Xander didn't sleep well that night. Well, he slept even worse than he normally did. He didn't like the way he'd left things with Rory. Or, for that matter, how he'd left things with Lorelai. On the one hand, Rory thought that he thought she was basically Cordelia, which he really, really didn't. While Xander was the first person to admit that his foot spent a great deal of time in his own mouth, he rarely said things in anger. Being compared to Jess and (in his own mind) to Spike had made him say things that he didn't really mean.

Then there was the fact that Lorelai thought that he was some crime fighting vigilante and had been ever since he was fifteen. While that was more or less true, he still wasn't entirely happy that she knew about it. While Xander was by no means a secretive person, he had been happy in his role as the town's mysterious guy. In Stars Hollow, Xander wasn't the demon fighting man he'd been in Sunnydale. He was just a builder and carpenter, with a side-line in pretending to be a cult leader. Admittedly, he would soon be running a home for burnt out and traumatized Slayers, but Xander had kind of convinced himself that the lie he'd told the town about what the home would be was actually true. And in a way, it was.

Still, Lorelai didn't know that he was actually Van Helsing (although, really, he preferred the Batman comparison), and next time he saw Rory maybe there was a chance that he could remove his foot from his mouth. At least for a little while.

Before all of that, though, Xander needed some coffee. Unfortunately, Dawn seemed to have filched his stash, and Giles' tea just wouldn't cut it.

Xander was already sitting down at Luke's when he remembered that Luke had come barging out to tell him that he wasn't welcome there. "Oh, blast." Xander groaned. Luke raised an eyebrow at the unorthodox greeting. "Am I still banned?"

"That depends. Have you done something that I should ban you for?"

Well, that was the question, wasn't it? Had Xander's foot invaded his mouth too many times for even Rory to forgive him? After all, it was hardly their first fight - and they'd only actually been dating for about a week. The months during which he and Rory had communicated by phone while living at the opposite ends of the country could hardly be said to count.

On the other hand, given that Rory had managed to forgive him when he'd suddenly kissed her and then left for Sunnydale without a word, he suspected that she might just be able to forgive him for this. He hoped so, anyway.

In short, Xander didn't exactly know the answer to the question. But only one of them would get him a coffee, so he plumped for "No."

"In that case, you're welcome to sit down rather than hovering just above your seat." Luke said drily. "Coffee, I suppose?"

"Please."

"So, you going to Lorelai's test weekend later?" Luke asked conversationally. While he didn't like that Xander had let Rory think he was dead for two months (even if, after Dawn had yelled at him in the middle of the street, he understood why he had), he was willing to make an effort for the Gilmores sakes. Besides, even though Luke had only met Xander a couple of times when he was staying with Lorelai, he'd seemed like an okay kid. Given that his home town had been destroyed, he figured Xander deserved some slack.

Xander, not knowing what Luke was thinking, was rather surprised at the civility, given their last meeting. "I don't think so. I haven't been invited. You?"

"I'm an investor, so I'd better see what I'm buying."

"That, and you're dating the co-proprietor." Xander said, then inwardly cringed. He barely knew Luke, but he idid/i know that the Gilmores liked him (and that Taylor didn't), which made Luke okay by him. He didn't want to get on his bad side by being too forward.

Fortunately, Luke would never be upset with anyone making any connection between him and Lorelai in that particular way. "There is that." he admitted, smiling faintly. "I'd have thought that Rory would have invited you, though."

Xander shrugged. "I guess it must've slipped her mind." iWhat with me humiliating her grandparents and everything./i

"Uh huh." Luke said noncommittally. He was well acquainted with Rory's memory. While it was by no means perfect, it was more than up to the task of remembering to invite someone to a big event for her mother that very weekend.

"Still, my doors will be an important part of the event, I'm told." Xander finished his coffee, then got up. "I'd better go."

"Bye."

Rory didn't sleep well that night. She generally didn't, after she got into arguments with people that she cared about.

So, after a restless night and being more than usually awake as the sun filtered through her curtains, Rory got dressed and went to Luke's. She'd need to get a head start on her day's intake of coffee if she wanted to make it through the day without taking a nap of some kind.

It was early morning, and only a few people were out and about. While under other circumstances Rory might watch them and speculate about what they were doing so early, she was rather involved in her thoughts as she walked to Luke's.

As a result, it wasn't until she actually collided with someone coming out of Luke's that she realised anyone was there at all.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I-" Rory began only to trail off when she saw who'd she'd just walked into.

"I think that's my line." Xander said, eyes twinkling.

"What?" Rory asked, a little dazed by the sudden meeting. She shouldn't be, she knew - she was fully aware that Xander rarely slept through the night. She'd called him after a demon-related nightmare often enough to know that.

"I'm sorry. About what I said last night."

"What?" Rory asked again.

"Normally I'd make some joke about you running into my rock-hard body giving you a concussion and making you confused, but I don't think that would be appropriate just now."

"You kind of had a point, though."

"Well, I do have a rock-hard body."

"I meant about what you said yesterday."

Xander scratched his chest. "The point about not being anything like Jess still stands. Everything else was pretty much a load of drivel."

"Even the bit about me being an entitled rich girl?"

"iEspecially/i that part. I'm really sorry about that. I-I was angry, and my mouth has a tendency to speak without consulting my brain. I didn't mean it."

"Doesn't mean it's not true though. I mean, my grandparents paid-"

"Shut up, Rory." Xander interrupted. "Sorry, but don't listen to what I said. I'm a guy. We've got idiot quotas to fill, you know that. Besides, you're a clever, hard working girl. You could've coasted through on your family's money. But you didn't. You worked for what you have."

"But-"

"I know what I said made you - that it wasn't - that it made you feel like dirt. Believe me, I'm beyond sorry that I said that. It isn't true. Seriously."

Rory waited a few seconds to see if Xander was finished talking. "May I speak now?" she said acidly.

"Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry."

"Xander, I haven't lived your life, and I'm glad about that-"

"Ouch."

"-but I know I'm not an entitled rich girl. I know that my grandparents paid for Chilton and they're paying for Yale. But the reason for that is because I worked hard to get into those places."

"I know. That's what I said."

"I'm not a piece of porcelain."

"Uh... I never said you were. How did we get on to talking about sweets anyway?"

"What?"

"Isn't porcelain a type of sweet? You know, made from almonds?"

"Do you mean marzipan?" Rory asked, baffled.

"Probably."

"Porcelain's a type of thin china."

"Oh. Right. I still didn't say that you were."

"No, but you seem to think that if you say something to me that isn't all sweetness and light that I'll break apart."

"No, I don't."

"Really? So hiding from me the fact that you were nearly married was for an entirely different reason? And you're profuse apologizing for making me 'feel like dirt' and wanting me to forget that it ever happened?"

"I already admitted that the thing about the marriage was stupid. But I don't think that saying sorry for saying something hurtful is a bad thing."

Rory struggled to put what she was thinking into words. "No, it isn't, but... it's more the iway/i you said sorry."

"Okay." Xander said, not understanding what the problem was. "I guess I can try and apologize differently in the future."

"You don't get it."

"Not even a little bit."

"It's - you wouldn't let me speak. You wouldn't let me say that you had even a small part of a point. It's like you were so afraid that I'd take it the wrong way that you were basically trying to force your apology down my throat."

"Oh. I see. I might get a bit... overprotective sometimes. I mean, not just about the whole thing where you were turning into a vampire. I-I really don't want to ruin this, Rory. This thing we have. Because pretty much every relationship I had ended because I did something stupid, and my foot pretty much lives in my mouth so there's a good chance that I'll say plenty of stupid things. So, um, it's possible that in the future I might just repeatedly say sorry until you forgive me or beat me to death with a shovel. Or possibly burst out laughing. That's an option too."

"Ah. Okay." Rory said lamely. She wasn't really sure what else she could say.

"So, anyway, I'm sorry about what I said yesterday, but fortunately you've realised that I was talking complete rubbish so can we move past that now?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Would you like some marzipan? Is there anywhere around her that sells marzipan?"

Rory smiled. "I think Weston's does, but I'm not really a marzipan fan. Want to come in and get some coffee?"

"I would, but given that we just had something that looks very much like an argument right outside of Luke's, I don't particularly want to go inside and have him leap across the counter and punch me in the face." Xander said ruefully.

"Luke wouldn't do that."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Rory grabbed Xander's wrist and pulled him inside, saying "You'll never know unless you come in." as she did so.

They sat down at the counter. Luke asked "So, what were you kids talking about outside?"

Before Rory had a chance to answer, Xander said "Oh, just a little lively discussion about whether the type of leader in Machiavelli's "The Prince" would actually work. I personally think that, in a state with an all-powerful monarch, fear would be more useful than respect. Rory's less cynical than I am."

Luke's lips quirked. He repeated what he'd said to Xander nearly a year ago. "Maybe people will surprise you."

Xander looked at Rory and grinned. Rory grinned back. "Oh, they do. Frequently."

"So, coffee then?"

"Of course."

When Luke went off to get them some, Rory asked quietly "Machiavelli? Where did that come from?"

"I do listen when you talk about what you learn, you know. Most of the stuff you say goes way over my head, but some of it sticks."

Rory smiled, and they sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds. Then Rory asked "How can you think that fear would be more effective than respect?"

"Oh, come on. Are you telling me that Nazi Germany managed to take over most of Europe because their citizens respected them? No, they were terrified of those fascists."

"Yeah, but..."

After a discussion in which Xander tried to tell Rory about what Sunnydale had been like under the respective rules of Angelus and Spike, and how much more effective the va- gang members had been when they were constantly afraid that a sadistic torturing psychopath might just turn on them. Rory said that, eventually, Angelus would've been overthrown. Xander, who'd actually met him, doubted it.

Before they could actually get involved in a fight (or even a lively discussion) about that, Xander suddenly asked "Can I ask you a question?"

Rory, who'd just been about to make a dazzling point about the French Revolution that she was sure would win her the debate, paused. "Okay. What is it?"

"Why didn't you ask me to go to Lorelai's test weekend thing?"

"Oh. That."

"Yeah."

"Well, um, I just wasn't sure how well you and Lorelai were getting on. Besides, it's her thing, I didn't want to ask you because it should really be her doing it."

"You know I've been making doors for her for most of this week, right? And she did tell me that I could take her home and ravish her." When Luke suddenly scowled at him, Xander said "She was joking! You know how much she likes to make me uncomfortable."

"Still, I thought that if she wanted you there she would've asked you to be there."

"Maybe you were supposed to ask me."

"Maybe. You could come in for the dinner, anyway. I think all of the rooms are full."

"Cool. Oh, wait, will there be one of Sookie's pies?"

"Probably."

"Oh, I am iso/i there."

Later, when Rory and Xander left Luke's to get on with their day and when it stopped being so early that no right-minded teenager would ever even consider getting up, Jess came downstairs. His shift hadn't started yet, so he went to find Dawn.

On the way, Jess had to fight down the urge to smoke a cigarette. During the week that he'd been in his strange quasi-relationship with Dawn, he'd cut down, smoking only a couple a day. He just hadn't felt the need to smoke as many as he once had.

He found her walking down her street. Her face lit up when she saw him, like it always did. Jess wasn't a soppy person, but he would admit (if only to himself) that seeing that was usually the high point of his day.

"Hi!" Dawn said, waving.

"Morning." Jess replied sardonically. "You seem more than usually chirpy this morning."

"I got you a present."

Jess frowned. "It's not my birthday, you know. And I didn't know we were supposed to celebrate our five day anniversary."

"Can't I just get you a surprise present?"

"Oh, sure, you ican/i. It's just that no one ever ihas/i."

Dawn decided not to pursue that. "Here."

It was a simple, leather bound book with an elastic band keeping it closed. Opening it, Jess found that it was blank, although the pages were lined. "Well, thanks, but I'm not really the journal keeping type."

"It's not a journal. It's a Moleskine."

"Uh, no, it isn't. Moleskin is a fabric. This, Dawn, is a book. You can tell because it has pages and everything."

"Moleiskine/i." Dawn repeated, emphasizing the last syllable. "Whole bunches of authors use them to write their ideas in. Hemingway, for one. I know you're a big fan of his."

"Uh huh. And what exactly do you think I should do with this? Wait until Hemingway shows up to claim it?"

"No, you should write in it, silly."

"I thought we'd already established that I'm not the journal keeping type."

Dawn sighed. "Jess, it's for you to write your novel in. Or non-fiction, if you swing that way."

Jess looked at her, surprised. "I'm not planning on writing anything."

"I know. But you're doubtlessly going to. I've never met anyone who's more interested in literature than you. It's only a matter of time before you try your hand at writing."

"So, you've got your own one of these, then?"

Dawn shook her head. "I'm more interested in languages than literature, to be honest."

Jess raised his eyebrows at that. Dawn had kept pace with every reference he'd made. She was as well read as he was. Then he remembered her throwaway comment that she had made in the bookshop, that she'd read Plato in Greek. "What languages do you speak, anyway?"

Dawn shrugged. "Besides English? I can get by in Turkish, Latin and Greek. I know a smattering of Sumerian, too. Oh, and I took French in high school."

"Très bien."

Dawn laughed at that. "Merci, mais je doute que je puisse parler comme un citoyen de souche."

"I have no idea what you just said." Jess admitted.

"Anyway, as much as I like reading, I'm a linguist at heart. If you need a translator, though, I'll be there."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure people everywhere will be so glad to know that there's a Latin translation of my book out there." Jess said sarcastically. "Assuming, of course, that I ever manage to get anything published. Which I doubt."

"You should have faith in yourself." Dawn said, poking him in the shoulder.

Jess thought about the implications of that. Dawn had faith in him. She believed that he could make it as an author.

Well. That was... actually really sweet, given that Dawn had only known him for about a week.

"Thanks." Jess said softly, taking the notebook. He didn't know if he'd ever actually write in it, but he appreciated the gesture. A lot.

Although Rory managed to help show the guests at the Dragonfly to their rooms and answered their questions about their facilities to the best of her abilities (although, once Taylor asked her about the fiftieth question about some tiny detail that Rory neither knew nor, truth be told, cared about, she handed him over to Michel in the hopes that the Frenchman would irritate Taylor so much that he would stop talking), she felt as though she was dead on her feet. She guessed that having a bad night's sleep, then a discussion about Machiavelli and then helping out at her mother's inn really took it out of a girl.

So, once things settled down somewhat and Lorelai decided that the inn could be handled by the actual staff she'd hired, Rory went home and crashed on her bed without even bothering to get undressed. She entered a deep, dreamless sleep within a couple of seconds.

After a couple of hours, Rory's heart stopped beating.

Not that she noticed that, until she woke up later.