When We Last Met
chapter twelve
 

Xander was still obsessing over whether, what, why,
and when to talk to
Graham.  He was seriously leaning towards the 'say
nothing, do nothing'
option, and pretending that everything he felt was
him.  Even if it
wasn't...it *felt* like it was, sorta, and Graham
certainly wouldn't know
the difference.  It made that sick, scared feeling go
away a little,
whenever he tentatively decided to do nothing.

Except there was still the sick, scared feeling that
was from knowing that
it *wasn't* him.  He didn't love Graham, maybe he
didn't even like Graham,
or lust after him, or....  It would have seriously
creeped him out to think
that the memories of a possession were controlling him
this way, except
that what he felt instead, was denial.

They *felt* like his own emotions.  Some of them,
anyhow.  In those times
that he un-decided to pretend that nothing had
changed, he felt
relief.  Along with sick and worried and everything
else he'd been feeling
since he'd realized what was going on in his brain.

He'd brought the ingredients back to Giles' place, and
watched as Giles and
Willow got ready for the spell.  Hypnotizing him to
forget Robert's
memories, let him try to find out what *he* felt --
sounded like a great
plan.  Until he started wondering if maybe it *wasn't*
him, at all, and
something in him started objecting to anything that
meant losing
Graham.  Was that Robert, objecting?  Was it him?

Xander had listened to the muddle of thoughts and
emotions in his head
until he couldn't take it any longer.  He'd jumped up
and asked how long
until they'd be ready -- when Giles had said 'half an
hour' he'd taken the
opportunity to go for a short walk, and obsess.

Since then he'd come to no conclusions other than he
really, really didn't
want to do this.  He didn't want not to do it, either.
What he wanted was
to wake up and discover it was all a dream, and that
Graham was lying
beside him, sound asleep.  Xander rubbed his face, and
sighed.  The trouble
was, he *knew* the right answer.  Let Willow and Giles
do the spell and get
rid of Robert, and let Xander find out the truth.  If
he *didn't* feel
anything for Graham, then it was Robert's memories
making him so crazy.  If
he *did* feel something, then losing Robert's memories
wouldn't matter.

It didn't help turn him around and make him walk back
to Giles'
place.  Standing in the middle of the sidewalk wasn't
going to solve
anything -- wasn't propelling him towards the decision
he knew he had to
make.  Undergo the spell, and start over, without
those memories confusing
things.

What if he didn't like Graham, anymore?

Xander shook his head.  He owed them.  He owed it to
Graham, and to
himself, to find out.  He could decide what to do
after he knew -- even if
he decided to pretend, and be what Robert had wanted
to be, if only to
quiet that softly wailing voice in his mind that said
'turn back'.

He gripped the sack of spell ingredients, and began
walking again.

If Robert's memory was the only part of him that
wanted to be with
Graham...he'd end up being pleased he'd undergone the
spell.  If he ended
up still liking Graham, the spell wouldn't matter --
the only thing it
would do would be taking away the things he knew that
he shouldn't have
known.  He'd still see Graham, only now he'd have to
ask if Graham wanted
olives on his pizza, or if he'd ever gone
skinny-dipping, or....

Why had his feet stopped again?

He looked down at them, as if asking those extremities
what they thought
they were doing.  His own mind had a mind of its own -
why not other bits
of him, he thought, then laughed, harshly.  Another
deep breath.  He wasn't
a coward.  He'd done too many things, been afraid of
too many things, to be
a coward now.

He continued on.

It took him an extra half an hour to return to Giles'
place, sweat soaked
the top of the bag he'd been holding, and he had to
wipe his hands on his
jeans again before he reached up to ring the doorbell
-- before stopping
himself and simply opening the door.  "Hey, guys,
I--have...."

Giles and Willow were looking at him.  So were Buffy,
Riley, and Graham.

"Hey, what's up?"  Xander shifted nervously, even as
he handed the bag over
to Willow, who took it, silently.  "This isn't an
intervention, is it?  I
swear I've been a good boy lately.  Er, mostly." His
gaze slipped over to
Graham, and he grinned.  There was a ghost of a return
grin flashing across
Graham's features, before it died away again into
expressionlessness.

"I think it best if we all sat down," Giles replied.

Xander frowned.  "It's never a good thing when you say
that.  You say that
and then the next thing out of your mouth is--"  He
stopped himself from
repeating the descriptions of upcoming holocausts and
ending of worlds that
Riley and Graham didn't need to hear about.  He tried
to think of words to
cover, and Willow interrupted.

"It's OK.  They know."

Xander found himself staring at his best friend for
life, and wondering
when *she* had got possessed.  Probably around the
time she started trying
to direct his social life -- which was ever since he'd
been four.  "Er?" he
asked, as glibly as he could manage.

"Long story, or short story?" Buffy asked.  Riley was
standing beside her,
and Xander suddenly recognized the look on the guy's
face as determined
shell-shock.  He recognized it from every other time
someone...had....

"Short story?"

"They know I'm the Slayer."  Buffy looked up at Riley,
and got a glance in
return.  She apparently saw something there that
reassured her, because she
smiled before turning back to Xander.

"And this is why everyone is staring at *me*?  Because
I had nothing to do
with it.  Giles explains it *way* better than me,
too."  He wondered
suddenly, wildly, if Spike were still in the bathroom.
Should he call
out?  Would it change anyone's expression if Spike
weren't there?

Then he saw the bag in Willow's hands.  Graham took a
step forward.  He
didn't look up to see if those shuttered eyes were
looking at him, or
through him.  Or into him, and seeing someone....

"What's the long story?" Xander asked nervously, not
knowing if he really
wanted to know, but anything was better than wondering
if Graham
*knew*.  If he knew and if he already thought Xander
had lied to him,
deliberately.

Like Buffy had, only Riley was standing behind her,
one hand on her arm and
acting as though he would stay there as long as she
asked him to.  Only
Buffy had had a reason to lie, and Xander...hadn't
known he was lying.  Was
that a better defense?

"That's up to you," Graham said quietly.  "Are you
going through with it?"

Xander didn't reply.  He looked at Graham, saw things
in the other man's
eyes that he could not decipher.  He couldn't, but he
could.  He knew what
the hidden fear looked like, what the lines of grief
were on Graham's face,
and he suddenly wondered where Robert *was*.  Would
Graham want him to keep
those memories, to hang onto someone gone?

"I think I have to," he finally said.  Graham nodded,
and Xander wondered
at the relief he saw.  Graham stepped aside, revealing
the circle on the
floor behind him, drawn in the rug of Giles' living
room rug.  Xander hoped
it was chalk, because *that* much of a cleaning bill
was not factored into
his budget.

Willow moved aside as well, already digging into the
bag, and muttering
something Xander had come to know as vaguely witchy.
He looked back at
Buffy and Riley, their attention back on each other
even as they moved to
the couch, to observe or help, or stay out of the way,
together.  Giles was
holding a book of matches and beginning to light the
first of the scattered
candles.

Xander looked at Graham.  "If this--"  He stopped.
He'd decide afterwards,
he reminded himself.

Graham didn't answer, but as Xander took a step
towards the circle, waiting
for Willow to direct him, he felt Graham's hand slip
into his.