Name: Cristen Blanding
  Email: JBland16@aol.com
  Disclaimer: I don’t own them (and if I did, I doubt I’d do this to them),
  regardless, they’re Joss’s.
  Summary: Xander’s in love with Willow. But, on the Hellmouth, the course of
  true love... sucks.
  Rating: umm, probably PG-13 for some violence and good people doing
  naughty
  things.
  Spoilers: “Becoming,” in a way, but this is more my own little universe
  (hence, no kiss in “Homecoming”).
  Author’s Notes: It’s more Xandfic than Willfic, but without Willow there
  wouldn’t be a story. Big Thanks to Daisy (I tried to write a prequel to “Only
  You”, but this story wanted to be told). Thanks also to Seren, for reading my
  deluge of emails, Tracy for much needed beta-reading and ego-stroking, and
  my bud Mel, for assuring me that I can write.
  

  I spent enough time with Rupert Giles to know that everything that
  significantly affects a Watcher’s life belongs in the Diaries. I never had
  enough time to record the event that made me a Watcher, and so now I’ll try
  my  best to tell the parts of the story that stick out to me most. This is no
  linear bedtime story: it is the most profound event of my life, in all its
  horror and glory. Some parts may seem innocuous, others too terrible to
  bear, but I can only tell what I know and what I saw. I hope it is enough. Because
  of The Preservation of The Line, the children I have with Willow and their
  children after them will be Watchers: it is for them that I write.

  May 29, 1999
  I lean back against the cement wall, and pull the tobacco smoke into my
  lungs.
 
<Disgusting Habit.> I have the self-deprecation that most smokers in this day
 and age do. But, I need the disgusting habit to keep me from going insane..
  I’ve only been smoking for about a month now, but I’m already up to a pack a
  day. The stress has forced me to find some token release, and the nicotine is
  the only one I have. Tonight, I have more need for release than any other
  night in my life. Everyone I care about is dead, except one person: my best
  friend, the woman I love, Willow.

  April 29, 1999
  Graduation was imminent. Everything was working perfectly, and everyone
  was  happy. Dead-Boy was back, so Buffy pulled herself out of her depression.
  Cordy and I had let our relationship run its course, and then got back to our
  usual business of insulting each other non-stop, but I occasionally stopped to
  tell her how much she meant to the Scooby Gang, and she in turn gave me a
  few  pointers on not being too much of a geek in front of girls: stranger than
  fiction, the object of my childhood hatred became not only my girlfriend, but
  later, one of my best friends. Kind of makes one wonder if I was ever going
  to have guy friends. As for my best friend, I finally accepted the fact that
  Oz made Willow happy. It was a long road, but after getting yelled at by
  everyone about giving her a hard time, I realized that I wanted Willow to have
  whatever made her happiest, and I wanted that because I loved her. More and
  more everyday. It never came as a shock, it just settled upon me with the
  weight of something long-avoided, but perfect and inevitable. And though I
  had no idea why then, the reason that it felt so right would very shortly be
  revealed to me. Knowing how long Willow suffered in silence with her love, I
  shut up about it, and let her have a relatively peaceful senior year.
  So, on one of the last days of the school year, we all sat around a table in
  the library, ecstatic that second-semester seniors didn’t have final exams,
  and practically daring the Hellmouth to upset us. Buffy pouted slightly,
  upset that Angel couldn’t play with us for a few more hours. Willow and Oz
  were, for once, not engrossed in each other, but instead laughing along with
  all of us. The ache in my heart let up a little when she looked away from
  Wolf-Boy for a second to laugh at a particularly bad pun. Cordelia chose to
  spend a day in the library with us, instead of cruising the mall with Harmony
  and the rest of the Princesses. She fought with me, talked makeup with
  Buffy, and, when she noticed me staring at Willow every once in a while, gave me
  meaningful looks that I tried vainly to avoid. It was a perfect day, even
  Giles smiled at my bad jokes. We were reveling in the last few days of what
  was as close to “innocence” as we would ever get: no Spike and Dru, no
  Master and Annoying One, no witches or goblins or ghouls, not even a sign of
  Angel’s less cuddly side. Like I said before, we were just begging the Hellmouth to
  toss something at us.

  May 29
  “Disgusting habit, kid.”
  I see the air around me move as if alive before I can comprehend the words.
  I take another drag, and acknowledge Whistler.
  “You’re a demon; I’ll bet money this is one of the least disgusting things
  you come in contact with.” I puff out the smoke in his direction. He ignores
  the small jibe, and motions me inside the hospital where Willow lays,
  recovering from our ordeal. I haven’t had time to feel the pain of it,
  emotional or physical. The only way to tell that I’m only barely holding it
  together is the slight tremble in my hands and the fact that I’ve gone from
  sardonic humor to sarcasm that’s almost cruel in its bitterness. Whistler is
  used to the routine by now. He started appearing to me a few nights ago, and
  stayed as I sat vigil over Willow’s barely living body. The first night, when
  I was more determined then scared, he explained it to me, almost as cryptic
  as Dead-Boy in his best days: “The balance between good and evil must be
  maintained, and you and Willow are an integral part of that. You have been
  called, Alexander. It is your mission in life. We can’t help it if you have
  to start early.”

  April 29
  Giles came out of his office looking harried. He had his glasses off and was
  pinching the bridge of his nose, denoting that he was concerned, at the least.
  “What up, G-man? There couldn’t be anything wrong. Not only is this the
  most bad guy-free day we’ve had in ages, but it’s almost summer and then
  you  get to have Buffy kick your British butt all day, every day. Oh, yeah, you
  guys call that ‘training’, right?”
  Buffy stuck her tongue out at me, and looked at Giles. “Earth to Giles.
  What could possibly be wrong? And why do you have a scroll in your hand?
  And if you say the word ‘prophecy’, I swear I’ll scream loud enough to break an
  eardrum.”

  “Well, yes... There is a...prophecy... of sorts. But, I’m sure it’s nothing
  to worry about.” He rushed through the last words, and I clamped a hand over
  Buffy’s mouth, before she could get the scream out. “Umm... thank you,
  Xander. Now, the prophecy is not supposed to be fulfilled for some years, but
  I’m afraid it might concern us. Most of us, in fact, meaning not just Buffy.”
  “Ooh, prophecies including us. Finally some payoff for being a Slayerette,”
  Willow practically cooed. I would have continued to sit and grin at her for
  awhile, but Cor kicked me under the table and I realized Willow was still on
  Oz’s lap. I turned back to Giles, finding him safer to talk to.
  “So, Giles, what’s the prophecy say?”
  He went on to explain the thing that would change our lives forever. The
  prophecy was beyond ancient and it was very specific.
  “It seems that, towards the end of this century, there is supposed to be a
  Slayer who does not fight alone, defying the very essence of the teachings of
  the Watchers. This Slayer will fight alongside her friends, she will lead
  into battle those she cares about most, and she will do this because it is the
  dawn of a new breed of Slayers.”
  We all looked at Giles strangely, not quite catching on to what he was
  saying.
  “The new breed of Slayers will start the Preservation of The Line, a time
  foretold in many texts, when the Slayer will be the firstborn daughter of a
  family, and all her siblings will be Watchers. Because the origins of this
  family will be in those who understand the obligation of the Chosen One, the
  subsequent Slayers will fight harder, with as much passion as the last Slayer
  of the old guard. They will have learned from their ancestors that the fight
  is to protect those they love, not the faceless mass of humanity that the
  Slayer protects now.”
  Buffy was quiet, not liking the sound of this. The rest of us hadn’t thought
  ahead that far, but it seemed Buffy had more Slayer sense than we were
  aware of.
  “Giles, why doesn’t this sound good to me? It seems all hunky-dory, I fight
  with my friends, new Slayers fight harder. Why don’t I like it?”
  “Well, Buffy... it seems that to begin this new era, the last Slayer of her
  breed has to...to... die. I assume that I was never told of this because you
  are obviously the last of the old guard of Slayers. But, I found it, and now
  we have to deal with it.”
  “So, we just keep Buffy from dying and everything will be okay, and then,
  when we’re all old and gray, the whole new breed, Preservation thing can
  happen, right?” Willow looked at Giles with more worry in her eyes than in
  her voice. She saw the complications in this too.
  “Well, Willow, it’s not that simple. If Buffy doesn’t die while you are all
  relatively young, then the Line will not be initiated, and no one will be
  strong enough to defeat the vampires that come later.”
  “So, you don’t want me to die, but I have to. Is that it?” Buffy was eerily
  calm. It was scaring us all to death. Cordelia clutched at my hand, and Oz
  tightened his arms around Willow.
  “Buffy... It... it would seem so.” Giles looked near tears. “There’s more.
  It won’t be soon, you have at least years left. The prophecy speaks of you
  fighting near the end of the century, but the Line will not be initiated for
  years at least. It requires a lot for the prophecy to be set in motion, and
  all of it can’t happen now.”
  “G-man, what do we need to avoid to keep her alive for as long as we can?” I
  tried not to sound as shaken as I truly was, but I know that I was failing..
  “Well, the Patriarch and the Matriarch of the Line have to be mature enough
  to start their family. Physically, that’s covered. But, thankfully,
  emotionally we probably have a few years left. The prophecy gets a bit more
  symbolic here. It says that the Matriarch will have the Key to the Line, but
  discard it in impatience. The Patriarch will eventually find the Key, and
  with it, maturity, patience and compassion: the things that will help him in
  the coming battle.”
  My blood ran a little cold. It sounded eerily close to what I was feeling
  after I realized I was in love with Willow. But, that would make no sense, I
  couldn’t be mature enough to start a whole family of little Watchers, and
  would that make me and Willow Watchers, too? It made no sense at all. I
  couldn’t ask Giles outright about it, but he could give me some insight.
  “Giles, the Matriarch and Patriarch, when you say that their children fight
  harder because of their example, it’s not something the parents learned
  directly from the Slayer, right. Like, they didn’t fight alongside her?”
  Giles took off his glasses again and did that nose-pinching thing that scared
  me half to death. He seemed to be searching for words, and that could never
  be a good thing.
  “Well, Xander. The Creators of the Line will be the Slayer’s friends. That
  means that two of you will eventually be parents to the new breed of Slayers.”

  He paused and let it sink in. Two of us, and I knew exactly which two, would
  be parents after Buffy’s death. I looked up to see Buffy, striving to look
  composed, only achieving angry. I disengaged my hand from Cordelia’s and
  went  to hug Buffy. It hit me then that she would never get to see my kids. Willow
  and I would be having children because of her and some crazy ancient
  prophecy, and she wouldn’t even get to be Aunt Buffy to the kids of her best friends. I
  felt something wet on my shoulder and was shocked to find her crying. She
  just held me tighter, letting a few more tears go, and whispered in my ear,
  “Take care of Willow. And promise me that you’ll name a kid after me. Name
  one after Cordelia too; it’d be fun to watch her namesake wear tweed.”

  May 29
  I cringe as they wheel her into an operating room again. Whistler and I wait
  in her normal room, and he tells me that she’ll make it through and I have
  nothing to worry about. We have the Line, it’s been pushing us together for
  thousands of years before we were even born. The battle that took our friends
  will not be enough to claim our lives.
  “Alexander, you can’t blame yourself. Take it as a credit to yourself that
  you realized you loved this woman earlier than anyone thought you would.”
  “What, I’m supposed to be happy about the fact that everyone I ever cared
  about except for one person got killed horribly? Well, I’m sorry, but I just
  can’t be ecstatic about that. Willow will pull through. I know that. How
  could I not? We’re the breeders for a little mystical genetic engineering!
  But our firstborn daughter won’t live. Slayers die, and die horribly. And
  all of our children, all the way down the Line, will be pushing their big
  sisters to go out and die. They’ll be doing research for them, and holding
  punching bags to help train. And I’m supposed to be happy I sped that up?!”
  I see that I’ve caused a slight scene. Nurses and orderlies look into the
  room through the glass window with more than a little worry. Yeah, I’m just
  the crazy man who has to go back to Merry Old England, get hitched at
  eighteen to the love of his life, and start cranking out little tweed-wearing kids who
  fight demons. My mind wanders, I start to wonder if they’ll have her hair and
  my sense of humor. Maybe they’ll love to swim, and be good with computers.

  No matter what, I doubt they’ll eat as much junk food as I do. God, I need a
  cigarette!

  April 29
  “Giles, what else is there? I want to be prepared when this thing comes down
  on my head.” Buffy was a bit more composed now, and we shared a tiny,
  secret smile as soon as I found out she knew about as much as I did. She wanted
  answers now, because the end was coming, and it was coming soon.
  “Well, Buffy. It seems that when the Patriarch finds the Key to the Line, he
  assumes the responsibility of his new role, and the Hellmouth can feel it.”
  My eyes bugged out. I could deal with being Papa Watcher, and I was gonna
  have to deal with Buffy checking out, but el Boca del Infierno getting off on
  my feelings was far more than I could be asked to deal with.
  Oz piped up for the first time since the beginning of the discussion with,
  “How can the Hellmouth feel something like human emotions?” We all nodded
  in agreeing confusion, and Giles told us exactly what was up.
  “The Hellmouth has been preparing for this for a long time. This is
  apparently one of the more ancient prophecies, and most major demons
  would have knowledge of something this old and important.”
  “Then why didn’t you know about it?” Cordelia interjected. She had been
  trying for tact, but no one was interested enough to notice that she failed
  this time. Except Giles.
  “Well, Cordelia, I would have known of it, but I’m sure that it was somehow
  hidden so that I could protect Buffy more effectively. If we thought there
  was a death sentence, we couldn’t do our work, now could we?” Buffy looked
  down, and Willow touched her arm. The tension in the room was getting
  unbelievably thick. I kept wondering if I should tell them. Cordelia knew I
  loved Willow, but I don’t think she had the pieces together yet. That left
  Giles, Oz, and... and Willow. She had discarded the Key, because I was too
  slow in responding, and now I held It. I needed to know how long before the
  Hellmouth... felt me.
  “Giles, what will happen next?” I sounded almost calm. It was a miracle.
  “The Hellmouth will assemble an army of vampires to slaughter the Slayer and
  all who fight with her, roughly eleven to thirteen months after the Key is
  found by the Patriarch.” I backpedaled in my head, remembered the end of
  last year, before Buffy left, and the hospital where I told Willow I loved her. I
  couldn’t exactly pinpoint the date that the feeling became real and not just
  fear for her life, but it was likely that my world was going to die and be
  reborn pretty soon. Giles went on, and I struggled to listen to him, “They
  will try to kill the Creators of the Line, and prevent all further Slayers,
  and we will try to take out as many of them as we can before it ends. All who
  fight with the Slayer will perish, except for the Creators. If they survive
  until sunrise on the Hellmouth, the prophecy will be fulfilled and the Line
  will be created. The two will lose all who are close to them, except each
  other. They will forge a new life with no one to depend on but each other..”
  And then I really listened to him. He had said that he would die, and so
  would Cordelia and Oz, and probably Angel, too. And all close to us,
  including parents. Everyone would die, because some idiot somewhere,
  thousands of years ago, didn’t think that Willow and I could do our job with
  distraction from our friends.
  “This is so unfair.” I heard a small voice say the four words, and turned to
  where Willow had moved off of Oz and into the fetal position in a chair of her
  own.
  She looked straight at me, through my soul, it seemed, and I couldn’t move.
  “You love me, and you never told me. The Key is the love, isn’t it?”

  May 29
  “As soon as she recuperates, we have to move you to England. You both heal
  faster now, so it won’t take as long to get rid of the scars.” The physical
  ones he means. It won’t take us as long to get rid of physical scars.
  “Alexander, look at me. Your friends died nobly, it was their destiny. The
  prophecy was thousands of years old. And so was their duty to the Line.”
  I let out a hoarse laugh, and shake my head. He believes what he’s telling
  me. He thinks it will all be okay because the plan to tear our lives apart is
  really old. I turn to him, “Did Giles ever find out that he didn’t know
  about the prophecy because the Council hid it from him?”
  “No, he didn’t. He just thought it was odd, and could be dealt with slowly,
  until everything fell into place. He died well, kid. His death meant
  something. And he will be back. That part of the prophecy was one he didn’t
  need to know about.” I turn to Whistler, confused. “Each of your friends:
  Giles, Oz, Cordelia and Angel, their spirits will return and give a soul to a
  new Slayer when their talents are needed most. They will fight on, through
  the Line that you and Willow create.”
  I smile slightly at the thought. Things were actually looking up. But a
  thought stops me. “What about Buffy?”
  “Buffy does what all fallen Slayers do: she watches Watchers. She’ll guide
  you through the rest of your life, and help your children.”
  Suddenly the thought of the tall redheaded girl with her father’s sharp wit
  and a crossbow to match shimmers before me. I can see the petite blonde in
  there somewhere, guiding her, guiding us. Things would work out. Willow and
  I wouldn’t have to be alone.

  April 29
  Everyone turned to Willow after her announcement.
  “You love me, and everyone will die because of it,” she went on.
  Giles looked confused, Oz looked sick, Cordelia held my hand while I
  floundered and Buffy took control of the situation.
  “Yeah, Wills, he loves you. From the way he looks, I’d say the timing of our
  finding the prophecy is more than a coincidence. That’s why there’s been so
  little vamp activity lately, isn’t it Giles? They’re getting ready.”
  “It would appear so.” Giles stared at me and Willow. He looked a little awe
  struck. I couldn’t blame him. It’s not every day that your run-of-the-mill
  smartass and computer hacker end up being the prophesied salvation from
  evil.
  He pulled himself together. “It looks like we had better get ready. If we
  know what’s going on, they definitely know.”
  It was chaos from there. After sundown, we called Angel to the library and
  filled him in. He knew of the prophecy, but not enough specifics to have ever
  guessed that it would happen now, or that we would be such an integral part
  of  it. He talked to as many vampires as he could, coaxing information out of
  friends, and beating it out of enemies. We found out we had a month to plan.
  We trained with Buffy, picked weapons, planned tactics, and relied on each
  other more than ever. Oz learned to control his lycanthropy, retaining his
  humanity while having the body of a wolf. Cordelia could kick in stilettos,
  and do major damage with a crossbow. Willow and I both developed
  enhanced strength as the time drew closer, and found that we had a healing factor that
  sped up the process. My weapon of choice was a crossbow, while she stuck
  to the stake and the hand-to-hand combat she picked up so easily. The new
  strength, combined with the desperation she felt, brought out a
  bloodthirstiness in Willow. I still felt slightly squeamish about the whole
  thing, but there was no escape. And so we trained, and never gave up our
  goal. Anger at what was happening kept exhaustion from claiming us. School
  fell by the wayside, and our destiny consumed us.
  Willow didn’t talk to me for about a week. I had had time to process it all
  during Giles’ dissertation, but the idea was new to her. She had waited years
  for me, and when I finally came around, the world was going to fall apart
  because of it. I understood why she couldn’t be around me for awhile, but
  waiting for her to accept me again grew painful, added to the stress of the
  situation. I started smoking to tamp down some of it. Every now and then I
  found a whiskey bottle in Giles’ office; it seemed he had his own way of
  dealing with the pain. As we got closer to the date, Willow and I started
  getting headaches, migraines really, at the same time. We both had dreams
  of carnage and joy, intertwining so that we knew that one had to lead to the
  other.
  We reestablished our friendship, and found the love there that would guide us
  through. I asked her once how she knew it all that day in the library. She
  simply said, “I always knew. It was scary and confusing and perfect. I had
  to get away from the fact that I loved you, because you didn’t see it. I
  couldn’t force you to see it, and I gave up on waiting. It hurt a lot, but it
  was either move on, or go insane. But that one day, you were so quiet, and
  Buffy whispered something to you, and it all fell into place. It was finally
  time. I just didn’t see what price we had to pay.” She cried herself to
  sleep in my arms that night. We leaned on each other for support, and figured
  that whatever mystical bond we had was forcing us together in the most
  expedient way: through our pain.
  Whistler appeared to both me and Willow the night before we lost our friends.
  We had taken to spending all our time together to get through the horror of
  it. We were asleep in her bed, she was finally sleeping soundly, and I was
  holding her, secure in memories of the two of us and mud pies and Barbies
  and  footie pajamas. My thoughts turned to the tall, slim redhead with the
  crossbow. She was never too far away from our thoughts and when Willow
  and I finally talked about our visions of her, I realized that she was ours. Our
  Slayer. Willow and I both saw Buffy in her somewhere, and that was the only
  comfort we had at first, but as time went on, I thought about the childhood I
  spent with Willow, and all the things we would teach our children. While they
  were still young... and alive. The average life span of a slayer is pitiful
  at best, and I knew our daughter would be no different. She would be a
  stronger breed, but still mortal, and one day a vamp who wanted a Slayer-
  killer reputation would take the shy, sarcastic girl from us. Then we would
  only have each other, and our little Watchers, and the Council. There would
  be no one else to understand our pain, because the gift that gave us our
  Slayer would be the bane that took our loved ones.
  I was crying softly against Willow’s shoulder, holding her tightly in her
  sleep and trying not to wake her up, when Whistler appeared to tell us his
  own version of our tale. I awakened her, and she peered, dazed, at the “good”
  demon who was here to usher us through the final gates. He confirmed our
  deepest fears. There was no way we could save anyone but ourselves. The
  only way we would get through this would be to rely on each other. Our love and
  strength would be tested as we watched everyone die, and there was no
  escape.
  He told us to say goodbye to our parents, because by the time we got back,
  they would be gone. We did as we were told, met our friends later, and
  prepared to meet a fate hundreds of centuries old.

  May 28, 1999 - The Dark Before the Dawn
  We met at the library, the seven of us, with Whistler for guidance. Since the
  Hellmouth was under the library, everything would converge there. Whistler
  assured Giles that as long as Willow and I stayed behind the others, we
  could fight also. He tried to protest, but Willow stopped him. Her eyes blazed
  like those of our future child. She looked directly at Giles and said, “Line
  or no Line, I am not sitting back and watching while my friends get
  slaughtered. If they have to take you, we’re taking as many of them as we
  can on the way down.”
  We picked up our weapons and waited. We didn’t have to wait long.

  May 28, 1999 - All Hell Breaks Loose
  The library floor shook beneath us. We formed a loose circle around the
  disturbance and calmly waited for the vampires to jump out at us. The first
  few died quickly enough, but there were so many. More vampires than I had
  ever seen together, all bent on killing me and Willow to ensure their very
  survival. We stepped back, and I shot as many down with the crossbow as I
  possibly could.
  Giles fell first. Elbowing a vampire in the neck, he missed the one who
  stepped up behind him and broke his spine.
  Cordelia was next. She high kicked at a vampire with her stilettos,
  puncturing his jugular, and in a final dying act, he latched onto her throat,
  drinking her blood as his oozed from him.
  Seeing this, Buffy ran over to her dying friend, but neglected to see the
  vampire who flew out of nowhere and picked her up. She got out one gasped
  word, “Angel,” before he snapped her neck. Angel heard, and cried out in the
  most anguished sound I have ever heard. He saw his dead love underneath
  the vampire, and his game face somehow became even more demonic. The
  vampire who killed Buffy picked up the crossbow that lay discarded near Cordelia’s body,
  and tried to stay out of the way of Angel, who was giving inhuman roars while
  he lashed out at any vampire he could find. He took down twenty before he
  finally fell.
  Oz was running in a flurry, in full wolf mode, ripping out the throats of any
  vampires who strayed too close to where Willow and I were stationed. With
  her new strength, a stake flying from Willow’s hand did real damage, and she
  viciously attacked the onslaught of vampires. We only had one friend left to
  protect us, and if they killed one of us before sunrise, the prophecy would
  remain unfulfilled. Which would mean no more Slayers. Which would mean
  our friends had died in vain. Willow was furious now, yelling at me to let fly
  with the crossbow when her quick eyes saw vampires coming that I didn’t
  even notice.
  But, when Oz fell, his throat torn out in a sick parody of what he had done
  to the vampires, her hand faltered for a second too long. The sun started to
  rise, tears dripped off her face, and vampires around us crumbled. I heard a
  sound to the right of us, and turned in horror to see something I was too late
  to stop. The vampire that killed Buffy raised the stolen crossbow, and shot
  Willow in the stomach before he, too, turned to dust.

  May 29, 1999 - The Aftermath
  A nurse tells me that Willow’s out of the woods, but the police want to know
  about all of the bodies in the library, and why our parents have all been
  found dead, drained of their blood. I tell them that I’m eighteen, so I don’t
  need a legal guardian and I’ll talk to them myself, but Whistler is Willow’s
  guardian now, and he’ll answer questions for her. I trust that he and his
  powers will handle it. Then I walk wearily into the recovery room and see
  her.
  She smiles weakly at me, still under the effect of the anesthesia. I hug her
  lightly and give her a kiss on the forehead. She smells the smoke on my
  clothes.
  “You should really quit. It’ll kill you, you know.”
  “No, it won’t. I can’t die until our work is done.” Whistler had filled me
  in on our strange physical changes while we waited for Willow to heal up
  quickly. It seems we have a lot to do in England, and the prophecy was pretty
  specific about our lives remaining intact.
  “So, Xand, we have to break out a new Slayer and some mini-Watchers to
  train before we get to rest, huh?” A tear slips from the corner of her eye. I
  brush it away from her face and look at her with a lump in my throat.
  “Yeah. Buffy told me we have to name a mini-Watcher after Cordelia, and I
  don’t think it’s wise to argue. Who knows, maybe being able to accessorize
  tweed is a talent.” The lump gets bigger and I fight the tears, trying not to
  show any more weakness in front of her than I have to. She was shot
  because I wasn’t quick enough, and I’ll never fail her again.
  “It wasn’t your fault,” she says strongly. “We had to go through a lot, and
  we made it through to dawn. Nothing else matters. Now we go to England,
  and the Council, and try to do what we have to do. What we’re meant to do.”
  I nod at her, knowing she’s right. The flight out to England is in a few
  days. I decided to check us into a hotel, because I don’t think either of us
  could sleep in our houses, knowing how our parents died. But, we’ll get
  through this together.
  “Xand, who’s the new Slayer now?”
  “A girl named Rachel, in Chicago. Another Hellmouth opened up there when
  ours closed, so she and her Watcher have their hands full. The old guard may
  have ended with Buffy, but there are still years before the Line is ready.
  There will be about three more Slayers before... our daughter.”
  She stifles a yawn. “Xand, let’s name her Buffy, okay?” She falls asleep
  before I can answer, and I finally let the tears go for my fallen friends. We
  went to hell and back, but I have a feeling that the future will be worth the
  trip.