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.

9. Chapter 9

Part Forty-nine

The Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. August 15, 2001

"Hello all. So, did you miss me?" Darla calmly asked the astonished Fang Gang now staring at her pregnant belly.

"You're, you're pregnant?" Wesley managed to stammer out.

Darla smirked at that. "Oh, so *that's* why I gained all this weight! And here I was thinking that it was the ship's crew I ate all the way here from Hong Kong."

"Darla," Angel said at once. They may have been together for nearly two centuries, but her sense of humor was often something indefinable even to him. So the male vampire had to say it. "Tell me you didn't?"

Darla walked down the stairs into the middle of the lobby. "No, no humans. Remember, I *do* have a soul nowadays, quite bothersome sometimes. However, quite a few pigs didn't survive the voyage." She looked around. "So, is anyone going to ask the pregnant woman if she would like to sit down?"

"Men," Cordelia muttered in annoyance, as she regained her poise. { Never mind how the *hell* she got pregnant, or who the father is for now. That'll have to wait! } She hurried forward. "Darla, c'mon, let's get you off your feet already! Do you need anything else? Blood?" the brunette asked as she guided Darla to a chair next to the check in desk, glaring at the men the whole time.

"Thank you. So Angel, miss me?" Darla asked somewhat sarcastically.

Angel was still fixated on the sight of her swollen belly. And unlike in a world where the prophetic words of Xander Harris had never reached his ears, his heart was soaring with happiness, tinged with worry, instead of shock and confusion. {Connor. You're here at last.} Then he pulled himself together. "Darla, where were you? I looked everywhere for you!" the guy demanded.

"Yeah, he sure did, drove us all crazy there for a while trying to figure out where you'd gotten to," Gwen said, taking in the new arrival with interest. "And just for the record, that was a real professional job of vanishing. I know of at least one occasion I wish I had been able to cover my tracks like that."

"Well, I've had a lot of practice," Darla said. "After all, I've been around ever since the early 17th century. Lots of times I needed to not be found in all those years." Angel looked closely at Darla as she sat down. "Cordelia, I could really use a mug of pig's blood if you have it."

Cordy smiled at once. "Of course we do." She looked around to Angel. "Well?"

"What?" Angel asked. "OH!" he said as he realized what Cordy wanted. "Wait right here." He hurried into his office.

Darla looked up at her one-time rival curiously. "Not to sound ungrateful or anything. But why are you being so nice to me?"

Cordelia smiled again at the blonde vampire. "You're pregnant. Who can be mean to a pregnant woman? Besides, I remember what it was like when that *asshole* Wilson Christopher impregnated me with his demon spawn."

There were several upraised eyebrows, as Wesley alone was the only other member of the gang present who knew about that. The Chase woman ignored it and went on, "Don't worry, after the birth and the time is right, I'll go back to treating you like the blonde-haired demon bitch that you are." Cordy managed to deliver that line in a tone that wasn't offensive and actually endearing in a certain way.

Darla smiled back. "Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way!"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "This takes me back to my boarding school days."

Angel came back in, cradling a coffee mug in his hand. He hurried over to the chair Darla was sitting in. When he got close Cordy took the mug from the vampire's hands and gave it to Darla. "There you go."

"Thank you," the mother-to-be said graciously to Cordy.

"Uh, standing right here? The guy who got the pig's blood?" Angel said plaintively.

"So, Darla," Cordy ignored Angel completely. "You're back. Going to stay for a while?" Wesley and the others just stared, trying to figure out how Cordelia had somehow taken control of the situation.

"Well, traveling is a problem for me." Darla waved her hands over her belly. "And I figured this was a good place as any to deliver the little bundle of joy." Darla looked at Angel. "I also have some things to discuss with the father."

Angel actually audibly gulped at that declaration. Cordy looked at her boss, and scowled viciously. {Yeah, why am I not surprised? I mean, who else did I really think it was? } "Uh-huh, I imagine you do. And by the way, Angel? We *will* be having words later on why you were *stupid* enough to risk unleashing Angelus that way!"

"You're pregnant," Wesley managed to stammer again. He was rewarded by everyone in the lobby looking at him strangely.

"Well, gee Wesley. What gave it away?" Darla asked. "I didn't think this dress looked all that maternity-like," she added with a sarcasm-laden voice.

"But this is impossible, you're a vampire. Vampires can't - I mean, they're not *able* to get pregnant," Wesley said firmly, yet somehow not losing any of his dazed confusion.

They all looked to Angel for confirmation. He shrugged, "Can't argue with that."

"And yet, here I am with a bun in the oven," Darla said, the sarcasm stronger than ever.

The former Watcher was now clearly confused. "This is unprecedented, nowhere in all my readings have I ever come across." He trailed off and looked at Angel, as a memory from last year surfaced. "Oh dear God. You knew?"

Angel really didn't want to answer any questions right now about that, as he glanced at Cordelia. Luckily, she didn't seem to remember that conversation. He turned to Darla, "I think we need to talk."

"I already said that." She struggled up. "Come on, this conversation doesn't need an audience," she said as the two of them entered Angel's private office. Leaving the Fang Gang in a confused state, although Wesley had a look on his face of working through something.

Angel's private office. A moment later

Angel closed the door behind him as Darla made for one of the chairs. "Damn, if I knew how hard it was to walk this way, well - I might have done more to avoid it." She looked up at the father. "So, I imagine you have questions."

"Damn straight. Where have you been?" Angel demanded. "Ever since we lost track of you in Mexico, I mean."

"Lots of places, I've been traveling quite a bit. Guatemala, Australia, Tibet, Hong Kong," Darla answered.

"Doing what?" Angel asked, halfway fearing what the answer would be.

"Honestly?" Darla asked.

"Yes, honestly," Angel replied.

"Well, at first I wanted to get rid of this child in my belly. Saw every witch doctor, shaman, mage and wizard I thought could help. None did," the woman answered. Angel's face showed a horrified look. "Don't worry, the little tyke is tougher than he looks. Took everything thrown at him and came up smiling. By the way, it's definitely a boy."

"I know," Angel commented.

"That's right, your old friend the Timetripper clued you in - long before I ever showed up! So, any other useful tidbits he's sent our way? Maybe a few winning numbers for the state lottery. Junior could have one hell of a college fund!"

"A few things," Angel said, remembering Xander's last letter. "We'll talk about them later and no, there were no lottery numbers mentioned. For now, what's it like for you, being pregnant?"

Darla grunted in a malicious way. At least Angel thought it was malicious, he had never heard grunts to have attitudes before. "What do you think? I'm a vampire who's having a baby. And the child I'm carrying was sired, no scratch that, was *fathered* by another vampire. It's some kind of mystical creature that's protected from everything the best mages in this world could come up with! A female shaman in Australia, she even started yelling at me - at least I thought it was me, since I couldn't see anything else - about evil. Those monks in Tibet didn't know what the hell to make of me, although they tried to teach me the techniques they use to control their inner werewolf. And to top it all off, I've heard rumblings about a cult springing up that wants to worship the child and who's now started looking for me!"

She suddenly glared at Angel. "Not to mention everything else that normally goes with being pregnant, like mood swings and strange cravings. I swear, I can't believe I've been obsessed for the past week over what color to paint the nursery! The Master would be laughing himself silly right now, if he wasn't dust these days."

Angel had a brief flashback to that night during in 1997, before he spoke up. "Nursery, so, uh, there will be a nursery then. And where will it be?"

Darla looked at Angel. "Well, you have this big old hotel just sitting here. Lots of empty rooms, remember?"

"Yeah. So, will it be a room for both mother and son, or just son?" Angel asked cautiously.

"Angelus." Darla answered uncertainly.

"Damn, I was hoping you wouldn't say that!"

"Shut up and listen to me, you moron! Look, I don't know what my plans are after the tyke-" the vampiress started to say.

"His name is Connor, Darla, so start using it. Even if Xander hadn't mentioned my son's name in his letters, I still know what I'd have named him. That part of it is and was inevitable." Angel interrupted, coming closer.

"Fine, after *Connor* is born. What do I do? Raise him here together with you? Pretend we're a nice, normal, *human* family? Well, newsflash, Daddy - we're not. We're anything *but* that! What do I have to offer a child, a human child, besides ugly death?"

"Love," Angel said with a look of astonishment. "Four hundred years and you never loved anyone or anything, even me - until now. You've fallen in love with our baby, haven't you? Completely. Unselfishly. No matter how hard you try not to, you love our son."

The stress and the hormones got to the pregnant woman, and the waterworks started in an instant. Without hesitation Angel crossed the short distance between them and let Darla cry on his shoulder, pulling her into a fierce protective hug. "It'll be okay. I promise you that somehow, it's all gonna be okay."

"No, it's not. And it won't be," Darla said through her tears.

"What do you mean?" Angel asked in confusion.

"If it was, your friend would have told you. As in, I would still be around during 2003! You would be happy. A happy Angel leads to an unhappy Angelus. And since Angelus isn't here, that tells me you're not completely happy. Even though you should be, since you're going to be a father," Darla explained. "Bottom line, it's not okay and it's not going to be okay. Not for me, anyway!"

Angel had forgotten just how clever Darla was. "It will be, I'll make sure of it this time around."

If only Sahjhan and Skip, who were both monitoring the conversation from within different dimensions, hadn't burst out laughing at hearing that one.

Suez Canal, Egypt. August 16, 2001

The sailors looked off the deck of the U.S. Navy aircraft carrier Theodore Roosevelt, on the shore they could see the various fishermen tending their boats. Nearby Egyptian patrol boats circled the carrier to make sure no one got too close for comfort.

"I wonder what they're thinking?" one of the sailors suddenly asked.

"Fishermen are the same everywhere. They're mad because they're stuck on shore until we pass," another of the sailors said. "Oh yeah, and that we're taking away their livelihood."

"Only for a little bit," was the response.

"Hey, that short period of time, it could be the difference between three meals a day and skipping one. A hungry stomach gives someone a strong reason to be mad. Also, they probably didn't get much warning that we were about to shut down their livelihood."

"None of us did. It's been pretty much hell for leather ever since we got the deployment order," the first sailor who'd spoken observed.

"Left behind the slower ships. The brass definitely wants us somewhere in a hurry," a third sailor observed.

"Heard we're supposed to meet up with the Carl Vinson when we get to the Indian Ocean. Looks like we're going to be seeing some action," another one said.

"Iraq?"

"What else?"

Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles, California. Later that day

Lilah Morgan looked up as her assistant entered her office. "Ma'am?"

"What is it?" Lilah snapped. She wasn't in a good mood at the moment, too many things had not been going her way recently.

The dearly departed Lindsey MacDonald was far too creative in generating problems for his former law firm, in the female attorney's opinion. He had gotten someone to cast a spell on him that had made him invisible and undetectable to the seers around here, something Lilah suspected he had picked up from what Xander Harris had done to himself months ago.

And what was more, Files and Records had recently reported that Lindsey's contract with Wolfram & Hart had somehow fallen apart, the mystically tamper-proof papers collapsing into nothingness, setting the lawyer free of any and all of his former obligations.

It was unique. It was unprecedented. And it was something you did *not* talk about in front of Linwood Murrow, not if you didn't want to be ritually sacrificed to the Underlord of Pain or whatever evil entity of the week happened to be in favor.

"There's someone here to talk to you, Ms. Morgan," the assistant said.

"I'm busy," Lilah said dismissively, and went back to the motion she was working on.

"It's about Darla, apparently she's back in Los Angeles. One of her aliases was on a recent ship's passenger list."

Lilah looked up at the sound of that voice, and instantly recognized Lindsey's replacement. The Asian attorney named Gavin Park.

Wearing an immaculately tailored suit, the young man had been a thorn in Lilah's side almost from the moment they'd met back in April. But since Gavin was now the poster boy for Special Projects, given Lilah's failed Harris scheme, he couldn't just be fed to a vampire or whatever to get rid of him. {More's the pity} the brunette woman thought to herself briefly.

The assistant vanished out the door, as Gavin sauntered in. {Nice corner office. I'm going to enjoy moving in here one of these days.}

"It's customary to wait outside until someone says 'come in'," Lilah said frostily to her co-worker.

"Oh, we don't really need to insist on such formalities anymore, do we?" Gavin smiled like a weasel. "After all, we've been working closely together for months now."

"And yet it seems like only yesterday, sometimes," Lilah fired back. "Well, was that all? I'm very busy, like I said."

Gavin smiled that detestable smile again, loving the way he was getting under the other lawyer's skin this way. "Oh, I suppose there was one other thing. My sources have recently discovered where your old friend Xander Harris might be hiding out at the moment. And I do mean 'might be', unfortunately."

Lilah jumped to her feet at once, the motion forgotten. "Where is that son of a bitch!?"

Guantanamo Bay United States Naval Base, Cuba. August 17, 2001

"Done!" Xander shouted, dropping the weapon onto the table.

"Fifty-nine seconds," Fred Burkle replied, looking impressed and consulting the stopwatch she was holding.

"That long?" Xander said disappointedly. "I used to be able to do it quicker..." And he viciously quashed the memory from another life. Being alone with Cordelia Chase in the Sunnydale Armory that night, after Angelus and the Judge had been unleashed.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't try it blindfolded?" Fred said.

"No, that was the whole point," Xander said as he took the blindfold off. "There was a time I could do it within 57 seconds. It took me too long, in my opinion, to put that thing back together." He motioned at the gun in front of him. "An M-16 isn't that hard to reassemble, y'know!"

"Says the man with all those soldier memories in his head. I wonder how many other people could do what you just did," Fred commented.

The two of them were in a garage on the Navy base. The weekend was starting, and the duo were killing time until dinner in the mess hall and a movie. Xander had been cleaning the M-16 and decided to see how long it would take to put it back together, blindfolded. Fred had offered to time him.

"It's not that hard once you get the feel of the rifle. Any of the Siberians running around here could do it." Xander thought for a second. "Well, maybe not Fletcher, but all the military ones anyway. And if not an M-16, a P-90 or Colt M4A1."

Fred nodded at that. "So what's the movie tonight?" she asked, changing the subject. The exiles, as Xander called his group, could easily stay in their bungalow and watch DVDs, but Harris actually was looking forward to the social atmosphere of the base theatre.

"Pearl Harbor," Xander answered.

Fred smiled at that, in an ironic way. "Kind of fitting, considering what's coming next month."

Despite all the need to know crap, Fred was in the know as to Xander's disclosure of the events of 9/11. Of course, Ms. Burkle also liked the idea of going to a love story movie with her not-so-secret crush, even if it was with the rest of the exiles. Speaking of which.

"I know Oz is gonna be joining us, but how about Irving and Bethany?" the physicist asked.

"Don't know. Last time I saw them, they were headed to one of the tennis courts. Say, is it just me, or do the two of them really like to play tennis a lot?" Xander asked thoughtfully.

Fred smiled at that. By now she had figured out the Wizard's feelings regarding that redhead, like Oz had, and thought it was all rather cute to be honest. "Oh, you know how kids are at that age, lots of energy to burn off."

Xander looked strangely at Fred. "I guess. Mind you, it's been a few years since I experienced that first-hand, even putting aside the fact my life experience is basically doubled."

"You've been through a lot," Fred observed.

"Yeah. Been there, bought the T-shirt," Xander replied.

The young woman paused for a second and then worked up the courage to ask the question on her mind the last month, well - one of them. "With all you've been through, Xander - why are you so determined to be on one of the teams dealing with the terrorists? You've given the warning, so why put yourself at risk like that?"

"Because I have to," was Xander's short reply.

Fred rolled her eyes. She was Texan, so she was used to male posturing of this sort. Of course, the fact that she was used to it didn't mean she liked it. "That's no answer. Come on, no one's forcing you to be on one of those planes. So what's the real reason? I mean everyone believes you, you've proven yourself over a dozen times already!"

Xander frowned for a second. "It's not that...look, Fred, even if nothing goes wrong and everything clicks together perfectly, people will still die. That happens during wartime, it just can't be helped. People are gonna be at risk of dying because of what I said. In a sense, I'm responsible."

"No you're not. Those terrorists are the ones responsible. They're the ones at fault here," Fred replied, trying to reassure her friend.

"Yeah, I mean I know the bad guys are the ones really starting things off. But our people will be there on the front lines because I sent them there, because I sent them..." Xander tried to find the word to express what he was saying.

"You're the one sending them in harm's way."

Fred and Xander looked at the entrance of the hangar where Cleburne was standing. He walked in and looked at the assembled M-16. "They're going in and risking their lives based on something you did. Of *course* that leaves you uneasy. Every military officer or leader worth his salt feels the exact same way."

"Do you?" Xander asked.

"Always," Cleburne answered in a level tone.

"You know how I feel then," Xander stated.

"You never really get used to it," Cleburne replied vaguely, already guessing where Xander was gonna go with this. "You shouldn't either. Any commander who does is doing a grave disservice to his troops."

"You're leading one of the teams," Xander noted in a tone that came close to being accusing.

"What can I say, I'm really bad at delegating some things," Cleburne replied glibly.

"I know you talk a good game about how important I am to STW, Cleburne. But come on, I'm not really that important anymore! Too many things are different. You, you run all those agents reporting in from all over the world. Me, I just have the newspaper delivered to me earlier than everyone else. Five years earlier, but you know what I mean," Xander said seriously.

Cleburne sighed. "Things go wrong in war, kid."

Xander rolled his eyes at that. "Come on! I know that, I know that better than most people on this planet. How many wars have I been involved in, some of them more than once? Murphy's Law and I know each other very well. When things go wrong, I want to be there because I'm the one who set everything in motion."

"How long?" Cleburne asked abruptly, pointing at the M-16.

"Fifty-nine seconds," Fred answered with pride in her voice.

The Marine raised an eyebrow. "That slow? I remember DIs who would make me do a hundred pushups for taking that long."

"What can I say? I've been busy the last few years," Xander said in annoyance. "And somehow, I don't think assembling an M-16 quicker than that is exactly what you're looking for in an anti-terrorist plane recruit."

"Yeah, I'll admit that one's not really too high on the mission parameters," Cleburne said with a shrug.

"So how about it? You know what's at stake, and you know what I'm capable of. Give me one good reason - apart from the future knowledge dealie - why I shouldn't be on one of the teams," Xander demanded.

"Well, Dr. Reynolds isn't too keen on the whole idea." the field director started to say.

"Hey, she thinks I belong inside of a nut house!" Xander saw the look Fred sent him and briefly explained, "The woman kept pushing me to open up, so what the hell - recently, I described what I knew about the feeding habits of a Mogfan beast to her."

Fred gasped in horror. "WHAT? But that's, that's that thing eats women alive, starting with their...! What are you trying to do, drive Dr. Reynolds to the point of having nightmares?"

"Wouldn't be the first time. Sorry Fred, but I guess I just have this *thing* with regard to shrinks," Xander looked slightly apologetic. He turned back to Cleburne. "So, how about it?"

"You're simply not going to let this go, are you?" the Marine asked dejectedly.

"No, I'm not," Xander answered firmly.

"All right, fine," Cleburne said with an air of resignation. "Behave with Dr. Reynolds from now on, and you're on my team. Tomorrow afternoon at one o'clock, I'll send a car to the bungalow where you're staying to pick you up. And kid? Don't make me regret this!"

Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. August 19, 2001

"Burgundy. I like burgundy," Darla declared.

"Why?" Gwen Raiden asked. "I figured you would be more into something with animals or cartoon characters."

"I find burgundy wallpaper calming, the color reminds me of blood," Darla answered.

"You know - every once in a while, the whole mother-to-be thing slips. And I remember you were a Master vampire spreading death and destruction for centuries," Gwen said, shaking her head.

Gwen and Darla looked around the hotel room that the Fang Gang was fixing up as a nursery. "That's exactly what I was. And just in case I ever lose my soul, you shouldn't forget it," the vampiress replied.

"I thought though that it was permanently bound?" the female thief didn't look happy at that thought.

"Nothing in this world is ever 100%. You of all people should know that," Darla riposted.

"So, if you do go all happy after junior is born? That can't mean anything good," Gwen mused.

"True." Darla looked at Raiden intently. "Look, you've got quite a bit going for you that would faze even a Master vampire. If I go evil and it looks like I'm going to kill Connor, you're to dust me on sight."

"What?" Gwen asked, her surprise evident.

"You heard me. Angel would hesitate a moment too long, and the others might not be able to do it, but you well, you're not that attached to me and you've got the moves and power to pull it off."

Gwen almost gulped at Darla's statement. "Not very often you have a pregnant woman ask you to kill her in the future, if she has a really bad day."

"Promise me," Darla demanded.

Gwen blinked once. "Okay, I promise. I'll kill you in order to protect your baby from you, if it comes to that."

"Good," Darla smiled and turned back to the wall. "You know, you might be right about the cartoon characters. I've always liked Tom and Jerry. For some reason they remind me of Botticelli's frescos, you know - the ones with the lepers."

Gwen shook her head. "These people are just as messed up as the ones who sent me here," she mumbled to herself. Of course, since Darla had vampire hearing.

"Yes, I've been wanting to hear more about your previous compatriots. I owe one of them a word of thanks for the good news about Connor." Darla quieted down as Wesley approached the two of them.

"Darla," he said. "I was thinking that perhaps we ought to start discussing prenatal care for the child?"

The female vampire nodded, as Wesley glanced towards Angel's private office. He had figured something out that didn't sit well with him, and was trying to find the right time to broach it with his boss. {No, not yet, but soon, after all, I could possibly be wrong, although I very much doubt it.}

Outside the Hyperion Hotel. The same time

The vampire looked up at the hotel. "She's here, and the miracle child is within her." He nodded to the other vampires, as they gathered around him and started forming a mob.

Unexpectedly though, instead of attacking the hotel all the minions got down on their knees as the leader intoned, "For His time has come. Praise be. Praise be. Praise be."

Munich, Germany. August 20, 2001

Kommissar Otto Seitz was very irritated, well actually he was well past that and getting onto quite angry. "Verdammung, what do you mean they are not available?" the policeman snapped at the contrite USAF officer.

"The officers you've requested are unavailable right now, sir. They have another mission ongoing," the American explained.

"All of them? A couple of them being unavailable is to be expected, but surely at least one of them could show up, nicht wahr?" Seitz asked in an irritated tone. He hadn't been this annoyed ever since he'd been transferred from Wiesbaden after that business with that Rangers lieutenant last year, what had his name been? {Hall? Hale? }

"They send their regrets. However, I'm confident your people can take care of that vampire gang on their own," was the response.

Otto harrumphed. "It seems we will have to." Not knowing similar conversations had been happening quite a bit in recent days throughout the world, and that various parties were beginning to compare notes.

Dartmoor Prison, Devon, England. The same time

The man named Quentin Travers meditated alone within his cell.

Ever since his...well, fall from grace, things had not gone very well for him. After Travers had been arrested during that meeting in the Watchers HQ months ago, and in his mind become the subject of permanent ridicule and embarrassment, he'd suffered one humiliation after another.

Stripped of rank, stripped of freedom, stripped of dignity...you name it, he'd had it happen to him. Well, all right, Quentin hadn't been forced to suffer being processed through the courts like any other common criminal; the Home Secretary had stepped in, and quashed the extradition to the States and the nightmare of a colonial jail.

Instead, after all the diplomatic jockeying was over he'd been sent here. And at his age, Quentin knew that it was anticipated he'd be a resident of Dartmoor till the day he died.

It had been a trifle difficult for him at first, the other prisoners hadn't liked his attitude or even his upperclass accent. But Travers had been a Watcher for over 40 years, and whatever else you could say about him he knew how to handle that sort of people. His body might have been imprisoned, but his mind - possibly his greatest remaining weapon - still remained free.

Quentin's training and the knowledge from decades of service to the Council still remained his. So he'd calmed down, and taken stock of his new situation. Then however reluctantly he'd forced himself to blend in and when one of the inmates had taken a fancy to him, Travers had spilled human blood with his own two hands for the first time in decades. Oddly enough, he'd rather liked it, and so made an example out of the poor unfortunate for the rest of the prison population to learn from.

That was why everyone pretty much left 'the professor' alone nowadays, unless it was for business reasons. Survival was a priority and Travers had learned how to trade his knowledge for possessions and status, establishing a niche here for himself.

A niche he *hated* with every fiber of his being.

Because Travers wasn't the type to ever forgive or forget, and he carried the faces of all his enemies with him in his mind at all times. He was waiting for the day when he would escape from this damned jailhouse, and get his revenge. On all of them, especially that. Cursed. Child.

No matter how long it took.

Los Angeles, California. August 21, 2001

"Okay, now I never imagined that once I hooked up with you guys, I'd ever be stealing stuff from a hospital," Gunn said philosophically.

"Suck it up and deal. Besides, what's wrong with a little larceny in the line of duty?" Gwen smirked briefly at him.

"Well, we're not actually stealing anything. We're just using hospital equipment without permission," Wesley said as he closed the door to the surgical suite. Cordy and Gwen helped Darla onto an examining table in the middle of the room, as Gunn and Angel pushed the ultrasound machine towards it.

"Again, why am I here?" Darla said in an irritated tone of voice.

"Well, it's easier to bring you to the equipment instead of dragging it all to the Hyperion. Less hassle all around, plus we *do* have to think about Connor's college fund," Angel replied.

"Still, you wound up dragging the pregnant woman out of her bed in the middle of the night," Darla said petulantly. "When we get back to the hotel, I want some vanilla ice cream covered in otter's blood."

"Man, have I mentioned lately just how completely messed up this whole thing is?" Gunn said in disbelief.

"Again, suck it up and deal. You want boring nine-to-five, get a job at the post office," Gwen smirked again, seeming to get a kick out of teasing the black man.

Gunn opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, just looking sad. "Damn. Can't argue with that."

Wes started putting jelly onto Darla's belly as she lifted her maternity dress up, and then turned on the ultrasound machine. "Right then. Let's take a look, shall we?" The former member of the Council started staring at the monitor as he moved the probe around. "Well, I haven't studied one of these for quite a while."

Angel frowned, looking at the blurred image. "Isn't that a head?"

Wesley nodded, squinting. "I think it is. Or is that the head?"

Gwen shrugged. "Maybe you're both right?" After everyone turned to look at her, the seer/thief added quickly, "Hey, it's not like I'm suggesting the kid's got two heads just 'cause his parents are vampires! I was only thinking, maybe it's twins."

Angel shook his head as Wes moved the sensor around. Cordy suddenly squealed, "Oh, I see it now! Hey, your Aunt Cordelia's here! Hi!"

Wes then said with a slight smile, "Yes, I'd say there's no doubt about it. It's a boy." As an aside to Darla he said, "You're definitely carrying a human son."

Darla shrugged. "Right. Not like I didn't know that before!"

Gwen suddenly tensed up, "Ah, anyone else noticed how we're now surrounded by vampires?"

Angel finally looked away from the monitor and noticed the pack of undead lining the teaching gallery above them and the back wall of the room. "What? Oh. Yeah. We are surrounded by vampires."

Cordy was a practical girl at heart, it was the product of a Sunnydale education. "Ahem - so, who has a plan?"

Gunn said simply, "Don't let 'em kill us sounds like a good first step to me."

Gwen took off her gloves as the lead vampire intoned, "The miracle child."

"What about him?" Angel demanded, in full combat mode by now.

But then to his and everyone else's astonishment, all the vamps got on their knees again like the previous night outside the hotel. "His time has come. Praise be. Praise be. Praise be," they all chanted.

"Okay, this is different," Cordelia commented in amazement. "What the hell is going on?"

"We are here to protect the miracle child," the Master vampire said as he got up and looked at Darla.

Angel wasn't sure if he believed that. "Really. Protect? Ah, okay, that's good. We're all here for the same thing then."

"As it has been prophesised by our great potentate Ul-thar, we vow our lives to protect this - special child," one of the other vampires said with a great deal of pride evident.

Angel couldn't help it, he said to Darla: "You hear that? Our kid. Special!" His voice was full of something approaching parental pride, as Darla tried not to roll her eyes.

The lead vampire suddenly threw a wet blanket on proceedings though when he added, "Now let us kill all the humans, so we may use their blood to nourish the mother - and her miracle child."

"Nourish me and Connor?" For a moment, Darla seemed intrigued by the prospect of human blood before rejecting it.

"Yes. Then we will slice you open, wear your entrails as a belt and consume your eyeballs before we worship the miracle child. The only-begotten son of two vampires, who will lead us to the Savage Garden!"

Darla instantly looked disgusted, and Gwen for one had heard enough. "Angel?"

The male vamp nodded. "I think you and I can hold them off for as long as it's necessary. The rest of you, take Darla back to the car!"

"Oh, come on! I'd rather stay and fight. Show these youngsters a thing or two about real carnage," Darla protested as she swung her legs off the exam table.

Angel almost groaned. "That's real thoughtful of you Darla, but, you know, I think it's probably best you should get going now."

"KILL THEM!" the head honcho shouted to his minions before Gwen blasted him with lightning and the surgical suite began to become an urban battlefield.

The vampires hesitated for a second as they saw their former leader smolder. "Damn," one of them muttered. "Come on!" he shouted when he regained his senses "For the miracle child!" All the vampires instantly surged forward.

Behind Angel and Gwen, Darla and others made their way to the exit. Gunn and Wesley fending off the few vampires who were able to get close to the group.

The soulless demon who was now leading the cult members reached Angel. He swung at the ensouled vampire, only to be surprised when Angel reached out and grabbed him.

"Listen carefully. You are gonna leave my son alone," Angel growled as he lifted the vampire off the ground. "And his mother too."

"Nice to know he cares," Darla muttered as she was pushed out the door.

"Move it, Mom vampire!" Cordy said acerbically as she yanked the undead woman along.

Next to the two women, a vampire turned to dust as Gunn staked him. "Get her to the car!" he shouted as he led the way.

Wesley looked back into the surgical suite. He blinked for a second at what he saw.

Gwen was blasting away at the vampires, any one that got close to the thief was rewarded with a touch from her ungloved hand with the resulting electrical display. There was now quite a bit of dust surrounding her.

Angel was in the process of staking a female vampire. Around him was a second pile of dust. He was in full game face, but it looked even more demonic than normal. As the female who had been fighting him turned to ashes, Angel reached and grabbed the closest vampire. He jerked him and pushed him against three other vampires who were rushing him.

"Angel, Gwen. Come on!" Wesley shouted. "Now!"

The two members of the Fang Gang quickly followed Wesley out of the surgical suite. Angel, by now back in human face, reached over and pulled the fire alarm. "More confusion to help our escape."

They hurried down the corridors of the hospital as confused and frightened people were filling up the corridors. Several security personnel were running towards the surgical suite. Wesley led his companions down a flight of stairs. "Come on, they're in the car waiting for us!" Wesley said as they entered the garage.

He stopped at the sight of the '68 Plymouth and Gunn's truck that Angel's Avengers had used to come to the hospital, with Cordelia up against the side of the Angel-mobile. "Cordy! What happened?" Angel rushed to the car.

"Those assholes shocked me!" she grunted. "And hey, this is an original Donna Karan outfit!"

"Who?" Wesley asked, ignoring the Cordelia-esque fashion rant.

"SWAT team from the evil lawyers. They jumped us as soon as we got here," Cordy explained.

"Where's Gunn?" Gwen asked.

"Right here. Damn, getting tasered is no fun," Gunn said as he opened the door of his truck and almost fell out.

"Darla?" Angel shouted impatiently.

"They went thataway," Gunn said, waving his arm towards the garage exit.

"Come on!" Angel said urgently as he got in the driver's seat of his car, the others quickly piling in.

The squeal of tires was heard as Angel hit the accelerator. The others held on as the male vampire drove up the ramp, "They'll probably take her straight to Wolfram & Hart's main offices. We can probably beat-"

The Plymouth stopped suddenly, pitching the Fang Gang forward - as they'd all forgotten to buckle up. "Oh, that's it. I'm definitely using the seat belt next time," Wesley grumbled.

"Angel. What's wrong?" Cordelia asked as she straightened up.

"Look," Angel said as he exited the car. The others hurriedly exited it as well. Gunn got out of his truck that had stopped behind Angel's car.

In front of them on the ramp was a black van, just sitting there with its engine still running. Standing next to it was the six months pregnant Darla, with splashes of red on the maternity dress that hadn't been there earlier.

"What kept you, lover?" she said sarcastically to Angel. "Makes me worried about you showing up to pick up Connor after soccer practice. We can't have our son just waiting around for Daddy to show up, after all!"

Angel came up to Darla. "What happened?" he asked.

"What do you *think* happened? They said they were going to hurt Connor, dissect him as soon as they cut me open," Darla said firmly. "And that one idiot with the Balkans accent, he really got on my nerves!" Suddenly though she cheered up. "Got rid of those cultists?" she asked.

Angel nodded as he looked in the van.

"Good," Darla said dismissively. "Now let's go, I'm still hungry. I want that ice cream!"

The others just stared as she started walking back to the Fang Gang's vehicle. "Angel," Wesley said urgently after looking in the van. "That's not paint."

"I know," Angel said simply.

"But, but what she just did." Wesley started to say before Angel interrupted him.

"They were going to hurt Connor," the undead father said with finality. "And just so all of you know, from now on? That's all I need to hear. Because things are probably going to get a lot more ugly from this point on, if Wolfram & Hart's decided to start playing hardball!"

The ex-Watcher knew that conversation he had been putting off with his boss couldn't wait much longer now, as they all headed for the car and Gunn's truck.

An isolated castle, somewhere in the Swiss Alps. August 22, 2001

"Your Highness."

Elizabeth Bathory, once also known as die Blutgrafin, smiled at being called that. It was good to hear, after all these centuries. "Baron Roja. It is a pleasure to once again meet with someone of noble blood from the old country," the female vampire said as she held out her hand for the one-time baron to take it.

The regal and handsome vampire took her hand, kissed it and smiled. "You flatter me, your Highness. I am after all merely a humble servant of the crown." The two were speaking in archaic Hungarian, ensuring that any eavesdropper would have to know that language to follow the conversation.

"It has been centuries since I wore the crown as Hungarian royalty," she replied.

"All who came after you are mere pretenders," was the suave comment from Ivan Roja.

Bathory was now feeling half-annoyed and half-flattered. She eventually went with flattered, "Indeed, and they have paid the price. The empire is no more, but I continue on. However, I did not summon you here to comment on their mistakes. I have need of certain services. Sit." She beckoned to the chair next to the couch she was reclining on. Ivan did as she commanded.

"No doubt you are familiar with the happenings recently. The humans are forgetting their place in the scheme of things," Bathory started. "We've had problems in the past of course, the Slayer and the Watchers have been and always will be bothersome. However, things are now getting completely intolerable."

Roja nodded. "Indeed, your Highness. Just yesterday a promising group I was once mentor to was cut down in Munich. I am shocked at what is happening lately."

"I imagine so, your opinions on those who hunt us are well known." Bathory took a drink from the chalice in front of her. "This new threat, you know, we're not dealing at all well with it. Those idiot lawyers in America, they've been chastised quite badly by them...it. The Immortal blunders around the party scene in Rome, and doesn't really know what to do. Then again of course, he's had some other problems lately besides the one I'm referring to."

"Women problems?" Roja asked.

"Of course. Arrangements had to be made to take care of a mistake, apparently. One of his whores heard more than it should have, but a little trip to Liberia cured that." Bathory pseudo-sighed. "At times I swear, never mind. You have experience in dealing with humans who forget their place in this world. And we have need of that experience."

Roja nodded. "Of course, your Highness. As I said earlier, I am your most humble and obedient servant."

Bathory looked at Ivan carefully. "Then tell me. What have you heard of this one they call the Timetripper?"

The White House, Washington D.C. August 23, 2001

"Mr. President."

George W Bush looked up at the assistant who had spoken to him as the sunlight filtered in through the windows of the Oval Office. "Yes, Andy?"

"Attorney General John Ashcroft is here. He says he's ready to show his proposal for the anti-terror legislation you requested," the assistant explained.

"Good, I was hoping to get a look at it before too long. Now, have the Siberians sent anything else to go with the Attorney General's visit today?"

Andrew Card nodded. "They have. Colonel Cleburne sent you a packet concerning Mr. Harris." He handed a large brown envelope to the President.

Bush took the packet and opened it. He examined the first piece of paper for a few moments. "Well, I suppose it's appropriate. I wonder if Mr. Harris realizes what all he has started." Bush put the paper down on the desk and signed it. "Go ahead and have Ashcroft come in at once."

STW medical facility, Dallas, Texas. August 25, 2001

"Morning, Holly."

Holly looked up from her book that she was reading in her wheelchair. "Cleburne. I thought you were in Gitmo?"

The Marine colonel sat down next to the former head of field ops for Siberian Trip Wire. And he was careful to keep to her right. "I was, flew back to the mainland a while ago. I've been running some errands."

"Before the big show," Holly commented. "Oh, don't look so surprised. You know I keep up with the trade, now more than ever - ever since Hollins did his little disappearing trick. And when you and your best operatives suddenly go to Gitmo and start training like crazy, I know something's up."

Cleburne sighed. Keeping secrets from his former patron was always problematic at best. "All right, yeah, a big show's about to be put on. We're the second act, and the other guys are not going to have as a good an opener as they thought."

Holly nodded. "You're about to do a modern-day version of Manstein's backhand?"

Cleburne chuckled. "You know, at times I forget that you're a military history buff! But yeah, that would be a good description. Anyway, I thought I'd stop by to let you know so you can keep your eye out with your old contacts. And I took your advice on the kid."

"Good, get him involved as one of the team. It'll be easier all around. I'm assuming the second act leads to a great third act?"

Cleburne smiled. "It's what we've been waiting years for. The gloves are finally coming off. Scheuer's ecstatic."

"Now that I would like to see! Tell me more," Holly asked politely.

So Cleburne proceeded to do just that. And when he left the clinic several hours later, Holly was smiling the smile of someone who's really looking forward to what's about to happen.

Lafayette Park, Washington D.C. August 27, 2001

Esther Marcum leaned back on the park bench as the midday sun shone down on her. She reached down into the tupperware container next to her and drew out a sandwich. She started munching on it as she waited.

She didn't have to wait long until a middle-aged man dressed in an expensive suit walked up to the bench. "Is this seat taken?" he asked with an accent.

Esther smiled. "Not at all, please sit down."

The man did so. "Thank you. It is a glorious day, isn't it?"

Esther nodded. "It is. I'm enjoying the chance to get out of the office." She reached down into the tupperware container and brought out a second sandwich. "Here, Giscard, I made one for you as well."

"Tuna?" he asked in distaste. {Americans} "Thank you, but no. I ate before I came."

Esther shrugged her shoulders. "No problem, more for me. I'll save it for later." She put the sandwich back in the container. "So, you wanted to talk?"

Giscard sighed. "Directness, it seems to be a trademark of the Siberians."

Esther nodded. "Yes, it keeps my lunch hour to a lunch hour. What concerns our European friends these days?"

"All of your top-level operatives are currently unavailable for some reason. All of them at the same time? You Americans are up to something. All your ships, planes and troops being moved around the world like a little boy's toys. Someone is about to get a surprise, don't you suppose you should tell your friends what is going on?"

Esther didn't answer immediately, she watched some tourists stop in front of the White House and start taking pictures. "It's not uncommon for troops and ships to be moved around, after all we are a global power," she observed.

Giscard raised an eyebrow at that. "Please, madam, I know better. This deployment is much more than that. It's subtle and if you're not looking you don't see it. But, it's there."

"Yes it is," Esther agreed.

"What's it all about?" Giscard asked point-blank.

"Not quite yet," Esther shook her head. "We don't want to spoil the big surprise. When the time is right."

The Frenchman frowned. "And when would that be, exactly?"

"Soon," Esther replied. "By the way, what have you heard coming out of West Africa?"

Giscard was somewhat surprised by the change of subject. "There have been rumblings. They seem to center around Charles Taylor and Liberia."

Esther sighed. "Our problem, that. We'll need to fix it before too long. Maybe once all this is sorted out."

"Again, when?" Giscard pressed the point

Esther thought for a few seconds. "Meet me back here in fourteen days. The time will be right then."

Nightclub, Los Angeles, California. A few hours later

Lilah sipped on her drink, as she looked at the mirror behind the main bar of the establishment. {If only I could afford to get drunk, or laid.}

"You won't see me there."

Lilah jumped at the sound of Angel's voice, even if there was still nothing in the mirror to indicate his presence. "You like doing that, do you?" the female lawyer asked as she turned around. Standing there a few paces behind her was Angel.

He didn't reply at first. The male vampire stepped forward, almost into Lilah's face. He wasn't in game face, but the face he had was not pleasant. "Whoa there cowboy, personal space," Lilah said quickly. "Remember that little 21st century custom?"

"You were going to treat my son like a lab rat. Or a guinea pig, or whatever," Angel growled.

Lilah almost blanched. "I guess you're all worked up about the retrieval team at the hospital a couple of days ago, not to mention the one at the Hyperion yesterday. But come on, you can't blame us for being curious. After all, a pregnant vampire? Don't see one of those every day, do you?"

Angel didn't answer her directly. "You know, I could keep you alive for weeks or months if I wanted to. Blood transfusions would allow me to make your life hell for as long as I wanted. Death would not come quickly for you, Lilah."

Lilah exercised all her self-control to not openly react to Angel's words. "Please, you're going to threaten me? Come up with something more creative and more visual next time!"

Angel morphed into game face. Lilah visibly reacted to that, scooting her barstool away from the vampire. Angel immediately moved towards the attorney, the exact distance she had moved the barstool. "I can be visual, quite visual. You don't believe me, ask your boss Linwood whether or not that new scar on his face was from shaving this morning. Lilah, I've got over 200 years of inspiration to work with and I'm sure you know some of my work. If not, then Gavin and Linwood can fill you in on the little conversation we had earlier..."

Angel's face returned back to a human visage. "This is your one and only warning, my family is off limits to you people. Any of you go near Darla or Connor or any of my crew again, Angelus comes to pay you a visit. Everyone at your firm is a target then, including the Senior Partners themselves. And for old time's sake? You'll be the first to die."

With that Angel stepped back, spun around and walked out of the bar.

Lilah watched him go. "Well, at least he didn't drive a tank through my office," she muttered.

Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. August 29, 2001

Wesley forced himself to march towards Angel's private office, and knock on the door. He knew he had to stop putting this off; the latest attack by Wolfram & Hart on the Fang Gang was definitely the last straw, so to speak.

Even though Wes didn't know it, the LA branch of Evil, Inc. had been in a complete uproar ever since they'd discovered Darla was pregnant. Most of the psychics had been killed for incompetence, because such a thing was *inconceivable*. There wasn't even a hint of such a thing ever coming about, which was especially intolerable for an organization that had records on everything that had ever happened.

Linwood had definitely started acting like someone a few cards short of a full deck, to be honest. And for a while there, Lilah and Gavin had suspected that they were gonna get crucified for being unable to procure the mother and her offspring for him at the hospital. Still, they'd been smart enough to lay all the blame on the dead Commander Burke, who along with Dr. Fetanovich Darla had mercilessly slaughtered in the van that night - and saved their own asses.

As said, the evil trio had then organized another snatch and grab attempt with a full commando raid on the Hyperion. That hadn't gone too well either, with the Fang Gang and Gunn's Lost Boys going to town on the commandos. Unknown to Angel and his crew though, the street gang unit hadn't been all that happy about helping vampires.

However, a favor had been called in when Gwen had placed a phone call to STW. The secret organization had built up a lot of favors over the last year or so, and the Lost Boys knew better than to bite the hand which fed them; the material assistance they had gotten ever since Xander had become part of the organization was far too valuable to lose.

In any case Wes was sure it wasn't just his imagination that he could still smell all that death and destruction, as he knocked on the door. "Angel?"

"Come in, Wes."

The Englishman quickly went inside, shutting the door behind him. "We need to talk."

Angel frowned at his desk. "About what?"

Wesley then said somewhat hesitantly, "I know. I've figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

The ex-Watcher said more firmly, "Over a year ago, long before both Darla and Gwen came into our lives, you asked me to investigate the coming of a miracle child born to two vampires, and how we could transfer the visions from Cordelia to someone else. And with hindsight, it's fairly obvious that both these things weren't just random whims - you *knew*. You knew about Darla's pregnancy before she had even been brought back from the dead. Just as you knew that Cordelia would somehow pass on her gift to her successor."

"Wesley." Angel had a very uncomfortable look on his face.

But the Englishman went on, "Initially, you see, I thought it was a mage or a seer of some sort. But after Darla came back I remembered how you'd mentioned back then that your information source was a hunted man, and people were willing to kill and torture in order to find him. That led me to the conclusion that he was someone with actual, advanced knowledge of the future. And coupled with how reluctant you were to tell us his real identity, it made me wonder whether your unknown informant was someone who had also somehow *experienced* the future."

Wesley paused. "And so finally, I remembered the rumors. This mythical figure who's known as the Timetripper in some circles. A time-traveler who supposedly has connections to the highest levels of government. There's even a website about him. That's when I realized, Xander Harris is still alive, isn't he?"

The deceptively soft words were almost like being dunked in holy water for Angel. "Wes. Come on! I mean, just because they never found his body back then."

"Angel, please. Who else could it be? Besides, I haven't forgotten how on the first day that Gwen arrived, she said something then for you to instantly accept her presence here. Something about May, 1997. Now it's common knowledge that you were in Sunnydale then. And I've heard how you barely even knew Cordelia existed at that time, so that leaves only Mr. Giles, Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg and the young man in question. Putting all the circumstantial evidence together...what else am I supposed to conclude?"

The former Angelus was silently cursing Wesley's brilliant intellect, even as he was also grudgingly admitting that it was probably only a matter of time till his friend had figured out the truth anyway. He then looked up at Pryce, "Have you mentioned any of this to anyone else?"

Wesley shook his head. "No one. I haven't even rung my father to verify some of the details."

"Then please, do me a favor. Don't do that till I say it's all right, okay?" Angel asked, not knowing the senior Wyndham-Pryce was already very aware of Xander's survival.

Wesley shrugged, "As you wish. So then, are you going to tell me that I'm wrong in my suppositions?"

Angel hesitated. "Is Cordelia here at the hotel right now?"

"No, I believe she and her boyfriend are off somewhere else doing whatever it is they do when they're alone," the British man confessed. "Why?"

Angel didn't answer him. Instead, he summoned the rest of the gang into the office; Darla, Gunn and Gwen. "Okay, listen up. Everyone in this room shares a secret, and I guess it's time we finally put an end to all the cloak and dagger stuff." He caught Wesley's eye, "The fact is, we all know that Xander Harris is still alive, even though the rest of the world thinks he died back in 1999."

The three new arrivals looked absolutely stunned at the huge secret being so casually tossed out into the open like this, but Wesley just had a big look of satisfaction on his face. {I knew it! I KNEW IT! } Then he looked around with a frown, "Er, Angel? Cordelia isn't here."

Angel hastily explained, "Yeah, she doesn't know, and what with their history, look, for heaven's sake, just, please, don't any of you say anything about Xander in front of Cordy! She's still far too sensitive about that subject. And if that guy doesn't want her to know the truth, then that's his choice and we have to respect that."

Most of the others nodded silently. Wesley had a curious look on his face, but then looked like he'd had an epiphany. "You're afraid of what she'll do to you, if she learns the truth?"

"That and the fact she might feel the need to tell Buffy and the others the big secret. And that would be bad," Angel explained.

"Surely they have a right to know, though?" Wesley asked.

"Trust me, English," Gwen said. "There's a reason why all this is still a secret. The people who are keeping the secret, keeping Harris safe, you don't want them getting angry with you. They can find you and make their anger known. And the more people who know, the angrier they get. We need their help, so don't rock the boat."

Wesley thought for a second. He turned to Angel. "You're more afraid of Cordelia, aren't you? You're worried how she'll react and what she'll do."

Angel shrugged. "Well, that and how much abuse she'll manage to inflict on my credit card in retaliation."

Miami International Airport, Florida. September 7, 2001

The customs officer handed the passport back to the young man. "Purpose of the visit?" he asked.

"Student, I'm studying at Florida State University," the man who had been in Afghanistan less than two days before replied.

The customs officer nodded. "Okay. Enjoy your stay," he said after looking at the watch list. Unfortunately, this particular man's name wasn't on that list; although in four days, a lot of people were going to wish that it had been.

Athens, Georgia. September 8, 2001

The crowd in the packed football stadium roared, as the football players celebrated a touchdown in the endzone. And the sound down on the sideline was deafening. Down there, Cleburne was wincing. Oz was stoic as always. Xander and Gunny were just enjoying the atmosphere.

Gunny noticed the amused look on Xander's face. "Quite an experience, isn't it?" he asked as players ran on and off the field.

"Yeah. I mean I've been to football games before, but nothing like this," Xander commented.

The quartet was in Athens on this fine autumn day, attending the football game between the University of Georgia and University of South Carolina. Cleburne's brother had come through with passes to the sidelines, and the foursome was enjoying the game.

At first, Xander had been surprised that Cleburne was taking them to a football game so close to September 11th. But as the Marine had said, "Hey kid, everything's done that needs to be done. We got our people lined up, we know what flights the bad guys are gonna be on and we're tracking their movements every second. You can't be wound up all the time."

So here it was, a beautiful weekend afternoon in the fall and Xander found himself well below the Mason-Dixon line watching college football, trying to forget what was coming in three days.

"In the South during college football season, every Saturday is like a religious holiday. They take it seriously down here," Gunny explained.

"Back in the day, I went to a few high school football games," Xander said, having a momentary flashback to Cordelia in her cheerleader outfit during her princess days. "And one or two college games as well, but they never came close to this. I mean, having fighter jets do a fly-over before a game, that's something I thought only happened at the Super Bowl."

Gunny chuckled at that. "I just hope South Carolina wins, I don't want the colonel in a foul mood before the big day."

Nearby, Cleburne was shouting at the referee. "Come on! That was holding, I could see the tags ripped from the jersey!" Oz just stared at him, as if out of curiosity over a weird species of animal.

Gunny smiled at Cleburne's shouting. "But don't worry, this is as bad as it gets from him on the football front. Well, until the Army-Navy game. Of course, that game's *important*."

"Important?" Xander asked. "And this isn't?"

"Well, it is to Cleburne and to people in South Carolina and Georgia. But Army-Navy? Whole lot more people get a whole lot more worked up about that."

Xander was silent for a second, as the two teams on the field carried out a play. "Still, it feels kinda odd watching a football game today of all Saturdays. Feels like I should be doing some more drills and practicing for Tuesday."

"Well, that's the thing. You get too hyped too early, your game day performance isn't the best it can be. From what I've seen, you and the rest of the colonel's team know what to do. And you can't stay wound up too long without it affecting how you perform," Gunny remarked, echoing his superior officer. "Besides, there are more pleasant things to be done today than think about what's coming in 72 hours."

"I wouldn't call a college football game just a pleasant way to pass the time," Xander replied.

Gunny looked at Xander. "Lieutenant, you need to look at more than just the game on the field. You telling me you haven't noticed?"

Ignoring for once Gunny's use of his fake military rank, Xander turned and looked at the non-com. There was a confused look on his face as he said, "What?"

"The dance team," Gunny nodded at the line of women not far down the field from them. "Come on. Have you really not noticed?"

"Well, they're dancers Gunny. Of course I've looked at them a few times," Xander replied, still not getting it.

Gunny rolled his eyes. "The blonde at the end, *Howard*. She's been giving you the eye."

Xander turned and looked at the dancer Gunny was referring to. She was a short blonde athletic girl, who was indeed sneaking glances in Xander's direction every so often.

{Damn. Why does she look vaguely familiar? } Xander focused and then said, "Her boyfriend must be on the team or something, and she's looking at him. We're probably just in the way."

Gunny shook his head. "No, thought of that. But we've moved several times and the team hasn't really moved from the sideline. It's us she's looking at. I know for damn sure it's not the colonel or me. It might have been Oz, but when he went off to get something to drink a few minutes ago she kept right on glancing at us. Face it. You're the star attraction for her."

Xander didn't know what to say as Gunny continued, "You've got an attractive young woman, a dancer to boot, making googly eyes at you. Someone your age should be jumping for joy at the thought. So go talk to her."

"Well, need I remind ya that someone my age isn't exactly someone my age? And I still think you're imagining things. But even if you're not, we're only here for the day. So, no reason to go talk to her when I already know nothing's gonna come out of it."

Xander had noticed by now that the dancer was pretty good-looking. {But like I said, I don't need any distractions right now. Not when I'm gonna be on a plane heading for New York soon.} He turned his attention back to the game.

"Well, I don't think she's gonna accept that," Gunny said after a few minutes.

"Huh? What?" Xander said as he turned around.

"Hello."

"Uh, hi," Xander stammered to the blonde dancer who was now standing in front of him with a sly smile on her face.

"Well, now, here's the thing. You weren't coming over my way, so I thought I'd come your way," she said flirtingly with a charming accent. "I'm Monica. Monica Carter." The young woman held out her hand.

"Alex Howard," Harris said, taking her hand and shaking it. Xander noticed that she held on to his hand for a few seconds longer than would be strictly polite. That was before he checked out her cleavage, before the guy quickly forced himself to look at her face.

"Alex," Monica said with a smile. "I like it. Short for Alexander, right? Did you know Alexander means protector or defender of mankind?"

Xander found himself nodding, experiencing another brief flashback to when Enoch had called him that - when he was technically dead, months ago. "I heard that somewhere. Personally though, I think they got that part wrong when they named me that."

Monica continued smiling. "Oh, I'm sure you live up to the name," she said, not knowing how close to the mark she was. "I've not seen you around here before."

"Came for this game, my friend is from South Carolina and a big fan," Harris replied, nodding at Cleburne. Who was clearly frustrated at a call from the referee further down the field.

"A Gamecock. You know you're going to go home disappointed, don't you?" Monica said with a twinkle in her eye.

Xander smiled and shook his head. "Nope, not me, I just came along for the ride. And I'm not from South Carolina."

At that moment, Monica was called back to the dance line. After the routine was over she came back to Xander. "So you're not a Gamecock. Where are you from, Alex?"

"California," Xander replied.

Her smile got bigger. "California! I've always wanted to visit there. Whereabouts in California?"

Xander caught himself before he made a flippant remark about Sunnydale being hell on earth. No reason to scare the poor girl, besides she was kind of fun to flirt with. "Small town north of Los Angeles," he said in a nonspecific way.

"Ah, sunny California. So what brings you to Athens, other than the game?" Monica pressed on, thankfully not asking for further details as to where Xander was from.

"Just the game, actually, like I said my friend over there's a big fan and he thought it would be fun to bring us here today," Xander explained. "Of course, that was before I discovered the charming company present." He smiled at Monica.

The blonde woman smiled back with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "You know what they say about Southern belles and our hospitality." She was then again called back to the dance line.

This time it was Xander who walked over to her, and spoke with the woman after the dance was done. "No, what do they say about Southern belle hospitality?" he asked with a grin.

Monica smiled back. "Well, now, it would only be proper for me to show an out-of-towner some good old Southern hospitality. Some of my friends and I like to hang out after the game at this new place we recently heard about, would you like to join us there?"

A bar somewhere in Athens, Georgia. Later that evening

Xander Harris had been to quite a few bars in his life. For example, the Fish Tank in Sunnydale. The bar in Czechoslovakia where he'd met Oz again. That place in Florida with Rachael, after Ethan Rayne had finally gotten what was coming to him. Cleburne's favorite watering hole in Japan and the Fautis Bar, in Philadelphia among others.

But somehow, for some reason, this particular bar really set his teeth on edge.

It was nothing he could get a firm grip on. But by this point Xander's sixth sense about such things - from *years* of living as a slave and as the Soldier Guy - it was developed to the point where he knew that for whatever reason, this place was ill-omened.

Xander and Oz had gone to the bar where Monica and her friends were after the game. Xander's personal guards had trailed them, of course; even so close to 9/11, Cleburne wasn't about to relax security that much. But one thing had led to another and before too long, Monica and Xander had split off from the rest of the group.

"Alex, what do you want me to get you from the bar?" Monica asked, reaching for her purse. She had decided by now that she really liked the guy she'd met at the game today.

"Whatever you're having," Xander replied stiffly, the sense of wrongness around here still assaulting him from all sides.

The blonde woman frowned a little, and went up to the bartender. "House special, two of them." she said meaningfully.

The barman nodded, he knew what that meant. He quickly mixed two beers together with a special additive; one that had once been used by a UC Sunnydale campus bar owner, to turn his patrons into cavemen.

Here and now, of course, nothing so extreme was either intended or desired. This version of that mystical drug merely released conscious inhibitions, sort of like Doximall or GHB. And for most people, that wasn't a problem; in fact, it helped them hook up with the opposite sex and have fun. Not to mention spend more money on drinks. It acted as kind of a super-alcohol, doing more to remove inhibitions than normal.

Unfortunately however, Xander Harris was not 'most people'. He was unique, in more ways than one. Living as he did, he was more self-confident and assertive than normal people. And so the tainted beer acted to amplify this assertiveness, making Xander more aggressive.

{What's happening to me?} Harris thought foggily after drinking the doctored alcohol, looking around. Then he stared at Monica, instinct telling him she was responsible for whatever it was that was going on. "What have you?"

"It's just a little something to help you relax. I promise, it's fine - I've had it lots of times myself," the dancer said honestly.

Xander would have begged to disagree, but at that moment his base desires won out. And so instead, he laughed. Mystically inebriated, he laughed and laughed.

Harris then focused back on Monica. She asked in concern, "Are you all right?"

"Never better." Xander decided to press the point as he had little time. "Monica, I need to be straight with you. We don't have much time and whatever happens tonight, is just for tonight. You'll almost certainly never see me again after this, for more reasons than one. So that being said, what do you say we just skip the preliminaries and head back to your place?"

Monica blinked, not expecting Xander to be quite so forward. But then, she wasn't looking for a relationship: tonight, she was just looking for a good time with her date. Tomorrow could take care of itself, Monica was more concerned with the here and now.

"Fine with me, Alex."

The mystically-influenced human quickly found Oz, and told him that he and Monica were heading back to her place. The werewolf frowned, because he knew how devastated Harris had been after Rachael's murder only a few months ago. But then Daniel just simply nodded and informed the head of the security detail of the change in plans, and watched his friend and female companion leave.

{I hope he knows what he's doing. And that Xander knows enough to keep his mouth shut about this, if Fred ever asks what we got up to this weekend. }

The apartment of Monica Carter, Athens, Georgia. Later that night

Xander looked around the room, it was for the most part about what he would expect of a co-ed's apartment. Various posters lined the wall. There was a closed laptop on the corner desk, and the chair at the desk had a pair of ice skates hanging from it.

{At least there's no stuffed animals, well - none that I can see. They're probably in the closet.} He thought to himself. He then stood up straight, relaxing and enjoying the moment. {Right then. Let's get on with it. I want this now. }

The room was silent, except for the ticking of a wall clock. Monica then broke the awkward silence, "Can I get you anyth-"

What followed was almost like something out of bad porno movie, as the man grabbed the blonde dancer and they started making out. Things heated up so fast that almost instantly their clothes went flying, and the duo had to take it into the bedroom.

The events of the next few hours were something that Monica would never forget, no matter how long she lived or how many other men she touched. Because as Faith and Rachael could have told her, had they still been alive, Xander Harris was quite the party animal in bed if he wanted to be. In the end though, the drug effects wore off as expected and the Timetripper became himself once more.

{WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!?} He threw himself off of her in horror and shame. Xander then quickly shook the dance team member awake. "Monica? Monica!"

"Huh?" she said groggily. "Wha' happen?"

"I just screwed the hell out of you," Xander snarled. "What the hell was in that beer you drugged me with?"

Monica blinked fuzzily, still in the throes of a post-coital daze. "Um, I'm not sure about the exact recipe but like I said, it's perfectly safe. Everyone says it really gives them a great buzz."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the man demanded roughly.

The nude blonde finally seemed able to understand that her lover was now clean of the drug-laced alcohol and pissed at her. "It means it's a great way to relax and let loose. No long-term effects," she explained.

"Sex doesn't have long-term effects?" Xander asked in disbelief.

"Well." Monica started to say hesitantly. She pointed at the waste basket near the bed, several used condoms were visible in there.

Xander found himself battling several different emotions at once. Anger was clearly present; however, he remembered that he had been that age once, his decision-making abilities hadn't been that clear-headed either when it came to partying. {Before I got my 'insight', that could very well have been me.} He thought to himself. There was also sadness, Rachael still was strong in his thoughts and his having slept with another woman so soon after her death just seemed wrong to him, no matter how under the influence he had been.

Harris couldn't help it, the angry look he sent the woman was mixed with more than a little sadness. "Take my advice, Monica. Don't ever go back to that bar as pretty soon it's gonna get raided and shut down, and the owners might be able to guess that that was all thanks to you. And something else: the next guy you just want to loosen up a little like that, he might be a psycho loony and decide to kill you afterwards! So stay away from the college drug scene from now on, if you know what's good for you."

Bare-ass naked, Xander left the bedroom without another word, grabbed his clothes and then headed for the front door after getting dressed. He ignored Monica's fervent pleading to stay and simply said to the security detail, "Get me the hell outta here."

Khvajeh Ba Odin, Afghanistan. September 9, 2001

The guard nodded as the two journalists passed by him into the building, with their guide trailing behind them. When the door closed behind them, he unslung his AK-47 as the other guard did likewise.

A pickup truck pulled up, and several more guards jumped out of the back. They took up positions around the building.

After about a minute or so shouts could be heard from within, followed by gunshots. A loud explosion shook the building. After a few seconds, the door flung open with smoking billowing out. One of the journalists came running out clutching a pistol.

The guards didn't give him any chance to fire at them. They gunned down the terrorist immediately, not even offering him a chance to surrender. His body flopped around for a few seconds, before slumping to the ground.

The guard rushed inside, meeting the guide as he was coming out. "Is he all right? Did it work?"

The guide nodded. "Yes, he's safe, it was just as we were warned."

The guard grinned. "Praise be to Allah. They will pay for this!"

STW safehouse, Athens, Georgia. Not long afterwards

{I have *got* to be the friggin' butt-monkey of the entire damn universe.}

If Dr. Christine Reynolds had been there and been able to read Xander's emotional state right now, she would have been rather astonished at what she would have perceived. There was a sense of disappointment, anger and resentment at events of the previous night. And combined with a feeling of betrayal and disrespect, all this did not make for the healthiest of attitudes.

But at the same time, Harris couldn't deny he felt more relaxed and buzzed than he'd ever felt since coming back from the dead in Urbana. The giving and receiving of recent sexual pleasure had truly made him feel *alive*. Getting laid had obviously had a somewhat beneficial effect on his physical form; and Cleburne, concerned as always about Xander's monastic tendencies, probably would have been happy with the outcome if not the method used to achieve it.

If only the same could be said about the former slave's mental state, however.

Xander already knew this was one secret he could not share with his keepers. Oz maybe, but not the rest of the Siberians. They would insist on much stricter security protocols, Joshua especially, and living in STW's cage (by any other name) was already onerous enough. Besides, forewarned was forearmed; now that he knew what could happen, Xander was pretty sure that it wouldn't ever happen again with the proper precautions.

Even if that logic seemed to resemble locking the stable door after the horse had bolted far too much for his comfort.

And then, as Xander stared in the bathroom mirror, he suddenly realized what today was. His birthday, so to speak.

His mind and body were 25 years old today, even if the date on his birth certificate didn't match up. And just like this time last year when the Wizard had explained to him the situation, Xander had a moment of introspection to process how it all felt.

{Holy shit. Hard to believe I actually made it to the old quarter-century mark; there was a time I didn't expect to live past high school. Well, let's look at it this way: I just got one hell of a birthday present a few hours ago.}

Chuckling humorlessly Xander splashed some water on his face. Breathing deeply, he then forced himself to put aside the tumultuous events of yesterday. They were irrelevant for now, and the man knew he needed to focus.

A little over 48 hours from now, a gruesome and tragic event that would claim thousands of American lives would hopefully be erased from the pages of history. And he, Alexander Lavelle Harris, the one-time Zeppo of the Scooby gang, would be there to see it happen.

What would happen after that, Xander didn't know. But suddenly, he couldn't wait to find out.

A place where nothing is as what it seems. Later that night

"No, I've never thought of Xander like that," Buffy said to Faith as she staked a vampire in what appeared to be one of Sunnydale's cemeteries.

Faith looked at her sister Slayer. "Come on, not once? Never? Even when you got all hot and sweaty, with no kill to take the edge off?"

Buffy shook her head. "He's Xander."

Suddenly, they were standing in front of huge building. It took Buffy a few seconds to place it, but then she realized it was the Pentagon. {What the-?}

Faith's demeanor changed. She folded her arms and glared at the building. "Well, they better treat him right or I'm coming back and kicking their asses. And you blow this second chance, I'll kick your ass as well B!" she said, shifting her glare to Buffy.

The blonde Slayer held up her arms in defense. "Hey, wait a minute." she started to protest.

Only to stop when Buffy realized she wasn't in front of the Pentagon anymore.

Faith was gone. Buffy found herself sitting in an airliner, first class seat from the looks of it. All around her, there was chaos and screaming. Some passengers were rising from their seats while others were trying to shrink into them. She stood up and looked at the source of the screams.

Rushing down the aisle of the plane was a group of men. Buffy could see they were carrying something, and someone that looked vaguely familiar to her was leading them. They rushed to where Buffy was standing.

"Out of the way!" the lead man shouted.

A moment later, Buffy found herself standing on the street in front of Angel's old mansion. With a chill, she realized this was the morning of the Acathla incident. The Slayer then heard rustling to her right. She raised her sword and as she remembered from the dim ancient past, a 17-year-old Xander Harris popped out of the bushes.

"Cavalry's here. Cavalry's a frightened guy with a rock, but it's here," he said right on cue.

"If you wanna consider a boy with a busted arm the cavalry," Buffy muttered.

"Don't worry, this time there might just be some real cavalry, definitely more than me with my busted arm here," Xander replied as he dropped the rock and appeared to grow years older.

"I've been here before," the blonde Chosen One said, figuring out she was having a Slayer dream. "Why are you here?" She stared at Xander. "You're dead," Buffy finished up in a sad tone.

Xander just smiled at his former friend and romantic crush, as his neck started bleeding. Suddenly Sunnydale vanished again, and Buffy was on a runway tarmac. A jet liner was nearby with a staircase pushed up against the hatchway. And yet now, there was a dark-haired girl with her.

"Damn, how did I get here?" the stranger said, looking around.

Before Buffy could reply, the hatchway opened up and the group of men from earlier in the dream came rushing down the stairs. Buffy could now see they were carrying someone. She saw a nearby ambulance have its doors flung open by paramedics.

"Over here!" they shouted to the group of men.

The group came down the staircase, and hurried by the two girls. Buffy realized one of the men in the middle of the group was Xander, the front of his shirt stained with blood. {Now this is odd.}

"You're Buffy, right?" the other girl asked, pulling Buffy's attention from Xander.

"Yeah. Who are you?" Buffy asked. Usually, she knew whoever it was she was dreaming about.

"I'm Kennedy, the Slayer in Cleveland," the younger Slayer explained, looking around. "Damn, I'm having my first Slayer dream aren't I? I knew it had to happen sooner or later! Kick ass..."

Kennedy's words just making her feel old, Buffy turned her attention back to Xander; who was climbing into the ambulance. It started to drive off. Buffy started running after it, "Xander, Xander wait!"

"What do you want?"

Buffy turned and saw Harris somehow standing right next to her. Kennedy started hurrying to get where they were.

"Xander, I just wanted..." Her voice trailed off, as Buffy was suddenly unsure what to say.

Harris cocked his head, as once again blood came seeping out of his injured neck. "Change, heralded by three. First Slayer told you that, remember? You need to think about what you'll say when you finally meet the real me."

Buffy was confused now. "Real you?" she asked as Kennedy came up next to her.

Suddenly, the girls were no longer on the airport tarmac. They were in a mountainous valley surrounded by Bedouins.

"Cool!" Kennedy said in wonder. "Zabuto told me all about these dreams, but I-"

Suddenly, the ground started shaking. The Bedouins started running around in terror, hurriedly packing up to leave. Nearby, a couple of Toyota pickup trucks filled with huddled mujahideen soldiers drove down a road at a high rate of speed.

"Naughty, naughty, they angered the big bad Uncle."

Buffy and Kennedy turned at the voice. "Drusilla," the blonde said at once with a voice full of dull hatred, remembering what had happened to Kendra all those years ago.

"Hey, that's the crazy vampire Sam warned me about!" Kennedy said urgently. She was suddenly holding a stake in her hand.

"Silly girl," Drusilla said affectionately. "It's just a dream, your li'l stick" She stepped forward and impaled herself on the stake. Dru then stepped back, with the stake in her heart. "does nothing except show how pretty my eyes are."

"What do you want?" Buffy asked. This was quickly turning into old home week dream for her.

Drusilla looked at the fleeing pickup trucks. "They've gone and done it now, they 'ave. The big bad Uncle's going to be most stern with them. All cross like Miss Edith, without her tea and cake." She turned and looked at the Slayers. "He's watching you, he is, and he's going to come to you. He's ignored you for so long, but the kitten turned wildcat is gonna bring 'im where he belongs. And nothing will ever be the same again."

Suddenly, there were massive explosions all around them. Buffy and Kennedy lost sight of Drusilla in the clouds of dirt being thrown up.

And just as suddenly, Buffy bolted upright in her bed at 1630 Revello Drive.

"Damn it," she muttered. The Chosen One leaned over and picked up the phone on the nightstand. She then dialed the number she knew by heart. After waiting a few seconds, the Slayer spoke into the mouthpiece.

"Giles, it's Buffy, I need to see you first thing in the morning. Yeah, Slayer dream, and this one's a doozy. Makes the nightmare I had when I thought John Tesh was chasing me around in a devil's costume look tame by comparison!"

Next to her, the digital clock on the nightstand changed over to midnight on the morning of September 10, 2001.

TBC...