Eye of the Beholder

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Buffy/Yakuza AU
Chapter Summary: Andrew has a new life goal.
Word Count: 1259
Rating: Teen (buffy level violence)

 

         Andrew had been hiding in the basement from the bullies.  Tucker hadn’t had to hide from the bullies.  But Tucker was strong.  Everyone admired (or at least was scared of) Tucker…
         Except now there’s a bomb, and he’s frozen in the position he’s hiding in.  Tucked in a corner.  Safe.  Aside from the bomb, that is.
         He should be trying to figure out how to defuse it, or maybe remembering that shielding spell he’s read but never tried.  But it’s like this is a time bomb or something, from—
         He’s having trouble even thinking of that.  It sounds familiar but he’s got no clue.
         Time seems to be moving slowly, agonizingly, like he can feel the pain of every second.  But at the same time, time is moving way too quickly, like it’s molasses and he can’t move.
         And then Xander walks down the stairs.  He knows who Xander is; knows all of the Slayer’s friends, because he’d had aspirations to be Tucker’s minion, once upon a time. 
         Xander’s the weird one, the one you can’t quite predict.  Even his accent changes seemingly without him even realizing.  Case in point: he’s not the one that put the bomb there, but when he walks into the room cautiously he crouches and stares at it, eye slightly vacant, head tilted to the side.  “Which one isn’t going to blow?” he asks in a singsong voice before shaking his head and coming back to the present.  “If Majima can manage this, a dumb guy like me’s got a shot.  Even if I do have…less than two minutes.”
         “You’ll have less than that,” another voice—the one that had placed the bomb in the first place—insists.
         “I’m not leavin’ ‘till this is disarmed,” he responds.
         “Guess you’re not leaving,” the creature, probably the undead, agrees, just before attempting to stab Xander.
         But Xander—Xander cackles.  “Neither are you,” he responds, teeth bared in a savage predator’s grin.  And then he pulls a dagger out of his boot.  “Ohhh, look, you brought a butterknife to a knife fight.  Ain’t gettin’ nothin’ with that pigsticker.”  And he flips out of the way, grinning madly.  His eye is alive, wider than is natural.  He steps back out of the way and then darts forward, slashing wildly, accompanied by howling laughter.  The way he moves is…Andrew can’t keep his eyes off.
         The monster isn’t as amused.  “You won’t be laughing when you’re carved up and served with gravy.  I’ll start with your other eye, break your fingers…”
         “Actually, you should start with the toes.  Hurts more,” he responds, absolutely no fear in his tone.  “But yer gonna hafta do a lotta torturin’ in…” Glance over at the bomb, “…forty-nine seconds.”
         The guy glances over, too, and that’s when Xander buries the dagger to its hilt through the heart, slamming the monster’s head over and over into the wall, giggling softly.
         It tries to run away, only Xander moves into the way, right in front of the stairs, arms splayed wide and playful.  “Chances are, you’re not gettin’ past me, up the stairs, outta the buildin’…tick tock, tick tock.”  He’s gotten sing-songy again.  Andrew finally realizes what this all reminds him of—a saner version of the Joker.  Except he’s trying to disarm, not set, the bomb.
         “You’re going to die, too,” the undead not-vampire points out.
         “Guess so.  Who’s more afraid, in the end?”  Not-so-anonymous caller Andrew says the other dude is, because that brown eye is entirely clear and fearless.
         “I’m already dead.  That won’t change,” the confirmed undead argues.
         “Yeah, but yer partyin’, stealin’ dead.  Doubt the ash left from the explosion will have any consciousness left but if it does all you’ll be doin’ is relivin’ the pain for all eternity.”  That’s…surprisingly philosophical.
         “If that’s true, you’ll be in pain, too.”  The other figure has actually begun to shake.
         “I already am,” Xander replies simply, something stark in his tone.  “At least it’ll be quiet.”
         The standoff continues, and Andrew can’t fully determine whether he’s breathless because he’s holding his breath or the look on Xander’s face.
         Then, suddenly, the undead (zombie, maybe?) breaks, and cuts the wire.
         “Wouldja look at that, it really was that easy?” Xander asks, smiling.  “Good boy, Jackie-chan.”  He giggles at that—and, yeah, Jack was the name, wasn’t it?  And even if it’s pronounced differently, that is actually kind of funny.  “I don’t care if you try ta make good on yer promise ta carve me up, but I ain’t gonna let ya start stabbin’ if I ain’t in on the fun, friendly warnin’.”
         Andrew has a new goal in life.  He’s absolutely going to become Xander’s minion, and he’ll convince Xander even if it takes him his whole life.

         Andrew appears next to Xander, holding out the cup of hot chocolate, heart in his throat.
         Willow’s staring at him, utterly confused.
         “Xander, did you hire a PA when we weren’t looking?”
         “Please let me be your Padawan,” Andrew pleads, and Xander just raises an eyebrow.
         “I’m not a Jedi.  Or a Sith.”  Xander walks off, and Andrew trails behind at a distance.

         The porch light turns on, and Xander comes out rubbing sleepily at his right eye.  “Senpai has noticed ya,” he mutters through a yawn, “an’ we’ll gab about whatever ya want tomorrow, but please stop hangin’ outside my window at three A.M.  Makes it hard t’sleep an’ I’d feel bad if you wound up a midnight snack.  Sleep on the couch, don’t be a creep.”
         Xander steps back inside, and, feeling elated and shy, Andrew follows.  This is a victory.  He’s probably not going to sleep knowing that Xander’s in his bed in his bedroom so close by…!
         It feels like slightly less of a victory when it’s morning and he has the ex-librarian glaring at him over a cup of tea.

         They slowly get used to him, mostly by him doing his best to be indispensable.  Andrew brings all the food he can and reads all the dusty tomes without complaint.  He’s started making a Cliffs Notes for when they’re trying to identify the demon.  Or a reference book, if one wants to think of it that way, including the original book and page numbers in the notes.  He feels kind of bad about needing rescue after trying to get information from Willy.  Twice.  He feels even worse after seeing Xander’s disappointed expression, but he has to try.  He badgers Willow into letting him help her try to come up with spells.  Honestly, it isn’t until he starts baking in earnest that they really start including him like he’s part of them, but whatever works.  He’s not going to complain, and the most important ingredient, of course, is love.

         Andrew’s put a lot of thought into this.  He’s a little nervous, but the next time he sees Xander he pulls off his shirt easily, showing the man his back.
         “…Coming from a geek, yer such a nerd, Annie-chan,” he comments.
         “Coming from you, boss, that’s a compliment,” Andrew replies, practically glowing.  It’s just the outlines and it had hurt more than he’d expected, but it was for Xander, so it was worth it. 
         The beholder is a fun play on words, particularly with the ‘beauty is in the eye of thing’, though he’s not going to ever say that out loud because that’s far too cheesy.  Particularly since it looks badass, too.  And he just couldn’t resist the Sith symbol just because.
         “Yare yare.”  Xander sounds resigned, but not in a bad way.