Faith watched as the vampire she'd just staked turned to dust, mentally tabulating the night's kills.

She still had a few more vamps to go if she was going to win the bet she'd made with Spike.

And she hated to lose. especially to him.

Just as she was about to go in search of more walking corpses, the Slayer heard a noise off to her right. It sounded like a fight.

Faith moved towards the sound, making as little noise as possible. Hiding behind a large tombstone, the Slayer took stock of the situation. There was a man a couple of yards away fighting with three vampires.

It was dark and she couldn't see the man clearly, though there seemed to be something slightly familiar about him; but she was almost positive she'd never actually met him. She was usually pretty good at recognizing people.

Just as she was about to jump into the fight and help the stranger, she realized it wasn't necessary. The man had staked two of the vampire's while she was trying to place what little of his face she could see. She watched him with interest as he circled around the third.

It was obvious the guy knew about vampires. He had no trouble whatsoever staking the other two, and seemed to do it was the familiarity of one in long practice. He didn't seem frightened by the prospect of actual vampires. In fact he seemed almost bored.

Almost as if his life was one long fight scene; like he hadn't seen any move that wasn't familiar.

As Faith watched the man fight she felt something she didn't usually feel towards strangers.

Pity.

She hoped that she would never get that look on her face. The look that said that nothing had any meaning anymore. She hoped that she would never be that bored with existence. That killing became nothing more than an act that had no meaning.

She knew that she loved being a Slayer and sometimes she got a little carried away, but she never truly lost sight of they whys. She always remembered who and what she was, and why people like her were necessary.

Her predecessor had forgotten that. In all of her anger, and pain over the loss of what she thought was her soul mate, Buffy had forgotten what she was, and let her emotions and guilt get the better of her.

One of Faith's fears had always been that the Slaying thing would get to be too much; that she'd just stop feeling things one day. It was one of the reasons she'd first hooked up with Spike.

He may have been a vampire, but he was unlike any vampire she'd ever met; plus he was highly entertaining. And pretty good in the sack.

Faith watched as the stranger circled the vampire once more. Before the creature knew what hit him, his head was severed from his body.

The vampire turned to dust, allowing Faith a better look at the stranger.

He had turned his gaze up to the sky, almost as if he was expecting something to happen.

When nothing did, the man shrugged and started to walk away.

Faith followed him from a safe distance away, still wondering what it was about him that struck her as familiar.

She followed him out of the cemetery and towards a bar at the end of the main street.

As he stood at the bar's entrance, under the yellow lights, Faith got the distinct impression that she had seen his face somewhere before.

A vague memory of a photograph tried to surface but she couldn't quite place it.

When she entered the bar, she spotted the man sitting at a stool. She took the seat next to his and ordered a drink.

"You mind?" She asked turning to look at the man.

He ignored her. He didn't even acknowledge that she'd spoken, just continued to drink what appeared to be a soda, and stare straight ahead.

Faith continued to stare at him, her vague memories starting to crystallize.

He looked like Xander Harris.

She didn't know Xander personally, but her friends Cordelia Chase and Willow Rosenberg had pictures of him all over their apartment. Spike had even mentioned him once or twice, always with a sneer in his voice, but Faith was never sure if the sneer was due to Xander or the effect his disappearance seemed to have on their friends.

She knew Xander had left Sunnydale, California almost five years ago, and hadn't kept in touch with his old friends. A fact, which worried Willow and Cordelia and had some unexplained reaction on Angel.

If this was Xander, she wanted to know. Her friends should know that he was okay.

"You have a name?" She asked abruptly, startling the pervasive silence that seemed to hover over Xander, if that was indeed who he was.

Xander turned to face her. "I'm not interested."

His dark eyes showed no emotion whatsoever. It was a look that chilled her, and didn't jive with what she *did* know about Xander Harris.

Faith raised an eyebrow. "I didn't ask you if you were interested. I asked you if you had a name."

Xander didn't blink; he didn't even seem to care what she thought about him, another fact that didn't make sense, if he was who she thought he was.

"No." Xander answered curtly as he stood up from his stool, threw a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and walked away.

Faith whistled.

The bartender came up and refilled her drink. "Don't take it personally. That's more than he's said to anyone else."

"He come in here often?" Faith asked a she took on long swallow of her scotch and looked around the semi-busy bar.

The bartender shrugged. "He's only been in town for a week. He comes in every night, orders a coke, doesn't talk to anyone." The bartender shrugged again. "He tips well."

"He orders a coke? That's it?"

"Yep. Nothing else."

"He comes into a bar, and *doesn't* order any alcohol?" Faith raised an eyebrow, another vague memory tugging at her.

The bartender shrugged.

"Interesting." Faith got up and placed some money on the on bar. "Thanks."

She left the bar and walked the few blocks to where she had parked her motorcycle. She wanted to catch up with Spike sooner rather than later. He might find this latest development just as bizarre as she did.

*~*~*~*

Spike exhaled a puff of smoke and looked at the Slayer. "Xander Harris? Are you sure?"

"No." Faith shook her head. "He looked like the guy in the photos, but."

"What was he doing?" Spike asked, thinking about the possibility that his girl had in fact seen the whelp.

"Slaying vampires."

Spike arched an eyebrow. "By 'imself?"

"Yep. Like a pro."

"You talk to 'im?"

"I talked. He didn't talk back."

Spike listened as Faith told Spike how she had followed Xander to the bar and about their brief conversation.

"Doesn't sound like 'im." Spike said, though deep down he thought it might be the missing Harris boy.

"We'll go back to that bar and see if anyone knows anything." Spike decided. He wasn't particularly interested in seeing Xander. If the boy wanted to disappear it didn't make no difference to him. Unfortunately, not everyone felt like he did.

*~*~*~*

Xander walked into the pub and looked around. He wasn't in any mood for company after the week he'd had. Thankfully most people were smart enough to stay away when he was in a mood. And these days. he was always in a mood.

Actually that wasn't completely accurate.

In order to be in a mood, one would have to have an opinion one way or another about something, and he just.. didn't.

All the days seemed to blend together.

All the demons and vampires, and crazy humans wielding swords.

It had been a year since that nearly fatal run in with the Vorash demons. He still didn't understand why the demon had let him live, but had ceased worrying about it. Who was he to argue with some smelly demon? Especially when he was still breathing.

Although still breathing, Xander couldn't really call what he was doing living. Existing maybe, but even that was pushing it.

Xander ordered a cold drink and found a quiet booth in the back, barely even remembering it was his birthday. To be honest, he barely even remembered his name.

He'd used so many over the past few years. So many names, and identities, and fictional pasts, anything to stop the inevitable question of where he came from.

It had been months since he'd written to Willow, even longer since he'd spoken to her.

After his run in with Oz, he hadn't wanted to chance it. He didn't know if the werewolf had told the others, and he wasn't prepared to answer any questions. Although if he was being honest, he would admit that he hadn't written to her for months, even before running into Oz. If he had, he probably would have known about Buffy's death. About Willow's move to L.A. with Cordelia.

But he didn't.

Besides, he didn't seem to anything to say.

He had done some looking around and found out that Willow and Cordelia were in Los Angeles, sharing an apartment, and apparently more.

That was weird. But it didn't matter much to him, really. That life was so much a part of his past, he only vaguely remembered it.

Some days he'd wake up and forget who he was supposed to be. What name he was using, or where he was. On those days, he'd completely blank his mind out and forget everything. He'd move around almost like an automaton in Futureworld.

Not that anyone ever noticed.

To notice something wasn't quite right with him, they would have had to know him. And no one did.

Shaking his head, Xander closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the booth, sighing.

The pub was air conditioned, but between the heat and the bodies, it wasn't much cooler than outside.

He heard someone slide into the booth across from him but didn't move. It wasn't the first time someone had seen him sitting alone and thought he needed company.

"Go away." He said tiredly. "I don't need or want company."

His visitor didn't move.

"I said, get lost!" Xander snapped, still not moving.

"Don't think so mate."

Xander froze. He knew that voice. At least he had, in his former life. He opened his eyes and slowly lifted his head.

"Spike?"

*~*~*~*

Spike took out a cigarette and lit up and he looked Xander over. "You're a hard man to find, mate."

Xander stared at the vampire warily. "Who says I need to be found?"

"That would be me sire." Spike said, baiting the boy. He knew Xander and his Sire had history, and though he didn't know all the details he knew it wasn't good.

"Angel?" Xander shook his head and leaned back in the booth. "Last I heard you had left Sunnyhell with Dru in tow, after trying to kill your sire."

Spike shrugged and smirked. "You've been away a long time, Pet."

"What does Angel want with me?"

Spike smirked and took a long, deep drag. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Xander stood up. He was in no mood to play vampire games. "Nice to see old enemies again, Spike. Tell Deadboy I said thanks but no thanks." He turned around and walked away. Just before he reached the door, he spoke again. "He didn't send you, but, nice try."

*~*~*~*

Xander left that town that night, not looking forward to dealing with Spike. He was a part of his past. A past he didn't particularly want to catch up with him. He knew Spike was lying, though he couldn't fathom why. Angel wouldn't send Spike here. After him.

If Angel knew where he was, *and* wanted him to go back, he wouldn't have sent Spike.

Unless.

Unless the vampire didn't remember.

And if he didn't?

That would be better. Wouldn't it?

*~*~*~*

For the next three months, Xander moved from town to town, weaving through the faceless population, doing what he did best. Killing demons, and maintaining a low profile.

He knew he was being followed. It was probably Spike, but he wasn't ready to talk yet, if he ever would be, so he ignored him; Pretended he didn't know he was being watched.

Then suddenly, his shadow was gone.

Xander stopped feeling the eyes constantly watching him, stopped smelling the familiar trail of smoke following him. Stopped feeling being watched on the few occasions he actually was out during the day.

It was just gone. And Xander breathed a sigh of relief, hoping the vampire wouldn't be back.

He should have known he couldn't be that lucky.

*~*~*~*

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