Giles isn't overly concerned. Something is the matter, but not enough to panic. The others haven't even mentioned it yet, so it cannot truly be a problem.

Yet.

He stares at Xander over the edge of his cup. Pretends that he's taking a long sip of tea; pretends that he's not staring. Lets the hot liquid burn his upper lip, but this distracts Giles only for a moment. It's not time to worry yet.

Xander is fidgeting, to put it mildly. Drumming the fingers of his right hand against the coffee table while pushing his left hand back through his hair. Repeatedly. Bouncing his knee up and down at a fantastic rate. He becomes aware of his state every once in a while and stops for the briefest of moments. Then right back to constant motion.

Giles isn't the only one who notices. "If you don't quit shaking your bloody leg, I am personally going to rip it off and beat you to death with it." To punctuate his threat, Spike grinds his cigarette into Xander's arm.

Spike clutches his head as the chip administers the obligatory jolt, and Xander screams and jumps to his feet. "Screw you, Spike! Screw you!" He clutches his burned arm, and runs into the kitchen. Dawn hastily shuffles into the kitchen after him.

Giles stands up and glares at the vampire. "For god's sake, Spike. That was completely uncalled for. Please leave."

Spike looks irritated. "Not my fault if he jumps around like he's got bugs under his skin. Got him to stop, didn't I?"

Giles sighs. "Yes, yes, you did, but I'm not going to tolerate your childish behavior. Regardless, I think we're at a good stopping point. Let's continue this tomorrow."

"Fine," Spike stomps out the front door.

Giles waits for Xander to emerge from the kitchen, and when he does, he's holding an ice cube to the burn. He uses his forearm to push a brown curl out of his eye and looks around the room. "Where did he go?"

"I think we can just end things early tonight."

Xander shrugs, pulls on a jacket that's recently become a couple sizes too large for him. "Cool. See you tomorrow."

Giles clears his throat. "Xander..."

Xander's hand is already on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"You know...that if you ever need...anything..."

Xander tosses him a crooked grin. "What could I need?" He leaves.

"I have no idea."

***

Giles is officially concerned. Xander missed patrolling with Spike the night before and cannot be reached by telephone. He stands outside Xander's apartment pounding the door furiously. "Xander! Are you in there?"

No answer.

"I'm going to call the police if you don't open this door!"

Not a sound.

Giles reaches into his jacket for his cell phone, but becomes distracted as he notices Xander's doormat. Surely he wouldn't be foolish enough to...he is. A silver key, right under the doormat. This in and of itself causes a new wave of fear to wash over the Watcher. If Xander has been careless enough to leave a key under his doormat while living on the Hellmouth, then what other foolish things might he have done?

Afraid of what he might find, Giles turns the key in the lock and takes a breath as he enters Xander's apartment. "Oh, dear god."

Broken light shines into the room from a number of twisted vertical blinds that cast a series of fractured shadows. Giles steps carefully over the mounds of trash and dirty clothes strewn about the floor and makes his way to the bedroom. He flicks the light switch on, but the only thing he sees is the continuation of the mess from the living room.

His stomach clenches as he turns to the bathroom. He pokes the door open with a tentative finger. "Xander? Are you in here?"

Before actually stepping inside, Giles turns on the light and sees Xander sprawled, face down and bare-chested, on the cold linoleum. "Xander? Oh god, Xander."

He drops immediately to his knees right next to Xander's unconscious body. As gently as he can, he turns Xander's head towards him; slaps the cold skin of Xander's cheek lightly. "Xander, can you hear me?" He leans down close, positioning his ear directly in front of Xander's nostrils and feels a tiny puff of breath hit him.

With shaking fingers, he retrieves the cell-phone from his jacket and places the call to 911. The operator is polite; asks him a series of questions he doesn't have the answers to. She says that the ambulance will be there in a few minutes.

But a few minutes is an eternity when someone you love lies unconscious on his bathroom floor. In shock, Giles paws through Xander's bathroom cabinets until he locates a washcloth, which he drenches in cool water. He dabs at the boy's face, wiping sweat-plastered hair out of his eyes, and a small trickle of vomit away from his mouth.

He knew something was wrong. Xander never missed patrol.

He attempts to roll Xander onto his side, hoping that it might make breathing easier, when he sees it, and all the pieces fall into place.

The belt lying next to Xander on the bathroom floor.

The spoon in the sink.

And now this. A hypodermic sticking into Xander's stomach, at a most precarious angle, apparently from falling down onto it.

Giles allows a whimper to escape his mouth. It's a whimper for his boy. It's a whimper for not realizing sooner. It's a whimper for being unable to control the situation.

He knows that the paramedics will figure out what's happened to Xander. But dammed if they will see him with a needle sticking in his stomach. Giles yanks the needle from him with a fierce tug, and tosses it behind his back, hears the clatter of plastic and metal against the fiberglass bathtub. He goes back to stroking Xander's face with the washcloth.

***

He will wake up. The doctor said as much. This is Giles' mantra as he sits in the darkened hospital room, staring at nothing in particular, entranced by the beeps and drips of the machines hooked up to the boy.

An hour after placing a call to the school, the door opens and Dawn pokes her head in the room. "Oh my god, is he okay? What happened?"

"Dawn, I told you to go straight home." Giles strides to the door and steps outside.

"You can't just call and tell me there's been an accident and then expect me not to come. What happened to him? Is he okay?"

"He...that is to say, he cannot have visitors yet. And, yes, he will be fine."

Dawn glares up at him, attempting to maneuver her way into the dark hospital room. "What happened?"

"He had an accident. A fall. Hit his head against the counter." Giles doesn't want to lie to her, but how can he possibly explain what he's seen to Dawn. Dawn who has looked up to Xander, held him as a hero.

"I want to see him."

"You can, but not now," Giles says firmly. "Is Spike waiting in the car?" She nods. "I'm going to stay with Xander. Have Spike stay with you at the house."

"I don't need a babysitter..." She flings her hair back and places her hands upon her hips in a staunch manner.

"Dawn, I truly do not feel like arguing over this. Here is twenty dollars. Eat junk food, and try to limit the amount of trouble you get into. Please."

"Can I see him tomorrow?"

"We'll see."

***

When Xander finally awakens from his drug-induced coma, he is disoriented and frightened. He sits up in the hospital bed and stares at the tubes running in and out of his body.

"Giles? What the hell?" Xander asks, blinking his eyes many times.

Giles is over at his side immediately. "How do you feel?"

"Bad. Like I've been hit by a truck. Thirsty."

Giles pours a cup of water from a small plastic pitcher and holds it to Xander's lips. "Better?" Xander nods. "Do you remember...anything?"

A wave of color washes over Xander's face, and he shakes his head. "No. But I guess I probably..."

Giles clears his throat. How can he say this out loud? What he's seen in the last twenty-four hours has barely begun to sink in. He decides to be direct. "Yes. You overdosed."

Xander turns his head away sharply, and lets out a breath. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and chokes several times before he can actually form the words: "N-no. I didn't. I've been sick is all. The flu. I was probably dehydrated."

"That wasn't bloody dehydration I saw, boy. I found a needle stuck in your stomach." Giles says, attempting to keep his tone even.

"I don't know how..."

"Even a blind man could see what was going on in that bathroom."

"But you don't understand..." Xander's hands cover his face in humiliation.

"Oh, I understand I drug addict when I see one, Xander."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." he says numbly.

Giles places a warm hand to the side of Xander's face, turning his head back gently. "Don't be sorry. Please don't be sorry. Just tell me that you'll get help. That you won't do this again. Please tell me."

"I'll get help. I promise."

"If you would have just told me..."

"How could I tell you something like that?"

Giles face is staunch. "You can tell me anything. Anything."

***

"I can't go there," Xander insists. They have been at this for an hour.

Giles is tired. Not only has he been arguing with Xander, but he's also spent the better part of the night alternately helping to clean up vomit, and calm down the rather unstable boy. "Xander, this is the best program in the state. You'll have your own room. You can call whenever you like. They can and will help you get better. Please give it a try. If you hate it, we can figure something else out."

"No!" Xander shouts in frustration. "I'm not some junkie that you can just stick in one of those places!"

Giles grabs his hand firmly. "I know you aren't." He says nothing for a long moment. "Xander, you're going to have to do this. I've been speaking with a social worker, and they're insisting. If you refuse, they will put you in a state hospital. They are very, very unpleasant places, indeed. This is truly your only option at this point."

Xander's eyes widen in horror. "They're going to lock me up in a *mental hospital*? With the paint-chip-eating, bugs-under-my-skin, lookit-me-I'm-Jesus people? No thanks. I'm not crazy; they can't put me in there. I have rights. Rights and liberties, and all kinds of constitutional things."

Giles paces across the room and back. "They won't put you away, because we will check you into the program we've discussed. If you don't like it, I will take you out of it after ten days. That's all you have to do, ten days. Then you can come home."

Xander apprehension has lessened a tiny bit. "What about my apartment? Work?"

"I will take care of all of that."

"Ten days?"

"Ten days."

"What's wrong?" Dawn asks, not bothering to look up from the book she's been reading.

"Xander's left without telling anyone," Giles says as he gathers up his keys and jacket.

"Left where? The hospital?"

"I need you to watch the shop for a while. I'll be back...shortly," he says, not bothering to answer her question.

It is only a matter of minutes before he finds himself, for the second time in two weeks, pounding on the door of Xander's apartment. "Xander! I know you're in there!"

There is the sound of shuffling, doors closing, and then the door opens. Xander stands sheepishly in the doorway. He looks ragged: his eyes darkly ringed, his hair a mass of tangled curls. "Giles, hey, I was going to come by later. Scooby meeting tonight?"

Giles' jaw drops at the shock of seeing Xander back...where he had found him. "Xander! You left the program! Without telling anyone!"

Xander turns away. "My ten days were up. You said I could come home after ten days."

"Yes, I said that, but I thought we'd discuss it first."

Xander frowns and takes a step back. "You aren't my dad, you know. Even if you were, I'm an adult. You can't tell me what to do."

Giles narrows his eyes. "I realize that. But I care about you, and I am not going to lose another...I am not going to let you harm yourself."

Xander says nothing, but Giles positions himself in front of the boy's frowning face. "Are you high right now?"

Xander's mouth opens in protest, "Of course I'm not high! I just got out of *rehab*. How stupid do you think I am?"

"I don't think you're stupid at all. But you are, apparently, a drug addict, and I have been too stupid to notice. Let me see your arm."

Xander backs farther into his apartment. "Ok, listen. Maybe I just popped a couple of painkillers, but only because I've been so sick in rehab."

Giles follows him step for step. "I want to see your arm. I want to know if you've injected yourself with anything."

Xander frowns and crosses his arms tightly across his chest. "Don't you trust me?"

Giles manages to place himself in front of the boy and hugs him tightly. "Yes, I trust you. But not about this. Roll up your sleeve."

Xander struggles away from Giles and backs into the hall. "You don't need to look."

"I think I do."

"Please. What do you want me to do? You know what you're going to see. It's the Trainspotting home game: Ewan McGregor sold separately. There. Happy? I admitted it. Cross step five off the list of 12. Do I really have to show you?"

Giles sighs and adjusts his glasses. "No, no, I suppose you don't." Somehow, he'd assumed that if he could just get Xander into rehab, the rest would work itself out, but now Giles realizes that Xander's problem is even worse than he'd once thought. He again reaches out to Xander, and wraps his arms around him.

"I'm sorry," Xander mumbles into Giles shoulder. "I missed you. I missed you so much. I just wanted to come home."

"I know," Giles says, patting the boy gently on the back. "Go pack some clothes."

Xander tenses back up. "I'm not going back there."

"No, you aren't. You're coming home with me."

***

Xander is in the process of putting his belongings into the guestroom when Giles sits Dawn down at the kitchen table. "I have to tell you something. Xander wasn't in the hospital because he hit his head."

Dawn rolls her eyes. "Duh. You don't stay in the hospital for two weeks if you just have a concussion."

Giles frowns, wishing suddenly that he had told her the truth from the beginning. "Do you know why he was in the hospital?"

Dawn looks in the general direction of the guestroom, then back to Giles. "Well, he's been seriously strung out for I don't know how long, so my guess is that he finally OD'd."

The Watcher's expression goes from grave to shocked. "You knew Xander was on drugs? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't ask me. You treat me like I'm a kid. I'm old enough to drive a car. And why does Spike have to stay with me every time you can't?"

Giles realizes that she's trying to change the subject, but addresses this nonetheless. "I thought you liked Spike's company."

"I do," she admits. She's silent for a few moments, considering her guardian. "I guess I just figured you knew, and we weren't saying anything about it."

Giles rounds the table and stares out a window. "Since when do we operate that way?"

"Since when don't we? Ever since Buffy died, and everyone..."

"Please don't."

"Fine, this is me not saying anything."

***

Giles is sure that this night won't end. Xander is in Hell, and it isn't the kind of Hell that any amount of magic could bring him back from. Only time. At 2:30 a.m., Giles realizes that this hellish night has lasted no less than three days and shows no sign of ending.

Xander is once again hunched over the toilet bowl; vomiting nothing but the water that Giles has forced him to drink in order to prevent dehydration. He heaves violently, his sobbing and retching echoing from the porcelain bowl and resounding throughout the room.

Xander hasn't set foot outside the bathroom since yesterday. Giles has laid out several pillows and sleeping bags in an attempt to keep Xander comfortable between episodes, but as Xander cried out earlier, there weren't enough pillows on the planet to make him comfortable. Giles sits with his back against the counter, wiping wet strands of hair away from the boy's face as he continues to heave.

The bathroom door opens a crack, and Dawn pokes her head inside the room. "Do you want me to take over for a while?"

Giles shakes his head, but before he can utter an answer, Xander begs, "NO! Giles don't go!"

Dawn ignores Xander and looks to the Watcher. "Do you need anything?" Again, Giles shakes his head. "Um, is it okay if I have Spike come over? I'm...a little scared."

Giles is hit with a pang of guilt. He's been neglecting her as he tries to keep Xander sane. "Of course, Dawn. Please do." She withdraws and closes the door with a soft click.

Xander is crying. Hard. He heaves some more, and Giles wipes his mouth. "Please, please, please, please..." he chants over and over.

"What, Xander, what do you need?" Giles lays him back down on the sleeping bag and speaks in soothing tones.

"Please, you can't just expect me to quit cold turkey! I can't do this; I'm going to die! You have to give me something! They gave me medicine in that place!"

Giles wipes Xander's face with a cool cloth. This is about the hundred and tenth recitation of this particular speech. Sometimes he extols the virtues of the replacement drugs he got during the program, other times Giles is lambasted for sending him off in the first place. Giles knows it's of no use to argue. "I know. I know. Shh...."

"Giles..."

"Shhh...how would you like to take a nice hot shower?"

"Don't patronize me! Don't fucking patronize me!" Xander beats his fists on the linoleum.

"Sorry, sorry..."

"I don't want a stupid shower!"

"I know. You don't have to have one."

"Can you turn off the light?"

"Yes."

Giles turns off the light, leaving only a tiny nightlight shining in the corner of the room. There is a long stretch of silence as Xander fights to get comfortable. His eyes open and close repeatedly, and his fists bunch the nylon of the sleeping bag.

"Giles?"

"Yes, Xander."

"Can you lay down with me?" Xander asks in the tiredest of voices.

Giles nods, and settles onto the sleeping bag nest next to Xander. Instinctively, he pulls the boy into his arms and lays a series of tiny, reassuring kisses and words on his damp scalp. He feels the boy begin to relax. And for the first time in the last three days, Xander falls into a sleep that lasts more than an hour.

***

They've made it out of the bathroom. On the fourth day, Xander manages to control the vomiting, and is moved into the living room to watch television. ("I just need to concentrate on something. Even daytime television beats the crap out of what's going on in my brain right now.")

Giles managed to get him into the shower, and even more miraculously, managed to take one himself. Xander did, however, insist that he remain in the bathroom for both showers, making for an awkward situation. The boy now lays on the sofa staring at the cartoons flickering on the television, as Giles sleeps in a recliner.

At some point, Spike stumbles downstairs from the guestroom that Dawn has put him in. Xander hides under his blanket; tries to make himself as small as possible, but Spike sees him despite this.

Spike lights up a cigarette and seats himself on the loveseat. "So, goin' for that heroin-chic look?"

"Fuck you, Spike."

"Fag?"

Xander narrows his eyes. "I don't smoke."

Spike snorts. "That's perfect. The junkie that don't smoke. 'Scuse me while I bathe in the irony."

"I'm not a junkie."

Another snort. "Whatever you say mate."

"Fuck off."

Spike clucks his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. Has one little bout of the shakey-shakeys and starts swearin' like a sailor. Rather unbecoming."

"What the fuck are you doing here anyway?"

"Got as much right to be here as you do, you bloody git. And while's I'm here, I'm going to say somethin' to you," Spike crosses over to where Xander lays on the couch, grabs him by the collar of his pajama-shirt, and jerks him. "I'm only goin' to say it once, so you better soddin' listen. If you do anything, anything that ends up hurtin' my girl, I will kill you, chip or no. Do you understand? Not one, bloody thing. You don't steal, you don't come here high, you don't do anything. You've already shaken her up with this little stunt, but it ends here. I hope you understand this, because I ain't repeating it, and you only get one chance."

Xander pulls away from Spike's grip with a sneer. "Whatever."

Spike goes back to his seat and his cigarette. "You gotta have an addiction, smokin' is the one to have. Tastes good and the ladies love it."

Giles awakens to a knock at his bedroom door. "Come in," he calls sleepily.

He blinks his eyes and makes out a Xander-shaped outline in the doorway. "Giles...I'm...scared. Can I sleep in here?"

Giles clears his throat. "Yes, of course."

Xander, wrapped tightly in a number of blankets walks to the opposite side of the bed and lies down on top of the comforter, facing away from Giles. Giles lays immobile for a moment, reflecting on the boundaries that have dissolved between them during the course of this ordeal.

He hears sniffing from the Xander-side after a few moments. "Xander? Are you all right?"

Another sniff. "Yeah, sorry Giles."

"Don't be sorry." He turns over and stares at the boy's back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

There is a long period of silence. "It's just...everything is so depressing. And it's never going to be normal again," his voice breaks on the last word as the tears become more audible.

Giles places a firm hand on Xander's shoulder through the blankets. "I know you think that now, but I promise, it's not going to be like this forever. Once your system is..."

"I'm not talking about my system!" He hiccups. "I'm talking about everything! It doesn't ever get better! Buffy's been dead for three years and nothing's been right since she's gone! Willow and Tara left, and Anya left, and now it's just us...Who's next? Dawn? Spike? You? I don't want to do this anymore! It's too hard! Every time I lose someone, another part of me dies. But the loss doesn't numb me; I have to carry around that pain,that empty, dead part of me, every day. They may all be gone, but the hurt never goes away."

Giles doesn't know how to argue with that. It's true. Nothing has been the same. Not a damn thing since Buffy died, and one by one they kept dropping off. Maybe this is why he has to try so hard with Xander. Maybe he has to try and stop things before they were all gone. "I know. I know it's hard. I am so sorry. I wish I could just erase everything. Make everything the way it was before."

Xander cries harder. Giles hasn't said the right thing. There is no right thing to say.

***

Dawn pretends to be interested in a magazine, but intently listens to the conversation that Xander is having in the next room.

"Right."

Pause.

"I totally see that."

Pause.

"You were? But I didn't..."

Pause.

"Yeah. I get that."

Pause.

"Yeah."

Pause.

"I know. I'm just trying to get my life straightened out."

Pause.

"I know it's not. And that's not what I want. I promise you that..."

Pause.

"I know I have. But this time is different. I have a lot of support. They aren't going to..."

Pause.

"Yeah, I can see that. But if you'll just give me another..."

Pause.

"I see. I know it is."

Pause.

"Really? Because that's all I need. One chance."

Pause.

"I won't, I promise. Thank you so much."

Dawn can hear the click of the phone returning to the handset. Xander appears in the living room a moment later and flops down into a recliner. "Hey Dawnster."

"Hey," she replies, pretending to be reading her magazine.

"Watcha reading?"

"Marie Claire."

"Ooh! Can we do the quiz?"

"That's Cosmo," Dawn says looking at him pointedly. "Was that your boss that you were on the phone with?"

Xander clears his throat and looks down. "Yeah. Yeah it was."

"Are they going to let you have your job back?"

"Sort of."

Dawn frowns, discarding the magazine entirely. "How can you sort of have your job back?"

"Well, they are going to let me come back in two weeks, and I'll be on a probation period. And I won't be doing what I was doing before. They aren't going to let me around the equipment for a while." He says this without looking up from the ball of lint he's picking off of his sweatshirt.

"Oh. Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened?"

Xander sighs. "What happened when?"

"What happened with you? Why did you start shooting up?"

"I don't know if I should..."

"Goddamn it. Nobody tells me anything. We just walk around ignoring everything, and nobody ever says anything. This is stupid," she shouts, picking up her magazine roughly and stomping off.

"Dawn! Come back here."

"What?"

"I'll tell you. Sit down and I'll tell you." Xander runs a nervous hand through his hair, as Dawn sits back onto the couch, arms folded.

"I'm sitting."

"Ok so...Why I started. Well, I guess it's because I just can't handle living in this place. Everyone either leaves or dies, and it really hurts."

"Lots of people live here and they don't all do heroin."

"I know. But I mean, everything just went to shit after Buffy died. First we lose her and then Willow and Tara..."

"That's not fair. You know they had to get Tara help."

Xander sighs and stares at a wall. "I know. But still, there they go, and then An...Anya leaves me..."

Silence.

"You know? And it's not like anything around here ever slows up when one of us takes off or dies! It's just more, and more and more evil. And we have to stay. We have to fight it, and everything is just losing people and death. So, I guess the short answer is that I want to leave, but I can't: I can't leave you and Giles, and I have to keep fighting, and I was just found something that made things go away for a while. Just long enough that I could stomach another day in this place."

Dawn was silent for a long moment, watching Xander hold his head in his hands. "But we all have to live with that."

He looks up at her; smiles weakly. "I know. You guys are good at it. Spike doesn't have a soul, so he can care less about all the death. Hell, he digs it. You: you're part of Buffy. Courageous is your middle name. And Giles.... well, Giles is Giles. He isn't afraid of anything. What am I? I'm the donut-boy. And there's less and less people to buy donuts for."

Long pause. "So I guess getting clean must suck. You screamed a lot."

He smiles embarrassedly and nervously picks at his lint. "Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry about that."

"You called Giles a buttoned-up English Prick."

"Yeah. I guess I did."

"It was kind of funny."

"Yeah."

"You keep saying all this stuff like it's still happening: You can't stand living here, you want to leave, you can't leave. You still feel this way?"

"I guess I do."

"Are you going to do it again?"

"I hope not."

***

"Giles, are you gay?"

Giles spills his cup of tea onto a desk littered with invoices. As the brown liquid begins to seep into the papers, he mops at it with a stack of napkins he pulls from a drawer. "Dawn! Why are you asking such an absurd question?"

Dawn sighs and hands him another handful of napkins from yet another drawer. "You know, it's cool if you are. I mean, I knew about Willow and Tara and stuff."

Giles looks her squarely in the eyes. "What makes you think that I'm gay?"

She shifts uncomfortably. "I guess...I just thought...I mean, Xander always sleeps in your room, and..."

Giles flushes. "Dawn, I thought that I explained to you why Xander sleeps in my room. He gets very frightened at night, and since he's off the drugs..."

"He's been off of the drugs for two months," Dawn says simply.

Giles is stunned. Has it actually been two months? It seems...It must be right. "Well, some people adjust much more slowly than others."

In a stance that's entirely comprised of hands placed on hips, Dawn asks, "So if I'm scared at night then Spike could stay in my room?"

"Oh, dear god, Dawn," Giles spits out in horror. He is absolutely stunned for a moment or two at the thought of Dawn and Spike... "Please tell me that you and Spike..."

Dawn sighs. "No."

"Oh thank god. You don't...have those kind of feelings...towards Spike, do you? It is, of course, perfectly natural that at a certain age..."

"Oh, just stop Giles. No, I'm not sleeping with Spike. No, I don't want to sleep with Spike. I am just trying to prove a point."

Maybe she's right. Maybe Giles doesn't give her enough credit for being observant and mature. "I do see your point. Thank you, for bringing it to my attention."

Giles is left pondering the situation for the remainder of the day. As evening approaches, he becomes increasingly apprehensive; knowing that it would only be a matter of hours before he has to send Xander away from his bedroom. It makes for a very awkward dinner and subsequent Scooby meeting.

At ten o' clock, just as he usually does, Xander walks through the door with his arms full of blankets. "Hey," he says simply.

"Xander," Giles says as he removes his reading glasses and marks his place in the book he's reading, "Please sit down for a minute."

A panicked look crosses Xander's face, but he obediently sits at the edge of Giles' bed. "What's wrong?"

"I truly do not want you to get the wrong impression, or think that by any means I am just cutting you loose... well, what I want to say is that, perhaps, tonight, you might sleep in your own bedroom."

Xander's eyes widen and he takes a sharp breath. "You want me to go back to my apartment?"

Giles sits up next to him, puts an arm around the boy's shoulder. "No, no, of course not. I'm just suggesting that, for tonight, you sleep in the guest room."

Xander looks down. "Oh, okay. Yeah, I get that. You want some privacy, and all. I get that. Cool, then. I'm going to let you sleep. I'm sorry that I'm bothering you. I never meant to bother..." His voice trails off and cracks; he makes a motion to stand up.

Giles' stomach turns, and he just wants to hold him. "Xander. It's nothing like that. You are not a bother to me, not at all. I just think that it might be...healthier, if you began to sleep in the guest room."

"Oh, yeah. I guess. Yeah. You're right. I. Yes. Night, Giles," he says in a whisper gathering up the blankets he's spilled on the floor.

"It looks a little improper, you see. Dawn has asked questions and..." Giles is beginning to sound as flustered as Xander. He reaches down and tilts Xander's chin towards him. "Don't be hurt by this. Please."

Xander looks him in the eyes and says, "I love you, you know."

Giles feels a weight on his chest and a knot in his stomach. Something tells him that Xander's love might not be the familial variety. "I love you too, Xander."

Xander slowly sits back down on the bed and tentatively lifts a hand; placing it on Giles cheek. He rubs a small circle with his thumb, and as Giles' eyes shut, Xander moves closer, pressing his lips against Giles and making just the very smallest of lip movements. And as quickly as it had started, it was over.

Giles opens his eyes and his face falls. "Oh Xander. This isn't what you want."

Xander's gaze snaps immediately away from Giles'. "You don't know what I want."

"Do you? This has been such a trying time..."

Xander stands up. "I am not just some screwed-up junkie that can't think for myself. I have real feelings, and what I feel for you is real. I am more than my addiction."

Giles stands up as well. "I didn't mean to imply..."

"I know. Goodnight, Giles."

***

Giles enters the kitchen and begins to fill the teapot, pulling his favored mug from its hook over the sink. His conversation with Xander the previous night left him restless and anxious. Dawn bounces into the kitchen a few moments later and begins to fix herself a bowl of cereal. "Morning, Dawn."

"Morning G."

Giles sighs. These kids and their incessant nicknames. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm-hmm," she mumbles, reading the back of the cereal box. "Can we get the cocoa-flavored next time? I don't really like these."

"Cocoa, fake fruit, I don't see how one could be worse than the other."

"Good. Oh, hey. Xander just left."

Giles adjusts his glasses nervously. "Left? Did he say where he was going?"

Dawn looks up from her bowl. "Well, he had all of his stuff. I thought he was going home. You didn't know."

Giles clears his throat and continues to prepare his tea as normal, and lies. "No, no, I knew. I didn't realize that he would be going right now, however."

After dropping Dawn off at school, Giles drives immediately over to Xander's apartment. He begins to find knocking on Xander's door a rather heart-wrenching experience, but nonetheless, quickly raps three times.

"Jesus. That was fast." Xander opens the door with a garbage bag in hand. It appears that he has begun to clean the apartment he hasn't seen in months.

"I cannot believe that you would just leave without saying a word. Honestly, Xander, I didn't mean for you to leave at all," Giles says.

Xander looks away. "Look, I have to come home sometime, and it's better sooner than later."

"Are you sure that you're ready? It's only been...."

"Two months. Do you want to come in?" Xander steps out of the doorway to let Giles inside.

Giles surveys the mess, and his mind immediately conjures up images of dirty hypodermics hiding under piles of trash. "Listen, Xander, why don't you just move in with Dawn and me? We love having you with us..."

"Ha."

"What do you mean, ha?"

Xander reaches down and picks up a stack of paper plates from the floor. "I mean ha. Dawn hates me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because she does. She used to look at me with all of this pride in her eyes, and all of this love. And now it's just disgust. She looks at me like Spike does."

"I think that you're misinterpreting her," Giles sighs. "She just doesn't know what to do. She's realized that you are fallible, and she doesn't know how to resolve that with the hero she's created of you throughout the years. Or maybe she's just spending too much time with Spike, which is altogether possible..."

"I just don't think it's going to work."

"Maybe just another month or so. We can get you out of your lease, and when you're ready we can find you a better apartment without any bad memories attached to it."

Xander turns around sharply. "This apartment has good memories. I did live here with Anya, you know."

Giles is beginning to feel defeated. This isn't at all how he imagined the conversation going. "I understand. But maybe that's the problem. Maybe this apartment allows you to bury yourself in the past."

"And your place doesn't? And the magic shop? This whole place is just one huge reminder of the past! Everywhere I go, there's some memory associated with it. There's nowhere I could move in this town that wouldn't have some sort of memory attached."

"What are you saying?"

Xander drops the bag, and turns to face Giles, looking him intently in the eyes. "I'm saying that it isn't a good idea. I said...did some stupid things last night and I'm embarrassed. And now you're saying, 'let's be one big happy family,' and I can't see that happening when I feel this way."

"I'm very sorry if I hurt you," Giles says quietly.

Xander's looking away again. "I know. You didn't. I mean, why the hell would you want me like that? I'm just this fucked up, strung-out, *kid* and you probably think I'm some sort of *gay slut* now, or something..." He sets himself roughly down on a chair and is again sobbing. "I've just turned into this huge fucked-up mess, and I cry all the time, and I'm scared of the goddamn dark...why? Why? I remember being so normal. I had all these jokes, and smart things to say, and now it's just all this fucking crying..."

Giles is across the room and holding the boy against his chest as he rocks back and forth. "Please don't say those things about yourself. They aren't true, you know. They aren't true."

"And here you are, you are like this last good thing left in my life, this strong person who lets me sleep in your bed, and holds me when I'm scared, and I have to go fuck that up by telling you what I feel, and trying to kiss you..."

Giles kneels down in front of Xander; pulls the boy's shaking hands away from his tear-soaked face. "You needn't be ashamed of what you feel. I understand. Sometimes you just want someone to hold onto..."

But there are Xander's lips, once again on the Watcher's, kissing so, so gently, a salty, tear-stained kiss. Giles doesn't pull away, he allows the boy to part his lips so slightly, to flicker his hot tongue into his wary mouth. He allows the boy to remove his glasses, and wind his fingers through the short hair atop his head. When Xander's tongue pushes farther into his hesitant mouth, the Watcher moans involuntarily, and steadies himself with a hand on Xander's hip.

Giles knows this is wrong, wrong, wrong, but he's comforting the boy, offering Xander a safe moment of human contact, and damned if the boy doesn't taste good, toothpaste and orange juice and tears, and it's sweet and tart and desperate, and Giles wishes he could do the right thing, but this is Xander, and he deserves to be happy, even if this is just the worst way to go about it.

Xander is the first to pull away, leaving Giles dazed with wet lips. His eyes flit open and Xander searches his face. "Was that wrong?"

"I...I honestly don't know."

Xander nods. "Can I do it again?"

Giles knows that this is the point of no return. An affirmative answer will start an avalanche that he is completely unprepared for. A negative answer could mean losing the boy. "Yes."

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."

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*