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Its Always in the Blood.

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Summary: In moments of hightend emotional stress things are known to bloom. Relationships, and X-genes.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Marvel Universe > X-Men > Xander-CenteredMagnusXXNFR2115,4324228,35225 Jan 0625 Jan 06Yes

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Author: MagnusXXN
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story. BtVS & Angel belong to Joss Whedon, The X-men and the concept of mutants belong to Marvel.
Setting: Mid-third season of BtVS.
Version: Stand-alone.



Its Always in the Blood.


X: "So, what's the plan? We saddle up, right?"
B: "There's no 'we', okay? I'm the Slayer, and you're not."
X: "I knew you'd throw that back in my face."
B: "Xander, this is deeply dangerous."
X: "I'm inadequate. That's fine. I'm less than a man."
(Xander Harris & Buffy Summers, BtVS "The Harvest." 1x02.)

"You still don't get it. It's not about right, not about wrong.....it's about power."
(The First, BtVS "Lessons." 7x01)

"I am what I am. Someone has to be."
(Reynald de Chatillon, "Kingdom of Heaven."


******************


Sunnydale, California. 1999.

"I could do anything to you right now, and you want me to. I can make you scream," she tells him breathlessly. Despite her petite frame, she is easily able to subdue the larger man and pin him to the bed. Her hands roam his chest, only slowing to pinch his left nipple playfully before ending their journey at his throat.

"I could make you die." Those same hands now close around his throat, eyes closing for a moment almost as if she's debating with herself. Before long her dark eyes open once again, as her fingers tighten.

In a feeble attempt to free himself, his fists pound on her sides. His hands grab hold of her shoulders, hopelessly trying to pry her off of his body even as his vision begins to fall him and his body goes numb.

Brown eyes lock on brown eyes, both holding a handful of expressions in their dark orbs. Hers are filled with self disgust, horror, lust, and a twisted gleam of freedom. His share the same amount of horror but for obviously different reasons, and with it come shame, mindless rage, and a dark purpose born of despair.

What they both expect is that last gasp of breath, that last tightened grip on her shoulders before he blessedly falls into unconsciousness and then death.

Instead there is a new level of defiance now in his gaze, a inner fierceness that is more suited for an animal than a man now shines through. Instinctively, his hands abandon their place on her shoulders and reach up, grasping either side of her face.

And for them both, their minds seem to explode in searing white hot pain and a shared intelligence brings together for but a moment.

Horrors pass between them: A look into the cruelty of the average human. The monsters in their pasts, both demonic and everyday. Now they lock together in one all-connecting force, laying their very souls at each others' feet.

Strength flows through his arms now, liquid fire through his very veins, doing so even as her hands now release his throat and in a mindless fit curl into fists and smash down on his face and chest with all her supernatural strength.

But each time as they reach her target, they lose all momentum, brushing against his torso and face like the soft exhale of a baby's first sneeze. He can only smile morbidly as the considerable amount of power from each punch seems to flow right through him.

By the 10th punch, his whole body sings with the stolen power. Her 11th and 12th punches are blocked, each fist actually caught in his own palms and with a sickening crunch he squeezes those tiny feminine fists until bones broke, now utilizing a strength far exceeding her own.

"My turn." He says harshly, throat still tender.

Maybe this isn't such a good idea, hurting someone just because they hurt you. Maybe. But maybe it's time for him to play the bad guy.


******************

For a few seconds all he does is glare into her confused eyes. Now taking advantage of the fact that at the moment, her body is trapped above his. Her hands are injured and useless, they'll do her no good even if they weren't still entrapped by his vice-like grip.

Pain. Fear. Disgust. Hate. Lust.

Xander's still dizzy from the impact of those themes, still circling through his mind in flashes. Like a television on the fritz, only showing you the picture every other minute. The rest nothing but snow.

Grining darkly, he takes Faith's fists and pulls them outwards towards either side of the room, away from their bodies.

They move with a palpable ease. And she can't hide her shock at this, not wanting to admit that her strength is failing her.

His eyes flash with a perverse pleasure at her dismay. At this chance to show her that for once, he isn't weak.

Words are bouncing off his head, repelled by some invisible force, even though he doesn't understand where these voices are coming from.

All but one, he can recognise one. And its coming from the girl above him, she screams at him even as her mouth remains closed.

"How the shit are you doing this?" She demands, her arms held far apart with a childlike ease. Instead of answering her, he gives her another demonstration. With their arms wide, he can now lift his legs from under her, then between them, and wraps them around her waist.

Now utilizing a decent amount of agility, his legs pull her backwards onto the bedspread. Even as their momentum pulls Xander on top of her. Now she's the one trapped under him, at his mercy.

Or lack thereof.

Growling unintellegibly, Faith struggles for a few moments. Attempting to lean over enough to bite his wrists, or headbutt his smirking face only meters away, but being able to do neither, she stills. He can almst see the wheels turning in her mind.

Like his new found strength, he decides to ignore this strange turn of events until a later date.

Deciding to change her strategy, she pouts up at him with what she intends to be a lustful display of her lips. Thrusting her pelvis against his, she easily deduces his erotic pleasure in their new position. But despite what her body's telling him, her minds saying something altogether different.

Her stark terror at this turn of events, her almost animal fear at being trapped. Even more so because she's trapped like this.

The lushesness of her body beneath him is tactile, but that mental terror drums into him. And even more so, the very room around them seems to echo with her
fear. It takes a herculean act of will not to drown in it.

"All this time you been playin' the faithful doughnut-boy, while hiding some superpowers from B and the rest?" She tut-tut-tut's at him in mock-disappointment, while filing this away to exploit at a later time.

"Ah, but then the question they gonna ask is, where did you get this strength? Haven't sold anything important have ya?" She asks coolly, looking for an advantage.

"Like I don't know, your soul perhaps?"

The questions invokes a line of thought Xander isn't willing to explore at the moment. And he hides away such fear, making sure it doesn't touch his face.

"And where'd your power come from Faith?" His voice sounds harsh to his ears, but the soreness of his throat has already passed. "I think your actions, more than mine, speak of a lack of soul."

He tries not to grin in victory, knowing that from the ping her mind gave him that he'd hit a nerve. But even now shes not going to let that slow her down.

"Or maybe you just really wanted to be on top, boytoy." She grinds her pelvis against his again, pointing out his obvious reaction to her body. "Ahh baby, if you really wanted to dominate lil old me, all ya needed to do was ask."

Refusing to feel guilty for his bodys reaction, or let her get the upper hand he decided to play along.

"Ahh, if I'd known that maybe I'd have been gentler. But then again, maybe I wouldn't." He thrust forward taking her by surprize, and felt her mind's reaction war between fear, lust, and disgust.

Hate. Need. Pain. Lust. Release.

Her mind is a dark place, and he starts to believe he could get lost in the murky depths. Her fear of being dominated is at war with her need for physical contact. Pain and lust are practically linked in her mind, one simply doesn't come without the other.

And the dark place in his own mind responds to that, making his already aching member even harder beneath its prison of denim.

Fear. Lust. Hate. Need. Aching.

Faith's body is responding to him as well, not even being consciously aware of her actions she was grinding her crotch against his. The dark nubs of flesh beneath her T-shirt are erect now. Her body is ready, even though her mind is still full of fear.

And he knows, knows deep in his soul that he could simply fuck her now and she'd beg for more. He knows that she'd cry out as her orgasm shook her body when they were done, just as he knows the sky is blue and the sun will shine.

He also knows this wouldn't do either of them any good. Not at the present time at least.

Because he knows that even after they vent their sexual frustrations on one another, drifted off to sleep after they've spent their lusts, that tomorrow morning they'll wake and the same problems that existed now would remain.

Nothing would be laid to rest. And what he'd come here to do wouldn't get done. And that was to help her. Because she definitely needs help.

He also knows that she'll never ask for help, or allow someone to do so. He'll need to almost force his help down her throat.

'Well if I must, I must,' Xander's mind replied silently.

"You're so scared you can't hardly think straight, can you Faith? Gonna try and lie back and fuck away your terror, its so plan I can read it all over your face."

Those dark brown eyes of hers are now clearly shouting her emotions, unable to mask her well guarded secret any longer which is even now multiplied with the uncertainty of just what was he going to do with this knowledge.

Not willing to leave anything to chance, she lashes out again trying desperately to score a hit. Anything to return her power to her, so that she can silence him now. Cover up her traitorous feelings with another corpse.

She isn't expecting him to headbutt her as she tries the exact same tactic, though like before the force she'd used to inflict damage is stolen and in fact turned back against her as Xander's head impacts her own, stunning her for a few moments.

Those few seconds are all he needs to release her stunned frame, and launch it to the left. She falls straight off the bed with so much force that her body continues to slide across the carpet and into the left-most wall of her shitty motel room.

"Ohhh, does the big bad slayer wanna prove how tough she is?" His words sting her with humiliation, even worse than the ease in which he casually threw her away. Face stark with a terrible rage she rushes towards him in a dead run.

'Ah well, spare the rod, spoil the child. Thats what my momma always said,' Xander thinks as he stands up from the bed and waits for her, blessedly free of
worry.

The speed in which she moves is a thing to sit back in awe of, as she runs towards him like an out-of-control train. But it's all to no avail. Hitting Xander is like walking into a foam mattress.

Faith isn't brought up short, like if she'd run into a wall of concrete, no. She's just suddenly no longer moving. Her legs buckle underneath her and she falls at his feet, even as her mind rails against this contravention of the laws of momentum.

And Xander, well it's as if nothing has transpired at all. His hair is the only thing that shows any different then before he walked into her room, and that's only because it has become ruffled from lying on her bed.

Then his knee lashes up with lightning speed, and she is once again thrown backwards into the wall. A bloody nose to add on to her bruised jaw, courtesy of the headbutt he gave her on the bed.

Rage. Pain. Awe. Lust. Envy.

His mind blisters with the scolding thoughts she is sending his way, catching him off guard.

Her anger and pain are understandable after what he's just done to her, and he dissmisses them as unimportant. But the rest he can use, and he needs to keep her off balance. He might be physically stronger then her, but he knows that he can't match her in fighting ability.

Better to keep her so pissed off that she doesn't realise that.

Her anger makes her forget any advanced martial arts she might know, and turns this into a down and dirty street brawl, which Xander knows he can hold his own in. Her every punch still loses its force, the power behind the blow when it reaches him. And he feels energy flow through him with each swing.

He lets her take out her frustrations for a little while, knowing that she can't hurt him and that anything she does seems to actually make him stronger by contrast. The power burns through him like fire, the violence seemingly emflaming his loins.

Having tired of her attacks, he delivers a punch to her stomach that takes the fight right out of her. And of course winding her.

"Stay still you fuck!" She shouts, her frustation apparently still alive and well as she lauches herself at him again. But he's moved out of her way this time, instead grabbing a fistfull of T-shirt and leather pants and spinning Faith around so that she runs headfirst into the front door of her motel room.

He's had enough of the tango, since it's not doing either of them any more good then if they had fucked on her bed. And it's definitely a lot more boring. Surging forward, he presses himself against her back, trapping her between him and the wooden door.

Reaching up with his left hand, Xander captures her injured fists within his palm and twists them back so that they're pinned in the small of her back. His grip locks them their as well as any pair of handcuffs.

Shame. Fear. Pain. Need. Surrender.

It takes him a moment to notice the muffled sound of her trying desperately to contain her sobs. All will to fight seems to have left her, and with it a great deal of her confidence.

"Big bad slayer, crying like a little girl. Guess that makes me the badass, and you the chump." He enjoys the reversal.

He can't help but that last jab at her self worth, still needing to hurt her like she'd hurt him. But it's almost over now.

"You.....you can't be doing this. You're not the slayer, you're nothing. You're not the slayer." He can hear this chanting through her mind.

Doubt. Self disgust. Pain. Fear. Anger.

"If I'm nothing, then what does that make you?" Leaning forward, he tilts his head over her shoulder so he can look her in the eyes. "I asked you a question Faith, if I'm nothing then what does that make you?"

"Fuck you, you self righteous asshole. I'm...I'm gonna cut your freakin head off and mount it on my damn wall when I'm through with you. You piece of shit!" She growls, not through yet.

"And here comes the name calling again, Faith. I kicked your ass. So if I'm nothing, that makes you less than nothing. If I'm shit, that makes you less than shit."

"Horseshit! You sold your soul, or..or you stole this power. You couldn't beat me on your own! You could never beat me."

"You just can't admit it to yourself, that I'm better than you." No longer able to help himself, he reaches with his right hand between her and the door and cups one of her breasts. Further proving the power he has over her. "I'm stronger."

Even if he has no idea how he got to be stronger.

"Stolen strength! You....you're....."

"Wherever it came from, it's mine now. Like you." It's like having to beat a dead horse. Instead of continuing the argument, Xander begain to thrust his crotch against her leather clad butt. Dry humping her against the wooden door she was leaning against.

Shame. Lust. Fear. Awe. Envy.

His right hand no longer willing to simply feel her through her t-shirt, it now crawls underneath her shirt and across her belly. She's not wearing a bra, which makes it all the more fulfilling to grope her.

The steady pace in which hes been grinding his denim clad hard-on into her backside increases, leaning forward again he captures her mouth with his own before she has a chance to protest. All conscious thought has left her as she allows her body to lead the way.

Now she returns the kiss with a savage need of her own, letting her tongue battle with his and now thrusting her leather-clad ass backwards to meet his own thrusts. Moaning into his mouth from the sweet fiction his jean-covered erection is producing every time it meets the crack of her ass.

Xander's left hand remains holding her broken fists behind Faith's back, his right finally releases her breasts and slides down between them to her fly. He lacks the dexterity needed to open her pants one handed, so he leans on his new find strength again and simply rips them away, freeing her crotch, which is now covered in nothing but a flimsy black G-string.

Sex won't serve his purpose, won't help his goal, and his goal is to help her. But he needs to hammer in the last nail to her coffin, needs to end any more fight in her tonight.

His own pants are easier, undoing his fly is simple enough. His erection springs free through the fly hole in his boxers and with a fine purpose, he thrusts the length of his hard member between her butt cheeks - not entering her, but creating a enjoying sensation for them both never-the-less.

Lust. Pain. Awe. Envy. Sorrow.

The first two thoughts, feelings, aren't new tonight and are expected. Her awe and envy are expected as well; feelings which Xander had been counting on. Knowing if there is one thing she can respect it's power, stolen or otherwise.

It's the last that surprises him. Something he didn't see coming. That deep engraved notion that that's all she is, a piece of fuckmeat. Something to be beaten down, abused at the whims of others.

Becoming the slayer hasn't erased that feeling. It has only gone under the surface, like a cancer it grew and bleed on all her other feelings until it stained her mind.

He could now see that as clear as day, and taking her now against this wall, and truthfully against her will would only strengthen that belief. The dark haired young man wanted to save her, but not at the risk of Faith's self worth. As little as there might be.

But then, fucking her isn't his plan.

During his musing and her rapid onslaught of thoughts trying to blast through his mind, his right hand has been stroking his member when it wasn't wedged between Faith's ass cheeks. As he'd planned, one last dig, one last little push to force her into realising who had the power here. Who could control her, and in fact help her.

Abandoning her hands, he reaches up and begins thrusting himself forcfully between her pert and tone butt. Never entering her, but using her flesh as an instrument of his own sexual pleasure never the less until the pressure within him finally explodes.

His orgasm is brilliant and full and paints Faith's back with his seed, which begins to make its way downword in streams. He gives her one last violent kiss, before taking a step back.

Without him supporting her any longer, the slayer falls to her knees against her door. Just now her mind begins to wrap itself around what has just happened, and she turns to him to find Xander grinning down at her darkly.

"I...you..., "she stutters, her mouth dry and tears prickling her eyes. "You used me." The image of a soiled and disregarded condom flashes through her mind, and through his by proximity.

Pain. Lust. Shame. Self disgust. Surrender.

"And before the night's over I'll probably do it again, but that doesn't change the fact that you 'needed' it." He doesn't tell her she deserved it, that goes pretty much without saying. "And thats not all you need."

He steps back towards her, expecting one of two things to happen: For Faith to lash out again, to try one last feeble attempt to kill him; Or for her to back away, despite the fact that she has no where to run, he thinks she might do just that.

But instead she sits there on her stained and cheap carpet, head bowed, the sticky remains of his lust still clinging to her back and butt.

She's ready to be used forther, expecting to be subjugated. Believing because past experiences have taught her that a guy wouldn't just stop because he'd cum on her. They didn't stop there, no, that was just a warm up.

Not what he had in mind, but close enough along the lines that he could use it. "You need someone to hold your leash."

Then he tries something he doesn't know if he can actually do, something he hasn't tried before now. But if he can pick up on what she was thinking, maybe he can send what 'he' is thinking.

He creates the mental image of her, beautiful, punished, naked at the end of his leash. But 'happy'! A twisted thing, cruel even, but needing to be done.

Her body flinches, and Xander knows she saw it, felt it. Good, that's good. Being able to show her what he is thinking will make things a lot easier. What the ends to all this would be, he had no idea.

"You're mine now Faith, I 'own' you." Again he pushes that image of her on the end of a leash, face bowed towards the ground, on all fours. But free, in a way, free because the chaos of choice has been taken out of her hands.

She doesn't need to worry about anything in this flash, this little mental picture. She doesn't need to be in control, doesn't need to decide anything because 'he' will do that for her. He will take the responsibility on his shoulders.

It's what she's been looking for her whole life. What children take for granted when they're little. That knowledge that their parents will feed them, cloth them, keep them safe. That someone else is watching over them.

Faith's childhood was robbed from her. Stolen by a mother who was more interested in getting drunk or scoring another hit. And by the long line of her mother's boyfriends who'd taken an extra special attention to the little girl.

He looks around her apartment. This little shitty hotel that was the only place she could afford, the only place she could lay her head down. It makes him sick.

"But I'll keep you safe. 'I'll' watch over you." More images now, him watching her back while she patroled, him making sure she ate enough, him buying her cloths. Him taking over where so many had come before and failed.

Doubt. Worry. Need. Hope. Awe.

For once nothing sexual or painful fills her mind now. Just the doubt that anyone would actual keep their word to her. That anyone would look after her, keep her safe. And need battered and bruised hope deep in her soul that she was wrong.

Only meters from her, Xander reaches down and pulls Faith to her feet. Her bottom half still naked and soiled, her top flimsy, her face is now caked with runny mascara.

At the moment this strength, his new power in his limbs is usless. He'll have to rely on the power of his mind, and Faith's own need for him to make the decision for her.

She's stubborn, willful, but scared and filled with a wariness that has no place in a teenage girl. Being her mother's punching bag, her step-father's fuckmeat, The Council's tool, and just another dreg of society, she'd turned away from any helping hand that was offered to her, always believing that no one gave without
expecting something in return. That she was better off without them, without help, relying on her self and her wits.

"You do what 'I' say, and their wont be any more problems." Xander grasps her mind, looks around, then brings up two images to show what he means:

The stake in her hand, plundging downward into that poor man's chest.

The disregard in the eyes of one of her mom's boyfriends as he uses her preteen body to slake his lusts.

Faith trembles underneath his hands, caught between the horrors in her mind. Even if she says yes, even if she hands over her very freedom to him, he's not sure what to do with it. Taking possession of a person isn't the same thing as a pet.

And there's no way he's going to treat her like his 'daughter.'

"Your the boss."

"Get cleaned up and get dressed," he looks around the hotel room again, before coming to a decision. "And pack up your shit, we're leaving in ten minutes."

He releases her, and as instructed Faith goes about doing just that. First to the bathroom to clean herself off, then to her clothes to pack and put on a new pair of pants.

She couldn't live here anymore, hell no one should live here. And Xander isn't willing to go home when he doesn't know what kind of freak he is right now, and taking Faith home to meet his parents is simply out of the question.

But he has some money saved up, more then enough if he skims off the surface of his road trip cash. They can get an apartment, a 'good' apartment, and then he can decide what to do later.

This new submissive Faith is a strange turn, seeing her quiet and reserved is almost shocking in contrast to her normal loud and brazen attitude.

Hope. Relief. Need. Apprehension. Surrender.

Her minds reworking itself, dismissing other people in her life that she'd hoped could help her. Buffy, Giles, even Wesley, they'd been on her list of 'maybes'. Of people that she couldn't trust per se, but that she might be able to get something out of safely.

Sad he wasn't even on the list, but that doesn't matter now. All her battered hopes, her crushed dreams, they've all been pinned on his back. She'll rise or fall by his actions. It's a heady feeling, and Xander hopes he's up to the job.

But there's not really anyone else.

Turning away from his inner workings and hers, he looks outside of the mind at what Faith is doing now. He really hadn't noticed she owned so very
little, just three t-shirts, some underwear, the dress she wore when Buffy and Cordy were trying to become Miss Sunnydale High.

And two pairs of pants, he feels bad about ruining her other pair for a moment but that quickly passes. The demonstration served its perpose, and he can't honestly say he didn't enjoy the sexual thrill that followed either.

She's looking at him, or trying to do so without catching his attention. She's almost murdered him tonight, almost fucked him, almost 'been' fucked by him, and now she's handed her life away to him after a few bruises, some unkind words, and some bodily fluids.

When shes finishes she stands a few feet from him, beside the bed with her clothes safely slung over her shoulder in an old backpack. Defeat radiates off every pore of her body, her brown eyes filled with unshed tears.

"I....I didn't mean to be bad." She mutters. This isn't the normal confession you'd receive from a murderer, but the guilty admission of a scared little girl. And this is why he wants to save her. Because deep down, there 'is' something to be saved.

"But you were bad, Faith. But thats all over now, you hear me? I'll keep you in line." This would be patronizing if it wasn't for the fact that that's exactly what he plans on doing.

He can feel her thankfullness in his mind, can roll it around in his mouth like it was tactile. How broken is she, to be thankful for slavery?

"I'll be good." And that's that. She looks down in submission, knowing exactly that that's what she's doing. Xander told her that he'd make the decisions now, and she's so grateful to have that weight taken off her shoulders. To know that someone will decide for her.

That as long as she does as she's told, that she won't be bad. As long as there's someone looking over her, she wont go hungry, she won't sleep in the gutter. Her life is in his hands now, her body, her soul; it's all his now.

"It hurts, what you did, what's been done to you. Your whole world was pain, and fear, and shame. But thats all over, alright? You killed a man, but it won't happen again, 'I' won't let it. You've been abused, but that won't happen again, 'I' won't let it. Follow my lead and I'll make it all better."

Faith nods, believing every word because she can't go on like this.

"I'll follow," she says honestly, but there's still a little of the old Faith still lurking. "Never was one for whips and leather, but I'm cool to be the sub to your top."

Grinning, Xander can't help himself either. "That's good. And I promise to make the safe word easy enough for you to remember it."

She's smiling now too, just a little bit. Face washed clean of her makeup, eyes a little puffy from crying, body bruised and in a few places broken, but if he was 100% honest with himself, she never looked more beautiful to him.

He takes her by the arm, and she cradles to him for support both physical and emotional. In her heart she still suspects he's going to use her up, and throw her away when he's done. But for now she's willing to let him.

It'll take time for him to 'fix' her life, get her to be able to at least stand on her on two feet again. That'll take time. But hes not going anywhere.

Now their worries are a little less then before, just have to find an apartment for tonight. Tomorrow they'll worry about how this new 'relationship' is going to work out.

And he'll have to figure out what he's gonna tell his friends. And how he got super powers out of nowhere, and what he's going to do about Faith. Being able to read someone's mind, doesn't mean he can fix it. Things are square between them for the moment.....

So of course this is the moment Angel decides to bust the door down, ready to 'save' the weak Xander from the big bad out of control slayer.






I made the telepathy easy to follow, I hope. And as the other power, those who know their X-men history should be able to point out the mutant who 'absorbs physical force to become stronger'. All those who can guess right email me, tell me who it is and who you'd like to Xander to be next time. The most votes for any single mutant will win.

I didn't make him know he was a mutant because, it annoys he when you read about a fic where Xander becomes a mutant and the gang doesn't understand that until the radio or tv 'just happens' to come on and talks about mutants.



): )

The End

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