Turning and Burning, Chapter 5

[tigerstriped86.livejournal.com]

 Title: Turning and Burning, Chapter 5

Author: tigerstriped86
Fandom/Pairing: BtVs, Angel/Spike, Angel/Xander, Xander/OC
Rating: M (for Mature: Vampires, no, really!)

Disc.: All was began and is owned by Joss Whedon and co., various actors, Dark Horse, Mutant Enemy and ect.  I just really like Xander and Angel.  So sue  me, okay!  On second thought, try to avoid doing that.
Prompt 101: Entice
Summary: The plane ride back from Africa lends some insight that Xander really does not enjoy getting.  Here's to being the universal pinata!  Well, the undead pinata as it is.  AU from when Xander leaves Anya at the altar.

The story thus far: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4237605/1/Turning_and_Burning

I must be thirsty. I must be angry. These are the thoughts that haunt my mind. These are the only thoughts that haunt me now. Because I don't think; I don't care to. I don't cry because there is no point.

He stopped following me as I turned the key. I don't know how he did it, but I felt him, his eyes burning. Every inch of that dusty road while he burned against my skin in the dead of night. Nevermore, I think. Nevermore. I must be thirsty.

Fingers clutch my hair and run through. I suppose it must be misting because I don't sweat anymore. I can't sweat. Those aren't tears I am crying. That red puffiness it just doesn't exist. I won't think on it. I'll go back to Sunnydale. I'll go back to the Scoobies.

And another hundred people just got off of the train.

“Master?”

“Come to me, Charlie.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“No.”

I grab him, demonic hand on forearm and throw him towards the one creaky bed amidst a swarm of valiant, yet stupid, mosquitoes. My lips bruise his. I try to feel through the pain I can inflict. My fingers dig into his flesh, into his cold back.

“Hurts.”

“It's supposed to hurt.” I stop for a second to take a breath. Wait. Never mind. I suppose I just stop for a second.

And the ones who stay find each other by the rusty fountains in the guarded parks.

He is mine a second later, face down on the bed. Every inch of my tongue counting and leaping upon every absent crook and every last breath in his spine. I can feel them twitching in my head. The hate in my fangs pouring into him like a sieve.

“I was a good servant, Jakob. What is wrong?”

“You must never know.”

His back nuzzles into the touch of my chest and my hand moves around his body in various directions. He smells of shampoo, cleaned for me. Touched only by me. With only me. Forever mine.

And they meet at parties of friends of friends who they never know.

I don't have the strength to eject my sexuality deep into him. We spend time wrestling and huffing away at each other, biting parts off of each other's stagnant souls. And yet, there is nothing. I cannot inject all my pain. Some of it is mine alone to bear.

“The sun is rising.”

“Have I hurt you?”

“Only when you aren't here.”

“Good Charlie. You've learnt well.”

And another hundred people just got off at the train, and the bus, and the plane maybe yesterday.

It feels cold in front of the Summers house, unnatural somehow. Like all of the hope and some strange barrier that she has has left us all. I shiver. I shouldn't shiver, but there we have it. I walk slowly up the drive, pretending to exhale. My fingers move through my hair in nervous response. I ring the doorbell. The lights are dim. No one answers.

“Jakob?”

My eyes pop open as I sit in the chair next to Charlie. The book I'm reading has slid down past my lap and is currently traveling down my knee. I rescue it from my toes just in time to pluck the last sentence from demise. His hands are clamping my arm, not in the way that I had with him a mere day ago. His is a gesture of trust, mine of destruction. What is happening to me?

“You should probably know my real name.”

“That would be nice.”

“Eldridge.”

Charlie just smiles at me and then turns back to piloting. “You were tired.”

“I expect I'll be very tired these next few days. I have business in Sunnydale.”

“I will come with you, of course.”

“I suppose you must.” Every synapse was telling me to keep him in Los Angeles, but I couldn't listen to myself anymore. My head was full.

I dozed again, trying to read the book. I opened the door this time and out beyond it lay a prairie. It was midday and yet I did not burn. She was there.

“Who are you?”

“Grey Knight. The prophecy has come.”

“That voice, your voice.”

“Do you recognize it?”

“Should I?”

“You would not now.”

“Look, whatever you have to tell me, then just tell me and cut all the cryptic bullshit. It fails to entice me.”

Across the shimmering heat, she approached. Her hair and skin were dark. She stood before Eldridge, nearly naked, save for strategically placed fur. Her stance was low to the ground.

“I'll ask again. Who are you?”

“The Slayer.”

“I'm sorry. You must have missed the memo. Buffy is the Slayer.”

“For a short while yet, the Death Slayer shall continue and the Dark slayer shall not rise again. Grey Knight must be warned.”

“Who is this Grey Knight?”

“You are.”

“But I'm a vampire. There are rules, aren't there?”

She shook her head. “Not for you. For your soul was tarnished, but remains purely covered. You act out of instinct. You are part of the Order but are not. You are the anomaly, the Key's shield, and the Moon.”

“This is all well and good I suppose if you're into doomsday prophecy, and Lord knows I've gotten enough of those, but what in the bloody hell of all creation does any of this have to do with me?!”

“I've told you.”

“Care to explain yourself.”

“They give me no time. Just do not return, Keep yourself safe.”

“Do not return to where? I have to go back to them. They're my life. Okay, well, my death I suppose.”

“She will glory in your destruction.”

“Buffy would never do that.”

“Do not return. This is your warning.”

“Tell me what they've done.”

“You will protect her. You will protect all three of them.”

“Who?”

“The Death Slayer, The Red Witch, and the Key.”

“The Key? Who is the Key?”

“Under the Slayer's protection. Hidden from Glory.”

“I'm not afraid.”

“You will be.”

“Eldridge. We're approaching descent. You'd best wake up.”

Xander nodded grumpily. Great. Another prophecy of doom. That's all he needed now.