Fic: I Am What I Am (63/67)
Interlude 28: Promises
*July 12th, 2025*
She was smiling. How could she be smiling? He could barely see through the haze of blood and tears in his eye. Her hand gently squeezed his. Even now, she was comforting him. It should have been the other way around.
"Don't," he whispered, leaned forward and pressing his cheek against her. "Not you too."
"Xander," Buffy said softly, her voice weak and distant. He forced himself to keep looking at her face. If he looked at her face, he could pretend her injuries were not so bad. That all she'd need was some time in a nano-tank before she was good as new. "I'm sorry."
That did it. That broke him. He shut his eye painfully, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against hers. "Buffy."
"We did it?" she asked weakly. She swallowed, taking a shuddering, rasping breath.
"You did it," he said, nodding as tears dripped down his face. "You did it perfectly."
She coughed a little, smiling. "Not too perfectly."
He shook his head violently. "No. Perfect. Like everything you do."
"You're sweet," she smiled. "But a bad liar."
"I've never been more truthful in my life," he whispered. He squeezed her hand tightly. This wasn't happening. This could not be allowed to happen. Not again. He wouldn't lose his wife again.
"Somebody help me!" he screamed. But there was no one there. His pitiful cry echoed over the destruction that surrounded them. Reinforcements would not be there for another twenty minutes. By that time...
"Xander," she whispered. "Don't. It's too late."
He shook his head. "No. It's not - it's not too late. Y-You..."
"Tell Jessie I'm sorry," Buffy said. "I-I was supposed to take her to get her ears pierced when she turned sixteen."
Xander let out another choked sob and kissed her lightly on the lips. There were tears in her eyes as well when he pulled back.
"Xander, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I won't be there to help you anymore. Promise me you'll," she gasped slightly. "Promise me you'll be okay."
He couldn't say it. He shook his head in silent protest, denying that this was happening. Denying that this could ever happen.
"Promise me," she demanded. "Please, Xander. Please promise me. For Jessie's sake."
He shut his eye tightly and took a deep breath. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you."
"What you always do," she said. "Help people. Make the difference, Xander. You're so good at it. Better than I ever was. Better than anyone ever was."
"I just want to help you," he said pitifully. She smiled at him, and winced in pain as she lifted her bloody arm to stroke his cheek.
"You did," she whispered. "More than anyone. I was," she grunted. "I was never as content as I was with you, Xander."
It made him screw up his face again. She was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. "I love you so much, Buffy."
"I love you, Xander. Always. Never forget that."
"Never," he promised.
"It's not forever," she said, smiling softly. "We both know that. We both know what death is. She's waiting there too." Buffy chuckled weakly. "Maybe we can swap stories while we wait for you."
He couldn't smile.
"But Xander? If you're there a minute earlier than you have to be, I'll kick your ass."
She squeezed his hand again. And tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm going to be with you, Xander. I promise. Both of us, I know we will. You have to live for us, okay? Live for us. Live for Jessie."
For Jessie. The only person he had left.
He nodded slowly. "For you. For Faith. For Jessie."
"It won't be heaven without you," she whispered.
"It won't be life without you."
Buffy shuddered, taking in a gasping breath. Xander's eye went wide and he put his hand against her cheek, staring into her eyes. "Not yet. Not yet."
"Promise me one more thing," she said.
"Anything."
She stared into his eyes. He could see the fire in them, the strength of will that made Buffy so unique. Yet it was fading slowly, slipping away as she lay there. "Beat them, Xander. If anyone can beat them, it's you. It's what you were born for."
"You're the Slayer, Buffy. I'm just-"
"Just the most important person on the planet," she said, a harsh tone to her voice. "You're the leader, Xander. You're the one that changes things. Beat them, Xander. I know you can."
He nodded slowly. "I will. I promise."
She let out a half-sob of pain and anguish, her hand squeezing him so tightly he thought his fingers might break. She stared up at him, eyes beginning to lose focus. "It was wonderful, Xander. It was so wonderful. Thank you so much."
"Buffy," he sobbed. "Please, no."
"Do you know," she gasped. "My favorite memory?"
He shook his head.
"Remember when I had the flu, when Jessie was," she coughed, hacking up blood. "When she was, was eight, maybe nine?"
"Yeah," he said, stroking her hair. "I remember."
"I remember lying in bed, God I was so sick. I felt awful, and looked worse. I remember you sitting there next to me and holding my hand for hours. I remember when Jess made me that get well card, remember? And then you guys sat with me and told me made up stories together."
He remembered. Remembered that Buffy had started crying, and didn't stop until he and Jess had both lay beside her. He hugged her on one side while Jessie held her on the other. Eventually Buffy had fallen asleep, curled up beside the two people she loved the most.
"I was so happy," Buffy whispered. "It was my dream, Xander. I never thought I could have this. You gave it to me. The life I always wanted. I love you guys so much. We're a family, Xander. You gave me the dream I never thought a Slayer could have."
She leaned her head forward, and kissed him lightly on the lips. It was a struggle, and he could see the pain in her eyes. "I love you. Forever."
"Forever," he said mournfully as she lowered her head down. For a long while, she simply gazed up at him, and he stared down at her, holding her hand tightly and praying this was all a dream.
He wept softly for several minutes, as her grip on his hand slowly weakened. He begged for someone, for something to stop it, to make it not be true. But it was, and there was nothing he could do to change it.
Buffy died in his arms, despite his words, despite his prayers, and despite his wishes. This time, he knew, she would not be coming back. Buffy was dead. His wife, his love, and the woman who was every bit the mother to his child. He held onto her, rocking back and forth as he cried. Two loves, two lives. It was like a curse.
A part of him wondered if it was a curse, if some vengeance demon had years ago decided it would be his curse to lose the women he loved so powerfully. Anya, Faith, and now Buffy.
In the future he would recognize the beauty of having known them in the first place. After he'd mourned, after he'd grieved and screamed out his pain and anger, he would remember the good times.
But for that moment, all he could do was hold onto her body, wailing his agony, and cursing the fate that had taken another of the most vibrant and perfect women he'd ever known. It was only his promise to her and his love for his daughter that kept him from doing something stupid.
He would press on, press on for Buffy, for Faith, and for the daughter that they had both had a hand in. And he would never rest until the world was completely free of demons and supernatural evil. He swore, once again, that he would never lose someone to the darkness.
It was a promise he'd made before, and a promise he never seemed to be able to keep.
But he had to try, didn't he?