What do we do now?

Well, with the Sunnydale mall not so much closed for business as blown to hell what we do now is find a swanky hotel on the outskirts of LA, put the bill on Kennedy's credit card, send Dawn to bed, and hit the bar. Giles gets a double scotch, Kennedy talks Willow into Margaritas, Faith and Wood check into their room, say they'll meet us down there and never show up, and Buffy gets something fruity and icy and multi-colored that looks delicious (so does Andrew) but I decide to be a man and get a whiskey and coke, even though I really want to get a strawberry schnapps and cream and think of Anya. For some reason it doesn't seem like the right way to do it.

The first round is drunk in stunned silence, the second we toast to the victorious dead and at the third Andrew passes out face down on the bar, Giles calls it a night and the dance floor starts calling to the rest of us.

"Will, you wanna dance?" I ask, noticing the slur in my voice and figuring she doesn't hear it. Not only because she's even more of a lightweight than I am, but because she didn't even hear me asking her. There's a newly-minted Slayer with a tongue stud on the other side of her whispering in her ear and all I see is the back of my best friend as she actually scurries upstairs behind Xena.

"I'll cut in, Xander."

Buffy takes my hand and gently pulls me out to the dance floor for the second half of a slow song. It's weird to feel her pulling my arm around her waist and wrapping her hands around the back of my neck, but hey, nothing in my life isn't weird anymore. The woman I left at the altar is dead, my hometown became a crater in the battle against hell, and the woman I'm dancing with isn't the chosen one anymore. The song changes to some blast from the past 90's slow song and for one whole second I feel like I'm back in High school and back at the Bronze. Buffy must feel the same because she pulls herself against me, presses her face into my chest and I just wrap my arms tighter around her. Halfway through the song we aren't even revolving anymore, I'm just holding her close to me on the dance floor.

I tilt my head down, pressing my face into her gold hair, "We should turn in, Buff". She doesn't say anything, but she makes a small noise of agreement and slides her hands off my neck and down my chest before she turns to look back at the bar, where Andrew is sprawled over the bar like a toddler crashed out on the playroom floor after a serious sugar rush.

"We should take him up to his room," Buffy sighs.

Buffy takes Andrew by the shoulders, I take his feet and we carry him to the elevator. She almost drops him while digging his key out of his pocket, but we get him into bed just fine and he starts murmuring something about Tom Cruise, so we figure he'll be okay if we leave him alone. I set a glass of water on the nightstand and put the bathroom garbage next to his bed for him just in case.

"I'll put 20 bucks on disastrous natural gas bubble." I say to Buffy as we pass my door. We both know I'm going to walk her to her and Dawn's room.

"What?" She asks.

"The cover story on the national news explaining why Sunnydale's property values finally dropped so low they hit the negatives? I'm going to bet on natural gas."

"I'd lean toward something involving more fault lines and tectonic plates myself. But I don't have 20 bucks. Silly me I went off to battle the legions of hell without my wallet and now that's all just so much crater dust," Buffy says mirthlessly. She makes it two more steps before she starts to cry and part of me is almost relieved to see that she has enough emotion left in her to do it. I pull her against me and my relief picks up a tinge of terror when I realize that Buffy's whole body is shaking, like a kitten in a blizzard. I have one hand holding her tight against me and the other running carefully over her hair as I feel her tears sink through my shirt. And it's just too much. I start to cry too. But I feel like Buffy crying this way is just too private a thing to just be happening out in the hallway.

In my room I pour us both glasses of water, but by the time I've unwrapped the glasses, filled them and brought them out to where Buffy is perched on the side of my bed, just above where the comforter has been drawn back, we've both caught our breath and are back to crying full force. When she buries her face in my chest this time I know what will happen next. I'm not physic guy, but I'm surprised when she lifts her face up and gently kisses my neck. Then my cheek. Then finally my lips.

I kiss her back, I let her push me gently back onto the pillow, but then I stop. I taste tears. I don't know if they're hers or mine, and that's why I can't do it like this. Buffy doesn't say anything, she doesn't leave. She just sinks her head back down to my chest and lies there. I leave one arm on her back holding her. I've loved her since I met her, I've loved her for 7 years. She has finally kissed me, but I can't. I can't.

Anya and I were over, even though our "one last time sex" was "second to last time sex." But my precious girl had died today saving the world today. The most human thing she had ever done.

Buffy's still shaking, and I can't let her do this to me. I want so badly to let her find solace in me, but I can't. I can't let her because I can't let her keep kissing me when she's lost her home, her life, her everything. She's not THE Slayer anymore, and I can't take advantage of that. But I can't pretend to myself that I'm all chivalry either. I won't be the way she consoles herself for the loss of Spike. I won't distract her from the fact that she's close enough to find Angel, but knows she can't.

"I have to go check on Dawn," she whispers finally as she slowly lifts her body off of mine. I sit up as she walks toward the door. She turns back to me, "I'm sorry, Xander, I shouldn't have… Anya and… I'm sorry."

"It's fine. We all need… don't worry about it."

She takes a couple more steps toward the door. This time she half turns the handle before turning back again.

"Xander," She brushes a tear off her face, and looks shamefacedly at the wall rather than me "Can I just sleep here?"

There is only so much comfort I can deny that face. She goes to check on Dawn and I begin to undress. Then I realize that I no longer own pajamas, and I'm going to be in my burnt and bloodstained clothes for a while yet, which includes tonight. I pick a side of the bed and burrow under the covers. I hear the door open, the lights switch off. I feel her press against me again. And I let myself think about kissing her again, let myself believe that when I was kissing her, she was really kissing me back.

But then, in a tiny, quiet, half asleep voice she says "You are so warm."

And I resign myself to comforting her. We all need it.