A/N: Well I wasn't expecting to write a Buffyverse fic about Xander of all characters. X-X But I got hit with an idea. i have mixed feelings on Mr Harris here and ig this fic is trying to make sense of some of them. This scene takes place in conversations with dead people, well around it anyway, call it a missing scene. I hope you enjoy it!


Xander couldn't forgive vampires.

It was more than just being scared of them for all the obvious reasons - he hated them, deeply hated them with a burning rage.

They were monsters. They had taken everything from him. Angel, Spike, heck, even Harmony… they were parasites. Blood-sucking, murderous parasites.

The rage burned and grew and he was spinning and spiralling and-

He stood up, bracing against the door. Buffy's house, which had been more of a home to him than his parents' place ever had. He could hear his friends talking inside, his friends who he cared for so much, his friends who he didn't want to see him like this.

Especially not Anya.

The air wasn't cold, yet he was freezing, rubbing his arms, feeling the breeze against his cheeks. He turned away, tilting his head, forcing himself to keep moving.

It was the end of the world and yet his own nightmares seemed so much more real, clawing into him. Ever since Spike had come back…

God, it wasn't a big deal. Why was his head throbbing? Why were his eyes burning? Why did he feel so awful?

He had to go. He couldn't take it.

He got into the car and drove out of town, far away. He drove until his eyes blurred. He swallowed. He hated crying, too. He couldn't.

Anytime he'd cried at home his father had spat at him, told him boys don't cry and get over it and don't be such a wuss.

So he didn't cry.

Eventually, he stopped at some run-down motel, getting a key for a teeny room. Inside, there was just enough room for a bed, a bathroom, and one of the smallest kitchens he'd ever seen. He ignored it, flopping onto the bed. In seconds, he was asleep.


It was sunset when he woke up again.

Xander sighed, checking the time. He was supposed to go into work tomorrow… or was it the day after? Yet, he could barely even manage to get the energy to stand up. He picked up the phone. He'd call in sick for the next few days.

There was a welling in his chest, clawing at him from the inside. He ignored it.

He knew his friends would be worried. He'd tell them everything was fine, he was just doing something work-related out of town. He couldn't go home, not yet.

"You'll go back, crawling on your hands and knees. You can't live without Buffy."

That voice. He recognised it in a second. It had been seven years, but he'd never forget it.

"Long time no see, Xander."

Jesse McNally leaned against the wall, smiling like he'd dropped in for a casual visit.

"No," Xander muttered. "You're not real. You're just my mind playing tricks on me, you…"

"You would say that, wouldn't you?" Jesse shrugged. "You never talk about me, Xand. It's like you're trying to forget I ever existed."

"No no, of course not," Xander pleaded, on the floor. "I never forgot about you, I swear- shut up. Just, shut up. Shut up. You're. Not. Real. You're a stupid ghost, and I don't care."

"Then why are you acting like you forgot me?" Jesse asked.

Xander wanted to answer, but his usually sharp tongue wouldn't move. His throat was dry. He could only stand there, breathing, his limbs like jelly.

"It's okay," Jesse stepped forward. "I know just how you can make it up to me."

"No," Xander pleaded.

"It's just a little job," Jesse reiterated.

"Go away," Xander backed up, approaching the door.

"What are you so scared of?" Jesse asked. "I'm your best friend. You really hate me that much?"

"No no no," Xander repeated, but he was losing his cool, his strength. He was shivering. He had to get out.

"You haven't changed a bit," Jesse sighed. "The only thing you know how to do is run away."

Xander opened the door.

"No wonder your dad hates you," Jesse threw up his hands. "Well, I would too if not only ran away from my best friend, but my fiancée, too."

And Xander was gone.


The bar was half full. Xander made his way up to the bartender, ordering a beer. He slumped onto the bench, sipping his drink and trying not to think about anything. Key word being trying.

Sitting there, half drunk, half awake, he suddenly wished he had a normal life with normal friends and a normal, non-demon almost-wife. He wished he had better parents. And he wished that Jesse had never been turned into a vampire, and he wished that he were here right now, because he could really use his support.

(The real Jesse, that is. Not whatever that thing was.)

"Xander?"

Xander sat straight up. He'd never lost the urge to live so fast.

"Oh no," he stood up. "You are the last person I want to see."

Of course, it was Angel of all people. The vampire was dressed in his usual black coat, his dark eyes and oversized forehead furrowed in mild curiosity.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked.

"Could ask you the same thing," Xander sneered.

Angel sighed. "It's… complicated. Just know that it has to do with, well, everything in LA."

"Uh huh," Xander sipped his beer.

"What about you?" Angel asked. (What was with the friendly tone? It made Xander squirm.)

Xander breathed out heavily. He put on a smile, brushing back sweaty hair. His skin had never felt so gross.

"Yeah, it's, uh, complicated for me too," he replied. "I don't wanna talk about it. I don't even wanna think about it. And I especially don't want to hang around you right now."

Angel tilted his head, almost as if he were… concerned?

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

Of all the questions…

Xander could've burst out laughing.

"Oh yeah," he said, almost knocking his beer over. "I'm fantastic, actually. Couldn't be better! Literally having the best day of my life!"

He slumped over, sipping more beer. His vision blurred for a few moments. Xander snorted. The irony was actually kind of funny. Seriously, Angel of all the people in the world. Maybe it was the alcohol talking.

Then the damned vampire actually had the nerve to sit next to him.

"Okay, seriously, why are you here?" Xander asked. "Gonna take care of me while Buffy isn't around?"

Angel sighed. He ordered a drink of his own.

"No," he said. "It's just timing."

"Uh huh," Xander grunted.

Angel thanked the bartender as he received his drink.

"I can't, you know," he said. "Even if I wanted to."

"Eh?" Xander asked.

"Kill you," Angel replied.

"You would have at one stage," Xander sneered. "What if that happens again? You hate my guts, and I hate yours right back."

Angel didn't respond to that, focusing on his drink. He then turned to Xander, his gaze harsher.

"You still don't trust me, after all this time?" he asked.

"Why would I?" Xander snapped. "Look, Soul Boy, you may have won over everyone else with your 'ooh, look how I tortured I am' act, but I'm not buying it. You're a monster, and you always will be. So yeah, I think it's pretty obvious why I don't trust a thing like you."

Angel pinched his brow. "And to think you would've changed after all these years. You're still just a scared little boy."

"You're a whipping boy," Snyder appeared, sitting on Xander's other side. "Raised by mongrels and set on a sacrificial stone."

"Oh, yeah?" Xander stood up.

He realised he didn't have any arguments. His usual sneer was slipping through his fingers, like the dust from a vampire. Damn beer.

"You don't know," Xander said, "and even if you did, you wouldn't care. Why'd you even work at a school if you hated kids so much?!"

These words were bitter, like ice, like poison.

"… what are you talking about?" Angel asked.

"No, really, it's my fault," the bartender - who turned into Jesse - told him. "You're still trying to run away. Alcohol won't last forever, you know."

Xander turned away, hugging himself. He was as pale and as cold as snow, feeling terrible shivers continue to race through him.

"Doesn't matter," he got out, heading towards the exit.

"You knew what I was," Jesse said, "and you thought I had a chance. That's why you couldn't do it, you pussy."

Xander covered his ears. He began walking towards his car.

"Xander…" Angel was following him, of course he was.

"What do you want?" Xander snapped.

His voice cracked.

"Look, if there's something, well, supernatural bothering you," Angel told him, "that's what I'm here for."

"Oh, there's something supernatural bothering me right now, actually," Xander snapped.

Angel threw up his hands. "Fine. Whatever. I give up. I have better things to do than talk to man-children, anyway."

"You'll die alone," Jesse told Xander. "Even I didn't have to go through that. But hey, I'm not the guy who's scared of his own friends."

"Just SHUT UP!" Xander yelled. "YOU'RE DEAD! I KILLED YOU! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

And he started coughing and Jesse was laughing and he was on the floor and he was dying and he was dying and he-

Angel helped him up, hand on arm, leaning him against a car. Xander spluttered, dribble spilling from his mouth.

"I…" he coughed.

"Take it easy," Angel told him. "An ambulance is on the way."

"I'm not sick," Xander told him.

"You don't exactly look like the prime of life, either," Angel said, raising a brow. "You look more vampiric than I do."

"Ugh," Xander groaned. "Sunnydale drove me insane in the end. I should've known."

"Xander…" Angel started.

"Fine, I'm being haunted, okay?" Xander admitted, "I don't know. Usual demon-evil-supernatural business. Wigging out and all. You know what, I hardly even notice it. A little ghost doesn't scare the Xan-Man."

"Uh huh," Angel deadpanned, eyeing Xander's clammy skin.

"Why are you so interested?" Xander asked. "Don't tell me you actually want to be friends or something lame like that."

"You are Buffy's friend," Angel told him. "Even she can't be around all the time to look out for her friends."

"Especially when they leave town," Jesse said.

"Right," Xander turned away. "I guess people only care about me if it's something to do with Buffy."

"Do you want help or not?" Angel sighed. "Of course no one will want to be around you if you keep acting like a brat."

"What a shame," Jesse said. "Don't you wish I was here? Tell me, who's the one that killed me? Or, at least wanted to kill me."

"You were dead anyway!" Xander snapped. "It doesn't even matter! I don't regret it!"

"The ghost?" Angel asked, looking around.

And Xander felt his voice slip away. His head slumped back.

"… I do, I think," he said, quietly. "Regret it."

Angel put a hand on Xander's shoulder. Not enough to hurt him, but strong enough to keep him from falling over.

Xander looked straight ahead, right into Jesse's eyes. For a moment, it was almost like the real Jesse truly was there, waiting for him. Just as he always had.

"My best friend was turned into a vampire," Xander got out, "and I killed him."

His eyes were wet.

"I killed my best friend," he said, quieter than before.

"He was a vampire," Angel said, "you panicked, you didn't have a cho-"

"No," Xander replied. "I didn't mean to kill him."

His chest had never felt so heavy, so swollen.

"I mean," he got out, "I mean… I knew what he was, and… and… I didn't want to. I didn't do it until a girl knocked him onto my stake."

He remembered it, exactly. He'd wanted to run away. Leave town and never think about it again. But he couldn't leave Willow behind. She'd been so torn up about Jesse, crying and delivering flowers to his gravestone.

"And now, he's here," Xander said. "He's my ghost."

Xander had to be the strong one. He had to be there for her, since they only had each other. He kept on his smile, a hand on her shoulder, telling her it was all good and no worries. Because he was the class clown, the comedian. He never cried. He wasn't weak.

Every vampire he saw had a bit of Jesse in them. A little reminder that he was gone. That had been the cruelest point of all: Buffy got to keep her vampire friends around but Xander didn't. He wished he could say he had tons of other friends but in reality Jesse and Willow were all and he'd lost one third of his trio, his best friend, who he'd known almost as long as Willow, a man with a future ahead of him, a good man, a dead man, a monster, a kind man, a man that understood Xander, a man that Xander killed.

He choked up. He tried to shake it off. No way was he going to cry in front of Angel of all people. It wasn't fair. Angel had a bit of Jesse too.

"It's hard," Angel sighed, "when it happens to someone you love. It's evil. But be glad it happened. It was for the best."

"Was it?" Xander asked. "Maybe I wouldn't have had to kill him if you monsters didn't exist in the first place!"

"You're just mad that Buffy likes him more," Jesse taunted, "but you always got looked over, didn't you?"

Xander's eyes burned and he felt a small sob escape which of course Angel could hear because he was a goddamn vampire-

"You're right," Angel told him, "but I'm trying to make up for it. I can't bring your friend back… but I can try and save others from the same fate."

"You can never see me again," Jesse said.

"And that's what you do as well," Angel continued, "you help others with your scoobies because you want to save more innocent people. So we can have less that end up like your friend. He's gone, but his legacy lives on with you."

Xander actually found himself laughing.

"What is this, a rom-com?" he asked. "Interview with a Vampire but with a half-drunk carpenter?"

"Of all the things I thought I'd find out here," Angel sighed, shaking his head.

"Just leave me alone, Soul Boy," Xander begged. "I get it, ok? I'm pathetic. No more sappy speeches."

"Finally, you actually say something mature," Angel muttered.

Xander turned away. "… what you said. Before. I guess… it was, well. Helpful. A little bit, anyway."

And that was the closest Angel would ever get to a thanks. He rolled his eyes.

"I used to be jealous of you," he admitted.

"Huh?" Xander asked.

"You got to be out in the sun," Angel said, "you got to be with Buffy during the school day. You were practically attached at the hip. You're a human being. You're alive."

And he was jovial yet the anguish was not that well hidden. Xander looked up, eyes red and puffy.

"She still chose you," Xander replied. "I'm over it now. I still love her and all - err, not like that anymore - but it was never going to happen between us."

"You and me both," Angel said. "I guess we're not so different as we like to pretend."

He sat next to Xander once again.

"I'm not gonna sit here and preach and tell you to open up and share your tears because I wouldn't want to either," Angel told him, "but I think you've got a good idea about why the ghost is following you."

"I couldn't even bring myself to visit his grave," Xander said, and he was looking right Jesse, finally facing it head on. "How can I…"

"I know she can take care of herself, but…" Angel looked away. "I felt safe leaving Buffy. You know why?"

Xander stared at him.

"Because she cares about you and Willow and all the rest," Angel replied. "As long as she has you, she'll be okay. If there's anything I've learned from my group in LA… your friends have got your back."

"I am not getting a pep talk from Angel," Xander sniffled. "No way."

But he was smiling, genuinely, truly, and Angel was smiling back.

The flash of lights and sirens caught their attention. Angel tapped his shoulder.

"That gravestone," Angel said, "next time you're in Sunnydale?"

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "He deserves it, after all this time."

And Angel was gone. Xander closed his eyes, for the first time not pissed off that he'd encountered that darn vampire.


A/N: So what bothers me is that Xander is meant to be 'the heart' of the group yet he is not that emotionally intelligent. So much untapped potential? That being said I wanted to keep this canonically accurate as possible. Man's got issues. :( Things he's got to work out.

Why is Angel in this fic? Idk, I think it's good to have Xan talk to folks he doesn't usually talk to, especially since these fellas have had their issues before. Let them be friends bro.

Thanks for reading!