Another day of
school, and Xander wishes the Major would hurry up his wacky plotting already.
He's exhausted from the Faith romp and laying awake until dawn wondering about
his parents and when someone was going to have one of those expository moments
they always have in books. This was
only after he shed a few hundred more tears for his most recent horrible life
choice and accidentally somehow killing Buffy off. As he walked to class today,
the halls so familiar and real, he kept expecting to see her round a corner,
gum popping and heels clicking.
Mr. Davis is
droning on again. The shop teacher is giving one of his weekly speeches about
the proper handling of the equipment with the requisite, gory story of the kid
in a class a couple of years ago that cut his own finger off, how they had to
scoop it up and put it in someone's drained coke from lunch, on the ice left to
keep it cold. How they'd had to rush the kid to the hospital and the doctors
has sewn it back on, how they'd had to put leeches on the tip of his finger to
get enough blood flow, enough circulation to make sure that the finger didn't
rot off.
Now that was just
gross.
This time, he
doesn't make any wiseass comments. He's actually used most of these tools on
the job, and he really knows how dangerous they are. He has a few of his own
stories that he's sure Mr. Davis would appreciate.
And won't it be
nice to finally excel at a class for a change?
Goggles. Check.
Power safety switch. Check. No horseplay. Check.
Jeff Wright is at a
table with Xander and three other classmates. He picks up a power drill and
squeezes the trigger, pointing it at the kid on his left like a gun, drill bit
squealing as it turns at a rate too fast for the naked eye to see. Shoves it at
him, like he's trying to put a few holes in him.
"Hey, knock it
off," Xander warns.
"Mind your own
fucking business Harris,"
"Hey,"
Xander throws his hands up defensively in the air. "Nobody wants to become
a Mr. Davis anecdote."
"Mr. Wright,
put down the drill and knock it off or you'll win a field trip to the
principal's office." The teacher's voice carries clearly from the front of
the room.
Jeff replaces the
drill on the table and bends over his assignment.
Thankful, Xander
concentrates on his own project, but knows it's not going to be that easy.
Wright always was an ass when they were in school, and he never knew when to
back off.
"So Harris, I
hear you and that Faith chick have been fucking?"
Ah, here it comes.
"I'd think
she's pretty loosened up by now, but man, she's one hot little bitch ain't
she?"
Stifle that urge to
shove his fist right down that filthy mouth. It's so familiar. He did it the
first time he was in high school because he was wary of incurring Jeff's wrath;
Wright could make your high school experience hell on earth, Hell mouth
notwithstanding.
This time, he
represses that violent craving because that doesn't solve anything. He's a
grown up now. Has his own place, a job. He's bigger than this little punk-ass
now, more mature. And he's not going to be sucked into petty high school
politics. It's not even *his * life anyway.
"Maybe when
you're done with her, you could send her over my way. That girl's got some lips
on her, I bet she can suck cock like a pro."
He throws the punch
before he even realizes he's done it. And you know, fuck maturity. This is his chance to burn off all those
years of being trodden on and mocked, and he's gonna enjoy the catharsis while
it lasts.
He's on Wright, has
him on the floor, and his fists are pummelling him in a mindless release that
feels so good, so pure. After five years of being back up for the Slayer,
Xander's learned a few things about how to hold his own in a fight. And that's
against vampires and demons. Some punk, high school kid is no match for him.
This kid represents every bit of shit Xander got in high school, everyone who
ever called him a pussy. And payback really is a bitch.
He takes one good
right to the eye, but it's soon obvious that he'll come out the winner in this
scuffle. There's a bit of blood flowing when he feels someone pulling him off
of Jeff, two of the football players, at Mr. Davis' instruction.
"Harris,
you're out of here. That's enough for today."
No mention of the
principal's office? Honor society does have its benefits. He grabs his stuff
and walks out the door, but not before he catches a few admiring looks from
some of the other students.
Kicked out of
class, nowhere to go, and isn't it just instinctual to head over to the
library?
Giles is sitting at
his desk in the office; Wesley is seated across from him. Xander has obviously
disturbed them in the middle of some serious conversation.
"Xander, what
on earth happened?" Giles exclaims, standing up and coming around the
desk. Reaches out, tilts his head back and looks at the black eye forming under
the fluorescent lights of the library.
"I fell
down." Xander laughs out loud at the excuse he always used when he was
smaller and his dad...
"Very funny,
it's obvious that you've been in a fight." Giles probes at the edge of the
wound.
"Well I should
say so," Wesley stands up indignantly. "How uncivilized. And one more
bit of proof that he and Fai..."
Giles turns and
silences him with a cold look. Xander and Faith must be the topic of yet more
speculation. It's nice to know that everyone in the school, including her
Watcher and Xander's proxy parent have thought more about Xander and Faith's
relationship then they have. Than he
has, who knows what Faith thinks.
"I have an ice
pack. "Giles opens the cooler where he keeps his lunch, removes one of
those freezer cold packs, keeping the egg salad and yogurt cold, and now,
reducing the swelling of Faith's defender.
Isn't that a sign
that you really love a girl, when you take a beating for her?
He'd fractured his
wrist in fourth grade when Kenny Barron pushed him down. Kenny had called
Willow a kike, and although Xander'd had no idea what that meant at the time,
he'd been compelled to defend her. So it must be true: nothing says I love you
like a few missing teeth and a concussion. And he pulls himself back from those
thoughts when it occurs to him that he's equating Faith and Willow. Anya
flashes in his mind, and he wonders if he is evil in every dimension.
************************
Home again //home?
Whoa// from school, and Xander's wondering where Giles got off to after
dropping him off. Probably grocery shopping or some other domestic task. Maybe
some quiet, alone time, and he doesn't have any idea what that might include.
What does Giles like to do? For the first time since he's known the British
man, he's curious.
Xander closes the
refrigerator door; pops the top of a coke can and wishes like hell Giles kept
beer in the apartment. Brandy? Vermouth? Yes, no problem there. It's probably
just as well; Faith mentioned that he'd had a little problem with the alcohol
before. If he poured himself a cocktail, they'd probably pull some sort of
intervention-'Xander, we're afraid you're sliding into alcoholism again' Again,
I never started in the first place...oh wait, I did...but that wasn't me. Now
it's *my* turn to fry my liver.
As he takes a swig
of coke, the doorbell rings. Ed McMahon, with a big check? Probably not. It's
Willow on the doorstep, looking pissed. Her face cherries in the snow, flamed
cheeks set in a baby-soft, white face, and Xander wishes suddenly for Faith to
blip out of existence. Maybe not forever, but for a weekend.
"Hey Will,
what's up?" Oh yeah, very pissed. She's doing that little narrow,
beady-eyed thing. Hello *resentful face*. "Um, come in?"
She slips past him,
keeping eye contact as their shoulders brush. And this is the part where he's
supposed to *know* what he did wrong. Racks his brain and he's coming up with a
blank, stupid brain-think.
All of a sudden she
bursts out, "Oh my God, what happened to you?" and she's touching his
face much like Giles did when he'd first seen Xander after the fight. So close to him now that he wonders if he
reached out and drew her to him if she would slap him. One kiss might be worth
it, one more kiss.
"Oh that, it's
nothing. Some kids came to the door collecting for UNICEF. I sent 'em packing
though. They'll know better than to come to this neighborhood again." Wonders if he'll adjust to the new hormone
situation anytime soon or if he'll spend the rest of his life in this reality
in jail for sexual assault.
She laughs, and her
fingers linger against his cheekbone, a tiny flutter as his heart beats faster.
"How many were there?"
"Oh I don't
know, three or four?"
Her grin widens,
and she removes her hand from his face, leaving him with a disappointment
that's hard to name. "That many huh?"
"But they were
tough."
She's in the
kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator, comes up with another can of coke
and joins him again. "You don't know, do you?" she accuses him.
"It's that
whole global warming thing, isn't it? Look I didn't mean it, I had no idea all
those fluorocarbons were gonna screw up the atmosphere...my bad. I was gonna
work on it tonight. Honest."
She takes a swig of
the soda and shakes her head simultaneously, which is very difficult to do. He
knows. He's tried. "You were supposed to come over last night and work on
your chem."
//Love you babe,
love you so much.//
Well he was working
on chemistry, just not with Willow.
**
She knows she's hit
a sensitive spot when he looks down and refuses to meet her eyes. Xander Harris
has a way of shutting down when he's unable to cope; she's seen it before. Oh,
he functions well enough, moving through his day like some kind of animated
zombie, but *he's* not there. He goes someplace where even she can't reach him.
It's a survival
instinct, learned during a particularly tough childhood. She's never directly
asked him about it, but he's told her certain things; she's seen some other
stuff, and she's always amazed at how he can laugh off some truly bad shit...
until, he reaches that level, and he just has to cut himself off emotionally.
That's it...boiling point...melt down.
He was like that
when Buffy died.
When mom and dad
had died in the fire, and he'd moved in with Giles. He was doing pretty good
too, coping well enough, going to a therapist. She and Buffy instituted Friday
night group hug nights. Everyone stayed over at Buffy's or Willow's house;
sometimes Giles', and they watched movies and ate ice cream and
chocolate...lots of chocolate. Buffy had always said there wasn't anything that
couldn't be solved by chocolate.
She was wrong.
The master killed
her, fed from her and drowned her. Xander and Angel had found her. The vampire
couldn't bring her back, but Xander had tried. Knelt down in the filthy water,
held her in his arms and tried to force his breath into her. He'd tried for
over an hour, Angel finally had to pull him off, tell him it was useless, she
was gone.
Angel had told her
that he thought Xander would do something to hurt himself when he finally let
go of her body and looked up at the vampire, he'd seen that look of
hopelessness and desperation before. Survivor's guilt, not that Angel'd called
it that, but Willow knew it. She was Jewish after all.
He'd physically
dragged Xander above ground and deposited him with her, warning her to watch
him closely. Angel had looked once at her as she held Xander, told her he was
sorry he couldn't save Buffy, started to say something else, but stopped and
walked away. He'd disappeared for two days.
She'd been worried,
but he'd returned. He'd been quiet, not that he was talkative before...quieter,
but back helping them control the Hellmouth, and she was able to concentrate
all of her worry into watching Xander fall apart, feeling helpless to stop his
slide into self destruction.
Then when Faith
showed up, Willow watched as Xander and she hit it off. Traded barbs, trained
together, shared inside jokes and started dating. She knows that Faith is good
for Xander in her way, but that affection she bleeds from Xander Willow just
can't help feeling belongs to her.
Even though, Angel
and all. Yeah, there's that. Which Xander doesn't have clue one about. Because,
how would she explain it now? Oh yeah, by the way, I've been lusting after him
for like forever and now he seems to like me too, sorry I never mentioned it
before. Right. Put your own crisis on hold and listen to me go on about loving
a vampire.
"You were with
Faith, weren't you?" She knows it's the truth before she even says it out
loud, before she lays a thousand little flashes of writing 'I heart X.H.' in
her notebook, and naming all her fish derivatives of Xander Harris to rest forever.
He's with Faith now, and there will be no more fantasies of him waking up one
day realizing he loves her.
He *loves* her, but
not in *that* way. No one's ever loved her in *that* way.
She's about to
*attempt * to say *something * when she's saved by Faith busting in the door
full of frenetic energy.
"What the fuck
happened to you?" She's across the room and standing in front of them
while they sit on the couch staring up at her. Hands on her hips, scowl firmly
in place. Five feet two inches of hell on wheels.
************************