Summary: Xander's roadtrip goes four dimensional, and un-living.
Disclaimer: If you think I own this, I have a bridge to sell you.
Feedback: Why not?
In this fic, Xander never got laid before he went trippin'. Make of this what you will. That condition is part of what makes the Hellsing vamps vamp instead of ghoul.
Blame a plotbunny on this. If anyone wants to continue this, they're more than welcome to email me and ask.
The title comes from a couple of quotes -- "if you stare too long into the Abyss, the Abyss stares back," and "let those who hunt monsters beware lest they become monsters." I'm sure I'm misquoting somehow.
* * *
Having a conscience sucked, Xander decided. Why couldn't he just walk on by, like almost any other person?
He had lit out of Sunnydale right after Graduation on a roadtrip, to see all fifty states. Xander had had a bit of engine trouble right out of the gate, but asking his Uncle Rory to check the old Chevy first had cleared that up. He'd travelled through about two states so far, and had hit a snag on the third.
He'd found an infestation of the supernatural kind in Bumsville, wherever. It was a fairly forgettable town with a farm store, a small library, a glorified corner store and a fish and chip shop. The church was the largest building in town.
The church was the reason that Xander had stayed in the town for longer than it took him to refuel outside the farm store. He set the pump going once he put in '$20' on the stand, then went inside. Night had just fallen, and after he'd paid for the petrol he was planning on parking by the roadside and sleeping in the back seat.
"Hi, twenty dollars of petrol for the blue Chevy outside?," Xander prompted the man behind the counter.
"Right, nice car," the man said. "Sounds like it runs well, too."
"I got my uncle to check it before I left Sunnydale," Xander explained. "Didn't sound too healthy before that. I got given it by the church vicar back home when they got a new car."
"There's somethin' just ain't right about our new vicar," the shopkeeper complained, while he rung up the bill. "Doesn't set foot outside the door, doesn't come visit us, doesn't shop at my friend Bill's corner shop..."
"Sounds of the weird," Xander agreed. "Here's a twenty for the petrol, and a five for the food."
The shopkeeper laughed out loud at this. "That ain't food, that's sugar water and more sugar!"
"Works for me," Xander said amiably. "Where's the church, anyway?"
"About two blocks that way and to the left," the shopkeeper said. "Big steeple. Can't miss it."
Xander thanked the man, who reminded him of Principal Flutie somewhat, then put the petrol cap back on the car. He pulled away from the farm store, and decided to check out the church. Xander wasn't in any hurry to get where he was going.
"Dammit," Xander muttered under his breath. "I bet it's a vampire. Damn conscience."
* * *
Xander stepped through the large double doors. The only light inside the holy building was from the numerous lit candles.
"Hi, is there anyone here?," he said softly.
"The Church welcomes everyone," a voice said. Xander looked up, to find a man in a grey preacher's suit up behind the altar, a hand on the Bible. His face was narrow, and his fangs showed as he smiled.
Xander pulled out his stake from the back of his pants. "Vampire."
"Human," the pretend preacher sneered.
The Sunnydalian strode up to the front, expecting a reasonably hard fight. He'd taken some training in the soft martial arts, and expected to be able to beat the vampire. Most were too confident in their strength to win against someone trained in the Art.
The vampire moved, far more swiftly than he'd ever seen one move back in Sunnydale. It started to lower it's mouth to his struggling body as the double doors opened again. Xander elbowed the pretend preacher as it moved him around to it's front as a human shield. He was held too tightly to do anything else.
"Pathetic. I can't tell you apart from all the trash bags on the sidewalks."
Xander's eyes shot to the back of the church, where a man in a red coat and hat was grinning. He had yellow John Lennon glasses on. Even to Xander's atrophied fashion sense, the clothes screamed 'vampire'.
"I wanna go on record as saying this situation is /bad/," Xander muttered. "Where's the Slayer when you need her?"
"A dog of the humans like you can't hurt me," the preacher vampire said.
"I serve them for my own reasons," the vamp in the red coat said.
Xander let the pleas of the vamp holding him wash over him. He had no illusions of surviving this encounter.
The vampire in the red coat locked eyes on him as he pulled out a large handgun that resembled a Desert Eagle, somewhat.
'Are you a virgin?'
He could hear the vamp in his head. Giles had never mentioned that.
"What the hell kinda question is that?!," Xander screamed at the man. Here he was, stuck between two vampires, and one of them asks that?!
'Answer me, dammit!'
"Yes... I AM!," Xander roared back. "Hurry up and kill this Angelus wannabe!"
The preacher looked at Xander before the vampire in the red coat fired. The bullet ripped through Xander's chest, expanding as it left his flesh and continued through the heart of the vampire that held him. His mouth was starting to fill with blood, from where he had bit the side of his mouth.
"Unfortunately, the wound is so large you have virtually no chance of surviving," the vampire said. "I had to shoot his heart, so I shot through your liver."
Liver? Xander thought you needed your liver to live. Heh. A pun.
The vampire grinned. "How do you feel about eternity? And not as one of those demonic trash bags, either?"
Xander refused to leave this earth while demons still roamed it.
* * *
Once Alucard finished draining the brown haired man, he looked around the church. He felt something wrong, but couldn't put his finger on it.
Ah! There it was! Magic. It had been awhile since he'd seen that pattern.
"Integra will be annoyed," Alucard whispered. A grin crossed his face as he considered how his master would react.
Alucard hated this spell. The only counter he knew of was only good for himself. Hellsing's pet vampire quickly cut his arm, letting blood flow into the brownhaired man's mouth, then escaped the trap that the false preacher had set.
Hellsing's exterminator left the church. Alexander Harris left the era, sent back in time several hundred years.
* * *
I know nothing of what smalltown america has -- I'm using my experience of NZ towns. Also, I don't know what slang you americans have for petrol and the like... Sorry.