Tuesday
Xander ignored the slow murmur of voices surrounding him and concentrated on the dull, grey window and the passing black and wispy scenery. Trying to drown out the voice in his head with nothingness. He couldn't think, couldn't let him self remember the look. The look of dis . . . he wouldn't think about it. It was time for Xander to take care of himself. No one can love me, he thought and who can blame them.
If I don't know who I am, if I hate myself, if I don't think I'm worthy - I can't keep holding out hope that one day - he's going to love me. Spike, he cried silently, tears clumping his lashes, making his nose stuffy, and burning his cheeks. Why did I expect you to be kind - I knew you would never love me, but I thought you could forgive me for loving you. I never expected you to laugh, and I never expected you to spit on me and call me unnatural.
Unnatural - maybe I am. Maybe I am. But I am not the only one. And I am damned if I am going to stay here any longer and be everyone's favorite chew toy.
I won't be the one everyone laughs at - where's my vengeance demon to grant my wish? Oh, yeah - I am not feminine enough for her. And I'm not feminine enough for you, Spike. Xander thought bitterly and laughed out loud hysterically, causing the drunk next to him on the Greyhound bus to startle.
"If I had been a woman, I bet they wouldn't have treated me this way!" he whispered huskily. "Spike would want me! I wish, oh it's silly to wish that I was a woman!"
The drunk beside him shuddered and the bus started to shake. "Wish granted," the drunk laughed as his face metamorphosed into a demon.