__Catharsis__
By Cathryn
”I talked to Angel," Xander said abruptly.
It had been nearly a week since Angel and Buffy's charade to fool Faith. As misbegotten as Wesley still felt that charade had been, even he had to admit that it had provided some important information, guidelines to narrow down their furious - and fruitless - research into the Ascension. It was that research that had himself, Xander, Willow, and Buffy in the library, flipping through volumes they had gone through over and over in listless hope finding something that had somehow been overlooked. Giles had gone to search for new books, which Wesley privately suspected was an excuse to get away from the increasingly restless teenagers. Wesley understood that restlessness, though - he loved research, and even he was beginning to grow somewhat impatient with the unproductive studying. Instead, he found
himself sending increasingly frequent glances of concern at Xander, who was absently running his fingers over the considerably sizeable bruise darkening his face. Wesley had heard the story of that bruise thirdhand, and had watched uneasily as it was treated with the lack of sympathy that seemed to chracterize Xander's relationship with his friends - at least on their part.
Buffy looked up eagerly at the mention of her undead boyfriend, a situation which thoroughly horrified Wesley, but by now he knew better than to say anything.
"What did he say?" she asked. Xander shrugged.
"Not much. He hasn't found anything new, either. So he apologized for hitting me, I spent a couple of minutes try to be gracious, I failed, I left, and that's pretty much it," Xander concluded. Buffy glared.
"You had the nerve to bring that up?" she demanded. Xander stared, startled.
"N - no. He brought it up."
"But you went over there hoping he would," she accused angrily. The shrill attack was completely unexpected, and Xander didn't know what to do.
"I - I did not! I went over to see if he knew anything about the Ascension!"
"How convenient," Buffy snapped. Wesley tried to intervene.
"Buffy, Xander, let's please focus." Naturally, he was ignored.
"I was *just* trying to help!" Xander protested.
"Don't try to snow me, Xander. You went over there to try and wring an apology out of him for something he didn't have a choice over. Grow up!"
"I HAVE!" The bitter explosion burst out from somewhere deep inside him.
He stood up so quickly he knocked his chair backward. His eyes snapped with hurt and rage as he glared first at the suddenly unreasonable Buffy, then at Willow, his supposed best friend who had yet to say a word in his defense.
"I would've pulled something like that a year ago, even a few months ago. I admit it. But - I've changed." No longer yelling, he was now quietly intense. "I'll be eighteen soon - did either of you even know that my birthday was coming? And I'm finally starting to act my age. I slip a little sometimes, but I'm trying. I *have* changed. But you know something? Neither of you noticed. I don't know if you're treating me the way you always have, and I just never paid attention before, or if you've gotten worse, but you've been treating me like a little kid making a big deal over a scrape. I'm tired of it. You two are supposed to be my friends, but you haven't noticed much of anything about me for months."
Willow spoke up tentatively. "We've been busy," she offered. "I've been trying to derat Amy, and Buffy's dealing with Faith."
Xander nodded. "Sure. And before, you were dealing with your boyfriend the werewolf and Buffy was dealing with her ex-noyfriend the homicidal maniac, but you made time to care then. You used to always listen when I was complaining, but now if I do it, I'm immature, or unforgiving, or I just don't get it. Now I'm supposed to let people strangle me or smack me around and just smile right through it." Xander fell silent suddenly, his eyes desperately searching the girls' faces for signs of understanding.
Wesley, virtually forgotten by the teenagers, also studied the girls. Willow was pale, her expressive face clearly showing her ambivalence as she was caught between guilt and reflexive anger. But Buffy - sickened dismay spread through Wesley as he learned in that moment how very self-centered his Slayer was.
Buffy's face was hard and set, her eyes returning Xander's pleading gaze with an angry glare.
"How can you say things like that?" she demanded. "It's been hard lately for us, too. You have no idea what I've been going through!"
Xander's face had fallen at her first words, but he recouped as best he could, and Wesley's dismay grew as he watched Xander retreat back to his sarcastic armor.
"You always managed to make time in your tragic life for Willow, and Giles, and even Oz, now didn't you?" His voice was sharp and cutting. "But if I ever speak up, you always make it about yourself, just like you're doing now!"
"Guys!" Willow said in protest. "We don't have time for this right now. We have to research. Can't you do this later?"
"No," Wesley said abruptly, drawing three shocked stares. "There is nothing new to research, and this is something that will not keep for later." He closed his book quietly and favored Buffy with an even stare. "Well? We are all waiting for your brilliant rebuttal." Unfair, perhaps, to take sides, but he couldn't forget the bitter frustration that Xander had evinced that night in the library. Buffy looked absolutely thunderstruck, and Wesley scarcely avoided showing his amusement at her quandary.
"Forget it," Xander said wearily. "She'll never understand until she wants to." He picked up the chair he had knocked over, saying, "I'm outta here." He turned and quietly left the library, resisting the desperate urge to look back.
Wesley suddenly found himself on the receiving end of Buffy's anger.
"How could you take his side?" she demanded. "Were you *listening* to him?"
"Yes, I was," Wesley answered. "Were you?" Before she could answer, he pointedly reopened his book and stared down at the text. Childish, but effective – Buffy subsided into a sulky silence.
Wesley slid a glance at Willow, hoping that she was capable of being reasonable. She caught the glance, looked over at the door, and started to get up. Buffy shot her a withering glare. Willow paused, then reddened and sat back down, avoiding Wesley's disappointed gaze.
If anyone was going to go after Xander, it would clearly have to be Wesley. He hesitated, torn between his reluctance to leave Xander to himself and his desire to respect the boy's privacy, being, as he was, not as well acquainted with Xander as he would have liked for such a conversation. He concluded somewhat reluctantly that Xander would probably not welcome his company and might even be embarrassed by it so soon after his outburst. He really
wouldn't know what to say to Xander, anyway.
After a moment, Wesley regretfully returned his attention to his book and began to quietly study the familiar material.
* * *