Chapter 2

"Okay, that does it," Xander said as, for the umpteenth day in a row, he woke up while standing under a cold shower. Well, not woke up exactly. He dimly remembered how he had ended up in there, so he must've been at least half awake, but this was really going too far. The soldier memories weren't doing what they were supposed to do. Was it that much to ask for some decent sleeping time?

Stepping out of the shower and toweling of, he considered it for a moment. No, it wasn't too much. Every man had the right not to be awoken on the second day of his Christmas break by some redundant memories, that believed six o'clock was the right time to get out of bed. He could deal with it when he had classes, even during the weekends it could be considered as just another annoying side-effect of his nighttime activities.

"But not in my vacation," he growled before reentering his, clean, room. And that was another thing, how could anyone live in a place where everything was ordered? He had always been of the 'pile it somewhere and deal with it later' variety, but now... Now he could actually tell where everything was. And, according to what Giles had read in that book of his, this could go on for a long time.

In fact, he thought angrily, it would go on longer the more he used it. And considering the fact that the waking up thing happened every single morning that meant it might go on for years. He really couldn't deal with that. He needed his sleep, sleeping in was a good thing. In fact, it almost rated as high as twinkies did.

So, what should he do now? He was awake, but as it was still dark outside he didn't really have anything to do. A problem he'd had ever since that Halloween, but one he had adapted to by putting his homework off until his six o'clock wake-up call. But it was vacation! He didn't have any homework to do.

Okay, now he was really starting to scare himself. Quickly returning to the bathroom he checked his reflection in the mirror. No, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with him physically. But there had to be something, this just wasn't natural. Never before had he actually had such a ridiculous thought where he wished for homework. He was Xander, not Willow. Homework equaled badness, something everybody understood.

Now then, having decided that whatever was wrong with him had to do with mystical stuff he didn't really know what to do. Call Buffy or Willow and ask them to help him? Considering the time that might be tantamount to suicide, and the situation wasn't nearly bad enough for something like that. But what else could he do? Not coming up with any other ideas he gave up for the moment and chose to make breakfast. Maybe he'd be able to think of something with a full stomach.

XXX

"Did you get it?" Jane asked her friend as the door opened for her.

Sara looked at her with an expression that clearly stated her opinion about the likelihood of failure. "Of course I've got it. Do you doubt my shopping abilities now?"

Sara Flynn, shopping queen. "Of course not, I wouldn't think about it. You are the mistress of the mall, the ruler of shops, the..."

"Alright, stop it," Sara broke in, struggling not to laugh at her antics. "Come in, and I'll show it to you."

Now we're talking, Jane thought as she followed her friend inside. "Hey, have you talked to Dawn since she left?"

"Nah, you?"

"Last night actually. She called me, said she'd probably call you tonight or tomorrow."

"As she should," Sara snorted before going into the kitchen. "Want something?"

"A coke please," Jane answered, before turning back to the reason she'd brought up her conversation with Dawn. "Her dad is giving her some trouble about the incident."

"Really? Whatever for? Wasn't she punished enough, I mean I know she went a little overboard, but come on," Jane said while handing her the cold drink she'd requested.

"Thanks. But yeah, I don't really get it myself. And apparently her father even used some stupid excuses after he blew up."

"Oh god, let me guess," Sara put up a fake look of concentration. "Was it the bad day at the office one, or maybe he had a bad hair day?"

"Well, he used the office one, but it was basically of the 'I don't want you to ruin your life' sort."

"Oh no, doesn't he know Dawn at all? I mean, if something like that was gonna work she'd never have beaten Mike up."

"Yeah, but she's changed since he last saw her. Not," Jane added at the look she received, "that that is actually a good reason, but it would explain his behavior. Especially what with dragging Buffy in it and all."

"He compared her to Buffy? And I thought the other thing was stupid. So, how'd she react?"

"Fake tears and all that sort of guilt tripping."

"Good."

At least Sara understood this sort of thing, but Jane wondered if there would be anyone else who could. "Yeah, it would've really been bad if she'd attacked him or something."

"We really need to find out what's wrong with her, you know. Especially now that she's started to show up in the morning looking like a zombie."

She sighed, while considering that. They had talked about what might be the cause of Dawn's bad sleeping thing, but until she stayed over for a night they couldn't find out. Luckily though that time was coming soon; most of their friend's punishment had been done with and once the grounding was over the two of them could surely come up with a reason to get her to stay over. "I'm sure we'll find out soon. Anyway, we've talked about that enough, I want to see it."

"Oh alright, it's upstairs in my room. Finish your drink and we'll go look."

Not needing to be told twice, Jane drained her nearly full glass of black, bubbly liquid in one go and jumped to her feet. "So, what are we waiting for? I'm done." And when Sara stared at her in shock, still holding her own full glass, she burst out in laughter.

XXX

After breakfast Xander had indeed remembered a good way to spend his time, so for the next several hours he had enjoyed watching Sunday morning cartoons. By the time his parents had gotten out of bed he'd decided to head out to see if Willow or Buffy were up yet. Of course, his luck struck again and, aside from the cartoons, he had a feeling nothing was going to be right on that day. Unfortunately, this time he couldn't blame anyone besides himself. He'd completely forgotten their girls' day out and by the time he arrived they'd already left.

So he had to figure it out by himself, or go to Giles. Xander considered that for a moment, but decided against it. Even the G-man deserved a break, and besides why wouldn't he be able to come up with something by himself? And if he really couldn't figure anything out, he could always wait for his friends to return before having to bother the Brit with his problems. But first he would try it himself.

So it was that, almost two months after he'd spent a morning on that same bench, he was once again sitting in the park. And while watching the children playing all around him, he started to make a mental list of the issues he was facing.

1. He was still influenced by the spell that had messed up his Halloween.
2. This meant that he woke up at an ungodly hour in the morning.
3. That was definitely going to ruin his vacation.
4. He also cleaned his room to such an extent that even his mother had noticed. She who never noticed anything.
5. He had all the worst characteristics of the soldier.
6. Why couldn't that sort of thing ever work for him, instead of against him?

He stopped with the ridiculous list when he considered that last point. Why couldn't it work in his favor? After all, Giles never said that only the annoying bits would keep bothering him. Of course, he also said that he couldn't be certain about any of it, but that sort of thing shouldn't stop him from trying.

So, if he couldn't get rid of it all, maybe he should try and get something positive out of it? That was definitely an option, and one he liked at that. Now, with that decided, how should he go about it? What could he learn from the soldier that might actually be of use? Military tactics? Well that would be a little hard to practice, but might help him in videogames.

What else? Everything that he chose was something that he should be able to practice, as without practice he would lose the skill. Just like in real life, Xander snorted. But he couldn't think of anything right then, which left only the one thing that soldiers were actually known for. The fighting.

He didn't know a lot about fighting styles, but he was aware that there were probably three kinds of fighting that he'd need to practice. Unarmed combat, which would probably require a martial arts class or something like that. Knife fighting, which he had no idea how to practice. And finally, firearms. Guns. He'd have to learn how to use a gun.

But how useful was a gun against a vampire? Both of the others he knew would be useful—substitute a knife with a stake and he would be able to dust a vampire. Unarmed, but capable of fighting? At least you'd have a chance to survive until an opportunity presented itself or help arrived. But a gun? He thought back to the only time he knew of when guns had been used against vampires.

During that night of Halloween the soldier that had taken over his body had used his gun against the bloodsuckers. The effect hadn't exactly been great however. While it had enabled him to stake one of the vamps they mostly just laughed at his attempt. Remembering the grisly sight of the massacred vampire however, he realized that bullets might have some use after all. If you shot a vampire several times in the head, they were helpless.

Only one problem with that scenario. How do you get a vamp to stand still long enough for you to aim carefully and put the bullet where you want it? Because Xander had no doubt that the ease with which they did so in Hollywood wasn't exactly close to the way it happened in reality. Sure, there were undoubtedly people who could draw a gun and without taking the time to really aim shoot someone in the head.

But they were also undoubtedly the exception, and not the rule. To achieve a skill like that would take a lot of practice, but why shouldn't he try? It couldn't hurt and maybe there were other things that a skill like that might help with. Some demons might be vulnerable to bullets, after all that would make sense wouldn't it? And maybe there was a way to create wooden bullets or something? Right, and maybe he should stop fantasizing and actually try to get his hands on a gun before he tried something like that.

So, he had a plan. Yep, a real, honest-to-god, plan. It was almost scary. Now what was the plan again? Oh yeah. See about martial arts training, which would probably have to wait until after the break was over since those places were probably closed now. But on the other hand, he could ask where it was that Dawnie went; if that place was good for her, it might be for him as well. Now then, what else? The knife fighting thing, of course. He'd probably have to ask G-man about that, it was unlikely that there was anyone else in town he could talk to who might be able to teach him how to fight with a stake. Hey, maybe he should ask him about the unarmed stuff too? He did train Buffy in it after all. On the other hand, his training might then interfere with hers, and he didn't want that to happen either. He'd have to think about it.

And finally there was the gun thing. Giles was unlikely to know about something like that, after all the guy was from a country where not even the cops carried guns. So, who could he go to who might know a way for him to train with a gun?

XXX

"Wow, it looks so real," Jane murmured while picking up their gift for Dawn. "Hey, it's even heavy."

"When I buy, I buy the best," Sara said, looking more than a little pleased that Jane had approved of the way it looked.

"Definitely, and I'm sure Dawn'll love it."

"Almost as much as the other idea."

Oh no, not again. "Oh come on, you know we couldn't do that."

"It would've been fun though, and she'd have been really happy with it." But the look Jane gave her friend was obviously enough for her to amend that statement—slightly. "Yeah, yeah. I know, we couldn't do it because of your logical reasons."

"Logistical reasons."

"Logical, logistical, what's the diff? I never swallowed a dictionary you know."

Jane swatted her friend, even though the long standing joke was becoming a little stale by now she kept reacting to it. Who knew what the two of them would come up with if she didn't? "Logistical means transportation and storage, you bonehead."

"See, what kind of problem is that? He has feet doesn't he?"

Even knowing that Sara was joking didn't keep her from reacting to the statement. "Yeah, and I'm sure he'd willingly walk where we'd direct him. Sheesh. Anyway, that would still leave the storage thing."

"Oh, that wouldn't be a problem. Dawn'd probably tie him to her bed. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't mind that."

"Yeah, you're probably right about that." Just thinking of how her friend would deal with that gift almost sent her to the ground laughing. "But that's not what I meant, and you know it. Even if it was, there'd be the trouble of feeding and stuff."

Sara, obviously having come up with answers in advance to everything she'd be able to think of, immediately spoke up. "Oh, she could walk him."

It took a while to dispel the laughter that resulted from that image, but when it had she decided she might as well join in. "Right, and can you imagine Buffy's face when she'd come down on Christmas Morning?"

"Yeah," Sara said, before trying to copy the voice of their friend's sister. "Dawn? Why is Xander lying wrapped up under the tree? With a card that says he's for you?"

"Down girl. I can hardly breathe here," Jane gasped in between fits of laughter. It was a ridiculous idea, and so very impractical that they really had to try to do it some day—maybe for Dawn's birthday. An opportunity like that was just too good to waste. She was gaining a little control over her body again, but when she looked at Sara who was still trying to mimic how Buffy would look in that situation, the giggles started up again.

When they had finally recovered Jane turned serious though. "You know, while I'm sure that she'll love it, are we doing the right thing?"

"What? Giving a weapon to someone who has at least one personality that loves violence?" Sara shrugged, clearly not agreeing that there was anything serious about the situation. "I trust that Dawn won't do anything really bad with it, besides it's wood y'know. And while I bought the best I could get, we didn't have enough money for it to be anything but a toy."

"A toy, well maybe." Examining the gift once again Jane considered their options. She had been the one to push for this idea, but still... "Well, I guess you're right about that. But you know what they say. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and looks like a duck..."

"Duck? It's a sword, what's that got to do with a duck?" Hearing her friend say that, Jane did her utmost to resist the urge to beat her own head against the wall. Sometimes being the only one to understand certain sayings really got to her.

XXX

He was actually firing a gun. And even, after quite some misses, coming close to hitting the things he aimed for. Well, Xander winced as another shot went wide, sometimes close wasn't quite the word he was looking for. On the other hand he knew that his shooting wasn't all that bad. When he paid attention he managed to hit the white circle almost every single time, and often at least one of those shots was near the bull's-eye.

Stepping back he ejected the clip and, licking his dry lips, looked at his uncle for the comments that had proven to be so very useful. The man was looking critically at the target hanging from the ceiling about 50 feet away, clearly considering the response he should give this time. It was strange how expecting a comment from a member of his family could actually make him nervous.

After all, it wasn't like most of them had ever really paid any attention to him. But when, hours before, he'd arrived at his uncle's place asking to be taught how to use a gun, there'd actually been a long conversation. Why did he want to use a gun? Was he planning on buying one? Did he know how to take care of something like that? Had he ever learned basic safety where it concerned guns?

He'd had to dodge the first question, telling his uncle he wanted to use it for hunting demons was unlikely to have elicited the response he wanted. The second question was one he didn't actually know the answer to; did he want to buy a gun? Well, at least not before he could use it, after that he'd see. Guns cost money and, like with his plans for enrolling at a martial arts school, he wasn't sure how to finance that.

The other ones though he hadn't known anything about. So, after he had pleaded for his uncle to at least teach him the basics, and let him practice a little, the man explained it to him. How to clean your gun, how to check the sights, everything he'd never known about taking care of a weapon like that. And while in a way it was fairly simple, it was also far more complex than he'd imagined it to be.

But then came the safety regulations. And Xander was taught that the most important and basic part of shooting wasn't pulling the trigger, but making sure he didn't hit what he wasn't aiming for. Don't carry a round in the chamber, never forget to engage the safety. Make sure it's never within reach of children, and, very important, never ever combine guns with alcohol. Hearing that from a member of his family told him exactly how important that little detail was.

And finally, after it was clear that Xander understood all the implications of what carrying a gun entailed according to his uncle, they went to the shooting range. His uncle might not have been a regular, but he did know most of those who were. So when he told them he'd come to teach his nephew how to shoot, Xander had suddenly become the center of attention. A position he hadn't really wanted to be in, but had no choice about.

Comments had started flying about what kind of gun he should use, what type would fit his hands best, how he should ride the recoil. And even more comments, half of which he didn't understand at all. But when one of the regulars, a retired army sergeant, had handed him a Beretta M-9 he had known that was it. The same type of gun as he'd used during Halloween, he was certain that he'd be able to use it nearly instantaneously.

Well, at least they hadn't laughed when he emptied the first clip without once hitting the target. But that hadn't really mattered, he'd still felt as if he was the worst shot ever. Fifteen clear misses, at a mere forty feet, while he'd been sure he'd hit the bull's-eye every time. After that humiliating experience it had become obvious that no matter how many memories he might have about firing guns, it wasn't nearly the same when you were actually holding the weapon.

"Well, except for that second-to-last one, this wasn't that bad a round. Don't you agree men?" his uncle broke his train of thoughts.

"Nah Rory, the kid's starting to shape up. With a couple more weeks of practice we might even forget that first attempt." Okay, so they hadn't needed laughter to ridicule him. Did he really have to be reminded of it that often?

"Don't be so hard on the boy Jake. He simply watched too much television, that could've happened to anyone."

"Yeah, but he's still not handling the recoil well," one of the other men said, one who he, in absence of a name, had started to think of as the recoil man. "Remember Xander, you're not that big and strong. You can't expect your body to be able to handle the pressure that the gun puts on it. Maybe once you've buffed up a little, but not yet."

Listening carefully to the man, as he tried to explain how he should deal with the recoil, Xander didn't even notice the pain in his muscles, or the way his nose seemed stuffed with the smell of burned cordite. He was finally learning something useful for helping Buffy and, despite their insistent teasing, these men were doing their best to help him achieve that goal.

XXX

Sitting with her back against the hard frame of Sara's bed, Jane was busy considering the difficult question she'd just been asked. "No, I'd still have to go for Titanic. It was a little predictable what with knowing it was gonna sink and all, but I liked it more."

"Really? And was it the story that you liked, or the main character?"

Who did she think she was? Well, her best friend naturally, but really, what kind of question was that? "The story of course, sheesh, who do you think I am? Some kind of cheerleader wannabe?"

"So, you didn't like him?"

"I never said that," Jane defended herself. Just because he wasn't the main reason didn't mean that he wasn't a positive point. "In fact, if you absolutely have to gift-wrap someone as a Christmas present I wouldn't mind getting him."

Their laughter was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Sara?"

"Oh, hi mom," Sara answered as she walked over to open the door. "Is there something you want?"

"No dear, I just came up to tell you I was home. Hello Jane," the woman then greeted her.

"Hi Mrs Flynn."

"Don't let me disturb you any longer then, I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

"Sure mom," Sara said while closing the door, and moving to take her seat next to Jane again. "So, where were we?"

"You were just about to go and catch me a movie star as a Christmas present."

"Well I would, but you know there are these logic- I mean logistical reasons why I can't do it." And to think she managed to say that with a straight face!

"Bitch," Jane said fondly to her friend.

"Yeah, you too. Hey, you wanna stay over for dinner?"

"What're you having?"

"Dunno, probably something good though, and besides, that way mom and I won't have to eat alone." Oh yeah, Mr. Flynn was on some kind of business trip again.

"Will your dad be back in time for Christmas?"

For a moment her friend looked sad as she considered it. "Hopefully, he wasn't really sure though."

Oh man, that really blew. "Hey, cheer up girl, I'm sure he'll be on time. And he'll probably bring you some nice present to make it up to you."

"As long as you get things right?"

If she hadn't known her friend meant it as a joke she would've felt insulted, instead though, she decided to play along. "Yeah well, you know how it is. Love 'em and leave 'em."

"Oh yes. And I'm sure that the hundreds of men you've had have all been very disappointed when they woke up to find you gone," Sara said before once again collapsing in a heap of giggling flesh. And it wasn't long before Jane joined the madness.

"Hey, who knows? In a couple of years I might be going through men the way you go through clothes."

"Sure, and maybe I'll go and join a nunnery. Face it Jane, you're just too nice to do the love 'em and leave 'em thing."

Should she feel insulted or complimented about that? Deciding not to try to figure that out Jane changed the subject back to where it was before this. "But anyway, I'll have to call my parents but I'd like to stay for dinner."

"Cool, I'll tell mom." Jane watched as Sara jumped up and once more walked to the door before shouting downstairs. "MOM!"

When no reply was forthcoming though she noticed how her friend suddenly realized something. "What?"

Sara rolled her eyes, obviously finding what she was about to say ridiculous. "I forgot, mom's been all over me teaching me to be a proper lady and all. She won't answer when I shout. I'll have to go downstairs to tell her. Hey! Stop laughing! That isn't funny! JANE!"

XXX

"So, what do you think of your first day shooting a gun?" his uncle asked.

He needed a moment to think of the best way to reply to that statement, after all, it wasn't nearly as innocuous a question as it seemed. "It wasn't really what I expected. I mean, I really thought I'd be doing better."

A brief smile appeared on his uncle's face, while the man pulled to a stop in front of a traffic light. "Don't worry about that, you were doing pretty good there at the end. Everybody has to start somewhere. Although that first round of yours surprised me, it almost looked as if you knew exactly how to go about it but your body didn't. Care to explain that?" When Xander remained silent however, his uncle went on with another question. "But what other impressions did you get?"

"Sore muscles," Xander grumbled, while still trying to ignore another comment about his first attempt, the request for information, and ease the pain in his suffering arm. "I didn't expect it to hurt like this."

"Like Brad kept telling you, you didn't handle the recoil right. But even after you start doing so it will probably keep hurting for a while. What else?"

What was this? Twenty questions? No, he probably hadn't given the man the answer he wanted to hear yet. But what could that be? Oh, of course. "That guns should be handled with care, that they aren't toys to be used at every opportunity." While it was probably the answer that needed to be given for him to ever be allowed back on the shooting range, that wasn't the only reason he gave it. Using a gun as he did during the afternoon, and listening to all the stories the men had been more than willing to tell, had taught him respect for the weapon.

"Well, at least you've got the right words," Uncle Rory said while looking him over briefly. "And I can see that you mean it, which is even better. You do realize of course, that if I hadn't believed you this would've been our one and only visit to the range."

So, he had been right about that. And considering the good terms his uncle had been on with everybody there, he would've been able to ensure Xander never entered it alone either. Wait a minute, that also meant that... "You're gonna keep on teaching me?"

"A little, there isn't that much you'll need to be taught about shooting inside. Of course, out in the open it's a little different, although something like the wind isn't that much of a factor with handguns. Not that I would be able to teach you how to use a sniper rifle or anything, you'd have to ask the sergeant about that." Ask to be taught how to use a sniper rifle? While that sounded like fun, it also was a lot more than he'd expected.

"But why? I mean, I appreciate it and all, but you didn't seem to think it a good idea at first."

"I didn't believe you'd be able to handle a gun like it should be."

"You mean as a dangerous tool, instead of a toy?" That probably made sense, didn't it?

"Something like that," his uncle answered, before diverting the conversation to something else as he pulled to a stop in front of his house. "So, will you stay for dinner?"

XXX

"So Jane, Sara told me that you came up with the idea for Dawn's present." Uh-oh. It never meant anything good if a parent started talking like that. Oh well, she might as well see where this was gonna lead.

"Yeah, I did." Rule one when confronting a parent: If they want information, let them work for it.

"Do you think it's wise to give her a weapon when she's been so..." A silence followed as Sara's mom was thinking of a good word to describe Dawn's recent behavior.

"So violent? Of her rocker? Mentally disturbed? In need of having a loose screw reattached? Is that what you wanted to know Mrs. Flynn?" Even as she said it she knew she shouldn't have done so. Protecting her friend from abuse was fine, but common decency told her she shouldn't do it like this. Especially not while she was eating the woman's cooking.

"That's not quite how I would've put it, but yes." Man, Mrs. Flynn was good. She hardly batted an eye at that outburst, and the worst part was that it was the same question she'd asked Sara earlier. But they were allowed to ask themselves that kind of question, Dawn was their friend. Mrs. Flynn was a parent, so she decided to defend her friend against this unfair attack.

Finishing the potato she was eating Jane swallowed audibly before answering. "Okay, just to get this out of the way. Dawn might've had some issues with her control, but it isn't that bad. I know that nobody but us," she included Sara with a tilting of her head. "Believes that she was telling the truth about the self-defense thing."

"Self-defense doesn't normally end in the hospitalization of the attacker," Mrs. Flynn interjected.

"Pah," Jane waved that comment away. "The guy had it coming, he provoked Dawn and just because she's better doesn't mean he can go and scream for help as if he was an innocent little angel. He's one of the biggest bullies in school, no matter how innocent he tries to appear now."

"Yeah mom, he deserved what he got," Sara agreed with her.

"And that is why I don't think it's a good idea," Mrs. Flynn told her daughter. "You're starting to think like that as well, and so are you Jane. Violence isn't the answer to things like that."

"It can sure be damn handy though," Sara muttered in an aside.

"Sara!" Mrs. Flynn barked, shocking them both at the sudden intensity. "Watch your language young lady, or there will be trouble for you."

Strange how she had been more concerned about the words used than the actual comment, Jane thought. Maybe this conversation wasn't exactly what it appeared to be after all. But before she could ask about it Sara spoke up in a tiny voice. "Yes mom."

"Now Jane, as I said violence isn't the answer. And while I know it might seem like that sometimes, I'd expect the two of you, and Dawn as well, to understand the truth about that."

"But why do you keep talking about it? Most of the teachers don't even talk about it anymore, not even to Dawn. It was a one-off thing, it hasn't happened since," Jane pleaded, trying to regain her grip on the conversation. There was something wrong about it; it almost seemed that if she read between the lines Mrs. Flynn was actually condoning Dawn's action, but that couldn't be true now could it?

"I know, I've actually spoken to Joyce about it." Joyce? Oh, she probably meant Dawn's mom. "But I'm afraid it might get rekindled if you give her a weapon."

"Oh come on mom, I already told you. It's a fake, a good fake maybe, but still a fake."

"Yes, you've told me. And it's supposed to look exactly like one used in that violent show you three are so fond of. But be honest, do you think it could be used to hurt someone?" Mrs. Flynn had an expectant look on her face as she asked that last question.

Okay, Jane thought, she was finally starting to have a feeling where this might be leading. Maybe it wasn't so much about Dawn's actions, as to why they would buy her a weapon. Considered from a parental point of view that might look a little strange. Now then, how to actually talk the woman around to their point of view? From what she knew of Sara's mom, the woman considered truth to be very important, in fact, Sara often received more punishment for lying about something than whatever it was that she did. So telling the truth it was.

"Yes, it could be used to hurt someone. Especially by someone who doesn't really know how to handle a sword."

A satisfied smile on Mrs. Flynn's face told her that telling the truth had indeed been the right thing to do. Unfortunately, the smile could also mean that the woman considered her point to be proven. "Exactly my point. Another question, do you think Dawn, who only started martial arts training less than two months ago, is capable of handling it?"

"Yes." "Yes." Came from both Jane and Sara, who then looked at each other in surprise. But Jane was certain of it, Dawn was probably the only person she knew who she would trust using a sword. Why, that was so, she didn't know, but there was no doubt in her mind about it.

Apparently Mrs. Flynn had anticipated that answer as well. "I thought so, and while I doubt either of you understands exactly why, let alone are able to explain it to me, I'll just have to accept it, don't I?"

Well, that was easy, a little too easy perhaps. No, not perhaps, it was way too easy. But at least that part of the conversation appeared to be over now—until Mrs. Flynn opened her mouth again.

"And I have to admit that, while I'm not entirely comfortable yet with you two giving her a sword, it's a lot better than gift-wrapping that poor boy." Hey! How had she known about that?

XXX

This was just bloody wonderful, Xander thought as he made his way home. He really shouldn't have stayed that long with his uncle, or at least asked for a ride home, no matter how stupid that might've looked. But he hadn't done so, and now here he was walking through the dark, with a single cross as his only protection against the things that go bump in the night.

Oh well, he wasn't really good at statistics but what were the chances of him encountering a vampire or demon on his short path home? Oh yeah, this really was a wonderful situation. Had it been anyone else, any random inhabitant of Sunnydale, he would've been sure that the random person would get home unmolested. But not him, oh no, he knew his own luck. If winning the lotto was a million in one chance, there was no way he'd ever be the one to walk home with the prize. But if encountering a vampire on this walk, now while he was virtually unarmed, had the same chance of success, he'd win the prize.

Only a couple of more streets and one park to go. When would they come for him? For a moment he considered going to Buffy's house, but he had no idea if she'd be home, and he couldn't exactly ask Mrs. Summers if he could borrow a stake, now could he?

Nope, he'd just have to trust in his great and powerful cross, and hope that he'd make it home before it became necessary to actually test his nonexistent skills in unarmed combat. So he continued on, carefully looking around him so he'd be able to spot any trouble before it reached him. Without a weapon he might not be able to fight the creatures, but if it really came down to it he could run.

When he reached the park he still hadn't encountered any vampires, and with trees all around him he didn't have any trouble acquiring a makeshift stake. At least he wouldn't have to be afraid of being totally defenseless against an attack now. A broken-off branch from a tree wasn't the most reliable of weapons though, so he decided not to hang about but go straight home. If he wanted to go out again later, he could grab a decent stake first. No need to take any unnecessary risks.

Walking through the park he didn't need to hide his weapon and kept a firm grip on both the cross and the piece of tree he'd broken off. But even so he kept his ears and eyes wide open for any trouble that might be heading in his direction.

"I can't believe that bitch. Who does she think she is?" The words weren't very loud, and came from a way off, but Xander decided not to take any chances and stepped away from the path. If whoever was coming up from behind him was actually human he could always continue his walk later. If it wasn't however he might want to think about killing it.

When the first speaker received an answer though, he decided against it. One of whatever it was, and he was starting to bet on vampires, he might be able to handle, but two was a little too much. "The boss."

"Very funny, I mean why does she believe she can rule us?"

"Because she's more powerful maybe? Come on Tom, what do you think you're doing? Trying to get yourself dusted or something? If she hears you..." The threat was left hanging in the air but Xander, who by now had a good feeling who the two vampires were talking about, could imagine what might happen all too well.

"Pfft, as if she hears anything that hasn't got to do with that Green Lady of hers. And I mean, what's up with that? I know she's supposed to be a bit crazy, even with her having gone through that ritual to restore her strength and all, but really."

In the dim moonlight, Xander could see the smarter of the two shake his head. "You truly are suicidal aren't you? She's far more powerful than either of us, and don't you think that if Drusilla fears this Green Lady she might actually be dangerous? Spike seems to think so at least."

"Spike! He got himself in a wheelchair fighting with a little girl, it's not like he's a great shining light of a leader either." At that Xander almost started to feel sorry for the vampire. To be born stupid, and then be possessed by a stupid demon as well. What were the chances of that? He'd always figured that knowledge of the Slayer came with the demon, but that obviously wasn't the case here.

"Damn it Tom, don't act so stupid. He fought two Slayers at the same time, and he came out alive. Doesn't that tell you anything?" Spike fought two Slayers simultaneously? They couldn't be talking about that thing during the ritual could they? Because Spike hadn't done all that much fighting there. But maybe the vampire had spun a tale to impress his minions? Yes, that seemed like the kind of thing the blond would do.

The stupid vampire didn't seem to be all that impressed by it either and lit a cigarette while waving off the other's comments. "Yeah, it tells me he wasn't thinking clearly. A Slayer is still only a little girl you know. She may be stronger than even us but she still has a lot of human weaknesses."

Wrinkling his nose as the stench of the cigarette wafted to him, Xander wondered if he should reassess his opinion of the vampire. Maybe it wasn't as stupid as he first thought? But no, that comment probably hadn't been made out of tactical superiority but from ignorant overconfidence.

"Oh yeah, because you'd do so much better than he would. Sometimes I really wonder why I don't just stake you myself." As they passed his position the vampires were far too wrapped up in their conversation to notice him, but he stayed where he was until they were out of sight anyway.

When he walked back to the path however, he could see them again and stopped his movement, while watching as they stood a bit further down the path, silently, and with their heads raised. Either listening to something or sniffing the air—as if they could smell anything other than that filthy cigarette. For a moment he believed they'd spotted him after all, and he got ready to defend himself. He didn't even want to think about what his chances might be in this situation, but he promised himself to take at least one of them down with him.

When they ran off in another direction however, he wasn't quite certain whether that was a good thing or not. His doubts proved justified when he heard a young girl scream for help. Not hesitating a moment, he ran as fast as he could in an attempt to rescue the child.

XXX

Who were these freaks? What did they want from her? For the first time ever Jane was really afraid for her life. Not even Dawn's strange behavior had been this terrifying. Well, she admitted to herself, that might be because she didn't really believe Dawn would actually do anything to her. But these two...

Repeating her earlier action she shouted. "Help! Please, somebody help me!" Her father had taught her how to respond in situations like this, but she had a feeling none of his teachings were going to do any good. Running away had proven to be useless as they caught her within moments, and when she tried to kick them in the groin they caught her leg. She had wrestled it loose, but now she was pinned against a tree, an uncomfortable tree at that.

"Oh, listen to the little bloodbag screaming," one of the two men taunted, while looking her over in a way she didn't like. Getting looks from boys was fine, but from a couple of old perverts?

"What do you want from me?" Were they going to rape her? Kill her? What? With her heart firmly embedded in her throat she tried to think of a way to get out of there.

"Can you smell her fear?" This time it was the other man who spoke. "Isn't it the sweetest aroma you've ever scented?"

Great, what kind of freak was this? An aromaphile? For a moment her fear was forgotten as she tried to classify someone like the man in front of her, a fearophile? What was the Latin name for fear? She couldn't figure it out though, a terrorphile then? Something like a terrorist but one that got off on it? Nah, that didn't sound right. What then?

"Boo!"

"Aaahh!" She jumped back, or tried to at least, while the fear was once again coursing through her body. "Let me go please? I won't even go to the police or tell anyone about it, just let me go."

"See, I told you that'd get the fear back," the first man told the other, who looked a little disgruntled. "Now that we've got that lovely scent back can we eat?"

"Eat?" Jane squeaked, not believing her ears. Part of her, the one that represented the little twelve-year-old girl she was, was hoping that they planned on going for a burger. Unfortunately, the more rational part of her feared the consequences of those words. What if they weren't just aromaphiles, but cannibals as well? Maybe they planned to eat her?

"Yes, eat," she was told by the man, while his face suddenly transformed into that of some kind of horrible monster. Turning to the other she noticed his face looked similar to that of the other and she realized she really was in deep shit.

These creatures weren't human, but as she didn't want to find out what they were, she did something she had told herself she'd never do again. She let out a terrible shriek. In her opinion, a sound like that wasn't supposed to be uttered. Especially after she was told at the tender age of four that it was painful for those who heard it. But this was an emergency and she couldn't care less if it hurt them, she needed to get away from here.

The effect of the shriek however could only be described in terms of its incredible lack of any response. Either she had been better at it when she was four; her mother had lied about the effect; or they were immune to it. Not that it really mattered though; they were still going to eat her. Or, she realized as she noticed the fangs, drink her blood. Jane Nielson, died by vampire. Who would believe such a thing?

The two creatures were bending down to reach her neck now, and, like the Hollywood clichés they were, doing so slowly. Probably because they enjoyed her fear—damned aromaphiles.

Frantically she looked around for a way out, while mentally cursing herself for being close to paralyzed with fear. Was that the kind of rational behavior people'd expect from her? Was that the sort of thing the smart Jane would do? No, she'd have run by now. They were vampires, and despite their obvious advantages over her they were clearly her intellectual inferiors. Only one problem, she told herself, she had no clue what she could do against creatures like this.

Fortunately the answer was provided when one of the vampires suddenly sprouted a tree branch. Sprouted a tree branch? She had to blink before she realized that wasn't quite what had happened. There was indeed a branch sticking out of the vampire's chest, but it hadn't sprouted there. In the dim moonlight she could make out the shadow of a man who was holding the part that wasn't at her side of the vampire. Then, the vampire burst into ashes.

Swaying a little, but swearing to herself that she wouldn't faint, Jane tried to ignore this complete disregard for the laws of nature and looked at the other vampire. The vampire who had suddenly realized that he had lost his friend. Strangely enough though, it—she refused to think of it as a he—didn't really same fazed by it and only took a step back while brushing some non-existent lint from its clothes.

"I knew his overconfidence would be his doom. Poor Tom, killed by a mere human. I have a feeling someone upstairs is laughing about that." It stood there for a moment, its eyes going from her to her rescuer, before it suddenly moved. Closing the distance to her rescuer, with a speed that was abnormal, the vampire obviously tried to kill him.

Maybe he'd get killed by the branch as well, but while thinking that she suddenly noticed the man was no longer holding a branch. Had it turned to dust together with the vampire? But that was unrealistic, things like that couldn't really happen, could they?

Unrealistic or not, there didn't appear to be anything that might stop the vampire. Should she feel bad for causing the death of her rescuer? Especially when she'd probably be the next person to die? But luckily it didn't come to that. At the last possible moment the man pushed something in the face of the vampire, which caused it to back up screaming in pain. Good! Go mysterious rescue guy!

The guy had another branch! He'd probably kept it hidden or something, but now that the vampire was hurting he'd grabbed hold of it and... YES! He staked it! He staked it! This wonderful person had saved her from the evil vampires. Jane stopped herself then, she was a rational young woman, not some hero-worshipping little girl, and she would act like one.

By the time he turned to her, she had composed herself enough to answer him when he spoke. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thank you for saving me." There was something familiar about the voice, but she couldn't figure out what.

The man walked a little closer to her, and in the moonlight she could suddenly see his face. "I'm glad I got here in time." Oh... Well, it sure was a good thing she didn't go for the hero-worshipping thing. If she had, she might've been better of being killed by the vampires, because if there was one thing she didn't want to do it was to get between Dawn and the object of her crush. Okay, she had just been saved by Xander Harris someone whose description she had heard far too often over the past two months to mistake for anyone else and she had been saved from vampires.

A sudden horrifying suspicion started to worm its way into her heart. No, she wouldn't would she? Dawn would never hide something like that from them would she? If she knew about vampires she'd tell her friends. But the sudden change in her behavior... Oh yes, that girl had better have a damn good reason for lying to her.

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Post-fic comments: Next part on Thursday, and remember: reviewing is NOT a capital crime.

The Unicorn: First, thanks for the review. Now answers to your comments. The sewer practice, okay I have to admit I hadn't really thought of the sound thing there. I simply used the fact that in Noir, they always practiced in the sewers. I'll see what I can do to use that though (for obvious reasons Dawn won't be using the sewers in Sunnydale anyway). The gun on the other I had thought through, both the Glock 26 and 27 (the one she didn't choose) are subcompact guns. The only difference between the two is the size of the bullets (19mm vs .40). For more details you could check the Glock website. It is at the time this story plays probably one of, if not the, best subcompacts in production. Combined with the fact that it would be fairly easy for Dawn to get her hands on this made it the best choice for her gun, at least until she's a bit bigger. And the idea of the Glock 26 came from the fact that the creators of Noir thought about using it as Kirika's gun before they settled on the Beretta M1934, so I cheated a little there :-).