Author: Alan Podjursky <alan.p[at]>

Summary: A sequel to 'Changing'.

Crossover: Enclave (PC game)

Disclaimer: I own sod-all, and that doesn't include BtVS or Enclave.

Feedback: Why? Why not?

BandThisWasWrittenTo: Dead Can Dance

Pre-fic Comments:

I seem to have coined an acronym -- YAHF. Heh. Don't worry, I don't charge royalties.

'Changing' can be found at

Chapter 1

Xander was not a happy bunny after Halloween '97. Nope, not at all.

He'd gone as an assassin for that night, when he had had to escort a group of kids around. Voluntarily, Snyder-style. The new place, 'Ethans Costume Shoppe', had given him one hell of a deal on a costume. He'd since found that the costume was of a female assassin, and when everyone had been turned into the costume they'd bought from Ethan, the magic had turned him into a female to match his costume.

True, he'd come out of it with mad knife skills, could thread a needle with his crossbow at four hundred meters, and could be stealthier than a whole gang of Sam Fisher-alikes if he wanted to. But he wasn't a he anymore. That was his major bitch. Er, her major bitch.

Xander really could've lived without knowing what periods were like. Really. She also could have lived without being hit on by the football team (who wanted to check out the 'new chick'), having Cordelia try and advise her fashion wise, and Xander really could have done without Buffy and Willow trying to get her to do her nails and stuff.

Dammit! Xander had been happy being a grubby male.

She curled back against a cooling duct on the roof she was on, black leather and cotton silently moving with her. Xander was lightly armed, and only had her big knife and a half dozen slim throwing knives.

Her body stiffened as she saw a familiar face passing by on the street below. True, the person was wearing makeup, a wig, and completely un-British clothing, but she'd recognise Ethan Rayne anywhere.


Ethan gave in to his impulses, and laughed evilly as he looked around his shop. Children were swarming it, all hiring costumes for tonight.

Last year, Ripper had found him too quickly. At all was too quickly, though. That had been his own fault, Ethan could admit to that. He hadn't even bothered to change his name or disguise himself. To be fair, that had been because he had thought that Ripper had been rotting back in England.

No, this year, a Mister Tom Riddle had opened a costume shop called 'Lookalike Tonight'. Not terribly original, but Ethan felt like tweaking a few noses. Yesterday, many kids had commented on his name. It had been good publicity, when they told their mates that "You Know Who" was selling Halloween costumes.

Business had been so good, in fact, that he had had to hire an assistant. Rob was manning the register and working the crowd, so Ethan decided to take a break in the back room. The thin man stepped through the curtain dividing the shop floor from the back room, and went rigid as he felt cold steel touching his neck. For some reason, the touch burned, even though the metal had not cut yet.

"Ethan Rayne," a female voice said, full of sadistic happiness.

"N-never met him," Ethan said.

"I've been waiting to see you again," the female voice said, kicking him into an armchair. "No, don't get up -- unless you're tired of living and want to give death a go."

"Who... who are you?," Ethan asked.

The figure stepped into the small pool of light in the small, dim room.

The figure was clothed in black leather, and a silk scarf hid the lower half of her face. Ethan could tell that the figure was female, even with the breast bindings over top of the leather clothes. The hood covering her face was lowered.

"Recognise me?," she asked.

"Should I?," Ethan puzzled. "You don't look like an old flame."

He found himself with the big knife at his throat again. He could now see that it was faintly glowing green.

"Let's not be hasty," Ethan said, eyes widening.

"Reverse your spell," she commanded. "Make me a guy again!"

"I would, except that... well, I can't," Ethan said, sincerely hoping he lived through this.

A look of hate bloomed on the woman's face.

"I could help you adjust to your new situation," Ethan offered, a leer on his face plain.

She looked him up and down. "Hmmm... I think you're right."

The next thing Ethan knew, she had hit him over the head and knocked him out.


Xander whistled as she wandered into the school library.

"Ah, Xander," Giles blinked as he saw her. "You're in a good mood today."

"You could say that," Xander grinned. She had changed into a pair of jeans and a somewhat baggy stockcar T-shirt.

"Might I ask what brought on this good mood?," Giles asked.

"Just laying the past to rest, G-man, laying the past to rest."


Ethan groaned softly. He could distantly feel pain, along with the pleasant high of strong pain relievers.

"Where... where am I?"

As his vision cleared, he saw that he was in a hospital ward of some sort.

"Ah, Mister Rayne," a nurse said, approaching him with clipboard. For some reason, her full, buxom figure did nothing for Ethan. Strange.

"What... what happened?," Ethan rasped out.

"I'm afraid to report that you were found, maimed badly, at the back of your shop," the nurse said.

"Give me the details," Ethan commanded.

"Are you sure?," the nurse said.

"Tell me!"

"I'm afraid... you were castrated, Mister Rayne," the nurse said sadly. "You should thank the girl who rang 911 for you, as you would have bled to death if we had been a few minutes late."

"Ca-c-castrated?!," Ethan asked, voice just about gone.

"Whoever did it was extremely thorough," the nurse continued to report. "I'm afraid that we were unable to retrieve your penis and testicles. So far, Forensics suspects that the perpetrator, er, flushed them down the lavatory."

The Brit's hands shot towards his crotch.


The End