"You're right, I'm worse. Ya' see, he never pretended to be an'thing other than what he was. But me?" he laughed mirthlessly, "I said I'd never be like 'im. Look!" He waved his arms in a gesture that encompassed the apartment. "I acted like one of the good guys. I pretended to be better."
"It wasn't pretending, Xander. You're just having a hard time right now is all."
"No!" his cry rattled the windowpanes. "You didn't see what was in that vision. What I was in that vision."
Buffy shook her head vehemently. "But it was a trick. Anya told you herself that it wasn't real."
"Doesn't matter… it could be true."
Buffy glowered. "Yeah, it could be but only if you let it. If you want to look at things that way, I could be dead—many times over, Willow could still be evil, Dawn… Dawn could still be nothing more than 'the key'. But we aren't, none of us, because we chose not to be, in one way or another."
She paused. "And Anya could be long gone. But even though she's back on the vengeance schtick she's still here because she loves you, whether she'll admit it or not. We all do. Don't let your father win now, Xander. Not now, not after everything we've lived through."
(Author's note: It's been a while since I last added to this story. I know this part is distressingly short but it's what I found while I was rearranging my desk and I thought to post it as a means of convincing myself to complete the tale.)