Xander lay sprawled across his uncomfortable hospital bed, the cast on his arm both itchy and annoying. The cast on his arm itched like crazy, and he had to resist the urge to grab the nearest pointy object and go to town on it. The antiseptic smell of the hospital mixed with the less-than-appetizing scent of hospital food, creating a nauseating cocktail that made his stomach do flip-flops.

He poked at the unidentifiable slop on his tray with a plastic fork, his face scrunching up in disgust. Seriously, who thinks this stuff is edible? he thought, eyeing the grayish-brown mush suspiciously. Pretty sure I saw this exact same goop in a horror movie once. Probably right before it came to life and ate the cast.

With a dramatic sigh that would've made any soap opera star proud, Xander moved the 'food' to a tray beside him. He reached for the booklet on his lap, flipping through yet another car magazine Willow had brought him. If boredom were fatal, I'd be long gone by now, he mused, his eyes glazing over as he stared at glossy pictures of cars he'd never be able to afford.

The door creaked open, and Xander's head snapped up, hoping for a distraction. His face broke into a grin as he saw a familiar redhead peeking in.

"Willow!" he exclaimed, tossing the magazine aside. "My savior! Please tell me you've brought something edible. I'm pretty sure the hospital's trying to poison me with mystery meat surprise."

Willow Rosenberg scurried in, her arms laden with a paper bag that smelled suspiciously like heaven. "Oh! Um, I brought you some stuff," she said, her voice rising in pitch as she got excited. "I mean, it's not much, but I thought you might be getting tired of hospital food, and my mom made these cookies, and I know they're your favorite, so..."

She trailed off, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she realized she was rambling. Xander felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his injuries and everything to do with how much he appreciated his best friend.

"Will, you're a lifesaver," he said, making grabby hands at the bag. "Seriously, they should give you a cape or something. Willow Rosenberg: Defender of Taste Buds, Vanquisher of Hospital Food."

Willow giggled, handing over the bag. "It's not that big a deal," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just... you know, wanted to make sure you were okay. And not, like, wasting away or anything."

Xander dug into the bag, pulling out a Tupperware container full of chocolate chip cookies. He popped one into his mouth, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "Oh man," he mumbled around a mouthful of cookie. "I think I just died and went to cookie heaven."

"Xander!" Willow admonished, but her smile took the sting out of it. "Don't talk with your mouth full, mister. You'll choke, and then where will we be?"

"You'd give me mouth-to-mouth, right?" Xander waggled his eyebrows suggestively, then immediately regretted it as Willow's face went tomato red.

"I-I mean, not that... I wouldn't... but..." Willow stammered, her hands fluttering nervously.

"Relax, Will," Xander said quickly, trying to salvage the situation. "I'm just joking. Besides, with your cookies keeping me alive, I don't think we have to worry about any choking incidents."

Willow visibly relaxed, sinking into the chair beside his bed. "So, how are you feeling?" she asked, her eyes scanning his injuries with concern.

Xander shrugged, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his sore muscles. "Oh, you know, just peachy. Nothing like a good old-fashioned beat down to make a guy feel alive, right?"

"Xander," Willow frowned, her brow furrowing. "It's not funny. You could have been really hurt. I mean, more hurt than you already are."

"Aw, come on, Will," Xander said, trying to lighten the mood. "It's not like it's the first time I've gotten my butt kicked. Remember that time in third grade when I tried to defend your honor against that bully?"

Willow's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "You mean when you tripped over your own feet and fell face-first into a mud puddle?"

"Hey, I maintain that was a strategic maneuver," Xander protested, grinning. "I distracted him with my awesome mud-diving skills while you made your escape."

They both laughed, the tension in the room easing. Xander felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. The sweetest and least angry redhead in the world had been his rock through this whole ordeal, visiting him three times in the four days he'd been laid up in this sterile hell. She'd brought him an arsenal of sugary snacks and homemade treats, including his all-time favorite—Twinkies. Thank Hell for Willow and her baked goods, Xander thought, his smile softening. Girl's a lifesaver in more ways than one.

"Oh!" Willow exclaimed suddenly, digging into her backpack. "I almost forgot. I brought you some more books. I thought you might be getting bored with the car magazines."

She pulled out a stack of comics and a few well-worn paperbacks. Xander's eyes lit up at the sight of the latest X-Men issue. "Will, have I told you lately that you're the best?"

"Not in the last five minutes," she quipped, a pleased blush coloring her cheeks.

As Willow settled in to read to him, her soft voice a welcome distraction from the monotony of hospital life, Xander found himself reflecting on the past few days. Giles had visited a couple of times, each visit kinda awkward and tense at first. The Watcher had given him pointed looks and asked probing questions that had Xander holding tight to the nurse call button, ready to fake a medical emergency if things got too intense. But thankfully, the older man had steered clear of the heavy questions in his most recent visit. Guess he's finally given up on the witch hunt, Xander thought, relief washing over him. About time. I was starting to feel like he was on to me.

Buffy had popped in as well, her mood way better than the last time he'd seen her. Which made sense, given that their last meetup had her mom in the hospital and her bloodsucker boyfriend being suspect numero uno. Both of those things no longer being a factor had to be a weight off her shoulders. Good for her, Xander thought, meaning it despite the twinge of jealousy he felt whenever Angel was mentioned. Girl's got enough on her plate without having to worry about her mom or her undead boy toy.

Despite their concerns and apologies for not being there when he supposedly got jumped by drunk bikers—an alibi he was grateful to Sam for, even if it did make him sound like a total wimp—Xander had reassured them with his usual goofy smile.

"Better me than you," he'd said to Willow and Giles both, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. Can't exactly tell them I got my ass handed to me by a bunch of vampire leather daddies, Xander thought with a wry smirk. They'd probably have some real questions about that. "After all, Buffy needed the help with that vampire bitch," he'd added, trying to steer the conversation away from his injuries.

Willow left soon after, needing to get home before it got dark, for obvious reasons.

Speaking of vampires and demon-related stuff, he'd noticed that the sunlight seemed to be affecting him less and less since he'd been laid up. The daybreak still drained him, but not as much as it used to. It was like his body was finally getting with the program, adjusting to its new demonic upgrade. Guess that's my demon blood finally settling like Sam said, Xander mused, flexing his non-cast-trapped fingers experimentally.

Despite that though, his energy—that dark red stuff Sam called Infernal Energy or Demonic Power or Nether—seemed to be recovering at a snail's pace, which was weird. It was like his batteries were recharging in slow motion, and he couldn't figure out why.

Even weirder, over the past half-week, his physical wounds had healed with inhuman speed, the bruises fading and the cuts scabbing over rather quickly beneath his bandages—even if they were still sore. But it was still oddly slow compared to his usual healing rate. Normally, a night's rest was all it took to erase minor scrapes by the time he woke up for school, so this was just... odd.

Xander stared at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the cracks in the tiles for what felt like the millionth time. He knew how quick he usually healed - nightly battles with six-foot-tall chalk goblins, hungry vampire newborns, and giant mantises had given him a pretty good idea of his recovery time. But this? This was just ridiculous.

Three days for bruises to fade. Seriously? He'd never dealt with a broken arm, a concussion, deep stab wounds, a compression fracture in his spine, and a head wound all at once before, but come on. This was slower than a snail race in molasses.

Now, as Xander lay there, his thoughts drifted to the recovery of his broken arm. With any luck, it won't take more than three weeks... He grimaced, thinking about spring break already slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. All those April Fool's Day pranks he'd missed out on plotting - gone, vanished, kaput. Just get me out of here before May hits, please. I can't miss the Star Wars re-release.

The thought of being stuck in this sterile hell for another month was almost enough to make him scream. Or maybe take up interpretive dance. Anything to break the monotony.

He sighed heavily, the sound echoing slightly in the room that smelled like disinfectant and despair. Hospital's really getting to me. I'm already talking to myself. Next thing you know, I'll be writing angsty poetry about bedpans. His gaze fell on the window, the sunlight streaming in too bright, too cheerful for his mood. It was like the sun was mocking him, all "Hey look, it's a beautiful day outside! Too bad you're stuck in here, sucker!"

At least Willow's treats made this bearable. Wonder if she'll bring more tomorrow... The thought of Willow's homemade cookies was enough to make his stomach growl, reminding him that hospital food was barely a step above cardboard in terms of taste and nutrition.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Two and a half weeks had sluggishly trudged by while Xander had been laid up in the hospital, each day blending into the next like a boring, beige-colored smoothie. The only thing breaking up the constant boredom was the occasional visit from Buffy or Willow or a nurse coming in to poke and prod him like he was some kind of science experiment.

Today's break in the monotony came in the form of Willow again, her arrival heralded by the cheerful jingle of her favorite keychain. She breezed into the room like a redheaded whirlwind, arms full of what looked suspiciously like more homework masquerading as get-well gifts. Xander couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, even if the pile of books made him want to fake a coma.

"Guess what? We got a new principal," Willow announced almost as soon as she settled into the chair beside his bed, her tone clearly exasperated. She dumped the stack of papers and books onto the small table next to Xander's bed, the pile teetering precariously like a game of academic Jenga.

Xander arched an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Oh, that's nice," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Another shining beacon of education to guide us through the hallowed halls of Sunnydale High. Let me guess, this one's part troll?"

"His name's Snyder and... not really?" Willow's response was hesitant, her shoulders shrugging slightly as she settled back into her chair, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "I mean, he's not exactly... friendly?"

"Willow Rosenberg not being excited about the prospect of a new educator? What is the world coming to?" Xander quipped, his hand clutching at his heart in mock horror. "What next, a rain of blood? Dogs and cats living together? Mass hysteria?"

Willow tried to suppress a smile, her eyes rolling playfully. "No, it's just that he's kind of a..." She trailed off, her nose wrinkling as she searched for the right word, her hands making vague gestures in the air as if trying to pluck the perfect descriptor from thin air.

"Dickhead? Asshat? Douchebag?" Xander offered helpfully, each descriptor more colorful than the last. He watched as Willow's face cycled through various shades of pink, torn between amusement and disapproval.

"...Meanie," Willow settled on, much to Xander's amusement. She shot him a look, her lips pursed in disapproval, but he could see the corners of her mouth twitching, fighting a smile.

"That's my Willow. So eloquent," he teased, earning a light swat from her on his thigh. "Oh noo, the paiiiiiiin," he whined, clutching at his leg dramatically. "I've been struck down in the prime of my youth! Tell my action figures I love them!"

"Stop it," she scolded, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"It's part of my charm," Xander grinned, waggling his eyebrows. "So, what'd this Snyder guy do to earn the coveted title of 'meanie' from Willow Rosenberg, nicest girl in Sunnydale?"

Willow's face scrunched up, like she'd just tasted something sour. "He gave this whole speech about how he's not interested in making friends," she explained, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. "And then he made me and Buffy participate in the talent show. Can you believe it?"

"Talent show? Ugh." Xander made a face, the thought alone enough to dredge up embarrassing memories of past school events. Visions of off-key singing and awkward dance routines flashed before his eyes, making him shudder. "What'd you do? Did Buffy juggle knives or something? Ooh, or maybe she did a dramatic reading of 'Vampire Slaying for Dummies'?"

"No..." Willow shook her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Buffy and I... we were supposed to perform a scene from a play," she corrected him, her fingers playing with a loose thread on Xander's blanket. "And stuff."

Xander's eyebrows shot up, his interest piqued. "A play? You? On stage?" He couldn't help but grin at the mental image of Willow, his shy, brainy best friend, up on stage in front of the whole school. "Please tell me there are pictures. Or better yet, video evidence."

"Oh, um... it's not... I mean..." Willow stammered, her face now roughly the same shade as her hair. "It wasn't exactly... Broadway-worthy?"

"Come on, Will, spill," Xander prodded, his grin widening. "What play? Romeo and Juliet? Macbeth? Ooh, was it Cats? Please tell me you didn't have to wear a furry costume."

When Willow only reddened further, Xander couldn't help but burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the hospital walls. "Oh man, I wish I could've seen that," he wheezed, clutching his sides.

"It's not funny!" Willow protested, but a giggle escaped her lips. "It was mortifying! We just stood there, staring at each other like... like..."

"Like two deer caught in the headlights of the talent show bus?" Xander supplied helpfully.

"Exactly!" Willow nodded vigorously. "And then Buffy started improvising, which was... interesting."

"Interesting how?" Xander asked, leaning forward eagerly. "Did she start talking about stakes and holy water?"

"No, but she did mention something about demons accidentally," Willow said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't think anyone really noticed, though. They were too busy laughing at us."

"Aw, Will," Xander's tone softened, seeing the genuine distress in his friend's eyes. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad. And hey, at least you didn't have to sing, right?"

"I guess," Willow sighed, then perked up noticeably, her eyes widening in that Willow way that told Xander he was in for a ramble. "Oh! And there was this whole thing with a demon hunter puppet and a demon pretending to be a student and harvesting people's organs." Her explanation tumbled out in a rush, her hands gesturing wildly as she tried to summarize it all. "A student had brain cancer and we found out because a demon took his brain to eat it, or something, but couldn't because it was bad and Buffy fought the puppet, until we realized it was a good guy."

"What?" Xander's confusion was obvious on his face, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of Willow's rapid-fire story.

"Yeah, and Giles almost got his head cut off with a guillotine," Willow added, describing a typical week at Sunnydale High as if it were no big deal. "That was a thing."

"Huh?"

"A lot happened," Willow shrugged as if demon puppets and near-decapitations were all in a day's work.

"In one week?" Xander's tone was incredulous, his mind racing to piece together the bizarre snippets. Judas Priest, I leave them alone for a couple weeks and they're already dealing with brain-eating demons and homicidal puppets. Maybe I should've stayed in the hospital.

"Yeah, and I think Giles might have a girlfriend," Willow dropped in out of nowhere, the tidbit making Xander's eyes widen.

"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you," the teenage boy replied robotically. "Mr. English is dating?"

"Wellll," Willow added, looking off to the side, "I mean, they're not dating, but they're making gooey eyes at each other when they think no one's noticing."

Xander frowned. "Wow, that's…" UNFAIR. The idea that Mr. Uptight and Tweedy somehow got a girlfriend before him just felt wrong, age aside. He was the young, cool, handsome, and dangerous guy. By the laws of nature and everything holy, he should be the one drowning in women. Where was his girlfriend?

Wait… by everything holy… His eyes widened. Noooooooo…

"Also, I met your friend... uh, Sam," Willow changed the subject, her voice dropping slightly as if she were sharing a secret.

"'Sam'?" Xander's heart skipped a beat, his casual demeanor slipping slightly as he considered the implications of his friends meeting his devil boss. Oh shit, what's he doing at the school?

"The... uh, guy... with uh, the bright red hair?" Willow seemed unsure, her description tentative as she tried to recall the details. "Ummm... he has blue eyes... and uh, his skin..."

"Oh, Black Sam, yeah, I know him, he's a cool guy," Xander recovered quickly, forcing nonchalance into his voice. Play it cool, Xan-Man.

"I don't think you're supposed to say that," Willow frowned slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, keep talking," Xander brushed off the correction, eager to hear more about Sam's unexpected appearance at the school.

"He just decided to help Giles digitize some books for no reason," Willow continued, oblivious to Xander's growing concern. "Just felt like helping out, I guess."

"..No reason, huh?" Xander barely kept the suspicion out of his voice. What's he up to in the library? And why's he talking to my friends?

"Yeah, and I just... I dunno, expected him to have an accent, or something," Willow admitted sheepishly, her cheeks coloring slightly at the admission.

"An accent?" Xander raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued despite his unease.

"Yeah, you know…" Willow trailed off, her expression embarrassed as she avoided Xander's gaze, "cause of his... hair... the dreadlocks, and stuff..."

"Willow, you're not supposed to say that," Xander couldn't help but tease, a mock-stern expression on his face. "That's insensitive. How could you?"

"I'm sorry," Willow's apology was sincere, her face reddening like a tomato. "I just thought..."

Xander couldn't help himself, letting out a laugh at Willow's obvious discomfort. "Wills, sweetie, it's okay. I've made jokes about it. Sam doesn't care, he's cool. Trust me."

Willow shot him a relieved smile, her shoulders sagging as the tension drained out of her. "Oh... okay." After a moment, she shot him a frown, her eyes narrowing. "You're the worst."

Xander grinned, unrepentant. "Ain't I a stinker?"