Part Three
Los Angeles, California. March, 2000
Angel advanced cautiously towards his target, taking his time and keeping his eyes and ears open. He mused to himself, { I swear, I'm *really* not sure about this... } The one and only vampire with a soul then looked around, not seeing anyone.
The former Angelus had had a difficult three months or so. Angel had been meaning to continue his hunt for Xander, he really had; but the life of a Champion is never easy, and something or another always seemed to pop up and distract him.
Not long after he and Wesley had had their little scuffle in the alley, his childe Penn had shown up in town. The shared dreams had started, and Penn had tried to go on a killing spree, before he'd been stopped with the aid of a wooden two-by-four and an almost-deranged lady cop.
Then Cordelia had lost her virginity to a human male who had impregnated her with seven infant demons, and she'd woken up the next day 9 months pregnant. Luckily, he and Wesley had killed the Hacksaw Beast father, and saved her life before she'd given birth along with the other surrogate mothers.
After that had come the other-dimensional "space princess" called Jhiera, and the slavemasters who were after her hide. Again luckily, he had kicked ass and warned them not to bring their war into *his* city, or he'd kill them all.
Then had come the Ethros demon, the drug-trafficking demons, himself ending up a gladiator in a slave prizefighting ring, as well as that stupid actress that had wanted him to turn her and unwittingly unleashed Angelus for a short time...
It was damn lucky that while under the influence of those drugs, his evil alter ego hadn't told his friends the news that Xander was still alive. Fortunately, there hadn't been enough time; besides...the vampire had been too busy anticipating how much he'd enjoy crucifying Wes and raping Cordelia, and *then* spilling the beans to those two - just to see the looks on their faces...
That was why Angel had finally broken down, and gone to see the Oracles about his search for the man now with STW. And the pair had been annoying in their usual way, although they'd become skittish once they'd realized what he had come to them for.
Angel remembered the conversation perfectly. The male Oracle had looked at him and said in deep annoyance, "You, yet again?"
The female had then added, "What have you brought us this time?"
Angel had subsequently thrown over an expensive piece of crystal, with a slight flaw in its center. One that, from a certain point of view...very much resembled a hyena. "Zarlythian crystal. Circa the Murshan Dynasty."
"Lovely. As always," the sister Oracle murmured appreciatively.
"Thanks, but I need help. Help to find a lost soul," Angel had then gotten straight to the point.
"Who is this soul of whom you speak, lower being?" the brother had brusquely demanded.
Angel had then taken in a deep, unnecessary breath. "His name is Xander Harris."
The duo had quickly looked at each other in alarm. "He speaks of the lost warrior. The one lost in time, and space, and meaning..." the woman had said nervously.
The Oracles had then refused to tell him anything very helpful. Only that Angel couldn't leave Los Angeles to find his old acquaintance; that he had his own path to follow, just as the former Zeppo did.
However, they had sent him to this abandoned warehouse to tell the people he'd meet there, to go to another place. That the one he sought would need help there. That he couldn't give it; it had to be the humans he would seek out. That was all Angel could get from the Greek-looking duo; and given the circumstances, it would have to do.
The vampire walked into the deserted building. "Hello? Anyone here?" Angel called out, only to be greeted by silence. "Great, they sent me on some kind of wild goose chase?" he muttered to himself. { I should go back and really tear those so-called higher beings a new one... }
At that moment, he heard the faint rustling of someone moving, coming from near the doorway at the other end of the room. Angel looked across and saw a small figure starting to run away.
"Wait!" the Champion called out, and started to run after the child with vamp speed. Angel could now see it was young woman, "I don't want to hurt you! I just want to talk-"
Angel was so intent on following her, he almost didn't hear the creak in the floor behind him. But luckily at the last moment, Angel sensed that he was under attack, and started to react. He jumped with not a second to spare, and avoided being hit full-on by a huge crossbow bolt that was hurled towards him, receiving only a glancing blow.
The Dark Avenger was knocked off balance enough that he couldn't effectively respond though, when a man popped out of the shadows and quickly tackled Angel. The momentum knocked the ensouled vamp to the ground at once. He tried to get up, but was knocked right back down again.
"Stay down, you!" growled the young black man who had tackled him.
Angel could suddenly see several others emerge, from various hiding places throughout the warehouse. All of them looked to be teenagers, or even younger. But nonetheless, they were all armed with various stakes, swords and axes.
"Hey, get off me! I'm just looking for someone-" the undead dude who loved Barry Manilow started to say.
His captor didn't seem to care much. "Yeah, right, and who's that?"
"You. I think? Look, I was told to come talk to whoever was here. And right now, I'm guessing that's you?"
The man who had tackled Angel just looked at him for a few seconds, with a skeptical air. Then his eyes narrowed in anger, as the bald black man's face shifted to an expression of hatred. "Shit! He's not breathing. It's a goddamn vampire! Somebody, gimme a stake!"
"No, wait a minute!" Angel protested vainly, as one of the teenagers ran forward with a wooden stake.
Seeing his protests weren't getting anywhere and his un-life was now in danger, the vamp reluctantly shoved really hard, and forced the man looking to stake him back a few feet. Angel rolled over and jumped to his feet, assuming a fighting stance. "Look, I don't want to fight you..."
"Too bad, whitebread," said the man who'd attacked him. "'Cause I wanna stake your ass, and fighting's the way to do it!" He lunged with the stake, and with a clever feint Angel dodged to the left. The others in the room started cheering the attacker on...
Angel tried to get through to them. "Please! I'm just looking for a friend!"
"Well, you've got no friends here!" was the growled response.
Angel danced back but didn't retaliate, as his attacker swung again at him. "I can tell that, already. But I was told you or somebody here could help that friend!" Angel's hand went to his pocket, where he had the picture of Xander he had brought.
"Really? Now, why would *we* help any friend of a damn bloodsucker? And a white middle-class one, at that?"
Another swing. Angel again dodged, only this time he didn't see the leg sweep until it was too late. He tumbled to the ground, the picture in his hand falling onto the ground. The attacker followed up with a few quick kicks to Angel's side, enjoying himself just a little *too* much.
Angel rolled away, and jumped back up. He then blocked the succession of blows that were thrown at him and shouted, "Come on! The guy needs help! And I can't give it to him!" Angel was getting frustrated. "You've got to help him. Please..."
"You givin' me orders!? Now that's rich, even if you weren't already dead..." Another punch that was blocked, then one that got through. The vampire couldn't help it; Angel's face vamped out at the pain and anger.
The black man then got a feral grin on his face, "Look at you now, all fang-y. Not that it matters none, but just for the record? You wasted your time comin' here, with the big speech. 'Cause any friend of a vampire is someone we don't want to help-"
"Gunn!" Angel's attacker jumped at the shout of the black girl, who the vampire saw had been the one he'd initially chased. She had picked up the picture that Angel had dropped in the fight. "Look at this, big brother!"
"Busy now, Alonna. Talk to me *after* I make this thing all ash-y!"
"Not yet. He's got a picture of Army Guy!"
The one that was called Gunn looked intensely at Angel, and suddenly stopped moving. "All right, you got five seconds. What have you done with Harris?" he growled at Angel.
Angel was surprised at those words, as his face turned human again. "Huh. You actually know Xander?"
Gunn and the other homeless kids looked confused. "Xander? We don't know any Xander, white man..." Gunn glanced at the photo his sister showed him. "This here is Harris. Stand-offish, but we owe him. Soldier boy took out a nest of vamps for us 'bout 13 months ago, later he disappeared and ain't no one seen him since."
Angel nodded, that had been about the time the former Scooby had shown up in Sunnydale. "He goes by Xander now. How well do you know him?"
Gunn sneered, all attitude. "Now, why should I answer your question?"
"'Cause I think he's in trouble. I've known him ever since he was in high school. Xander was supposed to contact me five months ago, but he never did. I can't leave LA to find him, and I'm thinking he needs help. In other words, you guys."
"I don't know..."
Angel continued on, as Gunn's face screwed up in doubt, "Look, I got this from some people who were pretty vague on the details, but they've never given me false info before. Please. If you want, don't do it for me - do it for him."
"He's that important to you? You go help him then," Gunn had relaxed just a little bit, still he was on guard in case something went south.
Angel shrugged. "I already told you - I want to, but I can't; *someone* has to fight the good fight here in LA."
Gunn looked at Angel with skepticism. "A vampire, fightin' the good fight? I think you got your wires crossed, somewhere on the wrong side of reality here! You're on the dark side of the Force; sorta comes with the being undead thing?"
Angel was starting to get impatient. "Listen to me. If I was still the same evil soulless bastard I was 100 years ago, all of you would be dead right now! But I got traded to the side of the good guys a long time ago, thanks to some pissed-off gypsies. Look, I'm Angel-"
"Angel, of Angel Investigations?" one of the onlookers named Bobby asked. "'Cause I heard some things on the street lately, about them being on the right side of things."
Alonna shrugged, looking somewhat surprised. "I heard that on the street too..." She turned to her brother; a living woman who would be dead right now, if not for Xander staking the vampire called Knox all those months ago. "Gunn, I'm not saying trust the bloodsucker, but we owe Harris. If Army Guy's in deep shit, we gotta help out," she said in response to Gunn's questioning look.
The Gunnster turned back. "All right, assumin' you're on the level. What exactly does Harris need?"
Angel sighed, { I hope the Oracles know what they're doing... } and started to tell Gunn what he needed to do.
Chattanooga, Tennessee. A week later
Xander patiently cooked his own breakfast. Growing up as the neglected son of two drunks, he had learned to cook for himself early on in life. He actually enjoyed it. It forced him to slow down, and make sure things were done right. Kinda like carpentry had been for him, in another world that now only he remembered.
The young man pondered for a second, the memories of the 'past future' - as he had taken to calling it. There were some good memories there. Pride in the job he'd had in construction. His engagement to Anya. The friendships he'd had. Those memories were much more pleasant than the ones he had now, of this new world that had been made.
Not that the old ones had been all peachy, of course. There had been more than enough heartache in them for any sane man to endure.
Jesse being turned, Kendra getting killed, Cordelia never really forgiving him for Willow, Joyce's death, Buffy's sacrifice, his leaving Anya at the altar, Tara's murder, his losing an eye at Caleb's hands, and Anya's subsequent death while fighting the Bringers...
Xander was hoping to change what he could in this new 'virgin territory', as Cleburne had taken to calling the future that was developing now. He knew some things had changed already. Warren Mears wasn't around to kill Tara now; and he had left a number of time-delayed letters for Giles, that also included information about Joyce's medical condition. He hoped that would be enough.
The former slave had told Hollins and STW about Caleb. He didn't know if they had found the demented preacher yet, or even if he had become tainted that way by the First at this time. But the ex-soldier had gotten a promise that nothing would be done about Caleb, without telling him first.
Because Xander Harris wanted to be there, when Caleb was...dealt with. He had missed out on that opportunity originally, and he didn't intend to miss it a second time.
He had been able to get that promise, as a result of that meeting in December when he had first met the Wizard, a.k.a. Dr. Irving Hollins. And the freer flow of information both ways had borne fruit.
Cleburne was happy, when the first tidbit he could act on arrived. It was the plot to bomb LAX on New Year's Day, 2000, by al-Qaeda. STW, knowing it had been coming and that the materials would be smuggled down from Canada, had been able to intercept it quite easily.
Well, actually, it was perfectly set up to react when a customs official had discovered the bomb materials in a random search of a vehicle at the border.
Just as in the original history. Nothing had been changed. The fear of altering the timeline too early was firmly recognized by the Wizard, and those he worked for. Nothing overt was being done to ensure that history proceeded along more-or-less the same lines as before, until the time was right.
Xander stirred the eggs, while keeping an eye on the sausage as it sizzled. Siberian Trip Wire had kept the promises made by Hollins. Security was less onerous than before. He didn't have those asshole 'house mates' anymore shadowing his every move, although he knew that they were still nearby. His weapons had been returned to him. And the training facilities were much more complete than they previously had been.
Also, the facilities were better overall. Xander had been moved after the meeting in Illinois, and it turned out he had been living in what STW used to house defectors and the like in. It was comfortable enough; but then again long-term occupancy had not been the intended purpose of the apartment.
Now, Xander was undergoing a tour of medium-sized cities of the southeastern United States. Every month or so, he was transported to a new site. The lodgings were those used by STW for their own operatives. The comfort and longevity levels were, accordingly, higher.
The first place he had moved to was a beachfront house near Charleston, in South Carolina. It would have been nice staying there...in some month besides January. Then it had been a house in an exclusive suburb in Birmingham, Alabama. Now he was in a studio apartment in downtown Chattanooga, Tennessee.
Xander wasn't quite sure why he was being limited to the Old South. When he asked the question of Cleburne all he got in reply was a chuckle and the statement, "Hey, you go with what you're comfortable with. Besides, do you really want to spend January in someplace like Anchorage, Alaska?"
To which Xander had to concede the point. Even though it still felt damned cold to the southern California native, he knew it was far worse further north. Xander did, however, slowly find himself getting used to it. He even managed to go jogging, with a companion of course, without freezing to death. The jogging was part of his training regimen.
The training had been paying off for Xander in other ways. He now had access to most of the same training facilities that the STW operatives used. Using what remained of his soldier memories, his hand-to-hand combat skills had progressed to the point where he was not totally embarrassed in sparring with his minders. Although those men had been astonished at his reflex speed...
Well, when a seven-foot-tall demon often kicks or punches at you to start working harder in Hell, you learn what you can to try to get out of the way.
His marksmanship was progressing nicely also. Xander was determined to be prepared this time, if and when the First made its move a few years down the road. Also, any rematch with Caleb was going to turn out *real* differently this time.
Of course, the downside of STW keeping its promises was that Xander had been exposed to Cleburne's idea of a sense of humor.
The second week of January was when the first knock on the front door of the house he was staying at had come. He had encountered something he had never really had a reason to fear, before now that was.
Mormons.
Without fail, no matter where he was staying, once every two weeks or so Mormon missionaries visited him. They knocked on the door, were unfailingly polite, well-mannered and soft-spoken, and asked if Xander wanted to talk about converting to the Mormon church.
At first, Xander had thought it was a fluke. Then when they had also shown up in Birmingham, he'd known it wasn't a fluke. He had immediately complained to Cleburne about it, the first chance he got.
The immediate response had been another chuckle and, "Hey, kid, what do you expect? You wanted looser security, and now you got it."
At that moment, Xander had known it was Cleburne's idea of a joke. He knew Cleburne wasn't a Mormon, since he had never heard of Mormon who cussed and drank coffee and alcohol like that. But, somehow, the Mormons were the secret agent's idea.
{ Well, it could be worse; those guys are never pushy and actually brought me honey a couple of times, } Xander thought, as he put the toast on his breakfast plate along with the sausage. The eggs were just about done.
Once a week or so, the 11-year-old Hollins showed up for a day-long session with Xander. Cleburne normally also attended these sessions. They usually took place wherever he was staying, although on at least two occasions he had been flown back to Urbana for the meet.
The sessions covered a variety of subjects - from the September 2001 attacks, to the world that most people refused to acknowledge existed. They were more in-depth than the other sessions he'd had.
Hollins seemed to have a method of information-gathering that careened all over the map, though. Xander recalled that at one session the child had spent over an hour quizzing him on what he had eaten on September 11th. Xander hadn't realized that he associated the details of where the hijacked planes had taken off from with Mars bars, but it turned out he did.
{ Who the hell would have thought that I would associate memories with food? } Xander thought to himself as he put the eggs on his plate, not realizing the irony that anyone who had ever seen him eat would *expect* him to associate memories with food. The size of his appetite had become something of an inside joke, with those tasked with watching over him.
Xander put eggs on his breakfast plate. He looked to make sure that he had made enough. His house mates had a habit of showing up around the time he had finished cooking whatever meal it was time for. Thus, he suspected this meal would no different.
Harris walked over to the breakfast table, and placed his plate down. He then walked back to the kitchen counter, picking up a coffee mug as he did. "Grub's ready," he called out, suspecting that he would be heard. "Food's done!" Then the former Sunnydalian picked up the coffeepot, ready to pour himself a cup of java.
But suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. The soldier memories cried out in alarm, { Danger. Danger! Danger! } Xander looked around to see the threat, but didn't see anything. He hesitantly stepped forward, still gripping the coffeepot.
There was glittering in the air, Xander noticed. It seemed to be in all corners of the room, and then it started to mass towards the center of the room. "What the..."
Xander quickly shouted, "Hey, guys! Incoming-!"
The glittering came together, and five men appeared in the center of the room. One of them, sporting a bloody nose, immediately collapsed as a second man hurried to his aid. The other three looked around the room, spotting Xander as they did so.
"There he is, get him! Quickly!" one cried out, as the other two started to flank Xander's position.
Xander backpedaled as they advanced. "Uh, people, I think you took a wrong turn at Pismo Beach. Or maybe if you back-tracked, and turned left at Albuquerque..."
The one advancing in the center spoke up. "Alexander Harris, by order of the..."
That was as far as he got, before Xander threw the coffeepot at him. The man tried to block it, but only succeeded in shattering the urn, which spilled the hot coffee on him.
He started screaming, as the scalding liquid burned him. Xander ignored it; he just turned to his right, ready to face the next attacker.
The attacker took a swing at Xander, one that he easily dodged. The man seemed a little lightheaded, though. { Probably still a little woozy, from whatever spell they used to pop in... } Xander quickly threw a punch at the guy, knocking him back against one of the counters.
"A little help here, guys!" Xander shouted out, hoping that his 'house mates' were close enough to hear him and the sounds of the struggle. He dodged the arm thrown out by the intruder he had just punched. { Maybe this whole privacy thing may have not been that good an idea? }
Xander heard a crackle to his left and jumped at the last moment, barely avoiding the taser thrust forward by the third attacker. Xander grabbed the arm and pushed him forward, the taser shocking the second assailant. The guy jerked involuntarily at the contact of 50,000 volts and slumped back against the counter.
Xander, keeping an arm lock on the taser-holding arm, turned to see the first attacker crawling forward. "You bloody bastard!" the man muttered, betraying his English diction as he climbed to his feet.
Seeing Xander's attention momentarily distracted, the taser-bearing guy dropped the weapon and swept his leg forward to kick Xander in the back of his left knee. Xander felt his knee buckling. He released the grip on the arm, and rolled forward; the young man letting his momentum carry him out of reach of his attackers.
The newly-freed kidnapper reached down, and scooped up the taser he had dropped. He gripped the taser and advanced on Xander, with his coffee-soaked companion also advancing slowly behind him.
Xander scrambled to his feet, and assumed a combat stance. The soldier memories whispered in his head, { Great care required. Two attackers present. One will distract, while the other takes the shot. } And sure enough, the two attackers separated from each other and tried to outflank Xander.
The Xandman jockeyed a little bit, trying to keep both men off-balance so as not to be rushed by either one. { Just need to delay, the guard dogs should be here soon. But damn it, why aren't they here yet? }
The others obviously realized this also. "Hurry up!" the one on his left muttered to the other.
Xander braced himself for the next attack. When suddenly, his army instincts kicked in screaming a warning, { The others, the others! } Xander shifted his attention real quick.
The two men who had hung back during the fight were now approaching where Xander was. The hair on the back of his neck actually managed to stand up further, as he saw those two approach.
They certainly didn't look like operatives or soldiers. Academic types, maybe. { Caution required. Appearances are deceiving. Never underestimate the enemy, } the ghost of Soldier Guy whispered to him.
The warning proved prophetic, in the next few seconds. The one who had collapsed, still sporting a bloody nose, threw out his hands and chanted something in Latin. Xander instantly felt himself get thrown across the kitchen, hitting the wall hard.
{ Damn, a warlock, witch or wizard! } Xander scrambled to his feet, his ribs aching from the impact.
The man again, after shaking his head in pain, began to bring his arms up. Xander grabbed the pan that had held the eggs, and threw it at him. The mage was too slow in dodging; the pan glanced off his left arm, and he staggered back.
Unfortunately, this gave the man holding the taser the opening he had been looking for. He leaped forward before Xander, whose aching ribs were slowing him down somewhat, could react and hit the former slave with the taser.
Xander slammed back against the wall again, his body shaking in convulsions. He tried to get up, only to be hit with the taser again. The wizard hurried up and whispered another phrase in Latin.
Xander felt himself going to sleep, even as he tried to fight it. He was unsuccessful, and felt himself surrendering to the darkness as his body slumped to the floor.
The men who had attacked him hurried forward. The one who had been drenched in coffee leaned forward, and kicked the unconscious X-man. Hard.
"Damn son of a bitch. That hurt!" he growled at the helpless Xander. "Now come on, hurry up!"
Finally, the sounds of men running in from the other parts of the house could be heard clearly, as the intruders dragged Xander into the middle of the room and helped the stunned member of their group.
The door to the kitchen swung open, and two men wielding pistols came running in. "Hold it!" the lead one shouted out.
The man who had stayed back during the fight, raised his arms and shouted out a phrase in Latin. He clapped his hands together, causing the attackers and Xander to vanish in another cloud of glitter.
The two STW operatives left behind advanced cautiously into the room. "Oh, shit," the lead agent muttered under his breath. "Cleburne's gonna string us up by the nuts for this..."
Georgetown, Washington D.C. Twenty minutes later
Esther Marcum listened impatiently, as the person on the other end of phone finished up talking. The woman then snapped, "Well, I'm not that concerned RIGHT NOW about how they got in, or how they found him. What I want to know is, where is he? And how do we get him back!"
She glared out the window, looking at the Washington skyline, the sun rising in the sky. The response took a minute or so. Marcum then said, "No idea at all? Well, it strikes me that an operation of this type had to have *some* support on the ground. They couldn't just drop out of thin air..."
There was another long response from the other end of the phone conversation. "Yes, I know that! But even though they vanished into thin air, they had to have come from somewhere and go to somewhere. What does the video feed show?"
Esther stared out the window, noting a traffic helicopter slowly moving across the horizon. "You recognized none of them? Well, have you converted all the video footage for email transfer yet? Good, at least that much is done. Now email the file to Gulag at once, and we'll take a look at it..."
Mrs. Esther Marcum listened some more. "Oh, I also hope that you find something soon. Because I suspect Cleburne may not be as patient with you as I've been..." Marcum listened for a second. "Yes he knows, I talked to him just a few minutes ago. He's hopping a plane back from Gibraltar; what with flying nonstop to your location, the man should be there in a few hours. I imagine he'll want to go over everything that's happened. What? Yes, he seemed quite...disturbed at this turn of events..."
While the person on the phone started to babble, Marcum smiled to herself; Cleburne had probably used more swear words in more languages in the minute after he had learned what had happened, than most people probably even knew existed.
"Not to worry; I'm sure the fact that he's spending several hours in the back seat of an F-16 as it blasts across the Atlantic, will let him get in touch with his inner child or whatever, and make him be calm and at peace when he lands there..."
Esther then listened to the other end again, for a few more seconds. "No, just be thankful we couldn't get an SR-71 to the Rock like he wanted. At least this way, you have a little time to get your affairs in order before Hurricane Cleburne lands!"
The woman again listened to the response. "Yes, let me know what you find. I'll let Gulag know to be on the lookout for those video files!" She hung up the phone, and sighed to herself. { People popping out of thin air. Things were so much simpler, when it was just the Soviets and terrorists. These other threatse with their special resources have made things so damned confusing... }
A mental sigh. { Better see what I can do about finding a target for Cleburne to take out his anger on, besides our own people. } Esther picked up the phone again; like the kidnappers, STW had access to some special resources of its own.
She quickly dialed a number that was definitely not available to the general public. { I had hoped to save this as our hole card, but I guess we'll have to play it right now. } "Hello, this is Siberia. We have a Black Alert. I need an emergency retasking immediately."
Unknown location
Xander Harris slowly regained consciousness, his head throbbing in pain. { Man. Why does this crap keep happening to me? I'm cursed, that's what it is... }
"Hullo, kitten. It's been such a lonnnnnnng time..."
Xander focused his eyesight, at hearing the female British accent. He saw that he was sitting in the back of an armored car. His hands were handcuffed above him, to a hook in the ceiling. The vehicle was clearly moving at a fast clip, from the motion he could feel. But what really got his attention was who sitting across from him.
"Drusilla?"
The nutty vampiress smiled. "You look so 'andsome and strong! I just knew I'd see you again..."
Xander shook his head, and blinked his eyes. The motion of the vehicle did not help him deal with the pain he was experiencing. { Great, now I'm imagining things. Damn nightmares... }
She leaned forward suggestively. "It's no dream, kitten. Aren't you glad to see me 'n all?"
Suddenly, Xander began to get suspicious. If this wasn't a dream - and now he didn't think it was - in the few times that he had encountered her, Dru had never acted like this. She was acting way too...
Sane.
At that moment, Xander's stomach twisted when he realized who was sitting across from him. "Well, well. If it isn't the First..."
Dru/the First gave him a naughty wink. "Clever boy. Couldn't fool you, could I?"
Then the First Evil morphed into another British vampire. A male one with bleached-blonde hair, and a coarse North London accent. "Nope, no point in even trying. 'Cause we're beyond that crap, aren't we mate?"
"What do you want?" Xander asked as emotionlessly as he could.
Spike/the First laughed. "Well, to talk o' course! But ya know what? I can tell, whelp, that you're not at ease with what I've currently got on. So why don't I slip into something a little more-"
Then it morphed again, into a brunette woman that held a very special place in Xander's heart.
"-comfortable. Hey, boy toy. How's it going?"
Faith, the vampire Slayer.
Faith/the First was dressed just as Xander remembered, both in this world and the original history. Red tank top, black leather pants and boots. The image of Faith leaned back and put her left leg on the bench she was sitting on, resting her arm on it also.
For a fake imitation, she looked pretty good. Actually, she looked smokin' hot, period.
"Come on, stud, nothing to say to your old squeeze?"
Xander strained to get loose, furious at this outrage. "You're gonna pay for this! Stop looking like her. She's not here, don't you dare defile her memory like that!"
Faith/the First smirked. "Now I'm hurt. Look at me, Xander; I certainly look like I'm here, don't I? Besides, wasn't that long ago you had a much different reaction whenever you saw me at nights. Remember?" she leaned forward with a feral grin, and wiggled her ass.
"Back then, we never thought to give those a try..." She nodded her head at the handcuffs. "Something to keep in mind though, for next time."
"Kinda hard, since my ex-girlfriend's dead!" Xander had truly regretted Faith being killed at Graduation. His future memories hadn't prepared him for that; she had been supposed to live and eventually fall in love with the man called Robin Wood, who was probably out there right now looking for his mother's killer somewhere.
Faith/the First winked at Xander. "Hey, stud, can't keep me down. I'm coming back. Set things the way they ought to be."
Xander glared at the First Evil. "Things *are* the way they're supposed to be! Now stop being-"
The brunette laughed and said in that sexy Boston accent, "Yeah, yeah. Your one and only cherry-poppin', accept-no-substitutes Slayer. Miss me?"
"How could I? We've never even met before now!" The man saw no reason to give away knowledge of memories of the 'past future' for the moment.
The First slowly leaned back, letting Xander get a good look at Faith's body. "Oh, come on! We've met. Met quite often, back in Sunnydale 1998. You enjoyed our meetings, as I recall. Got all hot and sweaty during them."
"That wasn't you," Xander growled back.
"That was Faith, yeah; but FYI, Faith is in here, stud. The real thing, I kid you not. There really is a piece of her talking to you, right now. A piece that if I was corporeal you would *really* like, ya know?" Faith/the First grinned evilly at Xander.
The former slave snarled, "No wonder Buffy kicked your ass that Christmas! So, is this your grand plan? Just to come here and talk dirty to me? 'Cause I'm thinking your reputation really is pretty overrated, if that's the case!"
"Who said anything about having any master plans?" She glanced around the compartment. "Real fix you got yourself into here, boy toy."
The young man tried to calm himself. "I'll get by. I'm a survivor. It's what I do."
"Yeah, right. You're really handling it well! Funny, but I don't see your new friends around..."
Xander stayed silent, not responding to the First's jibe.
It went on, "Then again, you're totally used to being abandoned, right? Almost directly outta the cradle. Your parents - man, they shoulda been neutered after they had you! Remember before B showed up, how much they wanted you around? Betcha by now, your old bedroom is full of empty beer bottles and used car parts..."
{ Be careful. The enemy wants to get inside your mind. Don't let it, } the soldier memories whispered to him. Already, the old instincts of how to survive being a POW were coming back into play.
"Buffy and her little pep squad, they sure as hell abandoned you. Especially that Cordy chick, remember? Man, I hated her! They all left you there to die outside the Bronze, just 'cause you upset the almighty Slayer. Awful place to die, my opinion. 'Cause, I can think of so many other better places to go out with a bang! Like my bed, while I'm screwing your brains out..."
The First smiled maliciously. "Yeah, good ol' B and the Scoobs, they really went out of their way to screw you over. You just weren't good enough for them, I guess. Don't worry though, you were always good enough for me. Damn, I even wanted to have your children there for a while..."
"I'll ask again. What do you want?" Xander tested the handcuffs, doing his best to ignore that last shot which tore a bloody hole in his soul; but they held tight.
"Told ya, boy toy, to talk. Who else you gonna talk to? Don't see your new friends riding to the rescue. Probably won't, either. After all, why would they?"
Xander just glared at the First, trying to make it explode with his thoughts. Which was pointless, but nonetheless satisfying.
"Think about it, stud; you've already given them what they want. They know what's coming now. Only thing you can do for them anymore is fill in the blanks, which is something they can eventually do themselves. I figure deep down, they're happy to be rid of you! Let someone else handle the hassles of keeping you safe. They got better things to do..."
Xander remained silent, giving the ancient evil nothing to work with.
"Look, sweetheart. You want out of here? Sure you do, you don't wanna be cooped up as this bunch starts raping your mind. 'Cause these guys that took you, they'll tear it into shreds. Just say the word and I can get you out. What do you say? Mmm-mmmm, I can also make it worthwhile in ways you can't even imagine..."
Xander looked at his nemesis, as he slowly said five words. "My name is not Caleb." And for the first time, the false image of the First Evil appeared shocked and startled.
The First leaned back against the side of the armored car, morphing into Buffy Summers as it did so. She looked at Xander with a pouting smile, "Well, I gotta say, Xand; aren't you full of surprises? Ya know, I think I'm finally beginning to understand why all this fuss is being made over you..."
Xander glared at her. He was feeling great anger, although he couldn't tell if it was due to the fact that the First Evil was sitting across from him - or that it was using Buffy's form.
"Buffy's not dead. So, how-?" the guy suddenly demanded. { And hey, no headache? Either it's because I know she isn't the real deal, or it's something else. I'll have to remember that, for the future. If I have one, that is. }
"Not dead now, yeah, but I was. Remember? Well, I was only gone for a minute. Then I got better. You and Angel, you guys brought me back. Well, actually, *you* did it while he just stood around and looked like an idiot. And did I ever thank you for it? Maybe at the Bronze, months later...anyway, I surely thanked Angel. A lot! Oh, and did you enjoy making out with me? As we both know you ended up getting a raging hard-on, after giving me the kiss of life that night..."
Xander growled wordlessly, as Buffy crossed her arms and leaned forward, looking into the guy's face.
"Okay, let's get back on track. I was dead, fine. Gone into the light and everything. Like the inevitable lamesass prophecy said. Then you came charging in like the proverbial white knight, not caring about anything except saving me. Because you loved me? Oh, please! You brought me back, being my knight and all, but still - a bit of Buffy remains in here..."
She tapped her hand over her chest. "'Course, then you had to go and lie to me that day, about the plan to get my one true love back. How could you, Xander? Were you *really* that jealous?"
"Damn you," Xander growled, not sure if he was saying it to the First or to Buffy. "And just for the record, I don't need to justify myself or my actions. Not to you, or anyone else! I did what I did to save the world. And I stand by my decisions, no matter what anyone else's opinions may be..." He paused then said firmly, "Plus, if the *real* Buffy couldn't make me crack over that, what in the hell makes you think you've got any chance to do so?"
Buffy/the First just smiled back in return. "I've gotta admit, having watched your little antics over the last year or so, I'm beginning to think maybe - just maybe - I really did back the wrong horse when I chose Angel..." She smiled seductively at Xander.
Xander was surprised to realize that a portion of his brain was actually happy at hearing that comment. The soldier persona quickly stepped up though, { This is not the Slayer. Classic psychological warfare. Counterattack if you can... }
Buffy/the First continued on before he could do so, "Still, after what you did, I abandoned you. Left you to die. Like everyone else." And then suddenly, it was Angel sitting in front of the prisoner.
Angel/the First said with a sneer, "Paint it any way you want, but everyone knows that you lied about my soul being restored, that you manipulated Buffy to fight me all-out. To send me to Hell, if possible. Well, here's the joke, boy; you're the one who got sent to Hell instead. Or a reasonable approximation thereof. Irony; don't you just hate it?" The vampire then shook his head with a sadistic smile on his face.
Xander subsequently realized that it was supposed to be Angelus, not Angel, sitting there. He snorted, "You honestly think looking like *that* is gonna make any impression on me? Please! If I could make the real Angelus back off in that hospital, way back when..."
Suddenly, the First Evil morphed into a face and form he'd not seen in ages. His lost then-best friend, the 15-year-old boy named Jesse McNally - that he had dusted at the Bronze during the night of the Harvest, back in 1997. "Hey, Xan. Good to see ya, after all these years..."
"YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!" Xander screamed in instant loathing. "Don't you dare use his face-"
Jesse/the First sat upright on the bench. "Hey, you wanted someone that would make an impression! 'Course, that doesn't mean I'm still not upset about you stealing my girl like that. Really, how could ya do that buddy? I mean, you and Willow knew how much I loved Cordelia..."
The ex-PFC had had enough. He shouted at the First, "You must really be bored, huh?! I mean, you spending all this time talking to me. I thought you were out to conquer the world? Seems to me you're just trying to torture me, by boring me to death!"
"Hey, no, dude, I'm not the one that's gonna be doing the torture thing. That's for them to do," the First pointed to the door.
The image of Jesse, was suddenly replaced by that of Dr. Maggie Walsh. "And that's a waste. You show such aptitude. Such promise. There's a vein of pure ruthlessness and viciousness that is just crying to get let out. The way you dealt with the others and myself? Very impressive..."
The image of the college professor looked down at a clipboard it held in its arms. "A question, if I may. Do you think your friends, old and new, would really appreciate your murderous behavior? They all seem to have these morality issues, that get in the way of such things..."
The former Zeppo fought to calm himself down. He needed to be focused for what was coming. "I did what I had to. I stopped a lot of bad stuff from ever happening, and as for the cost to my soul - that's strictly between me and God. But the way I figure it, just this once; the end justifies the means." { Which includes not having Glory force Buffy to have to give up her life, to save the world. Therefore she isn't raised from the dead, and the forces protecting the Slayer line aren't disrupted the way they were originally... } "Too bad if some plans of yours were spoiled."
Walsh/the First checked something on the clipboard, and then looked up. "You go right on believing that if you wish. But I think both of us know better. Nothing has changed. I'm still coming to overrun this world."
Then it morphed into Buffy again. "Just remember, I can get you out of this mess anytime. All you have to do is play ball. And hey, it's not all bad being on my team! You can get to do all the things to her, that you've ever fantasized about. Pay her back for everything she did, if that's what you want. Over, and over, and over again..." Buffy/the First winked seductively at Xander.
Xander bit back a curse, furious at the incorporeal monster. The First continued on, morphing finally back into Faith, "Looks like the ride's coming to an end, lover..." The armored car was indeed slowing down. "One more incentive for you to sign up with the winning team. Because no fooling, I can bring Faith - your Faith - back. What do you say?"
Xander felt his stomach lurch at that statement, as he considered *all* the implications - and he suddenly froze in fear, as something unspeakably horrible occurred to him. Faith/the First just smiled at him though, with a grin that he remembered quite vividly from when they were 'dating'.
"That's right, man-meat. All this can be yours again..." She leaned forward, giving Xander a good view of her cleavage. "You think about that, while they're ripping your mind apart!"
The First then vanished in a short burst of white light, as the door to the armored car started to open.
Georgetown, Washington D.C.
The remains of the salad sat in its bowl on the desk, the shadows from the midday sun lengthening out behind it. Esther played with the phone, waiting for the connection to be made. After a few seconds, she heard what she was waiting for.
"Cleburne? We've caught a little bit of a break. Another review of the video files came up with an ID match on one of the attackers." She paused for a second, gathering herself for what was coming. "Thing is - he's a cousin."
That got the reaction she'd more-or-less expected. And if Cleburne hadn't been stuck in a cockpit over the Atlantic, she was absolutely sure the screaming male agent would have thrown his phone out of the window.
Marcum continued on, "There's no doubt in my mind - it had to be the Watchers. And they used some sort of magic they had access to, somehow. But if they're using the cousins for ground support, we can get an idea of where they're operating out of...yes, don't worry, I'll make our displeasure at all this *very* well known to them!"
She sighed, as the response continued on. { Good Lord, he has got to be violating so many FCC regulations regarding vulgar language over the radio waves, that I wouldn't be surprised if we received a visit from a SWAT team... }
"Look, according to Hollins they had to be close by, in order to perform that sort of teleportation spell. Keep heading to Chattanooga and if I get anything more specific, we'll vector you in on it. Until then, I suppose there's nothing more to say - Cleburne, for heaven's sake, that's no way to talk to a lady!"
Esther hung up. { God help us, I *really* hope that he can't fire any of the weapons on that plane onto downtown Chattanooga, Tennessee... }
TBC...