BuffyWorld

James Walkswithwind (who maintains the story and gave me permission to post it here), over at Gila's Cave, and Wolfling, who has a Den, co-wrote the Sands of Time series.  After a particularly brutal beating from his father, Xander runs to Giles, which pretty much changes everything.  This is a revamped version from late season 1 through season 4 with a lovely twist at the end, and when I say lovely I mean so devestating that, after the first read, I couldn't bring myself to look at the story again for years.  However, I've just reread it and am much happier with the ending; forewarned is forearmed apparently.

He wondered, though, if they would get around to The Talk again today.

They've had some form of it every morning he'd stayed over. Giles was never pushy about it, or demanding. But he kept trying to get Xander to talk about it. Trying to get him to *do* something.

Xander didn't want to. He didn't want to so much that, a few nights, he'd stayed home just to not have this conversation the next morning. But each time he stayed the night at Giles' place, the harder it was to go home at all.

Giles was watching him and Xander realized he'd just been asked something which he hadn't heard. "Umm... huh?" Smoothly, of course. How could he expect anything less?

"I was just wondering if you'd come to a decision yet?" It was asked as casually as it had been all the other mornings.

"Oh." He turned back to his pancakes, pancakes with blueberries and walnuts in them, something he hadn't known was possible. He couldn't imagine not wanting them this way, now. "No, I--" He wanted to stop and let it be his decision. 'No.' But that meant not coming back, not staying here at night anymore.

But 'yes' meant...

"You can't continue like this, Xander." Giles was looking at his plate as he spoke.

Xander sighed. Usually it took Giles a bit longer to reach this point. Apparently he was finally trying the other man's patience. Maybe... too far. That realization led to another. "I guess I'll go home, then," he said quietly. He set his fork down. He wasn't
really hungry now.

"Xander-" Giles reached out and caught his arm. "If you're not going to do anything, I'm going to have to."

Xander's head snapped up. "What?" This was new; usually Giles just told him he should do something. Tell someone, find a counselor, move out of his parents' home. He'd even offered his own place to move to. But he'd always -- til now -- left it as Xander's decision.

"I work in a public school. It's my legal responsibility to report any suspected abuse."

Xander's throat closed over any response he could have made. Staring back down at his not-so-tasty pancakes, he tried to say something resembling a response. "What if I said you didn't have any proof?" he finally said, glancing back up warily.

"Proof isn't needed. It's any suspicion." The older man met his gaze steadily. "And I have what I've seen and what I've heard. Proof or not, I *know*."

Xander felt his bottom lip beginning to twitch, and bit on it. He knew if he sat here too long, Giles would take the decision out of his hands. Is that what he wanted? Not to have to decide? Or did he want the answer to be so desperately yes, that he was afraid to say so?

Finally, before he hoped it was too late, he whispered, "If you report it, everyone will know."