Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, etc. Even the ideas are
probably things I've read and half forgotten. Joss owns Buffy, Xander,
and crew.

Spoilers: Late season 4. If you know who Adam is, that's about all
there's going to be. There's a bit more now, but nothing too big.
Summary: Making a deal with the devil, of sorts. The final battle
against Adam, maybe? Aftermath, sort of.

Author's notes: I'd like to take a moment to personally thank each and
every one of you who read my fic. I'd like to, but there's no way I
could figure out exactly who that was ;). So I'll settle with a general
thank you. Here it goes. Thank you. There, makes you feel warm and
fuzzy down inside, doesn't it? Okay, okay, even I'm not sure how much
of that was joking and how much wasn't. Anyway, if you're spending your
valuable time reading my work, I'm flattered. Thank you. If you take
the time to write me a note about it, I'm even more flattered.

Anyway, here it goes :)

***

The next morning, I was sitting up in bed, able to move my arms, more
or less, at will. It's amazing what you take for granted in life.

Buffy came to see me again, not long after I'd eaten a few bits of
breakfast. Hospital food, yech.

She walked slowly, but she was wearing her own clothes instead of a
hospital gown (she'd had a robe on over it before) and moving with some
of the gentle grace that I so associate with her.

"Hey, Buff,"I called out happily. She smiled softly.

"Brought you something."

"What? For me?"

There was a cellophaney crinkling noise as she produced a pair of
Twinkies from her pocket.

"The least I can do, for my hero." She winked at me.

"Heh, yeah, I wonder if all heros get payed in Twinkies."

She giggled softly. "I'm sure some insist on Ho-Hos."

***

I was able to move about somewhat, but Buffy insisted on pushing me in
a wheelchair as we visited our friends, most of whom were in other parts
of the hospital.

It's perverse, I know, but I really enjoyed having her push me through
those halls. Of course, this was Buffy. I greatly enjoyed just being
near her.

My joy was short lived, however. I didn't ask Buffy who we were going
to see first, I was content to just go along for the ride.

Anya.

We rolled into her room not long after we left mine. It was on the
same hall, and I guess Buffy just assumed that I'd want to see her
first.

"Xander." She looked up, surprised, as she was putting the last of her
things into her bag. "Anya." Buffy took quick stock of the situation
and fled to the hallway. I don't know if it was because she thought we
wanted time alone or if she just didn't want to see me with someone
else. I could delude myself into thinking it was the later, but it was
almost certainly the former.

The door closed softly behind me as I rolled a little farther into the
room.

"I was just about to come see you."

"Thanks, but the doctor said I should try getting around a bit. I'm
healing fast, he said."

"And his orders called for Buffy, too?" Jealousy? I'm still not sure.

"She didn't think I should be doing a lot of walking. And she was
going to visit everyone, anyway."

"I see..." She zipped her bag up.

"So, not happy to see your boyfriend." I grinned impishly. It's a
talent.

"It's not that... I... I heard about what happened and... Xander, show
me your hand."

Puzzled, I held out my right hand, palm up.

"No, the other one."

I complied and she took it gently. I studied her face as she slowly
turned my hand over and examined the gold disk still embedded in my
wrist.

"I was afraid..." There were tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Anya?"

"Xander... I'm sorry... I have to go..." She picked up her bag and
dropped by hand. I twisted to watch her as she opened the door and
walked out, past a confused Buffy.

Buffy stared after her for a few seconds before walking back into the
room. "What's with her?"

"I don't know... but I've got a bad feeling about this..."

***

They released me the next morning.

I wasn't completely healed, but I wasn't in any real danger. That, and
my family's insurance had run out.

I was just thankful it had lasted that long. The plan wasn't very
good, but it did have a few nice perks. Namely, family members under 21
living in the same house as the policy holder were covered, which meant
me.

My mother picked me up, not looking very happy about it. She's never
been one for the whole maternal instinct thing, but that's no shock.

We didn't talk much, and the ride home passed slowly.

I'd like to say that climbing down the stairs to my basement domicile
was like coming home, and it was, but only in the sense that I was once
again going into the place where I live. Besides that, it mainly served
to heighten the feeling of unease that had been slowly growing for since
Anya had gone the day before.

It was there. I knew it would be. Well, not "knew" as in the sense of
"had any idea whatsoever", but I should have know.

Okay, I'll admit it. What had happened between Anya and I hadn't been
mad, passionate love. Sure, there was love there, I'm not heartless or
anything, it just wasn't that kind of relationship. We were comfortable
together, and the sex was great.

The letter was simple and to the point, one of Anya's main traits...
endearing sometimes, infuriating at others. She was afraid and she was
leaving me and leaving Sunnydale. She said that she cared about me, and
it hurt her, but she'd seen "this" before and knew it would end badly.

It'd have been nice if she had told me what "this" was.

I reread it a few times, trying to decide if I felt like crying.

No, not really. I'd known it was only a matter of time before she
dumped me. Self-esteem issues, much? That's me.

*RING*

"Xander, it's for you!"

"Hello?"

"Xander..."

"Buffy?"

"Yeah... I was hoping you'd be home."

"You caught me on the way out the door, I'm just about to run a
marathon."

"Funny..."

"What's wrong, Buff, you seem... off."

"Xander will you... tonight is..."

I'd forgotten about that. It was three nights ago that Riley died, the
funeral would be tonight.

"Yeah, I'll go with you."

"Thank you." Her voice was full of relief.

This was going to be awkward.

***

I'll admit it, I'm not a suit guy.

I look good in one, I just tend to associate wearing one with being
uncomfortable. Like I was now.

Buffy clung to my arm and leaned against my shoulder. Tears flowed
gently down her cheeks, through her closed eyelids, as one of Riley's
friends gave the eulogy. I think his name was Forrest or something.

The casket was closed.

Of course, I thought, that's because Riley isn't in the casket.

Don't get me wrong, I knew he was dead. There's no doubt in my mind
about that fact, but I also remember a good deal of military procedure.

Riley was, no doubt, going to be given a second funeral. A real,
military funeral, back in Iowa.

I didn't think knowing that would have helped Buffy cope, so I didn't
mention it.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. I don't remember what happened
after the service or how we ended up sitting in one of Sunnydale's
cemeteries under the full moon.

Sometimes, things just happen.

I held her gently as she cried. I'm sure she blamed herself for his
death.

After he cheated on her with... well, her, Buffy had been putting
distance between them. I don't think it was because she was angry with
him, but it probably dealt more with her life as a slayer reaching out
to harm those near her.

He'd tried his best to make it up to her, thinking it was the incident
that upset her though she repeatedly denied it. He tried and tried...
and finally died trying to prove himself to her.

I know people call her selfish. Hell, I've even called her that a few
times, myself, but it's not really true. Sure, she mopes about and
blames herself when things go wrong, but it's because she cares so much
about people, not because she cares so much about herself.

After all, it's not paranoia if the world really is out to get you.

In any case, Riley chose his own path. He died fighting the good
fight, and that had to rank high on the list of things that get you into
heaven. Or whatever the positive afterlife is.

Why were we in the cemetery?

Good question. I wish I knew the answer. After we left the funeral,
we'd wandered a bit, leaning on each other for support. I needed it
physically, and we both needed it emotionally.

Finally we'd taken a seat on one of the large, familiar, stones and
rested, holding onto each other tightly.

It's amazing how many good memories I have of cemeteries. Other kinds
of memories, too, if I want to think about it.

I don't know why it happened the way it did. Perhaps some higher power
was having a laugh at our expense, or maybe it was fate. Perhaps it was
just one of those freakish series of events that no one can explain.
Whatever it was, it wasn't logical.

I told her that Anya dumped me. She didn't seem upset by it. None of
my friends had ever really loved Anya, though they didn't hate her,
either.

Sometime around then, the vamps appeared. Two of them, leftovers from
Adam's gang bent on revenge.

Buffy stood up angrily as they approached and pulled a stake from her
purse.

"You stay put." She told me, obviously thinking me too injured to
fight. Or maybe she was just forgetting that I'd changed.

In any case, I didn't stay put. Somehow, the dull pain I'd been in all
evening faded at the mere thought of battle and I could feel new energy
pulsing through me.

The battle was long, far longer than it needed to be. Even though they
were young and unskilled, the vamps were strong, really strong. Adam's
cult had learned to ignore their own pain and even death in order to
fulfill their purpose. Tonight that seemed to be, killing us.

I didn't touch the disk on my wrist, not wanting to hear the infernal
singing of the blade. I still have nightmares about that song.

To my horror, I found that it sang anyway. It was faint, but I could
feel it in my bones as I fought, hand to hand, with the vampire.

Soon, I started to sing along, against my will, more or less, as we
dueled.

Time and time again, I didn't take a quick kill. Openings that even an
armature could have pounced on went by unexploited. I know it sounds
odd, but I wanted to fight until I forgot about Anya, Riley, and
everything. Becoming one with the song of battle.

Finally, it was over. The vamp didn't offer any more challenge, having
grown weak and weary from the beating I was administering.

Plunge and move on.

We finished like dancers. My vamp backed into Buffy's and stopped
suddenly, his back against something resisting. Buffy drove her stake
cleanly through the both of them, creating a dual dust storm.

I'd stopped singing as soon as I felt the end game upon us, but my lips
twisted into a small smile now. That had been fun.

Buffy looked at me, and I could read the same feeling in her eyes.
She'd projected her anger, frustration, and regret onto the vampire and
beaten it soundly. Slaying it.

She smiled back at me, no longer depressed.

It's amazing how therapists never tell their patients "Go kill a few
vampires and you'll feel better." Of course, I suppose most people who
have therapists would die trying.

That thought flittered across my mind before I realized that Buffy had
stepped in and wrapped her arms around my neck.

I watched, fascinated, as she leaned in and kissed me, slowly and
deliberately. It was like a dream. A very good dream.

I'm not sure if I'd felt that way if I'd been able to see my hands.
The blood of the vamp I'd been fighting was all over my knuckles for a
few seconds after the it was over, and, slowly, it seeped into my skin.
At least, I assume it happened then, too. I've seen it many times
since.