Title: The Calm Before

Author: Jeanny

Rating: PG

Feedback: Please. jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Spoilers: Season 7 Through Potential

Distribution: I don't mind, just credit me and let me know where it's going.

Summary: Willow shares something with her oldest friend.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, Inc., UPN and any one else with a legal binding claim to the shows and/or characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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He's pretending, right now, to read a really big, boring book.

They don't need him to help with the research, not anymore. Willow's all over it, so's Dawn. Anya's got the whole `demon-life experience' deal. Even Andrew knows a bunch, surprising as that might be, though Xander muses that most of what he offers is fairly useless unless the Scoobies all plan to revert to the Dark Side of the Force. He knows he's not going to be the one to come up with the big researchy solution, but he also knows it's important that he be here. He needs to see what's happening so he can see what he can do to help. To really help, not the faux help he's offering right now.

Willow's talking about a spell she thinks will help, and that expression is back, the one that disturbs him. The worried one. It reminds him of school. Way back in elementary school, when she'd be convinced she would fail every test. He would hold her hand in the playground, trying to keep her from hyperventilating. He knew her anxiety was real, despite the absurdity. She would never fail. That was his job, he would have told her then, and she'd roll her eyes. He could try that now, but he fears there'd be no comfort in it. She's already failed.

She stands to get another book and he watches her move over the top of his book with a frown. She doesn't move the same now. Everything about her is stiffer, unyielding, as if she can't bend right anymore. As if relaxing is no longer possible, because there's just too much pain. It tears at his heart, to see her this way. She's like one big bruise, and he feels compelled to try to heal her, but he doesn't know how. He shuts the book, rubbing the burgeoning tears out of his eyes with his thumb and index finger impatiently. When his vision clears, he notices with surprise that they're all staring at him now.

"Sorry. Hard to read with the tired eyes. Words doing that funky dance thing," he says, and this seems to satisfy them all, though Dawn looks at him hard for a moment before returning to her own research. He sighs, giving Willow a small reassuring smile as she comes back to the table. Her lips twitch, a smile being just too much effort for her now. She hasn't really, truly smiled since she got back...well, really since Tara...he pushes back his chair. "Thinking a little air might help. And coffee. Anyone else wanting? Anything?"

Anya and Andrew say no, Dawn shakes her head after giving him another probing look, and Willow just looks down, seeming not to even hear. He hesitates, wanting to engage her, draw her out...but wrong time, wrong place. He heads out to the porch and stares into the darkness. Buffy and Spike had taken the potentials out on another outing, but he knows they'll be back anytime. Just as well-

"Xander?"

"Will? Hey," he answers, surprised. "Everything okay?"

"That's what I was gonna ask you," she replies, trying for cheery and failing. There's nothing light about her anymore, she's all heavy, weighed down by guilt and shame and fear. She's avoiding the question, he notes idly. He's heard her lie and say she was okay, to Buffy and Dawn, to Kennedy too, but with him she just dodges.

"Just enjoying the quiet," he smiles. "How goes the spell-readiness?"

"Oh. Good to go. Just..." she says, then takes a deep breath. He nods, reading her mood as more pre-spell jitters.

"Hey, no rush, Will. Whenever you're ready is fine, I'm sure. It's not like it'll be the end-"

"Xander I love you."

"-of the world..." Xander pauses, not quite sure what he had heard what he thought he had. He frowns, puzzled, and she steps toward him, trembling. With fury, he soon realizes with alarm.

"I love you. I love you...so...much, and I never say it," she says, the fierce intensity in her almost making him step back. Her hands are clenched into fists, and there is nothing soft and tender about this confession. No, Willow is angry, and he is confused. The last time he saw her this angry, she went all black magic woman and...he doesn't want to think about it. And this is different. Her eyes are flashing with fury, but they're green. They're clear.

"Will-"

"I never say it unless things are dire, and the world's ending or coming apart and we're all taking on the evil and we think things are over...and I...that's stupid, I've been so stupid. We...all of us...we're...just..." Willow wrings her hands, frustrated at her inability to come up with a word.

"Stupid?" he asks softly, really not trying to be a wise-ass but too confused to say anything else. She glares at him, then like a balloon will explode when too much air is inside, the rage is suddenly gone. Her eyes are hollow, almost lifeless, and he wishes he could take that one word back.

"That's just not how it works," she whispers, so soft he nearly misses it.

"Not how what works?" he asks, and she surprises him by laughing. Sure, it's a bitter laugh, little more than a cough, but he can't recall her laughing even once since she got back from England. He's missed her laugh, but this one makes him infinitely sadder.

"How the world ends." She looks to him as if she's got a terrible secret, some immensely powerful knowledge, and he knows that just for a moment there is fear in his eyes and he thinks she's going to retreat, go back into her shell or worse, leave him. Leave him and his doubt, his faithlessness, but instead she is completely composed, saying, "Think about it. We've survived a whole lot of apocalypses, and Buffy's gone against a whole lot of baddies, but we see it coming. Sometimes it takes months to come. It scares us, and we think we're gonna die, but we plan, and we prepare...and we win. The world doesn't end like this," she says, gesturing toward the house where the others are still engaged in research. "Not in some kind of epic good versus bad battle royale."

He thinks he understands.

"You're going to be okay, Will. You're not going to lose it again. I mean, I know the First got in before...it's gotta be scary."

A slight flicker of disappointment in her eyes is her only reaction as she continues to speak.

"You're not getting it, Xander. I'm not talking about me going all Destructo-Girl. Hurting everyone I care about, though of course I'm scared to death of that. But that's not what I'm taking about now."

"You're gonna have to help me then, because I'm not a smart guy, as you know," he states seriously. Her eyes flash reproach at him this time as she shakes her head. For a moment he fears he's gone too far, distracted her off the subject by his self-deprecation, but what she has to say to him, what she really has to say, is clearly important to her. She is resolute, and he is listening.

"I'm talking about how things end. Don't you see? It'll be on a night like tonight." She moves to the front of the porch, gazing out at the stars, and he stands next to her, searching her face for any kind of emotion, finding nothing. She's like a still stagnant pond to him as she continues, "Quiet, nothing particularly evil going on. When we think things are going to be okay." She turns to him then, and a ripple of pain breaks across the surface of her. He wants nothing more than to hold her as she starts to shake, but when he steps forward she holds up her hand, stopping him. He notes with concern that there is blood on her palm from where her nails have dug in. "When we're happy, and relaxed, and...and everything is...is good, that's when it happens. That's when it...things end, it all blows apart and y-you never have time to say anything! You d-don't get to...all the things you thought you'd have time to say, you won't. It's just over."

He gets it now, and he feels like kicking himself for being so dense.

"Tara."

"Was my world," she confirms, then shakes her head. "I don't know how to function in this one. I don't...I don't know who I am now." She looks down at her trembling hands, her eyes widening when she sees the blood. He knows she's thinking of the other blood she has had on her hands, and he seizes the opportunity, eliminating the gap between them till she's looking up at him, shaking her head slowly. "I don't know who I am, Xander," she repeats, lost and frightened in a way he's never seen before, but he's calm, relieved. She's finally ready to let him in.

"I can help you there," he says softly, cupping her chin in his hands. "Want to know what I see?" She nods, eyes finally filling with tears, and he holds her close as she sobs on his shoulder. When she's a bit calmer, he tells a story of a girl who fell off the edge of the world and managed against all odds to crawl back up. A girl who has returned to the place where her world ended because she is needed, and who keeps on trying despite the pain it causes her. A girl of incredible heart and amazing courage, as she's always been. Then he tells a tale of that girl, a broken crayon, and a somewhat crazy, very determined boy who loves her no matter what. How the world could end a million times over, but the boy will always be here.

"It's going to be okay. I love you, Will. I love you," he says again, and again, and again, just as he had on that cliff side not so long ago. He feels her try to let go, and he simply grips her tighter, not ready to feel her pull back from him in any way. Not physically, not emotionally. Not when they're so close to the end of things.

"I kn-know," she hiccups. "I know. I love you, Xander."

"I know. We're going to make it through this," he says, and she nods, sagging against him suddenly, her eyes closed, her head against his shoulder.

"Okay," she says, surrendering to his sureness, without the energy to struggle against this tide of unexpected confidence. When he looks in her eyes again, he thinks he sees just the tiniest glimmer of hope, and he grins. He gets a little smile in return, and that's enough for now. She squeezes his hand. "I should get back to..."

"Yeah. I'll be in in a sec."

"Thank you," she whispers as she slips back inside.

Xander gazes into the quiet calm of Sunnydale and for a brief moment wonders if she is right. If the world is ready to end, but is waiting for the element of surprise. If this whole idea of breathing room, the calm before the storm, is just an illusion. If the proverbial storm was simply waiting for the right moment. Waiting to be unexpected, as if badness in this burg would ever get that. Right.

"Never gonna happen. Not on my watch," he vows softly as he heads back inside.

Somewhere in the night, something akin to Fate grins at the challenge.

******