Let me tell you, I was tired. I don't mean physically tired or lack of sleep tired. I was tired down into my soul. I am Alexander Lavelle Harris, right? One of the few things I remember...as Xander...was that we are the sum of our experiences, I guess memories and scars, the emotional and otherwise. If so, was I still...Xander. I half-hated, half-enjoyed being referred to as a Xander-shaped friend. But isn't that what I've become? The music playing in the background of my mind was settling into the background...when someone else I lost myself in the music. I think I'll go one more time, see if I can get it right this time, and maybe see why Giles was heading into that costume shop. I'll ask in this next Saturday morning.
Repeating my money-accruing method of drive and steal, I decided to see if I could find what I wanted at Hiram's, and I think that my target figure might be able to be smart enough to put things in perspective. Knowing there weren't any cops, I sped like the Master himself was after me.
The door rang brighter than he remembered as he walked in, and Xander walked up to the older gentleman and simply asked what he had in uniforms and badges.
"Can I help you young man?" the proprietor asked, an older Jewish man asked. "We have quite a selection, you know."
"Yeah, I'm looking for a World War Two signal corps uniform, as close to it as you can help me anyway," Xander replied, "And I thought this might be the place to find it."
"Hmmm," the older man pondered, "I believe I have the plain outer jacket of the infantry corporal, plus the hat. But I only have two of the badges. How about an old signal kit? It doesn't really work, but it once really was used for sending messages, coded or otherwise."
"I guess I'll try it," Xander nodded, and being told a price, paid the man. He hurried back to Ethan's. Originally he was going to try that Party Time store, but it was just a little too far and too late.
At four o'clock sharp Xander was leaving the shop, dressed out and equipped as a World War Two soldier, with some of the insignia he'd wanted. Still, he'd keep the books in his rucksack, maybe they'd be enough, after all one of them was signed. He also got rid of everything he thought might have thrown off his purposeful attempt at a possession. 'That just doesn't seem right,' the mentally tired young man sighed. He'd also managed to forget to take out the letters of 'immortal stuff' he'd written before leaving school, but did now so as not to throw off the spell.
Xander headed into the library to check on Phil again. He was still doing fine, though Buffy and Willow were a bit put out with him over not meeting them as planned as he met up with them at kiddy pick up.
"Hey, I needed to improve my costume," Xander replied, coming over to them, as they rolled their eyes, "Now I'm World War Two soldier guy. Look, guns and everything. Hey, I got a funny feeling about tonight. Willow, take this sword and letter, you are now Willow Devereaux, Immortal friend to Lady Elizabeth, the Vampire Slayer of 1775."
He helped them properly affix, meaning he caused Willow to blush as he pulled the sheet away from her and over a wall.
This time, as tired as he'd been, Xander had gotten the kids back to school and his butt in a Library chair with Giles sitting across from him, tome in front of him, when the change occurred.
"Gevalt!" the young man sitting across the table from Rupert Giles called out, knocking over a glass of water.
"Xander," Giles began, perturbed, "I do wish you'd be more careful around the books." The librarian rose to find a towel behind the counter.
"Excuse me, sir," Xander began. "But my name's not Alexander. Though I do apologize for the spill."
Giles blinked for a moment, the distinct speech patterns and inflections of Xander Harris were gone from the person in front of him, as were the mannerisms. Also, the old equipment was now new and apparently ready for utilization, and the uniformed also seemed new and pressed.
"I'm Rupert Giles," the librarian introduced himself, "and while you physically appear to be Alexander Harris, I take it you're not...Mister..."
"Asimov, Doctor Isaac Asimov," Xander replied, "Oh, and a corporal in the Signal Corps. You mean this Alexander and I are doppelgangers?"
"No, I'm afraid that you are currently in control of Alexander's body," Giles grimaced sympathetically, and reaching for one of the many hand mirrors he kept around, handed it over to the confused Doctor Asimov.
"Gevalt!" Xander/Asimov exclaimed, "How can this be?"
"I-I don't really know," the librarian conceded, "but what was the last thing you remember? And what was the, uh, date?"
"What? Oh, February 1st, 1946," Xander/Asimov replied, "and I was serving in the Army."
"Well, the, er, date is October 31st, 1997," Giles pointed out, showing a calendar, and the morning newspaper as evidence. "As to why, perhaps it has something to do with the fact that several hundred feet below you is a dormant dimensional portal leading to places that are very nearly Hell. The raw energies perhaps, altered reality?"
"Hmmm, other dimensions," the physicist pondered "Interesting." The physicist then noticed that the book in front of him was chronicling his current experience, though not in too great a detail.
"Mister Giles, this book seems to be writing itself," Asimov/Xander indicated. Giles looked at it, reading the cover, inside cover and glanced over the entries to date, Asimov looking also.
"Good Lord!" the Watcher exclaimed, "It appears that Alexander is repeating the same day over and over, and as he selects a different costume each time, he takes on the abilities, experiences and memories of the individual. Why on Earth hasn't he brought this to my attention?"
"So, I'm either an amnesiac spirit, or the energies of this dimensional passageway are warping reality to create such spirits retroactively?"
"Exactly, Doctor Asimov," Giles approved at the grasp of detail this individual had, "but at least you will be released within the day."
"Thank God for that," the physicist breathed with relief, "but just what shall I do to pass the time until then?"
"Would you like some tea?" Giles offered, "I have Earl Grey?"
"Excellent, thank you," the young man nodded, then excitedly, "We can then get to researching both this dimensional soft-spot and how it's effecting your young man. Just make sure we read our conclusions and bibliography out loud before time's up for me to go." Giles smiled, then chortled as he prepared tea. 'Xander Harris enthused over research...'
SHS Library 10:00 AM
A tired but intellectually energized Rupert Giles, coat off, tie off and shirt open to the chest, continued to postulate and argue with Xander/Asimov over the various attributes of the hellmouth, and the costume spell when Willow and Buffy entered the library using a spare key.
"I tell you, Alexander, that it works the other way," Giles stressed, "It is the combined radiations from the hellmouth that must be affecting some magical spell placed on the costumery, not a tap. That exacts far too great a drain on the caster, whereas passive redirection is the core technique."
"Rupert, I believe absolutely you must be correct in this," a confident, but tired Xander agreed. "Now the question is, who is the caster, and what is the dispersal or focal point for such energies. A lens, a mystical artifact, the ley lines that you say cross Sunnydale?"
Willow and Buffy stared wide-eyed amazement at the intellectual exchange between equals, tea and adult snackage on the table.
"Excuse us, Giles?" Buffy interrupted as she, then Willow dropped their swords on the table. "What are you two doing?"
"W-We're discussing the magical event that affected much of Sunnydale last night," Giles replied, "And the mechanics involved so we can plan accordingly."
"It was the new costume shop," Willow replied, her eyes slightly red from previous crying, "and our possessy people chased the owner out of town."
"Excellent work, both of you," Xander complimented. "Was it his departure that broke the spell?"
"No, Xander," Buffy replied somewhat peevishly, "it was knocking over a two-faced statue thingy that did it. He just ran away after."
"W-well done, Buffy, Willow," the librarian congratulated. "It seems Alexander has been repeating the same twenty-four hour period several times. Hopefully this will set things straight for him."
"Like in the movie, Xander?" Willow asked, shocked. "Is that why you made us take the swords and letters with us?"
"Yeah," Xander said, "I didn't think I'd have time to convince you, but I had to make sure both of you were going to be able to make it through the night while I called in Asimov to help with the research." He then read them Drusilla's forecast, and they tried to make sense of it.
"Hmmm, I don't know, Xan," Buffy said. "Maybe you need to keep trying until you get it right?"
"Or maybe learn to live your life the best you can?" Willow guessed, "But what about that Dru and Edith thing?"
"Maybe I'm supposed to become the best demon fighter guy?" Xander considered. "I mean, I've been doing pretty well, but..."
"I-Indeed you have, Alexander," Giles assured him, "But I'm still curious as to why you waited so long to inform us?" The young tired teen paused to gather his thoughts, making him look older than he was.
"The first time, I couldn't be sure it wasn't just a vivid dream," the thoughtful time-looper began, "Then, of course, I had no real leads at the time, and kinda liked picking up the music...I can feel it and hear it in the background." The young man looked restful, almost nodding off in his chair from multiple lifetimes of fatigue.
Xander woke up at Reset, sighing, but feeling better. He knew he should probably just sit the next few loops out to recover, but what if this were the last, and people died. 'Maybe I do this, break the statue, and then rest?'
A smile came over Xander as he grabbed the keys, fines money, Giles' jacket, sword, business cards and a back up pair of glasses. "I can figure this out by myself. Giles will be so proud of me."
"Hello?" Xander called out as he walked into the costume store, placing items on the counter.
"Yeah, I'm going to one of those roast-things, where you make jokes and tell stories about someone?" Xander explained, "I've managed to a hold of a few of Giles' things and plan on dressing as a younger version of him tonight, and since he's from England..."
"You thought I could help out?" Ethan smiled, hoping for a particular answer to his next question. "Ah, that wouldn't happen to be Rupert Giles would it?"
"You know G-Man?" Xander enthused. Maybe Willow and Buffy'd gotten the wrong guy. "Small world, huh?"
"Yes, indeed," Ethan replied, smiling like a predator, "How about I take those things and bring out a change of clothes like he wore at college? You could always throw the jacket on later. He never actually wore the thing until recently, but it always seemed to represent some responsibility or such." Ethan laughed inside as he technically told the truth.
"Sure, thanks, Brit-Guy," Xander laughed, annoying and indeed goading Ethan toward a much greater effort.
'We'll see who the Brit Guy is in a couple of hours, boy,' Ethan smirked as he went to work in the back room.
Xander arrived too late to link up with any of the gang, but managed to get on the road with the kids any way. He'd left his watch in Giles's car, and could only guess at the time. It was pleasant enough, if boring, watching the kids, better than Flanders or Sicily, and he was surprised to be wearing black leather pants, sporting an earring, carrying cigarettes, with a black leather vest and slinging a tweed coat over his shoulder. Glasses and other Giles-isms were secreted in the pockets. He was heading back to the library when the magic changed him again.
"Bloody Hell! What was that?!" Ripper Giles stormed, "And where AM I?" One minute he was with these two birds in their pad off Finsbury Circus, when he not only wasn't on his back enjoying himself, he was clothed with a detestable Watcher coat over his shoulder. Shivering with disgust and anger, he could almost smell the chaos magic...redirecting powerful black magic that permeated everything around him.
'A beautiful right feelin' though,' he admitted to himself, 'But I'll still have to kick around this town the pillock that did this to me.'
Ripper reached deep within himself, drawing the chaos and the dark within him as he searched his coat for the ingredients that would allow him to focus better, when he noticed his hands. 'What the...' he groused as he inventoried his face and body, 'not even in my own body, but at least that demon's mark is off. I'll just find some place to do a recall spell and find out everything about the lad, but first let's have a bit o' fun.'
Ripper let go at will with short bursts of raw magic at anything coming too close to him, sending a few nothing vampires to a final death and sending a singed close-cropped white-haired right bloke of a vampire away. He decided to follow and see where the pride-deflated individual would lead him.
'The Alibi Room,' Ripper mused, 'A more than passable play on words, especially for a demon bar, especially a yank one.' He went in, sword drawn, and as two vampires got up, he casually waved a backwards 'v' salute at them, "Arsum." The dust hadn't quite settled to the floor as he reached the rearmost booth and thumbed the two occupants out of it. They moved, one elbowing the slower on and whispering 'sorcerer' to it.
The barkeep shuffled over and stood with raised eyebrows as he waited. Ripper/Xander threw down forty dollars on the table.
"Bottle of decent single malt, and a decent beer for the singed vampire glaring at me," he ordered with a smirk.
Activity resumed in the bar as it became clear that ignoring the sorcerer meant being ignored by the sorcerer. Fair enough. Ripper sniffed the bottle and it matched the label, and with a little 'nudge' it was suddenly a hundred years older and at far better quality. He noticed the surprise as the glaring vampire's eyes grew wide as he received a free beer from the saloon keeper. It turned and saluted him with the drink with a half-smirk. Ripper waved him over.
"Thanks for the beer, mate," Spike addressed the apparent-youth as he sat down. "I guess I'll forget about earlier and all. Just help carried over from previous management."
Waving for a second glass for the vampire, Ripper turned to his drinking companion.
"Two things," he pointed at the beer. "By accepting the beer you've activated a spell. If you kill me or harm me on purpose, you'll explode." He watched as the vampire's eyes widen, then continued. "Other than that precaution, mate, drink up."
"I never would have expected one of the Slayer's friends to be a black mage or drink with vampires," Spike mused conversationally. "Do her or her bloody Watcher know?"
"No, they do not," Ripper replied, barely containing the disgust rising from his suspicion that he had something to do with his father's 'business.' "Especially as I'm his brother, not the slayer's friend. I'm checking up on him. I ran off to London a few years back and thought I'd return to the land of dark magic."
"Yeah, Sunnydale, Home Sweet Hellmouth, eh?" the vampire snarked, downing his beer as Willy dropped off a glass.
"So, my brother's a junior Watcher?" Ripper winced, pouring liquor into the other's glass. "What else do I need to know before I take him back home to London with me?"
"Oh, he doesn't have much in the way of fightin' skills, the Slayer's always handlin' that," Spike pointed at him with a full glass before downing it, "that's decent stuff, mate, thanks. Where was I, oh yeah, that is she's fightin' when not getting' some from Angelus."
"Wait, Angelus..." Ripper started, leading in slowly so the impatient vampire would finish for him informatively, "Isn't he..."
"...supposed to be a master vampire, Scourge of Europe and all that? Yeah," he finished the sentence with disgust and took a big sip of whiskey. "I tell ya, he used to have a bit o' crazy fun...village here... abbey of nuns there...bit o' arson thrown in...and now he makes that Watcher look like one of the bleedin' Sex pistols, let me tell ya."
"So which Watcher did they send, a Travers or such?" Giles sighed, sipping his own drink and topping both gasses off.
"Nah, some bloke named Rupert Giles," Spike informed the black mage, who downed his drink and a refill in succession. "Kinda prissy fella, really, never shows up to fight, always hanging around that school library."
"And where might I find this...Giles?" Ripper asked carefully, pushing the rest of the bottle toward the vampire as he got up from the booth. Spike, pouring himself another round, gave him directions.
"Oh, I believe this pencil's yours," Ripper remarked, squatting down and picking it up. Spike looked confused.
"Pencil," Spike asked, "Wha—"and turned to dust as Ripper yanked the writing instrument out of William the Bloody's chest and placed it over his ear. Not happy but needing release, the black mage focused much of his gathered energies, and as the demons in the bar noticed a chill in the air, a wave of his hand and black eyes were all the survivors remembered as they heard "Arsum Magnus" and five booths suddenly went up in flames as he stepped into the night.
Ripper walked down the main business street leading eventually to the high school library where he expected to find the boy in control of his body, then figure out a way to return to himself as he is now. Sirens and gunfire could be heard in the residential neighborhoods close by, but the only others out were a quite-edible red head and an old guy in a suit standing in the shadows near a costume shop.
He continued his approach, swaggering down the road to where they'd kicked in the door of the store. 'Might just be a good diversion before I kick my own arse,' he smirked. Stealthily, he made his way to the door, listening in. Hearing the couple move into a back room, he can just make out the proceedings as he stays just this side of the curtain. He sees a statue of Janus, and can guess the nature of the spell and caster even without the words from that room.
"Janus," Giles lectured Willow, "Roman mythical god."
"What does this mean?" the girl asked.
"Primarily the division of self," the Watcher indicated, "Male and female, light and dark."
"Chunky and creamy," Ethan smirked, entering from a room further back, "Oh, no, sorry, that's peanut butter." Giles stares at Ethan as though he's seen a ghost.
"Willow, get out of here, now," Giles orders.
"But..." Willow starts, hesitating.
"Now!" the man shouts.
She obeys him and goes, stepping through a shocked Ripper/Xander, turning around a moment later to see her friend walk into the confrontation.
"Hello, Ethan," Giles begins, coldly, clenching fists at his sides. Xander/Ripper comes up behind Giles quietly, shaking his head in disgust.
"Hello, Ripper," Ethan smiles, then laughs gleefully, "Rippers...What? No hug? Aren't you pleased to see your old mate, Rupert? Ripper?"
"I thought I'd just sit back and kill the winner myself," Xander/Ripper sneered, taking a seat on the counter and arranging items for a spell. "I've my own plans, Ethan, so I'll let the Old Miss handle his own affairs."
"I'm just surprised I didn't guess it was you sooner," Giles remarked, staring coldly at Rayne. "This Halloween stunt stinks of Ethan Rayne."
"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" the chaos mage smirked, "Don't wish to blow my own trumpet, but it's genius. The very embodiment of 'be careful what you wish for.'"
"It's sick, brutal, and it harms the innocent," Giles replied in disgust. "Break the spell, Ethan. Then leave this place and never come back."
"Why should I?" Ethan replied with a cocked eyebrow. "What's in the bargain for me?"
"You get to live," Giles responded, punching the mage in the gut with a left, making him double over, and follows up with a right to the face.
"Good to see I'm not a total waste in my doddering years," Ripper/Xander remarked, finishing his spell preparations.
"What are you doing there?" Giles asked, while kicking Ethan in the ribs. Willow looked in, Giles taking the moment to order her out again.
"Willow, go take care of Buffy!" Giles roared, "I'll meet the two of you in the Library tomorrow morning." This time the girl fled the scene.
"And you said the Ripper was long gone," Ethan remarked, mock-fondly.
"Tell me how to stop the spell," Giles demanded as they heard a spell being cast by Ripper/Xander. Giles impatiently kicks Ethan hard in the kidney, and he yells out in pain. "Now, tell me how to stop the spell."
"Janus," Ethan moaned, "Break its statue." Giles smashes the statue as Xander/Ripper's spell completes.