Summary: Xander reflects on Buffy's absences.
Spoilers: Through Afterlife.
Disclaimer: Joss made the characters. I'd claim them if I could.
Rating: PG
Thanks to Tracy, the most wonderful beta reader out there. She deserves worship, and wonderful, Vegas-y times. :)

Two Summers
By Amy
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I thought it would be different.

That she'd come back and be happy to see us, would have missed us. And maybe
there would be an awkward day or two while we all readjusted to having her
around again, but that things would soon fall into place and it would be
Buffy and her Scoobies again. Like last time.

I guess that was too much to hope for.

She's been gone from us for two summers now. Two of the worst summers of my
life; that awful feeling was, both times, distinguished by her absence. Not
like when she gone to see her father. Each of these times felt... Permanent.


The first time was when after she had to kill Angel. I didn't know all of
the facts at the time, and I was glad that he was gone, glad that she'd
killed him. At the same time, I was angry at her. So mad that she left,
just took off, and let us think for months that she could be hurt or...
Something. It was hard to think about.

I guess I'm the least powerful person in the group. Most of the time I feel
like I'm around to supply the jokes and make sure that things don't get too
dark, and I don't mind that. But that summer, I couldn't do it. My jokes
fell flat, my laughter sounded fake even to my own ears. Always wondering
where she was and what she was doing. I tried to be strong. Willow needed
me, more than she had in a long time, maybe ever, and I wanted to live up to
that. To be worthy of that.

It was hard.

I saw the fear in Willow. I saw it so easily because I was afraid too. I
couldn't voice my own fears. All that time I was thinking I was being brave,
but now I'm not so sure. Now I think that I might have fallen apart if I
actually said any of the things I was so worried about.

Every day without Buffy was scary. Giles went off every week or so, looking
for her, and Willow was practicing her witchcraft more and more which was
something I didn't-- and still don't-- really understand, so I was no use
there. Sometimes I went over to Buffy's house and talked to Joyce.

The first few weeks that Buffy was gone, whenever Joyce would answer the
door, her eyes would be red and her nose stuffy and I would know that she'd
been crying. She never actually cried in front of me, but I felt it there.
In the room, in her face, in my own heart. I tried to be strong for her too.

And then Buffy came back. Out of nowhere, in the middle of an alley, there
she was. For an instant, I was more glad than I ever thought I could be. I
saw her face and would have hugged her if that vampire hadn't interrupted us.
But he did. And by the time she was finished slaying him, the anger was
back.

It took me a little while to forgive her for leaving. I was selfish, I know.
I didn't understand then, what had happened or how hard it must have been.
All I knew was that she was gone when we needed her so badly. Not just for
the slaying stuff, but for everything else. The friend stuff.

Somehow, though, things got back to normal. Buffy and her Scoobies.

It's not the same now.

Now, I know that dying has to be a lot more traumatic than running away from
home. But I still... I don't know. I hoped for more from her.

This summer was stranger than the first time she was gone. Stranger, because
it felt like before and I knew it wasn't. Stranger, because I couldn't
imagine her coming back. Stranger, because I'd never felt that kind of
grief. Not even when Jesse died.

Willow had Tara this summer. They were taking care of Dawn. Giles was
training the BuffyBot and Willow was programming her. Everyone was
constantly planning. A plan to move. A plan to get promoted. A plan to
raise the dead, whatever. Some kind of plan.

I wasn't a part of it.

I couldn't explain to Anya why I didn't want to tell anyone about our
engagement. After a while, I couldn't even explain it to myself. I mean, at
first it was that Buffy had just died. It was too hard to be happy. And
then... I couldn't tell you. She was pushing and pushing and as much as I
love that strange woman-- and I do-- the more she pushed to tell everyone,
the less I wanted to.

She told me more than once that she missed Buffy too. And each time she said
that I wanted to scream at her, yell that she didn't know what I was feeling,
that she couldn't possibly understand how horrible it was just trying to live
life when Buffy was dead. But that wasn't fair; I knew it. And Anya had
been really supportive. She was... Wonderful. But even the wonderfulness of
her was hard to appreciate. She hadn't loved Buffy the way that I had. And
it was hard, for some reason, to go to my friends.

They were all sort of busy.

So I went to Spike.

We didn't talk much. Mostly we would nod and watch TV in his crypt. He got
a new couch that was pretty comfortable. He didn't like me and I didn't like
him, but it felt better. A little. Just being around someone who loved her,
someone who also didn't have anyone else to turn to.

I don't know when it changed from an obsession into actual love for him, but
it did. Sometime. He really loved her. He wasn't Joyce, but I was glad to
be around him.

Glad for... Anything I could get.

And then Buffy came back. We raised her. Resurrected her, and she was
alive. We left her in her coffin, too, which is a guilt trip that's too hard
for me to deal with right now. Or, possibly ever again.

I'd missed her.

I still do.

I thought... I thought bringing her back to us would make everything better.
Would make all of the pain and sleepless nights and bad dreams and nausea and
headaches and heartaches just disappear, but they're still around. They're
different now, but here.

I just don't feel like Buffy is.

I see something in her eyes that scares me. A distance, a vulnerability that
she never had before. You would think that she'd be glad to be out of Hell.
But there's such a sadness in her face all the time now, like she's carrying
around this pain and won't let anyone see it. I want to be there for her,
but she won't let anyone in.

She flinches when anyone touches her now. I'm pretty sure she thinks no one
has noticed, but I have. Maybe it hurt so bad where she was that she can't
believe that touches won't hurt her here. Or maybe it didn't hurt her at...
No. No, that's not even a possibility. I can't even think about that.

I want my friend back. I saw her, for an instant this morning when she came
into the magic shop.

I was in her training room in the back, rehanging the punching bag. She came
in and sat down on the floor and leaned back against the wall and just looked
at me for a long time. When I was done, I went and sat beside her.

"Buffy?"

She looked up with that distant gaze. "It's just hard, Xander. But you
don't have to worry about me."

"I know," I shrugged. "If I *had* to worry about you, I don't think I'd love
you half as much as I do. You'd just be a huge pain in the ass that I had to
worry about all day. My worry comes free."

She tilted her head down then, so her chin was almost touching her chest, and
she looked so small in that moment. Even otherworldly, blending in with the
shadows like she was.

"I never expected this, you know," she whispered. "It's harder than I
remember it being, especially now that I know what I..."

"Know about death?" I suggested, not knowing where she was taking the
conversation. But, God, I wanted to understand.

"Yes."

"We're glad you're back, Buffy."

"I'm... I..." She bit her lip but then after a second her eyes cleared and
she was Buffy again. Really Buffy. "I love you guys. I really do, you know?"

I smiled, feeling like my heart was going to collapse in on itself with
happiness. "We love you too."

And then the warmth faded from her voice and gaze and she was different
again, her smile seemed stretched into place, and she was carrying something
inside I couldn't quite figure out. She got up and walked out, leaving me
alone there, wishing that I could reach her where it hurt and take away any
of that pain.

It doesn't seem to be getting any better. I could pretend it was, but I'd
just be fooling myself. And I... I don't know what to do.

Two of the summers I've known her, Buffy's been gone. After the first time
she came back, things got better.

But this time... This time I'm not sure they ever will.


The End

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