He sat, wiping the blood slowly from her forehead. The look of love and
respect in his eyes gleamed unmistakably, like a bright ray of sunshine
filtering through the air. As she lifted her tearstained face to his,
the bond between Slayer and Watcher, no matter what the higher powers
said, was unmissable.

And the look of pain, the harsh drop to reality in Xanderís eyes through
the glass panes on the door was even more obvious.

So he ran.

*Fired.*

He had been heading to the library, all ready to do some research on the
problem of the night. All ready to steal a random glance at Giles when
no one was looking. But instead he overheard the quarrel. It had been
loud enough to filter in the silent night tinged halls.

So he did what he felt was right. And eavesdropped like his gossipy
mother.

*I canít believe heís fired.*

Only this and nothing more. The words of the head honcho rung through
his mind, Xanderís heart dropping at the sorrow on the faces of his
friends. He had grown to love Buffy, not in a hormonal way that was his
once true calling, but instead in a friend way.

If not tinged by a bit of jealousy.

*Her faceÖ His face.*

Never again? The boy couldnít fathom Giles being sent away from
Sunnydale. Over the summer they had formed a bond, a final bridge to the
gap that had always been ever present. They had become friends. In the
absence of his friend albeit love crush, Xander had been lost,
vulnerable. In the absence of his Slayer, Giles needed someone close.

Perhaps that is why he strayed to Willow.

In knowing Giles, the depth of his mind, the humor lurking beneath all
that tweed, Xander had realized what beauty could be in a person. And
Willow was close to that.

Close, but no cigar.

*Oh no!*

As the Watcher head left the room, Xander had ducked into hiding. While
he waited for safe passage, his mind dwelled on what had changed. When
he had known.

It was as if he had been hit by lightning.

Giles was more *there* then everyone else. When he walked into a room,
his easy coming wisecracks would hesitate and burble. Sweaty palms.

*But thenÖ oh Ö*

The look in their eyes. The love.

He couldnít deal.

It wasnít fair. She had Angel. Not like he cared about Angel. *Now
Angelus, howeverÖ* Why did she and GilesÖ what was it they saw in each
other that he didnít have.

So he ran.

Through the halls, over shiny linoleum. Into the dark of the night. The
soothing dark.

*Ö*

He had never felt so helpless.

~fin~... or is it?