(Takes a deep breath) Wow, writing this chapter was FUN! Harder than I thought, but it gave me a good excuse to sit and watch Buffy episodes. Heh. Yet more thanks to everyone who has reviewed this little adventure so far, I never thought that it would be so popular. As you can seem this chapter is a little long. That's because I thought that cutting it in half would leave it rather unbalanced. So I kept writing... and writing... and writing... Oh yes and one more thing. (Hands Suzuka Blade a Jedi Xander e-plushie.) Sorry for the delay, and what a great idea!


The suit was a little baggy around the waist and Xander scowled as he tightened the belt another notch. All the training that he had been doing had given him bulges in some places and gaps in others, one being around his waist. On the one hand he was in excellent physical condition, so much so that Giles had winced when the two had shaken hands that morning. On the other he was going to have to either buy a lot more clothes or gain weight again. Seemed rather strange.

He looked into the mirror one last time and straightened his tie, or rather his Uncle Will's tie. It was reasonably sober and matched the white shirt that Giles had brought up with him from Sunnydale, along with his suit and shoes, neither of which he had worn since Christmas. He hated suits, they made him look like an undertaker. But now, looking at his reflection, he worried that perhaps he needed to take suits more seriously, like the way that he was taking life more seriously. It wasn't every day that you met a bishop.

Or rather, as Giles had pointed out, a bishop without portfolio, a globetrotting emissary of the guy in the white skullcap from Rome. Whom Giles had gone to university with some 20-odd years before. The Bishop that is, not the Pope.

Xander dusted off his shoes and then hurried out of the room. Giles was standing in the lounge, looking out of the window at the desert beyond. Hearing Xander's footsteps he half-turned. "Ah, Xander. Well done, very smart." Turning back to the window he took off his glasses and gestured at the view. "Quite beautiful, in, in a bleak sort of way. And the perfect place for training. You were right, this was the ideal spot. Out of the way and with the kind of terrain ideal for honing the muscles, as it were. And," he popped his glasses back on and looked at Xander again, "The mind, I might add. Your abilities were well suited for the recovery of this lovely thing."

This time the gesture was in the direction of the Cross of the Trinity, which stood on a piece of cloth on the sideboard. The previous day Xander had given it a good polish and now it gleamed for the first time in 300 years.

"Giles," complained Xander plaintively, "Why couldn't we have just dumped the thing in a church and have done with it? All this is making me uneasy. Jedi – even pseudo-Jedi – don't do the whole public thanks thing."

The older man smiled and shook his head. "I hardly think that this is a public ceremony, Xander, more in the way of a quiet meeting on the edge of the desert. A priest of a small church wouldn't have known what to do with such a holy object and it might very well have been stolen again. No, this is a much better way. The Watcher's Council and the Vatican have had semi- formal contact since the Dark Ages, although there was that nasty little rift caused by the Reformation.

"The Catholic Church has been looking for the Cross of the Trinity for some time, and indeed it was feared lost a century ago. Alfredo Camillo and I have been friends for a long time and I trust him to get the Cross back to safety in Rome."

He paused and wandered over to the book that Doyle had left. Picking it up he scowled down at it. "I have my suspicions about this, Xander. About why it was stolen and who employed those demons to find it again. Very dark suspicions."

The faint sound of a car approaching could be heard and he looked up again. "Ah. Punctual as always."


Don Alfredo Camillo turned out to be short, thin, humourous and positively bursting with emotion at the sight of the Cross. He was accompanied by a tall blond man wearing sunglasses and a look of intense concentration. From the bulge under his left armpit the blond guy was armed and from the bottle of what could only be holy water protruding from his pocket, he knew about things that went bump, or rather 'grr', in the night. Both, Xander could tell from the force, were good guys. In fact Camillo gleamed with the light side.

Camillo had exchanged pleasantries with Giles before fixing Xander with what appeared to be a 10,000-volt charged stare that assessed him, before turning into a twinkle. Then he turned to Giles and muttered something that Xander could barely catch, something about the man being younger than he looked, before swinging back and shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Rupert here has told me much about what you did. Although," he glanced back at the Watcher, "Not in as much detail as I might have wished. You always were the secretive one, eh, Rupert? But thank God you turned away from the darker parts of yourself. The Church owes you a great debt, Mr Harris, a great debt."

Rather startled at being called Mr Harris, a title he associated with his father, Xander did the only thing that came to him. He returned the handshake and formally bowed, like any good Jedi.

Camillo's eyebrows went up and then he twinkled again at Xander.

"If Rupert has been training you to be a Watcher, then I can only say that he has done well. The recovery of the Cross has long been thought impossible. In fact it was thought melted down and lost. But now it has been found and..." He looked over to the blond hulk in the corner of the room who walked forward, holding a small briefcase that Xander hadn't noticed. Lifting it up the bodyguard – or whatever the hell he was – opened it and held it out. Camillo reached out and picked up a small green box, which he opened. Inside was a small silver crucifix of exquisite workmanship. Camillo picked it up and held it out.

"His Holiness asked me to give this to you, with his thanks. It is only a small token of our gratitude, but it should allow you to repel the... um... more unpleasant inhabitants of your town."

Shocked for the first time in months Xander looked at Camillo and then at Giles, who nodded with a small smile on his face.

Camillo caught this and twinkled yet again. "Mr Harris, the Slayer and her friends are never alone. We know what you do. Many would disbelieve, but some of us have seen the things that hunt in the night."

Clearing his throat Xander nodded. "Thank you," he said and picked up the crucifix. It was a lovely little thing.

Camillo nodded in satisfaction. Then he gestured at the Cross and the bodyguard walked over and picked it up effortlessly. Turning, Camillo shook hands again with Xander and then kissed Giles on both cheeks, something that the normally very formal Englishman seemed to take in his stride. "I will tell Maria that I have seen you," the small clergyman said to the Watcher. "My sister often asks after you. She will be pleased that you are well."

Was that the faintest hint of a blush Xander could see on the Watcher's cheeks? Giles smiled fondly, asked to be remembered to Maria, and then the two guests were gone. "Maria?" asked Xander as they watched the car drive off to a private airfield for the trip back to Rome.

Giles coughed. "Yes, well, I wasn't always middle-aged, Xander. Very lithesome she was."

"I so do not want to hear that."

They walked back into the house, Xander loosening his tie as he did so. Looking down at the crucifix he marveled again at the workmanship.

"I believe it's from the 17th Century," said Giles, smiling. "And quite valuable. Useful, too. So, Xander, have you finished your training yet? The ability to take down a wraith is, is quite impressive."

Sighing, Xander sat down. "Yes and no, Giles. I've gone as far as I can but there are some things that I just can't finish off. I can go all Jedi-like, but it just feels... incomplete. I've gone a long way though. And..." he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the pouch. "I need some help again here."

With that he emptied the contents onto the table. The gems spilled out, winking and gleaming in the light. Then there was the melodious clunk as the sapphire skittered out. Giles gaped. Then he closed his mouth and tilted his head. "Yes... um, well," he muttered, "Sorry, you need my help how?"

"This load of rocks was in the bag that held the Cross. I think that our merry Spanish brothers had been naughty even before they stole it. So now I need to... well, get rid of them. Apart from the sapphire."

"Pardon me for being obvious, Xander, but why not just sell them? And why not the sapphire – it seems to be worth a great deal of money. In fact, there's a substantial amount of money here."

Xander picked up the sapphire and bounced it thoughtfully on the palm of his hand. "The sapphire... I have a ludicrously optimistic plan for this thing. Probably never come off, but hey, if you don't try you don't get. As for the gems... I really don't think I need money at the moment. Oh it might be nice but... it seems wrong somehow. I don't believe I just said that, but what's one more wacky statement worth these days? No, if I can pass them on somewhere where they can do some good... and I can't believe that I said that either. It would just seem..." he visibly struggled to find the right word, "Wrong."

Giles directed a long and very level look at him. Then he sat down and polished his glasses again. When he glanced up again he smiled. "You have come a very long way in a very short time, Xander. I will confess that I doubted if you would progress even half as far as you have so far, and you seem set to, to continue to surprise me. If you were my son I would be extremely proud of you.

"That is to not to say that your family should be left out of this windfall. If I might make a suggestion, sell the gems, give half the money to charity and the other half to your family. Although I believe that your father got an apparently long-overdue promotion this month, primarily I believe because he thinks that he needs to measure up to what you have achieved so far, I think that a little additional money would come in very handy. It has been my experience that life can be deeply unpredictable at times and a financial cushion for your loved ones can sometimes be surprisingly beneficial. Set up a bank account with a decent rate of interest in your mother's name. As a Jedi I know that lying isn't exactly your cup of tea, but I'm not a Jedi and I can make up something suitably... plausible on your behalf."

Xander paused to mull this over. It fitted together. Money for the family and money to do good. He nodded slowly. "Okay. But make sure that my Uncle Rory doesn't find out about it will you? He'd spend it all on peach schnapps, fast cars and hookers."

"Of course," replied the Watcher. "Although this presumes that you are able to sell the gems easily. I don't know of any easy... um, legitimate way that doesn't involve proof of ownership. And you can hardly say that you retrieved them from the bodies of two Spanish hidalgos who murdered each other in the desert in 1694, can you?

"Plus, I might also add that you are due back in High School in two days' time."

This gave Xander a shock. Had the summer gone that quickly? He cast his mind back and winced. Yes it had. Which meant that he had essentially not a lot of time left, especially as Uncle Will was due back tomorrow. Nuts.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Well, it was a good summer. Much Jedi-inspired training, with inadvertent demony interventions." He looked down at the gems again. Right then. He need to get rid them by illicit means. Well, not exactly illicit, just on that fine dividing line between legality and the murkier depths that lay just in front of illegality.

He grinned. He knew just the person. "Giles, I need a ride to the bus depot."


Bob was hungry. He was also desperate. This was not a good. A hungry, desperate, Bob often took chances in his quest to get a good meal. In the past that had once led to a rampaging lynch mob in New York, a lynch mob that he had barely escaped. Bad things happened when he was hungry and desperate.

The sun had gone down just under an hour ago and his favourite hunting street was almost deserted. It tended to fill up by about 11pm, when a victim could be pulled off the street without anyone noticing but that was hours away and the hunger for some warm blood was just too much to resist.

The street wasn't totally deserted though and Bob found himself wandering behind two men as they strolled down along the sidewalk, laughing at a joke the older one, who seemed to be Irish, was telling. The joke also involved a lot of waving of hands and what appeared to be silly voices. Looking ahead he could see that a streetlight had broken close to an alleyway, leaving a deep pool of shadow. Perfect. Walk closer, bang the human's heads together, drag them into the alleyway and drain all the blood from their bodies. He almost smacked his lips in anticipation.

As they approached the shadows he started to lengthen his stride, morphing into his vampiric face and reaching out with his hands, keen to hear the crack of bone on bone...

They entered the shadows and the wheels fell off his plan straight away. For one thing the Irish guy suddenly turned on his heel, his face transforming as it suddenly grew lots of blue spines. The other, younger, 'victim' moved faster than his eyes could follow, diving off to one side, twisting as he rolled almost in mid air, his arm coming around to thump into Bob's chest.

There was a sharp pain and Bob looked down to see a wooden stake protruding from his chest. "Oh, shi..."


Xander looked at the cloud of rapidly disappearing dust and shook his head. "What a loser," he muttered. "I felt him coming a hundred yards away."

Doyle shook his face back into human mode and looked at him quizzedly. "You never told me how you can feel demons and vampires from a distance," he said.

"Lots of practice and you would so not believe the story of my life," replied Xander with a grim smile. "I'll tell you when you have a few hours to spare."

"Ah, sounds like an epic."

"Trust me, it is. Hellmouths, spells, and all the fun of the fair. Not."

The half Brachen demon nodded slowly and the two walked on. Xander's arrival had come as somewhat of a surprise, but Doyle had listened gravely to his request for advice on getting rid of some... property. Which, when he had asked what and Xander had spilled the gems onto his hand, begged the question: "Holy Mother of God, where d'ya get those beauties from?"

Xander had told him. When Doyle had stopped boggling in disbelief, not to mention staring at a man who could take down a wraith, he mentioned that he just happened to know of a man – sorry, demon – who owned a gem smiths shop not too far away. More importantly he didn't ask awkward questions and he kept his mouth shut. Come to think of it, Doyle thought, he couldn't remember the old demon stringing more than a dozen words together, which had kicked in his own ability to babble every time a pause in the conversation came up.

Now they were almost there, and Xander kept looking around with a distracted air.


Xander could feel Buffy on his Slayer-scope. She wasn't close, but he could feel her presence in a northwest sort of direction. She felt... directionless. Lost. Grieving. And dangerously apathetic, like an old watch that had not been wound, although that was not a metaphor that he intended to say out loud any time soon.

The problem was that, well, he was getting a lot of interference, as it were. LA was not a nice place. Although there were areas where the light side held sway there were also patches dominated by the dark side, great horrible sewers of darkness. His bus had driven past one of these places – a large building, with a terraced effect to its front and big glass windows. He hadn't been able to catch what the sign outside it had said, but the place was stinking with the dark side.

And there had been other places, some almost as bad, some just odd and twisted. He was getting a very strange reading from the force from one spot in the same rough direction as Buffy. It was as if there was a hole in the world that lead down to a pit full of... of... he wasn't sure but it stank of pain and sweat and blood. It was a little bit like the feeling he'd had when Acathla had been activated, but far smaller and very confined.

The net effect of this skanky darkness was that he couldn't locate Buffy exactly. Not without traveling around LA more and trying to home in on her, but he had no idea how long that would take. He was frustrated by this, but there was nothing he could do.

As they came to a small shop that had a faint light glowing inside Doyle stopped and jerked his finger at it. "There ya go. Thorne's. Just tell him what you need."

Xander looked up. "You're not going in with me?"

"Nah, you don't need my help for this. Besides the guy gives me a creepy feeling. Not creepy-bad, he's just a man of few words and whatever I do, I put both my feet in my mouth every time I open it whenever he's around. And when I babble, he deploys these long terrible silences. He's almost as bad as Father Stone back home. Terrible man that priest is. No, I'm just going to skulk out here while you do some dealing in there."

Nodding and keeping a straight face at the thought of Doyle skulking, Xander walked up to the door of the building and, pushing it open, walked in. It was a little gloomy inside, with glass-topped cases along three sides of what was a largish room. However, whatever was in the cases beneath the glass was hidden from view by an odd, smoky, darkness. Obviously a spell to discourage thieves, thought Xander as he walked up to the longest case, behind which was a door.

As he approached there was a low chime from somewhere above him. He heard a scuff of feet and the door opened to reveal a medium-sized figure in a suit that had obviously seen far better days. Huddled within said suit was something that looked human-ish but wasn't. For one thing, humans didn't have an eye in the centre of their foreheads and for another their ears didn't twitch madly at the slightest sound. Xander couldn't detect much from using the force. A little good, a little evil and a little... irritability? He looked old, possibly freeze-dried, and was directing a long slow stare at Xander. He also wasn't blinking.

"Can I help you? I am Thorne."

Xander pulled out the little bag and placed it on the counter. Opening it he carefully poured the contents onto the glass. "You came recommended," he said evenly, "As someone who could help me get a good price for these."

The old demon pursed his lips slightly as he considered the gems. Then he pulled out a jeweler's magnifying glass, put it in front of his third eye, somehow scrunched his forehead up to hold it in place and inspected the gems minutely.

"Yes," he said eventually, straightening up and removing the object from his eye. "Very nice. I can make you a good offer on these. Would you mind if I asked you where you got them from? It's just that in my line of business you have to be very careful, and although I can't detect a curse on them, it would be necessary to make sure."

Detecting nothing but curiosity from Thorne, Xander nodded. "I got them from a cave. They'd been there for several centuries. A wraith was guarding the place, but it's gone now."

Thorne narrowed his eyes and directed another searching gaze at him. "A wraith is a very evil thing, Mr?"

"Harris. Xander Harris."

"Hm. Mr Harris. But there seems to have been no taint from it." He paused, pulled out a pad and pen, scribbled something on it and passed the pad over. Xander had to embrace the force there and then so as not to react, as the pad had a price on it that made his cash-starved Harris side cackle insanely. His Jedi side smiled quietly at the thought of what half of that could achieve for the list of charities that Giles had pulled together.

Nodding he passed the pad over. "Oh and there's something else. Do you facet gems?"

Thorne looked surprised at this. "Yes," he replied. "What do you wish me to do?"

Putting his hand into his pocket Xander pulled out the sapphire, which winked softly in the dim light.

The old demon leant forward and looked at it with professional delight. "A quite lovely gemstone. Yet you wish me to facet it?"

Xander's hand went into his other pocket and he pulled out a drawing, which he spread on the counter. It was of the sapphire, but with some small changes. Angles and degrees were carefully noted in one corner of the piece of paper, along with a notation that everything had to be exact, to within very tight specifications.

Frowning with concentration Thorne bent over the drawing, before, with an upraised eyebrow to ask permission, comparing it to the sapphire.

Finally he straightened up. "Fascinating," he muttered. "Yes, I can do this. It will require very high standards of precision. A challenge."

Xander let out a small sigh of relief. Then he looked at the old demon again. "How much will it cost? And how long will it take?"

He received a wave of the hand in response as the gem smith thought deeply. "Normally I charge for faceting, but this is a challenge that intrigues me. I have not been set a truly high standard for many decades, as the degree of precision here calls for. Um... my only charge for this is to be allowed to keep the chips from the faceting process. And it will take... um... two days. Forty-eight hours to be precise. I will be able to sell your other gems on at the same time."

They shook hands to clinch the deal and then Xander left. The guy was a little creepy, but he reminded him of Giles, once he had his teeth into a research problem. Not obsessive, but pretty damn close.

"Okay," he said, approaching Doyle, who was leaning against a lamppost and whistling an odd tune. "Guy says two days to do everything. Time for me to pack up and move on home."


When Xander's father drew up to the house the next afternoon, Xander blinked at the sight of the man. Tony Harris had lost yet more weight and looked... like he had ten years ago, before he had let himself go rather badly. He had also shaved that morning, something he tended to do rather infrequently sometimes. Tony did some blinking of his own when he saw Xander. The boy had developed some muscles and had a look about him that spoke of a newfound maturity. Will had mentioned the fact that Xander was keeping fit at the place when they had talked on the telephone that morning. He hadn't expected Xander to be that fit though.

Tossing his stuff in the car, Xander said goodbye to Will, who had turned up that morning and had been pleasantly surprised at the fact that the house was both still standing and actually tidy.

His father had never been much for conversations whilst driving, but on the trip back to Sunnydale he had made the effort, talking about what the summer had been like, about how Xander's mom had been, how she had finally got Rory off the peach schnapps and onto beer instead and how he'd finally got that promotion at the store. Xander had beamed at him, happy that his father was feeling much happier and the miles had rolled by effortlessly.

Xander was even more surprised when they got back home. His mother had also lost weight and the faint listlessness about his parents had gone. He did not want to speculate how they had reignited their marriage. The thought made him want to make 'ewww' noises and shudder.

He had changed into some more formal clothing at their request and then all three had gone to a nearby restaurant to celebrate his father's promotion. It was a small Italian place, not very expensive but at the same time not dirt cheap, like the last place they'd had a meal the previous year, which had served rubbery spaghetti and meatballs that could have been used to take down demons.

It had been thoroughly unnerving and not at all Harris-family-like. But Xander felt happy about being unnerved in that way.

Normal Hellmouth service had kicked in when they got back home. Xander quietly retrieved Aquila from his wardrobe, announced that he was off to see Willow and slipped out of the door.

Finding his bestest bud was easy, as he stretched out with the force. She and Oz were sitting in a cemetery on the junction of Third and Macarthur. Not the most romantic of places, mused Xander, until he also sensed Giles there. Damn, he thought, they're waiting for a fledgling to make an appearance, I'll bet. He loosened Aquila in its sheath and quickened his walk.


Willow hit the ground hard enough to see stars and kicked out madly. The vampire that had been about to leap on her clutched at a vital piece of his anatomy and screamed loudly, before looking up and knocking the approaching Oz over two headstones with a negligent backhand. Then it looked around and glared, weeping highly pained tears of agony.

This was so not good, thought Willow desperately. Giles was still cross- eyed from being punched in the face earlier on and had been thrown somewhere, while her plan to taunt the grry one with a Buffy-like comment had not come out right at all. What sounded right for the Slayer came out sounding a little goofy for the redhead. Oz was doing his best, but her honey was not exactly Arnold Schwarzennegger, dearly though she loved him. Grabbing the stake by her hand she struggled to her feet and stabbed the hunched vampire in the chest. However, instead of exploding into dust, it just let out another angry swearword. She'd missed the heart. Not good, she thought, so not good.

The vampire plucked the stake from its chest, threw it to one side and hissed at her, its right arm coming back to deliver what would probably be the killer blow and Willow fell backwards over her feet, letting out a fearful squeak and then...

Something swished through the air and suddenly the vampire was just standing there, gaping at her. Then it's head fell off its body and the whole thing dissolved into dust. Standing behind it was Xander, holding that sword of his in a combat-type kind of pose. He looked tanned and very muscley. Smiling a quiet smile he leant down and held his arm out for her to use to lever herself back upright.

"Xander!" she squeaked and her oldest friend winced slightly.

"Wills, I think there's a bat near Pasadena that didn't hear you. Please don't squeak like that, it's painful."

"I'm sorry," she babbled, "But Xander! It's you! And you're all muscley! You went off to the desert and now you're back and what was it like, was it all Dagobah-y? Have you done the whole training and floaty-rock stuff?"

Xander smiled fondly at her and then walked over to help Oz up. "I told you that e-string was gonna break," the werewolf said dazedly and then he shook his head to clear it. "Hey," he finally said in greeting, blinking at the sight of Xander.

"Hey," replied Xander. "And..." he used the force to summon the stake that Willow had been using to his hand. "Yes, Wills. It worked. I'm not a full Jedi yet, but I'm more than a Padawan."

"Cool," said Oz. There was a rustle behind them and Giles fell out of a bush clutching a crossbow with a broken bolt in it.

"Don't bother helping me up," the Watcher said caustically, "I get thrown into bushes by angry vampires all the time, it's a doddle." Then he blinked as Xander approached, reaching out with the force to make sure that he was not seriously hurt. "Ah, Xander. Good to see that you made it back alright. Were, were you successful?"

Xander grasped the Watcher's forearm and pulled him upright with very little effort. "Yup," he confirmed. "I'll have to be back in LA tomorrow night to pick it up." He looked back at Willow, who was brushing bits of moss and grass off her boyfriend. "So tell me, what's been happening in the land of Sunnydale while I was off in desert-Dagobah?"

Willow took a deep breath and started to talk at nineteen times to the dozen as they wandered out of the cemetery, Yup, thought Xander, some things don't change.


A day later he was having the same thoughts as he walked down the same street as before in Los Angles with Doyle again. Didn't we just do this, he thought wryly. Life was being kooky again, as Willow would say. After a day back at school, during which he was glared at by Snyder and gaped at by Cordelia and Larry ("When the hell did Harris do over the summer to get muscles?" seemed to be the topic on many people's lips) he was busy reflecting on how weird life was. He was an almost-Jedi, living on the mouth of hell, where his best friend was a witch, her boyfriend was a werewolf and they helped the Vampire Slayer to save the world on a regular basis. And attend high school. What a combination.

They continued to wander, Doyle telling a rather interesting story about his cousin Theresa and a Welshman she once went out with. After a while, when they had both finished laughing, Doyle looked around. "Man, this is dull," he said. "You should have told me that he's said forty-eight hours to do the job. He means exactly that length of time. If we turn up now, then all he'll do is ignore us until he's finished."

He paused and looked around again at the street sign. "Hang on a second. There's a place around here I've heard of. Demon bar that welcomes humans. I've never been there before, but I've heard it's good. I can have a beer, you can have something non-alcoholic as you're a minor and you can stop disguising that sword you're carrying."

Looking down at Aquila, which was heavily disguised inside an umbrella, Xander sighed, He still wasn't sure why he had brought his sword. He had just been getting ready to get to the bus station when he had automatically picked it up and stuffed it inside an old golfing umbrella that had seen better days. He just had had this feeling that it would be needed. But he didn't know where in the name of the force that feeling had come from.

They wandered down a side street, crossed a main road, went down another side street and finally came to a set of stairs leading down into a building. By the hum of conversation and the sound of people singing, the joint was rocking. Xander looked up at the sign as they went in. Caritas. Wasn't that Latin? He shrugged.

The first thing that he saw when they entered the bar was a demon. In fact the second, third and fourth things he saw were demons. Plus humans and the odd vampire, all milling around, talking, drinking and watching the stage where something blue and fluffy was singing a surprisingly good version of Sting's "Fields of gold". Xander boggled. Something green appeared out of the corner of his eye and he turned to see a green-skinned demon, with small red horns protruding from his forehead and dressed in what had to be a razor sharp powder blue suit, wander over to them.

"Hi," said this apparition. "Sorry, but you're going to have to check your sword at the bar, sweet cheeks. Not that you can use against anyone in here, but we had this Vorolas demon in here a month ago with his broadsword and man! the juice that flew around when he sliced up the food he'd brought! Took me an age to get it out of my tie."

"Okay," said Xander and walked over to the bar, where a very competent looking man exchanged Aquila for a small ticket with a number on it. When he walked back he discovered Doyle deep in conversation with the demon. As he approached, blue and fluffy finished the song, to a great deal of applause. The demon looked up at the stage. "Sorry, but I've got to go," he said. "Beryl's waiting for her prediction and she gets awfully testy when she's kept waiting. Toodles!" And he went off to confer with the thing.

Doyle pointed to a free table and the pair sat down. "This place," the half- Brachen demon said, "Is something else ain't it? I was just talking to The Host over there, the green guy. He was telling me that no violence is allowed in here thanks to a spell. Very civilised. I've been to bars that resembled war zones by the end of the night." He looked at the bar and caught the eye of one of the waitresses, who shimmied over. "A Bud and an orange juice," he ordered, after asking Xander what he wanted to drink. Then he went on: "The Host was saying that they get all sorts singing up there."

"A demon bar that's also a karaoke bar," mused Xander. "Interesting, in an totally insane way."

"You haven't heard the last of it," smiled Doyle, grabbing his beer as the waitress returned to their table with the drinks. "The Host is... well, he sees and hears you sing and he can see your future, they say. Not in full technicolour detail, but enough for you to know something about it."

Fascinated, Xander looked over at the stage. The blue thing had vanished and The Host was watching something with far too many eyes for comfort inflict grievous bodily harm on "I will always love you". By the way that he kept wincing at the duff notes he was not enjoying the process but he kept looking at the singer.

Xander had not experimented yet with using the force to explore the past or the future. It was a dangerous thing to do as you could get the wrong end of the stick entirely if you lacked the correct context to interpret the vision. A good example was what had happened to Buffy the previous year. Convinced that to stop the Master from getting free and killing her, she had gone to stop him by confronting him in his prison. However, by defeating and (temporarily) killing her, the Master was able to gain enough strength to break free of his prison. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. He suspected that he was going to need a great deal of time and practice to get the hang of the whole looking-through-time thing. For someone else to do the analysis though... this was interesting.

The Host was now talking to the multi-eyed thing, while the stage was empty. Doyle noticed Xander staring at the stage, followed his look and took a contemplative swig of beer. "Ah, what the hell," he muttered and stood up. "My ex-wife had her faults but even she said I could sing." Grinning at Xander he walked up onto the stage, picked up the microphone and had a whispered conversation with the Host, who seemed to be answering a question.

"Okay, folks, we have a first-timer here tonight! So please give a great Caritas welcome to Doyle, who's going to sing an old favourite of mine!" exclaimed the Host and walked off the stage.

Doyle put his shoulders back, said something off the microphone. As the music kicked in he started to sing U2's "With or without you" – and Host stiffened slightly and watched him intently.

When Doyle finished what was an extremely good rendition of the song the Host beckoned him to one side, and then spoke to him in a quiet corner for some time. When they were finished Doyle walked slowly back to the table. He was very pale. He was also very thoughtful. "Time to stand up and be counted," he muttered and downed the rest of his beer. Then he looked up at Xander. "I think I just chose a side. To fight for the light." But he refused to answer Xander's questions after that, saying simply that the Host had seen something that he was not going to run away from.

Looking worriedly at Doyle, Xander glanced back at the stage. Judging from what Doyle had said, he had been given a glimpse of the future. Did he want to risk seeing his own? Did he even have one, what with living on the Hellmouth? And what in the name of merciful heaven could he sing?

He mulled it over. Music was something he loved, but he wondered what was appropriate now for an almost-Jedi. He paused and then looked over to Doyle, who was starting his second bottle of beer.

"How do you choose the music?" he asked. "I mean what if the song you want isn't on the system?"

"There isn't one," replied Doyle absently, his eyes far away on something that he couldn't quite see. "You just say the name of the song and the singer or band and some spell kicks in and starts to play it."

"Ooookay," muttered Xander, making his mind up. "Let's do this." Standing and walking up to the side of the stage he attracted the Host's attention. The green-skinned demon walked over. "You going to sing?" he asked.

Xander nodded.

"Okay kid. What's your name?"

"Xander. Short version of Alexander."

"Cute. Very Greek. Okay Xanderoony, you're up. Just say the name of the song and the author when you're up there and then heigh-ho Silver!"

As the Host introduced him, Xander stood deep in thought. He had a song in mind that was... highly appropriate. Looking up he said quietly: "Secret World. By Peter Gabriel," and then listened as the music started. When his cue arrived he started to sing.

When he finished the bar gave him a more than decent round of applause, with even Doyle, who seemed to have recovered from his thoughtful mood, standing up and cheering. As he stepped down he glanced at the Host. To his shock the demon was pale green, was visibly shaking and had a hand clutched to the side of his head. He jerked his head in the direction of a private room off to one side and Xander followed him.

When they were both in what appeared to be a private office the Host closed the door and sagged against it. Then he forced himself upright and staggered over to the desk, where he poured himself a very stiff drink from a drinks cabinet that stood next to it.

"Wow," he said weakly. "Where the hell did you get all that stuffed in your head? I mean damn! George Lucas is going to be just pissed that someone has ridden a horse and cart through his copyright. I've never had a Jedi Knight sing here before. Hell, I've never had a Jedi Knight in here period."

He threw half a glass of something blue down his throat, coughed briefly and then pulled out two pieces of paper, an envelope and a pen. Writing swiftly he scrawled something down on each piece of paper, placed one in the envelope, sealed it, wrote on that too and then stood up and walked over to Xander.

"Okay, Kenobi-kins, and yes I saw that too, there isn't much time so I'm going to give you the short and snappy version. Trust yourself, and don't even think of making any links between Yoda and me. I'm taller, much better looking, a lot younger and my grammar isn't all jumbled up. You're going to have a lot to deal with over the next few years. Padawans for a start. One will be easy to train and the other is going to be halfway down the road to the dark side before you even start. But train them you will. Don't worry about it. Don't forget, you are NOT Kenobi. You're Xander and you've already seen the perils of the dark side. Remember that and they won't go all tall black and lurky, not to mention that terrible breathing problem.

"Two more things. First, take this." The Host handed over an envelope. The date "10pm 2nd October" was written on the front. "Open it on that date next month. Not before. Don't ask me why, my vision's are never normally that time-specific. Why this one is, I don't know. Gave me a hell of a headache. Final thing. There's a friend of yours here in LA. A Slayer. Very troubled little blond bombshell. Tonight she's going to be in trouble a long way from here. Not quite in a galaxy far, far away, but in a hell dimension. You need to be there if she's going to get out. You'll find her in a homeless shelter two miles away. She met someone yesterday who is not what he appears to be. Here's the address." And he handed over the second piece of paper. "You need to get going. Good luck, good-looking. And may the force be with you."


Xander exploded out of the office, grabbed Doyle, retrieved Aquila and shot out of Caritas quickly, looking at the piece of paper. Then he turned to face Doyle, who was looking confused and still clutching his bottle of beer. "We need to go to this place. Right now," he said, trusting the paper at Doyle, who took it with a frown.

"This place is a few miles away," he said, confused. "Xander, what's going on?"

"Friend of mine is in trouble, according the Host back there. The Slayer to be exact."

Doyle choked on his beer and stared at Xander. "The Slayer's in LA? And she's in trouble? End of the world trouble?"

"No, just ordinary demony trouble. Which way?"

Doyle pointed. "That way. Worth running?"

Xander nodded. "That or a very fast saunter."

As they hurried up the road Xander reached out with the force to get a reading on Buffy. She felt... different. The apathetic air of hopelessness had shifted slightly. Oh the sadness was still there, but there was a certain determination about her that said a great deal. She was also irritated and... off to one side? He could feel her more exactly now as they were obviously approaching her and he wondered what to say if they met. 'Hi, sorry you stabbed your lover through the chest to stop the end of the world, but we need you back in Sunnydale' seemed massively inadequate.

Breaking into a jog-trot they rushed on. Doyle was panting with exertion now, but Xander was still fresh. Running through LA was easy compared to the desert. Slowing down to cross a major intersection they turned a corner and ran on.

The closer they got to the address the more Xander was certain that they were approaching the place where he had felt that odd dark side vibe two days before, the one where it felt as if there was a hole in the world. Given the Host's comments back there he would lay good odds that the vibe was coming from a portal to a hell dimension. Damn demons, always messing with the whole space-time continuum. Why not just install a revolving door?

He noticed something else as they went along. Every now and then they would pass alleyways where huddled figures were sleeping, or trying to sleep. Other pathetic figures were wandering the streets. All were old and broken down. All felt... lost, as if all the life had been drained out of them. And many were muttering: "I'm no-one... no-one..." It was too much of a coincidence. There had to be a connection between the people and the place.

When the building came into sight they stopped for a moment to look for the front door. "Right," said Xander, reaching out with the force, "Four humans, no, five. And a demon." He pulled a face. "Yeuch, quite a nasty one. Very driven. Very ruthless."

He turned to see Doyle staring at him. Okay, he owed the guy the truth. "Long story. Short version is: chaos mage, enchanted costumes, Halloween, possession, Obi-Wan Kenobi costume, Jedi Knight on the Hellmouth, me. Got that?"

"Not really, but I think I understand," said a shocked Doyle. Xander grinned and then looked to one side. Fifty yards away a small blond woman was walking up to the door of the homeless shelter. She looked very irritated. Knocking on the door she waited until it opened, said something to the man behind it, did not receive the right answer and then kicked it open.

"There she is," he breathed. Doyle did his second double take in as many minutes.

"That's the Slayer? She's tiny!" he said as Buffy vanished into the building.

"Size matters not," replied Xander. "She could break down that wall if she wanted to. I think she wants to as well. Follow me." He unsheathed Aquila and tossed the scabbard to Doyle.

As they approached the door, Xander could see the man who had talked to Buffy staggering back to his feet. His nose was bleeding and his eyes were crossed. He also stank of standard, every-day evil. As he stood all the way up Xander stepped through the door, swung his fist and knocked him unconscious again.

Buffy had obviously laid her own unique trail of destruction in the seconds that she had been in the place, because the door in front of them was also hanging off its hinges and two more men were sprawled on the floor with various contusions. Yup, the Slayer was being tetchy. The hole in the world was very close now, maybe in the next room. This close it felt vile, like a sinkhole leading to somewhere dark and terrible. Sweaty too, for some reason.

He looked up as he heard raised voices and then suddenly one of the humans he could feel in the building – a good one, an innocent – vanished. Not dead, just no longer there. Cursing Xander hurried on, Doyle following with a baseball bat that he had picked up off one of the guards. They could hear the sound of a scuffle and then as they burst into a room they saw Buffy and a dark-haired man who wasn't a man, but rather the ruthless demon that Xander had detected earlier, struggling together as they fell into what looked like a pool filled with black oil... and vanished.

"I'm guessing that's not water," muttered Doyle behind him.

"Portal," said Xander. "There's a hell dimension down there." He looked around swiftly, using the force to probe the building. "Okay, there's just those sleeping beauties out there in this place. Tie them up or hit them again if they wake up. Keep everyone away from this thing. I'm going in to help Buffy."

"Are you out of your mind? There's a hell dimension down there!" objected Doyle.

Xander looked at him and grinned. "She'd do the same for me. And as a Jedi it's my duty to stand into harms way if it means protecting someone. See you later."

Embracing the force fully he stepped to the lip of the pool and jumped in.

The transition between the dimensions was short and swift and it was like falling through water. Beneath the surface was a large room and Xander used the force to slow his descent a little before landing and moving into a defensive pose. This was freaky. The room should have held Buffy, the demon and the human who had gone through. Instead it was empty, except for a smear of something on the concrete floor. He jabbed experimentally with his finger and felt what appeared to be glue. Hum. Interesting.

The force felt a little odd down here, but he was still able access it. Reaching out he located Buffy. Okay, freaky 2. She was several hundred metres away. Along with... he winced. There were around a hundred people here, all exhausted, all drained of hope. And some were drained of more than that, they felt... empty. Like the street people from earlier.

He frowned, remembering a random comment that Giles had once made about the fact that time often ran differently in separate dimensions when compared to Earth. That might explain the absence of Buffy when he had dropped in. Mere seconds on earth could be minutes or hours on Earth.

People were being brought here... for what? There were also a lot of demons. Yuck. This lot were hard, merciless and very cruel. And two of them were approaching the room. Gripping Aquila in both hands he moved to the doorway on the far wall and waited. A moment later two red-skinned demons with slashes on their faces and dressed in black leather walked in and stared up at the portal. "What came through?" the one on the right asked. When his companion gave a surprised grunt in response, the demon turned to look at him. He was staring down at the sword that was protruding through his chest. Then it vanished and Xander stepped out from behind the collapsing demon and lopped the surviving one's head off.

Checking to see that no-one had heard the small fracas Xander glanced cautiously out of the door and then moved smoothly down the corridor. It was getting increasingly noisy and he turned a corner to come to a railing over looking some sort of huge room. He looked out into a vision of industrial hell. The place seemed to be a huge foundry, with chains leading to pulleys running from the floor to the ceiling. Huge machines spat glittering sparks everywhere as they cut, hammered and melted metal, fed by the staggering shapes of humans dressed in simple smocks. There were guards everywhere, shepherding prisoners here and there. They were not gentle about it. It all looked very bad.

Xander looked around. There was an opening to another room further down and judging by the sounds and the flying sparks, that place was similar to this. The machines explained why they needed the humans. Slaves. Slaves to be worked to death or until they were too old and broken to be of any use. And then to be abandoned on the streets of LA. Xander winced. Hell was the right word for this place. Well, then. Time to find Buffy and stick a spanner in the works. What an appropriate metaphor, he thought.

As he slipped down a metal staircase, keeping in the shadows he reached out with the force again, seeking out Buffy. Whoa. She felt different again. She was very angry and determined now and suddenly... Xander grinned. She felt very Slayery, if there was such a word. The sadness had receded a little – it was still there, but no longer as hard and dominating. But it looked like Buffy had her mojo back. Which was good. She'd need it to get out of this place.

She was over there... but as Xander made his way towards her he heard a soft sobbing from one side. Turning his head he saw a corridor off to one side, lined with heavily barred doors. There were people in the cells there. Lost people, despairing people, people with little will to live. There was also a very large guard with a whip that had dark encrustations on the end of it. Dried blood. A lot of it. He walked into the corridor. Noticing the movement the guard looked up at Xander's approach through small and beady eyes behind a leather mask, and then stood up to loom menacingly over him.

"What are you doing here, scum?" he barked at the human. "If you're not on a work detail you're supposed to be locked away with your worthless human dregs." Then he paused as Xander pulled Aquila out from behind his back.

"I'm the union rep and I'm here to negotiate some holidays and more toilet breaks for my members, along with the right to donuts and coffee," said Xander with a grin. "Oops, no, sorry. Wrong speech there."

The guard let out a roar of anger and swept the whip back, but before he could deliver the blow Xander slashed out with Aquila, plunging the blade deep into the demon before pulling it out again and watching the body fall away.

The sobbing in the cells had stopped and he could feel the eyes of a number of deeply frightened people on him. He looked down at the guard and grabbed the only key he could see.

"Why do they keep keys on belts," he muttered as he looked at the cells, "Why not be original? Demons have no imagination at all."

The doors of the cells were secured with a locking mechanism next to where the guard had been sitting that opened them all with a turn of the key. Xander inserted it and turned. There was a squeal and the doors opened slowly. No-one emerged and he carefully looked into the nearest one. Five terrified women and two men, all dressed in smocks and all rail-thin, were looking at him. "They'll punish you," whispered one of them.

Xander waggled Aquila. "Not today. Come on, I'm getting you all out of here. Out, come on."

There was an angry shout a long way away and suddenly there was the long drawn out wail of an alarm. Xander looked along the corridor. Nothing here. It had to be Buffy, doing her Slayer-style thing. These demons wouldn't know what hit them.

The prisoners had shrunk back further in their cells at the sound of the alarm and Xander had to chivvy them along to get them to come into the corridor. Gentleness seemed to be the answer; it was obviously something that they hadn't known for some time. Going from cell to cell he collected everyone he could find, until he got to the last one, where a teenaged girl was huddled in one corner, looking through him with huge terrified eyes.

"What's your name, honey?" Xander asked gently. She just looked at him. Conscious that valuable seconds were slipping by, he squatted down next to her. "What's your name?" he asked again.

"Nothing... no-one..." she whispered, tears streaking her face. "I'm no- one."

"No you're not," he said. "Don't let them break you. You have a name. Remember it? Sure you can. It's time to go, honey. The guard is dead. I'm getting you all out of here. I'm taking you all home." The eyes looked at him for the first time. "Home?" she asked, with more than a hint of hope. "Home?" "Home," he said reassuringly and held his hand out for her to grasp. Slowly she levered herself up and shuffled to the door.

As they came out Xander looked at the crowd milling in the corridor. They were all staring in abject terror at something he couldn't quite see. Leaving the girl with someone who appeared to have a faint flicker of defiance in his expression Xander hurried forward. One of the demons could be seen close to the mouth of the corridor. Fortunately he had his back to them. Instead he was grasping the railings tightly and staring out at something below him. From the yells, clashes of metal on metal, not to mention the signal from his Slayer-scope, Xander could tell that the Slayer was busy down there. He frowned. This guy was familiar. He was the one who had fallen into the portal with Buffy.


The demon who called himself Ken in LA stood staring in disbelief as the blond troublemaker who had ripped his false face off proceeded to slaughter his men beneath him. This did not happen here.

"Fight back?" he spat angrily. "That's not right. That doesn't happen here." Then something very cold and sharp pressed against the back of his neck.

"Guess what?" said a voice behind him. "The rules have changed."

The sharp thing stopped pressing against his neck and he was about spin around to kill the insolent human when he briefly felt a very sharp pain against the side of his neck. After that he didn't feel anything at all.
Xander looked down at the headless demon and then turned back to the crowd of freed prisoners, who were looking at the body in disbelief. "Okay, folks, here's where we start the ball rolling. Up the stairs, go on, move! Up to the portal, that's the way home. Come on, I'll protect you."

Slowly at first and then faster and faster the former workers started to move to the stairs and climb to safety. Xander watched them go. Feeling a demon approach he moved down the walkway, moving into a defensive stance. The demon was in a hurry to join the fight downstairs. He was certainly not expecting to see a crowd of escaping prisoners. Letting out a loud bellow he surged down the walkway, clutching what appeared to be half a sword and half a scythe. The prisoners started to run up the stairs, some screaming in fear as they saw the demon approach – and then Xander stepped up and ran the demon through. It gaped at him for a long moment and then died.

Xander kicked the body off Aquila and gazed around. The prisoners were making good progress. Then he looked over the railings. Buffy was cleaving a path through the demons and was looking as if she was resolving a large number of issues at the same time. Wow, he thought. Impressive. Then he paused. A demon had emerged from a doorway hidden in the shadows to one side of where Buffy was fighting. He was clutching a crossbow, and was pulling the drawstring back.

"Damn," said Xander. He doubted if Buffy would hear a shouted warning – the machinery was still rumbling and pounding all around her, and besides he didn't want to distract her from her fight.

"I guess that's why the Host told me to come," he muttered. The demon had finished cocking the crossbow and was now fumbling for a bolt.

Xander looked down at Aquila and smiled. The sword had served him well. But a Jedi couldn't get attached to material possessions. He lifted it up by the hilt, embraced the force and threw it at the demon.

It wasn't a straight path down to the target; he had to use the force to get Aquila to dodge three beams, two chains and a revolving arm, but it plunged straight down, running to its target like a homing missile. The demon never even saw it coming before it went straight through his chest. The crossbow fell to the floor, followed by the demon.

Xander nodded and then looked up. There seemed to be some confusion upstairs. The prisoners had come up against something. Cursing he turned his back on Buffy and ran up the stairs.
Buffy got one demon in the face, swept another off its feet with a lash of the foot and then stabbed another one in the gut. As it slid off the platform she heard a swish and a grunt from behind her and she turned in time to see another skanky red slave driver fall over. Then she blinked. There was a sword sticking out of its chest. She didn't remember anyone else being around. Where'd that come from? She looked around quickly and then somersaulted off the platform, landing next to the dead demon. It had been arming a crossbow. Wowzer, someone had been looking out for her. She looked up in time to see a dark form in the shadows several levels up disappear up a set of stairs. Could have been her ally. Whoever he was.

She shrugged. Time to go. She reached down and effortlessly pulled the sword out of the demon. Hum, quite a nice one. Little eagley thing on the hilt as well. Cool. Why did it look faintly familiar? She swung it experimentally and then took off to find Lily and the others.
The hold-up turned out to be a portcullis that no-one could move. Xander reached out with the force and sent it soaring up back into the slot in the ceiling it had come from. There was some sort of locking mechanism there as well, and he used the force to engage it. "Go!" he shouted and the prisoners boiled through the opening towards the room with the portal, where they milled around, staring at the black water above them with trepidation.

"On each other's shoulders! Help each other up!" he urged and then encouraged one woman to climb up onto his own back. She wobbled up and put a hand through the portal to where the rim would be in LA. From the way that she vanished upwards Xander was sure that Doyle had grabbed her. Heh. Would he be surprised!

More footsteps pounded in the corridor and he turned to see more prisoners enter, led by a girl with long blond hair and a tattoo on one arm.

"Up, let's get you out of here!" he shouted and urged them on and up. His Slayer-scope was showing a large Buffy-sized blip heading straight towards them and he relaxed a little. Time to go. Two girls were trying to get out and he recognised one of them as the teenager from the cell earlier. "Let me give you a hand," he said and used the force to lift her through the air and up into the portal, followed by the second one.

"The force is with me," he muttered and then leapt into the air in a force- jump, entering the portal just as Buffy arrived through the door.

The room was full of crying, shaking people, many of whom were huddled in blankets, as he rose through the black water-substance and he had to tuck himself into a tight somersault and use the force to land off to one side where he wouldn't hit anyone. Doyle watched him land and then hurried over to him.

"God, where'd this lot come from? I saw you go in, then this hand appeared just after. I grabbed it and pulled and it was this girl. Then it just exploded people. I grabbed some of the blankets from the other room. They were being used as props I think. Never been used. Who are they all?"

"Prisoners. They had quite the little slave industry down there in some kind of industrial plant." said Xander, looking around through the bodies at the opening. Another hand had appeared in the portal and then the blond girl pulled herself through, followed by Buffy. Then there was an odd sensation and he felt dizzy. The portal had changed, the black substance had gone and was replaced by tiles. The way was closed.

Xander sighed and concentrated on Buffy. She seemed a lot better. She had recovered her mojo. He smiled at Doyle. "I think I'll slip out before she sees me. Don't want to freak her out too much, she's had a tough enough day. I've got to see Thorne and then call some people. I think the Slayer is coming home."