Title: From the quiet of eternity

Authour: Socrates

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and the other evil one's own Buffy, although
from the way they keep messing things up, they certainly don't
deserve it.

Category: Story/Angst/romance

Rating: PG-13(warning: mature themes. suicide and chronic depression.
Not for the timid.

Summary: Things go a little bit different in 'The gift'.

Distribution: Please let me know where it is going.

Feedback: It would be much appreciated.

Author's notes: I decided to do something to try and get my mind off
all the BS doom and gloom, and remembered something I saw on TV that
gave me an idea for a story. You'll be surprised to know that this
whole story comes from a single picture. Confused yet? I'll explain
as I go along. Keep in mind that this is a very dark story. I don't
intend to let any sunshine in for a while. This is more or less how I
feel that Xander really feels and it is one of the reasons why I get
upset that they ignore him so much.

Author's notes part two: This is my way of apology to the group for
being such a jerk lately. I was just upset with the way things are
going. I apologize if I offended anyone, particularly the BX fans who
also like BS, and I hope that this in some small way makes up for my
actions.



part 1




The ice cold water lapped gently at the edge of the ice-berg as it
floated slowly across the frozen waters. The picturesqe landscape
seemed fit for some book that might have once been written by a long
dead author. The entire are held an air of quiet serenity that seemed
entirely out of place for the scene.

At the edge of the largest ice-berg, sat a solitary figure. His dark
hair whipped gently by the cold wind, like the caress of a loved one.
His eyes fized straight ahead, seeing nothing, and yet at the same
time perceiving things that men an women strive their entire lives to
know.

Despite the temperature, he felt no cold. For the first time in his
life her felt no sadness, no sense of loss, of worthlessnes. For the
first time in his life, Xander felt at peace.

This was the type of piece that could not be truly described, so all
encompasing was the feeling. It felt as if he was the quiet and the
quite was him, like a symbiotic bonding had taken place so that they
were so entwined that one could not determine where one ended and the
other began.

He wanted for nothing, he desired nothing, he felt nothing except
contentment.

He had been sitting there like that since he first go there, wherever
there was. He didn't really care to find out, he didn't care about
anything at all. Not his family, or his friends, nothing. In fact if
he could have it his way, he would have sat there for the rest of
eternity, basking in the feelings of utter contentment. He was quite
content to do just that, after all, he was dead.

If he could remember such things, he would have recalled the incident
himself. It was the final battle with Glory. Buffy was busy fighting
the god, and Willow had sent Spike up to rescue Dawn.

He had placed a soft kiss on Anya's forehead, told her how much he
loved her, then he set off after Spike. He had known exactly what
awaited him, he supposed he'd always known that this was how he would
die. After all, his name did mean 'protector of mankind'. It was like
this feeling in the back of his head, a profound understanding of his
role in the world. He was meant to die so that others could live. The
knowledge didn't bring him any sadness, in fact it brought a joy to
his heart to know that he would be able to help others, that those
more important would be able to carry on the fight because he had
placed himself in the line of fire. He felt no pride about it either,
Xander was not a prideful man. He simply did what he could to help.
He was not the slayer, nor the Witch or The Watcher. Not the vampire
with a soul, or the one without. He was not the key. Xander did not
have any powers and he would have refused them had they been offered.
He was the normal guy who did the normal things so that the others
could take care of the big problems. It had taken a long time, but he
was content with that role.

To be honest, Xander knew that he would glady welcome the peace and
quiet that would accompany death. He never told anyone, even Anya of
the times that he had woken up in the middle of the night crying for
no reason. He couldn't really put a finger on why he felt the
sadness. He supposed it was a number of things, stemming from his
parents lack of love, to the bouts of abuse, Buffy's callous
treatment of his feelings. The feelings of abandonment suffered at
the end of high school and when Buffy and Willow had started college.
All the twisted and jagged pieces of his life that came together in
such an irregular fashion that they were crushing his heart and soul.
He could feel it all the time, like scar tissue was covering his
heart and some times it hurt to breath. Moments of happiness were the
worst though, because for those brief moments, he forgot about the
pain in his heart and he could actually be at peace. Then, the moment
would end and the pain would come back in a rush and he would find
himself gasping for breath to fill his burning lungs. It was like his
head had been held underwater until he almost passed out.

He knew what the pain was too, he had tried to deny it but the simple
truth was inescapable. It was depression. It was why there were
mornings that he would wake up and feel this overwhelming surge of
sadness that he couldn't explain. He tried to ignore it, to be
evryone's loveable Xander, the guy without a care in the world. The
truth was though, he wasn't everyone's loveable Xander. He never had
been really. It was all just a clever front that he put up so people
wouldn't see the real him. He had never dropped that front for
anyone, not even Willow. He knew that she wouldn't understand, she
couldn't. After all, HE couldn't understand it himself. It was just
one of those things that he had learned at a young age. You had to
act like you were happy or people would think there was something was
wrong with you.

Xander had once tried to be himself when he was young. He was in
school and the teacher noticed that he was feeling abit down. Xander
tried to open up to him. The kind man had called Xander'a father and
he had come over to the school. Xander had a tearful scene with his
father in front of the teacher.

When he got home his father beat him half to death with a baseball
bat. Xander learned after that that being yourself was not a good
thing.

Over the years he had gotten so good at fooling everyone that he had
almost fooled himself, almost.

There were times where he actually believed that he WAS goofy old
Xander. They never lasted very long. Someone would say something
about him, not meaning to insult but it had that effect. The reality
of the situation would come pouring in and once again he would slip
into the trusted act.

He thought about ending it sometimes, even now. He would never tell
anyone that because they would have him commited. It would be so easy
to do it, just take some pills and go to sleep and he would never
wake up, never have to feel the anger or the fear. It would all just
go away like a bad dream. There was one reason that he didn't though,
his friends. He had made up his mind that he would do all he could to
help them until his dying day.

So he stayed and he fought, never telling them the truth because he
didn't want to distract them. Dying inside just a little each day,
but on the outside looking like the same goofy Xander.

It was safe to say that Xander Harris did not fear death. In fact, he
welcomed it.

So, Xander charged heroically up the platform staris to meet his fate.

He had found Spike struggling with the fellow from the shop that he
had run through with a sword the other day. Throwing caution to the
wind, he had rushed forward and pulled Doc off the vampire. He
motioned for him to take care of Dawn while he handled the demon.
Spike gave him a brief look, but hurried over to Dawn and freed her
while Xander kept Doc occupied.

Dawn caught Xander's eye and knew what he was intending. She
struggled against Spike while screaming at Xander to not do it.

"Get her the hell out of here Spike!" He had commanded and Spike had
hastily obliged.

"Its just you and me asshole!"

Doc had just smiled at him, "So it is."

Xander had charged at him and bowled him over with a tackle. They
went down in a tangle of limbs and Xander struggled to get free. A
moment later, a curious sensation emanated from his stomach as Doc
shoved a knife into his belly. It hadn't really hurt like he thought
it would. In fact, it has sorta tickled and he might have actually
laughed if he had been coherent enough.

He had felt the strength rapidly leaving his body as Doc twisted the
knife and dragged it slowly across his stomach and up his chest.

By the time the knife reached his heart, he was in no condtition to
feel anything as his soul left his body behind.

He hovered in the air for a few minutes, watching in fascination as
Buffy ascended the last step and found his body there. She let out a
soul shattering scream and proceeded to beat Doc silly before she
tosssed him off the platform.

The last sight he had of the world was watching Buffy clutch his body
to her chest and rock back and forth as his life's blood spilled onto
her clothes.

Right after thatm he found himself here, and it was such a natural
feeling that he would have disputed it if someone had told him that
he hadn't always been here. As far as he knew he had. He couldn't
remember anything before this and he had no desire to try. As strange
as it might seem, this was the most peaceful place he could be.

Then it was all ripped from him, literally. He felt a curious
sensation, like someone was trying to grab hold of his insides. At
first he found the sensation quite amusing, then there was a pull and
it felt as if someone was trying to yank his insides out. He felt his
connection to this place began to slip and it felt like he was being
ripped apart. He tried to fight it, but the sensations of pain that
he had forgotten about returned full force as he was ripped from this
existance and thrust into the harsh light.




When he could feel again, it was quite different than before. The
feelings of peace were gone and in their place was all the pain and
suffering that he had left behind. He knew exactly what had happened,
like one who is dreaming and is suddenly thrust back to the waking
world.

He was alive.

He fought the urge to vomit as he slowly opened his eyes and the
light burned them. He closed them again and felt the pain pass. As
his ears slowly began to function again he could discern voices
around him. It was them. The people he never wanted to see again.

He opened his eyes again and looked up at the teary eyes of the blond
who knelt over him.

"Buffy?"

"Welcome home Xander."



End part 1