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Childhood - Xander

Summer, 1989. Jesse, Willow, and Xander perched on park benches, ice cream cones melting all over their hands, having the deep, important conversations eight-year-olds have.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be a superhero."

Jesse and Willow look at Xander, their eyes showing the doubtful support best friends are required to give a clueless best friend. Willow smiles her Willow-smile that she'll have for the rest of her life, "That's good, Xan. Who will you save?"

"You, of course."

"What about me?" Jesses demands, a kid unaware of how short his life's going to be. He'll never grow up to become a superhero like Xander. He'll become the thing the superhero kills. And Xander isn't the superhero, but he gets to do the honors.

"You can be my partner." Xander replies, "We can both be superheros."

"Why can't I be one?"

Now the doubtful-supportive eyes are on her and Jesse speaks up, "You're a girl."

"So?"

Xander shrugs, "So all the girl superheroes are lame."

"Superwoman is NOT lame!"

"Well..." Jesse searches for something to say, then, "Xander, are you awake? Xander?"

He wakes up with a start, and nearly hits Giles in the head with a flying arm. "Wh--wha?"

March, 2003. Xander Harris is sleeping the sleep of a twenty two year old man who is older than he should be, and feels even older than that. He blinks up at Giles, "What?"

"Do you need anything? I'm getting up."

"No..."

Xander watches Giles. Father figure extraordinaire. Broken father figure, the favored child is gone again. Xander almost feels bad for thinking that bitter thought, but chases away the guilt with another. I wonder if he sticks around this time.

But then again, will Xander stick around this time? Will he really stay in the town of his fractured childhood now that it's half destroyed? Four deaths in three years is a bit much. And when he counts up all the deaths that have ammounted in seven...well.

Anya isn't leaning on him, anymore, he notices. He fights the urge to reach out, touch her hand, something, because he's not letting himself be comforted today. A sick game he plays with himself, has played since he was little, maybe eight or nine years old. Let's see how long Xander can suffer in silence.

1988-95, how long can Xander listent the the screaming outside his bedroom before her calls Willow and runs to the Rosenberg home to escape his parents' drunken fighting that will eventually be channeled on him?

1995-97, how long can Xander be the expendable donut boy? Can her survive one night alone and pathetic without running into certain dark-haired Slayers whose motel room suddenly becomes a new fantasy setting? Apparently not.

1997-2002, can Xander deal without letting anyone see, without punching in a perfectly good wall, without letting Anya see him cry?

And now, he's determined. He can do this. He's a grown up now...right?