Xander s parents fought.
Frequently.
It didn t bother little Xander that much back then. After all, they d always been that way, and even before he knew what sober and drunk meant, he knew he had rarely, if ever, seen the former in either of his parents. The screaming and the stumbling were just a part of his life. He avoided it the best he could, away in his room either by choice or because his mom sent him away from the most recent fight.
It wasn t until Xander was seven that it got to him. At Thanksgiving, his thirteen-year-old cousin explained to him what the adults were all drinking. At seven, Xander couldn t see the point of it, though his cousin seemed eager to be old enough to take part. Shrugging it off, Xander went back to doing what he did best: being a little kid. Since that night, he d begun to notice that the more his parents drank, the more they fought. The more they fought, the angrier they got. Not just at each other, but at everything. At the world, at the state, at the city, at their families, at the dog, at Xander.
Christmas was always the worst. He d known that longer than he could remember. It was always about money and not getting the right presents and how no one ever managed to get the Christmas decorations out. Normally, Xander tuned it out, but this year, he couldn t. He d been thinking about it all, trying to figure out why they acted like that.
That s how his annual tradition, the backyard Christmas campout, began.
He really just wanted out of the house, but in the middle of the night, a seven year old couldn t go any further than his own backyard. He snuck past his parents, tiptoeing even though he knew that they were so far gone that they would never notice. All he had with him was a blanket, a pillow, a flashlight, and a comic book.
It was the first comic book he d ever read. He doesn t even remember what it was anymore, but he knows what it did. That s when he realized fiction was somewhere to hide. He could read a comic and go on an adventure. He wasn t stuck trying to ignore his parents yelling through his bedroom wall; he was helping Spider-Man save New York, Batman save Gotham, and Superman save Metropolis.
When Xander was eight, he got a television in his room for the first time. From there, he moved further than the one comic he could buy each week with the allowance he either was given or had stolen from his mother s purse because his parents forgot him. He started watching Star Trek.
His memories of being eight aren t the best, but he knew that the first time he saw the Best of Both Worlds, Part I was the first time that he completely tuned out his parents. They fought that night, more than Xander had ever heard them fight, but he didn t listen or care. He was entranced, learning about the Borg as Commander Riker and the crew learned about the Borg, and when the hour was over, Xander Harris became the only little kid in Sunnydale who wanted September to come.
He had to know how it came out. It didn t matter to him what his parents did in the other room while they tossed back whiskey as long as he found out what happened.
And so began Xander s life of avoidance.
From age seven to fifteen, Xander hid in fiction. He read comics and books, watched movies and television, played arcade games with spare quarters because his parents spent money on liqour, not video games. When the fighting got worse, he read faster. When the drinking increased, he watched another episode.
At fifteen, it all became real. That s when he met Buffy Summers. One of his best friends became a vampire, and Xander was thrust into a fantasy world. A young person with superpowers, a wise elder, and a collection of friends to help. Not an unknown story to Xander, but now he was living it.
Now that s where he hid.
He spent the last several years he lived in his parents house hiding the same way he had as a kid, but instead of watching characters fight for their lives, he fought for his life. He had helped save the world more times than he could count. He didn t know what he would do if this fantasy of a reality ever stopped.
Not that it was the only reason that he helped. The Scoobies were more of a family to him than his own had ever been, replacing characters on screens and pages that had been his family for so long. No. He loved them all, Anya and Willow and Buffy and Giles and Dawn. Everyone.
Well, except Spike. Love was not an emotion Xander thought he would ever muster for Spike.
That s why it hurt. That s why it bothered him. When Anya sang about Xander hiding behind Buffy, it stung more than anything else she sang.
Because it was true.
He did hide behind Buffy, and Anya was part of the world he hid behind.
He wasn t sure if he'd know how to deal with Anya, an ex-demon and a woman he loved so much, if that shield was taken away. If the world wasn t always in danger.
He didn t know how he would react. If he could handle it.
He didn t know.