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The Powers Screw Up...Again....

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Summary: The PTB, sick of Xander screwing up their plans, decide to get rid of him and dump him in a place they figure he won't do any damage...no ships yet...

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Marvel Universe > X-MenTAOFR181129,02452397120,38927 Jun 1113 Aug 12No

Nope, not in Kansas anymore

Disclaimer: Don’t own BTVS or the X-Men. Joss and Marvel do.

Author’s Notes: Yep, another chapter. Keep in mind that I’m not taking this fic too seriously, I kind of threw this chapter (and the first one for that matter) together pretty quickly out of boredom and because I’m taking a tiny break from my “War of Angels” fic today. Again, this is not my best work, but I’m just having fun here and that damn “X-Men: First Class” bunny is still alive. Oh...and while we're at it...I still blame Semet for this...and I did rip off their idea for Xander's "mindscape" a little bit. Hope you don't mind.



The first thing Xander was aware of was the smell of bacon tickling his nostrils, the next thing was the fact that he was in bed…a very comfortable bed.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he heard someone say. The voice sounded familiar…it was probably one of the new Slayers, bothering him to fix the hot water tank again.

“Go ‘way,” he said, pulling the pillow over his eye to keep the sunlight out. “Had a really fucked up dream.”

“Really? How bad was it?”

“Well, I had this dream I was in Africa with Buffy and Dawn, some crazed warlord got a magical boost. I played suicide hero and took him out, found myself in some weird white dimensional thingy talking to Whistler, and then I ended up talking to a bunch of mutants from a comic book series I used to read as a kid, but they were different.”

“Comic Books?” The woman’s voice seemed to be a little surprised. “About us?”

That suddenly snapped Xander back to reality and he bolted upright…only to slam his head into an overhanging bookshelf above the bed. “Wha-OW!” He dropped back on the bed, clutching his head.

“’Ow’ indeed, my strange friend,” he heard the voice of the red skinned ‘demon’ with the funky European accent say. Xander opened and blinked his eye a couple times before rubbing it. When his vision cleared up, he saw the red-skinned demon shaking his head and handing him a cup of coffee. “Here,” the demon…no, Xander mentally corrected himself…mutant said, “this should help you vake up.”

“Thanks,” Xander said as he carefully raised himself up again, avoiding the overhanging bookshelf, to take the offered coffee. He took a sip and then looked up to see Mystique and Emma Frost there at the foot of the bed.

Okay…this is not a dream. Or if it is, it’s a fucked up one.

“No, Xander,” Emma said, “it’s not a dream.” Was he imagining things or was there a grin on her face.

“Um, okay…Ms. Frost…if that’s who you truly are, you might not want to get in my head right now,” he said.

“Actually,” the blonde telepath replied, “those thoughts were loud enough that you might as well have been shouting them at me. As for your,” she paused for a moment, trying to think of an apt description, “unique mental defense, we’ve reached an understanding. I stay outside her territory, we’ll be fine.”

“Her?” This was from Mystique.

“Weird story,” Xander said.

The blue-skinned shape-shifter grinned at him. “Oh really? It sounds like it might be a long and worthwhile story.”

Xander shrugged. “Not really, I got possessed by some primal Hyena spirit awhile back when I was in high school, started to turn into some strange hyena like creature, but the curse was broken, I was saved, but some of the spirit’s essence still lingers.”

“Okay, maybe not as long as I thought,“ Mystique muttered.

Xander gulped down the rest of his coffee and handed the glass back to the red-skinned mutant. “Thanks…and no offense, but is your name Kurt by chance?”

“No,” the red mutant replied, shaking his head, “it’s Azazel.”

Xander extended his hand to the mutant who hesitantly shook his hand. “Good to meet you Azazel, I’m Xander.”

“And you likewise,” Azazel replied, “You’re one of the few humans who doesn’t seem disturbed by my appearance.”

“Trust me, big guy, I’ve seen stuff that makes you look ordinary.”

“Out of curiosity, who is this ‘Kurt’ you mentioned?”

Xander was about to answer, but Emma suddenly cut him off. “We have time for a friendly chat later,” she said coldly, though the slight shake of her head and alarm in her eyes told Xander that it would be best not to answer the question. “Magneto wants to talk to him first.”

Azazel nodded and, in puff of red-smoke, vanished along with the coffee cup, leaving the faint smell of sulfur and brimstone in the room.

“Okay,” Xander said, pointing at the dissipating smoke, “that was fucking awesome.”

“Language, young man,” Mystique said, giving Xander a small grin.

“Hey, it was…seriously,” Xander said. “Wait a second, weren’t you pissed at me for calling you a demon?”

“Still am,” Mystique replied, but she was still grinning at him, “but from what I’ve heard, you got some weird stories to tell and I wanna’ hear ‘em.”

“As do I,” said a new voice. Xander and both women looked up to see the man who called himself Magneto. “Because I’m hoping what you have to tell me will help me with a decision.”

Maybe it was the way the man spoke, but Xander could sense the tension suddenly rising in the room and he had a sick feeling what the man meant. “Why do I get this awful feeling that my life suddenly hangs in the balance?” he asked.

Erik Lehnsherr smiled at the younger man, but it didn’t reach his eyes that stared at Xander, cold and calculating. “A very astute perception,” he said. Then he looked over at Mystique. “Leave us.” Though spoken softly, it was clearly an order.

“Oh, c’mon Erik, I wanna’ hear this!” Mystique then backed away when Erik glared at her. “Okay…fine…just don’t kill him right away.”

“Hey,” Xander snapped, “I’m still in the room and I would prefer if there were no Xander killing.”

“Are you afraid to die?” This question came from Emma.

“Well, no, but it’s just so final,” Xander mock whined while looking about the room for whatever he could use as a weapon.

However, much to Xander’s surprise (and chagrin), Eric/Magneto actually gave him a faint smile and nodded approvingly. “Interesting approach, Xander. Trying to stall for time while trying to figure a way out. I suppose you were thinking of using that lamp on me.”

“Well, yeah,” Xander admitted, “but if you really are Magneto, you’d probably stop it from hitting you because it’s got metal in it and then you’d use it against me.”

“Wow, Erik,” Mystique chuckled, “it’s like he knows you.”

“Raven, not now.”

Mystique shrugged and then stated to saunter out of the room, but paused in the doorway to look over her shoulder. “Hopefully, Xander, he won’t have to kill you, because I really want to hear about the comic book thing.” She then walked out of the room , leaving Xander alone with Magneto and Emma.

For a few seconds, no one said anything until Magneto, with a wave of his hand, closed the door to the room. “Now,” he said, “we need to have a chat. First off…comic books?”

“Um, yeah,” Xander said. “You’re not going to believe this…but where I’m from, you, Emma here, and the rest of the crew…you’re not real. You’re fictional characters and…no offense…you’re a lot older. Hell, in the movies you’re like in your 60s or early 70s.” Then he quickly added, “But you’re in great shape though.”

Magneto seemed taken aback by that revelation. “Movies,” he said in disbelief, “they made movies about us?” He looked over at Emma who he knew was using her mental powers to see if Xander was telling the truth and his disbelief gave way to shock as she nodded, confirming that this “Xander” was telling the truth. However, he was able to maintain some composure as he asked his next question. “So, what do you know about me, exactly?”

“Keep in mind, I’m drawing on knowledge of comics and movies, but the general consensus was that you survived the concentration camps in the second World War. In the first movie, they had a historical flashback scene where you were about ten or eleven years old when your family was taken to the camps.” Xander stopped when he saw a dark expression on Magneto’s face. “Oh god…you were there…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“My past is none of your concern.”

“Actually,” Xander said, “it is…if I’m where I think I am. Look, before we continue this interrogation, I’m curious. If you’re Magneto, and I’m thrown in a ‘verse where people like are real, why aren’t you an old man? How old are you, exactly?”

Again, Magneto was taken off guard. “I will be thirty-three in March,” he said.

“Wait, hold up, you’re thirty-two? But you were kid in the camps…and if you were ten or eleven….” Xander did the math in his head and swore, shaking his head as he sat up straight in the bed. “Hold on…what year is it?”

“It’s 1962, December 15th.”

“Oh god…” Xander sagged back on to the bed. “I’m gonna’ kill him.”

“Kill who?” Emma asked.

“Never mind,” Xander said. “Look, this is really messed up. Ms. Frost, you’re a powerful telepath, right? To save us the trouble, can’t you just…you know…look deep into my mind or something and drag him with you?”

Emma raised an eyebrow. This was the first time someone actually asked her to literally invade their mind. “What about your ‘defense’.”

“I’m inviting you two to enter my mind, so I think she’ll behave.”

Emma looked over at Magneto who nodded. Then she reached out touched the side of Xander’s head. “Okay,” she said, “there might be a bit of a rush.”

Then the world around Xander, Emma, and Magneto seemed to vanish in a flash of bright light. When the light died down, the three of them found themselves standing in a library that Xander found all too familiar.

“So,” Emma said as she reached over and picked up a book off the table, “this is what your subconscious mindscape looks like?”

A soft yip echoed through the library and all three turned to see a book cage with a hyena lying there, eyes half-open, letting everyone know that she was still watching them.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the hyena,” Emma chuckled.

Magneto, on the other hand, walked through various sections of the library that he deduced represented various memories and knowledge. He noticed a lot of books on the occult, quite a few on military history and warfare, and a lot of miscellaneous subjects, most of them dealing with survival. “I’m not a telepath,” he said to Emma, “but is a normal human supposed to have something like this?”

“No,” Emma replied, looking at crossbow that was sitting on the table. “I would go far as to say this Xander Harris isn’t exactly a normal human.”

“This Xander Harris is here in the same room,” Xander snapped as he walked towards the main doors to the library.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said, “it’s just this place…it looks like a school library.”

“It was a school library,” Xander replied, “until we blew up the school.” He looked around the room, a nostalgic look on his face. “In the middle of Hell unleashed, this was probably one of the few places I felt safe.”

“Wait, you blew up your school?”

“Trust me, we had good reason.” Xander opened the main doors to the library to reveal a glowing blue portal of energy. “So, you ready for the tour?”

Emma walked up to him, Magneto quietly following behind her, a curious look on his face as he looked at one of the demonology books he had seen. “Are you sure you want to do this, Xander?”

“Look…we could do this the hard way where you interrogate me for several hours before Mags over there decides to ‘kill the flatscan’ or we do it this way and, hopefully, this will answer most of your questions.” He then gave Emma a sad smile. “Besides, he would have ordered you to force your way into my mind anyway and I’m sure that even the Hyena here couldn’t hold you off forever.”

Emma glanced over at Magneto who seemed lost in thought for a moment before nodding in agreement.

“He’s right,” Magneto admitted, “I would have at some point.” He then looked back at Xander and smiled approvingly. “However, I get the feeling that your story will be interesting indeed.”

Xander gave the other man an evil grin. “That, Mr. Master of Magnetism, is an understatement.” He threw the doors of the library wide open and gestured at the pulsating blue light. “So…shall we?” And then the blue light rushed in around them, replaying the memories and history of one Alexander Harris.
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