by ~*pixie*~
July 26th, 1998
*Why didn't I see it before?* Xander wondered, as he roamed the sleepy streets of Sunnydale. It was dark out, but he wasn't worried. Ever since Buffy had left, he and the other slayerettes hadn't seen more than one vampire, and the demon been more afraid of them. *I guess being a friend of the Slayer helps.* He thought, and he chuckled a little. He wondered about Buffy, where she'd gone, what she was doing. His best bet was that she'd had to send Angel to Hell, and had then just... left. Gone. He knew he had something to do with it. And he didn't even feel guilty. Okay, so... maybe a little guilty. But not enough for it to hurt.
He had more important things on his mind anyway. Like his pseudo-relationship with Cordelia. He sometimes wondered if it was worth the effort. Even though they'd been getting along better in the last few weeks of school, they had more than their share of fights, and the bad times more often outweighed the good. On top of that, she had just left for a two month trip around Europe with her parents. *Europe.* He thought, with a tinge of bitterness. *Charming, dark, foreign guys.* He wouldn't be at all surprised if Cordelia came back totally doe-eyed over some French poet. He wasn't even sure it would hurt him that much... or he was atleast denying the fact that it would.
Something was plaguing him more. Willow. Or, more importantly, Willow and Oz. Ever since Willow had awakened in the hospital almost two months ago, she and Oz had been inseparable. Always touching, holding, kissing... talking. He was almost always over at her house... either that or she was over at his. And Xander was crazy jealous. Not just because the short musician had taken his place as the most important male in Willow's life, but because of his own newfound feelings for his life-long best friend. Ever since he'd told the unconscious Willow that he'd loved her, he'd begun to question just what kind of love he meant. Sure, he loved her as a best friend. He'd known her since they were in diapers for christ sake. But lately, he'd been wondering what it would be like to be in Oz's place, to hold her hand, or hold her, or, most importantly, kiss her. He missed the way she used to smile at him, the way she now smiled just for Oz, and he knew that he'd blown his chance to have her be 'His Willow.' She was Oz's Willow now, and she didn't smile at him in that beautiful, love-struck way. She didn't babble on about him, about how sweet and wonderful he was, about how much her parents liked him, about how good it felt to be in his arms. He would bet mass amounts of money that he wasn't the one she didn't dream about him anymore. The kinds of dreams that leave you waking with a smile on your face, and make you blush the first time you see that person about which the dream centered around. She had those dreams about Oz now. Not about him. Not anymore. And that killed him.
He hated Oz. He'd always been suspicious of him, and had grown to dislike him strongly after he'd hit him that crazy day in the library. But ever since Willow had woken up from her coma, and cried out HIS name... that too-old-for her, short, chameleon-haired, werewolf guitarists name... and ever since he realized he was no longer the one Willow was in love with, or longed for, he'd hated Oz. Now, every one else could see clearly that Xander had no reason to be so bitter towards Willow's boyfriend, other than the fact that he was being immaturely jealous. But in his eyes, his hate was so right, so true. He just didn't understand what Willow saw in him. Sure, he was nice... but he was too old for her, and he was so... mature. Not at all what Willow had seen in Xander... and she'd loved him forever, right?
*Wrong.*Xander chided himself, in a obscure form of torture. *You THOUGHT she'd love you forever. You thought she'd been around, be there to worship you, until her last breath. You thought you could just play with her emotions, just toy with her, and then one day go back to her, when you were done growing up. Well, my boy, you were wrong. SHE grew up. She got over you. She moved on, you asshole. She found someone who didn't play games, and who didn't toy with her. Who loved her and made it clear. And she's chosen him over you, and DON'T YOU FEEL STUPID?!* He longed to be the one that could call Willow "Baby", or hold her when she was sad, or when she just wanted to be held, to kiss her when she needed to be kissed, or to talk to her and love her and be loved by her. But he couldn't be. *Not anymore.*
Xander shook his head, and kept walking. Past the Bronze (it was closed for re-painting) where he and Willow used to sit and talk, and where she'd listen to him make fun of all the people who wouldn't talk to him. Past the park, where he and Willow used to sit and eat ice cream in the summer, and where their mothers used to take them when they were little, where they'd play in the sandbox. He went past the movie theater, where they'd sat and watched countless movies as their childhood flew by, past their Elementary school, their Junior High School, where he, Willow and Jesse had played, laughed, and been kids together. Past the High School, where he'd found out about what REALLY goes on in the world, where he'd lost his innocence, and in a moment of blind stupidity, driven by hormones, where he'd lost his Willow. Where Willow had met that person that she had found love in. Where he'd met Buffy, and Giles, and where he'd spent SO many hours growing up in. That building was his home.
He walked past the ice cream shoppe, and felt an urge to cry. God, how many times had he and Willow saved up pennies in the summers of their childhood, so that they could go and get ice cream on scorching afternoons? He could almost see the shadows of three blissful children, sitting outside, two boys and a girl. Best friends forever. Xander laughed mirthlessly. He continued on, past the stores and the shops, reaching a familiar neighborhood. Where he and his family had lived for quite some time, until his parents had gotten divorced, and his mom had moved across town. His old house, now occupied by some other family. A street or two down was Willow's house. He stopped walking, contemplating whether or not he should even walk by it. He wasn't sure wh>
He also knew what they could very well be doing in that week. He frowned, pushing that thought away. He couldn't handle thinking about that now. Willow's innocence was what had kept him sane lately, and he couldn't even contemplate the idea of the beautiful hacker he'd always known being in bed with Oz... with anyone. Anyone but him.
Xander kept on walking. The streetlamps cast shadows on the pavement, and the stillness of the night reminded him of some deep, thought-provoking painting. One of those pictures that just gives you chills, and that you can't stop thinking about. He stopped in front of the Rosenberg home, and looked at it. Studied it. It looked the same, even after all the years. He could visualize every inch of the inside of the cozy home that he'd spent a sum total of years in. He'd spent more time in her house than he had in his own, up until their Junior year.
He could see from the front that both the living room and the kitchen lights were on. Curiously, he walked quietly across the lawn, and peered in the window that showcased the tidy living room. It was unoccupied, though he could see a bowl of fruit, and a couple of videos were on the small table that was in front of their couch, and that a large comforter was tossed on the couch, forgotten by the inhabitants of the house. He could hear muffled voices coming from the kitchen, so he snuck around to the back of the house, and looked in the window, making sure he couldn't be seen. He saw Willow and Oz, sitting at her kitchen counter, with a large Ice Cream sundae sitting before them, each holding a spoon. Willow was giggling, Oz smiling, as they both ate out of it. They were talking. About what, Xander had no clue. He couldn't hear much, except for an occasional giggle coming from the beautiful red-head. Willow and Oz were sitting close to each other, their affection for their significant other painfully obvious to the person who was, unknowing to them, invading their privacy.
He watched them for quite sometime. His jealousy for Willow's beau grew, as he watched the currently red-headed werewolf feed Willow strawberry ice cream, and he saw the glances that both Willow and Oz stole when they thought the other wasn't looking. There was no doubt in Xander's mind: They were completely and utterly gone for each other.
Tears stung his eyes as he saw Oz "accidentally" get ice cream on Willow's nose. She was giggling like crazy, attempting to put the Resolve Face in gear and scold her boyfriend, but it wasn't working. She was enjoying it to no end. Xander, on the other hand, had been hit with an enormous flashback, to the night before they'd started their junior year. How an innocent game had gotten he and Willow just centimeters away from a kiss. He could hear his own voice, a year earlier, echoing in his mind. "Your nose looks so tasty!" He didn't know what had gotten into him that night... But whatever it had been had convinced him that he wanted Willow at that moment. Looking back on it then, he didn't know what had made him lean towards her, and hated that vampire for making them pull away. He watched as Oz kissed the ice cream off of Willow's nose, and then began to kiss her cheek, her jawline, her lips, and wondered what would have happened if he and Willow HAD kissed. How different everything would be. He watched, unable to look away, as Willow and Oz began to kiss, Willow running her hands over Oz's face, Oz's arms locked around Willow's waist. He had to admit to himself that they looked happy.
He stood, frozen, as he watched Oz pick Willow up in his arms, still kissing her, and carried her out of the kitchen. Where they were going, he didn't want to know. He looked around her backyard, remembering all the games of tag and hide and go seek he and Willow had played there. Then he quietly went back around the house. He could see, very relieved, that Willow and Oz were now sitting on the couch in the living room, under the comforter, cuddling together and watching something on the TV. *Probably a movie.* He thought to himself, not exactly interested now that he knew they weren't doing anything unpure. He considered walking up the steps, knocking on the door and seeing if they wanted any company. He decided they probably didn't. That, even if they did, they probably wouldn't want him.
So he left. He walked back into the darkness, towards his house, where he'd sit, thinking in his bed for the rest of the night, and then get up and start all over again. Maybe he'd call Willow, and see if she'd want to leave Oz's presence for awhile, to just come over and hang out. Maybe he wouldn't. He wasn't in the mood to make a decision like that just then. All he knew was that he was alone, and he hated that more than anything.
~el fin