*****
As the door banged open, Giles, Buffy, Willow, and Oz looked up in alarm. The library at the university was busier than the high school one had been and it had taken some time to find an appropriate place to meet. They had finally decided on an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. They had turned one section of it into a makeshift library by building bookshelves and bringing in tables and chairs. One part was sectioned off as a training area and a cage had been brought in to hold Oz during the full moon. Cordelia had overseen the interior decorating before she left Sunnydale and the group now had a meeting place that worked well for all of them. The last thing they wanted was to lose it after they had put so much work into it.
They relaxed when they saw that Xander stood framed in the open doorway. When he continued to just stand there, however, Buffy moved forward quickly. "Xander?" she asked in alarm as she reached his side and saw the state he was in. "Oh my god! Xander!"
Xander was soaked from the steady downpour outside the warehouse and his hair hung in wet clumps around his face. Large bruises covered his cheeks and one eye was swollen almost completely shut. There were cuts on her friend's hands and Buffy shook her head trying to imagine how he could have managed to hurt himself so badly. The sight that alarmed her most, however, was the large patch of dark red splashed on the front of Xander's shirt. Guiding him quickly to a chair, Buffy knelt next to him and pulled up the shirt to examine his chest beneath it. She was relieved but surprised to see that there was no wound there.
"It's not mine," he said flatly as Buffy let go of the hem of his shirt and sat back on her heels.
Looking up at him sharply, she attempted to make eye contact but he steadfastly avoided her gaze. Glancing back at the others, she saw them watching the exchange carefully, concerned expressions on their faces.
"Xander?" Willow asked, moving forward to kneel on the other side of Xander's chair. "Whose blood is it?"
"I didn't mean to do it," Xander said slowly. His voice was quiet and detached, which alarmed his friends almost as much as his appearance did. "I went home after my last class because you guys said you could handle this stuff by yourself tonight. I finished my reading for history yesterday and I didn't really have anything else to do so I went outside to shoot some hoops. You know me, Will," he said, meeting his friend's eyes for the first time since he'd entered the warehouse. "I can't actually hit the basket to save my life. It relaxes me, though. Well, on this one shot, the ball hit the backboard just a little too hard and it bounced back too fast. I couldn't catch it in time. It broke the window of my dad's truck."
Willow's eyes widened slightly and she reached out to place her hand over Xander's where it rested in his lap. "Oh god, Xander," she breathed. "What happened?"
Xander shrugged. "The same thing that always happened. I went inside and waited for Dad to get home. I didn't know what else to do, Will," he said, as though he had forgotten that the rest of his friends were there. "He was so angry when he came in. I guess he had a bad day at work anyway and then when he saw the truck he just lost it. That truck meant more to him than my mom and I combined did. He wouldn't even drive it to work because he was afraid some idiot at the construction site would drop something on it or something."
Closing his eyes, Xander paused a moment then took a deep breath. "He came at me with a bat," he continued. "That wasn't that unusual. But this time I couldn't just let him hit me. So I fought him. He managed to hit me a few times before I got the bat away from him. But he kept coming at me when I finally had it so I just swung at him. I didn't mean to, Will," he said, opening his eyes and looking his best friend in the eyes. "I swear I didn't mean to."
"Oh, Xander," Willow said, shaking her head. "How long ago did this happen?"
"Like an hour. I don't know," Xander answered quickly. "I called 911 and ran. Then I just sorta walked around. I didn't know what to do. I killed him, Willow. I didn't mean to but he's dead. There was so much blood." Xander was shaking now and his gaze darted around the room as though he couldn't quite decide what he was looking for. "What am I going to do? I mean, I *killed* him."
"Are you sure he's dead?" Willow asked. "Maybe you just thought he was," she said hopefully.
Xander nodded. "I'm sure, Will. You didn't see his head. God, there was more blood than I'd ever seen. I killed him. Shit."
"It was an accident," Willow responded firmly. Looking pointedly at the others she waited for them to nod their agreement. "See? Everyone agrees. It was an accident. But you need to go back. You have to explain that to the police and everyone."
"It sounds like the rain's let up. We'll walk you back," Buffy offered, standing up. Grabbing a cross off the table, she handed it to Xander and checked to make sure her stake was tucked safely into her sleeve. She pulled on her jacket and headed for the door, waiting for the others to catch up.
"Perhaps you shouldn't return to the scene with him," Giles suggested as the others prepared to follow her. "Given your reputation with the Sunnydale police, you may do more harm than good by being with him."
Buffy nodded. "Good point," she answered. "I'll walk with them most of the way, though, just in case some of our undead friends decide they want a midnight snack. What about you?"
"I'll stay here and see about getting him a lawyer. No matter what happens tonight he's likely to need one."
"Thanks G-man," Xander said as he followed Buffy and the others out of the warehouse.
Walking down the street quietly, Xander stared straight ahead of him, ignoring Willow's attempts to pull him into conversation. His friend was trying to put the best possible face on the situation but he knew that the night was going to end badly. He had killed his father and no amount of crying that it was an accident was going to change that. He doubted very much that the Sunnydale police department would care that he hadn't *meant* to kill his father. Everyone knew that Daniel Harris beat his wife and child. What better revenge could there be than to kill him with the bat he had used so often against them?
Xander imagined all of this running through the minds of the officers as he neared his house, becoming increasingly sure that it was a bad idea to go back. By the time he could see his house, Buffy had parted ways with them and he had made up his mind to return to the warehouse. Just then however, he saw the flashing lights of a police car turning the corner and heard the blip of the siren as the car pulled up at the curb. He stood still as the officers emerged from the car, guns aimed towards him. He felt like he was in some kind of horrible waking nightmare as the closest one said, "Alexander Harris?"
"Yes?" Xander asked quietly.
"Mr. Harris, you're under arrest for the suspicion of murder of one Daniel Harris. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to waive this right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney before answering any questions. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?" The officer spoke quickly, rattling off the familiar speech as he pulled out his handcuffs and secured Xander's wrists behind his back.
"What proof do you have to warrant an arrest?" Willow asked, stepping forward as the officer guided Xander into the back of the car.
"I'm going to have to ask you to step back, miss," the second police officer said firmly as his partner shut the door beside Xander. As Willow did as instructed he said, "We're taking your friend to the station. I suggest you find him a lawyer."
"You didn't answer my question," Willow called angrily as the two officers climbed into the car and closed their doors. Turning to Oz, she shook her head. "Well, I guess we should go tell Giles. Maybe he found a lawyer already."
*****
"They arrested him," Willow said angrily as she and Oz entered the warehouse. "They didn't even give him a chance to explain what happened before they just handcuffed him and took him away."
Removing his glasses, Giles rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose. "I was afraid something like this would happen. I spoke to a friend of mine. He said that he would represent Xander if it came to that, which it appears it has. I'll give him a call and ask him to meet me at the police station. For right now there isn't much you can do. Go home and try to get some sleep. Xander's going to need us to be there for him."
As they left the warehouse, Buffy pulled Giles aside. "Giles, what's going to happen to him?" she asked, her fear evident in her eyes now that she was away from the others.
"I don't know, Buffy," Giles answered, shaking his head sadly. "We're just going to have to wait and see what happens. You should get home, though. Try to get some rest and I'll call you in the morning to tell you what's going on."
"No," Buffy responded with a firm shake of her head. "I'm going with you."
"Buffy, you're not going to do any good there tonight. I doubt they would let you in to see him anyway. You'll just be sitting around the police station."
"That's better than sitting at home doing nothing," Buffy responded stubbornly. "Giles, I can't just let him sit in jail while I go home and drink hot chocolate. I'll sit on the curb if that's what they want. But then you and that lawyer can tell him that I'm *there* and that I love him."
Giles prepared to object again but then took in the firm set of Buffy's jaw and sighed. "All right then. Come along. We'll call your mother from the station to let her know the situation."
*****
Xander stared out the window of the police cruiser, trying to figure out how his life had come to this point. The day before he had been happy, spending the day at the beach with Buffy, Willow, and Oz. And now he was being taken to the police station for killing his father. And that was just the beginning. He didn't even want to think about what was going to happen after these immediate events.
He could feel the thoughts of trials and prison lurking at the edge of his consciousness, but he carefully avoided them, thinking instead about what his friends must be doing now. Willow would be worried, researching anything she could to try to help him. Oz would do his best to support his girlfriend and the others. Giles would be the one to take charge and take care of everyone. And Buffy. Shit. Thinking about her wasn't good; it brought all those dark thoughts of prison to the front of his mind to be examined. If he went to prison, he would lose her. Whether to another person or to death, he didn't know. But when he got out she would be gone. He wasn't sure he could deal with that.
As the car pulled up to the police station, Xander stared out the window at the large building. How many times had he been dragged here so his stepmother could pick up his drunken father? How many times had the piggy banks been broken open and his and his siblings' allowances been taken? How many times had he seen this building and sworn that he would never never never be taken there? But now, here he was, being taken in for killing his own father. It all felt so *wrong*, like he was trapped in some horrible dream with no end in sight. But he was fairly certain that this was no dream and he had no morning awakening to look forward to.
He stepped out of the car silently when told to do so and walked briskly beside the officer escorting him into the police station. They passed a small cluster of people, a woman with her children, waiting to speak to one of the desk sergeants. The woman's face was drawn with worry and the children hung around her, whimpering softly. Xander watched them as he passed, then turned his face away quickly when one of the children met his gaze, remembering all the times he had glared back at people who stared just a little too long at him and his family.
The officer guided him past several desks to one with an empty seat in front of it. "Thompson, I've got a new one for ya," the officer said as he motioned for Xander to sit down. "Name's Alexander Harris."
"So you're the kid all the buzz is about, huh?" Sergeant Thompson asked as the other officer walked away.
"I guess," Xander shrugged.
The next half hour passed in a haze for Xander. The officer typed all his vital statistics into a computer and printed out the sheet to place into his file. Then another officer took him to be fingerprinted. Then yet another officer took his mugshots. It all felt unreal to Xander, like he was watching it happen to somebody else. But no, this time it wasn't some evil person on television being booked for killing an innocent person. It was really him, Xander Harris. And the dead person was pretty damn far from being innocent.
Finally he was taken to a room with a table and several chairs and told to wait for an officer to arrive to question him. Xander nodded and sighed as he heard the door click shut. He stared at the table, trying to shut out his screaming thoughts by concentrating all his attention on something else. So he became intensely fascinated with the small chip in the surface of the table. As he stared at it, he wondered how it had been caused. Perhaps a violent criminal had hit it while attempting to injure an officer. Or perhaps a distraught family member had bumped it with one of the chairs.
He was still lost in his contemplation of the table when the door opened and an officer entered with Giles and an older man Xander didn't recognize. He watched them silently as Giles sat down in a nearby chair and the older man sat down in the seat next to Xander.
"Xander, this is Peter O'Meara," Giles introduced the man. "I hired him to represent you."
Xander looked from Giles to the lawyer and back to Giles. "I can't afford to pay you back or anything," he said, shaking his head.
"You need a lawyer, Xander," Giles answered gently. "This is the least I can do."
"No, actually, you could do a lot less. But thank you. So when are they going to throw me in jail?" Xander asked, turning to the attorney. "And why are we just sitting here? I thought they were going to come question me."
"We're waiting for a detective to arrive," O'Meara explained.
Suddenly the door opened again and a woman in her early thirties strode in. O'Meara rose and shook the woman's hand then took his seat again. "Hello," the woman said as she sat across from Xander. "I'm Detective Rebecca Dean. I see that you've retained counsel. Good. Now let's get started, shall we?" She set up a recorder quickly and pressed the record button. "Please state your name."
"Alexander Harris," Xander said hesitantly.
"Mr. Harris, where were you this evening at approximately five o'clock in the afternoon?" the detective asked.
"At home," Xander answered flatly.
"And were you still at home when your father, Daniel Harris, arrived?"
"Y-yes," Xander said, nodding.
"Mr. Harris, did you hit your father in the head with a baseball bat?"
Xander nodded again, unable to speak. Finally he cleared his throat and croaked out, "Yes."
"I believe you already knew this, however," O'Meara pointed out. "I'm sure you have the weapon in question."
"Yes, we do," the detective admitted. "Mr. Harris, why did you hit your father with the bat?"
"You don't need to answer that, Xander," O'Meara said quickly.
Xander looked at O'Meara for a moment and then turned to the detective. "I want to," he said hollowly. "He was trying to hit me with it. And then I just grabbed it. And I swung. I didn't want him to hit me any more so I swung it at his head. I guess he won't be hitting me any more."
Detective Dean regarded him with an expression of pity for a moment and then cleared her throat. "Okay, I think that's enough for right now. Somebody from the District Attorney's office will be by to speak to you in the morning," she said, stopping the recorder. "Mr. O'Meara, would you like some time to speak to your client?"
O'Meara nodded and watched Detective Dean leave the room. "Xander," he began when the door shut behind her.
"I want to plead guilty," Xander interrupted, staring at the table in front of him. "I meant to kill him when I swung that bat. Can you tell them that I want to confess? I'll sign whatever they want me to."
"Xander, I don't think that's a good idea," Giles objected.
"I don't want to waste everyone's time and money," Xander explained. "The thing is that I wanted to kill him. At the time, I wanted him dead more than I've ever wanted anything. I don't think I can hide that. So we all know how it's going to end anyway. We might as well save ourselves the trouble of a long trial."
"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" O'Meara asked, regarding Xander seriously.
Xander nodded. "I'm sure."
"Okay. Then just spend the night here and someone from the D.A.'s office will be by in the morning. We'll work it out with them then."
Xander nodded slowly as O'Meara rose and moved to the door. He opened it and spoke quietly to the officer standing guard outside. The officer entered the room and Xander rose to his feet. He allowed himself to be escorted out of the room. As they walked through the open doorway, Xander risked a glance back and clenched his jaw tightly when he saw the expression on Giles' face. Then he turned his head and looked resolutely forward, closing his mind to the regret that was already starting to clamor for attention.
*****
tbc