Title: Dénouement
Rating: PG
Author: Jen
Summary: Andrew wonders how it will go.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; don't know them, not getting anything from this.
*****
Sunlight stripes in through the window, making sparkles in the middle of the
living room. The chants and shouts from the girls' training session filter
faintly in from the garden, offset by the occasional whoosh of a car on the
road outside. It's a rare moment of stillness in the Summers house.
He looks up from his book
just as Xander breezes in from the kitchen, the plate in his hand piled with
sandwiches. Xander offers a half-smile of acknowledgement and, after a moment's
indecision, joins him on the couch. The plate is proffered to him: he shakes
his head, but smiles a 'thank you'.
They sit in comfortable
silence for a while, simply enjoying the peace. He tries to concentrate on his
book, but after staring at it all day, the spidery words are giving up and
crawling over each other, losing all sense.
When Xander has finished
his first sandwich, he cocks his head thoughtfully and after a moment, murmurs,
"this is nice."
He 'uh-huh's an agreement,
deciding the book is a waste of time now and closing it up with a small sigh.
"You know, a female-free
house for the first time this apocalypse," Xander continues, though the
explanation is not necessary. Xander is sitting with him on the couch: that's
all the nice he needs. He breathes a small laugh, encouraging and
understanding. Sometimes the girl-power thing gets a bit overwhelming. "I think
I'm overdue for a little guy time." Xander turns and looks straight at him.
"Know what I mean?"
No, it wouldn't be like that. That was just too easy. Heck, that was pretty
much the start of a bad porno. The scenario was okay: he liked the idea of the
shafts of sunlight in the empty room, and Xander wandering in to get away from
the girls, but…but the dialogue was all wrong.
When Xander has finished his first sandwich, he cocks his head thoughtfully
and after a moment, murmurs, "this is nice."
He 'uh-huh's an agreement,
deciding the book is a waste of time now and closing it up with a small sigh.
"You know, a female-free
house." He chuckles in sympathy, and Xander joins in. It's a pleasing sound, so
different from the ones that fill the house when the potentials and Buffy are
inside. He wonders if he should say so to Xander.
"It's relaxing," he says
instead, because it's safer and less likely to scare Xander back into the
kitchen. "Maybe the potentials ought to be taking time out like this, then
they're not so stressed all the time."
"No," Xander protests,
maybe just a little too quickly. "Potentials relaxing means house full of women
again. Right now, this is my space and they can't have it!" Xander gestures to
the room in general and mock-pouts for effect. "Well, our space, I guess."
He smiles, because he's
hardly ever included in anything anymore.
"Thank you, Xander."
Xander smiles back, but it
seems kind of nervous and hesitant. The overall effect is very endearing,
especially when Xander looks down at the bit of couch between them.
"You know - "
The sunlight dissolved into post-midnight darkness. It was useless. He never
seemed able to shift things beyond that moment. That one moment of odd silence
on the couch that called for one thrillingly clever line, either from him or
from Xander, that would set things moving.
Maybe it just wasn't going to
happen that way. After all, what were the odds of the house being empty and
quiet in the middle of the day?
He shifted a little in his
sleeping bag, wondering if he'd ever get used to its claustrophobic
envelopment.
Maybe nighttime would be
better. At least then everyone would be asleep, and that would be almost like
being alone.
The sleeping bag is oppressively
hot, and swishes as he tries to loosen his arms and sit up. He wonders if he
really did cry out, or if that was just part of the dream.
Across the room there is a
low moan, and someone mumbles indistinctly. Perhaps he did scream, and woke up
one of the potentials. That would not be good. He waits anxiously for whoever
it is to yell at him to go back to sleep.
"Andrew?" The voice is far
too deep for a girl, and he realises in shame that he has woken Xander. He is
used to insults from the girls, but somehow cannot stand the thought that
Xander will be mad at him.
He can barely make out the
shape of the man who has fallen asleep on Buffy's couch, but there is just
enough light for him to see that Xander is sitting up, pushing aside his
blanket.
"What's wrong?" Because
Xander is the heart, after all. While Buffy fights and Willow knows stuff, and
Dawn researches everything else, Xander is the one who cares and tries to keep
the peace and make things better. It makes sense that Xander would ask that instead
of telling him to shut the hell up and go back to sleep.
He mumbles something (unsure of the exact words right then, but they could
be worked out later) about a dream, and about Jonathan, and that's all he
can manage before he's tearing up. He doesn't have to be ashamed, because they
all know he is in mourning for his best friend and that will make it okay for
him to cry in front of Xander.
Because when he does,
Xander gets up off the couch and suddenly is kneeling beside him, rubbing his
back as he works through the sobs. Xander is not ashamed to do this either,
because it is the middle of the night and there is no one around to see them.
He is the one who leans
into Xander, forehead on his chest as he recalls the dream in a stream of
incoherent babble about what he saw and what he did and what he heard. Somehow,
leaning against Xander's solid and unresisting body is reassuring, and he does
not complain when Xander holds him still through a coughing fit. His arm stays
there even when Andrew is still, and when the tears and the sobs have subsided,
he looks up into Xander's face and sees –
- a great big wuss who got
scared by a dream. No. That one would not work. He definitely did not want
Xander to think he was a useless lump who needed comforting like a girl. It
would have to be something impressive. Like a battle, maybe, and -
- and he ducks aside as the Bringer lunges at him, barely missing. Around
the room, Buffy and the other potentials are completely oblivious to him as
they each fight their own battle, and he guesses they know he is holding his
own. They might even congratulate him for it when this is over. He sidesteps
another swing, but somehow his foot lands wrong, pain shooting from his ankle
and leaving him unable to get out of the way as the Bringer moves in again. He
is caught a punishing blow to the head which makes the room go fuzzy and sends
him to his knees.
When his vision clears, he
looks up to locate his attacker, and cannot believe what he sees. Xander has
appeared out of nowhere and is fending off the Bringer himself. He is
startlingly impressive with the sword, but somehow the Bringer gets in a cheap
shot which brings Xander down, and the sword clatters to the floor right next
to Andrew.
There is no hesitation.
Xander is in dire need of assistance, and there is no one else around who can
provide it.
He snatches up the sword
and, before the Bringer even knows he is there, he is on his feet and swinging
it around in a neat arc that cleaves its head cleanly from its body.
He doubles over, breathing
hard, hands on his knees. There are no Bringers left alive in the room, and
everyone else is dusting themselves off and catching their breath. After a
moment, he turns and reaches out to help Xander to his feet. Their hands remain
clasped as they each break into thankful smiles, uttering in unison, "you saved
me…"
No, no, no. It just wasn't working. It wasn't right. He simply could not figure
out how it would happen.
There was just that
unshakable sense that it would happen, should happen. He just didn't know how.
Andrew heaved a dramatic sigh
and rolled over until his back was pressed against the skirting board. He
ignored the discomfort, trying instead to focus on the sleeping bag wrapped
around him, on the feeling of being enveloped. Tried to forget the plot, and
focus on the dénouement.
He has two strong arms surrounding him, Xander's chest against his back, and
he is happy. It's hard to describe exactly how they got here, but they did, and
that's what counts.
*****