(no subject)
It was just after nightfall and the beach was abandoned and dark. This stretch of beach was out of the way, so there was no light contamination from the trail lights or any nearby huts. It was just the dark ocean crashing on the gray sand under the black stars. And it fit Xander's mood perfectly.
Xander sat in the sand, legs drawen up to his chest as he just stared out at the ocean. He'd been out there for a few hours now, alternating between laughing his head off and sobbing his heart out. The people who might have passed him no doubt thought he was crazy but he didn't care. His heart was broken and he'd never felt more alone in his entire life. This complete breakdown was long past due in Xander's opinion.
Today he'd found out two things to cause his deep depression. The first was the reason why he'd been miserable for the last few months as his boyfriend avoided and ignored him. Drusilla had been on the island. He didn't really know much more then that, he'd heard that name and everything had kinda melted away in his mind. Of course, Spike might have been able to give up the Slayer for the Scooby, but not his Sire. But what Xander hadn't understood was why Spike couldn't have just told him. Couldn't have just let him down easy. Xander would have understood. It would have hurt, badly, but at least he would have known. Instead, he just felt used and worthless, not even worth breaking up with, much less getting to know the reason. And then to top it off, the second thing he'd found out was that Spike was gone. Disappeared. Just like Anya, just like Clark, just like Buffy (the first one), just like Jill...just like everyone he felt close too, that he loved. Even if he wanted to confront Spike, he couldn't and that just left Xander feeling...empty. Completely and utterly empty and left behind. How long would it be until Buffy and Giles were gone leaving him here alone?
He knew he was being pathetic, wallowing in his feelings of loneliness and worthlessness, but honestly? He couldn't bring himself to care anymore.
Clutched in one hand was a bottle of alcohol, something island made, that he'd stolen from the Catscratch earlier that day when Helen had been practicing upstairs and Xander had been repairing one of the chairs downstairs. It was open, but so far he hadn't been able to summon the courage the take a drink, even though his throat was scratchy from laughing and crying. Evey time he attempted to bring the bottle to his lips, to sink into the happy obliviousness it seemed to cause in people at the Club, he thought back to coldness of his father after a long night drinking with his buddies from work and the bottle fell back down. With his luck, Xander would get drunk like his father and the emptiness he felt inside would only get worse. If it could. But was it worth the risk?
A thought occurred to Xander and a wry smile came to his lips as he raised the bottle in a toast to the stars.
"Happy fucking 21st birthday to me."
He needs to get this out of his system, so depressing post is depressing. Open to one and all, not exactly the best time to meet him but he won't be unkind, just not his normally friendly self. Come drink (or not) with the Scooby.
Xander sat in the sand, legs drawen up to his chest as he just stared out at the ocean. He'd been out there for a few hours now, alternating between laughing his head off and sobbing his heart out. The people who might have passed him no doubt thought he was crazy but he didn't care. His heart was broken and he'd never felt more alone in his entire life. This complete breakdown was long past due in Xander's opinion.
Today he'd found out two things to cause his deep depression. The first was the reason why he'd been miserable for the last few months as his boyfriend avoided and ignored him. Drusilla had been on the island. He didn't really know much more then that, he'd heard that name and everything had kinda melted away in his mind. Of course, Spike might have been able to give up the Slayer for the Scooby, but not his Sire. But what Xander hadn't understood was why Spike couldn't have just told him. Couldn't have just let him down easy. Xander would have understood. It would have hurt, badly, but at least he would have known. Instead, he just felt used and worthless, not even worth breaking up with, much less getting to know the reason. And then to top it off, the second thing he'd found out was that Spike was gone. Disappeared. Just like Anya, just like Clark, just like Buffy (the first one), just like Jill...just like everyone he felt close too, that he loved. Even if he wanted to confront Spike, he couldn't and that just left Xander feeling...empty. Completely and utterly empty and left behind. How long would it be until Buffy and Giles were gone leaving him here alone?
He knew he was being pathetic, wallowing in his feelings of loneliness and worthlessness, but honestly? He couldn't bring himself to care anymore.
Clutched in one hand was a bottle of alcohol, something island made, that he'd stolen from the Catscratch earlier that day when Helen had been practicing upstairs and Xander had been repairing one of the chairs downstairs. It was open, but so far he hadn't been able to summon the courage the take a drink, even though his throat was scratchy from laughing and crying. Evey time he attempted to bring the bottle to his lips, to sink into the happy obliviousness it seemed to cause in people at the Club, he thought back to coldness of his father after a long night drinking with his buddies from work and the bottle fell back down. With his luck, Xander would get drunk like his father and the emptiness he felt inside would only get worse. If it could. But was it worth the risk?
A thought occurred to Xander and a wry smile came to his lips as he raised the bottle in a toast to the stars.
"Happy fucking 21st birthday to me."
He needs to get this out of his system, so depressing post is depressing. Open to one and all, not exactly the best time to meet him but he won't be unkind, just not his normally friendly self. Come drink (or not) with the Scooby.