Getting Off The Griefmobile
By Annakovsky
See part 1 for all relevant info and disclaimer.
***********
CHAPTER TWO
***********
Xander put a hammock up in the backyard, which he went to when he wanted to be alone. Which was fairly often. He didn't know it, but the others were a little worried about him – he alternated between almost frantically telling jokes and being very, very quiet. He hadn't noticed this himself.
One day in July he was out in the hammock staring up at the underside of the leaves and the blue sky behind them and thinking about death.
Suddenly someone gave the hammock a big swing and his whole body spasmed in surprise as he tried to keep his balance. He went to yell at whoever was interrupting his private time, but when he saw that it was Willow, he remembered. When they were kids they used to sneak up on Jesse when he was in the hammock at his house and try to swing it before he noticed them, 'cause he would really freak. Remembering made him smile for a split-second before it triggered the memory of Jesse exploding into dust in front of him.
Willow must have gone through the same mental sequence, because her face fell at the exact same moment it hit him. Willow, the sole co-keeper of his childhood memories. She looked tentative now.
"Hey," he said, and tried to smile.
"Hey. Sorry."
"S'okay. You want to join me?" He moved over in the hammock to make space.
"Yeah," she said, getting in next to him. The hammock squished them together, and Xander adjusted his position so they'd fit more comfortably. Willow leaned her head on his shoulder and curled up beside him. He was aware of her boobies pressing into his side. Just Willow, he thought to himself. Best friend forever, currently lesbian, regular ol' standard issue Willow. Nothing to get excited about.
"So, is what you're doing out here good staring or bad staring?" she asked.
"Just your average one-eyed staring," he said wryly. Neither of them laughed. Instead they just lay there for a bit, comfortably. Willow felt reassuringly alive and warm and solid – her head was making his right arm fall asleep. He could almost pretend that they were eight years old again and lying in her backyard looking for shapes in the clouds. He always saw fire-engines. Willow never saw the same thing twice.
"You're not doing so good, huh?" Willow said finally. He didn't say anything. Suddenly it felt like there was a weight on his chest that he needed to be very still to avoid disturbing, because otherwise it would collapse and crush him. Willow just waited out the pause, though.
"I'm okay," he said finally. That one cloud looked like Krusty the Clown, and the one beside it looked like a knife. No, like a popsicle. Not a knife.
"Right, Xander," Willow said. "You're just peachy." He stared harder at the clouds. A plane was tracing a line very high up. "You thinking about Anya?" she asked after a second. Of course, Anya was the one thing he was determinedly not thinking about. He was spending most of his time not thinking about her, in fact. It was kind of a full time thing.
"I don't think I'm ever going to date again," he said eventually. It was a way to sidestep the subject, since he had realized Willow was prepared to wait him out indefinitely. "Either I get them killed or they try to kill me. It's hazardous."
"Xander..."
"No, seriously." Words started pouring out of him. "Does it ever worry you? I mean, who are we going to meet? The only people we ever date are all in the demon-killing or demon–being business, and that just never works out well. For instance - Buffy: two vamps and a soldier in an undercover demon-killing unit. You: a werewolf, fellow witch and a Slayer. Me: Cordelia, who in high school practically qualified as a demon and who spent time this year as a higher being, an ex-vengeance demon, and, hey, I lost my virginity to a Slayer."
"Yeah... I cried after I found out about you and Faith, by the way."
"You did?" Xander turned to look at her, surprised. Then he gave a wry smile. "Well, I think I cried after me and Faith too. Not the most fulfilling experience of my life. Which is my point. Dating and me, not good. No more."
"Oh, c'mon... I mean, yeah, but I dunno, Xander, we'll meet people. Things will be okay."
"Maybe," he said. "But I don't even want to bother going through that whole getting to know someone thing again. Like, 'And then I left my fiancée at the altar, but we were probably going to get back together when she was brutally killed in the apocalypse and our whole town collapsed into a crater. You may have seen it on Dateline... more beer nuts?' I mean, it's... tiring. To even think about."
"I know what you mean," she said. They looked up at the clouds in silence for awhile.
"Look, it's Principal Snyder," Willow said, pointing up at a cloud that really bore a creepily striking resemblance. They watched it float dreamily across the sky.
"I kind of miss Sunnydale," Xander said after a minute. "Is that stupid? I miss the Bronze and the way all the alleys looked the same, and I even miss the cemeteries. I miss Louisa Jefferson, 1898-1961, with that ugly-ass angel on top, you know?"
"That angel gave me the creeps. It always looked like it was watching you."
"Yeah, no kidding. But it bothers me that it's gone."
After a second, Willow lifted herself up and kissed him on the cheek.
"I love you, Xander," she said, before settling herself back down onto his shoulder. This surprised him enough that it threw off his automated joke-everything-off response and he didn't say anything at all for a few seconds. The place where her lips touched felt warm and happy, like the cells in his cheek were doing a little joyful Snoopy dance.
"I love you, too," he said finally. Loving Willow was the one certainty in a world where, one by one, schools and towns and lives kept collapsing.
*********************
TBC...
By Annakovsky
See part 1 for all relevant info and disclaimer.
***********
CHAPTER TWO
***********
Xander put a hammock up in the backyard, which he went to when he wanted to be alone. Which was fairly often. He didn't know it, but the others were a little worried about him – he alternated between almost frantically telling jokes and being very, very quiet. He hadn't noticed this himself.
One day in July he was out in the hammock staring up at the underside of the leaves and the blue sky behind them and thinking about death.
Suddenly someone gave the hammock a big swing and his whole body spasmed in surprise as he tried to keep his balance. He went to yell at whoever was interrupting his private time, but when he saw that it was Willow, he remembered. When they were kids they used to sneak up on Jesse when he was in the hammock at his house and try to swing it before he noticed them, 'cause he would really freak. Remembering made him smile for a split-second before it triggered the memory of Jesse exploding into dust in front of him.
Willow must have gone through the same mental sequence, because her face fell at the exact same moment it hit him. Willow, the sole co-keeper of his childhood memories. She looked tentative now.
"Hey," he said, and tried to smile.
"Hey. Sorry."
"S'okay. You want to join me?" He moved over in the hammock to make space.
"Yeah," she said, getting in next to him. The hammock squished them together, and Xander adjusted his position so they'd fit more comfortably. Willow leaned her head on his shoulder and curled up beside him. He was aware of her boobies pressing into his side. Just Willow, he thought to himself. Best friend forever, currently lesbian, regular ol' standard issue Willow. Nothing to get excited about.
"So, is what you're doing out here good staring or bad staring?" she asked.
"Just your average one-eyed staring," he said wryly. Neither of them laughed. Instead they just lay there for a bit, comfortably. Willow felt reassuringly alive and warm and solid – her head was making his right arm fall asleep. He could almost pretend that they were eight years old again and lying in her backyard looking for shapes in the clouds. He always saw fire-engines. Willow never saw the same thing twice.
"You're not doing so good, huh?" Willow said finally. He didn't say anything. Suddenly it felt like there was a weight on his chest that he needed to be very still to avoid disturbing, because otherwise it would collapse and crush him. Willow just waited out the pause, though.
"I'm okay," he said finally. That one cloud looked like Krusty the Clown, and the one beside it looked like a knife. No, like a popsicle. Not a knife.
"Right, Xander," Willow said. "You're just peachy." He stared harder at the clouds. A plane was tracing a line very high up. "You thinking about Anya?" she asked after a second. Of course, Anya was the one thing he was determinedly not thinking about. He was spending most of his time not thinking about her, in fact. It was kind of a full time thing.
"I don't think I'm ever going to date again," he said eventually. It was a way to sidestep the subject, since he had realized Willow was prepared to wait him out indefinitely. "Either I get them killed or they try to kill me. It's hazardous."
"Xander..."
"No, seriously." Words started pouring out of him. "Does it ever worry you? I mean, who are we going to meet? The only people we ever date are all in the demon-killing or demon–being business, and that just never works out well. For instance - Buffy: two vamps and a soldier in an undercover demon-killing unit. You: a werewolf, fellow witch and a Slayer. Me: Cordelia, who in high school practically qualified as a demon and who spent time this year as a higher being, an ex-vengeance demon, and, hey, I lost my virginity to a Slayer."
"Yeah... I cried after I found out about you and Faith, by the way."
"You did?" Xander turned to look at her, surprised. Then he gave a wry smile. "Well, I think I cried after me and Faith too. Not the most fulfilling experience of my life. Which is my point. Dating and me, not good. No more."
"Oh, c'mon... I mean, yeah, but I dunno, Xander, we'll meet people. Things will be okay."
"Maybe," he said. "But I don't even want to bother going through that whole getting to know someone thing again. Like, 'And then I left my fiancée at the altar, but we were probably going to get back together when she was brutally killed in the apocalypse and our whole town collapsed into a crater. You may have seen it on Dateline... more beer nuts?' I mean, it's... tiring. To even think about."
"I know what you mean," she said. They looked up at the clouds in silence for awhile.
"Look, it's Principal Snyder," Willow said, pointing up at a cloud that really bore a creepily striking resemblance. They watched it float dreamily across the sky.
"I kind of miss Sunnydale," Xander said after a minute. "Is that stupid? I miss the Bronze and the way all the alleys looked the same, and I even miss the cemeteries. I miss Louisa Jefferson, 1898-1961, with that ugly-ass angel on top, you know?"
"That angel gave me the creeps. It always looked like it was watching you."
"Yeah, no kidding. But it bothers me that it's gone."
After a second, Willow lifted herself up and kissed him on the cheek.
"I love you, Xander," she said, before settling herself back down onto his shoulder. This surprised him enough that it threw off his automated joke-everything-off response and he didn't say anything at all for a few seconds. The place where her lips touched felt warm and happy, like the cells in his cheek were doing a little joyful Snoopy dance.
"I love you, too," he said finally. Loving Willow was the one certainty in a world where, one by one, schools and towns and lives kept collapsing.
*********************
TBC...