*****

Sitting here, alone in the dark, I know what Cordelia and Doyle think. They think I'm thinking about Buffy.

But I'm not.

I think about her during the day, when I'm lying in bed, unable to sleep. The night is when I think about him. The second great love of my life. The complex guy who hated me even while he loved me. Xander.

Tonight, sitting in my dark office, I think about his face and I sigh. He's so beautiful. I can see him in my mind perfectly. His light brown eyes twinkle in the moonlight and that lopsided smile brightens the night. His hair is messy and misplaced, giving the impression that he's just gotten out of bed.

And maybe he had. We always met late at night, after Buffy was finished patrolling and had gone home. I led two lives. The one with Buffy and the one with Xander.

They both needed me, but for different reasons. Buffy needed me to be her other half and to let her know that even though she was the Slayer, she could still be a normal girl, with normal emotions. Xander needed me to show him that someone cared, that someone loved *him*. He needed to feel close.

One big difference in my relationships with the two was that with Buffy, I always knew who and what I was. But with Xander, I almost felt human again. He would draw me into his world of flawed humanity.

That sounds bad, but it wasn't, isn't. It was fun to be nervous around him. It felt good to worry about what he thought of me. It was nice to feel jealous when I saw him with someone else. The anger I felt when I learned he had slept with Faith consumed me and it made me feel alive. One night he didn't show up and thinking back on it, I like how disappointed I was.

I loved hearing about his daily exploits and I was fascinated by his thoughts and views. He had, still has, a unique and interesting thought process.

It was hard leaving him. Unlike with Buffy, Xander and I had a spoken goodbye. His face, his beautiful face displayed such sadness. I felt it too, but a lot of my emotions don't show on the outside due to years of practice. But not Xander. Every emotion he has shows on his face and the line of his body.

Sadness, happiness, excitement, boredom, hurt. All of them show. All of them, all of the emotions affect me.

When his parents would yell at him or hit him, his face would relax as he told me about it, but his eyes would darken. It was the look of acceptance and it made me want to kill. When his teacher accused him of cheating, his anger came to a peak on his brow and in the set of his lips. I know without a doubt that he didn't cheat. I spent at least four hours the night before the test quizzing him. The look on his face made me angry and indignant as well.

And when we finally consummated our relationship, the look on his face almost made me cry. He looked so. . .awed and happy and, well, sleepy. But it was a good combination. He was beautiful.

All of his worries about my soul faded away when I came, softly saying his name. I don't know why I could make love with Xander without losing my soul but not with Buffy. I mean, I love Xander as much as I love Buffy. But really, I didn't mind; I mean, really? Why would I sit around and question it when I could be tenderly moving against my lover?

I miss him. Sometimes more than I miss Buffy. And I worry too. Buffy can take care of herself, but Xander's so. . .in need of my protection. I still talk to Xander. Sometimes he calls me right before dawn. He tells me about his life. The life I'm not getting to observe or be a part of anymore. I want to be there. I want to see what's going on, not just hear it.

When he calls, I smile here in the dark, but despite the smile, I'm in pain. I miss him. I want him. I need him.

~end~