Author's Note: As stated above, this is an old response to an old challenge. I don't really remember the guidelines, except that it took place after "The Gift", Buffy is still dead, and she visits each of the Scoobies individually. This is the Xander story.



I haven't slept more than three hours at a time in over a month. I can't. I don't have time. I'm still trying to figure out what went wrong. What did I miss?

She jumped. She landed. She was buried. So, what happened between her sacrifice and her funeral? Where was my moment? My fuck up. Because I know it was there. I just didn't see it.

I used to think I knew what my job was. Giles was a Watcher. Willow and Tara are witches. Spike's a vampire. Anya used to be a demon. And me, I'm the rescue team. They do their job, and I patch them up in the end. Make sure they're still alive when the sun comes up.

Take the Master, for example. Prophecy says that Buffy's going to die. It happens. I do CPR. She comes back and saves the world. So she's gotta close the portal. She does that… She does it.

But I didn't bring her back. My moment was in there somewhere. The moment where I was supposed to go in and do my thing, whatever it might be, so that Buffy could save the world again. So where was it? What did I miss? Because it had to be there.

I pace the length of the couch, my footsteps not making a sound. Anya is asleep in our room. She hasn't been sleeping well either. Nightmares. She won't tell me what they're about though. She just cries out and thrashes around in her sleep.

Left. Right. Left. Right. Turn. One end of the couch to the other. But the movement doesn't make that night any clearer. Clenching my eyes shut, I fall down on the couch and knock on my head with closed fists, hoping to pound the answer into my brain. But all I know is that Buffy's dead, and I missed my chance.

"What? No country music?" My head shoots up at the sweet, familiar voice to see the most amazing thing I've ever laid eyes on. She is leaning against the opposite wall, wearing the same thing she was wearing the night she died, and her eyes wash over me with a soft smile on her face.

"You're too good for country music," I whisper. "You always were."

She laughs a little. "I'm sure there are some people that would disagree with you on that."

"Well," I inform her, "they would be wrong." Taking a deep breath, I can't stop the tears that slip from my eyes. "I'm so sorry," I choke out. "I'm so sorry I didn't save you."

She shakes her head, a small smile on her lips. She steps forward, her appearance slightly transparent. But when she reaches out to wipe away my tears, I swear I can feel her warmth. But I know I'm just feeling things. "It wasn't your responsibility… to save me." She takes an unneeded breath while thinking of how to continue. "I spent a long time feeling guilty for the people I couldn't save. But I realized it was pointless.

"See, there's this thing called fate. Some people say destiny, others Kismet. It's something that was pointed out to me in big neon lights as soon as I kicked the bucket." Smiling, she grabs my hand, and I feel that warmth again, only this time, it's unmistakable as it radiates from her touch and her eyes. "Our whole lives are planned out for us from the moment we're born. Before that even. And so everything that happens in our life is according to plan. Whether we miss the bus or avert an apocalypse, it's already written out.

"So it's not our fault if the moment isn't there. It's not our mistake if we miss a chance that we really never had. It's fate. It's a part of the plan. And we can't change it. And we'll just drive ourselves crazy trying to change it or rationalize it. There's no escaping it. And there's no point blaming yourself for it." She reaches up and brushes some of my hair back, and I lean into the ghost of her touch.

"That's easy for you to say," I whisper. "You're not missing you like I am."

She sits back with a nod. "True. But I am missing you. I miss everyone."

"Yeah," I say, smiling slightly as I brush away my last stray tears. "You're also missing some great late-night TV." To prove my point, I turn on the television, flipping channels until I find an old Godzilla movie.

With a grin, she turns to the television and snuggles into me. And it feels just like old times.

We stay that way for hours, until the sun is about to rise, and I'm fighting off sleep.

"You'll be fine, Xander," she tells me. "You're going to have a wonderful life, because you're a wonderful man." Her voice is soft, almost dream-like, and it starts to fade from my mind as sleep draws closer.

"I don't want you to leave me," I tell her, trying to stay awake. But I'm not doing so hot as my eyes close for the last time. But I feel a warmth on my skin as she places a kiss on my forehead, and an encompassing warmth on my soul as she whispers in my ear.

"I'll never leave you, Xan. I'll always be with you. And I'll always love you."

The next thing I know, it's 10 a.m. and I'm waking up in my bed, with Anya in my arms. And I wonder if it was all just a dream. But I feel like a weight has been lifted off of me. I feel at peace. I feel Buffy. And I know she's okay.

End