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I Definitely Khan

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Summary: Xander has to deal with the after-effects of the costume he wore on Halloween.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Star Trek > Star Trek - The Original SeriesGreywizardFR1523,12845811,98716 Aug 125 Aug 13No

Chapter One

Disclaimer: They all belong to Crack-Head Joss and ME, or to Paramount Pictures, or whoever might own the rights, now. Deal with it. I have.

Time Frame: Begins at Season Two's episode, 'Halloween,' and goes significantly off the track afterwards.

Spoilers: None. But if you don't know what happened up to this point, why are you reading this story?

Character Bashing: The usual suspects, of course.

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

Author's Note 3: This is story #16 for the 2012 August Fic-A-Day Challenge.


Harris residence
Sunnydale, CA

October 31, 1997
Very late evening

Xander Harris looked dispassionately into the living room and tried to summon up some sort of emotional reaction to the sight of his parents' now approximately room-temperature bodies, as they lay on the beer-stained carpet.

Even after a full minute's contemplation, though, the young man was unable to find anything within his psyche other than mild annoyance over the inconvenience he was going to experience, cleaning up the mess and disposing of the corpses.

{ While I appreciate that *he* thought I was capable of handling things by myself, and that I didn't need anyone overseeing my work, it would have been nice if *he* had thought to dispose of the bodies rather than leaving me to clean up after him, } Xander reflected as he picked up his jacket and a baseball cap and headed out the back door, on his way to the nearest hardware store.

As he headed out of the house, he noticed that the light on Willow's bedroom was still lit, so he detoured over to the Rosenberg's front door, and rang the bell. After all, it wasn't as though he had to worry about anyone finding the bodies tonight.

"It's me, Wills," he called out, when he heard the soft pad of footsteps approach the door.

The curtain covering the reinforced glass window inset into the front door was pushed aside and his childhood friend – and now someone potentially much more to him – looked out for a moment. Then the curtain quickly slipped back into place and the door carefully pulled open while Willow remained safely inside the threshold of the house.

"Do you remember –?" the redhead hesitantly began, before a look of strength and resolution slipped across her face, and she lifted her head up to look him directly in the eye, even as she instinctively stood straighter.

"Everything," Xander nodded in response to her only half-asked question. "You obviously do, too."

"Yeah," the redhead nodded, then added, as she stepped back from the door in an unspoken invitation, "We should talk. About everything. Buffy's upstairs my Ka-er-Xander."

"That's why I'm here," the dark-haired youth, who was no longer the same Alexander Lavelle Harris that he'd been when the evening had begun, also nodded his head in agreement.


It had started out simply enough: get to the new costume shop in town, grab something to wear, take the kids that that little tyrant, Snyder, had foisted on them out for candy collection, bring them back to the school, then retire to Buffy's place for a movie marathon and a night of relaxation.

The first part had been easy enough to accomplish.

They'd moseyed on over to the new place on Main Street, 'Ethan's Costume Shop,' and they'd followed the little troll's directions to dress according to a theme – Star Trek: The Original Series, in their particular case. (And how he'd silently rejoiced in his mind, and thanked whatever particular deity might have been responsible for them getting *that* theme!)

It had been while they were discussing which characters they'd go as, that Xander had realized that, while they'd been instructed to dress as characters from the show, there really hadn't been any additional instructions specifying exactly *which* characters they were restricted to dressing up as.

Thus, after a short discussion with the store owner, Xander had agreed that dressing as any of the Enterprise's typical officers or crew was simply "bending his neck to accept the metaphorical slave collar worn by all of those officious prigs," as Ethan had so eloquently put it.

It was then that the rebellious youth had had the inspiration of dressing as the one of most memorable characters he'd ever seen on the show. And all it had required was his wearing a simple red pullover, like the one he remembered the man wearing while dining with Captain Kirk, plus the Starfleet insignia he'd purchased from Ethan. Oh, and a small sheet of paper bearing the two quotes which had so eloquently summarized the man's character: "It is better to Rule in Hell, than Serve in Heaven," and "From Hell's heart, I stab at thee... For hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee..."

Once she'd recognized exactly who it was Xander had chosen to dress as, Willow had quite enthusiastically thrown herself in the spirit of things, and she'd quickly grabbed the standard red mini-skirt uniform like the one just about all of Starfleet's female members wore from the racks, declaring that she would dress as the woman who had aided him in his attempted hijacking of the ship, and then later accompanied him into his second exile.

For her part, Buffy had agreed to dress as one of Xander's character's unidentified followers, who had also been rescued from the S. S. Botany Bay, since that meant that all she needed to purchase was a small metallic identification bracelet they'd decided to declare was their standard form of I.D.

And so it was that, as a result of an at least *slightly*demented chaos mage's spell, Khan Noonien Singh, Marla McGivers Singh and Anya Ericsson found themselves walking the streets of a quaint little twentieth-century town called Sunnydale.

Less than ten years later, the equivalent of the Eugenics Wars had begun.



Author's Note: Not to worry, people – this is one plot bunny that I'll be following up on in the future. Again, I just don't know exactly when that might be.
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