The Choice

Spoilers: everything up to and including some various stuff from the 4th season

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns everything

It was almost like he was in the middle of a nightmare.  Blackness 

filled the air about him, noise cluttered the space nearby him, and 

images swirled all around him.  Nevertheless, and despite the 

immediate traffic that threatened to enter his mind and slowly drive 

him insane, there was one picture that stood out clearly in his 

head.  One picture that would haunt him `til his dying day.  One 

picture that was more horrific than anything he had ever imagined, 

yet was there all the same.

His best friend.

Or his fiancée.

The man shook his head with a ferociousness that he had not known he 

possessed.  There was no way.

He would not do it.  He could not do it.

And yet it was there.

Waiting for him to decide.

He looked wildly about him, his breath coming out in jagged rasps.  

There was nothing he could do.

And yet there was.  He had to . . .

*Willow, Anya, Willow, Anya, Willow, Anya . . .*

His eyes darted around wildly, his head felt like it would explode, 

his heart felt like it would jump out of his chest . . .

And yet . . .

*Willow, Anya, Willow, Anya . . .  It isn't fair!  I can't do it!  I 

can't!  Willow, Anya, Willow, Anya . . . What did I ever do to 

deserve this? What did I do?!  Someone please tell me, and I'll . . . 

Willow, Anya, Willow, Anya . . . I'll take it all back!!!*

But it was too late.  There was nothing that could be done.  This 

wasn't a nightmare.  Not even a dream.  It was real.  And seconds 

were ticking by.

*Willow, Anya, Willow, Anya . . .*

His chest was going to erupt.  He could feel it.  Feel his heart 

beating so fast . . . his breath coming in erratic rasps . . . 

*Willow, Anya, Willow, Anya . . . Willow.*

And then there was no more waiting.  The man plunged forward through 

the misty black, the overbearing noise, the intense and yet 

forgettable images . . . he plunged forward and he saved her life.

The only life he could never . . .

A harrowing scream filled the air.

He had made his choice.

The scream filled his raging heart, moved on to his battered soul, 

and pierced his very eardrums.

It was deafening.

He had made his choice.

And now she was gone.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

There were people all around him.  Looking at him with sympathetic 

eyes, touching him with sensitive hands.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Listen, man, it'll get better."

"Maybe you should go home and take a nap."

"Would you like a glass of water?"

He shook them all off, told them he was fine.  Wanted nothing more 

than to be alone.

And then she entered the room.

"Xander?" she walked swiftly up, her eyes full of concern.  "Xander, 

are you okay?  Come on.  I'm going to take you home."

She helped him to his feet, got him his jacket, and placed him safely 

in her car.

And then she drove him away from the wake.  The wake that had been 

held in honour of his fiancée.  The wake that he couldn't save her 

from.

SIX MONTHS LATER

A lot had changed in the last few months.  After Anya's death, things 

had been strained to say the least. It was as if his friends were 

walking on egg shells around him.  He knew they were all trying to 

avoid doing or saying anything that might have the least negative 

effect on him.  Still, it got old.  There should be some kind of law 

that says `when a person suffers a tragedy, you must keep acting the 

same around them.'  At least that way he would have been able to 

forget that anything had happened.

Willow had been the worst.  He knew that she blamed herself.  Not 

that he would expect anything less from his Wills.  Still, he had 

needed her support the most.  And because of the guilt factor, she 

wasn't there to give it to him.

Not at first, anyway.

After a few months of the `we have to spare poor Xander' treatment, 

he couldn't take it anymore.  He had exploded.  Told them all just 

how old it was getting, and that it wasn't doing anything to help.

They were shocked.  He knew they would be.  After all, they were only 

trying to help, and here he was, yelling and accusing.  He knew he 

should feel bad, but he really felt nothing more than relieved.  At 

least now it would be over.  And he had spoken his mind.

It took awhile for his friends to come around and realize that he 

hadn't meant to hurt them or make them mad.  But when they did, it 

was terrific.  Buffy began taking him on patrols (she had avoided it 

before because it had everything to do with death); Giles began 

asking him to research demons; and Willow became her old self again.  

Well, minus the blame factor.  Because he knew that deep down, and no 

matter what she said, she still blamed herself.

Still, she was his Wills.  Even more so than before.  Because he now 

had the time to spend with her.  And spend it he did.  It felt like 

old times.  They called each other every night, talking about the 

day's activities; went to parties and made fun of people who actually 

had dates; and performed their Scoobie Gang activities.

Xander had to smile to himself.  Yup, it was good to be with his 

Wills again.  Even though the searing pain was still positioned 

firmly in the middle of his chest.

"Xander!" she said happily.  "I didn't know you were coming over 

tonight."

He grinned his patented grin.  "Oh, come on.  You didn't think I'd 

let you spend a night alone, did you?  You know me better than that."

Willow giggled.  "I should have known . . . oh, why don't you come 

inside?"

"I thought you'd never ask."  Xander stepped through the threshold, 

and immediately plopped himself onto the couch.  "So, what're we 

gonna do tonight?"

Willow shrugged.  "I guess we could watch a movie.  How `bout, 

uh . . ."  She paused, an uncomfortable expression coming over her 

pale features.

Xander raised his eyebrows.  "What's up, Wills?  You look like you 

just swallowed one of Giles' home-made scones."

The redhead looked up, a guilty expression replacing the 

uncomfortable one.  "Oh, uh, nothing . . . Actually, Xander, I kinda 

have some homework to do tonight.  You think we can do this tomorrow 

instead?"

A stone took residence in Xander's stomach. *No.  Come on, Wills, 

don't do this . . .*  "You're doing it again, aren't you?" he asked, 

a little more roughly than he had intended.

Willow looked down squeamishly at the floor.  "What do you mean?"

He shot up from the couch.  "You know exactly what I mean, Willow.  

You're doing it again.  You're acting like I'm some kind of an 

invalid."

Willow still couldn't bring herself to meet Xander's eyes.  She 

didn't want him to see the tears forming in her own.

Xander took a few steps forward.  "I'm not an invalid, Willow.  My 

fiancée died, okay?  I didn't contract herpes, or find out that I've 

got two weeks to live.  Anya died.  Why do you guys have to treat me 

like I'm some kind of freak?"

"Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?" Willow said shakily, 

finally meeting his hurt brown eyes with her own heart-broken blue 

ones.  "It's all my fault, Xander.  All my . . . I was the one who 

tracked that demon, okay?"  Tears began streaming down her face.  "I 

was the one who dragged you guys along with me.  If it hadn't been 

for me, Anya would still be alive."

Xander's face softened, and he moved to place an arm around his best 

friend's shoulders.  "It wasn't your fault, Wills."

Willow wrenched away from the man she had known since childhood.  She 

didn't deserve his touch. "It WAS my fault, Xander," she snapped.  

She paused for a long moment, then whispered, "And I'm still alive."

Xander, who had been studying the carpet of Willow's living room, 

jerked his head up so that he could stare at his best friend.

"You saved me, Xander," Willow continued, her words an 

accusation.  "You saved me, and you let her die."

"Willow, please," he begged.  

"Why am I still alive, Xander?"

He couldn't listen anymore.  She had to stop.  She had to stop now.

But she wouldn't.  "Why, Xander?  Why did you let her die?"

"Shut up!" Xander snapped, placing his hands over his ears.  "Don't 

you think I would have saved her if I could have?  Don't you know 

that the pain is almost unbearable?"  Tears began to stream down his 

face now.  "I let my fiancée die, Willow.  I let her die.  I could 

have saved her and I didn't."

"Why, Xander?" Willow's voice came out strangled.  "Why didn't you 

save her?  Why??"

"Because," he choked . . ."Because I could either . . . it was either 

her or you, Willow . . .  I chose you."

That was all Willow could hear.  All she could take.  Her legs gave 

out on her, she collapsed to the floor, and her body curled itself up 

into a ball as she sobbed uncontrollably.

It was almost like he was in the middle of a nightmare.  He didn't 

know what to do, which way to turn, what path to take.  Finally, he 

made a choice.  He flopped down next to his best friend in the world 

and pulled her into his lap.

"No . . . let me go," she choked out between sobs, trying frantically 

to get out of his arms.

"Never," he informed her.  "Never, do you hear me?"

"Please!" she choked.  "Please, Xander!!"  She pulled harder and 

harder, but each time his arms just wound tighter and tighter.

"I'm not going to let go, Wills.  I need you too badly."

"You don't need me.  You need her."

"No, Willow," he replied emphatically.  "I need you.  I have always 

needed you.  Please, Wills.  I need you to be strong for me.  I know 

it isn't fair to ask, but I don't know who else to turn to.  You're 

the only person I've ever had."

Willow shook her head violently.  "That's not true.  You had . . . 

you had Anya.  But I ruined that.  I brought her into danger, and 

you . . . you chose me . . . " Once again, she tried to move out of 

Xander's lap, but he held her firmly in place.  She tried a second, a 

third, and a fourth and final time, but each instance he refused to 

let her go.  Finally, the struggling redhead had to settle with 

whipping around so that she could face him.  Boring holes into his 

eyes with her own, she strangled out, "WHY, Xander?  WHY did you 

choose me over her?"

"Because," he choked, his eyes never wavering from hers for a 

moment, "I couldn't live without you.  I love you, Willow."

"No!" Willow shot out of his arms, taking advantage of his momentary 

weakness.  "Don't say that."

Xander stood up, moving so that he was just inches from his beloved 

best friend.  "I mean it, Willow.  I love you."

Now it was Willow's turn to place her hands over her ears.  "No!!" 

she shouted.  "No, nO, No, NO, NOO,  NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

With gentle hands and tears in his eyes, Xander moved her hands from 

her ears.  "Why can't I love you, Wills?" he asked softly.

"Because," she sobbed.  "I deserve . . . to die," she choked out.

Xander smiled gently.  "No, you don't."  

"Give me one good reason why I should still be alive?"

"It wasn't your fault."

"That isn't good enough, Xander."

"Yes, it is, Wills.  It has to be." 

"But it's Anya's . . ."

Xander reached forward and placed a finger on Willow's 

lips.  "Shhh . . ." he whispered, then took his struggling best 

friend into his arms.  "Listen to me, Willow.  You are the best 

person I have ever known.  You don't deserve to die.  You deserve to 

be happy."

"How?" she sobbed

Xander shrugged.  "I don't know," he replied honestly.  "This isn't 

easy for me, either, Wills.  But I think it would be a lot easier if 

we figured it out together."

Willow stopped struggling, and her sobs gradually decreased until 

they stopped all together.  After what seemed like an eternity, she 

pulled away from Xander and looked up into his questioning brown eyes.

"I need you, too, Xander," she whispered.  "I – I'm so confused."

"Don't worry, Wills.  We're gonna get through this together."

"Together?"

Xander nodded firmly.  "Always."

"Why?"

"Didn't I already answer that one?" he smiled lovingly.  "Because I'm 

in love with you, Willow.  I always have been and I always will be."

Tears began to reform themselves in Willow's eyes.  "Xander?" she 

whispered.

"Yeah?" he said softly.

"I love you, too."

The End