Xander Harris walked down the road from Sunnydale General Hospital, squinting as the late April sun hit his face. The Southern California heat was already cranking up to eleven, but he barely felt it. Perks of being a devil, I guess. No more sweating like a pig in gym class.

  With a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, Xander took off at a light jog towards home.

  Well, a light jog for him, at least.

  His growing devil powers had turned his usual awkward, gangly stride into something more akin to a horse's gallop. He cut through people's backyards, clearing fences with single hurdle-jumps, moving fast enough that an overzealous cop might possibly have given him a ticket in a school zone.

  Not that they'd catch me anyway, he thought with a smirk, relishing the wind whipping through his hair as he ran.

  As he rounded the corner onto his street a few minutes later, Xander slowed to a walk, his breath barely quickened despite the slight workout. The familiar sight of his house stood ahead, looking just as underwhelming as ever. The white paint was chipped and faded, the lawn overgrown and scattered with weeds. He fished the spare key out from under the potted plant by the door — very original, Dad — and let himself in.

  "Mom?" he called out, his voice echoing in the empty hallway. "Dad?"

  Silence greeted him. Great. Home sweet home, population: me.

  Xander sighed, not surprised but still a little disappointed. It wasn't like this was a new occurrence in the Harris household. The house wasn't a total disaster, just the usual layer of clutter that came from a grown man who couldn't be bothered to pick up after himself and a grown woman who was often too drunk to notice until she tripped over a bottle that wasn't hers. Empty beer cans and liquor bottles littered the coffee table, and a pile of dirty dishes was visible in the kitchen sink.

  At the very least, nothing smelled funky. Small mercies, Xander thought as he bounded up the stairs three at a time.

  He pushed open his bedroom door, taking in the familiar posters and action figures that decorated his space. Good to see you too, Master Skywalker, he mentally greeted the Star Wars poster hanging above his bed. The room was a mishmash of things he found cool and scraped up the money to get over the years - comic books stacked haphazardly on the floor, a Ghostbusters poster taped to the closet door, various action figures lining the shelves.

  It wasn't much, but it was his.

  As he rifled through his closet for some actual clothes, Xander's mind wandered to his parents' whereabouts. Mom was probably out of town again, off on another one of her "friend trips" that seemed to happen more and more frequently these days. Probably visiting Aunt Carolyn or some college buddy he'd never heard of before. And Dad? Who knows. Probably warming a barstool somewhere. Or a strip club. Or chatting up some lady of the night down by the 'ol No-Tell Motel.

  Irritation bubbled up in Xander's chest, but he pushed it down. Whatever. Not like I'm not used to the Harris family disappearing act by now.

  Seriously, he pushed it down, shoving the feeling into a mental box and slamming the lid shut.

  Who cares, honestly? His parents' business wasn't his own. They had made that clear in both word and deed. After all, they couldn't bother to visit me in the hospital, he thought to himself, pushing it further down again. Your only son got put in traction and you didn't care. But whatever...

  He pulled on a black muscle shirt and a pair of jeans, the fabric clinging to his frame in a way that would have been unthinkable just a few months ago. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Xander couldn't help but grin. Looking good, X-man. The ladies won't know what hit 'em.

  He flexed a bicep, admiring the way the muscle bulged under his skin. Eat your heart out, Fabio.

  As he headed back downstairs, his stomach growled loudly, reminding him of the other downside to absent parents. Right. Food. The other reason parents are supposed to exist.

  He poked his head into the kitchen, hoping against hope to find a twenty spot or even a measly fiver left on the counter for him. No such luck. The counters were bare save for a few dirty plates and an empty pizza box. They could've at least sprung for a pizza. Kid gets out of the hospital, you'd think that'd be worth a large pepperoni at least.

  Xander rolled his eyes as he grabbed his house keys. Not like I need their cash anyway. Being a devil's errand boy had its perks, even if it did come with the occasional near-death experience.

  Still, it was the thought that counted.

  He stepped out onto the front porch, closing the door to Casa de Harris behind him with a definitive click. The sun was high in the sky now, beating down on the bright and not-yet-spooky Sunnydale streets. Xander tilted his face up, soaking in the warmth. Looks like we're friends again, Mr. Sun. After weeks of being cooped up inside, healing from his injuries, the California sunshine felt like a balm on his skin.

  With a grin, he clenched his fists and flexed his arms down at his sides, feeling the power thrumming through his muscles. He could probably sink his fist into concrete right now and barely bruise his knuckles. His Demonic Energy had fully restored too, though it took more than a whole week, and even with the sun fully up at two in the afternoon, he felt like he could bench press a golf cart and still have some room for more weight. A whole two-and-a half weeks to heal up, and man, does it feel good to be back in action.

  He was about to head over to Willow's place — time to reassure the little bestie that I'm not six feet under — when a thought struck him.

  "Almost forgot!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

  The Rosen Queen check was waiting for him. And even better...

  "Time to check on my new minions," Xander chuckled, an evil grin spreading across his face. "Teach 'em to summon me on my day off."

  He set off down the street, nodding and smirking at the girls he passed. A few of them actually smiled back, which he had been noticing for a little while now. I could get used to this.

  As he made his way towards downtown Sunnydale, Xander couldn't help but wonder what his vampire "interns" were up to. Probably learning the finer points of file sorting and coffee fetching.

  – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –?

  Xander sauntered through the red-tinted glass doors of the Rosen Queen Company, the cool air-conditioning hitting him like a welcome breeze. The familiar ice cream truck symphony floated through the speakers, the discordant yet oddly catchy tune worming its way into his brain. I missed this weird muzak, he thought with a smirk. Kinda grows on you, like a funky alien parasite.

  He approached the front desk, where Tana, the demon receptionist, sat primping her hair. Her eyes lit up as she spotted him, a smile spreading across her face that was just a touch too eager for Xander's comfort. Down, girl, he thought, trying not to let his unease show.

  "Hey, Tana," Xander greeted, leaning casually against the counter. "What's shakin', bacon?"

  Tana giggled, the sound high-pitched and girlish, as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "Nothing much, bossman," she replied, her voice saccharine sweet and New York-accented for no real reason. "All quiet on the Northern front." She batted her eyelashes at him, the motion exaggerated and flirtatious. "How about you? Been boring over here without ya. Heard you had a little hospital stay."

  Xander shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Oh, you know," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just needed a vacation. Room service was terrible, though. Zero stars, would not recommend."

  Tana laughed again, the sound echoing in the lobby, a bit too loudly for the joke. Xander shifted uncomfortably, his mind flashing back to Sam's warning about not getting her too excited. Note to self: Invest in a heavy-duty super-soaker. For emergencies.

  He'd been doing plenty of research on his own time with Giles' books over the last couple months, supplementing it with tomes from the Rosen Queen's library, all in an effort to learn more about the nightlife. Granted, a lot of what he was looking into was more about his own particular brand of nightlife, but apparently, none of the books had much to say about Fiends, other than them being some of the biggest of big bads.

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  There was another race called devils, though, but that seemed to be more about their looks than anything else. Probably couldn't pronounce their real names without tying my tongue in knots, Xander mused.

  Tana's type of demon — Vimite — had a lot more information available, at least on the males; the Vigorie. Let's just say I get why Sam told me not to get her too riled up, Xander thought, suppressing a shudder. If the excitement didn't kill me, she definitely might.

  "So, uh, I'm just here to pick up a check," Xander said, clearing his throat and trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters. "Sam had me handle a job while I was lounging in my five-star accommodations."

  Tana perked up at that, leaning forward eagerly, her elbows resting on the desk. "Ooh, a job?" she asked, sounding for all the world like a classic Valley Girl, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Do tell."

  Xander hesitated, debating how much to share. Probably best not to get into the gory details, he decided. "Let's just say some jerk coach thought he could use a kid as a punching bag," he said, his voice turning serious. "His mom got a flyer and made a request. I... helped him reconsider his life choices."

  The job had been surprisingly simple, even with one arm in a cast. The universe had aligned just right, putting the creep in the same hospital as Xander for whatever reason. A quick knock on the head, some removed clothes, a strategically placed unconscious body, and voila - instant karma.

  Try explaining that to the judge, Coach Cro-Magnon, Xander thought with a smirk.

  "Anyway," he continued, "it was no biggie. Just your average day in the life of Xander Harris, Sunnydale's resident Devil-in-training."

  Tana's eyes widened, her mouth forming a little 'o' of surprise. "Wow," she breathed, sounding genuinely impressed. "You really did that? While you were hurt?"

  Xander shrugged again. "It was nothing," he said, waving a hand. "Guy had it coming. Besides, I heal fast."

  "Still," Tana insisted, "that's pretty amazing. You're really getting into the swing of things, huh? Mr. Ash must be impressed."

  Xander shrugged a third time. "I guess. Still feels weird sometimes, you know? Like, yesterday I was just regular old Xander. Now I'm... big bad demon guy."

  Tana nodded, her expression sympathetic. "I get it," she said, her voice softening. "It's a big change. But for what it's worth, I think you're doing great. Not everyone could handle this kind of thing as well as you are." She shook her head a little. "I mean, I couldn't fight vampires all night. I'm stronger than they are, sure, but I'm no fighter."

  Xander felt a warmth bloom in his chest at the praise, unexpected as it was. Huh. Who knew demons could be so encouraging?

  He glanced around the lobby, taking in the red and black decor, the plush couches, the abstract art on the walls. Even after weeks of coming here, the place still felt surreal at times. Like he'd stepped into an alternate dimension where everything was just a little bit off-kilter.

  Tana followed his gaze, a knowing smile on her lips. "Crazy, right?" she said, as if reading his thoughts. "Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life now."

  "Ya know?" Xander replied, meeting her eyes with a wry grin.

  "Oh, honey," Tana cooed, her voice dripping with a sweetness that set Xander's teeth on edge. She reached out to pat his hand, her fingers lingering just a little too long for comfort.

  Xander jerked back instinctively, Sam's warnings about Vimites flashing through his mind. Down, girl, he thought, forcing a smile. I'm not on the menu.

  "It's a big adjustment," Tana continued, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk, her chin propped up on her hands. "But you're doing great. I mean, look at you! Fresh out of the hospital and already back on the job. That's dedication, bossman."

  Xander nodded, his smile feeling more like a grimace. "Yeah, I guess," he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Speaking of which, about that check..."

  "Oh, right!" Tana exclaimed, her eyes widening as if suddenly remembering the reason for his visit. She rummaged through a drawer, her movements quick and efficient despite the long, manicured nails adorning her fingers. After a moment, she pulled out an envelope, holding it out to him with a flourish. "Here you go, bossman. One paycheck, hot off the demonic presses."

  Xander took the envelope gingerly and resisted the urge to peek inside, instead slipping it into his back pocket with a nonchalance he didn't feel. Even three months in, he still wasn't used to how much he was paid at this place. Play it cool, Harris, he told himself. James Bond never counts his cash at the reception desk.

  "Thanks, Tana," he said aloud, giving her a nod. "You're a lifesaver. Or, uh, deathsaver? Whatever the demon equivalent is."

  Tana beamed at him, her smile wide and predatory. "Anytime, Xander," she purred, her voice low and inviting. "You know where to find me if you need anything else." She punctuated the last word with a wink, her meaning crystal clear.

  Xander swallowed hard, his mind conjuring up all sorts of terrifying scenarios that ended with him in traction. Again. Yeah, no thanks, he thought, taking a step back from the desk. I like my bones unbroken and my soul intact, thank you very much.

  "Right," he said, giving Tana an awkward wave. "Well, I'll just be going then. Places to be, people to see, you know how it is."

  He turned to leave, his steps quickening as he made a beeline for the exit. Behind him, he heard Tana call out, "Come back soon, bossman! It gets lonely down here without your witty banter."

  Xander threw a thumbs up over his shoulder, not daring to look back. Note to self, he thought as he speed-walked towards the door. Next paycheck goes towards a really good lock for my bedroom door. Just in case.

  "Thank yew very much," he called back in his best Elvis impression, one hand already on the door handle.

  Only to stop.

  And turn around.

  "Actually, Tana," he said, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Is Sam in?"

  The demon girl tilted her head to the side, her expression thoughtful. "Mr. Ash? Oh, yeah, that's right," she said, snapping her fingers. "He actually left something for you."

  Xander raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Bossman did what now?"

  Tana reached into another drawer, pulling out a note printed in black ink on an expensive-looking embroidered red card. She held it out to him with both hands.

  Xander took the card slowly, his eyes scanning the words.

  Hello, Xander, if you're reading this, Tana made you fear for your life and/or crotch and you tried to leave before remembering you probably wanted to talk to me and turned around to ask Tana if I was th—

  Xander's head snapped up, his gaze locking onto Tana. The demoness was once again primping in her tableside mirror, seemingly oblivious to his scrutiny. He blinked, confused, before glancing back down at the card.

  —ere. By now, you've figured out something is off and you should look over your shoulder.

  Xander turned to the side, only to nearly jump out of his skin as he found himself face to face with his dreadlocked boss. "Gah!" he yelped, his heart racing in his chest. "Why would you do that?"

  Sam smirked, looking far too pleased with himself. "Because you're funny and predictable," he said with a nod, as if that explained everything.

  "I'm not pre—" Xander started to protest, only to cut himself off as he took in Sam's appearance. The devil was dressed in his usual work attire - a crisp red dress shirt, black tie, black vest, and shiny black shoes. Xander shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You don't believe in variety, do you?"

  Sam shook his head, patting Xander on the back before walking off. "Follow me, I've got some people to introduce you to."