Xander stands at his bedroom window, watching the world pass him by. The phone rings and he starts, the deafening silence from the past twenty four hours broken, and he moves over to sprawl on the bed, picking up the telephone receiver in the process. "Hello?" he says flatly, his tone as miserable and depressed as he feels.

"Hi, it's me," Cordelia's voice resonates from the other end of the phone line, as happy and bright as ever.

"Cordy," he says, trying to force a smile, knowing she can probably sense the hesitance. "How have you been?"

"Me?" she asks incredulously, being the sweet girlfriend she always was when no one else was around. "Don't worry about me, silly. It's you and Willow that we've all been worried about. I know the hospital gave you the all clear, but I hardly had a chance to speak to you last night."

"I was pretty tired," he says feebly. "A lot happened last night."

"I know," she says softly. "That's why I'm gonna come over and spoil you."

"Cor…" he starts.

"It's okay," she interrupts. "I've been to the video store to rent some movies that I know you like, and I've gotten all of your favourite snack foods that I'm going to personally feed you by hand."

"Look, Cordelia, it's good that you're coming over," he tells her. "I wanted to speak to you about something."

"Well, I'll be over in a while. I'm on my way," she chirps, before hanging up the phone.

Great, Xander thinks to himself sarcastically. She has to go and play Super Girlfriend on the day that I have to break up with her. This is perfect! He's not really angry at her, though. He's angry at himself. After all the years of verbal sparring matches with the girl, Cordelia Chase was now his girlfriend, something he would never have imagined in a million years. For all of her bravado, she really was a nice person, and that's what made what he was about to do all the worse. But he did have to do it. He had betrayed her in the worst possible way – not that there was ever a good type of betrayal. He knew that Cordelia cared for him more than she ever let on to anyone, just as he did. Sure, their relationship had started out on a purely physical level, but it had grown deeper over the time that they had spent together, and it had taken a while, but they realised that they were actually pretty good together. She had made him feel better about himself when the daily rigour of his parent's arguments had gotten to him, and she made it a little more pleasant for him to show up at school in a morning. She was his rock when it felt like he had lost everyone else in his life. But after last night…things were never going to be the same again.

I'm an asshole, he thinks to himself. A selfish, arrogant, cheating asshole! He has to take a few breaths to calm himself, try to ease the rage that he feels inside of himself for doing this. He knew before last night that the feelings he had for Willow went way beyond what he should be feeling for someone who was only supposed to be his best friend, and she'd hardly even been that since the night at the hospital… He closes his eyes, blinking away the reminder of that night. He'd been so afraid to lose her that he'd been forced to confront all of those underlying jealousies and insecurities he had felt ever since Oz had appeared on the scene. Of course, he hadn't actually related the two until recently. When she had called for Oz, he had felt like a train had hit him, but he could deal with that because she was okay. She was safe. The summer that followed gave him plenty of time to perfect that nonchalant attitude he needed around his slaying buddies, and life went on with him burying his feelings deep inside once again. But something happened that night before Homecoming. Something that had stirred inside of him that he never even knew existed, making him feel things when his lips touched hers that refused to fade away. He knew he had loved Willow the best friend, but when she was in front of him in that dress, he fell in love with Willow the woman, as clichéd as that sounded.

He glances to his side, seeing a group photograph on his nightstand that was taken just after Buffy had gotten back from L.A., and he feels the guilt coming back again, especially when he sees Oz in the shot, his arm around Willow. The guy doesn't deserve this, he thinks to himself, and he means it. He knows that he was jealous when he first entered their world, and his trademark werewolf jokes usually poked fun at him in some way or another, but he had to respect the guy for the way he treated Willow. He knows Oz thinks of her as the centre of his universe, and he knows what that's like. He seemed to be good for her, and if he was good enough for Willow to like him back, he must have something good in him. But he also resents him in a purely selfish way. He thinks he's the reason why he and Willow had drifted so far apart, even though he knows this isn't fair. He doesn't begrudge Willow her happiness. He just can't handle it when he isn't a part of it.

He stands and moves towards the window again, tripping over a stray sweater on the floor, and he picks it up, balls it up and throws it at the wall in frustration, not getting anywhere near the physical release he had been hoping for. Then he does something completely out of character: he picks up the discarded sweater and places it in the dirty clothes hamper next to his door. He looks around the room, hoping for something, anything, to take his mind off what he's feeling and thinking. He moves around the room, picking up all the clothes he can find and makes an overflowing pile on his bed as he moves, finding a stray plate or two. He decides he's not that desperate to discard those just yet, even though they seem to have developed new life forms on the few leftover crumbs that he can't even hazard a guess as what they used to be. Removing those would mean a trip downstairs into the kitchen, his parent's favourite hangout next to the TV, due to the fact that they had easy access to the refrigerator. He slides them back under the bed and looks down at the rug, absently wondering where the hell it had come from since he didn't remember ever seeing it before, and looks at the pile of clothing on his bed. He had intended to sort through them, seeing as some of it was the laundry he had brought up earlier, but decides against it, just taking the pile in both arms and dumping it in the hamper. He congratulates himself when he realises he can actually walk across the room without getting his foot caught in a pair of boxers and that he hadn't thought of Cordelia, Oz or Willow in the past few moments. Then it all comes back to bite him in the ass. It's not like a clean room is suddenly going to make it easier to break up with someone. And that's what he has to do, he realises for the first time. He'd been focussing on the one fact that he had to break to her – that he had slept with Willow – and he had just automatically stopped thinking at that point. Even if Cordelia decided she could forgive him – which he never in a million years thinks she would – he couldn't be with her.

Then it hits him again: I had sex.

With Willow.

Everything else seems to pale in comparison to that one thought as he feels that slow smile spread onto his face, regardless of the guilt he's feeling.

He moves to sit on his now-free bed and puts his head in his hands, cursing at himself in his head. He's angry. So angry at himself for so many things. He's angry for being oblivious to Willow for all of those years. He's angry for not being oblivious anymore, and causing so much hurt to people he cares about. He's angry that he still hasn't returned the tux borrowed from his cousin, Rigby, because it still has some of Willow's scent on it amongst the smell of stale smoke and the fearful sweat he had broken out in when he had heard Buffy's comment about not upsetting Cordy. He was angry that he hadn't been able to listen to the radio or watch the TV all day because everything reminded him of Willow. He was angry that, since their indiscretions, he wasn't even able to walk into the library or the science lab without constant reminders of what it was like to touch her assaulting him. But, most of all, he was angry because he was afraid. He was afraid that Willow would give him her heart and that he would break it, not on purpose and not because he wants to, but because he's Xander, and he's afraid that he's not good enough for her, that he's not enough for her.

When he had held her in his arms last night, he had felt total peace, and it felt like they were the only two people in the world. He had never expected what had happened and he knows that he should regret it, but he can't. He knows he's never going to feel anything that even comes close to how right he felt last night with anyone else. He remembers that there were no words, no 'I love you's, because they hadn't needed them. They had looked into each others eyes and felt it, known what the other was thinking instinctively. They had only had a few minutes to lie in each others arms before they had heard the distinct Desoto car engine starting up and revving away, the sound of the gravel underneath the tyres unbelievably loud, and they had guessed that Buffy was on her way if Spike was leaving so abruptly. By the time Buffy had gotten to them a few minutes later with Angel in tow, they were both fully dressed again, with Buffy none the wiser as she and Angel escorted them to the hospital to have them checked over. When he and Willow had parted company, again they hadn't said a word, just shared a chaste hug among their unsuspecting friends that spoke volumes to them both.

He knows that when Cordelia arrives, he's going to have to tell her that the one thing she always quietly suspected of him and Willow was true. And he could probably excuse his behaviour to a certain extent – not that she'd listen – but the fact was that there just weren't enough in the world to excuse his behaviour. He had done the wrong thing, he knows this, but to him it feels like the best thing he's ever done. Despite the wrongness of the situation, he knows he loves Willow whole-heartedly and, even if last night had never happened, he'd still be in the same situation now.

He hears the familiar Queen C Mobile car engine outside and he moves to his bedroom window. He looks out and sees her exiting the car with two shopping bags and he steels himself. He feels his heart racing with nervous adrenalin, and his hands become clammy as he heads out of the bedroom and down the stairs to meet her. Suddenly wondering who came up with the phrase 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' comes from, he thinks, and wonders if they had ever met Cordelia Chase.

To be continued…