AFTER THIS

Chapter Warnings: Angst. Sorry if you hate it, but it gets gradually less over the course of the story.

Feedback: I'm a feedback whore. I want more. More more more.

Music: Stay -Small Sins, Buttons- Sia, Sugar Water- Cibo Matto, Let Go- Frou Frou, Lost Prophets- Rooftops, These Small Hours- Rob Thomas, I'm Still Here- The Goo Goo Dolls.

A/N: So I got my first chapter review, and apparently someone loves it, so, yay! Internal spontaneous combustion of love to you, said patron. Also, I'm attempting to make this a eighth season sort of thing, so chapters are going to come in episode parts. This is the last part of the first "episode". And Oz is going to come back, because he's pretty much my favorite character ever.

CHAPTER III

Xander's still awake when Dawn prods him in the ribs at 8:30 in the morning. And when he goes down to breakfast, he doesn't eat, either. The past twenty four hours have been much better, but the pain of missing Anya still gnaws at his insides and makes it impossible to do the things which seemed routine before.

Buffy eagerly shows him to his apartment, and even in his no-sleep daze, Xander can see she's chosen well. Natural light floods in from a skylight, and the walls, although bare, are clean and the bedrooms are big. There's three, so any Slayers that stay with him and Andrew will have their own spaces. He readily thanks her, and steps in with Andrew, marveling.

It's an actual, for real, apartment. Buffy passes him a wad of bills. "That's for furniture and food and clothes and stuff, until you have a job." She warns. "No DVD's. No comics. No action figures. Got it, Andrew?"

Andrew meekly nods.

Yet, somehow, at the end of the day, they end up flopped on the couch, one of the only pieces of furniture, watching the new Star Trek DVD's and giggling gleefully over Spock.

Andrew is crunching on french fries and Xander wrinkles up his nose, trying to look exasperated, but only succeeding in looking goofy.

"Tomorrow, I'll have the effort to get off my ass. And we'll have broccoli." Xander envisions, nearly drooling. "I'm so sick of grease. If I never saw a- a- something with grease again, I'd be a happy man."

"You didn't eat your burger." Andrew says pointedly. "Can I-"

"Sure." Xander says, sliding it across the coffee table. "Go nuts, Hannibal Lector."

Andrew nervously nibbles on one side of the burger. "So, what's the deal with this Oz guy?" He asks pointedly. "Is he, like, a vampire or a ghoul or a Dalek, or what?"

"None. He's an old, good, friend and he used to date Willow. Plus, he's a werewolf."

"Oh. Cool" Andrew resumes his shredding of the burger, then freezes abruptly. "Like- lesbian Willow?"

"Yes, Andrew, that is her full name." Xander stretches out his feet to gently touch Andrew's side. He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, as rarely as it happens, Andrew seems to be... deep in thought. "Andrew?" Xander nudges him with his toes.

"So... he and Willow broke up?" Andrew muses, with an unfair amount of innocence. And those eyes. Oh god, the naive eyes. "Why?"

Xander draws in a breath, deep and slightly shaky. He doesn't know why, but he's already sketching in parallels in his mind. Drawing them to match Willow's with a trembling hand.

"Because, Andrew, sometimes people change."

He has to turn away then, because the too bitter tone he's used combined with the burning in his chest just gets to be too much. It's like Anya created the hole, which is shitty enough, and the essence of Andrew is like pouring hot sauce around the edges. Andrew makes Alexander Harris hurt inside and he's not sure why.

"Sorry." Andrew mutters in a whiny tone. "Didn't mean to upset you or whatever." He promptly dumps the rest of his burger on the coffee table. "I'm going to bed. Not like you care."

"No, Andrew, wait-" Xander protests weakly. But it's too late, the door has slammed and Xander winces. He sighs. It's late, and they're supposed to be at the newly appointed Slayer Central at nine in the morning.

Xander throws himself on the bed, covers himself, doesn't even take off his clothes and attempts to sleep. But he doesn't. Things play out like the previous night, except the ceiling is different, and the ache of the guilt so heavy that he lays on his side to take some of the pressure off his chest.

There comes a timid knock at his door the instant the clock blinks 4:30 and Xander sighs. "Andrew...?" He rasps, throat sore. "Is everything okay?"

The door swings upon and reveals Andrew, clutching himself. He's not crying, but he looks so frightened and small inside his slightly too big pajamas that it hurts Xander on the inside a little bit. "Xander?" His voice cracks. "I'm really cold. And really scared. And this house makes weird squeaky noises. Can I..."

"Sleep here?" Xander finishes. He sighs. "Maybe. All right. But just for tonight, okay?" Andrew nods, padding up to Xander and crawling in bed beside him. Andrew's cold feet touch Xander's too hot ones and both parties flinch and mumble a sorry.

Andrew turns away from him, and after a couple minutes Xander can hear barely stifled sniffles. And it becomes unbearable to Xander nearly the moment after it's begun.

"Andrew..." He sighs, turning back towards the boy and propping himself up on an elbow. "Did you come in here because you had a bad dream?"

The shift in the bed indicates a nod. "Was it about The First?"

A shake.

"A-anya?" Xander pushes the words out with force.

A shake.

"Jonathan?"

A shake.

"...Warren." Xander hisses the words, and the rare silence that follows indicates he's got it right.

"Did he die again?"

"No." Andrew chokes out. "He hurt me."

"Physically? Mentally?"

"Mentally." Andrew turns to face him, tear tracks staining the pillow. His hair is royally messed up, sticking up all over the place. Xander is wrought with the sudden desire to smooth it down. But he doesn't. Instead, he reaches out to Andrew, who flinches slightly. Xander runs the pad of his thumb over Andrew's tear stained cheeks.

And he worries so hard that his no doubt creased and worried expression will betray the notion that he doesn't care about Andrew at all. Not one bit.

He keeps stroking his cheek until his hurried breathing evens and Andrew falls asleep. And Xander closes his eyes, just for a moment, just to think, and before he knows it, he is brilliantly, wonderfully asleep.

Although, it is slightly strange to wake up with an Andrew needly pressed against you, hands fisted in your pajamas. Xander sputters, shifts backwards, falls off the bed with a heady thump, and awakens Andrew.

"JESUS PICARD!" He shouts, and Xander stares incredulously before bursting into startled laughter. Andrew flashes him an embarrassed smile, and Xander looks away quickly before he can get immersed in it.

Immersion in Andrew's acts has become strangely more conflicted and weird and gooey the past few days. Whenever Xander hazards a touch to him, his flesh burns, but not in a bad way. In a nervous, excited, good way. He'll chalk it up to post war nerves for yesterday. But today- new start. Heterosexual man coming through. No staring at Andrew's ass...ets. Various assets. Right.

He nods, feeling rather important. Xander has a mission. Slayer central.

Xander and Andrew stride in, but Xander halts when he sees the look on Buffy's face. "Hey, who broke your heart?" He asks, cautiously.

"Drusilla." Willow says glumly, running a fingernail around the edge of one of Giles's glasses. "Dru broke your heart?" Xander says jokingly, trying to hide the sharp note of apprehension. "Wow, Buff, worst straight girl ever much?"

"Drusilla. Is back in town. Threatening us with a new power. Buffy and I ran into her last night on patrol." Faith says pointedly. "Xander, do shut up." Giles supplies helpfully. "Now, we've seen from several eye witnesses that she does seem to be weaker then usual, so that's a plus."

"Probably grieving over Spike." Andrew points out. "Precisely. We should manipulate that and use it against her. However, she does seem to wield a large team of vampires and another power. We're not quite sure of what it is yet."

"Well, do we have any clues?" Xander asks. Dawn rifles through her papers and Xander doesn't think he's ever seen Giles look more proud. "Very little to go on. According to Buffy, Drusilla mentioned a 'Carnival of apples, all juicy and round. Little bunnies bite them still, but the big carrot is nowhere to be found. Until the biggest bunny of all comes up from the ground.'"

"So, we're looking at a vampire fueled apocalypse. Nothing too difficult." Rona snorts dismissively. "We've done that at least twice."

"Yes, but all the same. We'd do well to be careful until we know more about the situation. Xander, could you patrol tonight with Rona and Faith?" Giles asks.

"Sure, G-man!"

"Xander, I've ASKED YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT AND- never mind. Fine."

After a little bit, Xander chances pulling Willow aside. "What is it, Xan?" She questions, tugging at her ponytail. "Something worrisome?"

"Depends on how you look at it." Xander says dryly. "Uh... Will? How did you know you were... gay and not just curious?" He rushes the last part. Xander doesn't even know why he's asking the question. Maybe he's curious. About the outcome of the conversation, of course.

She ponders. "I guess... the first time I kissed Tara, that's when I knew for sure. Because it just felt like a welcome change. I just assumed that maybe I was a straight girl who fell in love with a woman, but maybe I'm a lesbian who fell in love with a man. Y'know. Oz." Willow clarifies.

"Okay." That so doesn't help him. "And before that?"

"Uh... I guess I'd always thought about being with a woman but I just kinda... suppressed the feeling. Why?" She stares at him suspiciously. "Xander, are you having a gay crisis?"

"No! God, no, Willow! Keep it down! I'm just curious."

She flashes him a devious grin. "Sometimes it starts like that. Seriously, Xan, I won't think less of you. And it doesn't mean you're actually gay."

He runs his hands through his hair, sticking it up. Xander is far more nervous then he needs to be, and he realizes that. "Um... I guess, I kind of maybe like a guy. But it's a fluke!" He adds hastily. "It's just a post Anya clingy thing!"

"Sure, sure. But if you're ready to talk about him, just let me know." Willow walks away from him and he's left alone again.

There's got to be some sort of demon causing this, because it's not Xander's crotch that springs up at the post showered Andrew, and it's not Xander's eyes that light up when he does that weird pouty thing with his kissable lips and it's not his smile that plays across his face whenever Andrew speaks.

Because, y'know. He's annoying. Xander's straight. He's oil. Xander's water. They just, purely, simply, don't fit.

A/N: *devious giggle* End episode one. This'll probably have 22 "episodes" in keeping with Buffy tradition.