Summary: Xander is raised by... someone else.
Crossover: I'll tell if someone guesses. Either that, or when I feel like it.
Disclaimer: I dun' own cr@p!
Feedback: "It's the coin of the realm" - Tenhawk.
* * *
*BANG!*
Xander stood there, panting, gun held in both hands and starting to fall towards the floor.
The seven year old looked down at the corpse, and started to laugh.
"Just like that..."
The trigger had been strangely easy to pull.
"No more beatings..."
Tomorrow would be different.
"All the pain..."
Just one shot had killed that bastard who'd had the nerve to call himself his father.
He emptied the rest of the gun's loaded ammo into the corpse.
* * *
Chapel heard the bang, as he rode through the small neighbourhood. The houses gave the impression of beatings, and black eyes, rather than dead bodies. He decided to check it out. Chapel left his 'bike and his luggage on it at the side of the road.
The house was on the verge of falling down, the front door open. He heard a television playing as he slowly moved through the house, wary of the person who had fired. There was a few pictures on the wall, all faded to the same grey shade as the wallpaper. The carpet was drab, matching the grey ceiling.
He found a boy, no more than seven years old, standing over a dead older man. The boy was panting, a curl of smoke rising from the handgun he held in his hands. A look of joy was on his youthful face. Slowly the boy registered that Chapel was there.
"Who... who're you?," the boy asked. He didn't bother to raise the handgun; he'd already used up all the ammo killing his father.
"Chapel the Evergreen," Chapel replied. A thought struck him; he needed a sucessor... "How would you like to learn from me, boy?"
"Don't call me boy," the boy grumbled. "My name is Xander. Alexander LaVelle Harris."
Chapel made a mental note not to call 'Xander' boy. "Hello, Xander. Do you want to learn from me? Make your choice now."
Xander nodded.
"Yes."
* * *
Post-Fic Comments:
Anyone care to guess what this is crossed with?