Part Fifty-Two

Sunnydale Airport, Sunnydale, California. September 26, 2001

Joyce Summers smiled as she watched her oldest daughter carry her luggage through the airport terminal. More than a few passers-by glanced in surprise at such a small woman carrying such a large suitcase. Well, never mind - there were some advantages to having the Slayer as a daughter, and this was one of them.

Behind her and Buffy, Dawn and Giles followed as the quartet made their way through the crowd. "Mom, why do you have go all the way to Philadelphia all by yourself?" Dawn wanted to know.

"Yeah. I could go with you, visit the Liberty Bell and all that historical stuff," Buffy suggested as they walked along. She didn't want her mom out of her sight, especially at this point in the nation's history.

Joyce just shook her head. "No dear, you have school."

"Then you should wait until I have a break from college!" the Chosen One retorted.

"The gallery in Philadelphia can't wait that long, and I'm not an invalid anymore, dear," Joyce tried to be grown-up and reasonable about this. "I've got out of state buyers lined up right now. If I can't close the deal soon, they'll go elsewhere. So I have to go there right now - in person," the middle-aged mom said firmly, heading off the comment that Buffy was about to say about doing business by phone. This was not a new conversation for Joyce with her daughters.

"Still mom, is this a good time to travel, what with everything that's been going on?" Dawn asked.

"I'd say it's alright. Honey, look at all the security," Joyce nodded towards two National Guardsmen walking up and down the concourse. "There are a lot of changes nowadays from just a few months ago."

"You promise you'll be back in three days?" Dawn asked.

Joyce nodded. "All my business will be done by then." She deliberately didn't add anything about all of her business not being just in Philadelphia.

"You take care, you understand?" Giles' concern was obvious in his accented voice.

"Of course, dear," Joyce smiled, and after a quick kiss she vanished through the connecting tunnel to the plane.

Siberian Trip Wire headquarters, Georgetown, Washington D.C. The same time

Xander rubbed his eyes. "Tell me again, why am I going over the organizational charts of al-Qaeda?"

"Part of being a Marine officer," Cleburne said from his desk, without looking up. Xander was sitting at another desk in the office with several files in front of him.

"But I thought you made me a Marine officer because of my skill in fighting vampires and spooks."

"We're not fighting the CIA," Cleburne typed a little on the computer keyboard he was working at. "Well, not right now, anyway - budget time is something else entirely."

Cleburne looked up and saw Xander's look of confusion. "Spooks, you said you fight spooks. It's a nickname everyone in the trade has for the CIA."

Xander sighed, it was times like this he suspected Cleburne would never truly understand the supernatural world. When he had said spooks he had *meant* spooks, as in ghosts and spirits. "Vampires, then. That's my thing, fighting vampires."

"Trust me, kid, you don't want to become a one-trick pony. Not only will it help keep you relatively sane by dealing with the human world once in a while, it'll also do you a lot of good to learn how to fight a new enemy." Cleburne went back to his computer. "After all, Chesty Puller learned how to fight the Japanese while fighting guerrillas in Central America."

"Who's Chesty Puller?"

The office turned silent at Xander's question. {He's gotta be kidding me, surely?} the older man thought to himself in disbelief.

Finally, Cleburne looked up and shook his head. "Kid, I know you've not had the benefit of a proper Marine Corps education, so I'll let that slide - this time, anyway. But in the meantime..." He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a book. He tossed it over to Xander. "You have some more studying to do."

Xander looked at the title of the book. 'A History of the United States Marine Corps'. "You have got to be yanking my chain, right?"

"No, I'm not. Seriously, if you're gonna be a Marine you need to know the history of the Corps. This isn't a cover like the whole Rangers thing, and others might not be as forgiving of you as I am." He saw Xander expression and added, "Hey, if you think that's not your speed, I've got a lot of al-Qaeda documents captured in Afghanistan that need translating."

Harris was no fool, he knew when to pick his battles and this was not one of those times to argue with the good colonel. "No, no, this book is fine, but - why am I stuck in the office, anyway? I know we've got ops going on out in the field."

"Someone has made you, kid. Remember our Ahluc demon friend talking about 'her' knowing all about you? Until we get a line on who that 'her' is, I want you somewhere I feel safe having you. No demons here in the Gulag, after all."

Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. A while later

Cordelia finished writing on the message slip. Once she had finished, she placed it in the in-box tray for Angel.

Things were still a little tense here at Angel Investigations, just as they had been ever since the day that Cordelia had found out about Xander still being alive and that Lorne's reading of the guy had ended up with him having a vision of her being dead and buried in 2004. Needless to say, she was still having trouble dealing with that.

The others had been walking on pins and needles around her. They had been trying to be helpful without appearing to be overly-concerned, they really had. Well - Darla hadn't, she had just been her normal self. The others had been solicitous of Cordy, which made it hard for her to stay mad at them. Well, too mad at them anyway.

Of course, it had helped that her arm was kinda sore from throwing that phone book at Angel's head.

The young woman looked around the empty lobby, Darla was upstairs and the rest of the Fang Gang was out on a job. The Lost Boys had given them a tip that a group of vampires were acting as enforcers for a street gang, in exchange for free blood and what-not. So the good guys had gone out to put a stop to that.

The front doors to the lobby swung open and the gang walked in, Wesley limping. "It's done?" Miss Chase asked.

Angel looked at Cordy. "Yeah, no more vampire enforcers on the street, at least for tonight."

"Wes got hurt?'

Wesley looked embarrassed. "Well, there was a scuffle, and-and I tripped upon dispatching a vampire."

Cordy suppressed a laugh. Gunn spoke up, "Vampire still wound up dusty."

"Well, at least that's something," Cordelia remarked. "Messages are in the box."

She turned her back and then grabbed her forehead, screaming in pain. Behind her at the door, Gwen Raiden was also screaming. The others were scrambling to help the two of them, when Cordy blacked out.

The next thing she knew, she was looking up from the floor as Angel and Wes looked down at her. "What happened?"

"You screamed and then fainted. A vision, I take it?" Wes was the one who responded.

"Yeah. Demon with claws slashing at someone and there was a coin, couldn't really see more than that. I think something really wanted its change." The young woman was rubbing her forehead gingerly.

Angel suppressed a smile. If the brunette was still able to wisecrack, then it wasn't too bad. "Gwen had a vision too; she went down at the same time as you."

"You see anything like I did?" Cordelia asked the other woman present.

Gwen was standing nearby, with Gunn next to her. "No, it's weird. I got nothing, my message service didn't ring for this call." The thief didn't understand why she'd gotten the pain but no accompanying communication from the higher beings.

"Apparently this wasn't a party line call," Cordelia agreed. She sat up herself and rubbed her side. "Ow! Hold on, let me collect myself." She stood up uneasily. The former cheerleader made her way to the restroom, and splashed water on her face.

After a few seconds, she lifted up her shirt. "What the hell-?" Cordelia said in alarm, as she looked at the claw marks on her back.

UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California. September 27, 2001

Willow clicked on the website. She looked at the new page that had been brought up, taking notes as she did so. {Huh, now that's interesting.}

The door to her dorm room opened up and Tara walked in. "Hey, sweetie."

Willow looked up. "Hey, honey. How was sociology class?"

"Uh, Professor Vondas was particularly long-winded today. He started going on and on about the dynamic interactions of various social groups." Tara walked up behind Willow and looked at the computer. "How about you, did you get your quantum physics paper done?"

"Yeah, I did, although it took quite a bit of effort to get the thesis from that Dr. Hollins guy in Chicago. It took some reading for me to be able to understand him as well. And hey, that was five years ago, so I can't help but wonder what he's done since then."

Tara looked at Willow, her suspicions suddenly aroused. "And after that?"

"Did a little research online."

"Find anything out about Xander?" Tara raised an eyebrow at Willow's look. "Willow, you're taking notes while surfing paranormal sites. Normally, you'd do that at the Magic Box. That way, you can cross-reference with the books there, y'know?"

Willow sighed, knowing she was busted. "Yeah, well. Anya was bugging me again, asking questions about Xander; she really needs to get a life! I figure I can get more done here, cross-reference later."

Tara shrugged, it made sense. "What did you find?"

Willow tapped the notepad. "Not much. As far as I can tell, it looks like no one else has realized that was him getting off the plane. The timing with what happened at Disney World must have made people focus on that, instead of Xander's little performance in Baltimore. Oh, a-and a lot of people are wondering what else the Timetripper has told the government. Some of them are wondering if he's human or some kind of human-looking demon. "

Tara smiled. "Anya would love that. She's been going on and on about demon rights for the last few days."

"Well, she's not alone."

Tara frowned at Willow's statement. "What do you mean?"

"I found a few other websites, uh, well, demon chat rooms - I think. They're talking about Xander as well."

Tara looked worried, "You mean they're looking for him, they want to hurt him?"

Willow shook her head. "No, it's not that. It's like they think he can change things, they're looking *up* to him."

"For what?"

"I really don't know."

Somewhere in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. A few hours later

Joyce Summers cradled the phone on her shoulder, speaking to her youngest daughter in Sunnydale. "I know, dear, I know you could learn a lot here in Philadelphia. There are a lot of historical places here. The cab I took this morning took me right by Independence Hall."

She listened for a few seconds. "Maybe when Christmas break comes around you, Buffy and I can go on a trip. Honey, I have to go - I have to catch a cab. Yes, to the next meeting, the dealer has a lot of items I think I make a good profit on. I'll call you tonight to let you know how the meeting went. Bye, sweetie, you and your sister take care."

Joyce hung up. She had been telling the truth about having to catch a taxi. However, she wasn't going to a meeting with a dealer. She had a train to catch to Maryland.

141 Embury Street, Los Angeles, California. The same time

Cordelia winced as she shifted on her couch. Angel and the others had started researching the vision ever since yesterday, looking particularly into the coin thing she'd glimpsed. She had decided to go back to her apartment afterwards; something about being clawed by a vision monster that wasn't actually there simply did not put her in the mood for bookworm duty.

A blanket moved from the table to her. "Thanks, Dennis," Cordelia said gratefully. {How did I ever manage to live without a ghost?}

There was a knock at the front door, and Cordy managed to get up and make her way there. She opened up to see Angel and Gunn standing outside. Cordelia stood aside silently as they entered.

Angel held up a coin. "Where did you get that?" Miss Chase asked, recognizing the item in question.

"Did some digging, there was this elderly couple down in Chinatown. We paid 'em a visit. Turns out they were actually demons passin' as humans. After a bit of a fight, we got the coin. Wes is back at the hotel doin' the book thing," Gunn answered.

"And this helps how?"

Angel answered Cordelia this time. "Well, we're hoping to figure out why the Powers sent that vision to you. It was a pretty bad one, after all."

"I've had worse."

"Don't give me that. I've never smelled on blood on you after a vision before."

Cordy sighed in annoyance. She should have known better than to try and hide something like that from the vampire. "It was just a scratch."

"No it wasn't, and Gwen said the same. And we both know that's not right," Angel replied obstinately. "From what I could smell, I know it was a lot more than 'just a scratch'. Do you still have the scarring?"

Cordy shook her head. "No, it was gone about an hour afterwards, even if it still hurts." She started scratching her forehead. "Speaking of hurting." Miss Chase screamed and grabbed her head. Angel and Gunn hurried to help as she fell to her knees.

After about thirty seconds, the mystically battered woman managed to straighten up. She motioned over to the coffee table and Dennis floated over a notepad with a pencil. Cordy quickly started scribbling on the notepad.

"Here, there's a key at this address. Go get the key. What?" Cordelia said as she saw the look on Angel and Gunn's faces.

She felt her face and gasped in horror. Her face was entirely covered in boils.

Bethesda Navy Hospital, Maryland. September 28, 2001

Dr. Chalmers read the chart, making notations as he did so. As one of the doctors on call to the President himself, he took whatever opportunity he could to get caught up on the paperwork.

He looked up at the knocking on the door. "Come in!" A middle-aged blonde woman who looked familiar did so. Chalmers thought for a second, placing the face. "Mrs. Summers?"

"Dr. Chalmers. How are you today?"

Chalmers stood up and shook her hand. "I'm well, thank you. Uh, I hope you'll pardon me if it sounds like I'm being insulting, but - what are you doing here? Is everything all right? I normally don't have patients coming all the way across the country to visit me if everything is fine, so I have to ask - how are you doing?"

Joyce smiled politely. "I was in Philadelphia on a business trip. I caught the train here last night, because I have some things to take care of." She nodded at the other chair in the office. "May I?"

He nodded. "Of course, please - forgive my lack of manners." Joyce sat down and Chalmers followed a few seconds later. "Well, now. How exactly is your recovery coming along, I notice you're still using a cane?"

Joyce nodded. "I'm doing well, all things considered. Physical therapy is helping, most of the time I can get by without the cane - although I carry it with me, better safe than sorry." She lifted the cane up to hip level.

Chalmers smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Hopefully before too long, you won't need it at all."

"I know Xander Harris is alive," Joyce said abruptly, going for the whole shock factor to see just how deep the surgeon was involved in the conspiracy.

To her disappointment, Chalmers just looked confused. "I beg your pardon?"

The Summers woman adjusted her position a little. "Well, you may know him as Alexander Harris, or maybe something else entirely. In fact, you may have no idea at all who I'm talking about. However, I'm sure your roommate would know the person whom I'm talking about. You know, the person who originally sent you to Sunnydale?"

"Mrs. Summers?" Chalmers said. He was starting to feel concerned though, and it showed on his face. {Josh, you and your cloak and dagger antics, I don't need this right now!}

Joyce continued on, she was smart enough to know when she'd managed to make some in-roads into her goal and so she went on the attack. "Now, I'm not looking to cause trouble, well - not too much trouble anyway. I just want to know that that boy is all right, and that he's being treated well. From what I've heard, what with that whole kidnapping thing way back when, that might not be the case. Xander is someone I care about, Dr. Chalmers, there was a time it was as if he was a member of my family, the son I never had, almost. As a mother, I want to make sure that his needs are being taken care of. If I can't get that assurance, well."

"I, I don't know what to say," the doctor tried to stone-wall until he could figure out how to deal with this bombshell. {Cleburne, what have you gotten me involved in?!}

Joyce stood up and handed a folded piece of paper to Chalmers. "Here's my cell phone number. Have your roommate or whoever it is call me. And tell them I have proof of what I've been talking about. I'll wait a little while before I go to the papers about it, but not too long."

141 Embury Street, Los Angeles, California. The same time

The door to Cordy's apartment was opened by Gwen. Angel stood outside and said, "Where is she?"

"Bedroom."

"How are you?" Angel asked.

"Doing better, my original 'gift' has some advantages. Still sore, but I'm in better shape than her."

Angel nodded and walked by Miss Raiden, making his way to the bedroom. Cordelia was lying in the bed as Wesley stood nearby with a worried look. "What happened?" the vampire asked.

"Another vision," was Wesley's concerned reply. "She was thrown across the room and when we went to help, well. You can see for yourself what happened, although it is fading." Angel moved over to the bed and examined his seer.

Angel winced as he saw the burns on her face and arms. "That's it, no more cooking on an open stove for me," Cordy managed to feebly joke.

Angel handed a key over to Wesley. "This has gotta stop. Wes, what do we know?"

"Wolfram & Hart, Angel-cake." Angel turned around; he honestly hadn't noticed Lorne standing in the corner over there. "I did a reading and these visions aren't the real deal, their source is earth-bound; and the vibes I'm getting off of Cordy-kins here are coming straight from Demon Lawyers 'R Us. They're doing this to her, somehow."

Angel actually growled a little bit. "Lilah."

"Yeah, odds are," Gwen shrugged, wondering if she herself was going to be next on the hit list. It made sense, anyway; target and demoralise one seer before focusing your attention on the next one. Divide the enemy's attention and conquer while they're distracted. "So what do we do?"

"Start playing hard-ball," the vampire decided forcefully, before he grabbed the key and the coin and swept out of the apartment. It wouldn't be long before Angel would find himself in another dimension, to find something - or rather someone - that Lilah wanted.

National Art Gallery, Washington, D.C. September 29, 2001

Joyce looked around somewhat nervously, finally having doubts about her chosen course of action and wondering what on earth she was doing here all alone, without even Buffy around for backup.

She shuffled her feet, as she stood in front of the painting of Washington crossing the Delaware during the Revolutionary war. As Joyce looked at the portrait, she hoped that she had as much luck today as the first President had had that night.

The middle-aged woman had no way of knowing that ever since Bert Chalmers had called his former roommate to tell him about Joyce's visit, things had been pretty much become a complete uproar within Siberian Trip Wire. Like Gwen had once said, the organization didn't like the belief that Xander Harris had died years ago being challenged by anyone, least of all the inhabitants of Sunnydale. Cleburne had started ranting and raving about it, but Mrs. Marcum had ordered him to calm down and focus on 'damage control'.

"How the hell do we do *that*, I ask you?" Joshua had yelled loudly at her over the phone.

"You're talented at these things, old friend," the black woman had said with impossible calm and serenity. "I'm sure you and your bunch of 'exiles' will come up with something." She had then hung up, but with a worried look on her face. If Cleburne *wasn't* able to come up with something, the STW team currently monitoring Joyce would most likely have to do something unpleasant.

{Where are they?} Joyce Summers thought fretfully to herself, checking her watch yet again. {That silly deep throat phone call said to be here at noon.}

"You know, the British burned the original painting."

Joyce turned around and there was Cleburne in a business suit, standing next to her. She gathered her wits quickly. "Excuse me?"

"I know, the joke writes itself - British guys angry over the American Revolution turn around and burn one of the iconic images of said revolution. However, in all fairness to them, the painting was in a museum in Bremen Germany in 1942 when the RAF bombed the city. They weren't aiming at the painting, it just got burned up in the resulting fire. They didn't even know it was there, but it was war, back then was a different time. Total war, when whatever was needed to be done was done for the greater good, no matter what the cost."

This meeting had not started off the way she'd been hoping it would. "I take it you're Dr. Chalmers' roommate?"

"Yeah," Cleburne said, a definite tone of annoyance now showing up in his voice. "Thanks a lot for your little message to him, by the way. I got quite an earful from good ol' Bert yesterday, about getting him involved in something that he simply doesn't want to know about. After this meeting, if you could possibly get in touch to tell him everything's been resolved satisfactorily? I'd be much obliged."

"How do I know you're the one who can answer my questions about Xander?" Joyce asked, she didn't want to tip her hand about knowing the Marine colonel by sight just yet.

Cleburne nodded. "Fair enough question, that's why I brought along someone who can vouch for me."

"Hey, Mrs. Summers. Long time no see."

Joyce swung around, and became unbalanced enough to fall over. Oz quickly grabbed hold of her and managed to steady Joyce until the woman was balanced on her feet again, her cane coming in very useful. "Ought to be careful. That marble floor's not exactly soft down there."

Joyce frowned at the purple-haired young man, before recognition finally set in. She hadn't seen this particular werewolf musician for some years, after all. "Aren't you the boy who used to date Willow during high school? Um."

"Yeah. I'm Oz," Daniel nodded, monosyllabic as ever.

{Oh Lord, what a time for him to show up!} "I'm sorry, dear, but you see, this isn't really a good time. I'm meeting someone." Joyce trailed off rather lamely.

"I know." the werewolf remarked with his traditional calm, laid-back manner.

"What do you mean, you know?" Joyce demanded, confusion slowly starting to turn into suspicion in her heart.

"You're here about Xander. So am I," Oz told the woman rather cryptically.

"Young man, what exactly do you mean by that?" Joyce said in her strongest 'mom' voice.

"Way I hear it, you've really set the cat amongst the pigeons ever since yesterday," Oz told her. "Especially that thing about you having proof that Xander's alive."

Joyce began to back away slightly. "You're one of them, aren't you?!"

"Depends on who exactly you mean by 'them'," Joyce heard Cleburne say. She started doing the whole 'almost falling down' trick all over again. This time it was Cleburne who caught and steadied her. "Careful now, ma'am, Wolfie does have a point. That floor's pretty hard down there. I wouldn't want a lady to fall and break something, my mother brought me up better than that."

Joyce stepped away from the USMC officer and STW field director, trying to restore some semblance of dignity. The three of them stood silent for about a minute while patrons of the museum walked around them.

"Well, Mrs. Summers, what next?" Cleburne finally asked.

Joyce fidgeted for a second. "Uh, that depends."

"On what?" Oz asked.

"On how this little conference progresses," the blonde woman said, looking around. "My goodness, but I almost feel like I'm in a spy movie - the public place, the crowds, the clandestine meeting."

"I got voted down on having this meeting at the townhouse." Oz said laconically.

"Wolfie." Cleburne growled at him. "All right, Mrs. Summers, let's hear it. You said you have proof that Xander Harris is alive. What proof are you talking about?"

"We'll get to that, mister." Joyce trailed off. "Who *are* you, anyway? According to my sources," Joyce caught herself in time, "you're a colonel of some sort?"

Cleburne wanted to grind his teeth together, wondering how on earth Joyce had learned that little tidbit. It didn't occur to him that the meeting he and Buffy and Willow had had in Lemke's bookstore way back when was the reason why this woman knew his rank, if not his name. "I could be, but my name isn't important, Mrs. Summers. I don't know how you know what you know yet, but I have to tell you - you already know way too much for your own good!"

"Very well, Colonel," Joyce said in an unfriendly tone. "What I want to know is, where's Xander?"

"I can't tell you that," Cleburne fired back. "Too much effort has been put into keeping the secret for you to wander in and upset this applecart."

"Why, you-!" Joyce looked incredibly annoyed at the veiled threat.

"I'm sensing hostility on both sides," Oz said noncommittally. "Ought to cut it out, it's not gonna help resolving the problem."

"Thank you Dr. Phil," Joshua grumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Look, Colonel-"

"No, *you* look," Cleburne interrupted. "Mrs. Summers, you've put everyone in a very difficult position, do you understand that? If it was anyone else, right now we would be having a whole different conversation, and a whole bunch of people on stand-by in California would be heading to Sunnydale to find that so-called 'proof' you've mentioned. You think I'm not serious? People only get to think that once!"

"It's true enough," Oz nodded, much to Joyce's concern. "The stakes are that high, and this guy has done a lot of bad things in his time."

"Things are done in the dark so that babies can sleep peacefully to the morning," Cleburne muttered.

"What?" Oz said.

"Something someone said to me a long time ago," Cleburne replied. He turned back to Joyce. "Mrs. Summers, you really have gone and hit the wasp's nest with a rock, and that gets a whole bunch of people riled up. People who can get away with doing very bad things to other people, in the name of national security."

"I see," Joyce now looked shaken to the core, the way amateurs did when they discovered just what the professionals were willing to do that they weren't. "Then how do you suggest we resolve this?"

"You really have got proof the kid's alive? Give it to me," Cleburne said in no uncertain terms.

"Uh, no, it's not that simple. Copies of our evidence have been made, and-and hidden throughout Sunnydale and maybe even elsewhere. I don't know where, I'm not the one who did it," Joyce said sheepishly.

Cleburne looked as if he wanted to bang his head against the wall. {Like they said in The Thirty-Nine Steps, never underestimate the amateur.} "Wonderful. Then what do you suggest?"

"Can you prove to me that Xander's all right? That you people aren't mistreating him in any way?" Joyce asked hopefully.

"Is my word good enough?" Oz asked. "'Cause I saw him today, and he's fine. Well, complaining about the paperwork a lot, but otherwise he's okay."

{Paperwork? No, never mind.} Joyce let out a sigh of relief. "Well, thank goodness. We're all so worried about him back home, after all."

"Satisfied?"

Joyce looked at Cleburne in annoyance. "No. We're just getting started, as far as I'm concerned."

"You know, I get thirsty during negotiations. Maybe we should go to the food court," Oz shrugged as Joyce looked at him in confusion.

Cleburne nodded and starting walking away, then he paused for a second and looked back. "Well? Come on, negotiations take two to tango that way."

Joyce and Oz hurried behind him as they made their way through the museum, the conversation carrying on as they walked along. The negotiation continued as they got drinks and sat at table off to the side in the food court.

The conversation continued, with Joyce and Cleburne eventually reaching an agreement that he would keep Joyce, and *only* Joyce, informed as to what was going on with Xander in exchange for the Scooby gang's continuing silence. Cleburne also reiterated that Harris simply could not meet with the Sunnydale girls yet, despite how they felt about the matter, due to the mind-shattering headaches the guy would get right now.

That disappointed Joyce, but she hadn't really expected anything different. She was familiar with the whole 'screaming in agony' thing after all. She also agreed to try and slow down the Scoobies' attempts to find Xander, in exchange for Cleburne subtly trying to help along a reconciliation between Xander and the three girls he felt had utterly betrayed him so long ago.

"So we're agreed?" Cleburne felt as if he'd been through a tough negotiating session with the Committee, with regards to his organization's budget. "We all play nice, and everyone eventually gets what they want, right?"

"Yes, Colonel, I'd say so," Joyce nodded, before she checked her watch again. "Oh my! I'm going to have to hurry, I've got a train to catch back to Philadelphia." She stood up to get going.

"Joyce?"

The woman knew that male voice, there was a time she'd known it well. So for the first time in *years*, Joyce Summers turned and stood face to face with Alexander Lavelle Harris.

The middle-aged mom gaped at him in surprise. On an intellectual level, she knew that the guy had aged many years since the last time she had seen him, Buffy had explained about the time Xander had spent in a demon dimension. Still, subconsciously, she had been expecting to see that 17-year-old boy who had come over to her house and munched on cheesy chips whilst watching TV with his two best friends...

She *hadn't* been expecting to see a 25-year-old man with a terrible scar partly visible on his neck, his clothing hiding the rest of it. "Xander?"

Instantly Harris launched himself into her arms, grabbing the middle-aged woman tightly. Joyce started gasping for breath, the hug reminded her of when Buffy forgot her own strength. "Xander? Dear, please, I can't breathe!"

At once, Xander released her. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, sweetie, I'm fine," Joyce said as she stepped back to look at him properly. She didn't see Cleburne scowling at his protégé for showing up like this, which was probably just as well. "Oh my God, look at you! You're all grown up now." The woman trailed off, sensing something was wrong. "Xander? What is it?"

"It was all worth it," Harris said thickly, staring at Joyce like she was the Second Coming or something. "Four and a half years of hell, every single day of torture and pain was worth it - just for this one moment, all by itself."

"I, I don't understand-" Joyce said uncertainly.

"The last time I saw you, you were in the hospital morgue," Xander said with that thick tone of voice, his emotions turbulent and heaving. "You were *dead*, Mrs. S, I remember seeing your corpse. I remember attending your funeral. I remember grieving your loss with everyone. And yet here you are, alive. So like I said before, everything I ever went through was totally worth it, just to see your face one more time." He then gave Joyce another hug, startling the older woman - who had no idea what to say.

{ My God, but I'd almost forgotten, } Joyce thought to herself in shock as Xander let go. {All those things that he wrote in that letter, all those years ago; I'm supposed to be dead right now in the world he remembers, aren't I? That's why he can...speak...with...me.}

Finally, Buffy's mother pulled herself together. "Xander, would you-"

"If you want me to come with you to Sunnydale, then the answer is no," Xander interrupted her sharply, neither of them noting how Cleburne sighed in relief in the background. Xander's entire mood seemed to shift in a few seconds. "There is nothing there for me, not anymore."

"How can you say that?!" Joyce exclaimed, ignoring Oz's stare towards his friend. "You have people there who still love you, including-"

"Buffy? Willow?" Harris interrupted her again. "No, Joyce. See, you and they are in love with someone who doesn't exist anymore. I'm not that person any longer; I've seen and done too much ever since I came back from a hell world you couldn't even remotely imagine. In fact - some of the things that I've done in the past would probably make you despise me, if I told you all the ugly details."

Xander collected himself for a second and his mood shifted back. "Joyce, uh - sorry, Mrs. S?"

"Joyce is fine, dear," Joyce managed to croak out.

"Joyce, you have your whole life ahead of you now, a new path from before. You're with the people you love, and who love you. You've got extra time with them now, time you otherwise wouldn't have had. So go back to Sunnydale, and make that extra time last for as long as you can. If you're lucky, you might even live to see grandkids. Heck - you'll make a great grandmother too, if I'm any judge," Xander smiled, before he turned serious. "But one thing you have to understand; I won't be there to see it happen. There are simply too many people wanting to put me in a cage, or dissect my brain, or whatever. Like it or not, I'm on a different road to the old Scooby Gang now. And there is nothing you or anyone else can do to change that."

Joyce could only stare at this dark mirror of the boy she'd known. She tried to think of something to say in reply to that, but nothing really came to mind.

A moment later, a brunette woman walked up behind Harris. "Xander, come on, I want to see the Dawoud Bey collection. You'll love them!" she said with a Texan twang.

Xander smiled, as he put his hand on the small of Miss Burkle's back and gestured. "Joyce, this is Fred. Fred, this is Joyce Summers. She was the closest thing I had to a real mother back in high school."

Fred smiled widely. "Hi! I'm delighted to finally meet you, 'cause I've heard all the stories from Xander and Oz. Nothing but good things, too. Oh! I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to use my last name, so please don't think me rude or anything."

Joyce glanced over at Cleburne. "Your idea?"

Cleburne shrugged. "Hey, I'm amazed that these people actually listened to me at all. Those two, they're not even supposed to be here!" He glared at Xander and Fred.

"Xander wanted to be here," Fred said defensively.

"Oh, right, so don't listen to the guy whose job it is to keep the secret and keep you two safe. What - you thought to yourselves, let's go out in public to meet with someone who might spill the beans to the national media? Yeah, nothing could go wrong with that plan."

Fred didn't back down from Cleburne's comment. "You heard him, this person is practically his mother. How can you keep someone from their mother?"

"We'll talk about this later," Xander said sharply. Cleburne and Fred fell silent. "Joyce, I'm sorry but I need to go." He looked at Cleburne. "She needs a way to contact us if something happens."

Cleburne frowned and then sighed. "Fine, I'll take care of it."

Xander looked back at Joyce. "You take care, alright? Be very careful, especially in Sunnydale. I've lost too many people close to me, so I want to keep the ones I do save around as long as possible." He hugged Joyce one more time, before he stepped back and wiped his eyes once.

"G'bye, Mrs. Summers," Oz said his own farewells. He then turned and walked off with Fred and Xander, Joyce watching them all as they left.

"Well, I guess that's that," Cleburne said in a businesslike voice, as Joyce returned her attention to him. He stuck out his hand, and the blonde woman shook it rather dazedly. "I'll help you catch a cab, I know you have a train to catch." Joyce checked her watch absently, and noticed that she really did have to shake a leg to make it to the train station on time.

They started walking out of the food court. "He was the reason you knew about the terrorist attack in advance, wasn't he?" Joyce hazarded the question.

"Parts of it," Cleburne admitted. "Thing is, though, the bad guys changed their plans. Some things they did were different from what the kid lived through the first time around. Still, it could and would have been worse."

"It was that bad?"

"More than you can imagine, Mrs. Summers. Kid made a real difference to a whole lot of people." They then walked to the elevator in silence, Joyce wondering the whole time what on earth she was going to tell her family once she got back to Sunnydale.

A spillway somewhere in Los Angeles, California. September 30, 2001

Two limousines and several SUVs were parked on the runway. Members of the tactical team from Wolfram & Hart were standing around, guarding them. Coming down the runway was a muscle car with the windows blackened. It stopped several yards away from the limousine.

Lilah got out of the limo and walked towards the muscle car, leaving the limo door open. "Hello Angel, so good to see you again. I hope you have our unjustly imprisoned friend with you?" the attorney asked politely.

Angel scowled as he got out of the car. "First things first." Wesley got out of the other side of the car, armed with a heavy-calibre pistol.

Lilah continued smiling in a sickeningly pleasant way. "Not very trusting tonight, are we? I'm hurt."

"Get over it. I've got what you want, now you give me what I want...or else the only thing you'll get back from that demon dimension is a corpse."

Lilah rolled her eyes. "Oh, very well." She looked back to the limo and nodded. A few minutes passed. She kept watching someone in the limo the whole time, and then she turned back to the ensouled vampire. "It's done. What, you still don't trust me?"

Angel took out a cell phone and started to dial. "Gunn, it's me. How is she?" He listened for a few seconds. "Put Cordelia on. Hello, Cordy? Are you better? Are you sure, no more boils or burns? Good, I'll see you in a little bit." He hung up the cell phone and nodded to Wesley.

Wesley opened the door. A man with a blanket wrapped around him stepped out and walked away from the muscle car, his hands bound with rope. One of the SWAT team members quickly escorted him to the second limo, which immediately took off.

Lilah smiled broadly. "Well, now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Angel reached into the car and pulled out a rebar. With a dramatic movement, he flung it overhand towards the first limo. Lilah barely ducked down in time, before she straightened up. "What the-?"

Angel gestured with his chin towards the limousine. Lilah turned around and gasped. A man with a fez wrapped around his head was slumped halfway out of the limo. The rebar was deeply embedded in his forehead, and it was obvious the vision hacker with an exposed brain was completely and thoroughly dead.

Lilah turned around and found Angel, in game face, standing almost face to face to her. The evil lawyer noted that despite being that close to him, she could feel no breath even as he grabbed her by the neck. {Uh-oh, this wasn't part of the game plan.}

"You pissed me off with this latest stunt," Angel rumbled, he wasn't in the best of moods right now. He had recently gotten into a terrible fight with a silver-skinned demon calling himself Skip, the jailer of the prisoner known as Billy Blim; who had just been handed over to Lilah and her associates. It certainly hadn't sat well with Angel that he'd had to beat up the self-declared servant of the Powers to free an evil human from a cube of fire, which according to his information had been a justly deserved punishment. "You should have known that I wouldn't like you and yours forcing me to jump through hoops like that, and hurting two of my people wasn't the smartest move either. I never liked threats when I was Angelus, and I like them even less with a soul."

"Just a minor temporary situation with Ms. Chase and Ms. Raiden," Lilah managed to gasp out.

"You still don't get it, do you? You threaten one of us, you threaten all of us. And you can't do that without facing the consequences," Angel growled back. "I told you before, my crew is off-limits to your firm; don't you remember that conversation we had, back when you people tried to kidnap Connor? You try something like this again, I'll kill everybody at Wolfram & Hart - starting with you. And just so you know that I'm serious, here's a little reminder for you not to mess with me or mine again."

He tossed something into her chest with his free hand, a vial of liquid. Angel then turned around and walked back to the car, leaving Lilah standing there, the blood draining from her face. Then Ms. Morgan started to shriek in pain, as her skin started to itch and blaze from where the liquid had soaked through her clothes. Luckily for her, it would only leave a nasty but treatable burn mark and not permanently disfigure her beauty.

The tactical team members all raised their weapons to shoot at the vampire, but they never had a chance before Gwen felled them all with bolts of lightning blasting forth from her hands. She had been gotten out of the car to back up Wesley, who was aiming at the bad guys with his pistol. Once the lightning barrage stopped though he lowered the weapon, and got back into the muscle car along with his co-worker.

As Angel, Wesley and Gwen left the scene, Lilah seriously started to consider putting in for a transfer to another branch of the firm, *far* away from Los Angeles.

TBC...