Disclaimer- no, do not own, just like to play with.

Soldier

Chapter Seven

The trip back to his temporary home took shorter than he thought it would, but then again, by the time Xander realised he was standing in front of his door just staring at it, he was mostly asleep. Just as he was reaching for his keys, the door swung open.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"Working," Xander replied, yawning widely, and fell face first into the figure, who managed to grab him and somehow dragged him inside.

"Bloody hell, mate, you need to lay off them cheeseburgers," the figure grunted as he shoved Xander away and shut the door. A second later, the overhead light flicked on, revealing Xander's small motel room.

Already suffering from a headache, and in an effort to get some sleep, Xander slid down the wall, his eyes already falling shut as he muttered under his breath. "Ethan, please do me one favour and shut the hell up."

He heard Ethan sigh in annoyance and found himself jolting upright as a current of energy shot through him.

"Jesus, what was that for?" Xander growled, rubbing his chest with one hand. There were burn marks on his clothes and he grimaced down at his now blackened hand.

"For sleeping on the job," Ethan replied.

Xander glared at him, now fully awake thanks to that little spell. Ethan simply folded his arms over his chest and stared back. "Alright, already," Xander finally muttered, knowing that he probably wasn't going to win in any staring contest. "What are you doing here?"

"Technically, I'm not even here so that's one hell of a stupid question," Ethan replied, turning away to look around the room. What he was looking for, Xander could only guess at, and some of the answers his mind found were not pleasant ones.

A frown crossed Xander's face, "Hold on a sec', if you're not here, then how come I can see you?"

The other man rolled his eyes. "Most people would call it 'astral projection'. Others would probably say that you're hallucinating. And personally I'd go with the latter."

"So you're not here?" This was getting confusing, and considering the lack of sleep that was really starting to affect him, it would probably only get more so later.

"No, I'm not," Ethan frowned at a stain on the bed.

Xander rolled his eyes and attempted to stand, only to fall back down again. Ethan watched, mild amusement on his face, as the American slowly dragged himself over to the bed and hoisted his body up onto it.

Xander fell back on the bed, panting, once he was done, and silently cursed as he attempted to sit up again. Evidently, the spell that Ethan had cast was only a temporary boost of energy, emphasis on the 'temporary'. He felt his eyes shutting as all the energy left his body, leaving it limp and heavy.

"Hey, mister, we got no time to sleep right now!" Ethan's voice invaded his sleepy mind. "OI! Come on, wake up!

Xander muttered something about Ethan going away, or shutting up, he wasn't sure which because slowly Ethan's voice was fading away, and then something wet hit him across the face.

"For fuck's sake, Ethan!" he shot up, pulling the wet towel off of his face, and glared at the other man through tired eyes. Damn it, he really did not want to have to put up with Ethan's shit right then. "Ethan," he growled, waving the wet towel while Ethan looked on, amused, as Xander continued, "I have not slept properly all night."

"Shouldn't've used the winds, then," Ethan muttered under his breath. Naturally, he said it loud enough for Xander to hear, but for once, Xander ignored the comment.

"So please, at least give me an hour before you tell me whatever it is that you had to 'project' yourself out here to tell me." With that, Xander fell back on the bed, the towel already falling from his grasp as he heard Ethan mutter.

"Alright, already, no need to bloody shout. But one hour is all you're getting, mister."

And sure enough, precisely one hour later, Ethan woke Xander up by once again slapping the wet – and dirty – towel across the American's face.

X

The first thing that hit him was that his feet were cold. In fact, they weren't cold; they were freezing, and perilously close to being numb. His arms were wrenched around his back, almost dislocating his shoulders, hands tied to each other in what felt – and probably looked – like a Celtic knot.

"Ah, I see you're awake."

His head snapped up at the voice. He knew it, recognised it from… somewhere, but couldn't place where. He tried to look around, but something at his neck tugged him back down.

"Easy boy, I'm not gonna hurt you. Physically, at least."

He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes and tried tugging at his arms to get them loose. It didn't work.

"You do not want to do that."

"Why not?" he bit back.

"Because if you do that, then I drop this."

He heard electric crackling and the thing that dragged him down loosened so that he could look up. A black man stood three feet away, one hand raised, and bolts of lightning flicking between his fingers. He had a neutral look on his face, almost as if he was bored with what he was doing.

Xander frowned at him. The man shook his head and muttered under his breath, "I told you not to look up."

Xander tugged on his arms again as the man started to move. His arm came up like he was throwing a ball, but before the bolts could strike, something wet and heavy slapped Xander's face, effectively waking him up.

Xander cursed, swore, groaned and glared at Ethan when he woke. The Brit didn't seem in the least concerned. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest and paced from one side of the room to the other. He paused at the window.

"Forrest, right?" he asked as Xander threw the towel on the floor.

"What?"

"The guy you dream about." Ethan replied, turning to face the American.

Xander slipped off his shirt and sorted through his bag for a clean one. "He's one of Buffy's friends, I think."

"He's also a powerful warlock," Ethan said, turning to face Xander. "Wanted for any crime you could come up with in the late sixties, captured by the Council in the seventies, escaped after only a couple of days – you can guess what they wanted to do. After that, he went to ground, not been heard from since, then a few years back, he shows up in Sunnydale and sides with the slayer."

"How did he escape?" Xander asked, glancing over his shoulder. He knew how difficult it was to get out of Council headquarters as it was, even though back then they didn't even have security cameras, they at least had the magical advantage.

"Magic. It's one of his specialities." Ethan replied.

Oh goodie, Xander thought, "His favourite being?"

"Guess."

"Oh shit, not mind games." Sometimes, realisation was not a good thing. Xander ran a hand over his face, rubbing away the slight traces of sleep that had formed. That could mean that any time he was near Forrest, the other man could easily get into his mind and his thoughts. He was really going to have to be careful around that one.

"Bullseye."

"That's how he got out, isn't it." It was not a question, just an observation that Ethan was about to confirm.

"Oh yeah."

"Want me to take him out?"

Ethan shook his head. "No, orders are to just kill Finn, leave Forrest alone for now. The Council don't know where he is so we'll leave him for another time, if they ever find out about him."

"So why tell me about him?"

"Just giving you a heads up."

"Appreciate it. Now get out. I need to take a shower."

"Did not want to hear that." Ethan grimaced and started to fade before he reappeared again. "Oh, and they want me to remind you. You only got until tomorrow before they send the cleanup in."

"Thanks." Xander headed into the shower, a clean shirt over his shoulder.

X

He got out of the shower twenty minutes later to find his computer switched on and early morning light attempting to penetrate through the blinds over the window. Frowning at the clock, he slipped his shirt on and sat down in front of his computer.

The light overhead flickered off and on, off and on, over and over again, until he stood and flicked it off. There was adequate light coming in through the window by then.

Ethan had emailed him, sending him more detailed information on Forrest and Finn. He glanced over Forrest's file, and then turned to Finn's. There was nothing new there either, but there was a note at the bottom of the file. It looked handwritten, barely legible, and Xander tilted his head to one side to read it.

'Answer the door'

"What the…" he wandered aloud.

Timid knocking on his door made him start and look up. It came again, three short raps, and he shook his head, wandering who in the hell would be knocking on his door at seven a.m. Hopefully, it wasn't room service.

It was Willow.

The door was open before he could wander how the hell she had managed to find him and she smiled up at him softly. The thought then occurred to him that he hadn't told anyone where he was staying – he'd lied to Buffy about it, yes – but he hadn't told anyone his real address. So how had she found out that he was here?

"Hey," she said, her smile disappearing when he frowned at her. "Can I come in?"

"Er…" he tried to find a good reason not to let her in, but couldn't come up with one. "Sure," he stood aside and she brushed past.

Silently, he closed the door and asked the question that was nagging him. "How did you find me?"

She turned and grinned, holding up her hands. "Magic."

He gave her a look and the grin faded. "Seriously," he said, moving past her to where his computer was and turning it off. There was no need for her to see what he had been doing.

"Okay, okay," she dropped onto the bed. "I hacked into the motel database and searched for someone who was male, on their own and used to live locally. It came up with you. Here. And then me and Tara did a spell to confirm that it really was you here and it turns out that it was you. Here."

He smirked, same old Willow, always babbling when she got nervous. But inwardly, he frowned, they shouldn't have been able to find him if the spells that he'd put up to cover his tracks still worked. Of course, there was always a chance that they didn't since his little magical outburst the previous night.

"So… er… are you better?"

He frowned at her for a moment before he realised what she meant and smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine, just tired, is all."

"Are you sure that you're fine?" she asked. "You gave everyone quite a scare when you just disappeared."

"I'm sorry, just didn't want to be a burden," he told her quietly. He needed to steer this conversation well away from the direction that it was heading, otherwise he'd need to track down Riley, kill him and then skip town before the day was out.

"Xander, you're not a burden, you're our friend."

He closed his eyes at the sincerity of her words. No one had called him "friend" in years, not since he'd left Sunnydale and gone on to "richer pastures".

"Is Forrest right?"

"What?" he looked at her, confusion written over his face. What the hell did she mean by—

"He told us that you went out into an alleyway of demons… and that you had a gun."

Oh, that. "He doesn't like me, does he?" Sure, deflect with a question, like that's gonna work.

She looked away, uneasy. "He thinks you're not really you know… human. I think he told Buffy that you were a demon. She er… she didn't believe him."

"Well, what proof do you need? A truth spell," he asked, smiling at her. She looked up at him then, tears in the corners of her eyes threatening to fall.

"No," she said, brushing at the tears with one hand as she stood up. "I'd better get going, I have class."

He wanted to stop her and apologize, but the look in her eyes had stopped his blood cold. She didn't trust him, didn't know him. He was no longer the best friend that she had grown up with, and they both knew it. She was at the door before he could snap himself out of it.

"There's a er… meeting at Buffy's tonight… at eight," she said over her shoulder. She didn't look back at him as she closed the door behind her and he heard her footsteps moving steadily away.

Broken out of his reverie, Xander cursed and fell onto the bed.

"Thank God, I thought she'd never leave."

Xander groaned and silently prayed that he was dreaming.

"Do I have to slap you with another wet towel?"

No, he wasn't dreaming. He sat up and glared across the room at Ethan. "What do you want?"

"You have a mark to kill by tomorrow, you have no clue where he is and you're asking me what I want? Oh, that's rich." Ethan frowned around again as Xander rolled over onto his side, facing away from the annoying Brit.

"Go away," he muttered half-heartedly. God he was starting to get soft. Letting Willow inside had been a big mistake, he knew it, and somehow it was going to come back round and bite his ass off. Now he was in seriously deep shit. If Buffy or any of the others suspected what he was in town to do, he'd be dead faster than a--

"Look out the window."

"What?" he glanced over his shoulder at Ethan.

"Look. Out. The. Window. Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

"You just did," he said, lying back down again. Damn it, he was really too tired to be dealing with Ethan. What he really needed was a good long sleep, preferably on a jet plane at thirty thousand feet but he wasn't going to get that for another fifteen hours at least.

"So take a bloody look."

"Or you'll what?"

The towel landed on his face. With a sigh, he pulled it off, stood up and looked out the window.

On the corner opposite the motel, Willow and Forrest were standing and talking to one another. He wasn't sure, but he thought that he saw a third person with them, but that could easily be his imagination. He frowned at Ethan, who simply shrugged.

"They've been talking for a while," Ethan told him. "He's the one who brought her here."

"How do you know that?" Xander didn't take his eyes off the two as he spoke.

"I watched them from the roof."

"I need to get back to work," Xander said, closing the blinds and going over to the computer. As soon as he was comfortable, he rebooted it and started to work.

Tbc…