my time has come

[madimpossibledreamer]

Roommates are back an hour before they said they'd be (well, and a day, but who's counting) with covid.  Well-wishes are appreciated!
~Dreamer~

Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Constantine|Hellblazer
Summary: Xander can't do anything the normal way.
Word Count: 1256
Rating: Teen, with the warnings. because it wouldn't be constantine or hellblazer without the warnings
Warning: ...mostly just willow and some nameless...thing being creepy.  some swearing.  brief reference to smoking.  this one's also fairly mild.

 

         They learn, quickly, that Xander can’t cast spells the normal way. He’d privately suspected, of course. How could he not? When normal magic goes wonky around him on a regular basis, that’s indicative. Giles had been slightly more surprised, mostly because he’d been stuck in the rigid Watcher’s ways of thinking so long he’d forgotten the more dangerously open-minded ways of the Ripper. Xander can’t even cast a normal spell to light candles. He’d only managed the one to check the state of his soul and that was in the aftermath of the night of chaos. Things’ve gotten….a trifle hazy since then, but then, more than one set of memories in one body’s no bed of roses, and some spell effects have a way of wearing off.
         It takes much longer to work out that it’s not exactly that he’s powerless, either. The most reliable of his magic is the hellfire, usually on his hands, but sometimes, he can cover his whole body. Sometimes he can even throw fireballs, but as that’s not guaranteed, he prefers not to rely on it. Better not to, in the long run. He tries not to rely on the hellfire in general, on account of the fact he’d drawn attention from something and didn’t want further details on what that something is. Been unnerving enough to speak with something inhabiting Joyce’s body, leaving cryptic hints and vaguely threatening warnings, and then just go with no trace left behind.
         But it’s easy to work out that’s why he’s a delicious temptation for the things that roam the night. Not like they know it, just feel the pull, but that hint of something smoky and spicy in his blood, that’s hellfire. (He still hasn’t worked out what it’d been before that, because he’d been a demon magnet all the same, before all this.)
         He is, of course, only allowed to try magic under supervision. Willow promises, too, but they both suspect she’s not entirely following the rules. He tries to warn her, tries to do what he can, but he’s not her keeper and can’t watch her forever. He has to have his little ‘study sessions’ at a different time—she’ll try to show off, when he’s here, be all competitive and get mad at him, again, that he’s not teaching her even when he has yet to make a book float. Probably she can sense the magic lurking under the surface of his skin. He might not be the Laughing Magician, and thank everything in the heavens and below that he’s not. The Synchronicity Wave is no lark and he’s just fine where he is, ta. But he’s still got the legacy of a Constantine running through his veins, and that’s power. (He suspects she’s attracted to power, because she’s yet more interested in him...but blows hot and cold, because she can’t stand that he’s not applying himself. Not exactly a new thing, but it’s got new bite, now. It makes him uncomfortable. Feels like, if she was a power-vampire, she’d suck him up and leave him dry.)
         He’s faffing about under Giles’ slightly disapproving glance when he finally manages it, and the light quickly dies as he glances over to the librarian to make sure he isn’t just seeing things. The man is frozen, blinking in shock, act of turning a page forgotten. “What did you do?”
         Xander’s trying to have a neutral look on his face, but it’s so very difficult not to just grin as wide as a jack’o’lantern. “Let’s work out if that was a fluke, shall we?” He concentrates on the candle more carefully, and this time the world fades around him, narrowing down to the single point. He visualizes that little spark of hope before him, holding out a hand in entreaty, and repeats the Egyptian three times, and there it is before him, a little flicker, maybe, but undeniably, unmistakably, there.
         Giles actually gets up to stare at the candle, getting his hand close enough to feel the heat, before stating eventually, “That shouldn’t have worked.”
         “You’re not wrong,” Xander acknowledges—bloody hell he shouldn’t be about to cry. It’s just a candle!
         “You used the power of three, Egyptian and gesture-based magic, but called on no deity...and was that Wiccan visualization?” The Watcher is as confounded as a man who knows how things should go can be.
         Thief of tradition, magpie of magic indeed. “Johnny doesn’t care to ask for help, specially not for something this minor. Knows better than most the price to be paid.” Not that he’s above it, really, Constantine will scrabble in the dirt if needs be, dignity having been one of the first things he’d set fire to, but he has a haggler’s instincts of when to approach. Xander had felt the mental resistance every time he’d tried to call on a deity for one of the beginner’s spells, but hadn’t stopped to consider for a mo it might actually be a mental block. It’s an inadequate explanation, but the man’s read Hellblazer, and it’s enough to get him thinking.
         “The way magic works in that universe is different than our own—and Constantine has been depicted using all manner of spells and traditions…” Giles, Xander thinks fondly, is mere centimetres from babbling about magic. He reins himself in, though, more’s the pity. Would have been a fun listen. “Let’s test, shall we?”
         Xander matches his grin, and they shall.
         By the end of the day, at which point it got dark before either realized, Xander’s learned enough to improvise on the spot and get something resembling functional. A lot of it is learning to let go, listening to his instincts to proper channel his will.
         The spell has to be cobbled together, a thing of Dr. Frankenstein’s making. He never gets the candle lit again, but then, why bother, when you could simply use a lighter, or, in a pinch, hellfire, though that’s like unleashing a dam to put out a tossed cig? Not as if crossing the room and using a lighter like any other mortal’s some great hardship. In general, Constantine’s philosophy seems to be ‘don’t waste effort on a spell when simple slight of hand, trickery, or a little footwork would do unless there’s time pressures’, which Xander happens to agree with. He has a decent memory of all the languages and spells at Constantine’s disposal, some of which even still work, though some, like the demon summoning, he’s not testing out like he’s at a kid’s fair. He can test exorcism some other time, though guesses it won’t be half useful. Most demons don’t possess bodies, that they’ve seen anyway, and a vampire vacating a dead body would just leave it dead. Better for all involved, really, but unless it’s kept busy it’ll tear his throat out before he can get two syllables out. Banishment, on the other hand, now that might be a handy trick.
         “Sideways Magic,” Xander announces when they’re packing up the candles back tidy in their little boxes. Watcher just meets that with a sideways glance and a raised eyebrow. “On account I have to come at it sideways,” he elaborates. He’d thought he was right clever, at least. Magick with a k if he’s feeling sassy, since he’s no heir of tradition.
         The librarian shakes his head and tries to hide the smile. “I suppose it is your own style of magic, and thus you have naming rights.” He can’t hide the fact that he’d enjoyed this, too.