Nine-Tenths of the Law Part One

TITLE: Nine-Tenths of the Law

AUTHOR: Lori Bush

EMAIL lwbush@charter.net

DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Xander and the gang belong to Joss Whedon and his cohorts. I'm trying real hard to stake a claim on a small piece of Xander, however. Please don't sue – my kids need to eat, and food money is about all I have.

PAIRING: B/X, and potential W/X, too, but very light. This is more a Xander story than a Xander and anybody story. It's my first – give me a chance.

SUMMARY: Xander becomes a psychic gateway for the spirits of the dead who have unfinished business on earth.

RATING: PG (probably being overcautious, although things could change)

SPOILERS: None.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This idea wouldn't leave me alone. I asked Danielle to look it over to make sure nothing was completely out of line, and she okay'd what I have so far (thanks, Danii!). I'm thinking it's set in the Junior year sometime, but I don't ever have them set foot inside the school, so it could be the summer before, maybe? That's what happens when you write without total immersion, so forgive me if a screw any details up. Other than Danii's once-over, this is unbeta'd.

~**~

Part One

~**~

Matsumi Miyamoto growled in his high-pitched, pitiful voice. Nothing here to inspire the fear a Samurai warrior should bring forth. Even the weak and clueless body that now held the spirit of his former employer, Rojin, the traitor that had double-crossed him and watched as he died, snorted in derision. Miyamoto held the advantage in *that* at least – he remembered who he had been, and what he had been capable of. He could even still do some if it. Rojin's spirit was buried too deep inside this other man to do him any good.

But at least Rojin's spirit rested inside a *man's* body. Even as powerless and overweight as that body was, it could take down a gangly teenaged girl. And that, for some reason, was where Miyamoto had found himself when his own spirit dove through the portal and returned to the land of the living.

He wasn't sure what had gone wrong. In the séance, Elena had assured him that she would find a body that met his specifications. He had already guided her to the place where she would find the Talisman that would open the Void, allowing his spirit at last to take its revenge on Rojin. He had clearly outlined his requirements – height, weight, age, build – everything he would need in a new body. So when the portal opened, he was certain he would need only to follow his finely honed spiritual senses to where the spirit of Rojin now resided, and slay his current body. It wasn't quite the same as it would have been if he could have killed the real man, back in Feudal Japan, but as revenge went, it would have to do.

Instead, when he arrived in the land of the living, Matsumi found his spirit had taken full possession of the body of a fifteen year old *girl*. And not even one in very good physical shape, for that matter. She was skinny, with oddly colored stringy hair, and an addiction to some weed-filled cylinders that had weakened her lungs. He sighed – all his efforts to return to the Void and try again with another body had been in vain – he was stuck in this one until he either completed his task, or killed it trying, he supposed. The Samurai had a fairly good idea of which it would be, too. When he attempted to remove the Talisman, it burned his fingers. So, ignoring the body's craving for those cylinders, he located the ritual knife he'd had Elena hide for him (at least she'd managed to get *that* right), and set off to find his sworn enemy.

Now, here he stood, the borrowed body bruised and beaten, clutching the knife in a last ditch effort to wreak his revenge. At first, the middle-aged body that unknowingly held Rojin tried to negotiate with the obviously disturbed young girl that had cornered him in the alley. Miyamoto grinned at that memory, causing the girl's swollen face to look even more distorted. He'd gotten in a few solid blows before the big fool began to defend himself. The blood running down the front of the white shirt the man wore bore witness to that. But muttering something about having played football, the grossly overweight man soon realized he *could* defend himself, and that appeared to be his only choice. Thus the damage to Matsumi's temporary home. Still, a knife beat fists, if used properly, and knives were something the Samurai knew how to use properly. With a gleam in his eye, he raised his weapon and bore down on his enemy.

The vision of something sharp and deadly and aimed at his chest seemed to spur the big man into actions normally beyond his capabilities. He dodged and bobbed, shooting a hand out to grab that of the girl. As he managed to pull the knife from her grip, he heard something break, and from the corner of his eye, saw an object fall to the ground. Then he decided that the world would be better off without teenaged punks who tried to murder respectable accountants in back alleys, and with a vitriol that might have been the first stirrings of the Feudal Warlord awakening within him, the former football player turned the knife on his attacker. Seeing the bloody result of his actions, he sprinted in panic out of the alley, reached his Explorer, and puked all over the front tire.

~**~

Before his blade struck its target, the Samurai heard a snap, and felt his spirit pulling away from the body and plunging back into the Void. Who knew how many lifetimes it would take him to find Rojin again? And he'd been SO close…

~**~

Miriam Hoffstettler couldn't help but wonder how she'd ended up in this alley, laying on the ground amidst the smell of garbage and urine. The last time she was aware of her surroundings, she'd been at her Aunt's apartment, searching her drawers for cigarettes, since Miri had run out. Her aunt was a little flaky, but apparently not a smoker. But, geez, her stomach hurt! She peered down – the amount of blood pouring from that hole in her abdomen could have something to do with it, she surmised. Funny – it was hurting less now, and things were getting a bit grey around the edges. A metallic gleam caught her eye, and she pushed herself to focus on that. Oh, yeah, the necklace she'd pinched from Aunt Elena's dresser.

When the Scooby gang came across Miri's body two hours later, her unseeing stare was still aimed at the Talisman.

~**~