Chapter Eight
Xander stood beside Cordelia, shifting nervously and trying desperately not to reach up and yank on his tie. She had taken him shopping that morning, since he didn’t have a suit, to make sure he was presentable. She told him that she didn’t care what he wore, but she wanted him to make a good impression on her parents.
So, he had put up with her fussing, and had paid the outrageous price for the suit, and left the store so she could drop him off at home to get ready. He had studiously ignored his father, who was sitting in the recliner in front of the t.v., beer can clutched in his big, meaty fist. He glared at his son, taking in the way he was dressed, and mumbled something about ‘putting on airs for those rich prigs.’ Xander just left, not bothering to get drawn into the argument his father obviously wanted.
So now, here he stood in the entry way to the country club, light softly playing over them from the crystal chandeliers above. White linen wallpaper with thin gold stripes running the length trimmed the walls. Plush, velvet, maroon settees lined the walls around them, for the people without reservations. Hardwood floors that gleamed ran the expanse of the room, and large, thriving plants flanked the door to the dining room. The maitre ‘d stood behind a tall, dark wood podium, reservation book open, disapproving glower on.
“How do I look?” Cordelia asked, after they had checked her wrap. He paused, and backed up a step to look at her, never releasing her hand. His dark eyes appraised her from head to toe, finding her nothing less than stunning. Her simple red silk dress hugged her curves, the sleeves ending just below her elbows and the sweetheart neckline showing off her slim throat. The dress cinched in at the waist, then flared a bit to fall gracefully to her knees. Red, high heeled sandals that clasped around the ankle lent length to her already mile long legs. A heart pendant that Xander had given her after he’d gotten his first paycheck adorned her throat. It was the only jewelry she wore. Her thick, dark hair was pulled up into a sleek twist.
“Stunning,” he said, smiling. She smiled hugely, taking in his grey, double breasted suit, crisp white shirt and matching grey tie, and shiny black shoes with appreciation.
“So do you,” she told him, giggling when he actually blushed. Heaving a deep breath, she looked at the dining room, steeling herself. “Ready?”
“Not even remotely so,” he answered, grinning.
“Good. Neither am I. At least we won’t be panicking alone.” She didn’t care what her parents thought of him. She would keep dating him anyway. She just didn’t want them to embarrass him.
“Shall we?” Xander asked, waving his hand gallantly, and tilting his head slightly. “After you.”
“Why thank you, sir.” Cordy accepted with a smile. When they reached the entrance to the dining room, their fingers linked, silently putting up the ‘we’re in this together’ vibes. They wove their way through the sea of linen covered tables, to the middle of the room. Once they reached the table, it was all Xander could do not to keep tugging Cordelia until they had made it safely out of the french doors that mocked him on the other side.
“Daddy, I would like you to meet Xander Harris. Xander, this is my father Jefferson Chase, and my mother Katherine,” Cordy said, presenting her parents. Jefferson Chase stood, managing to stare down at Xander, even though they were the same height. He was a fit man, who took pride in the way he looked. The suit he was wearing was impeccably tailored to him, the dark charcoal color of the material perfect with his olive complexion. His features hinted a European descent, his chin square, his cheekbones high, and his brow sweeping. Dark brown, slightly disapproving eyes were set under thick, dark brows. His carefully cut hair was also thick and still dark, with only the slightest hints of grey flecking through the sides.
“Xander,” he said, holding out a hand.
“Mr. Chase. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Mrs. Chase,” Xander managed, shaking the man’s hand, and nodding to the woman dressed in blue next to Cordy’s father. His panicked mind scrambled to remember the crash course in ‘rich’ manners that Spike had given him before he left, since they seemed to be just the same as everyday English manners. Or at least that’s what Spike had told him.
Carefully, he pulled out Cordelia’s chair, and helped her sit, then sat himself in the chair between her and her mother, and across from her father.
“We’ve been hearing so much about you, Xander. It’s a treat to finally meet the man that has captured my daughter’s attention so fully,” Katherine said, turning her grey eyes to him. Save for the eye color, she was the vision of what Cordy would look like in twenty years. Xander gave her a small smile.
“Thank you, ma’am. She’s pretty much captured me too.” Cordy blushed prettily, and Jefferson scowled. Picking up his wine, he took a sip before speaking himself.
“So, tell us about yourself,” he said, his voice rich and commanding. He motioned for the waiter while he waited for Xander to answer.
“Well, sir, I guess I’m just your average teenager. I go to school and I have a job,” Xander said, not knowing what to say.
“Commendable for a boy your age to already be working. Not enough out there like that. They all want their parents to support them.” He slid a pointed look at Cordy, who ignored him beautifully, and looked up at the waiter.
“Could we just have two Cokes, please?” she said, smiling at the waiter, then looking back at her father, arching a brow.
“Thank you sir.” Xander had no clue how to answer that, so he just said the first thing that came to mind.
“What does your father do?” *Not beating around the bush, are you old man?* Xander thought to himself.
“Well, he actually works in one of your factories,” he told him. *But you knew that, didn’t you?* he said to himself. The two men stared at each other, understanding flowing between them.
“Which one?”
“The electronic factory on Hesner.” Xander tensed, waiting for the next question.
“Really? What does he do there?” Cordelia’s eyes had narrowed into slits during the questioning, knowing EXACTLY what her father was doing.
“Daddy,” she said, her voice carrying a warning tone. He merely glanced at her, before returning his eyes to Xander.
“He’s the janitor, sir,” the brunette answered, staring him in the eyes. Jefferson had to give the boy credit, he didn’t back down. Too bad the boy was the progeny of a drunk. And if the rumors were true, an ABUSIVE drunk. Definitely not the sort he wanted around his Cordelia, since the apple tended to never fall far from the tree.
“Well, that’s interesting. What about you? What’s your plan after high school?” he smoothly asked, taking another sip of wine. Xander thought about his options for answering, and decided that honesty was best. This guy hated him anyway, he didn’t think he could make it worse.
“Me and a friend are going into the racing business,” Xander told him, taking a quick glance at Cordelia. She only flashed him a smile, and went back to glaring at her father. They had already talked about it after all. Katherine sniffed delicately, eyes widening in horror. Jefferson just stared at the boy, wondering if he had taken too many head shots from his father.
“Racing? What sort of racing?”
“Stock cars, sir. I’m good with mechanics. Figured we could build a pretty good car.” His back straightened as he talked, and he sat proudly before the Chases, his eyes telling them he didn’t care what they thought of him. When Cordy’s hand snaked across the table to rest on his, he linked his fingers through hers, an action not missed by either parent. Their daughter’s support of this dreamer was not a little unsettling. Xander continued to stare at the man, daring him to let go. Jefferson decided to oblige him.
“I will be honest with you, Xander. I don’t think you’re good enough for my daughter. She was raised with all the finer things in life. She is not made to be with a man that wants to play with cars for a living.”
“Daddy!” Cordelia hissed, fire shooting from her eyes. “That’s enough.”
“No, it’s alright, Cordy. May as well have it all out. Don’t want there to be any misunderstandings,” Xander said, tightening his fingers around hers. She squeezed back, and turned to her mother.
“Mom. Do you think you could say something?” she asked her mother. Katherine merely looked at the two men, then back at her daughter.
“I’m sorry, dear. I think your father is right.”
“Fine. Have a nice dinner,” Cordelia said, pushing away from the table. “Xander. I’ve lot my appetite,” she said, before tugging him out of the chair and storming out of the room, both brunettes oblivious to the eyes that followed them.
~*~*~
“I am so sorry,” Cordelia said, looking down at the steering wheel. They were sitting outside of his house, neither saying anything on the drive back from the country club.
“It’s not your fault. It’s typical,” was all he said, turning to smile at her. “You don’t think it, and that’s all that matters.” She smiled back at him, going willingly when he tugged her into his arms. With a sigh, their mouths came together. When she pulled away, she rested her head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart soothing.
“Don’t ever think you’re not good enough for me, Xan.” *It’s true,* he said to himself, then gently brushed his lips across her hair.
“Okay,” was what he said. He ran a finger down her cheek when she looked up at him.
“You better get home. I’m sure they’re worked up pretty good by now,” he told her, leaning in to kiss her again. She reached a hand up and held him in place when he tried to pull away, engaging his tongue and lips in a sensual dance. She smiled up at him when they broke apart.
“I love you,” Cordy whispered. Xander felt the awe and disbelief that he felt the first time she had said it in the hallway flare.
“I love you, too. Now, go. Don’t feel like having the cops after me,” he said with a chuckle. “Goodnight, sweety.”
“Goodnight.” Xander climbed out of the car, leaning into the open window to steal another kiss.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, waving as she pulled away. He watched as the little red convertible drove down the street, and turned at the stop sign. Once she was out of sight, he turned and walked to the house, Mr. Chase’s words playing back through his mind. He couldn’t really find anything but truth in them, and that made him scowl. He didn’t have anything to offer Cordy. She had everything, what the hell was she doing with him?
Sighing heavily, he went inside, knowing the instant he saw his father he was in trouble. Carefully, he shut the door, mentally calculating the odds of his getting up to his room healthy. When Tony Harris turned to look at him, he realized that his chances were definitely not good.
“Where the hell you been?” he spat, pushing himself out of the recliner.
“Date,” was all Xander offered, attempting to walk around the stone wall that was his father. He felt himself jerked back when Tony grabbed his arm.
“Don’t walk away from me, boy,” he said, his voice low. Xander felt fear slam into his chest as he looked into the cold, dark eyes.
“Just going to bed, Dad.” He never saw the punch coming. With a force that would have sent him to the floor had his father not had hold of him, Tony Harris let loose on his son.
“Think you’re better than me, now? Got yourself a rich bitch girlfriend, and suddenly you forget where you come from?” With each word, a fist connected with Xander’s body, the ferocity of the attack stunning the boy. He gathered himself up enough to block the next hit, this one aimed at the side of his head, and raised his arm to retaliate. He knew from experience that his mother wouldn’t come downstairs to help him, so he swung, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Tony caught the fist that was coming at him with ease, letting Xander in on the fact that he wasn’t as drunk as Xander first thought. “You’ll never be nothing but a janitor’s son, boy. You might get that girl for a little while, so she can scratch an itch. But, you mark my words, she’ll be tying up her skirts soon enough and running back to mommy and daddy.” That was the last thing Xander heard before a blinding white pain sliced through him. Then, it was black.
~*~*~
Giles sat in his chair, cup of tea on the table, and book in his lap. He had just gotten home from the gallery, and had listened to Spike’s message saying that he was over at Buffy’s watching movies with the girls, so he decided to relax while he had the house to himself. When a knock sounded on the door, he frowned a bit, and rose to answer it. Thinking it was Spike who had forgotten his key, he was not prepared for the sight that met him. Xander stood on the stoop, blood and bruises covering his face, his obviously new suit in tatters. His breathing was ragged as he stared up at his friend’s father, desperation swimming in his eyes.
“Xander?” he gasped, frozen to his spot. His first thought had been accident. But, the more he looked at him, the more he could tell that it was fists that caused this damage. Xander’s eyes darted around, shame joining the misery on his face.
“I. . .I’m sorry to bother you. I . . .I just didn’t have anywhere to go.” The last word came out as a sob, and Giles watched as the boy crumpled in front of him. Without thought, Giles reached through the door and gathered him against his chest, tears springing to his own eyes as Xander wept.
~*~*~
“You are such a dork,” Buffy said, giggling as she watched Spike try to catch popcorn in his mouth. So far, he was 0 for 10 and he was getting the stuff every where.
“That may be. But you like it,” he purred, sliding his eyes over her. She rolled her eyes and laughed, kicking him. Dawn had retreated up to her bedroom as soon as Angel left, her heartbreak too fresh to have to deal with watching her sister and crush flirt. Which they had been doing shamelessly since they moved into the living room to watch tv. Joyce had just came in, and was in the kitchen making something to drink. She was just coming back into the living room when the phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Dawn screamed from the top of the stairs, the sound of her footsteps heavy on the floor.
“What are we watching?” Joyce asked, sitting in the chair next to the couch where the two blondes were currently sitting. As soon as she walked in, they had told her about the fight, so that the neighbors wouldn’t beat Buffy to it, and make it sound worse than it really was. She wasn’t too happy it happened, but at least Buffy had finally broken up with Angel, and Spike didn’t look worse for wear, so she figured that freaking out wasn’t going to do any good.
“Airplane,” Buffy answered as Dawn came bounding down the stairs, the cordless from her mother’s room in her hand.
“Spike, it’s your dad,” she said, handing it to him. Spike wiped his hand on his jeans to remove the grease from the popcorn, a move that made Joyce cringe, before taking it.
“Dad? What’s up?” The smile that had still been curling his lip started to fade, and angry glower taking it’s place. His jaw clenched tight as he listened to what his father was saying, and the hand on his leg fisted. Buffy and Joyce exchanged a look of concern, before turning back to the blonde. “I’ll be right there,” he said, hanging up. He closed his eyes, and pressed the phone against his forehead, his body shaking with tension. “Mrs. Summers, would you take me home?” he asked after a minute.
“Of course, Spike. What’s the matter?” He didn’t answer, just stood and put the phone on the table, then reached for his duster.
“Spike,” Buffy said, standing and blocking his path out of the room. “What is it?” Her eyes met his, and she was staggered by the emotion swirling through them.
“Xander,” was all he said as he moved around her and stalked outside. The three Summers women looked at each other, then they all followed him out.
~*~*~
Rupert Giles was not a violent man. In fact, if anybody had told his son that in his day, he had been known to have a bar fight or two, Spike would have laughed in their faces. But the look in his father’s eyes when he left the apartment, after telling Spike he was to stay put, had made the young man shiver.
Giles reached up and knocked soundly on the door to the Harris residence, taking his glasses off to clean them as he waited. A few seconds later, he heard some cursing and stumbling, then somebody fumbling with the lock before it swung open to reveal Tony Harris.
Tony stared down at the man in his doorway, taking in the calm demeanor, the tweed jacket, and the glasses.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, words slightly slurred. Giles replaced his glasses before answering.
“Mr. Harris, I am Rupert Giles, Spike’s father.” He never used his son’s nickname, unless he was speaking to someone that would only know him by that name. He watched confusion, then recognition cross the other man’s face.
“That freak with the white hair, right?” Rupert’s eyes flashed dangerously at the insult to his son.
“Yes, that would be him.”
“Whatta you want? He ain’t here if you’re looking for him.” Tony started to close the door, only to scowl when Giles blocked it.
“I assure you, I know where my son is. The question is, do you know where yours is?” Anger flared across Harris’s face.
“Damn little pup better be in his bedroom,” he growled, turning to head up the stairs. If that boy wasn’t there, he would give him another seeing to when he got hold of him. He didn’t get far. With a speed and strength that Tony didn’t think the smaller man had, Giles had Tony pulled out of the house and slammed against the wall, forearm banded across his throat “What the hell. . .” His words ended up garbled as Rupert increased the pressure.
“Let’s you and I come to an understanding, shall we?” Giles started, conversationally. “If you so much as bat an eyelash at that boy again, I will kill you.” Each word was punctuated with the crushing of his arm across the other man’s windpipe. “He will be staying with me, from here on out. You are not to have contact with him unless he wants it. Do you understand?”
“You can’t do this, that’s my son. . .” Another strangled cry filled the air as Giles pressed just a little bit harder.
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” After staring each other down, Tony looked away first, nodding his head in the process. With a unsteady ‘thud’, he barely managed not to fall over when Rupert dropped him
“Good. We, as in Spike and I, will be here tomorrow to pick up his stuff. Might I suggest you find another place to be.”
And, with one last parting glare, the nerdy little man in tweed walked away, not sparing the man behind him another glance.