McGee's parents had both been into books. His father tended to read military history, naturally enough given his position in the Navy, whilst his mother tended to read absolutely anything. Nevertheless when McGee later looked back at his Jedi training he found himself remembering something that a British author called George McDonald Fraser wrote about his memories of fighting in Burma in 1944-45. He'd written that many of his memories consisted of the odd black and white images, so to speak, punctuated by the occasional strip of colour film. Well, that was exactly what he seemed to think about when he looked back at his training later.

The main memory of the first three days was pain. There had been a lot of running involved as he needed to get fit again in a hurry. It hadn't been fun. At all.

One of the earliest memories was his first real talk with Oz and Xander. Ok, the first real talk that he's been able to participate in after a two-mile run that left him panting so hard that he'd almost thrown up. The talk had, of course, been about the Force. The nature of it. How it could be used. He'd wanted to ask about how a concept from a series of science fiction films could be real, but he had the feeling that neither of the other two Jedi knew.

But what he had asked was how you could tell how someone else could use the Force – in any way. "Is… there any kind of a tell-tale sign? Sixth sense? Gut instinct?"

There was a brief but thoughtful silence from Xander. "That's remarkably specific. Do you have anyone in mind?"

"My boss. He has these… hunches. In his gut. More often than not he tends to be right about them."

"Ah," the Jedi Master replied as he leant back and then stared at the ceiling. "Well," he added after some thought, "It could be a sign of a Jedi. Then again it could be a sign of someone with The Sight, or magic as the case may be. The problem with this world is that there are so many forces, pardon the pun, at work that it might be anything. I'd have to meet the man to be more certain. Hopefully, after your training, you'll be able to tell."

"What's he like?" Oz broke in.

"Gibbs?" Now it was McGee's turn to think. "Very intense, especially on a case. Focussed is the word I think. He'll always do what's right. Especially when someone's in danger. Double that if there's a child involved."

Xander and Oz exchanged a long glance. "Interesting," the former said eventually. "Could be worth meeting with him. At the very least so that he knows what's out there in the way of help and other options."

The next clear strip of memory that he had was that of his first successful bout of Force meditation. He'd tried meditation before, back home, but it hadn't been a success. He'd fallen asleep and then woken up with a terrible crick in his neck. This time it was different. The first few times it was just to get him used to the concept – breathing out and breathing in, stilling his thoughts, concentrating on nothing but himself.

The third time he'd felt as if he had been standing on the edge of an ocean, a feeling that seemed to delight Oz when he told him afterwards. Oz was an interesting guy. He was shortish, a bit older than Xander and a man of very few words. Tony would probably hate him and feel the need to fill the air with noise to make up for Oz's comfortable silences and short but to the point conversations.

The fourth time had been… weird. He'd been meditating, he'd had the same feeling of being next to a very wide and very still ocean – and then suddenly his hand had snapped up, almost of its own volition, and caught a ball that Oz had lobbed over his head. He'd then come fully awake and stared at his hand as if it was some new and very strange creature.

Oz of course had simply smiled and nodded. "Cool," had been his one observation.

Other images followed. More pain from running. Oh and press-ups. And sit ups. And even some pull ups. He was getting fit fast, but oh the pain.

The next strip of memory was when he met the latest pair of Jedi. Daniel Jackson had boggled his mind. He'd heard about the guy from his studies. He was the man who had come up with some very sell-argued but at the same time rather outlandish theories about who had built the Pyramids. He'd then vanished off the face of the Earth, but his presence in Sunnydale had been extremely interesting – especially when he'd pulled out his green lightsabre and then had an astonishing bout of swordplay with Xander that at one point had the two literally running up walls and doing backflips.

But that had been almost nothing compared to the second Jedi. She was a dark-haired girl called Rebecca who seemed to be atoning for something, or so McGee could sense. Xander and Rebecca had… a thing. McGee wasn't sure how to define it. The two seemed to be complete in each other's presence, which was odd because it wasn't as if they were lacking in anything when they were apart. And then they had a lightsabre bout, both with blue blades, well that was a sight to see. Astonishing wasn't the word for it. They flowed, exchanging blows, parrying, moving from position to position almost too fast for him to see. Ziva would have been deeply jealous.

Oh and swordplay. That one was a pain as well. They'd started him off with a wooden practice sword, like out of Spartacus. Well, in the first few days he'd 'died' a number of times, picking up some welts that would last him a little while.

But then by the end of the first week he'd found himself starting to pick up the basics and by the start of the second week he'd been able to progress to a sword made of steel. Which had been heavier but which made him feel as if he was making progress. Right up until the moment that he'd sparred with the other Slayer, one Buffy Summers, the small blonde girl who had given him what the locals so picturesquely called 'the wiggins' on the grounds of the college during his first day in Sunnydale. Buffy had shown him that he had a very, very, long way to go.

Which was a good thing, because a day later he'd faced his first apocalypse.