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Part 2
Xander reached the top of the scaffolding at the construction site by the time Willow reached her car. He watched her car drive off from his perch and was slowly getting the turmoil in his mind under control. He looked at the silent black bird and asked, “Is that why I’m back? So I can be tortured a little while longer?” The crow just looked at him with its yellow eyes. “Oh, no. My life’s not complicated. I just come back from the dead and the spirit guide that brings me back is a mute!”
Xander looked at the bird a while longer and decided he was not going to win this staring contest. “I need answers, bird. If you’re not going to talk to me, can you find someone who will?” With that the bird squawked and took flight. Xander watched the crow for a moment and then he ran to the end of the scaffolding and leapt off as if he could take flight himself.
Rupert Giles stood in front of the stove in his kitchen waiting for the water in the kettle to boil. Buffy had shown him how to make his tea in the microwave, but that just was not civilized. A good cup of tea required hot, boiling water and time to steep. You just cannot rush it.
For about the hundredth time that day Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache was coming back. He was glad to be the curator of the museum at UC Sunnydale, but meetings with staff and supporters were so trying and they lasted all day long. And he still had to meet with Buffy to plan her patrol. He looked out the window at the rain. “Hmm. Rain. I don’t remember that being in the weather forecast today.”
He felt the breeze blow through his house and heard wings flapping. He looked out into living room and saw that his front door was open. “Odd,” he said aloud to himself. He walked across the room to the door, closed it and bolted it, thinking to himself that he had already done that once. He turned back to go to the kitchen and there in the middle of his living room stood Xander, dressed in black, dripping rainwater on the floor with a crow perched on his shoulder. “Holy Mary, Mother of God,” Giles muttered, shocked, as he stepped back up against the door and reached for the crucifix on the wall.
“Never took you for the religious type, G-man,” Xander said with a smile that did not go all the way to his eyes. The kettle on the stove began to whistle and Xander walked into the kitchen. Giles followed tentatively and watched as Xander turned off the burner under the kettle. “Your water’s hot, Giles.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Giles was not sure if he should go past the threshold of his kitchen where this creature that looked like Xander waited for him, or if he should run for his life.
“You can put down the cross, Giles. I’m not a vampire.”
“But you’re dead.” After all these years on the Hellmouth, Giles never expected to be having a conversation with the ghost of a friend.
“Yeah, so I’ve been told.” Xander picked up the tea tin sitting on the counter. “Listen. Do you want me to make this tea, because if we keep standing here like this the water will get cold and then you’ll have to start over again.”
“Yes. Quite right.” Giles decided to take the chance that he was not dealing with a demon and stepped into the kitchen, laying the crucifix on the table as he moved toward the stove. Xander stepped out of his way and watched the ex-librarian prepare his tea. When he had his tea properly steeped, Giles took a sip to fortify his courage and turned to face Xander. “If you aren’t a vampire, and you look much too solid to be a ghost, then what are you?”
“I wish I knew. Maybe blackie here will tell you,” Xander said, nodding to the crow on his shoulder. The black bird looked at Giles down its beak as if it knew everything and it was not going to tell anything. “Yeah, I thought so. He gives me the silent treatment, too.”
“Why did you come to me Xander? What can I do for you?” Giles asked.
“I need answers and I don’t think I would be welcome in the better research libraries the way I am now,” Xander said trying to make a joke that he did not feel like laughing at. “I know I am here for one reason, revenge. I have to find the one who did this to me,” Xander said as he traced the scars on his face with a finger, “and to avenge Anya. You were always the one with the answers Giles.”
“Yes, well, not always the right ones,” Giles said self-consciously. He pinched the bridge of his nose again. This headache was only getting worse, he thought. “Go ahead and ask, Xander, I’ll tell you what I can.”
“Okay. Who killed me?
Giles looked at his two visitors before beginning. Both stared at him impassively, waiting. “He calls himself Thanatos. Quite ironic a vampire calling himself death wish,” Giles said. Xander looked back at him with a cold, blank face. “Anyway,” Giles continued, “we took his so called declaration of war seriously. None of us allows ourselves to be caught outside alone after dark. Buffy started taking fewer classes at the university and stepped up her patrolling. So far, the situation has been a stalemate. This Thanatos does not seem to be the usual power hungry demon that we became accustomed to. He hasn’t allowed a thirst for power to overcome his reason and make mistakes. He seems to be somewhat of an organizer, too. He has instilled a discipline among a part of the vampire community here that I’ve yet to find a recorded instance of in the diaries. The rest of the vampires fear him and stay out of his way. He never turns more vampires than he needs to keep his numbers constant and he never hunts the same areas, at least not in a pattern I can ascertain. Buffy has countered every one of his moves, but she can’t make any headway against him. The vampires will hit and run, but they do not stand foolishly and fight the way they used to. If he was not a vampire, I’d say this Thanatos was a very canny guerilla leader.”
Xander watched Giles and listened, never moving, never blinking. He just absorbed what he heard. Finally, he asked another question. “Where can I find him?”
Clutching his mug of tea, Giles took in a long breath and leaned back against the stove, careful not to touch the still hot burner. He was not sure how his audience would take the next words he had to say. “I don’t know.”
“Dammit!” Xander exclaimed, turning away from Giles in an effort to control his rage. His outburst and sudden movement startled the bird on his shoulder. The crow flapped off and settled on the kitchen table with a disgruntled squawk.
Giles quickly continued. “That is one of the reasons why the situation is stalemated. He has kept his promise about bringing the fight to the Slayer and not allowing her to go after him. We have never found his lair.”
Xander hung his head and let his anger cool down. “It’s not Giles’s fault,” he thought to himself. Giles watched him silently, waiting, listening to the rain fall outside. After several minutes that seemed like eons, Xander spoke. “How long have I been gone?”
“One year, Xander,” Giles replied quietly, almost a whisper. “One year.”
Xander turned his head to look at Giles over his shoulder. His brow was furrowed from confusion and concern. He looked at Giles and saw the changes. His friend was grayer now and there were more lines on his face. “One year? I’ve been gone for one year?” he said forlornly. “Well, if the world is still here I guess I wasn’t that important to the whole game after all. One more vanity out the window. Not that I had that many left anyway.”
For the first time Giles saw the young man he had watched grow up. “I know this is not a consolation to you, but Buffy became a better slayer after your death. She became harder, more efficient. But the laughter went out of all of our lives after you were gone Xander. Buffy and Willow rarely smile anymore. We had to accept the grimness around us. You have been missed.”
Xander felt the anger beginning to build inside him again. It was either feed on the anger or let the sorrow consume him. He turned to face Giles. In a calm voice that was in contrast with the emotions he felt, he spoke to Giles. “All right. Now I have some clue why I’m here. I have to set things right. But Giles, what am I?”
Giles contemplated his answer and then said, “Again, I don’t know Xander. I have some clues, but I will have to consult some of my books to know for sure.”
“FINE!” Xander replied heatedly with an anger that was boiling to the surface. “Consult your books! I have work to do.” Giles started to retort in his defense but Xander raised his hand to shut him up. He needed a release for his anger and he knew just how to do it. His whole being screamed for more vengeance. He looked at the crow on the kitchen table and for the first time he felt a real communication pass between the bird and himself. The crow knew what he had to do.
Xander pointed to the door that led to the outside from the kitchen.
“You mind if we use your back door?” he asked. Giles merely nodded.
With that Xander opened the door and the black bird flew out ahead of him.
Xander looked at Giles with a sinister grin beginning to spread his lips
and then followed an instant later. Giles stepped to the door and
looked nervously out on the landing. He could not find any trace
of Xander, as if the young man had simply dissolved into the rain.
Contemplating whether he should tell Buffy and Willow about this visit,
Giles walked back to his study to find an answer among his library.