Notes for this scene: Come on, what's the likelihood of there being two secret organizations called the Watchers that have absolutely nothing to do with each other? Not much, I say.

This takes place before Xander loses his eye, and goes AU from there (obviously).


When Xander woke up, his head was aching something horrible.

Which wasn't so bad, considering he'd thought he had DIED.

"Uuuugh….What happened?" he asked, holding his protesting noggin and looking around. He saw, of all people, Giles, sitting in a chair by the bed, a book in his lap.

"How are you feeling?" Giles asked softly. Xander made a face.

"I just had a near-death experience. How do you think I feel?"

Giles flinched a little bit. Xander, noticing something was wrong, sat up more and looked at him.

"Hey, what's wrong, G-man?"

Giles sighed. "Xander….there's no easy way to tell you this."

Immediately Xander was on his guard. "What?"

"Xander, you did die."

Xander blinked. "Huh? …Did Willow bring me back? I don't remember being in Heaven…" He stopped when Giles shook his head.

"No. You came back by yourself."

Xander just blinked, waiting for an explanation. Giles sighed, resigned, and got right to the point.

"You're Immortal, Xander. From this point on you will never age, and you will live forever unless someone cuts your head off."

"What? Nononono, that can't be right. You're saying I'm possessed? Some kind of demon, or a curse?"

"We don't know what it is, only that it has been this way for as long as even the eldest of us can remember."

Xander was still shaking his head in denial, but at Giles words stopped and regarded the man suspiciously.

"We?"

Giles nodded. "I'm one, as well." He hurried on before Xander could interrupt. "I sensed that you had the potential to become one of us the moment I first met you. Since then I have done my damndest to make sure you got to adulthood before dying your first death. Teenaged Immortals are at a distinct disadvantage." He sighed. "It was hard, keeping this from you. So many times I wanted to treat you differently, or at least talk to you, tell you my own secrets…But I couldn't. Until now."

Xander stared at him for a long while, before cocking his head and stating (rather defiantly) "I don't believe you."

Giles quirked a smile. "Yes, I thought you might not." He closed his eyes for a moment, and suddenly Xander's distant headache became a persistent buzz at the base of his skull.

"Ow!"

"You're feeling my presence, now that I've stopped suppressing it. As a full Immortal, you can sense others of your kind."

Xander glared at him. "How do I know it's not some sort of spell or something like that?"

Giles shrugged. "Why would I lie? But here, if you need more proof." He drew a dagger from a sheath that was sitting on the table next to him and rolled up a sleeve. "Watch closely."

He pressed the point of the dagger a good half-inch into the flesh of his forearm and dragged it a few inches down his arm, cutting deeply into the muscle, face contorted with pain. Xander made a horrified noise, disgusted at the self-mutilation. But he didn't tear his eyes away, and as he watched, small sparks of blue lightning danced over the wound, and it began to close. Within a minute the pale skin was completely unmarked, showing no signs of a scar.

"If I were to do the same to you, it would also close, though not as fast. Would you like to try?" He offered the knife.

Xander shook his head vehemently. "You're crazy." But Giles just quirked an eyebrow, his hand unmoving. After a moment, Xander accepted it.

Gingerly, Xander made a shallow cut in his palm. Nowhere near as deep or harmful as the wound in Giles' arm had been, the cut closed over in a matter of seconds.

Xander looked up at Giles, eyes wide. Giles smiled at him.

"Now do you believe?"

Xander just blinked. "How old are you, really?"

"A little over two thousand. I was born in 63 BC, in Rome."

Xander set the knife down, his eyes not leaving Giles' face. "Two thousand…What was your name? I doubt they called you Rupert back then."

Giles snorted a little. "No, indeed. My given name is Benedictus. I've gone by Benedict in most of my identities in this century – it was only recently, when I moved to America, that I changed my name."

Xander gave him a look. "And you chose Rupert?"

Giles gave him a look. "Having spent the last 200 years in England, I thought it would be easier than getting rid of my accent."

Xander laughed at him for a moment, then grew silent. Giles let him think all of it through.

"Giles? Er, Benedictus, whatever. Does anyone else know?"

Giles smiled, sort of sadly. "No. And they can't know. Not unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Why?"

"Because the Watchers can't ever know." Seeing Xander's confusion, Giles explained. "There's a sect of the Watchers that specifically studies Immortals. They broke off centuries ago, soon after I died my first death – around the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. To them, Benedictus of Rome was killed in World War One when a freak accident with a rookie pilot and a Sopwith Camel accidentally took off his head." Xander made a disgusted face. "At the time, I already knew about the Watchers, even though they're never supposed to let Immortals know about them. My Watcher at the time was a close friend, a fellow soldier in the trenches. He died in the fighting, and to make sure no one ever had to follow me into war again, I faked an entry in his journal that stated that I had been killed."

Xander looked at him thoughtfully.

"You've been through a lot."

"Yes. I have. And you're destined to follow the same path."

"Well." Xander stood and stretched. "Then I had better get some breakfast."