"Willow, there's got to be something we can do," Buffy said for the fourth time in the last half-hour.

Willow gritted her teeth to keep from shouting at her friend. It had only been two days since they'd found Xander and already, Buffy was going crazy with the need to *do* something. She needed very badly to go out and beat the crap out of something, in Willow's opinion.

"We should tell Giles," Buffy said decisively.

Willow's eyes narrowed and her features took on the stubborn, set expression of her "resolve face". "No. Absolutely not. Buffy, if Xander were a minor, that would be the best choice but he's an adult now. We can't *force* him to leave. So since he has to make the decision on his own, we can't afford to alienate him. He's going to be pissed when he finds out we know, imagine what he'd feel like if *Giles* showed up to talk to him."

"Fine. I'll go over there and kill his father. There wouldn't be a problem with him leaving then, would there?" Buffy said flatly.

"Buffy!" Willow said sharply. Not that Willow didn't agree with the sentiment but she was pretty sure Buffy wouldn't be able to handle killing a human quite as easily as she thought she would. Buffy shot her a mutinous look that showed her to be completely unrepentant.

"Well, what do you expect me to do, Willow? That's what I do. When something's threatening one of my friends, I go out and kill it!"

"I expect you to calm down, and use your head as something other than a battering ram for the nearest brick wall!" Buffy blinked at her in shock for a moment and Willow softened her tone somewhat. "Buffy, brute force doesn't always work. You know that. If it did, then there wouldn't be any need for Watchers, would there? You Slayers could just go around the world kicking butt and not worrying about anything else. You can't just walk in there and drag Xander out by the scruff of the neck."

Abruptly, Buffy dropped down into the nearest chair, and rested her head in her hands. "You're right. I know you're right, Willow. It's just...God, did you see his back? It's going to scar..."

It was on the tip of Willow's tongue to scream that of course she saw it, for God's sake. She sure hadn't been crying over the dismal interior decorating job in the basement. "Yeah, Buffy. Yeah, I saw it." Willow sat down next to Buffy and put an arm around her as she started to sniffle a little. "We've got to look at this in a practical way, as hard as it may be in this case. If we can't force him to leave, then we have to make it so that he *can* leave. Spike said he doesn't have the money right now. That means he has to get a job that pays more than minimum wage, right?"

"Yeah, so? Where are we going to find him a job that pays really good money in Sunnydale?"

Willow's grin was calculating. "You remember Kenny? The guy I was tutoring in Chemistry...?"

* * * * *

Spike sat in the basement, supposedly watching a late-night rerun of Passions. In reality, though, he was listening to the muffled curses coming from the bathroom, where Xander had disappeared a couple of minutes before. Spike had finally caught a clue earlier that evening, when he had gone in the bathroom directly after the boy, and the faint hint of blood in the air had made his mouth water.

Spike cursed himself for an idiot for not thinking that the kicks to the kidneys might have caused some damage. He resolved to pay attention, and if the blood and curses when Xander hit the bathroom didn't stop in the next five days or so, he'd be going to the hospital, even if Spike had to knock him out to get him there.

There was the sound of a toilet flushing and water running in the sink, then Xander walked out the door a moment later. Spike very carefully *didn't* look up as Xander picked a slow path across the room. The boy had seemed more nervous during the second day after the attack, and by this, the third day, Xander jumped and got the "kicked puppy" look that Spike absolutely hated, at any little thing Spike did.

Sighing, Spike turned off the television and right on cue, Xander jumped nervously. Spike frowned irritably, but his voice was soft as he said,

"It's not you."

"W-What? What are you talking about?" If Xander's voice got any higher he'd be singing soprano.

"You didn't do anything. I'm not mad at you. I'm not ashamed of you. I'm not going to make fun of you. At least not because of this. I don't think any less of you, not that I thought that much of you to begin with.." Spike said this with a small, sardonic smile on his face to let Xander know he was teasing him. "The only one who holds the blame in my eyes is that bugger-fucking father of yours and he's going to die before too long, now," he said matter-of-factly. "Do we have any blood left?"

Spike was up and out of the chair before Xander could stop gaping like a fish. Possible responses kept coming to mind and were rejected, one by one. Finally, his mouth shut with an audible pop, and he said, "There's an emergency stock in the freezer." A moment of silence went by, in which they both tried very hard to pretend they weren't tense enough to shatter.

"Thanks, Spike. I'm going to take a nap." Xander blurted everything out in a rush, then scurried for the bed, and safety. Spike pulled a frozen packet of blood out and started heating it up, wordlessly.

Upon returning, he turned the television back on, only to find he'd made it back in time for the last five minutes of Passions. Rolling his eyes, he sat and drank his blood in silence.

* * * * *

Xander lay in bed, pretending to be asleep, while he knew there wasn't any way in the world he was fooling the vampire. Good God, how had Spike known just what Xander needed to hear? There was a big part of him that expected Spike to look at him in disgust after what had happened, regardless of how many times he had heard the "abuse is not the victim's fault" lecture at school.

That was for women. He was a man. He should have stopped his father. Damnit, Xander was nineteen years old, he shouldn't need anyone to rescue him! The old, familiar fear washed over him and he wondered what he had done to make his father come after him "that way". The beatings he could handle but the thought that he was putting out some kind of weird, gay *fuck me* signal was terrifying. Terrifying mainly because if it had been a certain bleached vampire, rather than his father, he would have loved the existence of just such a signal. Despair washed over him and he sniffled a bit as he turned, very carefully angling onto his back to see if it could handle any weight on it. He hissed a little but it itched more than it hurt, so long as he didn't move.

God, he wanted more than anything to just pick up and leave. Hit the road and never come back. If not for his mother, he would have been gone years ago. Anger and pity swelled within him as he pictured her at her familiar post at the kitchen table. Many of his memories of her were of a small, mousy woman with her head down, staring into the coffee mug that was filled with more liquor than coffee as his father backhanded him into the wall. He could remember vividly the expression on her face at times like that. Desperate sorrow for him, weariness with the entire situation and the stronger feeling of relief that it wasn't her. It was this last emotion, Xander knew, that had kept her silent. The fear that if she said anything, his father would turn his rage on her, not that he didn't most of the time, anyway.

Having quit school in the eleventh grade, there was nothing his mother could do to earn her way in the world, and after twenty-some-odd years with the elder Mr. Harris, she was just too terrified to try. At least she knew, and was familiar with, the demon that resided in her home.

{She doesn't know just how real those *other* demons out there are, does she Alexander?} Xander couldn't restrain a watery, bittersweet chuckle. It was pretty goddamned pathetic when he lived on the Hellmouth, hung out with the Slayer, fought demons on a regular basis and yet stood an almost fifty-fifty chance of getting killed at home, rather than on the streets of Sunnydale.

Xander was horrified when the ironic chuckle turned into a weak sob that he couldn't, quite, stifle in time. He immediately flipped back over on his side, away from Spike, praying that Spike would honor their unspoken agreement to just *not hear* some stuff. Silent tears wound their way down his cheeks and he stiffened as the television was clicked off with a soft sigh from the other occupant of the room. The rustle of cloth sliding over skin and then,

"Shove over. I wanna take a nap." As covers went, it was pretty pathetic but it allowed them to keep at least the semblance of macho aloofness.

Which was immediately blown to hell as Spike's cool arm slipped around Xander's waist, and his head rested proprietarily on the boy's shoulder. Xander felt the outline of the sharp cheekbone against his skin as Spike *nuzzled* him softly, attempting to comfort him.

For a moment, Xander stiffened so much, Spike would have though there was a steel bar up his spine. In response, Spike started that familiar rumble in his chest that seemed to massage its way up and down Xander's sore back, and it was all Xander could do not to moan in happiness. He slowly relaxed again and they lay silently for a few minutes.

"It's all so fucked up, Spike," Xander whispered unhappily as the last of the quiet tears trailed off, leaving only emptiness behind. "I can't ever leave. I'll be here until he kills me, or her, or both of us."

Spike's arms tightened fractionally, and he whispered harshly into Xander's ear, "You're gonna get out of here soon, Xander. You and your mum. I promise. There's no way I'll let that bloody bastard kill you, pet."

Xander's only response was a light sniffle and a tug to pull Spike's arm closer around him.

Spike's head tilted up a little, leaning in to Xander's ear, and the vampire whispered, "Do you believe me, pet?"

Xander squeezed Spike's hand softly. "No. Go to sleep."

* * * * *

Spike lay motionless as he waited for Xander to fall asleep, his thoughts swirling around in chaos. He didn't know why, but it seemed important to him that Xander believe that Spike was going to get him out of the mess that was his life. There was just something about the way Xander had answered "no" so easily, that bothered Spike. He wanted the boy to trust him and Xander had answered in a tone that carried an unspoken, "I don't believe you but I love it that *you* actually believe what you're saying". The inherent world-weariness in that tone had almost hurt Spike to listen to. He tightened his hold on Xander, who let out a little squeak of protest, without waking up. Spike stroked apologetically over Xander's stomach and let up on some of the pressure.

Spike's thoughts returned to the half-formed idea of the night before. He wanted Xander out of the basement more than almost anything, but the boy had to have a job that could support him and keep Spike in blood and smokes. Unfortunately, Spike couldn't really help him get a *legal* job that paid well. The only people Spike knew well enough to get the whelp a job would be likely to put Xander in one of several...entertainment...industries. There was no way *his* Xan-pet was going to be anyone's whore, *or* an appetizer during the evening show. Don't think so.

So if *he* couldn't get Xander a job, then he'd just have to find someone who could, which led him back to his almost-thought of the night before. The Witch and the Slayer were in college. They had to be friends with a lot of blokes that had decent jobs to cover their outrageous tuition bills. Surely they could put out feelers for *something*... thinking back over some of the jobs the boy had had, Spike knew Xander wasn't picky about *where* he worked.

Spike glanced over at the digital clock by the bed. Already two a.m. Too late to call either of them tonight. He'd have to do it early the next evening. Surely Red would be able to find something out for him. He *really* hated to think about having to ask the Slayer for help, but he would if there were no other alternative.

He lay there for the next several hours, unable to calm down enough to sleep. Burning for some outlet for the rage-spawned energy of the last couple of days, but unwilling to leave Xander in the middle of the night to go and beat the crap out of some nameless demon somewhere.

Just to make sure the whelp didn't hurt himself falling out of bed, of course. Not because it just wasn't the same without the boy's sarcastic wit as the soundtrack for the night.

{Yeah. Never mind the fact that he's doing a lot better today and is currently sleeping like a log.}

{Did I ask you?} The voice slowly subsided and Spike gritted his teeth, trying to force his body to go to sleep early. Maybe they could go out on a limited patrol tomorrow, with Xander in an "observer only" status. He needed to talk to Red, anyway...

* * * * *

Loud thumping upstairs woke Xander and he held his breath, praying that his father would just pass out instead of coming downstairs. A few tense moments later and the main floor of the house was silent. Xander let out a shaky breath. He was living on borrowed time and he knew it. His father had given him three days to get the rent to him and time was ticking by quickly. If he didn't have the money by that night...

Xander swung his legs around and stood up carefully, noting that he was feeling a *lot* less woozy this morning. Good thing, too, since he was going to have to go get what little he'd managed to earn from Jack-in-the-Box before he'd been fired. He actually thought it was sweet, the way that Spike erased the message a little more aggressively then absolutely necessary. He was growling the whole time, too, and that had gone a long way toward warming Xander's insides. It was nice that *someone* was protective of him, at least a little.

Xander frowned as he stepped carefully into his jeans. The only person who'd shown him any hint of protectiveness was a one-hundred-twenty-five year old killer vampire.

Yep. His fucked up life, no doubt about it.

He rooted through the closet and grabbed his loosest fitting shirt, slipping it gingerly over his head as he turned back to the bed to check on Spike. Still out like a light and safely away from any sunbeams. Xander stood by the bed for a moment, an unexpected swell of emotion threatening to choke him. For someone who was supposed to be evil incarnate, Spike had been incredibly gentle and patient with him the last couple of days. Oh, he tried to talk a tough game but actions spoke louder than words, and the extreme care he had taken with Xander was more than what was strictly warranted by the chip.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours, Spike. Sweet dreams." God, he was turning into a sap. Maybe his father had given him a concussion this time and he just hadn't realized it. Shaking his head at his own insanity, Xander walked quietly up the stairs. Once his father had passed out for the day, that was pretty well it, but he didn't want to tempt fate. He hated the thought of leaving Spike alone in the house with him, but if Xander didn't get the rent money, Spike was going to be pulling a lot more nursing duty, or Xander was going to end up in the hospital. Neither prospect sounded appealing, so Xander pushed his worry for the vampire out of his mind and resolved to get back as quickly as possible.

Two hours later, he was back home, two-hundred and seventy-five dollars richer... for about ten minutes. As he walked into the living room, his father was staggering out of the bedroom, hours ahead of schedule. Xander swallowed a surge of nausea at the thought of his father waking and going looking for him while he'd been gone...

"Here's this month's rent."

Xander's father took it wordlessly. He reached out, slapping Xander with more force and better aim than the boy would have thought him capable of, considering he was still wasted. Xander staggered backwards, tripped over an end table and crashed to the floor.

His father grunted but never looked up from his bee-line to the bathroom. Xander lay there for a long while, taking short, panting breaths and trying to get the black spots in front of his eyes to go away. By the time he'd succeeded, his father was back in his bedroom snoring, so the way to the basement was safe. White as a sheet and holding his ribs protectively, Xander groped for the railing, holding it in a death grip, as he was sure a fall down the stairs wasn't the best idea at the moment.

He staggered to the bed and collapsed on it, still fully dressed.

{It could have been worse. At least he didn't re-injure anything.} A spark of fury lit in Xander's eyes.

{Damn it. I didn't do anything! I just handed him the rent. Why the hell did he have to hit me?}

{Don't be a fool. He's never needed a reason to hit you and you know it. Moaning about it isn't going to change anything, so live with it, or leave. You've known the options for a great many years, now.} Tears stung his eyes and he couldn't figure out for the life of him if they were tears of rage or sorrow. The little boy inside him railed at the unfairness of the blow. Against the fact that he had done nothing to provoke it, even though it had happened that same way many, many times in the past.

{I hate him! God, I hate him so much! What the hell did I ever do to him? Why couldn't he love me the way Joyce loves Buffy? I did my best...}

Xander was hard-pressed to ignore the sudden, fierce desire for Spike's comforting touch of the last few days. It was only early afternoon and Spike wouldn't wake for another three or four hours at least. Cursing himself as ten different kinds of an idiot, he still snuggled up to the motionless form sharing his bed. Spike was sleeping with his shirt off and Xander rested his throbbing cheek on the cool skin of the vampire's shoulder, tucking his head under Spike's chin almost defiantly.

Still preoccupied with thoughts of his father, Xander closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It was a wasted effort, though, as he lay there, watching the shadows lengthening across his floor, unconsciously counting the minutes until Spike might wake up.

At almost five-thirty, the body under his stirred a little and Xander almost moved off of him. At the last moment, he decided to wait and see what Spike would do. A ripple of surprise went through him as Spike's arm came up to settle around his shoulders and the vampire let out a contented sigh. Long, pale fingers began to tangle in his hair, petting him.

"Mmmm...everything all right, pet."

"Sure. Everything's fine, Spike." The words didn't come out quite as steadily, or as strongly, as he'd wished and Spike tensed under him, shifting him easily to the side as he slid out from under Xander.

"You're dressed."

"You think?" Xander snapped back, sitting up, and somewhat irritated at having his pillow taken away.

Spike grinned slightly. "I meant to say, Why are you dressed, pet?"

"I had to go get my last paycheck so I could pay the rent." Xander turned his head and looked away from Spike as he spoke. Instantly Spike started growling fiercely and Xander barely stopped himself from jumping back across the bed as the vampire's hand shot out and grasped his chin. He couldn't restrain a sharp flinch, but Spike still refused to let him go, though he kept his grip gentle. He angled Xander's head slightly towards the bedside lamp.

"Did *he* do this?"

Xander opened his mouth to make a flippant reply, or a joke, but the look on Spike's face killed the words before he could voice them. Instead, he nodded once, very slightly. Spike surged to his feet, his features shimmering into gameface. Xander pulled back, more than a little frightened as he watched Spike pace the room. From the look of him, he was searching intently for something to rip to shreds.

Angry. Spike was angry. Because his father had hit him. Just a little slap, that's all. Nothing serious. But Spike was furious. Rage and helplessness broadcast itself at top volume in Spike's body language and Xander felt something inside himself melt as he watched the blonde man pace around his bed. Xander stood and took a step forward.

* * * * *

His demon roared in fury. *Twice*. It had happened twice and both bloody times, Spike had been *asleep*. Once was bad enough, but twice... He was going to kill The Bastard. If it took him to the ends of the earth, if it was the last thing he saw before he went to hell, he would see The Bastard's still-beating heart ripped from his chest.

Spike panted with the need to hit something. Howl at the sky. Drain someone. Something. But there was nothing. He was so involved in his own inner conflict, he never heard Xander move. Gentle hands turned him around and calm, dark brown eyes stared into his yellow ones. Xander looked almost hypnotized as his hand reached up and trailed softly across Spike's brow ridges, his fingers molding the curves and points just over the bridge of Spike's nose. Spike gasped in unexpected pleasure.

"Pet, what..."

Xander leaned up and very, very, gently, pressed his lips against Spike's. Just like that, all the rage went out of Spike and his arms crept around Xander's waist. Xander's mouth opened slightly and his tongue danced across Spike's fangs delicately, tracing them down to the very point and back up again.

Spike groaned into Xander's mouth and fought the urge to throw the boy down onto the bed. Never. He would *never* treat Xander like The Bastard had.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, gameface shifting away as his eyes searched for Xander's.

"Why'd ya do that, pet?"

Xander looked at him steadily for a moment. "Because you make me happy."

Spike blinked at him, confused. "Me pacing around, raging like a useless bloody poof makes you happy?"

"No," Xander answered evenly. "You getting this upset over something as simple as a slap makes me happy."

Spike's eyes flared yellow, just a little. "Yeah, well. Nobody bloody well gets to slap you unless I'm there to make fun of you for it."

Xander's soft smile told Spike that his attempt at blustering hadn't worked but strangely, Spike couldn't bring himself to care all that much.

"How are you feeling tonight, pet? Still really sore?" Spike knew this came out with an almost pathetic expression of hope on his face and an eager note in his voice.

Xander arched an eyebrow. "I was a little sore earlier. When he hit me, I fell against an end table and my ribs were very unhappy with me for it, but I feel a lot better after my nap." Xander's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Spike blinked innocently. "I just thought you might like a nice, quiet outing this evening."

Xander snorted. "Nice, quiet evening? In Sunnydale? You wanna go beat the hell out of some poor demon."

"Uh huh. So? You wanna?" Spike asked hopefully.

Xander sighed. He didn't really feel up to demonic aerobics already, but Spike had been so incredibly kind to him that he didn't really have the heart to refuse him.

"As long as I'm limited to the cheering section only, it sounds okay. Let's call Buffy and Willow."

* * * * *

As it turned out, Willow had been about to call him. He was nervous. She had all but squealed when she heard who it was on the phone and had immediately demanded that he and Spike head over to Buffy's house before they go patrolling.

Xander stayed fairly quiet during the first part of the walk over. "She sounded so eager, Spike. She only sounds that way when she has some idea, like the one that blew up the chemistry lab in ninth grade. I'm scared."

Spike smirked at him. "Well, I'm sure if she's planning on blowing anything up, she'll make sure you're out of the way, first."

Xander kicked at a rock morosely. "Hell. Half the time, the great ideas directly concern me and they almost always get me into trouble. She gets this look on her face that makes you think of Zeus directing the lives of his pathetic little mortals."

Spike's smirk grew bigger. "Nice imagery, pet. I should give that a try sometime."

Xander made a face at him. "Immortal you may be, but Zeus you are *not*. Don't even think about getting any delusions of godhood with me."

"Hmmph. As if you'd let me." They kept up their playful bantering all the way to Willow's house, but Spike was a little distracted. He couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. Or, more accurately, about Xander's reaction to it. The boy hadn't shown any indication of regretting it, or being uncomfortable about it in the least. Spike was elated. If Xander was that comfortable with it, then that meant there was a chance, someday, of the two of them getting together.

Spike wouldn't push it, but an almost evil smile crossed his face as he realized he might possibly be taking himself a consort sometime soon.

Xander drifted closer to Spike as they walked and by the time they reached the path at Buffy's house, they were almost brushing shoulders. Spike glanced over at him in amusement, but said nothing to discourage him. It was obvious that the boy was still nervous about Red's plotting and if Spike got to reap the rewards of that...well...all the better.

Spike jumped a bit as the front door slammed open and what looked like a Willow on speed came flying out.

"Xander! God, I'm so glad to see you up and moving around! Are you okay? Are you feeling better? How's your back? You didn't run into your father when you left tonight, did you?"

Spike looked at her in open-mouthed horror. Whatever she had on her mind, it must have sapped her brain cells as well.

"Willow!" he hissed.

She stopped her babbling and looked over at Spike, then back at the confused expression on Xander's face which was rapidly changing into a look of betrayal. "You didn't tell him."

"No, you stupid bint, but you did, so I guess we don't have to worry about it now, huh?" Spike shot back somewhat acidly.

"Wills, how did you know..." Xander's dark brown eyes glinted at her, not quite accusing, but almost.

"We were worried about you when you missed the meeting at Giles'. We went over and Buffy thought you might just be asleep, so we went to the window to see and Spike had just finished cleaning your back, so we saw..." Willow broke off her monologue miserably and looked down at her hands. Xander turned and looked at Spike.

"You told her," he said flatly. Spike shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes were reproachful.

"He didn't have a choice, seeing as I was about to stake him at the time since I thought he was the one who did it." Buffy stepped off the front step and looked at him critically. "That bruise on your cheek doesn't look four days old," she said noncommittally. Xander flushed miserably and Spike surprised them all by putting an arm around his shoulders.

She looked at them a while longer, then said, "Come inside. Willow's got something she needs to tell you before she explodes." A look over at Willow revealed that, yes, she was back to hyper again, all but shoving them in the house as she scurried up the stairs.

* * * * *

Spike and Xander found themselves sitting on the sofa next to each other, under the assessing stare of the Slayer. Xander shifted like a kid in the principal's office but Spike just smirked at her and slung his arm around Xander.

"So where's Joyce?" Xander asked, searching desperately for a topic that would keep the conversation away from himself.

"She's visiting Giles. They have...I don't know...Tea Time, or something, once or twice a week. I think they really like each other." Buffy looked distracted for a moment as she answered and Xander wondered just how comfortable she'd be having her Watcher as a step-father.

The kitchen door opened, startling them all, and Willow walked out carrying four Diet Cokes. Xander took his gratefully, happy just to have something to occupy his hands.
Spike looked at the can Willow set down in front of him like it was about to bite him.

"What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with that?" Willow just stared at him a minute, then blushed beet red.

"Uh, yeah. I guess you wouldn't like Diet Coke much, would you. With the whole drinking blood thing and all..." All three of them just stared at Willow. "I can't help it," she said defensively. "I get forgetful when I'm nervous."

"Then maybe you should tell us why you're nervous," Xander said reasonably.

"Yeah. Okay. I could do that. Okay. Well, I know you might still be upset about the whole 'Buffy and I finding out about your dad' thing, but Xander, you really need to get out of there." She looked at him seriously, her eyes betraying her concern for him and he couldn't find it in his heart to be angry with her.

"Willow, I can't... There're problems...with me leaving."

Willow brightened at this. "Yeah, I know. Spike told us you didn't really have the money to move out, so I asked around campus and Kenny, in my Chemistry class, says there's a job on his construction site. His dad owns the site and Kenny says the job's yours, if you want it. It's hourly pay, $12.50 starting out. It's heavy work but you're strong. You can do it. And it'll make you more than enough to move out. So...what do you think?"

Xander's mouth opened and closed convulsively for a moment. "Wills, I don't know what to say."

Buffy and Spike were staring at him as well and Xander was starting to feel like a bug under a microscope.

"Just say you'll take the job and get out of there," Buffy said seriously.

"I-I can't." {Christ}, Xander thought. {That didn't even sound forceful to *me*}

"What???" All three of them chorused. Xander had to suppress an hysterical giggle.

"My Mom-"

"Can bloody fucking well grow a spine and leave, just like you're going to!!" Spike growled dangerously at Xander's tentative protest. "Xander, she's watched him beat the shit out of you for years and done nothing. You don't owe her bloody *anything*."

"As much as I hate to say it, Spike's right, Xander," Buffy said with a warning glare shot to the vampire. "Unless the victim in an abusive relationship is ready to leave, no amount of coaxing is going to get them to make a stand. You're ready to leave, Xander. If she isn't then...too bad for her."

"Buffy!" Willow hissed.
"Sorry, Willow. I'd feel a whole hell of a lot more sympathetic towards her if she hadn't just stood by and watched her husband beat the hell out of her son."

"Guys, she's my mom. I can't just leave her there with him."

Buffy turned and looked him in the eyes. "Then you tell her you're leaving. Ask her to come with you and if she says no, she has to deal with the consequences of her actions."

"She's a grown woman, Xander," Willow said softly. "I know she's your mother and you want to protect her but you have to think of yourself, now. If she says no, she says no. All you can do, is be there for her when she *is* ready and you can't do that if he beats you to death, now can you?"

"I...I......It just seems so...disloyal, somehow."

Buffy and Spike were visibly fighting to keep from lashing out at this but Willow was the diplomatic one.

"If you're going to talk loyalty, Xander, I think hers was gone a long, long time ago. Think of it as Tough Love. If it works on kids, it'll work on adults too." She leaned in close and laid her hand on his knee, palm up. "You know it's the only way."

Xander bowed his head and blinked furiously to keep the tears at bay. God, he didn't want to be hearing this. He didn't want to have to make these decisions. He wanted his mother to just wake up one morning and decide *that day* was the day they were leaving...

"Yeah," he said finally. "I know it. I was just trying to pretend I didn't." He looked up at Willow miserably, but grasped her outstretched hand, and squeezed tightly.

"We're leaving, then?" Spike asked quietly.

Xander cleared his throat before he answered, much more strongly than before.

"Yeah, Fangless. We're leaving."

~*fini*~