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Nobody Gets Out Of Here Alive

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This story is No. 4 in the series "Scooby Gang Vamp-A-Pallooza". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Xander's decided to become proactive in neutralizing any actions the Council might take against the newest version of the Scooby Gang.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Xander-CenteredGreywizardFR1822,40201616,37522 Dec 117 Aug 14No

Chapter One

Disclaimer: They all belong to Joss and ME or JKR and her minions. They most definitely don't belong to me. Learn to live with that knowledge. Deal with it. I have.

Time Frame: I'm rearranging the canon timeline of the Harry Potter books here a bit, so this takes place subsequent to the events in the Ministry in volume five of the series, 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,' and several months after a very AU variation of the BtVS Season Two episode, 'Halloween' (see my story 'Halloween Sucks').

Spoilers: None intended, but if you don’t know what happened in either series up to this point, why are you reading this story?

Character Bashing: Well, Quentin Travers has never been one of my favorite characters, so I don't expect him to be portrayed in any sort of heroic role – and the members of the Order of the Phoenix make the Sunnydale PD look competent, so don't expect them to end up looking too good, either.

Feedback: Of course!

Archiving: Talk to me first, please.

Author’s Note 1: Many thanks to Bill Haden and Theo (Starway_Man) for beta-ing this story.

Author's Note 2: I'm playing around with the Harry Potter timeline to make it better match up with this series. I looked it up and it’s actually called "author fiat", so please – don’t flame with regard to that. I’m not the first, and I’m sure I won’t be the last, to do that sort of thing.

Author’s Note 3: As usual, "word" indicates speech, :: word :: indicates mental communication and { word } indicates a character's thoughts.

Author’s Note 4: Story #4 in my "Scooby Gang Vamp-A-Pallooza" series.

Author's Note 5: Story #22 In Christmas Challenge Fic-A-Thon.

Princes Crescent
Aldrington, Brighton
East Sussex, England

June 24, 1998

"Damn it, everyone and everything around here is just as stuffy and repressed as Giles ever was," Xander Harris muttered to himself as he pulled to the curb and parked the van he'd rented at Heathrow Airport, so that he could check out the villa-style house halfway down the street in which Quentin Travers' daughter and her family reputedly resided.

{ Although that's kinda to be expected, actually, since the entire Council seems to be made up of pompous, overbearing assholes just like he was, } Harris thought to himself as he casually evaluated the entire area for indications of both any type of security systems or signs that he'd been seen and identified as a potentially hostile intruder.

Seeing a dark-haired young woman who looked around seventeen or so leaving the house in question, the now-demonized, new and improved Scooby smiled and headed off down the street after his prey.

{ The kid's definitely a looker, } the Highlander Immortal/vampire hybrid who had dressed as a soldier named Rafferty last Halloween idly noted to himself, as he eyed the way the brunette's derrière waggled as she walked, even in the flats she was wearing. { Obviously, she didn't get those genes from Travers' branch of the family tree. }


Hyde Park

June 26, 1998

"Hey, Q-ball. Over here!"

The dark-haired American youth, who was apparently a member of the group who had kidnapped and were now holding his granddaughter hostage, actually had the *audacity* to wave at him and smile as well as addressing him in such a familiar and insulting manner, Quentin Travers noted with distaste as he shifted direction and headed over towards the bench near the Weeping Beech tree, on which the youth was sitting.

The mere sight of one of the blaggards who'd abducted his dear Hermione mingled with Quentin’s anxiety about her safety, his rage at the audacity of her kidnapper, and his general distaste for the Colonies and its boorish, uncultured inhabitants in general, (In truth he was still of the opinion that "Wogs started at Calais" was still spot-on.) with all of the varied emotions combining to bring his simmering rage to a boil and prompting Travers to very nearly lose control and physically assault the youth.

Barely restraining himself from backhanding the boy as he came to a stop in front of him, Quentin managed, barely, to speak in a controlled voice as he said, "If you value your life, you piece of pond scum, you will return my granddaughter to her home as quickly as possible, and then pray that I not have you skinned alive and rolled in salt, as preparation for the pain I intend to inflict on you and your cohorts for what you’ve done."

"Really? You know, threatening people you've never met before with serious injury really isn't the best way to start any sort of working relationship, Quentin old boy," the arrogant Colonial said, as he had the temerity to look up at the Head of the Watchers Council and smirk at him.

"Oh, by the way," the youth continued, blithely ignoring Travers' threats as thought they were mere ramblings, and indicating a silver amulet hanging around his neck, "I'm supposed to tell you that if you or any of your lackeys try to use magic against me, this handy-dandy little talisman here will instantly alert my boss about your attempt to do so, and he'll just disappear back to wherever it was he came from, and you'll never see your granddaughter again."

Gritting his teeth as he bottled up the rage he could feel welling up inside him, Quentin again forced himself to refrain from any impulsive and possibly disastrous actions, and he let out a long breath before saying, "I have here both the money and the documents your representative demanded," as he held up the small attaché case he was carrying.

"But before I hand them over, I need to know that my granddaughter is alive and has not been harmed," Travers added with a glare that, in his mind, should have reduced the other to a handful of ashes.

Something about his manner must have finally alerted whatever rudimentary survival instincts the boy possessed, though, since he straightened up and rose to his feet after hearing Travers' demand.

"Okay, that's reasonable enough," the thrice-damned kidnapper agreed. "Follow me," he then directed as he turned and began heading in the general direction of The Lanesborough Hotel.

"But your minions stay here," the youth added, as he paused and looked back over his shoulder at the Council Head.

"What are you talking about?" Travers half-snarled. "You directed me to come alone, and I did!"

"Well, then either you’re a liar, or one of your associates is trying to get your granddaughter killed, or else your minions don't know how to follow orders – because I can count at least four of your flunkies within forty meters of us, right now," the boy answered, his eyes narrowing to resemble flecks of stone.

"There's that blonde woman with the stroller over there," he pointed out a young woman pushing a baby pram off to their right, "the old guy with the beret three benches down from us," he indicated a grey-haired and dark-skinned, elderly man huddled on a bench several dozen yards down the walkway, "and finally, there's the two lovebirds right over there who're trying real hard not to look like they're watching the two dogs running around the grass behind us and not the two of us," Harris completed his identification of the Council field agents surrounding them.

"Either they stay here, and don't follow us, old man, or you can forget about ever seeing your granddaughter again," he concluded. "The next move's yours."

Cursing silently to himself yet again, Travers angrily gave the hand signal ordering the agents to stay where they were as he said, "Very well. Let's go."

"I knew you'd see things my way," the youth gave Travers another of his arrogant smiles before resuming his walk towards the park's exit.

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