madimpossibledreamer

A/N: Ahn or Anya will be explained in-story soon.

Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The feeling of restlessness and uselessness returns to Xander.
Word Count: 1354
Rating: K
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

CHARACTER FIRST APPEARING IN CHAPTER 4
Dawn Summers-The sister of Buffy Summers, the oldest Slayer. She was basically raised by the makeshift Scooby family.

And thus, Wesley began his calling at odd hours. At first, he didn't really have any information to give, and was just calling once every two days just to reaffirm that fact.

"Why do you keep doing this while I'm trying to sleep?" he asked once, petulant. After all, his sleep schedule was still a little out of whack, even with the spell Giles cast. The dreams had gotten even more bizarre, but kept fleeing out of his grasp now, which just annoyed him more. He'd have mentioned that, or that he felt his mind was desperately trying to tell him something and was failing due to the block, but didn't want to give them any more reason for them to worry. The Head Watcher was, oddly, biding his time on following up on Spike's suspicions and his own collapse, but maybe they'd just thought it was a nervous breakdown or something? But, no, they were concerned about something else, too. And they didn't want to tell him. How typical. Though, maybe they'd thought it was something about Ahn, and...

Suddenly, all the anger drained, and he just felt tired. Tired enough that he almost didn't hear Wesley's reply. "Do you want to draw attention, or not? I'm doing my best to not be obvious about it, but if you'd rather..."

Apparently, he also wasn't the only person feeling snippy. "N-nah, that's okay." It also turned out that Wesley hadn't really anything else to say, which almost got Xander laughing hysterically. He really needed some sleep soon. Or answers. That could be his problem too. He quickly said goodbye before he could start, then dug out one of his old funnies collections from under his bed.

Generally wandering around and making a nuisance of himself was a hobby he hadn't indulged for a while, so there was no real reason not to do it now. He liked to know whatever house he was in, and having a good idea where his family forged in fire were had always made him feel a little better, even as he wondered about mother hen instincts. Still, sitting in his room waiting for Wesley's calls or trying to figure out how to feel useful here when he wasn't doing an actual job wasn't the way to go either. The next thing you knew, he'd start losing his self-esteem again, and then he'd start brooding and dressing in black and then he'd be Mr. Broody Batvamp, helping the helpless, and that was of the bad. He'd seen the way that went, and it was of the bad. It was better to stay off that path entirely.

He found Dawn raiding the fridge. Older brother instincts that he'd only had a chance to practice with families not his own sprang to life. He shrugged them aside for the moment. "I'll just mention that you probably shouldn't eat too many of those. Buffy's practicing cooking again, or so I hear."

"Why do you think I'm trying to make sure I don't have much room?" Dawn grimaced, then grinned unrepentantly. "I'll share some of my spoils if you don't tell on me."

He made a show of thinking about it, forcing her to pause mid-cake slice. She glared at him, but he slowed down even more, perversely. "...Okay. Your skill in bribery has overcome my sense of morals."

"I'm committing those words to my memory," Dawn commented placidly. "Milk?"

"Sure, if it's not gone bad yet. It's hard to predict Slayers." Sometimes they ate everything. Sometimes, they wanted to eat other things, and so refused to touch what was in there. Not that he'd had much experience with Slayers, plural, persay, but living in the Summers House and Bastion Against The Evil with Slayer Potentials for a year had certainly taught him what they were like en masse.

"You're talking to the sister of one, here. I've given up trying to understand Buffy." Dawn poured him a cup. It wasn't as good a combination as, say, milk and cookies, but it wasn't bad either.

They ate unworried by anyone who might happen to wander around. "Your skill in blackmail, too. Seriously. At least you're not shoplifting anymore, right?"

The silence drew a sterner look. "You're not, right?"

"No, no, I'm not! Geez!" She sighed. "I'm even allowed in all the shops. It's kind of boring."

He half wanted to glare, but instead just mustered a sigh. "You know, I know you know the comic tropes as well as I do. Saying that automatically means that something's going to happen soon, and it's probably going to be the bad kind of exciting. Why would you jinx us like that?"

"Oh, fine, blame it all on Dawn." She deflated and ate more of the cake before she perked right up again. "But at least it'll be interesting. I mean, don't try to trick me. I know you're bored and listless because they haven't given you anything to do. You could hang out with me and write it somewhere as babysitting or something. And I'll even complain loudly about it so no one suspects. It'll be the best disguise."

Poor Dawnie. So much was going on that everyone was leaving her alone. He knew the feeling. Still, he could only really manage an amused grin and a shake of the head in response.

Her better mood didn't disappear. "You can at least think about it, right? Please?"

"I'm thinking about it. I can't tell you anything else." She squealed and threw herself around his neck. He laughed, but hugged her back, then stated seriously, "You have icing everywhere. If we want to get rid of the evidence, we might want to do it quick."

"I like the sound of co-conspirators." She returned to her seat and began scarfing again. It takes her a couple tries to get her next thought out and understandable, since she keeps trying to talk with her mouth full. "Well, you really can't blame me if anything happens."

"How's that?" He doesn't really care about being rude, but what's the point of speech if you don't even get your point across? That's that language was invented for, anyway, right?

"Well, the stone mask thing, right?" A sudden chill runs down his spine. How can he express this nameless dread in his heart? It's like...he knows what it's capable of, but he's never seen it before, other than in his dreams. "I heard about you freaking out about that. This feeling of yours, it really happened?"

Someone else might believe him? Now if only they'd actually talk to the ones who weren't listening. "...Yeah. And I can't explain it, but. Argh."

"I can steal it and then we can put it somewhere safe," she mentions offhandedly, treating it almost like a joke, like a game, and it definitely isn't either of those.

"No!" He makes an effort to calm down, since he's startled her, maybe even scared her, and that's not exactly the point here. "No, don't...don't touch it. Don't go near it." That's not helping. He sounds a bit insane. Maybe that's the reason that no one's been listening to him. It all sounds insane, but then, they've been dealing with the insane for just how long now? "I...I mean, touch probably isn't going to activate it, or wake it up, or whatever. But still, it's better to be safe because we have no idea, right?"

She looks a lot less freaked out than she had been, but there's still a weird look in her eyes that he can't quite decipher. "Yeah, that's true. I mean, nothing good ever came of 'hey, I wonder what this does. I should poke it.'" She gets up, cleaning off her face and dumping the plates in the sink. "I hope you figure that out soon."

She leaves before he can respond, and he's left to stare at the dishes, knowing it'd probably be best if he cleaned them, too, so at least no one gets blamed for them taking food. "I hope so, too," he whispers to the soapy dishes, which probably don't care.