The next morning found Agent Cameron protecting herself from the light snowfall with an umbrella, Agent Stevens at her side near the White House back entrance. She gave a quick look to the huge black man, and could notice how utterly devastated he looked. Her earplug beeped, informing that a Mr. Harris was entering the premises. She acknowledged it, and waited.
In a few moments, a dark blue SUV was parking near her, while her mind kept remembering the file they had uncovered on Mr. Harris.
Alexander Lavelle (what kind of name is Lavelle, anyway?) Harris, born in Sunnydale, CA, before the town sunk and became Lake Sunnydale. Average guy, a bit less than average student, but with an Omega-encrypted military file. After a four-year stay in Africa, he was now living surprisingly in Washington, DC, and was the owner of a small but successful construction company, XDH Construction. And that was it. So, why did Mr. Giles indicate him?
The man who jumped out of the SUV didn't look much like the one on the file's photos. First, in none of them did he have the black eye patch that covered his left eye, or the well-trimmed goatee and mustache and the juvenile appearance was gone, in its place was a mature handsomeness that stirred something inside of Joy. He was well dressed for someone in the middle of Washington's winter, with thick jeans pants, hiking boots, a dark blue wool sweater and a dark brown parka. Around his neck, rested a small silver crucifix, visible under the wool scarf. Joy noticed some grays appearing in his hair and summarized everything in a single sentence in her mind, 'what a hunk'.
"Agent Cameron?" he approached, extending a gloved hand. She shook the hand. "Xander Harris."
That's when everything clicked in place. Damn, what a stupid agent she was! He was 'The' Xander Harris all the older Slayers kept telling about during her 'Summer Camp'. That's why Mr. Giles recommended him.
"A pleasure finally meeting you, Mr. Harris."
"Ho… ah, yes. Summer Camp," he said and grinned a – to her - very sexy grin.
"Yes. This is Agent Stevens, he was the one who found the, ah . . . victim."
Xander looked at the black man, and nodded with a saddened face. "I'm sorry, I know how those things go, sometimes."
The man only shook his head.
"Can we go in? Californian born and bred here, this cold is for polar bears," he said, smile returning to his face.
"Sure," Joy said.
They walked over to small door, and as soon as they were in the heated interior of the White House, Xander removed his gloves, displaying a wedding ring on his left hand and another strange silver ring on his right one. 'Damn,' Joy thought it over, eyeing the wedding ring.
"Come, over here," she said, pointing to a checkpoint. Xander went over a metal detector and was thoroughly searched. He wasn't carrying any weapons, only a wallet, his cell phone and key chain, so they were quickly released, Xander sporting a visitor tag on his parka.
"Where to, first?" he asked, eyeing the interior of the house.
"My superior wants to speak with you, and then I believe we should already have the reports on the autopsy," she said.
They walked through a maze of corridors and people frantically at work. Xander gave away a small snicker.
'What?" she asked.
"West Wing."
Joy smiled a bit. "We get that a lot around here, especially from the newbies."
They entered a large room, filled with Secret Service personnel, everyone in frantic activity. Before Xander had the chance to look anywhere, he was escorted to a side door. Agent Cameron knocked on it, and after a muffled "Come in," she opened the door and the duo followed her.
"Yes, Agent . . ." and then, Hollister saw the strange man standing behind her. "Ah, Mr. Harris, I would like to say this is a pleasure, but . . ." the Chief of House Security said, approaching and extending his hand. Xander shook it firmly.
"The feeling is mutual. I would have wanted to visit the White House on a tour, but I guess in my business you can't be picky," Xander said, but the grimace that followed had nothing humorous in it.
Hollister looked even more rumpled. He had foregone his suit's jacket, and his sleeves were folded almost to his elbows, the tie loosened as well. He sat back on his chair, the pile of papers on his desk making him look more like an accountant than the Secret Service Agent he was supposed to be.
"Well, Mr. Harris, I guess you know something about what happened in here."
"Giles just gave me a brief rundown. I would like to hear the entire story, if it is possible."
"Before we begin, I must stress out that this falls under the Secrecy Act, and must not be discussed outside the premises, or to other people. Is that clear?"
"Look, Mr. . . ." Xander started.
"Hollister."
"Look, Mr. Hollister, I would like us to begin on the right foot. You don't have to worry about a damn thing, because if I can keep my friends' secrets all this time, I surely can keep this mess out of anyone's ear. I won't take notes, I won't record a thing and I won't take a picture. So, every single thing that you have is yours. I just came here, to help, on your orders."
That didn't catch well with Hollister. Later on, he would admit it was the stress, right now he simply wasn't caring.
"And how do you intend to do that, Mr. Construction Worker?" Hollister asked, sneering. It really was the wrong thing to say.
"I believe we have a problem of faith here, even if some proof has been given to you," Xander said, eyeing the twisted bat. "Nice modern art. I have a chromed crowbar myself. I don't need to prove anything to you, but just to get the bullshit outta the way, you know I've been thoroughly prodded and searched when I arrived. Correct?"
Hollister looked him straight in the eye. "Of course, standard operating . . ." before he could blink, he had a FN Five-seveN automatic pointed right between his eyes, being held by the 'construction worker', "procedure."
In the same speed that the gun had appeared, it disappeared inside Xander's parka. The other two agents didn't even move a muscle. He held his hands sky high. "You want to do the frisking yourself, go ahead."
Hollister did exactly that, after he stopped shaking. They were supposed to face guns as a job, but no one is trained enough to eye one so closely pointed in one's direction. "How?" he asked, dumbstruck.
"Magic. And I'm not referring to the parlor tricks, this is the real deal. Same way we have the person who did that," he said, pointing to the bat. "Can we talk now and try to solve this?"
The agent sat back down in his chair, trying to put everything into perspective. Right now, what he had was an unsolved murder.
"Ok, Mr. Harris, we'll cut the bullshit for another time. I must ask you to please leave the gun, wherever it is, holstered during your stay in here."
"Sure, it was just to prove a point. And don't worry, I even voted for the guy," Xander said, effectively diffusing the situation.
"Ok, Agent Stevens here was the one that found the victim, along the cleaning lady, Consuelo Javier. Mrs. Javier had to be sent home under medical care. You can try and speak to her later, if you wish."
"I don't think I will, but thanks. Agent Stevens, care to relate me everything that happened?"
Stevens related everything calmly and professionally. Xander noticed he was shaking slightly, but let it go. He asked a couple of questions, and nodded a few times. After he finished, Xander looked at the whiteboard hanging behind the man and read the questions written there.
"Thank you, Agent Stevens, I don't have any other questions," he said, already thinking up some answers to those questions.
The agent looked to his superior. "Go home, John, give the wife a kiss and don't come back here for a week. If you need anything, call me, but go home and forget this for a while."
"Thank you, sir," the black man said, nodded to Joy and left, closing the door.
"This crushes a man, you know? Sixteen years of it and it still shocks me sometimes," Xander voiced.
"Sixteen?" Joy asked.
"Since I was fifteen. You got lucky we cast the spell when you were older. A fair number of girls got Called not older than fourteen."
"Fouteen year olds fighting vampires? That's insane. It's criminal, it's . . ." Hollister started, getting angered by the second.
"Hey, I'm not the one who chooses them! Blame a superior Power that thinks that teenage girls are excellent warriors! Besides, the young ones are trained extensively, and just when they reach seventeen is that they are allowed to fight for real. But believe me, it's not easy or beautiful, for any of the parts involved. It's ugly and deadly, most of the times."
"I can only imagine," the Chief of Security said, deflating a bit. He too ordered people to risk their lives. "So, Mr. Harris, care to give an opinion on what you just heard?"
"I believe I can answer a few of those questions, a couple correctly, the rest is still speculation on my part. Problem is how are you going to put them in your report. First, the sure deal: from what Agent Stevens told me, the reason you didn't feel any smell before he broke up the door is because of a sealing spell."
"Sealing spell? What is it?"
"It is as the name says. It seals an environment against invasion, or against escape. Everything that is in the environment stays there. Sound, smell, people, magic. It is fairly easy to cast, but the more experienced the mage or witch, the more it will hold. If he or she were truly powerful or truly gifted, an Abrahams tank wouldn't have broken that door. So, we have a mage or witch with some knowledge but not much."
Hollister took some notes on it, shaking his head the entire time.
"Second sure deal: the camera was working properly, it was just receiving a obscuring spell in front of its lenses. As the name states, it is a spell that creates a 'darkening field' for lack of a better term. Problem is that both spells don't add up to our suspect, which takes me to our next question."
"Doesn't add up why?" Hollister asked.
"First speculation: how did the girl get in here? Another spell, this one a glamour spell or an invisibility one. Problem is, such spells, and the obscuring spell, requires a lot of ability on the side of the spell caster, and a lot of energy. If he did have so much energy, why did he make such a weak sealing spell? It doesn't add up."
"Could it be two people?" Joy asked. Hollister looked questioningly to Xander.
"I don't know, but I guess it couldn't. Hiding two people with a spell like that is dangerous, not to mention tiresome. A third one just to make such a weak spell? I don't think so."
The telephone chose that moment to ring. Hollister picked it up.
"Yeah . . . Already? Good . . . Any ID? . . . Why not? . . .Ok. I'll send someone to check the info . . . In half an hour . . . See if you can get me anything else . . . I'll be waiting. Bye," and he hung up. "I believe we'll cut our discussion a bit short. They finished the autopsy on our Jane Doe. I would like that you and Agent Cameron here to go to the FBI building and get some answers from them on the spot. And I guess you would like to check the body, Mr. Harris."
"Yeah, I would," Xander said, standing up. "So, Agent Slayer Cameron, care to test your luck with the one-eyed driver?"
"Sure. Sir," she said, nodding to her superior. They left the White House still under snowfall.
-- --
"So, Mr. Harris . . ."Joy asked, looking the car interior, noticing the baby seat in the back. 'Damn,' she thought for the second time, "How did you get into this business?"
"Xander, please. Mr. Harris is my late father, and I wouldn't like to mention him, at all. And you could say that I fell for the right girl," he said.
"Your wife?" she asked, pointing to the ring in his finger.
"Oh, no, no. Her sister, actually," Xander said, looking to the heavy traffic. Washington did have some serious problems regarding traffic and snow.
"Who was she?"
"Did they mention Buffy Summers in your 'Summer Camp'?"
"Of course they did. The oldest living Slayer."
"That's the one. I fell for her, literally, Sophomore Year."
"Is she still alive?" Joy asked.
"Oh, yeah, and annoying as ever. You should see her holding Jesse," Xander said, smiling. "She still thinks I shouldn't do certain things, like marrying her sister and making her an aunt."
Joy laughed. "Who is Jesse?"
"My daughter," Xander said, removing his wallet and opening it in a picture of him, a tired looking Dawn and a newborn baby, Jessica. The photo looked like it had been taken in a hospital.
"How old is she?" Joy asked, returning the wallet.
"She is five months tomorrow, and that reminds me . . ." he pressed a button in the car's steering wheel and spoke aloud, "Dial home."
Joy listened the phone ring five times before it was answered.
"Yeah?"
"Hon, it's me. How are things?" Xander asked, taking a left turn.
"You are lucky I love you so much, Xan, otherwise I would have killed you for calling now. Jessica just fell asleep."
"Sorry, Dawnie. Look, I forgot one thing, tell Carmen that Josie will deliver the foods later on, it's already paid for."
"Ok, did you buy the garlic bread?"
"Of course I did. How could I forget it?"
"I love you, you know that?"
"Yeah, I do. Listen, I gotta go. Give Baby Jess a kiss, ok?"
"Sure. See you tonight?" Dawn asked.
"Gonna try, hon. No promises."
"Tell Ms. Cameron she's invited as well."
"She's right by my side."
"I know. I gotta go, baby. See you later. Take care. Bye, Ms. Cameron."
The line went mute.
"How did she do that?" Joy asked, surprised.
"Beats me. I guess it's too many years living under the influence of the supernatural, something was bound to happen. But I guess, in her case, it's just woman's instinct."
"She seems nice."
"She is, much like her mother was," he said, with a note of sadness in his voice.
After that, he fell silent, and Joy kept wondering what the mystery that Xander Harris was. How a man could pull a gun in the face of the Head of House Security so coldly one moment, and be so warm with his wife the next?
The answer hadn't come yet, by the time they parked near the FBI Building.
-- --
The FBI Autopsy room was the brightest and the cleanest that Xander had ever seen, but it still held that feeling of death imprinted on everything, regardless. The woman that came to talk to them wasn't any Dana Scully as well, but a short, chubby woman by the name of Regina Anders.
Dr. Anders greeted them coolly, and before they could ask a single question, she walked with them to a table with a covered corpse on it. She walked to the head of the corpse and pulled the cover away.
"This is your Jane Doe . . ." she started, but the reaction she got from Xander made her stop. He looked at the almost unrecognizable face and cursed.
"Damn, this ain't no Jane Doe," he said, picking up his cell phone and hitting one number on the speed dial. As soon as the voice on the other side answered, he spoke.
"Robin, it's me . . . Yeah, look, is Faith around? . . . Well, tell her we got a big mess on our hands . . . Yeah, I found Andrea . . . She's dead, Robin . . . And tell Andrew I need to know what ceremonies have a Slayer as sacrifice."