Title: The Hellmouth is Not Enough (prologue)
Author: Randall Stone
Disclaimer: All characters are belong to someone else.
Summary: England's newest secret agent draws Sunnydale duty.
Notes:
Spoilers: S1-3
Continuity changes: Hopefully everything will be explained in the
text. Bug me if anything is confusing.
Category: B/X
Rating: PG-14- nothing worse than what's on the show.
Feedback: Yes please.
*****
October 1999
Xander grunted as he was wakened by the ringing of the telephone.
He rolled over in bed and stared at the device, wondering who could
be calling. He hadn't given this number out to anyone.
Well, not to anybody outside of the room anyways. Xander smiled as
he thought of the woman next to him.
Sighing, Xander decided to pick up the phone before it woke anybody
else up.
"Hello?" The English accent that he had worked to acquire over the
last year and half came through clearly even at this ungodly hour.
"Harris. Finally. We've had a devil of a time finding you." The
voice on the other end carried the distinctive accent of an upper
class Englishman.
"I am on vacation."
"Yes. What the devil are you doing in Milan?"
Xander glanced at the dark haired beauty sharing his bed.
"Just brushing up on a little Italian."
"Well, you won't need any language skills where you're going. We've
got a job for you in America."
"So soon?" Xander had been training hard, but had yet to go on a
live mission.
"Don't worry, this is well suited to your abilities."
Xander knew that that was all of the detail that he was going to get
over an open line.
"We have a jet waiting for you at Malpensa Airport. The security
guards have the license plate number of your rental and will direct
you to your plane."
"OK, I'll get going. I should be there in about thirty-" Xander
looked to his right as the girl next to him woke up and stretched,
silhouetting her perfect form against the sunrise. Xander gave
momentary thanks to the combination of climate and culture that
encouraged Italian women to sleep in the nude, then realized that
he had trailed off.
"Make that forty five minutes."
*****
Author: Randall Stone
Disclaimer: All characters are belong to someone else.
Summary: England's newest secret agent draws Sunnydale duty.
Notes:
Spoilers: S1-3
Continuity changes: Hopefully everything will be explained in the
text. Bug me if anything is confusing.
Category: B/X
Rating: PG-14- nothing worse than what's on the show.
Feedback: Yes please.
*****
October 1999
Xander grunted as he was wakened by the ringing of the telephone.
He rolled over in bed and stared at the device, wondering who could
be calling. He hadn't given this number out to anyone.
Well, not to anybody outside of the room anyways. Xander smiled as
he thought of the woman next to him.
Sighing, Xander decided to pick up the phone before it woke anybody
else up.
"Hello?" The English accent that he had worked to acquire over the
last year and half came through clearly even at this ungodly hour.
"Harris. Finally. We've had a devil of a time finding you." The
voice on the other end carried the distinctive accent of an upper
class Englishman.
"I am on vacation."
"Yes. What the devil are you doing in Milan?"
Xander glanced at the dark haired beauty sharing his bed.
"Just brushing up on a little Italian."
"Well, you won't need any language skills where you're going. We've
got a job for you in America."
"So soon?" Xander had been training hard, but had yet to go on a
live mission.
"Don't worry, this is well suited to your abilities."
Xander knew that that was all of the detail that he was going to get
over an open line.
"We have a jet waiting for you at Malpensa Airport. The security
guards have the license plate number of your rental and will direct
you to your plane."
"OK, I'll get going. I should be there in about thirty-" Xander
looked to his right as the girl next to him woke up and stretched,
silhouetting her perfect form against the sunrise. Xander gave
momentary thanks to the combination of climate and culture that
encouraged Italian women to sleep in the nude, then realized that
he had trailed off.
"Make that forty five minutes."
*****
