Who: Xander and Willow. What: XANDER'S DEATH. When: Sunday. Evening. Where: The Hyperion. Rating: There's death.
The past few days had been a blur for Xander. He'd slept a lot. More than he could ever remember. And then there was the massive confusion. He saw faces. He saw people that should have been dead or gone and yet, despite it all, there they were. His parents. Watching him, silently degrading him with their glares for the failure of a son that he had been. He spent hour upon hour muttering about how it wasn't his fault, that they were to blame. But they wouldn't listen. And then they left, suddenly leaving Joyce Summers in their place. Buffy's mom. Then Tara. Soon followed by the various faces of the people that he'd seen die during his time in Sunnydale. Eventually he saw Faith. She was smiling though. Happy. And it wasn't even with that playful smirk that he'd grown so used to. It was something else -- something new. Like the happiness that she was playing off actually existed. It was real.
Next thing he knew, Anya was there. At first she was blaming him for everything that he'd done to her. Then she was telling him that she loved him. He never could quite tell if it was real or not, especially in Anya's case, but Xander knew, through it all, that there was something seriously wrong with him.
The images and faces became a lot more vivid after a while. Distorted and unnatural. Wrong. Dark circles quickly developed around his eyes and his skin became so terribly pale that it was almost impossible for one to determine as to whether he was a vampire or some other form of the living dead.
It was only after Xander started choking up his own blood that he knew.
I'm dying, he realized, I'm not gonna make it.
He lay rigidly in his bed, sweat dampening his entire body as another fit of coughs overtook him. A painful sensation inched it's way up his throat and, almost at once, blood began to spout from his mouth. He instantly screwed his eyes shut and spat out the copper taste that began to fill his mouth.