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Everything Xander Knows About Time Travel
(He Learned from Back to the Future)
by Soft Princess and Mireille

February/March 2007
34,148 words

HUGE thanks to WesleysGirl for beta-reading this for us, and to KateKat for the gorgeous banner and icons we're using for this.
For spring_with_xan.

***

"You want me to what?" Xander looked at Giles in disbelief.

"We need to recover this artifact--"

"Yes, I got that part. What I have a problem with is the part where I have to go into the past to get it." Xander turned his head toward Willow and continued. "You can't expect me to just--just go with this. I mean... Time travel, Willow!"

Willow bit her lower lip and looked to Giles for advice, only to have him shrug. "Look," she said, "we'd ask someone else, except there isn't anyone else!"

"You are the only one who can touch it without risking your life--" Giles added.

"Because I don't have magical powers, or something?"

"Exactly!" Willow smiled in that way of hers that meant she thought she'd get her way. Which of course, she would, because she was Willow, and Xander could never say no to her when she was looking at him like that. And then there was Giles; he looked nervous, almost like he was hiding something from Xander and Willow both. Xander was still too shocked at the idea that he was going to go back in time to ask about it. Or, you know, care.

Except if it led to badness. It didn't look like badness-leading nervousness, though, just plain old nervousness.

And since when did Xander pay so much attention to what Giles was feeling, anyway?

"We know dozens of people who don't have any magical powers," he felt compelled to add, even though he knew he was going to do this. "I'm sure you can--"

"No." Giles sounded definite, like there was no way Xander could talk his way out of this. "We need someone we can trust, Xander, and no one else fits this description as well as you do. This artifact cannot fall into the wrong hands, and the wrong hands, in this case, are the Council's old guard."

Well, that explained why they were meeting here, at Giles' house, instead of at the Council headquarters. Usually, even though Giles had a couple of spare bedrooms open to any of the former Scoobies who were in England, they took care of all the Watcherly stuff at the office. "Why? I mean, badass demon, we kill it. Why wouldn't they want that too?" Xander asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Because they have no wish to see this prophecy thwarted--at least not by us. They want to see us fail, and they believe we will because the Talisman of Memanggil has been lost since the seventies." Giles paused. "That may partly be my own fault," he admitted. "I've tried to downplay the crisis while Willow and I looked for a solution, and they may not realize precisely what it is that we're facing."

"Which is where this time-traveling spell and I come in."

"Yes."

Okay, now there was exasperation in Giles' voice. Time to stop playing around. "I'll do it; of course I'll do it. You knew that."

Willow squealed and hugged him, and for a moment, Xander was transported back to high school, when that happened a lot more often than it did these days. Sometimes, growing up sucked. He hugged her back, and then she released him, with a smile on her face. "All right, I'll go get my notes and things, and--and I'll be back."

When she was gone, Xander shook his head and turned back to Giles. "Does it really have to happen today?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Giles said, standing. "It can't wait any longer. Once we have the talisman, it will still take quite some time to perform the ritual."

"All right, then." Xander looked down at his clothes and then back up at Giles. "Do I look like a seventies guy to you? You were there; you can tell better than I can."

Giles looked him over a lot more critically than Xander thought the situation really deserved. It wasn't like he was wearing anything that weird. Finally, he nodded. "You'll look a little out of place; there's something about the cut of your jeans that doesn't seem right, and I'm not certain about your shirt. But you can blame some of that on being from America, and most people won't be any the wiser." Then he added, "What about the rest of the clothes you brought with you? Are they like these?"

"The rest of--Giles, I'm not going to be there that long. I don't need to bring a suitcase."

There was that weird hesitation from Giles again, like there was a lot more to this than he was telling Xander. That was just Xander being paranoid, though, he was sure; there was no way that Giles would send him back in time thirty years without telling him what to expect. "We can't be certain you'll be able to get the talisman quickly," Giles said.

"I thought you said you knew where it was."

"We do," Giles said. "Or at least, I know where it was supposed to be. If our information is incorrect, or if you have more difficulty acquiring it than we anticipated, you'll be glad to have a few things with you."

Okay, Giles had a point. Xander didn't like his point, but he did have one. "I didn't bring much," Xander said. "I wasn't expecting to be in England all that long." And his wardrobe wasn't all that large, anyway. "Jeans, t-shirts--"

"Plain?"

"Yeah. Mostly white."

Giles nodded. "You'll do," he said. "Just don't let anyone look too closely at the tags."

Xander snorted. "I don't think I'm going to be getting that friendly with anyone," he said, and then grinned when Giles cleared his throat and looked away. He and Giles might be on a more equal level now, but it was still fun to embarrass him from time to time. He didn't get much chance for joking around like that, these days. Another entry in the "growing up sucks" column.

"Er... perhaps not," Giles agreed, before reaching under his desk and taking out a large shopping bag. "There are a few things in here you'll need," he said. "Some money that's been carefully checked to make certain the dates won't arouse suspicion, identification with an appropriate date of birth on it--"

"Okay, I'm impressed," Xander said, taking the bag from him. "I mean, I know the Council has more resources than we did back in Sunnydale, even these days, but I didn't know that they could work this fast." Willow had told him that she and Giles had only come up with the time-travel idea yesterday. He opened the bag, looking inside and frowning. "What do I need with a leather jacket?"

Giles cleared his throat again. "Er. I'm... I was familiar with the address we're sending you to," he said, then added, "That's in the wallet along with the money and the I.D. If you want to... to blend in, I think you'll find that helpful."

"Okay," Xander said doubtfully. He took the wallet out from underneath the jacket, putting it in his back pocket and handing his own billfold over to Giles. "Keep that for me, okay? There's stuff in there I don't want to lose." Pictures, mostly, of people he was never going to see again.

"I'll put it in the safe," he assured Xander.

Xander nodded, shrugging the jacket on. "It fits okay," he said. "So, do I look right now?"

Giles looked him over again. "I think--yes," he said. "Yes, you look right."

Xander nodded. "Okay, then. Maybe I should go get my suitcase?"

"Yes, that would be best. Meet us in the study once you're ready."

"Yeah, sure." Xander picked up the now-empty bag again and left the room, heading straight for the bedroom he used whenever he was in town. It didn't take him long, since he'd only arrived yesterday and hadn't had time to unpack. A few t-shirts, a couple pairs of jeans, some underwear and socks, and he was set to go. He wondered about toothpaste and brush, but decided not to bring them. He'd just have to buy them when he got there.

It kind of felt weird, a bit like he was just going on yet another trip in search of a Slayer, not traveling back in time thirty years to find a missing talisman that was the last hope in stopping the latest apocalypse.

He had to admit, though, it was kind of exciting. He'd get to see what life looked like before he was even born.

And in some ways, at least, it ought to be easier than looking for a new Slayer; Giles said the talisman was in London, and so Xander'd be able to count on people speaking English. That wasn't always a guarantee in the places the Council had been sending him lately, not when he got away from the cities and into small villages. Xander had been lucky so far, but it always worried him.

Of course, he thought, as he put the last of his clothes back into his backpack, when he was looking for a Slayer, he didn't have to worry about changing the course of human history. He'd seen enough sci-fi movies to know that he was going to have to be careful.

Xander shook his head. What was he worrying about? Giles was being cautious, suggesting that he take clothes along with him, but it wasn't going to be a problem. Willow would do her thing, Xander would do his thing, and then he'd come back. He wouldn't have time to change history. If things went the way they were supposed to, he'd barely have time to look around.

If things went the way they were supposed to. That was the tricky part, wasn't it? Because things rarely--if, you know, ever--went how they should. Shaking that thought away again, Xander zipped up his bag and flung it over his shoulder. He took one last look at the room to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything and went downstairs.

"There you are!" Willow was practically bouncing, and the grin on her face was enough to scare Xander a little.

He couldn't remember the last time she'd been this excited about anything, really, and Xander wondered for a moment if that wasn't a sign that this would go very wrong. Oh God, he really hoped not. "You guys were already waiting for me?"

"Well, I've told Willow we don't have to do the spell right away," Giles said, turning around from where he was sitting on the floor painting some kind of pentagram. "We have at least a couple of hours of leeway, but she doesn't want to wait."

Willow blushed and looked down. "Hey, this is huge, you know, sending someone into the past? It's--it's--" Giles frowned at her, and she sat down on the couch with a sheepish expression. "Anyway, Giles just needs to finish the pentagram, and then we can do it whenever you're ready."

Xander nodded and dropped his bag to the floor, staring at the symbols Giles was meticulously painting on the floor. He wondered if it was going to come off afterwards, or if Giles would have a permanent reminder of this spell. Maybe he would put a carpet over it. Or repaint the floor. Xander could do that, when--if--he came back.

His stomach growled and he looked up at Giles. "Um, can I eat something first?"

"I don't see why n--" Giles began, just as Willow interrupted him.

"Better not," she said.

"Willow, you heard Giles, we have a couple of hours. It won't take me that long to eat a sandwich."

Willow gave him an apologetic grin. "It's not the time, it's--you know how you used to get carsick?"

It wasn't exactly used to, at least not if he couldn't be in the front seat, but Xander just nodded.

"And airsick?"

"Willow--" Xander began, wanting to stop her before this became Humiliate Xander Day, but she went on.

"Oh, and remember when our class went on that boat ride on the eighth grade field trip and you were seasick?"

"I can take Dramamine," Xander argued. It was how he'd gotten here without being miserable, after all; there was still some in his bag. "And it's time travel, it's not a ferry!" He glanced over at Giles, who was doing a very good job of pretending he wasn't listening. At least he could be grateful for small favors.

"I know, but better safe than sorry?" she said. "You can eat when get there. Or when you come back," she added, "if it doesn't take you very long to get the talisman."

"Yeah," Xander said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Speaking of coming back, there's definitely a way for me to get back, right?"

"Of course!" Willow held up a small silver chain with an oval pendant hanging from it. "This amulet will be the focal point for the time travel spell," she said. "See the glass in the middle? All you have to do is break it, and you'll be back here--a few minutes after you left, just to make sure we don't accidentally get two of you."

"It's that simple?" Xander said, doubtfully.

"Absolutely," Willow assured him.

"And you're sure it'll work?"

"Of course!" From behind her, Giles cleared his throat, and Willow flushed. "I mean, we haven't been able to test it, but in theory--"

"Am I going to be able to get back or not?" Xander asked.

"Yes," she said, very firmly. "At least... I'm almost a hundred percent certain."

"Giles?" Xander said, still trying not to sound panicked. Going back in time was one thing--one really, really freaky thing--but not being able to get back was not only bad, but sounded like it defeated the purpose of him going there in the first place.

Giles sighed. "The theory is sound, Xander, and I have every faith in Willow's ability to perform the spell."

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means yes, Xander. Trust me; you won't be trapped in 1976."

"And there's no other choice, anyway, is there?" When Giles shook his head, Xander sighed. "All right."

Giles turned back to the pentagram, but Xander could swear he was smiling when he said: "I'm sure you'll be able to find something to eat in 1976."

"Okay, then," Xander said. He clasped his hands together, and sat down on the sofa, nervously chewing his lower lip. "So, anything else I need to know, like, uh, what this Talisman of Mem--Memo--"

"--Memanggil," Willow repeated for him.

"--yeah. Do we know what it looks like?"

Giles frowned, and finished the line he was painting before answering. "We haven't been able to find a full description of it. Only that it is very old, made of silver, and heavier than it looks."

"Okay, so I'm looking for something old and shiny, and I have to make sure not to break my back when I lift it up. Great."

"Xander," Giles said, putting the paint and brush away. "We wouldn't have asked you if we didn't feel you were the best choice for this mission, but if you're that determined not to go--"

Xander sighed. "No, I'll go, it's just that, you know, fifteen minutes ago, I was planning on spending a quiet week visiting with friends, and now--well, now I'm traveling thirty some years in the past to find some old artifact so that we can save the world. Again." He gave Giles a nervous grin. "It's kind of nerve-wracking."

"I can only imagine."

"I'm doing way too much imagining about it right now," he said, with a shaky laugh. "Maybe Willow's right and we should just get it over with."

"Are you quite certain?" Giles asked, and Xander nodded. Not that he was actually certain, but he wasn't going to feel any better about this an hour from now.

"Yeah. I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be," he said.

"Then we may as well get started," Giles said, and Willow stepped forward, holding out the chain.

"You need to wear this," she said, and Xander bent down so she could put it around his neck.

"I don't know, Will. I don't think it's me," he teased, trying to distract himself from his nervousness.

Willow grinned back at him. "You can take it off when you're there if you want, as long as you don't lose it," she said, "but it needs to be touching you for the spell to work right." Xander straightened back up.

"Okay, wait. I think I see a flaw in your plan. If it needs to be touching me, how am I supposed to break it when I want to get home? I'm not hitting myself in the chest with a hammer."

She shook her head. "You don't have to. The spell sends whoever's wearing the pendant back in time. Once you're back there, anyone could break it for you--breaking it just undoes the spell's effects and brings you back here." She patted him on the arm. "Now go stand in the middle of the circle."

Xander grabbed his bag again and stepped closer to the pentagram on the floor. "So, is it dry? I don't really want to have paint on my shoes. You know, I might transfer it over to 1976, and I wouldn't want to change the past."

Giles shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You are aware that the past has already happened? And so your presence there has also happened, and as such, if you happen to change anything, it has already been changed? In fact, it is not 'change' as such, since it's already happened."

Xander just blinked. "Huh. I think that's too much thinking for me just now."

"All right." Giles actually smiled this time. "It should be dry enough; just stand in the middle. It should only take a minute."

"That fast? So I guess this is goodbye," Xander said, stepping into the circle and clutching at the handle on his bag. "Although, not really, because for you guys, this is going to last just like, three minutes. So I should just say: see you in a minute, or something."

Willow smiled. "Good luck," she said.

"Yeah, I'm thinking I'm going to need it," Xander said. No matter what Giles said, he'd seen Back to the Future. Maybe he couldn't change the past, but he really didn't want to take the chance.

"You're going to be fine," she said encouragingly, before moving back to consult with Giles for a moment. Xander watched as the two of them lit some herbs--Xander had been around Willow enough to recognize the smell of burning sage, but other than that, he had no idea what they were--and Giles picked up a book and began to read something in Latin.

The glass-and-metal disk on the chain around his neck felt warmer, even through his shirt; not burning hot, but something was definitely happening. Xander decided he didn't want to watch the rest of the spell. He didn't know what traveling back in time almost thirty years was going to look like, but Willow's reminder of his tendency to get motion sickness made him think it was probably a good idea not to find out.

"So, huh, how long is this going to take, guys?" Xander asked, licking his lips. "I don't really want to get sick, you know, and do you know what it'll feel like? I can't feel anything right now, except that the thing's kind of warm, but--" Xander stopped babbling, finally realizing that he couldn't hear Giles chanting anymore. "Guys? Willow? Giles?"

Xander blinked. "Huh." It was dark, but not completely. There was some light on somewhere, and Xander could see enough to know that he was in some kind of warehouse. Somewhere.

In 1976.

Probably.

That was kind of anti-climactic. No motion sickness, no twirling, no noise, just... one moment he was there, and the next he was here. Well, damn.

At least he was here, wherever "here" was. He was going to assume that it was 1976 and London, or he might as well send himself home now. So he needed to figure out where it was he was supposed to go.

Xander took the wallet out of his back pocket, opening it up and pausing for a moment to look at the California driver's license--he wasn't sure if that's what they really looked like in the seventies, but it didn't look like the last one he'd gotten, that was for sure--with the 1952 birth date on it.

1952.

His parents weren't born in 1952.

Come to think of it, his parents were still in high school right now. On the other side of the world, if Giles and Willow got the spell right, but in high school.

Okay, that was officially weird.

Xander found the note tucked into the wallet, with an address written on it in Giles' handwriting. Supposedly, that was where he'd be able to find the last person known to have had the talisman. Hopefully, he'd find the thing itself there, and this would only take a few minutes for him, as well as for everyone back home.

It was hard to read the address in the dim light, but Xander squinted at it until he had it memorized. Then, sticking the wallet back in his pocket, he headed toward what he thought was the way out of here. The sooner he found the place, the sooner he'd be back where he belonged.

It took him about fifteen minutes to find the way out. Which was really stupid, because the exit door was right behind where he'd been standing at first. "Way to go, Xander," he muttered to himself, as he walked out into the empty parking lot. "Not even here for an hour yet, and already being an idiot."

He looked around, and headed for the busy street he could see on the left. There should be cabs, right? Or at least somewhere he could buy a map. He wasn't sure how long the money Giles had given him would last, but he ought to be able to afford that. Especially since he really didn't want to be stuck there long enough for money to be a problem.

Luckily, there was a cab coming down the street, and it stopped when Xander waved at it.
"Where to, lad?"

Xander rattled off the address, startled for some reason at having to speak.

The cab driver laughed. "That's just over there," the man said, turning around and waving up the street. "Ain't worth a cab ride. Crazy Americans," he added, shaking his head, as Xander closed the door.

Xander looked up the street with a frown, and barely registered the cab driving away. He flung his bag over his shoulder again, and with a deep breath, he started walking. He could do this. Really.

His first--hopefully not only--stroke of luck was that it looked like he wasn't going to have to knock on someone's front door. If he'd read the address right, it looked like he was heading for a bar. Not the kind he sometimes went to at lunchtime with Andrew when he was in London, where Andrew went on at length about "traditional British pubs" and Xander wished he had a Quarter Pounder.

Definitely not. This was the kind with guys in leather jackets and girls with too much makeup and loud music pouring out into the street every time someone opened the door.

For a minute, Xander hesitated; there was no way he could go in somewhere like that without attracting a lot of attention. Then he shook his head. If no one looked too closely, his clothes would fit in. About the only good thing the eyepatch was that it made people less likely to look too closely.

He'd go in there, figure out how the hell anyone in there would know where the talisman he needed was, and be done in half an hour--an hour, at the most. Then he could go home.

Xander was reaching in his pocket to get some money for the cover charge when he realized that everyone was just walking in. Well, when in Rome...

He walked in, but came to a stop when he saw the crowd. "Whoa, this might be harder than I thought." He clung to his backpack and walked further in, or at least tried to.

It took him about five seconds to realize that he wouldn't get anywhere, at least, not now. Xander settled against the wall, not too far from the door, surveying the throng of people coming in and out of the place. After a while, the band stopped playing, although the crowd didn't thin out any; Xander was just glad the place had gotten a little quieter.

"Can't wait to hear them play."

Xander blinked and turned to his left, finding a man leaning just a few feet away. "Huh?"

"The band! They're the best thing this pub's ever seen! What are you, daft?"

Xander continued blinking. "I'm sorry, I'm--not from around here." Well, that was an understatement.

"American?"

"Uh, yeah." Also, not born yet. Xander shrugged. "I'm just, uh. Meeting someone here," he said. He looked at the man again, hoping that maybe coincidence would work in his favor, but decided he didn't look like someone who'd have anything more valuable than a joint in his possession. He wasn't really a man, either, more like a kid, maybe eighteen or nineteen. Xander reminded himself that when Willow was nineteen, she'd been a pretty powerful witch, but still, this probably wasn't his guy.

If it was even a guy; he could be looking for a woman. He wished Giles had had more information about who had owned the talisman before it disappeared.

The band had just finished packing up their instruments, and a second group was taking their place onstage. This must be the band the guy was talking about; everyone seemed to be waiting, at least half their attention on the stage while they talked and drank.

Xander slowly edged his way toward the bar while the second band set up, figuring that maybe he'd see someone or something that gave him an idea of what to do next. He was at a loss; this really just looked like a bar filled with obnoxious college or college-aged kids, not a hangout for people with collections of rare magical artifacts.

Finally, just as Xander managed to weave his way through the crowd to get closer to both the bar and the stage, the band started to play. It sounded vaguely familiar--maybe something that had been in the background of a movie or in a commercial, in his time. Maybe he was watching the beginnings of some famous rock band, he thought, then, as the drummer missed a beat and struggled to recover, he decided it was a lot more likely that they were just doing a cover of something by a much better band. It wouldn't be hard to find a much better band.

The rest of the band wasn't too horrible, though, on about the same level with what Xander had heard every weekend at the Bronze back in high school. Then the lead singer stalked up to the microphone, pulling it toward him and beginning to sing--well, snarl into the mic, but the crowd seemed to like it.

Maybe they did turn out to be famous, Xander thought in surprise; that voice was familiar. It sounded like--like-- It sounded like Giles, he realized, but that was ridiculous. The guy must sound like somebody else, who kind of sounded like Giles, and Xander was just--

An image flashed into Xander's mind: a black-and-white photo of a young guy with shaggy hair and a leather jacket, holding a guitar. And he knew Giles could sing; he'd heard him at that coffeehouse in Sunnydale....

Then the singer turned in his direction, his gaze scanning the audience, obviously looking for someone or something. For the first time, Xander got a clear look at the man's face.

"Oh. My. God." Xander stood there, mouth hanging open.

It didn't only sound like Giles, it was Giles. Shaggy haired, unwrinkled, young Giles. Probably even younger than Xander, but Giles.

"Oh, my God," Xander repeated.

No way in hell could this just be a coincidence. Giles had known. Oh he had to have known, with all that stuff he'd said about the past having already happened. He'd known, and he hadn't told Xander a thing. "Well, fuck."

How was he supposed to approach the younger, wilder version of his ex-high school librarian? He couldn't just walk up to him and say 'Hi, younger-Giles, I know you from the future. Want to help me find an old, silvery talisman?' Besides, if Xander remembered correctly, and he was pretty sure he did, chocolate-drugged Giles had called himself "Ripper."

There was no way that could be good.

At least Xander had until the end of their set to find a way to talk with this kid--because really, that was what Ripper was. "I bet he's younger than me," Xander said to himself, blushing when a couple of people on his left looked at him, even though they couldn't have heard him over the racket.

The band wasn't even that good, and while Xander had heard Giles sing, and it hadn't been bad (brain-meltingly weird, yes, but not bad), Ripper was too concerned with trying to sound like a bad-ass to actually sing.

And he was going to have to stand here and listen to all of it, because there was no way it was just a coincidence that he and young-and-obnoxious-Giles were both here. Xander scowled. He knew Willow had been in a hurry, but you'd think Giles could have at least mentioned this.

On the bright side, at least Xander could be pretty sure he would be able to get the talisman, if Giles knew he'd come back to get it. Probably. He was still going to stick to the science-fiction movie theory of time travel and not get overconfident about that.

Especially since the other thing he remembered about younger-than-him Giles was that he hadn't exactly been one of the good guys.

Half an hour, and two warm beers--for courage--later, Ripper and his group finished their set, and the crowd erupted in cheers, the noise driving Xander to cover his ears. The bartender laughed as he picked up Xander's empty bottle. "You might want to wait a bit before leaving, lad, the crowd'll be horrible on the way out."

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan," Xander muttered, watching as the group members exited the stage. "Hey, you know if there's any way I can meet the singer?" he asked.

"Ripper? Yeah, I reckon he'll be in the alley with the girls in a bit. No need to hurry, he'll be there a while. You might even want to wait a half-hour; he likes the attention."

With a nod, Xander asked for another beer and looked away from the crowd. It was starting to feel a little too claustrophobic in here.

He drank the third beer more slowly, less out of any sense of caution than because he really didn't get how people could claim they liked warm beer. At least some people were starting to leave. The band must have been done for the night, since he hadn't heard the bartender announce last call, and it still seemed to be fairly early.

That reminded him to check his watch; it wasn't digital, so it had gotten past Giles' inspection. He might as well have left it at home, though; it still announced that it was three-twenty in the afternoon. "Got the time?" he asked the bartender. "My watch must've stopped."

The bartender looked very pointedly at the clock on the wall.

"Oh. Thanks," Xander said. Nine-thirty. Still pretty early; that meant there'd probably be another set later. Xander set his watch, setting his glass down on the bar. He might as well get this over with.

He walked out. For a moment, he wondered which way he needed to go to get the alley; then he realized that pretty much everyone was heading in the same direction, so he followed them--and quickly realized that he should have gone the other way.

Xander sighed loudly and rubbed his neck, turning around on his heels. "Good start, Harris, very good start."

He finally got to where Giles--um, Ripper, was smoking a cigarette with his entourage of squealing fans. And that was weird. Way weird. Xander's brain really had trouble putting 'Giles' and "squealing fans" in the same sentence.

But that was what they were. Totally fawning over Ripper and hanging on to his every word.

The band wasn't even that good, Xander thought again, as Ripper slung his arm around a girl who looked up at him adoringly.

To be fair, it wasn't just Ripper and the groupies--okay, that was a weird and potentially disturbing thought, but from the looks of things, it was probably right--out in the alley; there were some other guys back there as well, one of whom Xander recognized as the drummer. He hadn't gotten a good look at the rest of the band; he'd been too stunned when he'd seen Ripper.

And he'd been standing there long enough now that he'd been noticed. Ripper looked up at him, upper lip curling into a sneer. "What do you want?"

"I--uh," Xander stuttered, as everyone in the alley turned to look at him.

"Wha-?" Ripper asked, asking, smirking. "Cat got your tongue?"

Stop thinking of him as Giles, Xander told himself. Ripper was just an obnoxious punk who thought he was tough. Xander knew how to deal with that; he'd had enough practice when he'd had Spike living with him.

"I need to talk to you," Xander said.

Ripper looked him over, smirking. "Not my type, mate," he said, as his friends snickered.

"Oh, for--" He had to figure out a way to convince Ripper to listen to him. Giles' father had been a Watcher, right? So Ripper would be at least a little more likely than the average person to believe the whole magical-time-traveling-to-prevent-an-apocalypse speech. The problem was, the rest of the people who could hear him wouldn't be, and Xander was afraid that would make Ripper less willing to hear him out.

Maybe if Ripper thought Xander was from the Council? Well, he was from the Council, but from the Council now. Not that he looked like the old kind of Watcher. But they'd sent guys after Faith who weren't all tweed-wearing and book-reading, so maybe Ripper would think Xander was one of those?

Ripper was looking at him expectantly, waiting for Xander's comeback. It was worth a try. "It's about a girl," Xander began, and Ripper's smirk intensified.

"It's not my problem if your girlfriend forgot you existed after she met me," he said. "Take it up with her."

"Not that kind of girl," Xander said, wondering if Giles would forgive him for smacking his younger self in the back of the head. Think, he told himself. When Buffy used to make fun of Giles' speeches about her destiny, how did she put it? "This is more about... 'one girl in all the world.'" He paused, waiting to see if that sunk in.

From the way Ripper's head came up, his eyes narrowing as he studied Xander again, it had. "Our next set's in five minutes," he said. "If what you have to say is so bloody important, wait around afterward."

"Whatever you say," Xander muttered, watching Ripper turn around and heading back inside through the back door, his friends following like sheep. "You are so going to pay for this, Giles."

There was no way Xander was heading back in there; the crowd had been giving him a headache, and the music hadn't helped at all. So he settled against the wall and waited.

For the first time in pretty much ever, Xander wished for a cigarette, or at least something to do while he stood there. It probably wasn't very safe for him to stay in a deserted alley on his own, he realized, but then shrugged. At this point, he would even welcome a vampire or two. The fight would be a good distraction.

Because thinking about the talk that lay ahead really, seriously, didn't help. What would he say anyway? "Hi, I'm from the future," probably wouldn't go down very well, and Xander didn't want to say anything that could get him beaten up. And he was pretty sure Ripper could punch him pretty good, if he wanted to. He'd seen Giles fight, after all.

"Well, shit," Xander murmured, sighing. "The truth's gonna have to do." No way he could come up with a story that mini-Giles would believe. He might be young and a complete punk, but Giles was intelligent, and Xander was pretty sure that hadn't just started to develop after his wild days. He'd see right through Xander's story, and that would be even worse than him not believing the future thing.

About an hour after their little conversation, Ripper and his band came back outside, quickly--very, very quickly--followed by another group of girls. Xander didn't try to interfere. He sighed, told himself to be patient, and leaned back against the wall, occasionally stealing glances at the group a few feet away.

He made eye contact with Ripper once and could see how surprised he was to see that Xander was still there. He'd obviously hoped Xander had given up and gone away. The thought made Xander smirk, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Yeah, he could wait.

After a while, the girls started drifting away--some of them leaving with the other members of the band, others walking off in small groups. Xander had watched enough teenaged girls in his life to know they were struggling to stay cool and not start giggling until they were well out of Ripper's sight.

Finally, there were just a few people left in the alley--the drummer from the band, the girl who'd been hanging onto his arm the whole time, and another guy, who'd been leaning against the wall and smoking the entire time. He hadn't seemed to be paying much attention to the girls, but Xander had seen the guy giving him a few suspicious glances from time to time.

"We're off, then," the drummer said, dropping his cigarette and stubbing it out with the toe of his boot, "unless...." He glanced over at Xander, then back at Ripper.

Ripper snorted. "He won't be any trouble," he said.

"Ta, then," the other man said, taking the girl's hand and heading down the alley toward the street.

Ripper waited for a moment, then looked over at the third man, who was showing no signs that he was paying attention to anything but his own cigarette. "See you back at the flat, all right?" When the man didn't respond, Ripper went on, a definite edge in his voice. "'s family stuff, Ethan. Probably rubbish."

"Then why even bother?" the other man drawled, and Xander blinked. Whoa. Ethan. As in, evil-chocolate, enchanted-costumes, turn-Giles-into-a-demon Ethan? As he stepped forward, Xander got a better look at his face, confirming his suspicions. Definitely that Ethan. Which meant he'd almost definitely arrived in the middle of Giles' kind-of-evil phase. Great. That was just what this had needed.

"So he'll go away and stay gone," Ripper said. "Just go on, all right?"

Ethan flicked an ash off the end of his cigarette, shrugging. "Waste of time, if you ask me."

"I didn't," Ripper said, but he grinned as Ethan slouched off down the alley in the opposite direction than the drummer had taken. His grin disappeared immediately, though, as he turned back to Xander. "You're from the Council."

"Kind of," Xander agreed.

Ripper leaned back against the wall, dropping his cigarette and folding his arms across his chest. "My father sent you."

"Actually, no," he said.

That earned him another scornful snort from Ripper. "The rest of them wouldn't have come looking for me."

"Your dad didn't send me. I've never even met him," Xander said, suddenly realizing that he'd never asked Giles about his parents. Were they even alive, back in the real--back in Xander's time?

"Then who did?" Ripper's arms were still folded. "I don't know enough to be dangerous, so you can't be part of an official retrieval team." He was doing his best to hide that he was worried, Xander thought, but it was coming through in his voice.

"Hey, no," Xander said. "Nothing like that. I just need to talk to you."

"Yeah?" Ripper said, taking a step toward Xander, glaring at him. "Who sent you?" he demanded.

Xander didn't step back; there was no way he was going to let Ripper think he'd managed to intimidate Xander. "The head of the Council," he said.

"Grantham? What does he want with me?" In his surprise, Ripper had let a little of the tough-guy act slip, and now he sounded genuinely nervous.

"No idea. He's not who I was talking about." Xander grinned. "My name's Xander Harris. I'm a Watcher. I was sent here by my boss, and his name is Rupert Giles."

There was a long pause before Ripper started laughing.

Ripper laughed for a long, long time. When he finally stopped, Xander was still standing in the same position he'd been in, trying his best to keep his expression as serious as possible. Which was hard. He hadn't ever realized just how contagious Giles' laugh was, and this was definitely his laugh.

"This is a joke, yeah?"

"Not at all," Xander replied. He scratched the skin under his eyepatch and shook his head. "This is going to sound really crazy, but I'm from the future."

Ripper choked, obviously trying not to laugh again. "Yeah, and in that future of yours, I'm Head of the Council? That's never gonna happen."

"Trust me, it is going to happen."

"Yeah, whatever. Don't know who put you up to this, but it's the funniest thing I've heard in days now," Ripper said, still laughing. "Thanks for the laugh." He gave Xander a two-finger salute that Xander remembered from Spike and turned around.

"I know I can't prove that I'm serious, but I was sent from the future by my boss, who is the head of the Council of Watchers, and is, incidentally, you. Your older and much more intelligent self." Xander paused, watching Ripper stop walking, although he didn't turn back to face Xander. "I'm looking for a talisman that's going to save the world, and apparently, you know where it is. If I don't get that talisman back to 2005, we're facing complete destruction. Slaughter of innocents, demons roaming the streets, open portal to hell thing."

Ripper shrugged. "What's it to me? Thirty years from now, the world's gonna end. I'll be old by then anyway."

"Old?" Xander tried not to chuckle, but couldn't help it. "You're what? Twenty-one, twenty-two? That makes you about fifty--not that you ever told me how old you were--but that really isn't anywhere near old. Never mind that I've known you since I was sixteen, and yeah, you seemed kinda old then. Still got a few good years ahead of you."

"Right," Ripper said, his back still to Xander. "I'm the head of the Council? Looks like the world's already ended."

"The Council's different now--in 2005, I mean."

"Not that different."

"No," Xander admitted. "But, look. Giles--you, I mean--has to remember how you feel about the Council. And he still sent me here. Would he do that if it wasn't important?"

Finally, Ripper turned back to him. "You're barking mad, aren't you? Demons, yeah, doorway to hell, I can believe that. But time travel?"

"I know," Xander said. "I couldn't believe it either, when Willow--uh, she's a friend of mine, she's a witch--told me she could send me back in time."

"So prove you're from the future," Ripper said.

"How do I prove that?"

He grinned. "Tell me what happens."

Xander winced. "I've probably told you too much already," he said. "And besides, I don't know a lot about you before about ten years ago. So, you know, twenty years in your future. How would you know if I was lying?"

"You must know something," Ripper said. "Tell me."

"Well, I, um--" Xander ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of something he knew about Giles that this kid would know, maybe something Buffy had told him, or Willow... Giles never really talked to Xander about anything. There had to be something he could say that would convince Ripper.

"Come on, don't have all night," Ripper said, tapping his foot on the ground and crossing his arms, trying to look menacing, but only managing "annoyed."

"Give me a minute, I'm trying to think," Xander growled back. "It's not like you ever told me anything about your past, I'm not Buffy!"

"You're not what?"

"Buffy," Xander said impatiently. "She's a--Oh! She's your Slayer."

"My Slayer?" Ripper was laughing again, and Xander really, really wanted to strangle him now. "Now I know you're making all this up. There's no way I'm ever becoming one of them. So I can't actually have a Slayer, see?"

Xander sighed loudly, and silently cursed Giles--the older one--for not having given him any kind of clue. He really couldn't think of anything to say that would be giving too much away, because pretty much all Xander knew happened in the future--past--whatever. "Well, you did--go back I mean. Something's gonna happen that's going to make you go back, and you'll become one of the greatest Watchers the Council's ever seen, although I guess they'd call you a pain in the ass--if, you know, they could." He realized that last part might be telling too much, and hoped Ripper didn't pick up on it.

"There's nothing that would make me want to go back," Ripper said scornfully.

Xander shrugged. "I don't know if you wanted to go back. I just know you did. Maybe you thought you had to."

"Because 'something' happened."

"Yeah," Xander agreed, frustrated with this whole conversation. If you'd asked him yesterday, he'd have said he knew Giles pretty well, but now he couldn't think of a single thing about him that he could use to prove to Ripper that Xander did know him. "And no, I can't tell you what."

Ripper looked at him again. "But you know."

This time, Xander's sigh was of relief. "You believe me?"

"Fuck, no," Ripper said. "You're either mad or playing some sort of daft game." But he was still talking to Xander, at least, and Xander thought that had to be a good sign.

"Yeah, okay," Xander said. "I need your help, and this was my brilliant idea of how to convince you, because I want the world to end." He shook his head. "Right now, you're pissing me off in two different decades, you know. You--future-you--just gave me the address of this place and told me that I'd find the last person to see this talisman here. He didn't tell me it'd be him--you--whatever."

"So how do you know it is?" Ripper said, and Xander tried not to smile. It was the first time Ripper had really reminded him of "his" Giles. Giles would have gotten interested in the puzzle even if he found Xander's story hard to swallow, too.

"Oh, come on," Xander said. "That's too big to be coincidence."

"Maybe it is." Ripper had taken another step forward, though this time without the blatant attempt to invade Xander's personal space. He wasn't trying to impress Xander with how tough he was, not just now. "Or maybe it isn't coincidence, and the reason he knows where the talisman was is that <>I know the person who has it? Which would mean you're wasting your time with me."

"That, I already knew," Xander muttered. "Either way, though," he said, this time talking to Ripper, "I'd need your help, wouldn't I? There were a lot of people in that club tonight. How do I know which one it is?"

Ripper grinned. "You don't," he said smugly.

"Great. You've been really helpful." Xander turned around, ready to give up on this conversation. He'd find somewhere to sleep tonight, and then tomorrow he'd come up with a plan B, also known as a way to find this talisman without ever having to talk to Ripper again.

He'd only taken two or three steps when Ripper called out to him. "This talisman. Does it have a name?"

"Meman-something," Xander said. "That's as close as I got to learning it before I got time-warped, sorry."

"What's it look like?"

"Old. Silver. Heavier than it looks," Xander said, repeating back what Giles had told him.

"And it's powerful?"

Xander turned back around, and now it was his turn to give the scornful look. "No, we thought a really good paperweight would help us stop the apocalypse. Do you know anything about it or not?"

"I might," Ripper said. "Convince me I should help you."

Xander scratched his head. "I don't know what more than 'apocalypse' you need, seriously. In my time, you're not that hard to convince. Just pop the word 'apocalypse' in a conversation, and you're all over it, trying to figure out how to stop it."

Ripper laughed again, except this time, it sounded a lot more like the old--older--Giles than his previous laugh had. "Yeah, my dad would be proud."

"Well, I don't know about that, but--"

And it started to rain.

"Great," Xander muttered. "Just great." He looked at Ripper, who was looking up at the sky, hands in the pockets of his shirt. "Got anywhere with a roof where we can go? I don't really want to be soaked to the bone and die of pneumonia six years before I'm even born." Xander had no idea why--considering how much Ripper wasn't buying the whole thing, he'd expected to be laughed at--but Ripper nodded.

"Yeah, follow me."

At least Ripper hadn't used the rain as a chance to get rid of Xander; he might have had doubts about Xander's sanity, but he was still listening. And Xander was going to keep talking as long as he thought he had a chance to convince Ripper that he was telling the truth.

Well, right now he wasn't talking; he had his head down in a futile attempt to keep the rain out of his face, walking along briskly just a step or two behind Ripper. But metaphorically, he was going to keep talking.

Wherever Ripper was taking him, it wasn't far, for which Xander was grateful; he wasn't completely soaked yet, but the rain was coming down harder now and it was just a matter of time.

Ripper led the way into an apartment building--small, old, and run-down--and up two flights of stairs. The door wasn't locked; he opened it and went inside without a word to Xander.

That was less surprising to Xander than it might have been to most people; Xander figured even someone who was doing his best to not be a Watcher didn't want to accidentally let vampires inside. He followed Ripper inside, finding just the kind of place he'd have expected: small, not exactly clean, a couch that had probably been "secondhand" about a decade ago and had now moved solidly into "junk" territory.

And unexpectedly--even though, running through the conversation in the alley in his head, he shouldn't have been surprised--Ethan Rayne, sprawled on the couch, smoking and thumbing through a book that looked just as old and musty as the ones Giles owned in the twenty-first century.

Ethan looked up at the sound of the door, and it was obvious the second he saw Xander from the way his expression darkened. "I thought you were getting rid of him," he said.

Ripper shrugged. "He's harder to get rid of than I expected." He dropped down on the couch next to Ethan, hand casually resting on Ethan's ankle. "It started to rain, and we weren't done talking."

Ethan looked over at Xander, and Xander gave him what he hoped looked like a friendly smile as he pulled up a high-backed wooden chair, turning it around backward before sitting down. He didn't feel very friendly, and he couldn't shake the feeling that meeting someone else he'd known in the future was a bad idea. Giles obviously had remembered him, or he wouldn't have given him this address; what if Ethan did? That could be a world of bad waiting to happen, one of these days.

Xander tried to reassure himself that Ethan would probably only remember the eyepatch.

"Just tell him you're not going back," Ethan said.

Ripper grinned. "He knows I'm not going back," he said. "But it never hurts to know what they're up to, and I don't yet."

Xander cleared his throat. "Maybe we should get back to that," he said, and then, realizing an audience would be a bad thing, he jerked his head slightly in Ethan's direction, trying to hint that Ripper should get rid of him.

Ripper took the hint, and to Xander's surprise, didn't even decide to do the opposite of what Xander wanted. "Give us an hour or so, all right, Ethan? Let me find out what my dad's trying to pull."

"Don't mind me," Ethan said, smirking at Xander before burying his nose in the book again. "Just pretend I'm not here."

"Don't, Ethan," Ripper said, sounding tired. "This is-- I'd explain if I could, but--"

Ethan looked up at him, lips twisting in something that resembled a smile. "But it's Council business, and not for mere mortals to overhear."

Ripper glowered. "It's not like that, and you know it."

"Do I?"

Xander looked down at the floor, wishing he were someplace else. It wasn't all that nasty an argument, as arguments went, but he was getting the feeling that it fell into the category of things that were seriously not his business.

Especially when Ripper turned to Ethan, smiling--not grinning, not smirking, but a smile that made Xander suddenly homesick, reminded of the Giles from his own time--and repeated, "No matter what he says, Ethan, I'm not going back. Ever."

And that settled it, somehow, although Ethan still gave Xander a venomous glare as he stubbed out his cigarette and closed his book. He disappeared down a short hallway, into what Xander assumed was a bedroom; Ripper waited until they both heard the door close before turning back to Xander. "Is he that much of a prat in the future?" he asked.

"I don't know him all that well," Xander replied. "But from what little I know, and that's plenty for me, he's worse. Way worse. This is tame compared to what I've seen before--after--whatever."

"You mean he's not around in that future of yours?" Ripper seemed genuinely curious about that, so as much as Xander wanted to get back to business and not divulge more information about the future, he still answered him. Anything to get Ripper feeling more friendly toward him.

"No, he isn't. He dropped by a few times over the years, but--mostly in an I'm-a-villain-fear-me kind of way."

Ripper leaned against the back of the ratty old, don't-think-it's-going-to-hold-up, couch. "Now I know you're lying."

Xander sighed, trying to figure out what he'd said that would have rattled Ripper. "Why?"

"Ethan and I," Ripper started, then looked back to the closed bedroom door. "We're lovers."

Xander just looked at him for a minute, not quite getting the point. Friends drifted apart all the time, so--"Oh." He got it now. "You mean you and him are--you know?"

Now it was Ripper's time to roll his eyes at Xander. "Well, yes, are you blind?"

"Huh, I guess you hanging out with all those girls earlier kinda threw me off."

Ripper shrugged. "They're fun for a night."

Wow, Ripper really couldn't be any different from the older Giles. Xander hadn't figured him for a one-night-stand kind of guy, and now this? Sure, he'd gotten the vibes from Ethan when he'd been in town, it was hard to miss, but he couldn't remember Giles ever vibing that way. He'd figured the sexual tension came from just one side of the equation. Man, their breakup must have been nasty. Xander shook his head to clear his thought, and then looked back at Ripper. "Can we get back to business?"

"I want to know what happens with Ethan."

Deep breath, and Xander tried a smile. "I won't tell you. Something happens, things change, and I don't know the specific details. I've said enough, anyway." Had he mentioned in the past five minutes how much he hated this? He hated Giles, and Ripper, and being back in the fucking past trying to convince the latter that the former--and now he was confusing himself.

"'Something happens,'" Ripper repeated, still sounding angry. "You're going to have to do better than that if you expect me to believe you." He glared at Xander. "Because after that story, it's looking a lot more likely that my father sent you, now. Part of his grand plan to get the prodigal son to return. Alone."

Oh yeah. He hated this. And he was pretty sure Giles, his Giles, hated knowing that Xander had been here for this conversation. "Look, I know this isn't what you wanted to hear--"

"Oh, you do?" Ripper sneered, leaning forward in a way that had Xander on edge, ready for Ripper to jump up and start throwing punches. "You show up, telling me you're from the future, and the only thing you'll tell me about it is that I turn into the last thing on Earth I'd want to be, and Ethan--" He shook his head, abruptly changing what he was about to say. "What could you possibly know about that?"

Xander closed his eye for a moment, taking a deep breath. "More than you'd think, actually," he said. Even when he looked up again, he didn't face Ripper, didn't want Giles to remember Xander's expression when he said this. But the whole world was at stake, and that was worth it, no matter how much Xander didn't want to talk about this at all, let alone to Ripper. "I was going to get married. Maybe twenty-five years from now, so I guess it's 'I will be going to get married.' And someone showed up, this guy who said he was me from the future, and he showed me--It doesn't matter what he showed me. He was a demon, anyway, trying to get back at An-- at my fiancée for something, so none of it was real."

He laughed, sharp and bitter. "Real enough to get me to call off the wedding, though. So yeah, I'm probably the only person ever who might have a clue how much you don't want to hear what I have to say." He shrugged. "But the world ending is a little more important than what you want, so get over it."

Ripper was silent for a moment, and Xander wondered if that had been the right thing to say. It was true, but maybe Xander shouldn't have been so blunt about it. No matter how much Ripper was starting to get on his nerves, pissing him off was probably not the best idea.

"I still don't believe you."

"I figured." Xander sighed and rubbed his eye, suddenly very, very tired. "Look, we can either argue about the possibility of me coming from the future, or we can get to the part where you know where the talisman is. I'm really hoping you'll decide on the second option."

"I don't have it," Ripper said.

"I didn't say you had it," Xander said wearily. "I said you know where it is."

"Well, I don't." Ripper shrugged.

"Giles--you--he wouldn't have sent me back here unless he thought I'd be able to get the talisman," Xander said firmly. "Think harder."

Ripper shook his head. "Not tonight, mate. Got plans."

"I'm going on record as not asking," Xander said, having had all the new revelations about Giles' wasted youth he could take for one day, even if the day had been spread over a couple of decades. "And what am I supposed to do? Find a gutter to sleep in while I wait for you to make up your mind?"

"I'd say you could crash here," Ripper said, "there's usually someone on the couch. Best not in your case, though. I don't think Ethan's mastered turning people into toads yet, but for you? He'd pull out all the stops." He grinned. "He doesn't like the Council any more than I do."

Xander found it very easy not to smile back. "It's after midnight," he said. "Where the hell am I supposed to go?"

"Not my problem, is it?" Ripper said, but then relented. "There's a hotel in this street. It's not far; go to your right when you leave here. It's not a good hotel, mind you, but if they have a room, they won't care how late it is."

"Thanks," Xander said. "That was almost helpful."

Ripper unceremoniously threw Xander out--pretty much literally. Xander tried to argue, but Ripper grabbed his arm and pulled him to the door with a, "Try me again tomorrow, maybe I'll believe you then," and then closed the door in his face.

"Wow," Xander muttered, shaking his head. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and walked out of the building as fast as he could without actually running. There was no way he was going to change Ripper's mind tonight; he could at least figure that out. And now he had a full day to think about what he could say to convince Ripper to help him.

Great, just great.

The night had gotten colder. Xander tightened the jacket around him, and walked to the hotel Ripper had told him about. "Not a good hotel," Xander groaned as he looked at the building on the street corner. "That's an understatement."

Xander opened the creaking door and walked in. The whole place smelled cheap. He got a room, dropped his bag inside the door, and got ready for bed. He lay down and tried not to think about the state of the sheets on the bed. They probably weren't washed very often, if the smell was any clue.

He wasn't even tired; it was still early evening by his internal clock, and what he wanted more than sleep was dinner. There was no way he'd be able to find anything open this late, though, and he didn't want to wander around London in the middle of the night if he didn't have to. Even in his own time, he didn't know his way around, and he was sure stuff had changed, anyway.

Sleep would have at least been a distraction from worrying about what was going on back in his own time. He knew Willow had told him that no matter how long he stayed in 1976, he'd come back to 2005 just a few minutes after he left, but it was hard to convince himself of that. He had to get back home with the talisman before it was too late, and every minute he spent lying here was, in his mind, a minute closer to "too late."

The first rays of sunlight were already coming through the dirt-streaked window before he finally managed to doze off.

***

He didn't sleep much, and not well either. The noises coming up from the street below kept him from drifting off to a deep sleep, and the smell of the place was really nauseating.

He finally gave up trying to sleep around eleven a.m., grabbed a bath--the bathroom was down the hall, the tub was stained and there was barely any hot water--put his things back in his bag, and left. He really, really hoped he didn't have to come back there for another night. He would, if he had to, and he probably would be tired enough by then that he wouldn't really care, but not if he could help it.

He had a lot of time to kill and a lot of things to think about. He found a small restaurant around the corner that was still serving breakfast, ordered from the menu, and settled to eat. He could think after his stomach stopped asking for food.

He barely tasted his food; if the restaurants in this neighborhood were anything like the hotel, that was probably a good thing. Instead, he kept thinking about his current situation, which, if he had to summarize it, would be, "pretty much screwed."

He wasn't holding out a lot of hope that Ripper was going to decide to be helpful. The best Xander was really hoping for was that he'd get enough information from Ripper that he'd be able to find the talisman on his own. And never, ever forgive Giles for not warning him that his trip back to the past was going to be this utterly frustrating.

If Ripper wasn't even that much help--well, there wasn't much Xander could do. He had to find that talisman. Willow had made it pretty clear that she needed it to seal that dimensional portal that was opening, and Giles had made it even clearer that if she didn't, not even an army of Slayers would be able to stop all the demons that would come pouring through. If Ripper didn't help him, Xander would have to find the talisman on his own.

"Look on the bright side," he said to himself, "I can take almost thirty years to find it." He realized, too late, that he'd been thinking out loud, and he finished his meal quickly, trying not to make eye contact with any of the people who'd been giving him strange looks.

He tried to cut down on the talking to himself for the rest of the day. He had no idea where to start looking for the talisman, so he spent the afternoon looking for places where, if Ripper didn't turn up at the bar his band had played at last night, Xander could look for him that evening. There were a couple more bars in the same neighborhood, so he had somewhere to start, anyway. After that, if necessary, he'd sit in front of Ripper's door until he came home.

Xander was hoping it didn't come to that, but he'd already figured out that he wasn't getting a lot of what he wanted, these days.

He managed to stretch buying the few things he'd left behind in 2005 and checking out the neighborhood so that it took all afternoon, then went back to the same restaurant where he'd had breakfast--but luckily, he didn't have the same waitress, so at least she wasn't looking at him and thinking, "There's the crazy guy who talks to himself again"--and poked dispiritedly at his dinner until he judged it was late enough to start checking the bars for Ripper, or anyone who might be able to tell him where Ripper was.

He didn't have much luck at the bar from the night before, and the second one yielded no more results. In the third bar, he found Ethan lounging against the wall, watching the crowd. Xander hid behind a column, thankful for the cover, and sneaked around as close to Ethan as he dared. If Ethan was there, Ripper couldn't be very far away.

Except Ripper was nowhere around, and Ethan wasn't moving. He was sipping his drink, his eyes moving restlessly.

"Oh God," Xander muttered, thankful that the music was loud enough that nobody heard him. He crossed his fingers, pleading under his breath that Ripper would turn up soon. He almost lost track of Ethan when he decided to finally get a move on, but Xander found him again in the crowd and followed him out of the bar.

He had gotten quite good at being stealthy, if he said so himself. He'd gotten the art of stalking down to a tee, and Ethan never turned around or hurried up like anyone with a stalker would. Xander kept a good twenty feet behind him, using dark corners to keep hidden.

Finally, after walking around for a good fifteen minutes, Ethan slowed down and waved at a group of people on the other side of the street. Xander had no idea where they were, and he would probably be completely unable to find his way back. At least he could see Ripper in the crowd. He stayed hidden and waited. It seemed like he did a lot of that in 1976.

He didn't stay well enough hidden, though, it seemed, because after a minute or two, he realized that Ripper was looking directly at him. Xander stayed where he was, pretending he hadn't noticed; then, after another few minutes, the rest of the group moved on down the street--all but Ripper and Ethan, anyway.

Xander pressed back against the doorway, not wanting Ethan to notice him if he hadn't already. Not that there was much chance of that, really; he wasn't paying attention to anyone but Ripper. Now that Xander knew what he was looking at, he was uncomfortable watching the two of them. He wanted to keep an eye on Ripper, obviously, but Xander also wanted to look away, struck again with the feeling that he was seeing something Giles wouldn't want him to know about.

Except, he reminded himself, Giles had sent him here, so it was no one's fault but Giles' if Xander found out some of the things he'd been keeping to himself all these years. And Ripper knew Xander was here, anyway. He probably only wanted Xander to see this to prove his point that he wasn't believing in any future for him that didn't have Ethan in it, but he did know he was being watched.

Xander couldn't hear their conversation, but after a minute, Ethan shrugged and went off in the same direction the rest of the group had gone, apparently planning to catch up with them. Ripper shook his head, then turned toward Xander, crossing the street before Xander had time to decide how he wanted to handle this.

"Now you're following me?"

"Technically," Xander said. "I was following Ethan who led me to you. Just don't tell him that. I kind of like having all my limbs attached." Xander shook his head. "You're the one who said we could talk more tonight."

Ripper had been chuckling at the mention of Ethan, but he sobered up the moment Xander mentioned talking. That boded well for the evening. "Yeah, I guess I did say that. Come on."

Xander followed him a few blocks down and they walked into another bar, one that Xander hadn't yet looked in. It was small and not very crowded, but whatever music was on was way too loud. Xander covered his ears and sat down at the bar with Ripper and ordered himself a beer. He sighed when it was thrust into his hand. Warm, of course.

"Don't look too happy." Ripper smirked.

"I just don't get how you British can like warm beer. It's like... nah, I won't say what it reminds me of."

"Don't have to drink it, then, mate," Ripper said, chuckling again. "And cold beer's a travesty. Just so you know."

"Of course it is," Xander muttered, taking a swallow of the beer in his hand.

"So, that talisman. Old, silver, and heavier than it looks, not so much of a description to go on. And a name you can't pronounce--there's probably a lot of those about."

Sighing, Xander had to turn his whole head to look at Ripper. He should have sat on the other side. Sneaking a look over Ripper's shoulder, he groaned. It was too late to move now; somebody was sitting in that seat. Leaning closer to Ripper, Xander replied: "It's all I got. Your older self decided to go cryptic on my ass before I left. You figure he could have at least given me a clue as to how to handle--you know, you."

"He should have. I'm not someone you can handle easily."

Xander resisted the urge to make a smart-ass comment about the girls in the alley last night not seeming to have much trouble. The last thing he needed was to piss Ripper off again. "Yeah, he should know."

Ripper nodded and sipped his own drink for a moment. Xander's gaze kept drifting from his beer to Ripper's profile, and back again. "I'm not saying I believe you," Ripper said, "but I might know what you're looking for."

"What happened to 'not much of a description to go on'?" Xander asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

Ripper took another drink of his beer before answering. "I said I might know. If you knew anything else about it, I could tell you for certain."

"I'll risk it," he said, pushing his beer away. "Let's go and get it."

"Not so fast," Ripper said. "Who says I'm taking you with me? If--and I do mean if I decide to give it to you, I'll get it myself."

"You can't touch it," Xander said. "That's the one other thing I know about it--it's why they sent me back here. It..." He shook his head. "I'm starting to wish I'd asked more questions. But apparently, it's only safe to handle if you don't have any magical ability."

"Well, then," Ripper said, "I'll just have to put my gloves on, won't I?"

"If you're going to give me the talisman, why not let me come with you to get it? Or save yourself the trouble and tell me where it is," he suggested, although somehow he knew he wouldn't be that lucky.

"Did you hear anything I said? I haven't made up my mind yet."

"It's no use to you," Xander said. "Or at least, it won't be for another thirty years."

"You said it was silver," Ripper pointed out. "Must be worth something."

Xander took another swallow of his beer to keep from sighing and looking as annoyed as he felt. "It might be," Xander finally said when he felt he wouldn't start yelling at Ripper. "But I'd think saving the world would be a lot more important than how much it's worth."

"Here we go again, with you assuming that I believe a word you're saying." Ripper put his beer down on the bar, tilting his head to watch Xander more closely. "What exactly is happening to the world? What is this apocalypse about?"

"A-poc-a-lypse," Xander repeated slowly. "As in, what's happening to the world is, 'it's ending.' Look, I know you dropped out of Watcher school, but I'm guessing they covered that on the first day."

The impatient glare Ripper shot him reminded Xander again of the Rupert Giles he knew. Specifically, the Rupert Giles he'd known a few years ago, when he'd still been in high school and had had less ability to keep from saying every dumb thing that crossed his mind. Giles used to give him exactly that kind of look on a regular basis back then.

It had annoyed Xander a lot less back then, though.

"I know what 'apocalypse' means, you berk," Ripper said. "How is the world supposed to be ending?"

"I'm not sure," Xander confessed. At Ripper's sniggering, he defensively added, "I was coming back to England on vacation! And I'm barely off the plane before Giles and Willow are telling me the world's in danger, here's your DeLorean, be sure it gets up to eighty-eight miles an... never mind, I'm pretty sure Back to the Future hasn't been made yet." He sighed. "I didn't have a lot of time to ask questions."

"So even if I did believe you weren't mad," Ripper said, "I'd have no reason to believe the world was actually ending."

"All I know," Xander said, "is that there are supposedly hundreds of dimensional portals about to open up--or be opened by somebody or something. And they do not lead to the kittens-and-puppies dimension. So if we can't stop them being opened, hello, world being overrun by demons in about five minutes flat."

"And this talisman is supposed to stop them."

He nodded. "There's some kind of spell that can seal the portals, keep them from ever being opened again, but it needs this talisman for it to work. But it disappeared in 1976--and Giles said he could send me to where I could find the last person to know its location."

Ripper was quiet for a minute, draining the last of his beer from the glass. "Why you?" he asked finally. "Lots of people don't have magic. Even on the Council."

"Maybe lots of people wouldn't have put up with you for this long," Xander suggested, half-serious.

"He trusts you."

It didn't sound like a question, didn't feel like it at all, but Xander still answered: "Yeah, I guess. Why? Is that important?"

"If he--I mean, if he really is me? Wouldn't trust anyone from the Council to do this job. I wouldn't trust them not to fuck it up," Ripper said, low enough that Xander had to really pay attention to the words.

"I guess you have something in common with yourself after all," Xander replied, smiling tightly.

Ripper sighed, and for a moment, he looked years older than he was, more like the Giles Xander knew. "Give me a couple of days. If it's what I think it is, it might be hard to get."

"I could help--"

"No," Ripper said vehemently. "I don't need your help."

Xander nodded, looking away from the glare Ripper was giving him. He tried his best not to look or sound triumphant, because even though he really wanted to believe Ripper was going to do this, he didn't have the talisman with him yet. "A couple of days?"

"Yeah."

Ripper didn't look happy. At all. There was something more there, but Xander didn't probe, conscious that he could destroy their tenuous arrangement if he tried to get involved in things he really shouldn't. But still, if this could get Ripper hurt... Although Xander guessed he couldn't have been too hurt, because he was around in the future to send Xander back here. Although, again, what if the reason Giles wasn't dead was because Xander was supposed to go with him? Oh God, this was just so complicated.

"I have things to do," Ripper said, standing up. "I won't have it until at least tomorrow night at the earliest, so there's no need trying to look for me until then."

Xander nodded and watched Ripper walk out of the bar. Another day of being stuck in 1976. Oh joy. At least, there was a tiny glimmer of hope at the end of that tunnel.

***

Xander wasn't all that good at just sitting around and waiting, but he did his best. Ripper hadn't given him any hint of where he was going to be looking for the talisman, and so all Xander would have been doing was wandering around completely lost, anyway.

He considered trying to find the Council and seeing if they'd be any help. That thought only lasted a minute, though, because Giles had been pretty definite about keeping the talisman out of the hands of the more old-fashioned Watchers. He wasn't sure why; even the old guys ought to be in favor of the world not ending, but the last thing Xander wanted was to make this even more likely to go wrong than it already was.

Besides, he had no idea where to find them. He'd already found the location of the Council's new London headquarters, which was currently a shoe store with what looked like apartments above it. He'd stood on the sidewalk for a while, looking through the windows and trying to visualize where everything was in 2005. He knew the old building was probably bigger, since it was the real Council headquarters and not just there so they'd have an office in London for convenience, but he had no idea where to look. It wasn't like they'd have a sign on the door.

And even if he could find them, and it wouldn't be a mistake to try, there was no guarantee they wouldn't think he was some kind of lunatic, and Xander did not want to have to see if the spell to get him home would work when he was in a straitjacket.

So he accepted that he wasn't going to be able to get anywhere in the search for the talisman, and managed to kill the entire day walking around looking at 1976. It probably would have been more interesting if he'd known much about London in 2005; it wasn't like there was a long list of places for him to check out and say, "Oh, wow, that's changed." The biggest thing he kept noticing was that everyone dressed like they'd been shopping at the back of his parents' closet.

Once night had fallen, he went back to the bar where he and Ripper had talked the previous night; it seemed like the most likely place for Ripper to come looking for him if he had the talisman.

Well, technically, his hotel room might be the most likely place, but Xander couldn't stand the thought of staying there any longer than he had to. Every time he walked inside, he was tempted to go find a supermarket and see if they had any Mr. Clean and Lysol, and a room filthy enough that Xander wanted to start cleaning it was a room that was scary in its filthiness.

Ripper didn't show up at the bar, though, and after Xander had nursed his pint of beer long enough that the bartender was giving him dirty looks, he thought that maybe he ought to stop waiting.

With one last look at his glass, Xander got up from his stool and went out into the street. He wasn't really in a hurry, but it was starting to rain again, and he had to jog if he wanted to get to Ripper's apartment in a not-too-wet state. He walked into the lobby and climbed the stairs to Ripper's floor. Xander really hoped Ripper was there and had the talisman already. He was getting tired of staring at 1976 with nothing better to do than wait around for the smartass punk version of his--of Giles.

He was going to knock on the door when he heard loud voices inside. He really didn't feel like stumbling on a lovers' quarrel, so he turned around, telling himself he'd be back in an hour. He was halfway to the stairwell when he heard the door open. He hid as best as he could behind the corner and sneaked a look into the hallway.

Ethan stalked out of the apartment, and Xander took another step back, hoping that the neighbors didn't come out and wonder why he was hanging around out here. From the looks of this place, they were probably used to strange men hanging out in the halls, he reassured himself. Besides, Ethan was doing the same thing, leaning against the wall opposite the door he'd just come out of, as though he was waiting for something.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Ethan," Ripper snarled; Xander heard him before he saw him come out of the apartment, banging the door shut behind him. "Of all the times for you to get jealous--"

"You think I'm jealous?" Ethan shook his head, laughing. "If I thought you were fucking him--You really are an idiot, Ripper. I wouldn't care about that."

"Then what do you think?" Ripper demanded, pacing the hallway in front of Ethan. Xander was grateful that he wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings; he probably would have been able to see Xander, otherwise.

"He's from the Council," Ethan said. And that settled Xander's curiosity as to who "he" was, as though he'd had any real doubt. "And don't tell me I don't know anything about it; I know more than you think I do."

"So?"

"So, do you really think they'll take you back, if they find out what you've been doing?" Ethan was turned so that Xander couldn't see his face, but he could hear the smirk in his voice. "One look at that mark on your arm, and they'll know what we've been summoning. I wonder what they do to Watchers who call up demons."

Summoning. Demons. Okay, that would have set off alarm bells on the best of days, but Xander was pretty sure that in this particular context, it was a very, very bad sign.

Shit, he thought. They were summoning demons. How long before everything went wrong, like Giles had told Buffy it did? Xander wished he'd thought to press Buffy for more details, but at the time, it had all been freaky and nothing he thought he needed to know about.

Yeah, "oh, shit" summed that up fairly well.

Ripper stopped pacing just out of Xander's field of vision. For a moment, Xander couldn't hear anything, and then Ripper said, "You don't think--" Then he came into view again, crossing the narrow hall to join Ethan. "You think I'm going back," he said, sounding tired. "You still think, after everything, I'd go back just because some bloke came and asked me to. Which he hasn't even done."

"I don't think about it at all," Ethan muttered, his back still turned to Ripper and Xander both.

Yeah, right, Xander thought, just as Ripper snorted in disbelief. "Sure you don't." Then, his voice softer than Xander would have expected, he said, "Look, Ethan, I'm not going anywhere. In another few days, this Harris is going to be long gone, and everything's going to be back to normal."

"Two days," Ethan said. "I'm not doing the summoning with him skulking about. Who knows how he'd bugger things up."

"Two days, then," Ripper agreed. "I can be rid of him by then." He rested his hand on Ethan's arm, and when Ethan spoke again, he sounded less angry.

"You'd better be," he said. "And I'm still going round to Thomas'. Are you coming?"

Ripper shook his head. "Not if you want me to get rid of Harris by day after tomorrow."

"Don't wait up, then," Ethan said.

Xander waited around the corner until he heard Ethan's footsteps disappearing downstairs and the apartment door closing behind Ripper again.

Xander leaned against the wall right by Ripper's door and sighed. This was bad. This was way bad. This was the kind of bad Xander really didn't want to get involved in. He didn't remember the details of what had happened, not that he'd ever known all of them anyway. There had been Ethan and summoning of demons and that tattoo on Giles' arm--all things that Ethan had mentioned. And a friend of theirs had died, hadn't he? So sometime soon, they'd call up a demon--again, apparently--and it would go wrong, and--

Xander had to warn Ripper.

Except he couldn't, because it would change things, and... Xander sighed. God, this was so fucked up, so damn fucked up. He straightened up his jacket and moved in front of the door.

Ripper opened the door on the first knock. "Oh, it's you."

He sounded genuinely disappointed, with just a touch of annoyance. Great, Xander thought. He hadn't even said a word, and Ripper was already annoyed with him. "Can I come in?"

"I don't have it," Ripper said, but he still moved out of the way, and Xander went inside.

"I didn't think you would." Xander had hoped, yes, but he didn't really believe that Ripper would have found the talisman in one day, unless he'd had it stored at his apartment. "When will you have it?"

"What do you care? Don't you have thirty years to get it?"

Xander scowled at him. "I really don't want to be stuck in the past for thirty years. Anyway, didn't your boy--" Oh, God, he couldn't say that word, not to Giles about Ethan fucking Rayne; it was just too weird. "Didn't Ethan give you two days to get rid of me, just now?"

Ripper looked up sharply, and for a moment Xander really regretted having a mouth that spoke words faster than his brain could follow. "You were spying on us?"

"No!" Xander said, because that definitely wasn't what he'd meant to do, even if it was what happened. Then he sighed. "Not intentionally," he admitted.

"Oh, you accidentally spied on us. Of course. I should have realized." Ripper, Xander thought again when Ripper moved closer-too close-to him, had absolutely no concept of "personal space." Or maybe he was just trying to intimidate Xander. A few years ago, it would have worked, but Xander was a lot harder to scare these days.

"I was coming here, Ethan came out of the apartment, and I decided I didn't want to see him. So I went around the corner. If I'd known you were going to follow him out, I'd have gone back downstairs instead." Xander shrugged. "I can't be the first person in the world to not like Ethan."

"Shut it," Ripper muttered, glaring at him.

Xander actually felt a little guilty. Not about the accidental spying, because that was its own punishment (Ethan Rayne. What the hell had Giles been thinking?), but because he knew what it was like to have his friends giving him the look of "I cannot believe your bad taste."

Then he reminded himself that he wasn't Ripper's friend, and wouldn't be for more than twenty years, and he stopped worrying about it.

"Look, in my time? Ethan's bad news, and from what little I know of your past--future, present, whatever, he's not that much better when he's young, so forgive me for not wanting him to be able to remember my face next time we meet... or first time--did I ever mention how fucking confusing time-traveling is?" Xander crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the doorway. "So, I ask again, when do you think you'll have the talisman? I figure the faster I'm out of your hair, the faster you can go back to wasting your life."

Ripper actually appeared to be giving that some thought. "Day after tomorrow," he said. "It'll take me a while to get it, but I should have it by then."

That was a lot more definite than Xander had been expecting him to be. "Thanks," he said, a little stunned. He'd been afraid Ripper was going to tell him he'd never had any intention of trying to get the thing for him in the first place.

Ripper ignored the thanks, going on, "You staying in that hotel I sent you to?"

"Unless it's condemned between now and then, yeah," he said. Giles had given him plenty of money, but he'd decided against looking for a better place to stay. There was no telling how long he'd have to be here, and between the still-unfamiliar currency and the changes in prices over the years, Xander wasn't a hundred percent sure how far the money would stretch.

"Right. I'll find you there," Ripper said. "Don't come here again. Ethan already doesn't like you, and he's not going to be happy that I'm not going to be around to help him get ready for--" He must have thought better about what he was going to say, because he broke off then. "I'm breaking a promise to him by helping you in the first place," he said. "Don't make things worse by interfering."

He shouldn't say anything, Xander told himself. He should thank Ripper for his help, give him his room number at the hotel, and leave. It wasn't any of his business, one, and two, he couldn't interfere with history. He couldn't risk it.

But his mouth opened anyway, and he heard himself saying, "Get ready for what?"

Ripper's eyes narrowed; he frowned at Xander but didn't answer. Xander repeated himself. "You said you and Ethan were getting ready for something. For what?" Then, in spite of himself, he had to go on. "What are you summoning?"

Ripper scoffed. "Far as I know, you're not my bloody nanny, so back off. It's none of your business."

"I'm going to say this, and then I'm going to shut the hell up, because I could be screwing with powers way higher than me," Xander said. "Things are going to go bad. Whatever you're doing? The demon summoning thing? It's going to go bad."

"I said it's not any of your business. Can't you get that into your thick head?" Ripper snarled, shoving Xander back hard against the door frame.

"No, actually, I can't. I'm trying to warn you; maybe you should listen?" Xander straightened his back, shrugging Ripper off and not letting the other man intimidate him. Or at least, not showing it. "I want to know what you're planning on summoning, because if it's the demon I think it is? Again, I repeat, it's bad, you guys aren't ready for it, and it's going to get one of you killed."

"It's not what you think, then," Ripper said sharply.

"How can you be so sure?" Xander demanded. "If you'd known you weren't ready for it, you wouldn't have done it."

"For one thing, because that's exactly the kind of rubbish I'd expect a Watcher to say," he said. "Your lot don't know anything about it."

"Yeah," Xander said. "Sorry if I can't see the fun side of getting my friends killed."

"No one's going to get killed." Ripper was still just an inch or two away from Xander. Xander really would have liked to move, just to get Ripper out of his face, but there was no way he was going to let Ripper think he was backing down. "We know how to control it."

"Yeah, right," Xander said. Right now, no matter how many times he'd promised himself he was going to shut up, he would have liked to have known the dead guy's name. That should have convinced Ripper, since Ethan was the only one of Ripper's friends Xander had met. If Giles had told Buffy, though, she hadn't thought it was important enough to pass on. "Some guy is going to let the demon possess him, and he's not going to be able to make it go away again."

Ripper smirked. "I don't expect you to understand this, since you said you don't have any magical talent yourself, but it's not that difficult to control a demon. Not this one, at least."

Xander glared at him. "I'm trying to save somebody's life here! Things go wrong, idiot. Really, really wrong. Wrong enough that you can't fix them, no matter how smart you think you are." He shrugged, wondering how badly he was screwing up the future by telling Ripper this. "And I don't know for sure, but I think you go back to the Council after this." He paused for a second, letting that sink in, and then figured he'd gone far enough that one more comment wouldn't hurt.

After all, he was already trying to change the future. He didn't know what that was going to do to his world, back in 2005, but he couldn't--he knew how badly things went wrong, what happened when the demon came back in twenty years or so. Maybe he didn't care about Ripper, but people were going to die because of this. He knew Giles would have wanted to prevent that if he could.

And maybe that one more comment was the one thing that'd get through to Ripper. " I'm pretty sure you go back without Ethan, too."

Ripper put both hands on either side of Xander's head. "I already told you this," he growled. "I am going nowhere without Ethan. Least of all, back to the Council."

He probably thought he looked menacing like that, but Xander only wanted to laugh. Except for the part where Ripper was seriously starting to piss him off. He grabbed Ripper's shoulders, and reversed their position, moving so fast Ripper didn't know what hit him before he had his back against the wall, Xander pinning him there.

"Look here, pal," Xander said. "I'm going to say this one more time. After that, you're on your own. You're going to summon the demon you got the tattoo for, it's going to go to hell, your friend will be possessed, and there'll be nothing you can do to save him. He's going to die. And then you're going to go back home to daddy, without your little boyfriend. Either you believe me and you stop this, or you don't and it happens, and you feel like shit afterwards for not listening to me in the first place."

"What the fuck do you care?" Ripper spat.

Oh, for God's sake. Xander pushed harder on Ripper's shoulders, and the next thing Xander knew, he was kissing him. Lips pressing hard, angrily, on Ripper's, until he gave way and kissed back. There was nothing nice about that kiss, nothing sweet or loving. It was harsh, unforgiving, bruising. Xander had never kissed like that before. His hands would probably leave bruises. He hoped they would.

When they finally broke apart, panting, lips swollen, Xander let go of Ripper's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Because you're Giles," he finally said. "You're Giles, and it doesn't matter that you're the twenty-one-year-old, annoying, version of Giles, you're still Giles. I will always care about you no matter which decade I'm in."

And now, finally, Ripper shoved Xander away; Xander was too taken aback by his own actions to do anything but stumble backward. "Get away from me," Ripper snarled, glaring at Xander, his hands curling into fists.

"Trust me," he said, "I want to, but I can't do that until I get what I came for."

"Good luck finding it." Ripper opened the door, obviously expecting Xander to go through it. "I don't know what you're playing at, but whatever it is, I'm done. Get out."

"The talisman--" he began. Oh, God. He'd been trying to get through to Ripper, to protect Giles from what Xander knew was going to happen, and now--he should have known that was going to go wrong. He had to convince Ripper that no matter how stupid Xander had just been, Ripper should still help him.

Ripper wasn't willing to be convinced. He shoved Xander again, this time toward the open door. "You're on your own," he said, giving Xander a nasty smile. "Have fun."

He slammed the door behind Xander, and when Xander pounded on the door until the neighbors looked out to see what was going on, Ripper's only response was to turn on loud music to drown him out.

***



Xander didn't go right back to his hotel after Ripper threw him out; he wandered around aimlessly. Giles and Willow had trusted him to do this one thing, had put the fate of the world on his shoulders, and he'd fucked up. Hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut, hadn't been able to keep from telling Ripper his future, hadn't been able to separate "Ripper" Giles from the man Xander knew.

He'd changed the future, because if Giles had remembered that, he'd have said something before now. Not that there was going to be much of a future without the talisman, anyway. And not that Xander would have known what to do if Giles had said something, after all. Xander hadn't ever sat down to analyze the way he felt about Giles, until today.

And he wasn't going to waste any more time thinking about it now, either. If Ripper wouldn't help him find the talisman, then Xander was going to have to find it himself. The last time he and Willow had both been in England, he'd let her drag him along to a lot of magic shops--the ones that, like the Magic Box had, catered to both the people who wanted pretty crystals and scented candles, and people who were looking for serious occult stuff. Some of the stores had looked pretty old, so there was a chance they'd been around in 1976.

If Ripper could find the talisman as quickly as he'd claimed, maybe someone at one of those shops would know something about it.

By the time Xander finally decided on a course of action, all the shops had closed, and he went back to the hotel. He grabbed a quick shower, trying to clear his thoughts, to figure out where he'd fucked up--although that was the easy part. Seriously, kissing? Probably not in the "how to convince somebody you're from the future and they should listen to you" handbook.

What the hell was that, anyway? Since when was he gay? Or, you know, more to the point, since when was he into Giles? Why hadn't he gotten the memo?

Xander slumped down on the bed, still wet from the shower, the towel wrapped around his middle, and, not for the first time, cursed the lack of TV. TV in 1976 was probably bad, but it would still be better than being left alone with his thoughts. His really disturbing thoughts.

It wasn't really the gay thing. He had to admit that since Willow came out, he'd been a little bit more aware of other guys. It was more of a curiosity thing, but it did happen. He'd looked and he'd liked, sometimes. And Giles--well, he wasn't bad looking. For an old man.

But this... this still scared the hell out of him.

Xander had kissed him, had kissed Ripper, and it had been--fuck, it had been good. Angry, and--Xander touched the scrape on his lower lip--kind of painful, but good. Different.

Xander wondered what it would have felt like if neither of them had been angry. If Ripper had been thirty years older, and smarter, and actually liked him. If he'd been Giles.

And because Xander apparently wasn't out of surprises for the day, he realized he really, seriously, wanted to find out.

Once he found the talisman, he could go home. Giles and Willow would be able to seal the portals before they opened, and then... he was going to corner Giles for a long talk about--a lot of things, but partly about what he'd done today. He'd probably never know whether Giles had remembered the kiss before he'd sent Xander back to 1976; if Xander had changed the future, when he got back there, it would be to the future he'd changed, after all.

But either way, Giles would remember it now. Xander refused to consider the possibility that it hadn't made enough of an impression on him that he wouldn't.

All right, then, he had a plan of action. Find the talisman, get back home, talk to Giles. Get all of this sorted out in his head, because the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he'd felt this way about Giles for a while. But step one was definitely finding the talisman.

By early the next afternoon, Xander was starting to be glad that he had almost thirty years to find it. He'd bought a map of the city and borrowed a phone book from the girl at the front desk of his hotel, and he'd set out hopefully for the magic shops that were closest to Ripper's apartment. He'd figured that, as difficult as Ripper had been in the past, saying it'd take him a day to get the talisman was probably just another attempt to be annoying.

But he'd had no luck describing the thing, and was beginning to wonder why the hell Giles and Willow hadn't given him more information about it. When someone did try to be helpful, which was pretty rare, Xander hadn't been able to answer their questions: he didn't know what shape the thing was, whether there were any decorations or symbols on it, anything. He'd given them as much as he could remember of the name, and one of the shop owners had even spent half an hour looking through reference books for him, trying to find something similar, but she hadn't had much luck. Either he'd remembered the name wrong, she'd told him, or it was a very specialized artifact that didn't get written about very much. Either way, he was out of luck.

Miserably, Xander realized that Giles had probably expected him to be able to get the thing from Ripper without any trouble. He hadn't been counting on Xander screwing things up.

Well, Xander was going to make up for that. He'd spend the rest of today checking out the magic shops--the guy at the last place had given him a couple more places to try, places he wouldn't have found in the phone book--and if he didn't have any luck, he was going to have to see if he could find the Council.

Tired, aching, and annoyed, Xander got back to the hotel way after the sun had set. Or would have set, if there had been a sun. It had been raining for most of the afternoon and evening, again. God, he hated London. London in 1976 most of all. After another quick shower, Xander put on a t-shirt and a pair of boxers and slid under the covers. He was so exhausted, it took him all of three minutes to fall asleep. Just enough time to think this isn't going to work.

The next morning was sunny and cheerful--way too cheerful for Xander's current mood. And he had a headache to boot. "Coffee, please," he said to the waitress when she asked him what he wanted. When she brought it to him, he managed to smile and ask her for eggs and bacon. He needed the energy if he was going to be walking as much as yesterday. Come to think of it, he should probably drink a couple more cups of coffee too.

There were still a couple of magic stores he had to check out, since they'd been closed by the time he'd found them yesterday. He'd try those two first, and then the Council. He'd keep that as his very last option. He seriously didn't want to talk to any of them.

He swallowed the last drop of his second cup of coffee and left the restaurant. The faster he got started....

...the faster he'd run out of options, Xander concluded after a wasted three hours. He tried telling himself to keep thinking positively; Giles wouldn't have sent him back here if he hadn't had every confidence that Xander would be able to find the talisman. But the last two shops hadn't had any more idea what he was looking for than he did, and all he had to show for his morning was tired feet.

That was it. He was completely out of options. Either Ripper already had the talisman in his possession--in which case Xander had to hope he had changed history, and Giles would suddenly find it in his sock drawer or something--or it was somewhere pretty well hidden. Or not even in London at all, he realized.

If that meant that he could get out of London, possibly to somewhere he hated less, it'd be a good thing. Right now, though, he'd just be picking somewhere at random, and he didn't think much of his chances of picking the one place on the planet where he could find what he was looking for.

Dammit, he didn't want to have to ask the Council for help. Even if he could find them, there were no guarantees that they'd believe he was who he said he was. They might be willing to believe that he was from the future, if they were familiar with the spell Willow had used, but Xander seriously doubted they'd ever believe he was a Watcher.

He was American, for one, and as far as Xander knew, the only American Watchers they'd had before Giles got control of the Council had been descendents of Watchers for almost ten generations, going back to when their ancestors were English.

Then there was the fact that Xander hadn't gone to Watcher-school. They'd ask questions he wouldn't be able to answer, and he really didn't think he had the patience to deal with them.

He knew he was putting off the inevitable, but he still went back to his hotel room to change into at least passable clothes. After taking a shower, and going through the list of magic shops for the fifth time trying to figure out if he'd missed one, Xander sighed and gave up. There was no point in waiting anymore. It was mid-afternoon, and Xander still didn't know where the Council was. If he wanted to figure that out before sundown, he had to get going.

Except he had no idea where to start. He'd probably have to walk every street in London to find them. Damn him for not asking the exact location of the old headquarters. He'd just never cared to know, and look where it had gotten him.

Then there was the other half of his brain that was actually relieved that he had no idea where it was, because it meant not dealing with stuck-up British guys.

With a groan, Xander pushed the map aside and grabbed his wallet. He needed food, he needed coffee, and he wouldn't get anywhere until he'd had both.

Actually, he wouldn't get anywhere even after he'd had both. The sun gave way to rain again while Xander was eating. He didn't sigh or groan or utter a single word. He paid his bill, zipped up his jacket, slipped his hands into the pockets, and went right back to his hotel. There was no way he was walking all of London in the rain for the second day in a row.

It was too early for him to go to bed, though, which left him with absolutely nothing to do except worry. For a change, he decided to worry about what he was going to do if it took him weeks or months--"years" was a possibility he wasn't even going to consider--to find the talisman. He couldn't stay in this hotel forever. Or maybe he should make that "wouldn't"; there was no way he was spending more than another night or two in this place. His money wasn't going to hold out forever, either, and he didn't know how he was going to get more.

The papers Giles had given him hadn't included a passport; his real one was still tucked at the bottom of his bag, but that wasn't going to convince anyone of anything, considering it had been issued in 2003. Maybe there'd be a construction firm willing to pay him under the table. He wondered if construction went on year-round, like it could in Sunnydale, or whether there'd be a winter slowdown and he'd have to wait until spring before anyone was hiring. He hadn't spent enough time in England over the last couple of years to really know what the weather was like.

He was not going to be here until spring, he decided. He'd go to the Council first. He could borrow the phone book again, start looking for names he recognized. Giles' dad, maybe; Xander didn't know his first name, but if he called and asked people if they had a son named Rupert... well, given what he'd seen of Ripper, the right Giles family would probably be the one where they slammed the phone down without answering, but at least then he'd know.

Xander didn't know anything about Giles' father, but he could only think of the names of three people who'd been Watchers before the old Council had been mostly wiped out: Giles, Wesley--and if Giles himself was this young, Wesley had to be in elementary school--and Quentin Travers. And even if he didn't know what Giles' father had been like, he did know what Travers had been like, and he'd rather risk the unknown. The unknown had not already convinced Xander that he needed a good punch in the face.

So there was tomorrow's new, probably useless, plan of action. And now, he got to lie on his uncomfortable bed, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and wishing it would get late enough that he could fall asleep.

Maybe he actually did fall asleep, or at least zone out enough that he wasn't aware of time passing; the next thing he knew, the room was completely dark, except for the thin stripe of light coming through from the hallway as his door opened.

***

Xander was instantly alert, sitting up and reaching to flick on the single lamp while he mentally ran through his options for weaponry. The lamp itself was probably his best option, he realized, but first he wanted to see what he was up against.

He was glad he had, because once he could see the intruder, he discovered that hitting him over the head would probably have required a lot of apologies when he got back to 2005. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "And why the hell couldn't you knock?"

Ripper shrugged, not looking directly at Xander. "Thought you were out," he said. "The lights were out and it's not even nine o'clock."

"And so you thought you'd come in and--what?" Xander got to his feet, arms folded as he glared at Ripper. "It's not enough that you doomed the whole world, now you wanted to rob me, is that it?"

"Fuck off," Ripper growled. "I was leaving this for you." He tossed something on the bed; it landed solidly on the mattress. Very solidly, like it was incredibly heavy despite being fairly small.

Just like Giles had told him the talisman would be.

The thing was wrapped in an old t-shirt; Ripper must have listened to him about not touching it. Xander unwrapped it to find a silvery disk, about four inches in diameter and half an inch thick, with symbols Xander didn't recognize etched into it. He'd expected it to be heavy--it was solid metal, after all--but true to what he'd been told, it felt a lot heavier than it should have. There was definitely something in there besides silver.

"You got it," he said. "Thanks. I mean--seriously, thank you. You've just helped save the world."

"I wasn't doing you a favor," Ripper said. "Figured I might want to live longer than thirty more years, that's all."

Now that Xander had the talisman, he felt almost dizzy with relief, and no matter how grateful he was to Ripper, he couldn't resist giving the younger man--and really, how weird was that, still?--a hard time. "Oh, so now you believe me?"

"Didn't have much choice." Ripper finally looked up at him, and Xander winced. There was a cut on his forehead, a bruise on his jaw that suggested he'd been in a fight recently. That didn't really surprise Xander, but Ripper looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in a while, and he'd lost most of his smirking arrogance.

"You look like shit," Xander blurted out, and then, recalling what they'd argued about the last time he'd seen Ripper, realized what must have happened. "Oh. God. You went ahead with the summoning, didn't you?"

Ripper gave a short nod, and leaned against the wall. Xander turned on the lamp. "Come on, sit down," he said, standing up and going to shut the door, which Ripper had left ajar. "Come on," he repeated, tugging Ripper to the bed.

Ripper sat down with a thump and grabbed his head in his hands. Xander could see that he was shaking badly. Why couldn't Ripper have listened to Xander in the first place? As much as Xander thought Ripper was an annoying punk, he hated to see him like this. He hated to have to be here for this.

Xander touched the necklace he was wearing through his shirt and looked at the talisman. It would be so easy. Grab one, break the other, and poof, he'd be gone, and he wouldn't have to deal with Ripper.

Xander knew he couldn't, though. This was Giles, and... yeah, just Giles. That explained everything. He put a hand on Ripper's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I'm sorry."

"It happened exactly like you said it would," Ripper finally said, lifting his head to look Xander in the eye. "We summoned Eyghon last night--went ahead and did the spell the day before we'd planned; we were ready, after all, weren't we?--and Randall --he volunteered, wanted to feel Eyghon's power... He wasn't ready. None of us were, no matter what bloody Ethan kept saying. No matter what I kept saying. You were right."

"I wish I hadn't been," Xander said.

Ripper laughed, harsh and completely humorless. "Call yourself a Watcher? You should be glad I've learnt my lesson."

There was no way Xander could tell him the truth: that as obnoxious as he was, Ripper was still Giles, or would be in a few years, and Xander hated seeing him like this. Ripper would laugh in his face. "Someone died," he pointed out. "If I'd wanted that, would I have warned you in the first place?"

Ripper didn't say anything for a long time, though Xander could still feel him trembling. "We had to kill him," he said, finally. "Randall. I had to--the others couldn't--"

"I know," Xander said. He hadn't known that before now, no, but he knew Giles. He knew Giles would have done it, no matter how much he hated to, if that was the only way. "You had to stop it."

"It wasn't even him," Ripper said, looking down again. "He was already dead." Xander wondered how many times he'd said that to himself since it happened. Ripper was probably right, but Xander doubted he believed it.

"Yeah. I know." He felt completely helpless; no matter who Ripper would become, right now, he couldn't even stand Xander, but Xander couldn't just sit here and do nothing. "What about everyone else?" he asked, finally. "Are they okay?"

"I doubt it." Ripper shrugged. "They're not hurt." He touched the cut on his head gingerly. "No more than I am, at least."

Xander breathed out slowly and crouched down in front of Ripper. "Let me look, just to make sure it's not serious."

"You're not a doctor. How would you know?" Ripper sneered without conviction. He let Xander touch him though, tilting his head to the side so that Xander could see the cut more easily.

"Doesn't look too deep. Let me clean it up?"

"Happened yesterday," Ripper said. "It ought to be closed by now. Besides, it's nothing."

"Well, it's not. That might be due to the fact that you keep touching it." Xander stood up and went into the bathroom. He was hoping to find at least one clean towel, but this was the cheapest hotel in cheap land and there was nothing, only the old towels Xander had been using for two days. He grabbed a t-shirt from his bag, at least those were clean, and he soaked it in warm water before coming back into the room. "I wish I had some band-aids. That would help."

He crouched back down and washed Ripper's face as gently as he could manage. He saw Ripper try to repress a wince, and shook his head. "You know, you've seen me at my worst, there's no way I'm going to think less of you if I see you in pain. Just saying."

"That how you learned to do this? I taught you?"

"Some, yeah. You cleaned up lots of my wounds. Like that one time when that something-something demon scratched my arm. It was a mess." He tried to smile, but didn't quite manage.

He was done and was going to put the shirt away when Ripper touched his cheek, right under the patch, and made him look up.

"Did I--did I clean that one up?"

Heart beating fast, throat tight, Xander shook his head. "No," he murmured. "Not that one. You--you weren't around that time, and they--they sent me right to the hospital."

"How did it happen?"

Xander thought what Ripper really wanted to ask was, "Why didn't I save you?" but that might just have been wishful thinking. "I'm not telling you." He should; maybe if Giles had known, it wouldn't have happened, but-- "As much as I wish I still had both my eyes, and trust me when I say that I do, I don't think you could have stopped it from happening without being killed. And if I had to choose, I'd prefer having just the one eye to being Giles-less."

He threw the shirt in the garbage can and sat down on the bed. "I'm used to it now, and, you know, it gives me an edge. People listen to the one-eyed guy a lot more than they'd usually listen to a twenty-four-year-old American who's never actually been to Watcher school."

"You didn't--?"

Xander shook his head. "Told you the Council's different. You're going to make a lot of changes."

"Tell me."

"I wish--I really wish I could, but I shouldn't tell you any more than this. You already know the important stuff," Xander said, putting a hand on Ripper's knee. "You're going to change the way things are done. You're going to become the best Watcher they've ever had, no matter what anyone else might tell you. Buffy? She's the longest-lived Slayer in Council history, and she owes it to you. We all owe our lives to you. I stopped counting the number of times you saved mine."

Ripper turned his head to watch Xander. The look in his eyes, the slump of his shoulders--it was all Giles. It made Xander so homesick he could barely breathe.

"I'm going back," Ripper said.

"I know."

"Without Ethan." Ripper shook his head. "Thought I was going to change the future after all," he added. "He had other ideas."

"I'm sorry." He wasn't--not really, except maybe for the fact where Ripper looked really heartbroken about it, and it made Xander's heart ache. Still, no Ethan was a good thing in his book.

"No, you're not."

"Well, okay, maybe not," Xander said. "But that doesn't mean I like knowing you're hurting about it."

"Hey, I'm not--" Ripper tried to argue, but Xander interrupted him.

"Whatever you say. I know that look; I've seen it in the mirror a lot."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Xander said to himself, sighing. "It's actually more your style, you know, the lecture thing, but--"

Ripper rolled his eyes. "Say what you have to say, put me out of my misery and all."

"It's going to be a long road from here to there, you know, but we're going to need you, a lot, in about..." He stopped to think. "Twenty-one years or so." He smiled and cupped Ripper's cheek, making him lift up until they were eye to eye. "No matter what they tell you when you go back. I know they don't believe in you, and yeah, it's not all roses and puppies between you all, but that's exactly what makes you different. And you? Are going to succeed where they failed. And they did fail, big time."

Ripper shook his head and sniggered, one last attempt at the badass attitude. "You're not too bad as far as lectures go..."

"Yeah, something else you taught me."

"I'm going to be boring, aren't I?"

"Well..." Xander smiled. "Don't worry, though, you get better after a while."

"That's something, I suppose." He wasn't shaking any more, though Xander was sure that was only because he was keeping Ripper distracted. "Lucky for me."

Xander grinned. "You kind of liked being boring, I think. At least, you worked hard at it."

"Good Lord, don't say that," Ripper muttered. "No, I meant, lucky for me--in the future, I mean--that you change your mind." He hadn't pulled away, and Xander left his hand against Ripper's cheek. If Ripper was going home, he'd probably get yelled at enough then; Xander didn't need to remind him of how stupid he'd been. Right now, he needed someone to be his friend, and there was just enough of Giles, Xander's Giles, in him for Xander to be able to do that.

And then he heard what Ripper had actually said, and he shook his head. "Oh, no. It's not--no. Not like that." He couldn't, there was no way he could face Giles if he hadn't set Ripper clear on that one.

"Bloody hell," Ripper swore under his breath. "Look, you kiss a bloke, you can't blame him for jumping to conclusions about which side you bat for." He tensed up again, looking a little more like the swaggering jerk Xander had first seen.

This wouldn't be an embarrassing conversation at all, or at least not all that embarrassing, if he didn't know Giles had a good memory. If this was anyone else in 1976, there'd be no problem. As it was--

As it was, he couldn't bring himself to lie to Ripper, not right now, and he'd just have to hope that Ripper was so focused on his own problems that he wasn't really paying attention. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" Xander said. "And... I just meant, he and--you and I, it's not like that. I'm your friend. That's all."

"So now you're telling me I'll be thick as well as boring? You're not very good at this 'comforting' bit, are you?"

Xander realized that his hand was still cupping Ripper's cheek and wondered if it was about time that one of them pulled away.

"No, I'm not," he finally said. "Buffy's usually the one to do this." He was going to take his hand away any time now. Except that apparently, what he really wanted to do was move his thumb across Ripper's cheek. "Between you and me, I