madimpossibledreamer | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 9

A/N: Ladies and gents, it's the end of Act I!

Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The prophecy looms large.
Word Count: 2141
Rating: K
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Awaken.

Xander's eye flew open, staring at the darkened ceiling above him. For a moment, he thought he saw an oddly familiar wooden roof above him, but that faded with the stroke of lightning that illuminated every inch of his room in the mansion.

His left shoulder itched terribly, and the sense of danger had returned. What was going on? Every instinct shouted that he should just hide under his bed like a frightened kid, cowering in the shadows. Something bad was going to happen, and he was powerless to stop it. He was only human. He just got in the way. Why was he still here? Why was he, a mere human, pretending that he could rewrite fate? Useless efforts.

And yet...no. His friends were in danger. Innocents he didn't even know. How could he run from this nameless dread? Until it showed its fangs, he couldn't even gauge its threat properly.

He clenched his fist. What was that commanding voice he'd heard? Other than himself, no one was in the room, as the next flash showed. So, where did the voice come from...?

A panicked rapping at the door. "Sorry, Xander, but you've gotta wake up!"

Andrew's voice. "What's going on?" he asked warily, slipping on the eyepatch cautiously. Adrenaline warred with tiredness, and he had to stifle a yawn. Were they being invaded? Stupid as it sounded, had the stone mask made its move?

"Y-you're up?" Andrew sounded surprised, but his insomnia wasn't unknown in Slayer HQ. Was it? He figured everyone would've known that, or at least heard his nightmares at some point.

The other Watcher burst into the room, accidentally slamming the door into the wall in his haste. "I'm sorry about bursting in like this...look, Giles wants to see you." The expression on his face was apologetic but...scared? What did he have to be scared of? Were they suddenly overrun by vampires during the night or something?

"Andrew...what's...." he begins. After all, everyone around him keeps pretending, keeps shutting him out, won't tell him the truth, and he kind of deserves it by now, right? But instead, he's cut off without a thought. It's the only thing Andrew hasn't hesitated about so far.

As weird as it is to be dragged around by his fellow nerd in pajamas, that's exactly what's going on right now. "We don't have time for that. It's kind of an emergency. And I'm not a red shirt." This kind of fear is that he'd had around the First, which is really pretty worrisome in of itself. Red shirt? So he was worried about dying? Why?

He's tired, reacting to everything sluggishly, and the shock doesn't help him move any faster. The mansion seems completely deserted. Yeah, it's early, but the utter stillness still seems unnatural. They're moving quickly, but they're not running. He'd wonder if his fellow Watcher was just trying not to make noise, but Andrew isn't jumpily looking around, as if something's going to jump out of a corner at any second. Getting him to a specific location fast is the goal, but...why? Is it just because he's this tired that he can't think of an answer, or...?

The fear shivers down his spine, electric, and then he's being pulled into a room he's never seen before.

Andrew pulls him in a few more steps and then practically makes a run for it. Xander feels the fear, primal now, and wants to join in the run, go somewhere far away. What's going on? Why's Andrew Well, of all people, acting terrified of him, of all people? He's just a normal human... Heavy metal clamps down on his wrists, his neck, holding him in place.

He glances up and the room looks vaguely like Roman or Greek ruins, bleached white to the bones and judgmental. He doesn't belong here, a mere insect daring a temple to the gods. The first row of seats are raised further than the height of the main floor he's standing on, alienating him from anyone up there, and there's a wall cutting him off even more. Giles, Buffy, Willow, Dawn...all are sitting in those raised seats, all staring at him with varying degrees of horror, disappointment, and the hardened determination that he's seen on their faces a hundred times. When they're staring at a monster that they have to defeat. Spike's not particularly horrified or disappointed, but he looks ready for a fight.

He swallows nervously, but manages to not topple over or faint. "I think I've earned the right to know what's going on." It's a miracle, but his voice doesn't waver more than a little. Inwardly, he wants to run or flail or maybe cry, but none of those things would really help in this situation.

Giles is the one to speak. "Where's the mask?" There's no trace of the kind librarian here. It's Ripper, danger and destruction lurking just beneath the surface.

His brain literally stops working for a few seconds. Once it restarts, he manages a strangled, "What?" Out of all the things that he could've asked—he didn't want anything to do with the thing...wait. "It's missing?!" Does that mean that they weren't careful enough, that someone managed to figure out what it did and stole it first? His friends are in danger, maybe the world too, he hadn't gotten that proof to show them exactly how dangerous that mask was...

"Don't play innocent!" He sees a flash of teeth along with the glare, and he's never seen even Ripper this angry before. He involuntarily tries to take a step back, but remembers as his wrists and spine get uncomfortable that he's held in place by...something metal. "You took the mask. Tell us where it is and redeem yourself—unless it is, in fact, too late."

He's used to them not listening when he talks. He's used to them dismissing his fears, his concerns, his life. But this hostility...the people he regards as family have already declared him guilty in their hearts. Sure, he's been obsessed with it lately, and maybe that doesn't help his story, but the fact remains that he'd never lie about something like this, not when it's this dangerous. Tears spring to his eyes, and he'd wipe them away, if not for the heavy iron chaining his hands. He does his best to speak calmly, though doesn't succeed as well as he had before. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, G-man." The secret research; that's the only thing he's been hiding. He tries to convey that to them, that he had to do something about this threat. He tries to convey the hurt, the honesty, everything that he can possibly communicate without words, but his jury sits unmoved.

Well, not entirely unmoved. Willow begins to weep.

"There's a witness." Giles waves a hand toward another one of the raised sections, and he turns to see a girl-Slayer, probably-with a pink mohawk and piercings all over standing there, staring at him. She winks and smirks quickly, so he's the only one who sees. What...?

"Yeah, I saw him. I think he was trying to make sure no one noticed, though." He doesn't know her to look at, but he remembers that voice. The Slayer that was asking about why they bothered to keep around the humans. But this was too elaborate to just get rid of him. What was she after...?

"She's lying!" The question was, why? He looks at each of them in turn, but none of them are listening. This is just a nightmare, a horrible nightmare, and he'll wake up. "I'm telling you the truth! Believe me!"

The manacles and collar guard tighten slightly, and he realizes that Giles must be controlling them. The force of Ripper's anger was literally going to crush his throat and wrists if he wasn't careful. "You've been acting oddly, but I believed that to merely be a side effect of whatever evils you believed the stone mask was capable, as well as grief over Anya's death." He gestured again, and mohawk-girl was joined by several other Slayers. "However, that was merely what you wished us to think. You used our conversation to plant ideas in my mind, so any odd behaviors were written off and not investigated further. You used your funds, your ability to move around freely, to plot and take action without any of us the wiser. Those here noted your behavior. You were calling someone outside. Who?"

It'd been a few years, and he wasn't capable of making friends in Africa? More than that, why hadn't they confronted him about it before? Because...because they were scared? Did they really think he was a threat—the next threat? But he'd die first, before putting them in danger.

No. Wait, go back. This wasn't betrayal. They didn't think there was anything to betray. They didn't think he was Xander. Time for the truth. "I was calling someone else to look into the mask. No one was paying attention to me, and I wasn't going to let anything happen to my girls." He paused, a morbidly amused smile crossing his face. "Well. I didn't think anyone was paying attention to me. And I thought me being ignored was going to get everyone killed. Of course I'd do something about that." Fear, still, but manageable now. The fear that made him throw himself in front of the latest demon, knowing that at best all he could do was be a distraction thrown across the graveyard, at worst that he'd end up in a graveyard himself, alongside so many. "Just a couple days, and you'd see I'm telling the truth. The one I'd talked to was sending me a package with proof. But then, if you're currently this freaked out about it, you know that it's a threat. Still, it'll show that I'm not lying about this."

"Who are you?" The collar around his throat tightens until he can barely breathe, but with his new understanding of the situation, he sees the Ripper's rage for what it is. Fear. Fear that something's happened to one of his charges and he could do nothing to stop it. Fear that he can't protect any of them, perhaps not even himself. It's a feeling he can understand. It's all that's been fueling him for, what, the past three weeks? Longer?

Which means everything he's worked so hard to do wasn't for nothing. He can rest easy, now. Maybe they're not safe, but then, they never really have been. He can live with not being safe. But they'll be ready for the storm that's coming. Even with them distrusting him like this, he can't...won't think they'll kill him. Maybe torture him a little for information he doesn't have, but...he's had worse, and they'll figure out soon enough that he's the real deal. He smiles at all of them, tears in his eyes. "I'm the same Xander I've always been." He paused, realizing that nothing he was saying was making a difference. He might as well be completely honest. They couldn't tell whether it was him because none of them had actually bothered to try to figure out who he was in years. "I...I wish I was back in Africa. At least there...it was just me. I could make my own decisions, and I'd have to live with the consequences, but at least I wasn't being second-guessed and practically told I was a liar straight to my face. I don't know why I'm even here. You've made a decision without me. You'd listen to new Slayers over me. I wouldn't lie over something like this, but...it doesn't matter what I say, does it?" He pushes himself up from the slump, wiping at his eyes with his elbow as the manacles reflexively tighten. He'll stand tall, ready for whatever else they have to throw at them, because at least they might be safe. The itchiness from his left shoulder is gone, replaced with a dull warmth. "You've already made up your minds that everything I'm saying is a lie." He opens his hands, the clank of the chains emphasizing his words. "Don't drag this out. Just pronounce my sentence, already." He closes his eye, tries to call whatever shreds of dignity and calm he has left.

Giles clears his throat, clearly unamused, and is about to speak when suddenly the quiet, ominous room bursts into sound. He opens his eye only to see Buffy fall. Another stream of what looks like water hits Giles in his mouth, and he staggers a little. The chains fall loudly, but suddenly he's feeling a little dizzy himself.

"Sorry about this, Mr. Joestar, but it's the best rescue I can manage." Fitz? But before he can open his mouth, protest, question, his consciousness spins drunkenly into oblivion.