Redemption Day: Prologue
by Sarge
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Willow, Xander, Giles and Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, et.al. The Crow belongs to James O'Barr. I only borrowed these characters for a short time.
Author's Notes: For those of you who have seen the movie The Crow, yes, this is a blatant ripoff of that plot, but I had to start somewhere and I'm not making any money, so there. Thanks to all of my beta readers, especially Amanda nad Tracy. Enjoy.
Teaser: : Xander, Willow and Buffy in a story about death, vengeance and ultimately love.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prologue
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the quiet California night a crow flew through the dark sky, floating on the breezes coming from the just-setting sun. It circled, searching for the purpose of its mission that night. Finally, the crow alighted upon a simple, marble headstone in the cemetery. The crow shifted its claws a few times testing its purchase and pecked the top of the grave marker. Then it let out a single cry.
CAW!
“Nooooo!” All he felt was a gut wrenching, mind-searing pain that scorched its way through every vein and nerve ending as life returned to his body. Wracked by pain, he violently convulsed and his hands pounded at the boundaries of the coffin containing him. He had to rise, had to go up. That was all he knew. Screaming out the fetid air trapped in his lungs he started punching and clawing at his dark prison. The top of the coffin splintered, spilling the soil in on top of him. He kept pushing. One hand broke the surface and finally, in an explosion of grass and dirt, he was out in the cool, fresh air.
His coat and his shirt were torn from his upward struggle. They held him, constricted him. They reeked of death. He fought to get them off, shredding them, finally pulling them over his head. He lay beside the grave, gasping, lost, almost as naked and vulnerable as the day he was born. Almost. He looked around, confused, seeing the grave markers, looking for somewhere to go. Rising shakily to his feet, he stumbled off trying to get his bearings.
Unnoticed, a vampire entered the cemetery with a cocky strut. The night was young and he was on the hunt. It was dinnertime, but he liked to take a stroll through here for old times sake. When he spotted a pale, young man stumbling along barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of dark colored pants, he smiled at his luck, revealing his elongated canines. “Well, looks like somebody started partying early.” He chuckled. “Like I say, never pass up a free meal when it’s offered to you.” He increased his pace to a trot and silently stole up to the young man just as they passed under the low hanging limbs of an old oak tree. The vampire wrapped one arm around his victim's chest and pulled back the head to bare the neck with his other hand. He sank his fangs in and began to drink.
Then the vampire realized he had just made a mistake. The blood that filled his mouth was cold. The body within his grasp hardened, as if it was made of the same marble as the tombstones surrounding them. If the vampire could have seen the anger and revulsion on his prey’s face, he might have started running then. “You know,” his victim said, “you really should check to make sure someone’s alive before you try to give them big hickies.” Before the vampire could react the just-risen soul reached over his shoulder with both hands, grabbed hold of the vampire’s jacket, bent at the waist and threw with all of his strength. He hung on to the jacket, which surprisingly came off, as the vampire flew through the air and then landed on his back with a satisfying thud.
The risen soul looked at the black leather jacket in his hands. “Nice jacket,” he said as he put it on, not noticing that the two small puncture wounds had already healed.
The vampire got up, shook his head to clear the cobwebs and looked at this…this…thing that had just thrown him. “Hey! That’s my best jacket.”
“You’d better come get it then, hadn’t you?”
With a growl the vampire charged. Not thinking, just acting on instinct, the young man calmly stood his ground until the vampire was almost within arm’s length and then thrust out his hand. The heel of his palm connected with the vampire’s nose, crushing it like an eggshell and dropping the vampire as if he had been hit with a sledgehammer. Without a pause, the young man reached up, broke a small branch off the tree and drove it straight down into the vampire’s chest. The vampire’s face reflected its surprise as he turned to dust.
Looking down at his bare feet the risen soul said, “Note to self. Take the shoes before you dust the next vampire.” He paused for a long moment, bewildered, and then murmured to himself, “Whoa! How did I know that was a vampire?”
CAW!
He spun to see the crow sitting on the headstone of the disturbed grave. Walking on steadier legs, he made his way back to the grave until he could read the inscription and fell to his knees. “In loving memory of Alexander L. Harris. Is that who I am…or was?”
CAW!
He looked at the crow. “Who am I? What am I? Why am I here?!!” he shouted.
CAW!
“Aaauugghh!” He grabbed his head with both hands as the memories flooded back with a violent flash of pain.
~~~ Xander and Anya walked through the cool evening, laughing at some joke that Xander made. “And just what is the reason for this good mood that you’re in?” Anya asked.
Xander pulled the letter out of his back pocket. “Look at this. It’s a letter of acceptance from UC Sunnydale. I got in. No more night managing job at the supermarket. No more feeling like I’m being left behind. Who knew you could take the SAT more than once?”
Anya raised one eyebrow. “Huh, I did.”
With a mock serious look on his face Xander replied, “Well, you should know, being twelve hundred years old.”
“That’s eleven hundred and twenty-two years to you buddy.”
“Ooo, getting touchy about our age now are we?”
“Well you would too if you knew you weren’t immortal anymore.” Anya replied with a perplexed look on her face. “Anyway, why did you call me to celebrate?” she asked trying to change the subject.
“Well, you were the first one I could find considering Buffy and Willow were busy.” Dodging a punch at his shoulder Xander quickly added, “And because you helped me study so much for the SATs when everyone else was busy with their own school work. You don’t know how much I appreciate that.” Then with a sly smile, “And I am, after all, the reason why you came back to Sunnydale after the ascension. Why shouldn’t I celebrate with you?”
“You may be the only male I can tolerate but you’re not the reason I came back,” Anya said, letting a small smile creep onto her face.
“Oh, the king of cretins is mortally wounded to the heart,” he said in his best melodramatic tone, raising his hands to his chest. “Come on. Willow and Buffy are waiting for us,” he said as they both walked on chuckling. ~~~
Still kneeling on the ground Xander moaned, “No.”
~~~ In that brief, carefree moment they were almost to the Bronze when the four men who had been following them came out of the shadows. Taken by surprise, Xander and Anya were quickly subdued and dragged into an alley. Two men stood on either side of Xander holding his arms and keeping him from moving while a third one held Anya in a headlock. The fourth one, the leader, paced back and forth between his two captives contemplating his next move. Xander and Anya looked at each other, trying to figure out what they should do.
"Let her go. You don’t need her. She can’t do anything to you,” Xander said, trying to sound braver than he felt at the moment. “You can take me."
The leader looked at Xander and replied with a cold, hard voice, “You know, you’re absolutely right.” He turned to his third henchman and said, “Break her neck.”
“Wha…?” was all that escaped from Anya’s lips before her head was turned an impossible angle and her neck snapped. As she slumped to the ground, the light went out of her eyes. ~~~
Xander looked up at the black bird in front of him and screamed, “Nooooo!”
~~~ “ANYA!” Xander yelled in anguish. “Why did you do that?!” he screamed as he pulled against the hands restraining him, and then he realized just how helpless he was in this situation. The leader turned back to Xander with the demonic visage that he had seen too many times in the past few years.
“Because you’re the one we want,” the vampire leader began. “We want you to deliver a message to the Slayer for us. You see, we’ve been letting her bring the fight to us for too long. Think of this as a declaration of war.” He pulled a long hunting knife out from under his jacket and put the sharp point under Xander’s chin, pricking him enough to draw blood. “Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention. You’re not just the messenger. You’re also the message.” With that statement he raised the knife and slashed Xander’s face from the top of his left cheek down to the jaw.
Xander took in a sharp breath through his teeth, trying not to scream in pain. Anya was another friend he was not able to save but he would be damned before he gave this demon the satisfaction of seeing fear on his face.
“That one was for the Slayer. I thought about draining you and decided that wasn’t visual enough. I also decided against turning you because then I would have to share the hunting around here with you.” With the last statement, the vampire leader slashed open Xander’s right cheek. “That one is for her Limey watcher.” The smell of blood thrilled the demon and he licked it off the blade. “And this one is for her undead lover, that no good traitor,” he said with a deep rumble from the back of his throat as he raised the knife.
As the vampire leader raised the knife for another slash, Xander made one last attempt at bravado. “Hey, hold on. You don’t have to send a message to him. He left a year ago.”
The vampire leader turned around to contemplate this. “You’re right. That would be a wasted effort. So this one is for your red headed witch. She probably won’t take this message very well.”
Xander lunged against the hands holding him and yelled, “You leave her alone you bastard! Don’t you dare…”
The vampire whirled, holding the knife low. Xander’s eyes grew large and he tried to dodge but the vampires at his sides were too strong. The knife went in under his sternum all the way to the hilt. The demon pulled the blade out and signaled the two vampires to drop their victim. They turned to leave. As Xander’s life’s blood poured out onto the filthy concrete, the leader spoke, “Give my regards to the Slayer.”
With a faint breath Xander whispered, “I’m sorry Will…” ~~~
“That. Is. Enough!” Xander yelled at the loathsome bird, but there was one more memory.
~~~ As multicolored lights splintered the darkness of the alley, Xander saw Anya’s broken body lying limply on the ground. He watched as Buffy stood over him talking to the police, trying to get information. As his sight failed the last image he saw was Willow sobbing. She cradled his head in her lap, smearing his blood all over her hands while his last breath left him. ~~~
“All right,” he said to the crow, as an all-consuming anger burned in his chest, “Where do I find them?”
The black messenger let out a single quiet squawk as it took flight and flew toward the cemetery entrance. The crow landed on the gate and looked back to Xander as if it was beckoning him to follow.
Xander stood and walked toward the gate. As he came up to the crow, he asked it, “Couldn’t you at least find me a shirt and a pair of shoes?” The bird hopped off the gate, settled on his shoulder and looked at him quizzically. “A big help you are,” Xander grumbled as he walked off into the night.
This story archived at: The Slayer\'s Fanfic Archive
The Slayer\\\\\\\\'s FanFic Archive - http://www.slayerfanfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=3034