Wonderful. It's the middle of the night and I'm all
It's Xander's fault. His stupid snoring woke me up.
Honestly, people make less noise while
self-cannibalising. It drives me crazy. All rumbling
Argh! Why won't he stop?
The books all say that if you want a happy marriage
you have to think about the good things instead of
dwelling on the bad.
He's a Viking in the sack. Except that he smells
Sometimes he stops by the store unexpectedly, and when
I see him I get this funny feeling in my stomach. It's
like I've swallowed a candle. I get all hot and it
feels like a light is shining in me. In my chest, out
through my eyes. I can't stop smiling. And everyone
can see that I'm happy. It's unlucky. It attracts
attention. Jealousy. The gods don't want mortals too
happy. It leaves me exposed. Vulnerable.
It would be easy for him to hurt me. But he'll smile.
Or he'll kiss me. Or he'll look at me sideways with
eyes that promise me so much. And then I think that
he'll never hurt me.
But sometimes he'll look to Buffy or Willow before he
looks to me. Or he'll slight me with careless words.
And then I worry that my future is bound up with him.
Giving all that power to one person...
I remember all the women I've helped. All the betrayal
and hurt I've seen. I remember all the vengeance I've
Good thoughts about Xander.
He is very skilled at his work. Construction has given
him big sweaty muscles. And carpentry has left
calluses on his hands. And they rub up against me at
just the right angle.
He tells me things. At night, before we sleep. He
tells me about his childhood. His dreams. About his
parents and his nightmares.
He listens to me. Unless I'm asking him to do
housework. Good heavens, you'd think that I was asking
him to perform some unnatural sex act instead of
putting his socks in the hamper. Huh. Maybe there's
some way to combine an unnatural sex and the hamper.
Or maybe the socks.
Look at him. He's very sweet when he sleeps. There's
no sarcasm, no anger; he's open and defenseless. It
makes me feel a surge of protectiveness toward him
that's positively maternal. Thank goodness I've
managed to reconcile this with all the sex.
The more I look at him the more handsome he gets. I
wonder why that is? He's got lovely long eyelashes,
but so do lots of people. Spike uses his lashes like a
weapon; he's got this way of looking at Buffy from
behind them that is positively scorching. How she
doesn't melt I'll never know.
His mouth is very pretty, but so is Giles'. Strong,
firm lips. All silky and hot. So mobile, so
Good thoughts about Xander...
Oh, he's stopped snoring. He's all quiet now. Peaceful
and still. Maybe now I can get some sleep.
He's too quiet. I can't hear him breathing.
Maybe he's dead. Maybe the reason he's not snoring is
because he's stopped breathing. Maybe he's never going
to wake up.
This is silly. Of course he's not dead. He's going to
wake up and brush his teeth and make waffles. He's not
dead. He wouldn't die while I was thinking about
kissing Giles. That would be too cruel. I haven't done
anything to warrant such cruelty....
Oh. If he's dead he'll never hold me again. He'll
never sing to me or dance with me. He'll never bite
his bottom lip when he's thinking or his upper lip
when he's worried. I'll never see his pretty eyes or
hear his growly snoring. Why can't he snore?
I should check to see if he's breathing. But if I
check and he's not breathing then it will mean that
he's dead. If I don't check then he's not dead. I
"Xander." He doesn't move. Maybe I should shake him.
"Xander." A little louder. "I can't sleep." If I shake
him and he doesn't wake up then it will mean that he's
"Play a word game with me." My voice is so shrill. I'm
being silly. I should shake him.
"I'll say a word and you say the first word that pops
into your mind."
"Huh? Wha'?" Finally I hear it, his voice, thick with
sleep and confusion and phlegm. It's the most
wonderful thing I've ever heard.
"The word association game."
"Did you have a bad dream?" His eyes are dark with
concern and his dear arms open in invitation. I
snuggle close, my head against his bare chest. I can
feel his lungs fill with air; I can hear the blood
whoosh through his arteries.
What? Oh, yes, word association.
"Sleep." There is laughter in his voice; his arms flex
around me as he reaches.
"Oh. Hands." Oh, my.
"Hmmm. Fingers." Hot breath in my ear. Nibbling kisses
down my throat. Shivers down my spine.
"Yes. Oh, yes."
"Turn over, baby."
How easily fear fades. How quickly loving banishes
death. How full it fills you. How deep it goes. How
hard it thrusts. Again and again.
"Don't stop. Don't ever stop."