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Xander being there for Giles (Post-Becoming Part2)

Discussion in 'Introduction To The Watcher Diaries' started by sosa lola, Jul 21, 2017.

  1. sosa lola

    sosa lola Scooby

    Nov 26, 2007
    Likes Received:
    Characters: Xander, Giles
    Setting: Post-Becoming Part 2
    Summary:: Xander takes care of Giles after the events of Becoming Part 2.

    Super thanks to zombiegurl for being my awesome beta.


    Frantic knocks pound on the door. Xander lowers his hand to grab the heavy groceries he holds in the other before the bag slips to the floor.

    The door swings open and a disheveled Giles peers at him from the doorway with blurry eyes. “It’s you.”

    Ouch! Xander swallows the hurt down and instead flashes a wide grin. “June’s Santa is here, and he brought breakfast with his very limited allowance.”

    “Who bloody has time for breakfast?” Giles flings a hand in the air, and his untied robe flaps open. To Xander’s relief, he’s wearing briefs.

    Xander bites back a snide remark and limps into the apartment. Last night, he’d taken a nice blow to the knee while he and Oz went out to the cemetery. Playing the role of the Slayer without the assistance of her nifty superpowers was no picnic.

    He places the groceries on the kitchen counter and notices yesterday’s lunch plates unwashed in the sink. His arm begins to itch, causing an irritated hiss to escape his gritted teeth. He scowls down at the cast. Only four weeks to go.

    Giles picks up the phone on the desk and punches the numbers in as if they have personally offended him.

    Xander’s gaze lands on an empty whiskey bottle next to Giles’s phone with noticeable liquid stains on a few papers that appear important. Same whiskey bottle he’d seen yesterday, only it was half-full then. He staggers toward Oscar the Grouch, wishing he could jam a knife inside his cast and scratch away. “Did you take your medicine today?”

    No answer. Giles rubs his forehead and listens to the dial tone.

    “Skipping on medication? Not very watcher-y,” Xander persists with a growing desire to strangle the guy.

    When did he become the responsible adult around here?

    The night Xander had rescued Giles from the mansion, he’d rushed him to the nearest hospital. The doctor advised Giles to stay for observation, but Mr. Irrational wouldn’t hear of it and demanded to be released.

    Suggesting a sleepover, Xander had settled the inevitable World War III. That night, Xander couldn’t have a decent shuteye with Giles’s deafening cries over vicious nightmares and the trips to the bathroom where Xander’s assistance was needed. He was all for the helping, but bathroom assists seemed above and beyond the call of duty. And did he mention the ick factor?

    After all his hardships, the first thing Giles said in the next morning wasn’t the predictable Thank you, Xanderbut a very adamant Where’s Buffy? That question drove a sleep deprived Xander to fling himself on the same bed next to Giles and snore the day away.

    He didn’t get much of beauty sleep since an hour later, Giles had shaken him awake to be his personal driver. They’d driven over to the mansion, but Buffy wasn’t there, and neither was Angel or his minions. From that day on, Giles’s sole purpose for living had become finding Buffy at any cost.

    Xander’s sole purpose for living was to be Giles’s Carol Hathaway, minus the hot factor. He’d been cooking for him, washing his dishes, nagging him about his meds, and judging by Giles’s unflattering hygiene, he will soon be bathing him, too.

    Giles curses and dials the same phone number again.

    “Who the hell are you calling?”

    No response. Giles is completely in an ‘Ignore-Xander’ mode.

    He grabs the damn phone and slams it shut. “Would you listen to me?”

    The usual fierce glare he receives from Giles is twice as intimidating without his glasses on, but this time Xander isn’t shrinking in his place. Giles needs some sense knocked into him.

    “Buffy is gone!” Xander snaps, resenting Buffy for leaving them like that and Giles for neglecting himself to search for her. “There are more important things that need your freakin’ attention.”

    “You, for example.”

    Giles’s condescending tone and know-it-all expression send a jolt of anger burning through him. He closes his good hand in a solid fist and fights the irresistible impulse to knock Giles down with it for assuming that any of this is about Xander.

    “I meant you, you asshole!”

    Giles stares back at him with sunken eyes, lips parting slightly.

    A half-assed apology is the last thing Xander wants to hear, so he stalks to the kitchen and empties the plastic bag’s contents on the counter. He grabs a plate and places two slices of bread on it.

    “What are you doing?” Giles rubs his bare chest for a second, then abruptly covers himself up.

    “Fixing you something to eat.” Xander squeezes the mayo onto the bread with a vengeance and some of it splashes on the floor. “You shouldn’t drink a whole bottle of whiskey without eating something. My uncle died that way.” Using one hand, he awkwardly cuts a tomato into uneven slices.

    “I’m fairly certain I didn’t drink a whole bottle of whiskey.”

    Xander jerks his chin at the empty bottle on the desk.

    “In one night,” Giles adds defensively.

    Slapping cheese, tomato, lettuce and pork between the bread, and voila, breakfast is ready. He pushes the plate toward Giles. “Eat up. I’m making coffee. Best hangover cure known to mankind.”

    Stuffy Englishman seizes the sandwich and grimaces as the mayo leaks to his fingers.

    Xander dumps the coffee beans into the grinder and then fills a kettle with water, since Giles is too much of a stuck-up to own a damn coffee maker. He cusses under his breath, feeling the itch again, and scrapes on the cast.

    “What’s the matter?”

    Xander squires his shoulders. “Nothing.”

    He places the kettle on the stove, tensing when he feels Giles’s eyes on him. The water begins to simmer, stirring the restless silence. He hates the quiet, and it’s usually why he fills it with jokes, but he’s so angry with Giles right now that the curtains are closed on comedy hour.

    Giles falters toward him, and Xander swallows a lump. He looks at the man from the corner of his eye, catching him fetching a wooden spoon from the drawer. Giles reaches for his injured arm and gently starts tapping the spoon on the cast. The vibration gives a slight sense of relief.

    Xander glances at Giles, back at the cast, and then at him again. “Thanks,” he finally manages to whisper.

    Giles smiles at him. “All better?”

    It still itches, but not to the point where Xander wants to kill himself. He gives a timid, yet grateful smile.

    Giles rests the spoon on the counter and heaves out a sigh. “I have been rather engaged of late. I have a lead. A friend in Burbank claims to seeing a girl similar to Buffy’s description. The person I was calling.” He fiddles with the sandwich Xander made him. “I trust you and Oz are fending off the vampire population?”

    “Only in the opposite sense,” Xander mutters. His bruised knee seems to throb in response. “The vampire we were fighting last night made with the big exit.”

    “I’m aware it’s a watcher’s duty to take over when his slayer isn’t present.”

    Xander is about to object, but Giles holds up a hand.

    “It’s what I’ve done last summer. This time however, I have no knowledge of Buffy’s whereabouts.” Giles seems to catch himself getting misty and lifts a shaky hand to rub the back of his head. “The Hellmouth should be guarded by a slayer. My priority is to find her and bring her back for people’s safety.”

    “You miss her.” Xander calls out his bluff. “You’re worried about her. I get that. We all are, but…” He holds Giles’s gaze with his own. “If you don’t take care of yourself first, you won’t be any use for her.”

    Giles’s jaw clenches, and he stares at the empty whiskey bottle.

    With a friendly pat on the shoulder, Xander shuffles to the grinder to fetch the coffee powder. “I’ll work on the coffee. You work on getting that cat litter smell off.”