tamingthemuse | Turning and Burning, Chapter 7

Title: Turning and Burning, Chapter 7
Author: tigerstriped86
Fandom/Pairing: BtVS, Xander/OCs (this chapter), X/A (as always!)
Rating: PG-13 (for mentions of things to come in the next chapter...oooh, I'm good.)

Prompt: 103- Temptation
Summary: Xander decides that it's time to hold the first meeting of the Order since Buffy came to Sunnydale. The results are both epic and so completely Xander.
Disc.: As I've stated many times, I am in no way infringing anyone's rights nor taking money for these stories. I could not nor would I ever claim to be the hottest man on the planet (David Boreanaz, if you are wondering), Joss Whedon, or anyone of that nature. Is that clear enough, yes? Also, this is AU from S4. It's not as good as the Kin of Heart series, but I think it fairs pretty well on its own. It's different, to say the least.

Link to the full scheme of things: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4237605/1/Turning_and_Burning

There's nothing like coming home to a clean house, Xander thought. His steps were purposed as his heels fell lightly in rhythm with the echoing cool marble of the downstairs landing.

“Charlie! We're going to have company tonight!” He called in a raucous manner, his hands cupped to his lips, his fangs grinning greedily. Charlie seemed to float to the banister, observing Xander in a state of positive glee.

“What is so special about this company?” He smiled, playing along.

Xander rubbed his hands together. “Oh, you shall see. I have a very special event planned. But first I need something from Angel's old room.”

This idea in his mind had evolved ever since thinking of calling the small chapter of the Order together. The Order was the oldest, the largest, the best run order of all the vampires. Tanaka demons served them well, except for at the Hell mouth. Tanaka demons were too efficient and cruel to be allowed near a hell mouth. No sense in having an uprising.

Membership was rumored to be on the rise. Angel and Spike had nearly god-like status all along the western seaboard. The east remembered hints of Liam and William. Most of the Order had fled to Canada after a certain incident involving several luxury liners and a skyscraper that Xander was sure wasn't even possible from a normal demonic standard. He'd ask Angel when he returned.

For a moment, his face fell. He noticed, as he studied himself with his fingers, that wrinkles formed beneath his eyes. They weren't the happy creases he remembered. Joviality was the price he paid and now it seemed to mock him. An invisible breeze moved through the mansion, reminding Xander of that night, that forbidden night. He had sat at this very table and there had been candles. He shook himself as the wind caressed the back of his neck.

It was a gift not to see yourself when you woke at two in the afternoon screaming silently, pleading for an ending to your own invented rotting luck. But Xander was nothing if resilient, he supposed. Especially after spending four hours going through old reels at the library to acquaint himself with various older faces in the town, often who had prodigies in the Order. There was an involved elaborate ceremony for tonight, several parts of which required his famous resiliency.

First would come the posturing.

Then the denial and the rage would follow.

Bargaining and lessons enacted would be remembered.

Finally, sweet surrender.

The King of Cretins was moving up in death. Damn it if he wasn't ready. Xander's fist pounded the table in mock rage as he lifted himself gently, practicing the way his feet and arms moved in Spike's old wheelchair. It had been ages ago that Spike had been bound to this chair. The wheels whined beneath him, the chair befitting rebellion to its very core. All this will be worth it, Xander muttered as he rolled forth, teeth chattering and grimacing all the while.

There were twenty spectators gathered about, Charlie swooping around and refilling champagne goblets through the clusters of assembled guests. Guests, however, in the loosest sense of the term. The lost reflections of men gleamed against the wheelchair as Xander silently rolled by. Their gazed shifted in his direction, one or two at a time. It was a silent gaze, cold and guessing. Xander rolled himself in the library, trying to suppress his chuckle at the assortment of severe beatnik and jock combinations that had infiltrated the ranks of the Order. It's time to take control back from your guilt vacation Angel love, Xander thought. He couldn't suppress the bitter laughter anymore and a quiet bark escaped his lips.

“Gentlemen,” he wheeled towards the crowd and spoke firmly with quiet disdain for most, “and I use that term loosely, welcome to Angel's mansion. Most of you, I venture to guess, have never set foot in this house. That is an oversight we correct as of tonight. Of course, I do notice quite a few missing. That is regrettable. As they will find out.”

“You know every person in this little consortium, then?” A pale man wearing a suit with slicked hair took the measure of Xander dubiously.

“I'd be a fool not too. Which is why I am aware, Mr. Dalthers, that you are here. Curiosity got the best of you?”

“You haven't killed Angelus have you?”

“And why would I do a thing like that?”

“That beloved soul of his.” Dalthers sneered through his angular nose and Xander gripped the wheels tighter.

“Of course, you do have a point.” Xander wheeled around the rouges gallery once for effect. “The management does seem to be shot all to hell since the delivery of said soul. Maybe we should complain to the owner of the company.” A few nervous laughs echoed, hovering in the hall, near the doorway.

“By this time tomorrow, they'll be dead, won't they?”

“Wisdom and curiosity are two things I value. Just not too much wisdom and curiosity. You will learn this in time.” Xander rolled forward, as though he wished to converse with Mr. Dalthers knee. “There are a lot of things you will learn in time.”

Mr. Dalthers moved back a bit uncomfortably, aware that there was something not quite natural about Xander in a wheelchair. Xander made a mental note about the head banker at the First National and signaled a blink to Charlie, who disappeared deftly and made a short list of appointments with Mr. Dalthers name at the top. He commuted between Sunnydale, Oakland, and various smaller communities running banks. But somehow, Xander and Charlie were both sure, he'd find time for the Order. Even at the apocalypse, people still wanted to make sure money was safe. Come hell or high water.

Xander threatened a chuckle in his voice which became a low growl as a thick-necked, crew cut reject from the Devil's Own spoke up. “And just why should we trust you? You used to be that nerdy kid at school I almost punted around if it hadn't have been for Cordelia.”

Xander spun quickly towards his knee, making sure most were in optimal range. “Quite right, Butch. Oh, surprised I know your name? You shouldn't be. But you do raise a good question. Why should you trust me? Why should you assume I know how to take care of you? How is Eldridge any better at running things then Angel? In some cases, I'm not. But trust me on one little thing...”

Xander jumped from the chair in a flash, faster almost than Charlie could return from finishing his note. The dagger was in his hand, Xander's eyes flashing as he held Butch against it, leaning on the stairs for support. His visage had changed and he snarled very low. “Guess you shouldn't be tempted to believe everything you see. Now say goodnight Butch.” The slice was very clean. The dust scattering in the wind across the floor was not.

Xander stood at the top of the steps, his secret exposed. “That is reason number one you should trust me. Now, you have any problems, gossip, can't get food? Well, don't come god-damned running to me for every little thing. You're a vampire, start acting like one. Yes, I still side with the Slayer. But don't be stupid.”

Xander waltzed about the stunned crowd as he continued, stopping at a goatee laden beatnik who seemed to be leaning against a painting for support. “What do you think Elvin?”

Elvin tried forming one word and then another until he gave up and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. “I think you'll teach us.”

“Correct. You win a prize. Only one lashing for speaking out of turn. Charlie?” Charlie was behind the surprised man, dragging him into a back room to be tied and waiting for Xander. “Any other thoughts?”

“Let me be clear on a couple of things.” Xander leaped towards the top of the stairs, asserting himself and billowing out his chest with a couple of hand flourishes for style. “One is that this is not a new day, this is just a little house cleaning for Angel while he's in Los Angeles beginning a new chapter. This is your only warning. This is your only chance. Seven sharp next week, same day. Every member of the order from the lowliest new fledge to whomever your brain denotes as the highest ranking peon in the pantheon will be here. Or you will pay the price.”

He savored the words with glee as he thought of the very cute goatee vampire waiting for him in very heavy rope or leather. He'd let Charlie decide that. “Meeting adjourned.”