Title: A Second Chance
Rating: PG-13 (Suicide\ spousal abuse mentioned)
Relationships:
Story: Drama
Feedback: In lieu of a Faithbot yeah.
E-Mail: KeithWrestle@Yahoo.Co.uk
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters just worship at their altar.
The cemetery was empty except for a young man sitting on a worn bench. The youth was staring down at his lap, to the pistol he cradled in his hands. It was his father's gun but the young man knew that the old soak wouldn't notice its absence until too late. Slowly he raised the gun to his forehead.
"I really wouldn't do that."
The young man turned his tear-stained face to see a short figure in grey pants, a garish red shirt and brown bowler hat, stood behind him. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
The oddly dressed man dropped down on the bench beside the much taller youth. "Name's Whistler," replied the man. "We have a mutual friend."
"Really who?" Faint interest flickered across the young man's face.
"Angel."
"Oh just great, even when I try and kill myself, Dead Boy has to be involved," the youngster started to stand only to find himself pulled back down by a surprisingly strong Whistler.
"You know suicide's a really bad idea?" commented Whistler.
The youth shrugged his shoulders defiantly. "Seemed like a way out."
Whistler looked up to the heavens. "Why do I get all the easy assignments," muttered the balance demon before turning back to his companion. "So why kid? What's so bad a bullet's the only solution?"
"The name's Xander not kid!"
"Okay fine Xander, so what's the big problem?"
Xander turned a bitter face towards Whistler. "What business of yours is it anyway?"
Whistler's short temper exploded. "Listen Xander for whatever reason the Powers That Be have taken an interest in you. They don't want you adding some unplanned ventilation to your head - so humour me and talk!"
"Okay, okay," Xander muttered. "My life's always been pretty crappy. Mum and dad never gave a shit. I've made a mess of every relationship I've been in - Cordy and Anaya both hate me now. As for being a member of the Scooby gang - I'm the Zeppo, I just drag them down. I didn't notice what was going on with Willow until she nearly ended the world. They're better off without me."
"Whoa, serious self esteem issues. Look kid," Whistler pointedly ignored Xander's fierce glare, "I'm sensing a Jimmy Stewart moment coming up."
"What the-," Xander began to speak only for the world to disappear in a flash of light.
* * *
After blinking rapidly to clear his eyes, Xander realised his surroundings had changed to a children's kindergarten. "Where the hell are we?" he demanded heatedly.
"Why its lucky the children can't hear us, potty mouth," Whistler chided. "Just look and listened.
Xander reluctantly turned from the demon and to the scene before him. His jaw dropped open. "This is -."
"Just watch."
A three year old boy walked on unsteady legs to a little redheaded girl sat alone and separate from the other children. "Hello," said the boy carefully enunciating every word. "I'm Alexander Harris, do you want to be my friend?"
The little girl smiled and nodded. "My name's Willow Rosenberg, I like you."
"You remember that?"
Xander wiped away a tear. "Yeah, I do."
"Well here's what happened if you were never there."
The setting changed to a view that Xander knew well - Willow's bed room. A sight greeted the duo that caused Xander's heart to miss a beat and his mouth go dry. In the centre of the ceiling, her legs twitching horribly hung a sixteen year old Willow.
Instantly Xander leapt forward, reaching for his friend's swinging legs - only for his hands to pass right through her. His face twisted in anguish, Xander turned back to Whistler. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice hoarse with emotion.
"Your friendship was like an anchor to Willow. Without you and Jesse she was isolated at school, an easy target for Cordelia Chase and her Cordettes. Eventually the bullying caused this." Whistler pointed to the body.
Xander stumbled backwards, his head shaking. "No, no. I don't want to see any more."
Whistler looked at him sympathetically. "Sorry kid, nobody gets off this Magical Mystery Tour."
* * *
"Come on Buffy!" implored a teenaged Xander as he blew into her mouth.
"Remember this?" asked Whistler.
"I'd almost forgotten" Xander muttered.
"Well this was one of your finest moments."
"Saving Buffy." Xander nodded in understanding.
Whistler shook his head. "Actually, no. That was important but I'm talking about Angel."
Xander's forehead creased in puzzlement. "Angel?"
"You remember dragging him into the sewers?" prompted Whistler.
"Sure."
"That night you convinced him that he could make a difference. Without that night -" a score of image flashed in front of Xander. In each of them Angel was saving someone from a demon, "all these people would be dead," finished Whistler.
"Great, I helped Dead Boy -"
* * *
The scene changed again. Xander flushed in embarrassment as he watched the younger him kiss Cordelia for the first time. "Do we have to watch this?" he protested.
"Hey kid, you've nothing to be ashamed of, she's a real babe." Whistler chuckled before turning serious. "Your relationship with Cordelia was a real turning point for her. From you she learnt tolerance, compassion and courage. Without you -."
The image changed to a crying Cordelia sat in a bathtub. Her face was bruised and her slashed wrists bleeding onto the tiled floor.
Pain lanced through Xander's heart. He longed to go to her and hug her but knew by now he couldn't do anything. "What happened?"
"Without you, she followed the stereotypical cheerleader route and married the captain of the football team. Unfortunately he turned out to be an abusive drunk and at age 22 she committed suicide."
"No Cordy," Xander took a step forward.
* * *
Only to stop when the setting changed again. This time they were in Sunnydale Hospital. The two of them watched as Xander prevented Angelus from getting to a weakened Buffy.
"Now that," admiration filled Whistler's voice, "was the bravest thing I ever saw."
"It was nothing," muttered Xander, his face flushed red.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
The picture changed to the school library. Angelus was stood in the centre of the room, his fangs tearing into Giles' throat while a vampire Buffy fed on a limp Willow. "Without you there that night, Angelus would have turned Buffy and they would have killed Giles, Willow and Joyce before leaving Sunnydale to create havoc across the entire U.S."
* * *
The scene shifted to the school basement, to the night when Xander had defused the bomb in the boiler room. "For a Zeppo you get around," commented Whistler dryly. "Here's what would have happened otherwise."
The image changed to a destroyed school. Out of its ruins came demons of every kind, slavering, hungry for human flesh. "You see," Whistler explained to a dumbfounded Xander, "by defusing the bomb you prevented the hellmouth from being blown open. If you hadn't been there not only would Buffy, Giles and the others died in the explosion, a portal to the hell dimensions would have been opened. End of mankind."
"Wow."
* * *
Xander blinked, he was back in the cemetery seated beside Whistler. The demon turned to him. "Kid you've done a lot of good. You taught Anaya about humanity. Hell, there was only you who could have stopped Willow from ending the world."
The young man glanced down at the gun in his hands. Before it had felt much lighter. "It's just so hard. I don't know what to do."
Whistler raised an eyebrow. "Still not convinced? Man, you're a hard sell. Let's take a look at your funeral."
* * * The surroundings changed to a cold, blustery day with heavy storm clouds above, outside a grimly gothic church - a setting appropriate for a funeral. After following Whistler into the church, Xander stopped in amazement. "Wow, there's a lot of people here."
"You were loved kid." Whistler moved up to the coffin at the chancel. "Let's look at these people shall we?" The demon strode over to a weeping Giles. "Look at Xander," he demanded. "This man looked on you as the son he never had. Now he feels weighed down with guilt wondering what he could have done differently to help you. From now on, he'll find his answer in a gin bottle."
Whistler moved over to a pale Willow. "So soon after losing her lover, she's lost her best friend. Her other friends tried to fill the gap but eventually she was committed to an insane asylum."
Tears filled Xander's eyes.
The demon moved over to the sobbing Summers sisters. "For Buffy your death was a catalyst. Your death devastated her, left her distracted and listless, an easy prey for a Scarta demon that killed her six weeks after you committed suicide. As for Dawn, without her sister and her big brother to look after her she ended dying eighteen months later of a drug overdose"
"I didn't want any of this to happen," muttered the young man brokenly.
"Next," Whistler stood beside a coldly expressionless Cordelia. "Your suicide devastated Cordelia. She thought that caring too much would cause her to eventually to do the same so she pulled back from her friends - Angel, Wes and the others. Eventually she became the aloof snob you once prevented her from becoming."
The demon made his way to the shadows at the back of the church. To Xander's surprise, Angel and Spike were stood together their faces even paler than usual. "Your deaths hit the two vampire surprisingly hard. They never realised what you meant to them until too late - you were like an annoying little brother to both vampires. Angel lost a little bit of humanity with your death, a process which was accelerated by Buffy's demise. Soon he ceased to care becoming Angelus again. Spike on the other hand started drinking, the night Buffy needed him the most he was too drunk to help."
Whistler turned to face the stunned youth. "Your death affected another person. Someone who couldn't make it here."
Xander turned to look at the massed congregation but although he could see a lot of people he wouldn't have expected to attend his funeral, he couldn't see anyone missing. "Who?"
The scene changed to a shadowy prison cell filled with the sound of heart- wrenching sobs. "Who's in there?" asked Xander.
"Why don't we find out?" Xander followed Whistler through the bars only to stop in surprise at the sight of the lithe brunette curled up crying on the bottom bunk. "Faith!"
"Yep," affirmed Whistler. "Angel just dropped by with the news."
"B..but," Xander stuttered, "Faith hardly noticed me when I was around. Hell, she nearly killed me!"
Whistler raised an eyebrow. "Thought you weren't bothered about living? Prison changed Faith - gave her time to think and reflect. She realised you were the only male her own age that didn't just treat her as a piece of meat, that actually tried to treat her as a person. When she got out of prison in 2004 she headed up to Sunnydale to see you and the others. You ended up in a relationship and were both happy for very many years. Without you, Faith ended up drifting from town to town, never finding the purpose that would redeem her."
* * *
Xander blinked. Once again he was back on graveyard bench, sat beside a resolute looking Whistler. "I can't force you to keep on living, but your friends need you. You might have a lousy family, you might never have got the girl you wanted and you might not have any special powers. You make a difference."
"You're wrong," whispered Xander.
"Sorry?"
"You're wrong," repeated the youth. "I have a great family - Willow, Buffy, Giles, Cordy - even the dead boys, they're my family." Looking down at his hands he passed the gun to Whistler. "I won't be needing this." Slowly he got to his feet and walked off.
Whistler glanced upwards. "Mission accomplished."
The End
The cemetery was empty except for a young man sitting on a worn bench. The youth was staring down at his lap, to the pistol he cradled in his hands. It was his father's gun but the young man knew that the old soak wouldn't notice its absence until too late. Slowly he raised the gun to his forehead.
"I really wouldn't do that."
The young man turned his tear-stained face to see a short figure in grey pants, a garish red shirt and brown bowler hat, stood behind him. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
The oddly dressed man dropped down on the bench beside the much taller youth. "Name's Whistler," replied the man. "We have a mutual friend."
"Really who?" Faint interest flickered across the young man's face.
"Angel."
"Oh just great, even when I try and kill myself, Dead Boy has to be involved," the youngster started to stand only to find himself pulled back down by a surprisingly strong Whistler.
"You know suicide's a really bad idea?" commented Whistler.
The youth shrugged his shoulders defiantly. "Seemed like a way out."
Whistler looked up to the heavens. "Why do I get all the easy assignments," muttered the balance demon before turning back to his companion. "So why kid? What's so bad a bullet's the only solution?"
"The name's Xander not kid!"
"Okay fine Xander, so what's the big problem?"
Xander turned a bitter face towards Whistler. "What business of yours is it anyway?"
Whistler's short temper exploded. "Listen Xander for whatever reason the Powers That Be have taken an interest in you. They don't want you adding some unplanned ventilation to your head - so humour me and talk!"
"Okay, okay," Xander muttered. "My life's always been pretty crappy. Mum and dad never gave a shit. I've made a mess of every relationship I've been in - Cordy and Anaya both hate me now. As for being a member of the Scooby gang - I'm the Zeppo, I just drag them down. I didn't notice what was going on with Willow until she nearly ended the world. They're better off without me."
"Whoa, serious self esteem issues. Look kid," Whistler pointedly ignored Xander's fierce glare, "I'm sensing a Jimmy Stewart moment coming up."
"What the-," Xander began to speak only for the world to disappear in a flash of light.
* * *
After blinking rapidly to clear his eyes, Xander realised his surroundings had changed to a children's kindergarten. "Where the hell are we?" he demanded heatedly.
"Why its lucky the children can't hear us, potty mouth," Whistler chided. "Just look and listened.
Xander reluctantly turned from the demon and to the scene before him. His jaw dropped open. "This is -."
"Just watch."
A three year old boy walked on unsteady legs to a little redheaded girl sat alone and separate from the other children. "Hello," said the boy carefully enunciating every word. "I'm Alexander Harris, do you want to be my friend?"
The little girl smiled and nodded. "My name's Willow Rosenberg, I like you."
"You remember that?"
Xander wiped away a tear. "Yeah, I do."
"Well here's what happened if you were never there."
The setting changed to a view that Xander knew well - Willow's bed room. A sight greeted the duo that caused Xander's heart to miss a beat and his mouth go dry. In the centre of the ceiling, her legs twitching horribly hung a sixteen year old Willow.
Instantly Xander leapt forward, reaching for his friend's swinging legs - only for his hands to pass right through her. His face twisted in anguish, Xander turned back to Whistler. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice hoarse with emotion.
"Your friendship was like an anchor to Willow. Without you and Jesse she was isolated at school, an easy target for Cordelia Chase and her Cordettes. Eventually the bullying caused this." Whistler pointed to the body.
Xander stumbled backwards, his head shaking. "No, no. I don't want to see any more."
Whistler looked at him sympathetically. "Sorry kid, nobody gets off this Magical Mystery Tour."
* * *
"Come on Buffy!" implored a teenaged Xander as he blew into her mouth.
"Remember this?" asked Whistler.
"I'd almost forgotten" Xander muttered.
"Well this was one of your finest moments."
"Saving Buffy." Xander nodded in understanding.
Whistler shook his head. "Actually, no. That was important but I'm talking about Angel."
Xander's forehead creased in puzzlement. "Angel?"
"You remember dragging him into the sewers?" prompted Whistler.
"Sure."
"That night you convinced him that he could make a difference. Without that night -" a score of image flashed in front of Xander. In each of them Angel was saving someone from a demon, "all these people would be dead," finished Whistler.
"Great, I helped Dead Boy -"
* * *
The scene changed again. Xander flushed in embarrassment as he watched the younger him kiss Cordelia for the first time. "Do we have to watch this?" he protested.
"Hey kid, you've nothing to be ashamed of, she's a real babe." Whistler chuckled before turning serious. "Your relationship with Cordelia was a real turning point for her. From you she learnt tolerance, compassion and courage. Without you -."
The image changed to a crying Cordelia sat in a bathtub. Her face was bruised and her slashed wrists bleeding onto the tiled floor.
Pain lanced through Xander's heart. He longed to go to her and hug her but knew by now he couldn't do anything. "What happened?"
"Without you, she followed the stereotypical cheerleader route and married the captain of the football team. Unfortunately he turned out to be an abusive drunk and at age 22 she committed suicide."
"No Cordy," Xander took a step forward.
* * *
Only to stop when the setting changed again. This time they were in Sunnydale Hospital. The two of them watched as Xander prevented Angelus from getting to a weakened Buffy.
"Now that," admiration filled Whistler's voice, "was the bravest thing I ever saw."
"It was nothing," muttered Xander, his face flushed red.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
The picture changed to the school library. Angelus was stood in the centre of the room, his fangs tearing into Giles' throat while a vampire Buffy fed on a limp Willow. "Without you there that night, Angelus would have turned Buffy and they would have killed Giles, Willow and Joyce before leaving Sunnydale to create havoc across the entire U.S."
* * *
The scene shifted to the school basement, to the night when Xander had defused the bomb in the boiler room. "For a Zeppo you get around," commented Whistler dryly. "Here's what would have happened otherwise."
The image changed to a destroyed school. Out of its ruins came demons of every kind, slavering, hungry for human flesh. "You see," Whistler explained to a dumbfounded Xander, "by defusing the bomb you prevented the hellmouth from being blown open. If you hadn't been there not only would Buffy, Giles and the others died in the explosion, a portal to the hell dimensions would have been opened. End of mankind."
"Wow."
* * *
Xander blinked, he was back in the cemetery seated beside Whistler. The demon turned to him. "Kid you've done a lot of good. You taught Anaya about humanity. Hell, there was only you who could have stopped Willow from ending the world."
The young man glanced down at the gun in his hands. Before it had felt much lighter. "It's just so hard. I don't know what to do."
Whistler raised an eyebrow. "Still not convinced? Man, you're a hard sell. Let's take a look at your funeral."
* * * The surroundings changed to a cold, blustery day with heavy storm clouds above, outside a grimly gothic church - a setting appropriate for a funeral. After following Whistler into the church, Xander stopped in amazement. "Wow, there's a lot of people here."
"You were loved kid." Whistler moved up to the coffin at the chancel. "Let's look at these people shall we?" The demon strode over to a weeping Giles. "Look at Xander," he demanded. "This man looked on you as the son he never had. Now he feels weighed down with guilt wondering what he could have done differently to help you. From now on, he'll find his answer in a gin bottle."
Whistler moved over to a pale Willow. "So soon after losing her lover, she's lost her best friend. Her other friends tried to fill the gap but eventually she was committed to an insane asylum."
Tears filled Xander's eyes.
The demon moved over to the sobbing Summers sisters. "For Buffy your death was a catalyst. Your death devastated her, left her distracted and listless, an easy prey for a Scarta demon that killed her six weeks after you committed suicide. As for Dawn, without her sister and her big brother to look after her she ended dying eighteen months later of a drug overdose"
"I didn't want any of this to happen," muttered the young man brokenly.
"Next," Whistler stood beside a coldly expressionless Cordelia. "Your suicide devastated Cordelia. She thought that caring too much would cause her to eventually to do the same so she pulled back from her friends - Angel, Wes and the others. Eventually she became the aloof snob you once prevented her from becoming."
The demon made his way to the shadows at the back of the church. To Xander's surprise, Angel and Spike were stood together their faces even paler than usual. "Your deaths hit the two vampire surprisingly hard. They never realised what you meant to them until too late - you were like an annoying little brother to both vampires. Angel lost a little bit of humanity with your death, a process which was accelerated by Buffy's demise. Soon he ceased to care becoming Angelus again. Spike on the other hand started drinking, the night Buffy needed him the most he was too drunk to help."
Whistler turned to face the stunned youth. "Your death affected another person. Someone who couldn't make it here."
Xander turned to look at the massed congregation but although he could see a lot of people he wouldn't have expected to attend his funeral, he couldn't see anyone missing. "Who?"
The scene changed to a shadowy prison cell filled with the sound of heart- wrenching sobs. "Who's in there?" asked Xander.
"Why don't we find out?" Xander followed Whistler through the bars only to stop in surprise at the sight of the lithe brunette curled up crying on the bottom bunk. "Faith!"
"Yep," affirmed Whistler. "Angel just dropped by with the news."
"B..but," Xander stuttered, "Faith hardly noticed me when I was around. Hell, she nearly killed me!"
Whistler raised an eyebrow. "Thought you weren't bothered about living? Prison changed Faith - gave her time to think and reflect. She realised you were the only male her own age that didn't just treat her as a piece of meat, that actually tried to treat her as a person. When she got out of prison in 2004 she headed up to Sunnydale to see you and the others. You ended up in a relationship and were both happy for very many years. Without you, Faith ended up drifting from town to town, never finding the purpose that would redeem her."
* * *
Xander blinked. Once again he was back on graveyard bench, sat beside a resolute looking Whistler. "I can't force you to keep on living, but your friends need you. You might have a lousy family, you might never have got the girl you wanted and you might not have any special powers. You make a difference."
"You're wrong," whispered Xander.
"Sorry?"
"You're wrong," repeated the youth. "I have a great family - Willow, Buffy, Giles, Cordy - even the dead boys, they're my family." Looking down at his hands he passed the gun to Whistler. "I won't be needing this." Slowly he got to his feet and walked off.
Whistler glanced upwards. "Mission accomplished."
The End