Growing Pains IV

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Xander let out a hard grunt as he was slammed into a concrete pillar, the impact driving the air from his lungs. A hard foot slammed into his back, driving his head into the concrete one more time. Great, bloodsuckers with strategy.

Pushing off the pillar, Xander spun and squared his stance, hazel eyes darting from vamp to vamp. They moved with surprising teamwork, not in unison nor even synchronized but clearly able to stay out of each other's way despite being a dozen strong. He could tell they were wary, some even scared, but they weren't going to break unless things looked really bad. Yeah, he thought with a wince, blood running down his forehead, definitely Blood Knights.

"Looks like you guys want me to get serious!" he yelled out, raising one fist in front of his face. His voice was hoarse, his breathing ragged, but Xander forced a grin on his face anyway. Gotta keep up appearances, right?

He felt the energy in his gut spike with his scream, the heat responding to his emotions like it always did. He drew on it, imagining it surrounding his fist and just like that, red energy began to bubble around his hand, pale and flickering like semi-translucent oil suspended in the air.

"I honestly didn't feel like doing this," Xander half-bluffed, staring out at his attackers past the crackling energy. Shit.

He wasn't the best at using his Demonic Power, he knew that well enough and Sam only confirmed that suspicion. Xander's Evil Piece was a Pawn and his brand of Devil was just meant for hitting stuff. Apparently, magic and ease of energy control was meant more for Queen Pieces and Bishop Pieces. He didn't have the control to do shit like this efficiently, at least not right now, and on top of that, it really only worked best for him when he was pissed off.

He was irritated, sure, but not pissed off yet. Curse my amazing self-control.

Funny enough, being pissed off also didn't lend itself well to control in general. Although, with the way this fight was going, he had a feeling that wouldn't last long.

A vampire rushed at him, spiked brass knuckles glinting as he roared, his fangs bared in a feral snarl. The leech covered half a dozen meters in a half second, moving with inhuman speed. Xander rushed forward to meet him, his own roar tearing from his throat.

The vampire swung, his fist a blur of motion.

Xander swung, pouring every ounce of his strength and his power into the blow.

Fists met chests with a sickening crunch.

Xander stumbled back, grunting in pain as he gained several new wounds to add to his growing list, the spikes tearing into his flesh. The vampire was thrown back into the air with a flare of red, a ragged hole in his chest where his heart used to be and a look of surprise on his monstrous face.

Before the demon could even hit the ground, his body dusted, crumbling to ash in mid-air.

The parking lot was dead silent for a few seconds, Xander and the other vampires staring in shock at the space where the vampire biker had been just moments before.

What the— Xander blinked, his mind racing to catch up with what had just happened. Okay, that was… wow. He'd never done anything like that before, never even knew he could do anything like that. I feel like that a lot.

Clenching his fist again, Xander raised it up once more, the red energy still crackling around it like a live wire. "Who wants some?" he called out, his voice stronger now, more confident. Please buy it. Please buy it. I've only got one of those left in the tank.

Three hesitated. Xander could see it, the ones he had hurt before, sent flying with his inhuman strength. Come on, come on, he thought, his eyes locked on theirs. Just run.

His smile grew as that turned to four, their resolve crumbling under his gaze.

Then five.

A second passed, and those five cowards ran for it, their forms blurring as they fled into the night.

Leaving… four.

Shit.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Darla strolled toward Angel and Buffy with her hands clasped behind her back, as if she hadn't a care in the world. She drawled, "Do you know what the saddest thing in the world is?"

Buffy shrugged. "Bad hair on top of that outfit?"

"To love someone who used to love you." She glared at Buffy.

Buffy glanced in surprise at Angel. "You guys were … involved?"

"For several generations." Darla clearly enjoyed telling Buffy all this.

Buffy tried to regroup. She remembered Darla now.

She was the one who had lured Xander's friend Jesse to the cemetery on Buffy's first night in Sunnydale. Darla had led Jesse to his death. "Well, when you've been around since Columbus, you're bound to pile up a few exes. You are older than him, right?" She leaned forward, sneering at Darla. "Just between us girls, you're looking a little worn around the eyes."

Darla bared her fangs in an evil smile. "I made him," she said triumphantly, as if she knew this would be even harder for Buffy to hear. "And there was a time when we shared everything." She focused her full attention on Angel. "Wasn't there, Angelus?"

Angel said nothing.

Darla's smile faded. "You had a chance to come home. To rule with me in the Master's court for a thousand years. But you threw that away because of her." She sneered in disbelief, "You love someone who hates us."

Buffy tried to hide her surprise. She glanced at Angel, who looked worriedly back at her.

"You're sick," Darla told Angel. "And you'll always be sick, and you'll always remember what it was like to watch her die." She spoke in a singsong tone very like the Master's.

She turned to Buffy, saying, "You don't think I came alone, do you?"

Buffy replied, "I know I didn't." With a flash of movement, she stomped on the crossbow, sending it flying up into her hands.

Darla chuckled. "Scary," she admitted. From behind her back, she brought forward two enormous revolvers—.357s, Buffy guessed; they hadn't studied firearms much—and pointed them directly at her.

"Scarier," she said, and began firing with both hands.

Buffy dove under the pool table. Angel took a bullet to the shoulder and slammed into the wall with the crossbow bolt stuck into it. With a grunt of pain, he slid to the floor.

"Angel!" Buffy cried.

"Oh, don't worry," Darla said easily. "Bullets can't kill vampires. They can hurt them like hell, but—"

She fired at Buffy again.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

In the warehouse alley, Willow and Giles froze.

"Did you just hear—"

Gunshots. They both heard them.

They ran toward the Bronze.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Buffy crouched behind the pool table, listening to Darla rant as she closed in. "So many body parts, so few bullets. Let's begin with the kneecaps. No fun dancing without them…"

Bullets hailed in Buffy's direction. Buffy summoned her courage, popped up, and got off a crossbow shot. It slammed into Darla's chest, and Darla doubled forward. For a moment, Buffy thought she was home free. She spared a glance in Angel's direction. He was pulling himself up by holding on to the crossbow bolt in the wall.

Then Darla straightened back up. She said, "Close. But no heart."

She pulled the bolt out of her chest and dropped it onto the floor.

Both Willow and Giles entered the Bronze through the broken window on the second floor and made their way to the balcony. They all looked in horror at the destruction below.

Giles whispered, "We need to distract her." He saw at the same time that Buffy did that Buffy was out of bolts. "Fast!"

Willow shouted frantically, "Buffy, it wasn't Angel who attacked your mom. It was Darla!"

Darla whirled in their direction, firing at them. They ducked.

On the main floor of the Bronze, Angel, breathing hard through the pain, pulled the crossbow bolt out of the wall.

Darla jumped and landed with both feet on the pool table. Buffy rose and yanked the table toward her, knocking Darla off balance. Darla slammed onto her back as Buffy now pushed the table with all her might. Darla's guns blazed as the table flew backward; she tracked Buffy's course as Buffy ran to the Bronze's coffee counter and threw herself over it. The glass case shattered above her.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Giles spied a light board nearby. He scrambled over and started pounding and punching the buttons. Spot lights flashed on, and then a pulsating strobe.

For a moment, the vampire named Darla was disoriented, and Giles let out a mental cheer.

But then she advanced on Buffy again, her movements nightmarishly jerky in the strobe's relentless flash. She fired at Buffy, who was huddled behind the bar. Upside-down glassware exploded like crystalline land mines as Buffy flinched away from the bullets.

"Come on, Buffy," Darla laughed like a witch. "Take it like a woman."

Darla fired again, grinning, delighted, as if victory was almost hers. And then, in the wild strobe light, Giles saw Angel behind her, a crossbow bolt in his hand. He rose without warning and plunged the arrow into Darla's back.

Giles shut off the strobe. All that remained was moonlight and silence.

Darla staggered. The guns clattered to the floor. She turned.

"Angel?" she murmured in disbelief.

She grabbed onto him for a moment, but only a moment. Angel watched as she collapsed, then exploded into a scream and dust.

His sire. His lover.

She had made him, but someone had made her into a demon first. And no one had given her back her soul. Oh, how they had raged together in the old days. It was she who had given him the Gypsy girl, never dreaming it would mean the end of them, or that it would bring them to this night when he would destroy her forever.

Buffy, the beautiful and courageous human who loved him, rose from behind the counter and looked at Angel with huge eyes. He didn't know what to say to her. He wasn't sure he could speak.

With the death of Darla, he had crossed many lines.

He had gone too far. He could never go back.

Slowly, Angel turned and walked away, a sad smile on his face.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The last four remaining vamps were coming at him from all sides now, a whirlwind of leather and fangs and chains. He dodged and weaved, his enhanced speed giving him an edge, but there were still too many of them and he was getting real tired.

Gotta thin the herd, Xander thought, his eyes darting around the parking lot, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. Come on, come on, there's gotta be something...

There! A broken piece of wood, probably a chunk of a pallet or something, lying next to a dumpster. Xander darted for it, his fingers closing around the rough edge just as a chain wrapped around his ankle, yanking him off balance. The metal links bit into his skin, the sudden superhuman jerk sending a bolt of pain shooting up his leg.

He hit the ground hard, the air whooshing out of his lungs as he landed on his back, the asphalt scraping against his already battered body. The vamp with the chain grinned down at him, all fangs and yellow eyes, as it pulled the chain taut, dragging him towards it. Stupid fucking chains, Xander thought, his teeth gritting as he felt himself being pulled across the rough ground. What is this, a biker gang or a BDSM club?

Xander gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening around the chunk of wood. Not today, fang-face.

With a snarl of his own, he jackknifed up, the wood stabbing into the vamp's chest, shattering in half as it sunk in. The vampire let out a surprised gurgle, its eyes going wide, before it exploded into dust, the chain falling slack as its body crumbled. One down, three to go, Xander thought, a grim smile tugging at his lips as he snatched up the length of chain from the ground as he leapt to his feet properly.

But he didn't even have a second to catch his breath as two more vamps were on him in an instant, their fists and chains swinging in a flurry of motion. Xander dodged and weaved, using his superior speed to avoid the worst of the blows, but he couldn't evade them all. A fist caught him in the back, another in the jaw. The second sent him reeling, his head snapping back from the force of the blow.

Focus, Harris! he scolded himself, spitting out a mouthful of blood, the coppery taste coating his tongue.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the chain in his hand lashing out, the metal links wrapping around a vampire's ankle. Xander pulled, yanking the creature off balance and sending it crashing to the ground, its skull cracking against the asphalt with a sickening thud.

As he tugged on it, a fist caught him in the ribs, the same vampire landing another in the jaw, his jaw rattling as he felt his lip split from the spiked brass knuckles. Fuck me running, Xander thought, his vision blurring for a moment as he shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Is that all you got?" he taunted, voice hoarse as he wiped blood from his lip, his tongue probing the inside of his cheek where he'd bitten it. Keep them angry, keep them stupid. Angry means mistakes, and mistakes mean openings.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the same vampire swinging at him, its fist aimed right at his head. Xander ducked, feeling the rush of air as the leech's right hook went wild, sailing harmlessly over his head. He surged forward, his glowing red knife-hand driving through the creature's unprotected chest, the bones of its ribs shattering under the force of the blow.

The vampire's eyes went wide as he twisted it, and then it exploded into a cloud of dust, the glowing ash of its undead body scattering on the night breeze. Last one in the tank, Xander thought, his breathing ragged as he felt the energy drain from his body, the red glow fading from his hand.

Xander spun around as a hiss came from behind him, a scream spilling from his mouth as a heavy bat slammed into the back of his elbow. A sharp, splintering pain shot through him, and he knew without having to check that his arm was broken.

Gritting his teeth, the teenager slammed his fist into the cackling vampire's jaw with a sound like muffled ceramic shattering, the leech's head snapping to the side from the force of the blow. The vamp staggered but didn't go down, its jaw hanging loose, the bone clearly broken. He charged forward, his good arm driving a fist into the vampire's face.

It gurgled with rage, and lunged again, its movements frenzied and wild. Xander sidestepped, grabbing the vampire's arm and using his momentum to hurl him over his shoulder, the creature's body slamming into the ground with a heavy thud. Before it could move, his foot slammed down, its neck splitting in half from the force a full second before the vampire dusted, its body crumbling to ash under his boot.

I could do this all night, Xander thought, but the strain was starting to show, his body screaming at him to stop, to rest, his injured arm hanging uselessly by his side. His movements were slower, heavier, as fatigue began to gnaw at his muscles, and even his good limbs felt like lead weights. Now where's the last one? He scanned the parking lot, searching for any sign of movement, any hint of where the final vampire might be hiding.

Xander turned just as a series of sharp pains exploded in his side, the sensation like white-hot daggers in his flesh. He let out a raw gasp, his eyes widening in shock as he looked down to see a large serrated knife buried deep in his ribs, the blade glinting in the harsh light of the parking lot lamps as blood seeped from the other open wounds it had left in his side. Oh, wow, huh… that was accurate.

"Gotcha," hissed the sneaky vampire darting out of Xander's immediate reach, a malicious grin splitting his monstrous face as he slunk back, fangs gleaming in the darkness.

With a roar, Xander launched himself at the grinning vamp, tackling it to the ground, his hand smashing into its face as they struggled. They rolled across the asphalt, Xander headbutting it until it stopped struggling. Straddling the leech from behind, he wrapped his good arm around the creature's neck and twisted, the sickening crack of breaking bone echoing loud and powerfully. With a roar, he tugged harder and with a sound like tearing leather, the head came loose, the vampire's body instantly crumbling to dust beneath him.

He had a moment to see the leech's terrified face before it too exploded all over him, a pile of dust and ash that smelled like the grave — like death and decay.

Xander stumbled back, panting, the Bowie knife still jutting from his side, the serrated blade buried deep in his flesh. Blood seeped between his fingers as he pressed his good hand against the multiple penetrating wounds, his head spinning, his vision blurring at the edges.

Not like this, he thought, his legs giving out beneath him as he fell back to the ground, the knife falling free, clattering to the asphalt beside him. Shit… Willow… Buffy… Sam…

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

In the dead of night, Xander's unconscious body began to move slowly across the ash-covered parking lot towards the front of the hospital, his leg elevated as if being dragged.