* * Chapter 14 * *
It was nearly two in the morning when Xander arrived home. He'd spent a lovely time at the Summers' home, watching movies and eating cookies, but he needed some time to think. He quietly eased through the front door, hoping both parental units were out cold for the night. This night had been ... surreal ... to say the least and he was still trying to assimulate everything that had happened. The last thing he needed was to listen to their drunken fighting and oh, so loving advice and criticism.
"Boy! Get yer lazy ass in here!" the slurred voice produced an irritated annoyance rather than the normal dread.
"Yes, sir?" He managed to keep the contempt from his voice – he was tired and didn't want to have to dodge a beating tonight. Entering the kitchen, he felt his hackles rise. Both his parents sat at the table, glaring blearily up at him – smug satisfaction clear in his father's eyes, indifference in his mother's. Two men, nearly the same height, dark hair, dark eyes, and in identical looking dark gray business suits stood on either side of his parents like bookends. He mentally labeled them 'Frick' and 'Frack'. They stood in deceptively easy postures, but were perfectly balanced, ready for anything – Buffy used the same stance when she wanted to be underestimated. Bulges under their arms told him they were packing.
He stepped back, only to bump into a warm solid mass. Craning his neck upward, he spotted a third man who stared down at him with a neutral expression, and neatly blocked the exit. He had to be about six nine, built like a line-backer, and had ginger brown hair, so Xander labeled him 'Ludo.' The man nudged him further into the kitchen, ushering him politely, but firmly, to a chair. Xander could feel his heart race, but kept his face carefully blank. 'Oh, this can not be of the good.'
"What the hell you dressed like that for, you freak?" Anthony sneered, staring at the ears and the stripes in the boy's hair.
"It's Halloween." Though not said, the 'you moron' was clearly implied. Tony didn't notice, but the suits did. 'Frick' smirked disdainfully at the two lushes. "As much as I enjoy impromptu tea parties, I'd really like to call it a night."
Ignoring his son, Tony turned to 'Ludo,' who Xander assumed must be the one in charge. "Well?"
As 'Ludo' assessed the boy, running an appraising eye over his form, Xander narrowed his own gaze, not at all enjoying feeling like a hunk of meat. "Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer!" he angrily retorted.
'Ludo' smiled. "He'll do. Consider your debt paid." He motioned to 'Frack' who came forward to pull the teen from his chair.
With what amounted to a manic grin, Xander shoved his chair back and down. It hit the floor with a bone jarring thud and he somersaulted backwards away from the table and the two closest goons. Crouched low, he dashed out of the kitchen and through the living room, heading for the door. Shouting followed, the three men recovering from the shock of his unexpected move. Obviously, Tony had not said anything that would have warned them of any skills he might have.
Quickly working the chain and bolt, he flung the door open just as 'Frick' reached him. The man tried to grab his arm, but Xander jerked away. Off balance, he was in no position to avoid 'Frick' as the man tackled him. They tumbled out the door and off the stoop. Xander saw stars as his head cracked painfully against the concrete sidewalk. Disoriented and dizzy, he couldn't stop the man from flipping him over and snapping handcuffs around his wrists.
"Damn, kid. Got some moves on you. But Mr. Frocetti'll soon teach ya some respect." He yanked the teen to his knees.
Xander shook his head to clear it, only to make the dizziness worse. Concussion. "Doubt it."
"We'll see." The man turned, readying himself to lift the kid to his feet, when a dark blur collided with him, sending the thug to the ground.
A wide grin crossed Xander's face even as his vision darkened as he heard, "No one 'urts my kitten." The man gave a gurgled scream – slit throat by the sound of it.
Xander started to sway on his knees, balance shot, only to be caught around the shoulder by a strong arm before he fell. "Hey, Dru," he whispered.
"Don't worry, kitten. Mummy's here. I'll protect you, I will." Cool lips pressed his forehead in a kiss as he lost consciousness.
* * Chapter 15 * *
Raul Frocetti, unknowingly nicknamed 'Ludo,' clenched his hands in fury. Though not a resident of Sunnydale, he knew about the things that went bump in the night. Too far away to do anything but watch, he growled as the female vampire slashed his bodyguard's throat and took off with his payment. The kid was a good as dead, and more importantly, no longer capable of making him money.
He turned, "Bring them out." His eyes were black and cold.
Tony and Jessica Harris were herded out into the living room and forced to sit on the couch. Frocetti paced in front of them, a fierce look in his eyes. "It appears that you are unable to pay off your debt as you believed, Mr. Harris. What shall we do?"
Unaware of the danger, blinded by drink and anger, Tony rose from his seat, getting into the man's face. "Uh uh. No way. I paid my debt. It ain't my fault you ain't got enough sense to hang on to the little bastard. I ain't got nuthin' else, and you ain't gettin' nuthin' else."
Frocetti shoved the fool back onto the couch and nodded once.
Two suppressed gunshots sounded.
* * Chapter 16 * *
Drucilla snapped the handcuffs off and gently carried her kitten down the street. "What should we do, Miss Edith? The nasty Slayer won't believe we didn't hurt him. We'd never hurt him. The Little Tree is not home. Maybe the Watcher man?" She looked down at Xander frowning at his pallor and slightly labored breathing. "Oh, a clinic. And then tell the Watcher man." She held him closer and picked up her pace – unable to take a shorter route due to the blood scent.
Giles clumsily felt for the phone, the ringing echoing in his head, aggravating his headache. "It bloody well better be an emergency," he growled. The response had him up and out of bed in an instant. "Have you called the police? ... No, don't touch anything. Any sign of him? ... Alright. Come over. I'll try a tracking spell." He threw on some clothes and dug through his trunks looking for the items he needed for the spell, his mind raced. "What have you gotten yourself into this time, lad?" He heard knocking on the door. Preoccupied, he made what could have been a fatal mistake. "Come in, Buffy!"
The door opened, but it wasn't Buffy. "Not very smart, Watcher man."
Blood froze and Giles grasped a stake tightly, fingers turning white. "Drusilla."
She only stood there, not making a move to enter, staring at him solemnly. "You're late. Late. For a very important date. Bad men tried to take my kitten. Tied him up and knocked him out. The stars say his parents arranged it. I took him away and to the hospital. The bad men were angry and took it out on his parents. I'm glad, though I would have loved to wear their entrails as a necklace. Tell my kitten I'll see him later. Goodbye." She turned and disappeared into the night with only a whisper of cloth.
Giles stared in shock at the doorway – a vampire willingly helping an injured human? It was unheard of! He shook himself and grabbed jacket, wallet and keys. When Buffy arrived moments later he hurried her into the car racing for the hospital after a brief explanation.
"Drusilla took Xander to the hospital?" Buffy was incredulous. "Drusilla, the mad vampire, helped Xander?"
"Incredible, I know. But, she is mad. Who knows why she does things? We should be grateful she decided to help." They arrived at the hospital and Giles flagged down a nurse – a new one, by the looks of it, she wore no cross and didn't seem nervous at all working the night shift in Sunnydale. "Excuse me, Miss. A young man was brought in within the past hour or so. Dark eyes, dark hair, seventeen years old?"
Buffy added, "He might have still been in his Halloween costume. A black and gray striped cat?"
The nurse nodded, brow furrowed. "An odd woman brought him in. She kept singing to him and saying the stars wished him well before walking off. The young man has a large gash at the back of his head. He's still unconscious. Do you know who he is? We'll need to contact family."
"His name's Xander Harris. I went by to check on him when he didn't call to say he'd made it home safe and no one answered the phone. The door was open and I found his folks on the living room couch. They'd been shot. They're both dead." Buffy was pale at the recitation. She was used to the evil of demons, but the proof of human evil always threw her for a loop.
The nurse paled as well. "You'll understand that I cannot let you see him until the police have cleared you, right?" She looked relieved at their nods. "If you'll have a seat in the waiting room?"
Hours later, Joyce and Dawn had joined the others in waiting for word on Xander's condition. They'd managed to contact Willow and she was on her way as well, nervously babbling at a hundred miles an hour.
It was nearing noon and Xander had awoken an hour ago, but no one had been allowed to see him. The doctor's wanted to make sure there were no adverse effects to the concussion and from being unconscious for so long. Once given the okay, the police had wanted their turn. Giles had requested, near demanded to be be present, since Xander was a minor – but they had refused.
The Lt. closed his notebook with a sigh and a, hopefully, reassuring smile at the young man. The teen claimed he'd come home and was immediately knocked out. He hadn't seen anyone or anything to help identify the burglar. He figured his folks might have been shot if they'd been drunk and had argued with the thief.
"Thank you, Xander. Leave a contact number when you leave the hospital in case we have any other questions. And, I'm sorry for your loss."
The teen nodded shortly, a sad smile upon his face, "Thank you, sir."
The Lt. walked into the waiting room. "Any of you here for Xander Harris?" Five people stood. "It seems he interrupted a burglary in process. He's awake and the doc should be by shortly to let visitors in. Does he have anyone he can stay with – at least until we can contact any next of kin?"
"He can stay with me. I have an extra room and it'll be a quiet place to heal until his concussion is gone." Giles gave his information to the police officer.
A doctor strode over a half an hour later. "The concussion you knew, but other than some bruises and minor scrapes, he's fine. His concussion means that loud noises, bright lights, or sudden movements are going to be excruciating. He's refused morphine and is only taking Extra Strength Tylenol at the moment, despite our suggestions."
"Xander hates drugs or anything that makes him feel loopy," Willow interjected.
The doctor nodded and jotted something down on his clipboard. "Well, he's also asking to be discharged, something I'm loathe to do. However, I was told you've been given temporary custodianship of the young man, Mr. Giles. I'll give you a list of things to do and look out for. Give him a few minutes to change and I'll have one of the orderlies wheel him out."
"Thank you, doctor."
"Keep an eye out for him. Losing both parents in such a horrific manner could cause serious psychological scarring. Don't be surprised at depression or sudden mood swings – heightened paranoia isn't irregular either. Here's the number to a good grief counselor. Good day."
Giles and Xander were silent for most of the drive, the girls following to Joyce's van.
"Thanks for coming, Giles. It means a lot."
"I wouldn't have had a clue where to start looking if not for Drusilla."
"Dru?"
"Yes. Buffy had called, she had found your parents dead and you missing. She was frantic – but there was nothing to say where you'd gone. I planned on doing a tracking spell when Drusilla came by and told me she'd taken you to the hospital. She also said something about your parents arranging something." He remembered exactly what the vampire had said, but had no idea how much of it was true, hoping Xander would clear things up for him.
Xander curled in upon himself, staring blankly out the passenger window. "I lied to the cops. Three guys in suits were in the house with my folks. The big guy, he said ... he said," a shuddering breath, "Said I'd do and that the debt was paid. I took off like a bat outta hell, but one of them tackled me just outside. Hit my head pretty hard. Slapped cuffs on me. Was about to haul me back in when Dru took care of him. I blacked out after that. I'm guessing the boss man saw Dru take off with me, recognized her as a vamp, figured I was dead or turned, and shot my folks in retaliation." The recitation was monotone, flat and expressionless.
"Xander?" Giles glanced worriedly at the boy.
"I'm not upset that they're dead. I'm upset I didn't get to shoot them myself." A dark grin flittered across his features, "Is that wrong?"
Giles, having caught a glimpse of Xander's hospital file, shook his head. No one Xander's age should have a file that thick unless terminally ill. "I'll be honest and say I'm surprised you didn't snap and go after them long ago."
Another grin stretched his lips, "Who says I didn't?" He shrugged, "Besides, couldn't enjoy my emancipation if I was in juvie, could I?" He sighed, one hand rubbing his temple. "Anyway, I'm hoping that if they did kill my parents and later discover I didn't become vamp food, they'll decide I'm not worth the effort of trying to go after." They pulled into the drive. "But I'm sticking with my original story when it comes to the girls. I don't want them to know the truth. Buffy or Willow will start checking this guy out and that'll cause all sorts of trouble." He sighed again, "And I so don't need the pity and sympathy, let alone over-protectiveness I'd get if I told them my parents tried to sell me to the mob to pay their debts."
"Do you know who they were dealing with?"
"The guy who cuffed me mentioned a Mr. Frocetti." Xander turned to Giles and the man was struck with how tired the boy looked. The wounded look in dark eyes aged him as did the white pinched face – a far cry from the laughing fun-loving boy he'd come to know. "You sure about letting me stay? I don't want to be any trouble."
"It's no trouble and considering the circumstances, I definitely want you where friends can keep an eye on you. I've never fully trusted the American Welfare Services. Too many people slip through the cracks."
"Specialty of mine."
Giles blinked in confusion, then slowly nodded. If the boy's parents weren't already dead, he'd have been more than happy to let them meet Ripper.
"Promise you won't tell the others?"
"You have my word that unless it becomes an issue to deal with – I won't mention it."
"Fair enough. Thanks, G-man."
Giles felt the tension flow out of his shoulders and neck at the familiar nickname. Perhaps things would be fine after all. "Let's get you inside. You need your rest."
Xander was exhausted by the time the girls had left for the evening. He loved them all, but they nearly killed him with all their fussing. Willow especially hovered and babbled about keeping warm, to tell Giles if he needed anything, not to get out of bed – reminding Giles to check on him every hour, check for loss of memory or developing poor motor control, etc., etc. After nearly an hour, Giles managed to send everyone home, promising to return with some soup if he could stomach it.
Xander dozed off.
* * Chapter 17 * *
A breeze blew in through the window swaying the curtains and ruffling sweat damp hair. A cool embrace and soft lullaby soothed him from his nightmares and he clung to the figure that rocked him like a child.
"I'll protect you, my kitten, I will. See what good care I take?" Two men, 'Ludo' and 'Frack,' lay dead against the wall facing the foot of the bed, throats torn out, eyes wide, mouths open in screams of horror and denial.
To the right, a hyena laughed softly to herself and lay curled before the partially opened door of the closet. The hyena glared at a nearby corner, keeping a dark shadow at bay. A small child's arm reached from the closet and stroked the beast's pelt whispering, "Kingugwa, good Kingugwa."
To the left, a large gray and black striped cat perched on the dresser, grinning at the scene. The male cat turned to him, "We really need to talk."
Xander woke with a start.
* * Chapter 18 * *
Xander slowly made his way downstairs, unwilling to be alone with the voices in his head anymore. He silently eased onto the couch and watched Giles who sat at his kitchen table engrossed in a large dusty book, muttering to himself and making notes. He must have dozed off, because when he came around again he was covered in a soft afghan and Giles sat in an armchair across from him, looking at him with a concerned expression.
"Hey. Was I out long?" he blinked sleep out of his eyes, cautiously stretching, head aching a bit.
"Couple of hours. At least from when I first noticed you. Why didn't you say anything, Xander?"
"I didn't want to disturb whatever you were researching so diligently."
"Something to drink?"
"Got any hot chocolate?"
Giles nodded and went into the kitchen. Xander resituated himself, draping the afghan over his shoulders. He was cold. He wrapped his hands about the mug handed to him, drawing the warmth to himself. Sipping appreciatively, he nodded his gratitude. They were silent for a long while. Giles removed his glasses and began polishing them – a sure sign he was trying to work himself up to saying something. "Okay, G-man. Spill."
"Pardon?" the Watcher looked startled.
Xander quirked a half-grin. "Whatever it is that's got you so wound up," he nodded at the glasses. "What's the what?"
Chagrined, the older man replaced his glasses. "I fear that Ethan's spell may have had an adverse effect upon you."
Xander pulled his feet up onto the couch and curled up in the corner of the couch. "How so?"
"I hope you will forgive me, but I performed a minor spell while you were asleep that allowed me to read your aura. It is... well, shattered, for lack of a better term."
"And what does that tell you?" He sipped his drink.
"That whatever exactly the spell did, the effects didn't stop when the spell did. Looking at your aura is like looking at a – a kaleidescope. It shifts in color and intensities around the edges, though the core is white with strands of blue shot through. I'm not exactly sure what to make of it."
Xander sighed, "Did you ever do this spell before on any of us?"
"On Buffy, when I first met her, to – to ensure she was the Slayer. The Slayer essence is quite unmistakable."
"But you didn't use it on Willow or myself before? Not even when I was possessed by the Hyena spirit?"
The silence and stricken look on Giles' face was answer enough. "Oh, dear God."
"Calm down, G-Man."
"B-but, you're saying you're still possessed by the Hyena spirit – and I never knew, I just assumed you were fine once you returned to normal."
"It's not all bad. I've gotten some definite benefits from the situation, and so has Kingugwa."
"Who?"
"Kingugwa. Spotted Hyena. It's what she calls herself."
"Oh," Giles looked lost.
"Let me ask you another question. If you ignore the possessions, what would an aura like mine say to you?"
The answer was quick and decisive, "That you were utterly insane. Schizophrenic or possessed of multiple personalities but to a degree that you'd be exceedingly erratic, or quite possibly non-functional."
"Like I said, I've gotten some definite benefits." He sipped his chocolate, eyes on Giles, waiting for the penny to drop.
Giles stared at him, horror dawning in his eyes, as well as rage. "You? ... How? ... When?"
"All very good questions, G-Man," Xander unconsciously mimicked Cheshire Cat. "Let's say I'll never shed a tear for my parents' demise.
"When growing up, Willow and Jesse kept me from losing it completely – they were my safety net, even if they weren't exactly sure just how much I relied on them both. Being able to focus on them and keeping them safe kept me from flying off the handle. Probably saved my folks' life, too. When Jesse died I was able to keep going only because I had a new focus – destroy those that took him away. Vampires. But it was hard not to let it show how much the loss of his support meant.
"Then I got possessed by Kingugwa." He took a steadying breath. "That weekend was rough – but I managed to convince her not to fight me. She helps keep some of the less accommodating parts from getting uppity and helps out during patrols." He shot a jaundice look at the older man's gape, "What? It never occurred to wonder how a completely untrained kid could go up against vamps and if not win then at least survive? C'mon G-Man – you call yourself a Watcher?"
Giles had the good grace to blush. "I do apologize about that. I should have made sure that both you and Willow were schooled in at least the basics of self-defense before allowing you to go out and patrol. We can rectify that starting Monday – you can both participate in Buffy's training."
"Sounds good." Finishing his chocolate, Xander headed back to bed leaving Giles to think and worry.
The next morning, after getting permission from the police, Giles accompanied Xander back to his house to pack his belongings.
There were several large garbage bags sitting on the curb. Xander stood motionless staring at them for a long moment. Grabbing one, he opened it. Muttering foul curses, the teen checked the other bags. Giles thought he heard Xander say, "Fine, give me yet another reason to dance on your graves."
"Xander?"
"Well, we won't need the suitcases you brought. Seems my loving parents packed for me." The false, sickeningly sweet and cheerful tone made Giles' teeth itch, as did the wide, mad grin on the boy's face. "At least trash pick-up's not till Monday." Expression left his face so quickly, Giles felt a shiver of uneasiness race up his spine. He thought he was used to the teen's mercurial moods, but new knowledge made him reevaluate some of his prior notions. He helped Xander load the bags into his car and followed him into the house.
Xander went up to his old room which had been stripped of pretty much everything. At the window, he pried up the top section of the window ledge. A small hollow was revealed and he gave a sigh of relief as he extracted an envelope and a small bundle wrapped in a black bandanna. He also pulled a small green duffel from under a pile of trash in the corner of his closet. His last stop was the kitchen pantry where he picked up one of those fire-proof safety boxes generally used for storing important documents. "Okay. I'm done. Rest of this stuff can be sold off or burned for all I care." He walked out, tossing the items into the car, and collapsing into the front passenger seat.
Giles drove them both to his home, leaving Xander to his thoughts.
There had been no funeral. Xander arranged for the bodies of his parents to be cremated – no way were they going to be allowed to torment him after death in freakish parodies of themselves – despite the fact that it would probably be an improvement.
He asked Giles to accompany him and the two watched as the bodies were reduced to ash and bits of bone. The crematorium was quite used to this and even had a viewing area for the bereaved. Xander watched, face blank, eyes shuttered. It wasn't until he was presented with a jar filled with their ashes that the tension seemed to flow from his body leaving him wrung out. He didn't cry – but he felt relief just the same.
* * Chapter 19 * *
The stone bench encircled lovingly by the branches of the Weeping Willow Tree was familiar and comforting. He brushed his hand reverently across the names engraved on the surface – those he loved and those he lost forever remembered in granite. Along the bottom-side edging were smaller, crudely chiseled names and phrases – people and things he hated and wished to forget but chose not to – powerful reminders to hopefully learn from.
He pulled out a small chisel and hammer, choosing a section beneath the left hand corner of the table. He carved the particulars of the weekend – mainly the deaths, the boss man, and Dru – pouring his rage, hate, and confusion into the blows. Done, he scooted out from beneath the table, eyes resting on two particular names: 'Willow' which was edged in detailed leaves and vines, 'Jesse' surrounded in geometric shapes. It fascinated him that no matter how many times he carved into the table, there was always room for more.
Cheshire Cat appeared on a lower branch, grin first. He glanced about approvingly. "Nice place."
Kingugwa slunk in between the dangling branches, laughing softly to herself. "It's his thinking place. His and the cub's."
"Hiding place," came a quiet voice from beneath the table. A small, skinny, seven year old boy peered up at them from below, shoving a hank of dark hair out of his eyes.
"Sometimes, Alex," Xander agreed. "But usually for thinking. Which I'm guessing is the reason we're all here."
"Yes," purred Cheshire Cat as he got comfortable on the tree branch. "Kingugwa took me on a tour. Told me some very interesting things."
"Such as?"
"My presence has created some changes in your mental landscape and, according to Kingugwa, many of your lesser fragments have been reabsorbed."
"Sounds good. So, just as I have part of an African plain, now I've got part of Wonderland?"
"Yes," the response sounded ... off, somehow.
Xander studied the feline intently, once again making Cheshire Cat want to squirm. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Your problem cubs joined up into one form," Kingugwa stated simply. "Big, ugly, and mean."
Xander blinked and paled. "Let me guess. Jabberwock."
"Unfortunately."
"Ah, man," the younger boy complained and crawled up into Xander's lap to be comforted.
"It's okay, Alex. Everything will be alright. We'll make sure you've got some bolt-holes in case you're cornered." He rubbed circles on the boy's back.
"I'd be more than happy to teach you a few tricks, as well," Cheshire Cat stated, going slightly transparent with a grin.
Alex grinned back, relaxing some.
Xander smiled, but redirected the conversation. "Can it be defeated?"
"Not currently. We're not strong enough. On the positive side, it cannot take over unless you willingly give over control."
"Can it be reasoned with? Can I make a deal with it similar to how I did with Kingugwa?"
"The Jabberwock in my world was treacherous. It would smile in your face while stabbing you in the back. I wouldn't try to give it any concessions – it'll use them to take over if it can." Cheshire Cat paused, green gold eyes blinking in thought, "We can probably figure a way to borrow it's energy in an emergency – but it would most likely exact a heavy toll."
"We'll keep that in mind." Xander sighed, "We're as integrated as we'll ever be as long as the Jabberwock exists." Alex tugged on his sleeve. "Yes, Alex?"
"No more splits, though. We're more stable than ever before," the child beamed, happy at that.
Xander mirrored the grin, "I can live with that."
* * Chapter 20 * *
The alarm went off and Xander stretched languidly. Muscles sore from Friday protested the movement, but he ignored them. He dressed simply foregoing his usual bright and garish look. Dark blue jeans, black steel tipped boots, gray tee shirt and a black overshirt.
Lacing his boots he noticed his window cracked open and a single yellow rose lying on the sill. He twirled it absently between his fingers as he made his way downstairs, lost in thought. He tucked it gently in his shirt pocket and stared in awe at the kitchen table. Giles had made breakfast: toast, eggs, and a sweet tea that Xander quickly developed a taste for. It'd been years since he'd eaten before school and Xander savored every bite.
Giles puttered about getting his papers and books in order. He looked over at his charge with concern. "Are you sure you're ready to return to school? It's only been two days since your ideal. I could easily write an excuse if you'd like."
Xander gave a genuine warm smile – the first since his near-abduction. "I'm sure, but thanks anyway. The longer I put this off, the harder it'll be to force myself to go."
"Understood. Care to ride in with me? I've a meeting with Snyder this morning."
Xander shook his head, "Got my skateboard. Gonna clear my head before class."
"Then I shall see you at school." He handed the teen a key, "Lock up when you leave. Please check in with me if you need anything."
Xander cheerfully waved him off.
The school day was interesting. Okay, so it sucked, but school always sucked and oddly enough, even with the different reactions (or non-reactions) to the news of his parents' deaths, it didn't suck as much as it usually did.
He was actually able to focus in class. He overheard one teacher snidely remark that he must still be in shock; it had taken some self-control not to beat the asshole up. But, the truth was, he was no longer constantly having to ignore or tune out the other voices in his head that clambered for his attention. He never had this problem on patrol, probably because staying focused and alive was one of the few things all his voices agreed on. Now, he only had four voices (five if you count the snarling the Jabberwock did as talking) and he found it much easier to listen to his teachers.
The students who usually picked on and belittled him left him be after the first confrontation – a comment on his clothes: "When's the funeral?" He'd responded simply with: "Yesterday. Both parents," and the word had spread Picking on someone for their looks or brains on a normal day was one thing, dealing with grief was something else. Even Cordelia had cut her usual biting responses, giving only a nod and sympathetic smile before turning away. It was strange, nearly everyone in town knew someone who had been taken by the darkness – but more pedestrian deaths were few and far between. A double murder within a person's own home was unheard of. Xander found himself an instant celebrity or at the very least a curiosity.
He escaped to the Library during Geometry. "Can I hide here a while?"
"What's wrong, Xander?" Giles dropped a pile of books upon the large table.
Xander collapsed into a nearby chair with a sigh. "Mr. Bennigan is being an ass. I forgot the weekend homework assignment and he decided to make me the object lesson of the day on how laziness now will breed poverty later. I left before I did something that would get me expelled. Some of the other kids looked pretty outraged, too. We might be joined in a mass exodus."
"If it's any consolation, he wasn't here for this morning's meeting. He missed first period due to accompanying his wife to her chemo therapy."
"Okay, then I guess I can forgive him. But I'm not going back today."
"Very well. Do you wish to rest or would you be interested in helping me by reshelving books?"
Xander flashed a grin. "Interested? No. But I will anyway." He pushed himself out of the chair. "It'll keep me from thinking too much about what happened and what might have happened."
He could tell Giles wanted to discuss something, but they were interrupted. Sure enough, about half the class turned up in the library. Giles tried to find tasks for them all.
"What happened?"
"Bennigan got mad that you left," one of the girls reported. "Started fuming about disrespect. Matt told him your folks had been killed and there had been a meeting about it. Mr. B backed down a bit, looked mollified but not very apologetic. We were too upset to continue the lesson, so we left." She turned to Giles. "Hope you don't mind, Mr. Giles. We figured we'd get in less trouble here than if we went to the quad."
"It's quite alright, Miss Stevens." They all worked in companionable silence.
Giles had filled out what felt like a mountain of paperwork in order to gain permanent custody of Xander, but had not expected it to go through very speedily as he was British and unmarried. To his shock, he was approved before the week was out. "What of your Uncle Rory?" he asked as he signed the space that made it official. The two sat in his office during the lunch break.
He slid the page over to Xander for his own signature. "He's not a blood relative. More of a friend of my dad's. Permanent moocher. Personally, I'd rather live with Angel. The guy's a scuzz." He handed the page back with a flourish, pleased beyond words that someone he respected wanted to claim him.
"Oh."
"Yeah. I heard he got arrested Tuesday for breaking into the house wanting a place to sleep. Seems he got real belligerent and the police are checking his alibi for Halloween." Xander shrugged. "As far as I know, I don't have any other family. And if I do, I'm not sure I'd want anything to do with them."
Giles could certainly sympathetic with that.
After the house and furnishings had been sold off and the life insurance policies had been paid, Xander found himself quite well off. More than enough to take care of himself should anything happen. Enough to pay for a couple years of college, should he choose to go. He took Giles' suggestion; invested some money and put the rest into savings. Xander offered to pay rent – he'd been doing that for the past few years anyway, so it was nothing new – but Giles refused. He claimed chores and keeping his grades up were more than reasonable "payments."
School – home to do chores and homework – training, patrols and research parties at the library became the routine – broken only occasionally by the Big Bad of the month and near apocalypses. Xander slowly relaxed into his new life.
Rupert Giles had grown accustomed to Xander's presence over the months. The boy was quieter, neater, and a lot more mature than he'd been led to expect from his prior contact through school and the Scooby Gang. Rupert knew now it had been a defensive mechanism – smoke screen to keep people from prying – and he cursed himself for not recognizing it sooner.
The two would frequently talk late into the evenings on various topics: demonology, philosophy, plans for the future. Very occasionally Xander would share a memory that made him the person he was now. The boy was painfully honest with him, and it humbled the Watcher how much Xander trusted him. Rupert confessed some of his own mischief-making when he had been younger – including his connection to Ethan Rayne and demon summoning.
Xander scratched at his head, embarrassed. "Dawn cut his hand off during Halloween."
"What? How?"
"He went after her with a baseball bat as we were about to stop the spell and she defended herself with the vorpal blade." Xander shrugged, "He got off lucky. The Jabberwock was nearly through the mirror. Just imagine what it would have done to him."