A/N: Ok so you know what I realised Xander has only had about four lines in this story so this chapter is for him! YAY TWC stands for the watchers council.
Chapter nineteen; we frolicked in daffodils once.
"A man upon his demise,
once walked with roses,
now sleeps with flies.
His head face-down
and cold-staring eyes,
hold back the truth
and only show his disguise.
Feeling unloved in his life
turned to cocktails and lies
brushing off the occasional family member
and holding the act of being shy.
Now his truth is out
and we all feel his pain.
For under the discomposure
his soul leaves for the sky
It started off as a habit
turned into a lifestyle
turned into a disease
turned into a death.
No amount of words bring him back
but they only add to the tragedy of his life.
For he had it all
departed it
and died over it
with a shot of vodka.
A man upon his demise,
once walked with roses,
now sleeps with flies."
Xander was perched on the branches of his mind, muddled by alcohol, ready to fall. He sat on a crate, with the sun turned out only the light of a million fire works to illuminate his vodka bottle.
White frost breath rose up in chills, around his face; his friends were holding sparklers writing their names in the night sky. "Hampstead Heath" stood high above London it had the perfect view of the city's many fireworks and bonfires, they had come up there for a quiet Bonfire Night, but still scattered groups of people filled the hill.
He took a large bitter swig from the cold bottle; the windy air was making his drink even stronger, just how his father had liked it. The doom filled times had started to burden Xander; he felt the weight of this war more so than ever before. He wanted to blame Angel and Spike but didn't no what for.
They had stayed away tonight keeping to the shadows of London streets, Giles was absent as well, he had been leaving the country more and more on trips to TWC in other continents. The shrill cries of his friends wafted over to him but his befuddled mind could not make any distinctions between sounds.
Xander turned away from the light and settled for darkness, where he belonged.
Willow put down her steadily blazing sparkler and looked over to her life long friend, once a joyous, geeky teenager on a skateboard, now a lonely, depressed adult sitting on a plastic crate.
She felt a stab of déjà-vu seeing him like that, he reminded her so much of his father, sitting drunk on a lopsided stool. Willow couldn't let Xander turn into his dad no matter how hard everything was she couldn't loose her best friend.
"Hay Wills you ok?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah I'm just worried about Xander, he doesn't seem all that high on the fun fireworks type thing," Willow replied grimacing.
"Don't worry I'm sure his just having an off night."
"I hope you're right."
The great hall seemed to be compressing Ron somehow, he felt sick just looking at the Gryffindor table a block of red and gold rosettes, and scarf's. Today was the day of Gryffindors first match of the season against Slytherin.
Harry was standing next to him eyeing Ginny up discreetly; the whole team was sitting at the table beckoning them over. Ron didn't have the stomach to eat. So he turned to Harry with a pleading look on his face, but Harry had already sat himself next to Ginny.
"Ron mate you coming you gotta eat something," Harry said. Ron just ambled over to them with a look of trounce on his face.
Harry was glad Ginny and Ron had made up a few weeks after Halloween, because it would have really affected the team today if they hadn't. He also was glad that Ron now new what Ginny was like, so maybe he would let Harry make a pass at her.
"Hay Harry man, I think we should get onto the pitch now," said new beater Deon.
"Yeah, will you round every one up?" He asked.
000
The Gryffindor team was soon assembled at the doorway to the Quidditch pitch, bracing themselves before entering to tumultuous applause and boos.
"Captains shake hands," Madame Pince said primly. Harry and the new Slytherin captain Marcus Master-mate, gripped hands tightly. Marcus was a scrawny boy with sharp pointed teeth, a spotty complextion and his brown hair was cut into a neat pudding bowl shape.
"1.2…3!" Madame Pince blew her whistle and the two teams sped into the air with a cry from the crowd.
Ginny flew up until she was centred in the middle of the pitch with perfect access to both sides. Her ponytail was blowing round her face portentously, under the mass of hair she made out the Quaffle speeding towards her.
Ginny stretched out her hand and caught it; triumphantly she sped towards the Slytherin goal.
Down below in the commentators stand Blaze Zabbine shouted out to the crowed, in his huskily posh voice, much like a predator upon his pray.
"Gryffindor chaser Ginny Weasley is heading for goal, just look at the way she rides that broom, I wouldn't mind her having a go at riding me…"
"ZABBINE!" McGonagall shouted.
"Sorry Professor just having a little fun," he winked at the Slytherins and saluted McGonagall. Ginny blushed profusely and almost dropped the Quaffle but still she hurried on, in a stream line whoosh.
"Weasley heads for goal she shoots…and she scores! Slytherin captain Marcus Master-mate is now in possession of the Quaffle," the crowed burst into pandemonium after hearing his name. "OHH a Bluger from Gryffindor Beater Deon Joel has knocked the Quaffle into the hands of Katie Bell another sexy chaser from Gryffindor!"
The commentary continued to echo round the pitch, making Harry falter to slip glances at the game below him. He was circling the pitch like a Hawk his eyes ablaze with curiosity, a part of him was so tempted to hover around and just observe the game but he had to find the Snitch.
"Master-Mate heading for goal he falters dodging a bluger, meant for seeker Potter. NICE ONE CRABBE GO GIVE GOYLE SOME MORE HEAD!" Zabbinie shouted, some how McGonagall refrained her self from taking the megaphone out of his grasp, she had gone very purple though and seemed to be rethinking her choice for commentator.
"Master-Mate shoots and Ron Weasley dives for it and he HA…oh…he catches it…Slytherin nil Gryffindor one FUCK PANSEY I OWE YOU 20 GALLEONS!"
And so the game continued Harry just wanted it to end, Deon was getting increasingly pissed of at Zabbinie's distracting commentary as a result he knocked a Bluger in Zabbinies direction.
"It's now 40 30 to Gryffindor, and what's this Harry Potter zooming towards Malfoy's end of the pitch! Draco go you gay fool his seen IT! Potter is now neck and neck with Malfoy they're heading towards Crabbe and Goyle…and the fucking fagots don't get out of the way. Draco and Potter are now trying to detangle themselves and Potter goes, his zooming towards it Malfoy's right behind him…and I don't believe it MALFOY FUCKING MALFOY HAS GOT THE FUCKING SNITCH! WE ONE IN YOUR GAY FACES GRYFFINDOR WOO!"
Harry hovered immobile he never lost the Snitch; Malfoy always lost it he was outraged how could he have let it happen. Harry flopped down to solid ground scuffing the perfect soil with his trainers. His team flew over to him crushed and furious all ready to blame Malfoy for cheating.
"Don't worry mate his scum next time we'll get him back, I mean cheating how desperate can you get!" Ron shouted.
"He didn't," Harry whispered in a hollow gruff voice.
"What do you mean?" Jimmy Peakes solicited.
"Malfoy one it, fair and square, he flew faster, he was at the better more obvious angle. I blew it guys I'm so sorry," Harry's voice was becoming throatier by the second.
"Oh," the whole team shared the same blank responses, looks of disappointment upon their faces. Suddenly Harry felt arms enveloping him; he looked down to see a mass of bushy brown hair, Hermione's face soon reappeared as she stepped away from him, smiling.
"Harry it doesn't matter it wasn't your fault, anyway it's just one game," she claimed understandingly.
"What would you no about Qudditch! Gawed!" The mass of student body turned round to see a furious Ginny, her eyes were glistening and her cheeks had gone pink with rage.
"Ginny what the fuck?" Harry enquired bemusedly, he whipped his head round to share a look with Ron but he too was bearing a gaze of antagonism, his ears slowly turning magenta.
Consequently Harry looked towards the rest of his team, but they'd filtered back to the changing room like a herd of abandoned puppies. Their robes wind streaked, hair matted and brooms dragging behind in the dirt.
"OOO AHHH!" The astonished cries of Buffy, Faith, Willow, Lola and Dawn drifted over the hill, lingering in the spiky grass and flying with the leaves. The girls giggled as they looked at the dazzling lights, taking random swigs from beer bottles.
"It sounds a bit wrong really, doesn't it," Lola mused.
"What do you mean?" Faith asked, linking her arm through Lola's.
"I mean ye know OOOO AHHH YES!" She giggled, empathises each sound so it was breathy and erotic.
"You're such a twisted girl!" Buffy laughed playfully punching her. Lola snorted stretching up, so her knobbly, purple and very baggy jumper stretched around her arm pits, making her look like she had holey wings.
"Maybe we should chuck her down the hill," Dawn said mockingly.
"Or maybe we should chuck you down the hill!" Buffy chuckled, she nudged the two older girls and they chased Dawn over the glowing hill, a fairy tale picture lit by the colourful bangs and sparkling pops.
0000
"Hello anyone home?" Faith yelled as she walked in to the house, the drunken Xander and cheerful girls following her.
"Yeah I'm here," Angel's voice came from behind a darkened door.
"Hay mister un joyous and dank," Buffy tittered walking over to him. "You should have come they were soooo preety!"
"Well we were looking into that pub we found out about, ye know the Leaky Cauldron, but someone just had to go check out the street behind it, and flirt with some skanky bar maid from a sleazy bar," Angel fumed.
"It was bleach boy weren't it, Captain Peroxide, although I wouldn't call him captain, more like cabin boy," Xander slurred.
"EXACTLY…" Angel shouted.
"Then again I wouldn't exactly call you Captain either, you may like to think you are but you're what 240 and you haven't redeemed yourself. You'd think that after all this time, but I guess you're just not worth the PTB's bother."
"Xander," Buffy said looking towards him shocked.
"Oh and then there's you Buffy, your not even the slayer any more but you're still hanging around acting like you're boss, it's sad!" Xander garbled tripping over his feet as he staggered to the stairs.
"Xander what's going on, Buffy's not useless, that was out of order," Willow whispered astonished.
"Yeah what ever Willow…oh sorry Darth Willow how about you go join The Sith."
"What's happened to my friend, you've been replaced by this…monster?" Willow shuddered. Xander scoffed and lumbered upstairs. In the next few days Xander couldn't be seen without a drink in his hands, his snide comments became more and more hurtful; reducing Dawn to tears and Spike's fist to connect with Xanders upper lip.
Soon the windy days of early November were turning into frigid, bitter cold ones. The airy night was becoming compressed from the icy heavens, and startlingly presumptuous with thick frost.
Xander stumbled out of yet another unwelcoming pub, he shouted abuse at the bar maid who was wiping his sweat of her pristine hands. Xander scoffed lumbering down the darkened road. He was more trashed than any book he laid eyes on, but still his thirst was unquenched.
"Probably have whiskey at the house," he mumbled to a lamp post, graphitized with the words hay gay. Xander made a left ending up on their road, he new he had keys somewhere but then again he probably lost them.
Xander triumphantly picked them out of his inside pocket, jay walking into the door he pushed the key in the scratchy lock. It swung open, sending the intoxicating stillness of the house in his direction.
The smashed brunette made his way to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of amber liquid from a shelf over the sink. It glowed for a second in the darkness, but then went back to its customary rusty couler.
"Drunk again?" Willows soft voice reverberated round the silent shadowy kitchen.
"What's it too you bitch. I only do it to numb the pain of having to look at your face every fucking day!" Xander retorted, speaking the words his father had once said on his wedding day.
"Look you're turning into your dad, how can you after everything. I stuck by you every day when your dad would come home in an abusive, drunken stupor. You swore never to be like him, and now look you're not LIKE his you ARE him!"
Xander slammed down the crystalline bottle. "How could you say that Willow? You're wrong; I'm NOTHING like my father!"
"Am I wrong? Xander look at what you've become you're everything you strived not to be."
"No, no stop it," Xander stumbled through the kitchen, begging for her to tell him it was lies.
"Xander please listen to me. You broke up with Anya because you feared this,"
"Don't you say her name!" He shouted.
"Xander please listen to me, I love you," Willow repeated the three words that he had once told her, the words that had saved her, and the world. Xander stumbled over to her suddenly a look of despair arranged on his face.
"I can't be my dad Wills I can't. I can't live like this though, all the pain this war it's worse than anything we've ever faced, I can feel it and it aches everyone is suffering, and no one's listening to me. The alcohol makes everything better, it makes it go away."
"I know, I know but there are other ways. Once you saved me from myself and now I'm doing the same with you, I'm getting you back Xander I am."
Xander slumped over the kitchen table, dead beat. Willow put her arm round his flaccid shoulders, wishing she had done something sooner. Wishing she had noticed on Halloween when he had too many orange vodka shots, wishing she had done something on that hill one week ago.