DISCLAIMER: BtVS belongs to Joss. The Dendarii belong to LMB. I'm not making money off this.
FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Vorkosigan saga
WARNING: violence, language
CATEGORY: AU, action, XO
SPOILERS: general for both universes
SERIES: not planned
SUMMARY: You'd think Xander would know better than to make wishes on the Hellmouth.
Xander leaned back against the wall as soon as he stepped out of the light spilling from the windows of the Magic Box. He stared up at the night sky.
He so called friends were certainly inconsistent. He was too incompetent to take on patrol, even routine patrol in cemeteries that he'd been doing, with or without Buffy, Queen of Slayerdom, since High School. But, here he was being sent out, unarmed except for the standard stake, to go get food for the gang.
"I wish I was somewhere I was valued for what I can do," he sighed, shoving away from the wall.
The young man turned, eyes widening in horror as he recognized the green veined face of a vengeance demon. Not Anyanka, but one of her sisters. She smiled at him as the world faded from around them.
"I didn't mean it!"
She laughed. "But you did, sweetie." She stepped closer and Xander found he couldn't move. "But I'll give you a boon, so that what you wished is possible." The demon lay a hand on his forehead.
The dark haired man shuddered as knowledge poured into him. A thousand years of history, of wars and worlds, space ships and ray guns. He staggered back, finally free of the stasis spell.
He looked around him. White walls, metal floor and ceiling. A corridor, down which people moved about their business, moving past stalls and stores. "Where is this?" Men and women in grey and white uniforms staffed the stall across from him.
He struggled not to cough at the dry – processed and filtered how many times? – air that was already irritating his lungs. He was relieved to hear English, as well as a few other languages.
"Kline Station." She laughed again and he glared at her. "Don't worry about trying to get home. This dimension has no magic or demons. No one will believe you or try to help you. But if you choose correctly, you will be valued here."
"How, without any form of ID they'd believe either?"
She smiled, showing teeth that would make a shark flee in terror. "Check your pockets."
Xander did, finding his ID changed. Most of the facts of his life were correct, birthdate and so on, born on Escobar. He flinched as his new memories filled in the history of the planet. War, death. "I've got no skills here – not so great on the wish fulfilment."
The demon sighed and spread her hands. "There are at least 5 mercenary companies on this station. Any one of them will give you a shot. You do know how to kill things, kiddo." Then she was gone and he was alone.
His fellow Dendarri discovered that Xander was a decent pilot but he excelled at close combat. Put a gun – or better yet any kind of bladed weapon – in his hands, and he dealt out death at a horrifying rate. Even some of his squad members were edgy around him the first few times they saw him at work.
Until those skills were used to save their asses. Then they took up the same rules that applied when the Admiral took the field – stick close. It'll be a wild ride, but you were much more likely to come out of it alive and in one piece.
That demon had been right, Harris mused, ignoring the blood that spattered across his face plate as he pivoted to face the next enemy soldier, he was good at killing things.