Sequel to “Special Agent Harris, NCIS”
Disclaimer: BtVS and NCIS belong to Whedon and Bellisario and respective companies. I earn nothing but sweet, sweet reviews.
Synopsis: Rupert Giles lent money to a young man who needed a little push in the right direction. Xander Harris attended college, finished with a degree in criminology, and left Sunnydale in the capable hands of Faith and Angel. Willow Rosenberg and Tara McClay chose to stay in Cleveland, while Giles, Dawn and Spike have settled in England. After a stint at FLETC, a friend named Riley Finn recommended him to NCIS in Washington D.C., where he is now a special agent, working under Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
Chapter One: Invitations
Follows the events of previous story.The occasion is piled high with difficulty. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.
A. LincolnAnd so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate.
Xander Harris had woken up that morning in a tizzy. He was sure that something was missing and he had to find it. He rushed around the house, opening closet doors, drawers and kitchen cabinets, counting the knives and axes in the box by his bed. It was when he saw the stash of blood in his refrigerator that he realized what the feeling meant: Dracula was gone.
He sat down heavily on the couch.
Tony was still in the hospital, kept overnight for observation. He was probably awake by now, flirting with the nurses and demanding to be checked out. Abby had sent him a text message the evening before, saying she was sleeping over at Kate’s. They both had a scare and he didn’t know who needed reassurance more. At this hour, Gibbs was probably sleeping off the bourbon, and Ducky was probably having breakfast with his mother. Meanwhile, he was in his living room, having a nervous breakdown.
His batphone rang, making him jump. He ran to his room and grabbed it from beneath his pillow. “Hello?” He answered breathlessly.
“Spike’s driving me insane!” Dawn practically shouted at him.
Xander chuckled. “What’s he done now?”
“He threatened to eviscerate my Ethics prof when I flunked a test. I almost got kicked out,” Dawn complained. “I’m serious, Xander. I am this
close to throwing fireballs. This stalker thing was cute when I was fourteen, but now I need for you to take him far, far away, so he can stop ruining my life. It’s bad enough he scares the shit out of any boy who even looks
Xander’s eyebrows rose. It did sound more serious than usual. “What did Giles say?”
“Dad says he’ll pay for the ticket to Timbuktu or wherever, but I need for you to talk Spike into leaving.”
Dawn peeked out her dorm window, down at the first floor. She narrowed her eyes at the glow of ember. “He’s outside my window. Spike, Xander wants to talk to you,” she called out, trusting his vamp hearing to pick it up. The ember fell to the ground and was snuffed out by someone’s boot.
Spike slunk through the hallway of the Garden Quad, dragging his feet. God he was so pathetic, getting a scolding from Xander bloody Harris. He was only trying to look after his Nibblet. He didn’t even flash fang at that stupid poofter of a prof.
When he reached Dawn’s room, she handed him the phone, then closed the door in his face. Spike snarled soundlessly in her direction. “What?” He growled out at Harris.
“Dawn really wants you to go?”
“Like that matters,” Spike retorted. “I’ll be here til she’s old and grey, Harris. I made that promise.” He didn’t speak her name; he never spoke her name.
Xander didn’t have that problem. “I know that. And she knows it too. But if she believes you’re just staying for Buffy’s sake, then you being there just reminds her of what she’s lost,” Xander said. He was standing by the wall of photographs, looking at one with Dawn and Buffy on either side of Joyce.
“And you think the Watcher doesn’t?” Spike shot back. “Look, I know I messed up with this professor, but she needs me.”
“Does she really, Spike?” Xander asked wearily. “Dawn’s eighteen. She’s trying to be an adult, living a continent away from the Hellmouth. Right now, she’s only in danger of gaining the freshman fifteen and flunking math or something. Or at the most, some drunken fratboy flirtation. She’ll never be able to trust herself if you don’t trust her to be on her own.”
trust her. But if something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself,” Spike said softly.
Xander fell silent before continuing, “If something happens to her, you can blame me.
Giles said that area’s pretty clean of oogly-booglies, coz it was Watcher territory. And you can only do so much against any human predators.” Xander took a deep breath. “You just remind her of the dark, Spike. And everything that dwells there.”
He waited for a second, but there was nothing, not even the sound of someone’s breath. But then vampires did not breathe. “Just come here, Spike. Take Giles’ money and come to D.C. Please?”
And then he heard the dial tone.
When Dawn opened the door—to berate Spike for racking up international minutes on her cell—there was no one there. Her phone was lying on the ground.
“Welcome to NCIS, Special Agent McGee,” Tom Morrow said, extending a hand to the young man. “You’ve come very well-recommended.”
Timothy McGee flushed with pride, accepting the handshake. “Thank you, sir.”
He walked down the stairs a little unsteadily. When he got to the bullpen, he saw that the furthest desk on the right had been cleared. His stomach was churning and he felt lightheaded. But in a good way.
“Welcome to hell, probie,” Tony said, grinning maniacally, but he wasn’t even fazed. Kate rolled her eyes at the other agent and gave him a supportive smile. Xander slapped his arm and invited him out to celebrate. And Agent Gibbs nodded
This was what he had dreamed about for the longest time. He was now a field agent with his own badge and gun, and he’d solve crimes and arrest the bad guys. Someday, he’d even be a hero.
The feeling lasted just until they got called to work a case.
He almost vomited on the victim. If Xander hadn’t hustled him out of the room, and shoved a bag at him, he’d have spewed all over the late Ensign Veracruz, contaminating whatever evidence Tony and Kate were gathering.
“It’s a little different when you see them up close,” Xander said sympathetically, after bringing him a bottle of water to clean his mouth. They were outside the tidy white house, standing by the car.
“I can smell and taste ‘em, too,” McGee mumbled. “Maybe I’m not ready for this.”
“Dude, if I made it, so will you,” the younger man reassured him. “Just concentrate on getting the job done.”
“Still concentrating?” Gibbs asked sarcastically from the doorway. “Get those measurements done, McGee. Harris, get the witness statement.”
“Yes, boss,” Xander said, pulling out his notepad and heading to the old lady standing in front of the police officer. She was carrying a cat and it turned baleful green eyes onto him. “Nice kitty,” he murmured under his breath. “Hi. I’m Special Agent Harris, NCIS. I’d like to ask you a few questions…”
McGee took a deep breath before heading inside the house again. It wasn’t any easier the second time around. The body had been at it for awhile, and there were creatures
feeding on the exposed flesh.
Fortunately, Tony’s “green” jokes were excellent distractions. They helped him focus on something else long enough to keep the contents of his stomach to himself.
“Hey, Shrek, bag this, will you?”
There was no warning. One evening, Spike just showed up on Xander’s doorstep. It was late, past eleven. He had only just gotten home maybe five minutes before. They were working a hot case, and he and Tony stayed late handling paperwork and calling up some angry people. He was tired, more than ready to sleep, when somebody knocked.
He didn’t even think. He opened the door, and jumped back. Vampire,
his senses screamed, his hand grabbing for his stake, even as he recognized the bleached hair and the black leather duster. He cleared his throat, and tried to calm his heartbeat down. “Jeez, Spike.”
Spike smirked at the boy’s reaction. Well, he had to get his jollies somewhere. “You inviting me in, Harris?”
Xander rolled his eyes. “Come in,” he said resignedly. “So you came after all. How long will you stay?”
Spike shrugged. He noticed—and ignored—the strange feeling as he passed the doorway, a hint of magic in the air. “Depends. Why?”
“Because I’d have to ask Penny for another spelled key,” Xander explained, running a hand through his hair, his mind going a mile a minute. “Well, the guest room’s ready. And there are a few pints in the fridge. I’m not sure how to tell if they’re expired or something.”
“Why would you have blood?” Spike asked, before taking a deep breath. The smells—a mixture of sawdust and sunlight, and a certain annoying, irritatingly famous vampire—answered his question. His eyes turned yellow briefly, before returning to blue. "That damn gypsy hurt you?"
"No,” Xander said, startled. “How did you… never mind. He helped me actually."
Spike snorted. "For a price, I suppose."
"Well he hasn't been by to collect. Not yet anyway," Xander muttered under his breath.
"Leave it to me," Spike said. “I’ll deal with the bugger.”
Xander looked at him suspiciously. "And why would I do that?"
"Well you're gonna feed me, aren't you? Keep me in Weetabix and pig's blood and my liquor? I have my needs." Spike eyed him wickedly, but he ignored the vampire’s innuendo.
"You'd probably be more useful heading back to Sunnydale. Or maybe in Cleveland with the girls. There's not much here to fight," Xander said, sitting on the arm of the couch.
Spike's mouth tightened. He just got here and already… "So you're giving me the shove, too?" Dawn was still at St. John’s College in Oxford. He had left her without a word, wanting to hurt her by his absence, though she might even be glad about it. How the mighty have fallen.
Xander looked at the vampire’s flat expression and was instantly repentant. "Actually, I think I'd better keep an eye on you. I don't trust you anywhere near a Hellmouth."
Spike smiled slightly. "That's right, pet. I'm still evil, I am." Then he caught sight of the wall and fell silent.
Xander took a step to stand beside him, just looking at the pictures. “I never did get any of yours,” he mumbled. “Cordy sent one of Angel’s, but it was too blurred.”
Spike’s eyes moved from the one of Buffy, Dawn and Joyce to a frazzled Wesley holding a baby. “That my nephew?”
“Uh, Connor, yeah. Everybody spoils him rotten. He’d be three now. Cordy sends photos but they’re on my computer,” Xander replied.
Spike just nodded. “So, this my room?” He said abruptly, opening the guest room door. Not waiting for an answer, he slammed it shut behind him.
Xander scratched the back of his neck, and just looked at the closed door. This was just going to go horribly wrong and he knew it.
Her school records still marked her as a Summers. Giles had respected her decision to keep her surname in memory of her mother and sister, but Dawn did not need to remember. She was
the reminder: Buffy’s blood ran in her veins, and the scars on her stomach had yet to fade even years after. She knew Giles—dad, as she now thought of him—sometimes looked at her and found Buffy in a phrase or a gesture. And it hurt him, and it hurt her. But they could not let each other go.
And somehow they had built a life together, though dad and Spike had never gotten along.
the moment Spike left. The itch at the back of her neck disappeared. When she looked out her dorm window in the middle of the night, there was nothing but darkness. Having Spike around was like walking a particularly vicious dog; you get pulled in different directions, and no one dared come close. She should be relieved he was gone. But why did the night suddenly feel so empty?
“You know, you never did invite me over,” Tony said from out of the blue one afternoon, while they were waiting for Abby’s ballistic results. “How about we hold the next movie night at your place, Xander?”
“Ooh! Movie night!” Abby said in delight.”Can I come, too?”
“We should invite everyone,” Tony teased. “Kate, and Ducky, and Gibbs…”
“Gibbs would never come to a movie night,” Xander scoffed. He knew the older man had no use for anything resembling pop culture.
“Shows what you know, Harris,” Tony told him smugly. “I managed to make him watch Air Force One
a couple of years back. And we watched Apocalypse Now
when I stayed over at his place.”
“He let you stay
with him?” Xander shook his head; Gibbs was one of the most closed off people he knew. “He must really like you, Tony.” Which was exactly what the other agent wanted to hear; Tony’s grin stretched wide as a Cheshire cat’s.
“Well, he likes me,
too,” Abby interrupted, showing them the slides from the microscope, and proving the bullet did not match their suspect’s gun. “So between the two of us, we could have him over at your place this Friday night. I’ll bring Bert,” she said before dancing away again.
“Who’s Bert?” Xander asked in an undertone.
“You’ll uh, hear about it soon enough,” Tony said with a laugh. “So I’m thinking should we go for some classic action stuff, or would you prefer horror? There’s a new vampire movie out.”
Xander paled. He had forgotten all about the undead guy at his place. “Wait. I-I don’t think I can do Friday…”
“Why not?” Tony wagged his eyebrows suggestively. “You got a hot date?”
“No,” Xander denied, “but I have to clear it with my roommate first.”
Abby snuck up on them again. “You never told me you had a roommate, Xander!”
“Oh, I-I knew him in high school. He just needed a place to crash for a while,” he babbled nervously.
“Well then it’s the perfect time to meet him. In fact, we should hold a welcoming party. You buy the chips while I bring some CDs,” Abby said excitedly. She loved an excuse to party. “I’ll tell Kate and McGee, you guys get Gibbs and Ducky. And Jimmy, too. So what kind of music does your roommate like?”
Xander just groaned.
“You want me to what?”
“Act human for one night,” Xander said calmly. “And be convincing, okay? If they spot something off about you, they won’t stop until they know everything.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “People will believe what they want to.”
Xander sighed. “Let’s just say that outside Sunnydale, some people actually put two and two together…”
“And get four, not twenty-two. They won’t look at some pale guy and immediately come up with vampire.”
Xander thought of Abby. “Wanna bet? Look, it’s no big deal. Just don’t let them feel your lack of pulse, and don’t talk about your former victims.”
Spike looked at him with derision. “I’m not the one who keeps his axe by the door, you ninny.”
“Oh,” Xander said, blinking. “Oh! Right! And I gotta warn the neighbors not to drop by.”
Spike snorted. He sauntered to the fridge and opened it. True to his word, Xander brought home bags of human blood—often discards from a nearby hospital. “Guess I should finish these, then, before anyone wanders in for a look-see.” He looked at Xander, who was collecting knives from the various places he had stashed them. “So what happens if they find out?”
Xander straightened and caught his gaze. “I don’t know, Spike. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”
A/N: Thanks for your patience. Spike made an unexpected appearance, partly inspired by the fanart made by Methos for his story “Life after Slayage.” (Chapter 25 of ‘Fanart for my Favorite Stories’ by Methos.) Changed 'Jarhead' to 'Dogfight', thanks to Walegrin for the heads-up. I have no idea what will happen next…