There'd been moments of distraction that made it almost bearable, but saying goodbye to almost everyone today had still been exhausting. It was a strange, melancholy relief when the last of Xander's friends said goodnight and left him alone with Bridge.

Xander's already handwavily sent out e-mails letting people know his new cellphone number if they didn't have it already, and his UC Sunnydale e-mail address, and... when he's leaving. Which he finally has to say 'tomorrow morning' about instead of 'Friday' because they're one and the same ( Read more... )

Xander's really packing, this time, not just trying not to and failing. He doesn't want to, but the more he gets squared away now, the more time he'll have left to be with people, instead of doing this. And it's... going. Not well, but it's going. The only problem is he doesn't have enough suitcases, and they aren't nearly big enough, or maybe just ( Read more... )

( Dear Willow )

He was trying to make sure that every minute he had left in Fandom this summer counted. Xander had the feeling someone like Willow wouldn't see it that way, because she'd be trying to cram every possible experience known to humankind into this last month, but... he was good with small and slow and relaxed, so when he remembered this, he'd remember ( Read more... )

Xander was sort of just sitting in bed checking e-mail, as you do, since somebody else wasn't awake and despite the ice cream-and-leftover-birthday-cake remedy he'd brought back last night, somebody else was in theory still sleeping off a headache ( Read more... )

Crazy week? Doesn't even begin to cover it. There'd been running into Conner, Anders, and Z, which had lead to a trip to Caritas on Wednesday, then trying to convince Bridge he needed to OMG specify when complaining about teachers who made him take his shirt off in class on Thursday, then a picnic and later sneaking off from the Seahorse campfire ( Read more... )

( Dear Willow )

After a certain conversation last night in the Common Room (and no, not the one about dirty chips, though that had turned out to be oddly cool), Xander realized he... really, really needed to clean his room, if there was going to be visiting-by-people-not-Bridge happening. Not that he was a complete and utter slob, especially with his less-slobby- ( Read more... )

Xander stared at the package on his bed, which he'd just retrieved from the post office, a walk that his still generally-aching body wasn't real happy about. He'd had an idea what was in the package, though, and no idea how long it would last before spoiling. It was postmarked London, Florence, O'Fallon, and Castle Rock. It had stamps on it, but ( Read more... )