Title: The Road To Hell 2: The Road Back

Author: MPrattky

E-mail: XxMageX at aol dot com

Disclaimer: The Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar, Kuzui, WB and UPN; no copyright infringement is intended, and not one red cent is being earned from this story

Rating: R

Warnings: Some violence and language are present, as well as mention of the events of September 11. Plus there are spoilers present for seasons 1-7 of BtVS and 1-5 of Angel

Main characters: Ensemble

Setting: Takes place initially during season 4 of BtVS/ season 1 of Angel, in an alternate universe established in the story "The Road To Hell", and progresses from there

Pairings: We'll see

Classification: Angel-Buffy Crossover, Action-Adventure, Angst, Alternate Universe

Author's Thanks: First off I want to thank Starway Man for letting me take up the story started in 'The Road To Hell'. I really appreciate it. I am also thankful for his acting as my beta reader for this series. In fact with all the input he has made to the story, he has been more of a co-author than a beta reader. Thank you very much for all the help.

Author's Comments: Feel free to leave feedback if you want. In fact, I encourage it. Let me know what you think. Got a plot bunny you want to suggest, drop me a line. I have a broad outline of how the story will proceed, but I welcome any ideas for along the way.

Also be forewarned, this fic will deal with events from the real world. Also from time to time, characters in this fic will say things off-color, mean-spirited and non-PC. Just letting you know all ahead of time.

Author's Notes: This fanfic is a sequel and continuation of the story 'The Road To Hell', by Starway Man. You can find it archived at either the XanderZone website (www. grandt XanderZone/ stories/ ?story = TheRoadToHell) or this site (www. fanfiction s/ 1146584/ 1/ The-Road-To-Hell) (you need to remove the spaces, of course). I strongly suggest, for the most enjoyable experience of reading this fic, that you go read that excellent story before reading this one.

Summary: Xander Harris has journeyed the road to Hell. Now he must face his hardest ever challenge – taking the long road back.

Season One

Part One

San Francisco, California. November, 1999

His head was majorly throbbing in pain. Xander Harris moaned softly, as he put his hand to his forehead. He kept his eyes tightly closed, hoping that might deaden the pain a little bit.

No such luck.

"My apologies for any pain you may be feeling, Mr. Harris. The toxin we used to incapacitate you has no serious long-term effects, but it does give you a rather nasty headache right after you wake up. I'm told it's kind of like having a hangover..."

Xander carefully opened his eyes and peered out, hoping to see where he was. The last thing he remembered was being in the bus station restaurant, then having a seizure of some kind; then el mucho pain, before the blackout.

Looking around, the son of two drunks saw that he was in a lounge of some kind. The young man could also tell he was in a high-rise apartment, just from looking out the window. It showed an impressive view of San Francisco's skyline.

The voice belonged to a middle-aged black woman, sitting across from him. Behind her, looking out the window was a middle-aged white man. The woman ignored his presence and continued talking, "The toxin simulates a seizure from epilepsy very convincingly. Unfortunately, it also dehydrates the body in the same way that drinking too much alcohol does. I would suggest you drink some water, that'll make you feel better." She indicated the pitcher of water on the table in front of Xander.

Harris shrugged and reached out for the pitcher, pouring himself a glass of water. He got the glass halfway up to his mouth, when it hit him.

She had definitely called him 'Harris'.

Xander took a drink to hide his discomfort. "I'm sorry, but you're telling me I was brought here against my will? Why is that?"

"Surely, Mr. Harris, you can't expect me to believe that you don't know why you're here? And you probably think that attempted mugging of you last week, was just happenstance..."

"Uh, you must have me mistaken with someone else. I'm not this Harris guy you're talking about!" Xander fought the impulse to ask the woman to not knock him Shirley.

As the captive talked the man walked along through the room, and he reached the point where he was behind Xander. The former Zeppo glanced behind him to check the dude out, and saw a door at the back of the room. Then he turned back to face the woman, his features neutral and expressionless.

The black woman responded, "It's true that the papers in your wallet identify you as one 'Alexander Hall' from Phoenix, Arizona. And I'm glad to see you learned the old trick that a good alias uses the first name of the person in hiding, so the name is responded to when someone calls out to you. You even have a bus ticket and passport in that name, I see..."

"But we all know that you're actually Alexander Lavelle Harris, better known as Xander Harris, formerly from Sunnydale California." Xander jumped a little bit, as the man behind him spoke up.

"I'm telling you that..." Xander started to stammer out in reply, when the man again cut him off.

"Oh, come on kid. Don't play games. You think we're the kind of people to play games with? Hell, you should be thankful it was *us* who caught up with you, and not someone else!"

The woman held up her hand to interrupt her companion. "What my associate means, in his own blunt way, is that we are basically operating with a much more gentle touch in this matter than...other parties who are interested in finding you."

{ Other parties? } Xander didn't like the sound of that. As far as his friends in Sunnydale knew, he was dead. So did the Watchers Council. Only the vampire with a soul called Angel knew he was still alive...

Xander just stayed silent, something he had learned both from dealing with his parents and being held captive as a slave. An old survivor's trick is never to draw attention to yourself, when living in fear of your life...

The woman continued, "Mr. Harris, please believe me when I say we don't mean you any harm. Our main objective is to ensure that those who seek to do our country harm do not exploit your situation. And if we can prevent certain hypothetical events from occurring? That's strictly a bonus to us."

Xander frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about, lady. I'm just a carpenter heading to Canada, to start a new job..."

The man walked in front of Xander, and dropped a folder on the table in front of him. "You may have changed your name, kid, but you haven't changed your fingerprints. Strictly speaking, that's real sloppy! Remember when your parents had you fingerprinted, during one of those kid safety programs back in the 1980s? We have the records. They match the ones of your hands, 100%. The positive ID came in just a few hours ago. Want me to prove it, here and now?"

Xander inwardly groaned, as he realized what the man was talking about. It hadn't been *his* parents, of course; it had been Willow's parents who had taken him, Willow and Jesse to get fingerprinted back in '87 at a school fair. Damn it, he had forgotten all about that.

The man continued, "We even triple-checked to be sure, while you were sleeping. There's no doubt, kid. Alexander Harris didn't die at the Sunnydale High School gas explosion last May. He's sitting here in front of me, breathing and everything."

Xander thought for a long pause. He considered making a break for it right then and there. He could probably get to the door, and from there somehow to the outside...

"Forget it, kid. You wouldn't get past me; I've been doing this sorta thing long enough I can take you - no matter if you do got some soldier memories, or the hyena possession thing going. Plus, even if by some miracle you got outta this room, you think you can deal with my men waiting out there in the corridor? All of them are professionals, and have orders not to let you leave here..." the man said, correctly guessing what Xander was thinking.

The woman spoke up, glaring at her colleague, "No one here wants you hurt, let me just reiterate that. But the point is, even if you got away from us, all you would accomplish is make a target of yourself for the more nasty people out there. By the way - you were right to suspect that the Watchers Council had sent a retrieval team for you, back in May. And you don't even want to know what the others would do to you..."

"Who are you guys?" Xander managed to croak out, as obviously these people knew too much about him to continue to try bluffing.

The man answered him, "I'm sure you paid attention to some things in high school, kid. You remember that stuff with Pearl Harbor? That kind of thing, getting caught with its pants down - it can cripple a government for years afterwards. It makes a man like me want to make damn *sure* that sorta crap never happens again..."

The woman continued, "Various government agencies wanted to make certain that, after World War 2 was over, the United States wouldn't get blindsided that way ever again. Something of a new group was organized to make sure that World War 3 didn't start the same way for our country. The best of the CIA, FBI, NSA, U.S. military intelligence, Special Forces and the like were forwarded to this group."

Xander was about to interrupt, but she kept going. "Their mandate was to make sure the Russians didn't get the jump on us. But my point is, the group stayed hidden. For years, too, making sure that the Soviets never got in a position to kick off World War 3 in a big way. They stopped the Russians from smuggling A-bombs into the country on more than one occasion. But over time, it became obvious that there were other threats. Other countries to worry about."

The man took up the monologue then. "Then in the late Sixties, something came up that really scared the shit outta the bigwigs in the government. The ragheads..."

The woman stole a glare at the man, at the use of that term. He continued, not paying her the slightest bit of attention. "Their blowing up planes, and the like. They may have concentrated mostly on El Al, but we knew it was only a matter of time before it was our turn. So, we changed targets. There were enough groups out there watching the Russkies, that we felt secure in going after the terrorists instead. And just for the record? We're damn good at what we do."

The woman took a drink of water herself, and took over after the man shut up, "We're also aware of other, more...unconventional threats. Vampires, demons, all the things that go bump in the night and stranger things. Not our department, of course," she shrugged. "But sometimes, we dealt with them. Other times, we just left them to those whose sole purpose it was to fight them."

"Like that Slayer of yours, and the Watchers Council," the man said succinctly.

"You were behind the Initiative," Xander said unthinkingly, with growing horror.

"Hell no, kid. Those grunts were too stupid to know how to stake a bloodsucker, even after watching 'Dracula' as a training video, and the lab coats - especially the evil bitch Monster of Death - were too unbalanced for our liking. Besides, we exist in *complete* secrecy. They were probably headed for a spectacular coming-out party. We opposed it every step of the way..."

The woman nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately, we were losing the bureaucratic fight over that. Well, but politics is an ugly business. It looked like the Initiative would come into being; then something happened. Or more accurately, *you* happened."

The man threw a videotape down onto the table, in front of Xander. "Were you to watch that tape, you would see Professor Maggie Walsh's last moments on this mortal coil. And more importantly, we would see you make a *very* special guest appearance in her life."

Xander stared at the man, knowing what would come next. The secret agent nodded, "We had her under surveillance, yeah. We had just been ordered to withdraw it by the higher-ups, when you took her out of the picture." He smiled nastily, "And at first, everyone thought you had done it for us. Took quite a bit of doing to convince the big shots otherwise, let me tell you..."

The woman said earnestly, "So, we started digging into you. In certain circles, you've become quite a celebrity during the last year or so."

"Why's that?" Xander felt the need to say something, as opposed to just sitting there.

The lady shrugged. "Mr. Harris - despite its pretensions, the Watchers Council is not as powerful or security-minded as it believes itself to be. Over the years several groups have infiltrated the Council for their own reasons, ourselves among them."

Her colleague clarified, "For a while there, kid, the writings of that idiot wimp Wyndham-Pryce? They were probably one of the most closely read documents on the planet. Because of you. And we're talking at the highest levels of government. People who ignore the President if they have to."

The woman added, "The details you gave him were sparse, granted, but your very existence even - that was enough to cause anxiety in many centers of power, all around the globe. The reports we got were censored from within the Council, before we read them. But still, they were more than enough to panic us all."

"Yeah, especially that comment about a witch trying to destroy the planet. *That* really got everyone's attention."

{ Oh shit, they know about Willow going all crazy in the near future. } Xander suddenly felt afraid for the Scoobies; after all, what would these people do with that knowledge?

The woman continued on, "We really started looking at you, then. Someone who had detailed prescient knowledge, of the next four years? Let's be honest; it was far too juicy, for everyone who was anyone to possibly leave alone. Combine that with what you did back in April, and we *really* got interested in you! We all asked ourselves - why would someone, knowing what would happen over the next four years, kill Maggie Walsh? We didn't know the exact answer, but could hazard a guess..."

She leaned over poured herself a glass of water from the table and took another drink from it, as the man started talking again. The two of them were doing a pretty good job of tag-teaming Xander...

"'Course, we then found the other bodies. Warren Mears, Ben Maxwell. You...dealt with them. Decently professional job by you and the vampire, granted, but you don't get to where I am in life without knowing what's what. Smart money's saying you headed off some major events, by removing them from the playing field. 'Course, you know what I'm about to ask now, don't you?"

Xander looked up, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. { Oh no... }

The man said firmly, "Worst case scenario. Do we need to make similar arrangements, to remove a witch from the world?"

"No! Don't you dare!" Xander yelled.

The man raised an eyebrow at Xander's outburst. "Mr. Harris, our job is to deal with threats to the security of the United States. The end of the world would qualify."

The woman looked sympathetically at Xander. "We suspected that you'd already taken all the necessary steps before leaving your hometown, but the stakes are so high...you must understand - we *have* to be sure." She had a questioning look on her face.

Xander fought an internal battle with himself. He really wanted to try and convince them they were wrong. That he was just a poor carpenter, who was on his way to Canada to make a buck.

But he knew they wouldn't believe it. More importantly, they were worried over Willow. He had no doubts about how they knew who the witch was, that was going to try and destroy the world. How hard would it be to figure out what witches he'd hung out with?

Xander looked at the duo. The man had gone back to looking out at the skyline. The woman regarded him with a hopeful look. That look told him that they didn't *want* to do it. They were hoping he had resolved the situation already, but if they hadn't they were ready to step in and deal.

The so-called teenager knew that they had to be satisfied. But he also knew if he told them what they wanted to hear; he had no more hope of talking himself out of their company.

Was he willing to do that to Willow, and the others? After all, they had left him to die outside the Bronze that night, for lying to Buffy about that mess with Acathla. If not for Angel, he would literally have become vamp chowder.

But Xander then remembered what Angel had told him afterwards; 'secrets have a way of coming out.'

Sometimes, hiding stuff just led to worse problems further down the line.

So Harris said curtly, "It's taken care of. Warren Mears, he was the trigger for what you people are afraid of. With him gone, the threat potential and the reason for trying to end the world are also gone. Fact is, she only got that power to go after him."

The man turned around from the window, and looked at Xander, nodding with a half-smile on his face. The woman had a full smile on her face. "I am *very* relieved to hear that. Just because we'll do what is necessary, doesn't mean we enjoy it."

"Still, we have to ask if there's anything else out there we need to know about, ya know?" The man came over and sat down in a chair next to Xander.

Xander just looked at him impassively, also knowing where this was heading. { Screw you, asshole. }

The man just said, "Kid, I promise you, we're not looking for winning lottery numbers or hot stock market tips! We're beyond that garbage. We're looking to make sure that terrorists don't drop a nuke on New York City, or spread some killer virus all over the U.S.! India and Pakistan ain't gonna start lobbing nukes at each other on my watch, and neither is there gonna be a worldwide famine because some loopy lab coat goofs on his laboratory safety protocols..."

Xander tensed a little bit; just a little. He didn't know if they had caught it, at the mention of New York City and terrorists. But then, those 4 1/2 years in a hell dimension because of the vampires Spike and Drusilla had taught him how to hide his thoughts and feelings well, when he needed to.

The man leaned back. "Of course, I also want to know if the Braves win the next World Series. That's the most important thing! We can talk about the end of the world stuff after that."

The woman stabbed the man with a slight look of exasperation. "What say we give Mr. Harris some time to think it all over? As we do have some business to attend to, that is unrelated to all this..."

She turned to Xander. "You must be starving. After all, you were unconscious for almost a whole day! I'll arrange for some dinner to be brought in to you. I'm told the kitchen is quite good here. Some steak, perhaps?"

Later, the man and woman were in another room, looking at a monitor that showed Xander eating in the lounge. The duo was amazed at his appetite, if nothing else.

"You noticed how he tensed up at the mention of New York and terrorists?" the man suddenly asked.

"I wondered if you had caught that."

"Almost didn't, he's damn good at hiding things. Probably slipped up, only 'cause we hit him hard and fast with too much, too soon, while he was still disoriented. But that's always just a one-time event; no way we can ever count on that again."

"I agree."

The man looked speculative. "Just between us, I think against anyone else? His tensing up would've gone unnoticed. And the only reason he even confirmed his real ID was 'cause he was worried over Ms. Rosenberg, or Ms. Madison. For the record, my money's still on the Rosenberg girl being the über-witch..."

The woman nodded. "Most probably true, since Ms. Madison is still missing. Still, thankfully that's no longer an issue. Oh, by the way - what's the latest with that 'mugging'?" The quotation marks could be heard around the woman's remarks.

"Yeah, still looking into that. We identified at least two of the perps as stringers working for the French SDECE..." The man then looked angry, "Jesus, but this could wind up being just like the mess back in the early 1940s, over that stupid race with the atomic bomb! Intelligence agencies tripping over themselves. Rogue agents trying to sell secrets to the highest bidder."

"Not to mention the Watchers Council."

The man sighed. "I know, I *really* wish they weren't in the mix. Normally, I got no problem trusting the Brits; but the Watchers are so deep in bed with the cousins these days, we gotta be real careful what we tell 'em."

"And that California law firm?"

He shrugged again. "Having trouble getting a fix on them. Normally, they're not a player in our particular game. They're more into the weird stuff."

"Which, unfortunately, is a category Mr. Harris falls directly under."

"Too true..."

Two hours later

Xander leaned back on the couch, watching the television in the apartment. He had finished up the meal they had brought him, about a, hour or so before. Now, the young man was just waiting for the man and woman to return.

Harris thought about trying to get some sleep, but decided against it. Sleeping when the others, as he had taken to calling his captors, were hanging around somewhere nearby didn't seem like a good idea. So he just sat there, and watched the TV screen.

And thought about his situation.

His captors obviously knew what they were doing. When they had come in to clear away the dishes from his meal, it had taken three people to do it. Two to actually gather up everything, while the third watched him. They had made a point of accounting for every single piece of silverware, too. They were on guard for Xander to try something, anything...

The former Soldier Guy sighed. Even if he managed to get away from them, their statements to him had made it clear that the only result would be that he would become a target for everyone else out there. The Watchers Council for sure, and some nebulous others also.

Xander wondered idly who said others were. Several ideas ran through his head. The image of a leather-coated Gestapo agent from an old World War 2 movie figured most prominently in his thoughts, even if he felt ridiculous to contemplate it.

Still, he knew in his gut that the others might not even be as nice as the Gestapo had been. The former class clown knew enough about the world now to understand that some groups didn't play by the clean rules, as the man in the street understood them. Xander seriously wondered who would be harsher; the demons who had kept him prisoner for nearly five years; or the men in black who were looking for him...

The 23-year-old man then shuddered, when he realized that the demons were constrained somewhat by not wanting to hurt someone so much that they couldn't work. The people looking for him now wouldn't have that restraint. They would just want him to talk. Anything else wouldn't concern them.

He remembered that old TV show about the Fugitive, looking for the one-armed man to clear his name. But Xander didn't have a one-armed man out there, to eventually stop the suits from chasing him. { Although I wound up being a one-eyed man in the future. I wonder if that counts? }

Maybe if he escaped and disappeared, and somehow made it to 2003 alone in the Canadian mountains, when his knowledge would be useless...

Of course, that was no guarantee that some Initiative wannabe wouldn't eventually snatch him up anyway to see if his brain ticked differently, due to all the tinkering done up there by Willow.

The television flickered as the program he was watching ended, and the early news came on. But he ignored it, and thought some more. If these people knew about Willow, did the other people looking for him know too? Would they go after her? What should he do?

Xander found himself arguing the point with himself. The memories from the first version of history rebelled at the thought of not doing something to help her. After all, it was Willow. The yin to his yang. The yellow crayon girl, who along with his then-best friend Jesse had kept him sane throughout an...ugly childhood. He had to do *something* to protect her...

But the memories from the second version of reality whispered very differently. Willow had basically left him for dead, so as to curry favor with Buffy. She had thrown all the tattered fragments of their friendship away that night on that sidewalk. Then she'd made it worse by sending him to that hell dimension, however hypnotized she'd been by that damn nutcase Dru...

Then the redhead had cursed him with all these memories in his head. These never-to-be-sufficiently-damned potentially aneurysm-causing memories, which made him a target. Made him walk around with a huge neon light above his head, blinking out the words 'FUTURE BOY'. What did he really owe her? What did he owe any of them?

God help him, but the second voice whispered fervently to let them all be thrown to the wolves. They'd willingly bought their own ticket into this chamber of horrors, and paid a full fare. So let them reap the consequences of their actions, let them learn what it was like to live in fear...

Common sense told him to run for it, at the first opportunity. What was the worst that could happen? He could get himself killed? Sometimes, that seemed like an act of mercy. He could vanish into the night, avoid everyone...

Xander thought for a second. And the ghost of the Soldier Guy he had once been said firmly in his brain, { Unacceptable. No win scenario. Another alternative required. }

If he ran, someone somewhere would catch him at some point. Evaluating the possibilities, Xander suspected that the treatment he had received here so far would be the best he could hope for in his life.

And besides, he was still Xander Harris, even if he wasn't a PFC with that Vietnam-era serial number anymore. He knew what was coming...

The ridiculous Y2K hysteria. September 11. The Bali bombing of 2002. The second war against Saddam Hussein, during 2003. And of course, the First Evil...

Now obviously something, and his money was on the First, had changed history in a big way. Otherwise, he would be banging his girlfriend Anya in his Sunnydale basement apartment right about now, instead of being someone's 'guest' here in San Francisco.

Despite his time-delayed letter, Xander wasn't sure of the chances of the Scoobies and the potential Slayers stopping the First Evil now that history had been played with. Was he really going to risk that out of spite? { Am I going to do the same thing I condemned Buffy, Willow and Cordelia for? }

At that moment, the door to the lounge opened up and the woman walked back in. "Where's the other guy?" Xander asked her.

"He's finishing up with our other guests."

Xander chuckled to himself. "You let him talk to other people without you, lady? He's got quite a bark."

The woman walked over and sat down on the chair, next to the couch where Xander was sitting. She also turned the TV off as she walked by it. "His bark's worse than his bite, to be absolutely honest. It's when he's not barking that you really have to watch out for him. Besides, he speaks fluent Japanese."

"Japanese?"

"Yes, our counterparts from the Land of the Rising Sun paid us a visit. They had some things they wanted to talk about."

"Such as." Xander didn't expect an answer, and was surprised when he got one.

"Two things; first, North Korea. All those nukes nestled right next door to their home unnerves them more than a little bit. Secondly, they've heard rumors about you. They were...curious."

"Interesting. Do they-?"

"Know that you're here?" The woman shook her head "No, even though we're allies with them, we're not ready to share that knowledge with them yet. They'll be told what they need to know, when they need to know it."

Xander remembered back to his earlier conversation with the woman. "Who else?" She looked at him questioningly. "Who else knows about me, and might be looking for me?"

She shrugged. "Quite a few people, actually. The Watchers Council, obviously. Us, the CIA, NSA, MI-6, the French, Russians, Israelis, Chinese, Poles, Germans, the Vatican, the Indians, Aussies, Wolfram & Hart-"

Xander got a strange look on his face. "Who?"

"A...special law firm in Los Angeles, who handles legal matters for demons and the like. Your old vampire acquaintance and his friends Doyle and Cordelia Chase have already made themselves their sworn enemy, by the way..."

"Doyle? You mean that half-breed demon I met who sent me to Sunnydale on a mission for the Powers That Be, earlier this year? Deadboy's working with him, to fight the good fight?"

"Yes, quite so." She mentally noted down the reference to the Powers That Be for future investigation.

Xander contemplated that for a moment, as she went on, "There also seem to be several demon factions and cults that know about you. And for some odd reason, the Mormon Church." She shrugged at Xander's look of incomprehension. "I know, it makes no sense at all; but somehow, they know."

"So many," Xander observed quietly.

"It started out small. A few groups learned about you from the Council, just as we did. But these groups had moles or people willing to sell the information for the right price, and it all just spiraled out of control from there..."

"Then I'm just surprised my face hasn't shown up on the National Enquirer, or Sixty Minutes or something."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I doubt knowledge of your existence will spread now much beyond those who already know. There are only a certain number of people who can get access to this kind of secret, and I'd say we've more-or-less reached that number already." She indicated where the plates had been on the table. "You get enough to eat?"

Xander regarded her impassively. "Yeah, I'm not going to start up with that epilepsy thing again, am I?"

"No, nothing of the sort. You're already here, and we want to talk."

"Probably pointless to ask, but why didn't you just come up and talk to me instead of shanghaiing me like that?"

"Now, please! You know as well as I do, that you would've bolted at the first hint that we knew who you were. Why go through all the trouble of finding you, and not be able to talk to you for more than a minute? This conversation needed to be conducted in a controlled setting."

"Says you. How did you find me, anyway?" Xander had given up all pretense of hiding who he really was now.

"There are only so many people in Los Angeles, who can prepare a new identity for someone. We know all of them, and can be...persuasive when the need arises. Once that was done, it was a simple matter to just throw out a net for you."

"You knew I went to LA?"

"It's where the vampire went. We suspected you would have some connection to him."

Xander nodded. It was too bad he hadn't been able to stay there; but Cordelia had been on her way to Los Angeles, and destined to meet and then go to work for Angel. He remembered that much, and since she thought he was dead...

The thing was even though Xander thought he could be around her without having the goddamn headaches, since he hadn't dealt with his ex since Graduation and there weren't any conflicting memories, he still didn't want her to know about him.

Because if *she* found out, how long would it be before the others found out also? Buffy had gone to LA to visit Angel a couple of times in the future he remembered, and she would probably do so at least once in this upcoming one. { That reminds me, Angel was expecting me to check in with him today using my fake name. He must be getting worried by now... } "So, what now?"

"Well, first off you stay with us." She held up her hand to head off Xander's interruption. "You have to understand the situation. You can't just wander around like a target out there, as all the people looking zero in on you! A single person alone would almost have no chance against all the resources all those groups can bring to bear. So unless you crawled into a cave and stayed there for the next four years, as most likely you were planning to do, they'll find you. And we cannot let that happen."

"That's not your decision to make," Xander crossed her arms and glared at her.

She frowned at him. "We made it ours. If someone is able to use what's in your head to influence events to this country's detriment, the consequences could be...disturbing. Possibly catastrophic. Put yourself in my place; how could you justify risking it?"

Xander sneered, "I shoulda known you'd play that card, eventually. Look, do you want to hear my impressions of all this, so far?" She nodded. "Fine. You all see yourselves as a collection of noble good guys handling a damned useful if dangerous commodity, one that might save the world someday if used properly. But what I see is a bunch of monkeys playing with matchsticks, in a dark room filled with explosives."

"That's not-"

"Shut up and lemme finish! I'm assuming all this is being taped, so consider it also a message for your bosses. You probably know I told Wesley there are at least half a dozen apocalypse scenarios coming up, within the next four years. And you're thinking to yourself, why not make him give us all the details?"

Xander snorted. "Except I won't do that, unless you strap me down and hit me with the chemicals. It's too dangerous - I KNOW. But you'd justify it to yourselves that forewarned is forearmed; you'll save a lot of lives that need not be lost, that sort of thing. But tell me, what if for example one of your soldiers charges into the wrong place at the wrong time, and some kid accidentally gets caught in the crossfire? Someone who - oh, I dunno - was destined to become President and save the world from nuclear war, except that now he's dead?"

The woman was unable to look him in the eye, as that was a very real fear for every scientist within every group that was in the know. "Well, be that as it may, you have to stay somewhere where you'll be safe. And your best bet is with us. I promise that *we* at least won't use the chemicals."

"A prisoner?" Xander kept his arms folded as he still glared at her.

"Think of it as a honored guest," the man said as entered the lounge. "And it's nice to know you at least have a brain, pal. Interesting speech, by the way."

"Thanks. Glad you liked it."

"'Course, it was more than a little hypocritical for you to make it." He folded his arms and looked at Xander.

"Hypocritical?"

"Yeah, kid. It's a big word, meaning the pot calling the kettle black! That kinda talk was pretty rich, coming from the guy who's already has changed history. Three bodies getting colder, before their time. That was your doing, remember? For all you know, one of them may have found a cure for cancer or hooked up the parents of the next generation's greatest rock star. But we won't know now, will we? You put us all in virgin territory, and not the good kind either."

Xander snarled back at the man, "Don't *ever* try to second-guess me or my actions, or speak about things you know next to nothing about! Nothing like a cancer cure was ever coming from those three, and none of them ever lived beyond 2003 anyway..."

The woman looked at the man, interjecting herself in the conversation to calm things down. "Our other guests are taken care of?"

"Bet your ass they are. Within the hour, they'll be winging their way back home. They seemed a little disappointed that I couldn't go out and down a few sakis with 'em..."

He held up his hands, at the new glare the woman sent him. "I know, I know, this is San Francisco and not Tokyo or Okinawa. Bar room brawls lead to the police being called, which leads to unwelcome attention and all that crap." He sat down next to Xander, muttering as he did so, "Things really are so much damn easier overseas..."

The woman continued to Xander, "We'll make you as comfortable as possible, and make sure you're not as much of a target as before. The CIA and NSA, for example, we can make back off quite easily. Some of the others, like the Aussies and the Poles, trust us enough that they'll be satisfied with that. The others, well...we'll be on guard. We've done this type of thing before quite successfully..."

"And I have no choice in the matter?" Xander asked petulantly.

"There are always choices, Harris. How successful those choices are, is another thing entirely. You can choose to make the best out of this situation that you can, or you can just make it that much harder on yourself!" the man snapped at Xander

Xander glared at him. He didn't like the man, even beyond the fact he was one of the people holding him captive. He had more than a trace of Buffy's annoying 'I am the law' attitude..."You can't stop me from trying to escape."

"Actually, we can. There's nothing requiring us to keep you awake, you know. Worst case scenario for you, we just keep you sedated for the next five years; feed you with an I.V. tube, while you really catch up on your Z's."

"Cleburne..." The woman hissed at the man. "Will you turn off the act for a moment?"

The man seemed to think for a second, and shrugged his shoulders. He leaned forward, folding his hands in his lap, his demeanor relaxing as he did.

"Look, kid, we'll do what we have to. Just like you did, when you killed those three people. We would be remiss in the duty we've sworn to uphold, if we did anything less. The threat of you being exploited by hostile powers is just too great to risk," the man, Cleburne, said in a calm voice.

Xander was surprised. The heavy had actually seemed to tone it down a bit.

The woman started talking, "We would want to avoid such a thing; although in the past, circumstances have compelled us to...well, never mind that now..."

Cleburne leaned back with a thoughtful look on his face. "About five years ago, there was this kid in Peru. Got messed up to the point where he could read minds. Couldn't turn it off, either; every time he was near someone, he knew exactly what they were thinking. Almost drove him nuts..."

A sigh. "As you can imagine, that parlor trick was quite sought after. We tried to help him, but to no avail. In the end, all we could do was sedate the little guy so that the voices wouldn't drive him completely insane. He's still at a clinic in Virginia right now, sleeping peacefully with no more secrets in his head."

"Cleburne!" the women hissed in alarm at the man.

He looked at her. "You told me to drop the act, so I did. No point in trying to sugarcoat this crap, it's just an insult to Harris anyway if you try. We're asking him to trust us. The least we can do is trust him right back." He turned towards Xander and held out his hand. "Name's Joshua Cleburne."

Xander was briefly surprised. Then his guard went right back up; he recognized the old good cop, bad cop routine. { Normally, you don't see both the good and bad cop in the same person... }

Cleburne noticed Xander's hesitation. "Kid, I'm not asking you to marry me or anything. As I don't swing that way! I'm just introducing myself." The earlier coarseness of the man crept back into his voice.

Xander reached over and shook his hand. "You already know my name, and I still don't like you."

Cleburne chuckled. "Fine, I'm not in this business to be Mr. Popularity. Just to get the job done."

The woman looked at Cleburne. "You know, every once in a while you do something noble, and it just throws me for a loop..." She leaned across the table, extending her own hand. "Mrs. Esther Marcum."

Cleburne snorted, as Xander shook Marcum's hand. "Well, just don't tell anyone about me being noble. How would it look to bin Laden if he finds out I can be a nice guy at times?"

Xander couldn't help it; he tensed just a little bit at the mention of that name. Cleburne noticed it, of course; after all, he had been looking for such a reaction when he'd mentioned the guy's moniker.

Marcum leaned forward. "Mr. Harris. Do we have an agreement as to you remaining with us willingly?"

Xander stifled a laugh. They really didn't need his agreement. Still, they wanted it. He could try to escape, but what would it get him? A life on the run. No friends, no support base, just waiting for the inevitable knock on the door that would start the torment of people tearing apart his memories, to learn the shape of things to come.

No choice, really.

"Tell me something. Do these 'others'..." he referred to the other agencies who knew about him, "...know about the witch and the situation in Sunnydale?"

"Some do, yeah. The Watchers Council obviously knows everything. Some only know bits and pieces. Only the Watchers and ourselves are really in a position to put names and faces to the information."

"Still, it's possible others could figure out who to target?"

Marcum and Cleburne exchanged a look. "Yes, I imagine someone could put together enough things to mount an operation to do so," the woman said slowly.

Xander's two separate inner voices warred for a few seconds over what was coming next. The scraps remaining from the Hyena possession whispered to him, { Protect the pack. } That, in the end, tipped the former slave into going with his instincts; as they were now the only things which had kept him alive, for 23 years.

He said to the duo, "You want an agreement, then the people in Sunnydale are to be protected but not interfered with. In ANY way, shape or form! This is not negotiable. They're important; and besides that shouldn't be targeted, because of something they don't even know."

Marcum frowned. "That may not be easy as you think. We can't let them in on the secret..." she trailed off as Cleburne caught her eye.

"Yeah, I think maybe I have a solution for that one. Lemke's been wanting to get out of field operations. Says he's too old for it, and wants to settle down with that CPA he's been dating."

"Isn't Lemke younger than you?" Marcum asked, with a barely hidden grin on her features.

Cleburne made a face, but kept right on going. "The CPA is from California, and wants to move back home. I think Sunnydale is a place where she could open up a new office. Lemke could open a bookstore or something as well. Put that knowledge of literature of his to good use. At the same time, he can keep an eye out..."

Cleburne looked at the face Xander was making. "Kid, we can't give them 24/7 protection if that's what you're asking for. Other than dragging them to Langley, Virginia and sticking them into a safehouse, it's just not possible. We all know that, so just accept it. Besides, from everything I've read, they can take care of themselves. Lemke can call in the cavalry for anything that looks like it's gonna get out of hand..."

Xander nodded. "All right, I'll agree to that."

Seeing that Xander was relaxing, Cleburne asked the next question to knock him off-balance. "So kid, how many people did bin Laden kill when he hit New York?"

Xander's head snapped around, as he looked at Cleburne. The military conditioning for a moment failed him; the comment had the desired reaction from the target for a second, till Xander's face returned to its impassive state.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Kid, you tensed up earlier when I mentioned New York being nuked, and also a few seconds ago when I mentioned the raghead's name. Two and two does equal four."

Marcum piped up, softening up Cleburne's harsh edges. "As far as I can tell, Mr. Harris, it seems that the situation is the same here as when you took out Walsh, Mears and Maxwell. We can stop whatever Osama bin Laden is planning, the same way you stopped their plans, with a similar surgical strike - can't we?"

This one was easier for Xander to decide. { What's the difference between those terrorists, and the people I killed? Not much, really. } As he came to a decision, images of the final battle with the First Evil came to mind. That had to be dealt with also.

"I'm gonna need your help, in exchange for my help on your problem."

"Go on," Marcum leaned forward.

"Four years from now, an evil older than either of you can possibly imagine tries to destroy this world. I've not been able to head that off. The only thing that was standing in its way was a small group in Sunnydale, that was mostly made up of teenage girls. And, funny thing; I've noticed some changes in the world events leading up to that, beyond what I've done personally. Bottom line; someone else is messing with history, as you know it."

At that, both Marcum and Cleburne stirred with looks of concern on their faces. "Holy shit," the male secret agent said succinctly. Even he hadn't been expecting this.

"In my original memories, we barely stopped it. And even then, it was at great personal cost..." Xander paused as he remembered Anya. His soul mate, and the woman he had also hurt so much.

Of all the people he had left behind, she was the only one that was truly forever lost; as Anyanka was probably tearing out some guy's liver right now, her humanity abandoned and forgotten over 1100 years ago.

Xander finished up, "So with the Big Bad playing with history like that, the good guys might not win this time around."

"You want us to fight it also?" Cleburne asked.

"Yes."

Cleburne and Marcum exchanged a glance. Xander was reminded for a second of the glances that he and Willow had used to exchange, years before all the weirdness had started in their lives. Glances that were almost conversations. These two were coming to some sort of agreement. They broke their stare, and turned back to Xander.

Marcum spoke for both of them. "Okay, we're in."

Xander nodded and took a deep breath. "It wasn't a nuke; as I recall, those bastards used four hijacked airliners..."

Los Angeles, California. The same night

Angel stalked into his office, from the basement apartment he had below the office building. The same apartment Xander had once lived in, before the half-Brachen demon named Doyle had found him.

Cordelia looked up from behind the desk. The former cheerleader had taken to the receptionist job with some enthusiasm, if not efficiency; well, of course, that was only until the inevitable superstardom hurried up and arrived on her doorstep. "Hey, Angel."

Angel just went over and checked his message box. "No messages for me?"

Cordy shook her head. "Nope, been pretty quiet. Maybe the nighttime action might pick up! Some people - well, I assume they were people - they called asking for directions..." She tilted her head at Angel. "You know, maybe we should put in a special line for the demons? That way, I'll know if special arrangements need to be made..."

Angel glanced at Cordy with a combination of amusement and a baffled look. "I think that might offend some demons, Cordy. A few of them take pride in fitting into the human world."

Cordy just shrugged and went back to her work. "Whatever..."

"Anything from Doyle? And did you check the emails? Nothing from carpenterdude at yahoo dot com?"

Cordy looked up with a smirk. "Our little Irish Bam-Bam is mourning his latest losses at the racetrack over a beer somewhere. And yeah, I checked the account not less than 20 minutes ago. Just some junk mail. Nothing from that carpenter guy! Who is he, anyway?"

"Just some guy I helped out a while back. Before I met you and Doyle. He was supposed to stay in contact..." Angel said as he walked into his office, closing the door behind him. That effectively prevented Cordelia from asking any follow-up question about the carpenter guy, a.k.a. Xander Harris - whom she still regretted not making peace with, before he'd supposedly died.

Angel sat at his desk, a little worried. { Xander said he would check in when he got to San Francisco. Haven't heard from him yet. I may have to go looking for him, before too long... }

San Francisco, California. Later that same night

Both Marcum and Cleburne stared out the window at the San Francisco nighttime skyline, thinking their own private thoughts.

Their talk with Xander had taken a couple of hours. The former soldier had given them a broad overview of his memories of the 9/11 attacks, the hell dimension, life in Sunnydale and the First Evil's attacks during 2002-2003. He was now sleeping in another room.

"What do we do with him tomorrow?" Marcum suddenly asked.

"Move him out of town, I want us all back east ASAP. I'll feel a lot better when we have closer to home," Cleburne replied. "Also, our experts are back there. They can do a more extensive debriefing; there's a lot more we have to uncover in his memory..."

He waved off Marcum's objection. "No, I'm not saying he's hiding anything from us. Just that with all that's happened to the kid, some details are bound to have slipped into the background. After all, he spent four years as a slave in that goddamn hell dimension! Even *I* wouldn't have survived something like that, unscathed..."

Cleburne paused, and then continued, "Gotta respect his negotiation stance, though."

"In what way?"

"Most people in his position would want money, or some other kinda riches. Something for themselves, as payback for all the crap they've suffered. Him? We protect his friends and fight the bad guy. Even though he thinks they abandoned him, he still protects his friends. Stand-up terms..."

He sighed again. "So, looks like we're joining the fight against the things that go bump in the night, and this ultimate evil thing?" Both of them kept their voices down.

"It would appear so. And he called it the First Evil, or more simply the First."

"You measure all other experiences in your life, against the First time. It's a guy thing," Cleburne joked. "Yeesh, we'll need to change our organizational structure somewhat if we're gonna be dealing with the paranormal 24/7. I'll also need equipment. Different training program. Not to mention, a lot more men."

"Got any ideas for possible recruits?"

"A few, at least. It strikes me as kinda funny that those operatives slated for the Initiative, now have no place to go..."

Marcum nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yes. I want to know, why didn't we catch all this the first time around?"

"What do you mean?"

Cleburne said roughly, "September 11, 2001. It's not *that* far away! And it's exactly the kind of thing we're supposed to head off, remember? So why didn't we stop it? Why didn't Harris remember us being there, blowing up the damn planes or whatever? That thing with the First Evil, doesn't surprise me us not being there for the final battle; after all, unless we literally stumble across the weird crap we don't get involved, until now."

A shrug. "Maybe we were all dead by then. Or incapacitated. Or it just slipped through the cracks..."

"I sure as hell hope not, and I don't think we can rely on us just missing it the first time. Something happened. Personally I think there's something else out there, working against us, that wasn't made public."

"Such as?"

Cleburne glared down at the street. "I wish I knew. And, this time around, I intend to find out..."

TBC...