Two Types of Heroes...
I do not own, nor do I claim ownership of characters/concepts from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the minor crosses (count them!) used within.
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There are two types of heroes. The rest, they are pure type ones, heroic, a bright shining beacon to the masses of how to be true heroes, of how to be looked up too and admired, especially for having the strength to walk the dark and turn away, come back into the light.
They thought he was too, for his insistence on fighting despite his status as a normal human, his insistence on fighting despite the loss of one of his eyes, ever since revelation he had been taken as the shining example of how normal humans could make a difference.
He was held highest amongst all the heroes.
Ironic really, Xander thought, his hands shifting just slightly, adapting the heavy weight in his arms to a subtle shift in the wind, they should have seen years ago that he was no type one, he was no Xavier, Superman or JLA despite the image he portrayed to the world.
Their biggest hint was with Angelus and they didn’t see it then, how he placed the Earth and the people on it first over friendship and trust, how he had always placed Earth first.
They certainly should have gotten the hint after the ‘mysterious’ death of Magneto, just two years after the end of Sunnydale, they knew then that the only person who could have killed him was me, but no they refused to believe I could do it. They see me as a Type One and looked for other explanations, invisible infiltrators, magic.
If only they could get over that perception, then maybe, just maybe they will see me for what I truly am. I am no Superman, no Buffy, Xavier, I am not a bright shining beacon of hope to the masses in these dark and terrible times.
Xander flicked one finger and concussion hit his shoulder, a bullet wining its way from the rifle in his hands into the body of President Kinsley. The traitor who had sold his Earth out to Anubis was dead before his body even hit the ground, but Xander didn’t notice, he was already gone.
I kill them, Kinsley, Magneto, Zedd, Luther and worse and they don’t see me. After all, I am a Type One and type ones do not kill, no we put our pray away and plan for their inevitable escape and return to the fight.
No, I won’t do that, never have, never will.
I am a Type Two.
A dark hero.
More then any other, even Willow who walked the dark further then any other, the darkness is a part of us. But the type ones shun it, turn it into a regrettable episode to be regretted and learned from.
We embrace it, use it, turn it into a tool for our needs. We are the Punishers, the Bolan’s and Crows. Giles said it best himself, though he didn’t know one of us was listening at the time, Type Two’s are heroes simply because they do what must be done, what no-one else will do.
A killer and as far as society is concerned, a lawless murderer. The police hunt me, unknowing of how I stand visible in the open, and the public applauds me. Secrretly, they wish they could be us, bold enough to do whatever it takes yet still not cross that thin final line from Dark Hero into Villain.
I have not yet crossed that line, but like all the rest I walk it with every breath I take, every life I consign to judgement. I have little doubt that when the others finally see me, they will label me a fallen hero, a dark thing to be put away and forgotten about.
But until that day, I will do what I know must be done.
By night I will kill, show my true colours to the world, by day I will put on the starkly contrasting spandex uniform of the dedicated demon hunter and present my façade to the world.
They do not know me, not any more but that façade keeps me safe, keeps me sane. Even we need human contact, even we need someone to anchor us to the world, and even we need our ways of gaining intelligence. They are my way and my anchor.
I am hero, but a type two, a dark hero.
I am… Xander.