Denial

Rating: PG

Timeline: Third season, post Fluke.

Distribution: If anyone actually wants it, I'd be tickled pink to hear about it. 

Spoilers: General spoilers about the Fluke.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and I'm not making any money off them.

Dedications: To Jen, Vic, Meg and Dot, my beta-babes.

He's better off without me.

I keep telling myself that. Maybe one of these days I'll manage to believe it. Not yet, though. I feel like I've cut my own heart out. I feel like I'm missing a piece of my soul.

Xander feels the same way. I know he does. Every time I see the pain in his eyes, I want to cry. I want to hold him and make it better. But I can't. I don't have the right to cry. I don't have the right to hold him. I can't make it better. I'm the one who hurt him.

He's better off without me. There just isn't any other way. I have to believe that, but I can't. I've done nothing but hurt Xander for the past few months. I hate myself for hurting him, but I can't seem to stop.

It started when we kissed. Our first kiss was wonderful. It was everything I've always known kissing Xander would be. I felt complete for the first time in my life. But as soon as we stopped, the pain and the confusion started. I couldn't believe what I'd done. What we'd done.

I knew we couldn't do it again. Xander knew it, too. We tried to stop, we really did. But we couldn't. We kissed again, and again, and again.

When Spike kidnapped us, we truly thought we were going to die. Impending death situation. It was our first kiss all over again. It was wonderful. I didn't feel guilty at all.

Then I looked up and saw Oz and Cordelia and I've felt guilty and horrible ever since.

The worst part, the part that I hate myself for, is that I forgot about Xander. I was so focused on getting Oz to trust me again that I didn't even notice how much pain Xander was in. He used to be my best friend. For a long time he was my only friend. He's been there for me every day of my life. He's my Xander.

No. He was my Xander. Not anymore. I threw what we had away without even thinking twice. Without thinking about his feelings or about how much I was hurting him.

God, I told him he couldn't touch me anymore! How could I do that to him? I might as well have ripped his heart out. It would have hurt him less.

Xander needs to touch me. I've known that for years now. He's always tried to play it cool, pretend it doesn't mean anything, but I know him too well. I know how much it means to him.

He touches me because he needs to remind himself that I'm real. He needs to remind himself that someone in the world cares about him, cares whether he lives or dies. He needs to remind himself that someone loves him. He doesn't get that kind of reassurance at home. He never has. His father is a worthless drunk. His mother cares about him, but not as much as she should. Not as much as he needs her to. His Uncle Rory loves him, but he's not around often enough. All his life, I've been the only one he could turn to when he needed to be reassured that he mattered, that he counted, that he was deserving of love and respect.

The past few years it's been even more than that for Xander. Ever since we met Buffy, he's touched me even more often. Casual touches, like always. A quick hug goodnight, an arm around my shoulders between classes, his fingers playing with my hair. He's always loved to play with my hair. But he's done it more often since Buffy came. Since the night I almost died. The night Jesse died. He's never told me, not in words anyway, but I know how afraid he was that night. Not afraid for himself. Afraid for me. He was afraid he was going to lose me, and ever since then he's touched me even more than he used to. He needs to know that I'm still here for him, that I haven't left him alone.

But I have. That's exactly what I did when I gave up on our friendship to go back to Oz. I never meant to choose between the two of them. I swear I didn't. When Xander and I first got caught, all I could think about was the pain in Oz's eyes. I couldn't live with myself knowing that I'd hurt him like that, so the only thing that was important to me was making it up to him, making him love me again. Making myself worthy of his love again.

And somewhere along the way, I lost Xander. No. I didn't lose him. I let go of him. I abandoned him. He was hurt just as badly as Oz, but I wouldn't let myself see it. And in my blindness I hurt him even more. All he wanted to do was be my friend again, to rebuild the friendship that's been the only thing we could count on for our entire lives. He just wanted to be my Xander again, but I wouldn't let him. I turned my back on him, I threw away the most important relationship I've ever had. I threw him away and I didn't even notice.

It wasn't until Buffy took me aside to talk to me about it that I realized how much I was hurting Xander. I used to know everything about Xander. I used to be able to read his moods like a book. But I was so obsessed with making it up to Oz, with redeeming myself in his eyes, that I didn't notice that I was hurting Xander.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't let myself go to him, comfort him, because I was afraid of what Oz would think. I love Oz. I love him so much. But somehow I convinced myself that loving Oz meant giving up Xander. Somehow I convinced myself that I had to choose between the two of them.

I chose Oz.

I should've chosen them both. I know that now. Letting myself believe that I had to cut Xander out of my life was the worst thing I've ever done.

No. That's not true. The worst thing was when I screamed at him. When I let him think I hated him.

We'd been getting better. Somehow, Xander put his pain aside and rebuilt our friendship. Or started to, anyway. He stopped avoiding me, stopped letting me get away with avoiding him. He talked to me, talked at me really, telling me how his day had gone. Telling me about classes, and training with Buffy, and what his Uncle Rory was up to. All the things I would've already known everything about if we'd still been friends.

He was so patient. I didn't let myself respond for a long time. I was so afraid of what Oz would think if I started talking to Xander again. I ignored Xander for a long time, but he didn't let that stop him. And he never pushed me farther than I could go. He kept it light and simple and meaningless. He never touched me. I know how much he must've wanted to touch me, but he never did.

And it worked. I started talking to him again. Short conversations. Nothing important, but then, talking about nothing important was always what we were best at, always when we were happiest. I let myself smile a little bit when I saw him coming. I stopped throwing myself at Oz every time Xander walked into the room. I started believing I could have them both in my life again. It was a wonderful feeling, and I owe it all to Xander.

And then I ruined it.

It was last Friday. Study hall, last period of the day. Xander and I were both in the library. We were alone, but I wasn't nervous. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't nervous about being alone with him. It felt wonderful.

The reason I wasn't nervous was Oz. During lunch, he asked if he could talk to me in private. I thought we were heading for some smooching, but he really did want to talk. About Xander.

As soon as he said Xander's name, I got scared. I was afraid he was going to dump me, accuse me of going after Xander again. But he didn't. He just wanted to let me know that he'd seen how I acted around Xander, and that I didn't have to be like that. He wanted to let me know that it was okay for me to be friends with Xander. He wanted to let me know that he trusted me.

I cried. As soon as Oz told me that, I started to cry like a baby. Because he loved me, and because he understood how important Xander is to me, and because he trusted me. Oz held me until I was done crying, and I thanked him. I thanked him for holding me, and for loving me, and for trusting me. And I thanked him for letting me have my friend back.

That afternoon, I was in a better mood than I'd been in for weeks. I wasn't scared anymore. Not until I went into the library last period and saw Xander sitting there.

I wasn't scared of Xander, or of anything he might do. I wasn't scared of Oz's reaction. I was scared of myself. I was scared I'd mess it up, ruin the friendship that Xander had worked so hard to rebuild. I'd fought him every step of the way, but he'd made himself my friend again despite my best efforts to push him away. I was terrified that I was going to ruin that somehow. So when I got to the library, I didn't talk much. I couldn't talk. I was afraid to say anything. But I smiled a lot. I wanted Xander to know I was glad to see him, and he did. He knew. I could tell by the way he smiled back at me.

That reassured me. I decided to take it slow, maybe talk to Buffy about it, get her advice. And in the meantime, I'd just let myself enjoy being with Xander, even if I couldn't bring myself to talk to him.

The period went by quickly. I spent most of it on the computer, researching a prophecy Giles was worried about. Xander put away books and whittled stakes. We didn't talk much, but that was okay. It felt like the old days, when we could sit together comfortably for hours without saying a word. It felt good to have that back.

When the final bell rang, for some reason it reminded me of a website I'd been meaning to check. The URL was in my notebook, which was on the table next to Xander, so I asked him to bring it over to me. He jumped up and brought it over, and I smiled my thanks. I hope he saw how happy I was in that smile, I hope it made him happy to see me like that, because right after that is when I ruined it all. I'd like him to have a happy memory to look back on, but I think I hurt him too much for that.

It was my fault. I turned back to the computer and I didn't even notice at first when he touched my hair. He always touches my hair. I like it when he touches my hair. When I noticed, I smiled for a second, glad that he felt comfortable enough to do that again. It had been a long time since he'd played with my hair, and I'd missed it. Oz plays with it a lot, but it isn't the same.

It was thinking of Oz that did it, thinking of Oz when Xander was touching me. I panicked. I forgot everything. I forgot about Oz taking me back. I forgot about Xander making it clear he only wanted to be friends. I forgot about Oz telling me he trusted me. I was back in the factory. All I could see, all I could think about, was the look in Oz's and Cordelia's eyes, and the horror and the shame I felt.

I screamed and jerked away from Xander, yelling "Don't touch me!" I jumped out of my chair and turned to look at him. I was going to yell again, but when I saw his eyes all I wanted to do was cry.

He was lost. He didn't know why I'd reacted like that. Seeing his confusion brought me crashing back to reality, and I didn't know either. All I knew was that I'd hurt Xander again, hurt him even worse than before. I started to cry and I ran out of the library.

I don't know where I was going. Away from Xander, away from the pain I'd caused him, the pain I always cause him. That's the worst thing I could've done just then, but I didn't realize it at the time. I just wanted to get away from Xander so I wouldn't hurt him anymore, but I know now that he must have thought I hated him.

Right down the hall from the library, I ran into Oz. He was coming to give me a ride home, and as soon as he saw me crying he pulled me into his arms and held me. I couldn't talk for a long time. He asked me questions, asked me why I was crying, but I couldn't answer him. He just kept asking, more insistent, asking what was wrong. Finally, I calmed down enough to tell him it was Xander.

That was the wrong thing to say. He thought Xander had hurt me, and when I told him that wasn't it, that Xander would never hurt me, he didn't believe me. I told him it was my fault, but I didn't want to talk about it. He finally accepted that, but I don't think he believed me. I'm not sure what to think.

We've been more distant since then, Oz and I. It's difficult again, just like it was when we first got back together. But we'll get through it. I know we will.

I wish I could say the same about me and Xander. Actually, I'll bet I can. I'll bet he'd forgive me even now if I went to him and explained what happened, explained that I just panicked and didn't mean to hurt him. He's Xander. Of course he'd forgive me if I asked him to.

But I can't do that. Because it'll just happen again. I'll just end up hurting him again, and again, and again. I can't do that to him, I just can't. He deserves better than that. He deserves better than me.

Letting go of Xander is the hardest thing I've ever done. I have to see him every day. I have to see him and let him think I don't care about him. It hurts so much. Every time I see him I want to throw myself at him, beg him to forgive me. But I can't do that, because he would. I can't let him forgive me. I don't deserve to be forgiven. I have to remember that.

Last night was the worst yet. We were researching the Amulet of K'un L'un. I was reading in Jacob Naismith's journal and getting nowhere, but something he wrote reminded me of a passage I'd read in the _Necronomicon_ that I thought might help. I put down the journal and looked around the table for the _Necromonicon_.

Xander had it. I just looked at it for a minute. I couldn't bring myself to ask him for it. I couldn't talk to him. It would've hurt too much. So I just looked at my hands and asked "Who's got the _Necronomicon_?"

I might as well have stabbed one of Buffy's stakes through Xander's heart. He didn't say a word, he just grabbed the book and put it down in front of me. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I just waited until his hand was far enough away and reached out and grabbed the book. I had to make sure I didn't touch him. If I'd touched him, I would've started crying. If I'd touched him, I would've let him forgive me.

It'll get easier. It has to. Not for me, for Xander. It won't get any easier for me, not ever. I don't deserve it anyway. But eventually it'll get easier for Xander. Eventually he'll forget about me and have a chance to be happy, to be truly happy. I have to remember that, because all I want is for him to be happy again. I have to remember that the only way that can happen is if I'm not part of his life.

He's better off without me.

I have to believe that.

********

I close my journal and wipe my eyes. I didn't cry as much this time. Maybe that's a good sign, but I don't think it is. I want to cry. I can't be with my best friend. I want to cry for the rest of my life. I want to cry and scream and run over to Xander's house and throw myself into his arms, but that's the one thing I can't do.

I get up off the bed and put the journal away, then look around for something, anything, to distract me. No luck. Every single piece of my room reminds me of him. There's the dent in the wall from when Xander, Jesse and I were wrestling and Xander fell off the bed. There's the burnt spot on the carpet from when Xander knocked over my candle last year. There's the frog Xander won for me at the carnival when we were eight. There's the pictures of me and Xander on my dresser.

I should take those down, put them away somewhere. Looking at them hurts so much. But it's a good pain, and it's all I have left of him, so I know I'll never take the pictures down. This is going to hurt for the rest of my life, but that's okay. As long as Xander can be happy again, and as long as I can remember when I was happy too.

I shake my head in a futile attempt to think of something else. He's better off without me. Maybe if I keep saying that I'll believe it someday. But I know I never will. I know that if I asked Xander, he'd tell me that he doesn't care about the pain I've caused him. He'd tell me that all he wants is to have his Willow back. I know that because all I want is to have my Xander back. I want that so badly.

But I can't let that happen. I don't deserve him. I know I don't. I don't deserve to be his friend. Even if he'd never agree with me, I know that it's true.

I have to let him go, but I don't think I ever truly will.

No! Stop thinking like that, Willow. Do something to take your mind off of it.

I grab my bookbag and drop it on my desk, over the spot where Xander and I carved our initials in the fourth grade. Maybe doing some homework will take my mind off of him. I open my bag and pull out my books and papers. Physics? No, that's not due until Wednesday. Calculus is due Monday, I'll do that first.

As I open my Calculus notebook, a packet of papers falls out. I bend down and pick it up. It's the test from last Monday, Mrs. Boyea gave it back to us yesterday. I got a hundred on it and the extra credit questions too. Mrs. Boyea drew one of her little smiley faces like she always does.

I can't wait to show this to Xander, he'll be so...

Oh. Right. I can't show it to Xander. Of course not.

I don't know how long I sit there, staring at the test and crying.

I can't do this. He's better off without me, but I can't do it. I just can't. I'm sorry, Xander. You're better off without me, but I can't let you go.

And suddenly I'm running. Before I even realize it I'm down the stairs and out the door. I don't know when I started running, but I know I'm not going to stop.

Not until I get to Xander. Not until I make it right.

The End