Purgatory

Rating: PG-13

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 trying to make money off of them.

Dedications: I don't think I want to dedicate this one.

Purgatory. That's what it feels like, what my life has become. That's the only word I can think of to describe it. I'm not in Heaven, that's for damned sure. Willow's not my friend anymore. No way is this Heaven. But it's not Hell either. I've still got Buffy, and Giles, and Mrs. Summers, and they're so good to me.

So it's not Heaven, and it's not Hell. Purgatory. It fits. All I can do is contemplate my sins, all the things I've done to lose Willow forever. And I'm playing all the 'What If?' games, of course, trying to figure out at what point I might have saved it, what I could have done to make things different. I'm trying to understand exactly when it became a foregone conclusion that I'd lose the most important person in my life, when I'd lose my soul. When I'd lose my Willow.

God, just thinking her name hurts so much. But the pain is all I have left of her now, so in a way it's comforting. It wasn't at first, though.

All my life, I never once thought of suicide. Not when it was so bad at home I cried myself to sleep every night. Not when I killed Jesse. Not when Willow gave up on what we could have had to go back to Oz. Not when Cordelia told me she hated me. Not when Willow wouldn't even let me hold her hand. Not once.

Not until last Friday night.

Not until I forgot.

Not until I touched her.

I'll never forget the look in her eyes. There was hatred there, but only for a second. Not for me. Willow could never hate me, I know that.

She doesn't hate me. Does she? No. I still know her well enough to know that. The hatred in her eyes wasn't for me, it was for what had happened to us, what we'd let ourselves become. It was the pain she hated.

And it was the pain she ran away from. But she ran away from me at the same time, and nothing has ever hurt me as much as watching her run out the library doors. Watching her run out of my life.

She couldn't stand the pain anymore. She couldn't stand to be my Willow. So she ran. And I wanted to die.

I don't want to think about what I might have done if Buffy and Giles hadn't come into the library just then. They saved my life, but I can never let them know that. I hid, I snuck back into the stacks so they wouldn't find me, but I could still hear them. They were training, and Buffy was joking around like she always does. Giles got in a few good cracks of his own, with that sarcastic edge to his voice that we all love to hear, even though we'd never admit it. Sitting back there out of sight, I could pretend it was just another day in the library, a day like any other. A day when Willow was still my friend. It saved me. They saved me.

But then they left. And the pain came back. It was different though. I knew that the pain was all I had left of Willow, so I welcomed it. It hurt even worse to do that, but it was a different kind of pain, a pain I could live with. A pain I knew I'd be living with for the rest of my life.

That's when I knew I couldn't kill myself, even though part of me still wanted to. I had the pain, so in a way I still had Willow. And I couldn't run away from her like that, even if she'd run away from me. And I couldn't hurt the people who would miss me.

Buffy. Giles. Mrs. Summers. Mom. Rory. They're the only people I can say with utter certainty would care if I died. And Willow. Even now I know she'd care. It helps to know that. It's not a big list, but it's enough.

It didn't seem like enough that night, though. After Buffy and Giles left I just sat there for a few minutes. I was numb, I wasn't thinking about anything. Then I started thinking about Willow, about all the things we've shared and all the things we'll never get a chance to share now. I thought about how wherever she was, was home to me. Whenever I was with her I was home, it was as simple as that. And then I thought about how I could never go home again.

That's when I started to cry.

That's when Buffy found me.

I'm not sure how long I'd been crying. No more than a few minutes, I guess, but it felt like forever. I was embarassed when I looked up and saw Buffy standing there. I've never liked people to see me cry, not even Willow. Buffy wouldn't leave, though. I tried to get rid of her, but she wasn't budging. And when she put her arms around me, I was so glad she hadn't left. I didn't even know that's what I needed until she did it. She's always been so good at the friendship stuff.

That night was amazing. She and Mrs. Summers were perfect, everything I needed. I actually managed to forget about Willow for a little while. Forget about the pain. Saturday was good too. It hurt to talk about Willow like that, it hurt so much, but I had to do it. And Buffy was there for me, like she's always there for me. Like she swore she'll always be there for me.

It felt so good to hear her say that, and to hear her tell me she needs me just as much as I need her. I felt like a whole person again for the first time since Willow and I got caught in the factory. Buffy made me whole again, and I love her for it. And now she knows I love her. That's something, at least.

She's been great this week. I know it's tearing her apart, because she's still Willow's friend as well as mine. I think she feels guilty about still being friends with Will. I've told her she shouldn't, but she does. Giles too, I think. They both know it's okay, that Willow's not the bad guy here, but it's all so damned awkward. It's like a divorce, I guess. Me and Will have split up, and Buffy and Giles aren't sure how to act around us.

Lunch is easy. Buffy sits with me, Willow sits with Oz on the other side of the room. We try not to look at each other, and none of us talk much.

The library's harder. We all have to be there. The world has to be saved, after all. No room for personal problems to get in the way. I know that. But God, it hurts to see them together. They try to be good, I'll give them that. They don't kiss or sweet-talk with each other or anything like that. But it doesn't matter. I see the way they look at each other, and I know what they're doing when they leave together. I try very hard not to think about it, but that trick never works.

And Willow won't talk to me. Not even strictly business. Last night we were researching some amulet or other, I forget the name. I had that Necronomicon book in the pile in front of me, the one Giles says was written in the 60's by a bunch of morons who read way too much Lovecraft. It's usually pretty useless, but every once in awhile we find what we're looking for in it, so we always trot it out when we round up the usual suspects for a research-a- thon.

Anyway, it was in one of my piles, but Willow needed it. I noticed her glance around the table until her eyes settled on the book. She didn't look at me, not even for a second. She looked down at her hands and said "Who's got the Necronomicon?"

I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. Instead, I took the book out of the pile and slid it across the table to her. I didn't say a word. And she waited until my hand was a safe distance away before she grabbed it and started reading.

I had to look away. I glanced over at Buffy. She was looking at the two of us, and I could tell she wanted to cry too. It helped to know that.

Buffy walked me home last night. We didn't say much. When we got to my house she pulled me into a hug and held me for a long time.

"It'll get better, Xander. It will."

Then she kissed me on the cheek and left.

And she's right. It will get better. I was laying in bed last night thinking about it, and I knew she was right. Eventually I'll start to forget about what I had with Willow, and things will get better.

Before I even realized it, I was crying. No, not crying. Sobbing. I had to bury my face in my pillow so I wouldn't wake up my parents.

Eventually I'd forget about Willow. It hurt so much to think that. I didn't want to forget about Willow, not even if it meant that the pain would never go away. I couldn't forget about my Willow.

I'm not a praying man. I lost my faith in God a long time ago, long before Buffy came to town and showed me that Evil with a capital E is allowed to exist unchecked. God and me, we just don't have anything to say to each other.

Or so I thought until last night. I prayed last night. No, not prayed. I begged last night. I begged God to not let me forget about Willow, no matter what happens to not let me forget her.

That's not what I wanted to ask for. I wanted to ask for my Willow back, for things to be the way they used to be. But I knew I couldn't have that. So instead I lay there in bed and cried and whimpered and begged a God I don't believe in to let me remember forever the only woman I've ever loved. The only woman I'll ever love.

It's not going to work, of course. I knew that as soon as I woke up this morning. Eventually I will forget about what Willow and I shared, whether I want to or not. If I don't, I'll never be able to get through this. And I will get through this, I know I will. I'm a survivor, always have been. I'll live. I'll find a way to live without her. I'll find a way to live without my Willow.

I don't want to, but I will.

The End