Buffy smiled down on the colorful bouquet of flowers. There were roses, daisies, tigerlilies. She had selected anything she saw that looked bright and cheerful. The Slayer ran a hand along the edge of a silky red rose and let her mind drift. After spending so long alone, Buffy had come to realize that focusing on the places where life had gone wrong never helped. Instead she thought of the last day she and Xander spent together.
He had picked her up from work in a new car--their new car, the silver sports car Buffy had so frivolously pointed out at the dealership months earlier. “Happy birthday, Buff,” he’d said with a grin, sliding over so she could take the helm. “Give ‘er a try.”
“We can’t afford this.” An empty protest, of course. She loved the car, and there was no way she was returning it.
“Of course not. That’s why it’s fun.” He took her hand and kissed her cheek before clicking his seatbelt into place. “Besides, you don’t have a tenth wedding anniversary every day, and since I got promoted, we can make it.” Buffy remembered exactly the smirk on his face as she peeled out of the parking lot of Giles’s rare book store. The look was an amusing mix of self-satisfaction and bliss.
As a respectable couple fast-approaching middle age, the Harris’s rarely held drag races with punk teenage boys in large trucks. But Buffy couldn’t resist the challenge and Xander had never been able to stop her when her mind was set. They won the race, of course, and the boys had given the attractive driver the finger until she sped out of sight. “We should do that more often.”
“Absolutely.” Xander had grinned at his wife, all the while fighting with the natural human instinct to panic in a vehicle hurtling down the road at 90 miles per hour. “Now can we slow down?”
“Yes. But only because I love you.”
Buffy then thought with a chill about the serious expression on his face that night while they lay in bed together after making love. “Buffy, if anything ever happens to me, it’s okay.”
“You really shouldn’t-"
“No. I want you to know that . . . I’ve done everything I ever wanted to do. You’ve been my life. Just remember that, okay? And never regret anything. Promise me.”
“Xander-"
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
And she had tried to keep the promise. But she blamed herself. She should have been there when the gang of vampires broke into their apartment, should have been there when they held Xander down and took turns draining the blood from his body, should have been there when Willow and Oz dropped by to visit and found the body.
She regretted a lot of things. She regretted not saving him. She regretted that they had never had children. She regretted not telling him she loved him more often.
Buffy set the flowers down and knelt on the warm grass covering Xander’s grave. The plot was beautiful. A huge oak tree grew over it, and grass had covered the bare earth within a month of the funeral. Being the town’s unofficial protector had given Buffy the opportunity to pick any spot she wanted for her husband’s final resting place. “I miss you. It’s easier with friends, though. Willow and Oz and the kids have been great. They call me Aunt Buffy. Yesterday Teddy asked me why you weren’t coming back. I mean, he’s only six. He doesn’t understand. I told him you were scouting ahead, making sure everything was safe for us.
“I wish he could’ve known you better. God, I’m talking like he’s our kid or something. But I guess I’m just going to have to borrow Will’s for now, huh? It’s probably best. Slaying isn’t a kid-friendly occupation. At all.” Buffy ran her fingers gently over the cool stone, wishing briefly that it were Xander’s face they were tracing instead of his name. “I’ve made it this far, though. I’m the first Slayer to live this long. The only one, unless I get knocked off before Faith finally gives up or they decide to pull the plug on her.”
The Slayer absently pulled on a tuft of grass. “It’s our anniversary. I always come, right? Four years and I haven’t missed one yet. Almost dark now, though. I get to go patrol. It’s lonely patrolling, well, alone. I miss when we used to go together. I miss stopping just to hold each other. I miss waking up next to you. I miss everything about you. But no regrets, right? I did promise.” She knelt and brushed her lips against the stone. “Happy anniversary. I love you.” Then, smiling, Buffy rose—a bit more slowly than in the old days—and walked away.