"Xander, I was at the store, buying some chocolate," Anya burst into the apartment, already talking up a storm, "When I came across this new-flavor condom, and figured-" She stopped abruptly, staring at Xander's position on the couch.

He was sitting with his head bowed, eyes closed, arms slack.

"Xander?" Anya asked fearfully.

"Hey." He said in a dull tone.

"What's wrong?" Anya asked, having been trained well in when to ask that question.

"Joyce died." Xander looked up at Anya, and she could tell that he'd been crying. His face was all red and puffy.

"Buffy's mom? But I thought she was better? That the doctors had fixed her?" Anya asked. Xander just watched her with his dead eyes, all emotion having been drawn out of him.

"She's dead?" Anya asked in a tiny voice. "Gone? No more cookies and cocoa?" She stopped, and bowed her head.

"I hurt inside. Why do I hurt?" Anya asked, tentatively.

Xander gave Anya a sad smile, and got up from the couch. He put his arms around her, giving himself as much comfort as he was giving her.

"It's okay to hurt." Xander said. "It's human." His face was buried in her hair, and he breathed her comforting scent in deep.

"I don't like it." Anya stated, wrapping her arms around Xander. "I don't like it." She repeated, shaking her head.

"Why?" Anya asked a little while later.

"Why what?" Xander asked, head still leaning on Anya's.

"Why do people have to die?"

"I don't know." Xander answered. "People just die." He shrugged a little helplessly.

"It's not fair." Anya stated. "Vampires get to live forever, and they're bad. Joyce didn't, she's dead, and she was good. She has good daughters. Why didn't she get to live forever too?"

Xander squeezed his eyes shut as the tears started to flow. He had forgotten what it was like to be like Anya, to wonder why everyone had to go away, to die, and leave him forever.

"I don't know." Xander said again, his tears being absorbed by Anya's hair. "I don't know why the good ones are always gone first." He paused, and then continued. "I remember when I first met her. It was back in 10th grade- Buffy had been in Sunnydale for month, and Willow and I went over to her house, because Joyce wanted to meet her new friends. Joyce was so happy Buffy had made friends, that, Buffy told us, she cried when we left. That's when I first met Dawn, too."

"I met Joyce before Spike got his chip- I think it was after Halloween. I remember how happy she was when you said I was your girlfriend, that she was glad you were happy. And she was glad to meet me. It made me feel human."

Xander smiled again, the tears slowing, and guided Anya to the couch, were they sat, close together, clutching hands.

"Joyce is-" His voice caught, "-was a great woman. She was my mother when mine wouldn't stay sober, just like Giles was my father. She would always give me a hug when I needed one, and I could talk to her about anything." Xander took a deep breath to get his emotions in check. "She used to make me cocoa too."

"I still don't understand why people have to die." Anya said. "Why can't they live forever?"

"It was just her time, Anya," Xander said. "There is no explanation. She's gone- nothing can bring her back."

Anya stayed silent, pondering this. Her mind couldn't comprehend, or remember death- mortal death. She didn't know what it felt like to loose a close friend.

Xander did. How many people has he lost? Two, five, ten? Not to mention the school massacre with the Mayor. It started with his grandmother, then his childhood friend, Jesse, then Ms. Calendar. Countless schoolmates lost before and after the High School Massacre. And now Joyce.

Buffy and Dawn's mom. Their friend. A great woman.

Xander could feel the tears welling again, and looked at Anya. She looked lost, and forlorn, sitting next to him on the couch. He squeezed her hand, that he still held in his grasp, and her eyes met his.

"We're meeting Willow and Tara in an hour." Xander said in a surprisingly dry voice.

"Okay." Anya said, readjusting her grip on Xander's hand.

And they sat there the rest of the hour, holding hands, not saying a word, as each remembered Joyce, and all that was good, and pure, and motherly about her.

-End

In memory of Mandy Sage- May you lay in your friends' memory forever.