Come with Me if You Want to Live
I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Terminator.
Xander Harris was not having a good day. First he had missed going shopping with Buffy and Willow, a certain guilty pleasure in and of itself, thanks to that detention he had picked up for some imagined crime Snyder had dreamed up. That was strike one for his day. Then he discovered that Buffy was dressing as an empty-headed eighteenth century aristocrat, in an effort to impress Angel. As if Deadboy would be interested in one of the people whose throats he used to tear out, anyway. That had been strike two for Xander’s day. But this… this was the capper of a terrible day. Ethan’s, the only store Xander could afford, was completely out of military-style weapons. All they had left was an approximation of a sawed-off shotgun, which wasn’t particularly military. Xander sighed in resignation and began to leave…
“Excuse me young man. Am I to understand that you find nothing in my shop that you could possibly like?”
Xander turned to meet the gaze of a shifty-looking Brit character. “I’m afraid I’m on a very limited budget, sir… I had enough for a military-type weapon to go with my fatigues and not much else. Two bucks doesn’t go far nowadays.”
The Brit seemed to stand there for a long time considering before he apparently came to a decision. “Well, I feel very moved to make you a deal, my lad. I too come from a relatively poor family and am willing to make a deal for the money you have on hand. This is the last night my store is in operation anyways, so I would be losing money on what you don’t buy anyways. Now, you say you have fatigues?”
Xander nodded dumbly, not quite believing his luck was that good. His luck had never been that good.
“Excellent, you can go as one of those Terminator fellows, then. You may have that sawed-off shotgun you looked at and perhaps this old trench-coat. You shall certainly look the part then…”
What Ethan didn’t realise right away was that he had mixed his costumes up. The costume he had sold to Xander was not based on the terminator. No, he had sold the Terminator costume much earlier to another student of Sunnydale High. “Okay, sir. I’ll take it.” Xander was desperate and, while the newest one was more then five years old, the Terminator movies were supposed to be really good.
Xander left, hoping this costume might earn him some respect, or at least a little less derision, from his classmates.
Letting his hair go wild and forgetting to shave that day had really made Xander scruffy, something that he feared would not go with his ‘Terminator’ look, but he couldn’t help it right now as he stepped into Sunnydale High with Lady Buffy and Willow the Friendly Ghost.
Almost absently, Xander plucked a picture of Cordelia off of a poster. She was already campaigning for homecoming queen? He couldn’t believe that even she would start this early but then, that was Cordelia. He stuffed the photo in his pocket, deciding he’d perhaps take a shot at her later at how unhappy she looked in the picture. As Buffy and Willow continued to chat about Angel, Xander fumed silently and forgot about Cordelia.
Willow screamed in shock as she looked down at her seemingly dead body on the ground and was shocked as she saw wild lightning coming off of Xander in all directions as he appeared again, dressed in his costume, but looking a lot more scarred then before, as if he’d been through a war. Still, he was the exact same age as before.
Xander looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. “Do you know where Cordelia Chase is, tonight?”
Willow started in shock. “Xander, this is important. We’ve got to find Buffy and…”
Xander’s face darkened with anger. “I don’t have time to find this Buffy, Miss. Now tell me, where can I find Cordelia Chase?”
Willow squeaked in fright and quickly babbled out the location of Cordelia’s Halloween party. She couldn’t believe that Xander would talk to her that way. And there was no way that Xander would ever pick Cordelia over her or Buffy. Her jaw dropped as she watched Xander cross the street, hot-wire a vehicle and peel off towards the Bronze, where Cordelia’s party was likely just getting off the ground.
The man who possessed Xander Harris’ body knew his mission, and no slip of a girl, dressed like a streetwalker no less, was going to keep him from his duty.
Cordelia Chase sat primly outside the Bronze, waiting for her date to show up. She was getting more then a little impatient with him. He was already late, and nobody stood up Queen C! It was probably her irritation that caused her to fail to notice Larry Blaisdell coming up to her, a really cool leather jacket, a pair of sunglasses and a funky looking rifle being among Larry’s accouterments. “Cordelia Chase?” he asked with some sort of accent.
“Yes, Larry?” she asked, deciding to play along, hoping that her date would arrive soon. It was only as Larry began to point the all-too-realistic weapon at her that Cordy began to realise that something very strange and dangerous was going on here. “Larry?”
The only response was a blank expression, coupled with an ominous phrase. “Hasta la vista, baby…”
That would have been the end of Cordelia, had a convertible not careened into Larry just milliseconds before Larry could pull the trigger.
Cordy looked over at Larry, who was even now getting up slowly and grasping for his rifle, and then at the driver of the convertible. She was shocked to see Xander Harris in the driver’s seat, and still more shocked when he spoke urgently to her. “Come with me if you want to live…”