madimpossibledreamer | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 29

Happy Christmas!

Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Xander and Fitz look for the Stand User.
Word Count: 1,436
Rating: K
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Warning: Darker chapter.

It takes effort, but eventually Xander manages to reply. “How are you planning to do that?” Every word’s a struggle. He doesn’t particularly feel like finishing his question. Fitz can get it. He’s much smarter than the Zeppo. “London’s huge.” His eyes try to close, but Fitz shakes him again. He’d resent how bossy Speedwagon is right now, but he can’t bring himself to care. He doesn’t have much energy, and if he did, it wouldn’t be spent on that.

“Neither of us is dying today,” the blond promises him. “And on that note, we will find the Stand’s owner, because we’re not going to die.”

Xander manages a smile. That’s about the answer he expected. He doesn’t bother to answer this time, though.

“Could you sense anything with your Ripple-fu?” Fitz hesitates a second before using what he no doubt considers a ridiculous name, but uses it anyway. Probably because Xander had been the one to name it, with his particular Xander-like naming style.

“I was just showing off. I’m useless.” It’s even harder to speak out loud. He’d almost go for telepathy, except he didn’t particularly want to think either.

“You’re not…” Fitz sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. “…All right, then. Will food help?”

Xander thinks about that. Twinkies. Chocolate. The cake he’d shared with Dawnie in the kitchen so long ago. Pancakes.

Nothing sounds good. That should ring alarm bells in his head. In fact, he’s pretty sure he hears them ringing. But ignoring them is the easier route to take.

His lack of a reaction, apparently, is enough to worry Fitz further. But it’s acceptable as part of the conversation, which is good, because this is way too difficult.

He’s placed leaning near the front desk, carefully. “I’m just going to go look for clues.”

He thinks about replying. About calling him Sherlock, or asking if he needs a magnifying glass. He doesn’t.

He’s happily dozing when a voice he doesn’t recognize asks a question that requires deciphering. “Did she run out on you?” The man looks a bit taken aback at the blank stare he receives, and clarifies, “…You know, the woman who tore out of here a couple minutes ago.”

Fitz has come back, and can join in. “What woman?”

“She was shabbily dressed, which is why I was shocked. Usually we wouldn’t let in her type, but then, somehow she got in without us seeing.” That description rings more bells that are quickly added to the ‘Xander is ignoring’ list. “And I think I saw a snake, which is…” The man shudders.

“She’s a burglar. She took something valuable.” The man looks shocked, and the conversation continues. It’s too much work to follow it though. Xander resumes staring at the wall, not letting himself think about Anya, or Buffy, the second time, or Jesse, or about how he couldn’t fight the First, couldn’t even stop himself from losing an eye.

“Come on, Jojo.” He doesn’t move. A flame suddenly appears in his vision, and he falls a little, startled. “Focus on the flame, Xander. Please.”

It’s pretty. Xander’s gaze drops helplessly to his hands. His hands which have nothing but blood and pain on them. Hands that have hurt, hands that have failed to help. A little blood’s seeped through the bandages, but it’s nothing he doesn’t deserve.

“Concentrate on walking. You can do that, can’t you? It’s something simple, something manageable, something even you can do.” There’s not a hint of mocking, which for a fleeting moment Xander misses. It’d be normal.

He glances back up, at the matches, at the gentle face in front of him, and nods. It’s a small nod, but he needs to save his strength if he’s going to walk.

Somehow, following Fitz one step at a time, they make it to a bus. It’s a double decker, which would’ve had him really excited under normal circumstances. He’d be babbling idiocies about mummies and Stonehenge and all sorts of things, and someone would listen with an amused indulgence. He stares fixedly at somewhere instead. It’s easy enough to do. He does move his gaze when the Englishman nudges him and whispers, “…You’re really scaring her, you know.” His vision sharpens again in protest, and he notices a raggedy girl sitting about where he’d been staring mindlessly. He gives her what little smile his energy allows and looks away, staring at something else he doesn’t comprehend.

They get off the bus. They walk around aimlessly for a little, before Xander can’t bring himself to take another step. He leans against the wall.

Fitz approaches, and that’s when he realizes something is desperately wrong. Lotus Juice is nearly completely visible, not hiding in some non-water. It’s shriveled, browning a little. It doesn’t look healthy. The way that Fitz is having trouble standing doesn’t bode well, either.

“If one of us has to die, Jojo, it’s my duty to do so.” Fitz manages a shaky smile, a limp and slightly dry laying trembling on his hand. Xander sees it coming, knows that yet another person is going to sacrifice themselves so he can live on, unable to save any of them. He shakes his head, but that’s all he can manage. He’s telling his body to do things, to move, to jerk away, anything to stop Fitz from whatever he’s planning. It’s that feeling he had before with the mask, yelling at the person in the movie not to open the door, the monster’s on the other side, but this time even though Fitz can hear him, unlike that character in the movie, he’s not listening. “From a Speedwagon to a Joestar.”

Fitz has started coughing up blood, and Xander comes to the sickening realization that his ally had lied to him before. These aren’t just cuts. It’s internal bleeding, and they’ve been running around for hours while Fitz has been bleeding to death. Even as his hands heal completely, even as a bit of light and color return to the world as the Englishman pours every last remaining ounce of his strength into it, and Lotus Juice further withers as a soothing, sap-like substance leaks onto his hands, Speedwagon begins to slump.

Xander manages to find the strength from somewhere inside, forcing himself up off the ground where he’s lying. He’s not sure when that happened. He’s not sure when any of this happened. This can’t be the way this ends.

“Fitz. Fitz, please.” His vision blurs, and he thinks whatever it is is affecting him again, until he feels the wetness on his cheeks. He furiously wipes it away. He can’t miss this. He can’t mess this up. Not like everything else. “You’re my friend. You can’t…”

The slightest of smiles crosses the blond’s face, but his eyes fall shut, his breathing slowing.

He hears a strangled sob behind him, and turns to find the girl in the ratty jeans that he’d seen at the restaurant. She’s staring, uncomprehending, terrified, at Fitz’s body lying unmoving on the pavement. And beside her is something out of one of Giles’ books—a feathered, flying serpent at the girl’s side. He doesn’t recognize it. Not really.

Pretender does, and he’s just lost someone again, just been as useless as he’s been thinking ever since they ran into this Stand User. His Stand charges with a roar, throwing her into the wall. It’s not even bothering with the ‘Toratora’ thing anymore. The flying snake is charging him in desperation and anger, and he can feel the phantom pain as it bashes itself into his Stand again and again. His vision’s starting to blur again, this time with a reddish haze, and he’s losing himself in the sensation. It’d be so easy to hurt her, make her feel what pain is, how his friend must’ve died in agony.

His vision isn’t completely gone, though. It’s really weird, like he’s not exactly seeing it, but for whatever reason, he can see a little through his left eye. His very not-there left eye. It’s blurry, but it’s not covered in blood, and it’s telling him that the girl he’s holding, throwing again, is in pain and very scared and was genuinely shocked, genuinely horrified at what her Stand had done.

With an effort, he calls Pretender to him. He almost thinks his Stand won’t come, still too busy hurting the one who’d hurt his friend, an eye for an eye, but with a frustrated growl the Stand drops the girl and steps away, back to his side, and the street is just filled with two distinct sounds of gasping for breath.