Buffy was lounging around, enjoying the bagginess of Xander's pants and the junky food he kept stashed in his cupboards. Her appetite was totally out of control, but she showed some restraint and ate only one Ding Dong. After all, she didn't want to turn Xander into a blimp.
She was in the middle of raiding his fridge for a nice cold drink when there was a loud banging at the door. Buffy froze, wondering what she should do. She wasn't sure she was ready to deal with Xander's parents just yet. The pounding started up again.
"Buffy? Are you in there?" came Riley's voice from outside.
Buffy flew up the stairs and opened the door. She prayed his loud knocking hadn't bothered Mr and Mrs Harris.
"Riley—what are you doing here?" she asked quietly.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" he asked. "I ran into Xander in your dorm room. He…uh…filled me in on the situation."
Buffy stood facing him, her arms crossed, and made no move to invite him inside.
"Look, I'm sorry I hit you this morning. But really, can you blame me?"
Buffy raised an eyebrow at him.
"I said I'm sorry, what more do you want? This is all just a bit too weird for me. And I'd be lying if I said seeing you like…like this…makes me want to kiss and make up. Maybe we should save this conversation for when you're back to your old self again."
"And what if that never happens?" asked Buffy. "What if I can never go back to the way I was?"
"You make it sound like you don't want things to go back to normal," said Riley, starting to get defensive.
"It's not a question of what I want, Riley. This could be me from now on whether I like it or not. And that's a hell of a thing to have to deal with. The question is, can you still love me like this?"
Riley puffed out his chest, all set to declare his undying love no matter what the circumstances, but before he could, Buffy grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss. Riley recoiled as if her lips were poisonous, and pushed her away.
"That's what I thought," said Buffy dejectedly.
Riley was too stunned and disturbed to say anything and decided to simply retreat and regroup.
Buffy watched him leave, saddened, but not surprised, that he'd reacted the way he had. She was about to close the door and go back downstairs, when Mr Harris suddenly appeared in the doorway.
Buffy gasped in surprise and backed away from Xander's father until her back was against the wall. His face was twisted into a sneer of disgust as he came at her, a meaty finger pointing at her accusingly.
"Not in my house," Mr Harris said through clenched teeth. "I will not have any homos flitting around in my house. I've always known you were a bit…off. And I've put up with it. But no son of mine is gonna drag the Harris name through the mud under my roof."
Buffy wanted desperately to give him a piece of her mind, but she'd already caused enough trouble for Xander and she didn't want to make it worse. She settled for shooting daggers at him with her eyes and saying nothing.
"I want you out of here tonight. I don't want to see your face anywhere near this house again." He finished by poking Buffy hard on the chest with his meaty, pointing finger, then he slammed the door on his way out.
Buffy blinked back at the door for a moment. Xander was going to kill her when he found out about this.
Buffy met Xander in the front lobby of her dorm, but had a hard time looking him in the eye. She'd spent the afternoon lugging suitcases full of Xander's personal belongings across town to Xander's car, which he'd left down the street from The Magic Box. By the end of the day, she was wishing she could have another shower. And a nap.
"I am so ready to kick some demon butt," said Xander, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of a good fight. He felt more energised than he had since he was six years old and strung out on Lick-em Sticks. He was positively buzzing with adrenalin.
Glad to see you decided to go with a practical outfit," said Buffy, noting that Xander's lack of fashion sense transcended the gender barrier. He had found her tightest and most revealing clothes and figured they'd be perfect to do battle in.
"I know it's a bit 'Xena'," said Xander, "but that can't be bad, right? I mean, Xena's a good role model—she's like Wonder Woman…but with leather."
"Sure, whatever. But if you pop out of that top in the middle of a fight, don't come crying to me." Buffy dragged herself out of the building with Xander bouncing all around her like a hyper puppy. He kept at it all the way to the park, where they started their sweep for creatures of the night.
They scoped out the area and found nothing unusual, but Xander was starting to pick up on Buffy's negative vibes. As they were leaving the park, Xander stopped walking and Buffy nearly ran into him.
"Okay, Buff. What's up?" he asked.
"Up? Nothing's up."
"Oh, please," he said. "I know my own face—I know that 'something's-chewing-me-up-inside' look. So spit it out."
Buffy sighed and shuffled her feet. She'd been hoping to avoid this conversation. Preferably forever. But Xander was staring at her impatiently—now she knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a full-out Buffy glare. It was unsettling, to say the least.
"Don't freak, okay?" she started.
Xander crossed his arms and nodded.
"Okay. So today…well…I kinda got kicked out of your house," she said, flinching in anticipation of his imminent freak out.
"And?" Xander asked calmly.
"You're not freaking. Why aren't you freaking?"
"You kidding?" he said. "If I had a dollar for every time my father threatened to kick me out, I could afford to buy my own mansion." He shrugged it off and started heading for the nearest cemetery.
"He didn't just threaten, Xander. He actually kicked me out—told me never to show my face there again," said Buffy, jogging to keep up with him.
"That old speech? Nothing to worry about…but it means you'll have to find somewhere else to stay and lay low for a while."
"How long?" she asked.
"Depends on what you did to piss him off," he answered.
"He sort of caught me kissing Riley," she blurted out quickly, and jogged right into a suddenly stationary Xander. "Ow," she added in a tiny voice.
Xander swirled around to face her. "Please tell me you're joking?"
Buffy shook her head and bit her lip nervously.
"Well then, I'd say you're lucky you got out of the house in one piece—my father's not known for his liberal-mindedness."
"So I gathered," she said. "You know, you're taking this a lot better than I thought you would."
"I'm not too worried. Wait a couple of weeks, then tell him it was all a misunderstanding. My mom will take care of the rest, and my folks will go back to their regular state of diligent silence and healthy denial." They started walking again, cutting across the wooded area bordering Peaceful Dreams Cemetery.
Xander was suddenly struck with a pain unlike anything he'd felt before. His lower back seized up in a pulsing ache and the pain was even more pronounced in his abdomen.
"What the hell?" he said, his hands grasping at the areas where the pain was throbbing incessantly.
"Are you getting cramps?" asked Buffy.
"I'm getting something! Feels like my organs are liquefying!"
"Yep. That's cramps, alright. It means there's a vampire nearby. Get ready."
"Cramps? You're telling me you get these every time you get near a vampire?" he asked, astonished.
"Oh, don't be such a baby—it's not that bad. We'd have to be surrounded by a bunch of vampires for the pain to be more than just a twinge… oops!" she said as bunch of vampires surrounded them.
Buffy, operating on auto-pilot, flew into action, and was brutally reminded that her wings had been clipped. When she landed her first punch, it felt like she'd slammed her fist into a brick wall. As she cradled her battered fingers, the vampire ploughed into her. The blow sent her flying several feet, then she landed hard, smacking her head against a rock.
Xander watched the bizarre image of his body lying unconscious in the distance as two vampires descended on it. Four more began circling him. The part of his brain that usually told him to duck and cover went AWOL, and he started laying into the gang of vamps. The two that were hovering around Buffy postponed their feast to join in on the fight, and Xander was soon completely surrounded.
Far from panicking, Xander felt a rush of excitement surge through him. His slayer 'Spidey sense' kicked in, and he easily dodged blow after blow, and dealt out more punches and kicks than he received. He was so engrossed with his new powers that he almost forgot the bit where he was supposed to dust them.
Buffy came to feeling like her head had been split in half. She sat up slowly and felt the back of her head. Her hand came away wet with blood. It took a moment for her to remember what had happened, and by then Xander already had the situation well under control. Knowing she'd be of little use at the moment, Buffy resigned herself to sit back and watch the show.
Xander dusted the six vampires without breaking a sweat. Buffy was impressed—he may not have had her technique, but he definitely had raw talent and no end of enthusiasm. Watching him fight made her remember her first encounters with the undead, and she realised he could handle himself fine without her.
As the last vampire wafted away on the evening breeze, Xander trotted over to Buffy and helped her up. She was woozy, but after a few seconds she could stand well enough on her own. Xander looked her over critically.
"You've only had my body for a day, and look at it—it's all bloody and bruised. And you've probably got a concussion." He shook his head like a disappointed grade-school teacher who'd caught his star pupil cheating.
"You can have it back—I don't want it anymore. It hurts," she whined.
"I don't want it back now—you've broken it. And, frankly, right now I'm feeling kinda…"
"Ignore it," Buffy interjected quickly. "Finish your sweep and ignore it, and it'll go away on its own."
"You're not coming with?" he asked.
"I think you can manage well enough on your own. Besides, I'm really bushed. I just want to get some sleep."
"You can't," said Xander.
"What do you mean, 'I can't'?" asked Buffy a little grumpily.
"You can't go to sleep. Didn't you hear me say you might have a concussion? You need to stay awake. And you need someone to stay awake with you to make sure you stay awake. Do you want me to take you to your mom's place?"
"No. Mom and Dawn will be asleep by now," she said. "Plus—finding out in the middle of the night that your daughter's had a sex change—not such a good thing."
"Then let me take you to Giles. If anyone knows about head injuries it's him. And he's got that whole watcher's duty thing going on, so you don't have to feel guilty about keeping him awake all night."
A knock on the door pulled Giles' attention away from his personal journal. He laid down his pen and checked his watch. At this time of night, a knock at the door could only mean something went wrong on patrol. He swallowed around the lump of fear in his throat and went to answer the door.
"Hey, Giles!" said Xander with false cheeriness and a plastered-on grin that he hoped looked more natural that it felt.
Buffy appeared behind him, all pale and off-balance, and took an uneasy step into Giles' apartment. Giles reached out to steady her, and she clung on to his arm, looking at him with big, pain-glazed brown eyes.
"Drugs—what have you got?" she asked without preamble.
"Buffy, what happened? I thought you were supposed to just coach Xander tonight," Giles said, leading her over to a chair at the dinner table. He cast Xander a disapproving look.
"Yeah, but old habits die hard. And stop glaring at Xander—it wasn't his fault," she said. Addressing Xander, she added: "You'd better get going—you still have a lot of ground to cover."
"Right," he said. "I guess I'd better be moseying along, then. And Giles, I think she's got a concussion, so keep an eye on her, okay?"
Xander stepped back out into the darkness, itching to take on some new big bad before the night was through. Buffy watched him disappear into the shadows, feeling more jealous than worried. It was strange and frustrating not being in control. Being just normal was not sitting well with her—she'd come closer to dying tonight than she cared to admit, and it didn't make her feel any better knowing that she owed her life to Xander Harris.
Giles closed the door, shutting out the night, and came over to Buffy to get a closer look at her head injury. The blood from the cut had caked in her hair as it dried, and she flinched as Giles carefully probed the wound.
"Sorry," he said.
"It's okay," she replied, sighing dramatically. "I can take it."
"It's not as bad as it looks," said Giles after his inspection. "Head wounds bleed a lot, but it looks fairly superficial. You won't need stitches, but we should clean it and dress it straight away."
Buffy stood to follow him to the bathroom, but the sudden motion made her dizzy. Giles caught her before she could fall and hit her head again.
"Take it slowly—you've had a nasty bump," Giles said.
"And how many times have you been through this?" Buffy asked with newfound respect.
"Twenty-seven," he said, leading her down the hall to the bathroom. "I'm keeping a running tally. Carl tells me I'm close to setting a new record."
"Carl?" she asked.
"Emergency room attendant," he explained. "we've gotten to know each other fairly well over the years. I'm his best customer," he said with pride.
"I had no idea you spent that much time at the hospital. Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Would you have let me fight with you if you'd known?"
"Of course not. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want any of you to get hurt," she said, and tripped over the threshold of the bathroom, smacking her knee painfully on the tile floor. "Okay. That hurt."
Giles gently steered her over to the toilet and sat her down. "Xander, Willow and I made a choice long ago to fight at your side in any way we can. And I think, at least in some part of your brain, you were well aware of how often we've been hurt." Giles gathered up some supplies from his medicine cabinet and rejoined her. "If you've had to ignore our pain, it was only because you'd never be able to function as a slayer if you'd allowed yourself to acknowledge it."
"Maybe," she said as he dabbed an iodine-soaked cotton swab over the cut, "but I still feel crappy about it." Buffy pouted, but Xander's face wasn't designed for it, so the effect was lost.
"Well you shouldn't," said Giles, giving her a sweet smile. "Not one of us would want you worrying about us while you're out there saving the world. You shoulder an enormous burden, and we don't envy you."
"Xander does," she said. "And I envied him—his life seemed so simple and carefree…"
"But after one day spent living his life you're convinced otherwise?" asked Giles, tossing away the used cotton swabs and bandage wrappings. "There you are. Good as new."
Buffy felt the bandage he'd just put on her head and smiled at him gratefully. "I've made a real mess of things today, Giles," she said, and her smile faltered. "I've been knocked around and thrown out of Xander's house, and I don't think I'll ever see Riley again…" Buffy went over to the sink and washed some of the grime from her hands and face. Giles handed her a towel and she took it, holding it in her hands like it was a precious gift. Her eyes welled up with tears.
"Buffy…?"
Buffy wanted to tell him she was fine. She wanted to laugh it off and move on, but the emotional strain of the day was taking its toll. Giles' shoulder looked big and strong and inviting, and she accepted the invitation, burying her wet face in the soft fabric of his sweater.
Giles awkwardly wrapped his arms around the bulky young man, reminding himself that it was still Buffy, no matter how she now looked. He rubbed the back of her neck soothingly, hoping he wasn't overcompensating for his awkwardness. In any case, it seemed to be doing the trick. Buffy had stopped crying and he could feel her relax against him. She let out a low, muffled grunt of approval as Giles worked out a knot at the base of her neck.
"Are you feeling any better?" asked Giles, taking a break from his efforts.
"Much better," she said, raising her head off his shoulder, "but I don't think I gave you permission to stop." Buffy looked him in the eye, confident she was finished crying. They shared a smile, and they continued to share a smile well past the amount of time two people alone together and only inches apart should share a smile. The silent smiling soon became unbearably uncomfortable, and Giles gingerly removed his hands from her neck and stepped back.
"I think…maybe we should…" Giles mumbled.
"Coffee!' Buffy blurted out.
"Yes, coffee," Giles agreed readily, and they dutifully retreated to the safety of the brightly lit kitchen, where caffeine and sugar would erase all thought of enormous, smiling silences.