Setting Things Right
Author: Anime Ronin
Rating: PG – 13 (swearing)
Summary: There are some things that cannot be abided by in the grand scheme of things and in those instances a person is selected to go back and to set them right. Naturally, in this case, it is one Alexander Harris who is chosen to do so.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Feedback: Yes, please.
AN: Okay, this one will be something on the lighter side – generally how Lynda and her Ares look-a-like interact with Faith and Alex on the sidelines, occasionally with Diane in the mix (while this story may end up as a F/X, Diane would be an interesting agitator within it for when they go back to Sunnydale and she follows them).
AN2: This will be the last part of the 'Setting Things Right' series (I'll start another series to pick up where this one leaves off) – after this I shall try and finish some of my other Works In Progress and then I'll start on some real sequels. Look for a poll at the end of this story to cast your vote as to which story (not Series – the Pale Horse series already has a sequel in the works) you'd like to see have a sequel.
Setting Things Right Ch.7 – It's Like A Tennis Match, Really
"What in the hell are you doing here, Adam?" Lynda Price, Watcher of Faith Williams, The Slayer, stormed into the parlor in front of her long-time rival and constant pain-in-the-ass from childhood, Adam Michaels, dressed in her pink flannel pajamas to his dark tailored suit, furious at Adam for showing up unannounced and Alexander for letting him into the house.
Adam wore his trademark grin as he removed his sunglasses, but then lost said grin when he saw that Alexander had stopped by his room and picked up his pistol, suppressed and all, "Well, I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop in and say hi."
"Bollocks," Lynda snarled as Alexander, along with Faith, who had followed them down in a zombie-like state, went to the couch and knelt down behind it as if he were expecting an explosion of some sorts. "There are only three reasons that you show up where I am for any reason – first is the make my life a living hell with your mere presence, second is to get me to sign off on some positively American idea that can never work, and third is to see if you can try and get within my trousers, which has about as much chance of happening as the President does of becoming a priest."
Adam took up a wounded pose and expression, "Do you truly think THAT little of me, Lynda?" I'm crushed, really."
"Alex, don't lose that gun, I might need it soon," Lynda called over the couch's back, getting a two-finger salute of affirmative in return from the young man, but she also heard a snicker from Faith and could see the worried expression on Adam's face when she looked back.
"You would shoot me, Lynda?" All of the cockiness was gone, replaced with worry.
"Of course she wouldn't," came Alex's voice, followed by his head poking up over the couch, but it was the unsettling grin he wore on that face that made Lynda smile and Adam frown. "She'll probably get me to shoot you, Adam, and Faith to help dispose of your body."
"See, Adam? What did I tell you – Americans CAN be useful, especially when there is violence involved." She smirked for a second, even as a stereo of, "HEY!" was heard from behind the couch and then lost that smirk, "Now, what are you dong here?"
Adam gulped slightly and then smiled slightly, "I was sent by the Council to see you and your Slayer, actually. What I want to know is why this young man is here?"
"He's helping Faith with personal problems and with Slaying."
Adam raised an eyebrow, "You let a child do a Slayer's job?"
"Yes, especially when he has ammunition that kills vampires, is an excellent marksman, a sneaky bastard and has been sent by the Powers to help out; of course as I have not told the Council about this, you'll just have to trust me on it."
Adam paled, "The Powers? Why would they send a boy to do a man's job?"
"Because they know that I'm capable of cold-blooded murder, ya Ares wanna- be, and that's why I was selected." The Finger was shot at Adam from behind the couch and Lynda could hear a soft snoring from Faith, whom had apparently fallen back asleep, "So make sure you tell that ass wipe Travers that if he's thinking of performing that Crucitacium, or whatever it's called, on Faith, he's going to have to come through me first ... and I shoot to kill, so make sure you send someone expendable with him."
Even Lynda was silent about that for several seconds, but then a small snore from Faith broke it and she looked over at Adam, "Well, there you have it. Now, tell me, Adam, why did the Council send you here, really?"
"They sent me to inform you that in two weeks you will be heading to Sunnydale to work along side the other Slayer, Buffy Summers; I trust there will be no problems, especially with the somewhat spectacular parting that young mister Harris left with?"
"He assures me that it has been dealt with, at the very least, and I trust him. Now, your message has been delivered, so leave." She turned to go back up the stairs and go back to bed, but Adam grabbed her arm, holding her in place.
"Lynda, we have SO much to catch up on, so you can't leave just yet." His voice was smooth, like sweet butter spread upon a slice still-warm homemade bread, but she didn't fall for it for a second.
"I am tired, Adam, and you remember just how much of a crab I am capable of being when I am tired, so allow me to go back upstairs, ALONE, get a few more hours of sleep and then we shall try and have a civil conversation." Not waiting for an answer, she went back up the stairs, her footsteps occasionally punctuated by her Slayer's soft snoring.
After putting Faith back in bed, Alex was the only one in the house left to deal with this 'Adam Michaels' character; to save him the trouble of stashing his gun, he now wore it on his thigh in the tactical holster and wore a blank expression, "Coffee?"
"Yes, please. You know, I am not that dangerous, so you don't have to wear your gun."
"I'm exercising my right to bear arms, Mister Michaels, and as I don't yet trust anyone in the Council outside of Lynda and Rupert Giles, I'm keeping my options open for the time being. Cream and sugar?"
"One of each, please," Adam said in a very worried voice, and Alex was forced to turn away to keep a smirk from showing on his face. "So, Alexander, tell me, just how it is that you have resolved your problems with Slayer Summers?"
"I never said they were resolved, Mister Michaels, merely out in the open, and where it goes from there is completely up to her." Making the coffee cup up as requested, he set Adam's down in front of him and took a seat directly across from him, "So, how long have you known Lynda and what did you do to piss her off this much?"
Adam chuckled and stirred his coffee, "Nearly thirty years, and I think my mere existence annoys her to no end; apparently she is still sore about me stealing a doll of hers just after we first met."
"They CAN hold a grudge, can't they," Alex said, remembering just how much of a grudge Willow held against him for his past mistakes, the Barbie Doll Incident included. "But this must go beyond a simple doll."
Adam was silent for a moment before he spoke again, "She was fourteen, a few days older than me, actually, when her long-time crush was turned, Alex, and after he knocked her out, I staked him and then made the mistake of telling her about the entire affair. She didn't speak to me for nearly a month, and then after that she was so ... distant, I guess is the way to put it."
"Been there myself, but it's what I didn't tell them that came back to bite me in the ass." They each took a sip of coffee and Alex went back, "So what do you do in the Council of Watchers, Adam?"
"Leg work, mostly, but occasionally I research and even can make potions, so it never really gets dull. What do you do, Alexander?"
"Learn, survive, kill, and repeat as necessary, normally. Now, I'm just trying to stabilize Faith emotionally by being her friend."
"Slayers shouldn't have friends, Alexander; it makes them rely on their emotions and, thus, weak."
"Then why has Buffy lasted longer than any Slayer in the past five hundred years?"
"Because she doesn't follow the rules of her Watcher to the letter and allows untrained civilians to help her out, though I am beginning to see that your training is evident. SAS possession?"
Alex snorted, "Sport And Social? Hell no, Green Berets, twenty years starting back in '65 as a grunt in 'Nam, three tours and black ops around the world since then; bought it back in the last part of the eighties when a vamp decided he needed a late-night snack."
"Specialties?"
"Assassination, explosives, stealth tactics and strategic planning, and those are the ones that I want to remember. Why do you want to know all of this?"
Adam shrugged, "I wanted to know in case I ever pissed you off – believe it or not, not everybody within the Council is out to use the Slayers as a tool, like Travers and his cronies."
"I think I'll reserve judgment on that, Mister Michaels." He leaned forwards, making sure that he could be heard, "But if you ever hurt Faith or Lynda, or anything you say gets them hurt, I swear by God, Satan and everyone in between that I will hunt you and the ones who harmed them down and make sure your and their last day on Earth is full of pain. Am I making myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Adam managed to say, his face pale as a sheet. "Actually, I would expect nothing less of someone who works for the being known as Lex."
"Keep that in mind, then. So, family?"
Looking a little perturbed at the quickly change of subject, it took him a second to reply, "Mother and father, no wife or kids that I know of, though I'm sure that Lynda would accuse me of being a man whore and having at least a dozen kids by as many women around the world." He laughed at that, a faintly amused chuckle that seemed to carry, then took a drink of coffee, "And yourself?"
"No biological parents that I would claim, if that's what you're asking, and I'm an only child – I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not, so I'll reserve judgment." After a few seconds, though, he felt a wry grin reach his lips and gave forth a dark chuckle, "Though to tell you the truth, Tony and Jessica Harris should have never been allowed to breed, depending on whom you intend to ask – I have my father's temper, my mother's sense of humor and a proclivity to snark off at anyone whom is a good target."
"Yes, that is what your profile at the Council says."
"I have a profile? And while we're on the subject, how did you know whom I work for?"
Adam smiled, "Mister Giles is still a watcher, and even if your little, shall we say, verbal evisceration of Slayer Summers were less private, when all seven members of the Powers That Be are in one place on this plane of existence, people take notice."
"You were eavesdropping, weren't you." It wasn't a question.
Adam shrugged, "Eavesdropping is such an ugly word..."
"But it's the truth, in this case." Alex took a sip of his coffee and leaned back in the chair a little, eyes narrowed slightly in thought, "I shouldn't be surprised, really, namely because I haven't tried to be really covert about any of my doings where the Slayer wasn't directly involved."
Adam grinned, "Some of the members of the Capture Teams within the Council want to recruit you, actually, once you finish high school – apparently you have impressed them to no end."
"Capture Teams? How ... ominous."
"Ex-SAS, RMF and MI-5 members along with a smattering of foreign intelligence and military services thrown in for flavor, for the most part; you'd probably do quite well there, given the right circumstances."
Alex shook his head, "No, I don't like to wake up that early without a purpose, Mr. Michaels."
"My friends call me Adam."
"I never said I was your friend just yet, Mr. Michaels – how far would you go to protect your Slayer, if you had one, and Lynda? What rules of the Council would you be ready, willing and able to break to protect them?"
"If it keeps them alive, all of them," Adam said without a second of hesitation.
Alex nodded, "Noble words, but trust me when I say that the day will come when those words may have to be put into action – you know where I stand on the matter, so make sure you toe your line," he grinned roguishly, "ya limey bastard."
Adam grinned good-naturedly, "Sodding Yank."
Alex fired back immediately, "Git."
"Wanker."
"Sodding Poof."
"Ponce."
With a devilish grin, Alex delivered the coup de grace in the form of a dire insult to all Britons in times past, "Frenchman." (AN: This was told to me by a co-worker of mine a while back, an Englishwoman whom got to Texas as quickly as she could – she was 45 at the time)
Adam looked at him in pure horror, "TAKE THAT BACK!"
Alex gave him a cheeky grin and then took a sip of his nearly cool coffee, "Sorry, but my coffee is cold and I forgot myself for a moment. Forgive me."
Adam sniffed in mock-distain as he prepared to leave, "Cheeky sod."
"Pretty words, Alex," Faith told him as soon as he got to the top of the stairs, still dressed in her shorts and tank top, but now a pair of pink bunny slippers on her feet with two piercings in each ear. She smiled, batting her eyelashes, and strutted forwards, "You would kill for little ol' me?"
"Of course I would, Faith ... unless you took the last Twinkie, then it's every person for themselves."
She lost her smile, "I take the last Twinkie once and you never let me hear the end of it, do you. How many times have I asked you to leave the seat down when you come out of the bathroom at night? To not leave just a mouthful of milk in the fridge to spite me, let alone leave just half of a bowl of cereal for me to chow on."
"Oh, that was NOT me, toots. The cereal thief was Lynda and you and I both know it – who else besides you even eats Lucky Charms in this house?"
She looked at him oddly, "Sorry, but not everybody is a fan of Cap'n Crunch or Coco Puffs, Alex. Some of us like to have a grownup breakfast in the morning."
"Eating marshmallow-laden, shaped marshmallows none the less, cereal in a mixing bowl with half of a gallon of milk, some toast and two slices of pizza from the night before is a grownup breakfast?" (AN: Room temp. pizza and spaghetti – the breakfast of champions ... or frozen chocolate frosted Pop Tarts)
"For some, yes, it is." She drew herself up with a smile and spun 180 degrees, sauntering away, "Feel free to join me, but I'm going back to bed."
"Don't tempt me, Faith," he told her as she entered her room, to which she winked saucily at him and then shut the door. "Please don't tempt me."
Going to his room, he fired up his lap top and un-strapped his thigh holster before connecting to the Internet and logging into his e-mail; there were three pieces there and they were pieces he had been expecting for a while now. Figuring her's would be safest, he opened Willow's mail.
Alright, Mister, I have cussed you out in Hebrew and English for a while and your apology was somewhat contrite (and I don't believe you about someone being there to see you type your own attempt at my patented Willow- babble) and will be accepted when you answer me one question – why? Why didn't you tell me about your being sent back to make changes? Why didn't you trust me? Write back, soon, or else.
Hitting the reply button, he began to type; I didn't trust you because if you remember the temporal prime directive, Wills, it's better for someone to not know their own future – if I told you from when I was from, you would have found a way to get answers you were not and still are not ready for. Give my love to Dawnie, I gotta write Jenny. X.
Hitting the Send button, he went on to look at Jenny's message, Alexander, you and I need to have a SERIOUS conversation about just what your intentions are with my cousin. She has informed me that she is going to marry you so that she can strap you to her bed and ... well, use your imagination, but she is dead-set against letting you go for some odd reason. What did you do to her? Not another love spell I hope. With Love, Jenny.
He hit reply, I did not put a love spell on your cousin, Jenny – she's a beautiful young woman who will no doubt make some very lucky man VERY happy one day, but she and I ... well, I'm not sure if we would have any real chemistry. Please tell her that it is not personal, but my eyes are for a certain computer TEACHING gypsy woman (wink-wink, chuckle). Fair thee well, oh beautiful one, Alexander. Hitting the send button, he opened the last piece of mail, this one from Joyce, and immediately his throat tightened at the opening words.
Alexander Lavelle Harris, you are in trouble, young man. It took Buffy two days to stop crying at the drop of a hat after your little explosion in the cemetery, then another four at the mere mention of your name – I know that I am still very new to the concept of vampires and demons, but from what I understand you work for one of the beings that are, essentially, Buffy's bosses, have lied to us all since Halloween, have committed murder on at least one occasion (although after a talk with Mr. Giles, Mr. Rayne seemed to have gotten off lightly) and now seem to be working with the young woman who replaced Kendra, who was called after my daughter DIED (which nobody told me about).
Sigh I guess it's too much for me to handle all at once, but know that when you get back, young man, we are going to have one very serious conversation about the truthfulness that should be shred between mother and son – I realize that you will and have been forced to do things that you may not like to do, but why didn't you tell me? I like to think that I would have understood. Write back, Xander, or call. Love, Joyce.
Screwing up his courage, he set his fingers on the keyboard and began to haltingly type out a response, Joyce, I'm sorry I did what I did, but it had to be done, as it were – I needed to snap at somebody and Buffy presented the best target due to her past mistakes. Yes, your daughter died, but I brought her back, I've all but resolved the Rayne deal (it was a necessary evil, but it had to be done). I won't lie to you, Joyce, I've done a lot of questionable things before and I will more than likely do some questionable things from now on, but they are necessary – trust me on that. I'll write back more often, I promise, but for now I have to go, Xander.
Shutting down his connection to the Internet, he powered down and put away his laptop before just sitting on the edge of his bed, thinking of everything that had gone down in the past few days – Kakistos was dead, as was Trick, Lynda was still alive, Faith was now, hopefully, more emotionally stable, he'd come to terms with just what had happened with his friends (?) in Sunnydale and realized just how hard it was going to be to get them to trust him ever again.
He didn't even flinch when he felt his phone go off, "Go."
"Excellent work, Alexander, and a job well done so far. I had hopes that Mister Michaels would not probe so deeply into your connection with us, but seeing as the Council has their ways, it was bound to happen."
"Threat probability?"
"Minimal – despite Ms. Price's thoughts of him, he is a very loyal person, to her mostly, and will never betray her or Faith to the Council."
"Cool."
"Now, for the bad news – Diane Calderash, as she is known to her family, will also be following you to Sunnydale in hopes to bed with you. How you deal with this is entirely up to you, of course," the deep bass voice rumbled with a chuckle, "but she will be very persistent in her endeavor."
"Joy."
"Now, when you get back to Sunnydale, deliver the envelope I have given to you for Joyce Summers – stay with her as she reads it and comfort her until I call. She'll be fine, but it will not be pleasant news."
"Hu-ah."
"Are you tired, Alexander?"
"Not so much physically, sir, but it's been a very emotionally draining few days."
"I see – take a few days off to consider your options, but make sure to keep an eye out on Slayer Williams."
"Yes, sir." He closed the phone as the connection terminated and then flopped back onto his mattress with a suppressed snort and closed his eyes, "So very tired."
It was an odd feeling, really – he was laying on his back, could hear the sound of the washing machine somewhere on the floor below him, yet there was a heavy and pleasantly warm lump on his chest that smelled faintly of strawberries; cracking open his eyes, he saw a mass of dark hair covering a fairly young face and realized that at some point in time Faith had come into the room and had, apparently, fallen asleep across his chest. "Huh?"
"She's been there for almost an hour, Alex," Lynda's voice was filled with mirth even though he could not torque his head around that far to see her. "Comfortable?"
With a smile, he hugged Faith closer to him out of pure balls and nodded, "Oh, yes, complete contentment here, Lynda." If Faith woke up at that point, she'd probably kill him.
"Same here, Lynda." Or not; Faith's voice was drowsy from her sleep, but it was definitely all there as she sat up, "Thanks, stud."
"No problem, F," he shot back, sitting up as well. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he then yawned, vaguely noticing that Faith had not gotten off of the bed, "Comfortable?"
"Very," she mumbled from beside him, which got a chuckle from Lynda as she left and room.
Seeing as he was still a little low on sleep, he laid right back down, which caused Faith to snuggle into his side, and fell back to sleep quickly.
"Are the children well?"
"Yes, Adam, they are. Why are you here?"
"To talk, mostly – I haven't had much of a chance to catch up with you over the past few years and now that you have your Slayer, I'd like to get in a few conversations before you disappear completely." Adam leaned back into his seat, smiling slightly, "So, how have you been with Alexander here?"
"Well enough – he seems to be genuinely concerned with Faith's well being and where she is concerned, I am willing to give him just enough rope to hang himself with, as the Americans say."
"Do you really think him capable of harming her?"
"No, but I do like to keep all of my bases covered."
Adam chuckled, "How positively American of you, Lynda. So, how is it with having a Slayer to take care of and train?"
Lynda's face split into a smile and her eyes softened a little, "As close to motherhood as I shall probably get, Adam. I've seen her when she's hurt, when she's recovering, and even now when I believe she is denying that she has feelings for someone."
"Alexander, you mean."
She nodded, "Yes, though I believe that they are more Platonic than romantic in nature; he has only ever tried to protect her, which I believe that only I have ever done for her, and she finds that ... difficult to comprehend. She sees the proprietor of the computer store, Diane, as a threat to her claim on Alexander is fiercely protective of him yet I am sure that she does not see it that way."
Adam grinned, "Ah, Slayers in love."
Lynda didn't comment, merely sitting there for a moment before speaking again, "What did you and Alexander speak about this morning after I went back to bed?"
Adam lost his grin and looked decidedly uncomfortable, "He asked me why you seemed to hate me and I answered as honestly as I could; he didn't seem too surprised, really, but rather he seemed ... expectant."
"So he knows about William?"
"To an extent, yes; I told him that he knocked you out and I staked him, then told you about it. All in all, that is more or less what happened."
Lynda frowned, "You mean that you didn't tell him that William was your brother?"
"My brother was dead and that abomination merely looked, sounded and thought like him, Lynda," Adam told her flatly. "I did what I had to do to protect you when you could not protect yourself, end of story."
"I never did thank you for saving my life, did I?"
"No, you didn't, but hen again you didn't have to, Lynda; you were my friend and I did what I had to do to make sure you lived."
"Even at the cost of nearly twenty years of friendship, of being my best friend?"
Adam looked oddly reflective, then grinned sadly, "At what price victory, Lynda. At what price victory."
(AN: ACK! I think my teeth are starting to rot with how sugary this last part was, but don't worry, they'll get back to fighting like an old married couple soon enough.)
He heard a snap and then a whirring sound before it occurred to him where he was; he was still in his, that same warm lump on his chest, the same faint scent of strawberries, only this time there was a heavier scent of spice and something that he couldn't readily identify, but it was close to his nostrils. Faith, apparently, hadn't moved and seemed to be just starting to stir in her sleep as his eyes opened to reveal a grinning Lynda, holding a camera, and a smirking Adam, who appeared to have a camcorder in his hands, "Die horrible deaths, both of you."
Lynda put on a slightly affronted, if innocent, expression, "Why Alexander, did we do something to you?"
He growled slightly, his eyes flashing, "You woke me up from a pleasant nap, Lynda; I've KILLED for lesser crimes than that."
"But we have such good blackmail material now," Adam chipped in from behind the Slayer's Watcher, his camera shot angling down to capture Lynda's backside, it appeared.
"And I'm not the one taking pictures of Lynda's ass, now, am I? How's THAT for blackmail?" He smirked as Lynda spun around and made a grab at the camcorder even as Adam jerked back, out of the room, actually, and Faith began to stir even more.
"Give me that camcorder, Adam," he heard Lynda snarl at Adam, who sounded to be doing his best to Moonwalk down the stairs while dodging a grasping hand.
"What does a girl have to do to get some sleep around here, Xander?" Faith's grumbled question into his chest made him look down and see her sleepy brown eyes and mussed hair, which brought a smile to his face.
"You have to ignore the Watcher's Peanut Gallery," he grinned, even as there was a howl of indignation from the floor below them.
"That was my FOOT!"
"It could have been your HEAD, and I am NOT talking about the one on top of you SHOULDERS."
Xander felt Faith chuckle sleepily on top of his chest before she rolled over and stretched out with a groan; knowing now what he didn't know then, he would have thought her actions as an invitation, but instead he merely at up and reached over, goosing her stomach quickly, which got a squeal and a giggle out of her as she swiped back at him.
"THAT HURT!"
"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO!"
Faith looked over at him, her face split into a grin, "They both REALLY need to get laid, Xand."
He merely nodded as what sounded to be a monumental bar brawl erupted in the kitchen; there were shriek, howls, shouts, the occasional crash and more than a few hurled curses between the two combatants as the two 'children' of the house sat in mute fascination above the ruckus that the two 'adults' were causing below them. Finally, though, he got tired of it and got off of the bed, rummaging through a bag for a second before coming up with a weapon of pure intolerance, a tool of those who wished to aggravate and annoy – a large fog horn.
"That's mean, Xand."
"I am occasionally callus and strange, Faith, but when I need to be I am VERY mean." He gave her an evil grin and made his way out of the room and down the stairs.
Upon reaching the kitchen, though, his definition of evil grew to a new level as he saw Lynda stalking Adam with a skillet in one hand and a barbeque fork in the other; Adam, for his part, had the lid of a large pot in his left hand and was holding a whisk in the other like a mace; it was all he could do to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all as he positioned the air horn and let fly a mighty blast of compressed air that shook the windows in their settings.
Lynda squawked in surprise and dropped the barbeque fork while slinging the skillet in his general direction; Adam, for his part, dropped both his 'shield' and his 'mace' and covered his ears in agony as Xander found himself ducking out of the way of flying cookware.
Both looked at him indignantly and shouted, in unison, "What was THAT for, Alexander?"
Eyeing where the skillet had left a dent in the wall, he picked himself up from where he had thrown himself to keep from getting hit, he grinned un- remorsefully at the pair and wielded the air horn like a weapon, "Now, CHILDREN, are we going to behave?"
Lynda growled several words under her breath as Adam picked up his whisk again, tossing it to Lynda, and began to advance, neither of them saying anything to him as he began to back up, wondering if he had done the wrong thing in using the air horn to get their attention and break up the fight, "Now, don't be hasty, you two."
"Why Alexander," Lynda purred in a saccharine sweet voice. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Yes, why would we do anything hasty?" Adam stooped to pick up the fallen skillet, and when he came back up he was wearing a grin worthy of Ares himself – purely malevolent and evil.
"Eep!" Was all he was able to get out as they rushed him – the fight for survival was once again on, but this time he couldn't shoot back.
"What happened to you, Harris?" Diane's voice was sympathetic as he walked into 'Whiz Kids' computer store and limped as he did, "You get hit by a truck or something?"
"Or something, Diane." He walked over to where she stood behind the desk, her hair still electric blue, though she was not in leather and a halter top today, but rather a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, "So, how are you?"
"Good; I'm going to be going to California pretty soon to help out my cousin Jenny in Sunnydale for a while, so we'll be seeing more of each other in case..." she left the statement hanging and wore a grin the size of Texas.
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Diane, but before pleasure, there must be business – those programs I asked for?"
"Ah, here." She went to rummage around for several minutes as he remembered the translation, Internet searching, and CAD/CAM programs that he had asked for shortly after getting the computer to begin with – they might not be useful just yet, but one could never know the future in it's entirety.
Once the transaction was made, she smiled at him again, "So, what are your plans if you go back to California?"
"Survive high school, mostly, but after that I'm going to try to get into college, or if not, go into the military."
She boldly looked him up and down, "Well, I always did have a thing for men in uniform..."
"Stop trying to get in his pants, Diane." He turned to see Faith walking into the store, a grin on her face as she came up to him and hugged him hugely, "That is to say, unless I can join you."
That caught him off guard enough to allow a blush to spread across his cheeks as the pair began to plot out just what they would do to him once they got him into the same bed together, but thankfully another phone call from Lex saved him, "Go."
"Are you well, Alexander?"
"I think these two are trying to kill me with embarrassment, Lex. What's the problem?"
Lex's grin could be felt from the other end of the phone, "No problems, Alexander, merely a warning that in two weeks you, Faith and Lynda will be on your way back to Sunnydale."
"Well, shit."
"Indeed."
"Problems, Xand?" Faith's voice was full of worry as she walked around to look at him.
"No, my boss just gave me a time frame on how much longer we're going to be Boston."
"Oh." She then slapped his arm, "Don't worry me like that!"
"Abuse," he grumbled, rubbing the offended extremity as Diane began to chuckle. "I thought I told you I wasn't into that kind of stuff."
She blinked and then smiled, "Hey, it can't all be vanilla; you need kinks every now and then."
In the background, Diane sounded as if she was about to die from laughter as he put on an indignant face, "HEY! Vanilla happens to be my favorite flavor, Faith." He then looked thoughtful, "Though what is the old saying ... oh yeah, 'It's only kinky the first few times'. I guess that means we need to get started on the kinky stuff."
Diane howled as Faith blushed, gaping to make a comment as he dropped the money on the counter, grabbed the program CD's and waved goodbye to Diane, "Later, Ladies." It wasn't often that he could make Faith blush, so he took every chance he could get when it presented itself.
"Well, the house is still standing," he mumbled as he walked into the residence, creeping as he did, watching for the demonic duo of Adam and Lynda (absently rubbing the back of his head where she had tagged him with a whisk – if swung hard enough, they really could hurt) as he did, until he reached the kitchen, where he saw both Adam and Lynda sipping quietly on some tea. "Is there a cease fire I need to know about?"
Lynda smiled, "No, Alexander, nothing that you need to worry yourself with; that earlier ... display ... was something of a reunion of an old friendship."
"Friendship?"
"Yeah, well, with friends like hers, I don't need enemies." Adam chuckled and then winced as Lynda kicked him beneath the table, "Sorry about the whisk thing, Alex."
"I should have kept my nose out of it, actually, but I have news; I'm heading back to Sunny D in a few weeks."
"As are we; Mister Travers has informed me that our time here in Boston is done – he does, however, wish to meet with you in hopes that he can persuade you to work for him."
"On a hot day in the coldest regions of Hell; I know him and I don't like him, nor do I trust him any further than I can throw the Queen Mary II." He hopped up on the counter and sighed, "What in the hell am I going to do now?"
"First of all, you can get off of my counter," Lynda told him primly, which he obeyed immediately. "Secondly, you can tell us where you'll be staying once you get back to Sunnydale."
"My place near the University, though I must say now that I have been a bit too free with information in the past, so that's all you get from me for now."
Adam struck a wounded pose, "Don't you trust me?"
"Of course not, Adam, but then again," he smiled and turned, "you should not trust me either."
"I trust nobody but myself, Alex; I realize that it's not anything personal..."
"But it's business, I know." He looked over at Lynda, who had a slightly disturbed look on her face, "Do you trust me, Lynda?"
"With Faith's well-being, yes; I have figured out that you would not compromise that for anything.. I do, however, trust you with my own life, just as I hope you trust me with yours."
"I eat your cooking, don't I?" He grinned to take some of the bite out of the comment, but Adam nearly choked on his tea as Lynda kicked him under the table, "I trust you to do what is necessary and right."
"Good, now go back upstairs and check on your computer." He arched his eyebrow at her and she continued, "I heard it saying 'You've Got Mail' several times in the past few minutes."
"Cool. Play nice, kids." Hustling it upstairs, he ignored her glare and Adam's chuckle and then, once reaching his room, he turned off his Lion King screensaver that showed the three Hyenas and pulled up his e-mail. There were four pieces of mail, three of which were junk, but the last one was from Buffy. Steeling himself, he clicked it open and was surprised that it didn't detonate his computer instantly.
Alexander, there are no real words to say just how much your words in the cemetery hurt me, but then again there are some parts to your speech that rang true enough that I have to admit to them – no, I didn't want to deal with Angelus, because I couldn't see him because of my love of Angel. I'm sorry that I let him out and couldn't deal with the consequences, but nothing I can do can change the fact that it happened.
I'm also sorry about Kendra and that Brittany girl (when did you meet her?) but Kendra was a Slayer, so her days were already numbered. Harsh but true. Why didn't you tell us about why she needed to die? I like to think I would have understood.
Why didn't you tell us about any of it at all to being with? We could have helped you? Did you not trust us? Why did you hide your memories of the Hyena? Why?
Sigh I can't say that we'll ever be friends again, like we were ... but I am willing to at least try to rebuild what we had to a degree. Don't expect me to trust you 100% because you burned me once, bad, and if you do it again, it'll be my own damned fault. Maybe, and this is a big maybe, we can get along well enough together to at least not hurl insults at fifty paces.
Now, to the important stuff – do I become prom queen? I mean, you ARE from the future, right? Anyway, what's in fashion? Who is with who? Do we save the world? Do I graduate? Does Dawn finally go away and stop being a pest? TELL ME! BAS.
He couldn't help but smile at the last portion of her e-mail – apparently nothing had really changed as far as timelines went. He was also partially relieved that she had gotten over anything resembling homicidal in nature and had, apparently, thought about extending an olive branch.
First of all, let me say that I'm glad your e-mail didn't detonate my new computer (it was kinda expensive) and I didn't tell you anything because a) it was classified out the yang by my boss, and b)I'm not sure how you would have handled the truth of the fact of what you had done in the previous time line. For future reference I will not tell you or anyone what is to come – what you don't know, you can't tell if tortured or you can't screw up / with.
I kept my Hyena memories from you for a damned good reason – I wanted to forget the incident ever happened, yet seeing what I had done to you it seemed pertinent for me to give you some ammo against me to use at some point in time. I'm not proud of what it did to you or the others while in charge, but those are memories that I will have to deal with eventually – oh, and tell Willow that if she tries any memory mojo on me, I will be VERY cross with her (I know you think that she isn't capable of anything like that, but I've learned to never discount what a little power can do to someone – take me for example).
As for us possibly being friends again, I'm not sure how to go about that – here in Boston I have, or like to think I have, become friends with Kendra's replacement, Faith, and while you and she might or might not get along, let me tell you that she and I are easier friends at worst then you and I were ever at best. She and I ... click ... if that's the term I want to use, but not in an expectant way that I once hoped you and I would be (that ship sailed a while back). Oh, FYI, we won't hurl insults at fifty paces – I prefer to shoot at that distance (and before we get too much further, yes, bullets DO kill vampires, and NO, I am NOT going to stop using them – deal with it).
Now, for your 'important' stuff – well, I'm not telling you anything more than little Dawnie is more of fixture in your life and is not a pest of any kind. I have, however, gotten her something that should keep Mr. Gordo in your room, not hers. Don't think too much about the animal I picked – it's from her favorite movie. ALH.
Hitting the send button, he leaned back in his chair and thought ahead to the near and not-so-near future, wondering what it held even as he smelled Faith entering his room. With a grin, he stood, turned and smiled even as she walked forwards and hugged him – they might or might not get together in the future, but friends needed very little reason to hug.
"So, two weeks?"
"Two weeks, Faith, then you get to meet the rest of the gang ... for better or worse."
AN1: I know the ending is somewhat sappy, but I needed to finish and this was just calling out for some odd reason. Don't worry, I'll try and do better in the neat future. AR.
AN2: Okay, that's it for Setting Things Right Ch. 7, not to mention this series of stories. There will be a sequel to this, but it will be a while off as I need to finish up some of my other WIP's, so now for that poll.
Which WIP should I finish first:
-With The Will And A Word
-Without Mercy Or Remorse
-From Darkness To Light
-The Assassin And The Sorceress
Thanks for your input, AR.
Author: Anime Ronin
Rating: PG – 13 (swearing)
Summary: There are some things that cannot be abided by in the grand scheme of things and in those instances a person is selected to go back and to set them right. Naturally, in this case, it is one Alexander Harris who is chosen to do so.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Feedback: Yes, please.
AN: Okay, this one will be something on the lighter side – generally how Lynda and her Ares look-a-like interact with Faith and Alex on the sidelines, occasionally with Diane in the mix (while this story may end up as a F/X, Diane would be an interesting agitator within it for when they go back to Sunnydale and she follows them).
AN2: This will be the last part of the 'Setting Things Right' series (I'll start another series to pick up where this one leaves off) – after this I shall try and finish some of my other Works In Progress and then I'll start on some real sequels. Look for a poll at the end of this story to cast your vote as to which story (not Series – the Pale Horse series already has a sequel in the works) you'd like to see have a sequel.
Setting Things Right Ch.7 – It's Like A Tennis Match, Really
"What in the hell are you doing here, Adam?" Lynda Price, Watcher of Faith Williams, The Slayer, stormed into the parlor in front of her long-time rival and constant pain-in-the-ass from childhood, Adam Michaels, dressed in her pink flannel pajamas to his dark tailored suit, furious at Adam for showing up unannounced and Alexander for letting him into the house.
Adam wore his trademark grin as he removed his sunglasses, but then lost said grin when he saw that Alexander had stopped by his room and picked up his pistol, suppressed and all, "Well, I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop in and say hi."
"Bollocks," Lynda snarled as Alexander, along with Faith, who had followed them down in a zombie-like state, went to the couch and knelt down behind it as if he were expecting an explosion of some sorts. "There are only three reasons that you show up where I am for any reason – first is the make my life a living hell with your mere presence, second is to get me to sign off on some positively American idea that can never work, and third is to see if you can try and get within my trousers, which has about as much chance of happening as the President does of becoming a priest."
Adam took up a wounded pose and expression, "Do you truly think THAT little of me, Lynda?" I'm crushed, really."
"Alex, don't lose that gun, I might need it soon," Lynda called over the couch's back, getting a two-finger salute of affirmative in return from the young man, but she also heard a snicker from Faith and could see the worried expression on Adam's face when she looked back.
"You would shoot me, Lynda?" All of the cockiness was gone, replaced with worry.
"Of course she wouldn't," came Alex's voice, followed by his head poking up over the couch, but it was the unsettling grin he wore on that face that made Lynda smile and Adam frown. "She'll probably get me to shoot you, Adam, and Faith to help dispose of your body."
"See, Adam? What did I tell you – Americans CAN be useful, especially when there is violence involved." She smirked for a second, even as a stereo of, "HEY!" was heard from behind the couch and then lost that smirk, "Now, what are you dong here?"
Adam gulped slightly and then smiled slightly, "I was sent by the Council to see you and your Slayer, actually. What I want to know is why this young man is here?"
"He's helping Faith with personal problems and with Slaying."
Adam raised an eyebrow, "You let a child do a Slayer's job?"
"Yes, especially when he has ammunition that kills vampires, is an excellent marksman, a sneaky bastard and has been sent by the Powers to help out; of course as I have not told the Council about this, you'll just have to trust me on it."
Adam paled, "The Powers? Why would they send a boy to do a man's job?"
"Because they know that I'm capable of cold-blooded murder, ya Ares wanna- be, and that's why I was selected." The Finger was shot at Adam from behind the couch and Lynda could hear a soft snoring from Faith, whom had apparently fallen back asleep, "So make sure you tell that ass wipe Travers that if he's thinking of performing that Crucitacium, or whatever it's called, on Faith, he's going to have to come through me first ... and I shoot to kill, so make sure you send someone expendable with him."
Even Lynda was silent about that for several seconds, but then a small snore from Faith broke it and she looked over at Adam, "Well, there you have it. Now, tell me, Adam, why did the Council send you here, really?"
"They sent me to inform you that in two weeks you will be heading to Sunnydale to work along side the other Slayer, Buffy Summers; I trust there will be no problems, especially with the somewhat spectacular parting that young mister Harris left with?"
"He assures me that it has been dealt with, at the very least, and I trust him. Now, your message has been delivered, so leave." She turned to go back up the stairs and go back to bed, but Adam grabbed her arm, holding her in place.
"Lynda, we have SO much to catch up on, so you can't leave just yet." His voice was smooth, like sweet butter spread upon a slice still-warm homemade bread, but she didn't fall for it for a second.
"I am tired, Adam, and you remember just how much of a crab I am capable of being when I am tired, so allow me to go back upstairs, ALONE, get a few more hours of sleep and then we shall try and have a civil conversation." Not waiting for an answer, she went back up the stairs, her footsteps occasionally punctuated by her Slayer's soft snoring.
After putting Faith back in bed, Alex was the only one in the house left to deal with this 'Adam Michaels' character; to save him the trouble of stashing his gun, he now wore it on his thigh in the tactical holster and wore a blank expression, "Coffee?"
"Yes, please. You know, I am not that dangerous, so you don't have to wear your gun."
"I'm exercising my right to bear arms, Mister Michaels, and as I don't yet trust anyone in the Council outside of Lynda and Rupert Giles, I'm keeping my options open for the time being. Cream and sugar?"
"One of each, please," Adam said in a very worried voice, and Alex was forced to turn away to keep a smirk from showing on his face. "So, Alexander, tell me, just how it is that you have resolved your problems with Slayer Summers?"
"I never said they were resolved, Mister Michaels, merely out in the open, and where it goes from there is completely up to her." Making the coffee cup up as requested, he set Adam's down in front of him and took a seat directly across from him, "So, how long have you known Lynda and what did you do to piss her off this much?"
Adam chuckled and stirred his coffee, "Nearly thirty years, and I think my mere existence annoys her to no end; apparently she is still sore about me stealing a doll of hers just after we first met."
"They CAN hold a grudge, can't they," Alex said, remembering just how much of a grudge Willow held against him for his past mistakes, the Barbie Doll Incident included. "But this must go beyond a simple doll."
Adam was silent for a moment before he spoke again, "She was fourteen, a few days older than me, actually, when her long-time crush was turned, Alex, and after he knocked her out, I staked him and then made the mistake of telling her about the entire affair. She didn't speak to me for nearly a month, and then after that she was so ... distant, I guess is the way to put it."
"Been there myself, but it's what I didn't tell them that came back to bite me in the ass." They each took a sip of coffee and Alex went back, "So what do you do in the Council of Watchers, Adam?"
"Leg work, mostly, but occasionally I research and even can make potions, so it never really gets dull. What do you do, Alexander?"
"Learn, survive, kill, and repeat as necessary, normally. Now, I'm just trying to stabilize Faith emotionally by being her friend."
"Slayers shouldn't have friends, Alexander; it makes them rely on their emotions and, thus, weak."
"Then why has Buffy lasted longer than any Slayer in the past five hundred years?"
"Because she doesn't follow the rules of her Watcher to the letter and allows untrained civilians to help her out, though I am beginning to see that your training is evident. SAS possession?"
Alex snorted, "Sport And Social? Hell no, Green Berets, twenty years starting back in '65 as a grunt in 'Nam, three tours and black ops around the world since then; bought it back in the last part of the eighties when a vamp decided he needed a late-night snack."
"Specialties?"
"Assassination, explosives, stealth tactics and strategic planning, and those are the ones that I want to remember. Why do you want to know all of this?"
Adam shrugged, "I wanted to know in case I ever pissed you off – believe it or not, not everybody within the Council is out to use the Slayers as a tool, like Travers and his cronies."
"I think I'll reserve judgment on that, Mister Michaels." He leaned forwards, making sure that he could be heard, "But if you ever hurt Faith or Lynda, or anything you say gets them hurt, I swear by God, Satan and everyone in between that I will hunt you and the ones who harmed them down and make sure your and their last day on Earth is full of pain. Am I making myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Adam managed to say, his face pale as a sheet. "Actually, I would expect nothing less of someone who works for the being known as Lex."
"Keep that in mind, then. So, family?"
Looking a little perturbed at the quickly change of subject, it took him a second to reply, "Mother and father, no wife or kids that I know of, though I'm sure that Lynda would accuse me of being a man whore and having at least a dozen kids by as many women around the world." He laughed at that, a faintly amused chuckle that seemed to carry, then took a drink of coffee, "And yourself?"
"No biological parents that I would claim, if that's what you're asking, and I'm an only child – I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not, so I'll reserve judgment." After a few seconds, though, he felt a wry grin reach his lips and gave forth a dark chuckle, "Though to tell you the truth, Tony and Jessica Harris should have never been allowed to breed, depending on whom you intend to ask – I have my father's temper, my mother's sense of humor and a proclivity to snark off at anyone whom is a good target."
"Yes, that is what your profile at the Council says."
"I have a profile? And while we're on the subject, how did you know whom I work for?"
Adam smiled, "Mister Giles is still a watcher, and even if your little, shall we say, verbal evisceration of Slayer Summers were less private, when all seven members of the Powers That Be are in one place on this plane of existence, people take notice."
"You were eavesdropping, weren't you." It wasn't a question.
Adam shrugged, "Eavesdropping is such an ugly word..."
"But it's the truth, in this case." Alex took a sip of his coffee and leaned back in the chair a little, eyes narrowed slightly in thought, "I shouldn't be surprised, really, namely because I haven't tried to be really covert about any of my doings where the Slayer wasn't directly involved."
Adam grinned, "Some of the members of the Capture Teams within the Council want to recruit you, actually, once you finish high school – apparently you have impressed them to no end."
"Capture Teams? How ... ominous."
"Ex-SAS, RMF and MI-5 members along with a smattering of foreign intelligence and military services thrown in for flavor, for the most part; you'd probably do quite well there, given the right circumstances."
Alex shook his head, "No, I don't like to wake up that early without a purpose, Mr. Michaels."
"My friends call me Adam."
"I never said I was your friend just yet, Mr. Michaels – how far would you go to protect your Slayer, if you had one, and Lynda? What rules of the Council would you be ready, willing and able to break to protect them?"
"If it keeps them alive, all of them," Adam said without a second of hesitation.
Alex nodded, "Noble words, but trust me when I say that the day will come when those words may have to be put into action – you know where I stand on the matter, so make sure you toe your line," he grinned roguishly, "ya limey bastard."
Adam grinned good-naturedly, "Sodding Yank."
Alex fired back immediately, "Git."
"Wanker."
"Sodding Poof."
"Ponce."
With a devilish grin, Alex delivered the coup de grace in the form of a dire insult to all Britons in times past, "Frenchman." (AN: This was told to me by a co-worker of mine a while back, an Englishwoman whom got to Texas as quickly as she could – she was 45 at the time)
Adam looked at him in pure horror, "TAKE THAT BACK!"
Alex gave him a cheeky grin and then took a sip of his nearly cool coffee, "Sorry, but my coffee is cold and I forgot myself for a moment. Forgive me."
Adam sniffed in mock-distain as he prepared to leave, "Cheeky sod."
"Pretty words, Alex," Faith told him as soon as he got to the top of the stairs, still dressed in her shorts and tank top, but now a pair of pink bunny slippers on her feet with two piercings in each ear. She smiled, batting her eyelashes, and strutted forwards, "You would kill for little ol' me?"
"Of course I would, Faith ... unless you took the last Twinkie, then it's every person for themselves."
She lost her smile, "I take the last Twinkie once and you never let me hear the end of it, do you. How many times have I asked you to leave the seat down when you come out of the bathroom at night? To not leave just a mouthful of milk in the fridge to spite me, let alone leave just half of a bowl of cereal for me to chow on."
"Oh, that was NOT me, toots. The cereal thief was Lynda and you and I both know it – who else besides you even eats Lucky Charms in this house?"
She looked at him oddly, "Sorry, but not everybody is a fan of Cap'n Crunch or Coco Puffs, Alex. Some of us like to have a grownup breakfast in the morning."
"Eating marshmallow-laden, shaped marshmallows none the less, cereal in a mixing bowl with half of a gallon of milk, some toast and two slices of pizza from the night before is a grownup breakfast?" (AN: Room temp. pizza and spaghetti – the breakfast of champions ... or frozen chocolate frosted Pop Tarts)
"For some, yes, it is." She drew herself up with a smile and spun 180 degrees, sauntering away, "Feel free to join me, but I'm going back to bed."
"Don't tempt me, Faith," he told her as she entered her room, to which she winked saucily at him and then shut the door. "Please don't tempt me."
Going to his room, he fired up his lap top and un-strapped his thigh holster before connecting to the Internet and logging into his e-mail; there were three pieces there and they were pieces he had been expecting for a while now. Figuring her's would be safest, he opened Willow's mail.
Alright, Mister, I have cussed you out in Hebrew and English for a while and your apology was somewhat contrite (and I don't believe you about someone being there to see you type your own attempt at my patented Willow- babble) and will be accepted when you answer me one question – why? Why didn't you tell me about your being sent back to make changes? Why didn't you trust me? Write back, soon, or else.
Hitting the reply button, he began to type; I didn't trust you because if you remember the temporal prime directive, Wills, it's better for someone to not know their own future – if I told you from when I was from, you would have found a way to get answers you were not and still are not ready for. Give my love to Dawnie, I gotta write Jenny. X.
Hitting the Send button, he went on to look at Jenny's message, Alexander, you and I need to have a SERIOUS conversation about just what your intentions are with my cousin. She has informed me that she is going to marry you so that she can strap you to her bed and ... well, use your imagination, but she is dead-set against letting you go for some odd reason. What did you do to her? Not another love spell I hope. With Love, Jenny.
He hit reply, I did not put a love spell on your cousin, Jenny – she's a beautiful young woman who will no doubt make some very lucky man VERY happy one day, but she and I ... well, I'm not sure if we would have any real chemistry. Please tell her that it is not personal, but my eyes are for a certain computer TEACHING gypsy woman (wink-wink, chuckle). Fair thee well, oh beautiful one, Alexander. Hitting the send button, he opened the last piece of mail, this one from Joyce, and immediately his throat tightened at the opening words.
Alexander Lavelle Harris, you are in trouble, young man. It took Buffy two days to stop crying at the drop of a hat after your little explosion in the cemetery, then another four at the mere mention of your name – I know that I am still very new to the concept of vampires and demons, but from what I understand you work for one of the beings that are, essentially, Buffy's bosses, have lied to us all since Halloween, have committed murder on at least one occasion (although after a talk with Mr. Giles, Mr. Rayne seemed to have gotten off lightly) and now seem to be working with the young woman who replaced Kendra, who was called after my daughter DIED (which nobody told me about).
Sigh I guess it's too much for me to handle all at once, but know that when you get back, young man, we are going to have one very serious conversation about the truthfulness that should be shred between mother and son – I realize that you will and have been forced to do things that you may not like to do, but why didn't you tell me? I like to think that I would have understood. Write back, Xander, or call. Love, Joyce.
Screwing up his courage, he set his fingers on the keyboard and began to haltingly type out a response, Joyce, I'm sorry I did what I did, but it had to be done, as it were – I needed to snap at somebody and Buffy presented the best target due to her past mistakes. Yes, your daughter died, but I brought her back, I've all but resolved the Rayne deal (it was a necessary evil, but it had to be done). I won't lie to you, Joyce, I've done a lot of questionable things before and I will more than likely do some questionable things from now on, but they are necessary – trust me on that. I'll write back more often, I promise, but for now I have to go, Xander.
Shutting down his connection to the Internet, he powered down and put away his laptop before just sitting on the edge of his bed, thinking of everything that had gone down in the past few days – Kakistos was dead, as was Trick, Lynda was still alive, Faith was now, hopefully, more emotionally stable, he'd come to terms with just what had happened with his friends (?) in Sunnydale and realized just how hard it was going to be to get them to trust him ever again.
He didn't even flinch when he felt his phone go off, "Go."
"Excellent work, Alexander, and a job well done so far. I had hopes that Mister Michaels would not probe so deeply into your connection with us, but seeing as the Council has their ways, it was bound to happen."
"Threat probability?"
"Minimal – despite Ms. Price's thoughts of him, he is a very loyal person, to her mostly, and will never betray her or Faith to the Council."
"Cool."
"Now, for the bad news – Diane Calderash, as she is known to her family, will also be following you to Sunnydale in hopes to bed with you. How you deal with this is entirely up to you, of course," the deep bass voice rumbled with a chuckle, "but she will be very persistent in her endeavor."
"Joy."
"Now, when you get back to Sunnydale, deliver the envelope I have given to you for Joyce Summers – stay with her as she reads it and comfort her until I call. She'll be fine, but it will not be pleasant news."
"Hu-ah."
"Are you tired, Alexander?"
"Not so much physically, sir, but it's been a very emotionally draining few days."
"I see – take a few days off to consider your options, but make sure to keep an eye out on Slayer Williams."
"Yes, sir." He closed the phone as the connection terminated and then flopped back onto his mattress with a suppressed snort and closed his eyes, "So very tired."
It was an odd feeling, really – he was laying on his back, could hear the sound of the washing machine somewhere on the floor below him, yet there was a heavy and pleasantly warm lump on his chest that smelled faintly of strawberries; cracking open his eyes, he saw a mass of dark hair covering a fairly young face and realized that at some point in time Faith had come into the room and had, apparently, fallen asleep across his chest. "Huh?"
"She's been there for almost an hour, Alex," Lynda's voice was filled with mirth even though he could not torque his head around that far to see her. "Comfortable?"
With a smile, he hugged Faith closer to him out of pure balls and nodded, "Oh, yes, complete contentment here, Lynda." If Faith woke up at that point, she'd probably kill him.
"Same here, Lynda." Or not; Faith's voice was drowsy from her sleep, but it was definitely all there as she sat up, "Thanks, stud."
"No problem, F," he shot back, sitting up as well. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he then yawned, vaguely noticing that Faith had not gotten off of the bed, "Comfortable?"
"Very," she mumbled from beside him, which got a chuckle from Lynda as she left and room.
Seeing as he was still a little low on sleep, he laid right back down, which caused Faith to snuggle into his side, and fell back to sleep quickly.
"Are the children well?"
"Yes, Adam, they are. Why are you here?"
"To talk, mostly – I haven't had much of a chance to catch up with you over the past few years and now that you have your Slayer, I'd like to get in a few conversations before you disappear completely." Adam leaned back into his seat, smiling slightly, "So, how have you been with Alexander here?"
"Well enough – he seems to be genuinely concerned with Faith's well being and where she is concerned, I am willing to give him just enough rope to hang himself with, as the Americans say."
"Do you really think him capable of harming her?"
"No, but I do like to keep all of my bases covered."
Adam chuckled, "How positively American of you, Lynda. So, how is it with having a Slayer to take care of and train?"
Lynda's face split into a smile and her eyes softened a little, "As close to motherhood as I shall probably get, Adam. I've seen her when she's hurt, when she's recovering, and even now when I believe she is denying that she has feelings for someone."
"Alexander, you mean."
She nodded, "Yes, though I believe that they are more Platonic than romantic in nature; he has only ever tried to protect her, which I believe that only I have ever done for her, and she finds that ... difficult to comprehend. She sees the proprietor of the computer store, Diane, as a threat to her claim on Alexander is fiercely protective of him yet I am sure that she does not see it that way."
Adam grinned, "Ah, Slayers in love."
Lynda didn't comment, merely sitting there for a moment before speaking again, "What did you and Alexander speak about this morning after I went back to bed?"
Adam lost his grin and looked decidedly uncomfortable, "He asked me why you seemed to hate me and I answered as honestly as I could; he didn't seem too surprised, really, but rather he seemed ... expectant."
"So he knows about William?"
"To an extent, yes; I told him that he knocked you out and I staked him, then told you about it. All in all, that is more or less what happened."
Lynda frowned, "You mean that you didn't tell him that William was your brother?"
"My brother was dead and that abomination merely looked, sounded and thought like him, Lynda," Adam told her flatly. "I did what I had to do to protect you when you could not protect yourself, end of story."
"I never did thank you for saving my life, did I?"
"No, you didn't, but hen again you didn't have to, Lynda; you were my friend and I did what I had to do to make sure you lived."
"Even at the cost of nearly twenty years of friendship, of being my best friend?"
Adam looked oddly reflective, then grinned sadly, "At what price victory, Lynda. At what price victory."
(AN: ACK! I think my teeth are starting to rot with how sugary this last part was, but don't worry, they'll get back to fighting like an old married couple soon enough.)
He heard a snap and then a whirring sound before it occurred to him where he was; he was still in his, that same warm lump on his chest, the same faint scent of strawberries, only this time there was a heavier scent of spice and something that he couldn't readily identify, but it was close to his nostrils. Faith, apparently, hadn't moved and seemed to be just starting to stir in her sleep as his eyes opened to reveal a grinning Lynda, holding a camera, and a smirking Adam, who appeared to have a camcorder in his hands, "Die horrible deaths, both of you."
Lynda put on a slightly affronted, if innocent, expression, "Why Alexander, did we do something to you?"
He growled slightly, his eyes flashing, "You woke me up from a pleasant nap, Lynda; I've KILLED for lesser crimes than that."
"But we have such good blackmail material now," Adam chipped in from behind the Slayer's Watcher, his camera shot angling down to capture Lynda's backside, it appeared.
"And I'm not the one taking pictures of Lynda's ass, now, am I? How's THAT for blackmail?" He smirked as Lynda spun around and made a grab at the camcorder even as Adam jerked back, out of the room, actually, and Faith began to stir even more.
"Give me that camcorder, Adam," he heard Lynda snarl at Adam, who sounded to be doing his best to Moonwalk down the stairs while dodging a grasping hand.
"What does a girl have to do to get some sleep around here, Xander?" Faith's grumbled question into his chest made him look down and see her sleepy brown eyes and mussed hair, which brought a smile to his face.
"You have to ignore the Watcher's Peanut Gallery," he grinned, even as there was a howl of indignation from the floor below them.
"That was my FOOT!"
"It could have been your HEAD, and I am NOT talking about the one on top of you SHOULDERS."
Xander felt Faith chuckle sleepily on top of his chest before she rolled over and stretched out with a groan; knowing now what he didn't know then, he would have thought her actions as an invitation, but instead he merely at up and reached over, goosing her stomach quickly, which got a squeal and a giggle out of her as she swiped back at him.
"THAT HURT!"
"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO!"
Faith looked over at him, her face split into a grin, "They both REALLY need to get laid, Xand."
He merely nodded as what sounded to be a monumental bar brawl erupted in the kitchen; there were shriek, howls, shouts, the occasional crash and more than a few hurled curses between the two combatants as the two 'children' of the house sat in mute fascination above the ruckus that the two 'adults' were causing below them. Finally, though, he got tired of it and got off of the bed, rummaging through a bag for a second before coming up with a weapon of pure intolerance, a tool of those who wished to aggravate and annoy – a large fog horn.
"That's mean, Xand."
"I am occasionally callus and strange, Faith, but when I need to be I am VERY mean." He gave her an evil grin and made his way out of the room and down the stairs.
Upon reaching the kitchen, though, his definition of evil grew to a new level as he saw Lynda stalking Adam with a skillet in one hand and a barbeque fork in the other; Adam, for his part, had the lid of a large pot in his left hand and was holding a whisk in the other like a mace; it was all he could do to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all as he positioned the air horn and let fly a mighty blast of compressed air that shook the windows in their settings.
Lynda squawked in surprise and dropped the barbeque fork while slinging the skillet in his general direction; Adam, for his part, dropped both his 'shield' and his 'mace' and covered his ears in agony as Xander found himself ducking out of the way of flying cookware.
Both looked at him indignantly and shouted, in unison, "What was THAT for, Alexander?"
Eyeing where the skillet had left a dent in the wall, he picked himself up from where he had thrown himself to keep from getting hit, he grinned un- remorsefully at the pair and wielded the air horn like a weapon, "Now, CHILDREN, are we going to behave?"
Lynda growled several words under her breath as Adam picked up his whisk again, tossing it to Lynda, and began to advance, neither of them saying anything to him as he began to back up, wondering if he had done the wrong thing in using the air horn to get their attention and break up the fight, "Now, don't be hasty, you two."
"Why Alexander," Lynda purred in a saccharine sweet voice. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Yes, why would we do anything hasty?" Adam stooped to pick up the fallen skillet, and when he came back up he was wearing a grin worthy of Ares himself – purely malevolent and evil.
"Eep!" Was all he was able to get out as they rushed him – the fight for survival was once again on, but this time he couldn't shoot back.
"What happened to you, Harris?" Diane's voice was sympathetic as he walked into 'Whiz Kids' computer store and limped as he did, "You get hit by a truck or something?"
"Or something, Diane." He walked over to where she stood behind the desk, her hair still electric blue, though she was not in leather and a halter top today, but rather a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, "So, how are you?"
"Good; I'm going to be going to California pretty soon to help out my cousin Jenny in Sunnydale for a while, so we'll be seeing more of each other in case..." she left the statement hanging and wore a grin the size of Texas.
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Diane, but before pleasure, there must be business – those programs I asked for?"
"Ah, here." She went to rummage around for several minutes as he remembered the translation, Internet searching, and CAD/CAM programs that he had asked for shortly after getting the computer to begin with – they might not be useful just yet, but one could never know the future in it's entirety.
Once the transaction was made, she smiled at him again, "So, what are your plans if you go back to California?"
"Survive high school, mostly, but after that I'm going to try to get into college, or if not, go into the military."
She boldly looked him up and down, "Well, I always did have a thing for men in uniform..."
"Stop trying to get in his pants, Diane." He turned to see Faith walking into the store, a grin on her face as she came up to him and hugged him hugely, "That is to say, unless I can join you."
That caught him off guard enough to allow a blush to spread across his cheeks as the pair began to plot out just what they would do to him once they got him into the same bed together, but thankfully another phone call from Lex saved him, "Go."
"Are you well, Alexander?"
"I think these two are trying to kill me with embarrassment, Lex. What's the problem?"
Lex's grin could be felt from the other end of the phone, "No problems, Alexander, merely a warning that in two weeks you, Faith and Lynda will be on your way back to Sunnydale."
"Well, shit."
"Indeed."
"Problems, Xand?" Faith's voice was full of worry as she walked around to look at him.
"No, my boss just gave me a time frame on how much longer we're going to be Boston."
"Oh." She then slapped his arm, "Don't worry me like that!"
"Abuse," he grumbled, rubbing the offended extremity as Diane began to chuckle. "I thought I told you I wasn't into that kind of stuff."
She blinked and then smiled, "Hey, it can't all be vanilla; you need kinks every now and then."
In the background, Diane sounded as if she was about to die from laughter as he put on an indignant face, "HEY! Vanilla happens to be my favorite flavor, Faith." He then looked thoughtful, "Though what is the old saying ... oh yeah, 'It's only kinky the first few times'. I guess that means we need to get started on the kinky stuff."
Diane howled as Faith blushed, gaping to make a comment as he dropped the money on the counter, grabbed the program CD's and waved goodbye to Diane, "Later, Ladies." It wasn't often that he could make Faith blush, so he took every chance he could get when it presented itself.
"Well, the house is still standing," he mumbled as he walked into the residence, creeping as he did, watching for the demonic duo of Adam and Lynda (absently rubbing the back of his head where she had tagged him with a whisk – if swung hard enough, they really could hurt) as he did, until he reached the kitchen, where he saw both Adam and Lynda sipping quietly on some tea. "Is there a cease fire I need to know about?"
Lynda smiled, "No, Alexander, nothing that you need to worry yourself with; that earlier ... display ... was something of a reunion of an old friendship."
"Friendship?"
"Yeah, well, with friends like hers, I don't need enemies." Adam chuckled and then winced as Lynda kicked him beneath the table, "Sorry about the whisk thing, Alex."
"I should have kept my nose out of it, actually, but I have news; I'm heading back to Sunny D in a few weeks."
"As are we; Mister Travers has informed me that our time here in Boston is done – he does, however, wish to meet with you in hopes that he can persuade you to work for him."
"On a hot day in the coldest regions of Hell; I know him and I don't like him, nor do I trust him any further than I can throw the Queen Mary II." He hopped up on the counter and sighed, "What in the hell am I going to do now?"
"First of all, you can get off of my counter," Lynda told him primly, which he obeyed immediately. "Secondly, you can tell us where you'll be staying once you get back to Sunnydale."
"My place near the University, though I must say now that I have been a bit too free with information in the past, so that's all you get from me for now."
Adam struck a wounded pose, "Don't you trust me?"
"Of course not, Adam, but then again," he smiled and turned, "you should not trust me either."
"I trust nobody but myself, Alex; I realize that it's not anything personal..."
"But it's business, I know." He looked over at Lynda, who had a slightly disturbed look on her face, "Do you trust me, Lynda?"
"With Faith's well-being, yes; I have figured out that you would not compromise that for anything.. I do, however, trust you with my own life, just as I hope you trust me with yours."
"I eat your cooking, don't I?" He grinned to take some of the bite out of the comment, but Adam nearly choked on his tea as Lynda kicked him under the table, "I trust you to do what is necessary and right."
"Good, now go back upstairs and check on your computer." He arched his eyebrow at her and she continued, "I heard it saying 'You've Got Mail' several times in the past few minutes."
"Cool. Play nice, kids." Hustling it upstairs, he ignored her glare and Adam's chuckle and then, once reaching his room, he turned off his Lion King screensaver that showed the three Hyenas and pulled up his e-mail. There were four pieces of mail, three of which were junk, but the last one was from Buffy. Steeling himself, he clicked it open and was surprised that it didn't detonate his computer instantly.
Alexander, there are no real words to say just how much your words in the cemetery hurt me, but then again there are some parts to your speech that rang true enough that I have to admit to them – no, I didn't want to deal with Angelus, because I couldn't see him because of my love of Angel. I'm sorry that I let him out and couldn't deal with the consequences, but nothing I can do can change the fact that it happened.
I'm also sorry about Kendra and that Brittany girl (when did you meet her?) but Kendra was a Slayer, so her days were already numbered. Harsh but true. Why didn't you tell us about why she needed to die? I like to think I would have understood.
Why didn't you tell us about any of it at all to being with? We could have helped you? Did you not trust us? Why did you hide your memories of the Hyena? Why?
Sigh I can't say that we'll ever be friends again, like we were ... but I am willing to at least try to rebuild what we had to a degree. Don't expect me to trust you 100% because you burned me once, bad, and if you do it again, it'll be my own damned fault. Maybe, and this is a big maybe, we can get along well enough together to at least not hurl insults at fifty paces.
Now, to the important stuff – do I become prom queen? I mean, you ARE from the future, right? Anyway, what's in fashion? Who is with who? Do we save the world? Do I graduate? Does Dawn finally go away and stop being a pest? TELL ME! BAS.
He couldn't help but smile at the last portion of her e-mail – apparently nothing had really changed as far as timelines went. He was also partially relieved that she had gotten over anything resembling homicidal in nature and had, apparently, thought about extending an olive branch.
First of all, let me say that I'm glad your e-mail didn't detonate my new computer (it was kinda expensive) and I didn't tell you anything because a) it was classified out the yang by my boss, and b)I'm not sure how you would have handled the truth of the fact of what you had done in the previous time line. For future reference I will not tell you or anyone what is to come – what you don't know, you can't tell if tortured or you can't screw up / with.
I kept my Hyena memories from you for a damned good reason – I wanted to forget the incident ever happened, yet seeing what I had done to you it seemed pertinent for me to give you some ammo against me to use at some point in time. I'm not proud of what it did to you or the others while in charge, but those are memories that I will have to deal with eventually – oh, and tell Willow that if she tries any memory mojo on me, I will be VERY cross with her (I know you think that she isn't capable of anything like that, but I've learned to never discount what a little power can do to someone – take me for example).
As for us possibly being friends again, I'm not sure how to go about that – here in Boston I have, or like to think I have, become friends with Kendra's replacement, Faith, and while you and she might or might not get along, let me tell you that she and I are easier friends at worst then you and I were ever at best. She and I ... click ... if that's the term I want to use, but not in an expectant way that I once hoped you and I would be (that ship sailed a while back). Oh, FYI, we won't hurl insults at fifty paces – I prefer to shoot at that distance (and before we get too much further, yes, bullets DO kill vampires, and NO, I am NOT going to stop using them – deal with it).
Now, for your 'important' stuff – well, I'm not telling you anything more than little Dawnie is more of fixture in your life and is not a pest of any kind. I have, however, gotten her something that should keep Mr. Gordo in your room, not hers. Don't think too much about the animal I picked – it's from her favorite movie. ALH.
Hitting the send button, he leaned back in his chair and thought ahead to the near and not-so-near future, wondering what it held even as he smelled Faith entering his room. With a grin, he stood, turned and smiled even as she walked forwards and hugged him – they might or might not get together in the future, but friends needed very little reason to hug.
"So, two weeks?"
"Two weeks, Faith, then you get to meet the rest of the gang ... for better or worse."
AN1: I know the ending is somewhat sappy, but I needed to finish and this was just calling out for some odd reason. Don't worry, I'll try and do better in the neat future. AR.
AN2: Okay, that's it for Setting Things Right Ch. 7, not to mention this series of stories. There will be a sequel to this, but it will be a while off as I need to finish up some of my other WIP's, so now for that poll.
Which WIP should I finish first:
-With The Will And A Word
-Without Mercy Or Remorse
-From Darkness To Light
-The Assassin And The Sorceress
Thanks for your input, AR.