Another city. Another bar. Each seemed to meld into the next until it was impossible to tell them apart any longer. His life, such as it was, had been so dull and colorless since he'd lost his children.

First Nicholas had turned from him, engaging in a mad quest to regain his humanity. Then Janette, lovely, fiery Janette. So much passion locked inside such a small frame, but there had been nothing fragile about his daughter. She'd been strong up until the day she had died a true death.

Her loss had brought he and Nicholas closer than they had been in years. Then Divia, the lovely child of his mortal life and the mother of his immortal one, had come back into his life against all reason. Somehow, her hate and her rage allowed her to survive her beheading and entombment. And in her quest for revenge, she had rained pain and death amongst his friends and family. Thinking that he'd finally lost his golden son for good, he'd been prepared to let Divia end his miserable existence once and for all.

Nicholas had, once again, managed to surpass everyone's expectations and arrived in time to end the horror that had once been his daughter. But happy endings were not in store for them, maybe they never were. For the love of a mortal woman, Nicholas had begged his father for the unforgivable. And because he loved his son, he had granted that wish.

And now LaCroix had to live with the results of that love. Friends and acquaintances had implored him to begin again. Start a new family, a new life, but he had no more love in his heart to give.

So, here he sat, alone. Nursing a glass of blood wine and trying to ignore the conversations echoing around him. He was doing an admirable job until he heard a Norchash demon sobbing in his ale.

"I tell you, Xrbaic, he was beautiful. And he smelled so good. He smiled at me once and I swear, my hearts almost stopped. All four of them."

The Norchash's companion was obviously enthralled by his friend's story. "So? Why didn't you take him? You've been looking for a mate for years."

"Well, for one thing, he's human."

"A human? Really? They always smell like food to me."

The Norchash shook his head, "Not this one. He smelled like...like...aahhh, I can't describe it. But it was amazing."

Xrbaic called for another round, "So? I still don't get it. Sure, humans don't live that long. But if he's so wonderful, would that really make a difference?"

"I was at Anyanka's wedding, that's where I met him. He was the groom."

"Oh man, that sucks. I wouldn't mess with anything of Anyanka's either."

"Oh, they didn't get married. D'Hoffryn pulled a fast one and broke them up. But he hangs out with the Slayer and a witch. I overheard some of the other guests talking, seems the boy is a demon magnet. He's even been possessed a couple of times. But no demon has managed to catch him and keep him. Even Angelus and those psycho children of his couldn't pull it off. He was put on this earth to torment demons. It's evil, I tell you. Pure evil. But in that place, what could you expect?"

"What place is that?"

"Sunnydale."

"No shit? He lives on the Hellmouth and no one has gotten him yet? Wow. So, does this paragon have a name?"

"Xander. His name is Xander Harris. Man, what a babe."

Xrbaic patted his friend on the shoulder as the Norchash broke down and cried in his beer.

LaCroix quietly finished his wine and decided now would be a good time to move on. And Sunnydale sounded like it might be an interesting place to visit.

*****

Xander grabbed his time card and clocked out, not looking forward to an entire weekend with nothing to do. Since he'd called off the wedding, he'd had nothing, but too much time on his hands. He'd let Anya keep the apartment and after two weeks in his grubby little hotel room, Willow and Buffy had practically knocked down his door and drug him over to Buffy's house. Now he was staying in the spare room downstairs until he could afford to get a new place.

It was kinda nice having Buffy, Wills and Dawn around all the time. But sometimes he missed having his own place. No more crashing on the couch in his boxers and watching cartoons. And he always had to haul all his stuff to the bathroom when he took a shower. The one, and only, time he'd forgotten, he'd had to race through the house in a towel while Buffy covered Dawn's eyes and Willow tried to stifle giggles.

Still, he knew that he'd done the right thing. The future he'd seen in store for he and Anya had been too horrifyingly possible. He really did love Anya, too much to take the risk of that future coming true. He'd thought, at first, that he could handle it, but as the days passed, he realized just how much he missed her and wanted her back.

Of course, there was no possibility of that happening. Anya would never forgive him for calling off the wedding the way he did. He knew that. Maybe being alone would be better in the long run. Buffy and the others needed him and there was no way he could walk away from them. Not now, not after everything they'd been through together.

And he owed Buffy. More than Anya could understand. He'd helped Willow bring her back from the grave, even when he knew it was wrong. And when he'd found out that they hadn't saved her from some hellish existence, but had pulled her out of Heaven...

"Hey, Harris? You got a minute?"

Xander felt like hugging his foreman for interrupting his depressing thoughts, but he knew Mike would have a fit. "Yeah, Mike. What's up?"

"You heard that NightCrawler guy's show?"

Xander nodded with a grimace, "Yeah. He's kinda weird."

Mike laughed, "Can't argue with that. But he's rich. Just bought the Rictor place up on Mason."

"Wow. That place is flippin' huge."

"The biggest house in town. Heard he's looking for someone to do some remodeling. I'd take it, but he's looking for a good interior man. You interested? I've got his card."

Xander shrugged, "Why not? I don't have anything better to do."

Mike looked uncomfortable for a minute before saying, "Harris...ah Hell, kid. Life sucks sometimes. Come on into the trailer and I'll get you his card."

*****

Xander looked at the card in his hand once again, 'Lucien LaCroix' embossed across the heavy white linen. Wiping his hands on his pants, he rang the bell, hoping he wasn't interrupting the guy's dinner. He waited for a couple of minutes with no answer and was trying to decide if he should ring again or come back later when the door opened.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

Xander gulped nervously, "Hi. I'm, uh, Xander Harris. Mike Miller gave me your card. He said you were looking for someone to do some interior work?"

"Yes. Mr. Miller mentioned you. Please, come in and we'll discuss it."

Xander followed his host into the house, still in shock. He'd recognized the voice, this was definitely the NightCrawler. But he didn't look anything like Xander had expected.

Instead of a creepy little guy, the man was tall, with a shock of short, almost white hair and icy blue eyes. And he was built more like a football player than a geek.

LaCroix opened a door halfway down the hall and waved Xander inside. The room was big, but it was also pretty bare. A stone fireplace with a carved marble mantle took up one wall. The only items in the room were a couple of chairs, a sideboard and a small table. LaCroix took the chair closest to the windows, leaving the other for Xander. "Would you care for something to drink? Coffee? Or a glass of wine?"

"No. Thank you. I'm fine."

"Very well. Shall we begin then?"

Xander nodded, and LaCroix smiled. "I need shelving. Quite a great deal of it, I'm afraid. I have an extensive collection of books and while this house is adequate in most regards, it is woefully lacking in anything resembling a bookcase."

Xander tilted his head, giving LaCroix a serious look. "Are you sure you want to hire a carpenter for bookcases? I can do it, no problem. But prefab units are a lot cheaper."

"The cost is not a concern. I plan on living in this house for quite some time and I'm rather particular about my surroundings."

Xander flashed him a quick grin, "I can understand that. Did you have a design in mind?"

"Not really, no. But I would like something that matches the rest of the house."

"Okay. Can you show me where you'd like the shelves so I can take some measurements? Then I can work up some plans and give you an estimate."

LaCroix pointed at the bare walls surrounding them, "This room, for starters. I would like the shelves to start next to the fireplace and wrap around the entire room. And as for an estimate, I dare say if I were to open an account with the local merchants, it would be easier on both of us."

"That'd be great. That way I can order everything ahead of time and I won't have to wait on delivery."

"Excellent. Would you like to begin taking your measurements now, or would you rather I show you the rest of the work that needs to be done first?"

Xander cocked his head and asked, "are you sure you want me to do the job? I mean, you don't know anything about me."

LaCroix merely smiled, "you came very highly recommended. I'm quite sure whatever you come up with will be more than adequate."

*****

Xander called out a cheerful greeting as he stepped into the kitchen, "Honeys, I'm home!"

Willow looked up from the pot she was stirring and grinned, "You're in a good mood today, Xander."

Xander snuck a look at dinner and nudged Willow with his elbow, "Yep. The Xan-Man is doing good. Remember me telling you that I was going to have to go back to scut work for a couple of months?"

Willow wrinkled her nose at him, "Yes. Sounds icky."

Xander hopped up onto a stool and snagged one of the carrots from the cutting board, "It's not icky, Wills. It just sucks. Anyway, Mike told me about a guy that needed some work done and I went and talked to him tonight. This guy is as big a book freak as Giles. He wants shelves. Lots and lots of shelves. And some cabinets. And a wine rack. Big wine rack. And some other stuff, too. I'm going to be a busy, busy boy. I already talked to Mike. The company is more than willing to give me a leave of absence and guarantee my job when the inside stuff starts back up."

Willow left the stove and ran over to Xander a hug. "That's wonderful!" Leaning back, she gave him her mommy stare, "Is he going to pay you?"

Xander chuckled, "Oh yeah. And he's going to open accounts at the lumberyard and that home improvement place. So I won't have to lay out any money to get started."

Willow frowned, "That sounds too good to be true, Xander. Who is this guy?"

"Lucien LaCroix."

Willow's gaze went distant as she said, "I've heard that name somewhere before."

"Yep. He's that NightCrawler guy from the radio."

Willow shuddered, "Is he as creepy as he sounds?"

Xander snagged another carrot and shrugged, "No. He seemed nice enough to me. He kinda reminded me of Giles, besides the whole book thing, I mean."

"He looks like Giles? Really?"

Xander rolled his eyes at his friend, "No. He doesn't look anything like Giles. It was just the way he talked. Kinda proper, ya know? But he's not uptight like Giles is."

"So? What does he look like?"

"He's big. Taller than me, more muscles than me and his hair is almost white. Not a fang, horn or tail in sight," Xander replied cheekily.

Willow arched one elegantly shaped brow, "Are you sure?"

"Wills, get real. He's on the radio, it's not like he's hiding out. And he bought the Rictor place so he has to have a lot of money. Not to mention all the legal stuff he would have had to do to buy a house. Doesn't sound like any demon or vamp I've ever met."

Willow's eyes were huge by this point. "The Rictor House? Wow. Come on, tell me. What's it like inside?"

"Big. It's pretty cool. Lots of windows and hardwood floors. He doesn't have much furniture in there yet. He wants to get some of the work done first."

Willow saved dinner before it managed to scorch, "That makes sense. But if he works nights, when are you going to be able to work?"

Xander jumped down from the stool and got a can of soda out of the fridge. Opening it, he chugged almost half before answering. "There's a big garage out back. I go in at noon and work out there until five. He said he'd be up by then and I won't have to worry about making noise in the house. Best of all, at the rate he's paying me, it won't take long for me to get enough saved up to get my own place."

Willow looked stricken, "You want to move out?"

"Ah, Wills. No, of course I don't want to move out. But I need to. Us manly men need our privacy. I do need a favor though."

"Anything for you, Xander. You know that," Willow said gently.

"I need you to help me set up a budget. And I want to set up an account for Buffy and Dawn. You know, to help pay bills and stuff. Once I get a new place and get it set up, I'll still have a lot left over. And when I go back to the site, I'll be making more than enough for what I need."

"Xander, that's so sweet, but you need to worry about your future too."

"I know, Wills, that's why I need a budget. You can do that, right?"

"Yep. I can do that."

*****

LaCroix watched as the young man climbed into his car and drove away. He hadn't wanted to let him go, but it was too early in the game for a move like that. Closing the front door, he headed back into what would become the library.

After lighting a fire, he settled in with a glass of wine, having fed earlier. He still had a couple of hours before he had to get to the station and he'd found that such time was best spent in quiet contemplation.

Most of such time spent in the last few years had been mourning his children. But now he had other things on his mind. Such as a brown eyed boy that literally teemed with life. Some few mortals were gifted with such a love of life that it flowed out from their body, touching all those around them with a kind of infectious joy. To the Community, these people were known as the Golden. Such an incredibly rare breed that the Community, in times long past, before the advent of organized police forces, would kidnap such a child and raise them in the Community with the knowledge of their place in it, once they were brought across.

These people invariably became teachers, healers, artisans or protectors, whether raised by mortals or vampires. The more they gave to others, the happier they were. These people needed to be needed. If left on their own, they invariably became depressed and would slowly wither and die.

LaCroix had come to Sunnydale, after hearing of the boy, in the hope that he had finally found the person he could bring across as his new son. But after spending only a few hours with Xander, his plans had changed. Such a rare creature should be cherished as the gift he was, not left alone and unprotected as he now was, his relationship with the Slayer aside.

Throughout the endless centuries of his life, LaCroix had never taken a mate. Olivia, Divia's mother, had been a gift from a grateful Emperor. And while he had been fond of her, and she of him, there had been no love between them. Only Divia, his beautiful child, had held his heart. And he had given her all the love a father could, but no one had ever touched his heart as only a true lover could.

He had come close. Once. Fleur, his lovely flower. But Nicholas had known the truth. Fleur, while lovely, intelligent and kind, was not strong enough to come into his world of darkness whole, but she was not one of the Golden. Xander, however, was. And as such, he was more than strong enough to handle the transition and keep his self, his essence of being, intact.

But even now, LaCroix could sense the isolation eating away at the boy. And this changed things. The long drawn-out seduction he would normally pursue would not be possible. The damage, once begun, would grow exponentially. Soon, the young man he hoped to make his mate, would lose that hold on his being. If that happened, and he was brought across, Xander would be nothing more than a ravaging beast. Capable of feeling nothing, but hunger.

LaCroix had known such monsters, known some of them quite well. Aurelius, Divia's other child, his own brother in darkness, still haunted his nightmares. LaCroix had met his new brother for the first time almost fifteen years after he and Divia had escaped the destruction of Pompeii.

They had wandered across the country, eventually ending up in Rome. Divia had left him for a few days, nothing unusual, and had returned with a new childe. Lucius Aurelius Commodus. The Emperor of Rome. To say LaCroix had been shocked would be an understatement.

While it was true that he was no longer one of Rome's general's, the habits of a lifetime were hard to break. And while killing one's emperor was treason, it was not unheard of. Especially in the event of an emperor like Aurelius. But one did not turn one's emperor into an evening snack, not even Caligula would have gone that far. Not to mention the fact that Aurelius Commodus was a psychotic butcher. How he had lasted as long as he did was a mystery LaCroix never did decipher. Divia, of course, was ecstatic with her new childe and often pitted the two of them against each other.

Aurelius thought nothing of killing entire villages. Not to feed, not for safety, but just for the thrill. Divia had reveled in his savagery. LaCroix was sickened by such waste. He had enjoyed the hunt, and the kill, but saw little sense in wholesale slaughter. It merely attracted attention to them. The wrong kind of attention.

To this day LaCroix could remember the mad dash from Sparta. They had only been in Greece for a few months when Divia and Aurelius had killed the wrong man, a warrior priest of the War God Ares. Hundreds of warriors armed with wooden spears had found them and chased them to the sea. Only pure luck had allowed them to stow away on a ship and escape.

The end of the voyage had found them in Egypt, the home of the man who had brought Divia across. Divia had taken a great deal of delight in showing off the tomb of her former master. She gloated as she told LaCroix how she had tricked her Master and then taken his head. Sealing him in the temple of the Sun God Ra. To celebrate, Divia had slaughtered an entire village.

It was then that LaCroix knew that Divia had to be stopped. The amoral monster that was once his beloved daughter would not stop until the entire world rested at her dainty feet. As he removed her still shrieking head from her tiny body, he had thought that the pain would end his life as well. And for a moment, he almost hoped that it would.

Aurelius had tried to stop him, but the former Emperor was weak and no match for a seasoned warrior. Aurelius had, however, managed to escape, fleeing Egypt with LaCroix chasing him across the centuries. And in his path, Aurelius had left constant reminders of Divia's insanity.

In a tiny village, now long forgotten, LaCroix had finally cornered his insane brother. The ensuing battle had been bloody, to say the least. And when the battle was finally won, Aurelius was nothing but a scattering of dust littering the ground. Just more proof that the insane Emperor had not been meant to be a vampire. Of course, it wasn't really that simple, nothing ever was. Aurelius had known that he wouldn't be able to evade LaCroix forever, so he had taken a few precautions. Precautions in the form of children equally as insane as their deranged Sire.

Hunting down those children had eventually led LaCroix to the Council of Vampires, and more importantly, to the Enforcers. This was something LaCroix could understand. Politics and war. He had played the game for years, and played it well. He told the Council about Divia, what he had done to her and why. His actions and his hunt for Aurelius' children earned him a position with the Enforcers. In little time, LaCroix found himself in a position of power, ruling and guiding the soldiers of darkness.

It was during one of their hunts when LaCroix had first seen Janette. He had been a vampire for over a thousand years, and had ruled the Enforcers for five hundred of those years. The Council and his warriors were saddened by his departure, but it was time for a life of his own making.

And now, here he was. Almost two thousand years had passed since his birth. Aurelius' children still walked the earth, his own children were gone and he was alone. But with a lot luck and a little of patience, not for much longer.

Of course, nothing was ever that simple. Xander would have to be wooed very carefully. More so than any other, in part due to his relationship with the current slayer. The boy had become known to many in the vampire, and demon communities alike, as someone not to be toyed with. If the Slayer didn't kill you, the boy would come up with a plan that would. The demise of the Judge was proof enough of that belief.

But all of this speculation about Xander and their possible future was doing LaCroix no good at all. First, he would have to notify the Council that he had located a Golden, one who knew of vampires, even if it were only the diseased creatures populating the Hellmouth. And Xander would have to be protected from any and all who might want to harm him. Whether the boy liked it or not.

*****

Xander gently polished out a smudge and stepped back to admire his work. Two weeks and the first two bookcases were finished. It had taken a lot of planning, but the new shelves were perfect. The lines and curves of the wood flowed effortlessly from the fireplace. All in all, the new shelves looked like they had been built at the same time as the mantle. Now, to get his new employer's opinion.

Knocking on the door where LaCroix kept his office, Xander waited for the older man to answer. He didn't have to wait long. "Ah. Good evening, Xander. Did you need something?"

Xander grinned, "I finished the first two cases. I thought you might want to check them out before I started on the next set."

LaCroix eagerly followed Xander to the library and was struck dumb when he saw what the young man had wrought. "Xander...these are beautiful."

Xander could feel his face heat up, "Thanks. Sorry it took so long, but I wanted to get them right." Xander hurried over to the shelves, kneeling down at the base of one. "I know they're really tall, so I built in some steps." Xander pushed on the base and LaCroix heard a faint click. Then a set of steps slid out from the wall.

LaCroix's brow shot up in surprise, "how ingenious."

"So, you like them?" Xander asked anxiously.

LaCroix clapped one strong hand on Xander's shoulder, "I love them. You've done some amazing work."

"The next ones will go faster, promise."

LaCroix shook his head, "Xander, do not worry about that. I am more than pleased with your efforts." LaCroix heard the grandfather clock in the hallway chime the hour. "And now, it's getting rather late. I have to leave for the studio soon and you should be getting home."

Xander glanced at his watch and winced, it was late. "It'll just take me a minute to get this stuff put away and I'll get out of your hair."

LaCroix reached into his pocket and pulled out a key chain. Handing it to Xander he said, "Here. A set of keys for the house. Take your time. Will you be here tomorrow?"

Xander pocketed the keys and nodded, "I was planning on it, Mr. LaCroix."

"Please," LaCroix said with a grimace, "call me Lucien. Mr. LaCroix sounds stuffy."

Xander laughed at the pained expression on the other man's face. "Lucien it is then."

*****

Dawn turned up the volume on the radio, ignoring the frown on her sister's face when the NightCrawler's voice echoed throughout the Magic Box.

"Dawn! Would you turn that off? Please? That guy gives me the wiggins." Buffy said petulantly.

"I think he's cool." Dawn refuted, clutching the radio to her chest when Buffy reached for it.

"He's a nice guy, Buffy. And it's just a show." Xander said, not bothering to look up from the book he was reading.

Buffy shuddered, "I know you like him, Xander, but he's still creepy."

"Shhhh! I can't hear him." Dawn complained.

'Good evening, children. Tonight we have something new to entertain and inform. Shall we call it a public service announcement? Or maybe just a traffic report? It matters not. Listen, children and pay heed. A little bird has been whispering in my ear, a raven, shiny and black. And what does he say? By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. What evil, nasty hobgoblin does roam the streets of our fair dale? Why, children, tis the Jabberwocky come to call, Grilech is his name.'

'And he hunts, children. Hunts for life and for blood. So, children, if you value your lives, such as they may be, stay far, far away from places where the dead keep company with the oak trees.'

Buffy pointed at the radio, "You see? He's creepy!"

"And he just told us what we've been looking for," Willow said absently. Turning her book, she pointed at the page she'd been reading, "Look. Grilech demon. Raises zombies to use as an army to hunt for humans."

Buffy quickly read the description in the book, "Huh. Okay. That helps. But where do we find this thing?"

Xander grinned and grabbed his jacket, "Where else? Oakdale Cemetery."

Buffy returned the grin and headed for the weapons locker to load up. As she pulled out an axe, she paused and asked, "Xander? How come your boss knows where this demon is? Let alone what it is?"

Xander shrugged and accepted a mace from the Slayer, "Let's worry about that later. We've got a Jabberwocky to deal with."

"It's a Grilech demon, Xander," Willow corrected.

Xander rolled his eyes, "Who cares? He's toast."

*****

Willow carefully taped the gash in Xander's forehead, a frown of concentration on her pretty face. "I think that's it, Xander. Does anything else hurt?"

Xander shook his head, carefully, and quirked a grin, "Just bruises, Wills. I don't think anything's broken."

"Are you sure you're okay, Xander? You got hit really hard," Buffy said worriedly.

"I'm good. Not even the Jabberwocky can keep the Xan-man down."

Buffy sighed, it was an old argument, one she knew she couldn't win. Trying to keep Xander out of danger was like trying to keep the sun from coming up. "Xander, how much do you know about this NightCrawler guy?"

"Not a lot. I've only been working for him for a couple of weeks."

Willow curled up on the couch and stared at Xander intently, "You must know something by now, Xander. You're over there everyday."

Xander shrugged, not really sure what they wanted him to say. "I spend most of the day out in the garage, Wills. And when I am in the house, I'm there to work. Not to chit chat. I mean, he says hi and asks how I am and stuff, but that's about it. No deep conversations."

Buffy propped her chin in her hand, "I think we need to find out more about this guy, Xander. Don't you think it's kinda weird that he knew what the demon was and where it was hanging out?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

"I think we should go talk to him," Willow said suddenly.

Buffy checked her watch, "He should still be at the station, let's go."

Xander shook his head, and then groaned when it felt like his brain was rattling. "Guys, this is my boss. You know...the nice man who pays me twenty-two dollars an hour? Let's not piss him off, okay?"

Buffy rolled her eyes at him, "We're just going to ask him a few questions, Xander. Get a grip."

Xander took a deep breath and then coughed when his bruised ribs protested. It took him a couple of minutes, but he finally got his breathing under control. "Buffy, the guy was trying to warn people, let's not do anything stupid, okay?"

Buffy tried glaring at him, but Xander just blinked at her and she caved. "All right, I'll be nice. I promise. No stakage involved. Unless he's a vamp." Buffy tucked Mr. Pointy into the back of her jeans with a smile and pulled Willow towards the door.

Xander hung his head and sighed before rushing to catch up. "This is so not good."

*****

LaCroix smelled the blood before he heard the approaching heartbeats. Quickly keying off his microphone, he settled back into his chair to wait for his guests to arrive.

As they got closer, a familiar scent rose above the smell of blood. Xander. LaCroix shot out of his chair and almost ripped the door off it's hinges. Xander, standing directly on the other side of the door with his hand raised to knock, jumped back in surprise. LaCroix grabbed Xander's upraised arm and pulled him into the studio, turning on the overhead lights as he passed the switch.

"Xander? What happened to you? Are you all right?" LaCroix asked as he frantically checked for internal injuries and broken bones.

Xander giggled when LaCroix's hand brushed down his ribs. "Hey! Knock it off! Ticklish guy here!"

LaCroix pushed Xander down into his chair, "Do you need to see a doctor? What am I saying? Of course you need to see a doctor. You're bleeding!"

Xander gaped at his employer, glad that he had convinced Buffy and Willow to give him a couple of minutes alone with LaCroix. When he saw LaCroix reach for the phone, Xander jumped out of the very comfortable chair and pushed the disconnect button. "Mr. LaCroix," Xander gulped at the glare thrown his way and quickly backstepped, "I mean, Lucien. I'm fine. Really. I've been hurt worse shaving in the morning."

LaCroix took in the numerous bruises, abrasions and lacerations covering Xander's face and lower arms, "You don't look fine," he said shortly.

Xander grinned, "Gee. Hurt a guy's feelings why don't you?"

LaCroix rolled his eyes and groaned, "I see your injuries haven't affected your sense of humor." Waving Xander over to the small sofa against the back wall, LaCroix settled back into his chair. "Since you obviously haven't come here for first aid, what can I do for you, Xander?"

Xander fidgeted slightly, "Well, uh, my friends and I were wondering..."

"We were wondering what a vamp was doing running a radio show." Buffy said from the doorway. Before Xander could say a word, Buffy had Mr. Pointy in her hand and was lunging towards LaCroix.

LaCroix didn't even try to get out of her way. He merely raised one brow and said "Stop."

Buffy froze in her tracks. Willow, who had been pulling a bottle of Holy Water out of her purse, did the same. LaCroix threw a quick glance at Xander, who sat frozen on the sofa. With a sigh, he tried to repair the damage. Speaking in the same oddly echoing voice he said, "Put away the stake, Slayer."

Buffy complied, not even fighting the order. LaCroix nodded, "Good. Now. Come here. All of you."

Xander and Willow fell in behind Buffy, all of them staring at LaCroix. Then, without warning, Xander waved his hand in front of Buffy's face. Not getting a reaction from the Slayer, he pulled a stake out of his back pocket and stood in front of his friends. Glaring at his employer he said, "cool trick. Now turn it off."

LaCroix grimaced, "you would have to be a resistor, wouldn't you?"

Xander snorted inelegantly, "after that whole deal with Dracula, I swore I would never be caught by another vamp's mind tricks."

LaCroix's eyes flashed gold, but only for a split second. He had too many years of practice to lose control now. "Dracula? And how would you know that pompous upstart?"

Xander shrugged, "met him a while back. He came to town and decided he wanted Buffy, and used me to try and get her." Xander's nose wrinkled in remembered disgust, "he made me eat bugs."

Anyone who knew LaCroix would recognize the expression on his face. They would then find a reason, no matter how pathetic, to immediately leave the area with all speed. The General had earned his reputation for violence the hard way. But Dracula would have to wait for now. There were other, more important things, to take care of at the moment. Waving his hand, LaCroix said distastefully, "You can put your little stick away, Xander. It won't do you any good."

"Hey! I might not be the Slayer, but I can hold my own," Xander stated indignantly.

"I'm sure you can," LaCroix said with a sigh, "but shoving that stake through my heart won't kill me, Xander. It'll just make me angry. You wouldn't like me very much when I'm angry," LaCroix said flatly.

Xander gulped, but stood his ground, "I'm not going to let you hurt them."

LaCroix roared out of his chair, "If I wanted to hurt them, boy, I would. I mean no harm to you or your little friends. Now please, put it away."

"Let them go first," Xander insisted stubbornly.

"Very well." Staring at the girls, he said, "You will go home now and go to sleep. You both will wake up refreshed and feeling much better about Xander's employer."

Buffy and Willow both nodded, smiled sweetly and left.

Xander gaped at his friends, not believing what was happening. He about jumped out of his shoes when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. LaCroix shook his head and smiled slightly, "you should make sure they get home safely, Xander. Then come to the house. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Xander stepped away quickly, "oh yeah, like I'm going to be dumb enough to fall for that one. I don't think so."

LaCroix gritted his teeth, "if it makes you feel any better, leave your friends a note telling them where you are going and why."

Xander blushed and backed towards the door. "Uh. Yeah. Okay. I'll be there in an hour or so." Then he bolted out the door and down the hall.

LaCroix sank into his chair and wearily rubbed his eyes, "Well, as they say, a well laid plan seldom outlives the first engagement with the enemy."

*****

Xander tore up the first note. And the second, third, etc., until he ultimately destroyed his tenth and final attempt. 'Okay. You can do this. It's not like he'll know you didn't leave a note. Of course, if you don't leave a note, and he kills you, Buffy and Wills will never know what happened.'

Xander banged his head on the wall a few times, hoping against hope that he'd knock some sense into himself. All he did was make his headache worse. 'Oh, you're just brilliant, aren't you? Fucking wonderful. Now I'm talking to myself and I sound like Spike.'

Xander crept up the stairs to check on the girls one more time. As far as he could tell, no real damage had been done by LaCroix's Jedi Mind Trick. He'd gotten the girls home, listening all the while to them chattering about how nice his boss was, ad nausea, until he was about to scream.

Both girls were sleeping quietly and he'd run out of excuses and out of time. With one last look, he crept back down the stairs and into the night.

*****

LaCroix paced restlessly through the house, running mock conversations through his head. He really had no idea what would occur when, if, Xander arrived. Realistically speaking, the boy had no business coming over. Not now that he knew the truth. And at night! What had he been thinking? Night time on the Hellmouth was the time for all good mortals to be locked away snug in their beds. Not to be wandering around looking for trouble.

LaCroix looked at the antique clock on the mantle, watching the second hand slowly tick the time away. As it steadily moved past the hour mark, LaCroix made a swift, albeit not well thought out, decision. Opening the doors leading into the garden, he stepped through and became one with the night.

*****

Xander cursed and gripped his steering wheel with white knuckled hands. With a sigh of reluctance, he reached for the keys and turned off the car, cursing again as the 'E' light on his gas gauge faded out of sight. "Well this is just fucking wonderful." Continuing to mutter to himself, Xander left the safety of his car, taking an extra second to lock the doors. Not that locking them would actually prevent anyone, or anything, from stealing or destroying it, but it made him feel better.

Xander shoved his hands in his pockets and casually strolled down the street, trying to look like he wasn't worth messing with. In reality, his hands were sweating and he had a death grip on the stake in one pocket and the vial of Holy Water in the other.

As he passed out of the seeming safety of the street light, he thought he saw something move down the street. He knew better than to try to run, most demons could chase down Michael Johnson without breaking a sweat, he wouldn't stand a chance. Pretending that he hadn't seen the movement, he carefully pulled the stake out of his pocket, keeping it tight against his leg so it wouldn't be seen.

As he drew closer, the furtive movements in the shadows became more obvious, but he still couldn't identify just what was stalking him.

Then it must have decided that Xander would be easy prey and it stepped out of the shadows. And so did it's friends. Once Xander got a good look, he'd really wished he hadn't. Zombies. Six stinky, slimy, oozing, animated corpses. The smell alone was making his eyes water and his stomach heave. A stake just wasn't going to do the job this time. Xander just hoped that he could out run them.

Making a sudden feint to the left, Xander whirled, ready to break land speed records, but the Jabberwocky had been busy that night. Four more zombies had appeared and he was surrounded.

*****

LaCroix couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. He didn't know why, he just knew he had to get to Xander. And quickly. Choosing the most direct path between their respective domiciles, he flew just above the rooftops, scanning the streets and alleyways below. Less than a mile from his house, he found what he'd been looking for.

*****

Xander yanked back, hard, trying desperately to dislodge the bruising grip the zombie had on his wrist. As it turned out, he yanked just a little too hard. With a moist, sucking sound, the zombie's arm separated from it's body.

Xander wasn't at all ashamed of the fact that he was squealing like a girl and dancing around the street waving his arms, trying to shake loose the hand that was slowly inching it's way up his sleeve. His frantic maneuvers did nothing, but put him within reach of another of his tormenters.

Grotesque hands latched onto his shoulders, pulling him inexorably closer to the gaping maw filled with rotting teeth. A thick black sludge oozed out of slack lips and Xander felt his stomach trying to crawl out of his throat.

Then his captor was flying across the street to crash into the metal lamp post. The same lamp post whose light reflected off LaCroix's ice blonde hair and flashing yellow-green eyes.

LaCroix shoved aside two more zombies to reach Xander's side and they quickly found themselves surrounded on all sides. Instead of attacking, the zombies started an eerie wailing that made the hair on the back of Xander's neck stand straight up. "What the Hell are they doing?" he asked LaCroix anxiously.

"Calling for their brethren, I'm afraid. We must leave here, and quickly. I could defeat six, maybe seven, before they pulled me down, but you...I'm afraid that their plans for you would be far worse than mere dismemberment," LaCroix said quietly.

"Worse than dismemberment? What the Hell could be worse than dismemberment?" Xander asked incredulously, then shook his head, "Never mind, I don't want to know. Actually, leaving sounds like an excellent idea. Wish I would have thought of it. Now, how do you propose we get by them?" Xander asked sarcastically, still trying to get the creeping hand off his arm.

LaCroix reached down and ripped the zombie's arm loose and threw it on the ground, "Do you trust me, Xander?" LaCroix asked simply.

"Hell, no. I might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I'm not stupid."

LaCroix felt an honest smile, an unaccustomed expression for him, cross his face as he threw back his head and laughed. "Well said. Very well, let's put it another way...me or them?" LaCroix asked, pointing at the slowly advancing dead.

Xander gulped, "you. Definitely you."

"I was hoping you'd feel that way," LaCroix said as he wrapped his arms around Xander's body and leapt for the sky.

Xander felt a rush of air and looked down. Way down. Then he clamped his eyes shut and wrapped himself around LaCroix like a cheap whore on a cold night. He couldn't decide what was freaking him out more. The fact that he was clinging tightly to a vampire, or the fact that they were flying.

Curiosity finally won out over sheer terror and Xander opened one eye. His grip around LaCroix's rib tightened convulsively, but the wonder soon outweighed the fear. Sunnydale was almost beautiful at night. Especially from a distance that only allowed the most cursory inspection.

LaCroix wasn't so pleased with what he saw. He spotted no less than seven roving bands of zombies wandering the darker streets and alleyways. Faint screams could be heard now and then, proof that some unfortunate wandered a little too close to the darkness.

But the most disturbing fact was that the zombies all seemed to be trailing them. LaCroix bit back a curse. The very thing that made Xander so desirable as a mate to a vampire, also made him number one on the zombie's menu.

He hadn't been lying when he told Xander that there were facts much worse than being torn apart. Being eaten alive, bite by slow, agonizing bite, was a fate LaCroix wouldn't wish on anyone. Except maybe that Phelps fellow. Suffering the indignanty of being slowly consumed before having to face his God and answer for his actions seemed somehow appropriate.

But there would be time for such fond thoughts another time. The light spilling from the open patio doors of his house came into view and LaCroix brought them in for a gentle landing. He was pleased to note that Xander looked almost disappointed to be back on the ground.

Ushering the young man inside, LaCroix shut and bolted the doors, not that such a simple precaution would actually stop the zombies' advance, but it might buy them a few precious moments of safety.

"What now?" Xander asked as he crossed to the phone.

"We leave this town. Now. Tonight."

Xander shook his head as he dialed, "No can do. I have to get Buffy and Willow and stop those things. Too many people are at risk."

LaCroix's eyes flashed, "It's too dangerous. Each person they kill, but don't consume, will become like them in a matter of moments. Soon, this entire city will be laid to waste."

Xander's face went pale when he heard the word 'consume', "Then we have to stop them before it gets that far. That's what we do. But you're more than welcome to leave if you're afraid."

LaCroix had to remind himself that the boy was one of the Golden and therefore precious. That he wanted to take Xander as his mate. Killing him for his impertinance would not be a good start for their relationship. "I am not afraid of a few shabby, decaying corpses."

Xander grinned, holding the phone to his ear, "Good. That means you're going to help, right?"

LaCroix actually found himself speechless. Not even Nicholas at his most annoying had managed to anger him so much in so little time. And now this...this...LaCroix sighed, this charming young man, basically had him wrapped around his finger. It didn't matter how insanely stupid it might be to linger in this plebeian little village. If Xander wouldn't listen to reason, he'd just have to join the insanity and enjoy the ride.
Xander slammed down the phone, interrupting LaCroix's thoughts, "They aren't answering. I have to get over there."

LaCroix shook his head, "They won't wake until dawn. They are no doubt snuggled snug in their beds at this very moment. Grilech's children won't bother with them yet. There are too many easy tidbits currently roaming the streets."

Xander's face went pale, "Grilech's children? Uh, you mean the Jabberwocky? We killed Grilech earlier tonight. Shouldn't all of the zombies have gone back to sleep or something?"

LaCroix closed his eyes when he heard Xander say that they'd killed the demon. "Uh, I'm guessing that was a bad thing?"

LaCroix nodded, "You could say that. Tell me...after you 'killed' something that was already dead, did you burn it to ashes?" LaCroix asked hopefully, finally opening his eyes when Xander didn't reply.

The young mortal was glaring at the vampire in sheer disgust. "Hello? We have been doing this for a while now. We chopped her up into little pieces, then burned everything. We even made sure to scatter the ashes over a couple of miles so she couldn't be regenerated."

LaCroix sighed, "Then we have an even larger problem than I'd imagined. Grilech is a male. The female you killed must have been his mate. Now he'll be looking for a replacement to breed with. For that, he's going to need women. Young, fertile women. Preferably women with power. Once he finds one that can be impregnanted without dying in the process, the rest will be kept alive to feed the young once they are born."

Xander's face turned a truly sickly shade of gray. "Women with power? You mean like the Slayer and witches and stuff?" When LaCroix nodded, Xander started for the door at a rapid clip.

LaCroix latched onto his arm and spun him around, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I have to get home. If Buffy and Willow won't wake up until dawn, then that means that they won't be able to fight if the zombies come for them." Xander's eyes went wide, "Oh shit. Dawn. Dawn should have answered the phone."

LaCroix glanced at the antique clock residing on the mantle, "It is rather late, she is probably just sleeping."

Xander shook his head, "Dawn's a teenager. A ringing phone could wake her out of a coma," he said as he pulled away from LaCroix.

LaCroix sighed and held out his hand. Xander stared at him, completely perplexed. "Your vehicle, I believe, is now sitting along the side of the street? I can either take you there myself, or you can walk."

Xander shrugged, stepped around LaCroix and out the door. LaCroix actually gaped at him for a moment before quickly catching up. Not that he had to go far. Xander was doing a wonderful impression of a statue on the edge of the patio.

LaCroix immediately discovered the reason for his shock. Over thirty zombies were currently shambling through the garden, carelessly trodding on his prize winning blue roses.

Xander shivered, "I'm having Thriller flashbacks. If they start dancing, I'm gonna scream."

"Excuse me?" LaCroix asked incredulously.

Xander shook his head, "Never mind." With one quick glance at the approaching horde, Xander turned pleading brown eyes on LaCroix. "Uh...I changed my mind. I'd really, really, appreciate a lift."

LaCroix once again extended his hand, fighting back a smile when Xander grasped it tightly. "It would be my pleasure."

*****

Dawn huddled back into the crevice between the dumpster and the alley wall, trying desperately to disappear before those things came after her again. Dawn choked back a sob, Tiffany hadn't run fast enough. She'd been too busy screaming her head off to actually escape. The screams had been worse when three of them pulled her down and started tearing out chunks of flesh with their teeth. Dawn couldn't save her life, so she did the only thing she could. She saved her from the pain.

The zombies, or whatever they were, were strong. Really strong. But they weren't very fast. She'd spotted the pipe lying in a jumble of debris in the alley and snatched it up before her brain could override her instincts. The sound it made when it caved in Tiffany's skull would haunt her for the rest of her life, but it was better than hearing those helpless, horrified screams.

Still clutching the gore spatter metal, Dawn had run as hard and as fast as she could, quickly leaving the monsters behind. Unfortunately, she'd run into more of them. It was almost like they were waiting for her. The pipe hadn't been of much use. The first one she'd hit had merely grabbed it and yanked it out of her hand. Then it started moaning, it's mouth drooling some reaking black ooze.

So, she ran. But not fast enough or far enough. She now realized that they'd been herding her into this alleyway. And now she was trapped.

Dawn kicked and screamed as dirt encrusted hands latched onto her ankles and pulled her from her sanctuary. She screamed louder when she recognized the face of the monster that was dragging her out into the street. "Mom! Oh God no! Mom!"

*****

Xander was really started to like this flying thing. No traffic. No stop signs. Not to mention it was a lot faster to fly in a straight line than it was to follow weirdly meandering streets.

He was slightly freaked out when LaCroix headed straight for Buffy's without asking for directions, but decided that it wasn't really important at the moment. The really important thing was the fact that he could see the shattered remains of Buffy's front door. It had been ripped loose from it's frame and was lying in pieces on the front lawn.

LaCroix set them down on the sidewalk, holding onto Xander when he tried to run for the house. "Wait," he whispered, reaching out with all his senses. "The house is empty, they're already..."

LaCroix started growling and moved so fast Xander only saw a blur. When the blur came into focus, he saw LaCroix holding a wildly struggling Spike by the throat.

"Ah, Hell." Xander ran to the vampires and tugged on LaCroix's arm. "Let go. That's Spike."

LaCroix flashed an impressive set of fangs, "He's one of Aurelius' get. I can smell the foulness of him."

Xander tugged harder, "Hey, I don't like him either, but we're going to need all the help we can get. He can't do much if you rip his head off." Xander pulled harder, not that it did any good. "Please, Lucien. Let him go."

That quiet request worked where all of the blustering and yelling wouldn't have.

LaCroix released his punishing grip and Spike fell to the ground with a curse. "Who the bloody Hell are you?"

"I am Lucian LaCroix. Perhaps you have heard of me?"

Spike's normally pale complexion went a ghastly shade of grey. "The NightCrawler?" he asked in a whisper.

A cheerful grin bloomed across LaCroix's craggy face, completely at odds with the murderous gleem in his icy blue eyes. "It's so heartening when one's reputation proceeds one, don't you think? It makes things...less complicated."

Spike gulped, "oh shit."

Xander, despite being very entertained by the obvious fear in Spike's face, had to interrupt the vampires' pissing contest. "We don't have time for this right now, guys. We have to find the girls. Now."

LaCroix, never shifting his eyes from the smaller vampire, asked Xander, "may I ask how you know this...creature?"

Xander shrugged, "he's got a thing for Buffy so he's been hanging around and helping out. He's actually saved my ass a couple of times. I don't like him, and I don't trust him as far as I could throw him, even with the chip, but he comes through when it matters. And right now, it matters."

Xander stepped between the two vampires, not the brightest move he could have made, but oh well. "What are you doing here anyway, Spike? Did you see what happened?"

"Dru showed up at my crypt tonight. Said the stars were singing about the Slayer, the Witch and the Key becoming Brides of the Dead. That their children would bring forth the End Times, for all of us. I came to warn the Slayer, but the place was trashed when I got here."

"Who is this Dru? And what is this about a chip?" LaCroix wanted to know.

"Spike's sire. She's nuttier than a fruit cake, but the visions she has are usually pretty accurate," Xander informed him, trying not to think about what Dru had seen.

LaCroix was seriously regretting getting out of bed by this point. "Do you mean to tell me that your sire is a Seer? A true Seer?"

"Yeah? What of it? Not her fault she's touched in the head. Angelus did that to her. Liked to break his toys, he did. 'Course that bitch Darla didn't help any."

LaCroix had gone from being infuriated to feeling slightly nauseous. "Give me your arm," he commanded Spike.

Spike shoved both hands into his pockets and took a step back, "don't think so, mate. Like my arms right where they are, thank you."

LaCroix growled, "I'm not going to hurt you, you imputant child. Now give me your arm!"

Spike was a master vampire in his own right, but not even he could refuse that command. He pushed up the sleeve on his black duster and shoved his arm into LaCroix's face.

LaCroix was surprisingly gentle when he sank his fangs into Spike's wrist. He only took a mouthful of blood, but that was all he needed. Spike's entire life played through LaCroix's mind in seconds, and LaCroix's fears were realized.

This child of the Aurelious line had been as Xander was now. One of the Golden. As was his sire, Drucilla. Neither should have been brought across as they were. Nor treated as they had been. For Drucilla, it was probably too late, but for Spike there might still time. The young vampire had retained a great deal of his humanity, for what reason LaCroix couldn't even begin to guess.

The transformation would be a painful one, but in the end, the young man once known as William, the Bloody Awful Poet, could take his place among the elite in the Community.

"I need to speak to your sire, William. Will you bring her to my house? It is the mansion known as the Rictor place. Xander and I shall meet you there," LaCroix said gently. Which to Spike, was actually more frightening than the anger LaCroix had shown him before.

"Why?"

"It is a long story, one that both of you need to hear, but not one that I'd care to repeat. It would be better to get everything out at once. I give you my word as an Elder that no harm shall come to either of you."

Spike nodded once, and turned to leave, stopping just as he reached the edge of the sidewalk. "I tried, you know. To bring her to the Elders. It was in Prague. I'd heard from a Borca demon about the Council of Elders and the Community. I knew that my Dark Princess should have been there, that she would have been safe. But then we ran into a mob. They almost killed Dru and we had to run. Been running ever since."

Spike vanished ito the night, leaving behind a grieving vampire and a seriously confused human. "What the Hell was that all about?"

LaCroix shook his head, "not now, Xander. I will explain everything once we are somewhere safe. Which is not standing out in the open with an untold number of zombies searching for us. We will return to my house and seal it off once Spike returns with his sire. I don't know much magic, but I do enough to buy us some time until help can arrive."

"Help?" Xander asked, as he took the hand LaCroix held out to him.

LaCroix laughed and leapt for the sky. "I know some people who are going to be more than eager to aid us in this fight. You might say they were born for the task. I just have to summon them."

"Oh. Do you need anything special for a summoning spell? We've got all kinds of stuff at the Magic Box."

LaCroix looked down at him curiously. "Summoning spell? No. I have a satellite phone, it's faster and much more reliable than spells."

Xander was almost disappointed.

*****

LaCroix completed his calls in a very short period of time. Istavan and Selim were already in route by the Council's orders. Ilia had apparently received the same vision as the mysterious Drucilla. She and Illvar were also enroute to Sunnydale, as the Council had unanimously decided that Xander was too important to risk leaving on the Hellmouth. And when LaCroix had informed Ilia about William and Drucilla... well... needless to say, she had more than a little angry. For one of Aurelius' line to have sired a Golden was unthinkable. And if Ilia had her way, and she always did, Drucilla and William would be cleansed of their taint post haste.

Thinking of William brought LaCroix back to something Xander had said earlier. Closing the satellite phone, he asked, "you said something earlier about a chip? What were you speaking of?"

Xander shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable, "the government got their hands on Spike and put a computer chip in his head. Now he can't hurt humans or he gets one hell of a headache. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Spike isn't running around killing people anymore, but what they did always seemed kinda wrong to me. And Spike's not the only one they got. There was a group here called the Initiative. They'd run around with all these high tech weapons capturing any non-human they could get their hands on so they could experiment on them." Xander snorted, "they called them hostiles, like who wouldn't be hostile being treated like that? Morons."

LaCroix was calm, very calm. He would not, under any circustances, lose his somewhat formidable temper. "And what became of this Initiative?"

Xander grinned, his whole face lighting up. "We kicked their asses and tore the place down. High tech ain't got shit on a good plan and some serious mojo from the wicked wiccan."