There is the sensation of falling forever, and then suddenly he is standing upright in a white room and blinding light spills around him. Unable to adapt to this sudden change, when he was in bed asleep only seconds before, Xander falls on his ass unceremoniously before the glowing figures before him.

“Oh, no need to bow,” a male voice says from the glowing figure on the right.

“Although it is a nice gesture young man, so good to see that you have been properly trained by your own gods,” a female voice adds from the one on the left.

“Uh?” replies Xander, gingerly rising to his feet, thinking that this is indeed the strangest dream he has had in quite awhile. He then looks around for a mud-daubed First Slayer in a moment of blind panic, and loses his balance and falls back down.

“Oh, this will never do,” the female voice adds petulantly, “If it can’t even stand up in our presence, how will it ever be able to get anything done?”

“Give it time to adjust. Perhaps our natural radiance is blinding it?” the male adds questioningly. The glare from the two figures dims down, such that while they continue to glow, their features can now be seen. The one with the male voice looks, well, male, and the female one is unsurprisingly female. Both are dressed as if for a toga party, which Xander belatedly remembers is what the Romans used to wear, and not something from Animal House, and are blandly beautiful in an over-processed Hollywood sort of way, like underwear models or actors on WB teen dramas.

He returns to his feet, glad that he no longer has to shield his eyes. Xander extends his hand, and then thinks twice of it and shoves it in his pocket when the female looks at it like something she has never seen before, “Um, so, hi. Am I dreaming? ‘Cause I usually don’t know when I am, and in any case, I’ve got a firm policy against doing anything to upset gods or demons, even in my dreams,” Xander babbles, “Oh, and I won’t be making any wishes! Not even for chocolate.”

Both of the glowing figures start in at once, interrupting each other, “No young man…,” “Listen here mortal, if we wanted,…” both stop to glare at each other, as if stunned that the other would interrupt. Finally the female relents, muttering, ‘oh no, you go first, you have the testicles…’

The male shoots her an exasperated look before continuing, “This is not a dream, Xander LaVelle Harris,”

“Great, we’re on a middle-name basis. It’s a nightmare,…” Xander mutters.

“Ahem,” The male continues while the female shoots an encouraging look to Xander, motioning that it is okay for him to interrupt the other. “as I was saying, this is not a dream, nor is it a visitation. We have brought you to this place,” he gestures around at the featureless white room, rectangular and empty, “to safeguard the universe from an unimaginable threat.”

“It can’t be unimaginable if it’s actually happening,” the female retorts, arms crossed, “I mean someone had to imagine it, right?”

“Um, not to interrupt,” Xander tremulously interjects as the two turn as if to begin bickering, “but you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m Xander.” At their blank looks, “Xaaannnder. Friend of the Slayer. He who gets decaf for the Witch. Carrier of books for the Watcher. Fixer of windows and all-around cool guy, but not so much the saver of universes from unimaginable, or imaginable,” he adds, looking at the female, “threats.”

“And you guys know my name, in all it’s embarrassingness, but I’m still thinking of you two as Thing One and Thing Two. Help me out here…”

The male opens his mouth, but the female steps in front of him and says first, somewhat in a rush, “I am called Harmonious,” she extends her dainty hand to Xander, waving it around somewhat under his nose while he recoils slightly from the sudden motion, “You may kiss my hand if you wish.”

“Um thanks,” Xander says, absently shaking her hand at face-height, resulting in her pulling it back as if she has just found a festering abcess on it and is debating whether to cut it off. The male side-steps around her and the glow intensifies ever so slightly, causing Xander to wince as he says in a deeper-than-normal voice, “And you may know me as Resplendence.” His voice echoes dramatically on the last word, and the female rolls her eyes, muttering, ‘or perhaps ‘drama queen?’’

“Okaaaay,” Xander stutters out, Resplendence having apparently also grown a few inches taller than him while introducing himself and backing away to get a safer perspective, “and now for the 64,000 dollar part, why am I here and not in my bed, while say, Buffy should be here, and also not in my bed?”

“The Slayer is in your bed?” the male exclaims, “That could simplify matters…”

“Uh, no, not, never.” Xander quickly backpedals, “I meant she’s also not in my bed, but unlike me, she’s not here, and since she’s the universe-saving sort, and I am the lounging-in-bed-recovering-from-grievous-injury sort…”

The female thankfully cuts off the babble, “You are here because you are the one we need to save the universe. Not the Slayer.”

“I was going to tell him, but he keeps interrupting,” the male says somewhat peevishly.

“Sorry, I’ll be good.” Xander adds, but both of them are now ignoring him again.

“You can’t even keep a mortal on-track. You’re wasting time. I’ve always said you need to show more backbone, that if you took a firmer hand of your minions, they wouldn’t walk all over you…”

“You’re one to talk, you don’t even know what your minions are up to half of the time. You’ve misplaced entire worlds, you scatterbrained…”

“Now listen here, you can’t talk to me like…”

“I’ll talk to you however I damn…”

“HEY!!!” both gods turn to stare at a red-faced Xander. “If you two are going to kill each other, could you please send me home, to my bed, which does not have Buffy in it, before you do?” Stopping for a second, “Ooh, actually, on the Buffy thing…”

“Quiet mortal,” the male says quietly, and despite a lack of glowing or booming echoey voice, he sounds more threatening than before. Xander pales and says, “Quiet now.”

“Here’s the deal,” the female adds, her tone also low and businesslike. “You’ve heard of the Higher Powers, sometimes called The Powers That Be?” At Xander’s nod of non-recognition. “Great, he hasn’t even heard of them…”

The male cuts in. “Demons,” he points down. “Mortals,” he points across to Xander. “Higher Powers,” he points up. “And you are?” Xander peeps. The male and female look at each other and the female finally responds, “Complicated, but we’re working with the Higher Powers to ensure the survival of all of our realities. Yours, mine, theirs. All are in danger.”

“So, again, why me?” Xander asks, having decided that brevity is the soul of not-having-one’s-head-ripped-off-by-impatient-gods.

“Because we needed someone who was there, and someone who is there,” the male starts, before the female interrupts, “Too much, he’s only got a mortal brain in that thing,” she says pointing at his head. “We need someone who is present in all of the realities being threatened, and was also present at the fall of Glorificus.”

“Glory? But she’s dead! Very, very dead. Dead and then dead again! And stopped, we stopped her, and closed her portal, and please tell me she’s still dead!” Xander babbles before the male puts his hand up.

“Yes, you and your friends stopped her, and closed the portal that threatened all of our realities, but she is not dead. She was not fully destroyed when the portal opened, and her essence began to move through the portal, seeking its way home, when the portal was closed.”

The female continues, “Her essence was fragmented, trapped in dozens of realities, mere shadows of her true power, and they could not recombine and continue their journey.”

“Oh god, Giles.” Xander says, “It was for nothing…”

“Not for nothing,” the female continues. “She was thwarted from regaining her power and returning to her home. She would have been effectively destroyed, had her minions not searched time and space for her fragments, to attempt to recombine their goddess.”

“In your world,” the male goes on, “Glory is dead, her mortal host breathes not, and the greatest portion of her power is unavailable, so her servants searched the worlds for her remnants. While they lacked the power to call her to one world and recombine her essence into their goddess again, they were able to help her manifest in many worlds, and in each of those worlds they now intend to have her tear open the Hellmouth of that world, bathing her in such power that each of this fragments will gain the strength of their former self, and recombine upon your world, from the ashes of your own Hellmouth.”

“It is only the destruction of your worlds Hellmouth,” the female adds, “that prevents them from doing the same in your world. As for why you are needed, and not the Slayer, or any other of your more competent friends,” she continues despite Xander looking like he wants to interrupt at this point, “we need someone who is present in all affected realities, and in many of those tainted by these remnants of Glorificus, there is no Slayer named Buffy, or she is long-dead. Similarly, your other friends may not be available, for various reasons. You are the only constant, and we are allowed only one champion in this matter.”

“We do expect you to rally whatever friends you have when you return home, obviously you don’t have to face Glorificus alone, but we could only bring one individual to this place. Perhaps the one thing you all have in common is that you have powerful friends…” the male finishes as Xander is suddenly aware of movement behind him.

Turning slowly as a rising series of questions begins, Xander turns to see over two dozen people staring back, and most of them look exactly like him… Turning back, Harmonious and Resplendence have vanished, and behind him is now only a pile of discarded fancy dress clothes, women’s shoes and feminine hygiene products. “Great,” He mutters, “My consolation prize doesn’t even fit...”

********************************************

“Okay, settle down people!” Xander shouts over the din of questions and exclamations from the assorted versions of himself now filling the room. At least he stands out, being the only one with an eyepatch, although one has a cane and black sunglasses that imply that he got off easy only losing one eye…

A few are actively fighting in the corner, and flashes of blue light are going off where they try to grapple or bite at each other. One is in torn clothing and growling savagely, another growing lower, almost possessively and dressed in what looks like something from a bondage-fetish-wear catalog, and both circling a third in leather and game-face, an obvious vampire. Neither of the growling Xanders seems to be able to touch the other, and a few others are standing around, with two of them placing bets, while the vampire seems to be bemused by the two savage Xanders fighting over him.

“Guys! Chill!” Xander calls out, and finally the vampire one turns to look at him, while the feral one makes one last leap at his unprotected back, only to fly back in a flash of blue light. It skulks away, while the crouching leatherclad Xander moves up to the vampire and sniffs his leg.

“Well,” says the vampire sourly, looking down at the Xander sniffing his leg warily, “we can’t seem to hurt each other.” To punctuate his point, he lashes out at a nearby Xander and his fist just stops in front of the startled man’s face in a similar flash of blue light. The Xander-not-hit squawks and falls on his ass, only to be helped up by another who has been standing next to him. ‘Great, must be a genetic trait.’ Xander thinks…

Another Xander, dressed in the sort of clothing that Tara would have considered a little too earth-childy, and wearing tiny rose-tinted Lennon glasses that look incredibly gay, steps forward and says, “Yes, an anti-violence spell appears to protect all of us. We should stop wasting time trying to brawl and find out why we are here. Does anyone have any ideas?”

Xander tries to speak up, but a half-dozen of him, including one that he now sees is very much a girl, and is brandishing a stake around, begin talking at once.

He can see in the back, another Xander in jeans and army jacket is crouching in front of the growling Xander in the corner, waving some sort of shiny thing and speaking softly, while the vampire Xander seems to be petting the leatherclad Xander who is now rubbing his head against the vampires leg.

“Guys! Again, with the shutting up!” He punctuates his point by throwing a bottle of shampoo at one of them, a cyborg commando-looking Xander in fatigues, eliciting another blue flash of light.

The cyborg suddenly emits a squealing noise, as if someone is testing a microphone and his voice booms through the tiny room, “ATTENTION!”

Xander looks somewhat startled, but quickly tries to get a word in edgewise before they start talking, or fighting, again. “There’s a hell-goddess named Glory about to destroy all of our worlds and we have to return to our worlds and kick her ass.” At their blank looks, “Er, asses. Plural.”

“She has more than one ass?” a random Xander asks, to the sound of several snickers.

“Uh, no. There’s one of her in each of our worlds, and when they rip the Hellmouth open with their bare hands, they’ll be able to recombine and destroy all of their, uh, *our,* worlds.”

“So what’s she look like?” one of them asks, hand raised and looking bored.

“Um, she’s really kinda hot, in a skanky Pamela Anderson Lee-school-of-makeup sort of way. A blonde, about 5’ 6” tall with nice breasts and long legs. She always dresses really nice, in tight but expensive red dresses, and wears heels and stuff,” he trails off lamely.

A Xander in soft brushed brown leather moves forward and seizes up one of the shoes behind Xander, sniffing deeply from it, his eyes closed. “Okay, do that somewhere else, ‘cause we’ve got more important stuff to do here than learn each others kinks…”

The leather-clad Xander looks up, eyes golden and face ridged, another vampire and retorts, “Now I can track her, dumbass.” He starts grabbing individual bottles and dresses, sniffing at each of them, and a few other Xanders move forward and begin doing the same. Even the earth-child Xander moves forward and takes a slip, shoving it into a cargo pocket, saying something about using it to track her magically. Somehow Xander doesn’t believe him.

The jeans-clad Xander now steps forward, taking a few items to sniff, and bringing some back to the corner for the savage Xander in the corner to sniff as well. The first vampire, still in game-face, brings his ‘pet’ Xander forward to do the same.

“Okay,” Xander says, using this moment of relative calm to get his bearings, “So, all of us are Xander.” A few hands go up and the girl with the stake says, “Sandra,” while the earth-tones guy says, “My name’s Jim.”

“Whatever,” Xander says, shaking his head, “the point is, we’re all,” he looks over the motley crew assembled, “more or less the same person. None of us,” he looks to the vampires, “as far as I know, want our world to be destroyed, merged into one mega-hell-dimension,” the first vampire looks up, eyes glistening at the prospect, “that Glorificus, who hates vampires, will control,” said vampire slumps and looks disappointed.

“Do we all have some means of taking this battle to this Glorificus?” the cyborg interjects. “I have the resources of a military Initiative at my disposal, as well as my own enhancements, and clearly some here have vampiric,” he turns and looks at Sandra, “or Slayer strength. But some of us,” and now he looks at the two crouching ferals in particular, “might not be strong enough, or, frankly, smart enough, to deal with a threat to the Hellmouth.”

“I can handle this one,” says the jeans-clad Xander, who has been crouching next to the feral in the corner. His silver necklace, in the shape of a wolf’s head, is now visible on the disheveled Xander in the corner, who is no longer growling and appears to be looking around as if seeing everything for the first time. Seeing puzzled looks, that Xander continues, “Willow made this talisman for me, and one for Oz, so we could control our wolves. But we also learned all sorts of chants and meditation stuff, so we really don’t need the talismans anymore. It seems to be good at helping this guy control his, uh, hyena, I guess. He understands us, and that his world, his pack, are in danger.” A low growl of assent punctuates this statement as the crouching Xander bares his teeth.

Heads turn to the vampire holding the leash of the second feral Xander, who looks exasperated, “Why do I have to deal with this. Go away. Bother some other nice vampire. Shoo!” He kicks at the Xander at his heels, but only gets a flash of blue light for his trouble. The brown-jacketed vampire steps forward, takes the leash and pulls the Xander away. The primal Xander looks confused, but goes with him and is slowly pulled upright, looking around, as if expecting something bad to happen if he stands. The vampire coaxes him to look up and asks slowly, “Who are you?” “Dog.” Xander replies. Several of the other Xanders look disturbed at this. “Who is Dog’s master?” Xander replies without hesitation, “Angelus,” returning to a crouch and looking down as it speaks.

“Oh that’s just wrong!” one Xander says loudly and as the babble starts up, the cyborg Xander again uses his loudspeaker to cut through the din. This time only the introductory squeal is needed, he doesn’t actually have to say anything. The vampire hands some clothing to the leashed Xander at his feet and tells him, “Bad woman, wants to kill Angelus!” that Xander growls at this and he continues, “Must warn Angelus, must kill bad woman! Sniff her out, lead Master to her. Very, very bad woman.”

“Do we have any information on this Glory, how tough she is, where we might find her?” the cyborg asks, satisfied that the situation with the hyena-possessed Xanders is being handled.

“She lived in a really nice penthouse in the southside, at least in my world. She was strong, as in Olaf strong, or Adam strong, for those of you who have any idea who I’m talking about.” A few heads nod, a few just stare blankly, “She can push down buildings, she is bulletproof, she can run faster than a car when she wants to, she can kick the crap out of a Slayer or a vampire without effort, and she survived my hitting her with a wrecking ball, Buffy hitting her with a magic troll hammer and Willow dropping her from about a mile up.” At this description, a Xander in the back raises his hand and says, “Check please?”

“But the Glory’s in each of your worlds shouldn’t be that tough. You’ve only got fragments of her to deal with, the bits that got away from us.” The first vampire Xander, now sans ‘pet,’ says, “Do a better job next time, okay.”

“Look, Buffy died killing that bitch! Don’t give me any crap about it dead-guy!”

“Oh, whatever. She was a Slayer, they’ll make another one. Who cares?”

At that both Sandra and another stake-wielding Xander who has been quiet up until this point step up and he speaks before Sandra, “I do. If it wasn’t for this protection spell, you’d already be dust vampire, so shut it.” The vampire looks at him scornfully, then seems to recognize him. “You’re both Slayers? Huh, only girls can be Slayers on my world.” As a few look on startled, another Xander interrupts impatiently, “Well, obviously, boys can be Slayers on his world. How exciting. Can we get on to the killing Glory bit? You had me at hello.”

“And you won’t need any directions or advisement on tactics?” the cyborg asks condescendingly, “perhaps some sort of plan?”

The Xander in question looks down to unbutton his collar slightly to reveal a glowing golden pendant, and when he looks up his face is demonic. “No. I’m just going to kill her and get home in time to tape Farscape.”

A few Xanders look startled, and one exclaims, “He’s a vengeance demon, like Anya!” while another adds, “Farscape was cancelled!” He looks up, face already having faded back to human and with an unreadable expression, “Oh, you know Anyanka?” and then grins at the Xander who made the comment about Farscape, “And you must live in a hell-dimension.”

A pair of Xanders nearby, one of whom Xander recognize as the one that fell earlier when the vampire was testing the anti-violence wards, speak in unison, “Yeah, she’s our girlfriend.” The seemingly blind Xander, who has effortlessly threaded his way through the crowd, conspicuously without bothering to use his cane, smiles wistfully, “Huh, two of you. That wore off for me. My Anya was very disappointed.”

“Okay, getting off-track, are we all good to go?” as the assorted Xanders continue chattering amongst themselves, Xander looks back to see that the room is beginning to fade and the floor seems to drop away. He flails about, screaming as he falls and wakes up in bed, holding a red womans pump, which he’d apparently been gesturing with.

Noticing that he is alone in his bedroom, he stares at the pump suspiciously. He looks around one more time and raises it to his nose, sniffing experimentally…