Author: Maude M.
Feedback: Please :)
Website: http://www.popslash.net
Distribution: List Archive. Others, I would be honored. Just let me know where.
Pairing: Giles/Xander
Rating: Big Time R.
Spoilers: The Gift
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, Fox, and the WB, etc., etc., amen.
Summary: Xander has a bad, bad habit.
Warning: This is pretty dark. Includes drug abuse and character death. Consider yourself warned!
Notes: Hues of Bliss has shamefully been stolen from a poem by Thomas Gray.

Giles awakens to the sound of Xander crying into his pillow. He flips over, laying a hand on the boy's bare back. "Xander? What's the matter?"

Giles can feel Xander's shoulders shake as he tries to stifle his cries. "Nothing. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Don't be sorry. Tell me what's wrong." The bedcovers have come untucked from the foot of the bed, and Xander kicks, trying to get them back over his feet. Giles sits up and pulls the sheets back down to the end of the bed, then pulls the crying boy into his arms. "Please," he pleads again. "Talk to me."

"It's so stupid. I was just thinking about this cartoon."

"A cartoon upset you?"

"Yeah. It's stupid."

"No it isn't."

Xander rolls onto his back, and blinks back his tears. "I saw it this morning. It was this claymation dog and it was searching around the house for his owner. It goes in the bedroom, and looks under the bed. It's goes in the living room, it opens doors, and everything is empty. And there's this song...this sad, sad song, and this dog never finds his boy. It was so hopeless. This boy must have gone off to school or something, but he might as well have been dead, for all the dog knew."

Xander finishes his story and the silence in the room is vibrating in their ears. Presently, the sound of the clock ticking from the hall begins to creep in. Giles hasn't the foggiest idea of what to say to Xander. "It sounds dreadful."

"And you know...the bad part is that the boy doesn't even think about the dog. He's just away at school doing his own thing, thinks his parents have everything taken care of. But that dog's just pining away. And one day he'll come back. He'll come back, and the dog will just be crazy-happy, think his boy is back from the dead, and he'll just leave again. But it'll be all the worse, because now he's leaving on purpose. Now the dog knows that the boy is leaving on purpose, and that he's not important enough to go with him. And that'll hurt worse than before."

Giles feels his chest clench, and a sharp breath escape his lips. He smoothes the hair out of Xander's eyes, thinking wildly about what this all means, what he could say to make sense of this and comfort the boy. "Nobody is leaving you, Xander. Nobody."

"I don't care!" he sobs. "I just want the boy to take the dog with him!"

"It's just a cartoon, Xander."

"I know! I know, I know, I know..."

"Shhh..." Giles breathes, trying to reassure him with dry lips across Xander's wet forehead. "It's ok. Shh..."

"I can't fix it. You can't fix it. Nobody can fix it, and now it's on film, and it's forever."

"Shh, shh, Xander," Giles presses his lips against Xander's, even as Xander continues to babble, his lips catching all of the pained words that continue to spill from Xander's tear-stained lips.

"I can't fix..."

Giles slips his tongue into Xander's mouth, stopping the flow of words, feels Xander's soft, wet tongue against his own, feels the tiny flicker of movement that indicates that the panic may be coming to an end. There it is: a sigh, a shrugging sigh that lets the words go, lets the worry go, and allows Xander to concentrate on being kissed.

Giles thumb against Xander's cheek, wiping away the last of his tears, then his mouth moving lower, to kiss Xander's throat, then the crook of his collarbone. Xander's cries have turned to soft moans, and this is encouraging, very encouraging, so he continues, moves along Xander's shoulder, to his bicep, when Xander suddenly jerks away, turning over onto his side and holding his arms tight across his chest.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Giles gently places a hand on Xander's shoulder. "Look at me."

Xander turns back over, his arms still folded, and his jaw set. Giles realizes the problem, and peels Xander's arms apart, revealing the scars, the track-marks on the inside of his elbows. "Is this it?"

Xander looks away. A confirmation.

"Don't be ashamed of this. Don't hide yourself from me," Giles reprimands him gently, lowering his lips and kissing Xander's inner elbow. "You need never hide things from me."

***

It might not have happened, but for that damned dog cartoon. Xander just can't get it out of his mind. As he sifted through a pile of invoices at work, he noticed the paper becoming smeared and blotchy with his tears. During dinner, as he was trying not to think about it, it hit him again, and he ran into the bathroom before Dawn and Giles saw him crying over this.

The thought of patrolling with Spike was unimaginable. "I just can't do it tonight. I have to go help my friend pack. Yeah, he's moving."

This is the first lie. But he isn't thinking about lies or truth or love or consequences as he tightens the belt around his arm. All he can think of is that damn dog, and his boy, and how in just a few moments he won't care. Xander relaxes as the needle breaks into his vein. "Fuck cartoons..."

***

The second lie is to Giles. It seemed like an easy enough question, asked over baked chicken and green beans. "How was work?"

"It was fine."

It was not fine.

Fifteen minutes after eight, his boss' pointy-faced secretary called him away from the stack of invoices he had been coding. He was ushered into a little antechamber next to his boss' office and instructed to wait. He knew what was coming, but all he could do was pick at a crackled bit of vinyl on the garish yellow chair on which he sat.

"Come on in, Harris."

Xander tentatively stepped into the wood-paneled office. His boss perched himself precariously against the desk as he motioned for Xander to sit down, which he did, in another vinyl chair. "What's the...

"I suppose you know why you're here, Harris."

"Not really, I..."

His boss picked up a yellow paper from the desk and flicked it with his forefinger. "This is your lab report from last week's drug test."

Xander looked down at the linoleum floor. He said nothing.

"You'll have to pack up your desk and go. I need your key to the office back."

Numbly, Xander fumbled with his keys, separating the two halves of the tight ring with difficulty, then removed the brass office key. He pressed it into the waiting palm, then stood up to leave.

"I'm sorry to do this, kid. You know I always liked you. I know you had things rough. But I can't have you wandering around a construction site high. You'll get yourself killed."

Xander paced to the door.

"You need to get yourself some help. Some real help."

"Just fine," Xander repeats himself.

"Good, good. Dawn? School?"

He waits until they are safely behind the closed door of Giles' bedroom before bringing up the subject again.

Giles begins to unbutton his shirt, and Xander is immediately behind him, wrapping his arms around him, threading his fingers through Giles' and making the unbuttoning process a great deal harder. Xander's wet lips are on Giles' neck blowing puffs of hot air against his skin.

Giles makes a contented noise, a half-laughing noise that Xander finds comforting. "Giiiiles..." He whispers.

"Hmm?"

Xander manages to unbutton the rest of Giles' shirt and peel it over his shoulders, leaving his hands to rest gently on Giles' bare chest. Xander grazes up his neck, stopping at his ear to bite gently on the lobe. He pulls Giles over to the bed, and they fall down together, Xander curling into Giles' side and resting his head on his naked chest. "Giles," he repeats again, softly.

"Hmm?"

"I think I want to quit my job." A hand roams down, grazing over Giles crotch, eliciting a small rise in the hips.

"Why is that?"

"I'm not really into the whole construction thing anymore. Not since they won't let me build things. I think I'm going to quit." Xander removes the glasses from Giles face, sets them on a bedside table.

"Where will you work, if not there?"

"I don't know. I could work at the shop."

"I already have Jennifer. I don't really need any more help."

Xander's face falls. "I have some money. I'm not going to just sit here and leech, or anything. I'll find something else."

Giles lowers his head to press his lips against Xander's temple. "Don't be ridiculous. I wasn't implying that at all. I was just thinking that perhaps you *don't* go back to work immediately and take some classes at the university. You needn't worry about money."

Xander thinks a moment. "You make me feel safe. Like nothing bad is gonna happen, and I'm not going to screw up." This isn't a lie.

"I'm glad for that."

***

For a moment, Xander thinks about his previous two attempts to detox. Remembers time standing still as he was caught in a cycle of vomiting, screaming, overwhelming fear, and the almost constant wish to just die. He wonders if he could possibly go through that again.

This is what he considers as he tries to find a nice, hidden vein; the ones on his arms are beginning to look suspicious, and the last thing he wants to do is worry Giles. He settles on the one behind his knee, then proceeds to inject himself.

He comforts himself. He isn't doing it nearly as much as he had before. He's keeping it far away from them. He...oh, what the fuck. Bliss.

"Xander? Xander? Are you okay?"

He blinks a few times, forces his eyes to remain open. Dawn stands over him, hands on her hips. "Hey, Dawnster."

"Are you alright?"

"Ya, I was just taking a nap, you know."

"On the dining room floor?"

Fuck. When did he go into the dining room? "Well..."

Her eyes open wide, a flood of realization washing over her. "Oh my god. You're high. You are *so* high."

He sits up, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "I am not high, I just don't feel so good."

"Oh, whatever. You are such a liar. Your eyes look all crazy. God, Xander!" She bursts into tears, futilely attempting to cover them with her hands.

Xander raises a shaking hand to her, which she waves off angrily. "I swear..."

She looks at him as she wipes the tears from her cheeks. "Who do you think you're fooling? You are talking so slow...you...Don't lie to me!"

He doesn't know what to say. "What are you going to tell Giles?"

She half-laughs. "Oh, I see. It doesn't matter if you hurt me, but Giles...well."

His hand flies up, combing through his hair, then locking on a fistful in frustration. "That's not what I mean, Dawn! Goddamn it. That is not what I mean. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

She thinks for a moment. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm not going to tell Giles..."

"Thank you. Oh my god, thank you. I won't touch it again..."

"You didn't let me finish. I'm not going to tell him, but you are going to give me all of your shit right now. And I'm going to flush it. And then you aren't going to do it anymore. Because, you are going to tell me where you are at all times. And you aren't going to be alone, at all. I don't care if you have to hang out at the Magic Box all day, or at the grocery store, or with Spike, but you are going to be around people," she says this with a look of cold determination. Her tears have dried, and her eyes now gleam fiercely, in a way that reminds him of Buffy.

"You can't tell Spike. He'll..."

"You don't get to tell me what I can or can't do."

"Giles is going to know. You know how sick I was..."

"I'll figure it out." She points in the direction of the bedroom. "Let's go get it. I'm getting rid of it before Giles gets back."

Xander manages to get to his feet, leads her silently into the guest bedroom, and stops at the dresser. He pulls the bottom drawer completely out of the dresser, and lying underneath is a bone-yard of drug paraphernalia. He pulls out a handful of packaged hypodermic needles, as well as a few used ones, two burned spoons, a handful of cotton balls, a bottle of lemon juice and one of rubbing alcohol, and finally, four small plastic bags filled with brown powder.

He looks back up to Dawn to see her staring with a blank expression on her face. "It's true, isn't it? This is real. You are big-time into this shit."

Xander looks away. "I guess."

"I-I knew, but I didn't know. I mean...this is like TV. Like some after-school special gone wrong. 'My Dad's Gay Lover is on Smack' or something." She stared down at the pile of drug-gear for a long moment before throwing her arms around Xander's neck. "Oh, god, Xander. What happened to you?"

She buries her face into his shoulder, and he just holds her, wraps his arms around her slender torso, she's so tiny in his arms. He feels her hot tears through the thin fabric of his shirt, and he presses his cheek against hers. "I don't know," he repeats. "I don't know."

Presently, Dawn untangles herself, wiping her face on the sleeve of her shirt. "I'm just going to take care of this before Giles gets home. You sleep."