The Chosen One Trilogy

By Spurglie

Anya: Do you think she walked around on clouds, wearing like... Birkenstocks and played a harp? 'Cause those are just not flattering. You know, the clonky sandals, not a harp. I mean, who doesn't look good with a harp?
~ Tabula Rasa

Xander’s staring at me again.

He thinks I haven’t noticed, but I do. I always do. They don’t know just how much I notice, how much I tone down my strengths in front of them. Oh, they know about the strength and the stamina and the occasional prophetic dream, but my spider-sense tingles around more than just vampires. When someone’s watching me, I can *feel* it. It’s like this tiny little scritch on the back of my neck. I don’t have the hearing of a vampire, but my eyesight is way better than perfect. Those reading glasses I have? Window glass. I got ‘em in a sale to wear so I could pretend I had to squint to see. Silly little game, I know. Most kids don’t want glasses. Mine made me feel more human. More normal.

Also, the cramps thing that happens when there’s a vampire nearby? *Nobody* needs to know about that one. I mean, come on, cramps? I can think of better early warning systems.

So Xander’s sitting there, pretending to read a comic inside the book he’s pretending to research so he can watch me over the top of the pages he’s forgotten to pretend to turn.

It’s comforting, I guess. Once upon a time I would have been squicked. Once upon a time I *was* squicked, but that was a hundred years ago. I’m very different now. Xander’s different now. He’s freaked out. He thought I’d died again. That freaked him out.

Our kiss freaked him out.

But the unwritten, unspoken rule is that we don’t talk about it. The Kiss. It’s probably better that way. Definitely better. Neither of us really want... that, and even if we did, do you really need to hear the long list of spectacularly bad relationships both of us have had in order to prove my glaringly obvious point?

Celibacy, thy name is Buffy.

Besides, it’s... Xander. Xander who buys me extra spicy pizza and nods understandingly when I get stressed and need to bitch about Dawn. Xander who just rolls his eyes and takes it in his stride when I feel the need to make YMCA jokes when he’s wearing his yellow hard hat. My best bud Xander. Xander who had been put into this little box in my head marked 'Xander and Anya live here now’. And okay, that’s now *so* over with and we all have much life revaluation on many levels to deal with. In many, many ways. Where our significant exs just happen to be of the demonic variety.

Again.

I do think that I got let off extremely lightly about the whole Spike situation, though. Worms staying firmly in the can on that issue. Thank god. I don’t think I want to rake back over the blisteringly hot coals of that particular huge mistake. I could never admit this out loud, not to my friends and certainly not to Spike, but I cared about him. I... care about him. More than I should. But he’s evil, and I don’t care if he does have his soul back. He’s a demon in sheep’s clothing and he needs more than I could ever give him to... to... get to wherever it is he has to go. It’s better that he’s with Angel. Who better than Angel could guide him? Or keep him in check? Bottom line, Spike comes back to Sunnydale he’d better be willing to fight. I won’t let him hurt me or the ones I love ever again. He has forever to work his problems out. My life? Way too short.

Or... maybe not. Seeing as I am up to Buffy version 3.0 at this stage, the new and improved model with electric sunroof, CD player and shiny golden halo as standard. Maybe, just maybe this time around it won’t be so short.

If it’s true.

Urgh. Where was I?

Oh yeah. Freaking out Xander.

I told him I was an angel. That freaked both of us out. I’m freaked out on a pretty much daily basis at this point, and honestly? It’s wearing a little thin. It’s been months since I last saw Skip and the future isn’t any clearer. I still don’t know what it all means and so I’m here, doing Slayery things by night in my new very hush-hush official capacity as Town Security Officer. Turns out Mayor ‘Not a Lizard’ Simpson is a warlock of an ancient order of Celtic Mystical Something-or-Others. It was pretty embarrassing when we burst into his office, accusations flying and ready to slay, and he was actually releasing the tortured spirits of various town officials from yesteryear who’d found themselves on the wrong side of the hellmouth. I got the 411 from Giles, and apparently he’s a bona fide good guy. Looks like there are still some of them left. Unlike our last illustrious mayor, this one stands firm on his policies of improving the inadequate street-lighting situation, better school lunches in the Greater Sunnydale community... and the total and complete eradication of all vampires and demons from the hellmouth.

Personally, I think he’s aiming a little high on the better lunches in schools deal.

I don’t think he knows he has an angel on the payroll though. Not unless he’s a lot higher up on the mystical food chain than we gave him credit for. It’s no big. Not to me anyways. I guess even angels have to make a living. A little birdy told me that they never die, though. Nope. They just move to LA and open detective agencies cum halfway houses for wayward vampires, demons and ex-cheerleaders. Still, somebody has to keep Dawn in the manner to which she has become accustomed and the Doublemeat just wasn’t cutting the mustard. Believe me when I say if I never smell, see or taste another burger it’ll be too soon.

Xander just turned a page.

Something’s lose in town. We’re not sure exactly what something, so hence we’re making with the reading. We’re looking for a demon. Large. Green skin. Hairless, furless and scale-free. I guess that’s pretty naked for a demon. Dawn was the only one got a good look at it. It got into one of the frat houses on the university campus and went berserk. Two students are in the hospital. There wasn’t much left of the frat house by the time it was finished. Nothing fatal though, thank god. Yet. And I intend to keep it that way. It was an unprovoked attack and it wasn’t feeding. Didn’t look like anyone had been trying to summon it in one of those alarmingly popular fratboy cults, either.

So we’re studying. And I can’t find a damn thing. So this just isn’t one of my strengths. Sue me. I’m good at other stuff. I have the high kicks thing going for me and I can eat with my toes. What? I can. I’m bendy. Like you wouldn’t do it if you could.

I’ve been testing myself at night to see if I have any new and undiscovered special powers. So far I don’t see any difference. I’m at the top of my game, don’t get me wrong. I just seem to keep getting stronger and faster as the days roll slowly on, but apart from the usual one chop beheadings and speed-stakings, I’m not seeing any new moves. No flying, no lightning bolts from my fingertips, no flaming swords of retribution or thundering voices of God.

The truth be told, it’s a little anti-climatic.

I didn’t even get that batphone to talk to God, or the Powers, or whoever the hell (whoever the... heaven?) I’m supposed to be working for now. At least with the Watcher’s Council I knew they were in jolly old England somewhere holed up with all the tea and crumpets needed to see them safely through a nuclear winter, but I mean really, how are you supposed to talk to God?

And yes, I’ve tried praying which, although oddly comforting, got me no result. Also secret late night summoning spells to try and get a hold of Skip, courtesy of some of Willow’s old magic books. Result? Nada.

At this point I’m considering just telling Giles the whole sorry story in one of our weekly phone calls. I’m sure he’ll have a prophecy or two at the ready to explain it all away and give me some clue about what the future will hold. But really, apart from the whole annoyance factor, and the lovely way they decided to tell me of my new calling by sending a huge hellbeast assassin type to kill me? Nothing’s really happened yet. Also, I don’t want Giles to fret and I’m a little worried about stirring up trouble, and by trouble I mean someone’s untimely death. Skip did say this whole deal was supposed to be a secret of the highest order. I wasn’t even supposed to tell Xander, but I sort of figured they would let that one slide seeing as how Xander was the one who guessed in the first place. The whole thing is starting to piss me off. Actually, scratch that. I’ve *been* pissed off, now I’m just hoping it’ll all fade away and isn’t actually as impressive or as life altering as it sounds.

I’m an angel.

I’m an angel.

I am an angel.

Nope. Still just Buffy. Buffy Summers. Good ‘ol Buffy, sittin’ in the Magic Box, twiddling my thumbs. Starin’ at the ceiling Buffy. That’s me.

‘Buffy!’

I jump about a foot out of my chair when Dawn suddenly yells my name.

‘What!?’

‘Stop daydreaming. We’re studying the boring old books here,’ she points at Xander and herself, seated on either side of me at the table. Anya, as per usual, is claiming shop duty as her get-out-of-research-free-card, but will saunter over to the table every so often to put in her annoyingly helpful two cents worth. Apart from that, she’s keeping a low profile.

‘Yeah?’ I say. ‘Um, good for you? Thank you?’

‘Actually not looking for praise,’ Dawn tells me in a voice that sounds awfully close to my Lecture Voice. She leans over and taps the page in front of me.

‘What?’ I ask, oh-so innocently and throw in a little shrug for good measure.

‘So you should be studying the boring old books too. Get with the reading and stop staring at the ceiling.’

I attempt a bewildered grin. ‘I was reading. I was so reading. Check me out, I’m Reading Girl. With the words. Whole sentences, in fact.’

Dawn’s not buying it.

‘Xander!’ I say accusingly, pointing at my Xander-shaped friend across the table. ‘Comic books! In-inside the big book. Xander’s reading comics.’

Sorry Xander, but if I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.

Dawn raises an eyebrow and turns her attention to the altogether much too calm looking Xander.

‘Xander?’ she asks patiently and I swear to God she sounds so much like mom I just want to pick her up and hug her right now.

Xander picks up his book and flips it upside down, waggling the pages over the table to show us that it’s empty.

Hey, wait just a minute... how did he...?

‘No good trying to shift the blame onto me, Buff,’ he says with this truly evil grin.

Have I mentioned how evil I think he is? I mean really.

‘But I saw...’

Dawn cuts me off with another mom-like tap on the pages in front of me.

‘Buffy. Study.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ I say, with only the tiniest roll of my eyes, and lower my gaze back to the book.

Of course I peek up in time to catch Xander pulling the comic out of his back pocket. He sticks his tongue out at me and I can’t help but grin back. That is just. So. Damn. Sneaky.

I wish I’d thought of it.

Time passes even more slowly after that. There are no more pretend fights to break up the monotony and Dawn even manages to stop me from initiating a game of footsie-war under the table with Xander. She doesn’t even have to speak this time to make us behave. All it takes is a *look*. Sometimes I wonder exactly who the big sister is in our atypical little family.

Minutes slip very, veeeerry slowly into hours and I can’t find a damn thing in all these stupid books about the stupid demon Dawn saw on the stupid campus and I wish I wasn’t so stupid along with everything else and maybe I should go to see the stupid Mayor. No wait. The Mayor isn’t stupid. He knows his demons back to front, inside out and upside down, and I know he has some reference books of his own that I’m sure would have Giles drooling onto the tweed for. He told me that I should feel free to drop by if I wanted to chat and if I had any problems I wanted to run by him and... oh boy. Me and the Mayor. Ha. If only Faith could see me now.

Xander just shifted in his chair and blew a lock of that hair out of his eyes.

I don’t get it. Why am I so tuned in to whatever he’s doing? Maybe I’m worried he’ll leap out of his chair, yell a very poetic something-or-other about not being able to forget our stolen moment in the rain, crawl across the table to me and declare his undying love.

Yeah. So even though Xander seems able to put that behind him, I guess I just have a slight embarrassment factor to work through and then things will get back to normal.

As normal as things get around here.

And normality might have to be put on hold because I think Dawn’s just found the demon we were searching for (jumping excitedly in her chair and yelling ‘Ooo! Ooo! I found the icky monster!’ sorta gave it away) but now she doesn’t look quite so happy.

‘A Bi... Bikanserus?’ I ask, trying to read the name of the demon in her book while it’s still upside down. She’s too busy reading the rest of the page with a disgusted expression on her face to answer me.

‘Eww, guys? This one belches out streams of burning stomach bile when it’s angry.’

Xander slides the book over and looks intently at the picture. ‘That’d explain the scorch marks we found in the frat house,’ he suggests.

You’ve gotta be kidding me. Burning stomach bile?

Great. Juuuust great. My life is one big party.

~~~

‘Xander! The sword!’

He throws it to me through the air and thank god for all men’s in-built ability to throw in a straight line because I have a demon who needs chopped into little pieces like *yesterday*. The burning stomach bile thing got really old, *really* fast and now I’m getting tired of all this ducking and weaving. Time to get brutal on his stinky (and trust me I do mean *stinky*) demon ass.

I get in a couple of good swings and thank god I decided to tie my hair back tonight because this guy can *move* and I need to be able to see. I keep losing track of him and I need to make sure he doesn’t get anywhere near Xander. We discovered pretty fast that we can’t hit him in the usual way because of the acid bile thing. It’s like going up against the momma from Aliens, but without the handy dandy mechanical loading suit thingie to help me fight. We do, however, have a multi-purpose enchanted sword. God bless the people who decide to keep blessing these things. I should really write them a thank you note.

Shit! And I should really pay more attention to the demon who just tried to melt my leg off at the knee.

He’s slowing down, though. I can see it. Good. I’m just getting warmed up.

I aim a kick to its chest and I can hear the leather of my boot sizzle, damn it. But he’s off balance and he goes down. Hard. That’s all the opening I need. I can hear the sword slicing through the air as I slam it down. Into his throat and *twist*. I swear the metal feels like an extension of my arm and I *know* that this is one dead hunk of demon lying at my feet.

Piece. Of. Cake.

‘Buffy?’

Xander.

Demon forgotten. Sword forgotten.

‘Xander? Are you okay?’

He looks okay. Physically, I mean. There are a few blisters across the back of his left hand, I guess there was a little splatter from Burp Boy, but apart from that, he looks okay. Lying on his back on the grass resting up on his elbows, staring at me from under the dark hair hanging in his eyes as always, but basically okay.

‘Sure. All limbs present and accounted for. Still conscious. That’s usually a good sign.’

‘Usually,’ I agree.

‘Is it dead?’

He raises his chin to the demon I know is lying on the ground behind me. I glance back over my shoulder and see the corpse, sword still sticking out of its throat, pinning it to the ground.

‘As a doornail.’

‘Damn. I was just starting to get him on the ropes, y’know?’

‘Sure you were.’ I hold out my hand to help him up and he takes it with a smile. Just as I pull him up, he yelps with pain and snatches his hand back. Crap. His left hand. I should’ve been more careful. I have to be more careful.

‘Sorry! Sorry! Wasn’t paying attention. Is it bad?’

He shakes his head and gets awkwardly to his feet, but he doesn’t say anything and he’s white-faced, still cradling his hand, so I know he’s trying to hold it in. It’s got to really hurt. Just look what that thing did to my boots.

‘Can I... let me see.’

With a little grimace, that he hides just a fraction of a second too late, he holds out his hand dutifully. Not too bad, I guess.

‘Scale of one to ten?’ I ask. ‘One being a walk in the park... in daylight hours and not over a hellmouth, and ten being "kill me now to end this everlasting torment".’

He thinks about this for a second.

‘Three?’

That means it’s at least a five. It’s really got to hurt. We should make sure it gets cleaned up properly. It’s generally not a good idea to have bodily fluids from demons in close contact with human flesh for any longer than absolutely necessary. And that did *not* just start me thinking really inappropriate and ill-timed thoughts about vampiric bodily fluid and my once human flesh.

I mean it. It didn’t.

There are a couple of blisters across the back of his hand, like I said, and then a trail of singed material up the sleeve of his jacket. Like it all hit him in one long stream of the gross bile stuff. How the hell did he manage to get this? When I expressly told him to stay out of harm’s... waitasecond. When the Bikanserus made me drop the sword... pushed me out of the way. I was all turned around... couldn’t see... Xander was there to pick it up.

‘Xander! That was so stupid!’

I’ve let go of his hand... annnd suddenly I’m scolding him.

‘You can’t do things like that! I’m the strong one. It’s my job. I told you to stay back. You couldn’t even get close to this guy without getting hurt. We knew that. We talked about it on the way over here, remember? You were supposed to stay back. You *promised* me, otherwise I wouldn’t have even let you come with me!’

And yes, my hands are on my hips and I am sticking my chin out as I yell at him. He’s torn between looking like a kicked puppy and wildly indignant. Wild indignation seems to be winning.

‘Hey hey! Who’s the super duper strong girl who manages to drop her only weapon against the big untouchable evil, huh?’

Damn. He’s playing hardball.

‘Yeah? And I could have made a super speedy recovery and come back to save the day, whereas you could have ended up dead!’

Flash of kicked puppy, quickly squelched by heaps more wild indignation. I just insulted his manhood, didn’t I? Great. Obviously mouth is stuck in a higher gear than brain this evening.

‘Dead!? Do you have any idea how many times *you* would have been dead if it wasn’t for... And you’re the one who has the inside scoop on dying, anyway. Mere mortal here,’ he points to himself, ‘and I’ve managed to stay alive just fine, thank you very much.’

Oh no he di-n’t!

I am so very pissed off right now, no fair playing the dying card, and I so have a million comebacks for that... but Xander is making a very strange face at something just over my shoulder. Please don’t tell me that a sword through the throat isn’t enough to kill this guy, because I’m sort of in the middle of something here and really not in the mood to...

Oh. No. Dead demon is still dead. New demon, however, has just arrived.

And the award for the world’s worst timing goes to...

‘Skip,’ I sigh. ‘How’s it hanging?’

‘Buffy.’ He nods in greeting, but I can see a sparkle of a smile in his eyes. Bastard was watching us argue. Once a mighty hell beast, now a peeping tom. I’m sure he’d love it if I made that thought verbal.

‘Still joined at the hip to loverboy, I see.’

‘He’s not my...’

‘I’m not her...’

Xander and I answer him at the same time, and apparently we’re still in the mood to argue, it just doesn’t necessarily have to be with each another. I’m expecting Skip to come back with one of his typically laid back and yet highly irritating responses, but instead he’s staring at Xander with confusion.

Xander, meanwhile, is elbowing me furiously in the ribs.

‘That’s him! That’s the guy! The white demon I couldn’t find in any of the books. That’s the one I saw snooping around after you.’

I’m about to answer, but Skip beats me to it.

‘What!? You mean he can see me?’

Huh. A new emotion from Skip. Now it’s his turn for Surprise Face. And yet I still can’t get a word in edgeways.

‘Yeah, of course I can see you,’ Xander snaps. ‘I’m standing right here. What am I, blind?’

Skip is now gaping at Xander open-mouthed. ‘You can *hear* me?’

Xander is now a little confused. A little *more* confused.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say to Xander. ‘I should have told you. Xander, this is Skip. Skip, Xander. Skip here is my... well, he’s my...’ Okay, I’m stumped. ‘What are you anyway?’

Skip sighs. ‘Your Messenger from the Powers.’

‘Right, right. He’s my messenger.’

I watch Xander eyeing him warily. ‘Aren’t those the people you’re supposed to shoot?’ he asks.

Skip narrows his eyes at that and I’m... trying not to giggle.

Xander is looking back and forth between us. ‘This is the guy I’ve been researching for a week now,’ he says, and to someone who didn’t know him, his voice would sound calm. But I do know him, and he’s really pissed off about *something*. ‘I even looked through most of the really old stinky books in the back...’

‘The ones Dawn spilt skunk juice on that time?’ I ask.

‘Yeah.’ He’s really glaring at me now. ‘*Those* books. I went through everything I could think of trying to find out about this guy. You saw me! And you knew who he was the whole time?’

Poor Xander. Now he *sounds* pissed, too. I’m just thinking “skunk juice” and I’m *really* trying not to giggle.

‘Xander, I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to tell, remember? The angel thing? It’s all undercover secret stuff under pain of death for mere mortals. Secret organisation? I report to a higher power?’

‘Sounds like the Initiative,’ he grumbles.

Ouch. Low blow. Giggles subsiding pretty damn quickly.

‘It’s not like the Initiative,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘It’s... it’s...’ Okay, so I’m not entirely sure on that point, but whatever this argument is about, I’m quite clearly right. And he’s quite clearly not. ‘Higher power, Xander. Moves in mysterious ways. Ours is not to reason why.’ When exactly did I turn into Cliché Girl? ‘Maybe... maybe I should have told you, but I don’t understand all of this myself yet.’

‘Yeah? Maybe you should have told me because maybe all of this is just some really elaborate lie. Did you ever think of that? Maybe our man Skip here is just playing with you. He is a demon after all. I didn’t think they’d be too big on letting demons into heaven.’

Grrr. It’s not a lie. I may not have been sure of very many things in my life but I just *know* that I haven’t been lied to here. How do I know? Well... that part I don’t know. Yes, yes, colour me illogical, but evil just doesn’t work this way. I’ve *felt* evil, up close and personal. I know it inside out. This just isn’t evil.

‘They let demons into heaven,’ Skip counters. And just who the hell let him into my argument? ‘Heaven is for the worthy. For the righteous. For the strong.’

‘How about for the people with red eyes and horns? I thought you guys went to hell and liked it there.’

Skip looks pretty mad, and I really wish Xander would remember to watch his mouth around demon types, but he’s never held back in fights since I’ve known him.

‘Hell is for the evildoer. Don’t you kids read the bible anymore? It’s all right there in black and white. ‘Course, you have to read between the lines a little, but they basically had the right idea.’

‘So you’re telling me you’re one of the good guys? Forgive me if I seem a little dubious.’

‘You’re forgiven,’ Skip says, and takes a step towards Xander. Before I can stop him, he raises his arm, and brings it down on Xander’s head.

I’ve leapt forward, instantly ready to attack, but Skip only lays his hand gently on Xander and says, ‘Sleep.’

Xander crumples to the ground and lies unconscious at our feet.

‘Xander!’ I drop to my knees and try to shake him awake, even as I know it won’t do any good.

Skip is using his imposing voice again as he booms down at me: ‘Buffy Summers, I bring you a message from the Powers.’

‘What? Forget it! What have you done to Xander?’

‘He’s only sleeping,’ Skip says, and he sounds both bored and a little curious that I’m so worried.

I sit back on my heels. ‘Does he really have to be unconscious for all our conversations?’

Skip actually has the nerve to roll his eyes at that. He clears his throat, shifts his feet a little, like he’s trying to find a new way to balance his weight, and says again, ‘Buffy Summers, I bring you a message from the powers.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Do you have to do the amateur dramatic thing?’ I ask snippily. ‘Aren’t we past that stage yet?’

He scratches his jaw. Hey. The bandage is gone. I knew something looked different about him. There is a scar, though. It’s quite Harrison Ford-esque, if I do say so myself.

‘I guess so,’ he decides.

I sigh heavily (there’s no rule about *me* doing the amateur dramatic thing) and stand up.

‘So. What’s this warning?’

‘Your friend is in trouble.’

Five simple little words.

‘What? My... which friend?’

‘The demon girl. She needs your help. She doesn’t know it yet, but a world of trouble is headed her way.’

‘Anya? But she’s a demon. Strong. Able. Why would she need me?’

‘I’m just giving you the heads up. You don’t want to listen to me, fine. No skin off my... hmmm.’ He rubs his chin with a slight frown. ‘But trust me, your friend? She’s been sitting on the fence a little too long. About to make a bad decision. You might want to stop her. Where to you think the Bikanserus came from?’

I can actually feel the blood draining out of my face.

‘Anya did that?’ Is it me, or does my voice sound very tiny? ‘But she wouldn’t... I mean she couldn’t summon something like that... she’s our friend. She’s-'

‘A Vengeance Demon?’ Skip butts in.

Yeah. I hang my head. She’s a Vengeance Demon and Xander tried to tell me this already. I just didn’t want to go through it all again. What is it with me and all my friends intermittently turning evil? But she’s not evil. She’s... Anya. Anyanka. Just the same as she ever was. A Vengeance Demon.

I’ve been a bad, neglectful Slayer... uh, angel.

‘Yeah.’ And my voice is still sounding pretty small. ‘Yeah. I’ll go talk to her.’

‘You do that. Make sure it’s a good talk. There are some strong forces watching her and it’s up to her how she proves herself to them. Which side she ultimately chooses. Her choice. Either way it won’t be an easy ride.’

‘Is it ever?’

‘No,’ he says, and in that magical Skip way, he manages to put a whole lot of understanding into one little word.

I nod dejectedly. ‘So, uh, so is this like my first mission? Because I really don’t know what the whole deal is here yet.’

‘This?’ Magical Understanding Skip is replaced by a big white mean demon who lets out a piggy snort of laughter at my expense. ‘This isn’t a mission. This is a friendly warning. This is like... insider information. You’re on our team now so we’re just giving you a heads up. She’s your friend. She could be a good one. Or she could start going all...’ he waves his arms around in the air and doesn’t look very imposing at all for about eight seconds, ‘...homicidal psychobitch and you, and someone else would have to try and take her out. You just get a chance to try and stop that from happening.’

I just nod. And it’s a grateful nod. I don’t want to fight Anya. Not if I can help her. I... I don’t want another Willow on my conscience.

‘Oh, and there’s more. You remember when I told you more were coming?’

No! I don’t want to hear anymore! La la la, can’t hear you!

‘Hey, I sort of thought that we were done with the whole “trying to kill me” thing.’

‘Yeah, well, they’re still coming,’ he says. ‘They’re just not coming from us.’

Why don’t I like the sound of this?

‘Word is *out*. The grapevine is humming. “A new angel has been called.” “She’s an ex-Slayer.” “A Slayer you say?” “Yeah, the hellmouth Slayer. Uh huh. *That* one.” You have a lot of evilness very worried. In more than one dimension.’

Oh. Joy.

‘Yeah, so that “more will come” thing? Well they’re almost here. Come with me. I’ll show you.’

I don’t move from Xander’s side. ‘Wait, we can’t just leave him here.’

Skip waves my concern away. ‘He’ll be fine.’

‘In a cemetery? At two in the morning? On the hellmouth?’

Skip rubs his chin again. I’m thinking that he’s really missing that ring. ‘You do have a point.’

Magical Skip returns with a flourish as he reaches into thin air and produces a small piece of parchment, which he then hands to me. The paper is rough and feels oddly heavy in my hands. There’s an address on it, written in a dated elegant script. It’s strange seeing a street address complete with zip code written like that.

‘Here. There’s six of them. Five Splintag ghouls and a Phaeldan demon. They’re holed up at this address, waiting for a moonless night. It’s all superstition, of course, but try telling a Splintag ghoul that the moon doesn’t effect his prowess.’

Waitaminute. That’s it? I think Skip can tell I’m waiting for him to say something else.

‘You’ll need silver for the demon and a non-corporeal host to fight the ghouls. Mark my words,’ he says gravely as I’m still examining the paper.

I look up at him slowly, as though my moving fast will spook him. ‘What? No vague prophecies? Are you for real?’

Skip nods, not really understanding my excitement at receiving such potentially bad news. He’s a demon, what does he know?

‘It’s finally happened?’ I ask, waving the scrap of parchment at him. ‘I just get directions and a time frame and a “go kill the bad guys”? *Really*?’

He nods and... wow. Is it odd that this news makes me so happy I could hug him? But directions and clear, easy to follow instructions? Wow. This could mean, and I sincerely hope I don’t jinx myself by saying this, but this could mean an end to researching as we know it!

Skip seems a little put out that I’m smiling as he’s doing his best impression of a harbinger of doom and sorrow. But I mean, come *on* - no more researching!

‘Really. But they are only the first of many. More will come, Buffy Summers. Mark my-’

‘I got it,’ I say. ‘Your words are marked.’

‘Hmm. This is also a test. We shall be watching you. And should you need help... well. We shall deal with that when the time comes.’

And... and... no. I can hardly believe it. I get... *reinforcements* too? Why couldn’t I have been made an angel years ago?

I’m still standing there, clutching the parchment, grinning like a loon, when Skip turns to go.

‘Hey, Skip?’

He pauses, half looking at me over his not insubstantial shoulder.

‘Listen, em, I wanted to ask you a question, and you haven’t exactly been Mr Availability recently, but, ah, the thing was...’

‘You wanted to know why you were chosen?’

‘In a nutsh...’

Crap. I did *not* just go there, and great, now he’s grinning. Skip one, Buffy zero.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Not really, no. Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.’

He pins me with this look. Not hard, not soft. Sort of... questioning, and all-knowing at the same time. Like he knows everything there is to know about me and yet he’s still trying to figure me out.

I think I could get to like this Messenger.

‘You’re the best of the best, Buffy Summers, no longer the Slayer. Simple as that. You’ve never been defeated.’

Never been...? He’s kidding, right? I open my mouth to argue, but he doesn’t even let me get started.

‘Not when it mattered. Not in your heart. You gave and gave and gave until you had nothing left to give but absolutely everything you were. You gave that too.’

The hardest thing in this world. I know that story.

‘I have seen you. Your effect on this world. I walk the dimensions, just as you will one day. I have seen worlds fighting to survive without you. I have seen worlds where you gave in to the darkness.’

Why does this not sound like a good thing?

‘Trust me when I say that you have done good things here, Buffy Summers. The right things. You gave where others would have turned and run away. You succeeded where others would have failed.’

He smiles and shakes his head and for just a second it reminds me of Spike. Complimenting me and making fun of me at the same time, like I’m an idiot because I just can’t see what they do.

‘You gave and gave and the world was stripped away from you until you were all that was left. You sacrificed your love when the world demanded it.’

Angel.

‘You gave your life when another was being asked for the sacrifice. The ultimate gift.’

Dawn.

‘You’ve made mistakes, true. But nobody’s perfect. We know that. Well, y’know, except for...’

He looks skyward and points up with his thumb. I look up at the stars. They’re all there. Right where I left them. Twinkling.

‘Then? Then you were rewarded.’

Rewarded? I am not going to cry. Damn it. This guy should be a motivational speaker or something. A few dozen words and I’m already reduced to quivering lip status. But it’s like he’s a part of all that, even though I didn’t know him then. But he’s seen my heaven. He knows what it’s like there.

Not going to cry.

‘Yes, but then...’

I’m not.

He gives me a tiny nod of understanding and saves me from the strain of trying to form those pesky little words. ‘That too was taken from you and again you came to accept so you could live again. Live for them and fight again. You let go of your eternal happiness as a gift to them because giving is all you know how to do. It’s what you’ve always done.’

I’m not that good. He’s obviously only been giving edited highlights of the Buffy Summers life story. Sure I fought, but what choice did I have? If I didn’t do it, who else was there? Somebody had to fight for Dawn and for Xander and Willow. For my mom, and Giles. Anya. Oz. Cordelia. Angel. The kids at school. The people in town. Everybody I know. Everybody... everybody there is. Somebody had to fight for them. It just happened to be me. A lot.

But I didn’t always win. You can’t win them all. I lost Faith. Willow’s still lying in that hospital bed all empty and not Willowy. What was their friend called? Jesse. The very first thing I did when I came to town was fail them and Jesse got taken. And now I can barely even remember his name. That's how great I am. And then... Kendra. Miss Calendar. It’s beyond me to help Spike. There are so many others that died and were lost and were hurt because I wasn’t there in time. Or I didn’t know enough. Or I didn’t try hard enough.

I said wasn’t going to cry.

‘Be strong, Buffy. There is so much more for you. You think you know what you are? What’s to come? You haven’t even begun.’

I swear I should just get those words tattooed on my forehead.

‘So I’ve heard.’

‘Yes, but do you believe?’

‘I-I think I’m starting to.’

‘Good.’ He looks satisfied with my answer. I’m starting to feel like this is a really weird test that I haven’t studied for. Why do I get to be the bug under the microscope?

‘You want answers?’

Oh god yes. I nod so hard it hurts my neck. Words are not an option until I manage to swallow this lump in my throat.

‘Okay, answers. You haven’t been activated yet, not to your full potential. It would be too dangerous to give you that power without training, no matter how much you think you already know.’

I can just hear the unspoken “arrogant little thing, ain’tcha?”.

‘You chose to stay here and so you are still in human form, with one or two... modifications.’

Time to speak. I swallow. Hard.

‘Mod-modifications? Like what? I-I get the lightning bolts from the fingertips thing?’

‘No. There may be slight additions to your strengths. They will come from inside you and you must discover them on your own. Basically you’re like you were. Strong, fast, able.’

‘So you’re telling me...’ I feel my eyebrow raising of it’s own accord. ‘I’m a Slayer?’

‘In a nut... *ahem* yes. In practical terms the two could be seen as quite similar. In paradimensional terms? The two are divided by aeons.’

‘Paradimensional? Did you just make that word up?’

‘Maybe.’ He actually *grins* at me. Bastard. Then it’s his turn to raises an eyebrow at me. ‘It takes time to earn your wings, y’know. That old myth about “every time a bell rings...” - not true. Although the movie definitely makes my top ten list. Being an angel, it’s all about trials of fire. Tests of temptation and endurance. Abstinence and flagellation.’

‘Flatulence?’ I ask, and actually manage to keep a straight face.

I’ve interrupted his big deep ’n’ meaningful speech and it takes him a second to realise what I’ve just said. I expect him to rise to the bait, but all I get is a reproachful ‘Hmmmm.’ Now he has Giles Face.

Ha. I still got it.

He steps forward and stands beside me and joins me in looking down at the peaceful Xander still asleep on the long grass.

‘Have it your way.’

My way? Again - Ha! I win!

‘These things are of the future. Just remember angel, you are precious to us and you are worthy.’

I'm precious and worthy. Me.

‘And... there are other rewards.’

Rewards? I get rewards? Are we talking cookies here?

‘There are?’

Skip nods, without looking up from Xander. ‘Your white knight. Mr Pure Heart, remember? He saw through you. He *didn’t* see right through me which shouldn’t really be possible as I’m not even completely manifested in this dimension, and I’m having the damnedest time trying to see into him. He’s quite the enigma, your Alexander Harris.’

‘My Xander Harris,’ I agree. And is it me, or does Skip’s smile suddenly look like he’s thinking “Awwwww” at me?

‘So, um, you were saying? My other rewards?’

Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but y’know, if someone’s giving out reward cookies, I want in on that action.

'What are you? Retarded?’

Huh? This is so not a cookie speech. I might just mention at this point that Skip is no longer sounding quite so much the motivational speaker and more like that annoying surfer guy he can turn into on occasion.

‘*He's* your reward.'

I stare at Skip.

He’s pointing down at Xander.

I stare at Xander.

Then I go back to staring at Skip.

'He's my... Xander's my what now?'

'Your reward. Look into your heart, Buffy Summers. See what is right for you, see what you deserve.'

He’s... he’s serious! Xander is my... wait. Is he seriously serious?

‘Xander’s my reward?’

‘Are you asking me or just trying it out for sound?’

‘I’m...’

I’m stuck for words. Why am I stuck for words?

'You’re not kidding.’

‘I’m not kidding.’

He’s not kidding.

Xander’s my reward. This’d better not be some twisted cosmic practical joke or I’ll be seriously pissed at... somebody.

‘Then what?'

Skip rolls his eyes. 'Then get your angel ass in gear and jump his bones. Simple.’

Hold up. Did he say what I think he just said? Something about me jumping Xander’s bones? Although he does have very nice bones, I’m sure, but are they the sort of bones that I can see myself jumping?

I have a headache.

‘My time here is at an end for now.’

Huh? I look up and Skip’s already several feet away from me. I chase after him.

‘You’re leaving? You can’t go now! I’m highly confused! Need input to the questions.’

He looks at me fondly. ‘I don’t have all the answers. I’m just the messenger, remember? I give you the heads up, you deal. That’s the way it works.’

‘But... but...’

There’s white smoke swirling around him now, coming from nowhere that I can see. It smells slightly pine foresty and completely familiar. Skip smiles at me as he melts away into it.

‘Catch you later, Buffy Summers, no longer the Slayer.’

And just like that, he’s gone. Damn it. I hate it when people disappear into clouds of smoke before I’m done talking to them.

I stand there like a loon for a long time before I shake my head to try and clear it and walk back to Xander. He’s still asleep, but he’s mumbling and it looks like he’s about to wake up. I’m about to take his hand, but then I remember the blisters and his other, unhurt arm is trapped under his body. I eventually settle for shaking his shoulder. I think he says something about strawberry poptarts, and slowly opens his eyes.

‘Hey Buffy,’ he croaks.

‘Hey Xander.’

‘Where’s the white guy?’ he asks as he sits up a little and rests his hand on my knees for balance.

‘Gone.’

‘Did he hurt you?’

‘No. He’s on our side, remember?’

He ‘hmms’ like he doesn’t quite believe me, but I guess he decides to let it go. ‘Yeah. He’s pretty fly for a white guy.’

I groan. ‘That’s pretty bad even by your standards.’

‘Sorry,’ he shrugs. ‘Still asleep. Best I could do under the circumstances. Oh, hey Buffy?’ he asks lightly. ‘What are you doing to my hand?’

‘Did I hurt you again? I’m sorry, I...’

‘No, Buff,’ he cuts me off. ‘Look.’

I look. His hand is healed. Not a blister, not a scrape, not a blemish.

Wow. How the hell did that happen?

‘How did you do that?’ he asks.

‘Me? I didn’t do anything.’

‘You were, uh, stroking my hand and now...’

‘I was?’

Miraculous healing powers? Oooh, new super powers! I have new super powers! Finally. “They will come from inside me and I must discover them on my own.” *Pshaw*. Skip so could have told me about this one.

Xander’s still sitting, with me kneeling beside him, and we’re both examining his hands with wonder. Our fingers are all tangled up as we prod at his miraculously healed skin, but I find myself looking away from his hands and into his face. His eyes are lit with this wondrous glow as we sit there like little kids with a special new toy. I’m not sure how long I watch him before he looks up and catches me staring. He tosses me this unguarded smile and without any words I know he’s asking me what I’m thinking.

What am I thinking?

I wonder what he’d do if...

‘Xander?’

‘Yeah?’

Okay, so now his smile melts away and he’s confused. And a little wary. I don’t blame him. I know I’m looking at him funny and he’s probably remembering the last couple of times I looked at him this way. Rubbing up against him so i could sniff him and grunt a little when I went all one million years B.C.. Yes, I remember that, and yes, he did smell good. Then there were love spells and short black silk robes with nothing on underneath. Not forgetting dirty dancing to make him feel like less of a man while I used him to make Angel jealous. I used him. God, I’m a bitch. I know it. I try to hide it, but it’s always there, just beneath the surface. And he knows that too, damn him. I’m not playing now, though. And somehow that doesn’t sound as scary as it should.

‘Xander.’

That night. In the rain. I didn’t analyse it too much. I didn’t let myself. I couldn’t. There were emotions running high at the time, I guess. So I let it slide. A kiss between friends in an odd situation. Not too awkward, friendship stronger because of the moment we shared. Nothing negative. Just a kiss. A meeting of lips.

Fact remains, Xander kissed me that night and I let him.

No. That’s not fair. I didn’t let him. It was like... I met him halfway. He was so worried about me and he thought I’d gone again. He thought I’d died. ‘Cept I can’t now, or so they say. He backed off as soon as he realised what he’d done. He expected me to do what I’d always done before. Smile sadly. Pat him on the arm. Tell him I was sorry. That he was my friend and I just didn’t see him that way. Thing is, I never really looked before. I was always too busy looking in other places.

He swallows. I can see his Adam’s apple bob nervously. Is he scared of me? Or scared of what I’m doing? My fingertips are on his chin, grazing over the slight stubble there. This is a bad idea. A bad, bad idea. Along his jaw now, and he’s still not doing anything. Just watching me as I explore his face with my hands. I must have touched Xander a million times before, but never like this.

‘Xander.’

Never like this. I can’t stop saying his name. What am I doing?

(... if I thought you had one clue what it would mean to me... but you don't. So I can't...)

I never really looked before. Honest, I didn’t. And I tried not to think about it, but when we kissed it was like the world cracked open a little and showed me this all-new Xander. With all that passion and worry and the rain running down our faces. An all new Xander that was still the same guy I’d always loved, but just a little different.

But what a difference.

‘Buf-fy?’

He *is* nervous. His voice hitched as he said my name. He used his serious-but-scared voice. He hasn’t even made a joke, or tried to run away from me. He’s just... letting me. I’m very close now. I can taste his breath. It’s sweet. If I do this I can’t pretend I didn’t start it. Can’t pretend I didn’t want it. But I do want it. I really do. When did that happen? The thought of stopping this now is just... no.

I lean forward as my hands slide into his hair and I kiss him, trusting him to hold us up. I did this. I wanted this. This time it’s me kissing Xander. My best friend Xander. Xander who I love like a brother... right? And he’s letting me. He’s letting me do whatever I want, and he’s kissing me back. I remember now, the way that he kisses. Like there’s nothing else in the world but this kiss. It’s so hot and sweet and wet and... mmmm, god. Tongues. So good. We fit together so well.

Xander. I’m kissing Xander.

I can feel his arms shaking and he finally just lets go. We fall back to the ground and never break apart. His hands are on my sides, just holding me, pulling at my hips a little. I’m lying half across his chest as his hands slowly slide their way up my ribs and – holy shit – because it obviously wasn’t hard enough to snatch breaths of air before and now he does that and it just makes me *squirm* against him and I really need to learn how to breathe through my nose because I’m not breaking away from *this* kiss.

He’s holding me against the length of him now, and I’m sort of curled around him. He’s strong, and I feel tiny against him. I never felt tiny with Xander before. I think I like it.

We sit up as we finally break apart and he stares at me. Still holding me. Stares right at me, and I haven’t seen Xander look at me like this for a long time.

‘So that was... that was you kissing me.’

‘Yeah. That was me kissing you.’

‘Am... am I ever going to be able to kiss you when we’re *not* in a graveyard?’

‘You can kiss me anywhere you want,’ I say earnestly.

That did it.

We both start giggling.

He stands up and offers me his hand. I take it and he lifts me to my feet, with a little extra tug so that I’m pulled against him. So not complaining.

I get serious when I realise that he’s holding my hands again, rubbing his (thank god) blister-free thumbs over my palms. I watched them move in soft circles and focused on the tingles running up my arms. Good tingles. Good tingles made even better by the fact that I was feeling them with Xander.

It’s funny the way you can show someone you care by the way that you touch them. When you love someone a touch means so much more. I... I guess Xander loves me. I mean I knew that, but it’s like I just gave him permission to show me. Touches and looks can suddenly be used to mean more than words have before. I like this. I really do.

‘Buffy?’

‘Yeah?’ I finally looked up from watching our hands, peeking at him from under my eyelashes, not really sure where to go from here.

‘Is this real? I mean... is this really happening?’

‘It feels real,’ I tell him. He smiles at that.

‘It, uh, it feels... weird.’

There’s my Xander. But I have to agree.

‘It does, doesn’t it? But good weird. Really good weird. Like something I had all along just got a whole lot better.’

‘Really?’ he asks, sounding a lot like that little boy I met in high school.

(...Can I have you, duh, can I help you?...)

‘Really. I guess it’s... I mean... I’m sorry.’

‘What are you apologising for?’

I’m not really sure. Nothing. Everything. I can only shrug in reply. His hands let go of mine and I actually pout at the loss of his touch. Loss of Xander touches.

‘So what are we doing here?’

‘Here? There was that demon...’ I point behind me with my thumb. It’s only then that I realise we’ve been making out on a grave, mere feet away from a rapidly decomposing demon corpse.

Welcome to the Hellmouth.

Xander shakes his head. Do I really have to mention how cute the hair in his eyes thing is again?

‘No, not “what are we doing here in this cemetery” here. I mean, what are we *doing* here?’ He gestures to both of us. ‘We. Me and you. What is this?’

That’s not fair. Why does he get to ask the tricky questions? I was quite happy with the hand holding leading to the more kissing part of what we were doing. But now he’s gone and asked.

What is this?

What do I want here? I’m not playing, am I? No. No, not playing. I have the tingles to prove it. The nervousness. I’m tongue tied with Xander of all people. Then there’s the need to stare into space and think about -eek!- boys and have girly giggles with friends about it. Although, Anya’s probably out for that particularly chat. Way, *way* out. Ex-fiancée vengeancy type issues ahoy. Willow won’t actually be great with the actual words of advice being as the most we’ve managed to get out of her so far is a lot of tears and the occasional radiant smile when our words filter through. God, I miss her. She’d understand about this. Maybe even more than Anya. She’d understand why I love Xander.

I love Xander.

And no way am I having that sort of conversation with Dawn. She doesn’t get to talk about boys until she’s thirty-five. At least.

And, okay, losing my mind. Need to focus on the now. He’s my reward for a job well done, right? Although I’m thinking he might be more than that.

What is this?

What do I want? I want... him. I want Xander, and the idea of that nearly makes me grin because it’s just crazy insane, but he’s looking at me so seriously and I don’t grin because, boy, do I want him. And it’s a good want.

He’s safe and he’s my friend. Isn’t evil and probably won’t be turning evil in the near future, which is always a bonus. He’s strong and generous and funny and gorgeous and tall and really *good* and it feels like I’ve already loved him forever. Friendship love, yes, but how hard could it be to really love him? *Really* love him? Yeah, I know, I’m getting ahead of myself. A few stolen kisses after patrol do not a match made in heaven make.

And speaking of heaven, what will that mean? Is it as simple as that? Or as literal? I don’t die, so do I stay young now ‘cause of the angel gig and have to watch him... all of them grow old around me? Could I really do that? Could he? He hasn’t even thought about that. I know he hasn’t. I haven’t. It’s too big. It’s too scary. Maybe he started to think about it and pushed it to one side. I should know. That’s exactly what I did when...

If Angel... if things had been different, would we have ended up together? Sometimes I’d like to think so. He’ll always be firmly and safely in that rose-tinted bubble in my head of a hazy happy high school time before broken curses and my first certified apocalypse. I’d like to think so, but I doubt it. I’m different now. I’ve grown up. Learnt a lot of things. I was only a little girl when I met him. A little girl with a mission, yes, but I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

I’ve still got a lot to learn. I still get wobbly when I try and face the “real” world. You know, that world where there’s sunshine and people and jobs and grocery shopping and mortgage payments and using the right fork in restaurants and making small talk? Gimme a nice vampire to slay and I’m your girl. Polite dinner conversation and parent/teacher meetings? I missed out on that stuff. And yeah, I’m still young, but I don’t feel it. Immortals and humans. Could it work? Are the tables turned now? Xander and I have grown up together. That means we still get to act like kids with each other. I know there’s a rule about that somewhere. But it also means that we rely on each other. See each other through the hard times, even when there’s been so many of them that I’ve lost count.

‘Buffy? I wouldn’t mind an answer here.’

He’s shifting his weight from foot to foot and looks like he wants to bolt again. Good to see that kissing me still makes him want to run away. He hasn’t taken his eyes off mine, though. This is too important to him. Trying to read my mind, Xander? You think you can make any more sense of what’s in here than I can? He hates to put his heart on the line like this, but he’s willing to risk it. For me. And I know I’ve shot him down before. More than once. Lifetimes ago.

‘I can’t... I just can’t get all wrapped up in you again if you haven’t thought about this. It’s... it’s too easy to fall for you and it’s too hard getting over you to have to go through it all again.’

Wow. That’s... wow. He’s so serious. And, okay, *now* it’s scary. Scary questions and confessions time. I don’t understand how people can care about me so much. I’m so lucky to have them. I’m lucky.

‘Buffy?’

I reach up and cover his lips with my fingertips and I give him this shy smile, which I hope looks as disarmingly cute as I’m trying to make it.

‘We’re... starting something new,’ I tell him. ‘We already know how much we care about each other and now there’s...’

‘More?’ he asks hopefully. For a second I’m wondering if he’s finishing my sentence for me or asking a whole new type of question.

Okay, talking is not as easy as I thought it would be. He still hasn’t looked away and my stomach has decided to start tying itself in knots. Great timing. He takes hold of my hand and lowers it from his lips. Oooh, and the thumb rubs are back. He laces our fingers together and just *flexes* gently, like he’s inviting me to step closer. I’ll see that invitation and raise you a full body hug. I could really get used to this. I could get used to thinking up ways that I can seduce him. Or maybe we could take turns at the seducing.

‘More,’ I say with a slight nod as I discover that I can’t look away either. My voice sounds more than just a little breathy to my ears. My eyes close and I shut out the rest of the world as our smiles meet and dissolve into another kiss that takes my breath away.

Now I’m wondering which question it was I answered.

I decide that I have all the time in the world to find out.

~Fin~