Note : Takes place during 'Amends'
 
 

River

His mom always said it was because they were too alike. Xander couldn't think of a more horrifying idea. Nor a truer one. Neither of you would be able to keep that big mouth shut if someone was holding a knife to your throats. That's what she would always tell them both. And the scary part was that she was right.

The older he got, the more of his father he started to recognise in himself, sometimes so much that he found himself hanging over the toilet bowl puking his guts out. There was one difference between them though, the single realisation enough to keep him going most of the time. And that was that Xander would sooner kill himself, or considering the opportunities walking the nightly streets of Sunnydale, get himself killed than turn into the parody of the man his father was.

One time, when he was very small, five or six maybe, he'd come to the brilliant deduction that if he kept himself very quiet, tried to make himself invisible, did or said nothing his father could somehow use as an excuse to start in on him again, they could maybe have a family dinner like every other family. One that didn't end in screaming and punching each other. That was a lesson he'd learned the hard way too. He could still remember his mother hanging her entire weight on her husband's arm, trying desperately to hold him back, her frantic shrieks still ringing in his ears. "You're gonna kill him! You're gonna kill him!"

She'd never interfered on his behalf before. She never did again.

Now of course he knew better. He knew that it wasn't just a case of 'Will something set him off?', but simply of 'What will set him off this time?' It could be something big, like getting laid off at work, or something totally banal, like his mom not putting enough salt in the potatoes. It was anybody's guess what it would be this time. The only constant on which they could depend, was that it would happen.

That's when the yearly tradition had started. Not that Christmases were particularly worse than other occasions, it was just the one time of year when Xander couldn't face it. Peace on earth and all that shit. Wasn't that supposed to actually mean something? And avoidance had always worked for him.

There was an accusatory glint in his mother's eyes as she stood in the hallway, watching him arrange his schoolbag across his shoulder and clutch his sleeping bag to his chest like a life raft. 'Go ahead,' her eyes were telling him, 'abandon me. Leave me to face him alone.'

And that was another yearly tradition, the pang of guilt he felt at doing exactly that. Not enough to stay though. She'd made her choice years ago, not only to serve as his punching bag, but to allow him to do the same to her son. If either of them should be feeling guilt, it wasn't him.

"Night, mom." He tried to make his voice sound as light as he could possibly make it, bending closer to kiss her cheek. "Have a nice Christmas."

"Yeah, fat chance," she muttered back, her eyes shooting fire at him, when suddenly she seemed to pull herself together, a bright smile lighting up her face. Xander steeled his heart against what he knew was the next phase in their annual play. And he wasn't wrong, his eyes closing of their own accord as she gently stroked his cheek.

"Stay, Lexie," she urged, the warmth in her voice almost making her sound like a genuinely caring mother, if Xander hadn't heard that particular tone enough times not to be fooled by it. Besides, that nickname always managed to raise his hackles faster and more thoroughly than any verbal abuse could. It reminded him too much of a time when he could still love her. "I've made your favourite."

Number Thirty-Two at the Hong Kong Garden?

He didn't say it though. She was already in for enough heartache tonight, without him adding more. More than his betrayal already did, that was. Pasting a cocksure grin on his face, he patted the bag at his side confidently. "Got the supplies. Got the dirty mags. I'm all set."

"You'll freeze outside." Another attempt at changing his mind, her fingers running through his hair.

Total nonsense of course. They hadn't had a white Christmas in Sunnydale since the Ice Age. "Only if I sleep inside a meat locker, mom." She was trying to stall, he did realise that, but why did they have to go through this every year? She knew he wasn't gonna stay. They both did. "I'll be fine," he assured, giving in to his need to comfort her and hugging her briefly to him. If either clung on a little tighter or with a little more desperation, neither of them wanted to acknowledge it. "See ya tomorrow!" Pulling the door behind him with determination, he shut himself and his heart off to those pleading eyes.

And found himself quite at a loss as to where to go. It had never been a stomper to him before. Outside Willow's place, right under that tree in their front yard. Except this year, with everything that had happened between them, not to mention the tentative reconciliation between her and Oz, it wasn't looking like such a hot idea. His feet seemed to have made up his mind for him, because when he looked up again, he recognised Buffy's house, the lights in the tree shining through the front room window. She and her mom needed all the time together they could get, so there was no way he would crash on their little party. Clearing his mind of all thought, he let his feet do all the thinking for him again, not particularly surprised when he looked down on the top step leading down to Giles' front door.

It was as good a place to crash as any other. Well, maybe the stone steps might get a little bit cold. Peering around he found exactly the right spot of grass just across the road. Perfect, down to the view of Giles' window. So Christmas at Chez Giles it was gonna be this year.

Once he'd organised his sleeping bag to satisfaction, he settled in, pulling his schoolbag closer. Walkman, some comic books, a little food and soda, and this would be his Christmas. A bit meagre for some people's tastes, but the best Xander could hope for.

His walkman wasn't playing his usual poison, but a collection of cheesy Christmas songs as he nibbled without much taste at the sandwich he'd made. Not that he was used to great cooking, unless he got up the energy or the enthusiasm to make something himself.

Willow's mom, now she could cook. When he was a child, he lived for those times when his friend would invite him over to play, maybe even have a sleepover. It was his one opportunity to experience what family was. Willow's mom and dad didn't spoil everyone's appetites by shouting, or throwing plates of food at each other. Of course they hardly talked to each other at all, their conversation never getting passed a polite 'What did you do at work/school today, honey?' Nothing that could possibly be interpreted as genuine interest. It was only recently that Xander had started to wonder exactly which one was worse. His parents' abuse or Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg's apathy.

They'd been friends for so long, he honestly couldn't remember a time when they weren't. Willow was like one of his limbs, so connected to him, so much a part of him, that he couldn't imagine functioning as whole without her. Or maybe he was just so used to her being around, that he would miss her if she were gone. But it hurt, goddammit, to have Willow of all people push him away. He understood that she wanted to make things better between her and Oz, and judging by the puppy whipped expression on the musician's face when he sought her out in the lounge area yesterday afternoon, she would get her wish. Did that mean that they were over? Did she only have love for one person in her heart? And did it have to be either Oz or Xander?

He sighed, finishing the last of his sandwich and soda. Willow had clearly made her choice. Ozman had won and Xander was left stranded in the cold. Or severe lack of cold, whatever. He'd spoiled the best long-term relationship he'd ever had, let's face it, the only long-term relationship he'd ever had, with a simple kiss. Ok, simple wasn't the word for it. And it hadn't been just one kiss. But dammit all to hell, and they were close enough to it's gate to do it, he hadn't exactly been holding a gun to her head either. Hadn't she told Buffy that it made it all sexy and dangerous because it was a secret? So, that's all he was. Willow's dirty little secret. Once the secret was out, so were her feelings for Xander.

Secrets! Huh, Buffy knew a thing or two about that too. Hiding Angel from them like that. How had she expected him to react? Throw the murderous fiend a welcome home party? If she could have seen the look on Giles' face when he found out, her heart would have broken from it. Xander had kept telling himself that that was the reason he'd torn into her with accusations, the memory of Miss Calendar and the pain in Giles' eyes. Perish the thought that he might actually admit to the soul-deep jealousy he felt for the undead guy.

Oh hell, what did they want from him anyway? He'd helped them find out what had crawled up the vampire's butt this Christmas, hadn't he? He'd even volunteered to help! Geez, what more did they want, blood?

He found himself actually chuckling at that thought, though it wasn't exactly from mirth. He'd been too close too many times to being sucked dry and not in a good way, either. The memory of Angel offering him as a midnight snack to Spike still managed to make shivers run down his spine. And then there was their recent run in with the blonde vampire. Not to mention that time with Drusilla. All in all enough fodder for nightmares.

A light was turned on in Giles' upstairs window. His bedroom, Xander realised, trying to picture Giles wandering through the room, his eyes unable to see anything beyond the yellowish light. It would never cease to amaze him how Giles could still sleep in that room, let alone in that bed. Xander would never know what had gone through Giles' mind when he discovered his girlfriend in his bed, her neck twisted in an unnatural position, but he was pretty sure that it couldn't have been much worse than finding Giles tied to that chair, broken and bleeding and not even trusting his own eyes anymore.

And they were all just supposed to forgive Angel, just like that? Because of that little demon running around inside him? Well, in case anybody was interested, Xander had a little demon of his own running around inside. Only his didn't suck blood or kill innocent people. It just killed Xander. Slowly and bit by bit.

No, he was not gonna cry, not with Carol of the Bells chiming down his earplugs. His life sucked, nothing new there. Maybe it sucked just slightly more than last year. Then at least he'd had Cordy. Geez, what had possessed him to tell her about this? For that matter, what had possessed him to start dating her at all? He managed another chuckle. Oh yeah, like Xander, school-idiot was ever gonna get another shot at Miss Popularity herself? Not unless he involved magic again.

The light in Giles' bedroom flipped off. Had the G-man turned in already? Gazing at his watch, he saw that it had just turned ten. No. Probably went to fetch a book or something. Some obscure but very thick, leather-bound volume on vampire lore, with lots of long difficult words and cool engravings. Maybe he'd stretch out on his couch, a glass of expensive brandy, or as it was the season, eggnog by his side. Pushing his glasses back up his nose with his left index finger or maybe raking a hand through his thinning hair in that absentminded way of his, a frown of concentration appearing as he studied the complex text before him.

The picture was enough to bring a smile back to Xander's face. Digging some of his own literature out of his bag - comics thank you very much - he stretched out on his back. Within minutes the pages slipped from his grip as he sank into a peaceful slumber.
 
 

But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
When I make a lot of money
Then I'm gonna quit this crazy scene
And I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

It began as a soft tickle on his nose, slowly spreading into a steady pitter-patter across his face, until it finally managed to seep into his restful dream. Still half asleep, he wiped at his face a few times, trying to chase away the troublesome insect, whatever it might be. Stubborn little fellow apparently, although it was starting to feel like an entire swarm at this stage. His hand sleep-reached out and he pulled the flap of his sleeping bag over his head, hiding away from the pesky disturbance and the world in general in his warm little cocoon.

That's when he woke up enough to recognise the cold, wet substance on his face. Snow? In Sunnydale, California? Was he still dreaming?

He peeked out from his nest in stunned disbelief. It was snowing. It was actually, honest to goodness snowing! The goofy smile at his first sight of actual snow slowly faded into a frown. Somebody clearly had it in for him. It couldn't have started snowing tomorrow morning, when he could sneak back into the house while his dad was passed out drunk on the living room floor?

Well, sod it all! He wasn't going back. Let the snow cover him for all he cared. He jerked the flap back over his head with angry determination. They'd be sorry, when they found his frozen bones in the morning.

"Xander?" The soft, hesitant voice cut through his sombre self-pity and for a brief moment he thought he'd gone back to his dreams, when suddenly he heard it again. "Xander? I.., er, .. I think you'd...uh... b-b-better wake up. It-it-... well, hard to believe, but it's ...uh... s-s-snowing."

"Giles?" Oh yeah, like that stammer could belong to anybody else. Pulling the flap back, he stared up blearily, the snow hitting his eyes before the thought of shielding them with a hand struck him like a good idea. And standing there, looking down at him with what looked like genuine worry, was the Watcher himself. Shirtsleeves rolled up, waistcoat unbuttoned, snowflakes clinging to his hair and glasses, he still managed to look the epitome of respectability.

God, sometimes he wished they'd all at least stop pretending they actually cared what happened to him.

"I'm not going home, Giles," he blurted out without even thinking about it, or without even trying to come up with some lame joke or witticism. The deliberate way Giles took off his glasses and peered at him made it all too clear that particular truth hadn't escaped the watchful Watcher either. Instead of replying, he simply put his glasses back on his nose, bent down and picked up the forgotten comic books, shaking the snow off, before he glared at them with a somewhat disapproving smirk. Or at least as close to a smirk as a reserved Brit could get. Xander could do nothing but stare at him as Giles stuffed them into his schoolbag, continuing with his walkman and the remains of his Christmas dinner. When he finished clearing everything away, he finally turned back to Xander and the teen couldn't help the gasp at the bright flash in those blue eyes.

"I will drag you inside, sleeping bag and all, if I have to." Xander didn't doubt the words or the iron hard edge in the older man's voice. Of course, his name wouldn't be Alexander LaVelle Harris, if he didn't at least try to find out how far he could push this.

"Oh yeah? You and which army?"

Just what was he trying to prove? That Giles was no better than his father? That he too would resort to violence to get his way? Judging by the man's eyes, which were rapidly reaching the term dangerous, the possibility wasn't even so remote. That was the whole trouble with Giles. It was too damn easy to forget that Ripper was lurking somewhere behind the tweed and the stammer.

The thought hadn't finished completion in his head, or a grin that - even though it was applied to Giles - could only be described as mischievous flashed briefly, before strong arms reached out underneath him and scooped him up without the slightest effort.

"Put me down! Put me down!" Despite the harsh pushes against Giles' chest, Xander really wasn't sure whether to feel completely humiliated, or to fall to the ground laughing. This was the most ridiculous scene he'd ever found himself in. Well, at least in the last twenty-four hours. Laughter finally won out, as Giles, chuckling away himself, put him to his feet. Shimmying out of his sleeping bag, he rolled it up with a huge put upon sigh. Looked like he really wasn't gonna win this one tonight.

"I wasn't going to send you home, Xander," Giles finally explained, picking up Xander's schoolbag, as the boy made the hugest show out of getting his sleeping bag rolled up just right. "Just invite you inside. This really isn't a night to spend out in the open air."

If only it wasn't so dark and Xander could get a better look at Giles' face. Maybe then he'd be able to tell if the man was being sincere. He prided himself on being able to tell the difference between genuine concern and required duty, having experienced enough of the latter himself. Finally he just shrugged. Who cared anymore? He did need a place to stay tonight, and any place other than home sounded good right now.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't." He was urging Xander towards his house with just the slightest push in his back. "I thought I'd fallen asleep on the couch when I saw the snow outside. I came out to ... uh... well..."

Xander couldn't help his chuckle at the stammered trailing off of words, not in the least because it confirmed the image his fantasy had conjured up of the Watcher. Without replying, he reached out and pinched the older man's arm. When Giles glared at him, strangely enough not even surprised, he just grinned.

"That's what you came outside for, right? To see if you weren't dreaming?"

Giles simply nodded, distractedly rubbing the spot on his arm, and it occurred to Xander that maybe he had pinched a little harder than was strictly necessary. "Uh..., yes actually."

"You're welcome," Xander grinned back, as he reached the top step down to Giles' door. His intention had been to skip out of reach quickly, but when his foot started slipping on the first wet step, he considered that maybe it was safer to take it a little slower. That's when something suddenly occurred to him and he turned towards Giles behind him. "How did you know it was me? It could have been a vampire ambush or something."

Was that a blush creeping onto Giles' face? "Uh..., well, I-I-I." The blush and the stammer. And lookie there, unable to look Xander in the eye. This should be good. "I over-overheard Cor- Cordelia." The admission hit Xander so hard, he almost fell backwards down the steps. He recovered quickly though, and abruptly turning his back to Giles again, just so the man wouldn't be able to read the distress he knew to be on his face, he carefully started downstairs.

"Giles," he began, feeling secure in the knowledge that the other man couldn't see his expression, "I don't know when you last checked your job description, but you're a Waaa-tcher." He made sure to put enough emphasis on that last word. "Not a...," emphasis again, "Listener."

"You're probably right," came the immediate reply from behind him. "There's no way I could pass myself off as Whoopi Goldberg."

Whoopi Goldberg? The answer came from so far left field that Xander halted on the bottom step. It actually took him a moment to connect the dots himself. Listener. Star Trek. Guinan. Schooling his face into a look of concern, he jumped off the final step and quickly turned towards Giles, grabbing him firmly by his upper arms.

"Are you feeling light-headed, Giles? Do you need to lie down?" When all he got in return was an amused grimace, he added quickly, "Pop culture reference, Giles? Don't sprain a brain muscle, will ya?"

"Just get in there." They were both laughing as Giles pushed him through the half open door. The awkwardness hit him the moment he found himself standing there just inside Giles' living room. The last time Xander had burst through that door it was to tell Giles whom he'd run into at the cemetery. Turning towards the Watcher with helpless eyes, he was suddenly taken aback to find a similar realisation on the other man's face. How long they stood there, just staring at each other in that disturbingly mutual recognition was anybody's guess, but finally Giles blinked and shook himself slightly. Dropping Xander's schoolbag in the niche next to the door, he moved quickly into his kitchen. "Uh... you can put your sleeping bag...er... o-over there, Xander."

It still took him a moment to collect himself, his eyes glued to the Watcher's back as he made a hasty retreat. Finally Xander just shrugged and did as he was told, then moved the few steps necessary to lean against the kitchen counter and see what Giles was actually up to. He was just in time to have a mug placed right in front of his nose. Almost suspiciously he peered into it, his nostrils flaring at the heavenly scent rising from it.

"Hot cocoa, Giles?" A plate of cookies landed next to the mug. "And chocolate chip cookies? You're the best mom ever!" His smile froze instantly at his own cheery words, the change in his mood quickly noted by the older man, a similar sobering winding its way across Giles' features. Before he could acknowledge it, Xander quickly grabbed the mug in one hand, the plate in the other and hightailed it to the couch. He was relieved to find he'd calmed down a little by the time he got there, and as he sat down and carefully peeked up at Giles, he sighed in genuine relief to find those blue eyes weren't examining him from head to toe in concern. He couldn't talk about it. Not yet.

"Well," Giles said, as he settled in his own chair with his own mug. "I was reasonably sure you wouldn't want any tea."

Xander scrunched up his nose at that remark and Giles smiled, enough to ease Xander's mind even further. Depositing the plate of cookies on his lap with a possessive glare in Giles' direction, he sipped his cocoa experimentally. Wow! Yet another Watcher talent revealed.

"Great cocoa, Giles."

"Thanks. Glad you like it."

And that was the extent of their conversation for the next few minutes. The strangest thing was, it didn't even bother Xander. Not the way the silences between him and Cordelia had always grown uncomfortable within seconds when they were still dating, both of them desperate to fill any gap in their conversations with even the most inane babblings. This was different, a weird, warm, easy companionship, not dissimilar to the glow the hot beverage was spreading throughout him. It was then, as he raised the mug to his lips to take another sip, that his eye fell on the mug itself and he quickly swallowed the rising chuckle.

"Gee Giles, I don't have to take that literally, do I?"

"Pardon?" Giles seemed to startle out of whatever contemplation he'd sunk into and he gazed at Xander with a frown. A smile, if an embarrassed one, surfaced when Xander twisted the mug in his direction, so Giles could see what had him so amused. The slogan 'Kiss the Librarian' painted across it in big red letters. "It was a gift..." Even without the words trailing off, or the smile simply vanishing from Giles' face, Xander would have been able to tell who the gift was from.

"Miss Calendar." It was no louder than a mumbled whisper, a statement that needed no confirmation and was therefore not given one. Xander really didn't know what to say. Contrary to popular belief, he did know when jokes were inappropriate and this was the mother of all such times. And so their silence continued, both unwilling to breach that particular subject. In the end, it was Giles who broke the stillness.

"You did good today, Xander."

"I did?"

Something that Xander didn't dare to hope could be an affectionate smile flew across Giles' face. "Yes, you did. Helping us find out what was wrong with Angel, despite your misgivings about him. That took some growing up."

The compliment made Xander feel strangely embarrassed, and somewhat guilty as well. He put his empty mug and plate on the coffee table, and searching for something to do while he gathered his thoughts, he toed off his shoes, brought his feet onto the couch and locked his hands together around his drawn-up legs. Giles frowned, but didn't appear to be inclined to object to his bodily arrangement.

"Yeah well," he finally admitted, unable to look Giles in the eye, but preferring to keep his gaze fixed on the top of his knees. "That's your doing really, Giles."

"How so?"

He still didn't dare to look at the Watcher, so he had no idea what expression accompanied that question. Maybe that was for the better, so he wouldn't lose his nerve to do this. "I take my cues from you. I was listening in on your conversation with Buffy..." His voice trailed off and he dared to peek from under his eyelashes at the man sitting across from him, to find Giles' eyebrows raised in question. "Oh so you're the only one who can do the eaves-dropping thing?" he asked with exaggerated indignation, his eyes ducking back downward when Giles gave him an indulgent 'oh-please' tilt of his head. "What I mean is, geez Giles, you're the only one among us who has serious reason to hate this guy." And they were back on the off-limits subject, Miss Calendar, so Xander quickly hurried on before the other man could interrupt him. "And if you can get past all that, well..." He didn't add anything else, but the words he'd left unspoken were clear enough for the dumbest guy to understand, let alone the smartest man Xander knew.

There was no answer to his little speech, making Xander even less eager to look the man in the eye. So he didn't, his eyes still intently focused on his knees, one hand picking at non-existing lint on his pants. The longer the stillness lasted, the more agitated Xander became. This wasn't the comfortable silence of just a moment ago; this was nerve-wracking, ice-pick-piercing-through-his-brains silence. Xander had just about reached the point where he thought he was gonna start running through the room screaming, when a soft voice finally spoke.

"I don't think I'm past it," it said and Xander let out the breath he'd been holding. "Buffy really hurt me to the soul when she kept Angel hidden from us."

Xander nodded. He'd delivered that piece of news to Giles himself, had witnessed the torment that had crossed the Watcher's face. The admission gave him the courage to look at the other man and his heart broke all over again when he saw him slumped forward in his chair. His glasses were dangling from his left hand, his hair dishevelled from running his hands through it in confusion. Still he didn't speak, knowing that the man had to get through this by himself.

"But I did..." A slight shiver ran through Giles before he continued. "I do understand her. She loves Angel. And I know what it's like to love something that's slowly destroying you."

Again Xander understood instantly. "Ethan Rayne," he said to himself, but apparently not quiet enough. Giles' head shot in his direction, his eyes burning with such a fierce and bewildered surprise.

"How?" he started, but then he shook his head, grimacing with astonishment. "You know, Xander," he continued, "sometimes you've got that dumb guy clown routine of yours working a little too well for you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Xander stated around a huge grin.

"Trust me, it was meant as one."

They both grinned at that remark, the awkward silence very effectively broken. "Yeah well," Xander continued, "try growing up with the local genius as your best friend."

Giles nodded in understanding, his fingers toying with his glasses. "I can imagine it would give anyone an intellectual inferiority complex."

Talk about an understatement. He'd learned at a very young age that, no matter how hard he tried, there was just no way he could ever live up to Willow. "Triple S, that's my Willow." His own private name for his best friend was spoken softly before he was even aware of it himself. The next thing he knew Giles was frowning at him, clearly not understanding the reference. "Sweet, smart and strange," he clarified and Giles let out an 'oh' of comprehension. He'd always been able to make her laugh though, that particular talent once discovered exploited to such an extend that now it almost seemed like it was all he was. The thought made him snort. "Except, she's not my Willow anymore."

Giles' reaction to that self-pitying remark took him by surprise. "Xander, Xander, Xander," was the plaintive reproach and Xander's head snapped up towards the other man. There was just something different about the way the Englishman always pronounced his name, even more so when he did it three times in succession. "You have such an innate intelligence and an almost uncannily accurate instinct, and yet you still manage to be so completely wrong where Willow is concerned."

Could anyone really blame him though? "I love her, Giles," he blurted out without thinking.

"Have you ever told her?"

Had he ever? His legs falling down again, he straightened, favouring Giles with his best wounded air. "I got her out of her coma, did you know that, Giles?" His voice sounded loud in his own ears, a reflection confirmed by the pained expression on Giles' face. He refused to let it stop his justified tantrum though. "Yeah, that's right. I told her I loved her. She woke up from her coma. And you wanna know what the first word is that comes out of her mouth? You really wanna know?" His anger completely deflated at Giles' small nod. "Oz."

"I'm sorry, Xander." Well, at least the regret on Giles' face looked genuine enough.

"Story of my life." He shrugged it off as if it didn't really matter. It was obvious from the other man's expression that he wasn't fooled for an instant.

"I don't doubt for a moment that you love her," Giles continued relentlessly, and he held up his hands to ward off any comment when Xander glared at him dangerously. "The real question here is, are you in love with her?"

He needed to think about that one for a moment, watching Giles' brows raise in question. "Yeah, I think so."

"You think so? Okay." The Watcher paused momentarily, taking a breath. "So what about Cordelia? What about Buffy?"

Oh, oh, now he understood what Giles was getting at. "Right. This is Xander we're talking about. I fall in love faster than Cordy can max out her father's credit cards."

This time the smile on Giles' face was genuine. "You're eighteen. You're supposed to."

"So you're saying this is just another one of my adolescent crushes? That I'm no more in love with Willow than I am with Buffy or Cordelia?" He thought about that for a moment, but quickly dismissed it completely, his index finger wagging back and forth in negation. "No, I hear what you're saying, but that's not the case this time."

"Okay." Okay, indeed. You really didn't need a psych degree to see that Giles was just humouring him and that this discussion was far from over. "Let's try this another way."

See? Xander sank back into a corner of the couch with a resigned sigh, pulling his legs underneath him in a tailor fashion. "Sure. Why not?" It wasn't like he had better plans for tonight.

"Right." Straightening just slightly in a more comfortable position himself, Giles put his glasses back on his nose, the gesture alone warning Xander that the other man was taking this seriously. "When I first arrived in Sunnydale, as.. uh, well your librarian and Buffy's Watcher, I'd only known you and Willow for a few days before it became apparent to me that the girl was extremely infatuated with you."

"In real English, she thought I was pretty much a hottie."

"That was real English, Xander," Giles felt the need to point out, but his smile betrayed that he realised that Xander was just being Xander. "But like you said, she had a very big crush on you. She followed you around like a little puppy, did everything to get your attention short of undressing and throwing herself at you."

"She did that too."

"Excuse me?"

Xander chuckled at the shocked, surprised look Giles was throwing at him now, smugly satisfied that he'd managed to stun the stoic Watcher so easily again. "The love-spell gone awry?" he explained.

Shock turned into comprehension, then into distaste. "Ah yes." Right. Those two words summed that whole sordid affair up perfectly. "What I'm trying to say is this. Despite all her efforts to have you notice her, you didn't even know she was alive." Xander wanted to protest, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he found there was nothing he could say. "It was only when Oz started noticing, that your own eyes were opened to what had always been there for you for the taking."

The whole sad truth was that Giles had a point. How had Buffy put it again? He was so used to being the belle of Willow's ball that it never occurred to him that she might get it into her head to move on, forget about him and find someone more worthwhile. After all, could he really blame her? He'd already started dating Cordelia, and yet every time Oz so much as touched Willow, no matter how casually it was like pouring oil on a fire. And then finally, when he saw her standing there in that incredible dress. She simply wasn't his little Willow anymore. That was ultimately the real shocker.

"As for Cordelia," Giles' words cut through his thoughts, making him jump just slightly. He already knew what Giles was going to say about her. That he'd never really been in love with her in the first place, that in fact he'd disliked her with a violent passion since she'd started picking on him and Willow as children. And again, he wouldn't entirely be wrong. But Xander had one brilliant defence that even Giles couldn't tear apart.

"Guys like me never get a shot at homecoming queens like Cordy, Giles. I had to strike the iron while she was hot."

"First of all, she didn't win," the other man replied around a grin, and it took Xander a moment to realise that he was talking about the homecoming queen thing. "Secondly, that is such hogwash!"

This time it was Xander's turn to exclaim a startled, "Excuse me?"

"Stop selling yourself so short, Xander. You are a very handsome young man."

"Not exactly words a fella wants to hear from his librarian," he quickly tried to joke, grinning awkwardly and doing what he did best when he felt uncomfortable, babbling. "Unless of course she's a she, young, blonde and stacked." His words drowned out automatically at the reproach Giles' eyes were sending. "Shutting up now."

"Good. Because I'd like you to answer one question for me. If you are, as you say, such a bad catch, why would Cordelia have bothered to go out with you in the first place?"

Because he was such a spectacular kisser? He thought it wiser not to verbalise that particular thought. "Because it was date-a-dork week and I drew the short straw?"

Giles shook his head in clear disappointment. "It couldn't possibly have been because you're brave, smart, funny and fiercely loyal?"

Was he really all that? No way. "Yeah sure, that's why I'm such a babe-magnet."

"No, not with that attitude you are."

"See? This is what's wrong with my life," Xander exclaimed in yet another attempt to get them out of this awkward conversation. "I'm getting advice on my love-life from an English librarian!" And again it didn't fly, the glare he got from Giles a clear warning that he wouldn't get off so easily. So he just shrugged and resigned himself to the inevitable. "Go on," he mumbled finally, "speak to me, oh Hitchhiker's Guide to the love Galaxy," then grinned at the blank stare he got in return. Apparently Giles had used up his daily quota on pop culture references.

"Yes, well, that may be as it is," Giles stated bravely, "but then there's still the matter of Buffy to address." Ah of course. How did he know she would be next on the list?

"Buffy, huh?" He held his hand at shoulder height. "'Bout this tall? Blonde? Gorgeous? Runs with sharp pointy things, which is all fun and games until someone loses an eye? A guy has to be really dead to score with her?" A good thing it wasn't his father sitting in that chair or this smart-mouth routine would cost him dearly. Even Giles was already showing that all too familiar I'm-really-starting-to-lose-my-patience-with-you look. "That the girl we're talking about?"

"I really wish you would stop doing that."

"It's all I am, Giles." He hadn't realised how true the words were or how cold and empty they left him, until he'd actually spoken them out loud. "Not brave, or smart, or loyal. Just a great big pain in the wise-ass."

"Then why do I even bother?" Giles, very clearly at the end of his patience, his expression dark with anger, rose from his chair with a jerk. He didn't even so much as spare Xander a furious glare as he gathered the empty mugs and plate together and returned them to the kitchen.

Something inside Xander snapped and he had the strangest sensation he could actually feel an internal organ start to bleed, everything that had still held him together slowly seeping out of him until he was just a bag of bones on Giles' couch. Part of him felt vindicated, now that he'd proven once and for all that Giles didn't care anymore about him than the rest of his so-called friends. The other part just wanted to curl up and cry.

This was his cue for the dramatic exit, he knew that. Storm out in a huff, grab his sleeping bag and stuff on his way out, show them all that he didn't need Giles or any one else for that matter. So why was he still sitting there on Giles' couch, staring blankly at his own hands, as if he'd never seen them before in his life? It wasn't the threat of snow holding him back. That had suddenly become the least of his problems. An ice-cold hand closed around his heart as he realised that it was the fear that if he walked out now, he would never be able to return.

"Angel came to see me yesterday," a voice suddenly spoke up.

So deeply sunk into thought was Xander that he hadn't even noticed Giles returning to his chair or depositing a refilled mug on the coffee table, and he startled just slightly at the unexpected sound. "You told Buffy." His eyes never stopped their contemplation of his hands.

"Indeed. He wanted to know why he was back."

He really couldn't help himself. "Maybe they threw him outta Hell because his broody angstapalooza was depressing all the other demon spawn?"

A muffled sound, like someone trying to hold back laughter reached him and he dared to look up. Giles was cradling a cup of tea in both hands, nothing but amused indulgence evident in his expression and it was a revelation to Xander just how much that knowledge soothed the turmoil inside his mind.

"Yes, perhaps," Giles agreed with a smile. "Even Hell inhabitants can only stand so much of that doom and gloom expression."

"Giles, you made with the funny!" He couldn't hold back the exclamation, too stunned and too relieved at the words. For a moment they just sat there grinning at each other, feeling strangely united in their mutual distrust of the vampire with soul.

"Seriously though," Giles got them back to the issue at hand, schooling his expression into one of decorum, "the case remains that there must be a reason for his return to Earth, one that we still haven't succeeded in finding."

Maybe because a hundred years of torture and agony was enough punishment even for Angel's crimes? He couldn't yet bring himself to be quite that charitable, not verbally at least. Instead he sent out a tentative feeler. "Buffy said that when she first found him, he was no more than a savage beast, his mind torn to shreds by the torment he'd suffered." Giles simply nodded, but there was an expectant gleam in his eye, as if he was trying to encourage Xander to reach the right conclusion on his own. "So I guess, not only to survive all that, but to overcome it and not come out the other end fruitier than a fruity fruitloop, you'd have to be pretty strong. Not physically strong, but emotionally, psychologically strong. If that makes any sense."

"A surprisingly great amount of sense, Xander," Giles replied, and Xander couldn't help noticing how soft and gentle the older man's voice had grown. He liked the sound of it, giving him a feeling as if he was finally doing something right for a change.

"So what you're saying is that I should cut the guy some slack?"

The smile on Giles' face made him feel even better. "Xander," he said, without even answering Xander's question, "have you ever contemplated just why you and Angel have always felt so antagonistic towards each other?"

Because the guy is a vicious murdering undead guy who killed your girlfriend in cold blood, sprang to mind, but even before the thought had finished forming in his head, he knew it to be untrue. His feelings towards Angel had been less than sympathetic long before he lost his soul, ever since...

The tilt of Giles' head told Xander that he could follow each leap of his mind effortlessly, his smile growing even softer as he seemed to know the conclusion he'd reached. In that one moment Xander knew it was pointless to keep denying it, even to himself. "I was jealous of Angel." The expression on Giles' face had grown into such kind affection that it was almost unbearable, urging him to press on before he lost the nerve. "Ever since he first showed up, every other guy around Buffy might as well have had a bag over his head for all she noticed him."

"Every other guy being you," Giles remarked, his voice sounding too kind in Xander's ears. Of course, being him! Even if he'd had any sort of chance with Buffy, which he now realised he never had. He couldn't say the words, so he simply bowed his head and nodded, feeling lost in the sense of defeat that seemed to engulf him now that he'd finally admitted the truth. "And it never occurred to you that Angel might be feeling the same way?"

Huh? What? The question took him so by surprise that his head snapped back towards Giles, finding that same damnable sparkle of mischief behind wire-rimmed glasses. "Angel? Jealous of me?" His voice had risen a few octaves in shock, completely cracking on the last word. Angel was the guy Buffy was mooning over, the guy who'd boldly gone where no man had gone before. "What on earth would Angel have to be jealous of me for?" The guy who couldn't even get a date with a girl unless she was a praying mantis, a thousands-year-old mummy or Cordelia.

"Because you get to be with Buffy when he can't. You can share her days, go to school with her, walk in the sunlight, have fun on the beach with her." Xander had never looked at it that way, his eyes growing even huger as Giles continued. "You get to grow old with her."

"Wow." For once Xander was stunned speechless, no clever witticism jumping to mind to cover this. He'd definitely never looked at it this way. And now that he'd started, he only had to look into Giles' eyes to read further, realise other things he'd never even thought about before. He could make love to Buffy, if she would ever feel so inclined that was. He could give Buffy children. Simple mundane stuff that the vampire despite his many centuries of life could never give the girl he loved. There was only one word fitting to express the hugeness of that concept. "Wow."

There was a genuine grin on Giles' face now at the consternation on Xander's. "Why else would Angel dislike you so much? Think about it." He didn't need to. Hundreds of reasons popped up immediately, the same reasons why every one else was always on his case. Giles continued, before Xander got a chance to answer the question. "After all, you are not that obnoxious."

Not the words he wanted to hear under the circumstances. "Oh thank you so much."

Giles chuckled. "I only meant that you can be exceedingly tiresome sometimes, with your incessant prattling and your constant need to make jokes about everything." Xander grimaced, remembering the one time when even Giles had had enough and snapped at him to shut up. Again Giles interrupted his train of thought with his next words. "But once it's understood why you do it, it becomes rather endearing."

Why he did it? "Oh, do enlighten me, Obi Wan, why do I do it?"

"Because you're desperate for attention. You are so used to being ignored, that this verbal means of attention getting is the only method you think you've got left. And yet, the more you try, the more you are ignored. It's a vicious circle, Xander. And it's never going to end unless you put a stop to it yourself."

Uh... wow? He'd already used that one, hadn't he? So, since he couldn't think of anything else, he said nothing. How else could you respond to someone getting inside your head so thoroughly? Only then something else hit him. Had Giles said it was endearing?

He needed to say something. Anything. It felt as if those blue eyes were boring their way straight into his soul. Come on, Xandman, he chastised himself, you're always so good at this.

"Hey!" he finally exclaimed, "are you trying to make me feel better about Angel or about myself?" It was lame, he knew it, but it was the best he could come up with. Besides, lameness wasn't exactly something he wasn't known for.

There was no answer from the Watcher. His smile just got even more affectionate than before, turning Xander's stomach to complete mush. "Drink your cocoa, Xander. It's getting cold."

And so it was Giles who provided him with a way out of this awkward conversation, if only temporarily. As he lifted the mug to his lips and drank from the indeed already cooling liquid, it occurred to Xander just how not finished they were with this discussion. Still, if they needed to discuss it at all, he preferred it to be later rather than sooner. So he sipped his cocoa, steeling furtive glances towards the man sipping his own beverage and wondering what the hell Giles thought he was doing.

That's when he noticed it. It was back. That warm, weird comfortable silence between them and for just a split second it felt to Xander like he could sit there forever, with Giles opposite him, drinking hot cocoa, as long as the other man didn't bring up any more awkward conversation topics he'd rather avoid. If the rest of the Scooby Gang ever heard him admit it, they would laugh their heads off, but the truth was that Xander enjoyed the quiet. When you grew up in a household where the only means of communication was shouting and crying, you could appreciate the beauty of not saying anything at all. That too, Giles seemed to have understood about him, letting the silence grow and surround them without feeling inclined to disturb it with unwanted words. And for once Xander didn't feel the need to do so either, the silence between them almost as nurturing and calming as the stillness he'd always escaped to in his room, shut away from his parents' shouting and retreated deep inside himself. He wasn't quite sure whether to feel relieved or panicked at the knowledge that anyone, most of all Giles, understood him so well.

When the silence was finally broken, it was by the sound of Giles' antique clock striking twelve times, it's soft coppery chimes echoing through the room and making them stare at each other in startled uncertainty. It was midnight. In other words, it was officially Christmas. In the Harris' household that usually meant that Paul Harris was already passed out and snoring on the floor, while both his wife and son sought their refuge in bed, trying to lose their sorrow in the sweet oblivion of sleep, Alice Harris' usually helped along by half a bottle of sleeping tablets. At least, that's how it used to be, before Xander had started his yearly tradition of being elsewhere. Since that also meant that he had no idea how normal families marked this special moment, he gazed at Giles for any form of guidance.

And found the same look of unsure confusion on the other man's face. Another thought suddenly occurred to him in that instant. What if the reason Giles was so good at figuring him out, was because the Watcher's childhood and/or home-life hadn't been any more ideal than Xander's? There was Ripper to show for it after all, or his association with Ethan Rayne which had lead to setting the demon Eyghon onto the world, all of it incontestable proof of Giles' less than immaculate start in life.

It was only then, as these realisations went flying through his mind, that Xander noticed something that should have struck him as odd from the first moment he'd walked into this room, but was only now announcing itself to his consciousness. There wasn't a Christmas tree, not even a minusculely small one, anywhere to be seen in Giles' house, nor were there any other signs of Christmas decorations. Even Snyder, the biggest small person on this planet, had put some effort in promoting holiday cheer at Sunnydale High.

Did this mean that Giles' memories of Christmas were as painful as Xander's? Was that the reason for this sudden companionship, this empathy between them? And was that the same realisation he was reading in the Watcher's eyes?

Who made the first move, neither of them was able to say, but Xander got onto his feet at the exact instant it seemed as Giles stood up, both taking just one step towards each other. The only thing either of them could think of to do next was grin at the other awkwardly.

"Merry Christmas, Giles," Xander finally mumbled, holding out his hand uncertainly.

"Merry Christmas, Xander," Giles returned, taking the hand with the same tentative unease. And then, totally unexpected, that soft affectionate smile Xander had witnessed earlier that evening flashed across Giles' face and tugging at the hand enclosed in his own, he pulled Xander closer, his other arm coming around to hold him in a tender hug. Despite the unexpected move, Xander couldn't help the warm feeling of belonging that suddenly flooded him and it was all he could do not to put his head on Giles' shoulder. The hand on Xander's back felt almost as good as his own hand on the other man's back and the longer they stood there, the fewer reasons Xander could think of why they shouldn't be standing there, wrapped tightly in this mutually comforting and satisfying embrace. Nor did it suddenly seem like such a bad idea to simply do what felt good and put his head on Giles' shoulder after all, and a sigh of bliss escaped him as he did just that.

It was quite by accident, or so he kept telling himself afterwards, that his lips briefly touched the smooth flesh of Giles' neck, but the result was instantaneous. They both froze. But when Giles made even less of an attempt to step from their embrace than Xander did, the young man couldn't help but wonder if that fleeting touch had burnt through the librarian's nervous system with the same high voltage as it had through his.

Or it was at all possible that Giles hadn't even felt it really. Or maybe he was just waiting to see if he'd imagined it. Or maybe it was just another fluke. And Xander was definitely having too many ors.

Before reason, not to mention panic, completely set in and told him in no uncertain terms that this was a bad idea on so many levels, he pressed his lips once more against the soft skin, lingering just slightly on the pulsing vein. Now that was definitely a shuddering sigh escaping Giles and before he could think too much about what he was doing, Xander buried his face completely into the nook behind Giles' ear, in pursuit of that indefinable scent he'd detected. It was like nothing he'd ever smelled before, the combination of no-nonsense soap and dusty books not overshadowing the tangy masculinity underneath, so different from the flowery aromas he'd always found on Willow or Cordelia. It made him wonder whether the taste too would show as much difference and the impulse completely bypassing his brain again, his tongue flicked out for a quick sample.

The body, which until that moment had remained stock-still in his arms, finally stirred, a shudder passing through it, that echoed along Xander's own. And still he did not disentangle himself from Xander's arms, the only sign he was still there a breathy whisper. "Xander? What are you doing?"

Gathering any courage he still had left, Xander lifted his head from Giles' shoulder and dared to look the other man straight in the eye, the hand that was still clutched between their bodies curling even tighter around strong fingers. "I don't know," he admitted, for once in his life speaking nothing but the honest truth, even as the light in those blue eyes told him that they understood exactly what wasn't being said. It gave him the strength he needed to continue. "But it feels right somehow."

"Feeling right doesn't necessarily mean it is right," Giles whispered back, their lips almost touching from that vantage point and the first few seconds the meaning of the words refused to sink in, Xander's attention completely focused on the movements of that mouth so very close to his. That scent he'd caught earlier was suddenly everywhere, overwhelming him until his whole world seemed to be made up of blue eyes, pink lips and that sharp male perfume. It should have scared him, repulsed him even, especially the male part, yet all he knew was that it didn't. Maybe Larry hadn't been so off the mark after all.

Instead of upsetting him, the thought actually amused him, making him bolder than he'd ever thought he could be. His hand swept along Giles' back just once before it came to rest again at the small of his back, but Xander didn't fail to notice the shiver running through the older man's body, and he licked his lips outrageously to add even more emphasis to his next words. "And you and I are so totally famous for doing the right thing, aren't we, Ripper?"

Giles swallowed, the dark sparkle in his eyes thrilling and worrying Xander with equal measure. "Feeling a bit predatory tonight, are we Xander?" The question came out in a low and husky thrum, his lips never moving closer or further from Xander's own and it was starting to frustrate the hell out of him.

"Maybe it's the hyena in me," he tried, but his words only conjured up a slow smile on those lips, nothing more.

"That was two years ago. Expiration date on that excuse is long passed."

Xander shrugged dismissively. "Soldier boy?" That infuriating smile was setting him on fire, the sensation even heightened by those tempting lips so close and yet so far. "And what's your excuse, Ripper?" he growled, before he swept in and finally pressed his lips to that maddening smile.

At first he didn't feel that much different than he did when he kissed Willow or Cordelia, the lips beneath his pliant and sweet, but before any sort of relief, or even disappointment, could form inside him, Xander could sense the sudden transformation as a low snarl sounded deep in Giles' throat. The next thing he knew the hand at Xander's back was now tangled in his hair, keeping him in place with an almost iron grip, while a determined mouth pressed hard into his own, prying it open with a force that was both demanding and tender in a really bizarre way. And when Giles' tongue sought access into his mouth, the thought of refusal was the last thing on his mind. This was nothing like kissing Willow or Cordelia. This assault on his oral senses went straight to his stomach, shooting out in every direction to make his toes and fingertips curl. Not to mention that other part of his body which was suddenly at full alert. His hand jerked free from between them to grab Giles' waist and hold on for dear life. By the time Giles let him up for air, he was breathing raggedly and trembling with unleashed emotions. And they'd only kissed.

"Wow," he breathed softly, licking his lips which suddenly felt all strange and disconnected from the rest of his body. Wow? Definitely not big enough to express the raging thunder running along every nerve of his body. "Bigger than wow. Beyond the planet of wow. Revenge of the wow. The last days of the wow." He was babbling, no mistake about it, but it didn’t seem to matter.

There was a look that Xander could only interpret as smug satisfaction on the Watcher's face. "You're not so bad either," he grinned, before a dark cloud chased away the amused expression, to be replaced by one that revealed all too clearly that Giles was already coming down to earth again.

He refused to let it discourage him though. If there was one thing these last few moments had made crystal clear to Xander, it was that he'd never felt anything like this before, not in all his adolescent fumblings and he felt swamped by this terrifying fear that he might never feel it again. That fear was now driving him, overruling his common sense or insecurities. With a will of their own, his hands found the buttons of Giles' shirt and the part of Xander's brain that wasn't too busy being scared, was pleased to see that his fingers were only shaking slightly as he opened them one by one.

He only got as far as the first two, a tuft of greying chest hair peeking through, before his wrists were captured in an iron grip. "Xander, this is crazy," a raspy voice broke through the daze inside his head. Xander didn't doubt for a moment that it was, just like he knew with absolute certainty that he couldn't stop now.

Grazing his fingers lightly down the soft hairs, he noted Giles' sharp intake of breath, giving him the courage he needed to look the man in the eye. "I am eighteen," he felt the need to point out. "I know what I'm doing." The raised eyebrows and the incredulous look on the other man's face reminded him of the admission he'd just made a moment ago. Grinning, he shrugged. "Okay, okay, I have no idea what I'm doing." That admission taken care of, it occurred to Xander that he might as well go all the way. "In fact," he started, his gaze dropping down to his fingers which were now finding their way inside the opened V of Giles' shirt. "I've never…"

"Been with another man," Giles interrupted before Xander could continue, bringing back his self-consciousness full force.

"That too," he finally admitted softly. "Mostly though, I've just plain never been." He chuckled nervously. "Unless those dress rehearsals for an audience of one count as prior work experience."

"Xander." His name didn't come out as an exasperated admonition the way it usually did at one of his lame jokes, but more like a question mark, the question in front of it all too clear. He dared to answer the summons in Giles' voice and looked up to meet his eyes, relieved to find nothing but that same affectionate tenderness. "All the more reason why this should be special."

"All I know," he said quickly, before Giles could find some way of convincing him just how monumentally stupid an idea this was, "is that I want this. I need this." The expression on Giles' face revealed that the other man was about to object again, so Xander hurried to beat him to it. "Besides, I can't think of anyone more special than you."

And again it was nothing but the truth. Granted, Giles was the last person Xander would have dreamed to be his first. Willow possibly, Cordelia most likely, and in his wildest fantasies, even Buffy perhaps. Yet, here he was, filled with the unwavering conviction that this was the rightest thing he'd ever done. And on top of that, there was his discussion with Giles tonight which had begun a slow building belief that maybe someone cared enough about him after all.

The look in Giles' eyes was still doubtful, so Xander decided if he couldn't convince him with logic, he'd have to try another approach. He grinned, with what he fervently prayed was cocky assurance, before he draped his arms around Giles' neck and pulled him closer. There was no resistance forthcoming, not even when he pressed his lips back onto Giles'. Quite the contrary in fact. Almost instantly Giles' arms came around his body, pressing him even closer as his mouth returned to his earlier exploration of Xander's. This time he kissed Xander more gently, more carefully, but it certainly wasn't any less intense because of it. When they broke apart, they remained just like that, their bodies close together, their arms wrapped around each other. Xander knew that the insecurity was shining like a beacon from his eyes, but he smiled at the wonderfully tender expression he found in the blue eyes before him.

"I won't lie," Giles finally remarked, his voice a husky whisper, "and say that I've ever thought of you that way."

"Uh... ditto?"

Giles chuckled and kissed Xander again before he continued. "But you're right about one thing."

The sweet smile on Giles' face was making him too bold. "Just the one?" he interrupted impishly. "Rats!"

Without a word of warning, Giles kissed him thoroughly, his eyes sparkling as he hissed, "I'll kiss you for every smart arse remark that comes out of your mouth."

"Oh yeah, that'll make me bite my tongue."

So Giles swept in and bit it for him. Any smart mouth remarks he might still have had inside his head quickly fled the premises, his mind too occupied with the torrent of sensations coursing through his body. His hands restarted their work on Giles' shirt, unbuttoning it impatiently, before he slipped his hands underneath and slid the garment and the waistcoat from Giles' shoulders in one swoop. The Watcher's hands hadn't been idle either, and as one cool hand found it's way beneath his sweatshirt, Xander moaned into their kiss.

More than willing to lend Giles a hand, he held up his arms helpfully, grinning at the predatory look on Giles' face as he grabbed the shirt and yanked it over Xander's head. There was a moment of awkwardness right then, as they saw each other for the first time with half of their clothes removed. Not for long though. It was different, looking at a male chest, the curly hair on Giles' chest so unlike Xander's own hairless flesh, and he ran his hand through it just once, just to sample the feel. A good move apparently, judging from the shiver that ran through Giles or from the way he grabbed Xander's hand and pulled him towards the stairs.

Not that he had to use much force. Xander was practically skipping along behind him, unable to stop a mantra of ohgods running through his head. This was it. This was really going to happen.

There was nothing hurried or impatient about the way Giles made love to him. Fiery and intense certainly, but above all considerate and tender, intend on making Xander's first time as memorable as possible. From the moment they entered his bedroom, Xander found himself wrapped in those arms again, being kissed until he thought he'd pass out. By the time he felt the mattress dip beneath their joined bodies, he was already too far gone to notice how unfamiliar it felt to have a hairy chest pressed against his own, not to mention a penis hardening against his thigh.

He was lying sprawled on his back across the mattress while Giles let go of him just long enough to deftly remove the rest of Xander's clothes. When he returned to lie beside him, his mouth seeking Xander's instantly, his arms wrapped around and pressed into what turned out to be an equally naked body against his own. It was sheer heaven to feel that strong body plastered against every inch of his own, his hands roaming freely across any surface they could find. And that mouth, oh god that mouth, devouring his with kisses that made him wonder if he'd ever truly been kissed before. Just when he thought he might give up that bad habit of breathing for the sake of Giles' kisses, the other man's mouth left his own to trail a path downwards, leaving him gasping for much needed air. The moment those lips closed around his left nipple, any hopes of getting oxygen down his lungs was gone, as he could do nothing but pant his need, his body lifting itself off the bed in order to close the distance.

Finally a leg wound its way between his and rolling Xander onto his back again, Giles moved half on top of him, but the weight hardly registered when lips returned to Xander's for more fiery kisses. Giles was quite careful not to tease too much though, no doubt quite aware that Xander wouldn't last long, this being his first time and all. Halting his kisses and his maddening caresses just briefly, he lifted his head and looked down on his young lover, probably wondering if he was all right. Xander had no idea what expression was on his face, but if it didn't radiate the knowledge that not only he was doing fine, but that he was doing out of this world, he would try his luck at the next edition of the Sunnydale Poker Marathon.

Giles looked pretty flustered himself, his breath coming in short gasps, but the smile on his face made it obvious to Xander that maybe he didn't have much of a poker talent after all. And a question suddenly popped into his head, proving that he was indeed the king of bad timing.

"You never told me what that one thing I was right about was." His voice sounded strange to his own ears, like it came from somewhere outside himself.

No reply came to his question. Instead Giles smiled even broader and moved to lie completely on top of him. "That this feels right," he replied, suiting action to the words by moving his pelvis sensually into Xander's. A deep guttural groan escaped him, his head burying deeper into the pillow and his hips bucking at the sensation of hard flesh against hard flesh. And then he felt lips nipping at his exposed throat, across his cheeks and he lowered his head to capture that errant mouth hungrily. His hands reached down to grasp Giles' hips where they were grinding into his with unstoppable, relentless strength, their rhythm building up slowly, until they were driving into each other with ever- growing urgency. Their mouths had lost their connection some time ago, both needing it too much to actually breathe, and if the moans and cries and pleas that came from Xander's mouth lacked his usual wit, he was too occupied to notice.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh Giles, yes. Jesus, don't stop. Please. Please. Pleasepleaseplease.... Giles!"

His hips shot up, and his fingernails digging hard into Giles' ass, a scream was pushed from his lungs as he fell over the edge. It lasted forever, an outpouring from his soul and body until he felt totally empty and raw inside. When he opened his eyes, what felt like hours later, it was to find happily satiated eyes looking down on him.

"Are you okay, love?"

He could reply with nothing but a slow nod, every part of his body feeling too heavy to be moved, his throat too sore to speak. But the endearment went straight to his heart, the smile on his lips feeling too big for his face. Maybe Giles agreed, because he pressed a tender and sweet kiss on them.

"Giles?" he asked when the man looked down on him again.

"Yes?" There was suddenly something else lurking behind that blue gaze, a hint of trepidation. Well, that wouldn't do. There was just no way Xander could allow Giles to think even for the slightest second that he was having second thoughts. So, lifting up just slightly to brush his lips against the other man's, he whispered,

"Whatcha doing on New Year's Eve?"
 
 

THE END!