Title: From Sunnydale, With Love (Chapter One)
Author: Randall Stone
Disclaimer: All characters are belong to someone else.
Summary: Meet Xander Harris. His new incredible enemies. His new
incredible adventures. The same incredible woman.
Notes:
Spoilers: S1-3
This follows _The Hellmouth is Not Enough_, so you should read
that story first.
Category: B/X
Rating: PG-ish- nothing worse than what's on the show.
Feedback: Yes please.
*****
The two fighters circled each other, probing for an opening. After
numerous feints, there was a flurry of activity as the two engaged
each other at close range. The fight was over quickly, as the loser
conceded the battle and swam off to greener pastures.
The two men in the room turned their attention from the fish tank
to each other. Both men carried themselves quietly, but in a manner
that spoke of power hidden beneath the surface. It was the man
behind the desk who spoke first.
"Siamese Fighting Fish. Fascinating creatures. Brave, but on the
whole, stupid. Yes, they're stupid... except for the occasional one
such as we have here, who waits. Waits until the survivor is so
exhausted that he cannot defend himself. And then, like SPECTRE, he
strikes."
"The parallel is amusing."
"We did not arrange for you to come over from Wolfram and Hart just
for amusement, Number Three."
Holland Manners nodded once in acknowledgment. He had only left
Wolfram and Hart after long contemplation of his alternatives. Not
that he believed in any silly notions like company loyalty- Holland
knew that the only thing that matters in this world is power. And
should Wolfram and Hart's plans come to fruition, he knew that the
only power that he would wield would be as some demon's lackey.
And Holland didn't plan on being anybody's lackey. He would rather
be a big fish in a smaller pond. It was this simple calculation
that had led him to switch his loyalties. Of course, Wolfram and
Hart was not yet aware of his change of heart.
"You have considered the plan?"
The question brought Holland's mind back to the present.
"I have. It's complex, but I can pull it off. I have somebody
working for me who is tailor made for the role- he's ambitious, but
naive."
"A useful combination."
"Indeed. I was hoping you would provide somebody to be the heavy."
"Of course. Here are files on some people who have proven useful
in the past."
The man behind the desk passed a stack of manila folders across to
Holland. He picked them up and skimmed through them, before one
file in particular caught his eye. He pulled the folder from the
pile and spread it out on the table.
"Here. He would be perfect."
"A fine choice."
"Can we really get him for this job?"
"I wouldn't waste your time if we could not."
---
Spike dug into his Chow Main as he flipped the television over to
the Passions marathon. The food didn't sustain his body, but he
enjoyed the texture. Chinese food always brought back memories of
a happier time for him. A time before Dru- the ringing of the
hotel phone interrupted his thoughts.
"Bloody- nobody has this number. Must be the front desk again.
What could they be calling about?"
Spike was still mumbling to himself when he answered the phone.
"'ello?"
"Hello, William."
"Number one." An involuntary shudder ran through Spike's body.
"I have a job for you."
"No way. I'm through with you lot. I told you that."
"I was afraid you would say that. Do I have to remind you how you
failed to complete your last job?"
"That's because it was James bloody Bond. Nobody ever managed to
kill him. Did they?" Not receiving a response, Spike continued.
"Anyways, I don't see how that-"
"You know how our organization feels about failure, William. I've
been lenient with you due to the extenuating circumstances of the
time, but the fact remains that you owe us a debt. I'm offering you
a chance to repay that debt."
Left unspoken was the other, less pleasant method that SPECTRE used
to collect on debts.
"Fine." Spike sighed. "I could use a spot of violence anyways."
"I'm glad you've decided to be reasonable."
Spike listened as he was given the details of his assignment. He
hung up the phone with a smile.
"If he'd just told me what the job was, he wouldn't have needed that
whole song and dance routine. This will be fun."
Spike hummed happily to himself as he walked over to the figure
lying bound and gagged in the corner of his bedroom.
"Now, the good news is that I'm not going to have you for breakfast
tomorrow, because I'm leaving town tonight. The bad news... well, I
think you can figure that out on your own."
---
TWO WEEKS LATER
"Sir, you wanted to see me right away?"
Xander stood in M's office. He was dressed in his usual suit and
tie. Only his slightly tousled hair and the bags under his eyes gave
any indication of the lateness of the hour.
"Yes, 007, this came to us through our special channels. I'm afraid
that the Slayer, Buffy Summers, has been the target of a hostile
spell and is deathly ill."
"What?! Who did this? I'll-"
"Compose yourself, 007! We all know how important the Slayer's well
being is to the safety of us all. If you can't conduct yourself with
the necessary restraint- and professionalism- I will send 008 in your
place."
Xander took a moment to take a few deep breaths and visibly calm
himself.
"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't. Now, as I was saying, Buffy is in some sort
of a coma. Judging from some of the things that she is saying and
from this symbol which has appeared on her arm-" M laid a photograph
of a glyph on Buffy's arm on his desk. "We believe she has been the
target of a spell from the Scroll of Aberjian."
"The what?"
"It's a scroll containing ancient prophecies and rituals that was
thought to be lost. The spell essentially forces the victim to see
and to some extent experience everything evil that transpires around
the world. A normal human would only survive for a day or so. We
think the Slayer will last a week, maybe two. Fortunately, the same
scroll that contains the curse also contains the cure."
"Who has the scroll?"
"It was thought to be lost for centuries. We now have reason to
believe that the scroll is the possession of Wolfram and Hart, a
Los Angeles law firm."
"An American company? Are the police going to confiscate the scroll
from them?"
"Believe it or not 007, the LAPD is not eager to tangle with a
powerful law firm to retrieve an item of merely occult value." M
sighed. "The American authorities will look the other way on this
one, but will not provide active help."
"So I'll be going it alone, then?"
"Not exactly."
---
"Tell me again why you guys aren't out there kicking some lawyers'
asses?" Cordelia was clearly upset.
"Cordelia, you know how I feel about Buffy. I'd be out there doing
everything that I could to save her life, but the Powers That Be say
that it's not my fight." Angel winced as he sat down behind his
desk. "They were very persuasive."
"Not to mention that Wolfram and Hart has vampire protection up to
here." Doyle commented as he sank down onto the couch in Angel's
office, rubbing his temples. "And the Powers are stepping up the
visions to keep us busy."
"So we're just going to sit here and not do anything while Buffy's
dying in Sunnydale? That seems kind of lame."
"'Delia, there's nothing we can do." Doyle explained. "We just
have to wait for the champion that they've chosen for this task."
"What, is he going to walk right through that door?"
The silence after Cordelia's question was broken by the jingling of
the bell as the door to the office opened. Cordelia automatically
started to recite the agency motto.
"Angel Investigations, we help the- Xander?"
"Cordy."
Xander stood in the doorway to the office. Xander looked a lot
different from how Cordelia remembered him. He was wearing a grey
suit and carrying a black attache case, and carried himself in a
manner that spoke of quiet confidence. The only visible evidence of
his recent eight hour flight were the bags under his eyes. Right
now his eyes were searching the room, stopping when they came to
rest on a familiar face.
"Angel. What can you tell me about Wolfram and Hart?"
Angel and Cordelia looked at each other. Cordelia was the first to
turn back to Xander and speak.
"Xander, are *you* a warrior for the Powers That Be?"
Xander responded by pulling out his intelligence credentials and
tossing them onto the desk in front of her.
"In a manner of speaking."
*****
The plot thickens.
--Randy
Author: Randall Stone
Disclaimer: All characters are belong to someone else.
Summary: Meet Xander Harris. His new incredible enemies. His new
incredible adventures. The same incredible woman.
Notes:
Spoilers: S1-3
This follows _The Hellmouth is Not Enough_, so you should read
that story first.
Category: B/X
Rating: PG-ish- nothing worse than what's on the show.
Feedback: Yes please.
*****
The two fighters circled each other, probing for an opening. After
numerous feints, there was a flurry of activity as the two engaged
each other at close range. The fight was over quickly, as the loser
conceded the battle and swam off to greener pastures.
The two men in the room turned their attention from the fish tank
to each other. Both men carried themselves quietly, but in a manner
that spoke of power hidden beneath the surface. It was the man
behind the desk who spoke first.
"Siamese Fighting Fish. Fascinating creatures. Brave, but on the
whole, stupid. Yes, they're stupid... except for the occasional one
such as we have here, who waits. Waits until the survivor is so
exhausted that he cannot defend himself. And then, like SPECTRE, he
strikes."
"The parallel is amusing."
"We did not arrange for you to come over from Wolfram and Hart just
for amusement, Number Three."
Holland Manners nodded once in acknowledgment. He had only left
Wolfram and Hart after long contemplation of his alternatives. Not
that he believed in any silly notions like company loyalty- Holland
knew that the only thing that matters in this world is power. And
should Wolfram and Hart's plans come to fruition, he knew that the
only power that he would wield would be as some demon's lackey.
And Holland didn't plan on being anybody's lackey. He would rather
be a big fish in a smaller pond. It was this simple calculation
that had led him to switch his loyalties. Of course, Wolfram and
Hart was not yet aware of his change of heart.
"You have considered the plan?"
The question brought Holland's mind back to the present.
"I have. It's complex, but I can pull it off. I have somebody
working for me who is tailor made for the role- he's ambitious, but
naive."
"A useful combination."
"Indeed. I was hoping you would provide somebody to be the heavy."
"Of course. Here are files on some people who have proven useful
in the past."
The man behind the desk passed a stack of manila folders across to
Holland. He picked them up and skimmed through them, before one
file in particular caught his eye. He pulled the folder from the
pile and spread it out on the table.
"Here. He would be perfect."
"A fine choice."
"Can we really get him for this job?"
"I wouldn't waste your time if we could not."
---
Spike dug into his Chow Main as he flipped the television over to
the Passions marathon. The food didn't sustain his body, but he
enjoyed the texture. Chinese food always brought back memories of
a happier time for him. A time before Dru- the ringing of the
hotel phone interrupted his thoughts.
"Bloody- nobody has this number. Must be the front desk again.
What could they be calling about?"
Spike was still mumbling to himself when he answered the phone.
"'ello?"
"Hello, William."
"Number one." An involuntary shudder ran through Spike's body.
"I have a job for you."
"No way. I'm through with you lot. I told you that."
"I was afraid you would say that. Do I have to remind you how you
failed to complete your last job?"
"That's because it was James bloody Bond. Nobody ever managed to
kill him. Did they?" Not receiving a response, Spike continued.
"Anyways, I don't see how that-"
"You know how our organization feels about failure, William. I've
been lenient with you due to the extenuating circumstances of the
time, but the fact remains that you owe us a debt. I'm offering you
a chance to repay that debt."
Left unspoken was the other, less pleasant method that SPECTRE used
to collect on debts.
"Fine." Spike sighed. "I could use a spot of violence anyways."
"I'm glad you've decided to be reasonable."
Spike listened as he was given the details of his assignment. He
hung up the phone with a smile.
"If he'd just told me what the job was, he wouldn't have needed that
whole song and dance routine. This will be fun."
Spike hummed happily to himself as he walked over to the figure
lying bound and gagged in the corner of his bedroom.
"Now, the good news is that I'm not going to have you for breakfast
tomorrow, because I'm leaving town tonight. The bad news... well, I
think you can figure that out on your own."
---
TWO WEEKS LATER
"Sir, you wanted to see me right away?"
Xander stood in M's office. He was dressed in his usual suit and
tie. Only his slightly tousled hair and the bags under his eyes gave
any indication of the lateness of the hour.
"Yes, 007, this came to us through our special channels. I'm afraid
that the Slayer, Buffy Summers, has been the target of a hostile
spell and is deathly ill."
"What?! Who did this? I'll-"
"Compose yourself, 007! We all know how important the Slayer's well
being is to the safety of us all. If you can't conduct yourself with
the necessary restraint- and professionalism- I will send 008 in your
place."
Xander took a moment to take a few deep breaths and visibly calm
himself.
"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't. Now, as I was saying, Buffy is in some sort
of a coma. Judging from some of the things that she is saying and
from this symbol which has appeared on her arm-" M laid a photograph
of a glyph on Buffy's arm on his desk. "We believe she has been the
target of a spell from the Scroll of Aberjian."
"The what?"
"It's a scroll containing ancient prophecies and rituals that was
thought to be lost. The spell essentially forces the victim to see
and to some extent experience everything evil that transpires around
the world. A normal human would only survive for a day or so. We
think the Slayer will last a week, maybe two. Fortunately, the same
scroll that contains the curse also contains the cure."
"Who has the scroll?"
"It was thought to be lost for centuries. We now have reason to
believe that the scroll is the possession of Wolfram and Hart, a
Los Angeles law firm."
"An American company? Are the police going to confiscate the scroll
from them?"
"Believe it or not 007, the LAPD is not eager to tangle with a
powerful law firm to retrieve an item of merely occult value." M
sighed. "The American authorities will look the other way on this
one, but will not provide active help."
"So I'll be going it alone, then?"
"Not exactly."
---
"Tell me again why you guys aren't out there kicking some lawyers'
asses?" Cordelia was clearly upset.
"Cordelia, you know how I feel about Buffy. I'd be out there doing
everything that I could to save her life, but the Powers That Be say
that it's not my fight." Angel winced as he sat down behind his
desk. "They were very persuasive."
"Not to mention that Wolfram and Hart has vampire protection up to
here." Doyle commented as he sank down onto the couch in Angel's
office, rubbing his temples. "And the Powers are stepping up the
visions to keep us busy."
"So we're just going to sit here and not do anything while Buffy's
dying in Sunnydale? That seems kind of lame."
"'Delia, there's nothing we can do." Doyle explained. "We just
have to wait for the champion that they've chosen for this task."
"What, is he going to walk right through that door?"
The silence after Cordelia's question was broken by the jingling of
the bell as the door to the office opened. Cordelia automatically
started to recite the agency motto.
"Angel Investigations, we help the- Xander?"
"Cordy."
Xander stood in the doorway to the office. Xander looked a lot
different from how Cordelia remembered him. He was wearing a grey
suit and carrying a black attache case, and carried himself in a
manner that spoke of quiet confidence. The only visible evidence of
his recent eight hour flight were the bags under his eyes. Right
now his eyes were searching the room, stopping when they came to
rest on a familiar face.
"Angel. What can you tell me about Wolfram and Hart?"
Angel and Cordelia looked at each other. Cordelia was the first to
turn back to Xander and speak.
"Xander, are *you* a warrior for the Powers That Be?"
Xander responded by pulling out his intelligence credentials and
tossing them onto the desk in front of her.
"In a manner of speaking."
*****
The plot thickens.
--Randy