Title: Emerald Ignition (1/?)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: All the cards are on the table. It's time to change the future. Part two of Emerald Flame.

Author's Note: This chapter is Tenhawk-approved.

"Xander."

"Gah!" the Green Lantern jerked back in surprise from the library computer, where Cortana's avatar appeared on the monitor. He frowned, "Um, aren't you supposed to be in Faith's ring?"

"I can't do much good in her ring," Cortana explained, a look of long-suffering patience on her face. "So I arranged for some parts to be delivered so I could assemble a proper supercomputer capable of handling my base code."

He blinked dumbly, "Oh."

"There's something you should know," she said.

Xander frowned, "What is it?"

"You and Faith are the only active Stellar Sentinels at this time," Cortana said. "But there are some whose deaths were never confirmed, and there are species with sufficient life spans to survive to this day."

"What are you saying?" he asked, not yet daring to hope.

"I'm saying there may be some of the old guard still out there. And all they'll need is a ring."

There was a long pause.

"Give me names, sectors, last known locations, time frames. Give me everything."

Cortana smiled and complied.

It wasn't looking promising. The list of Stellar Sentinels who were not confirmed dead was short, and after eliminating those who could not possibly have survived due to the limitations of their biology (translation: who must have died of old age if nothing else), there were only two names left on the list.

Xander wasn't going to investigate Andvari just yet. His species was intergalactic, and Xander wasn't ready to initiate contact with a civilization of that level yet.

So, instead, he was here, over another planet, in search of what might be a pipe dream. A Stellar Sentinel who has been inactive for the last two thousand years and was probably dead anyway.

"Well," he muttered as he began scanning the planet with his ring, "here goes."

Bro'os was not pleased. The demonic loan shark better known as "Teeth" was finding an unusual number of his "clients" (some would say "victims") were winding up dead. Dead while still trying to pay him back. It was cutting into his profits.

The fact that the one responsible had taken to removing the brains just meant that it was the same guy, and that was really pissing him off. It wouldn't be the Mayor -- serial killings would draw too much attention -- so it had to be someone else, someone who, sooner or later, was going to be gunning for him.

He was in his penthouse, giving into his rage as he tore apart the furniture. He wasn't a barbarian -- he liked to think himself above that -- but the thin veneer of civility was barely even skin deep. He snarled against as he slammed his fist into one of the broken halves of the coffee table, shattering it to splinters.

"Pathetic."

He whirled around, eyes sweeping across the room to settle on the shadow barely visible through darkened glass doors leading to the balcony. "Who said that?"

"I've been watching you, you know," the voice rasped. "I thought you and I might... share a kinship, but you're nothing but a common criminal. You're a demon trying to be human. Nothing like me."

"And just who are you?" he demanded.

"A superior predator."

The glass doors shattered.

"We don't need two Oracles," Willow declared.

Jenny raised an eyebrow, "I thought you were Wisp?" The two were heading toward the house shared by the Baxter girls and Faith for a meeting called by their new police contact.

The redhead flushed, "That was a different life, Ms. Calendar. I'm Oracle now."

"So where does that leave us?" the computer teacher asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well, how do you feel about fishnets and formal wear?"

Jenny snorted, "I'm a technopagan, not a combat witch."

"Fine. How about calling yourself Watchtower?"

"Why do I have to change? What's wrong with my current handle?"

"Wrong genre," her student answered. "And you can't be Oracle because I took that name first, and I'm the one running the Birds of Prey. Unless you'd like to take over..."

"Fair enough. Watchtower it is."

"Are you all right, Xander?" Giles asked, a note of concern in his voice. The young Green Lantern had seemed... distracted... while Patrice was filling them in about what she had found. "Xander?" he prodded.

"Hmm?" the teenager looked up, as if noticing the Watcher for the first time. "Yeah... yeah, Giles, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Giles frowned. "You seem a little... distracted."

Xander shook his head, "Just thinking. Nothing important." He glanced at Patrice, then looked back at Giles, "I know zombies don't eat brains. Yet we had zombies earlier. And now we have people whose brains were eaten. Theories?"

"I'm afraid I can only conclude the events are unrelated," the Watcher said. "Ovu Mobani isn't interested in consuming brain matter, and we disposed of it before the zombie situation could get out of hand to begin with."

"That's my conclusion too," Xander nodded, "especially since this didn't happen last time around."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Bad," Xander answered without hesitation. "It means either my future memories can't be trusted at all, or I've somehow changed something to bring some sort of brain-eating monster to town. And I just can't see how the latter could have happened."

"Perhaps you've just forgotten?" Giles offered.

"Unlikely," Xander shook his head. "It was a pretty memorable night, and-"

"Reclaimer."

Xander blinked as Cortana's face appeared on the computer in the corner of the room.

"We have a situation," the ancient AI said. "I have General Lethbridge-Stewart on the line."

Giles's eyes went round, staring at the AI's avatar, "General Lethbridge-Stewart? General Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart? The Brig?!" His head whipped around to glare at Xander, "Would you mind explaining why one of Britain's most decorated officers would be calling you?"

"Somehow, I doubt it's a social call, G-man. Excuse me." Xander picked up the nearby phone. "All right, Cortana, patch him through."

"Patching him through now."

"General, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I've got a Yank with a serious problem."

"According to certain Brits, all Yanks have serious problems. Care to be more specific?"

"You remember that team you ran into on the ship? And the particular species they were dealing with?"

Xander stiffened, "You have my attention."

So, what do you think? Xander thought as he flew across the Atlantic.

I do not like this, Alexander, came the reply. She is likely to detect my presence.

He snorted, Yeah, well, it's not like I can just leave you behind. Besides, I have the most powerful weapon in the universe on my side. He paused, then added, And I told you, E, the name's Xander.

Do not get cocky, Alexander, she warned him, not even dignifying his last comment with a response. You know as well as I that even the most powerful tools have their limits.

Yeah, yeah, he replied, mentally tuning her out as she began to lecture.

Alexander! the voice in his head suddenly snapped in exasperation. Are you even listening to me?!

"He left?!" Buffy's jaw hung open. "We've got some... brain-eating monster he didn't think to warn us about, and he left?"

"Buffy," Giles said patiently, "I'm given to understand it was an emergency. Considering just who was calling him, I'm unsurprised he decided it took precedent."

"I don't care if the President called him, Giles," Buffy snapped. "We need him here. He's Green Lantern!"

"Hey!" Faith snapped, a little irritated at the Slayer's attitude. "What am I, B? Chopped liver? In case you've forgotten, I'm a Green Lantern too, and besides, if X didn't know about this, how much is he gonna do?"

"Th-they're right, Buffy," Willow said hesitantly. "This is Xander. You know him. He wouldn't leave us unless it was an emergency."

Xander stared incredulously at the video feed.

It appears, Alexander, that your fellow Tauri still have much to learn, the voice in his head commented dryly.

No shit, E, Xander snorted. He looked over at the Brig and SG-1 (minus one), "So, you found out she's snaked, and you locked her up."

"Well, yeah," Jack replied, a little bewildered at the look on his face.

"In a cell," Xander clarified.

"Uh huh," Jack nodded slowly.

"With bars."

"Yeah..."

"Bars that are easily far enough apart for a symbiote to slip through."

Jack paused at that, looked at the video feed, then shook his head, "You know, we're usually not this stupid. I swear."

The Brig was already snapping out orders.

Xander ignored the general and turned to the rest of SG-1, "So, what's it been doing so far?"

"The symbiote claims to be Tok'ra, StellarSentinel," Teal'c answered.

"The Tok'ra are supposed to be a rebel splinter faction of goa'uld," Daniel interjected. "Supposedly, they broke away from the System Lords for moral reasons."

"Oh, the Tok'ra are very real, Doctor Jackson," Xander assured the archaeologist. "Or at least, they were. Whether they still survive to this day or not, I don't know."

"And just how do you know that?" Jack asked suspiciously. The question was echoed in the curious expression on Daniel's face.

Xander held up his right hand, displaying his power ring, "My info's a little dated, though. There hasn't been an active Stellar Sentinel in some two thousand years."

Alexander, if she truly is Tok'ra...

I know, E, he nodded. I know. He looked back at the video feed, "I'll need to talk to her."

"'Talk'?" Jack cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, what exactly did you expect me to do?" Xander asked, rolling his eyes at the colonel. "I'm a Green Lantern, not a surgeon."

"Are you saying you can't get it out of her?"

"I'm saying, Colonel, that trying to do so forcibly isn't an optimal solution," Xander countered acidly. "If I try to pull the snake out and it fights me, it'll release a toxin into Captain Carter's blood stream. I figure I've got a twenty -- maybe thirty -- percent chance of containing the toxin before lethal levels enter her system, less than ten percent to keep her from being crippled permanently in some fashion."

"I already lost one teammate to getting snaked," Jack spat. "I won't lose another."

"Then you'll let me talk to her."

"The bounty?"

"A quarter million American."

"The target?" the broker's eyes glittered in anticipation.

"Janna Kalderash," the prospective client placed a photograph on the table. "Otherwise known as Jenny Calendar."

"My, my," the broker commented. "One of your own?"

"She failed the clan and then betrayed us by refusing to return to us as ordered."

"I see. Location?"

"Sunnydale, California."

The broker's expression soured, and he said regretfully, "I am afraid we cannot accept."

"Half a million?"

"You misunderstand," the broker said. "This isn't about money. We have an... agreement with certain elements on the hellmouth. We will not match our rings to his."

"I thought the Order of Taraka always completed their contracts."

"We do, unless the client cancels or is unable to pay," the Tarakan broker answered. "But that doesn't mean we're stupid enough to accept every contract sent our way. I suggest you stay clear of the hellmouth." He rose to his feet. "I believe our business is done, Mister Kalderash."

Author's Postscript:

As I said earlier, this chapter is Tenhawk-approved. But he did have some issues with the jump cuts and thought the scenes were too disconnected. *shrug* Oh, well.