Campden Hill Road, London
Harris' Residence
The front door flung open as Buffy dashed out into the house. She knew she had to get home as quickly as possible, to try and make sense of the implausible photographs she had stumbled upon.
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any clue that could lead her to the answers she desperately sought. Her mind raced with questions, but the silence of the empty house offered no response.
Her gaze eventually settled on the closed door of the study and walked over to it. Buffy hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the doorknob, before finally summoning the courage to turn it and step inside. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Buffy's eyes scanned the space, taking in the furniture and bookshelves.
She had to find those photos, desperate for answers and affirmation that she wasn't going insane. With a determined stride, she made her way across the study and approached the desk. Her gaze fell upon a box tucked away behind the chair at the desk. It was as if the box had been waiting for her all along, patiently biding its time until she was ready to uncover its secrets.
With a quickening pulse, she reached out to grasp the box, her fingers trembling with anticipation as she lifted the lid and peered inside. As she gingerly lifted the lid and inside, she saw a treasure trove of memories carefully preserved. The frames, each one unique, held precious moments frozen in time.
Buffy's muscles strained as she hoisted the weighty box from the ground and carefully placed it onto a chair.
One by one, Buffy reached a hand into the box and took out frame after frame from the wall. Her focus was unwavering as she gazed at each picture. She felt as though she was in a dream, unable to fully grasp the magnitude of what she was uncovering. The shock of it all had left her numb, her thoughts jumbled and confused. As the realisation settled in, she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over her. She could feel her world shifting beneath her feet, and she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
"Xander?" As she turned her head, it seemed to spin in a complete circle, causing her to feel as though she was a character straight out of a horror movie. The image of Linda Blair in The Exorcist flashed through her mind.
Her gaze was intense, her eyes wide like saucers as she studied the image before her. Married to Xander? She tried to compose herself, but her mind was racing with thoughts of how this could have happened.
"I got married...to Xander?" she thought to herself in complete disbelief.
In her trembling hands, Buffy stared at the photograph in her hands. It was a picture of her, holding a tiny newborn in the crook of her arms. Her heart raced as she whispered his name, "Joshua… is yours," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're a mother."
Buffy's mind felt as if it had separated from her physical form as if she was an outside observer looking in. She watched herself with a sense of wonder and awe as she gazed down at the photo of her newborn son, feeling an overwhelming surge of love and protectiveness wash over her. Her head felt light and her vision began to blur.
Buffy's heart raced as she took a step back, her mind reeling with confusion. She found herself perched on the ledge of the window sill, her thoughts in disarray and her eyes glued to the photo of her husband and son.
Hours Later: Early Evening
The sun slowly sank below the horizon when Xander arrived back at the house. The sky was painted with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the neighbourhood. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool evening air fill his lungs. It had been a long day, but he was finally home. He couldn't help but ponder about Buffy's recent adventure and whether it had triggered any recollection in her mind.
"Buffy?" As he stepped into the dimly lit room, he called out her name. With a sigh, he closed the door behind him and hung his coat on the hook. "Are you here? Buffster?" Xander's attention was caught by a faint glow emanating from the study. He couldn't resist the urge to investigate, so he made his way towards the source of the light.
Xander's eye gleamed with a mischievous glint as he pushed the partially closed door open wider. He stood in the doorway, a smile playing on his lips as he surveyed the scene before him. "Buf—" As he spoke, his smile slowly faded away, replaced by a look of anxiousness. He couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze, instead choosing to stare at the floor as if searching for answers there.
The once neatly arranged family photographs that adorned the walls and shelves were now scattered haphazardly across the floor, carefully arranging them in chronological order and examining every detail.
Buffy perched on the edge of the desk, her gaze was fixed on the photographs before her, her eyes wide and unblinking. Her face was completely still as if time had frozen her expression in a moment of utter shock. It was as if the world had stopped turning and all that remained was the stunned look on her face.
He felt a lump form in his throat as he summoned the courage to speak her name. "Buffy," he whispered, barely audible. His heart raced as he waited for her response, unsure of how she would react.
She gazed up at him, her hazel-green eyes lifting slowly from the photos scattered across the study. "What is this?"
He hesitated, unsure how to explain himself. "I don't..."
"What are these, Xander?" she asked, her emotions churned like the tumultuous sea, a mix of bewilderment and fury.
He stumbled over his words, desperately trying to find the right ones to say. With a hesitant step forward, he began, "I can explain." He had planned to tell her everything. He watched as her eyes widened in shock and disbelief, her mouth agape as she struggled to process.
"Really?" she said through gritted teeth. "I'm dying to hear this one. Or was this just gonna be some big secret for the rest of forever? When were you going to tell me that I have a—" The word "son" died on her lips, frozen in disbelief, and unable to finish the sentence.
"I didn't want to overwhelm you," he said, looking at her with a mix of concern and regret.
"Well, that plan is moot," she declared with a heavy sigh and let her arms drop to her sides. "'Cause I'm feeling incredibly overwhelmed," she admitted, her voice seething with frustration. "You had no right to keep this from me!"
"I just did what the doctor told me to do," Xander argued. "You were s'posed to remember it on your own!"
"What if my memory never comes back, Xander?" Buffy shouted at him from across the room. "Was I just going to go on for the rest of my life never knowing that I had a child?"
Xander struggled to keep his emotions in check, but he could feel his frustration bubbling up inside him. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down, but it was no use. His composure was slipping away, and he knew it. "You're pissed off now—"
She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Damn right, I'm pissed off!" she exclaimed, her voice rising with each word. Buffy's eyes blazed with fury as she glared at him. "You should've told me!"
"And what? What other possible outcome would've happened? What other outcome would make you less pissed off?" Xander asked, shouting back at her.
"Still." Her lips formed a tight line, a clear indication of her anger. "I should've known."
He stood there, his arms falling limply to his sides. "Well," he said, his voice low and measured, "now you know."
If there was anything in the memories she had left, one thing remained constant: the harsh manner in which they argued. In their darkest moments, they made a point to target the knees.
"And married?" She looked at him with a mix of anger and hurt. Her eyes were piercing and her voice was low and tense. "Were you ever going to tell me about that?" she asked, her words hanging in the air like a heavy weight.
His face contorted into a look of shock and his eye widened as if he had just realised something terrible. It was clear that he was experiencing an "Oh, shit" moment. "Buf…"
She looked at him with a piercing gaze, her eyes searching for any hint of deception. "Is there anything else you're keeping from me?" she asked. "Do I raise penguins in Guam? Or-or own a supply warehouse in Vegas with Giles? What else is there?"
"Buffy…"
"I need some air," she said as she brushed past him and made her way towards the foyer. The tension in the room was suffocating, and she couldn't bear it any longer.
"Buffy, wait!" he called out, his footsteps quickening as he tried to catch up to her. She didn't slow down, her pace steady as she continued down the deserted street. He knew he had to try harder to get her attention. "Buffy, please," he pleaded, his voice laced with desperation. But she didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge him in any way.
Buffy stormed out into the dark, her heart pounding with anger and frustration. She couldn't bear to be in that house for another moment. She felt betrayed and hurt, and she needed to get away. As she walked down the street, the cool night air whipped around her, sending shivers down her spine. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, trying to ward off the chill. Her mind was racing, replaying everything she's learned and their argument over and over again.
Xander let out a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. "Shit."
2 Hours Later
As Buffy pushed open the door to the house, the darkness inside enveloped her. She took a deep breath and stepped inside, her senses on high alert. She could hear the faint sound of movement coming from the living room, and her heart quickened. As she made her way towards the source of the noise, she saw Xander sitting on the couch, his leg bouncing up and down with nervous energy. He looked up as she entered, relief flooding his features. "Buffy," he sprang up from his seat, his eye widening in disbelief. He had assumed that she wouldn't return.
Buffy stepped into the living room, her fingers deftly unbuttoning her coat. The warmth of the hearth enveloped her, and she let out a contented sigh. She gracefully lowered herself into the plush armchair, situating herself right beside him on the couch.
Xander watched as she gracefully lowered herself onto the cushioned seat, her movements fluid and effortless. He followed suit, mirroring her actions as he settled into the chair beside her.
Buffy pursed her lips tightly together. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one vying for her attention. She tried to focus on one, but it slipped away as another took its place. She felt like she was drowning in her mind, unable to make sense of anything. She closed her eyes, hoping to find some clarity, but all she found was darkness. She opened them again, feeling more lost than ever. Buffy's mind was in turmoil as she walked aimlessly through the dark streets. She needed to clear her head and find some peace.
As she wandered, she found herself in a cemetery, surrounded by eerie tombstones and looming trees. To her surprise, a few vampires emerged from their graves, their eyes glowing with a sinister hunger. Memories of the past decade were lost to her, like a book with pages torn out. But even amid her confusion, she found comfort in one thing: slaying. She could feel the power coursing through her veins, the strength in her muscles, and the sharpness of her mind. It was as if her body had become a weapon, her skills honed to perfection.
The silence between them was thick and tense as if it could be cut with a knife. Finally, she spoke up, her voice firm and unwavering. "You should've told me," she said, her eyes fixed on him.
"I wanted to. So badly. But, the doctor recommended that I tell you as little as possible in order for you to get your memory back."
"And if it never comes back?" she asked, her voice soft and tentative. The question hung in the air, heavy and foreboding.
"Buf," he exhaled a breath, "it's been a week." He looked at him with a hint of amusement in his eye. "It's a little too early for 'never', don't cha think?" he said, his voice laced with a playful tone.
She gazed at him with a pensive expression, her mind racing to find a counterargument. But as he spoke, his words resonated with a certain undeniable truth that she couldn't ignore. She reluctantly nodded her head, conceding defeat to his logic. "Where has, um, Josh been staying?"
"With Willow and sometimes Giles looks after him."
Buffy's head drooped as she nodded silently, her hand cradling her forehead. A wave of weariness washed over her, leaving her feeling drained and depleted. "This is a lot."
"I know," he swallowed hard.
"You and me… that's a lot, too," she said softly.
"I know." Xander's eye narrowed as he felt his jaw clench involuntarily.
Buffy lowered her eyes to her shoes, her palms pressed tightly together. She tucked them between her knees. "What happened with Anya?"
"She died," he replied, his gaze fixed on the ground. "In the battle that made Sunnydale a crater. She was killed."
Her voice was soft and gentle as she spoke the words, her eyes filled with genuine remorse. "I'm sorry," she said, her tone conveying a deep sense of sympathy.
He looked at her and smiled, "Me, too."
Buffy furrowed her brow, trying to gather her thoughts and find the right words to ask her next question. She shook her head slightly as if to clear her mind and focus on the task at hand. With a mix of curiosity and embarrassment, Buffy asked, "How did you and I… you know? When did we…"
The corners of his mouth tugged ever so slightly upwards into a gentle smile. "Seven years ago."
"That's a long time ago," she said softly in disbelief.
Xander's eye flickered with understanding as he gave a small nod. As they sat together the air between them crackled with a newfound tension, and they both felt it. "We just… got closer. Like old times. And after a month, I dunno…" he shrugged, falling into the depths of her gaze, "... You looked at me with those big hazel-green eyes and… I kissed you."
"You kissed me?" she asked, her eyes wide with surprise. "Why?"
He looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eye and answered truthfully, "I wanted to." He couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room. "I was so sure you were going to shove me away and smack me across the face."
A faint smile crept across her lips as she envisioned the fear that must have gripped him at that moment. "But I didn't."
He shook his head slowly, his gaze fixed on her. "No, you didn't," he said firmly. "After that, we fell in love. Hard and fast. And, like, 2 months later, I was on my knee, promising you my heart forever. Weeks or maybe a month later, we were married."
She spoke with a hint of surprise in her voice. "It happened so fast."
"We knew what we wanted," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, looking straight into her eyes.
Buffy's gaze drifted down to her hands, which lay still in her lap. She felt a strange hollowness inside upon hearing his words. Buffy was a woman of two minds. One version of her, with a clear memory, had a strong sense of purpose and knew exactly what she wanted. The other version, plagued by amnesia, was lost and uncertain, unable to even recognise herself.
"And Josh?"
"Joshua Rupert Harris was born on April 29, 2009, at 9:45 P.M. at the Watchers Council Medical Infirmary. He was 19.7 inches long and he weighed 7 pounds and 8 ounces."
Buffy let out a long, deep breath and sank back into the chair. She was completely overwhelmed. Her mind wandered back to the day when she had returned home from the hospital and the startling discoveries she had made in the bathroom. "A few days ago," she began, "I found open boxes of pregnancy tests. I thought..." she sighed, "... I don't know what I thought. But, we were planning something, right?" she asked.
"We were." Xander leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and nodded once more. "Another kid." He watched her intently, taking in every detail as she processed the unexpected information.
The idea of motherhood consumed her thoughts. It was a surreal feeling, one that she couldn't quite put into words. The thought of being responsible for not just one, but multiple little lives was terrifying. She couldn't help but wonder how she would manage it all: the slaying, the Council, and motherhood.
After the intense battle with the mayor, she found herself lost in the chaos of the present. The future seemed like a distant dream, and the idea of motherhood was something she had not even considered. The weight of the world was heavy on her shoulders, and she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find her way back to a sense of normalcy—if normal would be a gift she is ever given.
She let out a deep sigh and slumped her shoulders, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. "I'm tired," she stated. It had been a very long day, filled with endless shocking discoveries that had drained her energy. She longed for the comfort of her bed, the softness of her pillow, the warmth of her blankets, and a few hours to shut down her mind.
Xander nodded slowly. "Okay."
"I'm… My head is spinning."
He nodded his head again in agreement. "I know."
"I need time to think," she told him. "Or not think," Buffy let out a deep breath.
"Of course," he replied, his voice soft and understanding.
Buffy stood up, her movements slow and deliberate. She pivoted on her heel, taking in her surroundings with a careful eye. She had been ready to leave, but something made her hesitate. With a subtle movement, she tilted her head to the side, as if listening to a distant sound. She looked at him. "Thank you for being honest," she said softly.
Xander's heart raced as he struggled to contain the overwhelming emotion that threatened to consume him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the lump in his throat only seemed to grow larger. With a silent gulp, he forced the emotion down, burying it deep within himself. With a subtle movement of his head, he acknowledged her words.
Buffy made her way out of the room and began to ascend the stairs. Each step felt like a weight on her shoulders as if the very act of climbing was a burden. She knew where she was headed—the master bedroom. She pressed on, until reaching the top of the stairs and turned left, her hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Xander sat in the living room, the silence of the house enveloping him. The room felt cold and empty, and he couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that crept up on him. Xander closed his eye and tried to push away the thoughts about Buffy that threatened to overwhelm him. He had been holding his breath for what felt like an eternity and let out a deep exhale and sank back into the couch, his hands covering his face. He sat there for a long while, lost in thought, trying to process what had just happened.
That was it, the voice in his head told. She knows everything.
Next Morning
Kitchen
Xander took a deep breath and buttoned up his flannel, feeling the soft fabric against his skin. He descended the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the house. As he entered the kitchen, he paused and saw Buffy sitting on a stool at the counter island, her eyes fixed out the window. She held a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, the aroma filling the room. Xander couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as he looked at her. She seemed lost in thought, her expression distant and pensive. He wondered what was going through her mind as he approached her.
The night had been long and restless for him. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to drift off into slumber. His phone was clutched tightly in his hand, and his eye fixated on the screen. He scrolled through his gallery, watching the same one-minute videos of his stunning wife over and over again. The memories of their happy times together played like a supercut in his mind, but they only served to keep him awake.
"Morning," Xander's voice broke through the silence. Buffy, lost in thought, was jolted back to reality by his greeting.
She turned her head, watching him enter the kitchen with a confident stride. He strode towards the cabinet and reached for a mug and poured himself a cup.
He turned to face her, his back pressing against the cool surface of the kitchen counter and asked, "How'd you, um, sleep?" His voice was low and husky, betraying the restless night he had spent tossing and turning. With a steaming mug of coffee in hand, he took a slow sip, savouring the rich flavour as he studied her.
She shook her head, her eyes fixed on the mug between her hands. "Didn't," she replied softly. "My brain wouldn't turn off." For the better part of the night, Buffy sat in the corner chair of her bedroom, staring out the window into the darkness. She had been trying to piece together the last thirteen years of her life, trying to make sense of it all. By the time the sun began to rise, she realised that she hadn't slept a wink. "Um, you?"
"Same."
The air between them grew thick with tension. Neither of them spoke, and the silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like a weight pressing down on their chests. They both knew that something needed to be said, but neither of them wanted to be the first to break the silence. So they sat there, staring at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. But the longer they sat in silence, the more it seemed like the words they needed to say would never come.
She stared deeply into his gaze and saw something in his eye. It was a look of longing and desire, one that she had never seen before. His behaviour and reluctance to leave her alone now all made sense. He was just being a good and supportive husband.
The thought of being married to Xander, the man she had been best friends with for years, still seemed like a foreign concept to her. Xander Harris, her husband and the father of her only child, it was shocking, to say the least.
"Here." Xander gently set down a small, velvet box on the smooth surface of the island. With a smooth motion, he pushed the object across the table towards her.
Buffy's eyes lowered to the box with intrigue and reached for it. She lifted the lid with a gentle creak. As she peered inside, a rush of emotions flooded her senses. Inside, nestled in a bed of soft fabric, lay two delicate rings. The first was a slim band of shimmering rose gold, its surface expertly hammered to create a subtle texture. The second was a breathtaking rose quartz engagement ring, its pale pink hue catching the light and casting a warm glow across the room.
He brushed the back of his hair with his fingers before replying, "Your rings." She looked at him with a mixture of confusion and surprise. "I thought you'd want them back."
Buffy's eyes remained fixed on the rings nestled within the box, her lips pursed in a tight line. She didn't say a word, but her thoughts were racing a mile a minute. She took a deep breath and reached out to pick up the rings, her hand trembling slightly as she did so. She delicately removed the items from their place and examined them closely. The jewels glimmered in the sunlight, their facets catching and reflecting the rays in a dazzling display. Their radiance was almost blinding, and their beauty was undeniable. As she held the smooth, pink stone in her hand, she couldn't help but wonder about its significance. She had heard that rose quartz was a powerful crystal, known for its ability to attract love and promote healing. But she wanted to know more. Why did he choose this rock? As she gazed at the stone, she felt a sense of calm wash over her.
Xander's body swayed gently from side to side. He shoved his hands deep into the front pockets of his faded blue jeans, feeling the rough fabric against his skin. "I was gonna see Josh today. Did you, um, wanna go? He asks about you constantly."
Buffy gazed down at the rings between her fingers, her thoughts swirling around her like a tempestuous storm. After a few moments, Buffy returned the rings into the plush interior of the ring box.
Xander's heart raced as he tried to decipher the meaning behind her silence. He couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he began to backtrack. "You don't… I mean, if you're not ready…" He searched her face for any clues, but her expression remained unreadable.
He was taken aback by her response. "I'll go," she said, her voice steady and resolute.
"R-really?" He had expected her to hesitate, to express some doubt or uncertainty, but instead, she had surprised him with her unwavering determination. He looked at her, trying to read her expression, but her face was inscrutable. "Th-that's great," his lips curved upward and the corners of his eyes crinkled as his smile reached his eyes.
Buffy's eyes locked onto Xander's, her mind racing with uncertainty. She wondered what kind of mother she had become, and if she was doing everything she could to raise him right. Her mind raced with questions and doubts. Was she strict? Or as well-meaning as her own mother? Or did she inherit her father's lack of responsibility becoming just as absent and shiftless as he had been?
As the director of the Council, her days were consumed by a never-ending stream of tasks and responsibilities. The demands of the role were great, and it was clear that she had little time for anything else. She wondered to herself how often she spent time with her son. She wondered if she was truly attentive and present. Did she encourage the preschooler to indulge in his imagination?
She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting around the kitchen as if searching for an excuse to avert her gaze from… her husband. Finally, she spoke up, her voice soft and uncertain. "Um, let me go get my shoes," she said, gracefully stepping down from the stool and making her way out of the kitchen.
Xander let out a deep sigh and ran his hand through his dark hair, feeling the weight of the day that lay ahead for them.
Notting Hill, London
Willow's Residence
Buffy's heart raced as she stood in the foyer of Willow's apartment. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the city outside. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but it was no use. She was too nervous, too anxious. The realisation began to sink in. In just a few moments, she would finally come face to face with her son.
I have a son.
Willow kept Buffy company while Xander tried to coax Josh out of the guest room where he had been staying. "Giles said you went to the Council," Willow said, trying to ease the Slayer's obvious tension.
Buffy shook her head nervously, her eyes fixed on Willow. " 's very, um... big," she murmured.
A soft chuckle escaped Willow's lips, as she found amusement in the situation. "Yeah. It's really easy to get lost in there. I've actually gotten lost in there twice." She admitted, with a hint of embarrassment.
Buffy quipped, "Doesn't help that the walls keep moving," which caused the wiccan to burst into laughter.
As they spoke, the room was filled with the sound of tiny feet pitter-pattering across the wooden floor, interrupting their conversation. Buffy and Willow stood in the foyer. Buffy's gaze was fixed on the hallway, her heart racing with excitement.
As Xander pushed the guest room door open, the burst of energy came bounding out in the form of a lively 4-year-old child. The child's eyes sparkled with excitement as they landed on his mother, who stood at the end of the corridor, her stance poised and arms folded across her chest. He charged towards her, his muscles coiled like a spring, his mind focused on reaching her. The air rushed past him as he closed the distance between them, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, in a burst of energy, he launched himself towards her, his body hurtling through the air like a missile.
"Mommy!" Buffy felt Josh's weight collide with her, causing her to stumble backwards. She quickly regained her balance and held him tightly as he let out a piercing laughing scream.
As Buffy cradled the young child in her arms, she felt a familiar and unsettling sensation wash over her. It was as if she was no longer in control of her own body. The sensation of holding him in her arms felt so natural, as though it was something she had done countless times before. It was as if her body and soul recognised him on a primal level, and the feelings that stirred within her were instinctual, impossible to ignore. She struggled to keep her composure as she held onto the child tightly.
With a big smile on his face, Josh wrapped his little arms tightly around her neck, holding on as if he never wanted to let go.
Buffy couldn't believe her eyes as she looked at the little preschooler in her arms. It was hard to believe that for nine long months, she had carried a tiny bundle of explosive energy within her. As she gazed into Josh's eyes, she couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance they shared. Their eyes were nearly identical, save for the subtle difference in colour. His broad smile was just like Xander's. It was warm and inviting, with a hint of mischief. Buffy's head spun as she came to the realisation that Xander Harris was the father.
"Let's be gentle with mommy," Xander said softly, his hand gently rubbing the back of the 4-year-old. "She's still healing."
"Mommy needs soup and belly rubs!" Josh pulled back and gazed into her eyes.
She looked at him with a mixture of concern and confusion. "Is that what I do when you don't feel good? Soup and belly rubs?" she asked.
She couldn't help but smile at the sight of Josh's adorable toothy grin. He nodded his head excitedly, his dark eyes shining with anticipation. Buffy's heart fluttered as she gazed into his eyes, her fingers delicately brushing back his floppy hair, and lowered him back down to his feet.
"Always makes you feel better, doesn't it, bud?" Xander playfully tousled Josh's hair, eliciting a giggle from the preschooler.
"Mom!" Josh reached out and took Buffy's hand in his own. With a wide grin on his face, he began to jump up and down, his feet pounding the ground in excitement. "Mom! Mommy!" He dashed into the adjacent room. After a few moments, he emerged, clutching a small stack of computer paper in his hands. The pages were filled with intricate drawings, each one a testament to his creativity and skill. "Look what I made!" He shoved the drawings into Buffy's hands.
Buffy's eyes drifted down to the drawings of stick figures that adorned the page before her. The figures depicted herself, Xander, Josh, and their house. Despite their simplicity, the drawings held a certain charm and nostalgia, despite her lack of memories. As she sifted through the drawings, her eyes fell upon a drawing that caught her attention. It depicted two figures, one of which was undoubtedly her, and the other, a young boy who bore a striking resemblance to Josh. The scene was set in what appeared to be a playground, but the details were indistinct and childlike.
Josh leaned in closer to Buffy, his eyes fixed on the artwork in her hands. "Aunt Willow helped me with the hard parts," he admitted, his voice filled with pride.
"They're, um… gr-great, J-Josh," she managed to stammer out, her voice trembling. She offered him a shaky smile, hoping he wouldn't notice how uncomfortable she was.
Buffy stared at the illustrations. The world around her seemed to slow down as she tried to calm her nerves. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more chaotic and confused than the last. She was spiralling, lost in the depths of her own mind.
Xander's keen senses picked up on Buffy's distress and he knew he had to intervene. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and placed himself between Buffy and Josh. He gently ushered Josh away from her, giving her some much-needed breathing room. He worried that it would all be too much, too soon for Buffy. The last thing he wanted was for her to panic and run for the hills.
"Joshy, let's give your mom some breathing room," Xander suggested in a calm tone.
"Joshy," Willow gently rubbed Josh's back. "Did you tell your mom about the spaceship that you got for good listening?" she asked.
Josh's eyes were fixed on his mother's face, and a deep sense of worry crept over him. His eyebrows furrow in concern. Slowly, he extended his hand towards hers, reaching for her hand. "Mom, are you sick?"
Buffy's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at the 4-year-old standing before her. "Um…"
With a quick glance in the Slayer's direction, Xander smoothly interjected, "She's tired." Buffy blew out a breath, grateful for Xander's intuition and sensitivity and flashed him a tight smile.
Josh's eyes widened as he nodded his head slowly, his lips forming a perfect 'O' shape as he processed the information. "Mom needs a nap."
With a sly grin, Xander replied, "Yeah, bud, Mom needs a nap. Speaking of which, I know it's somebody's nap time."
"I don't wanna!" The preschooler whined, crossing his arms and pouting. With a sudden jolt, Josh wrenched his hand free from Xander's grip and took off running towards the living room. He darted through the entryway, his eyes scanning the room for a place to hide. His eyes landed on the couch, and without hesitation, he dove underneath it. The darkness enveloped him, and he held his breath, hoping that he wouldn't be found.
Xander stepped into the living room, taking a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves and keep his emotions in check. "Josh…"
"No, nap!" Josh lay underneath the couch, whimpering softly. "I'm not tired!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with defiance.
Xander took a seat on the coffee table, his hand coming up to massage his tired face. "Come out from under there, please." He leaned down, he could see a faint outline of a small figure huddled in the shadows. "It's time to come out now."
"No, nap!"
"Joshy, c'mon, kiddo," he said with a gentle smile, extending his hand towards the little boy.
"No!" Josh exclaimed. The exhaustion from the day had finally caught up with him and let out a yawn. "No, nap!"
Xander's patience was wearing thin as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Josh's episodes were like a raging storm, testing his forbearance and pushing him to the brink of his sanity. They were similar to his own temper tantrums. "Josh…"
Buffy stepped into the living room, her eyes landed on Xander. She approached him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Xander's eye lifted from the floor to meet her gaze, his heart skipping a beat at the sudden appearance.
She stole a fleeting glance at him, her eyes conveying a silent plea to have a chance. Despite her lack of memories, her body seemed to remember what to do. As she surveyed the scene before her, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. She knew exactly how to handle this situation.
Buffy gracefully lowered herself onto the floor next to Xander, who was seated on the coffee table. With a tender tone, she called out to her son, "Joshua, sweetheart?"
"Mommy?" Josh's tired voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke, his words hesitant and uncertain.
Buffy flashed a tugging smile as she spoke, "Yeah, bug, it's me." She peered under the bed. "Can you please come out from under there?" she called out.
"I'm not tired," he complained, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn.
She looked at him with a sly smile, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh, I think you are," she said, her voice low and teasing. "Awake little boys don't act like this. Only sleepy boys do." Buffy extended her hand out towards him from under the couch. "Come on out, honey," she said softly. "I'd like to see your room. Aunt Willow says that you got a spaceship for good listening. Can I see it?"
Buffy waited anxiously as a minute ticked by. Suddenly, Josh emerged from under the couch and threw his arms around her with such intensity that she nearly lost her balance. He held her close, his little arms wrapped tightly around her neck as he circled his legs around her waist. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, seeking comfort and solace in her embrace.
Buffy took a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of familiarity with the boy in her arms. Though she didn't have any memories of him, he felt a sense of completeness wash over her. It was as if he was always meant to be there, nestled in the safety of her embrace. The weight of his little body against hers was comforting. The sensation was elusive, yet familiar, like a distant dream that she couldn't quite grasp.
I have a son.
Buffy held Josh close to her chest as she rose to her feet, standing next to Xander who stared at her in disbelief.
"I'll, um..." she trailed off, her eyes darting nervously between the boy in her arms and Xander.
Willow stood in the entryway of the living room, watching the scene before her. "His room is straight down the hallway. Last door on the left."
Buffy nodded, her eyes darting over to Xander for a moment before making her way down the dimly lit hallway. The door to the bedroom creaked open, and she stepped inside.
Willow strolled into the room and took a seat on the couch, opposite Xander. "Well," she said, "that was a very pre-amnesia Buffy thing to do."
"Coax Josh out from under a couch?" Xander's hand instinctively went to the back of his neck as he posed his question.
Willow smiled as she spoke, "Yeah. Buffy always had the 'special touch' with Josh's tantrums," she observed. "What is it?" She furrowed brows. "Do you not think she's getting better?"
Xander rose from the coffee table, pacing back and forth, with his hands on his hips. He paused by the window, gazing out onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians bustled along the sidewalk, each with their own destination and purpose. He couldn't help but wonder where they were all headed, what their lives were like beyond this moment. "I dunno, Will. She completely wigged out yesterday when she found out."
The Wiccan gazed at Xander with a look of understanding and empathy. "I can't say that I blame her," she commented softly. Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.
Xander nodded in agreement. "Me either. But…" Slowly, he turned his body to face the redhead. "She won't look at me. She's hardly said more than a few words today." He stood there, defeated, as his arms fell limply to his sides. "I messed up," he muttered under his breath, the weight of his mistake heavy on his shoulders. "We haven't argued like that since… Jeez, I don't even remember. Sunnydale… maybe? God, Will…" he sighed. "... I just want everything the way it was before. When my wife knew who I was and loved me and recognised her own kid. Every day that passes, I feel like my girl slipping further from my grasp."
"Xander, Buffy loves you."
Xander's head drooped, unconvinced by whatever argument had been presented to him.
The Wiccan's voice was firm as she spoke. "She does," she emphasised, her eyes fixed on him. "I know it's difficult to see it now, but she does. She just… She needs time. Give her time."
"I can't wait another decade for her to figure out that she loves me, Will. I can't. I just want her back."
Willow leaned forward, her hand reaching out to grasp Xander's. "I know."
Down the dimly lit hallway, Buffy strained to hear the conversation taking place just beyond a few feet in front of her. Her heart was heavy as she listened to Xander, feeling a deep sense of empathy for him. Despite his brave face and his attempts to hide his emotions, Buffy could sense the turmoil within him. In a flash, their entire world turned upside down, changing possibly forever. She knew that Xander deserved so much more than this.
Before this amnesia, they had a wonderful life together. They were the source of each other's happiness. They had plans together. Their life was next to perfect.
A dark cloud of doubt hovered over her head as she contemplated the possibility of not living up to his lofty expectations. He had placed her on a pedestal, and the thought of falling short of his memory of her was petrifying.
Buffy took a deep breath and stepped back into the living room. Xander's attention was drawn to the distinct sound of heels tapping against the polished hardwood floor. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her approach, her boots announcing her arrival with each step.
"Buffy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He hoped she hadn't heard the slight meltdown and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "I was thinking," he began slowly, "maybe you, me, and Josh would like to, um, go to lunch... like we used to." Her voice trailed off uncertainty, and he bit his lip, waiting for his response.
Buffy shifted her eyes away from Xander and turned to Willow, remaining silent in response to his proposal. "How long will, um, Josh be staying here?" Buffy asked, ignoring his question entirely.
Xander's response was quick and decisive. "Until you're better," he said.
"It's no problem at all, Buffy," Willow said. A small smile graced her lips as she spoke, her eyes meeting Buffy's with warmth and understanding. "We were gonna do a movie night tonight. There'll be popcorn and other sweets—U-unless, you say no."
"No…" She hugged her arms tightly around her slender frame and replied, "That-that's fine." "Right?" Buffy's eyes lifted to meet Xander's as she asked.
Xander gave a small nod before placing his hand gently on her lower back. "Right," he said with a smirk.
Buffy recoiled from his touch, feeling a sense of unease wash over her. She could sense his disappointment as she pulled away, catching a glimpse of hurt in his eye. She hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I think I'm going to rain check on lunch today," she said. "I'm kind of…"
"No problem," he replied without hesitation, not wanting to overwhelm her with their usual routine before she was prepared.
"I'm gonna go for a walk." Buffy announced, heading into the foyer. She reached out her hand to retrieve her coat on the back of a chair, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric.
Xander trailed behind her. "I can—"
Buffy hung her coat over her arm and reached behind her for the doorknob. "No, no," she insisted. "I can manage on my own," she declared, her voice steady and unwavering. "I'll, um, see you later." Buffy turned the doorknob behind her and made a quick escape.
Xander's heart sank as he watched Buffy rush out of the apartment, leaving him alone. She was eager to put as much distance between them as possible. Xander gritted his teeth, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. He knew that he couldn't force Buffy to feel the same way he did, but it didn't make the rejection any easier.
He leaned back on his heels, his hand absentmindedly rubbing his rough chin. His eye flicked over to Willow, who was standing in the living room with a defeated expression. He couldn't help but give her a small, knowing smile—the kind that said "I told you so" without actually saying it.
Night
Campden Hill Road, London
Harris' Residence: Study
As the moon rose high in the sky, Buffy found herself drawn back into the study. She walked over to the box on the desk with photographs of her family and gazed at them. She gazed intently at the photograph, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinised her own expression. In the picture, she was looking up at Xander with an unmistakable adoration, her heart overflowing with love for him. It was still extremely bizarre to think of him as anything other than a close friend.
Xander. She stared blankly at the photo. How the hell did I fall in love with Xander?
As she rummaged through the desk drawers, her fingers brushed against a black rectangular object. Curiosity piqued, she pulled out the object and gasped in surprise. It was an iPhone 5S, hidden away by Xander. She turned on the device and furrowed her brow in concentration as she punched in the numbers on the keypad. The first attempt was unsuccessful, and she let out a frustrated sigh. She tried again, her fingers moving with more purpose this time. Still, the keypad beeped at her in disapproval. She took a deep breath and tried a third time. Finally, she heard the satisfying click of the lock opening. She smiled to herself, feeling a sense of accomplishment. It may have taken a few attempts, but she had figured out the 4-digit pin number. As fate would have it, the pin number that Xander had set for her new cell phone the other day was the very same one.
Buffy clicked open the Photos application on the phone. She scrolled through the endless stream of images, each one a precious memory. Her eyes landed on a series of photos from a few years ago, when Josh was still a baby.
As she scrolled through the endless stream of digital memories, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer volume of her life that had been captured through the lens of a camera. Each photo and video clip was like a tiny time capsule.
She stumbled upon a collection of photographs that immediately caught her eye. The images featured her and Xander. They lay side by side, their bodies entwined in a comfortable embrace. As they lay there content, Buffy nestled her head on his chest. She draped a lazy arm across his lean stomach. He held her close, with one arm wrapped around her bare back and his cheek resting on the top of her head. With a slanted grin on his face, he lifted the camera high above their heads, capturing the moment in a single shot.
She scrolled through the cell phone. Her thumb moved methodically over the screen, tracing a path through countless old text conversations. But then, as if by fate, she stumbled upon a name that made her heart skip a beat: Angel. Her eyes widened as she clicked on the conversation, her mind racing with memories of their past interactions. She read through each message with a mix of excitement and trepidation, reliving the moments they had shared together. It was as if she was transported back in time, to a place she recognised when he was still in her life. Despite the passage of time, they managed to keep in touch.
Their conversation was cordial and formal, with a clear emphasis on matters of commerce.
Buffy pondered the state of her relationship with the souled vampire. She couldn't quite tell if they were on good terms or if he was still keeping his distance because of his long-standing feud with Xander. It was frustrating not having the memory to know where she stood with him.
The number on the screen seemed to taunt her, daring her to take action. She knew she shouldn't call him, knew it was dangerous to even consider it. She hesitated for a moment longer, then with a deep breath, she dialled the number, effectively ignoring the voice in her head demanding to know what she was doing.
Buffy chewed on the inside of her cheek, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for the call to connect. She stood there, the phone pressed against her ear, biting with anticipation as she waited for him to pick up.
A strange sensation began to stir within her. It was a knot, a tightness, that seemed to be forming in her chest. It was a feeling that she couldn't quite put her finger on, but it was suspiciously familiar. It was a feeling that she had felt before, a feeling that she had tried to ignore, but it was back again. It was guilt. It was as if she were betraying Xander, her husband, by reaching out to her ex. She couldn't shake the feeling of deceitfulness that lingered in the back of her mind, but she couldn't ignore the urge to reconnect with her ex either. It was a complicated situation, one that left her feeling torn and unsure of what to do next.
She couldn't bear to look at the photograph of herself and Xander any longer. With a heavy heart, she promptly flipped it over, hiding it from view.
"You're just going to ask questions," she mumbled to herself, her mind racing with thoughts and doubts. "Asking questions isn't cheating." The nagging voice in her head was relentless, whispering words of fear and uncertainty. "Besides, Xander isn't… well, it's complicated, but you don't remember marrying him so—"
"Hello?" Angel's voice suddenly broke through the back-and-forth battle in her mind. It was deep and velvety, sending shivers down her spine.
"Hey."
"Buffy," he breathed, his voice laced with surprise.
"Where're you?" she asked.
"Actually," he cleared his throat. "I'm in London."
Buffy's heart skipped a beat as her eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"
Angel let out a soft chuckle. "Really."
Knock. Knock. Knock. Buffy whirled around to the soft tapping at the door. She jumped slightly, her heart racing as she wondered who could be calling on her at this hour.
Buffy's hand trembled holding the phone to her ear. She approached the front door, her hand reaching out to grasp the cool metal handle. With a gentle twist, she unlocked the bolt lock and reached out and wrapped her fingers around the cool, smooth surface of the bronze lever. Her heart pounded in her chest as she began to count down from three then pulled open the door.
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up into Angel's familiar chocolate-brown eyes. He stood over her with a sly grin on his face. Buffy felt a rush of emotions. He looked just as handsome as the last time she had seen him in Sunnydale. She tried to compose herself, but her mind was racing with memories of their past.
He flashed a small grin and spoke, "Well, at least you could tell me you're glad to see me."
Buffy lowered the phone from her ear and walked towards him, her eyes locked on his face. She tilted her head back, her eyes fixed on his mouth, and pressed her lips against his with fervour.
A minute later, Angel pulled away from the kiss, his hand still cupping her cheek. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they simply gazed at each other in silence. He withdrew his cool hand slowly, savouring the softness of her skin, and took a step back. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with emotion. With a tugging grin, he remarked, "Well, I guess that qualifies as 'happy to see me'."
Buffy couldn't believe her eyes. "Angel, what are you doing?" She paused and shook her head and asked, "Don't even," she said sharply, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him. "I just want to bask," she said with a smile, gazing deeply into his soulful chocolate eyes. For a moment, she lost herself in the warmth of his gaze, but then she quickly snapped out of it and took a step back. "Okay, I'm basked. What are you doing here?"
As he stepped into the residence, he spoke in a low voice, "I heard about what happened. I wanted to check on you in person," he told her. "Well, you look okay," he said, his gaze rolling up and down her petite frame.
"I had wicked scrapes and bruises and I broke a few ribs but other than that…" She shut the door behind them, she turned to him, "Oh, and I have a slight case of amnesia. So other, other than that… peachy with a side of keen, that would be me." she thought to herself with a wry smile.
"Amnesia?"
Buffy shrugged nonchalantly, her arms folding across her chest. "I can't remember anything past 2000," she admitted with a sigh. "Angel, everything's just been so…" she trailed off, her voice heavy with exhaustion, "My mom died… My boyfriend left me… Apparently, literal death was my gift… I'm the Director of an institution I swore I'd never be a part of again…" Buffy cast her gaze downwards towards the floor, experiencing the familiar sensation of guilt tightening in her chest. "And I'm married to someone I only ever thought of as a friend and we have a 4-year-old kid."
Angel trailed behind her as she made her way into the living room. He observed her as she lowered herself onto the plush couch.
"I have no idea who I am. I have no idea what I'm doing." She took a deep breath. "This is too much," she whispered to herself, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes.
He moved closer to her, feeling the warmth of her body beside him. He reached out and gently took her hand, which was resting in her lap. Their fingers intertwined, and he felt a sense of comfort and connection with her. "I know you don't feel like it now, but you are strong, Buffy. You're gonna figure this out. And you have people help you. You don't have to do this alone. You have Xander."
"Xander…" She whispered his name, hoping that it would trigger something, anything, to help her recall their apparently loving and tender relationship. But when she gazed at the pictures and she thought about him now, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. She yearned for the same instinctive feeling she had experienced with Josh. She felt a pang of guilt. He'd gaze at her with such obvious affection. She knew he cared for her deeply, but she just couldn't seem to muster up the same feelings in return. It weighed heavily on her heart, knowing that she was causing him pain by not reciprocating his love. She tried to push the guilt aside, but it lingered like a dark cloud over her head, casting its shadow over her. "He wants me so badly to remember our life together. Were we happy? Do I really love him? What do a few pictures really say?"
Angel swallowed hard, trying to push down the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. "You do," he repeated. Despite the agony he felt inside, he managed to keep his voice steady, his face a mask of calm. The thought of her being with someone else was too much to bear.
When he heard the news of Buffy and Xander, he couldn't believe it. But the shock didn't end there. When he found out that they had a child together, his heart shattered into a million pieces. He had to finally let go of his dreams of being with Buffy, no matter how much it pained him. He'd do anything for her. "You love him," he said softly.
"I don't feel like it. He just feels like 'Xander'. My Xander-shaped friend Xander." She couldn't imagine him being called anything else but her friend.
"Give it time."
Buffy leaned back against the plush couch, her slender frame sinking into the cushions. She crossed one leg over the other, her eyes fixed on her ex-lover. With a hint of curiosity in her voice, she asked, "What was the highlight of our relationship? When you broke up with me or when I killed you?
Angel couldn't help but chuckle as he recalled the identical conversation they had in Restfield Cemetery years ago. Buffy had no memory of the conversation that had taken place, yet she found herself repeating a significant amount of what she had apparently said at the time. It was as if her mind had been wiped clean, leaving behind only fragments of the past.
"Cookie dough," he mumbled.
"Huh? What?" Buffy's brows furrowed.
Angel chuckled softly. "You said that you were like cookie dough," he continued, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"I did?" She raised the arch of her brow, trying to recall the conversation. "When did I say that?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.
"A long time ago. You said that you weren't done baking," he explained.
"Huh?" She looked at him with a mixture of confusion and amusement.
"You weren't finished becoming whoever you were gonna turn out to be and in time, you'd be ready to, um, enjoy cookie you." He turned his gaze to her face and found her gazing at him, her brow furrowed and she raised it slightly, silently questioning his sanity. "It was a strange analogy, but the sentiment is there."
"I think I get it." Buffy couldn't help but smile at his words. It was a strange way of putting it, but she understood what he meant. Life was a journey, and she was still on the path to discovering who she truly was. But one day, she would get there, and she would savour every moment of it, just like she would savour a warm, gooey cookie. "Sooner or later, I'd be cookies. Ready to give myself to someone to enjoy warm, delicious cookie me."
Angel nodded, lowering his eyes to his hands.
"I really said that?"
"You did," Angel looked at her.
"How many times did I hit my head?" she said jokingly.
Angel's laughter echoed through the room, filling the air with a joyous melody. His head tilted back as he chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"I guess Xander is the one dipping his hand into the cookie jar," she thought aloud.
Angel felt a sudden wave of nausea as his mind conjured up an unwelcome image of Buffy and her husband engaged in an intimate act. His upper lip curled in disgust at the thought, his mind struggling to push the image away.
As the echoes of their laughter faded away, Buffy felt a warm sense of comfort wash over her. It was the first time she had felt like her usual self since the accident. It felt like an eternity since she's had a good laugh.
As she gazed into Angel's eyes, she felt a familiar sensation of butterflies fluttering in the pit of her stomach. A tingling chill ran down her spine, jolting her back to reality. The image of Xander was heartbroken if he would return to find her with her ex. It was best to steer clear of any potential conflicts. For a moment, she wondered about the state of Angel and Xander's relationship and if it was still as acrimonious as it was way back then.
"You should probably go," she said softly, trying to hide the sadness in her voice. He nodded, understanding the unspoken words that hung in the air between them.
The Vampire Slayer was taken aback when Angel unexpectedly spoke up. "We've gotten better," he said, his voice low and measured.
She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Me and Xander," he continued, seemingly reading her mind.
"Me and Xander…" she sighed. "We're in a weird thing right now."
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked,
Buffy's chest heaved as she exhaled a deep breath, her fingers deftly tucking the stray strands of hair that had escaped her tightly wound bun behind her ear. "He misses me—The memory-having me. It's frustrating for both of us," she said, her voice low and strained. "He wants something from me that I'm not sure I can give. What do I do?"
Angel couldn't help but be drawn in by the mesmerising gaze of her hazel-green eyes. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers in a tender, yet passionate kiss. The world around them seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the moment, savouring every second of their intimate connection. She parted her mouth, inviting him to explore the depths of her being with his tongue. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down her spine as she lost herself in the moment.
Buffy's lips parted from his with a suddenness that left him reeling. "Well, we can't do that." Her eyes lifted to meet his.
The silence between them was heavy, charged with an unspoken tension that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. He wanted to reach out to her, to pull her back into his arms and kiss her again, but something in her demeanour held him back.
Finally, she spoke, her voice low and hesitant. "I can't," she sighed. "I'm sorry. You better go." She felt conflicted. Her body and heart yearned to be with the vampire again, proving that not a day has gone by that she didn't want him, but her mind… The irritating voice in her head could stop screaming Xander's name at her. She swallowed the guilt lumped in her throat.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes downcast.
She gazed at him with a resolute expression and uttered a single word, "No. I'm so grateful that you came, Angel," she said, reaching for his hand. "I didn't think I was gonna be able to make it through another day."
Angel's heart raced as he reached out to touch Buffy's cheek. He couldn't resist the urge to run the back of his fingers over her soft skin. Buffy's eyes met his, and he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his body. The forbidden nature of their relationship only made it more thrilling. Angel pulled his hand away, trying to regain his composure. He knew he had to be careful, but being so near Buffy made it so hard to resist his desires.
The sound of the front door creaking open. They quickly pulled away from each other, their hearts racing with fear of being caught.
"What is this?" Xander stood in the entry of the living room, his fingers tightly wrapped around a plastic bag filled with the tantalising aroma of Indian takeout.
Angel rose to his feet, his hands slipping into his pockets as he kept a respectful distance from Buffy. "This is nothing," he said dismissively.
"Doesn't look like nothing," Xander glared across the room at Buffy. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded answers. As soon as she saw him, her heart skipped a beat. "What the hell are you even doing here?" Anger boiled within him, but he struggled to keep it in check. With a deep breath, Xander locked his eye with Angel, his expression a mix of fury and confusion. He couldn't help but smirk at her words. "What, you find out Buffy loses her memory and think 'I might take another crack at her'?" he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.
"That's not—" Buffy began to speak, but was cut off by his sudden interruption.
Xander's eye blazed with anger as he refused to listen to Buffy's explanation. He ignored the Vampire Slayer and stepped forward, confronting the vampire face to face.
Angel stood his ground, his expression calm but determined to remain non-confrontational, given the delicate situation.
"I come home to find my wife kissing her ex, I'm gonna have some goddamn questions? Explain to me, somebody, what the fuck is going on here?"
Buffy stood up, her eyes fixed on Xander. "I called him, Xander," she said firmly. "And he just happened to be in town after hearing what happened."
Xander glared at her with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "Oh, that's s'posed to make me feel better?"
Angry, Buffy stood in front of her husband, her eyes fixed on his face. "You have no idea what I've been going through! I have no idea who I am! I have a child! An actual child—and-and I'm married to a man I thought was my friend. 13 years of my life is in a black hole, Xander. 13 years. So, yeah, I called someone that was familiar. Someone I know I could trust."
In an instant, Xander's countenance twisted with agony, his features contorting in pain as he felt the breath leave his body. "You don't trust me?" His fury, which had been raging just moments before, dissipated.
Buffy's heart sank as she let out a heavy sigh. "I didn't say that," she knew she had spoken too boldly and regretted it instantly.
"You implied it, which is just the same as saying it." Xander's jaw tightened as he shifted his gaze back to Buffy, the Angel fading into the background. "Buffy," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much. This is killing me; To have you right here, but not. And I'm trying. I'm really trying to be the supportive husband that you need. Through sickness and health. That's the promise we made to each other, Buf. But, I turn my back for a second and he waltzes back in?"
Buffy's eyes fixated on him, her heart heavy with guilt. She stood there, frozen. She tried to speak, to express the jumble of emotions that were churning inside her, but her voice failed her. She felt a lump form in her throat, and her eyes began to well up with tears. She knew that she had to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come.
Agony etched in his features with a hardened expression that spoke of the intense pain he was experiencing. "It's a harsh reality when you figure out that the woman you love would rather be with someone else than you."
"Xander…"
He slowly stepped back, his hands raised in surrender. He needed a moment to catch his breath and clear his head. "I can't take this right now." Xander turned away, heading straight for the front door.
"Where're you going?" Buffy followed after him.
With a stern expression on his face, he uttered a single word, "Out," and then swiftly closed the door behind him. The sound of the latch clicking echoed through the room, leaving her alone in the silence.
Buffy's heart was heavy as she stood at the door, her palms pressed against the wood. She hung her head low, consumed by a deep sense of regret. In a sudden turn of events, everything spiralled out of control and the blame fell solely on her shoulders.
Walking aimlessly through Holland Park, replaying the argument in his head over and over again, Xander was beginning to see the end of his marriage. He couldn't bring himself to let go of her, especially after all they had been through together. Their love ignited rapidly and intensely. For so long he's loved her, edging on the line to be together or to not be together. Both of them fear ruining their already decade-long friendship.
Since arriving in London, they'd spent most of their free time together, making moon eyes at one another, and tossing flirtatious smiles.
Then he kissed her.
That single kiss changed their lives forever.
Xander recalled that on the day she told him she loved him, his eye welled up and his heart pounded violently in his chest. Nothing seemed real. Food never tasted better. The air has never felt cleaner. He was walking on sunshine; Buffy Summers loves him.
Buffy loves you, the voice in his head reminded him. Somewhere… in the deep seed of her stubborn brain, she remembers that.
There existed only one viable solution to this situation. Get her to love you again.
"She's done it once." A small smirk played at the corners of his lips as she thought to herself, "She can do it again." The words echoed in his mind.
Xander made his way back to the Harris' residence, it had been two hours since he had left.
As he approached the front door, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever might be waiting for him inside. He stepped into the residence, a hush fell over the surroundings. The only sound was the soft padding of his footsteps on the plush carpet.
He shut the door with a soft click and deposited his keys into a small bowl near the door. The familiar clink of metal on ceramic was a comforting sound, one that he had grown accustomed to over the years. As he unbuttoned his coat, he felt the weight of the day lift from his shoulders. With a sigh of relief, he hung the coat on one of the wall pegs, its familiar weight a reminder of the life he had built for himself.
Xander stepped into the living room, his eyes fell upon Buffy. She was seated in an armchair, her legs tucked neatly underneath her. Her expression was solemn, lost in thought until her gaze turned to him standing in the foyer.
"Where'd Dead Boy go?" Xander's eyes darted around the room as he spoke.
"He's gone," she replied, her voice trailing off into the silence of the room. She looked down at her hands, clasped tightly together in her lap, and felt a wave of sadness wash over her.
"Just came by for a quickie then?" he bitterly asked.
"Don't be an ass," she said, scowling at him.
Xander strode into the room, his lips pursed and his tongue bitten.
She watched him intently, her eyes tracing his every movement. She looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would understand. He stood there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. She knew she had to explain herself, but the words caught in her throat. "It's not what you think," she finally managed to say.
"Did you kiss him?"
Xander's heart raced as he waited in silence, the weight of the moment heavy on his shoulders. He tried to calm his nerves, but the effort was futile. The pause seemed to stretch on forever. He looked into her eyes, he knew the answer before she even spoke. The guilt-stricken expression on her face gave it all away. He could sense the weight of her conscience bearing down on her, and he braced himself for what was to come.
After a long pause, she let out a deep sigh and finally confessed, "Yes."
Xander spoke with conviction, his eye fixed on her. "It's what I think."
"I stopped it. It didn't feel… right." Her eyes dropped to the ground as she let out a deep breath. She looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness. "You're probably the reason why. It's probably subconscious," she said, almost to herself. "I just kept thinking about you," she confessed.
He let out a bitter mutter under his breath, his frustration palpable. "Glad I was in a thought," he said, his tone heavy with bitterness. "Buffy," he said, his voice soft. "I know this is really hard and confusing for you, but did you at all stop and think how hard and confusing this is for me?"
Buffy's eyes fell to the ground as she came to the realisation that she had been too focused on herself. She couldn't believe how self-absorbed she had been. Xander has been there for her, a constant source of support and comfort. He knew just what she needed, whether it was a listening ear, food, or some much-needed space. And he never hesitated to provide it, always putting her needs before his own.
"My wife doesn't even recognise that she's my wife. It's killing me."
As she watched him from across the room, she couldn't help but be struck by his incredible presence. There was something about him that was truly captivating, something that drew her in. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was so clear he was head over heels in love with her. He looked at her with a longing in his eye that he couldn't hide. He would do anything for her, even if it meant giving her the moon on a string.
He settled himself on the coffee table, facing her with a casual air. He looked into her eyes, searching for any hint of affection. "You don't love me now, but you did. At some point, you love me enough to marry me. We can get there again," he said, his voice soft and reassuring.
She slowly raised her eyes to his face.
"But," he said, flashing her a crooked smile that tugged at her heartstrings, "you have to give me a chance." He looked into her eyes, his voice trembling with emotion. "Please," he pleaded, "give me a chance to be the man you fell in love with."
She took a deep breath and made her decision. "Okay," she said softly, feeling a jolt of electricity run through her body. "You've really come a long way from the Spring Fling speech on a bench."
His lips curled up into a grin that stretched from ear to ear. "I had a decade to practise."
His mind buzzed with excitement and a plan already taking shape during his two hours wandering the winding paths, lost in thought and determination. Xander gently took her hand in his. He brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the palm of her hand.
