Chapter One: The Uncle

Disclaimer: Own nothing and no one used herein.
Title: Falcon and Fledge
Author: Kate R.
Pairings: N/A so far
Summary: Xander gets a new guardian who knows a lot of things about the supernatural and fighting
Notes: Inspired by Calia's latest challenge: I'll give Xander a new guardian, and I won't bash Giles but I can't do the other things. One has to give respect to get it and Xander never respected anyone. That Joss himself stated, just like he stated Xander was the lovable idiot of the show. If you want this before season three, sorry, he wasn't that smart. Especially not about people since he judged by appearances. I won't make him dumber than Joss had him though and, I will give a way that stupidity is not his fault so just try reading it all the way through.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

His uncle was intimidating a hell. An Arab man with a warrior's bearing, tattoos on his face and hands, trailing up his arms although he'd never seen the ones beyond his wrists. Not even when he'd been a little boy. Ardeth never took his robes of then, either, he was remembering.

He'd forgotten everything he'd used to know. Ardeth seemed saddened by it. Apparently before Tony decided to belt him into a wall or five he'd been able to read Ancient Egyptian and Arabic, he could speak Arabic and Ancient Egyptian, too. And he'd only been eight at the time. Why couldn't he remember? He thought maybe if he could he wouldn't feel so useless all the time.

Ardeth. He could remember Ardeth now. Three days before it had clicked that he did know this man and not just as some distant relative. He'd met him. He'd known him as a small child, the man had saved his life, the man had helped save him from his own impetuous nature and stupidity of putting on a bracelet he had no idea what did.

Ardeth had been right: it nearly had brought about the next apocalypse. He had nearly ended the world because he'd been too much like his mother, too much into touching things that really ought to have been left alone. He remembered what Ardeth told him about Imhotep. How his mother had woken a three thousand year old dead guy because she'd disregarded a warning and read from a book. Oh, yeah, that was really smart of her. No harm ever came from opening or reading a book . . . yeah, right. Sure it hadn't. Just like a bracelet couldn't nearly cause the end of the world.

Sighing, he walked down to the breakfast table where his uncle, his father's half brother he remembered, finally, was eating a breakfast of fruit and cream. Uncle Ardeth never ate heavy. He remembered that finally, because Uncle Ardeth lived in the desert heat and you couldn't eat heavy or you'd be ill there.

He sat down and made a bowl of the same things, realizing his uncle had been trying to meet him half way since he'd come to take care of him. His favorite junk foods were in the closets but his uncle never touched them. There was no alcohol in this house although there was any kind of soda Xander had said he wanted.

"This stuff really keeps you going better than candy bars?" Xander asked. Ardeth nodded.

"You may find granola sweeter," Ardeth told him, "I tend to make my own with honey instead of sucrose. We do not have such modern things as preservatives where I live."

"That's cool," Xander said, taking an apple and biting into it. Eating healthy was something he'd never done since his father's death, not because he didn't want to, but because his mother didn't cook.

He found, as he ate what his uncle was eating, that he really liked the tastes.

"Hey, this is really good."

"Enjoy it," his uncle said with a smile, "You may have as much of it as you like."

"What else do you eat?" Xander asked.

"Mostly fruits and such, some meats but it would have to be dried by me before I'd use it. Slim Jim's are not the same as real jerky."

"If we got some good meat, could you make jerky?" Xander asked.

"Indeed," Ardeth told him, "But, Alex . . . excuse me, Xander, the food is only part of what gives me energy and strength."

"You can call me Alex," Xander told him, "I remember more. I know hearing 'Alex' from you always made me feel safe. And I know you’ve been trained all your life, you have a build most professional wrestlers would kill for and you could probably put Buffy on her ass. I figure what gives you your energy is the same thing that gives your strength: how you take care of your body. When . . . when are we leaving for Egypt?"

"We aren't," Ardeth told him. Xander looked up, shocked.

"We're not?"

"No. This is your home, Alex. I was in a bad mood when I snapped at you. I do disapprove of your attitude and those of your friends but I do not think taking you away from your life into the harshness of mine will help it any. It would likely make it worse. I have told my people where I am. They can reach me if they need me."

"So . . . what do I do now?"

"I suppose I take you back to your school and re-register you there. I would prefer to use your real last name if you'd like, though."

"Dad's?" Xander asked, "Yeah. I remember I like it better. That's why Tony hit me so much. He hated that I kept writing O'Connell when asked to write my name in school."

"That is your name though," Ardeth remarked.

"Yeah, it is," Xander told him, "Alex O'Connell. Do you think I'll ever get back everything I used to know? Before Tony slammed me like he did?"

"If you work at it, yes" Ardeth told him, "If you like, we can start again on those languages."

"I'd like that," Xander told him, "I have a feeling I used to be really good at things and I miss it. I don't know what it is, but I know I miss it."

"Then I will help you find it. I will teach you the languages you once knew and I will teach you the past and the lore you once had great passion for. I will teach you proper use of weapons but not yet. A good mind is far better than a skilled blade."

Something about that rang true with Xander. He'd remembered that his father was smart. Not smart like Ardeth was, but clever smart. Creative smart.

"Are there times when you have to fight?" Xander asked him.

"Yes," Ardeth told him, "But not every confrontation had to end in death, Alex. Not ever demon you meet is evil. Not even every vampire."

"You mean Angel, don't you?"

"I don't know Angel," Ardeth told him, "But if you say the absence of a soul makes one evil, you are in grave error."

"How can you know?"

"Adolph Hitler had a soul."

To that, there was no answer. And Xander knew it. One thing he'd learned from this uncle was that the man was bluntly and brutally honest if he wanted to make you face a point. He was cold and vindictive when he had to be, fierce in battle against true evil, and brutal in keeping people away from the city of the dead. That Xander had remembered. His father's tales of what the Medjai did to those who trespassed and ignored the warnings to leave.

"Why didn't you kill my parents or my Uncle Jon?" Xander asked him, suddenly.

"I was sick of the killing," Ardeth told him, "And I felt . . . I don't know, exactly, something when I met your father's eyes. A connection. We were brothers but we did not know at that time. He was elder but I rule because I am the legitimate one. I think, perhaps, some part of me recognized him and so would not kill my blood."

"Oh," Xander remarked, "So, we’re going to give me back my real name? For school and all?"

"Yes," Ardeth told him, "And perhaps I will allow you partial access to your inheritance. I really shouldn't before you're eighteen but you need new clothes and such."

"And you'd let me have my money for it?"

"It is your money. I have not touched it despite your father leaving me part of it. He knew, I think. He stated in his will half was to go to you and half to be split between Jonathan and me."

"With Uncle Jon dead," Xander told him, "I want you to take the other quarter. I have a feeling half of my father's fortune would be enough to live on for five or six lifetimes and he wanted you to have some money. It's yours by right, no matter what you'll try to say and I won't take no for an answer."

"All right, Alex," Ardeth said, "I will not argue."

"Good," Xander told him, "So, how about we dress you for this country? I know your robes are important to your Medjai-ness but you're in America and, well, I think you might like jeans."

"As you wish," Ardeth told him, "But I reserve the right to choose my own clothes."

"Deal," Xander told him, "When can we put me back in school?"

"Today if you like," Ardeth told him, "We can go over and re-register you. You can start today or tomorrow."

"How about we go tomorrow and I take you shopping today. I know you have to have access to the accounts to have bought this house."

"I used Medjai money to purchase and furnish this house, Alex," Ardeth told him, "But you are correct. I do have the ability to access the accounts. Yours has a limit per day on it because you cannot take more than a hundred thousand a year."

"How much are we worth together?"

"Twenty million American dollars," Ardeth told him, "Your father had wealth from some digs he was on and some things he got from Hamunaptra that were his by right."

"You knew they had it, didn't you?" Xander asked.

"Indeed,"Ardeth nodded, "And I allowed them to take it."

"So we have about ten million a piece, huh?" Xander asked. Ardeth nodded again.

"When you turn eighteen the spending cap will come off but I hope you never need to spend more than a hundred thousand in a year."

"You and me both," Xander breathed, "So, let's go shopping."

"All right," Ardeth said, letting Xander lead him out, "Do you have your driver's license?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You drive then," Ardeth told him tossing him a set of car keys. When Xander saw the car he just gaped. It was his dream car. Fast and sleek and beautiful.

"Is this yours?" Xander asked.

"No, Alex," Ardeth told him, "It's yours. Happy birthday."

Xander froze as he realized what day it was. He was sixteen today. He could legally drive without an adult in the car with him. And he had a car of his own. A beautiful car that he'd drooled over in magazines for years.

"You are too cool!" Xander exclaimed. Ardeth laughed.

"I am not without heart, Alex," Ardeth told him, "But if I am going to teach you the old languages my requirement is that you apply yourself, seriously, in regular school. No more shortcuts through your friend Willow, no more slacking off because you're bored. None of it. Your father would kick you from the grave if he could for that."

"I promise," Xander whispered, knowing how serious promising Ardeth Bey something was. Ardeth was a king and you did not break an oath you made to a king.

"Will you get a falcon to use while you're here?" Xander asked, having remembered that Ardeth always had a bird in the past.

"I sent for Ra," Ardeth told him, "I can teach you falconry, too, if you'd like."

"I would," Xander told him as he parked at the entrance to Sunnydale Mall. He got out, as his uncle did, and they walked in the main doors.

"So, where do you wish to go first?" Ardeth asked.

"Eddie Bauer," Xander told him, "We are 'so' getting you into jeans ASAP."

"Ra, preserve me," Ardeth teased as he let Xander lead him around.

He'd known when he'd agreed to come that he'd have to make decisions on the fly and he knew the road would likely be bumpy at the start because of what he'd been told about Alex and the suspected head injuries and what they'd done to him, but thankfully, the damage didn't seem to be too bad. He knew if they worked at it he could get Alex back to where he was. But, only if Alex would meet him half way. So far, he seemed to be amenable to that. So far.

Ra alone knew, however, what the future would bring.