When the Embers Die

Distribution: Anyone who wants it can have it.  Just lmk where you're taking it.
Classification: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: This story is a sequel to Laura Smith's NC-17 story, "Campout."  If you're not legally allowed to read that story or you don't want to take the time, email me and I'll give you a brief summary of it.

As Willow let herself in through the front door, Xander spoke up from behind her.  “Hey, Will, thanks again for letting me crash at your place for the night.  I really don’t want my parents bitching at me any more about my lack of a life.”

Willow shook her head.  “Xander, you’re always welcome in my house.”  < In my room, in my bed. . . >  She blushed deeply as the memories overcame her and her hand faltered on the knob.

“Will?”  She shook herself from the trance she’d fallen into and entered the house.

“Just thinking, Xand.”  The two made their way upstairs to Willow’s room and Willow set about preparing the extra bed.  Her parents had bought it years and years ago, when it became evident that Xander would be a regular guest in their home.  “Do you ever miss this?  Just you and me, all set for a sleep-over?”  The question came out of the blue and stunned both of them with its innocence.

“All the time, Will,” Xander replied, somewhat sadly.  He watched the soft curve of her shoulder as she smoothed the sheets and blanket over the twin bed.  His gaze traveled down along the smooth line of her back and the gentle swell of her hip.  His throat worked convulsively as he ached to grab her and hold her tightly to him.

Willow tried not to think about his eyes on her back as she finished making the bed.  < Damn it, Xander, why are you making me feel this way? > she silently ground out.  < How in the hell am I supposed to sleep in the same room as you, knowing what it feels like to have you buried inside me?  How am I supposed to forget knowing that you made love to me?  I can’t do it! >  Taking care to avoid displaying her inner turmoil, she straightened and turned around.  “Ready for some ice cream?” she asked with an impish grin, ignoring the longing in his eyes and quelling the same in her own.

“When have you known me to turn down ice cream?” Xander replied in disgust.  He shook his head.  “Stop hanging around for a few months, and your best friend forgets everything about you.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Xander.”  The words came out softly, accompanied by a hint of pain.

“No, you chose to ignore it.”  Bitterness laced his words, and he turned his back on her.  She sighed as she watched him descend the stairs.  < Better keep the memories, Rosenberg.  You’re never getting near him again. >  She followed him and entered the kitchen, where she saw him rummaging in her freezer, as comfortable in her home as he was in his own.  “Do you have any Triple Caramel Crunch?” he asked, his previous words forgotten.

“Check the Ben and Jerry’s reserve in the freezer in the garage,” she told him, and he was gone.  She pulled out the french vanilla and grabbed a spoon.  Xander returned bearing two pints of ice cream.

“I couldn’t decide between Triple Caramel Crunch and Phish Food,” he explained at her bemused look.  “So I just brought them both.  I figured I’d eat them both anyway.”

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you *ask* if you could eat all our ice cream,” she mentioned.  “You just take it and assume it’s okay with us.”  Xander set the two cartons down, a hurt look crossing his face.

“I’ll put it back,” he promised quietly, all the amusement and good cheer gone.  Willow felt her heart sink.

“Xander, I didn’t mean it that way,” she protested, almost as quietly as he had.

“S’okay, Will, I don’t feel like eating ice cream anymore, anyway,” he muttered.  He stuck the two pints in the freezer, and watched as she returned her own carton of vanilla.

“Why do we do this to ourselves?” she asked, sighing.

“’Cause we like ice cream,” Xander replied, being deliberately dense about what she was really asking.

“I don’t mean why do we go on binges, I mean why do we hurt each other?” she clarified.  “Are we ever going to be okay again?”  < Night before last was *way* more thank okay, Wills, > her mind taunted.  < Most okay you’ve ever been in your life. >  She shook her head, flinging the voice from her mind.

“Sure we will, Will.”  He grinned faintly.  “All we have to do is forget everything.”

< If only I could! > she groaned inwardly.  “It’s not that easy, Xander,” she reminded him with a sigh.  “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.  I’m tired.”  She went upstairs and took out her sleepshirt.  She tossed Xander a pair of sweats and a tee shirt from her bottom drawer.  “You left these last time,” she explained quietly at his look of horror.  “They’re yours.  Not Oz’s.”  She knew even before he protested that he thought she expected him to wear her boyfriend’s clothes.  Xander went into the bathroom to get changed while she quickly slipped into the comfortable UCLA shirt her parents had bought her, as well as her Scooby Doo boxers.  She crawled into bed and waited for Xander to return.  When he came in he was only wearing the pants and Willow’s breath caught at the sight of his muscular chest.

“Too hot for the shirt,” he muttered, not looking at her.  He slipped under the covers of the spare bed and she switched off the light.  They both stared at the ceiling in the darkness, neither saying a word.

“Well, I think yesterday went really well,” Willow ventured when it became apparent that Xander wasn’t going to speak to her.  “We got along, we made some progress, and we’re starting to work as a team.”  She refused to let her mind enter forbidden territory.  Her night of passion with Xander, the one thing that she would never forget as long as she lived, didn’t exist.  It never really happened.  She’d created the temporal fold that sent them back to before it happened.  But just because it didn’t happen, didn’t mean she’d ever forget it.

“Yeah, it was good,” Xander agreed after a moment’s pause.  < Boy, was it ever! > Willow’s mind teased her.  She growled in frustration at the constant reminders, and Xander was up in a flash.  “Will, are you okay?” he asked frantically.  “You didn’t see anything, did you?  There’s nothing out there?”

“It’s okay, Xander,” she replied faintly, her heart pounding at his nearness.  He sat down on the bed beside her.  “Nothing out there.  Just some bad thoughts.”

“Oh.”  He lowered his body so that it lined up with hers.  He rested his head on the pillow, and she scooted down the bed until hers slipped down onto his chest.  Willow could feel the taut skin pressed to her cheek, and the undeniably sexy, masculine scent of him filled her nostrils.  She was overwhelmed.

“Xander,” she breathed.  She wanted to kiss him.  She wanted to strip both of them down until there was nothing between them, and she wanted him to make love to her all night long, never stopping and never leaving her, ever again.

Xander had other thoughts.  “What do you think Faith is gonna do?” he asked speculatively.

“Faith?”  Willow blinked.  Faith was definitely the *last* person on her mind right now.

“Yeah.  Do you think she’ll stick with us, or do you think she’s gonna head over to the Dark Side?”

“Frankly, Xander, I don’t care,” Willow pouted.  “I hate her, if she joins the Mayor then we just get to kill her, and that makes Willow a happy camper.”

“Come on, Wills, you don’t mean that,” Xander protested.

“You’re right,” Willow admitted reluctantly.  “I couldn’t kill her.  But Buffy could.”

“She and Buffy seemed to get along on the trip,” Xander mused.  “She actually got along with Cordelia, and Oz, and Wesley and Giles, even.  She seemed to want to help.”

“That’s a first,” Willow snorted.

“Yeah, well, that trip brought about a lot of ‘firsts,’ didn’t it, Wills?” he asked, his tone deceptively soft.  Willow’s heart thundered in her chest.

“What do you mean?” she whispered.  She felt him rise above her, and she had to blink when he clicked on her reading light, flooding their faces in a moon-like glow.

“Come on, Willow.  You didn’t expect me to forget that easily, did you?”  Amusement laced his voice.  “We’re joined.  We’re part of each other.  You remember.  And I was there.  I couldn’t forget that.”

“Forget what?” she croaked in fear, and just a bit of excitement.

“I was your first lover, Wills.  I’ll be your last.  And I’ll be your only.”

And as Willow gave herself up to the kiss, she knew he spoke the truth.

The End