n o t . l i k e . y e a r s . a g o

Not Like Years Ago
[by victoria p.]

Rating: G

Summary: "It's not like years ago."

Spoilers: Wrecked, I guess, and a reference to the Connor arc on Angel. Possible future spoilers mentioned.

Notes: I blame Pete. And Michael Stipe. Thanks, as always, to Jen, Pete, Dot, Meg and Melissa. Also to Bonnie and Laura for the confidence boost.

More Notes: Three fandoms, three couples, one scenario. Based on Nightswimming by REM, but not songfic in the traditional sense.

Dedication: This one's for you, Pete.

Date: January 28, 2002

Willow stared at the full moon through the windshield. Her hands clutched the steering wheel of the rental car, and she noticed the tiny lines on her knuckles, which even her tight grip couldn't erase.

She didn't like to drive; hadn't since the accident with Dawn, all those years ago. She avoided it whenever she could, even now.

She shook her head. She was no longer that young woman. Ten years and half a dozen lifetimes had passed.

Yet here she was, back in Sunnydale. She'd left soon after the accident, unable to take being around so much supernatural power and not being allowed to use it.

She'd needed to get out, get away. She'd needed to be Willow again -- pre-Buffy Willow, if that were possible.

She'd learned it wasn't.

Now, she felt the need to go back to the beginning, when things had been simple and there was nothing in her world more important than Xander.

Xander, who looked stern and handsome with his rapidly graying hair. Raising two young daughters alone could do that to a man, even one who didn't live on the Hellmouth. She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened whenever she thought about Xander.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph of the two of them, taken back when they were in eighth grade, the night of their cotillion. Xander's goofy smile and clip-on tie made her smile, always, even after they'd had the final argument before she'd left, the argument that had ended over fifteen years of friendship.

She laid the picture on the dashboard, and, putting the car in drive, eased out of the hotel parking lot. Giles was staying there. He'd called them all together for one last go round at saving the world. He'd looked terrible, though they'd all lied and told him they hadn't noticed what the chemo was doing to him.

She didn't consciously choose her destination. She just wound up at the old swimming hole -- the lake just outside of town where she and Xander had used to come after their fall from grace, after they'd stopped being invited to pool parties in the warm summers of their childhood.

The moon was low and full, and the soft gray light spilled from it as if it overflowed, silvering the water and throwing everything into sharp relief.

She stopped the car and got out, already pulling her t-shirt over her head and throwing it on the seat. Being skyclad under a full moon was familiar, comforting, even long after she'd left most of the trappings of Wicca behind.

Nude in the humid August night, she picked her way through the grass to the water.

"Nice night for a swim."

Somehow, she'd known he'd be here. "Yeah."

"Well, come on in. The water's fine."

And Xander kicked out and floated on his back, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back on his head, making him look years younger.

She dipped a toe in and shivered. She wondered idly why she wasn't more embarrassed about her nudity, her body exposed to eyes that hadn't seen her, clothed or otherwise, in ten years.

"Come on, Will," he said again, his voice mild and holding none of the anger she'd expected when she'd arrived that afternoon at the Scooby Reunion, as he'd called it.

Well, it was a reunion of those Scoobies who were left. Anya was dead, and Tara -- gone. And *God*, it *still* hurt to think about Tara, because in the end, it had been her fault. Maybe not directly, and certainly not intentionally, but there it was. Tara was -- gone and Willow was here, having learned that running from the past never works. The thoughts tumbled over themselves in her mind as she inched her way into the water, hesitant not because of the cool waves lapping at her thighs, but from her own disbelief that she could ever be forgiven, ever forgive herself.

She began to shake as feelings she'd pushed down for years surfaced and she could no longer deny them an outlet.

And then Xander was there, pulling her into his arms as she cried.

"It's not your fault, Willow. It was never your fault," he whispered, stroking her hair and letting his warm solidity anchor her in the here and now when the past threatened to overwhelm her.

"I -- I," she stuttered, unable to form words, let alone a coherent thought.

He gathered her in and she wrapped her legs around him as he walked deeper into the water, letting its coolness wash away her grief.

Finally, she went limp, her tears exhausted, and he carried her onto the warm grass that lined the man-made lake.

"It's not safe," she whispered as he arranged them comfortably, her head on his chest, his legs tangled with hers.

"Shh, I got it covered, Will." He jerked his head and she saw within arm's reach a cross and a stake. "Father Willis blesses the lake monthly. I don't know if it actually works, but it makes me feel better."

"Who's got the girls?"

"Cordelia. She's really good with kids, which I never in a million years expected. I guess taking care of Dead Boy's kid has been a good thing for her."

"Yeah." After a few more minutes of silence, she said, "Xander, I -- thank you."

"Hey, it's what we do, right?" She nodded and he dropped a kiss on her drying hair. "I love you, Will. Never doubt that, please. I always have. Always will."

"I love you, too, Xander."

"So you'll stay?"

"In Sunnydale?"

"With me. Wherever."

She gave a small, quiet laugh. "Yeah. Wherever you go, Xander."

"I'm so glad you came home."

"Me, too."

She closed her eyes and inhaled, the scent of lake water and Xander filling her nostrils and permeating to the marrow of her bones. The sound of his heart beating beneath her ear reassured her that she wasn't alone.

She had come home to Xander and she would never be alone again.

The crickets played their lonesome serenade as Xander and Willow slept beneath the moon, which seemed to smile its benediction upon them.

End

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Disclaimer: All Buffy characters belong to Mutant Enemy et al.; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights. "Nightswimming" belongs to REM.