*And I know it hurts; you're just getting older. And I know you'll win. You'll do it once again* I'm Sorry - Blink 182
Xander had stayed with Willow on the bench for a little while, but after she’d started her conversation with her girlfriend he’d felt a bit like a third-wheel gooseberry.
When she’d answered her phone, and he’d heard how weak and tired she was, physically and emotionally, he’d wanted to do something to comfort her.
He knew that if anyone could cheer the redheaded witch up it’d be Tara, so he gave her a quick hug and the biggest grin he could manage, before he wandered off to give her some privacy.
He didn’t go too far away, in case the poor thing thought he was abandoning her, which of course he’d never do, but she was in such a state. He just went far enough so that he couldn’t hear what they were saying.
And all he could think about was Buffy. As he was pacing, back and forth, with the autumn leaves crunching underfoot, it was just Buffy. Buffy Summers. Miss Summers. Summers. Buffy Anne Summers. The Slayer. Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
It was like that one horrifying image of her had been burned into his mind. When he shut his eyes to block out the harsh sunlight, she burned in his mind just as brightly.
He’d seen her so many times, for so many years before, yet he couldn’t picture her smiling or laughing. He couldn’t remember the way she looked when she smiled, or the sound of her laughter.
That was what he wanted. Those memories of her. Happy, funny, witty; kind, caring, loving. He was stuck with her crying, depressed; her hurt, bleeding; her dead, drowned; angrily fighting, strong; and nothing of the way he wanted to remember her.
“Buffy…” He whispered, tears glittering in his eyes. He tried to kid himself it was the wind. The wind was blowing in his face and it was bitterly sharp.
When he turned back to the bench, Willow was smiling. It stung him with jealous pangs. He hadn’t been able to make her smile. His best friend since the tender age of oh-so-young. He’d been unable to make her smile. A simple smile.
After just one phone call from her fantastically amazing, sensitive, perfect girlfriend…hey presto. Magical change. Willow was a different person sitting there, waiting for him to come back.
Because she knew. She knew that Tara, her savior, was all ready to come to her rescue.
Xander turned away again slowly, sorrowful, hanging his head. His eyes were deep, mysterious and haunted. He was shaking, barely enough to be noticeable, as long as he kept his hands clenched into fists.
His savior was in hospital. His savior was in surgery, with a bullet wound to her chest. His savior may even be dying.
Buffy. His savior. The perfect angel. The strong heroine. The Slayer. Buffy.
“Buffy…” His voice cracked from the emotion and he found himself wavering, torn between breaking down right there and staying strong for Willow.
Precious, delicate, vulnerable Willow. An angel in her own rights. She needed a guardian and, for as long as he could cope, he knew he had to be the one protecting her. Or she’d fall apart, shattered into millions of tiny pieces, and it’d be up to Tara to collect them all up and put them all back together again, leaving him the blame.
“Buffy…please.” He fell to his knees in the damp grass, ignoring the crackle of the dead leaves under him. He gulped, shut his eyes. He held his hands together in a position of prayer. “Buffy. Please don’t die. Don’t die Buffy. Please.”
Then he rose to his feet, a little unsteadily, brushed off the dirt and walked back to Willow. As if nothing had happened.
*Tidal waves they rip right through me. Tears from eyes worn cold and sad* Down - Blink 182
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