Hey, people. First time I've updated in over a year, and Xander Displaced gets the honors? What the hell's up with that?

Well, don't ask me, 'cause I don't know either.

Only had one scene missing from this chapter, and today I watched Restless again, which gave me what I needed to complete this.

A note of warning, before you read: In this chapter, I have, at times, written Buffy's thoughts as very positive when she regard Xander. This effect of putting someone dear who has been lost on a pedastal, exaggerating their positive qualities and denying their negative qualities, is a normal effect of continued grief, especially when one associates themselves as party to the cause of the loss of the loved one (basically, falsely labeling oneself as responsible for their fate.

Because of this, some of Buffy's thoughts regarding Xander will seem somewhat illogical or wholely incorrect. This is my attempt to create that atmosphere. Granted, it's most likely a recipe for failure, but please take it all with the grain of salt I intended.

Disclaimer: I have never, nor will I ever, own, in whole or in part, the rights to the original Buffy: The Vampire Slayer characters mentioned herein. However, I reserve the right to lay claim to the fictional use I have made of said characters and original characters I have created myself, as well as the alterations (of all shape and form) I have made that veer from Joss Whedon's original plotline.

Disclaimer for laymen: I don't own Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. I do own my original characters, as well as the plotlines that make up this story.

Xander Displaced

By: Daniel Goldberg

Chapter One: A Year Without Xander

"Hello?" Said one Willow Rosenberg into the receiver of her phone, sitting on her bed.

"Willow?" Came the voice of her best girl-friend.

"Hey, Buffy," Willow replied, "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much," Came the reply, "Just sort of bored."

"Well, that's to be expected," Willow chuckled, "Apparently evil has taken a hiatus for the last…" She flashed a look at her calendar, "Four weeks, since that whole Ascension hoopla ended."

Buffy sighed, "I guess the underworld is undergoing renovations or something."

"Reorganization, more likely," the Wiccan redhead corrected, "With the Mayor not calling the shots anymore, someone new has to take charge. At least the power-struggles aren't spilling out onto the streets."

"True." Buffy replied, a hint of dejection in her voice.

"Hey, Buff," Willow spoke, hoping to cheer up her bored friend, "Relax, have fun, find a guy for the summer. Have, for once, an actual, real vacation where you're not fighting or running away."

Buffy sighed again, "I guess you're right, Wills. I'll try." A few moments passed, "Oh, speaking of guys and vacations," She began, "Any news about Xander?"

"No," Now Willow was the dejected-sounding one, "Three weeks and not a peep. And he promised to call when he reached LA. Xander wouldn't break a promise like that. It just isn't Xander-y."

"Xander's a big boy, Wills. He knows how to take care of himself. We'll see him, come October."

"You're right, Buffy. I just have this nagging feeling… Something isn't right."



Great, more blood. His clothes were filled with it. Human and Demon and Half-breed blood clung to the tattered remains of what clothes he had managed to rescue from the shambles of the vehicle that brought him here. The clothes had managed to survive almost half a year of pain and violence. Luckily, so had he. But he was on his last wearable shirt, and the last pair of pants that was anything more than a loincloth.

Sheathing his bloodied sword, he pulled out his hunting knife, and crouched down beside one of the nasties he'd managed to kill just a few moments before, and, with his face screwed up in disgust, he began to skin it. It was a very good thing that he had learned how to work leather during his second month in this place, as he knew just how to prepare the hard, rough skin for tanning.

If I ever get back home, He said in his mind, I will wear nothing but flannel, silk, satin and cotton. Never again will my foot enter a leather boot; Never again.

Buffy Anne Summers woke up, her whole body hurting. That vampire bitch really got her good last night, and her body wasn't in a very cooperative mood. There were a lot of thoughts running through her mind, most of them being 'ouch' or 'that bitch'.

But, somewhere between the groans and growls, there was still a small place for concern, for someone she hadn't seen in months.

Where are you, Xander?

Damn it, He seethed in his mind, his mouth occupied by the gag his Demon captors had placed on his mouth. He should not have been so easily captured. Nor should he have been stripped of his armor, shirt and shoes so easily. After two and a half years in this Demon Dimension, he shouldn't have been so easy a mark. And now he was going to be supper for those horn-headed hermaphroditic hell-bitches.

As good as he had gotten at fighting horrors and hell-beasts and all those sorts of nasties, he still sometimes wished that he had a Buffy here to get him out of a tight spot like this.

Oh, screw it, He growled viciously against the gag. Thinking of his Demon-killing best friend and oftentimes crush wasn't going to get him anywhere. He needed to find some way to break the ropes that tied him to the stone pole he was bound to. His eyes searched the ground beneath his feet, and finding, as though by some miracle, a piece of sharp glass, probably from one of the broken windows scattered around the room. With great effort, he managed to slide it near him, pick it up with his toes – incurring a small cut in the process – grab it with his hand, and cut off the rope around his waist, before pulling the gag off.



Finally free of his bonds, he ran through the door that had been arrogantly left unlocked, and straight into a battle. Some blue-haired girl that looked a year or two younger than him was fighting his captors. Fighting, but losing; apparently untrained in fighting against three opponents at the same time. She definitely needed help.

Well, He thought, as he picked up a discarded curved sword, I never was one to leave a lady in the lurch. And thus he launched himself at the closest of the Succubae. The element of surprise on his side, he ran his quarry through, cutting her neatly in half.

The she-devil's sisters screeched as her body's two parts fell to the ground with a sickening squelch. The closest lunged at him, claws bared, but he spun sideways. The Demon missed him, but quickly turned around – right onto the outstretched blade of his sword. He pulled the blade out, and twisted around, beheading the bitch in the process.

As he turned back towards the girl, his eyes opened wide at the sight of the blue-haired nymph holding the Succubus by her throat, a foot in the air. She pulled back her other fist, which Xander now saw was covered in a glove that had been mounted with claws. With a grunt, she punched the Demon through the stomach, blood and entrails exploding outwards behind it, before she tossed the corpse aside.

Xander clapped his hands in applause. "Nice form, excellent splatter; Nine-point-Five, definitely."

The girl looked at him oddly, before turning around, and walking away.

"Hey!" He shouted, "Don't I get a 'Thank you', or anything?"

The girl turned back towards him, a scowl set in her countenance. "I could have handled them myself."

Xander chuckled, walking towards her, "Yeah, and my grandmother's a Xen-Rokh Demon."

"Well," The girl retorted, "That would explain your eyebrows."

"What!?" He replied incredulously, finally reaching her, and realizing he was a half a foot or so taller, "My eyebrows are perfectly, one-hundred percent Human, and I resent your implications to the contrary."

"Whatever," She said, beginning to walk away again, with Xander walking right beside her. "Are you following me?" She questioned.

He nodded, "They don't exactly have signs here that point to the exit, y'know, and I didn't actually get in myself, as you may have gathered from my 'no shirt, no shoes, no armor' situation."



The girl led him to the exit, and, with a curt nod, began walking away. Again. When she was a good distance away, Xander realized; He was literally in the middle of nowhere, and had no idea where to go. So he did the only thing a man could do in his state – he began running after the last living person he'd seen – the girl. Soon enough, he got within shouting range.

"Yo, Blue-hair!" He shouted after her, "Where's the nearest town?"

She stopped, turned around, and assumed what had to be a posture of pure, unadulterated exasperation. When he finally got to her, she looked him up and down, and, with an odd twinkle in her eye, said, "Follow me."

They had been walking in silence for several minutes, when she decided to ask him, "Well, do you have a name I can ignore you by?"

He smirked, "You can call me Xander."

She returned the smirk.

"Selina."

Oz surveyed the situation with his trademark look. That is, the cool, neutral look that not only betrayed nothing, but, at times, made it seem as though nothing was really going on behind it; A complex ruse he wrought to keep unwanted attention from befalling him. An eyebrow rose at the sight of Buffy demolishing a pumpkin.

"Um…" He suggested, "Buffy, you are aware that the point is to turn the pumpkin into a face… as opposed to potpourri."

"This is a face, Oz," She replied hotly, "This is what Parker's is going to look like if he so much as speaks to me again."

He gave an imperceptible sigh at that, and couldn't help but wonder whether Xander could have relieved the tension Buffy's unfortunate tryst with that Parker guy had brought down upon them. Stupid jokes or not, Xander was always good at relieving tension.

And, though he wouldn't say it out loud, they really could use that – and him – right about now.

Xander gasped for air as the sparring round came to an end. Ever since he had fallen in line with Selina, life had become a lot harder; training every single day, patrolling, traveling, camping, and, of course, fighting. Where before he had managed to survive by 

avoiding danger as much as fighting it directly, now, he and Selina had become a duo of protectors, saving the innocent of the land from those who would prey upon them.

He could hardly believe how powerful he'd gotten over the last six months of being the Cerulean Serpent's partner; more than he'd gotten over the two years before that, and definitely more than what little improvements he'd made back in Sunnydale.

But, as much as he loved how powerful he'd been getting, it didn't mean anything unless he could go back home. It was so frustrating – knowing that his friends were back home, fighting the good fight, and, if things have kept with the one-apocalypse-per-year tradition, have had to prevent the world from ending at least twice, and, no matter how good he'd become, or how many evils he'd stopped, he was still completely unable to help the people that really matter – Willow, Oz, Giles, Joyce, even Wesley, Cordelia and Deadboy. And Buffy.

God, she reminds me of her, He thought, looking at the blue-haired beauty catching her breath in front of him. Powerful, beautiful, hard-headed as a stone Minotaur, and possessing of a sense of justice so strong, she could kill someone with it alone, were it tangible; she was so much like Buffy it was staggering. So much so, in fact, that he was feeling again urges, the likes of which he'd only ever felt for towards the Slayer, only now they were towards his cerulean-tressed companion.

But he had to put those feeling aside for now; He couldn't afford to have anything happen with her. He couldn't, because he had to find a way back home.

He pushed himself off away from the tree he'd been leaning on, and dropped to his knees in front of the river they'd been sparring next to. He lifted a handful of water to his mouth and sipped, before the image in the water caught his eye. As the ripples his hand had caused ebbed to a stop, he took note of the face that was looking back at him. A face that had seen Hell, somewhat literally, for Three years, but looked as though only a few months had passed. Neither he, nor Selina could figure out why that was.

He felt, more than heard, her kneel beside him, looking down into the river as well. "What's on your mind, stranger?"

He turned, looking her in the eyes. "About Home, I suppose."

"Sunnydale?"

He nodded, "I have to find a way back, Selina. My friends need me back there."

He could hear her mumbling something, but couldn't make it out. "What was that?"

She gave a sigh, "I said, 'I need you here'.



Xander didn't know what to say to that, so, instead, he opted, for what may well have been the first time in his life, to say nothing.

Sobs echoed in the room, as tears flowed freely down the cheeks of one red-haired witch, who was leaning on her best friend for support, both physical and emotional.

Buffy was at a bit of a loss as to what to do – after the deal with neutered-Spike the day before, Willow had acted slightly strange. She had a few moments where she was half-catatonic (well, not really, but it sure seemed like it), but mostly, there was just something weird about her.

This oddness had been somewhat sorted out, however, when Willow all but collapsed in tears once they had gotten back to their room today. For about fifteen minutes now, she had been crying, and wasn't showing any signs of letting up. "Wills," She said finally, "Can you tell me what's wrong?" When, upon this, there had been a slight reprieve in the sobbing, she continued, "It might help."

Willow seemed to pull herself together for a few seconds, before another sob escaped her. Fortunately, it had been solitary, and none followed in its wake. "It's just hit me, I guess."

Buffy could surmise what her friend was talking about, "Oz, right?"

Surprisingly, Willow shook her head, "No. Well, not just him."

Oh. And thus the mist spreads. "Xander." A shudder went through the girl leaning on her.

"I just…" She lets out, before the sobs wrack her body again. "I just miss him so much," She manages between sobs.

"I know," The blonde replies, "I miss him too." The lack of Xander, his jokes, his insight, his… Xander-ness, it left a chasm a mile wide in the lives of all the remaining Scoobies. Granted, the only ones left were the two of them, Giles, and Anya, but that just emphasized the size of the hole he left behind him.

"We need to look for him." Willow said, "It's been too long for him not to call."

"Well, maybe that's it, Will," Buffy spoke quietly, as though afraid of her own words; and maybe she was, "He wouldn't just go missing for three and a half months, without calling us." She breathed deeply, "Not unless…" She couldn't find it in her to continue.

Unfortunately, Willow wouldn't let her off so easy, "Not unless…?" She leaned away from Buffy, turning to look her in the eye, "Not unless what, Buffy?" She said, almost threateningly.



Hoo boy, Buffy really didn't want to say what she was about to, but Willow wasn't leaving her much choice. "Not unless…" She hesitated, but pulled through, "Not unless he's had enough."

"What!?" Willow yelped accusingly.

"Look, Wills, we both know that this last year's been pretty tough on him. What with the breaking up with Cordelia, and not getting accepted into college. Then there's the fact that we've been slowly distancing him from the fight, throughout the year. I think everything was building up in him – the frustration over the fact that he was the only one of us without a special power was only making everything worse."

She took a breath, trying to gather up the courage for the next part, "We've been pushing him away, bit by bit. When graduation day came, I think it was the first time in a long time that he really felt like part of the group – part of the fight, but then we all split up for the summer, and he went on his trip. And maybe he found out, while he was out there, in the real world, that he didn't have a whole lot to come back here for; that maybe his help wasn't needed, or that he didn't want to keep risking his life in a fight he wasn't meant to fight, and doesn't have any sort of edge in.

"Maybe he decided that he has had enough of being 'normal human Xander', who can hardly fight one vampire. If that's what he decided, I don't think he should have called us. You know him – the smallest issue here and he'd just have to come back and help us. He had to separate himself entirely, so he'd be able to finally get a life of his own, demon-free and Hellmouth-free."

Willow looked at Buffy for a long time, before going back to leaning against the Slayer. Stifling a few randomly appearing sobs, she said, "I don't know if what you said happened, Buff," She began, "But maybe it's for the best if it did. He should be out there living a happy, demon-free life. He should be getting a job, and finding a girlfriend, who he'll marry, and have 2.5 children with. It's just sad that, if that's the case, I'll never be their 'cool auntie Willow'. I'll just be someone in an old photo album." A heavy sob rushed through her, "I don't want to be 'just someone' to Xander."

"Me neither," The Slayer agreed, "But, as long as he's happy, that's all that matters, right?"

Willow gave a slight smile at that, "Yeah…" A few moments passed, "You think he's happy?"

"He'd better be," Buffy replied with a huff, "Or I'll kick his ass."

Willow gave a chuckle at that. She fell asleep that night, praying that Xander would find his happiness, wherever he was.



Nighttime. The two suns had set a few hours before, and the overcast skies meant that the only source of illumination was the fire between them and where their tent had been set up.

He sat against the log that remained of the tree they'd chopped down for kindling, his arms wrapped around Selina, who sat between his legs, her arms sat atop his. The sensation of holding her, feeling her melt and meld against him, brought to him a sense of clarity he'd never had before.

"I love you, Selina." He said simply, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head.

A few moments passed in silence, before she nearly shot up in her seat, turning to face him on her knees. "What did you just say?" She asked, "I- I'm not sure I heard you right."

Xander gave a slight smirk, before tugging her back against him. "I said," He spoke, looking into her eyes, "I love you, Selina."

A minute passed, and, finally, she spoke. "Shouldn't you be telling me this after some monumental battle, where one of us almost dies, and you don't want to lose me before you–" Her babblings were stopped by his lips pressing onto hers, and she seemed to almost melt against him.

"This isn't about me not wanting to lose you, Selina," He said when they separated, "This is about how I feel about you." His hand ghosted against her cheek, "And maybe this confession is supposed to follow some grand event," His face closed on hers, until he was barely an inch away, "But I don't care about that," His lips met hers again, "I just love you."

"I–" Their lips crashed together once more, "I love you too."

Buffy sighed deeply. She thought she had finally found a normal boyfriend, but noooo… He was a soldier – some military operation she didn't need or want to know the name of. They captured vampires and demons – which was of the good, getting them off the streets, but she didn't get why they don't just dust them and be done with it.

She wondered if there was some malign reason to the capturing-as-opposed-to-killing stratagem. She pondered that for all of thirty seconds, because the evils she thought up frightened even her. That, and the subject of Riley was somewhat more appealing.

In a way, it was fortunate that he wasn't normal – that he was capable of fighting the things that go bump in the night means he was less likely to leave because she could never stop fighting the good Fight. It also means that he can fight alongside her, with her.



Because that was the problem with Xander – he couldn't fight alongside her, because he didn't have any special abilities or training; it wasn't so much that he would be a liability – although, she was ashamed to admit, the thought had crossed her mind from time to time – so much as she couldn't stand to see him get hurt, or, even worse, die. After her father abandoned their family, and Angel dying, then coming back, then leaving again, she couldn't handle having Xander in harm's way again.

She amused herself for a bit with images of what Xander must be up to right now; macking on some beautiful girl in a bar somewhere – possibly New York, or Cleveland – or working somewhere, maybe trying to get into college again. Maybe he's got a girlfriend… Maybe, she chuckled at the thought, a boyfriend.

But the common thread to all her imaginings was that he was happy, and safe. Because even a burglar with a gun wouldn't scare Xander – not after vampires and demons and everything else the Hellmouth has thrown at him. Yes, he was safely away from all the Darkness.

She fell asleep that night, a smirk on her face; the last thought she had was about Xander meeting Cordelia in LA, and the pair of them falling back in love. They'd have the cutest, most annoying little kids.

He moved through her silken folds, the slickness easing his movements. There was no effort, no shame, no anger, or sorrow, or doubt. There was only love.

He loved her with his heart, his mind, and his soul.

And now, like so many times before, he loved her with his body as well.

"And this," Riley said, as they entered a room filled with computers, screens and newspapers, "Is our tactical espionage section."

They were positioned on a raised platform, surrounded by rails, with stairways leading down into where most of said materials were placed, "Here we monitor Sunnydale and the outside world via the internet, newspapers, and various cameras we have set up all around the town."

"Neat-o," Buffy exclaimed, looking with awe at all the images and gadgetry. One screen in particular caught her gaze. It was repeatedly showing an image of a car (somewhat familiar, though she didn't know from where) driving into a blue vortex. She had seen something similar a year and a half prior, in Acathla's maw in Angel's mansion, and it irked her curiosity.

She approached the team situated around the screen. "What are they researching?" She posed to Riley.

"That's just a side-project, really," He replied, "Still, one of the more interesting ones."

Buffy twisted around to face him, "How so?"

"Well," He began, "It started last summer, when a few of our sensors caught on to some barometric anomalies at a 30 foot area right on the road connecting Sunnydale to LA. In response, we set up some cameras there, and set a few of the grunts to monitor it, just in case.

"No one here expected it to happen, but a few days later, some spatial abnormality manifested there. We haven't been able to figure out where that… portal, I guess you'd say led to, because after that car went through, it closed up, and all of the barometric anomalies ceased."

"Well," Buffy spoke, after another minute of gazing at the images, "I'd say it probably led to an alternate dimension. And with it being this close to the Hellmouth, I figure it'd be either a demon- or a hell-dimension."

Riley's countenance shaped itself into a frown, "And what makes you so sure of that?"

"I've seen one open before."

Silence reigned for a few good seconds. Buffy turned to a screen that showed the portal less clearly, but the car much more so. Suddenly, a memory flashed across her mind, from the time they battled the sisterhood of Jhe. Suddenly, she knew why that car looked so familiar.

"Umm, Riley?" She started, grabbling hold of a rail.

"Yeah?"

"Do you-" She halted, not sure if she wanted to know the answer, "Do you know who that car belonged to?"

He looked at her questioningly, but opted not to voice his wondering, instead calling out to one of the people working at that station. "Frank, do you happen to know who our Copperfield car belonged to?"

The brown-haired, goatee-sporting scientist took his chin in his hand, and seemed to ponder that for a few seconds. "I think I remember… Harris, I think."

There was a sound like screeching metal, but they both ignored it, "Are you sure?" Riley asked.



"Well," Frank said, "Let me check." He rummaged through a stack of papers that was set on one of the desks at his post. After a few moments, he pulled out a sheet with a victorious smile, "There we go," He skimmed through the page, before speaking once more, "Current owner: Rory Harris."

The odd screech sounded again, this time followed by a loud crack and a clanging noise. Riley spun around, only to see Buffy, her right hand clenched at her side, blood visibly dripping from the fisted appendage. At her feet was part of the rail that had been in front of her a few moments ago. It looked as though it had been twisted and torn right off.

"Buffy…?" Riley mumbled, and was stunned when she flinched at the sound of his voice and ran out of the room like the devil himself was after her.

As Buffy ran through the Initiative corridors, her mind was racing through a thousand different thoughts, all connected by one word.

Xander…

"Selina, hang on," He said, tears threatening to fall from his brown eyes, "Don't you dare give up on me now."

She smiled at him, still managing to look angelic, even with a small bit of blood dribbling from her mouth. "Lover, please, don't," she whispered hoarsely, "It's too late for me now."

"No!" He shouted, "Don't say that; you don't know that for sure! There's got to be a way – I'll find it, I swear!"

She lifted her hand to his cheek, "Honey, don't do this to yourself; we both knew the risks going in." She closed her eyes, "I'm happy, knowing you're safe. Finish what we started, my Hero, and find your way back home."

She spoke no more, and his cries rocked the heavens.

Buffy collapsed on the couch, dead to the world. What happened that day with Faith opened up a few old wounds. Especially when Giles didn't recognize her as Buffy-in-Faith's-body…

Somehow, the thought crossed her mind that if it was Xander, instead of Giles, he would've known it was her.

"Again!" Shishou called, going back into a ready stance. Xander came at him again, as he had been taught. The pair exchanged blows, the older man visibly easing up on the 

younger one. Indeed, though the brunet attacked with speed and ferocity he'd never possessed before his stint under his new teacher; his sensei; this Shishou, the older Asiatic yellow-blond was dodging his strikes almost effortlessly.

After a few minutes of this, Shishou seemed to have had enough. "Stop," He commanded.

The brunet fell to his knees, gasping for air.

For some time, there was only silence, then Shishou spoke, "Do you know why you can't match my power?"

Still heaving for air, Xander replied, "You're more experienced, better trained, stronger, and faster. Plus, hitting you feels like hitting a brick wall, and you don't even feel it."

Shishou nodded, "Correct, Knight," He said, sitting down beside the younger man. "And, aside from the first two, you can augment yourself to match the other traits you mentioned–"

"By using Chakra," Xander interrupted, "Except that I can't control it at all, much less to the extent you can."

The blond nodded again, "And why is that, do you think?"

After a few moments, the extra-planar brunet sighed, "Because I'm not concentrating hard enough."

"Correct," Shishou said succinctly, "This time, focus on pulling out your inner strength. Think about why you need this power. Not for its own sake, nor for vengeance…"

"… But to protect my precious people. To protect everyone."

The blond nodded, a small smile showing his assent, even as he slipped back into the same ready stance as before.

"Again!"

As she was getting ready to go out and track Adam, Buffy's eyes fell upon an old photo of her, Willow and Xander. Damn it, She cursed in her mind, holding back tears. Here she was, The Chosen One, The Slayer – the one girl destined to save the world… But who would save her?

She burned with regret for the things she said yesterday. For goodness' sake, she didn't not-want her friends to help her in the Fight – she needed their help. But now Willow won't speak to her, and Anya's furious – she looked at her like she wanted to kill her. Not like sword-through-the-heart kill, but burn-in-flames-while-hellhounds-bite-your-feet-

and-locusts-eat-everything-else kill. Suddenly, Buffy was glad that Anya wasn't a vengeance demon anymore.

What's worse is that she didn't at all mean what she said. They just got on her nerves so much, she didn't even know what she was saying.

But what hurt her most, post-explosion, was that when the subject of the conversation somehow moved to Xander, both Willow and Anya ganged up on her. They accused her of being the reason Xander left last summer – they said that if she had left him in the loop, he might've not gone on that trip… and whatever took him from them wouldn't have been able to do so.

The reason it hurt, however, wasn't that they had accused her of it, or that they ganged up on her – it was that they voiced the same guilty thoughts she's had ever since she found out he was well and truly gone. Gone from this life, or just from this dimension – it didn't matter; He was gone from them… Gone from her.

And it was all her fault.

"I'm never gonna find them here," Buffy said, as the expanse of the desert lay before her. In this enormous wasteland, she'll never find Giles, Willow or Anya.

"Of course you won't," A voice called to her, "But you're not really looking for them anymore, either."

The speaker had a familiar voice, and, as she turned, she realized that his face was also familiar.

"Xander?"

A crooked smile; the same crooked smile as always. "Of course."

"Why are you wearing that?" She pointed at his white metal armor, complete with a helmet, shield, boots, and a sword.

"Angel gave it to me a while back." He shrugged, "Never really got the chance to show it to you."

Buffy frowned, "Isn't it a bit hot in there?"

Another smile, "Sometimes."

And he vanished.

"Xander?" She called out, "Are you here?"

He appears again, wearing worn jeans, a checkered flannel shirt and a tool belt. A yellow workman's helmet is strapped to his side. "Not yet, Buff."

"Where are you?"

"Someplace different."

"Bad?"

Another smile, "Sometimes."

"Can't you come back yet?"

He shook his head, "I have a few things to do here… A score to settle, amends to make."

"How long will it take?"

"Not long. I've already done most of it."

"Now there's only the hard part left." She spoke with him.

He chuckled, "Ever save the worst for last,"

"Lest ye never earn repast." She continued.

"Not very accurate," he added, "But I like it."

He faded out and in again, now wearing black denim pants and a black T-shirt. "What are you going to do about her?" He said, pointing across her to the mud-dirtied black girl, wearing white face-paint and tattered rags, who stood a few yards behind her.

"I'm going to beat her."

He smiled again, this time a bit sadly, "Don't, Buff. Don't fight her. Accept her." A soldier and a hyena faded in to either side of him, before walking into his shadow, and shimmering into him. "I have accepted my dark sides. You need to accept yours."

Her shoulders quiver slightly, "And if I lose myself in the dark?"

"Then I'll find you. And I'll bring you back where you belong."

"Promise?"

Another smile, "Always."

Finally, it was done. He let go of his bloody blade and collapsed on the ground. Soon, he'd have to get up and get back to Shishou, so he could transport him back to Sunnydale, where his friends were hopefully still alive.

In the wake of the great battle against Dom Kan'urr there was a strange sense of peace in Xander… And a strange emptiness, as well. For what had been for him three and a half years, he had but one purpose; defeat Dom Kan'urr. He couldn't let Selina's death be in vain, and he couldn't let that evil thing go free. And now, her death avenged, he suddenly found himself lacking a purpose.

It was an odd sensation – one he didn't fully recognize at first, but soon came crashing an intense relief. It was done. Finally, he could let go of his anger, he could let Selina's memory go – he could finally let her rest in peace. A tear flowed from his eye, as he bade her a final goodbye.

"I'll see you around, Stranger."

Angel could hardly spare a glance away from his fight with Vocah, but he noticed from the corner of his eye, the vampires turning into a swirling zephyr of dust. Suddenly, the dust turned a bright, glowing blue, and the swirling hastened. Vocah noticed this, and turned to face the vortex.

"No…" He murmured, "Something's amiss… That isn't the Beast… It reeks of battles against evil… The ceremony has failed–"

He was swiftly interrupted by a scythe through the abdomen, "Oh, what a crying shame," Angel snarked.

When he turned around in the direction of the cage, he found it, and the Wolfram and Hart people missing. Only Lindsey remained.

"Lindsey," He said, his tone as menacing as he could manage, "Give me the scroll."

He could hear voices from outside the box he was trapped in – the one he hadn't been able to open yet, owing to the dimensional shift taking a large physical toll on him. Suddenly, to his ears came a man's voice. It was mature, but laden with a sort of evil undertone that, for some inexplicable reason, reminded Xander of a lawyer.

"The senior partners," The man said, "Were very impressed with your sacrifice." There was a slight pause, "Trust me, we'll even the score with them."



"Yes, we will." Came another male voice, with a small southern twinge, and a hefty dose of sarcasm inlaid in every word.

"Beginning with what's in that box." The older man continued.

Suddenly, he could see through the bars of the cage a lithe brunette ducking to level with the only way to look in. "We are all very pleased you're here." She said, in an overly sugary tone that left little doubt she didn't really mean her words, "I know it's a bit confusing," She continued, "But it's going to be better soon – a lot better," She grinned, "Darla."

Darla? He thought, shocked; he hadn't heard the name in ages. And though he knew only one year had passed in lieu of his eleven, it still stunned him that she was anywhere under anyone's radar. I must be in the right dimension, anyway.

The woman moved to open the cage door, and as the hinges creaked, light poured in swiftly. When she opened the door fully, and looked inside, there was a look of shocked horror on her face. "You're not Darla," She whispered, her breath catching in her throat.

As he pulled out a kunai from his hip-pack, he bared his teeth in a smirk, "I knew I should've bleached."

Ding-dong

Buffy went to answer the door with a slight imbalance in her step; she was still a bit out-of-sorts from the whole Dracula thing a few days ago. It was only nine in the morning, so it couldn't be a vamp, but she was still slightly uneasy. Just in case, she grabbed a stake from a side table.

When she opened the door, her jaw slackened.

In the doorway of her house stood a young man, wearing black denim pants and a black t-shirt. On his thigh was a small rectangular holster-like pocket, his belt was lined with shuriken, and there was a katana strapped to his back, poking up behind his shoulders.

But the shock didn't come from the arsenal he paraded with in broad daylight. It was from his face – his all too familiar face.

"Hey, Stranger," He said, his lips twisting in that lopsided grin she was so used to seeing on that face, "It's been a while."

The stake fell from her hand.

"Xander…"

Well, that's it for now. I don't know when the next chapter will come, if at all. I do know, however, that things are only going to get wierder and wierder from here. And cooler, of course.

If you paid attention to the scene with Shishou (which is japanese for Master, in the teaching sense of the word), you may have noticed a word or two that may seem familiar from a very popular contemporary anime. This is intentional, as much of Xanders new fighting style will be based on that show.

If you had problems with Buffy's over-estimations of Xander (for instance, the post-Buffy-in-Faith's-Body scene), I have written an explanation for this in my opening comments. The line is the only one that begins in bold, aside from the disclaimers.

Thank you very much to those few of you who bothered reviewing an exceedingly short prologue. God bless you.

Ja ne,

Daniel Goldberg