Breaking Point
It was going on to his second month in Africa when he found out the truth. A grieving parent finally opened up to him. Apparently, the natives had seen the suddenly powerful girls as a threat, and as soon as they’d been identified, they’d been hunted down and killed. No matter the age, girls as young as three had been taken from their parents arms and killed. Women, past their prime and who just wanted to be left in peace had their homes burned and were stoned to death.
After he heard these stories, Xander caught a flight back to England the next day.
In his life he’d seen a lot of horrible things, but this was the last straw, this was what made it all more than he could take.
Growing up his parents had been drunks, who were both physically and verbally abusive. He’d lost his best friend to vampires, and was then forced to stake him, he’d felt the dust on his hands for days. Angel went evil on them, killing Ms. Calendar. Buffy disappeared, and they spent a whole summer wondering if she was dead. More stuff happened, demons, relationships, break-ups and spells. Then Buffy died. He’d watched her fall and stared at her broken body. He’d been strong, taking care of his girls. Then Willow brought Buffy back, and he’d seen how Buffy had suffered. He’d watched as Willow was sucked into addiction. Then Tara was killed. She hadn’t deserved that, but he’d still stayed strong enough to pull a grieving Willow back from the brink. Finally, he’d been there in the battle with The First. He’d trained those potential Slayers, stood by them; watched them get cut down by the ubervamps. He’d screamed as Caleb gouged his eye out, but had come back from it still willing to fight. He’d gone into that final battle, thinking he wouldn’t survive, but the final battle hadn’t been so final after all, not for him. It had been for Anya though, and it was her that he’d grieved for most in the months after Sunnydale became a crater.
All that, and still he’d soldiered on, heading to Africa to keep doing his part. But at the news that all the new Slayers had been killed, slaughtered because they were different, and new, and no woman should have that much power, something inside him snapped.
He’d waited until he’d got back to England, then he went to his temporary apartment, assigned by the new Council, and wrote a letter. He wrote it to Willow, and Buffy, and Giles, to the ones who’d been right by his side during everything. He asked them to understand, begged their forgiveness, and said goodbye.
He chose overdose. A few too many pills washed down with some hard liquor and he fell asleep.
He was so tired.
After he heard these stories, Xander caught a flight back to England the next day.
In his life he’d seen a lot of horrible things, but this was the last straw, this was what made it all more than he could take.
Growing up his parents had been drunks, who were both physically and verbally abusive. He’d lost his best friend to vampires, and was then forced to stake him, he’d felt the dust on his hands for days. Angel went evil on them, killing Ms. Calendar. Buffy disappeared, and they spent a whole summer wondering if she was dead. More stuff happened, demons, relationships, break-ups and spells. Then Buffy died. He’d watched her fall and stared at her broken body. He’d been strong, taking care of his girls. Then Willow brought Buffy back, and he’d seen how Buffy had suffered. He’d watched as Willow was sucked into addiction. Then Tara was killed. She hadn’t deserved that, but he’d still stayed strong enough to pull a grieving Willow back from the brink. Finally, he’d been there in the battle with The First. He’d trained those potential Slayers, stood by them; watched them get cut down by the ubervamps. He’d screamed as Caleb gouged his eye out, but had come back from it still willing to fight. He’d gone into that final battle, thinking he wouldn’t survive, but the final battle hadn’t been so final after all, not for him. It had been for Anya though, and it was her that he’d grieved for most in the months after Sunnydale became a crater.
All that, and still he’d soldiered on, heading to Africa to keep doing his part. But at the news that all the new Slayers had been killed, slaughtered because they were different, and new, and no woman should have that much power, something inside him snapped.
He’d waited until he’d got back to England, then he went to his temporary apartment, assigned by the new Council, and wrote a letter. He wrote it to Willow, and Buffy, and Giles, to the ones who’d been right by his side during everything. He asked them to understand, begged their forgiveness, and said goodbye.
He chose overdose. A few too many pills washed down with some hard liquor and he fell asleep.
He was so tired.