horn, shifted into first, and kicked on the accelerator.
The Gorilla’s car accelerated away just in time to avoid a collision.
“Asshole,” Mireille grunted in her trademarked French-accented English.
Xander looked at her, before looking at Kirika for confirmation. The brunette
shrugged.
Guess it’s an everyday
occurrence, Xander thought. He
held his head and winced when the little car shot around yet another bend. Doesn’t
this country know the meaning of ‘straight’? he
asked himself.
Finally, five minutes later, Mireille threw the car into an empty
parking spot. Xander took his backpack, and followed the two girls up the
stairs of the building they had stopped in front of.
Two minutes later, Xander approached a door on the top level, still
following his two hostesses. He emerged into a spacious penthouse, the large
center room arranged around a pool table, around which chairs had been
arranged. Off to the left stood a living room arrangement. In front, behind the
snooker table, Xander could see a set of French Doors leading to a small, yet
tastefully arranged balcony. When he stepped further into the room, he could
see a bathroom and a kitchen off to his right.
Next to the door was a small stairway leading to a raised platform
separated with a small wall that was a spacious bedroom. Xander immediately
felt comfortable, and out of place at the same time. This was the room of the
women Kirika and Mireille, not the duo Noir… which he still didn’t know
anything about, but knew enough tat it was something that daylight didn’t
tolerate.
That, and the room seemed to be laid out for two… in true western
European fashion, Xander didn’t see a guest room. Xander felt like an intruder,
and suddenly regretted taking the girls up on their offer to come with them to
Paris. It had sounded like a good idea at the time, but now that he saw their
home, he didn’t feel so sure anymore.
Mireille put her laptop down on the snooker table, and immediately
connected it. The machine started downloading emails.
“We’ve got some closet space over here,” Kirika said as her older
companion started clicking on emails. She led him to the raised platform, where
Xander deposited his backpack in an empty closet shoved against the far wall.
“Thanks,” he said again, after he closed the door to what he now
realized would be his closet. He winced when his throbbing head picked
up again. He started to grow dizzy again, and Kirika helpfully guided him to
the salon, where he sunk into the large three-seat couch, automatically moving
to lay down. The throbbing lessened now that he closed his eyes, and allowed
himself to relax. It had been a long flight… one had wasn’t sure he had been
ready for. His concussion was healing nicely, but the flight seemed to have
worsened it again.
“Now…” he whispered, knowing well that Kirika had taken one of the
single couched nearby. “What is Noir?” There. He had finally asked it. Too
late, he knew it, but the last week had been so terrible on his constitution he
just hadn’t had the energy to bring up the subject again. A subject the two
girls had seemed more than willing to let rest.
He could hear Kirika sigh. “Noir… Noir is hard to explain. Xander…”
Xander sighed. “Start from the top… I’ve heard some strange things. I
can keep an open mind. Hellmouth-boy, remember?” he asked with a chuckle that
turned into a pained wince.
“Noir is…are…the best in the ‘business’. We take the ‘jobs’ no-one else
wants… or can.”
“What business?” Xander asked, looking at her with a pained expression
in his eyes. “Please don’t use difficult words… my scrambled brain isn’t up to
it.”
Kirika sighed. Quietly, very quietly, she continued, “we’re
killers…assassins…for hire.”
Xander had immediately forgotten all about the pain. The next moment,
he was sitting upright. Another instant later, he was standing on his feet,
backing away from the girl who was looking hurtfully up at him as he stared at
her with an expression of mixed pain, shock, anger, and revulsion. “You…you… what?”
he stammered.
“We’re assassins, Xander… we kill…for money…” Xander’s legs gave, and
he sunk to the floor.
When Kirika got up with a concerned look, he managed to bark, “Stay
away!”
“We would never hurt you, Xander!” the girl whispered forcefully.
“How would I know?” the boy grunted, backing away until he had reach
the corner and couldn’t back away any further. “If someone paid you, would you
kill me, too? Killing is wrong! Destroying demons and vampires is one
thing, but human beings??”
Kirika sighed, sinking into her couch once again. “We’re picky, Xander…
we don’t take just any job… we take those jobs involving crime. Mob bosses,
Yakuza leaders, other assassins, drug barons, big criminals… people who are as
bad as the demons you hunt.”
“Says who?” Xander grunted, vision dimming as
his concussion acted up again under the stress. “Who gave you the right to be
judge, jury, and executioner?”
“Those people remain out the hands of the law,” Kirika said. “They
would never be punished for their crimes… so we do it.”
“And get paid for it,” Xander said flatly.
“So are prison wardens who execute the death sentence in your country,”
Kirika answered. “Xander… I won’t justify what we do. We’re assassins. We kill.
That’s what we do… but know that we only take those jobs that we’re sure of…”
She looked at him. “How is it different from what you do?” she asked. “When a
demon or vampire kills a human, you would hunt it, right?”
“Of course,” Xander replied.
“How about a human? If a human killed another human, and the police
were helpless, wouldn’t you like to see justice happen?”
“A human has a soul! A human can redeem himself!” Xander replied
forcibly. “It’s not up to me to dispense justice!”
“How about if that human was responsible for dozens of deaths?
Hundreds? Or, what if it wasn’t murder, but torture? I’ve seen what drugs can
do to a person, Xander. We’re not going after innocents… we go after people who
have blood on their hands. Liters of it. Their souls, if they still have them,
are black as coal and will go straight to hell. We’re only helping them along.”
Xander’s mouth opened. It closed. He seemed to consider something,
opened it again, and closed it again when another thought struck his head. “Damn…”
he whispered, rubbing his temples. When he opened his eyes once again, he found
Kirika sitting next to him, her hand on his shoulder.
“Come, Xander,” she whispered calmly. “You need some more rest.”
Meekly, he let himself be guided to the couch, where he promptly fell
into, sinking into blissful sleep. Kirika sat down in the single couch opposite
the couch Xander occupied.
“I tried to warn you that he would go berserk,” the blonde whispered as
she sat down in the couch next to Kirika’s. “We should have held this
conversation in Los Angeles.”
“I know… but he’s accepted it now,” Kirika said, causing Mireille to
look at her companion.
“How…?” she whispered.
“I saw it… in his heart, and in his mind… he realized it,” Kirika said.
“He knows… realizes… that humanity has monsters just as bad as the demons he
hunts at night.”
“What are you saying, Kirika? You’re not suggesting what I think you’re
suggesting, are you?”
Xander was standing in the gloomy atmosphere of the Paris Sewer System,
pointing the Walther P99 he could borrow from Mireille at the wall that was
hidden in the shadows. His arms ached, even as he held the gun in both hands,
trying to aim straight. He swallowed with a dry mouth; his system long since
adapted to the continuous putrid smell in the sewer. How did I get involved
in this? Xander asked himself again as he closed one eye, and took aim
along his outstretched arms and over the gun’s sight.
How did I let them convince me?
Why? Xander asked as his finger
twitched on the trigger. The gun bucked in his hands, and Xander let out a
groan as the recoil traveled through his exhausted arms. I’m not a murderer…
I shouldn’t be doing this. Why did I let them convince me to teach me? The
gun bucked again, and Xander shifted his stance slightly, spreading his legs
wider apart to increase his balance.
You had this conversation with
them already! Sometimes it’s necessary! Xander groaned against the small inner voice that tried to reason with
him. Xander squeezed another round form the gun. You need to be prepared for
anything… you never know, the voice finished.
Xander wiped some sweat off his forehead, and retook his stance. How
did they talk me into this? Xander groaned silently as he brought his
leaden arms up, retaking his double-handed hold on the gun.
Behind him, Mireille and Kirika were looking at the shooter. They were
standing far enough away to hold a conversation without Xander overhearing
them.
“He’s good,” Mireille whispered.
Kirika simply nodded, a vague amused expression on her face.
“You knew this, didn’t you?” Mireille asked curtly.
Kirika shrugged. “I had a feeling… but I didn’t have a feeling about
this,” she added the latter shortly after, her eyes widening slightly.
Mireille looked at the boy, and glanced at the far wall, eyes wide open
to capture as much light as possible in the shadows of the sewers.
Xander, meanwhile, was really tired. He could barely keep his eyes
open, and his arms were blocks of sheer pain. Yet as he squinted his eyes to
make out the faint circles painted on the wall, his finger twitched. Growling,
he emptied the semi-automatic gun’s clip into the wall.
“The more tired he is, the better he gets,” Mireille whispered as she
walked towards the boy with Kirika at her side. He dropped the gun into
Mireille’s hands as she stood next to him.
“Very good,” Mireille praised in French. For five seconds, Xander just
stared at her, his mind blown to bits after hours of gun drills and countless
rounds pumped into the wall. Then, his mind connected the dots. From now on,
only French, he remembered. They only speak French to me… and I’d better
respond in kind, or I’ll end up doing punishment drills.
“Merci,” Xander answered in heavily accented French. Thank you.
“You’re getting better every time,” Kirika said from his other side.
“Today, you actually managed to put most of your shots inside the outer
circle.” Xander glanced at the wall, squinting to make out the two circles
drawn on it, creating an improvised bull’s eye.
“J’essaye mon best,” Xander grunted out. I try my best.
“And you’re improving because of it,” Mireille said. “Come, Xander.
It’s time for a shower, and then we’ll have dinner.”
Xander simply nodded, allowing the two to guide him away through the
maze that was the Paris sewers. Smart of them to use the sewers… no-one will
hear them practicing in here. As he saw daylight for the first time in
hours, Xander winced in pain. Dinner… his mind grunted. Food is good.
Then he froze. “Mireille…”
“Yes?”
“You give me lesson, in etiquette, yes?” he asked in horrible French.
But, no matter how bad it was… Xander had to admit he had picked up enough to
express himself, even though his ‘classes’ had started less than two days ago.
No better way to learn a language then being forced to speak one.
“Of course, Xander,” Mireille said with a smirk. “You never know when
it comes in handy to act like a gentleman.”
“But that not me!” Xander protested, his French clipping due to his
emotional state. “I are hungry… you not let go for once?”
Mireille let out her breath. “We’re not going to have this
conversation, Xander. Remember, you agreed to let us teach you. It’s all up to
you… you can still walk out if you want to.”
“But me alone then,” the boy whispered. “In country I not speak
language of.”
Mireille smiled slightly. “I know you’d see it my way.”
Xander groaned. “Yes. I see it your way,” he echoed.
Kirika shot a worried glance at Xander as she walked past his couch on
her way to the kitchen. The boy was twitching and moaning in his sleep again,
caught in the grips of some horrible nightmare. The brunette sadly shook her
head, and disappeared into the kitchen. Five minutes later, the smell of
Kirika’s tea woke up Xander, who dragged himself over to the kitchen.
“Morning,” he grunted as he pushed open the door.
“Morning,” Kirika greeted in her usual flat voice. “Tea?” she offered,
taking a cup and extending it to him. Xander grabbed it as if it were his last
line to sanity.
“I need some,” he grunted as the girl filled the cup. “Thanks,
Kirika.”
She shot him a small smile. “No problem,” she answered as he sipped the
tea and let out a contented moan.
“Oh, yeah, I so needed that.”
“The nightmare again?” Kirika asked sadly as she continued preparing
breakfast.
“Yeah,” Xander grunted, looking at his tea, suddenly having lost all appetite
in it.
“You can talk about it, if you want to,” Kirika offered, half-way
expecting his response. It had been the same answer he had given her for the
last week, ever since he had been well enough to train.
“Not really,” Xander answered levelly, doing his best to keep his voice
from trembling. Somehow Xander wanted to be as emotionally strong as his two
teachers.
Kirika just looked sadly at him as he stared into his cup of tea.
Finally, she looked away and continued breakfast. “Could you go tell Mireille
that breakfast is ready?” Kirika finally asked after the silence had dragged on
and on.
“Sure,” Xander answered, draining his now cold tea in a single drink
and disappearing through the door, already preparing himself for another day of
grueling training he knew was to come.
“Two months already,” Mireille said to her younger companion as they
watched Xander do pull-ups from a thick tree branch. They were in a deserted
area of a relatively unknown park in Paris, and Xander was hanging from the branch,
his arms flexing as he pulled himself up along with the weights attached to his
legs. Both females were dressed in thick winter coats, and Mireille constantly
blew into her gloved hands. Kirika seemed unaffected by the winter weather, the
cold wind, or the snow on the ground.
“It’s incredible,” Kirika said in her usual quiet and soft voice.
“Xander’s progress… he can shoot perfectly. He can strip, clean, repair, and
assemble guns. His physical condition has improved tremendously… but the
mystery remains.”
Mireille nodded as Xander’s ragged breath counted twenty-five. “That
strange body of his… it grows stronger and faster the more exhausted he gets,”
she said, rubbing her hands, and stomping her booted feet on the ground.
The brunette dipped her head in response to Mireille’s statement. “He
needs a push in the right direction… he can become someone incredible. But
Paris is limited.” She looked at the blonde. “He needs experience.”
Mireille snorted. “Good luck trying to get him to go along on a
mission. First, I don’t think he’ll go for it, and second, I’m not so sure I’ll
go for it either. It’s suicide trying to take an inexperienced boy with us on
the types of missions we do.”
Kirika sighed, and nodded. Xander fell from the branch, panting.
Dressed only in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, sweat glistened on his
exposed face and arms. He started putting on a sweater.
“Ten laps today,” Mireille told the boy, who mindlessly snapped a
salute, and jogged off in a certain direction. “And running, no jogging!”
Mireille yelled after him. The rhythm changed, and Xander ran from view.
“And what’s with the salutes?” Mireille grunted.
Kirika shrugged in response. “He doesn’t want to tell,” she whispered,
looking from the direction Xander had disappeared in, shifting to her
companion. “Mireille… I want to give Xander some experience.”
Mireille snapped to Kirika, her face surprised. “How?” she asked,
shocked.
“The Mansion… it still exists… and now that I remember…remember what
Althena did…”
Mireille grabbed the girl by her arms and shook her. “Are you insane?”
the aristocrat demanded. “That place still gives you nightmares! And now
you want to take Xander there? Have you lost your mind?”
Kirika shook her head, breaking from the grip. “Xander… I know Xander
can handle it. And it needs to be done.”
Mireille snorted. “For what? Xander’s never going to be an assassin. He
leaves the room every time we bring it up. He’s accepted what we are, but he
has problems with it being in his face. There is no way he’ll agree to come
with you for training in the… whatever it is those assholes trained you in.”
Kirika looked at the ground. “The arts of assassination… martial arts,
weaponry, poisons, medicine, first aid, meditation… Xander will agree.” The
girl looked up. “He will agree once he learns that it is useful in his fight
against vampires and demons. I think not even a vampire will be much of a
threat with a knife jammed in its eyes, its neck snapped, it kneecaps
shattered, its…”
“I get the point,” Mireille grunted. “Fine. Suggest it to him, if you
have to… but I’m not going with you. After last time I was there, I know that
one visit was more than enough for me.”
Kirika sighed sadly, and looked at the tree Xander had been using as
gym apparatus. “It was my home for all those years,” she whispered sadly.
“Althena was my mother…” she shook her head, putting a plastic smile on her
face as she turned to Mireille. “It will be good to see it used for something
positive. Teaching Xander to fight the underworld… it feels right to me.”
Mireille sighed once more. “He still has to agree,” she said with a
chuckle. “But, as I said, I won’t be joining you. If you want to do this, I
won’t stop you, but I won’t be coming.”
“Thank you, Mireille,” Kirika said, her smiling less forced with her
companion’s permission.
Xander refused to show his exhaustion as he walked next to Kirika along
a deserted mountain road. To the best of his knowledge, they were somewhere on
the Austrian-Italian border, way up in the mountains. With a half-jealous look,
Xander’s eyes shifted to Kirika, who effortlessly trekked further up the track
with her backpack firmly on her shoulders.
While he was fingering the straps of his pack where they dug into his
shoulders, going to considerable effort not to pant too much in the thinning
air. They rounded a corner, and Xander forgot all about exhaustion, thin air,
and the difference in physical condition between himself and Kirika.
They had entered a small village. A village to which Xander hadn’t read
a name plate, nor any references to. And, it was completely deserted. As the
duo walked through the deserted town in total silence, Xander’s eyes scanned
from left to right, while Kirika just stared sadly at the ground moving beneath
her feet. Suddenly, Xander jumped a couple of paces back.
“Is…that…?” he asked, motioning silently to something further along the
road. Kirika’s eyes grew sadder still, and the girl gave a quiet nod. Again in
silence, the duo continued to walk, Xander feeling a growing apprehension rise within
the pit of his stomach. The thing on the road grew larger, the shape roughly
human. They passed the corpse in total silence, Xander’s body shaking with
emotions over what he saw. He wished they had the time to stop.
When they crossed into the town square, Xander stopped. Kirika or no
Kirika, Xander couldn’t hold out much longer as he dropped his pack, bent over,
and vomited.
Kirika stared with sad eyes at the decomposing bodies in the town
square. Finally, Xander’s stomach was empty and the dry-heaving soon stopped.
He righted himself, and stared in revulsion at the scene of carnage.
“What…happened?” he asked, voice choking.
Kirika was silent for a few moments, and Xander practically thought she
hadn’t heard him when she finally answered, “Soldats.”
“Soldats?” Xander asked.
Kirika nodded once. “We need to go…” she said, looking at the setting
sun. “It’s still a couple of hours to the mansion… and we need to be there
before nightfall.”
“But…” Xander started, motioning for the bodies.
“Soldats,” Kirika repeated again, a colder edge to her voice. “We need
to go Xander.”
Xander swallowed, and nodded. He only knew Kirika’s sweet, quiet, shy
attitude and soft voice. To hear her tone contain a cold edge, to hear her
speak with a cold, decisive manner was truly frightening for Xander, stunning
him into silence and compliance. As they trekked further, Xander’s mind had to
force itself to keep going, his thoughts flashing to the nightmares of the
Vietnam veteran he now had. It was the same senseless slaughter, the same waste
of life, and it filled Xander’s heart with revulsion.
He hadn’t noticed that they had left the town until Kirika stopped them
near a dozen bodies, scattered on and next to the road, shielded under some
trees. Solemnly, Kirika bent her head, and Xander actually thought she was
praying when he heard the soft words, “You once saved my life… thank you…” with
those quiet words, Kirika looked up and resumed her walk, Xander following
behind, his mind filled with puzzles. Puzzles he desperately wanted to ask
answers to, answers he knew he had no right to have. As long as he kept his own
secrets, he wasn’t entitled to theirs.
“We’re there,” Kirika stated after an unidentifiable amount of time.
Xander blinked; eyes focusing on the real world once more. He looked out over a
straight earthen path, leading through a large vineyard to the ruin of what was
without a doubt once a spacious mansion at the end of the path. Drawing in a
breath of mountain air, Xander glanced around, taking in the secluded plateau
in between the mountains. It was below the snowline, towering mountains framing
the plateau like large granite guardians. The place was beautiful.
Only now did he realize that Kirika had already resumed her walk, and
Xander jogged after her to catch up. As he neared, Xander could see ancient
Roman columns rising to the sky, the roof they once supported long since gone.
The mansion itself was nothing more than a ruin… built somewhere a long time
ago, Xander figured. History was never his strong suit.
Kirika turned, and walked along the ruins, with Xander following her,
staring in unbridled curiosity at the ruins. For the most part, it looked as if
the ground floor was still intact… with only a minor interruption here and
there. It even looked as if some of the second floor had survived as well.
Finally, they entered the ruins through a non-descript door.
As the door slammed shut behind him, a stark darkness descended upon
them, and Xander could faintly see Kirika reach out in a practiced manner,
grabbed something from a second something that was nearby, but out of the reach
of Xander’s eyes. He saw her flick a lighter out of her pocket, and with a
single motion of her hand, light the three candles in the three-sponged
candlestick. She’s done this before, Xander noted sarcastically, seeing
her light three candles in one continuous motion.
The yellow-burning candles cast eerie shadows as they walk, and more
than once Xander jumped away from one wall or another as they walked. Kirika
descended a flight of ancient stairs, deeper into the bowels of Mother Earth.
Xander followed, all his instincts on edge. Whatever this was, it was not
a good place. Years of fighting vampires had instilled strong instincts of the
supernatural, and this place sent them all ballistic.
They entered a cavernous hall, supported by columns similar to the ones
he had seen outside. The room looked like the center hall of a cathedral, yet
Kirika paid no attention to it. Xander followed, still gaping at this entire
place. When he had first seen the ruins, he had never suspected that the real
building was under the ground. Finally, they came to an elaborate set of metal
double doors. Kirika halted in front of them, giving Xander a good chance to
study the carvings on the doors. On each door, a woman was depicted, facing
each other, kneeling to one knee, holding up swords in a ritualistic manner.
Behind them, carved over the joining of the metal, a third woman was depicted,
holding one hand over her heart, looking down at the kneeling figures in some
saintly fashion.
“Xander… this is your last
chance,” the girl said, having resumed her normal mode of speech. “Say so, and
we’ll go back upstairs, have a good rest, and return tomorrow… but if you chose
to stay, there’s no going back.”
Xander swallowed; something in her words set his instincts on edge. He
squared his shoulders. “No. No, I chose to stay. I’m tired of being a nobody… I
want to be able to contribute.”
Kirika looked at him, her eyes filled with an odd mixture of pain,
sadness, and pity, before she nodded. “Then this will be your first night.
Enter this chapel, and spend the night here. It will give you insight into who
and what you are, your motives, strengths, weaknesses, desires, and wishes.”
Xander nodded, and reached for the doors of the chapel, already
doubting his ability to push those huge things open. Kirika intercepted his
arm. “It isn’t pretty… actually… it’s quite painful,” she warned him, a strange
sense of compassion in her oddly colored red eyes. “I can only leave you the words
Althena left me… Accept. Do no fight, or it will drive you insane.”
Xander took a breath, steeled himself, and smiled. “Thanks,” he said,
reaching for the doors, and throwing them open. They actually moved quite
easily. Resolutely, he strode inside, refusing to look behind him where he
could feel Kirika’s gaze burning in his back. Only when he heard the door fall
into the lock, and the subsequent locking of said lock, did Xander look up from
the marble-tiled floor.
He was in a small chapel, able to hold fifty, maybe a hundred people,
tops. At the front stood the white marble altar, complete with white cloth,
gold cup and gold scale for the hosts. Xander’s gaze traveled further, to the
intricate marble carved far wall, depicting a scene from the Passion, or so
Xander thought. His knowledge on the Christian faith not extending far past
‘crosses repel vampires’.
Up his eyes traveled, to a colored window. Immediately, it grabbed
Xander’s attention, and held it there. Xander knew he should be expecting a scene
from some Saint or other. Instead, he saw a glass version of the carvings on
the door. Only, because of light shining through them, the entire scene seemed
more alive to Xander. He briefly wondered on how light came through that
window, since they were deep under ground, yet he soon dismissed it as his
thoughts dwindled, focusing solely on the scene on the window.
He stared at it until the sun had long since set, and he couldn’t avert
his gaze until the first beams of moonlight penetrated through the vividly
colored glass, casting red, blue, and green shadow throughout the chapel.
“This is crazy,” Xander whispered, sitting down on the front row. “It’s
just a church.” He looked around to the beautifully decorated Catholic chapel.
“A nice church, but still a church.”
Out of nowhere, music played, sounding like a dozen male voices singing
Gregorian hymns to the sound of a growling organ. Xander jumped up. “Who’s
there?”
Xander stared around him for a good thirty seconds during which no
answer came, yet the music continued. “Kirika, this isn’t funny!” Again, there
was no change in the music or the performance of the Gregorian singers. Xander
smiled slightly. “I come from a demon-infested, vampire-loaded town built on
top of the Hellmouth. You don’t scare me with some music, Kirika,” he whispered
to himself. “Let’s see… where are your speakers?”
He walked to the altar, and looked down the center lane of the small
chapel, getting his bearings straight on the layout. Still smiling slightly,
Xander walked slowly through the church, examining every nook and cranny,
revealing exactly nothing. No speakers, no wires, no nothing. Xander didn’t
even find any indication that the room even had electricity.
Then he remembered Kirika lighting candles on their way in, and a creepy
feeling wormed its way up Xander’s spine. The feeling of danger he had felt
before entering the chapel returned, and Xander sat down on the front row
again, the music continuing incessantly.
“It’s just a church. I’ve been in churches before. I’ve heard music
before. Nothing to be scared of,” Xander said, unconsciously pulling up his
legs and throwing his arms around them. “I grew up in Vamp Central. Some music
doesn’t scare me. It doesn’t. It doesn’t scare me.”
The song seemed to approach, as if the singers were slowly coming toward
him. Xander’s head snapped up, and he jumped away from the bench, staring down
the aisle. What he saw made his heart jump, do a summersault in mid-flight, and
land in a perfect grade-A dismount. Half a dozen men in pitch black frocks were
striding down the aisle toward him.
Xander froze on the spot when he saw thee hoods of the frocks were
empty. Incessantly approaching, the ghost-monks didn’t seem to take notice of
him as they sang and shuffled toward the altar. Xander continued to stare as
the ghostly music resounded in his ears, driving deep within him, touching, probing…
confusing. The lead monk had nearly reached Xander by now, and the boy was sure
he could reach out and touch the apparition.
Xander’s body refused to move as the monks’ song seemed to paralyze his
very thought processes, and Xander’s heart stopped when the lead monk reached
him. Instead of stopping, the ghostly figure kept right on walking… through
Xander’s body. The moment the human boy and the ghost from beyond touched,
Xander screamed.
Kirika had watched the door for a few moments, before turning and
walking away. Her path illuminated by the three dancing candles, the brunette
walked solemnly away from where Xander had now been locked in. I hope you
survive, Xander… that is the most dangerous part of the training. You must
accept who you are before you can push yourself to your very limits. She
closed her eyes and drew a breath before continuing. It’s also one of the
most painful things you’ll ever experience. I know.
With those thoughts, she walked up the stairs, leaving Xander to the
underground church. Once she reached the ground level, Kirika made her way
through the maze of the ruined mansion, to where her room was… or rather, had
been. She opened the heavy oak door, and drew the first breath of the familiar
air from her room: the scent of the wooden beams of the roof, the smell of her
bed, her closet, and of the ancient stone. But above all, the permeating smell
of death that hung like a thick fog throughout the entire building.
Kirika sighed a little sadly as she made her way to her closet. From
it, she took a thick and heavy dark green robe. Shedding her clothes, the girl
dressed in the green robe she had once received from the villagers. First I
make my round… then I’ll return to Xander, the girl’s mind whispered as she
turned and closed the massive door behind her.
Kirika left the ruins of the main mansion, and disappeared into its
gardens. Taking a small mountain path, she soon reached a second plateau,
hidden from the main one that held the mansion. The small path led to a wide
road framed with ancient Roman columns and remains of what used to be supported
by them. Kirika sighed, closed her eyes, and drew in a fresh breath of clean
and untainted mountain air.
Finally, the girl opened her eyes. She walked slowly to the end of the
gallery, emerging into the remains of a circular roman temple. In the exact
center, on a huge slab of stone lay a body, just as badly decomposed as the
bodies in the village. Kirika stood silent, sad dark-red eyes resting on the
peaceful-looking deceased form.
“I’m back…” she whispered to the corpse. “I’m sorry… Chloe.” With those
sad words, Kirika left the circular enclosure through a different path than the
one she had first taken to get there. The girl wandered through a maze of
ancient stonework walls, eyes automatically locking onto small holes in the
walls.
I fought Mireille… to the
death… the girl’s eyes grew
suspiciously moist. How far they managed to drive me. I was actually ready
to take the vows as Noir. She halted, and looked at the starry skies. Thank
you, Mireille… For everything. She looked straight ahead. This is all in
the past, and now someone depends on me as I used to depend on Mireille. She
may not understand, but I do… Xander needs my help, and I will do the best job
I can. Resolutely, she started walking through the maze. The walk became a
trot, then a jog, which evolved into a run. Running as only she could, Kirika
flashed through the maze and emerged next to the mansion.
Barely bothering to take a candle-stick near the entrance, the girl ran
through total darkness until she reached the metal doors of Xander’s
confinement. She sat the candle stick down, the unlit white candles her only
companions as she stood fully erect, watching the doors. “I am here, Xander.
You have nothing to fear.”
The girl heard a blood-curling scream from inside the chapel. “It’s
begun,” she whispered. “Good luck, Xander. Only the strong survive… and
something tells me that you’re stronger than most.”
Meanwhile, inside the chapel, Xander felt as if he were being eaten
alive, and in some way, he was. When the psychic manifestation touched him, a
part of himself that Xander had always kept contained, opened. Memory upon
memory, pain upon pain, thought upon thought slammed into his mind, and Xander
let out a second scream.
The next instant, a falling sensation overcame him, pulling Xander away
from reality as he knew it and plunging him into a world of inky darkness. Even
though he saw nothing, he was still aware… aware of motion, of people around
him. He knew that there were others… and he knew that this couldn’t be good
when the hairs at the base of his neck stood up.
The darkness filled with silver-gray fog, and the transition was so
fast that Xander had to blink three times before he realized it. The fog
cleared as suddenly as it had appeared, and the boy now found himself in a
thick jungle. A jungle he knew almost by heart by now… the jungle from his
nightmares.
“You really are worthless, aren’t you?” a figure asked, emerging
from the thick brush, stepping toward him with a dark look on his face. “No
worries… I’ll show you how to be strong.”
“Oh god…” Xander whispered as he recognized the figure.
The man he was facing was no-one but himself… dressed in combat
fatigues.
Kirika remained outside those large double doors for hours, listening
to the screams, wincing at the occasional scream that was worse than the
others, hoping for the sanity of her friend. Finally, the crying, pleading,
begging and screaming diminished before slowly dying out. Kirika remained
there, waiting for those few extra minutes to be sure that things were
over.
The girl drew a breath, and pushed open the doors. Her heart stopped
when she saw a lone figure, curled into a fetal position in front of the altar.
Xander wasn’t moving.
Holding her breath, she hurled herself across the length of the chapel,
skidding down on her knees to a stop next to him. She let out a breath of relief
when she saw him breathing calmly.
“Asleep…” she whispered, sitting upright. “That’s a good sign, Xander…
have a good night’s rest.” Kirika stood up, and retrieved the candles. Putting
the yellow dancing flames down next to the boy, Kirika shot him a relieved look
before disappearing to get some blankets.
Xander pulled one eye open. The small chapel greeted his sleep-blurred
vision. Slowly, Xander cranked his second eye open, and forced himself to sit
upright. His entire body felt sore. Every muscle protested, every tendon
pulled, and even his very joints and bones seemed to ache. Xander let out a low
moan. Slowly, the events of the previous night returned to him, yet as painful
as they had been previously, now he was able to look at them detachedly.
“That was some night,” he groaned. He startled slightly when a smaller
yet more powerful form sat down next to him, extending an authentic earthwork
mug of steaming hot tea. Xander gratefully accepted the rough cup and drank
greedily. The hot liquid seemed like an injection of energy to his worn out
body and battered mind.
“You survived, Xander,” Kirika whispered evenly, smiling slightly at
seeing him drain the tea.
“Does that mean I get what’s behind door number 2?” Xander asked with a
slight grin as he pulled the mug from his starving lips. Kirika cocked her
head, smiling in quiet acceptance.
“It’s a good sign… your sense of humor… most people don’t survive the
night with their sanity,” the girl said, standing up. “Come, Xander… it’s time to
begin your training.”
Xander let out another groan as he forced himself to his legs, grabbing
the sheets off the ground on his way up. “Could you first show me a shower? I
think I’ll need a long hot one,” he said, shooting her a slight grin.
“We have a shower… but it’s not what you’re used to,” Kirika answered
quietly.
“A shower’s a shower,” Xander answered. “Lead the way, o teacher of
mine.”
Kirika smiled slightly, then motioned. “This way,” she said, leading
him through the maze of the ruined mansion. They emerged on an open clearing
sporting an authentic medieval well, with the small brickwork circular wall,
the heavy wooden buckets and the rope and pulley system to pull the buckets up.
She dropped the bucket down into the crystal-clear water, then with precise and
practiced movements reeled it up.
“The shower,” Kirika said, motioning for the bucket. Xander stared.
“That’s your shower?” Xander asked, eyes wide in surprise.
Kirika nodded. “This mansion stems from the medieval times… It is a
place forgotten by time. We don’t have electricity, running water, indoor
plumbing, gas, or anything else. We cook on a simple woodstove, which doubles
for heating, and candles are illumination at night.”
Xander stared at the bucket. “Great. Oh, well… when in Rome…”
“Here’s the soap,” Kirika said, extending a cube of what looked like a
pale white substance of something that smelled like soap. Xander accepted it.
“I’ll go make some breakfast… then I’ll show you around and we can
begin our training,” Kirika said, turning to leave. “I’ll be back in about ten
minutes. In case you want to hide again.” With those words, she was gone.
Xander smiled sarcastically. “Nothing wrong with a good sense of
modesty,” he grunted as he started to disrobe. “I know she has none, but does
she really have to rub it in that much?”
Later that day, after a breakfast of some meats and vegetables Xander
didn’t recognize, and a grand tour which took about three hours, Xander and
Kirika entered a small non-descript room.
“Jesus!” Xander cursed, slamming his hand before his mouth and nose.
“What is this place?”
“Many a life ended here…” Kirika whispered sadly. “This place reeks of
death even worse than the rest of the mansion. Don’t worry… we won’t be
spending any time here. I don’t intend to train you for ever.”
“Hey! I should be insulted by that, shouldn’t I?” Xander protested.
“It’s a simple necessity…” Kirika replied evenly. “It took me 12 years
to be where I am now. I don’t intend to give you more than the basics, which
accounts to about a month… Mireille has done an equitable job in training you.
Endurance, shooting, so forth… I intend to merely be teaching you how to
survive psychologically and physically, and how to use your environment to its
fullest. Mireille is good… very good… but she is limited to her gun. You, as
someone who will be going up against opponents of unimaginable power, will need
to learn how to use the environment. Sometimes, a gun isn’t enough…”
“Like with vampires,” Xander said.
“Exactly,” Kirika answered. “But think beyond stakes… sometimes,
disabling before you can win can be the only way. What if you stabbed your
stake through the vampire’s eye? Or a silver knife through its knee? A kick to
the genitals?”
“Hey, I can do that,” Xander said.
“Yes… everyone can do that. But can you fight?” Kirika asked. “If it
came down to it, can you fight with a stake in your hand? Can you draw a knife
and have a knife fight with it?”
Xander shrugged. “A vampire is dumb… they rely on their strength and
speed to win.”
Kirika drew a knife from somewhere, and engaged him. Before
Xander knew what had happened, he was flat on his back, her knife at his
throat, her body sitting on top of his chest, her legs pinning his arms to his
sides. “If I can do it, then how easy wouldn’t it be for a vampire to do the
same? And, contrary to me, a vampire doesn’t pull its punches.”
“Hey… that’s not fair!” Xander grunted. “I just told you that a vampire
doesn’t use knives!”
“But what if one did? At the house of the Yakuza that employed
vampires, there was a martial arts master who had been turned. He was quite a
challenging opponent,” Kirika returned calmly, remaining in her position with
her knife at Xander’s throat. He was about ready to piss his pants from fear.
“A one in a million…” he whispered, before asking fearfully, “could
you… remove that thing from my neck, please?”
“The difference between a good warrior and a great
warrior is being prepared for that on in a million chance,” the brunette assassin
whispered, sitting up, before standing. “Now do you understand?”
Xander sat up from the ground, looking up at his young teacher. “I…I
understand. I never thought I’d say this, but I actually get that.”
Kirika nodded in satisfaction, and extended her hand. Xander grabbed
it, and once again amazed himself at the strength with which she pulled him to
his feet. “Are you ready for your first lesson?” she asked.
Xander shrugged, and grinned. “Sure. Bring it on!” Then, he grimaced, rubbed
his sore butt where it had collided violently with the ground, and said, “I
just hope that it doesn’t hurt that much…”
Kirika shook her head in quiet amusement. It was hard not to be amused
by someone like Xander. “The first lesson… and one of the hardest to learn… is
the fear of death.”
“Huh?” Xander asked stupidly.
“You’ll need to get rid of it,” Kirika said. “Fighting without a fear
of death will keep you from being nervous about dying… as such; you’ll be able
to keep a level head when balancing on the tightrope of demise. Don’t get me
wrong… fear of death is different from desire to live. The desire to live will
keep you alive. The fear of death will only slow you down.”
Xander’s chin must have scraped over the ground, or so he thought. “Eh…
I don’t think I get that.”
“No-one does… at first,” Kirika answered. “Xander, why do you fear
death?”
“Eh… because I don’t want it to happen to me soon?” he asked.
“And why is that?”
“I don’t know!” Xander shouted. “Why does someone fear death?”
“Exactly,” Kirika answered. “Ignorance. You fear that which you don’t
know… tell me, why do suicide-bombers strap bombs to their bodies, and detonate
themselves without hesitation?”
Xander simply shrugged.
“Because they have convinced themselves that they know the afterlife,”
Kirika answered for him. “Either through religion, or through the notion ‘this
is for the greater good’, they have convinced themselves that whatever happens
afterward, is better. That is why such people are tremendously dangerous… they
hold no fear of death. They hold the psychological advantage. What you must do
is hold that same advantage. You must have a desire to keep on living, but not
hold a fear to end it right here and now should the necessity arise.”
“Great… but that still doesn’t tell me how we’re going to get rid of
it. Unless you’re planning on dumping some religious brainwashing in my head?”
Xander asked the latter with a cheerfully smiling tone to his voice.
“There are techniques,” Kirika started, turning away from him to look
at the sun. She took a breath. “That’s why I first had you go through the
church… that experience has unlocked your subconscious potential. Now all we
have to do is drill into it that death is not something to be afraid of… and
there may come a time when you need to use these same techniques to drill into
your subconscious that your life means nothing, that you will use your life in
exchange for your goals.” She turned back to him. “But let’s not get ahead of
ourselves. The technique is a sort of meditation technique. Follow me, Xander.”
“Sure,” he whispered, following the girl into the bowels of the
mansion. Soon, they emerged into a small and empty room. Kirika put the
three-pronged chandelier down in the middle, and sat down at one side. She
motioned for Xander to take the place on the other side. As he did so, she blew
out the left and right candles, leaving only the middle one to cast its dancing
shadow through the room.
“Look into the flame,” she instructed. “You will see three parts: the
golden flaming upper part, the blue middle part, and a spot of absolute
darkness… stare into the dark center part, and envision that emptiness is your
mind, and just let things come as they come. What you’ll see will come from
your subconscious mind. Don’t try to force the images, don’t try to understand
or reason about them. Clear your mind and just let the images and thoughts form
on their own.”
Xander stared; not really believing anything would come but willing to
go along with it anyway. After all, it obviously meant a lot to Kirika, so why
shouldn’t he try and see? Stranger things had happened then staring into a
flame and seeing your subconscious. Like ghost monks who show you the real you.
Xander shivered slightly at the memory. Six monks… six different sides to him.
It wasn’t pretty, like Kirika had warned him.
Xander blinked and refocused on the flame, forcing his mind to clear.
He couldn’t help but think about last night. It had hurt so much… Xander shook
his head to clear the cobwebs. He heard Kirika say something on the background,
but it sounded vague and unreal. Instead of breaking his mind on trying to
figure out what she was saying, Xander focused on the flame, which seemed to
grow with every passing moment.
Clear your mind. Focus on the
darkness of the flame. Clear your mind. Focus on the darkness of the flame. Over and over Xander repeated his mantra,
until he suddenly felt a falling sensation, and the darkness of the flame was
all around him. His entire world, the entire reality around him was nothing but
that darkness. And then the visions came.
“You left me, Xander,” Buffy’s voice cried from somewhere, forcing him
to spin around in search of it.
“You left us,” a second voice piped in, again from behind him. Willow’s
voice. Xander spun again, looking from left to right to up and down in this
strange place that held no particular direction. Everywhere he looked it was
the same all-encompassing darkness.
“To the vampires,” Buffy picked up again. “Without you there, who would
help me fight the vampires?”
“You didn’t need me!” Xander screamed. “All I was to you was the clown
who fetched donuts!”
“Your humor kept us going,” Willow said sadly from somewhere. Xander
had stopped spinning after a terrible vertigo had set in, and now he was just
sitting on an invisible floor. “And everyone needs something to eat… we greatly
appreciated you doing that.”
“And then you left,” Buffy grunted. “You left me, and Will, and Giles…
what kind of friend are you?”
“I had to leave… I couldn’t go on… not with the way they had been
treating me,” Xander whispered.
“You could have come to us!” Buffy screamed. “Talked to us! Told us
what was happening, and we might have been able to help you!”
“You’ve slept at my house before! My parents wouldn’t have objected!”
Willow added in, her beautifully smooth voice showing a rise in tone for the
first time since Xander had known her. It was not a good experience.
“And then what?” Xander growled, standing upright even though
his vertigo still hadn’t settled. He looked angrily at the darkness. “I would
have become another burden? You, Buff, you claimed you want me around to help
with the vampires, yet you never let me go on patrol with you. And you, Will,
claim I was a help, yet you’re the smart one. You’re the hacker and the
intelligent one. You do the research, and the computer mojo. I was of no help
at all. Admit it. You miss having someone around who makes you laugh. Well,
sorry for that, but that’s not who I am! I wanted to help. Really help.
And I couldn’t. So I got off the Sunnydale Express Line to Hell, and decided
not to board again until I was good and ready to be that help.”
The two voices were quiet.
Kirika looked at Xander, who was staring intently at the flame, lost it
seemed in a world of his own worst nightmares. His brown eyes were swimming in
moisture, tears streaked down his face and his entire expression was as if he
was seeing loved ones die. Then, he shook his head, and looked up, at her.
“Are you alright?” Kirika asked, her voice showing as much concern as
she was comfortable expressing.
Xander smiled weakly. “I guess that night did help… I think I’ve just
quieted down some demons of the past…”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Kirika said. “It’s personal. But… it is a
good thing to let go of the past. What has happened, has happened. There is no
changing it. Feeling the weight of the past will only slow you down. It’s a
good step you’ve taken, Xander. Do you want to try again, or do you want to
rest for a while?”
Xander looked at the small flame. “I made a promise to myself,” he
said. “I promised myself to return one day, and to continue my fight against
darkness as someone who is actually capable of fighting.” He looked at her with
a small smile that was growing in sincerity. “I think I’ll go in for another
round.”
Kirika nodded, and set in her own pose once more. She was faintly aware
of Xander’s mind phasing out again before the darkness encompassed her with the
practiced manned of over a decade of training. Tomorrow, her last
thoughts were. Tomorrow I’ll teach him not to need the flame anymore… and
then I’ll show him how to program his subconscious.
After an intense day of deep subconscious meditation, Xander finally
called it a day when the sun started to set. Kirika guided him back to the
well, and started hauling up buckets of the nice, clean, ice-cold water.
Then, Xander got the shock of his life when she dropped the green robes
she was wearing, folded the garment neatly, then removed her underwear, folded
them, and dumped a bucket of cold water over her head, after which she started
soaping up her body. Xander’s mouth was on the floor for a good half a minute
before he managed to speak.
“K…Kirika?”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Hm?” she asked, having been
thinking about something.
“I…eh…think I’ll be next,” he grunted, turning and starting to leave.
“Why,” she asked, the tone of her voice clearly showing that she really
had no idea why he would leave. “There is plenty of water, and I am almost done
with the soap.”
Xander turned to face her. Big mistake, as Kirika had turned by now and
he was greeted by an unimpaired view of her beautiful body. Her beautiful naked
body. His every male instinct was fighting his mind over keeping his eyes
limited to her face. “Eh…eh… this isn’t exactly… how things are done… men and
women…bathing together… you know.”
Kirika cocked her head slightly. “I don’t know,” she whispered sadly.
“But, if it makes you feel better, you wait until after I’m done.” She grabbed
the second bucket, and dumped it over her head to wash the soap off. She
grabbed a rough towel, and started toweling herself off. Xander’s mind had long
since forgotten about leaving, and he just stared as the brunette got back in
her clothes. “There. Your turn,” she said levelly.
He continued to stare at her. “Is something wrong, Xander?” she finally
asked when she saw he made no moves to disrobe.
“Eh… aren’t you leaving?” he asked.
“Why?” she asked in honest confusion once again. “You saw me wash… you
didn’t seem to mind that much.”
Xander swallowed. “Maybe I should wash tomorrow,” he muttered, starting
to turn to the mansion. He felt an iron hand on his shoulder.
“You’re not coming to dinner unless you’re washed, Xander. Personal
hygiene is very important,” the girl admonished. Xander let out a groan, and,
totally defeated, disrobed and washed as quickly as he could, intensely aware
of the young brunette following his every move.
Xander ran through the maze of walls, his gun at the ready, sweeping
left and right. He closed his eyes, and took a breath. His mind entered the
place of darkness easily now. “The far end,” he whispered into his
subconscious. “Take me there, and avoid Kirika.” He re-opened his eyes, and
squinted slightly. His grip on the gun tightened. He looked to his right,
jumped up from where he had squatted, and made a run for it.
His instincts were hyper-active, and Xander could feel the beginnings
of a headache coming up. He always had a major headache after exercises like
these… it came with the territory of having your senses and your instincts go
into overdrive. The human mind wasn’t built to handle this much data for
extended periods of time.
Xander dodged to the left, just in time to feel a bullet strike the
ground on the position he had just vacated. He lifted his gun, spun around, and
rolled over the ground, firing bullets in the direction he had just come from.
As usual, he saw nothing. She is so fast! Xander jumped up, and dove
into an opening on his right, emerging in yet another long corridor. Xander
took a turn left and started running again.
Bullets bit into the wall on his left, and Xander dove to the wall on
the right. She’s on the wall! He readied his gun, preparing to take a
shot. He dove forward, and rolled on his back to aim for Kirika. He found
nothing but empty air.
The young warrior jumped up, and bit off a curse as he started running
again. He dove into an opening on his left. He heard something behind him, and
Xander spun around, instinctively flattening his back again the wall to
minimize the size of the target he formed. He saw nothing. Xander stepped away
from the wall, now facing the direction he had heard something from.
Immediately, he felt something behind him. He started to spin around,
only to feel a cold metallic object bite into his neck. Xander groaned, rolled
over the floor, and looked with blurring vision up at Kirika, who was pointing
her Beretta at him. A bullet struck the floor on the right and on the left of
his head. “Twenty-five seconds. You’re improving,” Kirika said, putting her gun
in its holster and extending her hand to help Xander up.
“I still haven’t made it, though,” the boy whispered miserably.
“It’s unlikely you ever will,” Kirika answered. “Twelve years of
experience will do that to you…”
Xander just sighed sadly, and put the spare Beretta in the holster on
his hip. Kirika looked at him as he sadly kicked up the dirt on their way back
to the mansion.
“I know it hurts you, Xander… but that is how things are,” the girl
whispered. “I have not had a normal upbringing… I would trade all my advantages
to grow up like any normal person. Yet, I can not, so I must use what I have
been given, and hope something good comes from it.”
Xander nodded absentmindedly, and the duo walked in silence until they
had reached the well. Xander helped Kirika haul up the buckets of water. Soon,
they had disrobed and were washing themselves. After a good three and a half
weeks, Xander no longer had any problems with bathing together with Kirika.
After the bath, they went to the small kitchen, where, under the light
of flickering candles, they cleaned their guns before starting dinner. Xander
had learned to appreciate the strange medieval way of cooking Kirika used while
in the mansion, and now he was actually looking forward to it. After dinner,
they retreated to their rooms.
Yet Xander couldn’t find sleep. After hours of fruitlessly trying to
sleep, Xander was sitting upright in his bed, with legs crossed. He closed his
eyes, and willed himself to enter the meditation trance.
“I want to win. If only for once, I want to win,” he told his
subconscious. The darkness thickened slightly, something it did not often do.
Usually it meant that he was demanding something that was just that little bit
too much. Yet, this time, the darkness continued to thicken, to the point where
Xander was afraid he wouldn’t be able to breathe anymore.
Two figures emerged from the darkness, which not started morphing into
something else entirely. Xander found himself in a clearing in a jungle somewhere,
along with his two new companions.
One was the Xander in the military fatigues he had met as the first
figure during his night in the chapel. The second figure was also him, yet a
him with amber eyes which were constantly scanning the vicinity.
“We have created a balance,” the military Xander said.
“Must not upset,” the amber-eyed Xander added coldly. “You don’t want
that to happen, don’t you pretty boy?”
Xander Prime scowled. “You two. I should have known. And to what do I
own this ambiguous pleasure of seeing you two again? Even though I see you
every night in my nightmares,” he grunted the last at military-Xander.
“You demanded it,” Military-Xander said. “So here we are. You want to
beat someone who clearly isn’t normal. So, you’ll need to upset the balance we
built that night.”
Xander grunted something.
Amber-eyed Xander nodded. “That’s what I thought. You’re a pansy. Scared to death of possession.” He shrugged,
and smiled evilly. “Fine. Then not. See ya later, pussy.” With those words, he
vanished.
“You’ve made the right choice, Xander. Things like these shouldn’t be
messed with unless the situation requires it. We’ve got a balance that works
out. No need to upset it unless the world is coming to and end.” He grinned at
his own words, and vanished.
Xander opened his eyes in the real world. “Damn,” he grunted. “I must
be the only guy who gets scolded at by his own subconscious.” He scowled
slightly as he sunk back under the covers. This time, sleep came easy… and so
did his nightmares.
The next morning was a usual one. He got up, washed himself, and
dressed in the pair of ripped black jeans and the ripped black t-shirt he had
brought, over three weeks ago. With all the training, his clothes had taken a
turn for the worse… yet Xander didn’t want to change his work-out outfit out of
fear he’d rip those clothes too.
He appeared in the kitchen to see both his gun and Kirika’s fully
stripped and laid out on the table. “As usual,” he said as he entered. “You’re
up way before me. Morning Kirika.”
“Morning, Xander,” the brunette replied, motioning for the table. “Two
guns, fully stripped. Assemble them, please… and please don’t mess up the parts
to which gun.”
Xander knew better then to state the obvious, namely that they were two
identical weapons. He knew better. He gave her a wan smile as he sat down, and
started slapping parts together. He liked these early morning challenges Kirika
prepared for him… after all, it was something he loved doing. No matter how
much it hurt physically, he knew deep down that it was the right thing to do.
“Well done,” Kirika praised him as she took her gun, and let the hammer
strike the empty chamber a couple of times to test the action. “You didn’t miss
the subtle differences between your training weapon and mine.”
Xander dipped his head gratefully. If there was on thing he liked more
than the challenges, it was the praise. It was the first time in his life that
anyone had praised him after he had done something. Not for the first time
Xander wished that his stay at this mansion with Kirika would never end.
“We’ll be leaving tomorrow,” Kirika dropped the bombshell. “Today will
be the finishing of the training, so you’ll be able to train yourself from now
on… and we really should be getting back to Paris.”
Xander sighed sadly. “I understand,” he whispered. “I guess it doesn’t
do to beg to stay here, right?”
Kirika smiled slightly. “I have enjoyed my time here with you as well,
Xander. But the real world doesn’t wait… there comes a time when we must rejoin
the reality.”
Xander was silent; there were some times where any response was the
wrong one.
End of Part One.