Title: Acid Trip
Author: Yahtzee

(notes and disclaimer in part one)

"Changing what's inside me?" Xander said. "What does that mean? I can save Buffy if I donate a kidney?"

"You're closer than you think," Goth Guy said.

"You're not just hanging at the club at random, are you?" Xander asked.

Goth Guy smiled. "You might catch on yet."

Xander didn't know whether to scream or cheer --

And he was in the shower.

The basement shower had been jury-rigged by Uncle Rory several years ago for reasons Xander could no longer remember. He did recall, however, that the tile had not always been green. As a result, he'd always avoided the basement shower back in high school. Now that he paid for the privilege of living underground, Xander had tried to reclaim the shower as his own; however, the mildew or mold or pod aliens infesting the tile had proven resistant to all commercial cleansers. The possibility of having Willow hex the mildew had been bandied about. In the meantime Xander made it a point to wear plastic flip-flops while showering.

As he stared down as his flip-flops, Xander tried to figure out what day it might be. "Okay," he muttered. "The first night, I take the drugs, I find the gang, we find the Son of Verruth, we leave Buffy and do the spell, but Buffy dies anyway. Next day, we start out at Giles' place. Giles leaves for L.A. Willow and I are hanging out there. Later that night, something happens that gets us horizontal. Next day we go to Mrs. Summers', then we go to the wake. And sometime during the wake -- that's my 48 hours. That's all the time I get."

None of this answered the question of what day he'd popped into now, but Xander was guessing this was not exactly a critical time period. He went ahead and shaved, considering. "Change what's inside me. What does that mean? When do I make my move?"

Further shaving and lathering offered no answers. Xander stepped out of the shower, kicked off his shoes -- and looked up to see Willow sitting on the bed, tugging on her shirt.

"Second morning," Xander said. Willow looked up at that, then quirked her mouth in amusement. Xander could feel his face turning hot as he grabbed a towel and tucked it around his waist.

"It's not really all that necessary after last night, huh?" she asked. But there was something a little sad behind her joke.

"Guess not. It's just -- new." Xander stepped closer. "Maybe we'll get used to it."

Willow looked him in the eyes for a long moment, and Xander sighed. "Or maybe not."

"Xander -- you and me, we have so much to work through. But this -- this is not the time to decide."

"You're right," Xander said. His momentary good cheer at having a chance to save Buffy was fast disintegrating in the face of Willow's dark mood.

"I never meant for this to happen," Willow said. "What am I gonna tell Oz when he gets back? He just barely believed that you and I were really over. When I tell him we slept together -- and I have to tell him, Xander --"

"Willow, Oz is a good guy," Xander said. "When he learns what happened to Buffy, I don't think he's going to judge either of us too harshly for what we did today."

"You think so?"

"I hope so. Otherwise, I'm gonna be on the receiving end of some pit-bull action." He was relieved to see Willow laugh --

And he was kneeling in a tunnel, watching Giles cry.

Willow and Spike were standing behind Giles; Willow clutched convulsively onto Spike's jacket as she sobbed. Spike was frozen in place, not comforting Willow, not wearing his usual smart-ass expression, not doing anything but looking down at the body in Giles' arms.

Xander had been horrified to see Buffy's corpse in her coffin. But compared to what he saw before him now, that image was peaceful. Buffy lay on the ground, dirt and blood smeared over her skin and in her hair. Her neck and arms were marred with deep gashes. Blood pooled around her -- more blood than he would have thought could be in a human body.

The funeral home had arranged Buffy's face into a semblance of sleep, of rest. She had not even that artificial dignity now; her eyes were glassy, her lips still twisted in the last agony she had known.

"But we killed it," Willow gulped between sobs. "Giles, we killed it."

"We -- we weren't fast enough," Giles whispered. "Or it was too fast for us."

"Holy shit," Spike said. Through his shock, Xander numbly thought that, for Spike, that was actually fairly respectful.

This doesn't have to happen, Xander reminded himself. What I'm looking at is just the worst-case scenario. I can stop it. I have to believe that I can stop it.

Otherwise, I couldn't take it --

"Buffy, I'm so sorry," Giles said. "All I ever wanted -- oh, God, I wasn't worthy of you --"

"Giles, don't," Xander said --

And he was back at the wake.

Xander glanced around; Angel and Cordelia didn't seem to be there yet, and light was still coming through the windows. Early evening of the second day, then.

"This is useless," he muttered. "Come on, switch already --"

But he couldn't move around at will; Xander was stuck in place for the time being. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the chapel; it was hard for him to be kind to everyone who came up to him -- people he hadn't seen in forever, people he hadn't realized knew Buffy -- but he tried. Otherwise, they'd get suspicious. Whenever somebody wasn't actually speaking to him, he just stared at the floor, which made him look mournful enough.

"Xander?" The voice made him jump. When he looked up, Anya stood in front of him. She smiled awkwardly. "I brought a floral offering."

The chapel was filled with traditional, respectful wreaths of red roses or white carnations. Anya, however, had brought a bouquet of tiger lilies, vibrantly orange and yellow. It was weirdly out of place, and yet, somehow, it reminded him a little of Buffy. "Thanks, Anya," he said gently. "It's good of you to come."

"I don't know if you even want to see me," Anya said all in a rush. "But Buffy and I were sort of friends, without the whole liking-each-other part."

"Anya -- you don't have to explain yourself to me. Anyway, I'm glad you're here."

"I'm supposed to ask you if there's anything I can do, right?"

"You have successfully decrypted another aspect of human life," Xander said. "But there's nothing you can do right now -- wait, oh, hell, of course there is!"

Anya squared her shoulders. "This will involve a casserole of some kind, right?"

"Generally, but not today. Anya, is there any demon or spirit or elf or what-all that has the ability to move people through time?"

"A couple," Anya said. "You want to go back and help Buffy -- Xander, I don't know. Those guys are pretty strange. They do their own thing in their own time. So to speak."

"One of these things found me right after you and I -- well, two nights ago," Xander said. "I've been jumping around ever since. I just have to know that I'm moving through time for real. If I can get back again to before she dies, I might be able to stop it, right?"

"Don't see why not, except for the fact that this is the Son of Verruth you're dealing with. I mean, if he killed Buffy, he'll turn you into dog food."

"Find that silver lining, Anya," Xander said.

"I just mean -- be careful," Anya said. As always, when she said something soft and sentimental, Anya blushed a bit; considering the things she would say without blushing, Xander was always surprised to see her cheeks turn pink. And always charmed.

For the first time since their fight, he realized just how much he would miss her --

And he was climbing down metal rungs bolted into a cement wall; Xander took a deep breath and realized he was headed down into the sewer.

"C'mon, Xander. Get a move on."

"Buffy?" Xander looked down and saw her standing beneath him, her arms folded across her chest. She glanced over at Giles, who stood beside her.

"If his attention is going to keep wandering like this, I don't see how we can take him along. He's just gonna be looking at the pretty colors all night anyway."

"Buffy, we can't leave him up there helpless," Willow said. Her voice floated from above him, echoing dreamlike in the tunnel; Xander did have a pretty-colors moment but pulled himself together.

"Hey, here's a plan," Xander said. "Let's just not go. What say we head back to Casa de Giles and take a well-deserved night off?"

"That isn't an option," Giles said. "This creature comes forth and wreaks devastation upon the world for a month before settling back into its other-dimensional hibernation. We have but one chance to rid the world of it, not to mention save Sunnydale and the surrounding environs from complete destruction."

"Son of Verruth not good," Buffy said. "We kill. Xander stalling."

"No, I mean it," Xander said. "Buffy, this thing is a serious bad-ass. I mean, if we don't destroy this medallion right off, the Son of Verruth could kill you. Right, Giles?"

"Wait," Willow said. "You weren't there when we talked about the medallion --"

Xander ignored this. "Why do we have to run off to the park to do this spell, anyway? That takes a lot of time. Let's just do it here, huh? How's that for a plan?"

Giles was looking up at him with a very strange expression. "Putting aside for the moment the question of how you know all this -- how on earth -- never mind. You should also know that we can't just do this spell anywhere."

"Why not?" Xander asked --

And he was on the church steps, staring out at the night. "Dammit!" Xander yelled, not caring that several people walking to and from the chapel turned to look at him. Their eyes were so kind, though, so damn sorry for him --

Willow stepped outside. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" he snapped. Xander regretted his words immediately; Willow looked so worried, so uncertain. And she didn't even react to his anger.

"I know it's hard," she said, then smiled unevenly. "Angel and Riley are in there talking. We're missing out on some quality eavesdropping."

"No doubt," Xander said. He gentled his voice, disguising his impatience and his worry. But it was hard for him to concentrate on anything besides his abortive attempt to save Buffy.

What if he was already too late? What if he didn't get another chance to rescue her?

Devon walked out onto the steps with them. Xander wanted to groan; this was not the ideal time for a support group. But Devon was only focused on Willow.

"Hey, Wil," he said, holding out a cell phone. "You want to take this call?"

Willow breathed in sharply, then nodded and grabbed the phone. After a moment, she spoke, her voice breaking: "Oz?"

Devon and Xander shared a look and started walking away to give her a little privacy. Xander could still hear her, though, tearful and relieved all at once.

"You just now found out? -- It was so awful, Oz; I feel like we should've done something -- I know. No, no! You couldn't have changed anything. If I don't get to feel irrational guilt, neither do you. -- I -- I wish you were here too -- you will? You are? Oh -- "

Well, that's that, Xander thought. He didn't know why he should feel so surprised and disappointed. Of course Willow still loved Oz. Of course he would come back to be with her after something like this.

So I lost Anya over a two-year-old fantasy, Xander thought. And now I'm gonna have a pissed-off werewolf out for my head. Plus I still don't see how I'm supposed to save Buffy --

And he was back in his basement, with Willow in his arms. She was crying quietly, and as he breathed in deeply, he realized he had been too.

"It's not fair," Willow whispered. "She just wanted to have a normal life. And we would all pretend like she had one, like they weren't going to get her one day. I let myself believe it."

"I did too," Xander said. For the first time, he realized that, if he did manage to save Buffy from the Son of Verruth, he was only buying time. The futility, the injustice of it hit him all at once, and he clutched Willow a little tighter.

"I want out of Sunnydale," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "Soon. I'll transfer out east. Maybe ask Giles if there's anyplace vampires don't go."

Xander looked down at her, hurt but not surprised. "Nobody to stick around for anymore, huh?"

"Oh, no, I didn't mean -- Xander --" Tears welled up in Willow's eyes again, and she pulled him close. This embrace was different than the others; it was still born of sadness and a kind of desperation, but where there had only been emptiness there was suddenly heat.

She kissed him, and it felt so fantastic that if he hadn't known exactly how it would all end, Xander could never have resisted her. He wouldn't even have tried. Instead, he ended the kiss and took her face in his hands. "Wil. You're upset. Don't do anything you don't mean."

"I don't know what I mean anymore," Willow whispered. "It just feels good being close to you."

"I know. I really do. But we've got enough to deal with right now."

"You're right," she said, then shook her head. "No, you're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Xander said. And then it hit him -- "I changed this!"

"What?" Willow looked confused, as well she might, but Xander was too thrilled to care.

"We were gonna sleep together, and it didn't happen. It didn't happen!"

"We just kissed once," Willow said, a bit defensively. "So you don't know that we were gonna -- anyway, you don't have to be so happy about it."

"That's not why I'm happy, trust me," Xander said. "But this is a good thing. A very good thing. I gotta get to Giles' place."

"What, now? Xander, Giles looked like he needed some serious crash time."

"This is more important."

Willow ran her hands through her hair as if to collect herself. "Okay. I'll come with."

"No, don't," Xander said. "You look kinda wrung out. In a cute way," he hastened to add. "It's okay. I'm gonna take care of Giles, take care of everything. Just crash."

He looked down at her tear-streaked face and bent down quickly to kiss her on the forehead, then took off for Giles' house at a run that would have put the Sunnydale High track team to shame. He could have just waited to see if and when he shifted back there, but he didn't want to take any risks. The next jump might be his big chance -- his only chance -- and he had to know what to do. Whatever it was, he knew he could do it.

Yeah, sure, Xander thought, something was probably going to get Buffy someday --

But not today, he thought. Or not yesterday. Whenever. Dammit.

By the time he jogged up to Giles' door, he was panting and exhausted; it seemed to take a whole lot of energy just to knock on the door. And to knock again. And then to start pounding. "Giles," Xander yelled. "You in there?"

Giles finally opened the door. He looked a little unkempt and smelled like Uncle Rory. "Xander. I wasn't expecting company."

"So I see," Xander said. "But you have to answer a couple questions for me real quick."

"This -- is not the best time --"

"It's the only time we've got." Xander pushed past Giles. Fortunately, everything was as he had expected it to be -- books and papers and sketches of the medallion still lying about. "You need to look in these books. You have to tell me some other way to kill the Son of Verruth."

"It's already dead, Xander," Giles said patiently.

"Not where I'm going."

"Are you still on about this time-traveling business? Xander, denial is a natural response to tragedy, but --"

"There's nothing natural about this! Giles, I know you don't believe me. But what if it's true? Just think about it. Even if it's just one chance in a million, don't you want Buffy to have it?"

Giles watched him silently for a moment. His eyes, which had been dull and dead, sparked with energy once again. "There's only one other way."

"So explain. There's no telling how much time we've got."

"The medallion is corrosive to human flesh; you know that much. But human touch is equally destructive to the medallion."

"You're telling me that all we had to do was pick it up?"

"It's not that simple. Even one moment's contact with the medallion is enough to cause painful burning. The kind of extended contact that would destroy the medallion -- Xander, whoever holds the medallion for that length of time will surely die." Giles put one hand on his shoulder. "If you go back, you must tell me what is to come and remind me that I told you this. And I shall then take the medallion."

Xander shook his head. "Come on. There's gotta be some other way. I want to save Buffy, but I don't want to lose you either."

"I appreciate that," Giles said with a ghost of a smile. "But I am an adult man. I've had my share of life's joys. Buffy didn't -- she hasn't. I want her to have that."

"Giles, this isn't right --"

And he was -- still at Giles' house, still standing near the door, but it was daytime. Willow was next to Spike on the couch; her body shook from an imagined chill even as she leaned on his shoulder. Xander breathed out in a sigh. "Not yet," he muttered, "not yet."

"What are you on about?" Spike snapped.

"What do you care?" Xander snapped back.

"I don't. But Red here seems to be having some trouble," Spike said. "Should I have a go at warming her up?"

"Most certainly you should not," Xander said. "Why don't you find someplace else to be in a big hurry?"

Spike raised his hands and his eyebrows as he moved away from the sofa. "Fine. Then you see to her."

Xander grabbed one of Giles' blazers and draped it across Willow's shoulders as he pushed her down on the couch. "Will, can you hear me?"

After a pause, she said, "Yeah. Xander, I'm cold."

"Pull the blazer around you. That's right." Xander remembered only then that he had seen her sleeping beneath this jacket before. Without knowing it, he'd recreated that event. Would he do the same thing to Buffy? He began to shiver himself.

"Thanks," Willow murmured. "You're so good to me."

A pang of guilt made Xander wince. He knew now, as he hadn't before, just how far he was capable of taking advantage of Willow's vulnerabilities. But he could do better from now on. For Willow, Buffy, Giles -- and Anya, if she'd still have him. "You're the good one," Xander said --

And green fire exploded around him. Xander screamed -- no other word for it -- and ducked down just in time. "Oh, God! Xander!" Willow cried out. "Are you okay?"

He looked up to see her running toward him. "I'm fine," he called, just as she ran past him -- and toward that butt-ugly creature he now knew was the Son of Verruth. "Willow, what are you doing?"

"Just get down, Xander!" Buffy yelled.

"Buffy!" Xander looked around wildly; Buffy was holding a torch, waving it about, passing it back and forth between both hands. The Son of Verruth, which was apparently not the brightest bulb on the undead Christmas tree, was too transfixed by the light and motion to notice Willow getting closer -- or Giles sneaking up from behind.

"Five minutes earlier would've been nice," Xander muttered. He crawled forward, hoping to get close enough to Giles to explain things as soon as they got that medallion. He was careful to leave the actual demon-baiting distraction to Buffy; he still didn't know if that thing was breathing the green fire or what and hoped to remain in ignorance.

"C'mon, big, scaly, spooky guy," Buffy crooned. She was fighting back a smile. Sometimes Xander forgot how much she actually relished slaying. "Isn't it pretty? Don't you want it? Because I'd love to give it to you."

Giles swung something silver and sharp toward the Son of Verruth. Xander heard the whir of metal through air just before he heard the monster scream, then saw the medallion, its chain severed, fall to the ground. The Son of Verruth roared in rage, but before it could wheel around to kill Giles, Buffy threw the torch. It plunged deep into the demon's flesh.

As the Son of Verruth screamed again and began lumbering toward Buffy, Willow ran forward, practically beneath its feet. She had a bit of brown cloth in her hands. "The sack," Xander said, even as Willow used it to flip the medallion in the air and then caught it handily.

"Let's go," Willow yelled.

"Over here!" Buffy called, motioning toward a small door --

The same door Xander had run through earlier. Could he live through the same event twice? He couldn't find out. They had left Buffy alone once, and she had died. That was it for that plan.

Did he even have a chance to tell Giles what they'd talked about before? Probably not. And even if he did, it would just mean that Giles died instead.

"Oh, God," Xander muttered. "It's up to me."