Disclaimer: All things Buffy belong to Joss and his Creepy Legal Minions. The rest is mine, dammit!

Setting: Between Seasons Four and Five.

Notes: This story is a sort-of sequel to another of mine, A Simple Life, also on this archive - but you don't need to read it to get this one. Any derivations from the canonical 'way things work' are mine; let's pretend they're innovative and exciting! Where would I be without Erica's wonderful beta-ing? Nowhere good, I assure you.

Feedback:cushion@home.com Thanks!

*****

"I told you you'd get hurt if you came along."

Xander rolled gingerly onto his back, bruised and shaken by his fall. "Yeah, well, you always say that."

Buffy sighed. "And I'm always right." She extended her hand to him. "C'mon, let's go."

Xander curled his right hand, cut deeply across the palm by the glass of the window he had just been tossed through, and rolled over onto his side. "I've got it," he replied, hiding his hand from Buffy as he struggled awkwardly to his feet. "No problemo. Shouldn't you be checking on Willow?"

"She went around the other side with Riley, to finish off the last one. At least, I hope it was the last one; it's almost dawn." Buffy wiped her bloody knife off on a tuft of grass that had pushed its way up through the asphalt, and slid it into her waistband. From the far side of the warehouse came a piercing, inhuman screech, then silence. The Slayer smiled and headed off in the direction of the sound, leaving Xander to shuffle along in her wake. The Callon demon had tossed him against the wall before it had sent him flying through the plate glass window, and Xander could feel parts of his body rubbing together in an unsettling fashion. Not to mention the hand; he pressed it tightly to his side and tried not to wince.

Willow and Riley appeared from the far side of the building. "That was neat!" Willow called out to Buffy and Xander. "The demon seemed really big and tough, but I could paralyze it with a spell, and when Riley poked it with the silver knife, it popped just like a balloon! Can we do that again?"

Buffy grinned at her excited friend. "We'll probably have to, Will. Giles hasn't figured out yet why all these Callons are gathering here, and until he does, we'll just have to keep on pest control." She muffled a yawn, and leaned her head against Riley's chest as he pulled her close. "Enough for now, though, guys. Meet at Giles' tomorrow night?" The other three nodded, and the four split into two groups - Buffy, Riley and Willow heading back towards campus, and Xander in the opposite direction towards home.

He had not gone far when he heard feet coming up quickly behind him. He spun around on one heel, nearly falling over backwards, but was supported by the strong hands of Buffy on his shoulders. Her grip made him realize again how sore his right side was, and he pulled quickly out of her hands, stifling a gasp. He could hear Buffy sigh as he tried to rearrange his face into a smile.

"What's up, Buff? Decide you'd rather spend the night at Chez Xander? The girlfriend's away, you know." He attempted an exaggerated wink.

"Maybe you should take a couple of nights off," she replied. "You took a pretty bad fall out of that window, and there's only going to be more Callons tomorrow. Where's Anya; maybe you can go visit her for a few days?"

Xander turned away and continued walking. "She said something about finding herself. I didn't know she was missing, but there you go. Women, right? Anyway, I'm fine, and if there are more demons, you need more demon-fighters. Count me in."

Buffy fell into place beside him. "I really think we can handle it with just three, Xander. We have it worked out pretty well: Willow freezes 'em, and Riley and I pop 'em. A fourth person just..."

"Gets in the way?" he finished for her. She stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Throws off the rhythm," she said softly. "That's all. And you deserve a break, anyway. Riley and I are trained for this sort of thing, and Willow has her magic - you have a lot less to work with than we do, and you get hurt more. For these Callons, it might be better for you to not be out on the street with us. Maybe you could give Giles a hand," she offered brightly. "That would be a real help."

She watched Xander's face carefully, until he was forced to give her a small smile.

"Sure, sounds good to me. And you know how I love those books." Buffy patted Xander carefully on the shoulder.

"Atta boy. Go home and have a good rest, and I'll see you at Giles' tomorrow. Don't forget your highlighter!" she called over her shoulder as she ran off to rejoin the other two.

Xander resumed his walk home, feeling surprisingly awake for the time of day. In the trees, birds began to twitter quietly, and he could see the sky start to pinken along the far horizon. "Lucky I got fired," he said to himself, his injured hand folded against his chest. "More free time to fight evil. Or to research evil. Or to sleep in after having my butt thoroughly kicked by evil." He sighed. The last job actually hadn't been so bad - bagboy at the local Qik-Mart. Sure, it had been tedious, but it bought the soda and paid the bills. Unfortunately, one too many late nights working with Buffy and the others had led to what could only be described as an Incident, a mis-bagging of serious proportions, and once again he had been kicked to the curb.

"Maybe I should run away from home and join the circus," he said aloud as he cut into the alley behind his house. "A nice, quiet flea circus, with no heavy lifting," he added, carefully pressing on his ribs with his good hand. Sore, but not creaky - a good sign. Something was locking in his knee; he shifted onto one foot and shook the other leg gently, trying to realign whatever had been whacked out of place.

"Rough night?" a familiar voice said out of the darkness by the back steps. Xander's supporting knee gave way, and he sat down hard on the damp grass, flopping over on his back. The stars were fading in the brightening dawn, and the woman belonging to the voice stepped from her hiding place and squatted down beside him. She pushed her loose black hair behind her ear, then set her chin in her hand and smiled at him. "Good morning, Xander. You've looked better."

"And, amazingly, I've looked worse."

Xander blinked at the woman, who regarded him calmly, one eyebrow arched. Caitlin Grey had appeared in Sunnydale a few months before; an old friend of Giles, she had been sent by the Council to 'remove' Buffy, the renegade Slayer. She was a witch of some type; Giles had never fully explained, though he clearly had a complex history with Cait, but she was powerful, and fortunately had turned out to be an ally, not an enemy. To the best of his knowledge, nobody had seen her since the Council problem was solved. Cait extended her left hand to Xander, and hauled him easily to his feet. She was nearly his height, with inquisitive grey eyes set high over strong cheekbones.

"Need help with that?" she asked, nodding at his other hand. Xander held it protectively to his side.

"No thanks, it's fine. Mind if we take this conversation inside?"

The last thing he wanted was his mother, occasionally an early riser, to come out of the house and start asking questions. Cait followed him through the outside door into the basement.

"If it's fine," she asked, perching on the edge of the dryer, "Why are you bloody from wrist to elbow?"

Xander looked down at his sleeve, which was indeed sodden with blood. He opened his palm and quickly looked away, sitting down on the bed before he fell over.

"It looked better in the parking lot." The pain was crawling up his arm like a swarm of wasps under his skin. Cait slipped off the dryer and joined him on the bed. Pulling his right arm into her lap, she pushed back the sleeve and turned it palm up.

"May I?" she asked.

Xander nodded, not knowing what would happen, but figuring it had to be better than the pain he was feeling. At that, his hand went numb, and the pain disappeared. Cait carefully unfolded his fingers and placed her hand over his, covering the bloody cut with her palm. They sat like that, an awkward couple, then she took her hand away. His palm was still bloody, but the slash was gone; he rubbed his left thumb wonderingly over the intact skin.

"Thanks," he said, flexing his fingers. "Much better than the emergency room. There, you sit for hours and they don't even give you a lollypop."

Cait grinned, and Xander crossed the room to the clean laundry basket, similar to the dirty laundry basket in every way. "I guess I owe you a favor, right?" He shrugged off his bloody shirt and, deciding it was beyond repair, wiped his hand on it and tossed it into the trash. "What kinds of favors do all-powerful scary witches who appear out of the darkness ask for?" he wondered aloud as he tugged on another shirt.

"In this case, nothing you can't deliver," she said lightly.

Xander turned to see Cait curled up on his bed, her head on his pillow and her eyes half-closed. Slowly, she lifted her lids, biting her lower lip seductively. Xander could feel the blood rush to his face and he took a step back, smacking against the washing machine with a hollow boom.

"Uh, you know, my girlfriend's a demon; well, an ex-demon...she's not here right now, but if she were...not that I'm not flattered or anything, but..." He sputtered to a halt, and then burst out with one more protest: "I mean, you dated Giles! That's just...wrong...." Xander trailed to a stop as Cait began to laugh.

"You're fun," she said, sitting up and leaning forward. "And that's not what I meant. Nice to know the idea horrifies you, though," she teased. Xander gave her a shaky grin and approached the bed tentatively, sitting on the edge.

"Then, what do you want?"

Cait leaned forward conspiratorially. "Your blood," she stage-whispered, and Xander twitched back. She laughed again and patted Xander's arm. "It's okay, not all of it. Just a cup or so. Not much more than you lost tonight," she added. Xander relaxed, lying back on the bed and closing his eyes. He could feel his body vibrating gently with exhaustion; suddenly, he didn't care what happened, as long as he could go to sleep as soon as possible.

"Are you going to use a needle, or just suck it out of me with a straw? Either way is fine, enjoy yourself. Just try not to ruin this shirt too; they don't grow on trees."

He could feel the mattress move as Cait got off the bed. "The blood can stay just where it is until I need it. Can you go to L.A. with me tomorrow? I'll have you back in a day or two, in one piece, I promise." Xander nodded, enjoying the rubbery feeling of his neck as he did so. "Then I'll pick you up here tomorrow night. Tonight, actually." Xander was still nodding, imagining that he was bouncing on a giant crème-filled Twinkie, when he heard the outside door open and close again.

"Mmm...goin' to L.A., gonna give blood," he murmured, rolling onto his stomach. "Gonna help Cait. Why my blood?" He tried to focus on this new question, but it kept slipping away, and he finally let it go, spiraling into sleep and dreams of squat, scaly Callon demons, exploding into big, bloody fountains as Cait scurried around with a sponge trying to soak it all up.

*****

The sun was dipping below the horizon as Xander entered the courtyard of Giles' apartment building. He had slept deeply all day, waking up with his face stuck to the pillow by dried drool, and felt quite refreshed and lively. He hurried to Giles' door, eager to let the rest of the gang know about his encounter with Cait and pending trip to L.A. The door popped open as he reached it, to reveal a very impatient Giles.

"Where have you been?"

Xander frowned. "Fine, thanks for asking. Mind if I come in?" He slipped past the older man and entered the apartment. Boxes were stacked everywhere, written all over with strange characters and stuck closed with some type of heavy black tape. A few were open, and revealed old books and pamphlets in all states of disrepair - waterstained, torn, even singed around the edges.

"Miss the library so much you decided to start your own?" Xander asked, poking through one of the opened boxes. "You know, most people go for the bright, shiny new books; think best-seller list."

Giles shut the door firmly and peered over his glasses at Xander.

"This is a shipment of extremely rare and valuable materials from the estate of...oh, never mind. Somewhere in here should be a book that I think will reveal the source of our current Callon trouble. You get started with these open ones," Giles said, squeezing through the stacked boxes, "and I'll begin with some of these." He disappeared behind a pillar of boxes, which wobbled alarmingly, but did not fall.

Xander looked at the pamphlet he held in his hand: "Daemons of Elder and Parallel Worlds" was printed on the cover in a spidery font. The paper smelled distinctly of mold. Xander dropped it back in the box and wiped his hand on his jeans.

"I don't hear you working," prompted a voice from behind the boxes.

"Actually, I was planning to go out of town for a couple of days, to L.A." Xander started moving towards the voice. He was cut off by a 'hmph' from behind a particularly grungy parcel, and Giles leaned into view.

"We have a rather urgent situation here, you know. Buffy and the others are wasting all their time dealing with the Callons; meanwhile, who knows what's happening with the vampire population? You can go away as soon as we get this taken care of, but right now," Giles squinted closely at the ratty book he held in his hand, "I require your help. Hmmm...." He disappeared again.

"And you know I'd love to play Dewey Decimal with this dead guy's books," Xander replied, "but it's actually kind of important. Last night ..." Giles cut him off again, surging up from behind the books like Neptune rising form the sea.

"What could you possibly have to do that is more important that what we need to do here? Honestly, Xander, no wonder you can't keep a job for more than a few weeks. No sense of commitment." Giles removed his glasses and rubbed them against his shirt, only making them dustier. "So, what's so important about L.A.? Come on, then; impress me." He replaced his glasses and removed them again almost immediately.

Xander wished desperately that Cait had explained what she needed him to do in L.A. "It's...well, it's about...you know, it's none of your business," he said angrily. "I can go to L.A. anytime I want to, and I'm going. It's not like you pay me to be on call here." He turned his back on Giles and cut through the boxes towards the door.

"Xander!"

He ignored Giles' shout, yanking the door open to see a startled Buffy standing outside.

"I'll be back in a few days," he muttered to Buffy, pushing past her and rushing out of the courtyard, leaving confusion in his wake.

*****

Xander was waiting outside his house, settled uncomfortably on a small gym bag of clothes, when he heard the mutter of an engine coming down the street. A battered black Mustang pulled into view, and he walked to meet it halfway down the block. Cait leaned over and popped the door open for him and he slipped inside, tossing the bag in back. The car roared away from the curb before Xander could get the door closed; he struggled with it for a moment before he banged it shut, and then looked around the car. Cigarette burns marred the upholstery, and the floor was littered with the remains of fast food, a few beer cans, and some things Xander could not immediately identify. A knife was tucked in next to the driver's seat.

"Nice car," Xander said cautiously. "It's you." Cait cast a glance at him and fiddled with the radio, flipping through a few stations before turning it off in disgust.

"It's not mine," she replied. Xander looked nervously in the side mirror, checking for flashing lights. Cait grinned. "I borrowed it from a friend; calm down. We'll be there in a couple of hours, so get comfy." She accelerated as Xander belted himself into the seat and settled in. Sunnydale sped past his window, and soon they were on the highway.

"So, what are we doing in L.A.?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.

"We'll meet a friend of mine who has a sword I need to destroy. That's why I need your blood, for the destruction ritual." She changed lanes causally, without looking behind her; Xander heard furious honking and gripped the seat belt in his hands.

"Why me? I hope you weren't looking for a virgin, though I could see why you'd need to leave L.A. to do that." Cait looked seriously at him for a long moment, a bit too long for his comfort, and he returned his gaze to the road. "That was a joke. The virgin thing, I mean...not that I'm a virgin or anything. Not that there's anything wrong with being a virgin." Suddenly aware of the number of times he had said 'virgin' to this relative stranger, he fell silent.

Cait did not respond right away, and Xander begin to wonder if she had forgotten his question. He opened his mouth, and closed it, feeling he might accidentally say 'virgin' again if he wasn't careful. Before he could figure out what to say, Cait spoke.

"You're an enchanter."

"That's very flattering," he answered quickly, "but you can tell me the real reason."

Cait smiled. "Enchanter. You have the ability to bind magic into items."

He blinked at her, trying to parse what she had just said. You. Ability. Magic. He rearranged it a few times, and it still made no sense.

"I didn't think you knew," she said.

"Sure I knew," he said. "I've known for years. I just decided not to tell anyone, so they wouldn't be jealous." He shook his head. "Whoever told you I can do magic is wrong; I couldn't magic my way out of a paper bag. I can barely do it if I read all the directions that Willow gives me, and even then it makes my head hurt. Sorry to waste your time. If you pull over up there, I can take a bus back, no need to trouble yourself." He reached into the back seat and patted awkwardly around for his bag.

"Nobody told me; I knew it when I met you, and I don't make mistakes," Cait said, accelerating to pass a tractor-trailer. Xander flopped back into his seat.

"Then why didn't you say something?" he asked, confused by the sharp turn his life seemed to have taken while he wasn't looking. "Is it because I'm not very good at it? I'm not kidding about the headaches, you know. This is great: 'Xander, you can do magic - poorly.'" He closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat, idly running his fingers over a jagged cut in the leather.

"Magic is a funny thing, and it doesn't work the same way for everyone. Most people could do some kind of magic, if they had the right spells and ingredients. You don't really have to have any inherent talent to do that. Ripper is like that; he's good at it, but without a book, he's helpless."

She paused; Xander watched as a strange smile played across her lips. She caught his look and continued her explanation.

"Other people have a talent for magic; they're better at it, and can make up their own spells. But not all magic is accessible, even to these people. Certain fields, like enchantment, are available only to those gifted in them. These people are very rare; right now there are..." she thought for a moment, "six active enchanters in this country, that I know of. There are probably a few more like you, people who don't know about their own ability. But not many. Enchanters are among the rarest of the gifted mages. They..."

Xander cut her off excitedly.

"So, wait, let me get this straight. I can do magic. I can do really rare magic..." His heart was pounding; he could feel his pulse thump in his head. Finally, he could do something more than just read a book, or beat unsuccessfully on a vamp until Buffy came to the rescue. It had to be useful; at the very least, it had to be profitable; rare things were always worth money. No more part-time jobs, no more, 'Xander, could you get us a pizza?' - now he'd be right in the thick of things! He leaned towards Cait. "Why didn't you tell me!?" he said indignantly.

Cait shrugged. "It wasn't my place. Besides, you seemed to be needed where you were." She reached through the steering wheel and tapped on the gas gauge, hitting it harder until it gave a reading she was satisfied with.

"They don't need a boring old Xander, they need a cool, new, enchanter-Xander! I've wasted months reading books when I could be doing magic. It is useful, enchanting is, right? Never mind; I'll take it!" He paused. "What about the headaches? Is there some sort of magical aspirin for that?"

"Most gifted mages are locked into their own disciplines, and can't do magic outside of them. Once you start using your gift, you won't be able to do other magics, but enchanting shouldn't give you a headache. As far as useful, it certainly is. You can bind almost any spell onto any item; rings that heal the wearer, clothes that are impervious to magic." She laughed. "Pens that write on air, if you like. I can put you in contact with an enchanter who can train you. I know a woman in Chicago who I think would be happy to take you on."

Xander thought for a moment.

"So, this would be what, a few weeks in Chicago, just to get the basics? I bet I can get Willow to help me out back here. Sounds great; when can I start?"

Cait glanced at him. "It's more than a few weeks, I'm afraid. Enchanting is a field that requires a lot of work - most people apprentice for about four years before they go out on their own. And nobody but an enchanter can teach you; there aren't any guidebooks for it. You'd have to go to Chicago for your training, and stay there until you were done." Xander's shoulders sagged, and Cait continued quickly. "You could visit, though. And once your training was complete, you could come back, if you wanted. The Slayer probably won't live that long, but the others might."

"Four years," Xander said quietly. Maybe more, given how poor a student he tended to be. Four years away from Sunnydale, from all his friends, from all he knew...but such a payoff! And they didn't really need him, anyway, not as much as they could use an enchanter. Besides, it would be something that was his, something he could do forever, not just to help the others. As for Buffy....he set that thought aside.

Rain began to patter down on the windshield, and Cait flicked the wipers on. Xander slid down in his seat until he could only see a strip of dark sky above the dashboard. Light from passing signs fractured in the streaks of rain on the glass, and Xander followed the wipers idly as he thought. Enchanter. Xander Harris, Enchanter. "What if I'm no good at it?" he said to himself, not expecting an answer.

"You will be," Cait replied. "It's in your blood." He looked at his hand, running his thumb across where the slash from last night's fight should have been. Hands that could do magic, that would be successful at it. At something that Willow, that even Giles, with all his books, couldn't do. He folded his hands across his chest and tipped his head back against the seat, his eyes sliding shut as he listened to the rain.

*****

Xander woke up with a start. The car was still, and Cait was not in her seat. He eased himself upright, rubbing at the crick in his neck. The car was parked at the end of a dirty alleyway, outside of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. "Why does all this kind of stuff take place in abandoned warehouses?" he asked himself as he climbed out of the Mustang. "Don't people store things anymore?"

Cait slid off her perch on the trunk of the car. "You snore, you know that?"

"Only when I'm folded up like a pretzel," he replied. "Now what? Let me guess; we're meeting someone at the warehouse."

She nodded and set off around the building, Xander following. She slipped behind a large piece of corrugated tin leaning against the side of the warehouse and disappeared. Xander poked his head around the tin, and could barely make out an opening in the wall, which he pushed through. They were in a large room, filled with the battered bodies of old trucks and lit by streetlight coming through dirty windows. Cait wove her way through the graveyard until she came to a more open space.

"Jace?" She called softly into the dim light. Xander heard a rustle from above, and stepped back as a man jumped smoothly down from the top of one of the rusted vehicles. He stood taller and broader than Xander, who he regarded with some suspicion. The man wore a black motorcycle jacket over a black t-shirt and jeans; his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. Xander took a surreptitious step back.

"You're late, Cat. How's my car?" The man leaned the long bundle he was carrying against the truck and removed his sunglasses, sticking them roughly in a pocket. Blue eyes regarded the witch. "Did you get pulled over? I hope you didn't let them search the trunk; I can't remember what's in it."

Cait laughed. "Relax, Jace; when have police ever given me a problem? Everything went fine. This is Xander." Jace held out one large hand and shook Xander's firmly; Xander kept a smile on his face and tried not to wince.

"Good to meet you. Now I can get this damn thing off my back." Jace kicked at the bundle, which slid to the ground towards Cait. To Xander's surprise, she jumped quickly away from it; Xander took a prudent step away as well.

"Watch that," she snapped. "I don't want it anywhere near me."

Jace leaned down the pick up the bundle. "Sorry, Cat. Now you know how I've felt all week, though." He tucked it under one arm and looked at Cait. "Are we doing this here?"

Cait nodded. "The site's secure. Let's get a little more light." She slipped into the shadows in search of a switch, leaving the two men alone.

"So, what's up with that?" Xander asked, nodding towards the bundle. "I thought it was just a sword. Does it bite?"

Jace grimaced. "Pretty much. Whoever uses it, hell, whoever touches it, gets filled with a sort of bloodlust. They'll kill until there's nothing left standing; the sword makes them pretty good at it, too. Which wouldn't be a problem," Jace continued as fluorescent lights flared to life on the high ceiling, "except you can't control it at all - it controls you. The more you use it, the more humanity it sucks out of you, until you're completely psychotic."

Xander followed Jace into a better lit area, and watched as he laid the bundle down on the ground. "Who would make something like that?" he asked wonderingly. Jace shrugged.

"Beats me; people do all kinds of fucked up things." He grabbed one edge of the heavy cloth wrapping and tugged, unrolling the bundle onto the floor. A long, slender sword appeared, beautifully worked and shining in the light. It rang out musically against the floor, and both men stood admiring it.

Jace sighed. "Amazing craftsmanship. I had one like this a while ago, not enchanted of course; I took it off of a Kerklion assassin. Lost it when my plane crashed into the Aegean, though." He leaned forward a bit, then jerked back. "Cat, dammit, hurry up. I can't not touch this thing for much longer."

"Right here," she replied, emerging from behind them. She stood next to Jace and looked down at the sword for a moment before he took her arm firmly and pulled her a few steps away."Under no circumstances," he said to Xander, "allow Cat to get within grabbing distance of this thing. Part of the enchantment draws people to touch it; if she gets a hold of it, we both die, and that'll only be the beginning. Pick it up and keep it away from her."

Xander started. "Pick it up? Me? I'm too young to be psychotic. Think of all the promise I have." He took a few steps back from the sword, but was stopped by Cait's outstretched hand.

"It's okay, Xander; I didn't bring you here to sacrifice you. You can resist the enchantment. Hold the sword while Jace reads the spell, and do exactly what he tells you to do."

The sword shone softly, almost beckoningly, at Xander. "You sure about this? I mean, enchanter I may be, but trained I am not." Cait nodded, and Xander took a deep breath. "Okay then, here goes nothing."

Quickly, he stepped forward and lifted the sword off the ground. His head spun and he staggered, feeling power surge through him. Words whispered in his head; dark, bloody words, and he struggled to push the thoughts of mayhem away. He had a vision of the sword slicing into Jace's chest, and smiled with the wicked pleasure of it before he could clear it from his mind. After a minute, he came back to himself; Jace and Cait were watching anxiously.

"S'okay, no problem. Xander's on the job," he said stiffly. "No need to kill me to save me. Though we might want to get working on this," he added.

Jace sprung to life, tugging a piece of parchment out of one pocket and spreading it on the ground. He held it down with one knee and pulled a feather and a lighter out of another pocket.

"Okay kid, here's the drill. I read from this thing," he tapped the parchment with the lighter, "and when I point at you, slide your hand along the blade of the sword. You need to get some blood on the blade; I'm not sure how much it'll take, but don't worry about it. We won't let you die." He grinned at Xander, who couldn't quite return it. "Ready?"

His mouth had gone quite dry. "Ready," he croaked. Jace began to read, burning the feather as he did so. Xander did not recognize the language. What kind of language do people enchant in, he thought. I only know French. He could feel the sword twist in his grasp, as if trying to escape the spell, but he held it firmly. The room darkened as Jace read on; the two disappeared in the shadows. The blade of the sword shone with a sickly green light, and Xander moved it a bit to try and illuminate Jace.

When the light fell on Jace, Xander realized that he was pointing. Quickly, not knowing for how long the other man had been signaling him, Xander grabbed at the blade with one hand. He felt a sharp pain as he caught it across the base of his fingers, and hot blood began to flow down his hand, only to be absorbed immediately by the sword. Jace's reading grew louder, but was suddenly blocked by a loud keening in Xander's head. The young man bit hard on his lip, closing his eyes and trying not to collapse with the pain of the sound.

Then, suddenly, there was silence. Xander cautiously opened his eyes to find he was holding nothing. Anxiously, he looked around him. The light had returned to the room, and Cait was standing a few feet away, smiling. Jace wrinkled his nose as he sniffed at his hands. "Feather stinks," he said disgustedly, wiping them harshly on his jeans as he got to his feet. "Good work, kid. Not your first spell, I'm guessing."

"I'm not a kid," Xander responded, looking at the blood trails on his left hand. Enchanter's blood. Strangely, it looked no different than the blood he had spilled the night before.

"Okay, then," Jace laughed. "C'mon; I need a beer. Cat?"

The woman held her hand out towards Xander. "Let me fix that," she said.

Xander shook his head. "No, thanks. I think I need to keep this one." He looked up at her. "I could do with a bandage, though. And maybe a pizza."

"I've got a first aid kit in the car," Jace said.

Cait looked at him oddly. "Since when?" she asked curiously.

The tall man grinned. "Since the last time I got in a fight and didn't have you around to patch me up, babe. I don't just hibernate when you're not with me." He reached out and caught Cait by the hand, pulling her close to him and murmuring something in her ear. She laughed and poked him in the stomach, then beckoned to Xander. He followed the couple out towards the car.

*****

The bar was loud and raucous, and contained everything that makes a bar a bad place to be. Women of dubious moral character lined the walls, while large, drunk men quarreled for their favors. The pool table in the back seemed to be the site of a duel of pride between two hulking bikers; it could only end badly for one of them, and probably for anyone else within reach. At a table to the side, Xander devoured his tenth chicken wing, oblivious to the chaos around him. He held it delicately in his right hand, to keep the spicy sauce off of the bandage wrapped around his left.

"Good?" Cait asked, as she finished her beer. She sat with her back to the wall, Jace beside her, his arm thrown over the back of her chair.

"Mmmsty..." he replied, licking sauce off his fingers. "Did I eat them all? Sorry."

She smiled. "I'll get more; I need another drink anyway. Jace?" He nodded, and Cait pushed herself to her feet and started through the crowd.

"Thanks! And if they have any potato skins, I wouldn't mind some variety," he called to her as she disappeared behind a sudden rush of people. "She's a good one, that Cait," he said, patting his stomach gently with a careful hand.

"Yeah, she is," Jace replied, eyeing a nearby couple engaged in a particularly loud argument. "And then some."

Xander poked idly at the chicken bones strewn in the basket before him. "So, this magic thing," he began, then lowered his voice. "Can we talk about that here?"

Jace grinned. "One of the best places to do it. Most of the people in here are too screwed up to remember their own names, let alone understand a conversation about magic. Why, what do you need?"

Xander shrugged. "Nothing really. How long have you been, you know...doing it?"

"For a while, I guess. I'm not really in it for the magic, though I'm pretty good with spells. I'm more of a freelancer. You know - travel around, carry some packages." He smiled wickedly. "Kick some ass. Whatever they pay me for."

"Then you're not really a - what's the right word for a boy witch?"

"Depends who you ask. Most go by mage, and no, I'm not one. I got into this through Cat. She met me in a bar...a lot like this one, actually," he added, looking around. The fighting couple had begun to noisily make up, much to the dismay of a woman standing nearby. She threw her glass at the back of the man's head, and the three of them pushed, brawling, through the crowd and away from the table. "I knocked down some guy who was giving her a hard time - not knowing that she's more than capable of taking care of herself - but she appreciated the intent. We hit it off, got together." Jace smiled to himself. "Next thing you know, I'm in a back alley with a sword, splitting some demon in half and trying to remember all the words to the spell that'll get me the hell out of there. Crazy, huh?"

"Tell me about it. I get a crush on the new blonde girl in school, and suddenly I'm fighting vampires. Women."

Jace clinked his beer bottle against Xander's glass, and they both drank. Cait appeared through the crowd, deposited a basket of skins and wings along with two beers on the table, and then slipped back into the throng.

Stuffing a skin into his mouth, Xander considered his next question. "The magic's not a big deal to you, then?"

Jace finished his beer and twisted the top off the next. "I can take it or leave it. It's kinda useful, but I'm really a fighter, the magic's just a tool. I'm nothing like you." He looked appraisingly at Xander. "Man, to have a real talent; I envy you. Anybody can do what I do. You're special. When do you start training?"

Xander contemplated a wing. "Dunno. It's a big step. I've got some obligations at home, you know. Nothing I can't get out of. Nothing that anybody couldn't do." He picked up the wing, then replaced it gently on top of the pile.

Jace snorted. "Then get going, man! Think of the power! And the money. And the women," he added. "Women dig power and money."

"What are we talking about?" Cait slipped back into her seat.

"That you only love me for my money," Jace said, winking at Xander.

"I need to make a phone call," Xander said, getting to his feet. "Think I can do it without getting killed?" he asked, looking at the phones that lined the wall by the pool table.

"We'll keep an eye on you," Cait answered. "Never fear."

Xander pushed through the crowd, feeling that to say excuse me would only admit weakness, and arrived at the phones without incident. One was broken, and another had a suspicious grey substance smeared over the receiver; he chose the third one down and rummaged through his pocket for a business card. Carefully, he dialed the number.

"Angel Investigations; we help the hopeless!"

"Yeah, can I speak to Cordelia Chase, world-famous actress slumming as a receptionist?"

"Just a min...Xander? Xander Harris, world-famous loser? I'm sorry, but we specialize in hopeless cases, not lost causes."

He smiled into the phone. "Good to hear you haven't changed, Cordy. How's tricks?"

"Fine, as usual," she replied, a bit more gently. "Busy, though. The only reason I'm here this late is that we're working on a case. Otherwise I'd be out on the town, seeing and being seen. You know how it is - oh, wait, no you don't" She laughed, and a warmth spread through him. "Why are you calling?"

"No reason; just thought I'd say hi. So, what are you working on?" He tucked in a little closer to the phone; the pool players had finished their game, and were busily accusing each other of cheating and other dishonorable acts.

"Oh, a lot of things. I auditioned for a commercial the other day, and if I do say so myself I totally blew them away. Not only that, but I met a woman at a party who gave me a card for her friend's brother's agent, so I have to call him...and then there's work. Ghoulies and goblins and demons, oh my. You know the drill. You?"

"Same old thing," he replied. "'Xander, look up this reference.' 'Xander, get out of the way.' 'Xander, that's not funny the second time around.' I'm thinking of getting out of Sunnydale for a while. I'm getting tired of being the only stooge in the Superfriends crowd." He glared at a guy who was poking around in the change slot of the next phone, causing him to scurry away; that gave Xander a dim satisfaction.

"Oh, stop whining. What, you want lightning to shoot from your fingers? I'd rather be me than them any day. I do this stuff because I want to, and because I can; they're stuck with it. I mean, look at them: Giles is absolutely ancient, and what does he have to show for his life? He's unemployed and hangs out with college kids. Then there's Buffy, tortured maiden of doom; she'll be lucky to make it to twenty-five. As for my guys, Wesley's totally screwed up, and let's not even get into Angel." Xander could see Cordy rolling her eyes with that statement.

"Honestly, Xander, if you want to quit, quit, but don't blame them. Life's what you make it. I mean, look at me," she continued. "I could be a pathetic little actress wanna-be in a dead-end receptionist job, dreaming about the future but not living the present. Instead, I'm a valuable partner in a small but vital concern - I'm practically a small-business owner! And everything I do here, I can use in my acting. Especially if I ever audition for a horror role," she added smartly, and he had to smile.

"I guess," he answered slowly. "But don't you ever get tired of not being...I don't know...special?" The snort on the other end of the phone answered his question fully, and he flinched away from a bottle as it struck the wall beside his head.

"What was that?" she asked. "Are you being shot at?"

"Not exactly. Gotta go, though," he said, looking at the full-blown brawl that had developed on, under, and around the pool table. "I'll catch you later. And, Cordy...thanks."

"For what?" she asked, but he hastily hung up the receiver and dove towards Jace, who was wading through the fight with what could only be described as a devilish grin on his face.

*****

Returning to Sunnydale after three raucous nights in L.A. was like going back to the farm after a year in gay Paree. Xander was exhausted by the time he made it home, smelling of cigarette smoke and beer, and feeling like he'd met half of the magical community in the city. Though he had been involved in slaying and magic for over four years, he felt like a novice when surrounded by the dizzying secret world L.A. presented to him. After a while he had stopped thinking entirely, and just watched it all go by like a surreal home movie. His basement seemed eerily quiet as he showered and changed, and he pulled the door closed carefully as he headed out.

He only needed to tap once on Giles' door before Buffy opened it. "Hey there, Xander. Long time no see." She smiled awkwardly at him and stepped aside so that he could enter the room. Willow turned to look over the back of the couch at him, and Giles paused mid-sip, setting his mug back down on the desk. Three pairs of eyes watched Xander, and he raised his eyebrows at them.

"What, is there something on my face? C'mon guys, it hasn't been that long, has it? Forgot who I am already; I'm disappointed in you." His tone was light, and Willow's quick smile lit up her face.

"You were gone for a while; we were just worried, that's all," she said. "Giles said you left in a huff, and we thought maybe something bad had happened. You're usually not huffy," she pointed out gently. "Huffless Xander, usually. Is everything okay?"

"All's fine, Will. I just took a few days off, that's all. It was Buffy's idea," he nodded towards the Slayer. "A little R&R for the Xand-man. But now I'm back and ready for action." He flopped down on the couch beside Willow. "How's the Callon thing going? Any books you need me to read? I just love books."

"Oh, we worked all that out," she answered excitedly. "It turns out there was a confluence, you see, of magical energy, caused by..." Giles cut her off gently.

"I'm sorry, Willow, but could you explain later? I need to speak to Xander. Don't you and Buffy have something to study for?"

Buffy frowned. "It's July. There's no school in...oh. Sure, we have a lot of preparation to do for...next term. C'mon, Willow. Catch you later, Xander." The two women hurried out of Giles' apartment, leaving the men watching each other warily. After a moment, Giles came and sat opposite Xander. He removed his glasses, polished them idly on his sleeve, and then replaced them.

Xander couldn't stand the silence. "Look, if this is about the other day..." Giles held up a hand, stopping him in mid-sentence.

"This is about the other day. Xander, I wanted to apologize for my behavior."

Xander frowned, sitting forward in his seat as Giles continued. "You're absolutely correct; you're a free man and can travel when and where you choose, without my permission and without my knowledge, if that's what you want." He hesitated, looking at his hands. "Sometimes I forget how much you children have given up to stay with Buffy and me. Willow could have gone to Oxford, become anything she wished to be. And you..." He looked up at Xander. "Well, I imagine it would be much easier to pursue other things, if you didn't spend so much time and energy with us."

"Yeah. Just think, I could be shift manager at McDonald's by now if it weren't for you guys," Xander said casually.

Giles snapped his head up and looked Xander in the eye. "You undervalue yourself," he said sternly, and then more gently, "and sometimes we undervalue you as well. If you chose to walk another path, it would be our loss, I assure you."

Xander shifted, and settled against the back of the couch. "Well, I don't think that's going to happen. Not anytime soon, anyway." He fiddled with the loose bandage still covering the healing cut across his left hand. Cait had not been surprised at his decision to stay in Sunnydale, but then, nothing seemed to surprise the witch. She had written a number down on a small piece of paper, telling him to contact her if he changed his mind, and he had tucked the paper securely into his wallet, just in case. In case of what, he wasn't sure.

Giles nodded. "Well, then. I'm glad to hear it." He rose to his feet and moved back towards the kitchen. "You know, I still have a number of books to categorize, if you have the time?"

Xander smiled to himself and followed after the Watcher. "I think I can spare a few hours out of my busy schedule for that, providing, of course, that I'm supplied with adequate caffeine." He pulled open the fridge door and snagged a soda off the top shelf.

"As always. What happened to your hand?" Giles took a swig from his own mug and put it in the sink.

Xander flexed his fingers, feeling the skin stretch around the scar that would soon form. "Nothing serious. Just a bar fight," he said carelessly. Giles' eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing to the younger man. Returning to the living room, Xander knelt by a full box of books and began to pull them out and sort them into piles. He heard the kitchen radio go on, and listened as Giles spun through the dial, finally settling on one of Xander's favorite stations. Xander waited for the mockery Giles usually rained on 'today's so-called music', but there was none. Smiling, he returned to his task.

The End