“So,” Tara said, looking up at Buffy. Her eyes darted to the empty chair opposite hers. “Should we get started?”

Tara knew something was wrong the minute Buffy had walked in. She could see the emotions on Buffy's pale face. Her eyes looked red and puffy. Her nose was runny. It was as if she'd done little but spend the last few days crying. Tara knew this was going to be a one on one session.

“He's not coming,” Buffy said, a single tear rolling down her cheek, then
swatted at it angrily. “I knew he wouldn't. Not after....”

Tara wanted to ask what happened, but she bit her tongue. She would let Buffy speak her mind at her own pace.

“It was just sex,” Buffy said, staring at Tara. Her eyes were pleading, as if trying to make her understand. “Just sex. Not what we had. Not love.”

Tara knew Buffy was trying to justify it. To Tara. To her husband. To herself.

“I thought our love was stronger than that,” Buffy whispered. “That we
could survive....anything.”

Oh sweetie, Tara wanted to say. Love isn't the movies. Love is jealous. Love hurts. Love is messy. Love is real.

But Tara didn't say a word. It wasn't her job to judge Buffy, she reminded herself. Only to help her. Counsel her. Help put some pieces of her back again.

“So he hurt me,” Buffy said, clutching her stomach, as if she was in pain. “He hurt me so much. It's like I couldn't breathe.”

Tara didn't need three guesses to figure out what William had done. How he'd hurt her. The same way Buffy had hurt him, she figured.

“And with my friend,” Buffy said, spitting out the last two words as if they were poison. “Fucking whore.”

Although Tara was taken aback by the venom in Buffy's voice, she didn't even blink. She'd seen it all before. And worse. The human condition laid before her, in all its glory.

You always hurt the ones you love, Tara thought. We all do.

Tara just looked down and professionally scribbled on her notepad.

“I was just so angry,” Buffy said, shaking her head in bewilderment. “It's like I wasn't even myself anymore.”

“I hated him,” Buffy said. Her eyes widened, as if she was hearing those feelings out loud for the first time. “I hated him for what he did.”

Buffy paused for the longest time, looking off into the distance before she spoke.

“So I hurt him back,” Buffy said, her lips trembling.

“I hurt us,” she said, sounding as if she was miserable. Her eyes looked haunted. “And I think there's no coming back.”

This time Tara couldn't contain herself.

“Oh Buffy,” Tara whispered. Her eyes asked the question her mind had been wanting to.

What did you do?

Cut to.....

“That...” Xander said, pausing to let his lungs gasp in a deep breath.
“That was amazing.”

“That was.....” Buffy began, trailing off to catch a deep breath, then
letting out an exhale.

Good, Buffy thought. Better than good, she thought.

Xander turned on his side to look at the woman lying besides him. Her eyes were on the ceiling. Her hair still inconceivably perfect. Not a strand was out of place. Her cheeks were flushed. She was breathing heavily through her tiny nose. Her skin was sheeny with a mixture of his and her sweat. She'd never looked more beautiful. God, he wanted her again.

“Thirsty,” Buffy said, almost absentmindedly. Xander reached to his bedside table and grabbed a bottle of Evian, took a little sip, then handed it over, watching as she put her beautiful lips to the bottle and began drinking.

Xander didn't want to move but he was absolutely bursting to take a piss.

“Bathroom,” Xander said, apologetically.

Buffy shrugged as if to say, if you've gotta go, you gotta go.

Xander looked at her ruefully, hating that he had to leave. Then he decided he'd better make it quick.

“I'll be back,” Xander said. “Don't go anywhere.”

And with that he leaned over to plant a quick kiss on Buffy's lips.

Buffy hesitated. She'd gotten what she came here for. There was no
reason to stick around. But then she realised she had nowhere else to go. At least nowhere she wanted to. So she let Xander press his lips to hers. confirmed the continuation of their arrangement.

For now.

Buffy watched Xander go out of the corner of her eye, sipping the water. When Buffy was alone, she let herself search her feelings in the aftermath of what she'd done. She felt....nothing. Not anger. Not sorrow. Nor regret. Just numb. Comfortably numb.

“Hunh,” Buffy said, her voice sounding foreign to her ears. “I guess I am a real bitch.”

She screwed up her face and gave a wistful, bitter chuckle, then took a long sip of water. She reached over to put the bottle on the bedside table. That was when she spotted it. Her wedding ring.

Sitting on the table. Accusingly. Buffy looked at it. Stared at it. Then she looked at her hand. Stupidly. As if she expected to find it there. It wasn't. Obviously.

Buffy searched her memory. Searched through the haze of anger and the cold, calculated fury of a woman wronged. She remembered coming into the hotel room. Getting into the heels and raincoat. Sitting on the bed. Waiting for Xander. She couldn't remember taking it off. And yet she had. She looked at it again. There it was. Sitting on the bedside table. As it had the past half-hour. Silently. Accusingly.

And that was when it hit her. The shock of it. The magnitude of it. What she'd done. It felt like jumping into an ice-cold lake. And then all Buffy felt was a cold panic that wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed. Squeezed until she was literally gasping for air. And then Buffy's ears were filled with the sounds of a woman's sobs. It took a moment for her to realise she was the one that was crying.

When Xander returned, Buffy was hysterical, her face drenched with tears. She was on the floor, the bedsheets wrapped around her body. Searching for something under the bed. Frantically. Clutching something tight in one hand.

“Buffy?” Xander asked.

“Clothes,” she muttered repeatedly. “Clothes....I need my clothes....Need to.....God......”

“What?” Xander asked.

“My clothes!” Buffy screamed at him. “Don't you understand? I need my fucking clothes.”

Buffy turned away from him, leaving him perplexed.

“I have to.....go home,” Buffy whimpered, “Oh god. I can't go home. Not
after what I.......what we....”

And suddenly Buffy seemed to notice Xander.

“You,” she spit out. “Bastard. You took advantage of me. You used me.”

“We took advantage of each other,” Xander said, smirking. “Besides,
I'm not the one who showed up in your hotel room wearing nothing but a flimsy silk bathrobe.”

Buffy flinched at that statement. Because it hurt. Because she knew it was the truth.

“And why do you think that is?” Buffy asked bitterly. “Why did I come here instead of any of a thousand random bars in this goddamn city?”

Xander shrugged.

“Because I knew exactly what type of man you are,” Buffy said, walking over to him, still clutching the bedsheets tight around her body.

“And what type of man is that?” Xander asked.

“A bastard,” Buffy hissed, pushing him with a hand. God, she wanted to hit him. “An asshole.”

This time, she did punch him. In the stomach. Hard enough to make him take a step back and put some distance between them.

“A no good son of a bitch who would stop at nothing until he got exactly what he wanted,” Buffy finished. .“Regardless of who got hurt.”
Her face crumbled momentarily, but then she managed to hold herself together.

Xander shook his head.

“You chose to come here Buffy,” Xander said.

“But you knew,” Buffy said bitterly. “Didn't you? That's why you made the offer. Made it so that I couldn't tell him. You knew what it would do to him. To us. And you didn't care. Not as long as you got what you wanted.”

Xander sighed. For a moment, Buffy thought he looked like he was going to apologise.

“This is your fault,” Xander said. “And his. You know that don't you?”

Buffy's jaw dropped. She looked at him. Outraged. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. Her lips moved, but the words never came.

“All you had to do was say yes,” Xander said. “And none of this needed to have happened.”

“What?” Buffy finally managed to croak out.

“Think about it,” Xander said. “If you and William had accepted my offer....”

“Did you honestly expect us to just...” Buffy began.

“Yes,” Xander said, cutting her off.

“I don't even....” Buffy began, bewildered.

“Think about it,” Xander said. “We could have had a fun, guilt-free evening together while he counted the money and played the slot machines. And the next day, I could have just moved on. Like I always do. But you just had to do it, didn't you? You had to say no. You had to make me want the one thing I couldn't have. You had to make me...”

“Make you what?” Buffy asked.

Xander sighed. “Fall in love with you.”

Buffy's gaped at him. “You're insane,” she said finally. “This whole thing is just....insane”

Buffy turned away from him, visibly disgusted. With him. With herself.

With this whole sordid affair. Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, weeping softly.

Xander sighed deeply, plonking down on the bed.

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

“Because,” Buffy began. “I betrayed my vows. My marriage. My husband.”

Xander scoffed at that. Loudly.

“It may not mean anything to you,” Buffy said angrily wiping her tears away. “But some people actually believe in these things.”

Buffy took a few deep breaths until she'd controlled her sobs.

“I should go,” she said, standing up. Buffy held the sheet to herself tight, stepping over the mess they'd made earlier. Xander was up in a flash, standing in her way.

“I have a better idea,” he said, his hands on her waist, trying to peel the bedsheet from her body.

“No,” Buffy said, trying to push him off. “Stop.”

“I know why you came here Buffy,” Xander said, maneuvering her towards the direction of the bed.

Buffy's eyes widened. He knew about what William had done?

“Because he hurt you,” Xander said. “Didn't he?”

And then Buffy remembered. Why she'd come here. What he'd done.

“Yes,” Buffy said, her breath catching somewhere between a sigh and a sob.

“I just want to make you feel good,” Xander soothed. Buffy felt the back of her knees touch the bed.

Buffy knew Xander was lying. He didn't care about her. He was only in it for himself. But the truth hurt so much right now, she couldn't help but find herself wanting the soothing embrace of a lie. And right now, Buffy wanted to feel something. Anything other than the pain that gripped her heart. So she let go, letting the bedsheet fall from her body and on to the
floor.

Cut to....

“I just wanted to forget,” Buffy said, staring at Tara. Her eyes pleaded with her therapist. Trying to make her understand. “Just for a little while.”

And Tara forgot herself. Forgot that she was a therapist. Forgot that Buffy was a patient. Her patient. And in that moment, Tara crossed the room and hugged Buffy.





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