Chapter 1:
Welcome to the Company.
I was in this dimension for three seconds before I was flat on my ass, head aching, gasping for breath on the concrete.
Fucking Class A.
"Xander, are you okay?"
Centering myself like they'd taught us in Company Basic Training, I looked over, and then up, to see- wow she looks young.
I knew that all the actors were over eighteen, but maybe it was my memory, or maybe we were just all the Highschool Sophomores we were supposed to be, but it was still a surprise to see the girl looking so young.
"Xander?" the redhead questioned, squatting down next to me. Then she gasped, "Xander, you're bleeding!"
I winced, as I checked the back of my head, and, while there were a couple of flecks of blood, they weren't anything serious. Once you've been gutted by a dire lion ripping out your entrails in a coliseum where Death did not exist, on a Conceptual level, it really put things in perspective.
Fucking Caesar.
Thankfully, the body I'd slotted into had a pre-prepared response, as I grimaced, and grinned, telling her, "Don't worry, Wills, tis but a flesh wound."
Grabbing my bag, and springing to my feet, feeling the difference Body Talent made compared to my old form, the girl giggled, relieved and taking her cue from me, noting, "At least your arm's not off!"
"See, day's looking up already," I quipped back, using this body's muscle memory to stomp on the back of the skateboard in a way that'd flip it up, letting me grab it easily.
"Don't most days start without your arm off?" she questioned, shooting a half-worried look to the back of my head, but, as I wasn't feeling any blood dripping down my neck, I was fine.
"And thus, most days start off well," I reassured her, the banter easy to fall into, giving me time to look around, and, yep, I was in the nineties. I was only a little kid last time I was in this time period, in my last life, but dimensions ran on different timelines, so it was just as easy to give DaVinci tips on aeronautics as it was to visit the era of one's childhood, if you had the right coordinates, and the means to get there.
Things I currently lacked both of.
For now.
Falling in step with the short girl, who, with the proper coaching, would get to Goddess levels of magical strength, while I didn't have the episodic memories of the person I'd taken over, and all of the attendant emotional ties, I did have his knowledge, including his near-term plans.
"So, Xander's been having some trouble with Math," I stated, which was technically true, as, while I was licensed to teach it myself, the boy was a consummate slacker. Thing was, he had the intelligence to do better, but, with his parents being the duke and duchess of Daniels, (Jack to be specific, with minor territories in the realms of Bacardi, Beam, and Bailey's (but the last only in the morning in their coffee (because they were Irish (they weren't))), he didn't have a ton of motivation, and played up his need for help, as he believed, falsely, that this need was the only thing keeping his best friend around, and not the crush she had on him that was so large it could be seen from space.
"Oh, 'Xander' has?" Willow smiled, going along with the 'joke'. "Which part?"
"The math part of math," I quipped. "Study buddies?"
Smiling indulgently, she questioned, "Well, what's in it for me?"
"You mean other than my sterling personality and rugged good looks?" I grinned, flexing my muscles a little, causing the girl to blush, surprised at the very un-Xander-like move. "Then again I'd be enjoying your sterling personality and naturalistic good looks, so that's a wash. Hmmm. How about a particularly shiny nickel?"
"I, no, you, what?" the girl sputtered, completely caught off guard.
Nodding sagely, I agreed, "I know, 'tis truly a rare thing, that shiny nickel, but for your assistance, milady, I will part with it. So, study buddies?"
Shooting her a smile, I could see her come to the conclusion I was messing with her, which I was, by telling her things that weren't true, which I wasn't, so she rallied, asking me, "Do you have 'Theories of Trig'? You should check it out."
"Wait, I need a textbook other than my textbook?" I frowned, as that was… dumb. And I was speaking here as a licensed educator, from a state with far higher standards than California. "Where would I get it?"
"From the library," Willow noted, a little condescendingly. "Where the books live."
"Lib-rar-y," I slowly sounded out. "Oh, I think I've heard of that!" At her amused look, I nodded. "Then I shall venture deep into this magical realm of knowledge and dust and get… Theories of Trig?" I checked, getting a nod in return. "And meet you, say, tonight, your place, four p.m.?"
"That works," she smiled. "My parents are off at a conference."
Which brought up, not memories, exactly, but pinging the Xander Model in the back of my mind, they were gone ninety percent of the time, leaving Willow to keep the house running, pretty much on her own, though Xander helped, as did Jesse, their mutual friend, on occasion.
Jesse? I thought, the name strange, before realizing that he, ironically, bit it in the first episode or two, and the model of Xander I possessed, alarmed by this, urged me to save his friend.
But I didn't have to, as that was just a VI, a ghost in my machine to give me guidance on how to better fit in, and with no hold on me whatsoever.
That said, I was still going to try.
Just because I now worked for Devils didn't mean I had to act like one, and, in fact, refused to.
"Then it's a date," I replied to Willow, absently, considering my plans, only for her to almost walk into a doorframe, my reflexes pulling her out of the way at the last moment. "Hey, Wills, I know you're excited for school, but trying to be one with it isn't gonna go well for you."
"I, uh, yeah!" the girl, now bright red, agreed, looking at me, blushing, if anything, even more, and then looking away.
"Hey!" a random dude, -Jesse-, Jesse called, coming up and poking me in the chest, but, in, like, a friendly way. "New girl!"
Deciphering the caveman-like speech, I agreed, "Yeah, I think I saw her on the way in. Blonde, seemed nice enough."
"I, I heard someone was transferring," Willow added, trying to be helpful, as was her want.
"So tell," I ordered Jesse, defaulting to my body's mental model to communicate 'properly'.
The taller boy looked at me in confusion, "Tell what?"
"What's the sitch, what do you know about her?" I prodded, as he'd come to us, and I needed an excuse to go bug the newly-arrived Slayer.
The guy looked at me for several seconds, even more confused, as we walked, finally shrugging, and repeating, "New girl!"
"Well, I suppose it's a start," I sighed, and we split up, going to our lockers, and homerooms, which were assigned alphabetically. I nodded back to the people who nonverbally greeted me, this Xander a bit more popular than the OG version, due to his physique, but his low self-worth, combined with his unwillingness to turn on his friends for social status, had kept him pretty much in the 'upper-end-loser' category he would've been without being buff.
More important than that, though, I clasped my hands mostly together, and started to work on my Shroud of Power.
Given where I was, waiting three days for a Capture was not an option, which meant I needed something faster.
I did work in Recruitment, after all.
Finishing my Company Final Exam, whipping my team together to make it in Aincrad, without being 'Players', in a world where Kirito's sister forced his Nervegear off, frying his brain and dooming everyone there to not make it out of that Deathgame intact, I'd run into a bit of a snag.
It honestly wouldn't've been that bad a mission, except Daza had gone and raped a girl, which, outed the fact that some of us weren't playing by the game's system's rules, turning those trapped in Aincrad against us, as they thought we were game admins, with permissions that players didn't have. That had turned ugly, especially since a couple of our targets had gone afield, out into the places filled with monsters that we didn't have superpowered 'Sword Skills' to deal with. We'd still made it with two-thirds of our class intact, including Daza, only for me to find out, after we were done, that we could be traded by our recruiters.
As I teased a thread out from my shirt, up my arm, and into my hands, mentally manipulating it back and forth, the strand turned sharp, forming a tiny jagged blade at the memory of my 'placement meeting'.
I'd been transferred from Class B, the Fey, to Class A, Infernal Devils, as my ability to keep the psychopathic asshats that were most of their recruits in line without murdering them, like I wanted to, was something that was needed, and my new manager, Sabnock, a Lion-headed humanoid wearing a military uniform studded with metals, and armed with a sword and gun, came in to 'inform me' of how I'd be off fighting in the fucking Blood War.
I wanted no part of the eternal conflict between Lawful Evil Devils and Chaotic Evil Demons, and said so, which the creature had brushed off until I quoted him, chapter and verse, my Contract with The Company, which stated that I would not have to work with Evil once I became an Agent, which I did the moment I completed my Final Exam, and, no, he could not declare that 'You're not an Agent until I say you are', because that, too, was part of my Contract!
Then came more lies, then the threats, and, when he tried to Mind Control me into 'agreeing', the Contract Penalty Clause which, as he had assumed the ownership of he was now bound by, set him on fire as a warning before the harsher penalties kicked in.
We'd been at it for what felt like days, but couldn't've been long enough to set off the 'unnecessary delay' clause, when another Devil had come in and had a whispered conversation with my manager, the only words I caught being 'Trap' 'ROBBY' and 'Ronove'.
And then the Devil had changed his approach.
They still wanted my help in the Blood War, but, while I wouldn't be a Commander in an Infernal Army, they offered me a different way to contribute.
Logistics.
If I was willing to recruit for the Chattel-Legions, that would be seen as acceptable, with the option of a commissioned officer's position kept open, if I wanted a pay raise at a later date.
That had been acceptable, as there were a number of places that could be helped by clearing out the local infernal population, and if doing so would keep Demons from rampaging and killing everything in the Multiverse, I could Capture my targets instead of just executing them like I'd planned to.
So out had come the directory, some places, like Highschool DxD and Rosario Vampire, being right out, as half the Demons there were actually okay people.
Working through it, and, having shown that I was willing to work with Class A, within reason, I'd negotiated a secondary Capture-Clause. Those I Captured unwillingly would go to the Chattel-Legions, but those who provided their Verbal Consent, as determined by me, would instead be given normal Company Jobs, with the same protection-set that Company-born workers received, having learned about them from the Company Natives in my Squad in Basic.
In turn, though, I would receive zero points for my Willing Captures, and lose ten percent of the income from my 'forced' recruits, something that Sabnock was visibly surprised to see me agree to immediately.
"I find those terms acceptable, and am dealing in Good Faith, as defined by the Compact of Winter's Eve, and in so doing expect you, my Manager, to perform the execution of this sub-Contract with such considerations as well, or else fall in violation of it, thereby held to the Compact's penalties," I'd told the Devil, which made the being wince, as I wasn't being 'naïve', I was just playing a different game than the one he was. That said, I wasn't playing for blood, which was really my core problem with his initial offer, and dropping a 'take it or leave it' statement as my opening offer showed I could be an absolute asshole about this if I so desired.
The Company had a lot of really hardball methods that its staff liked to ignore outright, as they were purpose built to crack down on the kind of absolute fuckery that led to two Company-wide rebellions and one unequivocal asskicking from the Multiversal forces of Good when my employers had no longer been a lesser Evil. By utilizing those methods, I was binding myself as much as I was him, but was it really being bound when you were doing the thing that you were going to do anyways?
Thus, I was in a place packed full of Demons, which the Devils were perfectly fine using to fight other Demons with, as they found the irony delicious. Additionally, given less than two percent of the hellishly inclined nearby were anything close to Non-Evil, and those beings stayed far away from the Hellmouth, I pretty much had free rein to capture to my heart's content without needing to worry about damning anyone to infernal combat that didn't deserve it.
However, despite the plethora of mid-to-high tier threats around, this world was only a Tier Four, which meant my starting budget was… limited.
Of the 140 I started with, Possession of Xander, which weirdly enough came with the skills he'd pick up throughout his time Slaying, despite my now young age, had been five points, Body Talent's increasing of my physical capabilities had been another five, the Shroud had been Sixty. Both Destiny and Information Defense, at the Resistance level, had been goddamned required to not get instantly snuffed out by the First Evil, but had, even with the discount I got from being Xander, the man's fate-breaking and investigative talents harmonizing with the two, still cost me another sixty points, leaving ten to pick up Body and Stress resistance, at five each, to deal with all sorts of supernatural diseases, poisons, and fear effects.
The fact that I hadn't had enough to pick up anything that stopped mind control, which was very much a thing here, was a fact that I didn't like, but the rank and file baddies didn't have that, only the heavy hitters, though it was the first thing I was going to be picking up once I had the points.
Making the tiny little blade dance and shift, I started to get a handle on it, my mental-model of the real Xander thinking it was cool, the ghosted intelligence set to how Xander should be now, and completely divorced from the skillset that he'd later gain.
And then there was Xander himself, and why I didn't feel bad about Possess-ing him. Because there were a number of people, like Jaune Arc, Jon Snow, and James Howlett, that would, at the end of their journey, be okay with someone else going 'back' to the beginning of it, replacing them, and making things better. Of them, Alexander LaVelle Harris was one of the stronger examples of such a person in the multiverse, or at least of the bits of the Multiverse that the Company had currently mapped out.
As the bell rang, I snapped the thread back into my shirt, which was really just an expression of my Shroud, which had in turn subtly eaten my outfit the moment I arrived, and we all headed for class, as I was still getting used to being able to walk the halls without the looks I would've gotten as a teacher.
Hearing a clatter, I glanced over, seeing Buffy, and noting that she'd managed to dump the entirety of her purse into the hall. Slayer reflexes when?
Then again, maybe those only kicked in when she was attacked, and did nothing for the uncaring idiocy of her fellow students. Walking over, I kneeled down to help her grab her stuff, offering, "Hey there, new girl. Not sure if your old school was nicer, but Sunnydale High's a 'look both ways before crossing the hall' kinda place."
Wasn't expecting the wide-eyed, open-mouthed 'deer in the headlights' look from her, but, then again, this wasn't the battle-hardened Buffy my pseudo-Template was used to, was it? This girl had dealt with exactly one group of vampires, had her Watcher killed in the process, and had then been promptly kicked out of school.
"I, uh, what?" she sputtered.
"Situational awareness," I simplified, handing her her things, which she numbly accepted, able to put them away much faster than she could alone as I continued feeding them to her. "Something good in and out of school around here," I added, voice low, as if I was imparting secret advice, handing her a makeup case.
"Is, is it that bad?" Buffy asked just as quietly, glancing around the unassuming hallway, the other students giving us a wide berth.
"During the day, the most you'll get is some social humiliation," I reassured her, motioning to the mess I was picking up, and she continued to put away. "At night, there are some serious weirdos. Oh, right, manners, I'm Xander, Xander Harris, at your service, apparently," I added, handing her a notebook.
"Glad to be serviced," the blonde informed me reassuringly, pausing at her own phrasing. "And, Buffy, Buffy Summers. But, go back a mo', what do you mean weirdos?"
"Weirdos," I shrugged, grabbing the wooden stake, which had rolled away. "I give them a wide berth. That said," I offered, holding up the weapon, causing the Slayer's eyes to widen, "Not my go to for self-defense, but it seems effective. Maybe you could talk to my friend Willow about that. She's book-smart, but she thinks the only thing that goes bump in the night are drunks."
Buffy snatched the anti-Vampire implement from my hand, and, from her wary look, I'd overplayed my explanation, as she asked, "What other things of the bumpy variety are there?"
"Robbers, Drug Dealers, lost clubbers who don't take no for an answer and wear a surprising amount of leather," I listed off, carefully not paying attention to her as she stiffened for the last one, "In general, weirdos I don't want anything to do with, and neither do you." Standing, she stood with me, "So, know where you're going, or you need a guide."
"Uh, I've got Ms. McConnel for History?" she offered.
I went over my mental map of the school, from Xander's memories, and winced, as I would be late for class if I walked her there myself. "Okay, that's the complete opposite direction of where I'm going, so, down that hall, second staircase up one floor, straight across, first left, and I think third door on your right," I instructed. "Look for the older woman, sleeveless sweater, whose constantly bored-peppy in that way that you can tell she's memorized every speech she gives a decade ago, and is just going through the motions until she retires, or dies."
Buffy blinked. "Harsh?"
"No, what's harsh is staying awake during her class," I countered, getting a smothered laugh from the girl. Pointing down the way, I gestured, making a model of the route, "So, down, second staircase, across, left, probably third right. Got it?"
She smiled, and, yeah, she was kind of cute, if young.
But, then again, so was I now.
"Got it!" she nodded, a lot more upbeat than she'd been a moment ago. "Seeya round, Xander!"
"You too, Buffy," I replied, taking off without looking back, trying to remember how their original meeting had gone, but, to be fair, I watched this show like a decade ago, and so I just had to assume things were going okay.
Honestly, I'd mentally checked out after the entire 'Zeppo' debacle in the second, or maybe the third season, and hearing about how they'd treated Xander like Idiot Cousin Jeb later on had pretty well soured me on this show, leading me to drop it when they got to college and things got worse, getting the rest of what happened, like Glory, through fandom cultural osmosis. That was, ultimately, why I was willing to come here for my first world, as, while I'd help the white hats win, and decrease the surplus demon population, I didn't really care about anyone here.
So, good news? The work in English class, where I didn't have to pretend to be an idiot, was stupidly easy.
Bad news? Me doing my work quickly got my paper torn up, in front of the entire class, thrown on the ground, and got me told not to just copy from my friend, because I wasn't that good, and how I needed to pick up 'my mess'.
If I gave a damn, I might actually care what the balding, middle aged man that taught our class, one that I literally had my degree in, thought of me, instead of turning, as everyone was staring, and called, "Hey, Wills! You done with the assignment yet?"
Put on the spot, the redhead stammered. "U-uh, not quite?"
Turning back to the surprised looking asshat, I told him, "She's the Science and Math girl, I'm the Arts guy. It's our thing. So you gonna pick up the mess you made of my paper, put it back together, and give me the A I deserve, or are you gonna continue pretending that iambic pentameter is some mythical language, that plebians like me are too witless and barren of understanding to ever decipher, instead of just a one-two pattern of ten syllables per line."
Which is how I got sent to the principal for 'Insubordination'.
But, having knowledge of Xander's dealings with that insult to literary pedagogy before, who'd sent former-me to the office for sleeping, which he did, chewing gum, which he did but wasn't against the rules, and for insubordination, which he didn't but I did (arguably), I knew the dickbag never called down to tell them I was coming, and just used it as an excuse to bully me, because if he'd recorded every incident then eventually people would start asking questions.
Or, they probably would.
This was the Hellmouth, so who the fuck knew what actually happened.
Instead, and with lunch after this, I headed straight for the library, both to get the book Willow had suggested, and to make contact with the other new, supernaturally aligned transplant to Sunnydale High, Rupert Giles, Watcher of Slayers. Which, in retrospect, was a much creepier title than it was probably meant to be.
Entering the area, despite the fact that I knew the Hellmouth was directly under my fucking feet, it was still… oddly comforting, like coming home. And, given that I'd spent nearly as much time in the library as I did at home, growing up, if one discounted sleeping, that made a good deal of sense.
I hadn't earned the nickname, 'The Book Kid' for nothing, after all, though it was one of many, my favorite being 'Leecifer', though, for the life of me, I had no idea if the group of classmates that called me that meant it as a compliment or an insult.
Regardless, glancing over, the Watcher was not being watchful, in his office, letting me silently ascend the stairs and enter the stacks, able to find the book I was looking for pretty easily, but then able to… peruse.
Oh, there were a number of supernatural grimoires here, and I pinged my inner Xander, the boy having recalled something about the new librarian had brought a bunch of books with him, which wasn't how school librarians worked, but, hey, Sunnydale Syndrome.
Slipping one out, it was in Latin, which I only knew the basics of, the Latin class at my high school an utter joke, though the picture of the sarlacc-like pit labelled os inferni was pretty dang clear, if one knew that 'ostial' meant the opening of a tube, though, now that I thought about it, that was actually a pretty niche medical use, the closest osteo, which meant bone, having nothing to do with…
Wait, I could read this.
Clearly.
How?
Skimming through the passage, I felt the knowledge there, with no knowledge of how I knew…
Right. My Psuedo-Template.
I'd had to pay the full Tier Three price for this Possession, despite the current Xander being Tier One, and so that meant I got an unempowered 'Template', but one that would play nicely with Template Stacking since it harmonized with my body instead of glomming onto my soul directly. That meant, now that I queried it, I realized I could read Greek, Latin, Sumerian, Sanskrit, Spanish, Swahili, French, German, Akkadian, Egyptian, Romanian, Hebrew, Gaelic, Aramaic, Arabic, Ancient Arabic, all three kinds of English, Italian, Japanese, and, for some reason, Klingon.
… Huh.
Well, looking over it, yeah, this book seemed familiar, though I couldn't remember ever reading it, as the stripped 'Template' didn't contain any future knowledge, but the shadow of it remained. This page was talking about the 'mouth of hell', or really 'hellish mouth', being quite flowery in how the fumes of its infernal stomach would waft up and taint the land, bringing carrion eaters and blood drinkers in like flies to rotting meat, and, knowing what it was referring to, the 'mosquitos' were very clearly a reference to Vampires, which the writer rightfully did not approve of.
Putting it on top of my math book, I skimmed the older titles, standing out like sore thumbs against the aged 70's and 80's style colored textbook covers, but glancing through a couple I noticed that while they all said a lot of vague things, none of them were exactly firm on actionable details, other than the very basest of ones. That said, as I moved I felt a Defense start to hum, subtly growing stronger and weaker as I walked down one aisle in particular, playing hot and cold with it, until I finally ended up with my fingers on a Greek tome, opening it up even as, given my sparse set of abilities, Destiny Defense held off something's passive attempts to make me avoid it.
Flipping through the grimoire, using that same metric to hone in on the pages, detailing what something tried to declare should not be read, the page in question was waxing poetic on how the fumes of the Hellmouth, or 'Tartarianí Pýli' 'addled the minds of its breathers and occluded them from the sight of any that may lend aid'. It was very clearly the 'Sunnydale Syndrome' that masked the goings on of this town from the outside world, and made locals overlook things like the fact that the School Paper had an Obituary Section.
Including, up to this point, Xander, and, now that I thought about it, I could feel it working on myself, my training in Basic such that I could barely sense the incredibly faint tugging at the edge of my consciousness, due to the fact that I hadn't yet gotten Mind Defense.
It was a subtle, insidious, thing, and, pausing to meditate between the stacks, I could focus on it, now that I knew what to look for, the sensation marginally clearer as I got closer to the circle of tiles that was the apex of the Hellmouth. It was only my training under Psyche, Greek goddess of the Soul, that let me understand it, the woman's portfolio extending to the mind, in terms of psychology, which made a certain sense, as opposed to Wisdom which was Athena's shebang. Spreading my senses out, lowering mental walls, it pressed at me, pulled at me, massaged the edges of my perception with a cloying sweetness that hid an inner rot.
To assume I knew what was going on, so I didn't need to study.
To believe that everything was fine, so I didn't need to investigate.
To know that I was stronger than any other, so I didn't need to train.
It was a subtle arrogance, that, if I accepted, would make me weak, and, I had to wonder, if, given how much time the main cast had all spent here, if they were the way they were because they spent so much time practically bathing in the Hellmouth's concentrated essence.
It would certainly explain some things.
Buffy would come to believe she was all powerful, so would never seek greater strength, while pushing away the help of others.
Willow would come to believe she was all knowing, so would never seek to check her conclusions, while pushing away the wisdom of others.
Giles would come to believe he was all understanding, so would never seek to understand those he believed were his to guide and protect, while ignoring the failing mental states of his charges.
And Xander would come to believe he was all failing, so would never seek to achieve his potential, nor gainsay his betters past minor comments, lacking any kind of strength or follow through.
No wonder Angel never spent more time here than he needed to; this place probably strengthened Angelus something fierce.
Which, if I was feeling uncharitable, and holy shit this place was pushing me to feel uncharitable, I would say was another failing of Liam's, looking out for himself and only himself, but I only understood what was going on due to specialized instruction that no one in town, possibly no one in this dimension, possessed.
And, opening my eyes, I could see my Shroud had transformed, armoring me up, long black tendrils, like a spiky spiderweb by way of Venom, billowing out, drifting in an invisible current that seemed to come from the front of the Library, where the Hellmouth sat.
Because Liam, Angel, was a coward, and a layabout, and an emo pretty-boy whiner with a jock's build, and had been so for long before he'd gotten to Sunnydale, but he wasn't malicious, and, if he'd known what was happening, he would've kept dropping cryptic hints until the Scooby Gang had finally twigged and moved out of the fucking library.
But Angel was not a scholar, he was just a two-hundred year old soul, ripped from Heaven and shoved into the corpse of his body that the Blood Demon Angelus had taken over, forced to retroactively experience everything it'd done with his body, because Gypsies were fucking assholes. He'd picked up some knowledge, just by sheer dint of living in this place's version of the Moonlit World, but he himself did not seek to master his fate, which, unless he was mind-fucked into doing so, left me feeling nothing but disgust for the man, but, in the face of something that the show had never explicitly mentioned, well, that made a world of difference, and I suddenly wasn't sure that Angel's decisions were Liam's anymore.
The sudden bell made me jump, landing silently on the softened soles my Shroud created, cladding me in something between a ninja's getup and the battle-rattle I'd worked on in my Armorsmithing Seminar, Celebrimbor an elitist dick of an instructor, but one who knew his shit. A pure-black longsword sprouted from one hand, a dagger from the other, but I could tell that I literally couldn't let go of it, the weapons connected by a thin strand until I purchased the ability to manifest multiple Shrouds at once. On one hand, that meant I could never throw my weapon until I got it, or leave them in something, but on the other hand I could see myself pulling some Scorpion-level 'Get Over Here!' bullshit even with this.
But I wouldn't really need to learn how to do that, would I-
Holy shit this stuff's insidious.
Taking a moment to firm my focus, I realized I'd never stopped opening myself up to the Hellmouth Taint, to better identify it, which was stupid, and the exact kind of oversight it preyed upon, possibly even the kind of oversight that it actively created.
Note to self, get Giles to identify the location of the Hellmouth ASAP, and start asking questions until he realizes why being here is dumb, I thought, raising mental walls. And if he doesn't, bring out the books to cite it chapter and verse after a week of 'investigation'.
"Hello?" I heard Buffy call, "Is anybody here?" I wondered why she was here, and started to walk over, seeing Giles silently come up behind her, which, what? The man carefully reached out and tapped the supernatural combatant with grafted on martial instincts on the shoulder as she glanced over to read the paper, only for the Slayer to turn around with a gasp, not punching him in the face like I probably would've, or expected her to do, remarking instead as she looked at him, "Anybody's here."
"Can I help you?" the British man enquired.
"I was looking for some, well, books," she said, as I peered out from the stacks, watching the Watcher, as I was apparently the one that did so. "I'm new," the blonde added, clearly nervous.
"Ms. Summers?" Giles questioned with an interested excitement that, without context, seemed pretty inappropriate.
"Good…call," she replied, shrugging. "Guess I'm the only new kid, huh?"
"I'm Mister Giles," the Watcher replied, adding, only now remembering his cover, "the Librarian. I was told you were coming."
Buffy's grimace peeking through her forced cheer was clear, as the man moved around the check-out desk, and she said, "Great. So, um, I'm gonna need Perspectives on Twentieth Century-"
"I know what you're after!" the man interrupted, still almost indecently excited, reaching underneath a desk and bringing out a thick tome, that, in big brass letters, read VAMPYR on the cover.
"That's not what I'm looking for," the Slayer replied, dismayed.
"Are you sure?" the Watcher replied smugly, and I wondered if the man had ever worked with teens, as… this was setting off even my 'Stranger Danger' senses.
Backing up, Buffy stated, "I'm way sure."
"My mistake," the man stated, confused, moving to put the book away, the girl bolting as soon as he bent over, the man standing as he asked, "So what was it you said…" and she was gone.
Looking thoughtful, he returned to his office, and I stealthily snuck out the non-squeaky door moments later, heading to lunch, taking the three books with me, the textbook and the two Grimoires on the Hellmouth.
Looking for my friends, Jesse found me, the boy… just not that bright, but he meant well, it was only, how do I put it, both heads seemed to have the same amount of braincells, with maybe his lower one possessing a few more?
Exchanging manly grunts, nods, and fist bumps, I spotted Willow… sitting with Buffy.
I get it, world, we're the protagonist group, I couldn't help but think, walking over to them, approaching the waist-high wall that served as a divider, and leaning against it, peering over the top at my friends, both childhood and not-yet. "Buffy!" I greeted the Slayer, "It feels like only a few days since I saw you last."
"It was this morning," she replied, smiling back, something that made Willow frown.
"It's been a long morning," I nodded sagely. "You advising our dear Wills here in the fine art of self-defense?" I questioned, making a thrusting motion, as if holding onto an invisible stake.
"Self-defense?" the red-headed girl echoed, confused.
"No!" the blonde quickly replied, catching the attention of Xander's, my, two friends. "I was actually asking Willow if she could help me with my studies!"
The other girl nodded, informing me, "She was."
"Ah, smart move. Willow is quite the studier. Did you have a time in mind, like, after school?" I questioned, glancing to my female friend, putting the ball in her court.
"I was thinking sixth period, since I have that free," the girl offered, expression clearly wanting me not to mention our own study period later on.
"That works. I, too, am Study-buddies with the inestimable Ms. Rosenberg," I revealed. "But remember, Wills, having more than one Study-Buddy is fine, as long as they all know about each other, so as not to create conflicts or confusion. They can even study together, though, as long as they are all consenting studiers, that isn't required."
"I, uh, okay," Willow replied, confused, while Buffy was clearly getting that I was talking about something else, which, to be fair, I absolutely was.
Nodding, the blonde turned to Jesse, asking, "And are you a 'study-buddy' too?"
"What? Nah. I don't study," the lanky boy shrugged, shaking his head. "It's those two that are in the smart-person classes."
"Our Jesse here is more of a dancer than a studier," I noted.
"Oh, well, I like dancing," the Slayer offered, saw me minutely shake my head, and asked, "I don't?"
I sighed, "Sadly, Jesse only wishes to dance with one partner, and her card is full. Oh, look, here she is now!" I waved, as Cordelia, 'Queen B', if B stood for Bitch, walked up to us.
"Are these guys bothering you?" the arrogant girl questioned, shooting a dismissive glare at the rest of us, which went right over Jesse's head, both figuratively and literally, while Willow cringed a little, and I met the dark haired girls' look with a flat one of my own, which seemed to cause the Latina some confusion.
"Uh, no!" Buffy smiled, looking around at the rest of us.
"She's not hanging out with us," Willow stated, trying to jump on that social grenade, and missing completely.
More adroitly, even if accidentally, Jesse stood, greeting the newest member of our conversation with a, "Hey, Cordelia-"
"Ohplease," the rich girl shot back quickly, waving him away, and focusing back on Buffy. "I don't mean to interrupt your downward mobility, but I just wanted to tell you that you won't be meeting Coach Foster, the woman with the chest hair, because Gym was cancelled due to the extremely dead guy in the locker!"
The Slayer's eyes widened, as she muttered, "what."
"What are you talking about?" Willow added.
"Some guy was stuffed in Ora's Locker," Cordelia repeated.
Buffy confirmed, "Dead."
"Totally dead, way dead!" the rich girl agreed, with an odd amount of excitement over it.
"Damn, that's the fourth one this month," I remarked blandly.
The Slayer's head snapped over to me so fast I was worried she'd hurt something, as she demanded, "What!?"
"No, they weren't in lockers. One was in the pool, and the other was in the parking lot, and the last one was in the nurse's office," Willow disagreed. "Which is kinda funny, in a terrible way."
"I meant dead in general," I countered.
My intelligent friend considered that, then nodded. "Oh, then yeah. Is that a lot?"
"Yes!" Buffy replied, looking panicked.
"Not for here," I shrugged, the girl giving me a look of borderline outraged disbelief. "It really isn't," I informed her, wondering if her own supernatural abilities gave her a resistance to the Hellmouth's effects, though clearly not immunity, or if it was merely her knowledge that the supernatural did exist that made it harder for her to default to dog-in-burning-house levels of 'this is fine.'
"You know," Jesse told Cordelia, "if you need a shoulder to cry on, or just nibble on," provoking an annoyed sigh from the object of his affections.
"How did he die?" the Slayer checked, with barely-hidden dread.
Shrugging, the rich girl told us, "I don't know."
"Well, were there any marks?" the supernaturally-experienced girl pressed.
"Morbid much!" the girl who'd been oh so happy to share with us the news of the dead guy on campus chastised. "I didn't ask!"
Looking around, clearly at a loss for words, Buffy grabbed her lunchbag and purse, and stood up, telling us, "Um, I gotta book; I'll see you guys later," and ran off.
"What's her deal?" Cordelia asked disparagingly, as the Slayer went to investigate.
"Maybe they don't have as many dead people in LA schools?" I offered.
"Pfft, as if," the rich girl scoffed. "Have you seen the crime stats?"
"Maybe she was from the rich part of town?" I tried instead.
That got the other girl thinking, admitting, "Yeah, they'd probably be better at covering it up. Wait, why am I talking to you? Later, losers." And then she strode away.
Vaulting the wall and taking Buffy's seat, I reached into my pack and pulled out the single apple Xander had packed for lunch, munching on it, asking Willow, "So, new Study Buddy?"
On the spot, the redhead apologized, "I'm sorry, she just-"
"Nah, it's cool," I cut her off. "The Buffster seems like good people."
"She does, doesn't she," Willow mused. "But, well, she's Cordelia's friend."
"Everyone makes mistakes," I reassured the nerdy girl. "And Cordy's got generally good taste. A horrible everything else, but good taste."
"Hey," Jesse objected, "that's my girl you're talking about."
Both of us started at him.
"I mean, not right now," he admitted. "But soon!"
"Riiiiiight," I agreed, looking to Willow. "So, how are you?"
"Pretty good!" she shrugged. "Though I did want to ask. Iambic Pentameter?"
"You're a big panther?" Jesse questioned, confused, which was kind of his default state.
Ignoring him, I told her, "I think it was on an episode of Star Trek, where a holographic Shakespeare became self-aware or something."
"Oh, that explains it," she sighed, nodding. "Um, do you want some of my chips?"
"I'll be happy to share whatever you're offering, Wills," I smiled, grabbing a few Fritos from the offered bag, the girl, nodding, pausing, and looking at me with a bit of confusion, while Jesse pulled out his lunchbox, containing the meal his mom prepared for him, and we ate in comfortable silence.
Having Biology and then Trigonometry with Willow after lunch, where I pretended not to know either, despite being licensed to teach the latter, and having worked to tutor students in the former for years, was a bit of a pain. Willow did her best to try and explain the worksheet we were doing as we did it, which was actually kind of adorable, since the girl really knew her stuff, but, ironically, like our math teacher, wasn't the best at communication, though she was cheerfully optimistic in comparison to Ms. Chipnail's dead-inside-drone.
"Wow, Xander, I didn't even need to repeat myself!" my friend commented with a smile, and I froze, thinking I'd been playing down my intelligence enough, when apparently I hadn't been.
"Well, that hit to the head this morning really got my noggin' joggin'," I grinned in return. "Maybe I should even make it a regular thing!"
"No, don't!" the ginger gasped. "I've read studies about how repeated head trauma can have the exact opposite effect!"
God, she was just so earnest that I wanted to pat her on the head and call her a good girl, but manfully reined myself in, telling her, "Wills? I was joking."
"Oh. I-I knew that," the teen replied, childishly, which played into the stereotype, but, given the intellectuallyarrogant asshole she'd become, just made me grimace, which she read, reversing course and admitting, "No I didn't."
Wait, if Xander thought she was only around because she could help, is the opposite true? I wondered, taking a risk, putting my hand on hers, which rested on the seam where our pushed together desks met. "Wills," I told her softly. "It's okay not to know things. I don't know things all the time, and you still like me."
"Oh, no Xander, it's okay that you don't, I mean it's not good but-" she started to babble, and I squeezed her hand slightly, shutting her up as she blushed.
"But I'm learning," I continued, as if she hadn't spoken, "and you need to learn that you're my friend because I like who you are, not just because you're smart." Letting go of her, I grabbed, my pen, the next question's Pythagorean Triple of 15, _, 39 pretty obvious, so I wrote in 36. "We can both be smart no problem."
"Oh, Xander, that's not the answer," she told me in what I'm pretty sure she thought was a reassuring way, but really just came off as matriarchically condescending, "It's thirty-six!"
I looked to her, then at my paper, then back to her, then back at my paper, then back to her. "Yeah, Wills, that's why I wrote down thirty-six."
"No you…" the girl stopped, and frowned, looking back up to me. "You… did?"
"You just explained how they worked, Wills, and how it worked on multiples too, so if five, twelve, and thirteen is one, then if you multiply everything by three then…" I stated leadingly, like I would with one of my students, purely by reflex.
The Xander-Ghost in the back of my head was shocked as well, and a little dismayed, as I watched Willow visibly transition, from confusion, to disbelief, to anger, to guilt, to worry, and then to a kind of sickened happiness. "Good job?" she offered, clearly not meaning it.
"Thanks!" I smiled brightly. "But, still, four-o'clock tonight!"
The look of non-comprehension on her face meant my guess on her thought process was correct, as she replied, "What for? You already know this."
With a quiet but overly-dramatic gasp, I looked at the paper in shock. "You mean that's all there is to Trigonometry!? What are we going to do for the rest of the year!?"
"What? No, there's more-" Willow tried to argue, but I cut her off.
"Cool, we'll study that," I shrugged. "And maybe I can get higher than a C on a test for once! I mean, probably not," I looked off into the middle distance, " but a boy can dream, can't he?"
That got a giggle from the girl, "Of course you can dream, Xander. But, are, are you sure? I know how you are with studying."
"Well you have been telling me that I should for, what, a decade?" I shot back with a grin. "Maybe I finally decided it was time to pay attention to you. Sorry it took so long."
"That'sokay!" she squeaked, reddening again, and dear god this girl was fun to tease. "So, Study? Tonight?"
"Your place," I told her, adding, "Which means I will have to enter that realm of forbidden eldritch erudition known only as… The Library."
"It's not that bad," Willow laughed. "I actually like studying in our school's library!"
Which, itself, is worrying, I thought, but I needed to investigate how the Hellmouth Taint functioned before I made any moves, so deferred, "Honestly, I'd rather study at your place."
"Studying at my place works too," she quickly agreed, as the bell rang. "S-See you then?"
"See you then," I confirmed, heading for the Hellmouth, trying to find the Watcher, but, unfortunately, he wasn't in his office, and something about this place made me not want to call out even more than a normal library did, so I quietly entered the stacks, looking for him, trying to not think too hard about how, now that I was actively resisting its influence, it felt like I'd entered the lair of particularly large and fell beast...
I'd barely been there a minute when someone burst through the doors, Buffy's voice demanding, "Okay, what's the sitch!?"
"Sorry?" Giles called out, from the next aisle over, neither of them clearly having my compunction against making loud noises.
"You heard about the dead guy, right?" the Slayer demanded. "The dead guy in the locker?"
Hesitating, the Watcher replied, "Yes?" as he moved to the front.
"Cause, it's the weirdest thing," Buffy remarked angrily. "He's got two little little holes in his neck and all his blood's been drained out. Isn't that bizarre? Aren't you just going 'oooh?'"
"…I was afraid of this," Giles noted.
"Well I wasn't," she replied, showing that neither of them had done any research on this place, or, at least, any research that'd pierced the veil of normality over the Hellmouth. "It's my first day," Buffy almost whined, like that meant anything.
Though, if she assumed the Vampires were drawn to her, and not the only mostly shut interdimensional portal beneath our feet, that'd kind of make sense.
"I was afraid that I was gonna be behind in all my classes," the blonde remarked. "That I wouldn't make any friends, that I would have last month's hair! I didn't think there'd be vampires on campus," she declared, somewhere between angry, despairing, and resentful. "And I don't care."
"Then why are you here?" Giles questioned, a little condescendingly, and I suddenly understood why he and Willow had ended up getting along so well.
Buffy was silent for a few seconds, finally settling on, "To… tell you… that…I don't care. Which… I don't," she argued, though it sounded like she was arguing with herself. "And… have now told you. So…bye!"
"Is he, will he…" the older man started to ask, trying to find the words himself, showing that, despite his age, he was absolutely green as a field agent, "rise again?"
The blonde, who'd started to leave, turned back, asking, "Who?"
"The boy," Giles prodded, a little exasperated.
"…No," Buffy admitted, like she didn't want to know the answer, but didn't want to cause the man unnecessary trouble. "He's just dead."
"Can you be sure?" the Watcher pressed.
"To make you a vampire, they have to suck your blood," she responded, with the air of someone quoting, or at least paraphrasing, something she'd memorized. "And then you need to suck their blood. It's like a whole big sucking thing. Mostly, they're just gonna kill you… why am I still talking to you?"
Again, she started to leave, but Giles walked after her, neither of them noticing me as I silently moved forward, the older man demanding, "You really have no idea what's going on, do you? You think it's coincidence, your being here? That boy was just the beginning!"
No he wasn't, I thought, frowning. This has been going on for years!
Buffy whirled back around, "Oh why can't you people just leave me alone!" she demanded in turn.
"Because you are the Slayer," the Watcher pronounced, giving me an excuse, now I just needed to figure out how to use it. But he wasn't done, going full hog on the explanation. "To each generation a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world. A Chosen One. One born with-"
"The Strength and Skill to hunt the Vampires," the Slayer snidely finished for him, even as, now that I thought about it, that explanation was utter bullshit, as most Slayers were called when they were sixteenish and didn't make it to eighteen, so, assuming a year of active duty before they died, it was more like to each generation twenty Slayers are born, give or take a few depending on luck and circumstance. One girl in all the world, at a time.
"Stop the Spread of Evil, Blah blah blah, I've heard it, okay?" Buffy aggravatedly informed the British man.
Shaking his head, Giles replied, "I really don't understand this attitude. You've, you've accepted your duty, you've, you've slain vampires before."
"Yeah," the Slayer shot back, "And I've both 'Been There' and 'Done That', and I'm moving on."
Holding up a finger, Giles started to walk back to his office, turning his back to her, and I was honestly surprised Buffy didn't leave again, the man asking from the next room over, "What do you know about this town?"
"It's two hours on the freeway from a Neiman Marcus?" Buffy shrugged.
Taking my cue, I spoke up, and offered, "There's also the Hellmouth."
I could hear Giles stumble in his office, scrambling out frantically, while Buffy turned, falling into a combat stance, while I just stared at them both, unruffled, leaning against the banister.
"I-I beg your pardon?" the Watcher asked, wide eyed, looking to Buffy, as if asking her why she hadn't said anything about my presence, only to get the exact same glance from her in turn.
"No need," I shrugged. "There's a Hellmouth somewhere in, or right outside, this town. No one here seems to notice, but, I did a school report last year and realized this place wasn't fucking normal. Also, English, Vamps didn't show up because the Slayer's here, they've always been here. Buffster, the 'Weirdos' I mentioned? That's them. But I've tried to warn others, and they just thought I was crazy. Played it off as a joke, so I didn't get tossed in a pillow room with an extra fun jacket that let me hug myself all day long, but it was a close thing, so I stopped calling them what they really are."
From the look of pain in her eyes, my statement hit especially hard, though I wasn't sure why.
"Regardless, I try to warn people, where I can, but it doesn't do much. And so you're the Slayer, huh?" I asked, giving the girl a once-over. "When I heard about her, I wished she'd show up."
"Well," the blonde replied, still off balance. "I'm showing now."
I glanced down at her stomach. "Not really," I offered, "maybe in a month or two, but mazel tov, I guess."
The girl looked confused, then realization dawned and she glared at me, while I tried not to laugh.
"Though," I continued, "I'm happy to get confirmation that I'm not crazy, and the town isn't just overrun by mutated serial killers. And, somehow, despite the Stranger Danger act, you're still less creepy than the last Librarian we had, English, who might have been a cultist, before he disappeared, leaving trails of blood on the floor over there." I nodded towards the apex of the Hellmouth, which, in retrospect, the insane asshat had probably been trying to open.
And he might've even succeeded, just for a moment, before he learned why it was a Hellmouth and not a Helldoor.
"Maybe he summoned something he couldn't handle?" I guessed. "Is that a thing?"
"It, it is," the man, who'd done that very thing, admitted regretfully. "Though, there is something I am having trouble understanding Mr…"
"Harris, Xander Harris," I informed him.
"Yes, Mr. Bond," the British man remarked, dryly, before shaking his head, and getting back on track. "But, if this has been going on for as long as you say, why are we only now hearing about it?"
Walking down, I opened my bag and pulled out the Grimoire I'd snagged, the one that Destiny didn't want me to read, the older man questioning, disapprovingly, "Is that one of my books?"
"Dude, you put your books on the library shelves. People are going to check them out. It's literally the purpose of a public library," I shot back, opening it up, and flipping through the pages, Buffy drifting over beside me, curious despite herself.
"Mr. Harris, this is in Greek," the Watcher pointed out.
"Yeah, and?" I shrugged.
Peering over his glasses, the older man demanded, "You're expecting me to believe that an American High School Student knows Greek?"
"My parents told me I was a terrible person, which is why they beat me, and told me the answer was in the Bible. So I taught myself how to read. Then they told me I was wrong and it was in the real Bible. So I taught myself how to read Latin. Then they told me I was wrong and it was in the real real Bible, so I taught myself Aramaic, Hebrew, and Greek. Then they laughed at me, called me a dumbass nerd, and beat me again, before going back to their favorite past time of getting shitfaced," I informed him flatly.
"So, yeah, I read Greek, as well as some other languages, trying to figure out why we lose a quarter of the student body every year, only to have them all replaced at the start of the next one was kind of a motivating factor. Buffy's unusual because we normally don't get transfers, whatever mechanism is in place restocking the pond every summer, which is when things calm down," I stated, lying out my ass, but with enough truth mixed in and referencing belligerent enough actors that it'd hold up.
Tapping on the relevant passage, I turned the book towards him. "There it is, Hellmouth Taint, or whatever the technical term is. I just call it 'Sunnydale Syndrome'."
The Watcher looked over the text, nodding to himself, before looking up and asking, "But, even with this, why have we not heard?"
I sighed, asking him slowly, "When did you get here?"
"A week ago," he replied, confused.
"And when did you realize how bad it was?"
"A week… ah," Giles noted. "The effect is that strong? To reach that far?"
"Apparently," I shot back. "Though it's less far reaching and more like a bubble, if I had to guess."
Unfortunately, Buffy, probably cottoning on to the Antlion Trap Nature of the place she'd found herself in, stepped back, informing us, "See, you two boys can go talk about ancient callings, or, like, whatever, without me. I've got important things to do. Like class. And shoes. And stuff. Bye!" And, turning on her heel, she strode out of the library.
Sighing, I looked to Giles. "That's the Slayer?"
The British man winced, idly taking off his glasses and quickly cleaning them as he informed me, "It is a position more than a personality archetype, young man. They are varied, but young Ms. Summers seems particularly... flippant. However, it is of utmost importance that she take this danger seriously, doubly so if things are as dire as you say!"
And then he was off, through the doors as well, leaving me alone with the Hellmouth.
Rolling my eyes, I stowed the Grimoire, then, reaching over the desk with long tendrils, grabbed the VAMPYR book as well. Making a blade out of my Shroud, I idly flipped it as I complained to the semi-sentient portal to the Abyss, "But I didn't even get to talk about my powers! Ugh. Teenagers. And the British, apparently."
Willow Rosenberg found it hard to contain her excitement.
Xander was coming over!
Well, he'd come over before, but, but this was different!
Today he'd, he'd been paying attention to her!
Well, he'd paid attention before, but not, like, attention attention. He'd listened to her, but never listened listened, and he'd looked at her, but, in class, it was like she was the only one in the world he cared about, which, wowsers!
And it seemed to all start with him hitting his head.
She'd heard that head trauma could change a person's personality, but she'd thought that, was, like, just stories and stuff, not real!
Wait, did that make Xander not Xander?
…
No, he was still Xander, because, if he wasn't Xander, then there's no way he'd bother with her after all.
And now she was sad.
But she couldn't be sad, because Xander was coming over!
Checking the clock, it read four, and she wondered if he was running late, or if he'd forgotten, or he wasn't really Xander and had blown her off, and-
Ding-Dong went the doorbell.
Rushing to her door, she opened it, to see Xander standing there, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, blue with red leafed ivy, though the leaves kinda looked like hands, with the tips of the maple-leaves black, like finger nails, which was a new shirt for him, and kinda cool, if a little ominous!
"Xander! You're here!" she told him. "Oh, right, of course you know you're here, you're here, um, do you wanna come in?"
"No, I walked over just to stand here," Xander smiled, stepping inside, carrying his backpack, which looked filled with books!
He was serious!
Heading over to the dining room, he gently put his bag down, instead of just throwing it around like he normally did, and looked over to her, asking, "So, drinks? Snackage?"
"Oh, uh, they're in the kitchen, with the rest of the food," she replied, kicking herself for not getting it before, but they normally met at the Bronze, where you could just get those things delivered.
"Same places?" he questioned, and she nodded, so he walked that way, and, oh god, even his walk was sexy now, all confident and stuff, and she had it bad didn't she?
She stood there, not sure what to do, hearing… ice?
Jogging over to the doorway, she'd expected him to just get sodas, but he'd gotten glasses, and a bowl for the chips, and, what?
"Uh, you didn't need to…" Willow told him, confused.
"It's another, what, thirty seconds of work?" he questioned, not turning around, pouring the drinks, and smoothly turning around, balancing the bowl on top of them, as she rushed over and took it before he dropped it, carrying it over and putting it down on the table, as Xander sat.
Looking at him, he opened his bag, and took out Theories of Trigonometry, which meant he actually got it!
What?
Yay!
What?
"Oh, uh, okay, so, um, I read ahead in the book, and Ms. Corrigan does skip a bit," Willow remarked, "which I don't really get as you kinda need the stuff we skip to understand what comes after the skip, but, well, she is the teacher, so she'd know, I guess, but, like, you don't normally get it, so when I explain it to you I try and include that stuff too, which helps, but, maybe I'm not as smart as I think I am, because I feel like I need it, but the others don't-"
"No, she's a terrible teacher," Xander stated. "If I had to guess, she knows the parts she skips, so she doesn't think they're important."
The redhead frowned, trying to make that make sense.
It didn't.
"But, we don't know it," she said slowly, Xander nodding. "But it's her job to teach us." Again, he nodded. "But it is important!"
The muscular boy shrugged, "Like I said, you're a better teacher than she is. That said, there is something else I wanted to talk to you about, Wills," he said seriously, staring at her, like he was looking into her soul.
Oh god, is this where he says he likes me! Like, likes me likes me? What if he wants to date? We used to, but that was when we were five and we broke up because he stole my Barbie. Oh, oh god, he's waiting for me to respond. What do I say?
"Uh… yeah?" she asked.
God that was so stupid. What am was I thinking? I'm so stupid! Now he totally won't ask me out now!
"So, there's no really delicate way to say this, but magic's real," Xander stated.
… what.
"… what."
He smiled, "Yeah, that's kind of what I thought you'd say. But are you telling me you've never noticed anything strange or unusual?"
She thought about it, but nothing came to mind. "No?"
"Not the fact that we've had four dead people on campus this month?" he prodded.
Willow frowned, "What's weird about that? People die all the time. It'd make sense for some of them to do it at school. Well, not at school school, but at the school. Maybe that's why my parents didn't want me to join any clubs?"
"That's not…" Xander started to reply, then frowned. "Hey, Wills, quick question. When's the last time your parents were here and stayed the night?"
That was, actually, a good question. "Uh, two weeks ag- no, they showed up in the morning, and then left at six. Um, last mon-no, they did that then too. And the time before that. And the time before that… Oh! They stayed over for a week in, uh, July!"
Her best friend stared at her. "Willow, it's December twenty-second." Then he paused, and reeled back, like a dog that smelled something foul. "Wait, it's December twenty-second!? Why the hell are we still in school?"
That was an odd question. "Why wouldn't we be?"
"Because we should be on Christmas Break," Xander insisted.
"No, silly, Christmas is Sunday, so we get next week off!" she smiled, which dimmed a little. "Did, did you not get me a gift yet? Because that's okay if you didn't, I'm Jewish after all, and I-"
"I got you a gift, Wills," he smiled, which did all sorts of things to her.
Good things! Bad things! Bad things that were good? Good things that were Bad! But, like, Good-Bad!
"That said, is there anything in particular that you do want?" he inquired, staring into her eyes, the way he'd started doing, focused exclusively on her, and her alone.
You? some dirty part of her mind suggested.
"I-I'm sure that whatever you got is great!" she stuttered, trying not to blush. "Oh! Magic!"
Xander looked to the side, then nodded. "I'll see if I can scrounge up an introductory exercises by then, now that I know it's real. There's something with a floating pencil, I think?"
Okay, not what I meant, but, yesplease?
However… "Now that you know it's real?"
Her dark-haired friend nodded. "Yeah, I'd been poking around, I didn't want to say anything, in case I was completely wrong, but Buffy? She's supernatural."
"I knew no one that pretty could be natural!" Willow replied without meaning to, then realized what she'd said, and clapped her hands over her mouth.
Xander just laughed, "No, as far as I can tell, those looks are natural. Well, other than a bit of makeup. Though, agreed, she is good looking. Glad to see we have the same taste in women."
"What? No! I like boys! I'm not, um, like that!" Willow objected, thinking, Am I?
But her friend waved away her concern. "Some people like girls, some people like boys, some people like both. It is what it is."
The very confused redhead stared at the man, asking carefully, "Do you like both? Is that legal?"
"Nah, I'm about as straight as they come," he deferred, "But I don't judge. And, yeah, it is."
Well that was… a thing.
A thing that she didn't want to deal with right now.
What were they talking about again.
Oh right!
"So, Buffy is magic," Willow asked, wanting to change the subject.
"Yep," Xander said, popping the P. "She's the Vampire Slayer, which means she's super strong, super tough, and super good at fighting, which she needs to be to fight Vampires."
"Wait, Vampires are real?" she demanded, and, from his bag, her friend pulled out a huge tome, that said vampire, but misspelled it, like all the really old books did, since they were made before spelling was a thing. "I think I need to sit down."
Xander smiled reassuringly, reaching over to pat her on the shoulder, his hand warm, "You are sitting, Wills."
"Oh, good for me," she nodded, hesitantly reaching over towards the book, which her friend put down in front of her, and flipped open, and, yeah, it was hand-written, with half the words misspelled.
"It's late Middle English, so read it aloud, and your brain will self-correct," Xander advised, which, as she tried it out for a few lines, really did help, but…
"You read Middle English?" she questioned, frowning, as that didn't seem like a very Xander thing to do, but, if that was true, was Xander being Not-Xander just the Real Xander being Xander and the Xander she'd known was just the Not-Xander that Xander pretended to be?
He shrugged, "Well, you said I couldn't hang out with you here when we were eight, and Jesse's mom needs him to look after his little sisters, so what was a growing boy to do when left to his own devices?"
Willow knew what boys normally did, but apparently no one told Xander, and she sure as heck wasn't gonna be the one to do it! "So, uh, what did you do?"
"Research," he shrugged. "Nothing Sciency, since that was your jam, and I didn't want to jam up your jam-"
"No! Jam away!" she interrupted, aghast at the thought that her friend was doing badly in school on purpose just to not offend her, which was, like, really sweet but really messed up, which was such a Xander thing to do that she wasn't sure why she was worried. "So, um, you hit your head, and thought 'Today's the day to tell Willow about magic'?"
"No, that was meeting Buffster, and Giles, the Librarian, who's a wizard," her friend shrugged, which… what?
"Like Gandalf?" the girl questioned, feeling like she was six, and waiting for the tooth fairy to come.
But Xander shook his head, "No, he's not a Maia, more, uh, Discworld. Only not funny."
"Discworld?" She questioned, confused.
"Regular person, can cast spells, normally doesn't because magic is tricky," her friend explained. "And Magic is tricky, and dangerous, and not user friendly at all, and I might've done a ritual that bound something to my soul and let me shrug off some of the bad mojo that's just kind of floating around this town, but not like all of it."
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Willow inquired, sure she'd heard wrong.
Xander nodded, "Yeah, um, there's kind of something in this town that's pumping out a ton of tainted magic that just kind of sticks to everything, which, good news, growing up here means that we're both pretty strong Mages, though we will have to be a lot more careful with our spellwork, as we'll naturally reach for darker workings, not having the metaphysical gag-reflexes that keeps most practitioners on the straight and narrow. Maybe. Probably. I'm honestly not sure how much of what I've read is true and how much is completely made up, and I never thought to check until we got all of the magical books in the library and I decided 'Hey, sure, let's try this ritual I barely understand', probably because of that same tainted magic thing, which then ate the book it came with, and, like, most of my closet."
"I, uh, what?" the redhead questioned, still coming to terms with what she was hearing. "I meant, well, yes, that, kind of, ritual?"
"Wills, what kind of shirt am I wearing?" he asked, instead of answering her.
He was obviously waiting for an answer, so she went with it, replying, "Uh, a Hawaiian one? Is it new?"
And then his shirt changed, shifting and rippling, turning into a blue T-shirt that read in crimson lettering 'Unwilling A-Hole', and he looked down at it, after it finished, and told her, "Looks like a regular T-shirt to me."
Then it changed again, turning into a hooded sweatshirt, that reached up and covered the top of his head, again, dark blue, this time with a red sun on one shoulder, rays extending downwards, like the old Japanese flag did, across his body. "Are you sure it's a Hawaiian shirt, Wills?"
"I, you, you've got a hoodie on now!" she exclaimed pointing to the top of his head, but, as he reached a hand up, the hood pulled back, so he just touched the top of his head, then, when he reached to the side, it shifted one way, then another, like it was avoiding his hand, going back over his head when he stopped reaching for it.
"Are you sure?" he questioned with a grin, as the entire thing turned back into a Hawaiian shirt, only this one showed a red ocean with black sandy beaches, and palm trees that looked oddly spikey. Looking down, he made a "Hmmm," sound, then looked up at her. "Huh, guess it is a Hawaiian shirt."
"You have a magic shirt?" the girl questioned, eyes wide.
He shook his head, shirt changing again to a polo shirt, as a thin rope came out of his shoulder, reached over, the end unravelling to grab a chip, which it threw into his mouth. "I've got a magic outfit, though, there's a little more to it than that. It's bound to me, but the binding is… sticky," he said, clearly trying to figure out a way to explain it. "It can bind others to me too. The stronger they are, like, metaphysically, the longer it takes, but the more of them that it touches, the faster it goes. You'd be bound faster than Buffy, because she's the Slayer, and Giles would be somewhere in the middle, because Slayer trumps minor Wizard."
Bound?
To Xander?
That's hot.
Why is that hot!?
"Um, Bound how?" she questioned carefully.
Her friend shrugged, "Not sure, exactly. You'll get your own magical outfit, though it'll technically be the same outfit reaching through the binding between us, but, knowing this, I need you to confirm that, if you do end up Bound, however that happens, you are doing so willingly. Okay?"
"O-Okay?" she offered, unsure, and he winced, starting to reply, so she tried again. "Okay. I understand."
Xander sighed. "Okay, good. Because if you're bound unwillingly, it'd eat you."
"I'm sorry, what?" Willow demanded.
"Oh, casual contact wouldn't do it," he reassured her, which, didn't really help. "And it doesn't need to, but it'll get a boost if it does."
The redhead tried to process that, "So, so you can't touch anyone without maybe, uh, binding them?"
"No, it's coming in contact with the Shroud that's the issue, and, if I really need to, I can store it," he reassured her, his shirt, shifting and flowing, into a ring on his finger, but there was a lot more stuff flowing than should come from his shirt alone, which meant…
"Xander?" she questioned carefully. "When you said it ate your closet. Were you just wearing your, uh, Shroud right now?"
From the regretful look on his face, she was correct, and he nodded. "Yeah I was, Wills."
"So, you're naked right now," she checked, trying not to blush again, and failing, eyes dropping down, but the table was in the way.
Stupid Table.
The ring exploded outwards, quickly re-clothing him. "Nope, not right now," he replied, a little tightly. "So, uh, yeah, I'm gonna want you to work on reading this, because I haven't gotten through it yet, and I know I can trust you."
"Yeah, if you asked Jesse to…" she paused, then gasped. "Jesse! He doesn't know!"
Xander just nodded, like he wasn't concerned, which was worrying. "He's who I'm going to see next, but I couldn't exactly tell you this in class."
"But, wait, if there's vampires out there isn't that dangerous?" Willow questioned, then realized, the feeling heavy in her gut, "Wait, I was going to go out tonight, until you suggested we meet, even though, really, my parents said I should've have boys over, but you asked-"
"As long as it's a school night, or not the middle of summer, they're not going to be here," Xander noted, which sounded really bad, but, was he wrong? "Though, until we've got you magically strong enough to set Vampires on fire with your mind, it'd probably be best if I walk you home. And also Jesse."
That, that was good, and it would be nice to have him walk her home, like they were dating, not that they were, but- "Wait, what about you?"
Xander clothing shifted, covering him head to toe in black and silver armor, his eyes barely visible from behind the helmet, and, lifting a hand, a longsword grew, which he casually rested on his shoulder, like a Dark Knight, who'd protect her, but, like, respect her as a person, and oh god he's hot!
"I think I'll manage," he practically purred, which didn't help!
"I, I think you should go. Right now. To make sure Jesse's okay!" Willow urged, and, in a moment, the armor retreated, leaving Xander, looking all sexy and caring and sexy and concerned and sexy.
"You sure you're going to be okay? I can probably spend a little longer here explaining stuff," he offered.
"N-No!" she stuttered, really really wanting him to, but he needed to go now, before she said something really crazy like 'Kiss me!' or 'I love you!' or 'Bind me you sexy, sexy man!' which was just what, so, no, he needed to go, like now. "Make sure Jesse's okay!"
Smiling, he stood, stepping over to her, leaning over her, and, and-
Warm, strong arms encircled her in a hug, making her feel safe, and secure, and loved.
"I will," he told her the sound rumbling through his chest, into hers, and going straight to her naughty bits. Letting go, and stepping away, she strangled the needy sound before it could escape her throat, and he told her, "Read that, but get some sleep, and show up to school early tomorrow. We're gonna go have a talk with our new hunters of everything that goes bump in the night. And, if anyone comes to the door, don't invite them in. Opening the door and stepping aside is fine if you want them to come in, but anyone that can't cross a threshold uninvited is not someone you want anywhere near you."
"Uh-Understood!" she nodded, as Xander grabbed his drink, slammed it down, turned on his heel, and walked out of her house with purpose. Sexy purpose.
Hearing the door close gently, Willow finally sighed, making a sound like a balloon deflating, resting her face in her hands. "Oh, you've got it bad girl!" she moaned.
Glancing to the book he'd left behind Willow nodded to herself, having a way forward, and it involved reading, which was one of her favorite things!
But first, she needed to change!
Into dry panties!
So, that went well!
Was I lying my ass off? Yes.
Was I hurting anyone? No.
Okay, well, I was going to be hurting vampires, but that wasn't anyone that mattered.
I was kind of surprised it was already dark, but considering the winter solstice was fucking yesterday that made sense. I'd been thrown by the complete and total lack of snow, but this was goddamned SoCal, so of course it was in the seventies!
Hell, I'd been born not that far from here, and hadn't seen snow until I was six, my parents moving to New England because they were trying for more kids, and didn't want them to grow up like I had, which, just, was so nice of them, but after two decades living in post-card land I'd forgotten that midwinter didn't necessarily mean snow on the ground.
Thankfully, I knew the way to the Bronze by my body's heart, having been lucky enough to miss the Vamps that hunted there all my life. Then again, Xander was normally hanging out with Willow, and that girl dressed like the type that'd have a cross hidden on her person at all times. I, meanwhile, likely got by despite Body Talent turning me Captain America levels of fit through the use of a little bit of Fate-Fuckery to ensure my Possession target's survival.