All Over Again 1/4
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @ virginqueen.com

Written for drabble prompts of the glorious gilesxander Octoberfest. Expect parts 3 & 4 on upcoming Wednesdays.

Summary: Giles and Xander live in circles. Part 1 of 4.

Giles/Xander-ish. A little hurt/comfort, a little angst.

Rated G.

Spins off from season 4.

Wordcount: 434

I always love feedback, and may well revise this when it's finished, so all sorts of comments are welcome.

All my blings belongs to Joss.

Big thanks to bant, for looking over Part 1.


All Over Again 1/4
by Dr Squidlove

Giles sat on the edge of the mattress and shook Xander's shoulder, watching him blink his eyes open, awaiting the frown.

Xander sat up, instantly awake, just as he always did. "Giles?"

"It's me."

"What are you doing in my... This isn't my bedroom."

"You're in my house."

Xander took a good look around. There wasn't much to take in. The same as yesterday: drawers, a cupboard, spare-room-decor. "What's going on?"

It was easier this way, waking Xander, setting the routine. He knew the questions. "Do you remember anything?"

That was when Xander froze, turning inward to search for something, anything familiar. "I remember... graduation. And I went on a road trip."

"That's good."

"When did I get back? I don't remember getting back." Giles squeezed his shoulder, calming him before his voice rose.

"We're working on returning your memories. There's no need to worry."

"Says the man who remembers yesterday. The guy who *doesn't* is gonna quietly freak out."

There wasn't an answer to that. "The bathroom is the next room over. The blue towel is yours."

He knew exactly what Xander was thinking, watching him stand and head for the door, and Giles paused even before Xander's mouth opened. "You seem like you've been practising this conversation."

He practised it every morning. "We've done this for a few days, now. I'll be out in the kitchen when you're ready."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Giles settled with tea and a pile of books at his desk. Xander never took long, and the appearance of research always made things easier. He picked out a book for him at random: one that all the gang had already read at least twice, and Xander must have read and forgotten ten, fifteen, twenty times. Like every book Giles owned with even a tangential relevance to memory magic, but it would give Xander purpose.

Ritual was Giles' forte, and he'd learned this one better than any before it.

He'd learned to be careful not to answer Xander's questions before he asked them. Xander didn't need to know that Giles had already had every conversation.

He'd realised that it was a mistake to let on that he understood the pop culture quips, that they'd been at this long enough for Giles to find time to rent and endure 'Groundhog Day'.

And he'd accepted that carefully-chosen lies were a kindness that his conscience would have to bear. When Xander asked, it was better for him to believe that Buffy and Willow were out chasing a lead, than that they'd exhausted them all already, and returned to their normal college classes months ago.

---

All Over Again 2/4
by Dr Squidlove

"What about this one?" Xander pushed his book towards Giles.

Giles glanced at the page, because Xander would wonder if he didn't. Thirteenth century, an Ottoman soldier cursed by Mongols. Also referenced in two other books from Giles' library, and a website Willow found on her laptop. Nothing like Xander's case, and they'd chased the lead anyway, in October, and twice in December. "Good, good."

"Is it useful?"

He shifted his glasses a little higher. "It may be."

"You barely looked at it."

Giles looked at him properly, and offered a little smile. "I'm sorry. Make a note, and I'll read it next." He had to be more careful. Answering by script always led Xander to the same place. "I would rather have you healthy and whole, but I do enjoy your company."

Xander's eyes widened. "Mindreader."

"I have my talents."

"Yeah."

Xander started to frown, and his mouth opened, and Giles stood before he could ask. "Cooking is also a talent. It's almost dinner time, if you're hungry."

"Um. Yeah. Food. How long-"

"Hold that thought." He shuffled through cupboards. "What would you like? I have burger patties, chicken, frozen pizza..."

"I like all those. You have frozen pizza?" Of course he had frozen pizza. Of course he had everything Xander liked, but Xander could keep right on thinking he'd discovered something new about the enigmatic Watcher.

Giles was still listing the contents of his refrigerator when the door swung open, and the girls came traipsing in. The best and worst part of Giles' day.

Willow was always straight in, the first to hug Xander and drag him away from the books, easily brushing off all his questions about her mythical lead.

Buffy paused to lean over the counter. "How was today?"

"The same."

Always the same answer, and always the last thing to be the same. The girls brought chaos. They'd learned to dance around the dangerous questions as well as Giles had, and Willow didn't grow quiet, anymore, when Xander asked where Oz was, but they'd found Spike with a chip and joined forces with phantom soldiers, they'd been to classes and Thanksgiving sales, and even unspoken, they brought it all inside.

Buffy squeezed Xander tight, and Xander grinned. "Hey, I should have amnesia every day!"

Giles stood corrected. That joke was always the last predictable moment of same.

But then it was the girls in their dorm and what they did last summer while Xander was on his roadtrip and what Maggie Walsh said in her lecture, and Xander was swept along with them. They made Xander laugh. Giles had long ago lost that spontaneity.

He busied himself turning on the oven and putting lunch dishes away as he listened, trying to anticipate where the conversation would lead. It would be an easy evening if the mood continued as it was, and he'd have a chance later to ask Buffy if there was any news on Riley's soldier friends.

They kept him well-distracted until the pizza was heated and sliced. Food kicked straight to Xander's brain, and inevitably dragged them back to the situation at hand. Buffy talked about contacting the Council as if they hadn't already been rejected; Willow described her unveiling spell as though it had only been yesterday. Xander told them both about the Ottoman, and they agreed it was a good lead.

"Oh, oh, oh!" Willow bounced upright in her seat, almost losing the plate from her lap, eyes round as she turned to Giles. "Raifa Tucakovic, who runs the Ancient History faculty, heard from- well, never mind, but she has a friend, and she said she could get me into some of the restricted collections on the east coast: Columbia and UPenn, maybe even some Rhode Island zillionaire's private library."

Giles froze. The resources there... "You only just thought to mention this?"

Willow pouted. "There was distraction. Besides, I can't get away until next week, at least-"

"Next *week*?" Xander exclaimed. Dammit.

"Because Raifa has to clear it with her Columbia friend," Willow finished, easily. They'd all used that escape clause once or twice, after letting something slip.

Giles held his breath, while he waited to see if Xander would buy it today.

---

All Over Again 3/4: Moving On
by Dr Squidlove


Giles tipped out the dregs of the tea and set the mug down in the sink. He'd pack the dishwasher in the morning. "They haven't stopped coming, Xander. They couldn't make it today."

Xander glared across the serving counter, disbelieving. Giles never had found a way to convince him otherwise, on the evenings when he had Xander to himself. Both girls had both stopped by yesterday. Willow never failed to put in at least three or four appearances a week, and had been to New York and England and Beijing in search of leads. Buffy's duties would have brought her even if Xander didn't, though there had been a new awkwardness since Xander lost all his memories of Dawn.

There had been a flurry of new research when Xander stopped recognising her last month. Giles had been sure the onset of a second variant on Xander's amnesia was key to tracing Xander's particular curse, but nothing had turned up. It was eerie, the way she'd been cut from his memories, high school events chopped and edited to exclude her. Dawn never visited, anymore.

Giles reached across the counter to pull the empty glass from Xander's hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

He turned back to rinse it, taking the time to prepare his answer to Xander's next question. 'Who else could?' was the worst response he could give, though he'd once stumbled through an arranged marriage metaphor that was utterly disastrous. 'I care about you,' was open to misinterpretation and 'I'm glad to be here,' was a terrible lie. No one would choose this life.

At last, "Why are you doing this?"

Giles braced himself against the edge of the sink, still picking through his responses.

"I must have asked you that before."

"Every time."

"So I'm thinking you should have a pretty good answer, by now."

He should. He didn't. He turned, and leaned back against the counter, pulling off his glasses to wipe away the trace of steam. "I spent two and a half years in the library, watching all of you. Do you think I haven't noticed your courage, your loyalty? The way you talk a great deal of running, but are always the first into the fray?" Sometimes he stopped there. Not tonight. "I remember who came for me, when I was in Angelus's hands."

"I just-"

"You never forgot what he did to me, or to Jenny. I'm not about to forget you." He held Xander's gaze for as long as he could, and then escaped the kitchen. With relief, he closed the bathroom door.

These nights were the worst. When Xander learned how long it had been, through a slipped word or a peek out at Christmas wreaths on neighbours' doors or a date on a bank statement, forgotten on the desk. These nights were intimate, when Xander came to the realisation that nothing he did today would matter tomorrow.

He took off his glasses, folded them and laid them by the sink, taking refuge in the blurring of his reflection.

Every last thing Xander did today would matter tomorrow. It was Giles' actions that disappeared, all his reassurances, every piece of his life that he gave Xander, on these melancholy nights.

He brushed his teeth and washed his face, lingering in his privacy.

When he opened the door, Xander was waiting

Most nights by far, this didn't happen. There were nights when Xander stormed off to bed barely past sunset, nights when Xander had to be pulled away from the books before he dozed on them, nights when he ended up sprawled on the couch cracking jokes, trying to make Giles smile. The "What's the difference between Angel and..." series worked every time.

But there were also these nights, when he'd find Xander blocking his path to the hallway or the kitchen or the stairs, with serious eyes. In a moment, Xander would slide fingers along his jaw, and the kiss would be slow and thorough, and raise the hair on the back of his neck.

Giles dipped his head. "Don't underestimate the power I have over you."

"You're not my watcher. Or my teacher. And if I hear the words 'father figure' out of-"

Xander flinched when Giles suddenly moved past him, headed for the desk. He scribbled a note on the yellow legal pad, tore off the sheet and folded it, twice.

"What's that?"

"A reminder." Giles ran his finger along the fold, and then put it down. "You think I haven't played this day out often enough to know how it works?"

"I think I have a little bit of free will." Xander was framed in the doorway, arms folded, mouth mutinous.

He spread his arms. "It just happens that the one you want is the dusty old librarian keeping house for you."

"Maybe this has been a year or more for you, Giles, but I've been here a day."

"It's hardly been an ordinary day."

"You want me to tell you all my high school library fantasies? I got a collection." Xander was creeping closer as he spoke. "Behind the stacks. In your office. On the table right in the middle of-"

"Just the library?"

"Got a few in your car, too."

"The Citroen is no more," Giles said, quietly. "I was turned into a demon. Spike crashed it."

"Oh." Xander hesitated, very close indeed. Close enough that Giles could see the colours in his eyes, taste his breath. "Demon, huh?"

"Not one of my more stellar moments." He quirked a sideways smile, just to soften Xander a little further. "Serves me right for getting drunk and maudlin with someone I knew better than to trust."

Xander's lips curled up, head tipping forward so he was looking up through his lashes. "The one time I tried to drown my humiliation in the bottle I ended up Livin' La Vida Loca onstage at a strip club and I cannot believe I just told you that."

Giles swallowed, hard. It was no trouble at all, to conjure the image which doubtless did little justice to the reality. Without breaking their gaze - as if he were able - he reached for the paper he'd left on the desk. He picked it up, put it in the hand that was about to settle against his chest.

Xander frowned at Giles as he unfolded the page. He looked down, face smoothing to perfect blank as he read Giles' handwriting: 'The one time I tried to drown my humiliation in the bottle I ended up Livin' La Vida Loca onstage at a strip club and I cannot believe I just told you that.'

For the longest time he was still. Giles waited, until he looked up, jaw working. "Why did you show me this?"

Because it wouldn't matter, eight hours from now, how much Giles hurt him.

They'd ended up in bed, once or twice. Four times.

He used to resist for the exact reasons he was telling Xander. Guilt, fear of manipulation. Now, it was knowing he would have to push Xander out afterwards, make him shower and go back to his own bed to sleep. It was knowing he'd have to wake him the next morning, explain where he was, ask what he remembered, direct him where to find the bathroom.

Xander would argue that it could be different if he stayed, woke up with Giles. He had once, and it was very different, and Giles was never going to go through that again.

Xander lifted up the note. "This doesn't mean anything."

Giles took it from him, and dropped it in the wastebasket that already brimmed with folded yellow sheets. A finger under Xander's chin drew his gaze back up, and Giles kissed him. It was only a dry press of lips, but it was enough to sharpen the ache in his gut. This had been a good day. "Goodnight, Xander." He climbed the stairs to bed.

---

All Over Again 4/4: The Morning After
by Dr Squidlove


Xander's brow was furrowed, fist clenched around the sheet, but he didn't stir when Giles sat on the edge of the bed. It looked to have been a poor night's sleep. Which was, he supposed, more restful than the night Giles had had. It was tempting to wait, watch Xander sleep a little longer.

He shook his shoulder, watching him blink his eyes open, awaiting the frown.

Xander sat up, instantly awake. "Giles?"

"It's me."

"What are you doing in my... This isn't my bedroom."

Nothing. Giles pulled his hand into his lap. "You're in my house."

Xander looked around the room. "What's going on?"

Giles hadn't thought he harboured any hope, until he felt it fall away, leaving him cold. "Do you remember anything?"

"I remember... graduation. And I went on a road trip."

"That's, that's, good."

"When did I get back? I don't remember getting back."

Giles forced himself to reach out, a hand on his arm to calm him before his voice rose. "We're working on returning your memories. There's no need to worry."

"Says the man who remembers yesterday. The guy who *doesn't* is gonna quietly freak out."

Giles was well within his rights to 'freak out'. He didn't. It was the same, all over again, for another day. He pushed himself up off the bed. "The bathroom is the next room over. There's a towel for you on the sink."

As he headed out, Xander said, "You seem like you've been practising this conversation."

"We'll be out in the kitchen when you're ready." Giles didn't look back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As soon as Giles came out, Buffy read his face, and sat back down on the couch. She didn't notice Riley taking her hand.

Angel dipped his head, barely. "He'd probably prefer it this way. That it wasn't me."

Yes, well. Giles didn't care who found the cure, and if he could stand to have Angel here, in his house, then Xander could have stood to owe a debt.

He wandered over to his desk, flipped the book closed. He was numb. It was barely gone eight in the morning and he was so, damned, tired, ready to head upstairs, and be done. He couldn't do this any longer.

"So what's next?" Buffy asked.

No one answered.

"Maybe there's someone in that firm-"

"Buffy-" Angel stopped, and reconsidered. "I'll keep looking."

Angel had no more leads. There were no more leads. Giles pulled off his glasses, and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. He couldn't stand one more day of this.

"Giles..." Angel was standing far too close.

Close enough, though, that Giles could ask. There was no more reason to wait. Buffy was talking at Riley, paying no attention to them. Angel wouldn't like it, but he'd do it, if Giles asked.

"Hey, it's a party. All this for me?" Everyone froze. Xander hadn't bothered to shower, just washed his face and pulled on a shirt and come out to investigate the voices. "You all look like..." He looked around nervously. "Like you're trying to break it to me that I'm stuck this way."

"No!" Buffy bounced up and hurried over to take his hands. "We just hit a little snag. You know our snaggy Hellmouth ways." She could plaster an upbeat attitude on failure like no one else.

"Snaggy is a spell that makes you think Jonathan's the hero of Sunnydale. I'd rank living in Giles' spare room while I memory loop like a goldfish a little higher on the scale of bad."

Giles felt such a burst of hate it took the wind out of him. Why couldn't the boy just be dead, like anybody else on this godforsaken hole?

Buffy patted him, laughing. "Willow checked out the goldfish thing. They have a way longer memory than you."

"You have to take him," Giles whispered. Under his breath, pitched to vampire ears, "You take care of him."

Angel shifted, just enough that Giles could be sure he'd heard. Xander would hate it, but Buffy and Willow couldn't do it; there was no one else in Sunnydale equipped, no one with a life that could be poured away like his, or Angel's.

He should have felt like a right bastard, but just as quietly, Angel said, "All right," and Giles had never felt relief like it. Doors swinging open on his prison.

Xander was smiling crookedly at Buffy, at whatever she was saying. God, dear Xander. Smiling like that when he should have been throwing things. It wasn't fair or kind to leave him, and with Angel, of all people, but Xander had only ever had to live this one day at a time.

Perhaps Giles could come back, in a few months. With time, with life outside this apartment and people and sunlight, then he might be ready. Perhaps believing that just a salve for his guilt.

Buffy dragged Xander towards the kitchen, pulling out Corn Pops and milk, explaining a Buffified version of Angel's search like it was just one more step on the road to recovery. Xander grabbed a pile of bowls from the dishwasher. "It must have taken some lead, to get Angel and Riley in a room together."

"Hey." Buffy jabbed a finger in his chest.

"Ow."

"No mutual blood feud is gonna get in the way of bringing back our Xander. We are going to fix you, even if we have to resurrect Snyder to do it," she insisted, with a bob of her head as though saying made it true.

Angel took a step towards the kitchen, away from Giles. "Finding a cure is what matters. We haven't tried to kill each other in months, now."

"Weeks," Buffy corrected.

"Weeks. But that time was only because he told his-"

"She didn't say my name," said Riley.

Giles hadn't been listening, but he watched Buffy sort back through everything she'd said. She'd been talking non-stop; he must have missed-

Riley stood. "You mentioned Jonathan. You shouldn't know about Jonathan's spell. That was this year."

He was right. Giles hadn't explained the loop, either.

"He's right!" Buffy grabbed Xander's shirt, giving him a slayer-size shake. "What do you remember?"

Xander's mouth opened. "I... I remember going on my road trip."

"And?"

Xander stalled, and Riley took another step forward. "Me? What do you know about me?"

"You're Riley. Boyfriend of the Buffster. You hate Angel. You're... You're a soldier! You had a chip!"

Buffy laughed, face lit like Christmas. "What else? Tell us other stuff!"

"I remember... Dracula. Did I eat bugs?" At Buffy's nod, he gagged. "That's disgusting. Proceeding to forget the bugs. Okay. I remember a bunch of angry Indians trying to kill us. Whizzing arrows, and a, a bear?" He buried his hands in his hair, like he could pull more out. "I remember... Oh god, I remember every single damned word of that green book with the gold title and the weird diagrams. How many times did I read that?" He swung to face Giles, and stopped, the excitement sliding away.

"I remember Giles. Lots of Giles."

Giles couldn't move. It was impossible to keep up with the expressions flickering across Xander's face, as memory upon memory returned. He'd fixated on Giles now, and Giles couldn't look away. This wasn't possible.

Xander suddenly looked at Buffy. "Dawn isn't real."

"What?" cried Riley and Angel in unison.

Buffy glanced at Giles, and lowered her eyes. "No. She's... I think that's one explanation that can wait."

"It's gonna need one hell of an explanation, but all right. We can focus on me." He wandered out of the kitchen, into the archway, staring around the flat. "I remember things, but not... it's all pieces." He looked at the fireplace, and he could have been remembering the fire Buffy and Willow started without opening the chimney, or the glass Giles pitched against the mantel in a fit of anger. He turned towards the landing on the stairs, and Giles wondered if he saw a Fyarl crashing down or Giles pulling open his trousers as they stumbled up.

Xander was in front of him, now, more animated than he'd been since the day he stumbled in here. "You and me, we talked about, wow, everything. You told me about growing up in Westbury, and way too much about the guitar solo in 'Tales of brave Ulysses' and your friend Alan, in London, with the geraniums." His focus turned inwards, forgetting the room as he grasped for more. "All about Ethan, and, stuff with Buffy, and the night Miss-" the words sliced clean away as Xander's eyes fell on Angel. Amazing, the way Angel could recoil with barely a flinch.

That night, Giles had spoken of only once, to the only person he could speak to about anything, freely.

Xander looked so regretful, as he added, "You wouldn't have told me half that stuff, if you'd believed I'd ever remember."

Exposed, Giles didn't know what to do. He hadn't practised this conversation or anything like it. Not in a very long time. "More true for the plot of my mystery novel," he rasped.

Xander grinned, and it was sudden and blinding. "You underestimated the power I could have over you. And I'm not anywhere near as noble."

It was a total surprise, when Xander kissed him. Sweeter and more gentle than he ever had, capturing Giles' upper lip for barely a moment before he leaned closer, to whisper in his ear, "I'm gonna remember this one."


--
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