She lifted the hankie, scented faintly with perfume, to her nose and looked at Xander. After over 60 years of marriage, he was still the handsomest man she'd ever known, including that prince she'd dallied with sometime in the 14th century...or was that the 13th? Anyway, she didn't see the white hair, the deep creases in his face, the stooped posture. To her eyes, he was still tall and muscular, with thick dark waves and twinkling brown eyes. She smiled and patted his arm.

"I'm sure we aren't too late, dear," Anya said.

He ignored her, not because he didn't care, but most likely because she was standing on his deaf side and he didn't hear her. Anya was used to it and it didn't bother her. She led him to a chair in the waiting room and approached the nurse's station. The young woman behind the desk looked up, smiling.

"Yes, hello. My name is Mrs. Alexander Harris and we received a call about..."

The nurse's smile faded and she nodded briskly. "Of course, Mrs. Harris. I believe our Director of Nursing called you about Miss Summers. I'll let her know you're here."

Anya, slightly alarmed by the expression of pity in the nurse's eyes, nodded and clutched her handbag. She looked over at Xander and saw that he had dozed off again. He was doing that more and more frequently. Sleeping late and going to bed early. Napping for most of the day. As a matter of fact, it seemed he was asleep more than he was awake. With a sigh, Anya turned to find Jennifer Gibson, the Home's Director of Nursing, walking towards her.

"Mrs. Harris, how good to see you again." Anya shook Jennifer's hand and returned her greeting.

"I want to apologize for disturbing you and your husband on such a nice day, but there were explicit instructions in Miss Summers' file on notifying family in the event she regained consciousness."

Anya was still a little shocked from the early morning phone call she'd received from the Home about the medical status of Buffy Summers. After nearly 45 years, she was awake. A lifetime had passed and Anya fretted inwardly at how on earth she and Xander would be able to tell Buffy how things had progressed while she had lay unconscious in a hospital bed.

"How is she?"

Jennifer took her arm and walked with her to the waiting room. "Not well. She's awake and alert, but Dr. Greene is not optimistic. I'll leave that for him to discuss with you."

"Let me get my husband and then we'd like to see her."

Jennifer nodded. "Of course."

Xander was momentatrily disoriented when Anya woke him from his doze. Then, as she explained what the Nursing Director had told her, he showed a glimpse of his old self; eager and demanding. His voice was shaky as he asked about his old friend.

Jennifer led them to a sunny, private room. When Buffy had been injured in that final battle, in 2017, it was assumed she'd die within the day. Yet, one day had crossed into the next, then a week, then a year. Before they knew it, many years had passed. At first, she'd been at Sunnydale Nursing Home, but thanks to Angel, she had been moved to a private facility outside Los Angeles. When Buffy's younger sister Dawn had asked about the cost of such a place, she'd been informed that everything would be taken care of.

And it had. Never had they been troubled with financial concerns for Buffy's long-term care. And, the years passed. Anya and Xander were the last of the old gang. The others were gone, for years now. Dawn, of a stroke at age 50. Tara and Willow in a drunk-driving accident only a couple of years ago. Even Angel was gone, staked by a Slayer.

Anya stepped into Buffy's room and felt tears fill her eyes. Behind her, Xander gasped.

Buffy, hearing them, turned her head slowly, the movement obviously painful for her. She smiled, her lips pale and thin against her even paler face.

"Anya."

Her voice, almost inaudible from decades of unuse, was whispery and thin. A single hand, skeletal and nearly translucent, reached out for them.

A harsh sob from Xander made Anya start. He pushed past her and rushed faster than she'd seen him move in years. He took Buffy's delicate hand between his and wept, his face red from the effort. Anya held back, twisting the strap of her handbag in her hands, aware that this was a moment to be shared between the two old friends.

Buffy was trying to soothe him, but she was so very weak and it was tiring her rapidly. From the corner of her eye, Anya saw Jennifer start forward. She placed a hand on her arm. "Please. Give them a couple of moments. It's been so long."

"She needs her rest. She's still very weak."

"I know. Please."

Jennifer nodded and stepped out of the room.

Anya turned back to look at the couple. Xander had fallen to his knees and Anya thought briefly of how stiff he was going to be later. She'd have to rub his joints with some of that cream the doctor had given Xander at his last checkup.

Gradually, his words reached her and Anya flushed.

"...I tried...but it was too late...Velok had risen and..." Xander was whispering, tears still falling unchecked down his cheeks.

Buffy, her eyes still brilliantly green through her own tears, smiled tremulously. "I never blamed you. It was never your fault."

"I could've stopped him. If I'd gotten there quicker..."

"No...Xander...no. It was too much. Too much for all of us."

Xander lay his wrinkled cheek against Buffy's hand, his eyes shining with the force of his never-waning devotion. "I always loved you, Buffy. From the first moment I laid eyes on you...remember? That first day?"

Buffy nodded, her eyes dimming slightly with the pain of the movement. "How could I forget? You always loved me. My white knight."

"I wanted...after Angel left...but there was..." As if remembering his wife standing behind him, her face red and hands tightly clutching her handbag, he paused. But, age and the need to say what his heart was feeling, despite the consequences, spurred him on. "I wanted to be with you and there never seemed to be the right time. First, it was Angel, then Riley...and there was Anya." At this, he had the grace to blush in embarrassment. Buffy never took her eyes from his face; she was oblivious to Anya listening to her elderly husband declaring his love for another woman.

"Then, there was Michael...I knew he could make you happy...that's why I...didn't pursue you anymore. Why I married Anya." Xander's voice choked on these last words, betraying Anya even as he betrayed himself.

Buffy touched his face tenderly, her gnarled fingers tracing his tears' path. "I think you should know something, Xander. I wish you had. I loved you, even then. Even before Angel. I was scared, being the Slayer...I never wanted you to get hurt. I shouldn't have been so foolish..." She started crying. "I was so foolish. I loved you so, and I threw it all away."

Xander, his face younger and more full of life than Anya had seen it in years, raised up and pressed his lips to Buffy's. "Not foolish. Just human. I'll love you forever, my darling Buffy."

Buffy clung to his fingers, her face wreathed in smiles. "And, you'll be my one true love, for the rest of my life."

Another tender kiss was shared and Anya turned her back and walked out of the room.

 

The End

 

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