We Could Be Heroes (9/?)
* * *
“You want anything, Stud?”
Xander looked up from pumping gas into the car and replied, “Er…Coke and a bag of Doritos works for me.”
As Faith nodded and disappeared into the gas station, he smiled. Their aimless driving in the past month had led them out of California and into Arizona. And after feeling a few twinges in his head, like someone was poking a finger into his skull, he’d made the decision to get as far away from his home state as possible.
Because he knew it was Willow trying to find him - trying to turn him back to being ‘normal’.
If they wanted someone normal so bad, they had Cordelia for that. He wasn’t putting aside Altaïr’s skills. No way in hell.
As the tank was filled and he turned to hang the pump back up, the hairs on the back of his neck rose to attention. Every instinct he had screamed then that he was being watched and he swept his eyes around the area.
The dark truck parked at the edge of the lot gave him weird vibes but it was empty. Scowling, he ducked to get back in the car and heard the whistle of a projectile clearing his head. Leaning back, he glared at the crossbow quarrel that stabbed into the joint of his car door near the roof then followed the line of it back towards the trees.
From behind him he heard the gas station’s door open and he whipped his hand out, drawing a throwing dagger from underneath his shirt and struck the next quarrel out of the air.
Faith watched it clatter aside then lunged towards the car, tossing the bag she was holding into the backseat.
“Let’s go, X!”
Xander fixed his eyes on the point in the trees where he knew the assassin was and stared for a long moment before he got into the car. He felt a coldness come over him in the moment as he settled into the seat and cranked it. Flicking his eyes to the rearview mirror, he saw a dark figure moving and his lips twitched into a parody of a smile.
Stupid move.
Throwing the car into drive, he floored it away and spun in the parking lot, gravel kicking up into the air. He ignored Faith’s voice telling him to just drive the hell away and aimed the car towards that dark figure.
Shoot at him and someone was in for some hurt.
But no one shot at Faith and lived to tell the tale.
The Celica’s front bumper clipped the assassin and sent them stumbling with a crack that meant a broken leg. Jerking the car to a stop, Xander kicked the door open and was out and on top of the would-be assassin as they tried to struggle upright. He viciously kicked their remaining leg out from under them and lunged downward, striking two sharp punches at their face and sternum before they would react. Bone and cartilage broke under the two strikes and the assassin moaned in pain as he rifled through their pockets, tossing their weapons aside towards the spot where Faith stood watching.
Once satisfied, he grabbed their collar and jerked them upright, finding the figure to coalesce into a human male with several ugly features that wouldn’t have been out of place on a caveman. “Who sent you?” he snarled angrily, his voice dark with Altaïr’s accent.
Spittle hit his cheek and he drew his right fist back, drawing blood and cutting his knuckles on teeth as the punch smashed into the man’s mouth.
“I can go on all night trying to get this out of you,” Xander spat viciously. “And believe me, I know several creative torture methods. Now talk.”
“Ain’t talkin’,” spat the man in a distinctly Southern accent.
Xander scowled and started to move but Faith’s voice softly rang out to him, saying, “X, check out his hand. There’s a ring or somethin’.”
Looking down at the man’s left hand, he focused in on the band on his ring finger. He’d taken it in at a glance before, observing the gold ring as a wedding ring. Now that he looked closer he recognized it.
And that recognition sent waves of rage crashing through his chest, his blood screaming suddenly for a kill.
Reaching down, he jerked off the ring, glaring at the symbol for the Order of Teraka. He remembered them well enough from when they’d been sent hunting Buffy - and now they were after him and Faith.
There was only one group that could have done it.
Giles was on their side.
Buffy and Willow wanted him back, not dead.
Which left the Council.
His hatred for them cemented now, echoing Altaïr’s for the Templars in every way.
“Terakan,” he growled, causing the man to jerk violently. “Did the Watcher’s Council send you?”
The man just glared back at him, jaw clenched against answering. Xander didn’t need one though. He knew.
Leaning close to him, he hissed, “Do you know how the Hashshashin killed their traitors? The ones they didn’t give a second chance?”
He gave the man one moment’s response and watched with some amount of pleasure as his eyes widened. Right before he pulled out one of the slim throwing daggers and stabbed it harshly between two ribs to dig deep into the heart.
“Like that,” he finished as he watched the light in the man’s eyes die. Tugging the blade back out, he wiped the blood off on the man’s shirt then turned towards Faith, his shoulders tense. In the back of his mind he wondered what she had just thought of that - she’d been with him when killing vampires and demons but this was different.
This was a fellow human for all he was an assassin sent to kill them.
She stared down at the body for a moment then looked at him, her dark eyes not showing him how she felt. After a moment she said softly, “We ought’a get out of here, X. Guy at the station’s bound to have seen some of this.”
Xander scowled and glanced towards the station, which was still close enough that he could just see inside. And the grizzled old guy running it was indeed on the phone.
Sonovabitch.
Glaring back at the Terakan’s body, he shoved the ring into the pocket of his jeans then climbed back into the car. As soon as Faith was seated again, he jerked it into reverse and roared backwards before flooring the Celica into drive so they tore out onto the Arizona highway again. Jaw clenched, he gripped the steering wheel tight and growled, “It doesn’t matter that he was human.”
“Doesn’t it?” demanded Faith.
“He was an assassin!” roared Xander. “One of the Order of Teraka - someone called in a contract on us.”
“So that makes him alright to kill?”
“No, it doesn’t,” he replied, forcing himself to lower his voice. As he turned onto a back road, he continued, “But I don’t have any qualms against it.”
Faith watched him in silence for a moment, taking in his clenched jaw and his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.
“Yeah, yah do,” she observed softly.
Xander hissed then jerked the car to a stop, shoving the gearshift up to park and pulling up the brake. He slumped against the steering wheel, feeling his hands starting to shake as his grip loosened, and he breathed, “I had to do it. Damnit, Faith, I had to kill him, human or not.”
“X…”
“He took a shot at me. At you. To kill us. That means it doesn’t matter that he was human. He was trying to kill us and would’ve just kept trying if we’d let him live.”
Faith bit her lip, hating to see him like this. Because she could tell right now he was struggling between what he’d thought was right before and what Altaïr’s instincts told him to do. What his own assassin instincts told him to do.
Leaning across the space between them, she touched his arm and felt the muscles jump in response. Xander turned his face towards her, one frantic dark eye focused on her face, and she smiled tightly.
“I’m still with yah, lover,” she said softly. “But don’t you tell me yah don’t give a shit. ‘Cause I know yah better than that. Assassin’s instincts or not, you didn’t like that one bit.”
He stared at her for a long moment then his shoulders shook, a single ragged sob struggling out of his throat. Turning back to the wheel, he clutched at it and shook his head as he fought himself back under control enough to speak.
“No,” he confessed, feeling ill. “No, I didn’t.” He hadn’t liked torturing Wesley either but it had been necessary. Like this had been.
“X, pull over, and…”
“No,” he said sternly, pushing himself back upright. “We can’t stay around here. For all we know, he told others in the Order where he tracked us to and they could be on our trail. Plus the police. We’ve got to get out of here before they get us.”
Faith frowned at that because she knew he was a time bomb of emotions right now. But she knew that he was right too.
“Okay,” she conceded. “You let me drive, though. Yah ain’t in the state to right now.”
Xander almost started to protest then he conceded, dropping his hands off the wheel. He wasn’t in a state to drive. Not right now.
Not after killing a person with his own hands.
As much as he’d thought over the possibility of having to do so and seeing it in Altaïr’s memories, the real thing was much different. And part of him was repulsed by the act.
When he was shifted over into the passenger seat, he shoved the seat back as far as it went and slumped heavily into it, hands over his face. He felt Faith’s hand brush his arm and he dropped one hand, reaching to grip hers tightly. Her strong fingers closed around his tightly, so assuring.
Letting him know that she was still with him.
Trying to smile, he released her hand and shifted so he was facing the door, eyes focused out the window at the dark sky. One death, he mused, as he felt the car start moving. His first human kill.
How on earth had Altaïr dealt with this?
Sighing, Xander closed his eyes and shuddered.
The man had been an assassin, he told himself. Hired to kill people. Hired to kill the woman he loved. He was bound to die at some point - meant to die.
So why didn’t that make him feel any less guilty?
“You want anything, Stud?”
Xander looked up from pumping gas into the car and replied, “Er…Coke and a bag of Doritos works for me.”
As Faith nodded and disappeared into the gas station, he smiled. Their aimless driving in the past month had led them out of California and into Arizona. And after feeling a few twinges in his head, like someone was poking a finger into his skull, he’d made the decision to get as far away from his home state as possible.
Because he knew it was Willow trying to find him - trying to turn him back to being ‘normal’.
If they wanted someone normal so bad, they had Cordelia for that. He wasn’t putting aside Altaïr’s skills. No way in hell.
As the tank was filled and he turned to hang the pump back up, the hairs on the back of his neck rose to attention. Every instinct he had screamed then that he was being watched and he swept his eyes around the area.
The dark truck parked at the edge of the lot gave him weird vibes but it was empty. Scowling, he ducked to get back in the car and heard the whistle of a projectile clearing his head. Leaning back, he glared at the crossbow quarrel that stabbed into the joint of his car door near the roof then followed the line of it back towards the trees.
From behind him he heard the gas station’s door open and he whipped his hand out, drawing a throwing dagger from underneath his shirt and struck the next quarrel out of the air.
Faith watched it clatter aside then lunged towards the car, tossing the bag she was holding into the backseat.
“Let’s go, X!”
Xander fixed his eyes on the point in the trees where he knew the assassin was and stared for a long moment before he got into the car. He felt a coldness come over him in the moment as he settled into the seat and cranked it. Flicking his eyes to the rearview mirror, he saw a dark figure moving and his lips twitched into a parody of a smile.
Stupid move.
Throwing the car into drive, he floored it away and spun in the parking lot, gravel kicking up into the air. He ignored Faith’s voice telling him to just drive the hell away and aimed the car towards that dark figure.
Shoot at him and someone was in for some hurt.
But no one shot at Faith and lived to tell the tale.
The Celica’s front bumper clipped the assassin and sent them stumbling with a crack that meant a broken leg. Jerking the car to a stop, Xander kicked the door open and was out and on top of the would-be assassin as they tried to struggle upright. He viciously kicked their remaining leg out from under them and lunged downward, striking two sharp punches at their face and sternum before they would react. Bone and cartilage broke under the two strikes and the assassin moaned in pain as he rifled through their pockets, tossing their weapons aside towards the spot where Faith stood watching.
Once satisfied, he grabbed their collar and jerked them upright, finding the figure to coalesce into a human male with several ugly features that wouldn’t have been out of place on a caveman. “Who sent you?” he snarled angrily, his voice dark with Altaïr’s accent.
Spittle hit his cheek and he drew his right fist back, drawing blood and cutting his knuckles on teeth as the punch smashed into the man’s mouth.
“I can go on all night trying to get this out of you,” Xander spat viciously. “And believe me, I know several creative torture methods. Now talk.”
“Ain’t talkin’,” spat the man in a distinctly Southern accent.
Xander scowled and started to move but Faith’s voice softly rang out to him, saying, “X, check out his hand. There’s a ring or somethin’.”
Looking down at the man’s left hand, he focused in on the band on his ring finger. He’d taken it in at a glance before, observing the gold ring as a wedding ring. Now that he looked closer he recognized it.
And that recognition sent waves of rage crashing through his chest, his blood screaming suddenly for a kill.
Reaching down, he jerked off the ring, glaring at the symbol for the Order of Teraka. He remembered them well enough from when they’d been sent hunting Buffy - and now they were after him and Faith.
There was only one group that could have done it.
Giles was on their side.
Buffy and Willow wanted him back, not dead.
Which left the Council.
His hatred for them cemented now, echoing Altaïr’s for the Templars in every way.
“Terakan,” he growled, causing the man to jerk violently. “Did the Watcher’s Council send you?”
The man just glared back at him, jaw clenched against answering. Xander didn’t need one though. He knew.
Leaning close to him, he hissed, “Do you know how the Hashshashin killed their traitors? The ones they didn’t give a second chance?”
He gave the man one moment’s response and watched with some amount of pleasure as his eyes widened. Right before he pulled out one of the slim throwing daggers and stabbed it harshly between two ribs to dig deep into the heart.
“Like that,” he finished as he watched the light in the man’s eyes die. Tugging the blade back out, he wiped the blood off on the man’s shirt then turned towards Faith, his shoulders tense. In the back of his mind he wondered what she had just thought of that - she’d been with him when killing vampires and demons but this was different.
This was a fellow human for all he was an assassin sent to kill them.
She stared down at the body for a moment then looked at him, her dark eyes not showing him how she felt. After a moment she said softly, “We ought’a get out of here, X. Guy at the station’s bound to have seen some of this.”
Xander scowled and glanced towards the station, which was still close enough that he could just see inside. And the grizzled old guy running it was indeed on the phone.
Sonovabitch.
Glaring back at the Terakan’s body, he shoved the ring into the pocket of his jeans then climbed back into the car. As soon as Faith was seated again, he jerked it into reverse and roared backwards before flooring the Celica into drive so they tore out onto the Arizona highway again. Jaw clenched, he gripped the steering wheel tight and growled, “It doesn’t matter that he was human.”
“Doesn’t it?” demanded Faith.
“He was an assassin!” roared Xander. “One of the Order of Teraka - someone called in a contract on us.”
“So that makes him alright to kill?”
“No, it doesn’t,” he replied, forcing himself to lower his voice. As he turned onto a back road, he continued, “But I don’t have any qualms against it.”
Faith watched him in silence for a moment, taking in his clenched jaw and his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.
“Yeah, yah do,” she observed softly.
Xander hissed then jerked the car to a stop, shoving the gearshift up to park and pulling up the brake. He slumped against the steering wheel, feeling his hands starting to shake as his grip loosened, and he breathed, “I had to do it. Damnit, Faith, I had to kill him, human or not.”
“X…”
“He took a shot at me. At you. To kill us. That means it doesn’t matter that he was human. He was trying to kill us and would’ve just kept trying if we’d let him live.”
Faith bit her lip, hating to see him like this. Because she could tell right now he was struggling between what he’d thought was right before and what Altaïr’s instincts told him to do. What his own assassin instincts told him to do.
Leaning across the space between them, she touched his arm and felt the muscles jump in response. Xander turned his face towards her, one frantic dark eye focused on her face, and she smiled tightly.
“I’m still with yah, lover,” she said softly. “But don’t you tell me yah don’t give a shit. ‘Cause I know yah better than that. Assassin’s instincts or not, you didn’t like that one bit.”
He stared at her for a long moment then his shoulders shook, a single ragged sob struggling out of his throat. Turning back to the wheel, he clutched at it and shook his head as he fought himself back under control enough to speak.
“No,” he confessed, feeling ill. “No, I didn’t.” He hadn’t liked torturing Wesley either but it had been necessary. Like this had been.
“X, pull over, and…”
“No,” he said sternly, pushing himself back upright. “We can’t stay around here. For all we know, he told others in the Order where he tracked us to and they could be on our trail. Plus the police. We’ve got to get out of here before they get us.”
Faith frowned at that because she knew he was a time bomb of emotions right now. But she knew that he was right too.
“Okay,” she conceded. “You let me drive, though. Yah ain’t in the state to right now.”
Xander almost started to protest then he conceded, dropping his hands off the wheel. He wasn’t in a state to drive. Not right now.
Not after killing a person with his own hands.
As much as he’d thought over the possibility of having to do so and seeing it in Altaïr’s memories, the real thing was much different. And part of him was repulsed by the act.
When he was shifted over into the passenger seat, he shoved the seat back as far as it went and slumped heavily into it, hands over his face. He felt Faith’s hand brush his arm and he dropped one hand, reaching to grip hers tightly. Her strong fingers closed around his tightly, so assuring.
Letting him know that she was still with him.
Trying to smile, he released her hand and shifted so he was facing the door, eyes focused out the window at the dark sky. One death, he mused, as he felt the car start moving. His first human kill.
How on earth had Altaïr dealt with this?
Sighing, Xander closed his eyes and shuddered.
The man had been an assassin, he told himself. Hired to kill people. Hired to kill the woman he loved. He was bound to die at some point - meant to die.
So why didn’t that make him feel any less guilty?