Disclaimer: The characters, setting, and other details of this story are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, and 20th Century Fox. No copyright violation is intended, no profit will be made. Please, don't get up.

Not-the-Author's Note: I did not write this; my brother did. We currently have a symbiotic relationship where I post his stories at this site and forward the feedback to him. He occasionally takes me out to lunch, loans me money, and reminds me that Mom always liked him better. It works out for everyone.

This is a stand-alone story, not related to any of his other series or stories.

Another Not-the-Author's Note: phoukabro recently won runner-up in the White Knight Awards for Xander Fanfiction in the category of "I Like The Quiet" for this very story. Congratulations, phoukabro.





TEN THINGS XANDER HARRIS NEVER TALKED ABOUT (AND ONE HE DID)

1. March 22, 1991

It was certainly the nicest birthday party Xander had ever been to. Cordelia Chase's parents had gone all out for her tenth birthday. They had invited her entire class, and hired a magician, a pony that Willow was too scared to ride, and no clown, which Xander was thankful for.

Xander particularly liked the bags of candy handed out to all the guests. Some of the other guests didn't want their bags, and he was more than glad to take them off their hands.

“Hey, Xander!” Ryan called out to him. “Your parents on their way yet?”

Xander shrugged. He mentioned to his parents the time the party would end, but when he tried to call half an hour ago, there was no answer. “I figured I'd just walk home. You know, enjoy the fresh air.”

“Cool,” Ryan nodded. “I was just going to head on out. Did you want to hit the arcade?”

Xander thought for a moment. His parents weren't likely to show, and he was in no hurry to go home, even though the party had ended and everyone else was going home.

“Xander!” Willow ran up to him, before he could answer Ryan. “My parents are here. They said you can spend the night if it's okay with your mom.”

Xander looked between Ryan and Willow, then answered. “Yeah, that's cool. I can call my mom from your house, but it's never been a problem before.” He turned back to Ryan, “Sorry, man. How about Sunday?”

“That'll be okay. I'll meet you there at noon. You still owe me a rematch at air hockey,” Ryan said.

Xander and Willow got in her parents car, and they drove away from the Chase house. As they drove along, Xander looked out of the window at the Sunnydale streets. When they were a block away from the arcade, Xander thought he saw two figures in the shadows of the alleyway. He turned to Willow to say something, but she started talking about the latest episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and he quickly forgot about what he saw.

That Sunday, Xander waited at the arcade for over an hour, but Ryan never showed up.

Ryan didn't show up at school the next Monday either. He was the first classmate Xander knew that just disappeared. He was not the last.

2. March 10, 1997

Jesse grabbed Xander by his jacket and pushed him against the wall. Xander held up his stake against Jesse's chest.

Jesse just sneered at this. “Ooo! All right, Put me out of my misery. You don't have the gu-”

One of the fleeing Bronze patrons pushed Jesse forward, inadvertently pushing him onto Xander's stake. Xander watched in horror as what used to be his friend crumbled to dust. He stared in shock until two vampires grabbed him. He struggled in vain against them, until they all saw Buffy stake Luke. After witnessing the death of their leader, the two vampires let him go and ran out of the club.

Xander looked around at the aftermath of the fight. He walked up his surviving friends as they talked. “One things for sure; nothing's ever going to be the same.”

The next morning, everything seemed to be the same. After talking and even joking with others, he headed to his classes. He kept waiting for Giles, Willow, Buffy, or even Cordelia to ask what happened to Jesse. But no one ever asked.

3. March 3, 1998

Xander stood in front of Angelus, blocking his way to Buffy's hospital room.

“If I decide to walk into Buffy's room, do you think for one microsecond that you could stop me?” Angelus asked with contempt.

“Maybe not,” Xander answered. “Maybe that security guard couldn't either. Or those cops. Or those orderlies,” he said, motioning to the various men in the hospital wing. “But I'm kind of curious to find out. You game?” he asked.

“Buffy's white knight. You still love her.” Angelus leaned in to whisper, “It must just eat you up that I got there first.”

Xander didn't back down from him. “You're going to die. And I'm going to be there,” he stated.

Angelus slapped the flowers in his hand against Xander's chest. “Tell her I stopped by,” he said in a dismissive tone.

Xander stood in his place and watched the vampire walk away. He waited until Angelus was completely out of sight, before sitting back down.

For the next half hour Xander tried to get his hands to stop shaking. He sat in the chair, keeping guard over Buffy's room until sunrise.

4. January 26 and 27, 1999

Xander looked down at the bomb as the timer showed less than a minute left. He looked back up at Jack O'Toole and smiled thinly. “I like the quiet,” he said.

He held his spot, blocking Jack from the exit in the boiler room of the school basement. Jack stared at him, and he stared back. The seconds passed as neither of them moved.

Jack's eyes darted from him to the timer on the bomb back to him. Xander could hear the ticks of the timer, but didn't know how much time was left. He refused to look at the timer. Instead he kept staring at Jack.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Had it been a minute yet? There could only be a handful of seconds left. Xander knew even if he wanted, he couldn't run and get clear of the blast. He was going to stay right here with Jack. If the bomb went on, then his friends would be killed. But Xander would die too, knowing he hadn't run from the danger.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Jack started fidgeting. He looked up at Xander, almost pleading. Xander frowned slightly, as if to say, “Too late now.”

Tick.

Tick.

Ti-

Jack leaned over and plucked a wire free from the home made bomb. The silence in the room was almost deafening as Xander realized he was still alive. He took a deep breath and told Jack, “Good boy.”

Jack glared at him. The sight of that glare had made him break out in shivers earlier in the day, but now it was meaningless. Xander stepped closer to Jack until they were only inches away from each other.

“I don't think I wanna be seeing you on campus anymore, Jack,” Xander told him. He walked out of the room, and up the stairs, surprisingly calm. Jack began to speak, but Xander just ignored him. He paid no attention to the sounds of crashes and grunts.

He must be trashing the bomb, Xander thought. But the threat of Jack O'Toole held no power over him.

The next day, Xander met up with the gang. They made some general comments about the night before, that Xander listened to with sympathy for a few minutes before offering to grab some drinks.

On his way to the vending machine, Cordelia spotted him. He immediately recognized the cat playing with a mouse expression on her face as she approached. “Ooo, look, it's Mr. Excitement,” she snarked. “On another life or death donut mission, or are we just cruising for bimbos again, giving them lessons in lack of cool?”

Xander looked at her and calculated a comeback.. He thought of the most devastating comment he could make to her. He thought of how he could just cut her down with a handful of words. Instead he thought of the events of the past twenty-four hours. Xander smiled at her. It was not a cruel or mocking smile. But it was a calm smile that he knew she would never understand.

Xander walked past her. Cordelia was a little unnerved at his lack of reaction. “What?” she asked, not really sure of what she was even asking about. This bothered her even more.

“WHAT?” she insisted. Xander didn't respond, or look back, or even slow down. He just kept on walking.

5. August 15, 1999

“Harris! You're up!” the DJ yelled at him.

Xander shuffled out onto the stage of The Fabulous Ladies Night Club as the first bars of ZZ Tops “Sharp Dressed Man” came out over the speakers.

You can do this, he assured himself. Just move to the beat, pull off the shirt and pants at the chorus, and move to the front of the stage to get the tips from the screaming women.

As the song played, he ripped off the tear away shirt and heard the crowd roar in approval. He had more trouble with the pants, as on cuff did not come off. Instead, his balance was thrown off, and he grabbed the center pole to steady himself. He tried to spin on the pole to cover up this stumble, but he only got halfway around before stopping. He reached down and tugged at the pants leg, until it finally pulled free.

He turned back to the crowd and crawled in what he hoped was a confidant, seductive manner to the audience.

The rest of the song was a blur as his vision was filled with groping hands and dollar bills thrust in his face. He came off the stage clutching his clothes in one hand and crumpled dollar bills in the other.

I have to do this every hour for the rest of the night? he asked himself. He had confronted vampires, demons, and assorted creatures of hell, but right now, nothing unnerved him more than the screaming mass of women in the club.

He was about to retreat to the dressing room, when a voice said, “First night?”

Xander turned around and saw an attractive woman in her forties looking at him. “That obvious?” he asked.

“Well, it usually takes a few nights before the fear is gone from a new boy's face. But the trouble with the outfit kind of clinched it,” she smiled at him. “So what made you get up on stage?”

“Well the thought of women giving m money because of their overpowering sexual attraction actually seemed like a fun, not at all terrifying experience up till about five minutes ago,” he said. As he spoke, he smoothed out the money in his hand, organizing it into a roll. He plucked out the various bills from his G-string, including a twenty dollar bill from the back that he did not remember being put there.

“What do you need the money for? Working your way through college?” the woman asked.

“Car repairs, actually,” he admitted. “I was supposed to have this amazing Kerouac like journey over the summer, but my car had other opinions.”

“Man plans, God laughs,” the woman said. Xander figured it was a quote, but didn't recognize where it was from.

“Yeah, I was supposed to be having all these new experiences and adventures. Instead I'm here.”

“This isn't a new experience?” she asked him playfully.

“I, uh. I guess it is. Just not one I was expecting.”

“You rarely expect most adventures that hit you,” she said. After a moment she asked him, “So how much did you need for your car repairs?”

“Oh, about six hundred to get my car up and running. Then a couple of hundred for travel money to get back home.”

The woman looked Xander up and down. She glanced back at a group of eight women drinking and yelling near the back. “Tell you what. My friends are over there and ready for fun. If you join us for the rest of the evening, I can give you a hundred from each girl.”

Xander nervously looked over at the group. “Um, you know there are rules here about what you can and can't do to a dancer.”

The woman laughed. “I'm not looking for a gigolo. Just lap dances, flirting, and the other usual stuff.”

“Uh, can I ask why me? I mean there are a lot of more experienced dancers here tonight,” he asked.

She leaned in and said, “I don't want experienced. I want young, innocent, and just a little bit scared.” Her lips were just an inch away from his ear. She blew a quick breath into his ear before whispering, “Are you up for it?”

Xander gulped and nodded. The woman ordered a bottle of champagne and led Xander to the back table. He tried not to look so scared as they approached the group. The women ranged in age from late thirties to mid fifties. And a couple of them looked suspiciously like Cordelia and Harmony's mothers, only louder and drunker.

Five hours later, The Fabulous Ladies Nightclub closed for the night. Xander got dressed and walked back to his motel room across the street. Once inside his room, he counted out the money he had earned that night. He realized that between the tips on stage, the money from the women, plus the extra tips the women had put in his G-string during the night, he had almost fifteen hundred dollars.

Screw the repair, I can just trade it in and get a better car, he thought. But he vowed to never tell the details on how he earned the money. Nothing would make him talk. No power on this earth.

6. October 22, 1999

“They're where?” Xander asked. He held the phone receiver to his ear as waited for Giles to answer.


“Alpha Delta Kappa,” Giles told him. “It's a fraternity at the University.”

“An evil frat?” Xander asked. “Say no more, I'll be over as soon as possible. Do you think I'll have to go under cover again?”

“It's not an evil fraternity,” Giles said with a sigh. “At least no more than any other. Buffy and the others are simply attending a party on campus. There's no need to be alarmed.”

“Maybe. But this is the Hellmouth. It's even money that there's something demonic going down at that party. Tell you what, I can swing by, then you and I can hit the books to look up evil doings on campus.”

“Actually, I had prior plans,” Giles told him. Giles glanced down at the guitar case by his side. He had just found out about the open mike night at the Espresso Pump, and was rather eager to go.

“Oh, okay,” Xander said. “But if anything comes up....”

“Nothing will come up,” Giles assured him.

“But if it does, you'll call me.”

“Yes, yes,” Giles said before hanging up.

Xander sighed and sat down on his bed. “So to sum up, Buffy, Willow, and Oz are off having fun that only college students can have. Even Giles seems to have a better social life than me. But at least I have my family.”

“Keep it quiet down there!” his father's voice yelled from upstairs.

“Cordy's in LA. Faith's in an evil related coma. Even Anya's probably left town, now that she's gotten me out of her system.”

Xander reached into his bag and pulled out a Twinkie. He inserted a small candle in the top and little it. In a quiet voice he sang, “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me.”

7. November 9, 2000

Xander walked into Willow's apartment carrying a large box of supplies. “Willow?” he called out as he tried to close the door with his foot, while keeping a hold of the box.

“Willow? I got the stuff from the Magic Box for you,” he said as he placed the box on the coffee table in the front room. The front door slowly swung open, and Xander reached over to close it. As he reached over, the box of supplies began to topple off the table. He lunged back to steady the box, but knocked over a vase of flowers next to it. The vase fell over and water spilled onto the table and began to drip on the carpet below.

“Crap,” Xander said. He placed the box firmly on the table, walked over to the front door and shut it until he felt the latch catch on it, then uprighted the vase and flowers in it. He grabbed a box of Kleenex and dabbed a few to sop up the water, before realizing he would need something else.

He walked over to the bathroom door, opened it and reached down to linen cabinet to pull out a towel. Just as he grabbed one, he turned and caught sight of Tara standing in front of the mirror completely nude. Her hair was up in a towel, and she had headphones on, listening to music. She swayed gently, rocking her hips back and forth to the music as she brushed her teeth. She stopped, and slowly turned her gaze to Xander.

“Uh, hi?”

Tara simultaneously yelped, jumped back, and tried to cover herself. She moved her hands over her breasts and crotch, then reached back for a towel, then covered herself again.

“Here you go,” Xander said, meekly offering her the towel in his hand.

She grabbed the towel and tried to cover herself as she pulled off her headphones. “Oh, god. Xander -”

“Sorry, sorry, I am so sorry,” he babbled to her. “I wasn't trying to barge in, really. I would never want to see you naked. Ever,” he assured her, then tried to clarify, “Not that no one would want that, because clearly you're an attractive young woman who.... Did I mention I'm sorry.”

Xander backed out of the bathroom, still on his hands and knees. He continued to back up until he felt water on the floor and realized he still needed a towel to clean up the spilled water. He shuffled back, stopped, got up to his feet, reached over to knock on the door, and stopped again. At this point he decided the best course of action would be to sit on the couch and not touch or do anything.

After a minute, Tara came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body. Xander stood up and said, “Tara, great. I need your towel.” Tara looked down at the towel she was wearing in alarm. “A towel,” Xander corrected himself. “I need a towel. I went into the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the water from the vase I knocked over when I put the box of supplies on the table which I got for you and Willow because you were supposed to be at class today,” he explained in one breath.

Tara looked at him as she processed what he said. “Oh! No, Willow has class, but this is my study time. I went to the gym this morning, but came back here to shower.”

“Which is why you were in the bathroom total nude,” Xander finished with a smile, glad to clear up the misunderstanding. “Not that I noticed anything or took any kind of voyeuristic pleasure from what I may or may not have seen,” he added quickly.

Tara looked at the box of supplies on the table. “You brought this over for us? That is so sweet.”

“Uh, yeah. I mean it was on my way and all, so why not?” he said.

Tara smiled at him. “Thank you so much,” she told him. A look crossed her face and she stepped towards him. “And the other day, when I cast that spell and my family came for me? I never thanked you for all of that.”

“For that? It's nothing,” Xander assured her.

“It wasn't nothing. You had every right to be angry at me for the spell, but you weren't. Then when Donny.... You stood up to him to protect me. I will never forget that.” She leaned up and kissed Xander on the cheek. “I will never forget that.”

Xander held her hand as she smiled at him and he smiled back. A gentle breeze wafted in the room, and the towel wrapped haphazardly around Tara gently fell off. Xander jumped back from her, as Tara let go of his hand to catch the towel and cover herself again.

“Uh, I should probably get dressed,” she said.

“Yes,” Xander emphatically agreed. “You should get dressed. And I should leave. Right now. I will see you later. When you're with Willow and I'm with Anya. The people we love.”

He backed out of the apartment and closed the door behind him. Instead of going to work, he drove straight back to the Magic Box. He entered, locked the front door of the shop, and flipped the open sign to close.

Anya looked up from the counter. “What are you doing? How will customers be able to give me their money if the door is locked and the sign says closes?” she asked. Xander strode purposefully towards her. “There is a protocol between merchant and consumer that you're disrupting here. I don't think you realize the complex -” Xander cut her off as she pulled her to him and passionately kissed her.

“Is the mat in the training room still out?” he asked.

“Uh huh,” Anya answered in a daze.

“Good,” Xander said, as her swept her into his arms and carried her to the back room.

Three hours later, Anya curled up next to him on the mat. “Wow, what brought that on?” she asked.

Xander thought for a moment. He wondered how many men she had cursed because they had given the wrong answer to their lover during a moment like this.

“I just thought about how beautiful you are and how much I love you,” he said.

Anya giggled and hugged him tighter.

8. September 4, 2002

“Kiss him! Kiss him, you idiot!” Buffy yelled at the TV screen.

“I don't think she can hear you. I mean she is all the way in London and is technically a fictional character,” Xander said.

“I don't care how far away and nonexistent she is. Colin Firth just told her he likes her just the way she is. And he's cute, and British, and... cute. But she's just standing there open mouthed when SHE SHOULD BE KISSING HIM!” Buffy yelled at the TV once again.

“I guess some women just can't see what's right before their eyes,” Xander said with a hind of sadness. “But if I knew you were going to get upset at the movie, I would have chosen something a little less inflammatory. Maybe we should just stop it now,” he said, reaching up to the DVD player.

“You touch that button, and you'll draw back a bloody stump,” Buffy warned him. “Do not come between me and my British romantic comedies.”

“All right, all right,” Xander relented. “But next movie night is going to be a Kurt Russell – John Carpenter film festival.”

“Quiet. Movie's on,” she said. The both sat back on the couch watching Bridget Jones's Diary.

As they watched, Xander offered the bowl of popcorn to Buffy, who dug in greedily. She watched the movie intently, while he watched her try to cram as much popcorn into her mouth and still manage to spill half of it onto her shirt. She noticed him watching her and stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his tongue at her in retaliation. She threw popcorn at him, and he held the bowl above her, just out of her reach, forcing her to jump up for further food. Things degenerated from there into tickling, a pillow fight, then culminated into a standoff with Xander holding Mr. Gordo hostage until Buffy caved in.

They fell back on the couch, laughing. Buffy hugged Mr. Gordo protectively. “Did the mean nasty man hurt you? Don't worry, I'll make him pay for what he's done.”

“You've already made me pay. I think you knocked a filling loose on that last pillow hit,” Xander told her.

Buffy placed Mr. Gordo back on the table beside her. “This is nice,” she said.

“Assaulting me with cushions? I dread when you'll bring on the comfy chair,” he joked.

“Not that. I mean just this. Tonight. After everything that's happened, I'm glad I can have just a quiet night like this.”

“I do have my uses. Drywall, freelance carpentry, and thoroughly enjoyable low key evenings. As long as you don't mind a little clean up afterwards.”

He bent down to pick up some of the popcorn on the floor. Buffy knelt down beside him to help. He reached for a kernel by her knee when she reached for the bowl on the seat behind him, causing them to be face to face with just an inch between their lips. Buffy then moved forward and gently kissed him. Xander stood still in surprise, then returned the kiss. And they sat like that, kissing for just one moment.

The door opened with a bang, and Dawn came through it. Buffy and Xander jumped apart and looked up at the new arrival. “Hey, Xander. Buffy,” she greeted them. She stopped and looked over at them. “Oh, I can't believe this,” she said almost in anger. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Uh, Dawn, I can explain,” Buffy began.

“You bitch me out if I forget to use the coaster one time, and then you get popcorn all over the front room. This is total hypocrisy and it will not stand!” Dawn declared.

“”Uh, the popcorn was my fault, Dawnster. And I was just about to clean it up. Buffy was chastising me, as I deserved, when you came in,” Xander explained.

“I suppose so,” Dawn allowed. She turned back to her sister. “Are you ready for the patrol?”

“Patrol?”

“Yes,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes. “You promised you would take me with you on patrol this week. As part of your whole 'show me the world' thing.”

“Oh, right. Patrol,” Buffy remembered. She turned to Xander. “I promised her last week.”

“That's cool,” he told her. “I'll just clean up here.”

Xander cleaned up the mess as he watched the sisters leave for the night.

That's okay, he thought. We've got plenty of time to figure things out.

Two days later was Dawn's first day at the new Sunnydale High campus. That day, Buffy discovered Spike hiding in the basement.

Buffy and Xander never talked about what happened that night.

9. May 13, 2003

Xander finished packing up his car with the last of the weapons from his apartment. He looked back up at the building. It was the first place that he could really call his own. He never regarded the house he grew up in as a warm home, especially after he moved into the basement. He felt more at ease in Buffy's or Willow's place, although he was acutely aware he was guest there. But the apartment was his. And now he looked at it feeling it would be the last time he would ever see it.

“You should say something. Mark the occasion,” a voice said.

Xander spun around and saw Joyce Summers standing next to him. “You're not real,” he said.

“Xander, don't be silly. Of course I'm real,” she assured him.

“You're the First. You're not Joyce,” he stated. He waved a hand through her form. As it passed through, he shook his head, then got in his car. Driving away, he glanced in his rear view mirror.

“You can't get rid of me that easily,” Joyce said from the back seat.

“Do not use her face. Do not use her voice,” Xander said in a tight angry tone.

“Xander, it's okay. It's really me. The First isn't impersonating me. It's just giving me a chance to speak to you. I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, right. If you were really Joyce, you would appear to Buffy or Dawn.”

“Buffy didn't listen to me when I was alive. She definitely won't listen to me now. And Dawn is too frightened and confused to hear me,” she said with a sadness in her voice.

Xander stared straight ahead at the road, ignoring her.

“I need your help. You always looked out for my daughters, Now I need you to help one last time,” she implored him.

Xander gripped the steering wheel tightly, but did not say a word.

“I think it's already too late for Buffy. She doesn't care anymore. Not about her sister, not about those girls that came to her for protection. And not about you,” she said.

“Buffy cares. She's just having a rough time,” Xander said.

“How long did she stay with you at the hospital? When you were stabbed, did she even bother to glance at you before running to Spike? And has she even noticed the danger Dawn is in?” Joyce asked him. “The only thing she cares about is the vampire that tried to rape her. It's sick. You must know that.”

“What do you want?” Xander asked.

“I want you to protect Dawn. She won't survive what's coming up. Neither of you will. You're not fighters. You're not Champions. You're just not special. You should run. Run today. And take Dawn with you. It's your only hope.”

“You know I've heard this argument before,” Xander said, careful to control himself. “I didn't buy it when Buffy tried to take on the Master by herself. I didn't buy it when ADAM was running around. I sure as hell don't buy it from you,” he said, voice rising now. “And I know you're not Joyce. If Joyce Summers had a chance to talk to her daughters one last time, there is nothing that would stop her. You really should have chosen another form to visit me in.”

The warmth and concern vanished from Joyce's face. All that was left was coldness and contempt. “No one else wanted to see you. They all hate you. I hate you. I always did. Ever single time you came around I just wish you would crawl back to that trash heap you call a family,” she spat out. “You're going to die. The people you love are going to die because you weren't good enough to protect them.”

“My sense of humor is inappropriate, I never return library books on time, and my shoes don't match my belt,” Xander finished. He turned around to directly address his passenger. “Does that about cover it?”

The First Evil glared at him in frustration.

“I've got things to do. So get the hell out of here,” Xander ordered.

He glanced back, but his car was now empty. He pulled up to the Summers residence and got out of the car. He made his way to the trunk.

“Xander? Can I talk to you?” Buffy called out from the door.

“Always,” he said.

She looked around nervously as she approached him. “There's something I need you to do for me. It's Dawn. I need you to look after her one last time.”

Xander looked at Buffy with suspicion. He carefully poked her in the arm.

“Uh, you okay, Xander?” she asked him in confusion.

Xander sighed. “Yeah. Let's talk about his somewhere more private.”

10. October 5, 2003

Xander walked down the aisle of the Home Depot, looking at his shopping list when he hear someone say his name. He looked around and spotted a young woman standing ten feet away from him. It took a moment for him to recognize her.

“Nancy?” he asked.

She nodded. “Xander? Oh, god. You're alive.”

Xander smiled as she approached him. “You know you never did call me. You probably weren't sure how long to wait to call after you ex boyfriend turned giant worm attacks. And it's easy to lose a guy's number when the whole town collapses into a crater. I still haven't found my address book.”

Nancy looked at him. “Oh, god. I am so sorry. I just freaked out after that night and left town the next day. When I saw on the news that Sunnydale was gone, all I could think about was you.”

“Really?” he asked in surprise. “Well I made it out okay. I'm glad to see you're safe.”

Nancy reached up and gently touched his eyepatch. “What happened to you?”

“This? Gift from a misogynistic priest,” he laughed nervously, then turned serious. “Right before Sunnydale collapsed, this guy... he killed some girls. I was trying to get the rest to safety, when he caught up to me and...,” Xander gestured with his thumb.

Nancy looked at him in shock. “You were there? At the end?”

“Yeah, I was. The whole town just crumbled away. It started at the school then went outwards. We were on a bus, and just barely managed to outrace it. Some.... not everyone got out. A lot of people died in there.” He took a deep breath, then continued, “Anya died in there. After your boyfriend and some other stuff, she really turned herself around. But she never made it out of town,” he finished up. Looking back up at her, Xander brightened. “It's great running into you like this. Maybe we could....” he trailed off as he saw the look of horror on her face.

She slowly backed away from him. “Xander, you're a very nice, very brave person,” she told him. “But the world you live in scares me. I can't be a part of that. I don't want to be a part of that.” She turned to walk away, but stopped. She glanced back at him and said, “Please, stay away from me.”

Xander watched her walk, then run away. He did not move to follow her.

(And one he did): April 25, 2005

“Stop them!' Xander ordered. Five Slayers fanned out to attack the cultists performing the ritual. The cultists ran to meet them, blocking them from the altar with a robed figure standing over a wrapped body.

The head priest looked up and the interlopers and laughed. “You're too late! We've already revived the discarded tool of the Powers That Be. We will drain the energies from her, rip apart her soul and desecrate her carcass!”

Xander resisted the urge to rush at the unholy priest. Instead he carefully took aim with his crossbow and fired at one of the hooded members about to overpower a Slayer. “This is end of the world stuff!” he shouted out. “Use lethal force if you have to!”

He reloaded, took aim, and fired again, hitting a my in the back. From the back, he kept an eye on the entire battle. “Janet! Cover Lisa's back! Susan! Move up the aisle and block the left entrance!”

The girls followed his orders, and he continued to pick his targets and eliminate them. Soon the tide of the battle began to turn, and the cultists pulled back. Xander moved forward, continuing his shots.

“NO!” the priest yelled out. “If we cannot have the girl, then no one can!”

The priest raised a knife over the body on the altar. This time, Xander didn't hesitate as he ran forward. He collided with the priest in a dull thud, knocking him over. The priest struggled to get up, but Xander pinned him down, hitting him with his fists. The priest managed to get his feet under Xander and kicked him off. He stood over Xander, still grasping the ceremonial knife.

“All who oppose us will die,” the priest intoned as he advanced on Xander. Xander scuttled back from the priest until his back hit the altar. The priest grinned evilly as he raised the knife -, then toppled forward in a limp heap, a small ax protruding from his back.

Xander looked back and saw Lisa giving him a thumb's up. “Got your back!” she called out to him.

He scrambled up and grabbed the knife from the priest's hand. He turned back to the altar, and cut away the bandages that covered the young woman. He stopped for a split second as he uncovered her face, but then cut the rest of the bandages off. Leaning over he checked for respiration, but could not feel any breath.

“C'mon, Don't quit now. You're almost back,” he muttered. He placed his hand over her heart and felt a weak rhythm, then slowed then stopped. “NO! I do not accept this!” he yelled, as he began to perform CPR. He kept a steady series of compressions going, glancing at her mouth ever few seconds for signs of breathing.

The battle around him had finished up, and the five Slayers began to gather around him. The watched with worry as Xander stood over the woman.

“Breathe, you stubborn bitch,” he muttered. “Just breath. Don't do this to me now. I need you to breathe!”

Lisa put her hand on Xander's shoulder. “Boss? I think she's gone. Those guys probably weren't able to bring her back in the first place,” she said gently.

Xander looked at her with despair etched on his face. “Call an ambulance! Get a crash cart down here!” he yelled out. But he kept the steady beat of the compressions.

“Breathe. Breathe,” he said with each beat. “You're not going to give up. You've never given up before. You can't let these losers have the last laugh. Have you seen how they dress? It's pathetic.”

The Slayers watched as tears began to fall from Xander's remaining eye. Janet had her phone out and was speaking to the 911 operator.

“Breathe. Breathe.” Xander said, he voice getting louder. “Just breath. This is your second chance, don't let it go! JUST BREATHE!

The woman coughed loudly, causing the Slayers to jump back. Xander stopped his compressions but did not move away. Instead, he brushed the hair away from her face. The woman kept coughing, rolling to her side. Xander gently cradled her. The coughing finally stopped and the woman took a series of deep gasping breaths.

Cordelia Chase opened her eyes and focused on her surroundings. “Jesus, Dorkboy,” she said in a weak voice. “What the hell happened to you?”

Xander Harris, wearing his eyepatch, face covered in dust, and tears running down his cheek, began to laugh.

Six months later at their engagement party, Xander repeated the story of his fiancé's first words to him on her return to the world of the living.

He repeated it again to their children on their tenth anniversary.

And twenty years after that to their grandchildren.