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It's hereee! I just read it and it's AMAZING. Enjoy - and remember to review!
- R
“How’s he doing?” Buffy asked, concertedly peering down at her prone friend.

Pan checked a monitor. “He’s stable for the moment,” he informed everyone, “He’s young and strong, that’ll help,” Pan sighed as he dangled from the ceiling, “But unless he’s part lizard, his girlfriend’s going to be opening his ketchup bottles from now on.”

The group had returned to Pan’s home with the injured Xander in tow. After they had cleaned him up, Pan had applied some sort of herbal paste to the ragged stump just below the young man’s shoulder where his arm used to be. Having gained locomotion by entwining his vines up into the ceiling, Pan now scuttled about like a spider, using salvaged hospital equipment to monitor Xander’s vital signs.

“Shapeshifting demons, treacherous gypsies, psychotic cops, animated hunks of stone,” Alec counted off on his fingers, “We are due for a vacation.”

“Hear hear,” Willow put in tiredly, resting against her lover. Both of them were severely drained from the battle they had just concluded; Alec from engaging in combat with the now-late Viisq and Willow from casting the powerful time-altering spell to keep the golem at bay.

“When he wakes up, I’m going to kill him,” Anya swore, “How dare he try to blow himself up without telling me!”

There were a few weary chuckles and tired grins at this comment; no one envied Xander when he regained consciousness.

“So, what ARE we going to do about Xander?” Faith asked, “Between Alec getting his spine fused and now Xander being disarmed, literally, our forces are dwindling.”

“Hey, Alec did a pretty good job fighting Viisq,” Dawn put in irritably. She sported a bandage on her forehead from where the shape-shifting monstrosity had clawed her. It was her most significant combat-related injury to date and everyone had made such a fuss over it Dawn had been ready to scream.

Although the extra attention from Alec was nice. Dawn mused to herself.

“Faith’s got a point,” Alec replied, “Maintaining the kind of power I was using, the kind necessary for any kind of fighting mobility, was incredibly draining,” he caught his father’s eye, “I don’t think I want to make it a habit.”

Giles nodded, “Yes, I imagine that the recent and profound increase in the use of your powers could be detrimental to your health.”

Alec rolled his eyes, “Dad I’ve been pummeled, shot, stabbed, beaten, burnt, and tortured nearly to death since we arrived and I’m still stand-,” a spasm of pain crossed his face, “Still here,” he amended.

Willow grabbed his hand and squeezed gently. “You have nothing to prove to anyone, baby,” she assured him. Alec smiled slightly and squeezed her hand back.

“Well, so what are we going to do then?” Spike insisted, “It’s not like we can go ‘Poof!’ and the blighter there can get a new arm.”

“Yes!” Willow cried out, leaping to her feet and drawing stares from everyone, “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

“Umm…Wills?” Buffy asked hesitantly, “Share?”

“There’s a spell I started doing some research about online when Alec got hurt,” Willow explained, “From what I read, it can’t do anything for his spine. But, it could definitely help with Xander’s arm.”

“And this would be?” Giles queried.

“A necrotic graft.”

Giles took off his glasses and pinched the skin at the bridge of his nose before continuing, “Willow a necrotic graft is a very tricky incantation. The possibilities for not only spectacular failures but also disastrous side-effects are significant.”

“I know, but I can handle it, I know I can! All I need is some needle and thread and, of course, the arm to be used.”

“ ‘Necrotic graft’,” Alec frowned, “Wait a minute, you’re going to graft a dead person’s arm to Xander?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds; once the spell takes hold the arm is transformed from a dead limb into a living one, fully-functional,” Willow assured him. Then her expression fell, “There’s just one catch.”

“There always is.”

“The arm needs to be as fresh as possible, the longer it’s been dead, the greater the chance the body will reject the graft,” she explained, “Ideally we would have a living arm to graft but there’s a problem with that.”

“No one’s in a hurry to donate an arm?” Angel asked.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“That’d be a hard sell,” Alec mused.

“Yeah I can see why that’d be a problem,” Buffy sighed.

“Well, if were going to do this,” Alec said, “We better get a move on: Xander’s not getting any younger. I vote we hit the city morgue for a fresh cadaver.” He turned to the red-haired witch, “How long to prep the spell?”

“A few hours. Good news is that it doesn’t take much in the way of ingredients. Try not to mangle the arm getting it off, the less destroyed tissue the spell has to knit together, the better,” she added.

“Got it,” he assured her.

“Uh…question, mate? How do you plan on getting about?” Spike asked, “You just got done saying that moving about like that drains your batteries.”

“If it was combat, yeah it’d be a problem,” Alec replied, “But since I just plan on going from point A to point B, I should be able to get there with less strain.”

“Well then, I’ll go with you,” Buffy put in and moved towards her brother.

“Yeah, me too,” Spike added.

Alec shook his head. “I think one person has a better chance of sneaking about the city morgue than half a dozen. Besides you guys need to stay here in case DeGanon shows up here with friends,” he smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about me, I’m a survivor.”

“Alec, the last time you said something along those lines, you were shot, kidnapped and tortured,” Buffy replied darkly, “You’ll forgive me if I keep my skeptical face firmly in place.”

He laughed and kissed his sister on the forehead as he conjured a pair of darkness tendrils to hoist him up into a sitting position. Wrapping them around his legs, he locked them in place before extending them up and around his wrists. Pumping his arms, he made his feet take lurching, shuffling steps. He looked like nothing so much as a broken marionette.

“Oh, that’s just looks wrong,” Pan commented.

With a jaunty wave, Alec made his way up the stairs and out of Pan’s basement lair.




Willow explored the rest of Pan’s subterranean home, trying to find a good place to cast the spell. Leaves and vines of ivy covered coated pipes and cement. It resembled what a utility shed would look like if the jungle had some alive and reclaimed it after years of disuse. The tunnels were tight with low ceilings and narrow corridors, though for some reason it didn’t feel claustrophobic.

She turned a corner and there was Tara.

Willow stopped dead, nearly skidding into the other girl: Tara’s hair had gone from blonde to dead black, her blue-green eyes now the color of sewage. A network of black veins traced their way under blue skin, like a map.

Tara cocked her head with a sickening crack; her entire body writhed like it was out of synch with everything else, twitching and spasming. Her frame was wracked and joints and bones contorted unnaturally, even as the girl stared at her former lover.

.”You don’t look happy to see me,” Tara said in a gurgling voice, pulling back split lips to reveal pointed yellow teeth.

“You’re not real,” Willow breathed.

“LIAR!” Tara cried out and slashed a yellow claw across Willow’s cheek. Willow cried out and fell to the ground. The witch had no time to gain her bearings as the thing that had once been Tara grabbed her by the throat and hoisted her into the air slamming her hard up against the ceiling of the tunnel, pinning her there. Willow choked and gagged even as Tara brought her disfigured face close to hers.

“Did you think you could just wish me away again?” Tara hissed, her neck snapping back and forth like a snake, the sounds of bones cracking filled Willow’s ears.

“I’m….I’m sorry….” Willow choked out, her eyes squeezed tight in front.

“You’re sorry?!?” Tara said incredulously. She grabbed Willow’s face with her free hand and peeled her eyelids back with jagged nails.

“Look at me!!!” Tara screamed.

Willow gasped and opened her eyes.

“You died, Willow, you crossed over,” Tara hissed, “But you brought a piece of it back with you, a piece of that dark place,” she squeezed Willow’s throat harder, “And it wants you back,” Tara dug a claw into Willow’s brow causing a small rivulet of blood to dribble down, “You were out of my reach before, Willow. I couldn’t touch you,” Tara’s mouth split into an obscene shark-like grin, “I can touch you now.”

“What…what do you want?” Willow gasped out.

“What do I want?” Tara screeched incredulously, “I want what you took from me, Willow.”

“I’m sorr-“

“Yeah, I know you’re sorry,” Tara mocked, “We’re all sorry,” she brought Willow’s face closer to her own, “Now kiss me.”

Tara pressed her cold mouth against Willow’s. The young girl gagged as the taste of death and rot filled her mouth, needle-like teeth pierced at her lips, tore into her tongue. Willow’s mouth filled with blood.

“Willow?”

Willow caught her breath and looked around wildly. Faith was standing behind her with a concerned expression on her face.

“Yo Red, you all right?”

Willow’s eyes darted around the small chamber. There was no one there.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay,” Willow replied.

“Well, the others were getting worried about you, so they asked me to check up on you. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m on my way back.”

Faith nodded and turned away, heading back and out of the chamber.

Willow brought her fingers to her lips and winced slightly. She drew back bloody fingers and looked around once more.

“Tara…”

There was no answer but the dark.




Alec made his way down the street. It had rained recently and everything had a wet slick sheen to the city street. He managed to navigate his way down the crowded streets and sidewalks with some dexterity, his hobbled gait having smoothed out to something akin to a severe limp. A cane of conjured darkness completed the look.

Not bad for a cripple he thought to himself.

“So, who can I go to for an arm?” Alec said to himself, chuckling. He stopped suddenly then.

He knew exactly where to go.

With a tight grin, Alec took a left and descended down some stairs into the subway.





DeGanon sighed wearily as he wedged the last door gate into place and locked it, securing the domain. He was tried, desperately so. The encounter with the Slayer and her friends had not gone as planned and their run-in with the Dark General had left him and two others nursing serious injuries.

The gypsy chieftain rested his back against the grate and peered about. It would be a safe bet that they would be coming back looking for vengeance for his so-called ‘treachery’. Explaining the bonds of father and son and Romany law amongst the tribe would not avail him. They would be back, and they would be looking for blood.

It was then the halogen lights, mounted on the walls, started to go out. One after another they flared briefly then winked out of existence. Like a rolling tide of darkness, the room turned to pitch black in the span of a few heartbeats. For a few minutes, the only sound was DeGanon’s anxious breath as he was robbed of his sight. The dark was thick and oppressive, like a living thing.

“DeGanon,” a voice called out, deep and cold like from the bottom of a stone well,” the old gypsy froze, it was him.

Blindly, DeGanon stumbled away and fled down one of the other corridors, feeling around with his hands to compensate for his lack of sight. The tunnels twisted and turned this way and that until he was completely lost. Looking about wildly in the dark, DeGanon couldn’t see anything and his terror was extreme.

Finally fatigue, brought on by age and the draining effect of prolonged fear, caused him to slow. He exhaled hard, leaned against a wall and worked on making himself still. He held himself tightly to bring the shaking under control and fumbled inside his jacket for a flare. He yanked the top off and struck it against the wall, it flashed into life and the entire area was bathed in yellow-green light.

Revealing Alec, his eyes pools of black darkness, standing no more than a foot away from him.

“You have something I need,” he said simply.

DeGanon screamed and attempted to throw the flare at Alec. Instead the younger man grabbed his arm and bent it back, pinning it. He snatched the flare from the gypsy and placed it into a crevasse in the wall then viciously backhanded the other man sending him sprawling to the stinking ground. DeGanon tried to scramble away, even as tendrils of darkness wrapped his arms up and dragged him back to Alec.

”You didn’t really think that you were going to get away with betraying us all like that did you? You owe, and I’ve come to collect,” Alec seethed.

“You’re crazy,” DeGanon gasped out.

“I’m not. No, no I’m not,” Alec said with force, gesturing with a finger, almost as if he were working to convince both himself and the other man, “You know the old saying DeGanon; ‘What doesn’t kill you…’.” Taking the other man’s arm and bending it back further. DeGanon cried out in pain and fear.

“What do you want?” the gypsy cried out.

“I’m here to collect a boon owed. One of our friends was hurt putting down your son and so you are going to help make him better.”

“How…how am I going to do that?”

“You’re going to let me saw off your arm, DeGanon, and you’re going to give me your blessings while I do it.”

“What?!”

Alec hoisted up his shirt revealing the still-healing wounds Viisq had given him.

“Do you see these wounds DeGanon? Do you want to know how I got them? Your son, beating me, tearing at me, torturing me for hours upon hours. Breaking my bones, cutting into my flesh, hoping that I would break. He failed ultimately. I was rescued by a very noble woman…who he then promptly had murdered,” Alec leaned in close to the other man, “And I’ve come to collect for all those harmed by you and your offspring.”

“What are you going to do to me?” DeGanon asked, his face going pale.

“I’m going to harvest you for spare parts, and in the future, if we need you to ‘lend a hand’ so to speak, you won’t hesitate to do so,” Alec narrowed his darkness filled eyes at him, “Because if you utter so much as a single word of protest, I will come back down here into the dark, and I will find your people: the men, the women, and the children, and I will paint these walls with their blood.”

“Our master’s power protects us!” the other man cried out.

“Nothing can protect you from me right now. I must do what needs to be done. And what needs to be done right now is I need to chop off your arm,” Alec said simply. And then he gave the other man a tight, grim smile. He was enjoying himself and DeGanon was chilled to the bone.

“Very well then, Dark General, I will make this sacrifice for my people and the protection of my tribe,” he said as he held out his arm.

“Wise decision,” the younger man replied as a serrated blade emerged from his hand.

“You know, it’s funny. I actually learned something from your son while he was torturing me back at that police station,” Alec spoke casually as he slid the blade into DeGanon’s flesh and began to saw through the meat around the bone, just below the shoulder. DeGanon bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed in order to keep from crying out as blood oozed thick and red down his arm to splatter onto the ground below.

“The secret to defeating your opponent, truly crushing your foe, isn’t in magic swords or powerful spells,” he continued as he finished sawing through the meat of the gypsy’s arm, revealing bone, “It’s in the ability to discern a person’s weak point and knowing just how to strike,” Alec brought the blade up and then down in a single chop. The blade sheared through bone and DeGanon screamed long and loud as Alec gripped the arm and yanked hard, tearing free any stray connective tissue.

“One fresh arm. This should do nicely,” Alec said with a smile, peering at it in the green light. He gestured to DeGanon who was slumped against the wall, blood pouring from the stump at his side, “You’re going to want to get a tourniquet on that,” he informed him casually.

“You…have what you want?” DeGanon gasped, “My tribe is safe?”

“For the moment,” Alec replied, “But don’t you ever mess with my family again or the next body part I take from you, you don’t get to survive without.”

DeGanon simply nodded, half-delirious with pain as Alec stepped towards the shadows.

“Be seeing you,” and with that the young man stepped into the gloom and vanished, leaving the grievously wounded gypsy behind.



“And that…should do it,” Willow breathed as she finished the last stitch in Xander’s shoulder, “Twelve years of cross-stitch and I wind up sewing body parts together.

“Feels weird,” Xander commented as he rubbed at his shoulder with his other hand.

“You have a dead man’s arm sewed to you, mate,” Spike commented, “‘Weird’s’ a bloody understatement.”

“It’ll take a little while to adjust to you, things like hand-eye coordination and motor skills are going to be impaired,” Willow explained, “and try not to fiddle with it.”

Xander smiled up at his friend, “Wills, this is great, I can’t believe you found me a freakin’ arm!” he exclaimed astonished.

“Neither can I,” Angel said quietly. He was staring intently at Alec, who had been very quiet since returning with the grisly trophy an hour or so ago.

Xander looked incredulously at Alec, “Where’d you find it anyway?”

“Car accident victim a few blocks away. Mangled and bloody and all, but the arm was still pink and fresh. A quick slice-and-dice and POOF: one arm,” Alec explained.

“My man rocks,” Willow said with a grin.

“And you’re certain the donor of this arm was dead?” Angel asked dubiously.

“As a doornail.”

Angel said nothing as he stood and stalked out of the room. There were a few looks exchanged at his departure.

“Well, you’ve been granted the gift of limbs, mate,” Spike commented as he lit up a cigarette, “You’re going to be hard-up to top that come Christmas.”

Xander scoffed as he flexed his new fingers, “Yeah, no kidding,” He looked up at Alec, “Thanks, man

Alec shrugged. “No worries.”

“Well, however you did it, you did it and we’re all grateful,” Buffy put in.

“Yes, well done, son,” Giles spoke up.

“I didn’t reinvent the wheel,” Alec replied modestly, “I’m not the hero of the day here,” Alec squeezed Xander’s shoulder, “That would be this guy. It was his plan, after all that saved us against the golem.”

“Oh yes, that reminds me,” Anya spoke up suddenly.

SMACK!!

“IF YOU EVER DO ANYTHING AS STUPID AND SUICIDAL AS THAT AGAIN, I WILL MAKE YOUR SUFFERING LEGENDARY EVEN IN HELL!!!””

Everyone stared agog at the couple as Xander clamored up to his feet, still reeling from the blow Anya had dealt him.

“You could have died, you stupid, stupid man! I hate you!” she cried, tears in her eyes as she beat at Xander’s chest with her fists before collapsing into sobs.

Xander gingerly wrapped his new arm around her. “Hey, it’s all right Ahn,” Xander gestured, “My man Alec over there had my back.”

Anya turned to stare at Alec with red, tear-stained eyes.

“You…you saved him?” she whispered in shock.

“Yeah, I shadow-stepped, brought Xander along for the ride,” he sent Xander a wry grin, “Sorry I ruined your big ‘heroic sacrificial moment’”

Xander chuckled, “I think I’ll cope.”

For a moment, Anya looked completely miserable, in a bizarre, almost torn fashion, then she turned her attentions back to being held by Xander. Alec took the opportunity to exit out of the room and head up to get some air.




“You fooled the others, but I know fresh blood when I smell it: that arm came from the living,” a voice called out as Alec stepped out onto the street.

Alec turned to confront Angel, who was leaning against a lamppost glowering fiercely.

“Question is: who’d you take it from?”

“No one that didn’t really deserve it,” Alec said with a cruel sneer.

“Playing god now are we?”

“Someone has to be willing to do what needs to be done or did you perhaps have some kind of solution the rest of us were unaware of?”

Angel growled and took a step forward.

Alec grinned. “Careful mate, you sure you really want to get physical with me? Didn’t work out so well for you last time.”

“Things change,” Angel replied.

“Some things, not everything.”

“So tonight you’re chopping off arms and harvesting body parts, what’s it going to be tomorrow, Alec?”

.Alec shrugged. “I really don’t know, I guess we’ll see. You going to tell the others?”

Angel scoffed. “What good would that do? Half of them would support what you did, the other half would condemn and we’d be back at each other’s throats. No, I’ll keep it to myself and just keep an eye on you.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.”

Alec cleared his throat. “Any information from your contacts regarding the Order of Teraka?” he asked, changing the subject.

Angel shook his head. “My contacts, the people who let me know the bounty was lifted off of Buffy’s head a few years ago, haven’t been returning my phone calls. It’s likely they’ve been taken out of the game.”

“You know what we really should be doing?” Alec pondered.

“What?”

“Take the fight to them. Figure out where the order operates out of and hit them hard there.”

“That would be Mexico City, and would probably be a very unpleasant way to commit suicide,” the vampire replied.

“Better than sitting around, letting them send hunters to take potshots at us one after another,” Alec retorted.

Angel leveled a finger at the younger man, “You’re dangerous, Alec. You’re reckless and you’ve inherited your father’s brutality back in his ‘Ripper’ days. You’re taking the first steps down a path that once you go down it, there’s no coming back.”

Alec smirked. “How very droll, I shall endeavor not to ‘succumb to the dark side’ as it were, but I refuse to hesitate due to moral hang-ups. My sister does; it’s one of her glaring flaws.”

“You’re wrong; it’s one of her greatest strengths. She’s got a conscience and cares about right and wrong and in the end it’s why she’ll always be better than you,” Angel retorted.

“We’ll see. In the meantime, continue to remain useful to the group and stay out of my way and we should get along cheerily. I imagine that you’ll be so busy mooning over my sister, munching on your angst-burger, you’ll be too distracted to be much of a nuisance to me anyhow.” Alec scoffed.

“We’ll see.”

With a mock bow, Alec limped off into the dark.

“What the hell was THAT all about?” A voice from behind Angel called out.

Angel turned to address Faith, who was coming up out of Pan’s lair and out of the stairwell, onto the street.

“Remember what happened to you?”

“Uh…you mean turning all evil? Yeah.”

Angel brooded as he focused on the point of Alec’s departure. “This could be worse.”

“Oh fantastic.” Faith laid an arm on Angel’s shoulder, “However it goes down, I got your back, don’t forget that, all right?”

Angel smiled slightly and placed his hand over hers, giving it a squeeze.

“Thanks Faith.”

“Five by Five.”





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