Author: Tohonomike email@example.com
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners...it will start off with the Joss/ME characters, and any other characters are clearly not mine. NO money is involved.
Rating: Maybe an “R” eventually, but you readers can let me know later.
Summary: This is the first of up to one hundred parts of Xander Hog Day. Wish me luck.
Author’s Note: This is my first tthfanfic posting. I hope some of you enjoy it. Feel free to give feedback on the story, but your comments must be PG-13 or gentler.
His Day goes from 2:30 PM Friday to 2:30 PM: Why? The chaos spell goes off at about 6 PM so I left enough time before he needs to get to school for the candy escort at 4-ish...
My name is Alexander Harris, and while some people think that they’ve had a long day…I’ve had a long couple of years crammed into one day. Let me explain, it all started a day or so before Halloween, and I was going to roll over to sleep when I decided to watch television before going to school. Ground Hog Day was the movie on that morning. It established the foundation for my lengthy day to come. I’d not been planning to dress up, but when I did…the pre-Halloween Harris Curse kicked in with a vengeance.
SHS The Day Before The Long Day, October 30th, 1997
The day started out normally, meeting up with the girls, having Buffy scare Larry away from beating me up yet again, and going through the day semi-obliviously. Heading over to the costume shop, I had already decided upon a couple of possibilities, but when I saw the stuffed rodent and a cheap suit, I chose Door Number Two, though I bought the toy gun anyway in case I backslid. I bought a large empty tome with the label My Journal. Inspired, as Rupert would say, I had to add it to the pile. The girls looked strangely at me, as you’d expect, but I refused to let them in on my surprise.
SHS The First October 31st, 1997
As I sat in the Library at two-thirty, making final additions to my costume and the book, I now know the premonition I felt was just that. I immediately closed my eyes to avoid a feeling of impending vertigo. In retrospect, donning a costume imbued with chaos magic directly over the Hell Mouth, declaring it a done deal, should clue us all in, but I just had to add to the journal:
My Journal: The Diary of Experiences and Knowledge of Alexander LaVelle Harris on His Repetition of Time Until He Figured It Out For Himself.
At the time, I thought I was witty, as Phil might have felt a little more connected on his path if he’d had *something* changing with him.
Around three-thirty, I felt another shiver as I passed by the costume shop on the way to Buffy’s house. Yeah, I know, why go there only to walk back? At the time, I still couldn’t appreciate an intellectual conversation with Rupert, or often enjoy a book without illustration, truth be told.
That afternoon, rodent and book in arm, I knocked on the door of the Summers house. Buffy answered the door, unable to guess what I was. Even Willow took a minute, asking who my rat was. I corrected her mistake, telling her his name is Phil, as is mine. She jumped gleefully as she finally caught on, turning triumphantly to Buffy, “He’s Phil the Weatherman from Groundhog Day…you know, the Bill Murray movie he likes.”
“Oh,” Buffy said, smiling as she remembered the scene where he drives the gopher into the quarry. “The award for most original costume, I guess, goes to Xander.”
I know what you’re thinking…so far, so good. But once we guided our groups of children trick or treating, we were heading the Library when Ethan’s damnable spell took effect, we became our costumes. Yes, that’s right…Willow became a ghost of the ‘interestingly’ clad version of herself Buffy’d tried to debut her as…Buffy became a clueless 1775 young noblewoman…and I became…Phil Connor from Groundhog Day. That’s right, as terror began to spread across the city, I became a meteorologist with a groundhog companion.
Unfortunately, I had no clue as to what was going on, and after several hours of dodging monsters and keeping relatively safe, the spell wore off. It was around midnight by the time I got to the Library to find a grieving Willow and Giles. Rupert had not managed to figure out Ethan’s participation that go around, and his slayer died at the hands of William the Bloody. Angel had been rendered into dust particles trying to save her. Willow had gone into shock until the spell broke. Cordelia in her cat costume was mauled in a dog attack, and Amy Madison raped by pirates. Hundreds were dead, or badly hurt. My book seemed to stay magicked, and the groundhog remained real. Hmmmm.
That day matched the loss of Jesse when I staked him: it sucked beyond belief. Angel, whom I resented and disliked, had my respect for dying to save Buffy, however it ended. And I vowed, yes, again atop a Hell Mouth, that I’d not willingly let such happen again. I *meant* to anybody else, but Fate took it literally.
I changed out of my clothes when I snuck into the house, grabbed a duffle of clothes and cached items, then headed over to Angel’s with the intention of moving in. I felt that I needed to get out of the hellhole of a home permanently.
I opened my eyes, feeling fully energized, to find myself in costume back in the Library. Unsure, I opened the book to find RESTART preceding my current location in time/space. I’d been sent back twenty-four hours. I had a chance to save Buffy and the others. I quickly changed over into my soldier fatigues, grabbed a pair of sheathed swords, and headed out to Buffy’s house as quickly as possible by grabbing Giles’ car keys and driving. I left Phil behind for his safety, and put the book in the weapons locker to keep it secure.
At Buffy’s house, I was greeted by the slayer. The emotional impact of seeing her alive and well was too much, and I ended up hugging her and crying about her being okay. My display brought Ghost-Willow quickly, and I managed between hugs to explain the last day from my point of view. Needless to say, they doubted, but my hugginess gained me time to prove it. I handed Buffy and ‘the hotty’ under the sheet a sword each, and taking some stationery from Buffy’s phone table, wrote notes to ‘my immortal friend Willow Devereux and Lady Elizabeth, the Slayer’ and they back to ‘their friend Alexander’ as parts of their costume and to me.
Back at the Library, Snyder saddled us up with kids and a route before we could go into the Library and show them my book. This second night was painful, but at least no Scooby died. Buffy ran off Angel first-thing, I got to fire at full automatic into Spike until the sheer lack of a neck dusted him. With Slayer Elizabeth and Willow Devereux, my presence wasn’t necessary, but helped in suppressing the worse acts of piracy and monsters assaulting humans.
The Private Harris memories stayed as well as the weather man knowledge from my time as ‘Phil.’ Showing the gathered Scoobies the book and Phil the next day, they believed me, and while Giles was looking for research materials, the girls and I talked about how I might better have chosen a costume or persona. I explained the cash situation, and they suggested different kinds of soldiers or such when I…..
…found myself in the Library again on Friday with Giles somewhere in the building. Writing Giles a note to warn/equip Buffy, I looted the office for fines and his money, a total of fifty dollars. Grabbing an acoustic guitar left by a student in case I needed to break it up for emergency vamp stakes, I requisitioned Rupert’s car yet again. This time, I decided to play it smart and headed over to Ethan’s to add to my costume, arriving barely at three-forty-five.
“Can I help you young man?” Ethan asked, recognizing the slayer’s friend in his sad excuse for a costume. “Are you unhappy with your rental?”
“Yeah, I actually have about fifty bucks,” Xander said hurriedly, placing fatigues and guitar on the counter. “I’d still like to go as a soldier, but thought perhaps we could add some weapons, and maybe the over-uniform and coat to go with it.”
Ethan really wanted the young man out of the shop so he could finish up his preparations. “I suppose we could work something out, even at this date.”
“Really,” Xander smiled as Ethan grabbed his outfit to take it into the back room, “Thank you very much.”
“Ohmigod!” Willow cried out, hearing semi-automatic rifle fire, “I'm a real ghost!”
“Xander?” she calls out to her friend as she runs out into the street and comes up behind him, “Xander!”
Xander, guitar on his back, spins around and points his M-1 at her.
“Xander,” the girl cries out, “It's me, Willow!”
“I don't know any Willow,” Xander responds, “Though you are kinda cute.”
“Xander, quite messing around,” she replied, blushing, “This is no time for jokes or southern accents.”
“I’m sorry miss,” Xander replied, “I don’t know what’s going on here? A minute ago I was in Germany…”
“You don't know me?” Willow queried, “Who are you then?”
“You really don’t know me?” Xander responded, “Private First Class Elvis Presley, Ma’am.”