Unexpected Aka Necromancer's Beginning

DeBrant

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."

Part 10