GODs of War
God(s) Of War
By: Richard R.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners, the only things I own are the plots.
Summary: One costume provided by a certain chaos mage pisses off the wrong god - someone who knows what it’s like to be manipulated, and makes sure to rectify that situation.
(Multiple X-over) Rating “M” for mature for safety reasons.
Xander stared at Glory as they circled each other, waiting for some unseen signal. Feeling a calm he did not feel, he unsheathed both of the blades of chaos at his back – the semi-sentient blades, reformed and upgraded personally by Artemis and Hepheastus, were joined by the mystic chains that lead from it and wrapped around the arm bracers adorning his wrists.
“This is it.” He thought to himself. The entire weapon seemed to glow with golden light, eagerly waiting for it’s current master to unleash it upon those who dare defy them.
Glory rushed forward, almost a blur towards the foolish mortal who had been a thorn in her side ever since she started hunting for the key. Her smile was feral as she drew near, arms outstretched to rip him limb from limb.
Xander dodged backwards and unleashed the blades, hurtling them with uncanny grace in retaliation. The blades sang as it gouged deep furrows along her body. And wherever it struck the deranged hell-goddess, she would cry out in alarm.
Glory was starting to panic for the first time, never had a human been able to make her bleed such as this. Never had she been in such pain. “What are you?” She cried, staggering against the onslaught of someone she thought of as a mere mortal.
“Lady,” Xander replied, his tone cold as arctic ice. “I’m the one you wrongly pissed off by going after my friends. I am no one of great importance, save the one who shall give you everlasting pain. And that’s before I destroy you.”
“No one can kill me,” Glory ground out through the pain. She rallied for another attacked and lashed out, knocking Xander a few feet back. “I am a god!”
“Gods can be killed.” Xander said, recovering from the blow that would have instantly killed a normal man, let alone a slayer. “I should know. It’s not the first time these blades have crossed paths with a deranged god, or the fools that call themselves as such. And I swore to put you down like the mad dog you are for hurting my friends.”
Xander felt the energies building within the blades and at the precise moment, he flung them as he leapt skywards, dodging another blow from Glorificus. At the apex of his jump, he angled the blades into an arc as they sliced off both of Glory’s arms. The moment he touched the ground, he launched one blade to spear Glory in the gut and dragged her to him.
The hell-goddess at that instant knew fear. Unable to wrench free of the blade now impaling her midsection due to no longer having arms, she watched, helpless as the young man reeled her in like a sportsman in a fishing competition. A very small part of her that was Ben’s consciousness begged for mercy from the savage beast before her.
Xander would have none of it. Gathering his strength once she was near enough, he gripped the other blade in his right hand and decapitated her with one blow, a snarl of defiance echoing on his lips.
All the energy keeping Glory’s corporeal form together blew outwards like an immortal’s quickening, throwing Xander backwards. Once released, the energies sought out their original hosts – the ones still among the living, of course. - While the rest of the energy was absorbed by Xander’s bracers and blades, restoring the man to full vitality.
Dazed, and a little blinded from the light show, the young man got to his feet as he heard the sounds of running feet. He turned – blades at the ready, towards the sounds behind him.
Gasps of shock and surprise filled the air between his friends as they gazed at the former Scooby. Beyond him lay the decapitated body of the former hell-goddess.
“Xander?” Willow asked, unsure of the apparition in front of her, while trying to hold upright her lover who had just recently regained her sanity.
The young man paid her no heed, instead opting to turn and walk away.
“Xander!” Buffy called out, voice plaintive.
That made Xander almost turn around. Almost.
“What do you need of me, Slayer?” He answered, the coldness never leaving his voice. “From our last discussion, you wanted nothing more to do with me. And Willow never even contested that.”
Both of the girls winced at that. They were about to speak except Giles beat them to it.
“Glorificus,” The Watcher asked, having just arrived in time to hear that the young man speak. “Is she...?”
“She’s dead Giles.”
“I see.” Giles looked at the body, and indeed found her head a few feet away. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” This time, the youth turned, a smirk gracing his features. “Thanks yourself for the head’s up.” Then he turned away and bolted, leaping through the wreckage of the south wall with the grace of hyena within him.
Giles watched the young man go, halting Buffy in mid-stride as she made to go after him.
“Leave him be, Buffy.” Her watcher said, “He’ll come back when it’s time.”
“He can’t just leave us again!” The slayer said, anger rising, looking at Willow as she simply cried and held on to Tara.
“And who,” His Ripper persona slightly showing through as he glared at his young charge. “Pushed him out of the fighting in the first place? Granted I may have been part of it due to my lack of foresight before, but at least I owed it up to him to explain my stand before he left the first time.”
“I already said I was sorry!” Buffy said.
“Sorry may have been enough if you didn’t add insult to injury, Buffy.” Giles responded, “You’ll have to re-earn his friendship and his trust the hard way.”
Glancing back at the direction the young man left, his thoughts turned back to that fateful day that started it all.
All Hallows Eve: The day of reckoning, years ago.
As Ethan Rayne finished the spell, he felt a tremor pass through him. A feeling of dread filled him even as the spell started to take effect. He checked his surroundings and then shrugged, disregarding the notion of impending doom as this night was after all, in the hands of chaos.
The being that was currently inhabiting Xander’s body was glaring around him in mute rage. Someone will be in a lot of pain for this, he growled. No one dares trifle with me and gets away with it without gross consequences. Although this situation ranks of Janus’s doing, he’d deal with the caster first before he’d move on towards that idiot god himself. He vaguely heard someone calling out to him. He looked towards where the voice was coming from and was startled to see a scantily dressed redheaded spirit running to him.
“Xander!” Willow gasped, nearly out of breath in spite of her spectral form. “Something hellmouthy is going on. I fell down on someone’s doorstep and when I woke up and I’m a ghost. I don’t know what’s going on but it’s really, really, really, freaking me out.”
“Xander” arched an eyebrow at the spirit’s non-stop verbal spewing, chuckling at how this mere slip of a spectral girl spoke to him.
“This is NOT funny!” Willow stamped her foot in annoyance. “Stop laughing already!”
“I apologize, spirit.” The being inhabiting Xander’s body said in ancient Greek, “But I am not this Xander you speak of. Perhaps we bear a passing resemblance?”
“Oh no! Not you too!” She exclaimed, trying to reply in passable – but albeit, slightly garbled Greek. “If you’re not Xander, then who are you?”
“My name?” The man replied, thinking about it for a short time. He’d rather not be known by his better-known moniker here lest others might be watching. Besides, the young spirit thought him to be simply a costume turned reality, a man out of time. The mind of the boy whose body he now possesses was in suffering as it relived most of the being’s life. The nightmares he strove hard to forget now laid bare before the soul of the child whose body he now shares. Which was another good reason why he should disembowel the chaos mage and his foolish god for causing needless suffering. In every war, there must be a cause. This however, was senseless madness. In a split-second decision, he prepared his answer. “My name is Kratos. And I am but a humble Spartan. So how come I to this place?”
Willow just goggled. “Oh boy…”