Everything is different lately.
Or maybe it's just me.
I can feel my body's energy now. The horrible explosive power that it's capable of. It churns like electricity in my veins. I think that it's made me jumpy because the last few days I've been really, really paranoid. I'm afraid that one of my friends was just going to look at me and know. Like 'demon' would magically appear to be stamped on my forehead. I want them to know, and I don't want them to know. I have no idea what is going on.
My social life has changed slightly.
I had a date the other day.
Yes, that's right.
I had a date.
I was in a bookstore when this cute girl who worked there asked if I needed any help. I told her I didn't but she didn't walk away. She just kind of stood there and watched me thumb through a book I had no intention of buying.
"You have an interesting aura," she told me.
I think I laughed because she smiled at me. I wondered what she would have thought if she saw that I literally could make my body glow. I bet she would have ran screaming for the hills. I pretended to look at the book for another minute and she said that she was getting off of work soon, and would I want join her for some coffee? I said sure. I still don't know what possessed me to do that.
We had a nice enough time. Chit chatted about things that never really mattered, talked a little bit about books, though my knowledge of them only ranged in the "older than you, scary, and incredibly boring" category. After we were done she said that she kind of liked me and wouldn't object to seeing me again. I said that I would like that.
I had no intention of ever seeing her again, but it was nice to spend a little time with someone who knew absolutely nothing about me.
When I told Willow about it later, she told me that girls haven't always been blind to my subtle good looks. She said that it was probably because of lately I've been more laid-back, which I attribute to having too much on my mind to make any attempts at looking for girls and ending up looking like a dork half the time. She also said that disappearing for a month was long enough in this town for people to forget about you. Oh how I wished that was true. She then said something about how maybe I'd changed in a few people's eyes.
I almost make a lame joke about how I had changed, but wisely kept my mouth shut.
Small side note on the changing thing.
I was really paranoid the first couple of days when I came back home. Like Buffy and everyone would immediately be able to tell that I had *changed* or something. Well, then again, "changed" would mean that me being half-demon happened only in the last month, when the truth is, this all happened seventeen years ago and I just now found out about it. I think I should rephrase here for a second. I was really freaked at the prospect that the Scooby gang would look at me for one second and would instantly see with their special powers of deduction the truth that had been bestowed upon their old friend Xander. That all it would take would be one glance at me from Oz and his nose would twitch and smell the demon on me. Or for Buffy to say, "You seem kind of... different."
Damn, I sound like a thirteen-year-old girl going through puberty.
"Do I look different to you? Have I changed at all?"
They couldn't tell a damn thing.
I was glad and mad about it all at the same time.
***
When I'm at home I *know* everything is different.
I'm the only who even lives here anymore.
My mom is off god knows where, and my father stayed behind in Wyoming.
Speaking of my father, he calls once a week for status reports on the slayer. The conversation is usually quick and painless. I usually give him a load of bogus information, because lately I've been trying not to pay that much attention to her. Just so I didn't have to make up too much false info. I'm not very good with details. He asks me if the plan is working, and half the time I forget what plan he's talking about. I tell him yes. We hang up.
The house is dark and quiet without the loud drunken fights of my family. In a small scary way I almost miss it, but I really do prefer the silence. I like the quiet. I never play the stereo or turn the TV up. If I want noise I'll go to the Bronze, or hang out with my friends. I never turn on a light or draw a shade open unless I really have to. Which, rarely, I do. I stumble around in the darkness to get to the bathroom for midnight release, bumping into shadowed objects with my legs, and stubbing my toes on countless bits of furniture. It starts to hurt after the first five times but I refuse to flip any switches along the way.
Sound and light just seem to remind mind me how empty the house really is when there's no one else here to utilize it.
I can sit here in the dark and quiet as long as I want and pretend nothing is wrong. But I know that soon I'll have to make a choice about some things. About who I really am. About whom I'll stand by when the time comes. But for now I'll just sit here.
Alexander LaVelle Harris.
This is your life.
Are we having fun yet?
***
I stare in the mirror one morning and hardly recognize the person staring back at me.
I think of all my friends.
They are the lucky ones.
Sure, they may fight evil more than they sleep. They may risk their lives day in and day out. That may not seem so lucky to casual observer, but that's not what I'm talking about. Each one of them knows who they are. They know what side they fight on. They know where they stand. Buffy was the slayer. Giles was the watcher. Willow was the brains. Amy was the heart. Cordy was the feistiness. Oz was, well Oz. But at least he knew who that was.
Me?
I am Xander Harris.
That is all I know.
Whatever that means.
It's still summertime so I don't have to go to school. Most of the time I'm grateful for that. I don't have to sit through some boring class when my mind is nowhere near the subjects I'm supposed to be taught. I guess that now I really can say that I don't need anything they teach me in High School. Why do I need to know the square route of 642 when I'm supposed to burn the Earth to ashes? But sometime I'd like a reason more than total boredom to escape my house. Hanging out with my friends can sometimes be to nerve racking.
I look away from the mirror and I decide to go to the library and hang out with my friends anyway. But only because I really want a distraction.
***
It was Buffy who finally noticed a small difference in my character. We were having lunch one day at a small Cafe next to the movie theatre. Willow, Oz, Cordy, and Amy were with us, but they left to go pursue some fun in the remaining sunlit hours and we were all that was left behind. I don't know what it was I said or did, but she saw something wrong. She figured it was something human, something that could be fixed.
I lied straight to her face and told her it was nothing and munched on the rest of my chicken sandwich.
She didn't say anything else. She just waited.
"Would you complain to a blind person that sunlight gives you a headache?" I joked.
She rolled her eyes at my analogy. "I may not be the most understanding person at times, Xander, but that doesn't mean that your problems are nothing to me. I know how you feel sometimes."
"Says the girl who saves the world on a weekly basis," I said.
She rolled her eyes again. And waved her hand with typical, I'm the slayer and I have no time for games, fashion. "Seriously, Xander."
I shrugged my shoulders and made another joke. And she gave up, because she knew that after Angel and everything else, we'd spent too much time apart for me to want her help right now.
***
That night I had a dream.
I was Prince of the Tribe.
We weren't the Fallen yet, because in my dream, we still ruled.
I watched the world from my throne of bones. Humans, or what most resembled humans then, were being used like oxen plowing fields. They were tied up in endless numbers, marching to oblivion. The skies were not the eternal sea of blue I was used to. They were black like ash and storms raged within the clouds of dust. Guards stood their ground on the small steps in front of us. I didn't have to turn my head to know my father was right next to me. For a brief second I looked for my mother. I don't know why. I knew she wouldn't be there.
My hands didn't look my own. They were big and gray and had little claws instead of fingernails. I knew this was my demon body. I wish beyond all hope that that didn't have mirrors. My father spoke to me but I couldn't understand the words that came from his mouth. They were in a tongue I had no comprehension of. I nudged my shoulder and I looked at him.
I really wish I hadn't.
I saw his face, his true face.
My true face.
I won't tell you what it looked like because I never ever wanted to see it. He never showed me what he really looked like in Wyoming. I was glad.
I woke up screaming in my empty house.
I knew it wouldn't bother anyone.
***
"We should do this more," she said to me, breaking me out of my thoughts.
It took me a second to fully realize where I was and who was talking to me. We were sitting in the car my father left behind waiting for this gang of demons to meet at a warehouse on the outskirts of the Sunnydale business district. Willow and Oz were in his van across the street, while Giles, Cordy, and Amy were standing on the roof of a neighboring building, telescope, binoculars and all. It was just another exciting night of patrol in an otherwise boring existence. I moved the bat that rested in my lap onto the floor and turned to meet the eyes of the girl sitting next to me in the passenger seat.
"Do what?" I asked. "Patrolling? We do this all the time."
Buffy sighed and tapped me lightly on the shoulder. "No. Hang out. We haven't spent that much time together lately."
"Well, we've both been busy," I reasoned, careful to keep my voice flat. "Have a lot of things on our minds."
For a second, I thought I saw hurt in her eyes. Then she blinked, and whatever I thought I saw was wiped away. "No reason to let our friendship wither away," she replied softly.
I looked away and stared ahead through the windshield for a while. Keeping my eyes in front of me, I asked, "What's with the sudden need for more quality Buffy and Xander time?"
"Has it ever occurred to you that I like quality Buffy and Xander time?" She countered, smiling that smile of hers, the smile that gets her whatever she wants.
I didn't want to buy into it. I wanted to be strong. I took a moment before replying. "I've noticed that you've been lonely a lot lately."
Her smile disappears and she looks away. The name "Angel" echoes noiselessly in the car like a monkey you couldn't get off your back, chirping in your ear. Minutes passed and we sat in the quiet but loud silence.
"I've been taking people for granted," she finally said, hesitating slightly on how open to be with me. "I've always had you guys to be there for me no matter what. And I guess I kind of got used to it. But I can admit that most of the time I'm not really there for anyone else." She stopped talking and stared out the window with me for a second. "I miss us, Xander. I know I haven't have been the friend I should have been."
More silence as my fingers tightened around the steering wheel without me realizing it.
"I miss the way things used to be," she continued, her own fingers playing with the collar of her leather coat. "Simple."
"As if our lives ever really *were* simple," I said in return, the corners of my mouth twitching upward mildly at her words. "We fight things that aren't supposed to exist by the light of day, everyday. Seems kind of complicated no matter what."
"Simpler," she corrected herself, smiling again. But this time her smile is genuine. I always liked it better that way. "You know what I mean."
I did.
So I let her back in. But only a little bit.
***
Buffy and I started patrolling together every Tuesday night. She says it's our "time." No one else in the group seemed to mind. Tuesday is a slow night all around, there isn't anything really good on TV. Just a show about a mom and daughter, or a whiny bunch of aliens. We usually have the cemeteries we patrol to ourselves. Had she decided on a Friday patrol being our "time", we would have no time to talk or just be, because that's when the kids are usually out in droves. And vampires love to play with their food. We would spend all of our time quiet and ready, waiting for the kill. She didn't want that.
Buffy wanted to be friends again, and surprisingly so did I. We'd had a load of conflicting views in the last year. Stuff I mostly would like to forget. And we kind of grew apart from what we used to be to one another. All three of us (Buffy, Willow, and me) did. We say the word "friends" with a certain vagueness, with an uneasiness, because "friends" is the easiest and most immediate word that comes to mind, but it's not necessarily the most fitting.
What we really want is to fill the empty space between us. It's a strange void that seems to follow us around, silently begging to be filled. We've both tried dating with random people, me with the book girl, her with some guy named Scott. But discovered that it takes more out of you than you put in.
So we spend a majority of our time together. But we avoid touching each other; hugs and playful taps are an established taboo. We talk about everything but ourselves and how we feel. We don't want more complications. But we don't want the awkward silence either.
Come to think of it, the arrangement is not all that different from the one we used to have.
And it's surprisingly nice. To have someone there without the having to think about who you are and what you mean to each other. What we have is simple.
Just what she wanted.
***
After the usually short patrol Buffy and I met everyone back at the cafe next to the movie theatre. I can never remember the name of the place. Amy sometimes works a shift or two there, and tonight she is working. So everyone's giving her a hard time. She takes the teasing in stride and messes up our orders on purpose. It felt good being around all of them again, laughing and smiling like I used to. It was a feeling that lasted only a few seconds, but I was glad it lasted as long as it did.
The only people in the cafe were the five of us. Giles didn't exactly want to spend *all* of his free time with a group of teenagers. So I was a bit surprised when they didn't notice the nearly seven foot tall man walk inside. The bells on the door rang and everything. I recognized him immediately. He was one of the council members of the tribe. What was he doing here? How'd he know where to find me?
The others still didn't notice him.
I came to the conclusion that my father sent him to check up on me. To get a progress report that wasn't full of my false information. My hands tightened around the napkin I was strangling underneath the table. My heartbeat was pounding inside my ears. I wanted him to leave.
Our eyes locked for the briefest second. I used all my will to mentally force him to go. He just stood there watching me. Watched as my friends continued their conversation without noticing that I was currently scared out of my mind. My eyes darted back and forth between him and my friends.
Leave! I shouted inside my mind.
Please?
I bit the inside of my cheek to control my breathing. I tried to gulp back air in my dry throat, and I swear the action was almost as loud as my heartbeat. But Buffy and the others didn't notice.
He did though.
He shifted his head towards me, enough for me to enter his line of vision, but also enough so if someone happened to glance at the giant, they would think that he was examining the old Maxwell House Coffee sign above my head on the wall behind me. I shook my head slightly at him. No, I said to him silently, don't come near me. Not here. Not anywhere.
He stared back at me, his face blank.
Our staring contest ensued for a few seconds.
Blink. Stare. Blink.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
Breathe. Gasp. Breathe.
You know who my father is, I quietly commanded. Leave now and I won't tell him you disobeyed me. I wasn't exactly sure how he could receive that kind of message with my eyes, but he seemed to understand. He nodded once and quietly stood up and left. I know he'll tell my father that I was laughing and smiling and having a good time with the people I was supposed to be ruining, and at the moment I didn't really care. I could make something up later. I can tell my father that I was doing what he told me. I was still acting like their friend. They suspected nothing. Isn't that what you wanted?
Sometimes I hate lying to my father.
But only because I get nervous and think I'll forget what I had and had not told him already.
Still, I feel good about getting him to leave. I cherish my small victory.
Amy walked over to the table and asked who that guy who came in was. Everyone stopped their chatting and tried to remember if they'd seen anyone. My heart dropped into my stomach when everyone turned their heads to me. Did you see him Xander? Was there anybody here?
I thought I was going to pass out. I felt the sweat building in my palms and dripping down my back. I must have looked like I'd just avoided a car wreck to them. I couldn't breathe.
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked me. "You look a little uh..."
"Actually, I'm feeling a little... out of it," I said cutting her off before she could say anything more. We looked at each for a while, saying nothing. No one else said anything either, but all their eyes were on me. I felt like the celebrity who never wanted his stardom. Buffy put her hand on my shoulder, and it felt strange. We weren't supposed to touch each other. It usually threw our whole routine off center.
I shot out of my seat.
"I'm going to go," I told them all.
"All right," Buffy said softly. No one else said anything, but Willow stared at me with concerned eyes. I shrugged at her. I couldn't think of anything to say. Buffy told me that she would call me later, and Willow asked me to call her. I said I would, but I knew I wouldn't.
I walked out of the cafe and headed down the street. I only saw him an instant before his massive hand struck the back of my head. I hit the ground with an "oof" and he grabbed my shirt and hauled me back onto my feet. He spoke quietly but venomously about how he didn't like my father or me. He hadn't come here to check up on me. He wanted to kill me. He wanted to kill all of my friends.
He threw me against a brick wall and I swear I heard my own forehead crack against it. He started speaking in the tongue I'd heard in my dream. His eyes had gone pitch black. He rambled on and on in the foreign language and I watched as the energy in his hands grew.
He hated my father.
He hated me.
He was going to kill me.
I couldn't think at all. I'd faced countless threats in my life and always miraculously made it through. I was lucky all those times. I know that now. Because this time I wasn't going to get out unscathed. He meant to kill me. He was going to get what he wanted.
I don't know what come over me in that alley. I'd always planned to never use anything my father had taught me ever again. But all I know is that in that moment, I didn't want to die.
I raised my hand toward him.
He still mumbled on and built his power.
I pointed a finger at him.
I whispered "boom."
***
I'm not sure how long I stood staring at the smoldering pile of ash that used to be a seven foot tall member of the Tribe. The bricks behind the pile were stained powder black, and a small bit of smoke rose from that too. My mind was surprisingly blank. All I had known was that he was going to kill me. Instead I killed him. I pointed my finger at him, said the magic word, and poof. He was gone.
I'm glad I won't have to explain this to my father.
If the man was here to kill me, I was pretty sure he knew nothing about it. I wondered if dad was really as secure in his place as king as he thought it was. I made a small note to myself not to care.
I heard the voices of my friends coming from down the street. In all the excitement I'd forgotten that the use of my power could also double as a light show. They'd probably seen it all from where I was standing a few blocks down.
I proceed to get the hell out of there.
I listened to the sound of my shoes slapping against the cracked sidewalk as I ran and I tried to stay in the shadows. I was okay. I did the right thing. He wanted to kill me. I just defended myself. I had to run from my friends. They weren't ready to know about me yet.
Do you really believe that? My mind asked.
I stopped, then shook the question, the guilt of weakness out of my head.
Walk. Walk. Walk.
Run. Run. Run.
Flee, little mouse, flee.
I raced to the house that I no longer called home.
***
Or maybe it's just me.
I can feel my body's energy now. The horrible explosive power that it's capable of. It churns like electricity in my veins. I think that it's made me jumpy because the last few days I've been really, really paranoid. I'm afraid that one of my friends was just going to look at me and know. Like 'demon' would magically appear to be stamped on my forehead. I want them to know, and I don't want them to know. I have no idea what is going on.
My social life has changed slightly.
I had a date the other day.
Yes, that's right.
I had a date.
I was in a bookstore when this cute girl who worked there asked if I needed any help. I told her I didn't but she didn't walk away. She just kind of stood there and watched me thumb through a book I had no intention of buying.
"You have an interesting aura," she told me.
I think I laughed because she smiled at me. I wondered what she would have thought if she saw that I literally could make my body glow. I bet she would have ran screaming for the hills. I pretended to look at the book for another minute and she said that she was getting off of work soon, and would I want join her for some coffee? I said sure. I still don't know what possessed me to do that.
We had a nice enough time. Chit chatted about things that never really mattered, talked a little bit about books, though my knowledge of them only ranged in the "older than you, scary, and incredibly boring" category. After we were done she said that she kind of liked me and wouldn't object to seeing me again. I said that I would like that.
I had no intention of ever seeing her again, but it was nice to spend a little time with someone who knew absolutely nothing about me.
When I told Willow about it later, she told me that girls haven't always been blind to my subtle good looks. She said that it was probably because of lately I've been more laid-back, which I attribute to having too much on my mind to make any attempts at looking for girls and ending up looking like a dork half the time. She also said that disappearing for a month was long enough in this town for people to forget about you. Oh how I wished that was true. She then said something about how maybe I'd changed in a few people's eyes.
I almost make a lame joke about how I had changed, but wisely kept my mouth shut.
Small side note on the changing thing.
I was really paranoid the first couple of days when I came back home. Like Buffy and everyone would immediately be able to tell that I had *changed* or something. Well, then again, "changed" would mean that me being half-demon happened only in the last month, when the truth is, this all happened seventeen years ago and I just now found out about it. I think I should rephrase here for a second. I was really freaked at the prospect that the Scooby gang would look at me for one second and would instantly see with their special powers of deduction the truth that had been bestowed upon their old friend Xander. That all it would take would be one glance at me from Oz and his nose would twitch and smell the demon on me. Or for Buffy to say, "You seem kind of... different."
Damn, I sound like a thirteen-year-old girl going through puberty.
"Do I look different to you? Have I changed at all?"
They couldn't tell a damn thing.
I was glad and mad about it all at the same time.
***
When I'm at home I *know* everything is different.
I'm the only who even lives here anymore.
My mom is off god knows where, and my father stayed behind in Wyoming.
Speaking of my father, he calls once a week for status reports on the slayer. The conversation is usually quick and painless. I usually give him a load of bogus information, because lately I've been trying not to pay that much attention to her. Just so I didn't have to make up too much false info. I'm not very good with details. He asks me if the plan is working, and half the time I forget what plan he's talking about. I tell him yes. We hang up.
The house is dark and quiet without the loud drunken fights of my family. In a small scary way I almost miss it, but I really do prefer the silence. I like the quiet. I never play the stereo or turn the TV up. If I want noise I'll go to the Bronze, or hang out with my friends. I never turn on a light or draw a shade open unless I really have to. Which, rarely, I do. I stumble around in the darkness to get to the bathroom for midnight release, bumping into shadowed objects with my legs, and stubbing my toes on countless bits of furniture. It starts to hurt after the first five times but I refuse to flip any switches along the way.
Sound and light just seem to remind mind me how empty the house really is when there's no one else here to utilize it.
I can sit here in the dark and quiet as long as I want and pretend nothing is wrong. But I know that soon I'll have to make a choice about some things. About who I really am. About whom I'll stand by when the time comes. But for now I'll just sit here.
Alexander LaVelle Harris.
This is your life.
Are we having fun yet?
***
I stare in the mirror one morning and hardly recognize the person staring back at me.
I think of all my friends.
They are the lucky ones.
Sure, they may fight evil more than they sleep. They may risk their lives day in and day out. That may not seem so lucky to casual observer, but that's not what I'm talking about. Each one of them knows who they are. They know what side they fight on. They know where they stand. Buffy was the slayer. Giles was the watcher. Willow was the brains. Amy was the heart. Cordy was the feistiness. Oz was, well Oz. But at least he knew who that was.
Me?
I am Xander Harris.
That is all I know.
Whatever that means.
It's still summertime so I don't have to go to school. Most of the time I'm grateful for that. I don't have to sit through some boring class when my mind is nowhere near the subjects I'm supposed to be taught. I guess that now I really can say that I don't need anything they teach me in High School. Why do I need to know the square route of 642 when I'm supposed to burn the Earth to ashes? But sometime I'd like a reason more than total boredom to escape my house. Hanging out with my friends can sometimes be to nerve racking.
I look away from the mirror and I decide to go to the library and hang out with my friends anyway. But only because I really want a distraction.
***
It was Buffy who finally noticed a small difference in my character. We were having lunch one day at a small Cafe next to the movie theatre. Willow, Oz, Cordy, and Amy were with us, but they left to go pursue some fun in the remaining sunlit hours and we were all that was left behind. I don't know what it was I said or did, but she saw something wrong. She figured it was something human, something that could be fixed.
I lied straight to her face and told her it was nothing and munched on the rest of my chicken sandwich.
She didn't say anything else. She just waited.
"Would you complain to a blind person that sunlight gives you a headache?" I joked.
She rolled her eyes at my analogy. "I may not be the most understanding person at times, Xander, but that doesn't mean that your problems are nothing to me. I know how you feel sometimes."
"Says the girl who saves the world on a weekly basis," I said.
She rolled her eyes again. And waved her hand with typical, I'm the slayer and I have no time for games, fashion. "Seriously, Xander."
I shrugged my shoulders and made another joke. And she gave up, because she knew that after Angel and everything else, we'd spent too much time apart for me to want her help right now.
***
That night I had a dream.
I was Prince of the Tribe.
We weren't the Fallen yet, because in my dream, we still ruled.
I watched the world from my throne of bones. Humans, or what most resembled humans then, were being used like oxen plowing fields. They were tied up in endless numbers, marching to oblivion. The skies were not the eternal sea of blue I was used to. They were black like ash and storms raged within the clouds of dust. Guards stood their ground on the small steps in front of us. I didn't have to turn my head to know my father was right next to me. For a brief second I looked for my mother. I don't know why. I knew she wouldn't be there.
My hands didn't look my own. They were big and gray and had little claws instead of fingernails. I knew this was my demon body. I wish beyond all hope that that didn't have mirrors. My father spoke to me but I couldn't understand the words that came from his mouth. They were in a tongue I had no comprehension of. I nudged my shoulder and I looked at him.
I really wish I hadn't.
I saw his face, his true face.
My true face.
I won't tell you what it looked like because I never ever wanted to see it. He never showed me what he really looked like in Wyoming. I was glad.
I woke up screaming in my empty house.
I knew it wouldn't bother anyone.
***
"We should do this more," she said to me, breaking me out of my thoughts.
It took me a second to fully realize where I was and who was talking to me. We were sitting in the car my father left behind waiting for this gang of demons to meet at a warehouse on the outskirts of the Sunnydale business district. Willow and Oz were in his van across the street, while Giles, Cordy, and Amy were standing on the roof of a neighboring building, telescope, binoculars and all. It was just another exciting night of patrol in an otherwise boring existence. I moved the bat that rested in my lap onto the floor and turned to meet the eyes of the girl sitting next to me in the passenger seat.
"Do what?" I asked. "Patrolling? We do this all the time."
Buffy sighed and tapped me lightly on the shoulder. "No. Hang out. We haven't spent that much time together lately."
"Well, we've both been busy," I reasoned, careful to keep my voice flat. "Have a lot of things on our minds."
For a second, I thought I saw hurt in her eyes. Then she blinked, and whatever I thought I saw was wiped away. "No reason to let our friendship wither away," she replied softly.
I looked away and stared ahead through the windshield for a while. Keeping my eyes in front of me, I asked, "What's with the sudden need for more quality Buffy and Xander time?"
"Has it ever occurred to you that I like quality Buffy and Xander time?" She countered, smiling that smile of hers, the smile that gets her whatever she wants.
I didn't want to buy into it. I wanted to be strong. I took a moment before replying. "I've noticed that you've been lonely a lot lately."
Her smile disappears and she looks away. The name "Angel" echoes noiselessly in the car like a monkey you couldn't get off your back, chirping in your ear. Minutes passed and we sat in the quiet but loud silence.
"I've been taking people for granted," she finally said, hesitating slightly on how open to be with me. "I've always had you guys to be there for me no matter what. And I guess I kind of got used to it. But I can admit that most of the time I'm not really there for anyone else." She stopped talking and stared out the window with me for a second. "I miss us, Xander. I know I haven't have been the friend I should have been."
More silence as my fingers tightened around the steering wheel without me realizing it.
"I miss the way things used to be," she continued, her own fingers playing with the collar of her leather coat. "Simple."
"As if our lives ever really *were* simple," I said in return, the corners of my mouth twitching upward mildly at her words. "We fight things that aren't supposed to exist by the light of day, everyday. Seems kind of complicated no matter what."
"Simpler," she corrected herself, smiling again. But this time her smile is genuine. I always liked it better that way. "You know what I mean."
I did.
So I let her back in. But only a little bit.
***
Buffy and I started patrolling together every Tuesday night. She says it's our "time." No one else in the group seemed to mind. Tuesday is a slow night all around, there isn't anything really good on TV. Just a show about a mom and daughter, or a whiny bunch of aliens. We usually have the cemeteries we patrol to ourselves. Had she decided on a Friday patrol being our "time", we would have no time to talk or just be, because that's when the kids are usually out in droves. And vampires love to play with their food. We would spend all of our time quiet and ready, waiting for the kill. She didn't want that.
Buffy wanted to be friends again, and surprisingly so did I. We'd had a load of conflicting views in the last year. Stuff I mostly would like to forget. And we kind of grew apart from what we used to be to one another. All three of us (Buffy, Willow, and me) did. We say the word "friends" with a certain vagueness, with an uneasiness, because "friends" is the easiest and most immediate word that comes to mind, but it's not necessarily the most fitting.
What we really want is to fill the empty space between us. It's a strange void that seems to follow us around, silently begging to be filled. We've both tried dating with random people, me with the book girl, her with some guy named Scott. But discovered that it takes more out of you than you put in.
So we spend a majority of our time together. But we avoid touching each other; hugs and playful taps are an established taboo. We talk about everything but ourselves and how we feel. We don't want more complications. But we don't want the awkward silence either.
Come to think of it, the arrangement is not all that different from the one we used to have.
And it's surprisingly nice. To have someone there without the having to think about who you are and what you mean to each other. What we have is simple.
Just what she wanted.
***
After the usually short patrol Buffy and I met everyone back at the cafe next to the movie theatre. I can never remember the name of the place. Amy sometimes works a shift or two there, and tonight she is working. So everyone's giving her a hard time. She takes the teasing in stride and messes up our orders on purpose. It felt good being around all of them again, laughing and smiling like I used to. It was a feeling that lasted only a few seconds, but I was glad it lasted as long as it did.
The only people in the cafe were the five of us. Giles didn't exactly want to spend *all* of his free time with a group of teenagers. So I was a bit surprised when they didn't notice the nearly seven foot tall man walk inside. The bells on the door rang and everything. I recognized him immediately. He was one of the council members of the tribe. What was he doing here? How'd he know where to find me?
The others still didn't notice him.
I came to the conclusion that my father sent him to check up on me. To get a progress report that wasn't full of my false information. My hands tightened around the napkin I was strangling underneath the table. My heartbeat was pounding inside my ears. I wanted him to leave.
Our eyes locked for the briefest second. I used all my will to mentally force him to go. He just stood there watching me. Watched as my friends continued their conversation without noticing that I was currently scared out of my mind. My eyes darted back and forth between him and my friends.
Leave! I shouted inside my mind.
Please?
I bit the inside of my cheek to control my breathing. I tried to gulp back air in my dry throat, and I swear the action was almost as loud as my heartbeat. But Buffy and the others didn't notice.
He did though.
He shifted his head towards me, enough for me to enter his line of vision, but also enough so if someone happened to glance at the giant, they would think that he was examining the old Maxwell House Coffee sign above my head on the wall behind me. I shook my head slightly at him. No, I said to him silently, don't come near me. Not here. Not anywhere.
He stared back at me, his face blank.
Our staring contest ensued for a few seconds.
Blink. Stare. Blink.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
Breathe. Gasp. Breathe.
You know who my father is, I quietly commanded. Leave now and I won't tell him you disobeyed me. I wasn't exactly sure how he could receive that kind of message with my eyes, but he seemed to understand. He nodded once and quietly stood up and left. I know he'll tell my father that I was laughing and smiling and having a good time with the people I was supposed to be ruining, and at the moment I didn't really care. I could make something up later. I can tell my father that I was doing what he told me. I was still acting like their friend. They suspected nothing. Isn't that what you wanted?
Sometimes I hate lying to my father.
But only because I get nervous and think I'll forget what I had and had not told him already.
Still, I feel good about getting him to leave. I cherish my small victory.
Amy walked over to the table and asked who that guy who came in was. Everyone stopped their chatting and tried to remember if they'd seen anyone. My heart dropped into my stomach when everyone turned their heads to me. Did you see him Xander? Was there anybody here?
I thought I was going to pass out. I felt the sweat building in my palms and dripping down my back. I must have looked like I'd just avoided a car wreck to them. I couldn't breathe.
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked me. "You look a little uh..."
"Actually, I'm feeling a little... out of it," I said cutting her off before she could say anything more. We looked at each for a while, saying nothing. No one else said anything either, but all their eyes were on me. I felt like the celebrity who never wanted his stardom. Buffy put her hand on my shoulder, and it felt strange. We weren't supposed to touch each other. It usually threw our whole routine off center.
I shot out of my seat.
"I'm going to go," I told them all.
"All right," Buffy said softly. No one else said anything, but Willow stared at me with concerned eyes. I shrugged at her. I couldn't think of anything to say. Buffy told me that she would call me later, and Willow asked me to call her. I said I would, but I knew I wouldn't.
I walked out of the cafe and headed down the street. I only saw him an instant before his massive hand struck the back of my head. I hit the ground with an "oof" and he grabbed my shirt and hauled me back onto my feet. He spoke quietly but venomously about how he didn't like my father or me. He hadn't come here to check up on me. He wanted to kill me. He wanted to kill all of my friends.
He threw me against a brick wall and I swear I heard my own forehead crack against it. He started speaking in the tongue I'd heard in my dream. His eyes had gone pitch black. He rambled on and on in the foreign language and I watched as the energy in his hands grew.
He hated my father.
He hated me.
He was going to kill me.
I couldn't think at all. I'd faced countless threats in my life and always miraculously made it through. I was lucky all those times. I know that now. Because this time I wasn't going to get out unscathed. He meant to kill me. He was going to get what he wanted.
I don't know what come over me in that alley. I'd always planned to never use anything my father had taught me ever again. But all I know is that in that moment, I didn't want to die.
I raised my hand toward him.
He still mumbled on and built his power.
I pointed a finger at him.
I whispered "boom."
***
I'm not sure how long I stood staring at the smoldering pile of ash that used to be a seven foot tall member of the Tribe. The bricks behind the pile were stained powder black, and a small bit of smoke rose from that too. My mind was surprisingly blank. All I had known was that he was going to kill me. Instead I killed him. I pointed my finger at him, said the magic word, and poof. He was gone.
I'm glad I won't have to explain this to my father.
If the man was here to kill me, I was pretty sure he knew nothing about it. I wondered if dad was really as secure in his place as king as he thought it was. I made a small note to myself not to care.
I heard the voices of my friends coming from down the street. In all the excitement I'd forgotten that the use of my power could also double as a light show. They'd probably seen it all from where I was standing a few blocks down.
I proceed to get the hell out of there.
I listened to the sound of my shoes slapping against the cracked sidewalk as I ran and I tried to stay in the shadows. I was okay. I did the right thing. He wanted to kill me. I just defended myself. I had to run from my friends. They weren't ready to know about me yet.
Do you really believe that? My mind asked.
I stopped, then shook the question, the guilt of weakness out of my head.
Walk. Walk. Walk.
Run. Run. Run.
Flee, little mouse, flee.
I raced to the house that I no longer called home.
***