Title: Pieces
Rating: PG
Summary: Strength doesn't make it hurt any less, it just helps you function through the pain.
Acknowledgements: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own Buffy, and even if Joss is a sadistic, cruel man I'm grateful him for creating a universe that I can relate to no matter how far out there it gets. And my friend Bert helped a lot with the opening dialogue. Thanks Bert!
Dedication: To the pieces I have left of my family, blood related or not. I want to thank you for helping to keep me propped up these last few months. You helped me realize I'm still alive and part of a world beyond our too-quiet house. I love you all, more than I can say.
~*~
"It's not going to happen, is it?" Xander blurted. They were sitting at opposite ends of the couch watching a rerun of Farscape without paying much attention to it. Buffy looked up at him, startled that he'd spoken at all. He sighed and tried to explain.
"I mean…things aren't going back to normal this time, are they? I keep thinking these things that happen to us are flukes. Weird stuff, a bad day. That someone will do something to fix it because it isn't right. Someone always does. You, me, Willow, Giles, Spike..well not Spike so much cause he's all evil," he ammended, catching the look in her eyes. "Or new people that get caught up in our whole Scooby scene. We start to love the new people too, but then they leave. But at least the three of us were always here and would be. And then we lost you, but we never accepted that, we fixed it. Now Willow's gone, and I miss her. And Tara, Anya, and your mom, and god help me, even Spike. There's nobody left to fix it…" his voice cracked just slightly, sounding tired. "Someone fix it, or show me how."
Buffy felt every word her friend was saying, and she was glad he was finally talking about it without the jokes for once, even if she had no idea what had brought it on. She shrugged and offered him a sad smile. "I don't know, Xand. You're the fix-it guy. I can't even handle duct tape."
"Hm," he responded, a fragment of a chuckle. They understood each other, understood that there were no answers and nothing more to say, so they were quiet again. Abnormally quiet for them, but par for the course lately. Upstairs they heard Dawn get a glass of water, shuffle back into her room and close the door. It broke the melancholy feel of their shared silence, but barely made a dent in the silence itself.
Buffy, Dawn and Xander. They were all that was left, and it felt too quiet. They clung to each other because they were the last remaining pieces of that family of insiders that no one from the normal world could really understand. Dawn couldn't exactly talk to her friends from school about Willow's attempt to raise a satanic temple and destroy them all. Xander's coworkers weren't the type of guys with whom one could share feelings like worry and grief… or anything, really, other than annoyance at the new union rep or complaints about the heat. And Buffy had nobody else, outside the little circle of friends that kept getting smaller and smaller. She tried to be glad she had any friends at all, unlike so many slayers, and she tried to be glad she was alive. It didn't work, though. She could only be glad that they still had each other, and even that small gratitude towards an unspecific god was tinged with bitterness. Gee, thanks for leaving a few pieces of my family. She tried to remind herself that Giles was still a part of her life, even if he only showed up when the world was going to end. They all tried to believe that Willow would be back, all the while knowing it would never be the same even if she did come home in full control of her power. Tara was gone, and like Joyce her absence would always be there to remind them of how good life used to be and how the older they got, the harder life would get.
So together they fought back depression with movie nights, card games, and marshmallow wars. They went patrolling as a trio, Dawn always walking protectedly between them but somehow getting into trouble most of the time anyway. Xander told her she must be some kind of demon magnet- not that the older two had any room to talk, as Dawn so tactfully pointed out.
After patrolling they'd go home and Dawn would run upstairs to claim the first shower. Xander and Buffy would sit in the sticky summer heat on Joyce's couch, coated with vampire dust and usually a few cuts and bruises, and just lean on each other in silence. Sometimes their arms would find their way around each other, or their hands would intertwine gently, or they would exchange a shoulder massage. There was nothing romantic about it, they weren't ready for that anyway, but they both needed touch and the comfort it brought. They didn't have anyone else.
Dawn would come down claiming she wasn't tired enough to sleep yet, and Buffy would run up and claim her shower. While she was upstairs Dawn would prattle on and try to make Xander laugh, although usually all she could manage was to make him smile. She wanted to tell him how impressed she was with what he'd done, how she'd always been impressed with him, that she was proud of him – but she felt awkward coming out and saying it, so she would steer him towards the subject in subtle ways and listen to him talk about the showdown on the bluff with a mixture of pride and fear and pain on his face.
He liked to talk about it because it was on his mind a lot and he had to keep it secret from everyone else, but when he did it always came out as nervous babbling. He knew how close a call it had been, and he knew what a big thing he'd done, but it felt all wrong. He felt guilty and he didn't know why. Maybe it was because he'd let it get to that point, maybe it was because he really had been afraid of his own best friend, or maybe it was because for a minute he'd been telling the truth up there- that he didn't care as much about the end of the world as he did about being with Willow when it happened. Maybe he had only saved the world by accident, and the guilt and the nervousness were because he was taking credit for being the big hero when he didn't feel like one.
Dawn had gone to bed earlier than usual that night, citing plans the following morning to shop for Janet's birthday present, and left Xander alone with these thoughts. Buffy had come downstairs and they'd made small talk and watched tv and pretended nothing was bothering them until Buffy was ready to cry like a soap opera queen, but then Xander had spoken up about the weight on both their minds and because of that she was okay again somehow.
"Xander?" Buffy spoke up suddenly.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
He bunched his brows together questioningly. "What for?"
"Just… for being you. For being here, and not leaving when most people wouldn't be able to handle it, and…" she trailed off. There was so much more to say, but she couldn't express it. She frowned, trying to come up with the words to convey her feelings. The pause felt very awkward.
"You don't have to say it, Buff," Xander interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I know what you mean. I'm glad to be here, even when it's bad, because it feels so good to finally have a family even if we can't always…" he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence- if we can't always stay together. There'd been enough loss in their lives and he didn't want to think about it anymore tonight.
So he met Buffy's eyes with his own and smiled. "Thank you too."