DISCLAIMER: I do not own Willow, Xander or Giles. They belong to Wb&co.
RATING: Oh, what the heck. Make it 'R'.
CONTENT: Swearing. Graphic violence. Maybe not by most standards but I don't want upset emails saying I didn't warn you.
SPOILERS: 'Becoming'.
SUMMARY: When something horrible happens to Xander, only Willow is there to help him. But is she up to the test?
Text enclosed in ::s indicates thoughts or feelings.
by: Catoninetails
Willow stared at the piece of paper in front of her, not really seeing it. All around her was the hum of pencils scratching, the low mutter of students concentrating on a test, but Willow's mind was dimensions away.
Well, not quite. Much of her thought was centered four seats away, resting on her childhood friend and companion Xander Harris. Who was also looking at the final exam as if it were written in Chinese characters.
A year ago, maybe a year and a half, Willow Rosenberg had been in love with him. Deeply, hopelessly in love. Xander, however, wanted only to maintain his more casual friendship, and had never acknowledged or returned her feelings.
His efforts had backfired. Over the past year, all the trials and hard times they had gone through, Willow and Xander's relationship had grown seriously strained. They now barely talked to each other, and when they happened to be in the library at the same time this summer one would quickly find an excuse to leave. And ever since the morning Buffy had vanished, a week ago now, and Xander's lies were revealed to the rest of the group, things were even farther down the tubes. Up until yesterday, Willow had used her wheelchair as an excuse for not talking to him much, but she could no longer claim that excuse.
Willow clenched her fists in her lap, snapping the pencil. ::I think I wish he was dead,:: she thought, with surprisingly little emotion. ::Just because things would be simpler then.::
The bell rang, and Willow's head snapped up to look at the clock. The make-up exam period was over, and Willow hadn't answered a single question. She sighed deeply. Only one more chance to complete this final, or she would get a failing grade. Somehow, the prospect of expulsion no longer seemed so frightening as it had three years ago.
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Willow trudged gloomily into the library. The first person she saw was Giles, coming out of his office with one of those 'Emergency Medical Kits' that seemed to be the latest fad around here. "Hi, Giles," she said dispiritedly.
Giles looked up to see her. "Hello, Willow. A-any news from Buffy?" He wasn't even very hopeful, but this was how he started all his conversations nowadays.
"No," she said miserably. "I haven't heard from her. I don't even know if she's... alive." She cracked on the last word, but managed to get it out in the open.
Giles' face closed. "No. We don't know," he said. "And, Willow? I-I was just thinking, per-perhaps you should get your mind off Buffy..."
Willow didn't want to get her mind off Buffy, but it was obvious that Giles did, so she merely said, "Sure, Giles. What's on your mind?"
Giles set the box on one of the reading tables and opened it. "It has occurred to me that with the Slayer... absent, from the Hellmouth, then each of us should be able to take care of ourselves. Now for the most part, simple caution -- for example, never leaving the house after sundown without taking a cross -- should suffice, but I thought it prudent if you and Xander, at least, learned some self-defense techniques, as well as --" he tapped the box, "rudimentary medical training."
"First aid?" Willow interrupted, stopping him before he went off on a tangent even more unstoppable than the one he was on now, "But Giles, I-I can't do first aid. I faint at the sight of blood."
Giles looked momentarily floored, but soon retaliated. "Still, you should have the basic knowledge. In the heat of a crisis, knowing what to do can mean the difference between life and death."
During this speech, Xander had come out of the stacks. He was leafing through a book he held, and didn't notice Willow and Giles talking immediately. When he did, he stopped in his tracks.
For a frozen moment, Willow didn't know how to react. She took a deep breath, wanting to start a conversation, wanting to make things right between them, but she just couldn't find the words. After a moment of silence, she tried again.
"Xander," she said flatly, without emotion. "Do you need something?"
Xander opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. "I got it," he said, indicating the book.
Giles, sensing the extreme tension between the two, looked away, uncomfortable, and cleared her throat.
"Then you can leave." ::No, Willow thought, that isn't what I meant to say! ::
Xander nodded, looking subdued, and started for the exit. As he reached the doors, he hesitated, then turned back and blurted, "Willow, I--"
"Xander," Willow said, cutting him off. All of a sudden, she was tired, so tired... so tired of fighting Xander, so tired of all the complications, so tired of living on a Hellmouth. One more thing and she'd crack. "I don't want to hear it. I just... don't."
Xander stared at her for another endless moment, then his shoulders slumped and he walked out of the library.
Willow took a deep breath, and held it in, afraid to let it out for fear of breaking into tears. She turned back to Giles. "Go on," she said. "First aid."
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Xander trudged along the road home, mostly oblivious to his surroundings. He was too far sunk into his depression to even care for his own safety. Therefore, he didn't notice the man following him, sticking to the shadows.
::Oh joy,:: Xander thought. ::Seems like I can look forward to another happy evening at home trying to think up ways to get Willow to listen to my apologies. At least my parents are out of town, I don't have to deal with them.::
He stuck his hands into his pockets and sighed, hanging his head.
His stalker crept even closer, fingering a knife.
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Despite Willow's apprehensions, learning first aid was actually kind of intriguing. She had intended to listen politely, make all the proper responses, and escape at first opportunity, but soon Willow found herself paying close attention to Giles' instructions, repeating them silently to herself so she didn't forget. Glancing at her watch, though, she realized that she really had to get home.
"Giles?" she said, interrupting him mid-sentence. "This is really interesting, but I gotta go. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow, and we can continue?"
Giles gave her a disapproving glance, obviously mistaking her hasty exit for disrespect. "You really should take this more seriously, Willow. In the heat of the moment, someone else's life may depend on how well you have this down."
Willow looked distressed. "But I don't want to be depended on!" she cried. "I-I couldn't take that responsibility! What if I fail? I-I don't want to have that hanging over me."
"Nobody does, Willow, but these moments come. You can't just freeze life in one place and hope that nothing bad will happen. The best you can do is be prepared."
During this speech, Willow had gathered up her stuff. Giles' words disturbed her deeply, but she tried not to let it show. She seemed to be getting better at hiding her emotions. "I gotta go," she mumbled, and fled. She grabbed the kit as she went.
Outside the school, Willow stopped and contemplated. After the little scene in the library today, she needed more than ever to talk with Xander. As soon as possible. Without giving a thought to her parents, who would probably be frantic with worry, she set off in the direction of Xander's house.
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As Xander passed an the mouth of an alley, barely ten feet from his door, a shadow leapt out and grabbed him, pulling him into the darkened street. Momentarily startled, Xander soon tried to fight back, illogically reaching for the cross in his pocket.
"Don't give me any of that shit, man!" hissed his attacker. "Just give me your fucking money, and you can go. Mess with me, and you ain't gonna like what happens to you." The man -- boy really, he couldn't be much older than Xander himself, although a great deal shabbier.
Xander twisted free of his adversary's grip and leapt away. "Let go of me, asshole!" he retorted, looking around for something to use as a weapon. His assailant wasn't buying, however, and, as Xander turned to face him, punched the younger boy in the mouth with all of his strength. Stunned, Xander offered no resistance as the man pinned his arms, bringing the knife forward.
"You're gonna regret that, boy," snarled the mugger. Xander attempted to kick him in the kneecaps, but his more street-wise opponent anticipated the move, and with a nasty semi-judo kick, Xander fell flat on the ground. His leg twisted under him as he fell, and upon landing he heard a distinct, sickening ::crack.::
Gasping, Xander looked up to see his ambusher looming over him.
"Now," said the man, squatting down beside him, fingering the edge of his knife, "Pay day. Where's your fucking money?"
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Willow paused at Xander's door, nerving herself up to knock. Truth be told, she really didn't want to do this; she was never come-out-and-express-her-feelings girl. But if there was one thing she had learned in the past two years, it was that not-talking would only lead to more pain. She had already lost a friend, a teacher and maybe another friend. Willow was on the edge; any more of this madness and... and... she would do something rash. In a burst of courage tinged with desperation, she knocked.
No answer. Upset, Willow knocked again. He had left before she had, he had to be home by now. Unless he was off somewhere else, wanting to be by himself. Unless he wanted to be with Cordelia. Unless--
Unless something had happened to him.
Willow turned, slowly, a knot of fear forming in her stomach. ::Calm down girl,:: she told herself, ::you're jumping to conclusions it's probably nothing Xander's fine it'sfineit'sfineit's--::
Suddenly, Willow became aware of faint sounds, further down the block. Sounds of a scuffle, and two male voices raised in shouts. One voice she knew, oh so very well...
"Xander!" Willow yelled, but what had meant to be a shout came out as a whisper. Slowly, feeling like she was floating, Willow's feet carried her forward.
Like a slow motion scene in a movie, the image in the alley panned into focus. One man, covered in shadows, crouched on the alley floor. His back was to Willow, and was absorbed in something in front of him. Whatever it was, he was blocking the view.
There was blood on the man's hands, Willow realized as one of them moved through a patch of light. Blood on his hands and his clothes and on the walls and on the ground --
She was not even aware that she was screaming until the mugger reacted. Jerking around, surging to his feet, Willow could clearly see the large knife in his hand. Wet. Dripping.
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For a moment, the robber hesitated, then turned to run. The girl's constant screaming was certain to bring someone down on him, and he had what he wanted, anyway. Pausing in his flight, he muttered a vicious curse at the prone figure on the ground, following it with a savage kick. His victim barely reacted. Without giving a second thought to his day's work, the mugger melted into the deepening shadows.
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Willow could barely force her legs to carry her to the fallen man's side, tears crystallizing her sight. When she caught a glimpse of his face, bloody, ravaged, she fell trembling to her knees. "Xander, Xander, ohmygod, Xander, no, no, nononono..."
Xander's eyes were open; wide open. He stared into Willow's face, but she felt that he was barely seeing her.
"Willow," he managed. "Thank God you're here."
All right, maybe he did see her. "N-no," she said. "Be quiet, Xander. Y-you're hurt."
"No shit, Willow. I-I--" a fleeting smile washed over his features, followed immediately by a spasm of pain. "This wasn't the way I pictured our reconciliation. But, Willow, I meant to say..."
"What?" Willow said, gulping back hysteria.
"...I have to say... I-I'm sorry."
"No, no," she assured him. "It's okay. N-now, just relax, a-and I'll... I'll..." ::I'll what?:: Call Giles? Not enough time. Get him to a hospital? Not enough time. ::In the heat of a crisis, other people's lives may depend on your own.:: She had to act now, now, while Xander still hovered on the step between life and death. ::It's too soon! I'm not ready! I can't handle this! Somebody do something...:: There was only her, and him.
Her hyperconsciousness fixated itself on the blood that was all around. So bright. So red. So much of it... Everywhere she looked, she could see it; the very sight pounded itself into her consciousness. ::I'm going to faint,:: she thought calmly.
But she didn't. All reason deserted her, the gears of her emotions ground to a halt. She reached out, with fingers that did not even tremble, and took Xander's hand.
Memories cascaded through her mind; instead of her own life flashing before her eyes, she was seeing his. But every peaceful memory seemed to melt out of existence next to this horror on the ground in front of her. And not just that. Every horror Willow had witnessed over the past two years burst into her mind's eye, as real as if she were right there.
Abruptly, an calmness fell on her as another vision appeared. Giles, in the library, earlier that day, eagerly explaining to her the fine points of first aid to her.
::Right. ::
"Don't leave me..." Xander gasped.
"I won't. Be quiet now... I'll fix you up. Just let me help." Still with the abnormal calmness.
Another smile passed over his face, more slowly as his consciousness faded out. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he relaxed.
"I'll take care of you," Willow reassured him, even though he could no longer hear her.
First aid. Right. Get the victim somewhere warm, and dry, and comfortable as possible. ::That would be Xander's house.:: Without even thinking about it, Willow stood up, reached down, and carefully picked Xander up.
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Up in Xander's room, Willow carefully laid Xander on the bed. She put the white plastic box on his end table and began to pull out bandages. Coolly and efficiently, she dressed the long, jagged knife wounds. Observing the abnormal position of his leg, she took a moment to collect herself, and judge the angle of the break, and set it.
"Sorry," she told him. "It's for your own good." For a moment she was worried that she had hurt him, but he was unresponsive to anything she did.
She found herself humming as she went about her gruesome business. ::I believe I'm actually kinda good at this,:: she thought. As she dug out another blanket from his closet, she began talking aloud to her patient.
"You'll see, Xander, when you wake up, how different everything will be. Better. See, now, we've made up already. I'm sure Buffy will come back soon. I'm sure she will. Maybe she'll be unhappy, but I'll help her. We'll all help her. We'll be a team again, Xander. With Buffy as the Slayer, and Giles as the Watcher, and me... I'm the Healer. Starting today, with you. I think I'm going to enjoy taking care of you."
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Some time later, when she had satisfied herself that her friend was sleeping peacefully, Willow was in the bathroom, methodically washing her hands, over, and over, and over again. The water ran clear, but Willow was still sure that there was blood on her hands, hidden, tricksy... She had already washed her clothes, and was borrowing some of Xander's, and cleaned off all the blood on the floor and even all the blood outside the house. The blood in the alley she left alone.
With a sigh, Willow shut off the water and went to check on Xander. A peek under one of the bandages assured her that the bleeding had stopped already.
"That's a good thing," she told him as she worked to change the red-drenched cloth. "It's a sure sign that you're getting better already." After a moment's thought, Willow went back into the bathroom and collected some painkillers, sleeping tablets, and water. He would need those, when he woke up. Then she went downstairs and made him a sandwich. His favorite kind. He would want that, when he woke up.
Another check, and Willow was sure that everything that needed doing was done, and she settled down in the chair next to his bed to wait for him to wake up, so she could show him everything she had done for him. It might be a while before he regained consciousness, but she would wait.
"I'll get you all better soon," Willow promised Xander, patting his cold hand comfortingly. "You'll see. All better," she repeated. "You stayed in the hospital for me, so I'll stay here until you wake up."
In her insanity, trapped between life and death, Willow did not even realize that Xander had been dead before he ever got into the house.