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Lost Souls

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Summary: this is a retelling of my I want to be a cowboy story. I am leaving the older one up in case anyone want to read than one. It will contain new as well as old parts. Enjoy

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Highlander > Xander-Centered > Theme: Immortal XanderThewanderFR181133,580611332,38810 Sep 0812 Dec 09No

chapter eleven

Lost Souls 11

Tara froze as the man walked up to her.

“Hello, pretty, pretty,” he said with a slimy voice.

“No,” Tara whispered as she pulled back from the man. He was dressed in black leathers like most of the men here, but he had a string of fur hanging from his belt. As he closed in on her, it sunk in what they really were - scalps.

Human scalps.

“Let's take this outside,” he said, placing his arm on her and pushing her toward the door way.

{ Dawn. I’m going to leave her alone. The demons would get her, } Tara thought to herself. She'd failed. Just like when she failed Willow, and failed her mom.

Tara looked around the bar in hopes that someone would help but there was no one.

Then the man pushed her out the back door.


Xander wandered up to the bar, while keeping his eye on the blonde woman.

She was sitting across the room from him, talking to a man. Both of these people were out of place here.

At first, he had thought that they might be cops, but he'd soon gave that up as he got a better look at the woman.

She had been at the corner of his eye for last three weeks, always turning up where he least would expect, and always out of place. Her clothes were too new, too clean. Hell, the couples' clothes were just too well made - they had the looks of a rich coupled slumming, trying to get a taste of danger before running back home to brag about were they were and who they'd rubbed shoulders with.

Xander watched the couple as they sat, each talking on a cell phone and making notes. After a few minutes, one of larger patrons of the bar slowly walked toward them. As soon as the woman noticed him, she nodded to her companion, who in turn nodded back. Then they each reached for their wrist and made a rubbing motion.

Then Xander felt it a sensation that he hadn’t felt since Sunnydale - a 'Don’t notice me' spell! Almost the same kind that the Mayor had cast over the town to make people not notice things.

But the spell didn’t work, once you KNEW something was wrong, although it would sit in your skull waiting for you to have a moment of doubt to kick in - which was exactly the reason why he and his friends had never had it kick in on them.

Willow wanted to believe in something more than what kind of life she was living.

Buffy already knew about the darkness that flowed though the world.

And he had seen and felt it firsthand, as the stake he had held in the Bronze was driven into Jessie’s body.

And now someone was casting it again; but this one was small and held less strength than the one in Sunnydale.

But it was still a powerful spell.

And it was coming from the couple.

Just then a scream came in from the backdoor, causing those sitting around to laugh a little with comments about Jorge having some fun again.

Then the scream rang out again, causing Xander to stand and drawing every eye in the place to him.


Tara was crawling as fast as she could to get away from that man.

She screamed again as she felt his hands pulling her shirt. As he yanked the garment, tearing the cloth as it went, Tara let out another scream. She felt the kick from the man more than saw it. The heavy boots the man wore slammed into her side, driving the wind out of her lungs and breaking a few ribs as it went, and spinning her over and over into the alley wall.

As she lay there, she felt every little cut and scratch on her back and chest slowly closing. Before she could react, though, she felt his hands on her, squeezing painfully.

“Pretty, pretty,” he laughed, his foul breath caressing her ears. “You are going to give one hell of a ride before I take your head.”

“Oh Goddess,” Tara whimpered with a sob. { Not like this. Any other way, but like this, } she prayed. She knew she was going to die some day. But not this way. Not with Dawn depending on her.

She called to her magic, hoping maybe she could get away, but it wouldn’t come to her, the terror driving her control of her magic away before she could focus on it.

“Help,” She called out weakly, pleadingly.

“Hey!” A voice called out as a fresh wave of pain pounded into her head. "The lady doesn’t seem to be all that in to you.”

Her assailant racked his clawed hands across Tara’s chest as he spun around to face the voice.

Standing a few feet away watching them was a man. He seemed familiar to Tara, but she couldn’t place where she might have known him.

“Boy,” the would-be rapist snarled, “you need to leave. If the bitch is any good, I might leave her for you.”

“No, please,” Tara begged. She tried again to pull up her magic to help, but she was just too terrified for it to come to her.

“Yeah,” Xander replied looking down at the hurting woman, “that's the thing. I can't just leave her here with you.”

“Look man,” the biker said, looking at Xander once more. “My dick's hard right now. And I don’t share. If you don’t leave, I’ll be fucking this bitch over your dead body.”

“Nope, can't leave.” Xander replied again, pulling a sword from under his long leather duster. “I am Alexander Harris. Prepare to die.”

And with that he lunged at the man.

Tara gasped as she heard the man speak his name. She had heard it enough around the Summers' home. She knew Willow and Buffy would talk about him when they were alone, or when they would talk to that woman, Faith. She could remember he had been there when this nightmare had started. She had dreamed of him hunting for her and Dawn to help her like some wandering Knight of old.

*Just a few minutes earlier.*

Xander walked out the back door as the eyes of the others in the club watched him go, most of the occupants getting up and walking out the front door. No one wanted to be a witness to the young man wearing Sons of the Reaper colors meeting up the one of the Warlords men.

Someone was going to die in that back alley and the smart money was on the Warlord. But when the Sons found out, there would be hell to pay for someone.

As the door closed behind Xander, he saw the large man kick the girl, driving her into the alley wall.

That was the last straw for him.

As he opened his mouth, he could recall the times that he acted this way. And Buffy's telling him to put a leash on his inner macho pig.

But here and now, there was no Buffy to fight the bad guy - just him and his sword. And from the feeling he was picking up, the tall man was powerful and old. And he was in so much trouble.

Where was a short blonde girl when you needed one?


It was a dirty fight from the start.

Both men went after each other with a drive that would have been suicide if they hadn't healed as fast as they did. Xander's smaller sword smashing into the other man's much larger broad sword caused sparks to fly.

Tara pulled herself up into a ball, almost sobbing with each clash and lost in the dark nightmare in her mind. In her mind, she was a prize for the men. To the victor goes the spoils.

She had fantasized about this growing up. About a knight to come save her, to take her away. And as she grew, the male knight had been replaced with a warrior woman.

But to be here, with two men trying to kill each other while she watched, it was too much.

She could run. Well, she would if she could have moved. She could barely think as another flash of light from the swords lit up the alley way.

Xander drove his shoulder into the man driving him back. The man had moved steadily closer and closer to him, crowding him 'til it was almost impossible to swing his sword. But as he did so, the man drove the hilt of his sword into the top of Xander's head, knocking him to the ground.

Xander almost didn’t get his sword up to block as the huge broad sword was driven down at him. Metal clashed again, but this time, there was different sound - a popping noise.

Rolling away from the larger man, Xander looked at his sword - it was breaking.

“Man, I knew I shouldn't have bought this off E-bay.”

Then they were closing again.

Xander had no choice but to fight. He could try to run, but the bloodlust in the other's eyes was a sign, he would just let him go. And then there was the girl to think about. She would suffer at this animal's hands.

“Why me?” he whispered as the large sword once again drove him to his knees. The large man stuck again and again, each blow gaining strength and each blow bending his sword just a little more.

Until -


The metal fragments flew back, cutting him as they went.

Xander rolled away again, holding a sliver of steel and brass that at one time had been his sword.

“Time to die,” the larger man yelled. “Then the woman!”

Then, screaming a primal call, he swung again - only this time, not at the broken sword, but Xander's head.

And this time, Xander didn’t roll away, he rolled under the man, knocking him from his feet and throwing himself on top the man.

And with the broken blade, he stabbed over and over again into the man, pulling himself up the man, each blow striking and drawing blood. First the legs, then the groin, then stomach, and only stopping at the chest as the man stopped moving.

Then he pulled up his opponent's broad sword as he stood looking down at prone man. Small bolts of lighting were dancing along his cuts, slowing sealing them.

Xander knew what he had to do, so he raised the man's sword over his head and drove it down, biting deep into the asphalt under him as the blade smoothly removed the head from the fallen man.

“There can be only one,” Xander whispered.

Then he knew pain as the Quickening from the fallen Immortal speared him.

Screams ripped from him as the memories, the skills, everything that made the fallen man who he was, was driven into Xander's soul.

He could remember a small village in what was now Russia. How he had always wanted to be a warrior and protect his village. How he was captured and sold as a slave and placed into pits to fight for his life day after day. Of being found by another Immortal and taken to a fort and taught the ways of the sword and bow. Taught how to be a hunter and then once he had learned all he could, he was given his first death and kicked from the walls.

As he healed on the broken rocks below the main gate, he heard his teacher call to him, telling him to run and hunt to grow strong. That one day, they would meet and it would be the end of one of them.

That there could be only one.

And he remembered doing just that.

First, it was lone battles in the night, sneaking into camps and stealing what he needed, killing any who got in his way. 'Til he was finally strong enough to go head to head. And soon, he was leading raids.

He sailed with Vikings. Raided with Mongols. He fought the Crusaders and The Turks. He joined the Germans for their blitzkrieg and commanded Death Camps. He hunted for new Immortals, killing them where he found them.

And now that evil was apart of Xander's Soul.

And that stain that spread more into it.

He looked over at the terrorized girl, still pushed up against the wall of the alley.

Xander looked at her.

He really didn’t feel human at the moment. He was a killer, a hunter, a creature not unlike those he had hunted with Buffy. His needs were driving him. After every kill, Immortals felt a need, not unlike a Slayer's Hunger/ Horny need.

But Older Immortals had learned over the years to control it. But Xander, just a few years from his first death, had not the control the others had.

Looking down at the cowering girl, the need build in him, that need whispering into his ear 'Take her!'


Tara was so far beyond terrified.

She had seen death before. She had helped kill demons and other creatures with Willow. But this was on another level altogether. She had felt the edges of the lighting storm that had struck as her would-be rapist had died.

And now the victor stood over her, his eyes looking at her like she was a play thing for him.

A toy.

And some dark part of her liked it.

He wanted her. Not as a lover, but something to sate his needs on. Looking back at the dead body in the alley floor, was this any different? She knew that he wouldn’t really hurt her. Use her, yes - just as she wanted to use him - ever since that night she died when a spear pinned her to the wall.

She was lost under the pressure of protecting Dawn and herself and the things she had to do just to put food on the table sometimes.

But this was simple - just needs – clean and simple. No worry about what would happen next. Would the man try to kill her? Or worse, rob her?

She felt dirty with what she had to do. Dirty and used - that she was no longer worthy to go home or see her Willow again.

And she also knew that Willow would never take her back, anyway. She was now a demon of some kind, like Xander. Like the dead man had been. She knew that Willow and Buffy would have to kill her. And even if they couldn’t kill her, she didn’t know if she would survive that.

While she was distracted, Xander had moved closer to her. He picked her up, kissing her, the need stronger than ever and he was lost in it. He didn’t want this, really. At least, not here. A bed would be nice.

And he knew that the people in the bar would soon be out to see what had happened.

“Let's go,” Xander said huskily.

Tara could feel the need pushing tight against her. And she pushed back, the need going up in her as well.

“O-ok,” she replied, tasting the man on her lips and for the first time, it wasn’t that horrible, as he pulled her toward his bike.

“What’s happening to me?” she asked the wind as it whipped through her hair.


As Xander pulled out of the parking lot, the people in the bar slowly walked out, looking down at the dead man. Most of them were getting on the bikes and leaving as fast as they could.

One of the Hells Warlords had been killed here. No one wanted to be caught up in that net.

A Reaper had Killed a Warlord and it wouldn’t play good for anyone to have seen anything.

As the group broke up, only two people were left - a man and woman looking down at the man.

And the wounds to the body.

They had missed the fight, trying to find a good vantage place out in front of the club. Both knew that Immortals usually would meet and then plan for a meeting later, so that mortals wouldn’t stumble across the fight.

“He’s a animal," the man said looking at the body. He had followed his Immortal for the last three years and knew he was scum.

But looking down at the body that Xander had mutilated -

“He acts like one of the old ones,” the girl replied, also looking at the body. She had just started with Xander in the last month or so. "He’s nice and easy going 'til you cross him, and then he’s like this hell hound. He never stops 'til you're dead.”

“Damn. Glad he’s not mine,” the man said, looking down at the body. “I’ll report this. You get after him. There’s no telling what he’s done with that hooker by now.”

Shelly looked down the road that the bike went and shuddered.

**END PART 11**

The End?

You have reached the end of "Lost Souls" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 12 Dec 09.

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