*****

I've been in a bad mood for weeks now. Not just a bad mood, but a depressed mood too. Nothing helps. Lord knows Anya tries. But I think she tries the wrong things. Fuzzy bras and glow in the dark rubbers aren't going to help. I mean, yeah, fucking is great, while you're doing it, but then it stops and I have to lay there, hold her and pretend that it took care of all my problems.

That's what I'm doing now, holding her while she falls asleep. She asks me if I'm happier and of course I say yes. I'm not stupid. I know how to respond to Anya when she asks those questions. Yeah, okay, that one time I said "I'm still down," and she got very, very upset and left. When she came back, she forgave me for hurting her feelings, but only after I worshipped her with my tongue.

That's what it is with her. It's sex. She's here with me because she likes sex and I have it with her. I'm not sure if she realizes yet that millions of guys would have sex with her too. But I'm sure when she does realize it, she'll be out the door quicker than Buffy can stake a vamp. And that knowledge does nothing to help my depression. I want. . . I want a lot, actually. Probably much more than I deserve.

Is having a deep meaningful relationship too much to ask? How about to be able to be with some one and just sit and talk about something other than orgasms, other guys and witchcraft. With Anya, Buffy and Willow, that's the only thing we talk about.

Anya's asleep which is probably a really good thing since I can feel the tears stinging my eyes. I think about everything lying here. I remember first seeing Buffy and just wanting her. Not only because she's hot, but because I had a flash of what it would be like to be held by her. Then we started hanging out and everything inside of me wanted her to love me. Those eyes that softened whenever a certain undead guy came into the room; I wanted those eyes to just look into my eyes and see me. *ME*, not just her friend Xander, goofy guy who'll cheer you up when you need it.

But that never happened and as I grow older and place my feet more and more into the real world and less and less in my fantasies, I see that it never will.

Willow. I can't help but sigh when I think of her. Best friend. The other woman. Lips and brains and heart. I thing I'm the most disappointed about my failing at that relationship, mainly because we were so good as friends and I had to fuck it up by trying for more. I couldn't just be happy for what she gave me; I wanted it all. I kissed her and tried to stretch her friendship with me to the max. I didn't mean to damage our friendship, really, I didn't. I just. . .wanted to feel what it was like to have her look at me like she did Oz.

Cordelia was different. I started out with her because she was hot and she could kiss and hey, she showed interest in me. Not much, but interest none the less. But what was once just some groping turned into me loving her. And this is when the tears start because I think she loved me. Maybe not exactly as I loved her, but I could hold her and she'd let me. I could tell her that my parents. . .She knew the reasons why my mother was over-accommodating when guests were over. Cordelia knew what she was trying to cover up and still, Cordy stayed with me, and once or twice, she comforted me.

I could see in her eyes that she cared about me and while I was with her, I was stupidly happy because I let myself think that I deserved all that. But then it came crashing down and I was put in my place.

And Faith. What the fuck was I doing with Faith? Hormones were only part of it. The other part went something like this, 'Wow, a pretty girl likes me. She's a Slayer. She's wants *ME*, not some vampire with nice hair, she wants *ME*.'

But I found out that it wasn't true. She wanted a cock and I happened to have one available for her use.

And now onto Anya, the very girl that is asleep in my arms. Sometimes I see something in her eye that resembles that gleam that Cordelia had, but then it shifts and only moments later, she's tugging off my clothes. I like sex, really I do. But I want it with someone who'll look at me while we're doing it and say they love me and mean it. I'm tired of sex. I want to make love and I'm not ashamed that I sound like a female when I say that. And as much as I hate to admit it, I would die for a love like Buffy and Angel have. The type of love where it hurts when you're apart. The type of love where you can actually feel the other person. The type of love that can sustain you for a lifetime, maybe more.

I've pretty much given up on that though.

Fuck it. I can't sleep, so I wriggle away from Anya and get dressed, leaving a note on the pillow. I make sure to draw a small heart by her name; it keeps her happy. I don't even notice the chill in the air; I'm too swept up in my depression. I need to figure out what's bothering me.

Sunnydale isn't the type of place to be taking midnight strolls, but more and more I find myself out here at night, my hands shoved in my pockets and my shoulders slumped. I'm not quite sure if I'd care if a vampire or demon killed me. I've always had that fatalism to me and now as the pressing thoughts of my life assault me more and more often, that fatalism grows.

I've tried to figure out exactly when it was that I became inner angst boy and I've narrowed it down to either first or second grade. I'm not sure what happened then but I can vaguely remember having the same pressing feelings that I feel today. They come in waves. The wave had receded for a while after high school but now, it's washing over me and I can't break free of the undertow. I feel so lost and I should be used to it but even that familiarity sets me off balance.

I'm at the park, sitting on a swing and trying to figure out my life and myself. It's the very same swing that I sat on when I was four years old and first met Jesse. I think he was the first person who cared about me, but it wasn't always the way I wanted him to. We were best friends but he only lived to be fifteen and at that age there are certain things that you don't talk about. I know that I loved him, I mean, he was a friend and I'm pretty sure that he loved me but you don't say those things when you're guys. But even though we had this unspoken feeling for each other there was always those things that let me know that I didn't deserve the love I wanted from him. Girls were always there. When given the chance, Jesse would always go talk to a girl before me. Not that that's strange because, I mean, hormones. But I remember this time when Jesse and I went to the mall; we went to the mall solely to get me out of my house. It was when my dad first lost his at the factory, which gave him extra tim

Not that I'm mad at Jesse for it. If I hadn't been so sad that day, I would have tried to talk to one of Cyndi's friends. It's just that memory drives home the fact that I loved Jesse more than he loved me. I would have never left him alone when he was sad, especially not for Cyndi Romel. I still shudder to this day when I think about her. It's a good thing she moved away before freshman year.

Even though this park is one of Sunnydale's favorite demon hot spots, it's empty tonight. I don't want to be here but I don't want to be any place else either. If I go home, I'd end up waking up Anya and I'd have to explain that I was just feeling weird so I went for a walk, that would lead to more sex and I'm just too tired to want that. Before I know it, I'm up and my feet are moving, taking me to where ever they want to go. My mind isn't really paying attention to my surroundings, which, in Sunnydale, can be a very bad thing.

But when I finally focus, I find myself at Giles' front door with my fist raised to knock. I try to just turn away, telling myself that there is no reason to disturb him this late. But I knock anyway, then panic and just when I think I'm going to start running away before he can open the door, the door opens.

I let out a breath when I see that it's not Giles who opens the door. It's his friend, his orgasm friend, Olivia. She rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands then just looks at me with a yawn. She's wearing Giles' shirt and I'm pretty sure nothing else. "Are you looking for Rupert?" she asks, to which I just blink. The expression on her face changes then she turns inside and I can tell that Giles is coming to the door.

I continue just to stand there when he appears, wrapped in a gray silk robe. He's not wearing his glasses and when I notice that fact I bite my lip. "Xander? What's going on?" he asks me with a tired voice. I don't say anything and his brow creases. He steps out a bit, but does not cross the threshold, probably thinking that I might have been turned. "Xander?" he asks again, his voice no longer tired, just concerned.

I realize that I have to speak now. With a sigh, I shake my head, then say, "N-nothing. It's nothing." I look down at the ground and at my feet then at his while I mumble, "I don't know why I came here."

"Are you all right?" he asks.

I look up, feeling almost happy that he asked but then I see him with Olivia, standing in the door frame, looking couple-y. "I'm fine. I can handle it. I'm sorry I bothered you." Hastily, I walk away, ignoring his voice behind me. Once I am outside of his complex, I sink to the ground, my back supported by the rough wall. Everything is so clear to me now. I've been depressed and in a bad mood since Anya and I went over to Giles' house. The day I had to pick up Spike and take him home with me. The day I learned that his orgasm friend was visiting him.

I hate her so much and I don't even know her.

"Xander?" I hear. Looking up, I see Giles, now with clothes and weapons. "Xander, what's going on?"

He keeps his distance until I say, "I'm not a vampire, Giles." The hand holding the stake lowers and he moves closer as I turn my eyes back to the bush in front of me.

Sitting down next to me, I can tell that he's still on guard as Giles asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lie. "I'm fine."

"Yes. Crying outside of my home while sitting in the midst of shrubbery definitely does show that you are, as you say, fine," he says, noticing the tears that I do not. He shifts the stake into his other hand, then reaches out to me, his fingers brushing my cheek, stealing my tears.

Shifting my face away from him, ashamed that he's witnessing me cry, I say, "I have to go now."

I hear him sigh as I struggle to make it to my feet. "I wish you'd talk to me, Xander. I know I'm not on the top of everyone's list, but I tend to listen well and without judgment."

"I can't talk to you about this."

"Why?"

I sigh. He's what I need to talk about and there is no way that I can tell him tonight's revelation. I can't tell him that I've discovered that I don't want him to be with his orgasm friend. I can't tell him that I want him to be with me. I can't tell him that after I got back from Oxnard, my hours with him were the only thing that kept me in this town. Everyone else was in school, but at least I could spend time visiting with him. Those visits made my days special and now I barely see him.

I finally remember that he's asked me something, so I make up a lie. "Because. . .it's about, um, my parents and, uh, you don't need to be bothered with it."

"Xander, I am here for you at anytime."

I shake my head as he stands up and looks directly in my eyes. "You have company," is all I say before I turn, make my way out of the bushes and hurry down the sidewalk, headed for home.

**

Anya is on top of me, moving rhythmically, leading herself to an orgasm. While I'm feeling the pleasure, my heart's not into it. Neither is my mind. As Anya moans and moves her fingers to her clitoris, my mind's telling me that the only thing keeping her here is my hard dick. My mind's telling me that the only emotions she feels for me is caused by the fact that I am her first. I've glanced through enough of Buffy's girlie magazines to know that girls usually fall in love with the person they lose their virginity too. Only it's not real love.

My mind is also telling me that I don't want to be in bed with her. I want someone else, someone who feels the same for me as I feel about him. But even that is flawed because Giles doesn't feel that way about me. I thought, in the back of my mind, that perhaps he did or if not, that one day he would. But now I realize that he won't for many reasons. One, I don't deserve anything more than I get right now and hell, I don't even deserve that. Two, Olivia is who occupies Giles' heart. She gets to spend time with him, not me. Three, I'll always be the same old Xander to him. I'm not the type of person he'd want around all the time Which is what I deserve.

"Jesus, Xander," Anya's voice brings me out of my mind. "Are you planning on having an orgasm soon?" She looks a little annoyed with me and as I look at the clock, I see why. I can usually last anywhere from fifteen minutes to forty-five. We've been fucking for over an hour and I think she's had at least three orgasms.

I grab her hips and close my eyes as I try to make myself come. It's usually not this hard to come, but today it's almost painful and I can feel tears spring to my eyes because I can't come. Anya can sense that something's wrong and thankfully she doesn't say anything. Moving off of me, she lets her mouth trail down my body until her mouth is attached to my dick; I no longer wear condoms with her since we're both clean and she's on the pill. In the back of my mind, I remind myself to thank her for this. I know that it can't be that wonderful for her since not only does she have my precum to deal with but her own lubrication as well.

But it is due to the fact that my eyes are closed and her warm mouth surrounds me that I'm able to come. I think about Giles and his mouth and I feel the pressure within my balls snap. It's almost painful, but I come, grunting. I'm careful not to grunt anything intelligible, it'd end up being something like 'Giles!', and Anya wouldn't like that.

Anya waits until I've stopped shooting cum into her mouth before she moves up and lays her head on my shoulder. I don't open my eyes; I don't want to. Any pleasure I just felt during my orgasm has quickly faded away. Now it's just me and my depression again.

Anya is quick to fall asleep and it's only a half hour before I slip out from under her and dress. It's noon, so I know she's only taking a nap, but I don't want to lay there. I want to be out. . .somewhere, but she wouldn't like that, so I sit down in my chair and pick up a book. I sigh as I realize that it's the book that Giles gave me a while back. I don't know why he did. I don't even like poetry. I don't understand it and why doesn't this shit rhyme? I set the book down and just stare at Anya for a while. It's amazing how numb I am about her. I think I loved her, but I think the realization that she doesn't love me like I love her made my love go numb.

Numb. If she wasn't here, I don't think I'd feel it.

Vaguely I notice my stomach clenching in as a sign that I'm hungry but I ignore it. I'm so incredibly aware of what goes into my body nowadays it's scary. Now, I know I'm known for my habit of eating junk food and lots of it, but now I can barely force myself to eat a sandwich or some grapes. I've always either eaten too much or eaten too little. There is no in between with me. Sure, when the others are around, to keep up appearances, I have to eat like they're used to, but it doesn't ever stay in my stomach for long.

It's funny how everyone always assumes that only girls are sensitive about how they look.

I don't think Anya cares too much, but I wonder if Giles does. If I had more muscles, would he look at me differently? If I was a little thinner, would he want me? I shrug. That's what I'm trying now. My weight has always fluctuated but he hasn't ever seemed to notice.

A day can be so long when you're depressed. Sometimes I wish I was the type of person who just sleeps when they're depressed. I try to, but I never can. I can just drape my arm over my eyes and hope that there really is a sandman and he'll come and put me to sleep. But with my luck the sandman would be a demon and he'd sprinkle blinding powder on me or something.

Not that would be all that bad. I mean really, what good are my eyes? If I were blind, maybe Giles would take pity on me and would let me move in with him and he'd kick his skanky-ass orgasm friend out and take care of me full time. He could teach me Braille and then I could research with him again. Shaking my head, I realized that there aren't too many demonology books for the blind out there.

But if I went deaf and dumb, Giles could take care of me and I could earn my keep by reading his books. That works. And we could just communicate through hand gestures or other things. And I'm sure no one would miss my voice. Although, I'd miss hearing his. Sometimes it's very soft and fragile and other times it's harsh and commanding. I even like it when he's correcting me or telling me to not be so annoying.

I should just stop my internal musing. Nothing will ever happen with me and Giles. Nothing. Because I don't deserve for him to return any feelings. Why would he? Sometimes I annoy myself and I can't blame the others for needing to get away from me sometimes. Okay, all the times.

And he needs someone intelligent. Maybe not as intelligent as he is, but someone who can hold a conversation about something other than Madonna's breasts or Superman or the Dodgers. And he wants someone to read poetry with and I'm sure he won't want to stop to explain everything to me. And current events. I've heard of Chechnya and Kashmir and other places, but I couldn't say what was going on there. When the news comes on, I zone out.

My eyes dart to the bed as Anya wakes up and stretches. She's wearing her waking up smile and she's directing it towards me. It shifts into another smile and that means one thing. She wants more sex.

And me? I just want Giles.

But even as I think that, I put the poetry book away and stand up. I move back to the bed mindlessly and without me even really being aroused, my dick's hard. I've learned that it doesn't need me to be happy; it just needs someone wanting to make it happy.

It doesn't realize that if I had Giles, he would make both of us happy.

~end~