Kyrie Eleison
Feb. 28th, 2017 10:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Iron Man Crossover (Self-Made Hero)
Summary: Xander has to deal with the aftermath of the battle and the loss of a friend. (Not one of the main Scoobies, but still.)
Word Count: 1046
Rating: Gen, Angst
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Iron Man Crossover (Self-Made Hero)
Summary: Xander has to deal with the aftermath of the battle and the loss of a friend. (Not one of the main Scoobies, but still.)
Word Count: 1046
Rating: Gen, Angst
It turns out that she’d gotten the whole gang together over this. Maybe he had actually freaked her out a fair amount when he’d taken off like that. They all look shocked at the state of the warehouse. To be fair, it is his home.
“You can stay for the night,” Giles offers, exhausted, and in thanks Xander bites back the inappropriate comment about Giles’ other houseguest (which had, apparently, left, or he wouldn’t have made the offer).
Buffy’s brought her favorite greataxe. She hacks a bit but eventually manages to dismember the demon. Xander would feel bad for it, but he’s just kind of exhausted and had been put on the list of ‘suitable sacrifices’. Again. He’s feeling a little cosmic annoyance at that one. It’d been planning to do just as much, if not worse, and he’s too tired so it’s better to save the moral quandary for another day. Or maybe another week.
At least this little incident had managed to shake Willow out of her magic-induced tunnel vision. He doesn’t have any delusions about this just affecting him. Some parts of the project are just as much her baby as they are his. She’s put just as many sleepless nights into it, as if part of her recognizes that the magic addiction is doing a number on her body. He’s aware that what she’s doing now is not healthy either—Willow needs to eat and sleep and relax more—but it’s an improvement on something that might literally be killing her, and the only thanks he needs to confirm he’s doing the right thing is the small smile Tara gives him when she comes to pick up her sleep-deprived muttering girlfriend. The vast wilds of magic theory are a safer place to lose her than in what is essentially becoming a drug addiction.
She’s staring in dismay at the remains of his workshop. She seems more alive, more caring, more Willow than she’s been in ages. He can tell she’s looking around and calculating the damage and finding the price too high.
He notes that the axe does better damage-wise than any of his high-tech weapons and the thought crosses his mind that maybe he should look into the summoning of weapons—an axe of light, or something, in this case. It’d be an interesting challenge, a good project to keep him alive and a way to distract himself from current events. He’d have to work up some way to stabilize it, assuming that’s not just your average spell. But it’s not happening at the moment. Research later. He’s barely standing, armor crackling, as it is.
“Zathras?” Willow asks in a voice barely above a whisper, but silence greets her. She turns to him, and he attempts bravely to not break down crying.
“White Star, scan for Zathras or intact components,” he commands, voice cracking a bit. The vocalizers cover it up like it’s not even a problem in the first place. To be honest, he’d been stalling, hoping this moment wouldn’t come. Like Joseph, he’d been afraid of the quiet that would answer.
He’s ninety-eight percent certain what the answer will be. He knows that White Star will have scanned already, just in case her brother was still alive and she could save him with quick response. The fact that she hasn’t brought an intact component to his attention already means, he’s fairly certain, that there’s nothing left, but he’ll leave that to Star to confirm. There’s all of a broken heartbeat before she responds. “There are a few intact small components, as well as the shielded safe. The rest, including your bed and a few of the collectables, are irrecoverable. There is…” she pauses, and he’s already crying, silently, letting the tears stream down his face and into his suit. He’ll have to clean it later, but on the other hand he can do that when he’s taking care of all the battle damage. Where he’s capable of doing so. “…There is no sign of Zathras anywhere. Ranger One.”
She adds the last as some kind of reassurance to herself.
His mind goes a little blank. Which is weird. He’s always thinking, always reacting, but suddenly nothing feels real, nothing feels safe. Then a lone thought floats through his head.
Huh, I get the feeling she’s gonna be overprotective. Weird. But I’m not gonna complain, not after…I think we’ll all need our reassurances.
Willow bursts into tears and he pulls her in close for a wordless hug, the tears now flowing freely, refusing to remove his faceplate so they can see him so vulnerable. Maybe they wouldn’t mind; maybe they’d help. But his ego literally cannot handle the stress right now. The only thing keeping him standing is the armor.
“Can’t you—can’t you just recreate it?” Buffy asks, tentatively touching his shoulder, and, again not trusting his voice, he just shakes his head emphatically.
“Z-Zathras. He’s…he’s like a person, Buffy. He’s an AI.” Willow sniffles against his suit. It’s definitely going to need cleaning, but he’s not going to be a hypocrite and get mad at her for that, not when he can’t stop the tears from flowing either. “Xander only did some of the programming. Basically he created a baby Zathras. The rest was Zathras growing up. With help and guidance, yes, but he’s like a person. You can’t just duplicate a person.” The others weren’t as close to him, but Willow’d spent a lot of time in his warehouse, working with him, working with Zathras, hanging out with the two of them.
“If I had a backup or something,” he finally manages. It’s not a full thought but it’s shocking he could get out that much as it is. And then, because he can’t help it and because the room wasn’t already trashed, he smacks what’s left of the table with a gauntleted fist and it folds like a slice of cheese. The sound makes Willow flinch, and he can feel Buffy’s reassuring squeeze even through the armor.
“If you want, we can have a funeral,” Buffy promises, and even the armor’s not enough anymore. He falls to his knees, Willow following and hugging him back and trying to make reassuring noises even through her own grief.
“You can stay for the night,” Giles offers, exhausted, and in thanks Xander bites back the inappropriate comment about Giles’ other houseguest (which had, apparently, left, or he wouldn’t have made the offer).
Buffy’s brought her favorite greataxe. She hacks a bit but eventually manages to dismember the demon. Xander would feel bad for it, but he’s just kind of exhausted and had been put on the list of ‘suitable sacrifices’. Again. He’s feeling a little cosmic annoyance at that one. It’d been planning to do just as much, if not worse, and he’s too tired so it’s better to save the moral quandary for another day. Or maybe another week.
At least this little incident had managed to shake Willow out of her magic-induced tunnel vision. He doesn’t have any delusions about this just affecting him. Some parts of the project are just as much her baby as they are his. She’s put just as many sleepless nights into it, as if part of her recognizes that the magic addiction is doing a number on her body. He’s aware that what she’s doing now is not healthy either—Willow needs to eat and sleep and relax more—but it’s an improvement on something that might literally be killing her, and the only thanks he needs to confirm he’s doing the right thing is the small smile Tara gives him when she comes to pick up her sleep-deprived muttering girlfriend. The vast wilds of magic theory are a safer place to lose her than in what is essentially becoming a drug addiction.
She’s staring in dismay at the remains of his workshop. She seems more alive, more caring, more Willow than she’s been in ages. He can tell she’s looking around and calculating the damage and finding the price too high.
He notes that the axe does better damage-wise than any of his high-tech weapons and the thought crosses his mind that maybe he should look into the summoning of weapons—an axe of light, or something, in this case. It’d be an interesting challenge, a good project to keep him alive and a way to distract himself from current events. He’d have to work up some way to stabilize it, assuming that’s not just your average spell. But it’s not happening at the moment. Research later. He’s barely standing, armor crackling, as it is.
“Zathras?” Willow asks in a voice barely above a whisper, but silence greets her. She turns to him, and he attempts bravely to not break down crying.
“White Star, scan for Zathras or intact components,” he commands, voice cracking a bit. The vocalizers cover it up like it’s not even a problem in the first place. To be honest, he’d been stalling, hoping this moment wouldn’t come. Like Joseph, he’d been afraid of the quiet that would answer.
He’s ninety-eight percent certain what the answer will be. He knows that White Star will have scanned already, just in case her brother was still alive and she could save him with quick response. The fact that she hasn’t brought an intact component to his attention already means, he’s fairly certain, that there’s nothing left, but he’ll leave that to Star to confirm. There’s all of a broken heartbeat before she responds. “There are a few intact small components, as well as the shielded safe. The rest, including your bed and a few of the collectables, are irrecoverable. There is…” she pauses, and he’s already crying, silently, letting the tears stream down his face and into his suit. He’ll have to clean it later, but on the other hand he can do that when he’s taking care of all the battle damage. Where he’s capable of doing so. “…There is no sign of Zathras anywhere. Ranger One.”
She adds the last as some kind of reassurance to herself.
His mind goes a little blank. Which is weird. He’s always thinking, always reacting, but suddenly nothing feels real, nothing feels safe. Then a lone thought floats through his head.
Huh, I get the feeling she’s gonna be overprotective. Weird. But I’m not gonna complain, not after…I think we’ll all need our reassurances.
Willow bursts into tears and he pulls her in close for a wordless hug, the tears now flowing freely, refusing to remove his faceplate so they can see him so vulnerable. Maybe they wouldn’t mind; maybe they’d help. But his ego literally cannot handle the stress right now. The only thing keeping him standing is the armor.
“Can’t you—can’t you just recreate it?” Buffy asks, tentatively touching his shoulder, and, again not trusting his voice, he just shakes his head emphatically.
“Z-Zathras. He’s…he’s like a person, Buffy. He’s an AI.” Willow sniffles against his suit. It’s definitely going to need cleaning, but he’s not going to be a hypocrite and get mad at her for that, not when he can’t stop the tears from flowing either. “Xander only did some of the programming. Basically he created a baby Zathras. The rest was Zathras growing up. With help and guidance, yes, but he’s like a person. You can’t just duplicate a person.” The others weren’t as close to him, but Willow’d spent a lot of time in his warehouse, working with him, working with Zathras, hanging out with the two of them.
“If I had a backup or something,” he finally manages. It’s not a full thought but it’s shocking he could get out that much as it is. And then, because he can’t help it and because the room wasn’t already trashed, he smacks what’s left of the table with a gauntleted fist and it folds like a slice of cheese. The sound makes Willow flinch, and he can feel Buffy’s reassuring squeeze even through the armor.
“If you want, we can have a funeral,” Buffy promises, and even the armor’s not enough anymore. He falls to his knees, Willow following and hugging him back and trying to make reassuring noises even through her own grief.
