Chapter 2: This Intermission Brought to You by The One Who Sees


Once upon a time, the castle had been home to an army, a sisterhood bound by purpose and power. A decade had passed, but Xander still saw the place as it once was, in that short period after the Scoobies had reclaimed the property in the name of the reformed Watchers International Council. When they'd thought life would get easier with hundreds of warriors by their sides, sharing the weight of the world. For a while, this base had served as as more than just housing, it had been a school. It had come very close to being a place of hope.

What remained were pillars of stone where walls had stood, a crumbling skeleton of rock and wood. A few rooms were still standing near the previous kitchens, and the groundskeeper's cottage had been rebuilt into living quarters for whoever found themselves on duty. Because this place couldn't be truly abandoned, despite its state of disrepair. The magic of those final wards laid down around her walls, it was still strong. The ground was marked, Will told him once. Xander still didn't know what that meant, only that it made the "bonus storage space, slash sex torture chamber," as Buff had dubbed it, beneath the ground a perfect prison for those enemies who couldn't be held by metal bars and chains alone.

"Meanwhile, in a dungeon in Scotland," Xander muttered as he tromped down the staircase. He slid his fingers over the carved mark on the wall and the dim lighting of the ever-lit torches brighten.

He soaked it in a minute, studying the long, shadowed corridor. It smelled like dirt and rotted blood down here, and the observation forced his lone eye to follow the path to the end of the hallway, the last door. His hand trembled slightly, and he shook off the memory. He wasn't here for that door. He was here for the closest one, actually.

Xander glanced through the barred window on the door, at the form sitting at the center of the small room instead of on the bed behind her. He'd been warned about dealing with their newest resident, but he pricked his thumb on the lock nevertheless, running the droplet of blood over the latch in a series of circular movements. His signature, not that the residents needed to know the password.

The smudge of red absorbed into the door and a mechanism clicked. He pulled the door open.

"I trust you're finding your stay at Azkaban unpleasant?"

Her form shifted slightly and her curtain of dark hair fell away from her face as she looked up, her pretty features catching the meager yellow light. "Funny." Her grin was overly sweet, a disguise, just like the rest of her mask. "And cute. We have to stop meeting like this."

Xander sat down on the floor in front of her, groaning slightly at the pinch in his bad knee, and plopped down the brown paper sack between them. "Is this the part where I ask, 'What's a nice girl like you doing in a dank torture chamber like this?'" He dug unto the bag, pulling free a sandwich and pushing another her way. "Because I already know the answer to that question. Oh, and there's fried apple pie in the bottom of the bag, so save room."

She chewed her turkey-on-wheat slowly, watching the man across from her. "Do you honestly think these little chats of ours are going to make me open up to you? Tell you all my 'evil' plans?"

Xander shrugged, talking around a large bite of ham and cheese. "We could start with your lengthy backstory. Most super villains adore their lengthy backstories. Not that you think you're a villain at all."

Her gaze darkened slightly. "I killed one person in self-defense. That hardly makes me Lex Luthor."

"Sure. And that one person happened to be a coven elder who was trying to stop you when she found out what you were planning. You would have gotten away with it, too. Gotten on a plane back to the States and found a new teaching job. If it hadn't been for us meddling do-goers," Xander corrected. "And a distracting DC reference might earn you brownie points but it won't make me forget that you planned to kill a dozen more people using old blood magic that required, of all the freakish things, virgin sacrifices. Seriously, who does virgin sacrifices anymore? But that doesn't count, right? Because you had a good reason?"

"Only three of them had to be virgins," she said, quietly. Her eyes didn't leave him.

Xander kept his voice light, conversational, but his shoulders stiffened slightly. "And I'm sure you were going to find three sexually deprived death row inmates to off."

"Teenagers, innocent ones," she assured, an edge of sadness in her tone. "That's what makes them sacrifices, Xander. True power comes from real sacrifice. It's not a real sacrifice if you kill someone who's already dying or someone you already wanted to kill."

"Thanks for clarifying. Finish your sandwich, Jennifer."

She cocked her head in thought. "I thought you wanted to hear my story, but you don't even know my real name, do you?"

Xander ran a napkin over his mouth. "I don't need to know your name. I know who you've been pretending to be for, oh, the last five years or so. Jennifer Blake. English teacher. Recently on vacation in London, according to various social media sites. It's a good mask, hides all that dark druid messiness."

Jennifer leaned forward, her smooth skin slipping away in a flash, leaving behind thick, scarred flesh where her pretty features should be. The absent lips and missing skin over her jaw left her expression frozen in a horrific scowl. She hissed at Xander, a trail of spittle spilling over her chin.

"Would you prefer me without it?" she asked, her voice hard, distorted.

Xander blinked, taking another bite of his sandwich. She leaned back again, her glamour falling into place. Pretty Jennifer Blake was back. The two were silent a moment.

Xander finally shrugged. "I almost married a vengeance demon. You should have seen her when she was angry. It's funny. All these wards holding back your magic, and you still manage to waste what little strength you can muster on showing me Jennifer Blake's face. I think that says more about who you are than a name ever could."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. You just told me why you were going to murder a bunch of innocent people." Xander pushed himself back up to his feet, staring down at her. "What happened to you...you're not over it, never will be. Yours is a revenge tale."

"You're leaving?"

"I know a thing or two about vengeance. Me staying isn't going to quench that thirst for blood you have," Xander said, with a shrug. "See you at breakfast."

Jennifer shook her head, a small, bitter grin on her face. "Wait." She hesitated, as if re-thinking the request, then slowly looked up through her long lashes. "Do you know what a beacon is?"

"As in, 'Light the beacon, Pippin'?"

"Do you understand its purpose?" Jennifer asked.

"A warning."

"Yes. Sometimes, and other times it's a guide."

"A guide to what?"

"It's not about 'what'. It's about who."

"Huh. This whole overly-vague-mysterious-mystic thing is kind of overdone. Cliche even. So how about you tell me what this Q&A is really about."

"What's the fun in that? Let me out, and I'll show you."

"Not happening. But you already know that much. So, I'm guessing, whatever you're doing right now with the hint-dropping, you're doing it because it brings you one step closer to your goals. If you just wanted us to hunt down the asshole who hurt you, you'd just drop a name, but nope, gotta do it your way, right? So this is the part where you leave me curious in hopes that I'll fold to your will and give you that opening you need. Maybe you'll even tell me that lives are at risk and only you can help me save them? Yeah, this song and dance? I'm well rehearsed." Xander clapped his hands once in a dismissal. "We're done here."

"Xander, wait!"

He heard her calls as he locked the door behind him, stomping up the stairs out of the dungeon. Let her think that hadn't worked. Xander sighed to himself when he made it up into the ruins. It had worked, though, to some degree. Because it had made him remember.

He pulled his cell phone free, thankful to the magically-enabled friends in his life for the strong signal bars, and dialed a number. He thought for sure it would go straight to voicemail, but she answered on the second ring.

"How's my favorite rogue pirate?"

The greeting was one of her usuals, but Xander noted the overly-cheerful tone. She was a trying too hard. Which mean she was up to something. Which, really, wasn't that business as usual?

"Oh, you know, raiding castles, chattin' up wenches. Say, Dawnie, do you happen to remember the name of that town Robin was relocating to for his 'Sabbatical'?"

Dawn was quiet a moment before humming an affirmative. "I think Robin's referring to it as 'retirement' actually. Beacon Hills, California. Why? Planning to send him a fruit basket?"

Xander pinched the bridge of his nose, his finger tapping the band of his eye patch before he nodded to himself. Of course. Of course that had been the hint. "Oh, I don't know. Wouldn't it just be easier to have you deliver it? Since you're headed that way and all."

"How'd you -?"

"Well, when you left here a week ago, I knew the man in the mirror had sent you on an assignment. But I didn't realize where you were headed until about five minutes ago. Do you really think I quit keeping tabs on you just because we broke up, moved to different countries, then awkwardly attempted to be roommates?"

"Stalker much?" But she chuckled lightly. "Have you told anyone where I am?"

"Like who? Buff and Will are on their quest in China and not due back for...well, it's a long quest, as are most the ones involving Monkey Kings. So, what kind of trouble is young Ms. Summers planning to get into while the rest of the Justice League is off-world?"

"What about Faith? Talked to her lately?"

Xander raised a brow. "I didn't tell Faith. Why? You could have asked about anyone else. Why Faith?"

"No reason."

"Dawn."

"I'm just...trying to keep her out of this loop for a bit, okay? I have reasons. Good ones. Listen. I have a job to do. It's not an end-of-the-world job. Nothing to concern yourself with, okay? I'll call if I need back-up."

"Dawn, you know I can't leave this place unprotected. Why the hell would you take a job right now? And does this have anything to do with a certain Dark Druid you interviewed before you left?"

"Xander. Seriously. It's nothing. Just stay on duty, and let me do the same."

Xander sighed. "Robin isn't getting to retire, is he?"

"He's the one who took a job as a high school principal in small-town California."

"What was the guy even thinking? Fine. I'll lay off. But be careful, Dawn. Shannon is dealing with that vamp orgy in Washington, so call her if you find anyone in need of slaying...and remember rule one."

She hung up without a goodbye, as had become their ritual over the years, especially since the unspeakable incident in Brazil. Goodbyes were for people who meant it.

Xander stared down at his phone a moment before searching his contacts. He hesitated, finger hovering over the name: FAITH. Considering their ups and downs and, well, in some cases, sideways-es, a phone call was maybe not the best choice, but he sure as hell knew a text message would be even more suspicious. Growling to himself, he slid the phone back into his pocket. He'd make the call. When he needed to, but for now he needed to give Dawn the benefit of the doubt.

He glared at the castle ruins as if they'd personally offended him. "Well, Jennifer, looks like we're due for another lunch date tomorrow."