Chapter 3: You won't like me if I'm angry.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. 'nuff said.
Xander blasted a skeleton with a jet of white-hot flame, searing the bones to ash. The Jet curled back, becoming a mace with which he waded into the fighting. Bone piles held no fear for him, and theree was no blood for him to mistakenly touch here. The mace changed into a staff, which he used to trip yet another skeleton, before smashing down with the solidified flames to shatter it's skull.
Confusion and fury heightened his powers considerably, the anger stoking the fires and the confusion giving them currents, making them easier to draw out, longer lasting.
Fury abated for the moment, as the last of the skeletons fell. Faith had seen him in these moods before, and knew better than to comment on his sudden rage. Xander stomped over to a barrel and kicked it. It exploded, along with several others, bringing his inner fire almost too close to full. It felt painful, but oh-so good. The bookshelves yielded a spellbook, one which explained how to throw bolts of concentrated holy-energy. Humour restored by the pun, he handed the book to Faith - "Look, Holy bolt -concentrated faith!" He snickered at the mildly horrified look the slayer sent him, before shrugging and looking through the book. both blinked as it vanished in a swirl of light, before her eyes lit up "Cool!" raising her hand, Faith sent a cross-shaped projectile flying across the room, slamming into a wall. The wall shifted, and grated open. "GREETINGS, HEROES." The figure's voice echoed with itself. A white cowl covered the figures face, and flowing white robes his body, not quite disquising the masculine form. Xander shook his head as he realised he was staring, then he subtly elbowed Faith, who appeared to be about to drool. "I AM TYRAEL."
A/n: hands up who was utterly unsurprised by who the figure was after the description. #raises hand# subtle, i'm not.