Originally archived at Geocities. I have been unable to contact the author.
I DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE THIS STORY - If you are an author and you do not want your stories archived here then please e-mail me and I will remove them as soon as I can.

COUPLE: Xander/Spike, mentions Willow/Tara, Xander/Anya, and Xander/Other
SUMMARY: Xander's mom thinks he's gay. . .what does he do now?

Mom! I'm Not Gay!


Part One

I was not gay.

Before any of this. . .disaster that was my life came about, that was my motto. I was not gay. I wasn't. Really. I stood in the locker room with all the other guys in the gym class. I never looked over to see what the other guys had to offer. I would just shower and think of Buffy, or Cordelia, or whoever I was in love with at the time, rinse off, and move on. I was not gay.

Even when Larry told me he thought I was gay, and that he would help with anything he could on my quest to come out, it gave me the wiggins. Because I was not gay.

However, Anya decided I was.

It wasn't her fault. Not really. Four days before the fight, she and I were in bed at my new apartment, doing what Anya and I did best - yes, that would be sex, thank you very much - and she did this. . .thing. I can't really explain what it was she did exactly. Some. . .grinding thing, tightening of muscles, something along those lines. It felt really good. At the very beginning.

And then it started to hurt.


Bad enough for me to go to the doctor the next day.

Of course, I couldn't tell her it hurt, because she was completely enraptured, having the time of her life. I always did like the way Anya made me feel like I was the best lover in the world. Granted, I don't think she had sex in the thousand some odd years that she was a demon. I'd think anyone was good after that long.

So Dr. Livingston told me there was mild tissue bruising and asked how it happened. He gave me a strange look when I told him it was just normal sex with my girlfriend. Apparently, as I overheard the nurses chuckling when I left, they all thought I fucked a vacuum cleaner hose. Incidentally, I wouldn't be seeing Dr. Livingston again any time soon.

However, his diagnosis was for me to not have sex for four to six days. Give my pal time to heal. How the hell was I going to explain that to Anya?

The first night was fine. I pleased her orally, and she was happy and content. The next night, when I started to go down on her, she whined a little and said she wanted to have sex, and I told her that I just wanted to make her happy because she always did so much to make me happy. . .she relented, and fell asleep shortly after I made her cum.

The third night she pouted, crying that I didn't love her.

I assured her that wasn't the case, just that I was in a very giving mood. Too bad she wasn't in a receiving one. Nothing happened that night.

The fight happened on the fourth day. My mother called the apartment and said there were a few things she found that she thought that I would want. She'd put them in the basement and I could come and get them at any time.

I shouldn't have taken Anya with me. She wasn't talking to me, arms crossed, sulking the entire way there. However. . .if she hadn't of went, I wouldn't be as happy as I am now. . .

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So we go to the basement of hell, and I was gathering the few things my mom was nice enough to box up for me. Anya was sulking in the corner, watching me through tear filled eyes. Finally, with a loud sigh, she stood up. "I think we should break up."

I looked over at her, mildly shocked. "What?" I asked.

"Break up. You know, where one of the parties in a couple realizes that it isn't working out for them and they proceed to stop seeing each other?"

"Yeah, An, I know what breaking up means. Why?" I asked.

"BECAUSE YOU ARE GAY!" she screamed hysterically.

I blinked in shock, opening and closing my mouth. I frowned slightly, wondering what was going through my soon-to-be former girlfriend's mind. "What? Anya, I'm not gay." I wasn't. I wasn't gay.

"You are!" she sobbed, much louder than I was comfortable with. She knew to be quiet when we were in my parent's house, especially when there was no other source of sound. Who knew what could be heard - which drunk parent could hear the arguing, the fucking, any of it.

"Anya!" I exclaimed. "What the hell makes you think that?"

"We haven't had sex in three days, Xander! You only go down on me! You are gay! I knew it! I knew it from the second that I laid eyes on you!" She wiped her tears away. My heart would have broken at how upset she was, but I was in too much shock to think about it. "I don't know why I even got involved with you! You. . .you. . .you gay man!" She stormed out of the basement, and I turned, just watching her walk out of my life. I didn't know what else to say, what else to do.

I heard the door from the house open and a pair of feet shuffle down the stairs. "Alexander?"

Great. My mom. Just whom I wanted to see.

I cringed, and turned. "H. . .hi, mom." She was wearing her normal 'around the house-get drunk' attire: a tropical muumuu, her bangs pushed out of her face with a headband. My mother never was the most fashionable. I supposed that I got that from her. She had a pained look on her face and reeked of vodka. I shuffled slightly, bouncing from foot to foot.

"Alexander," she said, stepping into the basement. "I know your father and I haven't been the best parents. . ."

And my mom gets the award for the understatement of the year, ladies and gentlemen.

". . .but I want you to know that I support you."

"Thanks, mom," I said, turning back to my boxes. Suddenly, I remembered Anya's last words. "Uh. . .you support me in what, mom?"

"I support you even though you are gay."

What? WHAT? "What?" I asked weakly, turning around. "Mom. . .I'm not. . ."

"I heard your little girlfriend say you were, Alexander. I just want you to know that I support you." She shrugged a little, looking down. "Your dad might beat your ass, so I think it would be better if we keep it between us. . .but I'm here for you. I saw Sally Jesse Raphael today. She is a very informative person, in case you didn't know. She said you should love your children, gay or straight, because they are still your children."

I stared at my mother in shock for a good five minutes before I spoke, watching as she fluttered around, going from flustered to irate. I was amazed. I hadn't felt love from my mother in more years than I could remember, but now, because of some little blonde bitch with red glasses and one hour to blab to the bored housewives of America, my mom was going to tell me she loved me? Finally, I said, "Mom, I'm not gay."

"Sally Jesse Raphael said denial was the first sign," she said, nodding her head.

I just covered my face and prayed for the Hellmouth to open in my basement. Surely hell couldn't be that bad.

Part Two

I went to Willy's. I wanted to go out and slay my heart out, but that was Buffy's deal. I would have probably gotten eaten, and I would have died, my mother thinking I was gay. I couldn't understand why it bothered me so much, I never cared what my mother thought of me. She was a bitter old woman.

I didn't really drink anything at the bar, just sat there, watching the ice dance around in my drink. I wasn't gay. I knew I wasn't gay. If I were gay, another man would attract me, right? I'd never been attracted to another man.

Ok, there was Angel, but that was a different story. He was a big guy; tall, dark and handsome. That was like a woman noticing another woman was beautiful. Cordelia used to tell me other women were beautiful all the time. So there are no worries there. I'm not gay because I thought Angel was attractive.

Whew! I was worried there for a minute.

"Hey, mate," a sullen voice said, sitting beside me.

I glanced over, knowing whom it was by A) the blonde hair, B) the smell of leather and cigarettes, and C) the voice, of course. "I'm not gay." Great, Harris. Just tell Spike all your troubles. I was sure he'd get a great laugh out of them before running off to tell my friends I was gay. I groaned, thumping my forehead on the bar.

"That's nice, Harris. I hate Harm. Tell me again why I went back to her?"

I looked up at him. No laughing. That was definitely unexpected. "Uh. . .sex?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes unfocusing for a minute as he thought about it. "Right. Shagging. Always a good reason to take a stupid cow back. Speaking of shagging, how's the ex-demon? Only one of the lot of ya that I can stand, what with her background in causing mayhem on the male population at large."

"We broke up," I said. "She thinks I'm gay."

Yep, tell him the whole story, why don't you?

An eyebrow rose on his forehead. He was cute when he did the surprised look.

Wait a minute - WHAT?

Where the hell did that come from?

Spike is not cute! Not with those piercing blue eyes and that pale skin. . .those full lips. . .

Oh my god.

I thumped my head on the bar again. "She thinks I'm gay, cause I didn't have sex with her for three days. Three days, and she thinks I'm gay. I don't have the stamina of. . .of. . ."

"A vampire," he smirked, shifting on his barstool so he was close enough to rub against my side. "We could go forever if we wanted to."

Spike was touching me. Great. Spike was touching me and I was getting aroused! Damn Anya and her thinking I was gay!

I jumped off the stool. "Happy for ya, Spike. I gotta go." As I ran out of Willy's, I could hear him chuckling. Bastard was making fun of me.


I went to the one place I knew I could go - to the one person that would understand me. The one person that always did.



I loved the way Willow always lit up when I saw her. We weren't that close last year, after our whole senior year fiasco, but we had the best summer - lots of great Willow and Xander time without our girlfriends.

"I was just thinking about you!" she exclaimed, ushering me into the room she now shared with Tara.

"Really?" I asked, glancing around, wondering where her little witchy girlfriend was. I closed my eyes for a second, imagining Willow and Tara on the very bed in front of me, completely naked, doing completely naked things.

Oh, yeah.

I'm not gay at all.

The thought still aroused me.

I laughed, turning to her. "Thinking of the things me and you and Tara could do?" I waggled an eyebrow suggestively.

She blushed a furious red, like she did every time I teased her about the three of us getting some action going. She hit me playfully and I laughed. She led me to the bed - the bed her and Tara did naked things on - and we sat down. "Shut up, Xander. Your mom called me."

"What?" I asked with a strangled breath. "Whatever she said, Wills, I swear it's not true."

She frowned slightly. "It was a bit garbled - she was drunk, imagine that - but she mentioned something about Sally Jesse Raphael, you, a closet, and finding that - and I'm quoting here - 'deliciously handsome foreign blonde William something or the other that was hanging out with my Alexander for a while'. She wanted to know where to find Spike and I have to ask myself why?"

I groaned, lying back on the bed. "Wills. . .mom thinks I'm gay. It all started with this strange move Anya did the other night in bed."

By the time I was finished with my horror story, Willow was staring at me with wide green eyes. I could see the mirth dancing in them; I could tell she was trying not to laugh at me. Hell, I would have laughed, had it not been me dealing with it. "Wills. . ."I said dangerously.

She giggled slightly, then her face fell into that easy grin - the one that only I see. Tara might see it occasionally, but it was a Xander-specific smile. It was one of childhood friendships, secrets we would never tell another soul, the comfortableness one has with the person you've known your whole life. "Xander, have you ever thought that maybe. . .you are?"

I sat up quickly, hurt and betrayed that Willow would dare suggest that perhaps I was. "W. . .Wills. . .how could you? How could you think. . ." I turned to her, tears filling my eyes. "Willow, I'm not gay. You should know this! I've been attracted to every single female that ever went to Sunnydale High School!"

Willow rolled her eyes. "I remember. I was there." She pushed on my chest, making me lay back down on the bed. She lay on her side beside me, propping her head up with her hand. "Ok," she said, looking down at me. I looked up at her. "Have you ever thought that maybe. . .just maybe, you are. . .bisexual? It's obvious you like women. Unless you are overcompensating, but that's a different story."

"Over. . .huh?" I asked, frowning. Overcompensating? What the hell would I be overcompensating for?

"Have you ever wondered why you want just about every girl that walks by? You are so upset by the thought that you may be gay that you are going overboard on the other end of the scale, to prove to the world - and yourself - that you like women."

Where does Willow get all her knowledge? If I believed that I was gay, I would have thought that was a pretty good reason as to why I fell in love with every girl I met.

But of course, since I wasn't gay, that was just some psycho-babble she learned in Dr. Walsh's class last semester.

"No, that's just a bunch of psychologist's mumbo jumbo," I nodded.

"Ok. No overcompensation. Do you think you are bi?"

I laughed, brushing her off. "Bi people don't really exist, Wills. You either like men, or you like women. Ain't no switchin' teams here," I said, looking up at her.

She raised an eyebrow. "I loved Oz as much as I love Tara."


"Ok, so you might be bisexual, but that doesn't mean I am." I turned away from her, on my side. I wasn't gay. I wasn't bisexual. I was just a normal straight guy, stuck in an insane situation, all because of Anya and her funky moves.

I was sure the situation would blow over and I would find another woman and things would be fine. Things were always fine.

"Xander, you and I are a lot more alike than you might think," she murmured.

"Nope. Not happening."

She sighed behind me. "Fine." We laid there quietly, just listening to each other breathing, ignoring the silence, when she spoke again. "Spike is hot, don't you think?"

"Of course not. I'm not gay." We were both quiet, and I knew that she knew that I had noticed him, once I realized just how gay I wasn't, and she knew that I was lying. "Promise you won't tell anyone?" I murmured.

"I'm your best friend, Xander. Nothing you say will leave this room. Not even Tara will find out."

I rolled back over so I was on my back, staring at her ceiling. She was on her back beside me. She took my hand, squeezing it gently, letting me know that she was there for me, that she would always be there for me.

If there was one thing in the world that I'd finally gotten through my thick skull to appreciate, it was Willow Rosenberg.

"He has these. . .eyes," I said softly, closing my own. I pictured his face in my mind, ignoring the smile that graced my lips. "They are piercing, like they could cut you down with one look. And yet, they can be filled with. . .well, not that I've actually seen him looking like he was in love, but I know they can be."

"He has those cheekbones," she murmured.

"Don't even get me started on the angular planes of his face," I said, shaking my head.

I felt her watching me. I turned my head and opened my eyes. She had a funny look on her face. "What?" I asked with a frown.

" 'Angular planes of his face'? Xand, that's not a very. . .jock macho man thing to say. . "

"I'm not gay," I growled.

"Right, right, not gay," she nodded, as if she knew a secret that I didn't. She smiled again, the same smile filled with comfort.

I blinked in shock, sitting up slowly. I turned my body so I could look down at her. "You. . .you think I'm gay," I whispered.

My heart broke. My best friend thought I was gay. How could she think I was gay?

"I always have, Xander. At least, if not gay, but bisexual. It explains why you always fall for girls you have no chance with, or you subconsciously know that the relationship won't work out. Buffy, Cordelia. . .even Anya. And you knew that if we would have gotten together, we would have stayed together. We know each other too well - we would probably make a great couple. And that scared you. Because you want men," she said knowingly.

"No," I murmured, shaking my head. "Don't. . .can't. . ." I crossed my arms and looked away from her.

She sat up behind me and put her chin on my shoulder. She wrapped her arms around my waist. "Maybe you should find a guy, go out on a date with him. Spike, maybe?" I felt her shrug. "Your mom seems to think you two would be a great couple." She snickered slightly.

"Hell no! He wouldn't go out with me! He's a demon! Evil, and soulless, and besides, he's dating Harmony! Why would he want me instead of Harm?" I asked turning around to look at her.

An eyebrow rose on her face. She had that look, that 'I told you so' look on her face. I thought back over my response, my eyes widening. "Oh, and because I'm not gay!"

"Say it long enough and you might start believing it," Willow said softly.

Part Three

A couple of days passed, and things got worse, continuing to spiral out of control - but I should be used to that now. It's the life of the Zeppo. My mom kept calling my apartment, leaving messages on the answering machine, spouting about how she was buying books about the 'situation'. . .it seems that her favorite was "The Dummies' Guide to Parenting a Gay Child". It was very informative, she told me, giving her 800 numbers to call for support.

There's a network out there of mothers who call each other when they come across the difficult times dealing with their homosexual children. So these women, they call each other and cry to each other about how their son brought home some scruffy looking guy with no table manners, or their daughter brought home some butch chick that might as well be a guy. My mother, apparently, she has friends on these lines now. My mother has friends all over the country, friends that she calls when she's drunk and whiny, crying that her "baby boy can't find a decent man."

She's even asked me on the machine if I ever caught up to that "blonde with the nice accent." I could still hear her voice in my head. It haunted me when I closed my eyes. "Alexander! Please tell me that you've caught up with that nice English man. I know he's gay, I mean, he dyes his hair! And blonde no less! Please call me when you get this, let me know if you are protecting yourself. The Dummies' Guide says to always make sure your children have condoms because gay sex is very dangerous, and I wouldn't want you to be ill, Alexander. AIDS is very dangerous in the gay community. Does Sunnydale have a gay community? What do you young men do at the meetings? Do you think William will be there? Perhaps you should find out when the next meeting is. I'll find out for you if you want me to. . .I'm sure you're still in denial. . ."

The machine cut her off.

She called back.

"I'll be glad to find out for you if you want me too. . .I'm sure they are listed in the phone book. Hmm. . .I guess you'd look under 'gay' in the yellow pages? Or do you think it would be under 'homosexual'?"

Hearing my mother say the word 'homosexual' gave me a major case of the wiggins.

"Is that what you prefer me to call you? Or do you prefer 'gay'? The book is very clear about not using derogatory terms when describing your children. . .it's really a great book. They have a chapter or two that is written for the actual child. . .please call me, Alexander, and let's set up a time to have coffee. . .or cappuccino if that's what you. . .what they. . .what gay people drink. I may be wrong, I just remember seeing a movie on the television late one night with a bunch of gay men drinking cappuccino. . .anyway, let's get together, talk, bond, you know. . .spend time together? Please? I love you, Alexander, don't ever forget it."

After Willow listened to the messages in mute horror, I deleted them.

We were an odd bunch, Willow, Tara, and I. The girls were trying to be as supportive as they could with the situation. I couldn't talk to Buffy about it, Willow said she got the feeling that our dear Slayer wanted to bolt from the room when she first told her about Tara. I couldn't talk to Giles, oh god, I couldn't go to him. I could just imagine his reaction.

He'd take his glasses off, flounder around a bit, put his glasses back on, then take them off, realizing he was so in shock he didn't clean them. He'd stutter, then put his glasses back on, and finally just say that he needed a glass of brandy and proceed to drink himself to oblivion.

I loved G-Man - NOT THAT WAY! I was not gay! - but I just didn't want to be the one to give him the heart attack that would send him to his grave.

So anyway, Willow decided she wanted to cheer me up. She proclaimed it "Xander's out with two beautiful women because he is so not gay" night. I knew she thought I was, but I really appreciated her for trying. It made me feel good, that she would go against what she thought just to make me happy.

So with Willow on one arm and Tara on the other, we went to the Bronze. We danced. . .well, the girls danced, I did whatever it was that Willow claimed I thought dancing was - Tara couldn't stop laughing. I'd glare at her, and she'd laugh more.

I was really beginning to like Tara. She made Willow happy.

I didn't realize it at the time, but later, I started to figure it all out. Willow wasn't with Tara because she was 'gay', she was with Tara because the blonde made her happy. Willow lit up when Tara smiled shyly at her - it really was cute the way they were around each other. Even though I knew they'd been together - yep, still wasn't gay, the thought got me rather interested in being there watching and/or participating - they still acted like shy little girls coming in contact with their crush.

So we were at the Bronze, having danced (or flailed around like a fish out of water, as Tara finally decided my unique dance style was) our hearts out. We were in the darkened corner, on a couch. They were sitting next to each other, Tara snuggled up to Willow. I was lying on the couch, my head in Willow's lap. She was playing with my hair, like she used to when we were kids. It always calmed me. It was nice - I felt like they were accepting me into their tight bond, because I knew that Buffy would never be in that same situation with the two of them.

I was almost asleep when I heard a slightly irritated, very familiar voice. "Harris, we need to talk. Now."

I opened my eyes and looked up, and up, finally seeing Spike's blazing blue eyes. Great. The vamp was angry about something. I glanced at Willow, her eyebrow going up. I stood up and stretched, following him to an even darker corner of the Bronze. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, still in that almost asleep mode he'd tried to pull me out of.

"What is it, Spike?" I asked, sighing softly. I wanted to be back in the lap of Willow, basking in her and Tara's warmth.

Besides, I knew my mother wanted me to date the demon, and it wigged me out a bit to be around him.

"So I'm at the bloody grocery store," he growled, lighting a cigarette and inhaling a lot of nicotine. "I hear an inhuman shriek and practically drop the fangs and yellow the bloody eyes."

"Wait. . ." I frowned, throwing my hand up. "You were at the grocery store?"

He growled at the interruption. "I needed fags and Wheat-A-Bix, moron! Now let me finish my bloody story before I rip your spine out!"

I rolled my eyes, nodding that he had my attention.

"So I spin around, ready to kill whatever demon it was that was stalking me in the effin' store. It wasn't a demon, Harris. It was -"

"Oh. My. God," I said, before he could finish. I cringed. She didn't. Please, god, please say she didn't. "It wasn't my mother, was it?" I flinched slightly, praying that it wasn't.

"In all her frumpy nightgown bleedin' glory. She attacks me. . .ME, the Big Bad! She throws her arms around my neck and squeezes me, telling me that she's so glad she found me because she needed my help." He took another drag off the cigarette, and I couldn't help but watch as he wrapped his lips around the butt of his smoke. It was almost erotic, definitely oral. I actually found myself wondering what it would be like if those same lips were wrapped around the head of my cock.

I was so not gay!

"Your mum - who is way beyond hammered now, I swear, Harris, she smelled like a soddin' liquor store - informs me that you are a Ponce, and that I really should consider going out on a date with you. A date! Harris, your mum is trying to set me up on a date with you!"

"I am not gay!" I growled, wanting to rip him apart. He was making me so angry! What the hell would be wrong about wanting to go out on a date with me? I wasn't that bad of a guy! I mean, sure, I had my moments that made my friends look at me a little strange, but everyone did! And here he was acting like it was the end of the world for the two of us to go out on a stupid date! There was absolutely not one good reason why Spike and I shouldn't have gone out on a date!

Well, other than the fact that I wasn't gay, of course.

"So your mum starts arsing about, babbling about how she read in her book that she should love her gay child, and she just wanted you to be happy, and that she knew that I would make you happy, because apparently, your mum thinks that I, like you, am a Poof. Something about bleaching my soddin' hair and the way I always stayed the bloody night in the basement. She also informed me that she would be very glad to call me a son-in-law because I was a handsome bloke. She winked at me. Harris, your mum winked at me."

I covered my face with my hands, mortified beyond belief. I thought that when she was telling me she thought I was gay - I thought that was bad. But this. . .it was. . .I was just. . .there was no way I could ever look at Spike again. "I am so sorry," I murmured softly. "She's on this kick. . .she got too drunk, watched some talk show saying to love your gay children, then overheard me and Anya fighting."

"Right," Spike said, "when the chit proclaimed you were a Ponce."

"Pretty much," I said, looking up at him. Our eyes met, and I could have almost sworn that I saw a flash of lust in his. . .I knew that my eye lustage flared. We both looked away. I licked my lips, trying to get the uncomfortable dryness to go away. "Yeah, and she won't leave me alone about it," I murmured. "I tried to tell her, but she's too drunk to pay attention."

"Well," Spike growled. He paused, and I glanced at him. He was standing there, glaring at me, looking as if he were trying to figure out what to say. He opened his mouth, then closed it and frowned slightly, then opened it again. "Don't let it happen again, moron."

With that, he turned, his duster blowing around him. I always liked the way he looked with the duster blowing around, it added to his look of danger. Very sexy.

Well, it would have been, if I were gay. . .

Anyway, he turned, billowing duster and all, and walked away, growling at the people in the crowd if they got too close to him.

I made my way back to Willow and Tara slowly, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. I couldn't believe that the one time my mother had to pay attention to me, it had to be right then, at that particular moment.

And what was up with that look of lust in Spike's eyes?

If Willow was horrified by the messages, she was going to join me in the ranks of plain frightened out of my skull over this incident. My drunk mother attacking William The Bloody in a grocery store, informing him that he should go out on a date with her only son and that he would be the perfect son-in-law. And she winked at him.

My mother winked at William The Bloody.

Could things have gotten any worse?

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