Title: Inside Of Me

Author: Lostgirl

Pairing: Giles/Xander

Rating: PG13

Summary: Xander discovers a part of himself he never knew existed.

Disclaimer: All things BTVS belong to Joss and various corporate entities.

Feedback: would be lovely! lost_girl@cox.net

Setting: Takes place during 'Family', Season 5. AU.

Author's Notes: Thanks to the wonderful and talented Neena, for the Beta-reading!! For soft_princess who wanted part-demon Xander. Enjoy!



Inside Of Me
By Lostgirl

Giles quickened his pace, panic rising with every step. He and the others had been searching all night and still there was no sign of Xander. He shouldn't be on his own right now.

The boy had been so disturbed that he'd run from the Magic Box, the disgust on his face breaking Rupert's heart. As the night had worn on, Giles' worry had only increased. He knew the boy's hatred of demons and feared what Xander might do, might attempt.

The locator spell had failed, twice, and Giles only knew one that was stronger. He had to find that book, and some sense told him it had better be quickly. He prayed it was his own fear, his own mixed emotions about the boy all churning and combining to create the stomach wrenching worry. Somehow, he knew that wasn't the case.

Let him be all right. Please, just . . .

Giles burst into his flat, throwing his rain-soaked coat toward the pegs without a glance.

Then he saw Xander.

The young man stood in his living room, watching with a tight jaw and haunted eyes, rain dripping from his sodden hair and clothes, though he didn't seem aware of it. There was a sword in his hands, one of Giles' antique weapons, never used for Slaying. It rested in its scabbard, lying along Xander's outstretched palms as if he would make a gift of it.

"Giles," his voice was harsh, as if he'd been crying, or screaming as his eyes showed no sign of tears.

Does he ever cry? It was an odd thought, but suddenly Giles couldn't remember any time over the last five years when the boy--young man--had let his sorrows flow. He never remembered seeing tears in those liquid brown eyes and had to wonder if that was his fault for not looking closely enough.

"Xander. God, we were so worried about you." Giles took one step forward, unable to stop himself, but went no further. There was something skittish in the boy's stance, something tense that screamed he was too jumpy to be approached.

"It has to be you. I . . . I can't ask Buffy and . . . please." Xander thrust the sword out, his teeth grinding.

"What?" Giles understood the request, but his heart simply couldn't comprehend, couldn't even begin to contemplate. He took a step closer, suddenly finding it all-important to get the sword, any weapon, out of Xander's reach.

"You know what I’m asking." Xander spat out the words, tossing the sword to Giles, who caught it easily. "Don't pretend either of us is stupid. It has to be you."

"Xander, I can't--"

"Don't!" Fists clenching, anger clear in every taunt line of his body, Xander advanced a step, holding his chin up to expose his throat. "I’m a demon, Giles! The spell said so! Tara's human, but I'm . . . I'm evil. Do it!"

"No." Giles tossed the sword behind him, uncaring as it clattered against a lamp. "Xander, not all demons--"

"We kill them, Giles! I know about demons. They wreck lives! They murder friends! Or just steal their bodies and their memories and then . . . Do it!" The young man shook with his anger . . . and fear.

Rupert saw it now, the utter terror that hid behind Xander's rage. The young man's soft eyes prickled with tears, but Xander refused to let them fall. Giles stepped into the boy's personal space, unable to keep himself from inhaling that tantalizing scent that lingered in his memories, and sometimes his dreams. He took the other man by the shoulders, shaking him.

"I will not kill you! This doesn't change who you are! Would you have wanted me to kill Tara? Would she have immediately been evil in your eyes?" Giles knew the answer to that, knew that it wasn't in Xander's nature to hate so fiercely one who had shown nothing but kindness. Unless it was himself. Rupert had never wanted to get his hands around Tony Harris' throat as much as he did in that moment.

"Yes," Xander hissed, but the sorrow in his eyes gave away the lie.

"Don't try to lie to me."

"I’m evil, Giles! My father was fucking right! Don't let me hurt them!" Xander was all but vibrating with the intensity of his emotions, his voice pleading though his composure was beginning to break.

"I won't," Giles promised, "but I won't hurt you either."

A single, tearless sob wrenched itself from Xander's throat. He pushed Giles away and ran, the older man taking only a moment to recover himself before following out into the rain.

Thankful for his morning runs, Giles managed to keep the younger man in sight, cursing as he sped along deserted streets. At least the sun was rising and he need not fear either of them being attacked by vampires.

He lost sight of Xander when the young man ran into one of the poorer cemeteries, but a memory of a half-heard conversation told him where he'd find the boy.

True to his thinking, he found Xander at the grave of his grandparents. The boy was in a rage, kicking at the uncared for tombstones, picking up a two-by-four from a neglected bench to beat at them.

"Fucking bastards!" He was screaming, knocking small pieces of concrete off with every strike. "You did this to me!"

"Xander." Rupert's voice, filled with all the quiet authority he could project, caught the younger man's attention. He turned, throwing the two-by-four aside and staring at Giles with eyes that finally ran with tears.

"I'm evil," he whispered. "You shouldn't be around me. I . . . I don't want to--"

"You're not evil. You're Xander. The most loyal, honest man I've ever known."

"I . . . but I’m a demon." Xander fell to his knees in the mud, hanging his head, the rain pelting him.

Giles was next to him in an instant, pulling him into an awkward embrace.

"You shouldn't touch me," Xander murmured, his voice catching. He didn't try to pull away. Which was good, because Giles wasn't sure he could have made himself let go, not after wanting to hold him for so long. "I'm . . . I'm dirty."

"No," Giles whispered into his ear, squeezing him all the tighter. "You're Xander. I . . . I don't think I can let you go." He hadn't meant to speak those words, but they slipped out before his mind could censor them.

Xander tensed in his arms and Rupert cursed himself for making things worse.

No, I couldn't have picked a worse time or said a more idiotic thing.

"Don't," was the boy's response and, with a sigh, Giles prepared himself to release the boy. Xander buried his face into the crook of Rupert's neck, his tears hot on the older man's skin, contrasting the cold rain. "Don't let me go."

The words were so unexpected it took Rupert a moment to comprehend. His wonder turned to concern quickly though. Now was not the time for this and Giles knew it. Xander was far too distraught to know what he was saying, or rather, how his words were being interpreted.

"You're not evil. You're who you always were. You're brave beyond anything I've ever seen. You're so strong it makes me feel weak. Everything you are . . . is amazing to me."

"Promise me I won't hurt them. I won't hurt you."

"I can't." Xander tensed against him and Giles hurried to explain. "Humans hurt each other all the time. We're not the most sensitive creatures, but I can promise you won't hurt them because of your heritage. You're no different now. You just know more about yourself."

Silence lay between them for long moments, broken only by the growl of thunder overhead, the sound of rain against stone and mud, but the storm was passing. Xander sniffed, laying his head more comfortably against Giles' shoulder without pulling away at all.

Rupert's jeans were soaked, as were the rest of his clothes. His knees were beginning to ache. Still, there wasn't anything short of mortal danger that could have made him move while this young man was allowing the embrace.

"Giles?"

"Hmm?"

"I . . . would you . . ."

"I won't kill you. I won't hurt you."

"No. I . . . would you kiss me?"

Rupert's heart jumped into his throat, his stomach doing a jig. Just how in the name of all that was holy was he supposed to answer that? The thought of feeling Xander's soft lips against his own, of finally licking along them, between them, and tasting the boy . . .

It had him hard faster than he'd have thought possible.

But Xander was vulnerable now. Would he be taking advantage? If he said no . . . what would the boy think? That he was dirty? That Giles thought him--he'd hesitated too long.

"I'm sorry," Xander rushed, pulling away from their embrace. "I . . . I'm sorry." The boy wouldn't look at him.

Giles made his decision. With a gentle hand he turned Xander's face toward him and kissed him. He licked and nibbled at those delectable lips, lapping up the salty tears that had run across them.

Xander groaned, his mouth opening to Rupert's searching tongue. Giles swept inside, memorizing the feel of it in case he never had the chance to taste the young man again. This would be a memory for the lonely nights. Xander's hands clenched rhythmically against Giles' back as their tongues danced and duelled, lips sliding wetly against one another, bodies pressed tight.

When Rupert pulled away they were both panting. Xander laid his head against Giles' shoulder, lips turned inward this time, exhaling across the sensitive skin in a way that made Rupert shudder.

"You're cold," Xander mistook the reaction, pulling away. "We should . . . uh, we should go back to your place." There was something in his voice, something in his eyes, that made Rupert's heart beat faster.

"Yes. Get us both dry, some warm tea in us and . . ."

"Yeah," Xander cut him off, a warm smile flitting over his thoroughly kissed lips. "Then we should go to bed."

Giles stopped breathing for a moment.

"Are you--Xander you're--"

"Not stupid, not too emotionally distraught to accept comfort and not about to leave your side without more than a kiss."


END