Charged Moments
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As December was a slow season for vampire slaying, Xander felt he was being considerate to his friends by picking the slow season to fight all the monsters eager to feed on the innocent. However, Buffy and Giles were annoyingly more concerned about his well-being. They had no idea how much experience and training he’d gained throughout his long lifetime of looping. The Slayer and Watcher were oblivious to his time troubles, and simply wanted nothing bad to happen to him, trying as they might to talk him out of slaying.
The Scoobies had gathered in the library after school—Buffy to finish homework; Willow to practice her magic with Giles and Jenny; and Cordelia because she knew they all wanted to talk to Xander. He should’ve been on his way to Wild Dinks to continue forging Hellguard, but his friends asked him to stay for a bit. They sat him at the end of the long table while the rest of the gang sat on the side of him, making him feel like he was the subject of an intervention.
Giles warned, “Despite your many contributions to the fight against evil, Xander, what you’re asking for is orders of magnitude more dire.”
“I just want to patrol,” Xander said as if it were nothing.
“Alone!” Buffy pointed out, eying him in disbelief, as if he wasn’t taking it seriously. “You want to patrol on your own with monsters that can rip you apart!”
“I’ll make sure not to leave behind my super-duper magical axe,” Xander emphasized, trying not to smile too broadly. Considering everything he could do, he found it funny that they’d be so worried about him. He simply needed a chance to prove he could handle it.
Cleaning his glasses, Giles gravely stated, “You can have crosses, holy water, and the sharpest stakes—even with every conceivable protection—everything can go terribly wrong in the blink of an eye. You won’t have the strength of a Slayer to rely on.”
“I know-” he tried to say when Buffy interrupted.
“What about us?” the Slayer asked, pointing between Willow and herself. “Do you know how worried we’d be… if the worst happened?”
Xander noticed the concern on all of their faces—Willow, in particular, remained silent because she wanted to be supportive, but her large expressive eyes were clearly worried. Even Cordelia seemed oddly silent and conflicted. Unfortunately for all of them, Xander could no longer keep quiet just to comfort them. He’d learned from his celestial therapy session that he lost himself in others far too easily. Like Higher Being Cordelia had told him; he needed to be himself. So, in consideration of himself and his friends, Xander asked to spar with Buffy—in the library—before going out into the field.
The blonde beauty hopped on the idea and quickly stipulated, “If I win, you leave the Slaying to me.”
Xander shook his head—rejecting the bet—and countered with, “How about this: if you win, I get to keep trying until I beat you? Then when I do, I slay with your blessing.” Xander stood up, towering over the seated Buffy, and leaned down—looking deeply into her greenish-blue eyes—as he emphasized, “But if I win, I go out… right now.”
It was such a power move, Buffy’s mouth opened slightly, stunned he’d be so bold. So confident in herself, Buffy stood up as well, playfully glaring at him as she extended her hand in agreement. They shook and she squeezed his hand hard. His expression hadn’t faltered, and Xander was thankful he had his ring to ease the ache afterward.
After school the following day, the Scoobies met in the library once again and the long table and chairs were removed to put out the blue mats. Willow, Jenny, and Cordelia were on the elevated section, leaning against the railing as they looked down onto the sparring area. Willow and Jenny seemed worried for Xander, Cordelia seemed eager for the action, and Giles was at the bottom, officiating the match between the fighters.
Upon Giles’ gesture, Xander and Buffy took the middle of the blue padded mats. They were dressed in their red & gray P.E. clothes, but Giles insisted Xander wear elbow pads, knee pads, and use a mouthpiece. Otherwise, he wouldn’t allow him to spar with the supernaturally strong Slayer.
With supreme confidence in herself and the bout’s outcome, Buffy was the epitome of relaxed, but Xander didn’t mind. He understood that the Xander in her mind—in all of their minds—wasn’t the one measuring the distance between himself and Buffy or recalling her fighting style. Buffy was the most creative fighter of the Slayers he had fought, but she had her tells as well.
With a hint of a smile, an amused Buffy asked, “You sure you want to do this? You might regret it later.”
“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” he maintained, returning her slight smile. “I trained- er, Old Me trained loads of people.”
Old Man Xander may have led missions when he was in charge of operations for the Slayer Organization, as well as sparred often with multiple slayers, but he hadn’t taught much. The organization had much better instructors to teach their forces. The Old Man and his experiences were simply the best cover for the unprecedented skill level Xander would, no doubt, have had to explain to his friends.
Giles warned his paranormally strong charge, “Even still, Buffy: minimal strength.”
“Right-o!” she called with a cutesy salute, and Xander tried not to feel insulted.
As soon as Giles called the match to begin, Xander was in his element. His century of fighting the best, had honed his body’s technique to maneuver with such proficiency, his attack speed and power were amplified. It was why, when he lowered his center of gravity and took two measured steps forward, before launching a spear-like straight punch, Buffy barely dodged… as he expected. The Slayer may not have been expecting his level of skill, but her reflexes were still otherworldly.
The strike Xander truly intended was the foot pivot into a side-body shot she couldn’t dodge after evading his straight punch. Buffy looked at him in surprise, but Xander immediately followed with a punch to her face. The shock of being struck phased the durable Slayer far more than the actual hit did. Xander could see it in her wide eyes: her blood was boiling. Buffy’s competitive spirit had come alive and was unwilling to abide by such a transgression.
Growing nervous at the sight of his Slayer, Giles tried to halt the spar, calling, “B-Buffy-”
However, she went after Xander, and he didn’t mind one bit. Buffy was certainly stronger and faster than Xander, but he was patient and clever. He knew her style and could anticipate and counter her strikes and steps effortlessly. The fighters had a quick exchange of high and low punches, blocked by either side. Xander wasn’t sure what his punches felt like to her, but his arms felt like they were blocking hits from a rolled-up magazine—the thick kind.
‘That’s minimal strength?!’ Xander’s mind yelled, utilizing his ring to heal himself as he fought.
As ever, realizing that he had the reach advantage, Buffy immediately switched to leg strikes. Her technique, flexibility, and agility allowed her to quickly strike low, mid, and high with the same leg. Xander dodged, blocked, and dodged into a spinning kick to her midsection, making her grunt as she fell back. Hitting the ground, she rolled onto her feet, stunned by his combat IQ.
His eyes said, ‘That’s right. The student has become the master.’
However, her heart was pumping—hot blood coursing through her—and Buffy couldn’t take the loss. The durable Slayer used more speed to move in close and fight him at the body. Due to her stature, Buffy often had to fight larger opponents at the body level. She knew where to punch to hurt her foes and slow them down—but Xander knew that as well.
At close range, her every strike was caught and redirected, and with his footwork, he could force her to flip or put her in a series of submission holds. Xander was certain she’d eventually use brute strength to break his every hold, but not quickly enough. He twisted his midsection, evading a punch to the liver and grabbing her hand to twist her into a flip. However, she landed on her feet, grabbed his hand & leg, and pulled, countering his flip with one of her own, and sending him to the mat.
Xander hit the cushioned floor, but he hadn’t let her arm go, and put her in an arm bar. When she broke out of that, he fluidly put her in a guillotine. Buffy had the strength to break out of that as well, but he easily switched to her back and put her in a rear naked choke hold. Wrapping his legs around her waist, she finally tapped out.
Buffy slapped the mat after they separated, frustrated—not because she lacked in strength—but because she wasn’t sure how to counter him. Xander imagined the experience was like trying to hold water in her hand. Getting up with hunched shoulders, an irate Buffy ordered her watcher, “again,” as she dropped her stance and raised her fists for the second round. Giles stepped in the middle to stop the heated blonde.
“Before that,” he rebutted, holding up a quieting hand. He turned to the teen boy and asked, “Xander, wha-what was that?”
Xander casually answered, “A mix of CQC, Silat, jiu-jitsu, Krav Maga, and Muay Thai.” At their frozen faces of disbelief, he repeated, “I told you, Old Me trained a lot of people for missions and stuff.” Their surprised faces morphed into a hesitance to accept. “Guys, I- Old Me never stopped fighting all the creepy crawlies that go bump in the night; we’re talking decades here. How long did you expect me to just wing it every time we were out there? Obviously, I had to learn how to fight, or I’d die.”
Buffy walked up to him—suspiciously calmer—and something in Xander’s head told him she was going to punch him.
“Fine,” she said with a tight smile. “December can be your trial period. You do well against the real thing, you got the coveted Slayer Seal of Approval.”
Though wary, he replied, “Sweet.”
“Oh, and Xander?”
Xander grabbed the incoming punch and flipped her onto her back before putting her in an arm bar. Even if it felt as if he was trying to bend a steel bar, he could keep her in the submission for three seconds before it seemed like she was going to toss him. He let her go and they both rolled away before getting to their feet.
With a cheeky smile, Xander remarked, “You’re way stronger than me, Buff, but you still weigh an easily flippable 120 pounds.”
Despite looking torn between ashamed and angry, she corrected him. “116.”
“Wow, Xander,” Willow gasped from their elevated vantage point. Suddenly self-reflective, the redhead recognized, “I feel like I’ve been saying ‘Wow, Xander,’ a lot lately. But, yeah, that was amazing.” At Buffy’s annoyed look, an uneasy Willow quickly added, “Uh, but mmn, not, like, super amazing.”
“Quite impressive,” Giles mentioned, irrespective of Buffy’s mounting frustration.
With some disappointment, Cordelia pointed out, “I was expecting you to get creamed, but beating up a girl doesn’t feel like something to be proud of either.”
Leveling a heavy helping of incredulity on the beautiful cheerleader, Xander emphasized, “She’s superhuman, Cor! That was like Jimmy Olsen kicking Wonder Woman’s ass.”
“Hey!” Buffy whined in protest. “Wonder Woman was taking it easy on Jimmy, so Jimmy should really watch what he says.”
In consideration of her competitive spirit, Xander playfully zipped his mouth closed and threw away the key. She observed him pull off the velcro straps of his pads and casually tossed them to Giles before leaving for work. They agreed on a meeting time for his first night out slaying, and he went about his day with more anticipation than he was expecting. Having patrolled more times than he could count, he shouldn’t have felt so excited, but he did.
As he suited up in his Nox gear—black tactical trousers and hooded jacket, an athletic compression long-sleeve shirt, and a black & gray camo scarf—he credited his optimistic outlook to everything he’d been through. All the mistakes he wasn’t smart enough—or aware enough—to avoid had already been made. Now that he knew himself—without fear that he’d ruin everything—he felt confident in everything he did, as if he knew only good things were ahead, even if there was still plenty of bad around.
Xander hooked Dreadnought on his bike and raced to Restfield Cemetery. Utilizing his ring’s power to enhance his nighttime vision to near perfection, he walked through the forested area of the cemetery without tripping, and after a while, he saw Buffy. She was wearing blue jeans, a white tank top, and a burgundy leather jacket. Upon spotting Xander in his stealth gear, Buffy was a mix between impressed and humored.
“Are we infiltrating Count Chocula’s castle, Commander Harris?” she playfully asked. “And here I am without my grappling hook.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” Xander sarcastically replied. “We should all be so lucky if all slaying ended with chocolaty treats.”
Buffy snorted and her smile died away when she noticed the glow of his eyes—not the whitish-blue glow he used when he was Nox. The luminescence emanating from his brown eyes gave off a golden orange light that Buffy found charming.
“Aww, that looks so pretty,” she expressed.
Before Xander could reply, Angel appeared like a shadow that wouldn’t recede. To limit what Angelus would know later, Xander would’ve preferred if Angel hadn’t joined them, but as he was Buffy’s boyfriend, he didn’t have a choice. Xander remained professional and amiable. His only goal for the night was to prove to his friends that they didn’t need to worry about him when he went out at night, so he focused on slaying. With Dreadnought, Odin’s ring, and his decades of experience, he took care of the few vampires they came across by himself.
Three nights passed like this—Buffy and Angel watching Xander killing vampires from nearby. As the three were entering their sixth cemetery on the fourth night, Buffy couldn’t help remarking, “I can’t say I mind the free time to do other things.”
Her loving gaze landed on Angel with a knowing smile, making Xander very much want to yell, ‘I’m not risking my life here so you can have more time to suck face!’
Though the desire was there, Xander had learned the hard way that such an attitude wouldn’t solve anything. In truth, it would only stunt his growth in the long run, which would then hurt those he loved. If he was ever going to be a man worthy of building a much more meaningful life, Xander needed to be above it all, so he walked away from the affectionate couple and continued patrolling—whether they paid attention to him or not.
Later in the night, Xander was in the middle of a hard scuffle with a pair of very large and experienced vampires. With their similar features, Xander assumed they were brothers—white, tall, brunet, with broad shoulders. Unlike many previous vampires, these two seemed to embrace the concept of ‘Never Underestimate the Opponent,’ and used strategy from the beginning.
The shorter vamp would fight Xander head-on in a series of quick combinations, keeping a careful distance while the taller one tried to flank Xander’s blindside. As Xander used his battleaxe to block the high-speed combination attacks, he’d have to worry about his second opponent moving behind him, and attacking when he was most distracted.
‘Were these guys military, or what?’ Xander’s mind yelled as he dodged a series of attacks from both of them. He also wondered why he’d never fought them before. ‘Maybe they were created by a vampire either me or Buffy might’ve killed?’
Xander had been on the defensive since the beginning of the fight, swinging his battleaxe in intricate trajectories to keep them at bay. The vampires attacked at full speed and Xander could barely keep up with the four limbs striking from either side of him. It was only after he took a hard punch to the face—blurring his vision—did Xander allow himself to flow with the momentum and kick one in the chin as he attempted to slash the second.
However, the second vampire gripped the neck of Dreadnought—and since Xander was holding it as well, the soulless demon didn’t drop. Xander felt powerful hands grip his shoulders and an ominous presence behind him intent on sinking its fangs into his neck. Before Xander could be bitten, he began healing himself as he activated Dreadnought’s electricity, frying his opponents along with himself.
For three agonizingly long seconds, every cell and nerve ending in Xander’s body felt like they were being stabbed repeatedly and set ablaze. After the three count, the twitching vampires lost all motor functions and let the teen go, dropping to the ground. Though Xander twitched and felt like his muscles were baked to a crisp, his magical weapon and ring healed him fast enough to decapitate both vampires before they could get back up. When Xander leaned against a tombstone to rest, his spinning vision saw four rotating Buffys rushing toward him in a panic.
“Xander!” the anxious blonde yelled, and soon, her hands were on his face, neck, and chest as she frantically looked over his bleeding wounds. She was like a worried hen while Angel stood behind her. “What the hell were you thinking disappearing like that?! You could’ve been killed!”
Still slightly dizzy from the sledgehammer-like punch to the face, Xander tried to assure her, saying, “Uh, y-yeah, n-no. I-I-I-It’s alright, Buffy. I’m good. I’m good.”
“No, you’re not good!” she clapped back. Touching his wounded face, she insisted, “You’re obviously hurt!”
As his ring finally restored reasonable control to his speech and movement, he focused on his worried friend and tried to sound normal as he replied, “I’m a little banged up, but there’s nothing to worry about. I’m already healing.”
Shaking her head, Buffy asserted with finality, “No, no, I don’t think this is a good idea. This is just too dangerous.”
“Buffy, relax,” he said, standing on his own again. “Look, I’m fine. I can do my happy dance if you want.”
Eying him sternly with a mixture of frustration and worry, she hesitated to ask, “Can’t you just… not do this? For me? Please?”
Shaking his head, he easily answered, “Sorry, but that’s a big fat no-go on that, Ghost Rider. This is me now. More me than I’ve ever been. And I won’t ever go back.”
Slumping her shoulders as if baffled, she argued, “Can’t you see I’ll always worry something’s going to happen to you? I’ll have to babysit you every night to make sure-”
“Whoa, hey, babysit? Really?” the stunned boy quickly interjected. “What’s this really about, Buffy? Because you can’t possibly think I’m that much of a liability after kicking your ass and dusting vampires on my own while you two were tongue-slaying each other’s tonsils.”
Mildly embarrassed, the blushing blonde tried to deny it. “We weren’t-”
“Smooch-city?” He cut her off, asking with raised eyebrows, “Really?” Pointing toward Angel’s face, he added, “Your boyfriend still has lip gloss on his face.”
Though stoic in stature, Angel rotated his head, as if to look around, and tried to discreetly wipe the shiny gloss from around his lips with his shoulder. He wasn’t successful.
Buffy cleared her throat—eager to move past the awkwardness—and begged to know, “Xander, why do you want to do this?”
Looking at her as if it should be obvious, the far-more enlightened time looper asked, “Is being destined to fight the forces of evil a prerequisite to slaying?” Buffy blinked in mild surprise, having not expected the question. “Is it so hard to believe non-destined people want to help because they can, and not because they have to? More to the point, is it so terrible that I want to be more than what I was? I’m doing this because I have a responsibility to the people I care about—and just as important—a responsibility to myself.”
Grasping for any point of contention, an anxious Buffy hesitated to ask, “Well… can you not?”
Xander rolled his eyes before returning, “Can you not be the Slayer?”
“That’s different and you know it.”
“You had less of a choice, no doubt,” he readily admitted. “But if you value choice so much, you need to respect that this is mine, and no one’s going to change that.”
Xander walked off as Buffy yelled, “You’ll live longer!”
Over his shoulder, he called back, “We all die sometime.”
For the rest of December, the tension between the friends was frosty, leaving Willow in the middle playing peacemaker. Xander and Willow were talking by his locker, between classes.
“She just wants you to stay safe,” Willow argued on Buffy’s behalf one afternoon.
“I get that,” Xander replied, closing his locker. “But unless she’s letting me make decisions for her life, I’m not letting her make decisions for mine. I gotta get to work. Later.”
Xander had more free time to work, and afterward, he’d often patrol alone at night. Oddly enough, he found himself running into Buffy or Angel more times than he expected. There were twelve cemeteries in Sunnydale, a bustling nightlife, and a college campus not far away, yet they ran into him so much he wondered if they were keeping an eye on him.
‘Yup, they definitely are,’ he thought with certainty after his enhanced nose picked up Buffy’s lavender-scented body wash. He was watching him from a quarter mile away, which was mildly insulting—if babysitting was, in fact, what she were doing—but it also showed that she cared, and he was content to focus on the silver lining.
Xander didn’t know why, but eventually, he found himself enjoying the audience. He’d gone so long—through so many loops—hiding his abilities from his friends. He was even a shadow incarnate by the name of Nox. Now, he felt the glow of sunlight wash over him. Xander was free to express himself—regardless of how that might risk his friendships—which led to unexpected joy and a peculiar decision to dance.
For some reason, knowing that Buffy might be watching made him dance as he fought vampires, specifically the choreography of Michael Jackson’s Thriller. He’d mix dance moves of the popular song into the fights: raising his rigid hands like a monster creeping around at night as he stomped to the imaginary beat or moonwalking away from a series of punches before kicking, spinning, and grabbing his package. One time, a vampire felt the power of Thriller and did the creepy strut with Xander, which was mind-boggling—though the teen still dusted him in the end.
At school the following day, Buffy saw Xander walking down the opposite end of the hall and she couldn’t help but burst into laughter—likely imagining the dancing. Xander smiled broadly and bowed to his adoring audience and the iciness between them had melted. They were great after that.
——
Xander’s secret relationship with Cordelia was going well, but he still tried to convince her that a genuine relationship would be better than sneaking around to make out. The lovers were in her bedroom and her parents were gone, the maid having left for the day. Sitting next to each other on her bed and fully clothed, Xander had decided not to have sex without being boyfriend and girlfriend. However, Cordelia was content to have the best of both worlds: her title as the most popular girl in school, as well as a secret relationship with a geek that stimulated her passion. She might also have been hesitant to start anything because of what he’d revealed about their future.
“I’m telling you,” he argued, frustration coloring his voice. “There’s only one guy better than me for you, and he’s not around-” ‘In the daytime,’ he thought as he finished, “So we might as well just date.”
With equal frustration, Cordelia reasoned, “Just because you say that doesn’t make it true!”
Xander leaned in and, with a wicked smile, remarked, “Sounds like you want proof.”
The teen boy lowered his face between her soft legs. From the stain on her satin panties, he could tell she was already wet. Slowly, he shimmied her panties off before he kissed and massaged her inner thighs. Cordelia moaned when he began sucking on her damp sex, his scratchy tongue slithering inside her leaking mound.
“OOh! Mnnn,” he heard her moan, gripping his broad shoulders.
He slipped his tongue past her gleaming labia petals and licked her sensitive walls. His hands massaged her ass and clit as he sloppily dined on her love tunnel. After many moments, her legs tensed as Cordelia was struck by an intense orgasm, making her body quiver and toss as she held his head in place. Xander lapped up her gushing honey until the heaving girl finally settled down.
He sustained her euphoria and made her melt one last time before asking her, “How was that?”
“Yessss! Mmmore pleasssse!” Though she didn’t agree to be his girlfriend, Xander obliged and brought her to several quaking orgasms before she left with her parents for Christmas vacation in Vegas.
Spending the holidays mostly by himself, Xander kept busy forging—Hellguard and Slaymore—patrolling the sudden uptick in vampire activity, practicing his guitar, and repairing his house. Xander and Cordelia had sex for the first time on his birthday in January—to her very vocal and repeated delight—and not long after that, Buffy and Angel consummated their relationship, unleashing Angelus upon the world, yet again.
Xander wasn’t far away when they did the deed, preventing the woman that died in previous loops from walking down that alley, thus preventing her death. He also trailed the vampire with Dreadnought in hand to prevent anyone else’s death. After Angelus revealed himself the following day, Buffy needed to be alone, and Giles and Willow asked Xander about the evil vampire.
The time looper was forced to answer, “Uh, Old Me doesn’t remember this.”
“B-But you said Angel doesn’t always have it easy,” Willow reminded him with her near-perfect recall. “Is this what you meant?”
Xander shook his head, but couldn’t voice the lie. Instead, he leaned into the age thing and replied, “Sorry guys. Old Me just doesn’t remember the younger years.”
Thoughtfully, Giles asked, “Could you have altered something the moment you gained knowledge of the future?”
“I don’t know,” Xander repeated, clearly disappointing them—either from the lack of answers or because he, as himself, wasn’t helpful.
‘Just be you,’ he reminded himself. ‘It’s okay. You’ll tell them the truth, eventually.’
Willow shook her head, and rephrased, “He means… Okay, you can fight now, you have a magical axe, and you can build stuff like your motorcycle. All of that had to have happened later on in his/your life, right? So, doing all of that much earlier might’ve triggered a change somewhere that we couldn’t anticipate.”
“Like an alternate timeline?” Xander asked, though he knew the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
“Exactly,” Willow answered.
“Regardless, we must now deal with the return of Angelus,” Giles sternly intoned before walking to the stack of books.
Xander got the subtle impression they were blaming him for Angelus’ return, which, in a way, wasn’t a lie. He certainly could have warned them about the curse and credited the source to Old Man Xander. However, the time braid had already shown him that Angelus could still return even without consummating his relationship with Buffy. Xander would’ve likely been forced to kill or kidnap Drusilla to prevent that, which would likely send Spike down a drastic path of revenge. It would all be unpredictable, and if the wrong person died, Xander would automatically reset.
‘This way is easier,’ Xander thought, even if he hated lying to his friends. ‘As long as I save the people Angelus usually kills, we should be good.’
Giles, Willow, Cordelia, and Jenny redoubled their efforts in researching how to defeat the Judge. Buffy’s Slayer visions revealed Jenny’s true identity, and while the irate blonde confronted Janna of the Kalderash in the main room of the library, Xander was in Giles’ office, calling the motel room the Romani man always stayed in.
As Buffy, Giles, and Jenny argued outside, Xander warned Enyos, “Angelus is on his way to kill you. If you want to live, you need to leave Sunnydale. Now.” Uncle Enyos didn’t believe him. Recalling the man’s odd eccentricities, Xander stated, “The moment the sun sets, it won’t just be any vampire coming after you. It’ll be one of the strongest in the western seaboard.”
“And how do you know this?” the ghoulish-looking man asked in his thick Romani accent.
“Common sense,” Xander answered. “The first thing Angelus is going to do is get some revenge on the people that cursed him. That’s you and Janna. If you don’t want that to happen, you need to leave town, or come here and let us protect you, because he won’t stop until you’re dead.”
“I do not fear death, boy,” Enyos replied. “Vengeance is not a word, nor an idea. You modern children treat it like commerce—one thing for another. Not for us. Vengeance is a living thing, moving through generations. It demands his pain be eternal, even if I must forfeit my life to carry out its will.”
Xander rolled his eyes at this display of devout insanity before heatedly returning, “Then let us carry it out. I promise you we can. You don’t need to die needlessly. But if you stay in this town, he will find you, and he will kill you. So what’s it going to be? Leaving while the sun is still up, or letting us protect you?”
Enyos hung up.
“You stubborn old bastard,” Xander grumbled before calling once again, but the Romani Elder wouldn’t pick up. Eventually, he couldn’t hear a signal at all, meaning he had unplugged the phone from the wall. Xander sighed in annoyance before looking out of the office. Giles and Buffy had finished kicking Jenny out of the group and the beautiful teacher was leaving the library. The sun was still out, meaning he had enough time to race to the motel and save Jenny’s stubborn uncle.
Xander walked out of the office and absentmindedly mentioned to everyone, “I’m going to check if she’s alright,” before exiting the library.
After hopping on his bike, Xander raced to the motel and broke into the room the old man was typically murdered in, but the old man wasn’t there. An hour after sunset, neither Enyos nor Angelus had shown up. Xander was growing more nervous with every minute, envisioning Angelus getting lucky—spotting Enyos elsewhere—and killing him. After another half-hour, Xander left the room and rushed to Jenny’s apartment. When he saw the emergency vehicles and flashing red and blue police lights outside of her building, he knew the worst had happened.
“Fuck,” Xander cursed, feeling the pain of his stomach-churning failure.
Rushing to the yellow tape, he saw a distraught Jenny inside an ambulance, crying beside a filled body bag.
“Fuck,” he cursed again, feeling great sympathy for her.
As Jenny was surrounded by police, Xander felt confident she would be safe for the night, and after making a mental note to visit her later, he raced back to school. Walking into the library, Willow was the only one who cared enough to walk up to him and quietly ask how Ms. Calendar was. Oz and Cordelia looked up to hear his response while Buffy and Giles continued reading.
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Irked by their cold attitude, Xander loudly stated, “How nice of you to ask!” Buffy, Giles, Cordelia, and Oz looked at him as he added, “She’s upset, actually! But safe! For now, anyway.”
Xander hoped his stern eyes and the passive-aggressive jab conveyed how much he disagreed with their treatment of Jenny. Seemingly still upset over her own loss, Buffy slammed shut the book in front of her and stalked from the library. Xander understood more than anyone how much her mental and emotional state dictated her actions since he had been the same way. So, he couldn’t completely criticize her, but he wouldn’t stand by and say nothing.
Giles was the biggest disappointment. He was older than the seventeen-year-old Slayer—more intelligent, mature, and easily the wisest of them. Xander understood how much the Englishman loved Jenny and certainly must’ve felt betrayed—possibly used—by her, but for him to condone kicking her out because she kept her origin and purpose a secret seemed impulsive and unfair. Despite Xander’s frustration with his friends, the Scoobies still had the Judge to take care of, and thus he conveyed his idea for defeating the blue demon.
That night, Xander and Cordelia took her car to the army base and broke into the armory. They took what he needed and returned to the gang to meet the Judge in the mall. Unlike previous loops, Xander hadn’t given Buffy Slaymore, nor had he planned on being the one to use the M72 LAW shoulder rocket launcher on the Judge. He gave the birthday girl the honor of shouldering the anti-tank weapon and blowing the blue demon to bloody bits. Xander enjoyed his M16A4, shooting plenty of vicious vampires who came too close to them or civilians.
After the explosive warhead met with the Judge, erupting in smoke, fire, and body parts, Buffy impassively jested, “Best present ever.”
“Thought you’d like it,” Xander remarked, lowering his rifle. “Shame they didn’t have your color.”
Looking over at the destroyed balcony and the plume of smoke setting off the sprinklers, Buffy spotted Angelus escaping and ordered her friends, “You guys pick up the pieces. Keep ‘em separated.”
As Buffy chased after Angelus, Cordelia bemoaned, “Pieces? As in body parts? Our job sucks!”
Rather than stay with his friends to collect smoking blue chunks of the Judge, Xander snuck away and followed Buffy. Turning a corner, he spotted the Slayer fighting with Angelus under the shower of the fire sprinklers. After Angelus blocked her one-two punch and countered with a backhand to the face, Xander could tell this was a psychological battle, and that Buffy was losing.
“You know what the worst part was?” Angelus asked the Slayer. “Pretending I loved you.” He punched her in the face once again, knocking her to the floor before happily stating, “If I’d known how easily you’d give it up, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
Buffy got to her feet, and Xander could tell she was trying to ignore his words, but she simply couldn’t. The vampire lived in her head as much as her heart. Buffy blitzed, attacking with a mid-kick. His block was useless, however, as she rotated her foot’s trajectory to strike his knee, dropping him low enough to elbow him in the chin.
Angelus fell back as Buffy said, “That doesn’t work anymore. You’re not Angel.”
The sinister vampire seemed overjoyed at her defiance and massaged his jaw before claiming, “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He walked calmly around the Slayer as water rained down on them. Xander watched as the vampire said, “Doesn’t matter. The important thing is, you made me the man I am today.”
Buffy charged again, and Xander could see the impatience in it.
‘Calm down, Buffy,’ he thought as he watched them battle, though the blonde received the worst of the vicious blows. Their back and forth quickly ended when Angelus punched Buffy hard, sending her through the glass counter behind her. She rolled over in pain before Angelus grabbed her jacket’s collar and dragged her through the sharp glass.
“You’re not quitting on me already, are you? Come on, Buffy. Show me how much you want it,” he leered.
To Xander’s surprise, Buffy used one of his jiu-jitsu moves, kicking off the wet floor into a spin, forcing him to bend forward as she kicked his knee. When he hit the ground, she mounted him and wailed on his face with her fists. Xander could see the agony and despair in her punches and imagined they weren’t as powerful as they would have been if she were calmer. The more Angelus laughed, the weaker she seemed to become, until she pulled out a stake from her back.
Xander’s butthole puckered the instant he thought she would kill Angelus, but then she stalled. Buffy couldn’t kill him. Her hand trembled, making Angelus laugh even more before punching her and kicking her off him. The Slayer sluggishly rolled onto her feet but was slow to get up and face the nightmarish monster wearing the face of the man she loved. Then Angelus punched her, sending her back several steps.
An aggravatingly charming smile crossed Angelus’ face as he said, “You can’t do it. You can’t kill me.”
Despite the pain in her conflicted expression—possibly tears camouflaged by rain—Buffy threw her stake at him. He easily dodged it, but the opening allowed her to kick him between his legs with all the strength in her super-powered leg. Xander winced as Angelus instantly dropped to his knees, mouth open, and in such extreme agony he couldn’t even scream.
“Just give me time,” Buffy hoarsely whispered before walking away.
Joining her as they walked back to their friends, Xander remarked, “Slayer-kick to the balls… you definitely inverted something. He’s going to be pissing out of his ass for a week.”
Buffy wasn’t in the mood for humor and simply replied, “I thought I said to pick up chunks of the Smurf reject.”
“And miss that beautiful kick? No way,” he answered. At her stern yet saddened expression, he asked, “You okay?”
Buffy huffed and, after a moment of hesitation, answered, “I… wish I knew.”
Xander simply nodded sympathetically, and the pair returned to help their friends.
Later that night, Xander visited Jenny. She opened the door, and instantly his nose was bombarded with the familiar smell of alcohol. The unbalanced woman leaned against the door frame with a drink in hand and smelled like a distillery. She couldn’t be bothered with a glass, and was drinking whiskey straight from the bottle—most of which was gone.
Jenny must’ve been drinking for hours, as it took her a moment to recognize him. She smiled at him before dragging him into her apartment. She lost her balance pulling him in and he had to wrap his arm around her waist to keep them from falling. Holding her up with ease made her laugh, and she wrapped her free hand around his neck.
Unconcerned with her ability to stand, she asked with a heavy slur of her words, “Pleease tell me you brought annnother tha-thousand scratcher?”
“Ms. Calendar,” he tried as he closed the door with a kick.
He struggled to move her to the couch in her living room as she jabbered, “Cuuz tha would really really cheer me’up right now.”
Xander had come by to make sure she was alright, but ended up taking care of her until she passed out. Before leaving the slumbering woman, he left her a note next to some aspirin and a glass of water. Rather than call him the following morning, she went to his house later that afternoon. She was suffering from the worst hangover she’d ever had, but explained that she couldn’t apologize and thank him over the phone. Xander invited the beautiful teacher inside.
His home was much now that it was February. All the trash, clutter, and old carpets had been thrown out. Xander had mended and restored the furniture that he wanted to keep, and repainted the interior. The hallway Jenny entered now had a wood flooring with dark gray walls—with a Star Wars Poster on it—and a white ceiling. The living room they entered had midnight blue walls with white corner accents, wood flooring, and a dark oak leather couch. All the pictures had white frames. The light entering the space warmed the room, and the bookcase was filled with comics and fantasy books.
They ended up in his kitchen, and Jenny was just as impressed with the room as she was with the others. The cabinets, countertops, and table were dark wood, the walls were gray, and the floor was a light gray tile. The appliances looked old but were cleaned and redone to give them an industrial feel. The impressed teacher looked around the room as Xander prepared some tea for her and hot chocolate for himself.
Pulling out a seat, Jenny sat down as she expressed, “Xander, I am so, so, sorry you had to see me like that.”
“It’s okay,” he said, leaning against the black and steel stove. “You were having a bad one. Happens to all of us.”
“Nevertheless, I’m your teacher,” she asserted, eying the teen earnestly. “You should never be exposed to that type of behavior from an adult who’s supposed to be a beacon of guidance and responsibility.”
He smiled as he jested, “If it makes you feel better, I have most of the memories of my eighty-year-old self, so, in a way, I’m older than you.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better at all and I’m still sorry,” she returned, shaking her head.
“I said it’s fine.”
When the water was boiling, Xander poured the hot water into two mugs. He mixed two tablespoons of cocoa mix into his and dipped two tea bags in hers before covering it. He set their drinks down on the kitchen table, and she nodded in gratitude.
The sexy gypsy looked nervous as she blew on her steaming beverage before hesitantly asking, “Did I do anything… weird?”
He instantly knew what she was asking, but thought to enjoy himself a little. Xander quirked his brow as he repeated, “Weird?”
Jenny cleared her throat, then nodded before specifying, “Anything I shouldn’t have?”
Xander shrugged, replying, “Just typical drunk stuff.”
“Yeah, but, ahem, nothing inappropriate, right?”
The teen looked at her seriously as he stated, “I didn’t take advantage of you, if that’s what-”
“No! No, I- I know that,” she quickly assured him, setting the hot mug down and putting a hand up. “It’s just… I can get a little… affectionate when I’m drunk.”
Playing acting in realization, Xander moaned, “Oooh! Well, yeah, I guess you were a little touchy-feely. And that’s definitely the first time a teacher’s kissed me.” Jenny clapped her face with both hands and groaned in renewed shame, making Xander laugh on the inside. She hadn’t actually tried to kiss him, but he just couldn’t help teasing her. “Nothing serious happened,” he assured her. “Also, the kiss tasted like vomit, so don’t think, like, I enjoyed it or anything.”
“Please, stop,” she begged, hiding her face from sheer embarrassment. “Just… don’t say anymore.”
Restraining the urge to smile, Xander moved closer to her to explain, “Ms. Calendar, I came by to make sure you were okay.” Jenny turned to him as he added, “Your uncle died and the gang seriously dropped the ball in the sympathy department. Nobody’s perfect. You’re allowed to lose your head a little.”
When she was seconds from breaking down, he moved his chair beside hers and hugged her. Jenny held him back and sobbed into his shoulder, mourning her loss. Xander knew she just needed a break, and let her cry it out until their drinks had gotten cold. After pulling back, they looked into each other’s eyes and Xander saw that line of intimate possibilities spark between them. In her state, he easily felt they could take comfort and pleasure in each other—even if it was only once—but he refused to cross that boundary again. Xander pulled away and gave her a grand smile instead. Jenny smiled back and looked a mixture of grateful, aroused, and embarrassed.
The teenage boy moved his chair away and drank some of his now tepid chocolate. Jenny took a sip of tea as he explained, “You know, besides making sure you were okay, I went by your place last night because I wanted to tell you something else.”
Setting down her mug, she asked, “What’s that?”
“My older self doesn’t remember everything about this time, but one thing he does remember was Angel living in LA.”
“Fantastic,” she huffed in disbelief. “He moves his shop of horrors to the City of Angels?”
“No, not Angelus,” Xander corrected. “Angel. Angel moves to LA.”
Turning to him as her hungover brain picked up the train of thought, she asked, “Are you saying he can turn back?”
With a casual nod, he answered, “If these memories are right, then yeah.”
“Have you told-” Jenny stopped herself to think a moment before rephrasing her question. “Does Giles not want to see me? Is that why he asked you to tell me?”
“He doesn’t know I went to see you,” he answered. “Neither does Buffy.”
“Then-”
“I wanted to tell you first because your people were the ones that originally cursed him,” he said. “So, if there’s anyone that could figure out how to bring Angel back, I’m sure it’s you.”
Jenny looked at him, touched by his confidence in her. It gave her the courage to ask, “Aren’t you curious to know about my past? My people?”
Xander shook his head, stating, “I don’t need your autobiography. We’ve fought enough monsters together for me to know you’re a good person.”
With a smiling huff, Jenny cheerily remarked, “You’re a really nice guy, Xander.”
“Hopefully not too nice,” he joked. “They’re cursed for all eternity to finish last with the ladies.”
Leaning in, she insisted, “Only the smart ones will see how great of a catch you are.”
As they finished their drinks, Jenny asked about the decor, having never seen such professional and stylish work done. They made small talk about his house until they finished their drinks and she excused herself, thanking him before leaving. As she drove away, Xander was certain she was going to start decoding the re-ensouling ritual the second she was home, not just for herself, but likely for her uncle and clan, as well.
The following day, Xander came by Buffy’s house with a long black case in hand. After ringing the doorbell, Joyce let him in, whom he greeted warmly. As the beautiful mother called for her daughter, Xander noted the squeaky front door and offered to fix it for her.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” she graciously assured him.
“It’s fine, Mrs. S,” he replied, swiveling the door back and forth to locate the source of the squeaking. “I fix stuff around the house all the time. I’m pretty used to it.”
As she watched him observe the top hinge, she asked, “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” he answered. “It’s better than paying a handyman a hundred bucks for ten minutes’ worth of work.”
Taken aback by his offer, she gratefully answered, “Well… okay. That would be a big help, actually. Thank you, Xander.”
They heard Buffy come down the stairs, and she looked miserable, as if all the warmth in the world had disappeared. At the sad state of the beautiful girl, Xander remarked, “That right there is one sad puppy.”
“I’ll bring you both some lemonade,” Joyce offered before leaving.
“Hey,” the disheartened girl greeted.
Xander could empathize, and returned a small smile before stating, “So, I made a mistake.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” Buffy somberly commented. “Come on,” she said, waving him up.
She turned, and he followed her upstairs to her room. Buffy was throwing away empty Kleenix boxes and balled-up tissues as he walked in. The curtains were closed and if not for the lamp on her nightstand, the room would’ve been dark. It reminded him of when he’d had his heart broken—by her—and he’d stayed in his room for loops on end. Ignoring the depressive scene, Xander set his black case on her desk.
“I won’t stay long,” he said, unlocking the case’s clasps. “I just came to make up for my awful choice of birthday presents.”
“I got to shoot a bazooka,” she told him as she eyed the black case. She offhandedly added, “Pretty much the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”
Xander turned and smiled as he said, “Well, I want to give you something a little more lifelong than ‘push button, make boom.’” Xander stepped back and extended his hand, insinuating that she open it. Though glum, the pretty blonde focused on the hardcover case as she walked over. With little delay, she opened it to see Slaymore within.
The weaponsmith felt proud when he noted the Slayer’s stunned face. The moment Buffy picked up her sword, he turned away, expecting the brilliant light to brighten her dark room. Buffy shielded her eyes from the sword’s intense luminance as it bonded with her.
After the light disappeared, Xander said, “Sorry. Forgot to warn you.”
However, she hadn’t truly heard him. Buffy unsheathed Slaymore and held up the gorgeous double-edged sword. Its overall length was 40 inches, 32 inches of which was a razor-sharp edge of pattern-welded blade. Xander had used copper in the folding to produce the star pattern in the black steel and had etched the celestial runes for ‘Exalted Power: Holy Warrior.’ The guard and pommel were made of a zinc alloy with silver and gold plating from the Du Lac Cross and the Glove of Myhnegon. Though Buffy was downcast over losing Angel, she seemed genuinely surprised by the God-tier weapon.
“Buffy, meet Slaymore,” Xander introduced. “It works a lot like my axe.”
With raised eyebrows, she asked, “Lightning included?”
“Sorry, no lightning,” he replied with a wince. “But Slaymore is way better at killing vampires than Dreadnought.”
“Really?”
Nodding, he claimed, “Like holy water, a cross, and a stake somehow made a beautiful killer baby together.” She was looking at the weapon forlornly, and Xander knew she was thinking of Angel. “Here,” he said before taking the sword and moving to the other end of the room. “Call Slaymore to you, and really mean it; like wanting a best friend when times are tough.” Buffy took a moment to clear her thoughts, extended her hand, and Slaymore flew straight into her grasp, as it always had. “You’ve made another BFF, Buff.”
“Thanks, Xander,” she solemnly expressed. Looking from the sword to her friend, she added, “I love it. I know it doesn’t sound like it right now, but I really do.”
Xander walked over and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her with comforting warmth as he said, “It’s okay, Buffy. I know you’re in a world of hurt right now, and I hate that this is happening to you.” Buffy hugged him back as he added, “But you have people on your side who love you and will always be here for you. Bonus: Slaymore can kill just about anything that tries coming after you.” Buffy snorted at that. “Giles and I can handle slaying. Take all the time you need.”
“Thanks, Xander,” she murmured against his chest.
They pulled back enough to stare into each other’s eyes, and though he recognized a charged moment between them, he understood himself better and knew that it wasn’t appropriate. She was grieving, hurting like her ribs were broken and every breath hurt—but more importantly, he loved her like a cherished friend and cared more about her emotional state than anything else. Xander’s fingertips teasingly caressed the tip of her nose in a downward motion, startling her out of her funk.
He backed away before promising, “See you tomorrow.” Grabbing the case, he stopped at the door, turning to suggest, “And give Willow a call. She’s the undisputed champ of helping people feel better.”
“I will,” she gratefully replied. Before he left, she called, “And Xander? You’re not so bad yourself.”
With a smirk and a wink, he replied, “Obviously,” making Buffy grin and shake her head after he left.
——
The night before a full moon, Xander was patrolling with Cordelia rather than doing other things with her in her bed. He was dressed in his Nox gear and his eyes glowed with an orange-brown color. He finally had Hellguard at his lower back and Dreadnought was in his hand. Cordelia was dressed in black jeans, boots, and a lilac dress shirt under a black trench coat tied at her waist. She’d have looked incredibly sexy if the outfit didn’t remind him of something Angel might wear.
Though Giles and Willow were also patrolling, the group had split up into pairs. Xander and Cordelia had been arguing about their relationship’s status. Xander was reaching his breaking point, and Cordelia couldn’t seem to understand that.
With some frustration, Xander asked, “Dinner and a movie with me is too much, but patrolling the cemetery for the undead to kill is fine?”
From behind him, Cordelia asked, “What’s your point?”
Xander stopped walking and turned to her, stating, “It’s been two months already.” Cordelia seemed irritated by the topic as he added, “We’ve done a lot of the physical stuff, but none of the romantic stuff.”
“Why do you keep bringing that up?” she demanded. “Why can’t you be like a normal guy and enjoy sex with the hottest girl in school, no strings attached?”
“Because you deserve better than that, Cor!” he exclaimed. She crossed her arms as he added, “And I do, too! I want to take you out to dinner and a movie. I want to show you where I work. I want to hold hands, be your Valentine, cook for you, make you feel special & loved, and do all of that boyfriend stuff. I don’t want to hold back because we’re in public or keep lying to my friends because you don’t want anyone to know.”
“Why?” she hurled back. “What’s the point of being a couple when we’re just going to break up?”
“See?!” he yelled. “This is exactly why I don’t tell you guys what goes down in our twenties and thirties, because then it becomes this standard by which you base all your current decisions on. If I hadn’t told you about us, we’d be dating—in public—right now.”
“But you did! You did tell me!” she hotly contested. The riled-up girl yelled back, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I don’t want to break up with you when it’s so obvious how much it’ll hurt!”
Xander settled down to hear her admit that. Of course she’d want to avoid unnecessary heartache, but it meant more that she’d love him so much, she’d rather not start anything for fear of life after such a union. Cordelia must’ve realized what she said and looked away, taking a step back. Xander grabbed her hand and pulled her in, taking her other hand as he gazed into her eyes.
“Yeah, it’ll suck for a while—I get that,” he admitted. “I’m not looking forward to that either, but I’m still going to love you and be there for you, even if we’re not a couple anymore. We’ll still be Xander & Cordelia. Just… with less nudity.” His hands cupped her cheeks as he once again proposed, “Come on. Let’s do the romance stuff. Let’s be a couple.”
Even in the moonlight, her cheeks blushed as she mumbled, “I can’t believe you’d rather be my boyfriend when I’m completely onboard with just a sex friend. You have to be the weirdest boy ever.”
“Weird for you,” he replied, already feeling her answer, even if she didn’t say it.
He leaned down and kissed her. Cordelia happily returned the kiss when they heard a twig snap. They broke away before spotting Willow fifteen feet away. Her eyes and mouth were wide open in disbelief, and pain was etched on her face. The only thing that interrupted that incredibly awkward moment was a distant howl echoing across the night sky. Xander knew what that meant, and, adding to his unease, Willow chose that moment to run away. With a frustrated groan, Xander took Cordelia’s hand and ran after his best friend. Only when they ran into Giles did Xander leave Cordelia with him and enhanced his speed to catch up to Willow.
Once he caught up to the redhead, he grabbed her hand, stopping her as he called out, “Come on, Will!”
The upset redhead pulled her hand away, whirling on him as she yelled, “I knew it! I knew it! Well, not ‘knew it’ in the sense of having the slightest idea, but I knew there was something I didn’t know. You two were fighting way too much. It’s not natural.”
Rather than staying out in the open cemetery, Xander picked Willow up and started walking back toward Giles and Cordelia. Fortunately, they weren’t far.
“Let go of me,” she yelled as she pushed at his strong shoulder and arm.
As he noted Giles and Cordelia running toward them, Xander lamely admitted, “Look, I know it’s weird.”
“Weird?” Willow repeated, eying him as if he were crazy. “It’s against all the laws of God and man! That’s Cordelia! Remember? From the ‘We Hate Cordelia Club?!’”
Walking toward them, Cordelia asked with more surprise than hurt, “You had a haters club for me?”
Sitting up as best she could in Xander’s arms, Willow proclaimed, “Of which he was treasurer!”
“Can we not do this-” Xander tried, but was tired of her squirming and gently set her down. “Willow! Look, I was gonna tell you.”
Stunned, the hurt girl returned, “Gee, what stopped you? Could it be shame?”
“All right! I get it!” he asserted. “Can we please focus on the werewolf right now? There’ll be plenty of time for you to yell at me later.”
“Werewolf?” Giles repeated with growing concern.
“Yeah,” Xander answered. “Did you not hear that howling? Werewolf. Sounds like it was coming from Make Out Lane. I’m going to go ahead-”
“How convenient!” Willow heatedly interjected.
“We’ll talk later,” Xander emphatically stated, assuring her with stern eyes. “Right now, I want everyone to stick together and try not to get bit.”
Xander ran to his bike and raced to Make Out Lane, running red lights and speeding off-road to the popular make-out spot. The werewolf was where it typically hunted, and he got there just as it was clawing and peeling metal off the roof of a car to get at the terrified meals within. Xander raced toward the beast and just as it opened a big enough hole to stick its head in to satisfy its hunger, he stabbed it in the leg with a wooden dagger, easily getting its attention. Xander skidded to a stop a safe distance away and revved his motorcycle, glaring at the supernatural predator while giving the beast a new target to hunt. The feral beast pulled out the wooden knife and roared at the teenage nuisance before hopping off the car and giving chase.
Xander spun his tires, kicking up chunks of earth before darting off and away from the innocent civilians. The werewolf chased after him, and Xander stayed close enough to be too tantalizing of a meal to pass up. When the raven-haired teen was confident they were far enough away, he slid the bike to a stop and leaped off in one fluid motion. Extending his hand, Dreadnought flew off of the bike and into his hand. Spinning it so that he was leading his attacks with the blunt butt of the battleaxe, Xander was prepared to fight the paranormal beast without killing him all night if he had to.
The running beast lunged at him, leading with its dangerously sharp claws and following with its large maw full of sharp teeth. Enhancing his speed, strength, agility, and endurance for maximum performance, Xander raised his battleaxe and braced for impact. Like an unstoppable force smashing into an immovable object, Xander’s feet cratered the earth as he was moved back several feet, but he had the strength to hold firm as the werewolf’s claws and fangs caught the ends and middle of his three-foot weapon. With his incredibly heightened strength, Xander held it back as it tried to chomp on his head.
“Sorry, Oz,” he groaned as he suddenly pulled in, landing on the dirt back-first and kicking the beast in the stomach, sending it flying with the momentum. Xander had let go of Dreadnought as it was flung and before it could toss his weapon aside, he sent thousands of volts of electricity into the feral beast.
The werewolf was stunned for several seconds before Xander ceased the shock attack and called Dreadnought back. The beast was steaming and disoriented and twitchy when Xander made his followup attack. He hit the werewolf with the blunt end of his battleaxe, which kept it from recovering. For the next several hours, Xander had it on the run, but, eventually, it regained enough of its senses to attack him.
It must’ve realized the dangers his axe caused and avoided it as often as possible. The werewolf used its longer reach to swipe at him, and Xander could block or avoid most of them. However, the claws were always close enough to rip his jacket to ribbons, making him wish he had his armor-wear.
‘It’s on the list after Ordermír,’ he thought.
For another few hours, Xander chased the beast, avoiding its series of claw swipes, and chased it again, since it seemed to realize how big of a threat the teen warrior posed. He was injured a few times, mostly in the arms, except for one slash across the cheek and a deep cut to the abdomen. Even still, he continued chasing the werewolf, making certain Oz didn’t kill anyone.
Towards the end of the night-long battle, Xander was trailing the supernatural wolf’s tracks when Buffy found him. He was limping and clutching at his heavily bleeding abdomen. At the horrible sight of his injuries, she demanded they stop, but he insisted they keep following the wolf.
“Xander you have to stop or you’ll bleed out!” she desperately called.
“It’s fine,” he groaned, wincing at the tightening of his gut to speak. “I just need… a few minutes.”
“No,” Buffy growled.
However, he wasn’t stopping. “We can’t let it- g-get away.”
Grabbing both of his shoulders, she wouldn’t allow him to move another inch, and fiercely asserted, “I’ll track, you stay!”
At the intensity of her serious eyes, Xander obliged. He rested against a tree as Buffy tracked the werewolf. After a few minutes, his slashed skin finally sealed up, and he continued following the trail of broken branches Buffy had made. He finally caught up to her thirty minutes before dawn, watching the werewolf lay down in a small clearing, seemingly for the remainder of the change. Xander jogged back several miles to get his bike and returned just as the sun broke the horizon.
Buffy was stunned to see the werewolf was Oz. Xander lent him his torn and bloody jacket, since it was better than nothing, and when he returned to his bike, Buffy asked him if he knew.
Xander was honest and said, “I sort of forgot.”
“How can you forget something so huge?!” she whispered.
“I mean, he’s so chill about it, we almost don’t even notice,” Xander answered. “Plus, he lives in Tibet later on, so it’s not like Old Me saw him often.”
Buffy seemed to accept that, and once Oz was ready, the three walked back in silence. Oz was contemplating his life from that point forward. Buffy was worried about both Oz and Xander, since he was lethargically pushing his bike beside them, giving his body more time to heal from the worst of the werewolf’s feral attacks. Eventually, they came upon a road, and when Xander felt ready to give Oz a lift home, they were found by Giles, Willow, and Cordelia.
Willow was in shock to see Xander—with his bloodied midsection—and Oz, naked but for the bloody jacket he was wearing. Cordelia rushed to Xander and was relieved when she saw that his six-pack stomach only had a pink line where there was once a deep gash. Willow had taken off her sweater and given it to Oz for more modesty.
With a trace amount of nervousness, Oz smiled weakly as he told Willow, “I guess I’m a werewolf.”
“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” the anxious redhead asked.
“I’m alright,” Oz reassured her, hugging her before turning to Xander. “I’m more worried about Xander.”
“The bonehead,” an annoyed Buffy remarked, likely aggravated he’d put his life on the line battling a werewolf.
Mildly glaring at Cordelia and Xander, an irate Willow rebuked, “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be alright! He’s done crazier!”
Looking between the three in confusion, Buffy asked, “Am I missing something?”
Oz leaned over as he casually noted, “Feeling a bit of that myself.”
Walking up to Oz, Giles offered him a blanket from his car as he told the teenagers, “There is no teenage melodrama more important than Oz’s current state.”
Buffy perked up and curiously asked, “Melodrama? Who? What? When? How? Tell me!”
Willow answered all of Buffy’s queries with, “Xander and Cordelia are dating!”
Buffy’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she turned to her male best friend. Xander raised his gaze to the morning sky, as if praying to Higher Being Cordelia for patience, while Very Much Mortal Cordelia just shook her head and crossed her arms, effortlessly handling the attention.
Oz commented, “That’s… unexpected.”
Ignoring the teenage soap opera playing out before him, Giles turned to Xander and asked, “Xander, are you okay?
“Obviously, he’s suffering from serious emotional problems,” Willow continued to vent.
Xander sighed at how hurt Willow was, but answered Giles by shaking his head.
With a wide, knowing grin, an eager Buffy asked Xander, “Since when has this been a thing?”
Giles pleaded, “Children, please, can we focus on the one person who truly requires our attention?” The Watcher turned to Oz and led him to his car. “Come along, Mr. Osbourne,” he reiterated.
“You can call me Oz,” the chill teen offered.
Willow followed them, giving Xander one last irritated look of disappointment.
As they watch Giles drive away, Cordelia huffed audibly before reminding Xander, “And you wanted to tell them… Aren’t you glad we kept it from your friends?”
The thoroughly entertained Buffy asked, “For how long?”
As he had just about enough of everything that didn’t involve getting some much-needed sleep, Xander replied, “I’m going home.”
He walked over to his bike, and the girls followed him.
“You want to ride your motorcycle when you’re obviously hurt?” Cordelia asked incredulously. “Uh, did you hit your head while you were fighting the werewolf?”
“Yeah, I did,” he answered, clipping Dreadnought to the bike’s side. “But, I’m dating you, so, let’s not chalk up my crazy decisions to fighting off a werewolf.”
“I’m following you home,” she asserted before walking to her car.
Fearful at the thought of Cordelia driving behind him, he pleaded, “Just… don’t hit me!”
Buffy joined Cordelia as she drove behind Xander to his house. Tired, Xander haphazardly took off his blood-stained clothes halfway to his room, took a quick shower, then passed out on his bed. When he woke up, he was bewildered to discover Buffy and Cordelia were still there. He could hear them talking and couldn’t help enhancing his hearing to eavesdrop.
Buffy was saying, “Maybe we should just go back to uncomfortable silence.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want to know,” Cordelia’s voice replied.
“I don’t! I don’t! He’s one of my best friends,” Buffy rebuffed. “Thinking about him like that-”
“Isn’t going to suddenly change the way you feel about him,” Cordelia interjected as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This isn’t porno-logic. Can’t you just ask me? I haven’t been able to tell anyone for weeks!”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Yeah, before,” Cordelia clarified. “Now that you all know, I need to tell someone how good he is-”
“Uuaagh, Cordelia. I’m really not-”
“Fine! Whatever,” she hotly rebuked. “We always have to know about your drama, but no one ever wants to hear about what’s going on with me.”
Xander could feel Buffy’s sullen silence from the second floor and promptly walked downstairs to the kitchen. He noted they were wearing different outfits, meaning they’d gone home and returned at some point.
Grabbing a bowl from the cupboard, he asked, “You guys are still here?”
Cordelia casually informed him, “She wants you to take off your shirt.”
“I- I don’t,” a flustered Buffy told the brunette before clarifying to Xander, “I don’t. I just- Giles wanted me to make sure you weren’t bitten.”
“I’m not, but…”
Xander shrugged and took off his shirt, letting Buffy see his ripped muscles. Though lean, every major muscle group—chest, abs, shoulders, biceps, neck, and back—popped imposingly. He spread his arms and slowly turned around, letting the blonde get an eyeful of muscles that only had a right to be on ripped Olympic athletes.
She snapped out of her reverie when he asked, “See anything?”
Dumbstruck by his physique, she stuttered to answer, “Uh, n-no. You’re really- …You’re good.” Xander put his shirt back on, hearing a disappointed ‘aww’ from Cordelia.
Despite her blushing cheeks, Buffy pushed on to ask, “Now you can explain to me what the hell possessed you to take on a werewolf by yourself?”
“Exactly,” an equally upset Cordelia chimed in, eying him accusatorily.
At the sight of their combined aggravation toward him, Xander cleared his throat before cautiously answering, “I- er, Old Me recognized the howl.” While still lying to them, it helped the time looper to know that, in a sense, the old version of him did recognize the sound of a werewolf’s howl. “He fought plenty of werewolves, so I felt I could too. Plus, I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“And I don’t want you getting hurt!” Buffy once again asserted.
“We,” Cordelia corrected with a stern look toward Buffy. “We don’t want that.”
Xander sat at the table and eyed the both of them as he said, “Buffy, I’m going to keep going out there, whether you like it or not. But I promise you- I promise both of you, I’ll be as careful as humanly possible. We can spar and train, or whatever, as much as you want, so you’re comfortable, but I’m not stopping.”
Buffy and Cordelia seemed resigned to accept his decision, and the three had lunch before he grabbed his tools—for some repairs at the Summers’ home—and gave the blonde a lift back to her house.
Two nights later, Buffy and Xander broke into one of Sunnydales’ many funeral homes to investigate the death of a classmate. Xander knew it wasn’t Theresa, since he had saved her from Angelus by giving her a ride home on his motorcycle. Opening the casket, they were saddened to see Theresa’s friend, Monica. They saw the fang holes on her neck and knew that a vampire had drained her, but Xander couldn’t be sure if it was Angelus.
Suddenly, Monica opened her eyes and immediately attacked Buffy. The Slayer fought the young vampire with ease until she mentioned how much Angel still loved her. Buffy instantly froze, and Monica would’ve bitten her if Xander hadn’t staked her from behind. He kneeled to check on his friend, and she quickly wrapped her arms around him, clutching at his shirt.
Xander could feel her trembling. Buffy was hurt and scared, and he gave her the most comforting hug he could manage. Through the power of his ring, he raised his body temperature to warm her up as he held her. He simply wanted to be a stabilizing force for her, because he understood how it felt when the world was yanked from underfoot.
After many moments, Buffy eased her hold and leaned back, gazing gratefully into his eyes. They were so close and he was so warm, her eyes changed. Her pupils dilated, making her greenish-blue eyes seem larger. She swallowed and her eyes flicked to his lips. Xander leaned forward, close enough to kiss, but rather than touch her soft lips, he gently pressed his forehead to hers.
“It’s alright, Buffy,” he softly told her. “You’re going to get through this. It may not feel that way right now, but trust me. I know you.” He cupped her heart-shaped face as he gently expressed, “You’re the strongest girl I’ve ever met. And if anyone can handle this, it’s the girl that puts the world on her shoulders, and keeps us all safe every night.”
Buffy once again hugged Xander desperately as her tears overflowed, streaming down her cheeks and onto his shoulder.