Turning and Burning Chapter 6

[tigerstriped86.livejournal.com]

 Title: Turning and Burning, Chapter 6
Author: tigerstriped86
Fandom/Pairing: BtVS, Xan/Giles (friendship)
Prompt 102: Thus Spoke Zarathustra (Proof that someone is evil or a genius.  Or an evil genius)

Summary: Xander and childe return to Sunnydale.  And the G-man knows all.  Does the Zeppo really have it all under control?
Disc.: I am not Dark Horse, Mutant Enemy, any of various actors/writers, or Joss Whedon.  *Goes off in corner to cry*
Rating: PG-13 (Because Giles wiped his glasses when I wanted to make it R)

"Oh God, Xander...."  Giles groaned with the weight of his words.
 

“God has nothing to do with it. God is dead.”

“You can't just say that!” Giles' hand pounded the kitchen table. Xander jumped at the emotion that Giles quickly reigned in again. “I mean, after everything you thought about Angel.”

“I was a kid back then. Hell, G-Man, weren't we all? But think about it. I've got a chance. I've got a future.”

“Justify this all you want, but if you hurt the girls....”

“I'd never hurt them. How could you even imply that?”

“You've opened up a can of worms that no one can control.”

“Just don't tell them. Not yet.”

“You can't hide it for long.”

“I know.” Xander sighed. Charlie entered as if on cue. He moved swiftly, slightly brushing against Xander's arms. He looked at Giles as he opened the fridge door and removed a frosted gauntlet.

“Are you one of Angel's?”

“The name is Charlie. And am I one of Angel's what?”

“You know, Charlie. One of the childes.” Xander hid the stress under his voice, beneath his teeth.

“Oh yes. Well that. I won't interrupt you gentlemen any longer. But, if I may, the ladies in the parlor are getting a bit anxious as to where you've gone.”

“Thanks Charlie.”

“Don't mention it.”

“Xander, you didn't.”

“So what if I did? And don't call me Xander. That's the old me. That's the Zeppo, the one who makes mistakes.”

“We all make mistakes. That's why we came here looking for you. Angel told us you were subletting the mansion while he got his affairs in order in LA. Good Lord, Xander, you sent the man to hell!”

“He was a vampire then.” Xander didn't correct him on the reasons behind his action. At the time, the wise watcher had agreed with him, although not motive wise. Truthfully, Giles thought someone who saw things in such terms was a danger, a fanatic in some ways. His opinion of the boy had been shifting. Now he wasn't sure what to think.

“And what would you do now if you could fix it?”

“Oh no. We're not going through that line of reasoning.”

“I'm afraid we may have to. If you've named...”

“Named what? Xander, where did you go?” Willow walked in casually, cocked her head at Xander and then smiled as he picked up Giles' tea mug.

“Xander was just telling me about the puppy he got in LA.”

“Fun! You'd best have Angel bring it down every once in awhile. I'm not sure he could take care of a puppy very long.” She smiled warmly and then moved back to confirm to Buffy that Giles and Xander had been talking. Giles had always been very good for Xander and she was happy they were being civil.

“Don't make me lie for you forever.”

“I won't, Giles. Once I have everything figure out...”

“But you've chosen this. Don't regret it.”

“It wouldn't matter if I did. I belong to the Order now. There is some responsibility there. It'll be good for me.”

“I hope you're right. I sincerely hope you know what you're doing.”

“Don't worry about me Giles.” He flashed a goofy grin that caused the Watcher to sigh and grapple with cleaning his glasses for a moment. “I'm Xander Harris, King of the Cretins. Everything will be fine.” Famous last words, Xander thought.

He had returned one last time to see it. The old apartment lay at the end of the hallway. The white didn't seem as bright as it had before. Old wasn't an adjective Xander would have used in the time when he'd been with Anya. She had loved the place and all it stood for. She had babbled about humanity and babies and television for hours on end. Xander had just watched her nose wrinkle as she talked and tried to steer the conversation towards sex on their newly-rented couch and in their newly-tiled kitchen. He had used the term christening.

Xander had gone back alone, sending Charlie along to the mansion. He had a place there. He had already decided that he'd be the head of the Order until Angel returned, with Spike. Technically, he paced himself in his mind, he'd be the head representative. But the mark of Angel was good enough for most on the Hellmouth, including the Slayer.

As he made his way toward the door his mouth went dry at the thought of Buffy and Willow. They had left him alone all this time. Not a message, not a locating spell, nothing. They were bound to be worried or worse, give him the silent treatment. He dreaded the coldness, but in some way welcomed it. To find his own place on this impenatrable rock of evil, he concluded, might not be so bad. I must be getting older if badass is starting to look like an option. He wondered how he'd look in an eyepatch as Snake Plissken next Halloween.

Xander smirked as he felt the chunky click of his old key in the door. It still worked. A musty smell greeted our dark hero as he crossed the threshhold, barely noticing the place where his father had fallen into the nail. Well, at least, according to the coroners report. Xander had a convincing argument once he'd shown the autopsy head his bruises over a divey dinner. He wouldn't mention the sex, although he'd call on that person again. They had a bit of an overactive imagination.

The place was barren and clean. Everything had been boxed up. The scent of orchids and lilles hung in the air. The classic scents of the Slayer and her two witch companions. And a third scent. But the first two were enough for Xander. They had always been, well, slightly overwhelming. He didn't cry but stoicly took account of each room, dreading the day when he asked where everything was stored. He'd have to be invited, no doubt, but it was that third scent he dreaded. As he passed the place where his X-wing used to hang, notice the dust, he shuddered ever so slightly.

The pulse of the ground felt good beneath his feet as he marched forth in the night. No longer the court jester for Queen Buffy, he stepped slower and raised his cheekbones against the invisible cold. As a vampire, he could sense the power eminating from certain points, beckoning him. The hellmouth was inviting him into its sensuality and the only thought that kept him from giving in was of his girls. To be on the side they were not was unthinkable. Sure, he had a new code of conduct, but he'd never hurt his girls. At least, Xander sighed, he never wanted to make that choice.

The door to the mansion swung open and he was assaulted with their scent. He was able to mask his vampiric face in the split second he saw Buffy's leg waiting for him in the parlour. There was jumping and babbling, smiles and painfully concealed questions all around. The girls didn't ask and Xander didn't offer any excuses. He thought of his childe, somewhere in the mansion. He was worried, but knew he couldn't hide forever. This one night would be enough. He left for the kitchen. And there was Giles, brewing a pot of tea. That's how the entire conversation had begun.