Summary: On their way to The Well
Spoilers: Up through BtVS:Chosen and AtS:NFA
Rating: Minor language.
Disclaimer: Twentieth Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, and all other copyright holders, own the rights to their respective works and characters. I receive no compensation for this work, nor is there any intent to deprive the owners of their rightful due.
Acknowledgment: Many thanks to Theo for his views and insights and allowing me to bounce some ideas around. This story is much better for his help.
Part 4: At a Crossroads
"Teri, here's the address we'll be staying in Stow, and a local map." Giles handed a slip of paper with the address written in his neat script, and the map, to the dark-haired Welsh slayer who would be driving the other slayers this trip. Tarian glanced casually at the address and stuffed it into her back pocket before she opened the door to the small silver Vauxhall hatchback and carelessly threw the map inside.
"You're sure you'll have no trouble getting there?" Giles dubiously asked.
"It's not me you need t'be worrin' about, Mr. Giles," the young slayer scoffed. "It's your boy who's gonna be lost if he can't keep up in that piece of junk," Tarian answered in her thick accent, waving at Xander's truck sitting by the back of the house, across the crushed gravel driveway from them.
Giles looked in the direction Tarian indicated, seeing Cordelia waiting impatiently for a presently absent Xander. Cordelia waved when she saw Giles look over, her tense frown transforming into a bright wide smile to match the beautiful spring day it was becoming.
They both turned at a crashing sound that echoed up from the basement stairwell. Soon after, Xander trudged up the steps bearing the last armful of supplies and equipment from the basement labs. Without even a glance at Giles or the group of slayers he headed for the truck.
"I suppose one of us should go over and help him carry all that," Giles observed, making no move himself.
"No! Good to see him working his arse once in awhile," Tarian tartly replied.
"I like to see him work, too," chirped a grinning Carole, her tone conveying a much different reason for enjoying the view.
Tarian rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust. They had been fast friends from almost the moment Carole walked in the Council's doors, both sharing a wild and care-free enthusiasm for the slayage, but she would never, ever understand the young Canadian's attitude toward Xander.
Fulani, the third slayer in their group, began to head in Xander's direction but he reached the truck before she could get more than a few steps. She stopped uncertainly and then turned back to rejoin her fellow slayers. They watched as Xander unloaded the majority of equipment in the bed of the truck, placing the items carefully, as Cordelia approached him.
While they watched as he stowed the items, the slayers heard the beginnings of an argument between Xander and the new girl they'd been seeing around lately. Dozens of rumors had made the rounds of the Council house, the speculation and gossip rampant. Many of the slayers and watchers wondered if she were some special new slayer Harris had found on his recent trip to the Cotswolds. But no one was really certain for she was rarely around the house and even then almost always with Harris or sometimes Mr. Giles, and the Head Watcher was absolutely silent on the subject.
The few girls who had overheard her speak said she was an American but didn't think she was a slayer because none of them got the "vibe" off her they did with other slayers. Mostly, nobody really knew anything about the new girl except she was around Harris a lot.
Some slayers were getting resentful of her perceived aloofness and, if pressed on the subject, the way she monopolized Harris' time. A few of the more perceptive had noted interesting changes in Harris, first when she showed up and how he seemed to smile much more than usual--or at all, in fact--and then a only several days later when he was scowling a lot more than usual.
Shaking his head and turning his back on the arguing pair, Giles withdrew a small notebook from inside his jacket and set it down on the car's hood. After opening it he called over Zelinda, the eldest, but not most senior, slayer going. They quietly conferred over the checklists, slowly leafing through the pages one by one.
Carole and Tarian split their attention between the dull checkoffs and the more interesting escalating confrontation across the way. Fulani only payed attention to the fight, her dark face drawn into a worried frown, eyes getting big when she saw the new girl poke Xander in the chest rather sharply.
Giles looked up from his notes when Fulani tugged at his sleeve. "Mr. Giles, this girl, we have seen her. She is new. She is a slayer Mr. Harris found on his vacation?" Tarian snorted derisively upon hearing the title "Mr." attached to the name Harris and got lightly swatted on the back by Carole. "Mr Giles, please sir, we do something?" she asked, pointing.
Giles looked back in the direction the girl was gesturing, seeing Cordelia and Xander standing nose to nose. From the vituperative words that occasionally floated across when the light breezes blew their way he had already known the subject of their argument but had ignored it, reasonably confident of the outcome. However it appeared Fulani and possibly the others, with the notable exception of Tarian, were anxious.
"What exactly is the problem, Lani?" he inquired gently, making another attempt at drawing out the shy girl.
"Look how they fighting already! What if she hits? Mr. Harris will be hurt!"
Giles tried to give Fulani a confident smile. "Really, there's no need to worry, Lani. She's not a slayer, but in fact an old dear friend we haven't seen in a long time. Trust me, Xander is in no danger." He glanced over once more and pursed his lips. "Probably."
"But fighting!" Fulani persisted, stabbing her finger at the pair, who had now taken their fight over to the passenger door as Xander stashed the last of the equipment behind the seats.
"Yes." Giles agreed, "Yes, they always did have an, umm... interesting relationship. That's just how Cordelia and he usually are." He turned back to the anxious young slayer and put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle reassuring pat. "Really, Lani, it's quite alright. There is nothing to worry about, I assure you."
"Cordelia, is it?" asked Tarian, nodding approvingly. "A good Welsh name. And taking Harris down a notch or two. I like her!"
Though Fulani remained anxious despite Giles' assurances, the other girls were satisfied their trusted friend, guide and sometimes mentor, was in no danger. They continued to watch as Xander, in obvious frustration, finally pounded once on the vehicle's hood, the thump heard plainly across the way.
Xander abruptly spun about and stalked their way. Cordelia smirked at Xander's retreating back and followed behind him, but not before winking at Giles after Xander had turned. Giles smiled and returned the wink. When Xander looked back to see what Giles was winking at he saw only a serene Cordelia following close behind. His scowl deepened as he continued over.
"I don't need to ask what you two were arguing about," Giles informed them as the pair closed with the main group, "but can I also assume I don't need to ask the outcome?"
Xander, still fuming but maintaining a tight rein on his temper, glared at Cordelia. His shoulders dropped and he rolled his eye. "She's in."
Giles returned Xander's scowl with a sympathetic smile. "Xander, I understand your desire not to involve Cordelia, but I really do think it's all for the best that she come. And she's an adult and it really is her decision, not yours."
"And I really do think it's not a good idea." Xander sighed again, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. Cordelia smiled prettily, cutting him more than any gloating victorious smirk could have.
"Nonetheless, since she is coming, let's introduce her. First, everyone, as I'm sure you've all been wondering," Giles turned slightly to address the slayers to his left and right, "this is Cordelia, a friend of ours from Sunnydale. She went to high-school with Buffy and Xander, and though not a slayer herself, is a very experienced demon fighter. She comes to us after quite an interesting, umm... adventure, shall we say."
Cordelia was greeted by a mixed chorus of 'hello's and waves, and she gave her widest winning smile and returned a polite and cheerful 'Hi' to the other girls.
"And Cordelia, these are the slayers who will accompany us on our own adventure." Lifting his hand to indicate the girl just to his left, he said, "First, this is Tarian--"
"Just Teri," broke in the black-haired slayer.
"--Teri, from Wales. To her left is Zelinda, from Munich." indicating the tall woman on the other side of Tarian. Cordelia repeated her greetings to each in turn as they were introduced.
"Hello," replied Zelinda in flawless American-accented English, nodding her head slightly.
"On my right is Fulani, from the Natal." The tall Zulu merely ducked her head shyly but otherwise made no reply. "And this is Carole, visiting us from Cleveland."
"Hiya!" greeted the short redhead, bouncing on her toes. While bearing some vague physical resemblance to Willow, though not as thin, her readily apparent effusive gregarious nature belied further similarities. "I'm actually from Victoria, but I've spent most of my time at the Cleveland Center."
Before anyone could say anymore, Xander broke in impatiently. "Wonderful, we're all bestest pals. Can we go now?"
Rolling her eyes, Tarian leaned in toward Cordelia conspiratorially, "You and I have to talk. He could do with a hair pulled from his nose, I'm telling you." she said, nodding her head at Xander. To Cordelia's ears, listening to Tarian's version of English was like hearing words spoken through oatmeal. She could barely understand a word, and even then they didn't seem to make much sense. She settled for sagely nodding her head in false understanding.
Giles, ignoring Tarian's whispers behind him, answered Xander, "Very shortly, Xander. There are a few more things to go over. First, I've spoken with Willow. She'll be on tomorrow's flight and should arrive the day after. She'll be picked up at Heathrow and driven to Stow directly."
Looking up at the mention of the witch, Cordelia saw that Xander merely lifted a disinterested eyebrow.
Giles continued, "I've also taken the liberty of ringing Buffy as well. If necessary, she can join us on twelve hours notice.
And again Cordelia saw Xander express only faint interest. He was behaving as if the trio who she once swore couldn't be separated with a crowbar were no more than distant colleagues. Xander had hinted at some problems but she never expected to see such utter lack of interest or concern.
"You're set with the coven?" Xander asked Giles. "You'll meet us tomorrow?"
"Yes, Madame Winchester agreed to meet with me this evening at five." Giles looked down at his watch. "And you're right, I should be off now." He gathered up the few items he'd spread out across the Vauxhall's hood and tucked them away into his briefcase. "Alright Xander, drive safe, and I'll see you all tomorrow." Giles waved goodbye, turned and walked off to his own car.
Xander turned to Tarian, "Tarian, you've got the directions? You're good?"
"Oh yes, Mr. Harris." Tarian answered in a high-pitched mocking voice, imitating Fulani even as the African glared at her. Carole giggled while Zelinda ignored the antics of the younger girls.
Scowling at Tarian, Xander stepped over to Zelinda. He gently pulled her aside to discuss some matters with her for a few minutes, Cordelia watching with interest. Soon the slayers waved their goodbyes and piled into the little hatchback. Tarian whipped it about the driveway, spraying dirt and pebbles every which way, and tore off the Council grounds with a squeal and toot of the horn as she turned onto the road.
"Let's go," Xander commanded, saying nothing more. In a tense silence, Xander and Cordelia returned to his vehicle and he followed Tarian, though much more sedately.
---
Cordelia was finding the long trip to Stow-on-the-Wold at once interesting, boring, and very, very frustrating. She glumly stared out at the English countryside whizzing by, casually gazing at the towns and villages seen from the large highway and noting the similarities and differences from the dryer, more wide open southern California she was used to.
She had never felt so out of place before. Despite superficial similarities, the subtle and not so subtle differences in building styles and design, the look of the woodlands and landscaping; even differences in the mundane and prosaic such as a traffic signal, just the sheer foreignness of it all, emphasized a displaced feeling, a here-but-not-here sensation she had frequently experienced since arriving at Stonehenge.
The feeling occurred more often after hearing the news of her friend's fates and only gradually becoming less bothersome in the last day or two. At first she thought it was largely due to Xander's presence providing an anchor of familiarity, a callback to simpler and more understandable times. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder at the person sitting next to her she now wondered if he was actually the problem.
She twisted around slightly to get a better angle, inspecting his profile again. She noted for the hundredth time the physical changes, how he'd aged far more than the six years they had been apart. For the first time though, she discerned a certain firm set of his jaw and a dead-eyed focus he'd never possessed before.
And the physical differences, as great as they were, were overwhelmed by the deeper emotional changes. He had seemed so warm and happy only days ago, very much like the Xander she remembered.
That quickly changed ever since declaring her intention to go to The Well. She'd never known him to be so quiet, so tightly wrapped and under control when upset. The level of quiet concentration and anger he continually demonstrated was scary. He was almost a complete stranger, taciturn and morose, cold and distant. Though he was still unfailingly polite, there was now always a belligerent edge in his voice whenever he spoke to her. This was a side of him she had never known existed, or even could exist, before.
She had hoped the confrontation on the patio would settle the issue in her favor and was dismayed by how wrong she was. Except for the one blow-up just before leaving they had exchanged no more than a handful of words the whole day.
What had happened to him? she wondered. He had always been one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, to give voice to whatever he was feeling, a trait that could be irritating as hell but one she now thought of as endearing and wished to see again.
Initially she had been tolerant and even somewhat amused by his angry silence. Two hours into the trip the amusement had been replaced by annoyance, now turning to anger.
"Are you going to keep this up the entire trip?"
Slowly he twisted to face her, focusing his one eye on her, staying that way a moment before returning to pay attention to the road.
She exhaled a loud sigh of frustration.
"What?" he asked presently.
"Your Angel imitation. It's coming along very well. Needs a little less cold rage and a bit more stoic broodiness," she said. "Add some hair gel and you'll have it perfect." she added sarcastically, unwilling to keep any traces of bitterness from her voice.
"Angel!" he huffed loudly, but said no more.
She shrugged and looked away again, playing with a loose thread on the seat as she watched the smaller cars zipping by them in the fast lane.
"I'm not happy about this. You coming," she heard Xander say.
Cordelia responded without turning. "Gee, I hadn't noticed. Now ask me if I care, Xander," she snapped childishly. Dammit! she swore to herself. How was it that he so easily brought out the worst in her? This was not a time to let Xander drag her down.
"You're saying you don't care what I think?" he asked rhetorically. He snapped his fingers loudly. "Oh, wait! I know the answer to that one!"
She physically, forcibly shook off her frustration, swiveling around fully in the seat to face him directly. "No! Xander, dammit, I do care! That's the problem. But for days now you're acting like I'm just a helpless little girl, that I've got nothing to contribute, that I can't help! I do not deserve to be treated this way and I'm more than a little tired of it! You're acting like a jerk--no surprise--but I'd hoped it was just acting, because if this is the real you, well then..."
She threw up her hands, about to give up, then decided not to, determined to have her full say. "What happened to 'being there' for me, Xander?" she demanded, venting her frustrations. "Huh! Where are you now, Xander? Or were those just big words full of your hot air, Xander?" she spat out, sneering his name.
Xander winced at the final accusations, finally showing some emotion other than a cool tempered anger, her comments hitting home. But stiff-necked and scowling, working his jaw, he refused to respond.
With her frustrations out in the open she continued more gently, "When you told me that, it meant more to me than you can possibly imagine. Knowing that someone would help me through, it makes it easier t-to live again after... everything that's happened. But don't you understand?" she implored, "When you say those words, that you'll be there, it says more. It tells me..." she paused as she searched for the right word, unknowingly finding it in the problem they'd always had when they were still a couple. "It implies trust. That I should trust you. That I can trust you.
"And despite all of our history--or maybe because of it, I don't know--I want to, Xander, I really do," she pleaded with him. "But it's not a one-way street. It can't be. Don't you see that? For me to trust you, trust that you will be there, you have to trust me. It's got to be both of us or it's nothing but useless words and wasted breath. And if that's true, then that--" her voice cracked as it dropped to a whisper, "Then that's what really hurts."
She stared at him expectantly, waiting, hoping he would understand what she was saying, understand the risk she was taking allowing herself to trust him again as he wanted her to.
She sniffed once when he made no reply after long moments had passed. She fell back against the window, away from him, shaking her head in bitter disappointment, beginning to believe now this person beside her, the hard empty shell of a stranger, was the real Xander after all. Another soldier down. She closed her eyes tight and let her head bump against the window, trying not to think about losing yet another. A single tear traced down her cheek, unseen by Xander.
Xander shifted uncomfortably against the seatbelt, his hands convulsively gripping the wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. Trust. Of all the things Cordelia had said to him, that one word seemed to explode into every corner of his mind. It then bit down and grabbed hold of him, shaking him like a tree on a blustery day.
Of course he trusted her! How stupid of her to think otherwise, he thought. Even now, couldn't she understand he was doing his best to protect her, to keep an uncertain future from snatching her away again?
Then why did that word chip away at him like an ice-pick, unveiling a guilt he had unsuccessfully tried to bury and ignore for so long, eventually just learning to live with it and move on? Why did her words make him feel so guilty all over again?
He looked over to her, seeing her back to him, and he saw her shoulders rise and fall suddenly, hearing a wet shuddering breath escape her.
Until that moment Xander had never truly realized how fully she had trusted him when they were together, how much of herself she had put out there, exposing herself, risking everything she once thought important for something she believed would be better.
Right on the heels of that understanding came a profound and almost overwhelming shame. He also realized that at the same time she trusted him fully and completely with her heart he still had never really quite trusted her so entirely. He knew he had loved her, had shared dreams, fears and confidences with her that he never had with Anya, or even Willow. But he had not trusted her, at least not all the way, not like she had. There was always the tiniest, nagging doubts, believing she might leave him whenever it suited her, perhaps after one fight too many or if things just became too difficult for them.
God's below, no wonder she reacted as she had! What a true and total heel he'd been! he cursed himself. Even more than his cheating it was his self-righteous sanctimonious belief, that somehow he was the one who had been more committed to their relationship, that shamed him, that nearly overwhelmed him, pulling him under.
With old guilts surfaced and redoubled, it sickened him to comprehend just how wrong he'd been, knowing the hurt he'd inflicted was so much greater than he once thought. She, the shallow diva of high-school, had truly been the far better person.
Why hadn't he seen that? The evidence was all there! She had been the one to believe in him, to believe in and accept the weirdness of them and how oddly special they were together. It was she who had believed and trusted...as he had not.
He struggled to maintain control of himself and of the vehicle. But the twitching convulsions in his suddenly weakened arms still caused him to wobble in the lane, setting off a chorus of angry honks from the other drivers on the motorway.
Cordelia looked up, startled, when she felt the truck abruptly veer into the adjacent traffic. She looked over and saw a stricken and panicked look on Xander's face, his mouth working as he attempted to say something.
"Xander?--" she began uncertainly, reaching out to the dashboard to brace herself.
"I-I-" he croaked, "My God, Cordy! You're-I...My God!--"
"Xander, what--"
"No! You're right. You were always right! Jesus Christ, I was so stu--"
"Xan--"
"Cordy, you're so right. And, and...I-I'm sorry! Oh God, I am so sorry! I didn't understand. I'm sorry. God, what a jerk I was! I didn't understand!"
"It's okay, Xander," Cordelia hastily responded, not entirely certain what he was raving about but sensing it was the right thing to say to calm him down.
"NO!" he shouted. "Don't you understand? You're right!" Xander apologized again, "I'm sorry, and..."
"You what, Xander?"
"I do. I trust you. I do. I trust you. I believe you. You're right about everything!"
"You mean that? You're not just saying it?" she asked hopefully.
There was no question in his mind anymore, no more doubts. He trusted her unconditionally. But unable to speak anymore he just nodded his head minutely.
A watery smile emerged as Cordelia carefully brushed the edge of her hand across the dampness on her cheek. "Then let me help," she said, "The way you've helped me."
Confused, he swallowed convulsively, hardly believing her. "You-you mean that? After everything? After everything I've done?"
"Yes, even after everything you've done."
Xander felt uncertain and overwhelmed, but the crashing waves of shame and self-loathing began to slowly ebb as a sense of profound relief swept through him.
"But why? I mean, I don't understand." His brow knit together. "Why do you? Why would you! Why?"
"I'm not sure, Xander. I think it might be... I--" She sat back, looking down at her hands she had clasped together in her lap. "Let me ask you this. The other night you said you had loved me. Was that for real?"
After his experience with Anya and now this recent revelation, he understood love, the kind that lasts through adversity, is intimately entwined with trust. His epiphany moments ago had just revealed he was found wanting. But he also knew what he'd felt for her then was as close to that kind of love as he'd ever had, even with Anya. If only he'd been a better person, had a little time to mature, to understand his feelings about her, he thought he might have been able to avoid the worst mistakes, that he and Cordelia might have been able to forge something that could last.
"For the longest time I didn't know what I was feeling. I remember what it was like being with you. Then without. How it made me feel when you smiled at me for the first time in months at the prom. I know now I wasn't any good at showing you, trusting you the way I should have but yeah, yeah I was."
She paused before saying anything, giving him a small affectionate smile. "Then I think you've answered your own question."
Xander nodded his head slowly, considering the implications. "Wow!" he whispered after awhile.
"Yeah," she agreed, smile broadening, looking up at the highway ahead of them, fully aware they were really only halfway around the corner.
An exit sign came into view, providing a much needed distraction at that moment. "Hey, isn't that where Giles comes from?" Cordelia exclaimed.
---
Both were more exhausted than either would have thought possible. Xander would liked to have found a pub in town, to sit back and try and come to terms with his new-found understanding of past mistakes, but right now he just needed to get out as soon as possible. Breaking a short-standing rule of avoidance when traveling England's motorways he pulled into the Welcome Break service area adjacent to the Oxford exit. Cordelia tacitly agreed she could also use a break from the noise and confines of Xander's truck.
Looking around at the options presented to them neither were able to stomach the idea of Burger King or KFC, astonishing Cordelia. On the other hand, coffee and biscuits sounded perfect and they headed for Coffee Prima instead.
"What?" asked Cordelia when she noticed him smiling oddly while they waited in line to place their order.
"All the looks we're getting," he inclined his head at the bustle of noisy travelers all around. "We must be like 'Beauty and the Beast' come to life. You think if I growl I can scare the kids?" He leaned over and started making a face at one particularly obnoxious and noisy brat, who turned with a yip and buried his face in his mother's coat.
Cordelia yanked him back before the inattentive parent could see what had just frightened her child. "Behave yourself, Beast!" she scolded him playfully.
After placing their order and retrieving their drinks and a packet of biscuits, they took a booth toward the back and settled themselves in comfortably. Xander took a moment to lean back and close his eye, willing himself to relax and allow the enticing aromas of coffee and spices to waft over him. However, Xander didn't have much of a chance to relax.
"Will you tell me about Africa?" she asked after taking a sip from her steaming caffe latte, making a face at how oily and bitter it was.
He pushed back in his seat, inhaling a deep breath before exhaling an unrestrained blast. "Whoah! You couldn't ask me something easy? Sure, we've had our moment, and we're all with the trust now, but why not something easy like...like stopping Glory single-handed?
"I'd like to know," she answered, eyes wide and curious.
Looking at her, Xander saw no guile or judgment in Cordelia's eyes, only the concerned curiosity of a friend who wanted to know and to help. He absent-mindedly scratched lightly at one of the scars on his right arm as he tried to decide how to begin.
What could he say about Africa? There was no refuge in silence; he knew Cordelia wouldn't accept that, and she would be right not to, given what they'd just gone through. So this was it, he thought. If he expected her to trust him--and he did--then this was it.
However, he still had to overcome a great reluctance as he began to speak. "I spent over a year looking for slayers. Fulani was one of the last slayers I located, by the way." He spoke deliberately and with great care for each word as he watched himself trace an invisible outline of the continent on the table with his finger. "Sometimes it was easy. Mostly not so much."
Pausing, his mind focusing inward, Xander recalled images of Africa, wishing he could forget many. With a start, he took too large a sip from his cup, wincing when he burned his tongue, and began again.
"It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen, Africa. Landscapes you wouldn't believe. A primal wildness. Blistering suns and torrential rains. Sand and jungle and everything in between. Thundering herds you could hear an hour before you saw them. And such magnificent people you'll never find anywhere else."
He halted, still looking into the distance, a sad tiny smile turning up one corner of his mouth. She was about to prompt him when he continued, bringing his focus back.
"At the same time it's the most ugly place I've ever seen. There's so much anguish, so much unnecessary death and destruction. Demons that make the Sunnydale variety look like angry kittens, and some of them are as human as you or I."
His eye flicked over to her and then down to the slowly cooling coffee in his hands, watching the expanding reflections on the brown surface each time his hand shook. He frowned, then picked up the narrative in a lecturing tone, forcing the words past a growing constriction.
"You can't make Africa into what you want it to be. It forces you to adapt to it or you'll die. You learn to separate real threats from imagined. You learn to simplify your life, keep only what you need, care only about the things that really matter, that are really important."
"And what's that?" Cordelia asked softly, beginning to get a true understanding of how deeply Africa had affected him.
He looked straight at her, face grim, a dark intensity in his one-eyed gaze that drilled through her.
"Protect mine. Fuck everybody else!" Xander answered harshly.
She blinked, unprepared for the extreme desolate passion of his answer. Unable to hold his implacable stare, she was forced to look away. "That's-that's--" she stammered.
"--how you get from one day to the next," Xander finished for her, added nothing else.
Still unable to look him in the eye, she settled for watching his hands surrounding the coffee cup, enclosing it to capture all the radiating warmth, not wasting anything, she realized. She noticed the tremors causing his paper cup to rattle ever so slightly.
"What happened, Xander? This isn't you!"
It was several seconds before Xander responded. "It's what's left."
The point had finally been driven home that his really wasn't an act. He was not merely a scratched up, rumpled and irascible version of the boy she'd known. But she still clung to the belief there was more in him than that cold bare statement seemed to say. There had to be, or he was well and truly lost.
Tremulously she said, "I-I don't think I believe that."
His stare never wavered from her and he merely shrugged, as if the truth was self-evident no matter what she wanted to believe.
"What's happened to you!" Cordelia asked more strongly. "Please, Xander?"
He finally dropped his stare, freeing her of the tension that had pinned her.
"Sometime after I'd left Anya on our wedding day--you knew about that, right?
"Um, yeah?" she said, raising her cup before her, looking over the rim.
He looked down at the table, reached over with one hand to flick a biscuit crumb off, then shrugged once more.
"Afterward she said I was just a scared little boy. She was right. I had run. And after Sunnydale, well, I guess I just kept on going. Guess I was pretty good at it by then. Get as far, far away as I could. Just like a scared little boy."
"You're not a little boy. Even I can see that," she commented, surprising him with her conviction.
His lips twitched into a small smile, held a moment and then fell back. It's all about the trust, right? he reminded himself, heart suddenly hammering.
"I'm still scared, Cordelia!" he whispered. "I am so, so scared! Sometimes--most times--it's all I can do just to wake up and get out of bed."
The nightmares still happened. The worst were the short ones, where he was lying in bed and turn his head to see Anya next to him, lightly snoring, body cut in half. The image would shimmer, he'd open his eyes, and that side of the bed was as cold and empty as before.
There were variations. Often it was Buffy, body crushed and bleeding after the fall. Other times it was a black-haired and veiny Willow, lightening flashing from her eyes. Sometimes it was Cordelia, eyes dull and clouded, a knife sticking out of her stomach. Images of all the people he'd hurt or couldn't help. Fleeing California hadn't improved matters; every night in Africa was the same.
He desperately wanted to look at Cordelia but couldn't, his trust faltering, evaporating. He finally did glimpse at her, but kept his eye moving past, looking out the window, up at the cheap mass-produced oil painting over her head, or over at the line of people waiting--anywhere, anywhere but at her--and waited for the rejection and condemnation.
It never came. She was almost surprised by the sense of relief that flooded through her with his admission, seeing the carefully hidden pain and fear laid bare and visible. She realized it was because it proved to her once and for all he was not the cold hard shell she had been seeing the past few days. "Is that it?" Cordelia asked carefully.
He nodded his head.
"Good," she finally declared.
His brow crinkled and his mouth dropped open in astonishment and confusion. "Good! What's good? I just told you I'm a coward! That I can barely face each day! That sometimes I just never want to wake up. What's good about that?" he railed.
"Because you're wrong, that's what's good. You're not a coward, Xander! You never were."
He was surprised to hear warmth and understanding, to hear her stern voice filled with an acceptance he hadn't realized how badly he needed.
"You're as far from a coward as can possibly be. You can be pretty thick, stupid as a scarecrow, and even stubborn as a mule," she informed him as she leaned forward across the table, looking him right in the eye, taking his hand and not letting go. "but you were never a coward. So you're scared. That makes you human! That's what's good." Then she smiled impishly, "Trust me!"
She sat back, letting him go. "And I understand why you want to protect me. I get that now. And sometimes--not too often!--I'm going to want that help." She reached to put her hand back atop his. He automatically turned his hand to grasp hers and she returned the soft squeeze. "And maybe that's why we're here now, together."
"Are we?" he asked hopefully, looking down at her hand in his, feeling the strength underneath the soothing softness.
"Yes, Xander, we are," she answered, raising her eyebrow for emphasize.
He studied her exquisite features, softened with care and empathy, making her even more beautiful than he'd ever seen her before. He watched transfixed as an absolutely sincere smile slowly emerged. "You're amazing, you know that?"
"And hey look," she looked down at the imaginary watch on her wrist, "it only took you twenty-four years to figure that out!" Her gentle smile widened to its full confident brilliance. "But it's nice to hear you say it."
They sat quietly that way for several long seconds before he said, "I'm still not happy about you coming to the Well."
"Deal with it!" she commanded, laughing. He joined in after a moment, their laughter attracting the attention of everyone around them.
They soon settled down into a calm and easy stillness that enveloped and isolated them from the noisy crowd. To both it was a feeling reminiscent of those rare times when they would just simply be with each other; not making out, not fighting, not battling demons, but just together, being as much of themselves as they ever could be.
The moment was broken by the trill of Xander's cell phone. It was Tarian demanding to know where they were, why they were so late, and did he need her to find his keys for him, or show him how to fill the tank with petrol.
During Xander's conversation Cordelia finished off her drink and watched as he parried the slayer's teasing. He answered Tarian in the negative, explaining they had stopped for a break, would be in Stow within the hour, and to go ahead and eat. Or did she need him to show her how to use a fork? Tarian was too shocked by Xander's light humorous riposte to say anything before he added a cheerful "Goodbye, Teri" and hung up. He had never called her "Teri" before.
With a self-satisfied sigh he asked, "Time to go."
---
A dozen insistent irritating rings filled the dark room before the large powerful hand of the lone occupant closed over the old Western Electric handset, engulfing it. A baker's dozen and he lifted the handset to his ear. "Yeah?" he gruffly challenged the intruder.
"It's me," the tinny voice replied, severely unimpressed.
He instantly recognized the voice of his caller and it surprised him more than he thought capable. Mildly stunned, he paused to consider a multitude of answers. Unable to summon anything appropriate for a moment like this, he settled for a non-committal banality. "Been awhile. Didn't think I'd hear from you again."
"If it's any consolation, I never thought you would either. But something's up, bucko. Bigger than any of our petty little problems." "Really?" he asked doubtfully, "And what would that be?"
"Consequences."
His eyes squinted in confusion, not understanding what his long-ago friend was talking about. "Consequences? What consequences?" he dumbly repeated, peering up at the sparkling lights of the nighttime cityscape filtering through the curtained window.
"The not nice deadly kind, my friend. End-of-the-World as we know it. Your basic source material for overdone Cecil B. DeMille's. The proverbial hell at the end of the road of good intentions."
"I-I'm not...," he began, turning away from the window, "I'm not a part of that. Not anymore." He shut his eyes, raising his free hand to cover them, suddenly very tired. "Call the Council, they can deal with it."
"In a way I already have. Or they've been in touch with me would be a more accurate way of putting it. Faith is here."
The hand dropped away as his eyes snapped open. "Faith's in Vegas? What's she doing there?"
"Blowing off some steam, losing a ton of money, having a ton o' fun. The girl can par-tay, my man." "Yeah, she's an animal," he answered sarcastically,
"And she sang."
"So again, what's that got to do with me?"
"You've been sitting on your sweet candy-cane ass ever since Buffy and friends pulled it from the inferno. Read some interesting things off her. You left quite a mess. Stuff even I wasn't aware of."
"What are you talking about?" he asked warily.
"Not for me to tell. It's her story."
"What does she know? What did you tell her?"
"I told her everything. She's on her way to get you."
"Here? Get me? For God's sake, why!" he shouted into the phone, showing the first signs of real emotion. "I told you, I'm out of the game. I signed it all away. I've lost everybody, everything I ever cared about. A great big cosmic push. Which was about as good as I hoped for. I'm done now!"
"Wrong, amigo. She's coming to get you. And you're going to Merrie old England."
The wind was knocked from his sails. "England?" he asked in a small voice. He dropped heavily into the reading chair beside the phone.
"Yepper-doodles," the caller answered with false cheer.
"Where, precisely?" he asked, squinting suspiciously.
"The Deeper Well, more precisely."
Even though he had been perfectly comfortable in the cool room before the call, he began to shiver uncontrollably. He hunched over, head bowed down under the weight of his choices. "Th-The Well?"
"You've got to help make things right again. It is your fault, after all."
"My fault? H-H-How... ?" he attempted to put an indignant tone into his voice, but it lacked the conviction of righteousness.
"Drogyn, for starters."
His blood ran colder upon hearing the name spoken aloud. "That--It was... It was necessary. There was no other way," he pleaded. "He knew that. He understood."
"Did he?
"He must have!" insistent.
His caller sniffed. "Doesn't matter. Faith's on her way. Expect her in a few hours."
He struggled for an excuse, a way out, any way to avoid going back, getting involved again. "How am I supposed to get there? I don't have the plane anymore," he argued lamely.
"Faith says there's a way."
"There is, huh?" he asked weakly.
"What she says."
"And that's it? I don't get a choice in the matter?"
The crackling reply was final, sad and wistful, the echo of a chance to do one last favor for someone his caller had once called friend. "No. You really don't." The line clicked dead.
He held the phone close before him, examining it before slamming it down hard enough to crack the thick casing. Hollow fury built up inside him as looked at the smashed instrument on the side table.
Fight the good fight, right? Fine sounding words, he thought. Had it really been worth it? Did he really accomplish what he set to do when the dust had finally washed away? He had started a battle he thought he might win but, except for a brief respite, nobody really seemed to notice he had. The war picked right up again, the lives and deeds of men, good and bad, went on as if nothing happened.
Fight the good fight. It made him want to throw up. He had been so glib and self-assured when he mouthed that to everybody. The same everybody, the ones he knew, loved, or ever cared about, who had died or abandoned him somewhere along the line. Some with very good reason, he could admit, still looking at the ruined phone.
And now, though the world had taken everything away from him in what he had hoped was its final demands for justice, it apparently was still not enough. It would never be enough! he raged. "Shit!" he roared at the empty room. He watched as a small piece of the phone fell to the floor.
He heaved a weary sigh, for the body remembers and some habits never die. Sighing again, resigned to the fact it would be pointless if Faith arrived and he didn't want to leave, he decided to make himself ready to go as soon as she showed up.
Rising slowly, he shuffled over to the closet, pulled open the door and flipped some cardboard boxes out of the way. Their contents spilled haphazardly on the cedar floor but he made no effort to clean up the mess. Eventually he found a battered leather duffel and returned with it to the sitting area. He opened some drawers and tossed in a small collection of clothes. He next checked the coolers and filled two thermos bottles from the bags hanging in the room's mini-fridge. Packing everything down, he zipped up all the pockets, turned, sat and quietly waited for Faith.
---
"An interesting group," Cordelia commented as they walked outside the service area. "All those slayers." She grew thoughtful, "Belinda seems kinda ancient."
"ZE-linda," Xander corrected her, squinting in the afternoon sun, "and she likes 'Linda'. And I'd hardly call twenty-eight ancient. That's just a few short years away for you and me."
"I didn't hear that," Cordelia airily replied in a sing-song voice, brushing aside the words with a quick flip of her hand.
"And twenty-eight is almost thirty," he added dryly.
"Not listening!" covering her ears.
"Sometimes I feel almost ready to collect Social Security."
"Great! You spent days not talking to me, and now I can't get you to shut up? I can't win!"
He opened the passenger door for her, smirking as she shook her head at her bad fortune. Getting in himself, Xander dug out his copy of the inn's address and handed it to Cordelia. Then he reached across to the glove compartment and pulled out his AA map of Gloucestershire. He unfolded the map, turning it around once to get oriented right and handed it to her, "You're navigator. We're here, just off the M40," he pointed, "and we want to be there," tapping the map at Stow-on-the-Wold.
"Do I look like Magellan?"
He pulled back and squinted, lifting his hands to frame his view of her with the thumb and forefinger of each hand. "Hmm...I have to say, from this angle there does seem to be a certain resemblance." He glanced behind him and didn't see her stick her tongue out at him.
She frowned slightly at the unexpected duties but gamely looked about and then at the unfolded map. "I thought you've been to The Well already," she commented as she looked up from the map to the exits and ramps around them, "why do you need me to navigate?"
"I have, but I didn't stay in Stow and I didn't come from this direction," he answered as he drove slowly toward the service area exit, stopping to let some pedestrians by. He gave them a friendly wave while toying with the idea of gunning the engine as they passed in front.
She remained silent while figuring out the route to Stow-on-the-Wold as he pulled out of the service area.
"Since you're feeling so gabby now, why don't you give me a quick rundown on everyone."
"Sure. Who first? And which way?"
"Linda. And according to this it looks like we first want, umm, A40 and take that around Oxford?" she half asked, half stated.
"Yeah, sounds about right," he answered, checking the sign postings. "Okay, Linda then. She's a cop from Munich and she'll be returning end of the year. At twenty-eight I think she's the oldest slayer there is, so I guess that does make her kind of ancient in slayer years. Most of the slayers Willow created are between fourteen and seventeen, but not all," he explained as he started on the route past the storied ivory-tower town.
Even from a distance, and even as jaded as she was, Cordelia still gaped at the distant university buildings visible above the trees and smaller building, with spires that pricked the clear blue sky like they would snag a passing cotton-ball cloud. She nodded her head or made little noises to show she was listening as Xander rambled on, but most of her attention was captivated by the passing town. "You sure don't see that in California."
"No, you really don't." Xander agreed as he peered in the direction she was looking.
She glanced down at the map again. "It looks like a few more intersections to go through, but stay on 40 for now."
"And the spell seems to be opened-ended. Girls are still turning into slayers as "their time" comes, which is usually between those ages. But we got a few at either extreme. For the older ones it's usually not too bad. They tend to deal with it better, the flip side being they already have a real life that can be completely incompatible with being a slayer.
"On the other hand, for the youngest ones--I think the youngest is eight or nine, in China somewhere--that's just nothing but a real sucky situation. I mean, they're just little kids! They don't know what's going on. They're simply not ready, emotionally or physically, to fight demons, yet they have the strength to put some serious hurt on even a large adult if they have a tantrum."
"What do you do?" she asked in obvious concern, remembering what she heard about Kendra's upbringing. "Do you take them away from their families?".
"God, no!" he exclaimed, genuinely shocked. "We're not that council anymore, Cordy!"
"Well?"
"We inform the parents so they know what's going on--and believe me, that does not usually go down well--and then we leave them alone. Keep an eye on them. We have a slayer, two if possible, and a watcher nearby to protect them. Cross our fingers. Hope for the best. So far we've been lucky and none of the really young ones has been hurt. But it's only a matter of time before our luck runs out, and no, I don't know what we're going to do about it."
Cordelia murmured a sympathetic response. Finally by Oxford she tried to verify their location against the map. Frowning as she twisted the map about, she asked, "We're still on A40?"
"Yup"
"Okay, stay on this through the next circle thing, and then we want 44."
"Roundabout."
"What?"
"They're called roundabouts. Vile, evil...vile roundabouts!" he said with passion, shuddering in an exaggerated fashion.
"Whatever. It's goes in a circle. Circle thing."
"Anyways, like I was saying, Linda being a cop is perfect. She's actually one of the most junior slayers despite her age, but she's also one of the best and steadiest. Never loses her cool. Always calm, poised, careful. Thinks before she leaps. Not the very best fighter, that nod goes to Lani, but she's the one you want watching your back if you're in a real tough spot."
They entered another roundabout and Xander practically jumped through his seat belt when Cordelia shouted, "44! 44! That way," she pointed wildly at the signpost for the missed turn. "Pay attention, Xander!" she scolded him.
"Hey! You wanna drive!" he shot back hotly, circling around once more to reach the desired road again. She immediately shook her head. "We just keep going around till we see it again." He soon cut over onto A44 to demonstrate his point, shortly circling again to stay on their route.
The next time he glanced over at her, Cordelia looked a bit more pale and dizzy than before the rapid-fire sequence of roundabouts. When she felt she had a reasonable chance of responding only with words she agreed, "You're right. Evil roundabouts." Cordelia leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. She took a couple of soothing breaths then opened one eye, gave the map a baleful glare, and closed it again and waited a few minutes.
"So. You and Linda?"
"Me and Linda what?"
"Are you... watching her back?" she inclined her head significantly.
"Me and Linda!" he looked incredulously at Cordelia, pausing a moment to see if she was being serious. "What? No! We get along, yes. Friends even. But there's no me and Linda."
"Uh huh."
"There isn't!"
"Right."
"Trust me."
"Sure."
"Besides," he snorted, "she's ancient."
"Hah! Ancient!" she crowed.
Xander grinned to acknowledge her victory.
"What about Teri, she doesn't seem to like you very much." Cordelia smirked.
"Yeah, well, not all of us are perfect." He sighed. "I'm not a slayer, I'm not a watcher, I show up from out of the cold on Giles' doorstep and I get all kinds of privileges she thinks I haven't quite earned yet. She really doesn't like me. But that's okay, I don't like her much either. Don't get me wrong," he quickly added, "she's a good slayer, and the most senior currently at Sax. She's kinda like a Faith junior: undisciplined, likes to mouth off, a wildcat of a fighter, but she's good, she's real good. We may not like each other, but we can work together if we have to--just as long as don't make a habit of it.
"Hmpf" she replied. "What about Fulani?"
"Fulani, yes-s-s. Don't let her shyness fool you. She fights with an unbelievable rage. With good reason." He stopped speaking as his features sagged into a sorrowful expression. Cordelia nudged him with her knee. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Her entire family and village were wiped out by vampires before I could get to her."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I did--"
He shook his head sharply to stop her, "Don't worry about it! You couldn't know. She was a mess for awhile, but having something to work out her rage on, and having all the other slayers and watchers with her, has been a big help. She's really doing well, all things considered."
Cordelia nodded her head, suspecting Xander was a bigger part of her recovery than he would admit to. To distract herself she tried to figure out if the roundabouts could be avoided. She grunted when she saw it was not possible. "Stay on 44 for awhile," she informed him before gladly pushing the map away to pay more attention to the countryside they were passing through.
The road twisted and snaked about as they made their way into the Cotswolds. They rounded low rolling hills and crossed stream valleys dotted with woodlands of silvery beech, gnarled oak and ash. They drove by farm fields criss-crossed with low walls of yellow limestone and passed through hamlets and villages built of the same stone. Cordelia marveled each time they topped a hill and she could see another towering church steeple visible over the next. "It's really pretty here," Cordelia admitted after awhile.
"Sure is," he readily agreed. "This area, the Cotswolds, is really nice. I understand why Giles always liked it so much. If we didn't have more pressing matters I feel like I could just wile away the hours driving around these parts."
They easily navigated the next series of roundabouts and intersections as Xander stayed on the directed route and continued his rundown of the slayers.
"Carole is the big unknown. She's the most junior slayer in the bunch, still all little-girl excited, thinks it's all a cool deal. She's best friends with Teri, but we tend to keep her paired up with Linda and that's working pretty well."
"Smart." Cordelia gathered up the map again. "Let's see, now we follow 44 through..." she squinted at the map, not sure she was reading it right, "Chipping Norton? Then we find, umm, 436 and go left. Chipping Norton?" With a perplexed expression she looked up at him. "What kind of name is that? Or," peering down again, "Moreton-in-marsh. Yeah, like I'd want to be neighbors with Shrek. And Slaughters! Ugh! What is with these people!" she exclaimed, shaking the map at him.
"They're English?" he shrugged.
Cordelia exhaled a very unlady-like snort. "It looks like 436 takes us right into town."
The sun was just beginning to set by the time Xander and Cordelia made the final turn and climbed the tall hill to enter the crossroads town situated at the very top, an hour behind the slayers.
---
The next evening, Giles having rejoined them earlier in the day, the group was now too large to fit around one table for dinner. They split up, with the slayers around one table and the ex-Scoobies around another.
Unlike the boisterous slayers, Tarian and Carole naturally being the loudest, but occasional load barks coming from Linda and Lani as well, Xander, Cordelia and Giles were speaking in low tones.
"There's something I'm not getting," Cordelia spoke up during dessert.
"And what would that be, Cordelia? You've been in all the meetings. We've shared everything we know. What did we leave out?"
"It's not something you didn't tell me. I think it's something you guys have missed altogether."
She was met with skeptical looks and she took this as an invitation to continue. "So you think you've got this all figured out, right? Find the path, follow it to the ritual at end and you're all set?"
"Yeah, pretty much," answered Xander, shoveling more pudding into his mouth.
"Haven't you missed the biggest piece!"
"Huh? We've checked everything. A dozen people are still looking into it. What could we have missed?" demanded Xander.
Giles made a shushing motion with his hand. "Please, Cordelia, what is it?"
"Thank you," she said to Giles, giving Xander a cross look. "This ritual we're going to do will make a new guardian, right?"
"Yes, hopefully." "Yeah." The two men answered simultaneously
"Okay," she purred, having set them up. "Then who is it?"
"Who is what?" asked Xander, but Giles sat back with a thoughtful expression which rapidly turned to a pained one.
"Who's the new guardian? You, Giles? Xander?" she pointed her spoon at each in turn. "One of the slayers?" she asked, hooking her thumb to indicate the next table over.
Neither Xander or Giles had an answer.
"Figures!" Cordelia huffed, returning to finish her desert.
---
Cordelia cocked her head first one way, thoughtfully considering the setting before her, then tilted her head the other to get a slightly different angle. "That's it?" she finally asked, incredulous.
The 'it' was the entrance to The Deeper Well, a midnight shadow on the trunk of a very large, very leafy, very gnarly old oak tree nestled in among the surrounding beech and maple. It was the kind of tree perfect for having picnic lunches under, but otherwise it was just one tree among thousands of others in this wood.
"Somehow I thought it would be more foreboding. I mean, it's a Wellness thing, right, capital W?"
"You were expecting a cave? Perhaps guarded by a militant rabbit?" Giles replied sardonically, the hint of a smile visible.
"Well..."
"That would actually be the Cave of Lost Echos, over in Northumberland," he primly informed her.
Xander's head snapped around. "There really is such a thing?" he asked, surprised.
"Oh, yes!" Giles turned to answer him with a straight face. "Well, there's no angry hare anymore," he added, "but there used to be. And he really wasn't all that vicious as just rather tedious and annoying."
He got two goggled looks from his younger companions. "What? You didn't think Gilliam was actually human, did you?"
"Well..." Xander started, then shook himself off. Time to get moving, he decided, donning his command hat.
The group strode up to the tree and Xander turned to face them all, sharply cutting off the chattering. "Okay, here's how it goes. Remember, this is a look-see only, there's still a few things we need to work out," casting a glance at Cordelia. "We find the beginning of the path again, make sure it's good, and follow it as far as we can today. Linda and Carole will take point, followed by myself. Giles and Cordy next, You," pointing to Teri, "and Lani will take up the rear."
Cordelia noticed even Teri shut up and listened carefully when Xander began speaking. If he really ever was as scared as he said he was then he must have done a good job of hiding it from the slayers he worked with, she figured.
"Last time I was here with Erin and Maria there weren't any problems. I don't expect any now, but we go in ready. Everyone packing?" This was mostly asked of Giles and Cordelia, since the slayers already had their weapons out and visible, each carrying a mixed assortment of sword, knife, stake or cross-bow. Xander himself was carrying a crossbow and shotgun. "Eyes always open and moving, stay quiet and stay out of each others' way. Don't get separated. I repeat, do NOT get separated! Any questions?"
"Yeah. Why do we have to carry the packs? They're the ones with the super-strength," complained Cordelia, waving at the slayers.
"They need to be ready for anything," explained Xander, "Packs would slow them down and get in the way. So we're the pack animals. Now if you don't want to carry we can take you back to the Inn...?" he asked with eyebrow raised, sounding a hopeful note.
She snorted derisively and gave a dismissive wave. "Fat chance. Lead on, jackass."
A horrified look crossed Lani's face and Carole and Tarian snickered. Linda ignored them and started toward the Well. Flicking on their electric torches the seven of them entered The Deeper Well.
---
AN: I look back at some of what I wrote above, particularly the X/C scenes in the car and at the rest area, and just shudder at how over-the-top they are. But try as I might that's just the way they want to be written, so I'll learn to live with that. I hope you can too.
