Part 13
When things began, when the wheels of events began turning, Xander knew from
experience that nothing stopped them. The last few days still seemed surreal
to him. The encounter with Kell'hiric demons seemed years away, and
everything that had happened since did little to convince him otherwise. He
was a Warrior, Spike was his mate, Buffy had renegaded...and Angel was
working for *Cordelia*.
Well, okay, perhaps not everything that had happened in the last few days
was significant, but still.
Angel's training schedule was a vigourous one. They started around noon,
when the vampire rose and worked well into the night. Spike would finish up
with patrol, drop Gunn off at Giles and return to the Magick Shop to help
with the last half an hour or so of his training and then take a weary
Xander home. Xander had been forced to quit his latest construction job to
meet Angel's demands, so Giles had organised for the Watcher's Council to
pay him for his trouble, despite his own and Buffy's estrangement with them.
Spike and Xander barely had anytime together lately. For, although, he was
never far away, the two were heavily caught up in their preparation.
When Spike wasn't patrolling, he was working with the ex-Watchers or the
girls with the researching. The Scooby Gang had never really depended on
Spike in researching sessions before, because Spike had always worked by the
rule that if it wasn't entertaining, he didn't help, he hindered. But this
was for Xander, and Spike knew damn well that the boy needed all the help he
could get if he was going to survive the coming battle. And if Spike had
anything to do with it, he was *going to survive the coming battle*.
Willow and the others had been shocked at just how proficent Spike was with
the researching - once he'd sheepishly donned a pair of reading glasses that
Xander had organised for him. His knowledge of ancient texts had even
surpassed Giles' and Willow, Tara and he had become fast friends, sharing
researching in-jokes and actually hanging out in a non-world-is-about-to-end
way. Xander had been amused and had teased the vampire endlessly about the
'Big Bad's' friendship with the witches, but secretly he was thrilled. Spike
was becoming more and more apart of the group every day.
On the actual prophecy, little progress had been made beyond Angel's
original interpreation. They knew there was to be a Battle between two
Warriors, one of Light and one of Dark, and that Xander was the Warrior of
Light. But as yet they were unable to determine what the rest of it meant or
how any of it was connected.
Like all prophecies, it worked on a simple principle - gibberish.
---
Xander sighed, closing his eyes and attempted to focus again. Aforementioned
Cordelia-employed Angel was standing directly opposite him. A rush of air
and energy let Xander know that Angel was charging him. Taking a deep
breath, Xander released his energy and tried to stop Angel in his tracks
like the souled vampire had taught him...and sent Angel flying into the back
wall of the Magick Shop training room.
"Ow," Angel grunted unhappily.
Xander peeked out from beneath scrunched eyelids. "Sorry," he apologised
sincerely, wincing and moving to help the vampire to his feet. "It didn't
feel like I pushed that hard."
"Xander," Angel sighed wearily. Vampire or not, he was really starting to
feel the brunt of these training sessions. "What did I tell you?"
"'Conserve your energy,'" he quoted, rolling his eyes. "'Don't overdo it'.
But what if I overdo it in the first burst and kill the demon or whatever?"
Xander argued. "Why drag it out?"
Angel gave him an exasperated look. He couldn't fault the boy for
enthusiasm, but he got the distinct impression that Xander was only this
enthusiastic to torment him. A hobby he had no doubt picked up from a
certain bleach blond vampire who was sharing his bed.
"It's not just about conserving energy, Xander," Angel explained as they
walked out into the greater shop area. "It's about the concentration of
energy." He decided to take a different tack. Wave a carrot under the
donkey's nose, so to speak. "You're capable of more than just shoving
forces, Xander. With the right training, you can manipulate small objects
delicately, hold huge forces in your grasp, maybe even minor transmutation,
teleportation..."
The donkey bit. "Teleport?" Xander latched onto the word. "I can do that?
Cool!"
"Well, no," Angel conceded. "I mean yes, you can probably teleport things,"
he explained, "but not yourself. It's too much matter."
"What if I cut down on the beefy sandwiches?" Xander asked him, eyes filled
with a childlike wonder. Boy read a lot of comic books, Angel recalled. A
lot of bubbles to burst there.
"MUCH too much matter," Angel verified apologetically. "Small things,
though..." he offered.
"Like the remote control?" Xander replied. "Stakes, car keys..." he trailed
off suddenly, a thought occuring to him. One he didn't dare voice. 'Like
behavioural modification chips?' A cold chill shot down his spine giving him
goosebumps. If he could...
"Yes, Xander," Angel was saying in a the tone of voice an adult uses when
humouring a child. "You can use your powers for the protection of good by
teleporting the remote control so you don't have to get up off the couch."
Xander listened vaguely, his thoughts still caught up on the possibility
he'd just realised. Spike's chip, he could remove Spike's chip.
The object of his thoughts chose that moment to enter the Magick Box, still
slightly battered from patrolling, in time to catch the end of Angel's
sarcastic statement. "You can teleport?" Spike asked, unconsciously
imitating the tone of voice Xander had used moments before. "Neat!"
Angel rolled his eyes skyward. "Why me?" he asked no one in particular. He
turned back to the two irritatingly boylike men plauging his existence.
"That'll do for tonight, Xander," he told the boy. "I'm going. Right. Now,"
he grated out. "Try to think about what I told you." And with a frustrated
flip of his coat he was gone.
"I will," Xander murmured belatedly, still too caught up in his thoughts to
even register Angel's frustration.
Spike peered at his lover. "Everything peachy, pet?" he asked.
Xander glanced up, but meeting that concerned blue gaze only set the rolling
thoughts in his head on overdrive. He looked away. "I'm fine, Spike. Just
tired," he replied. He reached out with one hand and hesitantly took Spike's
in his. "Let's go home."
Later on, at home, in the darkness of their bedroom, even with Spike's arms
wrapped tightly around him, his doubts began to eat at him. He turned in
Spike's arms to face the wall and let the tears well up in his eyes, but did
not let them fall.
If he could remove Spike's chip, if he could... Xander knew very well that
he shouldn't want such a thing. That no matter how much he loved Spike, all
of Spike, removing the chip was a sure way to get himself killed, or at the
very least, release a killer on the world. He couldn't live with himself if
he did that.
But there was a voice in the back of his mind, the part of him that lived
for Spike and would do anything for him, that whispered that he would do it,
should do it anyway.
Xander swallowed heavily and brushed away the wetness in his eyes.
"Pet?" Spike murmured questioningly in his ear.
"Spike," Xander replied. "Spike can you just hold me?"
Spike's arms tightened around him and his voice was rough with emotion when
he spoke, "Always, pet," he whispered. "Always."
Xander closed his eyes.
Part 14
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