category: BtVS, multiple parts
timeframe: Seventh season, post "First Date"
characters: Xander, ensemble
warnings: religious imagery, adult language, some violence
rating: Teen/Adult
summary: Due to a very slight alteration in season 7's "First Date", the Other First plays its hand.

The First was not a god. It had none of the three Os, omnipotence, omniscience, or omnipresence, though it had the networking skills and charisma to make it seem that it did.

The First had one other thing that gave it its enormous advantage over lesser evils: experience. It was the First Evil, the first monstrous thing that had ever occurred in pre-Biblical history. It was the First who tempted the Morningstar to hate mankind, playing on the beautiful creature's monstrous ego to crack heaven in half. The First had been around for a LONG time, and knew ALL the right people.

So it knew, the moment the clouds swarmed in over Sunnydale on what was otherwise a normal night, exactly what was happening. It had seen day turn to night once, not long ago, in a similar fashion. It watched grimly as the night flashed briefly into day; the world illuminated with lightning that seemed to break open the thin shell of the universe.

The other First was angry.

The First Evil frowned. It knew that its actions might awaken the slumbering other, after all, the return of one slayer from the dead did not alter the balance THAT much, not in the grand scheme of everything, especially considering the action of doing so twisted what may have been the world's greatest white witch into a raging destroyer of worlds. Not directly, of course, but then, few things ever happened DIRECTLY. No, the tear I the balance that kept the Firsts out of the world had only barely been wide enough for it to tap its bringers. They in turn tore the balance further until it could seep through the cracks into this incorporeal presence.

Naturally, such a large rent in the balance couldn't help but allow more than just Evil through.

The deepening clouds, the suddenly driving rain, the night-to-day lightning, it meant one thing.

The First Good was playing its hand.

The First Evil turned its attention to its seal, and its anger grew. It was one of its own who'd tipped the scales. It watched as the Slayer and her pawns took off the cat-like creature's head. Served the pathetic beast right. It glanced at the ceiling, where it had hung that deliciously precarious creature, the vampire with a soul. From the wheel hung a young man, bleeding heavily from a wound just below his ribs.

Yes, when it came down to it, the scales were tipped by such tiny things. A couple of inches up or down, and the First Good needed have never awakened.

The First Evil stretched its awareness out across Sunnydale, then pushed it further still. It would have to find the perfect counter for that little pawn.

No. It wouldn't do to start underestimating the enemy now, at such a critical stage in the game. That one was no pawn, it was one of the four, the queen's knight.

And now, it seemed, that knight might just have been crowned king.

Xander's plan had worked beautifully. Walk into the Summers' house, upright and energetic despite the way his head was spinning and his chest, back, and shoulders ached. Declare intentions to reverse sexuality in loud, flamboyant, and ridiculously inappropriate manner, heading off any teasing about his most recent demonic date, while at the same time putting the group at ease and getting them to laugh. Then the focus could return to getting rid of the First, and his demon-magnet status would be forgotten. Mission accomplished.

Okay, so getting yelled at by Giles wasn't part of the plan, but it was something he'd gotten pretty used to. Giles lecturing them about the seriousness of the situation made it feel like old times. Now everyone was going back to whatever they'd been doing before the latest "rescue Xander" mission had begun, which, it seemed, mostly involved bickering over who got the bathroom next, or who's turn it was to prepare dinner for the house full of teenagers.

Xander leaned back into the couch, wincing slightly as the "bandage" slipped about an inch down his chest. Moments later, Buffy flopped down next to him, and the shifting of the cushions made him do it again.

"Hey." She leaned on his arm. "Are you really okay?"

Xander sighed. He tried to shrug, but his shoulders weren't really up to the task. "I'll be fine."

"But you're not right now."

Xander closed his eyes. "It would have been nice to not have had to be rescued from my date. Again."

"It is kind of traditional, though."

"Is it too much to ask to have a normal date? You know, one without the thrilling conclusion."

"Dunno." Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder. "I've tried the normal thing. It's not all it's cracked up to be. Remember Owen? Or Scott? Or," she shuddered, "Parker?"

"I still say he was a demon in disguise."

"Nope, just a massive jerk." Buffy picked her head up slightly, peering at his face. "And what about the girl who wished her boyfriend into a worm demon? She was normal . . . ish . . . ."

"And went running, screaming, in the other direction." Xander rolled his holder's wincing again. "Is that how normal people react to this stuff?"

"You didn't. Neither did Willow. Yeah, Cordelia did a lot of running and screaming, but she'd come running and screaming back to fight the bad guy. Eventually."

"That was her ego at work. No one messed with Cordy."

"I guess we're not meant for normal. I mean, look at Willow's track record. Robot demon, werewolf, witch. . . ."

"Only one of which tried to kill her. Well, Oz tried once or twice, but that wasn't really his fault."

"Anya didn't try to kill you."

Xander twisted his head to look at her. "Anya originally came here to punish me for cheating on Cordy. Who may very well have been planning to eviscerate me."

Buffy sat silently for a moment. "Ampata only wanted to kill you as a last resort."

Xander rolled his eyes. "Hey." He nudged her with his arm. "What about Robin?"

"What about him?"

"Isn't he on your normal list?"

"If you call a vampire-hunting high school principal out for vengeance cause his mom was a slayer normal, then yes, he's perfectly normal."

Xander blinked. "Really?"

"He told me tonight over dinner. 'Sides, I only dated him to see if he was evil."

"Yeah." A trace of bitterness entered Xander's voice. "After all, you're still yenning for Spike."

"I'm not yenning!" Buffy sat up, glaring at him. "I'm yen-free!"

"I was there, Buffy. Okay, so I may have been sort of woozy and half-conscious, but I saw you run over to him. I'd been stabbed–" Xander winced suddenly, his hand shooting to the throbbing wound in his chest. His energy and anger seemed to fall away. "You care about him. I can almost understand that. I don't like it, but I understand. But he's a vampire. There was no sun, not stake. . . . you had to know he'd be okay."

"Hey," Buffy put her hand on his arm. "I care about you, too."

"Nice way of showing it. Buffy, you didn't even come over to me until Robin decided to get your attention." Xander stood and started pacing, his hand still pressed against his ribs. His chest ached even more now, and he was starting to feel dizzy. "What, have I dated so many demons that you're immune to worrying about me?"

"Xander," Buffy started to stand.

"Let me finish!" Xander spun around and immediately regretted it. "I know you're worried and scared, Buffy, we all are. The First is . . ." He gasped. "It's HERE and its REAL–" He raised his hand up to his head, trying to remember what he was going to say. He suddenly felt sick. His arms and shoulders burned, and a tearing pain started in his hands and feet.

"Xander, you're–"

"And we don't know how to stop it, we don't . . ." Xander stumbled. "We don't. . . agh . . . ."

"Xander!" Buffy grabbed his arm as he started to collapse. Something dripped down his forehead as she lowered him back onto the couch. "You're bleeding."

"I was stabbed . . . ." He leaned his head back on the cushions. Closing his eyes suddenly seemed like a really good idea.

"No," Buffy lightly touched his forehead. Her fingertips, when she pulled her hand back, were red. "Look." She held out her hand, then lifted his own arm.

In the middle of his palm, just barely toward the wrist, was a hole, leaking dark blood.

"Oh." He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that would stop things from spinning. There was something familiar about the wound. "That's not good."

"Giles!" Buffy swung his legs up onto the couch, and he flopped over until he was lying down. "Does anything else hurt?"

"Feet."

She quickly unlaced his right boot, sliding it off. His sock was stained red. "Oh. Oh, Jesus."

"Buffy, what on Earth--" Giles stopped short in the doorway to the living room. "Did she do this?"

"Who?" Buffy carefully removed his other boot. "Oh, no, his date, just stabbed him. These . . . they just appeared, Giles, while we were talking." She took off his sock, inhaling sharply at the hole that seemed to go straight through his foot. "Oh, Jesus,"

"That–" Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose, then knelt down beside the couch to get a closer look. Xander opened his eyes. His skin had gone pale, and his gaze was shocky. "That may be truer than you know, Buffy."

"What?"

"Xander, listen to me." Giles slowly lifted the bandage off the carpenter's chest. "The weapon she used, what was it?"

Xander frowned. "A sword."

"Not a spear, then." Giles rocked back on his heels. "Are you Catholic, by any chance?"

Xander shook his head.

"Giles, talk to me. What's happening?" Buffy dragged her eyes away from the holes in her friend's hands. She shuddered.

Giles smiled slightly. "I think it'll be alright, Buffy. In fact, this may well work to our advantage." He held up a hand to ward off Buffy's protest. "Have you ever heard of a phenomenon called 'Stigmata'?"