Unexpected Aka Necromancer's Beginnings
by Danii
Fandom: Buffy: The Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG
Archive: yes
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: I already have a sequel planned
where Xander will head to LA and get into some trouble with Wolfram and Hart,
not to mention some other stuff. I'm working currently on another story called
"Of Chainsaws and Shotguns..." which is of the same sort of vein, and
it is a crossover with the Evil Dead movies. I am trying to write them both at
once, but It's hard work and I seem to be behind on Unexpected. I actually have
the next two chapters, I just haven't had the time to type them up.
Unexpected Aka Necromancer's Beginnings
by Danii
Xander was sick. He was so sick of being the extra. It had started almost a
year ago, the feeling of uselessness that had crept up on him like some kind of
icky demon he should fight. But this was one demon that Buffy and the gang only
made worse, and he had no weapon to attack it with. Nor did he posses a helpful
escape vehicle. It's very hard to run away from one's self.
So the feeling of uselessness had continued to grow. Every knock from a
vampire, every time he was thrown aside so that the monster could get to his
friends was another blow to his pride and feeling of worth.
But recently, he had to admit, things had taken an even stranger turn. For the
last few days, he'd had to stop himself from practically begging to go on
patrol with Buffy in the graveyard. It wasn't because he wanted to be included,
at least not entirely. He liked it there. It was an eerie feeling he got when
he was there, an almost comfortable familiarity in that place of the dead. He
could never explain it to the others; they'd probably think he was a crazy or
just plain sick.
It was the only place where he felt okay. Everywhere else, even his own room,
had a foreboding air to it, as if something was going to strike at him at any
moment. Though no one knew it, he'd taken to bringing a blanket and pillow to a
small ancient corner of the cemetery and camping out. He had to be very
careful. He didn't want anyone or anything to find him there. Whoever did would
either expose him or kill him. It was insane, but he couldn't sleep anywhere
else.
He didn't know what to do, whom to turn to. His friends were too wrapped up in
their own lives to really understand. Actually, he thought with awry mental
laugh, Buffy was more wrapped up in that damn commando's arms than anything else.
And
*
Giles, I had the weirdest dream last night. I mean,
like one of the Slayer dreams."
Giles looked up from his desk to see his favorite (and only) Vampire Slayer
having, as she herself put it, the "wiggins" on his doorstep. He
reminded himself that he should get a more secure lock in the future, and then
answered:
"What did you see, Buffy? Was it a demon, or a face? Some kind of dark
feeling?"
Buffy came in the door, and then sat on a chair near the desk. "Well, I
was in the cemetery. You know, the one by
Giles' look, which had started out as mild interest, was now something in-between
panic and complete surprise. "Blue flames you said?"
"Yeah, dark blue."
"I think it might be Azrael's Flame which you are speaking of..."
Giles said in a distracted tone, standing up and walking over to the bookshelf.
He scanned over many books, until he apparently found the one he was looking
for. He brought it back over to the desk, and then opened it. He mumbled
something Buffy couldn't understand until he found the page.
"What is it?" Buffy asked. From the way Giles was reacting, she
couldn't really tell if this was a good thing or a bad thing, or a combination
of both.
"Ah! Here it is...Azrael's Flame. 'Azrael's Flame'" he read,
"'is the tool of a necromancer, a controller of the dead. It can be used
in a variety of purposes, including those fire is traditionally utilized for,
but also including forms of majik. Dreams or visions of the flame are the
forerunner of the arrival of a necromancer. Several accounts of Azrael's Flame
visions have been recorded, the most widespread and recent being in 1960 and
1981, the first being in London, England, and the latter taking place in
Sunnydale, California.'"
"That's a pretty new book to have something that occurred in this
century..." Buffy said in amazement. For the most part, things in the
Giles books were dated by century, mostly in BC. An actual year in this century
was an oddity.
"That would be because this is a Watcher's digest of 20th Century occult
happenings. I acquired it New Years Eve last year from a friend in the
Watcher's Council who still likes me."
"Oh." Buffy let it soak in, then remembered her other question,
"Giles, what's a necromancer? And why did one visit here in 1981?"
"A necromancer" Giles explained, "is a person born with the
ability to raise the dead and maintain control over them. They have a certain
power over vampires, and for some reason, they seem to gravitate towards
Slayers, despite the lack of demonic or hell-related abilities."
"What do you mean, 'lack of demonic or hell-related abilities'?"
Buffy exclaimed, "They can raise and control the deceased, not to mention
a power over vampires! I'd call that demonic!"
"Calm down, Buffy..." Giles soothed, "Firstly, a necromancer is
not necessarily a bad person. They have a soul. They were born that way, as you
were, and necromancers are almost as rare as Slayers. There are only 3 or less
alive at a time. Secondly, that power is over the dead, not demons, and the
control over vampires comes from the fact that a vampire is technically
dead."
"Okay, but back to my second question. Why did one visit in 1981? And why
is one visiting now?"
"I believe that last bit wasn't in your original question, but I will give
my conjecture on both."
"Okay"
"There is a theory which has been put forth by a few of my colleagues that
states that the more widespread visions foretell not the arrival of a
necromancer, but the birth of one. Would you say that the man in your dream
could have been born in 1960?"
Buffy thought back and brought the image of the old man into her mind's eye.
"Yeah, that seems about right..."
"1960, if you don't remember, is the year of that other widespread
occurrence in
"So that means that you think that another necromancer was born here, in
1981?" Buffy asked, her mind doing the math at the same time.
"That is exactly what I think. And that would mean that the necromancer,
unless he or she has moved, was one of your graduating class."
"But, why would the vision be now? Why not all the time, if a necromancer
has lived here all along?"
"Firstly, because you came here and they were already here. Secondly,
because his power was not activated, most likely." Giles answered.
"Not activated?" Buffy asked.
"Yes" the Watcher answered, "A necromancer's powers are born
with him, but to be activated, another necromancer must come within a certain
range. I guess it is almost a self-defense measure..."
Buffy, who was thinking, suddenly looked up. "The other voice, the one who
saved me! That's the other necromancer! I couldn't tell whose voice it was, but
it wasn't old! It's the voice of the Sunnydale necromancer!"
Giles' eyebrows shot up. "Most likely...I didn't think of that... Go to
class, Buffy. I'll do some research on necromancers so that we might be able to
identify that helpful Sunnydale necromancer. I'll call you when I have
something..."
Buffy nodded, then walked out.
"I wonder what he's doing right now?" Giles murmured as he began to
dig into the books.
*
"Oh...dammit..." Xander moaned, waking up
from his little palette in the graveyard. He'd rolled onto a fallen gravestone,
and slept on it for most of the night. The result was a horrible back pain and
a few scratches. Not bad, Xander though, at least a demon didn't find me.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Came a familiarly annoying
British voice from within one of the mausoleums.
"I jinxed it didn't I?" Xander asked himself under his breath before
answering, "Well, I was trying to sleep..."
"Sleep?" came the voice again, incredulous, "Outside? In
Sunnydale? In a graveyard?"
"Well, I made it through the night, didn't I?" Xander yelled back. He
was permanently annoyed with Spike in the first place, and now the level of
annoyance was rising, right along with anger and panic. He began to collect his
things.
"Lucky little bastard..." Spike said with disgust, his face finally
appearing in the doorway to the mausoleum, "If I hadn't-BLOODY HELL!"
Spike, who had been glaring at Xander, suddenly jumped back in complete terror.
Xander, who was pretty much aggravated with the world, growled at him.
"What?"
Spike didn't want to speak, but Xander could follow his eyes. Spike kept
staring at his ear, or rather, just above it, then at his eyes. Xander could
feel the irritation, and something else he couldn't really identify, rising.
"What is it!?"
"Look, chap. I'm real sorry about all the times I called you a loser, and
how I tried to wreck your clothes, and all the times I tried to kill you
and-"
"What's with the sudden apologies, Spike?" Xander asked, getting up.
Spike cringed. "I didn't see any gypsies come by recently..."
"Look, chap, pal, buddy, friend, compadre, amigo-"
"What?" Xander asked, his anger mounting.
"Okay" Spike said, "Just promise me you won't make me a pet!
I've seen that happen to a couple o' my old pals. That damn blue-eye had ole'
Jonathon fetchin' him tea! It was bloody humiliating! I couldn't deal with that
sort of rubbish! I just couldn't! I mean, I can't even bit anyone anymore!
Don't make me a pet too!"
"Pet? Tea? What the hell are you talking about?" Xander growled. His
back hurt and now his head was starting to itch from who knows what.
Spike was a bit shocked, but was able to ask, "You don't know?"
"Know what?" The young man asked, knowing that if he didn't release whatever
was building up inside him soon, he would absolutely burst.
"What you are, you blasted numb-skull! Why your hair's turned white, why
you're sleeping in a damned graveyard!"
"No I don't!" Xander yelled at him. As he did, though, he felt the
whatever-it-was leave him, coursing through his body, out of his toes, and into
the ground. When it left, Xander calmed. "Now, Spike, what exactly are you
talking about?"
Spike nearly smiled, but thought better of it. "What I was talkin' about
was the fact that you're a-"
He didn't get to finish, because Xander interrupted
him with a shout of surprise. The ground beneath the young man's feet was
moving violently, and as they watched, a figure covered in tattered clothing
rose from the ground. Time had eaten away at the body, but they could tell it
was female from the remaining pink cloth on it and the strands of dirty, rotted
hair which hung limply from its skull. An eyeless skull seemed to take one look
around, stare directly at Xander, stare at the sun, and then it disappeared in
a puff of dust.
"Necromancer..."
"A what?" Xander asked. He seemed to be asking that a lot today, and
considering today had just started, his level of cluelessness must have be
higher than normal.
"A Necromancer, a raiser, an animator, a blue-eye," Spike rambled;
then when he realized that Xander still had no idea what he was talking about,
his expression turned to anger, and he shouted, "a person who makes dead
people get up and do what he wants!"
"You mean I can raise the dead?" Xander asked nervously. Even as he
said it, a little voice in his head answered him in the affirmative.
"Well" Spike answered simply, pointing at the mound of earth from
which the now-dusted corpse had risen from.
"So, what? I was cursed? Or all this dealing with vampires has affected me
in some way?"
"No, you bloody idiot..." Spike said, the condescending note back in
his voice where it belonged, "You were born that way."
"Born that way?" Xander asked, recollecting his things. They had
tumbled out of order when the corpse had risen, "You mean, I'm like some
kind of zombie-making freak of genetics!?"
"Not exactly, mate. There are only three of you people alive at a time.
You're like a Slayer or somewhat...But different."
"'But different'!?" Xander exclaimed, "What the hell kind of
help is that, Spike? It's like telling me that an elephant is like a
squirrel...but different! What the hell am I?"
"I already told you!" Spike answered angrily, trying not to tick off
the young animator, "You can raise the dead, you can make them do what you
want, and you can use Death's Flame."
"Death's Flame?" Xander asked, getting more confused every time Spike
answered him.
"Yeah, that blue fire that keeps on coming out of your fingers..."
Spike pointed.
Xander looked down to his hand, which he had been drumming against his pants
leg. He hadn't noticed before then, but flickering at the edge of his
fingertips was a little blue flame. Xander yelped, yanked his hand away from
his pants, and stared at it, as if it wasn't the same appendage he'd lived with
all his life.
"It's been doing that for the last five minutes, since that thing rose, so
if it could have done damage, it would have, you dolt..." Spike said
lazily.
Xander's attention shifted from his hand to Spike, and the look of fear
metamorphosised into one of haughtiness. "I wouldn't be so annoying,
Spike. I didn't forget what you were saying before, about having a vampiric
'pet'. Sounds interesting..."
Spike's entire manner changed as he heard just how serious the young man was.
Just as the vampire had no real allegiance to the Scooby gang, Xander had no
good feelings toward Spike. Then he perked up.
"Yeah, but you don't know how!"
"I didn't know how to raise a corpse either..." Xander pointed out
smugly. At the look of fear that crossed Spike's face, Xander smiled. "If
you don't tell anyone what I am, I won't turn you into a 'pet' as you so
wonderfully put it. Deal?"
"Deal." Responded the vampire. "But with those white streaks in
your hair, and the eyes and all that other rubbish, don't you think they'll
find out anyway?"
Xander smiled again, and then pulled out his pizza delivery hat. He put it on.
"No streaks!"
"What about the flamey hand thing?"
"I'll just be careful..." Xander said, not knowing if he was trying
to convince himself or the vampire.
"Superman has a more water-tight disguise, I'll have you know, mate."
Xander, who had been picking up his blanket roll, looked up at the British
vampire. "You read comics?"
"Partial to X-men personally, but I read a bit of the classic stuff as
well" Spike said, half to himself, "The Shadow was a good one...
Always liked him. Not to mention the- Hey! What's so funny?"
"Just never figured you as a comic book guy...you know, one day, you and I
gotta have a long conversation about comics. You collect?"
Spike snorted. "Of course! With a lifespan like mine, hell yeah! Not that
I'd ever sell a one o' them..."
Xander gave Spike a look with a bit more respect in it than usual, and walked
off towards home to get dressed for work
*
"Buffy? Buffy, this is Giles..."
"Giles. Good. Any news on the necromancer?"
"Well, not exactly, but I do have something. I looked up necromancers in
every book I own, and from that, I was able to figure out some common traits
and identifying marks which might help us to find the young man or woman who
might be able to help us against the one who visited you."
"Well?" Asked the Slayer over the phone line. Riley was sitting on
the bed, waiting for her to finish getting ready for their date. He was doing
hand movements and everything. They were a bit late for the reservation.
"Yes, well, it seems that they share certain physical characteristics.
While they can be male or female, they all have blue eyes, such as the one you
saw, and black hair. Also, as you noticed in your dream, they possess bright
white streaks at their temples. I'm looking for more, but hopefully what I have
found so far will help you..."
"Okay, Giles. Gotta go!"
"Oh, um...okay... Good luck Buffy..."
The click told Buffy she could hang up, and she was relieved to. But when she
turned around, she found Riley befuddled and worried.
"Necromancer? What necromancer? What's going on, Buffy?" he asked,
trying his best not to sound like a soldier as he did.
"Well, I had a dream, and the man in the dream might be a necromancer, so
Giles did some research. Now, he's convinced that not only is one coming here,
but that there's a necromancer already in Sunnydale and that he or she was one
of my classmates."
"Okay..." Riley answered. There is very little to say to a comment
like that.
"Anyway, he just told me what to look for on a necromancer-"
"Big horns and scary teeth?" Riley asked with a smile.
"No" Buffy answered with a bit of somberness, "Necromancers are
human. Remember how I told you that every evil isn't necessarily demonic? This
is one of those times..."
"Oh" Riley said, a bit crestfallen.
"Anyway, so far, Giles says to look for blue eyes, black hair. Maybe white
streaks." Buffy said, walking over to the door.
Riley looked up. "Do you want me to call it in, look through
profiles?"
"Not really" Buffy answered as he got up from her bed and they walked
out, "You see, supposedly, the necromancer is only activated when another
one comes by, so any changes in looks wouldn't be in the records. And it might
have just happened."
"Do you know the gender?"
"No" Buffy answered, sighing, "Could be either..."
"So, pretty much, you have nothing that could be looked up..." Riley
said, obviously disappointed at not being able to help.
"Well, he didn't say that those things would have been recent. I just
thought of that because I'd never seen more than a few with that combination,
and the specific one I'm thinking about couldn't possibly be it. So you could
ask them to look up any Sunnydale residents from my graduating class that have
blue eyes and black hair."
"What about the white streaks?" Riley asked.
"Well, I would have noticed that. It's not as common. Perhaps that's one
of the changes they go through when they're activated."
Riley then proceeded to call into the Initiative's headquarters. He quickly
gave them the parameters of the search, and then tucked the small phone back
into a hidden pocket in his outfit.
"Alright, let's go..."
And they did.
*
Back in the non-romantic world, Xander was sitting in
his car, wondering just what was going to happen, not to mention what he was
going to do about it. Should he tell the Scooby gang? How would he keep it from
them anyway? And Anya...Would she understand or would she turn and run from him.
He knew next to nothing about what he was, other than what he'd experienced and
what Spike had told him, so how would he know what would give him away and what
wouldn't? He couldn't go around raising corpses accidentally and have everyone
look at him weird. Besides, he'd lose his job if he, or the pizzas, smelled
like a dead body.
So, he figured, I have to figure out how to control these...powers. Xander
hadn't the slightest idea where to start, but soon came up with something.
Giles, he guessed, had to have something on what he was. But, Xander reflected,
he couldn't think of one way to get a book from the Watcher's library without
incriminating himself. Then he remembered the majik shop which he had often
driven
When he walked in, the first thing he noticed was the strong aroma of spice in
the air.
Xander didn't see anything, at least not anything relevant. Not a single thing
on what he wanted. So he was not unhappy to see the owner standing right behind
him with a large grin on his face. Xander smiled back at him, then stood
straight up.
"I, uh, can't seem to find anything about the, er...topic which I
need" Xander asked nervously.
The old man looked into his eyes then, staring deep and hard, as if he was
taking a measure of Xander's soul with that look. His face went blank for a
moment, then the smile returned.
"Looking for something on...animation?"
"Ani-Oh, yeah...Animation. Yeah, you know me. Love Disney!" Xander
said with a fake smile.
"Don't worry, young man. I knew who and what you were the moment you
walked into my store with young
"You...You know my dad?" Xander asked, surprise written plainly on
his face. Why would his dad know anyone like this man? His father hated
anything remotely illogical or occult. The math in his head wasn't working out.
"Yes, I know Ambrose. He's become quite a wreck these days. Drunk more
than not. Not much of a father, I know..." The old man looked pained as he
said it. He looked into Xander's eyes with such compassion and concern,
"Ambrose is not one to deal with such things, at least not
anymore..."
Xander wanted to speak up. He wanted to defend his father against this old man
who was saying things about his father. But the words stuck in his throat. They
would be lies. His father was a bum. An alcoholic, abusive bum who didn't give
a damn about anything, especially his son.
"Yes, I knew Ambrose when he was a bright young man in love. He had such
joy. He couldn't wait to be a father. His green eyes would shine at the site of
your mother, her belly round with child, her brown eyes sparkling in the sun
behind a few strands of blonde hair. They were both so happy, so excited...Excited
about you, Alexander..."
"Bull" Xander said coldly in a coarse whisper. He knew his parents
didn't give a damn about him, and this old man was making him start to believe
the lies. The lies that would come to him at night, as he lay in his bed and
dreamed of happier times that didn't exist and probably never would. The lies
that told him his parents really did love him, that they were just...he didn't
even remember all the excuses he had made up.
The old man gave him a strange look, and then stared at him full in the face.
"No, Xander. There was a time when you were the most precious thing in the
world to them. They loved you more then their own lives. You know that Ambrose
gave up a good job at an ad agency in
"When what? When he saw what a colossal mistake I was, THEN he started to
drink like a madman and beat my mother and I?" Xander asked angrily. He
could feel his anger rising again, and familiar tickle he wouldn't have
recognized unless he'd had it before told him that his fingers were flickering
with blue fire.
The old man blinked, then looked down at Xander's hand. Xander didn't look at
it, though. He kept his eyes on the man.
"When you were four, you probably don't even remember..."
"What!"
"You raised your dog from the dead..."
"What?" Xander asked in total shock. Every trace of anger had left
him. What the man had said had been too surprising to allow him to hold the
anger.
"Your dog, Checkers, got hit by a car. He died on the way to the vet. You
buried him in the backyard that day. It started to rain, but you stayed out
there with Checkers. You were so young, but he was your friend. I don't know
what was going on with you, but the next moment, a little nose appeared in the
dirt. Then out came Checkers. You were so happy that you completely forgot the
fact that he had been DEAD. You brought him in to your parents, smiling like
you always did. Your mother began to scold you for being out in the rain, but then
she started to scream when she saw the dog. Ambrose came then, and took
Checkers. You never saw him again. You never remembered..."
Xander stood in total shock while the memories came rushing back to him. How
could he forgotten? How could he forget that? He'd been so young...
"How-how do you know all that?"
The old man looked near to tears. This poor boy had gone through so much, so
very much for one so young. And it wasn't even his fault. It was something none
of them, Ambrose, himself, Marie, Xander, could control. He put his hand on the
boy's shoulder. "Because, my young man, I am your Uncle Gerard..."
"Uncle?" Xander asked. He had gotten too many surprises today, and
they had taken their toll. The boy was close to fainting.
*
"Yes...Uncle. As in, brother to your
father..." the old man said softly.
"My...uncle..." Xander said slowly, assimilating the information.
"Yes. Your uncle, Xander."
"How." It was something between a question and a statement of
disbelief.
"Well, your father and I had the same mother and father...but if you're
asking why you never knew that, it's because of the dog incident."
"Why?" Xander hadn't gotten up to complicated sentences. His brain
was too busy working on keeping him upright and alive.
"I was...It was supposed to be MY child that got the gift. He'd worked it
out so carefully, checking the dates and the family records. He was all set for
a normal life. He even took his wife's name, Harris, to get away from the
family."
"So..."
"When he saw the blue eyes and the black hair, he got scared and upset. He
told me never to mention anything of my work or such to you, that he didn't
want his child influenced by the very thing he was trying to shield his family
from...but you grew, and he began to hope that perhaps you were just a normal
boy. That his boy HADN'T got the gift. But every hope he had for a normal life
was crushed the moment you brought in that dog..."
"You mean?"
"Yes, my boy. It's a family thing. Necromancers and other such
things...they're part of being a LaVelle. Every third generation gets one with
your talent, and the rest of us have respectable abilities all our own."
"What's yours?" Xander asked, trying to go bit by bit.
"I have a flair for spells, specifically Transformation spells." Said
Gerard with a bit of pride.
"And Dad?"
"He was the finest at Protection spells, if I recall. At least I think
so... That might have been your Aunt Myrtle..."
"Aunt Myrtle?" Xander repeated questioningly. The idea of his aunt
doing anything other than flirting with his other relatives' dates at the
family Christmas party was unusual to say the least.
"No, no... Myrtle was best at Glamours. It was your father who did the
Protection spells. They're all around your house, you know. And Willow's...
Once you started being friends with her, he did a few circles at her house to
make sure she was okay also. Finest spell work in this damn town, if I may say
so...'If you need a good spell, ask for LaVelle!'"
"I think I'm going to be sick..." Xander said suddenly. This was too
much. He had dealt with more demons than the majority of people his age, but
some newly discovered relation talking about his family's magical talents like
they were bowling scores was too much after the whole 'necromancer' thing.
"Easy boy, easy..." Gerard said soothingly as he eased his nephew to
a seat, "I know it's a little much to take in all at once, but it's your
family..."
"And my father...?" Xander asked after a minute of simply absorbing
all that had been told to him, "Why did he..."
"Why did he become such a piece-of-crap drunk?" Gerard asked softly.
"Yeah...why?"
"Because he found out what kind of a town this was, because he wasn't sure
about what you might raise, because he was 35 years old, completely confused
and grief-stricken, and he had refused the only family he had when he needed
them the most then..."
"Bastard..." Xander said through clenched teeth, "Lousy, rotten,
filthy, cowardly bastard..."
"No, Xander. I thought so at first, but you must understand how dangerous
it is to be what you are...He was just-"
"What? Worried?" Xander asked, using the anger to bowl over his other
emotions to a tolerable level, "He didn't want anything to hurt me, so he
could do a better job of it?"
"No, he-"
"Don't. Okay, just don't. You haven't lived with him like that for 18
years of your life. You haven't suffered mental and physical abuse from his
hands. You haven't lived your life in fear of your father because he was a
Goddamned coward and hated you for something you couldn't prevent. So don't
tell me it's not his fault, all right?"
The old man could see the fire in his eyes, the pain the boy was in, and how
much it cost him to say what he was saying out loud. Xander had always hidden
his pain. It was so much easier to laugh at himself than deal with what he had
at home. And now he was telling off the only family member who seemed to give a
damn about him. Xander felt like screaming.
"I wasn't going to say that, Xander..." his uncle said slowly,
"I was only going to tell you that there was a time when you were
everything to him. When he wasn't stuck so far inside the bottle that the only
time he crawled out was to get into another one. And that, if you tell
him...tell him everything on everything about everything...well, maybe you can
bring him back."
"Bring him back?"
"Yes. Tell him about your friends. Tell him the good work you've done, are
still doing. Tell him just who and what your friends are. What your girlfriend
is...Show him that denying the problem or drowning it in booze only makes the
trouble grow. Show him that you're going to be all right."
"But-"
Gerard looked him straight in the face as he said it, but the gentleness in his
voice was plain. "He was a good man, Alexander. Show him the way to be one
again. Show him how to be what he should. Show him you still love him, despite
what he did to you, because I know you do, my boy. The passion in your tone
told me. You still love him; show him how to love you..."
And with that, his uncle handed him a large wooden case, ushered him out, and
closed the door.
*
"Lord and Lady, help that child. He's a good
boy...let him find his father in that old drunk. Let him find a family
again..."
*****
Xander looked back at the glass door that his newly
discovered uncle had just pushed him out of. Gerard was still at the door,
staring after him with such a look on his face, Xander couldn't even describe
it. It was something between sadness and hope. The young animator switched that
large case to his one hand and waved. His uncle, looking a bit distracted,
waved back.
It was then, as he headed back to his car, that he started to wonder what the
case was. Gerard had taken it out after Xander had nearly fainted, and had been
fingering it nervously during the rest of the conversation. Despite it's size,
Xander found it to be quite light, and he had no problem carrying it to his
car.
As soon as he loaded everything in, Xander started up the car and drove home.
He still had a couple hours till he was supposed to start his job, and he
wanted to examine the case, and whatever it held, in privacy.
He entered his little abode and plopped down on the bed with the large case.
He'd noticed it had a slight tingle to it. Xander didn't know why but he
planned to find out. Still on the bed, he flipped open the clasps and pulled
open the case.
He figured out what the tingling was as soon as he opened it. It had to be some
sort of spell to make the case light, because, with the amount of heavy items
in there, there was no way it could be as light as it was. The entire left side
was covered in little compartments, filled with all sorts of labeled
ingredients for who knows what. The other side was like a little shelf, and it was
filled with at least twenty small leather-bound books.
Xander didn't want to mess with whatever was in the containers, but the books
were definitely what Xander wanted. He pulled the one on the top left and
looked it over. The little book was about 5 inches tall, an inch thick, and
covered in black leather. Gold engraving told him the name of the volume.
"The Arts of Necromancy" Xander read with a smile. This was exactly
what he needed. His mind went back to his uncle in the store. He hadn't even
charged him. Xander made a mental note to thank Uncle Gerard next time he went
in for Willow or, he thought with a smile, himself. But thoughts of the kind
man reminded him of what had been said about his own father. Xander's mind
boggled at the very idea of talking to his father. The only thing he did know
was that he had to surprise his old man, and make sure he was strong enough to
take anything the old bastard threw at him, magic, punches, or cutting
comments.
And with a zeal born of desperation, Xander began to read the books.
*****
"Yes...yes...yes, I understand...yes." Riley said into the cell phone
as Buffy watched anxiously.
"What? You understand what?" Buffy asked apprehensively. She didn't
get Slayer dreams very often, and usually they meant trouble. Real trouble.
"Well" Riley said as he closed the cell phone and tucked it into his
pocket, "We have three names that match the blue eyes, black hair, and the
right graduation class."
"Names?"
"Myra Robbins."
"Not. The voice I heard was distinctly male..."
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" Riley asked, more than a little
aggravated. At Buffy's shrug of apology, he said the next name.
"Nicholas Addams."
"Maybe. He was awful weird all year. It's a possibility..."
"And Alexander Harris."
"Do I even have to dignify that with an answer? I mean, think of it...
Xander, animator of the dead. Doesn't work in your mind either, does it?"
Buffy said with a smile.
"Not really," Riley answered, "But sometimes, people can
surprise you."
"Xander?" Buffy asked with something close to shock, "Not
Xander. Xander is Xander is Xander. I've seen paper towels with more
complication to them..."
"I'm just saying..." Riley argued, "Sometimes people are a lot
more complicated and bizarre than anyone could ever guess. I mean, ever in your
wildest dreams did you think that I was working for the Initiative before that
day in the clock tower?"
"No" Buffy admitted, "But you're you...and Xander is Xander.
I've known him since I came here, and Willow has known him since they were
three."
"Just don't count someone out too quickly" Riley said, "And
never judge a book by it's cover..."
"Sorry, Riley. With Xander, what you see is what you got..."
*
Ambrose Harris, who was in truth Ambrose LaVelle, was
drunk. In fact, he was very drunk. It wasn't unusual for him to be drunk. It
was pretty common, actually. If it was any more common, he could probably mark
it off on the calendar. He knew Drunkenness, and it's less pleasant friend The
Hangover, like the back of his hand. Then again that was looking a little
blurry at the moment to Ambrose, so that might not be the best of comparisons.
As far as he knew, he was alone. His wife, Marie, who was more of an irritation
than anything else, was at her 2nd job, and his no-good son was also at his
ever-so illustrious job as pizza delivery guy. Not that Ambrose had a finer
job. He pretty much wrote dull copy at a local ad agency.
Of course, Xander wasn't actually at work. He was downstairs reading up on how
to raise the dead and other things that were part of his newly discovered
powers. Though Ambrose had no idea, Xander was already up to the 4th chapter in
the 9th volume. All of the experiments had worked perfectly, and while Xander
was proud of himself, the repercussions had made a bit of noise during the last
three ones. Not that Ambrose noticed. He would have barely noticed a train
running through his living room.
But for some reason, he noticed the phone, which was ringing. Ambrose, damning
the phone and the caller, nonetheless went over and answered it. The voice that
spoke to him as he did sobered him like nothing else could.
"Hello, little brother..." said Gerard, "We have to talk.
Now..."
Ambrose's sunken eyes seemed to bulge, and the tremors in his hands got worse.
"What do you want? I thought I told all of you to leave me alone!"
"Leave you alone?" his older brother yelled over the phone line, his
voice strained with anger and disbelief, "Leave you alone! You expect me
to leave you alone when you are doing irreversible and unnecessary damage to my
flesh and blood because you wanted some damned privacy? When the boy's
struggling with his powers like a duckling in water"
"What the hell are you talking about!?" Xander's father roared,
"It's my damned business what goes on in my family, and if the Family
found out about you meeting with Alexander when I strictly forbid it, you'd
b-"
"I'd be nothing" Gerard said in a firm, calm voice, "The boy
came to my store and asked for my help. He got the marks and didn't know where
to go, and I helped him. And the Family fully supports me."
"What do you mean, the Family supports you?" Ambrose yelled angrily.
"I received permission from all of the Family. We've seen what you have
let your life become, how you have tarnished your name and irrevocably damaged
the family which you proclaim you only want to protect. We gave you time,
Ambrose. We gave you 15 years. You haven't fixed it, and now I will. Unless you
clean up within the week, Xander will be moved to my house to stay with
me."
"Hell no!"
The voice grew colder then it had been before, and carried an edge, which
Ambrose found vaguely frightening. "And if you dare harm on hair on that
child, brother, I will personally make sure that you never, ever do it again.
In the most painful way possible..."
"You can't do that!" Ambrose cried, angry and alarmed.
"Yes I can. I could come get him right now, but I wanted to see if you
could fix things with the boy. He still loves you, Ambrose..." Gerard's
voice grew softer, "He loves you so much, despite all you've done to make
him hate you. You have and can hurt him like no one else, brother, because of
who you are to him. But understand that if you screw it up again, I will see
him get revenge instead of his father."
"Fine" Ambrose answered gruffly, knowing that no matter what, he had
to do what was told to him.
"This isn't playing, Ambrose..." his brother said, the softness
turning to urgency, "There's a Brondstaff coming to town."
"A Brondstaff?" Ambrose asked, surprised, " A Brondstaff
necromancer is coming to Sunnydale?"
"Yes, Ambrose. He wants to test himself against the Slayer and the LaVelle
animator..."
"Dear God..." Ambrose said with horror.
"Yes." Gerard said coldly, "And he has no training whatsoever,
the poor boy..."
Finally, something else computed into Ambrose's still slightly off brain.
"Slayer?"
"Dear Goddess, you really have been lost for the last decade and a half,
haven't you?"
Ambrose didn't answer. To think, he'd been so damned ignorant that he didn't
know that the Slayer was in Sunnydale.
"Who?" Ambrose asked, rubbing his brow with his other hand.
"Buffy Summers, though goodness knows that you don't deserve the
information..."
"Buffy? That blonde little friend of Alexander's? That's the Slayer?"
The younger asked with skepticism.
"Yes, you damned ass! Don't you realize anything!? Xander has been
fighting for the last 3 or 4 years besides the Slayer, doing all those things
you claimed you never wanted him to get involved with... without his powers,
without training, without a safety net..." Gerard's voice had grown heated
as he spoke from discovering just how clueless his brother was to the world.
"God..." Ambrose didn't even have any other words to say.
"Yes. You had better pray! That boy has nearly died more times than I can
count because you wouldn't tell him what he was, who he was, that he had a
whole family who was ready to help!" The heat had risen till Gerard was
shouting into the phone, but Ambrose didn't move the receiver.
"I will do what you asked..." Ambrose said with something near shock.
"Good." After Gerard's last word, the phone clicked to tell Ambrose
that his brother had hung up.
"Dear Lord," Ambrose said to himself after putting down the phone,
his voice and body shaking with the truth of what he had become and what he had
done to his son, "Dear Lord..."
*
The thumping on the stairs told Xander that someone
was coming, and the slightly irregular step told him the unpleasant identity of
the person coming. It was his father.
Muttering several exclamations, which would have made Willow blush red, Xander
quickly collected his new things and packed them back into the case, which he
promptly stuffed underneath his bed, an area that was already over crowded.
However, Xander realized as his father stared from the steps, he had forgotten
to hide one exceedingly essential thing.
A large ball of dark blue flame swirled two feet above Xander's head. Xander
looked up and yelped at the sight of it, hoping that his father would believe
whatever bull he came up with to explain it. But before he could say a word,
his father stopped gaping and finished his way down the steps.
Xander made his way slowly to the area of his humble abode that was farthest
from the stairs, then opened his mouth to speak. However, his old man raised a
hand in a quiet demand for silence, to which Xander willingly listened.
"That's a-a" the old man stuttered from the awkwardness of the
situation, "That's an awful nice ball of fire, Xander. You've got a lot of
talent for your first day..."
Xander couldn't talk. He couldn't say a word. The young man had never found
himself in such a situation. Whether it was a joke, an exclamation of pain, or
a simple statement, Xander LaVelle Harris always had something to say, even if
it was stupid and pointless. Now, he had nothing...
"Yes, even Great-grandfather Lewis couldn't do that on his first day. At
least not one of that size. Yes, my boy, you do have quite a gift..."
Ambrose said as he shambled farther into the room.
Finally, Xander's tongue and mind returned to this reality, and he chuckled
softly in a way that wasn't in the least funny. "I raised a corpse this
morning too..." he said in a strangled tone.
His father gave him a strange look, which changed quickly into one that was
something of a mix between pride and shame. "Been sleeping in the
graveyard, have you?"
"Yeah" replied Xander in a neutral tone, "Started about a week
or so ago. Don't worry, I was quiet about it and everything...Don't want to
wreck the family name...Or did you do that already?"
The last was said angrily, and unknown to Xander, his eyes flashed like the
blue flame above his head. Ambrose was startled for a moment, and then his
expression showed grim resolve. He was not going to screw this up again. No
longer.
"I have, haven't I?" Ambrose said tiredly, sitting on Xander's unmade
bed, "I shot this branch of the LaVelle's straight to hell with my boozing
and abuse..."
"Well, " Xander said non-committaly, "I've seen the mouth of
hell, and well, it was a lot worse, so I don't quite know about that."
Xander paused and thought for a moment, then added, "But you got us pretty
damned close to that..."
The two men stared at one another, the elder's eyes bloodshot and filled with
remorse and fear, the younger's blue and filled with anger, anxiety, and fire.
They remained like that for a moment, watching one another. It seemed as if
time stilled for the two, as if the universe was holding its breath to see what
would happen. Finally, Xander broke the moment.
"Goddamn it, Dad!" He yelled in frustration, banging his fist into
the desk hard, "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you do this!? Why, Dad?
Why!? Why have you made my life a living hell for something I couldn't
control?! Why didn't you tell me why I was sleeping in a graveyard? Why didn't
you tell me what happened to Checkers? What was so frickin' important that you
had to do this to me!? What, Dad!? What!?"
Ambrose looked at his son. His wonderful, brave son. His son, who had faced
demons and vampires and monsters without any sort of defense just because he
knew it was the right thing to do. This amazing, tolerant, kind, funny,
compassionate, patient boy. His son, who still loved him despite all the effort
Ambrose had put to making him hate his old man. His son who was noble, and better
than anyone gave him credit for. His son, who had learned all by himself to be
all the things that Ambrose never was and never would be. His son, whom he had
abused for 15 years in heart, mind and soul. Ambrose couldn't speak for a
moment, and even when his voice returned, it was as soft as a whisper.
"You."
"Me?" The boy said slowly, "Me... You abused the hell out of me
for 15 years to help...me?"
Before Ambrose could explain, Xander went on, the voice cold and mocking.
"Where'd you get THAT bottle, Dad? I'm sure Giles would love have one for
himself... If it's strong enough for...well, then it could probably kill a
vampire at one whiff."
"But, you don't understand!" Ambrose cried, "Being what you are,
being who you are, it's-"
"What?" Xander asked, his rage unparelled to any before,
"dangerous? Well, you know what's even more dangerous, Dad? Hunting
vampires, saving the world, stopping the hellmouth from opening when you can't
even use the only gift your father has ever given you because you don't even
know about it? No. You want to know what scares me the most, Dad. What has made
me wake up in cold sweats when I fall asleep while researching in the library?
The thought of coming home to face a father who wishes I was never born!"
"Dear God, Alexander-"
"Don't call me that!" Xander cried angrily, "My name is Xander!
XANDER! Everyone has called me that since I was 5, but you wouldn't know that,
would you?"
"No," Ambrose sighed, looking even more tired than he had before,
"No, I didn't."
Neither spoke for a moment, then Xander picked up the case beneath his bed. He
was going to leave. But before he could, Ambrose spoke.
"I can't take back what I did, Xander" he said quietly, his voice
defeated and full of grief, "I can only try to learn from my mistakes, all
million of them. And I can try to be what I should have been for 15 years. I
can try to be a father again. But only if you want it, my boy, only if you
want. Otherwise, you'll be staying with your Uncle Gerard and his family. It's
your choice, but know that I am so deeply sorry about what I did to you. I
was...I don't even know what I was, what I have remained as. I had my whole
world flipped upside down in a second, and unlike you, I couldn't deal with it.
I can never make up for what I did, but if you could find it in your heart to
give me a chance, I'd sure as hell try. You have till Friday to decide. Do what
you want. Do whatever you want."
*
Xander looked at his father a moment more, then seemed
to make a decision. He picked up the case, and walked out. Ambrose watched his
back as he left until he could no longer see his son, then began to weep for
all the pain he knew he deserved...
Xander was tired. He was tired, and sore, angry, and overjoyed, and confused.
Mostly, he was confused. And tired. So much had happened in the last two days.
In the amount of time that most people take to spend time with their families,
Xander had found out that he had a large one that he had never even known
about. Not to mention that little 'I-can-raise-the-dead" thing, which he
had been learning was so much more complicated than it had sounded. But not
much.
And now he had to choose whether he wanted to stay with his father, or go and
live with his newly found Uncle Gerard. Xander had despised his father ever since
he had begun boozing 15 years ago, but during the talk he'd had, he had sensed
something in the drunken old man. His father had meant every word, even about
being sorry. He couldn't remember how long he'd waited to hear his father say
those words. And now they'd been said. But Xander wondered if it had been too
long to fix it. He was so confused.
He didn't know what to do, whom to turn to now. He couldn't go home, he
couldn't talk to his friends, because they didn't know about what and who he
was. And he couldn't talk to Anya, because he wasn't sure if she'd be helpful
or hurtful. But if he didn't talk to someone, he'd go nuts.
He found his answer in his pants, or rather, his pants' pocket. It was a little
card, with some writing and a strange lobster-like symbol on it. Xander was
digging for change when he found it and nearly tossed it, but when he read the
writing, he knew it was a blessing.
Xander, his case in tow, made his way to a well-lit pay phone, put in the
change, and dialed. It rang once, and then a familiar voice came over the
phone.
"Hello! Angel Investigations! We help the hopeless!"
"Cordy!" Xander said, relieved, "It's me, Xander! Can I talk to
your boss?"
"Xander?" she asked in surprise, "Yeah, but if you hurt him or
anything, I'll beat you to death with a shoe!"
"Okay..." Xander said patiently, "I promise. No nasty comments,
no bad jokes, no sticking a stake through the phone line..."
"Fine"
There was a pause for a few moments, then Xander could hear the phone pass
hands.
"Xander?" Asked Angel. He had no idea why the teen would want to talk
to him, at least about anything civil. Or nonapocalyptic...
"Yeah, it's me." Xander said, "Listen, do you happen to know
anything about a family called LaVelle?"
There was a long whistle across the phone line. "Oh man, you're in a mess?
With a LaVelle?"
"No, but could you like tell me about them?"
"What's there to tell?" Angel answered, "They're one of the
Three Families of Majik."
"Whoa, that sounded like it is meant to be all caps..." Xander
exclaimed, "Are they that serious?"
"I should say so..." the vampire said, "Anyone who lives over a
hundred knows about them. Pretty much, the main rule is not to tick them off.
IE, don't kill one of them. Members have a magical talent, not to mention
the... well, just avoid them... Especially the LaVelles. They're the most
powerful of the Three."
"Three?"
"Yeah, Three. The LaVelles, the Brondstaffs, and the Kumaris, though the
Kumaris only have one surviving member..."
"Brondstaffs?"
"Yes. Don't like the LaVelles at all. In fact, as I recall hearing, the
Brondstaff's necromancer is heading into Sunnydale. Heard he wants to try his
luck against the Slayer..."
"You don't sound very concerned..." Xander said.
"She can handle it..." Angel said with a shrug in his voice,
"Besides, she's not his main focus. He's there to see the LaVelle
necromancer, who's supposed to be on the Hellmouth. Wants to kill him."
"Reeeealy?" Xander asked slowly, a pit forming in his stomach.
"Yeah, I don't..." Angel stopped for a moment, "Xander? Wait a
minute, if you aren't in trouble with the LaVelles, what made you ask about all
this?"
"Well, uh.." the young man stammered, not wanting to let on.
"Oh god...Xander, are you a LaVelle?" Angel sounded very surprised,
not to mention worried.
"Yeah, Deadboy," Xander replied, beginning to pull the phone away,
"And I got the third generation mother load!"
Before Angel could respond, Xander hung up the phone. Meanwhile, in LA, Angel
put down the phone in shock, then went over to the bookcase. He pulled out a
book, then skimmed through till he found what he was looking for. He read
carefully, and then put the book down.
"Angel?" Cordelia asked, concerned.
Then Angel did the closest thing to a yelp he'd ever done. Part joy and part
terror...
*
Back in Sunnydale, Xander began to go over things in
his mind. Someone, another necromancer, with full experience, was coming to
kill him. Oh crap...
He began to walk back to his car, his case dragging behind him, when he saw, or
rather, felt, a large group of vampires attacking someone. And in the center of
the group, fighting for all she was worth, was a blinding sun to his magical
senses. The slayer. Buffy.
Xander threw up a ball of flame to get a better view and draw attention. The vampires
all turned towards him as he made a complex symbol in the air, then touched his
fingers to his heart.
As he did, he began to run towards the vamps, only dropping his case when he
started to fight. And his fighting was amazing. He went faster than any eye
could see, staking vamps left and right. Buffy watched in amazement. He killed
all of them but one, and then went over to the girl who had been attacked.
There, he made another strange hand sign, mumbled something strange, then
touched her heart.
The body which had looked near death, suddenly breathed in, and Xander turned
to the remaining vamp and grabbed him close. Putting every ounce of power he
had left, Xander commanded the vamp.
"Take her to the hospital, then stake yourself..."
The vamp nodded reluctantly, and took the extra stake Xander handed it.
"Yes sir."
The vamp, to Buffy's shock, did as Xander commanded, and picked up the girl.
Xander looked at Buffy and looked as if he was going to try to explain all the
weird crap he had just pulled, but he collapsed before he could.
As he fell, the large blue flame went out, leaving Buffy in the dark truly and
figuratively.
*
"Giles!"
The Slayer's shrill cry cut straight through the
Watcher's door and right into his ears. Though he had been half-asleep at the
time with his head wedged in a book, he immediately jumped up and opened the
door.
The sight the greeted him as the door swung open was
rather surprising, though considering they were on the Hellmouth, it shouldn't
have been. Buffy was carrying Xander, who was knocked out. She looked tired and
worried, and obviously had held the boy up for a decent amount of time. In one
of her hands she gripped the handle of a large ebony case, which she had
obviously been dragging as well.
Giles, after recovering from the shock, stopped over
and took the boy off of the Slayer's shoulders. Buffy sighed in relief, then
walked in, bringing the case in with her. Giles, now weighed down, walked in
right after.
The Watcher placed Xander on the couch, the still form
ungracefully covering the couch. Then he sat down in a chair across from Buffy.
He could see now just how tired she was. Tired and upset. She probably had a
reason to be so, and Giles was concerned. He wondered if she had finally met up
with the man in her dreams. So he asked.
"No, Giles, nothing like that" the Slayer
said, waving his concern aside, "But, Giles, I just saw something really
weird. You see, I was walking home when I saw this vampire attack a girl. I
went in, but as we started to fight, a whole bunch of vampires jumped out. I
was about to grab the girl and run, but then I see this odd light. All the
vamps turned toward it, and before I can even think, Xander is running towards
us."
She paused for a moment, as if wondering if Giles
would believe this part.
"I've never seen anyone move like that, Giles. He
was so fast. In less than a minute, he had staked everyone one of them, except
this one. Then he did something really weird. He went over to the girl, who I
thought for sure was a goner. He made these creepy symbols in the air, mumbled
something, then pressed his fingers to the girl's chest. The second he touched
her, I saw her breath...
"Then he grabbed the last vamp and commanded,
COMMANDED the vamp to take the girl to the hospital, then to stake itself.
Xander even gave him a stake."
"And?"
"The vamp took the stake, said 'yes sir' then
picked up the girl and ran off. I don't know how, Giles, but I know that that
vamp was doing what Xander told him to... Then he turns to me, as if to
explain, and faints dead out. As he hit the ground, the light went out. So I
grabbed him, and this case he had with him, and dragged him here."
Giles stared blankly at his charge for a moment, then
got up and walked to the bookshelf. He searched the shelves until he found the
book he wanted the returned to his desk to look up whatever he wanted to look
up. After skimming for a second, he stopped, read one passage over again, then
nodded to himself.
"What?"
"It seems that Xander is a bit more knowledgeable
than we thought. If what I read is right, he performed a binding spell on the
young woman, effectively binding her soul to her body in order to keep her
alive. As long as the soul is bound to the body like that, it can't die, no
matter what the damage. There is still a chance for the body to be fixed as
long as the soul is still within it. Also, if the soul is bound, it is
impossible to become a vampire because the demon has no place to
inhabit..."
"Okay...But Giles, if you know what he did, why
do you still look worried?"
"Because" the Watcher explained,
"binding spells are high level spells, one a normal novice shouldn't be
able to do, let alone survive. And if it didn't kill him, it should have
knocked him out for a day or so..."
"Giles?" Buffy replied, pointing to Xander's
sleeping form, "He is out..."
"Yes," the Watcher responded, "however,
at the rate he is regenerating his energy, he should be up within the hour. I
mean, I am aware that the boy has always had an amazingly strong and powerful
aura, however this shouldn't be possible..."
"Why not?" Buffy asked, her voice showing
her concern.
"Because, if I'm right, he not only performed a
binding spell, but a compulsion spell, a fire spell, and a transference spell.
All at once. I'm surprised he isn't dead."
"Oh"
"He should be asleep for a week after that, maybe
more, yet he'll be up in a few moments. Amazing..."
"Weird..."
"Yes, but amazing all the same..." Giles
said.
"Do you think I should call the gang?" the
Slayer asked, beginning to make her way to the kitchen phone. Giles stared at
her blankly for a moment, then nodded.
"What are you, Xander Harris?" Giles asked
himself under his breath, "What are you? How are you able to do what you
did? Why did you do it?"
Giles continued to stare at the young man, and as he
did, he realized something. He hadn't set the boy down very comfortably. In
fact, if the Watcher didn't move him, Xander would probably wake up with the
worst backache he had ever had. So, sighing tiredly, Giles picked him up and
carefully laid him out on the couch. But as he did, a small book slipped out of
the boy's back pocket and knocked Giles' shoe.
"What on earth is this?" The Watcher asked
himself.
"What is what?" Buffy inquired, walking over
to where Giles was looking at the little leather bound book, "By the way,
they'll be here in a few minutes..."
"Good...good..." Giles said, distracted, as
he opened the mysterious thing. The librarian read for a moment, then closed
the book. Then he got a puzzled look on his face and opened the book again.
Smiling in a rather satisfied way, the Watcher again shut the book, only to
regain that nonplussed expression.
"What is it, Giles?" the Slayer asked,
obviously concerned.
"I can't remember a thing!"
"You have amnesia?"
"No..." Giles said tiredly, "I can't
remember anything the second I close the book. I read it, and then, when my
eyes leave the page, I completely forget what I read! It could be talking about
fuzzy pink slippers for all I know!"
Buffy eyed her Watcher, then held out her hand.
"Here, let me try. Maybe I'll be able to remember, being the Slayer and
all..."
Giles looked skeptical, but he nonetheless handed over
the little book to her. Smiling to herself, Buffy opened the book and read, and
then closed it. Her mouth opened as if to speak, then shut abruptly. She
repeated this a few times, and then threw the book back to Giles.
Before either of them could think about what the book
could be, the doorbell rang. Buffy, eager to get out of the lecture on pride
she knew she was going to get from her Watcher, immediately jumped to the door,
and opened it.
Outside, Anya, Willow, Tara, and Riley waited
impatiently, all very worried. The second they had gotten the call, Willow had
started tittering anxiously. The redheaded witch had asked her friend around
seven times if she thought Xander was okay, to which Tara had shrugged. It
wasn't that Tara didn't care about Xander; she thought he was really nice. But
she had no idea what was going on. Anya was flipping out on levels that they
hadn't made words for yet, and kept bouncing around. Riley, on the other hand, was
simply stiff. He had his own suspicions about what had happened to Xander, but
was willing to wait before he made any conclusions.
Buffy let them in immediately, and everyone took their
seats. Anya looked about to jump on Xander, but the Slayer held her back so
that the young man would be able to breath when he woke up. No one spoke. Buffy
had told them all she knew over the phone, so all they could do was wait for
Xander to wake up and explain everything.
They didn't wait long. Within a few minutes, a small
groan was heard from the mass on the couch, then one of the boy's hands went to
his forehead. The other hand pushed him up into a sitting position, and all
watched to see what was going on.
"Oh man..." Xander moaned, "I won't be
doing that again any time soon..." The boy then put both hands to his
temples and began to rub. It took him a moment, but he finally realized that
the hat he was wearing was impeding his attempt to dull the pain, and promptly
took it off.
"Xander, I agree that you won't be doing anything
like that again for a while..." the Watcher began, "But we'd like to
know just how you did it in the first place..."
Xander took a second away from dwelling on his pain to
look at Giles confusedly, "I just did..."
"Yes, Xander..." Giles answered patiently,
"We understand you did, but we were all wondering how you did it,
considering you performed four spells at the same time, two of which were high
level spells..."
Xander shook his head to clear it, then looked at the
assembled group. "What are all of you doing here? And where's my
trunk?"
"We were worried about you..." Willow
answered quietly, "Buffy called us and told us what happened, and that you
were asleep, and we all came over to see how you were..."
"And your trunk is in the corner over there."
The Slayer told him, pointing it out, "Now explain!"
"Don't get nasty with me, Buffster..."
Xander replied, getting aggravated as his headache got worse, "I've had a
tough few days, all right?"
"Fine, but please, explain to all of us exactly
how you did it..." Giles prodded.
"I said the words, did the gestures, and it
happened..." Xander answered angrily, "That's how I did it. What, you
don't think that Xander, dumb, normal Xander, can do anything right?"
"I did say that. I was just-"
"You didn't say it, but that's what you
meant!" Xander cried furiously, "And how come you all don't give a
crap about me until I do something weird? Do you have to be able to levitate a
pencil or something to be a part of the Scooby Gang now!?"
"Not at all, Xander...I don't know why-"
"You know why!" the young man yelled
heatedly, "You guys have forgotten all about me until now. You were all so
concerned about your own damned lives, your college, your slaying, your
witchcraft! You never cared what happened to me!"
"Yes, we-"
"No, you didn't..." Anya said, interrupting
Buffy's defense of the group, "You really didn't. Xander is right. You've
ignored him, and kept him out of the loop trying to keep him safe, and you
forgot all about the fact that it's his choice!"
"Thank you..." Xander said, walking over to
his girlfriend and hugging her tight, "Thank you for never forgetting
me..."
The room went silent as they stood there hugging, so
much so that Anya disengaged from Xander and asked "What's up with you
people?"
Willow didn't have the words to speak, but instead
pointed to Xander's temple. Anya looked to where the redheaded witch was
pointing, and promptly fainted.
"Anya?" Xander cried, going on his knee to
check his girlfriend, "What's so..."
He realized where everyone was looking, then realized
that he was no longer wearing his hat.
"Oh crap..."
*
"Told you so..." came a murmur from Riley.
"Don't even!" The Slayer yelled at her
boyfriend. Then she turned back to Xander. "And you! Why didn't you tell
us anything! We've been going mad trying to find the necromancer!"
"I didn't tell you..." Xander said, rolling
his eyes, "Because I didn't know..."
"What do you mean, you didn't know?" Buffy
exclaimed, "How do you not know that you can raise the dead?"
"How did you not know you were the Slayer, way
back in your LA years?" Xander answered with a sneer, "Same way I
didn't know about what I could do...No one told me."
"But you have known for a while..." the
Slayer accused, "Otherwise, how would you have known how to do what you
did in that alley?"
"Buffster, I found out two days ago, all
right?" He replied tiredly, "And since then, I've been studying...besides,
it's been a rough two days..."
"What happened, Xander?" Willow asked.
"Well, I found out about a family I never knew I
had, then my father tried to apologize earlier today..." Xander responded.
"Family?" Willow asked, "But you see
your mother's family all the time, and your fathers...well, I thought you said
they were all dead other than your Aunt Myrtle."
"No..." Xander replied, his voice slightly
bitter, "Dad lied. They're not dead. They're just...well, odd."
"Odd?" Giles asked, wondering what in the
world the boy would consider odd when he lived on the Hellmouth.
"Let me ask you this, G-man," Xander
answered as he turned to the Watcher, "Have you ever heard of a family by
the name of 'LaVelle'?"
Giles stared at Xander for a moment, then shook his
head to clear it. "O-Of course I have! They are the most power of the
Three Families..."
"Three Families?" asked the Slayer,
completely lost.
"Yes..." The Watcher replied, taking off his
glasses to clean them, "Three Families of Majik. The Kumaris, the Brondstaffs,
and the LaVelles, the LaVelles being the strongest and most feared."
"Yes, but what do you mean by families of
majik?" Willow asked.
"Every member has a specialty..." Tara
explained before Giles could, "They...they operate similar to the mafia...they're
really dangerous if you hurt one of them. I've read about two of them in one of
my books, and my mother supposedly knew one, but I don't know much..."
"Which two?"
"The LaVelles are the ones mentioned the most,
followed by the Brondstaffs. I've never heard of that other one..."
"Probably because they are almost gone..."
Giles clarified, "The Kumaris have only one surviving member, as of now,
and he is a rather weak young man."
"But" Buffy said, walking over to where
Xander was, "What does that have to do with you?"
Xander chuckled under his breath, then looked at
Willow, whose face had gone white. "Almost four years now, and you don't
even know my middle name. Nice to know I have friends..."
"What does your middle name have to do with
anything?" Giles asked, sounding defensive.
"It's what should be my last name, if my father
hadn't tried to forget his family when he got married." Xander explained,
"I'm Alexander LaVelle Harris..."
"You're one of these people?" Riley asked,
breaking his silence.
"Yeah, I'm a LaVelle...and so is the guy who runs
that magick shop you girls like so much..." Xander explained as he walked
back over to where his girlfriend was sprawled on the floor, "He's my
Uncle Gerard."
"Oh dear." Willow whimpered.
"Don't get upset, Willow..." he told his
best friend as he picked up Anya, "He's a really great guy..."
"So, going back to the point," Buffy
interrupted, "Xander, you're the necromancer, and there's another one
coming to Sunnydale."
"Tell me something I don't know..." the
young man replied as he placed Anya on to the couch that he himself had been on
only a few minutes ago, "And the guy coming here is a Brondstaff out for
my blood...yours too."
"You sound awful confident..." Riley said
with a small snicker.
"That would be an act, commando boy..."
Xander retorted, just as rudely, "You're familiar with that sort of thing,
aren't you?"
"Hey, hey..." Willow yelled, getting up and
going between the two young men, "We have an evil necromancer coming to
town who wants to kill two of us! Let's not do his job for him!"
"Willow's right..." Giles said, rubbing his
temples, "We can't fight amongst ourselves...we need to plan."
"What's there to plan?" Xander asked,
sitting down beside Anya, "We go, we kick his ass, we come home, that's
it!"
"Xander...could you do me a favor?" Giles
asked tiredly.
"Yeah?"
"Make a ball of deadfire? Just a small
one..."
"Sure..." the young man replied as he raised
his hand to eye level. He stared at it for a second, muttered something, then a
ball of very dark blue fire floated just above his hand.
"Xander?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you see that ball of deadfire there?"
The Watcher asked.
"Yeah..."
"That, with a single touch, could knock any one
of us out for a week, even at that size..." Giles told them all
despairingly, "Now think of what a person with more experience could do to
us with that sort of power..."
"Oh."
"But I thought you said Xander's family was the
strongest." Buffy put in, "I mean, Xander's probably got more power
in his little...thing...than that other dude..."
"Yes, Buffy, you are probably right..."
Giles admitted, "But power is nothing if you don't know how to use
it."
"But what about-"
The Slayer was interrupted by the sound of Giles'
window breaking, and the cause of it landed at their feet a moment later.
Xander quickly picked up the brick, then took off the note that had been
attached to it.
"'Dearest Enemies,'" he read out loud with
dread, "'My name, as you have no doubt found, is Brondstaff. Nigel
Brondstaff. And just as you have found out my name, I am sure you are aware of
the purpose of my visit to your fine hamlet of Sunnydale. I am here, quite
frankly, to kill the LaVelle boy, or rather to challenge him, though it's
really the same thing said differently. I know the boy is completely lost. He
has no training, and has only recently discovered his powers, but I will
challenge him to a formal duel nonetheless. The stakes are these. If I win, he
will die, and I will kill the Slayer and her friends. If, in the unlikely
event, he wins, I will most likely be dead, and if not, I will leave and never
bother you again. Don't try anything funny. We will meet in the warehouse that
stands in the southernmost area of this town tomorrow night at approximately
7:00 PM. Alone, as it should be. Till then, Nigel...' Well, somebody has a bad
case of being-an-overconfident-asshole syndrome..."
"I wouldn't say that exactly, Xander..."
came a worried voice from the couch. Everyone turned around to see Anya sitting
up, staring at her boyfriend. "I know the power a necromancer holds, and
in a fair fight, he will kill you..."
"Then we need to make it an unfair fight..."
Buffy said forcefully, "Giles, we need a plan."
The Watcher rolled his eyes. "That was what I was
saying before..." he sighed, "now, Xander, you will meet him as he
has said, except not alone, at least not truly alone. Buffy and Riley will
follow you and take up positions near the top windows. Each of you will bring a
crossbow and a tazer, and when he least expects it, you will distract him just
enough for Xander to win..."
"Good plan." Xander said, "but he'll
sense them if they set up too early. We need a word for me to shout for when
they should go up to the windows..."
"How about 'bastard'?" Anya suggested,
"He won't be surprised if you insult him..."
"Okay okay..." Xander agreed, nodding,
"But in the meantime, I had better start studying so I have a
chance..."
At this, Xander reached behind him to pull something
from his back pocket, but when he found nothing, his eyes went wide.
"Where's my-"
"Here, Xander..." Giles answered, handing
him the small leather book, "We found it earlier while you were still
out..."
"Thanks guys..." the boy said as he took the
book, "And...I'm sorry for getting you all into this mess..."
"Not your fault..." Buffy told him, patting
him on the shoulder, "And we're the ones who should be sorry. We were
putting you aside, and-"
"No hard feelings, all right Buffster?"
Xander said, giving her a crooked smile.
"None..."
"Then I had better get to work..."
END PART 13