STARGATE: E. C. (THE SIDE STORIES)
Disclaimers: I do not own anything except for the plot. All characters belong to their respective owners except some original characters, items, and mythologies/histories created solely for this story. This is VERY loosely based off the anime cannon of “Guyver”, but with everything screwed around to my tastes so expect a few (make that a LOT) of timelines to be off kilter. A large portion of it is based off of the second live action movie called GUYVER: DARK HERO. As for Stargate’s timeline… well, they ain;t in this story yet, campers.
Author’s Note: These are companion short pieces to the main story arc of STARGATE: EXPERIMENTING CONTROL. This is my reply to those questions as to what happened to the lives of the people of Sunnydale in the aftermath of Xander’s exodus from the town. This may or may not include some SG1 story inserts at a later date.
By the way, while I am not entirely a Buffy or Willow hater, but considering the nature of the main story, I have taken them at their worst and turned that up several dozen notches to where they almost lost it in Season 6 of the TV series, in fact one of them DID lose it and it wasn’t pretty.
WELCOME TO THE HELLMOUTH ……RIPPER.
After placing several calls in his quest to help the young teen, Rupert Giles went upstairs and took out the chest he carried with him ever since he’d retired and reluctantly joined The Watchers Council.
He swore to never open it again, telling himself there were better ways to resolve matters without running the risk of mutually assured destruction. Unfortunately, a few acts of stupidity shared by all those around proved that otherwise. Taking a deep breath, he slowly eased the magically bound chest out of the closet. Running his hands over the intricate surface and began pressing a combination of runes arrayed all over its surface while muttering in Sumerian the complex spells that made up the password to unlock the chest’s bindings.
After what seemed like an hour, the chest shuddered open, its very contents glowing with a soft, eerie light. He took out a collapsible staff, a well tailored leather trench coat, one set of rings, a shrunken sword made out of bones, a pair of arm braces with hidden daggers per bracer, one studded earring, and oddly enough, an autographed Pink Floyd forty five LP. He chuckled, so that’s where it was, and he’d thought he’d lost the blasted thing. From a side compartment, he took out three vials containing amber liquid, with stoppers marking them red, green, and blue.
Touching the vials almost reverently, taking a calming breath, he uncorked the red one and drank its contents. Then he waited a full ten seconds before downing the green one; repeating the same process till he had imbibed all three. The Watcher doubled over, his mouth open in a silent scream of agony as the first potion unlocked his innermost psyche, his darker personality surging outwards, fighting for dominance with the current persona he had cultivated in its stead over the years. Then the second potion kicked in, forcibly merging the two fractured beings into one mind permanently while the last potion unblocked his magical potential. The result of the last potion de-aged him a few years as his magical core built itself back up to the large well it had once been before. The pain was almost too much that he almost passed out, when it was over, he lay gasping on the floor, laying still as his body stopped convulsing.
It was a while before he managed to sit up, his head reeling from the influx of information. It took a few minutes for him to realize he was sitting on the floor. He glanced at the now empty chest with its contents off to the side and he closed the lid, watching it shrink to the size of a box of matches now that it was empty. Grinning darkly to himself, he wearily prepared for bed, setting the alarm to wake him up earlier than normal.
Tomorrow was going to be the start of a brand new day, and Ripper couldn’t wait for it to begin.
Waking up a few hours after dawn with his body fully recharged from last night’s ordeal, he went to look for an open car rental agency and ordered up a vehicle better suited for travel than his - aptly described by Xander as a “junkyard classic” - Citroen. After browsing the selection of automobiles, he chose a recent model BMW, in black no less. He would rather much prefer an Aston Martin, but oh well, even if they had one on rental; he’d be hard pressed to explain where he’d gotten the cash to even afford one. Best not let anyone but a chosen select few find out he had a couple of Swiss accounts stashed away from his former heyday.
Speaking of which, he made another call while waiting for Xander to come over when he got back to the house. This time the call went out to one of his own accountants on retainer and ordered a substantial transfer to be held ready for delivery every so often to an as-yet to be named account that will be opening later on during the day. With that done, he loaded up his overnight bag into the boot and waited.
It wasn’t long till they headed out and he revealed himself to the young man, taking him to see his contacts. He first introduced Xander to one of the few remaining actual druids who knew more about shapeshifting and earth magic than any human alive, Sylvester Rockmore. With the druid’s help, they were able to create a personal glamour that would not only change his appearance from the outside, but the caster’s inner aura as well, since tracking spells always tracks by the individual’s aura or soul energy/frequency, they had to find a way of masking it entirely. In the end, they decided that directly changing the soul would be VERY risky, instead they had managed to subtly change the “frequency” of Xander’s soul. No one would be able to find him unless they really knew what to look for. And as time would pass as he continually immersed himself into his new persona that would differentiate him from the Xander Harris that most knew, the harder it would be to track him. However, the same cannot be said for his new identity. Unless told, no one would ever realize they were one and the same.
Now as he started calling himself Sean Barker -- a purely Xanderish move if Giles had any thought to it -- he then gave the young man a number to call, simply to state his new name into the phone and a bank passbook and card will be waiting for him within two hours at US 1st International and Trust.
When he saw that the young man was about to refuse, he stated, in no uncertain terms, that he will then cast a retrieval spell on said items to follow him no matter where he may go until he accepts.
“Remember,” Giles said with a smirk, reminding the young man of the trade off for his new identity. “While Xander Harris is now untraceable, Sean Barker is not.”
That seemed to shut the teen up as he glared in return.
“That’s for all the times I called you G-man, isn’t it?” Sean groaned, accepting the offered gift under protest.
The older man’s smirk just turned shark-like in reply.
Once the affairs of getting Xander’s new identity up and running were completed; both men parted ways, promising to keep in touch. Again, under protest coming from the younger man, if he wouldn’t, the Watcher would send a hex his way in reminder.
Almost a week had gone by since Buffy and Willow heard from both men after one was thrown out the library via Air Slayer and the other walked out in contempt did they notice something wrong. So confident that they were in the right that it took school gossip the next day to make them wonder what was amiss.
According to several wagging tongues, Xander’s house was broken into; his mother was left dazed and supposedly insane, ranting about magic and bad men with red glowing eyes. But word on his father, a known town drunk, said that he was beaten to within an inch of his life. The doctors said he would be spending the remainder of his days eating through a straw. Of the young man himself, he simply vanished. A few of the police on scene theorized he might have done it were it not for the bloody bandages found in his room and an ironclad testimony coming surprisingly in the form of Cordelia Chase. Neither girls paid heed to it; they were done with Xander’s drama. Then they entered the library and found someone waiting for them.
Rupert Giles stood before them, his back leaning against the desk facing the double doors, arms crossed over his chest, looking anything but amused at the sight of the two strolling in acting like they were without a care in the world.
Beside him, lay a small stack of books a certain redhead thought she’d have enough time to sneak them back in before they would be noticed missing. The formerly meek Watcher was pleased to note that one of them even started sweating.
“Good morning, Ladies.” He said as the doors to the library behind the girls swung shut.
A/N: Let your imagination run rampant as to what went on behind those closed doors, i might just add in what happened afterwards.
For those not yet in the know, the short ficlet above answers a few questions in the main story:
--Be kind, rewind.... er, I mean review.