ALL THAT IS OLD

By AshtakRa

Fandom: BtVS & Historic places, events and characters – and some of my own.

Disclaimer: The BtVS characters do not belong to me, I do this for fun and not for money.

Setting: Several months after the end of season 7, some characters have moved on and I have made Willow single.

What you should know: This will be a slash fanfic, everyone's favourite BtVS slasher Xander and some of my own creations, maybe even Willow will get some action. I have an end plan but first I have to get there so your patience and perseverance is required, get through the first three chapters and everything will begin to make sense, but I still have some major surprises later on. This is my first outing into this world so any feedback is greatly appreciated, as long as it is constructive – or full of praise. I am also majorly guilty of changing writing styles continuously, just accept it and move on. I would also like to thank all authors of fanfiction, you put it out there for nothing more than yours' and others' enjoyment – with no reward but personal satisfaction.

Prologue: Intent

Good and evil were no longer absolute concepts – if they ever had been. He should have realised this with Anya, Willow, Angel or even Andrew; but it was Spike who had shown that for every moment that balance of good and evil could tip any way. Spike had sacrificed himself to save… what?

The world?

Sunnydale?

The Scoobies?

Buffy?

In the end it was the world he saved – his actual intentions were irrelevant. A creature once pure evil (the Judge proved that) had saved the world from ultimate evil; but how close had it really been?

Had the demon in Spike battled with the new soul and had part of Spike wanted the First to succeed? Perhaps this is what made Spike's sacrifice so significant – because those choices were not so clear, yet he still made the right one. Humanity continued on in ignorance; people cheated, stole, and killed, never realising that a creature that had committed more evil than they ever could… had saved them.

Spike

Anya

and Sunnydale, the only home he had ever known, all were now gone – had been gone for several months now. It was only now Xander allowed himself to ponder what had happened, the enormity of it – the pain, and the loss.

A part of his life was over, a part of their lives was over and now they were left with something else, something which after several apocalypses they had never really considered before, and as Xander felt a hand slip into his he knew what that something was…

-the future.

Chapter One: Midnight on the Ocean of Good and Evil

1500 km east of New York City, 9 km above the Atlantic

The cabin was dim, only the floor lights and two reading lamps provided any illumination and the only sound was the hum of the engines and some dull beeps. Buffy hugged the blanket closer and looked out the small window. It was a full moon, which was enough to reveal a thick cloud cover beneath them and a distant storm cluster which flashed with lightning intermittently.

At what age had she stopped being afraid of lightning? Oh that's right – never, not that she would admit that to anyone, after all – Slayer, fighter against all things evil – so no time for silly fears, not when she faced real ones on a daily basis.

Sighing Buffy glanced back at her cabin mates, Willow was asleep, as was Faith – who slept a lot better lately, what with not being in jail or on the run anymore. Giles, reading of course but from a laptop, how times had changed. Buffy smiled at the memory a Giles denouncing the computer as a sign of the downfall of civilisation, but now he could discuss gigabytes and RAM with the best of them. Across from Giles sat Andrew, the other person responsible for the soft beeps as he worked on his palm pilot. Now and then he passed it to Giles who glanced and either nodded or shook his head; there were more shakes than nods and their faces were grim.

She realised what they were doing – a roll call of the Watcher's Council, or what was left of it. How ironic thought Buffy, when there was only one Slayer the Council was, well seemingly huge, with contacts and agents across the world. Now there were active slayers around the world but no Council… for now. This is why they were on a private plane headed for England, and why Giles and Andrew were working throughout the night. The Council had to be reassembled and quickly, Slayers without Watchers were dangerous… or dead.

This is what was keeping her awake – she was the Slayer, but no longer the Slayer, just one among many. She knew that since her 'first' death there had been two, but still only one line and two was company, almost comforting – but any more was, well, disconcerting. While Buffy was aware that other Slayers still saw her as the Slayer she knew that it made no real difference. She had more experience, her powers did seem greater – and there was the whole semi-demonic 'thanks to being brought back to life' thing but in the end they were all Slayers.

In her heart Buffy knew she was kidding herself, Slayers were soldiers but she was no longer just a soldier – as she had told the 'potentials' – she was their General. That probably won't change, even with the First defeated evil was still rampant and only organised Slayers could fight it effectively. With regret Buffy remembered telling Giles she no longer needed him – so wrong, so arrogant. Buffy now hoped she would never stop needing him, and that was why she knew the Council had to be rebuilt.

Not because it was an ancient institution;

Not because thousands of years of work and sacrifice would be undone;

Not because they needed to be an army;

Because they were responsible, because there were now Slayers around the world who needed guidance, and help – and understanding. Slayers who would now face dangers they had not asked for but had thrust upon them – "by us" thought Buffy.

On the plus side one Slayer stopped several big bads, imagine an army of Slayers – Buffy grinned, feeling almost safe, and confident and happy for the first time in so long.

Then she looked over at Xander and that smile collapsed. His eye was closed but he was not asleep, Buffy could have told this from body language but that was not the give away – it was the silent tear running down his cheek.

"So" Buffy almost breathed a sigh of relief "the time has come".

They had all had their breakdowns, some private like herself and Giles – and others openly like Dawn, Willow, Andrew and surprisingly Faith. How could Buffy forget Faith, stake poised above a Vampire in a chilly Brooklyn alley – but unable to plunge it down. With tears streaming down her face Faith had turned to Buffy and Giles and screamed about too much death, too much pain. They had hugged her, they had kissed her, and they had told her everything would be alright. Instead of pushing them away Faith had accepted the comfort and cried like a five year old – unashamed and without regret.

Each of them had received this comfort at one point or another – except for Xander, ever reliant and always there for everyone Xander. He had not broken, not even at Anya's memorial, at Spike's, at every memorial for every fallen Slayer – for they had died as Slayers, not potentials – not 'the girls', Slayers.

He had held Buffy as she sobbed tearlessly for two straight hours after they came across a vampire in a duster (thankfully not with blonde hair).

He had sat up and got utterly drunk with Giles – who insisted on polishing off a 12oz bottle of single malt whiskey after realising he was now the highest ranking member of the Watcher's Council. Xander who hated alcohol, and more importantly drunk father figures.

He had accompanied Willow on a week's binge of gay nightclubbing after Willow's relationship had failed – apparently they only stopped going out because Xander was getting more offers than Willow and she was worried he might actually accept one to teach her their nightly dusk till dawn forays was not helping her all. Willow still insisted that Xander had kept some of the guy's numbers – Xander had just laughed and said he thought Andrew might want them.

He had even helped Andrew, although not in so much a compassionate way. Andrew had been the first to break, screaming about the blood on his hands while they were still on the bus to L.A. Xander had grabbed Andrew and sat him down, not saying a word until Andrew's screams had lessened to whimpers – then Xander had simply and quietly said "after a thousand years Anya still loved life more than ever – if she gave it up for you she believed you were worth it… prove her right or I'll kill you myself" the last bit he had growled. There was no humour in his voice, no anger – just resolve and for the first time since she had met him Buffy realised Xander capable of cold blooded murder, and it scared her a little.

It scared Andrew more. Since that time he had worked closely with Giles, helping him to contact and gather information on the remnants of the Council. His resolve seemed genuine and he never avoided Xander or appeared afraid of him, the two even spent a lot of time together and teamed up to follow up on leads. But sometimes Buffy caught Andrew looking at Xander, not with fear but with something bordering on wariness – she had even heard him tell a newly found slayer about "putting the fear of Xander into them".

He had been there for everyone, and even though Buffy had no doubt any one of the people in this cabin would not hesitate to do the same for Xander – he would never ask, it simply wasn't his way. But then nor was it hers to wait for the asking.

Xander felt the seat move as someone sat next to him and a hand slid into his. No words were spoken; no words were needed – he knew it would be her, knew that she would always be there for him and that she would know when he needed words, and when he just needed comfort. When had he realised that he was no longer in love with her, and just loved her.

Buffy snuggled into his shoulder and his arm drew her close, the tears continued but now there was someone to wipe them away.

Giles shook his head at another name Andrew showed him and sighed, removing his glasses – but not bothering to clean them, when had he stopped that nervous habit? He was now the head of the Council: the Protector of the Line. Had this come about by default – default being everyone else was dead, then it could have been bearable. But there were still high ranking council members, and they had elected him – and given him absolute control of the restructure. That he had not been asked was it seemed, irrelevant; it was now his responsibility.

Giles knew that the future was a new Watcher's Council, not a replica of what was – not an inhuman, controlling entity. The Council would be a safe haven, a place and a people who would watch out for each other. No longer would Slayers be weapons utilised for a single minded purpose – but Slayers would be… people – warriors, people who needed support and, well, that which is the nemesis of all evil… love.

Giles watched Buffy move over to Xander, watched as they comforted each other and understood the unspoken words: 'somehow we have survived, somehow we have remained together, and now we face the future'. Giles knew with a certainty that they would not face the future as a team, nor as a fighting unit – but as family.

The F1-11 fighter-bomber rose like an apparition in front of the private civilian jet, the pilot stared wide eyed and nudged the co-pilot, who had been catching up on his favourite author's latest novel. Both stared transfixed by the twin engines of the lethal looking warplane, there were no markings – no-way of knowing who the jet belonged to. Something made the pilot look to the side and sure enough another warplane was flying alongside them, the warplane pilot was visible as he switched on his cockpit light. He pointed at the civilian pilots then at the plane in front, the message was clear – follow!

The pilots did not have to be told twice, they were in an unarmed civilian craft, two fighter-bombers were threatening them – the choices were very limited.

In the passenger cabin Giles noticed the whiskey in his glass move to an acute angle, and then he felt the plane declining as well. He looked up at Andrew who looked a little confused but not worried, he should be thought Giles, they were still well short of the British Isles.

Giles moved over to a window and looked out, the F1-11 was unmistakable,

"Oh my", he muttered, "This can't be good".

…To be continued in Chapter Two: Trust the Nice Man with the Gun