Quarter 'Till Forever
By Lori Bush
~**~
Feedback: lwbush@charter.net
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, etc. owns Buffy. You know the routine.
Summary: Old friends, still friends...
Rated: PG
Author's Notes: Inspired by the line in "Homecoming" about when Willow and Xander are old and in neighboring nursing homes. Fluff-ish.
~**~
"Why do you insist on coming out on the porch every night to watch the sunset?" Willow asked the man beside her. For a moment, she paused and silently marveled. *The man beside me. Who'd've thought he'd still be here after all these years?*
Xander never took his eyes off the beautiful coral and lavender sky. "I'm remembering when I used to have to hate it, because it meant the worst part of the day was about to begin. Then I take a minute to be grateful that's no longer the case."
She smiled sadly, knowing he referred to the closing of the Hellmouth, the day he'd lost the woman he loved. Although it had been a long time ago, she knew now that this was his monument to her, this daily vigil on the porch of the Watcher's Home. And as relieved as they'd all been by the ending of the daily struggle that had been their life for so many years, he'd paid a great price for that relief, and he'd never forgotten. Reaching out, she grasped his hand in hers and squeezed, and knew, without words, he was aware of her sympathy. Of course, she'd paid as well. Willow ran her other hand over the arm of her wheelchair unconsciously.
"Y'know," she began, attempting to lighten the mood, "when you said we'd be in neighboring rest homes when we got old, I kinda got this mental picture of us in his and her wheelchairs."
In the almost sixty years she'd known him, his lopsided grin had never varied. "Who'd push you around, then?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's electric, doofus."
He shrugged, and his grin widened. "You still need me." He thought for a moment. "Although you don't let me push you around in other ways, either. I'm getting cheated here." He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, still as thick and curly as it had been in their youth.
"Not liking the word 'cheat' in a private conversation between my husband and my best friend here, guys," another voice pitched in from behind them.
Xander's grin grew lascivious. "I tried the whole cheating with Wills thing, you know. Didn't work out. Now if Faith was still around... Ouch!" He rubbed the back of his head. "That hurt. I'm gonna make sure my next wife doesn't hit people."
"I don't hit people," and the still slim woman settled in his lap, "I hit you. You don't count - we're married." As Xander's arms circled her waist, Willow felt a twinge of jealousy at the happiness her two friends had found. Guilt followed that emotion quickly, however, when she realized the pain they'd both suffered before they were allowed their happy times.
The closing of the Hellmouth hadn't been easy. Buffy, at thirty, had been older than anyone ever to play the Slaying game. When Cordelia had her vision, the Sunnydale crew and the L.A. gang gathered together and prepared for the fight of their lives. Spike had left Sunnydale years before, and no one ever figured out what happened to him, since he hadn't been seen since, but almost everyone else that had ever been a part of the Scooby Gang had contributed. Giles had even flown back from England, and though none of them had said it, they could see the years hadn't gone easy on him.
Amazingly, the older man had been one of the survivors. But the losses had been many - too many. Both in lives and, well, other things. It was where she'd lost Tara.
It was months later before the blonde actually went away, but Willow knew that a paraplegic lover wasn't what Tara wanted, or needed, atop the horror that would haunt her after the bloody battle. The redhead's injuries in the fight had been enough to ensure she'd never feel again below her waist, and while Willow knew her lover still cared deeply for her, she also knew that she wasn't cut out for the long term care of a crippled partner. Tara was strong, but not that strong. One day, she was just gone, leaving just a note that read "I'm sorry."
At least somewhere, as far as Willow knew, Tara was still alive. So many of their group weren't. Xander's true love, his wife, Wesley, Angel. Gunn lost the sight in one eye, although if it weren't for Fred dragging him away, he'd have been gone, too. Oz had come, and he and Faith left together, although the renegade Slayer was never quite right mentally after her physical wounds healed. Harmless, though - even rather childlike. Those two had died together in a car wreck a few years later. Giles had died peacefully in his sleep, at the ripe old age of eighty-five. The Watcher's Council, which he'd headed up for his last twenty years of life, had a statue raised in his honor. Dawn had been the only one able to make it to the ceremony, though. The others were already ensconced in the home where they now lived - the home for those who'd served the Council - one of Giles' new ideas that had been adopted.
Willow would have never guessed back when it all came down that the two people beside her now would ever recover. Xander blamed himself vocally for Anya's death, and probably silently for others, as well. The woman who now loved him intensely had once felt the same for Angel, and though it had been over by the time of the battle, it was obvious that his loss affected her greatly. Although the pair had drifted apart over the years prior, their shared mourning drew them together, and it was no surprise to the wheelchair bound witch when they announced they'd secretly wed.
"I still miss Buffy," Xander said, breaking the silence Willow hadn't realized she'd let descend.
His wife, cuddled in his lap, ran her fingers lightly over his face, wiping away the tears that no longer fell, since he cried himself out over her years ago. "I know, Xan. We all do. I miss Angel, too." It was still a wonder that, after both losing ones they'd loved so much, they'd taken a second chance.
Cordelia stood, shaking out her still natural although now cinnamon colored hair and reaching her hand to her husband. "C'mon - we're gonna miss dinner." She grinned, consciously pushing the melancholy back and away again. "You're getting too skinny. I need to fatten you up."
Xander let her pull him to his feet. "You don't want me fat, Cor. You've told me that enough. You couldn't stand being married to a fat old man. It'd detract from your looks." And Willow had to admit, her friend had every reason to maintain her pride in her appearance, since she looked a good ten or more years younger than she actually was.
The couple bickered playfully as they went inside, Xander holding the door while the witch motored through. Pausing, Willow looked back at the last red-gold traces of the sunset, addressing the long dead Slayer in her heart, as she often did. *We'll be along soon, Buffy. Keep the lights on for us.*
By Lori Bush
~**~
Feedback: lwbush@charter.net
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, etc. owns Buffy. You know the routine.
Summary: Old friends, still friends...
Rated: PG
Author's Notes: Inspired by the line in "Homecoming" about when Willow and Xander are old and in neighboring nursing homes. Fluff-ish.
~**~
"Why do you insist on coming out on the porch every night to watch the sunset?" Willow asked the man beside her. For a moment, she paused and silently marveled. *The man beside me. Who'd've thought he'd still be here after all these years?*
Xander never took his eyes off the beautiful coral and lavender sky. "I'm remembering when I used to have to hate it, because it meant the worst part of the day was about to begin. Then I take a minute to be grateful that's no longer the case."
She smiled sadly, knowing he referred to the closing of the Hellmouth, the day he'd lost the woman he loved. Although it had been a long time ago, she knew now that this was his monument to her, this daily vigil on the porch of the Watcher's Home. And as relieved as they'd all been by the ending of the daily struggle that had been their life for so many years, he'd paid a great price for that relief, and he'd never forgotten. Reaching out, she grasped his hand in hers and squeezed, and knew, without words, he was aware of her sympathy. Of course, she'd paid as well. Willow ran her other hand over the arm of her wheelchair unconsciously.
"Y'know," she began, attempting to lighten the mood, "when you said we'd be in neighboring rest homes when we got old, I kinda got this mental picture of us in his and her wheelchairs."
In the almost sixty years she'd known him, his lopsided grin had never varied. "Who'd push you around, then?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's electric, doofus."
He shrugged, and his grin widened. "You still need me." He thought for a moment. "Although you don't let me push you around in other ways, either. I'm getting cheated here." He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, still as thick and curly as it had been in their youth.
"Not liking the word 'cheat' in a private conversation between my husband and my best friend here, guys," another voice pitched in from behind them.
Xander's grin grew lascivious. "I tried the whole cheating with Wills thing, you know. Didn't work out. Now if Faith was still around... Ouch!" He rubbed the back of his head. "That hurt. I'm gonna make sure my next wife doesn't hit people."
"I don't hit people," and the still slim woman settled in his lap, "I hit you. You don't count - we're married." As Xander's arms circled her waist, Willow felt a twinge of jealousy at the happiness her two friends had found. Guilt followed that emotion quickly, however, when she realized the pain they'd both suffered before they were allowed their happy times.
The closing of the Hellmouth hadn't been easy. Buffy, at thirty, had been older than anyone ever to play the Slaying game. When Cordelia had her vision, the Sunnydale crew and the L.A. gang gathered together and prepared for the fight of their lives. Spike had left Sunnydale years before, and no one ever figured out what happened to him, since he hadn't been seen since, but almost everyone else that had ever been a part of the Scooby Gang had contributed. Giles had even flown back from England, and though none of them had said it, they could see the years hadn't gone easy on him.
Amazingly, the older man had been one of the survivors. But the losses had been many - too many. Both in lives and, well, other things. It was where she'd lost Tara.
It was months later before the blonde actually went away, but Willow knew that a paraplegic lover wasn't what Tara wanted, or needed, atop the horror that would haunt her after the bloody battle. The redhead's injuries in the fight had been enough to ensure she'd never feel again below her waist, and while Willow knew her lover still cared deeply for her, she also knew that she wasn't cut out for the long term care of a crippled partner. Tara was strong, but not that strong. One day, she was just gone, leaving just a note that read "I'm sorry."
At least somewhere, as far as Willow knew, Tara was still alive. So many of their group weren't. Xander's true love, his wife, Wesley, Angel. Gunn lost the sight in one eye, although if it weren't for Fred dragging him away, he'd have been gone, too. Oz had come, and he and Faith left together, although the renegade Slayer was never quite right mentally after her physical wounds healed. Harmless, though - even rather childlike. Those two had died together in a car wreck a few years later. Giles had died peacefully in his sleep, at the ripe old age of eighty-five. The Watcher's Council, which he'd headed up for his last twenty years of life, had a statue raised in his honor. Dawn had been the only one able to make it to the ceremony, though. The others were already ensconced in the home where they now lived - the home for those who'd served the Council - one of Giles' new ideas that had been adopted.
Willow would have never guessed back when it all came down that the two people beside her now would ever recover. Xander blamed himself vocally for Anya's death, and probably silently for others, as well. The woman who now loved him intensely had once felt the same for Angel, and though it had been over by the time of the battle, it was obvious that his loss affected her greatly. Although the pair had drifted apart over the years prior, their shared mourning drew them together, and it was no surprise to the wheelchair bound witch when they announced they'd secretly wed.
"I still miss Buffy," Xander said, breaking the silence Willow hadn't realized she'd let descend.
His wife, cuddled in his lap, ran her fingers lightly over his face, wiping away the tears that no longer fell, since he cried himself out over her years ago. "I know, Xan. We all do. I miss Angel, too." It was still a wonder that, after both losing ones they'd loved so much, they'd taken a second chance.
Cordelia stood, shaking out her still natural although now cinnamon colored hair and reaching her hand to her husband. "C'mon - we're gonna miss dinner." She grinned, consciously pushing the melancholy back and away again. "You're getting too skinny. I need to fatten you up."
Xander let her pull him to his feet. "You don't want me fat, Cor. You've told me that enough. You couldn't stand being married to a fat old man. It'd detract from your looks." And Willow had to admit, her friend had every reason to maintain her pride in her appearance, since she looked a good ten or more years younger than she actually was.
The couple bickered playfully as they went inside, Xander holding the door while the witch motored through. Pausing, Willow looked back at the last red-gold traces of the sunset, addressing the long dead Slayer in her heart, as she often did. *We'll be along soon, Buffy. Keep the lights on for us.*