Beneath
Author: Kendra Doyle
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Through Season Six
Idea: What if Buffy decided to turn to someone else in Season Six?
Please review!
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"Hey, Xander,"
"Hey, Buff."
I noticed that she was wearing a black halter top that she used to wear sometimes to the Bronze. I remember it well because I always complimented it, and Anya would then tell me in no uncertain terms to stop drooling at Buffy's breasts. Usually right in front of Buffy, Willow, and five or ten random bystanders.
Now, though, it hung loosely on her bony shoulders and chest. I saw that she had dark circles under her eyes.
"Xander, I-I wanted to talk to you. Alone," her voice shook the tiniest bit.
"Well, here we are. Alone as two peas in a pod. Um, assuming it was a very little pod with only
two peas in it. So shoot," I sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to me. Buffy sat on the edge of the cushion, looking down at her hands. The skin and nails, thanks to slayer healing,
looked perfectly normal.
"I've been thinking a lot about things," she began, still not looking at me.
"Since I . . . got back, everything seems different. Everyone . . . " suddenly, she looked up and
met my eyes. Something in her look made me feel strange.
"I know before, you and I never . . . well, there was Angel and then Riley, things were always so
complicated. You were always a good friend through everything. But now," she slid closer to me
on the couch and laid her perfectly-healed right hand on my leg.
For a moment, I remembered how it had looked that night--bleeding, torn nails hanging loosely from dirty fingers--so vividly, that I almost jerked away, disgusted. I got hold of myself and looked back up.
"Xander, I don't just want to be friends anymore. I want to be . . . close to you, Xander. I want
to make up for everything before, the way I've treated you. Starting now."
Buffy leaned in, her eyes closed, her lips inches from mine. For an instant I imagined I smelled the faint scent of dirt, cloying perfume, and under it something else: the sweetish scent of decay. I pulled away and stood.
"Buffy, what is this? This- this isn't right."
Buffy's hand slid off my leg, and she opened her eyes. Now she looked angry, and she stood up
too.
"Oh, so now you're too good for me, is that it? Bring her back from the dead, and, oops, the
value decreases dramatically. Unfortunate side effect, can't be helped. Should have read the fine
print, huh Xand?"
"Buff, don't say that," I protested. "That's definitely not the issue here,"
"So what is? Why can't we be together?"
She laid a hand on my cheek. "I want you, Xander."
Just a few months ago, this whole scenario would have been more than welcome. In fact, I could recall visualizing similar situations many a long winter's night. Now, though, it felt wrong. Like we were in high school again, and no matter what she said, I wasn't going to open that rain coat. I gently pushed her hand away and took a couple steps back.
"Buffy, come on. This isn't-"
"Xander, please," I could hear the desperation in her voice now, and saw a tear slide down her
cheek. She hastily wiped it away and turned, not looking at me. I went over and hugged her
gently. Her skin felt cold.
"Buffy, hey, what's up? Did something happen?"
She looked back up, more tears brimming in her eyes.
"Please, Xander. I need . . . I just need to feel something."
Buffy began to cry in earnest then, with long, shuddering sobs that shook her whole body. But before she looked away again, I figured out the look in her eyes. The strange look that made my skin crawl, although I didn't know why.
Her eyes were empty.
It was like looking into the shutter-less windows of an abandoned house. On the surface, they were the same blue-green eyes that I'd always admired, once loved. But beneath . . .
"Oh God, Buffy," I muttered, stroking her hair while she sobbed into my chest.
"What did we do to you?"
I held her a long time after she stopped crying.
