Disclaimer: I don't own it.
Summary: X-over with the game Hellgate: London. Xander finds himself going through the mouth of hell and out its gate. Survival story will become dark; maybe slash later on, violence, language, its all here.
AN: This takes place after Season Two of BtVS and starts at the beginning of the game. I know some things are confusing in the beginning, but the as Xander meets more people in the game, he will find out what happened.
And the Gates of Hell Will Open…
Out of all the ways Xander thought he would die, this wasn't one of them. He'd revived Buffy in the Master's cave, saved Cordy from Dr. Frankendork, protected Buffy from Angelus, and helped prevent at least four apocalypses. Xander had survived hyena and soldier possessions. Fuck, all of his seventeen years had been spent on the mouth of hell! Why was this happening to him?
At the end, we all ask this question. Why us? Why do I have to experience this? Haven't I done good things? Helped people? Why am I here?
Here in this dank and shadowed room. Here with the trash that people were too busy to get rid of. Here lying on my stomach as my blood fled my body in a quickly growing wave. Here as I was abandoned to die alone, my killer not caring enough to be here as I inhaled for the last time.
So this was IT. That final breathe I would take. There was time, but so precious little of time. A moment, a heartbeat, one single breath left in life of Alexander Harris. The final firing of synapses in his brain bought Xander a second of clarity. Though he was dying he wasn't finished yet. That last moment wasn't for the dying; it was for those who lived. The dead don't need it. They know already. Everything they were, everything they are, and everything they might have been. Xander had one thing left in this world, and he gave it away.
"Be safe," Xander whispered in his final exhalation of breath. There was no one to hear him.
If only little child,
If only souls of the dead were so at rest.
It was hungry. Always hungry. There was never anything but the hunger. All It wanted was to feast, and feast, and feast until the brightness was gone. It tasted so good. Like lightning and bubbles and fizzing fire. They all tasted so good. Especially those that were born for It. The shiny souls that slowly fed Its hunger as they grew. Lately, all Its good snacks were staying away. This would never do. It was hungry. And then, someone made an offering. One of Its children, Hellmouth bred in the boy's blood, bone, and soul. It had been so long. So, It ate the boy-thing. Body, spirit, and flesh; there were no children here.
Had Xander Harris been aware of it, he probably would have been offended by what happened next. After all, what goes in must come out. And this being the freaking Mouth of Hell, it wasn't like the exit sign lead somewhere that was all superheroes and starships. Instead, Xander ended up pretty where he started. In hell. Well, hell on earth, anyway. But he didn't know any of this. He didn't even know he was still alive, much less what was going on in the world left around him.
Ashes, he tasted ashes. Underneath that was the unforgettable tang of sulfur. Xander thought this was a strange way for heaven to be. Everything he'd been told went more along the lines of sunshine, clouds, and Twinkies. On the heels of taste, came feeling. His chest was burning! Franticly tearing at his shirt, he didn't notice the bloody garment rip apart; Xander was too occupied with the slowly closing wound on his chest. The vertical slash that had almost eviscerated him, it had killed him, though. Why was it still there? If this was heaven why was he in pain? Although logic wasn't his strong point even Xander could feel awful understanding beginning to creep into his brain. Ashes, sulfur, pain…. All that was missing was…. Glancing around Xander saw just where he was.
The sky was red, rubble and corpses covered the ground. Once magnificent skyscrapers were bodies of hollowed cement, the remnants of civilization lay before his eyes. This was hell. He was in Hell! Xander knew he wasn't a great person, a productive member of society, but he'd fought for the good, damn it. The last two years of his life had gone towards saving the entire freaking planet and here he was in hell. That about figured.
Then Xander heard the noise. A thunderous clank was filling the air. Looking around for the source, he noticed that the previously red light had disappeared. God this can't be real! The frantic thought rang through Xander's mind, there was no such thing as demonic, 50 foot, flying squid! It wasn't real. None of this was real. This was just an incredibly scary Twinkie induced hallucination. It was all a dream!
Xander had to face the truth. He had died. And now, he had gone to hell. Hell, where demons ruled and darkness played. Where souls were sundered and ripped to fragments. This was where people stopped being people and started becoming things. To survive, humans had to. And Xander had to decide: was he willing to survive?
Given his current predicament, this wasn't the time for philosophical musings. Now was the time to find someplace to hide. Someplace where Xander would be, relatively anyway, safe, the irony of trying to find a safe place in hell wasn't lost on him. About thirty yards away he saw a staircase that led downwards into an empty building. There might be things in there, but they had to be smaller than the flying thing! Glancing around, Xander stood up and tried to silently make his way towards the stairs.
Dodging the remains of cars and rocks, Xander continued his journey. He determinately kept his eyes way from the dead. Finally reaching his destination, Xander made his way down the stairs. And then his luck kicked him. Pausing, Xander heard the slow shuffle of footsteps against the ground. Low moans and keens emanated from the darkness inside. Waiting for his eyes to adjust, Xander's common sense made a rare appearance. He didn't call out to see who was in the room.
As Xander's eyes began to improve enough to show him what was inside the room, he wished it hadn't. Because, honestly, he could have lived without seeing the thing in front of him, it was a zombie, obviously. The once human features were a give away, and the missing part of the thing's skull where some demon had taken a bite? Dead and still shambling, totally a zombie, Xander thought. But underneath the glib musings he was horrified. The zombie's hands were worn away until all you could see was bloody muscle and bone, what was left of the brain rolled around inside its head.
Just when Xander and decided to get the hell out of there, the zombie noticed his presence. With a grunt it began to run towards Xander. Frantically looking around, he spotted a free piece of rebar on the floor in the room. Looking at the zombie, Xander saw it was moving up the stairs towards him. He jumped toward the ground and grabbed the bar. Clumsily, the zombie turned and went back down the stairs. Xander decided quick movements were the way to go. Darting in, he struck the head and jumped back. Shaking its body, the zombie returned to its pursuit of Xander. What followed was the scariest game of whack-a-mole Xander had ever played.
Finally fed up, Xander growled and charged at the zombie. He raised the rebar like a spear and shoved it into the zombie's eye and out the back of its head. Quickly retreating, Xander grabbed a piece of wood and waited to see if it would rise again. When it didn't he nearly collapsed in relief. Laughing brokenly, Xander realized he answered his question from earlier. He was going to survive.