Sandy Places in the Shadows
by Wolfling and James
Part One - Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen

Part Nine

He glanced behind him, worried. Not *worried*, worried, but still. Giles
had told him that should anything occur due to supernatural activities
beyond Xander's control -- and he had actually stressed that last bit
several times -- that he would pay for the repairs.

"It'll be fine," Buffy told him patiently.

Xander turned to her. "Yeah, you say that because you don't own a car.
What if we come back and there's a dent? Demon slime? Vampire ashes coating
the windshield?"

Counting off on her fingers, she replied, "You get it banged out, wash the
truck, and blow them off."

"Dead body on the hood? Blood spilled in the bed?" The first, actually,
had happened already -- Spike had helped him inaugurate his truck.
Technically Spike's body was undead, but it wasn't like he was going to
share this tidbit with Buffy, anyway.

"See option number two. It's amazing what a little soap and water will get
rid of."

Xander countered, "The dead body might hit the hood at a velocity great
enough to smash it. Or a gang of demons might pick it up and roll it over.
Or someone might breathe on it wrong."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "If you're that concerned, you can always leave me
here and I can go patrolling by myself while you guard your truck."

"No, I'm good to patrol," he said quickly. Then glanced back again. "Can
we kinda...patrol nearby? We don't need to go through the *entire*
cemetery, do we?"

"It depends on where the vampires are hiding," she said with no hint of
sympathy.

"You think we could just draw them out? Make 'em come to us over near the
truck -- but not too near."

Buffy finally gave him a look. "You know you're seriously edging towards
obsession with this protect the truck thing."

"Spoken like somebody who doesn't own a vehicle, herself."

"If this is what owning a vehicle does to you...."

"Oh, don't worry," he told her as he finally turned his glances backwards
to glances around the cemetery. "I'm pretty sure it's a guy thing."

"I'll keep that in mind."

They walked for a minute, both occasionally glancing into the shadows.
Xander kept turning back to check on his truck, until he lost sight of it
behind the trees. He told himself it was fine. He glanced back again and
saw trees.

"It's fine," Buffy repeated patiently, a hint of a fond smile on her face.

"Your super-Slayer senses tell you?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Um." He thought about it. He knew she could tell when vampires were
nearby. She probably could also tell if there were any spooky, non-human
things nearby. "Sure." He didn't think he really would, but he could at
least fake it, and relax. Relax for a night of vampire hunting. Such was
life on the Hellmouth.

They patrolled in silence for a bit before Buffy asked, "You going to the
Bronze tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, always." He ignored the fact that lately he hadn't done the Bronze
thing, much. Hadn't even gone on patrol much either, hence tonight. Back
in the regular swing of things now that everything from the end of school
was settled down - before things got way unsettled again.

"Have to take the chance to go when we have it," Buffy said, echoing his
thoughts.

"Yeah." They walked without talking, a bit longer. Then Xander asked,
"You still gonna move into the dorms?"

She nodded. "Going to try for the whole college experience, or as much as I
can get mixed in with slaying."

"Will said she was gonna go to UC Sunnydale. Oz, too."

Leaving him the only one leaving, if you didn't count Angel, who'd left
already, and Spike, whom no one else knew about. And Cordelia, who was
going to LA to pursue an acting career and forgoing college. Xander
realized that meant nearly half of their little group was moving to LA.
Suddenly it didn't seem so much like a foreign land.

"You going to do the dorm thing in Los Angeles?" Buffy asked.

"Nah, we're-- I'm gonna get an apartment." He kept his face forward, not
wanting to look over and see Buffy giving him the raised eyebrow.

"We?"

Xander swore he could hear the raised eyebrow even if he couldn't see it.
"Um. Me and my truck...?" He looked over, and told himself silently that
he was an idiot. "You gotta swear not to tell." Maybe the vampires would
attack now, and save him.

Buffy mimed turning a key over her mouth. "I swear. Now give."

"Not even Willow, because she'll tell Oz, and accidentally tell Giles, and
god knows who else." Xander tried giving her a stern look. For some
reason, it worked a little better on her than on anybody else.

"My lips are sealed. Now, give."

"Bork's going to LA with me." He prayed he hadn't just ruined something by
telling her. Like his chances of moving out of Sunnydale without Giles
chaining him to his room, or giving him a lecture about living with his
boyfriend. Although being chained to his room.... He quickly banished that
train of thought before it could lead to places he tried not to go. At least
when he was awake.

"The mysterious Bork. So does that mean if I came down to LA for a surprise
visit I might actually get to meet your elusive boyfriend?"

He tried not to scream 'no'. "I keep telling him there's nothing to worry
about," he offered, sounding just as miserable as he felt. Lying to her,
too. He hated making her think she -- the Slayer -- was the reason Bork
didn't want to meet her. Which was true. but for all different reasons than
she thought. She could promise for hours not to harm a scale on Bork's
head -- but as soon as she met him, no glamour would be enough to make her
*not* know. "I'm sorry," he offered, not wanting to go into any of the half
dozen half-excuses he'd ever given her.

"Hey, it's not that big a deal." He could see the shadow of hurt in her
eyes though that only added to his guilt. "As long as he makes you
happy...."

"He does." Then Xander couldn't stand it anymore; he looked away and
pretended to scan the cemetery for vampires. After a moment, he forced
himself to say, "Maybe when you come visit, you can meet him. He
might...feel differently." He knew he was lying, but he hoped he sounded
sincere. Sincere enough. Another glance at Buffy's face made him wonder
when Spike had started dragging him this far away from his friends. Or was
it just him? Would they *really* believe him if he tried to explain? He
tried desperately to find something more cheerful to talk about. "So what
are you doing this Saturday?"

Then he wanted to smack himself. Great choice.

"Not much. Willow and I might go shopping. You?"

"Um. Lunch. Maybe. I'm not sure." He hadn't told anyone before now
about the invitation. Not sure if Giles had told anyone either -- though he
suspected not, since Willow hadn't been calling him every day to ask him if
he were going.

"With Bork?"

"No." Although Spike would offer to go, if he could. If he knew. Xander
wasn't sure he needed Spike there to protect him, though.

"Giles?"

Giles, maybe. And he had offered to go along. He'd been rather forceful
about it, in the way that made Xander's stomach get warm and a little tight.
He shook his head. "No. My...my mother called."

Buffy stopped and turned to stare at him. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged.

"What does she want?"

"To have lunch, she said. She talked to Giles, and he said.. he said it
sounded all right. If I wanted to go."

"Do you?" There was an air of protectiveness about her attitude that warmed
Xander's heart even as it made him feel more awkward.

He couldn't answer right away. It was a woman he'd lived with for fifteen
years. For better or worse, he'd called her mom. Now, with almost three
years away, he was being asked to... what? He still didn't know. Start
over? "I miss having a mom," he found himself saying.

Eyes sad, Buffy reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"But I don't know...." If she was going to be it, he finished silently.

"Do you want some moral support? Willow and I could always come along."

He shook his head, before he even realized he knew he didn't want them
there. "I think she'll think I'm ganging up on her. I don't know what she
wants, but if I show up with you and Willow and Giles and Oz, she'll think I
don't trust her."

Buffy nodded slowly. "Promise me you'll call afterwards then? We can wait
at my place until we hear from you."

"But you're going shopping."

"We can go shopping anytime."

Xander shrugged again, thinking that maybe it was a little silly to want
his friends waiting for him to get back from lunch with his mother. He kept
his head down, though, trying to think of a nice, mature, manly way of
saying 'please?'

It seemed all he needed to do was not object to it because when he didn't
say anything Buffy nodded decisively. "It's settled then. Willow and I will
wait at my place and you can come over after you finish."

"Um," he began, feeling as though he ought to make a token protest. But
that was enough, because otherwise he might actually convince her he didn't
want them to wait for him. "If Giles goes with," he began, not sure if that
mattered.

"Bring him along when you come over. He can help re-hash lunch; provide a
subjective view-point." She gave him a tiny, knowing smile.

Xander opened his mouth, then stopped. As if he could find a reason to
object to that? He laughed silently, at himself. Then he realized that
he'd decided to go. He managed to mumble something that he hoped Buffy
would take as a 'thanks'.

Buffy nodded again and they moved on patrolling. A moment or two later she
asked, "Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it's not the same thing, but if you can borrow my mom if you ever
need to."

He smiled, unable to even begin to control the way it spread out across his
face. "Cool. Thanks -- does she make you do chores?" he asked quickly, in
a doubtful tone.

"Some. But I can usually get out of them with slaying duties."

"Yeah, but what would my excuse be? I don't wanna borrow a mom who's gonna
make me wash even *more* dishes."

"Slayer's close companion's duties?" Buffy suggested, her eyes glinting
with humor.

"Which would involve carrying the stakes and spotting vamps? Or provide
the even more important straight man -- no jokes, please -- for your witty
'about to slay you' quips?" Xander kept his face serious. "I wonder if
that would fit on a business card?"

"Only if you use really tiny print."

"Would she buy that? Could I get out of dish-washing duty if I said I had
to assist you?"

"Sure." Buffy looked at him seriously. "Even a slayer needs someone to
watch her back."

Xander considered matters for a moment -- pretended to, anyhow, as if the
matter needed weighing. "Do you suppose...if assistant-slayer duties were
*that* important...I should get out of washing dishes completely." He gave
her a querying look.

"I doubt it. Doesn't work for me. And I've tried."

Xander pouted. "Damn. Then I guess we should go kill that thing, huh, and
get back to our respective homes and do our chores." He pointed at the big,
greenish-greyish, multi-limbed thing that had appeared some yards away.

Buffy started heading towards it. "Work, work, work," she bemoaned.

"Just remember, the sooner we get done here, the sooner we can go home and
clean the kitchen!" Xander called after her. He grinned cheerfully when she
gave him a look, over her shoulder.

"You know, Xander-" She dodged a punch, then spun and kicked, "I think you
should work-" A jump and a punch between the horns, "a bit more on your
encouragements."

"Sorry. Um.. 'Hey! When you kill this thing, don't get demon slime on your
boots!' Is that better?" He backed up a step as the demon was forced his
way. Pulling a knife out of its sheath on his belt, he threw it at the
demon's leg. When it paused and growled at him, he shrugged an apology.

"Not much." The demon flipped her, but Buffy managed to land on her feet
and lash out at its midsection with a well placed kick.

"How about you just *tell* people I assisted?"

"You know you could *actually* assist...." She dodged a couple of arms,
not even sounding winded. Or terribly annoyed.

"Why? You need help?" he asked, as Buffy flung the demon to the ground,
and landed a foot to one of its arms. Xander tried again to count the
number of arms, and gave up at 'five' as the demon stood up again.

"I wouldn't say 'no' to some," she responded, beginning a flurry of punches
and kicks.

"OK! 'Watch out!'" he yelled, as the demon swung two arms. Buffy was
already ducking, of course, but as she ducked the demon followed her down --
ignoring Xander, as he raised the tree branch he'd picked up over his head,
and brought it down. The demon snarled and spun towards him....before
slowly toppling over.

Xander blinked in astonishment. "Did I do that?"

Buffy looked down at demon lying at their feet. "I softened him up for
you."

"Uh-uh, you just kept him busy while I found a demon-killing tree branch."
Xander looked at the branch. Not even broken. "You think it was allergic
to oak tree?"

She shrugged. "No medic alert bracelet."

"His loss." He dropped the branch, and kicked the fallen demon. Then
jumped back quickly, just in case. "Don't you know those things can save
your life?" he scolded it. Then he grinned. "Hey! You know what?"

"What?" Buffy straightened and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her
face.

"We can head to the Bronze for an hour, then get home too late to do any
chores!"

Part Ten

Xander stood nervously just outside the restaurant's door. Waiting. He'd
arrived ten minutes early and had been second guessing his decision to come
ever since. It kept occurring to him that maybe she was already inside --
fifteen minutes early, and waiting at a table. He'd never know if he stayed
out here, but if he went inside, she'd arrive and wait outside and the
resulting never finding each other that would ensue would only serve to make
this lunch worse. He asked himself again if he really wanted to do this
alone. It wasn't too late to call Giles.... Especially since Giles had
practically threatened to come along, at the first sign of Xander's wanting
him to.

He'd finally opted to do this alone, if only because he was concerned that
his mother wouldn't do whatever it was she was meetnig him to do, if he had
someone along who spent the entire lunch glaring at her. Of course, it
might be *nice* to have Giles here when she did whatever it was, just in
case....

Then Xander saw her car pulling into the parking lot, and that was the end
of the debate. Too late to call, too late to back out. He found himself
relieved that the decision was taken out of his hands. For good or ill, he
now had to go through with it. He waited with as much faked bravado as he
could muster as she parked, and got out of the car.

He watched her walking towards him...and it struck him how long it had been
since he'd seen her. The last time had been at the grocery store shortly
after he'd gone to live with Giles. Years ago now. It felt like a lifetime.

It was a lifetime, he realized. He could remember everything he'd felt
that day -- things he had felt almost constantly in the years before he'd
finally run away. Things that he hadn't felt at all in so many months, he
could barely remember exactly when it had last been. Now, though, watching
her catch sight of him, he felt his insides tighten.

He found himself fingering the bracelet that Giles had given him that first
Christmas, the one that had his new name engraved on it. A concrete reminder
he had a new life now with people who loved him. She could only hurt him if
he let her.

That didn't stop him from tensing up the closer she got. It also didn't
stop him from wondering if he shouldn't have taken his bracelet off. He saw
the look on her face, as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Determined, a
little worried. A little frightened. Other than that, she looked just the
same.

He couldn't tell if the last three years had changed her.

He nodded a neutral greeting when she came up to him, doing his best to
keep his doubts and nervousness off his face. "Hi."

"Hello, sweetie," she said cheerfully, and put her hand on his arm, leaning
upwards to kiss his cheek.

Xander flinched back without thinking. She froze, blinking up at him
uncomprehendingly before it smoothed away and she just moved backwards,
letting her hand fall.

"I suppose we should go in," she said, quietly.

"Um, yeah." He turned to hold the door open for her, wondering if he
should've let her kiss him. But that was so unexpected, so completely unlike
her, except at funerals and in front of her husband's parents. But the
chance to pretend it was normal was gone, and she didn't seem scarred by
their exchange.

She didn't glance at him as she headed inside, and stopped to let Xander
precede her towards the host's stand. "Reservation for two," he told the
host when they got there. "Xander Harris-Giles."

She started, and turned to him. Didn't say anything, but her eyes had gone
wide. The host, meanwhile, had gathered up menus and was walking away.
Xander followed, and his mother followed him. He presumed she did, though
he could fairly feel her gaze boring into his skull.

When they sat down and the host left, she said in a soft voice, "I didn't
realize-- the paper had you listed that way, but I didn't realize you used
his name."

"Yeah." He fidgeted with his menu. "He-He's been good to me."

She didn't respond to that. She *might* have nodded as she picked up her
menu, but Xander couldn't tell. He was studying his own, grateful for the
reprieve, when he heard her say quietly, "But you kept Harris. That's
good."

Xander shrugged, uncomfortable with the assertion. "I'm still me."

She was nodding again, like she'd always known he was. As if there had
never been any question. "Are you getting the ribs? You always loved the
ribs here," she was saying in that once-again bright, mother tone.

"I was thinking I might, yeah," he replied, surprised she remembered.

She was nodding, now, smiling. Looking like she was happy that things were
still the same. "I'll probably get the salad and cream of chicken soup."

"And chocolate pie for dessert?" he asked, thinking back on one of the few
memories from his childhood that didn't hurt.

"Of course." Her smile told him that maybe she was thinking the same
thing.

"Might have to get two pieces this time."

There was a pause. "Oh, I don't know. They're pretty big pieces...at
least they used to be. I haven't been here in so long. But I don't think I
could eat a whole slice--" She glanced at him. "Oh, but I suppose you
could. You're still at that stage, aren't you? Eating everything in
sight..."

"Pretty much." He grinned. "Giles is always saying he should just buy the
grocery store, it would be cheaper."

She nodded, half-smiling. "I used to say that sort of thing to your
father. You were just getting to be a teenager, just starting to really
grow."

Xander's grin faded and he dropped his gaze as not so nice memories
reasserted themselves at his mother's words. "Yeah, but Giles doesn't beat
me if I ask for seconds."

"Don't be ridiculous, Alexander," she said sharply. "I know he hit you,
but he never *beat* you. That's absurd."

He looked up at her with disbelief, his stomach tightening in that old
familiar way. "What did he have to do before it would be 'beating' then? He
broke my arm, twice. He cracked my ribs at least that many times, probably
more. I can't even count the bruises..."

She frowned, and there were shades of the old, familiar, 'you don't know
what you're saying and I won't listen' on her face. Instead, she told him,
"He lost his temper. I *know* that. But saying it like that makes it
sound--" She shook her head. "He hit you. And I'm sorry. But anything
else is just exaggeration." She sounded like she was scolding him.

Pain that he thought he'd put behind him surged up, threatening to cut off
his voice. "You never believed me. Or you believed him. Same difference.
What would have it taken? Him killing me? Or would you have believed I'd
deserved that too?"

"I never said you deserved it," she whispered.

"You did by not stopping it. By not protecting me."

She didn't say anything to that. He hadn't really expected her to, but
then, he hadn't expected her to say anything. She stared down at her menu,
then smiled at the waitress who walked up. Her face showed none of what
they'd been saying a moment before as she ordered her salad and soup.

She'd always been good at faking normality to outsiders, Xander thought.
Just as he had been. Xander gave his order as well, then the menus were
taken away and with them the only legitimate distraction they had until
their food arrived.

His mother was looking around at the decor, as if they'd changed it in the
last twenty years.

"Didn't you ever love me?" Xander heard himself ask. "Even a little?"

"What?" She turned to him, astonishment dropping her jaw and widening her
eyes. "What an absurd thing to say! You're my baby boy, how could I not
love you?"

He shook his head. "I never felt..."

"Of course you did. I told you, and I always did what I could. I made
sure you had clothes and food and a roof over your head." Her voice was
hard, determined. But then it slipped, just a little. "I know we didn't
have much money for all those toys you wanted. But I saved all I could, to
buy you things. So you'd be like your friends. Those race cars, and that
helmet when you were five."

Xander didn't say anything. He had liked the cars...until his father had
broken them in front of him a week later because he'd spilt his milk at the
dinner table.

"You know I love you, Alexander," she said. "I did for you, what I could.
You know that." She seemed to be slipping back into her world of denial.

Xander shook his head wearily. "The clothes and the toys and the
things...they didn't matter. I'd given up everything you ever gave me if
you'd just kept him from hurting me."

Again she didn't answer. She was looking across the aisle, at the signs
and fake flowers nailed to the wall.

Suddenly angry, Xander warned, "Ignoring it doesn't make it go away. But it
might make *me* go away."

She sighed. "I just thought we could have a nice lunch. Can't you do
that? Without talking about him? Can't we just have a nice lunch together,
like we used to?"

"When was that?"

A sharp glare, and there was a time when that look had made him flinch.
"Are you deliberately being hateful?"

Xander shook his head. "I won't pretend anymore."

"I'm not asking you to pretend, I'm asking you to be civil. I invited you
to lunch because I thought it'd be nice. I haven't seen you in forever, and
I just wanted to see you and I thought we could talk. About something
pleasant." Her expression was wavering between screaming at him, and
breaking down. He wasn't sure what she'd do, here in the restaurant where
everyone would be staring.

"You're the one who brought my father up. He almost killed me, mom. I can't
sit and discuss what he did to me 'pleasantly.'"

"I--?" She blinked at him. "All I said was that I used to talk to him
about you. Is that so strange, that I used to talk to him about you?"

"Tell him I'm eating too much, I made a mess, I didn't do well at
school..."

"I didn't say you ate too much, I said you were growing up. I...I was
hoping he'd get a job and keep it, for a change, so I wouldn't have to
wonder if I could afford to feed you. I never told him about the messes you
made, and I...." She stopped, looked down at the table as the waitress
stopped by with her salad. She managed to whisper 'thank you'.

Xander waited until the waitress was gone. "Every time you talked to him
about me, he'd take it out on me." he said in a low voice, looking down at
the table. "I just wanted him to forget I existed."

"I'm sorry," she said, so quietly Xander wasn't completely sure she'd said
it. "I wanted things to be normal. Mothers talk about their sons...I'm
sorry."

Somewhere inside Xander those words resonated, echoing over and over. 'I'm
sorry.' In a voice that sounded strange even to himself he said, "That's the
first time you've ever apologized to me."

He saw her hand twitch, and wondered what she was thinking of doing. Play
with her fork? Reach for his hand? "I wish I didn't have to." He could
barely hear her. He wondered if he was supposed to pretend he hadn't.

"I wish..." His voice trailed off as too many ways of completing the
sentence all struggled to come out of his throat at once.

But she didn't look up at him. Instead she began eating her salad with a
fierce concentration.

Xander watched her silently for a long moment, his thoughts and emotions
all in a tangled ball. "Why did you send me the wallet?" he finally blurted.

Surprised, she looked up at him, fork halfway to her mouth. She set it
down, and asked, "Didn't you...I mean, did you like it? It was OK?"

"It was...nice."

She nodded, and went back to eating her salad. At first Xander thought she
wasn't going to answer his question. Then she said, "I didn't know what you
might need."

Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Don't take this the wrong way, but why did
you send anything at all?"

She blinked at him. "Because I'm your mother! What would people think if I
didn't send you a graduation present?"

Xander felt the hope he'd been trying to ignore begin to shrivel up. "Oh."

There were a few silent moments, and his mother went back to toying with
her salad. Then she said, "I asked him if it would be all right. Before I
sent anything."

There was an emphasis on 'him' that Xander couldn't tell if he liked. "He
has a name, you know."

There was a flinch, and she fumbled for some more salad dressing. "Why
don't we talk about something else?"

But Xander didn't want to let this go. "Giles isn't your adversary. He's
someone who's important to me." You should be grateful to him, he thought,
but didn't say.

She stirred a cherry tomato around in the salad dressing, then left it
sitting on the plate. "I'd rather not talk about him, Alexander. It's bad
enough I have to ask his permission to send you *mail* much less see you.
Why don't you tell me what your plans are for the summer?" She forced a
brighter tone into her voice as she asked.

"Spending it with my friends. And Giles." He was feeling stubborn now and
he welcomed the emotion as a pleasant change from the uncertainty of
earlier.

She just sighed, and said nothing more. Didn't look over at him, didn't
offer any more conversational efforts.

When the waitress brought Xander's food, he wasn't entirely sure he was
hungry anymore. But he picked up his fork and began eating anyway; it was
far better than sitting there watching his mother silently. They managed to
spend the next ten minutes eating, neither of them saying a word. Every
time Xander glanced over, his mother was looking down at her food, or off at
the far wall.

Eventually she asked awkwardly, "What about after the summer? Are you
getting a job somewhere?"

He shook his head. "I offered, but Giles told me to just enjoy my last
summer at home before I leave and I'm really not bringing him up
continuously just to annoy you."

"You're leaving?"

Xander blinked. "Yeah, I thought you knew. But then again how could you
have... Um. I'm going to college in Los Angeles."

She stared at him. "College?"

"Yeah, college."

She stared at him some more, and he was beginning to wonder if she had even
bothered to keep up with his life. When she'd called Giles, hadn't she
asked about him? "That's...nice. Wonderful," she finally managed.

"You really didn't know?"

She shook her head. "How was I to know? Who ever called me to tell me?
You know I was told to leave you alone, after--" She looked away. Looked
guilty. After she tried to make him come back. He remembered that phone
call, remembered his reaction and couldn't help but shiver. Another stretch
of awkward silence. Then, "But that's nice. College. College is good for
you." Her tone of voice returned to the cheerful, polite facade as she
said, "You know you'll be the first member of the family to go to college.
Not counting your Aunt Debbie."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he wasn't the first in Giles'
family, but stopped himself just in time. He wondered what she'd do if he
referred Giles as 'dad'.

"It will be so exciting, I'm sure," she was continuing, as if warming to
the subject. Something they could discuss, safely.

"Yeah, I guess. I've been taking some correspondence course the last couple
of years so I've got most of my first year completed already."

The startled stare wasn't so surprised, this time. Not because he thought
she'd known. Rather, he got the impression she was resigned to simply
discovering she knew nothing. "Correspondence courses? I suppose...you
must be pretty smart, to have taken college courses already."

"You seem surprised by that." He tried to keep the accusation out of his
voice as well as the knowledge at how much the doubt hurt.

"You always got Ds and Fs in school. Except when your little friends did
your homework. Jesse wrote all your essays in 8th grade. You got a 'C'
that year." There was little inflection in her tone' Xander couldn't tell
if she cared at all that he'd cheated in school.

"Maybe because I was told every day how stupid and worthless I was," Xander
shot back and this time he didn't even try to keep the edge from his voice.

She threw her fork down, suddenly. "I don't see why you have to constantly
attack me. I did the best I could. Maybe you don't appreciate that. But
you have no call to use that tone with me. I'm your *mother*. Did that man
teach you to no longer respect your elders?"

"He taught me to respect myself first," he shot back refusing to be cowed
by her anymore.

She gave him a look, one that reminded him of the looks she always gave
him, back when she only wanted him to stop making his dad hit him. She
leaned back, and he could see that she about to stand up.

"It wasn't my fault." The words seemed torn from deep inside him, a protest
that had been building all his life.

"And you're saying it was mine?" Her voice dripped, hard and angry. Or
maybe just defensive -- but Xander didn't care anymore.

"You were supposed to protect me, not make me feel like I brought it on
myself."

"Oh, so this is entirely my fault? Let's ignore what he ever did to *me*,
and just think about you. You could have stayed out of his way, you know."

"No, I couldn't," Xander murmured, then repeated it louder, eyes widening
as the truth of the words sunk it. "No, I couldn't. I was a kid. I didn't
have a choice to stay out of his way."

"You did, sometimes," she said.

Xander was struck by the absurdity of the conversation he was having. He
shook his head and pushed his plate away. "This was a bad idea."

"Yes. Maybe it was. I'm sorry, I thought you'd like to visit with me,
just once in your life." She pulled her purse onto the table, and opened
it.

"I got it," Xander said, reaching for his wallet.

She stopped, and set her purse aside...then her eyes widened as she saw
what he was holding. She pulled her purse to her side and said, "I guess
I'll go." And she got up, and walked away.

Xander sat there and watched her go, bewildered. Until he looked
down...and saw the wallet in his hand. The wallet that wasn't the one his
mother had given him. Xander wondered if he should feel guilty about that,
without actually feeling the emotion. He pulled out a few bills and left
them on the table, then left, himself.

***********

He drove more or less on autopilot to Buffy's house. Not really thinking
about anything at all, just letting his hands and feet drive while the rest
of him floated.
He parked in the Summers' driveway, absently noticing the other cars. Got
out, walked to the door, and rang the bell. Buffy opened it, but behind her
Willow, Oz, and Giles were hovering while trying to look like they were not
hovering. Oz was the only one who managed the air of casualness.

"Hey." Xander gave them as much of a smile as he could dredge up.

It couldn't have been very successful because all of their expressions
became even more blatantly concerned. "Didn't go too well, huh?" Willow
asked quietly, reaching out to touch his arm.

"Of course, went great, the food was--" His attempt at whatever humour he
could throw out fell flat. Too-long unused defense mechanisms were rusty and
he stopped, not even sure he wanted to make up a lie about the food he
hadn't even tasted. Xander let Willow pull him forward, into the house, but
he went directly to Giles, who didn't say anything, just pulled him into his
arms and hugged him tightly.

Willow and Buffy didn't say anything, though he felt a light touch of a
hand on his back. He heard movement farther away. He peeked out to see
Joyce standing nearby, watching. Remembering Buffy's offer, he found
himself wondering, insanely, if maybe she'd meant it.

The look in Joyce's eyes as she watched made him wonder if Buffy had
already talked it over with her. But for the moment, he was fine. Happy,
content, secure -- or at least not curious enough about it to actually let
go of Giles. Being wrapped in this man's arms was like a security
blanket -- the tattered old red scrap he'd finally let Willow bury behind
the tree when they were eleven.

"I'm sorry," Giles said in a voice meant for his ears only.

Xander tightened his hold a little, but turned his head so he could say
clearly, "It wasn't all that bad. It wasn't...she was just...she didn't
want to talk about you and she didn't understand why I--" He stopped. "She
tried, but it just wasn't working."

"Well, that's worth something," Willow said, obviously trying to sound
encouraging. "That she's trying."

"I guess." Xander kept his head pressed against Giles' chest, and it
occurred to him that Giles wasn't saying anything. In point of fact, he was
standing very, very still. Xander wondered, if he looked up, if he'd see
Rupert or Ripper peering out of his eyes. Xander smiled, faintly, and
didn't look up.

"Do you want to go home?" Giles asked.

"No." He said it without thinking, but then realized that he liked having
a lot of people standing around, being protective and concerned.
Especially...well, he could maybe see just how borrowable Joyce really was,
without actually...borrowing her.

"We were going to rent some videos to watch," Buffy said. "You can have
first choice."

"Can we watch vampire movies?"

"As long as I get to heckle them." Buffy grinned.

"And I can criticise the victims' escape plans," Willow added.

Xander returned their smiles. "Deal."

Part Eleven

He was settled on the couch in between Giles and Buffy. Willow was on the 
floor in front of them, and Joyce was in the armchair on the other side of 
Buffy. Xander felt quite surrounded. 

It was a nice sensation. They'd not only let him pick the first video but 
gave him veto power on all the other choices. The result being an afternoon 
Xander-fav film festival. 
He was still debating torturing them, seeing just how far he could push 
their sympathies. Unfortunately for that plan, Willow would happily watch 
anything he'd want to see, and Buffy would happily watch anything he would, 
except tapes of professional wrestling. That left torturing Giles and 
Joyce -- and that was too easy as to not be fun. 

It *would* be fun to watch their faces when he asked for _Fearless Tiger_. 
Giles never could sit still during a subtitled movie, especially when it was 
badly dubbed. Eventually he started correcting the translations. 

That was why he had snuck it into the pile after all. He just needed to 
weigh the benefits of hauling it out now versus hauling it out later in the 
movie watching. 


The benefit of now was getting to see Giles' reaction. Now. The benefit 
of later, was lulling him into a false sense of predictability. All the 
other titles -- which he'd let Giles see them renting -- were the same 
vampire movies he always rented. 

There was even Nosferatu, which he, Willow, and Buffy had MST3K'ed into a 
soap opera, the last dozen times they'd rented it. Actually that would be a 
good one to start with, warm up the old heckling muscles on an old favourite 
before moving onto harder material. Besides which, the last time they'd 
MST3K'ed it, Buffy's mom had joined in, and played the part of the cloned 
grandmother of the wandering amnesiac vampire lover. Maybe they could get 
Giles to join, too.... 

Yes, definitely start with Nosferatu. He grinned and pulled it from the 
pile. Willow clapped as he handed it to her, and she put it into the VCR. 
Buffy raised an eyebrow, and Giles asked, "Dare I wonder why 'Nosferatu' is 
such a joyful movie?" 

Xander looked at him, as innocently as he could. 

"Oh dear," Giles said faintly. 

"You don't have to play," Willow told him, in what was meant to be a 
reassuring manner. 

"Play?" 

"Play," Buffy repeated. "It's all right," she continued in her 'soothing 
the old people' tone. "You can just watch." 

Xander grinned at the look of exasperation that crossed Giles' face. It 
was nice seeing it turned towards someone *besides* him. "Just watch," 
Giles repeated mostly to himself, dubiously. 

"And listen. Clap, even, if you like," Willow added, helpfully. 

"Or you can be long lost brother, who escaped from the monastery after 
being exiled by our insane, murderous father," Joyce offered, almost 
managing to hide her grin. 

"Oh god. You've turned it into a soap opera." 

"D'uh!" Xander and Willow said together. 

"Seemed appropriate," Oz said. 

Giles looked at them all for a long moment. "It would." 

"So? Shall I start it now, or does Giles need time to figure out his 
character?" Willow asked. Everyone looked at Giles. 

"I think I can wing it." 

Xander bounced, earning himself a look or five of amusement from everyone 
else. This would get Giles into a wonderfully silly mood...then they'd hit 
him with the subtitles. The afternoon thus planned out, he settled in to 
enjoy the show. 

************** 

He was still trying to hold back chuckling at Giles when they finally left 
Buffy's house. Giles was giving him dark, 'you did that on purpose' looks, 
which only made him want to laugh more. He managed to control himself, 
somewhat, on the drive home -- by virtue of being the one driving. He 
turned up the radio, though, and glanced over often to see Giles holding his 
hand over his eyes and mouthing something that looked like 'my god, give me 
strength'. Or maybe it was a Sumerian curse on rock music. 

Xander kept laughing and stifling laughter, until he pulled into the 
parking spot next to Giles' Citroen. Then, on the way to their apartment, 
he started -- once again -- quoting the lines which had gotten Willow and 
Buffy rolling on the floor. 

Giles gave a long suffering sigh as he opened the door. Xander bounced 
into the living room, grinning and thinking about which line to quote back 
to him next -- the bit about the dangerous laundry soap makers was a 
classic, but most of the joke was in the build-up. Or he could repeat 
Joyce's line about being married off to the umbrella stand, and how Oz had 
stepped in with the lines for the stand, to accept. 

Instead he bounced again, tossing his keys and jacket down and realizing 
that no one had taken the movies back which meant they could go watch them 
again, tomorrow -- and stopped. Giles had been in the process of hanging 
his own jacket up and paused. "Xander?" 

"Nothing." He headed towards the kitchen. Soda was good. Maybe they had 
some candy bars left over from...yesterday. 

Giles followed him in. "It doesn't look like nothing," he ventured quietly. 

"Nah, I'm fine. Just too much fun for one day." He opened the fridge, 
stared inside for a bit and tried to decide what he wanted. There wasn't 
any coke left. He slammed the door shut again. 

A hand came down on his shoulder. "And the part that wasn't fun?" 

"What?" Xander turned towards him, not sure what he meant. The whole 
afternoon had been fun -- even being sent to make more popcorn had got he 
and Oz into a popcorn fight, missing ten minutes of the movie. Well, as 
much of a popcorn fight as one could hope to get Oz into -- no kernels had 
actually been thrown. A verbal popcorn fight, one could say, and Xander 
realized he was staring at Giles, who was looking worried. 

"Maybe we should talk about your lunch." 

"Lunch? I didn't have--" He stopped. "No. I don't wanna talk about it." 

Giles nodded. "But do you need to?" 

He found himself nodding, even though he *wanted* to say no. He wanted 
soda, and chocolate, and more movies or video games. Video games he could 
do, all night. 

"Shall I make some hot chocolate?" Giles asked. 

"Sure," he was nodding again, and it was like his body was doing it without 
even consulting him. Moving after Giles, as he took the necessary two steps 
to get a couple of mugs down, and fill the teapot with water. Xander opened 
the cupboard and got down the hot cocoa mix -- Cadburys, the good kind, that 
his grandparents sent over. 

"What happened at the restaurant?" Giles prodded gently as they continued 
the preparations. 

"Nothing. We talked. We ate, we left. Early. She didn't--" He was 
bouncing again. 

"She didn't what?" Giles tone was calm and level. 

"Wanna stay." Why would she, after all? All he'd wanted to talk about was 
himself, his life, his relationship with his so-called father. She'd wanted 
to have a more pleasant time. 

"Did she give a reason?" Again, that same calm level voice. 

"I wouldn't play nice," he said, and surged forward to grab his mug, and 
start scooping cocoa into it. He got to five scoops before he stopped. He 
only stopped because Giles made no move to stop him. It wasn't as much fun 
when it was allowed. Maybe one more. He added the sixth scoop, then began 
to stir. "She wouldn't talk about it." 

"About...your father?" 

"Anything. You, him, growing up. All she wanted to talk about was... how 
good it was. Things she missed. Complain that she didn't know me 
anymore...." He stopped stirring, knowing that the rest of the sludge was 
never going to dissolve, and if he kept trying he'd just stir it out of the 
mug. 

"She doesn't." Giles looked at him seriously over his own mug. "I don't 
know if you realize it, but Xander, you've changed, grown so much in the 
last few years." 

"I think she meant ever." Xander took a sip, then had to rub his nose on 
his sleeve to get the extra powder off. "She acted like it was all my 
fault--" 

"It wasn't. None of it was your fault." 

"But she--" Was he defending her? Explaining her? 

Giles remained quiet, waiting for him to finish the thought, to figure out 
what it was he was thinking. 

"She said it was. Why would she think it was my fault?" 

"What exactly did she say? What words did she use?" Giles' tone was oddly 
intent, reminding Xander of debriefing Buffy after an altercation. 

Xander tried to think. He couldn't seem to make his brain go back there, 
though. He'd get as far as 'she ordered salad and accused me of eating too 
much and getting me into trouble' and his mind would go skittering off into 
wondering if they had marshmallows for his cocoa. 

"Xander?" 

"What?" Xander looked over. "Do we have marshmallows? I didn't make him 
do it. She said I should have stayed out of the way. I ate too much, 
sometimes. I was supposed to stay out of the way. She did." 

Giles was silent for a long moment, looking at him consideringly. 

He looked back down at his mug of cocoa. "I didn't mean to," he found 
himself saying. It wasn't what he was trying to remember, but it came out 
anyhow. 

"I know," Giles said, reaching out and touching Xander's hand. 

"She wouldn't listen to me," he said, and that sounded more like what it 
was. 

"Maybe she couldn't. Not about this." 

"You do." He left his mug of cocoa alone, his stomach not feeling up to 
even the chocolately goodness of too much cocoa powder not enough liquid. 
His mom had caught him, once, eating it straight from the canister. She'd 
laughed. 

Giles said quietly, "I don't have defense mechanisms I've developed to let 
me survive with myself. Not about what happened to you." 

He thought about that, for a moment. Then he looked up. "Huh?" 

"She might not be able to look objectively at what happened in your 
childhood because she isn't strong enough to emotionally." 

"*She* isn't strong enough? He never hurt *her*." 

"Perhaps not physically, but that is a small part of what can hurt." He 
looked at Xander seriously. "And her own actions -- and inactions -- would 
have done their damage as well." 

"Yeah, every time she just *stood* there and let him...or left and 
pretended she didn't know what was gonna happen." Xander felt himself 
trembling again, and forced himself to stop. "I hated that she knew, and 
didn't care." 

"I am in no way defending her, there is no excuse for what she let happen 
to you, but I think she did care. Does care. If she didn't would she have 
reached out to you?" 

Xander shrugged. "She said she had to look like she knew what I was doing. 
Maybe her family keeps asking about me, and she can't say she has no clue." 
Except...she hadn't said that, really. She'd been...sort of actually 
interested. For a little while. 

"Is that what you truly believe?" Giles asked softly. 

"I don't know." He looked over at Giles, again. "Why'd she wait til now, 
if she really was interested?" 

Giles shifted nervously. "Actually, that would be my fault." 

"You what?" Talk about completely unexpected.... 

"She's been phoning once or twice a year, but after what happened when your 
father died, I told her I wouldn't let her talk to you until you were 18." 

Xander stared at him, totally unable to comprehend what he was hearing. 
She'd called? She'd *called*? And Giles hadn't ever told? 

Apparently there were some secrets he'd been able to keep. 

Giles was now looking down at his mug and not at Xander. "I thought it was 
for the best at the time, but-" 

Xander put his hand on Giles' arm. When Giles raised his head, Xander 
scooted forward, inserting himself into a hug with long practised ease. 
She'd called, and Giles had kept it from him. Protecting him. 

But she'd called. 

Giles' arms came around him and hugged tightly. "Does that change things?" 

"She called." Which meant she had been checking on him. She'd wanted to 
know -- even if she didn't have a lot of details about his life. Maybe she 
hadn't remembered them. Maybe she hadn't called recently. She might have 
only called to ask 'is he still breathing?' 

"Yes. Usually around your birthday and end of school year." 

Xander found himself smiling. He tightened his hug. She'd called, she'd 
cared, and he hadn't had to deal with her. He was thrilled and upset and 
confused, but it was better than what he'd been feeling. Better than 
thinking she'd just written him off the moment he'd stepped out of their 
house. As much as he'd wanted her to leave him alone after he'd run into 
her at the store and taken her call after his father had died, he was 
relieved to know she hadn't. Not really. "Did she--" He stopped, not 
entirely sure he wanted to know. 

"Did she what?" Giles asked, and his tone made it sound like he already 
knew what Xander needed to know. 

"What did she ask about me? Did she...because she said she didn't know I 
was going to college or anything. Did she ask for details, or just...." 
Xander looked at Giles, and found himself fairly calm when he asked, "What 
did she want to know?" 

He could see the sadness that Giles tried to hide. It was there in his 
eyes, hidden behind the layer of everything he felt for Xander. Insanely, 
it made Xander want to ask every hard, hurtful, difficult question he could, 
just so he could see how much Giles cared about him. He held his tongue, 
and Giles answered honestly. "Sometimes she wanted to know everything I 
would tell her. Sometimes she only called to see that you were...well, 
still doing all right." 

"Still alive, you mean?" 

There was a pause, then Giles nodded. "I'm sorry, Xander." 

For some reason that made him feel better, more so than anything else 
had -- besides the hug. The hugs were always the best. Xander shrugged, 
and tried for a casual air he didn't really think he needed. "It's nothing 
can be changed. I...should be glad I got as much as I did from her." He 
stopped himself from saying that it was little enough. He was tired of 
being bitter about his mother. 

He was tired, period. 

"She called before you'd actually graduated, last time. Asked how you were 
doing, but you hadn't decided if you were going to college, yet. I couldn't 
very well tell her about the Ascension, so I'm afraid I might not have 
shared very much detail with her. When she called to invite you to 
lunch...I thought you would decide what to tell her, yourself. I'm sorry, 
perhaps if--" 

"You're apologising?" Xander interrupted. "No, no, don't apologise for 
her. Don't *ever* apologize for her." Anger spilled out of the corners of 
his mind, without warning. "She knew how to ask. She could have asked or 
said or done anything she wanted. At any time. Don't you *dare* apologize 
for her. You weren't the one who hurt me." 

His quick anger surprised him as much as the look on Giles' face. 
Surprise, there, but something else. Stronger, almost like Xander's words 
meant something more than what Xander intended them for. "I...I hadn't 
meant to apologize *for* her," he said quietly, but Xander wasn't so sure 
Giles wouldn't have. Giles would have said anything, he suddenly thought, 
if it meant making some of Xander's pain go away. "I simply...I suppose I 
wish I could have made things go a bit better." 

"You did. Believe me, if someone else could make my mother do something 
she didn't want to do...I'd have...." He looked away. Without warning he 
was held tightly, again, pressed against Giles' chest. 

"I'm sorry, Xander. I wish...." 

Xander held onto him, and didn't try to object this time. 

Part Twelve

It took him a few days of trying to think about it - playing Final Fantasy 
and Tomb Raider and listening to music and not really thinking about it at 
all for hours at a time - before he could go back to Giles. No one had said 
anything about it in that time; patrol was devoted to talking about college 
and reminiscing about monsters slain, afternoons with Willow were devoted to 
college and boyfriends and is this really what I want to do with my life. 

Easy stuff. Stuff Xander didn't mind talking about because he could say 
anything at all and retract it a day later. Things that involved 'why did 
she' tended to dry up in his mind and blow away before he could get much 
past understanding that he didn't understand. 

Eventually, though, he'd managed to actually think about it; got past 'why' 
and all the way to 'to me' once or twice. He knew he probably wasn't going 
to get past that by himself - and he wasn't so sure he wanted to. So, one 
morning after staring at his computer and pretending to shoot bad guys with 
animated bullets, he got up and went to find some help. 

Giles was reading in the living room, something that was making him scowl 
and scribble notes and get up to check other references every few minutes. 
Xander happened to know it was a work of fiction and had no bearing on the 
state of the Hellmouth - he also knew how the story ended, because he'd 
snuck a look at the last page and emailed it to his grandmum. 

He stood in the hallway for a moment, watching Giles read and wondering what 
he would do if Xander offered to tell him how the story ended. Before he 
could distract himself debating, he said, "Dad?" The word felt funny. 

Giles looked up immediately. "Yes?" He was already setting the book aside, 
as though he'd been expecting this. Knew what it was about. 

"Can I...." Xander didn't know if he wanted to ask him about it, or try to 
tell him what he'd been thinking. All he really wanted were answers. 

"Come here." Giles waved his hand towards the couch beside him, and Xander 
gratefully went over. Maybe he wouldn't have to say anything at all. He 
sat down and leaned over, up against Giles. "You've been thinking about 
your mother?" 

"Yeah-" He stopped, then admitted, "Not really. I keep trying to. But I 
can't concentrate on it. But...she's gonna call again." 

"Yes, I imagine she will. You're wondering what you should say - if, in 
fact, you should talk to her at all?" 

Xander nodded. What if she wanted to try lunch again? What if she didn't? 

"What do you want to do?" Giles sounded calm and straight-forward, 
reminding Xander of the times he'd helped Xander write his English papers. 

"I don't know." 

"Do you want to see her again?" Giles asked quietly. 

"No." Xander closed his eyes. 

Equally quietly, Giles asked, "Do you want to never see her again?" 

Xander kept his eyes closed. "No," he whispered. His stomach was 
threatening to turn over, and he felt Giles hug him tightly. He knew he was 
being unreasonable - he expected Giles to tell him he couldn't have it both 
ways and he'd better decide. 

But Giles didn't say anything. He just sat there, and held him. Xander 
waited for him to respond, waited for Giles to help him figure out which he 
wanted to do. Or which he *had* to do, regardless. Minutes passed, and 
Giles still didn't say anything. Xander turned a little in the embrace, and 
looked up at him. 

Giles was wiping his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said as he put his glasses back 
on. "Whenever we have a battle against evil - the Mayor or vampires or 
Judalthia demons or whatever...I always wish our fight could be easier. 
That the stakes were lower, and the search for answers an easier one. I 
find myself wishing that I had an instruction book that said 'go to this 
address and place a bit of lilac on the monster's chest and that will 
destroy the evil creatures before they can arise next year and destroy 
things.' But I forget that those battles *are* easier. Because we know 
that there *are* answers to be found. We know that eventually we will be 
right, and the evil will be destroyed by something, if not by us then our 
descendants." 

When Giles fell silent, Xander just stared at him. He knew what Giles 
meant, but he was surprised to hear him saying it. "So you don't have the 
answers either, huh?" Xander teased, half-heartedly. He leaned back 
against Giles, turning around to settle in. 

"I do have some," Giles surprised him. "The first is that whatever you 
decide, I will support you. However is needed - if you want me to accompany 
you to see her, or want me to be the one to tell her off. Whichever you 
decide. The second answer is that goes for your friends, as well. You 
don't have to face her - face any of this - alone." 

Xander closed his eyes again. He'd known that, really. Deep down inside. 
He hadn't been thinking of it, though, when he tried to think about her. A 
thought occurred, and he asked, "Would grandmum come and help? I mean, if I 
invited her to go to lunch with us...." The idea appealed. Xander had a 
feeling that if anyone could make his mother behave - however it was he 
wished she would behave - it would be Maggie. 

"Of course. She'd be here immediately, if you asked her." 

"Would Kendra and Wesley come slay her?" he asked, joking this time to 
distract himself from jumping up now, to make the phone call. 

Giles' tone was light when he asked, "Why not Buffy?" 

"For that matter, why not Angel? He could bite her. Or Oz could bite her. 
Think she'd come around if she had to turn into a wolf every month?" 

"Perhaps," Giles said, still lightly, but with a hint of a verbal nudge. 

Xander sighed. "Yeah, I know. I can't exactly have her beaten up because 
she *didn't* do anything." 

Which made him think of talking to Spike. Not talking to Spike - she'd end 
up dead if he said the wrong thing, if Spike decided she'd hurt him and got 
pissed off about it. Maybe he would agree to just scare her? 

But for what purpose? Scare her into being nice to Xander? Was that what 
he wanted? 

"Assuming, that is, you wish her to leave you alone." Giles' words echoed 
his thoughts. 

And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Did he want her to be nice, or did 
he not want her at all? He shook his head. "I can't decide this." 

"You do know you can change your mind." 

"But which would I pick, first? If I tell her I'll have lunch with her, do 
I have to right away? What if she-" Xander wished he could just make the 
problem go away. Keep his eyes closed and pretend it wasn't there and he 
wouldn't have to deal. 

Rather like she had done all his life. 

His stomach hurt. He felt Giles reaching up, then lay his hand on the side 
of Xander's head. A kiss was pressed against his temple, and he heard, "I'm 
sorry, Xander. I wish I could make all this go away." 

"You don't know any spells that make mothers vanish?" 

There was a soft chuckle. "If there were, I dare say I would have used it 
when I was eight." 

"What'd you do?" 

After a short pause, Giles said in an amused-affronted tone, "I wanted to 
make *her* vanish. Why not ask what she had done?" 

"Because you were eight. I bet she caught you doing something you weren't 
supposed to be doing. Made you go to your room or something, and you 
stomped off, yelling that you were gonna make her disappear." 

There was a longer pause that time. Then, "I didn't yell. And she hadn't 
sent me to my room - she sent me to *her* room. Perhaps because she knew 
about the tree...." 

"What'd you do?" Xander asked again. 

"Oh, I don't recall, really. I just remember-" 

Xander looked up at him, briefly. "What did you do? Or can I call grandmum 
and ask her?" 

Giles sighed. "It may have involved a can of paint and my father's study. 
But honestly, I don't recall exactly what I did. Only that...well...she 
greatly misunderstood my purpose in doing it. I was trying to be artistic. 
Er, so I imagine." 

Xander smiled, though he didn't quite feel better enough to laugh, as was 
warranted. "I think I should ask grandmum what you did. I haven't heard 
any good 'when Rupert was a lad' stories in almost a week." 

"She'll soon run out of stories, you know. You mustn't use them all up." 

"Won't. She'll have stories for years. One story a week, for the next 
twenty years - then she can start in on the stories about you when you were 
older." 

"You sound very certain," Giles observed, dryly. 

"I am." Xander sighed, once. Still not quite better, he felt a lot calmer 
than he had been. His stomach wasn't threatening to do anything imminently, 
and he didn't feel like he was about to break into a hundred pieces if 
anyone walked up behind him. 

"You realise she might be making them up, to entertain you." 

Xander raised his head, and gave Giles a stern look. "She has photographic 
evidence." 

"Oh god. She hasn't *shown* you-" 

Xander grinned. 

"They might have been faked," Giles said quickly. "I understand those 
infernal machines will allow you to do anything with a photograph. Make it 
appear as though a small child were smearing mud on the hall carpet when in 
fact he was just playing with his toys." 

"She hasn't shown me *that* one." Xander widened his eyes, to look 
excited. "I should definitely go call her." 

Giles tried to look put-upon, but Xander could see he was starting to smile. 
There was the look in his eyes that made Xander feel warm inside, and for a 
moment he didn't really care about seeing incriminating photos of Giles. He 
laid back against Giles, re-settling himself once again into the embrace, 
sighing when Giles squeezed hard, briefly. 

"That woman is dangerous with a camera," Giles remarked. 

"You said that after she showed us the pictures she took after our first 
trip to England." 

"And I was right. You agreed with me, as I recall." 

"Just because she sent a copy of the photo of us asleep to every relative we 
have." Xander was still of mixed feelings about that photo. One the one 
hand, he agreed with Maggie that it was sweet. He, asleep under the covers, 
and Giles curled up beside him. On the other hand, he remembered that 
night, and what had driven him to need Giles beside him. 

What really disturbed him was because *he* could see, even if no one else 
could, just exactly what he wished the photo was. He hadn't looked at the 
photo since Maggie had sent it. Hadn't even shown it to Willow. 

"It's probably a good thing you didn't make her vanish when you were eight, 
though," Xander said, trying to get back to the better part of the 
conversation. 

"Yes, it is." Giles sounded like he was smiling. 

"Think we can find a spell to make her camera vanish?" 

Part Thirteen

Xander stayed on the couch, even when Giles picked his book back up.
Xander held one of the books Giles was using to cross-check his
translations, and thought absently about whether he mention the ending. He
didn't care so much about teasing Giles, anymore, nor did he want to ruin
Giles' fun. He considered going to get a book of his own to read, but
didn't feel like moving.

Absently, attention still focused on what he was reading, Giles put his arm
around Xander again, letting him lean against him. He relaxed, and glanced
at the book Giles was reading. He remembered one or two of the words from
when his grandmum had sent the translated page back. By the time Giles
turned a page, Xander had picked out a third word he knew.

When the phone rang, Xander wasn't sure he wanted to move to answer it.
But if he didn't, Giles would, so he finally leaned over and picked up the
phone. "Giles residence. How may we serve you today?"

"Xander?"

Xander froze. He found himself being pulled back against Giles, heard
Giles asking quietly, "Who is it?"

Xander just looked up at him, as he said, "Yeah?" into the phone.

"Am I...Is this a bad time?"

"No," he said automatically, though as he said it, it occurred to him he
might have said 'yes'. Said 'yes' and hung up on her. He tightened his
grip on Giles' arm.

Giles frowned at him and asked again. "Who is it?"

Xander mouthed 'my mom' even as she said into his ear, "Well, that's good,
dear."

Giles straightened. "Do you want me to take it?" he asked quietly enough
that Xander's mother couldn't hear.

He hesitated, but shook his head. Found himself asking, "What's up?" in a
casual tone. Like he did when Willow called for the third time in one day,
and there wasn't any reason, really, to be calling.

"I was...I thought I'd call...."

Xander could hear how uncertain she was, and found himself feeling
sympathetic, in response. He opened his mouth to tell her everything was
fine, but stopped himself. Somehow, though, he said instead, "I'm sorry
about lunch." He didn't know why he'd apologized, didn't know if he meant
it. But whichever way he wished it had gone, he knew he was sorry it had
gone the way it had.

There was a long pause. "So am I," his mother said softly.

He bit his tongue over the well-trained polite habit he didn't know he had.
Didn't want to invite her to try it again. Didn't want to keep sitting
here, numb and awkward, either. He pressed himself harder into Giles'
embrace. Giles' arms tightened around him and he asked with a raised
eyebrow if Xander wanted him to take over.

"I called...to see if you'd like to try again."

And there it was. The question he knew he'd hear, the only reason she'd be
calling. The only thing he hadn't known was whether she would pretend
nothing had gone wrong, before, or actually admit it and want to do better.
He still didn't know what he wanted to do. He glanced up at Giles, again,
wondering if he wanted to hand the phone over or say yes or say no or just
talk for a while. Giles raised his hand towards the phone, not taking it,
but repeating his offer, allowing Xander to accept it without having to say
a word. Into the phone, Xander said quietly, "I don't know."

There was silence. Xander couldn't bring himself to break it, and he waited
to hear her respond. Or hang up. Or *something*.

Giles took the phone out of his hand. Xander watched as Giles first
listened for a moment, then said in a very kind voice, "I think it best if
you wait a bit longer. Perhaps Xander should call you, the next time."

Xander could hear the firmness in Giles' tone, that this was not a request.
He wanted to grab the phone back and tell her he didn't mean it, that of
course she could still...still what? Still call? Still meet him for lunch?
Still pretend that he'd imagined everything, like the monster under his bed
that had kept him awake when he was four?

He watched as Giles listened a moment longer, then said simply, "Yes.
Good-bye, Mrs. Harris."

Giles handed the phone back, and Xander took it and hung it up. Stared at
it for a long time, even after Giles pulled him close again and wrapped his
arms around Xander's chest.


**********

Xander flung himself across the bed, and ignored his boyfriend. Letting
himself bounce on the mattress, he considered getting back up just so he
could fling himself onto the bed again, and bounce. Get up, fling, repeat.
Maybe he could get Spike to jump on the bed, so he could lie here and
bounce.

Then he raised his head and looked at his vampire. "What?"

"Was wondering if you were listening." Spike smiled, but his eyes were
narrowed, slightly.

"That would be a 'no'." Xander pushed himself up, enough to pull his legs
up and sit on the bed.

Spike sighed, though it sounded a little forced. "Suppose that answers my
question, then. If you don't feel like doing anything, wanna shag?"

Xander rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to make a witty retort, and
stopped. Reconsidered his witty retort. Looked at Spike. "Sure." He
pushed himself upright, sitting cross-legged on the bed as he pulled his
shirt up and off, then tossed it onto the floor.

He found Spike looking at him, blinking as though he hadn't meant the offer
seriously. His hesitation didn't last, though, and he flung his cigarette
away, sending sparks scattering across the floor. Then he began removing
his own shirt, tossing it in a crumbled heap on the bed. Xander wondered
what it was Spike had been saying -- he honestly hadn't been listening,
hadn't even thought that Spike might have been talking to him. He'd been
wandering around in a mother-induced fog all day, and he'd finally headed
over to Spike's place in an effort to get rid of his fugue. It hadn't
really worked until Spike said 'wanna shag'.

When he'd stripped his jeans off, Xander leaned back on his elbows, and let
Spike indulge in some ogling. Sometimes the amount of ogling Spike wanted
to engage in made him nervous, and he had to try to stop himself from
covering parts of himself with his hands. But today, right now, letting
Spike look, seeing the expression on Spike's face made parts of his brain
shut down. Not enough blood to fuel the brain cells *and* the happy
pleasure centers. From the look of things, the happy pleasure centers were
in for a lot of happy.

Spike seemed to be feeling a bit happy, himself. His jeans were still on,
but he was moving towards Xander's cock like he could smell the blood
filling it, and wanted nothing more than to suck Xander dry. Xander gasped
as the thought sent every last remaining ounce of coherency spiraling into
arousal; his cock hardened until he thought he'd come just from Spike
breathing on him.

Which he might have, if Spike breathed. As it was, Spike was going to get
close enough to touch him, and Xander would already be counting down to
round two. "Whacha thinking, Xan?" came a low, unnecessarily-seductive
voice.

Xander blinked at the vampire, lying between his legs, face inches away from
his cock. Naked, spread out beneath a half-dressed blood-sucker,
half-dressed lover who had done this before a hundred times and still
Xander's body reacted like it was still week one. Xander whimpered and let
his head fall back.

"What," Spike moved closer, and Xander felt cool air brush his cock, "were
you thinking?"

"You," Xander managed, not sure why or how he'd managed not to come, so hard
he couldn't even twitch when Spike's fingers grabbed his thighs and spread
his legs a little more.

"Me, what?"

Another almost-felt brush of skin on skin, something along his inner thigh
and his balls, air or fingers or imagination. He could look, and see. He
left his head down and watched the ceiling. "You...sucking. Blood, cock,
suck...oh," Xander stopped, gurgled something he knew wasn't any language
he'd learned to pronounce. Gurgled and lost all contact with his brain,
because Spike's tongue was on him, swirling and licking and the faint scrape
of not-tongue, up his cock and pressing gently on the head. He felt his
legs shaking and his entire body tightening as the orgasm crushed his mind,
closing in like the fingers on his legs holding him down.

He was still hard, and still breathing, and still being sucked when he
regained what few of his senses he had. He tried to speak, heard only a
groan.

Spike stopped what he was doing and raised his head. "Like that?"

He didn't know if it was the obvious question, 'was that what you meant' or
the really stupid one, 'did you enjoy that'. He settled for answering
neither, and panting. Air before voice, anyhow, he told himself. Had
nothing to do with wanting Spike to do it again, and again, and again until
Xander had spent hours doing nothing like thinking.

"Want me to do it again?"

Xander was able to nod. Vigorously. When Spike laughed and Xander felt the
rumble through his legs and his groin, he almost came again.


**********************


Four hours later, Xander peered over towards the clock. Naked, exhausted,
and sticky, he was beginning to think there was something he'd forgotten.
Other than a shower, there was something he'd told himself he had to
remember to do. Sex? Done it. Suck Spike? Done. Not think about things?
Done...til now. Xander closed his eyes...and discovered he was too tired to
think. Hooray for plans that go right, he told himself.

He turned his head to other direction and found Spike asleep beside him.
Pale face almost soft, sleep having removed all the lines of anger and lust
and nonchalance. Xander wanted to reach out and touch it, but he knew as
soon as he moved he'd wake the vampire. If he hadn't already, just by
looking for the time. Not too late at night, even though he couldn't stay.
Couldn't stay tonight, or any other night until he went to LA and Spike went
with him.

He felt his stomach tighten. That was what he'd forgotten. In all the
confusion of his mother trying to make a place for herself in his life
again, Xander had lost the question he'd been fighting with ever since Spike
had told him so casually that he would follow Xander to LA. Follow him
wherever he wanted to go.

Live with him.

Xander felt his stomach tighten again. No more sneaking out, sneaking in,
wandering up to the roof and hoping the sound-muffle spell held. No more
waking up alone and thinking about how many hours or days until he could
think up a reason to go find Spike, or call, or wait til sunset and wait by
the window to see if Spike would show. They were gonna live together.

Live together, and hope that when Giles or Willow or Buffy or his
grandparents called, Spike didn't answer the phone. Hope that no one drove
down for a surprise visit. Live together and hope that Spike's nature
didn't find living with his natural prey to be more compelling than living
with someone he could shag any minute of the day.

He didn't *think* Spike would do such a thing. 'Yeah, he'd never eat a
human, right.' Xander closed his eyes and pressed his head very carefully
back into the pillow. He wasn't afraid of Spike. Not anymore, not really,
not enough that it mattered. He was more afraid of letting Giles down, than
he was of Spike suddenly deciding that boffing Xander wasn't as much fun as
draining him of the important stuff.

If Spike was going to change his mind, he'd have done so before now. Gone,
last year, when Xander had asked him to, and stayed gone. Instead he'd come
back and behaved himself and never even gotten near Xander's veins with his
teeth. Never mentioned where he'd been when Xander showed up at the
warehouse early, and Spike came in after him and walked off to brush his
teeth before he'd let Xander kiss him.

Xander liked to think that meant Spike had no intention of killing him.
Liked to think Spike wanted to pretend as much as Xander did, when Xander
came by with the dust still on his jeans, when he had to ditch a few stakes
outside the door, when he had to leave suddenly just as night was falling,
because someone he didn't mention was waiting for him to join her on patrol.

When they were living together, would they still be able to pretend?

"Spike?" And was he stupid enough to actually ask?

"Yeah?" Spike didn't sound as though he'd been asleep, but Xander could
never really tell.

"My mother called," he said, fishing for something less dangerous to talk
about. He wanted to slap himself as soon as he said that, though -- ruining
a perfectly good bout of forgetfulness, by talking about it.

"Uh?" Spike scooted around, a bit, and looked at him as though he had no
idea why Xander was telling him.

"I told you how lunch went."

"Yeah? She ask you to try it again or say thanks for everything, my people
will call your people?"

Xander frowned at Spike, then whapped him lightly on the arm. "This is
serious."

Spike raised an eyebrow at him, then visibly composed himself. "Right.
Then, mum called. She said...?"

"She asked if I wanted to have lunch with her again."

One eyebrow went up. "Because it went so well the last time?" Spike
laughed. "She enjoys that sort of thing, eh?"

"Dammit, Spike!" Xander turned away from him, rolling onto his back and
glaring at the ceiling. All right, granted, this wasn't what he'd really
wanted to talk about. But Spike could at least pretend to be sympathetic.

Yeah. Towards the wife of the man he'd killed, for attacking Xander.
Xander felt his stomach tighten again. "I just thought--" He stopped, and
tried to figure out exactly what it was he thought. What he'd not been able
to think since she'd called, despite having dwelled on it and tried so hard
not to dwell on, all day.

He felt a hand on his stomach. "Come on, Xan. Give it up. What are you
going to do? Tell her you're mad at her, and wait for her to say she's
sorry?"

Yeah. That's what he wanted. He turned his glare back on Spike. Spike
just leaned over and kissed him.

"Why not think about those of us who wanna have lunch with you? Or possibly
on you?"

"Is that all you think about? Sex?"

Spike blinked. "You wanna talk about my plans for annoying Angel once we
move to LA?"

"You're already making plans?" The question slipped out before Xander could
realize what he was saying. He shook his head. "No, I don't want to know.
My luck it'll involve tire irons and red hot pokers." He rolled over again,
onto his side. Why did he feel worse, now, than he had all day?

"Xan?" Spike's hand rested on his shoulder, but then Spike didn't say
anything else. After a moment his hand slipped down onto Xander's chest,
and held him closely. Xander didn't respond, other than to close his eyes.
After a few moments, Spike asked quietly, "Want me to bite her?"

"No. I don't want you to bite her."

There was a pause. Then, "Shall I threaten to bite her if she doesn't stop
messing about?"

Despite himself, Xander smiled. "No." His tone wasn't as sharp as before,
and Spike apparently heard the amusement. "No, I don't want you to threaten
to bite her." He moved his head, found Spike's arm right above him and
placed his head on the arm. Spike wriggled a bit, pulling him in closer.
They lay silently for a minute. He still didn't know what to do.

He felt a nudge on his back. Spike asked, "You gonna roll over here and
tell me what big eyes I have?"

Xander slowly raised his head, and looked over. Spike was looking at him,
smirking ever so slightly. "You have big eyes?"

"All the better to see you, m'dear," Spike responded.

Xander wondered if Spike hadn't lost a few too many brain cells, himself.
Could too much sex make you crazy?

Spike nudged him, and stage-whispered, "What big balls you have."

"What?" Xander sat up, and blinked a few times. Awake, or so he thought.

Spike sighed. "All the better to be sucked by you, m'dear."

"Are you turning kinky on me, all of a sudden?" Xander asked. Not that he
objected to sucking Spike's balls, cock, or otherwise. But usually Spike
didn't suggest role-playing. Especially not wolves and little girls. It
made him think of Willow and Oz, and places he really didn't want to go.

Spike was raising an eyebrow at him, and Xander wondered if it wouldn't be
better to distract Spike away from the conversation by grabbing said balls
and asking if those were the ones he meant. "Did you wanna be the big bad
wolf?" Spike asked, almost casually.

"No! And neither do you. Who wants to have sex with a wolf?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Not a real wolf, git. But I *can* growl, if you
like." He leaned forward, baring his not-sharp teeth, and growled.

Xander bit off his protest. He wasn't going to play at fairy tales, not to
get sex. Didn't want to think about himself or Willow or anyone wearing a
red cape. "Er?" as all he managed.

Spike looked at him, waiting.

"Growl again?"

Spike growled.

Xander shivered. "Um, what was that about big teeth?" He realized Spike
hadn't actually said that part, instead had skipped right to the part that
hadn't actually been in the story. Well, possibly in the original.... But
Spike elongated his teeth, bared them, and headed for Xander's tender
pieces. They apparently didn't know they were in any danger, because they
made Xander push his hips up, towards that mouth, towards the source of the
growling and the sharp pricks in his...prick, and wanting everything he'd
just been thinking had to be bad, somehow, sometime. Eventually.

Not now. Now he wanted more growling, more nibbling, and more, more
everything, right there, right now, just like that.... He didn't even
notice when the fangs disappeared and it was only blunted teeth and tongue
working him over.

He realized he was lying on his back, moaning and groaning and sounding for
all the world like he was...being licked and nibbled and sucked. He threw
his head back to let himself just shout and let everything go, when Spike
engulfed his cock, and *then* he felt more fangs. Xander spasmed off the
bed, sitting up and pushing Spike back, away from him, off his body and not
at all because there had been a single thing wrong with what Spike had done.
He didn't have a chance to explain that to the bewildered-looking vampire,
as Xander grabbed him by the arm and threw him down. Face first.

"Wha--?" was all Spike had time to say before Xander wrenched himself
around Spike's body, scrambled into position and slammed himself home, right
where that slight pinprick on his cock had demanded he be.

He closed his eyes in relief, as he felt Spike's body encase him, pushed
himself fully inside and heard Spike growling and shouting into the
mattress, writhing beneath him and slamming himself further onto Xander. He
grabbed Spike's hips and pushed him away, pulled him back as hard as he
could. Not as hard as a vampire might be used to, or even might want, but
that was Spike's fault for picking a human, wasn't it? He'd have to take
what he got and Xander was, by god, going to give him everything he could.

Slammed in again, and watched as Spike tried to push himself up onto his
arms, get his hands underneath him for leverage or better position or
something. Xander scraped his fingernails down Spike's back, a warning if
he chose to interpret it as such, and smiled as Spike grew still. Xander
had to re-position his own legs, though, as he drew back to thrust in once
more, trying each time and moving a bit more until he found just what he
wanted. Braced enough against the bed to push as hard as he wanted, resting
enough against Spike that he didn't have to hold himself the hell up. All
he had to do was slam and slam and slam, and watch and listen as Spike
shuddered beneath him.

He dug his fingers into Spike's hips, not caring that tomorrow there would
be no sign he'd even touched him. No bruises, no marks, just a memory and a
smirk on the vampire's face. Xander thrust as hard as he could, trying to
put that mark on Spike's face. Wanting to put something there. Wanting
something to come of this, no euphemistic puns intended, and Xander slammed
again and again and wondered if he were ever *going* to come, or if he was
going to cry out from frustration before he could exhaust himself.

He leaned forward over Spike's back, spreading his hands on Spike's
shoulders, feeling the tensing and shifting of muscles as Spike held them
up, held them still as Xander took him. It was that motion that did it --
that acquiescence and support and the doing what he'd been told to do, and
making it possible for Xander to do it without a single counter-demand.
Hunched there and bracing them both against the assaults; Xander shuddered
once and thrust in again, feeling himself come only as his hands pushed
against Spike's shoulder blades once more.

Xander was shaking as he peeled himself away from Spike, moving back onto
his heels and blinking in stupor as he watched Spike remain where he was,
only looking back at him quizzically. Xander realized he was panting, and
didn't try to speak. A glance down showed him why Spike was still unmoving,
still looking at him. Xander grinned. "Why doncha jerk yourself off?"

He didn't have to be told twice. One hand flashed to his cock, wrapped
around it and began pulling at it, moving out of position only enough that
Xander could see. Xander watched the pale hand wrapped so tight that he
could have seen tendons standing out in Spike's arm, if it weren't moving
too fast to focus, and if it weren't for his eyes riveted on the straining
pale cock that looked so hard it couldn't possibly have not been hurting.
He wanted to reach out and touch, but didn't.

Spike ground out a long, aching howl as his body shook, and Xander reached
out a hand, placing it on Spike's leg. He squeezed, and Spike came all over
his hand, all over his bed. He froze for a moment, then pushed himself to
one side as he collapsed. Xander leaned over, lying on his own side behind
him.

"Rrrg," Spike mumbled.

Xander didn't say anything, as he spooned up behind him. He closed his eyes
and let himself fall asleep, and hoped that he didn't dream.

Part Fourteen

In the end, he flipped a coin.

It wasn't quite so simple as that. He'd had to narrow his choices down to
two -- then he'd narrowed them down to several sets of two, before he'd
started flipping the quarter. It worked, though, the way it always did.
Halfway through the flip, as the coin began falling towards his hand, he
knew which way he hoped it would end up.

He'd only had to actually *look* at the coin, once. Tails. That had meant
*next* Saturday.

He'd managed to decide he wanted to call her, didn't want to go it alone,
and would even call her this week. Probably. He'd opted to ask Willow to
go with him, even though he had a list as long as his arm of people who had
volunteered, singly and in groups, to go. He wasn't sure he wanted
*everyone* there, though the thought had been amusing. He could have let
his mother talk to him by passing notes, or whispering in the person's ear
next to her, to get passed down to the next person, and so on. By the time
he heard it, they would have been talking about ducks and radar dishes.

Xander didn't want to make this harder for her. Not appreciably, anyhow.
One person, for moral support, who wouldn't seem to pose a threat to *her*.
That left Giles off the list. He knew Giles would behave himself, but his
mother would feel intimidated and the first time she said something *really*
stupid, Giles would glare at her and it would be all over but the check.

He didn't want to do that to her. He actually wanted to have lunch with
her, and see if it were at all possible for them to have a nice time.
Distant, polite, friendly, whatever. Something other than accusing each
other of ruining their lives.

So he'd decided on Willow. Someone his mother was used to hanging around,
someone in front of whom she wouldn't feel like curbing her tongue -- except
about the really true stuff. She wouldn't mention his father at all, in
front of Willow.

Xander considered that a good thing.

Besides, the presence of Willow convinced Giles, Buffy, grandmum, and Joyce
Summers that having lunch with his mother was a good idea.

"We'll get a table across the restaurant, and keep an eye on you," Joyce had
said.

"Or right next to yours. We can pretend that we don't know you," Buffy had
added, smiling.

"Or you can secretly take the place of the waiters and cooks, and keep us
surrounded at all times," he'd joked, and had been worried when Willow had
simply looked thoughtful.

Now, though, he was trying to carry out the rest of his decision. He'd
decided on lunch, asked Willow to join him, had even picked a day he wanted
to go. Now he just had to call his mother.

Maybe she wouldn't be free? Maybe she wouldn't be home. A message on her
machine and he'd be off the karmic hook for making the first move...only
then he'd have to wait for her to return the call. He closed his eyes and
told himself he was too old to be scared to call his mom on the phone.

He could make Willow call her. Tell her she was his social secretary....

No, if he was doing this -- if he truly wanted to do this, he had to call.
Had to not be too afraid to talk to her on the phone. That would kinda
defeat the point of going to lunch, right? Xander told himself to pick up
the phone, and dial. Easy. He'd done it before. He could even pretend he
was telling her he was staying over at Willow's and wouldn't be home
tonight.

He could hear Giles in the other room. In a rush of embarrassment, he
picked up the phone quickly. All he needed was for Giles to find him staring
at the phone, and he'd be all understanding and supportive and do you want
me to call her and you know you don't have to do this. He was dialing the
number before he noticed that Giles wasn't coming anywhere near his
bedroom -- then it was too late.

"Hello?"

"Hi." He was impressed he hadn't stammered.

"Xander?" She sounded surprised to hear from him. She sounded happy. Like
they hadn't spoken in years....

"Yeah, hi. I was...I thought, that is maybe we could do lunch. Again. Next
Saturday? If you wanted."

There was a long pause. But when she spoke, she spoke rapidly, as though
she was afraid he was only kidding. "Really? Of course, I mean, yes. I'd
love to. Do you want me to call for reservations? We can go to Logan's, or
we could meet at the Pancake House if you'd rather."

He almost smiled. "It's OK, I'll do it. Um, Logan's. And, um,
Willowmightcomewithme." He waited. Not holding his breath, if anyone
asked.

"Oh. Oh, well, yes, that'd be lovely." Her voice was going into that
polite tone, and Xander couldn't tell if he shouldn't have told her. Maybe
he should tell Willow she couldn't go.

He waited, and she didn't say anything else. He didn't have anything else
to say, either, so he finally burst out with, "I'll see you then, gotta go.
Bye."

"Good-bye, dear. I'll see you Saturday."

Then he hung up the phone, and stood there. Stared at it and hoped,
crazily, that it wouldn't ring. That she wouldn't think she had caveat to
call whenever she liked. Surely she wouldn't? Did she have his phone
number? Why would she have to call, anyway, except to cancel lunch or
change their plans or just to chat with him when the safety of Willow wasn't
around?

He reached out and unplugged his phone.

**************


"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Xander stopped himself from adding anything like "geez! I
know what I'm doing!" because he was afraid he'd sound like he really
didn't. He put down the shirt he'd been holding and dug into the closet.
Maybe the green button up?

"I'm being overly protective, aren't I?" Giles looked mildly abashed.

Xander sighed, and set the green shirt on the closet's doorknob as a
'maybe'. "I know you just don't want her doing anything--" he couldn't
quite say 'to hurt me'. "But she's my *mom*. The only one I have, despite
everyone's offers." He ignored the way Giles' eyebrow went up at that, as
if he hadn't known. Maybe he hadn't, and all that vaunted Watcher parental
know all see all really *was* all so much hogwash. It would explain why
Spike wasn't dead. Deader.

But whatever he didn't know, Giles did look like he understood. He even
seemed to be trying to accept it. "You do know that if you change your
mind--" Giles stopped.

Probably because he'd already said it twelve times. Xander found himself
grinning. He *liked* over-protective Giles, as long as it didn't mean he
had to stay home where no one could hurt him. He mentally blinked at the
absurdity of the thought -- absurd because it wasn't. "If I change my mind,
you can even say 'I told you so'."

"I wouldn't do that," Giles objected, though he was smiling a little.

"Oh, you would," he teased, picking up the green shirt again. Held it up
against his slacks, and put it back in the closet.

"I wouldn't," Giles responded.

"Would." Xander grinned as he searched through what was hanging up. If
he'd done laundry yesterday -- like someone had asked and there was no way
he was going to concede someone might have been right -- this would be easy.
Blue shirt, grey slacks, and off he'd go. WIth Willow, and with Giles
safely at home where he could fret.

"Wouldn't. Er, Xander, what are you doing?"

Xander glanced over his shoulder. "Getting dressed?"

"Yes, but... the only time I've seen you make this much fuss over what you
were wearing was when you were either going out on a date, or-- no, I take
it back. Not even when you've gone out on a date. I've never seen you
spend half an hour trying to decide on a shirt."

"Well, I wanna...look right."

"'Right'?" The teasing had gone out of Giles' voice, though he was
obviously trying not to sound worried. Overly-protective.

Xander put the dark green shirt back and wondered if maybe he shouldn't have
picked the blue pants. Maybe the khaki was throwing everything off.
"Yeah." He suddenly felt silly, but explained, anyhow. "I wanna look good,
but not great -- I don't want her thinking I've gone all high class on her.
But I don't wanna look like I don't care about looking good. Without making
her feel weird if she's just got that--" He stopped. Set the grey shirt
back in the closet and picked up the green one again.

"Xander?" Giles' query made him realize he'd stopped talking, and was just
staring at his shirt.

"I just don't wanna look like I'm trying to impress her," he said quickly.
When what he wanted was for her not to be embarrassed because she was
wearing the same sort of nice dress she'd worn for the last seven years
whenever they'd gone out. "But I wanna look nice."

"Ah."

He waited, holding the green shirt and wondering if his mother would even
notice the difference between his wearing the green shirt and his wearing
the dark red. After a moment he realized Giles wasn't saying anything more,
and glanced over. Giles looked startled, and one hand went up for his
glasses, taking them off and giving them a quick polish. He kept waiting,
wondering what could be distracting him from saying anything useful like 'it
won't matter' and 'she won't care'.

"I assume Logan's doesn't have any sort of dress code?"

"Huh? No, they're pretty much a 'shoes, shirt, service' kinda place.
Peanut shells on the floor and everything."

Giles was blinking at him again. "Peanut shells? No, don't tell me."

"We've never been there? I mean, you've never gone to Logan's? Giles,
Giles, you are missing out on a classic American experience. I'm almost
tempted to change my mind just so you can go."

There was a faint smile which looked forced. Xander knew it wasn't really
forced, only fake-forced. "Thank you, no. There are some things about your
culture which were meant to remain mysteries."

"You said that about professional wrestling."

"And I meant it."

"Weenie."

Giles raised an eyebrow at him. "I hardly think not wanting to watch grown,
costumed men throw each other about and pretend to hit each other, counts as
being a 'weenie'."

"But you don't mind watching grown, costumed women do it?"

Giles glowered at him. "I do not watch professional wrestling."

"Except when you think I'm gone for the evening?"

"If you're supposed to be gone for the evening, how would you know what I
was watching?"

Xander opened his mouth...and said nothing. Blinked, and tried to
frantically figure out if he was teetering on the edge of getting himself
into huge amounts of trouble for doing something he couldn't right now think
that he'd done, or not. How could he get into trouble for being *home*,
though? Unless it was because he and Spike were up on the roof and.... He
smiled. "I wouldn't."

Giles continued to glower until Xander wondered if he'd better start
thinking up an explanation for whatever it was Giles was about to catch him
at having done. Then Giles simply nodded. "The green one."

He looked down. "Really? You don't think it says 'hey, I just threw on the
first thing that was clean?'" He took it off the hanger, anyway, and put it
on.

"I think it says 'I am wearing a shirt so I won't be thrown out of this
eating establishment'."

"Ha, ha. You're a million laughs."

"Thank you." Giles smiled, and this one was one of those funny ones Xander
hadn't ever really figured out. He liked them, but they gave him the feeling
that Giles was always about to say something that he never ended up saying.

"We could go to Logan's tomorrow," he suggested, in order to distract
himself from finally asking what was up with that smile.

Giles looked surprised. "We could, if you'd like."

"You don't mind that there'll be peanuts?"

There was the smile again. "I think I can handle it."

"So if I hear you say anything that sounds like 'good god, there are peanut
shells all over the floor'," he said it in his grandfather's best British
accent, which made Giles' eyebrows go up again. "Then...you'll buy lunch?"

"You mean you'll buy lunch otherwise? Excellent."

"Damn."

Then Giles was laughing at him, and Xander decided that it was time to go
over to Willow's, and help her decide what to wear. At least when she
laughed at him, he didn't feel like making her do it, again. He gathered up
his keys and wallet -- the one his mother had given him. Maybe a blatant
move, but not using it was also blatantly something. He didn't know what.

It had been a long time since he had to worry about every little thing he
did and how someone else would react to it.

Ready to go, he took a step towards his bedroom door, and Giles. He found
his guardian looking at him, closely. "Xander, you know--"

He smiled. "Yeah. I do."

Giles nodded, and took a step aside. Xander moved forward and hugged him
briefly, letting go and heading out of his room before they could have the
'change your mind' conversation for the fourteenth time.

As he walked down the hallway, he had an eerie feeling he was leaving
something behind. He glanced back, but didn't see anything but his bedroom
door, still open.


************


His mother looked surprised to see Willow. She hid it well, and she said
hello as cheerfully as she ever had when Xander brought tag-along-Willow
home for meals or home for going-out-to-meals-because-mother-doesn't-cook.
Xander wasn't entirely sure why she was surprised -- he'd told her Willow
was coming. Maybe she hadn't thought he was serious?

They headed into the waiting area at Logan's, and his mother smiled again at
her. "Willow, I hardly knew you. It's been so long--" There was a pause
which was probably meant to not be awkward, before she apparently decided to
say it anyway. "Since I've seen you. You've become such a lovely young
woman."

Willow smiled, and it made her look like the little girl Xander had known
all his life. He took her hand, as the host walked up and invited them to
follow her to a table. She turned the happy little smile on him, and for a
moment he wondered what he'd been missing, all those years she'd had a crush
on him. Maybe it was just the 'she's a girl' thing.

They sat down, passed out menus, and spent a few safe minutes just reading
the specials. Xander was still staring at his, trying to figure out what he
could possibly say that wouldn't lead to him walking out, when he saw his
mother set her menu aside.

"So, Willow, you're going to college this fall?"

"Yes, I've decided to go to UC Sunnydale." Willow put her menu down and
leaned forward. "I can't wait, I'm so excited!"

"You're not leaving home, then?" She sounded a little surprised, but Xander
heard something else in her voice. Disappointment? He glanced up at her,
but she didn't meet his eyes.

"Oh, I'm going to be living in the dorms, but I like Sunnydale, and the
college here has everything I want, I don't have to leave..um, my boyfriend.
He's going to UC Sunnydale, too."

"You have a boyfriend?"

"Oh--" Willow stopped, and Xander caught the sideways glance she sent him,
but he kept staring at his menu. Baked potato or rice? Salad? Soup? Fork
to the tongue? "Yes, his name's Oz. You never met him, did you?" Willow
sent Xander another apologetic look while Xander's mother just shook her
head, trying to appear as though this wasn't unusual. "He's a musician, and
he's very smart, and he's adorable and sweet and he almost never talks but
that's OK because everyone says I make up for that by babbling and it really
hasn't been that long, we've only been dating well, um, three years I guess
but it wasn't *serious* until the last Xander? Do you want to split a shrimp
entree?"

"Huh? Oh, um, yeah, we can do that. But you're getting your own dessert.
My cobbler ala mode is *all* mine!"

She gave him a pout, and Xander pushed the dessert menu towards her. "Find
your own. They have chocolate brownie fudge swirl mega ice cream things
here."

"Oo, chocolate?" She took the menu, apparently distracted. Xander wasn't
fooled -- and it was why he'd be ordering the blackberry cobbler instead of
peach. Willow didn't like peaches. That was OK - he'd be stealing part of
her brownie fudge swirl thing.

His mother laughed, and they both looked over at her. "I remember when I'd
take you two to Dairy Queen. You two fussed and fought and ate each other's
food and everyone thought you were brother and sister. People used to offer
their sympathy to me, for having to put up with two such energetic
children."

Willow and Xander returned her smile, though Xander found he had to fake it.
Had to fight back the thought that it had been rare enough that she'd
noticed *him* -- how ironic that strangers thought she had to pay attention
to two of them.

"Yeah, my mother used to get the same thing, when she had us both," Willow
responded, and somehow managed to make it sound unaccusing. Since, after
all, Willow's mother had babysat them both far more often....

Xander opened his mouth to add to the going-well conversation, and stopped.
The first two things he'd almost said were 'yeah, Giles should have adopted
you, too' and 'The sibling thing helped when your grandparents sent me
Chanukah presents.' Neither would go over well.... He ended up just
grinning in support of Willow's more genial remarks.

That was pretty much how the entire meal went -- with Willow talking to both
of them and very little actual conversation passing directly between Xander
and his mother. But they had managed to be in each other's presence for a
whole hour and no misunderstandings, fights, or sudden retreats by either of
them had happened so Xander considered it a success. Especially when he
pulled out his wallet to pay the check, and his mother looked over and
smiled.


*************

Willow made it easy. They actually had lunch together a few times, all
three of them, and it was always pleasant. Bordering on...nice. Xander
didn't know if it was because Willow made them polite, or because with her
there it was easier for them all to say 'remember the time we' and have it
only be the good things. She was also full of excited plans for the future,
so whenever his mother looked uncomfortable with hearing about his own
plans, Willow would distract them all by talking about the textbooks she was
already reading.

Xander found that he almost enjoyed meeting his mother for lunch. They
certainly seemed to end each one with a smile and a 'same time next
weekend?' Giles had stopped double-, triple-, and quadruple-checking that
did Xander really want to do this by the fourth time he'd met his mother and
Willow for lunch. He hadn't stopped being home when Xander got back, and
pretending he wasn't eager and ready to hear all about it in case anything
had gone wrong. Xander didn't mind, partly because he had an excuse to
share some of his and Willow's more fun -- but unembarrassing -- childhood
escapades, and partly because he still liked watching Giles being
over-protective.

He knew he was going to miss it. Talking about it over the phone wasn't
going to be the same, even though he had a lot of practise, what with all
his calls and emails to Maggie. But it wasn't the same, and as much as he
didn't like to think about it...soon, he was going have to.

So for as long as he could, he focused on going to lunch with his mother
every week, and practising saying 'chemistry' without the 'demonic' in front
of it. He focused on keeping Spike awake when any sane vampire would have
his head under a blanket or underground, instead of being shagged by his
boyfriend. He didn't think Spike minded, since he'd noticed Spike very
deliberately didn't sleep with any clothes on after the second time Xander
had snuck into the warehouse, in the morning.

Xander also focused on helping Buffy patrol, and helping Willow talk herself
out of trying to get her assignments from her professors early, and on
hanging out at the Bronze and listening to the Dingoes play.

He focused on a lot of things, so that when the time came, it took him
almost by surprise.

Then, however, it was time. Cardboard boxes showed up out of nowhere, and
Angel called to say he knew of an apartment in a decent neighborhood.

Part Fifteen


Xander stood in the middle of the bedroom, and surveyed the piles of boxes.
Almost as bad as when they'd lugged everything home from the library -- but
only because he was buying most of his kitchen stuff after he got to LA.
Otherwise he'd have three more boxes and Giles would be grumbling about who
had stolen the good skillet.

"I can't possibly own this much stuff." He looked up as Giles stepped into
the doorway. "I've only been here three years. Where did all this *come*
from?"

"Your grandparents, I imagine," Giles replied with a faint smile, as if
he'd had nothing to do with it. "Possessions do tend to accumulate, don't
they?" he added with a tone of understanding.

"I wish I'd bribed Buffy into helping me move." Xander sat down on the bed
and thought about hauling all this stuff into his new place.

His new place. Xander stopped thinking about the number of boxes for a
moment. He had a new place -- they'd gone down to LA last weekend to find
it. Cordelia and Angel and a friend of theirs had met them with a list --
Cordelia and what's his name, Doyle, had taken them around to each one,
beginning with the cheapest and ending with the one Cordelia swore he should
take if only to invite her to, over for parties.

It had made searching for a place a lot simpler -- and a lot harder. He
hadn't been able to drag hs feet spending time dwelling over where to look
and what neighborhoods to avoid, and by Sunday morning he'd picked a place
out and was heading back to Sunnydale.

He'd tried all week to get used to the idea that he *had* a new place. An
apartment, all his own, in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, whenever he spent
more than ten minutes thinking about it, he started thinking about how long
it would be before he started waking up with Spike in the bed, rather than
under it, on a daily basis. Spike had agreed that it would be safer if they
maintained separate residences. Xander was used to friends dropping in
unannounced, and locking the front door never really worked for keeping them
out. He didn't want Cordelia slaying Spike when all he was doing was
raiding the fridge.

But that didn't mean they wouldn't be spending most nights, together.

"Angel will be there," Giles interupted his musing, an echo of something in
his voice that Xander had been hearing all week. They'd talked about
whether Giles would drive down with him or not -- and they'd finally decided
on not. With no high school library in need of a librarian, Giles had no
job waiting for him; Xander was secretly afraid Giles would get him to LA
and find a reason to stay an extra couple of days, then a couple more,
prolonging the goodbye that Xander already found to be the hardest thing
he'd done.

He suspected Giles was thinking the same thing, because he hadn't really
argued, once Xander had said it would be easier if they said goodbye here.
Xander would drive to LA by himself, where he'd have vampiric assistance
hauling his belongings up the stairs. Spike, of course, instead of Angel.
But it was a little absurd to worry about lying to Giles about it, now.
Xander re-focused his attention on the boxes. "Are you sure this is all
mine?"

"It is. Unless you're stealing some of my books?"

"I'm not stealing *this* many." Xander gave Giles a smile. "Only two, and
possibly a sweater and the good ax. Hardly more than have a box."

"Not all in the same box, I should hope."

"Umm." Xander glanced down at the box near his feet, with a mildly guilty
expression.

"Xander, you haven't wrapped the ax in one of my sweaters again, have you?"

"Do we have another box?"

Giles stood there and gave him a 'we are not amused' glare, until he
cracked.

Xander grinned as cutely as he could, and said, "Kidding?"

"You're trying to make me open the boxes and incidently re-pack them so
nothing will break, while I try to rescue my sweater, aren't you?"

"I don't think I packed anything breakable," Xander replied, trying to
think back on what he had packed. The computer, of course, was breakable,
but it was already back in its original packing and locked in the trunk of
his car. The CDs were only sort of breakable, and they were all in a bag in
the front seat -- amusement on the long, two-hour drive south. Four if he
got caught in traffic.

The rest was clothing and books, and the breakable books were still all
locked up at his grandparents' house. The *ax* certainly wasn't breakable,
not in the way Giles meant. He looked up, intending to ask if that's what
Giles *did* mean, just to see if he could make Giles roll his eyes. But he
stopped when he looked up to find Giles watching him, a sad/happy expression
on his face.

Xander waited, not quite needing to crack a joke to break the mood -- not
yet. Instead he stepped around one box, over another, and pushed a third
out of the way so he could wrap his arms around Giles. Giles returned the
embrace, holding him tightly enough that Xander suspected he'd have
impressions from Giles' arms, on his back. "I don't have to go, you know,"
he said quietly, after a moment. He knew he wouldn't stay. He knew Giles
knew it, as well.

There was a soft laugh, then Giles let him go. "Yes, you do." He cupped
Xander's chin, briefly.

"Yeah, I know. But it sounded good, didn't it?"

Giles grinned. "Yes, it sounded quite good."

"You're...you're still coming down in a few weeks, right? Give me time to
unpack and clean the place, first. Middle of September, you said?" He
sounded a lot more insecure that he thought he really felt. But Giles was
just nodding.

"I'll be there, fourteenth of September. Barring an apocalypse, of
course."

"Of course. Maybe you can get them to reschedule, if so?"

Giles gave him a slight smile. "I'll be sure and ask."

"Um, and if not -- you'll call, right? I mean -- if you need help. With
something. Anything."

"I shall call, if we need you."

It was the one thing that kept making Xander think he really shouldn't go.
What if they needed him? But LA wasn't that far away, and Giles had
promised -- and Willow had promised, and Buffy had promised, and Oz had
promised. If they needed one slightly goofy, amateur demonic chemist, they
would call. He just didn't let himself think about if they didn't have a
chance to get to a phone.

"I'm quite proud of you, you know," Giles said, unexpectedly.

Xander forced a wide smile. "Yeah, I know." Giles rolled his eyes, and
Xander grinned in triumph.

There was silence, then, and Xander tried to think of something else, think
of the joke he'd opted not to make, earlier, because he'd been able to
handle the force of his feelings. But now he couldn't remember it, and he
was afraid he was going to look silly, standing here. It wasn't like he'd
never left home before...except last time it hadn't really been home he'd
been leaving. He dove back into Giles' arms, pressing his face against
Giles' shoulder.

"I can come back, right? To visit, or--"

"You are always welcome here, Xander. This is your home." Giles'
whispered in a rough, but determined voice. "You can always come back."

Xander didn't answer. He'd known what the answer was, known this was his
home. But, somehow, hearing it made it a little easier to finally let go,
step back, and pick up a box. He couldn't look over at Giles again, as he
said, "I better get this stuff downstairs."

"I'll give you a hand." Giles picked up another, and together they carried
the boxes out.

the end