Chapter 10.

Swords break.

They chip and they bend and eventually, despite the best care you can give them, every sword will sooner or later break when used as it's supposed to be.

Methos knew exactly what it took to make a good sword. Good steel and a good design. In 1886, Andrew Carnegie revolutionized the steel making process. Pumping out tons of high quality steel at prices that no others could match. So when Methos' sword met its end around that time, the old man actually re-made his own sword from steel bar-stock from Caregie's steel mill and the hilt from his old sword. Don't let anyone fool you. Those people that go on and on about how their sword was folded 1,000 times... that was because the steel for their sword was of poor quality and it needed to be folded like that simply to create a consistent hardness in the steel. However, at the time Methos made his sword, there weren't any sword smiths making the type of sword he wanted, so he made his own.

Probably too heavy and over made for a steel sword but it had felt good in hands that had originally wielded bronze swords. He hadn't set out to make an Ivanhoe blade, he'd simply made the best sword he could and when it was done, people said it was an Ivanhoe.

Xander had already decided that wasn't going to happen this time. The art of sword making had been rediscovered and he could get a decent sword for a reasonable price. That price ended up being a little under $2,000 for everything. Including sharpening, shipping, and a scabbard. Which, compared to the time it had taken Methos to make his sword, was money well spent in Xander's opinion.

If you want to picture his sword, it was an Oakeshott type XVIII, if that means anything to you. A one-handed sword, it was fairly straight until the last third where it tapered to a wickedly sharp point. Perfect for a cut and thrust style of swordsmanship. Pretty much the stereotypical knight's sword. But there was a reason it became stereotypical. It was a good design. And it worked well with Methos' style of swordplay which emphasized quickness over raw power.

The other bonus of the sword was that from now on, he wouldn't have to return Giles' sword to him, which was good, because he wasn't sure how he would do that without seeing Willow.

The steel used to make the sword was also superior to what had been available at the turn of the century. High carbon content made the steel extremely tough, and – a surprise to Xander – the steel actually contained a tiny bit of silicon and chrome impurities to give it more of a 'spring' than normal high carbon steel would have while still giving it a toughness that hadn't been possible even a hundred years ago without causing the steel to become brittle. The chrome also made it more resistant to rust.

The next day, Xander started his new job at Joyce's art gallery. Pottery from Pluto. "That's an... interesting name for your shop." he said as he entered. He hadn't noticed it before.

"I know. I wish I could think of something better." Joyce frowned. "I mostly specialize in pottery and sculpture over paintings and I wanted a name that would emphasize that. And I just couldn't get the name out of my head."

"You know who Pluto is, right?" Xander made sure.

"Of course. Pluto, also known as Hades, ruler of the underworld in Greek mythology. Also the god of mines and wealth. I'm surprised you know who he is. I'm sure Buffy doesn't have a clue. Neither do most people who stop by. Most people are looking for space junk."

Xander chuckled weakly. "That's not a bad idea."

"What? Space junk? Ugh. Too tacky." Joyce shook her head and waved off the idea.

"Oh well." Xander said, but he didn't really care. The suggestion had only been to redirect Joyce's attention from his worry over the name of her shop. She'd named her shop, which was situated on the Hellmouth, after the Greek god of the Underworld. And nobody noticed. After 5,000 years, Methos was always skeptical of coincidences. Okay, he was skeptical of everything. But now Xander was on alert. He dismissed it to the back of his mind for now though. Nothing had happened in the year that Joyce had owned the shop, nothing was likely to happen until he could do some research.

And for now, there was paperwork to do. Hiring a minor was always a tricky affair. There were strict limits on how long he could work in a day, in a week, and without a clocked-out break. And those rules wouldn't abate once he was emancipated. He filled out all the paperwork required to be hired and then set to work. His first job was sweeping out the store. Not the most glamorous job for the man who had memories that predated all the art in the shop, but you had to start somewhere.

"Hello, Xander."

"Hello, Buffy."

"That was a really shitty thing you did to Willow. You could have let her down easier." Buffy said coldly as she stood in front of him in the cemetery.

She also swore.

Xander couldn't remember ever hearing her swear before, which told him exactly how angry she was at him. He consciously stopped himself from reaching for his sword. He swallowed instead. "I really couldn't. I took all that Methos knew about human psychology and everything that Xander knew about Willow and the answer was that I had to be ruthless in order to get through to her. I knew it was going to hurt her, but I promise it will be better for her in the end."

"Who are you?" Buffy asked. He'd just referred to himself in the third person with two different names. "The Xander I knew couldn't do what he did to her. Are you Xander or Methos?"

"Yes." was the somewhat pithy reply.

Buffy growled and her hand twitched near a stake.

Xander took a step backwards and started mentally going over the locations of all the nearby mausoleums he could hide behind. "It's the honest answer." he defended, speaking quickly and holding up his empty hands for peace. "Having 5,000 years of memories changed me. But I'm not Methos either. For starters, if you hit me like I think you're about to, I'll probably die. And it's unlikely that I'll come back to life." Xander's comments were rewarded with him seeing the Slayer take a deep breath and slowly let it back out, draining away some, but not all of the tension in her body.

"What am I supposed to say?" Buffy complained.

"To me? Nothing. There's nothing to say. As of right now, I don't expect Willow to talk to me again anytime before college. She's going to need you now more than ever. And it would be great if she made some new friends. But what she needs most right now is to find herself."

"And how should she do that?" Buffy wondered.

"Well, step one would be to figure out some goals in life that aren't Xander-oriented and start working towards them." Xander said. "Other than that, I'm sure there's some self-help books out there. Giles can probably help you find one, being a librarian and all."

Buffy thought about that for a second, started to say something then stopped and turned away. "Xander-" she turned back.

"Thank you for being there for her." Xander interrupted whatever she had to say. "I do love her, even if it doesn't look like it right now."

Buffy swallowed and nodded before turning away.

Xander sighed and continued on with his own patrol.

Xander's first patrol with his new sword went well. Other than meeting Buffy, he also met up with three vampires – one at a time – and dusted each of them. One had laughed at his sword. Not for very long though. Methos' style (and thus Xander's style) emphasized speedy thrusts to wear an opponent down before moving in for the coup de grâce – beheadings worked equally well on vampires as they did on Immortals. And – as an added bonus – no Quickenings! A fact which Xander was eminently grateful. Methos' memories made one thing clear. Quickenings hurt! But the choice between them and death really was no choice at all.

After dusting those three he narrowly escaped the clutches of a pack of five vampires. His daily running practice paid dividends by saving his life. He was not ready to face five vamps and he knew it. Know thyself and know thy enemy and you will never lose. And since he was still alive, he certainly hadn't lost. It was time to head for his apartment and call it a night. Live. Grow stronger. Fight another day.

A/N: You'll have to read the story on TTH to see the photo of the sword. Sorry.

A/N2: I didn't really intend for this to be an Emancipation Fic, but I've read a lot of comments in other stories about how Xander 'should just move out of his parent's house'. It's not that simple. It's really freaking difficult to become emancipated. You have to have some money saved up as well as a regular job that pays enough for you to make rent and feed yourself while still going to school full time. Then you have to apply for emancipation with the courts and hope that the judge grants it to you and that your parents don't take offense and don't try to block it. Because they are unlikely to be happy with you if your bid for freedom fails.