Title: Going Back
Author: lostgirlslair
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Giles/Xander
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes you can go home again.
Spoilers: Set post 'Chosen.'  No comics canon.
Feedback and Concrit adored: lostgirlslair AT yahoo DOT com

Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities.  I am neither.

I wrote this story for the gilesxander ficathon (masterlist here) and for cala_jane, who wanted Xander coming back from a long absence and Scotch.  Damn, I forgot the Scotch.  I hope you like it anyway, sweetie! 

Huge thanks to katekat1010, for the beta magic!


Xander couldn't let Willow leave without one more hug.  No matter how things changed, that was the one thing that never did: Willow hugs made everything better.  Which hadn't always been a good a thing, especially in formal dress, but at least it was consistent.

"It's so good to see you!  I don't think I can let go," Willow said, and he could hear the laughter in her voice.  It made him finally feel he was home.

"I promise I won't disappear if you let go." Xander thought about that for a heartbeat.  "Not that I'm asking you to stop, or anything."  Willow giggled and pulled away, swatting his arm as she turned to go.

She threw him a grin over her shoulder, mouthing "good luck," before she closed the door.

Xander watched through the glass as Willow skipped down to join a waiting Kennedy, Buffy, and Dawn.  For a split second, he had a flash of nights in Sunnydale, watching the girls leave and waiting behind to help Giles put his books away, or carry out the trash, before he left.

Things were entirely different now, but for just one second Xander couldn't have said how.

Snorting, he turned back into Giles' house.  During the five years he'd been in Africa, Xander hadn't visited London at all.  He knew the others--Buffy and Willow and Dawn--didn't understand why, but he thought that maybe Giles did, or thought he did, anyway.

Xander picked up some of the plates lying around and took them into the kitchen.  Giles stood in front of the sink, sleeves of his shirt rolled high, soapy water halfway up his forearms. 

Xander grinned as Giles looked up from the dishes.  Giles' eyebrows were raised, his forehead wrinkling.  Xander knew his cheerfulness was confusing Giles, which--okay, maybe a little perversely--just made him more cheerful.

"You should think about getting one of those new-fangled dishwashers."

Giles looked back to the dishes, but not before Xander caught a glimpse of his smile.  "Why do you think I offered to let you stay?"  Giles went a little still after he said that, as if he realized just what kind of answer Xander might give.

"Aahh," Xander said, sliding up to the counter before the moment could become too awkward.  "I think you'll find my dishwashing much improved."

Giles relaxed and then snorted.  "We'll still start with the basics, I think."  He handed Xander a dish to dry.

Xander felt his grin widen.  Even when Giles was trying to be casual, Xander could hear a hint of confusion in his tone.  They hadn't talked for the first three years that Xander was gone.  In the last two they'd talked more and more often, but never about what Xander thought of as 'The Incident.'  Xander had been thinking about it, though.  A lot.  A lot more than he would have ever acknowledged just a few years ago.

Now Xander could feel the issue between them, feel the tension in Giles.  Xander had to admit that he'd been drawing it out all day.  He'd meant to say something on the drive back from the airport, but he'd kept putting it off.  He'd thought that maybe after they'd settled in at Giles' house, he'd be able to get it out, but then he'd walked into a surprise 'Welcome Home' party.  Though, being honest, that wasn't the only reason.  It was nice to be the one who knew what was going on for a change.

"So what was it that forced you to learn to do dishes?"  Giles asked, though Xander knew it was probably just to fill the quiet that had crept between them.

"Dishes need washing, no matter where you are, and the sink in my apartment was old and creaky."  Xander glanced up to get his next dish and found Giles watching him with a speculative look.

"What?  Is it that strange that I can clean all on my own?"  Giles looked apologetic until Xander broke into a smile.  "Just warn me if the shock gets to be too much."  Again Giles' eyebrow rose a tiny bit.  Xander might not have noticed if he hadn't been studying Giles' face.

"No," Giles said, smiling again as he handed off a dish.  "Just . . . give me a little while before you offer to cook, all right?  I can only take so many shocks at once."

Xander laughed, shaking his head.  "Don't worry about that.  I still make most of my meals in the microwave."

"And my world view remains intact."  Giles gave Xander a sidelong glance.  "Mostly."

Xander took another dish from Giles' hand, wiping it dry with quick swipes.  They worked in silence for a moment and then Xander opened his mouth--to say something completely different--and out popped, "I may have totally overreacted."

"What?" Giles asked.  "When?"

"Oh . . . five or so years ago."  Xander glanced up at Giles to find their faces only a few inches apart.  "You know, when . . . when you kissed me and I hopped a plane to Africa?  Well . . . Africa might have been an overreaction."

"I see," Giles said, slowly, though he didn't turn his face away.  "And where will you end up, if I kiss you tonight?"

"Well," Xander said, shrugging, "I'm not a first date kinda guy, but I think you could probably get me as far as the couch."