Working with Turkeys

Willow always made lists of pros and cons when she had a difficult decision to make. She said seeing it all laid out really helped you see past your own bias… or possibly emphasize it. There were conflicting studies according to her.

So Xander pulled out a sheet of lined paper and began listing pros and cons, only to find himself listing quite a few cons as various incidents sprang to mind. He had the con half of the paper completely filled with only a few pros listed before he stopped himself. He knew this really didn't show things in a fair light. He knew the good times tended to fly by, while the bad ones stuck in the memory, but as he looked down at the list he found himself asking, 'What kind of friend makes lists of all the times his friends have wronged him?'

'Probably a pretty shitty one,' he decided. But then, what kind of friends fuck over their friend often enough for a list to be needed?

They were probably right to kick him out of the group, he thought to himself. The last couple of years had driven enough wedges between them that the divide created seemed like the Grand Canyon. They used to all be friends, close friends, but they had changed just as he had. Did he really know them anymore? They'd all done things he hadn't thought they would ever do. Maybe he'd clung to the image of who they used to be, hell who he used to be with them. No, he really didn't know them anymore, they were just familiar looking strangers. Maybe he was as well. He'd certainly done things he'd never expected of himself over the past year. He hadn't lived down to anyone's expectations, but he hadn't lived up to his own either.

He considered their decision to expel him from the group.

He made a new list, writing down what he contributed to the fight and how much effort he put into it and frowned. Reading it, he grimaced and tore it up, making sure to make paper confetti out of it. He didn't feel suicidal, but apparently he wasn't as against it as he'd liked to think, because that last list might as well have read 'cause of death'.

'OK, new plan,' he decided. 'Steps one and two in whatever order: gain skills, learn who I am, and hopefully improve that at least to the point where I'm not trying to subconsciously kill myself.'

Mind made up, he dug through his change jar for the small wad of cash buried in pennies he kept on hand for emergencies. He knew Willow probably had the books he needed or could direct him to them, but she'd made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him, and she didn't owe him anything, so he'd just have to do the research for himself. Since Giles ran the Sunnydale High School library and he was still banned from the public library for another three months, he'd have to buy what he needed, which meant Goodwill to start with and yard sales and auctions to follow.

A fragment of memory floated across the surface of his awareness, about Sun Tzu in the service and finding it overrated and boring... but that various bits of it made sense... in hindsight. Know yourself and your enemy and you need not fear the outcome of a thousand battles, for instance was useful and almost correct, because if the enemy had enough force to overwhelm you and used it... knowledge was a force multiplier by an order of magnitude, but it wasn't a cure-all.

Xander rubbed his temples. It didn't help. His head still felt a bit off and his surroundings seemed strange for a moment, like he'd never been here before. It eventually passed, like it always did, even if he tried to grasp it tightly and fix the knowledge in his mind.

Sighing, he grabbed his jacket and the keys to his uncle's car. He really should have looked into doing this long ago.

*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*

"Hey, Xander," the older lady behind the counter said cheerfully. "Come to clean out our supply of Hawaiian shirts? We got a handful with wooden and coral buttons, like you asked me to watch for."

"Really?" he asked hopefully, before remembering why he was there. "Sadly, I am here for books this time. Maybe if I have any money left over."

"Quarter a book, paperback; a dollar, hardback," she quoted. "Rear of the store, to the right. The books in the cardboard box haven't been sorted yet, so don't worry about mixing them up."

"Thanks, Mrs. Wilson," he replied, a corner of his mind hoping he had some money left so he could snag some shirts. Real Hawaiian shirts were expensive and hard to find, unlike the ones he wore for slaying, which he used because demon blood often improved the pattern and the bright colors made the demons focus on him.

He let his eyes wander as he walked through the store, feeling like he was in a time machine as the aisles were filled with clothes, furniture, and appliances that were from decades past. All they'd have to do was move the store to LA and change the name to retro-something-or-other and they could add another two digits to the price tags easily.

Reaching the back, he took in the battered shelves filled with endless rows of women's romance novels and self-help books from the eighties. Thankfully, the staff actually took their job seriously and didn't just place them according to size and shape.

A blond kid he vaguely recognized from school left with a large leather tome that he just glimpsed part of the title: "-Hounds for Fun and Profit or Conquest". Scanning the area the kid had been browsing, he saw books that looked like they should be on Giles' shelves, most in languages he wasn't familiar with. At a dollar a hardback, he made a mental note to tap into his savings and clean them out, but for now he only needed books he could use. Spotting a red leather tome titled "So you want to be a Dark Wizard", he quickly snatched it up, along with several other titles he didn't think were safe for others to buy. A careful once-over showed nothing else that would allow the common high school student to cause massive amounts of damage, so he resumed his search for his own books.

The number of self-help books that claimed not only to be able to help, but had been written specifically to solve his problems, was… nearly all of them. Only a couple sounded even halfway useful, so he continued searching in other areas. It took over an hour for him to search through everything, including the unsorted box. He had both arms full as he went to the front counter.

"All seven of 'Chained Passions: the Captive Maiden' series?" she asked with a grin while ringing him up.

"I like pirate novels," he admitted, embarrassed.

Half an hour later, he'd returned to buy out all their questionable novels, and the stock of Hawaiian shirts she'd set aside for him.

*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*

Xander placed the stack of dangerous books on his nightstand, the unidentified ones on his desk, the ones he planned on using on top of his dresser... and the romance-er, pirate novels under his bed.

The self-help books were no help, he quickly decided. They appeared to be all about how to massage your own ego. Turning to the mirror, he put on a huge fake smile. "I'm going to do great today, because I'm a good person, I'm talented, and gosh darn it, people like me!" Xander was surprised to find he actually did feel a bit better and set the book aside. It was good for a laugh if nothing else.

As he picked up the psychology textbook from the local college, his eyes drifted over to a large leather bound tome. 'Magic and me don't mix,' he tried to tell himself. 'Name one spell you personally cast,' his mind whispered back.

"OK, you have a point there," he admitted aloud, setting down the textbook and picking up the book titled 'True Name, True Heart, True Self; A Guide for the Noble Pursuit of Unity'. Opening it, a sheet of paper fell out and he started reading it aloud. He quickly stopped, not wanting to risk accidentally casting something, but as his eyes scanned to the end of it, the paper crumpled into white ash and blew away, followed by him, and the world...

*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*

Xander looked around and started cleaning his room, making his bed, and picking up the clothes scattered across the floor. He found an invisible scythe that he wrapped in a sheet so he wouldn't lose track of it, or injure himself or someone else. He'd wondered where that had gone.

While cleaning the mirror and removing the pictures of past friends, he frowned as he saw how long his hair had grown. Dropping the photos in the top drawer, he thought about going to the base barber, but realized he'd have to make due with off-base facilities and a civilian barber.

On the way to the barber he spotted Faith fighting a pair of blue demons, but mindful of what he'd been told he drove on, careful not to distract her. He spotted Jack O'Toole and a couple of his friends riding around, which wouldn't have been anything of note except Xander recalled reading about their deaths, by gunfire rather than barbeque fork, making it stick in his mind. He decided that at least deserved a mention on his way back home, after he got his hair cut.

*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*

The next morning.

At five A.M. he got up, showered, got dressed, and went for a jog. He wasn't as out of shape as he feared, but an adventurous vamp preying on joggers added a whole new level of difficulty. Thankfully, Xander was able to yank him into the light of the rising sun.

It was a somber group he found in the partially destroyed library that morning when he arrived.

"... the corner of Fifth and Oak," Giles said.

"In front of the old Smith Theater?" Xander asked. "Saw Faith fighting a couple of demons there last night."

"You did?" Buffy asked, pale.

"Yeah, but don't worry, I remembered your orders and didn't interfere or distract her. I simply drove on," Xander assured Buffy. "Anyway, the reason I'm here is because I decided to try to warn you one last time about O'Toole and his gang, who I'm pretty sure are dead, wandering around."

"O'Toole?" Willow asked, white as a sheet.

"Yeah, I tried warning you, Summers, and Giles yesterday, but you all three refused to listen," Xander explained. "This is the last time I'm going to waste my time trying to warn you of things just to be brushed off. Next time, I'm just going to write a note and drop it at the counter, if I bother at all. Goodbye."

As the door closed behind him, Willow burst into tears and Buffy tried to comfort her.

"As I was saying," Giles said quietly, pausing to take a pain killer to help deal with his wounds from that night's battle, "Faith's body was found with all its blood and none in her mouth, so we don't have to worry about her becoming a vampire."

"At least there's that," Wesley said sadly. "The fight in the basement that claimed Mr. Osborn's life left a half dozen zombies in pieces, but still animated. I laid them to rest with a little salt and blood. They appeared to be setting up a crude bomb when Mr. Osborn interrupted them, so that still needs to be dealt with. I'd stay and help, however the Council has already sent me a recall notice. I am to pack and leave immediately for my inquiry."

"Inquiry?" Cordelia asked.

"Any watcher who loses a slayer in under six months has to face a board of inquiry," Giles explained. "As this is the Hellmouth, it'll likely be a mere formality, but attempts to avoid or delay it are considered evidence of guilt or complacency in the slayer's death and dealt with appropriately."

"It was... nice, I suppose, meeting you all," Weasley offered before getting up and limping off.

*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*

Xander re-checked his homework and did his best to wade through the psychology textbook. It was slow going, as there were frequent references to things the book seemed to assume he knew about which he had no clue. This led to a lot of back-and-forth with the index, as he blessed the writers who had decided to include past review sections he could reference.

The teachers watched the new, studious Harris boy with a bit of nervousness. Change on the Hellmouth was rarely good.

Deep inside Xander, a large chunk of him slept, and as he slept, connections were made...

Typing by: Ordieth

AN: Just an idea of how things could have turned out without Xander taking care of the zombies or the world ending.