Sandy Places in the Soul

by Wolfling and James Walkswithwind

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five  Part Six  Part Seven  Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten  Part Eleven  Part Twelve  Part Thirteen   Part Fourteen  Part Fifteen  Part Sixteen  Part Seventeen  Part Eighteen  Part Nineteen 

Part One

Health class was almost over. Xander was restless, sitting too near the
window to avoid giving him an excuse to stare off and tune out the teacher.

He'd been doing a lot of tuning out, and they'd only been back in school a
week after winter break. No one was saying anything; at least if his
teachers were demanding his attention, he hadn't heard them do so. He'd
missed handing in homework this morning in English, and since he had no
idea if they'd been assigned homework in his other classes, he suspected
he'd be missing more.

But every time he turned his attention to the teacher, to class, and
whatever was right in front of him, his thoughts would start to freeze and
his gaze would just drift back to no kid's land. 

When the bell rung, he looked down to gather his books, and found that
he'd been doodling something. He quickly stuck the piece of paper in a
book, so no one would ask why he'd been writing, over and over, "He's
dead." He looked up to find Buffy waiting.

"Coming?"

"Sure."

Next class was trig at the far end of the school. The walk was made mostly
in silence. Buffy asked him a couple of things and he answered by reflex,
but judging by the look she shot him, his answers hadn't made much sense. 
He saw her say something to Willow as they took their seats, then Xander
was staring out the window again. 

He tried to listen to Mr. Cullins, once or twice turning to look at the
chalkboard. He caught Willow looking at him, worriedly. He didn't like to
see that expression on her face -- brow wrinkled and sad eyes. He told
himself to try harder.

He actually managed to watch the chalkboard and Mr. Cullins, the entire
rest of the class period. He wasn't sure what Cullins had said, what he'd
been supposed to learn. But at least he'd been trying to pay attention. 
When the bell rang this time it was Willow who waited for him until he
gathered up his books.

"Hey, Will." He had the feeling he hadn't seen her much today. She was
still looking at him with that worried expression, so he tried smiling.

"Hey." She smiled back, though her eyes still looked worried.

"Um, can I borrow your notes?" he asked as they left the classroom.

"Sure." Willow paused and glanced at him. "For the entire week?"

He grinned, sheepishly. "Yeah. Well, actually I heard Mrs. Drobisher's
lecture from...um...whatever day it was. On excited electrons."

"Tuesday." She smiled and nudged him as they walked. "I'll give you those
notes, too. Just in case."

"Thanks." He felt better, being able to talk with her. Even if it was
about school. He was glad she was here walking with him, glad she had--
Xander stopped. He had P.E. next. Boy's P.E. He gave Willow a suspicious
look.

Willow gazed back innocently. Too innocently.

He could call her on it, but he knew she'd just say something reasonable
and supportive and look at him with those big Willow-eyes. Rather than
make her look cute at him, he just smiled. 

She walked him right to the door of the locker room. "I'll see you next
class."

"Thanks." 

He went in, didn't bother changing into his gym clothes. The coach had
had him doing other things all week -- until his ribs healed, he wasn't
allowed to do anything P.Eish. There was a time when he would have loved
it, but this week, standing around for 45 minutes was more than his brain
could handle. With nothing to distract him, he couldn't even pretend to be
paying attention. 

No one complained when he didn't actually write down any times on the
clipboard. He stared at it, thinking vaguely that he should be paying
attention, should be doing something other than sit there and not think
about things. 

He handed in the clipboard at the end of class, trying to ignore the look
he got from the coach before gathering his things and heading back out into
the hallway. Idly, he wondered who would be waiting for him.

He wasn't terribly surprised to see Oz hanging in the hall. They *did*
have next period together, and Oz's last class was only just down the hall.
It almost seemed like happenstance that he was standing here, waiting.

Oz just nodded at him and fell in at his side. Luckily, Xander felt no
pressure to talk to Oz as they headed for class. It didn't stop him
thinking, though, that it ought to be weird. Being escorted from class to
class -- they'd been doing it all week, he suddenly realized. He hadn't
even asked or said anything to make them think he needed it.

They were doing it anyway.

It should have made him feel suffocated, coddled. Instead he was just glad
to have friends that cared that much. It didn't help him concentrate in
class, but it did give him something else to try to think about. 

How long should he make them do this? They'd done it a week already. 
Pretty soon they'd start wanting to get back to their own lives -- Willow
and Oz would want to hang all over each other, rather than taking turns
with him.

Surely he could manage to walk from class to class by himself, couldn't
he? He resolved to do so -- realizing that this was the last class of the
day, and any such resolutions would have to be tested tomorrow. Or was
today Friday? 

He frowned, thinking harder. Yes, it was. Which meant he wouldn't have to
give up the support for a whole two more days. He'd be able to handle it
then, for sure. He might even be able to remember what day it was. Maybe
after a week of that, he could start listening to his teachers again. Tiny
steps. Don't want to be too ambitious all at once.

He was repeating his resolution to himself -- a better mantra than 'he's
dead', he supposed -- when the bell rang. He gathered his books and looked
around for whoever was taking a shift as his keeper.

Cordelia walked up. Xander gave her a smile. "Hey, Cordy. Your duty?"

"Duty? I don't know what you me-" She sighed at his look and waved off the
lie. "All right, yes. I drew the final class to the library walk. Can we
hurry? I have cheerleading practice."

"You know, it's OK if you go on. I can make it that far by myself." He
figured it'd be like a trial run -- see if he wanted to go without, or not.
Besides, he needed to stop by his locker first, and that was in the other
direction from the gym, where Cordelia needed to go.

Cordelia looked uncertain. "I don't mind-"

"It's OK," he said again, not quite believing he was saying it. 

"Well, if you're sure..." 

"Go. I'm a big boy, I can walk to my locker on my own." If he'd had any
doubts, they were allayed by the relief on Cordelia's face.

"All right. Thanks." She turned to go then spun back around. "But you go
straight to the library. No side trips." 

He rolled his eyes. "Where am I gonna go? The cafeteria?"

She just looked at him.

"They served meatloaf, Cordelia. Do you really think even I would go back
there today?"

A worried expression crossed her face. "That was yesterday, Xander."

"Call it a vivid memory." Xander shrugged easily, even as he tried for a
bit to remember what *had* been for lunch today.

"Maybe I should..." Cordelia began, but was interrupted by someone down
the hallway calling her name.

Melanie, one of the other cheerleaders, came running up. "Come on! We're
going to be late! You'll never guess who's in the gym," she said in an
excited, gossipy tone.

"I..." She glanced back at Xander, undecided.

"*Go*." he shooed her along. 

She started towards Melanie but kept looking over her shoulder at him. He
smiled at her, then turned and headed for his locker, acting like it was
the most normal thing in the world to do. He managed to keep it up until
she had vanished from view.

Then he hurried. Head down, dodging other students from long practice of
having a personal space much larger than most. He made it to his locker,
concentrating on grabbing the rest of his books and folders and getting to
the library. She needn't have worried about side trips.

It took him three tries to get his locker open, then he dropped everything
onto the floor. It was only when he knelt to pick it up that he realized
his hands were shaking.

He cursed under his breath, and gathered up his books. It took a couple
tries to get everything into his arms, then he fumbled with his backpack. 
Frustrated, he shoved everything into his locker and slammed it shut. Then
he turned. He needed to get to the library.

It seemed so far away, though. And the hallways he walked every day
suddenly seemed cold and intimidating.

Dangerous.

Too full of people to properly keep an eye out. He searched frantically,
hoping to see someone, one of his friends, a teacher...god help him, even
Principal Snyder. "Larry!" He stepped through a group of seniors towards
the football player.

"Huh?" Larry turned at the sound of his name.

He was conveniently headed in the right direction. Xander joined him,
trying for casual. "How's it going?"

"Fine." He was looking at Xander perplexedly.

Xander forced himself to relax, act calm. Natural. OK, so 'natural'
usually didn't involve intentionally seeking out the company of the guy
he'd accidentally outed.

"You?" Larry asked after a moment.

"Yeah. Great. So--" His brain failed him, then, leaving him without
anything to say. But they were walking still towards the library.

"So...Broke your arm, huh?"

"Yeah. Bruised some ribs, too. Good thing the swim team no longer needs
me."

Larry nodded. "I cracked some ribs last year. Hurt like hell."

"Yeah. I hate how I forget about 'em, cause they aren't hurting and I do
something perfectly normal and *pow*." 

"They were still bugging me over a month after I hurt them."

"Oh, thanks. That's something to look forward to." His doctor had said
as much, but it sounded truer coming from someone who'd been there.

"So...um..." Larry was looking at him weirdly.

Xander glanced over. Was he imploding and hadn't noticed? He gave
himself a quick mental once-over. 

"Was there something you...wanted?"

Xander blinked. They were still down the hall from the library. He
thought quickly. "No? Just...um...wanted to say 'hey'?"

"Oh. Okay. Hey." Larry still looked confused though.

Xander smiled. He was starting to get nervous again. At least now the
library was in sight. He could make it alone if Larry decided to ditch. 
But Larry kept walking in the direction of the library so he kept walking
with him.

He tried to think of something else to say, but the only thing that was
coming to mind was, 'So, how's being gay?' He so did not want to start
talking about that. Willow was the only one who knew -- Larry thought he
knew, but Xander had always tried to pretend he knew nothing.

Following that thought made him slightly dizzy.

"Was there something you want to ask?"

"Huh? No. No, just being friendly, you know?" Xander grinned. Wondered
if that had been the right thing to say when Larry smiled kinda shyly, back.

"Okay. Friendly is good."

Two more steps and he was at the library doors. "Well, this is my stop."

Larry stopped for a moment. "See you around?"

"Yeah," he stopped himself from saying 'definitely'. 

With a nod and another shy smile Larry left.

Xander sighed. He'd have to diffuse that, somehow. Maybe if he just
ignored and avoided, he could pretend he hadn't just been leading Larry on.
He turned and pushed the library door open.

The place was quiet and empty. No immediate sign of Giles. He took
another step in, looking around. He didn't see anything. Firmly, he told
himself Giles was probably in his office. He walked forward enough to
look. Nope, not there. He took a step towards the stacks. Maybe he was--
alone in the library.

Heart pounding, he spun, back towards the doors. Closed. No one had
snuck in behind him.

Which left him with a choice -- leave? Hide in Giles' office? Check the
stacks? Didn't matter, he discovered, since he couldn't make his legs
work. This was ridiculous, he told himself. It was just a room. 

Just a room he had almost been beaten to death in.

He heard himself give a half-strangled cry, then his legs gave out and he
sank to the floor.

"Xander?!" Suddenly Giles was there, kneeling beside him.

He looked up. He wanted to grab onto Giles, but his arms were wrapped
around his legs and weren't letting go.

Then Giles' arms were going around him, pulling him close. Protecting him.

He gasped, trying for air. This was bad. This was very bad. He let his
head fall against Giles' chest, hiding there. "Wanna go home."

Giles didn't say anything, just nodded and somehow managed to get to his
feet with Xander still in his arms. Xander slung his right arm around
Giles' neck.

If they went by people in the hallways, Xander didn't see them. He didn't
particularly care either; he was too busy fighting the horrible de ja vous
that kept replaying his feelings from *that* day. Even his ribs were
hurting, sharp pains as though the kicks were only just landing. Could
hear the loud snap of his arm breaking, hear his father's voice screaming
at him....

Giles' voice murmuring low words of comfort drowned out the screams in his
mind and he desperately focused in on that. It was hard to make out
exactly what he was saying, at first. Then the air changed and they were
outside, and Xander heard him say "going to set you down for a moment". He
tensed, then pried his arm from Giles' neck.

He was gently set on his feet by what he realized was the Citroen. Giles
smiled at him encouragingly then fumbled for his keys to unlock the car. 
He stepped aside, staying too near Giles as the other man moved to open the
door. Then Giles' hands were on him again, helping him into the car.

He had another brief upsurge of panic when the door was shut and he was
alone for a moment, but Giles getting in behind the wheel mitigated it a
little. Sitting miles away on the other side of the car wasn't exactly a
good thing, but the car pulling away from the school was. 

Giles glanced over at him every few seconds, the reassurance in his
expression not quite hiding the worry and concern. Xander figured it
wasn't helping that he was rocking back and forth in the seat.

"Can you make it until we get home?" Giles asked, nothing judgmental in
his expression or his face.

He nodded, rocking harder. Home. Going home where it was safe and no one
but Giles would be there. Giles was safe. Wouldn't look at him funny if
he hid under the bed. Wouldn't yell if he tore his closet door apart.

Giles muttered something mostly under his breath about hitting telephone
poles and drove faster.

Xander heard himself say, "Not gonna implode," but his voice sounded
distant. He made a noise, then, an odd sort of squeak and whimper and
suddenly things in his chest began strangling him.

There was a sharp jolt as Giles pulled the car over to the side of the
road and then he was being held again. He found himself crying, shaking
violently in Giles' arms. Still rocking, wanting to strike out and break
something, shove this fear away. He heard himself starting to say it again.

"He's dead, he's dead, he's dead."

Giles was silent, just tightening his embrace. Keeping him from flying
apart. It pushed him off balance when things he'd never felt starting
surging. Anger, fear, and guilt. If his father had just not hurt him, if
he would have just not had to...do those things, he wouldn't have died. 
Wouldn't have made Spike kill him, and oh, god, did that make him
responsible? 

Even if his father had deserved it, wasn't he still to blame? If he'd
stayed home, if he had gone home when they had told him to...could he have
avoided all of this?

He became aware of Giles repeating over and over, "It wasn't your fault,"
in a fierce tone and only then realized he'd been speaking some of his
thoughts out loud.

"He's dead," he said again. That had to be a bad thing, somewhere. 
Because now, for the first time since he'd left his parents' house, he
could remember other things.

Good things.

"I know."

He kept saying it, feeling the shock of actual grief hitting him. He
remembered his father coming to his room, once, when he'd been very small,
and killing the scary spider on his wall. Remembered him taking him into
the back yard and teaching him how to juggle. 

Here and there, memories of the father he might have been, the father he
was when his head was clear enough to try. And he'd died because he'd
tried to kill him. Xander screamed.

Giles held him tighter in response, his voice still ringing in Xander's
ears though he could no longer make out the words over his own thoughts.

It just went on. The voice, the images, the shattering in his heart. He
tried to bury himself in Giles' embrace but it didn't help. He couldn't
escape. There was nothing he could do but hold on and try to keep from
losing himself completely.

What felt like an eternity later, he found himself calming down. Not
because the feelings had gone, but because he hurt too much to keep going. 
His ribs and head ached, and he wanted to just close his eyes. Taking the
first deep breath since he'd begun this...implosion, he came out of himself
enough to notice Giles still holding him. Running a hand through his hair,
whispering in his ear.

With a start that felt much like shock, he realized that Giles' face was
wet too.

"Wanna go home," he managed again. At least someplace more comfortable
than squeezed sideways in the front seat of a Citroen. 

"All right." Slowly, Giles released him and turned back to the wheel. But
he kept one hand in Xander's the entire time.

Xander made it easy; he scooted over, sitting partially over the break
between the seats where he could lean against Giles. If it made driving
awkward for Giles, he didn't say anything.

When they finally got home, Xander found a resurgence of energy -- just
enough to get himself out of the car and headed for the stairs, once again
with Giles' hand on his shoulder.

Once inside, Giles guided him to the couch and settled him there. "I'll be
right back," he promised then headed to the bathroom. Before Xander had a
chance to react he was back, handing Xander a glass of water and two of the
painkillers he hadn't needed for the last few days.

He took them, downing half the glass of water. It made him feel better,
made it easier to breath deep again. He collapsed against the back of the
couch and stared up at the ceiling. "I forgot...."

He'd forgotten what he'd intended to remember.

"It's all right." Giles sat down beside him, reaching out to brush his
hair off his forehead.

"Do I have to go to school tomorrow?" he asked, hearing himself whining a
little and not caring. He didn't want to leave the house - might not leave
his bedroom, as soon as he reached it.

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"Oh." He had a feeling he'd remembered that already. 

"And we'll see about Monday when it comes." Giles tone was as soothing as
his touch.

Xander closed his eyes, and let Giles' voice wash through him. He'd never

once raised his voice at him in anger. Never once said anything horrible
to him. All he'd ever heard was how good and capable and smart and loved
he was.

He wanted to wrap himself in that voice.

"You're tired."

He nodded. He could slide sideways and go to sleep, but then he'd
probably roll over in his sleep and fall off the couch. He'd done it all
the time when he was a kid.

Giles tugged gently on his arm, pulling until he was leaning against him.
"Rest then. I've got you."

He let himself relax. He knew he wouldn't fall. He wondered if he could
ask Giles for a story, to let his voice follow him like Willow's did to
keep the dreams at bay.

He probably could.

"Could you...talk to me?" he asked, sleepily.

There was a pause and then Giles asked, "How about this?" Clearing his
throat, he began to sing softly.

Xander smiled, wide enough that it woke him up slightly. He snuggled in,
and listened.

He wasn't even aware of when he drifted off.

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

Part Two

When he woke up, his first thought was, yeah, didn't fall. Giles was
still holding him. On the heels of that thought was wondering when supper
was. It was the first time in a while, as far as he could remember, that
he'd actually felt hungry.

"Good evening," Giles greeted him quietly when he saw he was awake. He
didn't, however, let go. 

"Hey." Xander turned slightly to free his right hand so he could rub at
his face. He still felt like his muscles had been turned to rubber, then
stretched beyond recoil. But the aching numbness had passed, and he could
think again.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. Don't you get bored, just sitting there hanging onto me?" He
couldn't see any books within arms' reach.

Giles shook his head. "Not in the least."

"Huh. Must be a Watcher thing. Trained to sit and...er...watch." Xander
carefully dragged himself up-right.

"Among other things." He loosened his grip enough to let Xander sit up,
but otherwise didn't move away.

"So, um," Xander tried to figure out why he was feeling nervous. Unless
it was just the basic awkwardness of having been exactly where he wanted to
be. 

"Would you like something to eat?"

"Always?" 

The smile Giles gave him -- a little sad around the edges -- made him
think he hadn't been fooling his guardian at all the past week or so.

Xander amended, "When I'm not zombie boy?" He couldn't even remember
anything they'd had for supper the past week. He had a vague recollection
of walnut pancakes for breakfast.

"You've had a lot to deal with," Giles said diplomatically.

He nodded. He hadn't even begun to think about what he had to process --
it felt like it would be simply too overwhelming to admit he had things to
deal with. Hence the last week spent in la-la land.
He suspected it was time to start dealing, though. Only he hadn't a clue
where he could start.

Giles answered that for him. "Supper," he said, getting up from the couch
and pulling Xander with him. "And after...we'll talk."

Xander had a brief sensation of being led to his doom -- then he forced it
away and followed Giles into the kitchen. He tried to focus on what he
might actually want to eat. Besides chocolate.

Giles opened a cupboard and pulled out a couple of cans. "This all right?"
he asked, turning around to face Xander. "I don't think either of us is up
to something that requires a great deal of preparation."

Xander found himself grinning. He hadn't even known they had any Chef
Boyardee, much less the Beefaroni. "Do we have any crackers?" he asked,
moving forward to peer into the open cabinet.

"In the bread cupboard." Giles nodded towards the cupboard on the end
where the bread was usually stored.

"Of course. What was I thinking?" He went over and found, incredibly,
there was half a box of soda crackers left.

The food was quickly heated up and they sat down at the table to eat it. 
Xander found himself hungry enough and interested enough in eating that as
he cleaned his bowl, he was wondering what else there was. Specifically,
whether there was any chocolate. Or more pasta. 

Before he could ask, Giles was dishing him out a second helping. "Nice to
see your appetite back."

"Nothing like a--" he cut off the word 'cuddle' and replaced it hurriedly
with, "week off to make me hungry, I guess."

Giles nodded. "Imploding has a tendency to do that."

Xander looked up, mouth open to ask -- then realized it might be none of
his business.

"You can ask me anything," Giles encouraged, seeming to read Xander's
uncertainty.

"You, um, just sound like you...have experience with imploding. First
hand."

"I do."

He shifted in his chair, wondering if he needed to know the details. "How
do you...stop?"

"It isn't easy."

He set his spoon down, only halfway through his second bowl. But he was
less hungry, now. He could feel himself poised to go, again, let
everything spin away -- and didn't want to let it. There ought to be a way
to at least get a hold of one tiny piece of himself.

"You have to let it out. Face it. Put a name to your feelings and accept
and deal with them."

"But I don't even know what I feel." As he said it, he knew it wasn't
entirely true. The problem was that he wasn't sure he should be feeling
anything besides relief.

"Don't you?"

Xander looked up again, found Giles watching him calmly. He had an eerie
feeling that Giles already knew everything that was inside him. 
That made it both harder, and easier, to say. "I don't want him dead. 
I'm not sorry he's dead -- but I am. I wished him dead a thousand times,
and--"

"And now you feel guilty for that?"

He nodded. 

Giles was silent for a moment and then said carefully, "It's human nature
to take responsibility and feel guilt for things outside our control. I
won't tell you you shouldn't feel guilty because feelings do not respond to
logic, but I will tell you it wasn't your fault. You weren't to blame,
Xander."

He was, though. He couldn't explain that to Giles, but he knew if he
hadn't been...whatever he was -- dating sounded so prosaic -- with Spike,
then Spike would never have killed his father. It wasn't like it was
Spike's fault he'd cared enough about Xander to want to kill the man who
had hurt him.

Xander looked at that thought again.

Kinda like Giles had been. And Buffy. And Willow, though none of them
would have gone as far as actually killing his father. He thought.

However, looking back at his memories of the night he was attacked, fuzzy
as they were, he couldn't say for sure that Giles would've stopped if
Xander hadn't needed him. It suddenly wasn't so bad, thinking about Spike
killing, to protect him. Thinking of Giles doing the same thing. 
Completely apart from whatever he felt about his father being dead -- it
was nice, knowing someone would go so far for him.

"When someone dies, it's an ending," Giles continued. "Even if the
relationship wasn't a good one, as long as someone is still alive there is
a chance, however small, that it will improve. That the person will change
and make amends. That you can still win their approval. But once the person
dies, you lose that chance. It's perfectly normal to grieve that loss."

There was no way Giles hadn't been through exactly this. Either that, or
Watcher training was a lot more encompassing than Xander had thought. 
Everything he'd just said resonated exactly with how he felt. "So, it
isn't him I'm grieving? It's...that now he's never gonna--"

"You're grieving the father he could have been. The one you wanted him to
be."

"But I don't need him," Xander protested, confusion overwhelmed by anger. 
"I haven't needed him being my father for years. Why would I care if he
can't, now?"

Giles looked at him for a long moment. "None of us ever totally grow up,
especially when dealing with our parents. Somewhere inside you is the child
Xander, who needed his father to love him."

Xander found himself standing, knocking the chair back hard. "I don't."
He balled his good hand into a fist, wanting to yell at Giles for daring
suggest he would want....

Even if he was right. The anger spilled out, leaving that child inside
him who simply wanted to scream. Xander sniffed, and looked at Giles --
who was watching him with an expression made up of compassion and
understanding, love and shared pain. That last came as something of a
shock, though he wasn't sure why. Giles was hurting because he was. Wasn't
that the way love was supposed to work?

It made him want to stop hurting, just so Giles would, too. Only he
hadn't any clue how to do that. He felt himself starting to tear up again,
and wiped at his face. Then Giles was standing, opening his arms and
inviting him in.

"It's gonna stop, right?" he asked as he moved forward into the embrace. 
He sometimes felt like he did nothing but live in Giles' arms. It occurred
to him that wasn't such a bad thing.

"I won't lie to you, Xander. The regret is probably always going to be
there. But it will get better. Take on its proper perspective."

"It'll stop hurting? I won't feel like...." His voice dropped and he
tried to keep talking. "Like everything he did to me is finally hurting? 
It never used to hurt like this. It didn't."

Giles' arms tightened around him. "It will stop."

And that, despite everything he could feel, made it better. If Giles said
it got better...it had to. He buried his face against Giles' chest, and
let Giles hold him together while he let himself fall apart.

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

Saturday morning, Xander dragged himself out of bed and headed for the
bathroom. He was long over feeling weird at waking up in Giles' bed,
though he wasn't sure he'd be so blase about it if he ever woke up with
Giles still in the bed with him. After his stop at the bathroom, he
followed his nose to the kitchen. 

"Good morning," Giles said with a smile, looking up from his cooking.

Xander went over to peer around Giles at the stove, leaning against Giles
as he did so. Then he blinked. "You would be making what?"

His guardian chuckled. "This would be porridge."

He looked at it again. "You're having me on. You're making boiled,
mushed Chinese radishes, aren't you?" 

"Would I do that to you first thing in the morning?"

"By the time I go shower and get dressed, it'll be fourth thing in the
morning. So, yes." Xander stayed where he was, leaning just a little more
against Giles -- until it was almost completely impossible for Giles to
maneuver.

Giles didn't say anything about it, just gave him a smile. "Would you like
to help?"

"Nope."

That earned him an eye roll and another smile. A moment later, Giles' arm
casually wound its way around his waist. Xander moved a tiny bit so he
could rest his hand on Giles' shoulder, and his head on his hand and still
be not completely out of the way. Then he saw a jar of oatmeal flakes
sitting on the counter, and stiffened. Giles gave him a questioning look.

He untangled himself from Giles, and walked around to his other side. 
Picking up the jar, he looked from it to the pan -- making the very obvious
connection. "This is porridge? Before it turns into mushed radishes?"

"You didn't know?"

"This is stuff you make cookies out of!" Xander grinned suddenly. 
"You've been feeding me cookies?"

Giles blinked. "I suppose you could look at it that way."

Xander chortled. "You know what this means?" He went over to the cabinet
behind them and began rummaging.

"I shudder to even guess."

"Chocolate!"

Giles rolled his eyes again, but didn't say anything.

However, he didn't pull out a candy bar, as he figured Giles was
expecting. Instead he had the chocolate syrup in hand, for chocolate milk.
Chocolate milk of the "would you like some milk in your chocolate?" variety.

"Ah, of course," Giles murmured. "Cookies require milk."

"D'uh." He paused as he got a glass down, setting it beside the syrup and
milk. "You want some?"

There was a long pause. "All right."

With a triumphant grin, Xander grabbed a second glass. For a moment he
considered preparing Giles' milk the Xander Way, then relented and left the
second glass of milk un-syruped.

"This is almost done if you want to set the table."

"Setting shall commence." He moved to get bowls, trying not to grin at
the odd look Giles sent his way.

It wasn't long before they were sitting down and eating. "What did you
want to do today?" Giles asked.

The manic energy which had been slowly building crested, and left him
flailing for a moment. Plans. For the day. Xander found that his
new-found ability to think didn't quite cover things beyond the next ten
minutes.

"I thought perhaps we could go out," Giles continued. "Do...something."

"OK. Sounds do-able." He'd let Giles decide. Unless he suggested the
grocery store at ten am on a Saturday morning.

"We could invite Buffy and Willow along..."

Xander nodded. Stirred some more cinnamon into his porridge. It was good
stuff, he admitted to himself. Never tell Giles he liked something quite
so good for him. But good stuff, especially with chocolate syrup milk to
go with.

"Do you want to call them then? Or do you want me to?"

"I can call Willow." He started to stand up to go do so, then realized he
might as well finish breakfast first. He recognized the feeling trying to
creep into him, and tried to decide if he wanted to. Implode again.

He sighed. He was too tired to implode. He ate another spoonful of
porridge and asked, "Do we know where we're going? Or should they just meet
us here and we can sit around for an hour trying to decide what we wanna
do?" He was almost smiling again by the time he'd finished asking.

"Hopefully it won't take quite that long, but we can decide when they
arrive."

"You've never spent a Saturday morning with Willow, trying to decide what
to do. Trust me, an hour is nothing. We've been known to spend all day
trying to decide on something."

"I will try to step in decisively if it begins to draw out," Giles promise
with a tiny smile.

Xander laughed. It wasn't exactly funny, but he suddenly had an image of
he, Willow, and Buffy, sprawled around the living room, doing the 'I dunno,
what do you want to do?' and Giles, standing there with a determined look,
saying, "All right, that's final! Flu shots for everyone!"

Xander lost it, and began laughing harder.

"I suspect I'm missing most of the joke here," Giles commented, smiling
fondly at him.

Xander nodded, still laughing. When he was able to calm himself down a
little, he went to go call Willow. Nothing like giggling over the phone at
her to make her think he was really doing better.

After a relatively short time, they decided to go to a movie then
just...wander and see what presented itself. Xander gave Giles a knowing
look when Giles had agreed to 'just wander'. But truthfully, it sounded
wonderful. Perhaps it was just knowing he didn't have to decide, didn't
have to be responsible for entertaining anyone. He suspected he'd have
agreed to go almost anywhere, if all he had to do was be there.

The others seemed to sense that and he wasn't asked to decide anything
more complicated than if he wanted extra butter on his popcorn. Willow
attached herself to his side, acting as escort and go-between and general
"I am your brain today, do as I say". 

It was Buffy, though, who ended up steering them to the arcade. Giles was
tapped for money for tokens, then surprised them all by heading towards the
games, himself.

What was even more surprising was that he was actually good. When Xander
said as much, Giles just looked at him and muttered something about a not
entirely criminally misspent youth. Then he gave Xander more tokens and
sent him off to find his friends. 

Xander noticed, though, that Giles was never that far away. Not exactly
hovering, but being near. Just in case Xander needed him.

He didn't have to wander far -- Willow was only a few games away, at Ms.
PacMan. Buffy was across the room -- Xander caught sight of the game she
was playing and went over. "Vampire gophers?" he asked, as she whapped
another one.

"Teachers who give homework on the weekend," she responded, whapping two
in quick succession.

"Nice shot." He almost asked who had given them homework, then decided he
didn't need to make Buffy give him one of those worried looks. It occurred
to him that his homework fairy probably already had it done for him.

"Thanks." She glanced at him in between whaps. "You think we could get
Giles to add this to the training regimen?"

"The bop'em gophers or the whole arcade?"

"The whole arcade. We're talking mucho hand/eye coordination and reflex
development."

"I like the way you think." He looked around and spotted Giles near
another video game, something with a steering wheel and pedals -- and from
the look of it, either Giles was on the slalom race, or he was forgoing the
'stay on the road' rule.

One final dead gopher and the game ended. "You think we can talk him into
it?"

"I think we can. Come on." 

She grinned and followed him across the arcade.

They walked up to stand beside Giles, gathering Willow along the way, who
gave them a curious look. They waited patiently for Giles to kill himself
against a large rock.

Then Xander asked, in as casual and doesn't-this-not-sound-planned voice
as he could, "Dad, can we do this again next Saturday?"

He watched as Giles got what Xander was beginning to think of as the
"fatherhood" expression. "I suppose we could...."

"Cool! Thanks." Xander took Buffy and Willow by their arms. "You two
owe me a game of Bomberman."

"Does that work with anything?" Willow asked when they were out of Giles'
earshot.

"So far, yeah," Xander admitted. He enjoyed the impressed look on
Willow's face, which then turned thoughtful.

"Be careful to only use your power for good," Buffy teased him. "Or
chocolate."

Xander grinned. After Xander put a few tokens in the Bomberman machine
and he and Buffy took up their places, Willow asked, "Xander? There's this
book Giles won't let me borrow. Do you think you could--?"

"Consider it done."

********

Part Three

By Sunday evening Xander was feeling almost human again. Not completely
-- he had spent several hours over the weekend staring into the darker
recesses of his brain, hoping nothing came out. But he'd also relaxed
some, both out with his friends and at home, with Giles.

He'd been considering the question of school the next day, and was
thinking he'd opt to go - if only because classes would give him something
to do. Giles was leaving the decision up to him, but making it clear that
he didn't need to go if he wasn't ready. Actually, his guardian seemed more
nervous about it than he did.

Every time Xander mentioned school, Giles would reiterate that he needn't
go if he didn't feel up to it. Xander had half-way decided to take the day
off, if only because he could. But he was a little afraid of staying home
all day with nothing to distract him from thinking about why he was staying
home.

Giles stopped himself in the middle of yet another spiel and looked
closer. "You want to go, though."

Xander shrugged. "I missed a whole week already."

"That isn't important. But if you want to go..."

He was close to teetering on his decision to go. But he said, "I think I
do. But I can change my mind in the morning."

"Yes, of course. Or even later. If you go and decide you're not ready."

Xander tried not to smile at Giles' determination to prevent him from
upsetting himself. Perhaps if he let Giles spend the rest of the evening
pampering him, he'd relax....

Sounded good, anyway.

They spent the evening not doing much beyond TV and the occasional 'could
you get me a snack?'. The next morning, Xander got up and got ready for
school. Giles was still hovering, worriedly. He was trying to hide the
worry, but Xander could still see it, mostly in the way he kept glancing at
Xander when he thought the younger man wasn't looking.

He was tempted to stick his tongue out during one of those glances, but in
the end just went to school, promising the entire way that he wouldn't stay
if he didn't want to.

"You can leave any time," Giles told him, over and over.

"I know," he said, patiently. Again.

"I'm repeating myself, aren't I?"

"Not more than a couple dozen times." He gave Giles a smile. "I
appreciate it, though. Really."

Giles looked embarrassed. "I just don't want you to be pressured before
you're ready."

"I know. And believe me, I am glad you're trying so hard. But I won't
stay if I don't want to. I mean, listen to me - demanding to go to
school?" He laughed once. "I must be crazy."

"That is a bit out of character," Giles admitted with a smile. "Though not
as much as you'd like to pretend."

He sniffed haughtily. "I never pretend to dislike school." 

"No?" Giles sounded amused.

"Um." He thought back over what he was saying. Didn't want to lock
himself out of ever skipping school in the future. With permission, which
was more fun and challenging than simply not showing. "I never pretend I
don't want to not to go to school because I don't not want to." He had no
idea what he'd just said, and hopefully Giles wouldn't either.

"Nice to see such enthusiasm for learning."

He counted back over his negatives, and still had no idea what he'd said. 
He nodded. "See?"

Giles threw back his head and laughed.


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


By the following Saturday, Xander hadn't even felt a twinge from his ribs
for three days. The doctor had tentatively said he could resume his usual
activities, as long as he was careful. Xander didn't ask if demon-slaying
counted as usual -- from the look Giles had given him, he suspected he was
going to be benched for a couple more weeks until his guardian felt he was
up to dealing with it.

That is, until Giles was up to dealing with Xander helping Buffy on the
front lines. Xander had teased him a couple times that morning, testing
the waters. Giles was still trying too hard not to twitch when he
mentioned it, so Xander figured he wouldn't push. Yet. 

He did, however, get an afternoon free from supervision. He'd sworn he'd
be good and promised to call and agreed to be home well in time for supper.
All in all nothing more than he wanted to do anyhow, but he *was* glad to
be finally free of watchful eyes for a few hours.

He went to the warehouse straight away. He'd managed to call Spike three
times since his visit, kept him as updated as Xander wanted to risk, on his
progress. Something told him that if he weren't careful, he'd end up with
a chaperone at his window while he slept. That wouldn't be so bad if it
weren't for the fact Xander knew he wouldn't be sleeping if Spike were
staring at him all night. He grinned as he entered the warehouse without
bothering to call out for Spike.

"Hello, luv!" He heard the cheerful -- and very close by -- greeting a
half-second before hands were around him and a mouth was on his. He smiled
into the kiss, welcoming the 'intrusion' as sorely-missed. He wrapped his
arms around Spike, his cast offering only minimal hindrance. It'd be off
soon, but it was nothing to keep him from being here now. 

When Spike let him go, Xander gave him a smile. "Miss me?"

Spike growled. "Not any more. You're here all afternoon, you said?"

Xander nodded.

"Good." Spike gave him a predatory grin. "Dru's sleeping at a friend's
house. Well, crypt. Won't be back til...possibly next month. I've seen
her friend." He leaned in and began licking Xander's neck Xander
shivered. "So if you want to stay a week, I won't mind."

"Can't," Xander said easily. He knew Spike knew he wouldn't say yes --
but the thought of staying, being here for days on end, doing nothing but
sleeping and having sex.....

"Oh, yeah... love it when you do that."

Xander pressed himself against Spike, his erection already stiffening. 
"Love it when you make me, too." Xander groaned, and took Spike's mouth in
another kiss. He continued the kiss, rubbing at Spike's mouth with his
tongue as he felt hands beginning to tug at his slacks. He shifted his
weight back a bit, giving Spike's hands access to the zipper they were so
clearly after.

He moaned as fingers brushed across his cock as his slacks and underwear
were pushed down. Spike leaned back, grinning at him, and crouched to
finish removing them. Xander stepped out of his shoes, then swallowed as
Spike merely stayed where he was, looking up at him.

"You gonna---ooooh." His wit failed him as Spike licked the tip of his
cock. He closed his eyes, concentrating on maintaining his balance. He
opened them again wide, when Spike stood back up and took his hand. 
"Wha--?" he managed, then simply followed as Spike led him to a bed. 

He had time to notice the covers were already pulled back, and wondered
just how long ago Spike had started getting ready for his visit. Then he
was being laid on his back and Spike was leaning over him, and his thoughts
were switching back over to guttural moans.

Spike crouched at the foot of the bed and looked at him. He nudged at
Xander's leg, and Xander spread them, as requested. Spike watched him,
staring at Xander's cock. Nervously, Xander reached down to touch himself.

"Yeah," Spike whispered, and Xander began to rub himself. He could feel
Spike's exhalation on his leg as he spoke again. "Just like that, Xan. 
Show me...."

Xander whimpered, and repositioned his legs, pressing his feet against the
mattress. Spike wrapped his hands around Xander's legs just above each
ankle, and held on. The strength of his grasp made Xander shiver again,
knowing that if he asked Spike would...might let go. His hand moved
faster, and his legs trembled with the conflicting desire to pull free and
remain firmly held.

He stopped his hand, suddenly, and looked at Spike. Spike's eyes were
widely dilated, obviously struggling to refocus his gaze from Xander's cock
to his face. "Eh? What...?"

"Come up here," Xander invited. He could easily bring himself off this
way, but he wanted to feel Spike against him when he did. More than just
his gaze; he wanted that body pressing on him.

With an eager look, Spike crawled partway up the bed and hovered above
him, head even with Xander's crotch. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Xander nodded. Spike reached down and moved Xander's hand away,
took firm hold of Xander's cock and resumed the fast, hard jerk. Xander
swallowed his cry reflexively, pushing himself upwards towards Spike,
farther into his grip.

"Like that?" Spike asked in a quiet voice, and Xander could only produce
monosyllables in response. The moans turned sharply into panting,
strangled breaths when he felt Spike's other hand slip underneath him,
fingers working their way between his cheeks.

As if of their own volition, his legs came up, both begging for more and
granting easier access. He heard Spike's chuckle, then Xander's entire
body tensed as he felt a single finger slip in. It wriggled a bit, and
Xander pulled his knees towards his chest, offering incoherent thanks to
whomever that his ribs no longer hurt.

There was a brief moment when the finger left, then there were two,
pressing inside him. He began panting harder, wanting to grab Spike and
force him to do more.

"Somebody's ready," Spike said, sounding amused.

"Been...practicing," Xander managed when Spike left his fingers and other
hand still. Xander took advantage of the respite to inhale again, and give
Spike a glare. "You stopped."

Spike wriggled his fingers in reply, and Xander let his head fall back
again, returning to unintelligible moans. He grabbed his right leg,
holding it up under the knee; his left leg he couldn't quite get a grip on.
Spike moved a bit and gave him a shoulder to drape it over -- then leaned
forward, pressing his leg in, holding it there.

The only movement Xander could feel was Spike's hands. One on him, one in
him; Xander pushed as well as he could from the position he was in, against
both. Again the fingers left briefly, then this time there were three. 
They sank in easily and Xander cried out, pulling Spike towards him with
his left leg.

Spike chuckled. "You have been practicing. Been getting ready for me?"

Xander nodded. He'd been playing with himself, carefully, indulging in
fantasies he hoped to play out. Sometimes when he'd wake from one of
*those* dreams, he'd masturbate to furiously replaced images of Spike. But
right now all his brain could see were lights, exploding. 

"You want me in there?" Spike near-growled, and Xander nodded, unable to
voice any of the pleading he knew had to be written all over his face. 
God, he just wanted to feel-- and he shouted, as Spike hit that spot,
brushed it once and then again and then.... Xander tossed his head from
side to side, trying to move and unable to against the heavy weight of
Spike, holding him down. Holding him down and open and fucking him.... He
heard himself making sudden, loud noises, and felt a nip at his leg.

"Spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike," he begged.

For one horrifying moment everything stopped. He opened his eyes and
focused.

"You're sure?"

"Fuck me, dammit!" If he wasn't sure, he'd have said so ages ago, or
kicked Spike when he'd first dared touch him. Spike's hungry smile
reappeared and he moved away, towards the side of the bed.

When he returned, he was already applying a generous amount of lube to his
cock. Xander blinked, wondering just when Spike had unzipped his jeans,
decided he could care less. Spike was still otherwise fully dressed, but
Xander wasn't about to call things to a halt just so he could strip. 

Spike returned to his previous position, slightly adjusted so he was right
between Xander's legs. He touched Xander again, lightly, with a ghost of a
finger, then he was raising Xander's hips just enough-- and slamming
himself home.

Xander screamed, pulling his legs up and out as hard as he could, already
moving up and down in tiny movements. The sensation was more than he'd
ever felt, home alone with only his hand for enjoyment. Though the pain
was unexpected, the sight of Spike, fully vamped out above him, shocked him
from thinking of calling for a moment to wait. He whimpered as Spike
moved, feeling his body starting to split open. Then Spike leaned down and
bit his leg again, not quite breaking skin and Xander felt his cock
screaming for its own release.

He was still panting, still making those stupid half-cries that were
echoing in the huge, empty warehouse. Anyone wandering by would think he
was being killed. Spike held him down, hands on Xander's hips, and thrust
again. His ass reacted, spasming around the cock inside him, and Xander
let his head fall back again and took it.

The moment he relaxed, Spike thrust in again. Again, and again, and
somewhere in those thrusts Xander began whimpering and pleading, for the
pain had somehow vanished, swarmed over by the feeling each time the head
of Spike's cock hit his prostate. Every thrust made it build, coiling
inside him until Xander felt as if he had to scream or the feeling would
tear him apart from the inside out.

Instead he merely panted, gasping for air and clutching at the sheets
beneath him. He could hear Spike again, growling and snarling and his head
was thrown back for a single, long howl. Xander stared at him, feeling
everything freeze.

Then Spike moved again and Xander's world turned black. 

He opened his eyes to find Spike lying beside him, one arm draped over his
chest, one leg snaked between his. Spike smiled when he saw Xander look at
him, and leaned in for a kiss.

"Mrugh," Xander said.

"Thank you." Spike kissed him, then lay down beside him and snuggled in.

Xander woke up a while later, held in place by the weight of a sleeping
vampire. Spike had an arm and a leg thrown over him and his face buried in
Xander's neck. It was vaguely comforting until he started wondering if
Spike ever ate in his sleep. Spike chose that moment to stir slightly,
tightening his grip a little...and nuzzling.

"Yipe," Xander said, holding perfectly still.

"Mmm?" came a sleepy response. Otherwise Spike didn't move.

"Teeth. Neck. Bad."

There was a pause. Then, sounding slightly more awake, "Bad?"

"Your teeth. My neck. No hickeys, remember?"

Spike sighed. "I wasn't doing anything. Nibbling, maybe," he added.

"Nibbling. No nibbling. Nibbling bad." He could imagine himself trying to
explain that to Giles: "It's all right, he was just nibbling on me."
Somehow he didn't think that was going to go over well.

"Nibble, nibble, mousey...." Spike muttered in what almost sounded like
singing. But he made no further move to put his teeth on Xander's skin.

Slowly, Xander relaxed again, only realizing when he did that he had
tensed in the first place. Spike, on the other hand, was still laying
there, limp as a impotent cock. Showing no interest in moving for the rest
of the day, Xander knew from experience. 

He was having more trouble getting back to that boneless, mindless state.
What if he hadn't been awake? Would Spike have "nibbled" on him? Would he
have stopped?

Xander swallowed hard as he realized he didn't know. Worse, he didn't know
what he could have done if Spike hadn't stopped. Basically nothing, since
he'd long since stopped carrying anything anti-vamp when he came over here.
He felt a sudden chill.

"Xan?" Spike was looking at him, again, once again barely-awake.

"I gotta go," he heard himself say.

"Hm?" This time, Spike sat up. "Go?"

"Yeah." He sat up as well, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
Trying to not seem like he's running away.

"You don't have to," Spike offered. There was the slightest bit
of...hope? Disappointment? in his voice. Or maybe he was just still
half-awake.

"Yeah, I do. Don't want to worry Giles. I've just got him out of
over-protective mode." Where was his pants? 

"He is," Spike said, with an odd inflection. He pointed towards Xander's
pants, scrunched on the floor, halfway beneath a chair.

"Thanks," he muttered, retrieving them and putting them on. "Yeah," he
said, continuing what he'd been talking about before, "He's been hovering
over me, making sure I'm okay. Living up to that title of Watcher; that's
what's he been doing: watching me."

Spike's eyes traveled the length of Xander's body. "Yeah, I can see that,
I guess."

Xander blushed, as much from the thought of Giles looking at him like that
as from Spike's gaze.

"Suppose if you have to go...." Spike walked forward, touching Xander's
back before he could put his shirt on. Trailing his fingernails lightly
down his skin, Spike leaned in. "Or you could stay."

He shivered as parts of him heartily seconded that suggestion. "I-"

Spike kissed his shoulder. Licked his way up towards his neck....

And the next thing Xander knew he was across the room, breathing hard. He
looked back to find Spike blinking at him. He started to frown, then,
inexplicably, laughed. Anger bubbled up inside Xander. "What?" he all but
yelled.

"Jumpy, aren't we?" He was still grinning, looking for all like he had
that first night Xander had met him. Except for the being naked. "Come
on, I'm not going to bite you. Told you that."

"Yeah." He finished putting on his shirt, his movements jerky with anger
-- at Spike or at himself, he wasn't sure. "I gotta go."

He didn't get an answer this time. When he looked over, Spike was still
just watching him. Almost like he didn't care. Which made Xander feel
even more like an idiot than he already did. He turned on his heel and
walked out.

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

Part Four

The sun was bright and warm when he stepped outside. He stopped for a
moment -- fully in the sun -- and tilted his head back. He had to do
something. Only he didn't know what. Talking to Giles was out. The only
one who knew about Spike and him was...Angel. Could he...?

Possibly. If not, at least he wouldn't go running to Giles. Might hound
Xander to do so, but not do it, himself. And if things got really bad, he
might even help Xander--

Both against Spike and with Giles, because if things got that bad he would
have to tell Giles about it. Then he'd spend the rest of his life under
armed guard against his own stupidity. But lectures and holy water
dousings would be nothing compared to turning his lover to dust because
he'd suddenly become untrustworthy. 

Xander wanted to smack himself. There had to be a reason he got himself
into these things. With a sigh, he headed off, to see how..if he needed to
get himself out of this one. It had to say something about his life that
he was spending the day visiting the undead. He wasn't sure he wanted to
know what. 

When he reached Angel's apartment he hesitated before knocking. Doubts
and second-guesses starting running through his mind. There was everything
reason to think-- he knocked.

There was a silent pause before the door swung open and Angel, half-naked
and hair mussed with sleep, looked at him. "Xander?" He sounded worried. 
Then looked alarmed.

"Um, hi." He nervously ran a hand through his hair.

"Are you all right?" Of course, he knew where Xander had been. Xander
could tell by the way Angel's eyes were looking dangerous. Like he might
go break something.

"I'm fine," he quickly assured him. "I just...can we talk?"

"Of course." Angel stepped back to let him inside. "Come in."

Xander stepped across the threshold and went into the living room, turning
to face Angel and bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

"Spike?"

He nodded. "Or maybe it's me. I don't know." He sunk down on Angel's couch.

"What happened?" Angel asked sternly. It made him sound completely in
control. Xander found it reassuring. 

"He...nibbled." It didn't sound nearly as daunting saying it out loud as
it had in his thoughts.

"Are you all right?" The way he asked made Xander feel not quite so
stupid for saying it. There *was*, despite the emotional wiggins, the
actual physical danger. Which was part of the emotional wiggins. Or the
entire.

"Yeah." He tilted his head to either side. "Not even a hickey. It
just...freaked me out a little."

Angel nodded, leaned back against the wall. Arms folded, he looked at
Xander. Waited. He could almost hear the "told you so" that Angel wasn't
saying.

"I'm probably being unfair, I mean he didn't *do* anything-"

"Except almost bite you."

Xander felt a sudden pull on his leg. Not almost. But he hadn't *taken*
anything...had he? "He promised he wouldn't," he said softly, wrapping his
arms around himself.

"Xander... Spike's word is good only as long as he wants it to be. That
can be ten minutes or a hundred and twenty six years, at last count. I
know he cares about you. But that doesn't mean he's safe. Or that he'll
decide this is a promise he'll keep forever."

"I know." He did. But that didn't explain the disappointment he felt at
Angel's confirming it.

Angel moved forward, then, and crouched in front of him. "Xander. He
might care about you as much as he can care about anything. But that won't
change what he is. It won't make him into one of the good guys. He can
love you, and still be evil. Still-" Angel cut himself off, but from the
way he was looking at him, Xander thought he knew what else Angel wanted to
say.

Still kill people. "I know."

"Xander, believe me, I know what it's like. You equate love with being
hurt, and you--"

"What? No, I don't!"

Angel just looked at him. 

He didn't. Equate love with being hurt? That was ridiculous. He knew what
love was, it was.... It was hugs and porridge, good grades put up on the
refrigerator, and being sung to sleep.

It was Giles.

It wasn't broken promises, it wasn't being laughed at. It wasn't fear. 
But...it was, too. Because Spike didn't hate him. If anything, he thought
little of him -- but why would he have gone so crazy at the thought of
Xander being hurt? Kill, for him? Yeah, it was twisted and sick and
maybe...not loving. But it was love.

Of a sort.

"I don't equate being hurt with love," he repeated, but admitted, "Maybe I
don't find the two mutually exclusive."

"There was a time when I thought Darla loved me. Because she'd given me a
gift beyond my wildest dreams." Angel's eyes darkened as his focus left
Xander for something far, far away.

Xander shivered. "Some gift," he muttered.

"Yeah. Some gift." Angel stood, and walked away a few steps. 
"Xander...I may be the wrong person to be saying this, but even if Spike
does love you - is it worth it?" 

"If I knew the answer to that I wouldn't be here."

Angel nodded. After a pause, he asked, "Did you want my opinion? Or just
someone who could listen without staking you?"

He smiled a little at that last. "You're just going to tell me I should
give him up."

"You won't, though, until you're ready. Or it's too late. I can't make
that decision for you."

"I'll think about it." That was all he could promise.

Then there was silence, neither of them speaking, and neither of them
moving. Angel suddenly looked awkward, like he had reached the end of his
skills as a host.

"Um...so, what's been happening with you?"

Angel half-grinned. "Same old. Buffy, patrolling, and brooding. I'd,
uh, offer you something to drink, but I don't really have anything. I have
water."

"That's okay, I'm fine, thanks." Another silence fell and Xander shifted
in his seat. "So how are you and the Bufster doing?"

Angel shrugged. "Well enough." He didn't sound particularly enthused.

"That doesn't sound like a happy well enough."

"Oh, don't get me wrong - I love her. Whenever I'm with her, I just want
to-- kiss her all night." He sounded a lot more enthusiastic.

Xander grinned. "I can understand that. Buffy is imminently kissable. Not
that I've kissed her."

Angel returned the grin. Then it faded. "I just wish...."

"What?"

"I don't know. Sometimes when I listen to her talk, I find myself
thinking...." He looked guilty again. 

"What? It can't be any worse than me letting Spike nibble on me..."

"Have you ever had Buffy pout at you?" Angel countered.

"Not directly. I've seen her pout at Giles, though." He put on his most
sympathetic face. "She's been pouting at you?"

"Not yet. Not...as much as she's capable of. But -- I know girls. She
twists me around her little finger like I'm not old enough to know better. 
I find myself agreeing with things before I even know she's asked me for
something." He shook his head. "It'd be great, if--" He sighed. "If I
didn't find myself thinking I don't...."

Xander looked at him encouragingly. "Don't...?"

"Sometimes I don't think I love her."

Oh. "Um...that's, um...."

"Not what you expected to hear?" Angel half-smiled.

"That was so far from what I expected to hear, we're talking different
dimensions."

Angel's half-smile melted into a real smile. "Believe me, sometimes I
think I'm in another dimension from where I think I am. Or ought to be. I
mean, Buffy loves me. With everything that she is, and I--" He stopped,
obviously trying to think of what to say. "I'd be a fool not to just want
that. Forever."

"But you feel what you feel." There was a familiar ring to that.

"Yeah. When I'm with her, it's all I want. To be with her, forever. She
makes me feel...things I've never felt in my entire life. She makes me
feel loved."

Oh, yeah, he knew that feeling. "That can make you a little crazy."

"I don't want to lose her," Angel said quickly. "And I do...care about
her. Sometimes I even think I love her. Sometimes I think I love the idea
of her."

"So basically we're both screwed up in love."

"Basically," Angel agreed. 

"Nice to know I'm not alone."

"No, you're not alone." 

Xander had a feeling he was talking about more than being screwed up. 
"Are we having a Moment?"

"I think so. I'm not sure -- it's been a long time since I had a Moment,"
Angel said, almost seriously.

"How long?"

Angel started to think about it, then the silence dragged. His expression
turned more thoughtful. Finally he said, "Spike."

"Spike?"

"Spike. Was my last Moment. About a hundred years ago."

This he had to hear. He looked attentive. 

Angel looked embarrassed. "It was after I got my soul. I...found Spike
and Dru, wanted to apologize. There was no way, of course. But I had to
try something."

"What did you try?"

If anything, he looked even more embarrassed. "Um. I...well, Dru was
easier. She was insane," and a dark look passed over his face, darker than
Xander ever wanted to see again. "I brought her presents, and she said she
forgave me. She didn't, but she was happy."

Willfully ignoring the insane bit, Xander asked, "And Spike?"

In a quiet, almost dead voice, Angel said, "I told Spike he could ask me
for anything. And I'd give it to him."

"What did he ask for?" he asked, just as hushed.

"He asked me to go away." Angel's gaze flickered up at him, met Xander's
gaze for a moment before falling away again.

"Um...don't take this the wrong way, but as Moments go, that pretty much
sucks."

"Oh, that wasn't really the moment. It was just after. He told me to go
away, so I turned around and walked out -- he ran after me. We...didn't
talk much, and he ended up saying that that was what he really wanted. 
But...for a few minutes, we...had a Moment."

"Complete with dramatic exit."

"Of course. I'm a vampire - can't expect anything less." The smile was
back, sardonic and not quite hiding a long-felt pain.

"Yeah, but I bet you have it in you to be a trendsetter. Break out of the
stereotype."

Angel shook his head. "I don't know. I'm not really good with risks."

Xander shrugged, feeling a bit like philosophy boy. "Even I know that life
is all about risks. Or, in your case, unlife."

"Yeah, but it's easier not to take risks, when you've seen what can happen
if you do." Angel shrugged, and made a visible effort to lighten the mood
again. "Besides, I have time. I can take a risk next century."

"Being a vampire gives a whole new meaning to long-term planning."

"And investment payoffs."

Xander blinked. He'd never thought of that. "Hey, does that mean you're
the man to hit up for a loan?"

"Probably. Except Giles has more than I do -- shouldn't you be asking him
for loans?"

"He does? Hey, how would you-"

Angel gave him a casual shrug. "I knew his grandparents, briefly. His
family still has the money."

He wasn't going to ask, he wasn't going- "How much?" Okay, maybe he was.

Angel blinked. "Giles hasn't told you?"

"It...hasn't come up in conversation?" It had, once, but he hadn't gotten
a real answer.

"I think this is something you should ask him about. It really isn't my
place--" Angel stood up, then, and it was that moment before the
conversation was over, time to go. Take it, or change the subject. But it
was getting late and he had promised Giles he'd be home before dinner. 

There was no awkwardness when he stood to go. Angel gave him a look of
concern and asked, "Is everything going to be...well, with Spike. If you
need-- anything. Ask me. I'll help."

"Thanks. That makes it...easier." Still incredibly confusing, but easier.

But Angel nodded, and walked him to the door. Nothing more was said, and,
as Xander left, he felt like something important had occurred. Something
like...making a friend.

********

Part Five

By the middle of February, Xander had established a nice, safe, routine. 
He was dealing with school, more or less. Taken his semester exams a
couple weeks later than everyone else, thanks to Giles, and had managed to
pass all his classes with Cs and one B -- trig. 

His friends had taken to keeping him company on weekends, whether he was
helping Buffy train, or helping Willow stand groupie duty for the Dingoes,
or just hanging out at the Bronze or at home, Xander was never left alone
unless he wanted to be.

He'd even, after a week of silence, called Spike. Kept things carefully
neutral, and made no promises to come over -- claiming homework and Giles
and anything else that didn't sound extremely lame. He didn't know if
Spike knew he was digging for space, but regardless, he had it.

His father was banished to the safer reaches of middle-of-boring class
space-outs and nightmares at 1 a.m., both easily handled through long
practice and the occasional snuggle. The only difficult part was the one
thing he hated having lost, and the one thing he was working at the hardest
to recover: the library.

It had always been a sanctuary, had became even moreso after Giles had
adopted him simply because it was Giles' domain. And his father had taken
all of that away. He couldn't relax in there anymore; even the thought of
being left alone in there made him start to shake.

Luckily, he hadn't been left alone in the library since he'd had a
complete mental breakdown from only *thinking* he was alone. He hadn't
been able to go into the library again until a week ago, and although Giles
had been right there, it had lasted all of ten minutes. 

He was now trying, every day, to spend more time there. Work his way up
to a good old fashioned all-night research party. He shivered at the
thought. Maybe in a couple more months.

Giles was nearby reorganizing the card catalogue, or at least that was
what he was pretending to do. The rapidity of his movement to Xander's side
when he shivered sort of belied any possible claims of concentrating on the
task at hand.

"Good reflex," Xander said easily, hiding both the reason he'd shivered
and the recent desire to be allowed to react to things without Giles
*over*-reacting. "How are you on the balance beam?" He told himself he
didn't need to crawl into an embrace at the mere thought of being here for
ten hours.

"I think the pertinent question is how is your balance?" Giles' eyes
searched his face.

"Fine. Stablising. It's OK as long as I don't poke at it," he babbled
his way to near-truth. 

Giles smiled faintly. "Which you can't resist doing."

He grinned, sheepishly. "Call it morbid curiousity. Or don't,
considering the Latin root of the word and I am so not into dying of
curiousity. Or curious about dying. Can I shut up now, or should I -
hey!" His eyes narrowed as he remembered something he'd meant to ask about.
As he stopped for breath though, he registered the look on Giles' face. 
"Two," he answered, before Giles could ask.

Eyes narrowed, Giles asked, "And how many chocolate bars?"

"Um?" Xander looked cute. Truthfully, one of the cokes he'd bought for
Willow, only to find her already sharing one with Oz. It wasn't like he'd
*intended* to drink two cokes and eat three candy bars.

"That's what I thought." Giles paused, then asked seriously, "Do you need
to leave?"

"No. I'm doing OK." Then he narrowed his eyes again and returned to his
earlier unasked question. "Hey." 

"Yes?"

"Are you rich?" 

Giles blinked. "Didn't we already have this conversation?"

"Yes, but I seem to recall you leaving me with the impression you could
buy me clothes and a car, not 'richer than a vampire with two hundred
years' worth of interest'." He had a sudden image of out-buying Cordelia,
even if just once. 

"Does it make a difference?"

"I'd just like to know if I'm supposed to be an elitist snob, or just
freely comfortable. Um, not that you're a snob, but I'm in high school --
I have to have *something* to flaunt before my peers. Besides a tendency
to attract bullies."

The look on Giles' face said clearly he was about to launch into lecture.

Xander spoke quickly to forestall it. "Or at least pay for the window."

Giles stopped, and blinked. "What window?" 

Xander gave him a confused look. "What window?" 

Giles opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again without saying
anything. "Either you've had too many sodas or I haven't had enough," he
finally declared.

"*I* only had three. Um, two." The ones Willow gave him never counted. 
He grinned, then took up the stack of cards Giles had set down. "So! Dewey
decimal system." 

"Um, yes." He had that uncertain,
I-know-I'm-going-to-regret-whatever-you're-planning tone in his voice.

"Filing?" Xander asked, in a 'surely nothing can go wrong, you must be
paranoid' tone of his own. Rather than the 'isn't that a Borgora demon
behind you?' tone which he'd used up the previous night.

"That's what one usually uses it for, yes."

Xander moved around to start helping with the reorganization of the card
catalogue, then asked, "Why didn't Huey and Louie get credit for helping
with this?"

That earned him one of Giles' Exasperated Looks, but no verbal answer.

He worked in silence for a moment, wondering if Giles was just ignoring
him because he'd reached his quota of hyper Xander for the day, or because
he didn't get it. Brits were so tricky, sometimes. "Ducks?"

There was a pause before Giles said, "I'm going to assume you're talking
about waterfowl and not addressing me that way."

Xander rolled his eyes, and muttered, "Brits." Then he shook his head. 
"Ducks! Huey, Dewey, and Louie! Donald's nephews; geez, what planet did
you grow up on?"

"Ah. Yes. Ducks. How...non sequitur."

"Non sequitur?" Xander asked, surprised.

"Yes. Not having anything to do with the conversation..." Giles paused.
"On second thought, that tends to be normal for you."

"I know what it means. I just meant, it wasn't. Dewey decimal system, I
asked why Huey and Louie didn't get credit for it, then asked if you knew
who I meant."

Another pause as Giles replayed their conversation. "So you did."

"So?" Xander asked a few moments later. He knew Giles would have no clue
which question he was asking for the reply to.

"So?" Giles repeated.

"Why didn't they get credit? Do you know who they are, and have you been
to Disneyland? Willow went one year and told me all about it."

"In order, they had nothing to do with the system, yes, I do and no, I
haven't."

"You ever see DuckTales?" It was one of the things he actually liked
about his parents' house. Saturday mornings, no one ever moved before
noon. He'd have the house to himself for junk food and cartoons. 

Giles looked at him. "I'm assuming we're not talking the rear end of the
duck."

Xander grinned. "Cartoon. Um, starring Huey, Dewey and Louie, so still
sequituring."

"I believe the word you're looking for is 'babbling'." Giles smiled
faintly at him.

Xander was trying to decide between amusement and insult, when the library
door was jerked open and someone was shouting. Xander spun and was pressed
back against Giles before he had time to process that he'd recognized the
voice calling out Giles' name.

Giles' hand came to rest on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.
"Please try to remember this *is* a library, Buffy," he said mildly.

"Oops, sorry," she winced as she saw Xander. "I was kinda distracted." 
She gestured to the girl who had walked in with her. 

"Who is this?" Giles asked, his hand still on Xander's shoulder as the
strange girl looked at them with wide eyes.

"Giles, Xander, this is Kendra." Buffy looked to each of them with a
fake-happy smile. "She's a Slayer."

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

It was dark. The moon was half-full, and the clouds were thick and dark. 
There was a cool breeze stirring the leaves, and the scents of freshly
turned dirt and rain were in the air. 

"Now *this* is vamp staking atmosphere!" Xander said, appreciatively. 

"Definitely," Buffy agreed. "All we need are the vamps."

Xander took a look around the cemetery. He was still expecting to see
Giles in the distance, keeping an eye on him. He grinned, wondering if
Giles would run into Spike, off in the bushes. Yeah, like that was what he
needed. "Here, vampies, vampies," he called -- quietly.

"Does that ever work?"

Xander looked at her, surprised. "I got it from you, 'Slayer'."

"I never do that." Buffy looked sideways at him uncertainly. "Do I?"

He nodded. "You do. I'm sure it's a highly refined, secret Slayer
technique which you've practiced for months."

"Nervous tic."

Xander gave her a careful look. "Nervous? What is there for you to be
nervous about? They're just vampires."

"Breaking a nail?" she tried.

Xander grabbed her hand, and looked at it. "Already filed down. Try
again? Love the blue sparkles, by the way."

She grinned. "Thanks. Just call me the slayer trendsetter."

"Slayer Trendsetter," he repeated, dutifully. "Pretty soon all the
Slayers will be wearing short skirts and wearing blue nail polish." He
eyed her slacks. "That was a hint, by the way."

"Uh huh. Hint noted, but not necessarily taken."

"Can't blame a guy for trying. Huh. I wonder if Kendra takes hints."

"I'm not sure she'd even recognize hints. She's still a little overwhelmed
by the whole girl-boy interrelation thing."

"You're kidding. I thought that was just an act. Makes her all the
cuter, so it's working." Xander heard himself starting to babble. He
stifled it, though there was no reason to avoid making Buffy think he
thought Kendra was cute. She was. The only one he had to not let know was
Spike -- and how often did Buffy chat with vampires?

OK, before she staked them?

And the thought of Buffy and Spike actually having a conversation was just
way too problematic to dwell on.

"Nope," Buffy was saying, and he yanked his attention back to the
conversation at hand. "Her watcher apparently kept her sequestered. Can't
let things like boys and fun and having a life interfere with the slayer's
duties after all."

"Oh. Huh." Xander walked for a bit, watching the quiet graves and
thinking.

"We lucked out with Giles." Buffy's voice was soft.

"More ways than one." Xander found it was harder to say than he'd have
thought. Then again, there were a lot of things he couldn't say -- most of
them to Giles. But he thought Giles knew them already. Xander pointed. 
"Vampires."

Buffy smoothly pivoted and punched one running vampire in the face,
staking him an instant later.

Xander leapt to the side, drawing the attention of a second vampire while
Buffy went after the third. Xander ducked a loping swing, then threw a
foot into the vamp's stomach while dropping to his back. As the vampire
sailed overhead, Xander grabbed the stake from his jacket.

"Aw, widdle vamp fall down go--" Xander said as he scrambled around to
drop the stake into the vampire's heart. "Whoosh? What kinda sound effect
is that, anyway?" He looked over to see Buffy, vampless.

"So," Buffy said as they resumed walking. "We need to get Kendra to loosen
up some."

"Co-ed naked twister?"

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

Part Six

Xander was staring at his history textbook, not at all amused at having to
study recent history of Great Britain. Reading about things that had
happened in England a little over a century ago was not helping keep his
mind off last night's phone call.

He was having trouble coming up with reasons not to visit Spike, and last
night had finally agreed he'd come by. He'd done it to avoid an argument,
but ever since he'd been unable to stifle the fear.

"-der?" A hand took the book out of his hand and he blinked upwards
dazedly at Willow. 

"Yes?" He blinked and tried to look attentive.

"I've been talking for the last ten minutes. Where were you?"

"Um...." He tried frantically of something to say. He knew what she'd be
thinking -- off in father-zone-land. But he couldn't tell her what he
*was* thinking about. "Sorry. Romance troubles." 

Why did he ever bother thinking he wasn't going to tell her anything? 

She sat down again beside him. "You mean with the ... who's still in the
..."

"Yes, and yes." He scooted back on the couch, suddenly insanely glad they
were studying at Willow's house. If her mom overheard them, chances were
she wouldn't even understand what she'd heard, much less repeat it to
someone. Like Giles.

Willow turned to face him, pulling her legs up under her. "What kind of
romance problems?"

"Um, of the 'how do I tell him things aren't working out'
without...pissing him off to the point he does something stupid." 
Dangerous. Stupid would be *his* part, of the dating a vampire in the
first place variety. It wasn't that he cared any less, or wanted any less
to *be* with Spike. He just couldn't shake the niggling of fear every time
he spoke with him. Every time he thought about seeing him again.

"Things aren't working out?" She sounded as disappointed about that as he
was.

He sighed. "They are. That's the problem." 

"Umm...?"

He half-grinned. "Doesn't it make perfect sense? In the world of Xander,
I mean." Then he took pity on her. "Things are working out, only I have
to tell him they aren't, because I-- think we should break up."

This wasn't fair, he found himself thinking. He could barely understand
what he felt and what he should do, and now he had to spell it out without
saying anything that would give him away. Talking around something when he
didn't even know what he was saying.... Xander sighed again. 'Welcome to
my life.'

"Is it because of the still in the closet thing?"

"No. Honestly, that isn't really a problem. It isn't like I need to
bring him to school dances or drape myself over him at the Bronze." He had
a sudden flash of Spike at a school dance. No. Bad thought.

Spike in a tux.

Bad, bad, ill-timed thought!

"Then what is it?" He knew that tone of voice. That was her maybe I can
help you figure it out voice.

He wished she could. Only he knew her solution to the real problem -
let's stake the evil vampire so he can't hurt anybody. Finally he said,
"He...isn't someone you'd approve of." He struggled for a way to explain,
not sure he wouldn't just make it worse. "And he's promised not to
do...things. I'm afraid he isn't going to keep his promise, in which case
I'd have to break up with him anyhow, only--" It might be too late.

Willow laid a sympathetic hand on his arm. "Drugs?"

Xander sighed, and figured he might as well let her think that. "The
thing is, I don't wanna stop seeing him. I just don't think.... It isn't
always safe."

She was silent for a long moment. "This conversation is awfully familiar."

He looked at her. "Huh?" He could only remember telling her about Spike
once.

"You not wanting to leave someone you love but who is hurting you." She
gave him a significant look. "Sound familiar?"

Xander wanted to glare at her. Why was everyone saying that? Spike was
*nothing* like his father. Just because Willow -- and Angel, who knew both
Spike and abusive fathers -- had come to that conclusion. It wasn't like
Spike was hurting him. 

He was just afraid Spike might kill him. Turn him, rather, which was more
likely if Spike really *did* care about him. 

Carefully, he said, "He isn't hurting me. He's never hurt me." The bites
on his leg hadn't even broken skin. Everything else, well, it was
*supposed* to hurt the first time, right?

"Then why are you afraid?"

There was the question. The one he'd been trying to find an answer to
which would allow him to keep seeing Spike.

"And from where I'm sitting, he is hurting you. Maybe not leaving bruises,
but in here." She reached out and touched his chest.

"Isn't love always supposed to hurt?" he asked harshly, thinking of
Angel's words. Love her, even when it hurts. He didn't see Angel leaving
Buffy anytime soon. 

"No! It might not always be easy, but it's not supposed to hurt. No
hurting. Hurting is bad."

He let his head fall back, contemplating the safety of a blank white
ceiling. "I don't want to break up with him." What if *that* were what
pissed him off enough to break his promise? Xander shut his eyes. Why
couldn't things be easy?

Why couldn't he be Dick Grayson, instead of Xander Harris, boy...whatever
he was.

He could feel Willow watching him. "You're afraid to break up."

He didn't flinch, but he felt himself freeze, just a tiny bit. Having a
best friend who knew you this well was sometimes a bitch. He glanced over
at Willow, who was looking at him all worried and scared for him, and felt
immediately bad for the thought.

"You never have the easy problems, do you?" she asked.

"Where's the fun in that?" he managed, aiming for lightly. It came out
sounding sarcastic and self-deprecating.

She moved closer and hugged him. "That's our Xander. Always a challenge."
She made it sound like a good thing.

"Heh." He accepted the hug gracefully, knowing it didn't mean he was off
the hook. Only that she didn't think he was hopeless.

Willow pulled back a little, her eyes downcast. "And you're probably going
to get angry with me, but I can't let you stay in a dangerous situation.
Last time I didn't say anything and you kept getting hurt until Giles
stepped in. I'm not going to make that mistake again."

He sat up, fast. "Will, you can't." Except she could. She had every
reason to think she should. There was no way he could convince her
otherwise.... "Please," he begged, anyway. Echoes of conversations years
before made him slightly sick to his stomach.

Eyes overly bright with unshed tears, Willow shook her head. "I can't see
get you hurt again because I kept silent."

"I'm not gonna get hurt," he argued, and still the echoes played. "What
if I agree to break up with him? Will you keep quiet?" It was exactly
what he didn't want to do, except that it was exactly what he thought he
had to do, and wasn't-- didn't-- couldn't.... All he knew was that he
wanted to be safe with Spike.

Which was never going to happen. Vampire. No soul. He'd never be truly
safe.

"You told me last time, he'd stopped."

Nothing like a big white lie to come back and bite him in the butt. He
closed his eyes. "I can't. Not Giles. Please -- I can't have him knowing
how badly I've screwed up."

"Xander..." Her anguish was clear. She didn't want to do this, but he knew
she would if she thought he was in danger.

"You can tell anyone else," he offered, wanting her to know this wasn't
about keeping a secret so he would be hurt. That made him think of a
solution. He turned to her. "Angel. He knows, I mean, sort of, mostly. 
What if I take him with me? Make sure he-- nothing happens? I break up,
don't see him again, and Giles doesn't have to know?"

"You'll take Angel with you?" 

He nodded. Truthfully, he felt better taking Angel -- if anyone could
protect him from Spike, it would be him. Or Buffy, but that led to all
sorts of questions he was supposed to be avoiding.

Willow stared at him for a long moment then nodded. "All right -- but I'll
be checking with him."

"OK. That'll be fine." he glanced towards his history book. "I can go
talk to him now. Not like there's any chance of us getting any more work
done."

"We don't have to study," Willow said quickly. "I mean we can watch TV or
something..." She looked at him hopefully.

It made him smile. He relaxed back against the couch. He could agree to
watch TV...or they could spend an hour trying to decide what to do. 

"Not mad at me?"

"Not mad at you," he said softly. He wasn't convinced he could ever be
mad at Willow for more than a few minutes, and then only if she didn't do
the Sad Face. 

"Good." She retrieved the remote control and settled in beside him.
Handing it to him, she said, "Your choice." He knew it was her way of
apologizing for earlier.

"Oo. I can channel surf at 2 channels a second?" He clicked the TV on,
not surprised when PBS came up.

"At least until I start getting motion sickness."

"At which point I promise to slow down to 4 channels a second." He began
clicking up through the channels.

"My hero."

He gave her a lop-sided grin. "Always, my fair wise-woman-in-training."

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


Xander didn't know whether to pace nervously or to find a spot and sit to
work up the nerve to do this. He'd clenched his hands into balls tightly
enough that they were starting to hurt. He'd asked Angel to wait some
distance away -- not that Spike wouldn't know he was there, but to have
Angel standing right beside them would be like slapping Spike's face. He
didn't want to hurt Spike. He just wanted to call things off.

Safely.

"So where do you want me?"

"Um, out of sight? Not out of earshot, in case--" 

Angel nodded. "I'll stay close."

"Thanks. Um," he turned to Angel, trying to stifle the need to start
babbling. They'd actually talked about this only briefly -- all Xander had
had to say was 'help me tell Spike' and Angel was agreeing to be here.

That didn't completely calm him down, but at least he would be safe -- as
safe as he ever was, at least. Living over the Hellmouth did wondrous
things for your reflexes.

Angel was watching him now, not saying anything. Not accusing, no I told
you so's, nothing like that.

"Thanks." If he could just get out of this, unscathed, he'd be willing to
promise never ever to do anything like it again. He knew better than to
actually *make* such a promise -- Hellmouth again -- but he'd be willing to.

"It'll be okay."

Xander nodded. Kept telling himself that as he left Angel at the edge of
the cemetery and headed to where he'd asked Spike to meet him. He'd told
the others he and Angel were just patrolling -- Willow knew better, but had
said nothing, as promised.

Spike was waiting for him right where they'd arranged, leaning against a
tombstone and staring out into the night. When Spike looked over at him,
Xander felt his heart stutter. Spike knew. He might not know why, but he
knew.

"Um, hi," he fumbled, stopping about five feet away. Trying to keep from
wrapping his arms around himself protectively.

"So," Spike said casually, reaching into a pocket for a pack of
cigarettes. "Can we do this the easy way?"

"Depends on what you mean by easy." 

"I mean, you tell me why you're doing this. I decide whether I think
you're full of it, then we either make-up and go home for some shagging, or
we...don't." He lit the cigarette then tossed the still-burning match onto
the ground.

Xander had been thinking about what he was going to say ever since the
talk with Willow made this confrontation inevitable. He couldn't tell Spike
the truth. Not all of it, anyway. "I can't do this anymore."

Spike didn't react. Then he shrugged. "Figured. First you avoid me,
then when you *do* see me it's not 'come to the warehouse and talk or shag
in private' it's out here, with--" His eyes glanced in the direction
Xander had come from, where Angel would have been waiting. "Didn't reckon
you were planning a surprise party."

"Yeah, well..." He looked down at his feet.

In a mixed tone of anger and disbelief, Spike asked, "You not even gonna
tell me? Just say 'hey, get lost' and that's it?" 

"It's not that easy! Do you think I want to do this?" All his conflicted
feelings came to the surface, causing his voice to crack.

Spike looked at him, something on his face that made Xander want to say
yes, it had been all a joke and he would never really want to stop seeing
him. But Spike's voice was hard when he asked, "Then why do it? Come on,
we can sneak you into Da Barge and mess with their yuppie little minds by
snogging in the corner booth."

"I'm tired of sneaking." Without conscious thought he started pacing.
"Most of my life I've had to sneak, had this secret I couldn't let anyone
know. I'm tired of having secrets. I don't want to have to lie anymore."

"So you ditch me because you can't take me home to see daddy?" Spike
sounded only surprised.

"Because I want to be able to still look Giles in the face."

Spike blinked. Stared at him for a moment. Then he sighed, flicking
ashes away from a cigarette he'd taken barely two puffs from. "Yeah, well.
Guess I can't say I'm surprised."

"I'm sorry." And he was, sorry that Spike was what he was, that he was
what he was.

Spike looked at him again, and Xander was struck by just how hard it was
to read his expression. "Yeah." He seemed to give himself a shake. "Just
as well. Dru's been after me to take her to Spain. Might be a bloke there
who can help her, you know?"

"I hope you find what you're looking for," he said, even if it felt like a
betrayal to the slayerette part of him. 

There was a tiny almost-smile on Spike's lips. "Yeah. Send you a
postcard." 

He could just imagine Giles' face if that came to the apartment. "Send it
to Angel. He'll see that I get it."

Spike sniffed. "Like I want *him* reading my mail." He'd said it in a
carefully raised voice. 

"Better him than someone who can ground me until I'm fifty."

"I don't mind waiting."

His emotions surged at that, both fear and the other one he wasn't looking
at too closely. "Spike-" he began.

"One last kiss before we call it off?" Spike asked breezily, giving him no
time.

"Just a kiss?"

"No nibbling." There was a hint of something, again. Sadness?

He didn't want to think about that. This was hard enough as it was.

Spike dropped his cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot. Then he
stepped forward. Xander swallowed hard and also moved forward. Spike
tilted his head just enough, then leaned in and kissed him. Short, and
light -- their lips had barely pressed together when Spike leaned back
again. 

It was the most chaste kiss Spike and he had ever shared and it brought
Xander perilously close to breaking down. "I gotta go," he said, quickly
backing up.

Spike let him go. 

*****

Part Seven

Xander turned and walked away quickly. Not looking back, because he was
afraid he'd try to un-do or just re-do this whole thing, and he had a
feeling this was as good as he could have asked for. He headed back to
where Angel would be waiting. Maybe they could walk around for awhile,
actually do some patrolling, and give him a chance to convince himself he
didn't want to run back and tell Spike.... Well, there was nothing left
that he could tell Spike.

Then Xander saw who was waiting with Angel. He froze in his tracks. 
Possibly not too late to run back and beg Spike to take him to Spain, too. 
He saw Giles catch sight of him and realized it was too late after all.

If he ran now, they'd probably assume he'd been turned and wouldn't that
be embarrassing when they caught him? Besides, hadn't he sworn to stop
running away from Giles? Despite this entire 'trying to keep it a secret'
thing, which, how the hell did Giles know? He'd have to face him to find
that out.

Or he could run, find Willow, and ask her. The look on Giles' face was
making him think that might be a good option. Except now Giles was walking
over, since Xander hadn't moved since he'd come to a halt.

"Are you all right?" were Giles' first words.

He nodded. He realized it was an utter lie as soon as he did. But he
didn't take it back. 

He watched Giles let out a breath in relief, his expression reflecting
that feeling for a moment before settling back into the blankness it had
been in before. "Come on. We're going home."

In the back of his brain, he let out a whimper. He didn't have to wonder
what Giles knew. How he knew. He knew enough to be extremely,
exceedingly, 'wait until I get you home' pissed off. 

Giles turned to Angel, who was standing by quietly. "Thank you for looking
after him."

Angel nodded, shot Xander what might have been an apologetic look. When
Xander glared, he shrugged. "I didn't promise." 

Xander realized then that he *had* kept quiet about the rest of it, then. 
The parts he had promised never to talk about. It gave him a second of
relief before he glanced at Giles again. 

Even without all the facts coming to light, he was still in trouble.

He tried to remind himself that this was Giles. Not his father -- there
would be no dragging him home for the beating of his life. Or the week. 
This was Giles, who only ever yelled or glared when he was angry, who would
only sigh regretfully and be disappointed in him.

He'd rather be beaten.

Meekly, he followed Giles back to the car parked nearby. Neither said a
word on the drive home. By the time they pulled into the parking lot
Xander was ready to beg Giles to just hit him and forego the rest, let it
be over and done with.

The silence continued until they entered the apartment. "Sit," Giles said,
pointing at the couch.

Xander sat. 

Giles paced for a moment, then stopped and looked at Xander. "How long?"

He knew he wasn't going to help his cause any by telling the truth -- but
lying would be bad. Unless he thought Giles would actually *believe* his
lie, which he doubted. "Almost a year."

"Did he ever hurt you?"

Xander shook his head 'no'.

"But you were afraid he would."

Xander hesitated. Then he nodded, and felt obligated to explain. "Not
until recently. Before, he was--" dangerous, but not to me. Bad things to
say to Giles.

"You liked playing with fire."

Xander looked down. Hearing it that way made him feel suddenly ashamed. 
Like toying with something that could kill him had been the headgame he'd
been after.

But it hadn't been-- had it?

A hand touched his shoulder gently and he looked up into Giles' gaze. "I
don't want to see you get burned."

Frowning, he looked up. "He wouldn't--" He clamped his jaw shut as he
realized Giles was speaking figuratively. Too long on the Hellmouth. "He
wouldn't have hurt me," he found himself saying.

Giles just looked at him.

"He promised he wouldn't." 

"Like your father did?"

Xander snapped, "What *is* it with people thinking he's like my father?" 
Spike was *nothing* like... that is, Spike actually cared.... 

Spike hadn't ever hurt him. 

Giles was still looking at him, calmly. Or just very controlled. "You
tell me. You're talking about fear and danger under the guise of love."

"And you're trying to tell me he doesn't love me. Just because there's
danger."

Giles shook his head. "That isn't what I said. But sometimes love isn't
enough."

He knew what Giles thought he was saying. But he didn't want to hear it. 
Things were confusing enough without Giles' trying to give his 'listen to
me for I am wise' input. Spike was gone. Going to Spain and who knew if
he would ever even come back to California again.

"Xander-"

"I broke up with him, all right Isn't that enough?"

"Is it?"

Xander looked away. "I suppose." He didn't want to argue, there was no
point in fighting about it. "Look, just ground me or whatever and get it
over with."

There was a moment of silence. "I've been where you are, you realize."

Dating a vampire? Xander looked up, confused. No, he didn't know about
that part so-- "What?"

Giles wasn't looking at him. "You know some of this, about the kind of
things I was involved with in my early twenties."

"So? I thought you *were* the boy mothers warned their kids about." It
wasn't like Spike had any reason to be scared of *him*. That thought made
him feel even worse.

"Ethan-" Giles cleared his throat and started again. "That was what Ethan
wanted me to be."

"Huh?" Ethan of the Ethan Rayne 'destroy Sunnydale for a profit'? "You
two weren't just demonic-worshippers? Or was that-- I don't need those
details, do I?"

"The demonic worshipping was a result, not a cause. Ethan was -- still is
-- a pain addict. The demon worshipping came when I wasn't enough. Wasn't
enough." He stared into nothingness and smiled humorlessly. "It was already
far too much. I became Ripper and lost myself."

Watching Giles' eyes change, Xander wondered if this was something he
wanted to know. If it was something he *needed* to know. It was OK for
*him* to get mixed up in things beyond his control and dangerous, but
Giles...was supposed to be above all that. Better than that. Giles' brief
foray into delinquency wasn't supposed to be scarier than Xander's entire
life thus far.

Because Spike hadn't ever *hurt* him.

"There was a time, at the beginning, when I almost walked away. I *did*
walk away, but Ethan came after me and I went back." He met Xander's gaze
for the first time since he started talking about this. "I don't want that
to happen to you."

Suddenly he wanted to laugh. That was what it came to, didn't it? He'd
had to leave Spike before it was too late. But he didn't laugh, didn't
want to hear anymore. Didn't want to think about what it meant that Giles
had gone back. Didn't want to think about any of it.

He needed to just go to his room and listen to country music until his
brain stopped trying to think.

Giles sighed and leaned against the back of the couch, looking drained.
"No grounding."

Xander flinched. He didn't want to know what Giles considered worse
punishment. He wasn't going to offer suggestions, either. 

"I'm going to make some tea. Would you like anything?"

Xander shook his head. His guardian looked at him for a moment, then went
into the kitchen. Xander stayed where he was. Hadn't been dismissed, and
he knew he wasn't out of trouble by a long shot. He wasn't sure why Giles
was taking his time about it -- unless he was trying to figure out *what*
to do with him.

When Giles came back he was carrying two mugs, one of which he handled to
Xander. Startled, Xander accepted it. As he brought it closer, he saw --
hot chocolate. He looked back up at Giles, baffled.

"You looked like you could use something in the way of comfort food.
Cookies would've taken too long."

He looked at the mug. "But--" It was hot chocolate. He looked up again.
"But I thought you were mad at me."

Giles shook his head. "I'm angry at the situation."

Xander hadn't thought that it was possible to be more confused. But he
was. Well, first things first. "Am I in trouble?" he asked, cautiously.

"I think it would be more accurate to say you got yourself out of trouble
tonight. I wish you had been able to confide in me, but-"

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "That's why I broke it off -- because I
couldn't." 

That seemed to take Giles aback. He stared at Xander, his mouth slightly
open.

Xander found himself continuing. "Every time I wanted to see him, I had
to lie to you or someone else about where I was. When he called I had to
pretend it was someone else. When-- he gave me that CD for my birthday. 
That you thought was from my folks? I actually like it, but I can't ever
listen to it when you're around because you'll think I'm.... He gave me
that duster I wear all the time. And every time I wanted to tell you what
I was doing, I couldn't. I couldn't ever bring him home, couldn't even
tell you I was seeing someone. Couldn't ask--" Xander gripped his mug
tighter and told himself to hush.

"Couldn't ask what?"

He should have stopped talking sooner. "About...stuff."

"Stuff."

Great. On top of everything else, he was about to instigate *that* talk,
if he wasn't careful. "Just stuff."

Giles' eyes widened a little. "Ah. Stuff."

Xander uttered his regularly uttered silent prayer of thanks that he
wasn't the blushing type. 

"Is there..um...anything...you needed to know?" Giles was looking
everywhere but at him.

"No, I got it figured out, thanks." At least he'd known enough to find
out beforehand if vampires carried STDs. Additionally, thank god Giles
wasn't tearing his head off for dating a *guy*. Lord only knew what his
own father would have said to that....

"Well, if you ever have any questions..."

He laughed, once, fear and confused vanishing for the moment. "Yeah, I
can see you're just *hoping* you get to have *that* talk."

Giles blushed. "I just..uh...want you to have the..um..proper facts."

Xander heard himself saying any number of things that he would have to
shoot himself afterwards for -- all involving Giles, and the proper facts. 
Surely this night was not going to be so bad that he admitted to lusting
after his guardian *to* his guardian.

He drank some of his cocoa. Full mouth gathers no foot.

"Right. Um. Shall we watch some TV?"

"I think I'd rather just go to bed." Crawling under blankets, headphones,
and several hours of darkness before he had to emerge again. 

"All right." Giles looked like he wanted to add something else but he
didn't.

Xander paused, wondering if it was something he should chase after. On
the other hand, he could count his blessings and head for cover. "Giles?"

"Yes?"

Maybe he'd just count them. "Thanks."

Giles nodded and smiled faintly. "You're welcome."

*****

Part Eight

Xander crawled out of his bed early. He always woke up before five when
he went to bed before eight -- a little trick he used to his advantage when
he had to be awake that early. He crept down the hall silently, not
wanting to wake Giles. 

Last night had been...rough. But it could've been a lot worse. He was
simply glad that, for now, it was over. He had no doubt there would be
repercussions -- but for the moment he could tell himself that everything
was going to be OK.

Wanting to show his gratitude, Xander headed for the kitchen. Every other
time he'd made breakfast, he'd chickened out on making the waffles. But he
was determined he was going to go through with it this time. The fact that
he still couldn't remember what ingredient Willow had had to remind him to
include didn't daunt him. Surely once he got everything assembled, he'd be
able to tell.

Fifteen minutes later, he had a bowl full of batter and still couldn't
remember. He dipped his finger into the bowl, and concluded that was not a
good testing method. Was waffle batter *supposed* to taste that little
like waffles?

He considered the batter, debated tossing it all out and going for cereal.
But he'd already made the it. Might as well try one.

He poured the batter and closed the iron. After checking to make sure the
little light was on, he busied himself getting the table set. When the
light went off, he opened the iron...and stared. It was in pieces. And
rather flat pieces at that. He poked at one of the pieces and watched
it...act nothing like a waffle. "Damn it."

He heard someone walking towards the kitchen. Great, Giles showing up just
at the most spectacular moment of his failure. At least there was no need
for a fire extinguisher. He closed the lid to the iron, though, before
looking up.

"What's this?" Giles asked, with a faint smile.

"Garbage," he muttered. He picked up the trash can, and re-opened the
iron to dump out the pieces.

"Ah." Moving over to the counter, Giles checked the batter. "What
ingredients did you use?"

Xander pointed to everything still sitting on the counter. The
waffle-like-object fell easily into the trash. He set the iron down, and
wondered if he should dump the batter in the trash can, or down the sink.

"How many eggs did you put in?"

He stopped. "Eggs?" Damn. *Now* he remembered Willow saying 'eggs'.

"We can still salvage it then. Can you get two eggs from the fridge?"

"We can?" Xander asked, even as he went to the fridge. 

Giles nodded. "Just mix those in."

"Oh." Xander went to break them, and glanced over. "You'd think a guy
could leave a recipe lying around somewhere." He felt a little unsure that
teasing Giles this morning was such a brilliant idea -- but he'd never
really been known for being consistently brilliant.

"I think I have one in a cookbook somewhere." He leaned back against the
counter and watched Xander fix the batter. "I could always write it out for
you, if you'd like."

"Or I could just stay in bed and let you cook breakfast." 

"That does have a distinct air of familiarity about it."

Xander poured a waffle, closed the iron, then carefully gave Giles a
piteous look. "I made breakfast once." Or maybe that had been the hint --
he did his chores as asked, but maybe he was supposed to be doing more? 
Goodness knew it couldn't be an easy job, raising him.

"I remember." Giles gave him a fond smile. 

The fond look stopped him for a moment. He had to stare at the waffle
iron, watching the little red light glow. "I'm sorry if this
isn't...exactly what you'd been hoping for. Um, not that you ever said you
wanted a kid -- but, I--" He lifted the iron, peeking at the waffle. It
started to pull apart down the middle so he closed the lid again.

"Xander." Giles hand closed on his arm, urging him to turn and face his
guardian. "I have never regretted having you here, quite the contrary
actually. I thank whatever gods there are every day that you are in my
life. Don't ever apologize for that."

Knowing it wasn't true, he asked anyhow, "You aren't just saying that
because it means I'm not with my folks?" He was almost smiling, though, as
he said it. He stepped forward and hugged Giles, before he could answer.

"I'm not just saying it," Giles reiterated, wrapping his arms around him
tightly. 

Xander settled himself happily into the embrace, telling himself that a
well-cooked waffle was a good waffle. He had no idea how long ago the red
light had gone out, and he didn't care.

"Whatever happens, I'm going to be here for you, you know that, don't you?"

Xander just shivered. 

"You *do* know that, don't you?"

"Yes," he said in a small voice. He knew -- at least he didn't doubt it. 
But he hadn't thought that *hearing* it would hit him so hard.

"Good."

He sniffed. The waffle was getting a little *too* well-done. But he
didn't want to-- He grinned, and reached out with one hand to open the
iron, while otherwise staying right where he was.

"Avoiding the need for a fire extinguisher," Giles commented with a smile
of his own.

"I gotta do *something* right."

"You do a lot right, Xander."

"But not, it seems, when it comes to cooking." He held up the waffle on a
fork. The middle was dark brown. Very, very dark brown.

"I distracted you." Giles handed him the bowl of batter. "Try it one more
time."

"That's about all we have batter for." He moved to scrap it into the
iron, then stopped, deciding to hell with it. He gave Giles his best
Willow-trained puppy look. "Unless someone makes more?"

"And by 'someone' you would mean me."

He turned up the wattage, slightly, on the puppy-face. Gave it the
ever-so-subtle 'but you *love* me' tone.

Giles sighed and turned to the counter to start making some more.

"Thanks, dad," Xander said, and poured the rest of the first batch into
the iron.

There was a very slight pause. "You're welcome."

Xander waited a moment before asking casually, "Can you put chocolate
syrup in waffle batter?"

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

Xander found himself in a good mood when they reached school. Giles left
him to go find his friends, with one last and probably fruitless
admonishment against eating any more sugar until eleven o'clock. Xander had
promised, though, and headed towards the courtyard. He caught sight of
Willow and headed over. He still had to scold at her for telling on him.

She saw him coming and waited, her eyes downcast. Any actual anger he
would have had, would have died an instant death at the sight -- which made
Xander consider stringing her along for a while. Instead he went up to her
and ducked his head down so he could see her face, and smiled.

"Um, hi?" Willow said uncertainly.

"I'm not mad," he said. "Not really; I know you meant well--"

"I didn't tell him. I didn't." She sighed. "But you know how lousy a liar
I am. He asked if I knew if something was wrong with you and..."

"Said 'yes'." He could just see it. Willow would have stood firm for
almost half a minute, before crumbling to eggless waffle pieces.

"Well, not exactly. I didn't say 'no', though."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I did, sorta, but even I didn't believe me." She gave him an
apologetic look.

"I'm not mad," he repeated. "I know you...thought it was best."

"I wouldn't have told him on purpose. Not after I promised. I didn't,
really. But I might have said Angel knew."

"I know. It...it wasn't so bad that he knew. Afterwards." 

She looked up for the first time. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah." Then he sat down, and set about distracting them both
from the slings and arrows of his love life. 'Arrows' being a metaphor,
and not...Xander wrenched his thoughts back to 'distracting'. "So. Tell
me all about the happy state of your love life. Or Buffy's -- I missed our
last late-night gossip-a-thon."

"You haven't heard?"

"Heard what? Dingoes got a contract and you're going to be a professional
roadie?"

"Buffy and Angel. They broke up!"

He blinked. "They what?" He'd actually done it?

"I was on the phone with Buffy most of last night. Angel told her they
couldn't go any further."

Xander blinked. "By 'further' you mean, not dating, or not *further*?" 
If this had happened last night, why hadn't Angel said anything? Besides
the obvious reasons that Xander hadn't been listening, too wrapped up in
his own break-up.

"Still be friends but not going to um do anything, no further."

"And by 'um' anything, you mean-- oh." He took pity on Willow and didn't
spell it out. Even if it was fun to see her blush. "Did Buffy say why?"

"Just that Angel said he wasn't ready. Which was followed by a long rant
about how if he's not ready after 250 years...well, she wasn't very
complimentary."

"Huh." Xander frowned. He wondered what Angel had really said, to be
changed into this after two translators. Or if he'd gone the "lie through
my fangs" route to avoid hurting Buffy.

Like he'd done. Except he'd hurt Spike, anyhow.

"So mentioning Angel in Buffy's presence today is probably a big no-no,"
Willow continued.

"Got it. Thanks for the warning." He sat there, then, for a few minutes
trying to think of something else to chat about. Something other than,
'so, you breaking up with your boyfriend, too?' "Guess it was just a good
night for it," he said, bitterly.

"Considering she doesn't know you even *had* a boyfriend..." Willow
glanced at him. "She doesn't know, does she?"

He frowned. "I don't think so. I don't think Angel would have mentioned
it causally while he was--" He smiled, sort of sickly. "Hi, Buffy."

She frowned. "Mentioned what? And don't talk to me about him. Mentioned
what?"

"Um, about the thing you don't want us to talk about," Willow quickly put
in.

Buffy gave them both a suspicious look. Xander found himself almost
caving, then told himself sternly he could resist. On the other hand,
would he rather commiserate with someone who was happily still Ozed, or
with someone who had just broken up with a vampire, too?

His ex's sire. How family was that?

"You talked to him about that? Not that I want to hear it." Buffy still
looked more mad than anything.

"I didn't, actually," Xander explained. "That's what I was saying. That
he didn't mention it." Was that what he had been saying? He wasn't sure
anymore. But it sounded good.

"Oh." Buffy suddenly looked subdued. Xander reflected that she looked
rather like he felt. Except that she ought to be looking like *Spike* felt
and-- yes, that made him feel even better. Xander reached out and took her
hand. 

She glanced at him questioningly.

"I wish I could say it'll get better, but I've never done this before,
myself."

"That's the traditional opening," she told him, smiling faintly.

"I thought the traditional opening was 'Dear John'." Xander tried to
smile back.

"Only if you're the one doing the breaking up." A pause. "And only if
you're breaking up with someone named John."

"No, actually, the tradition is that when you write to your boyfriend
who's a soldier, you address him as 'John'--" Willow stopped and looked at
them both, apologetically. "Not important now, moving on."

"Thanks, wise-woman," Xander couldn't help smiling at her. 

"Fount of useless information, that's me."

"It isn't useless. If either of our boyfriends had been soldiers, it
would have been very useful."

"Yeah." Buffy blinked, then stared at him. "Either of our boyfriends?"

Xander blinked back. "Um. You didn't get the memo?"

"Apparently not."

He ditched levity and simply said, "I was...dating one, too. Um, a
boyfriend. Broke up last night."

She was staring at him. "You're..."

"Exed." He knew she was gaping at him for the 'boy' part. But at least
she wasn't thinking about Angel for the moment. 

"Exed from a..."

"Guy." Technically, of course, Spike wasn't a boy. Hadn't been for over
a hundred years. 'Not the part to share,' he reminded himself. 

"Um, that's good. I mean the breaking up part is bad, but the guy part..."

"Yeah, that part was good." He looked away. It had been good. He
wondered if Spike and Dru would have left, yet. Then he stomped down on
the wondering -- no good would come of wondering such things.

"Does Giles know?"

"He found out yesterday." He tried not to glance at Willow.

"And he's okay with you being...?"

Xander nodded. "He's a little annoyed with the rest of it, but he's OK
with that part." Xander thought back. "I think. He might have just been
more upset with everything else." No, because Giles had said -- more or
less implied at hinting, rather -- that he'd slept with Ethan. That rather
assumed a certain acceptance of the whole guy-guy thing, didn't it?

Buffy was looking at him, confused again.

"Maybe we should do something tonight," Willow put in.

"Ice cream and foreign movies?" Xander looked from Willow to Buffy. "An
evening of the scorned - plus chaperone, unless we ask Oz to scorn Willow
for the night, so she can fake it."

"The Dingoes have a gig so I'm technically scorned."

"Excellent!" Xander clapped his hands together. "Scorned by our men,
though technically *I* did the scorning-- doesn't matter. We can drown our
sorrows in ice cream and chocolate syrup and whipped cream and--" He
looked at Willow's wide eyes.

"I see your appetite hasn't suffered any," Buffy said almost cheerfully.

"He always eats when he gets depressed." Willow was giving him a "I didn't
know you were *this* depressed" look.

Xander shrugged, trying to maintain his grin. But he was thinking again
about the look on Spike's face right before they'd kissed. He looked down
at his hands. "It hurts."

Willow moved closer and hugged him. "I'm sorry."

He let her hold him for a moment before moving away. Buffy was giving him
a sympathetic look of understanding. "So, chocolate?" he asked.

"I can do chocolate," Buffy replied. "With extra whipped cream tonight."

"And chocolate sprinkles," Xander added. "I'll stop by the store after
school. Stock-up. I only hope I don't scare Giles." 

"Horrify him, maybe." Buffy was smiling slightly now.

"Maybe we should do this at Willow's place?"

"We can if you want."

"What Giles doesn't know won't horrify him," Xander managed a weak-smile.

"Good plan."

"After patrol, then?" Xander asked, trying to get back into faking cheer.

Buffy nodded. "It's a date. So to speak."

"Yeah." Xander stood, Willow getting up as well, and together they headed
for class. 
******

Part Nine

A week and a half later, Xander was standing at his locker, trying to think of ways to get an advance on his allowance. It wasn't that he didn't have anything saved up -- he had rather a bit saved up. But he hated getting into it, especially for something like a middle-of-the-week, sneaking-out-of-school-for-lunch extravaganza. 

However, since simply asking for an advance would involve telling Giles what he wanted it for, he was left either asking to borrow money from Willow -- which he hated doing, since her allowance was less than his, or borrowing from Cordelia. All that would entail would be inviting Cordelia to the Great White Sneak-Out....

Which would be OK, if it weren't for the chance she'd tell someone, who would tell someone, and before anyone knew it, their lunch hour away from home would become Junior Skip Day. No, it was probably best if he gritted his teeth and dug into his savings. It was only lunch after all. How expensive could it be?

Three hours later Xander snuck down the hallway on his way to class, trying not to think about just how expensive it had been. However, they'd timed their return well -- Devon had way too much experience at that, according to Oz. They'd arrived between classes so no one had noticed them sneaking back in. Xander kept trying to act calm and sedate, as if he hadn't just spent two and a half hours eating pizza, guzzling cokes, and playing video games.
"Did you have a good lunch?" A familiar voice came from behind him. 

He froze. Closed his eyes long enough to whisper a prayer for benighted teenagers afflicted with parental types who noticed where you were. Or weren't. 

He turned to face Giles with a sheepish grin. Giles was looking at him with a faint smile. "Um, maybe?" It occurred to him that maybe Giles didn't know, and he was just asking. It could be, right? To stop him in between classes like he'd never done before, to ask how was lunch?
"Did you break your high score on Mortal Kombat?" 
He sighed, and hung his head. Then he looked Giles in the eye. "No. The game was out of order." 
"Pity." 

Slightly confused, but growing more sure that this *was* just a friendly encounter with his local neighborhood guardian, Xander started walking towards class again, with Giles moving alongside. "So, I'm not detecting any fire or brimstone?"
"No brimstone. As long as this doesn't become a habit." 
"How many times can you do something before it becomes a habit?" 
"In this case, once is enough." 

Xander sighed. "How come *you* got to play hooky a dozen times, and I only get once?" 
"How did you-?" Giles broke off with a sigh. "My mother." 

Grinning gleefully, Xander said, "You're going to regret ever giving me her phone number. Grandmum says you even played hooky all day, once, went all the way to some beach--?"
"I see I'm going to have to call and have a talk with her." 

"You think she'll stop telling me stories?" Xander asked, dubiously. He stopped right outside his classroom. 
Giles made a show of considering. "Probably not, but I could get lucky." 

"You just keep telling yourself that, Poppers," he grinned, then ducked into the classroom before Giles could catch him. He'd been after Giles' mother for weeks, now, asking for embarrassing childhood nicknames. He wasn't exactly sure what this one meant, something about Christmas crackers Giles had stolen from the dinner table.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw Giles open his mouth to say something, then close it again, shake his head, then walk off, muttering. Xander giggled, and headed for his desk -- wondering much too late if he had brought the correct textbook.


"Oh, man, what time is it?" Xander looked for his watch, found it on upside-down. Michael had done that, when he'd wanted to see Xander's watch and couldn't, from his angle. He'd calmly taken it off Xander's wrist and put it back on the other way, then read the time. Now Xander had to hold his arm upside-down and try to read Tweety's hands.

It was a lot harder than it should have been. He didn't remember the numbers on his watch being quite this small either. And the second hand kept distracting him.

"Hey, Dev, you got a watch that doesn't keep moving?" He gave up, turned to his right where Devon was sprawled on the couch. They were at Devon's place, having a much better time doing nothing than they were supposed to be having in school.
"There's a clock radio over there." Dev gestured vaguely. 

Xander peered over, and focused. The numbers were, as promised, not moving. He crawled over and stared at it for awhile. "Hey," he said, shaking the boot of whoever was behind him.
"Whayawan?" 

"Isn't it four thirty?" He picked up the clock and showed it to the others. 

There was a good deal of blinking at the clock before there was a general agreement. 
"So?" Devon asked. "Oh - isn't Space Ghost on at four thirty?" 

"No," Xander shook his head and got to his feet. "Four thirty is 'late late late for getting back to school so no one notices you were absent all afternoon'." 
"School?" Dev asked dimly. 

"Yeah. That place we left right before lunch?" Xander stood up and looked around for his backpack. Giles was going to yell at him. 

He'd managed to either not get caught, or not get Giles annoyed, the last couple of times he'd skipped. Granted, once was only a single class -- hanging out in the storeroom for forty-five minutes wasn't like actual hooky. The other time they'd been gone all morning, but Giles had been busy with some public school teacher employee meeting or something -- Xander had been back before Giles had.

This time he had meant to be back for last class. Or at least by the time school was out. But Dev had pulled out a joint and... Somehow it become four thirty without him realizing it.

He found his backpack, and sighed. He wondered if he should call the school, or home, or just head out. They were supposed to be meeting in the library after school, but these non-emergency, contingency research things often ended by five.

Oh, hell. Maybe he'd get lucky and he'd be able to talk his way out somehow. Use his temporary phobia of the library as an excuse maybe. But first, he had find the front door.

He found the phone, instead, and called the school library. When no one answered, he realized he'd have to head for home. He said his goodbyes, and headed out -- grateful it was still daylight, and that he hadn't had to call for a ride home. Besides, the walk home would clear his head. 
Giles was waiting for him when he got home. 
"Um, hey." Xander set his backpack down, trying to gauge Giles' mood. 
"Where have you been?" Giles voice was sharp, his accent more clipped than usual. 
"Devon's." 
"You cut class again." 

Xander swallowed. "Yeah." It wasn't like there was any point in denying it. 
Giles' nose wrinkled. "You smell like-" 

He almost said 'sage'. But Giles would probably know the difference. Even if they *did* smell a lot alike, and he wasn't feeling stoned any 
more, anyhow. He said nothing.
"You're grounded." 

Xander nodded. Wasn't like he was surprised. But-- "Does that include patrolling? I'm supposed to give Buffy a night off tomorrow."

"Yes. I'll take your place." Giles turned away, heading for the kitchen, then paused. "And you are not to see Devon again." 
"What?!" What did hanging with Devon have to do with anything? 
"You heard me. It's obvious that he's a bad influence." 

"He's a bad influence?" Xander laughed. For a year he'd been sleeping with -- and more -- a vampire with no soul, and Giles thought *Devon* was a bad influence. His laughter died quickly when he saw Giles staring at him. "Fine. No hanging with Devon." The guy wasn't a good friend, anyway. Mostly he'd just been a guy with wheels.
Giles seemed satisfied with that. "I'll start dinner." 
Xander looked up, interested. "Dinner?" 
"Ah, yes. I'd forgotten about the munchies." 

"The who?" Xander followed Giles into the kitchen. Hey, maybe they had some of those chocolate graham crackers. 
"The-" Giles stopped and shook his head. "Never mind." 

Xander snacked his way through dinner, and clean-up, and through staring at his homework and not actually doing any of it. At one point Giles had threatened to cut him off from the kitchen, but by that time Xander was starting to grow more interested in bed.

He was feeling a little dizzy, and had endured dry British witticisms when he mentioned it. With a muttered good night, he headed to bed an hour before the usual time. 

He crawled into bed a bit gratefully, feeling exhaustion hit as soon as his head got near the pillow. Darkness stole over everything, and for a long while, nothing moved.

It surprised him when he woke. He hadn't noticed falling asleep; though now, lying in his bedroom at half past one, shaken awake by a nightmare he didn't want to think more about, he knew he must have -- and didn't want to, again. His first instinct was to get up and go to Giles' room. But he stopped before he had even got the covers thrown back all the way.
Giles was angry at him. 

It wasn't a huge mad, even though Xander knew he deserved more mad than Giles had expressed. Two weeks of being grounded and no real lectures -- but Xander had known, from the look in Giles' eyes all evening, that he was still angry.

He curled up in the blankets once more. He'd be wide awake all night if he didn't go to Giles, and he doubted somehow that Giles would let him skip school tomorrow to make up for the lost sleep. He lay there and stared into the darkness for what felt like about ten years only to glance at his clock and see only 5 minutes have gone by.

If he tried to lay awake all night, he was going to go insane. He pulled the blankets back again and carefully got out of bed. Maybe, even if Giles was too mad, he'd at least say something or give him a hug before sending him back to his room.

Even so, it took several minutes' silent urging to get himself to the door of his bedroom, and more even still to get himself across the hall. He pressed his hand to the door, not yet knocking. Leaning against the wall, he wondered why he managed to mess up just when things were becoming...bearable, again.

Finally, he just knocked softly. There was a brief silence, then Giles opened the door. 

Feeling self-conscious, Xander said, "I know you're still mad at me, but I--" His courage left him in one fell swallow, and he managed, "I'm sorry I woke you."

Giles didn't say anything, just opened his arms. Xander hesitated before stepping forward. When he did, he found it difficult to relax, even though the embrace was as warm and comforting as it had ever been. "You thought I would turn you away?" 

"You're usually not angry with me." It was weird, but standing there in the dark, Xander couldn't quite remember why he'd wanted so much to skip school all day.

There was a long pause, then Giles said softly, but with determination, "Xander, the one has nothing to do with the other." 
He tried to figure that out. After a minute he just shook his head. "But you're mad at me." 
"And you think that means I won't be there for you?" 

He thought the answer to that was obvious. Whenever someone was mad at him, they either wanted him to avoid them, or they wanted him around to torment until they got over it. Maybe Giles wasn't really mad at him? He thought back to the previous evening.
No, Giles was definitely mad. 

Giles sighed and his embrace tightened. "Of course you do," he muttered half to himself. "It's never been otherwise for you." Gently, he tugged Xander further into the room. "Come here."

Bewildered, Xander went. Maybe Giles was over being angry already. He certainly didn't look mad, and he was acting like all Xander deserved was comforting, not grounding.

He was directed to sit on the bed. Giles knelt in front of him, his expression serious. "I will always be here when you need me, it doesn't matter if I'm angry or not. There is nothing you can do that would make me angry enough to turn you away."

Xander tried to listen, but he was suddenly distracted by the image before him. He held himself tightly still, against the perverse chance that he would actually reach out and touch. He couldn't not stare, though. 

He blinked when he realized Giles was still talking, and he had no idea what he'd said. 
"-understand?" Giles met his gaze expectantly. 

He shook his head. Even if he'd heard it, chances were he wouldn't have believed it. 

Giles sighed again. "All right. Bottom line: you need me, I'll be here. Angry or not." 

Xander swallowed and looked away. He felt bad, making Giles do this. Making him say this. "I'm sorry." 

A hand gently turned his face back. "I'll accept your apology if it's for cutting class and getting stoned. If you're apologizing for being uncertain of your welcome, there's no need."

Xander nodded glumly. "I was...about the cutting school." He had meant the rest as well, but mostly, right now, he was sorry he'd made Giles mad at him -- if he hadn't, he'd already be tucked in Giles' embrace, sound asleep right now. 
"Apology accepted then." Giles stood up. "But you're still grounded." 

"I figured." He hadn't actually been thinking of weaseling his way out of that. "I probably have enough homework to get caught up on I won't even notice I can't leave." Then he wondered if Giles had mentioned knowing how often he'd skipped, recently.
"I wouldn't mind having more A's to celebrate," Giles observed. 
Xander smiled, weakly. He was getting tired, again, finally relaxing. He yawned suddenly, his entire body being drawn into the yawn. 

Giles smiled faintly, affectionately at him. "You think you'll be able to sleep now?" 

"I'd like to see anyone stop me," he mumbled. He got to his feet and headed for the door. Nightmares aside, he felt a bit uncomfortable staying. The way Giles was looking at him, love in his eyes -- the image of him kneeling there.
"You don't have to leave." 

"I...I know. But I'm OK now." And he found that he was. Better enough to go back to bed and sleep with other dreams he didn't want, but still oh so more preferred.... "Thanks, though."
Giles nodded, but there was something very much like disappointment in his eyes. "If you're sure..." 

Xander nodded, determinedly. But he stepped forward for one more hug, pleased when Giles seemed to appreciate it as much as he did.

"I'll be here if you need me," Giles told him one more time as he let him go. 

"I know--" He stopped, and ran the automatic response back through his head. "Most of the time I know it. The rest of the time you gotta remind me."
Giles gave him another slow nod. "I can do that." 

That made him smile -- a wide, genuine smile. And stifle a sudden urge to kiss the other man. He

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

Part Ten

He had no idea why he'd come here. Spike and Dru's warehouse. They'd
have been gone for almost a month, now, if they'd really left the same
night Spike had said they would. The warehouse was empty, no other
denizens of the blood-sucking set had taken the place over. Xander was
glad; even if he had no idea why he was here, he was glad he could be.

He'd been trying to behave since the 'coming home from cutting school
stoned' fiasco, did his time on grounding without complaint, got caught up
in his homework. But he was still...restless.

Hence this, his first day of freedom. Coming to pay homage, or something,
he figured. Confirm that yes, Spike was in fact gone. Nevermind his phone
still worked. Xander had let it ring a dozen times when he'd called.

He picked his way through some of the mess the two vampires had never
bothered to clean up when they'd moved in. Xander headed for the area
Spike had claimed for his own, and looked around. Everything was gone.

Almost. Laying on the table near the now stripped bed was a crumpled pack
of cigarettes. Xander flopped down onto the bed. It smelled dusty now,
smelled like the rest of the warehouse. He idly picked up the pack of
cigarettes and found it was still half-full. Odd, that Spike would have
left them.

He spotted a book of matches, and decided to indulge in a bit of
curiosity. He'd smelled second-hand smoke for years, and had never
understood why anyone would want that smell in their lungs. Images of
Spike assaulted him as he lit the cigarette. He inhaled-

And began coughing so hard he wouldn't have been surprised to see his
lungs appear on the mattress.

OK, curiosity satisfied; he shook his head as he held the cigarette out
over the floor while he struggled to stop coughing. He still had no clue
why anyone would do this. He looked at the burning 'fag', as Spike called
it, and he could hear his lover's voice in his ear. "Bloody hell, Xan,
what are you trying to do? Give yourself a heart attack?'

No heart attack, just making a passable attempt at suffocating himself, he
told the voice.

The voice continued, more helpfully this time. "Don't inhale, then. Just
suck the smoke into your mouth, then blow it out. Makes you look cool --
since you aren't yakking up internal organs."

Keeping the internal organs inside was a definite key point to looking
cool, he agreed. Cautiously, he put the cigarette to his lips again, being
careful to not inhale deeply this time.

It still tasted totally unlike anything he really wanted in his mouth, but
there was no coughing. Xander grinned. Score one for the phantom voice in
his head. He tried it again, and was about to call it quits as an
experiment gone well, when he realized what it *did* taste like.

Once, when Xander had stopped in and surprised Spike during the day, he'd
grabbed his lover and given him a long, hard kiss. Spike had tasted of
smoke. He pulled on the cigarette again, almost desperately, reaching for
the memory, for how it had felt.

It had been an uncomplicated day. Xander had teased Spike about something
stupid, and Spike had responded by flipping him onto the bed and crawling
on top of him. Xander had laughed, and Spike had growled playfully --
Drusilla had been watching them, a smile on her face as she spoke quietly
to something she held in her hands.

Xander had then leaned up and caught Spike's mouth in a kiss, the taste of
smoke exploding over his tongue. He'd pulled back and made a joke about
kissing an ashtray before Spike had growled again and kissed him back.

The rest of the next hour had blurred into what Xander now found himself
aching to recall. Spike had been on him, fast and hard and continually
teasing him by kissing him harder, 'sharing the joy of smoking'. Xander
closed his eyes, and could almost feel him, the press of his body, and the
scent of his coat, the feel of his tongue. He finished the cigarette
without even noticing and automatically reached for another.

He stayed there only another half hour, slowly smoking his way through the
second fag and remembering all the silly things he and Spike had ever said
to each other. Then he got up, slipped the pack of cigarettes into his
pocket, and left. Spike wasn't here anymore -- but neither was he totally
gone.

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

Giles was on the couch reading something when he got home. "Have a good
afternoon?"

"Yeah, mostly." Xander took off his jacket and slung it over the back of
a chair. He'd been fighting becoming totally depressed, and just enjoying
thinking about things. He still hadn't decided, and was hoping that coming
home would distract him from either. "When's dinner?"

"I thought we could go out and grab a bite. To mark the end of your
'imprisonment'." Giles smiled faintly.

Xander grinned. "Yeah! Sparkys?" Then he frowned. "I never called it
that when you were within earshot." He gave Giles an exaggerated
suspicious look.

The faint smile blossomed into a full grin. "The watcher sees all and
knows all."

"Have I mentioned how not fair that is? I mean, unless it's working to my
advantage." He headed towards the bathroom, asking as he went, "How soon
can we go eat?"

"As soon as you can get ready."

"Cool!" Xander hurried to the bathroom. He gave his shirt sleeve a
sniff, and decided that warehouse dust was no scent bad enough to require
changing before dinner. He came back out, heading for the living room --
and stopped.

Giles was standing there with Xander's coat in one hand -- and the pack of
cigarettes in the other. Xander glared, starting to get pissed that Giles
had gone through his coat. The look on Giles' face made him keep quiet.

"I was moving your jacket and they fell out of the pocket. Would you like
to explain?"

Xander shrugged. "I stopped by...Will's place. He was gone. They were
the only thing he'd left. That and an empty pizza box."

Giles expression softened a little. "Will being your..."

"Ex." Funny, how it hurt to call him that. Like he was no more.

"Leaving aside your going over there for the moment, you picked these up
as a souvenir?"

Xander walked over and reached out for the pack. Giles let him take it. 
"Sometimes when we kissed, he tasted like smoke."

"Ah." The look Giles gave him was full of compassion. "Just as long as
you're not taking up the habit yourself."

Xander smirked. "I like my lungs where they are, thanks." Just to let
him know that yes, he'd tried one and let him think that no, he wasn't
taking up smoking. He had no intention of doing so, anyway. 

"All right, then."

Xander took his jacket back, and slipped the pack back in the pocket. 
Then he took his jacket to his room, tossing it across the bed. He came
back out, asking, "Dinner?"

"We have to talk about you going over there, first."

"Huh?" 

Giles looked serious and forbidding. "Why did you go there?"

"He said he was leaving town. I wanted to... I don't know. See if he
really did, I guess." 

"And what if he'd been there?"

"Oh." Yeah, no wonder Giles was glaring at him. 

"You didn't think about that, did you? Or were you hoping he would be
there?"

He hadn't thought about it. But he knew Spike wouldn't have been there. 
He wasn't going to say it was because he'd called -- but somehow, he'd
known. Spike really had gone. "Can we go to dinner before you ground me
again?" he asked quietly.

"Xander..." Giles sighed. "I don't want to ground you-"

"You got any other methods for teaching me not to do stupid stuff?"

"Other than long, boring lectures, you mean?"

"Oo, I bet one of those would work." He suspected he'd sounded a bit too
enthusiastic, when Giles just looked at him. "How about you look at me
sternly and tell me never to do it again?"

"How about you help me at the library next Saturday?"

"Yeah, I guess if I'm there, I can't be someplace else doing anything
stupid." He tried to look suitably put-upon. Truth was, he was getting
more at ease with being in the library, and the thought of spending the day
with Giles sounded wonderful.

"All right then. So...dinner?"

"Sparkys?" he asked, tentatively.

Giles smiled. "Sparkys."

"Just don't order the corned beef again, okay?"

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

"OOF!" Xander blinked, trying to catch his breath in time to be coherent
enough to defend himself again. He managed to raise his arms in time to
see a worried face peering down at him. Xander relaxed, and stayed lying
on his back.

"You okay?" Buffy asked, offering him a hand up.

"Oh, sure! Why wouldn't I be?" He got to his feet, then looked around the
mats. "Have you see my head anywhere?"

She looked a little embarrassed. "Sorry. Guess I should've pulled that
last kick a bit more."

"Hey, it's fine. I'm good." He caught Giles looking at him, faint worry
on his face. Xander groaned loudly. "But I may not be able to carry large
stacks of books for a few days."

"Nice try," Giles said, "but you're still helping in the library."

Xander pouted, but grinned as Willow laughed. Shaking off the last of the
effects of having his breath knocked out of him sideways, he went over to
his best friend. Smiled. Put his arm across her shoulders companionably.

Willow gave him a suspicious look. 

"Willow!" he said in a bright cheery voice. "You love libraries."

"Xander." Giles waited until he looked over. "No passing the buck."

"I wasn't passing the buck! I was just thinking, company would be nice." 
He gave Giles a hurt look, then quickly gave Willow another cheerful smile.


"I'm meeting Oz for lunch. Sorry."

"You don't know what you'll be missing. Fun with the alphabet, aerobic
exercise going up and down the steps to the stacks..." When she just shook
her head, he looked over. "Buffy!"

"Oh no. I have major day of shopping planned. And I'm going before my
Watcher finds something else for me to do."

Xander sighed. "Fine. Leave me alone with the old man." 

Buffy grinned. "OK!" She grabbed her bag, and headed for the doors. 
Willow grinned, gave Xander a wave, and followed.

Leaving him alone with Giles who was standing and watching him, arms
crossed over his chest. "Old man?" he asked mildly.

Xander grinned as sheepishly as he could. "Gosh, look at all these cards
that have to be filed away. I'd better--" He headed over towards the card
catalogue.

"And 'company will be nice.' I'm not company?"

"No, you're the warden. You have to stand around and glare at me, to make
sure I'm doing this right." He frowned at the first card he'd picked up,
turned it upside-down, then back again. "This one isn't in English. 
Unless this is *your* hand-writing...."

"Very funny." He walked over and glanced over Xander's shoulder at the
card. "Malwalthian demon."

"We're adding these to the card catalogue?" Xander looked at him in
disbelief. He tried to read the card again, and still couldn't tell if it
was upside-down. Then he twigged. "This is written in Greek!"

"Very good." Giles' voice held approval. "And we're not adding them to the
public card catalogue."

"I don't think it would make a difference," he began, then added quickly,
"Not because no one uses the card catalogue anymore since Ms. Calendar's
class put the catalogue online, but because no one will be able to read the
card. In Greek." He paused, and held out the card. "Um, where do you
want it to go?"

There was another, smaller cabinet in the corner, that was locked. Giles
walked over and pulled out the keys. "Over here."

Xander gathered up the stack of non-English cards and carried them over,
trying not to chortle triumphantly. Filing cards *was* much easier than
shelving books. Even if it was sometimes more fun -- but only when Giles
didn't *mind* if he got distracted by reading the books he was supposed to
be shelving. But since that meant shelving at a rate of one book per hour,
and the stack of books was at least a hundred large....

"And when you get that done you can help me with the books."

"Oh, goody." 

Xander flipped through the cards, wondering why Giles was just standing
there, waiting. So far, all the cards were in Greek, which meant he
couldn't read them. He glanced up and saw Giles watching, amused. Before
he could admit defeat and hand the cards over to Giles, the writing
changed. This one he recognized; he'd been studying it as part of his
demonic chem courses. Terazu, one of the more common demon languages. He
filed the card away. The next one was in Terazu as well. Also filed. He
heard Giles moving away to start with the books.

He managed to file a dozen cards, then he set aside a few written in
something that looked like Morse code. Then several in Getherian which he
filed, then a short stack of more indecipherables. He set those aside and
went to grab a pile of books. Giles gave him a sidelong look when he
joined him in the stacks.

"Left the weird ones for you," he said casually, reading the spine of the
first book. One he'd read before, so he could shelve it quickly.

"I have some beginning books on most of those languages, if you're
interested...?"

"Maybe. I've kinda got my hands full right now." He read another spine,
and stopped, set the other books down and opened it. As he skimmed the
introduction, he said, "Wouldn't mind learning Italian."

"Italian? Why Italian?"

"It's sexier than French." Xander waggled his eyebrows. 

Giles rolled his eyes. "How about Latin?"

Xander frowned slightly, and flipped to the table of contents of _Grepers
Soliloqy_. "I don't know. Is it sexy? The only things I've ever heard
said in Latin are spells." He had no idea what he was looking at, but he
had the feeling it was something naughty. He'd have to check it out.

"It's the basis for most of the so-called romance languages."

"So was Neanderthal grunting. You don't see me picking *that* up." He
started reading the first chapter, leaning up against a bookcase.

"Have you listened to yourself, first thing in the morning?" Giles teased.

Xander grunted. Flipped another page. "Hey! This stupid book is about
economics!" He glared at Giles. "You just stood there and let me read
it...."

"You didn't go up in smoke or anything."

"I might have. These books are dangerous!" He quickly shelved it, and
grabbed another book. He didn't recognize the title, and, with a
suspicious glare at Giles, opened it.

"And speaking of smoking..."

"Yeah?" This one actually looked promising. History, granted, but one of
the chapter summaries mentioned Barnabas the Wizzy, whom he'd read about in
Dem Chem.

"Have you been?" 

The question was asked so casually, it triggered Xander's alarms. He
looked up to find Giles watching him with an expression he'd never seen on
Giles' face before. "Have I been what?" he asked carefully.

"Have you been smoking?"

Xander blinked. "No."

Disappointment flitted across Giles face and he sighed heavily. "I thought
you didn't want to lie anymore."

Xander slammed his face into neutral surprise. "You're saying I'm lying
to you?" He had no idea how Giles had found out -- it had only been one,
and he'd been very careful not to let his clothes smell of smoke. There
was no reason to think Giles *should* know.

Giles pulled out the pack of cigarettes that Xander had been carrying in
his jacket and tossed it to him. "There's one missing."

He stared at the pack, in sheer disbelief. "You took that out of my
jacket." He looked up at Giles. "You *counted* them? You took them out
of my jacket and *counted* them!?"

"I had reason to, didn't I?"

"Because you don't trust me." Xander slammed the book he was holding
closed, but set it down more carefully. "You going to put a camera in my
bedroom next?"

"Your indignation would hold more weight if you hadn't just lied straight
to my face."

"So you're saying you knew you couldn't trust me *before* you went through
my stuff? Or you went through my stuff first, and now you feel justified?"
Xander's voice was tight and controlled -- he could feel his rage and hurt
telling him to do something. Scream, throw one of those precious books
across the room. 

"Xander-"

He stepped back, once, and decided to go with that feeling. He turned and
walked away.

"Xander!" 

He broke into a run -- heading for the door.

**********

Part Eleven

He wandered for a while, his heart-rate slowed back down now. He'd run
out of the school, run away even though he had no idea if Giles had tried
to follow him. He was so angry he could barely think clearly. He jammed
his hands into his pockets, and found the pack of cigarettes there.

Defiantly, he pulled it out. Put one in his mouth and lit it. Felt a lot
more like Spike as he smoked it, than ever.

"Hey, Xander!" a friendly voice called from behind him.

He stopped, and turned. "Devon! Hey, man, what's up?" He gave the other
boy a friendly grin.

"Not much, having a little party tonight and just getting supplies." He
hefted the bags from the liquor store. "You coming?"

"Party?" Xander raised his eyebrows. He remembered Oz mentioning it -- in
the context of telling Willow they shouldn't bother going. He smiled. 
"Yeah. Need a hand?" 

Devon handed over half of the bags with a grin. "Haven't seen you around
lately."

"Sorry, been trapped. Grounded again, you know? Hey, where's your car?"

He grimaced. "Transmission blew."

"That sucks. We celebrating it's demise, or it's eventual recovery?"

"Not sure yet. Do we need a reason?"

"For a party?" Xander shook his head. "Party's reason enough."

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

The music was loud, the place was crowded. Xander didn't know half the
people there and he wasn't sure Devon knew them either. He didn't care. 
No one seemed to mind if they knew you or not, they just mingled, talked,
and danced. Drank. 

Xander was out on the porch, having another cigarette when someone --
Judy? Trudy? did it matter? -- came out and handed him a cup, gave him a
suggestive smile. He brought it to his lips dubiously. He'd watched Devon
making up the punch that everyone was drinking; most of the bottles he'd
helped carry had gone into it.

She, whoever she was, giggled and took a drink of her own. Not at all his
type, even accounting for gender. But thinking about what he *did* want
made him want to stop thinking and enjoy himself. One sure way to do that.
He took a drink, choked back a cough, and gave Giggle Girl her suggestive
smile right back.

A few hours later, most of the party goers were sitting down. Or lying
down, or leaning, or had already disappeared behind doors or to home. 
Xander was leaning against the kitchen counter, arguing with Devon and Mike
about the best flavor of potato chips. They'd had visual aids earlier, but
they were now gone. 

Someone had set them free on the front lawn.

Xander was trying to explain why chocolate potato chips were the best
idea, when someone tapped his arm. He looked over and grinned, slinging an
arm around Oz. "Hey! Party, man. Man, party. Have a potato."

"Thanks. Been here a while, huh?"

Xander nodded. "Since...um...earlier."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought. How about we be somewhere else for awhile?"

He grinned. "OK." He gave the guys a nod. "See you later." He stumbled
around a chair, and found Oz' hand still holding onto his arm.

Oz guided him around all the objects that seemed determined to jump into
his path on the way to Oz's van.

"You're pretty good at this," he said, admiringly. "I usually just let
'em fall down in the living room."

"Willow would pout at me if I let you get hurt," Oz replied, leaning him
up against the side of the van as he turned to open the door.

Xander nodded. "She's got the meanest pout this side of the Missillipi. 
Misslepee. Missassussa. That thing in the middle with all the water."

Oz nodded in agreement, then wrestled Xander into the seat and buckled his
seatbelt.

"Hey, where's my cigarettes?" Xander started searching his pockets. 
"Damn it, if Devon bummed them while I was drunk, I'm gonna be pissed." He
giggled. "I'm already pissed," he said in a British accent.

"Totally wasted," Oz agreed. He shut the door and then went around to the
other side, climbing in behind the wheel.

"Where we going?" Xander asked, suddenly realizing that they were leaving.


"Home."

Xander shook his head. "No, can't go home. Wanna go back to Devon's."

"I think you've had enough of Devon's for tonight. If you stay there much
longer you'll pass out."

Xander frowned. "Couldn't pass out -- there wasn't any room left. That's
why we were in the kitchen."

"I'll take you someplace where there is room, then."

"Cool!"

Oz nodded, then turned his attention back to his driving. Xander
entertained himself trying to remember the fingering for the Flugelhorn. 
He was pretty sure he could have played "Oh Say Can You See" if he'd had a
real horn, when he recognized where they'd just stopped. 

"You brought me here."

"Yep."

He frowned. "I don't think I should be here like this." Giles would
probably not like it. It was probably against a rule, coming home drunk
and smelling of whatever it was his shirt smelled like. 

Oz shook his head. "Best place to be when you're messed up is home." He
undid his seatbelt and hopped out.

"No," Xander protested. He waited patiently until Oz had come around to
his door, and opened it. "No, cause you don't live with Giles."

"You got me there." He leaned in and undid the seatbelt, then hauled
Xander out, and only his presence kept Xander from collapsing to the
pavement. 

"You don't know what he's gonna do!" Xander continued, letting Oz steer
him towards the front steps. "He's gonna look at me. And sigh. He'll
take off his glasses and rub his eyes...."

"The brute."

Xander nodded, glad Oz understood. But they were still heading up the
stairs to his apartment. He tried to untangled himself to go back
downstairs, but Oz seemed to have more arms than Xander did. They kept
going up.

Then they were at the door and Oz shifted his grip enough to knock.

"Hey, I think I have a key to this place." Xander tried to locate his
pockets, so he could search for them.

The door opened before he could, revealing a very worried Giles.

"Don't take your glasses off," Xander warned him. 

"He's a little wasted," Oz said.

"I think that would be an understatement," Giles said, letting Oz transfer
the job of supporting Xander to him. 

"I'm not undersatyred!" Xander protested. Then he giggled, when he
realized what he'd said. "I'm satyred. No, I'm not," he corrected. "No
cute guys. Only girls." He looked up at Giles. "Why do only cute girls
flirt with me?"

"Because you're cute," Oz responded. "Least that's what Willow says."

Xander grinned. "Hey!" Then he frowned. "Doesn't count. You're taken."
He tried to dodge the wall as it wove towards him, but Giles pushed him
back towards it. "Stop that."

Giles didn't let go. "I fear if I do stop it, you'll fall down."

"Running me into the wall is beater? Betted. Bummer."

"I'm not running you into the wall," was the patient answer. "I'm guiding
you towards the couch." And that piece of furniture did seem to be getting
closer.

He tried to pull free. "I don't need your help." Any idiot could sit on
a couch by himself. Even if the couch was swaying.

"Humor me."

"Why? You saying something funny?" He looked over at Giles -- who was
swaying, as well, but not in time with the couch. He frowned. He tried
again to pull free so he could talk to Giles properly.

"You are determined to end up on the floor, aren't you?"

"It's closer, anyway. Who said I wanted to be on the couch?"

Giles didn't answer, but didn't let go either. Xander tugged again,
harder, growing more irritated. He stumbled sideways, but still didn't get
free. "Xander-" Giles was beginning to sound exasperated.

"What?" he snapped. He tugged again, thinking it had been a lot more fun
at Devon's.

His guardian's expression darkened. "We'll talk about you being at
Devon's, tomorrow."

"Talk, talk, that's all you ever do. And glare. Let *go* of me! I said
I didn't want your help." He dug his heels into the carpet, pulling hard. 
He stumbled free this time, falling to the floor. It took him a few
moments to get to his feet again.

"Happy now?"

"Better." He scowled at Giles. He wished the man would stand still. He
wasn't sure why, though. Just a vague memory of wanting to tell him
something. Or avoid him?

He watched Giles sigh and shake his head. "I don't know what I'm going to
do with you."

That irritated him. "Who said you have to do anything with me?" He took
a step towards the couch, and ended up closer to Giles instead.

"We'll discuss it in the morning."

"Feh." Xander shook his head. "I don't want to." He tried to turn
around -- the front door had been back behind him, someplace. "I wanna go
back." He had to get his cigarettes from Mike, anyhow.

"Oh, no. You're not going out again." Giles grabbed his arm.

Xander turned back, shouting, "I am so!" He had to get his cigarettes. 
Then he blinked. Stared at his hand.

Stared at Giles -- whom he'd just struck.

"Oh, god," he whispered, suddenly finding himself on his knees.

Giles knelt beside him. "Are you done?"

He nodded, staring wide-eyed at the trickle of blood running down Giles'
lip. He could hear himself still saying, "Oh, god," over again. 

He felt Giles hands on him, pulling him back up. "Let's get you off the
floor."

"I'm sorry," he tried to say, not sure if he had said it loud enough, so
he said it a second time. When he realized he was still saying it, he
slammed his mouth shut and just thought it.

"I know."

"I didn't mean it, I swear, I didn't, I won't...please don't. Please." 
He let Giles help him stand, afraid even so of what was going to happen now.

"It's all right."

"Please," he said again, and he tried -- less urgently, but no less
desperately -- to get out of the man's grasp again.

"Xander..." He was being pulled closer.

He started to beg again, and realized there was probably no reason. It
had never worked, anyhow. He clamped his jaw shut and waited. He wanted
to close his eyes, but that wasn't safe. Then Giles' arms were closing
around him, holding him tight. 

He had no idea what was going to happen. Did Giles want to make sure he
couldn't get away? He didn't struggle. He knew he deserved whatever he
got. And if it meant being thrown out, as well -- it was, after all, the
worst thing that could happen to him. 

He had no doubt now, therefore it would.

But nothing happened, except Giles kept holding him. Slowly, he reached
up and grabbed onto Giles' sleeve.

"It's all right," Giles repeated softly.

"I didn't mean to," he whispered. That had never worked, not even when
he'd been small enough that it could have been believed. But he heard
himself saying it, anyway.

"I know. I know you didn't."

The voice was so gentle, Xander found himself believing it. He buried his
face in the shoulder of the man holding him.

He had no idea how long they stood there like that, but finally Giles
moved back a little. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

This time he didn't struggle. Let Giles guide him, surprised to find out
just how unsteady on his feet he really was. Then they were in his room
and he was being lowered onto his bed. He tried to unbend his fingers,
seeing the fabric of Giles' shirt caught there among his hands. But he
couldn't get the command down from his brain to those digits, and they
remained firmly lodged where they were.

Giles looked at him for a long moment. "Would you rather sleep in my room
tonight?"

He tried to look up at where the voice was coming from, but his head was
suddenly ringing. For all he knew, the voice was in there, too.

"Right." He was being pulled back to his feet again and they were moving
out of his room and down the hall.

He didn't stumble so badly this time, and when Giles eased him down again
to sit on the bed, he was able to let the arm holding him, go. Briefly,
anyway, though he reached out again a moment later when it tried to go away.

"I'm not going anywhere," Giles reassured him. "I'm just going to get your
shoes off."

"Oh." He let go again, and watched, waiting to see that Giles really
didn't go too far.

Giles knelt in front of him and then he felt his shoes and socks being
tugged off.

"You're down there," Xander said. 

"Yes, that's where your feet are."

"Oh." He leaned farther forward to see, and found himself beginning to
topple off the bed.

Only to be caught by Giles and pushed back into a sitting position. "That
doesn't mean you have to join me."

"But I wanted to," he said easily, but let Giles steady him on the bed.

"Of course you did." He pulled Xander's shirt over his head.

When the shirt cleared his line of sight, he found himself looking at
Giles. There was dried blood on his lip. "Oh." He wanted to run away
from it, but wasn't sure he could even get to his feet.

Seeing where he was looking, Giles gingerly touched the spot. "It's not
bad."

"I hit you." He could feel something shattering. "I just wanted him back
-- I didn't mean to hit you."

"I know."

He slid forward again, this time less topple, more control. He landed
where he'd been aiming -- Giles' lap. He grabbed Giles, and held on
tightly. Giles didn't say anything, just stroked his hair gently. "I made
him go away," Xander said, shakily.

"You didn't have a choice."

"I want him back." He pressed his face against Giles' chest. "I want him
back."

"I know." The soothing stroking continued.

Xander found himself crying, then, and he had presence of mind to keep his
face pressed hard against Giles, to silence his voice. Giles just
continued to hold him until he fell asleep.

*********

Part Twelve

He woke up and decided he must be dead. Either that, or the Hellmouth had
decided to give him the flu. A special hellmouthy flu which involved parts
of his brain being larger that his skull. He groaned, then grabbed his
head as the sound seemed to reverberate. It felt like he could feel each
little sound wave.

Xander tried to bury himself under the pillow. Maybe if he suffocated,
he'd feel better.

"Good morning," came an overly cheery and overly loud voice.

He groaned again, and pressed the pillow over his ears. The pillow was
pulled away and a glass and some pills were put in his hands.

"Uh?" he managed, blinking blearily. Then he recognized the water and
aspirin, and tried to sit up. Giles sat on the bed beside him and helped
him up. He went first for the aspirin, getting them onto his tongue before
taking a single drink of water -- which, as soon as the liquid hit his
tongue, turned into gulping the entire glass without stopping.

"Better?"

"Bathroom. Then, possibly." His head was still spinning, and everything
was entirely too bright and loud. Not quite dead, though. He moaned when
he tried to move. "This is my punishment, isn't it? To not die?"

"The beginning of it, yes," Giles told him cheerfully.

Xander just moaned again, and fell back onto the bed.

"When you're ready, I've got breakfast waiting."

He winced at the thought of food. "That's part of my punishment, too,
isn't it?"

Giles merely smiled. Xander rolled over and tried again to bury himself
under the pillow. Unfortunately, as soon as he moved, his bladder informed
him that he had consumed a *lot* of liquid and wouldn't he hate to have a
pee in Giles' bed?

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," Giles informed him, standing and
heading for the door.

Xander stayed where he was for as long as he could, then slowly and
carefully dragged himself out of bed. He felt like he'd rather be dead. 
Undead, even. It *had* to be better than this. As he staggered towards
the bathroom, he asked himself what on god's black earth he'd been thinking
of. 

It was tricky to figure out, since a lot of last night was hazy. He
remembered a pretty girl, kissing her in a closet. No symbolism there, he
muttered. And something about potatoes, and Oz, and...

"Oh, fuck."

He had hit Giles. Hard enough to draw blood. He felt his stomach try to
rebel at the memory. He stumbled into the bathroom -- feeling his head
spinning, not sure if he was going to faint or throw up, possibly both. 
He'd *hit* Giles. Gotten drunk and hit him.

No better than his own father.

The thought echoing over and over in his mind, he slid to the floor. He
would have thought, of anyone, he would know better. Know not to do this -
drink until he couldn't control himself, then hurt somebody he loved. 
Apparently, though, he did not. Or maybe it was just as they said: like
father, like son. He pressed his hands to his face as he started to
tremble. 

Did it get easier the next time? Had his father been this remorseful the
first time, ashamed and scared that he'd done such a thing? How many times
had it taken before he stopped caring? Xander slammed himself back,
furious with himself, head exploding both inside and out as it connected
with the tiled wall.

"Ow."

There was a soft knock at the door. "Xander? Are you all right?"

He laughed. Oh, yeah, he was great. Just perfect.

"Xander?" The level of concern in Giles' voice increased and he cracked
the door open.

"Yeah?" God, Giles must have the patience of Confucius -- hadn't he been
the one to invent the tea ceremony? Anyone who could sit through
*that*.... Xander realized his thoughts were wandering a bit too far
afield, and wondered if he was still slightly drunk. No, he couldn't
possibly feel this bad and still be intoxicated. "I can understand why
some people stay drunk."

"That only delays the inevitable." Giles crossed the room and knelt beside
him. Reaching out, he gently brushed away tears Xander hadn't even realized
he'd shed. "But it's more than the hangover that's bothering you."

Xander looked up, dumbfounded that Giles would be acting like this. As if
nothing untoward had happened, at all. Or perhaps he was just waiting for
Xander's head to clear before tearing into him. 

"Come on. Let's get you off the floor and we'll talk."

"That sounds familiar." But he let Giles help him to his feet. "Um, I
gotta--"

Giles nodded. "I'll wait outside."

Xander tried not to think about what Giles was going to say to him when he
came out. He had a feeling, though, he was about to discover what was
worse punishment than grounding. What if he'd lost the trip to England? 
Or his correspondence classes, which Giles had pulled so many strings for
him to take in the first place? Worried, he left the bathroom. He
couldn't think of anything else that Giles would consider punishment. 

Giles was waiting for him in the living room. He looked up when Xander
entered and for the first time, Xander noticed the developing bruise at the
right side of his guardian's mouth. His steps faltered. He looked away,
down at his hands. He'd hit Giles. 

Praying that Giles had meant what he'd said about never throwing him out,
Xander forced himself to look back up and accept what he would be given.

The look on Giles face was not what he had been expecting. Compassionate,
affectionate even, with no sign of the anger or condemnation he had feared.

"Um, did I come into the wrong living room?" Xander glanced behind him,
looking for the portal to his home dimension.

Giles smiled faintly. "No, right living room."

"You got the right script? Xander screws up royally, Giles gets mad?" He
was confused -- Giles was *entirely* too calm.

"Do you want me to get mad?"

"No!" He shook his head rapidly, and instantly regretted it. "Ow." He
leaned up against the wall. "Why *aren't* you mad?"

"You didn't mean it." Giles paused. "That doesn't mean we're not going to
talk about it."

Xander groaned. He walked around the end of the couch, but sat on the
floor and leaned up against it. He took a couple long breaths, waiting for
the pounding in his head to slow down. Then, "OK."

"I am sorry if you think I invaded your privacy. But your actions lately
have been...."

"What did I do?" He knew what he'd done *wrong*. "That made you think
you had to check up on me?"

Giles looked away. "You've been...indulging in self-destructive behavior.
I saw...myself."

"Saw yourself what? Oh. Saw *yourself*." Xander nodded. "I guess I
can't exactly say I wasn't. I just...thought I was hiding it better." He
smiled ruefully.

"Not from me." He shrugged diffidently. "Watcher and all that."

Xander saw the diffidence, saw how yet Giles wasn't angry. He had every
right to be, if not for the cut lip, then for everything else. "Do you
want me to tell you what I did?" he offered, thinking of the one thing he
regretted most.

"If you need to."

Xander laughed, not quite as bitterly as before. "Will it affect my final
punishment?" Then he shook his head. "I just want you to know I'm sorry I
lied to you. About smoking."

Giles nodded. "Thank you."

He reflected that he might not *have* to tell him -- Giles seemed to know
what he'd done, already. With, perhaps, one exception. He had to look
away, as he began. "Skipped school, four times. Got stoned -- only the
one time. Had three cigarettes before last night -- couldn't tell you how
many I had at the party. The party -- well, that's obvious. Wasted out of
my mind. Um, and I took a book out of your office." 

He sat very still, knowing that he might have an angry-Giles, after all. 
The books Giles kept in his office were there because they were too fragile
or too dangerous to be kept in the main library. "Which one?"

"Corner's Delight." It had been sitting right beside the one Willow had
wanted him to borrow. He'd picked it up briefly, then. Gotten as far as
the table of contents before Giles had told him to set it down.

Xander knew he was in big trouble when he watched Giles' face pale. "Where
is it?"

He got to his feet as quickly as he could and went into his room. The
book was under his bed, wrapped in a cloth designed to protect magical
objects from detection. He hadn't wanted the book stolen while he was
borrowing it without permission. He brought it out, and handed it over.

"You didn't do anything-"

"I couldn't get all the materials. There *was* one, but it calls for two
spellcasters and I didn't think I could talk anyone into helping me." He'd
considered keeping that one in reserve, though. Spike or even Dru might
have-- 

Giles was staring at him in horror. "Do you realize what would've happened
to you if you had?"

With a very bad feeling, Xander shook his head. "I read the spells a
dozen times, and I didn't see anything--"

"That is the book that contained the spell that raised Eyhgon. Every spell
in it is not only the spell as written, but also a compact with a demon."

Xander stared at Giles. "As in, do this spell for you and you become my
slave?" He felt the floor wobble.

"Those are the mild ones."

He closed his eyes and dropped his head. Oddly, he found himself
remaining calm. He would have guessed screaming fits, but instead, he was
calm -- thinking rather clearly. He could almost hear Ms. Montgomery's
voice saying, "Let's review" as he thought back: He'd skipped school. 
Smoked, lied about it. Hit Giles - albeit unintentionally. Nearly sold
his soul to a demon.

Generally, proven that he was untrustworthy around anything that required
common sense. In fact, the only thing he hadn't fucked up was helping
Buffy slay vampires. 

Maybe his father had been right. Raised by mongrels, all he was good for
was an offering -- be the good soldier and stand in the front, kill until
they kill you....

He could feel himself compacting. Like huge metal walls, closing in to
take away everything he'd thought he could be -- but was, apparently, even
worse off at for trying. The only question left, was what would happen
today. What would Giles do -- he opened his eyes to see.

Giles, still pale, set the book aside and got to his feet. He crossed over
to where Xander was standing and hugged him tightly. Xander let his arms
go around Giles, but he kept thinking. If he didn't do anything, he
couldn't fuck it up. If he stopped wanting to do things, he wouldn't
forget, and try. 

If he stopped caring, he wouldn't miss it. 

He thought of the next-to-last lesson for his dem chem class, still
sitting on his desk. He should probably return it, with a note to his
professor. Quit before he failed *that*, too.

"I thought I was protecting you," Giles murmured, half to himself. "But I
forgot ignorance only makes you more vulnerable. I'm sorry. I won't make
that mistake again."

Xander focused on what Giles was saying, and found himself confused. Had
he missed something? He pulled back a little, and Giles let go of him. 

"At the very least you need to know enough to decipher the risks and
benefits of a spell."

And even more confused. Why would he need to know? He'd -- oh. Giles
didn't realize. Xander shook his head. "It's OK, G-man. I won't be
picking up any more books."

Giles gave him a questioning look.

The walls he'd rebuilt started to ache a little at that look. At the
sound of his voice saying 'G-man.' He tugged on them harder, forcing them
to stay. "Don't worry about me doing it again." 

"I won't be, after I know you know enough to figure out the risks."

He laughed. "I've got it figured out - magic, bad. Unless you're
somebody like Willow." Somebody who's good at everything she does.

Giles frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Someone who's good at that stuff." He'd never even wanted to do magic --
not once he'd realized Willow had a natural talent for it. He hated trying
to do anything she could do, had ever since they were five and had been
trying to learn how to roller skate. He'd given them up when she'd been
the first to stop falling on her face. Luckily she'd never wanted to try a
skateboard. 

He could feel himself getting a little hyper. He'd always had to keep
moving, it helped distract himself from thinking about things.

"Xander, you could be good at it."

Laughing, he shook his head. "It's OK, you don't have to tell me things
like that." He smacked the voice inside his head that wanted to hear it
anyway. That way leads to dark things, he told it. He stepped farther
away from Giles, wanting to maybe go to his room -- he could play computer
games all afternoon, not risk anything more than a sore wrist. Except
Giles wouldn't be through with him, yet.

Giles was looking at him strangely now, a look on his face that Xander
hadn't seen in quite some time. "Yes," Giles said slowly, "I think I do."

Xander paused for a moment. His walls were shaking, and he had to
concentrate to keep them steady. "Are you--" he began casually, then
realized that casual could be taken for flippant in this context, and
continued more seriously, "gonna ground me? Or something else? Have you
decided yet?" 

"Yes. It's obvious you need something to distract you from getting into
trouble. And I think I have just the thing."

He nodded, calmly. He could take whatever Giles had to dish out. Because
he'd earned it, and because punishment was...well, taking punishment *was*
one thing he was good at.

"Lessons."

"Huh? For what?" Xander felt like he'd once again missed part of the
conversation.

"On spells, for one thing. History perhaps, and some of those languages we
were discussing earlier. More demonic chemistry-"

Oh, those. He shook his head smoothly. "Don't need it," he said, and his
voice was too quiet. He needed to say something funny, so Giles wouldn't
realize what he'd said.

"Who said you had a choice? This is your punishment."

He nodded. He'd do it, and maybe, when he messed it up, Giles would let
him stop. He had an image of Giles' face when he realized that Xander
couldn't do it. Maybe he'd stop trying.

Giles reached out and gently lifted his chin so he had to meet his
guardian's gaze. "You needn't look like it's a fate worse than death. You
have the ability, you just need the knowledge in how to use it."

Xander shook his head again. "I'll just mess up, again."

"Everyone messes up. That's what the lessons are for. The same as Buffy's
training -- you mess up in a safe environment so you won't when it counts."

He gave the walls a hard thump -- stupid things were trying to listen to
Giles, tell him he was right. "I always mess up," he found himself saying.

Giles frowned at him. "That is your father talking. And it is far from the
truth."

"Haven't you been watching these last few months?" Xander asked
incredulously. "You know, the only reason I didn't start stealing is
because--because, well I don't know why. I probably would have gotten
around to it, too."

"Maybe," Giles allowed. "I did."

Perversely, Xander laughed again, this time with actual amusement. "Is
there anything you *didn't* do? So I can at least be original next time?"

"I didn't ask for help when I needed it."

"Oh." Xander stepped forward again, taking Giles in a hug. He suddenly
found himself wondering if there was a way he could go find that Giles. 
Because maybe there was a reason Giles was proving so good at this. He
suddenly realised his walls had crashed without him really noticing; all he
wanted now was to make the shadows go away.

Giles' arms went around him in return. "You're not messing up now," he
said softly.

Xander smiled, but asked, "You're not either, are you? I mean... you ask
now, don't you?"

It was Giles' turn to shift uncomfortably. "Well, I-"

Xander leaned back, just far enough to look at him. He didn't bother to
ask; he could see what the answer would be.

"We all have our faults."

He tapped Giles on the chest with one finger. "You have to ask. From now
on, you have to ask. If I have to...have to give up cigarettes and Devon's
house and skipping school, and have to learn Latin, then you have to ask."

Giles stared at him for a long moment then nodded. "That seems only fair,"
he said, his voice huskier than normal.

Xander waited. Looked at him as Giles didn't quite meet his eyes.

"I...will ask."

He waited some more.

Giles lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

"And what haven't you asked for recently?" It felt weird, kind of, to be
asking -- like suddenly he was the grown-up. 

"Well, um..."

"Besides the name of the brewery which makes honey cider," Xander allowed.


"Ah." Giles closed his mouth again, with a ghost of a smile. "Then there
isn't anything recent."

Xander considered the reply, then decided to believe him. He nodded. 
"So...crises over? Diverted? Delayed for bad weather?" He tried grinning,
and found that it didn't hurt. His headache must have fallen to the
aspirin.

The grin called an answering one to Giles' face. "It would appear so."

"You said there was breakfast?" he asked hopefully.

"I did. I take it you're feeling better?"

"Um," Xander delayed answering while he thought it over. Not that he
couldn't tell if his head hurt or his elbow ached from *something* he'd
done last night and didn't really want to know about. Rather, he wanted to
make sure that admitting to feeling better wasn't going to herald a return
to certain parts of the conversation. Lecture. "Yeah, I guess." 

"Good." Giles clasped his shoulder. "We'll eat and then we'll discuss your
new schedule."

"My...am I gonna have *any* free time?" He didn't bother giving Giles a
pleading look. He'd lucked out with lessons as punishment and didn't want
Giles to take them away.

"Of course. In a month or two."

"By summer?" Xander perked up. "Oh - because school will be out."

"I won't make you study on the plane to England."

He found himself smiling, surprised. "We're still going?"

"We're still going." Giles seemed surprised as well. "You thought I'd
cancel the trip?"

Xander shrugged. "I didn't know what else you could do...other than take
away the dem chem classes and you already said I have to take *more* of
those." 

"I think the results of last night were better punishment than anything I
could come with. I'm sure you won't be getting drunk again any time soon."

"I don't think I could ever drink again," Xander said quietly, unable to
tear his gaze away from the bruise on Giles' lip. "Didn't--didn't he feel
the same way?" he asked softly.

"Your father?"

"Why didn't hurting me make him want to stop?" What if it turned out it
*wasn't* enough? What if he got drunk again anyway....

Giles chose his words carefully before answering. "Some people can't face
what they've done. When they drink, they don't have to. It can become a
vicious cycle."

"Even if that's what makes them do it again?"

"Even then."

Xander moved himself back into Giles' embrace, tucking his head against
his shoulder. It didn't make him feel any better, but...it helped. They
stood there for several moments, silently. 

Finally, Giles asked, "Breakfast?"

Xander nodded. "Breakfast."

*********
Part Thirdteen

Xander frowned at the book in front of him. Giles had assured him --
three times now -- that it was written in a language he knew. The symbols
scattered across the page looked familiar, and he didn't doubt he knew them
-- until he tried translating what they meant once he'd put the words
together.

"Rot the nose of a hedgehog, plus the green baron?" he finally read aloud.
He looked up and found Willow watching him from across the table. The
library was otherwise quiet, as such places were meant to be. Which this
library often wasn't.

"Is that any relation to the red baron?"

"You know, I'm not sure." Xander reread the sentence and scanned the one
after. "If I find the word "Snoopy" in here, I'm giving Giles back his
book and going outside to shoot some hoops. Punishment be damned."

"I heard that!" came from the direction of the stacks.

"At least you'll be set if we're ever attacked by a vicious hedgehog,"
Willow said encouragingly.

Xander rolled his eyes, glancing towards the stacks. Then he leaned
forward, and stage-whispered, "Have you noticed how he hears *everything*? 
I mean, the stuff you don't want him to hear -- but when you walk right up
and say 'hey, you wear that same tweed coat every Tuesday,' he doesn't hear
a thing?" He glanced towards the stacks again, conspiratorially. "I think
it's a spell of some sort. We gotta look it up, find a counter-spell."

"You'll have to master the language in that book first," Giles' voice
drifted out of the stacks. "And there is a difference between not hearing
and ignoring."

Xander just looked at Willow, who was giggling quietly. "See?" Then he
sighed. Break time over, he had to get back to figuring out what green
barons and hedgehogs had to do with anything he needed to know about. 

He had a lot of studying to do, and despite the fact that he enjoyed it --
sitting here, or at home, Giles always somewhere nearby, sometimes Willow,
too -- the work was hard. At least, it was when Giles handed him a book in
what he *knew* was not really Greek, and said "here, we'll talk about it on
Friday".

Those talks were the best part of all this studying. Giles did not dumb
down the concepts, and expected him to keep up. Xander was slowly
beginning to believe that he could do this. That he wasn't going to mess up.

It was the nicest feeling he'd had since he'd passed his dem chem 100
exam. Or since last Sunday, when Giles had given him a Dead Puppies CD,
with only the request that he not play it too loudly. Or possibly since
the Monday a week before that, just after the party, when Giles had taken
Xander on patrol with him-- just the two of them half a cemetery away from
the Slayers. 

He wished he could have gone tonight, but Giles informed him that his
studies came first, he didn't need to be out on routine patrols. Xander
would've argued, but this was his punishment after all. He shouldn't be
enjoying it all the time.

Just most of the time. He reread the sentence after the one with the
green baron, and decided he needed another break. If goslings really were
the best thing to prevent demon spawn, he wasn't sure he wanted to know
about it right now. He slid the book away from him and stood up,
stretched, then headed up to find Giles.

Giles was only a few rows back, shelving books. "Problem?" he asked when
Xander joined him.

"My head's throbbing." He went up to Giles, snuggled up against him, and
looked pitiful for all he was worth.

"I used to have a professor who said that if your head wasn't throbbing
you weren't reading it right," Giles commented, but hugged Xander with a
sigh.

"Can I go out on patrol with Buffy tomorrow? Please? Just this once then
I swear I'll read all about geese and green people."

"Xander-"

"Please, dad? I promise I'll finish the book." Xander gave him one of
his better pleading faces.

"You know that isn't going to work."

He leaned back, and asked in a normal tone of voice, "What isn't going to
work?"

"The 'call him dad and get whatever you want' trick," Giles said calmly.

Xander blinked. Then, "But it has to work! It always works!"

Giles shook his head. "Sorry."

He stood there in shock. His best weapon, ripped from his arsenal....
"That is so not fair." He turned and very deliberately stomped back down
to his chair. When Willow gave him a questioning look, he said, "We are
gonna find that spell." He grabbed the book and opened it, and began
reading it with furious determination.

For one sentence.

"What are snugwarts?"

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


Xander had made it all the way to the end of the page, an hour later. He
knew nothing more than he had when he'd started, unless the ancient
prophecies were *serious* when they said that nylon would be the ultimate
downfall of darkness.

"Ready for a break?" Giles asked, coming out of the stacks and joining
them at the table.

Xander gave him a suspicious look. "Depends. Do we have to shelve books?
Sand stakes?"

"Eat junk food?" Willow put in with surprise, as Giles put a cooler on the
table.

Xander closed his book and scooted his chair forward, even as he gave
Giles another suspicious look. "What's the catch? Is it gonna ensorcell us
into going home and mopping?"

"No catch." Giles smiled at him. "Consider it a reward for hard work."

He glanced down at his book. "One page?" He reached for a package of
twinkies and a soda, anyhow.

"You haven't given up."

"You don't know that," he muttered. "I could have been sitting here
staring at the book and thinking about the new kid in our science class."

Giles lifted an eyebrow. "Have you been?"

Keeping a straight face, Xander said, "Well, he's about two inches shorter
than I am, and wears Wrangler jeans with ripped pockets, he's taking shop
and has last period free, because he only ever carries four text books--"

"Ooo, the cute blond that sits in the back row by the window!" Willow
grinned enthusiastically. "He's yummy looking."

Xander grinned. "Don't let Oz hear you say that. But did you see him two
days ago? In that black turtleneck?"

"Yeah. And Monday he wore that blue shirt. Brought out his eyes."

"Didn't it though?" Xander was leaning forward, arms across the table
with his snacks safely in front of him. "I heard Cassie say he was at the
Bronze last night. We should go--" he glanced upwards, "next time I get a
reprieve."

"Perhaps for your birthday," Giles allowed.

"Oo," Xander said brightly, "Did you hear that? I get to go outside on my
birthday!" 

"Well, it's hard to set up a surprise party with you there," Willow
pointed out.

"It's hard to set up a surprise party with you telling me about it, too,"
he said reasonably, grabbing another package, this time of chocodiles.

"Oh, right. Just forget I said anything."

He nodded. "See, if you'd helped me find that spell to counter Giles'
hear-anything spell, I'd tell you about the memory experiment I discovered
in my dem chem text."

"It's not a spell," Giles reiterated patiently.

"Yes, dad," Xander replied, with the tone of exaggerated 'yes, of course,
if you say so,' that one used with senile parents. Then he stole a second
soda before Giles could take the cooler away.

Willow was giving them both an "isn't that sweet" smile. Xander started
to call her on it, then remembered what she knew that made her think it
would be sweet. He took another package of chocodiles and looked at his
book. 

He mock glared at Giles when he stole one of the packages he was hoarding
in front of him. "Did it look like I was done with that?" he scolded, then
glanced over as the library door swung open. Felt the twitch, but it
wasn't bad enough to show. Getting better. He smiled, though, when Kendra
walked in.

"Good evening," Giles greeted her. 

She nodded, politely, respectfully. Xander watched with delight, about to
tease her, when he saw the look on Giles' face. Yeah, Giles loved his own
Slayer, but there was no doubt the well-trained Watcher in him wished Buffy
were more like Kendra. 

It was, if nothing else, easier to get a report out of her that made sense.

"How did patrol go?"

"It went well, sir," she said calmly, staring straight ahead. Mostly -
her gaze flickered to Willow, and she smiled the tiniest bit in response to
whatever Willow had done. "I found three vampires. All now slain."

"Way to kick vampire butt," Xander congratulated her, earning a look from
his guardian.

Which he returned with a 'what?" one of his own. Giles returned his
attention to Kendra, who was still standing at attention. "Were they all
together?"

"Two were. Just fledglings. The other was...different. Harder to kill." A
grimace of distaste crossed her face. "And he would not be quiet, the
entire time we were fighting."

"Oh, shoulda left him for Buffy. She likes that kinda thing." Xander
smirked. 

Giles gave him another look. Then he asked her, "Was there anything
unusual about him? Other than a tendency to babble?"

"He had very blond hair. Bleached is the word? An accent like yours."
Another grimace. "He kept calling me 'pet'. It was annoying, but not too
unusual for a vampire."

Xander was suddenly very glad no one was looking his way. It took him a
few centuries -- or seconds, probably -- to pull his heart back down into
his chest and make it start beating again. "Was he wearing a black leather
coat?" he asked, numbly. Trying to hide the numbly....

Willow's eyes lit up. "Oo! Yeah, was he? It sounds like Spike. Did you
dust Spike?"

Kendra shrugged. "He did not give me his name."

"It certainly sounds like it could have been him," Giles put in.

Willow bounced excitedly. "How exciting! Buffy will be so happy." She
turned her happy grin on Xander, who somehow managed to smile, and nod back.

How exciting.

Spike was dead.

**********
Part Fourteen


He was glad that he had an excuse to leave the apartment before the party.
Giles had given him permission to go out -- originally to allow his friends
to set up the surprise party. Now, it was just to give him some time out
of the apartment, part of his birthday celebration, an evening free of
lessons.

Xander was grateful, because it was getting harder not to act like his
world had crumbled around him. In the week since Kendra had so calmly
announced she'd slain Spike, Xander had spent all his energy giving no one
reason to question his behavior.

Inside he'd been screaming. It was one thing to have sent Spike away,
knowing he was still out there somewhere. This was something totally
different. This was...irredeemable. Even if Xander had sworn never to see
Spike again, it would not be like this. Nothing could be like this,
except-- what it was. 

Xander hurried, pulling his duster more tightly around him, not caring
that the night was warm. He wandered the streets aimlessly, not even
surprised when he realized 2:51 PM 12/5/00 he was heading for the factory. 

He'd been thinking of coming here, ever since that night. Come here to
somehow verify for himself that Spike was gone. The trouble with vampires
was lack of anything substantial left after they'd been slain. How was
Xander supposed to recognize Spike's ashes, among the decades of dust?

At the least maybe he'd been able to let his guard down for a little
while, let himself feel what he'd been trying not to feel. Grieve for
Spike. 

He let himself into the warehouse, and stepped cautiously inside. Did
vampires ever return as ghosts? Would Spike be haunting more than his
dreams? Was it pathetic that he actually was hoping for that?

The warehouse was silent, still as death. Appropriate, though when the
undead had lived here, the place had seemed...well, not cozy. But
certainly full of energy. Xander walked farther in, looking around. 
Something felt odd about the place.

It looked the same as always -- at first glance. But looking closer, there
were small things out of whack. Things moved a little. Places that should
be covered in dust, were clean.

Someone had been here. Someone...Spike? Xander's heart started beating
more rapidly. He found himself wondering how long had Spike been in
Sunnydale before Kendra found him. By how many minutes, days, had Xander
missed his chance to see Spike one more time? He moved deeper into the
place, looking for more signs, needing to know as much as he could.

He found them. Spike's bed had blankets thrown across it, not made, but
quite obviously someone had slept there. He froze, half-tempted to go over
and feel the mattress to find out if it were still warm. Then he laughed,
a bit hysterically. As if that would tell him what he really wanted to
know. The laughter turned into sobs almost without him noticing. Spike was
gone. And this was all he had left. An empty warehouse covered in dust.

The touch on his back startled him, and he began to wipe at his face, not
wanting to show his grief to some stranger. Instead he heard, "Xan?"

He spun around and stumbled backwards, staring at the man who stood there.
This was it. He'd finally gone crazy.

Spike stepped closer, reaching out for Xander's arm. The look on his face
was pure concern. "Xander? Did you miss me--?" There was an odd catch in
his voice, an echo of light-hearted arrogance laced with something else
entirely.

"You- You're de-dead," he stammered.

Spike blinked at him. "I'm what?"

"Kendra staked you." He asked in a small voice. "Didn't she?"

Spike patted his chest. "Don't see any holes." He looked down at
himself. "Don't see much dust." Then he looked up at Xander,
half-smiling. "Nope, think I'm still undead. Sorry."

Xander stared at him. He was starting to believe. "Spike?" His voice
trembled as much as the hand he reached out.

Spike took it, held it firmly in a grip of cool strength. A grip he knew,
a grip which had held his hand and his cock and his face, cool and
confident and never wavering. Never threatening.

Without thought, he stepped forward and held onto Spike with all his
strength.

Spike held him, and soon he heard whispers. "It's all right, Xander. 
It's all right. I'm here, luv. Everything's going to be OK." 

"I'm sorry," he said, realizing he was repeating that over and over.

"Don't be, you had every reason to ask me to go. If I'd thought you
didn't, I would have stayed. Argued with you -- and won," he said in his
typical self-assured tone.

"You came back." There was a lot more he wanted to say but that was all he
could get out.

"Had to."

"Why?"

Spike just held him, not answering. Xander couldn't tell if he didn't
know, or just didn't want to say.

"Are you staying?"

"Depends. On whether you tell me to go away again or not." 

Ask him to go away again after the last two months without him? "I don't
think I could," he said, laying his head against Spike's shoulder.

Spike just squeezed him, tighter. "Didn't know if you wanted me around,
but I missed you. Been watching you since I got back - trying to anyway. 
Old man not letting you out much, is he?" His voice tried for the
carefree, teasing tone, and mostly failed.

"I'm being punished. I did a lot of...stupid things." He tried to smile,
though he wasn't sure how successful he was. "Almost made sleeping with a
vampire look tame in comparison."

Spike's eyebrows went up. "This I have to hear." His mouth quivered a
bit, until he broke into a wide smile. 

That smile made it easy to return it in kind. "You want to hear how stupid
I am?" 

"Nah, know you're not stupid. Want to hear about you being naughty." He
grinned, and now Xander could see the hint of a leer. All he needed now
was for Spike to waggle his eyebrows come-hitheringly....

Just like he was doing now. Xander groaned. "I'll tell you later," he
promised, before leaning in and kissing Spike.

He felt Spike bounce a little, scooting himself in against Xander as he
was kissed. This was the feel, the taste, he'd been trying to remember,
trying to relive. Imagination and half a pack of cigarettes paled to
insignificance compared to this. He held on tightly, relishing every second.

Spike just pulled him in, hands on his back and digging into the jacket to
pull him even closer. Spike's tongue pressed on his, alternating fighting
for entrance to Xander's mouth, and cajoling Xander into his.

Xander clutched at Spike's shirt convulsively and whimpered into the kiss.
The fear and grief when he thought Spike was dead still was thrumming along
his nerves, making him even more desperate. He heard something, Spike's
voice with words not quite vocalized; he refused to pull away and let him
speak. Instead he dug in harder, hands and tongue, swearing not to let go.


He felt Spike relax, then, and stop trying to speak. He leaned forward,
nudging Xander ever so gently. Xander moved backward, willing to follow
Spike's urgings, as long as he didn't pull away or stop kissing him.

They stumbled a few steps, stopping once to let Xander regain his balance,
Spike holding onto him as he got his feet under him again. Still kissing. 
Still hanging on, then moving backwards again until there was something at
the back of his legs.

It took him a moment to realize what it was; he figured it out about the
same time Spike was pushing him back on the bed, coming to lie on top of
him. Spike settled on him as though he weighed nothing at all -- light as
a blanket, covering him from head to toe. Only the feel of his mouth told
Xander there was something more here. Something real. 

Until opened his eyes, and saw Spike, still staring at his mouth.

"Don't stop," he pleaded, his fingers trembling as he reached up to trace
Spike's features. "I need-"

"Shh," Spike said, and then he was there again. Kissing, touching,
pulling clothes open so he could feel flesh on flesh. Spike pushed his
groin against Xander's, and Xander let out a whimper. A hand burrowed
underneath him, between his back and the bed, and brought him close.

This was what he needed, to feel Spike against him, on him. But it still
wasn't enough. He surged upwards and wrapped his arms around Spike, pulling
him even closer. Spike's body pressed down along the length of his own,
trapping him, smothering him. It was perfect.

It was real. The edge of Xander's desperation faded a little and he was
able to pay more attention to what was happening. Spike was still moving,
slowly, undulating against him. One hand was splayed on his back, the
other twisted in Xander's hair -- the only sign that maybe he was as
desperate as Xander.

Spreading his legs, he arched up, groaning at the increased contact,
wringing a matching groan from the vampire. It sounded as good as it felt,
so he did it again. There was a growl, then, hard and deep, and it drove
him even further against Spike's body. One hand frantically pushing
between them, reaching for zippers and a little more freedom to enjoy,
Xander couldn't quite hold back long enough for Spike to finish the task.

He was pushing against the vampire, unable to stop or pause and wait,
breath coming in gasps, his hands still holding onto him tightly. Then
finally, somehow Spike had their jeans open enough that Xander could then
feel fingers on him, grasping lightly and tugging him free, pressing the
tip against Spike's stomach.

That did it. Xander screamed as his climax engulfed him, burning out
everything else. He heard a muttered, "Oh, Christ," and Spike's grip on
his back tightened. As Xander came back to himself, he found Spike
thrusting harder against him, eyes rolling back in his head.

Xander leaned up and bit at Spike's neck. Spike screamed, came all over
him. He collapsed on top of Xander, then stopped moving all together. 
Wrapping his arms around Spike, Xander hugged him tightly and waited for
the vampire to recover. 

"That was bloody well not playing fair," Spike finally said, pushing
himself up enough to grin down at Xander. "Do it again as often as you
can."

"It's a deal." He could feel himself smiling so widely his face was
beginning to hurt but he couldn't stop.

Spike looked at him for a moment, then just tilted his head. Obligingly,
he leaned in and nibbled at the offered throat. The resulting growl was
wonderfully encouraging. 

"You really like that, huh?"

Spike answered by baring his neck again. Xander bit again.

Spike whined. His hands gripped Xander's arms, hard, while the rest of
his body started to go limp. Most of his body. Xander was beginning to
get curious. Just how far could he drive Spike just by doing this?

Spike looked down at him. "You stopped," he said invitingly.

"Just planning my attack," he said blithely. Then started nipping at
Spike's neck again.

Spike wriggled happily, craning his head back as Xander began biting up
along his neck. Xander bit down, once, over the jugular and Spike moaned
and rolled onto his back. Xander followed the movement until he was lying
on top, straddling Spike's hips. He bit again at Spike's jugular.

The sound Spike made wasn't something Xander was ever sure he'd heard
before. Long, and wild, it echoed throughout the warehouse. It ended with
a whimper, and Spike's hands clawing at him again, for more. Xander gave
it to him, wondering why it had never occurred to him that biting would be
a turn-on to a vampire.

But it certainly was, at least to this vampire. With every new bite,
Spike made a noise -- anything from a moan to a whimper to an out-right
yell, Spike vocalized everything his bonelessly-unmoving body could not. 
It made Xander wonder where else he should bite. He pushed back the sleeve
of Spike's shirt, and tried the forearm.

A lovely scream, and Spike was begging, now. Moving over Spike's chest, he
unbuttoned just enough of the silk shirt to bare a nipple. He bit down on
it. Spike arced his back, fairly thrusting himself through the leg Xander
had thrown across Spike's thighs. 

Xander pulled back, looking down at the vampire's face. Spike's eyes were
wide, focused on something high above them. The muscles in his neck were
tensed, and his mouth was open, as if sense-memory told him he should be
panting for air right now. As he watched, that mouth moved, and he began
to form a word. It looked like 'Xan'.

He felt a surge of warmth and arousal at the sight and quickly lowered his
head again. Slithering down Spike's body, pulling his jeans farther out of
the way, he hovered over the vampire's erection.

"Xaaaaan," came the hoarse plea. Spike jutted his hips upward.

Grinning, Xander closed his mouth around Spike's length, letting his teeth
scrape gently. Spike howled, and his entire body tensed. Replacing his
mouth with a hand, Xander turned his attention his attention to Spike's
balls, biting down hard.

Spike nearly spasmed, his shout one of surprise and arousal, even as he
began coming all over again. And all over Xander.

He looked up at Spike's face, licking his lips, shivering at the taste. 
Spike's eyes were closed, and his chest rose once, then fell, before it
stilled. Then Spike lifted his head, and half-smirked. The image of
arrogance was marred by the unfocused look in his eyes.

"Keeping you," he said.

Something inside Xander came to life at those words. "Good," he sighed in
satisfaction.

Spike reached out for Xander's arm, and gave it a tug. He went willingly. 
With a smirk, Spike pulled him closer, until he was close enough to kiss. 
Only Spike didn't. Instead, he licked Xander's cheek. "Somebody needs a
bath."

"And whose fault is that?" He didn't quite pull off the accusing tone he
was trying for. Hard to make a believable accusation when you were grinning
like an idiot.

"Hmm.. don't know." Another lick. "Good thing you don't have to go
anywhere. This could take awhile." He licked again.

"Yeah," he said faintly, shivering. "Good thing."

Another slow lick, this time across his nose.

Xander giggled, then closed his mouth tightly, trying to keep from doing
so again. Giggling was just so...

Spike licked him again, down his nose. Another giggle escaped. "Spike!"
he protested.

"Wha?" he got, then Spike placed his mouth *over* Xander's nose.

And Xander found himself dissolving into hysterical laughter. When he was
finally able to control himself long enough to look at Spike, he found the
vampire watching him with the most self-satisfied expression Xander had
ever seen. Outside the feline family.

"Behave or I won't bite you again," he warned, trying to sound stern. Hard
to do with the happiness bubbling up inside him.

Spike grinned happily. "Bite me again, and I won't clean you up. Well,
until afterwards."

"Decisions, decisions."

Spike just waited, with an air of infinite patience.

Xander flopped over onto his back and spread his arms wide. "Clean now,
bite later."

"Then clean again? Hm, not as efficient as it ought to be. But still, a
good decision." Spike crawled above him, and began licking him again. 
Chuckled whenever Xander giggled, which was often, since Spike returned to
lick his nose every third lick or so.

Xander was also beginning to squirm. Spike's tongue running over his skin
was doing more than making him laugh. But Spike just held him steady and
continued licking. Ignored the way Xander's breathing changed, and the way
he kept trying to nudge Spike down, to lick at other places.

He was driving Xander crazy. "Spike," Xander moaned as the vampire's
tongue flickered over his nipple.

"Hmm?" came the apparently disinterested response. The tongue swirled
around his chest towards the other nipple.

He meant to say, "Don't tease" but what came out sounded more like a
strangled groan.

"What was that? 'Lick my ear, Spike'? Yes, if you want me to." And he
moved to do just that.

With another frustrated groan, he arched up against Spike, trying to bring
attention to where he really wanted Spike to lick.

"What? Oh, right," Spike said knowingly. Then licked his other ear.

Xander finally grabbed ahold of Spike's head and pushed it downward
towards his groin.

"Don't tell me I got you messy down *there*," Spike continued in that
infuriatingly amused tone of voice. But then -- god, finally -- he licked
Xander's erection. Once, long and slow. "Yep, suppose I must've. It's
all wet and sticky."

"All your fault," he groaned out.

"Then I suppose I ought to do the upright thing and... do the upright
thing."

Before Xander could smack him, Spike's mouth descended on him. Thought
disappeared then, and he gave himself over entirely to feeling.

Spike enthusiastically bent to task, showing more skill at licking than
any single lick at any other part of Xander's body had hinted at. Or
perhaps he was just so fired, so ready, that any touch would have sent him
spiraling into it. He didn't care either way, he just wanted Spike to keep
doing what he was doing, wanted this to last forever.

But Spike touched him, again, still licking and now sucking ever so
slightly -- and Xander found himself begging for *something* to stop, just
so he could breathe again. Or maybe he needed something to start,
something more than licks and touches -- only he couldn't get his mouth to
work to demand anything more.

There were sounds coming out of his mouth, whimpers and moans, but he
couldn't control them, he was so caught up in the sensations. For a
heartstopping too-long eternity, nothing changed. Spike continued the
too-light touches, the almost-enough licks, until Xander was ready to pull
himself out of his skin and demand it stop. Demand more. Demand
something, if only he could think of what.

Then he felt a finger slip inside him.

He cried out, suddenly knowing what he wanted. "Yes...please...Spike," he
babbled. 

He felt his legs being lifted, his jeans pulled up and off. Spike gave
his erection one last swipe of the tongue, then Spike began fumbling for
something. He had left one finger inside Xander, and was now wriggling it
a little, until Xander heard a soft "Aha, knew it."

"Hmmuh?" Xander managed, lifting his head and forcing his eyes open to
look at Spike.

Spike was holding a small tube in his hand. He popped it with one hand,
giving Xander a grin. Xander shivered at the sight and spread his legs
even further. When Spike moved forward, there was a moment right when he
was barely touching Xander, when he stopped. "Xan?"

"Y-yes?" he managed, trying to keep from wriggling in an effort to entice
Spike to get on with it already.

Spike slowly began to push inside. Then he leaned down and kissed
Xander's leg, which muffled his next words. 

"Wha-?" The word came out more as a yelp as Spike hit his prostate, but he
desperately held onto thought. Spike couldn't have said what he thought
he'd said. 

Could he?

A few more thrusts and his own thoughts were beginning to lose coherence. 
Finally he gave in, letting the sensations become his entire world. Letting
Spike become his entire world.

So why, in that dizzying place of sensation, he heard it more clearly this
time, he couldn't have said. But heard it he did, and it drove him over
the edge.

"I love you."

His climax exploded over him, blocking out everything else.

************
Part Fifteen

He woke up to Spike licking him again. "Isn't this where I came in?" he
joked weakly.

"Actually, you came out. I came in." Spike frowned. "All right, so it
wasn't one of my better ones. M' brains leaked out everywhere -- which was
your fault."

"Nope, can't be my fault. Since it's your fault my brains leaked out." He
wrinkled a nose. "Does this mean we're lying in a puddle of brains?"

Spike snerked. "I wondered what this stuff was." He held up a hand, a
thin cord of semen dripping down it. "Not much in the way of brains for
either of us, though."

Xander stared for a long moment. "First off, ew. Secondly, being told I
have no brains isn't a new experience."

Spike's face changed slightly, and he leaned down. Kissed him. "You," he
began, in a no-nonsense voice, "have brains in your hair."

"They have a shampoo for that, don't they?"

"Probably. Not licking it out of your hair, that's for damn sure."

"Wouldn't want you coughing up a hairball."

Spike smiled, then said with laughter in his voice, "You are gonna need a
shower, pet, before you go home. Luckily for you, I happen to have one
nearby. Complete with stall built for seven."

Xander sat up. "You going to join me?"

Spike looked around at the empty warehouse. "Think there'll be room?"

"For what?"

"Me, along with the six other invisible people in the shower." He thumped
Xander lightly on the head. 

"Oh. Right. Sorry. Melted brains, remember?"

Spike just leaned back, and held out a hand. As Xander took it, he
frowned.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Have to give you a shirt."

He looked down and saw the large stains on the shirt he still wore. "Um,
yeah. Looks like."

Spike tugged him closer, and gave him a kiss. "Good thing it's your
birthday. Now I don't have to try to find a copy of 'Caliph's Talisman'."

"How did you know I wanted-"

Spike smirked. "It's what all demonic chemists want. There's only
fourteen first editions in existence, you know." Spike was leading him
towards the rear of the factory, where Xander had never been.

"I know." Even the Watchers Council didn't have a copy; he knew because
he'd asked Giles. "You were going to get me one?"

Spike looked coy. "Don't you need a shower?"

"Hmmm....shower, priceless first edition. Shower, priceless first edition.
This is supposed to be an equable trade?"

Spike said, "No, it's 'shower with fingerpaint soaps, priceless first
edition'."

"Ah, that makes all the difference." He grinned, feeling happier than he
had in a long time.

"So? Shower," Spike said happily, tugging him along.

"Shower."

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

Spike walked across the room, fully naked, towards the chest where he kept
his clothes. The room was still warmish from the shower, but Xander was
shivering already.

Perhaps it was just watching Spike, leaning down to open the chest.

"Nice view," he heard himself saying.

Spike looked at him without standing up. "You want red, or.. red?"

"Gee, what choice. How will I ever decide? Guess I'll go with... red."

"Excellent." Spike stood up with a handful of clothing in one hand, and a
handful of something else in the other. It was a package, wrapped in--
Xander looked closer. Then laughed.

"The last time I saw paper like that it was at a 7th birthday party." It
had been his present to Jesse -- the fire truck he hadn't gotten for his
own birthday two months earlier. Jesse had let him play with it, though.

"Yeah, well, it was all I could find." Spike looked embarrassed.

"No, it's great, really." He smiled. "Thanks."

"Welcome." He handed it out. "Er, unless you wanted these first," Spike
held out the clothes, then pulled them back. "No, never mind. Want you
naked when you find out what it is."

He looked at Spike suspiciously. "Some kind of sex toy or something?"

Spike looked affronted. Which, given his current state of debauched
nakedness, looked absolutely....well, sexy. Before his body could react to
that thought, Xander turned his attention to opening the gift. Fun though
the reacting would be, he really didn't have time.

Spike leaned forward, peering down at the package then glancing back up at
Xander, waiting for him to open it. After a brief internal debate about
being careful or just ripping the paper off, he settled on the latter and
rather gleefully demolished the wrappings.

Spike took the torn paper from him, wadding it into a ball and throwing it
into the corner. "Well?" he prompted, when Xander just stared at his
present.

It was a first edition copy of Caliph's Talisman. "I thought you were
kidding," Xander said, reverently running his fingers over the lettering on
the cover.

"About your *birthday* present?" He sounded amused, faintly shocked. 
Which meant he was serious.

"You didn't even know that I'd-"

He looked up, and found Spike just watching him. "Hoped you'd...let me
give it to you. Was going to send it with Angel tomorrow, if I didn't
manage to see you tonight." He was tracing a finger along the top edge of
the book as he spoke.

Xander covered the vampire's hand with his own and met his gaze. He
couldn't think of anything to say except, "Thank you."

"Think I deserve a kiss for this one?" he asked with a slow, come-hither
and kiss me smile.

With an answering grin, Xander leaned over and obliged.

When they broke apart, Spike gave him the look again. "Think it's worth
two?"

Xander laughed. "Next you'll be asking if it's worth a blow job."

"Isn't it?"

"Next time," he promised, leaning in for another kiss. "I've got to go."

"Go?" Spike looked surprised for only a second before nodding, albeit
reluctantly.

"I'd stay if I could."

Spike nodded, then his face was split by a sudden, mischievous grin.

"What?" Xander asked suspiciously.

"If your Watcher asks where you got it, tell 'em Bork gave it to you. 
Friend of Angel's -- blame the fancy schmancy gift on him."

"Bork," Xander repeated dubiously. 

But Spike just nodded. "Friend of Angel's-- well, sort of. Owes him a
couple huge favors. It's not completely unreasonable that he'd give him
one of these to even the score." Spike blinked at his still-disbelieving,
still-confused face. "Oh, come on, Xander. Bork's a Terflig demon. 
Sometimes not-evil, and they've got their paws into a bit of everything. 
Besides, it'll be fun watching Angel try to cover for us when you say it's
from him."

"He knows you're back?"

"Um, no. Don't *think* so. But he's good at improvisation," he said with
an earnest tone that made Xander distrust him completely.

"Right." He nodded, planning on sneaking the book in and avoiding the
conversation entirely.

Spike slid closer, then, and stole a third thank you kiss. Xander finally
pulled back and quickly got dressed before that kiss could lead to a fourth
-- or something more. Spike pouted at him for a moment, then he shrugged
and dressed quickly, as well. He looked at Xander, then down at himself. 

"What?"

"All we need to do now is bleach your hair--"

"Oh no." Xander backed up, holding his hands up defensively. "No messing
with the hair."

"Just one little stripe, and we'll see how it looks." Spike reached for
his hair.

"Touch the hair and I will not be responsible for my actions."

Spike froze. "Er, in what way?" he asked, carefully.

"Squirt gun filled with holy water, springs to mind."

Spike frowned. "That would be 'bad'. What if we dyed it purple after
bleaching it?"

"Spike-"

"Red?"

"I thought you liked dark hair. Me, Drusilla. Speaking of who, where is
she?"

Spike's cheerful grin died a little. "Asia."

It was Xander's turn to frown. "I thought you were going to Spain."

"We did. She met someone, some smarmy chaos demoness. She said since I
had-- someplace to be, she'd be heading off into the wilds of Asia for a
decade or twelve." Spike had reached out for Xander, and was now toying
with the buttons of his shirt.

"She left you?" He stared at Spike disbelievingly.

Spike continued toying with Xander's buttons. "Not really. We'll find
each other again." His gaze flicked up to Xander, briefly.

Xander swallowed, wondering if he was imagining what wasn't being said.
"I'm glad."

Spike didn't say anything. He continued to play with the buttons on
Xander's shirt -- Xander suddenly discovered three of them were undone.

He covered the vampire's hands before he could totally undo his getting
dressed. "I've *really* got to go."

Spike started to push through Xander's hold, then he relented. "Yeah. 
Got a party to go to?" Once again, his face melted unexpectedly into a
mischievous smile. "If they have ice cream...." 

"Oh no. You leave the ice cream alone. Ice cream is one of the major
comfort foods."

"I wasn't going to *do* anything to ice cream. I was *just* going to say,
don't think about licking any apple pie ice cream off anyone's skin, is
all." 

He groaned and leaned his head against Spike's shoulder. "You had to go
there."

"I'm only trying to look out for you," Spike insisted. "Don't want you
choking on the ice cream, or going all flustered when someone tries to
offer a second scoop."

"You're trying to drive me crazy."

Spike hesitated, then asked, "Is it working?"

"What answer would get you to stop?"

Spike sighed. "Neither. Go on." He took a half step back, away from
Xander. "Save me a piece of cake?"

"Sure." He hesitated then offered, "You can stop by after everyone has
gone and Giles is asleep."

"Really?" 

Xander smiled shyly. "Really."

"A piece from the edge? If it's a square cake?" Spike's fingers had
somehow found his shirt buttons again. Xander swatted them, lightly.

"I'll see what I can do." He leaned in and kissed him one more time before
breaking away. At the door, he stopped and looked back at Spike. "I'm glad
you came back," he said, the closest he could come to saying what he really
felt.

The way Spike's cheerful grin melted into something else made him glad
he'd said it -- and made him think that, perhaps, Spike knew the rest.

***********

Part Sixteen

Xander surveyed the apartment. It was, to put it politely, a disaster
area. He was only glad it hadn't been *his* doing.

That is, entirely his doing. The remnants of the wrapped presents --
paper, bows, boxes -- were his doing. The icing on the wall was Willow's
fault. He looked over at Giles, who was also surveying the mess. "Call
the maid?" Xander suggested.

"This is almost enough to make me consider getting one."

"Or maybe a handy cleaning spell?" Xander looked over at Giles' bookcase. 
The left-handed one had become *Xander's* bookcase, as the two in his room
were now full. This one was almost full. How had *that* happened? he
wondered.

"Only spiritual cleansing. Sorry."

"Bummer." Xander returned his attention to the area near the couch. The
empty pizzas boxes were more or less neatly stacked -- a good place to
start, then. He'd been hoping for a few slices left over for breakfast,
but no such luck.

He had managed to save a couple of pieces of the cake by dint of cutting
them and then mock-snarling at anyone who went near the dish. Willow had
teased him about it, but he'd told her he just wanted them for tomorrow. 
Even then she'd tried to snag a fingerful of icing, until he'd hit her with
the pitiful puppy dog eyes. Granted, she'd only giggled...but she'd left
the cake alone, too. 

Now they were safely wrapped up in the fridge. Xander grinned in
anticipation of sharing them.

"Right. The food debris needs to be cleaned up tonight, but the rest we
can leave for tomorrow." Giles smiled as he moved forward and started
gathering plates up. "It was a good party."

"It was an excellent party!" Xander bounced a couple times, trying to
think of one or two of the best parts, and failing to think of anything
that had been less great than any other. "They just keep getting better
and better -- I hate to think what'll happen four years from now. Oo! Can
we go to Disneyland?"

Giles paused, and looked over at him. "Well, not right now."

"I meant for my 21st birthday. Think we'll have reached that level of
cool party by then?"

"Perhaps. I refuse to wear any mouse ears, though."

Xander stopped, and pouted at him. "Not even for me? Daddy, please?" 

Giles glanced up from his gathering. "That," he said, "is not playing
fair."

Xander blinked. "I'm supposed to play fair? I'm an only child -- Willow
always said only children are supposed to be spoiled. That means mouse
ears." He turned back to gathering trash, to hide his grin.

"I'll buy a pair for you if you want."

Xander hesitated, knowing he could very easily get Giles to cave in by
playing on his sympathies. That smacked of *truly* not playing fair,
though. He considered his other options. He looked over at Giles. "Pluto
ears?"

And had to duck the pillow that Giles threw his way.

"I'm detecting a note of reluctance," he said, then laughed at the
exasperated look Giles gave him.

"Very astute of you."

Then again, if there was ever a time to not play fair.... Xander frowned,
just a little -- enough to hid his grin. In a hurt, disappointed tone, he
said, "You just won't do it, because you know I'll take embarrassing
pictures of you to show Buffy and Willow." 

"And this is supposed to make me change my mind?" Giles smiled faintly.

Shaking his head smoothly, Xander said in a normal tone of voice, "This is
just me, practicing."

After a moment's silence, Giles said calmly, "You don't need to, you know."

"Don't need to take pictures of you in Pluto ears? Why else would I make
you buy them?"

That earned another small smile. "That wasn't what I meant."

Xander realized what he *did* mean, probably. He paused from where he'd
been gathering cups. "Would this be my cue to apologize?"

Giles shook his head. "Nothing to apologize for."

As he went back to gathering cups, Xander ran that through his mind. Did
this mean he could get away with anything he wanted, or that he was just
already good at begging for things? He suspected neither, because Giles
wasn't looking at him with like he wanted to grab onto him and not let go,
nor looking at him like he didn't know if he had the strength to endure.

The last look was the one Xander saw every time he had more the four sodas
in one day.

On the other hand, maybe Giles meant he didn't need practice simply
*teasing* Giles. Only if he'd meant that....He realised he didn't know
what Giles had meant. Didn't even know what he was trying to tease apart
from that quiet statement. He realized that Giles was still talking and
tuned back in. "-leave the rest for tomorrow."

Xander set down the rest of the cups he was holding. "Sure!" He grinned
brightly. 

Giles shook his head and smiled affectionately at him. 

With a faked-sheepish grin, he picked the cups back up. "You *said* leave
the rest for tomorrow. I *heard* you," he said as he carried them to the
kitchen.

When he came back out, Giles was waiting for him. He pulled Xander into a
hug. "Happy Birthday."

He returned the hug as hard as he could. "Thanks."

"You've been so quiet lately. It's nice to see you smile again."

Even as he started to smile again, the thought of *why* he'd been so
hyperactively happy tonight made his stomach tighten. There was no way he
could tell Giles that "Will" was back. But the other option was to lie to
him. "Yeah, I just needed a break from all that punishment," he managed to
tease Giles in a light tone.

"Is that it?"

"The cake was good, too."

Giles just continued to look at him with a faintly quizzical smile.

"And the presents." He thought of the book he'd snuck into his room, and
was unable to hold back his excited smile.

"Ah, yes, the presents. Quite an impressive haul."

"I'm gonna need another bedroom to store all my stuff." He grinned. 

"There's, um, one more," Giles said, suddenly diffident.

"Oo! Really?" Xander bounced. "These are always my favorite."

"They are?"

"Sure. You always save the-- neatest ones for last, when everyone has
gone home."

"I'm not sure this one will live up to that billing, but...." Giles took a
small gift-wrapped parcel out of his pocket and handed it over.

Xander accepted it eagerly, and wasted no time in ripping the paper off. 
He had a weird flashback to earlier that night -- book, eager gift-giver
watching closely. He blinked at the CD, and turned it over. "Is this--?"

"It's me. Singing. I thought..." He shrugged. "It was a silly idea."

But Xander had his arms around Giles' neck, before he even got past
"silly". He didn't say anything, not sure what he *could* say that
wouldn't be insensible babble. Or embarrassing. Giles was still for a
moment, then hugged him back. "It think it's wonderful. My second best
present this year." Xander squeezed his eyes shut as he heard what he'd
said. Well, he'd been thinking that maybe he'd have to ask Giles about
safe-keeping for "Bork's" book.

"Second-best?"

Another sheepish grin, this one sincere. "It kinda slipped my mind, with
the party and everything...." He let go of Giles and headed for his
bedroom. Still trying frantically to think of a way to explain it.

Giles was still standing where he'd left him when he came back.
Wordlessly, he held out the book. Giles took it. "Is this-"

Xander nodded. "Don't get me wrong. I love that you made the CD. But I
think I could buy my own car *dealership* with this as collateral."

Nervously, he waited for Giles to stop staring in disbelief, and say
something. Giles was trailing his fingers over the title reverently, much
as Xander had when he'd first gotten it. "Where did you get this?"

Xander sighed. "A...friend of Angel's. Said he owed Angel a few huge
favours, and he...um...." Xander found himself suddenly speaking very
rapidly. "I sorta only met him recently, but he gave it to me for my
birthday tonight. This is his shirt -- mine kinda got stained and I'd
bring him home to meet you, but he's not exactly human and I didn't know if
that would matter."

"By not entirely human, you mean-?"

"Terflig." He didn't know if he would have to strangle Spike, or give him
the blowjob he'd been after.

He could see Giles relax a little at that. "What's his name?"

"Bork." Oh, yeah. Strangling him. He'd never intended to lie to Giles
-- but now, it wasn't as though he could do anything but continue the
fiction Spike had suggested. Well, maybe the sex first. Then
strangulation. Although an undead, unbreathing creature could probably
have sex before, during, and after being strangled. Wouldn't quite have
its intended effect.

Giles was still watching him strangely. "And you really like this Bork."

He nodded, tried to hold himself still. Thought about what Spike had
*said* to him, and nodded again, biting the inside of his cheek to keep
from saying it out loud.

"I'd very much like to meet him sometime."

Xander froze, forced himself to relax. "I'll tell him. He-- he's kinda
skittish around, um, grown-up humans. Even though Terfligs aren't
genetically evil, they don't always have a good reputation. He's a little
shy about meeting anyone human, especially, you know, the Slayer's
Watcher." He hadn't realized he'd still possessed the ability to bullshit
at highspeed. Xander gave Giles as sincere a look as he could. "But I'll
let him know he's invited."

Giles nodded, still with that strange look. "All right."

Bizarrely, Xander was struck by the urge to...give him something. Happy
as he was about his birthday, and presents, and the CD and book, and
ecstatic as he was about Spike -- somehow, what he really wanted tonight
was to cuddle in Giles' arms. "Um, I guess...there's someplace I can keep
this? Safe?"

Visibly shaking himself, Giles nodded. "We can put it with my rare books,
if you'd like."

"Yeah. Well, *tonight* I'm gonna read it cover to cover. Tomorrow we can
lock it up. Um, unless tomorrow *you* wanna read it cover to cover." He
grinned.

"It wouldn't hurt to review it," Giles agreed, looking down at the book,
himself, again.

Xander grinned, knowing the distracted look creeping onto Giles' face. 
Then he realized that if Giles got sucked into reading it *tonight* -- he
wouldn't be able to. Granted, Spike was dropping by, but that would be at
*least* two hours from now.

Giles was opening the cover now and glancing at the index.

"Um," Xander moved forward, reaching for the book. He didn't think he'd
have to wrestle the book away, but if he waited too long he'd have to see
Giles get that disappointed look when Xander took his book away.

He watched as Giles tore his gaze away from the page to look up at him.

"Book?" he half-asked, half-whined. 

"Oh. Yes." Chagrined, Giles closed it and handed it back over. "Sorry."

Xander grinned, even as he held the book against his chest, protectively
wrapping his arms around it. "You can have it *tomorrow*. Or possibly the
day after. If you're good."

"If *I'm* good." Giles lifted one eyebrow.

But Xander just nodded, seriously. "I've already *got* the book, I don't
have to be good."

"You do need time to read it."

Xander just nodded again. "Don't worry; I'll share." He looked down at
the book. "Well, eventually." He stared at the cover -- this book was
nearly seven hundred years old. Each page preserved by a spell, the thick
paper and hand-written lines still as they were the day they'd been bound
into the book, hand-stitched into the spine. 

He realized he'd been staring at the book for several moments, and looked
back up with a jolt. Giles was smiling at him amusedly.
"I'm gonna go to bed now," he said quickly. 

"I thought you might be."

He just grinned, and headed towards his room. Stopped at the door, and
turned back. Giles was still looking at him, he raised an eyebrow in
question as Xander faced him again. "Thank you."

His guardian nodded and smiled again. "Happy Birthday."

With one more bounce, Xander turned back to his room, heading for the bed
blindly as he opened the book once more. He felt the mattress bounce
underneath him as he jumped onto it, sprawling across the covers as he
began reading.

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

Part Seventeen

He had the feeling he'd dimly heard the knock once already, when a rapping
on the window drew his attention away from the book. Xander raised his
head and grinned at Spike, who was giving him an exasperated look. Putting
the book aside, he went over and opened the window. "I was..uh...reading."

"Saw that. Good, is it?" Spike leaned forward as far as he could -- lips
first.

"Very." He grinned and leaned forward to kiss Spike.

"Good. Didn't know if you'd actually be able to read it yet -- I only got
as far as the preface when my eyes swam back into my skull. Didn't know if
that was the point -- you demonic chemists are a weird lot." 

"No swimming eyeballs so far. Must've been a vampire thing."

Spike scowled at him -- for a second, then his face lit up. "Cake!" he
exclaimed quietly. He leaned forward, looking around, and scowled again as
he hit the boundary of the window.

Reaching out Xander touched his hand briefly. "It's in the kitchen, wait
here and I'll go get it."

"Where am I gonna go?" Spike leaned against the window. 

"Right." He began backing up for the door, still watching Spike.

Spike was just leaning forward, watching him. Then he realized Spike was
*watching* him, in that "I've undressed you with my eyes twice, and I'm
trying to decide if I should dress you in leather, or just a pair of socks"
kind of way.

He felt himself blushing. "You keep looking at me like that and I'm going
to forget what I'm going after."

"Cake."

"Right." He bumped into the closed bedroom door and fumbled for the
doorknob behind his back. Spike's gaze tracked his body again, and Xander
could swear he heard the decision made for leather. He finally managed to
get the door open, but found he couldn't break away from Spike's gaze. "I'm
not the cake, so stop looking at me like I'm dessert." 

Spike looked at him, smiling slightly. "No. Not dessert."

Xander gulped. "I'll be--" He gestured at the opened door, then finally
managed to tear himself away and headed for the kitchen.

He stood in front of the fridge for a few seconds, letting the cool air
remind him that there was someone sleeping nearby who wouldn't be pleased
to find him in bed with a vampire. Then he grabbed the two plates and a
couple of forks, and went back to his room.

Spike was exactly in the same position as when he'd left and Xander felt
his steps falter under that gaze again. It made it difficult to walk
forward -- as if with each step, Spike turned up the intensity until, when
he was almost close enough to hold out his hand, moving became almost
impossible.

Spike licked his lower lip. "Cake?" he held up one hand.

"Cake?" Xander repeated.

Spike took a half-step backwards. "Yeah."

Xander stepped forward and banged his leg against the window sill. "Ow."

Spike chuckled. "Don't drop them." He moved back farther, though, then
reached out for the plates. "Give 'em here."

Suddenly remembering the plates he held, he handed them over. Spike took
them, then waited while Xander climbed out of the window. He carried the
plates as they climbed up onto the roof, where they could sit down.

"So."

Spike was still holding both plates, looking at them like he was trying to
decide how to eat them both with no hands free. Xander was tempted to wait
and see what he figured out, but took pity on the big bad vampire and took
back one of the plates. Besides, this way he made sure he got his piece.

He yelped when Spike started patting Xander's pockets. "What are you
doing?"

"Forks? Spoon? Or do I get to smear it on your stomach and lick--"

"You start doing that and I'll probably fall off the roof." He pulled out
the forks he'd gotten and handed one over. "Here."

"Won't let you fall," Spike said as he took the utensil. He hooked a leg
underneath Xander's, providing an oddly secure anchor. 

"How comforting." He'd meant it to sound sarcastic, but it hadn't come out
that way at all.

Spike just glanced at him, then took a huge bite of his cake. He chewed,
then stopped, his eyes going wide. "Chocolate raspberry with cream cheese
frosting?" he said around the mouthful.

"If you don't like it-" He reached for the plate.

Spike pulled it out of his reach. "I didn't *say* I didn't like it."

"Just so you know you don't have to eat it if you don't."

Spike gave him a dirty look. "Touch my cake and I'll tell you what you
can replace the raspberry filling with."

"Ew. There goes *my* appetite."

Spike swallowed another bite, then said, "Well, if you don't want your
piece...."

With a huge put upon sigh, Xander handed it over. "Now I know I'm crazy.
I'm voluntarily handing over chocolate."

Spike took the plate and set it down, between his legs. Returning to his
own piece of cake, he took another bite before saying casually, "Didn't
know you hated custard filling so much."

"Holy water. Squirt gun. I'm sure I have one in my room."

Spike gave him a hurt-innocent look. "What'd you *think* I meant?
Strawberry?"

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that vampires can't pull off innocent?"

"Can too."

Xander shook his head, grinning. "Nope. Not even close."

"Can." Spike took his last bite of cake, set the plate down, and picked
up Xander's. Asked him again, with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Xander nodded in permission, even as he kept arguing. "Can't."

"Can." He started to take a bite, then gave Xander a slightly guilty
look. "It really does taste good that way, you know."

"With strawberry?" He grinned.

Spike made a face. "Don't like strawberry-flavoured *anything*."

"No?"

"Not even edible underwear." Spike shuddered.

"Not even eating strawberries off my-"

This time Spike gave him a woeful look. "Sorry. I'd be happy to flick
'em off you and just lick you bare, though."

Xander sighed tragically. "Another fantasy shot down by reality."

"Melon balls?" Spike offered. "Or caramel sauce?" The second piece of
cake was disappearing rapidly.

"Melon balls." He laughed, even as he shifted nervously at the mental
picture. 

"Yeah." Spike's voice dropped. "Set 'em along your torso, after they've
been chilled. You have to keep from moving, so they don't roll off while I
eat 'em, one by one."

Xander shivered.

"And if they're in *season*, they'll be all juicy. As they warm up, the
melon juice starts dripping everywhere...."

"I'd get all sticky." When did his voice get so small?

"Yeah. Wouldn't *that* be a shame." Spike took a last bite of the cake,
and licked the fork clean. Licked a bit of frosting off his finger.

"A shame. Yeah." He swallowed hard and drew one leg up to hide the effect
Spike was having on him.

Spike set the second plate down, then leaned over to whisper, "Can smell
you, ya know. Besides which, I've seen it already."

"We're on the roof, Spike."

The vampire blinked at him, and leaned back slightly. "Um, yeah? And?"

"It's a very long way up."

"Told you, I wouldn't let you fall." He suddenly grinned. "You think
I've never made love on a slanted roof, before?"

"And how many times have you fallen off?"

"Once. But it was entirely Angelus' fault." Spike frowned. "And he
wasn't even getting any -- bloody ponce was down on the ground, screaming
up at us."

Curiously, he asked, "What was he screaming?"

"Um, something like, 'Get the hell off my roof', or some such idiotic
nonsense."

For some reason the picture of Giles standing below them yelling the same
thing popped into his head and he began to giggle hysterically. He felt
Spike's leg tense, and an arm draped across his shoulders. Without
thought, Xander leaned against him.

They sat quietly for awhile, looking out at the empty courtyard below. 
After a few minutes, Spike asked, "Speaking of Angel...did you get to blame
him for your book?"

"Only in passing. Blamed the non-existent Bork." He grinned, but still
felt a little funny about it. He didn't like lying to Giles.

"He's not non-existent," Spike protested. "He's real. A wimpy little
Terflig, jumps at shadows and has a squished nose, and everything." 

"Wonderful. Giles thinks I'm dating him." He was a bit mortified. What
kind of taste would Giles think he had?

"Oh?" Spike sounded completely, utterly, hopelessly amused. "Well, we
don't have to tell *him* that Bork's got a squashed nose. Can tell him
he's devilishly handsome, sharp wit, that's he's the big, bad-- oh, right. 
Not that part. We can tell 'em he's handsome, though."

"'We'?"

"Well, yeah! Who do you think's gonna play the role of suave, debonair
Bork? Not the *real* Bork." Spike gave him a flat look, which not entirely
hid the gleam in his eyes.

Xander saw where this was going and gulped. "No. No way. Uh-uh. Forget it."

"What? It'll be perfect. I get a little hair-dye and some putty on my
forehead -- or maybe a glamour? Go meet the old man and let him know what
a fine, upstanding young man his kid is dating."

"He's a Watcher. Don't you think he'd be able to spot that kind of thing?"
Oh, this was a Very Bad Idea.

Spike shook his head. "He won't notice. And if he does, he'll think it's
to hide other things -- like a squashy nose. Or maybe I can tell him it's
to hide my being there, from my *own* stuck-up, don't mess around with
humans, parents."

What was even worse, was that it sounded like Spike had already thought
this through. "What part of 'No' isn't getting through? And Giles isn't
stuck-up."

"He doesn't mind that you're dating a Terflig demon? Didn't even mention
you might want to try your own species first?"

"No, he didn't." 

"Really. Man has bigger wrinklies than I thought. 'Course, if he didn't
mind Buffy dating *Angel*, he can't exactly forbid you to date a packer
demon."

"If he thought I was dating someone bad for me, he would. No matter the
species." And there was the guilt again at lying to Giles and doing
something he knew he wouldn't approve of.

There was a bit of silence, marred only by the sounds of traffic not far
away. Spike squeezed him a little, and said, "If you want me to go--"

"No!" he denied immediately. Then more calmly, "No. Tried that once
already. Didn't work."

"Good." Spike sounded just as determined as Xander felt. "You want me to
have the real Bork stop by? Pick you up for our dates?"

He shook his head. That would be an even worse deception.

"OK." Spike moved a bit, then kissed Xander on the cheek. "I do get to
see you sometimes, don't I?" There was a note of uncertainty in his voice.

"Whenever I can get away," he promised. Though while he was still under
punishment that wasn't going to be very often, he thought glumly.

"S'all right, Xan. Don't mind waiting...as long as I *do* get to see you."

"You can always come knocking at my window."

"Watch you undress?" 

Xander shivered again. "Maybe."

"Watch you...sleeping?" Spike's mouth suddenly moved right next to
Xander's ear.

"I-If you want."

Spike kissed his ear and said nothing. Xander just leaned more firmly
against him with a sigh.

They stayed that way for a long time. Sitting on the roof, watching the
night go by. Eventually, the cool night air stole the last of the heat
from Xander's body -- cuddling with a vampire was no resource for heat. He
didn't have to say anything, however, before Spike asked, "Time to head
down?"

He nodded. "It was my teeth chattering that gave it away, right?"

"That and the fact that you're starting to feel cool to *me*." Spike
stood up easily, standing slightly down-slope from Xander. Xander climbed
to his feet more gingerly, trying not to picture himself slipping and going
over the edge. Spike gripped his biceps firmly. "Told you," he scolded. 
Then, "Just keep your knees bent and feet flat on the shingles."

He nodded. "Right." But he still reached out and grabbed hold of Spike's
arm, gripping it tightly. Spike walked backwards, down the roof, guiding
Xander along above him. "Shouldn't you be watching where you're going?"

"I know where I'm going," Spike replied, sounding actually reassuring. 
"Consider it a supernatural vampire power -- the ability to walk backwards
without falling off the roof." He stopped at the edge.

"Unless someone yells at you."

"Wasn't walking backwards when Angel yelled." Spike pulled Xander towards
the edge. "The wall's not two feet down, remember?"

"Right." He smiled nervously. 

Spike knelt on the edge of the roof, then he was standing on the wall
below. Still holding onto Xander's arms, easing him down to sit on the
roof. "Now. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It would be just my luck to survive everything I have only to break my
neck falling off the roof when I was a step from safety."

"Haven't you been listening to me? Said I'm *not* letting you fall."

He stared into Spike's eyes for a long moment, and saw something that made
his heart beat faster. "I think I've already fallen," he whispered.

There was a flicker of something in Spike's eyes, then a tiny grin
appeared briefly before Spike was kissing him hard. Xander wrapped his
arms around Spike's neck and kissed him back. Somewhere in the middle of
the kiss, he felt himself being lifted. Mid-air, tongue in his mouth, and
arms around his waist until something solid was under his feet again.

But he still felt like he was floating.

When Spike let him go, he gave Xander another cheeky grin. "So? Safe and
sound."

"Yeah." He grinned back idiotically.

Spike gave him a miniscule nudge. "You wanna head towards the window? Or
is this warm enough for you?"

"Almost too warm."

"Then maybe you should stay out here awhile, cool off." Spike looked him
up and down. "Could take something off."

"Or..." He took a deep breath and continued in a rush. "You could come in."

Spike blinked. The tiny grin was coming back. "I could. I'd even be
gone before dear Rupert found me here. In your bed, legs entwined, all
naked and warming," he kissed Xander, "you up."

Xander glared at the vampire. "If he did, I'd be grounded until I was 40
and you'd be dust."

"So we'll be quiet." Spike kissed him again, running his fingers
underneath Xander's shirt.

"We're still on the wall."

"Yeah? Maybe we should...get off, then."

He grinned. "Shouldn't we go inside first?"

"Yeah, reckon we should." But Spike didn't move. A gust of cold wind
came up and he started shivering again. Spike ran his hands up Xander's
arms. "You're freezing, luv."

"I no-noticed." His teeth were beginning to chatter again.

"Inside, Xan," Spike nudged him again.

He nodded and with a minimum of fumbling, slipped through his open window.
Spike stood there and watched him, a forlorn and expectant expression on
his face. Xander reached out a hand to him. "You coming?"

"Is this an official invitation?" 

He nodded.

With a half-smirk, Spike said, "Have to actually say it, luv."

"Oh. Sorry. Come in?"

With that, Spike came inside.

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

Part Eighteen



Xander stood under the shower, trying not to sing as he shampooed his
hair. He'd washed it just yesterday, at Spike's place -- but for exactly
the same reason, he needed to wash it again. It was still early, barely
sunrise, but he'd been unable to fall back asleep once Spike had left. He
figured he might as well get up, get an early start on the day. Maybe even
make waffles-- with eggs this time.

He finished showering, dried off, and got dressed in a pair of old
sweatpants and a t-shirt. As he headed down the hall, he noticed that
Giles' bedroom door was slightly open. He stopped, trying to recall if
maybe he and Spike had managed to make noise after all. But if so, Giles
hadn't said a word -- no banging on the door demanding they cut it out or
at least keep it quiet. 

On impulse, Xander snuck up to the door and peeked in. Giles was sprawled
on his back on in the middle of the bed, arms outstretched, fast asleep and
snoring softly. With a grin, Xander considered sneaking in there --
ruffling his hair and tucking him into bed, like Giles had done to him a
few times. 

He'd actually taken step inside the room, before he realised what he was
doing. He stopped. Then again...it *was* tradition, after all. Two
cakes, special gift after everyone went home, and a post-party snuggle. 
Xander crept over and carefully crawled into bed next to him.

Giles murmured something indecipherable and wrapped an arm around Xander.
All without waking up. With a happy grin, Xander snuggled in, and closed
his eyes. Breakfast could maybe wait a bit.

When he opened his eyes again an uncertain time later, he found Giles
propped up on one elbow watching him. "Um, hey." Xander tried for a smile.
"Morning?"

"Good morning," Giles replied with a faint smile.

"I was just on my way to make breakfast," he started to explain.

"Were you?"

"But then there was this spot on your bed that was all... empty. And I
remembered the tradition."

Giles lifted an eyebrow. "Tradition?"

"Yeah. Post-birthday cuddle."

He could practically see the memories of the year before flowing through
Giles' mind. "We've come a long way in the last year."

Xander looked around. "Looks like the same spot to me," he said
off-handedly, though inside he warmed at the thought. Not just that he had
come a long way -- but that Giles had noticed.

"Actually, I believe it was the couch last year."

"Oh." Xander thought back, wondering why he'd thought he'd forgotten that
part. "Felt the same," he offered, and pushed himself upright. Breakfast
would be a good choice right now, he told himself. Breakfast and safer
thoughts than those beginning to sneak into his brain. 

"Cuddle over?" Giles asked with a raised eyebrow and a slightly
disappointed expression.

"Breakfast calls." He gave Giles a pout, as though being pulled away by
the call of homework, or mopping. 

Sighing, Giles sat up. "I forgot for a second: never get between you and
food."

"Well, if it's carrots, yeah. Get between me and them all you want. In
fact, I'd consider it a parental duty to defend me--" Xander started
towards the door, hoping to get out of range of a pillow before--

Too late. It got him in the side of his head. He caught it as it fell, and
took it with him. Muttering came from behind him and he grinned as he
headed for the kitchen.

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

The next evening, Xander came home late -- compared to his curfew of late.
Buffy had asked Giles to let him accompany her on patrol -- she'd promised
there would be no fun had, no goofing off of any kind. She'd confessed she
wanted someone to help her study for a chemistry test and, not
surprisingly, Xander was her best choice.

Though his current grades didn't reflect it -- they'd suffered during his
foray into deliquency, and still hadn't completely recovered -- he *did*
know his stuff. Even in the mundane variety. Xander had gotten permission
to patrol with her by pointing out that *he* needed to get a good grade,
himself, if he hoped to pull his average up.

The fact that he'd let Giles have the Caliph's Talisman to read while he
was out had had nothing to do with it. Well, mostly nothing. Giles hadn't
called him on the bribe, however. Given him a look that was quickly erased
by the absorbtion as he opened the book Xander had handed him.

Now, as he headed up to the apartment, he wondered if Giles would be
willing to return it yet. He heard Giles speaking to someone as he made it
to the door, his words muffled by the wood. He opened the front door, and
stopped. Stared. Dropped his jaw on the floor.

A grinning Terflig demon stood up from where he'd been sitting on the
couch, being served tea. A Terflig demon with Spike's eyes.

Xander was going to kill him.

"Hi, Xan," Bork said in a decidedly un-Spikelike manner. Shy and nervous.
Bork glanced over towards Giles, "I hope you don't mind that I came over."

"Mind? Why would I mind?" He let his gaze stare wooden stakes at the
disguised vampire.

But Bork just shrugged. "Since you told me you'd be with the Slayer this
evening -- did you kill anything fun?" Spike's pleased voice bled through
the hissed voice of a Terflig, for a syllable.

"Not yet."

There was a faint smile, then Bork's face composed itself neatly into a
harmless little packer demon look of attentive politeness, and he handed
his tea cup over to Giles. "Thank you for the tea, it really was lovely."

"You're welcome," Giles replied taking it. "It's always nice to meet
Xander's...friends."

Spike smiled, graciously. "As I was saying, before Xan arrived, I'd be
happy to bring you some of grandpa's old journals. He was at the Battle of
Terwin, used to ramble on about it for days."

"That would be most generous, thank you." There was a light in Giles' eyes
that always shone at the chance of acquiring new knowledge.

Spike smiled, gave Xander a look that said, quite clearly, 'aren't I
good?' 

What the look Xander shot back said wasn't repeatable in polite company.
"But you have to be leaving now, don't you *Bork*?" 

"No, actually, I can stay." 

"But-But you have that...thing. With..y'know."

'Bork' gave him a slightly perplexed look. "Your da's invited me to stay
for dinner."

Xander shook his head minutely. He felt bad enough about lying to Giles
without rubbing his face in it and actively doing it all through dinner....

"If you'd like, I don't see why the two of you can't...go out for a
while," Giles said quietly, suddenly reminding Xander that there was
someone watching their conversation. Hopefully, not too closely.

The generosity just made Xander feel worse. But he still took advantage of
it. 

"I don't want to impose on Xander's, um, schedule," Spike said with a
uncertain tone that anyone who wasn't Xander would have bought.

"No impostion," Giles said. "Besides, it looks like you two need to talk."

Spike gave Xander a wide, Bork-smile. His nose, he suddenly noticed, was
a little squashed. "Great! When do I need to have him home by?" Spike was
moving forward, ready to hustle himself and Xander out the door as soon as
he had the answer>

Giles considered for a moment. "Eleven. Since you've got school tomorrow."

Spike nodded. "Eleven." He paused, then, in front of Xander -- who
hadn't moved to let himself be hustled back out the front door. "Xan, luv?"

"Yeah." He hesitated for a moment, turning back to Giles, who was being so
nice to him while he was lying to his face. He was surprised the guilt
didn't rear up and swallow him whole. "I won't be late," he managed, then
turned and walked out before he could say anything else.

Spike remained silent until they reached the parking lot, then, with a
glance back towards the apartment, laughed. "Bloody hell! That was fun. 
You're right, he's not stuck-up...tight-assed prick, perhaps, but--"

Xander broke in bitterly, "You enjoyed yourself? Good. Glad you had fun
making me feel like shit."

The vampire stopped, and stared at him. Mouth gaping open, the glamour
washed away like cheap make-up in the rain. "You said you couldn't date
someone you couldn't introduce to your guardian."

"And you thought this would make it *better*? By making me lie to his
face?"

"But now you don't *have* to. Sneak out and lie to him where you've been.
What, you'd rather I showed up like this? Told him you're shagging a
vampire who *doesn't* have a soul?"

Xander wrapped his arms around himself. "He would've staked you if you
had."

"Yeah? And if he hadn't met 'Bork', how often d'you think we'd have seen
each other before he realised you were up to something? Seeing someone you
were ashamed to tell him about?"

"And this is better?" he repeated, misery filling him displacing the anger.

"What's *wrong* with it? What did *you* actually say to him that was a
lie? 'Yes, this is my friend Bork'?" Spike was still staring at him,
looking angry, as well. And confused.

"You don't understand."

"So? Explain it. What did I do that was so wrong? Giles thinks you're
dating a fine, upstanding young demon, and we get to see each other." He
shrugged.

"I'm lying to him. Not just by omission, like before. But actively."
Xander's lip curled up in self-loathing.

For a long moment, Spike stood there. The confusion in his expression
died, a little, replaced by blandness. Xander suspected it was hiding a
thoughtful look and had no idea why he'd hide such a thing. Finally, Spike
said, "So, you want to stop lying to him. But you won't tell me to leave."

"Tried that." Xander laughed humorlessly. "Hurt too much."

Spike nodded. "Right, then." And he turned.

Walked toward's Xander's front door.

Xander grabbed at his arm. "Where are you going?!"

Spike just looked at him, an odd sort of calm on his face. "Going to tell
him. Since that's the only other way out of this dilemma of yours."

"No!" Xander tightened his grip. "He'll kill you."

"Not if he thinks you- like me. He'll try and talk you out of it, but
he'll give me a chance. Or you -- he won't kill me for just *saying* it."

"You don't know that." In his mind was the image of Giles beating his
father viciously for hurting him. "He'll do whatever he has to if he thinks
he's protecting me."

"I wasn't going to tell him I'm a danger to you -- I'm *not*," he added in
a soft and peculiar tone.

"I know," Xander answered softly, "but he doesn't."

Patiently, Spike asked, "Then what do you want?"

He sighed. What he wanted he couldn't have. What he could live with was...
"I want you in my life. I want to lie to Giles as little as possible and
still have that."

Spike considered this, and Xander, silently. Then, in a careful tone,
said, "So how, exactly, does this mean you have to lie to him more than as
little as possible? He's met me, he's happy -- now I avoid him and you can
be as vague or detailed as you like about what we're up to."

Xander regarded him suspiciously. "No more tete a tetes over tea?"

Spike looked back at him, with what looked like genuine repentence. 
"Promise."

He took a deep breath. It wasn't perfect and he knew he was still going to
hate himself for lying...but it was livable. "Okay."

Spike was still looking at him, worriedly. Spike reached up and touched
his chin, briefly, as if unsure his touch were welcome. "M'sorry."

With a sigh, Xander stepped forward and hugged him.

Spike returned the hug, then looked at him, head tilted sideways. "So are
we still...going out?" There was, oddly, no underlying leer in his
question.

He nodded. "Yeah. If I go back now I'd have to explain why."

Spike slid his hand down to grasp Xander's, loosely. "You want to go
someplace? Or sneak back to my place and I can apologize all over again?"

"I think I'd like to see what you condsider apologizing," Xander replied
with the beginnings of a grin.

"I'll have you know I'm very *good* at apologizing," Spike said with an
air of offense. "I happen to have a lot of experience at it. Er, you
don't like birds, do you?"

"Birds as in feathers and wings or birds as in women?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Song birds. You know, put 'em in a cage and they
flutter around til you forget to feed 'em and they die? Because I know
where I can get one, real cheap."

Xander shook his head confused. "Why would I want a songbird?" The
confusion lifted as something occurred to him. "This is a Dru thing isn't
it?"

"Spent a lot of time apologizing for insulting her way of taking care of
her birds. My fault she needed a new one every week? Or jewelry; know
where I can get you something nice."

"My father used to buy me stuff when he was apologizing," he heard himself
saying. "Back when he still bothered to apologize."

Suddenly he was being held again, close. Spike's arms wrapped around him,
he could feel one hand against the back of his neck. However, Spike said
in a cheery voice, "Could just keep saying 'I'm sorry', if you'd rather. 
Or--" he sounded as if the thought had just occured. "Would you prefer I
strip you down and suck you clean?"

Xander shivered at that last. "That was what I was thinking," he answered,
doing his best to keep his voice steady.

Spike moved back a tiny bit, and pressed a kiss onto Xander's lips. For a
second there was just that: a monent of tenderness, cool night air and a
dog barking at the world. Xander let himself slip deeper into the kiss,
briefly -- confused when Spike pulled back abruptly.

"Right, well, if I have to have you back here by twelve, we'd better get
started."

"I thought that was what we were doing. And it's eleven."

"Here? In the parking lot? Well, all right," Spike moved to kneel in
front of him. "Thought it was eleven thirty."

"E-eleven," Xander stammered, his brain unable to decide whether to push
Spike away or encourage him.

But he'd waited too late, Spike's fingers were already at his zipper,
holding onto the pockets of his jeans as he balanced on the balls of his
feet and his knees. 

Right in the *middle* of the parking lot. At, what, seven o'clock? 

"If I get arrested for public indecency, I'm going to be grounded until
I'm 80," he pointed out, but couldn't bring himself to stop what Spike was
doing.

"Don't get arrested, then," Spike said, then he was unable to say much of
anything. Vampire speed, Xander managed to think to himself, before his
brain cells began short circuiting in that age-old 'someone has his mouth
on my cock' way. He wondered who was holding him up.

He felt hands gripping his hips tightly; oh yeah, Spike was holding him
up. Which was only fair considering he was the reason that Xander needed
holding up in the first place. He heard himself groan and quickly stuffed a
fist into his mouth to keep from making noise.

His head fell back, threatening to roll *off* when Spike kept...or
started...or something, Xander wasn't entirely sure exactly what was
causing all those sensations. Tongue, mouth, fangs, god knew what else --
it was fast, and almost furious. He felt something scrape the under-side
of his balls, and he bit his hand.

It couldn't last, not with what Spike was doing and the added spice of
worrying about being caught. He came with a muffled shout. He felt the
press of Spike's tongue as he swallowed, mouth firmly still grasping him. 
It was enough to make him want to throw Spike down and take him again,
right there, laws and decency and Giles coming out to see what the fuss was
all about, be damned.

"Spike," he gasped, asking for more or asking him to stop, he didn't know
which.

He felt a tongue running the length of his cock, then heard a light smack
as his lover pulled completely away. "Yes?"

Xander stared down at him for a long moment trying to remember how to
talk. "Apology accepted," he finally managed.

"Oh." Spike blinked at him, looking perplexed. There was a tiny smile
fighting its way across his mouth as he said, "Hadn't gotten to that part,
yet."

"Yet?"

With a measuring look at his groin, Spike said, "I said 'clean'. You are
not clean. There's," he pulled Xander's jeans open a bit, peered inside,
then pointed at something. "There's a spot of sweat."

"Oh." The part of his mind where common sense resided was screaming, "Not
in the parking lot!" 

"No, in your jeans. With the rest of you -- except a couple dangling
bits. Why would the parking lot be sweating, anyhow?" Spike must not have
expected an answer, because he ended his question with a lick. Two licks.

"Spike!"

He heard a small, very cute voice ask, "What? Don't I get to apologize?"

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

Part Nineteen

It appeared as though the universe had decided to pull the cosmic carpet
out from under his feet, again. He'd managed to get caught up on all his
schoolwork, including his dem chem class -- but before he could so much as
breathe, his English teacher assigned a paper.

It wasn't fair. Xander glanced across the room to where Giles was sitting
on the couch, reading something and writing notes in a large notebook. He
knew he'd get no sympathy for complaining about being forced to read The
Illiad for school -- especially since Giles had thought it a perfect
opportunity for him to practise his Greek.

Everyone *else* got to read it only in English. He considered getting his
revenge by writing his paper in Greek -- but he suspected Giles would
consider this as a sign he was ready to start another new language.

"How is it coming?" Giles asked, not looking up from his own studies.

"If I could remeber how to conjugate 'kakos' properly, I'd be using it to
describe this paper."

"It's going well, then."

Xander gave Giles a dirty look. "It is *not* going well. I have to have
this paper finished by Tuesday!" He looked back down at the mess of notes
and half-begun outlines written and scratched out and written in again.

Giles looked at him consideringly for a moment. "Would you like me to
help?"

Xander immediately gathered up his pencil and papers, and held them out. 

Laughing, Giles got up and came over to sit beside him. "I will take that
as a yes."

"Can I just tell you what brilliant obversation I want to end the paper
on, and let you take over from there?" 

"Is that what you do with Willow?"

"Um?" Xander gave him a cute look. Willow's, actually. "No?" It had
been a while since he'd been scolded for letting Willow do his work for
him, when he was able to do it, himself. Willow would be mad if he got
them scolded again, now.

"Are you asking me?"

He shook his head. "I'm trying to figure out how much trouble I'm going
to be in if I say 'mostly' and then you ask Willow not to help me with my
papers and she yells at me for making you scold her. I want her to help me
with my dem chem experiment -- I need her to do a version of an experiment
with magic, so I can compare it as well," he explained quickly. "Not asking
her to do my experiment, I was just curious."

Giles considered for a moment. "That would be legitimate assistance."

Xander nodded, encouragingly, hoping that Giles would turn his attention
back to the present paper, and away from interrogating him about how many
of his papers in the past had been merely re-copied into his own
handwriting. Truthfully, not many -- otherwise he'd have had been earning
As and Bs his whole life.

Of course, Willow *was* awfully good about dumbing down a paper to reflect
the apparent author.

"Just keep in mind I am not Willow." Giles pushed the papers and pencil
back towards Xander.

He went for another cute look. "Does this mean *I* have to write down
what you say?"

"This means I'll help you figure out what *you* want to say."

"How is that 'helping'?" he muttered, as he picked up the pencil again.

"You can do this, Xander," Giles said patiently.

He sighed. It wasn't often that Giles resorted to actual,
straight-forward encouragement. It was fighting unfair -- like calling a
certain person 'Dad'. "But I'd rather watch soccer on ESPN." He hadn't
been able to do anything slacker, for *weeks*. 

"Football," Giles corrected absently. "You have been working hard. All
right. You can have the evening off -- after you finish this."

"Really? And it is not, it's soccer. Football is the one with pads and
helmets and cheerleaders." Then he frowned. "That means I have to *finish*
this today! This afternoon -- didn't *anyone* ever tell you about putting
homework off til the last minute?"

Ignoring that question, Giles asked, "How much have you got done?"

"I did my math last night. And my history yesterday morning, and I was
working on the parameters of my experiment Friday night, with Willow." He
shifted uneasily in his chair. "And I was on the phone with Bork for a
couple hours yesterday, and I went on patrol with Buffy and made breakfast
this morning and cleaned the kitchen afterwards...." He found Giles looking
at him.

"Have you at least read the book?"

"Three times." Was it his fault it was a good book, especially in Greek? 
Was it his fault Spike knew the Greek alphabet and they'd taken turns
reading bits out loud while swapping footrubs?

Giles looked a bit startled and then quite pleased. "This shouldn't be too
hard for you, then."

"But--" Mrs. Denton wouldn't appreciate a paper describing the sensual
aspects of the Illiad when applied to seducing an already relaxed and
willing boyfriend, he was sure. And nothing else came to mind when he
thought about what he had to say about it.

"Start with the basics. What was the story about?"

"The Trojan War. The human one."

Giles nodded encouragingly.

"The Trojans and Greeks are fighting because Paris stole Helen and
Menelaus and Grokjer want her back. Um, wait, Grokjer wasn't in Homer's
version."

"You have been doing your research."

Xander got out a fresh piece of paper for a new outline. At the top, he
wrote, 'No Demons'. He looked up. "Was Achilles a demon?" He didn't want
to explain that Angel had been the one to mention Grokjer, because it had
been part of a lecture about trusting Spike.

"That could be an interesting question for your paper -- metaphorically
speaking."

"You don't think Mrs. Denton would let me do it, though." He sighed. 
"All the interesting stuff comes out of the messers Krubic and Dusinisq'
treatise of the war, though." Then he flinched, and looked up guiltily. 
"Or so I've heard."

Giles smiled. "Your problem seems to be you know too much."

"This is a problem?" For over a year, now, Giles had been after him to
learn *more*. No one had warned him there would be consequences, making
his schoolwork *harder*.

"You're making this more complicated than it has to be because you're used
to having to come up with something you don't already know."

Xander sat for a moment, before conceding his only response to that could
be - "Huh?"

"Answer me this without thinking about it first. What is the book about?
Not the storyline but the reason it was written."

"Stupidity."

"Why?"

Xander tried to reason out his impressions. "They were all fighting each
other, and the gods weren't helping a bit, picking sides and goading them
on. But...I guess it was stupid because they were fighting each other. 
Not anything actually evil."

"There's your thesis, then."

Xander blinked. "Oh. You sure you don't wanna be writing this down?" He
held out his pencil.

Giles smiled faintly and shook his head.

With a sigh, Xander looked back down at his new outline-to-be. "Can I
watch soccer now, and write this tonight? So I can ruminate on my thesis?"

"You don't need to ruminate. You have all the answers. If you delay you'll
just end up trying to complicate it again."

"But the Brazilians are playing this afternoon," he grumbled, even as he
dragged his copy of the Illiad towards him. Underneath 'No Demons', he
wrote 'Stupid Humans, a Treatise'.

"I'm taping it."

Xander looked up, for a moment utterly surprised. Then he grinned. "You
sneaky librarian, you. They're playing Italy, aren't they?"

"I do believe they are." 

"And do we have a bet on this game with Ms. Calendar?" He gave Giles a
Look.

Giles suddenly seemd to find the ceiling extremely interesting.

"Do we need to have our little talk, again, about gambling?"

Still not looking at him, Giles muttered something almost inaudible.

"Rupert?" he said again, in a very nice approximation of his grandmum's
voice. 

That earned him a glare.

Xander folded his arms and looked stern. "I don't give you an allowance
so you can fritter it away with frivilous and..and...damn, I need a
thesaurus."

"Are you through?"

"Depends. Did you make a bet on the Italy/Brazil game? Because Brazil is
so totally going to beat Italy, and that means nyah nyah for your hope that
England will get to be one win ahead of Brazil."

"You know, you sound remarkably like Jenny."

"So you *did* make a bet on the game." 

"Just a small one."

"And you realise that when you lose -- again -- you're going to have to
listen to us both cackling?" Xander smiled, triumphant because he'd not
only put off working on his paper for a few minutes, but because he could,
finally, tease Giles about Jenny again. They weren't back together, might
not be for a while yet. But they were acting like friends again.

After the last soccer bet Giles had lost, they'd all gotten to go see
Monster Trucks.

"Actually I'll only have to listen to you cackling. Not that I'm going to
have to."

"Huh? Don't tell me you convinced her England should win. No, wait -- if
you did, why would she bet against you?"

"Jenny's leaving at the end of the school year."

Alarmed, Xander sat up straight. "Leaving? why? What--" He choked off
the demand to know what Giles had done. 

But Giles heard it anyway. "What did I do?" he finished with a faint smile.

Xander bit his lip, and didn't nod. "Um, I meant, why is she leaving?"

"Her uncle is ill. She's going home to help take care of him."

"Oh." Xander felt a little cheated. He'd been sure something more than
that was-- He looked at Giles more carefully. "Is that what she told you?
Or what you're telling me for my own good?"

"Am I lying to you, you mean?" 

Oops. Xander backpedaled. "No, I mean -- is a conveniently sick uncle a
sufficient reason so you don't have to tell me the rest?"

"Xander." Giles caught and held his gaze seriously. "I promise you, if
there is ever something I can't tell you, I will be honest about it."

Slowly, Xander nodded. Felt that awful sick sensation in his stomach that
made him want to confess everything -- if he didn't know he would lose the
two things he needed most, if he did. Giles' respect. Spike. In his
mind, he heard himself returning the promise; he kept his mouth closed.

Because he couldn't.


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

The End