The Scarlet Letter

"It means if Buffy kills Angelus...Xander will die, too," explained Giles. Equal parts of regret and frustration registered in his eyes, and Giles shifted uncomfortably as Xander gaped at him, horrified by his announcement.

"No," Xander whispered as he shook his head, unwilling to accept the news. Angel's smug, smiling face hounded his thoughts, his mocking laughter fueling Xander's hatred for the vampire who had wrested complete control over his life...and death.

"Oh, God. Oh, God...this is can't be happening!" Cordelia wept quietly in the corner, her mouth shielded behind perfectly manicured but unsteady hands. "He's going to kill everyone now!"

"I'm sorry, Xander." Giles' sour tone and nervous frown reflected his disgust for the deadly quandary Angelus had created. He gathered the excess bandages and antiseptic swabs, and dumped them in a drawer, shoving it closed harder than was necessary. "I believe he intends to use you as his human shield, to insure Buffy won't be able to destroy him," he sighed.

"No!" Xander shouted as he grabbed Giles by the lapels of his jacket and shook him. "It isn't fair! He deserves to die for what he did to me! He can't get away with this!" Xander hissed when he jarred his injured wrist, and pushed himself away from Giles, ashamed that he had vented his hatred for Angel upon his friend.

Unable to contain his fury, Xander lashed out and kicked the small metal garbage can next to the door before storming out of the nurse's station. He ignored his friends when they called out his name.

/Don't cry don't cry don't let them see you cry/

Xander rushed into the boy's lavatory down the hall, and vomited into the sink. He clutched the cold porcelain rim to keep himself from falling down as his stomach violently relieved itself of all its contents. After the painful spasms subsided, Xander decided he was grateful he hadn't eaten much that day.

Wiping his lips with a trembling hand...

/blood I can still taste the blood I can still taste HIM/

...Xander turned on the faucet to rinse the bowl clean. He looked at himself in the mirror, and hated what he saw: unnaturally pale skin, dark-circled eyes, red-smeared lips and chin, and clothes stained with blood. He could feel the angry pinpricks seething under the bandage on his neck, and his cheeks were damp with unwanted tears that had crept out while he'd been busy throwing up.

/"Covered in blood is a good look for you, Xander. Get used to it."/

With a frustrated cry, Xander pulled his fist back to smash the mirror, to destroy the image confronting him, but just as suddenly stopped himself. Breaking the glass would only spill more of his blood, and he knew how dangerous it had become. His blood made him a target, enticing prey for the types of creatures that roamed the Hellmouth.

The feeding, the helplessness he'd felt as his life was stolen from him, it could happen again. Scratch that, it would happen again. Angelus would come to claim his property, and there was nothing Xander could do to prevent that. He was bound to the vampire for the rest of his unnatural life.

/"You and I are going to be really close friends."/

Xander screamed as he tore the bloodied shirt off his body and crammed it into the garbage, then shoved the can across the room until it slammed into the stalls and tipped over. He grabbed handfuls of brown paper towels from the dispenser and hurriedly sopped them to scrub away the last remnants of dried blood. He sobbed as he rubbed himself raw, drenching himself and the floor as he struggled to get clean. Irritated by the rough paper, his skin took on the pinkish-red tinge of uncooked hamburger.

But the scarlet letter stayed right where it was, a permanent reminder that he'd never feel normal again.

Wet and shivering from the cold, Xander dipped his hand under the faucet and scooped up more water to rinse the bitter taste and tears away.

The door slowly creaked open. "Knock, knock. Uh, can we come in?"

Xander thought it was amusing that Buffy, used to entering creepy graveyards and monster lairs without a hint of trepidation, seemed nervous about entering the boy's bathroom. Not that amusing, but after all the mortifying mindfucks he'd endured that night, Xander needed a little funny wherever he could find it.

"Like I could stop you," replied Xander, not caring how defeated he sounded. He shuffled over to the window and sat down on the long, wide ledge. He couldn't see anything outside but blackness, but that didn't mean anything. Somewhere out there, Angelus was waiting for him.

Buffy and Cordelia gave the room a curious once over, like they had wandered into a filthy, urinal-filled alien wasteland. Paper towels littered the floor.

Xander shivered on the ledge and wrapped his arms around himself. He didn't want to look at them, didn't want to see the disgust in their eyes...especially Cordy's. Buffy whispered to Cordelia to fetch something for Xander to wear. She stared at him for a moment, her face blank, then left the bathroom without a word of contradiction.

Buffy sat down on the ledge and silently offered him a Tic Tac. Xander chuckled sadly, wiped his hand on his pants and helped himself to a breath mint. "Thanks."

"This is awful." Buffy grimaced when she noticed an unrecognizable substance smeared on the wall behind her, and scooted closer to Xander on the ledge. "Not the bathroom, although - eww, talk about smells I never knew existed! situsituation with Angel? You're right, it's not fair." She tried to get him to look at her.

Xander stared out the window, straining to see past his reflection in the glass, as he fiddled with the damp bandages on his wrist. The knitting bones itched, just like the A on his chest had itched, a constant reminder of what he'd become.

/A is for apple. Dead Boy's apple. Blood so red and delicious, everybody wants a taste!/

"It's scary, finding out that you're...um, not like other people," Buffy said softly. "Are you going to be okay?"

Embarrassed, he concentrated on the darkness outside. "I am hundreds of miles away from okay. I think I'm gonna need a map, a compass, and an Indian guide to find my way back to okay."

"I know how it feels, Xander, getting burned by Angel. He's very good at hurting people. But you have to get past it."

Xander let out a laugh that melted into a sob, as he experienced a flash of phantom pain in his chest, the searing touch of the needle. Yes, Xander knew all too well about Angelus' talent for cruelty. He fought the wave of tears that threatened to roll forth, and when he finally spoke, he had to force out the words, like it hurt to pronounce every syllable.

"I gotta hand it to him, Buff, he's a clever son of a bitch. Angel knew exactly how to get to me. I've never felt so freaking helpless in my whole life. I don't know how to deal with all of this. I'm not like you, I'm not strong..."

"Yes, you are," argued Buffy, turning to confront him. "You're a rock." Xander shook his head in denial, but Buffy persisted. She cupped his chin, and turned him to face her.

"Listen to me. You are probably the most courageous person I've ever known. Last year, everyone, including me, believed the Master would kill me just because a crusty old book of prophecies said so. But you didn't listen. You marched right into his lair, and you brought me back to life. You could have been killed yourself, but you didn't panic, you didn't falter, and you never gave up hope."

She gently placed her hand over Xander's heart, over the tattoo Angel had placed there. He shuddered, and self-consciously tried to push her hand away, but she held it there, as if she could somehow draw out the pain simply by touching him.

"Don't you see? You're just as strong as I am right here, where it counts. If anyone can get through this, it's you, Xander. You're the one who taught me to believe that no situation is ever hopeless."

Xander wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed it in silent thanks. He was astounded to see the admiration shining in Buffy's eyes, the corners of her mouth quivering ever so slightly as she tried to remain composed. Xander allowed her to embrace him, and thought it strange that Buffy felt much larger than himself as she soothed him.

A few moments passed before he could finally swallow the lump in his throat. "Really?" Xander asked, touched by Buffy's heartfelt speech. "You believe all that stuff you said?"

"Yeah, you big dork," Buffy giggled, smoothing his hair as she hugged him. She paused, and arched her eyebrow. "You're not going to make me say it again are you?"

"Into a tape recorder would be nice. That way I can play the tape over and over until I convince myself." Xander was surprised to discover he actually felt a little better. Buffy had thrown him a life preserver, something he could hold owhilwhile he faced the disaster his life had suddenly become. "Thanks, Buff."

Cordelia entered the lavatory, carrying a maroon Sunnydale High School sweatshirt. Blushing, Xander quickly pulled away from Buffy, concerned about his girlfriend's reaction to the sight of him half-clothed and in the arms of another woman.

But Cordelia didn't say anything about the embrace as she handed him the sweatshirt. "I-I couldn't remember your combination, but you left this in my locker. It should be warm enough."

"Thanks." He stood up, and noticed that she averted her eyes and backed away from him as he dressed. Normally, when Xander exposed a bit of skin, Cordelia would flash that sexy, wicked smile that made him so crazy about her. He remembered the day they'd spent at the beach; after stripping down to their swimsuits, they'd wolf-whistled each other and giggled like maniacs while they wrestled under the boardwalk.

Now, nothing. No appreciative look, no smart remark. Without waiting for Xander and Buffy, Cordelia turned to leave.

"Um, Cordy?"

Could he sound any more tentative? It had taken a long time for Xander to feel secure about his relationship with Cordelia, and in one day, he had managed to slide right back to square one.

"Ugh. I'm outta here. This place is beyond gross, and Giles is waiting for us in the library," Cordelia responded curtly. Carefully keeping her designer pumps away from the puddles on the floor, she walked out the door without glancing back.

/Great. Just great! She can't even stand being in the same room with me anymore./

Buffy gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze, and they walked down the hallway to the school library in silence.

When they entered the library, Xander saw Giles sitting at the table, reading a huge, ominous-looking tome. Giles looked up, a somber frown on his face, and slowly closed the book.

Xander rubbed the back of his head and looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry about the freak out session, G-Man."

"That's quite alright. H-how is your wrist? Do you think it needs further attention?"

"Nah. I feel better already. Got the pep talk from the Buffster and everything. So, what's the plan? Research, research, research?"

Cordelia snorted. "What else is new? Okay, dibs on the non-dead language books with the pictures." She walked over to the table, and picked up a book from the large stack Giles had compiled. Before she could sit down and open it, he pulled it out of her hands.

"No, I-I believe we should skip the research tonight. It has been a very trying evening, and I believe it would be best for Xander to get some rest, and allow his wounds to fully heal. I'll drive him home. Buffy, go with Cordelia, make sure she arrives home safely, then meet me back at my flat to discuss tonight's patrol."

/It's only 8 o'clock. When has Giles ever turned down an opportunity to throw an all night, hard-core research party? He loves that kind of thing! Hitting the books, that's what Watchers do. So why does he want to put it off until later?/

"Ooh, goodie. Cruising with Buffy, won't that be tons of fun." Cordelia crossed her arms and glared at her. "I just had my car detailed, so don't even think about getting any vamp dust or demon pus on the leather interior, understand?"

"What about cheerleader blood? Think you can get that out of your floor mats?" Buffy snapped. The library erupted into a hailstorm of high-pitched shrieks, as the two girls pelted each other with insults.

Xander cringed, and wondered if he could click his ruby red Converse Chucks together and wish himself home.

"That's enough!" Giles boomed, slamming the book down so hard a cloud of dust rose from the table, and everyone jumped. "Stop your bloody squabbling and concentrate on the crisis at hand!"

Giles ripped off his glasses, and he spoke with a ferocity Xander rarely associated with the mild-mannered librarian. "We are at war, and Angelus is more dangerous than any enemy we have ever faced. All of us must remain on constant alert. He knows all our weaknesses, and will use that knowledge to annihilate us, if we let him. The last thing wed red right now is dissension in the ranks. We need to pro eac each other. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Cordelia saluted him, incredulous after the Watcher's angry outburst. "Way to go Jack Nicholson intense there, mister. We've talked about switching to decaf, right?"

Giles rolled his eyes and put his glasses back on. "My God, why do I bother?"

"Giles, you're totally right," admitted Buffy. "We're being incredibly stupid. Cordelia, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have slapped you. What happened to Xander has us both wigged out, but we shouldn't take it out on each other."

"Well...I'm sorry, too. Mostly. I'm not taking back anything I said, but I can handle a truce."

"Deal," muttered Buffy. As apologies go, that was the best she could expect to get from Cordelia. "I'm going to call Willow and make sure everything is hunky dory with Oz, and then we'll go, okay?"

Cordelia nodded, and gathered her coat and purse from the table. Before Xander could approach her, Giles put his hand on his shoulder.

"We have a lot of things to discuss," he said quietly. "Come, we can speak in the car."

/Uh, oh./

Something about the older man's serious expression and the hint of urgency in his voice alarmed Xander. He forgot all about wanting to clear things up with Cordelia, and paused to consider what Giles wanted to talk about.

/He must have read stuff about pommes de sang while I was spazzing out in the bathroom. He knows something, but he doesn't want the girls to hear...oh, shit./

The bile rose in his throat again, and Xander swallowed hard. "Read anything interesting?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He had that same sick, guilty feeling he'd had as a 12-year-old, when he thought the store clerk might have seen him shoplift a few comic books, and he was terrified that he was going to be discovered.

/Does he know? If he d't k't know now, he will soon. God, I'm so stupid! Would anyone notice if I set the library on fire? It's not like anyone besides the Scooby Gang comes in here, anyway. Get rid of the books, maybe I can still fix this, make sure they don't ever find out what Angel did.../

In lieu of an answer, Giles handed Xander the book he'd been reading earlier. Xander paled, recognizing the volume as one of the black magic references, one of the "evil" books that gave him the creeps. Hand-bound in fleshy black leather. Rotting, yellowed pages that smelled like formaldehyde. Insane, rambling calligraphy with a disturbing hint of crimson. The Watcher usually kept this particular book of horrors locked in a cabinet, away from tender young eyes, because it was filled with graphic and often obscene descriptions of ancient tortures, rituals, and sacrifices.

Giles knew.

===== CONTINUED IN PART 8 =====