She looked up. Why not solve two problems at once?
The Guardian raised his right arm. In his hand he held a dagger. But as he thrust that arm downward, the princess caught it with her right hand, redirected it, and twisted the Guardian’s arm behind his back. With her left hand, she cupped the surprised Guardian’s face.
“I do,” she said, determined.
Then she kissed him. She felt the life flow from him into her.
Within seconds, it was over. And the Guardian is a mystical creature. His life should suffice for a long time. At least, she hoped so.
After moving the now-mummified corpse into one of the stalls, she went back outside to see Xander sitting nervously on one of the benches. Upon seeing her, he stood up.
“I have thought,” she said. “The dance. I will go with you. Gladly.”
Xander broke into a huge smile. He took her hand in his, and they walked on down the hallway.
Now, at last, I can be happy.
CHAPTER 6
Ampata came into the bedroom from the bathroom and said, “Buffy, I cannot find lipstick.”
Buffy looked up. Ampata was in costume and she almost looked like the perfect Incan princess. The only thing missing was, in fact, lipstick. “Oh, you can borrow one of mine,” she said. “There should be one on the desk.”
Ampata looked at the trunks that took up what little floorspace had remained in the room. “What is that?”
“The station sent the rest of your stuff.”
“Oh, of course. I forgot all about it. I will unpack it later.”
“No worries. I can do it.”
Ampata frowned and looked over Buffy, who was wearing a T-shirt and overalls. “But you must get ready for the dance.”
And thank you for the reminder, Buffy thought bitterly, but bit back saying it out loud. It wasn’t Ampata’s fault that her Watcher was a mean, tweedy old guy with no understanding of the finer things in life. Like dances. And fun.
“I’m not going.”
“Why not?” Ampata sounded stunned.
“I have work to do. Crime Club work. It’s really nothing for you to worry about.”
She smiled. “I am not worried. Thanks to Xander.”
“He seems very happy around you.”
“I am happy, too,” she said. “He has a way of making the milk come out of my nose.”
Buffy grinned. “And that’s good?”
“From making me laugh,” Ampata explained as she walked over to Buffy’s desk. She rummaged around the desk and found some cherry red lipstick. “This one?”
“Oooh, no, that clashes. There should be a gold one in there somewhere.”
“Thank you,” Ampata said with a warm smile. “You are always thinking of others before yourself. You remind me of someone from very long ago. The Inca princess.”
Buffy liked the sound of that. “Cool. A princess.” She got up and walked over to Ampata’s luggage.
“They told her that she was the only one, that only she could defend her people from the netherworld.”
As Ampata spoke, Buffy took a quick look in the suitcase—and was surprised to find boys’ briefs in Ampata’s luggage. What? Then she noticed that Ampata had opened the drawer where Buffy kept her stakes and crucifixes. Knew I should’ve moved that stuff to the closet.
“Out of all the girls in her generation, she was the only one—”
“Chosen,” Buffy finished while closing the drawer, suddenly not liking the sound of that so much. How much does she know?
“You know the story?” Ampata asked, surprised.
Buffy was grateful for that surprise, though between that and the male underwear, she was starting to seriously wonder about this girl. Aloud she said simply, “It’s fairly familiar.” She saw the lipstick hiding under some necklaces, including the cross necklace Angel had given her the first time they met, and handed it to Ampata.
“She was sixteen, like us,” Ampata said as she took the tube from Buffy. “She was offered as a sacrifice and went to her death. Who knows what she had to give up to fulfill her duty to others? What chance at love?”
Buffy thought about Angel. True, theirs was an odd relationship, a Slayer loving a vampire with a soul. But they had a chance. It was possible. Besides, she’d already beaten one prophecy that said she would die. Clinging to that, she said, “Who knows?”
She walked over to the larger trunk and said, “I’ll just unpack the rest of your stuff for you.”
Just as she started to open the trunk, however, the doorbell rang. Letting the lid fall, she said, “That’s Xander and Willow. I’ll get it.”
Buffy dashed downstairs and opened the door to a cowboy. It was Xander, dressed like Clint Eastwood in A Fistful of Dollars. Buffy wondered if he’d gone so far as to wear the metal plate under his poncho in order to stop bullets.
Speaking in a monotone through teeth clenched over an unlit cheroot, Xander said, “I have come for the dance.”
“And what culture are you?” Buffy asked with a grin.
“I am from the country of Leone.” Then Xander removed the cheroot and returned to his normal voice. “It’s in Italy, pretending to be Montana.” He looked up and down at Buffy. “And what are you from, the country of white trash?”
Sighing, Buffy said, “New lineup. You and Willow are taking Ampata. Giles and I are hunting mummies.” She peered past Xander, but there was no Willow to be found. “Where’s you and Willow?”
“She’s not coming with us.”
“Oh,” Buffy said, nodding. “On a date. Romance, lips.”
Xander looked like he was about to reply, but something caught his eye on the staircase. Buffy followed his gaze to see Ampata walking down the stairs. The lipstick definitely was the final missing piece to make her look gorgeous.
“Hello, Xander,” Ampata said.
“Ah, yiyuh.”
“I can translate American Salivating Boy Talk,” Buffy said as Ampata came to the foot of the staircase. “He said you’re beautiful.”
“Hajya,” Xander said to Buffy.
“You’re welcome,” Buffy replied.
Joyce Summers came in then. “Ampata, don’t you look wonderful? I wish you could talk my daughter into going with you.”
“I tried,” Ampata said. “But she is very stubborn.”
Chuckling, Mom said, “I’m glad someone else sees that.”
“Well, good night, then,” Ampata said, moving to the doorway.
Xander put his hand on Buffy’s shoulder and whispered, “Be careful.”
“I will,” she replied in similarly hushed tones. Hopefully, Mom didn’t hear, or at least figured it’s weird teenage code. “Hey,” she added as Xander turned to leave. When he stopped and turned back, she said, “You look good.”
He smiled, then went out with Ampata.
Mom walked up behind Buffy, watching them go off together to Xander’s mother’s car. “Look at that,” Mom said. “Two days in America, and Ampata already seems like she belongs here. She’s really fitting in.”
“Yeah,” Buffy said wistfully. “How about that?”
Cordelia went into the Bronze and saw that no one else had gone for the Hawaiian look. Good, she thought. She had no worries that she would be anything less than the most gorgeous person there.
Especially given her outfit: a blue bikini top with a stylized white flower pattern, a matching sarong, a pink-and-white lei, and a pink hibiscus flower in her hair. Still within the bounds of decency, but showing more than enough to put her fabulous body on display.
Of course, Mother had to be annoying and point out that Hawaii wasn’t really another culture, since it was technically part of the United States. Cordelia thought that was silly. After all, she thought, in Hawaii they look different, talk funny, and have weird names. As far as she was concerned, that made it another culture. If it came to that, Cordelia felt the same way about Texas.
As she entered, she caught sight of Willow and had to keep herself f
rom laughing. Then, realizing there was no reason not to, she went ahead and laughed. Willow had dressed in an eskimo outfit, complete with furry hood and spear. With all the people in the Bronze, it had to be like a million degrees in the outfit.
Cordelia had always thought that the smarter you were, the more clueless you were. How else to explain why Willow, who was one of the school brainiacs, would wear so dorky and concealing an outfit?
Deciding that laughter wasn’t nearly enough, Cordelia said as she passed by, “Ooh, near faux pas. I almost wore the same thing.”
Willow just stood there, holding her spear. It’s possible she made a face, but it was hard to tell under all that fur.
Sometimes, Cordelia thought, it’s just too easy.
She found Gwen sitting by the staircase, dressed like something Japan-ish. On the stage, Devon’s band was playing a song that was dance-able, but not obnoxiously loud or fast.
Gwen asked, “Hey, where’s Sven?”
Cordelia groaned. She’d managed to go a whole minute without thinking about her big, dumb, Swedish appendage. “I keep trying to ditch him, but he’s like one of those dogs you leave at the Grand Canyon on vacation. It follows you back across four states.”
As if on cue, Sven, dressed like a Viking warrior, walked up to her. “See? My own speechless, human boomerang.”
“He’s kind of cute,” Gwen said. “Maybe it’s nice, skipping all that small talk.”
Gwen had a point, Cordelia had to admit, remembering some lame conversations with Devon. Still . . . “Small talk? How about simple instructions?” She gestured at Sven. “Get punch-y? You? Fruit drinky?”
Sven didn’t move.
Gwen got up and grabbed Sven’s arm. “He can follow me.”
Willow stood sweltering in her furry outfit. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. She had researched a variety of esquimaux tribes, put together an authentic Inuit parka made from something that looked as much like caribou pelt as she could manage using materials available in a suburban mall, and even modeled her spear after an old engraving she’d found in one of Giles’s books.
It never occurred to her that wearing a fur-lined parka made of imitation caribou pelt in the middle of a crowded Bronze would be the textbook definition of uncomfortable.
And she was here by herself. True, it was her idea to come by herself so that Xander would be happy, but that didn’t exactly cheer her up.
Neither had Cordelia’s cheap shot. She tried not to let Cordelia get to her. All Cordelia had going for her was the fact that she was incredibly popular and drop-dead gorgeous, whereas Willow had—
Well, she was sure she had something Cordelia didn’t. If it took till the day she died, she was sure she’d find it.
Then Ampata and Xander walked in.
Willow, unable to see past the faux fur lining of her hood, had to pivot her torso in order to see what everyone else was looking at. What they looked at was Ampata, who looked simply gorgeous in her Inca princess outfit. Not only that, but it looked authentic, as Willow had learned from spending a day perusing various texts on the ancient Incas.
Looking down at her own, bulky outfit, she sighed and muttered, “I guess I should have worn something sexy.”
Xander caught sight of Willow and led Ampata over to her. He was dressed as a cowboy, and he looked wonderful, too. But then, to Willow, he always did.
“Wow,” Willow said, “you guys look great.”
“I love your costume,” Ampata said. “It’s very authentic.”
Well, at least she noticed, Willow thought, but it was small comfort. “Thanks,” she muttered.
“Yeah,” Xander agreed, “you look, uh—snug.”
“That’s what I was going for,” Willow said, hoping she sounded convincing. “Where’s Buffy?”
“Crime Club stuff,” Xander said quickly. “Giles had something that had to be done right away. You know how these faculty advisers get.”
Willow tried to nod, found she couldn’t in the hood, and so said, “Oh.”
The song ended, which Willow only noticed because people applauded. She honestly hadn’t really noticed the band. After the applause died down, they started a slow dance number.
Xander looked at Ampata. “Do you, uh—would you like to, uh, you know . . .”
“I’d love to dance,” Ampata said, saving Xander some embarrassment.
Smiling, Xander led her to the dance floor.
Again, Willow sighed.
Oz scanned the crowd. This particular song was pretty straightforward. It was a ballad with no changes and a bunch of open chords that Oz could pretty much do in his sleep. Oz didn’t much care for ballads, but at a dance like this, you had to cater to the crowd.
Oz scoped out the people. He’d never seen so many costumes before when it wasn’t Halloween. He had to admit, it looked pretty cool.
Two things grabbed his attention. The first was hard to miss, ’cause everyone else was looking at them, too: a couple who were dancing in the middle of the floor. The woman was dressed up as some kind of South American goddess, and the guy was a cowboy. Most people were just dancing normally, but these two were completely locked into each other. It was like something out of West Side Story.
The second thing was just beyond them. It was a girl wearing an eskimo suit. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
Oz had seen the couple on the floor and moved on. But this girl completely—and uncharacteristically—had him riveted.
They had gotten to an instrumental part, and Oz backed away from the mic and leaned over to Devon. “Hey. That girl. Who is she?”
“She’s an exchange student. I think she’s from South America.”
Oz shook his head. “No, not her. The eskimo.”
Devon shrugged.
Who is that girl?
The princess had never been so happy in her life. True, the music was a trifle strange, but she found she liked it. And ultimately, it didn’t matter. The important thing was that she had Xander in her arms. She liked how it felt.
Her heart started racing as he leaned in for a kiss.
As she angled her head to accept the kiss, she saw her hands, currently resting on Xander’s shoulders.
They were starting to wither.
No!
The Guardian’s energy should have lasted for days, not hours. Something was wrong. Maybe because the Guardian is not truly human.
The reasons didn’t matter. She had to get away from Xander before he saw.
Before he could kiss her, she broke the embrace and ran away.
She tried to keep her hands at her sides, counting on the poor lighting in this place to keep anyone from noticing.
Gazing quickly around the room, she saw a boy sitting alone on the staircase. She didn’t recognize the culture he was supposed to represent, nor did she much care. All that mattered was that he was alone and so would be easy prey.
It took only a few moments and a bright smile to lure the boy—Jonathan was his name—into the backstage area. She removed the straw hat he wore as part of his costume and started stroking his hair.
Jonathan was a bit nervous. “Your hands feel kinda—rough. Aren’t you with Xander?”
In as seductive a voice as she could muster, the princess asked, “Does it look like I am with Xander?”
She leaned in to kiss him.
“Ampata!” called Xander’s voice from nearby.
No, my love, the princess thought in anguish, not now!
However, the damage had been done. At the sound of his voice, Jonathan said, “That’s my cue to leave,” and dashed off.
After Ampata ran off the dance floor, Xander stared after her, completely confused.
“Okay, at least I can rule out something I said,” he muttered. They hadn’t said a word since they started dancing.
Xander thought they hadn’t needed to.
He went after her, but couldn’t see her in the crowd. He did pass by Willow, though, who
hadn’t moved. “Have you seen Ampata?”
Willow made an odd sort of motion.
Frowning, Xander asked, “What was that?”
“I shrugged.”
Note to self, Xander thought, shrugs and eskimo parkas don’t mix. “Next time you should probably say, ‘shrug,’ ” Xander said, then went off.
As he did so, he heard Willow say, “Sigh.”
Working his way through the crowd, Xander caught sight of one of Cordelia’s legion of followers dressed as a medieval Japanese woman. She was talking with Sven, the Swedish student who was staying at the Chase house.
“I thought this exchange student thing would be a great deal,” Sven was saying, “but look what I got stuck with. ‘Memento’? ‘Punchy fruity drinky’? Is Cordelia even from this country?”
Under any other circumstances, Xander would have relished overhearing this. As it was, he filed it away for future abusing-Cordy purposes.
Now, though, he had to find Ampata. For the first time in a life filled with rejection, things were actually going well between Xander and a girl. He was damned if he was going to let this one go without the biggest fight of his life.
He went to the back hallway, calling out Ampata’s name.
After a minute, he found her. She seemed somewhat out of sorts. “There you are. Why’d you run away?”
“Because—” Her voice broke. “I do not deserve you.”
Xander gasped. “You think you don’t deserve me?” He laughed. “Man, I love you.”
So caught up was he in amazement that a girl would actually think she didn’t deserve him that it took him a moment to realize what he had said.
Ampata turned away. Tears poured down her cheeks.
“Are those tears of joy? Pain? Revulsion?”
“I am very happy. And very sad.”
She only sounded sad. “Then talk to me,” Xander said. “Let me know what’s wrong.”
“I can’t,” she said, and fell into his arms, crying into his shoulders.
“I know why you can’t tell me. It’s a secret, right?”
She looked up at him and nodded.
“And if you told me, you’d have to kill me?”
She started crying again.
Nice work there, Levity Boy. “Oh, that was a bad joke. The delivery was off, too, I’m sorry, I—”
THE XANDER YEARS, Vol. 1 Page 10