Severed Ties

Chapter 8

The Road Home

Sunnydale

May 16th, 2002

10:08 a.m.

"So you're sure you're okay?" Willow asked pensively.

"I'm fine, Wills, really," Buffy said in amused exasperation at her best friend's query. Between the lot of them--Giles, Willow, Tara, Dawn and Faith--they had poked and prodded Buffy about her well-being at least a dozen times in the thirty some-odd minutes they had been there.

"We only wish to make sure of that fact, Buffy," Giles said, patting her arm. Despite the smothering sensation, Buffy smiled. She had slept in Spike's arm for the better part of the morning, curiously undisturbed by the staff until around eight. The doctor had checked her out then, thoroughly surprised at her strong vitals and he had allowed her to call her family. She chuckled as she remembered Dawn, Faith and Willow squeezing through the door simultaneously before surrounding Buffy in a group hug. Giles and Tara had been next, waiting for the others to gather themselves. No one, not even Giles had staved off the tears and that had made Buffy cry even harder. She cried for what she had lost, a friend in Anya and Xander, news Spike had told her begrudgingly; and for the family before her, the family that had almost lost her a second time.

But now, with Dawn and Faith on either side of the bed, their hands on her shoulders, Willow and Tara sitting at the edge and Giles not too far off to the side, she felt a bit safer. Completely safe, no, because that would have meant that Spike would have had to have been there.

"Hey," she said and peered into each corner of the room, "where is the platinum bad boy?"

"He went outside for some fresh air," Dawn said from her position on Buffy's left.

"Doesn't he know that sunlight and vamps don't mix?" Buffy asked rhetorically.

"No, Mum," Faith interjected, "he said he wanted you to have time alone with your family."

"Okay, I get that. But why isn't he here? He's just as much family as any of us."

"You know how Daddy is, Mum."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Intimately." Buffy frowned when they stared at her, wide eyed, until she backtracked over her words. When the meaning became apparent, her cheeks flushed and she covered her face with her hands.

"And I had to live with these two," Faith said dryly. "Two decades. It's amazing I'm still sane."

"Well I wouldn't go that far," Dawn muttered, garnering a death glare from her niece.

"And what is that supposed to mean, Ms. Buzzsaw?"

"Ms. Buzzsaw? What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means? That you snore like you're choppin' down a bleedin' forest of redwoods."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do-"

"Dawn," Buffy shouted in annoyance. "Not to gang up on you or anything, but Faith is right. You do tend to snore a bit."

The brunette opened her mouth to speak but, upon seeing the apologetic and frayed countenance of her sister, held her tongue. She didn't even allow Faith's smug smirk crawl under her skin. Not this time at least.

"Okay," Giles said, and pulled his glasses off, "now that we are done with the Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny hour, I suggest we all get something to eat and let Buffy get her rest for an hour or so before inundating her with our less than civil behavior." Everyone but Faith and Dawn chuckled, the two of them sticking their tongues out at the watcher.

"My point exactly," was his only reply as he slid his glasses back on.

"A-are you sure we want to eat something from downstairs?" Tara asked timidly. "Because, as much as we love you Buffy, don't really wanna join you in here because we get a hold of some staphylococcus surprise."

"Dear Lord," Giles said and threw his head back. "It's spreading."

"Wow, Giles," Willow said, "two jokes in under a minute. That must be a personal best for you. So, what are you going to do for an encore." The Brit rolled his eyes, not even dignifying the jibe with a response.

"Giles is right," Dawn said, "you do need some rest and, as much as I am not looking forward to the stale treats that the have waiting for us downstairs, I do need to eat something." She was silent for a moment before her face brightened. "Of course, if Tara is feeling super nice today, I could ride into town with her and pick up something at the strip. We could even smuggle you in something. Maybe…Subway?"

"And of course your altruism is pure as the driven snow, with no underlying intentions to see a certain boyfriend that just so happens to work in a clothing store two spots down from said Subway," Faith imparted saintly.

Dawn glared at her before trying to hide behind the innocent façade that worked so well when she was little, hoping it would work in spades.

"Boyfriend?" Buffy asked incredulously before glaring at her little sister.

"Ha ha, boyfriend," the brunette said, trying to laugh it off and, at the same time, avoid staring daggers at her niece--well, at least until big sister wasn't glaring down her throat. "You know, Buffy, boyfriend as in he's a boy and just so happens to be my friend. Just like Xander." The minute the words left her mouth, Dawn bit her lip. The festive mood that had littered the room shriveled up instantly and the six occupants looked at everything but one another.

"So, you wanna go to Subway, huh?" Tara finally spoke, breaking up the tense silence. "Okay. Buffy? You want anything?"

The slayer smiled half-heartedly. "Surprise me." She looked pointedly at Dawn. "But no 'Dawn Specials'. Got it?"

The barb had the desired effect and Dawn sighed dramatically before huffing. She grabbed Willow by the arm and pulled her off the bed. Faith wasn't too far behind with Tara in tow.

"Giles?" Tara called over her shoulder.

"Go ahead without me."

"Okay," Faith said, "but we're gonna let Dawn pick out your treat."

"Thrilling," he deadpanned as the two women disappeared out the door. Pulling up a chair, he sat next to Buffy and took her hand in his, reading the questions before they tumbled out of her mouth.

"So what happened?" She asked. "I mean, Spike told me the gist of it but--but not all of it. Not how." For some reason or another, the abbreviated version Spike had given her earlier wasn't enough--she had to know it all, no matter how graphic it turned out to be.

Giles sighed. "When we arrived, Xander and I attacked two of the Jct'ars. They were much too powerful and battle savvy for us. We really didn't stand a chance. From what Xander said before he…he was down and one was going in for the kill before Anya intercepted it. It slashed her with its claws." The watcher ripped off his glasses and peered at the ceiling, unashamed at the tears falling down his face.

"The wound proved fatal. She--she died in his arms."

Buffy closed her eyes, the warm trickle of tears the only sensation she felt aside from the piercing ache in the middle of her chest. Anya was dead. Anya. 'Money hungry, say things that no one dared say' Anya was dead. Willow had told Buffy how the former vengeance demon had reacted to Joyce's death and from then Buffy had seen her as a true friend, someone that loved and hurt just like the others. She had known that before but had never really understood the woman that had taken Xander's heart. Now, after hearing what she did, sacrificing herself for the man she loved, Buffy couldn't stop the cowl of guilt that threatened to coat her for not spending more time with Anya.

"Oh, Giles," she cried and pulled the watcher into an impromptu embrace. It lasted several minutes, both of them consoling the other, before Buffy's sobs abated. Wiping her face, she forced her mind back to what she could do something about.

"I can imagine what Xander's going through. Has he--has he contacted you guys at all?"

"I'm afraid not, Buffy. We've heard neither hide nor hair of him since he disappeared."

"Have you tried tracking him down? I mean, he couldn't have gotten too far before you guys found out he was missing. Right?" It only took a single look from Giles to answer her question. Buffy sighed tiredly. The happiness she had felt not forty-five minutes ago had dissipated entirely. Xander, her best male friend had watched his love die, something that Buffy was all too familiar with. She understood him, understood the blinding pain and self-hatred for letting it happen. She understood the unshakable urge to get away from things, to run as far away as you could. She had done that once when she had killed Angel. But at least she knew that she had saved the world in doing it. But Anya? What did her death do but cause more pain to the people Buffy loved?

"Do you think he'll come back, Giles?" Buffy asked. She had wanted so desperately for Giles to lie to her, to tell her that Xander just needed a few months away to deal with his grief, but she knew that her surrogate father would only tell her the truth.

"I don't know Buffy," he answered. "I honestly don't know."

*&*

Mexico City, Mexico

May 16th, 2002

Late Evening

The tobacco scent of the cigarette hanging from his lips deadened the stale air of the bar, something Xander was very thankful for.

Now I know how vampires feel, he thought amusedly. All this nastiness, this filth around them; heightened senses you can't turn off.

"At least they don't have to breathe," he said aloud as a particularly funky demon walked in front of him. He flicked the fag to the floor, grinding it out with the tip of his boots trying to ignore the demon, which had now stopped in front of him.

"Did you say something, amigo?" The demon asked.

"Don't remember addressing you, my man," Xander replied. He cut his eyes up at the demon before settling back to the floor. "So why don't you be a good little demon and skedaddle on out before it gets not so comfortable for you." He flashed the demon a quick smile, making sure it saw the red tint of his eyes.

"Ay," Slime Guy said. "So the rumors are true, are they not?"

"Depends on the rumor," the brunette replied coolly before tilting back the shot glass and draining it of its whiskey contents.

The demon leaned forward, invading Xander's space, its slime dripping onto the fabric of his black jeans. "The rumor of a gringo, traveling through Mexico, butchering demons. No name, no face. Nothing but a set of red eyes that are brighter than hell itself."

"Heard that, too."

"I'll bet you have, extranjero. Le rasgaré abierto y alimentaré en sus entrañas." The demon growled and pulled back its talons…

Before it had a chance to make a move, Xander unsheathed the machete on the side of his leg and rammed it into the demon's gut before ripping it upward with all his unnatural strength, splitting the creature in half.

The other patrons, human and demon alike, watched in mild interest before turning back to their respective conversations. Xander watched the dead husk crumble into a crystal pile at his feet. He stared from his blade to the demon and back again.

"Well, at least I don't have to clean this up," he said and replaced the machete back into its sheathe. He rotated his head to the side, getting out the kinks before tossing the money on the table and exiting into the evening air.

It had been two weeks since he had woken to find his master gone, no trace of the other demon anywhere in the cottage. Xander had known instinctively that his teacher hadn't just slipped out for a morning walk. No, Diohbin-Zi was gone for good.

"Do you really think this is the right thing for me to do?" Xander whispered to the heated night. Even after the few weeks he had had to adjust, Xander still felt the ache of his teacher's absence. For three years (well, at least that's how time passed for him) the Elwvenian had been Xander's only companion. There had been no Buffy. No Willow. No Anya.

The night warrior sighed heavily at the loss of his love. Though time had passed faster than him than in this world, the pang that Anya's memory brought to him was just as new as when it first happened, the only difference being that, now, he did not show his pain. It was hidden under a mask of steel, leather and Kevlar, buried deep within him, never again to be tapped.

"Never again," he muttered and chuckled to himself. He had said the same thing when he had left Sunnydale. He had promised himself he would never return. But he had also promised to keep Anya safe and look where that got him.

"Can't say that I don't like the improvement," he said, staring at his reflection in the tinted windows of his van. What he didn't say, didn't have to say, was that he would trade all his strength and skills for one more night with the woman that still talked to him while he slept. He had never known that love could be so strong. Even his love for Cordelia and long-standing infatuation with Buffy had not been close to the sheer joy Xander felt whenever Anya smiled at him. The way her voice was so even when she said things others couldn't even whisper. Even when she annoyed him, Xander would love her just a little bit more, shaking his head at how he got to be so lucky.

Now, the only luck he had was not being weak anymore, not being the Zeppo. He was important now, fighting the good fight he had started with Buffy so long ago, except that, this time, he could fend for himself. He could fight by Buffy's side without her having to look out for him. He could finally look out for her and Willow, never again to be pushed to the background while Spike had the slayer's back…

"For someone hell-bent on never going back, Harris, you sure have done a lot of thought about what would be different." His fingers traced the scruff of his beard in the mirror before he opened the door and hopped into the van. Looking at the clock and figuring that he would stop once more on the way, Xander estimated that he would arrive in Sunnydale tomorrow night. Of course he had no idea how long it would be before he re-introduced himself to the others. He wondered if his new physical prowess was enough for him to stand up to the accusatory words and scrutinous glares that were surely awaiting him.

"And I called Buffy an idiot when she ran away." He sighed again. Buffy. The girl that had, above all others, driven him to becoming a better man. Oh, there had been others who were integral in his transformation. Willow. Cordelia. Anya, of course. Giles and the others. But Buffy—when he had first seen her strength, Xander envied the man who would have what it took to have her heart. He knew that he had been inferior but that didn't stop him from trying. And look where it had gotten him.

Shaking the past away, Xander focused on the future as he pulled out of the lot. His mind replayed Diohbin-Zi's last words to him; "You must go back," he had said. "They need you. The Key, the slayer, the witches, the vampire and the child. And others. Others that you know but will not expect to be there. You are the final piece of the puzzle, the furthest away. "

Though he didn't know what the words meant, Xander trusted Diohbin-Zi more than he had ever trusted anyone. He knew the Elwvenian would never lie to him—obfuscate, yes--but not out and out lie. Whatever was coming up, was definitely of the bad and Xander only hoped that he was up to the challenge.

They're counting on me and they don't even know it, the brunette thought amusedly as he turned onto the highway. The only other time that had happened, the confrontation with Jack O'Toole in the basement of the high school, he had come through. He had the feeling that, this time, things would be decidedly more difficult.

"But I'm ready," he reminded himself. "Ready as I'll ever be." And that was the truth. Even through all his training over the last three years and his previous six fighting with Buffy, Xander knew that there were still things more deadly, more horrible than he had ever seen. And though he understood that, he didn't kid himself—when things were said and done, he might be one of the casualties of war.

"Dying a hero. Not a bad ring to it," he said and started on a tune he and Willow used to sing together. He was on the road home, on his way to defend and fight with the people he called family.

And if Xander Harris died doing that, well, he couldn't think of a better way to go.

TBC…