Thanks to everyone who wrote saying they liked the first part - just made me write more.

This chapter, along with next two should begin to flesh out one part of Xander' past. I now have much more idea of what happened to at least some of the BtVS cast, although only an idea at present.

It didn't start out being quite so violent, and wasn't originally planned to be so brutal about one of the BtVS's s characters, it just kind of happened. As I'm pretty much making this up as I go along, any plot suggestions will be appreciated, preferably where some of my characters get to live - I have an unfortunate tendency to kill everyone off and then have to re-write. I won't be writing such a long intro in future but just wanted to thank everyone.

*********

Chapter 2 : Entrance

The helicopters sped low over the tops of the huge trees, their twin blades sweeping silently through the air, the usual sounds of a choppers motion reduced to almost undetectability by the stealth facilities built into their design. Within each of the 4 choppers, the eight man teams were almost as silent as their transportation, breaking the silence only in hoarse whispers, any attempt at speaking in normal tones rendered useless by the winds rushing past them.

As they approached their drop off point, the red bulbs attached to the back of the pilots cockpits sprung to life, glowing an almost eerie red in the near darkness, their glows broken up by the protective mesh covering each of them, protection against accidental damage.

'I minute,' went the call from each team leader. 'Radio sets on, goggles live. Weapons are hot gentlemen, we've got a way to go and there could be anything out there.'

As the helicopters continued their progress, the men within them sparked into life as they completed final preparations, the hum of electronics starting up filling the cabins, sending a low pitched resonance through the air.

'Somebody wake up Commander Finn for gods sake,' muttered one of the soldiers in the lead chopper, snorting with suppressed laughter as he did so.

'I'm already awake, don't worry about me,' the still figure replied. As he came out of his meditative state, he felt his senses kicking back into action as his body started to move.

'I don't understand how you can do that sir. We've riding to a mission on twin fuel tanks, 30 feet above the tops of the trees, armed to the teeth and you sleep straight through it!,' the soldier exclaimed again. 'How do you stay so fucking calm? What are you - dead?'

You have no idea Riley thought to himself, smiling inwardly as he did so.

'When you've seen as much as I have kid, you learn to sleep whenever you can. Don't worry - ten more years of this and you'll be doing the same - if you're still alive that is.'

The soldiers were silent for a moment, looking at his serious expression, before one suddenly burst into laughter.

'Yeah, after what your girlfriend did to you last time you got caught with that stripper, Pete, I wouldn't give you another 10 months! If she finds out about the nurse as well, she'll cut your balls off with a spoon,' he called to the now red faced man, to the low chuckles of the rest of the team.

'Enough,' called the captain from his position by the side of the open doorway, looking down at the treetops rushing past him below. 'Twenty seconds. Fasten the lines and prepare to go.'

The click of the harness to the central bar running along the axis of the cabin's floor sounded in unison, the steel clips fastening in place at the captain's command.

'All units prepare to go,' came the voice of the pilot in the lead chopper, speaking now to all 4 helicopters at the same time. 'Rendezvous point in 5,4,3,2,1 - now'

As the four choppers stopped dead in the air in perfect formation, 32 lines flew out of the doorways of the cabins, the metal and fiber lines humming as they rubbed against the edge of the door rims.

The lines flung from the entrances were followed immediately by 16 green and black streaked figures as half the soldiers began their fixed line descent, sliding rapidly down the lines, the hand grips to which they clung whizzing as the lines span through the cogs which formed their central parts.

Even as the men cleared the lower edge of the choppers, the remaining soldiers followed almost immediately, sliding down the lines as quickly as those just seconds earlier. The bodies of the troops slid easily through the thin upper canopy of the treetops, then crashed feet first through the much denser lower branches as they approached the ground.

The first troops hit the ground, their knees bending even as they did so, absorbing the impact of their landings, releasing their handgrips as they leapt of the way of the second wave of troops descending from the sky.

As the second wave landed and also released their hold on the lines, the choppers took off as quickly as they arrived, the soft sweep of their blades and rotors unheard through the dense foliage.

The entire exercise had taken less than 30 seconds from the moment the helicopters had rocked to a halt, to their immediate disappearance, no final message, no further delay, as they disappeared towards the mountains in the distance.

The troops regrouped rapidly, an immediate check for injuries being free of incident. Quickly checking his GPS locator strapped to his right forearm, the captain leading the ground smiled at the accuracy of their drop off.

'Right on target,' he called out. 'Ok, Rodrigues and Sharp, take point, lets lead 'em out. We've got a full nights hike ahead of us and a tight timescale - no delays. Lets go.'

The small clearing in which they had finished up cleared as if by magic, the camouflaged soldiers fading into the brush which filled the gaps between the towering trees above them.

'Remember the instructions! Avoid contact with locals at all costs - we can't risk detection before we reach the facility, and we need to make the second target point before sunup to leave ourselves time to make camp,' continued the captain as they pushed through the greenery.

*********

Several hours later, the forward motion of the troops continued, ceasing only to avoid possible contact with anyone outside of the group. The two point men signaling for pauses whenever a noise was judged sufficiently out of the ordinary as to warrant caution on their parts.

Till this point none of the short stops had discovered anything beyond animals feeding in the darkness, but the lengthy training of the men following meant they showed no signs of impatience at the repeated halts to their tracks, the cautiousness of the two lead men an indication of their professionalism.

The full moon overhead was just enough to provide some light to the soldiers as they marched, but not enough to be able to advance with only those rays to guide them. The dense canvas of the trees towering over their heads blocked out 95% of the light, only small gaps in the foliage allowing any light to the jungle floor.

The lack of natural light did not serve to slow the disciplined advance of the troops as they continued forward however. Their advanced night vision goggles illuminated the scene in front of them almost as clearly as if it had been day, only the green tinge caused by the light amplifying electronics signifying that it was still dark out.

Checking his hand computer again, the captain signaled a halt in their progress at an apparently random point in their trek.

'We've made better time than expected,' he called out. 'An hour till dawn.ok, get the covers set up and establish a perimeter. We're not moving anywhere till tomorrow night, so get going.'

The troops sprung into action as the captain beckoned his communications officer to his side. Reaching into the man's backpack, he pulled out a small rectangular pack, no light reflecting off its dark surface, as he pulled it open.

As the case expanded, a small computer screen could be made out, connected to a miniature satellite dish which quickly popped out to form a small bowl shape. Immediately turning on the equipment, the screen lit up faintly in front of the captain's eyes, its dim glow just enough to make out as the captain removed his goggles. As the request for identification appeared on the screen, the captain pressed his right thumb against the bottom corner of the panel. Calling Riley across to him, he watched as his second in command pressed his left thumb to the small square in the opposite corner.

No further identification required, he waited for several seconds as the connection between the small unit on his knees established the connection with the satellite high above, floating silently through the lower reaches of the night sky.

The unit hummed for a moment as the connection was made and a face appeared on the screen, the eyes of the uniformed man at the other end of the link widening slightly as he acknowledged the presence of the soldier.

'You're early,' he remarked succinctly to the captain, 'Didn't expect to hear from you for another half an hour..'

'Yessir,' replied the captain. 'We encountered less delays than expected enroute to the site sir. We are currently bedding in. The extra time will simply allow us to cover the site better sir.'

'Good work captain,' answered his opposite. 'Keep to the schedule and you should reach the facility by midnight tonight. Sun goes down around 6, leaving you plenty to time to make your approach in darkness.'

'I still feel it would have made more sense to approach in daylight sir. Even with our equipment, the darkness limits our maneuverability..'

'As stated in the briefing captain, we must ensure your approach and contact goes unseen. There would be enough trouble if you were found here, but if the facility is located in the process there will be more than just hell to pay. A secret US military facility in a friendly country's territory? No, the mission goes ahead as planned.'

'Have you heard from the facility yet sir? Do you have any further information regarding the situation there?,' the captain asked quickly to move his superior's attention away from his implied criticism of the mission's planning.

'No captain. There has been no further contact with the facility for 12 hours at this point, the last communication being the emergency pulse signal. You must continue as planned. Take all precautions on site until you determine what has happened. Commander Finn will provide you with further guidance on site.'

'Acknowledged general. We will contact you upon contact with the facility's personnel or sweep of the site. Ceasing transmission now.'

The computer shut itself down on these words, folding itself up without further attention by the captain, its automatic functions swinging into action without delay. As the unit shrank back to its original size, the captain returned it to the communication specialist's backpack, rising to his feet as he did so.

Flicking the switch on his night goggles as he did so, his eyes swept the area, observing the disciplined actions of the surrounding troopers as he did so. The area had been a hive of activity just moments earlier as the soldiers scooped out trenches in the dirt then covered them with the camouflaged canvases they had carried in with them.

I still don't like this mission he thought to himself as he watched his men setting up defensive positions, and that bastard Finn sure as hell isn't telling us anything

As the last of the defensive and camouflage positions was completed, the whole process having taken the men only minutes to perform all the various tasks, he signaled to the group.

'You know the drill, A Team takes first watch, the rest of you get some sleep. We'll be making rapid time tonight and daylight'll only be for 10 hours at this time of year. Teams will switch at 2 ½ hour intervals by the mark, now settle in - there's only 40 minutes before the sun comes up and we need to be under cover before then,' he ordered, his exhausted troops dropping gratefully to the ground, worn out by the long hike through the dense jungle, the humidity of the air having served only to make their passage more difficult.

*********

Twenty minutes later, most of the troops were already asleep, their bodies trained to take advantage of any opportunity to recharge themselves during a mission, leaving only the 8 man team around their perimeter on guard. The jungle around them quieter than normal, the movement of the men having silenced many of the nocturnal inhabitants.

The men within the perimeter slept shallowly, their training outweighing any feeling of safety provided by their comrades around them.

Even as they slept, Riley Finn was still awake, the troops surrounding his position in the middle of the troops not making him feel any more secure, thoughts running through his head.

What the hell could have happened there? he thought to himself. It should have been totally secure for gods sake. Hell, I helped set up half the defenses myself, and we strengthened them even further after what happened with that bitch and Xan.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a wet thud coming from the edge of the encampment. He could almost feel his ears pricking up as he lifted his head, his body tensing as he did so, striving to make out any sounds from the men in the area around him.

Pulling on his goggles, he looked around, trying to make out any sign of movement in the still darkness surrounding them.

A second wet thud sounded and then, before he could locate the source of the noise or react in any way, the early morning darkness suddenly exploded.

Shots rang out from two of the perimeter guards, bullets rattling from their weapons, only the silencers fixed to the ends of the barrels preventing the air being filled with the sounds of typical gunfire.

The bullets spat out in a twisting circle, their source still hidden by the camouflage of the outer guard units, designed to prevent their detection in the event of an attack. As the rest of the troops rolled out of their sleeping holes, grasping their weapons as they did so, the bullets from the two continued to fire.

The direction of the gunfire prevented even these elite troops from having time to react. As the bodies of the guards were spun around, their still firing weapons continued in action, even as they were turned to face their fellow troopers. The rain of bullets span across the group, still in the process of reacting to the sudden events.

As the bullets impacted on the bodies of the soldiers, they began to fall, the Teflon tipped special forces ammunition suddenly becoming a liability to the small army as they pierced the lightweight Kevlar armor covering their bodies.

In the space of seconds before the gunfire abruptly ceased, there was sufficient time to cause a swathe of damage through the middle of the group, several of the men falling immediately, dead in an instant, other dropping to the floor, blood spurting from smaller wounds. Most of the rest of the men dived for cover, their eyes straining to make out the cause of the sudden disaster, while a handful sprinted towards the positions of the soldiers from whom the shots had come.

As they reached the positions, they pulled up short, their weapons sweeping out as they took in the site lying in front of them. The bodies of the two formerly firing soldiers were pinned against the trees against which they had been sheltering, held up by their own black-coated knives. Struck dumb, the advancing soldiers could only look on in shock at the sight of their friends, the blood gushing from the entrance wounds of the blades, driven inches deep into the bark.

It wasn't the sight of their stabbed comrades-in-arms that pulled them up short. They were all professionals, had all seen years of service in special forces, had seen friends and strangers alike blown apart, shot and killed in multiple methods of death, but what lay in front of them shocked even their experienced eyes.

The two dead troopers had been completely gutted, their insides not just ripped open, but their internal organs torn out completely, and splattered for yards around, only the lungs of the men still inside.

'That's a fucking bite mark,' whispered one.

'What do you mean, that's a fucking bite mark? What the hell are you talking about?,' snapped another in reply.

Even as the rest of the group scanned the area, taking cover behind the nearby trees, the first man continued, 'Look at the lungs - those are fucking bite marks mate!! I've got half a dozen rotweilers, and I know when I see fucking bite maRKS!'

His voice rose at the end of the sentence, the impact of what he was seeing hitting home.

'What the hell did this to them?,' called another, 'And where the fuck did they gooouuurghhh..!!!'

The voice of the man was cut short in a horrifying gurgle as 4 hairy figures tore through the small group, racing between them on all fours, claws slashing outwards at random as they came, their fangs dripping with mucous and saliva.

The claws ripped through 4 of the men in an instant, each of the beasts tearing out the throats of a soldier as they leapt at them. Even as the remaining troops reacted instinctively, pulling on the triggers of their weapons, unleashing a hail of bullets at the creatures around them, the long-haired creatures continued their run.

Racing through the rest of the group, moving too fast for the turning figures bullets to make contact, they seized the last two figures, leaping up and gripping the men, two jaws gripping each. Their forward motion continued, dragging the men into the darkness with them, the screams of the soldiers echoing through the air as they disappeared from view, beyond even the capabilities of the advanced goggles they were all wearing.

Just as suddenly as it had all started, the action ceased, only the screams of the taken two filling the air until seconds later the cries ceased with a terrifying snap of bones as their necks were ripped apart.

*********

The dumbfounded troupe, still reacting to what had happened, finally managed to regroup. Fanning out in a tightly packed circle, their weapons sweeping up and down, around and around, they created a full 360 degree area of cover, unaware that the danger had already passed.

Minutes later, the sun rose, penetrating the thin canopy in the area above them, lighting the scene fully in what seemed like an instant. The amount of light making it through seemed surprising given the depth of cover which had blotted out the moonlight during the previous night's hike, but the relief of the shocked soldiers was evident as they removed their night goggles to take in the scene around them.

'Sound off,' called the captain, trying to quantify the damage to his team, his mind reeling from the speed of what had happened.

As the men finished calling off their names and call-signs, the captain struggled to maintain his composure, as he realized that half the team had been killed in the space of what could have only been a handful of minutes if not seconds, without a single body of their attackers to show for it.

Four of the sentries had been taken out at the start, with the resulting spray of bullets killing another 6 of their own men, still rising from sleep. Four more had been massacred while checking the sentries, their throats torn out in an instant. Then the final two, perhaps the most shocking of the lot, taken from them by whatever had attacked them, pulled into the jungle in seconds.

'Captain, are we going to go after them? We can't just leave them out there.'

'No - they're already dead. We have to look after ourselves,' Riley Finn interrupted the questioning words of the soldier, his voice cutting across any response that the captain in charge might have made. 'Can we call out?'

The body of the communications specialist lay sprawled on the ground before them, the impact of the bullets that had riddled his back evident immediately. The shattered remnants of the satellite gear scattered across his body, thrown out of his pack by the force of the bullets impacts.

'What about the backup unit? That can't have been the only one?,' he continued, his eyes sweeping across the rest of the group.

'No,' replied the captain, 'But you're standing on what's left of the backup. It got trampled on when we tried to take cover - it's trashed as well. We have no way of calling out and letting them know what happened here. Now why don't YOU try and tell me what the FUCK just happened? What killed my men? What were those things? - and don't try and tell me it was a fucking puma or some other shit like that, 'cause I know damn well those things weren't anything from the fuckin' nature channel!!'

The captain's voice rose in volume as he finished his speech, his profanity increasing as his control threatened to fracture.

Riley was silent for a moment, looking around at the hostile stares of the men surrounding them, the bodies still tense and alert as they tried to watch both the area around them and their two superiors facing off in the center of the circle created by their bodies.

'I don't know what those things were,' he replied quietly, 'But!,' he interjected quickly as the captain and a handful of the men showed clear signs of disbelief, 'It might be connected with the place we're heading too.'

'What the hell do you mean "connected"?,' exclaimed the captain, 'You need to start telling us more about where the hell we're going and what the hell this mission is all about! This is no time for more of your 'need to know' secrecy bullshit. It can't wait until we get there - half my men are already dead and we've still got hours of travel to go before we have any chance of recovery. If those things are out there while we travel, none of us might make it - now start FUCKING TALKING!!!!.'

Spit flecked onto Riley's face as the captain thrust his face inches from his nose, his eyes wide open as screamed the last few words.

Looking around once more at the faces around him, seeing them turn angry as he watched, their rage and fear finding a focus at the man their captain was shouting at. The only member of the group not part of the regular team, the only man who seemed to have any idea what they might be facing, Riley was an obvious target for their rising emotions.

'OK,' Riley finally spoke out, not seeing any alternative to giving at least some kind of explanation if he wanted to keep his head.

Hell, I might need them before the day's over

'The facility we are heading to is a top secret US military facility, for obvious reasons, since it's in Mexican territory without their knowledge. The facility has various experiments underway at any one point in time, and no, I will not tell you what most of those are, the operation is classified well beyond your level of clearance, half of them beyond mine. A number of those experiments involve different creatures, none of which you would recognize, the purpose of which differ depending on the nature of the experiments.'

'And those creatures,' a soldier interrupted, 'are those creatures from this place? Are they??'

'I can't say for sure,' Riley replied, 'I've never seen them before, not even at this place, but since I don't recognize them from anywhere else, I'd have to assume that they came from there. How they got here, and what they are, I can't say. What I can say is that we should get to the facility as quickly as possible. I don't think they'll attack us in daylight, with the element of surprise gone and their vision compromised, but I think we should get going immediately. The faster we reach the site, the faster we can call for help. Plus the facility has secure defenses that we should be able to use to fend off any such assault tonight.'

'What about the bodies?,' a soldier spoke up. 'We can't just leave them here for those things!'

'We have to,' spoke up the captain. 'Commander' - he spat out the title as he spoke - 'Finn is right, we should get going right now. Collect all the gear that might be useful and lets go. We know the GPS co-ordinates of this site, we can come back for the bodies later, but for now lets move out !!'

The surviving members of the group scrambled to follow their captain's orders, collecting spare ammunition and weapons as they went till they were each carrying two men's worth of weaponry. Jettisoning anything they deemed unnecessary, which by now meant anything that couldn't kill or help kill, they started to move out, following the lead of Riley Finn as he strode rapidly away from the scene.

They left behind them a scene of carnage, bodies piled together, bullet wounds, slashed throats, and eviscerated stomachs still oozing blood even in death. The once green foliage now coated in places in thick, dark blood, the smell already drawing the flies and other insects which always flocked to death; small carnivores already preparing to follow, their fear of the creatures which had just passed through now outweighed by the scent of blood, drawing them in, their base animal instincts overwhelming their caution.

Even as the last of the soldiers passed well out of earshot, the hairy creatures returned, sending the smaller mammals fleeing from the scene as they advanced on the bodies. The group, now 7 strong, snarled and tore at the bodies, shredding them with their jagged teeth, tearing at the flesh, ripping organs from the soft innards of the torsos and gulping them down whole.

Minutes later, their stomachs engorged with their newly eaten meal, the troop slept nearby. Their bodies completely relaxed as they basked in the sun, making no move to follow the living soldiers, their energies expended for the time being. They could always track them later in the day.

*********

If the marching group had known what was happening behind them, they might have broken completely, but fortunately for them they remained unaware of the meal being made of their fallen colleagues, pressing onwards as fast as they could.

The jungle air fell heavily on them, the humidity pressing down like lead weights on their shoulders, every stride taking more and more out of the troops than the one before. As they eased through the jungle they were forced to continually sweep the scene with their weapons, their nerves jangling.

At the slightest unexpected sound, one of the soldiers would open fire, the attempts by the captain to maintain order and silence overwhelmed by the sheer level of tension and stress filling the group. He himself was not immune to this - a small creature running across his path was blown into tiny pieces before he even realized he had opened fire.

Only Finn appeared unaffected by the tension, his figure alert but not out of control.

If they had seen what I've seen, perhaps they wouldn't act like new recruits he thought to himself.

If they'd worked with the Initiative maybe they'd realize that there are many worse things in the world than what they encountered today - last night - whatever.

Striding along, his two machine guns slung low at his hips, he continued his chain of thought.

Fucking Maggie Walsh he swore suddenly to himself. If she hadn't got ahead of herself, the project could have continued there indefinitely - the hellmouth drew enough demons to make collection easy, but NOOOO, she had to build a fucking hybrid-machine thing and turn the fucking Scooby gang, Slayerettes or whatever they called themselves against them - against ME!!

His teeth clenched even as he thought about it, his anger increasing, causing him to bunch his fists together as he crashed through the undergrowth, his mind turning in on itself as he continued onwards, his memories fueling his own rage as he went.

And when I helped them take down A.D.A.M., did they appreciate me? NO - they treated me just as before, as just another member of their little group. Not a single one understood that I should have been in charge. I had the experience, the military knowledge, hell, I had the BRAINS to be in charge of the group. You think Giles should have stayed in charge? Hell, they ignored him from the beginning - the man couldn't enforce nap time at a kindergarten school. no wait.. bad example - those little bastards never do as they're told. That's it - he couldn't take charge of a raffle sale, no wait, that's another...what the hell am I thinking about - Fuck Giles and his books, he was still better than Buffy. Perfect, saintly little Buffy, and her fake-blonde hair - no surprises to him there when he finally got her in the sack, even if it was with Faith's mind in charge. She thought she was so goddamn special, with her slayer strength and everything, doing whatever she wanted, ignoring procedures, rules, everything. just riding over his objections and doing what she wanted anyway, ignoring him, treating him like he was less than her. And that fucking vampire, Angel, she just couldn't let go of him could she, the bitch, flaunting him in front of me like that..

Still, even with all that she was better than those other two little pieces of shit, especially him!

The name ran through his brain, round and round and round, Xander, Xander, Xander, Xander. till he almost banged his own fists against the sides of his head to break the circle of thought.

Him and his friends always treated me like I wasn't good enough to join their stupid little group. That fucking lesbian always pretended that she liked me, claiming she was helping me get Buffy to go with me, that stupid fake shyness tricked me !! When it came down to a choice she took his word over mine in an instant, and then she had the nerve to sway Buffy as well !! and of, where her royal blondness goes, that stupid librarian just follows along like he doesn't have a mind of his own..typical fucking Brit, too stupid to wise up to how pathetic their country is now, just another little state with delusions of grandeur, caught in the past..mind wandering again, focus damnit !!

Riley's expression appeared wild as he came to the final name in his thoughts, the tendons in his neck stretching as he fought to bank down his rage at the memories.

Fucking Xander. Fucking Xander. FUCKING XANDER !!!!! He was responsible for it. He was responsible for it all.. If it hadn't been for him, I'd be on my way to being a fucking general by now, that bastard, not stuck out here in the middle of the jungle, having to force my way to a place I'd thought I'd finally gotten past..but noooooo, as soon as something goes wrong there, they just call me back up, like it was my fault the last time and so I should have to fix whatever it is has gone wrong this time !! Well it wasn't my fucking fault what happened last time, no matter what they said. It was all that bastard's fault, him and that bitch. Well at least they suffered before it all went to shit, at least she d...

His chain of random angry thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt as the group suddenly appeared in a small clearing, the facility straight in front of them.

What the hell? he thought We're here already? Shit, must have tuned out for a while there - those bastards fucking up my concentration again goddammit!! Gotta focus, gotta stay alert now

*********

The 16 man team had reached the edge of the jungle, the join between its edge and the clearing where the building in front of them lay, ragged, designed not to draw immediate attention from any satellite photography from above, the camouflaged netting covering the entire roof surface in multiple shades of green and black, designed to appear like tree canopy from above.

From below though, it looked exactly what it was - a big sheet stretched over a low level building, clearly not the whole of the facility unless they were dealing with very small creatures and experiments. And judging from the size of the beasts they had already encountered, that didn't seem likely.

The sight of the building stopped Riley and the rest of the troops short. The main doors appeared to have been blown open with some kind of explosives, the outer windows shattered, their iron bars covering the front of them twisted out of shape.

Wisps of smoke escaped from one of the two windows facing towards them, seeping out from between the broken shards of glass still fixed to the frame.

Even as he studied the scene, Riley realized that something was wrong.

The doors.

They were blown inward.

And that meant..

that whatever had blown them open might still be out here !!

Riley spun around in a circle, trying to make out anything out of the ordinary in the jungle scenery around and behind him or near the building in front of him. He couldn't see anything, nothing but clumps of green and brown bark, and then..

One of the green clumps shifted, a face rising from its position against the ground, its scarred visage apparent beneath the green paint covering it from neck to hairline.

Oh fuck

That was the single thought that ran through Riley's head as the figure in the distance rose up slightly. He didn't consider a warning to the troops standing on either side of him, didn't point out the figure facing them, but just reacted on instinct.

Riley dived to the ground, his legs bending beneath him as he dropped. He could feel his body falling in the air, could see the walls of the building passing in front of him, everything happening in slow motion. Time seemed slowed down for an instant, the remaining soldiers not reacting, not having the time to react to what he had just done.

And then, just as time had slowed to Riley, it increased in speed to the rest of the group.

A bullet passed through the space occupied milliseconds ago by Riley, cutting through the area that had been occupied by his beating heart, and as it missed its target, its pinpoint accuracy ruined by Riley's reflexive action, it continued on its path.

Unfortunately for Sergeant Steve Wilkinson, that trajectory happened to coincide with his own beating heart, as he happened to be the soldier standing to the right of Commander Finn when the bullet passed through the empty space.

At least it was his beating heart, until his chest was torn out by the high caliber round that rocketed through the air, piercing his Kevlar armor as if he hadn't bothered to pull it on the day before; its high tech, incredibly expensive, state of the art fabric penetrated by the bullet which continued through to the other side of his chest and out of the other side, blowing a huge exit wound out of his right side and back, in sharp contrast to the much smaller entrance wound. His heart was simply vaporized by the power of the bullet, any other organs that got in the way destroyed as the cartridge continued its path through and out of his body.

He died immediately, his body shutting down all functions in an instant, faster than the message from his nerves could reach his brain to tell himself that he had been shot.

The rest of the squad didn't react immediately. The silenced shot not being loud enough to alert them at once, the impact of arriving at the facility after hours of hard slog through the jungle depths slowing down their trained reflexes, their adrenalin already drained from the events of the day, preventing any faster response at the sight of the diving Finn and slain Wilkinson.

For the man standing at Sergeant Wilkinson's side, none of this made the slightest bit of difference. The power of the bullet rendered any effects of shock or adrenalin-fatigue meaningless, as it blasted through the sergeant's body and continued in flight, its trajectory not altered by a millimeter on its path as it continued its propulsion.

The bullet, now coated in a slick covering of blood from the body through which it had just passed, span as it flew the short distance between the two soldiers. The speed and spin as it traveled through the air caused the blood in which it had just been coated to evaporate, the laws of physics taking effect as it went.

The squad was just about to react, still in the process of absorbing the visual information that had passed in front of their eyes when the bullet claimed its second victim. Striking the slightly stooping soldier just above his right eye, the bullet passed through and out of the other side of his head in less than the blink of an eye, the brain matter through which it passed turning into so much gunk in the process. Like Sergeant Wilkinson, he was dead without even realizing it, passing on to whatever afterlife might be facing him.

As the two now dead soldiers crumpled to the ground, the remaining team finally reacted, diving for the ground, taking cover in the trees from which they had just come, desperately trying to move their bodies away from the line of fire.

Even as they did so, Riley Finn had sprinted the short distance to the compound, diving in through the shattered hole in the doors, a second bullet missing his diving figures by millimeters.

The rest of the squad were not so fortunate.

Their muscles reacting to training, faster than mere instinct, they found cover, returning fire in the direction from which the initial shots had come from, riddling the green mound with their ammunition, shredding the green covered camouflage that had shielded the man from view as they had approached.

Their actions did not save them.

Even as the second shot had been fired, the man had moved, rolling his body away from his initial firing spot, over and over until he reached the cover of an upturned trunk, yards away from where he started.

Sighting through a small hole in the wood, he sighted on a crouching figure, and in one smooth motion, sent another cylinder of death spinning in the man's direction. Without pausing, without hesitating; without waiting to see the results of his shots, knowing before they made contact what the result of each pull of his trigger would be, he swung the long barreled snipers rifle across the scene in front of him.

Sighting without effort, he pulled the trigger again and again, again and again. Six shots rang out in the space of a few seconds, and with each shot, a man stopped moving, his muscle activities ended, no more thoughts capable of running through his heads If they hadn't made peace with their families or their gods, it was now too late.

In the blink of an eye, the 16 men remaining from the earlier catastrophe was reduced to 8, one of whom was already inside the building, the one man that he actually cared about killing, the man who had...

**********

The last seven men still alive outside of the compound came to the same realization at exactly the same time, not hard under the rather extreme circumstances facing them. And that realization was -

If I stay out here I'm a dead man. Got to get inside the building

The survivors leapt to their feet and sprinted to the entrance in unison, their feet crashing with each step, hearts pounding, blood rushing through their bodies, carrying oxygen to exhausted limbs, one final adrenalin shot to the system in a last ditch effort to maintain their survival.

For four of the seven, that last adrenalin boost might as well not have occurred. Even as they pounded towards the doorway, the bullets were on their way, one targeted at each figure, aiming directly at their spines.

For Mark Saunders time appeared to have slowed, even as it had for Riley Finn just moments before. As he raced to the entrance, he felt rather than saw a bullet impact on a friend just a foot in front of him, felt another strike the body to his side and then he went down himself, crashing to the ground.

For the man sprinting in front of him, that was the worse thing that could have happened. The bullet that would have deflected in its path slightly upon hitting Mark's collarbone, that would then have just missed his own carotid artery, was instead sent on its way without interruption. It tore his neck open, ripping the artery apart and condemning him to his death, fortunately a quick death, his life's blood pouring out of his body in seconds. His mind shut down upon realization at what had happened and for the last moments of his young life, the soldier felt no pain, no suffering, a blessing compared to what his comrades had suffered earlier in the day.

Mark on the other hand was definitely feeling pain. Not the pain of a bullet blasting his body open, but the pain of a broken wrist, shattered with the impact of his body against the ground at full speed. The rock on which he had tripped was sent flying through the air as he scrambled back to his feet in a mad rush to make it through the hole in front of him.

Even as he made it through, feeling his arms torn by the ragged edges of the damaged doors, he saw a final soldier go down beside him, another body torn apart by those lethal spinning tubes which brought nothing put pain and death. Guns don't kill people, people kill people? Tell that to the weapon from which the death bringers had come, tell that to the bodies of those left lying in the dirt.

The three men still alive from the race to the doorway pushed deeper into the small corridor in front of them, driving Finn back in the process, their only thought being to get out of the sights of that lethal rifle somewhere behind them in the jungle.

Four left from the thirty two that had started the mission. Twenty eight bodies left on the path from the drop-off point to the doorway of their target facility, torn apart by monsters, their own bullets and then, when they thought they had reached safety, by a lethal killer armed with a hi- tech rifle.

The following thought flashed through the mind of one of those still in one piece, Bates -

Can this day get any worse? Please god let me live? I just want to see my daughter one more time

Images of a tiny blond angel flashed through his mind. Her squalling face moments after having been born, her first birthday, ignoring the gifts from him and his family in favor of rolling around in the wrapping paper the presents came in, the money spent on them wasted. Her third birthday, the first with friends, laughing at the clown his wife had hired for the occasion, her fifth birthday spent with just the three of them at Disneyland in Florida, his arms around his little girl, his lips pressed to his beautiful wife's. Her 6th birthday is just next week, our 7th anniversary the week after that, we're going on a second honeymoon...

Bates' chain of thoughts ended, the images of a wife and child he would never see again the last that passed through his mind. As the grenade launcher sent a small projectile sailing through the hole in the entrance, his mind and body froze, the final picture of holding his wife and baby in his arms, watching the sun go down.

The detonation filled the space behind the entrance, the sounds of the explosion in the confined area blowing his eardrums. Even before the shockwave had time to reach him, Bates was dead, the metal fragments of the grenade ripping through his upper body and head, shredding it to pulp, not a recognizable feature left as the corpse was flung backwards by the shockwaves.

And then there were three...

*********

Xander rose from his crouched position by the side of a broken tree, the long snipers rifle carefully re-packed in its carrying case and propped out of sight. The short barreled grenade launcher dangling from his right hand, smoke whisping from the barrel as he held it loosely, ejecting the cartridge even as he moved, sending it spinning out with a flick of his wrist.

The impact of its fall to the mossy floor at his feet was drowned by the explosion generated from the grenade launched only moments before, the shockwave blowing back down from the corridor, sending the already damaged doors tumbling off their hinges, crashing to the ground.

He stood there for a moment, out of sight of the men still alive inside, the shock of seeing Riley Finn's face among the men at the site ratcheting up his tension levels.

Riley Finn, I can't believe it.. Nine years since I've been here, and as soon as I find it, they send him back in to investigate. This couldn't have turned out better if I'd set it up like this myself..

Moving smoothly across the jungle floor, he shifted to a position with a view through the doors, catching sight of the men inside scrambling through a doorway at the end of the hallway.

If they think they can escape that easily, they've got another surprise coming to them he thought darkly to himself, as he approached the entrance, senses extended outwards, aware of the animals in the jungle around him stirring back to life from their frozen stances, as the sounds of the action died away.

As he stepped through the shattered doors, he swept the scene with his eyes, taking in the four bodies lying in front of him, limbs spread wide in their death poses.

Only three when I came in before. Must have caught another of the support team with that grenade before they made it through to the end of the hall. Good thing I only used a low-explosive round that time, wouldn't want to block my way before I finish clearing the place..

As he walked down the narrow hall, his mind began to flash back, just as it had when he blew the doors open the last time, just hours before - the memories of the first time he entered this place burned into his mind even after all this time..

*********
.his eyes span frantically in their sockets, the pupils dilated till they filled the visible portion of the eyeball, their normally soft brown shade now darkened in fear. The bruising around his left eye kept it almost completely closed, turning green and blue as the tissue reacted to the damage inflicted upon it.

He was strapped tightly to a sliding bench, some kind of examination table, all metal, smooth the touch. He could feel the cold chill of the metal against his bare flesh, as he lay there immobilized, the multiple white straps lashing him in place, preventing him from moving even his hands, the wrists and finger tied down also with some kind of strong tape

The drugs he had been repeatedly injected with had begun to wear off a couple of hours before, enough still in his system to slow his reflexes down, to prevent his eyes focusing properly, but no longer enough to dull the pain coming from his dislocated shoulder. The joint jutted out from the socket in which it should have been fixed, the men and women around him making no effort to assist him, to treat his injuries.

As he felt the table rolling along the ground, wheels rattling, he could see the lights flashing overhead, blurring together as he tried to focus without success. He could almost make out the sounds of another trolley being wheeled alongside, but the drugs made it difficult to tell whether the sounds were real or just a trick of his befuddled senses.

He knew he should be worrying about someone, someone close to him, but he couldn't seem to remember who it was. Images of a peaceful afternoon in a park seemed to float up behind his eyelids whenever he blinked, the faces of those with him blurred, like an out of focus film.

'That's it,' he heard a voice bark out from the foot of the trolley, feeling the jolt as the wheels passed over a bump on the floor, his transportation slamming to a halt.

Another trolley slid in place beside his and he could hear the figure beside him mumbling, no discernable words, just fragments of sounds in a soft female tone.

He tried to turn his head, electrical impulses firing in his neck. But even as he shifted his weight slightly, moving in slow motion, the twisting motion of his neck was halted by yet another strap across his forehead, preventing any movement greater than a slight tilt of an inch or so.

From the corner of his good right eye, he could just make out the edges of the body to his side, his vision blurring as he tried to focus. A glimpse of pale skin, a petite body, a wisp of hair, couldn't seem to make out the colour...

Even as his eyes squinted, trying to make out more detail, he felt himself slipping away, fatigue and the after-effects of the drugs causing his body to start the process of recovery by sending him to sleep. As he lost any focus, the light above his head splintered and spun as the elevator started its descent..
*********

Riley and the remaining pair of soldiers scrambled down the stairway through which they had stumbled into, desperately making their way down the cold metal stairs, their boots clattering as they went, clutching their weapons in their. They made no effort to take a stand against their attacker, concentrating on getting below as quickly as possible

'Who is he?,' private Harrison asked breathlessly, as his panic ridden body forced its way down the stairwell, 'Who the hell is he?'

'Shut up,' snapped Riley, even as he ran, 'We have to get to level 3. The main barracks are there, and so is the first point of defense. There should be a security detail of 6 men there, and the only way down to the lower levels is by getting through there.'

'Do you really think they're still there?' the second trooper, Saunders, responded. 'For gods sake, you've seen the damage to the place, what that guy did.what if he's not alone? what if they've already taken the facility? We could be running into a trap!'

'Oh he's alone,' replied Riley, 'Xander wouldn't come here with anyone else, he's on a mission.'

'Xander?,' Harrison immediately responded, his breathing ragged as he ran, his injured ribs sending shooting pains across his chest with each step. 'You know how it is?'

'Oh yes..that's Xander Harris out there, a former guest of this facility. Guess he isn't too happy about what happened to him here. Too bad, he always did whine too much!'

'Sure as hell doesn't look like he's whining now!,' Saunders snapped out as they reached the next level down, the rectangular sign secured next to the door indicating the level to which they had descended.

LEVEL 3 : RETINAL SCAN REQUIRED TO ACCESS

The small screen beside the sign, familiar to all as a retinal scanning unit, lay dormant. Its security features, designed to prevent unauthorized persons from going any further was state of the art. No buttons to press, no codes to input, merely a curved shape flat against the wall.

All of this expensive technology was rendered pointless by the fact that the door it was supposed to secure was hanging off one hinge, the solid steel frame twisted and mangled, burn marks scarring its surface.

'Shit,' muttered Riley, 'He's already been here. We have to keep moving, if we can't secure this level we'll keep going down. The containment facilities are on the next two levels so we might stand a chance of holding him out there, especially if anyone else is still down there.'

They raced through the security room, the strong lighting filling the air with an almost harsh white light. Bullet holes were evident as they passed through, blood splatters streaking across the walls. The still bodies of the security detail could be made out only from the corners of their eyes as they ran through, not looking left or right as they continued, not wanting to witness what they all knew was there. One extended leg protruded from behind a green painted desk, causing the tiring Harrison to stumble to his knees as his feet skidded out from beneath him, the thin trickle of blood running alongside the leg just slippery enough to prevent the grips on his boots from holding him upright.

He slid forward a couple of paces, coming to a halt just inches from the lifeless face of a female guard, her vacant eyes staring motionless straight ahead. Saunders pulled him to his feet without stopping, dragging him onwards through the door that Riley had just slammed open, the commander not even looking back to see if they were following.

As the trio entered a second stairwell, and began to make their way down, the pain-stricken Harrison managed to gasp out the words running through his head.

'Why was he outside? If he's already been down here and killed everyone, why was he waiting for us outside? Why wasn't he waiting for us down here or already gone?'

'He was waiting outside because he knew we were coming. Communication only went down about 17 or 18 hours ago from what I was informed, and he knew they would send in a team to investigate within hours. He can't have had to time to finish exploring the facility in that time - not if he had to fight his way through. That's why I think there might be some left alive down here, not because he spared them but just because he hasn't found them yet. By waiting outside he could take most of us out even before we got inside the building.'

Looks like you've developed some brains there Harris. Still haven't realized that you can't compete against me though have you?

As they reached the next level, Riley started forward through the double doors, striding onwards even as the two accompanying soldiers' breath hitched at the sight in front of them

'Oh my god.....'

*********

As Xander reached the end of the hallway, he paused for a moment, studying the ruined elevator car, his mind still in the past, lost in memories.
...the elevator had dropped down and down, but in his semi-conscious state Xander was no longer aware, his sense of his surroundings almost completely overridden by a combination of pain, fatigue and the drugs. Without another sound he passed out, head lolling back against their restraints. At almost the same instant, the soft moans of the woman alongside him ended as she too passed out...

The images continued to flash before Xander's eyes

...with a jolt he was awake, no longer strapped down to a table, now resting on a white plastic chair, the sensation of the needle leaving his arm felt acutely as the counter-acting and stimulating drugs took almost immediate effect. He heard the footsteps of whoever had made the injection tapping away behind until, with a faint sound of a door closing, they ceased.

He lifted his head from his chest, his eyes squinting under the bright lights as they adjusted to the scene around him. A small room, perfectly white, covered in tiles on all surfaces, reflecting the white light that seemed to be present without any visible source. In front of him, filling one entire side of the room was a glass wall, darkness beyond it, the tinted window preventing him from seeing what lay beyond. His slightly befuddled mind took a few seconds to process what he was seeing and then, with a jolt, memories of another such place kicked in.

Oh shit! This place looks just like the cells from the Initiative, the ones that were used to hold the demons. But the Initiative was shut down after what happened - we saw it close down! And Riley said...Riley said..that there was no other sites...and we trusted him...

Suddenly the tinted glass became transparent, allowing him to see through to the figures standing just beyond the glass, motionless as they studied him. As his eyes passed across the small white clad group before him, he almost groaned out loud.

Scientists, more scientists, a soldier, more scientists, another soldier, more scientists. no wait! Back up..that soldier...

'Riley !!!!,' he screamed, startling all except the dirty-blonde haired soldier with his sudden action, 'You did this to me! Where am I? What the hell am I doing here?'

'Xander Harris, woken up at last have we?,' smirked Riley Finn, observing the young man in front of him. 'Where are you? - well I would have thought that was fairly obvious, even to you, but then again; you never were the sharpest pencil in the box were you? As for what you're doing here? Weeeeellllll, we decided that no-one really investigated the effect of those possessions on you did they? Figured since I was hanging round you guys all this time, I might as well be the one that found out; no-one else seemed to be interested.'

'You brought me here to find out about my possessions? What the hell is the point of that? I just have a handful of memories, the occasional reflex and instinct. I don't see why the Initiative should care about that.'

'Well then, I guess you were wrong as usual, and, oh, this isn't the Initiative, it's the Logan Project. Welcome to your new home Xander, make yourself comfortable,' Riley finished his little speech with a flick of his fingers. As he did so, the glass changed again, darkening back to its original color till Riley's figure disappeared behind it, the last he saw of him for a while..
*********

The sight of the rows of containment cells caused Harrison and Saunders to catch their breaths, the glass walls stretching out on either side of the long corridor in front of them, the white panels that covered the floors and ceiling appearing to provide the light that illuminated all around them.

As they passed the glass walls, the two younger troopers couldn't help looking inside as they passed, trying to make out what was inside them. All they could see were huddled figures in those cells that were occupied, many of the cells bare and empty.

'Don't bother,' Finn called to them, 'Whatever was in them before is dead. See the red light flashing over each cell? That shows the nerve gas was released in each cell. At least someone down there showed half a brain when all this went down. Don't worry - the gas only lasts for a few minutes outside a nervous system - can't hurt us now. Anyway, this level only holds the less dangerous specimens, we need to reach the lower levels before you'll see anything too extreme.'

'How do you know all this sir?,' questioned Harrison as they strode forward.

'I used to work here,' he replied. 'I started in the project before this one, and just transferred across when it went to shit. Hell, I helped design half the security here.'

Latching on to anything that could distract him from what was happening, Saunders spoke questioningly, 'Went to shit? You mean this has happened before? Was it this guy, what did you call him? Xander Harris?'

'Xander? No, Xander didn't trash the last site, a combination of an idiot in charge started it off, and then his "friends" did the rest. At the time, Xander couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag, even a wet one. The entire site was raised when it all went down and the research transferred here.'

'And these "friends"? Does this mean we have to look out for something worse than him?'

Riley Finn nearly burst out laughing at this, a warm feeling spreading across his body, tingles of pleasure running through his fingers as he considered this for a moment.

'Look out for them? No, we don't need to look out for them here. The risk they might have posed to the project ended some time ago. You could say they are...no longer a factor.'

The expression on his face as he spoke was enough to end the questioning of the two soldiers. The small twisted smile on his face was enough to give pause, but the slightly crazed tint in his eyes sent a small shiver down their spines. The commander's complete control that had been evident from the start of the mission, that had been the one factor preventing them from losing their own control completely, appeared to be absent for a moment, and then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile disappeared and he was back in control.

Reaching the end of the corridor, the three men continued down to the 5th level.

*********

Xander finally started through the doorway to the stairs, shutting down his memories as he went, extending his senses in front of him as he calmly walked down the stairs, taking his time, knowing without even realizing why that there was no threat ahead of him.

His boots made almost no sound as they impacted on each rung, in sharp contrast to the sound generated by the other men moments earlier as they sprinted down the stairs, his impact resistant soles absorbing his weight with each step.

His appearance was changed from the dark ghost that had witnessed the death of over 50 policemen in New York just a few short months before; the black night garments he had worn that night replaced by green overalls, designed to blend into the jungle foliage where he had laid prior to both his initial assault and the later ambush of the support squads. As he made his way down the stairwell, he reached to his neck, unzipping the loose clothing with one smooth action.

The green streaked fabric fell to the floor as he continued onward, left unwanted on the stairs behind him. The action would no longer take place in the jungle, rendering the camouflage pointless in the gray and white of the inner levels of the building.

As the overalls fell, the outfit he was wearing beneath them came into view. His outfit beneath was non-descript, dark trousers, a faded gray t- shirt, and dark boots.

What he wore on top of his clothes could never be described as non- descript. Kevlar body armor covered his entire upper torso, lighter armor protecting his shoulder and elbow joints, the ringed ridges designed to create flexibility while providing as much protection as possible without inhibiting his movement. Similar padding covered his knees for the same reason.

A miniature computer unit was strapped to one forearm, the state of the art liquid crystal and plasma display dormant for the moment, its design giving no hint of its purpose or capabilities. A small black dot was fixed to the side of his lips, on the opposite side of his face to the long scar, his voice command connection to the unit by his wrist almost indistinguishable beneath the face paint that still smeared his complexion.

The state of the art capabilities of his body armor and computer were not what would have drawn the attention of any witnesses, were any witnesses still alive in the vicinity to observe him. What would have drawn their attention however, was the weaponry attached to his outfit.

Instead of the twin short swords that he had carried that night in New York, this time there was only one longer blade, this time running the length of his spine from the base of his back to the nape of his neck, its length limited by the need to allow flexibility for his neck and head.

One day I'll try a sword like Wesley Snipes did in Blade. Don't see how the hilt didn't get in the way of his head movements though..

Strapped to the three parts of his arms unoccupied by the computer were fastened three small guns, their shape designed to make use of an area of the body not typically used to carry weapons. The same shoulder holsters were present, this time filled with much larger pistols, the shape and size not fitting to any known design, custom made for the man who was carrying them.

Twin racks of grenades were strapped to his chest, forming an x with the center just below his ribcage. Each grenade smaller than standard, the same blue and white stripes were present, this time interrupted by an occasional dark red colored tube, these somehow appearing more threatening than the globe shapes on either side of them.

In his left hand he held the grenade launcher he had used to open the doors behind and above him, reloaded and ready to fire should he need it, dangling loosely at his side.

A similar utility belt as before was strapped around his waist, this time included a number of shells clearly for use in the launcher dangling below them. The uses of a number of devices on the belt remained unclear however, their appearance giving no immediate sign of their purpose.

Strapped to each thigh were wicked looking knives, not designed for throwing on this occasion, but clearly designed to carve whatever they encountered apart upon close contact. The same writing and etching that had been apparent on those knives and swords he had carried in New York could be seen on every metallic surface on his body - a mixture of crosses, language and symbols, blending together as if part of a flowing picture.

His lower shin bones were protected by what appeared to be shin-pads, interrupted by the studs that covered their outer surface, in the shape of large crosses that stretched almost from ankle to knee.

The weapon carried in his right hand would never fit a normal classification. Somewhere in between an automatic rifle, a hand held uzi and a normal pistol, the weapon fitted his appearance as if designed for him, which just happened to be the case. It wrapped around his fist, stretching past the trigger fingers to cover the back of his hand almost like a glove.

The final item, aside from the same gloves he always wore, was the most normal of all - a green duffel bag slung over one shoulder, slightly battered in appearance, but bulging with additional weaponry and ammunition.

Passing through the shattered security unit area, ignoring the bodies and debris scattered all around, he continued to the stairs at the opposite end. He was well aware of what he had passed through - how could he not be, having been responsible for it all in the first place.

As he reached the stairwell, pausing for a moment as he scanned the area to ensure no-one remained nearby, his mind took the brief pause as a signal to drag up his memories once more...

*********
..he had been in the facility for several months now, most of his time spent in his white room or in the simulator room, every movement tracked by several soldiers at all times. There was no privacy, no secrets, every minute of time spent under guard, every action he performed watched continuously, recorded for whatever purpose they seemed to feel they were trying to achieve.

Xander still didn't quite understand why he was here. It wasn't as if the two occasions he had been possessed had had much effect on his life afterwards. So ok, he remembered enough to steal the rocket launcher from Sunnydale's armory, and he had retained enough knowledge to organize the students to at least some success in the battle against the Mayor, but after that it had all faded away as if it had never happened.

For god's sake, he had nearly fried himself when playing with the damaged blaster they got from the Initiative, before Riley turned up and dismantled it in seconds! Then, when trying to show off his knowledge to Giles when they went out on patrol, he had humiliated himself when he couldn't even remember how to put the simple pistol together, having to get the Englishman to help him.

He wondered what had happened to the rest of the group in his absence. He couldn't remember quite how he had got here, the drugs that had coursed through his system having had the accidental effect of clouding the memories of what he assumed was his last day of freedom. He remembered being in the park, the whole group around him, an impromptu picnic spread out on the floor in front of him, gorging on Twinkies, much to the amusement of the rest, but what had happened after that was just a blank. The only thing he could remember was Riley Finn laughing at him, his fist heading towards his facec, shouting at him about trust and teaching him a lesson.

He hoped they were all ok without him, not really thinking they couldn't cope without him, the doughnut king, but knowing that he would have been devastated if any of them had gone missing and hoping they felt the same about him. Were they searching for him? Or had they given up by now?

He cut himself off from that line of thought even as he began it. He'd run through the same line of questioning with himself many times as the time passed and it never helped. Bringing up memories only brought pain and he was having of that already without creating his own.

The simulations didn't appear to be doing whatever the scientists were trying achieve. Every day he was taken to the room and strapped into the bodysuit. Then, using a mixture of the computerized goggles in front of his eyes and the soldiers available in the facility, they ran him through tests, scenarios, each one different from the last.

In some he was patrolling and fighting with soldiers in different terrains - jungles, deserts, cities..

In some he was out with the slayer, fighting off demons and vampires as they sprung from the darkness..

In some he was a policeman, storming buildings as part of an urban assault team, fighting drug and weapon dealers...

In some he was on his own, dumped behind enemy lines, enemies on all sides, no weapons to fight with...

In some he was the only line of protection against those attacking innocents, women, children, his friends...

In some...the list went on, scenario after scenario after scenario, all different, all the same.

Because in all the scenarios, one thing was constant..

He Died.

Whether it be shot by humans, shredded by demons, ripped apart by wild animals, or drained by vampires, the same thing happened each time,

He Died

Each day they forced him back to perform in their games, his wounds given no time to heal, scars forming over his body from the impacts, the simulations still involving real contact, only the killing blows being pulled. But every day,

He Died.

*********

Then one day they didn't come for him, and he was left alone, his body given time to heal. He almost regretted the break in action, for the extra time gave his mind even more to run over what had happened to him over the time he had spent here.

He had nightmares now. Every night he reran his own death over and over, the scientists simulations having given him the opportunity to experience his death in almost any way possible. The technology they had used had made him feel his own "death", not just watching it, the computer connections to his body and head simulating every possible sensation.

He had "felt" the bullets entering his body, shattering bones, destroying organs, crippling him, paralyzing him.

He had "felt" the demons claws and jaws ripping and tearing at his flesh, pulling off his limbs while he tried to fight back.

He had "seen" his friends and relatives dying in front of him, over and over again, listening to them blaming him for their death, asking him why he had not done anything to prevent it.

He had tried, he had done his best every time, in every scenario, trying to do whatever it was they wanted. Not to help them or please them but simply because if he didn't do his best, it simply ended faster and he was just thrown back in again even faster. He could not stop them strapping him into the simulator, just as he could not stop what followed.

He had improved over time; how could he not? The experiences helped him to last each time a little longer than before, to fight off more opponents, to kill more fighting against him, but in the end the same thing always happened.

He died - and the scientists didn't seem happy about it. From the looks amongst those who supervised the experiment and the muttering of those who dragged him from cell to simulator and back, sometimes blindfolded, sometimes not, he didn't see their patience holding out much longer.

And he feared that when their patience ended, they weren't going to simply let him go on his merry way.

*********

Two days later and he still hadn't been called back to fight, and the fear of what might lie ahead, of the unfamiliar, was starting to worry him more than that which had already taken place.

In the event, his fear was justified.

For although the next scenario was in many ways similar to those he had undergone already, his tormentors had come up with a new twist - a twist that changed his view of the situation completely.

Instead of being taken from his cell as usual, the soldiers who normally stormed his cell waited outside. For the first time since he was first exposed to the scientists through the glass wall of his cell, the window turned transparent, exposing those waiting for him and the figure accompanying them.

A figure he hadn't seen for months.

A woman he thought he might never see again.

He would rather he truly had died than have to see the girl he loved with all his heart in this place, with those who had caused him so much pain, her pale face downcast, almost hidden by the hair hanging over her face..

Xander's entire stance appeared to crumple at the sight of her; the straight backed figure he always tried to portray in front of his captives to avoid any sign of defeat, despite what he might be feeling, proving impossible to maintain.

For if she was held here as well, then who would be the one to save him? If she was working with Riley Finn to do this to him, after all their experiences together, then his heart would break from the betrayal.

The expression on his face reflected the thoughts running through his mind, his face like an open book to those who knew what to look for. Already pale after months underground away from the sun, he turned a chalk white as the blood drained from his face.

For worse than the ending of his hope of rescue, worse than the pain of a friends possible betrayal, fulfilling one of his worst nightmares, was the dread that she was being held here just like him.

Because if they were going to this much trouble just to try to bring out his lost memories or whatever they were, then what would they have done to test her powers?

What had they done to her?

And what did they have planned for him that needed her presence..

*********