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31 Never Was

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Ficlet(s)

This story is No. 1 in the series "Thirty One". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: 31 things Xander never was.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Xander-Centered > Ficlet CollectionsLadyAvariceFR153218,57728167,3151 Oct 121 Nov 12Yes

CH 30: Visiting Home

CH 29 Costume: Jazz from Transformers the Movie


This is a Willow Special.



"Willow! Come on, I've got the perfect costume for you!"

"Nope, already got it."

"You are so not going as a ghost! The heck with classics, it's come as you aren't night!"

"She's not going as a ghost, Buff. Wills picked these out a while ago and we decided to do them this year in memory of Jesse."

Xander sidled up to Willow, a bag clutched in his hand. They had only gotten to the costume shop minutes earlier, Buffy almost instantly falling over the gown.

When had they had time to shop!?

"He had them? The special sparkles and the scarves?"

"Yup. Just had to pick it all up. Got a discount too since it was a bit hard to sell to anyone who didn't know the series. Good idea to call in early and ask for him to hold this. Nice guy too."

Willow smiled and flung her arms around his neck, starting to babble about things she'd need to do for both of them and when he should come over so she could help him get into character. It was rather obvious that Xander was doing this to make Willow happy.

Buffy sighed and decided to just go with it. Willow was happy, Xander, if not completely thrilled, seemed happy and it wasn't a ghost.

She could deal.



"Xander, Willow, nice costumes. Who are you supposed to be?"

Mrs. Summers stepped back, letting the two teens into the house. Both were dressed in slightly British looking get ups with sweaters, pea coats and scarves. Oddly enough, both of their outfits were entirely white and sparkled a bit from glitter Willow had used.

The two shared a glance and smirked.

"Case-workers. Very special, and overworked, case-workers."



Willow didn't remember much from Halloween night. Still, a few things had lingered. There was the slight accent and a love for coffee, (which he tried to turn towards decaf, heaven help him), plus a boost in self confidence. She was so much happier now, finally fitting in her skin. And that new guy was treating her well, making her smile.

It was good.

His own character…. well there would be adjusting needed.

But things were so much clearer now.

He knew without a doubt where Jesse had ended up, had been able to see him oh so briefly. But Jesse hadn't blamed him, had thanked him, and let him know that while he missed both him and Willow they'd better not join him too soon.

The dead were obvious to him now, and the un-souled. His type of… being was never meant to exist in this world. But now thanks to a Chaos spell he did.

He didn't have all the abilities, or the knowledge or the confidence. But what he had he used as he could.

He could tell why Spike was different from other master vamps, how much the curse on Angel tortured both the soul and the demon.

And he could tell when Death was watching, waiting for the moment to take a soul Home.

Old Mrs. Josephine had lived next door to him for years, offered him a safe haven when his parents were too scary and baked him cookies every time he 'helped' in her yard. One of the few truly sweet people he'd been privileged enough to know.

Last night, after everything had settled a bit and he'd been at his front door, he'd looked over to the door of her simple but homey house. Two figures had stood on the stoop, one of them a gentleman all in white, the other looking very much like Mrs. Josephine might have many years ago. For some reason he'd checked his watch. 12:42AM, All Saints Day.

Later in the morning, when it was nearly afternoon, he'd seen the ambulance in front of her house and the covered gurney. And he understood.

His gaze moved to Giles where he sat pouring over books yet again. Trying to figure out if what was left from the possessions was safe to leave alone or not.

Xander smiled a bit.

Maybe he should pull Giles aside and explain the Slayers' Gift, just to give him some comfort.

Too long had the Watchers' believed that "I am the Slayer, death is my gift" was a calling to the life of battle and bloodshed and killing.

They were wrong.

"Death is my Gift" was, no is, a promise, a guaranteed welcome Home for the weary soldier after a long hard fight. And there wasn't a Slayer who didn't deserve that reassurance.

A soft fluttering sound caught his attention. On the open windowsill sat a pure white dove, cooing softly in the morning light.

After a moment he smiled and made his way to his mentor-father.

"Hey, Giles?"

The librarian looked up from his book, quickly hiding the worn look behind a careful mask of steadiness and surety. He was utterly confused when Xander just smiled peacefully at him.

"We need to talk."

On the windowsill the dove cooed once more before simply flying away.
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