Title: Seeing Black

Author: Lysa-uk

Rating: PG-13

Distribution: If you want it, ask first, and you can have it.

Feedback: Is Nicholas Brendon hot? (In case you're wondering, the answer to the question is an almighty 'Yes!')

Summary: What if Warren's bullet hadn't hit Tara and killed someone else instead?

Spoilers: Very much Season 6

Notes: Okay, so I had this idea a long time ago. I was watching the end of season 6, and because I'm such a huge Willow/Xander 'shipper, I had to think... 'Hmm, what if...' and that's pretty much where this came from. Before anyone starts telling me that this is just the last three episodes of s6, they'd be partially right. I have a lot of scenes from the episodes because it's what I think needed to be there to be able to look at the story in broader terms. I've left things in because it made more sense than to take them out and just refer to them, but I have added a lot of my own work to it. I've changed certain dialogue, added extra scenes and made one or two minor differences. I've been working on this for a few months and is pretty much the longest fic I've ever finished, but please, if you start to get bored, I promise there's a few bits in there that are different to what was on screen. Wow, my note blurbs are kinda turning into essays.

Dedication: To Amanda: The Best Friend A Girl Can Have. Thank you for all of your help, and if you don't quit dreaming about Nick, I'll have to kick your ass and I'll take Nathan!

The bedroom was warm, sunlight streaming in through the glass of the window in the Summers house, whose population, according to Buffy, was pretty much everyone she knew. It was light and airy, which was significantly appropriate to Willow Rosenberg right now, and it felt like the reason for it was Tara's presence there with her.

The irony didn't escape Willow that while Tara had been gone, life had been dark and hard and wrong, but with her...it was all floating on air and cotton candy. She felt like she could handle anything.

She basked in the glow of being back in Couple Land, vowing never to return to the unhappy vacation spot of Solitude Island. The sight of Tara in her room again, after such a long absence, filled her with an inner calm she couldn't explain and she silently wondered when exactly would be the best time to ask the other girl to move back into the house with her. She didn't want to rush her back into the relationship, even after the blissful few days they had recently spent together. She didn't want to stifle her, to suffocate her with her feelings, but she needed her to know that this was where they were supposed to be – together. Nothing seemed right when they were apart.

"Hmm," Willow said as she pulled on a white shirt with the sun on her back, concentrated by the windowpane, warming her through and through. "Hey," she said with a smile at Tara. "Clothes."

Tara smiled back in a way that made Willow melt. "Better not get used to 'em," she purred.

Willow purposely leant forward, taking hold of the belt tab in Tara's jeans and pulled the other girl toward her. "Yes, Ma'am," she said as she put her arms around her and kissed her, the feeling soft and sweet and completely loving, enveloping her in a comforting, familiar cocoon.

Tara sighed contentedly as their lips parted and they hugged tenderly. "Xander," she said matter-of-factly, looking out of the window.

"Okay," Willow said playfully with a grin playing on her lips that she doubted would ever leave as she left the comfort of her girlfriend's arms and crossed over to the other side of the room to her dresser. "Not quite the response I was fishing for."

"No, he's here," Tara said with a smile, watching Xander from their second floor window, giving her a birds-eye view of the yard below, seeing him walk slowly across the lawn to where Buffy was standing in the small garden.

"You think they're making up?" Willow asked hopefully.

"I hope so," Tara said, a grin full of innuendo and intention, as she turned to her girlfriend, completely glowing in the morning sun. "That's the best part."

Buffy used the stick she had found in her yard to poke at the flowerbeds her mother had planted when they had first come to Sunnydale, carefully trying not to destroy the fauna as she checked the landscape, looking for anything suspicious or left behind by the Geeks. Or possibly the Nerds. She still hadn't quite decided which was more fitting for the Trio of Freaks that had made her life worse these past few months.

Xander stood behind her, nervously and uncomfortably stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pants. "Time for the spring poking already?" he asked.

Buffy turned around to look at him, his face older than she remembered before, but then, they had all been through a lot lately and a slap in the face of guilt hit her that she had only contributed to it, been part of it, not made it better. "Just making sure there are no more evil Trio cameras," she told him. "Or, evil Uno," she added.

"The sinister yet addictive card game?" he asked.

"Warren," she told him with a shrug. "Jonathon and Andrew got clinked, but... Warren pulled a Rocket Man. It was a thing."

"You'll find him," Xander said sincerely. "He won't be much good without his friends."

"No," she agreed softly, his words hitting home, maybe more than she'd intended. "He won't."

Awkwardly, both uncomfortable, they let a silence develop between them as they unconsciously moved to the wooden bench on the lawn, sitting opposite one another.

The first few moments were so permeated with tension that it was like they were strangers to one another. Buffy strangely thought back a few years, back to Xander asking her to accompany him to the dance and her declining, the atmosphere much like it had been then. She wished that were all that was standing between them now. But somehow, she knew that it was going to take more than a drowning and a resuscitation to build bridges.

Fortunately for the thoughtful Slayer, Xander was the first to speak. "How did we get here?" he asked softly.

"Scenic route," Buffy said with a shrug, trying to ease the tension between them. She was glad that he was opening the conversation, because she was sure she didn't know where to start. "Long Drive."

"The past few weeks..." he began.

"I know," she agreed, her eyes suddenly unable to meet his.

"I thought I hit bottom, but...it hurt," he told her, his voice full of emotion and sincerity. "That you didn't trust me enough to tell me about Spike. It hurt."

"I'm sorry," she apologised, meaning every word. "I should have told you." And she knew she should have, but telling someone else about the vampire would have meant that it was real, and she hadn't been ready to accept what she had done until she had to, for the sake of her friendships.

"Maybe you would have," he said, "if I hadn't given you so many reasons to think I'd be an ass about it."

"I guess we've all done a lot of things lately we're not proud of," she said thoughtfully.

"I think I've got you beat."

"Wanna compare?" she asked, the smallest of smiles on her face.

"Not so much," he said with a sad smile. His face became serious again, his eyes filling with tears, hoping the feeling he had inside was their friendship rebuilding itself, because he needed his two best friends more than anything else in the world. "I don't know what I'd do...without you and Will..." he told her honestly.

"Let's not find out," she said, her own eyes filling up as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "I love you," she told him desperately. "You know that, right?"

Xander finally allowed himself to let go of all of his anger and pain as a tear made its way down his cheek, the relief palpable on his face.

The sound of the gate into the yard being opened caught his attention, and from where he was sitting, still hugging his friend, he saw a furious figure enter the yard. "Buffy!" he said, his eyes wide in horror as he extricated himself from her embrace. He hurried to his feet, Buffy immediately on the defensive when she saw Warrens battered and humiliated face, full of rage from their last encounter.

"You think you can just do that to me?" Warren yelled at them, looking incredibly like one of the lunatics Buffy remembered from her brief spell in the lunatic asylum – courtesy of Warren and his pals. He stood in the shade of the house, determined but deliberately not getting too close to his foe in case she kicked his ass again.

"You think I'd let you get away with that?" he yelled angrily, his face contorted in fury as he began to laugh maniacally. "Think again..." he said as he pulled out a black automatic handgun, opening fire with a violence that seemed to surprise even him, the noise deafening as the bullets exploded from the muzzle.

Buffy felt herself falling to the ground, unsure of how and why, and, as her head hit the ground, the gunshots still permeating the air around her, there were a few seconds when she couldn't move, couldn't hear or think, and couldn't remember. Then, slowly, in moments that felt like hours, she felt herself regain her senses, and as she lifted her head, she caught a glimpse of Warren fleeing her yard, gun in hand.

With her girlfriend's back to the warm rays of the sun, Willow thought that Tara reminded her of an Angel – the ones she'd seen depicted in books she'd used for researching over the years. The archetypal glow around her, the innocent, sweet smile, and the aura she had around her that looked like a halo. She couldn't resist that look in Tara's eyes that conveyed everything she was feeling, and when she leant forward, ready to gorge herself on Tara's kisses, she wondered how she could be so happy.

But, as her lover began to respond in kind, there was a noise, or a series of noises, something that chilled her to her very core, and instinct made her pull Tara out of the sun, just as something broke through the window.

"Your shirt..." Tara said as she hit the ground with a hard thud, Willow landing next to her.

"Tara..." Willow said worriedly, the adrenalin coursing through her body as she sat up quickly and grabbed the other girl in a crushing hug. "God, Tara, baby, are you alright?"

Tara smiled, shocked but safe in Willow's arms, and nodded emphatically. "Yeah," she told her. "I-I-I'm fine," she said. "I mean, I think I hit the deck pretty hard, but okay," she said. She looked at the hole made in the pane of glass, a deep concern on her face. "What the hell was that?" she asked, but didn't give Willow time to respond as she felt the damp patch on her sweater where Willow had held her, a dark red stain growing on the white shirt Willow had only put on a few minutes ago. "You're hurt!" she yelled at the bewildered redhead.

"I'm fine," Willow said, not feeling anything until she looked down and saw the rapidly spreading blood stain at her shoulder, and the tiny hole that seemed to be exuding an impossibly large amount of fluid and found herself suddenly feeling faint. "Or not..."

Buffy cricked her neck as she got to her feet, shaking off the last remnants of what she suspected might have been a concussion if it hadn't been for the slayer constitution. "I always said those things were never helpful," she said to herself, brushing the grass and dirt from her clothes. "Where the hell did he..." she trailed off as she looked around for Xander.

When she saw him lying on the floor, the first thought she had was that he was being lazy, because she had learned from experience that that boy would find any excuse to do as little as possible and sleep. She waited for him to make some kind of joke so she could yank him up and make him drive her to find the psycho nerd, with a promise of ice cream as a reward.

But she couldn't see him moving. She couldn't see the rise and fall of his breathing that she was sure was supposed to be erratic after having someone wave a gun around in the air a few yards in front of them. She knew there was something terribly wrong by the terrible icy feeling that gripped her heart like a tightening vice.

"Oh, god..." she said quietly, her hand flying to her open mouth when she stood over him. Then, like someone flicked a switch or pressed a button on the VCR remote control of her brain, something in her mind showed her the events of the last few minutes.

The hug...Warren and the gun...the shots...falling to the ground...

When she thought hard, struggled to focus on the memory, tried to feel his essence when he had touched her, she saw Xander putting himself in the path of the speeding bullet, saw him pushing her to the ground to get her out of the way.

Maybe it was a sense memory that was triggering the events in her head, or maybe it was some sort of advanced Slayer power she hadn't been able to develop before, or maybe it was because she knew him so well, but she saw it clearly now.

There was a steely determination in his eyes that she hadn't really seen before. Determination that she wouldn't die again, and especially not at the hands of such a waste of space. Determination that this time he'd save her, because he'd always felt guilty that he hadn't been able to before. Determination that Sunnydale and the world wouldn't be deprived of a Slayer, that Dawn wouldn't be without her sister, that Willow wouldn't feel that devastation she'd gone through before and gotten herself lost in the Magick. But he didn't spare a thought for himself at all.

As if in slow motion, everything was clear in her mind, and the moments replayed themselves in her mind.

She saw him being shot.

"Willow?" Tara said, instant panic at the sight of the blood, grabbing Willow's injured arm and trying to get a better look at the wound. "Sweetie?" she said, trembling with shock as she put a hand to the hole in her shoulder and pressed against it, trying to stem the flow of blood. "Are you okay?"

Willow fought the urge to close her eyes, even though she could feel her eyelashes grazing her cheek softly for longer and longer periods of time each time she blinked, suddenly feeling very tired. "Yeah," she said slowly. "I mean, I think I've been shot, but..." she trailed off and her eyes widened as she felt Tara lift her other hand and put it to the wound in place of hers. "I think...I think something's wrong..." she told her, her breathing shallow and quick.

"It's okay," Tara told her, reaching up onto the bed they had fallen next to and furiously grabbing for the blanket that lay on top of it. "It'll be okay, sweetie," she said, pulling the blanket down, bundling the material up, pulling Willow's hand away from her shoulder and pressing the blanket to the source of the blood loss.

"No," Willow said, "It won't." When she saw Tara's eyes widen in fright, she put her hand on hers. "I mean, I'm okay, it's just...something feels...wrong..."

Tara leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips to silence her, touching Willow's face tenderly. "We need to get you to a hospital," she told her. "You shouldn't be thinking about this now. Whatever it is, it'll be okay." She glanced around the room, looking for the phone. "We probably shouldn't move you," she said thoughtfully. "We should probably talk to Buffy and Xander and..."

Before she could finish the sentence, Willow was gone. All she saw was the trail of blood left behind her that led out of the door.

"Oh, god..." Buffy whispered tearfully as she carefully knelt next to Xander, ignoring what she'd heard so many times and turning his body over so that he was face up, so she could look at him, to see his wide, playful eyes that held so much love. But she didn't see that. His eyes were closed, and she knew that behind the heavy lids, they were empty, the light and laughter gone.

"Xander?" she said softly, her arm under his head. "Xander, come on," she told him, taking the hand that lay still on the lawn next to him. "It's me, Buffy," she said. "Please, just open your eyes..."

"Buffy!" Willow cried, bursting out of the back door and running across the yard to reach where he lay, falling to her knees beside him. "What happened?" she asked, tears falling down her cheeks like she wasn't even aware of them.

"Warren," Buffy told her. "He had a gun." She watched Willow carefully touching his cheek and felt the hope draining from her. "Will," she said quietly, still holding his other hand. "I don't think he's breathing..."

"No," Willow said, almost to herself. "He's okay..." she said quietly, tightly holding Xander's hand in her own. "He's okay... He has to be..." She used her free hand to brush the hair from his forehead, and looked down at his chest. There, a tiny hole, probably about the same size as the one in her shoulder, in the place where his heart was.

"Xander!" she yelled at him, terrified when there seemed to be so little blood compared to her wound, oblivious to the fact that his heart had stopped beating the second the bullet had hit it, stopping it from pumping the vital life force around his body. "Xander, come on!"

Buffy looked across at her friend, saw the blood at her shoulder and did a double take. "Willow, you're bleeding," she said, shocked.

"That doesn't matter," she snapped at Buffy, not looking away from Xander's body on the ground. "Nothing does."

Having followed the trail of blood from Willow's wound to the back door of the house, Tara looked out at the yard. "Willow!" she yelled. "You need to come inside. You're hurt." When Willow didn't respond to her, just remained kneeling on the ground opposite Buffy, she ran across to them, oblivious at first to the body until she was closer. "Oh, my god..." she said as she reached them, her voice breaking the tension. "Is he...?"

"Tara," Buffy said, looking up at her. "Call an ambulance."

Tara backed away from them, her face paling with the sight of someone she knew lying on the ground, unmoving. "O-o-okay," she managed to get out, before she turned and ran back inside of the house.

Willow felt herself give in to the sobs she had been trying to keep at bay, and used her arms to scoop up the body of her best friend, laying his head on her knees and bending down to touch his face. "Xander?" she asked. "Xander, please," she begged, stroking his hair softly, urging him with everything that she was to open his eyes. "Get up," she told him, sobbing, her head hung down in devastation, watching the blood pouring out of her own body, seeping out of her shoulder wound and running into his bloodless one. "No..." she whispered, not feeling any kind of response from him. "No..." she said again. "No..."

Anyone watching her, this young girl carefully cradling her dead best friend, watching her rocking them both gently and sobbing, both of their faces partially hidden by her long red hair, might not have noticed when the tears flowing from her with grief and pain quickly changed into those of anger. But when her head flew back, they wouldn't have been able to miss the look of pure fury and rage contorting her features.

No one would have missed it when her eyes turned pure black.