Chapter 18: I'm starting to fashion an idea in my head, where I would impress you with every single word I said.

He'd thought he was strong, dammit. He'd thought he could hold fast to his values and opinions and morals, no matter what storm raged around him. He thought he had more than enough willpower to resist, but he had been mistaken. He'd overestimated his abilities, and now he was stuck in the deepest level of hell, enduring the most horrendous torture known to man. He was letting Baith give him a make-over.

They'd dropped by after work to hang until it was time to go to the party, only to find a panicking Xander raiding his closet for anything vaguely costume-like. "I could go as a hobo." He offered as a potential costume idea, pawing though a few old ratty flannel shirts.

"As much as the beard would go great with that costume, half of the point of going to the party is to make amends with Spike, and you're not going to impress him if you're working the 'ugh, bad break-up' look." Faith said, slapping his hand as he reached for another flannel shirt.

"I could be a clown." he said, holding up a bright blue and orange striped shirt with large red buttons.

"Do you want to retain any dignity at all?" Buffy asked, yanking the shirt from his grasp.

"Okay, how about this? I could wear a t-shirt with a bunch of unsharpened pencils sewn into it."

The girls stared at him. "That's a costume?" Buffy asked hesitantly.

"Of course! I'd be 'pointless'." Xander grinned.

"Lame, Xander. That's really lame." Faith sighed.

"Ooo! I've got an idea!" Buffy said, and whispered something into Faith's ear.

Faith smiled. "We could do that. Might take a little help, but it would work."

Xander waited for them to tell him the idea. Baith wore matching smiles. Minutes passed. "Um, are we going to tell Xander this idea, or are you just going to deny me a workable idea?"

Baith exchanged a glance. "I don't know, Xander." Buffy said, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's not like you've asked us for help, is it?"

Xander took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Will you two help me find something to wear for this party?" And thus was the good intentions that had paved his way, the damning words that had sealed his fate.

"Please." Faith smirked.

"Please." Xander repeated through gritted teeth. Forget the orange shirt, he was giving away his last shred of dignity right here.

"Sure!" Buffy chirped. "We've gotta go run by the mall and I'll pull a few strings, but I'm sure I can get Gwen at 'The Chamber' to help us out."

"Okay," Faith replied, "While you call Gwen, I'll see if Andrew has any openings for a quick highlight & style."

"Ooh!" Buffy exclaimed, "Good idea! Tell him not to be shy to trim a little too, shape it around Xander's face."

Xander's eyes widened as Baith tossed back and forth make-over suggestions like a tennis match, listing off names of people he didn't know and stores he's never set foot in. As the girls dragged him to the mall and from store to store, he began to fully comprehend the most deplorable situation he'd put himself in. The Chamber turned out to be a fetish shop tucked into the corner of the mall, and Gwen was more than happy to help them find the perfect pair of black leather pants. He'd tried to reason with them when they shoved him into a dressing room to try the pants on, even referencing that episode of Friends with Ross and the leather pants to back up his argument, but it didn't work. Andrew was a hairdresser who kissed Baith on both of their cheeks and chatted in hushed tones while Xander stared at his own reflection in the mirror.

"Yeah, I can do that." he heard Andrew say, as he broke away from Baith and stood behind Xander's chair. "So, I here you've got a lucky someone you're trying to win back tonight."

"Something like that." Xander said. Andrew's fingers ran through his hair, testing the weight and thickness of it. "What are you going to do?" Andrew just smirked.

Forty-five minutes later, Andrew spun Xander around in the chair so he could see the finished result. "You look like a prince in a fairy tale." Andrew sighed, happy with his work.

Baith exchanged a glance of satisfaction. "Much better." they chorused.

"""

Two hours later, and the deadline was fast approaching. Xander was dressed in his new clothes - tight black leather pants and a silvery-gray poet's shirt, his expertly tousled and highlighted and slightly shorter hair sculpted around his face. A thin silver chain around his neck, holding a quarter-sized antique silver talisman over the center of his collarbone. Faith looked him over one last time, making sure all the tags and stickers were gone, and everything was tucked in and the fabric was hanging properly.

"Lookie lookie what I found." Buffy giggled, producing a familiar long black leather duster with a flourish.

"Where did you get that?" Xander asked.

Buffy winked. "It's Spike's."

"Klepto." Faith said affectionately.

Buffy's mouth formed an 'o' of shock. "Am not!" she exclaimed. Faith lifted an eyebrow. "I only steal Spike's stuff, and it's only in an effort to help Xan." Buffy amended, and held the duster up. "Here, Xan. Try it on."

Xander slid into it, luxuriating at the feel of the leather. It fit perfectly. He inhaled, smelling smoke and Spike. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and he almost didn't recognize himself. He looked like some of the actors in the theater - all gussied up and ready to play their parts. It suddenly clicked, and the epiphany almost knocked Xander off his feet. He remembered all the times Faith had needled him to audition, and how he'd refused every time. He'd never told her or anyone else why. It wasn't that he was afraid of acting badly. He was afraid of acting too well. He was scared to death that he would turn into a character so completely that he would lose himself, wouldn't be able to come back from it. He'd seen it happed to others, from famous actors to Larry and Fred at the youth theater - the characters they play fall in love, and uncontrolled, it bleeds over until the actors fall in love and start a relationship, only for the relationship to fall apart soon after the run of the show is completed. He was afraid to act, afraid to surrender his own thoughts and personality in order to become someone else, and risk forgetting what he thought made him Xander. He suddenly realized that the same thing applied. "Spike" was as much of, if not more so, a role to play. A mask to hide oneself in.

And then it made sense what he had to do.