Chapter 2

Stuckage

The moon is full as I lay on the grass patch that Giles' real estate agent hilariously called a lawn. The moths are going mad for the moon, zipping in circles and smashing into each other in their rush to get back where they began.

I sigh and dig my fingers into the cool, moist soil between the blades of grass. Stop this ride, somebody, I wanna get off now.

The kitchen light spills out through the door as Tara slips outside. She looks concerned and I take it in the steady stride that I somehow managed to set myself about this whole turn of events. They have been in there hours. I gaze back up at the moon and pat the turf next to me. The shy girl settles in.

"How you holding up?" She says.

"Oh, fine. It's nice here. Think I may just stay. Just have Giles, you know, cover me up with soil." I sigh. "Maybe a tree will grow from me. Think it will grow nuts?"

She smothers a chuckle with her hand, poor thing, she is trying her best. At least she came to check on me. She does seem nice.

"So I take it no luck with the spelly undooey?"

"I am sorry. It would help of we knew what caused it." She sighed. "This stuff is kinda complicated to figure out otherwise. I am sorry."

"Oh." I say and take in a deep breath. "Soooo Buffy here yet?"

"She called. Gringal demon." She said by way of explanation. "They sorta explode when you slay them." She says, wrinkling up her nose.

"I remember." I sigh. "Good times." A smile flutters briefly to her lips.

"Guess you are an old hand at this stuff?"

"A seasoned veteran. You can tell by my hardened, thousand yard stare." I say, two fingers jab towards my eyes then up and out towards the moon. "This too shall be yours, Tara. Oh yes. Have no fear." I look at her. "You sure you want this life?"

"Kinda goes with being… w...w..what I am." She says. A tuft of grass yanked up between her slender fingers. Slender and small, like mine. She is taller than me, bigger in all ways, I guess. I would dwarf her in my original form. "But I don't mind."

"So can I ask? Is Willow always that way with you?"

"She… well, she has a lot on her mind, I guess. I am not sure she… approves. Of m..me being part of, well… the group."

"Will's the best. We have been friends since forever. She is just going through some stuff. She will come around. Trust me. It's not you."

"Maybe." Tara smiles sadly and lays back. "It's funny," she says "when Buffy talked about you I was super tired and I must have misheard, I thought she was talking about her friend Sandra."

"Oh, the generous scoop of irony." I say.

"You don't look like a Sandra."

"Thanks Tara."

And we watch the moths do another lap of the moon.


Buffy's hair is damp from her shower and she can't stop laughing. And laughing. And… well… you get the idea. She barely crossed the threshold before being consumed by the fit. She apologises, somewhere in the howling, I think. Her legs have given way and her eyes are streaming and as much as I want to be angry at her, I can't quite manage it. Tara is kneeling next to the slumped Slayer supporting her convulsing body.

"Xandsagrrrrllaaaaah" she says and claps her weak hands together. "Xandsaweeegirrrrl-ammnmntawwwerthanher"

"She says your a girl." Tara translates helpfully. "And that she is taller than you." Wow. Tara speaks Buffy good.

"Sheeeesootiiiiiny" Buffy adds, snorting back tears. "Cannapattterr?"

"That's great, Buff. Way to be super supportive of your traumatised friend." I say with my weird assed voice. "And you may not pat me."

"Mmmmsssssssoooo...oh..oh..poorxaaaahahahaa"

"Just remember when I get whammied back that the natural order will once again place you wee-est of the wee."

It is some time before she stops.

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up fuzzball.


I snort myself awake with a mouthful of drool and black hair. Sunlight is streaking harshly through the curtains and it wants to kill me. This is how vampires feel, I am sure of it.

Okay, so I may have snuck some of Giles' scotch, and I may be paying for that right this moment, but it was medicinal, I swear. I don't remember when I passed out but it was at the table between the boring hopeless part involving books and the hopelessly boring part, also involving books. I am currently on the couch, with a pillow under my head and a blanket over my body. I take a peak.

"Everything still… er… as it were?" Giles voice comes from across the room. He is sat at the table sipping coffee.

"I swear I never thought I would be so disappointed to see breasts in all my life Giles." I groan and rub my stupid, teeny tiny face.

"Yes, well, I made you some breakfast. It should still be edible if you care to join me."

I do so, padding gracelessly over and slumping my best slump across from him. He is reading a newspaper, not a magical tome. He looks exhausted. The plate before me doesn't look too appealing. But my body wants what it wants. I pick up the least offensive morsel and take a bite.

Giles lowers his paper and gives me a look that says it all. I nod. Figures as much.

"Is there any hope at all?"

"Some." He says, a huge hand patting mine. "I left a message with a librarian I know who may have some leads on a certain journal of a…" he sighs and withdraws his hand. "Just… don't give up hope yet."

I nod. Giles is reading again. I can hear the clock ticking down the hall. Outside the birds are chirping like they do everyday. I finish chewing my mouthful and swallow. It isn't easy, but I get it down.

"Hey, Giles, I wanted to thank you." I mumble over a mouthful of bean soaked toast. He looks up from the paper with a quizzical look. I tug apart the toast with my stabby little fingers. My fingers. For the foreseeable future, I guess. "Look, I just… everything just has been so, so horrible and, well, I just... I just kept thinking, 'Giles will help'. 'Giles will help me', 'I just have to make it back to Gile's'."

He looks sadly at me.

I cough and quietly say "I don't, I mean, when something goes wrong in my life you are always here for me man. I noticed. Thank you."

Giles stern glare softens and he goes back to reading. "Plenty of coffee in the pot still Xander. And asprin in the med kit." He clears his throat and turns the page "For the hangover."

I grin sheepishly. Coffee and asprin does sound good.


I can't go home. It sinks in sometime around noon when I think about a change of clothes. I can't go home.

I can't explain this. Not to my folks. They don't know about magic or monsters or, well, let's face it, anything about me at all.

I can't go home.

And I am not sure if I want to laugh or cry. So I manage a god awful mix of both, you know, somewhere were Giles can't see me like this.

I can't go home and I own one pair of clothes. That don't fit. And are caked in and and blood and… well… blood… and I can't ever go home. Not until this spell or whatever is broken.

So I call Buffy.

"Mmmmelo" comes the voice.

"Buffy… I can't… I can't…"

"Mmmbuff it's for you." I hear the sound of the phone hit a pillow. A rustle and a groan.

"Hello?" Comes Buffy's unmistakable tired nasal voice, and a sound which I assume is her rubbing her face.

"I… I… can't…" I manage, the sobs taking apart my well prepared and thoroughly thought out sentence.

"Xander?" She says. "Jesus it's like 10 am."

"Can't go home. I can't... not like this. I can't go back." I manage, wiping back the snot. But in a manly, graceful way. "Got nothing...g...I can't".

"Oh." She says, soft and serious. "Oh. Hold on. Hold tight babe. I will be over. Just..."(a yawn) "just gimme a moment for my body to stop hating me okay?"

Buffy Summers. My hero.