Alexander LaVelle Harris inched his way along the rooftop trying desperately to make as little noise as possible. The group of vampires below seemed, so far, to be unaware of his presence. The wooden stake and the cross jammed into his belt dug into skin as he maneuvered himself into a position above the bloodsuckers.
With all the crap that had been going on lately, running into two vampires dragging a young girl into a warehouse had seemed like par for course for him, and when he couldn't get Buffy, Willow, or anyone on his cell-phone, well...that was just more Xander luck.
Now, looking down through the open skylight down onto the group of six vampires gathered around the altar they had strapped the young girl to, he knew somebody upstairs had it in for him.
Rationally he probably should try and go for help. After all, his chances of taking out six vampires, even with surprise, were virtually nil. But if he did the girl would be dead, not to mention the fact that aside from Buffy or Wills there wasn't much in the way of help to be had. Considering the neighborhood he was in, there likely was no slayer within yelling distance.
No, he was on his own. On the bright side he couldn't see any Turok- Han uber-vamps in there.
He took out the container of holy water he had purloined from the neighborhood church and tried to figure out how to get it to splatter the most vampires at once.
Suddenly the old dry-rotted timbers of the roof, stressed beyond their limits by the weight of his body, gave way under him. He was so startled he didn't even let out a yell as he hurtled downward in a welter of wood and roofing. The impact drove the wind out of him. Gasping for breath he realized he had landed on something softer than the concrete floor of the warehouse. Unfortunately the softer something didn't like its current use and with an animalistic snarl it surged to its feet, throwing Xander off.
Wobbling to his feet, every part of his body aching, he realized his back was to the altar the girl was tied to. He also realized he was staring a vampire in the face. The ugly ridged face and yellow eyes twisted into an even more distorted form as it growled at him, and then flinched back as Xander shoved his cross at it.
He took a quick glance around him. The other vampires were moving around the altar to get on the same side with him.
"Hey guys, sorry to drop in on your party like this...well actually, no I'm not. It's just kinda social politeness that forces me to say that." As he spoke his hand was scrabbling behind him for the knot that held the girls hands. He could hear her sobs behind him. There it was.
"You know you guys should really find another party game than "sacrifice the innocent." I mean come on, it's gotta get boring after the first two or three dozen times." The knot came loose and the girl quickly jerk her hands free of the ropes and, sitting, reached for the ones on her legs.
The vampires snarled as she came partially free. He leapt forward, thrusting the cross into their faces, waving it to catch all of them. This wasn't going to hold them back long.
"You'd better hurry." He muttered out of the side of his mouth.
"I'm trying. The rope is-" Just then the knot came loose. Xander saw her feet, kicking free of the rope, catch the small golden statue the vampires had placed at her feet in preparation for whatever ceremony they had planned, and it went tumbling off the end of the altar.
"No!" The hoarse scream came from one of the vampire's throats and, as it dived for the stature, the others recoiled in fear. He watched the object hit the floor and the "gold" shatter like glass with a sudden sinking feeling. As he had once told Joyce Summers: generally something that makes the scary things scared, is bad.
Even as he saw the pieces begin to flicker with an odd searing light, he reacted on instinct. The instincts that had kept his friends alive on the Hellmouth for nearly seven years. Heart pounding with an adrenaline high he snatched the young girl from the altar and hurled her bodily as hard as he could out away from the broken statue. Screaming, "Run!"
He had time to see her slide to a stop about twenty-five feet away and roll dazedly to look back at him before the searing golden light enveloped him and obliterated any sight.
Tumbling through a brilliant and somehow painful golden light for long seconds Xander had time to wonder briefly what the hell was going on and to wonder if he had just died, or was about to, when he was suddenly dropped out of the light into darkness.
Once again he landed on something soft, and this something objected even faster than the last one, a limb slamming him aside even as he hit it. He sprawled upon a much harder, sandy surface, before survival instincts kicked in.
Heaving himself to his hands and knees he lifted his head and found himself staring straight down the barrel of a gun. .45 ACP Heckler & Koch USP pistols, some small part of his mind informed him even as he froze.
"Who the hell are you?"
His mind registered the British accent even as his eyes followed the barrel up to the arm that held it and past, to the face of...Angelina Jolie! Xander blinked in absolute stupefaction.
Wait, the momentary brain hiccup passed, it wasn't Angelina Jolie. The angles of the face were just slightly different and her body was definitely not that of the actor. The distinctly feminine proportions were all there, but her figure was that of a true athlete. She definitely wasn't a vampire; she was breathing hard and sweating, as if she had just been doing something strenuous.
"I repeat. Who. Are. You."
Right. Gun pointed at my forehead. Answer the lady Xander. "Uhn, Xander Harris."
"How did you get in here?"
Looking cautiously away from her Xander glanced around, and blinked. What the hell? It was a small square corridor: old stonewalls, a stone floor covered in dust dirt and sand, and it was really dark. The only light sources being a small chemical glow-stick hanging from the Jolie look-alike's belt and...
"Well, I'm kinda guessing my being here has something to do with that."
He pointed one hand toward the small statue laying half out of the small backpack on the sandy floor. It was identical to the one that had smashed falling off the vampire's altar and it was glowing slightly.
"Oh, bugger." Her dark blue eyes went from the statue to him and studied him for another moment then she opened her mouth to speak again. Before she could get anything out a hair-raising noise, somewhere between a scream and a howl, reverberated up out of the darkness of the corridor behind him. "Bloody..."
The pistol swung up away from him and her other hand snaked out to grasp his shirt at the scruff of his neck. One armed she heaved him to his feet and past her in the opposite direction from whatever was making the noise.
"Run, straight ahead!"
Xander hardly need to be told. When something in Sunnydale made that kind of noise, it was definitely not something he wanted to meet. A moment later he slowed, it was getting rather dark and he realized she wasn't following. Starting to turn back, the sudden thud of running footsteps and brightening light informed him of her approach.
"Keep going!"
"Uhn, I don't have a light here." Before he could even finish the sentence her heard a slight pop and something was thrust into his hand. Her hand shoved him ahead and, running again, he saw the light stick she had just activated and passed to him begin to glow. The next couple minutes were a nightmare of dim hallways and jumping shadows, of aching lungs and of those god-awful howls getting ever closer in the stygian darkness. She remained right behind, a warm human presence in the middle of the nightmare, directing him at each fork or intersection, sounding utterly calm and collected.
"Up ahead, the alcove on the left side of the corridor. Climb up the rope, quickly."
It came into view a second later: a slight depression into the monotonous gray walls. A hole was carved into the ceiling and a rope hung out of the blackness above. He angled toward it when something moved in the shadows near the rope. Before he could do more than have his heart jump into his throat, three precise shots rang-out near his side, painfully loud in the enclosed space. The thing in the shadows jerked violently from the impacts staggering back and collapsing into a motionless heap of fur and scales.
Reaching the alcove he scrabbled for the rope and threw himself upward hand over hand, muttering, "I hated this in high school gym."
"Move faster." Her voice came from below him and now had a note of tension in it.
The chemical tube, which he had hooked to his shirt collar, using the handy snap on it, threw it's light above him showing the uniform gray stone of the tube he was climbing up. It seemed to end about another fifteen feet above him. A very close howl from below urged him to hurry as he clawed upward.
Shots rang out below him, and the volume of fire told him the woman had un-holstered the second gun he had noticed on her other thigh. The bellow that came vibrating up the shaft this time had another note in it: pain.
He was almost to the top when the gunfire cut off and her felt the rope jerk glancing down he saw her light climbing upward at a far greater pace than he was moving.
Xander's head crested the opening of the shaft and he scrabbled at the stone lip then heaved himself over it. Rolling to his hands and knees he saw the anchor bolt that had been driven into the rock with the rope attached. The rope was jiggling wildly as she ascended much faster than he had and the howl that echoed up from below sounded like the-whatever it was- was right underneath. When her hand cleared the lip he reached out to help her over but she swung herself up and out before he could do anything but extend his hand. The rope went taut as something big grabbed it from below. A quick move of her hand freed a knife up from its sheath on her leg and in a moment the rope was cut, falling back into the darkness where something howled its rage.
She didn't even pause to let him catch his breath. "Follow me. This is the only way up I know of, but that doesn't mean there aren't more." She dragged him to his feet and set off at a run.
More featureless gray corridor flashed by, broken only by the occasional door or hall leading off into darkness. There was something different about these corridors than the ones below, the shadows were less dark, the air was cleaner, and the temperature seemed to be warmer.
Gasping for air Xander kept running, a cramp building in his side. A little in front of him the woman moved easily, in a way that reminded him more of an Olympic sprinter than anything, and to add insult to injury, he didn't even think she was breathing hard. Suddenly he noticed a lightening up ahead, a glow almost painfully bright to his dark adjusted eyes. Daylight.
As they approached the exit Xander could see heavy foliage: what looked to be jungle outside. The woman slowed a little as they came in range of the sunlight leaking in. Her head turned toward him, mouth opened to speak, when some sound from the darkness behind them caught her attention. Her long braid swung outward as her head turned quickly in that direction, then the line of her mouth hardened and she stopped within ten feet of the exit.
"Go outside, straight ahead and over the ridge." Even as she spoke she was tugging something out of her small backpack.
"But-" he managed to gasp out.
"Go." The word was a flat order.
It was as much the sight of what she was attaching to the walls as her command that got him to move. He had seen enough movies to recognize C-4 when he saw it.
He had reached the rise in the jungle floor just in sight of the labyrinth entrance, about a hundred and fifty feet away, when he stopped. He couldn't bring himself to just leave her, it went against every instinct he had.
Another minute passed when suddenly she came sprinting out of the underground passageway. The comparison to an Olympic sprinter once again passed through his mind as she belted across the small clearing and up the slope toward him.
A thunderous detonation shook leaves from the trees and his ears popped from the momentary pressure change. She stopped as she reached him and they both looked at the plume of dust and dirt spewing from the collapsed entryway.
Her heard her mutter, "Well, that deals with the immediate problem."
The last few minutes had been a nightmare, really not all that unusual for the Sunnydale native, the difference was that this had been a confused nightmare. He stared at the beautiful woman beside him, his mind processing the input of the last few minutes. Xander knew he wasn't as smart as Willow, and he wasn't exactly detective guy, but the indicators here were so obvious they were screaming. And he was having a hard time believing them.
"We need to get moving. We don't want to be out her after dark, and my jeep is a few miles down the trail." He blue eyes met his as she spoke.
He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again, not quite sure how to ask. Looks like Angelina Jolie, speaks with a British accent, has a long hair braid, carries twin .45's in thigh holsters, and looks to be raiding a tomb.
"You haven't even told me your name." He finally got out, in response to her arching eyebrow.
She turned away down the path, motioning for him to follow, and her voice floated back to him. "Lara Croft."
Xander slumped against the cool metal hood of the jeep feeling like he just finished a boot camp run with a sixty-pound pack. The forced trek through the several miles of sweltering jungle taking their toll. The afternoon sun angled through the branches, casting golden spears of light between the trees, but leaving most of the jungle floor in shade. What looked to be the overgrown ruminants of an ancient road or pathway cut through the foliage up toward the pass out of the valley.
Lara hadn't allowed them to stop or even slow down getting to the jeep, and after she had informed him that the things in the buried catacombs came out and hunted at night, he didn't argue.
"Here, catch."
An object came sailing at him from the back of the jeep, where Lara had immediately gone, when they arrived. Awkwardly managing to catch it, it sloshed just a little as he got hold. A canteen.
Eagerly he unscrewed the top and, putting it to his mouth, upended it. Water. Cool, clear, beautiful water.
"Not too much at once." She said sliding into the drivers seat holding a second canteen. "If something else goes wrong we may need to do some more running."
He watched as she took a swig from her canteen then laid her head back with her eyes closed for a moment. A grin crept onto her face. "I haven't had that much fun in months."
Lara's grin widened after her eyes opened and she saw the look on his face. "You think that's strange." It wasn't really a question.
Xander shrugged, "As I once told a friend of mine: I laugh in the face of danger, than I run and hide until it goes away."
That earned him a short laugh, "Very sensible, but not nearly as much fun." Her face became serious again. "And it makes me wonder how you got here."
The surreal-ness factor, that he had been suppressing during the hike though the jungle, returned full force and he looked back at Lara Croft across the passenger seat of her jeep. How the hell did he get here, and where was here? He was talking to a fictional character for God's sake! Granted, it was one of the fictional characters he would like talk to but...
Considering past experience on the Hellmouth several options immediately came to mind: hallucination, spell related or otherwise; transfer to some weird alternate dimension, hopefully without a vamp Willow; or he had just plain gone insane.
Taking a deep breath he said, "I think that may be a very complicated question. I'm just not sure how complicated yet." Noting the slight frown on her face he asked, "Could we discuss this once we get out of the valley? This place is giving me the jitters. I haven't heard a single animal the entire hike here."
She motioned him into the jeep, "That's because there aren't any. The creatures eat anything that comes here."
Her answer to his sideward glance was another smile. The engine growled as she turned it on and shifted into gear. "You might want to buckle up." The jeep lurched forward and Xander's reply was cut off by his teeth rattling as one of the tires dropped into, and pulled out of, a hidden hole.
Lara set the case for the satellite phone down on the table. She glanced around the room gauging spaces. She hadn't been expecting to have company staying with her when she reserved the room from the hotel owner. No other rooms were available due to the sudden increase in the town's population for the annual New Year's festival. She felt a bubble of amusement as she remembered how the proprietor had tried to grossly overcharge her, thinking she was just some sort of tourist. Her fluent, and descriptive, Spanish had quickly disabused him of the notion.
It wasn't a huge room, about twenty feet by fifteen, containing a bed, a couple chairs, and a small table. A doorway to her right showed a bath, with an old cast iron tub and copper pipes protruding from the walls.
Hearing Xander coming up the stairway she held the door open for him as he carried the sleeping roll and two other packs into room.
"Dé la bienvenida a mi domicilio humilde." She said.
"Hunh?" He straightened up looking at her.
"Welcome to my humble abode."
"Oh, right." He glanced around and shrugged. "It looks a lot better than some of the places in Sunnydale."
Holding up a finger Lara said, "That conversation, after I get clean. There's food in the gray bag and you still have your canteen." She gestured out toward the rest of the town. "Don't drink the water."
Shut in the bathroom she stripped off the sweat and dirt grimed clothes, setting her knife and pistols within easy reach of the tub. Glancing in the mirror she winced at a couple of the bruises. The one the temple guardian had given her by throwing her into a wall was going to hurt tomorrow. Humm. Maybe she could get in a hot soak in the tub before heading to the airstrip.
A slight thump and the sound of a moving chair brought her thoughts back to her unexpected companion. She had an unpleasant suspicion as to how an American got dropped into one of her expeditions to an ancient temple to dark gods in the middle of the Peruvian jungle. Some of the research done on the golden figurine she had brought back indicated that it had been used in rituals that involved people and things disappearing and appearing. Probably indications of some sort of transportation. And, she thought sighing and staring down at the cut on her finger that had bled on the statue, I think I know what set it off.
When she called Bryce after the shower she was going to have him make Xander a plane reservation. To wherever Xander's home was. Something in all of this didn't quite match up, but she wasn't sure what it was yet. The young man had given her some odd looks and his comment about where he had come from being complicated...well something was just off. But even so, there was a sense of good heartedness about him. From the way he had behaved under pressure in the catacombs, he had an uncommon mixture of good sense and bravery. Plus, she suspected, he had something of a white knight complex.
A short shower later she finished ringing the water out of her now unbraided hair. She wrapped the bathroom's towel around herself and scooped up her weapons in one hand and her clothes in the other. Opening the door and exiting the room, she walked toward the bed, where her bag of extra clothes sat. "The bath is yours," she said.
The poor man nearly swallowed his tongue when he turned from the table and caught sight of her. As he coughed, she proceeded to calmly open her bag and pull out a set of clean clothes.
Putting the clothes aside on the bed she turned her head to where he still sat, staring at her, and deliberately arched an eyebrow. "You don't want a shower then?"
Blushing, he pulled his eyes away from her, and jumped to his feet. At the bathroom door he paused, his back to her. "Is that the only towel?"
The thrown towel landed on his shoulder, still a little damp from her use. "Sorry, but we're going to have to share. I'd lend you some clothes, but I don't think they would fit." There was distinct irony in her tone.
From the glimpse of the profile of his face as he stared at the towel on his shoulder his eyes had gone very wide.
"Where are you from Xander?"
"Unh, Sunnydale, California."
The door closed behind him, and she allowed herself a chuckle; it was so much fun to play with people like that. Not to hurt, just to put them off balance.
Slipping the clothes on she pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail and padded over to the table. The remains of a small meal lay in front of the place Xander had been sitting. In front of where the other chair had been pulled up was a similar meal, waiting. She glanced at the bathroom door and murmured, "Thoughtful."
Taking a bite of the apple she flipped open the satellite phone's case, pulled out the earpiece, and punched in the number of Bryce's workshop in her mansion. It took a moment to connect, and then rang for six times before it picked up.
"'ello."
The voice was almost slurred. She frowned, "Bryce, have you gotten into the wine cellar again?"
"Lara? What...? No. It's two in the bleeding morning." His voice was sounding more normal.
"Ahh, oops." She didn't need to ask what he was doing in the workshop at this hour. If an idea got into his head you couldn't pry him away from the project with a winch. "Well. There was a little accident here; my information on the statue was incomplete."
"Incident?" There was worry in his tone. "Lara, how bad is it? What you call an accident most people describe in biblical terms."
He could probably her the wry smile in her tone. "Nothing too bad. I just managed to get an American transported out of a town in California and dropped onto me in the lower catacombs of the temple. Oh, and that temple guardian...it was much bigger than Ranaldis said."
"Neither turned out to be too much trouble?"
"Not at all, actually he's rather good looking."
There was a brief silence on the line before he said, "I'm going to assume you meant the American chap and not the temple guardian, though I'm not sure there's a whole lot of difference."
"Be nice. I'll get another seat on the flight out of Cuzco, but I need you to book him a flight home from the stopover in New York."
"Let me bring the web connection up...there. What's his name?"
"Xander Harris."
There was the sound of typing and of Bryce, muttering to himself. "Where is he going to?"
"Sunnydale California."
"I'm not getting anything with that name." More typing. "Hum." Another silence, more typing, and then, "Lara." His voice was almost hesitant. "As far as I can tell. There isn't a Sunnydale California. It doesn't exist."
Her eyes drifted toward the bathroom door, behind which she could hear the shower running. Putting her feet up onto the other chair she slumped in her own. Was he lying to her? She didn't think so, and if he wasn't, what was going on here?"
"Bryce, look back into the files I put together on the statue, and contact Ranaldis again. See if you can't dig up any more on it."
"Alright Lara. The plane ticket?"
"I'll deal with it."
As the line disconnected she could hear him mumbling something about caffeine, but she barely heard him. Her gaze was focused intently on the door, her thoughts on the person behind it. Mysteries had always been nigh irresistible for her.
"What are you doing here, Xander Harris?
Drying himself off with the towel, Xander tried not to think about who had just used it. He didn't need to embarrass himself any further. When she had walked out of the bathroom clad just in the towel...Holy God! No, no, he wasn't going to think about that. He was no longer a teenager and had gotten all that hormonal behavior out with Anya.
In spite of the startled urge to turn when the towel had landed on his shoulder, he had managed not to look. A minor miracle considering what he had seen with the towel on; in spite of the similarities Lara was definitely not Angelina Jolie. This lady was in jaw-dropping shape! She...
No! Stop it! Think about other things: like how the hell she's even here, or you're here, or something. Its gota have something to do with the statue.
He hung the towel over the shower curtain rod, looked down at his dirty clothes, and then sighing, he began to pull them on. Trying to remember what he knew about Lara Croft, he pondered over all the movie and game information tucked away in his head.
Daughter of English Lord...finishing school...plane crash...father killed by illuminati. Humm. The information differed between the movie version and the game version. Which one was she?
Well, she looks like Angelina Jolie. I'm betting the movie. So that means she has a butler named Hillary and a techno geek named Bryce.
Completely dressed now he stared at his reflection in the mirror and thought, I'm either hallucinating or in another dimension. If I'm hallucinating there's not much to do about it.
An unpleasant idea occurred to him. Or maybe the First is screwing with my head. Shaking himself he thought, there's not much I can do about that either. So I might as well tell her what I think is going on and see where the chips fall.
Sighing at his reflection he said, "Everything will work out Xand- man. You'll get back to good old Sunnyhell and everything will return to that nightmarish thing that currently parades as normal." He shook off thoughts of the hideous parody that life had become lately and turned toward the door. "Time to talk to the Tomb Raider."
In the outer room he discovered Lara casually slouched in her chair, and resting her feet on his. Her gaze was fixed on him, seemingly perfectly relaxed, but something told him that though she looked relaxed, she wasn't.
Seeing the satellite phone on the table next to her he put two and two together, and took a stab, "Talked with Bryce hunh?"
One elegant eyebrow lifted at Xander's use of the other man's name. "Apparently, Sunnydale California doesn't exist."
Xander winced, "I was afraid of that." He gave a little chuckle. "Of course, speaking in terms of your world, that's actually a comforting thought."
Lara's head cocked to the side and he heard her murmur, "My world..." She held up one hand and began to tick points off on her fingers. "You appear out of nowhere, apparently due to the activation of an artifact know for causing the unknown and unusual to appear. From how you keep looking at me I'm beginning to think you recognize me. You claim to come from some place that doesn't exist. You know about Bryce. And you refer to "my world." All of that adds up to a very odd conclusion."
She stopped, apparently waiting for his response to that.
Brushing his hand nervously through his hair he gave a chuckle that lacked humor. "Yeah, that's the story of my life." He stared at her, trying to figure out the right words to explain. "Well, this started, for me, when I was in Sunnydale. It was evening, and I ran into a group of vampires dragging a girl into a warehouse. They were doing some kind of ritual involving a gold statue, exactly like the one you had, and in the process of freeing the girl it broke. Next thing I knew I was landing on you."
Both of her eyebrows had gone up.
Xander groaned, "Yes, vampires are real. So-"
She cut him off with a slight smile, "I'm aware vampires are real. That wasn't what the expression referred to. It referred to you trying to save the girl. You do remember telling me you laughed in the face of danger then ran away, don't you?"
"Ahh, well...there was no one else there, and..." he trailed off at her growing smile. "What?"
"It just confirms a suspicion." The smile vanished and her expression became intent again. "Now, I don't think that you're one to read much about archeology, so how do you know me?"
"You...," how did you tell someone this? He drew in a deep breath, "You're a fictional character."
Her only response as she processed that, was a blink, and then, "Pardon?"
"You are a movie and computer game character. Well, computer originally."
There was a very long silence. "That is...bizarre." She stared into his eyes for a several seconds and then sat back even farther in her seat, her expression baffled. "I don't think you're lying to me and you're not joking."
Xander nodded. "I'm more serious than I usually am."
"Even on the list of things I've encountered, this is strange."
He made his way over to sit on the corner of the bed while she stared absently at the wall. Sitting there, he studied her face; she really did look like Angelina Jolie. Though the cheekbones were just slightly narrower, and her eyes were a darker shade of blue. The lips were the same and she was currently chewing on the bottom one, lost in thought. She was beautiful. Admittedly he'd been around beautiful women a lot: Buffy, Cordelia, Willow, and Anya...Anya.
How screwed up things had gotten. Not just between him and Anya, though that was one of the hardest to bear, but for everyone. Buffy and Spike. Tara dying, Willow going insane. Then the madness that had happened more recently: the First Evil itself deciding to go all or nothing, and everybody seemed to be losing it.
It was almost enough to make him not want to go back. I mean if this was a different world...well no end of the world going on here. But the other part of him, the part that kept him going in the face of all the crap that had been thrown at him said, no. No, you're not quitting. You're not giving up on Buffy, or Wills, or Giles. You'll get back there and everything will get worked out.
He almost believed it.
Staring down at his hands he abruptly became aware of Lara's gaze resting on him.
"Based on the evidence so far, I think it's safe to say that you're not from around here." A slight smile crept onto her face, "Because I am certainly not a computer game."
He felt an answering grin form on his face, "How about a movie?" She considered it for a moment. "Perhaps, if it had a certain level of class and style."
"I don't know about class, but it was certainly fun to watch." She absorbed that. "How much do you know about me?"
He considered for a moment. "Broad general knowledge, plus a lot of detail on a few...adventures."
"Then it appears you have the advantage of me."
"I suppose being from an alternate world does have its perks."
They hadn't the time to do much more in the way of talking yesterday at the hotel. Lara had seemed to take most of the evening to chew on the revelations he had already made. Encountering someone from a parallel world, a world in which you were a computer game heroine, was something guaranteed to make even Lara Croft take a momentary step back. She had asked a few more questions about what Xander knew of her, or rather the characters of her, and had spent the rest of the evening cogitating.
Come morning, she had declared that he would accompany her back to England, where she had access to many more resources, and that she would do her best to get him home.
Xander, feeling a vast sense of relief at having someone to help him, took refuge in his usual method of responding.
"Cool, I always did want to visit the land of tweed."
"Tweed?"
"Yeah. It's like your national cloth or something isn't it?"
"Not in this universe."
When they reached Cuzco city in the afternoon Lara declared that he was to get a new wardrobe for his stay in this world. She dragged him off into the city past all of the obvious shops. Dismissing them, when Xander inquired, as tourist traps. She pulled him into a small shop on one of the side streets. To be greeted warmly by the shopkeeper with an unintelligible, to Xander, burst of Spanish to which she replied in kind.
The shopkeeper, an aging South American gentleman with a laugh-lined face and streaks of white hair at the temples, took his measurements. Proceeding to retrieve various articles of clothing from the back rooms of the shop, which were then approved or vetoed by Lara.
When Xander asked if he got any input in this Lara's answer was a pointed glance at his current clothes and an amused "No."
He left the shop with a small duffle full of clothes, wearing the part of his new wardrobe that was designed for warm weather.
An hour or so later Xander stood in the Cuzco airport, waiting while Lara finished up with the ticketing arrangements. The new shirt and pants still felt a little odd: too...crisp. After a few minutes of speaking to the ticketing clerk Lara turned from the counter and handed him the small packet of papers.
"Lara?"
"Humm."
"For the clothes and the ticket...thank you. I don't quite know how I 'm going to manage to pay you back for them yet, but I'll figure something out."
"Don't worry about it."
"But-"
"Xander, I have more than enough money to spare for a ticket and a few extra clothes. Don't worry about it." They left the ticketing area and moved toward the gates.
"What I do worry about." She continued as they approached their plane's gate. "Is getting you through customs at the other end."
"Crap. I hadn't thought of that."
"Oh, don't panic quite yet. I have a couple strings I can pull if I have to."
Settling in on the plane, Xander stretched out in the seat. Oh, God yes. First class. Lara seemed to be highly amused by his expression of hedonistic delight.
"Hey, it's my first flight in first class, ever." He said, assuming an injured expression. "Not all of us are millionaire heiresses."
"Did you hear me saying anything?"
"No, but you were thinking it."
"Perhaps just a bit. Though it's nice to see things from a perspective of someone who doesn't have what I do. It keeps my head where it should be." She turned her head to the window as the engines powered up and the plane began to race down the runway.
Turning to Xander when the city was just a distant patchwork on the ground behind them, she studied him seriously for a moment. "Most people don't believe in the existence of real vampires any more than they believe in the multitude of other thing crawling around the world. What happened that you do?"
Xander flagged down the steward as he passed by in the aisle and inquired after something to drink. Talking to Lara for hours almost nonstop had dried out his mouth. He had started by giving her the basic rundown on Sunnydale but it had quickly become more than that. Lara listened. Xander wasn't sure anyone had ever listened to him quite like that, not even Wills. Back home rarely did anyone truly listen to him; there was always some kind of sub-context going on: we know more about this than you do, or your not smart enough to give any good ideas about this, Xander. Sometimes it was very subtle but it was there. Everyone was always surprised when he came up with a good idea, no matter how many times he did it. Lara, however, sat quietly, un-interrupting, as he spoke about the Hellmouth and the associated evils. Her gaze remained steady and intent never wavering from his face, attention never drifting, her expression occasionally changing as one emotion or another invoked by the story played over her features.
Maybe it was the attention or maybe it was her sympathetic listening: a quiet encouraging warmth that urged him to continue whenever he paused or faltered, but he found himself telling her far more than he intended.
The story of how he was introduced to vampires was hesitatingly drawn from him as he told her of Jessie, of how he had to stake his best friend. Sadness and sympathy flashed in her blue eyes, but she did not voice any platitudes. She seemed to understand that he was past that point; all he wanted now was to make sure that no one ever had to do something like that again. The barebones of the last seven years of Sunnydale history were outlined over the course of several hours, all leading up to the events of the present. He tried not to let his turmoil and frustration leak through in his relating of the current situation, but from the thoughtful look in her eyes he didn't think he had succeeded.
He just decided to go with the old orange juice route to slaking his thirst when the steward mentioned that dinner would be coming around soon. Proverbial ears perking up at the mention of food, he began to quiz the man on the menu.
Hellmouth. That was a new word in Lara's experience. The story Xander had told her was startling, amazing, horrifying, and shocking. It made her reassess her perceptions of the relentlessly cheerful, sometimes goofy acting, young man sitting next to her on the plane.
Lara knew of vampires, her rather unorthodox activities having brought her into contact with them more than once, and she knew of many other strange and terrible things that walked the night. Remnants from past civilizations and forgotten ages lay in the dark corners of the earth, but these things were few and far between, encountered only when she sought them out in pursuit of one goal or another.
She studied him as he grilled the steward on what the menu was for the flight. To be living practically on top of a doorway into Hell, that was held shut only by the most ethereal of chains. To remain there when the contents of Hell threatened to spill out over the world as an almost regular occurrence... She gave a little shiver. Her opinion of him just went up, sharply.
Xander's world had been saved by the members of his little group time and again. The things he had told her were amazing, but the things he had left unsaid were equally frightening. Lara was impressed by what they had accomplished and what they had endured, individually, and as a group. She was less impressed by many more recent decisions, though she understood them.
Ever since the crash and her traumatic two-week trek through the Himalayas had utterly changed her outlook Lara had been a firm believer in choices. Everyone was responsible for their own choices. You didn't have control of everything in your life, a good thing in her view, but you had control of what you did with the options you had. If you didn't like what you had become you had no one to blame but yourself.
Xander obviously wasn't the type to blurt out his friends confidences but Lara had always been very adept at reading between the lines; a skill honed to a fine art by her culture-hopping lifestyle. Learning to read people and events, both from what they said and left unsaid, had saved her life more than once. The implications she had read into the events happening in his world and, more specifically, the behavior of the people involved, were frightening.
The future of that world rested in the hands of a moderately self- centered girl suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder, a Wicca who had traumatic issues of her own and addictive tendencies, an unstable vampire just recently imbued with a soul, who had done more harm than good, and three or four others, all with serious issues of their own. God help them all.
It was early morning when they arrived in London. Reaching customs, Xander, lacking a passport and visa, was immediately shunted to a small featureless holding room off one of the back corridors. When the customs agent motioned for him to follow Lara said, "Go with him Xander. I just need to make a few phone calls and I'll get everything straightened out."
Almost an hour later Xander was beginning to get a little worried, not to mention bored of staring at white walls, when the door finally swung open. The middle aged official-looking gentleman who entered was followed immediately by Lara who gave him a grin and "thumbs up" behind the man's back. Xander felt his stomach do a little pleasant flip-flop at her grin, but didn't have much time to dwell on the sensation as the gentleman held out a couple pieces of paper to him and said, "Terribly sorry for the wait Mr. Harris. Lady Croft has arranged a visa for you for an indefinite length of stay. Welcome to England."
"Uh, thanks."
Turning to go he stopped at the doorway, "And Mr. Harris. Do try to remember your passport next time. It does tend to be useful when traveling internationally."
Xander looked after the departed man for a moment then raised an eyebrow at Lara, "British sarcasm hunh?"
"It's a trademark. Now come on, my bruises desperately want a bath and I suspect you're probably as tired as I am."
A short stop at the baggage claim later saw them at the curb just outside the terminal.
Looking around at few people loading bags into cars or crossing the street to the parking garage, Xander said, "Are you parked in the garage or should I try and flag down a taxi?"
Lara glanced at him with a slight smirk. "Neither, I've arranged for a car to be delivered."
"Delivered? What..."
Xander trailed off as, with a purring rumble, a silver Aston Martin pulled in smoothly to the curb in front of them. A young gentleman exited the vehicle and Lara stepped to meet him.
"Lady Croft."
"Hello, Greg."
She signed the papers he presented to her and took the keys. "Thanks for bringing the car out."
The young man gave her a cheerful grin. "It's what we do, and it was a pleasure. Not many of our customers have cars that are this much fun to drive."
"Glad you enjoyed it. Until next time."
"Lady Croft."
The young man gave Xander a nod before wandering off toward the shuttle station.
Lara stuffed her bag in back of the seat and paused, looking at Xander, who was still standing on the curb staring at the car. Leaning her elbows on the top of the car she just raised her eyebrows at him.
"That is an Aston Martin, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"That's so cool. A bond car." Xander was practically drooling.
"I thought you'd like it."
A few moments later as Xander settled into the luxurious seat and Lara turned the key in the ignition, she asked, "James was in the movie as well?"
"Hunh?"
"You said, Bond car."
"Yeah. Wait a minute, you mean..."
"The car was a gift from James." Xander stared at her, mouth hanging open. "Oh, and don't touch any of the buttons." She gestured at the dash. "He left most of the extra's in."
Okay, just another freaky, yet strangely cool happening. Not only is there a Lara Croft but apparently James Bond exists here too. Hum. I must be in British superhero world.
Xander watched the streets of London fade into the suburbs and then to fields as Lara drove them south away from the airport. She seemed lost in thought as she steered the car smoothly along the roads. The sky had begun to lighten with the coming dawn and Xander felt sandy- eyed with lack of sleep. A yawn cracked his jaw.
"It won't be much longer. Feel free to doze if you'd like."
He turned his head away from the window and toward her. The growing light illuminated her profile and he was struck again by her beauty.
"What is it?"
He realized he was staring at her. "I'm sorry. It's just this is all so surreal. This morning I was watching TV, and I caught a commercial announcing the new Lara Croft movie. Now, thirty some odd hours later, here I am, in England, with Lara Croft, and driving in James Bond's car. What would the guys..." He trailed off, a sudden lump in his throat.
Into the sudden silence Lara said, "I'll do my best to get you home Xander."
"Taking a deep breath he said, half seriously, "What, no promises?"
She gave a little sad smile. "I never make promises that I'm not certain I can keep. We have the statue that's at the root this all, but I can't be certain it will get you back, and Bryce is contacting the people who might be able to help, so don't think you are alone in this." One hand came off the steering wheel, took Xander's, and gave it a firm squeeze.
They sat in silence for a time as the car moved along the Surry roads. Xander gazed around as they passed woods, fields, and the occasional large mansion. Craning his neck he saw a group of horses gambling around in one of the fields.
"Do you have horses?"
"Yes, several."
"Do you ride?"
"That would go with having the horses. Yes." Her voice had a touch of irony in it.
"Hey, you're rich, you're British, and you're eccentric. You don't need a reason to have them."
"Eccentric am I?"
"In comparison to ninety-nine percent of the world population? Yes. Of course that doesn't mean that the ninety-nine percent doesn't want to be like you."
"I'll take that as a rather odd compliment."
"You should."
The car rounded one of the rolling hills and Lara slowed the car to turn into the gate guarding the driveway along the north side of the road. "Here we are."
They passed through the open wrought iron gate, bathed in the first touch of the suns light, and passed down the driveway. Xander had the impression, looking around, of the same types of fields and woods that he had seen all the way here. As they pulled up toward the manor he thought, Yup just like the movie.
"Here is your room Mr. Harris." The butler said as he opened the door.
"Thanks Hillary, and it's just Xander. Mr. Harris makes me think of my father, and I'd rather not."
"Very well."
Xander moved past Hillary and got his first look into the room. Whoa! Summed up his thoughts on the matter. Finely worked wood panels wrapped the walls of the room and the soft light of the lamps shone on their dark finish. A couple windows broke the one of the walls, and long sweeping drapes blocked any view of the outside. Several plush carpets interrupted the smooth expanse of the hardwood floor, in particular, one next to the bed and another in front of a stone fireplace. The veined and highly polished surface of the marble reflected the flames currently dancing in the hearth. The bed was huge, he could lay crossways on it and barely stick over the ends, and judging from the fine quality of the blankets it was probably really comfortable. In fact, given his current state, the bed was looking very seductive indeed.
"The washroom is there, and is stocked with everything you should need. Judging from Lady Crofts, requests, particularly after arriving home subsequent to one of her adventures, I've taken the liberty of drawing you a bath." Hillary gestured to the other doorway in the room, through which Xander could make out tiling. "If you have any other needs, I will be readily available. Goodnight, Xander."
"Goodnight, Hillary. And thanks again." Xander turned away from the outer door as it closed behind the butler. He looked longingly at the bed for a moment, and then turned toward the washroom. Drawing on his knowledge of Englishness from Giles, the bath was probably a subtle hint.
Hillary had met Lara and himself at the door when they arrived. Bryce was still asleep in his trailer, being sane enough not to be awake at five-thirty in the morning. Introductions aside, Xander had been witness to a rather restrained case of English style mother- hennery, as Hillary fussed over Lara.
"I'm quite alright, Hillary. Just a few bruises this time." Mock exasperation was in her voice, and there was clear affection in her features as she spoke to the man. "Is Xander's room ready for him?"
"Certainly, I've put him in the Hambly room. Your bath is waiting for you, so you'd best go straight up before it's cold."
"Bless you, Hillary, you're a Godsend." Turning briefly to Xander she said, "I'll see you when we've both had a few hours sleep. Goodnight, Xander." She had disappeared up the stairway ahead of them, as Hillary had guided Xander to his room.
Tossing his bag onto the bed he made his way to the washroom. Stopping in the doorway, he goggled again; the room was three quarters as big as the bedroom. There was a great abundance of light colored tile, and a number of plants sat about in various corners. A large raised bathtub dominated one corner of the room while sunlight streamed in through windows of that rippily glass that allows light through but you can't actually see anything in.
A moment later the words, "Jacuzzi tub!" Echoed in the bathroom.
Consciousness returned languidly accompanied by an awareness of being extremely comfortable in spite of several aches and pains. Stretching lazily Lara flipped off the sheets and comforter covering her. She glanced at the clock. One-thirty in the afternoon. Lying back, she turned her thoughts toward her guest in the room down the hall, and pondered the picture that was Alexander Harris.
Alexander. She'd always liked that name, though for some reason he hadn't explained, Alexander preferred to be called Xander. Ah, well, it was his name; she'd let him do whatever he wished to it.
He hadn't talked much about himself yesterday on the plane. Mostly he had spoken of his friends: Buffy, Willow, Giles, Dawn, and Anya. He had mentioned others in passing, but those people had taken the bulk of his words. Yet from what she knew of him already, learned in the last couple days, she couldn't see him sitting on the sidelines during the events he had described.
Either he was very modest, or he didn't think of his contributions as important. Lara was leaning toward the second. The signs were in his behavior; the self-deprecating sense of humor, the drive he had to protect his friends, the way the words had poured out of him with just a little encouragement spoke of little receptive audience, and when she had asked about his family, he had deflected the question with a far too practiced skill. It rang alarm bells in her head.
She wasn't certain, of course, but as long as he was here, she could provide a willing and friendly ear.
Which brought her to getting him home. Turning her head to stare in the direction of the vault she had deposited the statue in before she went to sleep, she frowned. The information Renaldis had come up with had been specific about how it worked, or at least how its previous possessors had used it. The summoning rituals always required a blood sacrifice. She looked at the healing cut on her finger. Something that small shouldn't have triggered it, but it may have been enough to create a connection between her version of the statue and the one from Xander's world. When the one in his world was destroyed...
Shaking her head, Lara cut off the train of thought. Useless speculating until she had more information. The mechanics of spell weaving and inter-dimensional travel were not her field of study. A slight grin crossed her features at the thought. If they were specifically anyone's.
Her stomach chose that moment to remind her that she hadn't had anything to eat since dinner on the flight from New York. Rolling out of bed she padded toward the washroom to prepare for the day.
Lara entered the kitchen, to find Bryce and Hillary both there: Hillary finishing putting together something on the counter and Bryce sitting at the table eating.
"Good afternoon, Lara." Was Hillary's good-natured greeting.
"Muurmphf." Bryce's was muffled by his current mouthful of food.
"Good afternoon, Hillary." She leaned down next to Bryce, and whispered into his ear, "It works better if you don't have something in your mouth when you speak."
Giving her a "look", Bryce gestured behind himself, toward the lab. "I talked to Ranaldis. He said everything indicates that the statue creates some sort of inter-dimensional transfer effect. But that unless you did some sort of ritual sacrifice it shouldn't have been a problem. So he doesn't know where the American came from."
"Already ahead of you there, Bryce. I'll talk to Renaldis later and fill him in on the details; I've a few questions that need to be answered."
Hillary, finishing up at the counter, moved to the table and set a plate of food down in front of where Lara had seated herself. "So you've managed to determine where Xander is from?"
"That's an odd sort of name." Bryce took another bite of his sandwich.
"Short for Alexander, and the story of where he came from is a rather interesting one." Lara proceeded to relate to them and edited version of what Xander had told her. Telling only the bare facts and leaving out any emotional content he had shared, inadvertently or not, with her.
Hillary and Bryce were both a bit taken back and sat, silent, thinking it over. Digging into her food, Lara let them cogitate. Bryce was the first to break the silence.
"If it wasn't for you bringing him here I'd say he was completely off his trolley." He looked at Lara, questioning.
"No, as far as I can tell, he's quite sane."
"I think that's even more frightening." Hillary said. "On several levels."
"So our task in this merry little adventure is to find out what happened, and..." Bryce said.
"Get him home." Lara finished. Hillary looked at her questioningly. "To play devil's advocate for a moment, but what if we can't?"
Sighing, Lara set down her fork. "I've been avoiding that particular thought. I feel somewhat responsible for his predicament; I believe I played some part in the statue's activation."
"Come on, Hillary, have you ever known Lara to not be able to do something she put her mind to?"
"Once or twice, but in general no." Hillary smiled. "But it's too early for pessimism. I'm sure everything will turn out for the best; it always does." He gave Lara's shoulder a squeeze. "More immediately, you need to finish eating. Keep your energy up. I believe I feel another bout of your globe hopping coming on. Which means I'll need to make certain your travel packages are all in order."
"Probably not a bad idea. I doubt the solution to this problem will be as simple as the statue in the vault."
As Hillary exited the kitchen Lara's attention returned to her plate. Momentarily, she became aware of Bryce watching her. Meeting his eyes with a raised eyebrow, she simply looked back at him, waiting.
"Lara..." he trailed off.
"Whatever it is, just spill it out."
"It's not really a completely formed idea. It's just... You may find the thought ridiculous."
She did occasionally find his ideas odd or inane, but she valued him far too much to every truly make fun of what he thought. Bryce was far too sensitive for her to do that, as she might with some of her more robust friends. He was family to her, and she may not agree with his thoughts, but she did want to hear them. "You know I won't make fun of your ideas. Just tell me."
"You say that, to Xander, we're fictional." He paused. "What does that mean for us exactly? If his universe is actually the real one..."
Lara considered him for a moment. "Are you concerned about not really existing? That this all was not just thought up in someone's head?"
"I guess so."
"I don't believe you need to worry about that. I think we're all equally real. Who's to say there aren't many universes? If I were God I certainly wouldn't feel like stopping at just one. After all, there are so many possibilities for existence to explore. No, Bryce. You are quite real."
A sound from the hall prompted them to turn toward the door and a moment later Xander poked his head into the kitchen.
"This place is incredible, Lara. I got lost somewhere back that a way and so far I've wandered through a pool room, a museum, a gym, and a library...and you would be Bryce right?"
Bryce had an odd expression on his face as he glanced from Lara to Xander. "Yes, that would be me."
"Cool. You think I might get a look at that seven foot tall robot sometime?"
"Simon? Certainly." His face began to light up as he started in on one of his favorite subjects. "Actually I was just going to..."
"Ah, first things first, boys. I need you to talk with Rambaldis, Xander. And we'll see if he can't be any help in getting you home. Then you can go to Bryce's lab."
Xander's stomach chose that moment to do an imitation of a tiger's rumble. Lara smiled as Xander looked embarrassed.
Remembering his appetite on the plane, she said, "But, even before that, I believe we need to find you something to eat, before your stomach turns cannibal."
"You do know what you've let yourself in for?" Lara said once they were out of Bryce's hearing range.
"What, with Bryce? Ah, don't worry. I have a friend back home he reminds me of. Except Willow's prettier, and a woman, and bit less of a geek...and gay...and...well okay, maybe their not so similar, but talking to him will still be the same. I won't understand half the sentences, so I'll just nod, smile, and look at all the really cool gadgets."
Her only reply was a chuckle.
Xander took a look around the room she led him to. There were a number of shelves laden with books and various other curiosities. On one shelf there was six inch high Egyptian statue, while on another was a model of a old sailing ship. He was willing to bet that the collection of objects around the room was worth a small fortune.
Lara walked around the massive mahogany desk and seated herself while motioning for Xander to pull up a chair.
Facing the large flat screen monitor, he noted the small camera lens visible on the top edge of the screen. Facing the monitor Lara spoke, "Ring, Ranaldis." Momentarily the screen activated and the word "connecting" appeared.
"Lara? Is that you?" The sound of the voice brought to mind some crotchety old man, and a moment later this image was confirmed as a picture appeared.
The man was old, as he looked to be in his seventies or eighties, with a long narrow face and a sparse beard that had gone all white. This silvered hair was wild and unkempt, looking like someone had assaulted it with garden shears, and spectacles covered his blue eyes. The eyes peering out from behind the lenses were not in the least wild or unfocused. They glimmered with a sharp, avid, intelligence as they looked through the screen at Xander and Lara.
"Hello, Ranaldis. Your information on the temple was just a little off this time." Lara's voice had a chiding note.
"Bah. You try piecing together exact information from millennia old scroll fragments and we'll see if you do any better. I warned you I expected to be wrong on a few points."
"Yes, but you were wrong by about fifteen feet and twelve thousand pounds when it came to the temple guardian. My pistols weren't terribly effective against something that big and when I fed it one of my C-4 charges, and I think I only gave it indigestion. Please do try not to be that type of wrong in the future."
"But you have it?"
"Of course. The statue is in the vault."
Sharp blue eyes peered through the screen at Xander. "And this is the American Bryce mentioned?"
"Quite. Alexander Harris, this is Marko Ranaldis. Ranaldis is a supplier of information and knowledge ranging from the ancient world into the realms of the arcane. If it was ever written, he can generally find it, translate it, and piece it together meaningfully. Of course, he charges a hefty fee for most of his services."
Ranaldis snorted. "I certainly do. My old bones have a need to be comfortable in this dreary world. Doing that properly doesn't come cheap." He paused, his eyes studying Xander again. "However, I must say I am curios about this latest wrinkle."
Lara sat straighter, appearing to hear something in the man's tone. "Has something else happened?"
The old man shook his head. "Answer me a couple questions first. What time did he appear? Be as specific as you can."
Lara raised an eyebrow consideringly, but complied. "About one in the afternoon two days ago.
"And you, Alexander. Tell me exactly what circumstances brought you here."
Xander glanced hesitantly at Lara and, at her nod, related his story once again. Ranaldis remained intent upon Xander's narration, interrupting several times to ask questions about small details. What did the fragments of the broken statue look like? What shade was the light that engulfed him? How long was he enveloped by it? And so forth. The grilling proceeded for about five minutes before the old man was satisfied. They watched as he settled back into his chair, mulling it all over.
After a few seconds of silence Lara cleared her throat.
"Don't pester me young lady. Never rush genius; all it gets you is crappy product."
"You're on my payroll..."
Ranaldis cut her off, saying, "I would be working on this even if I wasn't. This is, by some means, bigger than just a single American popping in from a parallel dimension. I would guess that the destruction of the statue in the other world unbalanced something important. Because when he crossed over, anyone and everyone with any kind of sensitivity felt it. What that means, precisely, I don't know yet."
He eyed Xander once again. "My contacts in the spiritual realms are, as you would probably put it, "freaking out." I can't get them to make any sense on the matter."
There was a moment of silence as Xander and Lara absorbed this. Xander muttered something under his breath, and all Lara caught was, "...stepped in it again..."
"Do you know of any way to return him home?"
Ranaldis shook his head. "No, and I wouldn't try even if I did. Not with the ether reacting the way it is. Not until I knew more."
"Then find out more. Do you have any idea of how long it will take?" Another snort emanated from the man. "No idea. Weeks to months, is my best wild guess."
"Months!" The word was forced out of Xander. "But the guys, they..." He trailed off and took a deep breath, coming to grips with the unpleasant truth: if Lara and Ranaldis couldn't get him home faster, than there was nothing he could do.
The gaze of the man on the other side of the screen showed a hint of sympathy and he could feel Lara's gaze from beside him.
"You can't speed it up, hunh?" Xander said.
"I'm sorry Alexander. Your friends will simply have to do without you until we find a way back."
Xander suddenly felt Lara's hand on his arm, a warm comforting weight, as he looked down at his hands.
"Do everything you can Ranaldis. I'll deposit to the usual account. Contact me again when you have anything."
"Wish me luck, I have a feeling I'm going to need it." The connection terminated.
Months, the word echoed in Xander's head. Anything could happen in that time. His friends could be killed, the world could end, and, he almost laughed at the thought, his job would certainly be gone. By that time he would be just another Sunnydale statistic: Alexander Harris. Age: 22. MISSING.
His parents wouldn't turn a hair; they didn't care if he was alive or dead, other than to berate him for one thing or another. Buffy... who knew how Buffy would react, given the way she'd been behaving. He heart was good, but... Maybe his disappearance would be the jolt that brought her back to herself. Maybe it would finish driving her over the edge. Willow would certainly be frantic. He just hoped she didn't go postal like with Tara. Granted, he hadn't been killed in front of her, but "missing" in Sunnydale was synonymous with "dead." Dawn. Xander probably had been one of the more normal people in Dawn's life. He had tried to be something of a constant for her during the crap being the slayers sister and The Key entailed. Here's to hoping this didn't shake her up too much.
Maybe his disappearance would help out Anya, at least. She could finally get rid of the last of the emotional baggage he had saddled her with. This might be the way to cut the last of the rather painful ties between them.
And Spike...who the hell cared what Spike thought, aside from Buffy. The bleached wonder should long ago have been dust from his point of view.
Xander wondered if they would figure out what had happened. If the girl he had saved got away...if she had she might be able to tell them. But that didn't mean anything. He was here, and from the look of things he was going to be here for a while.
Coming back from his thought he became aware that he had been sitting silently for quite some time. Lara's hand was still resting on his arm and she sat quietly beside him, a comforting presence.
Raising his head, he met her gaze. There was concern, sympathy, understanding, and one or two other emotions he couldn't put a name to. Gazing silently back, he felt a curious warmth, at her regard.
Whoa. Was his immediate response to the feeling. He was not going there. Lara had no interest in him. There was no possible way.
Suddenly embarrassed, he groped for something to say. His eyes landed on the screen and a thought came to him. "Lara, how much is this costing you? Ranaldis, I mean."
Her mind jumped ahead of his to where he was headed. "Don't worry about the money Xander. As long as you're with me it's not a concern."
His mouth worked for a moment at the firm statement, then, "Thank you, but I feel like I'm mooching off you. I should be...doing... something."
"Well, we can't have you "mooching", can we?" A grin began to creep onto her face. "I haven't had a new sparing partner on the practice mat in ages."
"Buffy?"
"Willow? I though you were going to stay at the hospital with..."
"Uh, yeah, been there since last night. And there's the not having changed since LA thing...needed a short break. Faith is there now."
"Oh, okay. She hasn't woken up yet?"
"No, still unconscious. Have you seen Xander? One of the girls broke the coffee table."
"Again? What is it with that piece of furniture? Every single time anyone enters the house the first thing they do is break the coffee table. I should buy spares to..."
"Uh, Buffy? Not one to interrupt a perfectly good rant, but..."
"Right, Xander. Um, he's...well...he's... I don't know where he is."
"Well, were did you last see him?"
"Here. It was...yesterday, I think. Or maybe it was the day before..."
"Two days! Buffy, you haven't seen him since?"
"I've just been really distracted with the Spike, Giles, and Robin thing. Not to mention all of..." There was a sudden crash and spate of shrieks and giggles from the living room. "Potentials."
"But two days! Buffy..."
"I'm sure he's okay, Willow. He said something to me about talking to Anya. After that he probably didn't feel like being in a house with a large group of teenage girls.
"Hey, guys?" Dawn stuck her head into he room. "Have you seen Xander anywhere? He was supposed to take Kennedy and me to the mall today. I can't get hold of him, and his cell phone is giving that out of range message."
As Dawn looked at the two of them Buffy's expression changed and Willow got an increasingly worried expression on her face.
"What is it?"
"Yes, thank you. Goodbye." Giles hung up the phone. "He's not at work. It fact he didn't come to work yesterday, and he wasn't in today."
"Oh God, oh God. The First must have done something and..."
"Calm down Willow." Buffy took hold of the agitated witch's arms. "He's gonna be okay. If the First has taken him we'll find him and get him back."
Dawn gestured wildly as she rounded on her sister. "We've checked everywhere, Buffy."
Buffy glanced out the window at the reddening sunset. "It'll be dark soon. We can get Spike to help look in some of the more out of the way places."
"If the First has hurt him I'll make it wish...well...it had never been first." There was a note in Willow's voice that reminded the others of what she had done the year before.
"Indeed. Though I believe we should exhaust all the avenues of inquiry before we assume the First Evil is behind this." Giles spoke up trying to defuse the anger building in Willow's eyes.
"Avenues. Right. Oh, I'll check the police reports and see if there's been anything." Willow exited the room to get her laptop.
"While the rest of us..." Buffy started.
The phone rang.
"Hello." Giles answered. "Yes, Faith. Alright, I'll tell Buffy."
"Tell me what?" Buffy asked as Giles hung up.
"The girl is awake, and asking for you."
Buffy burst through the front door followed by Faith. "Dawn." She called to the teenager who was on the stairs. "Get the potentials together I need to talk to them all."
Looking into the dining room she saw Willow still on her computer. "Willow..."
"Buffy, I think I found what happened to Xander."
Buffy's words died on her lips as she took in Willow's expression. The police reports. Please, God, let it be just that he got picked up and needs to be bailed out.
God apparently wasn't listening.
"Red?" Faith looked between Buffy and Willow. "Something's happened to the Xand-man?"
"Willow?" Buffy spoke, the single word a request.
"A young girl was picked up by the police. She told them that she had been kidnapped by a group of men with "ugly, distorted, faces" and that they had taken her to a warehouse. It looked like they were going to do some kind of ritual, a sacrifice or something. But a man matching Xander's description interrupted and freed her."
"What happened to Xander?" Faith voiced the question.
"The report says she told them that a statue they were using in the ceremony broke and Xander threw her away from him...just before there was a flash of golden light. When it was gone, so was he. Buffy, we have to go examine the statue and the warehouse to find out what happened."
Buffy's face was blank as she stared at Willow.
"Buffy?" Dawn's voice came from the living room.
The lines of her mouth tightened and Buffy said, "I don't have time for this."
The utterly stunned look on Willows face lasted just a moment. "Buffy this is Xander..."
"And we're trying to save the world, Willow. The First is up to something with a guy named Caleb and we need to find out what. Xander will have to wait." She turned and walked back into the living room.
Faith stared after her for a moment before glancing back at Willow, who's face showed a roil of emotions passing over it. Following Buffy, she muttered, "Things are even more screwed up here than I thought."
Xander hit the mat hard enough to drive all the air out of his lungs, stunned, he lay on his back gasping for air. Getting his breath back he looked upward into the frowning countenance of Lara.
"You fight vampires?"
"Yeah, seven years now. Multiple bruises and scrapes to show for it, but only one broken bone."
"Remarkable."
"Hey! You don't have to sound so surprised."
She stared down at him seriously for a moment then crouched down next to him. "Xander, to be brutally honest, your fighting skills are terrible. So, yes, I am surprised." She looked at him contemplatively for a moment, and then continued, "So, we'll just have to remedy that, won't we?"
He groaned. "More bruises?"
She grinned at him. "Probably, but not today." Taking hold of his hand, she stood, pulling him to his feet. "Go on. As I remember, you wanted to "check out" Bryce's entertainment system."
"Thanks for the reprieve."
"But remember, same time tomorrow."
Lara dropped the workout clothes into the laundry hamper and crossed the room to the shower. Not that she'd worked up a terrible sweat throwing Xander around the mat, but she did prefer being clean.
It was strange, Xander's lack of fighting skills made no sense. He had been living, virtually in a combat zone, every night for the last seven years and no one had ever given him lessons in any form of hand-to-hand combat. She would have thought it was the obvious thing to do. Buffy, this so-called Slayer, or Giles, should have taken it upon themselves to give Xander the tools to survive on the Hellmouth. Yet they had done nothing, practically throwing him to the wolves as it were.
Certainly Xander had made his own choice to fight, and he should have taken some action to learn, but his friends who had the skills, should have helped him. Could they be so self-centered that they didn't see the danger Xander's lack of skill put him in? According to Xander they had tried to push him away from the fighting and out of "danger". She found it impossible to believe that anyone who was friends with him could miss-judge his character so severely. Once Xander knew of the battle, there was no way he was going to stay out of it. All their pushing him away had done was to isolate him and put him in more danger. It was bloody amazing that he hadn't been maimed or killed.
The more she learned of Xander's "friends" the less she found herself liking them.
Lara was a little surprised at how angry she was. She hadn't known Xander for very long, yet somehow he had already gotten under her skin. She liked him; there was a good-natured, irrepressible sense of life about him. His sense of humor didn't hurt either.
She would be damned if he was going back into that hellhole without as much preparation as she could give him. No, bloody well not.
Finishing up in the shower she dried off while considering the problem. Slipping on another set of clothes she moved to the study. A sudden thought popped into her head and a smile crept onto her face. Yes, that would do nicely. Reaching for the phone on the desk she took a moment to recall the number and then dial.
<Hello. Akahito? This is Lara. I'm quite well thank you, and how are you? And your family? I'm glad Sachi is doing so well. I have a bit of a problem at the moment, and I believe you are better suited to assist than me. You see...> (In Japanese)
Minutes later Lara hung up the phone. On problem attended to. Now, what else can we work with? She settled back into the chair contemplating what the best method of preparing Xander would be.
Once you got past the whole geeky factor, Bryce was pretty cool. Not that Xander was one to talk about geeks. His best friend was one after all, and he had been "in" with that crowd for as long as he could remember. Bryce was a good guy, he just didn't relate well to people.
Hillary was a combination of the quintessential English butler and something else Xander had yet to quantify. The man always showed up where you needed him, with what you needed. After the fifth time he popped up before Xander could even ask for something, Xander determined he was either psychic or he had the whole mansion under surveillance.
It was getting toward evening, the sun lowering in the sky, casting long shadows over the woods and meadows around the Mansion as Xander walked slowly along one of the trails through the wood. He could see the building though the trees every now and then as they thinned out here and there. The only sounds were the rustle of the wind in the leaves, the low buzz of insects, and the occasional call of a lone bird.
It was different in Sunnydale. The woods weren't really all that different, but the underlying aura of darkness and fear that could be felt in the forest about Sunnydale was absent here. It made taking a walk a whole different experience.
Certainly removes the whole fear-of-horrific-death-after-darkness- falls thing, Xander thought.
He was feeling rather contemplative. After the statement by Ranaldis, yesterday, that it would possibly be months before he could go home he had fallen into something of a funk. Lara had let him brood yesterday but this morning seemed to have taken it upon herself to pull him out of it. Her method had been quite direct, and he had the bruises for evidence. They hadn't spent long on the practice mat, just enough time for Lara to gauge his fighting ability. She hadn't been impressed.
Stopping on a slight rise where a beak in the trees allowed him a view of the mansion, he gave a bitter chuckle.
What was there for her to be impressed by, really? Usually when he staked a vampire it was because he had surprise, or it was distracted, or a very new vamp. His thoughts turned even darker as her remembered what he had told Anya once when he'd had the, Spike inspired argument with Will and Buffy. He had said, "I'm not sure they're wrong."
Some part of him deep down still wasn't sure. Even after the things he had accomplished since. Did he really amount to anything?
He didn't know.
The next morning Lara waited for Xander to arrive in the practice room and watched Akahito Daishi move gracefully through the forms. The old man was an expert in the martial art of Aikido, a sixth degree black belt to be precise. Lara had saved his daughter, Sachi, three years ago from a rather dangerous situation involving the Yakuza. The old man insisted that he owed her a great debt, and Lara had kept in touch over the intervening years.
The problem of training Xander had brought Akahito to mind. A human fighting vampires hand-to-hand was generally not the brightest of ideas; vampires were, in general both faster and stronger. Aikido, however, was based upon using your opponent's own force to defeat him. To a point, it didn't matter how much stronger the person you were fighting was than you, a person skilled in Aikido could still beat them. Also fortunately, most vampires didn't know how to fight in the first place.
She knew it worked from personal observation: once seeing Akahito go through a pack of vampires in a matter of seconds. Dusting the last before the ashes of the first had even settled. There hadn't been a single wasted motion, he had just seemed to flow, a human whirlwind.
Xander entered the room, pausing briefly at the sight of the old man. Lara watched as he approached her. In spite of his smile she saw the brooding look had returned to his eyes. She was going to have to work on that.
As Xander arrived Akahito smoothly ended his kata's and glided over to them.
"Xander this is Akahito Daishi. He's going to be teaching you for as long as you're here."
"Oh, ah...okay."
She smiled at his hesitation. "My particular style of fighting is not the most...effective when dealing with things like vampires. Akahito is going to show you a better way."
"Hajimamashite, Alexander." The old man's accent was pronounced, but his words were clearly understandable. "Lara has spoken to me of your fight against the darkness. It is a noble thing that you do, of which I highly approve. She has asked me to teach you Aikido so that you may accomplish your goals more effectively."
"Aikido, a la Steven Segal?" At their blank looks he said, "Okay, no Steven here. But him aside, isn't Aikido supposed to be defensive?"
The old man said, "Is not keeping yourself alive a most excellent goal? For you cannot complete your task if you are not still living to accomplish it. Shall we begin?"
Akahito stepped away onto the mat, and Xander, glancing once at Lara, followed.
Bryce glanced up from the circuit board he was soldering as Xander gimped into the room. The young man was moving slowly, and was looking like someone who'd just had the tar beaten out of him.
"What happened to you?"
"A little Japanese guy."
"Oh, Akahito?
"Yup."
Bryce stared at him a moment longer then shook his head. "Lara tried to get me to learn it, but the physical stuff isn't for me, it's just too painful. Any fighting comes along I have SIMON take care of it."
"A very sensible attitude, I'm beginning to think. Do you know where Lara is?"
Bryce gestured with the soldering iron. "Check the kitchen. Last I saw of her she mentioned getting something to eat."
"Thanks, man." Xander limped back out.
Xander entered the kitchen to find Lara at the table. Seeing what she was eating, in spite of his battered state, he smiled.
"Beans on toast?"
"Of course." Her mouth quirked. "I can't eat caviar and truffles all the time."
Wincing, as he sat down he said, "I don't think I've ever had that particular combination before."
Lara slid her plate, with the remaining piece, sideways to sit in front of him, and watched as he began to eat it. After a few moments Xander became a little uncomfortable under her silent scrutiny.
"Daishi Sensei is brutal," Xander said, breaking the silence when his arm gave a particularly violent twinge.
Lara continued to say nothing.
"You know, the silent stare gets a little unnerving after the first minute or so. Care to share what's behind it?" Popping the remaining bit into his mouth, he looked back at her.
Lara, apparently deciding something, stood. "Come on, I have something to show you."
She stopped in the door when she realized he was still sitting at the table. "Is there something wrong?"
"Ah, sorta. You see, I'd really like to come with you," he said, giving her a pained smile. "But I can't seem to get up."
Walking wasn't actually too bad, Xander reflected as he followed Lara. It was just that he he'd better not sit anywhere unless he wanted to be spending a long time in that particular spot.
She led him to a room toward the back of the mansion and, unlocking the hardwood door, preceded him in. Looking around the room Xander glanced at Lara in confusion.
It wasn't a large room, but it still resembled many of the other rooms in the mansion: hardwood floors, tasteful and exquisite furniture, and a shelf of books along one wall. The one oddity in the room was the carefully stacked files and papers that occupied the coffee table at the center. There were note pads filled with handwritten notes amongst the stacks, and a number of what looked to be textbooks as well.
Baffled, he looked from the table to her as she leaned back against the desk that occupied space next to the bookcase.
"Um, guessing there's a point to this...but not knowing what it is."
Lara gestured toward the chairs around the coffee table, so Xander hesitantly sat. The chair was one of the comfortable stuffed kinds, which you could sink into. He noticed the subjects of the files on the table tended toward astronomy and science. Reading one of the titles of the books he looked up when Lara's voice broke the silence.
"Four years ago, on one of my expeditions, I broke one of my legs. I managed to get out of the situation with some effort, but knowing what my little jaunts are like, you can imagine that I wasn't in any shape to continue. Unfortunately, not getting the artifact wasn't an option. If the others who were searching procured it, the results would have been...unpleasant."
She gave him a tight little smile that spoke of a quiet pain. "I called on two old friends, who had in the past, worked with me and they agreed to go out after the chalice. It took them almost two months, and they were out of contact for most of that time."
Her voice lowered a little. "And one of them didn't come back."
Xander felt a swell of sympathy at the grief in her voice. Her eyes gazed blankly at a point in space for long seconds before she seemed to shake herself out of the memory. Turning back to him she gestured around the room and to the table in front of him.
"During those two months, I was forced to deal with something I had a very hard time with. Impotence. There was nothing I could do for my friends. I didn't know where they were or how they fared, or even if they were alive at any specific time. They were in danger, I knew that, but knowing it meant nothing. Not having family that I wish, or they wish, to have anything to do with, makes my friends very important to me, Xander."
Looking into Lara's eyes Xander saw sympathy, and a clear understanding of his own frustration. He swallowed, his throat suddenly very tight. She broke their gaze and looked down at the papers on the table, giving him a bit of privacy to get a grip on the unexpected emotion, and the room was silent for a moment.
She gave a little laugh. "I believe I drove poor Hillary quite insane. Finally, I couldn't endure waiting anymore and I distracted myself," she pointed to the table. "Learning something I was always interested in, but had never had the time, in amongst my other projects, to pursue."
Xander looked down at all the clutter on the table. The parallels between that situation and the one he was in now were pretty obvious. He was a bit surprised by her taking the time and effort to try and lift up his spirits, though he supposed he shouldn't be. The last few days had shown him that movie and the game barely began to give a picture of the person that was Lara Croft. She was fiercely caring and loyal to those whom she considered friends. Staring down at his hands, he wondered if he had somehow been penciled in on that list.
Hearing her move, he looked up to find her standing in front of him.
"I have a question for you, and it's not one you have to answer now. Just think about it. If you had the option of doing anything: traveling someplace, learning something, anything. What would it be? What do you want to do, Xander?"
If he understood what she was offering to do for him...
"Lara, I'll be okay. You don't have to..."
Lara put her finger over his lips, cutting his protest off. "No, I don't have to. But I am."
Stepping back from him, she moved to the doorway, and paused in it. Looking back at him, her gaze was serious, and her eyes had turned that darker blue shade he noticed they did when she was feeling strong emotion. "If you feel the need to talk something out, vent frustrations or worries, or simply need to not be alone...don't hesitate."
Xander stared into the empty doorway after she left. The lump was back in his throat, and he swallowed, unsure how to deal with the sudden rush of emotion.
"Okay." His voice was quiet, in the now empty room.
The next morning he was back on the practice mat dreading what was about to happen. The torturous stretching session Sensei Daishi had just subjected him too had been surprisingly beneficial. It was no longer agony to simply move. Unfortunately, he suspected that today was going to see him in the same condition as yesterday. Sensei must have noticed the expression on his face as they faced each other on the mat because the old man smiled.
"Alexander, the pain will pass. It is a temporary state in passage to something better."
"I know. It's just that when I woke up this morning, it took me twenty minutes to get out of bed."
"I push you hard, Alexander, because Lara has explained to me that you do not know how much time there will be to learn, and the opponents you will face are beyond the ken of most who learn this art. You cannot afford to learn in the same manner as others who practice the Way of Harmony. There are not years in which to perfect your form."
"Well, we hope not anyway."
"Enough, back to the lesson. Strike at me again, Alexander."
Xander lashed out as quickly as he could at the Sensei, aiming for his center of mass. He had held back at the beginning, thinking he would injure the old man, but had been quickly disabused of the notion. None of his punches ever connected.
The old man slid to the side and Xander's fist passed within centimeters of his chest. The hand he set upon Xander's wrist was gentle, barely exerting any force at all, but Xander found himself being whipped around with his own momentum. Suddenly there was an arm in the way of where his neck was and the next instant he was falling backwards, only to be caught by the sensei's hand.
"That is another simple example of what you will be learning. It illustrates the first lesson I taught you yesterday. Which was?"
Xander remembered that one instantly; when sensei had said it yesterday it had seemed the most sensible piece of fighting advice Xander had ever heard. "Move out of the way."
"Correct. It does not matter by how much, just as long the strike misses you. Move into you attacker's center; take control of it. Not even a vampire or demon will be stronger than you, if you have both their strength, and your own."
Releasing Xander the old man stepped back and said, "But first you must be taught proper balance, and how to fall. From yesterday, I see your instincts are good, but they require much refinement. So let us begin.
The soft knock on the doorframe brought Lara's attention out of the legal documents on the desk in front of her. She paid well to have her financial matters taken care of by a professional firm she trusted, but still preferred to look over the end products herself.
"Akahito. Come in."
The old Japanese man entered the room and seated himself across the desk. Lara observed that he seemed...thoughtful.
"Is the lesson with Xander over?"
"Yes, he is progressing well. Surprisingly so."
"Surprisingly?"
Akahito considered the question for a moment. "When Xander thinks about his responses to actions, he is..." pausing for a moment, he put it delicately. "Quite clumsy. It would be possible to train him out of it, but oddly it does not seem to be necessary. When he does not think his reflexes are those of a prodigy."
Lara's eyebrows went up. "Explain."
"It is as if his body already has some memory of what is appropriate in the situations I am putting it in and needs only a little prompting to remember accordingly."
"Like he has already had training?"
"No. There is no connection with his mind. It is as if his body was once trained separately from him, and then given back. He will remember no skills because he has none to remember. But his body responds as if it does."
"Is this good or bad?"
"Both perhaps. If his body must unlearn something it will slow him down. I think it will, for the greater part, make his training far faster than it would normally be."
Lara paused, considering this additional odd shaped piece to the puzzle named Alexander Harris.
"Willow, what are you doing?" Dawn glanced from the paraphernalia on the table to the witch, who was seating herself in front of it.
"A locator spell."
"For Xander?"
"Yeah."
Dawn looked nervously at the stuff on the table. "I want to find him too, but are you sure casting it is a good idea? The last time you did a locator spell with the First around, it didn't turn out so well."
"It'll be fine Dawn. I'm not trying to locate the First so it shouldn't take any notice."
Dawn stepped back to the wall as Willow began the incantation. Buffy, Faith, Spike, and the potentials hadn't returned yet from assaulting the vineyard and trying to find what this Caleb person had of Buffy's.
The incantation finished and...nothing. Willow was staring down at the tabletop with a very worried expression on her face.
"Willow?"
The witch's eyes came up to meet Dawn's and she felt a creeping coldness in her gut at the look in them. Willow's voice was mixture of tension and worry as she spoke.
"The spell has a range of greater than the diameter of the planet, so the statue transported him to another planet, another dimension, or it..." She trailed off.
At the look in the witch's eyes Dawn felt tears sting her own. "No. He's not dead! It's one of the other two; it has to be. We just need some way to find out."
Willow seemed to rally and said, "I need to examine the statue. If I can find out what kind of enchantments were on it. I can find out what happened to him."
"Then we'll go "borrow" it from the police tomorrow."
"No, Willow, we don't have time to spare for this. I need you to help figure out what this Caleb guy is. He beat us all easily. It was like fighting Glory again. You were the most effective person against her, and until we figure this out you may be the only person to be able to keep him off us." Buffy looked away as one of the potentials called her name from the next to one of the hospital beds. "I need you here, you can't be chasing off after Xander right now. We'll deal with that all after we have this figured out." The blond slayer walked way toward the potential that called her.
Willow and Dawn looked after her. Dawn's face was angry, while Willow's was a mix of emotions: worry, stress, fear, and a touch of anger.
"We'll just do it without her, Willow." Dawn's voice was determined.
"No, you won't."
The two turned as Faith's voice came from behind them.
"What, are going to go running to Buffy about it? Like I care what she says at this point?" Dawn said.
"Whoa, D. Not what I meant. I don't think B's entirely right on this one. Getting Xander back could be important." The dark slayer looked almost uncomfortable. "Plus I owe Xander a bit, and I've done a fair bit of lifting in my time. Being a slayer just makes it easier. I'll get the statue from the police."
"You, are coming with me to the party."
Xander glanced up from his book, blinking in surprise. "Um, okay. What party?"
"My aunt is having a formal engagement party for one of my cousins tonight." A grimace passed over her features. "Unfortunately, I promised that I would attend."
"From your expression I'm thinking this is not high on your fun list."
"I would rather have teeth pulled."
Xander thought for a moment, remembering the background information he knew about her. Over the last couple weeks, he had come to understand that her history was a strange medley of the movie and the video game versions. When he spoke it was a little hesitant, not wanting to poke at any sore spots. "Didn't your family sort of disown you?"
"Yes." She seemed quite cheerful about that particular fact. "After Daddy went missing I stayed on the "proper" path for an English lady for some time, until the plane crash in the Himalayas. After that, what had once seemed so important just felt shallow. I realized my life wasn't going to mean what I wanted it too. So, I changed." She sounded amused as she then said, "The rest of the family wasn't too happy with that."
"Okay, you're going because you promised. Why am I going?" The grin on Lara's face widened. "Because, if I'm there with a "date", as you Americans like to put it, I won't have to deal with the Earl of Farringdon."
"Earl of...oh. The one your family wanted you to marry?"
"Quite."
A thought occurred to him. "I'm gonna have to dress up for this aren't I?"
Lara shrugged. "Generally I don't care much about dress codes and such. But at this sort of event it is expected."
With a sigh Xander closed the book. "When do we leave?"
"Six this evening. Hillary will help you get ready."
"I can dress myself."
She smiled at him. There was humor in the expression, and he thought he saw a touch of affection as well. "Humor me."
"Yes, ma'm."
A moment of silence held in the room as they looked at one another then Lara, breaking their gaze, glanced at the grandfather clock against the wall. "You had better get ready for your lesson. Akahito hates it when people are late."
Xander saw the time on the clock. "Oh, shit." He bounded up from his chair and as he exited the room he heard Lara chuckling behind him.
Xander groaned as he made his way back to his room. After two weeks of daily sessions the habitual soreness he experienced after a practice session was barely noticeable. This, however, was not the case today as Akahito had introduced something new. Walking down the hall he tried to stretch his back. It felt like he had pulled something.
"Xander? Are you alright?" Lara's voice came from down the hall in the direction of her rooms.
Glancing ahead he saw Lara walking down the hall toward him. "Not really; did something to my back."
Reaching him she turned him around and began to probe gently at the muscles of his back. A hiss escaped his lips as she hit one of the ones he had strained. Making a small sound in the back of her throat she guided him to his room.
"Lie down and take the top of the gi off, " she said pointing at the bed.
"Lara you don't have to..."
"Lie down."
Moving gingerly Xander did as he was told. Lying there, he could hear her moving around in the bathroom. The sound of water beginning to fill the tub reached his ears and then he heard the clink of the medicine cabinet's door. A moment later he felt her on the bed next to him. She worked with the something she had taken from the medicine cabinet for a moment, and when she laid her hands on his back this time there was something on them.
Lara was silent as she worked. It was something Xander had noticed about her, she usually talked only when she had something to say, and she never rambled on. When she spoke it was usually eloquent but with an economy of words. A strange contrast to what he was used to with his friends back in Sunnydale.
Whatever it was she was putting on his back had been cool at first but now it felt warm, almost hot, and the sensation was sinking into the muscle underneath.
As she began to knead deeper into the muscle Xander spoke, "Sorry about this."
"Sorry? Why? Did you get injured on purpose?" There was a note in her voice he couldn't quite place.
"No. I'm just don't want to cause you any trouble. You've done all this stuff for me, and I don't...I always seem to be causing my friends and family problems."
Her hands had stopped.
"Alexander."
He started at her use of his name.
"Helping you is not trouble, it is not a bother, and it is not a chore. You are not an inconvenience. Helping my friend is a pleasure, a joy. It is not something I find troublesome or tedious. I'm not doing this out of any obligation. You are welcome with me. You can come to me for anything, I may not give you the answer you would like, but you are always welcome."
She fell silent, her hands resting on his back. Then spoke again, "The water's shut off, go wash. Do you still feel up to going?"
It took Xander a moment to drag his mind away from her previous words to realize she was asking about the party. "Yeah. I've gotten worse than this from vampires and gone to party at the Bronze afterwards. No problem."
"Xander, if you're injured I don't want you feeling worse than you do now."
"I'll be fine, really."
Her hands were caressing the skin of his back. "Alright. Hillary will be in after you bathe, to help. And I need to get ready myself."
Her hands left his back, and her weight the bed. Xander rolled to look in her direction as she left, barely realizing his back wasn't nearly as sore as it had been. Staring at the door he could still feel the touch of her hands.
"Bloody bastards!" The hurled shoe thumped against the wall before dropping to the floor.
Hillary, who had just entered the room, paused and said, "I assume you're not talking about your aunt and the Earl?"
"Xander's "friends" and family in Sunnydale."
"Ah. I had noticed..." He trailed off, then sighed. "I had hoped I was wrong."
"You weren't."
Lara turned back toward the clothes laid out on the bed, thinking.
Damn them.
She had, in pieces, gotten more and more out of Xander over the two week he had been staying with her. Slowly she'd been putting together how the people in his life treated him. Xander didn't see it, not really, he was loyal to a fault. The apology he had made a short while ago, in the bedroom, had just forcefully brought it home to her. It had been slightly more abstract before, just piecing together the puzzle of his actions and life.
Xander had seemed to think he had done something wrong by being hurt, as if he didn't deserve the care or attention she had been giving him. She'd seen people like that before. Their behavior was the result of parents that abused them and told them that it was their fault, even as they were beating them. Too often the children came to believe it. And his friends. His friends had fed the conditions inside him that his parents had begun, with both words and actions. Xander seemed to have fallen into the patterns set for him, and justified his friend's behavior by thinking he deserved it.
Their actions had all probably seemed quite logical to the so- called "Scooby Gang." Of course that kind of behavior usually did to those who perpetrated it. Probably they didn't even realize the harm they were causing.
They should have been paying more attention, and if it was deliberate...well, someone was going to get hurt.
Lara shook her head, if she did or didn't meet Xander's friends was irrelevant. She was going to break this damnable cycle of abuse. When she was done he was going to feel confidant enough about himself that he would never take that kind of treatment again. From anyone.
Hillary watched Lara closely for long moments as she began to get her garments ready. Her movements were angry, savage. He could understand her reaction, as he had grown to like the young man himself, but she seemed even more distressed than he would have thought.
She was devoted to her friends, but even considering that, she usually didn't resort to tossing things about the room. That sort of physical expression just wasn't her normal response. Usually she would just take any frustrations out in the practice room.
Perhaps, he thought, there was more in her feelings for Alexander than even she realized.
Xander waited at the bottom of the stairs. Hillary had gone up to help Lara with her dress a few minutes before. His back didn't feel too bad; Lara's massage plus whatever she had put on it had really helped. He shrugged again, testing the muscles, and the silky material of the shirt and jacket whispered against his skin.
He fingered the soft black material of the jacket, willing to bet that this tuxedo probably cost more than his first car. Another gift from Lara. She had given him so much since his arrival, and not just material things.
What she had said to him, no one had ever... Not even Willow had ever said something like that to him, not straight out. He was having a hard time getting a grip on how he was feeling. Lara seemed to have a talent for kicking up his emotions, not in a bad way, just... confusing.
"Ready for the most boring night of your life?" Bryce emerged from his workshop.
"I can't imagine spending time with Lara being boring."
"Normally I'd agree with you, but the crowd your going to see has a unrivaled ability to suck the life out of a room." He glanced up toward the top of the stairs. "Oh, here she is."
Xander turned, and seeing Lara standing at the top of the stairway, his brain promptly disconnected form his vocal chords.
Her dress was black, armless, with a fairly modest neckline in front, but left most of her back bare. Her shoulders were covered by a matching shawl, and a string of diamonds glittered at her throat. As she descended the stairs he could see the dress was slit up the sides of her legs to about mid thigh. What looked like some kind of silver cord bound her hair into a loose coil that draped over one shoulder. As she reached the floor he caught the amused twinkle in her eye.
"Well?'
"Ah...uh..."
Bryce gave him a friendly thump on the back, as if to a recalcitrant machine that wasn't functioning properly.
"Gorgeous!" The single word finally came out.
Lara chuckled as she took his arm, and said. "Not terribly eloquent, but I think one of the more honest compliments I have received in a long time. Shall we go?"
"James."
James Bond turned from the railing of the balcony to face the familiar voice and, for the first time since arriving at the party, his smile turned genuine.
"My dear Lady Croft. It is truly a pleasure to see you." Reaching out he took her hand bringing it to his lips.
"Would that have anything to do with the reason you're out on the balcony, instead of inside?" There was a teasing note in Lara's voice.
"I haven't the slightest idea of what you're referring too," he said. While at the same time several of the people inside the mansion came to mind. "You know nothing could possibly keep me away from one of your aunt Lillian's celebrations."
Lara laughed, "I'm surprised you got that out with a straight face."
"Practice, my dear, practice."
She watched him as he took a sip of his drink, and he caught her gaze from the corner of his eye. She looked beautiful tonight but then, he reflected, it would take a serious effort for her not to look so.
He'd known Lara for many years, and could still remember her being waist high and calling him Uncle James. Even without her mother Lara had been a bright and curious little girl with an endless font of questions. Her father had encouraged her curiosity and had urged James to do the same. She had turned more serious and focused when her father disappeared. And he had visited her regularly, remembering his own childhood without his parents. Away on an assignment when her plane had gone down in the Himalayas he hadn't know what had happened until after. He rushed to see her as soon as he could arrange the time away with M, and he had encountered a very different young woman.
After all these years he knew her moods quite well, and if he wasn't mistaken...
"James?"
There it was. "Yes, Lara?"
She hesitated for a moment, rare behavior for her. "I have a bit of an odd story to tell you, and a favor to ask."
He felt a welling of curiosity; there wasn't much that caused Lara to behave with any uncertainty. Over the course of the next several minutes he felt quite a number of odd expressions cross his face. When Lara fell silent he leaned back against the railing of the balcony, staring absently at nothing. After a moment he felt his martini removed from his grip. Returning his gaze to Lara, he watched as she took a sip, and then he spoke.
"You're quite sure about all of this?"
"Entirely." She looked back at him over the rim of the glass. "Will you?"
James leaned to the side a little so that he could get a clear view in the door to see the people in the ballroom. "Which one is he?"
"Tall, dark hair, brown eyes, Royal Line tuxedo..."
"I see him." A pause. "Hum."
She caught his sideward glance. "What?"
"You left the poor man in there alone."
"After demons and vampires, anything in there should be a Sunday social."
"Four words: Aunt Lillian, Cousin Miriam."
Lara took a step backwards to see clearly into the ballroom, and winced. "Well," she said, looking at the two women who had cornered Xander. "If they're holding to pattern they should switch from polite conversation to interrogation any moment now."
She turned back to James and silently raised an eyebrow.
Looking back he asked. "Do you want to go rescue him, or shall I?
Lara sipped the martini and said, "You've been out here longer than I have."
He sighed, and pushed off from the railing. "Right then. Once more unto the breach."
Xander glanced around, taking in all the glitz and wealth. He didn't think he'd ever seen so much money in one place in his life, and that included TV. It was a party like he had seen in movies; waiters moved through the groups of people taking empty glasses and carrying new trays, tables carefully ornamented with foods he only vaguely recognized were scattered here and there, and everywhere he looked were people in wildly expensive clothes with jewelry abounding.
"God, a Harris in high society." He muttered. "Don't look now but I think the devil is buying ice skates."
In the drive from her estate Lara had coached him on what to expect. First he'd been a bit tongue-tied. The reason being he was sitting in a limo with one of the most exquisitely beautiful women he had ever met. It had faded quickly however as Lara treated him exactly the same wearing the dress, as she had before. As she explained more about the people at the party, he was nervous. It was worse than social status at high school. The thought gave him pause, and a little perspective. Did he really care what anyone there thought of him?
Lara had raised an eyebrow at his change in demeanor.
"Well, we're here on your behalf," he'd said. "Do you want me on best behavior, or just myself?"
Her smile had been brilliant. "I wouldn't want you to be anyone but you. Most of my relatives would do well to take notes."
Arriving at the party about a half hour ago, Lara had walked him through the introductions. They'd gotten several odd looks from various people as they moved about, Lara holding Xander's arm. Apparently it was uncommon for Lara to show up at these occasions with someone.
Lara had left a few minutes before, saying she wanted to find someone. Promising to be back shortly she'd taken off toward the other side of the room.
Glancing over the food on one of the tables he chose to forgo the food, and picked up one of the glasses of wine. Sipping it he compared to the cheep brands he had tasted before. Hum. Good, but it didn't seem too much different. He smiled a little, except for the price tag.
"Alexander." The voice came from behind him.
Turning, he found himself facing two of the women Lara had introduced him to earlier. The dreaded Aunt Lillian, and the other was...shorter...dark wavy hair...ah, that was it. Miriam, Lara's cousin.
He remembered Lara saying something about titles and such, and considered it for a moment. Nah, he was American. Why not play it to the hilt?
"Ladies." He gave them a cheerful grin. It was clear they didn't quite know what to make of him. That was all right, he didn't think Cordelia's little possey had either, so they'd just lumped him under looser. He wondered where these two would fall.
"So you are an American? Aunt Lillian said so." Miriam asked.
"Yep, one hundred percent. From Sunnydale, California"
"How did you happen to meet Lara?" The question came from Lillian.
So that was the game. They were trying to sound out his relationship with Lara. She'd warned him something like this might happen. He'd asked how she wanted him to respond to such questions and she had said, "I don't care how they think of me Xander." She'd given him that mischievous grin of hers. "Have fun."
"We met kinda by accident, or maybe it was kismet, fate." Xander appeared to think about it for a second then shrugged. "Anyway, she broke my fall."
Miriam blinked, baffled. "Your fall?"
"Yeah. You really gotta watch those ritual altars; slippery suckers."
"Ah, well..." The young woman seemed at a loss.
"So your acquaintance with Lara is recent?" Lillian picked up the slack.
"Fairly, but its been an intense couple weeks. Believe me, I've got the bruises to show for it."
Silence met that statement, and he could imagine what they thought he meant by it. Of course, that's why he'd said it.
"Excuse me, ladies." A voice that raised the hairs on the back of Xander's neck came from behind him. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt. But I need to borrow Alexander."
A hand took hold of his elbow and guided him away from the two women. Turning his head to see his rescuer, he felt his eyes widen a little as they confirmed what his ears had told him. He was walking next to James-freaking-Bond.
"From the expressions on their faces, I think, perhaps, you may not have needed the assistance." The man glanced at Xander, who was gaping like a landed fish. Smiling he extended his hand. "My name is James, James Bond. Though from what Lara's told me you already knew that."
Xander took the hand and shook it. "Xander Harris. Very pleased, and a little awed to meet you."
That reply raised an eyebrow. "Not the usual response."
Xander opened his mouth, closed it, and gave a little shrug. "If you saw it from my perspective..."
James gave him a look that was part measuring, part curious as they reached the table where the drinks were being made.
In response to Xander's questioning glance at their destination he said, "Lara has conscripted my drink. Would you like anything?"
"No, I'm okay. " He said, holding up his glass of wine. James turned toward the drink mixer and, as Xander restrained himself from speaking the words along with him, said, "Vodka Martini, shaken, not stirred."
As they waited for the drink, James studied Xander silently. Shifting under his gaze, Xander asked, "So what exactly did Lara tell you?"
"A great deal that if I wasn't aware of many of the more unusual... individuals around the world and didn't trust Lara implicitly, I wouldn't have believed a word of it."
Xander nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
James took his drink and they made their way to the balcony doors. As they stepped into the cooler night air Xander could see Lara at the railing.
She turned to the two of them. "Escaped?"
"Actually, I was kinda having fun." He grinned cheekily at both of them. "To risk sounding completely American...which, hey, I am. Some of you British people are really easy to mess with.
James and Lara looked at each other, and Lara drawled out a, "Really?"
Lara left the railing and sauntered up to him. Draping an arm around his shoulder, her hand on the back of his neck she pulled him close. Xander swallowed, suddenly very aware once more of how beautiful she was. She was wearing some fragrance he didn't recognize and he could feel the warmth of her body as she put her mouth near his ear. Her breath was a soft burst of warm air that sent a shiver through him. "And am I easy to "mess" with?"
She pulled her head back to look at him from just inches away, waiting for a response. He was having trouble accommodating; his brain wasn't putting the proper words together.
"Lara, there you...oh." The woman's voice came from the doors into the ballroom.
"Lara didn't pull back from Xander, she just turned her head and asked, "Yes, aunt Lillian?"
The woman was flustered, but she covered it well. "That's quite all right Lara, it can wait." She made a swift exit.
Xander could see Lara's profile as she looked after her aunt. A slight smile hung around the edges of her mouth and her gaze sparkled as she looked back up at Xander.
A throat cleared behind them, and James asked, "If you are entirely finished Lara, there are more questions I'd like to ask."
"Certainly." She pulled back moving slightly to the side, her hand still resting over Xander's shoulder. The continued weight of her arm and the warmth of her at his side were unexpected. But Xander found it pleasant. His stomach did a little quivery flip-flop as he glanced down at her beside him. No, not unpleasant at all.
Lara pushed back from the desk and wrinkled her nose in disgust. The minutiae of financial matters were never any fun. But then, that was the price of having a great deal of money: you had to keep track of it. For the most part she paid an accounting firm to deal with it, but she still felt better if she was at least aware of everything that was going on, so she periodically went over her accounts. A tedious process at the best of times.
She stared down at the papers for a moment before one of the account numbers caught her eye. The Ranaldis account.
Reaching down she pulled it out from beneath the other papers it had been obscured under and her thoughts turned, as they so often had of late, toward Xander.
It had been almost a month and a half since Xander had been, quite literally, dropped into her life. Ranaldis hadn't yet found the answers to Xander being here, at least not that he had shared. The last several times Lara had spoken with him he'd said that he had collected information that suggested some very disturbing things. And no, he wasn't going to explain, not without being completely sure.
Lara's patience was growing thin and she hated having to keep giving Xander the news of the lack of progress.
There was a tiny bit of guilt at not pushing Ranaldis harder, and she shied away from examining the reason she hadn't. She wasn't ready to admit it to herself.
Realizing she'd been staring at the absently at the piece of paper in her hand for at least a minute she shook her head. She needed to clear her mind. Maybe a pass on the shooting range.
"Aw, come on James." Xander wheedled 007. "Can't you get me in just for a half an hour?"
James glanced sideways at Xander as he steered the Porsche along the Surry road. "M would have my skin if I let you within a half mile of headquarters, knowing what you do. And I'm rather fond of my skin."
"But it's a movie where I come from," Xander said. "She can't blame me."
"Knowing M, that's debatable."
Xander sighed and settled back in his seat, but the grin still clung to his face. Ever since the party a month ago James had been a consistent visitor to the mansion and had been spending a fair amount of time with its newest resident. Xander figured that it had something to do with Lara; even given the situation he didn't think he was fascinating enough for James Bond to take such an interest in.
Glancing over at the man driving the car Xander reflected that, like Lara, the movie version of the person that he knew from his world was not the reality here. There were similarities of course, but the differences were there as well. Actually, he thought he liked this James Bond better; this one was an actual person.
On the other hand, the fact that James had been teaching him "spy stuff", as he liked to think of it, certainly didn't hurt.
They had been getting along surprisingly well. There had been a single hitch, however, and the grin faded from his face as he remembered it.
Where, in the movies, James's relationship with Moneypenny had never approached any serious level, here it had become quite serious. They had actually gotten engaged.
"You're engaged?" Xander had exclaimed.
James's voice had been quiet as he'd said, "Yes we were."
Missing the warning sign Xander had said, "Were? So you're not now?" he shook his head. "A monogamous James Bond would just have been too..." He'd trailed off as he'd looked at James's face.
After a moment of silence James had said, "The engagement wasn't canceled. She died."
Sighing softly, Xander returned his attention to the present, as James turned the car onto the lane onto Lara's estate. Why did the bad stuff always happen to the people who least deserved it?
"So, Red, anything?"
Willow glanced up at Faith from where she was hunched over the pieces of the statue. True to her word Faith had taken the pieces from the police's evidence holding area the night before. Now she, Willow and Dawn were settled in Willow's room at the Summers residence.
"I'm getting traces of something," the look on the witch's face was uncertain. "But it's not anything I've ever felt before."
Dawn asked, "You've never seen this kind of magic before?"
Willow hesitated.
"Red?"
"I'm not sure... It doesn't feel like magic." The witch began to babble. "I mean it has to be, because that's the only thing that could have made Xander disappear like that, but it doesn't feel like magic. I mean there is energy there, I just can't identify-"
"Willow!"
Willow took a deep breath. "Sorry Dawn."
"Okay Red," Faith spoke up. "So you don't know exactly what it is. What do you know about it?"
The witch looked down at the pieces spread on the bed and slowly began to speak. "Well, while I can't identify exactly what kind of energy it is, it does feel familiar in one respect."
At Willow's pause Dawn prompted her, "And that is?"
Willow took a deep breath. "The portal that opened when you..." she trailed off.
Dawn had gone pale. She swallowed and said, "You mean this statue sucked Xander into the portal. Into Glory's dimension."
"I don't know for certain," she paused, then continued. "But that's what the energy feels like."
Faith was looking back and forth between them. "Uh, guys? Details?"
Willow glanced at Dawn and hesitated.
Dawn looked silently at Faith for a moment then said, "It's okay, Willow. If you're right about that," she gestured at the fragments on the bed. "Then it's something she's going to have to know about anyway."
Faith asked, "Does this have something to do with that Hell Goddess stuff that went on a couple years ago?" At their startled looks she shrugged and said, "Angel would occasionally pass news of the big stuff to me."
Willow nodded and said, "Yeah, but it's not the part that Angel would know anything about. See-"
"I'll tell her Willow," Dawn interrupted. "It's about me after all."
As willow sat back Dawn began to speak, "You see, there were these monks..."
Faith sat straddling the backwards facing chair, her chin resting on her crossed arms on the top of the backrest. She hadn't said a word since Dawn had stopped talking a few seconds before.
The Witch and the Key glanced at each other as the Slayer's silence continued, until Dawn said hesitantly, "Faith?"
"Hun?" Faiths head came up and she seemed to jerk out of thought. "Sorry, Dawnie." She grinned as Dawn winced at her use of the pet name. "So, you're this mystical key that breaks down the walls between dimensions. Cool. If it weren't for my ability to kick ass, that power would be even cooler than mine."
Willow looked surprised. "You're taking this pretty calmly. I expected you to be a little more..."
"Psychotic?" Faith suggested with a slight smile as Wilow trailed off. Then she shrugged. "I'm not exactly five by five with the fact that someone messed with my head. But it's not like what they put in really changed my life any. So, you two are the ones with the magic, is there any way the you can put your heads together to-"
The bedroom door opened and Buffy poked her head through, saying, "Willow-" She stopped as she saw all of them. Willow made an abortive attempt to cover the statue pieces on the bed but stopped, realizing the futility.
Buffy stepped the rest of the way in and, her brow furrowing, asked, "What are you doing?"
Dawn's voice was bordering on confrontational as she said, "Trying to find out what happened to Xander."
Buffy's frown grew. "Willow, I thought we agreed that we would deal with this after."
"No Buffy," Willow said. "We didn't agree. You decided you didn't want to try to find him."
Looking a little hurt Buffy said, "I want to find him Will, we just don't have time right now. The world is at stake, Xander has to wait."
"I don't know if it can wait B," Faith said. "With him disappearing right when things get toughest, it's a good bet the First is involved. And if it wants him gone then probably he could really hurt it if here were here."
"Xander?" Buffy's look was incredulous. "The First is just trying to distract us Faith. Xander doesn't have any abilities that would worry the First. He's irrelevant to the fight."
"Buffy!" Willow looked indignant. "Xander may not have helped in the fighting much over the years, but he's our friend. We can't just abandon him in..." She cut herself off.
Faith looked between Buffy and Willow a baffled expression on her face and mouthed, "Xander, irrelevant?"
Buffy looked from Willow to Dawn at the witch's sudden silence. "In? So you have found out what happened? Spill, you two."
Dawn and Willow traded looks, and Dawn gave a little shrug. As if to say, what the hell.
Willow spoke, "It looks like the statue opened a portal and sucked Xander though."
"A portal?" Buffy looked between the two, seeming to see something she didn't like. "To where?"
"The energy feels like when Doc opened the portal to Glory's dimension."
Buffy, staring at Dawn as Willow made that statement, immediately said, "No! Absolutely not."
Faith blinked and looked between the two sisters as they argued over some idea they had communicated without words.
"Yes," Dawn said. "He's my friend Buffy! I won't abandon him!"
"It's too dangerous. In case you've forgotten it took your blood and me dieing last time."
Dawn jerked back as if slapped.
"Buffy-" Willow began.
"And you," Buffy said rounding on Willow. "Are you as sure about him as you were about me? No! This is not happening."
The silence in the room was absolute.
After a moment Buffy broke it. "You three come down to the living room. Everyone else is gathering. I know what to do do about Caleb and I need to tell everyone what to do." She turned and left, leaving the door open behind her.
Into the silent room Faith said, "Well. Hile Buffy."
Faith stepped onto the porch and immediately glanced to where Giles stood staring into the darkness. The watcher had a sad, troubled expression on his face. As, faith reflected, only made sense. Considering he had just backed up everyone else against his slayer, the young woman he considered a daughter. Which had resulted in her being outed as leader of their little group and then when she couldn't work with them, vanishing into the night.
She hesitated, still nervous about talking to the older man. Gee, she thought, maybe because you tried to kill him and his a while back. Faith thought that she probably had a better idea of exactly how dangerous Giles could be than the Scoobies.
"Is there something you wanted, Faith?" His voice broke into her indecision as he spoke without turning around.
"Wow, good ears Jeev... Giles." Probably best to cut out the names at the moment, considering the circumstances.
She saw the profile of his half smile as he said, "Of everyone in the house only you and Buffy move that silently. And Buffy..." he gestured out into the night.
When he stopped speaking he turned to look at her and waited silently.
"Oh, right," Faith paused for a second then asked, "Is there some spell or something on Buffy and Willow about Xander?"
Giles's face showed concern. "Not that I am aware of. Is there some reason to suspect so?"
Faith shrugged. "It's just that they seem so oblivious to what's in front of them. They keep saying he's useless, but it's obvious, even to me, that neither of them would be here without him."
"Ah," Giles said. "That," he sighed heavily. "Faith, very often, unless we are careful, we become blind to the people we are closest to. We know them, so there is no reason to truly look at them. And as time goes on, and they change, we hold the same image in our minds. Until, at last, something jolts us out of our complacency and, seeing them for the first time in many years, we realize that we haven't truly known them in a long time."
After a moment of silence Faith said, "Sounds like that comes from experience."
"Perhaps," he looked down at the porch. "I think that Willow, Buffy and, even to some extent, myself have come to see not what is there, but what we expect to be there." He smiled a little sadly. "I do wish I had told Xander that he meant a great deal to me. In spite of knowing him for seven years now, I don't believe I ever told him."
His voice was sad, and Faith suppressed the urge to tell him not to give up on Xander quite yet; Willow had told her not to tell Giles that they were doing anything because of all the related problems last year with Glory and magic.
Faith wasn't sure that was such a good idea.
Xander stepped out of the Porsche and as he closed the door James's voice questioned from behind him. "Best vantage points?"
Xander swept his gaze over the face of the mansion and across the fields and woods surrounding it. Then spoke, "One of the upper story windows at the corner, because it offers the best field of view, or in the trees to the right, because there isn't any good cover from them."
James had been quizzing him like this for the last several days. Every new place they went Xander had to answer as to the best vantage points, escape routes, objects best used as cover or weapons, and so forth.
When Xander had first noticed James sneaking little exercises into the day he had said, "Don't get me wrong, I think you teaching me this is just freakishly cool, but I'm not a spy, I don't need to know this."
James had merely replied, "And living on a Hellmouth is less dangerous how?"
So Xander had shut up and concentrated on what James was teaching. Which was surprisingly easy; not only did the spy seem to be able to make just about anything interesting, but Xander found that what James taught him seemed to bring things up out of his subconscious that he didn't know was there. He thought maybe it had something to do with the Halloween soldier experience. It wasn't memories or skills that came to the front, just wordless impulses to add to what James was showing him. Occasionally he would catch a considering glance that James would give him after he improvised on something the spy taught him.
"Good," James said as he came round the car. "Two points to add. One, never sweep the area openly like you did unless you are deliberately trying to broadcast it to someone. Always incorporate the movement into something you would naturally do. Opening the door for example. Two, you missed one excellent vantage point." The spy pointed. "You can see the hill crest through the trees there."
Xander squinted. "That's gotta be more than a thousand yards."
James shook his head and said, "It doesn't matter, with the right equipment, I know a number of people who could put a bullet through your skull from that position." He smiled a little. "Both Lara and myself among them."
Xander considered the hill again and said, "If you say so. The two of you have been showing me to shoot, but that... Not even close."
"Give it time and effort, Xander. You've been practicing for what? Three and a half weeks? Give it time."
In response to Xander's dubious glance James clapped him on the shoulder and started for the entry.
The door opened before they reached it.
"Good afternoon Hillary."
The butler held the door open. "Mr. Bond. Xander."
"Hey Hillary."
As Xander passed the threshold the sound of a gunshot emanated from behind the mansion. As a few more sounded in quick succession Hillary said, "Lady Croft is out riding the shooting range. She was working on the accounts today."
A faint smile creased the butler's face as the two men before him made identical sounds of understanding, and then glanced at one another in surprise.
A grin crept onto Xander's face and, turning, he continued into the mansion, leaving the other two looking after him.
James's hands found his pockets, and Hillary, after a moments contemplation, said, "He does tend to rub off on one." The butler's expression turned to one of horror. "Just this morning I found myself craving a Twinkie." At James's amused expression he said, "Wait. It will happen to you too."
Hillary followed after Xander and, chuckling quietly, so did James.
Lara pulled the tack and saddle off Cyrus. The roan's were still streaked with sweat and he pulled eagerly for the food and water she had placed just out of reach in the adjoining stall.
She whacked him gently on the side. "Patience you glutton. Let me get you brushed down, hum?" The horse seemed to settle a bit. "And you know you're not cool enough to drink that yet."
Retrieving the brush she began to work him over, murmuring and speaking softly to him the whole time. The horse leaned into the brush as she drew it down his sides.
"Lara? You in here?"
The voice brought an immediate smile to her lips and the tenseness that remained, in spite of her ride and practice, fled.
"Right hand stalls, Xander!" she called out.
Cyrus nudged her with his head, trying to get her to start brushing again. She chuckled and re-started.
"What is it with you girls and weapons?" Xander's voice came from behind her. Looking over her shoulder she saw he had picked up the shotgun from where she had set it while she finished with Cyrus. "Buffy's all down with stakes, swords, and axes. Basically all things sharp and pointy. You, however, seem to like the boom sticks."
"A girls best friend," she said. Gesturing to a second brush that hung on one of the hooks in the stall she continued, "As long as you're here why don't you take care of Cyrus's other side."
As he set down the gun and then went for the brush he said, "I thought our best friend was dogs?"
She turned back to the horse and said, "That would be man's. We women need-"
Cyrus twisted his neck around and began to nibble on Xander's shirt. "Stop that!" She thumped him on the neck. "He doesn't have any food. You'll get your dinner soon enough."
"It's okay," Xander said and patted the horse on the flank. "Hey there big guy. Your just real hungry, aren'chya? I know how that it." The horse chuffed in agreement.
As Cyrus settled down they began to work in companionable silence. Lara found herself feeling unusually happy and relaxed. Finishing her side she moved over to help Xander with his.
"Here," she said as she observed his technique. "Like this."
Xander lay in bed, his hands clasped behind his head, and stared at the patterns of moonlight that filtered through the cracks in his curtains.
It had been a good day. Seeing interesting people and places with James, and coming back to the mansion to spend the evening with Lara. He contemplated the warm glow inside at the thought of her, and made a sound of despair. Oh, he had it bad.
He muttered into the darkness, "I always go for the demonic or unobtainable ones."
He thought, on one hand that it would be the weirdest mismatch of personalities between the two of them. Her: upper class, cultured, extensive knowledge of many subjects, and well... British. That should say it all. Him: American, pop culture, not much knowledge except carpentry, demons, and the weird happenings of the Hellmouth. He would have thought this equaled oil and water.
Yet it didn't seem to matter with her. He'd just spent three hours discussing the nature of good and evil. And most stunning of all: he'd enjoyed it. Discussions with her weren't dry and scholarly, they were vivid and interesting. Everything with her was vivid and interesting.
Lately, with the guys back home- He paused as the though hit him hard. The guys. A touch of guilt crept into his thoughts. He'd been thinking about them less often as time passed. Natural, he knew, but he still felt guilty about it.
Was the situation with the First resolved yet? It had been a month and a half, by now it was like over with, for better or worse.
He hoped it was for the better.
Lara frowned while contemplating the folder in front of her. There were rumors of a dark artifact surfacing in central Africa. Something she had been keeping a watch for since she had first heard about it several years previously. There were a great many people who would want to have it for the power it would provide. People who shouldn't have it.
Hillary stepped into the study. "You wanted something Lara?"
"Yes, Hillary. Get out the standard travel kit. I'm going to Africa."
"Africa?" Came Xander's voice. "What's in Africa?" He entered the room even as Hillary left.
She smiled a welcome at him. "A great many things, but of immediate interest..." She slipped a photo out of the folder and slid it toward him.
He walked around the desk next to her and looked down at it. Lara found herself acutely aware of him as he stood next to her. It was a pleasant feeling.
"Whoa. Ugly thing. What is it?"
Xander's question jerked her attention back and she replied, "No one is entirely sure."
"Hunh?" Xander switched his gaze from the picture to her. "Then what do we do with it?"
Lara didn't miss the "we" in his sentence, nor did she miss that he appeared to use it utterly unconsciously. Yet she simply replied, "We keep anyone else from possessing it."
"Why? I'm guessing it does something bad."
Lara's voice was dry as she said, "One could say that. Chaos and destruction inevitably follow where it appears."
"Chaos and destruction, hunh? That's what all the big bads say. It's all hot air." He frowned. "Mostly."
"In this case Xander it's not hot air," she said. "There is considerable evidence to indicate that at least three civilizations were destroyed by this object, or forces associated with it."
He looked at the picture for a long moment and then his eyes turned to meet hers. "So, you think Hillary can put together an extra kit?"
She looked back into those brown eyes and, warmed by his offer, said, "Are you sure? This is going to be dirty, dangerous, and fun only to an adrenaline junky like me."
That lopsided smile that was beginning to make her heart do little flip-flops reappeared, and he said, "You should know by now that I don't let the people I care about go into danger without my support. At least not when I can help it." There was a moment of deep silence as he held her eyes and then he spoke again. "Besides, I've done dangerous and dirty. Being covered in demon slime on the Hellmouth isn't exactly clean or safe, and I happen to think that going anywhere with you would be fun."
"Alright. Go catch Hillary and tell him to pack another."
After Xander vanished out the doorway Lara sat staring after him, feeling on her face the traces of the smile that just wouldn't leave.
"A bit of a problem."
Xander looked up from the bag he was packing. "What?"
Lara gave a little shrug as she came to stand by the bed. "A small war seems to have broken out in the Congo. Adjacent to where we want to go. The governments of the various countries are putting bans on travel."
Xander frowned and asked, "What does that do? Can we still get there?"
"Not without a little help," Lara said. "I don't have the right contacts. However, we both know someone who can get us in."
"We both-" he broke off. Then said, "James."
"Yes, and..." she trailed off, staring at the contents of his bag. A single eyebrow arched and her gaze rose to his. She didn't say a word.
Xander shifted uncomfortably under her half incredulous half amused stare and said, "Hey, as long as we're there..."
In the living room Hillary and Bryce glanced at one another in bemusement as the distant sound of Lara's laughter drifted down the stairs.
In response to the other man's unspoken question, Bryce said, "With Xander, who knows."
Xander grimaced as the plane shuddered and bounced. He wasn't prone to motion sickness under normal circumstance, but this was just a bit much. He turned away from the window, which presented a view of the African continent spread out below, and glanced wistfully at Lara.
She was propped up against one of the crates that filled the cargo hold, her head pillowed by one of the blanket rolls, sleeping serenely.
As one of the two prop-engines sputtered, coughed, and then resumed its normal deafening roar, Xander crushed a touch of envy. The fact that they were currently on a cargo plane that had seen better days, and was probably older than any of them, didn't seem to faze her a bit. A couple hours ago she had suggested to James and himself that they get some sleep; they probably wouldn't get much at their destination. Then she had settled back and closed her eyes.
Even when one of their engines had briefly cut out she had merely opened one eye, glanced out the window, and then, as the pilot got it started again, closed it and adjusted her sleeping position.
Apparently, her plane crash hadn't taught her to fear flying.
A hand on his shoulder got his attention. Looking up he saw James holding a cup toward him. Taking it he sipped. Water. He started to hand it back but James shook his head. Bending down the spy put his mouth near Xander's ear so he could hear him.
"Drink it. We're going to have to be careful of our water supply from now on. Never pass up safe drinking water."
As James sat down opposite Xander and Lara, Xander finished the cup. On part of the flight Lara had explained to him all the various nasties he could get from contaminated water, in cheerful detail. And could he just say, "Gah!"
He'd thought the supernatural stuff was disgusting.
He looked again at James as the spy gazed absently out of the window close to him. The man was dressed in plain, durable clothes, nothing fancy, new or too "expeditionish." Xander reflected that, in those clothes, James would probably blend right in with everybody else. Undoubtedly the point.
His gaze wandered to Lara's sleeping form. Her clothes were of a similar nature; obviously picked both not to draw attention and to be utilitarian. His heart gave a little hitch as his eyes wandered over her face. Though, at least from his perspective, it would be impossible for her to "blend in" anywhere. It almost wouldn't make any difference if she wore the same type of outfits as her fictional self.
He felt a smile creeping onto his face as he remembered her reaction to his description of what the video game and movie versions of Lara wore on various expeditions.
"I wore what?" Her expression had been incredulous. "Doing what?"
He'd grinned then too, and asked, "So you're saying you couldn't do it?"
She'd glanced at him dubiously. "Oh, I could probably could, but I'd do it in pants. I like having skin on my legs."
His attention drawn to those portions of her anatomy by her words, the thought had immediately popped into his head: and such lovely skin, too.
The plane hit another pocket of turbulence as he thought, stop that, you're the Xander shaped friend, not the Xander shaped boyfriend. Think Buffy-like relationship, he reminded himself.
Sort of. He frowned as he contemplated the contrast between the Slayer's behavior and Lara's.
Sighing, he set his head back against the crate and looked out the window.
James watched as Xander stared out the plane window, obviously lost in thought, as he'd stopped flinching at the odd noises the plane's engines continued to make.
He hadn't missed the expression that had flitted across Xander's face as he looked at Lara. It just reinforced his suspicions.
A young man in love.
The question was now, what did Lara feel? He switched his gaze to the sleeping woman, going over her behavior in his mind. He'd observed certain signs over the last week and unless he was very wrong, she was finding more than just friendship in her heart for Xander.
He felt a mild brush of amusement at the thought. So many men had tried to win her heart. They had tried with money, power, and excitement. They had tried with poetry, art, and romance. But in the end what seemed to be the winning combination was a goofy sense of humor, a lopsided smile, a surprisingly insightful mind, and a heart that was filled with a simple uncomplicated caring.
"Uncle" James smiled. All in all, he approved.
Ranaldis leaned back in his chair, barely feeling the various aches and pains now so common in his aging body. It didn't make any sense.
The oracle had been very specific, but the text was stating something entirely different. He muttered to himself, "The unbalanced scales."
He froze as a thought struck him, and then snatched up the book in front of him to peer at the notes scribbled in the front cover.
"Oh, blasted-" he hurled the book back to the table. "Wrong damn copy!" The author had been known for the numerous errors in his early translations and for the many rewrites he'd been forced to do.
Grumbling, he levered himself up from his chair at the mahogany desk and, wincing at the popping noise his knees made, walked to the bookcases that wrapped the walls of the two story room.
Now where was it?
The case of Alexander Harris was the proverbial puzzle wrapped inside of an enigma. At first it seemed, in spite of the odd behavior of his more intangible sources, that it might simply be a matter of finding the proper dimension and sending him back across the dimensional barriers. Off the top of his head, Ranaldis knew of six different ways that could be accomplished. None of them easy, mind you, but possible. But the more he looked into it the more inexplicable and complicated the situation became.
He had tapped virtually every source he had and gone through several hundred texts, and finally he thought he might be getting a vague picture of what was going on.
Ah! There it was. Wheeling the ladder over he retrieved the book from where it rested halfway up the wall. The copious amount of dust attested to the fact that he hadn't used it in years.
"Must remember to dust one of these days."
Setting the book down he reseated himself and began to page through it, comparing now and then to the other text.
In irritation he muttered, "Tobin you were a lazy-"
He came to the relevant passage and began to read. Picking up a pencil to make a note he stopped.
The pencil dropped to the table.
He stared at the book in disbelief then reached for the notes he'd shoved aside hours earlier and began to page through them.
"Yes, yes…unbalanced scales…reality focus…disruption…dimensional imbalance."
When he finished he stared sightlessly at the desktop for long minutes.
Yes, the image of what Xander's unorthodox trip across dimensions meant was indeed coming clear.
And it was the stuff of nightmare.
"Any luck?"
The question shifted Xander's attention up from the odd tasting food in front of him to James, who had materialized near the table.
"None," answered Lara from her seat beside him. "As soon as we mention the Olund everyone suddenly knows nothing about anything."
"The same here," James said. "Everyone I've contacted reeks of fear." The spy took the seat across from them.
Xander deposited his spoon back into the half eaten bowl of… what ever it was, in front of him. Lara had pointed it out as one of the safe things to eat, but it just didn't taste right. And coming from him, that meant something.
As Lara and James discussed the various contacts they'd tried, Xander's gaze wandered about the crowded room of the establishment. It was something of a tavern, African style, on the outskirts of the city.
He felt edgy. He wasn't sure why. Ever since they had arrived the previous afternoon he'd found himself on alert, glancing over his shoulder and keeping an eye on the more shadowy corners of rooms.
The people in the room were edgy as well. Conversation was muted and nervous eyes glanced toward the door whenever it opened. James was right, people were afraid. But Xander wasn't sure they knew what they were afraid of.
But what was disturbing him the most was that it all seemed familiar, this feeling of nebulous fear and darkness. He'd seen it before. He was positive, but he just couldn't place it.
He glanced at Lara, who was now frowning down into her bowl, and at James, who was scanning the room.
He hadn't told them about his odd feeling, because it hadn't seemed to be anything other than a feeling. But with the general perception of fear, well, he'd learned the hard way that holding back information from your comrades was a bad thing.
"Unh, guys?" he spoke, getting James and Lara's attention. "It isn't just everyone else. Something's been bothering me too."
James's brow furroughed and an expression of sharp concern touched Lara's face.
"I didn't what to bother you because I couldn't explain it." Xander shrugged. "I still can't, but it seems to me it might be related to whatever has got everyone so spooked."
"Are you alright?"
"What do you mean?"
Lara and James both spoke at the same time.
Xander gave a little chuckle, and then said, first to Lara, "I'm fine." And then to James, "I've just got this sensation of…darkness, fear, evil. Take your pick."
Lara, who had relaxed a little at his first answer, asked, "What is it focused on?"
Xander shook his head and said, "Nothing. It's everywhere. All around." He glanced from one of them to the other. "I can't believe you guys don't feel it."
James and Lara looked at each other and both shook their heads. "Not a thing," Lara answered.
"Hun." He paused, hesitating, and then said, "The wiggy part is that it all feels really familiar."
"You've felt this before?"
Xander nodded at James, "I think so, I just can't remember where, or what it was."
The night was silent. Xander glanced around uneasily as they walked back toward the hotel through the shadowy streets. The night was darker here than in England, the shadows deep and impenetrable. The streets had emptied even as the sun had sunk below the horizon in a bloody blaze of fire. Yet here and there the occasional straggler hurried quickly toward the light and safety of home.
A sudden noise, an odd sound out of the shadows made his heart jump before he recognized the soft "whuf" of one of the many stray dogs that populated the back streets and alleys.
Glancing over at James and Lara he noted both of their hands pulling away from where their respective weapons were hidden. They were jumpy too.
Lara's voice was quiet, barely heard even in the silence. "Something's wrong here."
Xander spoke in an equally soft voice, asking, "You guys feeling it too?"
Lara's said, "Yes."
James's response was an affirmative, "Hum." Then he abruptly, he said, "Sundown."
Xander blinked in confusion. "Hunh?"
Lara glanced at James speculatively for a moment and then said, "You're right, that's when it started. Sundown."
Xander thought about it for a moment, and then said, "It started to feel stronger around then. It's almost like…" He trailed off.
He could see Lara tense as she saw the horrified expression he felt stretching his face. James, seeing Xander's face, started to scan the darkness around them while on hand disappeared inside his jacket.
"I'm stupid!" The vehemence with which Xander said that seemed to startle the other two for a moment."
"Xander-" Lara began.
Xander cut her off saying, "We need to get inside. Now."
As he started off, briskly, for the hotel, he saw the toe of them exchange a glance. Neither made any question or comment, they simply stepped up their pace to match his and to positions on either side of him. He felt a sudden warmth at the trust their unquestioning faith in his judgment implied.
"I should have recognized it as soon as I felt it." He said, scanning night around them. "We're standing on top of a Hellmouth."
"You're absolutely certain." James's tense response was more of a statement than a question.
"Ohhh yes. I grew up on top of one. I know what it feels like. Sorry I didn't twig to it earlier, guys."
"No harm," Lara said. "We'll just get inside-"
She cut off as multiple figures resolved out of the shadows around the three of them and one stepped to the fore.
Xander didn't know what the hulking African fellow said, being as he spoke in the local dialect, but from the yellow eyes and demonic ridged faces he thought he had a pretty good idea.
Counting the sixteen vampires surrounding them Xander's voice was a disgusted mutter.
"Well, shit."
Xander cocked his head towards Lara and asked, "What did he say?"
Lara's eyes were carefully moving around the group even as she replied, "The dialect is a little strange, he said something I didn't catch and then something about us being a nice snack."
Xander grimaced and muttered, "Different continent, different universe, and they still can't come up with anything original."
The lead vampire's eyes focused on Xander and he spoke aside to the others. Xander felt Lara tense beside him and he glanced at her. She was looking at the vampires, her expression suddenly gone very hostile.
"Uh, Lara?"
Lara had just informed James and Xander what the vampire had said about them being a snack. She'd never heard this particular dialect before and the meaning of his first sentence still eluded her. The language was very similar to-
The vampire spoke again, and her train of thought broke as she managed to make sense of what he was saying.
"Kill the woman and the older man. But the young one," she felt herself tense as the vampires eyes rested on Xander. "The Darkness wants him alive and intact, It must have him."
Not bloody likely.
Xander's voice came from beside her, "Uh, Lara?"
Lara didn't reply to his question she instead said, "James, did you catch that?"
James's reply was a terse, "Yes."
Xander had the brief instant before Lara spoke again to wonder at his tone.
"Xander, James, ready?"
The vampires had begun to move closer and Xander found himself slipping automatically into the posture Sensei Daishi had engrained into him. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Lara's motion as both of her guns cleared the holsters she had hidden in her clothing. He felt another motion on the other side and presumed James's weapon was out too.
The vampires took this in and chuckles came from various members of the group. The leader spoke. Xander didn't understand the words, but from the grin on the vampire's face he had an idea.
He saw Lara smile in response to the vamp's comment. It was the type of smile that was filled with an amusement that the person it was directed at wouldn't find very amusing. Her aim on the lead vamp shifted minutely. Bang! The report echoed through the street even as her bullet blasted through the vamp's right eye socket.
The vampire was thrown backwards to the ground with a scream of pain, and the other vamps froze for an instant in shock.
Xander was a little startled himself, but to his other side James's quieter gun had taken up a steady rhythm. Bang. Bang. Bang. About every half second, the pauses only because he was switching targets as he incapacitated vamps behind them.
The vamps were moving again and both of Lara's weapons were blasting away. Xander contemplated, for a brief instant, pulling out the gun James had given him. He discarded the idea: Lara and James could put a bullet precisely where they wanted it to go, but he had fair chance of putting it through the wall of a nearby building and killing someone inside.
His moment of consideration was ended when one of the vamps got past James and Lara's hail of bullets and rushed him, arms extended.
It seemed almost ridiculously easy. Just like practice. Xander twisted his body sideways to the vamp and slid toward him and to the side. Even as one arm came up, and with the turning off his body, brushed its grasping arms aside. Xander brought that same arm up and across the neck of the vampire and stepped in, even as its forward momentum carried it past him.
The clotheslined vampire's feet swept out from under him and he slammed headfirst backward into the cement. Xander had to suppress a wince at the wet crunch that was audible even above the gunshots.
Holy freakin' A! He stared at the definitely incapacitated vamp. Xander felt a grin begin to stretch his face, then it turned into a frown; he didn't have any stakes.
A pair of arms closed around him from behind and he reacted automatically, crouching slightly, grasping the arms with his hands, and twisting his entire body before the other could get a solid grip. The vamp, caught off balance, was thrown aside to the ground. Xander readied himself as the vamp began to twist back to his feet.
Bang! A good portion of the vampire's brains splattered against the street as a bullet passed through its skull.
Xander glanced over to see the barrel of Lara's gun still smoking from snapping off the shot. Her other weapon was sweeping around as she scanned their opponents.
Or what was left of them.
Xander became aware of the relative silence. Silence defined as the absence of gunshots; the screams of maimed vampires rebounded from the buildings around.
He glanced to James. The spy was unharmed, and looking completely unruffled, as he reloaded his gun.
Xander stared at the calm man for a moment then said, in a bad accent, "Yes, he's Bond, James Bond."
James glanced at him "Pardon?"
Shaking his head Xander said, "Nothing. Just having another movie moment."
Lara drew both of their attentions. "Everyone alright?"
"Yup."
"Quite."
Xander glanced around again and said, "Well, that was effective." A particularly loud scream came from one of the nearby vampires as it tried to move its destroyed knee, and Xander winced. "Mostly. You guys see any wood around here?"
James immediately moved off toward on of the deep shadows to the side of the street. There was the sound of splintering wood and he returned a second later.
He tossed a roughly broken piece of wood, each, to Xander and Lara before moving toward the nearest vampire.
Moments latter the screams and groans began to be replaced by the sounds of dusting vampires.
"Damn," said Xander. "Not a policeman in sight."
He gave Lara and James a half smile as he held the door for them. "Reminds me of good old Sunnyhell."
The three had come to the larger of the two rooms they had rented, after stopping in Lara's to pick up her stuff, and Lara set her things away as James checked the room over.
Xander watched as the spy carefully swept the room and then asked, "First you say we're all going to sleep in the same room, then you check it over when we get here. I realize this is a Hellmouth but, paranoid much?"
James didn't even glance at him as he replied, "Always."
Lara finished stowing her bags and said, "After what the vampire said. It's not paranoia."
Xander glanced from one to the other as he settled on the corner of the bed. "I don't speak whatever language that was so I wouldn't know."
He waited as Lara regarded him gravely for a moment. "They were after you."
He blinked and straightened up. "Me?"
She frowned. "Yes. Though I'm not sure if it was you in particular or- " James, finishing with his inspection of the room cut her off. "It was Xander specifically, that they were looking for."
She looked at him silently for a moment then said, "The first thing the vampire said, I didn't get that."
"Roughly translated: He is right where It said he would be."
Suppressing the sudden chill he felt Xander said, "I know a lot of "its", to which would he be referring?"
They both looked at him. Lara with a touch of concern that sparked off warmth in his chest, and he couldn't help but smile reassuringly at her. James looked thoughtful, like a man running through possibilities in his mind.
There was silence in the room as each pursued their thoughts.
Lara exited the bathroom and said, "The washroom is yours, James."
She observed the two sleeping rolls the men had put out on the floor while she was readying for bed. She moved to the bed, picking up her weapons from the table on the way.
Setting both pistols on the nightstand she laid her knife next to them. She frowned at the knife for a moment. It wasn't large enough to really efficiently decapitate something; she hadn't been planning on meeting vampires this trip. Hum.
She looked up from the knife. "Xander, could you bring me one of the stakes?"
He got up from his sleeping roll, where he was sitting ready for bed in just sweatpants, to hand her one of the wooden stakes from earlier.
As his hand brushed hers she felt a shiver deep inside and wished for a moment that they had the room to themselves.
He apparently caught some change in her gaze and asked, "Is something wrong?"
She looked up and down his surprisingly muscled torso as a smile crept onto her lips. Then she met his eyes to find him blushing.
"Most definitely nothing wrong."
He retreated to his bedroll, and as she pulled up the trashcan and began to sharpen the stake, she remembered the first time she had teased him like that. When she had walked out of the bathroom in South America clad only in the bath towel.
She didn't think she was teasing anymore.
James exited the bathroom to find Xander sitting on his blankets with a slight blush on his cheeks and Lara sitting on the bed sharpening a stake.
His mind passed over several scenarios to explain, but he simple shook his head and smiled.
He moved to one side of the window, careful not to cast a shadow on the curtains and looked out. Nothing. The streetlight shone on empty pavement.
Of course there might be things out there that he couldn't see.
Moving to his bedroll he set his weapons carefully beside, where he could locate them without sight in the dark, and sat frowning. He hated not having enough information.
Both his companions were more versed in the supernatural than he was. His work had brought him into contact with it on occasion, but never really seriously head on. He knew most of Lara's experience from what she had told him.
His eyes shifted to Xander. Lara might have had more experience in certain respects that he did. But the young man certainly had them both far outclassed in terms of the demonic. Considering what he had been told about hellmouths, that was the type of thing they would be encountering.
"Xander."
His question brought the young man's attention him. "You're our expert in the demonic, and anything having to do with hellmouths. You're going to have to tell us exactly what basics we should know, and guide us both on the rest."
Lara's attention had turned from the stake, and they both watched Xander took a deep breath and then nodded. Not flinching.
James felt a bit of pride in the young man and smiled at him. "So, will these weapons be enough?"
Xander considered for a moment and then said, "It depends on what we encounter. Vampires," he grinned at this. "It seems you can deal with pretty damn effectively. But with demons it varies depending on the species and sometimes the individual."
James frowned; obviously they couldn't carry too much with them. "Is there something that is fairly effective over a broad range?"
Xander sat silently for several second staring into space. Then he said slowly, "Well. Anti-tank weapons seem to work pretty well."
James felt his eyebrows shoot up, expressing his surprise. Then he could feel the smile growing.
Lara must have been rather surprised too because she said, "That's one you haven't told me."
Xander shrugged in embarrassment. "We had a major demon on our hands so I stole an anti tank weapon from the Sunnydale military base."
He felt the grin on his face widen as Xander asked him, "What?"
"I just approve of the creativity of my student." He chuckled. "I must tell this one to M."
"Well," Lara said. "Getting something like that will have to wait for the morning. Will we be safe tonight?"
Xander said, "I would guess so. The dance party we had outside should be all for the night. Of course, tomorrow night will be something worse."
James looked at Lara and asked, "Do you have any contacts for that type of weaponry?"
"Limited in this area. It would have to be shipped in from somewhere else. You?"
"In an area this rife with conflict? Many. Lots of people owe MI6 favors."
Lara raised an eyebrow. "How will M take that?"
"For the sake of dealing with a Hellmouth, she'll tolerate it. Besides," he felt a smile creep onto his lips. "I have a fair amount of latitude."
There was a snort of laughter from Xander at this.
Xander lay in the darkness, eyes closed, listening to Lara and James. The mood had turned lighter at the moment and the two were bantering back and forth.
"Oh, I don't know James. I'm in a hotel room with two handsome, half naked, men, I don't believe I'm going to have a bad night."
"My dear Lady Croft. Your aunt would be scandalized-"
"Good."
"- to say nothing of the rest of the aristocracy. It makes me glad I'm not a member of such a repressive group." He paused for a moment as if contemplating. "Being pronounced nobility must do something queer to the insides of one's head, don't you think Xand-"
Xander opened his eyes as he caught a sound that was oddly familiar. He placed it just as the object thumped down on James's face, cutting off his words: a pillow being thrown.
There was a moment of silence then the same sound again, slightly altered, and a double thump as both pillows in James's possession returned in the opposite direction.
Xander stared at the darkened ceiling, his eyes wide.
Lara Croft and James Bond were having a pillow fight.
He felt a twitching in his lips, which turned to an all out grin as he heard Lara chuckle from the bed.
Then he reached for his pillow.
Xander came slowly out of dreams as the sounds of two people quietly moving about penetrated the haze of sleep. He shifted off his side to his back and began to stretch, but froze halfway through, frowning.
Something was different.
It wasn't anything physical; it felt-
Xander sat bolt upright as he said, "It's gone!"
His two companion's attention snapped to him from where they were occupied: Lara, cross-legged on the bed cleaning her pistols, and James, laptop open on the desk, logged into some site with an MI6 logo in the background.
Lara's tone was questioning as she said, "Xander?"
Xander glanced from one of them to the other, saying, "The hellmouth."
James looked at Lara and said, "Both of us stopped sensing it at dawn, but we assumed that it had just weakened with the day. As we didn't feel it yesterday either."
Xander shook his head and said, "No, it's definitely gone."
Lara was absently piecing her gun together as she thought, then she said, "I wouldn't think that would be possible."
"It not!" He remembered a description of the nature of a hellmouth from one of the dry old tomes that Giles had handed him during one of their research sessions. "A hellmouth is a mystic confluence of ley lines and other dimensional energy that has sunk a hole through the fabric of the universe into other dimensions. It doesn't just go away. I asked Giles once if we could just get rid of ours, or move it. His answer was a definite no. He said that to permanently seal or move a hellmouth would take a level of energy that, if it escaped control, would likely destroy the planet."
Lara said, "Lovely." Taking her gaze from Xander she looked to James and said, "James?"
"Hum?"
"Bigger weapons please."
Lara sighed and rolled her head, trying to work the kinks out of her neck. Her contacts were being a little more forthcoming with the absence of the hellmouth. But getting anything out of them was still like pulling the proverbial teeth.
"Here," Xander said as he walked beside her and he gestured to a bench by the side of the path. "Sit."
She settled herself on the bench looking curiously at Xander, wondering what he was about. The shortcut through the park was gaining them some time, so they could afford to loose a few minutes, but not too long.
He moved to stand behind her and in a moment she felt his hands on her shoulders.
A groan escaped her lips as his hands dug into the muscles of her shoulders, massaging. Her eyes closed and she leaned back into him, her back coming to rest against his legs, her head against his stomach.
She relaxed and let him kneed her tension away as she sat, the warm African sun pouring over her from the front, while Xander's warmth soaked into her from behind.
After minutes, his hands slowly stilled and they just rested upon her shoulders. She didn't want to move, feeling a peaceful contentment that she had so rarely in her life. For long moments she tried to freeze this instant. Just push the world away and hold it frozen, encapsulated, so it she could keep it forever.
A sudden swell in the noise of the city broke the momentary illusion and with a soft, barely perceptible sigh, she opened her eyes. Her voice was quiet as she said, "Thank you. That was divine."
She felt his chuckle in his stomach against the back of her head. "I don't know about divine, but after all the shoulder rubs I gave Wills and Buffy during the late night research sessions I got to be okay at it."
"Better than "okay"."
"Well, it's good to be useful for something."
She brought her hands up to cover his, where they rested. And as she spoke she made sure she put the concern she felt at that statement into her voice. "What do you mean?"
She felt the shrug he gave. "I didn't expect to be terribly useful on this trip, I mean you and James can handle pretty much anything that comes your way. In spite of what he said last night I still feel…"
As he trailed off Lara said, "You are not useless." She twisted around to look up at him. "What James said is true. He was not saying it just to coddle you. You are the expert here. Neither him, nor I, have much experience with demons. You have had years of experience." Remembering things he'd told her, a slight smile pulled her lips. "I suppose that makes you our Watcher."
A surprised laugh escaped him and as she watched, his face lightened. He said, "Just as long as I don't have to wear tweed."
Looking into his smile, her heart, which had darkened at his admission, lightened again.
Their gazes remained locked as the seconds passed. The smiles faded replaced by something else, and she felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. Her eyes moved from his to his lips, which she had a sudden desire to kiss.
A loud bark yanked their attention away from each other as a dog rushed out of the brush, chased by its irate owner.
Several apologies by the man later she was standing by the bench and glanced at Xander. He was looking after the dog and its owner, and she studied his profile even as she reminded herself that they had to go or they would be late. Giving an internal sigh she contemplated that reality seemed determined to intrude.
He turned back to meet her gaze and after a moment said, "We should probably get going. James, idle, with that much heavy ordinance just seems like a dangerous idea."
"Yes," she said. But it was long second until she moved.
James noticed the two long before they reached him. He was being rather alert, due to the fact that he had enough weaponry to level a small town sitting in a crate in the back of the jeep. He observed them as they drew closer.
Their body language was off. They way they were relating to each other was different form when they had separated earlier. Something had happened.
Filing the observation away for future reference he turned his mind back to the matter he had been considering: the artifact, the Olunde.
Lara spoke as she approached. "Did you get everything?"
James nodded. "I had to substitute in a couple cases, but yes. Did you find out anything?"
"No," Lara said. "I don't believe that anyone really knows anything, at least not here. There are rumors, but with what I already know I don't think they're true."
James nodded. "I've been thinking that maybe we're looking for information in the wrong places."
Lara cocked her head at him.
"It seems to me that the people who have been her the longest are the ones who might be able to find the Olunde the fastest."
"The native tribes," Lara murmured.
Xander looked up from where he was examining the weapons crate. "So it's off into the countryside?"
"Almost," James said. "There is one person we need to see."
Lara suddenly asked, "And the vanishing hellmouth?"
It was Xander who answered, paralleling James's thought, "A major artifact of evil and a hellmouth? Its gotta be connected."
Lara gave a smirk and said, "About how my thoughts were running."
Xander spoke over the noise of the Jeep. "It's not on the map."
James answered from his seat in the front passenger side of the jeep. "He said it was here."
"And you trust him?" Xander asked. "He looked a little shifty to me."
James glanced back at him with a slight smile and said, "A zebra wouldn't look like a zebra without its stripes."
Xander stared at him for a moment and then asked, accusingly, "Have you been reading fortune cookies again?"
They both glanced toward the drivers seat at the sound of the chuckle that emanated from its occupant.
Catching Lara's gaze in the rearview mirror Xander asked, "What?" Then his eyes widened. "He has?"
Smiling, Lara glanced at James. Xander noticed that the look they exchanged was both amused and a little sad.
James's eyes were shadowed, but they still held humor as he said, "It was a habit I picked up soon after I was engaged."
Oh. Moneypenny. Xander didn't know what to say to that, so he shrugged an apology to James.
The spy just smiled a little and said, "It's all right."
Silence enveloped the occupants of the jeep and Xander's gaze once again swept the savannah. The plains stretched on interminably around them, broken only by the occasional tree. He paused and squinted, well there was that single giraffe over there. Not terribly interesting. He'd been hoping for a pride of lions or something. The only really interesting sight was Kilimanjaro, rising above the haze in the distance.
There was supposed to be a village somewhere around here. James's contact, a little rat faced man by the name of Franz, had said it was a holy site for many of the tribes and that there had been rumors of a gathering there.
The jeep hit a bump and Xander thumped into the weapons crate next to him.
He hoped the tribal elders didn't mind them lugging enough weapons to take out a small army in with them.
"So Red? We ready?"
Willow looked up from the circle she had chalked out on the basement floor, to where Faith sat watching from the stairs.
"I think so. I mean all the conditions for the spell are met: the diagrams, the components, the statue fragments, the blood of the A'Grathi demon-"
"And Xander's gonna owe me big for getting that," Faith muttered. "I'm still picking those scales out of my hair."
Willow continued, "And a few drops of Dawn's blood. It should be a sufficient catalyst."
Faith waited for a few moments after Willow fell silent then said, "Well, why aren't we starting? I don't think Dawn can keep Giles and the rest distracted for too long."
"Well, it's just that…" Willow wrung her hands. "What if I'm wrong? What if it's like Buffy, and he's," she stumbled over the word, "… dead. And I pull him back when I shouldn't."
Faith opened her mouth to make an unhelpful comment, but stopped. Willow needed some encouragement at the moment, not snarky remarks.
"Willow, from what you've told me the situation is completely different. You seemed pretty certain about this before. Are you sure this isn't just a case of jitters?"
The witch stared at her for a moment as then took a deep breath and nodded.
"Okay. Lets do this."
Willow lifted the small glass with Dawn's blood and placed a few drops in the center of the circle. Stepping carefully back she raised her arms in supplication.
"Surt, Ravager, Spirit of Fire, I invoke thee."
The braziers she had put in a triangle around the circle suddenly erupted in flame.
Faith felt sudden beads of sweat collect on her brow. The room seemed to echo with a ghostly roar of distant flames. The spirit hungered. She could feel it, seething, mercurial.
"Tethys, Restless One, Spirit of Water, I invoke thee."
The three bowls of water, in counterpart to the braziers, rippled and a faint mist began to rise from them.
The temperature in the room dropped once again to something approaching normal. The air took on a wet heavy feeling and Faith's hearing picked up the faint sound of waves rolling on the shore. The spirit had a feel of indifference, restlessness, of shifting endless motion.
"Ithiqua, Wind Walker, Spirit of the Winds, I invoke thee."
The heavy wet air was suddenly cut by wind, blowing from all corners of the room it touched upon Faith before moving to swirl around willow. Faith shuddered at its caress. She had a sudden image of unknowable voids and the vast cold winds that moved between stars.
"Gaia, Our Mother, Spirit of the Earth, I invoke thee."
A note sounded, a rumble, low, almost subliminal. Faith felt it more than heard. It vibrated up from the ground into her very bones. It was different than the others; it felt warm, kind, as if it were cradling her gently. Lending strength.
Faith tensed as Willow began the last invocation. This one, she had said, was the most dangerous. The spirit it called upon was older than the others, perhaps as old as anything save the Creator.
"Nox, Darkness, Night, I invoke thee."
Faith didn't see any result for a moment, and then she became aware of a darkening of the shadows in the room. In moments the walls had vanished and Faith stared outward into illimitable night.
She started to relax then tensed again. Something was wrong. She could sense the spirit, not just a general presence but as something tangible, utterly here.
A part of the darkness seemed to coalesce, shifting, flickering, until a figure stood across the circle from Willow. It was a woman. Maybe. Faith couldn't tell. Like a shadow it seemed to change depending upon how you looked at it.
She leapt to her feet, but a frantic shake of the head by Willow kept her where she was.
"Why should I assist you, my young Willow?" The voice came from everywhere, and it washed out of the darkness and shivered across Faith's skin. "You here have tasted of both sides of me. But I have no special place for you in my heart."
Lara was grinning as she said, "You're quite handy to have around hordes of small children."
Xander picked out another children's "spear" from his clothes and said, "Next time you get to be the lion, and I talk to the Elders."
James's voice came from behind them as he approached, carrying Xander's duffle. "You could have come in with us you know; the invitation was for us all."
"Nah," was Xander's reply. His voice grew quieter and he glanced toward the cooking fires where the kids had gone to eat. "The kids know something is wrong, and they're scared. I was a new and interesting distraction. I could take their minds off it, at least for a little while."
Looking back to Lara he saw her gaze had gone soft, and she reached out and gently touched his cheek. He felt his soul shiver at her touch. He wasn't sure he could believe his perception of the emotions he was seeing in her gaze, but he desperately wanted to.
Taking a deep breath and breaking eye contact, he glanced to James and said, "Could you hand me another shirt, please?"
James was already setting the bag down and unzipping it. He opened it, started to reach for the contents, and froze, staring down into it.
Xander caught the grin on Lara's face out of the corner of his eye.
James unfroze, reached in, carefully shifting objects aside, and pulled out a shirt. Standing, he stepped over and handed it to Xander. As Xander shucked one shirt and pulled on the other he caught James glancing at Lara, an eyebrow raised.
Lara looked back at James, smirking, and said, "One of the reasons I like him: he thinks off the beaten path."
"Okay, enough about what's in my bag," Xander said. "It was an impulse, alright?"
Faced with the amused sparkle in Lara's eye and the growing smile on James's he groaned. Throwing up his arms he tried to shift the subject and asked, "What did the Elders say?"
Both of their smiles vanished.
Oh-oh, the thought flickered through his head. That doesn't look good.
No, definitely not good. The dancing continued around the fire and Xander, who normally would have been eagerly singing and clapping along, stared past the dancers into the fire.
The Elders didn't know where the Olunde was, but they could feel its influence across the face of Africa. Darkness gathered upon the horizon, and it seemed that no one knew where the fury of the storm would be unleashed.
A hand settled upon his thigh and he glanced at Lara who sat cross- legged beside him. She leaned closer and asked, "Are you alright?"
He gave her the trademark "everything's a-okay" smile he used on Buffy and Wills.
It didn't work so well here.
She continued to look into his eyes, her gaze searching. He felt his determination to present a cheerful front crumble.
Leaning close to her so she could hear him over the noise he said, "Just worrying over the whole situation."
"We'll figure it out."
He shrugged, saying with a touch of frustration, "I know. It's just that I'd like, just once, to have the answer given to us. Instead of us having to find it in the last ten minutes of the eleventh hour." He chuckled. "It would be nice if one of the big bads would just…" He trailed off.
The idea sat there, suddenly shoved to the front of his skull, and he examined it unbelievingly as Lara looked curiously at him.
He shook his head; it can't be that easy. Of course the idea's damn near suicidal. He supposed that kind made up for the easy part.
Xander felt a grin begin to stretch his face.
Faith could see Willow was trembling, but her voice was firm as she raised the bowl that Faith knew held the A'Grathi blood.
"I give an offering of-"
The voice cut her off, saying, "I know what it is you offer, young one. And I wonder why you think it would be of any interest to one such as me.
Willow's expression faltered even more and her voice was a whisper as she said, "But Edric's Tome said-"
"Nothing of value, young one, nothing of value."
Faith was beginning to get the idea that things were going really wrong. She tried to move forward and found she couldn't do it, tried to speak, but her vocal chords wouldn't form sound. A cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
Not good. She hoped Red could pull something off.
Somewhere behind her Faith heard the door to the cellar burst open and footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Giles's voice was half angry half frantic as he started to speak even before he was fully into the cellar. "Willow-"
Faith felt the watcher pull up short as he came even with her on the stairs.
Nox's voice came from all around, drifting over her like a sigh and caressing the air as it said, "Ah, Rupert."
The noises of more people running toward the cellar entrance trickled through the door, including Dawn's voice saying, "Giles!"
Nox spoke again, saying, "No. All the participants in our little drama have arrived. No more."
The sounds from outside the cellar vanished and silence descended, broken only by the crackle of flames from the braziers.
Out of the corner of her eye Faith saw Giles look behind them toward the door.
His voice was soft, but with feeling, as he said, "Bloody hell."
Faith found herself able to move once again and glancing behind, saw that there was no longer a door behind them. There was nothing at all. The stairway vanished into darkness between one step and the next. Aside from the stairway and a flickering circle of light around the braziers everything was gone. She heard Giles mutter, beside her, "Willow, if we get out of this…"
The darkness gave out a chuckle, the sound rippled over Faith's skin raising goose bumps. She saw Giles shift uncomfortably beside her.
"That is very much in doubt as of yet, Rupert. But more so for the two young ones."
"Lady Night," Giles's voice took on a formal, respectful tone. "If they have offended you-"
"It is not I who will harm them. Your young charge has called upon Ithaqua for the element of air."
"What?"
The single word held an unutterable depth of horror. Faith looked the Giles's face and felt the coldness in her gut transmuting into something worse.
Willow started, "Giles-"
Giles held up a silencing hand and, speaking to the darkness said, "But one earth he is confined to the far north-"
"He has been summoned, his confinement is irrelevant." The voice was firm, and then it continued, "I believe you are aware of the Thing that Walks on Winds… appetites."
Giles's gaze went from Willow to Faith as Nox continued, "While they might survive his attentions, there would be little left of their minds."
"Whoah," Faith spoke up, not liking the gist of the conversation. "There is no way I'm letting anyth-"
"It is not a question of "letting", Shadowed Slayer," Nox's voice was rich with amusement. "Slayers were never made to fight such as that. He would brush your best effort aside as nothing and take you, irregardless of your wishes. The young witch would fare no better even were she to summon to her all the power she has ever known."
As Nox's voice fell silent Faith looked down to meet Willow's eyes and saw in them a stark fear the mirrored her own growing feeling.
Willows voice was barely audible from where Faith stood, as she whispered, "I needed a powerful air spirit."
"Ithaqua was never just an air spirit Willow." Giles spoke gently in the face of Willow's fear. From her close perspective Faith could see desperation in his gaze as he looked toward the shadowy figure of Nox. "Lady, I cannot defend them from such a-"
The tone of the voice had changed to something resembling anticipation. "But you can protect them, Rupert."
Giles must have heard the change too, because caution entered his voice as he asked, "How?"
Nox's voice had a rich caressing quality and Faith heard a note of eagerness in the being's voice as it said, "Because you have something I want."
Giles stood, unmoving, gazing at the shadowy figure opposite Willow in silence. His eyes travelled then to Willow and finally to Faith, and she saw a touch of resignation in his eyes.
Faith tried to speak, to protest what she suddenly understood to be coming, but she once again couldn't speak. She shot a glance to Willow only to see the same struggle being waged inside the witch's eyes.
Turning back to Giles she saw the man give a small sigh, then his shoulders straightened and he smiled at Willow and herself. The smile was gentle, a little sad, and it seemed to say: Don't worry; I'll make everything all right.
Nox's voice spoke once more from the darkness, saying, "Shall we negotiate terms?"
There was no hesitation in Giles's voice as he said, "Yes."
Darkness, like a tidal wave, closed in over them.
The darkness surrounding him was not the obscuring terror that filled the night of Sunnydale. It was warm, comforting, and almost womblike. The shadow form was gone, swallowed up in the enveloping dark along with Willow and Faith. He could only trust that Nox would keep her word and the two girls would be all right.
Taking a deep breath Giles spoke into the darkness, asking, "What is it you wish of me?"
"Ah," Nox's reply was a whisper that came from all around. "A precious thing, Rupert. Not what matters most. But that which matters more than you will ever know."
Giles thought about that reply for a moment. Sometimes the hardest part of dealing with the great powers was figuring out what they meant. And often it is not the healthiest of ideas to ask them to explain themselves at a level commensurate with your understanding. "Surely there is nothing I can give you that you cannot make or manifest for yourself."
"What I want from you is something that only the Creator may give to a being. He has not given this thing to me, but has to you. I cannot take this from you, He would not permit that, so it must be given."
Off hand Giles could think of only one thing that Nox could not possibly create and that he had.
His soul.
"No, no, no, no…" Willow could feel her mind shifting into panic mode as the darkness wrapped around her and hid Giles from her sight. This wasn't supposed to happen. She'd had it all figured out. She'd researched, she'd made sure that she knew what she was getting into. The books had been specific.
No one was supposed get hurt, and now Giles…oh, Goddess.
"Red?"
Willow's head swung around. "Faith?"
The Slayer suddenly resolved out of the blackness, suddenly beside her without seeming to move.
"I think I got some idea of what's going on, Red. You want to confirm or deny?"
"The books were wrong, Faith. They were wrong. And now Giles…"
When she trailed off Faith said, "Yeah, I got that part. What I don't get is what she wants from Giles, or what this Ithaqua-"
Willow felt it, even as Faith cut off. Something was coming.
As one they turned toward the void around them, drawn by the whisper of something approaching through the darkness.
Willow heard Faith suck in a fearful breath beside her just a moment before she saw it. A faint light appeared, approaching. After the time of darkness enwrapping her Willow might have been glad to see light, if it had been starlight, or sunlight, or moonlight, or some other type of friendly glow.
It wasn't. The ghastly luminescence reminded her simultaneously of the cold dead skin of a corpse and the rotting glow of the will-o'-the-wisps.
The glow drew closer and Willow could make out a figure within. Human it seemed in shape, striding upon two legs, but aspects about it were suggestive of something horribly…other.
It's eyes. Goddess! Willow shivering took a step back from the Things gaze as the glowing carmine pits swept over her. Briefly she felt a mind brush against hers. Alien. Frigid cold with strange emotions until it perceived her and Faith.
Heat flared, a seething alien lust trailed fingers across her soul.
With a scream Willow tore her mind away from the brief contact. She felt Faith grab her arm just as absolute darkness closed around them once again.
"Red? Willow!"
Willow was vaguely aware that Faith had hold of both her arms. Images burned in her minds eye and she shivered violently still caught in the echoes of touching that vast, leprous, mind.
"She is well, Slayer." Nox's voice cut even thought the horror filling her. "I merely allowed her to perceive the Wind Walker as he came in search of her. Perhaps she will gain some wisdom from the experience. It would be well for you all if she did."
Willow managed to make her mouth work. "Giles? Where is-"
"Rupert is well," Nox said. The voice took on a satisfied tone, as it continued, "He has given me what I wanted. The bargain is made. Take heed young witch. I will keep the Wind Walker away as long as you do not call upon him again."
"Fat chance there."
Willow thought she heard a touch of amusement in Nox's voice as she replied, "Time will tell young one."
"Xander," said Faith. "What about Xander?"
"Your invocation is still in force," said Nox. "Flawed as it was. What Rupert has given me is of sufficient value to facilitate that as well. If this is a matter you truly wish to meddle in."
"What do you mean?" Willow said. "Meddle?"
"Dominoes my young Willow. Catalysts. Xander. They are what they are."
"What does that-"
"Chose!" The darkness reverberated with the force of the word and rocked her back on her heels. Willow gagged as it nearly forced words from her throat even as Nox continued. "The forces align."
Was she doing the right thing? Could this be wrong? Would she be hurting Xander? The doubts raced through her mind.
"Yes." Willow turned her head to look at Faith as the Slayer spoke into the darkness. "Finish this."
Nox's reply made Willow's bones ache with the sudden boil of power around them.
"Done."
"Okay. You two ready?" Xander looked Lara and James.
"Always."
"Quite."
He gave a little smile at Lara's flippant answer and James's restrained. He was feeling anything but flippant.
Staring at the low series of hills he chuckled suddenly.
"What?"
At her question he glanced at Lara and replied, "Come in said the Lion to the Mouse. Don't mind the teeth."
James walked past both of them, toward the hills, saying, "Ah, but this mouse is carrying a really big gun."
"Don't I know it," Xander said to Lara, looking at the spy's apparently unarmed form. "Where the hell did he put all that stuff?"
Lara smirked at him. "Trade secret probably."
Xander shifted feeling both the familiar and unfamiliar weights of the various weapons he was carrying. He was carrying almost every single weapon he knew how to use, and he still felt naked.
He looked up at the looming hills and wondered if this was as bad an idea as he thought it was. They were going to see a Big Bad about a Big Bad. If the evils of Sunnydale were any guideline one so called "master of evil" didn't like another one muscling in on his turf. And would probably be more aware of the invader than anyone else.
So they were looking up the oldest most entrenched bady the Elders of the tribes knew of. Hopefully they could convince him to give them the information on the basis of getting rid of the competition.
"You know," Xander said with a sly glance toward Lara. "It's too bad we couldn't get a BFG."
Buffy walked silently through the streets of Sunnydale. Even for nighttime the streets were empty, the residents, for the most part, having fled.
Stopping in front of a house she paused, it was as good a place as any to spend the night. But she still didn't go in.
She was alone. Her friends. Her family. All stripped away. She felt fragile and hollow. As brittle as a cobweb on a frozen January morning. She still believed she was right, but did it matter if she was right? She was alone.
Oddly, she thought of Xander. Memories passed by her mind's eye. All the times he had cheered her up, not just through his sense of humour, but by just being there. The warmth the memories produced bloomed and then faded a little as she contemplated the present.
Had she done the wrong thing? She hadn't been lying to Willow and Dawn; she did want to find him. How could she not? He was her friend. It was just…the world came first, and in the face of that Xander just wasn't that important.
She realized she was hugging herself, arms wrapped around her own torso, and she deliberately loosened her hold. Her own words echoed in her ears from a couple years ago before that fateful fight against Glory: "I don't know how to live in this world if these are the choices. If everything just keeps getting striped away."
The decision of wether or not to immediately try to find Xander, she realized suddenly, was one of those choices.
It was, in that moment, so blindingly obvious. She hadn't wanted to see it, hadn't let herself, because if she thought of it as important then she wouldn't be able to deal. She hadn't wanted to make the choice so she chose what had cut her off from her feelings, right or wrong.
Buffy's arms tightened again and her back made a slight thump on the lampost as she leaned back against it. Her vision blurred and she felt tears on her face. Her body shook as she slid down the post into a crouch. Forehead resting on her knees, she cried, and rocked herself. Trying to comfort the pain inside.
She was alone. No Willow, Dawn, Giles. No Xander. She had once said all she had to rely on was herself. It wasn't enough. Not now.
She remembered heaven and wished, not that she could be there, but that she could feel as cared for and…certain that things would turn out all right. In that moment Buffy did something she hadn't since before she had died.
Help me. The thought came out through the tears and turmoil: an utterly spontaneous and heartfelt plea. To God, or Goddess, or Creator, or whatever the hell was out there. She just needed not to be alone.
And she wasn't. It felt almost as if someone had put an arm around her shoulders. That wasn't it, really. Just the closest she could come to describing it: the same feeling of comfort and warmth crept into her. She was being held, gently, tenderly, and lovingly. The presence was vast, affectionate, calm, and warm.
It felt like heaven.
Literally.
Bloody wankers.
Thoughts ragged through Spike's mind as he stalked down the street, following Buffy's scent. How dare they throw her out? After all she had sacrificed for them. To just-"
His internal raging paused as he caught sight of the figure sitting in the pool of light under the streetlamp. Was that…
Yes, it was. Buffy was sitting cross-legged with her back against the lamppost. As he neared Spike could see she had been crying and his anger boiled up again, but then cooled slightly in puzzlement, upon closer examination.
She wasn't crying now. Her eyes were closed. The marks of the tears had dried and her expression seemed peaceful.
"Buffy?"
"Buffy?"
Spike's voice wasn't unexpected. She'd heard him coming half a block away. The twisted mass of emotions he normally brought up in her was muted. She hadn't felt this calm in a long time.
Her sense of the presence hadn't gone away, it was there if she looked for it, just not unless she looked for it. She felt as if someone were holding her hand, sharing strength.
"Spike," she said. After a moment of silence she opened her eyes and cocked her head up at him asking, "What are you doing out here?"
"Looking for you." He crouched down next to her, asking, "Are you all right?"
She could see he was concerned, puzzled, and angry. She spoke, smiling a little, "I'm fine. In fact, I think I'm better than I have been in a while."
His brow furrowed and he gazed at her searchingly.
Spike was taken back; he'd been expecting a depressed Slayer, maybe an angry Slayer, but this…peaceful Slayer wasn't what he'd expected.
"I gave those ungrateful wankers an earful and then came straight out to find you."
Buffy shook her head at him. "They're doing what they think is right, Spike. I'm not going to blame them for that." A wry smile twisted her lips. "You have to admit, my track record of late is not exactly stellar. You need to go back and help them."
He was now way beyond taken back. "What! Help those-"
"Yes, Spike. Help them. I can protect myself. But there are a lot of vulnerable young girls back there and it will be hard for the guys to protect them all. And with Xander-"
Her calm seemed to waver for a moment as she said droopy's name, but then steadied again."With Xander gone that's just one less experienced person. They need you."
He looked back into her steady gaze. There was a calmness there, a resolve, and something he couldn't put a name to.
Something was happening here that he didn't understand. So, after a moment, he gave it another try. "I don't think you should be alone."
A smile crept onto her face and she said, "I'm not."
Buffy watched as Spike left, glancing back over his shoulder. She felt…sure. She had made as certain as possible her friends safety, and she knew what she had to do. After that, there was no point in worrying.
As she slowly got to her feet she reflected on this strange answer to her plea for help. The sense of support and peace didn't solve any problems. Everything was still as grim as it had been a few hours before. It just made it bearable. She could do it now. She could go forward to whatever awaited.
Time to pay the vineyard a visit.
Bryce wandered into the study to find Hillary talking on the phone, an expression of concern on his face.
"No, no, we haven't," the butler was saying into the mouthpiece. "She hasn't called in since Friday. Can you tell me- Hum. All right. I'll get her to contact you as soon as possible."
As Hillary set the phone back into its cradle Bryce asked, "Who was that?"
The troubled expression remained on the butler's face as he said, "That was Ranaldis. He wanted to speak to Lara and Xander."
"What about?"
"He wouldn't tell me." Hillary met Bryce's gaze seriously. He was quite agitated."
Bryce chuckled. "He's always agitated."
"No, this was different. He seemed…afraid."
The trio made their way past the termination of the grass onto the hard packed earth surrounding the huts. A butte of stone rose above the far side of the village, the afternoon sun throwing its shadow nearly to their feet.
"Well, this certainly seems a lively place."
Xander and James glanced at Lara as she made the comment: James with a slight smile, Xander with a grimace.
"Careful," Xander muttered. "you'll jinx us."
At first glance the village seemed deserted. But taking a closer look Xander saw movement here and there.
"Guys."
James's reply was calm. "We see them."
There were people in the huts. He saw an old man's face peering out in one doorway, and a woman's in another. A cold shiver went through him. Turning his head to the left he caught a glimpse of a child as it pulled back into the shadows inside on of the structures.
It was their eyes. There was nothing in them: no spark, no life, just a void. As if everything within had been eaten away.
To his right he felt his hand brush Lara's where it hovered near the gip of one of her pistols. For a moment he grabbed hold of it and squeezed, feeling a comforting pressure in return. Then drew his hand back and put it near his own weapon.
"Ahead."
James's murmur brought his attention forward. An old man was approaching, leaning upon a yellowish-white, oddly twisted, staff. Xander's eyes locked on it as they drew closer and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
"Is that…"
Lara murmured a confirmation of what he guessed. "Human bones."
The bones had been somehow fused together into a hideously knobbed and twisted shaft, about six feet long. It thumped softly against the packed earth as the man moved forward.
Xander contemplated the man for a moment as he felt James glance at him out of the corner of his eyes, and shook his head in a negative answer to the spy's unvoiced question. This wasn't the big bad. He didn't feel right.
Xander waited as James said something in the local dialect.
The man ignored the spy, standing with his head bowed staring at the ground. Lara and James glanced at one another, and then Lara tried, speaking in another language.
The man was unresponding, ignoring them both, until suddenly he raised his head, looked straight at Xander, and spoke, "He is expecting you, Herald."
Xander froze, caught off guard. "Expect…" that didn't surprise him much, but, "Herald?"
He could feel Lara's gaze on him and started to glance toward her but was drawn back as the man spoke again. "Mother Africa trembles under your footsteps, Unchosen One."
Okaaay, this was wigging him out. "Uh, right. How about you just take us to the boss and stop with the weird."
The man made no reply, but simply bowed his head and turned his slow steps back in the direction he came.
Looking at the two others, Xander shrugged, and then started after the old man.
God, he hoped everything for the back-up plan was falling into place.
Faith found herself standing in the Summer's front room and jumped at the sudden shrieks of surprise that came from around.
"Faith! Willow!"
Dawn's voice grabbed her attention for a moment before she looked to the redhead that stood beside her blinking in startlement.
"Red, weren't we just…."
"In absolute darkness somewhere outside space and time? Yeah."
"Are you two all right?" Dawn asked, and, barely pausing for breath continued. "It was like the basement just vanished for a moment and then when the darkness cleared it was empty. No Faith, Willow or Giles-" She stopped, looking at them. "Where's Giles?"
Before either woman could form an answer to the question the watcher's voice came from the direction of the dining room.
"I'm here Dawn."
"Giles!"
Willow was halfway into the other room before Faith had taken her first step. Faith entered the dining room to see Giles, standing next to the dining room table, squeezed in a hug by Willow, who was babbling.
"Oh, Goddess, Giles. I'm sorry. I thought I'd got it all right. I was sure. I'm sorry. Oh, Goddess."
As the witch's babble subsided Faith interjected questions of her own, "You all right, Giles? What did she want?"
"All right?" Dawn was looking anxiously between the three of them. "Why wouldn't he be all right? What did who want?"
Faith met the watcher's gaze for a moment as he stared over Willow's head at her and wasn't sure what she saw in his eyes. Then his gaze shifted to Willow.
"Willow," Giles said as he gently held the young woman at arms length. "What exactly were you trying to accomplish? I had thought you were beyond this level of foolishness."
"I wasn't being foolish Giles," Willow said. "I researched all the information we had on it. I was careful. I checked everything…" She trailed off under his firm gaze.
Giles said quietly, "Obviously not."
He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, Willow. It is not you that must bear the price of this." Looking around the room he said, "Please excuse me, I need to be alone for a time."
As Giles started for the stairs Willow said, almost desperately, to his back, "At least some good came of it. Nox said she would bring Xander back."
"Nox!"
Faith turned her head at the startled exclamation to see Robin Wood standing in the door to the kitchen with a startled and puzzled expression on his face.
Giles had paused, one hand resting on the banister, and he said, "Let us hope that that is something we wish to have happen."
The watcher continued up the stairs.
Faith looked around at the confused faces of the potentials, at Kennedy as she tried to comfort Willow, at Dawn who returned her gaze anxiously, full of questions, and at Robin who said, "Obviously I missed something big. Care to fill me in?"
Faith said, "Yeah, sure."
Even as she started she took another glance at where Giles had disappeared upstairs.
He hadn't answered her question.
"Charming."
Lara's voice echoed through the cavernous space, to be swallowed up among the shadows.
Xander glanced around at the twisted, weathered, rock and said, "You know, all the bad guys seem to go for the really uncomfortable places: caves, warehouses, drafty castles. I'd think they would have gotten a clue by now."
He caught James glancing toward him, out of the corner of his eye, just before the spy said, softly, "Xander, it might not be the best of ideas to be insultin-"
"It is not about place."
The voice washed over James's, and the spy's words died out under the deep, grinding, wight of that voice.
Lara and Xander each jerked toward the speaker, while James turned in exactly the opposite direction. Xander had an absent thought, praising the spy's paranoid training. The old man, who had led them into the depths of the caves, dropped to his knees, releasing the bone staff.
Lara raised an eyebrow at the staff which stood perfectly upright, unmoving, even as its owner groveled before the figure taking shape in the shadows.
Light crept into the cavern from openings here and there in the ceiling. It wasn't direct sunlight, but reflected, the kind that let you know there was an opening up there, somewhere, but it was far out of your reach.
The light shone down in diffuse patches leaving much of the cavern and it's adjoining spaces in shadow. It was in one of these shadowed areas, the floor sloping perceptibly downwards to a passage that must descend deeper into the earth, that a massive shadow was moving.
Xander felt his pulse jump and he felt Lara beside him, shifting just a little, letting him know she was ready for whatever was about to happen.
Two eyes stared out of the darkness. They were a luminous green, pupilless, glowing with an inner fire. He caught a brief reflection of light off it's skin. It looked almost like stone. Like some kind of volcanic rock.
The voice spoke again. "It is not about place, Unraveler. It is about power. Power flows. It pools, gathers. It is these places we seek."
"What is it with the funky names? Cause I gotta tell you, I think you're mistaking me for-"
"Alexander Harris," the voice buried his protest. "Born in Sunnydale California. Friend of Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenburg. Raised on the Hellmouth. Living in your pitiful ignorance until you encountered the world beneath."
"Uh," Xander said, and glanced at Lara. This was unexpected.
"Yes." The word was a soft hiss out of the shadows. "I know you, Unmaker. I mistake you for no one else."
Lara shifted forward, almost as if ready to step between him and the creature, and said, "How do you know him?"
"I am unbound by your constraints of perception. I am one, the same, throughout all worlds. Such is my nature."
"So you exist in my world, too."
"Yes." It laughed. The sound sending Xander's skin crawling. "And we have an acquaintance in common, you and I."
Xander knew he really wasn't going to like the answer to this but... "Who?"
"William the Bloody."
Okay. That wasn't terribly disturbing. Which was odd. The big bads usually got a gloating tone over things much more distressing than that.
Before his thoughts got any further the thing spoke again.
"I granted him his soul."
Faith stepped out of the kitchen onto the back porch. Where the hell did he go? She'd seen him exit just a second ago.
It was late. Or early rather. Everyone had already gone to sleep. The only apparent exceptions being herself and Giles.
A moment later she caught sight of Giles, sitting in the shadows under a tree. She walked toward him.
"Giles?"
He didn't move.
She, after a moment's hesitation, sat down next to him. The bark was rough against her back, even through the shirt and jacket.
She tried again. "You know, it's probably not the best of ideas for you to be outside, alone, at night. I mean, if a Turok-han or anything else got you we'd be really fu- uh, in trouble."
After a moment he murmured, "I think, given my current status, the result of anything they tried would surprise them."
Huh?
He continued, almost to himself, "Unless the First has some idea of what has happened. But I seriously doubt it's ability to learn anything that Nox wishes hidden."
Yeah. That was the thing that had her out here trying to prod Giles into talking. In the hours since they'd been returned he'd turned himself into a freaking hermit.
In desperation she reverted to her basic bluntness. "So, care to share?"
He regarded her, silently.
Under his regard she shifted and said, "I'm not the First."
"I know," he said. "I felt the vibration when you sat down."
"Ah, good. So, If you know I me, and I'm on your side, why aren't you talking to me?"
His sigh was a sharp, tense sound. "Because this answer is not a simple thing Faith."
"How complicated can it get, G? I ask a question, you answer."
Something inside him seemed to snap. "A bloody lot more complicated than you understand!"
Anger surged up inside. She was trying to help damn it! She yelled right back, "Of course I don't understand; you haven't told me anything!"
She surged to her feet and began to walk back to the house. Fuck him. If he didn't want her help she wasn't going to waste time-
"Faith."
She stopped.
His voice sounded tired. "I apologize. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. It's simply-" he broke off, took off his glassed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. After a moment he tried again. "Come sit back down and I'll try to explain."
She moved back to the tree and sat. Giles began to speak. After a moment Faith felt her eyes go wide. Another couple sentences and she burst out, "You've gotta be pulling my leg. That's cool! Well, maybe aside from the first thing. You could-"
She stopped at the look on his face.
"Cool? I don't think you quite understand, Faith. Think about what I just told you, Faith. Long term. Think not just of the effects, but of what it really means."
Long term? Well, there was obviously how it affected him, but after that... friends, children-
Shit.
She felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.
"In spite of the image you sometime like to project, Faith. You are neither foolish, nor stupid. If you dwell on it for a while I think you'll understand how truly horrible it is."
Double shit.
She was going to be sick. It took a moment to get her mouth to work. "So, saving Red and I-" She forced down bile. "Have you told Willow?"
"No. Not yet. She will not take it well."
"Yeah," she stood, needing to do something, anything. "I'm gonna- Do you need anything?"
"No. Thank you, Faith."
She walked, unseeing, back to the house, pausing only for a moment in the doorway.
She closed the door behind her.
Robin was in the kitchen.
"I heard a shout outside," he said. "But just saw you and Giles talking." He stopped as she stood blankly in the middle of the kitchen. "Are you okay?"
The laugh that forced it's way out of her was in no way motivated by humor. "Compared to Giles? Yeah, I'm great."
She started further into the house.
Robin's concerned voice came from behind her. "Should he be alone out there?"
She didn't answer.
"You-" Xander started, then stopped.
Lara was frowning as she said, "Why would you have his soul? And better yet, why in God's name would you give it back?"
"God had nothing to do with it." Its voice was amused. "The First Evil demanded it be so."
Shit. That was bad. It meant that the First wanted Spike back in Sunnydale.
He put up a braver front than he felt, saying, "The guys will take care of it."
"Will they?" The amusement in the voice redoubled. Then it said, "You have no idea of your significance here."
This guy was jumping topics so fast Xander felt like he was getting dizzy. "I'm not exactly importance guy bucko. You think-"
Laughter flowed out of the shadows, cutting him off and making him shiver, and it said, "Correct. You are nothing."
Okay. Shadowy scary guy was sounding slightly schizophrenic. "You just said-"
"Your significance is not you. It is about place, timing, chance. You are here when you should not be here. In a place that is not yours, across a broken bridge. Your transition at that time, in that way, has created an imbalance. The pressure is building. The web begins to unravel."
Lara's voice cut in before Xander could say anything, he let her; she would understand whatever was said better then he would. "An imbalance? Explain."
"It does not matter. Not now."
He looked at Lara as she glanced at him. He could see the concern in her eyes. A thought struck him and he said, "The vamps in the city."
She nodded, but she was still frowning, as if something didn't quite make sense.
A murmur came from James, prodding them, "Original topic?"
Right. Xander took a deep breath. Whatever this guy was babbling about could wait until the current mess was taken care of.
"We're here to do a favor for you."
Another chuckle came from the shadows. "Indeed."
Okay, this guy was laughing way too much.
After a pause Xander said, "Yes. You probably know about the... other, that's been muscling in on your turf. We'd like to remove it for you. What d'ya say?"
The thing in the shadows didn't answer, it stated, "You seek the Olunde."
He traded glances with Lara even as he felt James tense behind them. Xander said, "Well, that's what got our attention. But don't you think that the other guy having it in your territory would be a bad thing?"
It continued to ignore what Xander was saying, asking, "Do you realize what it is?"
"Beyond being an artifact of chaos and destruction?"
"Merely incidental," it said. "Think Unraveler. You already know what it is. You have felt its presence."
Felt its presence? Why would he have-
Xander felt his eyes widen and his stomach grow cold as the realization hit him.
The voice was a hiss from the darkness. "Yesssss."
Lara had seen his expression. "Xander?"
"A Hellmouth," he whispered. "It's a portable Hellmouth."
Something was weird.
Buffy considered the axe she was holding. It practically hummed in her hand, still in motion while at rest. Something in the blade called to her, demanding to be used. It felt good in her hand, like it belonged there.
But something was still weird.
She glanced around at the Sunnydale night half expecting bringers to leap out at her. It had been too easy. Caleb had beaten her twice before, he'd had her at his mercy at the school, but now it was suddenly like he couldn't fight.
Part of her wanted to accept it as the break they'd been waiting for, that things had simply gone their way for once. God knows they could use it. Nothing had been right lately. Not matter how hard she tried everything just seemed to go wrong.
Now something seemed to have gone right.
And she didn't believe it.
No. As much as she wanted to ignore it, she had to accept the possibility that they wanted her to have the axe. Whatever its was.
She frowned down at it; some recently awakened part of her not trusting how comfortable it felt in her grasp.
Giles. He'd know what it was or at least how to figure it out.
Giles opened his eyes in the darkened room.
Buffy had come back.
He searched for what had alerted him, stirring him from his doze, hoping that there was some normal reason why he suddenly knew that fact with absolute certainty.
There wasn't and he shivered, feeling Nox smile.
The house was still quiet, the silence broken now and then by the movements of those who couldn't sleep. There were many who couldn't sleep.
The tension had been getting to all of them. It seemed worse now than it ever had been. Of course Xander had always-
A sharp stab of grief and worry stopped that thought. Dear God, he hoped the young man was all right.
He pushed himself to a sitting position on the bed and settled his back against the wall. Robin was currently absent from the room, apparently as unable to sleep as Faith.
Faith, who was currently sitting in the darkened kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and brooding over what he'd told her, thinking about-
He violently shut down that train of thought. Yet another thing he shouldn't know. Just like there was no possible way for him to know that Buffy had just spoken with Willow, or tried to, and was now coming to him.
But he did.
Taking a deep breath he prepared himself to try and explain what had happened to the woman he considered a daughter. He hoped she took it better than Willow.
She stepped out of Willow's room nearly running into Kennedy. She paid no attention to whatever it was the younger woman said, her mind focused on one thing: Giles.
Willow had said something had happened to Giles. And judging from Willow's current state something very bad.
It took her seconds to reach her old room where Giles, Xander and Robin had been bunking. She didn't bother knocking, just threw the door open, saying, "Giles?"
The lights were off in the room and the lighting in the hall was turned down, but her Slayer-night vision was more than up to the task. He was sitting on the bed his back against the wall and she felt her heart rate slow as he answered her, "I'm here, Buffy."
He didn't look to be horribly mangled or otherwise hurt. That was good, right? But her gut was still giving her the uber-bad signals.
"Come in," he said. "And close the door behind you. I'd really rather this conversation went no farther than those who already know."
Know what? Oh, God. She couldn't loose Giles too, not after Xander.
She slowly closed the door.
A portable Hellmouth.
It made sense. Lara compared what Xander had told her of what a Hellmouth was with the history of the Olunde. The implications were frightening.
"Bugger," she said, "The chaos and evil surrounding it are just bleed-over and not anything it's actually doing."
Xander glanced away from the demon in the shadows and she met his eyes as he said, "So, those civilizations that were destroyed must have been from someone opening the damn thing."
"No."
The demon's statement drew their collective attention back to it.
"No?" Xander said. "Well then what the hell was the destruction of the Babylonian civilization? A hiccup?"
Lara had a grim suspicion she already knew what the demon was going to say.
"It was their failure to open it; opening it would have meant the end of all."
Yes, that was what she'd thought. Unfortunately.
She noticed motion in the corner of her vision. The old man with the staff was creeping to the side, away from where he had been groveling.
She moved one of her hands to rest on the butt of her gun and her eyes narrowed as she flicked them from the old man to the demon. Frowning, she contemplated what she would need to take it out. Xander began speaking again and she turned most of her attention back to his words.
"Obviously, this other guy having the Olunde in your territory is a bad thing. So why don't tell us where the other guy is and let us remove the issue?"
The thing in the shadows began to laugh.
A combination of irritation and uneasiness washed though her. She opened her mouth to make sarcastic comment when there came three quick, barely audible tapping noises from behind her: James signaling something approaching from the passages behind them.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Xander stiffen, just slightly.
She had the impression that this meeting was about to go rapidly downhill.
"Your assistance is irrelevant." It spoke when its laughter faded. "For unlike the others, I will not fail."
"Fail?" Xander's voice had an odd tone to it. He'd probably guessed the same answer to that question she had.
The massive form moved in the shadows, its bulk shifting. Lara caught the gleam of light on obsidian skin and a flicker of motion that looked like a tail. Then an appendage holding something was raised into the light. In a low rumble the demon answered, "To awaken it."
Lara felt the air hiss through her suddenly clenched teeth. The demon's massive hand was holding a skull. Human and yet not, a deformed, twisted thing. Symbols were etched into the yellowed bone and several objects hung from it on twisted braids of what looked to be hair, objects she suspected she would be glad not to identify.
Xander's voice was tense, but there was no real uncertainty in it; her identifying it was just a formality for what they already knew. "Lara?"
She unlocked her jaw and said, "The Olunde."
Giles watched as Buffy closed the door. Her eyes didn't leave his. There was terror in them, but not for herself. No, he'd rarely ever seen her afraid for own life; she feared for those she loved.
It was with a bit of self-interest that he admitted that rarely the time he had known her had he ever more bitterly regretted that he couldn't comfort that fear.
Her voice held a little quaver as she said, "Giles?
He let his breath out in a soft sigh and said, gently, "Sit down Buffy."
He remained silent as she sank down onto a corner of the bed. After a moment of silence Buffy said, "Say something, Giles. I came from Willow and-" she faltered, momentarily, then continued. "She's curled into a ball in her room. Giles, she's practically catatonic."
"That would be because she feels responsible," he said. "Which, for her own actions, she is. Though, in her defense, she did act with the best of intentions."
The road to hell… The phrase floated though his mind.
"Giles," she sounded desperate. "What happened?"
"Willow tried something she shouldn't have, at least not without consulting someone who knew more than she did. She tried to retrieve Xander. She attempted a summoning."
He noted several emotions flicker across her face before he said, "She was rather more careful than when she resurrected you." Surprisingly she didn't even wince when he mentioned that. "The spell would not have resurrected one who was dead, nor was on required to call upon anything evil to accomplish it."
"However, she called upon two powers, in its casting, that she shouldn't have." he shook his head, "How she got information on either of those two… I'm going to have to have a talk with that girl about researching her sources."
Buffy seemed to take a little heart from his griping over Willow's inadequate research and she said, "But you're both safe. I mean that's good, right?"
"Willow is safe, yes."
He saw the fragile hope that was growing in her die as he didn't continue that sentence.
She looked down for a moment then up saying, "You said she tried to summon Xander. Did it work?"
He felt Nox's interest in that question, but he ignored her, saying, "That is a question to which I don't yet know the answer."
"And you? What about you?"
It was his turn to look down. He took a deep breath and meeting her eyes again said, "one of the entities Willow summoned as rather unfriendly-"
"I thought you said she didn't summon anything evil?"
"Ithaqua, is not evil. Not in the normal sense. he is far older and more alien than that concept. But to continue, one of the other entities, Nox, offered to… deflect, Ithaqua's attentions from Willow and Faith."
"Faith-" she started to say, but cut herself off. Then she said, "And this…Nox, is?"
He had to stop and think about that for a moment. "Nox, Nox is difficult to quantify."
He felt the darkness within ripple in amusement.
"She, though gender is difficult to determine with such beings, is one of the primal spirits of creation. One of the most powerful beings in existence. A force of nature."
Buffy digested that for a moment and then asked, "What did she want?"
Giles sighed; this was the question he dreaded. He hadn't explained it very well with Faith or Willow.
Well, if first you don't succeed, try, try again. "In very inaccurate and most basic terms?"
"My soul."
Buffy stiffened, every muscle going tense. Memories of Angel…Angelus flashed though her mind. She could almost hear Angelus's voice, that horrible laugh, "Come on lover…"
No. God, no. She couldn't do that again. She became aware that she was shaking her head, futilely trying to deny what Giles had said.
Giles, or not really Giles. Not anymore.
"Buffy-"
She jerked back as his hand touched her arm, in an instant she was on her feet and a stride away from the bed.
He stopped what he was about to say and sighed. Pushing his glasses up he massaged the bridge of his nose in a gesture so familiar it made her heart ache.
His voice was a mutter, "I'm explaining this badly, again."
It was an effort but she kept her voice steady. "That seemed pretty clear to me."
"It is most certainly not-"
The door opened. Spike stood in the doorway. "Here you are. One of the potentials downstairs said she'd seen you come in. So what-"
After a brief glance as Spike entered she returned her gaze to Giles, or what had been him. Without looking away she interrupted, "Please leave, Spike."
"Wait a minute-"
This time he was interrupted by Giles, "Spike, get out."
"Watcher," Spike started, but then stopped.
It came out of nowhere as Giles locked eyes with the vampire. Buffy shivered, she could feel… she didn't know what as Giles glared at Spike. It wasn't the unpleasant sick feeling she got from demons and other supernatural creatures. It was indescribable, it sent shivers up her spine even though she could tell that it, whatever it was, wasn't even directed at her.
Spike had gone even paler than his usual corpselike shade.
Giles repeated, softly, "Get out." But there was an unnatural resonance in the words that filled the shadows of the room.
Spike stumbled backwards, one hand fumbling at the door.
It closed, leaving her alone in the room with… something.
Spike leaned back against the wall of the hallway, gasping, trying to ease the tightness in his chest. Bleedin' hell! What the bugger was that?
His hands were shaking.
He'd looked into the watcher's eyes and what looked back was sure as hell not Rupert Giles.
And then he'd left, just like it told him to.
Leaving it alone with Buffy.
Bullocks! He pushed off the wall and took a step back in the direction of the room, and stopped. He couldn't move any farther, it wasn't a matter of choice; he simply couldn't.
Locked into immobility he realized the hallway was growing darker. The lights weren't fading. There was simply more darkness.
Spike stood immobile, unwilling to leave, unable to go forward, as the shadows deepened.
"The Olunde."
Lara's terse words echoed in the cavern. An unpleasant reality, but James kept his full attention away from the demon, trusting Lara and Xander to deal with that threat when it became necessary.
When, not if.
Long experience had taught him that situations like this would always head for the worst possible scenario. If they didn't, well, then it was time to head for the nearest jungle and let Xander try out the contents of his duffle.
This, however, he thought, as the murmurs and footsteps from the passages grew louder, was not the best of scenarios.
The sounds echoed, making them difficult to differentiate, but he'd guess there were several dozen people, at least. If they were armed with modern weapons this could get unpleasant.
The oddness of some of the sounds caused a frown to creep over his face. The rhythm was off.
After a moment he put it together: some of them had multiple sets of legs.
Hum. That didn't bode well. Contingency C, then.
His hand shifted under his coat from his gun to one of the small explosive charges secured in the lining.
He glanced at his watch. Yes, things should be starting outside, right about now.
Xander turned his head to glance at her, saying, "See? I told you. Xander Harris luck." He grinned. "You owe me dinner."
She cocked an eyebrow back at him. "Are you trying to bankrupt me?"
Xander put on an innocent expression. "Are you implying something about my appetite?"
The demon shifted restlessly in the shadows.
"Did I have to imply?"
A low rumbling growl, like rocks shifting echoed in the chamber. Xander had been right about that too; it didn't like being ignored. Damn, she really did owe him dinner.
She sighed theatrically and said, "Oh, very well. I'll just sell the Aston Martin-"
"Whoa! Lets not go too far. You could-"
It cut Xander off in mid-sentence. "Enough!"
Lara frowned. That was just rude; only she was allowed to do that.
"You pitiful apes have no conception of the forces gathering-"
She took a gamble it didn't like being interrupted, either. "You're repeating yourself." She deliberately goaded the thing; she damn well needed it to move. Just a little closer you sack of volcanic rock. "You might want to get the memory checked. Old age you know. Eventu-"
It snarled and shifted toward her.
She moved.
Her hand came out of her jacket, whipping up to hurl the small charge over the demon into the passage behind it.
She hurled herself to the side even as Xander moved the opposite direction.
Xander yelled at the same moment she did, "Fire in the hole!"
A laugh escaped her an instant before she hit dirt and rolled. Adrenaline pounding, she began to grin; this is where the fun started.
The concussion was painful in the confined space of the cave and left her ears ringing. Dust filled the air and she could feel the vibration of shifting stone. She saw motion thought the dust haze from both Xander and James's directions.
The demon had been knocked forward and to the ground. After a moment of stillness it began to move. Damn, oh well. She hadn't thought it would be that easy anyway.
Now where… there!
The Olunde was sitting in the sand a dozen feet from the demon, knocked loose from its grasp. Even as the demon heaved itself up, she dove for it.
Cool bone met her fingertips. Score a point for her team.
She rolled away from the looming shadow of the demon as it reached its full height. Her gun was in her hand by reflex and then it was out, pointed at the demon. She likely wouldn't be able to kill it with her pistols, but she had yet to meet anything that bullets in the eyes wouldn't at least slow down.
To her surprise it didn't rush her.
A horrible sound emanated from it and after a moment she identified laughter.
James's gun began hammering away from the other side of the cave, the loud reports echoing.
And the Demon just stood there, laughing.
There was a cold prickle in her fingertips.
Oh. Bugger.
She looked down at the Olunde.
The eye sockets weren't empty anymore. Or more appropriately, the darkness within them had become so deep as to take on an existence of its own.
And something hideous was looking out at her from that endless void within the skull.