It Must Be Tuesday: Graduation

Disclaimer- Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and situations are owned by Joss Whedon and I believe UPN. 

Rating: PG

Special thanks to my wonderful Beta the Pie Nerd, and to all of those who reviewed this fic and asked it there was going to be more.

Monday nights, just before he'd fall asleep, Xander played a game with himself. As he would lie there on his back staring at the ceiling, and watching the lights from passing cars trail across his walls, he would imagine the absolute worst thing that could happen the next day. The way he figured it, if he aimed high (not end of the world high mind you, but close to it) then anything he would get would be at a much more manageable level. He was often shocked at how many things were much worse then anything he could dream up. 

They didn't believe him, and that was fine. For Buffy and Giles who saw a vamp a night, he supposed it was little hard to believe that Tuesdays would have any certain significance. After he had gotten over the shock of seeing the long line of them parading down his calendar, he had found that it really wasn't so bad. He was a prepared guy, the one who was always geared up for the bad stuff to happen, and ready to pull anyone he cared about out of the way when all Hell broke lose.  As time went on though, Xander found himself becoming one of the few that really needed any sort of preparation. Buffy was becoming stronger, faster, and more agile with every passing training session. Giles as a watcher was always ready, prepared for anything with his knowledge of demon cults, demon languages, demon culture, demon victims. (Was it him, or did Giles really need a hobby?) Even Willow had found her place next to Buffy, easing into magic the same way she eased into calculus problems, or advanced chemistry.  Xander had found himself very comforted at the idea that in a tight situation his Willow would have something to fall back on.

He didn't like to admit it, and sometimes was so embarrassed at the idea that he would deny that he had ever thought of it, but as those around him changed and he stayed the same Xander Harris, the Tuesdays had become more than just warnings, they had become possibilities.  In fact he'd begun to look forward to them, hoping that this would be the week that he would be shown something, anything that would give him a foothold in the group. Something besides being donut guy, or a hostage situation waiting to happen.

He wouldn't have been picky. Maybe he would pick up a useful demon language, or a nifty power. Maybe Giles would discover he could be a perfect watcher in training, and offer him a more traditional role in the fight against good and evil.  Weeks went by though, and nothing happened. Time began to pass, and he went along with it. Not kicking and screaming as most had, but in a slow shuffle at time's heals. Always waiting, always watching, receiving nothing, and in the end finally accepting that nothing was coming.  He had grown out of the idea that he might be special, grown to accept that he was the only one to be utterly normal. At least that was what he told himself as he studied the last calendar he would own as a high school student.

Graduation was tomorrow, a Tuesday of course. Big freaking shock. He wondered if the Mayor had any idea that the devil preferred to show up on Tuesdays. Or maybe he had noticed, but just didn't care. Mayors don't care about what dates things happen on, just as long as they happen. That's why they get secretaries.

He put the calendar down, and stretched out his neck and arms. They were sore from the mass amount of library cleaning out he'd done, and he groaned. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a little voice that was in the midst of a panic attack, and it shrilly reminded him that tomorrow there was a very large possibility that he might die. He ignored it though. The voice was not a new thing it just happened to be rather loud today. Besides, this fight was going to be different.

"Xander I'm going to need what ever you can remember from your army guy skills." Those were Buffy's words, the ones that he had snatched up and held on to, to repeat as needed for the past few hours. They needed him.  Tomorrow he wasn't just going to be Xander, he was going to be General Harris. Even if they all got flattened by the Mayor he would have died needed, and as he shuffled out of his jeans and pulled on a t-shirt for the night he found that he could live with that. Tuesdays be damned.