Pairing: References to Buffy/Giles and Xander/Anya. Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Through Hell's Bells. Summary: Xander needs some advice from someone wise... and gives some back. Xander lay on the narrow, lumpy motel mattress and stared at the ceiling. He didn't want to think about what the stains were, but at least it made a change from the vision in his mind's eye of Anya, tear-stained and desolate when he left her to tell everyone the wedding was off, after all. It was better this way, he told himself, hoping that if he did that often enough it might make him believe it as completely as he had in that moment of clarity at the lodge. At last the combination of the soggy tux and the lumpy bed made him uncomfortable enough that he had to move, no matter how much he didn't want to. He didn't deserve to be comfortable. He'd let Anya down. He'd made his parents spend a fortune on a wedding that didn't even happen. He'd made Buffy and Willow and Tara and Dawn all wear those hideous dresses in public for no reason. Halfrick he couldn't bring himself to feel as badly about. But still. He decided to take a shower. At least maybe that way he wouldn't catch the flu. Of course if he did, there was the comforting theory that it would turn to pneumonia and maybe he would die from it. Did people die of pneumonia anymore? He wasn't sure. The only person he knew who would know was too far away to ask. The hot water was tepid and drizzled out in a depressing way. Xander cut his shower short. Of course, now that he was nominally clean, he had no dry clothes to wear. He put on his soggy boxers anyway. Well, damp. They'd dried a little bit while he waited for the shower to heat up. "So," he said to himself since there was nobody else to talk to in the dingy room, "what the hell do I do now?" Nobody answered. What does a guy do when he's stood up the girl of his dreams at the altar and he's stuck in a crummy motel with nothing but the rented tux on his back and the sour feeling of defeat in his stomach? He knew there was one person on the planet who would understand and give him good advice. Xander picked up the phone and called the international operator. * * * * * Giles was startled when the phone beside his bed began to ring. He put on his glasses and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Who the hell would be ringing at two twenty in the morning? "Yes, hello?" "Giles? Is that you?" "Xander?" "Got it in one, big guy." Giles was concerned at the slightly forced tone to the quip. "Xander, are you quite alright?" "Never better," he lied through his teeth. "If you're sure. Is... is everyone okay?" "I'm fine. We're all fine." "Then to what do I owe this pleasure in the middle of my night?" Xander swallowed hard. He couldn't believe how much he'd missed Giles getting snippy with him. "Nothing, really. I just wanted to say hi." "Just wanted... Xander, I know what day this is. I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you, but..." "No big. Really. It's probably better you didn't see it, anyway." "What happened?" "Not that much. Just another wedding, y'know." "No it wasn't," Giles challenged him. "You don't sound at all the way a newlywed should, and I haven't heard Anya make one reference to your sex life yet. There was no wedding today, was there?" "You got me, Big G," Xander laughed shakily. "Can't get anything past you, can I?" "Tell me," he said quietly. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it to her." "Do what?" "I couldn't... tie her down to me. She deserves better than me." "Xander..." "No, let me finish, Giles. See, this guy came to the wedding and said he was me - me from way in the future - and he showed me what our marriage was gonna be like. Giles... it was terrible. I gave up and Anya slept around because I wouldn't even touch her anymore and I got old and crabby and mean and useless and then... I can't do that to her. Not to Anya." He broke down, unable to hold back the tears anymore. Giles waited patiently for the gulping sobs to slow and finally end before he spoke again. "How do you know what you were shown was true? And even if it was, it doesn't have to be that way." "It wasn't true. Turns out it was some guy Anya cursed back in her vengeance days. He decided vengeance was pretty tasty and decided to give her a treat." "Then why...? I don't understand." "You didn't see him, Giles." "This... this disgruntled person who told you a pack of lies?" "No," Xander finally admitted. "My dad." "I've met your father, Xander." "Yeah, so you know." "Know what?" "What I'm going to be like in another twenty-five, thirty years." "Don't be ridiculous..." "I'm not. I'm being realistic for once in my life. My whole family is made up of lushes and losers, and loser lushes. They drink too much, they have no self control, they're mean and they're cruel to each other. They treat everyone in their paths like dirt. That's what I come from. That's who I'm gonna be, too. That guy may have told me lies about the exact stuff that's gonna happen, but he showed me what I am. What I would do to Anya if I married her. I don't ever want to treat her the way my dad treats my mom." "And you won't. You are not your father." "You sure about that? 'Cause I've been taking a long hard look at me and I don't see that much difference." "I see a big difference. Your father is an alcoholic, unemployable bully. You... for all your faults, and they are myriad, are a good man. You're responsible and brave and you care deeply about those around you." "I can see the writing on the wall, though. I come from crap, and to crap I shall return, taking the woman I love with me if I marry her." "That isn't true and you know it. Geneology is not destiny." "Pretty funny coming from a third generation Watcher." "A Watcher I may be, but not the sort my father was. Biology may have chosen the color of your eyes and hair and skin, but it doesn't make your choices for you. It doesn't determine how you will treat the woman you marry." "Giles, I'm already doing it. I've been thinking a lot in the last few hours, and I'm already turning into my dad. I - I've been thinking about some of the things I've said to Anya while we've been together and you know what? I've said a lot of crappy things to her. For every time I've told her she was pretty, I've made some crack about her being an ex-demon. For every time I've said I loved her, I've snapped at her for not being like other girls." "Yet you keep telling her she's pretty, and you keep telling her you love her. And believe me, you're exaggerating the number of times you've said hurtful things." "I said them. I can't unsay them." "No, you can't," Giles agreed. "No more than you can undo your mistakes. But you can learn from them. Running isn't the answer." Xander laughed bitterly. "That's a good one coming from you." "This isn't about me." "I know." Xander paused, unsure what to say next. "She looked happy today." "Well, that's what brides are supposed to look like, isn't it?" "I wasn't talking about Anya." "I see." There was another awkward pause before Giles spoke again. "Is she... is she well?" "I think the word we're looking for here is 'better'. Not well. Not really. But better." "I'm glad to hear it." "But she's not... Buffy yet. She didn't even complain about the dresses Anya picked." "Were they very dreadful?" "Let's just say I have a whole new appreciation for the gorgeous bundles of femininity we got lucky enough to be surrounded by here on the Hellmouth. If these dresses couldn't make them look beyond ugly, nothing ever will. And Anya... Giles, what am I ever going to do without her?" "Is there no way you can patch things up with her?" "Even if I could, what good would it do? I'll just end up hurting her and making her life miserable. I love her too much to do that." "If you love her, and if you want to be with her, you won't hurt her. You'll find a way to make it work." "What about you and Buffy?" "This isn't about me and Buffy. It's about you and Anya." "Are you really going to try to convince me that your leaving had nothing to do with Buffy? 'Cause I won't buy it, Giles. And I'm really not so sure it helped at all." "Xander..." "No. Not listening. She was a mess before you left, but after... the mess just got bigger. I never thought you would do that to her." "I had my reasons." "Yeah. And I'm sure they were really smart ones. But you just told me something smarter. You can find a way to make it work." "Are you going to find Anya and try to make it up to her?" "Are you gonna get back here and make up with Buffy?" "Xander, go find Anya. She needs to know why you did this. She's worth fighting for." "So's Buffy." Giles sighed. "Are you going to make this a condition of your decision?" "Will it make you come home?" "Why is it that none of you seem to be able to understand that England is home for me?" "Because home for you is really where Buffy is. Get your butt back here." "Home is where the Slayer is?" "Don't you mean 'heart'?" "Xander, go find Anya." "And...?" "And... I'll think about what you've said." "Okay. It's enough. For now." "Words fail me in my relief and joy." "Yeah. I miss you, too, Big G." "Will you do something for me, Xander?" "Sure. Anything." "Will you... will you tell Buffy I said hello?" "No. Call her. Tell her yourself. She'll listen now." "Then will you give Anya a message for me?" "What is it?" "Tell her if she needs to take some time off to work this out with you, I'll be happy to come mind the shop for her. Just for a while." "Hurry home, Giles. We all miss you." As soon as he'd replaced the phone in its cradle, Giles stood and headed for the closet. He pulled down his suitcase and began to fill it methodically. Across the Atlantic Ocean, in a crummy motel in Sunnydale, Xander Harris put his still damp wedding tux on and headed for the door.