Knights of the Intrepid

Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize.

A/N: I'm going on a retreat, since it was the only way I could get out of a family event, and I'll be spending the next two weeks with three good buddies of mine, along with one not-so-friendly buddy (DUCKY!), so, I decided to go ahead and post this one.

BTW: this was the original version that I changed up for The Greyest Knight. I decided to run this one, so, I will be deleting that story, unless someone wants it, then, have it. Just let me know, ok?

§◙§

It had waited.

For centuries on end, it had waited for a chance to make its way back into the world…to make its presence known once more…to make its bid for control over everything.

It had been there when the Lord of Hosts began launching his angelic armies, all led by his Archangels (Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael to name a few) in the first war that could actually be considered 'holy' in the history of time. It had known, then and there, that it had to prepare. It had to find a way to make the best of the situation…and it came up with a plan to survive.

It fed off a human…mixed their blood…ensured that purpose would remain.

Then, it took another human-a female human-and put his being, his essence, his soul into her body, evicting her own. The body morphed and took on a vestige liken to its own body, though smaller in form.

Its own body, which was at the bottom of Hell.

It had waited even longer for its children to begin to feed…to spawn…to kill. Once that had happened, he knew that it was only a matter of time before fate corrected the balance.

And, when the Shadow Men made their bid for a champion, a protector, a slayer…it had been there.

As time flowed, it slowly began to make its way into the soul of the Slayer, whoever she may be at the time, each time getting a little closer to its goal. With each girl, it came closer, each time, gaining more ground.

Then, its prayers were answered…when the Slayer became a girl by the name of Buffy Summers…a girl with deep seated power fixations, a girl who knew the importance of playing a game with people to get them to do what you want. A girl with a weak mind.

As time progressed, the soul became weakened, almost to a point beyond recognition as the girl had met her 'end.' The Slayer moved on, but, it stayed. It had taken its chance and gained ground quickly, though it did not reach its goal…but, the ground gained was more than it had ever had before. Upon her return, it knew that it had what it needed.

Then, the soul had left again, this time for much longer. She would have been bound for purgatory to await judgment, but, it had kept her Earth-bound for a spell or so. That was the opportunity it needed…the only opportunity it needed, for, upon her return, it was in.

Now, all it had to do…was wait some more.

§◙§

The Country of Tanzania; a former British Army fort constructed during World War II; September 23rd, 2016:

"Up…down…up…down," a group of people stood upon a platform, watching as a group of thirty or so Slayers did an early morning round of the Daily Dozens, modified for the Slayer physiology, making it more like the Daily Hundreds. One Slayer in particular, the only Slayer facing away from the group, was leading the group in their exercise.

The group of people upon the platform were members of the elite on that base. They were the head Watchers and Slayers on that base, taking care to keep watch on that group, as well as every other group that came to their base.

The first member of that group was a tall girl with reddish-brown hair, dressed in a pair of loose jeans and a white sleeveless shirt. Her name was Amy Madison, and she was the head honcho on base, the leader of the Slayer/Watcher/Wicca conclave that was there.

Beside her was a girl dressed in jeans similar to her own, with a red top and a white bandana on her forehead to keep the dust off. She had a utility belt around her waist, filled with assorted stakes, knives, and tools that she had found useful in her time as a Slayer. Her name was Vi. She was the Head Slayer on the complex, and, as such, commanded the most sway amongst the troops. She had grown up in the years after Sunnydale, and had become what Buffy and Faith both considered a model Slayer.

The last member of the group was a tall man dressed in desert camouflage with a pair of aviator sunglasses on and an AR-15 in his hands. Underneath the sunglasses, an eye patch could be seen over his right eye. His name was Xander Harris, and he was the only man on base without a position. He was the man that everyone knew they could count on…for nearly anything. He was an amateur Watcher, a decent mage (having long since overcome his discomfort with magic), a veteran of dealing with Slayers, and a man with more military training than anyone present on the base (he had convinced Riley, a Colonel in the Marines, to let him go through boot and Recon training without having to stay inside).

"They work well together," Vi said with a smile, "I trained them well."

"We all did," Amy said, "…Have them start a patrol around the underground after they hydrate."

"A team is already down there," Vi told her, "Another one isn't needed."

"…You sent a Slayer team without informing me," Amy asked, visibly steamed in a way that had nothing to do with the intense heat, "Why?"

"Because, you were busy sleeping," Vi sneered at her, "If you'd get off your ass and do something-"

"Do not speak to her that way," Xander interrupted, the first words he had said in near twenty-four hours, "She is the Watcher in-charge, the Wicca in-charge, and has years more experience than you. Aside from that, she had just performed a vitally complex spell for last night's operations, one which she needed to recuperate from. You will NOT disrespect her again that way, do you understand?"

"I do not obey your orders, Drill Instructor Harris," she snarled, "I obey my own orders, Faith's, and Buffy's orders, and no one else's!"

That being said, she turned and stalked over to the group of Slayers training nearby. Xander sighed and shook his head, recognizing this as being the general attitude of all Slayers, not just on their base, but all the Slayers in the entire world! Every Slayer was beginning to get insubordinate to Watchers and Wicca and, pretty much, anyone who wasn't a Slayer.

"Do you have any idea why this is happening," Amy asked him as she watched Vi take over the PT.

"There're so many of them," he said, "They think they don't need anyone aside from themselves…it's part of the independent nature of the Slayer. Now that they're all so many, the need for independence is overwhelming. I'm surprised they can work so well together. Slayers are alphas, but, all the ones I've met work like twins."

"But, there are alphas," Amy said, "Buffy and Faith. You heard her."

"…I'll be in my room," Xander said, and, with that, he disappeared.

§◙§

Xander sighed as he opened the door to his small apartment. As he walked inside, he took a quick look around to make sure that everything was as it should be. His books on the shelf were unmoved, his bed was made, and his computer was up and waiting for his use. He sighed and took his glasses off, sticking them on his desk. He unloaded his weapon and set it aside on his gun rack, which was hanging on the wall, and placed the clip inside a compartment behind the lower left-hand drawer of his desk, where he stored the other clips so that some people (i.e., Slayers) couldn't get their grubby little hands on them.

He checked his email (only one, from Riley, saying that he'd got another vamp nest the other day, fifty in all), cleaned his guns and rifles, and changed from his battle-dress and into his civies (a pair of blue jeans, a black shirt, and boots). It was all a part of his morning routine after PT and marksmanship. He had few plans today, thankfully. All he had to do was do a review of Slayer Team Bravo for Amy and go to a Masai mage to get his tribe's aid in the war on the demons. He would go and do both those things after he took care of one piece of business.

§◙§

"Ah, Xander," he was greeted warmly by Dr. Benjamin Manning, a member of the Peace Corps inside the area who specialized in paranormal phenomena, "How are you today?"

"I'm doing good," Xander lied, "How's our patient?"

The patient he was referring to was one of his best friends in the whole world. No, it wasn't a girl…or a guy. It was a dog. Jesse was a giant, black hound whom he had found during one of his patrols in Europe, back before he'd been assigned to Africa. He found Jesse inside a Paris alley then, the victim of a werewolf attack. At first, Xander had planned on just killing the beast, ending its misery…but, one of the accompanying Slayers was an animal-rights activist and had insisted on getting it medical care. To this day, he was thankful that she had made him do that. After that, the vet had said that the dog needed care for a few weeks…and the Slayer who'd insisted on his care had died. So, he'd taken the brute in…Xander hadn't had a stable relationship with anyone since Anya's death, and had lost his ability to…well, pretty much exist with humans, with only a few exceptions. He didn't speak, didn't go out, stayed inside his apartment, drinking and watching TV…working out was the healthiest thing he was doing.

Jesse, though, ended up becoming his best friend, and the one thing that had saved himself. Once, during a drunken stupor, he had taken his gun out and shot Jesse in the chest…he only survived because he was infected by werewolf venom. It changed his physiology, making him incapable of being killed by anything other than silver. Thankfully, Jesse didn't wolf out every full moon, he just got really mean. Every full moon, he bought him a nice, large steak, blood dripping off of it.

It was that incident that made him quit drinking. Afterwards, Xander would take Jesse out to run and play with him, enjoy his time with him. It was the thing that had brought him out of his funk. When Jesse had been injured during a vampire attack last week, Xander had rushed him to the nearest thing to a hospital in the area: the Peace Corps.

"Oh, he took quite a hit," Ben said with a smile, "But, he's a tough little bugger. I think he's waiting on you."

Sure enough, a giant, black hound came bounding into the room not a second later. He jumped up at Xander, barking his head off as he did so, and Xander let out an 'oof!' sound as he felt Jesse ram into him, sending him crashing to the floor below.

"Alright, alright," Xander laughed as Jesse slobbered all over him, "Get up, boy. I can't breath."

The dog understood and got up, but kept on licking him as Xander came to his feet.

"As you can see, he's fully recovered," Ben said, again, smiling, "I've got some antibiotics for him to take, but, I doubt he'll need them. Werewolves have excellent immune systems."

"Thanks, doc," Xander said as he rubbed his dog's head, "Come on, Jess, let's get you home. I think there's a nice, juicy steak waiting for you."

The dog started to drool even more.

§◙§

As promised, Jesse got his meal and Xander got slobbered on some more, but, it was fine with the man. He loved his dog.

§◙§

That night, Xander slept peacefully in his bed, with Jesse locked up in his moon-pen, as he'd come to call it, just outside his window. The dog himself was sleeping comfortably in the desert air, secure in its safety with the were-side coming out tonight (it got larger, its fangs grew exponentially, it's eyes turned red) and its hunger from the steak.

That is, until about two-thirty that morning. Jesse awoke immediately, smelling something wrong in his master's bedroom. He smelled…something foul, with intentions even fouler. It immediately began barking its head off and tried to escape the chain around its paws and the pen as it did so.

Ultimately, it was the barking that saved Xander's life.

§◙§

"What," Xander muttered sleepily as he heard Jesse barking like a mad thing.

Xander sighed and opened his eye, having it quickly adjust to the lack of light, and recoiled in shock. Standing in his room were two people with ski masks on, all dressed in black. One was armed with a dagger, and the other appeared ready to hold him down.

Xander reacted first and drove his feet into both his attackers' abdomen, forcing them both to keel over and clutch the attacked area. Xander reached beneath his pillow and withdrew his Berretta, intending on holding them up with it so that he could get some answers, only to have it knocked out of his hands. Xander backed away into the wall and rolled to the other side of the room along the bed. Once there, he reached into his drawer and pulled out his pistol. The one with the dagger came at him and Xander, on impulse, fired.

The shot caught his would-be assassin in the shoulder, completely blowing the arm off. The other one paused at this, completely shocked by the resulting damage.

"Alright," he said to that person, "Stop, and you'll live with all your limbs."

He turned his head as he heard someone running down the hallway and, in that instant, his attacker leapt out of his room window and down to the sands below. He went to his window to pursue, either on foot or with gunfire, only to come to a stop as he saw Jesse leap out of his cage and ram full-on into the person.

"JESSE, STOP!"

The hound, thankfully, did as he was told, though it was obvious that Xander was too late. The girl (he could see her hair now) was lying in a pool of her own blood from her neck. Xander jumped down and landed softly. He made his way over to her and, before he got too close, began to gag.

The girl…she was a Slayer.

§◙§

"London wants you on the first plane there, Xander," Amy said to her friend two days later, "They're going to conduct an investigation and get your statement there."

"More like they want me out of danger," Xander watched a pair of Slayers glare at himacross the way, "They're baying for my blood since I took two of their own."

"But, those two tried to kill you," Amy said with emotion, "Why can't they understand that you defended yourself?"

"…I don't know," he said with a frown, "I don't know anything anymore."