"Stop!" he bellowed. "If you're going to kill someone, kill me."
"Very well."
Xander ground his teeth in pain as the energy began to course through him.
He'd had a hunch. When Giles had sent Buffy to be "tested," Xander had discreetly tagged along. He'd found the man going all Emperor Palpatine and blasting Buffy, and he hadn't hesitated.
Finally, after what had seemed like hours, the pain stopped, and Xander realized he was still breathing. He blinked and looked over to where Buffy was picking herself up.
"Huh?" he mumbled.
The man spoke with a clipped British accent, his voice cold, "You have failed, Miss Summers." He looked at Xander, "You, on the other hand, Mister Harris, have passed with flying colors."
"HUH?!" they chorused.
"How do you know the chosen ones?" the Inquisitor asked calmly. "'No greater love hath a man than he lay down his life for his brother.' Not for millions, not for glory, not for fame. For one person, in the dark, where no one will ever know... or see."
Never was there a better description of why Xander's a hero.