Meme: Trickster (Buffy) x Firefly (Post-BDM) (Patreon)

Thothkristen asked, " What about the crossover story where River becomes friends with Xander and or Spike and they have an adventure?"  Years ago I wrote a story where during that Halloween night, Xander dressed as a vampire. The spirit of a long-dusted grandchilde of Dracula merged with Xander.  This is set thousands of years after that...

If you want to read the original, you can find it here:  http://litgal.org/Butterfly/Trickster.htm  and  http://litgal.org/Butterfly/Trickster2a.htm  

(and then snippets here: https://lit-gal.livejournal.com/149892.html  and  https://lit-gal.livejournal.com/186046.html )

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Xan leaned against the table and watched the two most stubborn creatures in the ‘verse fight about which hover to buy. The first thousand years of their life together, Xan had tried to tame the two, but he had finally decided that they enjoyed torturing each other far too much to give it up, even for him. Perhaps if Xan had created the two vampires he might have felt more of a need to mold them, but he hadn’t. He had claimed them after each had taken the status of master vampire for themselves.

A barker came over, shoving his wares in the faces of the patrons. “Look at this. It’s an exact replica of a weapon you would have found on Earth-that-was!” He shoved a dull sword in the face of a man in a well-tailored suit. People from the core planets had an odd obsession for all things related to their lost homeworld, so Xan expected he would buy the monstrosity. Instead he drove the barker away with a few cultured threats.

“How about you, sir?” the man held the sword for Xan.

Xan lifted an eyebrow. “I was alive on Earth when humans killed each other with swords and lived in rock and straw houses, and I can assure you that no warrior would have used that ill-balanced, ugly chunk of metal.” Xan scoffed.

The barker slowly backed away, and over at the hovers, Xan’s hellcat had given up his fight, leaving Angel to choose the vehicle. He would regret that. However, Spike focused all his attention on Xan’s conversation. Not that there was much more to say. 

The barker backed away, certain he had stumbled upon a madman. That was, no doubt, better than believing he had discovered one of the few vampires to survive the diaspora. Oh, certainly vampires claimed to have once walked on Earth, but as Spike was so fond of saying, “If every vampire who said he was at the crucifixion was actually there, it would have been like Woodstock, and if every vampire who claimed to have walked on Earth actually had, there wouldn’t have been room on the ships for any humans.”

“Xan,” a voice whispered.

Xan whirled around, and his gaze settled on a slip of a girl. She was thin, pale. Maybe that is why she reminded Xan of his mother—the one who had been born in a castle rather than the one who had given birth to this body hundreds of years later. The girl tilted her head to the side, her hair hanging like a silken tapestry. “He is with you.” She walked closer.

“Who is, child?” he asked. 

She smiled. “All the others are safe, but he worries about you. The spell breaks and he separates, but he never leaves. He watches. He tries to protect you.”

Xan frowned, but before he could say anything, Spike appeared at her side.

“Who watches, luv?”

She smiled at him. Of the three of them, Spike was the most dangerous, but she reached up and rested her fingertips against his chin. “He loved you first. He loves you still.”

Spike sent Xan a worried look. 

“We should leave,” Xan said. He was not terribly surprised when his hellcat chose to ignore him.

“Who loves me?”

“Xander,” she whispered.

Again, Spike looked over to Xan.

“No.” The girl laughed. “Xan is older, yet he lives within Xander.” She pressed a fist to her temple. “Xan came to live with Xander Harris.”

Xan sucked in a quick breath. Xander Harris was the name of the soul with whom he’d once shared this body. But the warlock who had called Xan, childe of Nusa, out of the past and the witch who kept calling Xander Harris’s soul back from the beyond were both dead from their regrettable humanity.

“Right then, you say he’s here?” Spike rested a hand on the girl’s arm. 

She nodded. “He’s so tired. He should go and rest, but he won’t leave you, and he has no body to rest in.” She closed her eyes and rolled her head about on her shoulders as a small moan slipped out. A wildness came into Spike’s expression—a need to fix and save and gather up that which he loved. How a vampire could retain such an ability to love still baffled Xan millennia later. However, when Spike looked to him, Xan had no answers. He knew how to force a soul out of a body, but not how to rescue one that had wearied itself on some Sisyphean quest to protect vampires. 

“Hey there, I’ve been calling you.” A man in homespun clothing walked up and put his arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I’m real sorry if’n she’s been bothersome. She’s real sane most days, but sometimes… it just slips a mite.” He made a gesture toward his head to make it clear what he thought was slipping.

The girl leaned into him. “Millennia on millennia of memories. Ships and Earth-that-was and sunrises of alien suns that don’t burn. It makes the head spin with all the thoughts and thoughts and thoughts.”

“Some days I worry on you more than others,” the man said. He tipped his hat toward them. “Again, real sorry folks.” With that, he turned the girl away and guided her down the path.

“Xan?” Spike said.

Xan watched her go. He had lived long enough to avoid dismissing words out of hand simply because he didn’t wish to believe them. “I heard her.”

“If he’s suffering…” Spike didn’t finish, but Xan knew how upset Spike was because his accent had slipped into something far too polished for the street urchin he pretended to be. Angel strolled over, and Xan could see the set of his shoulders—tense, upset. No doubt he wished to be the great hero who saved Xander Harris once more.

Even Xan felt a ghost of concern at the idea that the soul of Xander Harris had wearied itself out trying to stay with this odd clan. It had been at least two thousand years since Willow had last cursed Xander back into the body now owned by the ancient vampire Xan of Nusa. Xander Harris might have been a human, but he had the loyalty of a true childe, and Xan had always appreciated that. “We should see where she’s going,” Xan said.

Spike whooped and darted off into the crowd.

“Could be trouble,” Angel said, always one for seeing the bright side of problems. This time he was right, but they were a strong clan, three vampires who had lived longer than the current human civilization. They could handle a little trouble. And if Xan needed to rescue Xander’s soul, well the truth was that Xander had saved Xan from vanishing into history, a forgotten childe of one of Dracula’s wives. Xan might owe him. And he always paid his debts.