The Devil Went Down To Sunnydale X (Patreon)

Chapter X: Hunter & Hunted II



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Hanging out in the library has had one positive effect on Buffy, Willow thought, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the gravity of the situation. It had taught her how to do research, when it needed to be done. Like now. Willow loved research, the thrill of diving into musty old tomes and unearthing ancient knowledge. But getting Buffy together with a book was sometimes a challenge, and other times was not even in the realm of possibility, the Slayer preferring action to academia.

Buffy sat on the steps leading up to the stacks, a huge folio across her lap, her brow furrowed in concentration as she scanned the pages. Willow sat at a table, reading one of her own, the heavy leather-bound volume open before her. At any other time, she would have been enjoying this a great deal more, relishing the opportunity to lose herself in the world of words. But not right now...

She raised her head as the dark-haired boy in front of her let out a slight groan, his face contorting in discomfort. Willow's expression fell as she caught sight of Xander's body laid out on the table directly across from her, a cold towel on his forehead, his skin pale and clammy. He looked so vulnerable, so unlike the lively, goofy Xander she knew and loved.

The door had been locked as school had been let out a long time ago, the three of them hoping Xander would awaken, that whatever strange sickness had taken hold of him would release its grip. Unfortunately, no such luck. He remained unconscious, trapped in whatever fever dream had claimed him.

"Wow," Buffy said, her voice cutting through the silence and catching Willow's attention for a moment. "Apparently Noah rejected hyenas from the Ark because he thought they were an evil, impure mixture of dogs and cats." 

"Hyenas aren't well-liked," Willow agreed, nodding sagely. "They've got a pretty bad rap, historically speaking."

"They do seem to be the shmoes of the animal kingdom," Buffy said, bringing the book down to show Willow a picture, a detailed etching of a snarling hyena, its teeth bared in a ferocious grin.

Willow shuddered, the image a little too close to home given Xander's current state. "Why couldn't Xander be possessed by a puppy?" she asked, her voice wistful. "Or some ducks? Ducks are nice. They don't hurt anyone."

"That's assuming 'possession' is the right word," Buffy said, her tone skeptical as she closed the book with a thump.

"Oh, I'd say it is," Giles offered, emerging from another part of the library, yet another book in his hands, his finger marking his place. "The Masai of the Serengeti have spoken of animal possession for generations. I should have remembered that." He added, looking chagrined, as if he had failed some personal test of knowledge as a Watcher.

"So how does it work?" Buffy asked, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees as she looked up at Giles expectantly.

"Well," he explained, his voice taking on that familiar lecturing tone, "apparently there's a sect of animal worshippers, known as Primals. They believe that humanity — consciousness, the soul — is a perversion, a dilution of spirit. To them, the animal state is holy. They're able, through transpossession, to draw the spirit of certain animals into themselves."

"And then they start acting like hyenas," Buffy said, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Only the most predatory animals were of interest to Primals," Giles said, nodding. "So yes, that would fit."

"How do you explain Xander then?" Willow asked, her voice tight with worry as she glanced back at her friend's prone form. "He's still unconscious, Giles, and he's sweating so much. It's like he's burning up from the inside." She wrung her hands, the action a physical manifestation of her anxiety.

"We know this is a case of transposition as Xander was with the other students who are displaying classic and expected traits," Giles began, flipping through the book in his hands as he paced back and forth, his footsteps echoing in the quiet library. "I just don't know why Xander is reacting this way. It's almost as if... as if something in him is fighting the possession… which is a small mercy.”

"Giles, how do we stop this?" Buffy asked, her voice urgent, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "How do you transpossess someone?" Buffy, as usual, was looking for solutions while everyone else was still focused on the problem. 

Giles removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sighed. "I'm afraid I still don't have all the pieces," he replied, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Accounts of the Primals and their methods are a bit thin on the ground. There is some talk of a predatory act, but the exact ritual is …" He shook his head, and picked up one of his massive books, the leather cover worn and cracked with age. He flipped to a certain page, his finger skimming down the text as he continued. "The 'Malleus Maleficarum' deals with the particulars of demonic possession, which may apply."

He put the book down on the table, flipping a few more pages, the sound of rustling paper filling the quiet library. "Yes, one should be able to transfer the spirits to another human —"

"Oh, thanks, great," Buffy interrupted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Any volunteers? 'Cause I've already got my hands full with one possessed friend, don't really need another."

"Oh," Giles said, his voice small as he realized the implication of his words. "Good point."

Buffy went on, her mind racing. "What we need to do is put the hyena back in the hyena. Reverse the whole transpossession thing, right?"

"But, until we know more —" Giles began, his tone cautious.

Buffy was onto something, an idea, and Willow got a little thrill from watching her chase it down, like a dog on a scent trail. "Betcha that zookeeper can help us," the Slayer said, her eyes lighting up with realization. "Maybe he didn't quarantine those hyenas 'cause they were sick."

Giles seemed to catch on, his expression shifting from confusion to understanding. "We should talk to him," he agreed, already moving towards the door.

Propelled by her own enthusiasm, Buffy started for the door as well, then stopped again, her hand on the handle. "Oh, wait," she said, turning back to look at Willow. "Somebody's gotta watch Xander. We can't just leave him here all alone, not in his condition."

Willow stood, her jaw set with determination. "I will," she said, her voice firm despite the worry in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" Buffy asked, concern etched on her features. "If he wakes up —"

"I'll be all right. Go." Willow's voice was steady.

"Come on," Buffy said to Giles, jerking her head towards the door. They left, the sound of their footsteps fading as they hurried down the hall, leaving Willow alone again in the dark library.

Except for Xander, of course, still out cold on the table, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Willow sighed, settling herself into a chair beside him. “I hope you’re gonna be alright, Xander.”



– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –


Xander woke with a start, his eyes snapping open to a landscape that defied all logic, a twisted kaleidoscope of familiar and foreign, comforting and terrifying. One moment he was in the dingy, familiar surroundings of Sunnydale's library, the musty scent of old books and the soft glow of lamplight enveloping him like a warm blanket. The next, he found himself lying on a patch of earth that seemed borrowed from an African plain, the tall grass tickling his skin and the distant howls of unseen beasts echoing in his ears.

The sky above was split in two—a dark, unnaturally purplish fog dominated one half, swirling and pulsating like a living thing, under a massive, alien moon that pulsated with an eerie glow, casting an otherworldly sheen over the landscape. The other half was a more typical night sky, star-studded but with a darkness that felt thick and oppressive, like a blanket smothering all hope.

"What the hell is happening?" Xander whispered, his heart pounding as he sat up, his voice sounding small and distant to his own ears, as if he were speaking from the bottom of a well. The grass around him was tall and wild, waving gently in a non-existent breeze, encroaching upon the small patches of suburban pavement that he could see morphing before his eyes, shifting and twisting like a living thing. Lamp posts twisted and elongated into wild trees, their metal frames groaning and creaking as they stretched towards the sky, then snapped back to their original forms, the transformation oscillating with each blink of his eyes, each breath he took.

As he stood, the ground beneath his feet felt unstable, as if the earth itself couldn't decide whether it was a well-trodden path or a wild, untamed plain, the concrete cracking and heaving under his weight. Xander stumbled forward, each step uncertain in the shifting terrain, his balance thrown off by the constant changes. The familiar streets of Sunnydale seemed to fight back against the encroaching wilderness, creating a surreal battlefield that disoriented him further, buildings melting and reforming like wax under a flame.

He felt exposed and vulnerable, stripped of a large chunk of the strength he had grown used to, yet strangely, the sickness that had knocked him on his ass seemed to have vanished, replaced by a sense of disconnect, as if he were floating above his own body. Instead, a different type of weakness gripped him, one that made his limbs feel heavy and his head light, as if he were moving through water, each step an effort.

"Is this a dream?" He couldn't be sure, his words slurring slightly as he spoke, his tongue feeling thick and clumsy in his mouth. He turned in a slow circle, taking in the bizarre, dual-natured environment, his eyes wide and unblinking. The sense of being watched was palpable, a prickling on the back of his neck that made him shiver despite the absence of cold, as if unseen eyes were boring into his soul.

The streets were utterly deserted, yet the feeling of eyes on him persisted, intensifying with each step he took, each ragged breath that tore from his lungs. He walked for what felt like hours but could have been minutes or possibly just seconds. Shadows seemed to flicker at the edge of his vision, darting away whenever he tried to focus on them, taunting him with their elusiveness.

He called out, his voice sounding small and hollow in the vast, mixed landscape, echoing back to him in distorted whispers. "Hello? Is anyone there? Buffy? Willow? Giles? Anyone?" But only silence answered, the kind of silence that pressed in on the ears and made one's own breaths sound like thunder.

As he continued to walk, the boundaries between Sunnydale and the alien plain blurred further, the two worlds bleeding into each other like watercolors on a canvas. The pavement cracked and heaved, giving way to dirt and grass, then solidified back into concrete in an endless, disorienting cycle, as if he were walking on the surface of a shattered mirror. Streetlights flickered erratically, their glow battling against the darkness that the starfilled side of the sky cast over the world, casting twisted shadows that seemed to writhe with a life of their own.

Xander's confusion deepened, a sense of unreality wrapping around him like a thick fog, clouding his thoughts and dulling his senses. This can't be real. It can't be. But... His thoughts tumbled over each other, each more frantic than the last, his mind struggling to make sense of the impossible landscape that surrounded him, of the growing sense of wrongness.

A sharp noise cut through the silence—a rustling to his left, like the sound of dry leaves being crushed underfoot. He turned, heart racing, to see a shadow dart between what looked like a hybrid of a streetlamp and a baobab tree, its form indistinct and ever-shifting, before darting down an alley that seemed to appear out of nowhere. His breath caught in his throat as he realized whatever was watching him wasn't just a product of his imagination.

"What the hell are you?!" Xander yelled at the creature, voice cracking as his brave facade fell away. "What do you want from me?!"

The air around him thickened, growing oppressively hot as though the very atmosphere tightened like a noose around his neck, the sweat that beaded on his skin evaporating almost instantly in the unnatural heat. Each step he took was muffled by the hard, spiky tall grass sprouting up through the cracks in the concrete, the blades seeming to reach out and grasp at his ankles like gnarled fingers.

The alleyway itself was a labyrinth, walls leaning in close like the jaws of some great beast, ready to snap shut at any moment. They twisted and turned in ways that barely made sense at times, the path in front of him splitting and rejoining like the threads of some mad weaver's loom, each fork in the road leading to a new nightmare.

"Hey, come back!" Xander's voice was ragged and rough, exhausted from running, the words tearing at his throat like shards of glass. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, a drum of war driving him forward, the rhythm seeming to sync with the pulsing of the alien moon above. Actually... "Do I hear drums?" He shook his head as the laughter ahead echoed back to him, clear and manic, bouncing off the pulsating walls like a twisted game of telephone, each iteration more distorted than the last.

What should have been meters felt like miles; corners he had passed seemed to reappear, disorienting him further, as if he were running in circles in some impossible Escher painting come to life. The heat was unrelenting, the air so thick he could almost see it swirling around him, a visible haze that clung to his skin and filled his lungs with every desperate breath, each inhale feeling like he was drowning on dry land.

The laughter ahead of him grew louder, more unhinged, as if the source of the sound was as much a prisoner of this place as he was, trapped in some endless cycle of madness. "Who are you?!" Xander yelled into the void, his voice breaking against the oppressive air like a wave against a cliff, the question seeming to hang in the space between the walls, unanswered except for his own echoing voice and the sound of laughter that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Xander felt a scream building in his throat, a primal roar of frustration and terror that threatened to tear itself free from his very soul. "Who the fuck are you?!" he shouted, anger and fear bleeding into his tone like ink in water, his words seeming to warp and twist in the thick air. The alley responded with a brief silence that was soon filled by that same raspy, mocking laughter, louder now, closer, as if the unseen tormentor was right behind him, breathing down his neck with fetid breath.

"What do you want from me?!" Xander screamed, his voice raw and desperate.

As the creature's laughter echoed down the alleyway, transforming from a distant, disconcerting giggle to a maniacal cackle that filled the air with dread, Xander's pulse quickened, his heart pounding against his ribcage. The heavy thud behind him spun him around, the world tilting on its axis as he moved, and he was instantly hit with a wave of nausea as the stench of rotting meat assaulted his senses, the putrid odor almost stuck in his throat. The figure laughed again, the sound crackling like dry firewood in a bonfire.

"This isn't fucking funny!" Xander yelled, his voice cracking as the figure dove back into the shadows, the darkness swallowing it whole like a hungry beast. The laughter ceased momentarily, the silence that followed almost more unnerving than the sound itself, only to return in full force with a sharper, more sinister edge.

"Oh, it's not?" The voice rasped, a manic glee in every syllable that made Xander feel like the thing was holding back laughter, like it was privy to some cosmic joke that he wasn't in on. "It feels like it to me. But then again, I've always had a twisted sense of humor."

From the deeper darkness of the alley, the figure shuffled forward, the shadows seeming to cling to it like a second skin. It moved awkwardly, an awkward shuffle that screamed a lack of experience with bipedal movement, as if it were more accustomed to running on all fours. As it came into the dim light, Xander's eyes adjusted and his breath froze.

The being before him was lean but wiry, its body covered in patchy dark fur that seemed to writhe under the dim light, as if it were alive and crawling with unseen insects. Patches of pale, almost sickly skin peeked out from under the fur, giving it an even more unsettling appearance, like a patchwork quilt of flesh and hair. The face was a horrific mimicry of humanity, elongated and warped, with a short, dark muzzle that twitched as it sniffed the air, as if it were trying to catch Xander's scent. Its mouth was filled with sharp, yellow teeth that seemed too large for its mouth, gleaming wetly as it grinned at him, a predator's smile that promised nothing but pain. Above this mouth, the eyes shone with a disturbing yellow-green glow, vertical pupils contracting into slits as they focused intently on Xander, seeming to bore into his very soul. Shaggy, dark brown hair fell in a tangled mess around its face, partially obscuring pointed, twitching ears that seemed to catch every sound.



The remnants of what might once have been a colorful shirt and jeans clung to its frame in tatters, barely covering the sinewy muscle beneath, as if it had burst out of its clothes like a twisted version of the Hulk. Its bare feet, tipped with sharp, blackened claws, scraped the ground as it moved, leaving behind scratches in the concrete that seemed to smoke and sizzle.  Behind it, a long, thick tail swayed, bushy and heavy, almost scraping the ground.

The creature opened its mouth again, and the sound that emerged was a cackle that split the uneasy night, echoing off the walls of the alley like a demented symphony. "I'm you, idiot," it declared as it laughed, the familiarity of the voice sending a shiver down Xander's spine that froze him to the spot, his muscles locking up as if he had been hit with a taser.

"Who the...?" Xander managed to stammer, his voice on the edge of panic, the words feeling thick and clumsy on his tongue. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I just told you," the creature retorted, voice a disturbing blend of a growl and a laugh. "I'm Xander, and I'm taking my body back!"