Fool of the Devil II-10B

Episode 10B: Snake Boys II

Culebra.

The smell hooked into his nostrils halfway across town a few hours after school finally let out and let the demons they called teenagers free.

That same smell dragged him here like a fish on a line, that rancid desert-rot wrapped around Crestwood College like a certain rich girl’s perfume. And one place, in particular. 

Delta Zeta Kappa frat house. 

Of course. His eyes rolled hard. Of fucking course. The one Cordelia wouldn't shut up about, her college guy's exclusive little kingdom of rich idiots with trust funds and servants.

He wasn’t invited to the party, though. 

No, Xander was crouched behind a hedge, leaves scratching at his jacket sleeves, the whole thing reeking dog piss and fertilizer. My nose is getting a workout today. Although, by this point, he dind’t need his nose because his eyes were doing just fine, too. He could see them through the branches; five of them with their bodies all wrong angles and twitchy puppet-show motion as they slunk toward the back entrance.

Bass thumped out of the frat house, some distorted guitar thing trying to be hardcore and scream-singing that definitely failed at it. Under all that, the scent of cheap beer.

He knew that smell from years of living in the Harris household; the same kind his dad bought in bulk from the liquor store on Fifth.

Drinking Tony's swill, Xander snorted under his breath, These guys are supposed to be Richie Rich and they're serving bottom-shelf? His head shook, motion swallowed by shadow. 

"Seriously," he muttered,  voice a low grumble under the pounding music, "No class. No taste. Money can't buy everything, I gue-fuuuuuck.”

Salvation passed his line of sight, a petite blonde in a dress that was... that was really working for her, actually. Buffy’s little black number situation wasn’t half bad and he couldn’t help but wonder what Willo-No, focus, Harris. 

He stomped on that thought and focused his eyes back on Buffy as she walked up to the frat; shoulders too tight and posture screaming get this over with in neon letters. Slayer never off duty, he snorted, but what’s she doing here even?

Right behind her walked the taller more statuesque figure of Queen C, Xander even more confused by the sight of her. Since when is Beauty friends with the Beast?

Xander raised an eyebrow, a snort leaving him a quick second later. Buffy does have a thing for monsters, though.

The imp sank deeper into the hedge as Buffy and Cordy walked in with a gaggle of other college kids, boys and girls trying too hard in different directions. 

The door opened and closed behind Buffy and the rest, Xander already prepped for a stakeout no matter how long it took.

The hunt was on.

Just had to be patient.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Thirty minutes.

Just have to be patient…

It was easier said than done, given that he was never a patient guy. Even before the whole resurrection thing.

Maybe forty minutes even. As much as he wanted to pretend his watch was a red-handed liar, he knew Rosen Queen was too quality to slack up on him like that.

Just have to be patient.

He was almost about to say it again one more time, just to convince himself he wasn’t wasting his time instead of just breaking into the Frat house when… hm?

The back door creaked, and they poured out; about a dozen of them. Way more than the five he tracked here earlier in the night. Huh… They must have been inside already, holed up in the basement or something, just waiting for the buffet line to form.

They do move in herds.

Unlike dinosaurs, though, these things deserved to be extinct..

Xander moved, trusting the humming certainty in his gut; the thing that told him now and the rest of him listening to it as he peeled out of the bushes.

"Here's Xanny!"

The line was pure cheese, but the grin that came with it was all teeth and terror. 

The first snake-vamp didn’t even have the time to turn.

Xander’s hand shot out, grabbed the back of its neck; leather jacket cool under his palm.

Demonic strength flooded through his arm, dark red flare lighting up with greasy heat behind his eyes. His fingers squeezed.

The crunch was wet, like biting into a chip loaded with dip, the vampire going limp. The body was dust before he even let go, wind blowing the stench right back at him.

"...Ugh, worst smell ever."

Music pounded from the inside, bass thumping hard against his ribs like a second heartbeat; the perfect soundtrack to a perfe-”Hissssss!” 

Another snake-face lunged his way, fangs out, and eyes a bright evil green. 

Gritting his teeth, Xander sidestepped and let the thing’s momentum do the work as it flew past him. “I was monologuing!”

His elbow dropped down on its back, thud vibrating up through bone as the Culebra folded like old cardboard; spine snapping just loud enough to hear over the music.

That makes two.

A third came at him from the side, his left. 

Claws came out, Xander hissiing back as those same claws raked across his face before he could dodge back. Sharp, stinging, hot pain opened up under his eye as his skin split; the warm trickle of his own blood hitting his nose.

The thing in his gut roared.

Xander’s fist shot out, a snarl on his lips, as he moved without thinking, without technique. 

Just a short brutal hook meeting stupid bloodsucker jaw.

The vampire’s head whipped sideways, the crack of bone and neck loud and clear, as it let out something that might have been a whimper before it dropped to the ground.

Tres.

Zone; he was in the zone now, the world shrinking to hissing targets and lurching movements; his body on autopilot as he hunted with a grin on his face. His knee came up, all instinct and anger, as he drove it into a set of weak ribs.

Bone gave way, crumpling with the sound that meant something broke bad.

Another got close, and Xander gave it his forehead for its trouble; a headbutt straight to the nose sending cartilage and bone caving inwards.

The thing staggered back, dazed, and probably seeing stars… for all of five seconds, before a glowing fist crushed the unbeating heart inside its chest.

Five? Six?

One of them, either stupid or brave or just too hungry to care, grabbed at his jacket. Xander’s mouth opened in a gasp as those claws tore at the leather; the expensive damn Rosen Queen leather!

"I swear to-" The words dissolved into growl, something lower, meaner, and not his voice leaving him as his hand shot out, grabbed its wrist, and twisted. 

Bone snapped like a pretzel stick under his grip, the Culebra screaming as he yanked the thing forward into the stake he pulled from his jacket pocket.

"Hope the afterlife has showers," he wiped dust and blood off his cheek, grimacing at the texture, the grit mixing with wet, "'cause you suckers need one."

The last two leapt at him together, a coordinated rush of fangs and claws and desperation. Xander roared and met them head-on with a blur of motion. 

One hand shot out, five fingers closing themselves around a throat as demonic strength flooded his arm with hot, greasy power.

Vampire flesh collapsed under his strength, cartilage and dead flesh giving way as he just… pulled. The head came off like he was ripping a teddy bear in half, hot dust and gore raining down on him; coating his face, hair and getting in his mouth.

Gross.

A split-second later, a scream cut through the night; familiar, high-pitched and terrified.

Xander couldn't stop. Not yet. He was already spinning, the momentum carrying him forward, and he drove his stake into the final vampire's heart.

Hunting high fading with one last spurt of dust, Xander took a heavy breath and turned.

And there she was; hair a disaster, expensive dress torn at the shoulder, and everything else about her a mess half-caked with dust.

"Xander…" 

Cordelia stared at him; wide-eyed, confused, and at least half in a panic as her voice came out a whispering stutter. "Wh-wh-what are you?"

He looked down at his hands, dust and blood and grime coating his knuckles about three layers deep and smearing its way up his forearms. His face was probably not all that different, considering he could feel the vampire dust on him like chalk. 

The usual jokes, the sarcastic comebacks, the classic deflection…

Like the vamps turned kitty litter, they were all pretty much dead.

Well…

He wiped his hands on his jeans as he kept his eyes on hers. "The guy you’re about to have a talk with."