I do not hold the copy right to Buffy the Vampire Slayer™ or Anita Blake: Vampire Slayer™ , nor do I claim to. All characters belong to their original creators, their publishers, and subsidaries. I make no profit from the making or sharing of this fanfiction. No slander, insult, or infringment is intended with the making and sharing of this fanfiction. Should the original creators find offence with this, I sincerely apologise and will remove this fanfiction from the internet if only he or she should contact me.
Important time line note: (ABVS) takes place just after "Narcissus in ChainsGuys,
Remember how the Moth-man divided me into suave-me and clutz-me? Well his magic wand-thingy did something else too. Remember how back in sophmore year high school, the first year the Buffster was here, how I got possessed by a hyena spirt? Well, I lied about not remembering. I remember everything I did. I didn't tell you girls cause I was ashamed of what I had done. Yes, Giles you were right.
Well, when that crazy zookeeper guy's spell went Kaboom, instead of all the spirits going into him or back into the actual hyenas... I ended up with them inside me. Don't worry, I'm still your Xander-shaped friend. I just have some extras. Like commando knowledge and hibernating primordial beast-spirits.
Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you is that they aren't hibernating anymore. They're awake and they want to... hunt. They want a pack and the line between them and me is fading. I'm leaving before I hurt anyone. I got some info outta Willie, which was kinda fun, about somebody who can help me find help. There's a shaman near Kansas City that knows something about animal possession and lycanthropy. Wolf-boy knows him.
I don't think I'll be as quick as him in controlling the inner puppy. Once I get there, I'm going to disappear until this thing is under control. When it is, I'll come back.
Willow wept as Tara held her. Anya was in a bit of denial, yet thinking about how that explained how he was such an animal in bed. Buffy hid her tears behind a mask of acceptance. There was too much going on at the moment to break down. She would cry in private later, where no one could see her loose it.
It was daunting and exciting to finally leave Sunnydale. Xander could never remember actually leaving the city limits but for that one brief summer after graduation. This time he made sure that his car wouldn't fall apart anytime before he got to where he was going. He didn't have time to stop and see all the things he had wanted to that summer. He breezed through Arizona and New Mexico as fast as he could, the desert heat reminding the beasts inside him of home. He spent a few sleepless nights in his car, going as fast as he could on the deserted back roads. He slept in roach motels to save money during the day and lived off of truck stop hot dogs, the heyenas refusing to stomach twinkies or vegetables. Before he knew it, Xander was on the outskirts of Kansas City, surrounded by prarie grass and corn.
A tiny dirt road cut a swath through the grass towards a small hut perched on a sloping hill. He drove up it, hopping that the car wouldn't decide to die a mile from the house. With all the pot holes in the road, it was a distinct possibility. Once he was there, he parked and got out. His legs were a bit numb and he had no idea what to do next. He was told that the shaman would be expecting him. Should he knock on the door? Just stand around and wait? Knocking sounded good.
Before his raised fist could make contact with the weathered wood of the door, it was snatched open and a wizened and wrinkled face peered out. "Ah, you must be the boy that Dick-head told me about. Please come in." The door opened further to reveal the interior of the one-room hovel. It was dark, illuminated by a small fire in a stone fireplace and candles perched around the room. An iron cauldron bubbling with some viscous substance hung over the fire. A ritual seal was carved into the packed dirt and filled in with salt and coloured chalk. Strange instuments were placed in physics defying positions (as in floating around randomly) around the room. A small bed crouched in the furthest corner, hidden in shadow.
"Ah... Dick-head?" The scene wasn't that wierd by Sunnddale standards, except for the defying-physics-part. That was new.
"You know him as Willy the Snitch. Honestly, what self-respecting man would allow himself to be called a penis? The again, it's Dick-head. He has no self-respect." Though the shaman was old, he spoke like of of the Scoobies. "Anyway, he said you've got yourself a bit of a spiritual problem. Got some primal hyenas livin' inside you. I've got just the place to send you. It's gonna be pricey though."
"How much?" He knew there had to be a catch. "No children of any type, no ritual sacrifices, no harm to friends and neighbours, my soul stays mine, and no demons." The shaman raised an eyebrow in question. "I grew up on Boca del Inferno. Just covering the bases."
"Ah. I want your car and some of those bright shirts you're wearing."
"Huh. I guess I can part with the car, but the shirts are pushing it. The car, one shirt, and matching shorts."
"Deal. Grab the stuff you want to take with you." The old man began puttering around, gathering up odd powders, liquids, and a thick and dusty tome. Xander went out to the car and grabbed his trunk. He had good memories of shopping for luggage with the girls in highschool. Two-thirds of the trunk was filled with weapons and magic supplies, plus some demon books. The rest held his clothes. Opening it up, Xander quickly grabbed a ludrid lime hawiian shirt and bright pink surf shorts. The old guy was wierd, he might actually like the colour combination.
"Put your stuff in the middle of the circle and hand over the goods." Xander did as he was told, dropping off the trunk and trading the clothes and his keys for a potion and a smelly powder. "Drink the potion, sit on the trunk, and when I snap, throw the powder into the air, straight up above you. It needs to shower down onto you and the trunk. Got it?"
Xander nodded. The potion burned, harsher than any whiskey he had tasted yet as flavourful as water. The powder was red and smelled like old blood and something from the underside of a Fyrarl demon's tongue. As soon as he sat, the shaman began doing a funny looking dance and chanting something archaic sounding to the tune of Don't Pay the Ferryman. Posing in a wierd piroette, he snapped and Xander threw the powder.
"All done. You are now in another dimension, one that is quite different from our own. This little pamphlet will answer all your questions. Thank you, have a nice day." The shaman shoved a paper into his hand and pushed him out the door. The hut vanished from behind him. Well, where the hell was he now?