It's been raining here for three days straight -- pretty remarkable for California, and I've been itching to get out and just walk for a while. I like to walk around, and reminisce about the good times; the times when I was still in the loop, part of the gang, the man in charge of munchies. It's been a long time since anyone needed me. I never thought that all those idiots who constantly told me that high school was going to be the best years of my life would be right. Who knew four years of hell - both literal and figuratively - would be the high point of my life?

But at last, today, the sun is starting to peek through the clouds. So I can actually get out of this dank basement and interact with the world. I shrug into my jacket and lope up the stairs and outside easily, eager to smell the damp, crisp air.

I begin wandering without purpose, sort of the story of my life, thinking about different battles and the way the world is today. Without realizing where I was wandering, I found myself in front of Willow's house. It's for sale now. Willow is at school in the dorm and her parents aren't ever home anyway.

That was kind of nice when we were kids. She was constantly sleeping over at my house, hanging out after school. Those are times I miss too. Willow needed me back then. I didn't think of her as a case study, I made her laugh, and I was her friend.

I pause as that thought hits me. I lean against the streetlamp and breathe deeply. I *was * her friend. When exactly did that become past tense? This past summer? After high school? Yesterday? It's hard to pick the exact moment. I just know that now, we're more of acquaintances than friends. I can't even pick the last day I saw her. More than a week ago. More than two weeks actually, when I caught a glimpse of her through the crowd at the Bronze.

I know things have changed a lot for her since high school. It really fell apart when Oz left Sunnydale. Willow kinda closed up and wouldn't let anyone near - especially if they were male. Which was torture for me, because I'm her Xander. The guy she's known forever. Can't say I didn't give her reasons to not trust me, but it still hurts.

It's so weird to think about. Willow and I aren't best friends. Okay, we haven't been for a while, but this is the first time the idea's occurred to me. I'm usually the last to know everything. I'm kinda slow on the uptake, which is why they don't bother telling me much anymore. Willow probably figured it out a while ago and decided not to bring it to my attention. To spare my feelings.

I sit on the curb directly across from her house and stare at it, letting the feelings of sadness crash over me in waves. If this is the death of something, I need a mourning period. It was hard enough when, way back in senior year, she chose Oz over me. I never mentioned it, never let anyone know how hurt I was that she didn't think I was worth fighting for. But now, we've let our friendship slip into oblivion. And it's not anyone's fault really. I can't blame her, because she's off going to college and becoming someone worthwhile and beautiful. And I can't blame me, because I just don't fit into the best friend mold a person like that needs. I can't understand the difficulties in her life now -- because I'm not there on a day-to-day, or even week-to-week basis.

It should have been different. We should have gravitated together after she broke up with Oz and I broke up with Anya. We should have comforted each other more and maybe explored that big freeway not taken. But resentment and guilt have a strange way of creating wedges. I was mad that she chose Oz over me, she was guilty that we ever fluked. Then, one day you miss a phone call that you don't bother to return, and suddenly silence is easier than working to maintain a relationship.

Damn. How did this happen? Willow was, and still is, one of the most important people in my life. She was my best friend, support system, tutor, and so much more. And now, she's just… not there. She's busy, and I have to work, and we're not Willow and Xander anymore.

Sighing, I catch a glimpse of red out the corner of my eye, and I jump up, ready to flee. Then my brain stops me feet. Why should I be afraid of Willow? She's not going to bite me or anything. I know that for a fact because it's daylight. I watch her walk up the street towards her house with baited breath, and finally I get the courage to walk across the street to meet her in front of her house.

She smiles slightly at me, and I try to phrase the thoughts that were in my head a few minutes before. I want to try to be friends. Really make the effort. And now that there aren't any other obstacles, find out if there's anything else between us.

"Hi," I begin, hoping my nervousness is sufficiently masked.

"Hi," she replies, shoving her hands deeply into her pockets. "What are you doing here?" she asks, indicating her house with a toss of her chin.

"I was… just out walking," I reply slowly. "It's been thundering and lightning-ing and storming out and I wanted to walk before the next storm." I pause, trying to think of something else to say. "It's a cold day for September," I finally say.

She gives me a funny look and it's in that instant, that second, that I realize just how big the gap between us is now. She can't read me, and I can't read her. I can't tell if she's amused by me, or annoyed, or just looking for an excuse to get away from me. And I'm suddenly filled with a sadness I've never known. She was the person I was supposed to be friends with for life. The person who would be amused by me when we were eighty in neighboring rest homes. The person who would love me, no matter what, through all the ups and downs of life. But now, we're practically strangers.

"It calls for rain this afternoon," she replied slowly, looking at me, "So you'd better get a good walk in."

"Yeah," I agree. My heart has sunk to a whole new depth and tongue feels all swollen and dry. This is insane. This is *Willow *. I've known her my whole life, spoken more words to her than anyone, and I can't think of anything to say.

She fidgets nervously with the zipper on her jacket, and I fight the tears that are suddenly behind my eyelids. I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to get back to being Xander and Willow.

We stand there in utter silence for a few moments, and I realize just how deafening a silence can be. Not so very long ago, we could have stood together for hours in comfortable silence, but now, now there's this awkwardness between us. We don't hang out, we don't talk everyday, and we have no idea what's going on in each other's lives.

"Do you need help with anything? With the house?" I finally offer, not knowing what else to day.

"Oh!" She waves at the house nervously. "Just here to check for mail. Then I'm going back home."

I'm sure she doesn't even know that referring to her dorm room as 'home' has left me feeling even worse. I haven't been to her dorm since last spring, when I helped Buffy move some furniture back to her mom's house.

"Okay, then," I reply brightly.

"So, um, I'll see you around, okay?" she says.

I nod dumbly, not trusting myself to speak past the lump of tears in my throat. She bounds up the steps and into the house without looking back even once.

And I'm left on the sidewalk saying goodbye to us. To who we used to be together. Now I know for sure that she's going to move on and we'll lose touch completely. This last conversation proved it to me like a sledgehammer to the head. But it's almost okay. Because I was the most important person in Willow's life once. I was someone she loved. And best of all, I got to love her for a little while.

I cast a glance at her house, wondering if she knows how grateful I am for it, exactly how much it meant to me. And then I do the saddest thing of my life. I walk away.