The Mantra

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  For Halloween, Xander dressed as Old Man Xander. Originally, he thought to dress as the Soldier, but decided he needed a scapegoat to blame all of his advanced skills on. His friends might believe the Soldier instilled a sense of discipline in him, but forging magical weapons might be harder to believe. The moment the Janus curse began, Xander’s spine hunched forward and he became a feeble eighty-year-old man that his friends had to take care of.

  Since Xander knew he’d only slow his friends down, he had already planted the seeds Giles and Willow—as well as calling Angel to arrive earlier—so that the Scoobies could solve the problem quickly. He may be feeble and near death, but the very least he could do was make certain the Janus Curse wouldn’t last for very long. The night was relatively young by the time Giles smashed the bust of Janus, ending the curse on the town. Though he felt embarrassed about being locked in a closet for his safety, the momentary indignity was a small price to pay for the freedom he’ll gain because of it.

  When Xander returned home, he finally had a moment of peace to think about everything he’d experienced since the start of the time braid—the hard-earned wisdom he had gained. Learning that he needed to stand up for himself to pass a time barrier was important. The same could be said for mastering a trade, mastering his body, and mastering his emotional ability. However, the critical part he was missing—the distinction Higher Being Cordelia had pointed out—was that he needed to do all of those things for himself, not simply to escape the time braid.

  The looping shouldn’t have even been a factor and Xander knew that imperceptible difference to be true when he saw the history of his parents. If not for the juiced-up therapy session from hell—or heaven—he never would’ve considered trying to make amends with them. He would’ve been smarter, stronger, and happy to be free of them because he wouldn’t have seen them as a factor of getting out of the time braid.

  Now, however—as he watched them eat their cereal in complete silence the following morning—Xander felt, in his soul, that he couldn’t allow their relationship to remain stagnant. His miserable and broken parents were now a big part of his checklist, and not simply to escape the time braid, but because he carried his family everywhere he went. His mother, father, and grandparents were a part of his vessel, and he could never move forward without realizing that.

  On his way to school, Xander thought of the pseudo-family he’d made outside of his home. Willow, Buffy, Cordelia, Giles, Jenny, Oz—to some extent, Angel—and Faith. His Scooby Gang, and the strong bond of attachment he felt towards them—specifically the hero that brought them all together. Thinking about them now, his heart raced at what he needed to do. Xander recalled Old Buffy asking him to try for her. Even young Buffy asked him to wait for her. But he would not do that anymore; he was no longer seeking validation from others.

  “Just be me,” he mumbled to himself. “The real me.”

  The mantra was so vague, Xander had no idea how he wouldn’t mess it up, but that was what he would think about everyday moving forward. ‘Just be me.’ Every time he encountered a decision, he’d think of himself, his morals, his ethics, his principles, and try to make the best decision that represented him. He expected many mistakes ahead of him, but he had faith he was like Buffy, Willow, Cordelia, and Giles.

  “So… maybe I’ll be alright,” he reassured himself.

  Rather than gather everyone in the library the day after Halloween, and explain what it meant to be Old Man Xander, the time looper prepared for his hard-earned trade as a weapons smith, his emancipation from his parents, his relations as a friend, and potential boyfriend to the girl he felt gelled best with him. Despite all the women he’d slept with, the list of girls that were special to him wasn’t long, but he smiled at the thought of growing old beside one. Xander was no longer afraid of desiring something amazing because he didn’t fear feeling hope. He was undaunted and would never let that go again.

  After Xander had spoken to Boston detectives about the pedophile teachers at Dearborn—Bronson & Mardyke—he began running. For hours, he ran up and down Sunnydale, nabbing the Du Lac Cross & the Glove of Myhnegon, buying and selling the scratch offs tickets, and buying the Powerball ticket along the way. In the next two days, the teenager secured work at Wild Dinks, purchased the junkyard 84 Suzuki, disassembled it, and ordered the parts he knew he’d need. He applied for a legal ID the morning before Ford entered their lives.

  Xander had seen the handsome teen from Buffy’s past so many times, he could identify the young man from his peripheral vision. He felt a familiar sense of jealousy, but he told himself, ‘Buffy and Willow aren’t using you. You don’t have to act on your jealousy so that they would understand you. You can speak your mind, no matter how mature your opinion, and they won’t think it’s weird. You got this. You got this. You got this. You got this.’

  The three were sitting in the lounge chairs, talking about Angel and Drusilla—though the girls didn’t know the woman Angel had spoken to was Dru—as well as the possibility of dancing at the Bronze when Ford came over.

  Xander practically mouthed along as the handsome teen said from behind Buffy, “I’d suggest a box of Oreos dunked in apple juice, but maybe she’s over that phase.”

  When Buffy gave Ford a big friendly hug, Xander reminded himself that he didn’t have to play the part of a jealous, friend-zoned boy. More to the point, he didn’t need to waste his time trying to act envious of other men because he couldn’t have what they had. He could now feel how much of a waste of time being there was, so he stood up and walked up to Ford.

  “Hi, I’m Xander,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Right.” Buffy sheepishly grinned as she introduced her best guy friend. “Ford, this is Xander, and that’s Willow. Guys, this is Ford- uh, Billy Fordham.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Willow said as Ford shook Xander’s hand.

  Xander turned to Willow and Buffy, and said, “I gotta talk to Oz about some music lessons, so I’ll see you in French.”

  “Wait,” Willow called before Xander could get too far. “Osbourne? He’s a senior. When did you start talking to him?”

  “I haven’t,” Xander casually replied. “But I’ve seen him play at the Bronze and I think it’s about time I got my jam on. Later!”

  Xander walked to class with an eye out for Oz, but his mind was focused on his Armor Wear. Now that Xander knew the celestial runes in his head were a gift from Cordelia, he was determined to use them to survive anything the time braid had in store for him, and to the benefit of his friends. Fortunately, Xander ran into Oz, and though the senior was taken aback by the junior’s casual approach, he kindly suggested starting with an acoustic guitar and a harmonica.

  At the Bronze later that night, Xander only half paid attention to the drama between Buffy, Ford, and Angel. He still made jokes, but not as a jealous teen threatened by another man’s relationship with Buffy, but to keep the tense meeting light and fun. The moment also offered Xander a window into the men Buffy allowed into her life and in her heart. Not unlike himself, he could objectively say she made bad choices in matters of the heart as well.

  ‘Or maybe there just aren’t truly good choices?’ he wondered. ‘They can seem great in the beginning, but after some time, those cute traits become annoying traits, which changes the entire dynamic of the relationship. Maybe you just have to do the best you can with the one you’re most compatible with?’

  Buffy was a Slayer who chose to love multiple vampires, and those relationships contained many toxic and abusive elements. She had many one-night stands in her future and her healthiest relationship was with Riley, which also soured in the end. Xander didn’t look at Buffy—standing awkwardly between Ford and Angel—as his greatest love anymore, or even with loathing hatred. She used to be the hero that he revered in comic books or TV shows. Now, she was simply a cute, crazy-strong, kickass girl, with just as many flaws as anyone else.

  ‘She’s firmly in the family category now,’ he thought, content to want nothing more than the very best platonic relationship with her.

  When Buffy and Ford left together, Cordelia approached the group, eying the handsome senior leaving with Buffy. She asked, “Who’s the tasty treat?”

  ‘Oh, I’ll give you a tasty treat,’ Xander thought as he answered, “Buffy’s oldest and dearest.”

  Angel asked Willow, “He just moved here?”

  Xander took the childish liberty of poking Angel by answering, “Yeah. And boy, does he move fast.” Angel turned to Xander, who freely smiled at the brooding vampire. The time looper may have matured, but he felt fine giving Angel a hard time. It was just his way of interacting with the vampire.

  Xander knew Angel would visit Willow later that night. However, he spent the rest of the night meticulously forging Odin’s ring, which still needed five days before the magical artifact would be ready. As he worked, he thought of the work ahead of him: finishing his scrambler motorcycle, forging Dreadnought, Hellguard, Slaymore, Ordermír, and Blood/Lust, on top of tailoring his Amour Wear. However, the ring was his first priority, and he worked throughout the night.

  The following day, Xander didn’t wait for Willow to reveal what she’d discovered about the suspicious Ford. He approached Buffy to speak in private just as school let out. Xander led her to the school’s weight room, practicing his harmonica along the way. Due to his highly tuned physical capability, Xander could relax his breathing for perfect pitch, but as a novice, he lacked the ear necessary to recognize notes by their tone. Recalling what he’d read in a beginner’s guide, he refrained from narrowing his cheeks to get the proper sound.

  As they walked into the weight room, a pleasantly surprised Buffy asked, “You’re actually doing that? I kinda thought you were joking.”

  “Nope,” he responded with a smirk. “Serious as a heart attack on your wedding night.”

  As Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head, Xander noted Cameron Walker, Gage, and a few of the more dedicated swim team members also working out. The teen nodded to the swim team captain, but of course was ignored. Instead, Cameron paid more attention to an oblivious Buffy.

  They went to the farthest bench for some privacy before Buffy asked, “So, what’d you want to talk about?”

  The raven-haired boy set his backpack beside the bench as he answered, “Ford.”

  Eying the room, she asked, “And we need to talk about Ford here?”

  “Just trying to get my workout in before I leave for work,” Xander answered.

  “Leave for work?” she asked with a single raised eyebrow. “As in a job? As in, a company that gives you money to punch-in and take an elevator down into the mines?”

  Xander snorted before asserting, “I think your concept of a job is a little behind the times, but in a nutshell, yeah. Papa’s gotta slave away to feed his family.”

  Buffy seemed surprised by the idea of his work and curiously asked, “Wait, so what are you doing?”

  Raising the horned hand sign for heavy metal rock 'n' roll, he replied, “I work at a heavy metal shop!” Buffy smiled at his antics as he added, “I’ll give you the details later, but as it turns out, I’m pretty good with my hands.”

  “‘Grade A’ hands. Nice,” she cheerfully replied. “I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks,” he said, setting down dumbbells on either side of the bench.

  “So, what’s this about Ford?”

  “Disclaimer: I know he’s an old friend,” he cautiously began.

  “Ugh, that’s a loaded disclaimer,” the alert girl remarked. “He’s an old friend, but…”

  “But I’m getting a bad feeling about him,” Xander admitted.

  She asked, “Are you?” as if unsurprised that he would have a problem with another boy in her life—as if it were typical.

  “Yeah. I don’t think he’s being honest with us.”

  “Us?” she repeated, looking at him with mild disappointment. “Uh, Xander, I don’t know where this is coming from, but even if you can’t trust him, you can trust me. And I’m telling you: Ford is a great guy. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “We live on the Hellmouth, Buffster,” he reminded her. “There’s always something to worry about.”

  “Well, not this time,” she asserted with finality. “He’s just a really good friend and I’m sure you’ll like him too… if you give him a chance. I promise.”

  As she turned to leave, Xander quickly said, “I’m just watching out for you.”

  The Slayer turned and reminded him, “And I’m grateful, but that’s not your job. It’s mine. I’m here to watch out for you and everyone else. I’m telling you, Ford is fine—it’s Slayer-approved. See you tomorrow.”

  As Xander watched the vexed girl leave the weight room, he accepted that she—along with everyone else—had a path to walk, whether good or bad. As much as he wanted to help the people he cared about, it was equally as important to take care of himself. His elevation to competency would be the difference between trying to be and simply being. This level of solace allowed Xander to feel sound-of-heart even if Buffy rejected his advice.

  Laying down on the bench, he mumbled the lyrics, “At first I was afraid—I was petrified. Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side. But then I spent so many nights… thinking how you did me wrong—And I grew strong. I learned how to get along!”

  Humming the tune in his head, Xander gripped the barbell, and dedicated himself to the grind. Of course, he could’ve waited until he forged his ring to enhance his strength, but showing Buffy and the swim team that he was working out would go a long way helping them accept his sudden feats of strength later on.

——

  As ever, Buffy and Angel handled Ford’s betrayal and subsequent escape from Spike’s ambush in the bomb shelter without much difficulty. Xander spent the rest of the week training, forging Odin’s ring, cleaning every part of his bike, practicing his guitar or harmonica, and convincing his parents to accept his conditions for the sixty million lottery ticket. He might have a new outlook on life, but he wasn’t dumb enough to ignore sixty million dollars. However, unlike previous loops, Xander added additional conditions to the deal.

  After admonishing his father for trying to physically take the ticket from Xander, his exasperated mother demanded, “What do you want?”

  “Not much,” Xander calmly answered. “You sign legal papers emancipating me, give me the house—fully paid for—and give me a million per year for the next five years. You’ll also have to leave Sunnydale without telling anyone you won the lotto. I mean no one: not family, friends, coworkers, drinking buddies, no one. Just leave.”

  Anthony couldn’t stand the disrespect and got in his son’s face, glaring at him as he threatened, “If you don’t give us that ticket-”

  “I’m not done,” Xander interrupted, unbothered by his father’s futile intimidation. “I also want you both to go to counseling—couples or individual. I don’t care which. Even if you have to do it over the phone, I want you both talking with a licensed professional.”

  “I’m not wasting my money on some shrink!” Anthony proclaimed with balled up fists.

  “Take the amount out of what you owe me,” Xander countered. “I don’t care if I have to pay for it. I’d even join the calls and talk to someone myself. I just…” Looking around the disgusting home, Xander asked with revulsion, “Aren’t you guys tired of living like this? This isn’t a lack of money. This is something else—something worse.”

  With flexed shoulders and clenched fists, Anthony yelled, “I don’t need some fucking quack making up psycho-babble to tell me I’m a nut case!”

  “Okay, that’s not, at all, what they do,” Xander clapped back. “But even if it is: tough! This is non-negotiable!” Holding the sixty million dollar ticket up in both hands—between his fingers—as if ready to tear it, he asserted, “If you really feel that sixty mill and a luxurious lifestyle isn’t worth talking to someone for an hour a week, I can tear this up right-”

  “Wait! Wait!” Anthony yelled, eager to rush his son, but holding off. “Wait.”

  Lowering his arms, Xander looked at his father with sympathetic pleading as he stated, “You’re just talking to someone, dad. It’s you and them, and no one else has to know. I don’t have to be in the convo nor does mom. You’re not even paying for it. So, what’s it going to be?”

  Xander didn’t have to remind them he had insurance if they reneged on the deal. He didn’t care about losing all that money nearly as much as they did.

  “Please, Tony,” Jessica pleaded, holding his arm. “After everything… we deserve this.”

  She looked at the father with just as much pleading. Before Cordelia’s show and tell, Xander would never have known what that look in her eyes meant. Now he knew how much they’d lost, sacrificed, and regretted ending up where they had—not that it was an excuse to treat their son as they had. However, he understood that their many regrets were likely why they drank every day. He knew they were running, just as he was running. They didn’t have a divine friend to help them uncover their trauma, but Xander was hopeful a therapist might help them.

  Anthony glared at his son and wife for several moments before huffing and stating, “I ain’t telling him shit!”

  “Stay in complete silence, then,” Xander replied. “Or talk about the game. Whatever you do or say will be between you and him.”

  The irate father finally grumbled, “…fine.”

  “One last thing,” Xander said, instantly irritating them.

  Jessica bemoaned, “What more do you want? My liver?”

  With his best Anthony Hopkins from Silence of the Lambs impression, Xander eerily said, “Now that you mention it, that would go great with some fava beans, and a nice chianti. Pftpftpft!”

  “Oh! Stop that!” Jessica groaned, smacking her childish son, who chuckled as he barely defended himself. “I swear to God, I wonder about you sometimes…”

  Xander simply smiled before continuing, “When you guys decide on a place to settle down, I want you to join AA.” His mother took a deep breath, ready to refuse, but Xander cut her off. “Before you fight me on this, it’s also non-negotiable.”

  After a moment of contemplative silence, a sly Anthony asked, “Just join?”

  Xander rolled his eyes, conscious of pushing too much too fast. He fully expected his parents not to take that last non-negotiable seriously and suffer through it simply for the money. However, Xander hoped that his parents would eventually realize their own mental and emotional damage so long as they remained exposed to a therapist and AA meetings. That was all he could buy for them with sixty million: just a chance.

  “Yes, dad,” Xander lamely answered, already envisioning his parents blowing it off. “As long as you go to the meetings, it counts.”

  “Deal,” Anthony returned with a half grin. “And don’t even think about adding anything else.”

  After the family signed the agreement, notarized and filed it with a lawyer, Xander handed his father the lottery ticket. Tony was in high spirits, practically skipping to the car to collect his winnings. In previous loops, Xander would’ve let them go and walked the other way, content to finally be rid of them. However, after everything he’d learned, he snatched his mother’s hand before he even realized it. She turned around, looking at him in confusion.

  Xander smiled before stating, “Uh, I want you to do something else for me.”

  “Jesus Christ,” she cursed in disbelief. “No! Haven’t we done enough?! You’ve already given us the ticket. Just stop! Let us live our lives.”

  “I just want you to call me,” Xander softly replied. Her brows drew in as he added, “When you’re out, traveling the world—doing whatever you want—I just want to hear from you; where you’re going; what you’re doing; if you’re eating right; having fun; sleeping well. All of that.”

  Looking at him with confusion in her squinted eyes, she asked, “Why? Do you know how much we’ve lost because we had you? No! You don’t! The last thing I want to do is call you and report every little thing we’re doing?!”

  Xander felt as if his beating heart was squeezing through his throat, rendering him mute for a moment. Ignoring the prickly sweat building in his armpits, his dry throat audibly swallowed as his mother walked away from him. However, rather than let her leave, Xander rushed ahead of her, cutting her off.

  He ignored Anthony’s honking to tell his mother, “This money will completely change our lives, but the one thing I really want to change is us. I want us to be like we used to—close—like when you’d take me to the park and watch me play on the swings.” Her eyebrows raised at that and he asked, “Didn’t you make me a promise when I was a boy? That you’d always be there for me? If we can’t talk once a week, fine. Once a month, then. I just want us to be the family we were always meant to be.”

  Jessica Harris was at a loss for words, and eyed her tall son with a hint of anguish, as if faintly recalling her past. She seemed flustered for a moment, then quickly shook her head and walked away. Xander imagined memories of the past were very painful for her to recall, but he hoped she’d remember her promise because he truly wanted to make amends. Maybe then she might tell him about his grandparents.

——

  Later that night, Xander, Buffy, and Giles found the Watcher’s old friend Philip, deceased, on campus. They then saw the demonic woman deform into a slimy blue liquid that seeped into the ground. As ever, Giles refused to answer Xander’s questions and ordered them to leave before the police arrived. Buffy gripped his arm and effortlessly dragged the teen away.

  When they were back in the hallway, walking toward the library, Buffy asked, “What’s going on with you? Giles said he’s got it, so let’s trust him.”

  Xander remained silent as they walked, but when they reached the library doors, he stopped and said, “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about this.”

  Buffy eyed him curiously, asking, “The dead body? It hasn’t even been a few minutes.”

  “You asked what was wrong with me,” he reminded her. “Do you want the answer?”

  Buffy’s shoulder slumped as she stated, “Xander, there’s nothing wrong with you. I only meant that Giles is taking care of it, so we don’t have to worry.”

  “No,” he responded, shaking his head. “There is something wrong with me.”

  Buffy eyed him closely, taken aback by his statement, and asserted with conviction, “Hey, no. I don’t know why you’d say that, but nothing about you is wrong. You’re a great guy and one of my best friends.”

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  “I don’t mean wrong as in evil or a mistake,” Xander clarified. “But I have been lacking. Again, do you want the answer?”

  Standing straighter, as if preparing herself, she replied, “I’m not going to agree, but fine. Tell me.”

  “We don’t have to go into too much detail, but let’s just say that my home life was less Brady Bunch and more Nightmare on Elm Street,” Xander began. “You might imagine, years of living in a bad way had me wanting things other people had that I didn’t—a clean house, parents that aren’t just putting up with you, a healthy example of love.”

  “I know you’ve had a tough home life-”

  “Just let me finish,” Xander asked, and Buffy slowly nodded. He continued, “With all the TV I’ve watched and comics I’ve read, I fantasized about heroes more times than I can count. At first, I wanted to be the hero—strong, fast, smart—but when it became obvious I didn’t have what it took for that, I dreamed a hero might save me. Then I met one—a real, true-life hero—and I latched on. I wanted to do everything for you, Buffy.”

  Growing uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Buffy avoided eye contact as she said, “Xander, I-”

  With a raised palm, Xander interrupted her by insisting, “Buffy, just let me finish.” She swallowed nervously and then nodded before he continued. “Any problem you had, I wanted to be the answer for. Any support you needed, I want to be that with a smile. I wanted to be your everything—the way you had become mine—because you were my hero and I loved you.”

  Buffy couldn’t quite maintain eye contact, but he didn’t mind, and continued, “When you rejected me this past summer, I began thinking long and hard about me, and you, and my entire way of thinking. On top of dressing like myself for Halloween, I think I’ve figured it out—the thing that’s ‘wrong’ with me.”

  Buffy focused on his every word as he patiently unburdened himself.

  He gazed into her greenish-blue eyes as he stated, “My parents were like a personal Hellmouth, but rather than fight them, I ran… and kept on running—every day. Then I met you and I latched on like my life depended on it. Not just because I wanted you to save me, but because I wanted you to change me. I wanted you to make me strong… so I could fight… and wouldn’t be forced to live with parents like that.”

  Xander took a moment to settle his erratic heart rhythm. In her silence, Buffy watched her friend expressing himself unlike ever before in growing concern. Clearing his throat, he continued, “Obviously, it doesn’t work like that, which, duh, right? Um, I needed to save myself, but I had zero confidence I could actually change anything. That weakness—that powerlessness—always made me angry, and standing next to you only made that worse with time. Could you believe every time you saved lives, I was both happy and mad? So, yeah, I was wrong.”

  “No,” Buffy disagreed. “Are you kidding me? You’re not powerless or weak! And how does someone with no confidence jump into a fight with no regard for themselves? Especially when you’re not even trained to fight! You’ve saved lives too, Xander! You saved my life after the Master killed me!”

  “I wasn’t going to let the only hero I’ve ever met die-”

  “Exactly!” she jumped in. “Because you do have the confidence—and the courage—to do the right thing—to change—no matter how dangerous. That’s amazing, Xander.”

  Though grateful, Xander shook his head, saying, “No, Buffy. I did that because I was terrified of what it meant if you died. I saved you because if I didn’t, I knew there’d be no chance for me,” Xander continued, making Buffy draw her brows in. “If there was no chance for you—a legit superhero—how could I ever hope to survive my life? My parents? Or be a good man? The only hero I’ve ever met… dying? The anger would’ve filled me with hate.”

  “But you are a good man, Xander!”

  “Maybe deep down, sure, which could be why I clung onto you so tightly—the good in me wanted to survive. But that doesn’t mean I was well-adjusted… or I wasn’t, anyway. I’m only now figuring out who I am,” he replied. “So, yeah, the thing that’s ‘wrong’ with me? It’s me no longer accepting the way I used to be—especially after Halloween.”

  “Okay, why do you keep mentioning Halloween?” she asked, quirking a brow.

  “I’ll tell you later,” he assured her. “That’s the reason I told you Ford was off. It wasn’t a jealousy thing. It was me watching your back because I love you, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, and that’s the kind of friend I want to be: reliable, competent.”

  Buffy exhaled a deep breath before admitting, “You are! I trust you with my life!”

  “Unless it’s about Ford?” he asked. “Slayer Seal of Approval, remember?”

  Shaking her head in regret, she admitted, “You’re right. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about Ford.” She took a step forward to take his hand, as she said, “But I do trust you-” However, Xander stepped back, out of reach, cutting her statement off.

  “I’m telling you now,” he continued, pointing behind him with his thumb. “What happened back there feels off too, but again, instead of giving me the benefit of the doubt, you’re brushing me off; asking what’s wrong with me for not just accepting the way things are. I’m done with the way things are, Buffy.”

  “Okay,” the flustered blonde returned. “Okay. I’m sorry I brushed you off—really—but it’s Giles. We know Giles. He’s not Ford. We know he’s on our side.”

  “I get that,” he agreed with a nod. “He’s kinda like that little tugboat that keeps the huge ocean liner from crashing into the dock and sinking… a little tweed tugboat with glasses.” He snorted at the funny mental image. Buffy must’ve envisioned it as well, since she smiled and nodded. Getting back on point, he continued, “But, what I’m saying is: just because he may not want your help, does that mean he won’t need it? I mean, can he really be mad at you for caring too much?”

  Buffy looked into his confident brown eyes for several moments, thinking to herself before finally stating, “O-Okay. I’ll talk to him later, while we’re staking out the blood delivery.”

  With a small, but content, smile, Xander nodded and left. Giles hadn’t shown up that night, and the following morning, Buffy asked her Watcher more questions than she had before. However, as ever, the embarrassed and ashamed Englishman refused to answer. They were eventually attacked by the possessed corpse of Philip. Buffy trapped it in the steel wire-mesh cage until it broke out, and fought the group.

  Rather than allow Jenny to become possessed—since the group hadn’t yet discovered how the demon jumped from host to host—Xander moved the only viable body for possession out of the way. It must’ve looked odd to everyone—Xander rushing to move Jenny’s unconscious body away from Philip’s melting corpse when he shouldn’t have cause to.

  “Smart man,” Ethan spoke from the floor. He grunted when Cordelia pressed her foot harder into his back. “All I mean is, the demon travels from corpse to corpse.”

  “Ms. Calendar isn’t dead,” Willow pointed out.

  “No, but why risk allowing it to enter her unconscious form?” the chaos practitioner asked. “If my dissolved friend had made contact with her, even a speck, I have little doubt it would’ve possessed her and continued its bloodthirsty ambitions.”

  Giles returned to the library as Jenny was coming to, and soon after, Ethan quickly pushed Cordelia off and ran away. Xander wanted Jenny to stay to make sure she hadn’t been possessed, but Giles insisted on taking her home. Having grown overly cautious due to repetitive looping, Xander sat on the opposite street outside Giles’ apartment, and to his mediocre surprise, a possessed Jenny left Giles’ apartment and headed for Ethan.

  With a sigh, he mumbled, “It must’ve been a speck of that goo, then.”

  Buffy eventually showed and insisted Giles tell her the entire truth. Soon, she was running out of the apartment to save Ethan. As ever before, Xander called the library, had Willow get Angel, and meet him at Ethan’s Costume Shoppe. In the backroom of the closed shop, Xander effortlessly beat Ethan away before he had a chance to tattoo the mark of Eyghon on Buffy’s neck.

  The proceeding order of events wasn’t any different than he had experienced before: Angel’s inner demon destroyed the Eyghon demon, and Jenny needed space from Giles. Xander visited the distraught teacher later that night, but only to cheer her up with a thousand-dollar scratcher.

  The very next day, the Scoobies met in the library, where Xander announced his goal of being the group’s weaponsmith. “Being an old man can teach you a few things, I don’t mind telling ya,” he joked, though they didn’t quite make the connection. They simply looked at him with confusion. The zany Zeppo then gave them the phone number to Wild Dinks in case they needed to reach him.

  Buffy looked at the piece of paper before noting, “You were serious about this? But you’re sixteen. How are they letting you work there?”

  “I worked out a deal with Pete,” Xander answered. “So, I’m making my weapon first, then I’ll make your weapon,” he listed, pointing at Buffy. “If anyone else wants one, it’ll have to be after that.”

  Smiling appreciatively, Giles informed the youth, “T-The council adequately supplies the Slayer with sufficient weapons, Xander. But the gesture is appreciated.”

  “Yeah, ditto,” Buffy cheerfully added. “I’m good on shiny stabby things for now, but, by all means, make yours. What are you thinking of making?” she eagerly asked.

  He answered with a wicked smile, “There could only be one: a battleaxe.”

  “Interesting,” Buffy hummed with a smile. “You’re going to need a lot of upper-body strength and counterweight to get the most out of that. The whole thing needs to be balanced, too, or your swing’ll be off. And if it’s off, you’ll have to compensate, which’ll only waste more energy.”

  Content to hear her talk about weapons, Xander readily asked, “Do you want to test anything I make? Make sure it passes the twenty-point Slayer inspection.”

  “I’d love to,” she returned with a smile.

——

  When Xander finally finished Odin’s ring—forged with even better patterning than before—he could feel how much more magical energy it housed as it healed all his aches from working out. He began using its recuperative power to help him become more flexible, agile, faster, and stronger, as he worked on his next project: Dreadnought.

  Properly forging his trusty weapon—especially with Cordelia’s celestial runes—used to take him a month of steady work. But by this point, he’d forged the construct so many times—each time slightly better than the last—it only took him two and a half weeks to finish. Sadly, his battleaxe was only ninety percent done by the time Kendra arrived.

  ‘Ah, Kendra,’ he thought. ‘To sleep with, or not to sleep with? That is the question.’

  Upon the gorgeous Jamaican’s arrival, his mind was plagued with that question, and repeating his mantra hadn’t helped him discover an answer he could feel at peace with. If he slept with her, wasn’t it just a selfish decision? Or could that event help Kendra challenge her world order? For days, he pondered the morality of it versus the desired outcome. He could feel the good and evil wolves within, eager to feed on his decision, but after enough time, he removed himself from the equation and thought solely of Kendra.

  She’d admitted to him on the beaches of Jamaica that their union had helped her. It was only after their night together that she began coming out of her shell. Kendra became better in many facets of her life because of their interaction—sexual or otherwise. And more than anything, had learned the full extent of her weakness in interacting with men. On the other hand, if he didn’t sleep with her, he wouldn’t have to lie to her.

  ‘Would she be okay that way?’ he thought, though the answer made him nervous.

  After much deliberation, he concluded that their night together had more benefits than disadvantages.

  “It’ll just be the one time,” he said to himself, more worried about whether she’ll live or die than getting his rocks off. After all, in his century of looping, he’d only ever saved her once.

  Xander and Kendra’s meeting, their dining, and their return to his house all went as it had before. With his parents gone, they had the house to themselves and Xander shattered any expectations Kendra had of her first time with a man. More than anything, Xander was simply thrilled that the loving experience was as far removed from the predatory sex Nox’d had with Buffy as possible. The experienced lover paid close attention to her wants, teased her needs, overpowered her when he knew it’d thrill her, and kept her in euphoric bliss for long spells of time. The exotic beauty was vibrating deliciously by the end and squeezed him dry for his efforts.

  The very next day, Xander and Cordelia were breaking into Buffy’s house. Xander saw his coupling with the abrasive girl not only as an act of love, but as a necessity at this point. Being with him kept her out of more danger than when she was alone. He was pleasantly surprised when the new hope coursing through his veins made kissing Cordelia feel nearly like their first time. Their lips locked with an equal mix of passion, desperation, and pleasant surprise. After their abrupt kiss, Xander devised the plan of escape, and did so safely.

  He officially met Kendra in the library—to everyone’s surprise—and Xander couldn’t help quipping, “Maybe I’m a Slayer magnet,” with a knowing smirk.

  Xander fetched Ms. Calendar to help the gang research, then made a show of picking books at random that turned out to be just what they needed. After the Scoobies rescued Angel from Spike and Drusilla, Xander talked to Kendra in private as she helped him retrieve the fake cross he’d made. He said everything she needed to hear to aid her in recognizing areas of vulnerability.

  “I hope we meet again,” he confessed. “Except, without the high stakes. Maybe for fun? If you liked being with me, I mean. You kinda left right afterward, so I thought you didn’t have a good time-”

  “N-No, I- I- I… I did. V-very much,” the nervous girl admitted, with a heavy blush traveling up her neck and face. “B-But I cannot experience such p-pleasures again, sir. It wo-would be too...”

  “If you’re going to say selfish, that’s completely wrong,” he asserted. “After everything you and Buffy do for all of us, you deserve a little joy or happiness for yourself—more than a little, actually. There’s a balance, Kendra. And yeah, you always have to be careful with who you trust. But you still deserve good things in your life. And you’ll never convince me otherwise.”

  She nodded her appreciation for his words and they said goodbye for the moment.

  Xander finished Dreadnought by the following day and had everyone gather in the library for the grand unveiling. With a showman’s flare, Xander opened the custom case he’d made, and pulled out his gorgeous two-handed battle axe with the longer tooth on one side, a blunt butt on the other, golden inlaid runes, and steel braces from the glove of Myhnegon. The blade made a slight slicing noise when it moved quickly, as if slicing the air in half. Everyone was instantly astounded by the professional-looking weapon, in addition to the boy that made it.

  “Xander!” Willow exclaimed, leaning in closer to inspect Dreadnought. “Did you really make this?”

  “It’s gorgeous,” Buffy exclaimed with clear amazement in her greenish-blue eyes.

  “Um, y-yes, quite impressive,” Giles mumbled, focusing on the golden-inlaid runes and feather pattern.

  “Really, though,” Willow gasped, asking, “You made this?”

  “Sure did,” he answered them with a cheerful smile. “It took me nearly all month.”

  Cordelia’s voice cut in over the rest as she asked, “Why make an axe when all you do is wait for Buffy to save you? And did you even think about the logistics? Lugging around something that heavy is only going to make you easier to catch. Then, death.”

  Happy for the banter, Xander contently replied, “As ever, Cordelia, your concern is as touching as a cold sore.” Cordelia rolled her eyes before Xander added, “For your information, I’m going to be fighting more from now on.”

  Stunned by his claim, Buffy peeled her gaze from the majesty of Dreadnought and said, “Uh, Xander, this is a gorgeous weapon, like, really—I may borrow it, like, all the time—but maybe leave the slaying to me? I really appreciate your wanting to help, though! Gold star for going above and beyond!”

  “Eh!” Willow cutely pouted. “I want a gold star too.”

  Xander assured his blonde friend, “I’m not going to get in the way, Buffy. Don’t worry. You’re still the Slayer. I’m just going to help.”

  “Help slow her down,” Cordelia quipped. Xander walked over to Cordelia with the axe in hand. Buffy raised her eyebrows, likely wondering if Xander would actually get violent with her. Instead of violence, however, to everyone’s growing curiosity, Xander extended Dreadnought to the gorgeous cheerleader. Even Cordelia wasn’t sure why he was giving her his weapon, but she took it in her hands, dropping slightly under the unexpected weight.

  Xander walked to the other side of the library as he explained to the room, “I get that you’re all worried—especially you Cordelia.”

  “As if-”

  “BUT,” he cut her off. “I’m asking you guys, as my friends, to trust me on this. I know I can handle it. I was ‘Old Me’ for Halloween, after all.”

  As he stopped ten yards away, a snarky Cordelia asked, “So, you want to be feeble and useless in youth as well?”

  Xander turned to her and shook his head at her with clear worry, sadly mouthing, “So worried…”

  “I’m not-”

  Xander cut her off again to address the Slayer, “Buffy knows what dressing up in those costumes means.”

  Looking around first, she asked him, “I do?”

  Xander smiled before extending his hand, summoning his gorgeous battleaxe, and Dreadnought flew from Cordelia’s grip straight to his grasp with extreme haste, shocking everyone yet again.

  “Xander!” Willow joyously bellowed with wide eyes.

  “My word,” Giles voiced, quickly cleaning his glasses.

  “How’d you do that?!” a stunned Buffy exclaimed.

  Looking at the other witnesses with fearful dubiousness, a confounded Cordelia asked, “The axe just flew, right? I didn’t imagine that? The axe flew.”

  Xander cleared his throat before teasingly asking Cordelia, “What was that about, ‘feeble and useless?’”

  Eying her best friend in disbelief, Willow gasped, “How did you… that was magic! Since when have you been able to wield magic?”

  “I can’t,” he shared with her and everyone, quickly confusing them. “The axe is magical, not me—but it’s bonded to me, so it lends me its abilities.”

  Willow quickly questioned, “Like Mjölnir is to Thor?”

  “Exactly like,” Xander gladly answered her.

  “This is truly remarkable,” Giles voiced, inspecting every inch of the weapon. “A magical weapon hasn’t been created in decades, possibly centuries—that we know of, of course.” He focused on Xander to ask, “How were you able to accomplish such an undertaking?”

  Slanting his head in humored exasperation, he answered them, “I already told you guys. Does no one get what being ‘Old Me’ for Halloween means?” They all look at each other, not quite grasping his train of thought. “Buffy, you remember everything about that Duchess you became, right?”

  With a grossed-out expression, like drinking rotten milk, Buffy groaned, “Ugh, I actively try to repress those memories… and she was actually a Lady in Waiting hoping to marry a Duke, which then would’ve made her a Duchess.” Looking at Willow, she lamented, “I hate that I know that.”

  “I don’t,” a stunned Willow reassured her. “I think that’s really impressive.”

  With a curious brow, Giles reasoned aloud, “So, you’ve also retained the memories of the costume you inhabited? An old man.”

  “Not just any old man,” Xander clarified, smirking at them as he added, “I became the older version of myself, which you guys happily made fun of.”

  It dawned on Giles and Willow the fastest. However, the redhead was the one to yell with wide eyes, “Which means you have the memories of your entire life!”

  “Gold star for Willow,” Xander brightly replied.

  “My word,” Giles gasped.

  “That means you know things that’ll happen!!” an excited Willow gasped.

  Xander shook his head as he began to say, “Well, I don’t-”

  “Oh, my God,” Buffy groaned in realization, drawing their attention. “It’s going to be such a relief to see the bad guys coming waaay before they get here!”

  Again, they interrupted Xander as he began to explain, “Actually, I won’t-”

  “Oh! Can you tell us how we’ll do on our SATs?” Willow eagerly asked. “Or what university we enter?!”

  “Uh...”

  Cordelia curiously asked, “What companies should I invest in?”

  “We mustn’t get carried away,” Giles told the youths, urging them to settle down. The Watcher then asked, “Xander, what can you tell us about these older memories?”

  “Not much,” he bluntly stated.

  “…Come again?” Giles asked.

  With a cute huff, an irked Cordelia asked, “Wait, do you or don’t you know what companies will be uber successful?”

  “I turned into an eighty-year-old version of myself,” Xander reminded them again. “How easy is it for an eighty-year-old to remember the day-to-day of their sixteen-year-old life? I do have a lot of memories of stuff that’ll happen in the future, but they’re mostly from our twenties and up; or big, significant moments, and-” He raised Dreadnought as he added, “The skills I’ve developed over the years, including being a weaponsmith.”

  “Then, do you remember us? Like, in the future?” Buffy asked. “Or… Wait. We’re not dead, are we? Because if we are, I don’t want to know!”

  “But if he doesn’t tell us, isn’t that like telling us, anyway?” a worried Willow pointed out.

  “Okay, okay,” Xander called out, waving his hand. “I can’t tell you everything because I don’t remember everything clearly.”

  “Are you senile?” Cordelia asked.

  With slumped shoulders, he retorted, “I’m eighty, Cor! Or he’s eighty!” Eying everyone, he explained, “I remember plenty—just, not a lot about the teen years. It’s sorta like asking you to remember what you did on a random Tuesday when you were four years old. If it’s about our twenties, I recall plenty more of that.”

  Giles remarked, “Attempting to recall anything with perfect clarity over sixty-four years ago would be a challenge for anyone, I imagine.”

  “So, we do live to see our twenties?” Cordelia asked, with a heightened sense of curiosity.

  “It’s more than that,” Xander asserted. Nodding toward the blonde, he added, “Just like Lady Buffy here, I don’t care to remember everything.”

  “Why not?” Willow asked.

  Setting Dreadnought in the hardcover case, he answered, “Because if we get complacent just because we’re confident we’ll survive some big bad or whatever, that’s a sure way of getting careless, and dying! Or getting someone killed. That’s basically my worst nightmare right now—like, I keep thinking you guys might die because of something I said. So, I just don’t want to.”

  “Xander has a valid point,” a pensive Giles said, growing concerned about the responsibility of such information. “We mustn’t underestimate the treachery of overconfidence—no matter how reliable the source—and must remain vigilant. One mistake could lead to catastrophic demise.”

  Xander nodded before stating, “I’m doing the stuff that, as it turns out, I’m actually good at, and that’s pretty much all I need from Old Me.” Sitting next to Cordelia, he added, “If you guys want to know personal things about yourselves, I don’t mind answering—if I remember—but honestly, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  Leaning back against the seat, a sultry Cordelia asked, “So, about those stock tips…”

  Xander snorted and smiled, thinking about how he could always count on Cordelia’s Cordelia-ness. He then answered, “Even if you knew which companies will be big twenty years from now, you’re still going to have to wait.”

  Stepping forward, Willow asked, “Is there anything you can tell us that might help us now?”

  Scratching his chin, Xander replied, “Mmnn, I can say that even when we get knocked down, which will happen—way more than we’d like—we never quit. No matter how strong the enemy is, or when things don’t go our way—or when we fight each other—we always do everything we can to save a life, or the world. Always.”

  Willow smiled proudly, stating, “That’s actually nice to hear.”

  “Makes me want to go slay something,” Buffy remarked, sitting straighter.

  Patting the black case housing his axe, Xander informed the blonde, “Expect a really sweet Christmas or birthday present. Depends on how fast I can finish it.”

  “Uuuuggh,” Buffy groaned, slouching as she returned, “Don’t you know patience is the death of a Slayer?!”

  “A strength, is what I think you meant to say,” Giles corrected his blonde ward. He turned to Xander and curiously asked, “W-Would a rapier be out of the question?”

  “Whaaa? Weren’t you fine with the ‘Made In Watchers’ stuff?” Xander happily teased the adult. “I’m just messing with you. They take a while to forge, and I have to make Kendra’s after Buffy’s, so it’ll be a few months.”

  “Of course, of course,” the Watcher quickly replied, trying to hide a grin.

  An excitable Willow leaned closer and eagerly begged to know, “How do you make them magical? Tell me everything!”

  “By being the opposite of a magical person,” he sadly told her.

  He then explained the process of a non-magical person creating the home for all sorts of magical energies to reside in, then hoping these energies chose to live in the vessel he created. They were interrupted when Cordelia begged to know which companies would grow big, and he gave her a list off the top of his head. None of which she recognized.

  With a quirked brow, she asked him, “What the hell is Net… flix? Amazon? Like the jungle?”

  He quickly answered her questions about the companies before answering more of their questions. Fortunately, much of Xander’s future information was too far down the road to be of any real use at the moment. Additionally, there were other questions he couldn’t answer because it wasn’t first-hand experience for him. However, there were some questions he wouldn’t answer or lied by omission about.

  When a bashful Buffy slyly asked, “Do you know anything about Angel?”

  He closely observed the slight blush in her cheeks and the hope in her unique eyes. He imagined she was hoping to hear good news: a marriage, a big house, a white picket fence, and a dog. Xander immediately felt the good side of him hit with a hard choice to make, and didn’t like his options because any of them could turn out terribly for the ones he loved. He either told them about Angel and how his curse was broken, or he let Buffy experience that pain.

  The experienced time looper wasn’t worried about the innocent lives Angelus murdered since he recalled all the victims and where they were attacked. Xander knew he could prevent those deaths, leaving only one real question… should he allow Buffy to suffer? He then recalled Old Buffy’s words.

  ‘Sadly, sixteen-year-old me has never experienced the pain I’ve gone through—the loss I’ve suffered. Losing Angel like that, mom dying, me dying, being ripped out of heaven, the depression, then self-medicating using Spike… it all shaped me into the person I am now. I can’t even picture a life without all that grief and heartache.’

  “Hello? Earth to Xander?” Buffy asked, waving her hand.

  The Slayer was still looking at him, waiting for an answer, but he didn’t have one. He could tell that she—along with the others—was growing concerned and worried what his answer might be. However, he would not be rushed, and trusted his friends would understand. He put up a finger and continued trying to think of the best course of action.

  ‘No,’ he thought. ‘Buffy might be asking about Angel, but this was about more than her.’ He asked himself, ‘Are you going to stop Oz from being bitten? Tell Willow she’s actually a lesbian? Warn Giles of Jenny’s true identity and her potential death? Warn Cordelia about her father’s tax evasion? Warn Debbie that her boyfriend was going to kill her? Warn the swim team their coach will turn them into monster fish? Are you going to stop every bad thing that you know is going to happen to someone in this town? Because Buffy shouldn’t be any more special than Willow, Oz, Giles, Cordelia, or anyone else. So, if you prevent her moments of suffering, shouldn’t you prevent it for everyone else as well?’

  Xander didn’t think he could do that. It would just be too much. And how could he not lose himself in all of that. Thus he answered Buffy, “Angel doesn’t always have it easy, but he’s a good guy and his friends always watch out for him.”

  “…That’s it?” Buffy asked with raised eyebrows, as if she was disappointed he wouldn’t reveal more.

  “Yeah,” Xander stoically replied. He could see Buffy question it, but repeated his mantra. ‘Just be me. Just be me. Just be me. The real me.’

  He decided to say nothing of Angelus. Buffy had her path to walk—as they all did—and he shouldn’t interfere solely due to knowledge he wouldn’t have had if not for the constant looping. In his mind, he told himself he’d be there for them through it all and save as many of them at the exact moment. That was his responsibility and he wouldn’t want his friends fixating on the bad.

  ‘I’ll tell them everything if I get out,’ he mentally vowed. With his friends around him, he sternly added, ‘When I get out. I promise.’