rating: pg
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS.
note: once again, AU after Becoming.
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Xander made his way into the hospital, having long since memorized the way to his destination. Room 271, bed A was the current home of his best friend, Willow. WIllow, the person who had stood by him through everything, through junior high, and Jesse dying, the discovery that there were vampires and monsters. Willow, the smartest and kindest person that he'd ever met, was in the hospital. He visited her at least once a week, sometimes more, telling her about what had been happening. About how Buffy had vanished after going to confront Angelus, how Giles had been recalled to England to talk to the Watchers council.
He just wished that Willow would wake up. It hurt to see her laying there, her skin so pale and almost waxy looking from not being in the sunlight. She was so still, never moving. It was a harsh contrast to the smiling Willow in his memories, always moving, walking, talking, little fidgety movements of her fingers, playing with her hair... Her eyes were closed, masking the bright sparkle of questions in her eyes.
Now, it was almost Christmas, and she was still in her coma. She had been trying to restore Angel's soul. He had no idea if the coma was from the spell, or the vampires that had attacked the library, kidnapping Giles, killing Kendra, and toppling a bookcase over onto Willow, who had been in the middle of her spell. They had taken her to the hospital, and that horrible troll of a principal had seen Kendra's body and accused Buffy of murder. He'd gone to the hospital, terrified at Willow's injury, afraid that he would loose his closest friend.
How could he face Christmas without her? Things wouldn't be the same without her there. Who would he do the Snoopy dance for? Who would sit there, sipping hot cider and over analyze the holiday songs? It wouldn't be the same without Willow wondering just how eight reindeer, a sleigh loaded with toys, and a large fat man in a red velvet suit didn't go crashing through the rooftops when they tried to land. Who would ask what games the reindeer played?
"Willow... I miss you more than words can say. I just wish... I wish you were here for Christmas. Really here, not just laying in a bed. This isn't you, you're all questions and life, and too many thoughts. How do we go on without you?" His voice was filled with pain and sorrow.
Xander wiped a tear from his cheek. "I'd give anything to have you back with us. It's just... there's been so many changes. Buffy's gone, and Giles got recalled. Bright side is that there's been no sign of Angelus or Spike and Dru, and of course,the world didn't get sucked into hell... at least, Cordy said it didn't. I'm not so sure. Life without you... it's not so good. Cordy and I have gotten a lot closer... I know I've been telling you about it, but I don't know if any of it got through. The doctor keeps saying that you can't hear me, that you don't know if anyone's here or not, can't hear people talking to you. But I have to keep visiting, keep talking to you. It makes a difference."
He shook his head, trying to understand some of the recent events. "I hope that you'd be okay with me and Cordelia. I know we were never friends with her before, but... I guess you can't help who you fall for. I think, I mean, I hope that this could be real. On the topic of love, I... oh, I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but Oz left. His band got an offer in LA, and they left. I don't know how he could go away when you need him more now than ever."
He kept talking for hours, telling Willow everything that had been going on over the past week. He talked about the sports teams that he followed, part of him hoping that Willow would open her eyes, would ask him about one of her odd science fiction shows that she loved so much. He'd been watching them, just for her. He told her about that week's X-Files, how Scully had tried to explain away a precognitive's abilities. He told her about the recent movie advertisements, and about a couple new books that he'd seen the last time Cordelia had taken him along for a shopping trip, how they'd made him think of her.
Finally, his voice hoarse and cracking from all the words that he'd poured forth, in an effort to cling to his friend, to call her back from wherever she had gone, he stopped. He placed a Christmas card on the table beside her, one that he'd carefully chosen for her, almost hearing her annual protest 'But Xander, I'm Jewish. We don't celebrate Christmas, remember?' as he put it down. He and Cordelia had both signed it, and Cordy had found a small pot of poinsettias for Willow, wrapped in sparkling gold foil, tied with a dark green bow.
"Please... if there's a God. Let Willow come back to us." Tears glittering in his lashes, he stood up, leaving the hospital. He'd stayed very late today, and it was well after dark now. Maybe he could go out and kill a few vampires to try to ease the pain of Willow being there, and not there. He didn't notice the tall figure wrapped in a dark coat that stood in the hall.
Xander hadn't noticed when it got dark, hadn't noticed the door open silently. He hadn't seen the pale skinned figure peek inside, then slip back away, to wait down the hall, inhumanly sensitive ears listening to every word. After Xander had gone away, the person drew closer, slipping into the room. In one hand, he clutched a wreath made of freshly cut pine branches, twisted together earlier that night.
He came closer, looking at the young woman on the bed. She was asleep, always asleep. He felt drawn to her, uncertain why, but unable to deny the pull that she had for him. The faintest spark of memory tried to whisper a name, tried to tell him that this woman was someone that he had known long ago, Before the terrible place. All he knew was that she was beautiful, and that he wanted her to be safe. After a moments pause while he tried to remember a blessing to offer her, he hung the pine wreath on the door, and slipped back out of the room. It was probably best that she didn't know he visited her, didn't know that he looked upon her sleeping face. She looked so peaceful, so sweet.
He was not peaceful, nor could he be kind. Hadn't he spent such a long and horrible time in the pits of Hell? Even they had not wanted him, and eventually, he had ben returned. He had felt her pull then, a sweet beckoning that soothed his anguished memories. He still couldn't remember who he had once been, or how he had known her, but he knew that she was a good person, that she needed to be protected.
The nameless man only wished that she would wake up.
end.