Summary: A sequel to my story "A Hard Game To Play." This is what happens in
those few years where Xander didn't contact anyone.
Spoilers: Minor through the fourth season.
Disclaimer: Joss made the characters. He's evil and brilliant, and since I
am neither of those things, I can't claim the characters as my own. g>
Rating: PG13
Feedback: I love it as much as human Angel (Amy stifles a sob) loves
chocolate.
Tracy and Laura are my Goddesses. Love you guys.
Author's Note: This story is best read after you've read A Hard Game To Play.

Solitaire

by: Amy

* * * * * *

"Coming to your senses isn't as easy as someone might like you to believe,
Doctor," I muttered, keeping my eyes firmly on my hands.

She "hmm"d at me. "And why do you think that is?"

I sighed. "Well, it's not like... When someone tells you to come to your
senses, like you see on all of those dramas on TV, and maybe they get slapped
or shaken by the person who loves them and wants them back, and then the
person shakes their head and starts crying, realizing what a fool they've
been... It's not like that. I guess I'm saying that it takes time."

She set her pen down on the table next to her chair and nodded. "It takes
time to realize that, too. You've really come very far, Mr. Harris. I'm
encouraged with the direction our sessions have been taking this past year.
But I must say, I'm a little... concerned," she said carefully, "That you
continue to refuse contact with any of your friends... Family."

"My friends *are* my family," I said quietly, firmly. She nodded, and leaned
back again, settling into her chair as I went on. "My parents just put me up
here to get rid of me, I think. So they don't matter here. At least not in
the way someone usually thinks their parents matter. Sometimes I wish I had
never been born. I'm sure they feel the same way."

"Why's that?"

"Putting your only son in a mental institution? Having to do that?" I asked
incredulously. I hated it when doctors pretended they didn't know what you
were talking about. "And my parents were unstable anyway. Drinking,
fighting with me and with themselves. That's why my friends were-- are-- so
important. That's why they're family."

"Well, Willow I can understand. You knew her your entire life. Maybe now is
a good time to talk about what bonded you so closely to the others?" she
pressed.

I smiled cryptically. If I ever told anyone the truth of that, the odds were
in favor that I'd never be let out of the institution. Closing my eyes, I
instead pictured Jesse... It had been a while since I'd done that. "Buffy
came to town right before my friend Jesse died."

"Jesse," Doctor Coburn repeated, shoving her glasses back up the bridge of
her nose. "You rarely mention him. Were you close?"

"Very," I agreed. "Very close. I had known him... Well, I met him right
after I met Willow. We were three or something. So his death was really
hard on me. Buffy... I guess at first, though I wouldn't have admitted it
then, filled this hole in my life that he left. I needed a new friend, a new
best friend. She sort of became that. And then, maybe *because* it was
forced, we really became best friends. She trusted me with everything. And
I mean everything. Like I did her. Willow was always in the middle of that."

"In the middle?" She arched her eyebrow.

"In the good way," I assured her. "Cordelia was a different story. Hated
her forever, and then, in your stereotypical fighting fashion, one day we
fell into each other's arms. Lust," I said with a smile. "At first. Then
caring, then the deep caring. I guess she didn't have a lot of real friends,
and that's the position we played for her."

Doctor Coburn listened attentively. "Most of your sessions have been about
Willow," she finally said, after I fell silent. "It's heartening to hear
that you're finally able to step out of that shell, and talk about your other
friends."

I smiled. "All of them have been about Willow. Even this one is, in a way,
I guess. You're the doctor, you should know that."

She let out a soft laugh. "I suppose you're right."

"And Giles?" I continued, "He was there as Buffy's... Father figure, I think.
They met while he was tutoring her. They got really close, we all got
really close. Sunnydale has one of the biggest crime rates in the world, did
you know that?" She shook her head. "Well, it does. We'd all, and I know
this sounds unlikely, but we'd all saved each other's lives on some
occasions."

"Like?" Again, the arched eyebrow.

"Like, Buffy drowned once. I gave her mouth-to-mouth. And Willow had a sort
of unstable boyfriend. Buffy and I got her out of that. He was really..." I
coughed. "Violent. A computer nerd."

"Is this Oz?"

I laughed. "No, Oz was the opposite of violent, though he had sort of a
hairy life." I stifled a snicker at that remark. Good old Xander, able to
fall back on humor to hide behind. "This was her first boyfriend. Buffy had
a violent boyfriend, too, who went through some real changes in his life,
that weren't the easiest things in the world for her. And Giles... I guess
he saved all of us by caring so much. Cordy was the comic relief. She made
things easier, lighter. And Willow... She was the stable one, the one
everyone counted on for support."

I couldn't list the numerous times Buffy had saved my life from vampires, or
the times that Angel had stepped out from the shadows to help with a fight,
or the times that Willow had used witchcraft to defeat some demon, or the
times that Cordelia had researched demons for hours at a time. I couldn't
talk about the things that had happened after that fateful night, the night
Buffy left town and the night Willow died.

Because none of that had happened. It had all been in my mind.

And I couldn't tell the doctor that *that's* what I had meant when I told her
that it's harder to come to your senses than someone might think.

I couldn't say any of it, give any of my friends the credit that they so
rightfully deserved, couldn't let anyone know how long Buffy had sacrificed
her freedom to fight the evils of the world, with Giles helping her, couldn't
tell them about how Oz privately struggled with being a werewolf and never
let any of us know, with the possible exception of Willow. I couldn't
express how truly grateful we were for Cordelia's tactlessness at times,
because it made us laugh, even though we weren't supposed to. I couldn't
talk about how Willow had died, and all that she had done until that point,
all she gave up by trying to help give her best friend her soul back by
giving her demon lover one.

I couldn't say any of it.

So I fell silent again.

"And why haven't you contacted anyone, Xander?" the doctor finally asked
quietly.

"I'm going to," I said softly, resolved. "Someday. Soon. But not like
this, not while I'm still in here. I need to... learn how to deal with
things like this by myself. If I'm still here, if I'm here forever, then
there's nothing for me to shoot for. I want to... I mean, I know they'll
accept me anyway, but I want them to know that I'm different, that I've come
to my senses. You know?"

She lifted her head; she understood. "It's a very hard game to play, Mr.
Harris," she murmured.

I smiled; I had thought that on several occasions myself. Even told Buffy
that once. "Very lonely, too," I agreed. "I mean, solitaire is fun to begin
with, but soon you start to realize that you miss people around you."

"Good analogy," she said warmly, smiling at me. Then she stood. "We're
running a little late. And, I think I can tell you that I'm recommending
your release, very soon."

"Say that to all the boys?" I asked, grinning.

She laughed. "That's not something you should be saying, and definitely not
something I should be laughing at. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Harris."

I stood. "Tomorrow."
* * * * * *

There were a lot of tomorrow's like that. The days came and went, sort of
melting into each other, as I talked about things I had talked about a dozen
times before. The doctors said that they understood-- and probably did, in
their way-- and I took their words at face value, accepting that I was cured
when they told me I was, even though I had thought it could be true an entire
year before they gave me the announcement.

Then was the time for me to decide what to do with my life. Go back to
Sunnydale, that much was obvious. But three years without keeping contact
with anyone, though Giles still wrote me occasionally, was a little
intimidating. Could I just pick up and drop by their houses? Would they
want me to?

Was I ready for that?

The answer was pretty obviously no.

So instead, I opened a small art gallery, and painted occasionally on the
side. Sometimes I hung my own work, but not often, until some of the patrons
wanted to buy it.

Funny as it sounds, I never sold my paintings. They were deeply personal to
me, something I could show but not let people in on the secret of. They were
sacred. Some of them had Willow in them, most did not. And I continued to
draw my life as it would have been if she hadn't died: draw it, paint it,
frame and hang it. Simple, uncomplicated.

I painted thousands of my dreams on thousands of canvases over a period of
hundreds of days. It was easy for me, like purging my soul, getting out the
unwanted, washing away the wishes that were never going to come true.
Moments in my memory suspended on paper or canvas, moments that didn't even
happen, soothed me. Therapeutic.

Finally, I contacted Giles. He was, unsurprisingly shocked to hear from me,
but he consented to talk to me one afternoon. I went over to his house to
have tea.

He met me with a cautious smile and an extended hand. With a smile of my
own, I took his hand and shook it firmly, knowing that coming to him was the
right thing to do... Cordelia wasn't ready for me, and Buffy most certainly
wasn't.

We talked for a long time about my intentions. Was I going to talk to Buffy
soon? he asked me. That question gave me pause, and I changed the subject on
him. He seemed to take the point. "So Buffy has a son, right?"

"Yes." He took a sip of his tea, then set down his cup. "He's a brilliant
little boy. Rather reminds me of what I think you might have been like as a
child."

I grinned. "The brilliant part?"

Giles chuckled. "Well... He's very rambunctious, has a certain... energy,
but tries hard to please Buffy in everything that he does. He looks to her
as something of a Goddess, I think. You'll like him."

I latched onto that. "You think I'll meet him? You think she'll let me?"

"I think she'd love to," he said carefully, choosing his words. "Once she's
ready to accept that you've come back. I think... I think you hurt Buffy
very deeply in not calling or writing her after that visit she paid you. How
long has it been?"

"Almost four years," I said quietly, ashamed. "And I know that, Giles. But,
I've been working hard to be the person I was, or the person that I should
have rightfully grown up to be. And I'm hoping that Buffy-- that all of
you-- will be able to forgive my confusion and hesitation. Nothing about
this situation is easy."

He sighed. "No, you're right. Let me see what I can do. I'll try to...
hint to Buffy about your sudden," he smiled, "appearance back in her life.
She's adjusted well, though not entirely happily, to you being absent from
the picture. It will take some time of getting used to."

I nodded, ready to agree to anything he said for a second chance at the life
I should have had.

We turned the subject to different things, then. The beauty of Giles's wife,
the fun of playing with Buffy's son. For some reason, Giles refused to tell
me his name.

I wondered at that, but there were a million other secrets that I had yet to
give up, a million other things to deal with... So I left it alone.
* * * * * *

And then, one afternoon, Giles called me over.

It was sudden and quick, but I knew that it was time.

I learned a lot of things that afternoon, things I hadn't understood before,
even at the hospital. I also re-learned some things that I had forgotten,
like the warmth of a hug, two hugs at the same time, in fact, and the smell
of Buffy and Cordelia, two of the people I loved most in the world, despite
years of estrangement. Things settled firmly and cautiously into place, the
way they should have.

And I knew that I wasn't going to be playing my lonely game anymore.

I was ready for bigger and better things.

The End

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