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.

This is it. This is the last night on earth. Xander is coming down, and it's a very bumpy ride. He sits in a corner watching the clock on the wall, watching Giles face scrunch up and relax as he pours over a book. Dawn sits at the table, working trigonometry problems with a grave expression, and Spike is pawing through a Guitar Center catalog with a cigarette hanging from his lip.

This is it.

Soon, maybe tomorrow, Spike will know. Dawn will tell him, and he will make good on his threat. Xander never doubted him for a minute. The horrible part is that Xander isn't so much scared as relieved. No more hiding, no more sneaking, no more hurting anyone. No more pain. No more worrying. No more fear.

He's sad, that's true. He's going to miss seeing Dawn become more of a woman. He's going to miss the way that she sets her jaw when she's mad, and the way that her hands immediately rest on her hips when she's determined. He already misses the adoring way she looked at him before all this hurt. He's going to miss seeing Buffy live on through her.

Giles.

He'll miss Giles. He'll miss the way that Giles rolls his eyes every time he's called "G-man." He'll miss these unimaginably boring research sessions, in which the only thing that Xander can derive pleasure from is stealing glances at the back of Giles' head. He'll miss the way that Giles always seems to know when he's having a nightmare, and soothes him back to sleep with comforting words. He'll miss kissing Giles: the way that every single kiss seems just a bit wicked, like he's the naughty boy getting away with something. He'll miss the simple act of removing Giles' glasses; so intimate, it's Giles stripped, Giles blind, Giles in his hands.

Despite everything that Xander has become, everything that he's done, Xander is proud of loving Giles. And prouder still of Giles loving him, even if isn't in the same way.

"I'm going home," Xander announces, suddenly unable to bear the silence.

Dawn immediately stands up. "I'm going with you."

Giles looks from one to the other. "Well, let's just all go. It's getting late."

Spike looks up from his magazine. "S'not even nine!"

And for a second, just a tiny blip on the radar screen of life, Xander understands Spike. He, at this point, is just as much a walking corpse as Spike ever was. He understands what it is be around life but no longer a part of it. It is a very isolated state of being.

"I don't feel well," Xander mumbles as he makes his way out of the shop.

Giles calls back to Spike. "Yes, well, you're welcome to stay. Just lock up when you leave."

***

Once home, Xander begins to panic. Not an outward panic yet, but the kind of panic that is dying to have its name screamed at the top of your lungs. The kind of panic that will erode your insides until you do. But it also the kind of panic that doesn't paralyze, it allows you to brush your teeth, take your shower, button your pajamas; as long as you are silently screaming the entire time.

The possibilities race through his head. Beg Dawn to plead for his life. Tell Giles. But Spike is right about this one, and it wouldn't be fair to stake him for it. But it's his last night on earth, and Xander has to prove something. That it hasn't all been for naught. That once there was someone named Xander and even though he had his problems, he was a good man.

So he slips off into the study, locks the door, and picks up the phone to dial a number he hasn't dialed in a very long time. Three rings. "Hello?" says a sleepy female voice.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Xander?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"It's so good to hear your voice. It's been..."

"A long time, I know."

"How is everyone?"

"Oh, they're great. Dawnie is kicking ass in school, and of course Giles and Spike won't let her anywhere near a stake. Giles is the same, you know. All tea and tweed and books. Spike is keeping Sunny D safe from the nasties, if you can believe it."

"I can believe it."

"And how's Tara?"

"She's great. She gets a little bit better every day. She's not so afraid of strangers, and we can go to the grocery store now, and the movies, if it's not crowded. She's good. You'd be real surprised."

"I'll bet I wouldn't. You're taking care of her, right?"

"Oh, Xan. I really miss you. Why did you stop calling me?"

A long pause. "You know...I've just had some things...going on." For a moment, he thinks he might burst into tears and tell her about the whole mess, but he takes a long breath and collects himself. "You know me, the attracting of demons and the fetching of donuts. All of the usual grind."

"Well that's great to hear."

"I've just been thinking about you lots, lately. About when we were kids, and everything was simple. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I do. I think about that a lot too. I miss your Snoopy dance."

"I've been thinking about dogs lately...Do you remember my dog, Wonder Woman?"

He hears laughter on the other end of the line. "Yes! Your mom tried to get you to call him Superman, because he was a boy, but you wouldn't listen."

"Yeah, I thought Linda Carter was a babe. Do you remember what happened to him?"

"Hmm...didn't he get sick...or no, your Dad made you give him to your uncle, not Rory, but that other one."

"I thought so. Do...do you think that he took good care of him? My uncle, I mean?"

"I couldn't say Xander. I'd like to think he did."

"Me too."

Long silence. "Xander? Is everything okay?"

His voice cracks, but he quickly regains control. "Yeah, you know. I just saw this stupid cartoon, and it made me all nostalgic for Wonder Woman. I just wanted to see if you remembered him."

"Yeah. Yeah I do. He was a good dog."

"Thanks Wills. I have to get back to...stuff."

"Can we keep in touch more? I really miss hearing from you. Tara would love to talk to you too."

"Sure, sure. You can catch me at Giles', if you want."

"You're staying with Giles?"

"Yeah...just temporarily, though."

"Maybe you could come stay with us sometime."

"Maybe. Hey look, I need to run. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye Xander."

"Bye Wills...I really...bye."

Giles is already in bed when Xander returns to the bedroom. "Hey G-man."

Giles rolls his eyes. "Hey yourself."

"I just talked to Willow. She says that Tara is doing a lot better."

"That's wonderful news. And how is Willow?"

"She sounds great."

Giles pats the bed, indicating for him to lie down, but Xander just sits perched on the edge of the bed. "Giles, what do you think I would have been if I had been born in some other town, with no Slayer, no vamps, no Hellmouth...you know? Some regular town."

Giles marks his place in his book and sets it on a nightstand. "Well, I don't know. I suspect you would still be building things. Carpentry, construction, the same thing, I suspect. People who are inclined to create with their hands generally do not ignore it. Perhaps you might have been a sculptor."

Xander turns to look at him. "A sculptor? You think so?"

"Well, perhaps, but there is nothing in the world wrong with construction. I could imagine deriving a great deal of satisfaction, seeing the fruits of your labor at the end of the day. That's something that other occupations are little afforded."

"I like that," Xander says.

"Come over here, Xander."

Xander doesn't move from the foot of the bed. "Giles..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"For this. For taking care of me, and helping me, and...this." Xander waves his hand around the room vaguely.

"There's nothing to be thankful for. I took care of you because I love you. I'm here with you because I love you."

"Yeah, but not in the same way that I love you."

"Don't say that. Don't think that any of this is because I pity you."

"It doesn't matter. Either way, I'm grateful. I just want you to know that. I love you, and that's on a zillion different levels. I just don't want you to be doing anything that makes you uncomfortable."

"I'm not going to lie to you and say that thinking of you in this way hasn't made me uncomfortable in the beginning. But I realize that I love you for the man you've become."

Xander feels Giles leave the bed, then sit down next to him. Xander immediately drops to his knees and rests his head in Giles' lap, feels Giles fingers in his hair, a strong hand on his cheek. "What's got you so upset, Xander?"

Xander just shakes his head. "I'm just having trouble remembering who I used to be. When I was normal."

"You're normal now. You are the same person."

"Just tell me. Tell me how I was."

Giles is very silent for a minute. "Well, you were always cracking a joke. Generally something about tweed, or my being British, or something else of the like. Oh, and such sarcasm. You could teach a class, Xander. But it was so good-natured. And you were very awkward with girls, although if now is any indication, I can see why..."

Xander laughs a bit at this, and waits patiently for Giles to continue.

"Let's see. And you were unsure of yourself. You thought you were the donut boy, but you were so much more. Simply the most loyal person I have known. Utterly protective towards your friends, you'd have taken a bullet for any of them."

"I remember him a little, I guess."

"He's still here."

"But I don't know him, now."

"I do."

***

It has been a bad day. A Sunday, so Giles has been at the shop, and Dawn has been home with Xander, helping him with the shakes, and the vomiting and the utter depths of depression. He is lying on the bathroom floor when he hears heavy footsteps, not Dawn footsteps, not Giles footstep, but heavy boot-clad footsteps.

Spike opens the bathroom door and stands silhouetted against the lit hall. Xander opens his eyes, and squints. "Jesus. Is it nighttime already?"

"That it is."

"I was wondering when you'd get here."

"Expectin' me, were you?"

"Yeah. So where's Dawnie? We can't do this with her around."

"Sent her to the store. Got your bags packed and waitin' in the car. Let's go, git."

Xander nods, glad that it won't be obvious what's happened. Maybe they'll just think that he's left to be a street-junkie or something. He struggles to stand, placing a steady hand on the counter, then feels Spike hoist him by the middle to his feet.

The walk to Spike's car is wordless. Xander, accepting his fate, simply slips into the passenger seat and shuts the door. They drive to an area of town that's rather familiar to Xander, one where he could go to score if he was unable to reach his regular dealer. They stop behind an abandoned warehouse, and Xander asks, "Here?"

Spike nods.

Xander doesn't get out of the car right away. Instead he asks, "Do you feel bad about this at all?"

"S'not a matter of feeling bad about it. S'what I have to do. You and me, Harris, we never *liked* each other, but it's not like I'm gonna enjoy doin' this. I'd have left you be for the rest of your miserable little life, but no. Well, who knows, if I got the chip out, but that's besides the bleedin' point. You had to become a bloody junkie, and make Dawn frightened. This is your fault. Get out, and let's do this." Spike says. He gets out of the car and slams the door angrily.

Xander steps out of the car, bare feet against the dirty pavement, and proceeds to vomit right onto the street. He's not sure if it's the shakes, or if it's fear of death. It doesn't particularly matter.

"For god's sake, pull it together Harris, so we can do this."

Spike remembers to take Xander's bags out of the car, and then pulls him by the arm into the dirty warehouse. He throws Xander's bags on the ground,and instructs him to sit. "I got a pressie for you."

Spike reaches into his pocket and pulls out several small packets. Xander is utterly horrified that despite the fact that Spike means to kill him with the drug, he is relieved that he will, at last, be getting a hit. "So you want me too..."

Xander sits on the hard concrete floor and Spike tosses the heroin to him. "How much of this do you usually take?"

"Um, half of this," Xander indicates a baggie.

"Let's do three, just to make sure."

"But that'll..."

"Exactly."

Xander sits on the floor a moment, staring at the bags, contemplating the irony of spending the last few minutes of his life with Spike, and that Spike won't even be the one to kill him. "What if I say no? What if I just leave? You're chipped, after all."

Spike shakes his head. "Do you really think I wouldn't come after you? That I couldn't kill you another way? Oh, you'll die, you just won't know when. How could that possibly be better? Your things are in your bag, let's get going, Harris."

Xander wordlessly opens his bag and retrieves his belt, a spoon, a lighter, a large syringe and a bottle of water. Carefully he begins cooking his gear. There's so much that he has to cook each bag separately, loading each dose into the syringe, one after the other. As he finishes the last batch, he loops his belt around his arm, and looks up to Spike.

"I know you can't tell them straight out, but if you can think of some better way to do it, will you tell Dawn I loved her? And Wills? And tell Giles...tell Giles...tell him I love him and I'm sorry and I wish I was stronger and it's not his fault, 'cause he'll think it is, and it's not. And tell them it's for the best, because I'd have just gotten worse, and worse, and they wouldn't have wanted to see that. Tell them that I'm sorry I let them down. Tell them that, will you?" He yells up to Spike, his face streaming with tears. He knows there's no way he can ever tell them this, but maybe if he just thinks it hard enough they'll know. Maybe they'll know.

Spike nods solemnly, and Xander thanks him for the lie. Xander tightens the belt with his teeth and plunges the syringe into his vein. Flushes as the warm liquid crawls up his arm. Pulls the syringe out and is overcome by bliss.

*End*