See Part One for Disclaimer and details. Hello, everybody, and welcome to the final instalment of "The Effects Of Wishful Thinking"! First off I'd just like to once again thank all my beta readers, Nodakskip, Greywizard and most especially Mr. Mysterious for all their help on this story, words cannot express the depth of my gratitude. I'd also like to personally thank all the reviewers for this fanfic, who I'm listing in order of appearance:
Wonderbee31, Maximus Prime, Memory King, Quathis, Hanzo of the Salamander, zTiamaTz, Chi Vayne, Jean-theGuardian, NarutoXYugitoFTW, red-jacobson, Wes George, Bobboky, RavenWoodbane, Loatroll, Joel Skarrie, exeafirm, Craig T, lescavanagh, Anne, iota0000, trongod, theincendiarydevice and anyone else I missed!
Well, here we are then: the end of the line for this story. It's been fun over the past month or so, especially with all the feedback, but it's definitely time to start looking towards new horizons now. New fanfic ideas that will hopefully be different to stuff I've done before. So without any further ado, I present to you...
Part Seventeen: Be Back Before Dawn
A Place Where Nothing Need Be What It Seems
A Time Meaningless To Mortal Minds
It appeared to be Venice Beach, but it wasn't.
Granted, it certainly looked the part – the girls dressed in skimpy bikinis roller-blading, the muscled surfers carrying their surfboards, the uniformed cops pedaling away on their bicycles, the kids playing basketball...one could easily mistake it for Los Angeles's biggest cliché, the one seen in thousands of TV series and films around the world.
But somehow, some way, Buffy Anne Summers knew something was wrong as she walked along the pier.
"Hey, Buffy. Penny for your thoughts?"
The blonde Slayer whirled around upon hearing that very familiar male voice. She subsequently stared at Xander Harris.
Only it wasn't the Xander she knew, who most likely now lay rotting – or else had become bones and ashes – outside that melted temple on Kingman's Bluff. This Xander was older, taller and most importantly, had a black patch over his left eye.
"Who are you?" Buffy asked suspiciously.
"What makes you think I'm not Xander Harris?" the one-eyed man smiled at her.
"Well, for one thing, there's your left eye; and for another, MY Xander never called me Buffy. At least, not since fifth grade," Miss Summers replied. "So tell me, who are you?"
The one-eyed Xander's smile became a lot more painful. "I'm – well, I guess ya could call me the road not taken," he replied slowly, turning to stare out over the ocean.
"Huh?" Buffy didn't get that.
"I'm the Xander Harris who never knew you, until you arrived in Sunnydale. The one who grew up on the Hellmouth instead of LA. The one who loved Willow like a sister and Jesse like a brother. The one who loved Joyce like a mother and Giles like a father. The one who loved and lost Cordelia, and then Anya as well, a few years later. The one who was part of the Slayage for seven years, even though it hasn't been that long for you – at least, not yet," Xander replied, still examining the Pacific Ocean carefully.
Buffy was starting to get a major wiggins from this guy. "Okayyyy. So why are you here?"
"You're upset. You need to talk to someone about what's happened, an outsider – someone that won't just tell you whatever it is you want to hear. The Powers That Be figured I'd be the best bet for the job," the one-eyed man shrugged, turning back to face the Summers girl.
"The Powers That Be?" Buffy spat out. "Are we talkin' about the same people who picked me to be the Slayer? Who also drafted the real Xander into the fight against evil? Who let Darla become the enemy? Who let Jesse die? Who let Ms. Calendar and her baby die? Who let the real you die, as well as nearly twenty thousand civilians? THOSE Powers That Be?"
"Yep. And you can't fool me, Buff – it's not the PTBs who you're really pissed at right now. It's yourself," Xander said calmly. "But thing is, you couldn't have stopped all that from happening. Especially what happened to my – other self."
"Yes, I could have! I could have told Giles and Willow to chant the chant and work their mojo, it might have prevented you from-"
"Why are you assuming that it's all about you? About what you did or didn't do, where your Xander was concerned?" the older Xander interrupted. "Because that other me made his own choices, after Whistler told him that Darla was gonna kill Uncle Rory and his, uh, party guests. And just so you know, no one has to worry about that female vamp anymore – Ahn killed Darla, after she killed Allan Finch. And boy – wasn't that guy a useless Big Bad wannabe, by Sunnydale standards..."
"Who's Ahn? And, and Mayor Finch was a black hat?" Buffy asked in surprise.
"Uh-huh, but getting back on topic – Buffy, I know you sometimes feel like you have the weight of the whole frigging world on your shoulders. And there's no denying you've sacrificed a lot since the day your first Watcher, Merrick, found you. But take it from someone who knows – you're not the only one who's had to give up something precious to make sure the world's still there in the morning. I mean, believe it or not – there's another Slayer named Kendra living in Jamaica right now, whose original destiny really sucked-"
"WHAT?" Buffy's eyes were as wide as saucers.
"Yeah, I figure she'll be showing up soon for you to finally meet her. And as I recall Kendra's a real stiffener, even though her Watcher raised her to be the Ultimate Fighting Slayer with the personality of a brick. She got called after you died last year, even though it was Jesse who brought you back then, instead of me," Xander smiled and shook his head.
Buffy's mind was still trying to process that as Xander went on, "Plus, you've got the Scythe now. When she's ready, Willow could activate every single Potential on the planet with that thing, make them all members of the Chosen crowd. You'd have – close to three thousand Slayers, best as I can figure it.
"And that'd certainly help against Glory," the one-eyed Xander said musingly.
"Who's Glory?" Buffy demanded straightaway, even as her mind whirled at the concept of so many Slayers existing at the same time.
"You'll find out, soon enough."
In response to her look, Xander added, "Come on, Buffster, don't look at me like that! I can't give ya all the answers up-front, on account of the Powers won't let me. Look what'll happen if I try..."
Buffy saw Xander's lips moving, but she heard nothing but silence, thanks to the one-eyed man trying to tell her things that the Powers didn't want her to know. Xander shrugged again and then continued on, "Besides – you need to be able to do some things for yourself, in order to become someone who tells the Council what to do instead of just obeying their orders like some kinda robot. Trust me; you'll see what I mean, the older you get."
"That crucial mentos thing," Buffy nodded.
"Oh, that's only the start of it. And by the way, what the Guardian said about Will and the G-man being a crutch that you don't need? Don't believe that for a second," Xander said passionately. "On account of if there's one thing you should always remember, Buff-meister, it's that you shouldn't turn your back on friends and family. I've seen where that leads – and that Buffy Summers, who was obsessed with Spike and who was willing to sacrifice anyone she had to in order to win a war? She ended up getting a really nasty wake-up call, after THIS happened," Xander gestured towards his eyepatch.
"Spike?" Buffy said with a scared look on her face. She had never forgotten that night where he and Angelus had shown up to talk to her in her dreams, and the next moment the Chosen One had an epiphany. "Wait a minute. This is another Slayer dream, isn't it?"
The one-eyed Xander smiled again. "Give my regards to Dawn."
"Dawn? Whooooooooo..." Buffy started to say, before she blinked and then bolted upright in her bed.
"Damn it," the Slayer cursed, as she switched on the light and reached for her diary to write down the details of her dream, while they were still fresh in her mind.
Once the job was done, Buffy looked around at her old bedroom. She and Joyce were currently living with Hank Summers, after fleeing to the safety of Los Angeles; the man had insisted that his ex-wife and daughter not stay at a hotel, probably out of guilt for missing Buffy's birthday last month. The domestic arrangements were more than a bit uncomfortable, given how bitter the divorce had been – but there were people who were much worse off than the Summers family, Buffy knew that.
Giles, for one.
The Englishman had lost almost everything – his books, his home, his girlfriend and even his job.
The Council had fired him for not immediately reporting what he'd learned about the latest avatar for the element of Green Fire, even though Rupert had gotten a very generous severance package in return for compiling a comprehensive report regarding what had transpired during the last days of Sunnydale.
( Oh, phooey. I don't want another Watcher, ) Buffy decided as she switched off the light and lay down in the darkness. She stared upwards at the ceiling and thought to herself, ( I've already lost so much, I don't want to lose Giles, too. That...other Xander, he was right; I need my friends. Giles, Willow and maybe even Cordelia. Plus my mom and dad. I guess I need everyone I can get, in order to survive this gig for as long as possible. Without them, everything would be... )
Buffy finally broke down and cried, for the first time since Sunnydale went the way of the dodo. She mourned the loss of a male friend who could have become so much more, the loss of thousands of innocent people, and most of all, she mourned her own final piece of lost innocence.
Makeshift refugee camp, southern California
February 24th, 1998
The social worker named Doris hadn't slept for nearly forty-eight hours, and the strain was definitely beginning to show.
The middle-aged woman – someone whose case load would have included 'Dawn Summers' a few years down the line – had been one of the survivors of the Great Fire of Sunnydale, as the press was now calling it. Burdened with an acute sense of responsibility, she had stayed at this refugee camp instead of heading for civilization, trying to do what she could to help the children who had lived through the fiery devastation.
It wasn't easy. Nearly half the kids here had severe burns, and there simply weren't enough doctors and nurses to go around. Many were lying on the ground, moaning in pain; some were wandering around, looking for parents and loved ones. The scene was utterly heart-breaking but, even though Doris and the others didn't know it, it could have been a lot worse.
The entire planet could easily have been a black, lifeless cinder floating in space right now.
Wandering around, Doris spotted a male teenager who seemed to be walking in a complete daze. The remains of the shirt he was wearing was torn and matted with dried blood, and he was clutching something tightly in his right hand. He looked like he needed immediate help...
So, Doris went up to him and said, "Hi. What's your name?"
The boy just stared at her, so Doris continued on, "Do you need a doctor? I have some food, if you like-"
"Where am I?" the dark-haired young man cut her off.
"Not far outside the remains of Sunnydale," Doris replied. "Are you okay?"
"Okay? I don't – wait, are you telling me this isn't the afterlife?"
( Damn it, he must be even more traumatized than I thought! ) "No, sweetie, it's not. Um, have we met? You, you look kinda familiar..." Doris said, straining to remember where she'd seen his face before.
"Am I really alive?" the male teen asked, looking around at all the tents and the suffering people.
"Yes, of course-"
"But I-I wasn't. That cop – he shot me. He killed me," Xander said slowly, before he opened up his hand and looked at the broken remains of the Orbs of Nezzla'khan; which had brought him back to life.
Doris felt her eyes go wide as she immediately backed off.
She recognized Harris now; like Cordelia, she had seen his face on TV two days ago before Sunnydale had been consumed by the element of Green Fire. The social worker had temporarily forgotten about the murders that had been a big news story, well – before the utter destruction of the Hellmouth, and the deaths of countless thousands of people; but now, the memories came rushing back.
Retreating slowly, the woman then turned and raced off to get help – but when Doris returned with one of the state cops who had been sent here to maintain order within the camp, Xander was nowhere to be found.
Somewhere in the desert, southern California
Many hours later
Xander finally stopped running, after finding a small cave within a ditch he could use to spend the night in comparative safety.
Fortunately for his sanity, Xander didn't remember anything concrete after being killed by Detective Stein – someone who had failed to survive the inferno that had annihilated Sunnydale, just like Oz, Amy and Lance Brooks. There were only jagged and broken shards of vague feelings and indistinct sensations, after that hail of deadly bullets had ended Xander's life.
At the time, though – his soul had felt like it had been trapped within a fetid slime pit. Like his essence, everything that made up the person known as Alexander Lavelle Harris, had been buried underneath a sea of starving, gnawing rats. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't scream and he couldn't escape his own dead body.
Had Xander been able to remember it clearly, it would have given brand new meaning to the term 'nightmare'.
( I'm alive, ) Harris thought to himself once again, as he huddled alone in his cave. ( I was dead, but now I'm alive. How the hell is that possible? )
Xander then stared at the shattered remains of the Orbs in his hand, before flinging them away into the depths of the cave. He had no idea what they were, despite that conversation his soul had had with Cordelia on Kingman's Bluff – and now, he wanted nothing to do with the red pieces of glass any longer.
( I'm alive, ) Harris repeated the mantra once again. ( That's what's important, right? And I don't – I don't feel like a monster, like I don't have any overwhelming urge to go out and eat people's brains or something. Plus, I'm obviously not a vampire, because hello, standing in the sunlight earlier on. Huh. I wonder... )
Xander took off the remains of his shirt, and examined his right arm. And not entirely to his surprise, his Special Forces tattoo – the skull and crossbones, plus the green beret – was gone. The flesh was clean and unmarked, like the events of Halloween had never taken place.
( A second chance, ) Harris thought to himself slowly, as he put the shirt back on and left the cave to search for some firewood for later in the evening – he knew that the desert got very cold at night, and that a fire would be needed. ( I've been given a second chance at life by...someone, or something. I'm alive, and I'm still me. Only question is, what now? )
That question continued to haunt Xander throughout the night and well into the next day, as he slowly made his way south towards Los Angeles; the closest thing to 'home' his tired and damaged psyche could come up with.
UCLA campus, Los Angeles
June, 1998
Willow was in a fairly happy mood, as she made her way towards the student union building. She'd been invited to visit the campus by the university board – who had an associate within the company that had tried to recruit both Willow and Oz during Career Week – in order to woo the redhead into pursuing higher education here, in about a year's time.
( It's too bad how Buffy and her mom moved to Cleveland, and Giles went back to England, ) Willow thought to herself as she walked along. ( But there's no way my parents would have willingly moved to that part of the country. And I still can't get over how the Council was so pissed about that Green Fire thing, it went all out in getting Giles's green card revoked! Well, either that or they really didn't want him interfering with that new Watcher, Wesley whatever-his-name-was. Sheesh, I can't believe Cordelia actually started flirting with that guy before he left town... )
"Oh! Excuse me, I-I-I'm s-s-s-so s-s-sorry," a young woman with dirty-blonde hair stammered in apology, as she bumped into Willow.
The redhead shook her head, "It was my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going. Totally off into space girl, that's me! Here, lemme help you with those papers..." Willow babbled as she knelt down to gather the documents strewn all over the floor.
"Th-th-thanks," the college girl stammered, and then her eyes went wide as a spark of lightning erupted for a moment when hers and Willow's hands touched. "OH!"
"What was that?" Willow asked, taking a step backwards. She eyed the other girl carefully, "'Cause it felt like magic. A, a real special kind of magic..."
"It was," the blonde Wiccan nodded, calming down and losing the terrible stammer. "I, I haven't experienced anything like that since my mother died. Have you been practicing long?"
"No, I – wait, where are my manners? Hi, I'm Willow Rosenberg," the high school girl introduced herself.
"Tara Maclay," the older witch replied, and the rest was pre-ordained history.
Milano's Italian Kitchen, Los Angeles
August, 1998
( What the hell am I doing here? Stupid visions, I should just ignore them, ) Cordelia grumbled to herself as she ate her evening meal within the restaurant. ( I mean, sure, the food's not bad – but it's hardly what I'm used to! )
The brunette had been forced to get used to a lot of things after the destruction of Sunnydale, actually. A new home, a new life in a new city with only Harmony for company, at first; for the buxom blonde had been the lone Cordette to join her at West Beverly High School.
But then, Cordelia hadn't been the Queen of Sunnydale High for nothing and she had made nice progress in climbing to the top of West Beverly High's social pyramid. The notoriety arising from being a Sunnydale survivor had actually helped, even if her parents had decided to head for Europe and basically left her behind to fend for herself – with only the hired help for company in their new Beverly Hills mansion.
Still, on the bright side, there were shoes. And lots and lots of heavenly shoe shops for Cordelia to shop at, all the way along Rodeo Drive – which definitely helped her cope with the loneliness.
Unfortunately, the old Sunnydale weirdness refused to leave her alone, which had led the Chase girl to coming here for dinner tonight.
"Waiter! The check, please!" Cordelia ordered loudly as soon as her meal was finished. She quickly paid the bill and then marched out the front door, heading towards her car parked at the rear of the restaurant.
And that was when she heard the voice she never thought she'd hear again.
"This is great! A lot of hungry people are going to appreciate this, sir. Thank you; you're doing God's work here," Xander said to the busboy as he and some others loaded boxes of leftovers into the truck owned by one Charles Gunn, street kid and vampire fighter extraordinaire.
"Toss it up, brother. Alright!" the black teenager named Rondell said to Xander, before turning towards Gunn. "I figure, we're ready to roll-"
"XANDER?"
Everyone turned to stare at the classy, dark-haired female teen who was staring at Harris like she was seeing a ghost. The male responses ranged from admiration to sheer lust, with Xander the only one who was able to resist thinking with his dick at the mere sight of Miss Chase.
"You know this girl, dog?" Gunn asked Xander in surprise, after getting his hormones under control.
"Yeah, I do. Hey, Cordy, I wasn't expecting to see you here-" Xander started to say.
"This is impossible! You're DEAD!" Cordelia exclaimed, looking as white as a sheet.
"We got a problem here, Harris?" Gunn wanted to know, narrowing his eyes as he stared suspiciously at the newest member of his gang.
"No problem, Gunn," Xander said swiftly, as he went to grab Cordelia by the arm. "'Scuse me a second, this won't take long..." He pulled his brunette acquaintance along to somewhere private, not far away. "Look, Cordelia-"
"How can you be alive? I saw your dead body outside that temple on Kingman's Bluff six months ago! What the hell..." Cordelia said, still unable to believe what her eyes and ears were telling her.
"Kingman's Bluff? Cordelia, after I was shot in my house that night by that asshole Stein – and believe me, I was SO glad when I heard he got what was coming to him the next day! – I woke up in some refugee camp," Xander said, staring at his former classmate carefully. "I don't know anything about any temple, or whatever it is you're talking about."
"You don't?" Cordelia asked him, now beginning to suspect that he was the real deal. "So, so, you don't remember stopping that crazy demon girl either, the one that wanted to destroy the world? You don't remember-" Cordy cut herself off before saying that Xander – or rather the element of Green Fire controlling his corpse – had burned down Sunnydale and killed thousands of people.
"Crazy demon girl? No. So, uh, what happened exactly?" Xander demanded.
"Never mind that right now! What I want to know is – damn it, mister, where the hell have you been since February?" Cordelia semi-snarled, having finally become a true believer.
"Lots of different places – Culver City, Pershing Square, Olympic Boulevard. Thing is, I haven't contacted you or anyone else in the old Sunnydale gang 'cause (a), I didn't know you were in town, and (b), I've been busy looking for Ford. And that damn bitch Darla, of course, even though I figure the odds are she never made it out of Sunnydale-"
"You couldn't be bothered picking up the phone and telling ME that you'd come back from the dead?" Cordelia shouted; she couldn't believe this! She had spent six months in mourning for this guy – well, apart from some precious moments spent with a handsome, refined young Englishman – and now, it turned out that the dorkhead had been alive and kicking all along?
Cordelia's right hand slapped Xander viciously across his left cheek. "Xander Harris – of all the no-good, inconsiderate, lousy things to do! You bastard, I oughta..."
She wound up to slap him again, but this time, Xander caught her right hand in his left. Then, when Cordy went to slap him with her left hand, he caught that one with his right.
"Let go of me, you asshole!" Cordelia started struggling in Xander's grasp.
"Not until you calm down!" Harris retorted, his cheek still stinging.
"I'll show you 'calm down', you jerk!" Miss Chase tried to knee him in the groin, a strike which Xander only barely avoided.
"For God's sake, Cordelia! Why the hell are you acting like this?" Xander honestly didn't get why the seer was so upset.
"I already told you back on Valentine's Day, you moron! I LOVE YOU!" Cordelia screeched, before grabbing Xander's head and plunging her lips onto his.
Harris was initially too stunned to do anything; but as the kiss deepened, he instinctively took Cordelia into his arms as their tongues battled fiercely and passionately, struggling to win a fight in which quarter was neither asked for nor given.
It felt so right to her. So utterly perfect, even. Thus, naturally enough, that was precisely when Cordelia had another vision.
A vision of Dawn Summers calling Joyce 'mom' and Buffy 'butthole' within their new house in Cleveland. The living energy known as the Key would soon be molded into human flesh and sent to the Slayer for protection, by an order of monks in Eastern Europe. This was because, due to the ripple effect arising from Sunnydale's destruction – Glory, or the hellgod Glorificus as she was otherwise known, had been able to get free from her prison named Ben a few years earlier than it otherwise would have happened.
Cordelia didn't know it yet, but she would soon be on her way to Ohio for her senior year of high school.
So, too, would Xander, with a new name and a new academic history which Willow would set up for him.
The vampire that had once been Billy 'Ford' Fordham would eventually follow his former best friend to Cleveland, after Willow, Tara, Kendra and her Watcher, Sam Zabuto, chased Ford out of the City of Angels.
And as the kiss between Xander and Cordelia ended, the young man felt a burning sensation on his right arm as his Special Forces tattoo reappeared – thanks to the Powers That Be deciding to give him his old job back.
An avatar for the element of Green Fire had taken out some of Glory's peers roughly two thousand years ago, after all, and by now Xander's 'street cred' had been firmly established amongst those so-called higher beings.
So, as far as Whistler was concerned, as he watched Xander and Cordelia from his place in one of the higher dimensions...
...all this was merely the end – of the beginning.
The End