No. Don't think about it. You promised you wouldn't think about it.

I know I did, but I'm so tired. I just want to rest. I need to rest.

No. If you close your eyes, you're going to remember. You can't do that. Not ever.

I know. Not ever. But I'm so tired.

I check the clock again to take my mind off it for a few seconds. Ten minutes until my bus leaves, same as the last time I checked. I can't do this.

"I can't do this," I say out loud. Just a whisper, but a few of the people nearby stare. "I can't do this," I say again, louder this time, just to make them turn away. "I can't do this."

"You don't have to," Xander says, as he leans against the wall next to me and drops his bag on the floor.

"Xander?" I ask stupidly. I'm more than half-convinced he's a mirage. I'm so tired.

"Yeah, Buff," he says. "It's me. I'm here."

I just stare at him for the longest time. I can't get my brain to work. Finally, I ask, "How did you find me?"

"I saw you watching us this morning. At school. I figured this is where you'd come, since you don't have a car."

I nod. I barely hear him, really, but I nod anyway. "Why are you here?"

He looks at me like it should be obvious. "I'm coming with," he says.

"No!" I say, louder than I meant to. "You can't come, Xander. I need to be alone. I want to be alone."

I deserve to be alone.

He reaches over and puts his hands on my shoulders. I try to shrug them off, but I'm too tired to put any effort into it.

"You're not alone, Buff," he says. "Never have been, never will be. Not gonna happen."

The tears start to slip out before I can catch them. I wrench myself away from Xander's hands in a fit of rage.

"Dammit, Xander!" I hiss. "This is hard enough already. Why do you have to make it worse?" He starts to say something, but I cut him off. "I can't be here! Don't you understand? I can't stay here, Xander, and I can't look at everyone going on like the world didn't end. Because it should have. I should have let it end, because that wouldn't have hurt this much."

He looks at me and gives me a sad smile. "I don't understand, Buffy. I will never understand how you feel right now. But I'm not going to let you be alone. I can't do that, even if you think it's what you need."

I close my eyes to get away from the look on his face. As soon as I do, the memories take over.

Angel. He's Angel again, not Angelus, and I'm killing him. I tell him I love him, and then I kill him.

I open my eyes and stifle a scream. Xander's there I nstantly, his arms around me. I lean into his embrace and let him hold me. Just for a second. I only need him for a second. Then I'll make him go home and leave me alone. I will. I need to be alone. I'll make him go away.

"Don't go," I plead.

"I won't," he promises.

I nod into his chest. "I can't go back."

"I know," he says. "Not yet."

I shake my head vigorously. "Not ever."

"We'll talk about it later. But not until you're ready."

A sudden thought terrifies me, and I pull out of his arms to look up into his eyes.

"You can't tell them, Xander. You can't tell them where I am. They can't know."

"I won't tell them," he assures me. "I swear I won't. When we get to LA, I'll call and let everyone know we're okay, but that's it. I won't tell them where we are, and I won't tell them when we're coming back. I promise."

I nod, relieved, and then I ask, "How did you know I was going to LA?"

He shrugs. "I asked the ticket lady. Said you were my step-sister, and you were running away from home. It worked."

I laugh at that, just a little. No humor in it, but it's something, I guess. "Do you have a ticket?"

"Of course," he tells me, then gestures to the bus. "Looks like they're ready to board, Buff."

He picks up my bag and his, and we get in line. I don't say anything to him until we're on the bus. He lets me take the window.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask him.

He looks at me in surprise, and I can see that I've hurt him by asking.

"Never mind," I say, and he nods.

I turn to stare out the window at the next bus in line. After a minute, I turn to him and say, "Thank you, Xander."

"You're welcome. You should sleep."

"No," I say. "I can't sleep." But even as I say it, I lay my head back against the seat. Rest. I just need to rest. It'll all make more sense after I rest. Things will be just as horrible, but they'll make more sense. I close my eyes.

Angel. I'm killing Angel again. I'm killing him and seeing the look in his eyes as he dies.

My eyes shoot open, and I stare out the window again. Forget the rest, I guess. Think about something else. Anything else. But I can't. Okay, then think about some other part of it.

I feel Xander take my hand in his, so gently.

Xander. He's here now, and he was there then, too. He's always there for me. Cavalry's here. I can always count on him, even when we don't agree. I can count on him to tell me to...

"Kick his ass," I whisper, and turn my head slowly to look at Xander.

He's looking back at me, his eyes sad and serious.

"You told me to kick his ass," I accuse. "You told me Willow said to kick his ass." I can't believe how tired I sound, how resigned.

"Yeah," Xander says. "Yeah."

"Willow didn't say that." It's not a question. We both know.

"No, she didn't," he admits. He's still looking at me, looking right into my eyes. I can tell he doesn't want to, but he is.

"She cast the spell," I say, with no emotion at all in my voice. "It worked. It was Angel I killed, not Angelus. The spell worked."

"I figured," he whispers. "I couldn't tell you."

It takes me a long time to realize what that means. To realize what Xander did. To realize how I feel about it. I'm so tired. So very tired.

"I hate you," I tell him, but there's no heat in my voice.

He nods. "I hate me, too."

I nod and lean my head back and try closing my eyes again.

Angel dying. Me killing Angel. Me sending Angel to hell.

I whimper, just a little bit, and Xander's arm is around my shoulder. He pulls me to lean against him. I resist for a second, then give in.

I can hate him later. Right now, I need him to hold me.