Title: A Fair Exchange.
Author: Charlie
Timeline: Post BtVS S7 & AtS S5. Sequel to "Best Laid Plans."
Summary: Xander begins revamping the slayer school but finds his biggest challeges lie within.
Feedback is always appreciated.
Author Notes: Round and round, the ship goes. Where it lands, the
Author doesn't know. Will it be (A)my, (B)uffy, (C)ordelia, (D)awn, (F)aith, (F)red, (H)armony, (K)ennedy or (W)illow that wins the Xandman?
Dawn considered the man before her. Though her memories of Hank Summers were fake, the feelings they generated were all too real to her. This was indeed her father, the man that as far as she knew had abandoned her, Buffy and their mother.
Across from her, Hank Summers studied his youngest daughter. Though he would never know that she was never 'his', her appearance, voice, everything about her spoke to him on some level. There was a gentle strength about her, a trait he felt not only from Joyce but also from his own mother, Anne. Hesitantly he cleared his throat before speaking.
"That's a lovely dress you're wearing."
"It was a present from Cordelia. She's a friend of mine."
"A friend?"
"Well, more like a sister."
"Oh. How are you getting along with Buffy?"
"We're good. Things were rough awhile, had trouble making ends meet, but we're good."
"Dawn, I-I never meant to hurt you or her."
"Well you did. You ran off and left me and Mom without saying a word."
"If you're waiting for me to make an excuse Dawn, I can't. I can't excuse what I've done, what happened or why I did it. There are no words or reasons to explain why. I can't even tell you it won't happen again. All I can do is say I'm sorry that it happened and that I hope one day I can your father again."
Dawn looked over at him, thinking for a long time before answering, "Okay."
Later
Faith shifted beneath the covers of her bed. The feel of the satin sheets on her bare chest usually felt erotic and helped get her going. But not right now, now all they did was keep her away for some reason. The bed shifted as the lamp overhead clicked on, bathing the room in it's soft light. Wood sat up on his elbows looking over at her. He watched for a second, gauging the expression on her.
"What's the problem Faith?"
"Nothing."
"You seem worked up about something."
"It's nothing, all right."
"Faith," he let his hand drift down and grab hers, "what's wrong?"
As if in answer, she brought her other hand up and cupped the ugly bruise on her cheek and tried to look away.
"Oh. Is that still bothering me?"
"Yes it's bothering me. The last asshole that hit me like that, ended up in the emergency room."
"Faith...You did the right thing."
"What? By letting him hit me? Or letting him walk away?"
"Both. You're not the woman you were back then. If Alexander can't see that then that's his problem."
"When did you get so sappy?"
"Moscow."
"Oh."
She remembers that trip well. The serene cityscape covered in snow, seeing her breath in Gorky Park on a crisp winter day. That was one of the few trips they had taken that really was both business and pleasure. A guilty smile graced her face.
"I see your remember."
"You looked hilarious in that fur cap."
Wood let of her hand and leaned over her. He looked down into her eyes, seeing and sensing the desire building within them.
"I thought I looked pretty damn good myself."
Their lips touch gently for a few seconds before Faith responds in a sultry voice "Always fishing for a compliment. We got work to do tomorrow W."
"Faith, that's tomorrow," Robin kissed her deeply, feeling her legs spread to allow him access. He left a trail of kisses from her mouth down her and across the top of her chest.
"This is tonight."
Elsewhere
'I like the quiet'.
'Or rather I USED to like the quiet'.
Xander shifted slightly in 'his' new bed. It wasn't really new or even his, Fred had brought it with her from LA. When she had relocated, the bed had been something she had been forced to leave behind until she could find room for it. Truthfully Xander would have happily slept on the floor if that were an option. But Cordelia and Dawn had insisted. So on another's bed he slept; at least he had been able to buy a new mattress, sheets, pillows and everything else. He was damned if he was going to sleep on the same sheets where Spike and Fred had consummated their relationship and did God knows what.
The thought of Spike and Fred together revolted him on many levels. He knew that Winfred had been involved with another man, Charles Gunn before Spike. Gunn was similar to himself in many ways; a normal human with no real powers other then a strong right hook and willingness to fight. Or he had been until making deal of sorts. He didn't know the specifics he didn't care to. All he knew was that Gunn wasn't here and none of the former Team Angel members knew where he was.
He glanced around at the now barren walls of the apartment. Fred had taken down all the photos, paintings and other things she had and packed them away in boxes. Likewise most of her furniture was gone as well as all of her clothing. There had been quiet discussions about adding another wing to the apartment complex but nothing had been agreed upon as of yet. For now, Xander was left with a mostly empty apartment with only a few generic tables, chairs and a beaten up recliner in it.
It's strange, he hasn't been a place this barren since... since the motel two years ago. Back then he understood, the motel room was supposed to be featureless. It has new people in it every night, new heads on pillows, etc... It's whole purpose was give someone a place that looked like home for about 24 hours. This room's emptiness was different though, some one had lived here, and they had been making a life for themselves.
Until they had been forced into leaving. Forced to pack up their things into boxes. Forced to put aside their memories, thoughts and feelings for the will of another. They were adapting to their new situation though, after all, a person's greatest strength is often their resiliency, and he should know that better then anyone. Given the things he's faced, the fact that he survived is in itself a miracle.
But not everyone survives or makes it out. Xander brought his gaze down to the object he held in his hands. It's only a simple, golden band; there is nothing extraordinary about it save on the inside. There, written in a flowing style script was the word, "Forever". That one word is enough to have the grief well up inside him again.
'Forever' didn't happen and it almost killed him. If it had happened, maybe he would have died anyway. But, he'll never know, it like a lot of his life was swallowed up and consumed by the darkness he faced on a daily and nightly basis. It's not like he didn't try though, he really thought maybe he had shot again. Just a glimmer of hope until the end.
Now all he has are memories, memories that grow fainter during the day but return at night. Especially on a night like tonight, on nights like this he would get out of the shower and lay down. He would feel her cuddle up to him, silently pleading to be held and he would. Xander would revel in her softness, her warmth, and her desire to be there with him.
He missed having that warmth, her smile, and the sound of voice as she blurted something out, the expression on her face and in her eyes. He even missed having her cold feet on his back at night. He even the odd food she developed a taste for, taking up most of the refrigerator space.
Nights like this, the loneliness seems to draw his memories to the surface. Xander remembers shopping for the ring he now holds in his hand with her. Anya was nervous yet excited about it. They had tried on and discussed rings for almost an hour before finding the ones they wanted. After both were sized, they had decided to customize their rings, adding 'Forever' inside the band. The glow on Anya's face as they left the shop had been such that he joked that she could turn a vamp to dust with it. They had giggled and returned home.
He would have bet anything that seeing her after giving the ring for real, that the glow then would have visible for miles around. But he never got the chance, instead the only thing he gave her was pain and grief, things she returned full force by being with another and letting him see it all. Still even after all that, he thought they had a chance. Xander knew she had her ring, he had seen it in her purse. He had been of a mind to drive them out to Las Vegas, have a quickie ceremony and return home. But even that idea was gone, buried under tons of rumble and debris.
One part of him raged to no end that her sacrifice had gone unnoticed and unacknowledged while the actions of another had been hailed and lauded. Part of him wishes to do anything to get them to see what she did and why she did it. But he knows that if it hasn't happened now, it will never happen.
Anya is gone.
She'll never laugh again at his feeble attempts at humor.
She'll never make tactless remarks about his bedroom performance, his life or the life of others around them.
She never smile again as she counts up the money in the Magic Box, an act though shallow in appearance is uniquely Anya and something he loved because it was her.
Again, he glances at the barren walls, the emptiness of the room, even the harsh impersonal nature of the ceiling. He imagines feeling her warm breath on his neck as they lay together. And he catches himself straining to listen for her.
Silently, he places the ring in a place where he sees it without moving from his pillow and lies on his bed.
Once upon a time, he liked the quiet.
Now, he hates it.
Author: Charlie
Timeline: Post BtVS S7 & AtS S5. Sequel to "Best Laid Plans."
Summary: Xander begins revamping the slayer school but finds his biggest challeges lie within.
Feedback is always appreciated.
Author Notes: Round and round, the ship goes. Where it lands, the
Author doesn't know. Will it be (A)my, (B)uffy, (C)ordelia, (D)awn, (F)aith, (F)red, (H)armony, (K)ennedy or (W)illow that wins the Xandman?
Dawn considered the man before her. Though her memories of Hank Summers were fake, the feelings they generated were all too real to her. This was indeed her father, the man that as far as she knew had abandoned her, Buffy and their mother.
Across from her, Hank Summers studied his youngest daughter. Though he would never know that she was never 'his', her appearance, voice, everything about her spoke to him on some level. There was a gentle strength about her, a trait he felt not only from Joyce but also from his own mother, Anne. Hesitantly he cleared his throat before speaking.
"That's a lovely dress you're wearing."
"It was a present from Cordelia. She's a friend of mine."
"A friend?"
"Well, more like a sister."
"Oh. How are you getting along with Buffy?"
"We're good. Things were rough awhile, had trouble making ends meet, but we're good."
"Dawn, I-I never meant to hurt you or her."
"Well you did. You ran off and left me and Mom without saying a word."
"If you're waiting for me to make an excuse Dawn, I can't. I can't excuse what I've done, what happened or why I did it. There are no words or reasons to explain why. I can't even tell you it won't happen again. All I can do is say I'm sorry that it happened and that I hope one day I can your father again."
Dawn looked over at him, thinking for a long time before answering, "Okay."
Later
Faith shifted beneath the covers of her bed. The feel of the satin sheets on her bare chest usually felt erotic and helped get her going. But not right now, now all they did was keep her away for some reason. The bed shifted as the lamp overhead clicked on, bathing the room in it's soft light. Wood sat up on his elbows looking over at her. He watched for a second, gauging the expression on her.
"What's the problem Faith?"
"Nothing."
"You seem worked up about something."
"It's nothing, all right."
"Faith," he let his hand drift down and grab hers, "what's wrong?"
As if in answer, she brought her other hand up and cupped the ugly bruise on her cheek and tried to look away.
"Oh. Is that still bothering me?"
"Yes it's bothering me. The last asshole that hit me like that, ended up in the emergency room."
"Faith...You did the right thing."
"What? By letting him hit me? Or letting him walk away?"
"Both. You're not the woman you were back then. If Alexander can't see that then that's his problem."
"When did you get so sappy?"
"Moscow."
"Oh."
She remembers that trip well. The serene cityscape covered in snow, seeing her breath in Gorky Park on a crisp winter day. That was one of the few trips they had taken that really was both business and pleasure. A guilty smile graced her face.
"I see your remember."
"You looked hilarious in that fur cap."
Wood let of her hand and leaned over her. He looked down into her eyes, seeing and sensing the desire building within them.
"I thought I looked pretty damn good myself."
Their lips touch gently for a few seconds before Faith responds in a sultry voice "Always fishing for a compliment. We got work to do tomorrow W."
"Faith, that's tomorrow," Robin kissed her deeply, feeling her legs spread to allow him access. He left a trail of kisses from her mouth down her and across the top of her chest.
"This is tonight."
Elsewhere
'I like the quiet'.
'Or rather I USED to like the quiet'.
Xander shifted slightly in 'his' new bed. It wasn't really new or even his, Fred had brought it with her from LA. When she had relocated, the bed had been something she had been forced to leave behind until she could find room for it. Truthfully Xander would have happily slept on the floor if that were an option. But Cordelia and Dawn had insisted. So on another's bed he slept; at least he had been able to buy a new mattress, sheets, pillows and everything else. He was damned if he was going to sleep on the same sheets where Spike and Fred had consummated their relationship and did God knows what.
The thought of Spike and Fred together revolted him on many levels. He knew that Winfred had been involved with another man, Charles Gunn before Spike. Gunn was similar to himself in many ways; a normal human with no real powers other then a strong right hook and willingness to fight. Or he had been until making deal of sorts. He didn't know the specifics he didn't care to. All he knew was that Gunn wasn't here and none of the former Team Angel members knew where he was.
He glanced around at the now barren walls of the apartment. Fred had taken down all the photos, paintings and other things she had and packed them away in boxes. Likewise most of her furniture was gone as well as all of her clothing. There had been quiet discussions about adding another wing to the apartment complex but nothing had been agreed upon as of yet. For now, Xander was left with a mostly empty apartment with only a few generic tables, chairs and a beaten up recliner in it.
It's strange, he hasn't been a place this barren since... since the motel two years ago. Back then he understood, the motel room was supposed to be featureless. It has new people in it every night, new heads on pillows, etc... It's whole purpose was give someone a place that looked like home for about 24 hours. This room's emptiness was different though, some one had lived here, and they had been making a life for themselves.
Until they had been forced into leaving. Forced to pack up their things into boxes. Forced to put aside their memories, thoughts and feelings for the will of another. They were adapting to their new situation though, after all, a person's greatest strength is often their resiliency, and he should know that better then anyone. Given the things he's faced, the fact that he survived is in itself a miracle.
But not everyone survives or makes it out. Xander brought his gaze down to the object he held in his hands. It's only a simple, golden band; there is nothing extraordinary about it save on the inside. There, written in a flowing style script was the word, "Forever". That one word is enough to have the grief well up inside him again.
'Forever' didn't happen and it almost killed him. If it had happened, maybe he would have died anyway. But, he'll never know, it like a lot of his life was swallowed up and consumed by the darkness he faced on a daily and nightly basis. It's not like he didn't try though, he really thought maybe he had shot again. Just a glimmer of hope until the end.
Now all he has are memories, memories that grow fainter during the day but return at night. Especially on a night like tonight, on nights like this he would get out of the shower and lay down. He would feel her cuddle up to him, silently pleading to be held and he would. Xander would revel in her softness, her warmth, and her desire to be there with him.
He missed having that warmth, her smile, and the sound of voice as she blurted something out, the expression on her face and in her eyes. He even missed having her cold feet on his back at night. He even the odd food she developed a taste for, taking up most of the refrigerator space.
Nights like this, the loneliness seems to draw his memories to the surface. Xander remembers shopping for the ring he now holds in his hand with her. Anya was nervous yet excited about it. They had tried on and discussed rings for almost an hour before finding the ones they wanted. After both were sized, they had decided to customize their rings, adding 'Forever' inside the band. The glow on Anya's face as they left the shop had been such that he joked that she could turn a vamp to dust with it. They had giggled and returned home.
He would have bet anything that seeing her after giving the ring for real, that the glow then would have visible for miles around. But he never got the chance, instead the only thing he gave her was pain and grief, things she returned full force by being with another and letting him see it all. Still even after all that, he thought they had a chance. Xander knew she had her ring, he had seen it in her purse. He had been of a mind to drive them out to Las Vegas, have a quickie ceremony and return home. But even that idea was gone, buried under tons of rumble and debris.
One part of him raged to no end that her sacrifice had gone unnoticed and unacknowledged while the actions of another had been hailed and lauded. Part of him wishes to do anything to get them to see what she did and why she did it. But he knows that if it hasn't happened now, it will never happen.
Anya is gone.
She'll never laugh again at his feeble attempts at humor.
She'll never make tactless remarks about his bedroom performance, his life or the life of others around them.
She never smile again as she counts up the money in the Magic Box, an act though shallow in appearance is uniquely Anya and something he loved because it was her.
Again, he glances at the barren walls, the emptiness of the room, even the harsh impersonal nature of the ceiling. He imagines feeling her warm breath on his neck as they lay together. And he catches himself straining to listen for her.
Silently, he places the ring in a place where he sees it without moving from his pillow and lies on his bed.
Once upon a time, he liked the quiet.
Now, he hates it.