A/N: This story picks
up right after Entropy,
so obviously the Spike/Buffy part of Seeing Red did not take place for
the purposes of this story...but otherwise, just assume that everything
else from the end of Season Six happened just as in canon, with the
exception of Spike going to get his soul...Hopefully I'll fill in some
gaps and feel free to ask about it if something doesn't make
sense...and
if it's not a part of the mystery I'll do my best to *make* it make
sense! J
57. Goodbye
The combined funeral of Anthony and Jessica Harris
was a sparsely attended affair.
The overwhelmingly long guest list that had marked the not-wedding of
Xander and Anya was nothing but a distant memory, as the very small
group gathered in the cemetery, in the softly falling rain, to pay
their respects to the fallen couple. The Harris clan apparently was far
more willing to take part in a celebration, than in a time of loss and
suffering.
If there was such a thing as "fair weather family", it seemed that the
Harrises' relations fit the bill.
Reputation and simple poor manners had left Xander's parents with few
friends in Sunnydale; so there were fewer than twenty people in
attendance of the funeral. The Scoobie gang was represented only by
Willow, Giles and Anya. Willow had been a friend of the family's since
early childhood, and Anya felt that it was the appropriate thing for
her to attend.
After the way the Harrises had treated her, Giles felt that she really
had no obligation to go, but Anya had told him that she would have felt
wrong not to go, no matter what Xander had done, after all that had
passed between them before.
Giles had looked at her with affection in his eyes as he had asked her
softly, teasingly, "Are you quite certain that you're no longer human?
Because it seems you do a better job at humanity than some humans I
know."
Anya had given him a self-conscious smile, half-pleased, half-troubled,
tucking her head shyly as she had shrugged and replied in a soft,
uncertain voice, "I don't know – sometimes I forget that I'm not – not
everything you deserve for me to be..."
Calmly, yet with a fire of anger in his eyes, the Watcher had replied
in a soft, careful voice, "If by that ludicrous phrase – 'not
everything I deserve you to be' – you mean 'human'...you have absolutely
*nothing* to worry about, my dear..."
"I know," Anya replied a bit fretfully, looking away from him. "It's
just – I get so confused sometimes...I know that being human is better –
you know, for humans – and sometimes I still *feel* like I did when I
was human...but I know that you really deserve better..."
"No, Anyanka," Giles interrupted, his expression softer as he raised a
hand to gently cup her cheek, raising her lovely but uncertain eyes to
his again. "You are better than I deserve." He had taken to calling her
"Anyanka", telling her that he thought it much more fitting to her than
the shorter – and in his opinion sillier – "Anya".
Anya loved hearing that name on his lips – yet another evidence she
needed that he accepted her as she was.
She gazed up at him with a yearning, almost awed expression in her eyes
that never failed to go straight to the Watcher's heart – and
occasionally further. She looked away almost shyly, shaking her head in
the beginnings of denial, but he stopped it before it could start.
"Whatever good is in you," he continued earnestly, "is not some remnant
of your brief time of humanity. It is because of *you*...Anyanka...that you
feel the things you feel...say the things you say...are the wonderful
person that you are...and that person is far more than I deserve."
Those words left Anya speechless with wonder at his confession – and
his next confession left her breathless as well.
"I suspect – I may be falling completely, irrevocably, in love with
you, Anyanka."
She had stared at him for a long moment, their lips bare inches apart
by this point, before wildly glancing behind her at the clock, and
turning back to him with a hasty shrug.
"The funeral's in an hour," she had pointed out breathlessly – and more
than a little hopefully.
His eyes had widened, glancing past her to the clock, before nodding
quickly and agreeing, "There's time."
They had been a bit flushed and thrown together – but an hour later,
the Watcher and the vengeance demon had been at the funeral with the
handful of other mourners.
As for Xander himself, he was still in the hospital, stable, but in a
coma – and the doctors did not hold out much hope of his ever waking up.
The bullet had destroyed a good portion of his brain, including the
parts responsible for movement and speech. A machine was keeping his
heart pumping, his lungs breathing, as his brain was no longer capable
of it.
The doctors said that there was little chance that he could hear, or
speak, or was aware of anything around him, but that there was a good
chance that he was still capable of conscious thought. The regions of
his mind responsible for thought and memory were still intact, though
his brain injury would never allow him the ability to actually
communicate with the world around him – never again.
Xander was trapped in a world where he could not move, could not speak,
could not communicate or act on his environment in any way – with only
the murmurs and memories of his own mind for company...for the rest of
his life.
Buffy thought it ironically fitting to his crimes.
She had been at the hospital almost every day since that horrible day
when Xander had killed his parents, and tried to kill himself. She had
felt the need to check in with his doctors each day, to find out how he
was doing, and if there was any change – but when they had offered to
let her actually visit her friend, she had always refused.
Somehow, she could not bring herself to face Xander, even when she knew
he would have no idea that she was even there.
She had absolutely no idea what she would say to him.
Dawn had refused to go to the hospital even once – which was exactly
what Buffy had expected – but Willow had been there every single day,
sitting by his side, talking to him, hoping that something she would
say might trigger a response in her friend, might somehow bring him
back to consciousness – so that he might eventually be brought back to
*her*. She was firmly convinced that there was hope – he *could* come
back.
After all – she had come back.
But Buffy was convinced that this was different – worse – than what had
happened with Willow.
Willow had killed the boy who had killed Tara, and the man who had fed
her addiction and violated her body and soul.
Xander had murdered his own family in cold blood – and tortured a
helpless creature who had been utterly defenseless against him.
Buffy was convinced that the two situations were nothing alike.
Her life fell into a routine over the next few weeks.
She was getting mostly day shifts at the Doublemeat Palace, and she
would go to work in the morning, then stop by the hospital in the
afternoon to check on Xander's status – without actually checking in on
*him*. Most days when she got home, Dawn would be there already,
usually on the phone long distance to L.A.
Usually, she would abruptly hang up the phone when Buffy came through
the door – but Buffy knew who she was talking to.
She was talking to the person that Buffy herself desperately longed to
talk to.
When she walked through the door one afternoon, exactly three weeks
after Spike had left, she finally managed to summon the courage that
had evaded her every other day, and called out to her sister hurriedly,
"*Wait*! Dawnie, don't hang up!"
Dawn's hand froze with the receiver still pressed to her ear, as she
looked up at her sister from where she sat on the sofa, her eyebrows
raised in a surprised question.
Dawn's anger with her sister had evaporated quickly after the incident,
as she had come to understand how torn Buffy must have been, between
the boy who had been like her brother for six years, and the vampire
that had recently come to mean so much more. She still felt that her
sister had made a huge mistake in her handling of the situation – but
she could not help but feel compassion for the obvious pain Buffy was
in, in Spike's absence.
And Spike himself actually had quite a bit to do with her change in
attitude.
It was obvious from their first long distance phone conversation, that
Spike missed Buffy, too – if the number of times he managed to mention
her in each and every conversation was any indication.
By the time that Buffy managed to work up the nerve to actually ask to
speak with him – Dawn had come to hope that she would.
But in the moment after – that nerve fled Buffy again.
"Um – can you find out if Angel's around?" she asked in a breathless
rush, her eyes wide and panicked as she uttered the quickest out she
could manage.
Dawn rolled her eyes in irritation, sighing dramatically as she
muttered into the phone, "Don't flip out, okay? Is, um – Angel there?"
There was a moment of heavy silence, before Buffy heard the sound of
loud, British cursing on the other end of the phone, as Dawn winced and
held the phone a couple of inches away from her ear.
"I know," she said in an appeasing tone of voice. "I know...actually, I
think 'moron' is a better word...okay...okay...well, she's still standing
here waiting to talk to him, so..." She nodded, saying, "Okay, I'll talk
to you later. Bye," and holding out the phone expectantly to her sister.
Buffy's face flushed with embarrassment as she crossed the room and
took the phone from her sister's hand.
"Dummy," Dawn commented quietly as she passed her and made her way up
the stairs.
Buffy did not even attempt to defend herself.
"Buffy?"
"Yeah – Angel?"
"Yeah – um – why is Spike pacing outside my office fuming? What did you
say to him?" Angel asked a bit nervously.
"N-nothing," Buffy admitted quietly. "I didn't talk to him. I just –
asked to talk to you."
Angel was silent for a long moment, before he replied in a strange
tone, somewhere between pleased satisfaction and exasperated annoyance,
"Well that explains it then. Buffy..." His voice softened, as if in an
attempt to not be heard by his childe outside his door, "...would it kill
you to talk to him?"
Buffy blinked in surprise, her eyes widening in confusion. "But – does
he *want* to talk to me? I mean – I thought – he's gotta be – isn't he
still mad at me for what happened?"
Angel sighed. "No, Buffy," he told her. "He's not. He just – needed
some time away."
Buffy swallowed back the sob of relief that rose in her throat, trying
to control the shaking of her voice as she asked in a hesitant whisper,
"Then – then why didn't he even – say goodbye?"
"Because if he'd tried to say goodbye, you never would have let him
leave."
Once again, Buffy had no argument for the truth.
"I'm not saying it's easy for him to understand, Buffy. I mean – for
you it's this huge gray area, and it's gotta be painful and
confusing...but for the one who actually got shot, kidnapped, and
tortured for months – the whole thing's pretty black and white," Angel
pointed out matter-of-factly. "It was tough for him to see you that
night – taking up for Xander's life."
"I know," Buffy admitted softly, tears streaking her face as she tried
to make him understand. "It's just – Angel, it was *Xander*. I know you
two never got along – but he saved my *life* -- he saved the *world*!
He meant so much to me – and I'm sorry, but I just couldn't bring
myself to take part in – in his death. Can't you understand that?"
"Yes, Buffy, *I* understand it," Angel replied with patience and
compassion in his voice. "It's a little harder for Spike – but I think
he's starting to understand it, too, with a little distance to put
things in perspective. But – there's something *you* need to
understand, Buffy."
The Slayer was uncharacteristically silent, subdued, waiting for him to
go on.
"It's *not* Xander – not anymore," he reminded her gently. "He's not
the boy you knew – and apparently he hasn't been for quite a while.
Spike remembers everything now -- *everything* -- and from what I can
figure, when Xander talked Willow down from ending the world...he already
had Spike chained up and starving in the Initiative caves."
It was at that point that Buffy broke down in tears.
"He's not the same person you knew, Buffy. And – if you're ever going
to move on...you're going to have to face that."
******************************
"Hey. I bet you're – probably wondering why I haven't been by until
now."
Of course, there was no response from the pale, silent figure in the
hospital bed.
"Well," Buffy corrected quietly, frowning as she slowly sat down in the
chair beside the bed, "actually, I – guess you're not. The doctors say
you – can't really hear me." Her voice was halting as she sought the
words she needed to express. "I guess there's no point in being here,
really – but – I just have to do this."
She was quiet for a moment, swallowing back the tears that rose in her
throat – but they made their way down her face in spite of her best
attempts.
"I've been spending half my time these past few weeks, trying not to
hate you," she told her former best friend, who lay utterly
unresponsive in front of her. If she hadn't known better, she would
have thought that he was simply asleep. "And – I've spent the other
half -- *trying* to hate you," she whispered, her voice aching with the
pain of her words.
"I – I think that I should – after all you've done – and in a way, I
don't know if I'll ever forgive you – but – in another way – I think
that I already have. You – you've been there for me so many times –
you've saved me in so many different ways – and I never could have
imagined not having you in my life...but – I'm going to have to, now."
"I don't even know you anymore, Xander," Buffy whispered, shaking her
head sadly as her tear-filled eyes studied his still, slack face,
memorizing it for what would likely be the last time. "And – I think I
haven't for a long time. You're not the person you were when we
met...that person is gone. The person that did what you did – to Spike –
to your parents – to Willow, and Dawnie, and *me* -- I don't want
anything to do with that person. And if that's all that's left of you,
Xander – I'm ready to move on, and let go. There's – only one thing
left for me to do."
Buffy found that as she went along, the words came easier, though her
tears did not stop, as she whispered softly, with the remnants of
affection she still felt for the friend she had once known.
"It's time for me to say goodbye."
She rose from her chair, moving to the side of the bed, gazing down
with sad eyes.
"I love Spike. I know that now – and as much as you've meant to me –
there's no part of me that can ever accept what you did to him. I – I
had a hard time – choosing between you, as my friend – and him. But –
now that I know what the choice really is – between Spike – and the
person that you've become..." She shook her head with a sad smile,
"...somehow the choice seems so much easier."
"I'm going to miss who you were to me, Xander," Buffy whispered, as she
leaned over the bed, pressing a soft, almost reverent kiss to his cool,
dry brow. She stood up straight, the single word a mere breath on her
lips.
"Goodbye."
And with nothing left to say, the Slayer turned and walked out of the
room – without a backward glance.