An Alternate BtVS Season 3:"Mortal Friends; Mortal Foes"

Author: Sherman Barnes aka "Ironbear"

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, and all characters from those series belong to Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox Television, Kuzui Enterprises, UPN, Warner Brothers, and David Greenwalt Productions. I'm only borrowing them for the purposes of fanfiction, and only the plot and storyline, and those characters of my own creation belong to me. No profit is being made from this endeavor. Faith's back story draws loosely from that shown in "Go Ask Malice: A Slayer's Diary" by Robert Joseph Levy; Simon Spotlight Entertainment. Episode events and episode dialog quotes, where used, are drawn from the transcripts and summaries at Buffyworld .com, Wikipedia, and the shooting scripts at Unreliablenarrator . net

Author's Note: What if Faith had arrived earlier in Sunnydale and Buffy had returned a month later? What if the Mayor had had a slightly different goal? What if Spike never made it out of town following the love spell disaster, but met a different fate? Just how far apart is the line between "good slayer' and "evil slayer"? Diverges drastically from canon in many places, especially following "Lover's Walk" and "Bad Girls".

Synopsis: As if training, junkie vampires, and interpersonal dynamics weren't bad enough, weird science once again makes life complicated for the gang as they begin their Senior - and final - year of High School at good old SHS.

Word Count:57,613 total. 56,578 sans Disclaimer, Previouslies, and Credits.

"Night Watchmen"

Mortal Friends, Mortal Foes -

A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Alternate Season 3

Previously on Buffy the Vampire Slayer:

Santa Barbara: "Which should bring us back to your proposed student for me," Lirio suggests. "Yes, rather," Giles says, nodding. Removing his glasses, he gives her a direct look. "Willow Rosenberg is a bit of a problem for me, I'm afraid. While she isn't a 'natural' or hereditary witch, unlike another young woman of our acquaintance, she is possessed of a great deal of potential power and ability. And, unfortunately, while I have a great deal of magical knowledge and theory, her potential ability outstrips my own by enough that I fear I am unable to instruct her adequately." Lirio frowns slightly. "Hrmm. While a majority of true witches do inherit their talents, wild talents do occur on occasion. And they can often be quite powerful."

Lake Cachuma: "Maybe we can hold out until Homecoming?" Xander blurts out. "Tux, gorgeous dress, nice dinner, limo," he runs his hand down her silk covered back, "hotel room and sexy lingerie?" He clears his throat, saying, "Give me a chance to prove I don't see anyone else except you." Her lips quirk up at the corners, and she tilts her head slightly. "Hrmm. It'll be hard," Cordelia slides her leg over him and moves her hips, causing him to make a strangled noise in his throat, "But we might be able to last that long." Xander croaks, "Oh, it's hard all right." Cordelia laughs, and after a moment he starts spluttering in laughter along with her.

Lake Cachuma: Shaking her head slightly, Faith gave him a tight smile. "You heard me the first time. Let's see what happens." A wides grin split Legombe's face as an incandescent bolt struck the intersection behind them and thunder snarls somewhere close. "Done." Reaching out his hand, he touches her gently between the eyes, his fingertips trailing gently along her cheek as Faith feels herself starting to fade out of the dreaming. "You think you know what you are. You have no idea what you can yet become." She calls out, "Wait - Will I remember any of this?" She hears, "Not consciously, And not for a long time yet to come," as she fades back to her sleeping reality, "Only the part that matters will recall this."

Lake Cachuma: Shortly after their departure, a figure steps out of the deep shadows at the edge of the side chamber. Black of skin and eyes, long of face, and wrapped in flowing robes and tattered cloak, Faith would recognize him from the earlier dream she no longer quite remembers. However, no one is here to see as he strode to and past the slightly disturbed medicine wheel and out through the entrance of the small side cavern into the larger gallery. Giving a slight and satisfied nod, he waved his ornate staff in an intricate set of movements before the cave entrance. It closes up to bare rock face under the moving staff and he turns and disappears once again into the sheer rock face at the other side of the gallery...

...

Prologue: Back to Class -

Tuesday September 8, 1998; Sunnydale, Harris residence, early morning.

Xander Harris found himself shaken out of a deep sleep by a horrible noise at way too early an hour, at least according to what his sleep muddled brain was telling him. Reaching out hastily, he silenced the alarm clock before it could wake up his parents in the bedroom down the hall. Assuming they'd actually made it up to the bedroom before passing out, err... 'falling asleep'.

Freezing in place, he spent several minutes listening carefully until he was satisfied he'd reached the alarm before anyone else woke up. Afterwards, he hauled himself out of bed, groaning under his breath. 'First day of a new school year, oh happy happy joy,'he thought.

A fast shower later, he padded back to his room in his boxers while still toweling his hair dry and quietly closed the door behind him. You didn't slam doors in the Harris household of a morning, no siree. Not if you wanted to get dressed and slip out without drama.

Quickly stuffing his backpack-book bag with school supplies and some worn fatigue pants, shirt, and t-shirt for later patrolling, he closed the flap and tossed it on his still rumpled bed. That taken care of, he turned to his closet and dresser for the unaccustomed - to him - dilemma of choosing what to wear.

Last year it wouldn't have even been a question. He'd have grabbed some old corduroys and a shirt and t-shirt of some type, thrown on a pair of high top sneakers or some running shoes, and been off and running. Now, there was actual debate involved, most of it centering on whether he wanted to wear some of his new stuff and face a whole new world of possible ridicule, or throw on his usual and deal with the Wrath of Cordelia.

Ok, so not that much of a question. Somehow, the Wrath of Cordelia was actually scarier than facing demons or the Hellmouth Beast. Not to mention that, a quieter and unaccustomed part of his mind said, Cordelia's disappointment in him would be even worse.

No: what would be worse would be the fact that she wouldn't be disappointed. Or surprised, even. She'd just sigh, make some cutting remark, and those toffee colored eyes would very briefly flash a kind of resigned 'I should have known' at him that would cut a lot more to the quick than whatever insult she dredged up.

Xander sighed. This 'growing up' idea was a lot easier when he was just talking about it over dinner with Cordy, a kind of a theory he was exploring. Actually doing it meant that he had to make choices and figure out just how the hell to go about it now.

Ok. So part of it is that 'meeting people half way and actually changing thing' he'd mentioned at dinner. He could do that. Sure he could. That decided, he grabbed a pair of darkish tan cargo jeans of a hanger, and a kind of dark olive colored denim shirt from his newer stuff. 'Sage' his mind supplied, and he shoved it down with a derisive snort. Olive. A dark brown Mountain t-shirt with a coiling dragon over a celtic cross design both went with the shirt and - more importantly - placated his inner sci-fi geek. He pulled the shirt on over it, leaving it unbuttoned most of the way, slid into the jeans and tucked both in. Grinning a bit to himself, he deliberately chose a pair of mismatched socks from his dresser with a mental sticking-out-of-the-tongue at Cordy while pulling them on. The dark brown leather bomber jacket topped off the whole thing - the weather channel had been predicting rain and unseasonably cool September weather for SoCal. Why, it might get all the way down to the low sixties or very high fifties out there at some point. With, gasp, rain. At least the jacket looked good.

'World, meet the New and Improved Xander Harris,' went through his mind as he looked himself over in his dresser mirror. 'Funny, the New Xander Harris looks a lot like the Old Xander Harris, only in a costume. Indiana Harris: just add water and fedora.'

Actually, it didn't look all that bad, even if he did feel... weird in the outfit. After running a brush through his slightly shaggy hair, he slung his book bag over one shoulder by a strap, and grabbed a pair of new brown Timberline hikers from the floor of his closet to finish off.

Shoes in hand, he headed out and downstairs in his stocking feet to avoid making noise. A low rasping buzz from the slightly open door to his parents room announced that at least his mom had made it upstairs and into bed last night.

On the first floor, sounds of harsh snoring mixed with the low sounds of the living room television caused him to slow abruptly. Walking carefully, he padded almost silently across the threadbare carpeting past the couch where his dad lay sprawled out. Mouth open, a nearly empty gin bottle still dangling from one hand, and a horrible noise coming out. Welcome to Chez Harris. Please don't wake the beast. Stifling a sudden and almost terrifyingly strong urge to clonk his sleeping dad in the temple with the heavy hikers and not stop until the noise did, Xander shook his head sourly and slipped on past through the dining room and into the kitchen.

His dad hadn't been exactly thrilled with the younger Harris dropping out of sight for several weeks without coming home, only to immediately take off for several days again. Honestly, Xander had been amazed they'd even noticed. It hadn't gotten violent, but it had gotten loud after he'd come back from Lake Cachuma. The slurred and sarcastic lectures on 'responsibility' and 'lack of discipline' had only finally trailed off after Xander had surprised and placated his old man with a small - and grudgingly handed over - 'donation' from what he was quickly starting to think of as his nest egg as well as his road trip fund. A tightly rolled green pathway out of his parents house as soon as he thought he could manage something elsewhere. It didn't thrill him to picture a hundred or so of his summer wages and vamp raiding efforts rapidly disappearing into Hank's Liquor Mart.

Muttering under his breath, he rummaged through the refrigerator for something to grab for lunch later. Breakfast he'd snag on the way from the small deli-slash-donut shop a dozen or so blocks from Sunnyhell High: he wasn't about to risk waking up his folks by even quietly rattling pots and pans to fix something.

Under the ministrations of a chef's knife, one of his mom's rare forays into the world a cooking - a stringy and slightly tough pot roast - yielded a thick pile of paper thin slices to go between a couple of slabs of leftover sourdough. Slathered with ketchup and horseradish and some pickle slices, it'd probably stay edible enough to get him through the day until they could hit the diner after school. He snickered quietly: left to its own devices, his mom's pot roast would probably stay edible through nuclear winter. Or at least as edible as it had started out, anyway. Almost as an afterthought, he added a couple of PBnJ on white sandwiches for break time snacks. Ready to go.

Closing the door behind him and putting his shoes on outside, Xander Harris eased out the back to head down the driveway towards school and his friends. Suddenly, a new school year actually didn't seem like such a bad thing.

Amazing what contrasts could do for your attitude.

...

Tuesday September 8, 1998; Sunnydale, Chase manor, early morning.

Showered, hair neatly coiffed, and makeup applied, Cordelia Chase spent only a brief period of time perusing the contents of her closet before drawing out the ensemble she'd decided on the night before. Spent a couple of hours deciding on, actually. It was critical to make just the right impressions on the first day back, especially if she didn't want her downward social mobility to continue.

A pair of flowing yet tight-in-all-the-right-places designer slacks went on over slightly tinted hose. A tight, cream colored pull-over shirt went above that, cut low enough to show just the right amount of cleavage, with a darker, wrap around blouse over that. Expensive low boots and a light weight jacket completed the look, with a perfectly matching handbag. 'Just right,' she thought, giving herself a critical once over in her room's full length mirror. She grinned, giving her reflected perfection the patented Chase thousand watt smile. 'Take that, world. Cordelia Chase is ready for you.'

A slight frown creased her forehead, dimming the smile a bit as the thought crossed her mind of what Xander might choose to show up in. Surely, given their new understandings, her boyfriend would understand the importance of presenting a united front to the rest of the school. But... she wasn't quite willing to bet on it. Xander was given to odd moments of stubbornness and self-destructive rebellion at the most inconvenient of times. The smile dimmed to an even lower wattage as her mind supplied her with fairly accurate renditions of Harmony and the various Cordette's probably comments and reactions through the day, once they discovered that Cordelia really hadn't sensibly dumped the 'Harris loser' over the summer.

Well, screw that. She'd meant every word she'd told Harmony Kendall last year when she'd made the decision to continue seeing Xander. It's not like she was going to waffle and let the opinion of sheep matter to her after everything. And, at least, Aura and Tamara were still friendly with her, so it's not like she was going to be left completely out in the cold. She'd still have some semblance of a worthwhile social life, whatever happened.

Cordelia's chin came up and her eyes hardened. No going back. A Chase didn't retreat from a decision, not once it was made for perfectly good reasons. And especially not to placate mere followers. Giving her reflection a decisive nod, and wishing secretly she felt as decisive as she looked, she firmed the smile back up to full wattage and grabbed her handbag and book bag to head downstairs.

Sweeping into the dining room, Cordelia gave her father a peck on the cheek, followed by one for Daddy's wife, before settling down at the table. Rosa set a cup of freshly brewed Kona with just the right amount of cream before her, and Cordelia gave her a warm 'thank you' smile before turning a brighter one on her parents.

"Good morning Daddy," Cordelia said. "Mother," she nodded to her other parent.

"Morning, Princess," Randall Chase returned the smile with interest, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that only Cordelia seemed to get from him. That eye crinkle always made her feel ten years old and the center of her Daddy's attention in a way that never failed to cause her to forgive his frequent absences in other areas of her life. "You look wonderful this morning," he said. "Ready for the first day back?"

"Definitely," Cordelia agreed. "Stand back, Sunnydale, the Chase is coming through."

"That's the ticket," Randall stated. "Knock 'em dead, Princess."

"Is there any other way?" Cordelia smirked, getting a laugh before her father immersed himself in the Wall Street Journal again. She started in on her breakfast.

"Not to my knowledge," her mother said, laughing. "You do look very stylish, dear," she added in an approving tone. "By the way - there's a small thing at the country club this afternoon. Any possibility you might be able to join us?"

Cordelia frowned slightly, chewing at her lower lip a bit before shaking her head with just the right amount of regret. "Afraid not. I kind of had plans for after school and this evening."

"Hmm." The older woman tilted her head slightly, studying Cordelia a bit before frowning thoughtfully. "With that Harris boy? Really, Cordelia, while a casual dalliance or two is to be expected at your age, don't you think you're getting a bit serious with this... infatuation? You must think to your future, you know."

"Hmm," Cordelia said, covering with a sip from her coffee cup while studying the other woman in turn. "I'm not certain 'infatuation' is the right word. And I do think of my future all the time, Mother."

The 'Mother' was a courtesy long ago agreed upon between Cordelia and her father. Privately she thought of Teresa Chase as 'Daddy's Third', as in the second marriage following her real mother's death when she was very little, but she'd never dream of letting the phrase cross her lips either to the other woman or elsewhere. And, Teresa at least was nice, if in a bit distant of a fashion. She seemed to have genuine affection for Cordelia, and for Cordelia's father. She'd stayed with Randall Chase from the time Cordelia was eight, much longer than Wife Number Two, who'd breezed out almost as quickly as she'd breezed into their lives. That alone was worth a bit of respect.

"Well, as long as you know what you're doing, Cordelia," Teresa allowed, finally. "Based on what Gloria Kendall's mentioned of her daughter's commentary, this relationship can't be doing much for your standing in your social circles, dear."

Cordelia arched an eyebrow, "The Chases are basing our decisions around the opinions of the Kendalls, now?" Cordelia said with just the right amount of derision. "I remember when it used to be rather the other way around."

That drew a full fledged frown, followed by a grudging nod of acceptance. "It's just that there are so many eligible young men to be had," Teresa stated, not completely willing to concede the round.

"Yes," Cordelia said. "All of whom are more interested in my status or Daddy's money than in me," she stated, turning back to her meal. "Whereas at least Xander's interests are more the other way direction."

"You should bring him to dinner some evening," Randall Chase put in, a bit unexpectedly. "We should at least re-meet the young knight who's captured the Princess," he said, turning the page on his paper. Giving her a glance over the top of the investments section, he added, "It's been a long time since you've had Alexander over - it might be nice to see how he's changed."

Cordelia froze momentarily, resisting the impulse to gape at her father. Swallowing her last bit of English muffin, she washed it down with a sip of coffee before saying, "That might be a good idea. Let's work up to it a bit first, though - I don't want you to terrorize him just yet."

Randall Chase gave her a sharp look over the top of his paper, then grinned. "Oh, come on. I wouldn't do that. Much."

"Sure you wouldn't, Daddy," Cordelia grinned back at him. "Let me guess: formal dinner party with the Mayor and your buddy the Sheriff, with you grilling poor Xander about his intentions and prospects as he slowly wilts before fleeing."

"I think she has you there, Randall," Teresa said, laughing.

"Damned women," Randall Chase grumbled. "You know me too well." He nodded to his daughter, "All right. Nice intimate dinner at some point in the future when Teresa and I are both in town. You pick the time and place."

"Works," Cordelia said. Her eyes widened slightly, and she cocked her head with an inquisitive expression. "You're leaving again?"

"Not right away, no," Randall Chase said. "But in a couple of weeks to a month, at the most, probably."

"Your father and I need to make a trip to Washington to see to some business," Teresa added, with a glance at Cordelia's father.

"All right," Cordelia said, nodding. Suppressing a sigh, she pushed back her plate and stood from the table. "Well, time for school."

Gathering her bag and book bag, she headed out to the sound of her parent's rather abstracted 'so longs'. She was both more firmly certain of her earlier decision to see her choices through, and more nervous about the practical considerations involved with doing so.

Amazing what a bit of tacit parental disapproval could do for your attitude.