AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first fanfic, and as the title might suggest, it focuses mainly on Xander. Please let me know what you think of it, else my poor, battered ego might just give up the ghost. RATING: Mostly PG-13 for language and adult themes. A couple of parts will be R.DISCLAIMER: I don't own jack. Correction--jack's probably the only thing I do own. The rest belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the Frog Network. SPOILERS: Everything up to "Becoming".

"No can do, kid," he said nicely enough.

"Why the Hell not?" Xander shouted, finally losing his temper with this fedora-wearing freak.

"'Cause..." whispered Whistler, "there's a rule... Look, I know you mortal types take this kind of thing real serious, but I gotta let you know that the folks I work for don't. As far as they're concerned, this world, all of you, you're just pieces on a board."

"You think this is a game?" questioned Giles in stunned contempt. The small man/demon shook his head slowly.

"Not me, Rupe, never me." He sighed heavily. "Believe me, if it was up to me, I'd give you directions, a map, and cab fare, but it ain't. I'm a cog, a piece in the game, just like all of you. Maybe a little higher up on the scale -- a bishop instead of a pawn -- but just another piece. I've been playing this damn game for longer than your species has been alive, and frankly I'm getting a little tired of it. Unfortunately, my profession isn't one that you can just retire from -- kinda like the mob, only worse."

"What is this game you keep talking about?" asked Giles, genuinely interested now in spite of himself, his Watcher instincts moving him into a phase somewhere between curiosity and interrogation.

"Why, THE game, of course. Good and evil. Life and death. All of that and more. The creeps you call demons are the opposition. Vampires make up most of their forces on this world, but there's some biggy demons too, like Moloch -- you remember him? -- and Azazel and, of course, Acathla."

"But you're a demon," interjected Willow, "you said so."

"Technically, I'm a demon. I kinda like the title too -- it makes people a little nervous around you -- but right now I'm playing for the side you'd call good." His brow scrunched in concentration, as though trying to think of a simple way to express what he was thinking. "Okay, look at it this way: I'm a free agent in this game. I can play for either side, depending on which I choose and for how long. Most always, I pick good, simply 'cause I happen to like humans." A strange look crossed the Whistler's face for a moment, only to quickly disappear.

"The problem with good in this game is that it isn't always good. There's other factors involved that make it a bunch more complicated that 'good' and 'evil', though that's the easiest way to think about it. Currently -- that means for the last five or ten thousand years -- my bosses have been in an extended holding maneuver against the opposition, trying to keep them from gaining ground in the multiverse."

"Huh?" said Xander, erudite as ever.

"The *multi*verse. All the universes -- this one, and all the parallels, and all the possibilities, and all the worlds-as-myth -- everything. For the last few thousand years, the game hasn't been moving on its usual grand scale, but on a micro-level, dealing with a world or two at a time. And in the last three millennia, the playing field has dwindled to one world: this one.

"See, real recent like, my bosses and the bosses of the opposition got together and decided that trashing entire dimensions wasn't fun anymore. A 'scorched-earth' campaign just wasn't efficient as it used to be, and they were too evenly matched to really hurt each other much. So in this big diplomatic conference -- a good way to think of it would be 'the Treaty of Midpoint' -- they decided to choose one world at the heart of the battlefield and duke it out one last time. They sent in their troops, sealed off the planet from outside interference, and started planning for the end.

"Only problem was, evil cheated.

"They threw in a couple of wild cards -- vampires for one -- and just started laughing their asses off at good. After all, it's the nature of evil to cheat, and good can't or they'd be just as bad, and the game would fall apart. The referees went back and checked the treaty, which in and of itself took one Hell of a long time, and found a loophole that good could use to stem the tide and even things out again. Most of the evil in the world got dumped down a big hole and locked in -- humans took to calling it Hell. The rest would still have been enough to win, but good had one more card to play..."

Xander and Giles could both see where Whistler was headed with this line of history, and Willow wasn't far behind.

"Are you telling us," said the Englishman, "that *you* are what empowers the Slayers?"

"Not me, Rupe, my bosses. They needed to beat the asses off evil once and for all, and to do it they built a better human. Strong as the supernaturals she fought, fast enough to keep up with them, tough enough not to die from one punch, and resilient enough to accept the hazards of her life and keep going. Better still, make a bunch of 'em. Sad to say, evil called in their lawyers and exploited yet another loophole -- only one per generation -- and the rest is history." The little man looked extremely smug about all of this, as though it was by his hand that it had all happened. Giles sighed; this day just kept getting worse.

"Assuming we believe any of this," he said, "then I have just three questions."

"Fire away, Rupe."

"First, how do you know all of this?"

"Like I said, I work for these guys. And while I'm just a playing piece to them, I'm a fairly well-informed playing piece. Besides, who do you think figured out the loophole for good?" Disturbed now, Giles nonetheless went on.

"You said that the, um, game has moved to just our world. Why?"

"Weren't you listening? In the way the high-ups measure space and time, your place was just about at the dead center of the battle. 'Cause that one was so easy, I'll give you a freebie."

"All right. Why are the Slayers female? From a biological viewpoint, I should think that a male would be more appropriate for combat against demons. Simply due to hormones and musculature, male humans are more suited for physical violence than females."

"That is so sexist," said a slightly miffed Willow.

"Yeah," echoed Oz, "I happen to believe that Willow could kick my ass if she wanted to." He paused for a minute. "That didn't sound right."

Whistler merely shook his head in amusement. "Yeah, for hormones and bad attitudes, men take the cake, but women... I'm immortal, and I wouldn't want to piss off even a normal one. Women are psychologically more adaptable, their emotions are stronger, their spirits are harder to break, and in general they're more interesting than men. Admittedly, under normal circumstances, women don't fight as much as men, but whenthey do, they're more deadly." He looked pointedly at Giles. "One of you Brits said it better than anyone: 'The female of the species...'" He shrugged. "You know the rest. Not bad for a freebie question. Last, but I hope not least?"

Giles cleared his throat. "You've already said that you can't tell us where Buffy is. I've gathered from your history lesson that you can't directly interfere in mortal affairs unless you are ordered to do so. So... why are you here, now, talking to us?"

"I wondered when you'd get to that." He lapsed into uncomfortable silence for a few moments, obviously trying to figure out how to say what he needed to. Finally, he spoke. "My bosses aren't all-powerful or all-knowing. They can make mistakes, just like anybody else, 'cept they don't screw up as often, and when they do, they screw up big-time. I can make mistakes too. See, most times, I'm on my own, following a general set of instructions until I get new ones.

"Not long ago, by your standards, I'd gone recruiting for someone I could use for the side of good without evil hearing about it. It had to be someone completely hopeless, with no purpose in living. Turns out, the guy I got wasn't living at all."

"Angel," muttered Xander darkly.

"Yup, Angel. He was a mess when I found him. I cleaned him up, got him moving, gave him a purpose -- Buffy -- and I sorta set it up where he'd fall in love with that purpose."

Xander's face was stony, his eyes hard, as he listened. He was shaking slightly in barely-held rage and anyone could see that he was going to go off any minute.

"He followed her here, and I kept him supplied with information. Buffy is probably the best Slayer anyone's ever seen, and she's been turning the tide for good in a major way. Without Angel, she'd probably never have gotten as far as she did. Then evil pulled a hand I seriously hadn't expected: Spike, Drusilla, and Jenny Calendar." He motioned for Giles to be silent when he saw the other's eyes flare up in anger. "Ease back, Rupe, she didn't realize. But because of her actions, Angel lost his soul and went over to the other side. Unfortunately, I was out of town at the time and didn't get back until Acathla was uncovered.

"My talent, the one that makes me so coveted by good and evil alike, is to read the future. Not absolutely predict -- the future's mutable and fluid -- but to give probabilities based on incomplete information that are almost always accurate. I knew that Angel would be there when Acathla got dug up, but I thought he would be fighting the demon, not helping free him. I checked my probabilities again, and I figured that if I didn't move fast, the whole world would go to Hell and evil would win by default. I did what I thought was best: I pitted Buffy and Angel against each other, knowing that Buffy would win and Angel would go to Hell in the world's place. Basically a stop-gap maneuver.

"But, because I hadn't known about Angel being evil for the last couple of months, I didn't accurately predict how badly Buffy would take it, I didn't figure that she'd skip town, and I *really* didn't figure that my bosses would schedule me in for an evaluation at the next equinox." Xander's fragile control finally broke with this last statement.

"You mean this whole thing's been about you getting in trouble with your boss?! You don't give one single damn about Buffy, do you?! Or about this town, or this planet, or anything but your own worthless hide! Well, get this -- fuck you! Huh? Fuck... you! How 'bout that? Go back to Hell, or wherever you came from, and just leave us alone!" With some of the poison expelled from his system, Xander clenched his jaw tight and walked over to the other side of the library. He punched the wall as hard as he could with his good arm, and immediately pulled back his hand in pain, sucking away the blood from his torn knuckles.

Whistler seemed somewhat abashed by this outburst.

"You're right, kid. I am selfish, and I am a coward, and I am a lot of other unsavory things too, but I'm also desperate. I can't interfere directly, so I can't go get Buffy myself. But if she ain't back in SunnyHell by the end of the summer, my ass is grass. The bosses happen to like her, and from what I've picked up along the grapevine, she's real important to the war effort too. If they find out that it's my fault that she packed up and left -- and it isn't really my fault, mind you, but my bosses ain't real forgiving about this sort of thing -- then free agent or not, immortal or not, I am seriously going to regret the last century of my life.

"Which finally brings me to why I'm here. Someone's gotta go get her, and that's all there is to it."

"Then tell us where she is..." started Giles.

"I can't! I would if I could, but I can't! That would be interference, and that would piss my bosses off too. What I'm doing right now I can get away with because I haven't technically done anything to violate the Treaty of Midpoint -- I'm pretty damn good at loopholes -- but the second I say anything specific..." His dark eyes darted around in a manner that would have been funny on anyone else. "And besides which, I'm not completely sure of where she is myself. Once she left Sunnydale, my probabilities went right off the charts; she could be as close as Burbank or as far away as Maine by now. I can point you the right way, but then I've gotta go; I have stuff to do and things to take care of before my evaluation committee shows up. But I need to know right now: will you do it?"

Willow and Oz were silent, their tightly clutched hands showing their fear and trepidation. Giles' lips were pursed together so closely that his mouth appeared only as a bloodless line in a craggy face. Whistler's eyes were on them intently, almost boring into their skin with the heat of his anguish. Finally, the silence was broken from a completely unexpected quarter.

"I will," said Xander, so quietly that at first the others were unsure they had heard him at all. "I'll do it. But not for you, and not for your bosses, and certainly not for your damned game. My reasons are my own, but I'll go. I'll find Buffy and I'll bring her home."

Whistler's smile returned slowly, like the sun peeking out from behind a bank of clouds. His dark eyes cleared and some of the good humor returned to his face.

"I thought it would be you, kid. At least, I hoped it would be. Out of everyone here, you've got the best chance of bringing her back alive." Xander didn't like the sound of that.

"So what *is* my chance?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, a little less than fifty-fifty." Seeing the horrified look on the boy's face, he laughed. "Don't ask me why, I just call 'em." He paused for a moment as though listening to something far away. "I gotta go now. Buffy left on a Greyhound bus the night she capped Angel. You can find out which one without me. I think I'll go out the window. See ya."

With that, Whistler walked jauntily to the nearest window, flung it open, and jumped out, landing easily on the soft earth below. He dusted himself off and walked away. In the library, they were still scratching their heads when the double doors swung open to reveal a miniskirt-clad Cordelia. Everyone turned to look at her with an air of anti-climax.

"Did I miss anything?" she asked in her bubbliest voice. When she was rewarded only with cold stares, her expression soured. "What?"

The being who currently called himself Whistler was experiencing a characteristic amount of smug self-satisfaction. And why not? Xander was going to do his dirty work for him. He had managed to enlist the boy's help without revealing anything important -- or anything completely truthful, for that matter -- just by playing on his own existing fears. Pretty soon the other Slayerettes would be too busy to interfere, the Hellmouth would make sure of that. Whether or not Buffy was returned, his bosses would be seriously pleased at his actions. He had managed to preserve his own fragile moral equilibrium and obey orders at the same time.

And, last but not least, he had left before that snobby bitch Cordelia had shown up.

All in all, it was a pretty successful day for the edora-wearing demon.