Forever White Knight - "Helloween Knight"
I own nothing but my original ideas, and I hereby give those away for free.
If the owners of the people and universes I blatantly stole ask nicely, I will as always be more than willing to stop using them. But unless they care enough to contact me, I will assume it is just fine for me to write about stuff everyone knows never happened in their stories.
Oh yeah, and my atrocious spelling and grammar is all my own fault - no one has been able/willing to actually proof this even now, so other than Microsoft's spell check, and my own proof test (I have a program called TextAloud read it back to me verbally and if it sounds wrong I tweak it a bit) this is raw output from an acknowledged dyslexic writer with delusions of competency. Expect it to be of a quality consummate with the price you paid me for it, and you won't be disappointed.
Conceptual credits need to be tossed in the general direction of Nick Midian (for his Dark Reflection universe) and MacXavier (for his Jenny Ryan tales) If you haven't read these and have interest, please contact me and I'll send you URLs where you can find these wonderful stories which somewhat inspired some concepts herein.
Final note, I am assuming that familiarity with the original story exists, and thus did not bother to repeat most of the common scenes, instead focusing on those which diverge from the expected. To any novice readers, I apologize for the confusion this may engender, but for all the others, it should reduce the been-there-read-that boredom.
This is a modified/edited version of the story origonally posted here last July. Those who have already read that verson, may wish to just skipto Chapter 2, part of which was also a part of the origional story.
Forever White Knight
By Dana Short
Chapter One - Helloween Knight
Xander passed through Ethan's Costume Shop, watching out of the corner of his eye as Buffy and Willow spoke to the British sounding owner about some frilly old fashioned dress.
He was looking for a toy rifle, one he could add to his already acquired military uniform, to complete his costume and remain below his $5 budget.
But it was the plastic sword which caught his eye. He had already noted the distinct lack of rifles throughout the store, and at the same time, the over abundance of pirate outfits. But a pirate would never do. However, the sword... It had some possibilities.
Next evening, at Casa de Summers...
Xander approached the front door, clothed in a long gray peacoat, unbuttoned to show off the white dress shirt and black slacks he was wearing beneath it, and a sword deliberately left just-visible in a scabbard sewn into the lining of the coat.
Stepping onto the porch, he knocked on the door, and waited for Joyce, the Slayer's mother to open it. "Xander," she greeted, smiling as she opened the door wider, "Please come in. Buffy and Willow are still upstairs getting ready."
"Mrs. Summers, I know you don't understand, but please, don't invite anybody in after dark in this town. Please, it's kind of a local tradition. Just open the door, smile, wave your hand, and step back. Everybody will understand, but if for some reason we don't step in, then just leave us out side, never say 'Come In' or anything similar after dark - it's kind of like inviting bad luck." Xander answered as he followed the woman who was rapidly becoming a mother figure to himself into the house.
"Xander, I'm sorry. Willow's told me the same thing once or twice. But it seems so silly. As well as rude, not to invite someone in."
"Please, try. It just freaks me out to think of you inviting bad luck into your house. After all, you are rare, at least in my experience, a Mother worthy of her title. And I'd hate for anything to ever happen to you."
"Ok, Xander, ok," the woman said, shaking her head at the odd behavior of her daughter's friends since moving to this town. "So, what are you dressed as?"
Xander opened his coat a bit and gestured at his sword, "An Immortal from that Highlander series. You know, 'In the end, there can be only one'?"
"Oh, I like that show. The guy who plays Duncan, well, I certainly wouldn't hesitate if he asked me out for Coffee, if you know what I mean." Joyce said, her face lighting up, "So, who are you supposed to be, anyone I would know?"
"Nah, just a standard ancient Immortal, perhaps a shaman who has learned to use his quickening to power spells or some such, so as to stay mostly out of the game for the last several thousand years or so. One who died young, or else, one who has the ability to alter his apparent age through the use of Magic, so as to live longer in one place instead of moving around all the time, who goes by the name of 'Alexander'."
Joyce laughed, and said, "Well that is certainly original. I remember a witch called Cassandra, so I suppose a warlock or a wizard isn't too unacceptable based on the premise of the show."
"Yeah. I hope not. Not that there should be a test on this or anything later." Xander said, taking a seat on the couch to wait for his friends to finish getting ready.
Drucilla spun around the room dancing with her doll. "Mrs. Edith says that my Kitten will get all sparkly tonight. And the bad Slayer will go away to be replaced by another, while her best friend will become a ghost who haunts the night. Isn't it going to be a fun party Spike?"
Spike listened to what his lover said, then perked up, "The slayer you say, and her friends will get offed? Oohh, this is too good for me to miss. I think I'll go out and have a look see then, why don't I?"
As spike headed for the door, Drucilla said, "What a fun party this will be. I hope no one pokes my Spike."
As they walked towards the school, Xander caught sight of a familiar platinum blonde visage heading up a side street away from them. This caused him to nudge Buffy, and ask her, "Uh, Buff, you did remember to bring some stakes with you tonight, didn't you?"
Buffy rolled her eyes at him, and replied, "No, Xander, I didn't. Giles said that evil undead takes tonight off, so why would I bother?"
Xander pointed down the street where Spike passed under a street light as he turned the corner at the other end of the block and vanished from view, before replying, "Perhaps Evil Billy Idol didn't get the memo?"
Buffy was suddenly struck by a worried expression, before Xander reached into his coat, and pulled his own stake from an inside pocket, opposite the fake sword sewn on to the lining. "Here, take mine. If any one asks, you are Princess Elizabeth, Vampire Slayer Extraordinaire, and fairest lady of the realm."
Willow giggled as Buffy smiled back at him, and said, "Thanks Xander. I should have realized that just because they don't traditionally cause trouble on Halloween it doesn't mean that they'll cower and hide in their coffins all night long. I'd hate to have a chance to stake Spike, and have to let him go just because I was stakeless."
"No problem Buffster. I still have my cross, and if I have to I can scream like a girl for you to come and rescue me. My fair princess will come and rescue me if I scream like a girl won't she?"
Buffy nodded her head with a grin, then a frown crossed her features as she tucked the steak down her top somewhere, "I thought you didn't want me to come rescue you if you were in trouble?"
Xander shook his head, "No, if I scream like a girl, I want you to come rescue me. If I am yelling like a man, or just getting my head pounded by a normal thug like Larry, that's when I don't want you to rescue me. Trust me, if I am willing to scream like a girl to get your attention, I am more than willing to have my princess swoop down and rescue me then carry me off to her castle on the back of her white horse."
Buffy and Willow laughed at this, before Buffy pointed out, "Uh, Xander, you do know that I don't have a horse, or a castle? So there will be no riding involved, anywhere at any time, right?"
"Ah, but that's only in this reality. There may well be lots of riding in my dreams. Alas, though, only in my dreams." With that the group resumed their trek to the school to be assigned their packs of munchkins for the evening.
As Xander lead his crew of candy grubbers down one last street, he could see Willow and Buffy with their own groups both ahead and behind him, respectively. Unbeknownst to him, at that very moment, Ethan was in his shop preparing his spell, and as the magic swept out from it throughout the town, it brought several changes in its wake.
As the wave of magic swept up the street on which Xander stood, Buffy indeed became Lady Elizabeth, eighteenth century noblewoman and Slayer Extraordinaire, while his lifetime friend Willow, watched in horror as her body fell dead to the ground at her own feet, leaving her as nothing more than a ghost, dressed in the very revealing costume Buffy had tried to convince her to wear for that evening.
For his own part, Xander was replaced with the persona he had made up for himself, that of the 4,000 year old Immortal Alexander, once a king and a General, once a Shaman and a priest, practitioner of the arcane arts, and for the past thousand years or so retired from The Game after having learned ways to consistently alter his appearance, and to suppress the emissions of his quickening so that no other Immortals could detect and challenge him for the right to his head.
Alexander looked at the miniature monsters which chased the children around him, causing widespread panic. Looking around further, he saw the same scene repeated up and down the street. Swiftly drawing his sword, he prepared to strike one of the miniature terrors down when a nearby scream stopped him. "Xander, no!"
Looking up, he saw a young redhead running at him through the groups of children and monsters. Literally, as her body passed through theirs on her way to him. "They're just kids, all of them, somehow they've become their costumes." She tried to explain, coming to a stop before him.
Alexander looked again at the children, this time focusing on the arcane, and could see that there was indeed some sort of spell at work, some type of magical energy surrounding many of the small forms in the area. And none of them seemed to be actually hurting one another, apparently content for the moment to simply terrorize their fellows and watch them run in panic.
Looking back at the insubstantial girl before him, he asked, "Do I know you, Miss?"
The young woman's face looked crestfallen, and she asked, "Xander, don't you remember me?"
Shaking his head, he replied, "My name is Alexander, Miss, and no, I don't recall ever seeing you before. Are you sure we've met?" Seeing the redhead's nod he continued, "I'll take your word for it for the moment, as I have no idea where we are even, let alone how I got here, so obviously I'm having a problem with my memory. So, who are you, and where are we?"
The redhead frowned for a moment, before answering, "I'm Willow, and you are Xander, my best friend since, well, forever, and we live here, in our hometown, called Sunnydale, California."
Alexander looked at her, and asked, "Silicon Valley?"
She shook her head, and replied, "No, more like the Mouth of Hell. Sunnydale is closer to Los Angeles, whereas Sunnyvale is near San Francisco."
Nodding his head, Alexander looked around, and replied, "It appears then that there is some sort of spell over the town, and it's affecting my memory, and changing the children into monsters?"
Willow looked over her shoulder, and called out "Oh, Buffy! She can help. She's the Slayer."
Alexander looked where she was pointing, seeing a brunette dressed right out of the Elizabethan era who was looking around the street in obvious confusion while brandishing a wooden stake in her hand.
Trying to grab his hand, but instead passing her own right through his, she called out, "Come on" before running off towards the other woman.
Lacking any better plan at the moment, Alexander followed the ghost, and approached the obviously confused young woman. "Miss?" he called out.
Spinning towards him with her stake raised, the woman said "Stop right there. Who are you and what are you doing, and what is going on here?" she demanded.
Willow refused to listen to her, instead darting at her with her arms outstretched, calling "Buffy!"
As she came within range, the brunette's hand shot out with the stake, passing right through the torso of the redheaded specter.
"A Ghost! I will have to find my Watcher to deal with you." She cried.
Willow's face looked crestfallen as she said, "Buffy? Not you too?"
The brunette woman looked at her in annoyance, and replied, "The name is Elizabeth. Princess Elizabeth for a commoner such as yourself, should you even deign to address me. Not 'Buffy'"
Alexander chose this moment to interject, "Uh, Princess Elizabeth, I take it from your first statement that you have as little idea what is going on here as I do, correct?"
At that moment, she whirled around and threw her stake into the headlamp of an approaching car, shattering the glass, and calling out, "A demon!"
Alexander shook his head and explained, "That's not a demon. It's a car, an automobile."
As the car's owner stomped on the gas and screeched off down the street the self proclaimed brunette princess asked, "Well, what does it want?"
Bending down to retrieve the wooden stake from the glass debris on the street, Alexander replied, "Probably to get as far away from you as possible. A desire I can suddenly sympathize with." As he said that, he tossed the stake back at the confused young lady, and gestured towards the red headed ghost, saying, "She seems to think she knows what's going on, perhaps she knows where this Watcher of yours is. If so, good for her, but I've been avoiding the Watchers for a good long time, and have no intention of being seen by any of them if I can avoid it, so I will bid the two of you a good evening."
So saying he turned in the same direction the car had headed, and jogged up the street, away from the chaos in the immediate vicinity. Hearing a scream he turned a corner and ran in its direction. Not necessarily the wisest thing to do, but after over 4,000 years of protecting others, it was so basic to his nature that he no longer even thought about it anymore. Running towards trouble was an ingrained response, as much as one of Pavlov's dogs salivating at the sound of the bell.
The 2,000 year old Master Vampire Lucien LaCroix was flying above the strange small town he had found himself in a short while ago.
He had suddenly come to his awareness in the middle of a street filled with children and miniature versions of monsters worthy of a horror film.
The last coherent memory he had was of getting drunk in his apartments above The Raven, the bar in Toronto he had purchased from his daughter to be near his favorite Childe, Nichola.
He had recently followed that Childe's wishes, and after over 800 years together, had destroyed him. His golden one, the shining light in his eternal darkness.
And now he was here. In some small town surrounded by tiny creatures from mortal man's nightmares. It made no sense. Add to that the fact that he felt a long time had passed, even though he could not remember it.
And this place, it felt, powerful. He had never felt such a sensation before, it was like something in the very air called to the darkest part of his soul.
So far, all he had done was take to the sky to survey the area, trying to figure out what was going on.
A scream from almost immediately below drew his attention, and he silently landed on a nearby rooftop and looked down to take in the situation.
Alexander ran into the alley from which the scream had emerged. The sight before him was of a human woman dressed in some sort of a cat costume being ravaged by some sort of full sized monster.
Unlike the child sized creatures he had been seeing all evening, this one was larger than himself, heavily muscled, and had already literally taken a bite out of it's intended victim
The sight of her bleeding arm and terrified face decided him, and his inbuilt urge to protect the innocent drove him forward into battle.
Raising his sword, he called out, "Hey Chewbacka, why don't you try me instead,. and leave the pretty kitty alone?"
The monster turned towards him and growled, while the woman screamed, "Xander, thank god! Jojo the dog faced boy thinks he should have me for dinner, and not in a nice way.!"
"Lady, if I was you, I'd run back that way," Alexander said, gesturing over his shoulder, "and accompany Princess Slayer and the Ghostly Hooker to the Watcher. Oh, and if you see any flying monkeys or green witches, run. I'll take care of your little dog Toto here for you."
With that, he put the bleeding woman out of his mind, and instead concentrated on the rabid Big Foot wannabe which stood growling in front of him.
Trying to disable rather than maim or kill, on the off chance that this was still just another person, albeit full sized, trapped in their costume, he moved in and sliced at the lower leg of the beast.
His blade cut deeply, opening a bleeding slash, which took the beast down momentarily.
But even as he watched, the blood flow stopped, and the monster rebounded to its feet, and attacked him once more with renewed ferocity.
Another slash at its legs once more took it down, and this time, he used the brief respite to examine his opponent in a more mystical light.
While the creature was certainly of a magical inclination, he couldn't see any of the overlaying spell like effect he had detected previously on the mini monsters. He was suddenly startled out of his examination as the still prone beast used its position to bite deeply into Alexander's left leg, toppling him to the blood splattered concrete with a howl of pain of his own.
A quick kick at the monster while he waited for his Quickening to kick in and start healing the bite, he decided he couldn't afford to play nice with the whatever it was any more.
He rolled out of the way of another lunge from the beast as he struggled to his feet, his weight all held on his one uninjured leg, before he tried a thrusting stab at the lunging beast.
His stab missed, the beast weaving with unsuspected intelligence away from his attack, and it's claws gored his stomach in a fatal injury.
Recovering his momentum, he pushed back at the monster with his free arm, and brought the sword around for a final, almost instinctive decapitating swing, which took the head off the beast, and finally put it down.
He then dropped his sword with a dull clank and sunk to the ground in a wave of pain, and waited to die so he could start healing and get out of this crazy place.
LaCroix watched the odd confrontation below him, as the human with the sword stopped the hairy bear like creature from snacking on the girl in the costume, and sent her back the way he had come, before facing the beast in an effort to gain her time to escape.
He was puzzled by the man's initial actions, trying to wound rather than kill the slobbering creature before him, then seeming to examine it for something.
He watched as the man's lack of focus cost him dearly, first with a damaging wound to his leg, then after regaining his footing, he tried to simply stab the beast, but it's last moment dodge allowed it to penetrate the swordsman's defenses, and tear out his stomach in a soon to be fatal wound.
But apparently not willing to die alone, he managed with a final blow to decapitate his opponent.
And at the same time, he managed to draw LaCroix's interest.
With that, LaCroix stepped off the edge of the building, and flew to the bloody ground of the alley.
As LaCroix bent over the form of the fallen warrior he reached out with his mind, and using all 2,000 years of his experience, snagged the mind of the human before him in a soft, but iron grip.
Lifting the sword from the ground, he casually held it at the neck of the boy, unknowingly providing a threat to the Immortal's existence far greater than the mortal wound in his stomach.
"What is your name?" LaCroix asked the fallen form before him.
Alexander looked up at the figure standing in front of him, and answered in a thready voice, "Alexander."
"Tell me, Alexander, do you wish to live?" LaCroix asked, subtly increasing the pressure of the blade against the boy's neck without even thinking about it.
Alexander struggled against his fading consciousness as his body died from blood loss, and answered, "Yes."
LaCroix immediately lifted away the sword from the boy's neck, and in a quick motion used it to slice his wrist, cutting through the artery. Increasing his hold on the fading mind before him, he knelt down and proffered the bleeding appendage to the boy's mouth, "Then drink, Alexander. Drink, and live forever." He commanded, his willpower forcing the man to obey his command.
As Alexander's body began to swallow the blood pouring into his suddenly dry mouth in large gulps, LaCroix bent his head to the dying man's neck and bit down, releasing a torrent of the dying man's blood into his own mouth. As he did so, he came across some sort of prison deep in the young man's mind. It seemed to the vampire to be kind of cage, one which held great power and potential, and which was buried not just under the subconscious, but even deeper than that. Without a thought, the Ancient being shattered it's bars, allowing it free to flood the mind and body of boy before him with the heretofore hidden power, even as the boy breathed his last breath, and died, his blood surging with one last glorious pulse, before stilling into the relatively slow trickle which will tend to ooze from a dead body.
LaCroix stood up and stepped back from the body of his soon to be childe, amazed at what he felt from those few moments when he was totally connected to the dying young man.
He had felt age. Great age, more than twice his own. Which made no sense at all, for the boy was obviously a Human. He had also felt that strange source of power, the buried whatever within it's cage which he had freed in those last moments. And he had felt the true flavor of mind of the boy before he died. A mind which truly lived up to its name, as a Protector of Man. This one would be even more so the Knight than even his beloved Nichola had been, willingly throwing himself into harms way if it might protect another. But if that hidden wellspring of strength and violence he had sensed and freed in those last moments were to survive the turning, what a glorious Vampire he would make.
LaCroix sat on a nearby crate and awaited the rising of his newest Childe.
Deep within the boy's body, forces were at work. The cage the Ancient Vampire had shattered in the last moments had held the remnants of the Primal Hyena essence, which had possessed Xander the previous year. And even as he died, that essence had once again been given free reign over Alexander's body, sharpening his senses, enhancing his reflexes, and strengthening his then dying muscles. And then he had died, and the Vampire blood he had recently consumed began to do its work. The vampiric essence from the fictional Forever Knight universe worked almost like a virus, spreading from the blood in the boy's throat and stomach, and changing the cells wherever it went, imbuing them with an indefinable mystical something, making them stronger. His muscles, already enhanced by the Hyena essence, were strengthened again, and his already sharp senses were further heightened. As the changes continued throughout his body, another force was also at work, as the Quickening imbued to the body through Ethan's spell worked to repair the damage to his stomach and leg, and return his body to life. And as these two essences, one of life and the other of undeath, met, they combined, and became something else. And then the impossible happened. Alexander awoke. And a few moments later, came back to life.
LaCroix watched as his newest child opened his eyes. The eyes swiftly changed from their normal chocolate brown to a glowing yellow as his fangs extended.
His newest Childe sat up and looked around, his glowing eyes fixating on his Sire's seated form. Then he screamed, and LaCroix watched in awe as the eyes changed to a silver color, and his heart began to beat once more. With a lunge, his Childe sprung to his feet and threw himself at his Sire, swiftly overpowering the Ancient vampire, and attaching his mouth to the elder's neck. And he began to drink. And as he drank, LaCroix could feel his Childe in his mind. The strength of this one was unheard of, as he casually drank in all of LaCroix's essence, as easily as one of his kind would feast from a Mortal.
Alexander's first experience upon awakening was hunger. No, make that Hunger. A part of him realized he had been turned by a Vampire, a creature of myth as far as his 4,000 years of experience told him, a being as fictional as the demon he had fought and killed shortly before his most recent death.
As he sat up, he could smell a source of blood. Of food. And before he had consciously thought about it, he had moved, covering the distance between the two of them, and attacking the other in an instinctive attempt to feed, to quench the burning hunger which suffused his entire being.
And then, even as the oddly cold liquid poured down his throat, he found his mind devouring the mind of his victim in much the same way as his body was consuming its blood.
Every thought, every experience, that the being known as Lucien LaCroix had ever had was flowing into Alexander's mind. All two thousand years of it.
As swiftly as it had come upon him, the hunger was suddenly sated, and Alexander cast aside the body of the Vampire upon which he had been feasting. He looked down in revulsion at his actions at the slowly moving form before him as it held a hand to its neck and backed away from him in obvious fright at the actions of its creation.
Without a thought, Alexander leapt into the air, and flew away, somehow having learned the control over this new skill from his victim's mind, along with all the other new memories now swirling around in his head.
LaCroix watched as his Childe cast him aside, before leaping into the sky and flying away faster than any normal vampire should be able to. "What have I created?" he wondered, as he laid back against the ground to recover from the attack of his newly risen Childe. In all his experience he had never heard of a vampire who was born with such power already, nor had he ever heard of one with a heartbeat, and his Childe certainly had had that. He had both heard it, and felt it, along with the obvious body heat of a still living being whilst he was being drained both physically and mentally. Laying back and looking up at the now empty sky, LaCroix decided that perhaps he should find a room somewhere and rest, and wait for tomorrow night before he made any more plans or took any more actions. Wherever he was, it was not at all like his home, first the creatures such as the one his recent Childe had been injured killing, and then newly arisen vampires who attack their own sires instead of seeking Mortals off which to feed. All in all it was very unsettling. Very unsettling indeed.
Alexander flew above the rooftops of Sunnydale, his mind in a turmoil. He had done quite a bit in his 4,000 years of existence. He had witnessed the rise of civilizations, heck, he had guided the rise of civilizations, and had lead armies to conquer foreign lands filled with barbarians, all in the name of spreading the civilization to which he had grown so accustomed. He had learned, and had practiced magics, spoken with Spirits, and then, earlier this evening, fought with and killed a genuine Demon. He had fought and survived more Immortals than he wanted to contemplate, before he learned how to hide his essence from the others, allowing him to withdraw himself from the Game. And now, he was flying. Not in a plane as he had grown used to over the past 50 or so years, but unaided, by the strength of his will alone. And below him, he could see literally everything. His eyesight was so sharp that from this height he could easily make out details which he would have previously been hard pressed to see were he standing on the ground. The town below him was in chaos, literally. Monsters were rampaging on the streets, fighting one another, and threatening those few normal humans who were not yet safely hidden in a house somewhere. Here and there, fires were burning, and the occasional Emergency Service vehicle could be seen trying to respond to one or another of the several calls obviously being issued from the frantic citizens below. And here he floated in the air, like some sort of Superman clone. To say the concept and experience was surreal would be an understatement. Nothing in his very long lifetime had prepared him for such an experience. Spotting the flat roof of one of the many shops below, he allowed his body to drift down until he landed with a soft crunch of the tarry gravel below his feet.
He then sat himself down upon the roof, and wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling his body into a hunched over ball, as the thoughts continued to swirl through his head.
He was now a Vampire. An evil undead creature. From what the memories of his Sire told him, he would now be burned by holy icons, unable to tolerate any real food, have a true allergy to garlic, or any splinters of wood, and would be severely burned if exposed to the sun. On the other hand, despite these things, he would certainly be hard to kill. He could easily remember a time when his Sire had been stabbed right in his cold, undead heart by a stake wielded by his Childe Nichola. And another memory, one of particular note to the Immortal, was of the death of his Sire's Sire/daughter Divia. She had been beheaded, an act all Immortals know will lead to their final end. And yet, she returned from that as well.
It was as he was contemplating what that may mean for himself were he ever dragged back into the Game and lost a fight, when he noticed the object being crushed into his chest by his knees. Releasing his legs, and reaching into his shirt, he brought out the large wooden cross in his hand, and looked at it with wonder. LaCroix's memories told him he should be in great pain from the object. But all he could feel from his hand was the texture of the wood, and the steady thrum of his blood as it pumped in time with his pulse. His pulse. His other hand returned inside his shirt to lay against the warm skin of his chest, where it felt his heart beating steadily within. Whatever he was, he certainly was not dead. Or Undead. As he was contemplating this, the voices coming from inside the building below him finally registered, and he mentally reviewed the words he had heard but not consciously listened to ever since he had landed on the roof.
The first voice he had heard was that of some British man, calling out "Hello! Anyone home?"
Next, had come a familiar voice, belonging as he recalled to that ghost, Willow, who was supposedly his 'Best friend since forever', questioning, "Giles?"
And the British voice, supposedly belonging to someone named Guiles, had replied, "Janus. Roman mythical god."
Willow had then asked the older man, "What does this mean?"
To which Giles had replied, explaining to her, "Primarily the division of self. Male and female, light and dark."
At that point, a new voice, also with a British accent had intruded, saying "Chunky and creamy. Oh, no, sorry, that's peanut butter."
Then the supposed Guiles, ordered, "Willow, get out of here, now."
Willow had protested, saying "But", however she was cut off with a stern "Now!" from Giles.
Giles then addressed the newest voice, saying "Hello, Ethan."
And the smarmy reply came back, "Hello, Ripper" followed a few moments later with "What? No hug? Aren't you pleased to see your old mate, Rupert?"
The Rupert/Ripper/Giles guy, finally replied saying "I'm just surprised I didn't guess it was you. This Halloween stunt stinks of Ethan Rayne."
And it was at this point that Alexander's attention had been drawn. He now listened as Ethan replied to the supposed Watcher's voice with "Yes, it does, doesn't it? Don't wish to blow my own trumpet, but it's genius. The very embodiment of 'be careful what you wish for'."
The man, who seemed to have so many names, but who he had first tagged as Giles replied angrily, "It's sick, brutal, and it harms the innocent."
The man identified thus far as Ethan came back with, "Oh, and we all know that you are the champion of innocents and all things pure and good, Rupert. It's quite a little act you've got going here, old man."
As Alexander stepped off the roof, and used his new abilities to silently drift down to the street, Giles replied "It's no act. It's who I am."
Alexander slowly approached the door, moving with total silence, as Ethan snarled back, "Who you are? The Watcher, sniveling, tweed-clad guardian of the Slayer and her kin? I think not. I know who you are, Rupert, and I know what you're capable of. But they don't, do they? They have no idea where you come from."
Giles snarled "Break the spell, Ethan. Then leave this place and never come back." to Ethan as Alexander stepped into the room.
Alexander looked around, taking in what appeared to be a costume shop, and the two faced bust of Janus, with the glowing eyes in the rear, as Ethan replied, "Why should I? What's in the bargain for me?"
Giles stepped closer to the other man, and snarled threateningly, "You get to live."
Alexander started silently closing the distance between the two, unnoticed by either party, as Ethan sarcastically answered back, "Oh, Rupert, you're scaring me."
In reply, Giles silently punched Ethan in the stomach, doubling him over, and causing him to gasp out, "And you said the Ripper was long gone."
Giles only growled menacingly, "Tell me how to stop the spell." in reply.
Ethan's only answer was a sarcastic "Say 'pretty please'."
To which Alexander responded, with all the menace he could insert into his voice, "Pretty Please?"
Both men looked up at him in shock, Giles, saying "Xander, what are you doing here?"
"Apparently, making this ponse tell us how to end the spell," Alexander responded, stepping past Giles and into Ethan's personal space.
As he did so, he reached out with his mind, synchronizing his thoughts to those of the man before him. With a slow, methodical voice, he asked, "How do I stop the spell?"
In an almost trance like state, Ethan responded, "The bust. Break the bust."
With that, Alexander stepped away from both men, releasing his mental hold on Ethan, and lifted the two faced head off it's pedestal.
As the Immortal Vampire Hyena hybrid lifted the bust off the alter, Janus looked into the core of the being he saw, and he was pleased. This was a being which embodied the very essence of Chaos, which was neither good or evil. The evil of the Vampire and the Hyena, balanced by the good of the Immortal and the White Knight mentality of the body's actual owner. The eternal death of the life sucking vampire countered perfectly by the unending life of the Immortal, The inhuman animalism of the Hyena countered by the caring and giving soul of the boy. A boy who had already made a mockery of several prophecies and destroyed the once carefully laid plans of both The Powers That Be and their opponents, by bringing a fallen Slayer back to life, even as her successor was Called to take her place. Janus was pleased, and even as the figure dashed the bust to the ground, Janus chose him as his Champion, and with a push of his power, locked in the physical changes wrought upon the boy, while securing the memories of both Alexander and those gained from LaCroix permanently into the boy's mind. While they would be no more a driving force in his personality than the now released remnants of the hyena, the combined 6,000 years worth of learning, experiences, and skills would forever more be at the boy's beck and call.
With the shattering of the bust as it hit the ground, the possession of Xander by the fictional Immortal Alexander faded, leaving behind a confused young man, who immediately lost his balance and fell to the ground, as his mind swam with the newly acquired memories, and he struggled to come to terms with the overload of sensory information now flooding his brain, from the sounds of the 3 heartbeats within the room, to the smells of everything around him, senses far sharper even than those experienced whilst in the throes of the Hyena possession the previous year.
"Giles?" Xander called out, even as he heard/felt one of the two others in the room with him move to his side, and the other start to edge to the door, taking advantage of the first's distraction.
"Xander? Are you ok?" came the voice of his mentor.
"Ethan. He's getting away." Xander said, as he tried to move from the floor.
Whirling around, Giles saw the door to the back of the shop swing closed behind Ethan's retreating figure, but instead bent over to help his young charge up from the floor. "That's ok. If he sticks around, we'll take care of him later. And if he leaves, then he is gone, and will be someone else's problem. In either case, I'll notify the Watcher's Council of his current location and this evening's activities. I'm sure they will be more than happy to have a little chat with him, should they manage to track him down."
As he helped Xander to his feet, he noticed that the boy seemed to be squinting against the light. "Xander, are you OK?" he asked again.
"Um, I don't think so." Was the soft reply from the boy. "It's too bright in here, and I have a really bad headache. Plus, I still remember everything."
"Everything, what?" asked Giles, guiding the student out the front of the shop into the night.
"Everything. I remember all of Alexander's life. And I remember all of the Vampire that tried to turn him this evening, the one he drained."
Giles suddenly came to a stop, and looked down at his young charge, asking, "Drained?"
Xander nodded, "LaCroix. A two thousand year old Vampire who was brought across by his daughter Divia as Pompeii was erupting. After Alexander was mortally injured fighting some sort of dog-man demon, the vampire decided he would make an excellent new Childe. He used a form of hypnosis almost, something like the Jedi Mind Trick from Star Wars to force Alexander to drink his blood and accept the change so he could save him - he reminded LaCroix of a previous Childe he had recently lost, one who had been his favorite Childe for over 800 years. But something went wrong when he tried to turn Alexander. LaCroix unlocked the Hyena, and it mixed with the Vampire essence, and the Immortal Quickening, and created something stronger than even LaCroix himself. His or rather, my first act on awakening was to drain my so called Master, and as I did so, I somehow downloaded LaCroix's mind. All his thoughts, his memories, his experiences, his skills, everything. I don't think I killed him, as when I left he was still moving, but I'm sure he didn't expect such a thing from me."
Giles was stunned. He had never heard of such a thing. "I never heard of a Master named LaCroix. Someone that old should have been in the records somewhere."
Xander shook his head, "No, he wouldn't. He isn't real. He is a different type of Vampire. One from a TV show. They aren't like the real vampires - for one thing they can fly. And they are far harder to kill. The Childe of LaCroix, the one he recently lost, had staked him once and left him in a burning building. LaCroix was dead by any definition. But he got better. And Divia, LaCroix's Sire? He himself once cut off her head and tossed her in the crypt with the corpse of her own Sire. It took her a while, but she came back as well."
Giles was stunned. "Thank god these are fictitious Vampires."
Xander nodded. "But Giles, it's not just the memories."
Giles stopped walking and gave a worried glance at the boys face. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Xander shrugged, "My senses. I can still feel everything. It's still just like after Alexander was turned by LaCroix. I still feel it all. I can hear your heartbeat, Giles. I can smell your fear and worry. I can literally see your body heat. Heck, I can see better out here in the dark right now than I used to be able to in the middle of the day. Everything is so sharp and clear. I think, whatever happened to me, I think it may be permanent."
Giles didn't know what to say. "Uh, Xander, are you saying you think you may have become a vampire?"
Xander shook his head emphatically, "No. I also hear and feel my own heartbeat. My body heat is slightly greater than yours, and I am really craving Twinkies at the moment, not blood. But the enhanced senses, yes, they seem to have stuck around."
Giles resumed walking, the boy still leaning against him for support, as he led him to his car. "Well, let's head back to the Library, hopefully Buffy and Willow will turn up there soon, and we can get this sorted out. I can see if there's anything I can do to help you get back to normal"
With that the two walked off into the darkness, as the god of Chaos looked down with a grin at his new Champion, and his soon to be Watcher. After all, old Ripper would be a perfect guide for the boy, and it would be interesting to see how he handled having two Chosen Ones under his guidance. Oh, Janus was sure that whatever happened, it would be interesting, and fun.