Xander walked down the darkened streets with the skill of a true hunter, the rain pouring down proved little deterrent to his task.
Ever since Halloween he had been hunting alone. Buffy’s tactics were rudimentary at best and her continued insistence that Angel be allowed to exist was a sticking point that he could not abide.
He was quite sure he should be insane by this point; of the three hundred regenerators Section Thirteen had managed to create, Anderson was by far the most successful, and the most unstable.
While regenerators were capable of great things, even their vaunted healing abilities could be overwhelmed given enough damage, but even with that knowledge, the Iscariot agent leapt into the fray with a wild abandon that awed and terrorized all around him.
His personal scout teams quickly gained a reputation as fanatics among fanatics, simply by following his lead. Most died, yet there were always more to fill the shoes of the fallen and follow Anderson into the very flames of hell.
Shaking the unneeded thoughts off, Xander continued his patrol. In all honesty, he couldn’t really claim that he wasn’t insane; every night he hunted the monsters in the darkness, every morn he fell asleep in bed, pained and exhausted from his battles only to rise again and continue the fight.
Of course, the fact was that was his normal routine, even before Anderson joined his mental landscape; the mad regenerator simply added a new flavor to his madness.
Turning down an empty street, Xander let his thoughts drift away as his senses were pulled into the sharp ‘hunting’ focus Anderson used when cleansing an abomination or purging some infestation the church had demanded of him.
Letting the regenerator’s feelings guide him, Xander followed it to a small alley as the muffled sounds of a struggle from within told him that once again Anderson’s skills were not to be underestimated.
Drawing a sword from its resting place, Xander entered the alley as the near manic grin of Anderson slid into place. “Look at this,” he said as the vampire looked up from its struggling victim. “If it’s not a fallen Angel,” he mocked as Buffy’s undead infatuation growled at the interruption.
“Well, well, well, I was going to drain this young thing here before working on a plan to crush Buffy, but this little interruption gives me a great idea. What say I turn you and have you go after the Slayer yourself, hmm? That way she either kills you, breaking her heart, or you kill her and I get to go after that new bitch.” Angel mocked as he slung the hooker he had found against the wall, knocking her unconscious with a sickening sound.
Growling at the undead thing, Xander felt the dark rage of Anderson starting to fill him as Angelus approached and with a near manic grin, the Paladin charged the startled vampire.
Angelus stumbled away from the corpse as he held his arm, waiting for his vampiric regeneration to heal the wounds he had received. The boy had actually been more skilled than anticipated forcing him to put a fist through his gut, but even then Harris had refused to go down.
Angelus had finally been forced to snap his neck, while he had really wanted to turn the boy he had dealt with fanatics like Holtz enough to realize what a headache they could be as vampires. Besides, it would be just as traumatic if he left the body for Buffy to find, maybe he could sneak the corpse into her bed while she slept.
His inner musings were interrupted as a foot of steel was shoved through his belly, gripping the blade Angelus looked over his shoulder at Xander and blinked. Not since his first true turning of Drusilla had he seen madness like that.
“Ye dare lay a hand on me, filth? Fer that alone I should lay ye low,” The Mad assassin of Iscariot growled as his blade started to sizzle in the vampire’s gut. While Xander had not been able to replicate Section Thirteen’s blessed bayonets, the boy had microstamped thousands of crosses onto the blade and handle to keep Vampires away from it. “Yet above and beyond your insult to myself, the blood of the innocent cry out from yer veins, the screams of your victims require restitution from yer unholy corpse,” the heavy Scottish accent growled as Angelus was lifted from the ground and held above the repossessed teen.
As the blade started to carve meat from the recently returned master vampire, Angelus struggled against the form last seen on Halloween night.
Of course Paladin Alexander Anderson had been considered a decent fight by Alucard himself.
Angelus never stood a chance.
The next night, Xander walked out of the burning warehouse Spike and Drusilla had been hiding in with their new toy. The Judge had been a particularly interesting fight, but with the reactivated regeneration it was not a particularly long fight.
Looking down at the small canister, Xander couldn’t help but snort at the irony of the label, printed in neat clear letters across the surface were the words ‘Angel Dust’
Behind him the balance demon Whistler wiped the sweat off his brow as he tried to figure out how he was going to explain this to his bosses.
(A/N) and Disclaimer- I don’t own BtVS or Hellsing. I thought this particular title was too good to pass up.
In case you don't know 'Angel Dust' is one of the names Alexander Anderson has.
Hope you all enjoy it.
this is marked 'Complete' this does not mean i won't add more to the series later, but it will most likely be a collection of short fics, much like this.