This was the toughest chapter to write, so my apologies if it's not very good.

As always, it's not mine. It's never mine.

I've gotten several confused reviews, so I am going to emphasize again that linear time is pretty much a no-show in this story. That means that the chapters are not in order, the Powers aren't necessarily dead yet, and the timing may not make much sense. If you need a good reference, look at the first episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. They spend two hours explaining this concept. If you're having trouble with this, I would recommend one of two options. You could stop reading or you could just accept the fact that the timing is off, trust that I realize that and it was intentional, and live with it.

Read on!

Xander was sitting alone in his room when the Fifth Power came in. Didn't knock. Didn't even have to open the door. This higher power thing was pretty cool. Just pop on in, and there you are.

Of course, he might have just been enjoying it since it was his only chance to be physical ever again.

The man he had come to see – Xander Harris – was someone he had never met. Didn't really matter, of course. They were the same. Or at least had been the same.

"You're Xander, right?" he asked the man slouched in the chair with a bottle of beer in his hand.

The man looked up to see his visitor. "Who are you?"

"Gunn," the Power replied, wondering if Angel had ever mentioned him. Xander squinted drunkenly at his visitor for a moment, then shrugged and handed over a bottle.

In the two weeks since the First was beaten in Sunnydale, Xander had spent more and more time drunk. Not that the Power could really blame him. When Fred died, the only thing that had stopped him from going out and getting himself really really drunk (or dead) was being tied to a hospital bed and guarded against further attack by Wesley.

Wesley had, luckily, been out getting drunk and was unable to finish what he'd started.

Gunn took a drink of the beer. Pretty bad beer, but he couldn't guess Xander was in any mood to be picky right now. Lucky for Xander, that was why he was there.

Xander spoke first. "I don't know who you are, but the name's familiar."

Gunn nodded. "Angel probably mentioned me. I worked for him in LA."

Xander scowled. "You know he was there?"

Gunn pretended to be taken aback by this, but he knows exactly what Xander is talking about. "What?"

"Yeah. He came to Sunnydale to help, but then he left. He should have stayed. If he had stayed, there would have been someone to help control the Ubervamps, and Anya..." he trailed off.

"Wouldn't have died." Gunn finished. Xander looked up from the bottom of the beer bottle he'd been contemplating. "You know, Xander, you're not the only one who's lost someone twice."

Xander looked at Gunn, and for a second they saw each other in each others' eyes. "But I could have done more to -"

"You couldn't leave Dawn. She and Andrew would both be dead. And Andrew is necessary."

The beer bottle Xander had been holding smashed into the wall directly next to Gunn's head. "Don't say that! You don't know – she should have lived, she deserved to live, it's not right, it's not fair..."

Gunn grabbed Xander by the shoulders. "That's right. She deserved to live, and Andrew didn't. And that's life, so that's who lived. Besides, there is someone who can honor her."

"Who?"

"You."

Hours later, Xander Harris had passed out on his bed. Gunn didn't know what he would remember of that night, but he knew that without this visit this night, Xander would never go to Africa, never defeat D'Hoffryn, and most importantly that the world would never survive the apocalypse.