Xander didn't want to let Tim out of his sight after that. He'd never seen a panic attack that bad, and even Tim admitted that it was worse than he'd suffered for a long time.

And they hadn't talked about the scars, which Tim's short nails had torn the skin around when he'd scratched himself up. Tim had looked like he was close to a repeat attack when Xander had suggested the hospital. Luckily, he was a dab hand at bandages, and Tim had agreed that Gray could come over and check him out. Gray promised no new scars and no risk of infection. The vicious scratches had looked worse than they were.

But still, Tim had only reluctantly had another session with Dr Marvin, and Gray had told Xander to give him time. Maybe even more time than he'd suggested before. So, they hadn't talked.

Tim seemed happier though, calmer being around Xander all the time. After a few days, he seemed to be coming to terms with some of the negative emotions that had been beaten into him by his father. He was trotting alongside Xander now, because he needed to pick up some books from his office at the college, both happy to walk on this bright fall day. It was a long way from home, but it was the sweet spot of a mid-week morning where most people were inside, so the streets weren't crowded.

When they finally reached the university, it was even quieter, because school hadn't started up again yet, so there were only a few groups around the grassy quad. Tim was happily chatting about a job he'd seen online that he was going to apply for, when they heard it. Everyone heard it, and heads whipped around towards the steps of the administration building.

"TIM!" It was a roar.

The reaction was instant. Tim buckled, grasping at Xander's side. Xander was fast enough to catch him, scooping safe arms around his back and positioning him tucked away. He peered toward where the demand had come from, and shuddered. Even if he hadn't already known, Xander would have felt the aura of violence around that man.

Tim's father, Mr Preston, was a tall man, thick and broad and ruddy-faced. There was no question Tim had to have got almost all of his physical appearance from his mom, because superficially he bore almost no resemblance to this person.

He was approaching fast, an angry grimace slashing his mouth, fists clenched.

"Who the fuck are you? Get your filthy faggot hands off my boy."

The circles Xander moved in, it had been a while since he'd had to field such a base insult, and he felt his gorge rise at it. He held it down with difficulty, surreptitiously taking deep breaths as he straightened Tim just behind him and turned to the man.

"Can I help you? You seem to be lost my good man."

He was channeling his strongest power queen persona, and tilted his head back just so he could stare down his nose at the man mountain before him. Tim even let out a tiny, watery snigger, so it was worth it.

Preston spluttered, obviously more used to people instantly cowering before him, and Xander felt a further flash of anger. That kind of arrogance only came with experience.

"Listen, I don't know why you came here, but Tim is just fine. He's been coping perfectly without you in his life, and that doesn't need to change."

"Who the fuck are you to tell me whether I can see my son?"

Tim was clinging to the back of Xander's shirt with small but desperate hands, and Xander could feel him shaking just from that. It just built his need to protect.

"I am his boyfriend. Now, are you leaving, or do I have to call campus security?"

Tim's father growled, unsurprisingly more beast than man.

Xander found himself suddenly beyond bored of the posturing of a man who meant less than nothing in his life. Tim didn't want anything to do with him. Was terrified of him. And Xander didn't care what motivation he'd had for coming here. It didn't matter to them.

He pulled Tim into his side and went to walk around. Preston took another step and Xander straightened his shoulders to stare him down.

"Let us pass."

"I'm not here to speak to you, you fucking queer. I'm here for Timothy."

Xander opened his mouth to respond, but stopped himself.

"Tim, Angel?" he whispered, dipping his head. "What do you want to happen?"

"Why are you here, Dad?"

Tim finally looked up, though he was still clinging tightly to Xander's arm.

"To see you, of course," Preston blustered.

"Bullshit," Tim snorted, and Xander felt inordinately proud of him. "I haven't heard from you in over four years."

"Your sister..."

"I haven't spoken to her either." But he sounded more sad at that revelation.

"She saw you on some thing on the computer. Told me you were getting involved in ungodly practices. Being connected with men," he sneered toward Xander. "I had to come. No son of mine-,"

Xander wondered whether she'd seen Tim on the cam channel, but that would open up all kinds of questions. No, he decided, it was far more likely the girl was surreptitiously stalking her big brother on social media.

"That's it, isn't it, Dad? I am no son of yours. You have no rights over anything I do."

Tim pulled his long sleeves back, revealing his bandaged arms.

"What happened? Did he do something to you?"

"What? No. You did, Dad. You gave me scars that I can't look at. You used a belt on me. You cut me with broken bottles when I didn't learn fast enough."

"It was just discipline. You were a shit of a kid."

"No, Dad," Tim sighed, all signs of anger fading as fast as they'd come. "I wasn't. I had issues that you never cared about. That you didn't know about, and didn't love me enough to learn. I have people around me now who are willing to learn. So I'll be sticking with them. You can leave, and I'd appreciate it if you would never try to contact me again. And tell Clarry, too. She can unfollow me and try and get your attention some other way."

Tim pulled Xander away, reminding him that they needed to get those books from his office, and then they could go for lunch, not even looking back at his father. Xander did though, watching his face slack in shock before it morphed back into something angry, eyes narrowed.

* * * * *

Tim slumped into Xander's chair as soon as they reached his office, his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry-," Xander began.

"Why?" Tim's eyes widened when he realized. "Sorry, Sir, I didn't-,"

"It's okay, Angel. You're forgiven. You're allowed to wig out when something like this has happened. Have you truly not spoken to him since you started college?"

"No. I used to phone my mom, every week. And then she started to be 'unavailable' when I called. I haven't actually heard her voice for almost six months. And I knew Clarry followed my social media, but she never sent messages or anything. Never liked anything. Probably just feeding information to my dad, but there wasn't much there."

"Until you met me."

"I guess that's what prompted it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be for me. I'm just sorry you've had to deal with him. And he came here...I still don't quite understand it."

"Some of the messages I've been tagged in recently. Not just you, the guys from the club, too...it was always an open secret I was gay, but I never actually came out to them. It never stopped him from saying things, while he was punishing me, but if Clarry told him...The confirmation was probably enough for him to want to save my soul."

Tim snorted sadly, dropping his head back to his hands.

Tim seemed to be feeling better by the time he'd eaten a greasy burger, while Xander stuck to chicken and roasted vegetables. His color had come back a little, and Xander was encouraging him to order dessert, when his phone went.

"Xander Miller."

"Xander."

It was the stern voice of the Dean of Classics, Miranda Grossman.

"Dr Grossman, hello. How can I help you?"

"You can start by explaining why I just had the irate parent of one of our students in my office demanding you be fired for grooming and sexually abusing his child."

"What? No."

Tim's concerned head popped up from behind the menu.

"So it's not true?"

"I'm in a relationship with a man who used to attend the university."

He heard the sigh gust down the phone. "Please tell me the relationship commenced after he'd graduated."

"I can't do that, Miranda. But he was weeks from graduation."

"And in your class?"

"Yes, but if you're suggesting there was anything untoward about-,"

"It's not about what I would suggest. It's about a frankly disgusting monster spitting his vile fury at me in my own office, and threatening to take it to the papers."

"I promise, there's was nothing..."

"I believe you, Xander, you know I do. But I'm still going to have to put you on leave until the allegation's been investigated. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. I'm sorry too."