Love and Friendship

by

Princess McPhee

Disclaimer: Not mine. Joss Whedon owns all.

Summary: After 'Normal Again' Buffy and Xander share some quiet time. B/X friendship.

Rating: PG-13 (a little cursing)

Xander's head rests in my lap. He's silent and still, and except for the gentle, repetitive motion of stroking his dark hair, I am, too.

Xander's never been one for a huge ego, and even now, after such a bad breakup with Anya, he seems to feel that he doesn't have any right to grieve, at least not openly. Willow's worried about him, and to be honest, so am I. Xander deals by cracking jokes and pretending everything's okay, but that only works in the short-term. Sooner or later, you've got to spill, or you're going to explode.

He's quiet tonight. There's a late-night movie on TV, but neither of us are watching it. Dawn and Willow are asleep, and I can see the light I left on in the kitchen, all the while making me wish I could go turn it off. Money's a little tight, so we make do with as little electricity as possible. But Xander's on the brink of saying something important, I can sense it, and he's worth much more than the few cents it's taking me to run that light bulb.

I'm strangely depressed tonight, too. I could blame it on a thousand things, the foremost of which being my recent breakup from a strange relationship with a demented vampire, but I don't think that's it. I think I'm mourning the loss of Xander and Anya's breakup, too, and not just because they were both such good friends to me.

Because, as selfish as it is, they were the ones that were supposed to work. They were the couple that defied the odds, and made us believe that a relationship well outside the 'healthy' norms could still work. Because they were the light at the end of the tunnel.

And I can't help feeling this way, even if it is selfish.

Xander twists his head in my lap, and looks up at me, his eyes dry, but filled with immeasurable sadness. I know that look, and it depresses me even more. I've seen it in so many eyes.

My own, when I sent Angel to Hell.

Willow's, when Oz left us two years ago.

Xander's, when he and Cordy fell apart.

Mine again, when Angel left us to go to LA after graduation.

Willow's, when Tara left because of the magic addiction.

And now it's poor Xander's turn again.

We've all been even more painful places with relationships than just that short list. There was me and Parker, me and Riley. Xander and Faith. But I'm not recounting those in my head, because they weren't really love. They didn't involve heart-pounding, gut-wrenching, head-spinning agony when they were over. They were just something to mourn the loss of, like an old baby blanket that got shredded and had to be thrown away.

They weren't things that made that look show up in our eyes.

That look that Xander has right now, that makes me want to cuddle him and comfort him and cry because there's nothing I can do to relieve the pain I know he's feeling.

"Buffy?" He says.

"Yeah?"

"I really loved her."

I nod. "I know." And I do. The look in Xander's eyes when he looked at her, it was the look I know I wore across my face for weeks at a time, before the tragedy of Angel took place.

It's a happy. Pure, unadulterated emotion. Thrilled with life, making you feel invincible, making you wonder how you could have ever felt sad in your existence.

"I still do."

"I know that, too." There's nothing like a lost love to make you remember how you used to feel, before the love was lost.

He looks up at me with those wonderfully Xander puppy-dog eyes, and I still want to cry. For him, and for me, because we both just lost something precious.

He lost a love.

I lost a hope.

Maybe the only thing there really is to love, is pain. Maybe it's an unbreakable cycle of happy, sad, depressed. Then it starts all over again.

Maybe it's just another way for the universe to fuck us.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, softly.

I smile, but it doesn't reach my eyes, and I can tell he notices that. "Just how, maybe, love is only there to screw us."

Xander looks at me, and shrugs a little, as best as he can in the position he's in. "Maybe."

We sit in silence for a while longer. Then he pipes up again.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember all those other times when we thought love was going to kill us?"

"Yes."

"If this is the way you felt when Angel left you, then I'm sorry I couldn't have been more help, because I had no idea what you were feeling."

Again, I try to smile, but it comes out more stilted even than the last one. "Trying's what matters, Xand. And you were always there for me."

He doesn't smile, but I can see the affection in his eyes. "You were always there for me, too."

He reaches up and touches my cheek softly, running his thumb over it with a gentle movement. From anyone else it would be romantic, but this is Xander, and I love him, but not that way.

His touch makes me feel so comfortable. So safe. So I return the favor, caressing his face, trying to remember all of the ways his bones are put together. He closes his eyes, and smiles a little.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think love's out to screw us."

I pull away, and he opens his eyes. "Why?" I ask, curious as to what he's thinking about.

He smiles gently at me, sincerely, and despite all the pain I know he's in right now, he's doing his best to be a good friend, and god knows I love him for that, and so much more.

"Because I love you and Willow and Dawnie, and that hasn't screwed me over yet."

I smile back. "I guess that's one way to look at it."

His face is wiser than it should be, as he looks up at me, and his eyes are sincere and serious. "I love you, Buffy," He tells me.

"I know." Pause. "And I love you, too."

He sits up, swinging his legs down from the couch, and scoots up next to me. Draping an arm over my shoulders, he tucks my head onto his shoulder and then rests his lightly on top of mine. I'm again filled with that wonderful, floodingly warm sensation of comfort and love that came to me earlier. I want to stay here forever.

"You know, I probably never would have lived through four years at Sunnydale High if it weren't for you," He muses.

I smile. "Probably not."

He takes mock offensive. "Hey! You think I wasn't smart enough to outdo those monsters?"

"Hey, you said it, not me."

"You don't think I can wield an axe and a stake and holy water all at the same time, and still save someone else's ass?"

I smile, picturing Xander doing what I've so often done, so cavalierly. "I don't think there's a right answer to that."

"You're probably right."

He snuggles me closer, and holds me tightly to his side. "You know, I should probably tell Willow and Dawn I love them more often."

I nod. "I know what you mean." Then I get a crazy idea. Standing up, I turn and face the stairs, cupping my hands around my mouth.

"Willow! Dawn!" I yell.

Xander grabs me by the arm and hauls me back down to the couch. "What are you doing?"

I smile, half-seriously, half-mischievously. "You'll see." Xander rolls his eyes.

A half-minute later, a very sleepy Willow, followed by a mussed-up and yawning Dawn show up at the top of the stairs. "Buffy?" Willow asks. "You called?"

I smile warmly at them, and nod. "Willow, Dawn... I love you. And I'm sorry I don't remember to say it more often."

They look at us, both looking slightly touched and most asleep. "We love you, too, Buffy," Willow says, and Dawn nods.

Xander gets up and stands next to me. "I love you guys, too," He says. "And unlike Buffy, you probably won't get to hear me say it lots and lots of times in a row, so I want you to know I really mean it."

Willow's eyes tear up a little, and she starts down the stairs. Dawn watches her for a second, and then follows. They come down to stand by us, and Dawn hugs me while Willow practically suffocates Xander. "We love you, too." She says.

Eventually, after much hugging, Willow and Dawn go back to bed, and Xander looks at the door. "I better go home," He says, unhappily.

"Why don't you stay here?"

Xander smiles, but shakes his head. "I can't, Buffy."

"Why not? No one's sleeping on the couch, you'll have someone to eat breakfast with in the morning, what's not to like?"

He looks at me, I think trying to assess whether I'm sincere, or if this is the obligatory 'make things easier for the guy who just got dumped' routine. I guess he likes what he sees, because he nods slowly, and follows me upstairs to get some blankets and a pillow. "Thanks, Buffy."

I smile, putting together the bed. Laying the pillow at one end, I hand him a pile of clothes that he left here last time we got covered in demon guck, now freshly clean, and he heads to the bathroom. I go to my room, and change quickly into my nightclothes, a halter-top and a loose pair of thin pants. We meet again in the hall, and I walk him downstairs.

He dumps his crap on the table, and slides under the covers, still sitting up. I push him gently down, and run my hand gently across his forehead before reaching over and flicking off the lamp. "Goodnight, Xander."

"Goodnight, Buffy."

There's nothing in the world that makes you feel the way a best friend does.

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