The Scarlet Letter

/Oz wants me to tell them I've changed. Not human. Buddy, you're not looking too human at the moment, either.../

Xander could sense the wolf lurking beneath Oz's skin, the part of him that operated purely on an animal level, and right now, the wolf below the surface stared at him like it was stalking a wounded deer. Slowed breaths, hackles raised, eyes dark and shining. Oz's muscles coiled, ready for a chase.

Hunt. Kill. Eat. Instincts the werewolf could usually bury while wearing his human guise had been awakened. Xander saw how the intense craving disturbed Oz, and the silent apology that hung from his lips as he struggled to control his inner beast.

/Food. Bottom of the food chain. Prey. That's what Angel made me. I'm doing this to Oz, I'm making him wolfy!/

Xander's survival instinct kicked in. He backed away from Oz, cradling his injured wrist close to his chest as he pressed the scarf tightly against his neck with his other hand, desperately hoping it would dampen the scent of blood.

/Don't run. Don't excite him./

Clutching Willow's hand like a lifeline, Oz's eyes never left Xander as he cautiously increased the distance between them. His jaw twitched, wrinkling the corners of his mouth, and Oz fought the bloodlust like a drunk trying to avoid throwing up in a room full of people. So far, no one else seemed to notice his agitated state as they concerned themselves with Xander's recent ordeal.

"You're hurt! What happened? Is it broken?" asked Cordelia, referring to Xander's wrist. "Did he break you?"

"You could say that," Xander mumbled as he nudged past her. First Angel, now Oz? Xander hated feeling so vulnerable, unnerved by everyone's sudden interest in ripping his throat out. He backed up as far as he could, until he bumped up against the lockers lining the corridor. "Hey, Oz...maybe you should, uh, go check on your van?" he gulped.

The room erupted into a cacophony of voices as rounds of questions fired off in rapid succession. The hail of inquiries only heightened Xander's anxiety, making him feel like a target in a shooting gallery.

"Xander, what is with you being so avoidy today?" demanded Buffy. "Do you know something about Angel that I don't?"

"Things are out in the open. P-perhaps we should discuss your, er, situation now, yes?" asked Giles.

"Hey, wasn't your bite mark on the other side of your neck this afternoon? How did it move?" Willow cringed and bumped Oz's shoulder with her own when he squeezed her hand hard enough to hurt. "Ow, fingers! Jeez, what's got you so wound up, anyway?"

"Don't feel so hot." Oz pulled away from Willow and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his eyes locked on the wound on Xander's neck. He shook his head and tore his gaze away, his breath coming in quick little huffs as he struggled to keep his attention averted. "Need to get some fresh air."

"Sweetie, is everything okay?" asked Willow. Oz nodded, an embarrassed frown on his face, like he'd been caught with his paw in the cookie jar.

"Man, I'm sorry," Xander apologized. "I mean, about the broken glass and, uh, everything." Xander regretted more than just smashing the window. Oz almost lost control of his beast, and it was his fault. The blood drying on his neck itched, taunting him with its potency, the scent still strong even to Xander's human senses.

"S'okay. I think I can deal," Oz replied through his clenched teeth, and he seemed both reluctant and eager to get away from the scent.

/If my blood gives Oz a severe case of the munchies, what happens when the really scary Sunnydale residents get a whiff?/

Buffy watched while Oz kept a wide berth between himself and Xander as he left the building, puzzled by their strange tension. "There is major weirdness in the air, Xander. Now is not the time to practice being the strong, silent type. So share. Why is Oz wigging out when you're nearby, what have you and Giles been hiding...and why the hell did Angel call you a potato?"

"Potato?" Cordelia asked, deeply confused as she swung her gaze between Buffy and Xander. "Why are we standing around talking about food, when we should be taking him to the emergency room?"

"Angel called him a pomme de sang. That's French for potato...right?" She looked at Willow for validation. "Not right?" When she shook her head, Buffy muttered under her breath. "I am so going to flunk that test tomorrow."

"Pomme de terre is potato," explained Willow. "Pomme de sang is...uh, apple of ...blood? Blood-apple?" Her eyebrows crinkled when she saw everyone's appalled expressions upon hearing the definition. "Oh, boy. Something tells me that's not good thing. Maybe we should forget about the disturbing blood reference and stick with Buffy's translation."

"You...you heard what he said?" Echoes of Angelus and Drusilla's mocking voices reverberated in Xander's mind, drawing him back to last night's traumatic events. He couldn't shake the horrible memories, the atrocities he'd endured when the iresires had ravaged him.

/"You're the apple, Alexander. Will you taste as sweet, I wonder?"/

"Good lord." Giles' face whitened and he straightened to a rigid posture, letting the crossbow dangle at his side. He had the concerned look on his face he always had right before he had to announce a distressing prophecy or revelation to the gang. "Xander, is it true? Did Angelus call you a pomme de sang?"

/"Have Rupert look it up for you. It means that from now on, you and I are going to be really close friends."/

Embarrassed and exposed, Xander tried to fade into the row of lockers behind him. He felt like a sideshow attraction, a freak on display for everyone to scrutinize and judge.

/When they find out what I am, they won't want me around anymore. They'll think I'm hideous. Dirty, foul, and disgusting. Stupid Xander. He let himself get caught. He let Angel fuck him./

He'd never felt so ugly. He wanted to run away, cleanse himself of the disgusting blood caking on his flesh and clothing, rid himself of the hateful reminder of Angel's assault. But all eyes bored into Xander, digging into him with little hooks that ensnared him and kept him from escaping.

Seeing Xander's discomfort, Cordelia tried to reach out to him, but he shrank away from her. "Please, don't!" begged Xander. "You don't want to get near me."

"What happened to you? What are you so afraid of? If something is wrong, you need to let us help you," she said.

"Help me?" Xander muttered softly, speaking more to himself than to anyone else in the room. "I screamed, and screamed, and screamed for help while they hurt me, but no one came. They just laughed at me, and did what they wanted. Angel and Drusilla...I couldn't stop them."

He hugged himself, tottering back and forth on his feet, looking every bit like a frightened, cornered animal, and refused to let Cordelia near him. "They changed me. I'm not me anymore. Not human."

Cordelia froze. "What do you mean, you're not human?"

Xander laughed, a sharp, humorless laugh that fell from his lips and shattered on the ground. "I'm food for them, see? And just like potato chips, they can't stop after just one bite. I'm so yummy, even Oz wants a taste. I'm a Scooby Snack. A Hellmouth happy hour appetizer. An all-you-can-eat buffet..."

"That's enough," interrupted Giles gently as he stood before Xander, trying to soothe him with his voice. "Come. Let's go to the nurse's station and get something to take care of your arm. Willow, Cordelia, I think it would be best if you made sure Oz goes home for the evening. Keep a close eye on him."

The girls protested, but Giles was adamant. "Damn it, if you want to help, do as I say. Fetch the tranquilizer gun from the armory as a precaution." Willow obeyed, and hurried to the library to carry out his instructions.

"You know something. Giles, I'm not budging until you tell us what the hell is going on!" demanded Cordelia. "What did Angel do to him? I thought he could only make vampires! Is he...?"

"I assure you, he's not a vampire." Giles shepherded Xander towards the infirmary, and the girls followed.

"Angel made him a pomme de whatsit? I've never heard of that. What is it?" Buffy asked. She broke the lock on the medicine cabinet, and pulled out some gauze and a splint. Xander sat on the paper-lined bench while Giles administered first aid to his injured wrist.

"Go ahead, doc. Tell them the bad news," Xander said quietly, not looking at anyone. As Giles taped his wrist, Xander felt an unnatural, prickly sensation, and he realized he could feel the bones knitting together, healing on their own.

"Every Watcher has heard the legend of the pomme de sang. I feel like a rank amateur for not making the connection sooner." Giles unwrapped a sterile swab to use to clean the gash on Xander's neck. Xander tried to push him away, scared his blood would infect Giles somehow, but he persisted and seemed to understand the reason for Xander's resistance.

"It's all right," Giles said as he dabbed at the dried blood around the wound. "It won't hurt me."

As Cordelia handed Giles a bandage, she gasped. "Willow was right! The bite from last night was on the other side, but now it's completely healed! How did that happen?"

"Rapid regeneration is the trademark of a pomme de sang. Xander survived the attack last night because his body was able to heal itself beyond normal human capability. I'll wager that within a few hours, his current injuries will also be fully healed. That's what Xander and I discussed this afternoon. I suspected that his swift recovery wasn't natural. Now we know why."

"I don't get it." Buffy paced back in forth in the small room. "Angel wants to destroy us. Why would he give Xander an ability that prevents him from getting killed?"

Giles finished bandaging Xander's neck and sat down on a stool in the corner of the room. "Angelus' motive wasn't altruistic, of that I'm certain. Pommes de sang are sla...ahem, servants...who are magically granted extraordinary regenerative powers to be able to survive the strain of extensive blood loss and repeated feedings. Xander, do you recall a ritual of some sort?"

"Yes." Xander shuddered and shut his eyes, unable to forget the excruciating pain he'd felt when Angelus had claimed him. First with the tattoo...and then with the rape. "I wish I was still Amnesia Guy. But when I saw him...when he touched me again, it all came rushing back."

/The gold stylus...my chest on fire...no more...no more...no, please God, don't!/

His eyes flew open again, and Xander struggled to keep his composure. "I'd rather not talk about it right now."

"That's fine. No doubt this experience has been very trying for you," said Giles. "We can discuss the details later, when you're more comfortable and have had time to sort things out. Suffice it to say that when Angelus performed the ritual, he bound your essence to his own and transformed you into his pomme de sang, or blood-apple. Your recuperative powers are drawn from his vampiric strength, rendering you as immortal as he is. Although we don't know for certain who developed blacblack magic used for creating blood-apples, their origin dates back several hundred years.

Throughout history, there are accounts of powerful vampires who remained rulers or wealthy nobles even after their deaths. Vlad Tepes and Lady Elisabeth Bathory are notable examples. They were just two of many upper class vampires who preferred to retain their land, wealth and power rather than spend their nights as nomadic hunters.

These privileged vampires soon learned that unexplained disappearances in their tightly knit communities raised too much suspicion, and that they couldn't risk preying on the local populace without exposing their secret. To insure a discreet, convenient, and never-ending supply of blood, they kept pommes de sang.

By feeding primarily from their servants, wealthy vampires could mask their true nature and escape persecution. Vampires are said to prefer the blood of pommes de sang to that of normal human beings, and their blood became a rare and highly sought after delicacy."

"When they changed me, they didn't just make me heal quickly, they suped up my blood," admitted Xander. "It's more powerful, higher octane or something, which I guess makes vamps dig it so much. Even Oz could smell it; he's the one who made me realize something was really wrong.

Angel told me my blood belonged to him, and when he got near me, there was an intense reaction. Burning and itching. I felt compelled to obey him, and when I tried to resist, the pain got even worse. It was like fire in my veins, like my heart was pumping gasoline and he lit a match. Red light shot out of my chest, and I knew if I didn't let him bite me, I'd go nuclear. And it's all coming from this damn thing!" With trembling fingers, he unbuttoned his shirt and angrily revealed the tattoo.

Cordelia let out a short, horrified cry, covering her mouth with shaking hands as she stared at the crude A seared above Xander's heart.

Xander felt sickened as his heart thudded in his chest, pumping the tainted blood through his body. But it wasn't Xander's body anymore, not really. He'd become a vessel for Angelus, complete with a brand to mark him as personal property.

/He can bite me, torture me, bleed me dry, and I'll never die. That's why he did this, so he can draw out the humiliation, use me over and over. His new chew toy./

Cordelia turned to Buffy, her face contorted with rage. "Look at what your stalker boyfriend did to him! Look at him!" Xander cringed as he listened to her words.

/Freak. She thinks that I'm a disgusting freak. She'll never want to touch me again./

Giles sensed a confrontation brewing, and rose from his stool. "Cordelia, please calm down. "

She ignored him, focusing her anger on Buffy. "You promised me that you'd kill him. So are you going to wait until after that twisted psycho goes through the whole alphabet? Who's next on the menu? Me? Willow?"

"Can we stop the histrionics and discuss this rationally? There's something all of you need to understand," asked Giles, but his plea fell on deaf ears.

"Whoa." Buffy put her hand up, trying to ward her off Cordelia's venomous assault. "Put the breaks on before you say something we'll both really regret. I'm gonna give you a pass this time because it's been a traumatic day for all of us, and our emotions are stretched to the limit. But don't go there again, understand?"

"When are you finally going to get a clue, Buffy? Angel is gone! He's Angelus now, and you're never going to get your lover back. So kill him already and let everyone get on with our lives, while we still have them." She crossed her arms and leveled her eyes at Buffy in her most imperious, Queen Cordelia way. "Unlike yo pre prefer my boyfriends still breathing."

Buffy slapped her, knocking Cordelia back a few feet. She stood quaking in the middle of the room, her fists clenched, her eyes bright with tears again. "I'm doing the best I can. I...I know I have to kill him. Don't you think I know that? Don't you realize how painful it is for me to see him go after all my friends?"

Cordelia rubbed her reddened cheek, unmoved and unconvinced. "Nothing you feel could possibly be as painful as what he did to Ms. Calendar and Xander. And if it will keep me from being the next target, you can officially cross me off of your growing-shorter-by-the-day list of friends."

"Cordy, stop it!" pleaded Xander as he placed himself between the feuding girls, holding his hands out like a referee. "Buffy is..."

"Oh, it's always all about Buffy, Buffy, Buffy with you," complained Cordelia as she wiped at the tears running down her cheek with the cuff of her sweater. "Go ahead, take her side. You're so busy idolizing your precious superhero that you forget that I'm the one who gives a damn about you, not her!"

"What? Of course I give a damn! Xander's one of my best friends! I love him, and I'd do anything for him!"

"Love? You mean you love having him wrapped around your finger," snapped Cordelia with a disgusted snort, ignoring Xander's attempts to shush her. "You know how much Xander worships you, and you take advantage of that. You keep him tucked an arm's length away like a spare boyfriend marked "use only in case of emergency." God, you're so selfish!"

Red-faced with embarrassment, Xander tried again to break up the argument. "You know what? This is a conversation I really don't need to hear right now. Or ever. Please, can you two just drop it?"

"Selfish? You want to talk selfish, you jealous, self-centered little bitch?" shouted Buffy. "Your boyfriend could have been killed last night, and all you can worry about is whether he likes me more than he likes you?"

"This isn't about jealousy. This is about how you're still choosing Angel over Xander and all of your friends. I've seen you slay vampires and demons way tougher than Angel without breaking a sweat. If rea really wanted him dead, he'd already be dust in the wind. Maybe you can't admit that to yourself, but from where I'm standing, it's obvious. So don't talk to me about how much you love Xander and how you'd do anything for him. If you really, really cared, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. You'd be off doing your little Slayer thing, and you wouldn't stop until Angel paid for what he did to him."

Silent most of the fight, Giles finally spoke up. "Killing Angelus isn't that simple, I'm afraid."

"Is that...is that what you think too?" Buffy searched Xander for his reaction, and he blinked and couldn't look her in the eyes. "Do you think I'm holding back on purpose?"

"I...I don't know. Maybe. Subconsciously. But if you'd seen the Angel I've seen, if you'd seen how cruel and evil he is, you wouldn't hesitate. He's a monster. He's going to keep torturing me, and with this damn tattoo controlling me, I can't do anything about it." Ashamed of his own weakness, Xander's voice trembled as he pleaded with her to help him. "I need you to stop him, Buffy. Please, don't let him touch me again."

/Please, Buffy, please don't let me down when I need you the most!/

Buffy pulled a reluctant Xander into a hug, and sobbed quietly against his stiff shoulder while a tearful, jealous Cordelia looked on. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you last night. I'm sorry I didn't protect you. I didn't know. I didn't know anything was wrong until I found you. I swear to God, he won't ever hurt you again."

"You can't kill him," interjected Giles. "You must stay away from Angelus!"

"No, I can do it, and I will!" She rubbed her eyes and stepped away from Xander, her face set with determination. "Tonight. No hesitating. Break the the fancy weapons, Giles. Angel will never get near any of my friends again."

"Listen to me! I haven't been able to get a word in edgewise with all this childish bickering. What I've been trying to explain is now that Xander has become his pomme de sang, you can't kill Angelus."

"What? Why not?" asked Cordelia. "If we don't, he's going to keep terrorizing Xander and the rest of us! When is this all finally going to stop?"

"I don't know." Giles sighed, and rubbed his temple as he hung his head sadly. "I believe I understand Angelus' ulterior motive for Xander's transformation. You see, pommes de sang are permanently bonded to their masters, their life forces inextricably linked."

He paused, taking in their confused looks, his face grim as he went on to explain.

"It means if Buffy kills Angelus...Xander will die, too."

===== CONTINUED IN PART 7 =====