Title: Lifeline
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG13
Genre: Comfort/Friendship
Pairing: Willow/Xander, mentions of Anya/Xander and Willow/Tara
Summary: The apocalypse had come and gone, and it was just Willow and Xander, sitting in an empty bus in the middle of nowhere, and she was his lifeline and he was hers. Just like it had always been.

Life before Xander was…blank.

Willow knew that there was a good five years there where Xander simply hadn't existed. He'd been some nameless boy in the playground that she simply hadn't known or had any real interest in. But, for the life of her, she just couldn't remember anything before Xander broken her favorite yellow crayon during Art Class in the Sunnydale Kindergarten.

She was well aware of the fact that, even without a Xander-shaped distraction, most children wouldn't remember anything before the six-year mark. Willow, however, had always been an exception in a lot of things. She figured it might have something to do with her then-latent magical abilities, but she wasn't too sure. In any case, Willow remembered most of her life in great detail, with the small exception of the few times when she'd been too hopped up on magic to see straight. When she looked back on her life, the memories that stood out the most usually revolved around the man sitting beside her.

Xander had been at the center of her thoughts from the ages of five to twelve. He had been her protector, her friend, and the most important person in her life. Then she turned thirteen, and Xander wasn't just her friend, he was her very male friend, something that she seemed to be constantly—painfully—aware of. Her crush lasted three very long years before she met Oz, before he broke her heart, before Tara came along, before she lost herself in magic. Her world had suddenly opened up so much more. Throughout it all, though, Xander had always remained her friend, her protector.

And as he held her to him now, his face in her neck, his tears sliding down her collar bone, she realized very suddenly that it was her turn to protect him. It was funny, she thought, but bit back her laughter. Because it seemed that, once again, her world revolved around Xander Harris. The apocalypse had come and gone, and it was just Willow and Xander, sitting in an empty bus in the middle of nowhere, and she was his lifeline and he was hers. Just like it had always been.

"Does it ever not hurt?" he whispered against her neck, his voice shaky and deceptively loud in the otherwise silent bus.

Willow wanted very badly to lie, to tell him that, yes, the pain goes away eventually, but she was proof that it didn't. The nightmares and the guilt and the struggle to wait, wait, wait don't do this, don't let it control you, this isn't you. So instead she said,

"No," because it was the truth, and she'd always been a crap liar anyway. But, "It does get better, though," and that was honesty. She would never get over Tara's death, she would never stop hurting, but the pain did lessen. It did get easier.

She didn't realize she was crying until she felt his thumbs at her cheeks, brushing the moisture away from the soft skin under her eyes, no doubt purple from a lack of sleep. She did the same when he pulled back to look at her. His eye was watery, but his face was lighter than she'd seen it in months. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, her cheek, and then her lips, light and chaste.

"I think we're going to be okay, Wills," he told her quietly, pulling her close with a one-armed hug and kissing the top of her head.

They walked off the bus together, and Xander took Willow's hand as they moved towards the diner across the lot, where Buffy waited outside the door. Through the windows, they could see the slayers, all sitting and eating and talking and all together enjoying themselves. Buffy smiled softly at them when they reached her.

"Hungry?" she asked.

"Starving," Xander replied, a goofy grin lighting up his face, and beside him Willow giggled. He looked down at her, his eye soft. A week ago, staring out at the giant crater that had once been his home town, he'd sworn to himself that he'd never love anyone as much as he loved Anya. Now, though, as he looked down at his best friend, he realized that there would always be a slight exception to that rule.