The Road Back: Season Three

by xxmagex

The events started in The Road to Hell continue. The world changes as the Scoobies and others realize they are part of a bigger world.

4. Chapter 4

Part Forty-four

Vatican City, Rome, Italy. May 30, 2001

Monsignor Randall Bentallo took a quick sip from the teacup that had been on the mahogany desk in front of him. He then placed the cup back down gently on the table, and looked out the window.

One of the perks of being a member of the Special Office of the Vatican was, undoubtedly, an office with a nice view. He didn't get enough chances to enjoy it, what with the new situation between his organization and the Siberians these days. But at least it was still there and able to be appreciated when he could.

The office seemed an ideal place to await the test results. And it also gave him a chance to contemplate recent events.

Bentallo knew that the attempt to kill the child genius Irving Hollins had greatly disturbed the Americans. There was something else worrying them though, something that had them on edge. The Monsignor felt the reason they were keeping Hollins' survival a secret was more than just a concern about possible future attempts on his life.

There was also the situation involving Xander Harris. He was clearly and understandably having problems with everything that had transpired, and the news about the Spear of Destiny added to all that had not helped. Bentallo had offered to talk to the American about it, but Xander had politely refused.

So for now, the Catholic official concentrated on what he could do, in other words - search for the Spear.

Rome was the first stop. Randall, in his heart, had doubts this lead would pan out; however, it still had to be checked.

Bentallo's musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. He then looked up to see a young man in a lab coat standing there. "Monsignor?"

"Yes, my son?" Bentallo replied.

"We have the results of the tests. And I'm sorry, but there is no way that the artifact in question was the one used at Calvary. The weapon's been carbon-dated as being from the fifth century AD, at best..."

Bentallo sighed. "Well, I suppose it *was* too much to hope for that the first place we looked would be where the real Spear was. Anyway, thank you for your work - and when I need your services again, I'll be in touch."

The other man nodded, and left the room. Bentallo just sighed again, and then reached forward and grabbed the telephone on his desk. "Hello? Yes, I need to make arrangements to go to Vienna at once..."

Richmond, Virginia. June 4, 2001

Fred Burkle made her way into the gym, closing the door behind her. In the middle of the room Xander was working out, doing quite a bit of damage to a punching bag. Fred made her way to the bench next to the mat, carrying a small paper bag. She sat down, and waited for a few seconds.

After a series of particularly energetic punches and kicks, the bag shuddered in a manner that made one think it wouldn't be long before a new bag would be needed. "Uh, you're certainly putting the exercise in," Fred observed.

Xander paused and looked over towards the young woman. "I need to do something to get back into shape, Fred. I have people to see before too long, talk about old times with them..."

Winifred inwardly grimaced at that. She was worried about Xander becoming consumed on the inside by what had happened; not that she didn't think Spike and Drusilla shouldn't be hunted down, after all - she was Texan, born and bred. Still, the female genius knew that revenge could sometimes consume the person out for said vengeance, as well as the target.

Fred brightened up and held up the bag. "I brought lunch," she said with a smile.

Xander used his arm to wipe sweat off his forehead. "Great, thanks! I *was* getting kinda hungry..." He then walked over and picked up a towel from the bench that Fred was sitting on.

Fred opened up the bag and set up the sandwiches, chips and drinks on the bench between her and Xander. Harris sat down and asked, "So, what kind of sandwiches do we have here?"

"Barbecue. I know it's not Texan barbecue, but it's good enough for us city slickers," Fred answered, as she handed a bottle of water to her companion.

"Oooh, thanks," Xander said with a grin, right before he took a long gulp. "Anyhow, what have you been up to today?"

"Nothing major. Irving sent me some papers he wanted me to look over for, y'know, ideas. Light reading, mostly," Fred answered.

Xander raised an eyebrow at that. "Light reading? Light for you or light for me?"

Fred smiled. "I'm sure it's not too complicated for you. I can bring them around for you to look at, if you want."

Xander waved the bottled water in mock surrender. "No, no. My poor little brain couldn't possibly take the stress. Let's keep things simple for it."

Fred frowned. "Xander, you shouldn't put yourself down like that. You're very bright, and I-I know Irving is impressed with your work. After all, he wouldn't have kept you on as a student otherwise."

Xander smiled at the compliment from the Texan. "Thanks, Fred. I do appreciate the pick-me-up, and I guess it's just old habit - one that I really gotta break one day! However, I'll still pass on looking over the papers. I haven't quite got that far yet in my studies."

Fred took a bite out of the sandwich, and after a few seconds she spoke up again. "So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"I'm not sure, I'm supposed to meet with the physical therapist later today." Fred raised an eyebrow as Xander explained, "I know, I know, after what you just saw a few minutes ago, physical therapy doesn't make much sense to me either. Still, the doctors insist on it, otherwise I guess it would introduce too many variables into their number-crunching little blinkered world! So I go see the therapist and do the exercises. It's a way to kill some time, if nothing else."

"That's so...sad!" At his look Fred hastened to explain herself, "I mean, what you look forward to is physical therapy? You need something brighter. You should get out, and enjoy life-"

"Have you met me? You know the kind of life I have to lead. Not much to enjoy there, Fred," Xander replied a little brusquely.

The brunette woman suddenly got a determined look on her face. "No. I am not going to let you wallow in self-pity! Later today, you and I are going out to enjoy the daylight."

"Fred, I don't know..." Xander started before the woman interrupted him.

"No, no arguments, I am taking you out later this afternoon, and I'm going to show you what real barbecue is!"

Xander shrugged. "If you can swing it with Gunny and Cleburne, why not?"

Georgetown, Washington D.C. Later that afternoon

"What the hell's this?"

The reason for Cleburne's question was sitting on his desk, having just been placed there by Gunny. "A good idea," was the sergeant-major's response.

Cleburne leaned forward and picked it up. It was a combination of a wooden cross with the bottom of it sharpened into a stake. "It combines two separate pieces of equipment into one, that's easily handled under combat conditions. I think we should make it general-issue for the troops."

Cleburne raised an eyebrow at Gunny's statement. "Industrious of you! I agree, let's see about mass-producing it. Good idea-"

The Marine noncom shook his head at once. "No, I can't claim the credit for this. Lockley up in Cleveland's been lugging one of them around. Made it herself, even back when she was part of the LAPD."

Cleburne nodded at that, recalling that Gunny had been up in Cleveland during the last few days. "Good for her," the Marine commented simply as he handed the combination cross/stake back to Gunny.

"She seems to have a good head on her shoulders. Would've made a good line officer."

Cleburne leaned back in his chair, his interest piqued. "High praise, coming from you."

"You ought to go see her in action, pick her brain," Gunny continued.

Cleburne looked at Charles Rose for a few seconds. "I've read her reports, and there's no need for me to personally go up there..." Cleburne leaned forward, "But enough about you trying to make travel plans for me. You swung by Richmond on your way here - how's the kid?"

Gunny paused for a second before answering. "He's putting on a good show of dealing. However...he's angry. And we're talking killing angry, Beirut levels. He's increased his personal training time. Reminds me of a coiled snake, ready to pounce."

Cleburne frowned. "Damn. Well, guess I'm not surprised...I'd hoped I wouldn't have to do this, but I suppose I need to." He leaned over and picked up the phone on his desk. "I'm gonna call have to call in my personal expert, once I can arrange the clearance for her."

Northern Canada. Later that day

The tractor trailer made its way along the snow-lined road. The truck driver was making good time. He squinted through his sunglasses, as the sunlight reflected off the snow.

He hummed to himself. Things were going good.

At least, they *were* going good. The trucker suddenly shouted in panic, as a huge shadow passed the road in front of the truck. He struggled to stop the tractor trailer, and not let it slide off the road.

He finally got the rig stopped and stumbled out of the cab, looking into the air as he did.

"Damn, no one is going to believe this..."

Richmond, Virginia. June 5, 2001

The sun beat down as Xander and Fred sat in the city park, Xander's guards discreetly all around them. The Texan woman had finally managed to clear their little luncheon with the brass, and both she and her companion watched the other people taking advantage of early summer sunshine.

They were sitting at a picnic table. And in front of them were the various items for a picnic. "Fred, I've got to say, this was a great idea! I'm definitely enjoying getting out of the apartment for a while," Xander remarked with a rare smile.

Fred smiled at that. "Good, I'm glad you came. The sun and fresh air will do you good!"

Xander nodded. He waited a few seconds before he spoke again, "Y'know, Fred, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I need to warn you about something-"

Fred waved her hand and interrupted Xander. "No, don't you start on that path. I know what you're going to say! 'Cause Oz and I have talked about your past-" She saw his expression and hastened to say, "Now don't get mad, he didn't betray any secrets! He just talked about things any kid who went to your high school would've known. I know you've had problems in your past-"

Xander scowled at that. "Yeah, that's pretty much of an understatement, Fred. Big problems."

"Well, considering your life now, I would sorta expect that you did. If you hadn't, I would think you were getting some major karma payback!" Fred responded energetically, then she started to babble. "Now I know quite a few things about being in a bad place. I mean, living for years in a cave i-isn't conducive to happy thoughts. I mean, I know quite a few things about the black pit of despair, so to speak. I know what it feels like to feel that you're cut off from everyone else. Like you can never go home-"

"Got that right, hell, that Wolfe guy said it best; you can't go home again. And I can't ever go home, on account of home's gone for me," Xander said. "Said as much to the First Evil, too, in between when that asshole Barshon was getting off on using me as his torture toy..."

Fred shuddered at her own bad memories of Pylea. "It's kinda like that for me too. I mean, I never got tortured by the priests, and thank God for that! But no matter what...1996 is no longer there for me, or anyone else for that matter. Xander, you're not alone in your situation. I just hope you don't forget that."

Xander looked at his female companion sadly. "But it's just that...well, I get the feeling that I'm cursed. Anytime someone female gets close to me, bad things happen. And I mean very bad things."

Fred cocked her head to one side, and looked at the young man. "I know things have gone wrong for you in the past-"

Xander spoke up, interrupting her. "They die, they all die or leave or...whatever. That's the funny thing about my life, Fred, how many women I've lost. Faith's dead. Rachael's dead. In the first go-around, lotta other people died too. I mean, how many people do you know that can honestly say - they spent more time in cemeteries rather than places like Lovers Lane, when they were teenagers?"

Fred looked concerned at his bitter tone. "Well, you and they were in a dangerous line of work. I mean, Faith was a Slayer, a-and Rachael was a spy. People do die doing that sort of thing," she said gingerly.

"Well, what about Anya? If not for me, she would have bugged out of Sunnydale and stayed gone before-" Xander caught himself before saying too much.

"Anya?" Fed asked.

"Nothing, forget I said anything," Xander said hurriedly.

Fred thought about it for a second. She then spoke softly, "I, uh, I've never heard you mention her name before. But she was special to you, wasn't she?"

Xander looked away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Xander? It's better to talk about it. Weren't you telling me that a short while ago, when I first got back to this world?"

Xander smiled at that, despite his bad mood. { Six months I've known this woman, if that. How the hell did she ever learn to get under my skin so quickly? } "No fair, you're not allowed to use what I say against me!" he said playfully.

"So sue me," Fred said, her own beautiful smile erupting. "I'm sure the government types have some lawyers around somewhere that you can use!"

"Hmmm, lawyers working for the black ops people. I don't know about you, but I'm more creeped out now than I was before," Harris remarked, shaking his head.

Fred chuckled at Xander's remark, then looked serious. "Tell me about Anya."

Xander shook his head. "Fred..."

"No, trust me. When I came back from Pylea, I didn't want to talk about what had happened, remember? I wanted to stay inside my room, and scribble all over the walls. Well, after I got sick of talking to people who weren't even there! But you know what, you and the others wouldn't let me stay crazy that way. You all saved me from myself. So now, I'm returning the favor. And just so we're clear about this, I'm from Texas, and Texas women do not take no for an answer. So start talking about Anya, tell me about her!"

Harris hesitated for a second. "Fred, the Anya Jenkins I knew and remember...she doesn't exist anymore. Well, not that version of her, anyway; the human woman now living in Sunnydale...from what I've read of Lemke's reports, she's in love with someone else, and has probably never even heard of me-"

Fred was a bit confused, but decided to soldier on anyway. "I don't get that, but I don't have to. I asked about the person *you* knew and cared about, not some stranger. So let's hear it, okay?"

Xander just sighed, and eventually the whole tangled tale eventually began to spill out of his lips. Fred listened avidly, as Harris began to tell her things that not even Oz knew about. With only a slight headache, thanks to the healing effects of the Holy Grail...

As he talked, Xander touched only briefly on how Anya had become human in the original reality; not mentioning any names, only that he had hurt his girlfriend badly towards the end of 1998 and the demoness Anyanka, the patron saint of scorned women, had shown up in Sunnydale to grant her a Wish.

"But what's all that got to do with this Anya Jenkins person?" Fred asked in confusion at this point.

"Well, Anyanka lost her powers when her amulet was smashed, and she became mortal afterwards. She kept the name of Anya, and we eventually started dating after that-"

"You mean, you were romantically involved with a *demon*?" Ms. Burkle demanded, her eyes huge.

"EX-demon," Xander said sharply. "Trust me, Fred, there's a *big* difference! I know, because I had enough of that sort of thing with the Inca Mummy Girl, the Preying Mantis lady, and that shape-shifter bitch who strung me up and stabbed me in the school basement-"

Fred again looked lost, so Xander hurriedly went on, "Long story, for each and every one of them. So, never mind all that for now! Anyway, getting back on topic, after high school was over Anya and I...sort of stumbled our way into a relationship. And there were times when I thought she was the one good thing in my life, post-1999."

"I don't understand something," Winifred said in confusion. "If she was a demon for the last 1100 years, and she became human because of what you say you did...then why is she human, here and now? I mean, didn't you say that all that happened in the first go-around?"

Again Xander sighed. "I know, and until I read about it - I thought 'Anya Jenkins' was someone who didn't exist in this version of reality as well. But call it luck, or fate, or karma...hell, call it whatever you want, but it seems that *something* happened towards the end of 1999 to make her human in this timeline as well."

Fred could instantly see the implications. "And even if you could be around her without the headaches...it just wouldn't be the same, would it? Wow..." She looked at her crush sadly. "It's like something out of Fitzgerald - the man who can have everything but love..."

Oddly, thanks to the Wizard's classes, Xander instantly got the reference. "Do us both a favor, Fred; don't go all Gatsby on me now, okay? I still got a lot more to tell you here."

"Sorry, go on..."

Xander started talking again, going over the events of 2000-2001. He finally finished up, "So there we were in the Magic Box, and suddenly I propose. What does she do? She slaps my face! God, I fell in love with Anya even more than ever after that..."

Fred didn't miss the note of sadness in his voice, though. "But the story doesn't have a happy ending, does it?"

"No," Xander's expression dimmed. "Guess I got cold feet about it, almost the moment after I asked her to marry me. Still, I thought I knew what I was doing, I knew what I wanted - right up until our wedding day. That was the day I left her at the altar-"

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Fred yelled, alerting the nearby guards.

"Yeah. Not exactly my finest hour, I'll admit," Harris said with a grimace. "Still, I honestly believed I was doing the right thing then, trying to protect her from a nightmare that at the time - I was sure was gonna happen."

"Nightmare?" Fred asked in concern.

"One of Ahn's old victims escaped from the hell dimension she'd sent him to, nearly 100 years before. And that guy decided to get vengeance on a vengeance demon, major karma deal - kinda like I mentioned earlier. He showed me some fake visions of the future, where I ended up killing her," Xander said simply.

The Texan woman was lost again. "But if they were fakes, why did you-?"

"Leave Anya at the worst possible moment? Because they could just as easily have eventually come true, whether anyone wanted to admit it or not. Fred, I looked around in the wedding hall at that moment and saw my parents fighting in public - just like the fake Ahn and me had done, in that last vision. That's when I realized I might end up just like my old man one day, and I couldn't subject Anya to that. No way."

Fred Burkle tried to get it straight, and then asked, "So, then what?"

Xander sighed, "What do you think? Anya went back to her roots, and became a vengeance demon again. That bastard D'hoffryn - he tempted her into throwing away her humanity because of everything I'd done, just like he did the first time..."

Fred noticed his sudden angry expression and asked meekly, "Who's D'hoffryn?"

Xander glanced at her, opened his mouth - and then shut it again. Finally he said, "A vengeance demon lord, basically. Oddly enough, he's someone who initially reminds you of an investment banker, if you can look past the horns and demon face. But don't let his façade fool you, Fred; that SOB really loves pain and suffering. I still remember what he said that night when Anya decided to become human again; 'never go for the kill, when you can go for the pain'. Pissed me right off, I can tell you..."

Fred cocked her head again. "So, why not ask the Siberians to help go after him?"

Harris snorted, "He doesn't live in this dimension, that's why. And Pylea was enough for the Siberians, I'm sure! Okay, granted, demon lords of that rank can be summoned to manifest here on Earth. But even if I could figure out how to get him here, I don't have enough intel on how to kill him or prevent him from escaping. Besides, the First has to be my priority right now."

"Right," Fred said dubiously. "But getting back to Anya...?"

The former slave shrugged. "Well, as I said, she became human again after that night during 2002. But it...it just wasn't the same. Deep down I still loved her and she still loved me, but that simply...didn't mean much for us anymore. We had sex one last time, and that was it." Then he chuckled, "Well, apart from that evening during 2003, when the sex-a-thon took place in Buffy's house..."

Fred blushed at once, she just couldn't help it. { Sex-a-thon? Wow... } Then she asked, "So...this woman just disappeared into oblivion after that?"

Xander suddenly looked sick, "No. I was told she died during the final battle against the First. It's one of the very last memories I have of that world."

Fred's eyes went wide. "So that's why you didn't want to talk about her. When you said earlier that the Anya Jenkins you knew didn't exist anymore...she *really* didn't exist anymore..."

"Yeah," Xander said shortly. "But at least whatever happens now, I won't be there to inflict that sort of nightmare on her all over again. Not saying that asshole Andrew is better for her, of course; it's just...I know exactly how much worse things could be. Anya has a shot at happiness, and I'm not going to interfere with it. So good luck to her, is all I can say."

Fred thought for a second. "Well, she's not the only one with a shot at happiness. You, heck, all of us have a second shot now, thanks to you!"

Xander thought for a second. Well, okay, maybe Fred had a point - a lot of people had a chance at happiness now that they didn't 'before'. Still, Harris suspected the law of life was such that in order for some people to have happy endings, others have to get screwed.

Morituri te salutant. We who are about to die salute you, and all that.

"Maybe."

Fred frowned at that. Clearly, Xander needed more saving than she'd first thought. "Xander, listen to me. You're going to have a happy ending, believe me! I'm gonna make sure of it!" she said firmly.

STW medical facility, Dallas, Texas. June 6, 2001

Cleburne followed the orderly through the corridors of the upscale clinic. Here and there patients sat in various chairs, attended to by the staff. After a few moments, the two of them came to bright sun-lit room. And a woman could be seen seated in a wheelchair, reading a book.

"Let me know if you need anything," the orderly said, before he retreated back down the corridor.

Cleburne stepped forward, and opened his mouth.

"Morning, jarhead. I was wondering when you would come here to get me to fix one of your mistakes," the beautiful blonde in the wheelchair said, without looking up to face the Marine.

"I can't come by just to say hello to Miss Texas?" Cleburne asked, as he pulled a chair up next to her.

"Been a while since you called me that. I've missed it," she replied.

Cleburne chuckled. "Well, you'd hear it a lot more often - if you came to Virginia to visit us more than once in a blue moon. I know you can travel-"

"I don't like traveling, I don't want to always be the first one on the plane. I'm not dead," she said bitterly.

"Holly-" Cleburne started before he was cut short.

"No, seriously, why are you here? I know some of the things going on back at the Gulag. I'm still tuned into the grapevine a little," the woman known only as Holly said. "You want to pick my brain, get some advice?"

Cleburne swallowed before starting. "You know about the kid?"

"Alexander Harris, or Hall, or Howard, or whatever name he's using now. Yeah, the Timetripper or whatever that moniker is that's been hung on him. A little out of our usual area of expertise, but I understand you've broadened our horizons during the last couple of years or so," she replied.

Cleburne nodded. "That's him. I've gotten worried about Howard, ever since Rachael Weitz and the Wizard got killed-"

"Spare me your bullshit. Hollins is still alive," Holly said flatly.

"What? No, he got killed when Rachael got taken out," Cleburne said at once. There was an invisible note of unease in his voice, though. { How the hell did she know that? Damn it, not another security leak- }

"Sorry, but if Hollins was dead, you wouldn't be here. You'd be busy dismantling two or three terrorist organizations - in a very nasty and original, and possibly public way," Holly explained.

"We're not entirely sure as to the culprits yet," Cleburne declared, even though that was a blatant lie.

"That won't wash, Cleburne. I *know* you. Even if you weren't sure, you would pick out some targets at random just so that no one thought STW had been affected or crippled by their actions. Keep them off-balance and wondering." Holly shifted so she was leaning towards Cleburne, carefully keeping her left side facing away from him. "Remember? I taught you, I was your rabbi at the Gulag. I know what tricks you'd use, and when."

Cleburne leaned back, grimacing. { Double damn. Why the hell did we ever let her go, anyway? She's got more smarts on half-power than most of the guys I have on staff... } "Okay, so the Wizard's alive and we're keeping it under wraps for now. I trust I don't have to give you the spiel?"

"No. And I take it you intend to sucker-punch the bad guys later on," Holly finished.

"You bet, we know who did it and who hired them. Don't want to tip our hand too soon, so we're going to deal with the hired help first, then those who hired them."

"Who were they?" Holly asked.

"Order of Taraka did the deed, well - they arranged it through a couple of freelancers. Al-Qaeda contracted the hit, although we think there were a few others who may have missed out on paying for the exact same thing within days to weeks," Cleburne explained. "The Order is about to get a really nasty surprise - and al-Qaeda, well, we have plans for them later in the year."

Holly raised an eyebrow at that. "You're worried about Howard?"

Cleburne nodded. "He's taking Rachael's death hard. They were close. Real close-"

"What exactly is he to STW?" Holly asked suddenly.

Cleburne frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Is he an asset? Or a member of the team?" the wheelchair-bound woman asked.

"Originally...just an asset. But after everything over the last 18 months, I'd say he's one of us now," was the Marine's reply.

"Well then, treat him just like one of the men. Don't agonize over how he feels. If he's like Gunny or Red, I'd tell you to do the same thing with him that I did with you in 1983, after you got out of the hospital."

"Take me to a bar in Munich, get me drunk - and pound the crap out of a bunch of neo-Nazi skinheads?" Cleburne asked innocently.

Holly actually smiled at that. "Well, maybe not that specifically, but the general principle would apply. Don't let him sulk, don't let him feel out of the loop. Get him involved and keep him active. Same for you. I imagine Rachael's family isn't too happy with her death, huh?"

Cleburne leaned back. "Well, I've talked to the old man. They're going to be in on the payback. As for Rachael's mother..." Cleburne's voice trailed off.

Holly didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Yeah. Never mind that, it's a can of worms that I'm sure neither of you want to get into now. So what big plans do you have in mind for the bad guys?" she asked.

Cleburne took a deep breath, threw operational secrecy out the window and then proceeded to tell his old mentor everything about Operation Reciprocity.

Georgetown, Washington D.C. June 7, 2001

Esther Marcum looked up, as the former FBI agent known as Malcolm Fletcher entered her office. "Good morning, Fletcher. Have a seat, and tell me what you have in mind."

Fletcher took a chair across the table from Marcum. "Good morning to you as well, ma'am. Okay now, I wanted to talk to you a little bit about the way the Siberians hunt for the evil weird in this world..."

Esther raised an eyebrow. "Ambitious, aren't we? You've only been with us what, a year or so?" she said jokingly.

"Well, you all have quite a bit of experience in the field, but I'm thinking a fresh approach might be in order here," Fletcher explained. "Mind you, I'm not criticizing. I just think the bad guys - demons or monsters, so to speak - would be taken by surprise if we shook things up a little bit."

"In what way?" Esther asked.

"Well, you guys have the whole military spy thing down pretty good. No doubt about that, but I think some good old-fashioned police work is also in order." The Siberian agent leaned forward, "Before I came on board here, for a time I was involved in organized crime investigations, you know - RICO and all that."

Esther looked at Fletcher. "Go on."

"Well, the human Mafia and motorcycle gangs, they're organized. Their organization was why they were so effective, and in the end they were the reason law enforcement dismantled them so neatly. Because there are only so many ways to organize an organization. I mean, there's just a limited number of ways to launder money from a drug ring, so the same would apply from a black market magical artifact scheme. Just because demons are running the show, that doesn't mean the methods that brought down the Gambino family wouldn't work."

"Well, I don't know. A Pokhara demon isn't exactly the same as a Mafia don," Esther said doubtfully.

"But a lot of times, their motivations are the same - and so are the techniques. Also, banks treat them exactly the same. Well, those banking officials that know about demons anyway," Fletcher said, in response to Esther's look at the mention of banks. "Human or demon, the bad guys need money or some form of currency. To that end, they need an organization to get the money and to clean it up."

Esther nodded. "True enough. I'll grant you that, but still I'm not convinced-"

"Think about it. I guarantee you that the Watchers Council has never thought to bug the Master vampire getting ready to destroy the world! All they'd do is send the Slayer in. No intelligence preparation, or follow-up. Just hack, slash, and dusty Master vampire; with the minions free to escape and become employed by a new Master, later on. What we ought to try to do is roll up a whole enemy network, at the time of engagement. One fell swoop, not the death of a thousand cuts," Fletcher was getting more animated the longer he spoke.

"But is your way the way to go?" Esther asked.

"Hey, we've been dismantling the Mafia for over twenty years now! I think I know what I'm talking about," Fletcher said with a smile.

"All right, tell you what; sit down and write out a formal proposal. We've been getting some rumblings about demonic activity in Florida, and that might be the place to try out your idea..."

Richmond, Virginia. June 8, 2001

"Kid? Kid, you here?" Cleburne shouted, as he entered the apartment used by Xander and his exiles. He closed the door behind him, and made his way towards the kitchen.

Even though the lights were off, the light from the setting sun shone in and revealed Xander Harris sitting at the table looking out the window. "Didn't you hear me, kid?" Cleburne asked testily.

"I heard you, Cleburne. Just didn't answer you," Xander replied.

Joshua frowned, sat down at the table across from Xander, and placed a bottle down on the table with two shot glasses. Xander looked at the present, "What's this?"

"Bourbon, got a friend from Kentucky who gets it for me straight from the distillery. Good stuff," Cleburne explained.

"And what, you're going to get me drunk? I should warn you - I come from a long line of drunks, and I can out-drink you any day of the week," Xander snorted.

"Hey, I'm a South Carolina redneck who became a Marine. When it comes to drinking, I'm no slouch," Cleburne said as poured the bourbon into the shot glasses. He passed one of the shot glasses over to the former Scooby. "Drink up," he said, as the director of field ops downed his shot.

Xander hesitated for a second, before reaching over and emptying his shot glass. "You can't win this," he said simply.

"Other people have said that to Marines before and come to regret it," Cleburne poured another shot. "We don't lose-"

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Vietnam?"

"Hey! We never got beat in the field, and the decision to withdraw was made by non-Marines," Cleburne replied. "And Lieutenant Colonel James Kean was a little before my personal time, but I'm sure if it had been up to him - we would have never pulled out that way!"

Xander raised an eyebrow at that too, but decided to exercise tact and not pursue the point. "Why are you getting me drunk tonight? I assume that's your plan, to get me plastered. Drown my sorrows?"

"Last chance. Dr. Reynolds shows up tomorrow and I know she won't approve of this, but hey - it's worked for countless soldiers throughout the ages, so I decided to go with the golden oldie," Cleburne explained.

"Dr. Reynolds?" Xander asked with a small amount of dread, as he took the shot glass offered by Cleburne.

"Yeah. Tough old bird," Cleburne said as he downed the second shot. "Known her for almost twenty years, been my doctor for all that time-"

"Hey, all the doctors at all the clinics have poked and prodded me. They gave me a clean bill of health. I don't need another doctor using me as a guinea pig!" Xander said in annoyance.

"Not that kind of doctor," Cleburne replied. "Look, kid, you're slated to be going back into the field soon. Physically, you're about there already; been keeping track of your workouts, no concerns there! However, this line of work isn't physical skill alone. The best weapon in the world doesn't mean squat, if the person using it is all addle-brained. Dr. Reynolds decides who is addle-brained, and whose brain doesn't shake. Way it works, she gives an up check on you before you go back into field ops, and that includes hunting Spike-"

Xander slammed down his shot glass. "Now wait just a damn minute-!"

"No. I know you want a crack at the vampire, hell in your shoes so would I! But I want you in the proper frame of mind, so that you don't make any stupid mistakes. Let that soldier persona in your head make you be professional about all this, kid. You make a mistake and suddenly I'm having to avenge both you and Rachael, and I don't have time for that..."

Xander glared at Cleburne for a second, as the essence of Donald Grant within him spoke up. { He's right. Passions and emotions cause mistakes. And mistakes get you killed... } "All right, I see your point. However, I don't have to like it," Xander finally said as he held out the empty shot glass.

"You shouldn't. Accept yes, be happy with it, hell no!" Cleburne said simply, as he refilled the shot glass.

Xander didn't say anything, as he suddenly remembered how Spike in the previous history had tried to play on his opponents' emotions that time during the first year of college. He had played the Scoobies like a violin too, if one must give credit where it was due. And Xander had no doubt that he would try to do the same in this world, if ever given the opportunity.

{ Doubtful he's ever gonna get it, but still. } "So what now?" Harris asked.

"You need to let the weight of the world off your shoulders?" Cleburne said simply.

Xander blinked at that. "What?"

"That's the problem of youth. Kids like you always think the entire world is their responsibility," Cleburne explained. "They think everything is their responsibility!" the Marine then remarked acidly.

Xander looked at Cleburne. "When did they start teaching philosophy at boot camp?"

"Hey, the whole thing is based on it. Break down the youth so they don't go and do something stupid in the heat of battle, and get themselves and others killed in a hot LZ. We want them to respond in a way that they survive combat, and kill the enemy. Combat isn't as easy as it looks," Cleburne responded.

Xander was surprised at the response. But he just downed another shot and said, "You're full of surprises, Joshua..."

Cleburne chuckled. "That's the plan!" He drank out of his shot glass, and then he stood up. "Come on, drinking is best done in the summertime on the back porch - or failing that, the balcony." He grabbed the bourbon bottle and shot glass, while Xander followed him.

As Cleburne stepped out to the balcony he spoke up, "So, kid. Tell me again about this Spike fella, and more importantly - how we can best dust the soulless bastard..."

Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. Later that night

The green-skinned waitress known as Ametila expertly balanced a tray full of empty glasses, as she headed towards the kitchen of the demon club. It was a busy night tonight in the establishment, and all the waitresses were running around like headless chickens-

"Hey, Ametila."

She looked up at the fellow waitress who'd called her name, who looked like a combination of a woman and a cat. "Yeah, Gillian?"

"He's here," Gillian said with a smile.

"Who?" Ametila asked.

"Oh come on, you know who! He's at the bar," Gillian answered.

Ametila did in fact know who, she'd known even before she looked out the kitchen door at the bar. Sitting there was the redheaded naval officer known as Commander Michael Byrne, who had long ago been nicknamed Red by Cleburne. He saw Ametila looking through the kitchen door, and he instantly smiled and waved.

Ametila smiled brightly and waved back. She then ducked back into the kitchen. "You two going out tonight?" Gillian asked with a knowing grin on her face.

"If he's still here at closing time," Ametila said simply.

"Oh he'll be here, sweetheart. We both know he's got it bad," Gillian said with the smile still on her face. "So what's it like?"

"What?" Ametila was confused.

"Human love," Gillian said. "I mean - come on, he's not a demon like us, so why the leap into exotic land?"

Ametila thought for a second. "I like him. He's...special."

Gillian frowned for a second. "Well, I suppose it's fun to experiment with a little fling and all, but-"

Now Ametila frowned as she interrupted, "Fling?"

"Sure. I mean come on, girl friend! You can't be thinking the relationship is going to last forever, can you? I mean, a demon like you and a human like him? Puh-lease," Gillian said knowingly.

Ametila thought for a second. "I don't know, stranger things have happened. Besides, after you've had a human? Trust me, you don't ever want to go back..." she said with a grin while walking back into the club, leaving a slightly puzzled Gillian behind.

Richmond, Virginia. June 9, 2001

Xander groaned, as he slowly came awake that morning.

His head was not in good shape. Harris could tell from the sunlight on his face that he was still sitting in the chair on the balcony, where he had been drinking the night before. He shifted his foot, knocking over a shot glass as he did.

Some of the events of the night quickly came back to him. The bourbon had loosened his tongue, and Xander had spoken about Spike - and not just the facts, but also his pet theories.

Like the vampire had actually pretended to be Billy Idol for a while, on a dare. And that had led to some drunken singing...

"It's a world of demons

A world of fear

But there's still one hope

That we all hold dear!

It's a woman that we trust

To find ways to kick their butts

It's a Fred world after all!

It's Fred that we all call friend!

It's Fred that we call genius!

It's Fred that we call Siberian!

It's a Fred world after all!

EVERYBODY!"

There were some hazy memories of the Texan woman howling with laughter over that, along with Oz starting to play the guitar for a proper sing-along - or maybe that was all just his brain making stuff up, in order to try to deal with the pain as best it knew how. Harris honestly didn't know right now.

Banishing such thoughts, a quick check showed Xander that he was alone on the balcony. "Damn, how did he do that?" Xander wondered out loud, as he held a hand to his forehead. "I should have been able to drink Cleburne under the table..."

"Don't feel too bad. You came damn close," Cleburne said as he walked slowly onto the balcony, carrying two glasses of a reddish liquid. He handed one of them to Xander. "Last night, kid? You proved you can keep up to me in a drinking contest, and there's not many who can make that claim in this world! I've just had longer to take some aspirin," the Marine said, as he sat down in an empty chair.

"Oh no, I'm not going to be the only adult here. You two need to grow up!"

Xander looked into the apartment, where a middle-aged blonde woman was standing with a severe look on her face. She continued speaking, "Cleburne, what the hell have you done this time?"

Without looking behind him, Cleburne spoke up, "Kid, meet Dr. Christine Reynolds, USN. Dr. Reynolds - meet the kid, otherwise known as Alexander Howard. And basically kid, she's here to tell me if your brain is all there..."

Twenty minutes later

Xander took another gulp of the reddish liquid that Cleburne had given him. The Marine had said it was some sort of tomato-based hangover cure, and the former Scooby did admit to himself that it seemed to at least deaden the pain from last night's drinking binge.

Of course, it wasn't really helping with Xander's main problem right now; a scowling Christine Reynolds sitting across the kitchen table from him. Oz was absent from the apartment, and Cleburne had cleared out when Reynolds had started making her displeasure at his antics known.

In fact, Cleburne had muttered something like "Kid, you're on your own!" while Reynolds had said she would talk to the USMC colonel later about what he had done. Fred had been persuaded to go with Cleburne, although Harris got the feeling she wasn't too happy about that - her protective instincts in overdrive at the new female intrusion in her life.

For now though, it was just Xander and Dr. Reynolds in the apartment. And in a nutshell, the young man was hung over, irritable - and not in the mood to deal with some goddamn shrink!

"This is not how I wanted to meet you."

Xander looked up at Reynolds' comment. "Well, to be honest - right now I would have preferred you passing up on the honor, myself," was his reply.

Reynolds ignored that. "So, Cleburne explained who I am?"

Xander sighed. "Yeah. But look, I've been through all this before - say, you ever hear of a Dr. Angleman?"

Reynolds nodded slowly. "Oh yes, and I've even met him once. He's enjoying his stay at that clinic in upstate New York. Quite the little mind game you played on him, I have to say..."

"Hey, I just told it to him the way it is!"

Christine permitted herself a snort. "And yet somehow, I suspect that it involved a little bit more than that! Other people know about the way things really are in this world, and handle it quite well; well, better than others," the woman said, as she nodded towards one of the empty bourbon bottles Cleburne had put in the garbage bin.

"Look, doc, let's face it - some people just can't handle the fact that humanity isn't at the top of the food chain. That we're just walking Happy Meals for things with fangs and sharper teeth," Xander explained. "Don't you think?"

Reynolds' brow crinkled at Xander's comment, taking it somewhat personally. "I've been doing this since 1983, you know. As Joshua's doctor, I know all about the shadow world that the man on the street is ignorant about-"

"Well, newsflash, but the world of spies and terrorists is vastly different to the one of demons and vampires! Fairy tales are real, and they bite," Xander said grimly. "I don't know what you've gone through with Mother Hen, but just knowing that demons are out there can't adequately prepare you for what really goes bump in the night!"

The blonde doctor actually smiled at that. "You underestimate the good colonel. I'm quite prepared for bumps, I know all about Innsmouth. And I've even seen some of the prisoners from that raid."

Xander raised an eyebrow at that. "You've seen the demons caught back then?"

Reynolds nodded. "Oh yes, I went out to Warehouse 23 a couple of days ago, so that Cleburne could introduce me to the demon aspect of the job. Those fish creatures, they're leathery old things just laying there in their tubes. Their eyes don't even blink."

Xander looked thoughtful for a second. Reynolds continued, "By the way, Joshua's told me about that high school swim team incident you filled him in on. Granted this is just my opinion, but I don't think these creatures are the same things at all. I didn't see any spark of humanity in them."

"So Mother Hen told you some things about me, big deal. That doesn't really change anything," Xander declared far too defensively, unable to help it.

"Of course it does, it helps me treat you better! A good doctor has to know as much as possible about her patient. However, I would like to hear it directly from you. Your past, that is."

"Nothing to tell there," Xander instinctively tried to stop Reynolds from delving into his background.

But the blonde woman just smiled. "Oh, come now - everyone has a past and a story to tell. And your story is quite interesting, you have to admit! It made you who and what you are today."

Xander rolled his eyes. "And that's such a happy story, isn't it?"

"You tell me...oh, wait. What should I call you?" Reynolds suddenly asked.

"Alexander Howard. For now, anyway," Xander answered pragmatically.

Reynolds thought for a second. "Cleburne told me your real name last night, before he left my office - and obviously came here, for his...nefarious activities. Now, I know the reasons why you use the alias and everything, but for our purposes during these sessions - your real name is the one we should use, don't you think?"

"Whatever."

Reynolds adjusted her attitude a little. "All right. So then, Xander Harris, why isn't your life a happy story?"

Xander looked at the doctor in amazement. { First Fred, now her. What is with the women in my life nowadays, do I put out some sort of 'hurt puppy' vibe? Huh, maybe Larry had the right idea after all - God rest his soul... } "Doc, you know my situation, or so I'm told. So you should know why I'm gonna be a hunted man till the day I die - and you ask me why my life isn't a happy story?"

Reynolds raised an eyebrow, adjusting her attitude a bit more. "You've got your health, protection and friends. There's a lot of people out there who would say that's more than what they have-"

"My health? Come on, I'm some kind of physical and mental freak - who should guest-star in the next Highlander movie! Protection? I live in a gilded cage, by any other name, even if I accepted that voluntarily. And friends...well, at least they're better than the ones I had in high school," Xander blurted out, not liking how Reynolds was attempting to get under his skin this way.

"Tell me about them," Reynolds said at once.

"Well, there's Oz, I've known him ever since I was 17 years old. Good candidate for a Jedi Master, and also a guy who plays one mean solo guitar riff! Then there's Fred-" Xander started, before being interrupted by Reynolds.

"No, I meant those friends of yours from back in high school-"

"Sorry, but I'm not going to talk about them. Not here, not now, and not with you. I don't care what kind of field op override you can generate within the system, that topic is off-limits," Xander said, a look of annoyance and determination on his face.

Reynolds contemplated her new patient for a second. { He's becoming far too hostile and defensive, even for a first session! Best save all that for another time, let's concentrate on the immediate problem for now. } "Okay, what about Rachael Weitz?"

Xander suddenly looked more annoyed than ever. "Dr. Reynolds, you *really* don't want to get inside my head that way. Because if you do? Here's a quick run-down of future events. Within a month, you'll start having bad dreams and nightmares from all the things I'll tell you about - especially with regard to Pylea. Within three months, I imagine you'll be seeing your own shrink on a very regular basis. Within six months, you'll be facing a review board on whether or not you'll be allowed to keep your license; remember what happened with Dr. Angleman? And within a year, odds are you'll be on the wrong side of the doors of a padded cell, just like that place in New York!"

"Mr. Harris-"

But Xander just kept on going. "That's what my problem with head shrinkers is really all about, you know, apart from the Maggie Walsh factor. My life, everything about me...it simply can't be categorized, classified, labelled or pigeonholed - like the rest of the people on the planet that you guys deal with. And hey, the world that you and your colleagues live in? In my opinion, it's a fool's paradise; but enter my world, and I promise you that you'll soon find yourself locked out of the Garden forever..."

Christine Reynolds just sighed. This was obviously going to be a *long* day.

Ministry of Defense, Stockholm, Sweden. June 10, 2001

"Private Sven Fridolin reporting as ordered, sir!" the blonde man in the Swedish Army stood at attention in front of a large ornate desk.

The officer sitting behind it casually returned the salute. "At ease, private. Your English, I'm told, is very good - so for the purposes of this meeting, let us use that language, hmm?" He then went on, "It is my understanding that you were an exchange student in the United States for a while, were you not?"

Sven, who had indeed been the 1997 exchange student assigned to Cordelia Chase in Sunnydale back then, assumed the 'at ease' position familiar to military personnel all over the world. "Yes sir, I was a student in a small town located in southern California for two weeks."

"And how did you find that experience?"

Sven frowned, as he recalled how badly Cordy had treated him then. But then he inadvertently smiled, remembering how he had scored with her friend Gwen the night of the international dance - before eventually leaving the Hellmouth. Then he quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression, "I found America to be a very interesting place, sir."

The Swedish general nodded, keeping in mind that Sven might have actually met the Timetripper back then; which gave his military career an unexpected boost light years beyond that of any of his immediate comrades. "Have you ever thought of continuing your education there?"

Starburst chamber, Naracoorte Caves, South Australia. June 11, 2001

{ Stupid lousy desert of a country... } the female vampire known as Darla grumbled to herself, as she made her way towards the center of the cave. { No wonder Angelus and I never wanted to come here in the old days! }

It had been quite a long road getting here, as a matter of fact; ever since the trip to Mexico had failed to tell her what she'd wanted to know, the blonde woman had decided to head down under to find a shamaness that she'd heard could answer any question you asked - for a price.

And *this* pregnant vampire had plenty of questions, to be sure.

It was late at night, and this place - which six months ago had become a national park - was currently closed to the public. But that hadn't stopped Darla from getting into the limestone caves, which had been around ever since the Pleistocene era; before the Old Ones themselves had been thrown out of this reality.

Finally she arrived at her destination, and looked around...

And suddenly, Darla couldn't move.

"You risk your immortal existence coming here before me, dead thing."

In an instant, the entire chamber appeared different. Stalactites and stalagmites were suddenly everywhere, glowing with an intense luminescence. And the fossils of creatures extinct for eons lay before her - along with a black-skinned and grey-haired old woman, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the cave.

To her relief, Darla found that she could still talk. "You're the one they call Truganini?"

The old woman chuckled. "An ancient name, best known for the last of an extinct people - who were all killed by the white man, one way or another. Did you know that when the original Truganini died, she wasn't even allowed to rest in peace? Her skeleton was exhumed, studied for scientific purposes, and displayed for decades in a museum..."

Darla ignored all that. "I have questions. I was told you have answers."

The shamaness squinted at her, as well as *through* the ensouled creature. "I see light surrounded by a darkness. A vampire with a human soul? It's not every day you see something like that...very well. Ask your questions, dead thing."

"My name is Darla," the vampiress shot back bitingly, really wishing now that she could move. "You annoying old woman!"

The human chuckled mirthlessly, and gestured around. "You think I'm old? Look around you, dead thing. This cave is the final resting place of *things* that were ancient, when your kind were mere *victims* being hunted down by the Turok-Han..."

Darla felt a thrill of terror shoot though her at hearing that. "You're lying! The Turok-Han are just a myth-"

Truganini just brushed that aside. "Ask. Speak. We can settle the price later."

Darla took a deep, unnecessary breath. "How is it possible for a vampire like myself to get pregnant?"

The shamaness squinted again. Darla wasn't even four months gone, but a slight bump was visible - that might have been explained away by a recent eating binge. Or a vampire blood belly, or whatever. "Come closer..."

Darla cursed as her body was manipulated like a puppet on strings, and she walked forward. But before she'd even taken three steps, Truganini looked alarmed and shouted, "Stop!"

The female vampire instantly came to a halt. The old woman said in amazement, "Something new under the sun, after all this time..."

"What?" Darla demanded.

"You carry a son. A male child, a miracle - life, that somehow arose from death," Truganini whispered in complete astonishment at what she felt from her companion. "And you will not be able to kill it while it sleeps inside you, if that is another question you wished to ask me; this baby is protected by the strongest mystical forces I have ever felt. SOMETHING wants your child to come to term."

"My son...his name is Connor," Darla said slowly, somewhat in a daze and thinking about Xander's letters all over again. Suddenly she blurted out, "Have you ever heard of anyone named Xander Harris?"

"The warrior seer? You know him?" the shamaness demanded, as the Timetripper's legend had by now made it even to here, a cave at the bottom of the world.

A shrug. "I know *of* him, and likewise he knows of me. Apparently I met him a number of years ago, when the man was nothing but some nameless human teenager, but he told my son's father-"

"Evil. EVIL!" Truganini shouted, suddenly sensing the arrival of a malevolent intruder - invisible and noncorporeal, but still present nonetheless.

The First Evil.

"GET OUT! And never return, dead thing!" Truganini then screamed, even as she gestured frantically and forgot about anything regarding payment for services rendered.

Darla blinked for less than a second, suddenly finding herself alone in the darkness. "What-?"

But there was no sign now of the shamaness, or anything else - apart from the empty chamber. Clutching her belly protectively, the female vampire just made her way back towards the cave entrance - with more questions now, than before she'd entered this place...

Georgetown, Washington D.C. June 12, 2001

Esther Marcum held the door to her office open as the two men came in. "Good morning, gentlemen, come in - have a seat..."

The two men, one of them in military uniform, quickly sat down as Esther made her way to the chair behind her desk. "So, Agent Fletcher tells me we can provide some help to our neighbors up north-?" Marcum started to ask.

The two men exchanged glances and the civilian started out hesitantly, "Well, this is all highly irregular..."

Esther actually smiled at that. "Of course, most of what has gone through this office for the past couple of years has been of the...strangest nature. However, I shouldn't interrupt - please go on," she nodded at the two men.

The uniformed one spoke up, "The local RCMP forwarded certain information onto Ottawa. Some discreet inquiries led us to the former FBI agent named Malcolm Fletcher, and he in turn directed us to you..."

He looked at his civilian counterpart for a second. After a nod, the officer handed over an envelope to Esther. "I know these look utterly fantastic, but nonetheless - we've identified them as also being completely authentic. We've been led to believe you've encountered something like this before?"

Esther took the envelope and opened it. She pulled out the pictures that were in it, studied them - and then nodded. "Indeed, but not to worry gentlemen. We've successfully dealt with this sort of creature before, as a matter of fact - I already have someone in mind to help you out..."

TBC...