TITLE: Disbelief

AUTHOR: Wicked Raygun

E-MAIL: [email protected]

SUMMARY: How can something that seems so ideal, turn out so wrong?

RATING: PG-13. And that's a worse case scenario. Believe me, there's nothing here that even approaches offensive.

SPOILERS: General spoilers for seasons 1 through 6.

DISCLAIMOR: I refuse to believe this is necessary. Does anyone here actually believe I own this stuff in any way? Well… To the folks who do own a piece of the Buffster and/or her friends and enemies, I mean you no harm. I'm simply borrowing your toys to put on a little puppet show. I promise to bring them all back in near-mint condition. Even Spike.

FEEDBACK: Everyone needs a little love. It makes the world go round and writers post faster. Just remember that the next time you want to know what happened to Nonsense.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Wrote this on a whim during the summer hiatus after season six. I kept it around thinking I'd might use it for something else, but… Well, life got in the way, and frankly nothing's going to happen with this story. I got too much on my plate as it is. Still, I kind of like it so… Well, I had an idea.
AUHTOR'S NOTES 2: Also, for those who are interested in some of my other work, including Hero Complex, and Nonsense, it can be found here:

And here:

That's my brand spanking new website, created by the wonderful and talented Joanne W. and was the coolest Christmas gift ever! Please, go to her site, read her fine work and leave many reviews for her as well.

Now, onto the show.
I cannot believe I did that. Just what the hell was I thinking? Friends don't do that. Any of that. And for no where near that long.
What the hell kind of sick pervert am I? You'd think I would have gotten all this sick crap out of my system with Spike, but, oh, no. Plenty left for the only male bond I hadn't messed up yet. And I was really counting on this being one of those friendships that you have for a life time. Sure, I still got Willow. But that's only going to last long enough for me to tell her what I did, and then it's shun-Buffy time.
And the sad thing is, I really don't even have an excuse. Not a single one. Shoot, I can't even use the classic, "I was so drunk I didn't know who I was doing." At least with that, maybe I could salvage something in a few months.
But the facts are facts. Xander was liquored up; Buffy was not.
And you know what I'm really ticked off about? That he had to be drunk to sleep with me. Oh, sure, plenty of misery to spare going on, but I'm also plenty pissed… which leads to guilt, and then depressive thoughts of the suicidal variety.
God, it was like the Morning After From Hell, Part II.
There I was, smiling like an idiot, looking at his face as he slept, hoping for a repeat to last night's epic in the very near future, but when he woke up, what did I see? Not surprise. Heck, that would have been kind of funny. Not fear. That would have sucked, sure, but we could've had a talk or something. Not regret. That I could handle, I think. Well, okay maybe not so well, but definitely better then what I saw:
Complete and total horror.
There he was violently shaking his head in the most horrified denial I had ever seen. And here's the clincher… I know that look. It was exactly the same look that I had on my face after I realized I slept with Spike. Mirrors were not fun things to look at during those dark times. And that's what I'm going to be to him for the rest of his life: The mistake. The Dear-God-What-the-hell-was-I-thinking mistake.
Fitting, I guess. I have one. I still cringe when I think of what I did with Spike.
I mean, I know Xander had feelings for me. 'Had' being the operative word. Or, at least, I hope it was an operative word. Feelings don't go away. I get that now. The unhealthy, such as myself, bury them until it ends up swallowing you whole, as it ended up doing more times than I care to think about. But for those with a real shot at making something of their lives, they just accept them as part of who they are and move on. Always knowing it'll be there, but not allowing the angst to overwhelm them. And there's this wonderful sense of maybe. If the right stars align… who knows.
I reached that point. Made peace with my feelings for Angel, Riley, and, God help me, even Spike. I won't deny that anymore. There was something there. It wasn't love and it never would have been, but I'd be lying to myself if I said there wasn't something there.
Anyway, I didn't need the assurance of being wanted anymore. I just wanted to love and be loved back. A nice little epiphany if I do say so myself.
And Xander…
That summer was this strange contradiction of circumstances. We had lost more than we had ever dared fear we might lose, but, for once, we had hope. Real hope. All of us. Even Willow, thanks to Xander. He was just so strong. I mean, he was still recovering from losing Anya, but that didn't stop him from being this super-powered being. Taking on all crying shoulders, making funeral arrangements, working extra hours at his construction site, helping me patrol, rebuilding the Magic Box, and in doing so having to be in constant contact with his ex…
God, I couldn't help but be in awe of him. I mean… he's Xander. Anyone who knows him, knows how truly deep and profound that statement really is. It just crept up on me how much stronger he is than me in all the ways I wish I was.
Yep, falling for Xander was the easiest thing I ever did.
And that's what truly annoys me. Why the hell hadn't I given this a serious try, until now, when we both have so much baggage?
And I'll say this: I certainly wasn't arrogant enough to think he'd hold on to any serious feelings for me.
I just hoped I was still a maybe.
Sure, I'd never admit it to him, but he was always in my maybe pile. But things just… Well, they were complicated at best. One of us was always recovering from some latest kick in the head from our love lives. Except for one time. My freshman year of college, before Riley and, oh God help me, Parker. There was this, I don't know, feeling of inevitability… Like, our lives had led me up to this shot at him…
But I was terrified and still holding onto Angel's ghost. So what did I do? Pulled a Freudian and slept with some jerk who looked like Xander. Really hated myself once I figured that one out. I saw Parker in the cafeteria and went over to him, thinking he was my current new obsession. The shock of realizing he wasn't Xander was quickly followed by how much they looked alike. Add to that realization that I'd actually been paying attention in Professor Walsh's Psych Class, and well… I realized I felt something for the big lug.
Of course, by that time Xander had Anya, so then the sudden admirations of one Riley Finn were looking really appealing. Funny, looking back on it, I'd always allowed myself to believe that I moved on to Riley to forget about Angel...
Another fun thing to wonder about, now that Xander hates me. Oh, no, wait, I'm being generous. Xander is actually disgusted that he had anything to do with me. That's so much better.
So that's my life up to this point.
I wanted to know if he felt anything for me… I got my answer. I think I'll just lay here on my bed and cry for a really long time.
That sounds pretty productive.
Ah, yes, you're probably wondering about my idea, well, it's rather ingenious… Or lazy, I'm not sure which.
I'm leaving this puppy open as a BX Challenge.
Personally, I think these days we need all the fluff we can get, but if you decide that Buffy's been ticking you off and you'd like to give her a good thumping on the head instead, well, that would work too. Although, my personal preference would be minimal angst BX in nature, if I ain't willing to write it, I got nothing to bitch about.
Kind of like voting, I guess…
Anyways, prominent BX Authors, finish this fic. Please. Otherwise, it's just gonna sit there doing nothing.
Ray Rivera, AKA Wicked Raygun