I don't care if anyone else likes this. I wrote it because the end of "Him" bummed me out. It was therapy.
"By conquered you don't mean 'killed'?" Dawn asked in horror. "Not that I care anymore. RJ sucks."
"Nope." Xander waved the jacket over his head again. It was less impressive this time. "Okay," he said, dropping it on the floor, "Mostly I held his legs, and Spike grabbed the jacket. And RJ just stood there." He kicked the jacket with his foot. "And he is now destined to slide down the same rocky path to obscurity as his brother."
"Speaking of Spike ..." Buffy looked out the door. "Nope. Not grabbing a smoke." She turned to Xander, her arms crossed over her chest. "Forget someone?"
"Oh," replied Xander, with mock surprise. "Was I supposed to bring dead boy?"
Buffy looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Xander. We discussed this."
"I know. I invited him." He picked up the jacket and carried it into the living room. "I told him we were having a ritual burning of the evil thing. Can I help it if he thought I meant him?" He looked at the assortment of friends already in the room. "Hi guys."
"You didn't bring Spike?" Dawn asked. "Good."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "He did help. He'd probably just sit in the corner quietly."
"Or start screaming at imaginary people," Anya said. "I hear he's very good at that. Oh, and giggling. Buffy, didn't you say he giggles? And he could still be dangerous."
"Oh, hell." Willow lit a long stemmed match and thrust it into the kindling among the fireplace logs. "We're all dangerous." The flame caught. "Well, maybe not Xander."
"I am too." Xander thought a moment. "Not that that's a good thing." He sat beside Buffy on the couch. "No. Seriously. I asked if he wanted to come over, and he said no. Said he might make you and Dawn uncomfortable. So I dropped him back at the apartment. His choice."
"Really?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah. Really. I even told him he could read my Superman collection, if he was really careful unbagging them and didn't bend back the covers."
Buffy patted Xander's knee. "You're a saint." She pointed towards the jacket. "Okay. Who's for a weenie roast?"