Fic: The Wonderland Subject (44/?)
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
The kitchen was mostly empty when Xander arrived. The only person in it was Hawkeye, who was bandaged, bruised, and favoring one side whenever he moved. He grunted at Xander when he came in, but had nothing else to say to him as he quietly ate a bowl of cereal.
Xander wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do. Should he talk to him? Did they know each other from before Xander’s memory had been wiped? Should there be small talk?
He tried to figure that out while he got his own bowl and a box of cereal. His surreptitious glances towards Hawkeye didn’t seem to trigger any sense of recognition, nor did Hawkeye ever so much as nod in his direction.
Figuring he and Hawkeye didn’t really know each other Xander got his cereal and brought it into the dining room. It was more like a cafeteria or a mess hall than an actual dining room. At one time it had probably been fancy and elegant, but after two years of feeding dozens of Slayers at a time it was set up for efficiency rather than elegance. There were two more tables in the kitchen, but with Hawkeye eating in there he felt like it would be intrusive somehow. He seemed like the kind of guy who just wanted to be alone.
The only problem with eating alone in the dining room was that it gave Xander’s mind a chance to think, and that meant thinking about terrible things. If he wasn’t dwelling on Ashley’s death or Abby’s eyes, he was fretting on just what the hell had happened with Willow.
Because really: what the hell had just happened with Willow? Naked sleep-cuddling? That wasn’t allowed. That was not within the friendship parameters.
Kennedy was going to murder him. Willow would never look at him the same way again. Buffy would...
Well Buffy would probably giggle about it for the rest of his life. But it was also going to make her think things, and he didn’t want her thinking those things, even if he wasn’t really sure what those things would be. It would be weird, and he didn’t want weirdness between him and Buffy. He wanted goodness. Happiness.
Just not ha-ha-ha-laugh-at-Xander happiness.
But how could he even think about stuff like that when there were Slayers out there getting their minds warped by Franks and his stupid magic stones? Ashley had died last night. Another Slayer had died in his arms, and the person responsible had gotten away with it.
Xander pushed his bowl away from him and then stared at his open palm. He curled the fingers into a fist. There was so much strength there, and yet it hadn’t mattered at all. He hadn’t saved Ashley. He hadn’t avenged her. He hadn’t saved Abby. He hadn’t saved Dawn. All he’d succeeded in doing was getting his ass kicked even worse than he used to.
He had never been stabbed in the heart before. Eye gouging: yes. Heart stabbing: no. Until yesterday at least.
He’d been dreaming about being a superhero since he was four years old. He’d been in awe of them, from Superman to Captain America to Buffy Summers. Now he supposedly was one, but he sure didn’t feel like it.
A hand touched his shoulder. Xander jumped slightly. His hand reached up to snatch their wrist before he even thought about it. The second his fingers went around the wrist, it moved, sliding away from him, catching his own wrist, and then pulling his arm up behind his back. Xander cried out in pain as his arm was wrenched up behind his back and he was hauled off of his seat.
Xander’s other arm made to snap his elbow back into his attacker’s face, but there was suddenly an arm hooking around his own. Leveraging their own arm against Xander’s head, he was unable to even move his right arm. His attacker picked him up off his feet, both arms immobilized and in tremendous pain.
“We need to talk,” a voice said in his ear. Then he was shoved forward. Xander stumbled a few steps, regained his balance, pressed one foot against the table and then used it to push himself back towards his attacker. He swung his fist in a tight, powerful arc towards their head.
Captain America caught his punch in one gloved hand. He looked at it, and then looked to Xander. Face paling, Xander pulled his hand back.
“You’re slow,” Captain America said.
“You’re fast,” Xander countered.
“Just as fast as you.” Then he crooked his finger and said, “Follow me.”
Xander opened his mouth to ask why, but Captain America turned crisply on his heels and walked swiftly out of the dining room. Xander rolled his aching shoulder once and then quickly followed after him. In moments they were side by side and walking down the halls. It didn’t take long for Xander to realize they were going to the gym.
Captain America spoke before Xander could ask what was going on. He looked at Xander out of the corner of his eye and said, “Numb almost killed you yesterday.”
“Almost,” Xander admitted. “Thanks for that, by the way. Saving me and all.”
“You shouldn’t have needed my help.”
Xander shrugged. He wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Sorry?”
Captain America turned his head and gave him a serious look. His eyes looked Xander up and down. “Do you know how to fight?”
“Apparently.”
“Why do you say that? Because you got attacked by a Slayer and managed not to die? Because you sparred with Buffy and she didn’t kill you? Because your body moves without you even thinking about it?”
Xander wondered how he’d learned about the spar with Buffy. “Well, yeah. Basically.”
“That doesn’t mean you know how to fight. It means your subconscious knows how to react.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“That’s the kind of thinking that got you a knife in your heart.”
“But she’s got knife-throwy superpowers or something. That’s what she said, anyway.”
Captain America stopped in mid-stride, and then grabbed Xander by the arm. “You’re ten times faster, stronger, and smarter than she is. The only difference is she’s had months to incorporate her training, and for you it’s like you just got it.”
“Got what? Training?” Xander’s eyes widened. Excitement bubbled up inside of him. “You trained me how to fight!?”
Captain America gave him a serious look that got Xander’s expression of awe to fade.
“I gave you a few pointers,” he said. “But I didn’t teach you how to fight. Or maybe I should say that I didn’t teach you how to react.”
“Oh. Who did? Was it Wolverine?”
Captain America shook his head as he pushed the door open and walked into the gym. Xander followed after him.
“No. Nobody taught you, Xander. You had the knowledge written into your subconscious. They call it subcon-training. SHIELD’s been testing it out on low-level agents for a few years now. It’s got some limited use. You can make a rookie into a decent combatant inside of a month or two. It’s useful, but it’s nowhere near as effective as real training: except when you use it on someone like you or me.”
Xander watched as Captain America walked over to a pile of fingerless sparring gloves. He dug through them and then pulled out two pairs. He tossed one to Xander, who caught it easily.
“So I got taught how to fight -- how to react -- by, what? A hypnotist?”
“It’s some kind of computer thing,” Captain America told him as he strapped on his gloves. “You said it was a helmet they made you wear. Said it hurt a lot.”
“I said that?”
Captain America nodded.
“Wow,” Xander whispered. “So you really do know me?”
“Not well, but well enough. I know you’re a good man, and I know you can be better than what I saw yesterday. If I’d known you were that green I would have suggested you stay here. Numb shouldn’t be a problem for you. A Slayer shouldn’t be a problem for you.
Xander snorted. “Have you ever seen a Slayer fight?”
Captain America’s eyes met his. “I fought three of them yesterday.”
“Okay. I have you seen a Buffy fight?”
Captain America shook his head. “They’re fast. They’re strong. Maybe even stronger than you or me. But there’s a difference there. Those girls were killers. You and I aren’t killers. We’re soldiers.”
“I really think I’m more of a gamer,” Xander said. “Maybe a TV viewer. Soldiering and me, we’ve had some issues.”
“You’re a soldier. Being here now, I see that more than ever. You’ve been fighting a war most of your life. Only now you’ve got the body to match the heart. Numb’s had time to acclimate to her training. You haven’t.” He reached up to the bottom rope of the sparring ring and then used it to climb up onto the mat. “Put on your gloves.”
“Uh, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Xander said nervously. He licked his lips and looked down at the gloves in his hand. They were awfully flimsy. “I don’t know that you pummeling me is going to teach me anything.”
Captain America squinted at him and crossed his arms. “That right?”
“Well, yeah. I mean sure, I’ll probably heal and all so it won’t be that bad, bu-”
“No, it’ll be that bad.”
Xander blinked at him. “What?”
“It’ll be that bad. I’m going to beat you to death. Then you’re going to sit in the corner, heal, and then I’m going to beat you to death again. We’ll keep doing that until you can stop me from beating you to death.”
Xander took a step backwards. “What!? You’re crazy! I’m not going to do that! Besides, you’re Captain America! You’re supposed to be nice!”
“I’m not nice,” Captain America said, his jaw set firmly and his eyes narrowed on Xander. “I’m a soldier. I fight to protect others. I kill to save lives. I use every weapon and tactic at my disposal to make sure I win. You’re one of those weapons, Xander.”
“I’m not a weapon! I’m Xander! Look, I appreciate you wanting to beat me to death and all, but this really isn’t the kind of thing I’m any good at. I can fight way better than I used to, and I managed okay for like ten years without superpowers, so that’s fine with me. This is all bonus for me.”
“Oh, I see. You managed to survive for ten years, so that means you don’t have to learn how to be as good as you can be.”
“Well you don’t have to get all motivational-poster about it. I’m just saying: I can fight now. I don’t think you beating me into a pulp is going to help.”
“Hmm. I see,” Captain America sighed and lowered his arms. “Okay.”
Xander nodded slowly. “Okay?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be pushing you. It’s your life. Like you said, you can fight better than before. If that’s good enough for you, then that’s good enough for me.”
Xander frowned and ran his tongue along his top row of teeth. Then he turned his head slightly to one side. He could sense the other shoe dangling over his head, waiting to drop. “Yeah. But?”
“But nothing,” Captain America said. He shrugged and put his hands on the top rope. “If you don’t care that you could have saved that little girl’s life yesterday, then that’s fine. At least you survived, right?”
Xander’s blood turned cold. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t realize that if she hadn’t had to come save you, that girl probably would have lived?”
“There was nothing I could do about that,” Xander whispered. His chest was rising and falling as he took slow, deep breaths. His heart was pounding in his chest.
“Yesterday you would have been right. What about tonight? What about tomorrow? What about a year from now? What about the next time someone dies where you might have been able to do something to save them? What about that, Xander? Will there be nothing you can do then? How many Slayers died when you tried to retrieve them? How many more will die because you don’t want to do what it takes to help them?”
“Shut up,” Xander said, voice low and cold. This wasn’t what Captain America was supposed to be like. This wasn’t a hero. This was just a cold bastard who would say anything to get Xander to do what he wanted. “Just shut up.”
“Ashley died because you weren’t good enough,” Captain America said. “And if you stay that way, then her death and the death of every other Slayer you ever lost is your fault. Yours, and yours alone. She would have lived. She could have lived. It’s your fault she died. It’s your fault that all of them died.”
Xander dove into the ring.