Getting Off The Griefmobile
By Annakovsky
See part 1 for all relevant info and disclaimer.
***********
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
***********
Xander knocked on Willow's door in the afternoon, slipping inside when he heard her listlessly tell him to come in. She was curled up on the window seat in her bedroom, making her body as small as possible and watching the rain coming down outside. She didn't look up.
"Faith just called back," he told her, shutting the door behind him. "Giles is okay, the temporary cure thing worked."
"Oh," Willow said, obviously trying to be cheery and failing miserably. "That's good, that's really good." Xander looked at her, hard.
"Will, you're crying," he said.
"I'm not crying," she said, her voice thick. "It's just, um, sympathy rain."
He looked at her for a minute before his face softened and he smiled ruefully. "Boy, why are you crying?" he asked in an affected, stage-y voice. Willow laughed through her tears. He was quoting Wendy from the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan, which they had watched over and over again when they were five. From the part where Peter's lost his shadow and can't get it to stick to him again.
"I have the opposite problem," she said, smiling painfully. "My shadow sticks too close. Or else I'm the shadow and I've lost the rest of me." Tears were rolling down her face.
"Scoot," Xander said, motioning for her to move up on the seat. She did and he slid in behind her, so she was leaning back against his chest. "What happened?" he asked, putting his arm around her.
"I just... I was sort of horrible to Faith on the phone," she said, sniffling. "I didn't mean to be. It's just that I *am* horrible."
"Willow," he said.
"I am!" she said. "I'm mean-spirited and I tried to kill everyone and I..." she burst into a fresh surge of tears.
Xander rocked her slightly, her clutching his arm. "Silly girl," he murmured. "You were trying to stick it on with soap?" Still quoting Peter Pan, even though he had never exactly understood that part. She just cried and cried.
Xander remembered being a little kid, sitting cross-legged on the green shag rug in Willow's family room and singing along with Mary Martin about how they didn't want to grow up. Remembered the taste of animal crackers and the way Willow's house smelled, like furniture polish and books, and the look of the little red-headed girl sitting next to him. He held her tighter.
"Can you find the rest of me and sew it back on?" she asked finally, barely getting the words out.
"You're still you, Willow," he said. "All of you is here."
"No, I'm not, I'm lost," she said, her voice small and alone, pressed out through a layer of tears.
He held her against his chest, still rocking gently. She was holding onto his hand, playing with his fingers, threading hers through them. He kissed the back of her head. "You're right here," he said softly.
He held her until her breathing steadied and she leaned against him limply, tired. They sat quietly like that for awhile.
"I love you, Xander," she said after a bit, her voice rough and tentative. Something about the way she said it made his heart leap.
"In what sense?" he asked after a second, his voice unsteady.
"All of them," she said. Then she was turning to face him, and then kissing him, and Xander remembered incongruously that the first time they had ever kissed had been in front of Peter Pan, when he gave her a big sloppy wet kiss on the cheek to distract her so he could steal some of her Nilla Wafers.
This kiss wasn't sloppy at all. It was older and wiser and sadder and somehow still them – somehow the little boy and girl on the shag carpet merged into the nerdy high school girl in the dress her mom picked out and the dorky high school boy with his dark hair falling haphazardly over his forehead and those two sixteen year olds merged into the two of them now, adults with shorter hair and sadder eyes, with deaths and evils and heartaches that only they understood. They kissed like the only two refugees from a sunken ship, like the last two survivors in a nuclear winter, like two people whose whole town had disappeared into a crater. And at the same time like five year olds who loved each other more than anyone else.
Xander pulled back to catch his breath and leaned his forehead against hers. "So... this kissing thing... is gonna be, like, a thing?" he asked, very inarticulately.
"Looks that way," she replied.
"Huh," he said, and kissed her again. Funny how easily they fitted together, like they'd been kissing for years. Like home. Except... a home with kissing. And funny how it made him incoherent even inside his own head.
They were still kissing fifteen minutes later, when Dawn yelled that dinner was ready. Holding hands, they went downstairs, smiling sheepishly when they saw Buffy. She looked at their joined hands and beamed at them, a bright Buffy smile they hadn't seen nearly enough of in the past few years.
"You're holding hands," Andrew said, sounding confused. Always Captain Obvious. Then he looked like he'd just remembered something, his eyes lighting up. "Bond girl," he said, nodding knowingly at Xander. Willow, Dawn and Buffy all looked confused.
"You don't want to know," Xander said, moving to sit down at the table. They all settled around it, passing food around the warm circle of light over the table. Everyone kept shooting him and Willow little happy looks, but seemed shy about bringing it up.
"Hey Dawn, how was that movie you guys saw this afternoon?" Xander asked her, wanting to be normal about it.
"Oh my gosh, it was totally great," Dawn said. "I want to start a band now. Andrew's going to play drums."
"Don't you need, like, musical talent to start a band?" Buffy asked dryly. And they were off, everyone talking at once in a big happy jumble.
Xander grinned at Willow across the table. And she grinned back.
******
TBC...
******
By Annakovsky
See part 1 for all relevant info and disclaimer.
***********
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
***********
Xander knocked on Willow's door in the afternoon, slipping inside when he heard her listlessly tell him to come in. She was curled up on the window seat in her bedroom, making her body as small as possible and watching the rain coming down outside. She didn't look up.
"Faith just called back," he told her, shutting the door behind him. "Giles is okay, the temporary cure thing worked."
"Oh," Willow said, obviously trying to be cheery and failing miserably. "That's good, that's really good." Xander looked at her, hard.
"Will, you're crying," he said.
"I'm not crying," she said, her voice thick. "It's just, um, sympathy rain."
He looked at her for a minute before his face softened and he smiled ruefully. "Boy, why are you crying?" he asked in an affected, stage-y voice. Willow laughed through her tears. He was quoting Wendy from the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan, which they had watched over and over again when they were five. From the part where Peter's lost his shadow and can't get it to stick to him again.
"I have the opposite problem," she said, smiling painfully. "My shadow sticks too close. Or else I'm the shadow and I've lost the rest of me." Tears were rolling down her face.
"Scoot," Xander said, motioning for her to move up on the seat. She did and he slid in behind her, so she was leaning back against his chest. "What happened?" he asked, putting his arm around her.
"I just... I was sort of horrible to Faith on the phone," she said, sniffling. "I didn't mean to be. It's just that I *am* horrible."
"Willow," he said.
"I am!" she said. "I'm mean-spirited and I tried to kill everyone and I..." she burst into a fresh surge of tears.
Xander rocked her slightly, her clutching his arm. "Silly girl," he murmured. "You were trying to stick it on with soap?" Still quoting Peter Pan, even though he had never exactly understood that part. She just cried and cried.
Xander remembered being a little kid, sitting cross-legged on the green shag rug in Willow's family room and singing along with Mary Martin about how they didn't want to grow up. Remembered the taste of animal crackers and the way Willow's house smelled, like furniture polish and books, and the look of the little red-headed girl sitting next to him. He held her tighter.
"Can you find the rest of me and sew it back on?" she asked finally, barely getting the words out.
"You're still you, Willow," he said. "All of you is here."
"No, I'm not, I'm lost," she said, her voice small and alone, pressed out through a layer of tears.
He held her against his chest, still rocking gently. She was holding onto his hand, playing with his fingers, threading hers through them. He kissed the back of her head. "You're right here," he said softly.
He held her until her breathing steadied and she leaned against him limply, tired. They sat quietly like that for awhile.
"I love you, Xander," she said after a bit, her voice rough and tentative. Something about the way she said it made his heart leap.
"In what sense?" he asked after a second, his voice unsteady.
"All of them," she said. Then she was turning to face him, and then kissing him, and Xander remembered incongruously that the first time they had ever kissed had been in front of Peter Pan, when he gave her a big sloppy wet kiss on the cheek to distract her so he could steal some of her Nilla Wafers.
This kiss wasn't sloppy at all. It was older and wiser and sadder and somehow still them – somehow the little boy and girl on the shag carpet merged into the nerdy high school girl in the dress her mom picked out and the dorky high school boy with his dark hair falling haphazardly over his forehead and those two sixteen year olds merged into the two of them now, adults with shorter hair and sadder eyes, with deaths and evils and heartaches that only they understood. They kissed like the only two refugees from a sunken ship, like the last two survivors in a nuclear winter, like two people whose whole town had disappeared into a crater. And at the same time like five year olds who loved each other more than anyone else.
Xander pulled back to catch his breath and leaned his forehead against hers. "So... this kissing thing... is gonna be, like, a thing?" he asked, very inarticulately.
"Looks that way," she replied.
"Huh," he said, and kissed her again. Funny how easily they fitted together, like they'd been kissing for years. Like home. Except... a home with kissing. And funny how it made him incoherent even inside his own head.
They were still kissing fifteen minutes later, when Dawn yelled that dinner was ready. Holding hands, they went downstairs, smiling sheepishly when they saw Buffy. She looked at their joined hands and beamed at them, a bright Buffy smile they hadn't seen nearly enough of in the past few years.
"You're holding hands," Andrew said, sounding confused. Always Captain Obvious. Then he looked like he'd just remembered something, his eyes lighting up. "Bond girl," he said, nodding knowingly at Xander. Willow, Dawn and Buffy all looked confused.
"You don't want to know," Xander said, moving to sit down at the table. They all settled around it, passing food around the warm circle of light over the table. Everyone kept shooting him and Willow little happy looks, but seemed shy about bringing it up.
"Hey Dawn, how was that movie you guys saw this afternoon?" Xander asked her, wanting to be normal about it.
"Oh my gosh, it was totally great," Dawn said. "I want to start a band now. Andrew's going to play drums."
"Don't you need, like, musical talent to start a band?" Buffy asked dryly. And they were off, everyone talking at once in a big happy jumble.
Xander grinned at Willow across the table. And she grinned back.
******
TBC...
******