Title: Seeing
Author: Juliet DeMarcus
Rating: R - just to be safe for future chapters.
Summary: Post "Selfless," Xander has given some thought to Buffy's words and has taken a long, hard look at himself...he's decided, he has to make some things right. Because sometimes you *can* help. Crossover with "Angel." X/A, B/S... X/S in a slow forming friendship kinda way. Please review... feedback is my addiction of choice!
"Xander," her voice sounded weak, sad...a little surprised as she stared at him from the other side of the open door. Lost for a moment in his gaze, so filled with compassion,... love. He'd come to see her. And despite all the pain she felt and however much she knew she should turn him away, she couldn't...her heart was fluttering, in that wonderful way it did only with him. She couldn't lose that, not now. Not when everything had seemed so dark.
"Hey," he smiled, that goofy Xander grin, but his eyes held anxiety. "I know you might not want me here now, but I just wanted to check in on you and maybe --"
"No," she interrupted suddenly. Half smiling then at their awkwardness she continued. "I mean, no, I *don't* mind you being here. It - It would be really nice to have some company."
Xander smiled more fully at this, and she smiled back. Nothing of what had happened between them, nothing of what she had become, none of it had deadened the feelings she had towards this man. And she doubted anything ever would. She sighed, wondering how she should feel about that...
"So..., you think maybe I could come in a while? Just to talk a while."
As she looked up at him he noticed for the first time how red and bloodshot her eyes looked and there were tear tracks all down her face, messing up her light make up. She had dark circles too...hadn't been sleeping.
He found himself wondering what she did on those nights she couldn't sleep... Before when she was unable to drift off they would play word games, or Anya would give him one of those quizzes out of Cosmo or some other women's magazine, after the incident with Sweet she had even managed to get him to sing to her sometimes though no one else would ever, EVER hear of that...then, of course, there were the *other* things they did when she couldn't sleep.
"Sure. Um, come in." She stepped aside and he made his way into the apartment, taking everything in. It was smaller than their apartment..., now his apartment alone. But it was nice -- modern and plenty of room for one person.
"This is a really great place," he said walking around the main room and taking everything in appreciatively. She half smiled in response, looking around herself a moment.
"Yes," she answered with faux enthusiasm and a broad forced smile that would've done the Buffybot proud, but it faded quickly. "It's nothing like our apartment -- your apartment...but I believe I have decorated it adequately. It is my own space. I've been doing some reading about finding myself and it said that was very important, having your own space. So I did. I made it mine."
He smiled. For all the times he'd told her that she was speaking too bluntly, too literally, too honestly...now he found he couldn't think of anything he missed more than just listening to her talk.
"Sounds like a good plan. I like it. Homey. Feels like you..." They both looked down, away from each other. "I guess a place just doesn't feel like home anymore unless it feels like you're there." She looked up at him then and he saw the struggle inside her, between happiness at his words and feeling that she wasn't worthy of them.
"Why are you being so nice to me, Xander?"
"I'm not. I'm just being honest."
"But you came here to help me and you are saying nice things. I don't deserve it."
"Who says? Besides, I probably came here as much to get help as to give it."
She scoffed, walking over to the table in the dining area and sitting down. He followed suit and sat down across from her. "As if I could help anybody."
"You do. You helped me all the time. And when Willow went dark magic on us, you helped then too... You helped Giles with the Magic Box. You help a lot of people."
She didn't speak for a long time. Just staring at him...taking him in, feeling the love for him swell in her chest. She wanted to cry, she wanted to declare her love, beg for forgiveness... but instead she just looked down at the surface of the table, running her fingers across it absently. When she spoke again, it was so quietly that Xander nearly missed it.
"Not anymore. Now all I do is hurt people."
"No -- you gave that up. You even offered yourself to make up for it. You have to start forgiving yourself... Those guys, they are alive now --"
"Only because Hallie is dead! My *friend*," seeing Xander open his mouth to speak she put a hand up to stop him. "I know, she was a vengeance demon but so was I! And I was the one who made a mistake! I was the one who wanted to take it back. I should be the one who is dead!," she shook her head, a couple tears falling from her eyes and quickly down her face. "And those guys aren't the only ones that were dead...or hurt, sometimes it's worse to be hurt than dead... Just because I offered to take one wish back doesn't undo everything I've done for centuries... Xander, you hate Spike for what he's done in the past, because he's a demon and because he's killed people... Don't you?" She looked up into his face with desperation, silent tears streaming down her face. He didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. He had talked, or ranted to her too many times about his hatred of Spike to honestly deny it.
"I know you do," she continued sadly. "You've said it a million times. But Xander what do you think *I* am? Spike's not even two hundred years old...I'm over a thousand. What Spike's done is nothing compared to my past. So, how can you be here now... how can you still care?"
Everything she said made sense, though he'd never before really considered it in that context. The implications began to set in...and for a moment, he was stricken. Then he found himself staring into her imploring eyes, and he had no trouble finding his reason.
"Anya... I - I love you. It doesn't matter about anything else. I know that you've changed...*I know*. You proved it the other night when you offered your life for those guys. Besides, you're not the only one whose made mistakes here. I know that I act like... like I'm above the wrong, but what I've done is wrong too. I hurt you, so much...I realize that and I swear I would do anything to take it back. Vengeance was all you knew...and I forced you back into that because of how I treated you. You deserved better than that. Better than what I gave you."
She sobbed softly. "Xander, what I've done..."
"We'll get through it. We'll get through it together."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"We'll get through this together... It's going to be okay..."
"No it's not! You can't fool me anymore...I know you're not real! You're trying to make me crazy." He laughed then, insane, hysterical laughter filling the basement with disturbing echoes. "More crazy. You're trying to make me...fall..."
"Shhhh...," Buffy's soft voice shushed him and she stroked the side of his face with her tiny hand. He looked up into her face. She looked so real...but he knew -- simply by the way she treated him that she was not. He had to keep it straight in his mind, what was real and what was not...before...
"You're fighting so hard. I can help you, Spike. Just let go... don't you want to let go for a while. Rest. Quit fighting with the dark. It's you. I accept that. I'm here with you, aren't I? We belong in the dark, here, together."
Spike looked up at her, haunted by something familiar in her words. He had told Buffy she belonged in the dark, with him -- God, what a liar he was! He had hurt her, isolated her from her friends...just another thing...
"If you let go, it will all be better. I don't want you to hurt anymore, Spike."
"It will be like it was with Dru," Spike's head snapped up at the new voice and searched desperately for the Buffy that had been there moments before, but she was gone. Instead, standing several feet away stood Angelus, infuriating smirk plastered on his face. "Dru fought at first...she tried to resist the loss of her guilt, her pain...," he spoke slowly, seductively as he walked over to where Spike was in the corner. He brushed his had gently across his face and Spike shuttered. "But really what's the point? After she let go and finally lost it, she was much happier. Someone should've killed her family sooner." He laughed, Spike felt sick. Angelus grabbed Spike savagely by his hair and pulling his head back to look him directly in the face. "And unless you get with the program soon," he ground out, "someone's going to have to kill yours."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He had held her hand while she cried. Patiently, until she stopped. Just wanting her to know, he was there. He had reached out and carefully wiped the tears off her face, not wanting to move too close, not wanting to scare her away from this moment. There was something he still needed to do.
"Anya, there's still something I need to tell you," she looked up at him. And he was relieved to see that she was no longer crying.
"What it is it?," she asked in a quiet, curious voice. He swallowed, this was it.
"I - I need to tell you why I left you that day... on our wedding day."
"No Xander, you were right. That excuse quit working. And you've told me already all you can that you were sorry."
"No, not just that. I want to tell you why... I never told you why." She looked extremely curious about this. She tilted her head slightly as she studied him.
"Was it because you wanted someone better? Someone who wasn't a troll boinking, alarmingly literal, vengeance demon?"
Xander's eyes widened at her words, though they were not spoken in a mean or bitter tone. She was really curious.
"Or was it because I wasn't a hero... I mean, I try to help ... But I'm not Buffy. Or Willow even. I just... And maybe I liked money too much and was always too literal and--"
"No. This isn't about Buffy or Willow...and you being literal? Just another thing about you I love..., and hey, money ain't too bad either." He grinned, reaching out and taking her hand again and squeezing it in his own before turning more serious. "It was *nothing* to do with you."
"Yeah right... that's what they all say."
"Anya, it was about me. It was,... I was afraid."
She blinked in surprise, looking genuinely interested. "Afraid of what?"
Xander exhaled the breath he'd been holding. Looking up at the ceiling, suddenly finding it very interesting.
"Life... How things would turn out in five years, or ten...Becoming my father."
Anya's brow furrowed. He waited. Quiet permeated the room, so finally he looked up, trying to gage her reaction. She studied his face intently and he resisted the urge to squirm.
"Becoming your father?," she asked in confusion, clearly not understanding. "You mean,... you thought I was going to turn you into a clone of your father?"
Now it was Xander's turn to be confused.
"Huh?... No, no... I don't mean... It's just,..." he looked down again. Finding the words were even harder now than all those times he had practiced it in his head -- what a waste of time *that* had been. "My father...we didn't...he's not exactly a nice guy." '*Duh...*,' Xander and Anya both thought in frustration.
'Way to go with the understatement. Nice explaining skills there Xan...' He shut up his taunting mind and ventured another look at Anya. Her expression was open, patient.
Anya was holding back her frustration, her eagerness to understand what he meant. She knew his father was an unpleasant, selfish man who made passes at her on every occasion she had ever met him. But she still didn't understand this... She knew it was hard for him. She knew he covered things, always had and not just with her, with everybody. All his fears and insecurities hidden behind witty remarks and Xander-style humor. To reveal what was inside himself...was something so hard for him that in fact, he'd never done it...yet now he was trying, for her. She would wait there all day...even into tomorrow, if she had to.
He was relived. He could read the concern in her eyes, not judgment, not impatience, not even anger...just concern, patience, love -- he could feel it, and suddenly he found himself unable to look away, the words just spilling out..
"He's always been...a drunk, basically. He starting beating my mom when I was young...when I was six or so... Seems like forever. They would fight all the time...a lot about money, a lot about drinking, a lot about me,... and after awhile the fighting would become him hitting her. It - He just got so bad when he was drunk that sometimes he would hit me too."
Anya took an involuntary gulp of air. Her eyes wide, her heart pounding. After all her experience...she had known he was a womanizer, a rude man who often fought with his wife,... but she hadn't realized how bad it was. 'I should have known... I should have recognized it.'
Xander drew in a slow breath, feeling humiliated. He'd never told anyone about this, not even Willow. Neither had his mother. They had both lived in utter silence about the incidents, even when it came to each other. It had been easier that way. Easier to pretend it never happened...until the next time.
"He always hated us," his voice was trembling now and he despised the sound of it -- but he had to do this, had to finish. "I don't know why he didn't just leave us. Run off with one of his ... women he had on the side that he didn't care that we knew about...But I guess that wouldn't have hurt enough..."
"Xander..." Anya breathed, new tears falling from her eyes now. But no longer tears for her, no longer even tears for what she had done...but tears for him, the part of him that even she had never known. "Oh Xander..."
Her voice broke him and he began to cry. "God, I wish he'd just left. Or died. I shouldn't wish that... he's my dad, no - no matter what he's done. But I hate him. I wished him dead..." Suddenly he froze, his tearful eyes wide as his head jerked up to look at Anya with a mixture of anticipation and horror, forgetting for the moment--
"It's okay, Xander," she smiled a soft, sad smile at him. "Not my job to grant wishes anymore,...remember?" Through his tears he managed a sheepish grin, feeling silly that he'd been so alarmed. After all, the loss of her powers had been the reason, in a roundabout way, for him being there in the first place. "I'm sorry...," he whispered.
"It's okay. I haven't *not* been a demon for long--"
"No. I mean about before. I should have told you..." She looked at him in surprise. The look on his face breaking her heart. She was overcome, tears spilling over, she could find no words to say. So she did the only thing she could. She flew at him giving him a fierce hug. Wrapping their arms around each other and holding on for dear life, they stayed there, and just cried.
TBC...
Author: Juliet DeMarcus
Rating: R - just to be safe for future chapters.
Summary: Post "Selfless," Xander has given some thought to Buffy's words and has taken a long, hard look at himself...he's decided, he has to make some things right. Because sometimes you *can* help. Crossover with "Angel." X/A, B/S... X/S in a slow forming friendship kinda way. Please review... feedback is my addiction of choice!
"Xander," her voice sounded weak, sad...a little surprised as she stared at him from the other side of the open door. Lost for a moment in his gaze, so filled with compassion,... love. He'd come to see her. And despite all the pain she felt and however much she knew she should turn him away, she couldn't...her heart was fluttering, in that wonderful way it did only with him. She couldn't lose that, not now. Not when everything had seemed so dark.
"Hey," he smiled, that goofy Xander grin, but his eyes held anxiety. "I know you might not want me here now, but I just wanted to check in on you and maybe --"
"No," she interrupted suddenly. Half smiling then at their awkwardness she continued. "I mean, no, I *don't* mind you being here. It - It would be really nice to have some company."
Xander smiled more fully at this, and she smiled back. Nothing of what had happened between them, nothing of what she had become, none of it had deadened the feelings she had towards this man. And she doubted anything ever would. She sighed, wondering how she should feel about that...
"So..., you think maybe I could come in a while? Just to talk a while."
As she looked up at him he noticed for the first time how red and bloodshot her eyes looked and there were tear tracks all down her face, messing up her light make up. She had dark circles too...hadn't been sleeping.
He found himself wondering what she did on those nights she couldn't sleep... Before when she was unable to drift off they would play word games, or Anya would give him one of those quizzes out of Cosmo or some other women's magazine, after the incident with Sweet she had even managed to get him to sing to her sometimes though no one else would ever, EVER hear of that...then, of course, there were the *other* things they did when she couldn't sleep.
"Sure. Um, come in." She stepped aside and he made his way into the apartment, taking everything in. It was smaller than their apartment..., now his apartment alone. But it was nice -- modern and plenty of room for one person.
"This is a really great place," he said walking around the main room and taking everything in appreciatively. She half smiled in response, looking around herself a moment.
"Yes," she answered with faux enthusiasm and a broad forced smile that would've done the Buffybot proud, but it faded quickly. "It's nothing like our apartment -- your apartment...but I believe I have decorated it adequately. It is my own space. I've been doing some reading about finding myself and it said that was very important, having your own space. So I did. I made it mine."
He smiled. For all the times he'd told her that she was speaking too bluntly, too literally, too honestly...now he found he couldn't think of anything he missed more than just listening to her talk.
"Sounds like a good plan. I like it. Homey. Feels like you..." They both looked down, away from each other. "I guess a place just doesn't feel like home anymore unless it feels like you're there." She looked up at him then and he saw the struggle inside her, between happiness at his words and feeling that she wasn't worthy of them.
"Why are you being so nice to me, Xander?"
"I'm not. I'm just being honest."
"But you came here to help me and you are saying nice things. I don't deserve it."
"Who says? Besides, I probably came here as much to get help as to give it."
She scoffed, walking over to the table in the dining area and sitting down. He followed suit and sat down across from her. "As if I could help anybody."
"You do. You helped me all the time. And when Willow went dark magic on us, you helped then too... You helped Giles with the Magic Box. You help a lot of people."
She didn't speak for a long time. Just staring at him...taking him in, feeling the love for him swell in her chest. She wanted to cry, she wanted to declare her love, beg for forgiveness... but instead she just looked down at the surface of the table, running her fingers across it absently. When she spoke again, it was so quietly that Xander nearly missed it.
"Not anymore. Now all I do is hurt people."
"No -- you gave that up. You even offered yourself to make up for it. You have to start forgiving yourself... Those guys, they are alive now --"
"Only because Hallie is dead! My *friend*," seeing Xander open his mouth to speak she put a hand up to stop him. "I know, she was a vengeance demon but so was I! And I was the one who made a mistake! I was the one who wanted to take it back. I should be the one who is dead!," she shook her head, a couple tears falling from her eyes and quickly down her face. "And those guys aren't the only ones that were dead...or hurt, sometimes it's worse to be hurt than dead... Just because I offered to take one wish back doesn't undo everything I've done for centuries... Xander, you hate Spike for what he's done in the past, because he's a demon and because he's killed people... Don't you?" She looked up into his face with desperation, silent tears streaming down her face. He didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. He had talked, or ranted to her too many times about his hatred of Spike to honestly deny it.
"I know you do," she continued sadly. "You've said it a million times. But Xander what do you think *I* am? Spike's not even two hundred years old...I'm over a thousand. What Spike's done is nothing compared to my past. So, how can you be here now... how can you still care?"
Everything she said made sense, though he'd never before really considered it in that context. The implications began to set in...and for a moment, he was stricken. Then he found himself staring into her imploring eyes, and he had no trouble finding his reason.
"Anya... I - I love you. It doesn't matter about anything else. I know that you've changed...*I know*. You proved it the other night when you offered your life for those guys. Besides, you're not the only one whose made mistakes here. I know that I act like... like I'm above the wrong, but what I've done is wrong too. I hurt you, so much...I realize that and I swear I would do anything to take it back. Vengeance was all you knew...and I forced you back into that because of how I treated you. You deserved better than that. Better than what I gave you."
She sobbed softly. "Xander, what I've done..."
"We'll get through it. We'll get through it together."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"We'll get through this together... It's going to be okay..."
"No it's not! You can't fool me anymore...I know you're not real! You're trying to make me crazy." He laughed then, insane, hysterical laughter filling the basement with disturbing echoes. "More crazy. You're trying to make me...fall..."
"Shhhh...," Buffy's soft voice shushed him and she stroked the side of his face with her tiny hand. He looked up into her face. She looked so real...but he knew -- simply by the way she treated him that she was not. He had to keep it straight in his mind, what was real and what was not...before...
"You're fighting so hard. I can help you, Spike. Just let go... don't you want to let go for a while. Rest. Quit fighting with the dark. It's you. I accept that. I'm here with you, aren't I? We belong in the dark, here, together."
Spike looked up at her, haunted by something familiar in her words. He had told Buffy she belonged in the dark, with him -- God, what a liar he was! He had hurt her, isolated her from her friends...just another thing...
"If you let go, it will all be better. I don't want you to hurt anymore, Spike."
"It will be like it was with Dru," Spike's head snapped up at the new voice and searched desperately for the Buffy that had been there moments before, but she was gone. Instead, standing several feet away stood Angelus, infuriating smirk plastered on his face. "Dru fought at first...she tried to resist the loss of her guilt, her pain...," he spoke slowly, seductively as he walked over to where Spike was in the corner. He brushed his had gently across his face and Spike shuttered. "But really what's the point? After she let go and finally lost it, she was much happier. Someone should've killed her family sooner." He laughed, Spike felt sick. Angelus grabbed Spike savagely by his hair and pulling his head back to look him directly in the face. "And unless you get with the program soon," he ground out, "someone's going to have to kill yours."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He had held her hand while she cried. Patiently, until she stopped. Just wanting her to know, he was there. He had reached out and carefully wiped the tears off her face, not wanting to move too close, not wanting to scare her away from this moment. There was something he still needed to do.
"Anya, there's still something I need to tell you," she looked up at him. And he was relieved to see that she was no longer crying.
"What it is it?," she asked in a quiet, curious voice. He swallowed, this was it.
"I - I need to tell you why I left you that day... on our wedding day."
"No Xander, you were right. That excuse quit working. And you've told me already all you can that you were sorry."
"No, not just that. I want to tell you why... I never told you why." She looked extremely curious about this. She tilted her head slightly as she studied him.
"Was it because you wanted someone better? Someone who wasn't a troll boinking, alarmingly literal, vengeance demon?"
Xander's eyes widened at her words, though they were not spoken in a mean or bitter tone. She was really curious.
"Or was it because I wasn't a hero... I mean, I try to help ... But I'm not Buffy. Or Willow even. I just... And maybe I liked money too much and was always too literal and--"
"No. This isn't about Buffy or Willow...and you being literal? Just another thing about you I love..., and hey, money ain't too bad either." He grinned, reaching out and taking her hand again and squeezing it in his own before turning more serious. "It was *nothing* to do with you."
"Yeah right... that's what they all say."
"Anya, it was about me. It was,... I was afraid."
She blinked in surprise, looking genuinely interested. "Afraid of what?"
Xander exhaled the breath he'd been holding. Looking up at the ceiling, suddenly finding it very interesting.
"Life... How things would turn out in five years, or ten...Becoming my father."
Anya's brow furrowed. He waited. Quiet permeated the room, so finally he looked up, trying to gage her reaction. She studied his face intently and he resisted the urge to squirm.
"Becoming your father?," she asked in confusion, clearly not understanding. "You mean,... you thought I was going to turn you into a clone of your father?"
Now it was Xander's turn to be confused.
"Huh?... No, no... I don't mean... It's just,..." he looked down again. Finding the words were even harder now than all those times he had practiced it in his head -- what a waste of time *that* had been. "My father...we didn't...he's not exactly a nice guy." '*Duh...*,' Xander and Anya both thought in frustration.
'Way to go with the understatement. Nice explaining skills there Xan...' He shut up his taunting mind and ventured another look at Anya. Her expression was open, patient.
Anya was holding back her frustration, her eagerness to understand what he meant. She knew his father was an unpleasant, selfish man who made passes at her on every occasion she had ever met him. But she still didn't understand this... She knew it was hard for him. She knew he covered things, always had and not just with her, with everybody. All his fears and insecurities hidden behind witty remarks and Xander-style humor. To reveal what was inside himself...was something so hard for him that in fact, he'd never done it...yet now he was trying, for her. She would wait there all day...even into tomorrow, if she had to.
He was relived. He could read the concern in her eyes, not judgment, not impatience, not even anger...just concern, patience, love -- he could feel it, and suddenly he found himself unable to look away, the words just spilling out..
"He's always been...a drunk, basically. He starting beating my mom when I was young...when I was six or so... Seems like forever. They would fight all the time...a lot about money, a lot about drinking, a lot about me,... and after awhile the fighting would become him hitting her. It - He just got so bad when he was drunk that sometimes he would hit me too."
Anya took an involuntary gulp of air. Her eyes wide, her heart pounding. After all her experience...she had known he was a womanizer, a rude man who often fought with his wife,... but she hadn't realized how bad it was. 'I should have known... I should have recognized it.'
Xander drew in a slow breath, feeling humiliated. He'd never told anyone about this, not even Willow. Neither had his mother. They had both lived in utter silence about the incidents, even when it came to each other. It had been easier that way. Easier to pretend it never happened...until the next time.
"He always hated us," his voice was trembling now and he despised the sound of it -- but he had to do this, had to finish. "I don't know why he didn't just leave us. Run off with one of his ... women he had on the side that he didn't care that we knew about...But I guess that wouldn't have hurt enough..."
"Xander..." Anya breathed, new tears falling from her eyes now. But no longer tears for her, no longer even tears for what she had done...but tears for him, the part of him that even she had never known. "Oh Xander..."
Her voice broke him and he began to cry. "God, I wish he'd just left. Or died. I shouldn't wish that... he's my dad, no - no matter what he's done. But I hate him. I wished him dead..." Suddenly he froze, his tearful eyes wide as his head jerked up to look at Anya with a mixture of anticipation and horror, forgetting for the moment--
"It's okay, Xander," she smiled a soft, sad smile at him. "Not my job to grant wishes anymore,...remember?" Through his tears he managed a sheepish grin, feeling silly that he'd been so alarmed. After all, the loss of her powers had been the reason, in a roundabout way, for him being there in the first place. "I'm sorry...," he whispered.
"It's okay. I haven't *not* been a demon for long--"
"No. I mean about before. I should have told you..." She looked at him in surprise. The look on his face breaking her heart. She was overcome, tears spilling over, she could find no words to say. So she did the only thing she could. She flew at him giving him a fierce hug. Wrapping their arms around each other and holding on for dear life, they stayed there, and just cried.
TBC...