Title: Lie to Her
Author: Schala (Schala4 at hotmail dot com)
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG
Spoilers: S1-S2
Warnings: slight implication of slash, blink and you'll miss it
Pairing: Xander/Jesse-ish, Buffy/Angel(us)
Archive: My site, my LJ, and ffnet. If for some reason you want this, just ask.
Disclaimer: Trust me, if Xander was mine, I'd be far too busy playing to write.
Summary: You already know how her story will end, because you've lived through it before.
Notes: I really have no idea where this came from so bare with me if it's a little weird. Beta'd by lj user garnigal, all other mistakes are my own. We had a bit of a conflict on whether to keep it 2nd person POV or change it to 1st, but I liked the storytelling feel of it this way, so I kept it like this. I may go back and change that in the future, though.

"You listen to me! Jesse is dead! You have to remember that when you see him, you're not looking at your friend. You're looking at the thing that killed him."

– Giles, Buffy, "The Harvest," BtVS

Imagine a time before you knew the things that go bump in the night were real. Imagine a time when the monsters under the bed were less scary than the monsters that slept in the bedroom next to yours. You had two friends back then. The first was a sweet, innocent girl who would cry over breaking a crayon. You wanted to be her knight in shining armor, to protect her from the world. So you let her believe she knew everything about you, that your parents were no worse than her neglectful ones, that you were her reliable, funny best friend.

The other, however, was your real best friend, the one around when you needed the knight in shining armor. He knew what home really meant for you, because he had a pair of monsters as well. When yours were too drunk to see you as anything other than a punching bag and his were too coked out to remember that kids needed things like food, you were there to share leftovers and bandages and comfort when you cried. Years later, when no one seemed to remember him but you, you'drealize that you had been in love with him. But back then all you knew was that he was your safe place, your real home.

One day a beautiful girl came into your life. Another little girl you wanted to love and protect. But this girl didn't need someone to fight her demons, she brought a whole new kind with her. A kind that had always been there, hiding in the shadows, but you had been blissfully unaware of. And suddenly, you didn't mind your monsters so much. Because as scary and hurtful as yours were, hers were so much worse. Because while yours could punch and kick and scream, hers could do something so much more painful.

Hers could make you into one of them.

That night, the monsters came and took him away. You tried to save him, but you were too late. The next time you saw him again, he was one of them, a monster. A monster that wore your best friend's face, but still a monster. That's what the girl told you, what the wise man told you, what you made yourself believe because they knew so much more about the monsters than you did. But mostly because you refused to believe that he would say those things to you; that he could possibly act like your monsters when he had always been the one protecting you from them. You made yourself believe it, because if it wasn't true, it meant that when he turned into dust that it was you who killed him, not the monsters.. You had killed your home.

Everyone seemed to forget him after that night, and after a while you stopped trying to talk about him. You couldn't blame the girl, she had known him for less than a day. But you couldn't stand the blank face that meant she didn't remember, or the hurt one when anyone talked about before she arrived. And, if you were feeling generous, you could blame your girlfriend's evasiveness on feeling guilty for treating him so badly. But you were sick of seeing the avoidance and pity in your friend's eyes, because it meant that she thought it was better to just forgot about him, to pretend that it had always been only you and your friend, and that you were wrong for not moving on.

You tried to win the girl's heart, but soon learned that she had already given it away. Once again, you had to play the reliable, funny best friend. And then, one night, you found out that the girl had given her heart to a monster. You knew what should have happened next because you had done it yourself. But the girl's monster was different, they told you, the girl's monster had a soul. You didn't understand how that made the monster better. Your monsters had souls too, but they were still monsters. But just like before, you did as you were told because the girl knew more about the monsters than you did. But you grew to hate the girl's monster, because by keeping the monster alive, it meant that it was better than him. And no matter what they said, that was something you'd never believe.

Finally, the time came when the girl's monster proved that you were right, when it lost the soul and showed that, inside, it was still just a monster. But they still did not kill it. The girl's monster killed the witch, tortured the wise man, threatened your friend and the girl; but it was still allowed to go free because it was the girl's monster. You tried to make them understand but the girl only saw a jealous boy who was happy he had an excuse to kill the monster he'd always hated. You didn't try to explain about him. No one even remembered him now except for you. So you let them think what they wanted about you, let them believe they knew everything about you.

Until they found the spell. A spell to give the monster back the soul. A spell that the monster had killed the witch for attempting. A spell to make everybody pretend that it hadn't spent months attempting to destroy the world and everyone in it. You tried to make them stop, but they didn't listen. But when she tried to cast the spell, your friend was hurt and you had had enough. You had failed to save him and you were failing to be the knight in shining armor for your friend and the girl.

So you told a lie. You didn't want the girl to be hurt, but you didn't want her to go through what you went through killing him. So you let her believe there was no other option. You let her believe that her monster with a soul and her monster without were two separate things. That the girl's monster wouldn't say those things to her that hurt her so much, that it couldn't possibly act like the other monsters she had brought with her. Because you never wanted her to feel what you knew it felt like to kill your home.

And if maybe a little part of you hated the girl for deciding that her monster was more worthy than him, well you certainly didn't let it make you happy that her monster met the same fate. And if it meant that maybe you helped save the world, well you'd pretend that was the reason you did it in the first place. And if you just wished that you could go back to the time before the girl made the things that go bump in the night real, back when you had two friends and a real home in him, well there really wasn't anything you could do about that.

"Willow. Uh, she told me to tell you..."
"Tell me what?"
"Kick his ass."
– Xander, Buffy, "Becoming pt2," BtVS