|
Slayerless 4/?
Author: Xander Magnet
Rating: PG-13 (for the moment, may get violent later)
Feedback: Yes please! FB is the only thing that keeps me writing!
(well that and the fact that the stories keep coming through my head!) Email
me!
Spoilers: post season three
A/N: Huge thanks to Bill for looking this over for me, and for
providing the spark to start writing it again!
Hands thrust firmly into the pockets of his beat up
denim jacket, Xander prowled through the seedier parts of Sunnydale on his
way home. He'd been at the hospital for hours and there was still no sign
of recovery from Buffy at all. It seemed like only yesterday he'd been in
exactly the same situation holding Willow's hand and willing her to wake
up from the coma Drusilla's minions had put her in. The difference being
that Willow had woken in less than a day and here it was five days and not
even a flutter of an eyelid from Buffy.
Over the past week the three of them had spent a lot of time at Giles'
place, needing to be in each other's company as if somehow that could
bring her back quicker. But not tonight, Xander was spoiling for a fight,
he needed to do something and he knew if he spent one more night at the
ex-Watcher's place he'd lose the few friends he had left. So he hadn't
gone there when the nurses had finally shooed him out of the intensive
care unit. He'd walked instead. He'd call them when he got home, there was
nothing much to report anyway.
For years he'd walked the streets of Sunnydale, usually when his parents
got too drunk to notice him, or sometimes just when he needed to clear his
head. It had always been a release, an escape from the real world. Not
until Buffy had arrived had he thought anything of it. After she had
crashed her way into their lives he'd marvelled that he'd survived as long
as he had. The nightly walks had stopped not long after that, once he
realised the dangers they posed. More often than not he was too busy
helping out with patrolling or researching to notice the difference in his
schedule but now, with nothing tangible to do, he found himself missing
the freedom.
As he moved along the street he kept his head down, watching his feet and
absent-mindedly counting off the steps as he took them. Whenever he'd had
something to work out, something going on that was too big to handle, he'd
just gone for a walk and thought it over. And here he was, years later
doing exactly the same thing. There had been a lot of times when he'd felt
like he was in the way, but rarely had he felt so useless. He kicked
viciously at a random can which someone had dropped and smirked as it
clattered it's way along the street before him, coming to a rest a good
fifty yards away. Maybe he wasn't completely useless after all - no matter
what certain out of work librarians might think.
So he walked, hands in pockets, not really paying attention to where he
was going, just mulling things over in his head and half-hoping something
would happen so that he could work out some of the frustration he was
feeling. Almost as if his wishing it had made it happen, a shrill scream
echoed out from the cemetery a couple of blocks away. "Give me a
break! I was only joking!" He yelled at whatever god happened to be
listening and broke into a run.
***
Willow glanced at her watch, for what was probably the
fifth time in as many minutes. Frowning slightly, she glanced around
looking for a clock amongst all the ornaments dotted around the apartment.
Anyone else might have been shocked at the small hand axes propping up
books, but as far as she was concerned they were par for the course. She
finally spotted an ornate carriage clock hidden away next to a copy of
"Commentatio De Daemonicis" – she hadn't seen that particular
volume before and she idly wondered if Giles would let her borrow it.
The clock confirmed what her watch was saying though, it was getting late,
Xander should have shown up by now. As understanding as the hospital staff
had been, even they drew the line at over-nighters and they tended to kick
them out in as gentle a manner as possible at around 11pm. Usually whoever
was on the last shift would head over to Giles' place afterwards to catch
the others up on what was happening. It was nearing midnight now and there
was still no sign of Xander, she was fast moving past worryville and
heading towards panic-town.
A noise from behind her made her spin round.
"Xander? Oh… Giles, sorry I thought it was…" she shrugged,
not quite knowing how to finish that sentence.
"That's quite alright Willow. He hasn't checked in yet I take
it?" He took a sip from the cup he was holding.
"No, don't you think he should have? It's getting really late and
it's not like him to not show up or let us know where he is
unless…"her eyes widened, "unless maybe he *can't* let us
know, what if he wouldn't leave the hospital so they arrested him and he
used his phone call to order pizza? Or maybe he's been attacked by some
demon on his way here. Oh god, Giles! What if he's been attacked?!"
She stopped, mostly because she had to breathe but also because of the way
Giles was looking at her. His cup was poised halfway to his lips and his
eyes were crinkling with amusement.
"Willow," he began with a gentle smile, "while I
appreciate, nay applaud, your concern; don't you think you're being a tad
premature?"
He settled on the arm of the couch looking down into a pair of worried
eyes. "It really isn't all that late. Don't you think there's
a good chance that Xander simply got delayed at the hospital? Or perhaps
stopped off to pick up some donuts? I think it's highly unlikely that he's
been attacked by a …"
The door burst open and Xander came flying into the room yelling at the
top of his voice "Demon!!!"
Giles rolled his eyes, "Bloody typical."
|