It was strange he could come to a place where he just couldn't truly be afraid any more. Startled, yes; the sudden and loud could still make him jump and give an often embarrassingly high pitched exclamation. He could still be fueled by adrenaline when he knew his life to be endangered but he had lost an aspect of fear.

In his youth, he had lived with deep, lingering fear for months at a time, the kind that lurked at the back of your mind, always there but only acknowledged when alone in the dark. Fear that some night Angelus would catch him alone and make a distorted, mocking smile the last thing he ever saw. That had passed to be replaced by the idea that he would never see life as a high school graduate.

One after another they had come and gone, these great fears, these great threats. It had changed a little with Glory. Perhaps he had just simply become inured to it, or so he thought at the time. He had even considered that he had at last become brave. He hadn't had the fear then and he had known deep in his heart that they would prevail. It was, he knew now from hindsight, an ironic combination of jaded cynicism and naive optimism. He had been through it enough to look with the jaundiced eye of experience at world ending threats, but having Anya in his life had filled him with hope.

Now after the passage of time his naivete was gone, burned out by his own bad decisions and those of the people he loved. He didn't miss it.

In the normal course of events on the hellmouth another threat, greater then the last, just as they all were, had arisen. He had thought that without Anya to keep it at bay the fear would come to him again, late at night when he had nothing and no one to cling to for comfort. It hadn't. He didn't have the youthful faith that they would come through somehow, he knew that they would very possibly all die. He could stir up no fear of it. He wanted to be afraid, but he couldn't. It had been burned out of him.

It was strange to see these young girls, all so new to it all, wondering how or if they could handle it. Then there were the old hands; Buffy and Willow. Buffy was so stoic and determined, dead set on keeping the life and world that she had finally decided that she wanted after her resurrection. Willow, on the other hand, was be defined by her fears. When they were younger it was fear of being noticed and having her gentle nature bruised again. Now she had little to fear, for she had power and a surprising callousness. Now, sweet Willow had only her own weakness to fear.

Xander rolled and tossed on the couch, trying to sleep. His back and legs were cramped and sore from repeated nights on it. He couldn't even stretch out on the floor. It was filled with the slayers-in-training, who were at last blessedly asleep and silent. He flipped himself restlessly over in time to see Buffy come silently down the stairs and go into the kitchen. Feeling that sleep was far away, he got up and stepped carefully over the bodies in the floor to follow her.

She was regarding the contents of the refrigerator as he entered. "If you look long enough," he whispered, "new stuff appears."

"Really?" she replied, "OOOhhh… juice box! You were right."

Buffy punched the straw into the box and sipped, looking surprisingly young in her night shirt and tousled hair. "I told you so."

"I never doubted." She hopped up on a stool and drank, regarding him closely. "Can't sleep?"

He shook his head in reply, "Nope. You neither?"

She shrugged, "Not for a while."

"All that sugar won't help."

"I don't think anything could help."

They were silent for a moment. "It's nice having Giles around. It's like old times."

Buffy grinned. "Yeah. I'm half expecting Cordelia or Oz to come along."

"Or Angel." Buffy's smile faltered. "I wish he was here," Xander went on, reaching her an olive branch, "we could use the help."

"We could. We could all go to the library at the high school and you could crack dumb jokes and make out with Cordy in the stacks…"

"And you could spend the whole time you're supposed to be reading making calf eyes at Angel over your book."

Buffy made a shocked little sound, "And you could cheat on Cordy and make out with Willow in the stacks."

"And you could… you could… Ah, hell, I can't think of anything. My jokes are not dumb!"

"Are too."

"Are not."

A sleepy voice from the living room said, "Aren't you two supposed to be the grown-ups? Keep it down." Neither of them could tell which of the girls it was.

Xander whispered this time, "Guess we should hit the sack."

Buffy shrugged, "Still wide awake, and…" she trailed off.

He looked at her for a brief moment, utilizing long knowledge of her, and said, "And you don't want to be alone." She shook her head. He reached out and took her hand, leading her up the stairs.

They entered her bedroom, the only one in the house occupied by a single person. Buffy sat Indian style on the bed and Xander flopped out full length. She automatically made room for him, knowing that he would take up most of the space. "So," Xander said, "things are tough these days."

Buffy nodded emphatically, "Yes, sir."

"So," he said, "What are we talking about here."

"I don't know," she said. "It's like the bad keeps getting bigger and we don't."

Xander nodded. "Scared?"

"Of course, but not of what you think. We're going to do the best we can, just like we always do. If we die, I know better then anyone that there is a better place waiting. I believe I'll go back there, and Dawn will too." She smiled down at him, "and you too, and Wills. We'll all be together and safe and warm forever." Her voice had become wistful. "The fear I have is that we, Dawn especially, will miss out on all the good things in this world."

"Buffy," he said, and something in his tone made her look intently at him, "That's exactly what I thought you were afraid of." She smiled down at him and fondly rubbed his arm. Then he gave a lazy smile and added "That and dummies"

"Quit it," she said, punching him on the arm, "I was serious."

"Just because something's serious doesn't mean you shouldn't make fun of it."

"Yeah, So that's how I am. How are you? Are you scared?"

"No."

"Why not?"There was more to her question then Xander wanted to consider, so he just gave a little shrug. Buffy nodded and did not pursue the subject, but she didn't look pleased. The moment passed and they sat in companionable, comfortable silence for a while. Buffy sat looking down at him and he returned her gaze. The feeling of the room changed. They had been revisiting their youth, reminiscing about the library and casually hopping on the bed as if they were going to watch TV and have Joyce bring snacks. At the same moment they each realized that they were adults, alone in a room, sharing a bed.

Xander let his gaze take her in, every detail and nuance. He looked at her exposed legs, taut and firm, his eyes followed the line of them inwards. She was sitting so that her night shirt had ridden up and he could see the plain white underwear at the apex of her open thighs. He found the normalcy of her sensible nightshirt and panties arousing.

Buffy watched him drinking in her body with his eyes, finding to her surprise that she didn't mind. His intensity made her smile, but a part of her was frozen. She loved Xander, deeply and completely, but not romantically. She couldn't let him think otherwise and if he was she had to send him away. It was unfair to tease him; but she realized she wasn't teasing him. She felt the deep wanting. She felt comfortable in the same measure that she felt uncomfortable. She felt giddy and girlish at the way he looked at her. Mostly she felt safe and warm, in need of closeness and wanting to share it.

Xander forced his eyes to her face and smiled. He searched for any sign of hesitation or nervousness and found none. "What are we doing?" he asked.

"I think we both know," she replied in a soft voice. We aren't kids anymore."

"No, we aren't."

Buffy settled herself next to him, lying on her side, one hand resting on his chest. At one time in his life, in fact for many years, Xander would have given almost anything to be in this position. "We're going to, aren't we?" she said. It wasn't really a question.

"I think we are."

For the first time hesitation came into her voice. "This doesn't mean…"

Xander chuckled, the sound surprisingly deep in Buffy's ears, "I know what it doesn't mean and I know what it does." They kissed. What followed was not like anything either had experienced before. For Xander it lacked the wild carnality he had with Anya. For Buffy it lacked the earnest love of Riley or the hard, pure passion of Spike. It was easy and it was friendly; comfort given and taken; compassion in equal measure with passion.

Afterwards, they lay entwined together in silence. Buffy felt relaxed for the first time in many days; tired, physically satisfied and ready for a few hours sleep. She had been having a moment of weakness. It was she that had started reminiscing about their shared childhood in an effort at escape. It was her extraordinary good fortune that she had this man who was willing to be there for her and let her briefly enjoy being a young woman.

Xander's mind wandered lazily over a wide ground. He thought of his long friendship with the woman next to him and knew without regret that he would likely never be this physically close to her again. He enjoyed the idea of keeping a sweet secret between them. He was happy that he could provide her the brief respite she needed. For the first time he thought of Anya and the memories were not bitter. He thought, as Buffy had said, of a lot of good things in this old world and then he thought of The First and felt something cold. "Buffy?" he said.

"Yeah, Xand?"

"I think maybe I am a little scared."

"That's good," she said.