The Tides of Change

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Chapter Three
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Lacroix came to with a start, his heart ing ing twice in rapid succession. To him, used to one beat every few minutes, or so, it felt like it was racing, trying to fight its way out of his chest. He couldn't remember the last time *that* had happened. Yes, actually, he did. It was when the Spanish Inquisition had managed to get hold of both him and Nicholas, and thrown them in a waiting cell to wait for the Inquisition's version of an 'interrogation'. For a time it had seemed it would be the final end to them both.

Blinking rapidly -- as thankful as he could *ever* remember being for *anything*, that he was no longer in that place of cold nothingness -- he rose quickly to his feet. His face once again expressionless, hiding everything he felt, Lacroix turned a slow circle, surveying the landscape around him. He didn't recognize any of it.

Of course, considering what had gone on before, he was not surprised. What he didn't understand, was why she thought dropping him some unknown place would have any effect. All he haddo wdo was gain access to one of his myriad accounts, hop a plane, and he'd be back in Toronto before the following night ended. Even the depths of the Amazon -- which this so obviously was not -- would not present more than a momentary irritation. Admittedly, something like that would take longer to return from.

He shrugged, not particularly caring about the stupidity of others, other than for the inconvenience it put him through. With nothing more than a slight sigh, Lacroix picked aectiection at random, and after a quick double check to make sure no one was around, took to the air. He didn't have much time to find ace ace to retreat for the day. The sunrise, though not dangerously close, hovered in the background of his mind. He had 5 hours, he approximated, before the deadly rays of sunlight peaked the horizon.

**Plenty of time.**

He smirked as he realized where he'd been left. A graveyard. **How quaint,** he thought drolly, musing on the self-proclaimed demon's lack of imagination. He wondered, were he to share this little . . . adventure with Nicholas whether he too would find it amusing. And Lacroix *did* find it amusing, even considering the irritation factor. He hadn't met a worthy opponent in so long that he was finding this cat and mouse game quite delicious, and he was looking forward to his return fire. He did want to find out how she'd incapacitated him first, though.

*That*, however she'd managed it, had been a stroke of pure genius.

Passing three cemeteries on his flight over the residential area, he felt a wave of gratification as he realized he'd chosen the right direction on the first try. Easily spotting an abandoned alleyway, he set down alone and unseen. He did, however, puzzle over the need for *three* graveyards for what appeared to be a very small town.

Cocking his head as he extended his senses outward, he quickly located what sounded like a bar -- one of the few businesses that would be open this late. Striding out of the alley, he made a beeline for it.

**

Xander grinned crookedly at the others. They hadn't been to The Bronze in ages -- not since before The First had been negated. He had been uncertain about coming here. The place held too many memories of times past, times before people had started dying. Now, while he was ready to leave, he was glad he'd come. He could almost forget they'd lost half the potentials in that final battle. He could almost forget they'd lost Anya that day too. Buffy and Dawn were trading stupid knock knock jokes. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had been relaxed enough to do something *that* silly. He was definitely ready to go, however.

Willow and Kennedy had stolen off to the dance floor, and he, well, he was watching them move. Kennedy had been good for Willow; he knew. The younger girl had been instrumental in helping her move on, to get past Tara's death.

"What about you Xander?" Dawn asked.

"Huh?" he replied, wrenching himself from his wandering thoughts. He must have missed something.

Buffy laughed, and Dawn giggled.

"We're going out to find someone to dance with. What about you?"

Xander shook his head. "Nah, you two go ahead. I'll just enjoy the view."

The sisters rolled their eyes and laughed -- just as he'd intended them to -- as they rose and practically bounced away.

No, Xander was not interested in dancing. He'd learned his lesson the last time he'd tried to get close to someone. He'd come to the conclusion soon after -- all lame and embarrassing jokes aside -- that he simply wasn't meant to be with anyone. Why else would he keep attracting demons? Or why would he do something stupid to mess up the only two relationships he'd managed to have with women who weren't demons? Well, okay, he'd heard through the grapevine that Cordelia was one now, but she hadn't been one while they'd dated -- at least not literally.

And okay, yeah, Anya had been an ex-demon, but in his book that was different. She hadn't been trying to kill him -- until he'd left her at the alter that is. He was pretty sure that when she'd been trying to get people to wish vengeance on him, after she'd found out she couldn't take it for herself, that she'd have happily seen him dead.

He sighed. Both Buffy and Dawn had found dance partners. He took the opportunity to sneak out. He knew he didn't have to, but he knew he'd give in if they cajoled him into staying, and he was wasn't in the mood anymore.

Letting the door close behind him, Xander inhaled deeply, enjoying the feel of the crisp night air. Being indoors just didn't really suit him anymore. He'd spent so much of his life outdoors that being inside sometimes felt confining. Oh, it felt 'safe' too. There was a reason for the phrase, 'safe as houses'. But sometimes, at times like tonight for example, it also felt nearly claustrophobic.

In high school, he'd consistently snuck out at night to help Buffy and the gang patrol. And after high school, though he hadn't had to sneak around anymore, most nights found him spending at least part of the night wandering the town, sometimes with the Scoobies, sometimes alone. And then he'd found that ego saving construction job. Half the time on that job he spent outdoors as well -- or near enough as made no difference. Less so now that he was a foreman, but still.

Of course, things had slowed *way* down when 95% of the town had taken off, but things were picking back up now that people were starting to trickle back. So much damage had been done in those last days that construction crews were working as much overtime as they could handle.

He'd taken only a few steps away from the entrance to The Bronze when sounds from the alley had him doing an abrupt right turn and sneaking around the corner of the building. It was probably only kids making out, but it paid never to make assumptions in this town.

At first glance, it looked as though he'd been right -- two kids macking on each other in the pseudo-privacy of the dark alley. He'd almost turned away when he realized something wasn't quite right. A flash of white that eerily reminded him of Spike -- though the man's back was *far* too broad to belong to that particular vampire. He froze for only a moment before automatically reaching for the stake he'd learned long ago to keep on him at all times. That was no couple. That was a vampire, and his 'date' was fast on her way to dying.

Sparing no thought to the consequences, Xander charged forward, raising his stake as he neared. Just as he began his downswing, he suddenly found himself staring into gold eyes -- **Gold?!** -- and d a d a steel grip around his wrist.

**Oh shit!** This wasn't some newly risen fledgling, nor was it a minion. He was pretty sure of that instantly. This was someone likeke -ke -- or Angelus -- someone who had been around awhile. He fought to stay upright as his knees decided they didn't like the abuse he put them through, and were seriously considering going out on strike.

"Surely, you didn't intend this for me?" the white-haired vamp asked.

Xander shivered.

**Damn! That voice should be registered as a lethal weapon!**

He shook himself, angry now that he'd let something as mundane as a *voice* get to him. "Well, *duh*!" he replied acidly. He jerked backward, trying to escape the vampire's grip. Xander winced as the hold the vampire had around his wrist tightened, and he felt the bones beneath those cold fingers grind together. He didn't let that stop him, however; he kicked out, trying to aim for the vampire's knees. Knees werwaysways vulnerable -- and he sure as hell wasn't in position to try for the one other place that was sure to be even more so.

The vampire easily side-stepped his vicious kick, jerking him forward and then knocking him against the wall before bringing them both back to their original position.

**Well, *that* certainly did a lot of good,** he thought sourly. **Not!**

"You would do well to mind your manners, boy. You're not exactly in the best of positions at the moment."

Xander didn't reply -- for a change -- he merely glared. The glared turned into a frown as he suddenly clicked to something else that was odd. "Hey! Where are your bumps?"

"My *what*?" the vampire asked incredulously, a hint of laughter in his tone.

"You know," Xander explained, waving his free hand vaguely toward his own face, "the bumps on your forehead."

The vampire smirked then, which only irritated the hell out of Xander.

**What? Does that damn smirk come with the package deal?** he thought angrily.

"I have never, to my knowledge, *ever* had 'bumps' on my forehead."

"Oh," Xander replied weakly. **What the hell?** The sudden thought that maybe he had run across yet another kind of vampire, turned his stomach acidic, and further reduced his knees to the consistency of jello. He swallowed convulsively.

A questioningly look on the vampire's face, he glanced back over his shoulder toward the woman he'd let drop to the ground. "She a friend of yours?" he asked.

Xander frowned, actually taking the time to look around the vampire toward the woman. "Uh, no," he admitted, "never seen her before."

The vampire snorted lightly, his amazement clear. "You charged me with this . . . sliver of wood, trying to save a woman you've never even *met*?"

Xander shrugged, awkwardly, since the vampire still held his arm in the air. "Seemed like a good idea at the time," he quipped, even as he urged his stomach to quit jumping around.

"You're either very brave, young man, or you're incredibly foolish."

er ser snorted depreciatingly. "A little of both, I'm afraid," he retorted.

The vampire laughed then. "You've got potential, boy. What's your name?"

"P.p.potential?" Xander squeaked. He *really* didn't like the sound of that.

The grip tightened ominously and Xander cringed against a stab of pain.

"I asked you for your name, boy."

Swallowing hastily, Xander tried to wet a mouth suddenly gone very, very dry. "Xander," he replied in a hoarse whisper. "Xander Harris."

"Xander? Odd name."

"Well, it's short for Alexander, Alexander LaVelle Harris," Xander explained nervously, "but I've been called Xander by everyone since I was little. It's more my name now than Alex--"

A hand placed firmly over his mouth cut off his flow of nervous babble.

"Do you always talk this much?"

Xander nodded. "Whn M Nrvs," he mumbled beneath the hand.

The hand was removed.

"What?"

"When I'm nervous," he admitted.

"And your 'nervous' now?" the vampire asked, the smirk returning.

Xander rolled his eyes, but obediently nodded, deciding that maybe, just maybe, if he kept his cool, he might delay the inevitable long enough and Buffy might come out.

"You're not scared?"

Xander clenched his jaw on the resounding 'Duh!' that so desperately wanted to emerge.

"I thought as much," the vampire whispered, leaning close. "Your terror wafts off you in delicious, enticing waves."

**Oh, God!**

"Your blood will be bathed in it, making it sweet beyond comparison," the vampire continued, his voice low.

Xander nearly fainted. Only long practice at being so scared he could barely see straight, kept him conscious. He opened his mouth twice, trying to maome ome kind of reply, some kind of denial -- hadn't Spike said he wasn't biteable? He clung to that now -- though his mind told him it was a useless gesture.

"Gah!" he croaked as he was suddenly jerked around and he found himself pressed back against the vampire's chest, his trapped hand now pressed firmly across his own chest. He stiffened, immediately beginning to struggle. Despite his desires to the contrary, it really didn't look like he was going to get a last minute reprieve. And to hell with the thought of going quietly. If this was the end -- **Oh, please let it not be!** he prayed fervently -- he was fighting to the bitter end.

His struggle did nothing but send pain shooting down through his wrist and arm. He'd have bruises tomorrow, he knew.

//Tomorrow?// a tiny voice inside him asked sarcastically. //What makes you think there's gonna *be* a tomorrow?//

He tried to ignore it.

"Shh," the vampire's voiced whispered soothingly, his mouth so close to Xander's ear that he felt the cool, moist air brush across. "We can do this one of two ways," the vampire continued, his voice almost seductive, Xander thought with a touch of hysteria. "I can make you hurt, make you wish you were already dead," he said. " *Or*, I can let you enjoy it."

"Fuck you!" Xander exclaimed, anger, as well as a new fear tearing through him.

"So be it," the vampire replied, jerking Xander's head to the side, baring the side of his neck.

Xander tried again to break free, only this time, he was held so firmly in place, it made no difference at all.

Lips brushing against the side of his throat made him freeze, his eyes rolling back in his head.

**Did he just *kiss* my neck?** Xander thought as his terror rose to previously unreached levels. He whimpered. He didn't want to, but couldn't stop the sound from escaping. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been so scared -- not even the very first time he'd seen a vampire. Not even the time Angel had pretended to be Angelus and offered him to Spike as a late night snack, had he felt this absolutely, want to hide in a corner, frightened. This truly felt like the end.

He groaned as he felt twin punctures sink into his throat. **No!** he thought wildly. **This *can't* be happening! I survived a hell god. I survived *The First*. I can't die at the hands of common vamp!** His thoughts were interrupted as he suddenly found himself inundated by strange, unbelievable images. Scenes that looked like a toga party gone wild, complete with Charriots, flashed through his mind.

He saw a pretty blonde girl, barely into her teens from the look of her, smile at him. He had no clue who she was.

He saw people dressed like they had at the one renaissance fair Willow had talked him into going to -- only these people were surrounded by horses and elegant carriages.

He saw a dark haired woman, eyes golden, fangs gleaming in the candlelight, glide across the room toward him. In the vision, he stepped forward, eagerly embracing her, lowering his head as she bared her throat to him. He hardened instantly, the image erotic beyond imagining.

As suddenly as the images began, they stopped.

A faraway voice whispered in his ear. "Do you want to die?" it asked.

"God no!" he whispered fiercely. With every fiber of his being he wanted to live. **Isgoingoing to let me live?!** Xander wondered incredulously, a tiny spark of hope igniting inside him.

"Good," the voice replied suavely, filled with a satisfaction Xander didn't understand.

As he felt the fangs sink back into his neck, however; he began to. **No!** he screamed silently. **I don't *want* to be a vampire.** He truly prayed then. **Please don't do this,** he pleaded. **Please don't make Buffy have to stake me. Or, God forbid, Willow.**

He stumbled forward as he was suddenly released. It took him a moment to figure out he was actually free -- *and* still alive. The moment he did, he could have wept for joy. It didn't take him long to figure out why he'd been let go. Several loud voices rang out from the darkness. Unfortunately, he didn't recognize any of them, and didn't dare call out, not knowing who they were. He spun around, what little sense he still had at the moment telling him that he didn't want the vampire at his back.

He could see traces of blood at the corners of the vampire's mouth. **My blood!** he thought. He began backing away slowly. Maybe if he didn't make any sudden moves he would make it.

The vampire's hand darted out, grabbing hold of his arm, and he found himself once more jerked forward until he was mere inches away. The world around him swayed dangerously, and a small part of Xander's mind wondered just how much blood he'd lost.

He gasped as the vampire's eyes locked with his, and he felt his erratic heart beat slow. He felt all his fear, all his confusion fade away.

"Forget," he echoed, his voice a dull monotone. "Nothing strange happened. Want to go home. Yes, cover the marks."

Suddenly Xander stumbled and he grabbed the brick wall beside him for support. He shook his head, and instantly regretted it. His head muddled, the alley spinning wildly around him, Xander struggled to ride out the dizziness.

He blinked, and slowly scanned the alley he didn't remember coming into. He frowned as he turned to leave, wondering what the hell they'd put in his drinks. He sure as hell hadn't been *that* drunk. His frown deepened. As a matter of fact, he couldn't remember having more than one beer.

Letting out an explosive breath, Xander carefully walked out of the alley, and with one last disturbed glance back, he slowly made his way home.