Girls, Girls, Girls

Tabula Rasa

By Lori Bush

Disclaimer: The Buffy gang is property of Joss. 'Nuff said.

Rating: PG–13, maybe stronger, for language, mostly.

Pairing: B/X and A/X. I can't ignore the guy's very real feelings…

Spoilers: "The Gift," in a major, if you don't wanna know, please don't read this, way. I already spoiled it for one person who was trying to stay pure (I'm really sorry, really), and I don't want to blow it for anyone else.

Summary: Sixth season ideas and stories are like belly buttons. Pretty much everybody's got one. Here's mine.

Author's Notes: Are our stores like our children? If so, then we shouldn't have favorites. However, in the flurry of offspring that are the chapters of this story so far, I like this one the best. It was fun to write.

Dedicated to the harem, like usual.

~**~

~3~

~**~

Girls, Girls, Girls

~**~

When I got downstairs, Buffy was gone. Damn that girl! If she went to stake Spike, I'd never manage to make peace between her and Dawn. Should I go upstairs and tell Dawn I was leaving? How much lead-time did she have on me? Where…?

"You're back." Buffy came out of the kitchen carrying two steaming mugs. "Hot chocolate?"

I never stayed speechless for long. "Yeah. My favorite. How'd you know? You remembering?" A part of me just wanted Buffy Before back, so I could go on with life as it was, although that stubborn idiot that occupied large parts of my brain filled me with disappointment that I'd no longer be one of the most important people in her world if that happened.

"Just a guess," she said with a smile, "although I see it was a good one." She took a small sip from her own mug and sighed happily. Then her eyes bore down on me. "I heard some yelling. Everything alright, or does she hate me?"

I sat down on the couch, and Buffy sat right beside me. "She's scared and upset. I know Giles told you that just before you died, your Mom did, too. Dawn had just found out about her identity as the Key, and it was a lot for her to deal with. When you died, Spike was the only one who could get through to her for a while. They've always gotten along well, even when the rest of us hated him. The harder you try to separate them, the more she's gonna fight you on it." I almost went on to use the thing with her and Angel as an example, but she didn't remember, and I still wasn't ready to deal with telling her about him yet. Yeah, I'm a wimp.

"Were you always this smart?' she asked, that look in her eyes again. I hated that look. It was so much better to see in person than it had ever been in my dreams, and I knew it was all wrong. I turned my head away.

"Me? I'm an idiot. Trust me." I took a deep drink of my chocolate, discovering too late that it was still much too hot for that. Jumping up, I ran to the bathroom and spit the mouthful into the sink. Then I turned on the cold tap and stuck my mouth underneath, trying to cool the fire on my tongue. Finally, I felt a little better, and I looked up, water running down my chin and soaking the collar of my shirt, to see Buffy trying to hide the laughter that shone from her eyes. God, she was too beautiful. I gestured to myself. "See?" I said around my swollen tongue. "Idiot."

"I still don't believe you, although the visual was pretty convincing. All you really proved was that I put the chocolate in the microwave for too long." She stepped back inside my personal space, and wiped some water off my chin with her thumb. "It was sort of cute."

I got out of there as quickly as I could. I don't remember what I said.

Then I got home to Anya's warm welcome.

"Where the hell have you been for so long?" (I've been out much later before, with no phone call, and she's never been upset.)

"How'd you get all wet?" (I actually tried to begin explaining that, but she never gave me a chance.)

"Why do you smell like Buffy's perfume?" (I hadn't previously realized that Dawn had started wearing the same scent as her sister. And I doubt An would buy that, anyway, even though it is true.)

"Here!" (This was accompanied by an armload of sheets and blankets, and the sound of the bedroom door slamming and locking.)

Wonderful. I sighed and started making up the couch. After a moment, I went and knocked on the bedroom door. "An, I need…" The door opened and my pillow sailed out, hitting me squarely in the chest and sliding down my body to my feet. "Um, yeah. Thanks."

It doesn't much matter; I don't expect to sleep a lot tonight anyway.

~**~

I don't know if Anya and I've formally made up yet – there's been no sex involved, and I think that's a requirement – but she seems to be speaking to me again. I did manage to get across to her over breakfast this morning that last night was about Dawn, and the difficulties she's having with her sister's return. An mumbled something about having similar difficulties, but I had to ignore her, or I'd never get through the explanation. Just like the rest of us, An has a soft spot for Dawn, and I knew that would sway her. She kissed me on my way out the door to work, so I guess that's the down payment on the make-up sex later.

We've argued before. All couples do, I think. I mean, I know I have a temper, and An didn't get to be a Vengeance Demon by writing the best essay on the subject. So we've had some doozies. That also explains why I'm so sure about the procedure for making up. But this feels different – like it's an argument in chapters, and last night ended with a big "To Be Continued…" It worries me.

I like to think I've grown up a lot since Willow and I explored our passions in High School. I don't see myself sneaking kisses behind the bookshelves with Buffy like I did with Wills. What I have with Anya is different from what I had with Cordy, too. It's more. More mature, more serious. Long term. But I also admit to having feelings still for Buffy. Feelings that aren't right for a married, or soon-to-be married, man to be entertaining. They probably weren't right even when Buffy didn't feel that way about me. Now that she does, or at least, a version of her seems to, it's even worse.

See, I've seen a bad marriage, first-hand. Grew up dodging the fallout from one. I sort of was the fallout from one. Some of the things my mom said in her less-than-sober ramblings indicated that I was born to try and save their marriage. From the moment of my birth, I was a failure at my first task.

I didn't want a marriage like that. I didn't want to bring a kid into the world for no better reason than that. I know no couple is perfect, and that marriage takes work, but I didn't want to begin our life together with a shadow the size of Buffy hanging over us. There was no sense in making the already hard work of marriage even harder like that.

So I had to do something. And no matter what it ended up being, I was gonna hurt, and hurt someone else, too. I just had to decide who it had to be.

~**~

I can usually lose myself in my work. Carpentry is precise, and absorbing. You measure, you calculate, you measure some more – all before you ever cut anything. It takes your whole mind. Of all the jobs on the construction site, it's the one position that spawns the most architects, because of the similarities of the two jobs. Both require precision, craftsmanship, and an eye for detail. So I was doing pretty good, forgetting my confused and miserable love life, until Willow showed up.

"Harris!" Jerry yelled from the front. "You've got a visitor." When I waked by him, he winked at me. "Cute, too. I won't tell your girlfriend." The crew had seen Anya a few times – usually after I sailed out of the apartment without my lunchbox. Jerry's comment established the fact that it wasn't her. I was pretty surprised when I saw my oldest friend.

"Wills!" I hugged her, and she smiled the same way she had when we were five. "To what do I owe this honor?" I lost my smile. "Something wrong with Tara or another huge Big Bad?"

"Nonono," she sputtered, shaking her head vehemently. "No danger from the Land of the Creepies, and Tara's fine." She looked at me with those big green eyes of hers, and for a moment, I saw again within them the darkness she was fighting. She had no idea how much her use of Dark Majiks scared us all, especially Tara. Anyanka's existence had been directly due to a misuse of Dark Power, and I didn't want to lose my best friend to that sort of thing. We sat down together on a plastic-covered pile of bricks. "It's about Buffy."

Funny, before she said that, I always thought "We need to talk" was the scariest phrase in the English language. I was wrong. Although I guess what she said was a variation of that dreaded phrase. This was big enough to bring Willow to my job site – a first. It involved someone I'd always figured my sun rose and set around. And it was a subject I knew I couldn't currently speak intelligently about. On top of that, I'd always had trouble lying to Willow, although I could, and have done it before. But, then again, in order to lie, I'd have to know the truth, and I really wasn't sure I did.

I may have grunted, I'm not sure, but something encouraged her to continue. "She's really hung up on you," she went on, as my stomach sank to my ankles, "And while I know there was a time that would have thrilled you to death, I'm pretty sure you have your hands full now with Anya." Oh, yeah, Will, that's an understatement for the record books. "Anyway, I'm sure if she could just remember how things were before, this nonsense would all go away." Oh, you little redheaded confidence builder, you. Of course, Buffy liking me is nonsense. My vocal chords had abandoned me in horror, and I couldn't manage a response.

Having plunged the knife into my heart with the sweetest care and concern, my dear friend now smiled, grabbed the handle, and twisted. "I've called Angel, and he'll be here later. Maybe seeing him will snap her out of this." Now I think I know how a vampire feels – I'm pretty sure I didn't breathe for at least five minutes after Willow said that. And I know I went cold, in spite of the heat of the day.

Okay, so I'm a hypocrite. I was worrying about how to handle this thing with Buffy without hurting Anya any more, but still… It was going to be my choice. I was supposed to be the one to decide how to do this. I could've still chosen Buffy, even though I knew it meant heartbreak as soon as tall, dark and breathless showed his face. I was more than a little angry at myself that I've even considered choosing her after all she's put me through, while An has always been supportive and loving. Well, as soon as she figured out how to be – the fact she was going to, like, smite me in order to grant Cordelia's wish for vengeance was ancient history, really. At least, it was before we were dating.

But now, that choice was out of my hands. Even if Buffy didn't get her memory back, she was going to see Deadboy, and all thoughts of Xander Harris would flee her brain. She was just wired that way, and I'd always known it. I owed An a major apology for even thinking the way I'd been thinking. But I was going to spend a little time in mourning what might have been, first. Hey, at least I was wrong about one thing. I would end up being the only one who got hurt.

Some automatic response inside my body roped my vocal chords back into service, mumbled some kind of agreement and managed a goodbye hug to Willow, and I went back to work. But my mind wasn't there, and I was pretty relieved my boss wasn't either. So far, the only thing I figured could make my day worse was if I got fired.

Or, at least, that was what I thought before Anya showed up.

"Harris!" Jerry yelled about a half hour later, awaking me from my mental ranting and wailing. "Your girlfriend's here to see you." I walked back out to the same spot I'd been with Willow just recently. When I passed Jerry, he whispered, "I didn't tell her about the redhead. You owe me." Smartass.

Anya was sitting on the bricks, waiting for me. I stood this time – I couldn't afford to take a lot of time, and if I sat down, it might. She smiled brightly when she saw me. "Hi, sweetie," she greeted me.

I forced a similar expression. "Heya, An. What's up? You never come here to see me."

Anya hung her head. "I really feel bad about last night. I know you'd do anything for your friends, and you just wanted to make sure Dawn was okay. I overreacted, and I wanted to apologize." She stood up, running her hand over my chest suggestively. "I thought it might make your day a little brighter if you knew I planned to make it up to you tonight – in a really big way." Her voice had dropped into that sexy, husky range, and she was pressing her breasts against my chest. Before I knew what was happening, she'd grabbed the back of my head, and began doing an intense exploration of my molars with her tongue. Now, after two years of sleeping together, Anya knew my every button, and she was pushing most of them for all she was worth.

I forgot about my troubles with Buffy. I forgot Angel was on his way from L.A. I forgot I wanted to kill my childhood best friend, and that I'd seriously considered breaking the heart of the woman now kissing me. Hell, I probably didn't know my name, birth date or Social Security number at that point.

I was pressed against her tightly, my hands wandering to fun and familiar places. Her hands were journeying as well. Then I heard the catcalls from behind me. "Whoa – he's gonna get lucky right here!" "Get a room!" "Can I be next?"

I pushed away, and she even blushed. I think it was a sympathy blush, since I know I was beet red. "An," I gasped, "I can't be doing that at work!" I turned my body so my natural response wasn't silhouetted in profile to my coworkers, and I thought about cold, unsexy things.

"I just wanted to give you something to think about – for later." With that, she picked up her purse from the bricks and sashayed away, drawing a few more catcalls in her wake.

As if I didn't have enough to think about already.

Jerry didn't say anything when I walked back by, but his grin was ear to ear, and he slugged me on the arm.

I don't know how much time went by before Jerry summoned me again. This time, he came back to where I was working, and he was practically whispering. "Harris, man – there's another girl here to see you. Another blonde. A different blonde." He gave a nervous laugh. "What, you haven't got a brunette?"

I rolled my eyes, and went to the pile of bricks, where Buffy was pacing frantically. "Hi," I greeted her, a bit warily.

"I'm really sorry to come by your work, but I talked to Willow, and I think I upset her. She told me she used to like you, but I thought she was over it, what with her being gay and all. But when I told her how much I liked you – you do know I like you, I mean, I haven't really kept that a secret, have I?" She paused here, looking uncertain and a bit nervous. It's not a natural look for Buffy. I held onto my deadpan expression, in spite of the fireworks going off in my brain. Buffy just said she likes me! "Anyway, she got all flustered, and almost angry, and I just wanted to warn you, and…" She ran out of breath just as I took her by the arms.

"Buffy, calm down. You're babbling."

She started to cry, and what could I do? I pulled her to me, stroking her hair to calm her down. "I can't help it. I don't want her upset at me. You and Willow are the only friends I've got. I mean, there's Giles, but he's old and all, and Dawn and I are still figuring out how to be both friends and sisters. I don't know anybody else, and I don't want to lose her over my feelings for you." Hello, surreal.

"Willow's just worried that you're going to be upset at yourself if and when you get your memories back. I'm not your boyfriend, as much as…" I didn't need to finish that sentence. Not a good idea.

"And you've got Anya, I know. Willow and Anya are good friends, I'm sure, and she doesn't want to see her hurt." More proof Buffy didn't remember anything there. "But I don't think Anya's good enough for you. Don't tie yourself down to her before you know. Give me a chance."

"Buff – Willow has an idea she thinks will help you remember some of what you've left behind. We'll talk again later, after we see if it works, okay?" There was no way I was going to respond to anything she'd just said to me. I remember enough of my soldier training to know a minefield when I'm about to step into it, even if it's an emotional one. She nodded against my now-damp chest, and I patted her back a few more times. "I really have to get back to work now. You okay?" She nodded again, and then stood on her tiptoes and kissed me lightly on the lips. Pulling away, she smiled uncertainly, turned and left.

Jerry looked confused when I walked past him again. Welcome to the club, buddy. He did manage to spit out, just before I was out of hearing, "You are so lucky Carter isn't here today." Huh – I'd almost forgotten about my boss and my job.

I know I was of no earthly good after that, and probably wouldn't be for the rest of the day. So it didn't even surprise me when Jerry showed up again, a while later. "Your brunette is here," he said dully. I nodded and walked out to the bricks again.

"Hi, Cordy."

"That guy gave me the weirdest look when I asked for you. What a creep." Cordelia preened for a minute, then looked at me searchingly. "Shouldn't you be surprised to see me?" I shook my head slowly. "Oh, okay. Sorry to come by your work site, but Angel wanted me to catch you before you went home. He's at the mansion, and he wants to see you before he goes to see Buffy. Seems Willow said this had to do with you, and he wants to hear your story."

I managed a weak smile. "Tell him I'll come straight there after they fire me." She looked at me oddly, but I didn't bother to explain. "Oh, Cor – like the haircut."

She grinned, and although I thought I was beyond surprise at that point, I almost swallowed my tongue when she grabbed me in a rough hug. "Missed you, Xan. See you later." She left, and I headed back to the place where I wasn't actually working again. All along the way, guys were patting my back, murmuring to each other, or just staring in awe. When I passed Jerry, he looked at me, wide eyed.

"Harris?"

"Yeah?"

"I really need to borrow your aftershave."

~**~