Episode 90: Healing Is All One’s Got

The Dilemma of Trust

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by 3D Master (3dmaster@telfort.nl)

Disclaimer see Episode 79

The breakfast table was silent, apart from the sound of one person eating.  The rest was just watching that one person stuffing away sandwich after sandwich, crumbs falling . . . a lot of them missing the plate.  Then milk was gulped away to make the far to great amount of sandwich go away easier.

“Could you slow down a little . . . with the eating?” Chris asked slightly perturbed.

“Huh?” the person in question wondered, mouth half open, half-chewed bread easily visible, letting some more fall to the plate below.

“You’re even starting to outpace Xander with your eating, sis,” Dawn commented with a wide-eyed disturbed face.

“Of course, I’m not half as messy,” Xander felt the need to add, partially in his defense, partially in accusation.

Buffy looked around the kitchen table, and mumbled barely audible, “I’m wam not mw-” The protest was too much and a bigger chunk of bread fell from Buffy’s mouth, causing her too look down.  At first she looked fascinated at the half-chewed bread, and then as if suddenly coming back to reality blushed, and finished chewing the remainder in her mouth, while holding her left hand in front of it.

“How come you’re eating this much this eagerly anyway?” Willow asked with a bit of a frown on her face.  “Doesn’t it usually take baby steps for someone to get normal amounts of food again?  They’ve got relapses and need force themselves to eat, don’t they?”

“Boulimics go on eating binges only to throw it up,” Dawn pointed out coolly.

“Yeah, and I was anorexic, not boulimic, “ Buffy answered snippily and annoyed, having managed to get her overstuff mouth empty by now.  “Besides, they’re aware of what they’re doing, I’m not - not exactly.”  Buffy frowned.

“Instinct,” Xander nodded sagely, “Slayer instincts, no doubt.  It’s finally given the chance to replenish all it lost, and it’s not taking any chances.”

Buffy looked down at her plate with a pout.  The chunk of half-chewed bread she had let fall from her mouth was still there, in her right hand she held the remainder of sandwich.  She shrugged after a moment, and started eating again, this time consciously making sure she wasn’t eating like a maniac - like a very, messy Saiyan, she thought.

“It’s good that that Slayer thing is useful for more things than kicking demon ass,” Chris said with a smile, watching Buffy eat very self-consciously.

“All right, all right, sight banished from mind, now I can finish my breakfast,” Dawn said, dipping her spoon back in her bowl with cereal.  The rest started up their breakfast as well.

After a short while Chris’ cell phone rang, his ring tone an interesting tune, and he picked it up, slightly self-consciously.  Buffy just continued eating - more restrained than before.  “Yeah . . . yeah . . . sure . . . okay.  Goodbye,” Chris said into the phone, and then put it away.  He looked around the kitchen table and said, “Well, that was my boss.  The company is closed for now, with the rain of fire and all.  I’ve got at least a few weeks, he said.  I could stay here, if you’d have me.”

“Of course, I’d have you,” Buffy piped up instantly.  “It’s my house, remember, if they have a problem with you, I’d just kick /them/ out.”  Willow and Xander laughed lightly.

Dawn lightly defensively folded her arms across her chest, and said, “You can’t kick /me/ out.”

“True, but you I can send to your room.  I’m your legal guardian after all, your ass is mine,” Buffy offered with an evil grin.  Dawn’s mouth did several impressions of a fish, at Buffy’s challenging smile, and then deflated with annoyance, mumbling something about unfair, and sisters being a pain in the ass.

“Why did your new ring tone sound familiar?” Xander asked, before stuffing half a sandwich in his mouth and chewing mightily.

“Uh, well, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, the 80s cartoon, instrumental,” Chris supplied lightly.  He had pretty much stopped caring what anyone back home and at work thought about it if they recognized it - the reason he chose it as his new ring tone; these were his girlfriend’s friends however.

“I think I remember that,” Willow said with a frown, and after a moment of thought took a spoonful of her cereal.

“I don’t, actually - I know what it is, but I can’t remember ever watching it,” Buffy supplied before getting a fresh sandwich from the pile to smear it.  Xander was still trying to remember.

“I don’t doubt it; I think it’s just a little too early for you guys, you’d be one, two, three, or four when it ran . . . and now I feel old,” Chris said with a frown.  “You’d have only seen it in a rerun or something somewhere on some little out of the way channel.”

“Sounds either corny, or cool, with the whole ‘Masters of the Universe’ thing,” Dawn said, way too young to remember.

“It’s a bit of both; it was rather preachy,” Chris answered with a wry small.  “I’ve heard they’re making a new cartoon actually.”

“I need to pee,” Buffy said rather abruptly, and Chris looked at her.  “Has nothing to do with you, of course, I just gotta,” Buffy said, afraid he might think she didn’t want to listen to him.  In fact, she had been holding it in through the phone call and the conversation exactly to try and avoid abruptly interrupting him and if she didn’t go right now, she’d go right now. Buffy felt glad she had not spoken that out loud, the pun was unintentional and lame as milk and she was not interested in looking like an idiot.  So she got up, and left to go to the toilet. She quickly hobbled out into the living room and toward the hall and stairs, under which the toilet was located.  Hobbling was all she had the guts to do, afraid if she walked normally, or try to fly, or anything else that required her take away some of the concentration away from keeping her bladder under control, she’d actually pee her pants.

Halfway the living room, Buffy actually had to put her hand between her legs and hobbled onward.  She was whimpering with desperation by the time she reached the toilet, quickly opening the door and stumbling inside as fast as possible.  She closed the door, but really couldn’t pull up the courage to lock it - not that she was allowed to close them anyway. Instead she sped her hands to the crotch of her jeans, and yanked the zipper down. Immediately after her hands starting pulling at the fastener, which of course wouldn’t obey as Buffy was frantic.  “Come on, come on, come!” Buffy shrieked out in desperation, finally managing to undo them.  She yanked her jeans down so fast and hard, for a moment she was afraid she’d tear them, but that concern paled away with the need to struggle her panties down as fast as possible.  Finally she could plant herself down on the toilet, allowing a strong stream of urine to spray into the bowl.  Buffy sighed loudly with relief - she had made it!  She would never have lived it down if she’d peed her pants.  She would be sure the chi she’d generate with her shield had her literally melting through the Earth.

“Oh, good, you’re peeing.”

Buffy’s relief-closed eyes snapped open, and then her head similarly snapped up, seeing Jesse’s head poking through the door.  The only sound in the small cubicle was that of her urine still blessedly splashing down in the toilet water.  She stared at him, and then the vigilant ghost smiled, and said, “Had to make sure, leaving so sudden from the breakfast table.”

Jesse continued to smile, more importantly, he continued to watch.  “Fine, you checked!” Buffy blurted out, when Jesse didn’t immediately pull his head back out, she screamed, “GET OUT!!”

The scream accompanied by a burst of chi, caused Jesse to stagger back, and go, “Yikes! That actually hurt!”  He held himself and tested if everything was still attached, and wondered if he could reattach anything if it had been severed from the main mass of his energy.

“Of course it hurt!” Buffy called out to him greatly annoyed, looking forward to emptying the rest of her bladder in private.  “That was the point.”

“Sjeez, you’re cranky today.  It isn’t like I haven’t seen it all before with the stripteases,” Jesse told her from the other side.

Buffy’s eyes widened!  The stupid ghost actually spoke that allowed.  Well, luckily everyone was in . . .

The door was suddenly, pulled open with authority, revealing Chris, and the ghostly shape of Jesse behind him.  Buffy’s breath caught in her throat, and she looked up at Chris with a whole slew of emotions: hope he hadn’t heard it - which quickly crumbled, embarrassment, hope Chris wasn’t going to be too mad, wishing she hadn’t done it, and an apology.  “You gave the ghost stripteases?” Chris demanded with accusation, pointing behind him with his right thumb.

“Hey, I’ve got a name,” Jesse protest lightly, but found himself ignored, so he went invisible and sulked.

“How do you stop a ghost from peaking to through the walls,” Buffy tried weakly, as her pee slowed to a trickle.

“Doesn’t mean you have to give him a show, besides, you seem to be doing just fine keeping him out,” Chris said a statuesque, commanding anger.

Dawn’s head suddenly peaked from the right around the door frame with an evil smile plastered on it, and she said, “He’s got you there, sis.”

“Yeah,” came Willow’s voice as the witch walked in view, and she accused, “plus, you’re supposed to go to the bathroom with the door open.”

“It wasn’t locked,” Buffy said quickly, not liking everyone gang up on her at all.

“Back to the more important parts,” a smirking Xander spoke as he stepped into view, as a prompt to Chris.

Buffy felt panic constricting her throat.  This was too embarrassing!  Everyone was watching her while she had been peeing and she had to clean herself.  Xander, Dawn, but worst of all, Chris knew about her little games with Jesse to get him to do all kinds of chores around the house.  “Yes,” Chris agreed with Xander, folding his arms subconsciously across his chest to emphasize his position - superior.  “If you’re giving a ghost stripteases, where are mine?  If anyone gets stripteases from you, it should be your boyfriend - namely me.”

“Wasn’t really giving him stripteases,” Buffy said feebly, “I just didn’t send him away when I had to . . .” *Oh, boy, I’m in trouble,* Buff thought, fidgeting as she saw said boyfriend’s right eyebrow rise.  She so wished she hadn’t done it now; especially with Willow and Xander watching, and Dawn smiling evilly to watch if Buffy could get herself out of this.

Chris came to the rescue; a mild rescue, that Buffy knew wouldn’t last - she was definitely in the proverbial doghouse now - but he turned his head to his left, and said casually, “If anyone gets to watch Buffy half-naked wipe herself after peeing, it would be me, wouldn’t it?”

“Ah, this is fun!” Dawn said with hopeful disappointment.

“Well, he’s got us there, Dawn,” Xander said, turning back toward the kitchen and breakfast and started walking.

Disappointed, Dawn followed Xander, and Willow joined her, saying, “He does have a lot of us today.”

“Why is everyone throwing my sayings back at me?” Dawn asked with a pout as they slowly pulled away from the toilet.

“The signs of sharp minds,” Willow answered with a smile.

“Hmpf,” Dawn said miffed, and then stretched her arms out, to put both hands on the back of her head, pushing her chest out in the process.  She peaked sneakily to her left, to see if it brought the desired payback on the lesbian witch.

Back in the toilet, Buffy finished cleaning her crotch.  “Well?” Chris prompted sharply.

“I was just doing it to get him to do some chores for me,” Buffy defended herself weakly.

“Slave labor?” Chris asked her wryly.

“Eh, he was pay- . . .” Buffy trailed off, and looked up Chris, trying to smile sweetly.

“Learned anything from this?” Chris asked her sternly.

“Uh . . . don’t let the blabbermouth ghosty watch you dress?” Buffy asked disarmingly.

Chris closed his eyes and shook his head disappointed, saying, “Not helping, Buffy.”

Ouch . . . she was sooo in trouble.  Time to see if she still got it though.  “When Buffy teases ghost undressy, Buffy should give loooots of stripteases to Buffy’s boyfriend?” Buffy asked with a little-girl-look of sorrow throwing in all the puppy-dogginess in her eyes she’d ever given.

Chris bent down, and pointing at her, he smiled lavishly.  “That’s the one I wanted to hear,” he said, his grin not leaving his face for a moment.

Buffy smiled, and then frowned; wait a minute, that didn’t sound like someone giving in. “Hey!” she said.

“Don’t forget to pull up your panties and pants,” Chris added with an equally satisfied grin.

“I’m not a . . .” Buffy’s protest trailed off, when she realized she’d just been acting like the very thing Chris was treating her like, and she wanted to protest she wasn’t.  “Oh, fine,” Buffy said, annoyed she got outclassed.

*****

Hesitantly Willow approached the door to the apartment.  Nineteen.  The number was in gold, mounted next to the door.  She looked down the corridor, three more doors that way, and the other way, the way she had come, were another two doors.  A grey concrete served as the floor, and wall color was reddish-brown.  She was on the second floor of the apartment building.  She had found out her address, and now stood there, curling her toes with nervousness, clenching and unclenching her hands.  She hoped Tara was in her new home . . . she hoped she wasn’t.  On the one hand she wanted to get this over with, hopefully melt back in her arms; on the other hand, she really didn’t want to face a rejection.

She lifted her right hand toward the doorbell . . . then stopped.  She slowly closed her right hand again, then suddenly forced it open, and forced her hand to move toward the bell, pushing the button.  She heard the bell ring behind the door, and a part of her want to turn tail and run.  Almost, almost in fact, she went to do exactly that, and she had to put all her effort and will power into forcing her legs to remain standing.

The door opened, and the most beautiful face that Willow ever laid eyes upon appeared in the crack.  It was of course Tara, whose eyes widened for a moment, her body standing a little more erect, and then the eyes narrowed.  Nothing suspicious, or evil, just indifference. “Willow,” Tara said, doing no more than acknowledging Willow’s presence.

Willow’s heart beat in her chest, and she had to show some self-control not to break down and cry, or rush Tara and kiss her passionately.  The whole moment was confusing and painful as all horror.  “H-hello, T-tara . . . I came to say I was sorry,” Willow started, and then losing her trail of thought.  Hadn’t she practiced this ten million times by now?  Shouldn’t she know it by heart?  Why was she suddenly grasping for words?

Tara was the one who spoke up, “Anything else?”

Willow winced as her heart felt like a knife had been stuck into it.  That had come out cold as ice.  “Please give me another chance.  I promise I’m better, I’m not like that anymore.   Would you please give me another chance, one last time, I won’t need any more.”

“And I suppose Faith is suddenly your best friend,” Tara answered her.  It took every ounce of her self-control not to sound sweet and nice as she usually sounded.  She didn’t want to give Willow the wrong impression; not to mention she didn’t want to be suckered in again by some sweet words and those sweet kissable- *Stop it!*

Willow’s mouth opened with shock and pain of Tara’s attack.  She managed to muster her courage and gather herself together, and made a last dish effort, “N-no, I still don’t like Faith . . . and-I-probably-never-will, possibly . . . possibly-because-I’m-too-much-like-her.”   Willow found she babbling out some things - she’d thought she’d let that nervous tick behind her somewhere - she didn’t care, she had to get this off her chest before Tara interjected something, she went on.  “But-she’s-not-to-blame-for-what-I-did.  My therapist told me, made me see.  I was a leech, a-a a sycophant, I was blaming everyone but me; and used the fact that you gave me another chance as some sick validation that I wasn’t bad after all.  God, I feel so horrible.  I see that now, Tara - /me/ - /I’m/ bad.  Not someone else, not Faith, not Xander, no one else’s fault, it wasn’t out of my control, it was me completely.  My own personality, things I have to work on myself in me, to beat them.  All me, no excuses, just me.”

Tara hated it, hated that her heart was so easily fooled by those big tear-filled eyes, that seemed to be so full of genuine sorrow and guilt.  But her heart had been fooled before, and the impulse to take this beautiful girl in her arms and comfort her, and tell her all would be okay, and that she’d still loved her - because she did, goddess damn it, she did it - was almost overwhelming.  But she steeled herself against it, wrestled them down until she had it beat - but not completely, never completely, probably never completely.  “I’m sorry, Will,” Tara said softly, disgusted with herself that she sounded like the sweet girl that was about to take Willow in her arms again, after all.  A bit more cold, she continued, “But no.  I’m not going to enable you again.  A few words aren’t going to do it, you will have to prove you really understand it.  We have to be apart now . . . perhaps always, perhaps love just isn’t enough for us two, perhaps too much has happened, perhaps we’re just not good for each other.”  Willow had tears running down her cheeks now, and Tara had to swallow a lump hard in order to finish.  “We’ll see, I’m just taking things one day at a time, I’m not ruling anything out, I’m not confirming anything either.  Goodbye, Willow.”  Then Tara slowly, gently, closed the door.

Willow’s right hand moved of its own accord to her chest, and grabbed it tightly, as if she was afraid her heart was going to explode and leave a large gaping hole.  She turned back to the direction from whence she came, and struggled in its direction, grabbing the railing for support with her right hand, and putting her left hand in the vacant spot on her chest.  The first sobs wracked her body, and she cried slowly as she forced herself to move toward home - to hell with university.

*****

The Latina angel and current teacher at Sunnydale High walked through the school halls with a light whistle.  She entered the class room where her next class would start in not too long.   Delores had a few preparations to make for this class.  When she looked into the class room, she found Sraosha - dressed in an immaculate business suit - casually half-sitting, half-leaning on her desk, his arms relatedly folding across his chest.  Dona, the blonde looking seventeen-year-old, was sitting on the desk facing the entrance, her legs crossed, and her hands tightly gripping the desk.  The high-school pleaded skirt draped immaculately across her thighs just above her knees.  One didn’t even need to see the look on her face to know she was not amused.  Her face was dark, her hair hanging over her face, and with the mixture of shadow and light falling on her eyes, they seemed to flame red - like in pictures.

“Time grows short,” Dona said just as darkly as she looked, it sounded like she scraped her throat with sand paper.  Delores shivered a little; the normally sweet-looking angel could really look demonic when she wanted to.

“This is not an easy task, Donna.  Even with her mother appearing as one of us to Dawn, and showing myself - there is much damage to bridge,” Delores answered, sighing deeply and walking to her two companions.

“We know,” Sraosha said with obvious understanding.  He casually turned his head toward Delores, and told her, “We have more precise time table.  The human will make his move, somewhere in the next two months.”

“Somewhere?” Delores asked surprised, “That could be tomorrow just as easily as sixty days from now.”

Sraosha shrugged as if to say he couldn’t do any better.  Donna spoke again, every bit as dark as before, “Which is why we’re here.  You need to speed this up, Delores.  You gotta push.  If the Key does not believe, if she’s not ready to call forth the power of God out of her own free will . . . all is lost.”

“I will do my best,” Delores answered solemnly.

“You better . . . this is not like other times,” Donna warned her starkly, and Delores nodded.  Donna and Sraosha got up off of the desk then, and walked out the class room.

*****

It was safe to say, that Delores’ ability to teach the classes following that conversation, was rather compromised.  Oh, she got some stuff done, some things to be taught across to the students, but she was distracted, trying to come up with better and faster ways to get through to Dawn.  The result was, that she didn’t teach as much as she had scheduled in.  Once the school day was over for her, a few hours and several classes later, and the students were leaving the classroom, she was gathering up her things and papers and putting them in her bag.  She was doing so on auto pilot though, still preoccupied, and therefor completely missed Dawn entering her classroom, and waited next to Delores desk.  Dawn was patient, waiting till the students had filed out.

There was another reason that Dawn remained quiet, silently watching Delores pack away her belongings.  Dawn was trying to steadily pierce the veil the angel had around her with her sixth sense.  When Delores had dropped her pretense and glowed a soft light, Dawn had been able to sense the entire angel, feeling very much like her returned mother.  Now though, as before, the angel seemed like an ordinary person on all her senses.  It took Dawn a while, and a lot of focus, but finally the veil seemed to flow open to her; and the seem feeling filtered across her being - nothing demonic, this wasn’t some demon that disguised itself as an angel to fool Dawn.  The moment Dawn pierced the veil, Delores jumped, and turned to look at Dawn.  “Oh!  I hadn’t seen you there.  I’m actually glad to see you, Dawn,” Delores answered, a smile now adorning her face.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you . . . about it all,” Dawn told Delores, a little nervously.   She was still trying to figure this thing out.  For some reason, despite that this seemed like a dream come true, something felt off, and Dawn just couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Of course, take a seat,” Delores answered, and gestured to a desk.  Dawn walked over, pulled the seat out and sat in it; far away from the desk, subconsciously making sure she could get out whenever she wanted.  “Still have questions, huh?”

“Lots,” Dawn said with a light grumbled.  “Could you answer me something?  How are we supposed to know the difference between a false god, even one as powerful as Raiden, and the real gd, especially if that real god doesn’t come down himself?”

Delores smiled, and started, “God works-”

“-in mysterious ways.  Yeah, I’ve been researching, and every time I have relatively difficult question to answer, that’s what pops up.  It’s coming out my nose, I want a straight answer,” Dawn told the angel testily.

“Alright,” Delores answered and thought for a bit.  Then she said, “I don’t think it’s so much of you and others not knowing the difference, it’s that god doesn’t want to jump through hoops and do parlor tricks to get believers.  Faith would be much more precious if it’s simply given, isn’t it?  How would you like to have lots of friends, but they’re only willing to be your friends if you pay them money, you have to make three back flips every day, or are available for intercourse whenever they want to.”

Dawn gave a distasteful look.  “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Dawn said subdued.  She looked down, thinking about it.

Delores said, “As for allowing them to come here - free will.”  Dawn looked up, and Delores gave a shrug.  Dawn remained looking at the Latina for several seconds, then looked back down, thinking.

The angel waited patiently.  After a moment, Dawn looked up, and asked, “My mother; she was an angel, so she’s in heaven, right?”

“Or somewhere on Earth, doing good on assignment, like me,” Delores answered nodding.

“But she’d be happy, not in pain, or suffering, or something?” Dawn asked, nervously, almost with pleading eyes at Delores.

“Of course not,” Delores answered without a moment’s doubt in her voice.  That, more than anything, convinced Dawn, this ‘angel’ and who she was working for had to be good.

After some time, Dawn tried to speak, “I’m . . . that is . . . I mean . . . if I do this, do the whole believing thing . . . is there anything I would need to do, or something?”

“Get baptized, means you affirm your belief to an agent of god, priest, angel, and the agent that scoops some water on your forehead, and says formally that you’re embraced by god as one of his followers,” Delores explained - her voice carefully measured to sound as if nothing was the matter.

Dawn nodded and thought about it some.  “I-I’m sorry, but I’m still not ready,” Dawn answered Delores, almost pained.  “If only I hadn’t seen-”

“I know,” the angel told Dawn compassionately, placing her left hand supportively on Dawn’s knee.  “All you’ve seen of gods is pain and loss, and your friends and sister have vowed their destruction.  It’s not something to shrug of easily, and it’s not supposed to.  But you should remember something, Faith does not consider this Raiden evil, believes in him, you can believe without betraying your friends and family.  You’re growing up, Dawn, and one thing about growing up, is that you make your own decisions, even if they clash with what friends and family have in mind.  And if they are truly your friends and good family, they’ll respect those decisions.”

“That’s true,” Dawn answered weakly.  Then she got up, and said, “Well, I’m going.”

As Dawn started to leave, Delores made a decision.  “Dawn, I should tell you; there’s a danger for you not believing,” the angel said, looking up at Dawn who turned back to look at the angel.  “Time is running short.”

“What type of danger?” Dawn asked sharply.

“I can’t tell you, if I do, and you decide because of it, it’s a violation of believing without coercion.  I can just implore you, make your decision soon,” she told Dawn somberly.  Dawn looked at her for a few more moments, before nodding lightly, and turning away once more.

*****

Tara was rummaging in her bag for her keys as she walked up to her apartment.  She walked the corridor several times now, and hardly needed to look.  Finally she found the keys and the bag compartment, and as she pulled it out, she said, “Hello, Xander.”

“Hey, Tara,” Xander answered, not surprised Tara had known he was there, even though she wasn’t looking up.  He wasn’t hiding his power after all, so it would have been easy to detect.  “I wanted to talk with you.”

“Sure, come on in,” Tara replied as she walked toward the door to her apartment, key out at the height of the look.  She took in Xander, he was leaning against the wall with his back, hands in his pocket, his legs far away from the wall.  He had a troubled look on him.  She looked concerned at him as she opened the door.  Xander stood up and slowly followed her in, his tail subconsciously unfolding from is waste.

Tara noticed it as she held open the door for him, and blinked.  She was pretty sure she could read Xander pretty good, and the unfurling tail would signify he felt comfortable and relaxed inside her apartment, or perhaps her presence.  Which was all sorts of surprising to her - she had never really felt like she and Xander had gotten that close.

Xander took in the narrow hallway that held a coat rack on the left wall.  It had red carpeting and the walls were white.  A door with a lock mechanism - clearly the toilet - was to the right, almost next to the entrance.  To the left, just beyond the coat rack was another door, also carrying a lock mechanism - no doubt the bathroom.  The front door was audibly closed by Tara behind him, as Xander walked forward, passing a door to the right, which he guessed was a closet.  Tara was soon behind him as they entered Tara’s living room.  The wooden couch with large pillows to sit on, was in front of a wooden table, and a small television.  A matching chair was present.  There was an equally wooden cupboard along the far wall.  The entire living room was in subdued earth tones.  In the right near corner was sky-blue-hued kitchen.  There was no door leading to it, just an open doorway, and a cut out wall that was the counter on the other side.  Further to the left of the kitchen, toward the far right corner, was a door, that could only be the bedroom.

“Welcome in p-place,” Tara said, faltering a bit at the last wall as she watched Xander pensively stroke the back of his head.  The gesture seemed almost pained, and he slowly turned around to look at her.  It was something she wasn’t used of him - he was usually completely sure of himself and in charge; when he wasn’t depressed beyond all reason over the death of Anya, of course.  But even then, there was never this kind of subdued sensation coming off of him; Xander was bigger then life, in his humor and making you laugh, and self-sacrifice before the revelation of his true nature, in his practically unimaginable power afterwards, and in his grief over Anya.  This understated pain, and perhaps uncertainty, seemed very unlike him.

“It’s nice,” Xander told her and turned toward her, choosing to remain standing.  Tara felt a little nervous, Xander had always been imposingly tall, and to her experience very fit.   On a man, that had always gotten her nervous - not because of attraction, but past bad experiences with men, and physically and mentally strong men always, to her, held the promise of repeats.   She managed to feel guilty that Xander could still give her that sensation sometimes - he had really proven by now, that he wasn’t like that.

“Yeah, costs a lot though,” Tara told him without any fuss.  “I’m thinking of getting a better paying job, going to a campus room just didn’t feel right.”

“I could unlock your back account for you, with Harmony’s money, you know,” Xander offered, his hands in his pants pocket.

“Nah, I’m thinking of donating it all to charity anyway - I’m not entirely comfortable with the source, and not just the soulless killing machine,” Tara answered him gently, letting the small talk go.

Xander nodded, and said, “Didn’t say anything about it.”

“Hadn’t thought about it,” Tara answered, and put herself in the chair, looking up at Xander, who slowly went to sit on the arm rest of the couch.  As he did that, Tara added, “Novelty of being rich, and then somehow, some when, I did start thinking where the Queen of Las Vegas got her money from.”  Xander nodded.  Suddenly Tara got nervous, and continued, “Th-that doesn’t m-mean I think y-you are bad f-for . . . you know . . . the whole thing . . . a-and not-”

“Yeah, I got it,” Xander interrupted her with a smile, giving her a calming-down gesture, that relieved.  “I actually came for a few things; I haven’t seen you in the gym, since . . . you know.”

“O-oh, don’t worry, I haven’t been slacking off.  I’ve trained, just not, there.  Thought I give Willow a little space for a while.  Since she was here this morning, I don’t think that’s necessary anymore,” Tara replied quickly with large apologetic eyes, surprising she got that out so fast without any stutters.

“Still a team, then?  And friends?” Xander asked, and Tara looked a little hurt.  “It’s just that I had rather hoped you’d contacted us.  We’re, I, are your friends you know.  This break up thing, must have been hard on you too, we’re willing to lend a hand, an ear . . . possibly a shoulder.”  Before Tara could open her mouth, Xander intervened, he somehow knew what she was going to say - instead, he told her, “And you wouldn’t be imposing.”

Tara smiled - warmly - it surprised herself, actually.  “Thank you,” she said, then closed her mouth, as she didn’t really know what to say.

“The break up - if you want to talk about it -” Xander looked at Tara for a confirmation.   She tensed for a moment, and then nodded.  “It was rather sudden, wasn’t it?  I mean, Willow is with a psychiatrist, and all, usually . . .”  Xander was trying to look for the words.

“There is time, multiple offenses, no indication of willing to change, before you break up.  You don’t just walk out like that?” Tara asked him, half looking down, and half up at him.  She felt pained.

“Been going over it yourself?” Xander asked without a bit of accusation.

“Yes,” Tara answered, nodding.  She took a deep breath, feeling like the world was about to swallow her up.  “I’m not . . . angry with her . . . well, I am, but that’s not why I broke up with her.  Xander . . .”

Tara looked up in his eyes, and the Saiyan just looked back gently.  She suddenly understood why Willow, Buffy, and Dawn were always so positive about Xander as a source of strength and confiding there emotions to him.  For a moment she had thought Xander was actually there on Willow’s behalf, but realized now he was there for her.  He was listening, and she knew he could be trusted, first guy she’d trust with some of her most private emotions.  “The a-anger back then . . . wasn’t really anger . . . it was . . . p-panic.  Fear.  Being near Willow felt like I w-was suffocating . . . almost like she was trying to erase my memory again.”  Tara swallowed, feeling both like something lifted off of her chest, as well as more weight landing on her shoulders.  She looked into Xander’s eyes, and he just looked back.   She rubbed her hands across her jeans-clad knees nervously, and then explained, “You know, one reason why Willow went off the deep end in the first place, was because she felt like she couldn’t do anything wrong.  Part of that superiority complex of hers, you know.  And that very thing, that - everything I do is right - the very thing that made it possible, she showed she still had.  I left in blind panic.”

“You think she’s gonna . . .” Xander trailed off.

“N-no, not anymore,” Tara answered quickly.  She paused to take a calming breath, and said, “She was here this morning.  She genuinely sounded guilty - disgusted with herself even. She never sounded like that before, I realized.  B-but . . . Xander; what is a relationship where one partner fears the other, or at least part of her?  I-I d-didn’t even know I felt that way . . . yo-you know?”

“Yeah, I think so . . . which, actually brings us to one of my reasons of being here,” Xander said with a face that was a mixture between a frown and a disarming smile. “Willow’s and Faith’s therapist thinks that he should have all us under his care - except me.”

“He does?” Tara asked somewhat surprised.

Xander nodded, and went to explain, “He says that humans are not meant to be under the constant stress of imminent or actual battle.  Something called ‘combat stress reaction’ pops up, which is probably partly to blame for . . . uh . . .”

“Us going off the deep end?” Tara asked him with a light smile.

“I was trying for a more euphemistic way of putting it,” he said with a grin.  “With us Saiyans it’s the other way around.  The more battle and threat of it we’re in, the better we function, and the less battle we’re in the more problems and depression pop up . . . probably why I was so screwed up before I revealed my secret, huh.”

“Oh,” Tara answered, thinking about it.

“I told him I wouldn’t force anyone, but that I would extend the invitation he gave me,” Xander finished, and then just looked at Tara.

The witch blinked, and then thought about it a bit.  She nodded, and said, “Yeah, it definitely can’t hurt, and some professional help with the ‘Willow conundrum’ might be very helpful.”

Xander smiled, and said, “Willow was always that.”  Tara smiled at Xander.  Then Xander’s mile faltered and he looked down, “Which, I guess, means we’ve arrived at my last subject.”  Tara looked at him expecting.  “Second in command, or rather leadership, we wouldn’t be a team if there was a command.”

“Me?” Tara asked incredulously.

“Can you think of anyone better?” Xander asked, and Tara’s eyes widened at the compliment.  She tried to think of someone - she felt a little shame she couldn’t think of one right away, she felt not humble enough.  Xander voiced Tara’s thoughts, “Willow?  With what she only got since her last therapy session, and told you this morning?  Buffy, who just got out of anorexia?  Dawn, better suited right now, I think, than either Willow or Buffy, but let’s face it, she’s still just very young - and she isn’t you.”

“Wow,” Tara muttered, almost disbelieving, but she had come up with the same reasoning.  She felt herself grow warm inside from the praise.

“If for some reason I’m not present, or can’t fight, you’d have to take charge though,” Xander told her carefully.  “You think you’re up to that.”

“You think the others will . . . fall in line, without telling them?” Tara countered, as she had figured out Xander had no intention of making her essential promotion public.

“No, but they’ll follow.  We’re a team after all,” Xander finished, looking at her.

After a moment, Tara truly smiled, and said, “I can do it.”

*****

Li-Huei’s bedroom

Dawn was lying on Li-Huei’s bed, while the owner, her boyfriend was lying next to her.  Li was talking animatedly.  He was happy as all hell.  He liked his chosen sport, and he could finally be in the same room as his girlfriend again.  “You know, playing football is pretty damn fun,” Li-Huei said with a grin.  “Especially since using a low level chi shield means I don’t really feel any pain when one of the others crash into me.  They feel it though.”

“Hmmhmm,” Dawn muttered, staring up at the sealing, just thinking.

“I’m torn though.  Do you think using chi to the fullest is cheating?” Li-Huei waited a moment for an answer, when he didn’t get it, he elaborated, “What I mean is, with chi I could be so much faster, I could jump clear over people, be much more agile.  It doesn’t really seem fair, but then it’s a skill, an ability.  Everyone could learn it, and there’s no steroids or other drugs involved.  It’s not really any different from someone who was just born to fast and agile to catch, you know?”  Li-Huei paused, and still didn’t get an answer.  “Dawn? . . . *Dawn?*”

“Huh?  Oh . . . uh . . .” Dawn answered, twisting her head toward Li and then her entire body.  Feeling embarrassed creeping up her neck as heat, she’d know she’d be red in no time.   She tried to stammer, “I-I’m here, I’m listening.  F-football . . . right.”

Li-Huei looked piercingly into her eyes, and said, “I was asking whether using my chi to the fullest would be cheating.”

Dawn frowned, and thought hard on the question.  “I’m . . . not sure, actually,” Dawn answered him attempting to will her brain to catch up.  “On the one hand, strictly speaking, it isn’t, but it wouldn’t exactly fair either, would it?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said, thank you for the repeat-service,” Li-Huei told her sarcastically, but without any real bite to it.  Then he asked, half hurt, half humorously, “Isn’t it a rule, that when the boyfriend gets excited, the girlfriend gets excited too?”

Dawn thought about it a moment, and then carefully said, “No.”  She put a disarming smile on her face.

“I think it is.  It’s after we get married you can remain uninterested.  Before we get married you’re supposed to be all happy and excited to lure me onto the isle,” Li-Huei said, once again half-joking.

“Oh, that’s just so . . . so . . .”  Dawn was smiling brightly now.

“Nasty, I know.  Women, eh, what can you do?” Li-Huei commented with a grin.  Dawn gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.  “Ow,” he said, and turned on his side to face Dawn, who was speaking her mind.

“Prejudice,” she corrected with a grumble.

“I was thinking about asking if you wanted to come look at me practice, or god forbid, perhaps even come to a game.  I’ve played several now, you know, and you haven’t been at any of them,” Li-Huei said a little hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Dawn replied, genuinely contrite now, feeling guilty.  “It’s not you, or the sport, I’ve been all wrapped up in stuff.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Li-Huei replied a little hurt.

Dawn leaned forward and planted a scorching kiss on his lips, which quickly involved tongues.  “I’m sorry,” Dawn once more apologized, “I’m going through something, something private, something even I’m not even sure I can put into words.  It’s too freaky.”

“Like what?  I’m guessing it’s worse than demons trying to suck the world into hell, ‘cause you’ve got no problem talking about that,” Li-Huei asked, and waited expectantly. Dawn squirmed uncomfortable.  How did you speak with your Buddhist boyfriend, who according to those teachings was a god along with every human being, about honestly, to goodness, starting to believe in god - /the/ God?  And that you’ve met an actual angel - two, actually, one of them being a mom.  “Well?” Li finally prompted.

Dawn decided to play the male-protective-gene card, and gave him her best, distraught, puppy-dog eyes, and said, “I don’t feel like talking about it yet.  I’ll tell you first, I promise.   Could you just hold me?”

Li-Huei never stood a chance.  “Okay,” he said, and hugged her close to him.

*****

Anya’s grave

Xander and Buffy stood before the tombstone in the grassy graveyard, other tombstones, and grave markers around in neat rows.  The stone they were in front of read, ‘Anya Littica - Beloved wife and friend, she will be missed deeply.  April 14, 821 - June 26, 2002.’

“Last time I was here, that thing came, in her image,” Xander said solemnly, staring at the gravestone.

“Still hurts, huh?” Buffy asked solemnly.  “Her death I mean, not it.”

Xander slowly nodded, and Buffy slung her arm around his waist.  “I’m not sure it will never not hurt, it hurts less, though,” Xander said painfully.

“I remember . . . when I thought Angel was dead . . . when I sent him to hell, it hurt all the months till his sudden return,” Buffy said sympathetically.  Truth be told, Anya’s death had stopped hurting for Buffy, but she was still sad about it, she still missed Anya.  There were even times when someone was jubilant, especially when inappropriate, she thought it was Anya, and realized it wasn’t after all.  “I’m not sure though, it would have hurt for me for one and a half years, counting the time we spent in the past.  I was young then, soo young.  I often wonder whether the love I felt for him then, was actually for him, or the idea of him.”

Xander just nodded, looking down at the grave.  He shook himself from his reverie.   Here Buffy was trying to cheer him up, be supportive, and he barely let himself be moved by it, cod that he was.  “That different with, Chris?” Xander asked, and looked closer at Buffy for a moment.  She actually seemed to be putting on the pounds she’d lost, she didn’t look so thin now, which was quick - the Slayer physiology was putting all it’s effort into getting her back where she should be, it seemed.

“God, yes, I’m so completely, head over heels, in love with the big lug.  No doubt about it, that it’s /him/ I love and not the idea of him.  ‘Cause let’s face it, he’s magnificent, but he’s not exactly fantasy, star-crossed, eternal romance material,” Buffy told Xander with a smile, thinking about her boyfriend.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Xander said lightly, a light smile actually touching his face - which was surprising, given where he was.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, he’s eternal romance material, beautiful eternal romance material, just not the fantasy, star-crossed eternal romance material, he’s the real life eternal romance material,” Buffy decided add, and frowned, thinking about her words.  “Did that make sense, or was I just babbling?”

Xander frowned for a moment, and said, “I think so.”

“What I mean is, when you fantasize, or make a film, or write a book about magnificent romantic love, forbidden love, and love conquers all stuff, with princes and knights, and dragons and the fate of light and darkness in the balance, it isn’t him they put on the cover,” Buffy said with a light smile, and looked at Xander.  “But . . .” she started, trailing of.

Xander finished her sentence, “A girl comes across Chris in real life, she doesn’t stand a chance and falls in love with him?”

“Exactly,” Buffy answered with a happy smile.

“He’s a good influence, and he cares,” Xander offered, thinking about the unassuming guy.  At first, he had rather agreed - silently - with Dawn that this relationship probably went nowhere; saving a guy from a suicide attempt, didn’t seem like a conductive first meeting for a relationship.  But the two seemed to somehow fit together, despite that hurdle.

“He’s a good influence?” Buffy echoed somewhat incredulously.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”  Xander looked at her.  Testily Buffy told him, “I was under the impression I’m with him because I made changes, not the other way around.”

Xander grinned at her, and said, “Right, because he didn’t beat you senseless metaphorically speaking to get you to start eating properly again.”

Buffy blushed, and marveled at how good a full belly really felt.  “Okay, fine, I’m wasn’t Miss Perfect when I met him and dated him.  But if I was still like before, I wouldn’t even have given him light of day.”

“Never said otherwise, I just said he was a good influence,” Xander pointed out, smirking.

Buffy groaned.  Then said, “I’m pathetic.”

“Welcome to the club,” Xander answered her with a smile.  Buffy looked at him.  “Of pathetic people who know and acknowledge they’re pathetic.  I think the only ones of us not pathetic are Dawn and Li-Huei . . . and I used to think Tara, but yesterday she managed to sound quite pathetic and decrying her status as thus, if not in so many words, so I’m not sure.”

Buffy looked at him for a moment, then shook her head, and stepped closer to him. “About being pathetic,” Xander said with a said smile, “Willow’s and Faith’s therapist has extended an invitation to everyone of us except me for some therapy, to prevent and / or deal with Combat Stress Reaction.”

“I don’t need a therapist,” Buffy said a little irritated.

“Of course you don’t, only just beating Anorexia with the help of your boyfriend is so mentally healthy,” Xander said with a straight face.  Buffy looked down.  Xander added, “I told Doctor Wade that I wouldn’t force anyone to go to therapy, and I won’t, but I really think you should.”

Buffy thought about, and after a moment she nodded.

To Be Continued . . .

Next time on Buffy Z: The Beast is healed and once more slaughtering people - and Faith, the only person capable of beating him on her own, is still down and out.  And who’s this seeming ordinary guy they meet and one piece of the puzzle, in Buffy Z - Episode 91: Five More Pieces of the Puzzle.  And the episode after that, Dawn is getting ready to start believing.