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Author's notes: This one is for gg who loves Xander even more than I do. And, as always, the girl who makes me think before I write, Am.

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Knowledge
May, 1999

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I know that it's happened because of the way he keeps touching her. Every time he's near her, as if his hand can anchor her to his side. And every time it's like a flashing light from him to her, "possession."

He's never touched her that way before. There's no reason he should have, unless he has. Possessed her, I mean.

The realization sinks into me. All of me.

There's the sickness in my stomach that I instantly recognize as jealousy. My whole life I thought I would be the one to share all her firsts. The first day of school, where she was the strong one and I was the one who cried. The first broken heart-which I recklessly caused myself. The first failed test score, which has yet to happen. Graduation, prom, college. Sex. That one was important to me because I know no one will ever love her the way I do. Not even him. So jealousy swirled around inside me until I was forced to hold on to something solid to remain standing.

Somewhere in my heart there is grief. I'm sad because she has now become a woman I no longer know. And I wonder if she was really ready for it when it happened, if she asked for it or knew it was coming. I can't pretend to myself it was forced. Not the way she lets him touch her like that. Not when she's touching him back with equal tenderness.

Hope is aching elsewhere in my chest. Hope that afterwards he held her and told her how much she means to him. How much he loves her. Because that is what I would have done, had it been me. I have hope that for her it was vastly different from my own experience-violent, cold and hurtful. I hope he was gentle and muffled her cries of pain with kisses. That he soothed her. That he held her tight and brushed away her tears. Somehow, I'm certain there were tears. At least, that's how I always imagined it would be with the two of us�tears of rightness and joy.

My head is full of anger. Each time he strokes her hair or squeezes her hand I have to fight back the impulse to tear her away from him. She isn't a thing to be possessed, to be owned with touches and hungry looks. Not even by me. I'm angry because she's no longer the girl I put up on a pedestal, before I could even spell my name. I want to rage at her and ask her how she could kill that girl, the one I loved first, and best. I want to shake him for knowing how important she was to me, and taking her anyway.

I know that it happened because of the way they've changed.

I stood apart from them at Prom, another girl nestled in my arms, and I watched the way he held her. Close, but respectful. I watched the way she blushed at his obvious enthrallment with her, the way she pulled the wrap around her shoulders to cover the creamy skin revealed by her dress. I watched him place a chaste kiss on her shoulder, while she looked around to make sure no one was paying attention.

There's no hesitancy in his touch now. She doesn't look for prying eyes before sinking back into him.

That night I stood in the center of a crowd of people, a small female form tucked against my body, and I felt lonelier than I've ever been. As I watched them together, it was like viewing what was supposed to be my life, only someone else was playing my part.

And now the loneliness manifests itself in a stinging behind my eyes. She moves around the room and he is right beside her, touching her like he's possessed her. Which I know he has.

"Hey, Xander, can you give us a hand over here?" she says, his hands straying into her hair, making her smile.

I let my head fall forward into my hands and breathe in a ragged sigh. And I go to her with my new knowledge pulsing inside of me.

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end

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