Title: Deathwish (3/6)

Author: Brooke

Email: yabbadabbadome13@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I might someday though. It's a goal of mine. Buffy and friends are owned by Joss, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, UPN, and whoever else has rights to the show.

Summary: Adventures in slaying

Spoilers: I'm not good with eppy titles, but it's pretty much just some stuff I borrowed from season 5.

Distribution: My fic is your fic. Just let me know.

Feedback: Definitely!! Tell me if it sucked or if you liked it. Whatever. Just write back!

Authors Note: … indicate thoughts. Happy reading all!

--Buffy

            My arm is killing me, but I keep running.

            Xander passed out, so I'm carrying him. I wish I could run faster for him.

            There are eight vamps behind me, and I know they can smell us. We are both bleeding.

            I don't know where to go, where would be safe. Xander feels like lead in my arms as my feet connect with the pavement just outside the cemetery. My breath is coming in short gasps and I feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and the gash that is still bleeding on my head.

            I can't run anymore, but my legs heavily carry both Xander and I to the street that my mother's art gallery is on.

            I know that this is not about what I can and cannot do. That this is about what I must do. What I will do.

            I can still hear the footsteps falling on the cement street as I hide us in the doorway of my mother's darkened store. I fumble through my pocket key that she had given me. Thank God I chose to wear my uncharacteristic cargo pants, the ones that Xander bought me, I remember fondly. They were his present on my 20th birthday.

            I have to hurry.

            I drop his feet to the ground and lean his weight on my bad arm. The action causes me to wince as I jam the key into the slot and force the door open .

            I still hear the footsteps and I try to hurry to drag Xander into the dark store. He stirs as I lay him behind the counter and make my way back to lock the door again.

            Then I crawl back to where Xander is laying and as I sit down next to him I start to cry again. I will myself to stop as he wakes himself up, but I can't. I can't anymore.

--Xander

            This is exactly why Buffy's my hero. Why I won't give up on her. Why I love her.

I know that she carried me all the way here, running with a broken arm and a head wound.

            We lost. I know we did. But it's only a battle in the whole scheme of the war.

            My thoughts aren't coming easily to me, mostly because my brain feels like soup, but I know that Buffy went the that tomb under the pretense of dying. I saw that by the way she was fighting. She set herself up to die.

            The thought rips through my mind and I feel my body convulse involuntarily as I realize that Buffy could be dead right now.

            I can hear the soft sobs resounding through the room we are in and I reach out my hand to her. I need to touch her, to assure myself that she is okay.

            I run my fingers gently up and down Buffy's ankle as I feel my hand connect with her flesh.

            She gasps at the contact and I sigh in relief. She's alive. Buffy is alive because I ran into that crypt after her. My heart swells as I realize that I, Alexander Harris, gave Buffy Summers a reason to live.