"...and as you can see, this would be an excellent place for several 
people to live," the woman from the realty office said. "This place just opened 
up; now that the college is out for the summer, a lot of the students are going 
away for vacation."
	"Mmm. We're students ourselves," Buffy said, looking at the layout of 
the place. "But we're local. We like to stick close to home."
	"So, um, what was this land before it was developed?" Willow asked.
	"The land? Just some woodlands."
	"Oh. So not a cemetary, or a burial ground of any kind."
	"No," the realtor said, as though she was asked this sort of question all 
the time. "We learned our lesson on that over at Hooper Estates."
	"Would you mind if I spoke with my associate here for a moment?" 
Buffy asked.
	"Not at all. Take a look around." The realtor walked into another room 
as Buffy and Willow conferred.
	"What do you think?" Willow asked.
	"I like the view. It'll be nice at sunset. Plus we're within walking 
distance of three of the cemeteries."
	"You know, I never thought I'd reach a point in my life where I'd 
consider that to be a good."
	"The only problem's the rent. I don't know if you, me and Tara can 
swing it."
	"We can if we get a fourth roommate."
	"Willow--"
	"He'll go for it."
	"He won't go for it."
	"He will." Willow's features began to arrange themselves into resolve 
formation.
	"Okay. You win," Buffy said, hands raised. "But you're the one who 
has to convince him."
	"I always am."
	"Ms. Burnham?" Buffy called out. "We'll take it!"

	There was a distant whump from behind him as the fire reached the ice 
cream truck's gas tank. It barely drowned out the angry shouts of his 
employer--his former employer. The boss had come down to the scene of the 
accident to fire him personally.
	It wasn't his fault. Honestly, it wasn't. Well, okay, in a sense it was, but 
what else was he supposed to do? When he saw an Erghon demon, his first 
instinct was to try and run the carnivorous thing over. How was he supposed 
to know that the demon would fall under the truck, grab on to the fusilage, 
smash his way inside, and embroil him in a life-or-death struggle?
	Well, at least the fire would take care of the carcass...it was his own 
carcass he was worried about now. He had no idea what he was going to do. 
He didn't know if he could bear to move on to yet another shit job, and even 
if he could, the tourists and summer kids were here now, and they'd take all 
the jobs.
	Which meant another summer shaking his booty for dollars.
	Screw it. There was more dignity in that than any job that required a 
paper hat. He'd go to The Stable tonight, see if they were hiring.
	"Xander!" Anya, his girlfriend, came running up to him. "I've been looking 
for you! Are you all right?"
	"Me? Oh, yeah. Nothing a little skin graft won't cure," he said, accepting a kiss.
 "Hey. How are you doing?"
	"Great. I'm almost ready to go."
	"Great. Hey, you wouldn't believe what just--" Click. "Go?"
	"Yes." She looked at him in confusion. "Remember? My roommates 
invited me to spend the summer on Cape Cod with them."
	"You have roommates?"
	"Of course I do. They're demons. I'm sure I mentioned that."
	"No, An. You never mentioned roommates, demons, or a trip to Cape 
Cod." A horrible thought struck him. "Um...none of them are Erghon demons, 
are they?"
	"Of course not! I like to wake up with my limbs not chewed off, thank 
you very much."
	"When did this Cape thing happen?" Xander asked.
	"Last month. When you guys were doing that Initiative thing."
	"You mean saving human and demon-kind from the maniacal master 
plan of a twisted genius?" he asked wryly.
	"Well, if you want to dress it up, then yeah."
	"Nope. You never told me about this."
	"Oh." Long pause as they walked. "Are you mad?"
	"I don't care."
	"Oh." Another long pause. "That's worse, isn't it?"
	"It sort of is, yeah."
	"I'm sorry," Anya said. He checked her expression; it actually did look 
sort of remorseful.
	"Look..." He sighed. "I don't know. Do what you want. When will you 
be back?"
	"September," she said quietly. "You could come if you want."
	"I don't think that'd work, do you?"
	"Probably not," she admitted.
	"When do you leave?"
	"Tomorrow morning."
	He nodded.
	"Then I'll see you off."
	"So, um, what happened to you? You're all scorched and bruised."
	"Nothing. Just the high point of my day."

	"Xander?" Buffy eased the cellar door open and peeked inside. She could see 
Xander lying on his bed, flat on his back. "Hello?"
	"Hmm?" He sat up, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Oh, hey, Buffster. 
How ya doin'."
	"Uh...okay. Are you smoking?" She walked in and sat in a chair near the bed.
	"Yep." He lay back down, staring at the ceiling. "Found a pack when I was doing 
laundry. Must be one of my dad's."
	"And you're smoking why?"
	"Well, let's see. I just lost yet another job, but at least it was in the line of duty this time; 
found that Erghon demon. My girlfriend has left town to spend the summer on Cape Cod 
with her literally demonic roommates, none of who I knew existed. I'm a nineteen year old 
moron who couldn't get into college living in his parents' basement. So, seeing as how my 
life's completely in the shitter, I thought I'd pick up smoking. Hasten my descent."
	Buffy plucked the cigarette from his lips and tossed it over her shoulder, where it 
landed in the sink.
	"The self-pity I can understand," she said. "I mean, I've been known to indulge. 
But nicotine isn't the answer."
	"Yeah, I know, but I couldn't find any booze."
	"What are you going to do now?"
	"I found a new job," he said.
	"Well, that's good. Doing what?"
	"Do you know what I was doing on Oxnard last summer?"
	"You didn't elaborate," she said amusedly. "But I got the idea 
that it involved loud music and very little clothing."
	"Please kill me," Xander moaned.
	"Xander..."
	"Seriously. Come on. One good shot to the dome. Put me out of my 
misery."
	"Look, there's got to be some other job you could do..."
	"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Xander sat up, rubbed his face. 
"I've been canned from every job in this town that involves paper hats 
and/or name tags."
	"What, strippers don't get name tags?" Buffy stood and tugged on 
Xander's arm. "Come on. The Bronze beckons."
	"Not for me."
	"Get up," Buffy ordered. "You know, Willow and I have been looking 
for you all day. We've got something we need to talk to you about."
	"Evil?"
	"No, surprisingly enough. Come on, get up. And get a mint. 
Your breath stinks."

	"And she didn't tell you she was going?!" Willow exclaimed. They 
were seated around a table in the Bronze, Willow, Xander, Buffy, Riley, Tara 
and Giles. 
	"Nope."
	"That's pretty frigid," Riley said. Buffy beamed. She'd been training 
him in the use of slang.
	"So what do you intend to do now?" Giles asked.
	"Ah, you know, the usual. I've got a job lined up."
	"Doing what?" Tara asked.
	"Stripping." He caught himself just in time. "Paint off houses. Stripping 
paint off houses. And boats. Working for a paint company."
	"Why didn't you go with her?" Willow asked.
	"Ohhhh no. That's what got me all screwed up last summer. I skipped 
town for a couple months and you guys started developing these Xander-free 
lives. Never again."
	"Aw, come on," Willow said. "We couldn't live Xander-free. They 
don't even have a patch for that yet." Such pronouncements were what he 
lived for, and he smiled.
	"Well, if you're working, then I guess we can extend you an 
invitation." Buffy smiled at Tara and Willow conspiratorially.
	"An invitation to what?"
	"An invitation to live. W-with us." Tara handed him a brochure. 
"We're renting a house. No more dorm life."
	"When you say we..."
	"Me, Tara and Buffy," Willow said. "And you. At the fabulous 
Scooby Estates!" She smiled. "That's just a tentative name. We're open 
to suggestions."
	"Me?" Xander looked at the brochure. "I don't know..."
	"What's not to know?" Buffy asked. "You got your own room, your 
own bathroom..."
	"Half a bathroom," Tara added.
	"We needed the one with the tub in it," Willow continued.
	"But you've got a shower!"
	"Full kitchen, utilities provided by the rental company...cable, 
Xander," Buffy said in her best seductive voice. "We've got cable."
	"Yeah, but...Riley, you're not getting in on this?"
	"Me? Noooo," Riley said, shaking his head. "I'm going back to Iowa 
for the summer, and after that, I'm getting my own place."
	"Giles?"
	"Give up my house? Are you mad? It's rent-controlled!"
	"What's the matter?" Willow asked. "We don't have cooties."
	"Yeah, I know. I just don't know how comfortable I'd be as the only 
guy in the house."
	"You're worried about being the only guy in a house full of three--and I 
think I can use this description safely--hot babes?" Buffy asked. "Who are 
you and what have you done with Xander?"
	"You know what I mean," Xander said. 
	"But we need you!" Willow said.
	"For what?"
	"To get stuff off tall shelves. What do you think?" Buffy asked.
	"We need you because you're you, and we need a fourth roommate, 
and you're the person we want," Willow added. "To move in. And be there."
	"And get stuff off tall shelves," Tara concluded.
	Xander looked down, smiling. Quite the pitch, that.
	"What's the rent?"
	Willow told him.
	"What?! My parents have been charging me double that! Those 
bastards! Screw it, I'm in!"
	"Yayness!" Willow said, giving him a brief hug. "This is gonna be 
great!"
	"Oh, yes," Giles said. "This'll be good for the vampires, too. They'll 
just have the one stop now."
	Everyone stared at him.
	"What? Can't I be sarcastic once in a while?"

	It was a couple of hours later when everybody started drifting off. 
Xander was walking away on his own when Willow ran up beside him.
	"Hey there, roomie!" She smiled brightly. "I love that! Roomies!"
	"I gotta admit, it's got potential for swellness," Xander said.
	"When are you gonna tell your folks?"
	"Soon as I get home." His grin wavered a little but hung in there. 
"Leaving the basement at last."
	"It's a good thing, Xander."
	"Oh, no doubt. So. You, me, Buffy and Tara."
	"Yup."
	"Uh...this is kind of a delicate question, but...are you and Tara gonna 
be sharing a room?"
	She looked at him in surprise.
	"Would that make you uncomfortable?"
	"Me? No, I'm just curious."
	"Oh. Well, no. I think it's a little soon into the relationship for 
cohabitation." She looked at him suspiciously. "How about you? Come 
September, is Anya gonna be moving in?"
	"Pfft!" Xander pffted. "The way I feel right now...we'll see. We'll see 
what we'll see."
	"Right." She put an arm around his shoulder. "Tell you what; I'll see 
you home. Lend a little moral support."
	"Moral support might not be what I need. You packin' any weapons?"

	She sat in one of Xander's chairs, paging through the latest issue of 
Strangers in Paradise and eavesdropping shamelessly. She could barely 
hear Xander's parents, but she could hear Xander quite clearly.
	"No, I'm not gonna change my mind."
	Something from Xander's dad.
	"He called? ...Well, so what? It was a job driving an ice cream truck, 
for God's sake..."
	Something from Xander's mom.
	"Look, I'm fine. I've got a new job."
	Something from Xander's mom.
	"Just...a job!"
	Xander's mom.
	"No, Mom, I am not a drug dealer."
	Xander's mom.
	"I live in my parent's basement! You ever seen a drug dealer who lived 
with his parents?!"
	Xander's mom.
	"That kid in American Beauty doesn't count!" Willow rolled her 
eyes.
	Xander's dad.
	"Yeah. Yeah, that's great, dad."
	Xander's dad.
	"I'm moving out, dad."
	Xander's dad.
	"Fine. I'll never amount to anything. Great. Whatever. I'm going to go 
not amount to anything someplace else from now on." Willow was glad she 
couldn't remember spells word-for-word. If she did, she would have lit Mr. 
Harris' head on fire just then.
	Xander's dad.
	"...What?" He sounded shocked, hurt.
	Xander's dad.
	"...Fine."
	The door at the top of the stairs opened and Xander came tromping 
down.
	"When are we moving into this place?" he asked.
	"Uh...it's open now. We picked up the keys this afternoon. Why?"
	"I'm leaving tonight, and I don't trust them not to trash my stuff once 
I'm gone."
	"You don't?"
	He shook his head.
	"You wanna talk about it?"
	"I just wanna get the hell out of here, Will."
	"Okay. I'll be back soon."
	She walked outside, leaving Xander to pack.
	Neither of them heard the doorknob at the top of the stairs turning, or 
the lock giving way.

	It was about an hour later when Riley's truck pulled around the back of 
the Harris house. Willow hopped out of the passenger side and headed for the 
basement door.
	"Xander?"
	"In here," he said in a choked voice.
	She walked in; the place had been packed hurriedly. The walls were 
free of posters and the ornaments Xander had accumulated over the years. 
The bed was stripped of sheets. But that's not what Willow noticed.
	What she noticed was Xander's split lip.
	"Xander!" she cried. "What happened?"
	"I don't want to talk about it. Let's just go."
	"Did he--" Her face lit up with anger. "Did he try and--"
	"Relax." He raised a fist, displaying a set of bloody knuckles. "You 
should see the other guy." He picked up a box. "Come on. Let's go."
	Xander walked outside. Willow was about to follow when she heard 
something at the top of the stairs. Her hands balling into fists, she walked to 
the stairs and looked up.
	A stocky figure stood at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the 
light, smoking a cigarette. Willow glared up at him.
	"You stay away from him," she growled.
	Nothing from the figure.
	"You come near him again and I'll kill you," she said, angrier than she 
could ever remember being. "You hear me?"
	The man at the top of the stairs scoffed.
	"I mean it." And she did; her anger was a physical thing at that moment. 
She felt like she could pick it up and hit him with it.
	The figure looked down at her for a long moment. Then he backed 
away from the doorway. The door closed. Willow was highly satisfied to hear 
the door lock.
	"Will?"
	Xander was looking at her from the outside doorway.
	"Hey." She walked over to the pile of boxes and lifted one. "Come on. 
Let's get out of this place."
	"Amen to that," Xander said, hoisting another box.
	"Are you sure you're okay?"
	"Yeah." He tried to smile. "He just pushed one button too many, you know?"
	"Why? What did he say?"
	"It doesn't matter," Xander said, walking outside.

	He'd heard it all before.
	Loser.
	Idiot.
	Accident. That one was a particular favorite.
	His old man had been in rare form when he'd come and announced that 
he was moving out. His mother had, particularly, burst into tears, and he felt 
a pang of guilt as he thought about it...but no. His mother could handle herself 
against his dad. She could give as good as she got.
	He knew that, all right.
	When his old man had kicked in the door, he wasn't all that surprised. 
He hadn't been looking forward to it, but he wasn't surprised.
	"So," the old man had said. "Goin' out in the world."
	"Yeah, Pop."
	"You know, I got a friend drives a beer truck. Says he saw you at the 
Stable today." His father grinned maliciously. "You know, I don't know 
what would be worse. Were you looking for work or were you there to 
get a little entertainment?"
	"I'd tell you if I thought you gave a shit one way or another 
about the answer."
	"Oh, so now your own father's opinion doesn't matter to you?"
	"Yeah, I'd hate lose your respect or anything like that, Dad."
	"Don't you backtalk me, boy!"
	"Yes, sir," Xander said. It was so very easy for him to hate himself 
when this man was around. "You know, I thought you'd be happy. Finally 
get your basement back."
	"Did it ever occur to you that maybe your rent money is what 
keeps this family afloat?"
	Xander had to laugh.
	"You think that's funny?"
	"I think it's funny that every moment you spend talking to me, you 
try to make me feel like shit, and now that I'm finally leaving, you try and 
guilt me into staying. Jesus, Dad, why don't you just buy a dog and 
torture that?"
	His father said nothing.
	"Your mother's cryin' her eyes out."
	"Yeah, well, mothers do that when their kids move away." 
He shrugged. "I saw that on TV once."
	"You just make sure you know what you're doing," his father said. 
"I don't want to see you crawling back here in a month."
	"This is the last place I'd crawl back to."
	"Oh, yeah. You'd probably go to that bitch girlfriend of yours, right? 
Or did she dump you too?"
	Xander said nothing.
	"Or maybe that other little piece of ass that keeps coming around here. 
The redhead."
	It was weird, the way his hands became fists all by themselves. 
He honestly didn't remember wanting to do that.
	"Whatsamatter?" his old man said. "Do you not like to hear that kind 
of talk about your little precious?"
	"You want to do this now?" Xander said, taking a step forward.
	His old man smiled, rolling up a sleeve.
	"Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, I want to do this now."
	Xander never saw that right hook coming.

	He'd gotten in a couple of good shots; his father would have a nasty 
shiner in the morning. But the fight was pathetically one-sided. It was instinct 
that did it. He'd learned long ago, don't try to fight back. Roll into a ball. 
Take the punishment.
	Don't let them see you cry.
	Now he sat in his room in the new house. The place was disconcertingly 
empty, even with his stuff piled in one corner of the room. He lay in his 
sleeping bag, looking at the light from the streetlamp shining through the 
window onto the ceiling.
	"Xander?" He'd left the door open, and now he could see Tara outside, 
peeking in. "Are you awake?"
	"Yeah," he said. "What are you doing here? Something wrong?"
	"Could you come downstairs for a minute?" she asked. "And bring 
your sleeping bag."
	"Uh...okay," he said, wriggling out of the bag.

	He stopped at the foot of the stairs.
	In the empty living room, Buffy and Riley were in a large sleeping bag. 
A few feet away, Willow was sitting on top of another sleeping bag, wearing 
a nightshirt.
	"Hi," she said.
	"Hey. What are you guys--"
	"We decided it wouldn't be fair if you spent the first night in Hotel 
Scooby all alone," Buffy said.
	"Thought you might want some company," Riley added.
	"We tried to get Giles to come, but he had s-some kind of problem with 
his back, and..." Tara trailed off. "He sent his regards."
	"Um...look, guys, you didn't have to--"
	"We know," Willow said, walking over to him. "We wanted to."
	She gave him a big hug; it didn't hurt, even though she was hugging all 
the places his father's boots had landed. She let him go.
	"Good night," she said, and settled into her bag, Tara beside her.
	Xander looked at his friends for a long moment.
	"Good night," he said in a choked voice. He lay his sleeping bag on the 
ground and crawled into it, dousing the light before he did.
	"Will?" he whispered.
	"Yeah?"
	"Thank you."
	He could feel her smile in the darkness.
	"Welcome home, Xander," she whispered.

I saw my life this morning
Lying at the bottom of a drawer
All this stuff I'm saving
God knows what this junk is for
And whatever I believed in
This is all I have to show
What the hell were all the reasons
For holding on for such dear life?
Here's where I let go...
I'm not running
I'm not hiding
I'm not reaching
I'm just resting in the arms of the great wide open
Gonna pull my soul in
And I'm almost home.
--Mary Chapin Carpenter

All of this is copyright Joss Whedon, except the stuff that isn't.