The two weeks of school following the Master's defeat saw the wholesale evacuation of Sunnydale by vampires and most other demons, rumors of the Slayer and her Death-Wraith allies wiping out the Master and two hundred undead in a night raced ahead and throughout the coastal towns to LA. The Hellmouth wasn't a welcoming place this summer.
The reality had been different, but the results were pretty amazing. Between the tunnel firefights and the battle for the high school, Hondo estimated around a hundred vampires had been dusted, 30 wallets, 12 paid off and 15 stolen vehicles reclaimed, 12 motel room keys leading to gear and assets, 10 cold case closures (the 8 vamps were suspects and 4 were victims), 15 handguns, 25 knives and enough cash to cover the paperwork were yielded. Also, sadly, 15 runaway cases were put to rest from identification and clothes.
They hadn't lost anyone, miraculously enough, but the next day after paying his hospital expenses, Xander'd handed Hondo all but a thousand dollars to cover the armor, ammunition and other attrition experienced in the fighting and training of the last month. Additionally, the entire SWAT team, hurting from bruises, stressed joints and ribs, aching backs and a lot of scrapes, had had to insist on light duty "after discovering a major and previously unknown criminal conclave operating along the coast, but based in Sunnydale suspected of being responsible for over three dozen serious crimes throughout Southern California." The paperwork alone kept them busy, and the favorable publicity always needed by their superiors had kept LAPD from looking too closely into matters, except a request placed quietly on the desk of the Police Academy Superintendent.
Xander had caught all sorts of female hell the next day when the girls found out that after the dance and dropping them off, he'd driven to the hospital and kept overnight for observation. Fourteen heavily stressed but not fractured ribs, four large head ruises just under the hair, two partial bites in the left calf and right bicep, and six sprained muscles had finally overcome his canine ability to persist, and the berserk adrenaline efforts had actually dehydrated him and fatigued his system by the time. Bare-chested in bed, it had been an interesting shock when the first visitors had been not the scoobies, but Cordelia and the Cordettes, bringing flowers, a new black silk shirt and slacks, godivas and espresso. While being cooed over for saving them the other night was nice, he felt he'd been in a dream or nightmare to suddenly be treated as one of their own. And even he'd noticed his musculature was appreciated by the cheerleaders before they left.
School had been fine, Principal Flutie returning to end the year and force Xander into the tests they'd discussed. Grades for the quarter were A's and B's, with a B average for the year including makeup exams and GED scores were used to justify replacement grades. Extracurricular nighttime activity evaporating, Xander's social life picked up, and he began mingling freely amongst all the popular groups and introduced his friends into some of them before year's end.
Xander had not really planned out his summer activities beyond improving his skills, when the last day arrived and he found his uncles and the scoobies waiting for him outside of school, minus Angel.
"What's up guys?" Xander Harris asked suspiciously. "Why're all of you here?"
"W-Well Xander, we decided you needed some time off," Giles answered. "And as Buffy is heading to LA this summer, and others are vacationing, you should as well. Your uncles decided to surprise you, and while we don't know where you're going, we're here to send you off, yes."
Looking at the packed convertible, Xander smiled in amazement. "I'm actually getting out of Sunnydale for a while? Wow."
The near-dozen girls hugging him good bye, even Harmony (?!) overwhelmed him a bit, causing a happy sheen in his eyes. Cordelia gave him a brief hug, chiding him, "Go on, Harris. Don't forget how to dress over the summer, and don't become a loser again."
"Gee, Cordelia," Xander smirked without malice, "I didn't know you cared."
"I just don't want to see our good deed go to waste," she retorted without bite, Harmony adding as the Cordettes headed away, "and don't lose the muscley chest." Xander half-shuddered and blushed as the scoobies laughed, though Amy and Willow both side embraced him possessively as they escorted him to the car.
As they left the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign behind them, 'Street' handed back to Xander a large manila envelope of paperwork. Opening it, Xander looked through the papers, brochures and even glanced through the manuals for about twenty minutes before broaching the subject.
"Why do I have acceptance kits for the LA County Law Enforcement Academy Intensive six –week training program and six weeks of nighttime SWAT exercises when I'm not even eighteen?" The two men snickered, and Hondo sighed as Street explained.
"Sanchez and Deke'd accidentally left their mini-cams on when we headed into the tunnels, and if you remember they backed up you and Angel. When filing our reports, one of the review specialists happened to come across it and passed it on to his old friend the Commandant of Cadets, who he knew to have a nasty set of bite marks on his neck from an 'animal attack.' When he called us in, he showed us the neck, handed us the tapes and asked that they be more careful, and asked us about you. We explained without names, and he handed us your packets with only the personal information left blank."
"B-but why?" Xander asked, amazed. "I just did what had to be done; it's not like I really thought about it."
"That's not true, Xander," Hondo said taking over from Street. "He wants to make sure you don't become as bad as what you're fighting, and the fact that an 18th century vampire was taking direction from a teenager. So, based on your current term in high school, Bob successfully cramming for your perfect-score GED this week, you'll be in the July-August intensive sessions rather than the year-long. You'll be correspondenced the remaining academics during your next year of high school for anything you don't complete."
"I still don't understand this sudden...windfall," Xander sighed, "but something's telling me I should agree. Um, but what about when...I...lost it and went after Darla and the Master. I don't want to hurt anyone accidentally."
"That's exactly why, and why we're all insisting," Hondo interrupted. "You have the right instincts and skills to be a good cop, especially SWAT. Maybe not detective work, but who knows? The important thing is that you learn the control so that a man in blue never has to bring you in, understand?" The young man nodded, the responsibility mounting. "And to lower your profile, you'll be registered under your grandfather's name, John Alexander Clayton, while you're here and go by 'Alex.' Most of your training will be field-oriented, not investigation oriented, though when possible, we'll get you through as much of that as the team can."
"And who knows?" Street added. "Maybe we can even get you through the bookwork to get certified."
"Um, cool, I guess...the team?" Xander asked. "Do you mean your guys Uncle Street?"
"Yeah," Street nodded. "After your performance in Sunnydale, all six of us decided to make you our project, fifteen hours per day, after your next couple of weeks. During the next two weeks, you'll be taught meditation and that kind of thing by a shaman we found working with the father of a friend in the 101st precinct."
"A shaman, why?" Xander asked. "And, boy did you guys get into this hard and fast."
"Well, Alex," Street admitted, "Once Sanchez saw you take out that Darla vampire, she remembered some of her mother's stories and managed to explain you to her. To make a long story
not too much longer, Nana Sanchez explained that until this last generation, the name Boca Del Inferno was sufficient to keep Hispanics out of your town, and that's why there are so few in that area. Amongst tales of Depression-area crime-fighting wrestlers thwarting El Robotico Del Diablo, Nana pointed out a few remaining real bruja that might help us out with your gifts. So, Alex, we found you an ex-Special Forces shaman named Sherman Blackstone that'll be taking you away for the first weeks, and then maybe weekends to maximize your inner wolf 'without losing your humanity.' The quotes are his. He and the other guy'll have you for 10 hours a day, then we're going to get you're book learning going for 5-6 hours a day. Whew, that was a mouthful."
"Wow, those are long hours...I'll give it a try," Alex allowed, curious and adrift in a good way."
"Good," Hondo approved, Street nodding. "Because the way you've thrown yourself into fighting these things and managing to turn your grades around has been phenomenal, Alex." The young man blushed and looked away briefly, but Street caught it. "Hey," the cop remonstrated, "no back-sliding in confidence. Accept the credit and the blame due, but no more...and think of it this way, your schedule's only going to be 2-3 hours longer per day then now, and when the monsters come back in the autumn, you'll be prepared to keep your team...pack...whatever...alive."
The next two weeks were weirder than discovering the truth about Slayers and Vampires. The shaman turned out to be a 'Wolfen' a wolf shape-shifter of a small clan just north of Sunnydale in the mountains of Wolf Lake. Sherman hadn't gone into any details, revealing none of the secrets of his pack, so Xander kept questions to generalities. And the detective's father...hooo-boy...that was unexpected...
Flashback
"And Alex, this is Master Kane," Sherman Blackstone gestured politely at an older mostly-oriental man, "he will be focusing on the meditation and the deeper issues of the Spirit itself, while I'll advise you on the particulars of the wolf."
"Pleased, to meet you Master Kane," Xander responded, bowing slightly then offering his hand to shake. The older man took it.
"Alex," Master Kane greeted, maintaining the grasp as he stared searchingly into Xander's eyes. "You...fight the things that avoid the day. This is commendable. I...sense in you the capability to truly tap your inner abilities. With Sherman's... permission...I will add Kung Fu as part of your focusing meditation after you master the basics."
"Um, thank you, Master Kane," Xander replied, unsure of the situation. "Any help is welcome."
End Flashback
Master Kane's Place Three Weeks Later
"Well...Alex," the Shaolin priest, began, "you seem to have achieved our goal for tapping the power of your greater self while remaining true to who you are. Sherman and I are very pleased." Kane walks across the room to get something.
"Yes we are, Alex," the Native American shaman continued, but now is the time for us to head into the wilderness and let your wolf-self range, within limits you set. You already notice how dogs and such are attuned to you when you go out. They sense the Spirit."
"And Alex," Kane addresses him, returning. The Shaolin hands him a small pouch on a necklace. "This contains wolf clippings, a drop of werewolf's blood, a drop of great wolf blood, and a drop of Sherman's blood both as human and wolf in form. The Ancient One, and a most honored Alchemist of the Xing Ron Clan have brought this together and needs only a drop of your blood during Sherman's ritual tonight to focus your control..."
"Excuse me, Master," Xander asked quietly. "Who are the Xing Ron, if I may ask?"
"They are a clan committed to the destruction of vampires, after a slayer of their lineage was killed brutally by a master vampire ninety-four years ago. They added a drop of reconstituted blood of their daughter-slayer for empowerment. When approached for assistance, and when they found out you fought alongside a slayer, they insisted on this pouch specifically for your spirit quest."
Xander and Sherman had driven up from LA to Wolf Lake, only twenty-minutes north along the highway from Sunnydale. As they'd started out, Sherman remembered he'd left something at his apartment, and needed to retrieve it for their trip. When they arrived, the shaman asked Xander to stay with the car as he himself went into his home to retrieve materials they'd need. Legs tired, Xander stepped out of the vehicle and leaned against it.
Two men walked down the street from a parked car, and as they passed to approach Sherman's home, they and Xander seemed to focus on each other, sensing like presences. The leader of the two stopped, sending his protégé onward.
"Who are you?" the older man demanded. "And what are you doing with Sherman Bridgestone?"
Xander stared at the man who was in posture attempting to establish control over the situation...over him. This was not to be tolerated. "I suggest you introduce yourself, explain why it is your concern...and back off before I have to do something you'll regret me doing to you," Xander replied, calling up the full Wolf Spirit, eyes flashing slightly behind his sunglasses.
The other, Willard Cates, backed away in astonishment, the power and pheromones given off by this youth compelling him to take a less-threatening stance before he caught himself. Xander took a slow step toward him, removing the shades and a gesture resembling a halfway offering a hand to shake.
"I'm not a threat to your pack," Xander very quietly and deliberately assured the man. "But Sherman is assisting me with matters important to mine. So call off your...chihuahua...and settle your internal matters after I leave town. Fair enough?"
"I suppose it will have to do," Cates responded, realizing that the concerns he had with Bridgestone were small compared to starting a conflict with an unknown clan. He gestured to the other man, who was about to attack Sherman, to withdrawal. "Until later, it can wait."
"Good," Xander nodded. "Sherman was explaining things regarding your...people, saying you were not threat, but capable for your small numbers. My clan is not in the mood for petty street fighting."
The shaman was quiet until they pulled up on the far side of a cemetery in Wolf Lake. Xander had been either sleeping or studying ahead for the police training. Both were sure they'd not been followed by Cates or his people.
"Alex, what was that about?" Sherman asked, still a bit off-balance. "How did you make him back down like that?"
"I let him feel me power up when he played Alpha," Xander replied stone-faced. "I let him feel what a True Alpha is like, then told him to postpone his business with you until after I'm done with mine. Let him know my clan wasn't necessarily interested in his small clan."
"Oh, great," the Wolfen shaman complained. "I'll get to deal with it later."
"Better then unless you wanted me to drop them on the front walk? And...you could always change clans," Xander said, looking him in the eye. "You know what we fight..."
They both quietly headed into the oldest point of the cemetery, dating back nearly a hundred years, but strangely filled with a large number of teenaged occupants from the last couple decades.
Xander kept watched as the older man redrew a ritual circle atop one previously there, his methods combining what he'd expected, with some things he'd expect to see Giles or Kane undertake. As everything seemed to be ready, Sherman caught his look.
"While the ceremony is ours, I'm relying on other traditions to ward off intrusion, and to reinforce whatever happens inside. That is what you saw me redo. The extra fetishes and figurines at the points were given to me by Kane and the Xing Ron for extra focus. Please step into the circle and sit across from me where the lines intersect."
Xander did as instructed, feeling calmer as he sat down. Sherman had him place the pouch in front of him, and to meditate and to focus on the wolf spirit but not power up while the ceremony proceeded. When the time for him to do something was necessary, he'd be asked.
The shaman calls on the Spirits of his ancestors, at Wolf Lake in a ceremony used to determine clan and placement, a totem to be offered and the appropriate respondent in range to visit the dream fireside. Xander is visited by dozens of animals, including apes and elephants, lions and horses in addition to the Wolf Lake contenders for clan leadership. Cates, the current leader, looks especially confused, remembering a similar ceremony from decades ago, but as it's not his dream, he can do nothing but watch. Sherman, who walked on the edge of the dream but could not interfere, looked on in amazement, never had he seen or heard of more than a single animal. Alex was being visited by animals not native to the area. And the other thing, Alex wasn't morphing into a wolf, or any other as expected. Rather, he is building in muscle, dense and sinewy, lean from experience, strong from the demands placed on it by natural environments.
Even as this continues for a while, Sherman reaches over in dream and reality, opens up the pouch and hands a knife to Alex, indicating a pricked thumb for a drop of blood into the pouch contents. This done, the shaman chants over the pouch, disturbed that he can hear other chanting nearby. Dumping the contents of the pouch into the fire to seal the ceremony at its end, Xander lets out a slow deep whimper of pain as he starts to wake up fully. Hurling a bowie knife with great effort a scream splits the darkness as Xander clutches his chest, then his head before falling to his back unconscious
Sherman hears the whimper, then the scream of pain outside of the circle, "my eye!" He raced over to Alex's side as he heard the shattering of pottery and the loud noise of a wounded man stumbling away in the darkness.
Xander wakes to the feel of fur against his legs and back, and the voice of Sherman talking to either an animal or small child. Opening his eyes, the young man finds himself in the center of the missing pack of great wolves from the Sunnydale Zoo. They've apparently moved in to share the campsite, and he can smell that the pack has brought a freshly-killed dear to be eaten, and that some of it is being roasted for breakfast. Shifting slightly, the wolves let him break free to take a seat on a large rock.
"I'm feeling particularly crappy," the beefed up Xander declared quietly. "I'm also getting the feeling that something didn't go according to plan."
"You could say that again," the Graham Greene look-alike said, "but please don't." He smirked as he thwarted one of Alex's standard responses. Continuing seriously, the shaman reported his observations during the ceremony, and that they'd not been alone.
"Someone was out in the bushes, and I found candles shielded form our view and a shattered statue of some kind. Whoever it was, used magic I've not encountered before." Pausing to let that sink in, the shaman continued, "You wounded him pretty good, apparently in the eye from the screaming he'd let out before running away. Whatever it was seemed to be changing you. Normally, in the dream, you'd take on the aspects of the animal, but instead this seemed to taking the strength within and bringing out. You have long-healed scars barely noticeable you didn't before. Do you remember anything at all I would not have seen?"
Xander looked around at the wolves comfortably resting next to a mausoleum wall. Staring at them, he could sense and feel them, telling them apart. He recognized the beta, concentrated, and gestured from the wolf to the remaining carcass.
:Go ahead and eat. I will eat the cooked meat the shaman has prepared: The great wolf bowed slightly and lead the others to eat.
"Well," he said. "I seem to be able to think at wolves, and they seem to understand. I don't know how much..."
"Some of the oldest shamen can do that with years of experience," Sherman replied, nodding, "Anything else?"
"Africa, where jungle meets savannah," the youth struggled to remember, "I remember reading and learning from old and worn books, and I remember animals of the types in my dream being there, naturally, wild. The scents, the sounds...and then I remember being in khaki, with sword and rifle and service revolver. I was providing back up for a girl who moved like the cheetah...and we were in a deep cave system, hunting something...and that's when it ended."
"You do realize that last part was spoken like those British guys in Star Wars, right?"
""Really?" Alex pondered. "Maybe I was...a Watcher...and the girl a slayer...it feels right, Sherman. I was older, but feel like I do now, energized and attuned to my surroundings. If I remember more, I'll discuss it with Giles when I get back to Sunnydale. And maybe by then we'll have figured out who the stranger was."
"I bagged the statue, we can drop it off and have him reassemble it at some point, give us an idea of what he was trying to do."
Xander, Sherman and the wolves moved to a deep remote location off the game trails by nightfall, and spent the next week intensively meditating, working out, hunting singly and as a pack. The shaman adapted Xander's nascent aikido and kung fu skills as the center of the Special Forces techniques he'd chosen as the fighting focus for the Wolf-Man: Brutal Defense, and even included wrist claws and boot-spikes for emphasis. Constantly Alex found himself wearing forty to fifty pounds extra on his body to keep up the muscle tone and strength as he undertook mastery of his new skills and abilities.
Pushing into the rage zones and beyond while maintaining control became the core focus of any activity, whether it was climbing trees or rock faces without equipment, or using the focus techniques for tremendous displays of strength and stamina in the midst of hunting, Xander and his 'hunting group' bonded and began to adapt to the characteristics of the others. It was with some regret, they packed up and headed back to Los Angeles, wolves and all.
Classes at the Academy were a breeze, especially the physical skills and endurance. While generally friendly, Alex's SWAT training and tutored studying kept him busy in the eveningsand away form social distractions. His grades were in the top ten percent in classroom and tops in the non-classroom. Sanchez and the others were amazed at how fast he seemed to master Spanish, and his weekends with Kane and the Xing Ron (who had decided not to return to the Orient until Alex headed back to Sunnydale) honed the bladed and unarmed modes of combat they'd worked on as the best and fastest to master against the demonically strong.
Sherman explained the occurrences in Wolf Lake to them, leading to a great deal of research. They'd determined some form of dis-balancing magic had been invoked, and that the pottery likeness was of Mediterranean origin. They believed that considering the spiritual nature of the ceremony, perhaps Alexander was undergoing either a past-life experience, or due to the slayer's blood in the pouch, that of a watcher of great personal similarity to Alex himself. As it had taken hold at the transformation portion of the ceremony, it had unforeseen result. The real questions were who, why and did the stranger seek to transfer the power to himself? And did Alex's 'predatory act' mean that the stranger was an evil shaman?
Xander preferred not to consider it too closely if the 'experts' didn't know where to begin. August came and with it the winding down of his training and his schooling in police work. Even the vampires of Sunnydale seemed attractive compared to another week of incessant summer learning. He didn't really gain any greater perspective on whose memories he'd experienced, but over time he discovered he had nearly perfect recollection of the two hundred or so books 'he' had read, most being in Romance languages, Latin or Greek, and covered much of late 19th century knowledge of Africa, and the best of its literature and that of the classical period. Rousseau in 18th century French, Darwin, Marx in High German and English, Disraeli's autobiography, Boetius in post-Fall Latin, Homer in Classical Greek, and more. It was fascinating, though he found himself using Giles-like sentences when not paying too great attention.
Those in the know had all cautioned Alex to keep things as quiet and secret as possible, but as graduation day approached, he'd insisted that a few adults be informed of the goings-on. So the Friday evening before school started saw a diverse and notable crowd of people in attendance for him, a pair of old and berobed Shaolin priests, a half-dozen very dignified and richly suited Taiwanese businessmen, four legendary nanas reputed as peacekeepers and brujas in the Latino community, an Indian shaman, the kick-ass SWAT team in California, a detective out of the 101st precinct known for handing weird cases successfully, three faculty members from Sunnydale and a guy dressed all in black.
The ceremony was painless, and the Sunnydale residents had been shocked and amazed at the event to which they'd been driven. Principal Flutie walked up with only the tiniest residual limp, and actually (but in a manly manner) hugged the graduate as the others came up behind him.
"Alexander," the Sunnydale school administrator beamed. "I'm so proud of you I could burst! I told you all you needed was focus, some athletic effort and commitment. Look at you! I'm changing your schedule to all AP and College Prep courses when I get back, if you're still attending. We might just get you most of a degree by graduation."
"I certainly hope that's the case, Bob," a friendly male voice agreed from Xander's right side.
"Mayor Wilkins!" Bob Flutie acknowledged with surprise. "Please meet Alexander. This is the student that Mr. Giles, Ms. Calendar a-and Mr. Angel tutored last Spring after the...er... troubles." An older 1950's-looking gentleman came forward with a few others.
"Why, hello, Alexander," Richard Wilkins beamed, offering a firm handshake. "We had another student of Sunnydale origin graduate, and I was delighted to see a few more familiar faces. Top of the class, I see. Oh, how rude of me, let me present Mr. Holland (a smile and nod), Ms. Morgan (an appreciative glance and nod) and Mr. McDonald (a polite nod), from Wolfram & Hart here in Los Angeles...Anyway, have Bob give you my number, we're always looking for good solid young people to liaise between police and their peers. And since you're a legal adult, maybe a part-time job after school."
"Gee, sir," Xander responded, shocked. "Thank you."
"No, Alexander," the Mayor of Sunnydale responded. "I know this will benefit my plans for Sunnydale in the years to come. Thank you." And shaking hands again for a picture taken by Detective Stein, the Mayor and his entourage then left.
"Wow," Xander responded, "Who saw that comin'?"
The non-Sunnydalers approached, congratulating the young graduate, before heading out, leaving Hondo, Street, Flutie, Jenny, Giles and Angel, before the Principal headed out with the Mayor, who'd offered him a ride back while they discuss the new school year at Sunnydale High.
"X-Xander, my boy," Giles addressed, beaming, "I can't convey how terribly proud I am of you right now. Even with intensive tutoring, your achievement is your own." They shared an awkward one-arm side-hug. Ms. Calendar, less reserved, enthusiastically hugged the young man, who blushed slightly.
"Oooo, nice build, Alexander," the gypsy beauty smiled teasingly. "I'm sure the girls will be after you when you get back." Then, more serious, she added, "Congratulations."
"Thank you both," Xander responded. "It means a lot that you were able to share this. Now, I'd like to talk to Angel for a minute before heading out." With that, the young man was left with the souled vampire, who'd actually added a tie, black of course, to his usual ensemble.
"Okay, Xander," Angel began, "I know we're not exactly friends..."
"And that can change, D—Angel," the young man interrupted as they very slowly followed after the others. "When I underwent the shamanistic ritual to better understand the Wolf Spirit I'd blended with, it allowed me to appreciate—somewhat—the demon inside of you. Mine is rage, not a separate entity, though it's easier to explain it that way, but the rage I'd let power up in the Master's lair gave me a little insight. The dead thing, it still bothers me. But maybe we can find a way to get along anyway. Just---no mouth kissing of Buffy when I'm around, it's not a jealous thing, it's the deadness thing. So, as I said back before my Summer o' Learnin' if you two move slow, I won't have to stake you..." And with that Alexander Harris offered a genuine handshake to Angel, who after the initial shock wore off, returned it.