I'd just like to say a big thank you to Fan Fiction for taking away the ability to do our own breaks in the story, this is yet another right taken away from the authors without telling us. I thought I was going mad when I uploaded yesterday, appears I'm not, if any of my other stories have the breaks taken out, its not me its the darned website.

This chapter is for Allyndra Sci, my former beta.

Twice Lucky

Divergence

Chapter 2: Rise of the Shadow

"Are you sure you want to go ahead and do this?" Ethan was standing in Giles' house with folded arms and a very large scowl. He still wasn't happy with Harris and how he had handled the whole Eyghon 'thing'; calling Angel to solve every simple little problem because they didn't want a certain Slayer knowing about their certain little past - and super-human abilities - was not the best way of doing things.

Okay, so he had to admit that the vampire had saved him and, yes, he did now owe said vampire for saving his butt – as did the rest of the old crew, who were also now in said vampire's debt - and, in extension Xander's - but that still didn't make it right.

A small part of Ethan fully admitted that it had been highly entertaining watching Angel and Eyghon battle it out; hell, even Xander had brought popcorn along. The only bad part of the confrontation had been the fact that the popcorn was sugared.

Americans!

No bloody taste…

The least Xander could've done was given him forewarning - that was the part that he didn't like: not being 'in the know.' Xander had simply scowled and remarked that, now, Ethan knew how he had felt in the previous timeline.

Set and match.

The young man nodded and pulled one of the dark pieces of an Oreo off and popped it into his mouth, then scraped off the white with his teeth and the last remaining piece followed suit. Ethan stuck out his tongue.

"Yeah," Xander nodded. He'd gone through Ethan's shop and had 'uhm'd and 'ah'd at all of the various costumes, deciding which ones to pick. Eventually, he'd settled on the allure of the Shadow, the being who could use telepathy to cloak the minds of his enemies. That would come in handy.

"If you're absolutely sure?"

Xander flashed a 'don't worry' look; after all, this was the Hellmouth. What could possibly go wrong? Ethan sighed and nodded.

"Yes, I'm one hundred percent sure; the night needs the Shadow. Besides, it'll be fun." Ethan smiled at the kid and agreed whole-heartedly. It would be a good night.

The next day

"Ah, excellent, Mr Harris." The small, snotty and arrogant son of a bitch who deemed to call himself a human being walked up to Xander, Willow and Buffy. "Being the responsible one of the group, I expect you to help and take control tonight."

"I thought we were supposed to volunteer."

"You are," Snyder said with a big sneer. He handed the clipboard to Xander with a nasty smile. The timeline, it turned out, was trying to revert back to normal. Some of the things that were happening then, were happening now. For instance: the arrival of Jenny Calendar and, now, Snyder. While Flutie hadn't been viciously eaten, he had suffered a mental breakdown and had taken some time off - which was a pity, as Xander had grown to like the man.

Snyder, on the other hand, was the same in this universe as he was the last: a nasty piece of work. Xander sighed, took the clipboard of him and signed his name; at least this now gave him the excuse he needed to get the costume.

"Excellent," Snyder nodded, mostly to himself. "Perhaps between you and Miss Rosenberg, we can keep that delinquent Miss Summers under control. There's no way I'm letting her burn down my school."

And with that, Snyder turned around on his heel and stomped off, barking at other students and making them sign the form. Xander turned around and looked at Buffy; the blonde rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.

That afternoon

Xander stood a little to the back as Faith perused the costumes, while Buffy and Willow made their choices. Willow was, as in the previous timeline, going with the ghost outfit. Buffy was lecturing her about showing off, but Xander knew better: they would have a far greater tactical advantage if Willow could walk through walls. Kendra and Faith weren't dressing up, and Giles had scoffed at the idea.

"Certainly not. They do not attend your school, Buffy, and therefore, are not bound by the school rules, as you are," he had mused. "And besides, should anything go wrong, it doesn't hurt to have another Slayer, or two, handy."

Buffy scowled at the man. "I thought you said 'nothing happens on Halloween.'"

"Miss Summers," Giles said in his school teacher tone. "May I remind you that this is the Hellmouth and that anything can happen, ergo, it is better to err on the side of caution."

Ethan was putting on the show, remarking how she looked like the hidden princess, and caught Xander watching from the shadows and winked. The costumes were chosen, tried on and tested. Xander had his wrapped up and they made their way home.

Faith smiled as he had walked down the stairs wearing the Shadow outfit; Xander had to admit that it felt right, like he had come home.

"Who knows?"

Xander smiled. "The Shadow knows."

They left the house and went to Buffy's, where they collected the Slayer and Willow. They met up with their assigned kids and started knocking on doors.

Ethan's shop

Giles stood in the back room with Ethan, the two men staring at each other. "So, you did this before?" Ethan nodded slowly.

"Yes, I had planned on coming to Sunnydale and casting a little chaos."

Giles mused, which meant that one of them had found out that he was performing the spell and had put a stop to it. Naturally, that meant Giles.

Ethan's smile was enough, he, too, had figured that out.

"Ready, Ripper?"

"As I'll ever be…"

"Quite," Ethan quipped, he looked at the statue of Janus and grinned. Ethan walked up to the statue and knelt down in front of it, as though in prayer. Clasping his hands together and wincing in pain, when he pulled them apart, blood started flowing freely.

Giles stood in the darkest corner of the room, at the back, and watched silently, fascinated by the display, a small smile on his otherwise impassive face.

"The world that denies thee, thou inhabit."

With two fingers placed together, Ethan dabbed them in his right hand and slowly, deliberately, his left hand smeared the blood over his right eyelid.

"The peace that ignores thee..." He repeated the process in the opposite manner, both his eyelids were covered in his own blood as a testament to his God. "Thou corrupt."

Xander looked up in his costume as the kids knocked on the door; he could feel the power in the air, the magik building slowly under the surface. He could hear laughter - deep, hollow and echoing - in his mind.

He dabbed the blood from his left hand with his right middle finger again and smeared a cross onto his forehead. "Chaos, I remain, as ever, thy faithful, degenerate son."

Outside

Immediately, there was chaos. It erupted everywhere across town as a multitude of costumes became alive: ghosts and goblins, gargoyles and robots, even cats were seen roaming and a witch's laughter could be heard, echoing in the moonlight.

Willow blinked and looked down at herself; realising that she had become a ghost, she saw the two individuals by her side - one, a frightened woman, who jumped and shrieked and the other, a very confused individual in a hat, cloak and suit.

"Lamont Cranston?"

The figure, who seemed much taller than Xander had been, whirled around at the sound of his name. He blinked and, suddenly, a different face appeared; a longer nose, greyer eyebrows and a hardier face, in general.

"How do you know my name?"

The form seemed to get larger as the shadows wrapped around him. Lamont went for her and plunged, much to his surprise, through her. "I know who you are because you aren't who you are."

Lamont was now even more confused than before. He sat and looked at the red-headed girl. "I do not understand."

He didn't understand, that much was true, and although he couldn't read the girl's mind - which, in itself, was something of a conundrum - he got the idea that she knew quite a bit about what was going on. Lamont picked himself up off the ground.

"For all intents and purposes, you are Lamont Cranston," the girl stated. "But you aren't; you're a spirit, occupying the host's body. Your body belongs to a close friend of mine called Alexander Harris, or Xander, as he prefers."

He didn't know what to believe - she had to be lying - and, yet, the chaos around him said otherwise: creatures running about growling and snarling; strange looking buildings, some he recognised and some he didn't; cars that looked so different, they had to be out of one of those futuristic comic books he'd read. He sighed.

"You have telepathy. Look into the host's mind and find the truth."

The Shadow, Lamont Cranston, did as ordered, sinking into the mind, past his own memories, and deeper still. When he went past the veil, he stumbled upon something that was staggering; something that was so far beyond him and everyone around him that it called to him and demanded he do something. Lamont was dead, long since buried in the myths of the past and reduced to a radio show. Lamont didn't know what was worse: the fact that he had been reduced to a mere comic book character, or the fact that evil pervaded every corner of the known world.

He shivered and looked at the red-headed girl, with her knowing eyes, and nodded once. The Shadow was needed - no, more than that - a hero was needed, and while he would only be truly alive for one night, it would be enough to set a string of events into motion.

Lamont smiled and laughed. It was a laugh that was deep and echoed throughout the streets; people looked his way and cringed back from the harshness of reality. "Tonight, the shadows will rise and the truth shall be known."

Willow beamed and blinked as, suddenly, Lamont was gone. She only hoped that she was doing the right thing.

Lamont decided that the best course of action was to minimize the damage as quickly as possible, which meant doing what he was doing now: going around and diverting problems, sinking into the minds of the victims and directing them elsewhere.

He kept away from the two Slayers who were helping, and the two Watchers; he even caught sight of the Technopagan running interference. It was then that he spotted him: Spike was standing near an alleyway with a fearful look.

The same time

"Oh bollocks..."

This was not good, not good at all. On several occasions, Spike had attempted to attack the little bitch of a Slayer, and had been beaten back fiercely. Then the Master had been vanquished and there were three.

Three Slayers… in his hundred-plus years as a vampire, he'd never seen three at one time. This, he knew, was cause for concern. And now, now Drusilla had gone and done this. The age-old crazy cow had gone and done it and he was now knee-deep in it.

"What have you done?" Spike flinched at a voice he'd heard once, a long time ago, recognising it now, he whirled around in a defensive posture, hoping to catch the man off-guard.

The woman he had loved for so long - the girl that Angel had driven insane and then turned - was rocking gently in the alley, a small child clutched in her arms. This was not good; this would bring down the full wrath of the Slayers, and that blue demon-thing that always lurked around. He was in deep shit and it stank.

"So pretty," the vampress cooed over the dead body of a small girl. "Crying for her mother, she's all better now." Her fingers gently pulled at a stray lock of blond hair. He was going to have to cover this one up, hide the body and hope that Dru hadn't turned her.

"Did you think that I wouldn't know?"

Spike lurched into the alleyway and freaked out as a voice - so low it was a whisper - spoke in his ear. He morphed his face and raised his fists, ready to fight.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Spike twitched towards the sound of the voice and lashed out, the darkness of the alley almost engulfing them. It was a good thing he had better eyesight than when he'd been a human. "An innocent; worse, a child."

"Who the bloody hell are you?"

"I think you know." Again, it was in a different ear. Spike whirled around, the leather jacket he'd taken from a Slayer so long ago, flapping in the wind.

"Impossible... you're dead."

He said it with finality. "Am I?" came a response, the laugh - a deep, echoing laugh that pervaded his very senses - lit up the alley. "You fear me, William. You fear what I know."

"I don't fear anything, I'm William the Bloody!" The laugh, this time, was mocking.

"I've killed armies, William; torn them apart with my bare hands." Again, the laugh. "You're nothing before me."

And then he was there, in all his glory - the shadows themselves, running away in fear as his long cape flapped about in the wind behind him… Hell, even the face looked the same; never a day older than William remembered. His hat, the long, black trenchcoat and even the red scarf were there… Yeah, it was him all right.

The man walked forward and looked down at Dru with disgust clearly in his eyes. He held out his hand and closed it; upon reopening it, a stake appeared. Spike took a step back.

"You know what you have to do, William."

"No," Spike shook his head.

"Do it," the Shadow demanded. "If you don't, I will."

Spike took the stake with shaking hands and clasped it close to his dead heart. Looking at the Shadow with a mixture of fear and anger, he walked over to Dru, who was still holding the child. Gently, he took the girl from her and placed her on the ground, then pulled Drusilla into his arms, holding her for the last time.

"Sing to me, William…" He whispered in her ear, singing a song he'd heard hundreds of years ago. When he was done, he plunged the stake in to Dru's heart. A single tear escaped his eye as the dust splashed all about him.