October 2007
500 words
Written for the Giles/Xander Fest's Dabble-a-Day prompts @ gilesxander. This fic was built using three prompts:
#11: "tell me what you're running from / I know that it's not me / cause you're tangled in my thoughts these days."
#13: "Moving on"
#15: "Contentment is not the fulfillment of what you want, but the realization of how much you already have."
* * *
When Xander called suddenly in the middle of the night, and asked Giles to meet him in Cairo, Giles didn't think twice about it. Xander had sounded exhausted beyond the breaking point, and Giles hurried to catch the next flight out.
The hotel room was stifling when he arrived. Giles put his bag down next to the door and followed Xander in. "What's--" he asked.
Xander held up his hand. "Don't ask, please, just-- I just need you to be here." He slumped down on the mattress and sighed, looking wearier than Giles could ever remember seeing him. Xander wasn't even supposed to be in Cairo. There were questions Giles needed to ask, as Xander's employer, as his lover, but he knew the answers were going to have to wait.
He nodded, and sat next to Xander on the bed, before putting a hand on Xander's knee. "I'm here."
It was only later, much later, once they were both lying down on the bed, and the air had cooled down, that Xander finally talked. Giles listened and didn't say a word, only tightening his hold on Xander's shoulder in support.
"There was nothing I could do, but I can't get their faces out of my mind, all of those children, and--"
Giles sighed and kissed Xander's forehead. "You're right, there was nothing you could do, but that doesn't erase the horror of the situation."
"I don't think I want to do this anymore," Xander whispered, so low Giles had to lean closer to hear.
"You know you can stop at any time," Giles replied.
Xander nodded, and then paused. When he turned to Giles he was frowning. He asked: "Can I really?"
"Yes," Giles said decisively. He cupped Xander's cheek and leaned forward. "Let me take you home."
Not even an hour into the flight, Xander's head fell against Giles' shoulder. He snored softly as he slept, reminding Giles of early morning hours when Xander was home between assignments. It was strangely comforting.
The ritual sacrifice Xander had witnessed had happened just a little over four days ago, and Giles doubted that Xander had gotten any sleep since. Just the bits and pieces Giles had been able to put together from Xander's careful explanations of what had happened had been enough to turn Giles' blood to ice. No, there had truly been nothing Xander, or the slayer he had had with him that day, could have done to stop it.
Giles wished there was some way to erase those memories from Xander's mind, to give him back the two hours when he hadn't been able to look away. But Giles knew there were no miracle cures for this. There never would be.
With a sigh, he slipped an arm around Xander's shoulders and tugged him closer against his side. The next time the stewardess passed them by, Giles raised his head and asked for a blanket and a pillow.
He was bringing Xander home; that was all that mattered.