"The Lost Reasons to Live" by Shadow Master

(BtVS/Rambo/John Wick Trilogy/Expendables Trilogy/Others)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein. They are the rightful property of their respective creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this in the future. I write because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my stories. Therefore it'd be appreciated if no legal action was sent my way. I doubt that I have enough money to make it worth it in the end.

Note : Got the idea for this after watching 'Rambo: Last Blood' and while it wasn't something worthy of a nomination for an Oscar it did contain all the elements that make a Rambo movie cool. Don't know how far it'll go or if it'll ever be finished. If you have a suggestions submit them in your reviews and if they're good enough I'll incorporate it into the plot. No guarantees though.

Note 2: The main feel I'm trying to imbue this story with is 'you never want to push a man who has nothing left to lose too far. You won't like how things turn out.' Any suggestions given will be considered and if good enough will be incorporated into the story.


This is part of the 'Rough Cut Diamonds' series of stories. I have made this series with the intent of updating them as regularly as possible factoring in RL(Real Life) and work on those other stories already in progress. In order to post new chapters as swiftly as possible I will be putting them online with only my word processor's own spelling and grammar checking function to ensure quality. Expect there to be a few mistakes but this is the cost of posting them ASAP instead of sending them to a beta reader to be polished to perfection.


The Lost Reasons to Live

Maxwell Cemetery

Sunnydale, California

February 15th, 2010

Xander's POV

"Hey guys. I know it's been awhile." He said emotionlessly as he looked down at the final resting places of those who had formed the core of his world when they'd been alive, "The promise I made the last time I was here took longer than I thought it would to keep."

That was something of an understatement but true for the most part.

For the last ten years he had devoted every spare moment he had towards fulfilling his promise to the exclusion of all else. Along the way there had been those who had tried to persuade him that the promise he'd made was unrealistic or that the people in the graves before him would not want him to walk a path fraught with such hardship. However never once had he wavered in his actions even if it cost him something valuable like an ally along the way. He didn't let them die or anything but rather when they delivered the ultimatum that if he didn't stop their relationship was over he had never hesitated to let such ties go. In his mind there'd be time enough for such relationships after he'd fulfilled his promise to the people who'd been most precious to him when they'd been alive.

"Back then…I was weak. I didn't want to admit it because it'd mean that everything Tony had said about me was true. I tried to hide from it by telling myself that I was a sidekick but the truth was I didn't do much of anything to change myself." He said remembering those better days, "Over three years of fighting demons, vampires and mages. You'd think after the first six months of that I'd have wised up and done something to better myself."

But he hadn't.

Whether it was because Tony's bashing had chained him down too well or because he'd been willing to just let the others do all the work the end result was the same. Looking back he knew there were many options for getting better ranging from training his body in one of the local gyms to asking Giles for instruction in the use of an effective weapon. But his poor self-image thanks to Tony and his past of apathy towards his future proved to be enough to keep him from exploring those options.

As a result when the Scoobies needed him the most he'd been reduced to dead weight and had only survived due to the actions of one Riley Finn.

Not that it'd done cornbread much good in the end.

"It's taken everything I had and more than a few times it was only my 'luck' that kept me alive but I'm finally ready." He said bringing up a hand before clenching it into a fist, "Ready to give all of you the justice you deserve and deliver vengeance enough to wipe those bastards off the face of the Earth."

As his thoughts drifted towards the people responsible for those precious to him dying before they should've rage began to bubble up from the depths of his soul before he forced it back down. Every teacher he'd had since he'd originally left Sunnydale had taught him the same lesson: emotions had no place on the battlefield. They clouded your judgment, made you reckless and caused you to burn through your energy quicker than if you'd kept a cool head. If he was going to fulfill his promise he needed to be as cold and as sharp as the combat knife he kept sheathed beneath his jacket. He'd need to think things through and plan because unlike the countless action movies he'd seen there was no script guaranteeing him victory.

Defeat was NOT an option.

During his training and travels he'd learned that he was not the only one to be put through hell and the more information he gained the more he was certain that the ones he was after could not be allowed to continue with their agenda. Lives were nothing to them. Just more kindling for the fire, more meat for the grinder, rather than real human beings with lives just as precious as anyone else's. More than that he'd seen enough to suspect that the incidents he'd witnessed were just the prelude to the real show and when it started he doubted that anyone would be laughing.

Hearing footsteps approaching him behind he focused his senses in case it was a threat but relaxed when all the input was tallied. The walking pattern, the clinking of metal against metal and everything else told him all he needed to know.

"Sarah." He said without looking back at her.

"I just got word from Anna." Sarah said coming to a stop a few feet behind him, "Otacon and Benji finally cracked the encryption on the files."

Good.

Those files had been their bit of divine intervention, a gift from gods he knew existed but never really cared for, but it was also time sensitive. The enemy knew they had the files and would try to break the encryption so it was logical to assume that efforts would be made to minimize the potential damage the info leak could do. This could be accomplished either by fortifying locations mentioned in the files or relocating valuable assets so that when the team arrived there'd be nothing but empty rooms to search through. What made them valuable though was that if they could move quickly enough and strategically enough they could finally gain the evidence they needed to wake up the rest of the world.

The greatest advantage the enemy had was that only the elite of the intelligence agencies around the world had any clue they existed and even then it was theory rather than hard facts.

If they could neutralize that then the enemy's ability to operate would be drastically reduced and the amount of resources directed towards the objective of their capture would increase substantially. It wouldn't be a cake walk to take them down though because for every five people wanting to take them down there'd be at least one who'd ask the question 'how can I make this work for me' in their heads. Those would be the ones that the enemy would try to bring around to their side of things and make them believe that the old status quo was best for everyone in the world. That or a very beneficial offer would be made promising them either money or assistance in advancing their careers.

Add to that the fact that they seemed to have some pretty fancy toys at their disposal and it'd be a fight every step of the way.

"Tell Gunner to spin up the plane." He said as he prepared to get moving, "I'll be with you in a minute."

Sarah nodded before turning around and making her way back to the car.

Hard to believe that when he'd first met her she was fresh from high school and on her way to Central University in Evanston. Too bad things had to change thanks to him. He hadn't planned it and a part of him regretted that he'd wound up drawing her down the same road as him but at the same time he believed it was for the best. Sam was involved in some serious work against serious enemies that were tied to the ones he wanted dead. While some might be willing to keep their actions limited to Sam others would likely choose to play dirty in an effort to win before the fight had even started. They'd either kidnap or kill Sarah in order to gain a sizeable advantage over the man and if she remained a civilian she'd be helpless.

As she was now he pitied the fool that thought she was some sort of easy mark.

"Gotta go now guys. Got work to do." He said taking a package wrapped in paper out from the pocket in his coat, "I'll be back on the anniversary. Promise."

With those words he took a single rose out of the package before gently placing it atop the first grave.

R.I.P

ELIZABETH ANNE SUMMERS

HONORED FRIEND

BELOVED DAUGHTER

CHERISHED SISTER

JANUARY 19TH, 1981 – FEBRUARY 12TH, 2000

One by one he deposited a rose on each grave and on those graves were the names of others who would always hold a special place in his heart.

WILLOW ROSENBERG

RUPERT GILES

JOYCE SUMMERS

DAWN SUMMERS

TARA MACLAY

DANIEL OSBORNE

All of them were heroes in his mind.

All of them had tried to do something to help improve the situation in Sunnydale even though it was dangerous but that didn't matter.

Not to Walsh.

Not to her monstrous creation.

And certainly not to the people behind closed doors who were behind the Initiative.

It mattered to him though.

Even ten years later he still remembered the pain he'd felt upon waking up in the hospital and the agony he'd felt upon learning what had happened to the others was something that'd never go away.

NEVER!


May 19th, 2000

Outside of the Harris House

Xander's POV

What made me ever think that I wasn't an amateur anymore? He thought looking one last time at the room he'd slept in all his life.

When he'd first found out about the true world he'd been afraid but the death of his brother Jesse that fear had turned to anger and then to fury. From that point on he'd been determined to do all he could to help Buffy fight to keep Sunnydale safe even if he had nothing to offer besides his resolve. It had been hard for him and it had been painful but even at its worst his loyalty to Buffy had never wavered even once.

When Halloween came he'd decided to dress up as something he actually had a decent chance of becoming if he wanted to even if it'd be a long ways off.

A Spec Ops agent the likes of which governments sent on missions that didn't officially exist but at the same time had a dramatic effect on the world at large albeit without the public knowing about it. Such men were highly trained operatives capable of covertly infiltrating strongholds, hacking databases and when necessary sniping high value targets. To him this was the sort of person that would be valuable in the fight against the demons, vampires and forces of darkness.

Imagine his surprise when out of nowhere a magic spell was cast and for a few hours he became a top operative for the International Presidential Consulting Agency. It was a US-based international anti-terrorist organization that dealt with various national security issues including foreign intelligence, data collections, hostage rescue and other black operations relating to safeguarding the nation. For that night he was a man who regularly faced daunting odds but succeeded just the same.

And then with the actions of G-Man the spell ended turning him back into plain old Xander Harris…or so he had thought.

In the days and weeks that had followed Halloween he discovered that while not anywhere near as tangible as his own memories bits and pieces of Gabe still remained in his mind. He'd kept this info to himself for the most part since he wanted to figure out just how much he'd retained before letting the rest of the Scoobies in on his little secret. The guy who ran the army surplus store was helpful with this especially when he volunteered to clean the guns in his inventory for free. With every gun he'd worked on he'd searched his mind for info on it and even tested himself to see if he could disassemble them then reassemble them with any acceptable amount of speed.

He was a bit hit or miss on both efforts but definitely above what a simple American teenager should've known.

Confirming this he'd made it his mission to fully embrace this new knowledge and began to use what little free time he had between school and slaying to make it his own. This not only meant physical training but also using a cheap journal book to copy every scrap of knowledge Gabe had left in his head to paper so that it wouldn't be forgotten. Everything, from the tedious to the world endingly important, was transcribed and he'd even gone so far as to ask Giles if he knew of any simple magic tricks that could help with recollection. Granted the Watcher had been a bit curious as to the motive behind his request but he'd just said he needed a bit more help with studying and that'd been enough. Of course the stuffy Brit had said that traditional methods of studying should be sufficient but apparently the magical parlour tricks were harmless enough that there was no reason not to provide them.

Weeks passed by and little by little he'd found himself slowly climbing the ladder out of the hole in the ground that was the label 'son of the town drunk'. He'd even been able to play a crucial role in the defeat of The Judge through his 'borrowing' of a M72 LAW rocket launcher from the local army base. It was too bad that circumstances hadn't permitted him too many other opportunities in the time that followed to bring what he'd gained to bear on the enemies of the Scoobies but he'd taken pride in those few moments just the same.

It had been the confidence he'd gained from those moments that'd led him to believe that he'd have another time to shine when the gang discovered the existence of the Initiative. An apparently government backed black project dedicated to the capture and study of demons had been a bit of a surprise even though it really shouldn't have been. As soon as enough people in power were convinced that such things existed then it was only natural for them to take action. The only problem he had with the entire affair was the capture and study part. He would've been overjoyed if Uncle Sam had decided to station some troops on the Hellmouth since it'd take some of the pressure off the Scooby gang and ensure that they had backup should they need it. However when Buffy had told them that the head of the Initiative Maggie Walsh was basically ignoring everything in Giles' books in favour of letting scientific research and dissection fill in the blanks they'd all begun to worry.

All of them knew that while science was not completely useless against the supernatural the two aspects of reality operated on decidedly different laws.

So different that the potential for the Initiative to spark a catastrophe by accident due to their intentional ignorance was not as far fetched as some might think.

As a result the Scoobies had done what they could to monitor the actions of the government project as best they could but sadly two things became crystal clear. The soldiers that were assigned to the Initiative were decent people and the leadership of the Initiative had an agenda only they along with their superiors were aware of. Such was the flaw of most soldiers: they blindly followed the orders of their superior officers and did not dig any deeper. He understood that in the military orders needed to be followed without question in most cases and some answers could not be given for the sake of security it still struck him as somewhat foolish. While it was true that those above you had superior experience, intelligence and access to various resources they were still human in the end. Due to this immutable fact those superiors could make mistakes or become corrupt.

Better to see them as they truly were and be ready to oppose them if necessary than to simply march along like a troop of Lemmings.

When he thought of the people in charge he felt that there was simply something off with the official line they handed out to their troops and later on. Why would they ignore the books, scrolls and oral facts concerning their enemy so fervently? It was one thing if Maggie Walsh was just a staunch devotee to science that she refused to partake of the same resources as Giles but for both her co-workers as well as her superiors to do the same just didn't make sense. While he and Willow might've scoffed at the idea of magic or demons before meeting Buffy they'd seen enough examples of both to know they existed. When added to the fact that the info in G-Man's books proved to be accurate more often then not and he knew he'd put his faith in the written word more than the fumbling of modern science.

Surely others involved with the Initiative above Walsh had come to similar conclusions, right?

If so then why were the proven facts being ignored?

It hadn't been until later that they'd hit a lucky break in that Buffy had been given a chance to work with the Initiative and gain access to their facility. Up until then they'd been limited to following their capture teams around or getting what they could from Finn but getting access to the facility had been a boon indeed.

Too bad Buffy wasn't exactly the most discrete when it came to digging for facts or asking questions.

While her time amongst the Initiative had not been completely useless her less than gentle questioning of Walsh and a few other people had led to the director arranging an 'accident' for her involving two strong demons and a 'malfunctioning' tazer rifle. When Buffy had not only survived but managed to kill both demons they'd all known that further info fishing would have to be done from the position of enemy rather than possible ally. It had been Giles' belief that while Walsh would give orders to prevent them entry into the compound AND place them under surveillance to prevent potential problems the American government wouldn't allow things to go any further. In his words the United States of America and the Watcher's Council had been allies since the country's founding and the latter had the backing of the British government. With all that no sane member of the American military or political body would risk taking more aggressive actions.

Even today he couldn't keep himself from closing his eyes and shuddering at how wrong Giles had been.

NO! Bottle it up! Bury it! He thought marshaling his willpower to suppress the emotions, It'll only slow you down or make you reckless!

He refused to fail because he allowed his emotions and trauma to get in the way of him keeping his promise to his fallen friends. From this point onward nothing mattered but gaining the skills and resources he'd need in order to fulfill the promise. He would succeed and he would destroy any obstacle that got in his way whether it was a simple pebble or the will of a deity.

Just let someone try to get in his way!

Picking up the final duffel bag containing the few things he cared to take with him he ascended from his basement room taking satisfaction in the fact that he would never set foot in this house again. There was nothing to bring him back to Sunnydale save to pay his respects to the graves of those he'd considered his chosen family and that would only happen one day a year. Already the Watchers Council had relocated the newly Called Slayer to Sunnydale to replace Buffy as the Hellmouth's guardian and she seemed competent enough based on the one patrol he'd observed. So long as she proved to be more than a simple Council weapon and used the brain that God had given her there wouldn't be any problem with regards to the world's safety.

It didn't take him long to exit the house, walk to his car and pop the trunk but then his usual brand of luck kicked in with the front door being roughly opened by the last person he wanted to see.

Tony Harris.

While he had a vague recollection of the man being semi-respectable when he was around five years old the rest of the years hammered one clear fact into place: the man was an utter failure and he knew it. Numerous jobs gained and lost through his own shortcomings, a wife who was the main money maker in the family instead of him and probably a missed chance at athletic stardom had all come together to make Tony well and truly miserable. This by itself would've been fine but instead of accepting the truth and trying to find something more in his league to succeed with Tony had given into his anger choosing to blame others for his misfortune.

More often then not Tony had chosen to vent his blame upon those who should've been safe from it: his wife and his son.

For years he had suffered and for years the only balm for it had been the close friendship he'd had with both Jesse and Willow. Their homes had provided him with sanctuaries where he could feel safe and their friendships had kept his soul from plummeting into the depths of despair. While they hadn't managed to convince him that he could become something great they had motivated him to become someone who was worthy of their kindness and loyalty.

Naturally Tony had tried to shit on this one ray of goodness but he'd rejected the venom filled words in their entirety.

When he'd learned of Buffy's Calling and swore to aid her he'd found a way to become even better than he'd thought possible before she'd come to Sunnydale. How could he feel otherwise when given the chance to help a real live hero like one out of Greek mythology? While her story had ended more like a tragedy than a heroic epic he did not regret making the choice to help her and in honour of her friendship he would see his vow fulfilled.

In short he was NOT going to put up with any of Tony Harris' bullshit.

"Where the hell do you think you're going you sniveling piece of pond scum?!" Tony asked in his usual 'you are completely beneath me' tone of voice, "You owe me rent AND you got a list of chores that need doin'. You're not going ANYWHERE!"

"Shut up Tony." He said tossing the duffel bag into it before slamming the trunk shut, "I don't owe you anything. In fact you owe me plenty for putting up with all the pain you've caused me for most of my life. Luckily for you there's nothing you have that I want and after today we'll never see each other ever again. Nice gift for the both of us isn't it?"

"You little SHIT! HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT ME LIKE THAT!" Tony yelled as he stormed forward his meaty hands clenching into white knuckled fists, "I'LL PUT YOU IN YOUR PLACE ONCE AND FOR A-"

That was as far as Tony got before he tapped into the skills he'd gained from Gabe resulting in him ducking under the man's fully body punch, placing his dominant hand on Tony's jaw and then bringing all strength he had into forcing the man onto his back. Between the drunk's forward momentum and his own efforts to force the asshole's head in the opposite direction it was no surprise that he achieved his goal. Only luck made it so that instead of Tony's head impacting on the asphalt driveway the deplorable man's skull hit the lawn instead. Between the grass itself as well as the dirt beneath it enough of the force of the impact had been dispelled to prevent it from being lethal or even result in a serious injury. The one thing it did do though was what he'd hoped it would do and that was render Tony unconscious in one move so he could leave without further harassment.

"I hope you wake up with one helluva concussion you stinking pile of shit." He said before getting into his car and putting it on course for the quickest way out of Sunnydale.

He kept his car's speed steady and under the speed limit but even as houses passed by the corners of his vision he thought of his enemies and how they might react to his actions. Of all the Scoobies only he had survived and despite the time it'd taken for him to recover no second attempt had been made to end his life. Had the order been rescinded or had they thought him too small a threat to bother with any further?

It didn't matter.

Regardless of their reasons for leaving him alone he would make sure that one day they would realize just how foolish that choice had been. They would look up at him from their broken position on the ground and see their death casting a shadow over their existences.

And then they would die.

However that day would not be anytime soon because even with all he'd inherited from Gabe, even with all the training he'd put himself through, he wasn't good enough to fulfill his promise to the others. He needed to get stronger, get smarter and arm himself with the tools he'd need in order to fulfill his promise.

That being said simply wandering haphazardly around looking for what he needed would take more time than he was willing to let pass. He couldn't go through conventional methods of getting better since he was sure his targets would be alerted and the odds of him finding some teachers outside of their metaphorical field of vision were small indeed. He needed a way to cut down on both the time as well as the difficulty of finding those who could provide him with what he wanted and thanks to G-Man he had such a way.

He just needed to get to Los Angeles.


Los Angeles, California

Twelve Hours Later

The Karaoke Bar Caritas

Lorne's POV

"Boss. Trouble coming in the door." Carlos whispered in a tone he'd learned to listen to in spite of his optimistic attitude in general.

Turning casually towards the door it only took him a minute to spot the person his bartender was referring to and for a moment he thought his friend might've been losing his touch. Walking in the door was a young wearing a brown hooded jacket with what looked to be six pockets, black cargo pants and boots that looked like they'd been bought from an army surplus store. All in all a bit odd considering the sort of weather L.A tended to get but not bizarre enough to set off any warning bells. It was when he took things a bit further and looked deeper that he began to see what'd concerned Carlos but it was still not at the trouble level.

The kid was carrying concealed weapons and had some training in how to use them.

It was his policy that Caritas was open to anyone looking for a drink, music or for those who knew him a bit of guidance where their future was concerned. Considering the sheer number of warrior demons and death cults he was no stranger to customers coming in carrying as many as twenty weapons on their person either out in the open or concealed. Fortunately for him he had a non-violence spell wrapped around his bar that made it impossible for any trouble to start. It'd take a millennia old sorcerer or one of the more magic resistant demon species of a similar age to get past it so he wasn't worried about this guy causing trouble.

When he looked in the kid's eyes though…he now saw what had Carlos worried.

Since he'd opened Caritas he'd seen all types of people from all of the races and for the most part all any of them wanted was a place to have a couple of drinks and get a little guidance. Considering his interests and talents he had no trouble with either but every once in awhile someone came through the door with a look in their eye that told him they wanted something specific.

Something…dangerous.

Normally this didn't worry him too much since Caritas didn't permit violence but all of them wanted him to use his special gift to help them. When that happened he wound up needing more than a few Seabreezes to cope with what he wound up seeing. The troubling images never lasted more than a day or two but they still made him consider just saying 'no' next time one of those kind came around but then he realized the potential problems that could arise. While it was true that no violence could happen inside of the bar that didn't mean that things couldn't happen outside of it such as harassing or even killing some of his customers. Even if some of them he wouldn't shed a tear over it'd give his bar a bad reputation leading to a drop in business if not the elimination of his entire customer base if things got bad enough.

In the end it was best to just put up with the bad and hope the dangerous types didn't come around too often.

Better get this over with. He thought getting off his chair and walking over to the young man.

It took the dangerous young man less than ten seconds to spot him and immediately he spotted the tell tale sign of a demon hunter reflexively reaching for a weapon only to stop himself.

"Hey there sweet cheeks! Welcome to Caritas!" he said doing his part as host, "My name's Lorne."

"Xander." The young man replied looking over the room partially filled with patrons.

He could see the hate in the young man's eyes for the nonhuman customers but when they landed on a vampire the hate spiked to the point where he was afraid he'd get to see the non-violence wards in action. When nothing happened he decided to get things moving along if for no other reason then to hasten the kid's departure.

"Nice to meet ya Xander." He said keeping up the hospitality, "Now what brings you to my humble business?"

"I've heard you've got a unique talent. That you can see the future of a person if they sing for you." Xander said in even tones, "That true?"

"Yep. A lot of people come here looking for that little glimpse of the future." He replied nodding his head glad that the man had accurate info.

"Do you have any control over what you see or is it all random?" Xander asked sounding very specific.

"Random I'm afraid. Sometimes it's what'll happen to a person next week and sometimes its years from now." He replied having answered questions like this before, "But most of the time it's worth the wait."

"Let's hope you're right." Xander said sounding a little disappointed, "I'd like you to take a look and even if you can't control it if you see what I need you to see I want you to mark down the info on these."

With a smooth movement the young man pulled out three maps and conveniently their covers were facing him. A map of North America, a map of Europe and a map of the world respectively.

"You see some globe trotting in your future?" he asked with half-feigned amusement.

"If your vision pans out the way I hope it will. Yeah." Xander replied with a nod.

"Then lay them out and head for the stage. The karaoke machine's enchanted so whatever song you want'll come up along with the words." He said doubting that the kid would get what he wanted but willing to give it a shot.

With a nod the young man unfolded every map on the bar counter before heading for the stage that was empty due to the bar only being open for a little over an hour. Normally they didn't get busy until later on in the evening but sometimes they got a surge earlier on by chance. Seeing the college kid step onto the stage he spotted a momentary blip of uneasiness but that was only natural when singing for the first time in front of a crowd of strangers. Very few people had confidence enough in themselves to go up on stage and sing for the first time without feeling any anxiety at all.

I wonder what he's going to sing. He thought idly never letting his eyes drift.

He didn't have long to wait and when he heard the first five chords he knew what was going to be sung.

"You can run on for a long time, run on for a long time, run on for a long time." Xander sung his voice so charged with emotion there wasn't a person in the room who couldn't feel it, "Sooner or later God'll cut you down, sooner or later God'll cut you down."

With the ending of the first verse his ability to read aura's kicked in and images began to appear in his mind with instability before calming down enough for him to get some information. The first thing he was able to see was a street sign, Aspen Street, with houses that looked pretty much like any other American neighbourhood. Then the image shifted and he got a pretty good look at the Lincoln Memorial giving him a good idea of where the previous street was located. Another shift and he saw a man with a strong jaw wearing a suit looking for all the world like your everyday office jockey but he could tell that was a lie. The last thing he saw before things turned away from the man was a clip on name tag with 'Harry Tasker' standing out with crystal clarity.

"Go tell that long tongue liar, go and tell that midnight rider, tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter." Xander sang and for a moment he almost wished the kid could play the guitar like one of his regular customer's could, "Tell'em that God's gonna cut'em down, Tell'em that God's gonna cut'em down."

Next he didn't have any trouble identifying that he was looking at the city of Sydney in Australia and that was thanks to the image of the infamous opera house there. Then like a half-assed movie scene editing job he was shown a sidewalk but his gift let him know to focus on the group of people, three men and a woman, indicating that they were the people that were important. Images flashed past his mind's eye almost too quickly for him to make sense of but he caught enough to get the feeling that these guys were involved in jobs that most governments claimed 'never happened'. Unlike in the previous bit though he didn't get a full name but rather what he presumed was the last name.

Hunt.

Another shift and the location changed to what looked to be a city right on the edge of an ocean and he could tell it was one of those places where snow never fell. Honestly it was beautiful and it almost made him with that taking a vacation overseas was a possibility for him but he let the feeling pass just the same. Then like someone hitting fast forward the landscape sped by until it settled on what looked to be a scooter rental shop. Inside of it she saw a short haired woman working on some paperwork but then something causes her to turn around. It was then that the angle shifted to show a young man coming in the door with well combed blonde hair and at first looked to embody the image of a good old American boy. However then a distortion came over the young man's face causing it to change from something ordinary to a stone cold killer and then to someone that looked like they'd been involved in a knock down drag out fight that they just barely survived.

It implied that this blonde haired man had more than one face though whether it should be taken literally or just metaphorical was anyone's guess.

"Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand, workin' in the dark against your fellow man." Xander sang sounding like he had someone in mind, "But sure as God made black and white, what's done in the dark will be brought to light."

With a sharp turn the images shifted to another coastal city but he could tell it wasn't in the same part of the world. In the centre of his vision he could see a blue shield fade into view with two fish on the front separated by a golden staff with a spike at one end and curved branch at the other. A blip of change and he saw a bald man in a VERY nice black suit and driving gloves approaching a black BMW. The way the man carried himself sort of reminded him of how Xander had entered the bar but in that comparison the college kid was the amateur while owner of the BMW was the professional. A professional at what he couldn't say but given the presence of the car in his vision he'd say driving was at least in the top three of what the man was known for.

In a move that almost had him believing that it was possible for a person to get vision whiplash he suddenly found himself standing across from a mall of some kind. 'Towson Town Center' clued him into the location before his view panned to the left to show a man with a military haircut looking to be in his early forties. He wasn't alone but rather the man was walking alongside a young lady looking to be only a few years younger than Xander but where the man moved like he could start kicking ass at any moment the girl was clearly a civilian. Then out of nowhere his vision went black as though someone had turned out the lights but he didn't have to worry about the lack of light for long.

With an electronic whine three neon greed orbs arranged in pyramid formation appeared and he felt the whole deer in the headlight routine would be a fitting response.

"Tell'em that God's gonna cut'em down." Xander sung ending the song with its final verse.

As the last bit of the college kid's voice and the music faded he got one final bit of information came to him but it felt like something or someone was trying to force feed it to him. It almost made him recoil from it but his own natural curiosity locked him in place.

Henan province.

Those two words were almost burned into his mind as though whoever was doing the forcing wanted to make sure he didn't forget it or remember it incorrectly.

A minute later it all came to an end and he used one hand to motion to Carlos to pass him the first of what'd likely be TEN Seabreezes. Taking the first gulp he took a pen out of his pocket and began to mark on the maps Xander had provided the locations his visions had shown him and even numbered each one since his instincts told him this was important. For the locations that weren't visible he either listed all he knew off to the side or put the 'X' as close as he could manage in the hopes that it put the college kid in the same ballpark. It didn't take him too long but by the time he was done and Xander arrived he was halfway through his second Seabreeze with no intention of slowing down anytime soon.

"Boobala…I don't know what you're planning and honestly I don't want to know." He said honestly before swallowing another mouthful, "Here's all I got. You need to go to these places in this order. You'll find what you need there for whatever it is you've got planned."

The young man took a moment to look over what he'd written on the maps before folding them back up and tucking them away in one of his jacket's many pockets.

"Thanks. Do I owe you anything? Money? A favour?" Xander asked sounding like he expected it.

"For doing Johnny Cash proud we'll call this one a pro bono pumpkin." He replied with a friendly dismissive gesture, "Just…next time give a fella some warning when you bring an A-bomb like this to my doorstop."

"I'll keep that in mind." Xander said before taking one more opportunity to glare at the demons and vampires in the bar before leaving.

"What'd I tell ya? Trouble." Carlos said with confidence that his earlier sentiment had been verified.

"Honeybuns? Anyone ever tell you that you've got a gift for understatement?" he asked rhetorically while making it clear he believed the answer to his question to be 'YES'.

He didn't know who Xander was or the plans for the future were that the kid had but one thing he was positive about was that the people the young man met in the future would never forget the encounter.

EVER.


The Outskirts of Maryland

Forty-Eight Hours Later

Xander's POV

This had better be worth it. He thought as he drove towards the first address provided to him by the demon that ran the bar.

It'd been a place that he'd heard about from G-Man during one of the research sessions and at the time it'd both confused as well as interested him. A demon karaoke bar where the owner could read your future if you sang for him. It certainly introduced him to a whole new level of weird and it'd made him wonder why Giles would ever go to such a place. According to the Watcher the bar was perfectly safe for humans to visit due to the potent wards against violence that place had and the owner was not hostile to humans. He'd entertained going to the place during his road trip but ultimately chose not to go since learning of the future sounded too much like destiny and he hated the concept with a passion. Destiny meant that their future was set in stone with no way of averting it. While some people might find comfort in that certainty he preferred the limitless possibilities that the unknown offered since it left your future up to your own efforts.

However after what'd happened the owner of Caritas had become his best chance of taking the best course of action. He knew he needed to get better, to become a warrior capable making the impossible possible, and become what he'd need to be to keep the promise he'd made to the graves of his chosen family. However the conventional methods of getting stronger and more skilled would take more time than he was willing to endure. He refused to get training from boot camp and even the best police academy was not good enough for what he wanted. He needed an aggressive training regime that would push him to his limits and achieve maximum results in the minimum amount of time. If all it came down to was willpower he was willing to devote every waking moment he had to it to the exclusion of all else save refueling with food when necessary. The instructors at boot camp were only going to train him until he fit the label of 'acceptable' when what he needed was 'exceptional' or 'extraordinary'.

Then of course there was the fact that enlisting in either military boot camp or police school ran the risk of the ones responsible for the Scooby gang's assassination finding out about him.

He still couldn't determine conclusively whether they'd let him live because they no longer considered him a threat or because they thought he was dead and buried. If the former then they'd likely ignore him as a threat until he had a couple dozen missions under his belt or showed signs of intending to be a pain in the ass. However if the latter then the second his face or basic info got entered into the system he'd be dealing with a ticking time bomb he could neither see or knew when it'd go off. If he was discovered to still be alive then he'd be a loose end that needed tying off and they'd send someone to ensure he had an 'accident' that couldn't be traced back to them. With his meager skills he'd at best have seconds of forewarning and only if the assassin underestimated him. It was more likely that that he'd be okay one second and finding himself in front of the pearly gates the next.

That meant if he wanted to learn what he needed to learn he needed to go straight to the best of the best and convince them to spare some of their time to teach him what they knew.

They could throw at him the most grueling training schedules known to mankind and he'd still take it and make it work for him. He was no stranger to pain and he had the most powerful reason humanity knew as motivation to keep stepping forward no matter what.

His first stop was here in Chevy Chase, Maryland.

He didn't have a lot of clues to work with on his first 'destined' instructor but he had enough to know where he needed to go. The man the demon bar owner had 'seen' was named Harry Tasker and he lived at 3909 Aspen Street. However just a name and an address wouldn't help him much and that meant he needed to do some investigating before he made contact. He'd buy a camera and do a casual drive by of the address taking a few blind pictures of the place both in front as well as from behind. After that he'd see if there was any kind of community centre or some other gathering point for the residents of the neighborhood. Once there he could look for anything convenient like a photo with the name Harry Tasker under it and if that failed he could ask a total of three questions to whoever was inside. If the guy was the teacher he needed then doing anything more would raise all sorts of flags and people tended to remember strangers better with longer conversations.

He needed to know precisely who Harry Tasker was both in terms of appearance as well as what his 'field of expertise' was since it'd give him a better idea of how to handle things.

Too bad the man's appearance would be the easiest thing to acquire.

The people with the sort of skills he needed were either military or intelligence agency field agents neither of which would react well to someone sniffing around asking questions. He knew that he'd be far from subtle given his lack of experience and the requisite training so it was inevitable that they'd spot him eventually. Hopefully though he'd have enough time to know whether to stick around or move onto the next person on the list before he got pulled into a black van for a little Q&A.

Pulling into a cheap but acceptable looking motel he parked in the best place he could think of to not catch anyone's immediate notice. A short talk later and he had the key to one of the rooms with no one the wiser. When he was inside he made sure to lock the door, pull the blinds and check the place for number of ways in or out. With the chance of being found out being better than average he had to plan for the possibility of cars screeching to a stop outside of room and needing to bail.

"Damn. Only the door and the bathroom window." He muttered before beginning to unpack everything he'd brought with him.

While a part of him considered the potential of blasting an escape hole in the right wall he eventually dismissed it. He didn't have any premade explosives handy and didn't trust his memory to put together a mix that'd do the job without blowing himself up in the process. Gabe's memories though did provide him with an alternative but it'd only work if the people sent to pick him up were few in number. If they locked down on the entire area he'd only so far before they'd be on him and he doubted they'd be so kind as to leave him a clear route to drive his car through. He'd have to hop fences and hijack new wheels but even then he didn't like his odds of getting away.

Again his lack of skills and abilities was biting him in the ass.

He needed to make sure that he got things right on the first go because if he made too many mistakes it'd ruin his first opportunity and possibly set the trend for all the others.

Unpacking his things he secreted weapons throughout the room but in such a way that unless you'd seen them being hidden you'd never know they were there. He kept six on his person, an even mix of guns and blades, but once he had the room just the way he liked it he left the room for his car. He might be tired but there were still a few things he needed to do before he could rest and catch a couple of hours sleep. Surveillance equipment, tools that could be modified into things capable of bypassing most home security systems and a few things that when mixed could be used as improvised weapons. With all that was at stake he had no intention of failing and that meant covering as many bases as he could conceive of while at the same time remaining versatile enough to adapt to the unexpected.

No one could cover for all possible scenarios and only an idiot tried.

The most you could hope for was to simply do your best.

He just intended to make his best better than the best of those he planned on putting in the ground by hook or by crook.

He would keep his promise to his fallen friends no matter what.


Two Days Later

Aspen Street

Xander's POV

Not exactly the sort of environment you'd expect a professor of kicking ass to be living in. he thought taking in the neighborhood Harry Tasker lived in.

Then again what could really be called a fitting environment for such a person?

Some place that was chosen for the sheer number of defensible qualities it possessed or could be made to have? Would it have a dojo of some sort or various pieces of training equipment spread out across the back yard? Honestly he was probably thinking of all the action movies he'd seen a little too much of. In truth a real master of kicking ass was probably more discrete when it came to his home and what sort of things he brought home from work. Whether they were a member of the military or one of the intelligence agencies they'd either know the value of keeping a low profile or want a sanctuary away from work where they could just be themselves.

As he approached the address of his first instructor he reached up to the camera he'd purchased and pressed the trigger button. According to the man who'd sold it to him it had a feature that would cause it to snap a picture every two, five or ten seconds depending on what he wanted. Naturally he'd set it at two seconds not wanting to miss a thing and by his estimation he'd have just enough shots to successfully make a pass of the house and he had another roll of film for the rear of the house. With any luck he'd catch enough useful facts to fuel further research and then when he was ready he could make contact with Harry Tasker.

Keeping the speed of his car slow enough that the pictures wouldn't be blurred but fast enough that no one would suspect what he was really doing he proceeded past 3909 Aspen Street. It looked for all intents and purposes like your typical two floor family house with a trimmed lawn along with several other things you'd expect to see in a middle class home. If the man he was looking for truly lived there then either his job didn't pay well or he exerted more control over his spending than most people might.

Just as he was almost perfectly in line with the front door Lady Luck threw him a bone when it opened to reveal a tall man in a suit wearing glasses. Overall one might mistake him for some desk jockey with about as much combat prowess as a particularly stunned hillbilly but he knew it was all just a front. The way the man carried himself, the way the clothes were definitely chosen to hide the build that he'd bet money was hidden beneath and the way the man casually let his gaze pass over the area told him the truth. It was the discrete use of deception that made him think that Tasker was a spook rather than a ground pounder since front line soldiers had a different mindset than spies did.

Definitely gonna have to bring my A-game if I want things to go my way. He thought keeping his gaze straight ahead, This guy's probably a pro at blending in and spotting others who're trying to do the same.

Taking the first turn at the end of the block he circled around to the rear of the house to get an idea of how things were from that angle. It wasn't the best since a fence kept a lot of the house obscured but he'd wait until he got back to his motel room before labeling this set of photos a complete loss.

Ten minutes later he was done an on his way out of the neighborhood.

Now some might think that all this work wasn't necessary if all he wanted was to get the man to sharpen his fighting edge but they'd be wrong.

Doing it that way he'd appear to be just some random college kid asking for instruction in things a 'family man' could not possibly know about. At best he'd get the brush off followed by a restraining order if he didn't give up quickly enough. At worst Tasker might get suspicious and mention him to his bosses as someone to run a background check on and that'd cause all sorts of flags to go up. What he needed was to do something to impress the man or at least make him more willing to consider granting his request for training.

In his mind that meant finding out as much as he could about the man before he got noticed with evidence to back it up. Evidence that he'd hand over to Tasker part of the way through the initial meeting as a show of good faith and hopefully dispel whatever ill will might exist. If he could prove he wasn't a complete amateur and had the potential to not be a complete waste of time without appearing to be a threat then maybe he'd get what he wanted.

Probably be best to still do some neighborhood Q&A. he thought mapping a roundabout return route to his motel room, I need to know more about him especially when his house'll be empty and when it'll have someone in it.

After all what better way to impress the man than to prove he could get into the Tasker home, find some important info and then leave without leaving any visible sign that he was there.

Of course since this was essentially a 'pulled out of his ass' plan he would have something handy for escaping just in case Tasker didn't appreciate someone invading his privacy.

Given that he'd seen a four door car in the driveway that didn't scream smooth executive the odds were good that his future teacher either had a family or at least a roommate. In either case it'd mean more than one person whose movements he'd need to keep tabs on going anywhere from two to as many as six. He sincerely hoped that even if it did turn out to be quite a few people that they were the sort that went everywhere with each other since that'd cut down on the number of variables he'd need to keep track of. Once he got a feel for their schedule and movement patterns he'd inevitably find a moment when the house would be completely empty for at least an hour.

He wouldn't trail the man to where he worked because even an idiot like him knew that the place would have cameras covering the whole area both visible ones and concealed ones. Hell! If he really wanted to be paranoid they could have people in plain clothes positioned at key points with orders to keep their eyes peeled for any suspicious behavior. He needed to keep his face out of any official record and out of the minds of people who might pass things up the chain of command to the wrong people.

Instead he'd focus on the man's roommate or family and follow them about to find out more. The odds were good that they were civilians with little if any idea about what Harry did for a living so there's no way that they'd have the skills necessary to spot him unless he got VERY sloppy. Once he had all he needed to know about them it would only take a little logical deduction to get a handle on his potential instructor's movements. After all families tended to eat together right? That meant that they'd be home at the same time. If it turned out to be a case of a roommate then it'd be easier since there'd only be one other person besides Harry he'd have to learn about.

This guy had better be one helluva badass super spy. He thought with a bit of irritation at the workload he'd be shouldering for the foreseeable future, Or else I'm going back to Caritas and demanding a refund or something.


Omega Sector

Harry Tasker's POV

"Anything new Dave?" he asked his co-worker just like he had every week for the last five years.

"Nothing Harry. Sorry." Dave replied with sympathy, "I'll keep looking. Cases like this…they can go for years and then one lucky break can bust things wide open. Keep the faith Harry."

"I will." He said even as he tried to keep the weight of the past five years from showing.

The weight of all the emotions inside of him that had only gotten stronger in the time that'd passed rather than weaker. Ever since Dana had failed to come home from school he had done all he could to find her regardless of how much it raised Spencer's ire when he 'borrowed' Sector resources. Eventually though the ultimatum he'd expected was delivered but it was more lenient than he'd been anticipating. He was not to allow his personal tragedy to interfere with his performance on assignments and in exchange he'd permit the usage of SOME resources provided they weren't too flashy. He and Spencer went way back and he appreciated his boss's show of support but he knew that even the director of Omega Sector had bosses to answer to. While the man could hide some costs between the lines anything that'd show up on the news or in reports filed by people not under Spencer's control would lead to some tough questions.

He was under no illusions about what'd happen at that point.

Best case scenario? Spencer would lose his job and he'd be given shit assignments for at least ten years unless something big happened that required his help specifically.

At the very worst they'd both be 'vanished' before being dropped into a deep and dark hole where they'd never see the light of day again.

So far it hadn't come to that but neither had they been able to find Dana so he was almost ready to push the envelope a little in order to get results.

Thinking back to that fateful day he wondered for the hundredth time why his little girl had been taken from him

It had started out so well just as it had since some of the secrets had been revealed to his wife and daughter. They hadn't been completely briefed on his job but there was a heavily censored version that'd been prepared for just such a scenario and that had proven to be enough. As a result whenever he'd needed to go out of town on assignment he could tell them the basics but nothing rated as classified. There had even been a few missions when he'd been able to take Helen along with him as part of his cover but never into a situation where combat was probable. No matter what she'd been through during the whole Crimson Jihad incident Helen was not a trained combatant and certainly not at the same level as him. While he'd broached the idea with her in the months that followed she'd made it clear that she'd leave the fighting to him.

Dana on the other hand had equal parts thrilled and terrified when she'd been taken hostage and had stated that maybe she'd sign up for spy school once she graduated from high school. He and Helen had laughed it off believing it to merely be a whim induced by the adrenaline rush their daughter had no doubt experienced during the incident. They'd been certain that in a couple of months Dana would change her mind and say she wanted to be a rock star or maybe a professional athlete. In all honesty while a part of him had been touched that his little girl wanted to follow in his footsteps the majority of him didn't want her anywhere near his line of work. He knew all too well how dangerous it was and despite his success he knew that for every exceptional agent such as himself there were a dozen whose sacrifices would never be officially recorded or acknowledged.

Just as not every athlete made the big leagues and signed multi-million dollar contracts not everyone who tried out for the spy business achieved the same level as success as him.

It was only two months later that after failing to make it home in time for supper Helen had called the school to inquire if Dana was still there. When they'd been told that she wasn't they'd been a little worried but simply assumed that she'd gone to a friend's house and forgotten to call to let them know she'd be late. While they hadn't known the phone numbers to every one of Dana's friends those that'd been around since she was five years old had been written down to keep their parents informed during sleepovers or trips to the water park. One by one he and Helen had called the numbers but with each one that denied Dana being there worry began to rise within them that something might have happened. He hadn't wanted to think about it but a part of him knew that they hadn't captured every member of the Crimson Jihad group and even if they had it was possible that one of his other enemies had tracked him down.

Without hesitation he'd gone to the office and ordered that every camera that they had access to along Dana's usual route home be brought up starting when classes had let out for the day. He'd sat in front of the screen for hours scrutinizing every detail but in the end he'd only been able to come to a single conclusion: Dana hadn't left school through any of the entrances used by students. Assuming that the faculty member he'd spoken to hadn't been lying then it meant that while his daughter had remained until the end of the school day something had happened immediately afterwards. Pulling up a list he selected the cameras both on the school property as well as adjacent to it that gave him the best coverage of every way in and out. If there was a door he made she he had a camera on it even if in some cases he couldn't see the entire door due to the angle. Starting the clock from half an hour before classes had let out he watched and even had both Gib and Faisal help in order to make sure nothing was missed.

It took some time but eventually they spotted three masculine figures carrying something that could've been Dana out one of the service entrances to the school.

Locking onto that they'd tracked the vehicle the three men had gotten into using every resource at their disposal to ensure they didn't lose it at any point. Once he'd been certain that those manning the cameras could be trusted to keep on it he'd immediately gone to the Omega Sector armoury to gear up for a fight. He'd heard Gib, who'd been following him, say that it'd be overkill but from his point of view it was just enough kill. After all it wasn't just his goal to get Dana back but also to make sure that those responsible had fear burn into their brains the consequences of kidnapping his daughter. In the end his partner had just geared up with him and in less than five minutes they were being fed directions via Faisal on where the vehicle was going allowing them to close the gap in no time.

Before long they were outside of a rundown looking apartment building with the vehicle parked out front. While a part of him was thinking about calling in a full Omega Sector strike force to storm the place a larger part of him wasn't willing to wait. Without knowing who the men were or their purpose in kidnapping Dana they could be preparing to do something terrible to her right this very moment. With that in mind he and Gib had infiltrated the building being quick while also keeping an eye out for anything that might give away their presence to the enemy. Using an extendable camera cord they checked each room in the building one by one ignoring those with no sounds of occupancy in order to save time. Eventually they found a room with three men inside in clothes that only someone not American would think were perfect for blending in with the locals. On the couch had been a body that was just the right size for Dana but with the camera he hadn't been able to get a clear look at the girl's face. Still he'd been able to get an accurate grasp of where the three men in the room were located and silently communicated this to Gib.

The plan had been to use specialized Omega tech to take the door down quickly then both of them would dive in before taking them out. They'd done it dozens of times before and between the two of them three men weren't enough to even approach being called a threat.

He had been kicking himself ever since for assuming that things would go that smoothly.

The burns on his forearms also served as reminders of what'd happened a little over a second before he'd intended to press the button activating the tech he and Gib had placed to deal with the door.

Even going over the entire event from beginning to end he couldn't think of a single thing that might've tipped them off but in the end it didn't matter. In a fiery explosion both he and Gib had been thrown against the opposite wall and when he'd recovered his senses he'd followed his instincts and had tried to charge in desperately in the faint hope that Dana was still alive. He'd only gotten a brief look at the burning body on the couch before creaking noises implying a compromised structure caused Gib to drag him out of the building. Only his extreme emotional state had made it possible for his partner to do it and once all the fuel in his soul had been spent he'd felt more like an animated corpse than a living human being. The days that had followed had been heart wrenching as he'd conveyed the terrible news to Helen but then out of nowhere a form of hope had pierced through the tragedy.

A mandatory autopsy of the bodies had turned up one irrefutable fact: the body on the couch WASN'T Dana Tasker!

Sure all the usual I.D signs matched with what was in Dana's official record but when there'd been a mention of signs that the right leg had been broken within the last three to four years he knew something was amiss. It wasn't a very long or detailed mention but he'd sifted through documents while on a mission for critical intel before so his eyes had caught it immediately. The autopsy had been done by a member of the local P.D rather than Omega Sector but it'd still bothered him that such an obvious inconsistency had been overlooked. A broken leg wasn't something a parent forgot when it came to their only child and any competent medical examiner should've picked up on the anomaly immediately. He'd been tempted to press Spencer to take over the investigation but two things had stopped him.

The first had been the fact that if this all meant that Dana's death had been faked like his instincts had told him then delaying a closing of the file could be a crucial error. If his enemy thought that their trick hadn't worked they'd either flee America with all due speed or find some way to force the case closed. If the civilian examiner was crooked or under pressure to overlook anomalies then it had been a possibility that others had likewise received instructions. They'd need to snatch the body from the morgue without anyone realizing it was gone but that led to problem number two.

Spencer wouldn't authorize such action unless he had further proof of something shady going on. As much as they considered each other friends his boss needed grounds to mobilize Omega personnel that would satisfy those who read their reports. If he could prove that the three men were using fake identities or had been in possession of illegal weapons then a case could be made that they were up to something shady. The fact that they'd kidnapped and suicide bombed the daughter of an agent with no other visible motive would be enough to indicate they'd known what he did for a living. That implied a breach of Omega Sector security and that demanded investigation in order to locate then plug the leak as well as assess the extent of the leaked information.

As a byproduct he'd get his second autopsy of the body that'd confirm it wasn't Dana.

Everything had gone like clockwork but a moment after an Omega examiner confirmed that the body wasn't Dana his boss had barged in calling a halt to everything. The man had ordered all records incinerated along with the hard drives and that the investigation itself to be killed. Naturally he'd been shocked and outraged but he'd had presence of mind to maintain the front that he was merely pursuing a potential threat to Sector security. However Spencer had given him a LOOK that he'd known meant 'shut up, play along, we'll talk later' and it'd been with great difficulty that he'd done as he'd been ordered. He'd maintained the air of an offended agent that didn't like outside interference in his investigation but eventually relented once Spencer got insistent enough.

From there everything they'd managed to dig up on the three men was destroyed and the data on the hard drives destroyed beyond any hope of recovery.

It'd been a week later before he'd received an odd phone call asking him if he was interested in fine cigars and that there was a special on Cubans if he was interested. He'd known instantly that this was a sign from Spencer and had casually kept a conversation going before ending the call and leaving for the cigar shop. He'd used every trick he knew to lose a tail as well as sneaking into a building but eventually he arrived and spotted Spencer dressed like someone straight out of the fifties. A moment later to ensure that no one could listen in and he demanded answers about what was going on.

What he'd gotten was more than he'd been expecting and it'd also made it clear that any future investigating would need to be kept VERY low profile. Apparently the orders to kill the investigation and destroy all record of it had come from the very top of the chain of command. Spencer of course had tried to get an explanation for why the order had been given but all he'd been told was that allowing the investigation to continue would violate one of the oldest agreements the country had. When his boss had tried to press for more details he'd been threatened with the exposure of certain facts of the past if he didn't drop it immediately.

The best either of them could figure out there was only one kind of agreement that would allow for this sort of weight to throw around.

It had to be an agreement between nations or more specifically between America and a nation of sufficient power that the top brass weren't willing to violate it over one teenage girl even if she was his daughter. Spencer had informed him that he'd do all he could to help but they had to be smart about it and make sure any surveillance on them believed that the investigation into Dana's death was dead and buried.

That was five years ago and despite his most vigorous desire to the contrary he was beginning to lose hope.

You work as a spy long enough you learned that the longer a case stayed cold the less likely it'd ever get solved.