All XS character are copyright Christi Hui

The song 'White and Nerdy' is copyright Weird Al

I think the term 'The Dark Side' is copyright George Lucas, but I could be wrong.

Long story short, I own nothing and no one. This fic only quiets the voices in my head to a contented whisper.

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Chase Young snarled a vicious epitaph under his breath. Looking down at his spell-wrought body, he tried to change to lizard form to destroy the miserable worms that had caused this-no doubt completely out of blind luck-but there was no ripple of power.

"Where did he go?" Omi's voice came echoing down among the rocks.

"I don't know, li'l buddy," Clay's voice joined the Water Dragon's. "Maybe the combined Shen-Gong-Wu just . . . destroyed 'im."

"I don't think so," Kimiko called. "I thought I saw something move away from here just afterwards." The sound of metal scraping on stone reached his ears and Chase realized the Japanese girl was poking at his armor. "All of his clothes are here except for his shirt."

"So he might have teleported away?" Raimundo suggested. The Xiaolin monks' voices dropped as they drew closer together and Chase lost the gist on their conversation. No matter; they were entirely on the wrong path anyway. As humiliating as it sounded, he couldn't fight them in this . . . this . . .this joke of a body. He had to get out of here. Still swearing in Mandarin, the ancient warrior raised the one thing he had the foresight to hold onto: The Golden Tiger Claws.

"Golden Tiger Claws!"

Chase Young leapt through the dimensional rift made by the Shen-Gong-Wu and heaved a sigh of relief. The gust of wind stirred Wuya's skirt, who turned around and gawked at him.

"W-Wuya, this is not a good time!" Chase bellowed, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. "Leave my home this instant!" The witch blinked slowly as recognition dawned, and then threw her head back and laughed hysterically.

"Oh, oh my, Chase, is that you?! What in the nine hells happened?! You look-you look-!" the Heylin witch screeched.

"I believe I gave you an order," Chase growled. Wuya paused in her giggle fit to arch an eyebrow at the magically-transformed warrior.

"Oh? And can you still force me to obey like that?" she asked with a dangerous grin. Chase gritted his teeth.

The sound of raised voices drew the attention of the jungle cat warriors that guarded Chase Young's home. A group of five jogged into the room and sized up the two occupants.

"Warriors! Get rid of this witch!" Chase cried, pointing at Wuya. The cats continued to circle the pair, fixated not so much on Wuya as they were on Chase himself. The ancient warrior recognized the gleam in their eyes as they stared at his new body. They looked hungry.

"You can't even control your warriors like this," Wuya observed with obscene delight. "I wonder how long they'll play with that new body of yours before they decide to eat you?" A large black panther licked its chops and dropped into a hunting crouch. Chase felt the blood drain from his face. In desperation, he raised his hand and activated the Shen-Gong-Wu, fleeing from his own home.

He didn't go far. Chase Young sat shivering on a mountain peak a few miles from his lair, the wind snapping his shirt around him like a flag. He couldn't return to his home in this condition-if his own warriors didn't eat him first, Wuya was sure to take advantage of his condition for her own purposes, even if those purposes were strictly revenge. Hannibal Bean would also be along quickly to take advantage of the situation, as would a host of other, lesser villains. At least the jungle cats would try to defend their own territory, even if they didn't recognize their lord and master. Chase sighed; as much as he hated to admit it, he needed protection until he could return to his normal form. And, equally as sadly, he could only think of one person who, even though they had been at odds in the past, had never tried to bring him to harm.

"Gods," he groaned to himself, teeth chattering. "Not--"

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"Jack Spicer! I have need of you!" Chase Young declared, stepping through the dimensional rift in the evil genius's lab.

"'Happy Days is my favorite theme song

I could sure kick your butt in a game of ping pong

I'll ace any trivia quiz you bring on

I'm fluent in JavaScript as well as Klingon'"

Jack's voice came drifting through the laboratory. Chase blinked. What was-hadn't the boy heard him?

"Spicer?" Chase asked hesitantly.

"'They see me roll on -- a Segue

I know in my heart they think I'm white and nerdy.

Think I'm just too white and nerdy

Think I'm just too white and nerdy

Can't you see I'm white and nerdy?

Lookit me; I'm white and nerdy

I'd like to roll with -- the Heylin

Although it's apparent I'm too white and nerdy. "

Chase scowled. He needed help, not a serenade. Following the sound of the goth teen's voice, the evil warlord found Jack Spicer waist deep in the engine of one of his air cars.

"Spicer! Spicer!"

Jack continued to ignore him, the youth's torso buried in the engine cavity and his lower half swaying slightly in tune with his own singing.

"'I'm nerdy in the extreme

I'm whiter than sour cream.

I was in the A/V club and glee club and even the chess team!

The only question I ever thought was hard

Was 'Do I like Kirk or do I like Picard?

Spend every weekend at the Renaissance Faire

Got my name in my underwear'"

"You had better be wearing those personal music devices!" Chase yelled. "If you're simply ignoring me, I'll-I'll . . . Even like this I can make you suffer, Spicer!"

The ancient warrior stood behind Jack, staring up at the teenager's shimmying rear end with mounting anger. Why had he never noticed how tall Spicer was before? And it seemed to be all leg, too. The teen had removed his trench coat to work on his vehicle and Chase's eye landed on the leather belt cinched around the goth youth's trim waist. Running a few steps to gather momentum, Chase leapt up and grabbed hold of the belt, crashing into Jack's rear in the process.

"Jack Spicer, if you don't-"

The ancient warlord never got to finish his threat. As soon as the genius felt his rear get tackled from behind, he shrieked in surprise, straightening up with surprising force and cracking his head on the raised hood of the air car. The force of the blow actually knocked the genius's earbuds out. Bending again, he staggered backwards, clutching his aching head and wondering what the hell had just latched onto his butt. Too big for a cat; not enough teeth for a dog . . . a monkey, maybe?

Jack was just coming to this hypothesis when the weight let go and fell to the floor. The teen, still staggering backwards, promptly tripped over the whatever-it-was, his lanky body crashing mercilessly onto the concrete floor.

"Ow . . .What the-?" Jack sat up gingerly and looked at his attacker.

A little boy, no more than four years old and wearing only an adult's shirt, glared back at him.

"What the-how the-Geez, kid, who let you in here?!" He demanded. The little Chinese boy glared at him with enough venom to not only kill, but chop up the body and leave it strewn about the room; glared at him with ancient golden eyes that belied such young age. Golden eyes . . ? The kid also had long, dark hair with green highlights . . . and . . . strangely pointed ears?

"Ch-Chase?" Jack asked in disbelief. Chase had had quite enough for one day and in irritation said something very childish:

"Don't you dare laugh at me, Spicer!" Jack's red eyes widened slightly, and then his lips compressed in a tight, thin line.

"'M not laughin'," he squeaked between gritted teeth.

"Then why are you biting your lip?" Chase snapped, feeling the last of his patience dwindle away. Jack's white cheeks, bunched up and tight, were starting to flush pink with the effort of keeping his bottled up amusement contained.

"I - uh, just remembered something funny I - uh - saw on TV last night?" The goth teen offered. Clenching his suddenly tiny fists, Chase Young leapt to his feet.

"You listen to me, Jack Spicer. Those pathetic excuses for Xiaolin Dragons-by sheer, ignorant luck-formed the Sutra of Purification. It's their fault I'm trapped in this joke of a body. And while I have long, excruciating, and merciless plans for them once this little affair is over, in the meantime, I require your assistance. Do not fail me!"

"O-Okay," Jack stammered, cringing. It wasn't fair: Chase could still terrify him even though the evil lord was now standing, Jack was sitting flat on his butt, and they were eye to eye. "What do you need me to do?"

"I require access to my home. My warriors are heedless of my commands while I am like this," Chase sneered down at his small, soft body. "Also, Wuya is there and no doubt plans to take advantage of the situation. But first and foremost, Spicer, I require clothing that fits, something hot in my stomach, and I wish to know where your bathroom is located."

"Oh. Uh. Bathroom's up the stairs, third door on your right," Jack said, pointing to the stairs leading to the main house. "I'll have one of the Jackbots bring down some of my old clothes from the attic. And . . . um . . . I guess I could heat up some ravioli."

"Very well," Chase intoned regally. He gathered up the hem of his shirt with much more dignity than he should have been able to muster. "I am going to take a bath. When I am finished, I expect a fresh set of clothing, a hot meal, and then we shall discuss how I am going to re-take my home."

"Uh-," Jack started.

Chase arched an eyebrow. "Any questions, Spicer?"

"Don't you mean 'how we are going to retake your home'?"

"No." The ancient warrior stated coldly. "I don't."

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Jack muttered impolite words under his breath as he emptied the can of pasta into the saucepan. Snotty little brat; Chase had come to his house begging for help and what did he want Jack to do? Make him something to eat, get him some clean clothes, and show him the potty. Jack's mouth twisted up at the thought of Baby Chase needing to be led to the bathroom. He should use that phrase around the evil warlord; after all, it wasn't like the little ankle biter could do anything about it now.

"I suppose you think this is amusing, Spicer?" a voice behind him growled.

Jack yelped, leaping forward into the stove and promptly burning his hand on the hot saucepan. Clutching his hand, the goth teen spun around. Chase was standing directly behind him, holding out a child's T-shirt. The dragon lord had put on Jack's old black jeans, socks, and black sneakers, but his chest was bare. The shirt he was holding at arm's length, also black, was printed with the legend 'I heart the Dark Side' in cheery blue and white letters.

"Owww! Chase, you made me burn my hand!" Jack whined, stepping over to the sink to run cold water over the injury. "And what's wrong with that shirt? You love being evil."

"I will not be made a mockery of, Spicer," Chase snarled.

"You asked for clothes, I got you clothes that fit. I even washed and dried them first. The Jackbots are cleaning the next load now so you can have something new for tomorrow. Anyway, if that's not something you want to wear, I'm sure there's still some Hello Kitty shirts in the box that would fit you."

Chase turned the shirt around to glare suspiciously at the words, but looked back up at Jack at the last sentence.

"Hello Kitty?"

"Yeah. My Mom-Well, Mom always wanted a daughter, and I think she believed if she dressed me in girly clothes I'd get the hint and change genders," Jack said uncomfortably.

"Hmm. That explains much," Chase said. With a shrug, he pulled the T-shirt over his head and pulled his hair out of the back.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Jack snapped.

Chase fixed him with a smug, evil grin. "It is 'supposed to mean' that you behave with all the mincing and femininity of the average debutante. You're as weak and helpless as a woman, Spicer. Now that you inform me that you were raised as one, it explains much. But don't worry-I'm sure that some day you'll find a man to take care of you."

Jack's red eyes narrowed hatefully.

"You talk big for a femmy-looking little boy with hair down past his butt," the evil genius spat. "In fact, if you're not careful, you might find all your nice butch boys' clothes gone in the morning and some frilly pink dresses there instead!"

Chase's own golden eyes narrowed. He glared up the length of Jack Spicer-such length; had the boy always been so tall?-and realized there was a pressure point on the inside of Jack's thigh that was within his shortened reach. Even a light strike there would leave Spicer curled up on the floor in his own private world of pain. Giving the goth teen a smug smirk, the dragon lord sharply brought two fingers down on Jack's thigh.

The albino youth twitched.

"Ow! That hurt!" Jack snapped, shoving by Chase. "Keep this up and you can get your own damn ravioli!"

Chase Young stared up at Jack, momentary squabbles about clothing forgotten. Spicer was a notorious weakling; that strike should have laid him on the ground for five minutes. Perhaps . . . Yes, Chase had miscalculated the strength of his new body and had given the self-proclaimed Prince of Darkness nothing more than a rough poke. The dragon lord approached Jack as he poured the now hot pasta into a bowl and set it at the large island in the middle of the kitchen. Spicer scowled at him, but said nothing as he retrieved a spoon for the ravioli and a high stool to sit on.

"It's not Lao Mang Lone, but it's hot. I guess . . . um, there's probably some milk or something in the fridge," he groused, still miffed. A small hand reached out and caught hold of his jeans. Jack felt a twinge of guilt. Chase was staring up at him with a look of uncertainty that was so . . . so childlike that it even stirred Spicer's nearly non-existent paternal instincts.

"But-I bet there's some chocolate syrup in there, too," he offered, giving a helpful smile.

Chase blinked up at him with huge gold eyes, and then delivered a knife hand strike to the inside of Jack's thigh with as much strength as he could muster.

Pain shot down the teen's leg to his toes, raced back up to his spine and detonated in the back of his skull. He felt his knee start to buckle and staggered back a step before he managed to catch himself.

"Ooooooooooowww!!! What the hell was that for, you little bastard?!?" Jack screamed.

Chase seemed unconcerned by his yelling, simply putting one hand over his mouth as he pondered the reaction.

"My strength is a bit . . . . . less than I thought," the evil overlord murmured uneasily.

"You had to hit me twice to figure out a toddler is a lot weaker than an adult?! Are you finally starting to go senile?" Jack howled.

Chase glared at the pale youth. "Watch it, Spicer. I may not be up to my normal strength, but--"

"Yeah, yeah, you can make me suffer!" Jack snapped. The evil boy genius grabbed Chase under the arms, ignoring the warrior's startled expression and deposited him less than gently on the stool. "Here's a spoon, now eat your damn pasta and leave me in peace!"