Xander awoke slowly, becoming gradually aware that he was in strange
surroundings. As he opened his eyes, he remembered the previous night with
Ethan. He rolled over, thinking he'd find Ethan next to him, but he was
alone in the bed.

Xander couldn't suppress a disappointed sigh as he sat up, forcing himself
awake and looking around for his clothing. He'd sort of hoped that Ethan
might still be there . . .

"You're finally up." Xander looked up to see Ethan emerge from the
bathroom, clearly having just showered. Having not quite reached the stage
of coherence yet, Xander merely nodded.

"Let me guess," Ethan continued. "You're mute until you've had your
coffee." Xander nodded again, emphatically. Ethan smiled.

"There's some waiting in the kitchen. Your clothes are in the bathroom. I
thought you might like a shower."

"Thanks."

**********

Twenty minutes later, Xander was showered, dressed, and in the kitchen,
sipping coffee so strong it almost hurt his tongue, even with the amount of
cream and sugar he'd added.

Ethan sat down with his own coffee, black, and took a swallow with no
apparent difficulty. "It's nearly ten thirty," he remarked. "Will you need
a ride to school?"

Xander tried to imagine how Giles might react if he showed up to class with
Ethan. "No, thanks." Then, as the caffeine finally penetrated his brain, he
realized something. "Why are you being so nice?"

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Beg pardon?"

"Well, you're a bad guy. I'm a good guy. It just seems a little off."

"Well, if you prefer that I tie you up and sacrifice you to something large
and slimy . . ."

Xander gave him an annoyed look. Ethan sighed. It was becoming clear that
the casual, roundabout method he had planned was not going to wash. He
decided to try the opposite approach.

"In all honesty - for a change - I've been trying to butter you up so that
you might be more willing to tell me a few things about yourself." He
shrugged. "I could use magick, but there's something to be said for the
conventional approach."

Xander was instantly on guard. "What things?"

Another shrug. Sip of coffee. "I want to know who it is who has convinced
you that doesn't matter whether or not you enjoy yourself in bed," Ethan
replied matter-of-factly.

Xander came dangerously close to pulling a classic spit take, but he was
able to recover. He swallowed and snapped,

"There's also a lot to be said for tact, y'know!"

"I was being tactful," Ethan pointed out. "You didn't like it."

Unable to argue with the truth in that, Xander settled for a death glare
instead. Not particularly effected, Ethan continued.

"Now don't brush this aside without thinking about it, and certainly don't
feel as though you have to tell me anything. Just think about this for a
moment: wouldn't it be nice to air things out to a neutral third party?"

Xander did think about that. There were things inside him - anger,
humiliation, hate - that sometimes threatened to choke him with their
density. Talking about them might let them out a little, might put some of
their weight into the air and take some of their weight out of his chest.
He wanted to talk. But the only person he could have talked to before was
Giles, and he just couldn't do that. He'd already gotten Giles raped. It
wouldn't be fair to add his own pain to the trauma he'd already caused. And
the way Giles was about things - accepting responsibility for everything -
would make things worse. If he were to know that what had happened to him
was destroying Xander's nights, making him hate the lover he couldn't risk
turning down, he would blame himself, saying that it was his fault, that he
had made Xander go to the library that night. Xander couldn't do that to
him, so he'd remained silent and carried the weight himself.

But now here was Ethan, offering him a chance to let some of it out. But -
it was Ethan. Bad Ethan. Ethan who'd almost gotten so many people killed on
Halloween, and who had tried to distract a deadly demon by offering up
Buffy. Sleeping with him, Xander realized now that he could finally think
properly, had been stupid enough. Telling him all those things? Some of it
wasn't even his to tell. Some of it belonged to Giles.

Xander had been staring blankly into his coffee mug, but now he refocussed
and looked up at Ethan. The older man was watching him with gentle patience
in his eyes, which gave Xander a sudden new factor to think about.

At least Ethan had noticed. Ethan, a virtual stranger, had noticed the pain
that Xander's own friends and family hadn't picked up on. The thought was
huge.

Xander made his decision.

"At first it was fun." he paused. "No. Scratch that. At first it was
weird." He returned his gaze to his coffee cup. "I mean, I was used to
hating him. Even before he went bad." He gave the cup a wry smile. "And it
didn't really help that he's Buffy's ex."

Ethan's eyebrows raised as he made the connection. What an odd match. But
even as he was surprised, it began to make sense - Xander's behavior last
night certainly matched up with what he knew about Angelus. It also
explained those vampires' sudden flight . . .

Oblivious, Xander continued. "But after I got used to it, it was fun. It
was exciting and a little dangerous - well, a lot dangerous, I guess - and
it felt good. It felt really good," he amended with a slight blush. "He was
rough sometimes, but I guess I figured it was okay. You know. It was worth
it." He paused for a long moment, trying to figure out how to tell the next
part without saying Giles's name. Giles wouldn't want Ethan to know
something like this. "But one night," he finally resumed, "he attacked one
of my friends, right in front of me. It was my fault. I made him angry." He
closed his eyes, remembering the attack vividly. He had all but forgotten
Ethan's presence. "Now it's all I can think about, every night. I can hear
him hurting G - I can hear it and I hate it but I can't stop or he'll do it
again!" he finished in a half-coherent rush.

Silence. Xander kept his eyes shut, not wanting to look at Ethan. For his
part, Ethan maintained the quiet to give Xander a chance to pull himself
back together. As time passed, Xander became aware that he was trembling,
and realized that his hands had clenched into fists. He began to fight to
make his body relax.

Several minutes passed before Xander collected himself sufficiently to open
his eyes. When he did, he found that Ethan, rather than sit and watch him,
had busied himself with a week-old section of the newspaper. Tact from a
Bad Guy, twice in one day. Who knew?

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"You're quite welcome," Ethan replied, tossing the paper absently to one
side and sipping his coffee. Xander sighed faintly, relieved that Ethan
hadn't asked what he was being thanked for, because Xander wouldn't have
known where to start. He turned his attention to his own coffee, feeling a
little lighter than before.

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