FIC: So Crazy it Just Might Work (Xander, Angel), Part 15: "The Prodigal"
Wow - it's been six months to the day since I last posted a chapter of this story! Sorry!!
This chapter is a long one at 5350 words - maybe not six-month-wait long, but hey, at least there's a bit more than usual to sink your teeth into.
Hmm, so much to say...
First off, HUGE thanks to apreludetoanend for my all new, super cute, totally gorgeous LJ banner and layout! I enjoy it every day.
Second, I did actually write and post one thing this spring. It was a chapter of a Spander round robin story I'm writing with cordelianne, electricalgwen and reremouse called "Living Conditions". The first four chapters have already been posted at spring_with_xan and the last five chapters will be posted there on June 19th. It's a very fun story, so if you haven't yet, check it out.
Finally, I know I haven't given much reason for faith lately, but I do intend to start posting this story regularly again and hope to finish by the end of the summer. Seven episodes to go!
Title: So Crazy it Just Might Work
Chapter: Fifteen - "The Prodigal"
Pairing: Angel, Xander, Wesley, Spike; Spike/Xander
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: Probably not what Joss envisioned. Some bits of dialogue have been stolen from AtS s1 "The Prodigal."
Thanks: To reremouse and cordelianne for their support.
Summary: A slashier version of the first season of AtS in which Angel teams up with Xander instead of Cordelia (but not in a sexual way).
Part One: "City Of..."
Part Two: "Lonely Hearts"
Part Three: "In the Dark"
Part Four: "I Fall to Pieces"
Part Five: "Rm w/ a Vu"
Part Six: "Sense and Sensitivity"
Part Seven: "Bachelor Party"
Part Eight A: "Pangs"
Part Eight B: "I Will Remember You"
Part Nine: "Hero"
Part Ten: "Parting Gifts"
Part Eleven: "Somnambulist"
Part Twelve:" Expecting"
Part Thirteen: "She"
Part Fourteen: "I've Got You Under My Skin"
He’s surrounded.
Xander’s eyes dart every which way - up, down, front, side to side - but it’s no use.
No exit.
They’re tall, huge. They block the light.
His heart kicks into overdrive. He knows he should move, knows he must be getting further and further behind, but he’s frozen.
Lost.
Abandoned.
Pinned and about to be crushed.
If only he were bigger, taller, or maybe smaller.
Small enough to be invisible (he’s wished for it before), to slip safely through the cracks, out and away - but it’s not like it matters because he still can’t move.
Can’t speak, either, until suddenly, swiftly something sweeps in and he opens his mouth to cry out as a hand closes around his wrist.
Xander’s eyes snap up.
A familiar face looks back down at him and maybe he’s never been so glad to see it. He wants to cry with relief.
The grip on his wrist tightens - yanks - and Xander stumbles forward.
Now he just wants to cry.
“Damn it, Xander. What the hell is wrong with you?”
He shakes his head - can’t answer.
“Xander? Xander? What’s wrong?”
Wrong voice and wrong tone. Xander blinked twice and Wesley’s face replaced his father’s. Not so much looming as peering.
“Are you alright?”
Xander swallowed. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just…” He turned his head to glance around, taking in the subway walls, blinked again, exhaled. “I’ve been to this station before. A long time ago. With my dad. Got lost and then he found me. No big deal.” From their place at the bottom of the stairs, he looked across the wide platform to the tracks, where a trainful of confused passengers was disembarking. “Think they got it?”
Before Wesley could answer, they heard a man’s voice behind them on the stairs. “Crazy homeless guy got on at Central Street Station,” it was saying. “Went nuts. Started tearing up the car, threatened some passengers. It was one of them that pulled the emergency brake. They’re all still pretty shook up.”
“What about the suspect?” The second voice was a woman’s. Familiar.
Xander looked up just in time to catch Detective Lockley’s profile as she passed. Xander met Wesley’s gaze and tilted his head, indicating that they should follow.
“Gone,” the officer said.
“The call said it was a hostage situation.” Xander could practically hear Lockley’s frown. The woman just wasn’t big on things that didn’t add up. Probably why she was a cop instead of a…well, whatever you were when you didn’t have super-evil-demon-fighting powers but liked to help people who did.
The word sidekick did not float through Xander’s mind.
“It was,” the officer told her.
Kate’s voice turned fierce. “The suspect escaped?”
“Well, we’re still trying to get the story,” the officer hedged, “but it’s a little unclear.”
Xander flashed Wes a smirk.
“Unclear? “ Kate was clearly not impressed. “You have two dozen witnesses.”
“I know,“ the officer said, “and they are all saying the same thing.”
“Which is?”
“That the suspect went out through the top vent while the train was still moving.”
“He climbed out of the moving train.”
“They’re saying he was pulled out.”
“Pulled out by what?”
The officer didn’t answer. Xander smiled.
“Get statements,” Kate said, before marching over to the train.
Wesley turned to Xander. “I suppose that answers your question.”
“Sure, but now the real question is - when they fought over which of them got to kill it, who won?”
“And how insufferable is he going to be about it?” Wesley added.
“On a scale of one to ten,” Xander clarified. “Care to make a wager?”
“Starbucks, once we get back to the office. My money’s on Angel. And five.”
“And I’ll take Spike for a nine.”
“You’re on.” Wesley shook his head. “You know, it’s a shame there aren’t more demons to go around.”
Xander smiled. “I’d tell you you could say that again, but that’s just asking for trouble.”
Spike returned first, swaggering across the platform, smug smile firmly in place.
Xander turned to Wes. “Grande double shot white chocolate mocha with whipped cream and sprinkles.”
Spike cocked an eyebrow.
Xander shrugged. “Okay, so maybe the sprinkles are over the top, but I figure what’s the point of being gay if not for the freedom to order girly drinks without being called any names you wouldn’t be called already?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Pouf.”
“Exactly.”
Xander was still grinning when Angel walked up, Kate Lockley in tow. He nodded to them. “Xander, I need you to - “
“Clean up on Aisle 10. Got it,” Xander said, brandishing his hacksaw. “Can I take Spike?”
“Sure,” Angel said.
“Hey!” Spike protested. “Done my bit. Thought I might pop off to the pub for a pint.”
“It’s nine-thirty in the morning,” Wesley said.
“It’s four-thirty in Ireland,” Spike replied.
Wesley rolled his eyes. “Oh, right then, well as long as you go to an Irish pub…”
“Murphy’s opens at ten.”
“Come on, Spike.” Xander stepped into his line of vision and batted his eyelashes. “Help me saw up the demon and I’ll let you give me the play by play on how you kicked the demon’s ass and Angel didn’t.”
“All of it?” Spike asked.
“Every last gory detail.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Angel cleared his throat. “Wes,” he said, “I need you to identify it. It wasn’t talking. We need to know what it was and why it was on that train.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Kate…” Angel began.
Kate turned on him with a snort. “What? Instructions for me, too? Hate to break it to you, but I’m not one of your little sidekicks.”
“Hey!” chimed three voices in unison.
“We prefer the term ‘partner,’” Xander said.
Angel shook his head. “No. I was just wondering - what’s your father doing here?”
Kate turned to follow Angel’s gaze, frowned, and headed in the direction of a gray-haired man who was talking to one of the officers.
Xander stared after her for a moment, then turned to Spike. “Hey - what’s the date today?”
Spike just looked at him. Fair enough. Xander supposed that after a hundred years of existence, give or take, he probably wouldn’t bother to keep track either. He turned to Wes, who answered immediately.
“February 22nd - why?”
Xander kept his expression casual. “No reason. Just wondering.”
Kate returned a minute later, a trace of a smile on her face.
“What’s he up to?” Angel asked.
Kate looked back in her father’s direction. “I think he’s actually checking up on me.”
Xander looked away, holding up the hacksaw with one arm while he elbowed Spike with the other. “Let’s get it done and get out of here. I’m thinking - dismemberment, disposal, donuts. In that order.”
“You promised me a pub,” Spike said.
“Murphy’s doesn’t have sewer access, it’s about eight hours ‘til sunset, you’re flammable. We can go tonight, Tinder Boy.”
Spike glared but followed.
They’re fighting again. Still. Whatever.
About money maybe. Or booze. Or money for booze.
Picking up where they left off. Covering old ground.
Both. Neither.
Four hundred and fifty-second verse - same as the first - a little bit louder and a little bit…well, no, pretty much exactly the same.
Except it is worse, in a way.
People fear the sharp, shooting pain, but that’s nothing. You recover. At the ripe old age of thirteen, Xander already knows it’s the steady, chronic, relentless ache that does you in in the end.
He has to get out.
There are comic books at the mall. And chocolate bars. And he’s saved up just enough money for a couple of both. It’s raining, but he doesn’t care. He’ll walk.
He puts on his shoes, waits for a break in the shouting, slips down the hall.
“Momdadgoingtothemallbacklater,” he mumbles, slouching through the living room toward the front door.
“Hey, wait…”
Xander’s got an arm through his jacket and hand on the doorknob, when his dad’s voice stops him. He looks back over his shoulder but doesn’t move from the door.
“It’s raining,” Tony Harris says.
“I know,” Xander says, the heart in his throat making it hard to get the words out. “I don’t mind.”
“Don’t be stupid.” A familiar phrase, but not what follows. “I’ll drive you.”
“You…you will?” Xander exhales, slips his other arm through the other sleeve of the jacket. “Okay. Thanks.”
When the car is started up, his dad turns it to the country station. It reminds Xander of the times they used to drive to his grandmother’s place, an hour and a half up the coast.
Fun drives.
Better times.
Xander sits back quietly for a minute or two, Garth Brooks’ unanswered prayers giving way to Alan Jackson’s pleas not to rock the jukebox. The mall grows close.
His dad breaks the silence. “Got any money?” he asks.
It takes Xander a moment to answer. He can’t remember the last time his dad even offered to even him anywhere, let alone give him spending money.
“A little,” Xander says, trying to sound like he wouldn’t mind more, without seeming too greedy. Besides, he’s proud of having saved. It wasn’t easy.
“Good,” Tony says.
Xander’s heart swells. He can see the mall up ahead to the right.
The car turns left.
And keeps going.
“Hey, um…dad?” He doesn’t want to sound like he’s telling his dad what to do - that never ends well. “The mall’s over-“
Before he can finish his sentence, the car turns again.
Into a parking lot.
In front of a bar.
An upturned palm appears in Xander’s line of vision. “Hand it over,” Tony says.
It takes Xander a moment to process the request. His hands slips automatically into his jeans pocket, clutches the wad of one-dollar bills. “But…I…”
“Xander…” his father begins.
Xander doesn’t need to hear the ending. He pulls his fist from his pocket, holds it over his father’s hand, opens it and watches the bills and coins fall.
His father’s fingers close around them. The driver’s door opens. “I won’t be long,” Tony says, as if it matters anymore.
It’s still raining. The mall is just a few blocks away.
Xander gets out of the car and walks home.
“Xander? Xander?”
Xander looked up and over at Wesley’s desk. “Huh?”
“I’m fairly certain they don’t have sprinkles. I’m assuming a sprinkling of chocolate powder will do?”
Xander blinked. “What?”
“On top of the whipped cream.”
“Hmm?”
“On your grande double shot white chocolate mocha,” Wesley said. “I’m going to Starbucks now. If Angel comes up, tell him I think I’ve almost identified the demon but needed a break as I was beginning to go cross-eyed and…. Xander?”
“What?” Xander head snapped back up. “Yeah, cross-eyed, got it.”
“Are you sure you’re all right? Are we expecting a call?”
“Huh? No. Why?”
“You’ve been staring at the phone all morning.”
“No I haven’t.”
Wesley nodded. “Clever, then. You certainly had me fooled.”
Xander mustered a glare. “Weren’t you supposed to be taking a break?”
Wesley shook his head, grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and left.
“Where’s Wesley?”
Xander glanced up to find Angel standing in front of his desk. Xander shrugged.
Angel turned to look at Wesley’s book-strewn desk again, as if he might have overlooked Wesley the first time. “He was supposed to identify that demon from the subway. Was he making progress?”
Xander shrugged again. “How should I know?”
Angel frowned. “And he didn’t say where he was going?”
“I don’t think so.” Xander shrugged once more. It felt good - his shoulders were kinda stiff.
“When did he leave?”
“I dunno. Before.”
“Before what?”
“Before now.”
Angel nodded slowly. “So what you’re saying is that the office is still operating in linear time?”
Xander chose not to dignify that comment with a response.
“Why are you staring at the phone?”
“I’m not staring at the phone,” Xander snapped. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Angel held up his hands.
“What do you know, anyway?” Xander continued. “You haven’t even been up here.”
“I’ve been up here three times since you got back from the subway.”
Xander’s scowl turned to a frown. “Really?”
“Whoever it is,” Angel said, “you should just call and get it over with.”
“Who says I even want to call him? I mean, them. I mean, anyone. I mean, who says there’s even anybody I want to-?”
Luckily, Xander was saved from the embarrassment of trying to finish that sentence by the opening of the front door, followed by Wesley’s voice.
“I’m afraid they were out of chocolate powder, so they had to put on a drizzle of chocolate sauce instead, which of course would have been perfectly all right except that it was too loud in there to actually hear the barista and I think she must have taken my confusion for displeasure because she offered to make it a venti - an offer I’d certainly have declined under normal circumstances - god forbid we repeat last month’s chocolate bar incident - but given that you’ve been practically comatose the entire morning, I figured it couldn’t - oh, hello, Angel.”
Wesley immediately dropped the venti cup off on Xander’s desk and veered toward his own, setting his cup of tea down in the few square inches not covered in books.
“Earlier, I believed I had the demon from the subway narrowed down to three possibilities, but on the way to the coffee shop I considered it further and I realized it couldn’t possibly be the Ourstra, since you encountered no slime, and the Gresholz - well, unless there was a strong copper odor that you failed to mention …” Wesley trailed off as he picked an open book up off his desk and showed it to Angel. “So…would that be the demon you encountered this morning?”
Angel studied it for a moment and nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.”
“Her, actually,” Wesley said. “It’s a Kwaini. They’re always female.”
“That’s a neat trick,” Xander said.
They both ignored him. “Okay,” Angel asked, “what’s it say about disposal methods?”
“Well, it should be relatively standard. Burial on virgin soil, simple Latinate incantation…however...”
“What?”
“Well, it’s curious. According to everything I could find a Kwaini is a peaceful, balancing demon. Non-violent.”
Xander snorted. “Not the way Spike tells it.”
“Kwainis aren’t fighters by nature. They’re incredibly articulate, gentle creatures not even capable of the power and strength to keep up with someone like Spike. Perhaps Spike was simply...”
“Exaggerating?” Angel shook his head. “Normally yeah, of course. But not this time. I had to step in a couple of times to help.”
Xander smirked. “He so didn’t tell me that.”
“Okay,” Angel said, “so something set it off, maybe gave it some extra strength. Xander - where’d you put the body?”
“I stashed it in the basement. “ Xander blinked and shook his head. “And, wow, can we just take a moment to pause and ask when those words started just rolling off my tongue?”
Angel shook his head. “No time. Go get it and bring it up here so Wes can run some tests. Wes - see what you can figure out. The way I see it, we’ve got two big questions here: How’d it learn to fight so well and what would make a peaceful, balancing demon attack a train-full of LA commuters in the first place? I’m gonna go talk to Kate, see who was on that train.”
“It’s the middle of the day,” Xander said. “I can go.”
Angel was already grabbing his coat. “Police station has sewer access. Stay here and help, Wes. Call me if you find anything.”
The door slammed behind him.
Xander turned to Wes. “After I bring the body up, you’re pretty much just gonna want me to stay out of your way, aren’t you?”
Wes looked over at Xander then down at the floor. “Well, er, it may require a good deal of concentration to-“
Xander held up his hand. “Say no more. I’ll go home for lunch, check on Spike. ’Cause dissections? Not really good for the appetite. Call me if you need me.”
Xander breezed through his apartment door and straight to the couch, plopping down next to Spike. “I can’t believe it’s only lunchtime.” He glanced at the VCR clock and then over at Spike. “Is one-fifteen too late for a nooner?”
“Passions ’s on.”
Since Spike hadn’t actually bothered to look away from the TV, he didn’t get to see Xander boggle. “Please tell me you’re kid-”
But before Spike could tell him anything at all, Xander’s cell phone rang.
Xander fished it out of his pocket. “Hello?”
“Xander. I’m glad you’re there.
“Angel, hey! What’s up? What do you need?”
”Wes said you went home?”
”Yeah, I’m home, but I’m totally ready to go. I thought I might have some things to do here…” he aimed a glare in Spike’s direction “…but not so much.”
“Great. Is Spike there? Could you put him on?”
Xander probably would have just sat there gaping at Angel through the phone, but Spike had already taken it from his hand. Vamp super-hearing came in handy that way.
“Make it quick,” Spike was saying. “Passions ‘s on.”
Xander couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or insulted to be getting the same treatment as Angel.
“Yeah, sure, know a couple guys,” Spike was saying. “Could track ‘em down…. Yeah, yeah, no time to waste, city to save. I’m going, I’m going.”
When Spike did in fact hang up the phone and toss it back to Xander before heading straight for the door, dark blanket in hand, Xander decided to go with insulted.
“Oh, come on,” he asked the door as it closed behind Spike. “Really?”
Slumping further into the couch, he resumed his contemplation of the phone.
”Good morning, fair lady. You look as if you could you could use some assistance.”
Willow blushes and giggles. “Hey, modern woman here,” she says, but she does let Xander take the second book bag off her shoulder.
“What? No time for the gym, so you decided to incorporate heavy weights into your daily routine?” Xander grunts as he heaves the back onto his own shoulder.
“Three tests today,” Willow explains, readjusting the loaded backpack she’s still sporting.
“Oh, please, I’m sure you’ve already got the books memorized. Speaking of tests, though…”
“Xander, I don’t have time to help you cram for your math test today.”
“Shows what you know,” Xander says, doing his best to look offended. “I don’t have a test in math today.”
“Oh…sor-”
He cracks a grin. “It’s tomorrow.”
“Xander.”
“What? You’re the one who’s always telling me not to wait ‘til the last minute.”
Willow just rolls her eyes.
“Ah, come on. I’ll give you twenty bucks.” Xander pulls the twenty dollar bill out of his pocket, flashes at her and quickly tucks it away again.
“Xander.” Willlow tries to look stern but giggles again. “Look, maybe I can help you after school.”
“No can do, Will. It’s my dad’s birthday. I have to go pick up a cake for him after school. My mom gave me twenty bucks.”
Willow frowns. “Wait a second - you were trying to bribe me with the money for your dad’s birthday cake?”
“Well, I knew you weren’t actually going to take it…”
They turn into Willow’s home room and Xander follows her to her desk, setting down the book bag and then just standing there looking down at her with his best puppy-dog eyes.
“Fine,” Willow says. “Meet me in the cafeteria and we can go over some stuff during lunch.”
“Thanks, Will, you’re the greatest,” Xander said, ducking out of the room just as the first bell rang.
When the bell rang again…and again…Xander came back to the present with a start, realizing it was actually his phone again.
He picked it up. “Hello?”
”Xander, I’m glad you’re there.”
“Spike went out,” Xander told Angel.
”I know. I sent him. Look - I need you to follow someone.”
“Are you sure you don’t want Spike to do it?”
”Huh? Spike’s busy. And not so great with the sunlight.”
Xander could practically picture the furrowing of the Great Brow.
“You must really suck in relationships, huh?”
”What?”
“Nevermind,” Xander said. “Who’s the guy?”
“What guy?”
“The guy you wanted me to tail?”
”Right. He’s a delivery guy. Blue Circle Delivery. He’s at their warehouse now. Hurry or you’ll miss him.”
Xander sighed. “You’re welcome,” he said, but the other end of the line was already dead.
”Thanks again, Will. Really.”
“Forget it. That’s what I’m here for, right?”
Xander pretends he doesn’t hear the wistfulness in her voice. “And thank god for that,” he quips. “You’re the secret of my mediocrity.”
Willow smiles. “My mother would be so proud.”
“Speaking of mediocrity, I’m off to Lucky’s for a freshly-baked birthday cake. And by ‘fresh ,’ I mean definitely put in the plastic sometime this month.”
“That’s silly, Xander, you should just bake one yourself. You could get one of those mixes. They’re super easy.”
“Clearly someone has forgotten the Great Cupcake Disaster of 1992.”
“Oh, come on, we were eleven. How were we supposed to know that olives didn’t count as a vegetable when it comes to oil? Or, you know, ever.”
They both pull faces as they each experience a vivid taste memory.
“Anyway, I’m sure you could totally do it now. And parents love homemade stuff.”
“Your parents, maybe. Remember those ash trays we made in second grade? My mother gave mine away in a white elephant gift exchange. And she actually smokes.”
As with most of their conversations on the subject of family, Willow seems to find herself at a point beyond quippage. Fortunately for Xander, he finds himself at the point where one turns to go to Lucky’s.
“See you later,” he says, giving Willow a wave as he walks off.
He decides he may try making the cake after all.
Once the Blue Circle delivery guy had delivered himself to what had to be his own piece of crap apartment, Xander headed back to the office to meet up with Wes and Angel.
“Well, the vivisection confirms it,” Wes said. “It was most certainly a Kwaini.”
“So the species has evolved,” Angel said. “It’s become violent.”
“And really frustrated by the rush hour commute,” Xander added. “Who can blame her?”
“No,” Wesley said, “I don’t think so. My dissection uncovered an abnormally enlarged adrenal gland and I believe the inflammation was caused by this substance.” He held up small, stoppered flask. “I found traces of it throughout the Kwaini’s system.”
Angel picked up the flask. “Any idea what it is?”
“Well, it’s difficult to say under these primitive conditions, but what I can tell you is it’s synthetic. It seems to contain properties not unlike street PCP, though more metaphysical in nature, of course. I did identify Eye of Newt as one of the ingredients, but one suspects added chiefly for taste, rather than kick.”
“So what - this thing was in some sort of Hulk-like ‘roid rage?”
“Actually,” Wes turned to look at Xander, “there’s no consensus in the medical literature as to whether such a condition actually exists. Testosterone levels are indeed associated with aggression and hypomania, but the link between other anabolic steroids and aggression remains-”
Angel cleared his throat. “We may be short on time here, Wes.”
“Right. The substance would have been unlikely to provoke random acts of violence, though it would heighten response to stress and enhance innate strength. I also believe it would be a great deal more addictive than PCP.”
Angel nodded. “So it wasn’t someone it was after, it was after something.”
“Something being carried by Mr. Sketchy Delivery Guy,” Xander added.
“Did you see him picking up or dropping off any brown paper packages the size of a book?” Angel asked.
“Are we talking summer beach-reading book or Giles-size tome?”
“Um, beach reading.”
“Yeah, okay. He spent a good half hour in this warehouse that says Kel’s Exotic Auto on the outside. He came out with two of those.”
“That’s it,” Angel said. “That’s the source.”
“Okay, great,” Xander said. “So, what now - we head over there and rough ‘em up?”
Angel shook his head. “We don’t do anything. I head over there alone, do some recon.”
“How come you never let the rest of us have any fun?”
“Angel’s right,”Wesley said. “It would be unwise to proceed before knowing what we’re up against. Were we to rush in, we might find ourselves suddenly under…”
“Attack!” Xander cried as a trio of very undissected and apparently angry Kwainis burst into the office - one from the bathroom and two through the front door.
Angel headed for the pair by the door while Xander and Wesley focused on trying to hit the one from the bathroom with whatever office furniture was ready to hand. As Xander reconsidered and set back down the stapler he’d been about to throw at her, it occurred to him that maybe it really did make sense to send Angel into the difficult situations first.
“You were right,” Xander called out, as Wesley and the Kwaini grappled with a wooden chair.
Angel didn’t answer and Xander grinned to himself as he smashed a lamp over the Kwaini’s head. He may have owed it to Angel to make that concession, but that didn’t mean Angel actually had to hear him make it.
Suddenly another demon burst through the door - fortunately, this time it was Spike.
Sensing a turning of the tables, all three Kwaini quickly fled through the nearest available exit - if that’s what you liked to call the previously intact lobby window - but not before the one Xander and Wesley had been fighting had snatched up the flask of mystery drug.
“Thank God,” Xander said.
“Dammit,” Wesley muttered, “I had been hoping to study that further.”
“Hard to study when you’re Kwaini chow.”
“Kwainis are vegetarians, Xander.”
“Yeah, right,” Xander said. “You also told us they were peaceful, but I really wasn’t feeling the tree-hugging vibe just then.”
Wesley sighed. “I told you - it’s the drug.”
“Then they really need to find a mellower high. I mean, if those were the doves, I’d hate to see the hawks.”
“Wait a minute,” Angel said. “What did you just say?”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “Oh, good lord…”
“Wha-?” Xander started to ask - then it clicked. “Oh shit. You think that’s the master plan? Give that stuff to some really nasty demons and then set them loose on L.A.?”
“They could destroy the city,” Angel said.
Wesley shuddered. “In a matter of days.”
“Yeah,” Spike said, stepping further into the office. “Too bad he just wants the glands.”
Xander blinked away his imagine of the city in smoldering ruins. “Huh? Who?”
“Your evil mastermind,” Spike said. “He’s not after world domination. He just wants the their adrenal glands.”
“Huh.” Xander took that in. “Well, that’s…lame.”
“You don’t know what he does with them,” Spike said.
“Do I want to?”
“No.”
Xander nodded - he was so going to take Spike’s word for that.
“Wait,” Angel said, turning to Spike. “Did those things follow you back here?”
“Of course not,” Spike said, looking offended. “I followed them.”
“And it didn’t occur to you that we could use a little warning?” Xander asked.
“Well somebody refuses to put me on the payroll and issue me a company cell phone,” Spike pointed out.
But that somebody wasn’t listening. “They were sent,” he muttered, pulling his cell phone out his pocket and punching some buttons.
A quiet several seconds passed.
Whoever it was wasn’t answering.
“Kate, it’s Angel. Pick up if you’re there. If you get this message, get your father. Get him out of his house. He’s in danger.” Angel hung up the phone.
Xander frowned. “Kate’s dad is in danger?”
“Yeah, he’s mixed up with these guys. I went to see him this afternoon, tried to warn him he was in over his head. He must have told them about me. I’ve gotta get to him before they do. Spike - you’re with me. Let’s go.”
Xander sighed. “So this morning, in the subway…?”
“He wasn’t there to check up on his daughter,” Angel said. He turned and headed for the basement, Spike at his heels.
“Figures,” Xander muttered as they disappeared down the stairs.
Xander stands back to survey his handiwork. The kitchen is in chaos, but the cake ain’t half bad.
Sure, if you put the good half and the bad half together, you get lopsided, but it all tastes the same, right?
And, yeah, he probably should have followed the instructions and let the layers cool before he tried to put them together and frost them.
And, okay, if he hadn’t eaten quite so many spoonfuls of frosting in the process, he might have been able to spread it around more evenly, but who doesn’t need a little sugar to keep himself going sometimes?
Anyway, it’s done and it’s going into the refrigerator so the frosting can set and he’ll even have time to get the kitchen cleaned up before his parents get home.
Which he does.
Fortunately, the Harris family standards for cleanliness aren’t all that high.
Still, Xander has to admit to being impressed with himself.
Willow was totally right. And who doesn’t love cake?
He runs down the hall to change into a tee shirt that isn’t covered in frosting and dishwater and sign the card he bought with some of the change from his mother’s twenty.
He’s on his way back, birthday card in hand, when he hears his parents coming in through the back door.
“See, Jess,” his father says, “I told you so.”
Xander freezes.
“Maybe he stayed after school to study,” his mother says.
His father scoffs. “You seen his report card? Forget it. When are you gonna learn you can’t trust teenagers? Probably took that twenty and used it to buy candy and comic books.”
“He’s just a kid, Tony.”
“When I was his age, I already had a job. Learned some responsibility. All I’m saying’s: good thing we picked up this up when we had the chance.”
The doorbell rings.
“That’s the guys,” his father says, heading for the living room as he yells back over his shoulder. “Go get some beer from the basement, will ya?”
Xander hears his mother’s footsteps on the stairs. He breaks out of his trance and creeps into the kitchen.
A perfectly symmetrical, fully frosted, store bought cake holds pride of place on the kitchen counter.
Xander takes a deep breath, opens the fridge door, and pulls out his imperfect cake on its chipped plate. Yanking open the cupboard beneath the sink, he tips the plate, pushing the cake off and into the trash.
After a second’s thought, he tosses the card in after it.
He throws the plate in the sink and heads for Willow’s, letting the back door slam behind him.
Spike let the door slam behind him. Xander didn’t bother to gripe about it.
He looked at the clock on the VCR. Almost 10:30. Not that he cared.
“How’d it go?” he asked Spike, not too sure he cared about that either.
“They killed him,” Spike said. “Juliet Bravo’s father.”
Xander blinked. “Who?”
“Angel’s lady friend. They killed her dad. Vampires. Invited them in to kill him but wouldn’t invite Angel in to save him. Angel couldn’t cross the threshold ‘til his heart stopped beating.”
Xander shook his head, swallowed.“What’d he do?”
“Dusted ’em the second he got the chance, then headed off to kill the big boss. Bravo was already there. Poor bugger never stood a chance.”
Xander nodded.
Spike shed his duster and slung it over the armchair. He started on the buttons of his shirt, heading down the hall. “Comin’ to bed?”
“In a minute,” Xander said. “Got something to take care of first.”
He took a deep breath and picked up the phone.
Dialed.
It was picked up on the other end on the third ring. ”Hello?”
“Hey, Dad. Happy birthday.”
This chapter is a long one at 5350 words - maybe not six-month-wait long, but hey, at least there's a bit more than usual to sink your teeth into.
Hmm, so much to say...
First off, HUGE thanks to apreludetoanend for my all new, super cute, totally gorgeous LJ banner and layout! I enjoy it every day.
Second, I did actually write and post one thing this spring. It was a chapter of a Spander round robin story I'm writing with cordelianne, electricalgwen and reremouse called "Living Conditions". The first four chapters have already been posted at spring_with_xan and the last five chapters will be posted there on June 19th. It's a very fun story, so if you haven't yet, check it out.
Finally, I know I haven't given much reason for faith lately, but I do intend to start posting this story regularly again and hope to finish by the end of the summer. Seven episodes to go!
Title: So Crazy it Just Might Work
Chapter: Fifteen - "The Prodigal"
Pairing: Angel, Xander, Wesley, Spike; Spike/Xander
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: Probably not what Joss envisioned. Some bits of dialogue have been stolen from AtS s1 "The Prodigal."
Thanks: To reremouse and cordelianne for their support.
Summary: A slashier version of the first season of AtS in which Angel teams up with Xander instead of Cordelia (but not in a sexual way).
Part One: "City Of..."
Part Two: "Lonely Hearts"
Part Three: "In the Dark"
Part Four: "I Fall to Pieces"
Part Five: "Rm w/ a Vu"
Part Six: "Sense and Sensitivity"
Part Seven: "Bachelor Party"
Part Eight A: "Pangs"
Part Eight B: "I Will Remember You"
Part Nine: "Hero"
Part Ten: "Parting Gifts"
Part Eleven: "Somnambulist"
Part Twelve:" Expecting"
Part Thirteen: "She"
Part Fourteen: "I've Got You Under My Skin"
He’s surrounded.
Xander’s eyes dart every which way - up, down, front, side to side - but it’s no use.
No exit.
They’re tall, huge. They block the light.
His heart kicks into overdrive. He knows he should move, knows he must be getting further and further behind, but he’s frozen.
Lost.
Abandoned.
Pinned and about to be crushed.
If only he were bigger, taller, or maybe smaller.
Small enough to be invisible (he’s wished for it before), to slip safely through the cracks, out and away - but it’s not like it matters because he still can’t move.
Can’t speak, either, until suddenly, swiftly something sweeps in and he opens his mouth to cry out as a hand closes around his wrist.
Xander’s eyes snap up.
A familiar face looks back down at him and maybe he’s never been so glad to see it. He wants to cry with relief.
The grip on his wrist tightens - yanks - and Xander stumbles forward.
Now he just wants to cry.
“Damn it, Xander. What the hell is wrong with you?”
He shakes his head - can’t answer.
“Xander? Xander? What’s wrong?”
Wrong voice and wrong tone. Xander blinked twice and Wesley’s face replaced his father’s. Not so much looming as peering.
“Are you alright?”
Xander swallowed. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just…” He turned his head to glance around, taking in the subway walls, blinked again, exhaled. “I’ve been to this station before. A long time ago. With my dad. Got lost and then he found me. No big deal.” From their place at the bottom of the stairs, he looked across the wide platform to the tracks, where a trainful of confused passengers was disembarking. “Think they got it?”
Before Wesley could answer, they heard a man’s voice behind them on the stairs. “Crazy homeless guy got on at Central Street Station,” it was saying. “Went nuts. Started tearing up the car, threatened some passengers. It was one of them that pulled the emergency brake. They’re all still pretty shook up.”
“What about the suspect?” The second voice was a woman’s. Familiar.
Xander looked up just in time to catch Detective Lockley’s profile as she passed. Xander met Wesley’s gaze and tilted his head, indicating that they should follow.
“Gone,” the officer said.
“The call said it was a hostage situation.” Xander could practically hear Lockley’s frown. The woman just wasn’t big on things that didn’t add up. Probably why she was a cop instead of a…well, whatever you were when you didn’t have super-evil-demon-fighting powers but liked to help people who did.
The word sidekick did not float through Xander’s mind.
“It was,” the officer told her.
Kate’s voice turned fierce. “The suspect escaped?”
“Well, we’re still trying to get the story,” the officer hedged, “but it’s a little unclear.”
Xander flashed Wes a smirk.
“Unclear? “ Kate was clearly not impressed. “You have two dozen witnesses.”
“I know,“ the officer said, “and they are all saying the same thing.”
“Which is?”
“That the suspect went out through the top vent while the train was still moving.”
“He climbed out of the moving train.”
“They’re saying he was pulled out.”
“Pulled out by what?”
The officer didn’t answer. Xander smiled.
“Get statements,” Kate said, before marching over to the train.
Wesley turned to Xander. “I suppose that answers your question.”
“Sure, but now the real question is - when they fought over which of them got to kill it, who won?”
“And how insufferable is he going to be about it?” Wesley added.
“On a scale of one to ten,” Xander clarified. “Care to make a wager?”
“Starbucks, once we get back to the office. My money’s on Angel. And five.”
“And I’ll take Spike for a nine.”
“You’re on.” Wesley shook his head. “You know, it’s a shame there aren’t more demons to go around.”
Xander smiled. “I’d tell you you could say that again, but that’s just asking for trouble.”
Spike returned first, swaggering across the platform, smug smile firmly in place.
Xander turned to Wes. “Grande double shot white chocolate mocha with whipped cream and sprinkles.”
Spike cocked an eyebrow.
Xander shrugged. “Okay, so maybe the sprinkles are over the top, but I figure what’s the point of being gay if not for the freedom to order girly drinks without being called any names you wouldn’t be called already?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Pouf.”
“Exactly.”
Xander was still grinning when Angel walked up, Kate Lockley in tow. He nodded to them. “Xander, I need you to - “
“Clean up on Aisle 10. Got it,” Xander said, brandishing his hacksaw. “Can I take Spike?”
“Sure,” Angel said.
“Hey!” Spike protested. “Done my bit. Thought I might pop off to the pub for a pint.”
“It’s nine-thirty in the morning,” Wesley said.
“It’s four-thirty in Ireland,” Spike replied.
Wesley rolled his eyes. “Oh, right then, well as long as you go to an Irish pub…”
“Murphy’s opens at ten.”
“Come on, Spike.” Xander stepped into his line of vision and batted his eyelashes. “Help me saw up the demon and I’ll let you give me the play by play on how you kicked the demon’s ass and Angel didn’t.”
“All of it?” Spike asked.
“Every last gory detail.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Angel cleared his throat. “Wes,” he said, “I need you to identify it. It wasn’t talking. We need to know what it was and why it was on that train.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Kate…” Angel began.
Kate turned on him with a snort. “What? Instructions for me, too? Hate to break it to you, but I’m not one of your little sidekicks.”
“Hey!” chimed three voices in unison.
“We prefer the term ‘partner,’” Xander said.
Angel shook his head. “No. I was just wondering - what’s your father doing here?”
Kate turned to follow Angel’s gaze, frowned, and headed in the direction of a gray-haired man who was talking to one of the officers.
Xander stared after her for a moment, then turned to Spike. “Hey - what’s the date today?”
Spike just looked at him. Fair enough. Xander supposed that after a hundred years of existence, give or take, he probably wouldn’t bother to keep track either. He turned to Wes, who answered immediately.
“February 22nd - why?”
Xander kept his expression casual. “No reason. Just wondering.”
Kate returned a minute later, a trace of a smile on her face.
“What’s he up to?” Angel asked.
Kate looked back in her father’s direction. “I think he’s actually checking up on me.”
Xander looked away, holding up the hacksaw with one arm while he elbowed Spike with the other. “Let’s get it done and get out of here. I’m thinking - dismemberment, disposal, donuts. In that order.”
“You promised me a pub,” Spike said.
“Murphy’s doesn’t have sewer access, it’s about eight hours ‘til sunset, you’re flammable. We can go tonight, Tinder Boy.”
Spike glared but followed.
They’re fighting again. Still. Whatever.
About money maybe. Or booze. Or money for booze.
Picking up where they left off. Covering old ground.
Both. Neither.
Four hundred and fifty-second verse - same as the first - a little bit louder and a little bit…well, no, pretty much exactly the same.
Except it is worse, in a way.
People fear the sharp, shooting pain, but that’s nothing. You recover. At the ripe old age of thirteen, Xander already knows it’s the steady, chronic, relentless ache that does you in in the end.
He has to get out.
There are comic books at the mall. And chocolate bars. And he’s saved up just enough money for a couple of both. It’s raining, but he doesn’t care. He’ll walk.
He puts on his shoes, waits for a break in the shouting, slips down the hall.
“Momdadgoingtothemallbacklater,” he mumbles, slouching through the living room toward the front door.
“Hey, wait…”
Xander’s got an arm through his jacket and hand on the doorknob, when his dad’s voice stops him. He looks back over his shoulder but doesn’t move from the door.
“It’s raining,” Tony Harris says.
“I know,” Xander says, the heart in his throat making it hard to get the words out. “I don’t mind.”
“Don’t be stupid.” A familiar phrase, but not what follows. “I’ll drive you.”
“You…you will?” Xander exhales, slips his other arm through the other sleeve of the jacket. “Okay. Thanks.”
When the car is started up, his dad turns it to the country station. It reminds Xander of the times they used to drive to his grandmother’s place, an hour and a half up the coast.
Fun drives.
Better times.
Xander sits back quietly for a minute or two, Garth Brooks’ unanswered prayers giving way to Alan Jackson’s pleas not to rock the jukebox. The mall grows close.
His dad breaks the silence. “Got any money?” he asks.
It takes Xander a moment to answer. He can’t remember the last time his dad even offered to even him anywhere, let alone give him spending money.
“A little,” Xander says, trying to sound like he wouldn’t mind more, without seeming too greedy. Besides, he’s proud of having saved. It wasn’t easy.
“Good,” Tony says.
Xander’s heart swells. He can see the mall up ahead to the right.
The car turns left.
And keeps going.
“Hey, um…dad?” He doesn’t want to sound like he’s telling his dad what to do - that never ends well. “The mall’s over-“
Before he can finish his sentence, the car turns again.
Into a parking lot.
In front of a bar.
An upturned palm appears in Xander’s line of vision. “Hand it over,” Tony says.
It takes Xander a moment to process the request. His hands slips automatically into his jeans pocket, clutches the wad of one-dollar bills. “But…I…”
“Xander…” his father begins.
Xander doesn’t need to hear the ending. He pulls his fist from his pocket, holds it over his father’s hand, opens it and watches the bills and coins fall.
His father’s fingers close around them. The driver’s door opens. “I won’t be long,” Tony says, as if it matters anymore.
It’s still raining. The mall is just a few blocks away.
Xander gets out of the car and walks home.
“Xander? Xander?”
Xander looked up and over at Wesley’s desk. “Huh?”
“I’m fairly certain they don’t have sprinkles. I’m assuming a sprinkling of chocolate powder will do?”
Xander blinked. “What?”
“On top of the whipped cream.”
“Hmm?”
“On your grande double shot white chocolate mocha,” Wesley said. “I’m going to Starbucks now. If Angel comes up, tell him I think I’ve almost identified the demon but needed a break as I was beginning to go cross-eyed and…. Xander?”
“What?” Xander head snapped back up. “Yeah, cross-eyed, got it.”
“Are you sure you’re all right? Are we expecting a call?”
“Huh? No. Why?”
“You’ve been staring at the phone all morning.”
“No I haven’t.”
Wesley nodded. “Clever, then. You certainly had me fooled.”
Xander mustered a glare. “Weren’t you supposed to be taking a break?”
Wesley shook his head, grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and left.
“Where’s Wesley?”
Xander glanced up to find Angel standing in front of his desk. Xander shrugged.
Angel turned to look at Wesley’s book-strewn desk again, as if he might have overlooked Wesley the first time. “He was supposed to identify that demon from the subway. Was he making progress?”
Xander shrugged again. “How should I know?”
Angel frowned. “And he didn’t say where he was going?”
“I don’t think so.” Xander shrugged once more. It felt good - his shoulders were kinda stiff.
“When did he leave?”
“I dunno. Before.”
“Before what?”
“Before now.”
Angel nodded slowly. “So what you’re saying is that the office is still operating in linear time?”
Xander chose not to dignify that comment with a response.
“Why are you staring at the phone?”
“I’m not staring at the phone,” Xander snapped. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Angel held up his hands.
“What do you know, anyway?” Xander continued. “You haven’t even been up here.”
“I’ve been up here three times since you got back from the subway.”
Xander’s scowl turned to a frown. “Really?”
“Whoever it is,” Angel said, “you should just call and get it over with.”
“Who says I even want to call him? I mean, them. I mean, anyone. I mean, who says there’s even anybody I want to-?”
Luckily, Xander was saved from the embarrassment of trying to finish that sentence by the opening of the front door, followed by Wesley’s voice.
“I’m afraid they were out of chocolate powder, so they had to put on a drizzle of chocolate sauce instead, which of course would have been perfectly all right except that it was too loud in there to actually hear the barista and I think she must have taken my confusion for displeasure because she offered to make it a venti - an offer I’d certainly have declined under normal circumstances - god forbid we repeat last month’s chocolate bar incident - but given that you’ve been practically comatose the entire morning, I figured it couldn’t - oh, hello, Angel.”
Wesley immediately dropped the venti cup off on Xander’s desk and veered toward his own, setting his cup of tea down in the few square inches not covered in books.
“Earlier, I believed I had the demon from the subway narrowed down to three possibilities, but on the way to the coffee shop I considered it further and I realized it couldn’t possibly be the Ourstra, since you encountered no slime, and the Gresholz - well, unless there was a strong copper odor that you failed to mention …” Wesley trailed off as he picked an open book up off his desk and showed it to Angel. “So…would that be the demon you encountered this morning?”
Angel studied it for a moment and nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.”
“Her, actually,” Wesley said. “It’s a Kwaini. They’re always female.”
“That’s a neat trick,” Xander said.
They both ignored him. “Okay,” Angel asked, “what’s it say about disposal methods?”
“Well, it should be relatively standard. Burial on virgin soil, simple Latinate incantation…however...”
“What?”
“Well, it’s curious. According to everything I could find a Kwaini is a peaceful, balancing demon. Non-violent.”
Xander snorted. “Not the way Spike tells it.”
“Kwainis aren’t fighters by nature. They’re incredibly articulate, gentle creatures not even capable of the power and strength to keep up with someone like Spike. Perhaps Spike was simply...”
“Exaggerating?” Angel shook his head. “Normally yeah, of course. But not this time. I had to step in a couple of times to help.”
Xander smirked. “He so didn’t tell me that.”
“Okay,” Angel said, “so something set it off, maybe gave it some extra strength. Xander - where’d you put the body?”
“I stashed it in the basement. “ Xander blinked and shook his head. “And, wow, can we just take a moment to pause and ask when those words started just rolling off my tongue?”
Angel shook his head. “No time. Go get it and bring it up here so Wes can run some tests. Wes - see what you can figure out. The way I see it, we’ve got two big questions here: How’d it learn to fight so well and what would make a peaceful, balancing demon attack a train-full of LA commuters in the first place? I’m gonna go talk to Kate, see who was on that train.”
“It’s the middle of the day,” Xander said. “I can go.”
Angel was already grabbing his coat. “Police station has sewer access. Stay here and help, Wes. Call me if you find anything.”
The door slammed behind him.
Xander turned to Wes. “After I bring the body up, you’re pretty much just gonna want me to stay out of your way, aren’t you?”
Wes looked over at Xander then down at the floor. “Well, er, it may require a good deal of concentration to-“
Xander held up his hand. “Say no more. I’ll go home for lunch, check on Spike. ’Cause dissections? Not really good for the appetite. Call me if you need me.”
Xander breezed through his apartment door and straight to the couch, plopping down next to Spike. “I can’t believe it’s only lunchtime.” He glanced at the VCR clock and then over at Spike. “Is one-fifteen too late for a nooner?”
“Passions ’s on.”
Since Spike hadn’t actually bothered to look away from the TV, he didn’t get to see Xander boggle. “Please tell me you’re kid-”
But before Spike could tell him anything at all, Xander’s cell phone rang.
Xander fished it out of his pocket. “Hello?”
“Xander. I’m glad you’re there.
“Angel, hey! What’s up? What do you need?”
”Wes said you went home?”
”Yeah, I’m home, but I’m totally ready to go. I thought I might have some things to do here…” he aimed a glare in Spike’s direction “…but not so much.”
“Great. Is Spike there? Could you put him on?”
Xander probably would have just sat there gaping at Angel through the phone, but Spike had already taken it from his hand. Vamp super-hearing came in handy that way.
“Make it quick,” Spike was saying. “Passions ‘s on.”
Xander couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or insulted to be getting the same treatment as Angel.
“Yeah, sure, know a couple guys,” Spike was saying. “Could track ‘em down…. Yeah, yeah, no time to waste, city to save. I’m going, I’m going.”
When Spike did in fact hang up the phone and toss it back to Xander before heading straight for the door, dark blanket in hand, Xander decided to go with insulted.
“Oh, come on,” he asked the door as it closed behind Spike. “Really?”
Slumping further into the couch, he resumed his contemplation of the phone.
”Good morning, fair lady. You look as if you could you could use some assistance.”
Willow blushes and giggles. “Hey, modern woman here,” she says, but she does let Xander take the second book bag off her shoulder.
“What? No time for the gym, so you decided to incorporate heavy weights into your daily routine?” Xander grunts as he heaves the back onto his own shoulder.
“Three tests today,” Willow explains, readjusting the loaded backpack she’s still sporting.
“Oh, please, I’m sure you’ve already got the books memorized. Speaking of tests, though…”
“Xander, I don’t have time to help you cram for your math test today.”
“Shows what you know,” Xander says, doing his best to look offended. “I don’t have a test in math today.”
“Oh…sor-”
He cracks a grin. “It’s tomorrow.”
“Xander.”
“What? You’re the one who’s always telling me not to wait ‘til the last minute.”
Willow just rolls her eyes.
“Ah, come on. I’ll give you twenty bucks.” Xander pulls the twenty dollar bill out of his pocket, flashes at her and quickly tucks it away again.
“Xander.” Willlow tries to look stern but giggles again. “Look, maybe I can help you after school.”
“No can do, Will. It’s my dad’s birthday. I have to go pick up a cake for him after school. My mom gave me twenty bucks.”
Willow frowns. “Wait a second - you were trying to bribe me with the money for your dad’s birthday cake?”
“Well, I knew you weren’t actually going to take it…”
They turn into Willow’s home room and Xander follows her to her desk, setting down the book bag and then just standing there looking down at her with his best puppy-dog eyes.
“Fine,” Willow says. “Meet me in the cafeteria and we can go over some stuff during lunch.”
“Thanks, Will, you’re the greatest,” Xander said, ducking out of the room just as the first bell rang.
When the bell rang again…and again…Xander came back to the present with a start, realizing it was actually his phone again.
He picked it up. “Hello?”
”Xander, I’m glad you’re there.”
“Spike went out,” Xander told Angel.
”I know. I sent him. Look - I need you to follow someone.”
“Are you sure you don’t want Spike to do it?”
”Huh? Spike’s busy. And not so great with the sunlight.”
Xander could practically picture the furrowing of the Great Brow.
“You must really suck in relationships, huh?”
”What?”
“Nevermind,” Xander said. “Who’s the guy?”
“What guy?”
“The guy you wanted me to tail?”
”Right. He’s a delivery guy. Blue Circle Delivery. He’s at their warehouse now. Hurry or you’ll miss him.”
Xander sighed. “You’re welcome,” he said, but the other end of the line was already dead.
”Thanks again, Will. Really.”
“Forget it. That’s what I’m here for, right?”
Xander pretends he doesn’t hear the wistfulness in her voice. “And thank god for that,” he quips. “You’re the secret of my mediocrity.”
Willow smiles. “My mother would be so proud.”
“Speaking of mediocrity, I’m off to Lucky’s for a freshly-baked birthday cake. And by ‘fresh ,’ I mean definitely put in the plastic sometime this month.”
“That’s silly, Xander, you should just bake one yourself. You could get one of those mixes. They’re super easy.”
“Clearly someone has forgotten the Great Cupcake Disaster of 1992.”
“Oh, come on, we were eleven. How were we supposed to know that olives didn’t count as a vegetable when it comes to oil? Or, you know, ever.”
They both pull faces as they each experience a vivid taste memory.
“Anyway, I’m sure you could totally do it now. And parents love homemade stuff.”
“Your parents, maybe. Remember those ash trays we made in second grade? My mother gave mine away in a white elephant gift exchange. And she actually smokes.”
As with most of their conversations on the subject of family, Willow seems to find herself at a point beyond quippage. Fortunately for Xander, he finds himself at the point where one turns to go to Lucky’s.
“See you later,” he says, giving Willow a wave as he walks off.
He decides he may try making the cake after all.
Once the Blue Circle delivery guy had delivered himself to what had to be his own piece of crap apartment, Xander headed back to the office to meet up with Wes and Angel.
“Well, the vivisection confirms it,” Wes said. “It was most certainly a Kwaini.”
“So the species has evolved,” Angel said. “It’s become violent.”
“And really frustrated by the rush hour commute,” Xander added. “Who can blame her?”
“No,” Wesley said, “I don’t think so. My dissection uncovered an abnormally enlarged adrenal gland and I believe the inflammation was caused by this substance.” He held up small, stoppered flask. “I found traces of it throughout the Kwaini’s system.”
Angel picked up the flask. “Any idea what it is?”
“Well, it’s difficult to say under these primitive conditions, but what I can tell you is it’s synthetic. It seems to contain properties not unlike street PCP, though more metaphysical in nature, of course. I did identify Eye of Newt as one of the ingredients, but one suspects added chiefly for taste, rather than kick.”
“So what - this thing was in some sort of Hulk-like ‘roid rage?”
“Actually,” Wes turned to look at Xander, “there’s no consensus in the medical literature as to whether such a condition actually exists. Testosterone levels are indeed associated with aggression and hypomania, but the link between other anabolic steroids and aggression remains-”
Angel cleared his throat. “We may be short on time here, Wes.”
“Right. The substance would have been unlikely to provoke random acts of violence, though it would heighten response to stress and enhance innate strength. I also believe it would be a great deal more addictive than PCP.”
Angel nodded. “So it wasn’t someone it was after, it was after something.”
“Something being carried by Mr. Sketchy Delivery Guy,” Xander added.
“Did you see him picking up or dropping off any brown paper packages the size of a book?” Angel asked.
“Are we talking summer beach-reading book or Giles-size tome?”
“Um, beach reading.”
“Yeah, okay. He spent a good half hour in this warehouse that says Kel’s Exotic Auto on the outside. He came out with two of those.”
“That’s it,” Angel said. “That’s the source.”
“Okay, great,” Xander said. “So, what now - we head over there and rough ‘em up?”
Angel shook his head. “We don’t do anything. I head over there alone, do some recon.”
“How come you never let the rest of us have any fun?”
“Angel’s right,”Wesley said. “It would be unwise to proceed before knowing what we’re up against. Were we to rush in, we might find ourselves suddenly under…”
“Attack!” Xander cried as a trio of very undissected and apparently angry Kwainis burst into the office - one from the bathroom and two through the front door.
Angel headed for the pair by the door while Xander and Wesley focused on trying to hit the one from the bathroom with whatever office furniture was ready to hand. As Xander reconsidered and set back down the stapler he’d been about to throw at her, it occurred to him that maybe it really did make sense to send Angel into the difficult situations first.
“You were right,” Xander called out, as Wesley and the Kwaini grappled with a wooden chair.
Angel didn’t answer and Xander grinned to himself as he smashed a lamp over the Kwaini’s head. He may have owed it to Angel to make that concession, but that didn’t mean Angel actually had to hear him make it.
Suddenly another demon burst through the door - fortunately, this time it was Spike.
Sensing a turning of the tables, all three Kwaini quickly fled through the nearest available exit - if that’s what you liked to call the previously intact lobby window - but not before the one Xander and Wesley had been fighting had snatched up the flask of mystery drug.
“Thank God,” Xander said.
“Dammit,” Wesley muttered, “I had been hoping to study that further.”
“Hard to study when you’re Kwaini chow.”
“Kwainis are vegetarians, Xander.”
“Yeah, right,” Xander said. “You also told us they were peaceful, but I really wasn’t feeling the tree-hugging vibe just then.”
Wesley sighed. “I told you - it’s the drug.”
“Then they really need to find a mellower high. I mean, if those were the doves, I’d hate to see the hawks.”
“Wait a minute,” Angel said. “What did you just say?”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “Oh, good lord…”
“Wha-?” Xander started to ask - then it clicked. “Oh shit. You think that’s the master plan? Give that stuff to some really nasty demons and then set them loose on L.A.?”
“They could destroy the city,” Angel said.
Wesley shuddered. “In a matter of days.”
“Yeah,” Spike said, stepping further into the office. “Too bad he just wants the glands.”
Xander blinked away his imagine of the city in smoldering ruins. “Huh? Who?”
“Your evil mastermind,” Spike said. “He’s not after world domination. He just wants the their adrenal glands.”
“Huh.” Xander took that in. “Well, that’s…lame.”
“You don’t know what he does with them,” Spike said.
“Do I want to?”
“No.”
Xander nodded - he was so going to take Spike’s word for that.
“Wait,” Angel said, turning to Spike. “Did those things follow you back here?”
“Of course not,” Spike said, looking offended. “I followed them.”
“And it didn’t occur to you that we could use a little warning?” Xander asked.
“Well somebody refuses to put me on the payroll and issue me a company cell phone,” Spike pointed out.
But that somebody wasn’t listening. “They were sent,” he muttered, pulling his cell phone out his pocket and punching some buttons.
A quiet several seconds passed.
Whoever it was wasn’t answering.
“Kate, it’s Angel. Pick up if you’re there. If you get this message, get your father. Get him out of his house. He’s in danger.” Angel hung up the phone.
Xander frowned. “Kate’s dad is in danger?”
“Yeah, he’s mixed up with these guys. I went to see him this afternoon, tried to warn him he was in over his head. He must have told them about me. I’ve gotta get to him before they do. Spike - you’re with me. Let’s go.”
Xander sighed. “So this morning, in the subway…?”
“He wasn’t there to check up on his daughter,” Angel said. He turned and headed for the basement, Spike at his heels.
“Figures,” Xander muttered as they disappeared down the stairs.
Xander stands back to survey his handiwork. The kitchen is in chaos, but the cake ain’t half bad.
Sure, if you put the good half and the bad half together, you get lopsided, but it all tastes the same, right?
And, yeah, he probably should have followed the instructions and let the layers cool before he tried to put them together and frost them.
And, okay, if he hadn’t eaten quite so many spoonfuls of frosting in the process, he might have been able to spread it around more evenly, but who doesn’t need a little sugar to keep himself going sometimes?
Anyway, it’s done and it’s going into the refrigerator so the frosting can set and he’ll even have time to get the kitchen cleaned up before his parents get home.
Which he does.
Fortunately, the Harris family standards for cleanliness aren’t all that high.
Still, Xander has to admit to being impressed with himself.
Willow was totally right. And who doesn’t love cake?
He runs down the hall to change into a tee shirt that isn’t covered in frosting and dishwater and sign the card he bought with some of the change from his mother’s twenty.
He’s on his way back, birthday card in hand, when he hears his parents coming in through the back door.
“See, Jess,” his father says, “I told you so.”
Xander freezes.
“Maybe he stayed after school to study,” his mother says.
His father scoffs. “You seen his report card? Forget it. When are you gonna learn you can’t trust teenagers? Probably took that twenty and used it to buy candy and comic books.”
“He’s just a kid, Tony.”
“When I was his age, I already had a job. Learned some responsibility. All I’m saying’s: good thing we picked up this up when we had the chance.”
The doorbell rings.
“That’s the guys,” his father says, heading for the living room as he yells back over his shoulder. “Go get some beer from the basement, will ya?”
Xander hears his mother’s footsteps on the stairs. He breaks out of his trance and creeps into the kitchen.
A perfectly symmetrical, fully frosted, store bought cake holds pride of place on the kitchen counter.
Xander takes a deep breath, opens the fridge door, and pulls out his imperfect cake on its chipped plate. Yanking open the cupboard beneath the sink, he tips the plate, pushing the cake off and into the trash.
After a second’s thought, he tosses the card in after it.
He throws the plate in the sink and heads for Willow’s, letting the back door slam behind him.
Spike let the door slam behind him. Xander didn’t bother to gripe about it.
He looked at the clock on the VCR. Almost 10:30. Not that he cared.
“How’d it go?” he asked Spike, not too sure he cared about that either.
“They killed him,” Spike said. “Juliet Bravo’s father.”
Xander blinked. “Who?”
“Angel’s lady friend. They killed her dad. Vampires. Invited them in to kill him but wouldn’t invite Angel in to save him. Angel couldn’t cross the threshold ‘til his heart stopped beating.”
Xander shook his head, swallowed.“What’d he do?”
“Dusted ’em the second he got the chance, then headed off to kill the big boss. Bravo was already there. Poor bugger never stood a chance.”
Xander nodded.
Spike shed his duster and slung it over the armchair. He started on the buttons of his shirt, heading down the hall. “Comin’ to bed?”
“In a minute,” Xander said. “Got something to take care of first.”
He took a deep breath and picked up the phone.
Dialed.
It was picked up on the other end on the third ring. ”Hello?”
“Hey, Dad. Happy birthday.”