Returned Belonging
Dec. 31st, 2024 02:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerHappy New Year's Eve (or New Year's Day, depending on where you are in the world)!
...I...am actually really okay with this chapter ending up on NYE.
Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Xander senses something when they return to the hotel.
Word Count: 1729
Rating: Teen
Buffy glances over to see that Xander’s eyes have darkened to the point they almost look black, and he’s so casual it’s a sign he’s actually really twitchy, which is definitely confirmed by the way he feels to her Slayer senses. “What’s wrong?” she responds seriously, and he cocks his head slightly, like he’s listening. Honestly, he might be, considering the ghosts and Devil Arms like to talk to him.
“Someone’s been in here.” He sounds…actually kind of disturbed by that fact, but then, there’s a good reason for that. It could be anyone who wants them killed. It could be whatever they’re trying to deal with for the case. But—
“Not Giles?” Willow clarifies, and the fact that he doesn’t look any less grim means that he doesn’t have to voice his answer.
“Wouldn’t whoever it is have to be able to see through the ‘don’t see me’ aura?” That’s generally not good, particularly not with the amplification thing. No one should have a clue this is even here, let alone the ability to ignore the suggestion to be elsewhere. “Could it be Ethan?”
“They’d have to be able to see this place is here, yeah—which they shouldn’t unless they already know.” His voice still sounds shaken. “I’ll go in first. Keep an eye out.”
Willow opens her mouth to argue, shifting on her feet, but when he doesn’t even pause to listen, says nothing. Maybe she’s learned arguing, even to try to keep him safe, doesn’t tend to work. Though they should maybe worry more about him getting stabbed or kidnapped and tortured again. They’d been hoping that was just an aberration, but he’d still managed to get himself hurt the last couple cases, if a little less spectacularly.
His steps are nearly silent as he moves in, which is another kind of bad sign. He likes to look clumsy, and while in theory from what Willow said he should have ninja demon powers, he rarely actually goes for the actual subtle approach, so the fact that he’s making an effort this once… He makes a beeline for the front desk. “They’re gone,” he calls, voice a little stronger, and Buffy shivers a little.
“How do you know?” she asks, still ready for a fight, and he manages a smile in her direction as she comes in cautiously.
“It was faint enough I thought maybe they were just deep in, but it’s more like…you know how things lose temperature after they’re heated up? Same deal, only with a presence. I wouldn’t have even felt it if they weren’t non-human...” His voice trails off, and he stiffens, staring at the desk.
“Left a little present?” she asks, walking toward him, and he nods wordlessly. It takes her coming up to him to place a hand on his shoulder for him to even move or breathe. There’s a paper with some sort of writing on the table next to some weapons, both of which have probably been taken from his room.
“Someone else wrote this. In Pashu,” he states in a hushed voice, and she narrows her eyes.
“Isn’t that half of you?” There’s not a good way to put it, but she has no idea of how to say it better.
“C-closer than you think,” Xander stammers, hand trembling. This is the most affected she’s ever seen, at least without him disappearing on them all for a few weeks.
She squeezes his shoulder, and he remembers to keep talking. “It’s signed ‘Syuvai’. He left a letter, and…” He picks up and shows her two identical guns, one at a time, because he hasn’t let go of the paper—identical, aside from their coloration. One is light-colored, while the other is darker than your average gun. Buffy doesn’t really like guns, but they’re prettier than your average gun, at least.
“Wasn’t he using his shadow powers?” Willow’s curious.
“He wasn’t exactly trying to be subtle. He wanted me to know he’d been here.” He sounds...a little distant. Like he’s in shock.
“It’s nice getting a present from your famous dad, huh?” she asks with a smile.
He hasn’t stopped shaking. “You don’t get it. The man…” His hands have changed to a death grip that’s almost ripping the paper with the force of the intensity, “…the man I thought was my father for the longest time just beat me. I never…he never wanted me, never…everything I did was wrong, I was a burden….”
It’s not until he glances down at her hand in bewilderment and she feels the cold wetness that they both realize he’s crying.
“I’ve never…I’ve never…”
She pats him on the back, casually, carefully, taking the paper out of hands that half-feel more like claws. He’ll be upset if he accidentally tears such an important memory.
The hug from behind startles them both, but Willow gets him to calm down, as expected really. His tears stop, though his hands are still shaking. She rests her head against the back of his shoulder. “What does it say?”
He looks around, bewildered—so he hadn’t noticed Buffy taking it away.
She holds the paper out in front of him, and he manages to chuckle.
“Yeah, thanks.” The amused tone in his voice is back, so he’s feeling more normal. “My dear child,” he begins, and Willow interrupts.
“Why child? That seems kind of distant,” she states, frowning, and he shakes his head in response, leaning closer to them both.
“Pashu pretty much doesn’t refer to gender at all. It helps that there’s not a ton of difference between the male and female form unless they’re mimicking humans,” Xander states offhandedly, like it’s no big deal, and—huh.
Maybe it isn’t to him. He’s always treating them as equals, other than his weird, demonic possessiveness—not that they’re not the same, given how few people they have in their lives. Buffy can’t afford to lose Willow, or Giles, or Xander…they’re the only people she has. The only thing he’s pointed out is that they’re not as durable as he is, but he trusts all of them to fight alongside him, particularly once Willow demonstrated she could hold her own.
He seemed to pick up on the language almost instinctively, though he says his grammar and handwriting sucks. Maybe he’d done the same with Pashran culture.
“…Actually, it’s the word for ‘puppy’, which is sometimes used for ‘child’. It’s kind of slangy, but it…he’s trying to convey affection.” Xander’s taken on a distant, academic tone like none of this even affects him. “There is nothing in my life I regret more than not being there to watch you g-grow up,” he continues, confident voice gone. He’s shaky again.
Buffy traces comforting circles over his shoulderblade and he suddenly remembers to breathe, a huge breath in.
“From what I’ve learned and seen, you’ve grown up to be a fine young person. I wish I could have taken some credit and supported you as you deserved. I’ve been informed about the lover—they don’t exactly have a word for stepfather—who lives with your parent—mom. I make it a point not to hurt humans, but the way he acted toward you both—I wanted to tear that human—he’s talking about Tony, by the way—apart. You have better patience than me. It is touching that on your own you decided to follow in my footsteps and protect people, and reassuring that I have done the virtuous thing. For that, and for what you have decided to do with your life, I am proud of you. But don’t take this wrong—I will always be proud of you, because you are you.”
Xander has to stop, breathing uneven.
“That’s something else that didn’t quite translate?” Willow guesses, and he nods.
“Character is formed from the innate and the action. He’s essentially saying he likes what he’s seen from the innate, so he’s not worried about the action.” She’s really good at this, but then, they’ve been friends for forever. “I would be proud of you no matter what. You have collected Devil Arms diligently, and I have two more to add to that collection—Brahma and Shiva, twin guns. They are loyal companions, and they will be so for you. In case I never get another chance—I love you. Perhaps, if we get the chance to meet, I will explain my absence, and hope for your forgiveness.” He interrupts his reading. “Something bad happened.”
“We already suspected that,” Buffy states affectionately.
“He probably has a good excuse,” Willow agrees, and leans over. “This is a name, isn’t it?” She reads it out slowly. Buffy hadn’t even known that she’d been learning, but this is Willow, so she’s not really surprised. “Kratyakunuro?”
“Volume Fight,” Xander translates absentmindedly, still a little in shock.
A pause. “Volume fight?”
It does appear to be helping ground him a little, so that’s something. “Eh. Like…fights with music. Draws strength from sound. Uses song-spells in combat. That kinda thing.”
“Kra...yemyar?” Willow guesses, and apparently that’s right, too.
“Hunter. Pretty much.” Xander sighs. “And then Syuvai.”
“This is a good thing, right?” the Slayer asks, suddenly feeling a little unsure, because he’s not acting like it is.
“I just…” he runs a hand over his face, looking and sounding overwhelmed, still. “I don’t get to have nice things.”
“He seems like a cool guy. And if he’s not, you’ve still got us,” Buffy responds, and glances at Willow. And then they squish him in a hug.
“You know, you two are getting predictable,” he complains, grinning.
“Are you complaining?” Willow asks. She actually sounds a little bit hurt, like it’s a rejection of her friendship.
“Hell no.” He tries to get his arms out to hug them back. He’s still a little stuck, but it’s a good group hug anyway. And sure, it’s never going to be easy. They’re going to have to finally have that conversation. They’re going to say things that’ll hurt each other, and and with their situation family and socialization are always going to be difficult. Maybe it’s a bit sad and pathetic, but they do have each other, and it’s good to know that’s not going to change.
...I...am actually really okay with this chapter ending up on NYE.
Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Xander senses something when they return to the hotel.
Word Count: 1729
Rating: Teen
“Wait,” Xander states forcefully, holding a hand up. He’s not joking around, so it means it’s probably actually something to be concerned about.
Buffy glances over to see that Xander’s eyes have darkened to the point they almost look black, and he’s so casual it’s a sign he’s actually really twitchy, which is definitely confirmed by the way he feels to her Slayer senses. “What’s wrong?” she responds seriously, and he cocks his head slightly, like he’s listening. Honestly, he might be, considering the ghosts and Devil Arms like to talk to him.
“Someone’s been in here.” He sounds…actually kind of disturbed by that fact, but then, there’s a good reason for that. It could be anyone who wants them killed. It could be whatever they’re trying to deal with for the case. But—
“Not Giles?” Willow clarifies, and the fact that he doesn’t look any less grim means that he doesn’t have to voice his answer.
“Wouldn’t whoever it is have to be able to see through the ‘don’t see me’ aura?” That’s generally not good, particularly not with the amplification thing. No one should have a clue this is even here, let alone the ability to ignore the suggestion to be elsewhere. “Could it be Ethan?”
“They’d have to be able to see this place is here, yeah—which they shouldn’t unless they already know.” His voice still sounds shaken. “I’ll go in first. Keep an eye out.”
Willow opens her mouth to argue, shifting on her feet, but when he doesn’t even pause to listen, says nothing. Maybe she’s learned arguing, even to try to keep him safe, doesn’t tend to work. Though they should maybe worry more about him getting stabbed or kidnapped and tortured again. They’d been hoping that was just an aberration, but he’d still managed to get himself hurt the last couple cases, if a little less spectacularly.
His steps are nearly silent as he moves in, which is another kind of bad sign. He likes to look clumsy, and while in theory from what Willow said he should have ninja demon powers, he rarely actually goes for the actual subtle approach, so the fact that he’s making an effort this once… He makes a beeline for the front desk. “They’re gone,” he calls, voice a little stronger, and Buffy shivers a little.
“How do you know?” she asks, still ready for a fight, and he manages a smile in her direction as she comes in cautiously.
“It was faint enough I thought maybe they were just deep in, but it’s more like…you know how things lose temperature after they’re heated up? Same deal, only with a presence. I wouldn’t have even felt it if they weren’t non-human...” His voice trails off, and he stiffens, staring at the desk.
“Left a little present?” she asks, walking toward him, and he nods wordlessly. It takes her coming up to him to place a hand on his shoulder for him to even move or breathe. There’s a paper with some sort of writing on the table next to some weapons, both of which have probably been taken from his room.
“Someone else wrote this. In Pashu,” he states in a hushed voice, and she narrows her eyes.
“Isn’t that half of you?” There’s not a good way to put it, but she has no idea of how to say it better.
“C-closer than you think,” Xander stammers, hand trembling. This is the most affected she’s ever seen, at least without him disappearing on them all for a few weeks.
She squeezes his shoulder, and he remembers to keep talking. “It’s signed ‘Syuvai’. He left a letter, and…” He picks up and shows her two identical guns, one at a time, because he hasn’t let go of the paper—identical, aside from their coloration. One is light-colored, while the other is darker than your average gun. Buffy doesn’t really like guns, but they’re prettier than your average gun, at least.
“Wasn’t he using his shadow powers?” Willow’s curious.
“He wasn’t exactly trying to be subtle. He wanted me to know he’d been here.” He sounds...a little distant. Like he’s in shock.
“It’s nice getting a present from your famous dad, huh?” she asks with a smile.
He hasn’t stopped shaking. “You don’t get it. The man…” His hands have changed to a death grip that’s almost ripping the paper with the force of the intensity, “…the man I thought was my father for the longest time just beat me. I never…he never wanted me, never…everything I did was wrong, I was a burden….”
It’s not until he glances down at her hand in bewilderment and she feels the cold wetness that they both realize he’s crying.
“I’ve never…I’ve never…”
She pats him on the back, casually, carefully, taking the paper out of hands that half-feel more like claws. He’ll be upset if he accidentally tears such an important memory.
The hug from behind startles them both, but Willow gets him to calm down, as expected really. His tears stop, though his hands are still shaking. She rests her head against the back of his shoulder. “What does it say?”
He looks around, bewildered—so he hadn’t noticed Buffy taking it away.
She holds the paper out in front of him, and he manages to chuckle.
“Yeah, thanks.” The amused tone in his voice is back, so he’s feeling more normal. “My dear child,” he begins, and Willow interrupts.
“Why child? That seems kind of distant,” she states, frowning, and he shakes his head in response, leaning closer to them both.
“Pashu pretty much doesn’t refer to gender at all. It helps that there’s not a ton of difference between the male and female form unless they’re mimicking humans,” Xander states offhandedly, like it’s no big deal, and—huh.
Maybe it isn’t to him. He’s always treating them as equals, other than his weird, demonic possessiveness—not that they’re not the same, given how few people they have in their lives. Buffy can’t afford to lose Willow, or Giles, or Xander…they’re the only people she has. The only thing he’s pointed out is that they’re not as durable as he is, but he trusts all of them to fight alongside him, particularly once Willow demonstrated she could hold her own.
He seemed to pick up on the language almost instinctively, though he says his grammar and handwriting sucks. Maybe he’d done the same with Pashran culture.
“…Actually, it’s the word for ‘puppy’, which is sometimes used for ‘child’. It’s kind of slangy, but it…he’s trying to convey affection.” Xander’s taken on a distant, academic tone like none of this even affects him. “There is nothing in my life I regret more than not being there to watch you g-grow up,” he continues, confident voice gone. He’s shaky again.
Buffy traces comforting circles over his shoulderblade and he suddenly remembers to breathe, a huge breath in.
“From what I’ve learned and seen, you’ve grown up to be a fine young person. I wish I could have taken some credit and supported you as you deserved. I’ve been informed about the lover—they don’t exactly have a word for stepfather—who lives with your parent—mom. I make it a point not to hurt humans, but the way he acted toward you both—I wanted to tear that human—he’s talking about Tony, by the way—apart. You have better patience than me. It is touching that on your own you decided to follow in my footsteps and protect people, and reassuring that I have done the virtuous thing. For that, and for what you have decided to do with your life, I am proud of you. But don’t take this wrong—I will always be proud of you, because you are you.”
Xander has to stop, breathing uneven.
“That’s something else that didn’t quite translate?” Willow guesses, and he nods.
“Character is formed from the innate and the action. He’s essentially saying he likes what he’s seen from the innate, so he’s not worried about the action.” She’s really good at this, but then, they’ve been friends for forever. “I would be proud of you no matter what. You have collected Devil Arms diligently, and I have two more to add to that collection—Brahma and Shiva, twin guns. They are loyal companions, and they will be so for you. In case I never get another chance—I love you. Perhaps, if we get the chance to meet, I will explain my absence, and hope for your forgiveness.” He interrupts his reading. “Something bad happened.”
“We already suspected that,” Buffy states affectionately.
“He probably has a good excuse,” Willow agrees, and leans over. “This is a name, isn’t it?” She reads it out slowly. Buffy hadn’t even known that she’d been learning, but this is Willow, so she’s not really surprised. “Kratyakunuro?”
“Volume Fight,” Xander translates absentmindedly, still a little in shock.
A pause. “Volume fight?”
It does appear to be helping ground him a little, so that’s something. “Eh. Like…fights with music. Draws strength from sound. Uses song-spells in combat. That kinda thing.”
“Kra...yemyar?” Willow guesses, and apparently that’s right, too.
“Hunter. Pretty much.” Xander sighs. “And then Syuvai.”
“This is a good thing, right?” the Slayer asks, suddenly feeling a little unsure, because he’s not acting like it is.
“I just…” he runs a hand over his face, looking and sounding overwhelmed, still. “I don’t get to have nice things.”
“He seems like a cool guy. And if he’s not, you’ve still got us,” Buffy responds, and glances at Willow. And then they squish him in a hug.
“You know, you two are getting predictable,” he complains, grinning.
“Are you complaining?” Willow asks. She actually sounds a little bit hurt, like it’s a rejection of her friendship.
“Hell no.” He tries to get his arms out to hug them back. He’s still a little stuck, but it’s a good group hug anyway. And sure, it’s never going to be easy. They’re going to have to finally have that conversation. They’re going to say things that’ll hurt each other, and and with their situation family and socialization are always going to be difficult. Maybe it’s a bit sad and pathetic, but they do have each other, and it’s good to know that’s not going to change.
