TITLE: Coming Home
by Michael M. Warren (aka littlexander)
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: One year after the events of "Chosen", a lone figure returns to California...
DISCLAIMER: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters and settings herein are the property of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy. No offense is intended.
FEEDBACK: Reviews are welcome.
SPOILERS: Buffy season 7, Angel seasons 4 ***and 5***
Awarded second place in the 3rd Annual Fan Creative Writing Contest (2003).
* * *
"British Airways flight 283 from London Heathrow now arriving at Gate 121. All passengers will be disembarking through the main arrivals hall."
The harsh voice of the tannoy cut through the jumble of conversations, as the man stepped onto the moving walkway. It had been a fairly quiet flight, sitting on the aisle with a young boy and his mother next to him. The kid spent most of the time staring at him. He wasn't surprised. Most people did. Even here, at LAX, with thousands of people coming and going everyday, he stuck out like a sore thumb.
Immigration always took forever. The dog-eared passport he'd meant to get renewed months ago heaved with the weight of ink from dozens of entry and exit stamps from across the globe. He figured it took them long enough just to find somewhere to stamp. Somewhere between Pakistan and Argentina, probably.
He yawned. Sleep hadn't been very forthcoming on the flight. It was a problem he found all too frequent. It had been a year now, and still he couldn't manage to sleep in the air, ever since that flight from LA, the memories still vivid in his mind...
"Been around?"
The Immigration clerk shook him from his reverie, handing back his passport. In another time, another life, a life before he'd endured all he had, he would have had a smart reply with which to respond to her question. In this time, this life, he simply smiled, said, "Pretty much," and walked off.
Collecting the small case he'd packed with a few days worth of clothes from baggage claim, he made his way out through the main doors of the Tom Bradley International Terminal, and into the blistering heat of California in May. He looked around for a moment, before seeing the island signed "Rental Car Shuttle" in lurid purple.
* * *
The rented Ford cruised along the 405 freeway, keeping safely inside the speed limit. There was no rush. He took out the business card that had arrived through the mail... he kept wanting to say post... a few months back.
Wolfram & Hart
Attorneys at Law
It had seemed a strange thing to receive, a card from a law firm, until they'd read the attached letter. So, Angel was a big corporate type now? It seemed a little out of left field, even for Dead Boy...
Century City was still easy to find. He thought it was a shame Angel had left the Hyperion behind, he wouldn't have minded driving further down Santa Monica, maybe seen some of the sights again... no. That wasn't why he'd come back. Not now. Not today.
The business card had seen him through the gate, no trouble. The security guard had looked a little... scared was the only way to describe it. He hoped it was something other than the card that had scared him... but, then again, Angel had told them some pretty bad things about the old Wolfram & Hart...
* * *
The vast lobby impressed him the second he passed through the doors. Sunlight shone through the huge glass panes that made up the building's structure. Dozens of employees walked past, most talking to each other, or on cellphones, all hurrying to get to wherever they had to be.
He looked around, trying to see some sort of reception desk.
"Wolfram and Hart, how may I direct your call? No, I'm afraid Mr. Pryce is not available at the moment. Can I take a message? No, he won't be available for some time. Certainly. Thank you. Goodbye."
The receptionist looked up at the young gentleman approaching the desk. His appearance took her slightly by surprise. It wasn't the scruffy jeans and checked shirt, or the sunglasses perched atop the head. No. It was the...
"Ahem."
She made an almost imperceptible double-take as he stopped in front of her, tried not to show he unnerved her. She'd seen three-eyed demons, demons with compound eyes, some with double vision. But seeing a human... disfigured in that way was more than a little disturbing. She reset her glittering receptionist smile, and looked up at him.
"Welcome to Wolfram & Hart, how can I help you?" Bounty hunter, was the first thing that entered her mind. The man smiled at her.
"I have an appointment with An... with Mr. Angel. 5:00."
The receptionist turned away to access the client database, and called up Mr. Angel's appointment book.
"And, your name, sir?"
The young man looked up.
"Harris."
* * *
The buzzer on the intercom cut sharply into the silence. Angel had his chair facing the drawn curtains, then turned it around to face his large mahogany desk. He flipped the switch on the intercom.
"Yeah."
His secretary's voice came through the grilled speaker.
"Your 5:00 is here, Mr. Angel."
Angel smiled, lightly. He'd been wondering when he'd arrive. With a brief look off into one of the darkened corners, he stood up.
"Yeah, send him in."
He flicked the intercom off, as the door opened, and he entered. It had been a year since they'd last met. Those last insane days after the fall, the departure from LA. So much had happened to them all.
"Xander."
"Dead Boy."
He walked up to the desk, and shook the cold hand extended to him. Angel showed his guest the seat.
"You didn't have to arrange an appointment." Angel smiled.
Xander sat down. He tilted his head.
"I know. It felt the right thing to do."
Angel leaned back in his chair.
"How're you doing?"
"Well, we're busy. Setting up a new Watchers' Council takes a lot of time and effort, especially when you have several million Slayers to locate and train. It's... it's a tough job."
"It hasn't been easy." Angel shuffled a few papers around on his desk. Xander looked a little uncomfortable.
"No. It hasn't. We've lost a few people over the past year. Willow..."
Angel looked up, in a moment of shock.
"Willow's...?"
Xander shook his head.
"No. She... we lost Kennedy a few months back."
"Kennedy?"
"Willow's girlfriend. She was one of the Potentials who came to Sunnydale back before..."
Angel stood up from the desk, and walked around to the front, sat on the desk.
"What happened?"
Xander sighed. Unpleasant memories were surfacing again.
"We'd got word of a demon cult surfacing in Boston. A few of us went out to check it out. They... learned we were in town, launched a preemptive strike. You probably heard about it. Burned down half of Quincy Market to get to us."
Angel nodded. He'd got reports from a W&H field office over there about it.
"Kennedy... she stayed behind... to make sure the rest of us got out alive. I had to pull Willow out of there, she was so determined to go back inside. She... she hasn't been the same since."
Angel let him recover for a moment.
"I'm sorry."
Xander nodded, emotions overwhelming him.
"It's just... today. Nothing personal."
"Of course."
They sat there for a moment in silence. There was no awkwardness in the lull, the two men both knowing it was necessary. Too much had happened to confront it all in one day.
"How's Buffy?"
"She's good. Busy. With her and Giles heading up the new Council, she stays in England most of the time, working with the operatives. She gets to train some of the new girls from time to time."
Angel noticed the unspoken.
"But?"
Xander looked around.
"The past few days, weeks maybe, she's been... drawing in on herself. I suppose it's understandable, considering..."
Angel looked a little uncomfortable, which was strange even for him.
"Yeah."
More silence followed. After a moment, Xander looked back up.
"How about you? Running a huge operation like this."
Angel stood back up from the desk. He looked a little uncomfortable.
"Yet another thing that hasn't been easy."
He looked at the curtains, as if he was trying to see out of them, into the bustling metropolis beyond, through the layers of cloth between the office and the sunlight beyond.
"We had a little... incident here a few weeks ago. Still cleaning up, actually. The Senior Partners, guys who run every other office of this place decided to play a little game of coup d'etat. We lost some people too. Someone I... particularly trusted."
Xander saw the scorch marks on the walls in the corridor, and the damaged light fittings on the ceiling on his way in. It must have been a bad time.
"Sounds like the usual May fun and frolics."
"Yeah."
Xander breathed out. He felt like he had been holding that breath in for hours, maybe days. He stood up.
"I should get going. I wanna get there before dark."
Angel turned.
"Sure. I understand."
They shook hands again.
"It was good seeing you again, Xander."
"You too, Angel."
As Xander headed for the door, Angel looked up from his desk.
"You know..."
Xander turned.
"I think that's the first time you've called me by my name."
Xander's lips twitched, a half-smile forming.
"Maybe so. Does it scare you?"
Angel smiled.
"Keep in touch."
The door opened, and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce entered. Xander hadn't seen the former Watcher since they'd blown up the high school. According to Willow, a lot had changed since then...
"Angel, I wanted to get your opinion on..."
The door swung shut. Wesley noted the departing figure, then looked back at Angel.
"Was that Xander?"
Angel nodded. Wesley looked at the closed door.
"You didn't tell him?"
Angel's face grew darker.
"I couldn't."
A voice emerged from the shadows in the corner.
"I know. And I'm glad of it, mate. I couldn't bear for that to get back to Buffy. Best that she thinks I'm dead and have done with it."
The figure walked into the light...
* * *
Another long, straight road, this one lined with desert scrub. With the stereo tuned to some non-descript indie/light rock (he thought he'd seen the singer perform at the Bronze a few years back... Michelle something...), the top down, cold air blowing in his face, Xander did his best to keep his mind off the memories the closer he got to his destination. He'd pulled off the 101 somewhere around Oxnard as the evening rush hour traffic had begun to build up, and headed onto the desert roads. Much quieter, more time to think... yeah, his inner sarcastic voice said, think, which is why you have the radio up and the air con on full... cause you want to think. Right.
Shut up, said his inner... other voice.
He was about 2 hours clear of LA now. The bright lights of the big city had faded in the background long ago, and the sinking sun was casting a reddish glow on the sand and withered bushes along the edges of the tarmac. He was getting close now.
* * *
The counter clerk at the 7-11 looked up as he entered the store. The first thing that caught her attention was his eye patch. Considering she had four tattoos and three piercings herself, it shouldn't have unnerved her, but... it did. He went to the cooler cabinet, picked out a bottle of water, and walked up to her. She kept staring. After a moment, he coughed lightly. She blinked.
"Sorry."
He handed over a $10 bill, got his change back, and headed back outside into the cooling evening air. Xander looked around at the storefront. It, and the surrounding town had sprung up about twenty miles out of what had been Sunnydale, mostly out of the old residents who'd found themselves homeless after the evacuation and fall of the town. The Army Corps of Engineers, FEMA and a bunch of civilian contractors (including Xander's old company) had done their best to rebuild the town as it had originally stood, but Xander could tell the difference. It wasn't the same. It would never be exactly the same. He opened the bottle of water, *** and took a drink.
"You could share that, you know." Buffy's voice called out from the seat behind him. Across the aisle, Willow's head was resting on Kennedy's shoulder, and she was snoring lightly, completely exhausted from the day's events.
Xander turned to her. She saw the sadness in his eyes.
"Xander, I'm sorry."
He nodded. A lump formed in his throat. The events of the past few hours were finally hitting him.
"I know. It's just..."
"Hard." Giles walked up from the front of the bus. Wood was still driving, his stomach wound bound tightly, just holding for them to get to the nearest hospital, in Oxnard. Xander looked out of the back window, at what they had left behind.
"There... there wasn't any time to see... I didn't get the chance to say goodbye. Say... God, there were so many things I wanted to say."
Buffy looked at him, sadness and sympathy warring in her eyes.
"I know. Really."
Xander smiled, sadly.***
The memory overwhelmed him, and, for a moment, he almost stopped breathing. He dropped the bottle of water on the ground, spilling the contents into the desert sand.
"Damn."
* * *
WARNING:
UNSTABLE LAND AHEAD
PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK
U.S. DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR 216.127.68.28
The road was getting bumpier. Cracks were appearing in the previously unmarked surface. It was becoming impossible to proceed at anything more than walking pace. Xander sighed, pulled the car to the side of the road, and killed the engine. It wasn't much further anyway. He could walk.
* * *
The road surface was almost completely destroyed now. According to the report from the U.S. Geological Survey (a copy of which Wil had managed to get a hold of), the sinkhole that had swallowed Sunnydale had damaged the surrounding tectonics to such an extent that an area five miles around the ruins of the town were in danger of collapsing at any moment. There were frequent minor quakes, liquification events. It wasn't a good place to be. But, it was the place Xander had to be today.
The memorial was still in place. After Giles had discovered the Watchers' Council's accounts had survived the destruction of their headquarters, one of the first things he did was arrange for it. Standing some 500 yards from the crater where a town of 37,000 had stood a year ago, it was a simple marble relief, engraved with four names. 37,000, and they only lost four in the final battle. Xander walked over to it.
In memory of those who died in the sudden collapse of Sunnydale, California:
Amanda Jones
Chao-Ahn Ting
Anya Jenkins
William Spike
May 20th, 2003.
May they rest in peace.
He stopped in front of the marble, and ran his hand through his hair.
"Hi."
A light breeze blew dust across the ground.
"I'm here."
No answer. He wasn't expecting any. He sighed.
"I... don't really know what I'm doing here. I guess I just needed to see you."
He looked around at the wreckage.
"I miss you. God, I guess that goes without saying. There isn't a day goes by I don't think you're going to come walking in the door.
There's... so much I wanted to tell you. So much I needed to say, but never got the chance."
He squinted up into the setting ***sun that was just peeking through the trees, as it rose for the last time over the town.
He stood in the back garden, watching the light filter through the trees.
"Morning." Anya stepped down from the porch. He turned and looked at her.
"Hey."
She came and stood by him. He looked over at her, her face peaceful. He stood that way for a long while, watching her. Finally, she noticed him staring.
"What?"
She looked over at him.
"What do you mean, 'what'?" He smiled.
"Stop staring at me, Harris." The smile grew into a grin.
"Was I staring at you?"
Their eyes met. He took her hand in his.
"Be careful," he said, fearing for her even more than for himself.
"I will."
There was a moment of silence between them. There was so much to say, and so little time in which to say it.
"Anya..."
She looked up at him.
"I..."
"Guys."
Buffy's voice called out from the back door. They turned, and looked up at her.
"Bus is here."
Xander nodded.
"We're on our way."
Buffy nodded, and walked back inside. Through the windows, they could see their small army of Potentials (the 'cannon fodder', Anya had called them) preparing, gathering weapons. It was time.
Anya stopped him as he headed off inside.
"Xander?"
He looked back at her.
"What?"
"What were you going to say?"
He smiled, and kissed her fondly on the forehead.
"It can wait. Come on."
They walked inside, ready for battle.***
The gaping hole reminded Xander of how that day had ended. He'd been fighting side by side with Dawn, taking on the Ubervamps. But, all he had thought about was Anya, how she was doing, if she was...
He'd stayed behind as long as possible, calling her name. Hoping to hear a response. When Dawn pulled him from the building, it felt as if he'd left a part of himself there, still calling out after her.
Maybe that was why he'd come back. To find that part of himself again.
He didn't know. Everything was just a blur of sound and images.
"I wanted us to try again. I thought maybe... maybe things would be better this time. Maybe we could get a happy ending, like we wanted. It was just... oh, God."
Tears were flowing freely down his face. A year's worth of repressed emotion flooded to the surface, and he fell to his knees. After a moment, he looked up, tracks glistening on his cheeks.
"I just wish I'd had the chance to say it before. I know I'm not exactly Mr. Open Book with the way I feel, and telling you now isn't going to do much, but... I needed to say it. Even if you never heard it.
I love you, Anya. I will always love you. And I'll never forget you. You'll always be a part of me."
He pressed his hand to his lips, then the hand to the stone.
"Goodbye."
Xander Harris stood, looked out over the chasm that had housed his life for the last twenty-three years, then turned his back on it, beginning the long walk back to his car, back to the mission, back to the fight.
