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Time After Time Series	By : Virtualpersonal Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Slash - Male/Male > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander Views: 6495 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
He was cold. A vampire wasn't supposed to feel the cold, especially during a warm California summer, but Spike was cold. Maybe numb was a better word. His boy had...

He clenched his fists around the railing of the hospital bed as he peered down at Xander's pale face marred by the presence of thick white bandages over one eye. His boy had lost an eye, and Spike had neither prevented it nor been able to wreak revenge. What good was he?

He and the girls were taking turns watching over Xander. It was his turn now. If possible, he would take all of their turns. Or stay with them, but he wasn't leaving this bedside.

God... Xander's lips were curving... he was smiling... he was dreaming. It tore Spike's insides to shred... the thought that every time the boy opened his eye and woke to the nightmare of reality, that genuine smile was replaced by a forced one.

If he'd been a little faster... a little stronger... if he'd watched over Xander, instead of trying to prove a point to the Slayer... if...

"Sleep," he whispered. "Sleep and dream of better days."

Xander shifted a little in his bed, smiling happily at the man looming over him. He knew this was a dream, had a small inkling that once he woke up he wouldn’t be as happy as he was now, so he kept a tight hold on Spike and smiled again.

"Want me?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. The look in Spike’s eyes as the blond leaned down to kiss him was answer enough . Xander told himself to forget about waking up for now and concentrated on the feelings the blond’s touch evoked, whispering Spike’s name in pleasure.

He might not know what Xander was seeing in his dream, but Spike's answer to the muttered words was automatic. "Always. Any time... any place... time after time." He reached out and stroked his boy's hair, reminding himself he had to be strong. Strong for both of them.

Xander felt a soft touch on his hair. He frowned a little as the touch contradicted the dream. Spike's hands were holding his hips still, not petting his hair. But then it went on, stroking him gently, bringing with it the need to feel more. Dream Spike disappeared as Xander concentrated on the invisible hand petting his hair.

His eyes drifted open and he squinted upwards.

"Spike?"

"Right here, pet." Spike swallowed hard, enjoying the brief moment when Xander was awake and at peace. The badness would invade now. "Still... right here."

"Hey there," he whispered, "what happened? The weird priest guy...he...oh God..." Xander's breath caught for a moment then sped up as image after image ran through his head.

As if under the force of a punch, Spike winced. With his hands clasped together, if only to prevent himself from gathering Xander to him, and forearms resting on the bed railing, he leaned forward. "Had a bit of a sleep. Do you need anything? Shall I call the nurse?"

"Spike?" Xander knew his voice sounded sad and pathetic but he couldn’t help himself. Spike swam out of his vision, replaced by a darker man, smirking down at him. Xander could still see Caleb’s cruel smile as he talked, still see the man’s hand coming up to his face, the thumb pressing in, "Spike," he screamed, his hand shooting out to grab hold of the blond, any part he could reach, he needed to know Spike was there.

Xander's scream was all it took to send fear shooting through a one hundred plus year old vampire who'd seen it all. "What's the matter... do you feel pain? NURSE!!! NURSE.... need a nurse!" He gathered the boy up to him. "I'm here... Xander... shush I'm here... you'll get better..."

For an instance, he heard those same words... you'll get better ... whispered in his own ears, but in the soft accents of the ancient language of the Macedonians. He blinked the distant past away as the nurse flounced in. "'Bout bloody time. Get him something... for the pain... or to help him sleep."

The nurse gave him a look. "Please don't lift the patient up..." Striding to the bed, she looked down. "Mr. Harris, are you in pain?"

Xander had calmed down a little after Spike pulled him close but still he refused to let go. He nodded in answer to her question. He felt like he’d been run over by a truck. The nurse did something behind his back but he refused to let go of Spike to look around to her.

"Mr. Harris, perhaps you should lie down."

"No," he snapped, trying to shake off her hand from his shoulder. She pressed gently back but Xander wouldn’t have it, his hands curled into Spike’s shirt. "Not letting go."

"Leave off," Spike snarled, curling his hand over hers and squeezing until she released Xander. "Can't you see it's what he needs now. I'll put him down when he ..."

"Alright, alright..." the nurse backed out of the room.

"Shshsh," he stroked Xander's hair and tried to cover his own pain at staring down at the bandages over the boy's eye... the knowledge that Xander's eye was gone... no hope, not even the slightest hope. A lump grew in his throat. "Sleep... pain will be gone soon," he lied. This kind of pain went beyond the physical, of that he was only too well aware. "We'll make it though this."

Xander held on, focusing on Spike, on the hand brushing through his hair, anything but the pain, anything but the thought that his eye was gone. "Spike?" he whispered when he finally calmed himself down a little, "Tell me a story?"

"What?" Spike was distracted... between trying to fight the depression threatening to swamp him, and the need to be strong for Xander, all he could come up with was a story too close to home. "Sleep, luv." Please sleep .

Xander shook his head, wincing at the pain his gesture caused. "What if the nightmares come back?" he said, hiding his face against Spike’s t-shirt, embarrassed of his fear.

That was it... Spike would give him the story, chase the bloody nightmares away.

"We were in the army. Alexander the Great's army," Spike said closing his eyes and swaying gently with Xander against his chest. It felt so natural... so right. "Best friends... grew up together. I came from a wealthy family... by the time I was sixteen, already had my own villa. You... well you didn't have much, but you acted like you had more. You were always the happy one, and I was the pessimist. We ran away together... to find adventure..."

[Flashback - 336 B.C.]

They were seasoned soldiers, having fought first under King Phillip, and now under King Alexander. They'd traveled the world, in quest of Alexander's dream of ruling the whole world.

As they sat around one of the thousands of the camp fires lighting up the river bank, neither Spadakos nor Alexandros cared about their king's agenda. What they cared about was that there was food on the spit, and wine in their wineskins, and that there would be a few days rest before they moved again... this time at unimaginable speeds, intent on surprising the Barbarian forces beyond the River Danube.

Spike scraped the tip of his spear against the flat rock, sharpening it. "You're burning the meat. Again."

"I am not," Alexandros protested. He still checked over the meat and pulled it a little further away from the fire. "You’re just a fussy eater with your trained slaves cooking for you at home."

"I haven't been home for good old fashioned slave cooking in... years. You'd think in all that time, you'd have learned some cooking skills... or earned enough gold to hire someone to cook for you."

"I cook well enough," Alex said placidly, "and I refuse to spend my money on a cook. There are better things to waste money on." He checked the meat again, cut a piece of it off with his knife. "I think it's done."

"You take the first bite... I don't want to be poisoned again." Just as he expected, Alexandros attacked him, and soon they were rolling around near the fire, trying to wrestle each other into admitting defeat. "You're about to prove you're as bad a fighter as you are a cook," he said, grinning as he trapped Alex. "Just once... give up quickly so we can eat..."

"No," Alex replied. He would have thought that he'd win their fights easily. After all he was bigger and, despite the scars he had acquired on the way, had never lost a real fight in his life. But still every time he fought Spike he would end up on his back with Spike holding his hands down. "I never quit."

"Yes, you're quite stubborn. Must take after your father... I heard he was a brown and white mule--" they went rolling again as Alex fought with renewed vigor. Laughter and encouragement from other soldiers resounded around them, as well as complaints about boys that never grew up.

Alex tried his best but as usual he got distracted by some movement of Spike's body and instead of pushing him back, he twisted his body. Once again he found himself flat on his back, with Spike straddling his hips. He glared mutely up at the man, unwilling to verbally accept his defeat.

Chuckling, Spike lowered his head and whispered in his friend's ear, "It’s alright, Alex... one day, in the distant future... years from now... you'll grow up to be me." Adding a bit of fuel to his taunt, he kissed Alex on the cheek, and rolled off him, only to see the Supreme Commander of the Army, their King, standing over them.

Spike sobered quickly, expecting harsh words. But no, the King was looking speculatively at both of them, his gaze growing warm as it landed on Alexandros, whose suede shirt had worked its way up, leaving much of his skin bare.

The thin boy Spike knew from childhood had grown to be a man. Years of exercise had put muscle on Alexandros' flesh, and given him a chest and abdomen that seemed chiseled in stone... the type that artists would beg to use as models for their statues. Apparently Alexander the Great appreciated the sight as well. Spike had the inexplicable urge to pull Alex's shirt down.

Alex jumped up, pushing Spike off of him in the process. He’d always admired his namesake, since he was a young boy and heard stories about the then prince and his exploits. He never admitted it to Spike but one of the reasons he had joined Alexander’s army was a childish urge to impress the man.

"Spadake, get up," he muttered, using Spike’s full name to make the urgency clear.

Moving a lot slower than Alexandros, Spike pulled himself up to his full height and raised his gaze to their leader.

"What are you two doing?" their King asked.

Spike recognized the flash in the man's eyes. Not what you're imagining, he wanted to spit out. Instead, he muttered, "loser cleans up."

Alex glared at Spike. "It’s a childhood custom, my King. If it displeases you, of course we will stop immediately," he said, looking back at the King, respectfully holding his eyes just below Alexander’s own.

"No, not on my account," the King replied, an amused little smile playing at his lips. "I enjoy watching a good fight."

Next he'd be asking Alexandros to get oiled and enter one of the wrestling matches the King favored and sometimes joined in. "He's not very good. They have betting fights in that group there, every night," Spike said, pointing with his chin toward a group of soldiers.

"Spadake, shut up," Alex hissed, feeling a blush threaten. Now the king would think that he was a lousy soldier. "He only means that they would offer more of a spectacle. I am good with a sword and shield but I am reluctant to fight properly with a friend."

"I'm sure you're very good... with a sword." Alexander turned to his man, "these two soldiers are invited to dinner on the morrow. They won't need to clean up the plates, but there might be some fighting."

Spike shifted his weight, staring at King Alexander, who was now smiling at Alexandros. The minute the King walked away, he grabbed Alex. "It's not like he's some God... even if he thinks it," he whispered.

"He’s still our King and our Commander!" Alex said, glaring at his friend, "He is a great fighter and a brilliant strategist. And you! You called me a bad fighter in front of him!"

"He's not watching you because he thinks anything of your fighting skills, you git," Spike ran a hand through his hair and sat down. "Now let's eat... and try to think a way to get out of tomorrow night."

[Present]

"He was an arsehole, always sniffing around you," Spike said, laying Xander down, now that the boy seemed to have relaxed. "I knew it... right from the start, I knew he wanted you. And I didn't like it... even if I didn't understand why I hated the idea."

Xander kept hold of Spike’s t-shirt, absently playing with the hem.

"Did I know?" he asked, "Because it sounds to me like I was crushing on him pretty bad," he frowned at the thought. Since when was he okay with the thought of crushing on a guy? Never mind that, the big question was since when did he believe that Spike was telling him real stories?!

"You were," Spike scowled. "Just because he owned the known world..."

"Well that’s a pretty good reason!" Xander protested. "Plus I’ve seen pictures of him. He was hot...if you liked that sort of thing. Which I don’t. At all." He saw Spike’s lips twitch. "Shut up and tell the story," he mumbled.

Spike smirked and almost forgot all about the bandaged eye.

[Flashback]

They were hot and sweaty, and dusty... from training all day. They'd been driven to the brink of their abilities, and word was that the army would be on the march soon.

"Come, let's wash up," Spike thumped Alex on the shoulder and pointed to where the men were bathing and putting ointments on each other to combat muscle pains. "Or maybe we should show up to dinner like this... it might be a good way to get the invitation revoked."

"Spike don’t you dare," Alex said with a reproachful look. He had had a hard time concentrating all day. The thought that the king had favoured them with a dinner invitation kept crowding into his head, making him nervous and excited. What if he looked a fool in front of him? What if he said the wrong thing or did something horribly embarrassing?

"Do you think we should dress in full uniform? Is that proper?" he asked. Spike would know, he was born and raised in the aristocracy and he knew all the customs.

Spike wanted to clamp his mouth shut and not say another word, but the pleading look from Alexandros always got to him. "Yes, we'll need to dress in full uniform. Just try not to drink too much even if the wine is good. You have to watch your mouth in that group."

They dove into the cold waters of the river and quickly washed up. By the time they came out, both men were shivering. Using the drying clothes, they quickly wicked all the moisture off their bodies.

"I know, I know, you want help with the liniment," Spike complained, dipping his finger into the pot and then moving behind Alexandros and slathering it over his back. "If you hadn't tried to show off, you wouldn't have pulled this muscle and--"

He felt a hand push his away, and was about to protest, when he saw it was the King who’d knocked his hand. Mouth pressed into a flat line, but mute, he let him take over.

Alex, oblivious to the change, stood still as hands massaged the liniment in the muscle.

"Fuck, Spike, you’re getting better at this," he said as one finger dug in at just the right place and loosened some of the tension. He waited until Spike was finished, stretched a bit to see how the muscle worked and turned around to thank his friend, coming face to face with the king.

"Sir! I...you...I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I would never presume, I’m so sorry," he babbled.

"I'll accept the compliment in the spirit it was given," King Alexander smiled, "easy... the point is to relax, not tense up. Carry on."

Spike waited exactly two minutes. "Getting better>/I>... you're an ass," he growled, putting his clothes on in a rush.

"Well, I didn’t know it wasn’t you, did I?" Alex protested, following Spike as he stalked off. "You could have warned me, you know. Spike! Spike? Are you mad at me?"

"No... yes... I don't know," he answered, slicing his hand through the air. "Why must you look at him like that? Your eyes go all big the instant you see him. And he's no better than you, not only do his eyes get big, so does his co--"

"So does his what?" Alex demanded, "My eyes do not get big," he went on, not waiting for a response, "and what do you care if they do anyway."

"It's just damned irritating, alright?" He made another gesture and shook his head.

Anaxagoras, who always stuck his nose in where it didn't belong and liked to stir trouble, decided to speak up. "He's jealous. He knows that Alexander is looking for new concubines, now that some of them have been left behind."

The rage in Spike's eyes stopped the man from giving further opinions.

"I did not bring Alexandros all the way here to be one of ... to be... he's a soldier."

"You did not bring Alexandros all the way here period! I came all by myself." Alex protested. "You guys should get your mind out of the gutter. Do I look like I could be anybody's concubine?" He snorted and headed off to find his uniform.

"Yeah... sometimes you do!" Spadakos shouted at his back. "Naive son of a mule..."

* * *

Alexandros checked his chest piece one more time, making sure it was absolutely spotless. He'd spent most of the late afternoon scrubbing it clean, anxious to make a good impression on his commander. Spike and he were standing outside the king's tent, waiting for permission to enter. Alex had tried to make conversation but Spike was sullen and uncommunicative so he finally lapsed into nervous silence.
Spike sniffed the air and turned piercing blue eyes toward Alex. "What's that scent? You ARE trying to be his concubine!" he hissed.
"I am not!" Alex hissed right back, "Stop being so fucking paranoid. Just because I respect the man doesn't mean I want to crawl into his bed."
"Just because you don't want to doesn't mean he doesn't... and you might find yourself without a choice, seeing as who he is," Spike snarled back.
The tent's curtains were drawn by the slaves, so that there was now only a roof, but the sides of the tent were open and revealed long dining tables for the select guests of the evening. Spike and Alex were ushered in and shown to a table suspiciously close to the head table. Spike didn't say a word, but he gave Alex a weighty look.
"Shut up, Spike and for Dias's sake behave," Alex said with a glare towards his best friend.
The king chose that time to approach their table, a pleasant smile gracing his face.

"I'm very glad you accepted my invitation," he said, focusing on his namesake.
"It's our great honour to be invited," Alexandros replied, beaming back.
"Too great an honor," Spike added, in the most pleasant of tones.

[Present]

"And then the bloody git was pumping you with wine... telling you to try various kinds, until you couldn't think straight and didn't even know that he was rubbing your neck and was practically plastered to you as you tried to speak close to his ear."

Xander grinned. "Good to be wanted," he teased, "Especially with your guy acting like an idiot."

Spike started to bristle but looked up just as Buffy walked in. From the look on her face, he knew she was perplexed by the way Xander was holding on to him, but he challenged her with his eyes to say a thing about it.

"Hey," she said softly, walking up to the bed. "I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd check in. Take over for a while."

He could see the weight of the world was on the Slayer's shoulders, that this bit of guilt about what happened to the boy was heavier than all she'd carried before. They'd share the burden then... he hadn't moved fast enough, done enough to protect Xander.

"Take a break," she whispered to him.

Maybe she wanted to talk to Xander. "I'll be back, luv," he said with a bit of defiance, as he started to pull away from Xander's death grip on his shirt.

"No it’s okay he can stay," Xander said hastily, tightening his hand on the bit of material he held. "He err...he tells good stories. Plus the nurses are scared of him! And...and...he doesn’t have to go lead the Mini-Me´s. So he can stay."

He turned up to Spike to see his answer but instead he saw the blond glance at the door and frown. Xander’s eye immediately dropped back to the bed and he let go of Spike’s shirt, curling his hand around the blanket instead.

"On the other hand, maybe Spike should go protect the Mini-Me´s. We can’t have both the warriors protecting the cripple, right?" he joked feebly.

"Xander!" Spike briefly met Buffy's gaze. "I'll be back... getting coffee."

She winced, both at Xander's characteristic joke, and the raw anguish in the vampire’s emotion thickened voice. "Xan..." She looked down at him.

Unable to stand it a moment longer, Spike strode out of the room and past the glaring nurses at the station. He pushed the door of the public restroom open, hardly registering how loud it banged against the wall. Leaning forward, palm on the mirror, he stared at it. He didn't need to have a reflection to know that the reason for his bleary vision was the gathering tears.

He couldn't stand it... couldn't stand the word cripple ... couldn't stand that his boy had lost an eye... or that he was making fun of himself. There was nothing he could do about it... not a bloody thing now. If he'd moved a bit faster... if he'd noticed the danger... if he'd grabbed Caleb from behind and dug his own fingers in the bastard’s eyes... but no... he'd been useless... useless to Xander. Rage coursed through his system... snapped something inside. Snarling loudly, he slammed his fist against the mirror... again, and again... he was impotent... useless... and his boy was suffering.

By the time he came to his senses, the mirror had shattered into small pieces. He flicked the shards off his flesh, ran cold water over the blood than walked out.

When he returned to the room with two cups of coffee from the vending machine, Buffy stared at the scarlet liquid streaming from his hand. He didn't seem to notice it, and she wasn't sure he quite saw her either.

"Spike! You’re back." Xander couldn’t hide the surprise he felt at Spike’s return. Hadn’t he given him the perfect excuse to leave? "Buffy can stay for a while, you can go," he said. Maybe Spike hadn’t realised.

"Not going anywhere until you are well enough to get out of bed and make me," he answered, reaching out to straighten the white sheets.

"You're getting the sheets... they're..." Buffy could see that they were both in their own worlds... that they'd forgotten she was there. Seeing no point in mentioning he was getting the sheets bloody, she just caressed Xander's arm. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Sure, Buff." Xander tried a bright smile, but he could see from the look on Buffy’s face that it was only half-achieved. He waited until she left the room before turning to face Spike again. Everything he had to say started with Why did you stay? so he simply stared helplessly for a moment.

He saw Spike breathe in, realised that he was going to say something. Suddenly he started trembling, sure that Spike was going to say he was sorry and then Xander would know he was only staying because he felt guilty. He had to say something, had to stop Spike from talking. "Story!" he declared, "Go on with the story."

"You just want to get to the part where we fucked our brains out." A small smile played on Spike's lips. "Admit it."

Catastrophe successfully diverted Xander was up to offering the blond a smile.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he said demurely. "What happened after the dinner? Did Alexander the Great make a move?"

"I'm sure he did, though Alexandros denied it."

[Flashback]

Spike went through the motions... laughing and talking with the other soldiers, but his mind was on where their King had taken Alexandros... and what they were doing. He'd wanted to show Alex something... show him something! And the boy had to be as dense as the clay pot on the fire to believe the King had anything to show him other than his randy cock.

Alex chattered on nervously as they walked. The king remained silent, merely smiling at him, which only made Alex talk more. He had been invited to meet the king's steed. If it had been any other horse Alex would have been flattered but the king's warhorse, the famed Bucephalas himself! He wished Spike was here, if only to keep him from making quite such a fool of himself.

"I mean, I know Pactolos was really nowhere near your Bucephalas in strength or ability but he did save me that day," he wound down, feeling like a complete idiot. The king did not want to know about his stupid little life and he sure as hell didn't want to know about his horse!

"I had no idea you had so much knowledge about my stables. Your enthusiasm is ... intoxicating." The King put his hand on Alex’s back, "Come... look at this mare. She's going to be bred within the next few weeks, her lineage is impeccable. Have you ever watched horses mate... Alexandros?" he asked, close to the young soldier's ear.

"I...erm..." Alex was suddenly very aware of the King’s body, the man’s body heat practically pushing into him. "Y-yes of course, I mean, who hasn’t, we’re all army men here," he stammered.

"Army men... and boys," the king caressed Alexandros' arm and started to back him up against the door of the stall. "I often watch. Nature is a wondrous thing, and untamed passion... even more wondrous. Would you like to watch with me? Mmm?" his mouth skimmed the boy's cheek, and he drew in his scent.

Alex’s eyes widened as he felt the king’s mouth on his skin. He was reacting! What the hell was he doing, reacting like that to the king! The man was just being friendly and he should feel honoured to be the recipient of such attention not fucking stand to attention himself!

"I...of course," he replied dazedly.

"Good answer."

Spike coughed just as the King's mouth started to descend on Alexandros'. Why in Hades was he taking his life into his own hands when that nothing son of a sheepherder seemed to be enjoying himself and wasn't looking for help?

"Yes?" Frustrated, the King snarled the word.

"Sorry Sir, I came for Alexandros. He's on patrol duty and the sergeant master won't be pleased if he's late. Unless I may tell him that you..."

Spike kept his gaze as neutral as possible, even though the filthiest curses were filtering through his brain.

"No. Go on," the King moved away. "I'll summon you... until then..." he kissed Alexandros' forehead and walked out.

He was seething. Literally seething at Alex's soft expression. Unable to bear it a moment longer, he turned on his heels and walked out. "You'd best not be late. I paid good money to get you patrol duty."
Alex was watching his namesake walk away when Spike spoke. He very slowly turned his head towards his friend's retreating back, eyes narrowing into a glare.
"YOU DID WHAT?!"
"Did you want to spend all night here? You heard me," slamming the half gate and exiting the stables, Spadakos strode into the cool night.

"Maybe I did!" Alex followed his friend, running until he reached him. "You had no right to do this, no right at all," he snapped, falling into step next to him.

"Idiot! Malake!" Spike pushed him against a tree, "he was going to... he was..." Did Alexandros want it... "You wanted it... you...." He spit on the ground, turned around and stalked away. "Go back to him then, I'll take your patrol."

"Don't be a bastard Spike," Alex yelled, angry at being called soft on top of everything. "What do you care anyway, it's none of your fucking business. Why don't you go fuck a goat or something," he snapped and walked off to do his patrol duty.

* * *

[Present]

Seeing that Xander had fallen asleep, Spike bent down and kissed his cheek, then sat down with his elbows on his knees and chin resting on the knuckles of his interlocked fingers. He hoped to God the boy would sleep the rest of the night and that there would be no more pain.

* * *

Spike paced the hospital room as the nurses helped Xander get dressed. He wanted to help... he wanted to be the one that put his shirt on, and helped him with his buttons, and told him not to worry about being off balance. When would this process be over... when?

Xander complained continuously as the nurse insisted he go into a wheel chair.

"I don't need one, I can walk just fine! I do have another eye you know, it can see perfectly fine," he said for the millionth time as he was made to sit on the blasted contraption. "So long as someone points out where the walls are at, I can walk!"

The nurse just sighed and pushed the chair out of the room and down the corridor.

Spike followed behind them, helpless. Xander had no clue how much each of his eye jokes felt like barbs to Spike's heart, and he wanted to keep it that way. Right, he had no heart... but it hurt just the same.

When they reached the front doors, he had to hang back. "I'll see you at home," he said, suddenly a bit unsure of his continued welcome at Xander's place. No reason for that to have changed, but he might be wrong.

"What?" Xander turned back towards Spike to ask him to come along for the ride but Spike was already gone. He stared at the empty corridor, a feeling of foreboding crowding in his stomach. So it had started then. He'd hoped after last night but...well, it wasn't much of a surprise was it. After all, Spike could have anybody he wanted.

"Here we are," the nurse said, seeing a car pull up and Xander's friends come out of it. She started to push the chair.

"Hey girls!" He grinned at his girls, genuinely happy to see them. "Check out the wheels! Nurse Ratchett here won't let me pop a wheelie," he pouted, delighting in the smiles he caused.

"Yeah, well... not used to racing in hospitals," Buffy said, giving a wry smile and opening the door for him. "Xan, you wanna stay at the house? Everyone's waiting to see you." The tension had steadily been building at the house, she didn't know if it was a good place for him to be, but if she just took him to his place, she was sure everyone would accuse her of something.

The house...with all the itty bitty slayers fussing over him and Andrew fussing over him some more. "Erm...Buff? Would you be horribly offended if I said I wanted to go home? Where there are no stairs to fall down and no estrogen overload to baby me?"

"No, of course not. And we'll come see you, and... you can come too, you know, whenever you're ready." She swallowed.

Willow gave him a half hug. "I can come with, you know? I'm not so bad with the cooking."

"No it's fine Will, I have to learn how to...I have to learn, right?" He didn't want to say the words, didn't want to use the word handicap because it meant so many things and none of them were good for him. He'd already been the less useful of the Scoobs but with this...thing, he was completely useless. Can't fix a window if you have no depth-perception, can't help the Slayer train, can't do anything.

There was a long silence, brief glances that barely touched, a deep sadness that none of them knew how to reach or fix. And then it was over, and Xander got in the car, and the girls piled in. There was chatter, some of it forced, some of it real, all of it surreal. None of the believed what had happened, and every time they saw the black patch ... it was a sharp reminder.

The girls accompanied him to his place, and made sure he had a drink. But they ran out of things to talk about, and Buffy had to go back and make sure the others were training. They couldn't slack off, not now... and with Faith among them, she'd just bet there would be encouragement of slacking.

"Call us if you want anything. I can come get you when you're ready to come over," Buffy said as she left and gave Willow and Xander a moment alone.

Xander looked at the floor, the couch, the walls...anywhere but at Willow.

"So, I guess you're stuck with me then, huh?" Willow said. Xander smiled to himself as he recognized all the signs of a clearly determined-to-be-chipper Willow. Bouncing knee, check, overdone gestures, check, an expression that was half resolve, half crooked smile, check. She never could keep it up for long. Way too emotional, his Willow.

"We could order in from that Greek place around the corner! A...and watch Charmed. You like the half-naked witches." Her voice cracked at the end and that was when Xander looked up. Because he could never resist comforting Willow when she was upset.

"Hey, it’s okay," he said, opening his arms for her. She hesitated, just sitting there looking at him with those big eyes, trying so hard to be strong for him. "You have to come to me, if I try to hug you I might get air instead," he joked feebly, "Depth perception shot to hell, remember?"

That did it, gave him an armful of Willow.

"I’m sorry," she sniffed, "I’m supposed to be all strong and help you and all I’m doing is getting your shirt wet."

"You are helping me," Xander replied, resting his cheek on the top of her head, "You’re here and you care for me even if I’m useless." He closed his eyes, he had not meant to say that.

Willow immediately reacted, pulling out of his arms and slapping him lightly on the shoulder.

"You are not useless," she said with a glare, "Don’t you even think that, mister. You saved the world remember? With your mouth," she smiled a little at him. "No eyes needed for the world saving."

Xander just shrugged and went back to looking at the floor. It all seemed so far away now, as if it’d happened to someone else.

"Hey," Willow stepped close again, wrapping her arms around him. "You know I love you, right? More than anyone." She was silent until he nodded an acknowledgement, "So you have to get better. Because I will so fall apart if I don’t have you around. Mine and Buffy’s white knight, remember? We need you."

Xander nodded again, throat clogged with tears he was fighting not to shed, wishing desperately that he could be alone for a while. Willow knew him as well as he knew her it seemed, because she dropped a kiss on his cheek and asked him to promise to take care of himself. Then she left, giving him the space he needed to adjust.

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Time After Time Series