Part 3 of the "Discoveries" series. Starts during "Helpless". This is a 'transition' piece between parts 2 and 4.

 

Picking up the Pieces

Lisa Martin

 

Xander lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His eyes followed the movement of the ceiling fan.

He didn’t know how he'd gotten home. One moment he was stalking out of the library, the other he found himself in front of his home. The one thing he did know was those words going on and on in his mind, "She knows how to keep a secret." Words that hurt, cut into him like knives. They sounded like a condemnation, although, if he thought about rationally, they weren’t meant to be. But he didn’t want to be rational. He wanted to be angry, throw things through the room, yet all he could do was lie on his back.

His thoughts weren’t so quiet. They had formed an attack plan and were hitting on him with full force. His eyes closed every now and again, trying to ban those thoughts, but nothing worked. Nasty little creatures, he scolded. It only made them laugh, a mocking laugh that echoed through his skull.

'What did you expect? Forgiveness? Understanding? Get real!'

"I don't want to get real, dammit!" he yelled. Reality was something he couldn't face yet. In the last few weeks he had lived in a foggy dream world, shutting out all sense of reality. No one had noticed. They all thought he was acting as usual, Xander the clown. It was crazy but the only times he felt his feet touching the ground again were the times when Cordy chewed him out. His daily portion of bile. People might think him self destructive, but he needed it. And he deserved it.

Whatever possessed him to do it?? He wasn't the smartest guy in the world, but this had been the stupidest thing he had ever done. That Willow had made no objections made no difference. He should've told her to stay away, that she had a boyfriend. But everything inside him had caved when he saw her that night, all dressed up for the ball. She looked so sweet. His childhood friend, his pal, all grown up now. The first time he noticed she was a woman.

His friends had forgiven her almost immediately, of course they did! Sweet little Willow wasn't to blame, he was. They should've seen the way she came on to him in the library, he thought bitterly. No, that wasn't fair. He hadn't stopped her as he should have. No, it was his fault.

The phone rang. He let it ring a few times, then reached out and took the receiver. "Yeah?"

"Xander?" Buffy. His heart jumped.

"No...." He wanted to continue, to come up with a joking comment, but the words wouldn't come.

"Funny. I just wanted to know how you're doing. The eye and all."

A slow smile crept over his face. Maybe someone cared. "Not bad," he replied. "I'm still playing pirate for a while."

A light chuckle followed. "I think it looks good on you. Not that I want you to wear that thing forever."

The smile got bigger. "Why thank you Ma'am."

"Yeah, joke about it. The rest okay?"

How easy would it be to unload on her. He sighed. "Yeah, why shouldn't it be?"

"You know what I'm talking about!" A pause. "I don't take sides, Xander. You both made a mistake, so I'm gonna be mad at the both of you for a while, okay?"

"Fair enough," he replied, feeling the fog clearing a little.

"Actually I'm not mad. I don't know what I am." That's when he noticed how tired she sounded.

"You need a good night sleep by the sound of it."

"I wish. Have to patrol tonight. Faith is AWOL again."

"Be careful," he said softly, cursing at the other Slayer under his breath.

"I will."

 

The phonecall haunted him for a long time after that. He should've gone with her, he should've known something was wrong. Maybe he could have stopped this whole madness from happening.

'Xander the hero, the white knight," his inner voice mocked him.

"Yeah, so??" He almost said it out loud. His eyes flew around the room to make sure he hadn't. A small sigh of relief escaped him when he noticed they hadn't heard a thing. Too busy with their own problems. That was mean Harris, he admonished himself. Yet when he heard Willow repeating the same thing for about the twentieth time he couldn't help snapping at her.

"You're not gonna get of that broken record any time soon, are you?"

She threw him an annoyed look, then sighed in resignation. If anything, that sigh was worse than the annoyance that had flashed over her face. Poor Xander, you don't know any better, it had said. Something stirred inside of him, a spark of defiance.

He clowned around for an hour after that, knowing it was expected of him. The small satisfaction of seeing a smile every now and then was pushed aside by the growing anger. They all stood around and complained, but no one did anything! Finally he couldn't take it anymore. "I'm off," he announced.

"Bye Xander."

He kept his calm until he was out of the door, then the anger surfaced. "Bye Xander, go back to your own little world, Xander, let us handle it Xander," he mocked. He stalked away, decision made. He would do something, anything.

He walked the distance in a swift pace, muttering under his breath the whole way. Angry and somewhat exhausted he stopped in front of the door his feet had been leading him to. Taking a deep breath he let the anger drain. It was a trick he had developed over the years in order to survive. Anger and bitterness had could eat you up, and heaven knows he had had enough of that. Right now he used the trick not for himself but for the man inside the house. He wasn't angry at him.

Not bothering to ring the bell, he simply pushed against the door. As expected, it was open. Carefully he crept into the house, knowing far too well what would happen if he didn't proceed with caution; he had the scars to prove it. It wasn't necessary; the man he was looking for was lying on the couch, passed out.

Xander shook his head. He had expected this, but it still made him sad. He had seen from very close by what the loss of a job could do to someone and this wasn't just a job, it was a calling. Thinking quickly, he glanced around. The place was a mess. Books were strewn over the floor, broken glass lay by the table, the smell of alcohol filled the air. All so familiar. A bitterness rose up in his throat when he caught himself quietly cataloging the damage. This was not his home, dammit! Yet, he fell into the same routine as he would do there.

Picking up the books, he placed them on the desk; quietly he removed the splinters of glass from the carpet, all the while keeping an eye on the sleeping figure on the couch. Sleeping, yes, not unconscious form the booze, a fact for which he was silently grateful.

When he had everything cleaned up; he looked around once more as if looking for a reason to stay. Sadly he realized that there wasn't anything left to do, that he cold go home now. 'To face the same situation', he thought wryly. Only at home he didn't clean up anymore, he was past that stage. It only would be a mess again within no time. This was different. This was a one-time thing; at least he hoped so.

Squaring his shoulders he made a decision. He wouldn't let him slide downwards. He was going to stick around, watching him like a hawk. Stealth mode of course, nobody would notice that he was doing it. Maybe he could ask some advice from Angel. A grin broke free when that thought crossed his mind. Better not.

Feeling better, he casted one last glance at the sleeping figure on the couch.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight for a while G-man. Better get used to it." Smiling again, he turned and walked out of the door.

 

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