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Out of Africa

  by spikeNdru

Genre: Gen; Action/Adventure

Pairings: Xander and Ensemble; no pairings yet.

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: Two years post-Chosen

 

Disclaimers: The characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox; they aren't currently using

them so I'm borrowing them for awhile.

 

Chapter   1   2   3   4   5   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25

26   27   28   29   30

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Chapter Six

 

The following morning, the Scoobies sprang into action. The good, solid leads Harmony had given them infused them all with a sense of purpose. They decided to split up to cover more ground: Xander and Dawn headed out to the library as soon as it opened to look through last year's March and April newspapers for anything they could find on the accident, while Willow and Dennis went to work on Willow's laptop. She was sure she could hack into the Stanford student records with no trouble.

Under ordinary circumstances, it would have been a piece of cake to access the student records, but these were not ordinary circumstances. What Willow hadn't taken into consideration, was Dennis' fascination with the computer. He initially seemed to view it as an upgraded Ouija board, as he pressed keys with abandon. His excitement was palpable and Willow didn't have the heart to tell him to stop so that she could work. With a laugh, she opened Word for him and went to the kitchen to make coffee. It was sort of cool introducing the wonders of modern science to someone who had never seen a computer before, she decided. She remembered how thrilled she'd felt when she first realized that she was good with computers. She smiled as she heard the keys merrily clicking while she waited for the coffee to brew. She put two slices of rye bread into the toaster and opened a container of yogurt.

Poor Dennis had been trapped all alone in this apartment for so long without any access to the world at large . . . maybe she could explain in general terms about the 'Net and show him some simple things to do later, Willow thought. Broaden his horizons a little. She'd have to go slowly though—she didn't want too much information to overwhelm him.

Willow finished her breakfast and decided she'd check her e-mail, then show Dennis how to use the Internet browser and maybe Google; he could explore while she took a shower, and then she'd start to work on locating Connor.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Willow was reaching for a towel when her cell phone rang. She quickly dried her hands and wrapped the towel around her hair, then pulled the cell from the pocket of her slacks. She flipped the phone open and took a breath to say 'hello', but a voice cut her off before she could get the word out.

“Yo! Who the fuck is Dennis and why does he wanna know what I'm wearing?”

“Faith?”

“Of course it's Faith. What's going on and why is some tool IM-ing me under your screen name?”

“Um . . . maybe you'd better start at the beginning?”

“I was talkin' to Regina—the Cincinnati slayer, y'know?—when you came on-line. So we shot the shit for a few minutes and then 'you' asked me to come to LA—said I was needed. So I said sure—things are sorta quiet here for the moment—and asked what was up. An' 'you' said that Wesley told you I'd be needed. So I said, 'Dude, I thought Wes was dead', an' you said 'He is' an' that was pretty weird. You know me; when things get weird, I tend to get snarky. So I said 'How is ol' Wes?' and 'you started tellin' me, but it didn't sound like you, y'know? So I started getting' pissed and I'm like 'Yo! You're not Willow! Who the fuck are you an' what are you playin' at?' An' then he said he was Dennis and I sounded very 'colorful'—whatever that means—an' then the tool asked me what I was wearing. I figured he was some kinda perv and then I got worried about how he got access to your computer, so I thought I'd better call. So . . . what's the sitch?”

“Oh my . . . I had no idea he'd figure out how to IM already. It's a long story, but don't worry—Dennis isn't a perv; he's a ghost. And he's generally very polite. He was a friend of Cordy's, but I didn't know he'd talked to Wesley. I wonder why he didn't say anything to me? Or, maybe he talked to him while I was in the shower?”

“Willow . . .”

“Oh, sorry. Xander, Dawn and I are in LA. There's a chance Angel's team isn't dead—they may have been caught in a portal backlash. We're trying to locate them and bring them back. We'd all pretty much decided not to say anything to Buffy yet, but the um . . . non-corporeal contingent apparently thinks we could use a slayer so . . .”

“I'm in. An' don't worry; I won't say anything to B. It's not like we have much contact anyway. Willow . . . you really think there's a chance they're not dead?”

“Darn tootin', I do.”

Faith's breath caught in her throat. “I'd like to be able to believe that . . .” she said very softly.

There was silence on the line for a moment. Willow remembered that Faith had an inexplicably strong connection to Angel for some reason. Maybe it was the Reformed Ex-Murderers Club thing? Willow felt her face grow hot. She was a card-carrying member of the club herself. Suddenly, she felt closer to Faith and a lot of the old resentment left over from high school dissipated. Faith hadn't hesitated to help Angel a few years ago when she was needed, and then turned right around—without question or complaint—to come to Sunnydale to put her life on the line again. And she had to have been still dealing with the effects of the Orpheus drug that had almost killed her. Faith had paid her dues.

Willow's voice was warmer as she said, “Faith . . . thank you. If you're willing to come, we'd really love to have you with us. I really appreciate it. You're welcome to stay with us, or . . . if you've had enough of the Sunnydale-style camping, where more and more people are smooshed into an ever-shrinking space, we can get you a hotel. It's totally up to you—you're the one doing us the favor. But if you don't mind waiting in line to shower and stuff, you're more than welcome to stay here.”

Faith laughed. “Just me, Scoobs Version 2.0 and the pervy ghost, huh?”

“Well . . . for now. But who knows how many additional people we might end up with? Listen, let me get dressed and I'll get on-line and fill you in on everything. Oh, and Faith?”

“Yeah?”

“Just out of curiosity . . . did you tell Dennis what you were wearing?”

An explosion of laughter came over the line. “Yeah. Cut-offs, a white 'beater and flip-flops.  It's hot, yo!  In the 90's today. But don't worry. When I come out, I'll be sure to wear the leather pants — give your pervy little ghost the thrill of his ex-life!”

The line went dead and Willow giggled as she finished drying her hair and got dressed.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Xander took a breath to speak, but then pressed his lips tightly together without saying anything. He wanted to protest getting Faith involved, but couldn't think of a valid reason to do so. He just knew he felt uncomfortable about working closely with Faith without Buffy as a buffer. His lips quirked at his subconscious choice of words. He glanced at Dawn,and then quickly looked away. Did she know . . . about him and Faith? She wasn't actually around when it happened, and he wasn't sure exactly what memories the monks had given her. Buffy and Willow sort of knew that he and Faith had been . . . intimate, but would they have said anything around a twelve-year-old? And if Dawn 'overheard', would she have picked up on it—in the altered reality in which Dawn had always been here, that is.

This whole situation was giving him a headache!

The last time he'd seen Faith, things had been so hectic, with The First and Caleb and the Potentials and the tension and everything, that he hadn't even thought about having to relate to Faith. This time it was different.

And then there was the problem that the suggestion to bring in Faith came from Wesley. Oh, wait! Not just Wesley—Dead!Wesley. Willow said Wesley had matured into a fully-functioning member of Angel's team—sort of a second Giles—not only with the book learning, but a competent fighter, too. Xander sighed. No matter how hard he tried, Xander just couldn't picture Action!Wesley. The prissy, by-the-book watcher, whose fightin' skills consisted of screaming like a girl and running away, had morphed into John Wayne? Nope. Couldn't see it. Not that he doubted Willow's word; he just couldn't imagine anyone actually taking advice from Wesley—alive or dead.

Apparently, he was a minority of one, because everybody else seemed to have no trouble with Wesley's suggestion that they'd have need of Faith, and Faith agreeing to come work with them. Okay. Decision already made. He guessed that if he could accept Superhero!Harmony, he could buy into In-Charge!Wesley and Team-player!Faith. Possibly. If he worked really hard at it. Eventually.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They spent the evening comparing notes about their search for Connor. Xander and Dawn had found one brief mention of the accident in the police report section of the LA Times, but no mention at all in the other papers. That alone was enough to tell them that there was something weird about the incident. At least it wasn't being blamed on gangs on PCP, Willow thought. The incident did mention Connor's parents' names, which matched the info Willow had gotten hacking into Stanford's student records, so she assumed the address from Stanford was valid, too.

“How do you think we should approach this guy, Will?” Xander asked. “We can't just show up and say, 'Hi, you don't know us, but a bunch of dead people we used to know told a ghost that you can help us find a portal to another dimension that some of our friends were sucked into, and we'd like to get them back, so come with us, okay?' . . . can we?”

Willow giggled. “We do lead unconventional lives, don't we? Oh, and we could add: 'Don't worry, during our absence, LA will be protected by a vampire Superhero in a hot pink catsuit'.”

“Oh, yeah. Mustn't forget that—that part could be the deciding factor.”

“Guys!” Dawn said, making tsk-tsk sounds.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Xander asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Dawn grinned. “Let's stake out his house, follow him when he leaves, see where he goes, and then I can just 'accidentally' run into him, strike up an acquaintance and we can go from there.”

“That's not a half-bad idea,” Willow said thoughtfully.

“What? Are you crazy? It's a terrible idea! We don't know anything about this guy, except that he has superpowers of some kind, and you want to put Dawn in danger? She could get hurt, or . . . what if this guy turns out to be a serial killer or a mad rapist or . . .”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Relax, Xander. If he was a serial killer or a mad rapist, I'm sure Cordy wouldn't have suggested we work with him, and by the way, you're not putting me in danger; it was my idea in the first place and I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself.”

“I know that, Dawn. I just . . .” Just what? Xander thought. Just don't like the idea of Dawn hitting on a kid with superpowers that goes to Stanford?

“I know, you're just concerned about me, but you both will be there as back-up and I really can take care of myself.”

Xander sighed. Would he have been this upset about the potential plan if it had been Willow doing the meet and greet? No, he decided, he would have thought it was a good plan. So why did it bother him so much that it was Dawn as the bait?

“You're right,” he said reluctantly. “It's a good plan. We can start tomorrow with the reconnaissance—find out where he lives, get the lay of the land—that kind of stuff. When's Faith getting here, Willow?”

“She didn't say. She just said she agreed to come . . . want me to call her and ask?”

“Nah. If we don't hear from her tomorrow, you can check back with her. I could use a walk; I think I'll see if they have anything good at the video store next to that pizza place Dawn and I ate at the other night. Anyone wanna come with?”

“Sure. I'll come along,” Dawn said, getting to her feet.

Xander felt unreasonably happy.

 

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Continue to  Chapter Seven

 

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