Seeds of Time The Reboot

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and universes that I am about to mangle around and mash together for my own demented author amusement - sadly all Buffy and Robotech characters and concepts remain the property of Mutant Enemy Productions and Harmony Gold respectively - I am merely borrowing them and make absolutely no profit from there use. As a result, please keep the legal attack dogs - also known as lawyers - firmly muzzled and on a leash as I have no money to give to anyone.

Author's Note: I know you're probably all going to be surprised to see this story again given that the original version was discontinued back in 2015. I will say that I was recently going over some of my older works, seeing what can be brought back to life and what should stay discontinued and felt like Seeds of Time really could do with another chance. However this time I will not be shifting back and forth between Sunnydale and the future events as that to my mind kind of broke the immersion in the story and honestly made it quite difficult to keep the story going.

Thus instead in this rebooted version we will be sticking entirely with the events in the future and how Xander navigates a world radically changed by the fallout of two robotech wars as well as the ongoing third war. Hopefully doing it this way will allow the story to continue on much longer than the original did. Okay now that's out of the way let's get cracking shall we.


Chapter One

The wind rustled through the hair of Alexander - Xander to just about everyone friend and foe alike - Harris as he drove out of Sunnydale, humming tunelessly as he did so. He had just passed the 'you are now leaving Sunnydale, please come back again' sign, the manicured lawns, ornamental palm trees and bushes that lined Sunnydale's streets giving way to the sandy soil and scrubland of the Mojave Desert.

He was so happy to finally be able to go on his long cherished long dream about a road trip around the continental United States. There had been a number of times in the last few years that he had thought he would never live to see it. Between the never ending hordes of vampires, demons and the odd attempted apocalypse there had been a few times when he had to admit he'd thought his goose to be well and truly cooked. Somehow they'd all survived it and now he was finally able to go on his nationwide journey of self-discovery.

I just wish, Jesse was here to enjoy it with me, he thought feeling a momentary surge of pain at the thought of his brother in everything but blood. They'd both dreamed of this for so long, talked about and planned it for so long. It had been one of their biggest dreams for the future,one that had died two and a half years ago when that undead bitch Darla took and turned Jesse into a vampire. A vampire that he had had to dust to save Cordelia. This is in your memory bro, he thought as a memory of Jesse's face as he had been before he was turned flashed through his mind. He determined then and there to really enjoy this journey in his friend's memory, then when he got back go to his empty grave and tell him all about it.

He'd been driving for about an hour, enjoying the peace and quiet as he hadn't bothered to turn the radio on - between living with perpetually drunk, always arguing parents and the supernatural he had learned to really appreciate the quiet, he hadn't been lying after all when he'd told the sentient zombie Jack O'Toole that he liked the quiet - when he abruptly became aware that he suddenly was no longer alone in the car. Now what, he thought with a mental sigh of annoyance before glancing at the passenger seat. He wasn't surprised to see a small, somewhat mousy looking man sitting there. A man who was dressed in a very nineteen seventies style, a man who he knew was not really a man at all. Instead he was a demon, an employee of the Powers That Be called Whistler.

"What do you want," he asked, inwardly smirking slightly as his inner sci-fi geek realised how much that made him sound like a certain Mr Morden from Babylon 5.

"We need to talk, kid," Whistler replied even as he smirked himself having also caught the reference. Enjoyment of human science fiction was one of his few guilty pleasures and Babylon 5 was honestly one of his favourites, certainly he preferred it over Star Trek. Though he had never directly interacted with Xander Harris before now he'd always liked his sense of humour. Hell he'd laughed himself silly the first time he had heard him call Angel deadboy. "Do you mind pulling over so we can talk without risk of causing an accident? Yeah the roads clear right now but you never know when big rigs are going to come along."

Xander sighed again. "All right," he replied, reducing speed and flicking on a turn signal before pulling over to the side of the road. "All right, Whistler, what do you want?"

"You know who I am," Whistler asked surprised, before realising that he shouldn't have been as he was aware that Xander Harris was far more observant, and far more intelligent, than most people believed. That beneath the facade of the clown that he presented to the world lurked a very capable and dangerous man capable of making the hard choices and not flinching when he did so. It was something that had made him quite infamous among the demonic community, and it was something that they really needed for this.

"Of course Buffy's described you often enough. Whistler, you're a "balance" demon," Xander answered, "you work for the Powers That Be."

Whistler smiled and nodded, Xander knowing who he was and what his purpose was made this easier. "That's right," he confirmed.

"So why are you here? Sunnydale's back that way if you want Buffy," Xander stated gesturing over his shoulder at the road leading back to Sunnydale.

"I know but my business isn't with the Slayer this time," Whistler answered. "In fact, it's you I need to speak with."

Xander blinked in surprise. "Okay, about what?" he asked after a moment resisting, just, the impulse to frown as he wondered what the Powers That Be could possibly want with him. He was just a normal human after all, he had no special powers like Buffy or Willow.

"Believe it or not my bosses have a favour to ask you, something only you can do since you're not bound to a specific destiny like Buffy or your witch friend, Willow."

"As much as I appreciate the compliment, Whistler, to quote the G-Man stop beating about the bush," Xander replied, "what exactly do the Powers want?"

"They need you to prevent the end of the world."

"Again!" Xander exclaimed. "It's not even Tuesday. So which demon or other supernatural nasty is trying to end the world this time around?"

"That's just it; the Powers don't exactly know," Whistler answered, sounding a little embarrassed, reflecting the way his bosses were feeling about the whole situation. The Powers That Be had long since gotten used to being able to use their power to see whatever they wished to see and direct events according to specific plans. The fact that they couldn't right now had caused them quite a bit of upset... and had a few of the other higher powers like the Elders laughing at seeing the normally quite aristocratic and aloof Powers running around like a bunch of headless chickens trying to figure something out.

"Since the Powers exist outside of time as you mortals understand the concept, they can tell that it's happening and when," he continued resisting the impulse to wince at the memory of the ribbing his bosses were getting from the other higher powers, no matter how well deserved it was. "But not what precipitates it."

"So what is it and when?"

"The time is forty-five years from now," Whistler explained. "As to the event itself, one of the Hellmouths is violently ruptured, torn completely open. What the cause of the rupture is, we have no idea. All we know is it wasn't magic that acted as the initial catalyst for the breach, but the result of it is obvious and devastating: the Old Ones are coming through in massive numbers. They're reclaiming this plane after being banished for so long."

Xander shuddered at the thought of the Old Ones returning and ravaging the world. He still had nightmares about the battle with the mayor post-ascension. That had been one hell of a difficult battle, the worst against evil he'd ever fought in, and considering their battles with the likes of The Master, the Judge, Acathla and Angelus, that was saying something. He was fully aware that they'd only really succeeded against Olvikan because Wilkins hadn't yet been at his full power, that the transfiguration from a six foot tall, one hundred and seventy pound middle aged human male into a sixty foot long, twelve and a half ton snake demon had drained almost all his century worth of accumulated mystical energy - preventing him from using any of the Old Ones potent dark magic against them. Even with that energy handicap, the sheer physical power of the monster Wilkins became meant that they'd barely defeated him and even then there had been casualties with both Larry and Harmony losing their lives.

Thus the prospect of having to fight full strength Old Ones filled him with a combination of horror, fear and dread. "Can't the Slayer stop them?" he asked, feeling as though his blood had turned to ice.

"Unfortunately, by that time, there are no Slayers left. As far we can tell, they're all dead."

"What?! How?"

"That's one of the things that the Powers want you to find out, as all we know is, twelve years from now, something will happen, some kind of massive energy discharge of a kind we've never seen before. It will cloud the Powers' ability to see the mortal world and cost most of our champions, not just the Slayer.

"Of course the bigger issue is finding out what causes the Hellmouth beneath Cleveland to rupture so suddenly and catastrophically more than thirty years later," Whistler continued. "We need you to find out, and if possible find out what ended the line of Slayers, so we can put measures in place to prevent both events."

"And just how am I supposed to find all this out, Whistler?. I can't travel in time."

"Normally that would be true. Temporal magic was largely denied to mortals for a reason; as your Willow friend found out when she inadvertently summoned that vampire version of her from a parallel timeline, it can be very dangerous if you don't know exactly what you're doing. That is why I'm going to send you forward in time," Whistler answered.

"Okay, so why do you want me to do this? Wouldn't it be better to send someone like Buffy forward in time to find out what you want to know?"

"Remember what I said about you not being tied to a particular destiny?" Whistler reminded him. "What that means, Xander, is you are a true instrument of free will, and while that has caused a few headaches for my bosses in the past, what with your very annoying habit of breaking the occasional prophecy, that makes you ideal for this. Because if we move you through time, the forces of darkness won't notice in the way they would immediately notice if we moved Buffy or your witch friend. Notice and immediately take steps to counter."

Xander couldn't help but smirk slightly at Whistler's declaration of how he occasionally thwarted prophecy, especially when his friends were in danger, causing the Powers to have a few headaches. Maybe it would teach them to make fewer lousy, cryptic, annoying prophecies in the future, though somehow he doubted it, as he got the distinct impression that the Powers That Be were a group who, like the Watchers Council, were very set in their ways.

"So what's your answer?" Whistler asked.

"Is there no other way of finding out what causes the Cleveland Hellmouth to open," Xander queried. Somehow he wasn't surprised when the balance demon shook his head in the negative. Of course there isn't any other way! Why would there be? We're never that lucky, he thought with a mental sigh, resigning himself to the fact that his road trip was going to be very different to what he'd planned it to be. He knew that he had to do this, the thought of not doing it and finding out what caused the end of the world - so they could stop it - never even entered his mind. He had fought against the darkness too long to let it win now. "All right. I'll do it."

Whistler smiled in relief, as the Powers had been worried that Xander would say no as they couldn't just draft him into this, like they would most other humans, for the simple reason that the Old God Janus was known to favour the boy, the old rascal deriving endless pleasure from the chaos Xander sometimes caused the Powers with his constant interference with some of their plans to serve the Balance. A few times, they'd even tried to mentally influence Slayer Summers and the practitioner witch Rosenberg to push him away and thus reduce the likelihood of future interference in their plans, only for it never to work that well or last for very long.

The fact that they now needed Alexander's help themselves, for the same reason they'd tried to push him out of the fight, was the ultimate irony. And one that's no doubt causing Janus no end of amusement, Whistler thought with a mental groan, knowing the old Roman deity - hell all the Old God pantheons would be laughing their collective heads off at the irony. They certainly would not let the Powers forget this one for a few centuries at the very least, and a few millennia if they were feeling especially vindictive about the whole thing.

"Excellent," he said. "As soon as you begin driving again a portal will open in front of you. It will take you forward into the future. Now before you go, the Powers would like me to give you two things. First this," from a pocket Whistler produced a small silver and gold talisman in the shape of a triquetra. It was mounted on a silvery chain that could be worn around the neck. "Once you know what exactly causes the Hellmouth to open, activate this talisman and it will return you to this time within a few weeks or months of leaving. You can activate it just by holding it between your hands and willing it to activate."

"Looks expensive," Xander commented as he accepted it from Whistler and placed it around his neck, alongside the celtic-style crucifix he had worn everyday since he'd first found out about what went bump in the night. It had saved his life on more than one occasion. "What's to stop someone from taking it from me?"

"It's enchanted," Whistler explained, having expected the young human to ask the question as it wasn't in his nature to accept such things blindly. "The spell means that only you, and anyone you chose to show it to, can see it and even then only you will be able to remove it. If anyone else tries it will immediately return itself to its place around your neck. Once your task is done we will let you keep it, though the spells on it will end and it will just become a normal talisman."

"I see. What's the second thing the Powers want you to give me?"

"This," Whistler replied, holding up a hand, which was now filled with a whirling ball of silver-white energy.

"What is it?"

"It's kind of a reward from the Powers for agreeing to do this," Whistler replied. "It will help you survive both where you are going and when you return here to the present. And don't worry, this doesn't make you a champion for the Powers like Buffy, Willow, or Angel." Not that it wasn't tempting to try, but Janus would never let the Powers get away with something like that, he thought he thought with an inward wince knowing the storm that would have caused on the higher planes as divine politics made mortal politics look like a child's game "It's just a way for us to say thank you. Take it, please."

"What will it do," Xander demanded, instantly wary of magic. Unlike Willow he knew that where magic was concerned caution was the way to go. "You should know magic never quite works right around me."

Whistler smiled. "That's because you never actually cast those spells Xander," he said knowing what he was referring to. "Like all humans you actually have the potential to use some magic yourself, elemental magic especially if I am not mistaken. As for this sphere I am told that it will not only grant you full access to the knowledge and skills imprinted on your soul by the soldier spirit you were possessed by on Halloween but give you some of the abilities of the primal hyena spirit that are also imprinted on you just currently blocked."

"It's not going to take me over again is it?" Xander asked, instantly worried. Though he had said otherwise to the girls he well remembered everything he had done when he'd been possessed by the hyena spirit from eating Herbert - which was why he couldn't even look at bacon these days without feeling sick - to attempting to rape Buffy. It had spawned more than a few nightmares over the years, more than anything else he'd seen and experienced since Buffy first came to Sunnydale.

"Good heavens no," Whistler hastened to assure him. "Like the soldier you were possessed by, the hyena spirit is gone. However such possessions always leave an imprint in the host that with the right magic can be activated otherwise it will slowly fade into the background though never entirely go away. What we are giving you will give you permanent access to those abilities and skills, they will not overwhelm you. You will still be just with a few extras that might help you survive. Now please take the orb."

Xander hesitated for a few more moments, mentally debating with himself if he really wanted to do this before deciding that he would need all the advantages he could get if he was to accomplish this vital mission, before reaching out to take the energy orb from Whistler. The moment his hand touched it the energy was absorbed into his body, running through him with a jolt almost like an electric shock.

For a moment nothing more happened and he began to suspect his luck with magic had struck again. Then a strange warm feeling suddenly came from somewhere deep within the very fibres of his being, it spread like wildfire throughout his whole frame and suddenly felt himself changing. Felt incredible strength rush into his limbs as his previously loose clothes suddenly became tighter - though not uncomfortably so - as his frame suddenly expanded with a sizeable amount of pure muscle. Simultaneously a blizzard of information on everything military from tactics, to weapons and how to improvise explosives out of commonly available items - far more than he had already known and used against Mayor Wilkins when he built the bomb that ultimately killed him, destroying Sunnydale High in the process - swept through his mind.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, but was probably really only a few seconds, the deluge stopped and the warm feeling faded away. He couldn't help the gasp that emerged from his lips as his whole body shivered with the reaction to what had just happened. "Man, that was a rush," he commented. When Whistler didn't answer he looked around…

…to see that the balance demon had vanished. It was almost like he had never been there at all with only a faint lingering scent in his suddenly enhanced sense of smell letting him know that indeed Whistler had been there.

"Sheesh balance demons really need to learn some manners," he muttered to himself, "he could have at least stayed long enough to wish me good luck or something."

With a sigh he shook his head. There would be time later, hopefully, to grumble about the complete lack of manners most demons - and not just balance demons - had well at least as human beings defined manners. Right now it was time to get this show on the road so to speak, he just hoped he was up to the faith that the Powers had ironically invested in him to find the reasons for both the end of the Slayer line and the end of the world a few decades later - presumably because there had been no Slayer around to stop whatever vampire or demon had been stupid enough to attempt and suceed in opening a Hellmouth.

He took a few deep breaths to prepare himself for whatever was to follow, remembering what Whistler had said about a portal opening ahead of his car as soon as he started driving again, before restarting his car's engine. After putting the convertible's hood back up - he had no idea what the weather would be like in the future after all and this car was dilapidated enough as it was without adding rain damage to the cab to its list of things that needed fixing - pulled out onto the quiet desert road.

Within seconds, he became aware of a change in the air, calmness like the eerie stillness that preceded a big storm. A few feet ahead of him, the shimmering haze of the midday heat thickened and began to distort. A strange silver-green glow, both eldritch and ethereal, began to suffuse the thickening haze. As he drove ever closer, the distortion in the haze grew stronger and stronger, until a great glowing aperture appeared directly in his path.

Without hesitation, he drove straight into it.

And suddenly, it was like he was flying down one of the wormholes from that cool sci-fi show Stargate SG-1 that he sometimes watched on television when he wasn't out patrolling with Buffy and the others that was. For what seemed like forever, the shimmering, silver-green walls of the wormhole twisted and turned, the car following them without any input from him as it was now completely out of his control. A white light appeared ahead, presumably marking the end of the temporal wormhole, and he reached it in an instant.

For a moment, all he saw was a bright white light…

….then suddenly, the car was falling through the air, having appeared nearly three metres above the surface of a badly decayed and eroded roadway partially obscured by the shifting sands of the desert that stretched into the distance all around. The car hit the disintegrating asphalt surface with bone-jarring force, and with it having been maintained just enough to be roadworthy by Uncle Rory, a few things happened almost simultaneously as a result.

First, the force of the impact snapped the suspension springs with a loud series of metallic cracks, splinters of broken metal from the springs flying into his tires causing four instant punctures. At the same time, the shock disabled the engine and ruptured the radiator, sending up a huge cloud of steam and dumping boiling water onto the surface of the badly decayed desert road. Finally, the transmitted force of impact knocked Xander forward into his automatically deploying air bag and instantly robbed him of consciousness.