Brothers in Arms

Disclaimer: own nothing you recognize.

Summary: this is a crossover series I came up with during Georgia. It's about three friends who knew each other pre-Sunnydale. And, as always, Xander-centric. He, Willow (Still unsure but, until I'm convinced, I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt), Giles, Tara (thank God she didn't come back as the First, that would have just sucked!), and Faith seem to be the truer heroes of the group in Sunnydale. Angel's group is much better, because they understand the thin line between good and evil, but aren't always sure which side they're on. It's much more understandable, at least to me, than blind self-righteousness. Obviously, I speak of Buffy.

Sorry for the rant. I'm very obsessing about it because I have a friend who is…a duplicate of such an attitude, so to speak. It's part of the reason why I went on the retreat. It rocked, by the way. So, enjoy the story.

$£#

New Orleans, Louisiana:

Xander Harris sat down outside his parent's house in a huff. The six-year-old's birthday had passed by today, and neither had noticed…unsurprisingly. They were too busy being passed out on the floor, both half naked…again, unsurprisingly. He hated it in this place and wanted out, to anywhere, so long as it was away from his family. Of course, there was one thing that would make him want to stay.

"Hey," he heard someone call.

Xander looked up and smiled. That thing was walking down the street: his best friend, Remy LeBeau, also known as 'Gambit' to his streetwise friends. Remy was a prince of thieves, and he meant that literally. He was the adoptive son of the main force of crime in New Orleans, called the Guild of Thieves. That gave him special friends and dangerous enemies, along with many great adventures. When his Uncle Rory had almost been sent to jail because of a false charge, Remy and he had broken into the arresting officer's patrol car and stolen the tape needed, then gave it to his uncle as a way out. It had worked, but only just. He owed his friend for that and had no doubt that he would eventually want to collect. However, he could tell from his friend's demeanor that he had no intention of collecting today. His smile told of something different.

"Hey there, Remy," Xander greeted his friend, "What's goin' on?"

"Big times, bro," Gambit said, "A stuffy British family just moved in and I saw them carting in some kinda weird looking weaponry, like something outta Star Wars. You wanna take a look?"

That struck his curiosity enough. Gambit knew that Xander loved the old movies about sci-fi and space adventures and was obviously not above using it to get what he wanted. He smiled and stood up, shaking off his baggy jeans as he did so.

"Birthday present," he asked.

"You can call it that," he answered with a smile, "Come on, mon ami, let's shake things up a little, eh?"

He sighed and said, "What the enfer?"

$£#

Remy jumped down from the fence on crouched legs, his experience served him well. He knew that this small mansion was probably a squatting hole to these Brits and was naturally inclined to dislike them due to their wealth. He may be from a thief collective, but they weren't entirely well off just yet. And he was a mutant, after all. That didn't exactly earn him an outstanding reputation with the entire Guild. In fact, he knew, for a fact, that a few members of the Guild, along with the brother of his future wife in the Guild of Assassins, were planning his demise. It was sad, from his point of view, to already be married off even when he wasn't eight yet. At least he had his friend, Xander.

He kept in a crouched position and hid in the bushes so as to avoid detection. He heard his friend come down behind him and didn't look back, he knew that Xander would soon be beside him.

"How do you think we should get in," he heard his friend ask.

"The back door's open, or was when I left," Gambit answered, "We'll go in through there. If it's not, we'll use the pipe along the wall right there, climb into the open window."

Xander nodded and the duo silently moved through the bushes, avoiding any sounds they could, and came to the backdoor…which just so happened to be ajar.

"I'll go in first," Remy stated, "Check and see if the coast is clear. If I get caught, you beat it on outta here and spring me out later, just like last time."

He nodded in agreement, remembering the half-night his friend had spent in the prison. It hadn't been easy but, Xander had managed to get him out. Fortunately, the police hadn't taken prints or anything like that to look into his record. They just figured they could scare him straight. Remy was that way sometimes, he could give off a boyish innocence easily. Other times, he was harder than cold steel. That was one feat that the thief couldn't claim, that he had successfully broken into jail and broken someone out.

He nodded once more to make sure Gambit had understood and watched in reservation as the Cajun lad slowly entered the building. He stuck his head in first, then went inside to see if anyone was in the hallway. For a long moment, Xander had been certain that Remy had been caught, then he saw the gloved hand poke a thumb out. 'All Clear,' in other words. He smiled and silently stalked across the open area into the building. Remy waved him inside and shut the door behind him quickly, so as to avoid any kind of creak.

"There's a stairway in the hall," Gambit informed him, "It leads up to some kinda reception hall, like the one in the Guild HQ."

"We'll go in together," Xander stated quickly, "We're in it together from here on out."

Remy nodded in agreement. The two took a long breath to steady their nerves, then began to move up the stairs, each step precise and slow, to avoid any creaks and to reach the top quickly. Random steps could lead to a loud creak, which might draw attention, while precise ones would increase their rate of climb and muscle strain. To just run up stairs would lead to the muscles wearing a little, while moving slowly would allow for maximum efficiency in case of a retreat being needed. They had done this many times and would probably continue to do it many times later on in life.

Once they reached the top of the steps, they slowly came out to examine the room. The first thing they noticed was the sound of a click.

$£#

He had seen them come across the lawn. They were experienced in the art of not being detected, that much was certain. He had, at first, meant to get his father. Then, he had thought to simply do it himself. He was, after all, a spy in training. He had walked up to the reception room, where his father would often meet with his uncle or an associate, and talk business. He knew, for a fact, that there was always a pistol hidden in the desk. He walked behind it and hit the switch that released the spring-loaded shelf, and the revolver popped up, ready for usage. He was, in spite of his young age of eight, certified to handle that sort of weapon. Another lucky part of being the nephew of a secret agent.

As he saw the two blaggards come to the top of the stairs, James Bond pointed the weapon at them and pulled back the hammer.

$£#

Remy and Xander stood stock still as they saw the deadly weapon pointed unwaveringly at them. They both knew what kind of damage a Smith and Wesson could do to them and didn't want to have it happen. So, they both raised their hands above their heads and stared straight at their captor. He had brown hair and brown eyes, not too dissimilar to Xander's, and was staring at them with a look of hard amusement. It was obvious that he found the situation more amusing than serious, and was confident in himself. Something that may or may not be a good thing.

"Well, well," the older boy said in a British accent, "Looks like I've got trespassers. Tell me, what are two ruffians like you doing in my home?"

"We're here to steal some of your guns," Gambit said without pausing for thought.

"Great going, man," Xander muttered.

"How do you know we have weapons in this house," the English boy asked, his hand as steady as ever.

"I saw them in the crates as you moved in," Remy answered.

James smiled at that. They were just like him: bold and inquisitive. Well, he could hardly blame them for that. When he had first met Uncle James, the MI6 agent had let him use his Walther on the shooting range. It was a pivotal moment of his young life, one he'd never forget. What kind of a person would he be if he condemned them for something he himself was guilty of on more than several occasions? He kept his smile on as he put the hammer back and put the pistol away, then returned his gaze to the two lads. Neither were older than him, obviously, but both appeared to be accustomed to the mean side of the streets. He might be able to learn a few things from them.

"I can't blame you for that," he responded, "I used to sneak into the vault and look at all the stuff in there."

"You're not gonna turn us over," Xander asked, bewildered.

"Oh, no," James answered, "You're just curious. Nothing wrong with that."

"Well, nice to know there are some nice people out there today," Remy said with a grin.

The two thieves walked over to the desk as James walked from behind it. As the three met, they came together in a triangle. They stood still for a moment, silently assessing the other. Finally, one of them felt it was a good time for introductions.

"Xander Harris," he greeted the English boy with a grin.

"Remy LeBeau," Gambit echoed his friend, trusting the young boy's sense of judgment.

"James Bond," the Brit responded with a grin of his own.

$£#

It was around six months later when the next big event occurred. Over that time, the trio had become great friends and had gone on many adventures together. James had taught them how to shoot many forms of weaponry, including pistols, rifles, crossbows, and longbows. The two natives of Louisiana had both become proficient, though Xander was equal with James himself, in all four forms of weaponry. Remy had helped the young spy in training with his throwing talents, teaching him how to throw blades, stars, and cards, which was a talent of his. It had come out, on accident, that Gambit was a mutant when he had accidentally caused one of his cards to be filled with the odd energy his body produced, but James proved to be accepting of it. As far as he was concerned, it didn't matter whether you had such abilities. It was the purpose that mattered. His parents called him 'smart beyond his years.' They were right.

Xander had helped teach Bond how to pick locks and sneak into buildings undetected, a skill he had that couldn't be competed with by the Guild member. His true skill was in pick pocketing. Xander, however, was best at locks and evasive tactics. Before long, James had known every single way to evade the police in New Orleans. A useful feature if he ever ended back up in Louisiana. That didn't seem like a great possibility now, though. The English boy's father had gotten James into a special school in Scotland and was leaving this morning. The two had just finished saying their goodbyes and were watching their friend drive away when yet another bomb dropped on them as Tony Harris walked up the sidewalk.

"What's your dad doin' here," Gambit asked, he had no love for his friend's father and wasn't shy about it.

"Don't know," Xander answered honestly, "Hey, Dad."

"Come on, boy," his father roughly said, "We're leaving."

"What," No, he thought, This can't happen. I can't leave Remy the same day James does.

"You heard me, you stupid shit," Tony said with a glare at the Guild member, "We're leaving. You got an hour to pack your shit up, then we're gone. And don't think of runnin' off with your friend here, I've already called his father. Now, get going."

For a long moment, Xander just wanted to take off down the street. He and Remy could hide easily from both the Guild and his father but, in the end, he knew that couldn't happen. They would eventually get caught and his dad would take out his angst on his mother. He wouldn't allow her to suffer for him.

Sighing in resignation, he sent a small smile to his friend and began to walk down the street.

$£#

Sunnydale, Present:

Xander Harris sighed as he walked away from Cordelia, feeling very satisfied as he did so. Last night had been one of the most important nights of his young life, in so many more ways than just his departure into manhood. He had learned that he could handle what the world threw at him, and after everything that the gang had tried to keep him away from, that was a satisfying fact. It was a long time ago that he had never once doubted himself, or his friends. He sighed once more and went to the snack machine, put his money in, and tapped his choice. He heard a whirring in the machine, followed immediately by nothing.

"What," he groaned, "Come on. You can't steal my dollar today."

But, steal his money, it did. He punched the machine once to see if it would be responsive and got nothing for his troubles. Groaning, the young man turned away and walked back out to where his friends sat. He stopped in the doorway and stared at them. They were still discussing last night, that much was obvious. While he did want to inform his friends of what he had done, he knew he would end up seeming petty for doing it. In the end, he was petty, sorta. He didn't want to be and knew that being around them during their post-battle discussion would just be too tempting to pass up.

He decided to get away from the conversation and walked back into the building, through the halls, and into the opposite quad near the stairwell and observation tower. He sighed again and fell onto a bench. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the clouds, lost in thought.

"Well, lookie here," he heard a familiar voice say above him, "Looks like somethin' on your mind."

"Think so," Xander said without looking at the owner of the voice.

"I reckon so, Xander," the voice said.

He looked up to see who the person was and had to stop himself from hitting his head on the seat as he realized why he had recognized the voice.

"Remy," he said with a grin and sat up, "What are you doing here, you old bastard."

His old friend just smiled and shrugged. He was dressed a pair of black jeans and a red shirt, along with a brown leather duster. He could see something deep within it…a deck of cards. Xander smiled and shifted over, inviting his friend to sit down. He was more than happy to oblige.

"What's up, Gambit," he asked the thief, "I never thought I'd see you again after I left."

"It took a long time to track ya down, Xand," Remy stated with a grim smile, "Lotta stuff done happen 'tween then and now."

"Let's hear it," he inquired, "And I've got a few stories to tell you, too."

"I bet," Gambit said, "Well, do you recall how I was betrothed to the princess of the Guild of Assassins?" At Xander's nod, he continued, "Well, I couldn't go through with it. Didn't have the heart to do it. Actually, her brother tried to stop me. Challenged me to a duel."

"Let me see if I can guess the rest," Xander challenged, "You won and left in order to stop a war, right?"

"That's about right," he answered, "I see you ain't changed that much, eh?"

"You'd be surprised. But, I'm sorry, continue."

"Ain't much more to tell. I caught a bunch of busses and made my way to California, looked up the Harris's in the phonebook and found that the most were in Sunnydale. Been looking around addresses for a while till it got through my brain that you were probably in school. I wouldn't know, what with me havin' to drop out."

"Tough luck, Remy," Xander said sympathetically, "Thinking about joining up here?"

"Might as well. Be a good chance to catch up, eh?"

"I think we just did."

"Briefly. So, what about you, Xander? What has gone on in the life of Louisiana's former best escape artist?"

"…" Xander paused before answering, not sure if he really wanted to tell his friend…who was a mutant, stupid to hesitate, he would be a lot of help to them and he knew it, "Well, I guess I should tell you first about what happened after I moved here. See, I came to school and met my best friend in the world, next to you and Jimbo, of course. Her name's Willow and me and her are still friends. She had a friend named Jesse and, well…"

$£#

Buffy Summers groaned as she exited the high school and came to the quad. Giles had noticed that Xander was being unusually quiet and had 'deduced,' as he put it, that he was sore from being left out of the fight. Well, tough! She knew she had done the right thing by keeping him out of the fight. It was too dangerous and he would have been hurt, or killed. He was just the normal guy, after all. He couldn't do anything useful for the group, aside from getting the donuts.

She walked out into the bright sunlight and wondered if things would ever get easier for her. She turned her head slightly and saw one of the most unusual sights of her life: Xander, sitting on a bench, talking with someone who wasn't a Scooby. As far as she knew, he didn't have any friends besides her and Willow. Well, naturally, she just needed to find out what was going on. God forbid she actually gave them some privacy. She began to walk to them.

$£#

"Wow," Remy said, "That's some story there, Xander. You guys did all that? And you stopped a bomb from destroying the school?"

"Yeah," he answered sadly, "So, enough about me. We've heard your story. What do you say, man? I'll show you around town."

"Sounds good to me," Gambit answered with a grin, "Come on, my truck's over here."

"I thought you caught the bus."

"Up till LA. Then, I bought a truck with some money I found…in a man's wallet."

"Come on, you thief."

The two stood up and walked over to the parking lot. Remy went first and beelined over to a Ford Ranger.

"It's open," the thief called.

The two climbed inside and fastened up before Gambit started the ignition and drove out of the parking lot, leaving behind a disgruntled blonde to stare in their wake.

$£#

He smiled as he felt his feet come off the disembarking ramp. It felt good to be back on land again, especially after spending days in the air, literal days that is, training in the HALO jump. He walked forward, realizing that he had held up the line for a moment, and walked away from the ramp and into Sunnydale International. He was going to look up an old friend first, then James Bond, nephew of agent 007, and future spy himself, would get started on his assignment. But, firstly and foremost, he was grabbing himself a snack.

$£#

"And here is Sunnydale International Airport," Xander pointed at the white building to the right of the parked truck, "It's not LAX but, it's got a great chow hall and, considering that we missed lunch, I say we grab a bight to eat."

"Sounds fine to me," Remy stated with a smile, "I haven't eaten nothin' since LA. I'm starved."

Xander had to grin at that. So far, it looked like not much had changed over the last ten years or twelve years, he wasn't too sure how old he had been when he had moved from New Orleans. He kept his grin up and climbed out of the vehicle, then started up towards the airport, Gambit not far behind him.

$£#

James sat at his table and inhaled the aroma of melted cheese as he began to sink into the minimized pizza in front of him. Contrary to what most of his classmates believed, he didn't have the same lavish tastes that his uncle and father did. Growing up with two ruffians as best friends had taught him that sometimes the best things were the cheapest. Still, he hadn't thrived at the academy without learning the British way. His attire, a black suit with black tie, stated that in waves. As did the Walther PPK inside his side holster.

He took up another piece of his lunch and was about to dig in when he noticed something very interesting: two men, both eighteen at most, were walking towards the food stand where he had bought his pizza, laughing and talking like old friends. Unless he was quite mistaken, and the files he had on them both included inaccurate photos, one of those men was Alexander Harris. The other bore a striking similarity to his other friend from Louisiana, Remy 'Gambit' LeBeau. He decided to get their attention and whistled a tune their way, knowing that if it was them, then they'd recognize it. It had once been their signal to move when they were sneaking into places.

They both looked his way.

$£#

"Remy," Xander muttered as he and his friend stared at the older man in a suit, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If you're thinking 'that limey bastard over there looks like Jimbo,' you'd be right," Gambit answered with a grin.

The two deviated from their original path and quickly came through the throngs of the crowd to the table where the suit had signaled them. He had familiar looking brown hair and brown eyes and was smiling. He stood as they reached within five feet of him, the smile never leaving his face.

"…Who are you," Remy asked first.

"Bond," he answered, "James Bond."

$£#

Buffy had been following the truck since it had left the school. It hadn't been difficult, not when you live in as small a town as Sunnydale. Xander ordinarily cut class in the library, not off with someone she'd never seen before. It was unlike him to go off with a total stranger like that. She felt certain that something was going on and she was adamant in her effort to find out. She had expected, of course, to have to rescue him from some sort of demonic sacrifice or to save him from some kind of major ass beating. What she found was far beyond her expectations.

She found her friend, Xander Harris, the Zeppo, as Cordelia had called him yesterday, sitting at one of the airport's many tables with the same man from earlier and a man with brown hair and eyes in a suit. They were all three chowing down on a plate of steaming pizza, talking and laughing about something she couldn't hear over the throng inside the room.

This was all becoming too much for the blonde Slayer. Xander was supposed to be the donut guy, the loser of the group. He was supposed to be their friend, not someone else's too. No, she decided, something must be wrong. This was just too…un-Xander. She just knew that something was wrong with her friend and she was determined to help him. It was better than to feel like she had somehow forced him out of their lives, especially when it was the more likely possibility when compared to something being wrong with him.

Sighing, she turned away and walked out the airport, vowing to fix things back the way they were.