ANGEL OF DESTINY

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters/concepts belong to Joss Whedon, Marti Noxon, Twentieth Century Fox Television, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Kuzui Enterprises, and Sandollar Television. Any copyright infringements are not intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.

Spoilers and Timing: This story takes place right after "When She Was Bad". There are spoilers for that episode and "Prophecy Girl" and minor spoilers for a reference to the Stargate SG-1 episode "Window of Opportunity".

Summary: After bringing Buffy back through CPR, Xander is faced with a choice: after he dies, he'll either become the Prince of Darkness, or he'll become an Angel, and it all depends on the good and bad decisions he makes during the rest of his life…

In the midst of several other fan fiction projects, I decided to take this one on just for fun. This one answers a challenge posted at the XanderZone which goes as follows:

____

There was something I wondered 'bout for quite some time before the thought turned into a bunny and decided to test my immunity to rabies. Why were ther no big consequences for Xander at the end first/beginning second season?? I mean he managed to stop a prophecy, something that shouldn't be possible according to Giles. And here is where the bunny comes into play.

What if, untold eons ago, right ofter his fall from the heavens, Lucifer was ranting at fate and was told that no one could escape or prevent fate. In his anger he made an oath that he would give his place to the one who manages to defy fate. Many tried, all failed. Then Xander comes along in 'Prophecy Girl' finding a loophole and manages to outstubborn Fate. Now Heaven and Hell have a problem, because Lucifer never said, which place the Prophecybraker would get: his old one in Heaven as Gods most beloved angel, or his new one as the King of Hell. Both sides want him, both sides have good arguments to back them up.

a) Xander has a dream and is called before the powers. Both sides explain their views and claims to him and ask him to make a choice. I think there should be some good/bad side effects to both choices, so that the choice shouldn't be too easy.

b) The powers decide to let Xander's life speak for him. They make him immortal and each side covers one side of his body with a 'Tattoo' (something of the tribal variety). Black for hell and white for heaven. Everytime he does something bad, a bit of the white tattoo will become black and everytime he does something good abit of the black will become white and he is to live as long as it take for one color to take completely over as soon as the tattoo is completely monochrome he will go to the side, which color he still wears.

And then the bunny left me (OK I klobbered it with my broom, but who cares)

Have fun

Simone

*****

Several millions of years of history have been lost to mortal man. Man's conquests, travels, and victories, as well as the rise and fall of the animals and plant life of whom only fossils remain, will forever be cast in shadow. Written word did not exist then; only the fossils themselves can tell the stories, and they can only tell so much.

The tales that do survive were passed down through the generations of man's offspring from one mouth to the next. Each generation would bring a deviation of the story, some detail added or dropped from the previous version, until the facts had long been forgotten only to be replaced by myths, legends, and fairy tales. Some of the facts, however, did survive. Many of these, as well as many of the myths and legends, were what were recorded on stone, wood, papyrus, parchment, and eventually paper when man ceased to rely solely on the spoken word.

One of those stories tells of an act of Lucifer, known also as the Devil. After God cast him out of heaven, the story says that Lucifer, while in a fit of anger, made an oath. He swore he would give his position to the first person to successfully go against Fate.

Such a thing had never been done before in the known history of the world. To defy Fate…Lucifer had struck a challenge, and that challenge seemed to be impossible.

Billions of years later, when the story of Lucifer's Oath was still being told, no one knew if this particular tale was fact or myth…

…until now.

No one thought if could be done. It defied a prophecy, a written proclamation of what was to come. The prophecy foretold of the Slayer's death and the Master's rise, and what prophesies foretell always come true.

Yet, it was defied, and by a mortal no less. His name was Alexander LaVelle Harris, a fighter on the side of the light. When the prophecy foretold of Buffy Summers, the Slayer's, death, Harris ignored it. He brought Buffy back to life, defying plans that had been in motion for hundreds upon hundreds of years.

No one in heaven, hell, and in between could believe it, least of all the Devil himself. What even he couldn't accomplish, this Alexander LaVelle Harris had without much effort.

Now they came upon a problem. Unlike when he was first cast out of God's presence, Lucifer no longer held any desire to give up his position in Hell. Seeing a loophole, he jumped at it. He hadn't said which position he'd give the Fate-Defier, and Lucifer had held two positions in his time: one as an Archangel, and one as the ruler of Hell.

At first, the side of the light considered refusing allowing Harris any position as an Archangel simply on the Devil's insistence. That was before they studied Xander Harris more closely and discovered they liked what they saw.

However, in Hell, Lucifer had his own problems. The various Hell Gods and Goddesses, none of which were his allies, rose against him and demanded that Xander Harris take Lucifer's place.

Both sides wanted him, and both of them claimed rights to him. However, both of them couldn't have him, and so a decision had to be made.

Meanwhile, in the town of Sunnydale, California, Alexander LaVelle Harris went about his mortal life as usual, unaware of the attention being paid to him.

*****

It had been a long night. The Annointed One, the Master's successor, had nearly succeeded in bringing the Master back to life. Buffy had a nervous breakdown when she finally had to deal with what had happened to her three months before when the Master had drunk some of her blood, weakening her before dropping her in a pond to drown only for Xander to revive her through CPR.

It had been a very long night. Xander was looking forward to falling asleep. He didn't want to think of how Buffy had danced with him in the Bronze simply to make Angel jealous. He didn't want to think about Buffy's breakdown and his worry for her. He just wanted to sleep.

Which was why he was very annoyed as well as alarmed to find a demon waiting for him in his second-story bedroom.

When he opened his door and saw the five-foot tall, green-and-gray-skinned demon standing in his room, Xander nearly fell over in shock. He grabbed hold of the door handle and the doorframe to break his fall and quickly scrambled back to his feet. "Demon!" he exclaimed. His eyes roamed over the floor around him before settling on a group of the clocks he had arranged around the room. He picked up two of the clocks and a pair of shoes on the floor next to them and then proceeded to throw them at the demon.

The demon in question ducked and dodged as many of the missiles as possible. "Ow! What did you do that for?" he asked Xander, clearly affronted.

Xander ran out of missiles and just stood there. "I’m going to give you five seconds to get out of my room before I bring out the big guns. Got that?"

"Woah, woah, take it easy," the demon said, holding out both hands. "I just want to talk."

"Really," Xander said, sarcastically. "Like you're not planning on tearing me to pieces and eating my brains."

"Do I look like a Pyardo Demon to you?" the demon asked him, clearly affronted. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Why don't they ever know you're a Balance Demon? They always want to make with the killing. They never want to just play cool."

"Balance Demon?" Xander repeated, confused. "What the hell is that?"

"I make sure the balance is upheld between good and evil," he replied. "By the way, the name's Biter, just in case you were wondering."

"'Biter?'" Xander repeated, just as alarmed as before. "And exactly how did you get that name?"

"Not from eating humans, if that's what you're thinking. Just so you know, I happen to be a vegetarian. I don't even eat sugar. Ugh. 'Biter' is short for Thibi'te'rane Naschaw'iw'tt, not that humans like yourself would ever be able to pronounce that properly."

"Anyway, since both of us would much rather be elsewhere, let me just get down to the point. Don't know if you've noticed, Alexander LaVelle Harris, but you've been attracting quite a bit of attention both upstairs and downstairs, if you get what I’m saying."

"Attention? What?" Xander asked, his gaze snapping back to the demon. Before then, he'd been looking around for his metal bat, but now Biter had Xander's full attention. "What are you talking about?"

"You-"

Biter pointed at Xander.

"-bringing Miss Slay Gal back to life-"

He pointed out the window in the general direction of the Master's lair.

"-only a few months back."

To finish, he pointed at the calendar hanging lopsidedly on the wall opposite Xander's bed. Despite his obsession with timepieces, Xander had completely ignored that calendar for months. It was still opened to the month of May, when Buffy died.

"So?" Xander asked, not really understanding what the big deal was. So he'd defied a prophecy, so what? If it meant Buffy would live, he'd do it a hundred times over.

"Soooo…you screwed up the big master plan of the whole world, dufus. You screwed up Fate, for crying out loud! Not many mortals can say they've done that. It might even be unprecedented. In fact, even the Devil himself thought it couldn't be done, and now he's in a snitch 'cause of what he said a few eons back. You see, he swore to give up his position to the first person or creature to go against Fate, and you've just won the lottery, Harris."

Xander's face paled as what Biter was saying sunk in. "You mean…I'm going to be the ruler of Hell? That really hot place full of eternal suffering?" He pointed downwards. "The one way, way down there?"

"The very same," Biter said, nodding. "Though whether or not you'll be ruler or not is still up for debate."

Xander's face lit up. "It is?"

"Yep. See the man upstairs is pretty impressed with you, too, and since Lucifer never specified *which* position he'd give you - either the one he has now or the one he used to have in heaven - the angels and the demons are all fighting over it. They've finally come up with an agreement, however."

Xander waited in trepidation, but Biter didn't go on. "And?" Xander prompted, impatient.

Biter suddenly stood up straighter. His eyes glowed red as he raised a finger and crooked it. "Come," he commanded, his voice coming out sounding more powerful and demanding than before.

Against his will, Xander found his legs obeying the demon's command. Before he could stop himself, he'd crossed the room to the demon and stopped in front of him.

Without another word, Biter waved his arm. Xander's button-down shirt flew off of his arms and onto the floor, followed soon after by his T-shirt. Xander, still locked in the demon's thrall, couldn't move.

"What are you-?" Xander demanded.

Biter waved his hand again, forcing Xander's jaw to snap shut.

"They've decided to base their ultimate decision on your actions," Biter said, continuing his explanation. He placed both of his palms on Xander's chest. "This is going to hurt," he warned.

It felt like a knife was being dug into his skin, only this knife had been heated in a furnace for an hour beforehand. Xander screamed, although his screams were muffled because he still couldn't open his mouth. He passed out.

Biter finished his handiwork and pulled his hands away. He sighed, wishing he could leave the kid unconscious, 'cause that just had to hurt, but there were so many more things Biter had to tell the mortal. So he slapped him awake.

When Xander's eyes opened again, Biter told him, "You've got two new tattoos on you, Harris. Let me fill you in about them. They're both empty right now. Whenever you do something good, a portion of the one on the right will turn white. Whenever you do something bad, a portion of the one on the left will turn black. If the one on the left turns black first, you'll be fulfilling your new role as the Prince of Darkness. If the one on the right turns white first, you'll get to be an archangel. It's all up to you now."

Biter waved his hand again and released his hold on Xander. Xander collapsed to the ground. When he looked around him again, Biter had disappeared.

*****

When Xander woke up the next morning, he really hoped it had all been a dream. Sure, he was on the floor, and sure, he was half-naked, but maybe he'd been so tired last night that he'd simply missed the bed. Hey, it could happen.

His fears were confirmed, however, the second he looked down. "Oh, God," Xander muttered, staring at the symbols on his chest. He'd expected to see dried blood caked over the lines, but instead he saw healed-over scars.

On the right side of his chest was a symbol of some sort. It resembled an upside down horseshoe superimposed over a stylized 'A' with lines and curves going through both of them. The symbol overall was hollow, presumably to slowly be filled with white. On the left side of his chest was another symbol, this one of a right side up horseshoe which Xander was guessing was the Greek sign for Omega, which he'd seen a few times while doing research for the gang. It was surrounded and not intersected by several smaller symbols Xander didn't recognize.

Xander got up and ran to the bathroom for a better look. "Oh, man. I need to go to Giles."

He got dressed and ran downstairs and out the front door, not even stopping for breakfast. He grabbed his skateboard and quickly zoomed down his street in the direction of Giles’ apartment, which was only a few blocks away. He hoped Giles stayed home on Saturdays, not that there were many places the British man could go in Sunnydale on the weekends.

It was with much relief that he spotted Giles’ Citroen parked in front of the complex. When Xander reached the stairs leading into the courtyard, he didn’t even pause before sailing over them on the skateboard, landing smoothly at the bottom in a move that would have left him stunned at any other time. Instead, he skated the rest of the way to Giles’ door, picked up the board, and raced into Giles’ apartment, not even bothering to knock.

"Giles!" he called, looking around the living room for signs of the Watcher.

He heard a crash up above followed by several curses before Giles appeared on the stairs. "Xander? What are you doing here, and how did you get in?"

"Your door was unlocked," Xander replied absently. "Look, Giles, there’s something…first, a demon shows up in my room, and then he did something to me."

Giles reached the bottom of the stairs and walked across the room to Xander, putting on his glasses for a clearer look at the younger man. "What are you talking about?"

"The demon said that because I saved Buffy, heaven and hell were fighting over who has rights over me, and then he branded me with these tattoos and said my actions would decide who ultimately got me."

"What? Let’s see these tattoos."

Xander lifted his shirt. When Giles saw the symbols on his chest, his jaw dropped. Xander watched, panicking, as Giles looked like he was going to faint.

Giles grabbed onto the closest object to keep his balance before making his way slowly to the couch and plopping onto it. "Good Lord," Giles said.

"Giles?" Xander questioned.

Giles got back to his feet and leaned in, studying the tattoos. "Do you have any idea what these mean?" Giles asked.

Xander shook his head. "I just know one’s going to turn black with every bad thing I do and the other’s going to turn white with every good thing I do. Whichever one has turned color first decides where I’ll end up."

"These are the symbols of Lucifer," Giles said, more to himself than to Xander. "And if you’re branded with these, and…where you’ll end up?…good Lord. You’re Lucifer’s Heir!"

Xander was near panicking by this point. "G-Man, what am I going to do? I don’t want to be the Prince of Darkness. Sure, being an Angel wouldn’t be all that bad, but what if they change their minds and the things in Hell decide they want me more and just take me without asking?"

"There is some danger of that happening, yes. However, if the PTB want you as bad as the denizens of Hell, they’d probably put up a fight to get you back."

"Oh, God." Xander paced back and forth across Giles’ floor. He stopped and walked back over to the Watcher. "Giles, you can’t tell the others about this."

"Xander-"

"No! I don’t want them to know. I want them to treat me like normal. I don’t want them to freak out or for Buffy or Willow to start acting weird around me, counting every bad and good decision I make."

"And you? Will you be doing that?"

"What choice do I have?" Xander asked him. He plopped down onto Giles’ couch. "Biter said all of this happened because I brought Buffy back. She can’t know, Giles. I don’t want her to feel guilty. Please, Giles."

Giles sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. "Xander, keeping a secret like this could only result in hardship. I'm afraid we must tell-"

Suddenly, Giles froze. He stood there with his hand stuck in the motion of replacing his glasses.

Xander stood up, alarmed. "Giles?-"

Even as he asked the question, Giles jumped. He blinked at Xander, confused. "Xander? How did you get in here?"

Xander stared at him. "Uh…Giles? So not funny."

Giles just gave him a look. "What are you talking about? How long have you been here?" He glanced around again. "In fact, how long have I been down here? I was just in the bathroom…"

Xander felt apprehension form in the pit of his stomach. "I need to go."

He grabbed his skateboard and ran past Giles and out the door, ignoring Giles' attempts to stop him.

*****

Xander spent the better part of an hour just skateboarding all over town. He didn't have any clear destination in mind, nor did he even consider stopping.

The scarred-tattoos didn't burn anymore. After fifty minutes, he finally did stop, if only to pull up his shirt and make sure they were still there.

Both of them were still skin-colored. He had yet to do anything bad or good enough to count, he supposed. Which meant these babies would only record the big events, not just the meanness of bumping into people on the sidewalks as he skating past.

He was still puzzled about what had happened with Giles. One minute, Giles was trying to convince him to tell Buffy and Willow, and the next he'd forgotten why Xander was there. Xander didn't like the implications of that one bit. If it meant what he thought it meant, then no matter how many times Xander told another person about his tattoos and his new fate, they would forget all about it moments later.

Okay, so there were some advantages to this. Of course, Xander would have preferred to be able to do embarrassing or incriminating things and simply have everyone else forget he'd ever done them, leaving him with fond memories and no detentions, like in that episode of Stargate SG-1 with the time loop.

A disadvantage of this would be that he couldn't ever tell anyone, or he could but they would just forget all about it. Although he'd wanted to keep this a secret from Buffy and Willow and the others, he now wished he could tell them now that he thought about it.

Suddenly, a shiver ran up his chest. Coldness rose off his chest in waves, making his teeth rattle. Xander pulled his shirt back up and looked down. His tattoos had turned an icy-blue color. The skin around the tattoos hadn't changed from its natural peach color, which only alarmed him more; whatever was making him feel so cold was supernatural.

He looked around wildly. Surely there was a reason that this was happening, and he was hoping it was something he could fight. He walked a few paces and glanced into the alley to his right-

-only to come right up into Biter's face.

"Aaah!" Xander stumbled back, bringing his right hand up to his chest. He regretted that a moment later when, letting out a second yelp, he pulled back his hand and saw that the tattoos were so cold they had removed some of the skin off of his palm.

"Well, that certainly helps my next spiel," Biter commented, glancing down at the glowing tattoos.

Xander hastily pulled his shirt back down. "What are you doing here?" Xander asked him, anger is his voice. He didn't bother trying to attack; Biter could easily put Xander back under the thrall he'd been subjected to last time.

"Came to tell you a few more things." The demon pointed at his covered chest. "That, for one. That'll happen every time you come within a certain distance of a supernatural threat. It's a side effect of the magicks involved in those tattoos of yours. Also, some demons, vampires especially, will be able to sense something off about you, so you don't have to worry about them biting you. The bosses want you to have as much time as possible to make your choices."

"You can tell them they can find someone else to be the Prince of Darkness or an angel," Xander said.

Biter smirked. "No can do, Harris. We'll be seeing more of each other, count on it. 'Til next time!"

The next minute, Biter had disappeared, even though Xander hadn't seen him leave.

Furious, Xander punched the brick wall next to him. The impact broke two of his knuckles and broke the skin over the other two. It didn't make him feel any better.

*****

Xander got into his car, wincing when pain flared in his back. He reached into the glove compartment and took out a notebook. Flipping to the first blank page, he recorded the date before proceeding to make a list.

He tapped his pencil against the paper, trying to think of something else to add. When he could think of nothing, he put the pad back in the glove compartment.

He'd been keeping the journal ever since Biter had marked him with those tattoos. He wanted to keep track of everything he did to make sure he didn't do anything inherently bad. Accidents were exceptions, he'd learned, unless they were really big accidents - like messing up your best friend when she's trying to save all of your lives. That hadn't only partly been an accident, which was why he was betting he'd get a mark for it on his tattoo since if he'd messed her up any more all of Sunnydale would have been destroyed. The second time definitely hadn't been his fault, seeing as how one of the demons they were fighting had thrown him into the pile of Willow's ingredients.

Xander glanced outside at the high school. It was around one in the morning and, now that the latest threat had been diverted and decapitated, the gang had parted ways. As far as he could see, he was alone in the parking lot; no one or no thing was in sight.

Xander chuckled humorlessly. Not that it mattered. The gang had gotten some good views of his tattoos that night, and despite his attempts to deflect their attentions from them, they forgot all about the tattoos within minutes. Even if he'd stood in the middle of a crowd of people and publicly displayed his tattoos to the world, no one in that crowd would remember it.

He lifted his shirt and glanced down at his tattoos. As he suspected, a small fraction of both tattoos had turned white and black because of his actions that day. The fractions were miniscule compared to what was already filled in and what still needed to be filled. Xander had a long way to go.

With a sigh, Xander pulled his shirt back down, started the car, and pulled out of the lot.

He'd pulled into his house's driveway when his tattoos flared up again, sending instant chill up and down his spine. "Great. Just great," Xander said. He grabbed an axe he kept in the back seat before cautiously stepping out of the car.

Up above, the sky had begun to lighten, transforming from its early-night pitch blackness to a dark blue. Despite this, Xander couldn't see anything that looked suspiciously like a demon. Still, his tattoos wouldn't go back to room temperature, so he knew something was out there.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are so I can kill you," Xander half-whispered.

Several moments past. Nothing moved, and nothing demon-like appeared in his line of sight.

Exasperated, Xander threw up his hands. "Fine!" he called out into the yard. "Have it your way. I'm just going to go to bed. Whenever you feel like talking, just knock on the front door or something and I'll come downstairs so we can chat."

He cut across the yard to the front door. As he climbed up the steps, however, his tattoos flared up again, making him gasp from the suddenly freezing cold it was producing.

He was so distracted that he didn't hear the porch's floorboards creak as something shifted its weight. He didn't hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late.

Something heavy slammed into the back of his head, knocking Xander unconscious.

*****

It was hot. He was covered in sweat.

Someone cackled. Machinery buzzed and whirled.

He couldn't open his eyes. Couldn't move, either, or think. Just listen.

Something pressed against his skin. Pain erupted.

Someone screamed. He couldn't tell if it was him.

*****

Xander woke up to throbbing pain ringing throughout his skull. It made him feel dizzy.

Something was digging uncomfortably into his stomach and his thighs. Opening his eyes, Xander saw darkness. It took him a few moments to realize that his face was resting against something hard that smelled like dirt.

He pushed himself off of the floor and looked around. He was lying half-sprawled on the wooden porch of his house, and his legs were sprawled across the concrete steps.

It was twilight. He'd been lying there for some time…or had he? Half-remembered memories of another, much hotter place…or had he been dreaming?

He felt the back of his head. A few locks of hair were clotted together near his scalp due to the dried blood that was doubtless there. At least the wound had stopped bleeding.

He got to his feet and glanced around. Everything seemed to be just the way he left them. The axe lay next to him on the porch. His car was still in the driveway. The only thing missing was the person or thing that had hit him. The only indication that a demon had been there was the pain on the back of his head.

Confused, Xander unlocked the door and entered the house. It was eerily quiet, not to mention clean. He didn't see a single bottle in the hall or in the living room as he passed it by. Come to think of, the consumers of the contents of said bottles were missing from their usual places on the couch, too.

He heard footsteps resounding on the stairs. He turned to see his father, freshly shaven, descending from the second floor. Xander stared. Anthony Harris was dressed impeccably in a business suit and tie, and to top it all off, he was whistling, and not off-key.

He smiled when he saw Xander. "Hello, son. Is your mother down yet?"

Xander automatically glanced into the living room to see if she was before remembering that she wasn't there. "Um…I don't think so," Xander said.

Anthony shrugged. "Oh, well. I was hoping she'd gotten out of the shower already. I wanted her to taste my Eggs Benedict before I left this morning for work."

"You cook?" Xander asked, dumbfounded.

His father raised an amused eyebrow at his son. "Of course I cook. What have you been for the past seventeen years?"

"Um…I just…"

Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. That's what his mind told him. No way would his dad act this…cheerful in the mornings. Hell, his dad would never be this cheerful, ever.

So how was that a bad thing? Xander frowned at his own thinking process. He was feeling very confused. Maybe he was still unconscious and this was just a dream. He nodded to himself, wincing when his scalp throbbed. Yeah. That had to be the explanation for all of this, 'cause no way was his real dad ever this nice.

Well, as long as he was unconscious, he might as well enjoy it before he woke up to the reality. So they went to the kitchen and were soon joined by Jessica Harris. The three of them sat at the table and had the first family meal Xander had ever remembered having, and he found himself enjoying it. He had no idea that his parents could ever be so nice and caring towards him, even in a concussion-inspired dream.

The Eggs Benedict was very tasty. It turned out that his dream dad was a good cook. He found himself agreeing with his mother when she complimented Mr. Harris on a job well done.

Anthony blushed. "It's nothing much, really." He turned to Xander. "Now, remember what we talked about last night? About the signs?"

"Signs?" Xander asked, brow furrowed. "What signs?"

Jessica was looking very distressed. "Tony, you know I don't like talking about that at the breakfast table."

"Sorry, dear, but we must warn him."

"Warn me about what?" He had a bad feeling about this. Xander felt like he'd just stepped into the Twilight Zone.

to be continued

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