Disclaimer:
If BtVS were mine I'd be rich and not writing fanfiction.Author's Note:
This is my first Buffy fic, and it is primarily a Xander/Will fluffy song-fic. That's basically all I write anyways. Song-fic fluffiness. Takes place in mid season seven, around when the Potentials are pouring in and before Willow and Kennedy hook up. I like Will/Tara better, because it's slash. I can't really do normal romance that well. I have no clue why. Slash is just easier it seems.She Will Be Loved
Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else
In a way, Xander Harris was glad his best friend's girlfriend had died. He couldn't stand seeing her with a woman when he could have had the chance to have her himself. It was kind of like a punishment. A punishment that very plainly said if he continued not to take things when he had the chance, he would end up with nothing. On this particular morning, Xander sat in his apartment, feet on the coffee table, staring blankly at his TV, some infomercial about a thigh-master sending light to his face.
Xander cleared his throat and turned the TV off, standing up and stretching his arms, pondering about lost loves. He had been so ignorant, drooling over what he could never touch, that he failed to realized Willow, his very best friend, was madly in love with him. He had Cordelia and lost her to a Watcher. He crunched his soda can, Coke squirting all on his hand and staining his carpet. He had something for once: he had Anya. But he had been stupid again and lost her too. And a long time ago he might have wanted Willow. He did, too. But he wanted the impossible, always something better than he could earn, and lost her to Oz, and then Tara. Now he wanted her again.
He got dressed and flopped on his bed with a Sports Illustrated. Flipping through the pages he looked at the swimsuit models. Well, he thought, they're beautiful, but there's nothing really stunning about them. Nothing sets them apart from everyone else. He ran a hand through his black hair and whistled. Today was what, Sunday? Yeah, probably was. He abandoned the magazine and the women inside it to brush his teeth and go through his morning routine. All through everything Willow kept drifting through his mind. What was this? Torture? It seemed like it. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He sighed and then grabbed his coat, slipping his feet into running shoes.
The rain was falling hard, and Xander failed to notice it until a few blocks later, when he nearly flattened a cat. He turned his windshield wipers on and drove out of Sunnydale. He left it all behind him, and would stay out, for at least a few hours. He drove about one hundred miles, the big sign that signaled the end of Sunnydale looming in his mind. It was a signal for something; he knew it. He was being called back, something was messing with his mind-- it was aliens! They were messing with his mind and trying to make him go back to Sunnydale and get killed. They certainly won't get me, he thought angrily.
Fifty more miles. Twenty. Fifteen. There was a gas station wherever he was. It was afternoon now. It had stopped raining and hour and a half ago. Xander found his way to a hotel, booked his stay for the night, paid with whatever cash he had in his pocket, and went up to his room. He laid down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. His eyes hurt. His hands were sore from gripping the hot steering wheel all day. He wanted to get to sleep but a combination of Willow and what he thought were aliens crept around inside his head, calling to him. He found solace in a book inside one of the drawers that some visitor probably forgot a long time ago. The book wasn't very tasteful, and it had no plot, but it kept his mind off his Martians-- er, thoughts.
- - -
The next morning, Xander checked out and got back in his car and retraced his tracks. The sign was there when he got back. "Aliens." Xander muttered to himself.
He didn't really want to go back home, to have to face his lost loves and memories; it was something he had to do, though. Xander stopped and his engine stalled. He looked at the town, with its one college, one high school, one elementary school; one junior high, one Starbucks. Did he really want to go back there, where all there was happened to be death, vampires, demons, ghosts, and the occasional werewolf? No, he didn't. But then again, he didn't really have a choice. He gathered up his wits and looked at his watch. Okay. It was ten-thirty. He noticed now that it was still raining. Buffy was probably taking the Potentials slaying, like she did every day, rain or shine.
Xander drove on. He passed the familiar sights that brought a recollection of various fights and sometimes deaths. He tried not to look where it wasn't necessary, but he couldn't help it. He drove to the (former) Summers' Residence and parked his car, standing in the rain, and then he ran for the door.
I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow
I want more
He knocked, and to his surprise: someone answered.
"Xander? What are you doing out in the rain?" A familiar redhead asked.
"Uh… uh…" He couldn't think of anything to say. He had seen this woman every day of his life it seemed, for every year of his life. Gone out with her a few times even, though then it didn't mean much. Would this be one of those things that meant nothing when they were obtained? He hoped not. He wanted her. He wanted more.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." He managed to say, staring at her, trying to comprehend his feelings for her. Love, yes it was there. But in a brotherly sense? It had been. But now there was a love beyond comprehension, beyond words, beyond feeling. This was more. Willow stared at Xander, standing on the porch, looking at her, she was looking at him; there was something familiar in this whole scenario. "Uh, Will?"
"Yeah, Xand?" They spoke as if in a trance, neither one taking their eyes off each other. Something was different here, something they couldn't understand, couldn't pin down. It was exciting, but so confusing.
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah, sure," she said, her voice still in a zombie-like state. She stepped aside and he stepped inside, looking at her face. He wanted to touch it, could he touch it? He touched it, his finger tracing across her cheek and over her lips. It lifted her chin up. She looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. She bit her bottom lip so hard that blood came out and he traced his finger across again to wipe it away.
"Willow, I think I love you," Xander said, staring into her eyes, looking deep inside her.
"That's good, because I think I love you too," and she leaned in close to him and touched her lips to his, and her tongue touched with his. She pressed her body to his and different emotions poured through her body as did through his. Was this wrong, somehow? Willow was gay, he was currently in a big relationship mess with Anya, one of the Potentials was warming up to Willow…
But none of it mattered at present.
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved
"Xander," Willow began, breaking apart from the kiss long enough to say his name, "something doesn't feel right."
"I know," he sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice." He laughed a little bit. Willow sat down.
"I mean, I love you and everything, but the whole with Tara and you and Anya, and I'm a lesbian, and then again that can't be right because I love you and-- I'm spazzing out again." She buried her head in her hands and Xander looked up.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he said, "we were supposed to be friends and then we liked each other and then we were friends, and Buffy came along. Then it was confusing. We were pulled into this world that we didn't even know existed. And who knows? Maybe it doesn't. Maybe we're clinically insane patients and we dreamed all of this."
"But, Xander,"
"And it could be the aliens," he said, throwing his hands up in anxiety.
"There are no aliens, Xander."
"There is everything else! You name it, it's there! And remember that meteor? Huh? There was definite alien-ness in that meteor!" Xander ran a hand through his hair and sat beside Willow.
"Well, you are right," she whispered, placing a hand on his chest, "and I think that wrong something went right. You know, all quick and stuff."
"How? We don't even know what was wrong."
"I think that's it. The whole little wrong situation. Something felt weird because there were still some dissolve-y little things floating around." She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.
Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get so insecure
It doesn't matter anymore
Xander unbuttoned Willow's shirt, pulling the sleeves down until it was almost off. Willow pulled off his T-shirt and he began on his pants until Willow stopped him.
"Not yet. We may not be the virgin-est people, but we're starting over."
"I trust your decision," he whispered. "I always did." Her tongue explored his mouth, and his touched hers and he held her in his strong arms. They fell onto the couch and Xander pulled Willow's shirt all the way off and it lay on a crumpled heap on the ground along with his own.
- - -
Buffy came in, leaving the Potential slayers to pig out in the kitchen, and went to sit in the living room around five that evening. She saw Xander and Willow asleep on the couch and smiled, walking back in the kitchen and herding the "Slayerettes" in the back yard for some drills.
Willow yawned and prodded Xander. He woke up with a start and looked around jerkily before resting his eyes on the girl beside him.
"Hey, Will," he said, stretching out.
"What time is it? Buffy may be back." She sat up as Xander picked his watch up off from the ground.
"Uh, it's eight." He laughed as he looked down at them. "I think we got carried away," he motioned to himself and she dressed in only underclothes.
"Well, it certainly isn't a first." Willow said as she gathered up her clothes; putting them back on and lying back down beside Xander.
"Will," Xander started slowly, sitting up and pulling his own clothes on.
"Mm hm?" She looked at him with a look of adoration in her eyes, almost like the way she used to look at him, he remembered, when she used to love him. But something was missing in the look. The lust wasn't there. He stood up and looked into her deep green eyes, trying to sort out what he was trying to convey.
"I love you. I love you so much that it's not even funny anymore. I'm sorry I let you go. I will never do that again, I swear it. This is the most I've ever felt for any person before. Believe me. Tell me you love me." He held her hand and she looked down and a teardrop fell down on his hand.
It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along
My heart is full and my door is always open
You can come any time you want
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved
"Xander," she began; he could feel her shaking, "I love you too. But I'm not sure if I love you in that way. And I don't want to say this, but I think I have to." They walked to the door and she kept herself from crying. "I think that I have to tell you," she opened the door, "goodbye." And she nudged him out and shut the door, slamming her back against it and sliding down to the ground, sobbing.
Xander walked, stunned, to his car and got in, driving along the road to his apartment, her voice echoing in his ears. The goodbye he heard, the look in her eyes. The comfort she lacked in their kiss. He got out, locked his car, walked into the apartment building and unlocked his door. He fell onto the couch.
I know where you hide
Alone in your car
Know all of the things that make you who you are
I know that goodbye means nothing at all
Comes back and begs me to catch her everytime she falls
Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful…
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved…
In a way, Xander Harris was angry that his best friend's girlfriend had died, he couldn't stand seeing her with anyone else when she could have the chance at that love she once desired and was glad she had. It was kind of like a punishment. A punishment that very plainly said that being selfish only brought horrible pain when you finally got what you wanted. On this particular evening, Xander sat in his apartment, feet on the coffee table, and he was right back where he started.