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Almost Me

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Story

Summary: One of the Scoobies meets a certain Magus

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Comics > Surprise CrossoverDeBrabantFR1511,790041,8785 Jan 045 Jan 04Yes
Almost Me


by Danii


Summary: Conversations at a bar.


Pairing: mention of X/Anya


Note1: Post-Chosen


Note2: Crossover with...well, that would be telling, now, wouldn't


it?


Note3: If I make any mistakes with the crossover...tell me but


don't beat me, k?


Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Nothing. I don't even own


the barstools they're sitting on. I don't even own his SHOES...I


just wish I did. Whose? Well, either of them really...


Distribution: -falls over laughing- you WANT this? Okay...well,


I'm not responsible for your judgement, but if this really does


catch your fancy, just email me and tell me where you're putting it.


No permission needed...just my name on it and an address so I can


show all my friends that others find my literary dribblings at least


entertaining. Unless you already have some of my stuff on your site


already --blinkblink-- and then just go ahead.


Dedication: To all the people who remember my stories. Sorry I


haven't updated, but Buffy the show has beat me down and I'm still


having trouble getting back up. Not an excuse, just telling you.


But the fact that you remember my fics and still bug me (and I mean


that in the most endearing way possible because I LOVE it) to finish


things means that I'm still on the road instead of just giving up on


them all together. Much appreciated, folks. Much appreciated. And


to Jason --I still remember the fic I owe you...I'm just trying to


make it better then a drabble ^_^




---------




One sits forlornly at the bar, his hand around the first bourbon


manhattan he ordered. Still hasn't finished it even though it's


been there so long that the ice is melting and the tumbler is almost


overflowing. There was one sip, and he's just stared at it since


then. His entire being would scream "beat" if it had the energy to


scream. Right now, it's more of a disgruntled mumble with a side of


tired sigh.




Another sits two seats down the bar, first drink gone along with the


second, third, and fourth. A still burning cigarette, bent, smokes


gently between his fingers and would catch his jacket if he just


moved one quarter of an inch to the left. Lucky for him and the


jacket that he's just too exhausted (among other things) to make


even that tiny adjustment. Well, one would assume it's lucky.


Doesn't look like asking him is a good idea.




A hand suddenly moves on the first to run through hair desperate for


a shower, the dark brown of the strands close to the dirt-stained


hands which glide over and through it. Nails bitten, calluses old


and hard, a finger catches and stops on the small satin band which


runs around his head connecting to the patch over his left eye.


Slowly, shaking...the hand returns to the bar.




For some reason, this action calls the attention of the other, his


light hair shining despite the dark of the bar and the dirt that he


hasn't had time to wash out. Cigarette twitches and moves with the


rest of his body to turn, once more just mising the jacket, as he


takes the man two seats over in with bleary eyes.




Tall, broad, young...but not overly so, and covered in occult


energies of some big happening not too long ago. Must have been in


America, he muses, or some other place 'cause even like this, he


woulda noticed something that big. He guesses America from the rest


of the package and something else he can't quite identify.




One eye notices the once over, turns himself, and looks at his


companion-by-chance. Blonde hair and blue eyes in a face that


probably twisted into a ner-do-well smile whenever it could. No


chance of a smile at the moment, but he can fell the "fuck the


world" attitude from here balanced with...ah, there's the guilt.


Another glance at the four glasses lined up next to the full one


he's holding confirm it.




Xander says the first thing on his mind.




"You remind me of Spike."




The actual speech seems to take the stranger by surprise, but he


recovers quick enough.




"Who?"




"Spike...um..." Whatever impulse has gotten him to speak has hidden


in a cave again, and the words feel stupid before they even reach


his mouth, "He was...well...not a stranger but certainly not a


friend. Can't fault him now though, can I?"




A blank stare greets him as his audience can't think of anything to


say, or even figure out if he wants to hear more. But the blonde's


mind is naturally curious about people like this, and no one's ever


accused him of being smart, so he doesn't turn either. Easiest to


leave the ball in his court, he thinks, and this one looks like a


talker. Not stupid, but a talker without any options, and that's just the


sort he deals with well.




"It just...it just sucks!" the younger man growls out, "I mean, I


hate him, and he fucked up everything, everything, and then he goes


and saves the fricking world and I can't really hate him now, can I?"




"I 'spose not..." he enters in what he hopes is a helpful gesture.


Even though he feels it, feels the tendrils of this kid's life


reaching out to entwine him into some mess or another, he can't pull


away. On so little, even as bleary as he is...he can't pull away.




"I mean, the guy sleeps with my fiancee...my fiancee! I left her at


the alter, but it's not because I didn't love her. I still loved


her, but it wasn't the right time and I was so scared of becoming


like my father because that stupid demon-"




Blue eyes perk and the Xander notices it even through his ranting.


His own browns widen as he realizes his slip.




"Um..."




He figures he ought to help again.




"Just keep going, luv. Pretty sure I can handle whatever you toss


my way."




This gets him another stare.




"Jeez, I don't know if you really -do- sound like him or if just


coming to here just makes -everyone- sound alike."




"Who?" he asks again.




"Spike, the...vampire of a bastard--"




Now it's the blue eyes' turn to widen. "William the fucking


Bloody?" He waits for a nod. "You think I'm like -that- wanker?


Don't know if I'm insulted or complimented. Definitely surprised."




"Well, there's the hair and the eyes and the fact that previous to


coming to this country I knew all of two English people ever. Well,


four if you count the crazy lady and the asshole. Well, the


younger, non-vampire asshole. His name was Wesley, but apparently


he's been-"




Xander is stopped by frantic and not-entirely-sober hands swishing


in front of him in a request for clarity.




"Yean, can't you just FEEL the Californian oozing off of me."




"Think it's covered by the depression, mate."




The two sit and think on that before suspicion slides into the one


eye.




"Why do you care, anyway?"




He just roles his eyes at this. Bloody hell, he thinks, thought


only the gals had that kind of radar.




"Don't." More suspicion. "Okay, do. But nothing behind it. Just


figured since I've been where you seem to be right now, and not a


soul was there to hold my head over the toilet, so to say, I'd at


least talk to you. Doesn't cost nothing, does it, and s'better then


staring at my glass."




"Oh, so you've seen your entire home town swallowed by a closing


Hellmouth then?"




Bloody hell, -that's- what that's from. He'd heard rumors and felt


the same sorta shakes that had been going around the globe for a few


months, but he'd had no idea that it had really happened. That


kinda shit...that kinda shit is big. Uses the big players, people


he'd got no place with and didn't really feel comfortable discussing


let alone meeting let alone knowing. And this scrap of a man had


been there?




"Hadn't gotten the memo yet then, Mr. I-know-about-what-bumps-in-the-


night?" the dark-haired man says as he finally takes another sip of


his watered-down drink, "Sunnydale, the California


Hellmouth...closed for business."




He wonders how he missed that.




"And you-"




"And I got to see friends, memories, neighbors, and the corpse of


my...of..." He's having trouble, so the other holds him up with a


steady hand. "Anya. She was killed in the battle to...to close it."




The cigarette is pulled from its exile towards his mouth and sucked


for its cancerous calm. As he pulls it from his mouth, the blonde


gestures to the patch.




"That how you lost that bit then?" he asks carefully. Could bring


up the girl, but that kinda shit is too close to his own heart for


him to stir it. Far too close.




A shake of the head.




"Nah," Xander responds, "Lost that before saving someone from this


wacked out preacher working for the bad guys. Woulda lost more if


it wasn't for that bastard..."




"The preacher?"




"Spike" the young man asserts while looking at his listener like he


didn't just switch topics out of the blue.




"Right."




"Guess I can't be mad about the circumstances though, right?" he


continues, "I mean, guess the powers that be just pick who's going


to do what, and we just have to deal with it as best we can."




"Strewth."




Suddenly, a hand is presented to the stranger, whipped back to be


scrubbed hastily against the man's pants, then presented again. He


stares at it.




"Name's Xander Harris. Figured, considering, I might as well get


that out, since...yeah, I suck. Good thing you know about this


crap. I can't keep my mouth closed to save my life. Well, I can


but-"




"Trouble for all of us, I 'spose." the other says as he reaches to


take the hand offered. God, this is the last step. He can stop


now, stop knowing this kid and leave things as they are, with him


only involved in 99% of the world's problems. He can push out those


tendrils, cut off this connection like it was nothing more then a


thread, even though he knows that thread is going to lead him like a


trail of breadcrumbs to even more trouble then he could have


imagined before.




But no one has ever accused him of being smart.




"John. John Constantine. Lovely to make your aquaintance."




The End...for now : )




********


John Constantine [I SOO John Constantine, by the way] is


from Hellblazer, one kickass set of comics [I Vertigo in


general since, well, Sandman, Hellblazer, Preacher (come on: Caleb


versus Jesse...anyone else want to see that matchup?), Transmet,


etc. so own my soul] that I recommend for anyone and everyone. John


always strikes me as an odd combination of Spike, Giles, and Xander,


so I figured "why not?" Might continue with this, might not. I


make no promises and will just wait till I see what people think.

The End

You have reached the end of "Almost Me". This story is complete.

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