*****

Rolling over, Xander pulled a pillow over his head, trying to ignore the pounding at the door. He groaned as the noise continued. Nearly screaming in annoyance, Xander sat up, threw the pillow across the room and tossed the covers to the side.

Grumbling, he got out of bed and walked with nearly blind eyes out into the hallway. Violently, he pounded on the door directly across from his. "Thanks, Oz," he yelled at the door. "Don't worry, I'll get it."

Xander and Oz had moved in together after high school. While Xander only got accepted to the community college, Oz opted not to attend college at all. Both got jobs, but couldn't afford to live alone, so the solution had been simple. They split the bills and the rent, making living relatively easy for both of them.

The knocking continued, as Xander clumbsily made it to the front room. He stopped to kick a video game controller and a few CD cases out of his path before moving to the door. "Okay, Okay, I'm coming," he said loudly. Unlocking all three locks and unchaining the door, he opened it, expecting to see Buffy or Giles. It could have even been Devon. He loved to come over at three in the morning and pass out on their couch.

But it wasn't Devon and it wasn't one of Xander's friends. "Mom?" Xander choked out. Her hair was unkempt and her clothes disheveled. He could tell she had been crying, her eyes were red and puffy. He stood there shocked to see her.

She looked up. "Xander?" Her voice was small as she asked, "Can I come in?"

Mutely, he nodded. Stepping back, he opened the door wider and ushered her in. Suddenly remembering that he was only wearing a pair of boxers, Xander quickly shut the door and moved to a pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the living. He tugged on a pair of baggy jeans then turned back to face his mother. "What's wrong?" He asked the question tenderly, but there was a pronounced anger behind it.

Sitting on the couch, clenching and unclenching her hands, Shelby Harris looked up at her son. "It's your father."

Xander's face closed off, only a scowl left behind. "When is it *not* my father?" he mumbled. Crossing the room, Xander sat down next to his mother. One hand stroked her hair as the other one held both of her hands. It was so easy for him to slip into the comforter role. He had so much practice. "Did he hurt you again?" He sighed. "Mom, I keep telling you, you need to leave him. Curt, Brian and I all did. It's time for you to, Mom." He had been saying it for years, but she never listened. He was getting tired of picking up the pieces every time his father flew off the handle and broke his mother.

She shook her head. "No."

He looked at her with disbelief. "No? He didn't hurt you?" She shook his head. "Then what? Mom, it's late...or early, depending on your outlook on life. I have work tomorrow."

"He's dead."

Xander's hands dropped into his lap as he heard his mother's words. "W-what?"

"He's dead," she repeated.

Shaking his head, Xander tried to think clearly. "What? How?"

She shook her head swiftly. "He was drunk and he was driving home from the bar and he ran a stop light a truck slammed into him and the car flipped over and he's dead," she cried. Leaning over, she placed her head on her son's chest and sobbed.

Xander knew she was looking for comfort, but this time, he had none to give. He was still shocked. He sat there quietly, letting his mother cry for nearly fifteen minutes before he gently pushed her away. "I'll call you a cab."

Shelby looked up, confused. "Xander, I drove," she said slowly.

"Then I'll walk you to your car." His voice was low and monotonous.

"But...but...Xander," she stumbled. "I need you."

"His eyes narrowed. "For what, Mom? You want me to grieve with you over him?" Xander stood up as his voice grew louder. "You want to cry on my shoulder over a man who beat you black and blue for twenty-five years? You want me to cry for him, Mom?"

His mother only cried harder, her head shaking back and forth, denying his words.

"I'm not going to cry for that fucking bastard!"

"Xander," she snapped. Standing up, she moved to smack him but he caught her hand easily.

"What? Dad's gone so you're taking his place? You want to hit me like he did, Mom?" He curled her fingers inward until she was making a fist. "Well, go ahead, but don't slap me. He would never slap me. You have to punch to be like him." Letting go of her hand, Xander stuck his chin out for her to hit. He watched as her hand fell to her side. "Come on, Mom. Hit me!" he screamed at her.

"Xander," she whimpered.

Sighing, his head hung low as he took her hand and he led her to the door. "Goodnight, Mom. I'll call you tomorrow." He opened the door and gently pushed her shocked body through it.

Closing the door and re-locking it, Xander turned around and found Oz, clad in motorcycle boxers, starting at him. "What's going on?" he asked tiredly.

"Nothing. Go back to bed," Xander answered as he brushed past Oz. When he'd made it to his room, he shut the door, retrieved his pillow and flopped down onto his bed.

He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry for his asshole father, his life or his death. For hours Xander laid there, trying to no think, trying to sleep.

*****
Part 2:

At ten o'clock, the phone rang, startling Xander out of his fatigued daze. Not moving to answer it, Xander only rolled over, telling himself for the hundredth time that he wasn't going to cry. He almost betrayed his words, but a hard knock on his door caused his tears to stop before they started.

He heard his door creep open and he opened his eyes. Oz peeked around, cautiously. "Xand? Your boss is on the phone. You're an hour late, man."

"Tell her I'm sick," he mumbled as he closed his eyes again and draped an arm over them.

"Are you?"

"If I say yes, will you leave me the fuck alone and tell her?" Xander didn't really want to be an asshole to Oz, but he couldn't help it.

"Whatever. I'll tell her." Oz backed out, closing the door.

Lying there for an hour, Xander finally slipped into sleep. He awoke ten hours later. Sitting up, he stretched and coughed, then absently scratched his stomach. Yawning, he stood up and moved out into the hall then into the bathroom. After relieving himself, Xander moved to the front room, plopping himself down on the couch. His eyes fixed on the television where some industrial band was thrashing about onscreen.

"Hey," Oz greeted from the large chair closest to the TV. Xander grunted in response, still trying to wake up fully. Oz turned back to the television. "So," he started, his eyes focused on the screen. "What was your mom crying about last night?"

Letting out a long sigh, Xander ran a hand through his mussed and flattened hair. "My dad was killed last night," he answered in a dull, almost bored voice.

Oz turned to him even as his fingers found the off button on the TV remote. "What?" The news came as a shock to Oz, but what was more disturbing was the tone of his friend's voice. He sounded...disinterested.

"Yeah. He was driving drunk again. Wound up getting smushed."

Arching an eyebrow, oz said slowly, "You don't sound upset."

"I'm not." Before Oz could ask why, Xander continued. "He was an asshole and the world's a better place without him in it." Oz opened his mouth to speak but was cut off when Xander quickly got up. "Let's order a pizza."

**

Oz jumped up at the sound of knocking on the door. He grabbed the money from the wagon wheel coffee table, thinking it was the pizza guy. When he opened the door, he knew it wasn't. No where on the man standing before him was the word, "Domino's" and he wasn't holding a pizza either. "Hey."

"Hey," the other man returned, looking a bit lost. "Does Xander Harris live here?"

"Yeah, man." Oz ushered him in, not giving a verbal invitation in case this man happened to be a little on the undead side. "Hey, Xand, company!"

Xander emerged from the kitchen, two beers in hand. He stopped when he saw who his guest was.

"Hey, little bro. You're not old enough to drink that." The man raised his eyebrow in mock judgement.

Xander smiled. "Curt?"

Oz watched the emotions play out on Xander's face. He should have guessed that this man was his brother. They had the same chocolate eyes and the same ears.

"What's the matter?" Curt asked. "Can't you hug your big brother?" He opened his arms wide and flashed a lopsided grin that Oz recognized as one of Xander's.

Xander's smile widened as he closed the distance between him and his brother. Both men laughed as they hugged each other tightly. "God, Curt!" Xander exclaimed, a bit shocked as he pulled out of the embrace. "Here," he said, handing his brother a beer, then giving the other to Oz. "Oh, Curt, this is my roommate and friend, Oz."

Xander disappeared into the kitchen momentarily. When he returned with another beer, he saw Curt eyeing the apartment. "Uh, nice place."

"No, it's not," Xander said with a smile as he motioned Curt to sit. "But we can't all be big New York Investment Banker types like you, can we?" After all three were seated, Xander asked, "Hey, where's Bri?"

Curt looked down at the bottle in his hands then took a swig. "Brian's back in detox. He got a little too friendly with the coke."

"Shit. Again?"

"Yeah. We're hoping the fourth time's the charm."

"You think it'll work?"

Curt shook his head and noticed his younger brother's look of disappointment. "He doesn't want to change. He hangs out with pimps and dealers, Xander. Until he completely commits to changing his lifestyle, he'll never get off that shit. I mean, he was messing with heroin too."

After a moment of silence, Xander finished off his beer and asked, "So why're you in town?"

Looking at Xander as if he were the most confusing riddle in the world, Curt replied, "Dad's dead." Xander looked away. "Mom called me at four in the morning and I took the next flight out."

Xander was saved from speaking when the pizza guy knocked on the door. He moved to get up, but Oz stopped him. "I'll get it. Catch up with your brother." Sitting back down, Xander looked uncomfortable.

"You could have been a little more helpful to Mom last night," Curt said quietly.

"What the fuck did you want me to do, Curt?" Xander asked angrily, hating the guilt that rose within him. "Say 'there, there, Mom. I'm sure you'll find another prick to beat you every night. And, oh! I'm sure he'll even hit your kids, too'?"

Curt finished his beer then set the bottle on the table, leaning in towards Xander. "Don't punish her for what he did. She's been punished enough."

Shaking his head and narrowing his eyes as fresh anger washed over him, Xander said calmly, "I'm not punishing her for what he did. I'm punishing her for what she *didn't* do. If I'm punishing her at all," he added.

"Xand..." Curt's words were cut off by Oz setting the pizza box on the table.

"Hey, you know, if you two want to be alone and talk, I can make my pizza to go."

"No," Xander said, taking a large piece, folding it over and preparing to shove it in his mouth. "Stay. We don't usually have too much to say, anyway." He turned to Curt, "Help yourself."

Taking a small piece, Curt asked, "So, how's school going? What are you taking?"

"It's fine and I'm taking...stuff."

Curt raised an eyebrow. "Stuff? Is that a required course?" He chuckled.

"I'm taking Speech and Creative Writing this semester."

"Yeah? You want to be a writer?"

"No, I want to be a dentist." Xander kept a straight face even as Curt quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, I'd like to be a writer, but I never will be."

Chuckling uneasily, his brother asked, "Why's that?"

"I'm not you."

"What?"

"I'm not you. You're the one that goes out and gets the good stuff. Brian's the one that goes out and gets that bad stuff. I'm the one who sits around and only gets what comes to him."

"Xander, You can do anything you want."

Chewing on a piece of crust, Xander mumbled, "Yeah, so I've been told."

"Why do you have such a self defeating attitude, Xander?"

"Gee, Curt, let me think about that one..."

Curt sat up straight, tossing his unwanted crust back into the pizza box. "Don't fucking start this, Xander."

"Start what?" the younger man asked innocently.

"Start this 'Poor Xander' shit. We all got shit on and we all dealt."

"Yes, we did and we all did it in different ways. You and Bri both just left me there in order to deal."

"Xander..."

"No, you both went to New York and that's fine, but don't think that because you two left that Dad let up on me."

Curt's brow furrowed. "What the fuck are you talking about, Xander? One minute we're talking about school, the next we're talking about Dad and now you're accusing me and Brian of abandoning you."

Standing up, Xander glared down at his brother. "Isn't that what you did, Curt? I think moving across the country and starting a life that doesn't include me warrants the word 'abandon'."

"His funeral's tomorrow," Curt said, changing the subject.

"I'm not going."

"Mom really wants you to go."

"Is Bri going? No, he's in rehab."

"Brian would be there if he could be, Xander," Curt replied, his voice rising as he moved to stand face to face with his youngest brother.

"Fuck that. I'm not going." Turning on his heel, Xander quickly retreated to his room.

Curt looked down at Oz, who shrugged. "It's at eleven in the morning if he changes his mind. Thanks for the pizza and beer." He extended his hand and shook Oz's. "Nice to have met you."

"Hey, Curt?" Oz stood up. "Uh, what's going on here?"

The older man shrugged. "He's got some problems that he just refuses to deal with." Curt turned and moved for the door.

*****
Part 3:

"Hey, Xand?" Oz called through the door as he knocked. "You alright, man?" When he got no response, he opened the door and peered around Xander's darkened room.

"Go away, Oz."

"As much as I respect your right to be alone, Xander, I can't do that right now," he replied as he stepped farther into the room.

Rolling over and sitting up, Xander asked, "Why's that?"

"Because I think you need a friend right now. Your dad's dead and for some reason you don't seem to really understand that."

"Oh, Jesus!" Xander exclaimed, violently slamming himself back down onto the bed. "I fucking understand that he's dead. What's not to understand? Drink, drink, big boom, crash, no more Daddy. I get it."

Oz sat down tentatively. "You don't seem to care all that much."

Xander shook his head as he closed his eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Nodding, the older boy agreed. "You're right, I don't and you're not helping."

Xander sat up, nearly yelling in frustration. "I don't know how I fucking feel! Alright? The guy fucked up everything that he ever touched."

"How?" Oz questioned quietly.

Once again shaking his head, Xander ran his hands through his dirty hair. "He beat my mother nearly everyday," he answered in an eerily calm voice. "He beat my brothers and me nearly everyday, too."

Swallowing hard, Oz was at a loss for words. Willow had once mentioned that Xander's home life had been bad, but that was almost three years ago. The guitarist had forgotten until now. "Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh'." Xander swung his legs over the side of the bed so that he was sitting next to Oz. "So, you happy now? Huh, Oz? You happy that you know?"

Oz shook his head. "I'm sorry, man."

The dark haired boy grew quiet, almost sinking into himself. "He'd just go off about nothing. He used to..." Xander broke down; Oz saw tears leaking from his chocolate eyes. "He would rape my mom. He'd do it in front of us...and we couldn't ever do anything about it. Once Curt tried, but he got the belt and put in the closet for two days."

"Damn. How old was he?"

"Twelve."

"So you were only seven?"

"Yep." He wiped his eyes then let his hands fall back to his lap.

"I'm sorry."

Xander was quiet for a moment but when he spoke, his voice was dull. "You already said that."

"I meant it." Placing a hand on Xander's shoulder, Oz intended it to be comforting. But when Xander felt the touch, he batted away Oz's arms violently and moved away. "Xander," he said tenderly, moving closer to him.

"Go away, Oz. I'm fine."

"That's obvious. Everything about you screams 'Fine'," Oz said sarcastically.

"Dammit, Oz, shut up."

"Xander," he drew out the name as he trailed his hand down his arm.

"Oz," Xander whispered, his voice conveying his tears of pain. Before the older boy could say anything, Xander shifted, moving to lie his head in Oz's lap.

Oz sat still for a moment, almost as if he didn't know what to do, the he moved one arm to run up and down Xander's arm as his free hand stroked the other boy's hair. He could feel the sobs wrack Xander' frame, just as he could feel Xander's tears soaking his denim covered leg. "It's okay, man," Oz soothed, trying desperately to think of something to make everything okay for his friend.

"Why does my whole life have to be fucked up, Oz?" Xander managed to choke out in between sobs.

"I don't know."

**

After twenty minutes, Xander raised his head from Oz's lap. He sniffled and moved away awkwardly. "Sorry," he said quietly, his eyes studying his hands in his lap. He was embarrassed at having cried and having cried in Oz's lap.

"Don't be, Xander." Oz shook his head. "I'm not." Putting his hand on Xander's shoulder, soothingly squeezing and releasing, Oz smiled comfortingly. "I'm here for you."

Xander let his eyes slip closed as he nodded his head. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Your brother said that the funeral is tomorrow at eleven, if you change your mind."

A deeper look of pain passed over Xander's features. "I can't, Oz." His voice was pained as he whispered. "How can I... I can't go."

"Well..." Oz started, only to be cut off by Xander.

"But my mom... She'll... I should go for her."

With his fingers lightly caressing Xander's neck, Oz responded, "You should go only if you want to. Your mom doesn't factor into this. She and Curt will understand."

"No, they won't," he countered simply.

"They will. They just..."

"I do want to go," Xander whispered. "But I don't." Placing his head in his hands again, he continued slowly before Oz could say anything. "I mean... Yeah, he was a bastard but...he's my dad." The last part came out choked as Xander become overwrought with tears.

Oz nodded in understanding then took at hold of Xander in a tight embrace. It was only natural for Xander to have conflicting emotions about his father. Kids are supposed to love their parents and not all of them know that parents who beat their children are not deserving of that love.

After a moment, Xander shifted, once again laying his head in Oz's lap. As Oz stroked his hair, fingers massaging his scalp, Xander's eyes slipped closed. Before Oz knew it, he could hear Xander's breathing even out and he knew that he was asleep.

**

Xander awoke a little after midnight, his head still on Oz's lap. The older boy was laying back but sat up when Xander lifted his head. Instead of addressing the fact that he had fallen asleep on Oz, Xander just moved away and curled up, lying with his head on the pillow.

"Xand?"

"Hmmm?" he barely answered.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "I'm sorry that I cried like a little girl."

Shaking his head, Oz grabbed Xander's foot, squeezing it a little. "It's okay to cry. It's good to cry."

"You don't."

His brow furrowed. "I don't what? Cry?" He watched Xander nod, roll onto his back and sit up. "Xander, I cry all the time."

"I've never seen you."

"Well, I haven't had occasion to as of late, at least not in front of you."

"When's the last time you cried?" Xander asked as he pulled his legs up against his body.

"When I got the last letter from Willow." He knew that Xander understood, but he clarified anyway. "The one where she told me about moving to London with *Chet*. As if Boston wasn't far enough, she has to go to England. And with him no less."

"You cried over that?"

"Didn't you?"

Xander shook his head. "I lost her a long time ago, Oz. I lost her to you. I cried over that."

"I'm sorry."

Shaking his head again, Xander's eyes locked with Oz's. "Don't be. You were always better for her than me. I didn't love her the way she needed and deserved to be loved." He paused for a beat. "Do you still love her?"

"Of course," Oz answered quickly. "In a different way than before, but I do love her."

Understanding, Xander nodded. "You know," he said, on the verge of tears again. "She kept my secret for so long and never once used it against me."

"Secret?"

"About my dad and him liking to hit us."

"Oh."

"Oz?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you go to the funeral with me tomorrow?"

Giving Xander a small smile, Oz replied, "Of course."

*****
Part 4:

The sun beat down on them as the casket was lowered down into the pit. There were only four people attending the ceremony. Xander hadn't said a word the entire morning. When he saw his brother, all he gave was a tight nod. He placed a short kiss on his mother's cheek, then watched the ceremony with a look of disinterest.

Oz stood by his side.

When the priest had finished and the casket was finally resting at the bottom of the pit, Xander just stood still. His mother and Curt had said something to him, but in all honesty, he didn't hear them. Too many thoughts were raging in his head. Too many emotions were playing out inside him.

In the end, Xander's family just left him standing there, knowing that they could do nothing to help.

But Oz stayed.

After nearly a half-hour of silence, Xander asked quietly, "How should I feel, Oz?"

"I can't tell you that."

"I hate him." Xander sank down to his knees, not caring if his dress slacks got dirty. "I hate him so much it hurts."

"It's okay to hate him, Xander. He took so much away from you." Oz sat down on the grass next to his friend.

Xander nodded. "He did. But he was also my dad and kids love their parents, right?"

"Not when the parent doesn't respect that love. Your dad never deserved your love."

"But I do love him. It's sick; I know that, but I do." His eyes were cast down, watching as his fingers picked blade after blade of grass. He swallowed hard. "I remember when I was, like, five, my dad came home drunk and he woke everyone up. We had to go stand in a line in the kitchen. One by one he interrogated us about who had eaten that last cookie. It sounds ridiculous, but he did it. When he found out it was me, he backhanded me and I fell over, knocking my head against the side of the table. The next day, he picked me up, sat me on his lap and we watched cartoons all day. He would pat me on the back and laugh when something funny happened and I remember thinking about how much I loved him. Even though he had given me a nasty bruise that was a deep purple color the night before, I still loved him."

"Xander, it's okay."

"No, it's not. It's fucked up." Large tears rolled out of his eyes as he kicked some dirt into the hole. "I HATE him. In high school, I wanted to kill him. Once I took home on of those knives Giles had locked up, but I couldn't do it. I wanted to, but I couldn't."

Oz wrapped his arm around Xander's shoulders as he moved closer to him. "Xander," he soothed. "It's okay."

Xander's crying increased to the point that he could no longer speak. Oz hugged him tightly, forcing Xander to weep into his shoulder. As the fabric of his white dress shirt became saturated with Xander's tears, Oz tried to comfort him as best he could.

After a few more moments of sobbing, Xander quieted. Pulling back, he kept his arms around Oz as he stared at him, his face only inches from Oz's. He studied the red head intensely for a moment and before he could think about it, he leaned forward. Xander's lips brushed lightly against Oz's and his eyes closed. He opened his mouth and gently sucked on Oz's bottom lip.

Realizing that Oz wasn't participating, Xander pulled back, blushing in embarrassment. Looking away, Xander hastily said, "I'm sorry." Oz didn't respond which only added to his discomfort.

Oz continued to study Xander until finally he cupped the other boy's head in his hands and kissed him. Xander did not hesitate to respond. Before either of them knew it, they were making out, hot and heavy, both getting very excited and forgetting that they were sitting in front of an open grave.

Faintly, Oz heard someone walking behind them. He pulled away from Xander and forced himself to remove his hands from Xander's body. Xander, obviously not hearing the footsteps, looked at him confused. "Let's go home," Oz suggested, giving Xander a smile that took away all the confusion.

**

They hadn't spoken since they left the cemetery. Both were lost in their own thoughts, but once the front door was closed and locked behind them, their attention focused on each other. The moment could have been awkward. It could have been filled with uneasy small talk or each of them giving the other subtle ways out. But the moment wasn't.

Oz moved closer to Xander slowly, almost as if he moved too swiftly, he'd frighten him. His hands shot out and one rested on Xander's hip, while the other pressed itself to his stomach. Oz looked up, waiting for Xander to make the next move. The only way that Oz would do this was if he knew that it was what Xander wanted, and that they wanted it equally.

Xander stood still for a moment, looking down at Oz, trying to decide which course of action would be the best in the long run. He tried to figure out why Oz was doing this, why Oz would want someone like Xander, but in the end, he realized that he didn't really care at that moment.

Xander searched Oz's eyes for the briefest of moments before swooping down and claiming his lips. He felt Oz respond by moving his lips and pulling Xander's body closer to him. Xander was new to this. New to kissing another guy and new to the feelings it gave him. Hell, it had even been a year since he had kissed anyone.

Opening his mouth, he let Oz's questing tongue into it to stroke his own tongue. He couldn't help but moan as their mouths grasped at each other and Oz's hands moved to his back, pulling him forward until his growing erection was pressed tightly against Oz's stomach.

As they continued to kiss, they began to move. Oz walked backwards down the hall and Xander followed, their mouths still attached. When they entered the bathroom, Oz pulled back, his hand finding the light switch.

"What are we doing?" Xander asked quietly. He was out of breath, but not panting.

Oz smiled and his hands moved to Xander's tie, loosening it. "Shower?"

Raising an eyebrow, Xander asked, "Do I stink?" His hands moved to Oz's tie.

"No. You don't." Unbuttoning Xander's shirt, Oz slipped it off his shoulders. "But I just thought a shower would be nice." His hands moved up under Xander's tight undershirt and his fingers toyed with the hard nipples underneath. He felt Xander still. Looking up, Oz asked, "Do you want to do this?" Xander nodded. "Then what's wrong?"

Xander shook his head then waited a moment before pulling his T-shirt over his head. "Nothing. I'm just...nervous."

Moving his hands from Xander's chest, Oz quickly removed his shirt and gave Xander a smile. "Me too."

"It doesn't show."

"Good."

*****
Part 5:

The water rained down on them as they just stood there, holding each other. Feeling Xander's erection poking him in the back, Oz slowly turned around, his mouth attaching itself to one of Xander's nipples. Slowly he began to kiss down his torso. When he reached Xander's bellybutton, Oz looked up, asking again, "You want this?"

All it took was Xander's lusty nod. Oz's hand wrapped around the base of Xander's cock as his tongue flicked out to run circles over the head. He smiled when he heard Xander's grunt of pleasure and felt Xander's hips thrust towards him.

Wasting no time, Oz slipped Xander's cock into his mouth, using his tongue to stimulate the underside. He smiled when he felt Xander's hands clamp down on his shoulders. He had only ever done this one other time and that had been right after Willow had broken up with him, but he had known he was bisexual since he was just a kid.

As his tongue swirled around the head of Xander's cock, one of Oz's hands moved to the bar of soap on the ledge. Taking a few swipes at it and making his fingers slick and slippery, Oz moved his hand around Xander's hip. One finger found his tight, puckered hole. It slipped in easily and as Oz wiggled it, he felt Xander's hands tighten on his shoulders. Moving his mouth down, Oz began to suck on Xander's sac. He began to hum as he sucked gently and before he knew it, Xander was coming, the semen flying over Oz's head to splash down on his back.

He licked the remaining cum from the head before standing up and pressing himself against Xander. "You okay?" he asked when he noticed that Xander's eyes were still closed. Xander nodded. "Do you want to go any farther?"

"Yeah," Xander whispered, his eyes finally opening and locking on Oz.

To Oz, Xander looked almost lost. "Are you sure?" Xander nodded again. "I only want to do this with you if you're into it, Xand. I don't want you to do it because you feel like now that it's started you can't stop it."

"I want to, Oz. I'm just... It's new."

**

Lying back on Oz's bed, Xander watched as Oz went about finding everything they needed. He didn't know exactly what he was getting himself into but it was trying not to think about it. All Xander knew was that it felt right and it felt good. It had been so very long since anyone took interest in him, and Oz was doing so much more than just taking interest. He was avidly pursuing.

Xander would be lying if he said that he had never had homosexual thought before kissing Oz earlier that day, but he had never thought that he might actually be gay or bisexual or anything remotely not straight. But as he watched Oz return to the bed, condom in hand, Xander knew that whatever he was, the only thing he wanted at that moment was to be with Oz.

"You're still okay?" Oz asked. Xander nodded and Oz moved onto the bed, sitting next to Xander so that their legs touched. "Well, the condom is lubed, but I'm not sure that it'll be enough and the only other thing I have is lotion, okay?" Again, Xander nodded. "Are you planning to be mute forever or just until we're through?"

Xander smiled. "Sorry, just nervous."

Leaning down, Oz kissed him gently, murmuring, "Don't be," against Xander's lips. Pulling back, Oz began to kiss down Xander's neck and chest, stopping only suckle at his hard nipples. Quietly, Oz opened the lotion, squeezing a decent amount onto one of his hands. He continued to kiss and lick his way down, Xander's body, trying to keep the other boy distracted as me moved down the bed.

Deftly, he managed to part Xander's legs and kneel between them without Xander even realizing it. Oz looked up and saw that Xander's eyes were closed and that his hands were clutching at the bedspread beneath him. With one hand Oz managed to lift Xander's lower body, making it so that Xander's ass rested on his thighs.

When the cool silkiness of Oz's lotion-covered finger brushed against Xander's opening, Xander's eyes opened and he jumped a little. He gasped when felt Oz's finger slip into him. Lifting his eyes, Xander looked at Oz, panic flashing briefly.

Oz saw the panic and withdrew his finger. "Xand?" he asked tentatively. His erection was shrinking at the sight of Xander's perturbed face. "You okay?"

Xander shook his head, scooting backward then sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Burying his head in his hand, he started to cry again. "I can't, Oz." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't."

Moving behind him, Oz placed calming hand on Xander's quaking back. "Shhh. It's okay. We don't have to. It's okay." Gently, he pulled Xander back until they were both lying on their sides, Oz pressed up against Xander's back. "We don't have to do anything."

"I'm sorry," Xander sobbed as he curled up into a ball. "I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to lead you on."

"You didn't. It's okay." Oz's hold tightened. "Xander. It's okay."

"Why is everything always so fucked up? Why can't I just be normal?"

"You're normal. Xander, we were going fast. It's okay. We'll just slow down and go at a pace that is right for you."

"I do...I do want you, Oz."

Oz smiled, his face nuzzling against Xander's back. "I know. I want you too, but it can wait. I'm more interested in helping you deal with everything. I can wait for the rest."

They lay there silent for a moment, until Oz realized Xander was shaking. Nudging him gently, Oz got Xander to move and slip under the covers. Putting on a pair of boxers, Oz slipped in next to him. Xander turned around to face Oz, his arms moving around Oz's waist. Oz's hand stroked Xander's face. "It's going to be okay."

Shaking his head, Xander frowned. "Why can't I just hate him, Oz?"

"Because you're human and you have complex emotions."

"Well, I'd like to have simple emotions just for a little bit."

Smiling again, Oz leaned forward and brushed his lips against Xander's as his thumbs wiped the tears from his cheeks. "No emotion is simple, Xand. You're going to work this out. I'm here for you. Your brother's here for you. I think you should probably talk to a professional about this, but in time you're going to be okay. You're not ignoring the past anymore, now you just have to deal with it."

"I don't want to turn out like Brian. I don't want to wind up in detox."

Oz smiled, shaking his head. "You won't. I won't let you get involved in any of that and I have a feeling that you won't allow yourself to either. You're stronger than that. You're better than that. And you've seen what it's done to your brother and I know that you don't want that."

"You know how I told you I took home that knife of Giles' because I wanted to kill my father?" Oz nodded solemnly, not liking the tone of Xander's voice. "Well, after I realized that I couldn't kill my dad..."

"What?" Oz coaxed as Xander's voice faded. "Xander?"

"It was a Saturday and I just..." Closing his eyes tightly, Xander swallowed. "I just sat in my room with my door locked, looking at the knife. It was so sharp. It was... It was like it was calling out to me. I stared at it for hours and then I picked it up and I held it against my wrist and I thought that I was going to do it. I really thought I'd slit my wrist, but I didn't. I had my shirt off and instead of slicing my wrist, I brought the blade to stomach and I made a big gash, just to feel the pain."

Oz looked at him in horror. "That's where you got that scar?"

Xander nodded without opening his eyes. He didn't need to see Oz to know the expression he wore. "It was like, I couldn't kill myself but I could hurt myself. Like I wasn't good enough to die, just bad enough to suffer."

"Have you done it since?" Xander's eyes opened and he began to get out of bed. Oz stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Where are you going?"

"To bed," Xander answered quietly.

"You're in bed. Stay with me." Xander shook his head. "You can't just leave in hopes that this will all go away, Xander. Have you cut yourself since?"

A small sob escaped from Xander as he sat rocking on the edge of the bed. "Yeah," he whispered, the word nearly drowned out by the sounds of Oz sitting up and moving behind him.

Oz wrapped his arms around Xander. "God, Xander," he breathed out. He had a growing burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was a feeling he always got when he was scared. "When?"

Looking up at him with a confused expression, Xander wiped the tears off his cheeks with the heels of his hands. "What?"

"When's the last time you cut yourself?" Again, Xander tried to get off the bed, but was held back by Oz. "Xander, please," Oz pleaded.

"You're not going to like it," he whispered.

"No, I'm not. I don't like anything about this. But I want you to tell me."

Oz watched as Xander's jaw clenched and unclenched several times. "Last Easter."

"That was only two months ago," Oz stated dumbly. The implications of what Xander was telling him set in fully. Xander had been cutting himself right under Oz's nose, figuratively speaking. "And before that?" he asked in a slightly shaking voice.

"Christmas," Xander whispered in reply. He let his head fall back into his hands as he continued to rock, tears slipping through his closed eyes.

Oz continued to rub Xander's back as he considered this. "Both times you went to your parents house." Xander nodded. "You did it while you were there?"

"Mostly," Xander said quietly.

"Mostly?"

"At Christmas, I did it twice when I was there, then when I came home I did it once more."

"Xander," Oz said sharply, a little to sharply.

Xander shook his head again. "I told you that you wouldn't like it. I can't help it, Oz."

Placing a gentle kiss on Xander's shoulder, Oz asked, "Why do you do it?" Xander just shrugged in reply. "Does anyone know?" Xander shook his head. "Xander, we need to get you help for this." Xander continued to shake his head. "Xander, yes. You can't just keep hurting yourself. I can't sit and let you do it."

"I'm not going to do it anymore, Oz," Xander stressed as he lifted his head from his hands to look at Oz.

"Can you honestly guarantee it? Can you tell me that you haven't felt like doing it in the past couple of days?" Xander looked down at his lap, then moved to stand up again. "No, Xander. I'm not judging you, but I'm not going to allow you to deny that this is a problem."

"Chill, Oz, I'm just going to get a pair of boxers, alright?" Oz let go of him and stood when Xander did. The taller boy looked down at him. "I'm not going to do anything but get some boxers, Oz. I promise I won't go near a knife, okay?" Oz shook his head, a tight, worried look upon his face. "What are you going to stand next to me forever now that you know?"

"Pretty much."

"What are you going to do when you have to go to work? Or when I have to? Or when I have to go to the bathroom, Oz? You going to hover around me 24/7?"

Oz furrowed his brow. "No," he said slowly. "But I can make sure that there aren't any..."

"I can do other stuff, Oz. Stuff that doesn't require knives or razors." Pointing to his hip, Xander looked straight into Oz's eyes. "See that? I did that the night my mom came over. No cutting; just pinching."

Reaching out, Oz's fingers lightly brushed over the bruised flesh of his hip. "I didn't even notice," he whispered to himself. Finally, he looked up at Xander. "I don't understand this."

"Good, so I'm not the only one," Xander said before moving out into the hall. "Hey, Oz. I'm hungry. Want to order a pizza?"

*****
Part 6:

"Xander, I want..."

"The pizza's good, Oz. Are you sure you don't want some?" Xander asked, holding out a piece. He was sitting at one side of the couch while Oz sat at another. It was nearly four in the afternoon and both had put on clothes.

"No. I don't want any. What I want is..."

"Fine, suit yourself. Go hungry." Shoving half the piece into his mouth, Xander turned away from Oz and stared at the blank television screen.

"Xander!" Oz said a little too loudly. "Sorry," he said quietly when Xander's head snapped around, a question in his eyes. "It's just that you keep cutting me off and I want to talk about this."

Sighing, Xander spoke in deadly calm voice. "Would it make you feel better? You want to know the whys and the hows? You think that if you know, you'll know how to stop me? Save me?" Swallowing the rest of the food in his mouth, Xander took a quick swig of beer to wash it down. "Fine. Why. Because I feel so dead inside that I need to feel the pain outside. Is that good enough, Oz? How about, I have so much hurt inside that I think it has to translate to the outside. How about, it's a release? I do it because I feel better afterwards. Or if I don't do it, I feel like I'm going to explode because everything is bubbling inside of me and boiling and there's nothing else I can do to get rid of it. I'm not going to be my father and take my rage out on everyone else."

"No, just yourself," Oz said quietly.

Ignoring him, Xander continued. "I'm so ugly inside that I have to this to make me as ugly on the outside. So take your pick, Oz, they're all true. Now for how. Well the first time was with that knife, but it was Giles' knife and I couldn't keep it, so the next time I used a lighter." Xander held up his arm, pushing the short sleeve up farther to show Oz a small patch of scarred skin. "Then after that I think I used razor blades on my ankles. And in between, you know for the times I didn't feel bad enough to cut, there was the pinching and scratching. I pulled my hair and banged my head against walls.

"I nearly broke my fingers once. My dad had just got done beating and raping my mother in front of me and then, you know, like a good drunk, he passed out on top of her. So after I moved him to the couch and got my mom cleaned up and put to bed, I went to my room and slammed my closet door on my fingers. Repeatedly. I'm very inventive, Oz. You name it, I probably have tried it."

"Did Willow know about this?"

Xander shook his head. "No. No one knows but you."

"Xander, this scares me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. All I know is that I don't want you to do it anymore."

Running his hands through his hair, Xander replied, "It's not easy to stop, Oz. It's like Buffy and Angel. They always say that they're over; that it won't happen again, they won't fall in love with each other. It's the same for me."

"You're equating hurting yourself with love?"

"Not equating, comparing. Oz, you know what? I understand that this is upsetting you, but it's not helping me, you know. All it's doing is making me feel bad and making me want to go into my room and cut myself, okay? So stop."

Oz's brow relaxed as the implications of Xander's words penetrated his brain. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands then running his hands through his hair, Oz spoke, his voice full of emotion. "God, Xander..."

Sighing, Xander set his beer on the wagon wheel table, then slid over next to Oz. Taking the older boy's hands in his, Xander said quietly, "I shouldn't have told you."

"Yes, you should have."

"I didn't want to upset you this much, Oz. I feel bad."

Oz looked up. "No. Don't. I'm not upset; I'm just worried for you. I don't want you hurt, Xand. And the thought of you doing that stuff to yourself and doing it when I've been around..."

Letting go of Oz's hands, Xander leaned back into the couch, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No. I don't want an apology, Xander. I want to know how I can help."

Opening only one eye, Xander considered Oz for a moment. "Don't tell anyone about would be the first thing."

"That's not going to help."

"It's not going to hinder either."

"Xander," Oz started, trailing a hand down Xander's arm. "I want to you talk to someone about this."

"Funny," Xander said without humor. "I thought that's what I was doing."

Oz ignored the tone of his friend's voice, not wanting to be distracted. "A professional." Xander just sighed again and stood up. "Where are you going?"

"To my room," Xander said tightly.

"To do what?" Oz asked as he stood up.

"Lie down." Xander's voice now conveyed his anger. "Would you like to come with me, Oz? Or maybe just check my room for any sharp implements? Maybe you could go out and get some restraints so that you can be assured that I won't hurt myself."

"Xander..."

"I'm going to take a nap, Oz. You can do whatever you want." Without anything further, Xander turned and quickly left the living room, leaving Oz standing there, not knowing what to do.

**

Xander had been lying in his bed for nearly an hour before the tears began and when they started, they just wouldn't stop. Quietly he sobbed into his pillow. He wasn't quiet sure what exactly he was crying about. Whether it was his father or Oz or his need to hurt himself, he didn't know. All he knew was that it hurt and it didn't know how to make it stop.

After twenty minutes of sobbing, his eyes drifted over to the closet. He just laid there staring at it for the longest time, his eyes skirting over the clothes hanging within as well as the clothes wadded up on the floor. Taking a couple deep, sharp breaths, Xander sat up and swung his feet off the bed. He sat like that for another ten minutes, two opposing sides debating in his head. All the while, the tears still flowed.

Slowing his breathing further, he stood up on weak legs and slowly walked to the closet. Kneeling, he groped around in the dark, searching with his hands. After a few moments, he found what he was looking for. Sitting back, he pulled the wadded up towel into his lap, letting his eyes slip close for a moment. Xander felt the calm wash over him and he opened his eyes.

He moved quickly back to his bed where he sat down cross-legged. Letting out a long breath, Xander placed the towel before him, unwrapping it. The towel was a light purple color with splotches of crimson here and there, in no set pattern. He knew he should wash it. He knew he should try to get the dried blood out, but it had almost become like a trusted friend. Seeing the blood of wounds past was a reminder to him of why he needed to do it.

When the towel was straightened out on the bed, Xander began to line the implements that had been wrapped inside of the towel up in a row. He had so many to choose from; so many options to consider. His fingers lightly swept over the knife he stole from the kitchen in his parent's house. But he couldn't use that; it was a little to dull for what he wanted. His eyes focused in the darkness on the two straight razors before drifting over to the small pincushion. He hesitated for only a moment before moving to shed his jeans.

He brushed up his boxers to reveal the smooth, white skin of his thigh. If he were going to use the knife, he'd just cut open the old scar on his chest, but he wanted some place new and untouched. Plucking a large needle from the pincushion, he dragged it against the skin of his leg until it got to his thigh. He was going to go slow. He needed it to go slow.

*****
Part 7:

Oz had been on his computer since Xander had gone to his room. Looking up websites and reading up on Self Injury was a hefty job. But reading the information available helped him to understand a little more. He read testimonials that were frighteningly similar to Xander's and he realized that it wasn't something that Xander was choosing to do. It was something that he was compelled to do; something he felt he had to do.

Oz had just finished reading the page for friends and family, suggesting ways to support and help, when he heard the knock on the front door. Rubbing his eyes, he got up and moved to the front door. "Hey, Curt," he greeted, then stepped aside so that Xander's brother could enter.

"How's it going? Is Xander around?"

Closing the door, Oz briefly thought about telling Curt about Xander's problem, about how Xander hurts himself whenever things get to be too much. Deciding against it, deciding that a betrayal of trust wasn't what Xander needed, Oz simply said, "He's lying down. I'll get him."

Before Oz could get far, Curt asked, "How's he doing?"

Oz shook his head. "Not really good, I think." Pausing to scratch his shoulder, Oz once again contemplated telling Curt everything. "I think your dad being killed has sort of stirred everything up."

"Yeah," Curt said softly. "Seems to be going around."

Oz thought about telling Curt that he was pretty sure that no one else was going through what Xander was going through, but in the end, he just nodded and walked out of the room. Moving down the hall, his stomach clenched as he thought about all the possible things Xander could be doing at the moment. Raising his hand, Oz knocked three times sharply.

"Go away, Oz," he heard Xander's muffled reply.

"Curt's here."

Oz heard Xander's bed squeak then some rustling of the covers. "Tell him to go away."

"You come out and tell him to go away, Xander."

"Damn it, Oz," Xander yelled.

Oz heard more rustling and took a step back from the door. When the door opened, Xander didn't look at Oz. Without really realizing he was doing it, Oz's eyes swept over the other boy's body, looking for cuts or bruises. He couldn't find any, but he did notice that Xander was walking a little slowly, a bit more carefully. He also noticed how Xander was keeping the palm of one hand gently pressed against his upper right thigh.

Choosing not to say anything at the moment, Oz mentally filed that fact away along with a mental note to ask Xander about it later. He did not follow Xander into the front room; he just stayed in the hallway, listening to Xander's conversation with his brother.

**

Xander rubbed his eyes, trying to look like he had just woke up as he entered into the front room. Curt was carelessly browsing the CDs in the CD tower. "What's up, Curt?"

The older brother shook his head. "Just checking in on you."

"I'm fine," Xander replied automatically.

"You know, Brian's out of detox. They said he could come home for a couple days as long as we were with him. His plane lands in about three hours. Want to go to the airport with me?"

Xander's brow furrowed. "Brian's coming home?"

Nodding, Curt smiled. "Just for a couple of days. You haven't seen him in what? Six years?"

Xander nodded. "Yeah, you guys left when he was seventeen. I had just turned fourteen, so, yeah, six years."

Draping his arm around Xander's shoulder, Curt gave a toothy smile. "So let's go get him."

Less enthused, Xander just nodded, moving away from his brother's touch. Walking to the closet, he pulled out his Nikes then moved to the couch to put them on. "So we're going to LA? I don't really want to drive that far."

"I'll be driving, you'll be riding."

"Whatever, I don't feel well."

Raising his eyebrows and cocking his head to the side, Curt asked, "So, are you saying that you don't want to go?"

Xander shook his head. "I'm saying that I don't want to go that far and that I don't feel well."

Curt sighed in exasperation. "So do you want to go, or don't you?" he asked even as he watched Xander tying his shoes.

"Can Oz come?" Xander asked, looking up at his brother.

Curt sighed again and shook his head, trying to figure his brother out. Deciding that it would probably take years to do that, Curt shrugged. "Whatever you want."

**

Oz looked up when he Xander slowly came into the hallway. "Want to come to LA with us to pick up Brian?" Xander asked without really looking at Oz.

"If you want me to."

Xander answered softly, "I do."

"Xander," Oz said softly. "You know, everything's going to be alright. Things will settle down and..."

"I know, Oz." Looking up, Xander gave him a soft smile. "Sorry for being a prick earlier."

Oz shook his head, gently placing a hand on Xander's forearm. "Don't apologize. It's okay. I'm just concerned for you."

"I know."

*****