Untitled Document

"Nothing As It Seems"
Episode: #3 - "Father Of Mine"


Author: RockyD
E-mail: dollen@frontiernet.net
Category: A/X, B/X and delusional B/S
Rating: PG-14 (nothing worse than the show)
Summary: A couple more weeks after "End It On This". Reeling from Anya's death, Xander foolishly goes to his family to seek comfort. It serves to only drive him deeper into his depression.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, they belong to Joss
Whedon and Co. The only thing I lay claim to is the excruciating torture I put them through... and I'm sure they love me for it.
Author's Note: When plot bunnies attack. Watching the rerun of "Intervention", and got a twisted little idea about how to use something.
Author's Note #2: For reference, the series title The episode title is a song by Everclear. *salute* That is all.
Feedback: YES! I desperately need it, like an addiction. It would be appreciated.


*FADE TO: The ominous Harris household, exterior, early evening. Xander stands before it, looking like a lost child.*

He had always hated the place. Always. At least as long as he'd had the capacity to hate anything. He had always been treated as a mistake. Something that went wrong, but which couldn't be fixed. Even more, he hated to come back. It was like voluntarily locking yourself back in prison with Bubba, the guy you feared in the shower.

He could hear the arguing already, even standing as far out as the sidewalk. It was a wonder no one had ever filed a complaint for disturbing the peace, but then again, the SDPD wasn't exactly known for its efficiency.

He nervously made his way up the front steps. Taking each step so cautiously, one would think he was making his way through a mine field, he went up the walk.
Every uncomfortable childhood memory played itself out for him during the seemingly endless trek up the concrete paving, in living, painful color. The drinking, the yelling, the abandonment, and especially the violence. He nearly flinched involuntarily as a particularly vicious blow was landed on his past self in his mind's eye.

Each knock he laid on the door... well, was like a nightmare come true. But it wasn't until the door was actually answered, by his shivering, bruised mother, that his nightmare really began. She looked at him with such a pure and unbidden fear, that his heart nearly shattered. She may never have been the most caring mother, but even she didn't deserve such treatment.

Her voice was merely a whisper, "Alexander," but it was enough to catch his father's attention. He roared, grabbing his mother's shoulder and shoving her out of the way; roughly to the floor. He looked at Xander with an equal amount of rage as his mother had fear.

"So, the useless buffoon who couldn't get out of here fast enough comes back. What's wrong, boy, here to ask for money?" Xander could smell the alcohol from where he was standing outside. He had hoped, pointlessly as he knew alcohol was in his father's system all the time, that he might be able to get through this in a civil manner.

"No, dad, I came to talk." The laugh that came out of his father made him flinch.

"What the hell do you have to say that I should even care about?" His voice was hoarse from laughing so hard.

"I came to talk to you about Anya..." He paused, trying to regulate his breath as he spoke the name, "Anya Emerson. T-the girl who came to see me here at the house before I moved out." He could barely keep the emotions in check that her memory brought. Unfortunately, the little bit he let slip was enough for his father to recognize, and he jumped at the opportunity to cause the young man pain.

"What's wrong, boy? Did the stupid bitch leave you?" There was amusement in his voice.

If it weren't for the screen door between them, Xander was sure he'd have hit the man that instant. Suppressing the anger he wished to unleash, he simply balled his fist and gritted his teeth as he answered, "No *dad,* she died."

His father took a big swig from his bottle, and looked at his son disinterestedly, "So?" The man had barely the time to blink before the screen between him and his son split apart, and the young man's hands were on him. His bottle went flying into the front yard, shattering instantly, and a strong hand pulled him forward by his collar, as close as he could get without being pulled through the screen door.

"Listen here *dad.* You need to be glad I'm not interested in making a scene right now. If I ever hear you badmouth Anya, or hear *about* you badmouthing Anya... I swear to God I'll make what you put me through all those years look like a walk in the park, you hear me?" He didn't even wait for a response before tossing the man backward into the house. He looked at him with deep sorrow, "I came here today, hoping we could be civil and talk like a real family. But I didn't even make it over the threshold before you saw fit to make me feel stupid again. I should have known I wouldn't find my real family in this house. Goodbye, Mom."

He turned around and stalked back down the walk towards his car. He mumbled to himself as he went, "Should have known better than to expect sympathy here."

*CUT TO: The Magic Box, early evening. Giles is attending to the shop on his own.*

He handed the money to the customer, giving them a warm smile, "Thank you for shopping The Magic Box." When the person left, he went about locking the doors and starting to restock.

He'd gotten pretty involved in the process, when there was a loud knock on the door. Not used to getting visitors this late, unless one of the members of their supernatural circle called in advanced, Giles grabbed a small axe from off the wall and proceeded cautiously towards the front.

He was more than a little surprised to find Xander standing outside in the slightly chilly weather. Or perhaps his shivering was from another cause. He stepped through quickly, not waiting for an invitation, and went to sit by the round table.

Giles approached him with concern, "Xander, is there something wrong?"

Xander looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "That how you greet all your guests?"

Giles glanced towards his hand, still brandishing the axe in a semi-defensive posture. He quickly lowered it, "Yes, err, no... *is* there something wrong?"

Xander let out a heavy, ragged sigh, "I... I didn't have anywhere else to go, Giles."

The look of anguish on the young man's face moved Giles to pulling up a chair and sitting nearby, "Are you all right, Xander?"

Xander was looking at the ground, furiously fighting back something he didn't seem to want to let go of. As he looked up, Giles had to suppress a gasp when he saw the boy was crying quietly. Unsure of what to do, Giles did the same thing he would have if it were Buffy here with him. He extended a comforting arm around the young man's shoulders, and simply supported him through the silent sobbing.

When Xander had regained enough composure to speak, his breathing was labored and broken by the occasional sniffle, "I don't think I've really, properly mourned... Anya, yet. I wanted to be 'supporto guy' for everybody else, just like I always *try* to be... but I just can't take it anymore, Giles, it's killing me."

Giles looked at the person before him, and couldn't help but feel for him. He tried to advise him as best as he could, "Xander, you should *not* feel you have to put up a brave face in front of us... we are all here for you, just like you are for us. Anya's death is hardest on you, and holding that in like you have, can only lead to hurting more in the long run."

Xander was amazed by the look Giles was giving him. One of fatherly concern. He would never have imagined the once stuffy Britishman would ever be considered a father in his view, but that's just what he'd become. He sighed deeply again, "I know... We've got a tightly knit group here... I was just scared it would all fall apart if I fell through... I didn't want to disappoint you guys... Especially not with my personal problems." He looked back down at the ground in defeat.

Giles pulled his face back up, "Xander... it's just as personal for us as it was for you..." He paused, "Well, yes, maybe not as quite... but Anya was special to us all... you can hardly be blamed for wanting to break down, such a thing would never disappoint us. It would only make us prouder of your humanity."

"How do I do it, Giles? How do I go on when everything around me reminds me of her? Even this place. How did you manage it with J..." He stopped immediately, scared to say the name for fear of causing Giles pain.

Giles saw and admired the gesture, "Jenny. You *are* allowed to say her name, Xander. She's still very much a part of my life, but I no longer cringe at her mention. I survived, because you all rallied around me and gave me strength." He leaned in, as if to share a big secret, "I admit your defense of her honor in the time of Angelus was not lost on me, young man."

His eyes brightened a little, though not to the point of causing a smile, "I was just..."

Giles did smile slightly, "I know, Xander, you were being you. And I am forever thankful." He laid a hand on the young man's shoulder, "I imagine it will be the same for you, given time. The wounds may hurt immensely right now, but I assure you, they will heal."

"I know, time heals all wounds... but what happens if the very surroundings are like salt in them at the same time? The apartment is driving me insane, and this place is almost as painful. What do I do then?"

Giles thought about this for several moments, leaning back in his chair. After a while, he pulled his glasses off and cleaned them. Before replacing them on his face, he began, "Bear with me... have you considered taking a... vacation, of sorts? Time away from these painful surroundings to get your bearings back and begin the healing process?" He had put his glasses back on and was staring at Xander intently, "I don't suggest it as an alternative to the nurturing your friends here can provide... but it's possible it could help the healing process by giving you some breathing room."

Xander took his turn thinking, leaning back and forth in the chair as he did. Giles had begun to worry that he'd been lost somewhere else, when the young man responded, "I like the idea, Rupert." He was unaware of his slip, but Giles didn't correct (or uncorrect) him. "I think I know just the place to go... and I don't think I'd have to sacrifice that nurturing bit you spoke about... It... it's going to be tough, I won't delude myself about that.. and it'll take some planning... but I think I can do it."

Giles smiled genuinely at the boy's rise in enthusiasm. He did feel like questioning, though, "Care to enlighten me as to where you'll go?"

Xander shook his head immediately, "Not right now. It needs to be *my* place for now, y'know? But I can promise to call you with personal updates about how I'm doing from time to time... I wouldn't want you guys worrying about me too much."

He stood up, and Giles followed suit, "Do be careful, Xander. I know Buffy would never forgive me if something should happen to you and she found out I was involved somehow."

Xander was slightly startled by the statement, but shook it off, "I'll be extra careful, Giles. I suppose you already figured I'm leaving ASAP... it'll be better that way. But I'll be back, make sure you tell them that."

Giles nodded and prepared to shake his hand, when the young man seized him in a powerful hug. Startled and surprised, Giles quickly recovered and returned the strength of the hug.

Xander looked at him very strangely, which the Watcher planned to question him on, until he spoke up, "I really appreciate this, Rupert Giles. You have no idea how much. And I hope someday that I can repay you for it." He pulled the man into another hug, before heading for the door.

Xander turned around and smiled, almost reaching all the way to his eyes, as he commented on his way out, "Don't go getting all stuffy and stogy again while I'm gone, Rupert Giles."

Giles couldn't help but laugh as the bell on the door tinkled and the door itself clicked shut.

*CUT TO: A tree within visual distance of Anya Emerson's headstone. It's slightly dark out, but from where Xander is leaning against the tree, he can still see it easily from the small candle lit next to it.*

He sat in the dark silence, going over his plans in his head as many times as he could. He was still collecting all his scattered strength and bravery to actually pull this off. It was a big step.

Inevitably, he heard the branch snap. He seriously hoped it was who he thought it was. He wasn't in the mood to deal with anything but.

Several moments of silence passed before she spoke, "It's really dangerous to be out this late, Xander. Especially here."

"I am capable of taking care of myself, Buff."

She stepped beside him, looking at the candlelight, "I didn't say you weren't. I just want you to be careful." Minutes passed with no reply, so she spoke again, "I was a little afraid that you were doing something stu... something all Romeo and Juliet. Sitting around and waiting for a vamp to come along and..." She couldn't finish the thought.

He let out a small, humorless laugh, "That would be pretty stupid, wouldn't it? My luck, I'd end up more than a midnight snack. I'd find myself on the wrong end of Mr. Pointy cause I'd be like Jesse."

"We need you around here, Xander. We want to help you recover from this. Not forget. Never forget. We'll all be here for you. I'll be here for you, whenever you need it."

He winced visibly. He didn't know how to break this, especially to her. He gathered his strength and just said it, "No, you won't, Buff." She looked at him questioningly, "Because I'm not going to be around."

She frowned, deeply. It almost surprised him as she asked, "Xander, you're not going to ki..."

He shook his head strongly, "I'm not that crazy, Buffy. I'm going leaving town for awhile. Not really sure how long."

"Xander, your life is here... where are you going to go?" There was more concern in her voice than anything else. He knew not to take the statement as any form of insult.

He was torn over whether to tell her or not. He didn't see anything wrong with just telling her, but he didn't want her to interfere in what he had to do. In the end, she won out like she always did, "Los Angeles. I, uh, know someone there that I can stay with. I need to be away from this damn town long enough to heal this gaping wound in my chest... then I'll think about coming back."

She sat there, her mouth agape with shock, before she spoke, "You're just going to up and leave?" A nod was his only reply. A thousand thoughts ran through her head, most of which she didn't bother dignifying with a second turn. She didn't know what to say. She didn't need to, as Xander began walking away. She caught up with him, "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving... right now. Otherwise I'm going to lose my nerve and it'll be impossible to leave you... guys." The pause wasn't lost on her, but she was too stunned to respond. He was walking towards his car, right there, leaving Sunnydale perhaps forever. He opened his car door, noticing her pursuit had stopped about the same time as his last statement. He looked at her for a few moments, as if to memorize what she looked like, and spoke, "Tell them what I told you. I just need time. I'll call the Magic Box when I get *there*... so you know I'm okay."

Without another word, he slammed the door. On the cemetery. On Sunnydale. On Buffy.