Part Forty-five

Richmond, Virginia. June 25, 2001

Xander controlled the recoil of the Sig Sauer 226 pistol perfectly, as he fired off a round towards the paper target at the end of the target range.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Harris quickly shot off three more rounds in quick succession. He could see the paper target shake from the impact, as the bullets slammed home. Xander then lowered the pistol, and took off the ear protection he had been wearing.

Suddenly, the paper target whirred to life and started coming to the shooter on its mechanical track. Xander looked behind him, and saw Cleburne pressing the button to bring the target to the firing line.

The Marine just glanced at Xander. "Wolfie told me you were down here," he explained.

"Just getting some target practice in," Xander responded. As the fact was that the apartment building had recently had installed a soundproofed shooting range in the basement, for exactly this sort of purpose. It seemed having a USMC colonel as a landlord held some unique advantages, as far as Xander's personal desires were concerned.

"I heard, they tell me you're spending a fair amount of time down here - and it shows," Cleburne remarked, as he took the paper target down off its track. "All kills," the secret agent said as he examined the four holes where the heart would have been on a human.

"It's not good enough yet, though, I can feel it. I need to get my old edge back," Xander replied. "But at least it's a start. And it was easy, really - all I had to do was imagine certain faces on the target."

Cleburne raised an eyebrow, and Xander said simply, "Spike and Drusilla."

Joshua frowned. "Just don't be unprofessional about this, okay? You know the old motto - be prepared."

Xander shook his head. "I was never a Boy Scout as a kid, there was never a chapter in Sunnydale then. Mayor Wilkins introduced them later-" And then just for a moment, he smiled wolfishly over the fate of that soulless demon-wannabe.

"Pity," Cleburne said simply, making a note of Xander's expression. "It was a great learning experience, being in the Scouts..."

Cleburne put a new target on the track, and sent it down to the end of the range. He produced his trademark .357 caliber revolver, and picked up a spare set of ear protectors. "Cover up, kid," the man said absently, and Xander in response put his own set back on.

The Marine sighted in and fired off several rounds. He then brought the target back to the firing line. A quick examination of the target showed five holes in the head of the humanoid outline.

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Five holes?"

Cleburne shrugged. "I shot more times than you did." Cleburne then holstered his pistol and the two of them started walking away from the firing line. "By the way, Dr. Reynolds says she thinks you're making progress-"

Xander harrumphed loudly at that. "I still don't like shrinks messing around inside my head, Cleburne. They always seem to find things up there that they don't like-"

"Well, what do ya expect, that they'll put you on the front cover of 'Sanity Fair'? Good grief, kid, after that first session a few weeks back - Reynolds was ready to recommend that you get put into the psycho ward immediately!"

Xander stopped at once. His eyes went hard and flinty, and instantly Cleburne decided to backtrack. "Well, but that was never an option of course. I had to explain it to the good doctor that there was an Executive Order preventing her from ever doing that."

"The President signed an Executive Order?" Harris asked suspiciously at once.

Joshua fished around in his jacket, and produced a piece of paper. "Here."

Xander read the paper slowly. "Executive Order 13206, Termination of Emergency Authority for Certain Export Controls?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't want to get yourself exported into the loony bin, right?"

Xander shrugged. "Good point. Remember Dr. Angleman?"

Cleburne rolled his eyes at that. "Kid, Angleman was Walsh's protégé from day one, which really don't speak well of his stability in the first place! Anyway, bottom line, Reynolds says she thinks you're good for field work, well - one of the two minor ops we're planning right now."

Xander got angry over that as they started walking again, he just couldn't help it. "I'm not some green rookie-"

"I know you're not. But in our line of work, well - burn out and fatigue is a real danger. I'm not throwing you into the deep end only to watch you drown."

Xander grumpily didn't respond to that. Cleburne continued speaking, "Besides, where we're going is beautiful country this time of year. Real Nature TV stuff. Outdoors will give you a chance to reflect and recharge your batteries."

"Oh, great, I'm going to go find myself. So where are we headed, Tibet?"

Cleburne shook his head. "No, no, let's not get the Chinese all riled up sending you there! In fact, we're going to Idaho."

"Idaho?" Xander said, reminded of that episode with Razor's gang last year. But then he doubted that he would be allowed into some sort of combat zone like that again so soon. "What, there's a potato demon on the rampage over there?"

The mismatched duo finally came to the elevator that would take them back up to Xander's apartment. "Nothing of the sort. Small town up there is complaining of a demon clan eating their cattle, and the like. Thought we should go and take a look," Cleburne said as the two of them stepped into the elevator.

"Just don't expect me to be happy about all this," Xander replied grouchily.

"Well, to be honest, kid - how happy can anyone be living in Idaho?" Cleburne said with a slight smirk, as the elevator doors closed.

Private Mansion, outskirts of Vienna, Austria. June 26, 2001

The minion entered the chamber, suppressing a shudder as he did so.

He was always just a little unsure of how to handle his employer, even though by her standards he had lasted an awfully long time in his job. This undead woman had a nasty temper, after all, when things did not go her way.

The servant gathered up his courage, and approached the window where she was looking out at the night sky. "Mistress?"

"Yes?" the one-time Countess Bathory said without bothering to turn around.

"I have word from the Order of Taraka," the retainer said as calmly as he could.

"Them again?" Bathory sighed. "I thought they had already carried out their assignment!"

"Yes Mistress, indeed they did kill the human child known as the Wizard," the retainer said, not knowing that this information was in fact false. "However, there's some additional information that's just come to light. It appears that the one known as the Timetripper was only wounded during the assassination."

That caused Bathory to turn around in a sudden rage. "The Timetripper, he's still alive!?"

"According to the information - he died but was resurrected afterwards, Mistress," the retainer said in a respectful tone, even if he was instantly quaking on the inside. "Thus, the Order is claiming that technically, their work was still carried out to the letter if not the spirit of the contract involved."

Bathory played with the wine glass she was holding, somehow dampening down her furious annoyance. "Damned imbeciles. And they'll probably want to get paid again to do the job right the next time, won't they? But never mind that for now. The enemy was effectively only wounded, you say - but how badly?"

"The Order only knows that he was shot and in the local hospital for a short while. Since then, the man has not been seen again."

"Haven't they been able to find out anything else? Surely their people on the scene knew more than just that!"

"Mistress, the Order did not admit it to me - but I have nonetheless learned that in actuality, they used the one known as William the Bloody to carry out the assassination. This was in exchange for paying off a debt of his to the Order, that was incurred a few years ago."

Instantly, the Bloody Countess was back in the Rome of 1894 for a moment; when she had crossed paths with the four members of the Scourge of Europe. "Spike, hmmm? Most unprofessional of them, I have to say. He's far too...sloppy in his work," Bathory said in distaste.

"There is more, Mistress.'

Bathory nodded at her servant. "Go on."

"The Order apparently received triple the payment you agreed to for the assassination."

The former member of Hungarian royalty frowned at that. "How is that possible? They certainly didn't get that much money from me!" she said crossly.

"Indeed not, Mistress. However, besides yourself, two other entities provided payment. The human terrorist group known as al-Qaeda contracted for the assassination of the Wizard. Wolfram & Hart contracted with the Order as well, although it is currently unclear as to who exactly they wanted dead."

Bathory looked thoughtful. "I assume that if you were able to find this out, others were also able to."

The servant knew that the truth was the wisest policy on that. "Mistress, I do not know for sure-"

"Then find out!" Bathory snapped.

"Yes, Mistress." The retainer started to leave the room.

"Wait!" Bathory said, as something else occurred to her. "Find out more about the Timetripper's situation. If the humans believe that it was someone other than us who was behind that attack, I may be able to address the problems facing us in a different way. Find out all you can, also...find out about the Timetripper's past."

"Yes Mistress, is there anything in particular you wish for me to focus on?"

Bathory smiled in a sly way. { Men may think they rule the rule the world, but in actuality they're ruled by their own libidos. Ever it be so for all of them, once they hit puberty! } "Yes, learn everything you can about his girlfriends."

The servant nodded. "As you command. Ah, I'm already familiar with some of the legends-"

"Indeed? Why?" Bathory frowned.

"Merely a personal hobby, Mistress, once you indicated your interest in the Timetripper to the Immortal. But to begin, there is that Hebrew woman, the one who was recently killed at the same time that the Wizard was. There is also that dead Slayer, whose soul was recently the property of Wolfram & Hart-"

"What?" Bathory exclaimed, showing surprise for once in her un-life.

"Such is my information, Mistress. And while I'm not sure if she should be included after all this time and their acrimonious parting, apparently there is also that female seer that's the minion of your old acquaintance, Angelus. She's the only one of the three still alive, if that is relevant."

The breathtakingly beautiful female vampire just got another sly look on her face as she purred, "Interesting..."

Kingman's Bluff, Sunnydale, California. A short while later

Giles used his arm to wipe sweat from his forehead. He sat down on the ground, placing the map he had been carrying down next to him.

"I don't even know where the damned thing is, maybe if I got a really big shovel..." Giles muttered, but unfortunately for him, not softly enough.

"Sorry, Mr. Giles? What did you say?" Andrew asked.

Giles sighed. "Just contemplating that there has to be a better way to find that temple..."

The Englishman regretted having only been able to get Andrew to help him in his search. Jonathan had briefly left town; and the girls had either been unavailable, as the case was with Buffy, Tara and Anya, or the task in question was too delicate for them to help out, as was the case with Willow.

After all, Giles wasn't quite ready to have the redhead help look for a Satanic temple that in a year or so she would have raised from the ground, in an attempt to destroy the world - according to Xander's third letter.

Mind you, Rupert hadn't been quite that blunt with Willow, having found a more polite and subtle way to avoid having her help. The witch hadn't read all the letters from Xander yet, after all. So Buffy and Giles had sworn Dawn to secrecy, and didn't see any reason to burden Willow with the details of future crimes that they hoped would never come about.

To that end, Giles was doing his part to make that possible future never occur. Thus, he and Andrew were spending time here on Kingman's Bluff. Andrew didn't know the exact reason they were there, though; he thought they were looking for a demonic nest. And in a sense, this wasn't a lie; after all, back in 1932, the worshippers of Proserpexa *had* been present there in force and about to destroy the world.

In any case, Andrew nodded to Giles' remark about simplifying the search somehow. "Maybe a sonar search? I, uh, I think I could rig something up..."

"You can?" Giles asked. "Ah, you do understand though that the nest is underground, not underwater?"

Andrew waved a hand above his head. "Yeah, right, of course! Underground, I mean, we can use ground radar instead - um, Anya could probably find something on ebay that's pretty cheap. I-I think. And there's gotta be a cavern or whatever where the nest is, right? Like in 'Lord of the Rings', when Frodo was..."

But upon noticing the Watcher's face, Andrew quickly focused. "So, yeah, anyway, we can try focusing on finding that, it'd be easier..."

Giles thought for a second. It seemed a surprisingly good idea, but the problem he had was with his companion setting it all up right. Giles had heard enough of Anya's rants on Andrew's shortcomings that he almost as a matter of course considered anything the young man did as suspect.

The former Watcher had no way to know though what the Trio would have accomplished in that history that Xander remembered, and what Andrew was truly capable of. Which included helping set up surveillance cameras all over Sunnydale, assisting in building a freeze ray, providing input on perfecting that invisibility gun, and getting free cable porn for himself, Warren and Jonathan to enjoy.

Still, all things considered, the ground radar did seem like a good idea.

"Very well, Andrew, we'll give it a try. Talk to Anya as soon as possible and we'll proceed from there, hmm?"

Poling Springs, Idaho. June 27, 2001

"Look, my herd of cattle has been cut in half - and I know that this story of wolves on the loose is just complete and utter crap! Wolves don't eat the carcasses whole, and they don't drag them off to store them elsewhere either. This is something else altogether!" the rancher declared.

Xander was listening only halfheartedly to the cattle rancher's tirade. Cleburne and Cyrus were paying much more attention, though. But the local sheriff was paying even less attention than Xander, since it was a rant he had clearly heard before.

"How long have your cattle been disappearing?" Cleburne asked.

"Disappearing? Hell, they've been a late night snack for those creatures up in the mountains for weeks! They're like Bigfoot without hair, but they also have horns," was the man's response.

Cyrus spoke up. "So you've seen them, then?"

The rancher seemed a little surprised by that question. "Well, no, not exactly. I mean, not a good look. On account of it's always dark and they move so darn quickly, staying away from the light. Jenkins, uh, he saw one, shot at it when it attacked him..."

Cleburne looked at the sheriff for a clarification. "Jenkins has the place about ten miles to the south. We'll be heading over there next," the lawman explained.

Cleburne nodded at that, and turned back to the rancher. "Mr. Lay, until we know for sure what kind of creature we're dealing with, it's probably best that you don't try to approach any of them. You might get hurt. Let us do our job."

The rancher harrumphed. "Well, then, hurry up and do something about the problem, okay? I'm losing money every day, and I'm sure I'm not the only one around here that that's happening to!"

A few minutes later, the three new arrivals were all in the sheriff's Blazer as he made his way to the Jenkins ranch. "You'll have to pardon Mr. Lay, he's always been a tad difficult to deal with," the sheriff explained.

"How long's he been here?" Cyrus asked in his distinctive guttural accent.

"About ten years or so, moved here back in the early 90s I think. And I can understand why he's upset about losing cattle; even during the best of times, he doesn't turn that much a profit. He tries, he really does, always talking about expanding his ranch," the sheriff answered as he pulled in front of Jenkins ranch house. "Now Jenkins here, his family's been working this land since before Idaho was a state."

The aforementioned Mr. Jenkins came out the front door as they approached the house, warily looking at the four. "Morning, sheriff," he called out. "Come about the dead cattle?"

"You bet, Art. These guys are from the Forestry Service, they're here to look into the animals that are doing the killing."

Jenkins peered at the three Siberians. "Never seen you gentlemen around these parts before," he commented.

"We're from Alaska, they had a problem similar to this a few years back. We're here to see if it's the same animals that are doing the attacking," Cleburne answered, picking Alaska as their origin knowing that anyone from Washington would most likely be under a cloud of suspicion with the rancher.

Jenkins thought for a second. "Come on, then," he said, motioning them into his kitchen. Once there, the rancher continued on doing what he had been doing when Xander and the others had arrived; fixing himself lunch.

Xander exchanged a look with Cleburne. They then both looked at the sheriff, who just shrugged his shoulders. Cleburne mentally sighed and then spoke up, "So, when did you problem first start?"

Jenkins didn't even look up as he answered, "About four of five years back, had a barn cat disappear every once in a while. Didn't think anything about it at the time; but looking back now, it's obvious I was losing 'em quicker than normal-"

"Barn cat?" Xander blurted out.

Jenkins looked up at Xander. "I thought you guys were supposed to know what you were doing," he observed dryly.

"He's a newbie. We're still teaching him the ropes," Cleburne quickly explained.

Jenkins looked at him for a second, then continued on. "Yeah, well, the cats I had in the barn to take care of the rodents, they disappeared every once in a while. Then about six months ago, something started messing with the cattle..."

Jenkins paused for a second before continuing. "Now, losing a barn cat, that's one thing. Man can always pick up another stray to get rid of the damn rodents; but my cattle, I need them to make money. I can't have them killed and their carcasses left out on the range! I have enough trouble as it is making ends meet, and dead cattle doesn't help."

"Could it be a bear or some other large animal doing the attacking?" Cleburne asked.

Jenkins shook his head. "No, I know what a bear attack looks like. Besides, I saw them a few times. They walk upright like a bear, but they're weird-looking."

"How so?" Xander asked at once.

Jenkins thought for a second. "Weird. Color of pea soup, skin all baggy and their ears? Floppy, like something from a Disney cartoon."

Xander nodded his head, but on the inside he was drawing a conclusion he didn't like. "About the height of a man?" he asked.

Jenkins nodded in return. "Yeah, at first it was taller than the ones I saw, at least I think so. With the cattle attacks though, they looked bigger than me. And originally, it was only one or so at a time. But the other night, during the last attack I saw four of them running away when I started shooting!"

Cleburne glanced at Xander, who nodded his head. He then turned to the cattle farmer, "Mr. Jenkins, I think you've given us everything we need for the moment. We need to make some calls to the office in Anchorage, but we'll be back in the next couple of days at most..."

The trip back to the hotel was taken up by small talk, as none of the Siberians wanted to talk too much in front of the sheriff. When the sheriff left their company though, Xander spoke up. "Something isn't right here. There are demons present, all right, but something just doesn't add up..."

"What do you mean?" asked Cyrus.

"For one thing, I'm sure Mr. Jenkins is lying about something." { And hey, it's quite the coincidence his surname is the same as the one Ahn chose way back when. Or is it? }

Cleburne just looked at Harris speculatively. "I'm assuming you have your reasons for saying that?"

Xander nodded. "Didn't you guys notice the inconsistencies in the descriptions of the demons, between Mr. Lay and Mr. Jenkins? And that guy seemed far less upset about all this, than Lay was. Not to mention how Jenkins acted a bit too casual with the sheriff, for my liking."

"That's not much to go on," Cyrus said, playing devil's advocate.

"Yeah, well, I've learned to trust my instincts. They're what kept me alive for 4 1/2 years in that slaver hell dimension," Xander shot back. { Holy cow, has it really been 2 1/2 years since I came back from there? It feels like a lifetime now. } "I'm thinkin' we'll need Oz. Cleburne, call Virginia right now and tell him I want the guy to join us out here, soon as he can."

Even as Joshua sardonically dipped his head in acquiescence, deep down he was pleased that Xander finally seemed to be getting back into the swing of things, issuing orders that way. { Kid's definitely officer material. Hmmm, maybe if he manages to last another 15 to 20 years doing this, one day I can even groom him to be my successor... }

1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. June 28, 2001

"You need to get out and have some fun!" Willow declared to her best friend.

Buffy sighed. "Will, I really don't feel like it-"

"Oh, come on! How long's it been, Buffy? Y'know, since you went out on a date or even to a party? It's been all Slayer mode all the time for you, hunt 'n stake. All work, no play..." Willow said playfully. "It's going to make Buffy a dull girl!"

Willow took a sip from her soda can, as she finished that statement. The two of them were in the Summers residence dining room at that moment, going over registration papers for the fall semester at UC Sunnydale. Surprisingly enough though, Willow had been the one to start talking about non-school things, as recently she had really been wanting to get into the whole college-y experience.

"Well, what do you wanna do, Willow? Hang out at the Bronze? I can do that. Hey, I do that already!" Buffy replied.

"Aw, Buffy! Bronzing it? Like, whenever you're there these days, you're just cruising for vampires to slay! Looking for them anyplace you can think of. It's like you miss it, when there was more vamp activity here on the Hellmouth - and every night had someone going grrrrr..."

"Guess I'm just not in the mood for partying and meeting people, Will. What with Mom's recovery, Dawn adapting to her new status in life and everything else, I just don't want to play at being Joan Co-ed," Buffy replied.

She started back up before Willow could reply. "Besides, I have too much on my plate right now; the job at the gallery, helping Mom at home and keeping my little sister in line. I don't have time-"

"Okay, that's it! I'm making my Resolve Face, see? Buffy, I am gonna get you to put aside the Slayage and everything else for once, and *make* the time to go out and have some fun. Whether you want to or not!" the redhead stated emphatically, pulling her features into that famous classic look.

Buffy looked at Willow fearfully, as she had long experience with Willow's resolve face. Her former fellow Scooby/friend Xander had once warned Buffy all about it. And it had once had an almost magical hold over that former class clown, but that had all changed before their senior year in this world - for obvious reasons.

Still. On Buffy, though not as effective, it got the job done.

Buffy sighed, "Okay, okay, but what can I do? I mean, really, the Bronze is pretty much it here in Sunnydale. You've already said you don't consider that relaxing. And I don't want to go to Los Angeles or anyplace out of town-"

Willow smiled at her victory, halfway tempted to do a Snoopy dance. "Oh, don't worry. Saturday night, I'm taking you to a pool party!"

Buffy raised an eyebrow at that. "A pool party?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah, a bunch of us from my old sociology class are getting together for an end of year party by the pool at this apartment complex. We're all allowed to invite a whole bunch of people, and it should be a blast!"

Buffy looked concerned, as visions of dancing conga lines and drunken orgies suddenly passed through her brain. "I don't know if I'm ready for something like that..."

Willow interrupted her, "No, you're more than ready!" She jumped up and started leading Buffy upstairs. "Come on, let's pick out what you'll wear," she said with enthusiasm.

Northern Canada. June 29, 2001

"Base, this is Dragonslayer. Nothing to report so far, I'm heading north for another hundred klicks or so," USMC pilot Major Arthur Hixon said, as he flew his Harrier jump jet above the Canadian mountains.

He scanned the sky in front of him, glancing at the radar screen every few seconds. He could see the blips of the two Canadian Air Force fighters that were his support on this mission.

"Roger, be advised that we've had a sighting about two hundred klicks west of your position," the ground controller responded.

"Copy that. Moving to intercept," Hixon said. He instantly maneuvered the Harrier to the west, in search of his target. He also gained altitude, figuring it would increase his line of sight. "Grizzly, this is Dragonslayer. Form up on me, copy that?"

"Roger," was Grizzly's reply as Hixon's wingman flew his Marine jet alongside the major's. "DS, think this will come to anything?"

Hixon rolled his eyes at Grizzly's use of his informal nickname. "It's out here somewhere, Grizzly, so we'll find it and terminate the bogey with extreme prejudice."

Ever since Hixon had returned from Pylea, he and the other sailors and Marines who had been on board the Wasp had found themselves getting more and more involved in the weird and not of the normal.

Not that they would ever tell anyone about it, of course. First off, it had been made clear to all of them that talking about their adventures would lead to prosecution under the code of military justice for revealing classified information. And military prisons were places to be avoided; on account of it wasn't like in the movies, where those places almost seemed to be like Club Med in comparison to real life.

Secondly, there was also the fact that almost no one would believe anything said by the liberators of Pylea. As far as Hixon knew, the secret had been kept - except for a few servicemen telling tall tales to women in the various bars. And what the hell, no one took off-duty soldiers trying to seduce their dates all that seriously.

In the meantime, they had been sent more and more on little side trips to deal with the paranormal, hence this trip to the Great White North.

Hixon looked on the heat tracking scope that had been installed on his console. After all, there was no guarantee that the target would show up on radar, but it definitely had a heat signature.

Last time he had tangled with one of these things, Hixon had managed to spot it and take it by surprise before it knew he was even there. He knew he had been lucky; and no fighter pilot, well good fighter pilot, relied exclusively on luck.

You took every advantage you could get, hence gaining as much altitude as possible.

"I've got something," Grizzly suddenly said over the radio.

In response, Hixon jerked up on his joystick and took the Harrier jet in a steep climb. His reflexes were sound as a few seconds later, a silver blur shot past to his left, where the Harrier would have been but for the climb.

"Hello there, shiny," Hixon muttered.

Off to his left and gaining altitude was a silver-colored dragon. If Xander had been there, he would have thought that it didn't much look like the dragon that had erupted out of the portal when that *asshole* Doc had managed to bleed Dawn, during that horrible night...

If anything, it resembled more the huge beast that Angel had been destined to face in that LA alley in the pouring rain, after the Circle of the Black Thorn was nothing but a memory.

It was a member of a species that had been confirmed in the pre-mission briefing as hostile. And so Hixon would swear later that it glared at him for a second, before darting off to the north. "Oh no you don't, come on back..." Hixon said as he set the Harrier in pursuit.

"I'm on your six," Hixon heard Grizzly say. He also heard confirmation from the two Canadian pilots.

"Negative," Hixon quickly ordered the two CAF fighters to cut to the south. "Make sure it doesn't escape that way. We'll close the trap."

Hixon then accelerated the Harrier in pursuit. He could see the dragon's wings flapping mightily, but his jet engines were too much for it to deal with and he was clearly gaining on his target.

The dragon noticed this, and suddenly bolted upwards and managed to turn around and face its pursuers.

"Watch out!" Hixon shouted, as he saw a line of flame emerge from the dragon's mouth straight at him. The Harrier jet then dodged downwards to the right to avoid the flame, just as Grizzly's jet did to the left.

"Not very friendly, is it?" Grizzly asked over the com channel.

Hixon turned his jet around and started after the dragon again, who had taken the opportunity of the distraction to dive towards the ground. He applied power to the engines and started gaining on the enemy again, "We'll just try harder to introduce ourselves."

Hixon noted on the scope that Grizzly was following him down. "Careful, remember this dragon has outflown the Canadians every time before now," his wingman warned.

"They're not used to the weird things in life. Besides, they didn't have these birds," Hixon replied. "Keep it busy."

Hixon then triggered his afterburners and zoomed forward in a straight line, flying by the dragon. The creature suddenly widened its jaws, obviously prepared to spit out fire again...

Only to cough a bit, when the cannon fire from Grizzly's jet impacted on its skin. The skin was thick enough to prevent any damage, but the rounds stung nonetheless. The dragon just turned and caught its breath, as it prepared to attack again.

At that moment, Hixon's jet rose up in front of the flying creature. And in the cockpit, Arthur heard the tone of a missile having acquired a target. "I've got tone," he said calmly, as the pilot pressed the trigger on his joystick.

Two missiles shot out from under the Harrier's wings, and shot towards the dragon. Within a few seconds, the missiles impacted on the dragon's snout. The creature roared, but it was quickly cut short as the missiles exploded in a gout of flame and destruction. The motionless dragon then started falling from the sky.

Hixon watched as the enemy fell, with no movement except for the actual falling. "Better make sure," Arthur said, as he pushed the joystick down and followed the corpse, although in a controlled manner.

"Roger that. I've got your back," Grizzly said.

"Don't worry," Hixon said, as he saw the dead creature impact against the ground with the force of an earthquake. "It's done. And looks like we'll need Dennison or someone else to paint a second dragon for me..."

Outside Poling Springs, Idaho. Later that night

Oz looked around the forest. "Odd," he said in his normal taciturn manner.

"I know, Oz, nothing makes sense here," Xander replied, looking thoughtful. "The stories don't match up with the way I've learned demons operate-"

Oz shook his head at once. "Not that. I mean the scents don't match up."

"In what way?" Cleburne asked from nearby. The Siberians had set up shop in the woods near Farmer Lay's place, hoping to catch the demons in the act. Oz had flown in from Virginia earlier in the day, and was now acting as a human/werewolf early warning system.

"Got one group of scents, over that way," Oz pointed to the northwest. "They're definitely not human. Not sure what they are, actually, but I've smelled something like them before in Sunnydale. The others, they're human but with a whole bunch of other stuff mixed in. They're coming from the south, and not making that much effort to hide themselves. Well, not demon-wise that is."

Cleburne thought for a second. "Okay, not sure how that helps, but it tells us there are two groups out there. Maybe some of the ranchers have gone out hunting demons themselves..."

Xander answered that one, "I don't think so. The ranchers we met with besides Lay and Jenkins seemed totally freaked out by what's going on. They didn't seem to be that pro-active to me, not once they learned who they were talking to."

Cyrus spoke up. "I agree, the one who talked about having gone hunting for the hostiles before - he didn't sound too enthusiastic to have another attempt at it."

"Okay, so the local pitchfork brigade isn't out trolling for demons. Let's see who shows up for tonight's show then," Cleburne said, fiddling with something on his belt. "Check the radios when you get in position."

The four men split up into pairs, and went to the chosen locales where they could keep a close eye on the herd of cattle they had selected. The quartet quickly made sure that they were in radio contact, and then settled in to wait.

"How you doing?" Oz asked suddenly, about an hour into their vigil.

"A little cold. Idaho can get a bit chilly at night," Xander replied.

"Not what I meant," Oz said simply.

"I know," Xander answered. { And you know that I know, old buddy. } "It's...well, I'm surviving, on account of it's what I do. Been doing it for so long now, I couldn't do otherwise if I even wanted to..."

Oz thought for a second. "There's more to life than just surviving. You know that, right?"

"For others, maybe. Not for me," was Xander's reply.

Oz looked at his old friend sharply. Before the werewolf responded verbally, he suddenly stiffened and cocked his head, lifting his nose upwards.

"Trouble?" Xander asked.

"Company," Oz replied simply. He keyed his radio to contact the others. "Guys?"

"I know," Cyrus said in response. "I count at least five coming in from the southeast."

"That's not all," Oz said. "I've got two demons coming from the north."

"It's never easy, is it?" Cleburne could be heard muttering. "Okay, Wolfie, you and the kid shadow the demons, don't get too close. Cyrus and I will start tailing the group from the southeast."

Oz and Xander started moving off cautiously in the direction the musician had smelled the demons coming. Xander trailed after Oz; he couldn't spot any sign of the demons yet, but the man implicitly trusted Oz's senses. They were one of the few things he *could* trust in, these days.

"They're moving to shadow the other group," Daniel commented.

"Not working as a team, then?" Xander asked.

"No team vibes at all, more stalker type vibes," Oz led Xander further in. By this time, the two of them had arrived at a small rise overlooking the cattle. Oz nodded towards a group of trees about 75 yards away. "They're in there. If we try to get any closer, they'll spot us."

Xander keyed his radio. "Our targets are tracking your targets. They've gone to ground, looks like."

"Copy that," Cleburne's voice came back over the radio waves. "The bright boys we've tagged are creeping up on the cattle. Looks like they have no clue we're here, or that they have other people stalking them!"

"What do you think will happen?" Xander asked.

"I guess we wait until these bright boys start whatever they're going to do," Cleburne replied. "And somehow, I don't think we'll have to wait long - as they don't strike me as the patient types."

Xander nodded at that and turned to Oz. "I don't suppose you brought some cards?"

Oz shook his head. "Sorry. No cards."

Xander sighed. "Oh, well."

The two of them were quiet for about a minute or so. "You ought to come out one night to see the band play," Oz said suddenly.

Xander looked at Oz. "Are we talking about the one and only group known as 'Werewolf Dan And His Screaming Demons'?"

The younger man shrugged. "We've been discussing getting a new name..."

"You guys've gotten better since then?" Xander asked with a half-smile.

Oz shook his head. "No, it's just you need to get out from time to time. Can't stay cooped up inside the apartment forever, y'know. Betcha Fred would love for you to take her to one of our gigs."

"And yet somehow, I can't help thinking that Mother Hen would blow a blood vessel if I told him I was taking a date to an alternative music concert," Xander said with a sudden grin. "Mind you, I enjoy giving him a hard time, but doing that kind of needless damage to the guy is too cruel - even for me."

"He'll understand. Man knows that you're not a machine," Oz commented.

"Have you told him this, pal? 'Cause sometimes, I wonder," Xander said with a smirk.

"He's worried. We're all worried," Oz declared.

"Don't be," Xander said simply.

"Can't help it, we're friends. All of us," Oz replied.

Xander softened a bit. "Look, I know you mean well, Oz. But this is just something I have to-"

Xander was interrupted by Cleburne on the radio. "The bright boys are making their move. Hold on!" Both Oz and Xander tensed in preparation for something; what exactly, they weren't sure.

Suddenly, the cattle started lowing fearfully and acting in a panic.

"Ah, shit!" Cleburne said suddenly.

Xander and Oz exchanged a glance. "What's happening?" Harris demanded.

A few seconds later Joshua responded angrily, "They're slaughtering the cattle! The bastards are really botching the job, too. Like they're intentionally doing it the wrong way-" There was silence for a few seconds, as Xander and Oz heard the sound of helpless farm animals being callously murdered not far away. "Okay, this has gone far enough! Get ready, we're interrupting this blood-fest right now!" the Marine colonel decided.

From across the range, Cleburne's voice carried in loud tones. "Federal agents, drop your weapons! On the ground, now!"

There was a series of incoherent shouts in response, and the noise of many people running.

"Damn it! Don't make me have to chase you!" Cleburne was heard to shout. This was followed by two gunshots.

"They're moving!" Oz said as he bolted up. "Come on-"

Xander followed the running Oz, as they went into the group of trees where the demons were. The werewolf darted ahead as Xander lagged behind, { This is pathetic! I need to work on my fitness a lot more, } Harris thought acidly to himself.

Ahead, he saw a flash of movement as Oz ran into the trees. Xander could also hear Cleburne shouting nearby, and clearly that man was not happy with the response he had gotten regarding his orders to the first group.

Xander ran into the trees where Oz had gone into. And suddenly, Daniel was in front of him. "They split up!" He pointed to the left. "Go that way and head one of 'em off, I'll chase the guy towards you." With that, Oz ran off the in the opposite direction.

Xander caught his breath for a second, and then ran off in the direction his partner had indicated. Running in the woods in darkness was always a challenge, so Xander was careful to not fall or interact too much with the trees. Suddenly, a figure appeared in front of him, and Xander had a quick flash of floppy ears...

Xander jumped forward, and tackled the owner of said ears to the ground. "Damn it! Will you stop trying to run for it!?" he shouted, as the former slave wrestled with the demon on the ground.

"Let go!"

"No. Just hold still already!" Xander shouted back at the figure he was still struggling with.

Oz ran up to join the party. "You got him," the werewolf observed.

"Yeah, but he's feisty-" Xander stood up, pulling his prisoner up with him and finally getting a good look at his prisoner. Xander then frowned in semi-recognition, "Clem?"

The floppy-eared demon shook his head. "Hey! I'm not my good-for-nothing gambling addict cousin. Whatever Clement owes you, it's none of my business..."

Five minutes later

"Get over there!" Cleburne growled, as he pushed a man in front of him. Cyrus came up several feet behind the two of them, as they approached Harris - who seemed to be alone.

"You got one as well?" Xander asked.

Cleburne noted Xander's statement with interest. "You found something?"

"You might say that," the former slave said, as he pointed behind him. Sitting there, with Oz watching it, was a wrinkly-skinned and floppy-eared demon.

"Hey, come on, you guys can't do this! I haven't broken any laws, and you've got no reason at all to hold me," Clem's lookalike cousin said in a grumpy tone.

"You've been busy," Cleburne commented.

"What can I say? I sorta ran into him, and turns out we have a mutual acquaintance," Xander explained.

The nonviolent demon grimaced at that. "Hey, mister, I don't know how you know Clement - but believe me, next time I call Sunnydale? I am so going to 'talk' to him about that!" The others could almost hear the quotation marks around talk, as the supernatural creature spoke. Cleburne frowned, somewhat worried about the security implications...

Xander wasn't worried though, as in this timeline - Clem had no idea who he was, as far as he knew. There was little to no chance the Scoobies would find out the big secret, thanks to Clem's relative shooting his big mouth off.

Cleburne then pushed his prisoner forward. "Get over there with your friend."

The prisoner stumbled forward, stopping himself before he could fall on the demon. "Keep that thing away from me!" he almost screeched.

Xander rolled his eyes at that. "Come on, here you are pretending to be a demon - and you're afraid of the real thing? Suck it up and be a man!"

"That *thing* ain't human, it's some kind of freak," the human said as he scrambled away.

"Hey, who are you calling a freak? *I'm* not the one running around in a costume and gutting cows!" Clem's cousin snapped back.

"A good point," Cyrus said. To emphasize said point, the South African threw the tattered costume the man had been wearing onto the ground before all those assembled. Cyrus then said to the human prisoner, "He was just loitering. *You* were engaged in acts which we could probably send you to jail for."

"Hey, we had permission!" the man replied.

"I'm sure the sheriff would be interested to know that," Xander commented carefully, watching the prisoner's face.

"Yeah? Shows what you know!" the demon said sarcastically.

Cleburne looked from his prisoner to Clem's cousin, trying to figure all this out. Then he said, "Okay, I figure that between the two of you, I should be able to get the complete story on what the hell's going on here - so start talking! And by the way, the longer you take to cough up? The more annoyed I'll get. And believe me, you don't want to see me get angry..."

The former Imperial Palace, Pylea. A short while later

Not long after both suns had set the warrior once called the Groosalugg, but now known more simply as Groo, walked swiftly down the corridor of the closest thing he could call home.

It had been a long six months for him and the rest of the Pyleans, ever since Xander Harris had arrived in this dimension. Because basically, there had been a drastic upheaval in society around here, as centuries of human enslavement had ended and the local demons had had to adapt to doing all the horrible jobs the menial 'cattle' had done.

After the Siberians had departed, Groo had embarked on a path of trying to achieve redemption for years of blind faithful service to the Covenant of Trombli. And his life right now was rather different to what it would have been in the original history, where he and Cordelia had met and fallen in love back in May...

Namely, Groo wasn't in command of the kingdom, after Her Majesty "Princess Cordelia" had left him in charge and departed back to LA with her friends. In this reality he was just another citizen around here, trying to live in a land where social confusion, economic depression and even the occasional riot wasn't at all uncommon.

Well, okay, maybe it wasn't all that bad; as after all the Green Berets and civil affairs people from Earth had managed to curb the worst of the roller-coaster transitional disasters to democracy. And oddly enough, Groo gave never-ending thanks that he wasn't the focus of all the human committees that had formed since then; committees that had also splintered into factions, factions which had become coalitions, coalitions that had turned into subcommittees, and so on ad infinitum into that most cruel of all homicidal creatures...

Bureaucracy.

Groo was content just to carry out the needs of the interim government, and try to maintain at least some semblance of order in Pylea. And the truth was, his reputation as the Groosalugg had been worth its weight in gold when it came to defusing 'situations' between the human and demon citizens. After all, no one with an ounce of sanity in his head was willing to risk getting hacked to pieces, if Groo should ever happen to lose his temper.

As the big guy walked along, he wondered what news the Major would have to impart tonight. The human soldiers from Xander's kingdom had certainly developed a good intelligence-gathering network, in the six months they had been here. It rivaled anything the Covenant had been able to put together, in the bad old days.

But just as Groo arrived outside Silas's former chambers (he who had been publicly executed, three days after Xander and his friends had left back in January), the champion suddenly heard his name mentioned...

"I think you're wrong in not wanting Groo to take care of that situation over at the scum pits of Ur," the SF Major pointed out to the two former rebels known as Sasha and Bartok.

The two Pyleans exchanged a look. "We happen to disagree," Sasha said shortly.

"You're letting your feelings cloud your-" the military officer started to say.

"Feelings?" Bartok snarled out. "You mean how even though the Groosalugg killed my wife and daughter last year, I should simply ignore that in favor of...expediency?"

The military officer adjusted his green beret. "Look, I know the guy killed a lot of your people when he was working for those demon priests. But that's all in the past now, right? I mean, as soon as he figured out the truth, Groo's done nothing but try to help. I've been watching him for nearly half a year...and are you telling me that he *hasn't* helped before now?"

"No," Sasha said reluctantly. "I will admit, the creature has been of tremendous assistance - especially in the early days, after the fall of the Covenant. But I still think his services are better off being put to use in hunting for that renegade priest, Barshon-"

"Oh, come on! No one's actually seen that guy in months. Even if he's still alive, he's not worth Groo's time to chase down anymore!" the human from Earth said heatedly.

"Perhaps not militarily. But then, I'm sure you know how Barshon's also become a...a symbol of sorts," Bartok said carefully. "For the demons, he's like the last remaining vestige of the old order. A beacon of hope for its return one day, if you will. And the symbolic value of having the number one enforcer of that regime bringing him before the new government, is worth far more than ridding those scum pits of Bleaucha demons..."

The Major had to privately admit that Bartok might in fact have a good point there. But putting that aside he said, "Well, then, let's move on to the next order of business, shall we? Namely, what's been happening in the factories-"

"If this is about the proposed production of Pylean guns and ammunition, save your breath," Sasha interrupted. "We need them, on account of you and your people will be leaving and going home someday, and the Groosalugg won't be around forever either."

"I understand that. But the word on the grapevine is that you're planning to use them to commit genocide," the soldier said with a disapproving look on his face.

Bartok snorted. "I only wish! Because the only good demon is a dead one. But you can relax, even the radical elements within the government know that that would instantly lead to an all-out war. And we've lost enough people over the centuries as it is! No, the guns are for peace-keeping only. And so that we can finally rid ourselves of the need for the Groosalugg's services!"

The conversation continued, but Groo didn't bother to listen anymore. He just turned and walked away, as he began to contemplate all that he had just overheard.

{ We were both right all along, Xander my friend, } the half-breed thought to himself sadly. { One day soon, even sooner than I had anticipated, my presence here will no longer be welcome. And when that time comes, I will indeed have to seek redemption elsewhere. }

Groo began to consider the possibilities. { I haven't forgotten how I promised you that you would be the first person I would come looking for, once my duty here had been fulfilled as best it could be. Because, Xander Harris, in all the universe - you are the only person I can truly call friend! Yes, perhaps it is time I began to plan for my departure from Pylea. And a fresh start elsewhere is more tempting now than I'd ever imagined, what with all the hate stares lately... }

Local Sheriff's Office, Poling Springs, Idaho. June 30, 2001

"Any idea at all? Nothing? All right, let me know when you hear something," the sheriff said, hanging up the phone as he finished. "Rayburn!" Sheriff Johnson then shouted.

The summoned deputy hurried into the office, cursing the fact that it was late morning by now and he still hadn't had his cup of coffee. "Yeah, sheriff?"

"Get over to the hotel and find those Forestry agents. Then bring them here, I don't care how you do it. Arrest them if you have to for not having the proper colors for hunting season, or whatever. Just get 'em here pronto!"

"Yes sir," Deputy Rayburn said as he left the office. But a few seconds later, he came back inside, "Sheriff?"

The man looked up in annoyance. "What? Were my instructions not clear?"

"No. It's just that they're here, Sheriff, coming in through the door right now!"

"Well, it's about time!" Sheriff Johnson said grouchily as he stood up.

"But something's weird. They have Gerald Collins with them in handcuffs!" the deputy blurted out.

"What? What the hell is going on here?" the sheriff said as he exited his office, and made his way into the lobby.

Present were Xander, Cleburne and Cyrus, escorting another man who had clearly been arrested. And if Sheriff Johnson had been there the night before, he would have known that the prisoner was the same man that Cleburne and Cyrus had captured in that demon costume.

"Hey there, sheriff. Missed you last night, huh?" Xander chirped, as he ceased to annoyingly whistle 'Yankee Doodle Dandy'.

"Hang on, kid, I'll handle this," Cleburne said before the sheriff could reply. "Sheriff Johnson, I'm afraid that under the circumstances we're going to have to use the county jail to house this prisoner and some others, till they can be transferred to Boise."

"Now hold on just a darn second! I want to know exactly what's going on. Just 'cause you're federal agents you can't just march in and grab up local citizens willy-nilly..." Johnson looked obstinate.

"Actually, this man ran into us," Cyrus commented cheerfully in his distinctive accent.

Cleburne glared at the South African for a second. He turned back to Sheriff Johnson, "Willy-nilly? No. Mr. Collins here was arrested last night after gutting cattle in a Halloween costume," Cleburne explained.

"You have proof of that? Witnesses? Until I learn otherwise, you're gonna have to let him go," the lawman said stubbornly. "You're just here in an advisory capacity, remember?"

"Well, that's what you thought. But actually we came here to see what was really going on around these here parts, as part of our federal mandate. Imagine our surprise to get caught up in a live action version of Scooby Doo!"

A frown was the only response from the policeman. "I don't like your attitude, and I won't have this malarkey going on during my watch. Is that clear?"

"Well, to be honest, I can understand why you're upset," Cleburne said somewhat snidely. "See, Collins here was kinda talkative after we started interrogating him last night. And what we've learned - well, neat little scheme you had going here, I have to say. You and your friend over at the property tax office found out about the state's plan for building a dam a few years down the road. You then got...friendly...with the local state senator to make sure you chose where the dam was built, right?"

"Mister, I don't like what you're hinting at!" the sheriff snapped back.

Xander started talking now, continuing Cleburne's explanation. "Thing is that after you could pick where the dam was gonna go, you could also figure out how to get the most profit out of your, uh, inside knowledge. See, I used to be in construction - that's how I know you can't just put a dam simply anywhere, the lay of the land won't allow it. The better the land is for the dam, the higher the price for it. And you and your merry little band of plotters wanted top dollar, right?"

Sheriff Johnson silently glared at Xander, undoing the strap on his personal sidearm. "How am I doing so far?" Xander asked, as he started wandering around the office.

"Pretty good, keep on going," Cleburne replied laconically.

Xander smirked and started up again. "Well, let's see. Sheriff, best as I can figure it, you knew what land would bring the most bang for your buck. And so you wanted to get your hands on it. 'Course, there were two problems with that..."

As Xander spoke, the man noticed another deputy drifting into the room. He went on, "You simply didn't own the best land. Other people like Mr. Lay owned it, and you didn't want to share the loot. So you had to get those people to sell their properties, in order to cash in on the dam construction scenario. You didn't want to have to pay too much for the land either, it'd cut into your profit margin. So you had to make it so that they'd willingly sell at a loss. It had to happen quickly too; you couldn't risk word of the new dam's construction getting out, now, could you?"

Xander walked over to the side of the room and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Of course, the second problem was there too. Now it's public record how you and your pals grew up around here; apparently your families have been in Idaho just this side of forever. You knew all the local legends. Also knew there was some truth behind them. Had to make sure that part of it was taken care of also, am I right?"

The sheriff snorted, "Son, I don't know what you're on. However, it's taken you on quite a trip!"

"You have no idea, sheriff, of what kind of trip I've been on ever since five years ago!" Xander's comment was rewarded with looks of consternation from his companions as he added, "Anyway, you obviously thought to yourselves, why not kill two birds with one stone. And the real bonus would be convincing Uncle Sam to do the real dirty work!"

"Dirty work?" one of the deputies said in confusion.

"Yeah, taking care of those people living on the land," Xander answered as he put down the coffee.

"But they'd be selling the land, wouldn't they? What kind of dirty work would be even be necessary?" the other deputy, Rayburn, asked earnestly. Earning himself a glare from the sheriff.

"No, the people selling the land wasn't who I was referring to. I'm talking about the various tribes living in the area."

"Tribes? You mean Native Americans?" Rayburn asked again.

Xander shook his head. He was genuinely happy that these two cops seemed amazed and disturbed by what they were hearing. Maybe it was just a few bad apples around here, after all. "No, not Indians, demons. In particular, the ones known colloquially as Face-dancers. Interesting species, apparently they can grow tentacles out of where their faces are! But generally they're nonviolent, the worst thing I've ever heard about them is that they eat live kittens-"

"So do the French," Cleburne growled. Xander looked at the Marine and he added, "Spent some time with the Legionnaires in Djibouti during my younger days. You wouldn't believe what they fixed up to eat sometimes, out in the desert," Cleburne explained.

Xander continued on, "Well, they've been living here for years, not really bothering anyone. Still, they'd need to be moved once construction for the dam was underway..." Harris then turned his attention back to the sheriff. "And you came up with the bright idea of scaring the landowners, and blaming it on the Face-dancers. The ranchers were sure to scream bloody murder, but lose enough cattle and they'd sell out for the price you wanted. Right?"

Cleburne took up the narrative. "Plus, you'd have the complaints of the ranchers to justify calling in someone to take care of your demon problem. You'd heard the rumors of what happened down near the Utah border last year, and how the army took care of that motorcycle gang. The same thing could work here, Uncle Sam would finish the job for you by removing the unwanted evidence!"

"Then you just sit and wait a few months till news of the dam gets announced. You sell the land, for a substantial profit of course, and you're rich with everyone who might be able to figure out what had really happened either gone or removed by the government. And the government wouldn't say anything anyway because, well, demons don't officially exist now, do they?" Xander concluded.

The sheriff, who had gradually become beet-red during the exposition by Harris and Cleburne, just stared for a second. "This has *got* to be the biggest load of crap I've ever heard, without it actually being bullrag in a pasture! What I think is that you arrested poor old Collins here like some goddamn Nazi storm troopers last night, just for laughs. Then got him to tell you that crazy story for whatever reason. Yeah, that's it! He told you this fantasy so you would stop slapping him around. Gentlemen, I would say you guys are in for a world of hurt-"

Johnson withdrew his gun from its holster - but somehow, impossibly, Xander was right there in front of him and jamming a Sig Sauer directly into his crotch. The two deputies then went for their own weapons, but the sound of Cleburne and Cyrus cocking their pistols and pointing them at the cops quickly persuaded the pair of the foolishness of that plan.

For his part, Xander just grinned directly into Sheriff Johnson's face. "To quote from one of my favorite movies, go ahead. Make my day!"

The sheriff was briefly tempted to call his bluff, but then he saw Xander's eyes.

There was utterly no mercy or human compassion there. Just an eagerness to do severe bodily harm. Johnson suddenly *knew* that he'd be singing soprano for the rest of his short and miserable life if he made one wrong move, so his firearm fell to the floor and then everyone relaxed.

"Smart choice. And by the way, your buddy Collins didn't tell us anything," Cleburne said, as he put away his .357 revolver. "We pieced it together from the other fellow we caught, and research a friend of ours did back in Virginia. After all, the corporate records have to be filed somewhere. They were the starting point which led to everything else."

The sheriff almost snarled, "You can't prove any of it. And if you have the mind to meddle in things that don't concern you, well, you're all alone up here in the mountains. It'd be hours before anyone can get up here from Boise!"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously, you're assuming that we didn't take that into account before we rolled up here this morning. You've clearly not been to the National Guard base since last night, huh? Also, there's a whole bunch of locals who want to talk to you about your little scheme, I'd guess they've heard the rumors by now. Sheriff Johnson, you got some 'splaining to do!"

Another deputy entered the lobby with a worried look on his face. "Sheriff?" he said.

"Not now!" Johnson waved off the deputy, as he glared at Xander. "Just so you know, I am the elected police official of the people of Poling Springs. Not only that, I'm loved here in town; I've been elected four times without an opponent. No one is going to say boo to me!"

"Interesting choice of words, Mr. Elected Official," Xander said with a smirk.

"Sheriff, you really need to-" the deputy interrupted.

"Will you shut up!?" Johnson suddenly shouted.

"I think he's trying to tell you to look outside," Xander said, pointing.

The sheriff eyed the Siberians for a second, before he went to the nearest window and looked out. "What the hell..." he said in disbelief.

Xander moved to where he could look out the window over the sheriff's shoulder. The street outside was filled with demons that all bore a resemblance to Clem; floppy ears, baggy skin and all. Not to mention an unpleasant expression on their faces.

"Like I said, I think some of the locals want to talk to you. And look, some people from out of town as well! Oh, see that guy over there?" Xander pointed at a human amongst the demons, just as a black Crown Victoria pulled up and Malcolm Fletcher plus several other FBI agents got out.

"He's a demon rights activist, by the name of Toby Dupree. Never heard of him before today, but apparently a lot of folks in LA and Washington swear by the guy. They think he's practically a saint, and are willing to die for his ideals. Guess he musta learned somehow that something hinky's been happening around here, huh? So, sheriff, what do you think is gonna happen once he asks the Face-dancers what's been happening to them lately?"

Sheriff Johnson quickly turned around to stare at the man he knew as Alexander Howard, but as he opened his mouth - the policeman suddenly realized that he had no idea what to say, that wouldn't just make matters worse...

Later that day

"How about hamburgers? With all this prime beef around here, there *has* to be some great burger joints close by!" Xander said happily as he and his three associates walked out of the sheriff's department.

"Kid, I'd have thought that after all the pancakes you had this morning, you wouldn't be thinking about food until sometime next week," Cleburne commented.

"I'm a growing boy. Need my vitamins," Xander replied.

"Do pancakes have vitamins?" Oz asked. This question got the other three to stop for a second.

"Ya got me on that one," Cleburne said while shaking his head, as one of the local demons came up to them. "Hello."

"Hi," the Face-dancer replied, who was actually the same guy they had captured the night before. "Just wanted to know - you guys *were* serious about all this, weren't you?"

"Well yeah, we meant what we said last night," Xander replied.

"No tricks?"

"No tricks. You'll get a fair shake from now on," Cleburne said.

"Dupree said something about the sheriff's department needing new deputies. And that some of us might want to apply. A demon cop, who would have ever thought it?" the demon nicknamed Ray said, shaking his head.

"Why not? We once had a demon vice-president," Cleburne commented.

Ray looked confused for a second. "I thought Gore was a robot?"

"No, I meant Agnew. Hey wait a minute, Gore's a robot?" Cleburne asked in disbelief.

"I think it's a cool idea. You ought to apply for the deputy position; whoever the new sheriff's gonna be, he's going to be needing help dealing with the new situation here in town, now that you guys aren't in hiding anymore. And who better to help keep a lid on things, if the people from Boise start poking their noses around here?" Xander said.

Ray looked at Xander suspiciously. "Okay, I gotta ask. You really know my cousin Clem?"

Xander thought for a second. "Kinda. I guess you could say so, I met him under somewhat...odd circumstances. He won't remember me though, that's for damn sure!"

"You're the Timetripper," the creature formally known as Ray-of-light said suddenly, as he had an epiphany. And Cleburne blanched at this observation.

"Come on, that's just a myth, there's no such person! He doesn't exist," the STW director of field ops quickly recovered.

Ray looked at the Marine with a skeptical look. "Yeah, just like demons, vampires and trolls?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "I've heard of this person, you know. And my opinion, he's just urban myth and rumor. Y'know, funky psychedelic groove guy and all that jazz," Harris lied as best he could.

"Riiiight," Ray said slowly. "Well, as he doesn't exist, then my tribe can't really express its appreciation to him. And that we owe this person who doesn't exist a great debt. We're an honorable people, you know, and we'll honor our obligations to this person who doesn't exist. We also honor those who do exist for what they did," the demon said with a nod to Cleburne. "Thanks, for everything."

Ray then turned around and walked back to the town hall, where Toby Dupree had set up shop. The Siberians watched him go.

"Let me see if I got this straight," Cleburne said with an annoyed look. "I do all the heavy lifting, plus Cyrus and I catch the local yokel which enables us to start the path of clues which let the Wizard figure it out for us from Washington. Then I arrange for the cavalry to come from out of town and get Fletcher all lined up to do his G-man routine. And yet, I have to share the credit with someone who doesn't officially exist?"

"Yeah. But then you're not in it for the glory, are you? After all, *I'm* the one who had to talk the demons into coming to town," Xander asked in a teasing tone, as the four walked to the car.

Cleburne frowned at Xander. "You're buying lunch," the man said simply, as he opened the driver's door.

Xander looked surprised. "Is this so I can contribute to the Cleburne retirement fund? I mean, you guys don't give me that much money!"

"You live rent-free, kid, I think you can afford it," Cleburne said grouchily as he got into the car, followed by the others. And thus, they were shortly on their way out of town.

Sunnydale, California. Later that night

"I had a wonderful time tonight," Buffy Summers said sweetly to the young man whose arm she was hanging off.

Surprisingly, Willow had been proven right as to Buffy enjoying a night out. Even if when Willow and Tara had arrived at 1630 Revello Drive to pick her up, just as she'd acted a few days ago - the Chosen One had not been looking forward to all this. She had been trying to think of a graceful way to get out of going, but luckily the Wiccans had refused to take no for an answer.

"Guys, maybe tonight's not the best time for me to go out and par-tay? It's just, I-I've been meaning to discuss that dream I had regarding the First Slayer with Giles again, a-and Dawn's been on my case about the shenanigans between him and Mom in her bedroom the other night, and-" the Summers girl had started to say.

"Uggh! Buffy, that's it! You gotta come with us!" Willow had said in no uncertain terms.

"Yeah, she's right...y-you need to be Buffy tonight. Not the Slayer," Tara had agreed with her beloved.

And so Ms. Summers had finally given in. However, when they had arrived at the apartment complex, Buffy had quickly found herself enjoying the chance to socialize and not worry about things that went bump in the darkness. Being an attractive and unattached young female, there had been no shortage of eligible young men who'd wanted to talk to her. Thus, Buffy had quickly fallen into her old Hemery High habits of being the center of attention at a party.

In particular, the center of attention for Stoddard, a junior majoring in economics. He was preppy, but more importantly to Buffy, he was also cute. So the beautiful blonde had found her attention focusing on the dark-haired college boy during the pool party. One thing had led to another, and as the party was ending, the young man had asked if he could walk Buffy home.

The young woman had accepted, on the theory that him walking around after dark with a Slayer was definitely a better idea than doing so without one. Buffy had told him she was spending the night at the dorms, in Willow's room. That way, she could walk Stoddard home and not have her mom asking questions about a new potential boyfriend.

Because although Joyce was getting to be more mobile these days, using her cane with ever-increasing frequency, she was still looking for things to do around the house to keep busy. And knowing everything about her daughter's social life was one such thing.

In any case, Buffy felt she should at least be allowed to *acquire* a boyfriend before Joyce sent him running off in terror. To say nothing of running in terror from her nighttime job.

"So, you're a psych major?" Stoddard asked, in reply to Buffy's remark of having had a great time so far tonight. "Getting to know people and all that?"

"Oh yeah," Buffy replied.

"Any type of people in particular?" the young man was grinning while talking.

Buffy smiled back. "Well, cute boys are my favorite."

"Well, well! Two sweet snacks before bedtime!"

Buffy instantly felt the presence of several vampires, as one of them stepped out of the shadows. { No, no, no! } she wanted to scream. { Can't I have at least *one* night off from the damn Hellmouth? }

"Hey, get lost fella," Stoddard said firmly, as he stepped in front of Buffy. And the Slayer was actually touched by that gallant action of her potential boyfriend.

"Tell me, big mouth, you wanna know exactly how much blood you have inside your body?" the undead guy asked in amusement. "'Cause I could tell you. And I can tell you're a little anemic...not much, but still!"

"How'd you know that?" Stoddard demanded.

The other vampires stepped out of hiding. And Buffy noted that they had managed to surround her. { Damn it, I have *got* to work on sensing the damn things earlier! } the Slayer thought to herself, knowing that her problems in sensing vampires had caused her and her friends problems before.

"Look, man, we don't want any trouble," Stoddard said hastily, seeing the 'gang members' all around him and Buffy.

"Fine. We just want a meal," the lead vampire said. "Get 'em."

"Buffy, run!" Stoddard shouted, only to find himself pulled back.

"I'll handle this," the Slayer said calmly and confidently.

Her stake was already in her hand, before she finished saying that. A quick head count showed that they were being menaced by five vampires. One of them, more aggressive and not to mention stupid than the others, ran into the stake as it charged forward.

"Slayer!" the lead vampire hissed out, instantly stepping back.

"Good evening, I'm Buffy Summers. And I'll be turning you into dust tonight," the female Champion quipped and then immediately launched a series of kicks and punches at the nearest vampire.

The bloodsucker parried the blows, but he was just a little too slow. Buffy landed a solid uppercut to its jaw, and it fell to the ground. Buffy briefly leaned down with the stake, and then she was facing three vampires.

She straightened up, "Who's next?" Ms. Summers said with a smile.

Two of the vampires approached her, one on each of Buffy's sides. They were clearly hoping to cause her to let her guard down on one of the sides. So Buffy adapted a strategy that Robert E. Lee would have recognized immediately, in attacking a numerically superior enemy to maintain control.

She did a flying kick towards the one on her left. It connected, and knocked the undead monster back. Her momentum carried her forward to the side of the building bordering the street they were on. Buffy then reached down and grabbed the lid of a garbage can. Without turning, she flung it behind her and it hit the second vampire directly in the chest, knocking him back and giving the Slayer time to concentrate on her target.

She made good use of the time, yanking her current opponent up. Buffy then slammed it hard against the wall, several times. The vampire clearly was in a state of stupor, and the final moment then came when Buffy let him slump against the wall so she could use her stake to administer the coup de grace through the heart. The falling dust marked where the third casualty of the night had met its fate.

Buffy turned to the vampire who had been the recipient of the flung garbage can lid. She had climbed back to her feet, and assumed a fighting stance. "Mother was right all along. You should never send a man in to do a woman's job," the soulless creature snarled.

The Slayer actually smiled at that one. "I agree! 'Course, that applies more to me than you..." She advanced on the female vampire.

The vamp tried a swinging crescent kick that Buffy easily ducked. "You're new at this, aren't you?" the Chosen One asked. "Most vamps, once they know they're fighting me? They'd be running right about now!" Buffy followed that up with a punch.

The vampire shook her head. "Going to bag me a Slayer tonight!"

Buffy almost groaned at that one. "Please, better vampires than you have tried! Besides, the last vampire to kill me, his name was the Master - maybe you've heard of him? Well, anyway, funny thing, but I didn't stay dead and he ended up in little bitty pieces on the ground!" Buffy did a sweep kick that the vampire jumped over, but this allowed the Slayer to roll forward and stand up behind her prey.

"Kinda like you," Buffy said simply, as she plunged the stake through the vampire's back into her heart. The demon's scream was cut short as she exploded into dust.

"Four down, one to go," Buffy then said, wanting to finish this off already. But she had miscalculated in thinking the head hog was gonna go down in a fair fight against her.

"Slayer, put the stake down!" Nearby, the lead vampire stood with his hand firmly around Stoddard's neck.

"You really don't want to do that," Buffy said with menace in her voice. She looked around, taking in the whole street, looking for an angle.

"What? You must be joking. I'm a vampire, it's what I do! Of course I wanna kill him, I'm evil," the vampire snarled back. "Didn't you read that part of the handbook?"

Bad memories of high school were instantly repressed as Stoddard shouted, "What the hell's going on here?"

"Be quiet," Buffy said shortly, trying to concentrate. { Come on, damn it, *think*... }

Suddenly, she jumped up and grabbed the fire escape above her head. The ladder started falling to the ground with a great roar, the rusty iron screaming and attracting the vampire's attention momentarily. It was long enough for Buffy to fling herself forward and tackle both the vampire and Stoddard.

All three fell to the ground. Buffy then leaned back, pushing down with her left hand and used her right hand to plunge the stake downwards, eliminating the last vampire.

"You all right?" the young woman then asked Stoddard.

The subject of her question scuttled backwards in obvious fear. "What...what the hell are you?"

"Hey, uh, I can explain..." Buffy started to say.

"No, no...those things, they knew you somehow. And what you did, that's not - you're not normal," Stoddard's face was ashen as he clambered up. "Look, no offense, and thanks for saving my life 'n all but - stay away from me. Please!" the young man shouted as he ran down the street.

"Stoddard! Wait!" Buffy shouted out fruitlessly. She then watched the no-longer potential boyfriend run out of sight, before the young woman sighed in despair.

"Why can't I just find a nice normal guy, who isn't instantly scared of what I am?" Buffy asked herself hopelessly.

Richmond, Virginia. July 1, 2001

Late during that evening, Xander looked up as the episode of 'Knight Rider' he had been watching on TV was suddenly switched off.

"Go to bed, kid, we're leaving first thing in the morning," Cleburne said from the doorway, the remote in his hand.

Xander frowned. "Hey, come on. It's Sunday night, and we just got back from Idaho yesterday! I'm planning on taking tomorrow off-"

"I don't think so. On account of we're heading off to Germany," Cleburne explained.

"Still not seeing any reason to interfere with my downtime, here," Xander replied.

"Order of Taraka. The plan's finally all set up, and now it's payback time," was the Marine's terse response.

The memories instantly came rushing back to the young man. Not only how that organization had recently used Spike and Drusilla to kill Rachael and even technically himself, but also how Oz had been wounded by that bitch Patrice - when she'd attempted to kill Buffy at the high school, all those years ago.

{ They're not Spike and Dru, granted, but they'll do for a start. } "I'll be there," Xander said simply, getting up and heading for his bedroom. "On account of I have a blood debt to repay, and those bastards are *not* gonna like my choice of currency..."

TBC...