Title: Long Term

Disclaimer: Don't own nothin' like BtVS.

Spoilers: BtVS S1-7

Summery: Xander's still shifty-like…


Long Term

"I won't start at the beginning, time constraints you understand, so I'll give ya the bullet points version instead. Now don't be afraid to ask questions, I'll be introducing new and strange concepts that you all might not grasp right away. So, you know, speak up, and remember: there are no stupid questions."

"Oh, you bastard!" Buffy whispered venomously.

"Buffy, Buffy, Buff! Don't be like that, I'm just trying to communicate with you on a level you can easily comprehend."

"Asshole," Faith growled.

Xander shrugged and said, " I prefer, "That Which is Above All." But, okay, asshole works, too."

Xander hopped back and landed on top of the table, swinging his feet onto the seat of the chair. He hunched over and let his forearms rest on his thighs and clasped his hands together. The levity on his expression muted before he went on to say in a much more subdued tone of voice.

"I told them… I told them I'd die for them, and I'd kill for them. I was thirteen-years-old… can you, any of you, comprehend the gravity of such a thing coming from a kid?"

"Who are they?" Willow asked.

"The Powers," Angel answered, no doubt in an attempt to look smarter than he was.

"Right, boyo!" Xander exclaimed. A curled upper lip and silent snarl was Angel's response.

"The same guys Angel works for?" Faith asked.

"The very same forces Angel served faithfully like a little puppy for the past four years." Man, making fun of Angel… it never gets old!

"I'm sure you didn't let us find you just so you could mock Angel," Willow said gravely, her eyes searching Xander's face with unwavering intensity.

Xander smiled. "You'd be surprised," he said. "But you're right, I didn't, and you go girl for figuring that out… you know, the letting you find me part."

Xander took his gaze from Willow and surveyed the rest of the group. "Like I said, I worked for the PTB's, I basically helped take care of their more volatile problems like mini-apocalypses and the odd "oh, shit! That wasn't supposed to happen!" situations. I was a part of a very exclusive club-a group of warriors called the Last Line of Defense. Hokey, I know, but hey, humanity was barely sentient when the program started so the Powers got to name us a bit too literally."

"Are you saying there is line of mystical warriors other than Slayers?" Giles asked, the alarm and fascination in his voice was apparent.

"Your astuteness continues to shock and overwhelm me, Giles," Xander said. "Can someone smarter please pose you guys' questions?" Xander's open derision was deliberate and biting.

Giles face flushed red all over. "Excuse me?" he asked sharply.

Xander's right eye twinkled and he said, "Love to, but I don't think Buffy would like if I sent you to the farthest reaches of the planet. Now, can someone ask an intelligent question?"

"Why did they pick you?" Willow asked, stepping forward, effectively preventing Giles from verbally expressing his growing outrage, outrage that was having its way with the lines in his face.

"I'd like to say it was because I was special, all once in a generation, and only I could yak, yak, yak, but that wouldn't be true. There are actually several dozen Last Liners operating at any given time, and the only thing all of us—they—have in common that makes them qualified to protect the world is that at one point or another they all decided, sub-consciously or consciously, there are some things worth more than their lives. Almost anyone can become a Last Liner if they have no sense of self-preservation."

"They chose you because you're a good person," Willow replied carefully.

Xander arched his left eyebrow at her in response. Then after a moment he said, "Certainly you don't think that's going to work, do you? Sorry, Willow, I'm afraid we're a little past the point where appealing to my humanity is going to turn me around."

Willow tried to smile and for the first time since she'd confronted him tears spilled from her eyes. "That doesn't mean I can't try."

"Mmm…" Xander stared at Willow curiously, then after a moment he shrugged indifferently. He said, "Go right ahead then, if it makes you feel better.

"Civil war," Xander continued abruptly after he took his eye off Willow, "after I discovered there could be more than one Slayer, civil war became my golden ticket."

"Huh?" Buffy asked. "I think you skipped over some parts."

"I told you, Buffy, bullet points, otherwise I won't get to the nitty-gritty before I leave. That, and Willow might get lucky and actually bust down my barrier, then I'd have to engage in some tedious free for all with you guys. Which is not something I'm interested in doing, so…"

Willow tensed and behind her the others glanced at each other apprehensively. Xander rolled his eye, this time at their arrogance. Like they'd keep this get together civil for any other reason than to bide time—not a big group of conversationalists these people are.

"Okay, what now?" Buffy thought telepathically at the others.

"Keep him talking," Angel replied telepathically as well. "Willow might still be able to break down his protective shield."

"Don't mean to sound like a complete pussy, but we need to get Robin and the others down here in case she does. This asshole's gonna be a problem if we do get to him," Faith added.

"Willow?"

"What is it, Buffy?" Willow answered, even telepathically those connected to her heard how distracted she was.

"Keep your head in the game, Red," Faith thought at the witch.

"Faith's right, Will, stay focused. Can you break through Xander's shield?" Buffy asked.

"I… I think so, with enough time."

"Good, but be careful. Open a link to Robin's group," Buffy requested.

Willow complied, expanding her magically enhanced thoughts to reach out and encompass the group outside the warehouse.

"All we need 'ta do now is keep this asshole talk-"

"So, anyway, I guess maybe I can give you a little more background without prattling on too much," Xander said, grinning from ear to ear. Causing the group to exchange more nervous glances. They wondered if Xander somehow tapped their telepathic communication and was he toying with them. Xander's grin only grew more brilliant.

"Okay, it's like this: for three years I was the primary guardian of the Hellmouth. Did a good job, too, if I do say so myself." Xander turned his gaze onto Buffy alone, not quite glaring but there was something in his eye that made Angel, Giles, and Faith move a little closer the superfluous Slayer. "Then Buffy came and I was… I guess you can say I was sidelined."

"Are you telling me you went ape shit because you got fired?" Angel asked. "I always knew you were a petulant little brat, Xander, but that goes beyond the pale!"

"Listen more carefully, boyo, I said sidelined. Put on the bench. Bench warmer. Utility Guy. Placed on hiatus on super hero prime time. But not fired, in fact I bet right now the Powers That Be are wishing they had pink slipped my ass. None of this would be happening. They wouldn't be facing oblivion."

The light bulb hanging overhead began to flicker, casting a strobe-like effort throughout the surrounding area before blinking out completely.

"What are you doing, Xander?" Buffy asked, her voice sopping with suspicion. She and the others-except Willow-clustered even closer together. Xander smiled at them through the darkness.

"I think visual aids are in order. Don't sweat it! I mean it's not like there are zombies or earth-demons lurching towards you. No offense, Will."

Xander watched Angel look around, his vampire enhanced vision adapting to the darkness more quickly than the Slayer's, who were spinning in circles trying to locate any danger coming at them with their other senses. "There aren't," Angel confirmed before turning his careful gaze to Xander, where upon his eyes narrowed with absolute hatred. But an instant later Angel's eyes widened when he noticed their surroundings—the metal shelves and their burden, the warehouse itself—fading away.

"What are you doing?" Faith asked, her vision having penetrated the blackness finally.

"Taking you guys back. Way back to six years ago. To the night after Buffy destroyed the Master, when Hageos tried to finish what ol' bat-face started…"

"You're lying," Giles declared.

"I am?"

"I know you are. Hageos has been dead for five hundred years."

"Do tell, oh, Wise Man," Xander said sardonically enough that Giles didn't have to see the mocking smirk plastered across his face to know it was there. "Explain to me the ways of the world."

"Ah, well, not much in known about Hageos other than he almost subjugated all of humanity with his hellish armies. He was feared for his mastery over death magics and insatiable need to butcher humans." Giles voice rose and he puffed out his chest, full of pride—well, certainly full of something, Xander mused. "He was eventually brought down by an earlier incarnation of the Watchers and-"

"Unimorei Sokkoi, the Vampire Slayer," Xander finished. "Good to know you can still regurgitate textbook history lessons on fly, Giles."

From the look on his face Giles was shocked Xander knew the revered Slayer's name, but Xander didn't allow Giles or anyone a chance to ask more questions, exerting his will he slowly lit the ebon. Willow kept her eyes on Xander while he continued to appraise her friends with obvious superiority—the kind of superiority that only came when you felt in complete control—while he disregarded her. Then, suddenly, his illusion flared and crystallized into images, bringing with them an assault of sounds and smells. It took only seconds for Buffy, Giles, Faith, and Angel to recognize their new environment. It was the Bronze.

Willow refused to take her eyes off of Xander.

They stood in the middle of the dance floor, kids Buffy remembered from Sunnydale High crowded in and danced, many of them gyrating right through the incursion group like careless ghost. "You won't remember this particular night as anything special, Giles," Xander said, his voice carrying above the loud music and energetic chatter issuing from the Bronze's young patrons.

Xander appeared to be floating in an invisible chair above the dance floor as he surveyed the Bronze with a bored expression. "You weren't with us. Not that it would have mattered if you had been, Buffy and Willow didn't retain any memories of that night either." Xander pointed through the phantom crowd. "You see, there we are," he said, now directing their attention to the far end of the nightspot.

The so-called strike team faced the direction Xander's finger pointed in, even Willow turned to see what he wanted to show them. On cue the crowd parted and revealed an area bordering the dance floor. Xander sensed Buffy's and the rest's surprise, but only from Willow did he sense the ache of nostalgia when her gaze found them.

The three of them: Buffy, Willow and Xander sitting together at a small table that could barely seat the trio. If they were uncomfortable the teenage versions of the now older, wiser, guiltier Scoobies appeared not to mind. In fact, they laughed and conversed with verve and ease.

Xander sighed. "Man, look at me," he said, "I was so pretty."