Okay, well I'd like to start by thanking everyone for their reviews and then saying wow to whoever nominated me for the Crossover Awards, where Jedi Harris has been nominated for the Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fiction Crossover, Best Unfinished Story and Star Wars Fiction Crossover, Best Unfinished Story categories. Completely gobsmacked here, thank you very much. This story has come a long way. More good guesses about Xander's Padawans, but you'll have to wait until the next chapter to see who number one is. And finally, I'd like to dedicate, belatedly, this story to my Grandmother, Olwen Richards, who died a year ago last week at the age of 95. She read Winnie the Pooh and A.A. Milne to me when I was small and burbling and I owe a lot to her. Gran-ma, thank you. I miss you very much.
Lindsey was on the phone when he saw her walking up ahead. Smirking, he snapped off a comment about doing lunch, slipped the phone into pocket of his jacket and sidled up to her. Lilah Morgan was engrossed in the contents of a folder and was giving the Gaze of Death to anyone who got in her way. Then she noticed him and snapped the folder shut. "Lindsey," she said in a false-polite way. "How can I help you?"
"Just wanted to say that I have to admire the way you got out of that hole you were in last week," smiled the lawyer. "Nice use of language. Nice unloading of all blame onto incompetent subordinates. Even if, I am reliably informed, you hadn't seen them for four days."
Lilah looked at him through narrowed eyes, obviously wondering how he had known that. "They'd been perfectly competent before," she said reluctantly. "It just looks as if they were unable to handle a relatively simple job this time."
"I heard they came back to LA and kidnapped someone," he shot back, "A part Brachen demon." The glare she shot at him almost sizzled the air molecules around him, it was so intense. "If he ever finds out that we employed them..."
"He'd end up bought off or dead inside the hour," she grated. "Is there some other reason you're still here? I have a meeting with Karvor's pouch- mate in half an hour and I need to warn the kitchens to have a fresh bull's heart served up for the Rite of Mourning. There are so few of them left that the funeral is going to be a major event."
"Hey, I just thought I'd pass on my compliments," he said, raising his hands. "And tell you that I had a call from forensics. Seems that it wasn't a ghost after all in that cave, like you thought. It was a wraith. Very nasty. Something actually killed your boys, destroyed the wraith and took the Cross. Kinda makes you curious, doesn't it? I'll see you around." Lindsey adjusted his jacket slightly and walked off. As he turned the corner he snuck a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. Yes, she was still glaring after him. Good. Let her sweat a bit.
Passing down the corridor he paused to let a fellow lawyer pass, along with a large spiny demon who was talking loudly in what appeared to be French, before approaching the lifts. Pressing the up button he then turned when the lift to the right dinged softly and he walked up to it. The doors opened to reveal Holland Manners.
"Ah, Lindsey, there you are!" Lindsey suppressed a shiver. How had Holland known that he would be there?
"Come up with me to my office," said the older man. Waiting until Lindsey was in the lift he pressed the button for his floor. "Nice work on the Laughton case," he commended, "Very smooth speech. Bright and menacing. Ah. After you."
The doors swept open and the two walked down a corridor. "I have a little job for you, Lindsey. I was going to give it to Lilah but, well, she's a little busy at the moment. A client of the firms – a very old client – is passing through Los Angeles this weekend. I want you to meet up with him and his aide and offer them both every comfort and courtesy. The usual hospitality. He has a major account with us and... well, let's just say that we don't want him to be disappointed. He might have some... interesting tastes, so I thought I'd better have a chat with you first."
"Of course, Holland," murmured Lindsey, "I'll extend all the hospitality I can."
"Good, good, I know that you won't let me down." Holland opened the door to his office and ushered Lindsey in.
"His name is Kakistos."
It was a perfectly okay sword. Sharp, reasonable balance, good for the dusting of the vampires. He twirled it around into the third offensive position and then sighed. But it wasn't Aquila, or Birdy as Buffy called it, which was still under her bed. Xander frowned. This was shaping up to be a major potential problem, he thought as he looked around the darkened park.
The Slayer was back in town but she still didn't know about his abilities. On the night of the zombies he'd been able to shake off the initial questions, after Giles had told Buffy that he had been training with him. Fortunately she hadn't seen him fight the undead visitors, or she would have smelt a rat. Pat whatshername had somehow been able to rationalise what she'd seen as being something to do with a Halloween rehearsal. It was amazing how people could somehow turn their heads away from the truth of living on a Hellmouth.
No, he was more worried about the situation with Buffy. Giles was right in that she was still coming to terms with being back home, but Xander hated the fact that they were keeping such a big secret from her. It felt, well, just wrong. Jedi-wrong, on a scale of much Jedi-ness. Giles had told him that they would tell her when the time was right. The problem with that line of reasoning was that on the Hellmouth the time was never right, or rather the time was usually ten minutes to the end of the world. He snorted. He'd wait a week and then tell her, whatever the Watcher said. There was too much at stake not to tell her.
At least she was probably going to be allowed back into school soon. Joyce Summers, displaying all the fierce determination of a non-slayer member of the Summers family, had collected an impressive amount of documentation and advice together about her daughter's right to a public education, and was becoming quite the legal expert. According to Giles, Snyder was being outmanoeuvred and would soon – as in tomorrow - have to run up the white flag, unless he wanted a very public, not to mention one-sided, legal case being made against him. Heh. What a shame. Speaking of Giles, he had to make sure that he got in early the next day to explain to the Watcher why all the power outlets in his office were being used.
He moved the sword into a slightly more comfortable position on his hip and stared down at the envelope again. The Host of Caritas had told him to open it on a certain day, and the day had arrived. It was a little unsettling. It was like having a ticking bomb on him. The Host's last prediction had led to a hell dimension. What would this one lead to? Taking a deep breath he ripped the envelope open and looked down at the paper inside. Then he reached in and unfolded the contents. On it the Host had written: "Corner of Third and Blekin, underpass, 11pm. Easily dustable. Check the manifest. Bzzzz."
"Much with the cryptic comments," muttered Xander. Okay, Third and Blekin was about two miles away. It was 10pm now, so he had plenty of time to work out the meaning of the rest of it. He knew the underpass well – it led to the nastier side of Sunnydale. The nastier human side that it. 'Easily dustable' probably meant vampires. Okay. But what manifest? And 'Bzzzz?' What did that mean? Killer giant vampire bees? Or a flickering streetlight? He shrugged and strode off.
Master Sergeant Armstrong was in a very bad mood. It was late, the truck's transmission was playing up, he'd had to stop not once but twice to mend flat tyres and now he was lost. Plus he was three hours past the ETA. Great, just great. Stuck in Hicksville, on the road to nowhere. He should never have agreed to the posting. He had no idea what was being set up but he did not want to know. Supply runs in plain clothes made him uneasy. Hell, being out of uniform made him uneasy. Come to think of it, everything about this place made him uneasy. He scowled down at the map and then looked around through the windscreen of the motionless truck. He was on a side road with bad lighting and no street markings. Two drunks were weaving down the street towards him, drinking from a bottle and singing a bad version of a Meatloaf song.
Hell, why hadn't they been able to get the funding for those GPS systems? That would've made life so much sweeter. But no, minimal equipment. No suspicions, they said. Especially no civilian suspicions. Well, that was just peachy. He'd have to get out and ask two drunks the best way to the Campus. He just hoped that they weren't too slammed.
Sighing, he opened the door and swung down out of the cab. The taller drunk was now talking about someone called Maria who'd dumped him for some loser called Gnarl, or something like that. Armstrong frowned. Hicksville sure had some odd names.
"Excuse me," he said, trying his best not to sound too military. If Major Grant got to hear about this, there would be hell to pay. "I'm looking for the approach road to the University of Sunnydale, could you guys point me in the right direction?"
The drunks stopped. This close he could see that they were younger than he had thought. "Wow, man," said the short one, "Talk about serendipity. That is so cool. You said it back there and here's something now. " Armstrong gritted his teeth and bit back a snapped command to stop talking bullshit and just give him some directions. Then he stopped dead. Their faces had changed, twisted somehow, with ridges appearing on their foreheads and suddenly very sharp canines.
"Yeah," said the taller one, "Funny how you bump into something to eat when you're hungry." Then he lunged. Armstrong tried to scream, tried to make a sound, but they were biting at his neck, the pain was terrible and it was getting dark, very dark...
The corner of Third and Blekin was deserted. It was also wind-blown, dusty and dead. Nothing had been happening when Xander had arrived and now, close to 11pm, nothing was doing a repeat performance. He sighed and leant against a mailbox, having first checked the side of it in case any dogs had left a liquid deposit. Patience was important for a Jedi, but he was both bored and curious. Being bored had an easy remedy these days however, he could just take a stroll through his memories. He closed his eyes. His control of the force, combined with all the mental training he'd been doing, made it easy to recall things. Like the Battle of Kamino and the importance of finding a way out of a seemingly impossible position with a little lateral thinking.
He opened his eyes again. Somewhere off to one side he could hear a truck. From the sound of it, the vehicle's transmission was a bit off. And as it came into sight, it was obvious that it was being driven in an extremely erratic manner. There were two men in the cab, two men who felt wrong in the force... vampires. Aha, he thought, the Host shoots and he scores! Then he paused. The truck was moving at about 40 miles an hour. Intercepting it would be tricky. He could always use the force for a force jump onto the roof of the cab, but the underpass was close and judging it would be tricky... Then he looked at the cab again and changed his mind. The way it was being driven, or rather not driven, would make it stop soon enough, he realised as he stepped back hurriedly. The two figures were struggling over what looked like a bottle, leaving the steering in the lap of the Gods.
The Gods obviously were not impressed, as the truck sped past Xander, bounced onto the sidewalk, smashed the mailbox to one side and then hit a buttress to the side of the underpass. The truck stopped dead in an impressively abrupt manner with a horrible clattering crunch, the engine died and a cloud of steam shot up from the smashed radiator. Xander walked over.
As he approached the right hand door opened and a shaky figure emerged, clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels and with his game face on. "Man," he said, "That was close. Almost broke the bottle! You suck at driving, man, we'll never get to DeMarco's place!" Then he noticed Xander. "Wow, I fancied a snack! Hey Bob, your serpen... siren... serendipity, wow I said it, thing just kicked in again!" There was a groan from the cab in response.
"Not quite," said Xander, drawing his sword. "In fact, just the opposite." The blade flashed and the now headless drunken vampire crumbled into a cloud of dust. The bottle smashed on the ground, which drew some attention from the groaning occupant of the cab.
"Hey, Frank you klutz, you break the bottle again? Frank? Ow, I think I landed on my keys." Bob crawled out of the cab and looked at the sword in front of him. "Oh, hell." "You said it," was the reply, and Bob joined Frank as a part of the landscape. Some of him landed in the puddle of Jack Daniels which was, Xander reflected, highly appropriate.
Peering into the cab he winced as he caught sight of a body. Whoever he was he had been quite big and was now quite dead. Seeing the holes in the side of the heavily muscled neck Xander checked the mouth and was relieved to find no blood. The guy wouldn't join the ranks of the undead. As for the rest of the cab, it was a wreck. Torn wiring and pieces of plastic were everywhere, the windscreen had shattered and only the radio looked intact but battered. That was odd. The radio... he leant forwards. This was not a standard civilian radio. It looked military to him.
Right then... manifest? He rummaged around and finally pulled out a battered clipboard. It had seen better days. Originally the papers on it had been covered in clear plastic, but that had been ripped off at some point, leaving the manifest in a bad way. Bits had been ripped off, other bits had blood on them and it smelt as if some of the Jack Daniels had splashed onto the rest. He held it up to the light and flipped through, growing more and more intrigued, along with frustrated at the gaps.
Okay, this was a supply shipment to something called an Internal Operating/Research Base, codenamed I-something, provisionally commanded by someone called Major Squiggle. It was hard to read. The dead guy had orders to deliver the cargo (see overleaf for manifest) to the base by 2000 Hours, 2nd October, submitting the cargo to Captain Drew-something or other. After that it got very bitty. He could see mention of someone called Dr M. big blob of blood-sh, delivery point Alpha, slash more blood, tattered scrap of paper, smear.
"Hmmm," he muttered. "I heard of Fort Fremont and the other areas. But nothing close to here." He shrugged. Well, it was a mystery. He flipped over to the manifest. Aha. Mention of three dozen assault rifles, ammunition included in box 235/J, computer parts for a Cray, wow that was a big computer wasn't it, four centrifuges?
Getting down from the cab he walked to the back of the truck. It had the remains of a lock on the doors, but most of it was missing so he presumed that the late Frank and Bob had got there first. And from their mention of DeMarco, who was a notorious gang leader in downtown Sunnydale, he could guess where they were going with the guns.
Opening the doors he looked into a scene of chaos. The vampires had rummaged around thoroughly and the crash hadn't help matters. It looked as if a bomb had gone off inside it. Fortunately the ammunition was still crated. He didn't want to start slipping on unsecured rounds. Hum. Guns, computer parts and centrifuges? Odd combination. Sounded like a military research place. Ominous. Then he looked further down the list and stopped dead. Wow, he thought dazedly. That explains the 'Bzzzz'. Looking up he waded through the contents of the truck, looking from side to side keenly. After a while he used the force to lift a stanchion up and reached down to pick up a small box. Checking the serial number stencilled on the side he opened it carefully. Not perfect, but good enough with some adjustments and a cooling mechanism in place...
"In the name of the Galactic Republic, I hereby requisition this part," he muttered to himself as he got out of the back. That would have to do. Jedi could appropriate items if they were in dire need, and this came under that category. A smile crossed his face as he thought of Anakin 'borrowing' some transport on Coruscant.
Then he closed the doors, picked up a stray piece of metal and replaced the lock, using the force to twist it firmly into place. No sense in taking chances. Then he walked back to the cab and pulled and prodded at the wiring that led to the radio. The battery was fine so... aha, the power button lit up. He looked back at the manifest. The number '34' was scrawled in one corner and he would lay good odds on that being the communication frequency. He dialled it in and picked up the handset.
"Hello? Anybody there?" he said into it.
There was a pause. Then an irritated voice said: "This is an official frequency, please get off the air now."
"I'd love to," said Xander, "But I'm speaking from a wrecked cab with a dead driver next to me, big guy, no neck, I'm guessing military, with a manifest marked 345/IN/Omega. This thing's next to the underpass close to Third and Blekin in Sunnydale, so I'm guessing you need to get some people over here and make with the cover story."
There was a confused noise from the speaker and then a new, much younger, voice said: "Who is this? What happened to the driver?"
Xander made a face. "I'm your average anonymous tip-off, and you wouldn't believe me in a million years if I told you how he died."
He was about to turn the radio off when the new voice said: "Try me."
"Vampires," replied Xander and turned the power off. That should give them a bit of warning. Pocketing the box he ambled off. This was about to be a very unsafe environment if he wanted to be Mr Anonymous Jedi. He scratched the back of his neck and looked off to the northwest. He was getting odd signals from his Slayer-scope again, as if another Slayer was getting closer to Sunnydale. Well, this was turning into a real Curate's Egg of a night, as Giles would say. The scary thing was that he knew what that meant. Hoo boy.
It was a bar in Los Angeles. He couldn't remember the name, but the normal crowd from Wolfram & Hart wouldn't be seen dead there. Lindsey stared muzzily at the glass of beer in front of him. It really should have been whiskey, but he wasn't in the mood to get despondent. No, he was just in the mood to wonder what the hell he had done when he agreed to come to work for Holland Manners. It had seemed such a good idea at the time. Money, influence, eventually power. He could build a career, be someone, unlike his father's pathetic life. Dirt poor and hungry, turned out of one home and forced to take whatever he could. While, he, Lindsey, had fought to get out of that dustbowl of a town, had fought to get an education, had battled his way into Law School, had made a name for himself as a brilliant young lawyer, enough to be noticed and groomed by Manners.
Who had introduced him to Wolfram & Hart, a firm with some very unconventional clients. He winced, drained the rest of the beer and called for another one. The barman brought it over and he slipped him a five dollar note. "Keep the change," he said in a steady voice. Sipping the beer he winced as a memory surfaced. Kakistos had been a large vampire. Old too, so old that his demonic side was on permanent display, which was not a pretty sight. All cloven hands. Yuck. And then there was his aide, a black vampire with the odd name of Mr Trick, who was much more clever than his master. Both had... interesting... tastes. This had involved two young female vampire prostitutes, a room in the guest quarters floor of Wolfram & Hart and two young women who thought that they were attending an audition for a film. Sadly, they would never break into films. They would never do anything at all, ever again, although Kakistos had kept one finger bone to use to pick his teeth with. The others had thought that was funny.
Lindsey didn't. He had kept his face expressionless, told them to ring if they had any problems and then gone down to his office and stared at the wall for half an hour. When it had come time to see his 'guests' into their limo he had played the eager host, waved them off, accepted Holland's compliments and then left to find a suitable bar.
"What the hell am I doing?" he muttered. Looking up he caught sight of his face in the mirror over the bar and turned away hurriedly. "What am I?"
Fumbling with his briefcase Giles walked into the library and looked around. Good, no late returns to replace on the bookcase. Willow had set up a computerised filing system that gave him the willies and which was almost too much for his technophobic self. He yawned. A cup of tea would go down very nicely indeed. Coffee even.
Passing into his office he put his briefcase down and then looked around for the kettle. That was odd, it was unplugged. Then he saw the leads going to the power outlet and blinked hard. Looking around the office he could see that the other three outlets were all connected up to a series of what looked like jump cables, which led in turn to a small metal cylinder that was about four inches tall and two inches wide. A little orange light was blinking on top of it. As he watched it flicked out and a green light came on. This too started to blink. Next to it was a note. "Do not touch."
Giles looked at it bemusedly. Obviously something was being charged with power. The question was, what? He heard the clump of feet and stuck his head out of the office. Xander was standing at the weapons cabinet, replacing the sword that he had borrowed the previous day. He glanced up at Giles.
"Hey, Giles. Ah. You're probably going to ask me why your office is full of what looks like junk."
"Do you mean this... contraption in here?" asked Giles with a frown and a wave of the hand in the general direction of the whatever it was.
"Yeah. It's a power cell. I've been working on it for a while, finally finished it yesterday. It's been powering up..." he glanced at his watch. "Well, for the past 12 hours. Should be finished in another three or so. Sorry, but if I'd powered it up at home the electric bill would killed my dad."
"You mean I'm going to be without tea – I mean power – for the next three hours?" said an aghast Giles.
Xander frowned and pulled out an extension cord. "Nope, all you have to do is plug this baby in over there and you are back in business with the tea- making." He tossed it over to Giles, who connected it up and walked back into his office, where he put the kettle on.
"Ah," said Giles, as he returned clutching a mug of coffee and smacking his lips. Then: "A power cell for what, Xander? I'm no expert, but that thing looks extremely advanced."
The pseudo-Jedi hesitated as he looked at the Watcher. "I'm constructing a lightsabre, Giles."
There was a pause. Then Giles pulled his glasses off and started to polish them. He felt stunned. "You, you have the knowledge to do that?" he asked after a while. "To construct something so advanced? Xander, are you sure that this is a good idea?"
The younger man sat down at the table and put his hands on its surface before looking up. "Giles, I'm not a true Jedi without a lightsabre. Possession of one... makes a Jedi in a fundamental way that I can't begin to explain. True Jedi make their own lightsabres, but making one here on Earth hasn't been the easiest of things to do. It's taken me some time and I've still got a lot of work to do. But yes, I think that it is a good idea." Then he grinned. "Plus, imagine the look on all those fang-faces when they see a lightsabre in action." Then he turned slightly and looked over to the east. "By the way Giles, did you know that we have another Slayer in town?"
Giles followed his gaze and then turned back. "Really? You, you can tell?"
"Oh yeah, there's another big Buffy-sized blip in the force over there somewhere. Felt her arrive last night." He smiled wryly. "Two slayers tend to attract bad news, Giles. So, who is the new Slayer anyway? Who got the call after Kendra died?"
"Good question," he replied. "I'm not sure. I did hear mention of a girl in Boston, but sadly the Watcher's Council wasn't more specific. I can make some enquiries though. And perhaps Buffy can make contact with her. I feel that she needs distracting a little." He sighed. Even with the imminent return to school of his charge, he was still very worried about her. She still had not talked in any great detail about the events of the night that she had killed Angel. However, he fully intended to get her to open up about it. Some carefully phrased questions perhaps, to allow her to unburden herself of the guilt that she must be feeling.
Nodding, Xander stood up. "Okay, I've got to get going. The joys of Math await. I'll have a word with Willow and then start a Slayer-search. Something doesn't quite feel right about her, I'm picking up more weird vibes." Picking up his bag he strode out, pausing by the door to allow Principal Snyder to walk angrily past without seeing him. "Ooh, much anger there," he quipped and then was gone.
Giles blew on his coffee and then took a sip. Life was certainly getting interesting. If someone had told in London three years ago that he would now be living on a Hellmouth, taking care of a Slayer whose best friends included a budding witch, a monosyllabic werewolf and a Jedi Knight he would have laughed his head off and then had them committed to an asylum.
Buffy's first day back at school had been a mixed one. On the one hand the sight of the defeated Snyder had been something wonderful to watch. Her Mom had put it best: "Neah, neah, ne-neah neah!" And the sheer amount of joy that Willow had put out had been impressive.
On the other hand Xander kept staring off somewhere and muttering about fear and darkness when he thought that no-one was listening and Giles had asked a number of probing questions about the night that she had sent Angel to hell. She had been deeply shaken by that, it had brought up a lot of very bad memories. As for Xander, something was way wiggy there. He was not the old Xander. He was more serious, more focussed and his grades were a lot better. She couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on there, that something remained unsaid. The fact was that her friends were still a little careful around her, and she sighed. Life was not the same. She had a lot to deal with.
But the Bronze remained the Bronze, a place to shake it all loose and then twirl with the party spirit and she was looking forward to strutting her stuff. They were off to meet Willow and Oz there, those two little love monkeys. Why was Xander frowning then?
Oh crap, thought Xander, she's in there. The other Slayer's in the Bronze. What are odds on that one? She was putting up a big damn blip in the force, a blip that had been increasingly worrying him. She felt different from Kendra and very different from Buffy. He could sense undercurrents of pure emotion running off her. Fear. Hate. Anger, oh boy was there a lot of anger there. But fear was the biggie.
As they entered the Bronze he looked around, probing with the force. There she was. The new Slayer was dark-haired and curvy, with knowing eyes. And dancing like a dervish. Wow. He frowned. This one was much more exuberant.
As they joined Willow and Oz he chose a chair where he could see the dance floor clearly. The new Slayer was already dancing with someone else, whose girlfriend was not pleased. Oh, and a vampire was eying her up. The guy had multi-coloured braces and looked terribly 1988. He sighed. The Bronze drew young-looking vampires like a magnet. Apparently they were unable to get the simple fact that as the Slayer went to High School, and High School students hung out at the Bronze, therefore the Bronze = the Slayer. And a dusty death.
As he watched the dark-haired girl changed partners yet again, this time dancing with the vampire, who obviously couldn't believe his luck. Xander looked around to see that Buffy had followed his gaze and was frowning at the pair.
"She's pretty wild," said the blonde Slayer, "And he's pretty undead." She shook her head. "There goes the compliment. Oh, there goes the invitation to 'step outside', and there goes the wink. And there's Cordy chatting up Scott Hope, the strumpet!" She added the last in an anguished tone of voice.
Xander looked at her wryly. She had been making with the goo-goo eyes at Hope for the past few days. "Buffy," he chided gently, "Priorities here. Vamp needs staking. Girl needs saving."
"Oh yeah," said Buffy distractedly. "Come on."
But as it happened, and as Xander knew, the girl did not need saving. By the time that they had reached the pair, the dark-haired Slayer was kicking the vampire all over the place, adding a few headbutts and some even harder punches for good measure. Finally, having borrowed Mr Pointy from a stunned Buffy, she put him out of his misery.
"Hi, you must be Buffy," she introduced herself. "I'm Faith."
And Xander stared at her carefully. This girl was brittle, her wisecracks and her racy stories aside. She was a Slayer but she was far too angry. And up close all that fear was just under the surface. The way that she would occasionally check out what was behind her. The faint air of jumpiness. The eyes. Oh, those eyes. There was something there behind them, alright. She was on the run from someone or something, and given the fact that she had arrived on a Hellmouth, he would have said probably something. As they all chatted in the Bronze Xander sat silently at the back. He was busy using the force to see if anything nasty had arrived in town. So far nothing, but that didn't mean that something wasn't out there. And he would talk to Giles the next morning. At least the Watcher had his power outlets back.
The Watcher did indeed have everything ship-shape and Bristol-fashion, whatever that meant, the next day as Xander sat down with him to discuss the new Slayer in town.
"Yes. Well," said Giles as he stirred his tea thoughtfully. "I admit that she is, well, a little feisty. Very exuberant. Very..."
"Giles, I can sense the word 'bumptious' hanging in the air here."
"Well, I was going to say 'fiery', but bumptious will do as well. Why are you so concerned?"
Leaning forward in his chair, Xander placed his fingertips together and touched his chin. "She feels different from Buffy and Kendra, Giles. She feels... darker. Wilder. And she has more than aggression in her tank Giles, she has a lot of fear. She's running from something, I don't know what and I don't know why, but she is afraid of something."
The door had opened as he had been talking and they glanced up to see Willow, sans Oz for once. She placed her books on the desk and then looked over at them.
"Who's afraid of what, Xander?"
"We, we were just discussing Faith. Xander seems to think that something might be amiss with her."
Willow hurried over and sat next to Xander. "Wow, have you felt a tremor in the force? Are you going to get a vision?" He looked at her bemusedly.
"Wills, she just doesn't feel right. I think she's afraid of something. Although what would a Slayer be afraid of?"
Shrugging, Giles stood. "No Slayer is invincible, Xander. As we know, the Hellmouth here tends to attract the forces of darkness. There's always something on the horizon."
"And sometimes," said Xander, "It's bigger than the horizon."
"My point precisely," answered Giles. He looked very serious for a moment. "Yes, well, lets not get too ahead of ourselves. Faith's Watcher is currently on Watcher's Retreat, something of a holiday, although as I told Buffy earlier on, I've never been invited, worse luck. I can get a message to Mrs Horrocks later on."
Xander stirred in his seat. He'd had the feeling that something was off with that part of what Faith had said. He wasn't sure why, but something was wrong about the way that she had said it. It was just a feeling though and, picking up his bag he left with Willow, who turned to him after they left the Library.
"Xander, why did Giles go all serious when he was talking about no Slayer being invincible?"
He winced. He'd been hoping that she hadn't noticed that. As a Jedi he had to tell the truth. "Wills," he said quietly as they walked down the hallway, "Buffy is rather different from most Slayers. She's been one for three years now. That's a long time according to Giles. A long time for a Slayer that is. Many of them never make it to two years. Living on a Hellmouth doesn't help. Giles's worst nightmare is to lose Buffy, it's every Watcher's worst nightmare. And we need to help her make it." She has a Jedi on her side, he added silently. Which reminded him. He had work to do.
Buffy and Faith made with the slaying that night, something that he heard about afterwards from Giles. That was a shame, because he wanted to see how the new Slayer handled herself. But by the time that he heard about it, it was all over. And, according to Giles, Buffy was worried about Faith's attitude, which appeared to be strike first and then beat the living crap out of it. She had not been as efficiently economical as Buffy, who preferred the surgical strike.
Giles was also extremely worried. Apparently one of the vampires the two Slayers had encountered had mentioned the name of Kakistos, a very old and very powerful Vampire who had been kicking around since the fall of the Persian Empire. The Watcher was now on the phone to England, trying to get in touch with Mrs Horrocks, so far unsuccessfully, while Xander, Oz and Willow waited around the desk. Buffy had been sent off to find Faith.
He felt jumpy for some reason. Something felt, well, not right, like the feeling you got before a storm. He shook himself. It was a good chance to practice some forms, thought Xander and he wandered over to the weapons cabinet. Opening it he looked over the selection on off. Nothing was as good as Aquila but eventually he picked up the sword he'd used a few nights before. Swinging it carefully he dropped into a combat stance and then moved into the first defensive posture, as any good Jedi would. As Willow and Oz watched he then went through into the second and then third defensive positions, before changing gears and sliding into the first offensive posture, which he had always been quite fond of.
"So, how does it work?" asked a fascinated Oz. "How many positions are there for Jedi swordwork?"
Flashing into the fourth and then fifth offensive, Xander paused. "Five basic defensive and five offensive positions. Defence first. As the green guy said, the force is used for knowledge and defence, but never for attack. Even when defending yourself it's only to be used when called for. There are more advanced forms after that, but that takes more practice." As he said this he moved into the first advanced defensive posture and he heard the sound of raised voices in the office. Returning to a normal stance he turned to the door. There was the sound of a phone being slammed down and Giles hurried through.
"That was the Watcher's Council. Mrs Horrocks isn't on Retreat, she's dead. Tortured to death according to the police. You were right, Xander, Faith is running. She's running from Kakistos, who actually signed his name on her Watcher. And if those missing person reports are anything to go by, he's here. In Sunnydale. Now." He turned to Xander. "You are best equipped to find them both at once. Find them and bring them back here at once. We'll prepare in case we have company of the vampiric sort. Go!"
Xander ran.
The force couldn't lend him wings, but it could do two things. He knew where they were thanks to it – two Slayers, together, big signal – and he could hitch a lift using it. Seeing a truck that looked as it was going in the right general direction, he force-jumped onto the back of it and clung on, his sword in his belt. When it looked as if the truck was going to turn away from the general direction he needed to go in, he jumped ship to a second truck that was headed the right way.
They were over there... and something was there with them. Urgh. Giles had said that Kakistos had been around for so long that his demon side had subsumed his human shell. Well yeah, and the demon stank of the dark side. It was powerful.
Think this through, he thought desperately, come on, where are those tactics you are so proud of? The truck made a turn and he got to his feet, looking up. Then he force leapt straight up some 15 feet, got a good hold on a street light, swung up and tucked into a ball, to land on his feet at the bottom of a fire escape. Then he ran up the stairs to the flat roof of the building and looked down. Perfect, excellent visibility.
Okay... Buffy and Faith were both in that building over there – with Kakistos approaching rapidly. This was bad, there were vampires all around, six, no seven of them, not including Khaki Trousers, as Buffy had apparently referred to him. Hm. They weren't all together, they were staggered around. He looked around, assessing locations and the layout of the buildings. Crap. He heard a crash of breaking glass and Buffy and Faith came into view, running hard. But from the layout of the place... they were running into an ambush. Kakistos was smarter than he looked, which, as he came into view, was ugly as hell. Flunkies walked behind him.
"Okay," said Xander quietly, "Time for a plan." Flank them, get in hard while they thought they were just dealing with two Slayers, and then mix it up with them. Three against eight was bad odds. So, he had to reduce those odds. Leaping down he swung off the end of the fire escape and hit the ground running.
Faith was afraid. Oh god, was she afraid. Kakistos, the thing that had murdered Horry, the nearest thing she'd had to a mother since her real one had been put away for five to ten, was hunting her. She looked to one side. Buffy was there. The blonde had it all here, was impossibly perky, was impossibly staid when it came to the joys of slaying, but she was glad she was here. Faith gripped the piece of wood in her hand convulsively. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, she thought despairingly. Should have told them all the truth. Should have told them that the thing was on his way. But he had beaten her so easily that she was embarrassed by the whole thing. She didn't want to remember what had happened. She certainly didn't want to remember Horry's screams. Dear old Horry, with her muffins and the smell of old perfume, reduced to a bloodied hulk.
She shuddered and then caught sight of a vampire to one side. Another one was next to it and the two Slayers veered away down the alleyway. As Buffy had said earlier, escape first, then slay. They turned a corner and stopped dead. There was no way out of the alleyway.
"They herded us," said Buffy in an angry voice. Then she span around. "Faith, we have to fight here. You can do it, Faith, you can fight him."
She felt her face crumple slightly as the fear shot through her. No. She couldn't fight him then and she couldn't fight him now. He was too strong. Too strong. There was a growl from behind her and she turned. Three vampires were rushing straight at them.
Buffy grabbed one and threw him against the wall before grappling with him, Faith staked the other one as it came close and the third... there was a whizzing noise as a sword came out of the night at neck height and decapitated the vampire. The weird thing was that the sword then whizzed around back the way it had come and snacked into the outstretched hand of one of Buffy's friends, the other almost silent one. Xander wasn't it? He grinned at her and then, turning with incredible speed, hacked the arm off a passing female vampire, which didn't even have time to scream before he then hacked her head off.
Buffy was still busy with her assailant and Faith was about to go to help when a cold and cloven hand reached out and grabbed the back of her neck.
"Hello again, Faith," said a gravelly voice behind her and she sobbed with fear. Kakistos. The hand moved backwards slightly and then she was flying across the alleyway, the wall ahead coming towards her... and then something was there, the very air seemed to catch her and turn her and pull her away from the wall.
Falling to her knees she looked up. Xander was standing there, one hand raised towards her and a look of deep concentration on his face. She gaped at him incredulously.
"Here," he said, and the sword he was carrying flew though the air to land at her feet. "Try that," and then he ducked under the flailing fist of the vampire that had been creeping up behind him before spinning in midair and kicking him so hard that he flew yards back and sprawled.
Faith grabbed the sword, rolled forwards and came to her feet to stare at Kakistos, who was also staring at Xander. "What are you, human?" he ground out and then brought his attention back to Faith.
Too late; the moment that she saw that his attention was elsewhere, she struck. The sword sheared through the thick muscles in his neck, lodged on his spine and then slid free. Kakistos screamed as the blood spurted and fell to his knees, clutching at the wound. Faith stepped up and grasped the sword more tightly. "This is for Horry," she spat and then struck again. This time the sword made it all the way though. The ancient vampire's head rolled off his shoulders and he crumbled to dust.
Faith stood there, tears rolling down her face. Then she shakily pushed her hair back from her face and looked at Xander, who had just staked the vampire he had been fighting and was coughing the dust away. "Cool sword," she smiled. She was five by five now.
"Nah, you should have seen the one I had before," he replied and then span to throw his stake. It seemed to speed up in the air, hitting the vampire in the chest and sending him the way of his compatriots.
"How..." she began and then stopped as he walked forwards and put his finger on his lips.
"Let's just say the force is with me," he muttered, smiling, and then looked over at Buffy, who was in the middle of what looked like a major ass- kicking of her opponent. There was a half-scream and the vampire exploded into dust.
The blonde looked over. "Xander?"
"Hey Buff. Giles thought you might need some help."
"Wowzer, how'dya find us?"
Faith was about say that the guy thought that the force was with him, when he looked at her and shook his head ever so slowly. Then he turned back to his friend. "I went towards the sound of the slayage, Buff. What else?"
Major McDermott sighed as he caught sight of Colonel Harrison. The guy looked serious as he strode up to him, the clipboard in one hand.
"Tom," said Harrison.
"Good evening sir," he replied.
"This is a major screwup Tom, the Brass is screaming about it from here to the Pentagon. A shipment of supplies gets waylaid, and by HSTs by all accounts!" He held his hand out to stop McDermott's protests. "I know, I know, the orders said minimal personal involvement and to use civilian equipment to appear inconspicuous. Well, it looks like we screwed up. Armstrong's family have been informed and at least we got the bulk of the shipment back intact. But still, this is bad, Board of Enquiry bad."
"I protested standing orders, sir, the record will show that."
"I know, and I'm fighting in your corner for this, Tom," replied the black Colonel. "But we still have a shipment waylaid, a man dead, a truck wrecked and the most advanced piece of equipment in the country gone, on your watch. What did Riley say about the voice on the radio again?"
"American, young, with knowledge of HSTs, he said. And the forensic department said that the remains of two vampire HSTs were scattered around the truck."
"Well. Good. Fact remains, there will be a Board of Enquiry though. And although I think they'll acquit you, I think that you will be posted somewhere else after."
McDermott pulled a face. He was hoping to stay on and see to the further growth of the base. After all, he'd been there from day one.
"If they do post me, who'd get command, sir?"
"Walsh. Apparently Maybourne's been pressing for her to get the nod."
McDermott pulled another face. He didn't trust Walsh, but no-one else in the chain of command seemed to share his feelings. Frankly the scientist freaked him out. She had an obsession with dissecting HSTs.
"Well then," he said slowly. "Let's do this thing."
Standing at the desk in the library Xander gently pushed the cooling rod into place and let out a quiet breath of relief. After all the evening's excitement he was finally able to get back to working on his lightsabre. He had modified the superconductor he had requisitioned from the truck carefully, installing cooling rods that he had jerry-rigged out of a quintet of thin quartz crystals and a tiny condenser pump that he had manufactured out of spare parts.
Connecting up the superconductor to the power cell he carefully fitted everything into the main casing and aligned it all. A wonky lightsabre beam would be a menace. The recut sapphire was in place in the holding arms and he snapped everything together.
Giving it all one last check-up he closed the mounting shut and then picked it up. It felt good, the right weight, the right balance. Question was, would it work? If it didn't, there would be a large hole in the ground with Xander- bits strewn around. He quashed that thought. He had checked and double- checked and, yes, triple-checked everything at every stage of production. He was still nervous though.
He walked to the centre of the library and looked down at the lightsabre. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his free hand. Then he thumbed the switch. With that familiar low hum of power the blue blade extended itself and he grinned like a school kid, remembering the first time that he had seen a lightsabre in A New Hope.
The blade buzzed through the air as he weighed it up and then he fell into the second advanced defensive position before swinging into the third and then fourth.
Xander Harris smiled. He felt complete for the first time since Halloween. He was a Jedi Knight.
