God's Gone AWOL

[2] Xander's Emo Hours

He wasn't really sure what he was expecting.

Bentley had said she had forcefully blasted her way out of her grave. But for some reason, Xander had pictured something a little cleaner than the sight in front of him now. It was as if a whole chunk of the beautiful hill had been assaulted with a bulldozer. Heaping patches of dried up earth stained the hillside brown. Uprooted flowers withered in clumps on the ground. The sight was already almost unbearable to see, but the worst image of all was the dark earthy hole, decorated with filthy stringy roots, burrowing six feet into the ground.

Xander couldn't stand it. He immediately started scooping up the piles of discarded dirt and throwing them back into the pit from whence they came. He'd been the one who dug this grave in the first place, he might as well be the one to fill it in after Bentley destroyed it.

How stupid. He visited Pomegranate Hill to look for any trace of his sister, and yet he found the mess she had left instead. Nothing had changed, even after all these years. He was still the one cleaning up after her.

As Xander continued to fill in the obsolete grave, he thought about the sister who was still buried. Lilith's grave had been untouched by the blast, thank goodness. Still, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. This sacred land had become a birthplace of mayhem when it was supposed to be a resting place. After a few minutes, Xander realized he had been staring at Lilith's headstone without moving at all.

If you could only see the way things have turned out. You'd definitely have a thing or two to say to everyone. He told Lilith in his heart.

Then his black eyes moved to the other headstone and about a billion questions popped into his head one after the other. Why did she have to come crawling back after he had said his goodbyes so finally? What was he supposed to do with an empty grave and stupid rock with a living person's name on it? What was he supposed to do with the living person??

What he always did. Deal with it as he went along.

As of that morning, the peace treaty had officially been called off. The war was back on. What else could Xander possibly do except deal with each problem as it arrived? The same thing that he was doing right now. Filling in a grave and trying to track down Bentley before Heaven did.

After toiling away for some time, Xander gave up and flopped face-down into the dirt, burying himself in its deep, earthy scent.

He was tired. He was lonely. The life he had built for himself over the last century was probably going to collapse soon. He'd spent so many years using vengeance as one of his chief character traits but now that one of the people he was so desperate to avenge had risen once again like some stupid phoenix from her own ashes, what exactly was he supposed to do? Disappear back into the wings and let his sister resume her soliloquy of destruction? Or keep desperately tap-dancing in the spotlight until he finally booed himself off the stage and out of the story?

Xander didn't want to think about such things anymore. He didn't want to feel any resentment towards Bentley for something that had always been out of control. Instead, he would be better off clearing his mind by doing something he knew he was good at --killing angels. Xander pulled himself back up from the ground, opened his wings, and flew off.

...

Rain was hammering down on the concrete. Each droplet bounced when it hit the already soaking street, creating a shimmering haze of water just centimeters off the ground. Overhead, the neon lights of all the business signs and advertisements stained the puddles and the spraying air a bright combination of reds, blues, and purples. The sight was pretty, but in a rather cold sort of way.

A black umbrella stood still amidst the deluge. It had become slick and shiny with all the water dumping on it, to the point where it was reflecting the neon signs on it's own. Beneath it, two demons had met up and were now watching the rain as it continued to pour.

"Is this really the best place?" Smythe asked. "Tis' a bit chilly, don't you think?"

"It's fine. I really don't mind getting wet," Xander replied.

"Alright. But don't blame me if you catch a cold," She said, "Promise me you won't get yourself killed?"

"When have I ever?"

"Fair enough." Smythe reached into a bag she had tied at her waist. "Here, brought you these."

She pulled out a set of knives.

Well, they were sort-of knives. Each one was more like a cross between a dagger and a scimitar, with a curved blade and red hilt. There weren't any other weapons in the world designed quite like them. Mostly because they were made by Xander's own hands. And they were made at a time where he really did not know what he was doing, so they ended up coming out a little wonky compared to proper, more traditional dual blades. But they matched at least, and the balance turned out to be just perfect for Xander's fighting technique, so he hung onto them.

But when the war was called off, Hell made the decision that all major and personal weapons had to go through profiling and inventory procedures. So he'd lost track of them for a few years. Who knew that Smythe had kept them all this time? Now that she was giving them back, he almost laughed just at the sight of them.

"I've already done all the paperwork required to give them back to you," She said, "You'll need to sign a couple papers when you get back to Hell, but we don't have to mention anything about this little fight of yours,"

"Wow, thank you." He took his knives off her hands.

It was the first time he'd held them in a while. There was no magical energy or spiritual connection he shared with the weapons, but it still felt nice. Xander twirled them in his hands a couple of times. Partially to get used to the feeling holding them again, and partially just to be dramatic. He was back in his element, finally after all these years.

"And you're sure someone's gonna show up?" Smythe asked,

"After what happened earlier? I'm certain," He told her, "Camael hates my guts now. I'd be surprised if she didn't set her sniffer-dogs loose the moment I left the church,"

"Alright. Be careful," She said, "Do you want the umbrella or nah?"

"Nah. It'll just be a hassle. See you soon, Smythe,"

Smythe nodded, then disappeared. The moment she was gone, the shower of rain engulfed the remaining demon, soaking him through to the bone. But he didn't care. He was about to have some real fun again.

Xander waited there for about five minutes. Briefly he considered going around the corner and picking up some street-food, but then he remembered it was the middle of the night and most vendors were closed. So he just stayed in place, pacing around like a tiger in his den. Xander closed his eyes.

After a couple seconds, he finally heard it. The thing he was waiting for. A slight whistling, nearly inaudible beneath the sound of the hammering rain. A ghostly hand moved quick as a flash, catching something in mid air just inches away from his face. His big black eyes opened, focusing on a singular, symmetrical golden weapon. It was small, delicate, and hardly any larger than an arrowhead. Seeing it, Xander almost smiled.

Then another little whistle came from somewhere within the dark street. However, this time, it wasn't alone. Xander barely had enough time to properly draw his daggers and block a shower of the little weapons. With a soft, yet dangerous jingling, ten or so golden blades rained down to the ground, followed by another chorus of whistles. So Xander blocked again, deflecting again and again until his unseen attacker finally seemed to run out of things to throw.

Xander sighed. What a lame assassination attempt.

"Throwing knives? What makes you think these little things could possibly hurt me?" He asked the rainy night air.

He was answered by another set of golden projectiles, effortlessly deflected.

"This is child's play," Said Xander, "If you actually wanna fight, just come out and fight,"

Three white figures appeared in the darkness. Xander smiled.

Finally.

Out of the three, the angel in the center was the first to attack. She raised her blade and lunged forward. Xander reacted quickly, stopping her attack with the knife in his right hand. Then he hooked his other arm down, aiming to strike, but it was intercepted by one of the other angels. Sensing no easy way out of the situation, Xander spun his body quickly, throwing both his attackers backwards.

The angels had formed a sort of triangle, surrounding him from all sides. Despite this, he was far from being at a disadvantage.

All three advanced at once, so as to pin him in the middle. But Xander was too quick and too brutal. He engaged one, pretending to stab forward, then allowed her to block him. Using the brief window of opportunity, he ducked and rolled behind her. When he stood back up, he blocked an attack from the angel to his right, then slashed across the stomach of the first. She fell to the ground, already dead.

It wasn't long before the third angel took her place, thrusting his blade forward directly at Xander's throat. The demon leaned backwards, allowing the flash of gold to pass just inches over his face like a of game of deadly limbo. Then he brought his knife down on the angel's outstretched arm, causing him to cry out in pain. But his scream was cut off by Xander's other knife stabbing itself into the back of his neck. His body was cast aside, landing with a splash in the deep river of a street.

Having just watched two of their companions killed so easily, the remaining angel made the wise decision not to attack again. Xander took the opportunity to intimidate them further by using his jacket to wipe the blood off his knives.

"Do you wanna give me a go, or would you prefer to keep your life?" He asked.

The angel didn't reply.

"I know you didn't come across me just by chance." Xander glanced up, "I'll give you a five second head start on running if you tell me which of your pack leaders sent you to sniff me out."

The angel's grip on their golden blade tightened.

"Where is Bentley Hellbourne?" Was all they said.

What is she, Carmen Sandiego? Xander thought. Then he quickly decided he didn't want an answer to that question.

"Let me guess," He said, "You're here under Camael's orders?"

"Wrong,"

"Oh?" Xander raised an eyebrow, "Okay, who else is after her then?"

"Nathaniel," The angel replied.

Nathaniel? Was there a Nathaniel in Heaven? Xander wasn't sure whether or not he had heard the name before.

"Who?" He asked.

He honestly did not know and had asked in all seriousness. However, the angel's eyes suddenly started to glow in anger as if Xander had just insulted them.

"Are you really this stupid, or do you just want me to kill you?" They spat,

If the angel wasn't gonna tell him, it wasn't gonna tell him. Oh well. Might as well keep the fight going while his blood was still pumping. Xander started casually twirling his knives around in his hands.

"I'm pretty stupid for a demon," He said, "Thankfully, that still puts me miles above the intelligence of an angel,"

This was the tipping point. With a shout, the angel lunged forward aiming for Xander's face. He didn't even blink before intercepting, then deflecting the attack. Even though he still had an entire hand free to stab forward and end the battle then and there, Xander was now interested in talking for once. He landed a kick directly in the center of the angel's chest and sent it flying backwards.

"Your fighting technique isn't the worst I've seen," Said Xander, "What Angelic Generation is Nathaniel part of?"

Angels were old... obviously. Some were millions of years old, some were mere thousands. So as to not bother with all the numbers, their ages were divided into what they called "Generations". This had little to do with an angelic parent, but rather the age in which the angel was born. For example, Bentley and Atticus were both around ten thousand years old, and were therefore categorized as part of the third Angelic Generation. Whereas older angels, such as Michael and Lucifer who were in their millions, were the first of the first. Actual ages had little effect on angels' maturity or who they were allowed to associate with, but they were boxes they could file themselves in. So naturally they were a method of identification.

"He's part of the Second," Said the angel.

So this Nathaniel was older than Bentley. Probably around the same age as Camael, then.

"Hm. Is he now? Why have I never heard of him before?" Xander asked.

"Because ears like yours are unworthy of even hearing such a name!" The angel charged again.

Sighing, Xander ducked down, hooked the angel's foot with his arm, then flipped them onto the ground. Their angelic blade fell to the ground with a watery clang. Without even thinking, Xander kicked it directly upwards into the air as though it were nothing more than a hacky sack. Then he sheathed one of his knives and used his free hand to catch the blade before it hit the ground.

Meanwhile, the angel was still laying in a puddle at his feet.

"You've gone quiet again?" Xander asked, "That's disappointing. I was looking forward to hearing the rest of the insults you had for me,"

Now that they were unarmed, they didn't really pose a threat. So Xander turned his back and started slowly pacing away while he continued.

"Oh well. I guess if you wanna run away, that's fine too. I did promise I'd give you a head start,"

Suddenly, the demon froze. A prickle ran up his spine and he spun around just in time to block another barrage of golden throwing knives. However, he wasn't quite quick enough and one managed to slip past his knife. A sharp sting came from the side of his cheek, followed by a burning sensation. Xander's hand flew to his face.

He was bleeding. They had actually managed to make him bleed.

The angel must have seen the murderous look in the demon's eye. With an expression of terror, they immediately scrambled to their feet and started running in the opposite direction. Xander didn't follow.

One... He thought.

Two...

The grip on the angelic blade tightened.

Three...

Four...

Several meters away now, the angel spread their wings and prepared to take off, apparently aiming for the roof of a nearby building.

Five!

There was a whish! and the angel was impaled through the chest by it's own blade. It fell forward onto the pavement, completely dead.

Xander was still standing in the same spot. He hadn't moved an inch. Seeing how no reinforcements showed up, he figured this must be it for the fight. Shame. He was hoping for something a little bit intense, but this would have to do. Fighting to the death wasn't as fun if his opponent hadn't earned their own demise. His second blade returned to it's sheath, and Xander let out a sigh.

Then he collapsed onto one knee, gasping in pain.

The burning sensation coming from the wound in his cheek had suddenly flared up again, this time infinitely more painful than the last. It was as if acid was pulsating through the veins beneath the skin of his face, around his left eye and up through his temple. Instinctively, he held his hand against the cut, channeling some healing energy into it, but it was no use and the pain continued to spread, making its way deeper into his skull towards his brain.

One of the little golden throwing knives lay helpless in the water beside him. Xander grasped it and held it up to the light, all the while ignoring the incessant throb in his head. Sure enough, upon close examination, he could see a thin layer of Holy Water Poison painted across the edge of the blade.

Holy Water Poison, was basically just any functional poison with a bit of holy water added to it. Demons were immune to most man-made types of poison, but holy water was lethal in high doses. Therefore, when holy water was added, it essentially "blessed" the toxicity of the poison, making it effective against demons. Despite this, it had never been commonly used during the war. Who would have guessed that this plain little angel could use such sneaky tricks.

Xander was pissed off, but still impressed. He let out a pained laugh, clenching the throwing knife in his fist until it became nothing but fine, golden powder. Then he looked up at the body of the angel who had thrown it.

His entire skull felt like it was on fire. The poison had spread to his brain already, causing waves upon waves of the burning pain to echo throughout his entire body in time with his heartbeat. It was becoming too much. He couldn't handle it anymore. He really couldn't.

Xander fell onto his side.

His body was drenched all the way through. His inky-black hair swirled amidst the rain, trailing on the concrete and sticking to the side of his pale, bloodstained face. Through the blur of rushing street water, Xander's black eyes could only reflect the gradually dimming glow of those colorful neon signs. He smiled slightly...

Then everything went dark.

Somewhere off in the distance, two voices echoed back and forth. At first, they were too far away for Xander to make out any proper words. But after a few seconds, they seemed to have gotten closer.

"Jesus, look at the state of him. How long was he laying there in the rain for?" Asked one.

"Here's some water. Make sure he drinks it," Said the other.

Suddenly, Xander felt someone grab him by his hair and tilt his head back. His lips were forced open and a liquid was poured into his mouth. Then a rough hand slapped down across his face.

"Swallow," The first voice commanded.

Without thinking, Xander obeyed. It was only as the water was rushing down his throat that he realized he was no longer wallowing in the middle of a soggy street. With a groan, he shifted his head, feeling some sort of squishy cushion beneath his aching body. After a little while, he managed to open one of his eyes.

The person standing above him was extremely blurry. But he could tell she was familiar at least.

"Bentley?" He said, his voice still rough.

"Definitely not," Said the person.

Then she came into focus. The person who had just forced the water down his throat appeared no older than thirteen or fourteen, with ringlet hair pulled back into a set of ribbons. Her two bright, orange eyes were fixated on him with a rather unimpressed glow. Nope. Not Bentley.

"Yardley?" He said, "Smythe?"

Now that he could properly see again, Xander blinked around. The three of them were all packed into the main area of a small, one-bedroom apartment. More accurately, it was Smythe's apartment. Xander was propped up on a wide leather couch. The air was filled with a strong herbal smell. Over in the kitchenette, beneath the warm low-hanging lights, Smythe herself was pounding at something in a mortar bowl. Hearing his voice, she glanced up and nodded.

"Good. You're awake." She marched up to him and immediately started smearing the contents of the bowl all over the left side of his face. "You weren't returning my calls so I figured I'd best check in. I wasn't expecting to find you face down right where I left you."

Xander winced slightly as the herbs stung the fresh injury on his cheek.

"Yeah, well it's not my fault those little shits had a bunch of Holy Water Poison up their sleeves," He said, "Since when has Heaven resorted to using hidden weapons?"

"They've had almost a century to invent new ways of killing us," Smythe replied.

"Can't wait til the next council meeting," Yardley lazily stretched her freckled arms. "Eleazar's gonna be going off about how we should have spent these last few years reevaluating our battle strategy, coming up with good offensive tactics and whatnot."

"I'm worried about what else Heaven might bring to the battlefield." Smythe finished applying the medicine and returned to the kitchen, talking as she went. "Holy Water Poison might just be the start of something worse."

Having felt the strength return to his body somewhat, Xander pulled himself up into a proper seated position. The chill from the rain was still set deep in his body and there was still traces of water in his hair and in his clothes. It seemed like he really hadn't been indoors for all that long. A rush of gratefulness welled up inside him. Thank the universe for Smythe.

"It's alright, Smythe. I'm still alive, aren't I?" He said with a smile, "Plus, we've always been able to handle whatever Heaven's thrown our way."

"I know. I'm just... thinking. That's all."

She returned from the kitchen holding a damp cloth. It appeared as though the herbs had sat for long enough and now needed to be wiped away. Smythe bent down and started scrubbing his skin, removing the medicine and the last traces of blood that had stuck on throughout the rain. Xander could have easily done this himself, but it wasn't often that he received this kind of gentle attention, so he just stayed quiet and let her do her work.

"Yeah well we've never had to handle a freaking lost fragment of God's soul before," Said Yardley.

"That's what I'm thinking about. What do we do now that thing is in the angels' hands?

Xander considered her words carefully for a moment before speaking up.

"Actually," He told them, "If the higher powers of Heaven had the- the soul fragment, we would definitely know by now,"

He had almost said "the 'it'" out loud, before he realized neither of the other two would understand what he was talking about.

"What do you mean?" Asked Yardley, "We all saw Atticus run off with it,"

"Exactly," Said Xander. "He ran off. Camael was right there, but he chose to take it and chase after Bentley instead of handing it to her,"

Smythe's hand paused.

"Do you think Bentley might have it, then?" She wondered.

He shook his head.

"I feel like if the two met face to face, all four realms would have heard about it already. But there's a chance. It's best if we keep both our searches going, just to be sure."

...