AFTER THIS

Warnings: Slash, eventual sex, introductory angst, minor character death.

Feedback: Yes, please. I'll take flames, too, as long as they aren't homophobic.

Music (used while writing): Wise Up by Aimee Mann, Anchors Away by Holding Mercury, Virtue the Cat by the Weakerthans.

Notes: I wanted to write Xander in a slash pairing since the season 3 finale, but no characters did it for me. Giles was too fatherly, although I do like their relationship, which I included, he hates Spike and Angel, he barely knows Ethan, Riley is the most Marty Sue man alive, and I don't like OC's very much. Then- my knight in shining armor- the extremely flawed, canonically gay, dorky Andrew who totally bonded and connected with Xander. Hence, the story.

This is set to be a long universy fic, post Season 7, ignoring Season 8, mainly focusing on Xander and Andrew's relationship and it's development, but also including Willow/Kennedy, Faith/Robin, and possibly a Buffy or Dawn pairing. We'll see. It's centered around the group going to Cleveland, another Hellmouth location, and killing demons around there.

We'll see how long it ends up being, but I have no plans to stop it in the near future, so I guess I'll keep it going until I get bored. Xander's POV.

CHAPTER I

Xander can't help thinking: what next.

It's a whole big mess, his life is. The two things that defined him are gone. The two things that made him special are gone. Fighting beside Buffy- and Anya. The beautiful girl that nobody ever expected a chump like him to get.

But at least his friends are still around, and he manages a weak smile at Willow as the crew clambers on the bus. She reaches for his hand and squeezes it gently. It's their signal. When they were kids, crawling into Willow's bunk beds after a long night of watching Gilligan's Island reruns and eating so much caramel popcorn they felt like barfing, they would hold hands, one on the top, one on the bottom. And every so often the other would squeeze. To remind them that their friend was still awake.

I'm still here.

He's grateful for the touch, and he wants to lean into her- to hug her- but somehow Vi hip-checks him and he ends up flying into a seat next to Giles. Of all people. Giles grins at him. Or, at least, as much as Giles grins.

"Quite a... stimulating day, shall we say?" He says politely, polishing his glasses of vampire dust and dirt. Xander nods numbly, and croaks out- "Yeah."

He misses Anya right then and there. And although he knows that it's not going to go away- now, it's particularly strong. Xander misses the way she crinkles her nose before she laughs, and her too bony chin and her too literal way of talking and the stupid warm mushy way she made him feel inside and her stupid animal sweaters. He misses all her too muches and not enoughs.

And freakin' Giles has to go and make it all so much freakin' harder. "So... is Anya waiting outside? I don't believe I've seen her on the bus..." His voice fades away as he catches the expression on Xander's face. A little heartbroken. A little grief-y. A little broken.

"Oh lord-" Giles's voice catches, and he covers his mouth. Xander hears a engine revving and dimly registers that Kennedy is driving. "Xander... I'm... I'm so very sorry. Anya was a dear friend of mine, and I'm- I'm sure that she would've wanted-"

He stops. This would be where they hug.

Giles chances a warm hand on Xander's shoulder. It's awkward- they're men. They shouldn't touch like this. But Xander doesn't have a dad, not really, and Giles filled the job, and he shouldn't be shaking as much as he is.

Xander feels hot tears sliding down his cheeks. Wipes them away with a finger. More come, far too quickly, and before he knows it, Giles is folding him into his arms and he's resting against the comforting weight of Giles, the heavy smell of paper and ash and ink and fresh air and something- something Giles-y that he just can't describe. He's warm and comforting and boring and Xander cries even more at the thought that he's finally with his dad.

And Giles doesn't shush him, or say anything, or tell the countless Slayers gawking to piss off, he just holds him and that's enough. That's enough. And he waits for Xander to pull back awkwardly. "Thanks..." He mutters. There's nothing romantic about what they've done, but it's closer then they usually care to get.

Giles looks at him with hard eyes. "If you need anything- anything at all..." "I will." He mutters.

Xander doesn't actually know where Kennedy is taking them, and he says as much. Rona, sitting across from them, shrugs. So does Vi. And Buffy. "Actually, that's a good question, Xander." She says, eyes narrowed.

"KENNEDY!" Buffy bellows, stalking off through the aisles, barely stumbling when the bus sharply turns. Xander turns to watch her. This bus is all he has. He feels his heart swell just a little bit. This is all he's got, but it's a lot.

His eyes go to Kennedy first. She's no Tara, but she's beautiful, and Willow loves her, and that's enough. Willow's hand on her wrist and in her hair. And then there's Willow. His best friend for god knows how long. She's fucking amazing, and then some. She's the best person he knows, and he wants her around for a long long time.

Then to Robin and Faith, hands held in a corner, secretive smiles playing around their mouths. She's resolved- not tamed. Faith will never be "tamed". She will always be Faith, fierce and wild, but he can surprise her in a way that Xander never could.

The Slayers. These powerful, beautiful, amazing women. Rona, Vi, Shannon, Chao-Ann... his eyes drift to the spot where Amanda should be, and he wants to do something. But he doesn't.

And he sees Dawn. His Dawnie. his little sister figure, brave and smart and special. Xander is proud of her- and Xander's barely had time to be proud of anyone in his life. But he's proud of her right now.

Buffy is sitting now. She lets the sun leak through the window onto her face, and she smiles and it's so pure and true that Xander wants to cry. Buffy is at peace. At peace with life, and it's finally happened and it's fucking beautiful.

He loves them all in turn, and he loves them all at once. But he sense the one person his eyes haven't met, and although it's difficult, he turns his attention to Andrew.

Andrew Wells is sitting alone at the back of the bus. As Xander looks over at him, he makes an uncertain move to get up and join the group, but the movements of the bus reseat him. He looks glum. He looks as if he knows that he's only here by chance- he's only here because he was saved.

Xander feels a tugging desire deep in the pit of his stomach to take Andrew's hand and lead him to the front of the bus, to join the Scoobies and Slayers. But he'll settle for a conversation.

He plops himself into the seat next to Andrew, who looks up, startled, from the observation of his fingernails. "Oh. Hi, Xander. Um... I saw you crying with Mr. Giles earlier. Not-" He adds hurriedly. "Not that you looked unmanly or anything. Uhm, for example, Superman needed Wonderwoman to console him at the end of Countdo-"

"Andrew? Shut up. Number one, that was a promo image, and number two, Countdown is pretty much the worst Justice League spin off ever. EVER."

He relishes this. He relishes their similarities and this is what he likes about Andrew. Willow and Buffy and Giles have reserved nothing but scorn for Andrew, and though he tried to follow their example, he can't help but think of Anya.

Anya liked him. Anya recognized that he could be a whiny, annoying bitch, but then again, Xander was like that sometimes too. The whole world was. And it dawns on him- he loves Andrew, too. It's dumb and kinda gay, but he loves all his friends and after today, how on earth is Andrew not his friend?

He, along with everyone else, put his life on the line for the greater good. Andrew Wells has finally achieved his much coveted good guy status, and Xander is proud of him for it.

Andrew presses his forehead to the window and draws in a shaky sigh. There's still blood on his face, (Anya's blood?) and Xander wants to point it out with some witty joke, but his hands are trembling and his words fall flat.

He wants to watch just then. He wants to watch Andrew for just a little bit- not in a gay way, not in a artistic way- he just wants to watch somebody and pretend he's a bystander. Pretend that his life isn't limited to these leather seats and these thirteen other people. Xander watches Andrew as his profile lights up against the sunset.

"I'm so tired." Andrew laughs humorlessly, wincing as his head whacks the window after Faith, the newly assigned driver, runs over a bump. "I just want to go to sleep for pretty much ever." He awkwardly smiles, and Xander registers that they're both still in a state of shock.

"I'm pretty tired, too." Xander admits. "I'm way too buzzed to sleep, though. You know, it's funny, you're annoying me way less then you usually do." The words slipped out of his mouth abruptly, and Xander tries to backtrack, but Andrew cuts him off. "It's prrrobably because we're not talking much."

"Heh. Yeah. We should stop before we attempt to tear off each other's heads or something. We're approaching another Hellmouth."

"You mean, metaphorically?"

"No, seriously. Willow just told me we're going to Cleveland. Apparently, telepathy is really handy sometimes. Who knew?"

Andrew turns and looks at him with such admiration that it makes Xander's heart ache. Just a little bit. "Telepathy? Like... Jean Gray? That's so cool!"

Xander shrugs it off and, suddenly, he feels like he could sleep forever. "I'm going to try and fall asleep." He ventures. "Go nuts." Andrew says, and resumes his studying of the Kansas landscape.

He closes his eyes (eye?) for but a second, and he's gone into a thick, dreamless sleep.

When Xander cracks his eyes open again, he's dimly aware of a shallow breathing next to him, and the fact that his hand is on Andrew's thigh. He hastily pulls it away, and he sees that his hand is covered in dried blood- the same that's on Andrew's jeans. It comes rushing back to him. The whole stupid thing.

It's dark now, and he can barely see Dawn leaning on Vi. Nearly everyone is asleep, with the exception of Willow, who's got the driver's shift. Carefully, he extracts himself from Andrew, and- nearly as an afterthought- drapes his jacket over the sleeping man. He shifts slightly in his sleep, and he smiles, the corners of his mouth wrinkling up in that- Andrew way he has.

Xander carefully trods up to the drivers seat and touches Willow gently, his hand resting on her shoulder. "Hey."

"Hey," She says, tiredly smiling up at him. "Wanna eat?"

"Always." Xander grins at her. His Willow. "Burger King?"

"Yep."

"So... are we really going to Cleveland?" He asks, incredulous. "Because, if we're just chilling in Kansas- well, I don't want to."

"Yeah. We're going to Cleveland. None of the Slayers really have a home to go back to, and we figured that if anyone wants to leave when we get there, there's a good airport and Buffy's still got her bank card and all. So- yeah." Willow smiles at him again.

"Will?"

"Yeah, Xander?"

"Do you..." He struggles to find the words, like he's struggled to find so much tonight. "Do you think it's all going to be... okay?"

"Yeah. I think I do."

It's with her certainty that he gathers the courage to walk back to his seat with Andrew and watch him sleep. Because if it's all going to be all right, he wants to know that Anya hasn't died for nothing. That Andrew is worth protecting.

Xander thinks he is.

He falls back into sleep, roused once more a few minutes later by a sleepy Buffy rounding everyone up to grab a bite to eat. The Scoobies spilled out of the bus, yawing, stretching, chattering.

Except Andrew. Who is still sleeping, smiling, under Xander's jacket. Xander brushes a stray piece of hair off his forehead- then wants to pretend- badly- that he hasn't ever touched this skinny, squeaky boy.

He's not exactly himself right now, and so when he rouses Andrew, sleepy lashes opening for him, he merely pushes him up and along. "C'mon. We're going for food." Xander mutters, and the barely awake Andrew follows him, puppy like, as he stalks through the aisles.

The sudden, cold air hits him the second he steps off the bus, and like so many other things, he only dimly registers that they are at a Burger King in Missouri. The only reality of the world seems to be that Anya's dead.

And Anya's still dead under the harsh light of the fast food joint, Anya's still dead when he sits down to half hearted conversation with Dawn, Anya's still dead when his hands ghost over his eye patch and he goes to face the itch he can't reach.

Anya's still dead when Willow shows him to his room, Anya's still dead when he stumbles onto an uncomfortable motel bed. Anya's still dead when Willow leaves for Kennedy, and she's still dead when Xander starts to cry again.

He doesn't notice the tears until the door to his room bursts open. "Hey, Xander-"

Of course. It's a breathless Andrew, red eyes. He thinks, just for a second- that Andrew doesn't deserve to cry- because it's his fault that this whole fucking thing happened. But when Xander finds the barely there strip of blue among the puffy redness of tears. "God! Andrew, do you ever knock?"

Xander turns away from him, pinching the bridge of his nose. He doesn't want anyone to see that his face is wet. Particularly Andrew. He wants, with the faithfulness of a child, Anya. He wants Anya to lead his hand away from his face and kiss him until he stops shaking.

Andrew hovers uncertainly in the doorway. He doesn't ask to enter, but when Xander reluctantly waves his hand, he rushes into the small room. "I'm sorry." Andrew blurts, looking close to tears once again. "I'm, uh, sorry that I'm here, and I'm sorry about An-"

Xander cuts off the squeakiness with a wave of his hand. "Don't. Just- please don't." He feels fresh sobs threaten to wrack his body, and he pushes them back and attempts to lock them in the little box he's reserved for them. Xander hasn't felt himself cry- really cry- since he was a really little kid.

And suddenly, the memories just build up. Spike raping Buffy. Dark Willow. His dad. Anya. All the horrific things he's seen and been forced to deal with as if it was nothing over the years. The tears come, and he begins to cry like he's never cried before.

The box is opened, and the slow buildup comes rushing out, and he remembers that Andrew is there, but there's no way to put a lid on it now. So Xander lets Andrew watch. And all at once, Andrew's hand is on his shoulder, gently, hesitantly resting.

Then the hand is gone, and Xander is being gently pushed back on the bed, and covered with the soft comforter. And he's still sobbing, but eventually he slips back away into sleep.

The soft, shallow way Andrew is breathing isn't much.

But it's enough.

Author's Note: Don't worry, children. It gets less angsty and far more in character next chapter. Also, why was the bus going so fast, may you ask? Willow is using her powers to speed them up. Mwah ha ha, magic works wonders.

See you next chapter.