Chapter I: The Nexus Point
I don’t own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Outsiders. They belong to Joss Whedon and DC Comics respectively.
AN1: Fair warning. The character of Wilson is not a remotely nice or well-adjusted individual. His opinions should always be taken with a grain of salt. They do not always reflect the truth of matters.
~~My fate was written long ago. It is only when someone tried to force my fate to occur more quickly that I finally shattered the chains fate had forged for me. Only then was I truly free.
**September 5th, 1989
Streets of Sunnydale
Wilson watched the scene below him with a practiced eye. He didn’t even have to glance at his watch to know that time was evaporating as quickly and inexorably as the morning dew. He had been waiting weeks for this critical point in time.
In reality, a person’s life can be plotted through a series of critical nexus points. A nexus point being a critical juncture where a decision was made, or not, an action taken, or not, which shaped the events of that person’s life in some significant way. For the boy whom Wilson was watching, a scrawny eight-year-old named Xander Harris, one such nexus point was fast approaching.
Wilson smiled as an older boy began mocking the young redhead who stood at Xander’s side. Xander twitched, but he did nothing. It was only when the older boy pushed the girl, Willow Rosenberg, to the ground that Xander reacted. He threw a punch.
Wilson’s smile broadened. How long he had awaited this day. From a very young age, Xander Harris had been subject to abuse, both verbal and physical. For all that time the boy would let it slide off of his back, sometimes even with a smile and a laugh. It was only Willow’s appearance in his life that had made him strike back. The first change had occurred at age six, when Xander had hurled back insults at Cordelia Chase, who had been mocking Willow. Today, a physical attack against Willow completed the process that Wilson had long anticipated.
Wilson did not care for Willow. She was just a means to an end for him. Xander was so lacking in self-worth at this point in his life that it was uncertain if he would have ever struck back on his own behalf. Willow was Wilson’s catalyst. As Xander’s only friend, she was the only thing that might have provoked the desired response.
Wilson made his way down to the street level slowly. He was in no hurry. He wanted to let Xander get a few blows in. As Wilson got closer to Xander, the other boy, Blaisdell, gained the upper hand. Worse still, for Xander, Blaisdell’s friends were now getting involved. Wilson nodded to himself. This was his moment. “What the hell is going on here?”
Blaisdell and his friends spun, classic deer-in-the-headlights expressions decorating their stupid faces. They analyzed the situation with painful slowness by Wilson’s standards. Finally, the full danger to them of an angry-looking adult bearing down on them registered. Wilson could practically smell the fear of punishment wafting off the bully boys as they scattered to the four winds. Wilson ignored them. They had served his purpose.
Wilson knelt down next to the downed boy, pleased to see that he was rattled but not badly hurt, and extended his hand. Xander stared up at him, obviously slightly scared of the tall, one-eyed stranger, even if he was grateful for the timely intervention.
This was Wilson’s moment. This was the time to nurture that spark of violent defiance he had seen in Xander’s eyes. It needed to be done now, before the bullies and Harris Sr. extinguished it. Wilson opened his hand. “Are you ready to be strong?”
Xander stared into Wilson’s eye uncomprehendingly, not fully understand what was really being offered. At long last the boy nodded cautiously, causing Wilson to exhale faintly in relief. Xander’s cooperation was essential if he was to mold Xander into his image… his apprentice…
Wilson noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Willow finally hauling herself to her feet and carefully repressed the desire to sneer at her. It was far too early in his relationship with Xander to get him to discard such… dross. It was better to be polite. “Take your friend home, Xander. I’ll be seeing you later.”
The boy nodded and steadied his injured friend. “Please, Sir, what’s your name?”
Wilson smiled benignly. “You may call me, Sensei, for now, Xander.”
The boy nodded obediently and took his friend from the scene without questioning Wilson any further.
The one-eyed man allowed his fake smile to dissolve. Xander was ready to be strong. For his next trick, Wilson would deal with another lump of dross that Xander would be well shot of. Wilson doubted if Xander would even shed a tear after Wilson killed Tony Harris. Certainly Wilson wouldn’t. He picked up the duffel which contained his high-powered sniper rifle. Hunting season was open and Wilson wanted to bag the all too common Yellow-Bellied Scumsucker. A sneer crossed his face. Yellow-Bellies were always in season…
**Tony Harris was my father. His passing was both a relief and a tragedy. It was a relief, because the cycle of alcohol and anger was forever broken. It was a tragedy, because Tony Harris was denied any hope of ever becoming more than he was. I used to believe Sensei did what he did to save me. I know better now. Wilson was just another controlling monster who wanted to shape me without interference.
AN2: Yes, Sensei Wilson is Slade / Deathstroke
As promised, an update to The Outsiders. It should be noted that I have subtly edited the content of my prologue. The change is fairly insignificant, but still important.