Conversations with the Past

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Assassin's Creed (The Meddling Gene)
Summary: If they thought Desmond was a little too calm in situations, they really don't know what to make of Xander.
Word Count: 670
Rating: Teen

         “Peace, brother.” His pronunciation is horrible, he knows, but hopefully Altaïr will at least be able to understand him.
         “You are not my brother,” he disagrees harshly, and—
         Yeah, okay, so he can’t argue that, but still. Not a hostile here, either.
         “I am an ally to the Assassins.” Except for William Miles, who just reminds him of dear ol’ dad, and he’s definitely going to punch the guy in the face if he sees him. “Use your Eagle Vision. It’ll tell you.”
         It’s a slight relief when the arm around his neck gets slightly less strangley and the hand moves away from his throat. Not that Desmond’s wearing a Hidden Blade, but hey, the Bleedy Assassin wouldn’t know that, would he?
         It’s then that Rebecca wanders into the kitchen, probably looking for a late night snack, and the second she spots them both, her eyes go wide and she freezes.
         “Hi. Kitchen’s occupied.” He even gives a jaunty little wave, and Rebecca starts inching right back out—maybe to go get Lucy, who knows, but it’s a sensible move.
         “She stays,” Altaïr barks, and rather than make an ancient Assassin upset Xander decides to roll with it.
         “Think he wants you where he can see you, but I can probably talk some sense into him,” he offers, trying to be quick. “She’s one of the Assassins. What year is it for you?”
         Strangely, Altaïr doesn’t see that as weird. At all. He just spits the word. “The Apple.”
         “Not quite that, but...basically a Piece of Eden? Yeah.” He assumes, because Abstergo said their tech came from the Ones Who Came Before, which are Ancients, he’s calling it right now, and so therefore in a roundabout way it practically is.
         Altaïr hisses out a sigh of frustration and then backs off. “What year is it now, then? How do I return to my own time?”
         “2012. And, uh. I think it usually just happens on its own. We don’t control it.” The guy looks young. In Desmond’s body. Whatever. “Sorry, man.”
         “I will help if I can, while I am here.” Doesn’t sit still well, does he? That’s familiar. “Do you know why you have a little green?” he asks, poking at Xander’s chest, and—what?
         “I don’t know how your Eagle Vision works, I’m sorry.” He’s about to say something else, but that’s when Desmond phases back in and stumbles, looking shaky and a little panicked.
         “Did you just talk Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad down?” Rebecca asks, sounding like she can’t quite work out whether to be impressed or terrified, and Xander shrugs, feeling the drop of adrenaline if not quite like Desmond’s experiencing.
         “I probably won’t be as useful with this, uh, Ezio guy? Unless...maybe I could use Latin, but I’m pretty sure my pronunciation will still suck and my grammar will be all over the place.” Desmond and Rebecca stare at him, and he knows he’s whining, but still. “I read a lot?” he offers.
         “Green?” Desmond questions, and Xander squints at him. He’s never remembered any of his Bleeding Effect episodes before. This might be concerning, or maybe he’s doing something right. They tend to look identical far too often for comfort or decision-making.
         “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry?” he continues, and they exchange glances. They are really not buying it, are they. That’s fair, given the weirdness that is his life, but also, he has no idea what that’s about. “Seriously, I have no idea, that’s really weird, but yes, I do have occasion to read ancient manuscripts on a regular basis, I’d suck if I didn’t pick up something.”
         What he mutters under his breath next they probably weren’t meant to hear, but Desmond could have sworn he’d said something about “He’s not the only dead guy I’ve talked to lately,” which makes absolutely no sense but then, most things Xander says make no sense. It’s unclear whether his being aware of and actually apologizing for that on occasion makes it better or worse.