SquidgeWorld Archive

Chapter Text

Necromancer's Journeys
by Danii

Xander had been in LA for a week, and he still didn't know what to do. Actually, he knew what he should do, but he didn't know if he should do it. He would sit in the little motel room he was using, his feet propped up on his suitcase, with his hand held just over the phone. His fingers itched to dial the number Oz had given them all so long ago. But he couldn't do it.

He hadn't lied to Buffy and the rest. He needed to be alone for a while, go on a trip, clear his mind. But, the little voice at the back of his mind screamed at him, the only people he had to be away from were the Scoobies. He had needed a breather from them, from the way things were, from the way things were changing. He had needed to get away and deal with his deeds. And the only person who could help him do that was a few blocks and a phone call away. However, the distance was far greater due to the fact that he wasn't willing to make the call.

But Xander was getting bored of going out every night to clubs, picking up girls, then leaving before they could invite him home or something. So, he had to do it. However, just as he finally was about to pick of the phone and dial, it rang.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me..." Xander grumbled. It was his luck. "Finally get enough nerve to call and the damn phone rings..."

Despite his annoyance, he picked it up and pulled it to his ear. "Hello?" he said, a bit disgruntled.

"Good day, Mr. Harris, or rather, Mr. LaVelle," a smooth, oily voice on the other end greeted, "I'm calling from the law firm of Wolfram & Hart..."

"Yes?" Xander replied, still angry that he'd been interrupted from making his call. Besides, what good news did a lawyer bring?

"Then you are Mr. LaVelle?"

"Call me Harris..." Xander answered shortly. He preferred his mother's name, since it was the one he had grown up using. That, and he still wasn't sure if it was a good thing to be a LaVelle. He wanted to be careful.

"Fine, Mr. Harris..." the oily voice said with a bit of a smirk in its tone, "Anyway, Mr. Harris, we at Wolfram & Hart are offering you a rather unique opportunity to use your...skills...at our illustrious firm."

"What?"

"In other words, Mr. Harris..." it said, "We'd like to hire you."

Xander was completely dumbfounded. What was this guy talking about? A job? At a law firm? He hadn't even gotten into college! And what special skills did he mean?

"What sort of job?" the young Necromancer asked suspiciously, "Using what skills with what pay?"

"A rather unique and excellent position using your INBORN talents at RAISING certain...things with one of the finest salaries available in that market..."

Was he possibly talking about his necromantic abilities? He couldn't but...Xander's conscience was kicking him in the ass, but he asked anyway, "How much money?"

"Six figures" the voice told him simply.

The young man whistled. That was a lot of money for doing what came naturally. But he knew there had to be a catch.

"What exactly will I be doing for your...firm?"

"You will be used at some points to house clients, at which times you will be responsible for the client's well-being." The voice informed him, "We are sure that with your rather unique assets you will be able to hold off almost anything that would try to cause trouble. You will also be used, at some points, as 'brute force'. But that will be rare, and we will put you in the firm's special training facility before that. But mostly, you will be 'raising' certain people's from their 'rest' in order certify or deny certain documents when needed, and other such things..."

"So I'll be your pet Necromancer?" Xander asked, his voice a bit hard. His uncle's warning rang in his head, telling him to beware those who seek to use his gift. Then again...six figures...

There was a pause, then the voice answered, "In short, yes."

"Okay, as long as we're clear..."

"Crystal." The voice said, "Now, are you interested?"

Xander was divided. He didn't know anything about these people who seemed to know so very much about him, but it was a job, a good paying one, which could help him in his studies. Then again, why would these people need a Necromancer in their firm? It confused him, so he didn't want to decide without more information.

"I'll think about it." Xander answered finally, "Give me around a week to contact you."

"Fine, Mr. Harris..." it responded, sounding a bit disappointed, and almost angry, "Please call. And don't forget what we're offering: a rather unique opportunity that could be dangerous to turn down. Our number is 555-6667..."

The young Necromancer was about to ask what 'danger' the voice was talking about, but he heard the click that told him that the other person (had it been a person? He couldn't tell whether it was a man or woman...) had hung up. But he didn't like the sound of it. So he did the only thing he could think of. He made his call.

"Hello?"

"Hello," a familiar cheery female voice exclaimed, "Angel Investigations! We help the hopeless!"

"Cordelia, it's me, Xander..."

Xander could practically hear the expression of disgust on her face. "You again? What the heck do you want this time? Last time you called, the boss had a fit!"

"I promise I won't do it again, Cordy," Xander replied, his voice pleading with her, "Can I come over for a bit to see you guys? I gotta few questions and stuff..."

"Sure, come right over." Cordy answered, sounding bored now, "I'm guessing you're in LA now?"

"Yup."

"Yeah, so just head over. As long as you don't take up time from paying clients, I couldn't care less..."

Xander grimaced, told her, "I'll be right over," and then hung up.

The young Necromancer got on his socks and shoes then began walking the few blocks to Angel's apartment/office building. But on the way, he was interrupted by a feeble moan in one of the alleyways.

Looking around to see who was there (no one), Xander made his way into the alley, only to see a huddled form in rags. Through the tears and gaps in the shoddy clothing, the young man could see long limp hair, still holding it's gold color despite it's dirty appearance.

"Miss? Are you all right?" Xander asked, walking closer to the young woman.

The person moaned back, long and low, as he approached. Then it began rocking back and forth.

"Miss, are you all right?" Xander asked again, his voice soft and soothing. He didn't want to scare the young woman, or what he assumed to be a young woman. It continued moaning, until Xander was right behind it. As he reached out his hand to touch the poor girl, the figure spun quickly and sprang up to reveal a ridged face and gleaming fangs.

"'Miss, are you all right?'" the vampire mocked, standing up to it's full height, which was a little shorter than Xander, "Dear me, they get more pathetic every time..."

Xander didn't respond. He just smiled.

"What are you smiling about, meat?" the vampire asked, grinning cruelly, "I've caught you, you're going to die, be upset about it!"

"No, you haven't caught anything..." Xander responded, holding his hand out to her, "and I'm not going to die."

The vampire tried to move towards him, and then stopped, as if it had hit a wall. "What is-"

"You picked the wrong deal, my dear..." the young man told her, walking around at a safe distance, "Because I happen to be a Necromancer..."

Fear shot into the vampire's eyes at that word, and she seemed to be about to say something, but then she turned to dust. Xander pulled the stake back into his sleeve, and then began walking away.

"You know, I'm glad I staked that one before she said anything..." Xander said to himself, "Anything she would have said would have wreaked the moment..."

It wasn't the first time he'd done that during his time in LA, but it never seemed to get any less satisfying. He smiled to himself, then walked the rest of the way to Angel's, made his way up, and went in.

"Hello!" Xander yelled with a laugh, "'Lucy, I'm home!'"

"Hello, Xander," Angel said, pulling away from the a wall so that he could be seen, "What brings you to our neck of the woods?"

"Me." The young Necromancer answered simply, "And the question of who the hell Wolfram & Hart are..."

There was silence.

"I was also wondering if you were aware of the vampire who was in the alley next door..."

Angel and Cordelia both looked at Xander oddly. "Was?"

"I killed it." Xander told them calmly, "What? Didn't you hear?"

"Then it's true..." Angel said solemnly, stepping towards Xander, examining him as if he was some strange new species of demon, "You're the last one..."

"The last what?" Cordy asked angrily, completely unaware of what either of them were talking about.

"Necromancer..." Xander explained, "Raiser of the dead, controller of vampires, master of Azrael's Flame..."

"Necro-what?" Cordy questioned, still completely confused. She stomped her foot angrily, then walked over to jab her finger into his chest painfully, "What are you talking about!?"

"Xander, I am guessing from Angel's reaction and the information which I have heard through the door, is a Necromancer, a person who is born with a tremendous amount of life energy and is therefore able to raise, and control, the mortal dead, as well as several other powers which are rather hard to explain..."

"Hi, Wesley..." Xander said nonchalantly, not even turning around to see the British Watcher, "How are things?"

"Quite well, as you can see." He replied, walking into the room, "By the way, Detective Lockley called, Angel. She'd like to apologize for her behavior recently."

"I'll call her back..." the souled vampire replied, still looking at Xander oddly, "This is a bit more important."

"So, Xander is like some creepy freak?" Cordy asked Wesley, having just got what everyone had been saying, "And I kissed him?"

"Several times, sweetheart..." Xander remarked, smiling giddily.

"Not a creep..." Wesley replied before the conversation could become more inane, "Think of him as a rather powerful wizard or some such."

Both Xander and Cordy looked at him. "Please."

However, before the three of them could start bickering, Angel asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I had a little trouble back in Sunnydale..." the young Necromancer replied vaguely, looking at his shoes, "And I needed to get away. So I came here-"

"And trouble found you anyway..." Angel finished. His face turned pensive, and the vampire started to pace. Wesley reached out to him, but Angel brushed him off so he could think. "What did Wolfram & Hart want with you?"

"Actually, they were offering me a job." Xander admitted with a small chuckle, "Pretty damn good one too. Six figures for getting dead guys to confirm their wills..."

Angel turned and stared at Xander heatedly. "Is that what they told you?"

"Yeah. They said that I would have several jobs, such as protecting clients and stuff, but that mostly I'd be raising people to figure out wills and stuff..."

"Why do I doubt that?" Wesley put in, beginning to pace like his boss.

"Why do I agree with him?" Angel asked solemnly.

"Why do you guys not like this? I mean it's good money just to do a little harmless raising!" Xander replied, "I just came to you to see if there was anything better in town..."

Angel stopped his movement and looked the young Necromancer straight in the eyes. "There is much better in this town, if you're willing to take a bit of a pay cut..."

"How is it better if there's a pay cut?" Xander asked, looking perplexed. He hadn't wanted to upset anyone, but for some reason this issue was bugging them.

"It's better in that you'll be helping the good guys, the ones who are fighting for our side..." Angel answered, sitting down yet still keeping eye contact, "If you go with Wolfram & Hart, I guarantee you'll be seeing me, seeing all three of us, but it will be on the nasty side of a weapon..."

"You mean Wolfram & Hart is evil? As in Hellmouth-evil as opposed to just regular-lawyer evil? " Xander asked. With all his experience in Sunnydale, he should have known better, but Xander was the universal optimist. Besides, he would think that they'd know he was friends with the Slayer, and therefore not into the evil scene.

"Bingo!" Cordy said cheerily, then her voice dropped, "We deal with these bozos all the time, and all they do is cause, help, or create trouble."

"Indeed."

Xander slowly sat down in one of the chairs near the desk, and thought. There wasn't really much to think about. He didn't really like Angel, but he did trust him to know the difference between good and evil. Besides, when had Cordy ever lied, even to save the feelings of another person or to be tactful? Never was the answer, he knew. Finally, he made a decision, and looked up to find all eyes on him. Cordy, looking as angry as a wet cat at him even thinking of joining the enemy. Wesley studying him with eyes that he remembered as being a bit less worldly. Angel boring into his soul with his gaze, letting Xander know that he meant business; that if the two of them ever met over the edge of a blade, that Angel would, with no qualms or delays, kill him.

"Of course I'm not going to work for an evil law firm!" Xander exclaimed, making everyone in the office jump, "Duh..."

"Well that's good news..." Cordy said simply.

"Definitely..." Wesley continued.

"Now, what about this other job?" Xander asked anxiously. He wanted so badly to find something he could do that didn't involve asking about fries, and this was like a light at the end of the tunnel for him.

"I, myself, am represented by a rival firm by the name of Gryffin & Draco, who have been looking for something that Wolfram & Hart doesn't have to give them an edge."

"What's the difference between the two?" Xander asked.

"Well, Wolfram & Hart takes all clients, no questions asked, even the evil ones. Gryffin & Draco won't take any clients who destroy, kill, or cause evil to spread, so they have a much shorter list of clients. If they had you," Angel said, staring at the young man, "they could be a major competitor of Wolfram & Hart's. Necromancers, if you weren't aware, are very rare, and many clients might switch to have the advantage of your services."

"I'm that important?"

"He's that important?" Cordy echoed. Xander turned around for a moment to give her a dirty look. She answered it with a raspberry in his direction. Angel sighed. Nothing brought out the child in people like Xander Harris.

"Yes, Xander, as much as it pains me to say, you are..." the vampire told him tiredly.

"Cool."

Angel rubbed his eyes in a rather Giles-like manner. "So, do you want me to talk to them?"

"Sure, Deadboy, I'd love to be the pet Necromancer for your little group of ethical lawyers..." he replied with a smile, getting up from his seat in a bound.

Cordy sighed, then went to do paperwork, and Wesley went to read up on the latest prophecies, while Angel began to make his way out of the office.

"But," Xander said softly, "First I'm gonna help you out."

All activity in the office ceased as three pairs of eyes turned on the young man.

"What do you mean?" Cordy asked, "Who on earth would we want to bring back to li-"

She cut off as she thought of the answer to her question. Angel looked towards the small framed drawing that hung on the wall, it's lumpy form unrecognizable and unimportant to any but those who knew its significance. Then Angel and Cordy's eyes met. He couldn't mean. He couldn't be serious...they wouldn't..."

"How did you-"

"The rather depressed half-spirit of an Irishman in the corner that keeps telling me to 'stop flirtin with his gal' was a clue..." Xander said nonchalantly.

And then Cordy fainted.

"Is he that guy Oz told me about," Xander asked, looking at Cordy's limp form, and then at the figure only he could see (who was at that moment alternately fretting over Cordelia and smiling his head off at the fact that someone saw him), "Daryl or something?"

"Doyle..." Angel said, an edge to his voice, "He gave his life to save a large bunch of people, Cordelia and myself included."

"But he didn't."

Angel, who was picking up his secretary at that moment, was silent for a moment as he stared at the young Necromancer. "What?"

"He didn't really die...not completely. More like half-dead," Xander explained, sounding as if he was telling the vampire that two plus two equaled four, "His body was burned away, but due to some circumstance-" he concentrated for a moment, then continued, "was he a half-demon?"

"Y-yeah..." Angel got out. He was in complete shock. Firstly, he was finding out that Doyle wasn't really dead. Then, Xander actually knew something that was both important and, at least it sounded that way, true. The vampire was in shock.

"Yes, a half-demon would do it." Xander went on, seeming to think about it, "Being half a demon would enable the human soul to have less dependence on a body. I mean, every demon is just a demonic spirit in a capsule to work in this world. So, all I'd have to do would be to reform his body..."

Angel and Cordy just stared at him. It was like being 40 years old and seeing Santa Claus again. You couldn't believe that it was true. It was too good to be true.

"You make it sound simple." Cordy said at last, pulling away from her employer, "Could we have gotten him back-"

"Nope," Xander answered, "Pretty sure only one of my kind could do it. One of my books had something like this in it. I think I know what ritual I have to do. And I'll be glad to do it for you."

"You can bring back Doyle?" Cordelia asked, her eyes brimming with tears. She couldn't believe it. She'd get a second chance. A chance to love him, to let him know just how much he meant to her. Not to mention a chance to clobber him for giving her the mind-numbing visions.

"I-I think so..." Xander replied, now starting to sound a little unsure. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn't sure if he could pull it off. He didn't want to put her hopes too high and then kill them. He would never be cruel like that.

"Then try it." Cordelia said, her voice suddenly hard and determined. The young woman wiped the tears from her eyes, and stood up straight as a board, "Let's go now and try it."

Xander took in the look in her eyes, and then turned to Angel, who was just behind her. His face held an expression he'd seen on the vampire before: deep lose and guilt. Xander knew that the Irishman (who was even now quietly watching the scene unfold) meant a lot to Angel, and suddenly, he didn't want to let either of them down. Yet he wouldn't deceive him. He let every insecurity he had show in his eyes for the souled vampire see. Yet, a second later, Angel nodded.

"What about you?" Xander asked, addressing what everyone thought was blank air. The spirit nodded, then looked to Cordy with an expression of longing.

"I wantta' hold her." The young Necromancer heard in what he knew must be but a shadow of the man's voice, "I wantta' be wit' her, love her, fight for her, protect her. And I canna do it like this..."

"And you all trust me?"

All three nodded to him once more, and it made his heart ache. They trusted him. Someone trusted him with something important. Someone was trusting him with the state of their soul, and for the other two, their happiness. He just hoped he could deliver.

"All right." He said at last, "But I'm going to need some stuff..."

"What will you require?" Wesley said, startling everyone. They had all sort of forgotten he was there, and from his stance, they could tell he noticed.

"I need to look it up, but I know I need three drops of blood from both Angel and Cordelia, not to mention a quantity of dust from a graveyard, some crow's feathers, several boards, some chalk, and...what kind of demon was he?"

"Braken demon."

"And one goat."

Three pairs of physical eyes and one pair of spiritual ones settled on him.

"And maybe some bile. I'm running low on that stuff. But the rest I have. And we'll have to perform the ritual on the spot that he died."

There was silence for a second, and then each of them seemed to wake up.

"I'll find out about the ship!" Cordy exclaimed, pulling the telephone to her ear and dialing.

"I'll get the supplies..." Wesley said, cleaning up the mess of scrolls on his desk and putting them away neatly.

"And I'll find a goat." Angel continued, picking up his jacket from where he'd dropped it while picking up Cordelia. The vampire walked out, a rare smile on his face, then ducked back in and said, "And I'll stop by G&D on my way back..."

Xander answered the rare smile with a grin of his own, then waved the vampire off. "Thanks!"

So with everyone busy, that left him with one thing to do. Books. He had to check and recheck his books.

"This is so different from home..." Xander grumbled as he made his way back to his motel to get his case, "Yup, we never have to research at home...makes me wonder why I ever left..."

Yet, despite his grumbles, he was enjoying this. He was enjoying having a purpose, helping people, and most of all, he had enjoyed the look on Deadboy's face when he realized the implications of Xander being a Necromancer. It had been rather amusing. Yet he knew that he would never attempt to control Angel. It had nothing to do with power, or age. It was just that, although the two of them weren't the best of friends, Xander respected Angel, and what he was trying to do. So Xander had vowed to himself to never do it.

Moving quickly, he got his box of goodies from his room and walked back to the office. He got there this time without any incidents, and set up in the back office. As he looked through the book that held the ritual, Xander began to get a little worried.

The spell required immense power, not to mention great skill, and was listed as one of the most difficult to perform. According to his text, his great grand-something or other had been the only one in his century to perform it correctly. Luckily, Xander noted, the book listed no horrible fate for those who performed it incorrectly, but he knew that he had to do it right.

He had to do it for Angel, who he had constantly attacked, verbally if not physically. The person his lie had sent to Hell. Xander knew that he had been right in lying to Buffy; if she'd had known her boyfriend might get his soul back, she never would have survived, let alone saved the world. Yet, he still felt horribly for putting Angel through that pain.

And Cordy. He'd hurt Cordelia so badly with his stupidity that it made him want to bash his head into the wall. Just as she'd let someone into her heart, truly into her heart, he had broken her trust in him by cheating on her. No matter what, he knew, he had to give her back her happiness. He had to bring back the person she loved. And she did love Doyle, he could tell. The gleam in her eyes as she spoke of him, the raw determination as she demanded that they try to bring him back. And, Xander knew, Doyle would care for her the way she deserved. Even now the ethereal form of the half-demon gazed at her with eyes filled with joy that he might be once more able to touch her. Xander was happy for them, and wished that he could find a person he loved like that.

He used to think that he would always love Buffy, and that eventually she would come to recognize that she loved him, but he knew now that it wasn't going to happen. Buffy didn't love him like that. It had taken time, but he'd realized that what he'd felt for Buffy, the deep need to protect and care for her, was not the adoration of a lover, but the deep and unchangeable love of a brother, similar to what he had for Willow. He'd deceived himself into believing that this protectiveness (and the good deal of lust he had for her) was love, but it wasn't. He still hadn't found love. The kind that made you quake in your boots at the very idea of something happening to that special someone. The kind that made you want to be a better person. The kind of love that is so extreme, you live for it. And he envied Cordelia for having it.

That reminded him of Anya. Anya had known it wasn't love. That's why she hadn't been there when he came back from his duel that night. She'd just left, the only clue to her motives being a quickly-written note. It hadn't taken many words to get her point across, which was that she couldn't live without someone who really loved her the way she needed it. She assured him that the sex had been great, but that she needed more, and thanked him for showing her how to be a person again. It had hurt him deeply to get that note, and he tried not to think about it. It just reminded him even more how lonely he was.

Xander shook his head at this point, and then turned back to his books. He couldn't afford to screw around at this point, not when (according to Cordy) the Quintessa was about to leave port tomorrow. He had to get this down pat, with every gesture and word perfect in his memory. But just as he finally got into study mode, he heard a familiarly accented voice.

"Sorry about earlier, friend..." the half-dead spirit of Francis Allen Doyle said, sitting his astral body down in the chair next to Xander's, "I just heard yer name, and I remembered that Cordy had said the two of ya had been an item, so I gotta little jealous..."

"No problem," Xander replied, waving off the transparent Irishman, "I understand. But don't worry, I'm not after Cordy."

"I know." Doyle responded, reclining. It looked odd, especially since that put his see-through body partially into the table, "You wouldna be helping me if you wanted Cordelia..."

The young Necromancer grinned at the man only he could see. "Hey, as long as you take care of her right, we'll have no troubles. And I'm glad to help."

The other man laughed. "Me Princess? I'd love ta' take care of her, and I was on the road ta' that when this little 'death' thing got in the way..."

"Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we?" Xander answered with a lop-sided grin, "Can't have another of those unrequited loves, can we?"

There was silence between the raiser and the dead half-man, which Doyle finally broke.

"Don't worry, bud, you'll find her..." the half-demon told him, almost putting a translucent hand on his shoulder, "You'll find that special gal tha' makes you wantta scream at how perfect she is...I know you will."

"Thanks." Xander replied with a sheepish grin, "And is it that obvious that I'm lonely?"

The half-demon chuckled again, nearly falling backwards through the table. He righted himself, and then winked at the Necromancer.

"It's not tha' noticeable, but I know the feeling...I can see it in yer eyes..."

"Good," Xander whispered back conspiratorially, " because if Angel saw it and started pitying me, I don't think I would ever live it down...not to mention the man-to-man talks he try to have with me..."

This time the spirit did fall over, through the table, to the floor, having a good laugh. The young man held his hand down until he realized how pointless it was, then watched as Doyle found way back up into his seat.

"Oh, I haven't hadda good laugh at the old broody-vamp for a good while..." the half-demon kinda-ghost said, the giggle still in his voice, "It would be perfect if I had a bit of whiskey..."

Xander looked out the window to see Wesley and Angel coming into the building, then turned to his transparent new friend.

"You'll get your whiskey soon enough..."

A few minutes later, Xander made out the bleating of an angry-sounding goat that the vampire was trying bringing up the elevator. Both the living and the dead man turned their heads to see Angel walk in, his face very close to vamping out in frustration. Even with his supernatural strength, he was having trouble pulling the animal through the doorway.

"Xander, could you help me out?"

"Don't look at me, Deadboy," the young man responded, holding his hands out in a 'no way' gesture, "I raise the dead. I'm not Dr. Dolittle."

"Well, you asked for the goat," the vampire answered in between huffs as he struggled with the beast, "You take care of it."

"Fine" replied Xander, getting up from his chair, "Gimme her leash."

The young Necromancer leaned over just enough for Angel to slap the rope into his hands. Then Xander, moving slowly and gently, moved towards the animal. It immediately calmed.

"That's right..." he said in a reassuring tone, putting his hand to the creature's nostrils and kneeling so that they were on the same level, "It's okay. I'm your friend. You'll be fine. Yes, dear, just calm down..."

Angel, Doyle, Cordelia (who had just gotten off the phone with the captain of the Quintessa) and Wesley (who had just come up the stairs and was holding a large box of supplies) all watched in confused awe as Xander mumbled comforting words to the once-angry little goat, who was now rather well behaved. Finally, Angel asked, "How'd you do that?"

"Well," Xander answered, getting up from the floor slowly so as not to startled the beast, "After that little episode I had back in Sunnydale involving animal possession, I felt guilty about a little something I had done during the that time. So to satisfy my conscience, I started volunteering at the town animal shelter. Learned a couple things there."

"I had no idea."

"But the other thing," Xander continued, pretending Angel hadn't said anything, "is that animals, as a whole, hate anything unnatural, such as vampires."

"But if you knew that, why didn't you stop ME from fetching-"

"Because I thought you knew that, and if you didn't, I figured I'd get a good laugh..." Xander replied with a large grin.

The souled vampire looked a bit upset, and the expression on his face dared anyone to laugh. There was silence, until Cordy and Wesley both giggled under their breath. Xander (and Doyle, even if they couldn't see it) just smiled.

"Fine" Angel said at last with only a hint of emotion, "You've got your goat, and the rest of the things you said you need. Let's head over to the Quintessa."

"Okay." Xander replied, "Lemme just sort everything. Cause I have to do this ritual exactly as ordered or it won't work."

The young Necromancer did as he needed, moving many of the items from the box into small jars and containers in his ebony case. He worked silently, with not even the hint of a smile, placing things just where he needed, checking the book every few minutes to see that what he'd done was what was needed. Finally, he finished, closed the case, and said, "All right, let's go."

The little party made their way down to Angel's car, but just as they were about to leave, a voice rang out from one of the dark shadows of the alleyway.

"Where do you think you're going?" the voice asked in a masculine, rather cruel sounding voice, "But more importantly, where do you think you're going with him?"

Xander turned around to where he felt the speaker was. "It's none of your damned business..."

"Oh," the voice retorted, stepping out of the darkness to take the form of a large angry vampire, "But it is. Any future or present employee of Wolfram & Hart is my business, especially concerning you."

Xander didn't even blink. "Well then, don't bother me. I'm neither a future nor a present employee of that firm. I have other plans."

"Well," the vampire began as at least twenty others of its kind came out of the shadows, "No one gives a damn what your plans are."

Angel and Wesley, who had stood silent during the whole discussion, looked like they were about to spring forward, weapons ready, to attack the vampires, but Xander held them back with a shake of his head. He wasn't going to let any of their blood be spilt for his problems. He could handle this.

"Well," Xander replied, his voice almost friendly except for the hard edge within it, "I'm not going to work at Wolfram & Hart, and that's final. So why don't you boys get moving, and leave me to my business?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible." The vampire answered, stepping towards Xander, along with his group, "If you don't want to work at Wolfram & Hart for an insanely nice paycheck, you'll have to die. Not my choice, you understand..."

"No, it's mine." The young man answered back, "And the only ones who are gonna die in this alley will be you and your friends. They didn't tell you, did they?"

"What?" the vampire asked, an anxious and cruel smile on his deformed face.

Xander formed a large ball of white flame just above his hand, "What I am..."

"And what's that..." the vampire questioned with just a hint of fear as he gazed at the white ball.

"A Necromancer..." he replied.

The vampire's eyes widened in disbelief and fear, and he looked about to run. But he didn't have a chance to do anything as he spontaneously combusted in white flames. Among the ranks of vampires, one after another did the same, until there were only dust piles in the alley. Xander, looking a bit drained, but still rather confident, looked at where the vampires had once been, smiled, then turned around and continued to put his things into the car. As he did so, Angel tapped him on the shoulder.

"You frighten me." Angel said simply to the young man.

"Don't worry," Xander answered with a grin, "It was rigged to hit only soulless things, which doesn't include you...I was careful. Don't want to damage my favorite vampire..."

"I'm not talking about that..." Angel whispered, looking around to see if anyone saw them talking. Wesley and Cordelia were too busy getting the goat in the car.

"What do you mean?" He asked, turning around to face the vampire.

"Well, it's just that, well, what you did to those vampires...I just noticed something that made me think about something...and it reminded me of all those time...well, I just realized that I'm glad I'm your friend."

"Awe, Deadboy, how sweet..."

"No, I mean..." Angel didn't know how to put what he knew into words, "What I mean is, well, I just sorta realized that you're a very dangerous person, maybe even more dangerous than anyone I've ever known."

"Why do you say that?" Xander asked with a smile, "This?" He showed the vampire a small blue flame.

"No, it doesn't even have anything to do with your powers, though they are helpful..." Angel told him, "It's the fact that...well, just the fact that, inside, you have a very hard core."

"Like an inside-out tootsie pop?"

"No! What I mean is, you can joke and play with everyone, but the second anyone threatens those you consider your friends, or family or whatever, you become the most determined, vicious, cold bastard...and you did the same thing even when you were unaware of what you were...you're a bit of a loner, but when you do give someone your friendship, you're insanely loyal and protective..."

"I don't know what you're talking about..." Xander replied frigidly, his eyes narrowing on the vampire.

"Yes, you do. I've seen you do it, in the middle of fights. You used to use everything you had, and even with your normal human strength, you did damage. More than anyone I've ever seen. You're hard inside without being frozen, Xander, and that's why you've survived all those years on the Hellmouth instead of going insane or dieing. Willow had a bit of it, but not like you."

"Shut up, Angel." Xander hissed as he finished putting everything where it goes and turned to face him.

"I'm just saying-"

"Shut up, Angel..."

Angel nodded, was silent for a moment, then asked, "What happened in Sunnydale, Xander? What happened that made you come here?"

Xander didn't even blink at the subject change. He just answered gruffly, "I killed someone."

"Nigel Brondstaff, the Necromancer who was sent to kill you..." the souled vampire said knowingly.

"Yeah, him."

"And you think that something's wrong with you because you don't feel what you think you're supposed to..."

Xander, who had went back to absently fixing things in the car, spun quickly to face Angel.

"You feel bad that he's dead," Angel continued, "but you don't feel bad for killing him. You saw it as what you had to do, and when you did it, you weren't happy, but you realized that it was him or you...and you think you should have been devastated by what you did, but you're not. Because you were only defending yourself and the people you love."

Xander didn't even answer. All he did was stare at the vampire. There was nothing that could be said, nothing that would express what needed to be expressed. The only way Xander could tell him was to let him see it in his eyes. Angel saw, and nodded.

There was silence, and then Angel said, "As I said, you're a very dangerous person."

The quiet was long and loud in the alley, interrupted only when Cordy shouted, "We got the goat in!"

Xander and Angel turned to see the little creature sitting in the car, then they looked up to see Wesley, tired and a little worse for wear but smiling, and Cordy, who looked as perfect as can be with a wide grin on her face. "Tada!"

"Let's go!" Xander replied with a bright grin to Cordy. Then he hopped into the car.

Angel shook his head, then gave a small smile to his secretary and friend, then got in the car as well. He was driving, so he was pretty far from the goat. Thank goodness.

Cordy was in the front seat, along with Wesley, while Xander sat in the back with the goat and his case. As he put on his seatbelt, he heard a soft voice tell him.

"He's right, ya know..."

"Shut up, dead man floating..." Xander told Doyle, "It's my business, I'll deal with it, so leave me alone so that I can get you a body..."

"I'm just sayin'-"

"Quiet!"

The half-demon spirit backed off. He wasn't about to tick off the person who was getting him a body, but he knew the boy was hurting. Doyle figured he'd do something about it when he had a physical hand to help with, or whenever the kid asked.

That left Xander by himself to think. It was something he had tried to avoid since his arrival in LA, but now, with Angel's words ringing in his ears, he couldn't evade it any longer. He'd come here to deal with what he had done, yet all he had done was run away. But, the vampire had made him start his way back to his problems, and the truth of his words had rocketed him there quicker than was comfortable.

What Angel had said was true. So true, it frightened him. He wasn't upset at killing the man. He wasn't upset that he'd extinguished a human life. He was upset because he hadn't been upset, at least not to the point that he'd thought he should be. He'd expected he'd go insane, or maybe weep his eyes out, but none of that had happened. Just a second of holding the body till it's span ended, then a second more to soak in the reality of his deed. But no real remorse. Not a single bit of distress at what he'd done. And there should have been.

It frightened him, the lack of emotion at what he'd done. It frightened him to his core. He'd always been the normal guy, the zeppo, the guy-next-door, and he'd remained that way (mostly) even when Buffy had entered his life and flipped it upside down. And yes he had fought with all he had, and yes, he had always had no trouble with staking a vamp. But that was different. And then he'd gotten his powers, and he wasn't normal anymore. He was one of the weird people. And that-

The goat knocked him, and he glared at it. The little creature's eyes widened, then if moved back to its position. If Xander didn't know any better, he would have said the little goat was embarrassed. But that wasn't that important. He went back to his thoughts.

-he could deal with. He was okay with weird, he lived in the town which was listed next to "weird" in the dictionary. But then, he'd killed someone. And he hadn't felt a thing, other than a tinge of sadness at what he'd gone through. A slight anger that the man had made him kill. A bit or morbid wonder about what he had said at the very end, who he really was, what he'd extinguished. And that had been it.

But where did that leave him? What was he? He certainly wasn't the same Xander from a month ago. He was light-years from him in so many ways, but in others, he was the same. And the new parts weren't clicking with the old. It seemed to hit him every time, that he wasn't the same, that he wasn't normal any more. And then, he'd killed, and it made him wonder if he ever had been normal. Of if he had always been strange, a monster behind a mask. The fact that Angel was scared of him didn't help. Nor did the thought that, aside from Cordelia, all he'd ever attracted were demons, monsters, mummies, and bugs. Why couldn't he find love? Because he was a monster inside, unworthy of it? He didn't know. All this mixed in his mind, and left him very lost. What was he, and what was he going to do about it?

Xander finally turned to see Doyle, the spirit of the half-demon watching Cordelia with an odd expression on his face. The spirit must have felt eyes on him, because he turned immediately to look at Xander.

"I know 'ow it feels, friend..." the half-demon said slowly, trying not to upset the young Necromancer, "Ya feel like-"

"Like the monster's on the inside, and not on the outside..."

Doyle looked at Xander again. He hadn't expected the boy to put it so well. It was a feeling he was familiar with, and it was probably what had driven Harry away from him. While it had, (wonderfully) put him in reach of his love, Cordelia, he knew it wasn't a good thing to be thinking such thoughts. It had taken him a while, perhaps, he realized, up till the second Cordy wanted to date him, but he'd gotten over it. But if he snapped Xander out of it now, it wouldn't hold onto the boy, and wreck his life like it had his.

"It's notta crime, bein' able to do as ya do, ya know..." Doyle said, looking at his own hands instead of Xander's eyes, "And I'm not talkin' about yer powers..."

Xander turned and faced the spirit, confusion on his face.

"The good have ta be just as strong an' hard as the bad, if we're ever to win the battle. An' what you did wasn't bad. You were attacked, pushed inta a corner, an' you did what ya had ta...it's not tha act of a monster..."

"But-"

"No 'buts' about it, buster, you're a fine young man, an' I won't have you thinking badly of yerself." Doyle continued, trying to slam his fist into the arm rest, only to go through it, "The second he attacked ya, he gave up his rights, since he took yers. Don't ever be fooled, young man, inta thinkin' that all evil is from yer Hellmouth. Humanity, as a whole and on the one-to-one type level, can do some things that would make the worst o' demons cringe at the thought. So, don't hate yerself for something another did. You were the victim in alla this, even if he was the one that died. An' it's not the victims fault..."

Xander gazed into the half-demon's eyes, focusing so that he didn't look through them, and nodded. Then, as if to make sure the other got the message, Xander smiled, and even though it was small and a little sad, it told the spirit that the young man would be okay. It might haunt him on dark nights after a battle, or when he was feeling bad about something else, but it wouldn't become part of his life. It wouldn't be the boy's attitude about himself. It would be a worry, not an accepted truth. And that was all he wanted. The Necromancer was going to give him a body again, so making sure he was all right in the head was the least Doyle could do. Besides, he felt a sort of kinship with Xander, both of them having been thrust into a world they knew nothing about far too early and far too directly. And the kid was pretty hilarious when he wanted to be. In short, Doyle liked him.

The thoughts were cut short a second later as the car stopped. The familiar smell of salt-water, oil, and other things one tries not to think about permiated the air, and even Doyle could feel it tingle on his nose. Doyle turned to Xander, and watched as the boy's complete demeanor changed, becoming lighter and looser. They all got out of the car.

Xander looked to Angel, "Where is it?"

"That one" Angel answered, pointing to a large cargo ship on the end of the dock, "The Quintessa."

"Yes, I remember..." the young Necromancer grumbled. He wasn't stupid.

"Fine," Angel replied, sounding a little hurt. There was silence for a moment, and then...

"So let's go!" Cordy cried, grabbing the rope of the goat and tugging it out of the car.

"Yes, indeed," Wesley said, pulling on the ebony case. He had grabbed it with one hand, since he'd seen Xander lift it easily, but when he attempted to lift it, he nearly dislocated his arm. The former Watcher yelped in pain, and Xander came a second later. He pulled the case out effortlessly with a single lift, then smiled at Wes.

"Weight-reduction spell..." Xander supplied, liking the amazement in the bookish man's eyes, "keyed to me. Sorry for the lack of warning..."

"Quite" he snapped something in his arm back into place, "all right...now, let's get to business...I imagine this will be rather fascinating..."

"Oh, it will definitely be interesting, Wes," Xander said with a wink, "definitely..."

The former Watcher snorted, then walked over to join Angel and Cordelia, who were having a discussion with the captain of the ship. Xander walked over a minute later.

"And you'll be out within an hour? With that goat?" the gruff seaman asked as the cigarette stub in his mouth scattered ash upon the floor.

"An hour, at the most...and the goat will not be on your ship any longer than us..." Angel assured the captain with a rare smile, "We just need to finish a little something concerning the event that took place a few months ago..."

As he heard that, the other man's eyes widened, and he looked as if he wanted to run away but remembered that it was his boat. But he wasn't about to refuse the person, or non-person, in front of him passage on the boat for an hour. Considering the amount of money he owed Angel, he certainly wasn't going to refuse him anything. But he did want to know-

"There isn't going to be any trouble with those guys from before, are there? Cause I don't owe you enough for you to take a trip on here this time..."

"No,' Angel told them, 'No trouble. We're just collecting a friend..."

The captain looked at the vampire in confusion, but he knew that he really didn't want to know any more. So, grumbling a tiny bit about the bother of the visit, the captain moved aside and let the little group onto the ship. As they were walking along to the door, Xander asked, "Is there a bathroom I could use?" The seaman pointed towards a door, which Xander quickly went into, his case slipping in behind him. They waited for a minute or so, until Xander came out.

It almost didn't look like Xander when he came back out of the little room. His brightly colored clothes were gone, and a black robe of fine making had replaced them. It was of an airy, but excellent material, and it reached all the way down to his toes. The dark robe, in combination with his dark hair, seemed to make his skin glow slightly with a blue sheen and already his azure eyes were blazing with his own personal fire, showing all assembled that he had switched both mentally and physically to prepare for his task. The only thing that wrecked the image a bit was the tip of sneaker that was sticking out.

When the captain saw him, he reevaluated the young man on the spot as being someone to be wary of, and decided that he would be a bit more polite to both him, and the group as a whole.

"This way, sirs and madam..." the sailor said courteously, pointing to the door that led to the main hold, "You know your way for the rest, and I've got to get to my bed since we'll be leaving tomorrow..."

"Thanks, captain, I really appreciate it..." Angel told him, waving for him to go, "And you can consider your debt gone."

The captain smiled at that, then made his way back to his room, hoping that nothing bad happened to his ship. The second he was out of sight, the little party made its way through the portal and into the main hold. Without a word, Angel and Cordy directed the young Necromancer to the spot where Doyle's mortal body had been burned away, which still held a slight discoloration from the incident.

Before anyone could ask him anything, Xander pulled out his case, opening the ancient hinges slowly and noiselessly. No one spoke as he pulled out the boards and the chalk, and the silence continued as the young man in the robe proceeded to draw odd and complex symbols upon the wood. As each was completed, it seemed to glow with blue flame, dimming a moment later. Xander then continued by placing the boards next to one another in a specific order so as to create a palette of wood.

"Doyle, lie down on that with your head in the direction of the door..." he said quietly, no hint of emotion in his voice.

The spirit, unseen by all but Xander, did as asked, the symbols that hit his astral body illuminating for a second before fading. As he saw that all was going well, the young Necromancer pulled the small goat towards the boards. As he got it closer to him, he reached his hand out to touch the little creature between the eyes. A small black spark went from his hand to the goat's skull, and then suddenly, the goat collapsed. Xander picked up the animal and placed him on the palette, where Doyle was. The goat went through the area where the half-demon's spiritual heart and torso lay, making a rather odd site for the young man.

The vampire, the rogue demon hunter, and the seer watched Xander as he spread the graveyard dust around the boards in a perfect circle. Then, he stepped within the circle and began mixing things from various bottles in his case. After he had mixed the concoction into something that was a strange shimmering violet-green color, he pulled out a odd ebony knife and cut himself, allowing the blood to fall into the mixture. As the drops hit the liquid, it flared a bright blue, and the concoction itself turned a glimmering black, similar to a rare opal in the sun. A second later, Xander motioned for Angel and Cordelia. Wesley stayed outside.

The two of them did as they were asked, stepping into the circle of dust carefully so as not to disturb anything. Wordlessly, Xander directed them into joining hands around the palette. Then, he put the cup beneath Cordelia's finger. He looked up at her, at the face he had known all his life, a face he had thought he loved for a while, and waited for her to give the okay. A second later he got it in the form of a determined head-nod.

Cordy only gasped a little at the prick from the knife, and she watched almost in awe at the blood that ran down her own finger. Three drops hit the cup, each one flaring a deep red as it entered the mixture. Then Xander moved onto Angel, who immediately nodded to him, and the blood flowed into the cup once more. As it hit, the drops flickered that same dark red as before, but the flare was much more violent. When he finished with Angel, Xander pulled the cup back and began to mutter a string of bizarre words in a guttural language that sounded rather harsh to the ears, but which flowed smoothly off his tongue.

As he chanted, he nodded and gestured to the two that they should leave the circle, and they did as asked quickly. Without pause, he continued to recite, the power of the words he spoke thrumming through his body. He could feel his skin begin to flicker with the blue flames that were his to call, and his eyes, he knew, were blazing. Xander went on in that strange and throaty tongue as he stepped forward, towards the palette. Carefully, he placed a drop of the mixture upon the first board, making the symbols upon it flare up as they had when he'd drawn them. Then he moved to the next, and the next, till he hit the last board. Once the drop hit that last board, then went back to the middle area and poured the concoction down the throat of the knocked-out goat.

There was no reaction from the goat until he placed his hand on it. Then the little thing shook and convulsed; yet he kept his hand upon it. The words he spoke came faster then, but he never slurred a thing, and blue fire went from his hand into the goat. Doyle's invisible form watched, until he felt a pang of something that was not quite pain, despite the fact that he hadn't had a sense of touch or hurt since his partial death. The fire ran from the goat, into him, and then it really got weird.

At first Angel and the rest thought that the goat was moving; perhaps he'd woken up. But as they watched further, they saw the little creature begin to shift and change into something else. Something that was not a goat. The legs seemed to run down, as if the animal was made of clay, and lengthened. The arms did the same, and the head fell back and started to turn into something rounder. The body changed as well, twisting as the powers transformed it into something else entirely. The three spectators watched in amazement, their eyes widening. Yet Xander remained calm, and kept his hands on the torso as he spoke increasingly more complex and powerful words.

Cordy and the others were astounded to see the goat transform into the body of a human (or not really human) male that looked exactly like that of their fallen friend. Azure flames filled the circle, flaring in a huge bright outburst. When the flames died, the three saw the form of Allan Francis Doyle as it slowly woke. His eyes blinked, and his finger flicked, then a hand pulled down the blanket that Xander offered silently. A second later he stood up. As he adjusted himself, the young man spoke, now in English.

"He has been returned." Xander said solemnly, sounding nothing at all like the boy they all knew, "By the lifeblood of those who knew him, and the living dust which is all creatures, he is restored by the bearer of Azreal's Flame, by I, Alexander LaVelle. So mote it be."

The three of them watched as Xander tiredly kicked the circle, breaking its power. Then he moved the boards out of position and burned each one quickly with a white flame. There was no movement; everyone just stared. Finally, the young Necromancer finished, and put his hand upon Doyle's shoulder.

"Make her happy." He said quietly, "Be happy."

Doyle nodded, and then put his newly made hand upon Xander's shoulder. "Thanks, man. I know that musta cost you a bit...you'ra good man..."

Xander smiled a sad little smile, then shrugged. A second later, he pulled the half-demon into a hug. Doyle returned it, carefully making sure that his blanket stayed in place, yet smiling brightly.

The silence was broken by a screech from one Miss Cordelia Chase, who ran straight into Doyle and kissed him for all she was worth. The Irishman looked rather surprised, but mixed in with that was more joy than anything. It took him a moment, but he began to kiss back, doing exactly what he'd wanted to do since the day he'd seen her. As they did what they did, Angel walked over to Xander.

"Thanks," the vampire said gently, his eyes wet with tears that hadn't fallen yet, "You have no idea how much it means to us."

"Yeah, I do..." Xander replied, his voice soft as tears escaped his own eyes, "I know how much it hurts to lose a best friend, especially when you feel you could have saved him. It's been a while, but my friend, Jesse, will never be forgotten, and I wish to God that he'd had a similar situation so I could have done this for him. And not even that, I see how happy he makes you and Cordy, especially Cordy, and I know that I'll come to like him as well..."

Blue eyes met brown, and Xander continued, "I think, as long as I remember this, I'll never think I'm evil, a monster. I thank every deity I know, which I'll admit is only one, that I can do this now."

Angel put his hand upon the young Necromancer's shoulder, but apparently that was too much weight for him that night, since Xander began to crumple into the vampire's side.

"Whoa, you okay Xander?"

The young man looked up at Angel. "Just a little tired..."

"Then I think we should get you back to my place..."

"But-"

"No buts. My place. And I'm hoping that you'll move in, at least until you get started here, at my apartment, or Doyle's..."

Xander looked surprised, then pleased. "Thanks...", he said with earnest appreciation. He smiled, that lop-sided grin that Angel knew so well, and then he fainted.

Angel grunted as he caught the young man. He was heavier than he looked, though the vampire knew it wasn't fat; then again, they say muscle is heavier than fat. The vampire was holding him in a rather uncomfortable position, but it took him a second to correct that. As he finally adjusted the Necromancer over his shoulder, Doyle and Cordelia made it over.

"What happened to him?" Cordy asked, pointing to Xander's unconscious form.

"Passed out from exhaustion" Angel answered, rotating his shoulder to move the boy a bit, "What he just did was extremely draining, not to mention difficult..."

"Remind me to treat him to dinner." Said the Irishman, fully dressed in the clothes Cordy had kindly brought for him. Then he looked at his love again. "Maybe two..."

"And I'll chip in!" The young woman added. She was smiling so brightly, as if she could barely contain her joy. Then, it seemed to get away from her as she turned around and pulled Doyle into a totally unexpected kiss. The half-demon didn't seem to mind at all.

"Well, let's just get him back to the apartment," Angel told them both as they disengaged from one another, "We can thank him AFTER he gets some rest..."

The other two nodded, then headed towards the door. Doyle stopped and turned back, remembering about Xander's case. Angel couldn't carry the boy and his case at the same time, so he took his hand out of Cordy's (where it had unknowingly slipped) and began dragging the heavy ebony box out. Angel followed, then looked back at the one person who hadn't moved the entire time.

"Wesley, are you okay?"

The former Watcher seemed to come out of whatever trance he had been in. "Yes...yes, fine..."

The vampire, despite his load, walked over to the other man. "Wesley, are you sure you're all right? You look a little shaken..."

Wesley held silent for a moment, looking at first at Angel, then the door which Doyle and Cordy had exited, then at Xander. Finally, his gaze returned to the vampire and he spoke.

"I'm a complete waste now, aren't I?" he said quietly, the dignity he tried to maintain in his voice slightly overpowered by a quiver, "You have your hero back, and now young Xander can help you with his special power, and you don't need me..."

Angel's eyes widened. How could Wesley think like that?

"Wes, Doyle doesn't replace you, " the souled vampire assured, "And we all have skills that can be helpful to the mission. Cordelia, bless her soul, can't be a secretary for her life, but she helps not only with her visions, but her caring. The number of times her cheeriness or her silliness has helped us, I don't know. And Doyle has his good points, but he has nowhere near the knowledge of demons and languages that you do. As for Xander, look at him! For years, he was the normal guy, the man without any sort of supernatural powers, and he still fought every time he could. He helped with his laughter, and his loyalty, and his strength. And you do too..."

The vampire went silent, allowing the former Watcher to absorb everything he had said.

"And" Angel continued, "Besides, you're my friend..."

Wesley's eyes widened at that statement. He' d never suspected that. Sure, Angel had employed him, but then he'd been in trouble at the time, and well...in short, Wesley had thought himself as sort of more tolerated than anything. And now, to think that-

"You're a good guy, Wesley...one I trust to cover my back. We're a team...and we don't kick people off the team because we got a new player. There isn't a set limit on the amount of help I can get, and I need ALL I can get..."

"I...understand..." he answered, a small smile forming on his lips, "and thank you for telling me that..."

The vampire gave him a rare grin, then heaved the unaware form of Xander back to it's spot on his shoulder. "Hey, you needed to hear it."

The smile broadened on the former Watcher's face, and after nodding to Angel, he walked out the door. Angel, that odd grin still on his face, followed.

They made their way to the car, but instead of Cordy and Doyle making out in the back seat, he found them both knocked out. Wesley was beside them, the large red welt on his forehead giving Angel an idea as to what had happened to all three. Immediately, he tensed and looked around, trying to figure out who had attacked them, not to mention why they had only knocked the three out. He got his answer a second later.

"Give us the boy..." said a voice from the shadows.

Angel turned around to where the voice had come and stared into the darkness, trying to figure out who or what had spoken.

"Give us the boy now!" repeated the voice with more heat, "Your friends are out cold. You are only one. The Necromancer cannot help you. Give him to us, and you may live..."

"Who are you?" Angel asked, both out of curiosity and a need to stall.

"I" said the voice as it walked out of the shadows to reveal itself as a rather nasty-looking demon, "am a representative of Wolfram & Hart, here to collect one of our employees. Now hand him over."

Angel looked at the demon, then turned his head to glance at Xander. There was no hope for help there. Then he looked at the three in the car. Again, not a chance. This demon was smart. A great deal smarter than the vampire from earlier.

"Why do you want him? He's just a dopey kid!" Angel lied, trying to perhaps buy a little bit more time.

"Please don't lie" the demon said icily, "He is the last Necromancer alive, a rather strong one as well, who we all know he is not just some 'dopey kid'. Now, hand him over or I will take him. And I don't guarantee that you'll live through the experience."

Angel seemed to think this over, then leaned Xander gently on the side of the car. Then, he pulled a rather nasty-looking axe from within his car, and turned to face the demon.

"No."

As he said it, the demon launched itself at him, talons out and ready. Angel swept to the side, which brought the creature crashing into the car. It recovered quickly enough to dodge the ax-blow from Angel and sideswipe him into the car himself. The souled vampire bounced off the side, and tried to recover, but the thing was faster. It knocked him in the head, sending him spinning to the ground.

Angel rolled just quick enough to avoid a foot crunching his head, but not quick enough avoid its companion, a rather nasty kick to the side. Yet Angel got up, and slammed his ax into the creature's gut. The creature doubled over, and the vampire was about to hit it over the head, when it flipped back up and whacked him in the chin. It was a hard knock, with the demon's leg muscles behind it, and it Angel was reeling. The demon saw this as an opportunity to grab the target, and ran.

Angel recovered, and went after the thing, but it was too fast, and his head was swimming anyway, so it got away. Upset and angry, the souled vampire made his way back to the car. This was bad.

When he got there, he found that his friends were starting to wake up. Doyle first, then Cordy, and finally Wesley let out moans of pain, and put their hands to their heads almost at the same time. Questioning eyes hit him almost accusingly.

"They took Xander." He informed them unhappily as he put a hand to his aching head, "Wolfram & Hart took Xander."

**

Xander woke up in a dark, unfamiliar place. The air was hot and humid, and seemed to smell of rotting wood, but it was so dark he could not tell what the size of the room was. From general feeling, he thought it was perhaps eight by eight, but he couldn't be sure. It was just too dark. It was so dark that Xander hadn't even been sure his eyes were open at first.

It then occurred to him that he was a Necromancer. And as a Necromancer, he had control of Azrael's Flame. But as he tried to get a small Coldfire started, unbelievable pain wracked his body, and he immediately stopped. He shook his head, wondering what in the world could have produced the throbbing pain. So as soon as he recovered, he tried again, only to feel that mind-numbing lightning in his brain once more.

Yet, despite the pain, he saw light. But it was not a Coldfire. It was an opening in what he had just realized must be a large box. A little, mailbox-like opening where two blue eyes were staring in at him. Xander, still reeling from the pain, quickly jumped back and hit his back against the other side of the box.

"I wouldn't try that again, kid..." said a cold male voice from the opening, "We've got you in some expensive binding spells..."

It was then that Xander realized that he had something around his wrists. With the small amount of light coming through the opening, Xander's darkness-adjusted eyes could just make out two large metal cuffs that, while not connected by a chain, were wrapped around his wrists.

"I wouldn't try breaking them..." the man said, moving his head, which let Xander see a bit more of the face and some of the dark blonde hair, "They were made especially to bind your powers, making them useless, and any attack on them will give you even more pain then that attempt at Coldfire from before."

"Who are you?" Xander asked at last, his voice a bit ragged from sleep, "Why am I locked up?"

The eyes in the window widened, but not in surprise. More like pleasure.

"I" the man said in an amused tone, "am a rather interesting chap by the name of Lindsey. You don't really need to know my last name, at least not yet. Maybe after your training, then we can get into last names."

"Fine, Lindsey..." Xander spat, "Now, why am I locked up in this damn box?"

"Because you chose the hard way." Lindsey told him, "We were perfectly willing to pay you good money, give you great health and dental, and several paid vacations, but you had to go the hard way. Don't get me wrong, you'll still get all that and more if you prove anywhere near as good as you're supposed to be, but now you'll have to go through a lot of pain for that..."

Xander soaked it all in, then turned hateful eyes towards the other man. "This is Wolfram & Hart, isn't it?"

The young Necromancer could see the man on the other side of the opening chuckle, though he only barely heard it. "Well, aren't you the smart one?"

Xander didn't answer that. He just kept looking at the cuffs upon his wrists. In the little bit of light, he could see complex symbols carved into the metal of the manacles. He wondered what it said, and who had made them. He wondered why they had been created, and how these people had gotten them. But most of all, he wondered how the hell he could get them off.

Lindsey must have noticed where Xander was looking, and he smiled. "Good luck with those. There's no way in hell you're getting out of them without the key, which only the senior partners have right now. Now, I must be going. Little ceremony on the lawn to attend, very important. Be seein' ya'!"

And on that cheery note, the man closed the hatch, leaving Xander in that horrible darkness again.

**

"What happened, Angel?" Cordelia asked, her voice calm and cool despite how upset she looked. The other two asked him the same question with their eyes.

"A demon...maybe a Fyarl demon, though he didn't try to mucus me at all and he could complete sentences, so I'm not sure, knocked you out, then tried to make me give him Xander. I refused, we fought, I lost, he took the kid, and now Wolfram & Hart has him."

"Damn." Doyle said quietly, staring at the alley that Angel had returned from.

"And you're saying that they want to employ him?" Wesley asked, his hand upon his chin.

"Yes," the vampire answered, "And who knows what their gonna do with him. I mean, we still haven't figured out that scroll yet, right, Wes?

"No, not entirely. I was almost finished when the young man walked in, and then I was so occupied with obtaining the supplies-"

"I get it, Wes..." Angel said, his voice filled with aggravation and anger. The kid had come to help them, and all they'd done was to get him kidnapped, "Now, we're gonna have to get some help."

"From who?" Cordy exclaimed, "That Lindsey guy got promoted! He isn't going to help us again, especially since they promoted him..."

Angel nodded absently, and then continued thinking. Who could they ask? Gunn wouldn't be able to help this time. They didn't need weapons, they needed stealth. They needed some magickal help to recover Xander...who, the vampire finally remembered with a smile, is a LaVelle...

"Give me Xander's case, Wes?" Angel asked. The former Watcher did as asked. Luckily for them, Xander, in his fatigue and haste to leave, hadn't closed both clasps, so Angel could open it. As soon as he did, he looked to the several books on the right side, looking for one that looked different. On the bottom 'shelf' he found exactly what he had been looking for.

"What's that then?" Doyle asked as Angel pulled a small brown leather book from the case, "One 'ah Xander's books? I don'nah think we can do any 'ah those things..."

"No" Angel replied triumphantly, "It's a listing of every living LaVelle, complete with phone number and address for each."

Cordy looked at the book. "That's huge! How big is that family?"

"Very large..." Wesley began with that teacherly tone he got every once in a while, "Some believe that the LaVelles might in fact number over seven hundred, which would ind-"

"I get it, Wesley..." Cordelia said tiredly. Then she turned to Angel. "Anybody in L.A.?"

Angel smiled as he showed the others the page he was at. There, written in very modern blue ink was written two names under the heading "Los Angeles". One Kathy LaVelle Finch and one Martin LaVelle. The addresses were there too, both around ten minutes away.

"But do you think they will help us?" Wesley asked.

Doyle looked at the former Watcher as if he was crazy. "A'course, ya' fool! He's a LaVelle, an' the family Necromancer ta boot. Real important. LaVelles fight for their own...it's what they're known for!"

"Then lets get going!" Cordy said, pushing Angel into the driver's seat.

"Good idea..."

The four of them got to the first apartment within ten minutes. It was a rather nice building, in a good part of the city, which seemed very bright and cheery despite the night they were having. When they got to the door, the four found the small buzzer system. After locating the apartment number, Angel rang the buzzer, and a pleasant male voice asked them who they were.

"My name is Angel. I'm a private investigator, and a good friend of a young man by the name of Alexander LaVelle Harris. Could we speak to you please?"

There was a pause on the other side, and the vampire's sensitive hearing could pick up the man's breathing over the intercom. It sounded rather nervous. Then again, strange people asking about your family in the middle of the night was something worthy of getting nervous. Angel knew that he had to give this one a little nudge if they were going to get in.

"He's in a bit of trouble, sir, and I have a feeling you can and will help us..."

There was no answer, but a second later, they heard the buzz that told them they could open the door. Cordelia, Doyle, and Wesley walked in, however, Angel was stopped at the threshold.

"Uh, guys? Could you invite me in?"

"Sure," Cordy answered as she walked towards the elevator, "Come in, Angel..."

Angel nodded his thanks, and then followed the two to the elevator door. They pushed the number they wanted, then the four of them fell into a glum silence. It took a minute, but the little box arrived, and the group stepped in. As it began lifting, Doyle broke the silence.

"This is all me fault..." The Irishman said miserably, "If he haddna done the ritual fer me, Xander wouldna be in this mess..."

"It's not your fault, Doyle." Angel assured him tiredly, "It's mine. I was so happy to see you back, I let my guard down, and then I let him be taken!"

The former May Queen turned around to face the two of them, "No. You, Brood-meister cannot take the blame for this one. It was me that wanted him to do the damn thing tonight..."

"Enough!" Shouted Wesley, far too loud for the little elevator, "It's no one's fault but those bloody bastards at Wolfram & Hart, so stop squabbling about who's bloody fault it is that he's gone, and let's put our minds to finding a way to getting him back!"

The three others looked at the ex-Watcher in shame and embarrassment, and then seemed to lighten up a bit. In fact, a smile broke Cordelia's face. But there was not more time to talk, because the elevator had stopped at their floor.

The half-demon, the vampire, the seer, and the rogue demon slayer walked out of the elevator and quietly made their way to apartment 7D. Angel knocked, and the voice they had heard earlier from the intercom shouted at them rather disagreeably that he would be there in a minute. They waited, and as promised, the door opened a moment later. No one was directly behind the door, opening it, but a few seconds later they saw Martin.

The man in the apartment was rather handsome, with dark brown eyes that reminded Cordelia of Xander's. His hair was blonde, his skin fairly tanned, and he looked to just a little shorter than Angel. If the young woman hadn't already found her true love in Doyle, she would have asked for this guy's number. But that wasn't important right now.

"All right," the man asked, sounding a bit angry and more than a little suspicious, "Now, what is this all about?"

"May we come in?" Angel asked, trying not to make the question sound too desperate, "I don't think you want to discuss Family business out in the hall..."

Martin looked the four over, seemingly scanning them before they entered his home. He seemed the most suspicious of Angel, yet he nodded and answered with a gruff, "Come in..."

They did as told, yet remained standing. They looked around the room, which was tastefully decorated in a sort of Victorian look. Yet it seemed to miss something, one element that didn't seem to be there. It took a minute, but Cordelia figured it out: there was not a single item made of glass. They were interrupted from their looking around by Martin, who had settled in a comfortable looking chair. He looked up and growled at them to sit. They did.

"Now, once more, what is all this about?" Martin LaVelle asked, his hands on his knees in a slightly distrustful way.

"Xander's been kidnapped by the law firm of Wolfram & Hart ..." Angel said bluntly, much to the other's dismay. The LaVelle didn't get up or shout, but it was obvious that he was deeply rocked by this news, perhaps more so than one would think.

"Ambrose's boy?" Martin asked, though Angel thought that he was maybe a little young to be calling Xander a 'child', "As in-"

"The family Necromancer..." Doyle finished, sighing tiredly. He was truly worried about the young man. Who knew what kind of horrible things they would do to Xander, the person who had returned him to life and given him a chance to love again?

There was silence for a moment, and then Martin's fist went flying into the coffee table in rage. In unison with his swing, a few objects on the wall rattled, and a wooden bowl flew off of the dining room table. Angel caught it with deft skill. No one said a word. The little fit of anger had revealed what this LaVelle's power was. Everyone just watched as the man got up and began to pace nervously around his living room, finally turning to Angel. But before he said a word, the former Watcher but in.

"You're a telekinetic, aren't you?" Wesley asked politely, "That is your, um, talent..."

The young man nodded in a distracted way, but he didn't say a word. Obviously he was thinking about the situation, and rather seriously.

"This is not good..." Martin said at last, his voice rough and ragged with worry, "I'll help you as best I can with my power, but if we screw this up, it could start a war...we can't be clumsy...this has to have as little confrontation as possible..."

This left the four others completely confused. "War?"

Martin looked to the strangers with a surprised expression. "Don't you know? Wolfram & Hart is run by the Brondstaffs..."

"Oh dear..."

**

Xander was glad he'd been moved into a cage. It didn't really help him to escape; Lord knew he had even less chance of escaping the cold steel than the heavy wood. But now at least there was light, a he wasn't as suffocated by dankness as he had been in that damned box. All in all an improvement. In fact, Xander was beginning to get comfortable (well, as comfortable as one can get while imprisoned) when the pain hit.

Sweat poured down his face as the mind-numbing sensation ran up and down him, causing him pain such as he'd never known before. He couldn't even compare the feeling to anything, not even the previous discomfort he'd felt when he'd tried to use his powers. And, now that this was running through his nerves, Xander knew that what he'd thought was pain before was just discomfort. Now, he was feeling pain. True, agonizing, soul-wrenching pain.

It felt as if every inch of his body was being yanked in different directions while he was skinned alive. But nothing was actually happening to him, and the nerves themselves stayed intact. Then he felt something being ripped from him. Something that had become a part of who he was. His power.

His power was being ripped out of him for some reason, leaving pain and emptiness. Xander couldn't stand it. He couldn't take it. No more. Not any longer. He blacked out.

##

Xander woke up shortly, and after making sure that all limbs and body parts were where they were supposed to be, realized something. He wasn't alone.

Moving slowly so as not to cause any more pain, the young necromancer picked himself off from the floor he had fallen onto and looked around the room. There. The...presence was in there, in the box that had at one time been his holding place. It was a strong presence, with the faint auric scent of Hell and something else. And a very definite feeling to it, not to mention a lack of life. A vampire. There was a vampire in the box.

"Hello?" Xander said softly, not wanting to alarm whoever or whatever was in the box. He didn't know anything about the vampire, but Xander was pretty sure that they had done what they'd done to him in order to get the creature in the box straight out of hell.

The answer wasn't in words; it was just a growl. A frightened, obviously female growl.

"Hi..." he said, hoping he sounded friendly despite his extreme anger at being put through what he had been, "Um...My name is Xander. Xander Harris, and I'll be your prison mate for this evening...um, are you okay?"

This time, there was no growl, but there was a movement in the box. Something he had said must have made the thing curious. The young necromancer wondered what, and tried his hardest to look through the bars in the small (now opened) windows of the box to figure out exactly what was in there. All he could make out in the darkness of the box was a lone figure who looked to be on the nude side. The figure moved toward the window.

"Are you okay in there?" Xander asked again, "And do you want some clothing?"

The figure cocked it's head in the darkness, and then Xander heard an affirmative growl as he watched the head nod. Xander took off the outer robe he was wearing over his light shirt and jeans, then bunched it up so that it was small enough to go through the bars of both her cage and his. Then he held the garment out for her.

The creature moved quickly, and then Xander watched as a feminine arm reached out of the box to take the robe. Luckily, or perhaps not, as she came to the window to take his gift, Xander was able to make out parts of the face and he could see the blonde hair shine in the low light. He knew who it was now, amazingly enough. He'd never forget that face, or the pain it had caused him.

"Darla." It was a statement. No need for a question, even though he was sure that she had been staked over three years ago. Staked by Angel, who definitely knew staked well enough to do it right. At yet, here she was. The pieces fell into place.

"They used me to get you back, didn't they?" he asked her, even though she hadn't said a word back to him, acknowledging him, "They ripped the power, quite painfully I might add, from me to bring you back from Hell. Great."

There was silence for a moment as Xander wait for a response. Finally, one came.

"Well," came the familiar voice, raspy from who knew what, "I certainly appreciate it. But how?"

Again, it was quiet. Then the young man spoke up. "I'm a necromancer. Last one, actually...a LaVelle..."

He heard a laugh. The laugh was tired, and strained, but it was there, filling the room with its humorless tone.

"I knew it. I knew there was more to you than that wimpy Slayer and her dim wit Watcher ever knew. I could feel it."

Xander glared at the bars which held him in, then down at the cuffs which stopped him from using his powers. He hated those cuffs. A chance to kill her, the bitch who had made him slay his best friend, and he couldn't. He had the power to make her a slave, and he couldn't because of the damned cuffs.

"That's nice..." he said through clenched teeth, "Good thing you didn't tell me, or I would've tried every single painful spell on you one by one."

She didn't answer.

"You have no idea how much I hate you..." Xander continued, his face contorted in hatred as his eyes lit with blue fire, "How angry I was with Angel to hear that you were dead. Because I wanted to be the one to kill you. I wanted to kill you! I wanted to stake you in the heart and watch you turn to dust. Watch as the little particles fell to the ground, never to be remembered..."

She didn't answer.

"You know, of all of the evil things in Sunnydale, you were the only one I hated. Really, truly, hated with a passion. The bug lady...I was kind of flattered. The Master...just your basic 'rule-the-world' bad guy. But you...you took one of my best friends from me. And not only that, you made him a vampire like yourself, so I had to stake him. Me. I had to push the wooden stake into his heart and watch as the guy I'd known practically since birth exploded into dust bunnies. All because you had to play damned power games with the Slayer and your beloved Angel!"

Again she didn't answer, which made an already enraged Xander even more mad.

"Answer, you bitch!" he cried, sounding almost desperate, "Answer me, you goddamned conniving, evil, vampiric bitch! Answer me!"

"YES!!" came the pained shout from the box, "Yes, I did it all!"

And then Xander heard something he couldn't believe. "Yes, I admit it. Now, please, Master, stop!"

"Master?" Xander asked, completely shocked out of his anger by her words. He looked down at his chains to check that they were still on. Yup, still holding him here in this hell-hole. So, how was he controlling her?

"I...I have control over you?" he asked her. When she responded with a nod, he commanded, "Come to the window."

She did as commanded, and Xander smiled. This was what he wanted. Darla, as his slave. He could do what he wanted to the demonic bitch. Oh, she would pay...He didn't know how he had bypassed the shackles which held his power, but he was going to use it to the fullest advantage he could.

"Now, when I hold out my hands, I want you to rip apart the shackles on my arms..."

end part 1