A Child Called Boy
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When Xander had looped back, he hadn’t awoken in his repulsive room. Oddly enough, it was October 31st, 1997, but rather than being in his bed with a blaring alarm beside him, he awoke outside on the front lawn of a random house in Buffy’s neighborhood. Additionally, Ethan’s chaos magic had already cursed everyone wearing his costumes, confusing Xander. He wasn’t sure how he missed the lead-up to the curse—if, possibly, his fractured mind was losing all sense of time, but then, from behind him, he heard a familiar voice.
“Oh, Xander… If you’re remembering this, you must’ve really hit rock bottom.”
Xander turned his gaze upon a stunning Cordelia, as if dressed in brilliant bright light, and hard to look directly at. Suddenly, he felt an incredible spiritual and emotional energy radiating from her. It was so strong, it pushed him back and burst his heart with an overflow of emotions so potent, he wanted to weep in the fetal position under a rock. It was as she was lowering the intensity of her divine majesty that he remembered when he spoke to Willow and Buffy’s older versions. He had also tried to speak to Cordelia’s older version multiple times, but couldn’t. He would just ‘wake up’ when the Janus curse had been resolved.
“Wh-Wh? …H-H?” the strung-out Xander struggled to ask.
“I’m sort of a big deal now, so it’s not as easy to summon me like you did Buffy and Willow,” she told him, as if reading his mind. The brilliant glow around her settled to where he could see her without hurting his eyes. She continued, “I purposely made it so that the only way you would remember this was when you hit rock bottom. So… congratulations!”
Xander felt physically incapable of responding to her and was visibly trembling.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, quickly realizing why he was so shaken. “Let me just…”
The spiritual pressure and emotional drain lessened even more—to a manageable level—but he could still feel it like a constant gust of hot wind, making it hard for him to breathe around her. Wiping his sweaty brow with his forearm, the neurotic Xander was surprised to see the entire town was frozen still.
“Wow, I’m actually inside a Time Braid,” Cordelia cooed, looking around the frozen neighborhood. “I bet no one in the Higher realm has ever been in one before. I’m so getting promoted for this.”
“C-Co-Cordy?”
“That’s me! Your resident Higher Being for the Powers That Be.” She leveled him with a grand smile and a tilt of her head. “I can see you’ve been through the wringer.”
“Y-you can?”
“I can see a lot now,” she stated, fixing her radiant hair. “And I’m going to help you see, too.”
“See what?” His confusion was quickly shoved out of the way for sheer desperation, at the possibility of escaping the time braid. Xander instantly dropped to his knees and grabbed the hem of her long, form-fitting white dress as he begged with clear yearning, “Ar-Are you going to help me get out of this?! Can you get me out?! Please, Cordy, I need to get out!”
Cordelia flew around him, bending forward as she chided, “I get you’re a hair’s breadth away from snapping like a deranged twig, but I’m going to need you to tone it down a notch.”
“I- I don’t know how to anymore,” he freely admitted, eying her desperately. “I feel like I’m out of my cracked mind and can’t get back to- to... whatever I’m supposed to be!”
“Like I said, I’m going to show you,” she asserted. “So take a few deep breaths.” He nodded before taking several deep breaths and trying his hardest to calm down. After a few minutes, Cordelia softly cooed, “Good. Very good. Now, you know you’re in a Time Braid, but do you know why?” Xander shook his head. “I won’t lie to you. I don’t exactly know either. These things are super rare, but if it’s what I think it is, then I think I need to take some of the blame here. I’m only speculating here, but I think that day might be why I’m here, too.”
“That day? What do you mean by that day?”
“Usually, a Higher Being doesn’t make direct contact with you normies, even when a soul is at their lowest point, such as yourself. After all, there are tons of people on Earth who have it way worse than you and we don’t visit them either. It’s kind of a rule. But in your case, here I am, which means something very powerful is at play here.”
“You mean this isn’t you guys? The Powers That Be?”
“Uhhh, maybe, but maybe not,” she said, tilting her head, only adding to his confusion. “It’s sort of like that saying, if God can create anything, could he create a boulder so heavy he can’t lift it? The answer is yes and no. Up until the moment he lifts it, the boulder is heavier than he can lift. So long as he doesn’t lift it, he can live in a world that has a boulder he can’t lift.”
“But the second he tries to lift it, he can, since he’s God,” he concluded. “You’re saying the Powers That Be can create this Time Braid, but haven’t?”
“Not sure,” she replied with a quaint shrug. “The source of this is unknown to me—which is really odd—but I know I’m involved. That leads me to believe this is the bosses, since I wouldn’t be involved otherwise.”
“So… who’s doing this to me?”
Shaking her head, she reiterated, “Not sure. I don’t know why this is happening, or who created it, or even why you. But for my part, I think this has a lot to do with something I said to you back in our senior year of high school; something that stuck with you for the rest of your life. I have to take a share of the blame for this.”
Shaking his head, he felt like attempting to think was even harder than trying to remember. ‘Something Cordelia said in their senior year…’ Xander wondered. Shaking his head, he asked, “What did you… oh, the Zeppo.”
“You remember,” she sweetly sang with a smile. “Back then, I told you it was in reference to Zeppo Marx, the ‘straight’ one out of the Marx brothers, and long considered the most unexceptional of their act.”
Xander felt the unsettling truth of her words as he said, “And you were right. Of all of us Scoobies, Old Me was the only one who didn’t amount to anything. Willow, Giles, Angel, you, obviously Buffy, even Spike—everyone but me did amazing things.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Cordelia casually agreed. “I was right on the money, huh?”
His shoulders sagged, and he sighed before sarcastically replying, “Thanks, Cor. This has been great.”
Cordelia flew closer to him, winning his attention with her smile as she pointed out, “Xander, I was right, but not because it was meant to be that way.”
With knitted brows, he asked, “What does that mean?”
“My Zeppo comment only cemented a frame you already saw in yourself, which was a bigger problem than anyone could’ve realized.”
“Okay… why?”
“Because, other than saving Buffy & friends from the bomb in the school basement, and talking Dark Willow down from destroying the world, everything else about you, more or less, stayed the same. That’s called a pattern. Saving your friends once or twice in decades of fighting isn’t enough to change the pattern. Think of it like a ladder, and the rungs are your moments of success. Sure, you have three or four rungs, but that’s it. You won’t be able to climb to the top without small incremental rungs to elevate you.”
“Like the loops in the time braid? One day, one week, one month, then the year?”
“I guess, sure,” she casually answered with a shoulder shrug. “Truth be told, I may be an agent of the Powers That Be, but even I don’t know much about time braids. They take an incredible amount of power to create, and most of us don’t even know where it comes from. It’s one of the very few things that I or any of the other Higher Beings don’t know enough about.”
“Fine,” Xander huffed. “You can’t tell me why this is happening to me, specifically, but can you tell me how to get out?”
“That much is pretty obvious,” Cordelia said. “You have to break the pattern, which means it’s time for one of my favorite parts of the gig.” At his raised eyebrows, she happily answered, “Show and tell!”
“Wha-”
Xander shut up when the surrounding suburban neighborhood suddenly disintegrated from solid leaves, grass, street, power poles, houses, mailboxes, cars, people, and monsters to a gaseous form of similar colors. The colored mist swirled around them like they were in the eye of a tornado before slowing and reshuffling. The blurry gusts of different colors soon solidified into a crystal-clear hospital room.
It was a plain room, seemingly outdated compared to Xander’s future memories of technological medical advances. A woman was in a hospital bed, holding a baby against her bosom. A man stood by the door, and happily gazed at his family. It was his parents, Anthony and Jessica Harris née Garlington, and they looked completely different from how he remembered them. To Xander, they were far too skinny and young to be real. Anthony was dressed like a hippie—in a faded blue shirt unbuttoned, red sunglasses, a yellow bandanna, mustard-colored pants, with white shoes. His hair was long, and his face was clean-shaven. His mother looked beautiful—even in her hospital gown—with her cherry-blonde hair, long and blown out.
“There they are,” Cordelia said. “Your parents were kinda hot.”
“This is what you meant by show and tell?” Xander demanded to know, turning to her. “Is there any way we can just skip it? I’m not in the mood for a trip down memory lane.”
“Suck it up, buttercup,” Cordelia replied, ignoring his stare. “This is the source of it all, so it’s important you don’t wuss out, or you might be stuck in this until you go crazy.”
“…Shouldn’t the higher beings be nicer to their subjects?”
“Yeah, ‘cause that’s not backward, or anything,” she sarcastically replied with a roll of her eyes.
“Cordelia Chase, in a celestial seat of power over all mankind,” Xander moaned with a hint of fear, shaking his head as if realizing the magnitude of that. “If that’s not a point for atheism, I don’t know what is.”
“Anyway, you started with them,” Cordelia continued, giving him a snarky look before returning to his parents. “Your mom: straight-laced, very pretty, and from a wealthy and very conservative family. That is, until she met your rebel-without-a-cause father. Her family didn’t approve of the union, and when your parents eloped, they disowned her.”
“It isn’t enough that I already know my family fights a lot? Do we really need to get into the gory details?”
“Uh, duh!” she quickly returned. “Stop running and pay attention, Xander. This is important.”
The pair turned to the good-looking Anthony, stepping closer to the loving picture of his wife holding his son. The smile on his face was from ear-to-ear and genuinely wholehearted.
“There’s my fancy lady,” Anthony said, walking toward the bed.
“Oh, here’s papa,” Jessica quietly called, twisting and elevating the sleeping baby in her arms for her husband to see. “Come meet your beautiful son, Alexander LaVelle Harris.”
“Yup… there I am,” Xander glumly noted, feeling a sense of doom pressing down on him.
“Oh, my GOD!” Cordelia cutely bemoaned, moving in closer to the sleeping infant-Xander. “I can’t believe how adorable you look! With your full head of hair and chubby cheeks!”
Xander paid less attention to Cordelia’s squealing enthusiasm and more to his father. The handsome man wasn’t moving. He took off his red sunglasses and eyed the new mother with a look Xander remembered well. Anthony felt disrespected and would soon become very upset.
“Alexander? LaVelle?” Anthony repeated. Shaking his head as if confused, he said, “We agreed on Tony Jr.”
“No, that’s what you wanted,” Jessica replied, eying him as if she was preparing for a fight. Xander knew that look as well. “Father said-”
“Father said,” Anthony angrily finished, throwing a hand in the air. “Here we go again. What’d he say this time, hmm? How am I a failure now?”
After taking a deep and calming breath to not disturb the small baby in her arms, Jessica answered, “Father said that if I gave him his and grandfather’s name, he’ll-”
“He’ll what?!” Anthony yelled. “What’s he going to rub my face in this time?! As if it’s not his favorite way to use his fucking money. I’m getting real sick and tired of this, Jess. So fucking tired!”
“Seriously?!” Jessica demanded, looking at him as if he were crazy. She reminded him, “We don’t even have a house, Tony! How long are we going to keep living at your mother’s? And now with a baby?! Father said he’d give us a house if I named him after them-”
“So I’d have no choice but to think of that smarmy bastard every time I call for my son!” Anthony raged. “How’s it possible you can be this stupid?! Can’t you see he’s doing this on purpose because he hates me?!”
“Oh, no, don’t even try that!You’ve hated him from the very start!” Jessica yelled back, sitting up and sharply shuffling the baby in her arms and waking him. Almost as if forgetting the infant in her arms, she retorted, “At least he owns a company and can take care of his family!”
As the yelling parents rang loudly in his ears, Xander focused on his baby-self, crying weakly under all the commotion. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and he couldn’t quite catch his breath as he asked Cordelia, “Can we please stop this? Like, it doesn’t really matter, right? I mean, I already know they fight.”
Cordelia eyed him with concern before sadly answering, “No.” Xander turned to her and asked again, but with stone-cold eyes. She shook her head, sympathetically adding, “You make a lot of bad decisions, Xander—like, a lot—in life and love. Don’t you ever wonder why that is? It’s not just bad luck. It’s deeper—at the heart of you.”
“And what’s this supposed to do?” Xander grumbled, pointing to his parents.
“We’ll see, won’t we?” she replied.
“We need a home, Tony, and daddy is giving us one,” Jessica reiterated. “Please, do it for your son.”
Anthony glared at her in silence, growing angry at her request and seemingly arguing with himself. Barely able to contain his fury, Anthony growled and huffed before punching the wall. Suddenly realizing baby-Xander was crying till he was red in the face, Anthony stomped out of the room, leaving without having even held his son. Tears running down her face, Jessica held baby-Xander close, gently shushing him as she cried to herself.
Xander turned to the angelic Cordelia in a mixture of fear and irritation, asking, “How much more of this-”
“Until you understand,” she quickly answered him. “Deeply, fully, and without reservation.”
“…I don’t want to see this, Cor,” he solemnly stated.
“It’s been over a hundred years of basically walking in circles,” she gently admonished. “How badly do you want to get out?” Xander gritted his teeth and shivered before she added, “Minus world domination, you’ve done everything else—which, FYI, conquering the planet wouldn’t work, either. You’ve strengthened your body, improved your knowledge, and gained a lot of valuable skills. This is the last thing, Xander. And sure, facing it will be hard, but you won’t be alone.”
Xander carefully observed Cordelia extend her hand. However, he was hesitant to take it. Setting his sight on his young mother, Xander knew he was on a jagged path through a thicket of thorny vines: death by a thousand cuts. He wanted to stop the pain, not add to it, so he didn’t want to take Cordelia’s hand.
“Look lower,” Cordelia told him.
Reluctantly, Xander lowered his gaze to the crying infant in her arms.
“Do it for him,” Cordelia said.
Xander hated admitting to himself he felt a deep-seated fear weighing him down. He never enjoyed thinking of his parents and became adept at forgetting them the moment he left his house. Now, if he wanted to give that baby a chance—give himself a chance—he felt obligated to see exactly how alike he was to his alcoholic and abusive parents. Without looking, an anxious Xander tentatively reached out and took Cordelia’s hand.
When the pair took a step forward, everything around them quickly shifted into cloudy puffs of swirling wind again. They were in the eye of a multi-colored tornado for three steps before the gaseous gusts slowed and reformed into the living room of Xander’s boyhood home. Though unfurnished, it was cleaner and brighter, like a comforting Hallmark card. Moving boxes were piled in the corners of the room and moving men were walking up and down the hallway with more boxes.
“How many trips like that do we get before we use up the special effects budget?” Xander asked.
Cordy snorted, but just pointed ahead. In the center of the room was Jessica, holding baby-Xander in her arms, and an older man with styled gray hair, dressed in a black, pin-striped suit. He looked as if he worked at a high-powered law firm for fifty years. The older man eyed the infant lovingly, letting baby-Xander’s small hand grip his finger.
“I can tell from his grip,” Alexander Sr. told his daughter. “He has the hands of a surgeon or an engineer. Is it too early to discuss academies best suited for STEM fields?”
“Maybe just a tad, daddy,” Jessica said with a smile.
“Well, he has to go to the finest institutions if he’s to make something of himself,” the man insisted.
Jessica swallowed before reluctantly admitting, “A-Actually, Tony and I talked about him attending the local schools.”
“Whatever for?” Alexander Sr. asked. “I’ll cover the cost of boarding him in the best private schools. My grandson must have the best opportunities available. That’s all that matters.”
“You got us this beautiful house in a beautiful neighborhood with nice schools nearby,” Jess pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be better for Xander if he was with his parents instead of a bunch of strangers in a stuffy old school hundreds of miles away?” Alexander pulled his finger away from the baby’s grasp as he eyed his daughter with concern as she continued. “Let’s just try him out at the local schools first, and if he does well, we can talk about university, okay?”
Alexander took a step away and observed her critically. When she avoided looking into his eyes, the senior knew the truth, and asked, “This is coming from him, isn’t it?”
“Daddy-”
“Mr. Garlington, to you, Mrs. Harris,” he coldly instructed, stepping away.
“Daddy, please,” she pleaded with him. “Don’t be like that. Tony needs to have some say in raising his son.”
“So my grandson can turn out like that poor excuse of a man? Useless but for the degradation of duty and the corruption of morals. That man is a cancer…” Alexander cleared his throat before telling his daughter, “I will give you this one opportunity to save your son from him. Or all of it is gone.”
Her eyes widened before she asked, “But the house is under-”
“You can keep the damned house, Jessica,” Alexander interrupted. “What will a roof over your head matter if the foundation is rotten?”
“But Tony’s not that bad,” Jess insisted with a fearful expression. “Why’s it so impossible for you to give him a chance? He’s working right now! For us!”
“An errand boy,” he said, as if spitting filth out of his mouth.
“No, you always said a man is only a success if he provides for his family,” the young mother argued. “Tony works at the post office now—a government job—which means he’s providing!”
“He’ll work there for a few years—if that—then it’ll be a supermarket job. After that, it’ll be a retail position, then a warehouse position, and then, and then, and then,” Alexander Sr. foretold. “He’s lazy, Jessica—unambitious. I can see it in his eyes; He expects the world to be handed to him on a silver platter, and like a petulant child, throws a fit when the world doesn’t conform to his whim. Is that the example of ‘success’ you want your son to adopt?” At her silence, he added, “Convince your husband to set aside his selfish need to feel important and think of what’s best for young Alexander. Or I vow to never be a part of your lives again.”
Jessica looked fearful, distraught, and could do nothing but nod.
With a quick exhale, Cordelia asked, “How rich was your grandfather, anyway?” Her elegant eyebrows arched high as she replied, “Wow, that’s fairly wealthy for his day. Easily top one percent.”
“I didn’t even say anything,” a confused Xander said.
“Yeah, my higher-being brain is like super Google on steroids. I can ask myself almost anything and get an answer.”
“So? How much was grandpa worth?”
“At the height of his net worth, nearly five million.”
“Doesn’t really sound like much,” Xander noted with an arched brow.
“In the 80s? That’s… brain, help me out… Around 18 million in today’s- er, your day’s money.”
Whipping his flabbergasted head to her, the teen yelled, “What the hell?! Where’d it all go? Wait, is that why my parents fight all the time?”
Cordelia eyed him sadly for a moment before answering, “…Let’s keep watching.”
“Can’t you just tell me, Brainiac?”
Shaking her head, Cordelia extended her hand as she solemnly replied, “Let’s keep watching.”
Once again, the room exploded into a puff of colorful smoke before swirling around them with the violence and speed of a blender. After a moment, the particles of chromatic gas slowed before shifting into solid shapes of a new environment. They were in Anthony and Jessica’s bedroom. Baby-Xander was crying in his crib, flailing his tiny arms and legs, begging for attention, but his parents were gone. Through the walls, Xander and Cordelia could hear Anthony and Jessica shouting at each other on the first floor of the house.
Though muffled, they could hear Anthony yell, “Because he never had a son of his own and now he wants mine! And you’re giving my son away!”
“I just want Xander-”
“Don’t say that fucking name in front of me!”
“It’s just a name!”
“JUST DON’T FUCKING SAY IT!”
“Fine! Don’t you want our son to have the best? Like I did?” a wailing Jessica asked.
“And look where all those fancy schools got you! No job and a blue-collar husband,” they heard him through the walls. “It doesn’t matter what we give that kid, he’s still going to be whatever he’s going to be! If he wants to be a screwup, he’ll be a screwup! If he’s destined to be something else, that’s what he’ll be!”
“How can you even say that about your own son?! If you don’t love him, then just say that!”
“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?! You and that asshole dad of yours would just love to see me fail at raising my own boy!”
“We just want the best-”
“THEN YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE SIDED WITH HIM OVER ME!”
“I ALREADY LEFT MY FAMILY BECAUSE OF YOU! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT!?”
“LOYALTY!! I’M YOUR HUSBAND! I’M THE ONE TAKING CARE OF US! TREAT ME WITH THE GODDAMN RESPECT I DESERVE!”
“MAYBE WHEN YOU’VE ACTUALLY EARNED IT, I WILL-”
Xander and Cordelia hear a loud banging noise, and for a moment, the stone-faced Xander wondered if his father hit his mother, but quickly concluded it was drywall instead of her face. There was a violent symphony of loud noises, possibly the table flipping and glass breaking before the closing of a door. Xander and Cordelia might’ve heard Jessica weeping from downstairs if not for baby-Xander’s crying.
After that, the dark bedroom shifted to a luxurious sitting room. Xander and Cordelia were impressed by the elegant room, with its high ceiling, and three 3-light chandeliers aligned with three tall, arching windows. The sunlight lit the room with a warm glow. Alexander Sr., Jessica—holding baby Xander—and a woman Xander hadn’t seen before were sitting on the couch and seats in front of the fireplace. On the red oak coffee table in front of them were three steaming cups of tea.
“That’s Anne Leslie Garlington,” Cordelia informed him. “Your maternal grandmother. This is your grandparents’ house… well, with a sitting room like this, it’s so obviously a mansion.”
Xander absentmindedly nodded, but was focused on Alexander Sr. He looked quite upset, and Xander feared it was because his mother decided not to accept his offer to provide for his education. Xander already knew he hadn’t gone to the best schools, so clearly, any chance he had for a brighter future somehow fell through. He couldn’t even recall his maternal grandparents until Cordelia showed him. In truth, Xander hadn’t met any family from his mother’s side. Every event that unfortunately brought the family together would always exclude her side of the family tree.
Alexander huffed with irritation before standing up and exiting the room. Both of the women stood and watched him go with trepidation.
“Daddy?” Jessica called after him, but he’d already left the room.
“Don’t worry, sweety,” Anne Leslie reassured her daughter, gently squeezing her shoulder. “He’ll come around.” Jessica nodded and hugged her mother with one arm, careful not to distress baby-Xander. Anne Leslie smiled adoringly at the cute baby between them, massaging its cheeks as she made cooing noises. While her eyes remained on the adorableness of the baby, Anne Leslie warned, “Don’t expect your father to compromise again. You know him. He doesn’t accommodate well, especially to those he doesn’t hold in the highest regard.”
“I know,” Jessica said with a hint of worry.
Anne continued, “If your husband pushes too far again, your father will leave, and I highly doubt you’ll see us again.”
“I know,” Jessica repeats.
“Make sure that never happens,” Anne warned her daughter. “I’d hate it every day for the rest of my shortened life if I was forced to miss out on my only grandson’s childhood, but I won’t go against your father.”
“I know, mom,” Jessica sympathetically replied. “We won’t let it come to that.”
“Anthony must allow Xander to attend any middle school of our choosing,” Anne reiterated. “Even if it’s a boarding school outside of the country.”
“I’ll make Tony see this is for the best,” Jessica assured her mother, nodding fervently as she added, “I promise.”
“…I suppose we’ll see,” Anne hesitantly stated. Turning her attention to her grandson, she kissed each of his chubby cheeks before saying, “I better go settle that old man down, or he’ll be tossing and turning all night.”
After thanking her mother profusely, Jessica and baby-Xander were alone in the sitting room. The jaunty mother elevated Xander to the sky and twirled several times, eliciting joyful, bubbling laughter from the months-old baby.
“We did it!” the cheery mother sang. “Ah! I can’t believe he agreed to let you attend local schools!”
The baby giggled happily before Jessica brought her son to her chest, holding him tightly to her nurturing warmth, willing her happiness to carry through to her baby. The cherry-blonde mother gently swayed from side to side, humming soothingly as she rubbed her baby’s back. Baby Xander sweetly cooed, comforted by his mother, and held onto her tightly. It made Xander’s hand tickle with a faint trace of familiarity, and the uncomfortable teen flexed his hands to rid himself of the eerie feeling.
Completely at ease, Jessica softly said, “I know you’re laying down all day, waiting for someone to come along and hold you close; waiting for someone to love you; to accept you.” She leaned baby-Xander back and looked into his large brown eyes as she added, “I’ll never stop being that person for you. I love you more than anything, my beautiful baby boy, and at every stage of your life, you’ll always, always have me. That’s a promise your mommy is making to you.”
“Aww,” Cordelia sounded. “You know, the most important years in a child’s development are from day one to age five. The experiences and relationships formed during those years determine how their brain develops. In fact, by the time children reach five years old, 90% of their brain is already developed.”
Xander heard her. However, he was more focused on his mother, lovingly holding his infant counterpart. It was painfully clear to Xander how much his mother loved him, which hurt all the more when he recalled all the emotional and physical abuse he’d endured in the latter stages of boyhood, and wondered, ‘What the fuck happened?’
“Just so you know, I can hear your thoughts,” Cordelia remarked.
“Why am I seeing this, Cor?!” Xander yelled out. “Seriously, I already know my parents fucked up.”
“We’re here to find the missing piece,” Cordelia gently answered.
“The missing piece is her lie!” Xander yelled, squaring his shoulders in growing agitation. “She said she’d always love me! Always be there for me. There! We found it!”
“In all fairness, she does look like she loves you very much,” Cordelia carefully mentioned.
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Whirling on her, he yelled, “Then what the fuck happened?!” His chest swelled with pent-up emotion, ready to burst out, and he turned away from his celestial friend to try and calm down.
Placing a calming hand on his shaking shoulder, Cordelia gently said, “I know it’s hard, Xander, but do you want to continue making the same mistakes over and over, or do you want to know what the problem is so you can start to mend it, and hopefully, do better?”
“I would’ve been better if I actually went to the schools my grandparents wanted,” Xander retorted.
“Better without Willow? Without Buffy? And all the lives you saved by meeting them?” Cordelia asked. “You were instrumental in saving Buffy’s life, who went on to save the world multiple times. If you weren’t in Sunnydale when you were, the world would be a radically different place—and likely overflowing with evil.”
“So, I needed to suffer in that house because the world would’ve been doomed if I hadn’t?”
“You’re not a sacrificial lamb, Xander,” Cordelia easily answered. “You didn’t need to suffer, but you also didn’t need to go to private schools to be better. Your mother went to private schools, and you saw how her decisions affected her life. My parents went to public schools, created their wealth, and lost it all. Where you go to school isn’t the safe bet against bad decisions that you think it is.”
“Then what is?”
“I suppose we’ll have to keep going until you figure that out.”
Once again, the scene in front of them crumbled into multi-colored plumes of dust before swirling around them and once again settling into a new location. Xander and Cordelia were in the familiar playground of the most popular park in town. Hammersmith Park was one of the biggest in Sunnydale. The five acres of forestry and gardens were close to the police and fire stations, and had a baseball field, which allowed for many games and community events. Hammersmith was also safer than Weatherby Park and close enough to many neighborhoods.
Xander and Cordelia were walking behind Anthony Harris, holding four-year-old Xander’s hand as he walked toward the sandpit of the playground. The tired father was dressed in his Blockbuster uniform and looking around the large playground. There were many children playing and mothers gossiping together as they watched their young ones.
“Oh, that’s a nice one,” Anthony muttered to himself, staring at a brunette woman escorting her daughter to the sandpit. The gruff-looking father kneeled beside his energetic son, pointed toward the mother and daughter, and said, “Alright boy, you see that little girl with the pretty mommy?”
Older Xander turned to Cordelia and asked, “Uh… isn’t that you and your mom?”
“I suppose this is the day we met,” she replied, watching with curious, yet concerned eyes.
“Wh-Where?” Four-year-old Xander slowly asked, his full attention on trying to run to the swing sets.
Anthony held his son back with a firm grip on his arm and physically forced little Xander’s small head to look over at the sandpit. With less patience, he repeated, “There, by the sandbox. You like playing in the sand, right?”
“Nooooo,” child-Xander moaned, trying to pull away. “It- It gets e-everywhere!”
“Hey, hey,” Anthony growled, shaking his son. “Stop that right now, or I swear to God we’re going back home and I lock you in your room. Is that what you want?!”
“I’ll be good. I’ll be good,” child-Xander emphatically replied, eager to stay in the park. “I promise.”
“Always listen to me, okay?” Anthony sternly demanded. “I’m the one who cares about you the most.”
“O-Okay,” the young boy answered, nodding his head, making his long silky dark hair sway.
“Good,” Anthony asserted. He pointed to the little girl making a sand sculpture with her blue bucket, and said, “Now, I want you to go and play with that little girl over there, okay? Can you do that for me?”
Little Xander nodded energetically before running to little Cordelia in the sandbox. Taking his name badge off, Anthony smiled and walked toward the younger Mrs. Chase.
“He’s not going to do what I think he is, is he?” Cordelia asked. Her brain must’ve answered before she cursed a second later. Xander and Cordelia then watched Anthony flirt with Mrs. Chase while their children played.
“I shouldn’t say this as an impartial Higher Being,” Cordelia began as she walked over to her younger self. “But your father is scum.”
Xander looked from their parents to Cordelia and back, asking, “Uh, they don’t… you know- They don’t, right?”
Kneeling beside the four-year-old Xander and Cordelia, the Higher Being answered, “No, thank God.”
The young Xander must’ve asked the equally young Cordelia what she was making because the cute girl answered, “I’mm mm-making, Europe,” as she lifted the blue bucket off another shaped sand.
With a tilt of his head, the confused boy asked, “What’s ‘You Up?’”
Looking at him, offended, four-year-old Cordelia returned, “Not ‘You Up!’ Europe!”
Eying her with growing confusion, child-Xander asked, “You Rope? Is that- Is that a game? Can I play?”
Little Cordelia set her bucket down and flatly told him, “There’s something wrong with your head.”
“Aww, the first time I ever insulted you,” Celestial Cordelia happily remarked, turning to grownup Xander, who was shaking his head. “I can’t believe I was that observant at such a young age.”
Teenage-Xander walked up to child-Xander as the small boy easily shot back, “You-Your mouth is worse than my head!”
“You have no idea, Mini-Me. No idea,” Teenage Xander commiserated, making the Higher Being roll her eyes.
Little Cordelia laughed and little Xander smiled.
“I’m Cordelia,” the little girl said.
“Xander,” the boy returned with a smile.
“Aww, aren’t they cute together?” the elder Cordy asked. “We totally could’ve been besties. I even met you before Willow and Jessie!”
Xander nodded before asking, “Have you ever asked yourself why we started feuding?”
“Not really,” she answered. “It was enough to know that I didn’t like you.”
As the children continued playing in the sand, everyone nearby heard a loud SLAP. The pairs of Xander and Cordelia turned to see that Mrs. Chase had slapped Anthony. The pretty mother stomped over to her daughter, calling out, “Creep!” They—along with half of the other parents in the playground—watched Mrs. Chase pick up her daughter as she ordered, “Never speak to this boy or his horrible father, you hear me? They’re very bad people.”
“Fuck you, you stuck-up bitch,” Anthony yelled back as he grabbed his son’s hand. “Can’t even take a joke. That’s why you’re going to die alone!”
“…Charming,” Celestial Cordelia sarcastically remarked as she and Xander watched the parents take their children away in opposite directions.
Shaking his head in disappointment, Xander groaned, saying, “And not at all surprising. Dear old dad hit on Buffy at Old-Man-Xander’s wedding.”
While the park remained the same, the people all puffed into smoke, swirled around in many circles, and rematerialized in different spots as different people. Four-year-old Xander was being led to the playground by his mother, and Xander and Cordelia observed how the other mothers were gossiping about little Xander and Jessica. Little Xander simply wanted to dash toward the swings, pulling at her arm to hurry, and hadn’t noticed the stares from the mothers and some children.
When Jessica finally let him go, he ran straight to the swing set. When the exuberant boy snagged an empty seat, he smiled at the other three children playing. They smiled back until their mothers called them away. Xander watched the three boys leave but thought nothing of it. Jessica, however, saw her son, swinging on the swing set alone. The anxious woman sat down at a nearby bench, and the only other mother seated there left.
Cordelia and Xander watched Jessica nearly come to tears before a red-haired girl rushed to the swing set with a book in her hand. She took a seat next to Xander, but rather than swing wildly like the boy was doing, she opened the book and read. On the bench sat a red-haired man in the most mundane, earth-toned clothes—brown slacks, a moss-green button-down shirt, and a brown corduroy jacket with patches on the elbows.
“Mr. Rosenberg,” Xander gladly noted.
The man simply nodded to Jessica, who was clearing her eyes. The young mother returned the greeting with a nod and half-smile and the parents watched their children socialize. Xander and Cordelia walked over to the children and heard Xander ask why she wasn’t swinging. However, Willow was so timid, she simply shook her head. Though Xander looked confused, he simply shrugged and kept swinging beside her, laughing and cheering at the high ups and fast downs of the pendulum motion.
With a wave of Cordelia’s hand, time sped up significantly. Parents and children zipped by them as many afternoons came and went in seconds. Xander wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed, but he knew it was enough for little Willow to speak comfortably with Xander. She was showing him the pictures in a National Geographic when a boy came over and smacked the magazine out of her hand. Xander shoved the boy to the ground, where they wrestled. It was the first fight Xander had ever been in and their mothers had to break the angry boys apart.
“I can’t believe that’s how you met Jessie,” Cordelia remarked, watching the irate boys being forced to shake hands by their mothers.
“I don’t remember this, but all that matters is that we became best buds,” Xander replied with a shrug.
With a wave of Cordelia’s hand, time sped up once again, and the pair watched the child versions of Xander, Willow, and Jessie play together, attend school together, and meet for holidays—Halloween being their favorite time of year. The three watched old detective noir films and Scooby-Doo together. They read comic books or flipped through magazines, played doctor and Monopoly, and often listened to music in Willow’s room. They were as thick as thieves, a stark contrast to Xander’s home life.
“You look happy,” Cordelia noted.
“…I was,” Xander admitted, realizing the oppressive parts of his young life that they hadn’t seen yet: his time at home.
“Being with your friends was the only place where you felt you belonged,” Cordelia tentatively observed.
“…Yeah,” Xander’s voice was raspy when he finally did reply. His throat suddenly felt hot and swollen, and there was a pressure on his chest, as though someone was sitting on him.
“Because your home was…”
“…Yeah.”
With a wave of Cordelia’s hand, everything shifted from three children playing tag at recess to the living room of Xander’s home. Just like they had gone through Xander’s happiest moments, they now observed his very worst. Xander crying in the living room while his parents yelled at each other in the kitchen; his incredibly drunk father—who smelled like a distillery—slurring through an unprompted explanation of women too close to Xander’s wincing face; Xander sitting at the dinner table, alone, clutching his stomach and waiting for his parents to return home; finding his mother in her bedroom, crying herself to sleep. She’d often give him advice on women, and if it helped her, he’d listen attentively.
“If you find a girl you like, make sure she doesn’t waste her time on terrible men!” the wailing Jessica told her distraught son as she hugged him desperately.
Xander and Cordelia witnessed ruined birthdays, cheap gifts and clothes, and a much too young Xander crying through much of it.
“Fuck,” teenage-Xander cursed as he turned away from his crying counterpart. The swell of despair nearly broke his control.
A somber Cordelia shifted the environment once again. They were in the living room of Xander’s home. The young Xander was bigger, likely eight or nine years of age. Jessica set the birthday boy in front of the television and turned the dial until a cartoon came on. Dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a red bow tie, little Xander scooted closer to watch She-Ra: Princess of Power as she wielded her sword against demons and flew on her winged unicorn.
“I guess we know where your love of blondes came from,” Cordelia tried to joke, but Xander was deathly focused on his parents in the kitchen. They looked more like he remembered; older, indifferent to their unkempt appearance, and fatter. Just like young Xander, they were dressed to go out as well.
“Tony,” Jessica began as Anthony grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I’m asking you, please don’t bring up anything about Xander’s future. This is his first birthday party with mommy and daddy, and I don’t want you ruining it for him.”
“That’s right, I’m the one who ruins it all,” Anthony sang, twisting the bottle cap off and setting the beer on the table next to the other five. “Crazy, bitch. Don’t start with me, okay? Just don’t,” he warned, taking a long swig. “I’ve been at work all day and I don’t come home to put up with this shit—his birthday or not, you hear me?”
“I’m just asking you—begging you—please avoid drinking and picking a fight with Daddy,” Jessica pleaded. “It’s been five years since we’ve seen them and my mother won’t be able to take the stress. You can’t make a scene, especially around her, or I might never see them again.”
“Why do you always have to put that shit on me?” Anthony yelled. “He’s the fucking asshole that can’t wait to show off his mansion, his cars, the life he can give my son!”
“Exactly!” Jessica yelled. “It’s a better life than this, and if you’d just keep your mouth shut around him, we can all have a better life!”
Slamming his beer on the table, Anthony yelled back, “You don’t need his goddamn money! I provide for us! Me! Can’t you see you don’t need him?! Our lives are infinitely better without him or his fucking plans for my boy!”
“How is this better?!” Jessica yelled, completely fed up with how crazy her husband sounded. “Daddy bought this house for us- no, not us. For me, and my son! You’ve had six jobs in five years and waste most of your checks on drinking every day. You embarrassed me and alienated Xander-”
“I’ve told you a million times not to say that fucking name-”
Jessica spoke over him, yelling, “You alienated him by shameless flirting with the other mothers! Why do you think no one will be his friend?!”
“The fuck are you on about? He’s got plenty of friends,” Anthony retorted, getting angrier. “What’s their names… You know. Those two. Whatever. I swear he’d rather spend all his time with them INSTEAD OF HIS FUCKING PARENTS!”
The heated Anthony threw the bottle against the kitchen wall, sending broken shards of glass everywhere with a loud POP. Xander and Cordelia noticed young-Xander looking behind him. However, the boy didn’t seem to care and returned his attention to the television. The eight-year-old had grown so callous, he simply raised the volume of the cartoon show to drown out his parents’ yelling.
“Tony!” the irate Jessica retorted. “I promise you, if you do anything—anything—to ruin our futures, I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life!”
“Yeah, baby girl,” Anthony sinisterly returned, moving to his wife. “Go ahead and threaten me. Hit me with some divorce papers. Try to take that dumbass in the living room away from me. We all know you wouldn’t last a week out there by yourself. Not with your idiot brain and those weak-ass blowjobs.”
Jessica slapped him in the face. The crisp SMACK echoed into the living room, but little Xander couldn’t hear it. Anthony returned his surprised eyes to his wife’s as she screamed, “Don’t you dare! I’m not, nor will I ever, whore myself for money!”
Anthony only grinned, eying her like a predator as he responded, “Yeah, you are, bitch.” Jessica shook her head as he added, “You’re my whore. And you’re not out there on the streets because you work on my dick!”
Anthony pressed her against the wall and forcibly turned her around. Though she fought back, her efforts were half-hearted, as if stuck between wanting his forceful domination of her and not wanting it.
“No! Wait! Wait, Tony! Not- Not here!” she tried as she shifted against him. “Xander’ll hear-”
“Shhh… He’s watching cartoons,” Anthony assured her, moving her raised skirt out of the way and unzipping his pants. “He won’t hear me fuck! MMmm. His! Mom’s! Slutty! Cunt!”
He emphasized each word with a thrust into the pinned woman. Rather than cry or scream, Jessica moaned blissfully, quickly arching her back and inviting her drunk, aggressive husband to have his way with her.
He kept thrusting into her as he asked, “This is what you want, isn’t it? You fucking freak! This is how you love being treated!” When Jessica remained blissfully silent, Anthony gripped her neck and demanded by her ear, “Say it!”
“This is what I want!” Jessica loudly whispered with her eyes closed. “This is it! It’s… Just fuck me, baby!”
Cordelia didn’t express her disgust. Instead, she turned to Xander, who was focused on his younger counterpart. Young Xander remained oblivious as he watched the tube TV on maximum volume, while his parents took animalistic pleasure from each other against the wall in the kitchen. Young Xander looked zoned out, caring more about what was on the television than in the reality around him. The boy just watched the heroes that he’d always wanted to meet.
Xander and Cordelia watched the Harris family enter his mother’s parents’ mansion, where Xander was having his second birthday party. The event wasn’t with his friends or anyone he knew like his first party. He’d already had a birthday party with Willow, Jessie, his parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins—none of whom were from his mother’s side. This party was strictly with the Harrises, Alexander Sr., and his wife, Anne Leslie, who had been resting upstairs.
The entry hall and nearly every room beyond that were decorated with many blue, silver, and black balloons, streamers, and pennant banners. At the top of the hall was an intricately designed banner that read, ‘Happy Birthday Alexander!’ While little Xander was utterly amazed at the opulence of his second bday bash that week, Anthony Harris eyed the professionally done banner with tremendous aggravation. Jessica eyed her husband and could easily tell he felt incredibly disrespected.
Though little Xander enjoyed the magician, and the small petting zoo—with goats, sheep, bunnies, and a small horse—it was only a matter of time before Anthony blew up. Watching from afar with a drink in his hand, the bitter father kept his anger bottled up as his son enjoyed the remote-controlled trucks and the bottle rockets he excitedly shot into the air, but with every bout of laughter or smile of joy on his son and Alexander’s face, Anthony only became angrier. Jessica tried to placate her husband by showing him around the mansion and promising to leave soon.
It was nearly through the end of dinner when Anne Leslie came downstairs and entered the dining room. It was the first time little Xander had seen someone so sickly. The weak, older woman had no hair on her face, a clear tube under her nose wrapping around her face, and a quilted beanie over her head. Little Xander wondered who the man dressed in white behind her was because he had been wheeling a canister behind the older woman.
Jessica quickly stood up, followed by Alexander, and rushed to her mother, saying, “No, mother! What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting!”
The mother weakly hugged her daughter as she slowly said, “Nonsense. And miss… my grandson’s birthday party? He’s only eight… once.”
“Even still,” Alexander Sr. began, holding his wife up from the other side. “You need your rest more.”
“Just let me… see him… once,” Anne weakly asked, sluggishly looking around the room for the birthday boy. “I may never… be able to… again.”
Pressing her lips firmly together, Jessica’s eyes reddened as she nodded. She turned to her son, wearing his golden crown made of shiny plastic, and drew in her brows, confused at the sight of Anthony whispering something into the birthday boy’s ear.
“Xander, dear,” Jessica called, instantly making Anthony bristle.
The angry father glared at his wife as Xander ran over to his mother. Jessica swallowed nervously before leaning down and placing a comforting palm on her son’s little shoulder. Eight-year-old Xander was slightly apprehensive to stand so close to such a sickly woman, smiling adoringly at him.
“I must look… a fright,” Anne weakly said, trying to fix her wool beanie.
“Nonsense,” Alexander said, eying her with affection. “You look as beautiful as the day we met.”
“Xander,” Jessica softly said. “You might not remember meeting her, but this is my mother, your grandmother, Anne Leslie Garlington.”
“Oh, just… call me… Grandma Anne,” the sickly woman requested. “It’s such a pleasure… to meet you… my boy.”
Young Xander seemed nervous and turned back to look at his father. Jessica, Alexander, teenage-Xander, and Cordelia saw the man nod to his son, who returned his attention to his grandmother.
“D-Dad said you got sick on purpose to get away from your husband,” Little Xander remarked. “He said you’d rather die than be with him. Is that true? Cuz that’s kinda crazy.”
From across the room, they all heard Anthony burst into barrels of laughter. He smacked the table, holding his gut as he laughed, and to be able to make his father laugh, little Xander smiled. Before Alexander could admonish the repugnant father, Anne Leslie’s knees gave out. If her husband hadn’t been holding her, she would’ve fallen to the floor.
“Take her back to her room,” Alexander ordered the nurse.
Jessica quickly wrapped Xander in her arms and left the room with him as Anne was carried out. Teenage Xander and Cordelia watched Alexander rush the laughing father, grab him by the collar, and punch him in the face. However angry the man was, he was still old, and thus, his attack had little effect on the inebriated man. Anthony pushed him off, and the elderly man hit the edge of the table before falling to the floor. Alexander hoisted himself to his feet before jumping on top of the man and punching him in the face.
Jessica ran in and screamed at Anthony to get off of her father. She pulled at her husband’s shoulder with all her might, and after an arduous struggle, Anthony pushed her off and got up. Alexander rolled over, disoriented and wincing in obvious pain. He was bleeding from his nose while Anthony laughed.
“That’s what you get, you miserable old bastard!” the drunk Anthony yelled. “God, I always wanted to do that!”
“G-Get out,” Alexander yelled from the floor.
“Daddy-”
“Get OUT!” he yelled, directed toward his daughter.
“Daddy, please!” a crying Jessica called, trying to help the older man up. “Please, let me help-”
Alexander smacked her hand away, yelling, “LEAVE! You, that filth you call a husband, and his ilk are no longer welcome here!”
“Please don’t say that,” Jessica cried, getting on her knees in front of her father. “Don’t throw your only daughter out!”
“You did it to yourself!” he yelled. “After everything we’ve given you, you chose a man like that! You forsake your parents—who gave you everything—and now your son’s future, for that. I once held you against my bosom and vowed to protect you, but I’ve failed. You’re dead to me, daughter. To have lost you and my grandson… such sadness.”
“Come on,” a drunk Anthony said, pulling Jessica’s elbow.
However, she threw herself onto her father, begging with tears streaming down her face. “It doesn’t have to be like that!” she screamed. “I’ll divorce him! I’ll divorce him! You never have to see him again! I promise!”
“Fucking bitch,” Anthony cursed, though chuckling. To teenage-Xander, the inebriated man seemed proud of what he’d done. “Come on, babe. Let’s go.”
“NO!” Jessica yelled.
Alexander looked at his weeping daughter’s face and shook his head, stating, “He’s already tainted the boy. I’m using the last of my energy to care for your mother. Just as our words of warning never reached you, never reach out to us again. Now get out of my home, and live the bitter life you’ve chosen.”
“Noooo!” the frantic woman yelled.
To Teenage Xander, his mother had lost all grasp of sanity as she continued screaming to stay. Anthony pulled Jessica as Alexander forced her grip off of him. She begged with all her might, but Anthony dragged her away. Alexander was nearly out of her sight when she screamed, “I’LL LEAVE THEM BOTH! YOU WERE RIGHT! You were right! I’ll leave them both for you! JUST DON’T ABANDON ME, DADDY, PLEASE! PLEASE, DON’T ABANDON ME! I CAN’T STAY IN THAT HOUSE! I CAN’T! I WON’T MAKE IT! I’LL LEAVE TONY! I’LL LEAVE XANDER! JUST TAKE ME WITH YOU AND MOMMY, PLEEEEEAAASSE!”
Teenage Xander dropped to his knees and couldn’t stop the massive amount of tears he’d been holding back from pouring from his red-rimmed eyes. His face was burning, his throat felt swollen—as if stuffed with a golf ball—and his weakened body was shaking like a leaf. A woeful Cordelia kneeled beside him, rubbing his back, but all Xander could focus on was his screaming mother frantically promising to leave her husband and son to stay with her parents and their lifestyle.
“M-Mom?” a sweet innocent voice called.
Alexander, Anthony, and Cordelia turned to the eight-year-old Xander, standing in the room, clutching the door frame and watching the dramatic event with his large brown eyes in ever-growing concern. Jessica and older-Xander couldn’t look at the boy, who they imagined was confused, scared, traumatized, and crying.
“Wait for us outside, boy,” Anthony ordered as he kept pulling on the frantic woman. “Go on!”
Alexander Sr. eyed the young Xander one last time before shaking his head and leaving. Though the scenery changed, Xander remained on the floor, crying freely as he heard his parents’ muffled argument from child-Xander’s bedroom. The boy couldn’t sleep and stared at his ceiling.
“You’ve ruined it!” Jessica’s muffled voice yelled. “Father would’ve taken me back! Taken us back if you weren’t so fucking useless!”
“Useless, am I?” Anthony happily returned. “He left you. You have nothing, and no one, but me. So, who’s really the useless one here?”
“I never should’ve married you,” the broken woman sadly concluded. “If I’d listened to my father… If I’d just done what he asked of me… I would’ve been married to Carmichael! He would’ve taken care of me! Given me a luxury home! A maid! A son who’s not a worthless idiot like his worthless father! I would’ve been happy!”
“Sucks for Carmichael,” Anthony laughed. Eying her rear end, he added, “That ass belongs to me now!”
In the morning, both Xanders and Cordelia saw Jessica sleeping on the couch with bottles of beer and liquor around her. The observers knew she had changed after that night, and they watched as the young boy helped his drunk mother to bed. Jessica Harris had become sullen, and drank every night. Both parents had to work to keep up with their alcoholic habit, leaving Xander to his own devices. The young boy watched TV, played with his friends, or dealt with his parents’ bouts of alcohol-fueled fights.
Young Xander tried to care for his mother like she had always cared for him, but she stopped responding with love and kindness. The young boy truly knew she had changed when they went to the water park. They had gone many times during the summer of ‘94. Xander had made friends with a cat that he fed regularly.
He presented his mother with the cute, purring feline, boasting, “I promise I’ll take care of it, and love it, and-and feed it! He really wants a home and no one’ll love him more than me! So, so, can we keep him? Please?”
Jessica Harris callously grabbed the cat and threw it against the wall. After a pain-filled meow and a THUD, little Xander screamed, and tried to reach his furry friend, but his mother held him still. Xander tried to pull away because his cat wasn’t moving, but Jessica shook him until the fearful boy looked at her.
She calmly asked, “Do you think you’re a hero? You think you can save every stray that comes asking for help? Because you can’t! No one will save you! No one will save that poor cat, no matter how much it wants to live a better life!” Though the mother’s eyes were filled with tears, they wouldn’t spill. Moreover, she looked angry as she added, “Those comics you love to read are a lie. Heroes don’t exist, boy. Use people for what you need, then drop them like I did that cat, because this world is filled with villains. Not heroes.”
Jessica slapped him hard in the face—so he’d remember—then walked off. Though young Xander appeared as if he wanted to cry, he clenched his little hands and refused to do so. The few tears that spilled over, he roughly wiped away with his forearm, and then rushed over to the cat. It seemed to be alive, but he couldn’t be sure. The young preteen gently picked it up and rushed it to the water park’s medical center. After handing the injured animal to them, he never saw the cat again.
Cordelia then displayed many flashes of young Xander with his mother.
“You know how much mommy loves you?” the drunk Jessica asked her son. He was trying to pick her up off the muddy ground of the backyard and escort the filthy woman to her bedroom’s bathroom. “Tell mmme-me a joke,” she slurred. “Girlss love it when you-you make ‘em laugh.”
Trying to pull the heavy woman by her arm, little Xander called out, “Come on, Mom. Jeez, you smell!”
“You don’ like your mother thisss way?” she asked as she slowly got up on uncoordinated legs. They nearly fell over as his drunk mother insisted, “Well… blame yer fffather for that. I ssmelled great! I used to be kind… c-caring… I loved life an-and evvveryone in it.” Tears were welling up as she added, “I wasss innocent… until I met your father… and was lied to… ssseduced with sso… much… passion.”
When they reached the kitchen, Jessica pushed her son off, and his side hit the sharp countertop. She didn’t notice as she grabbed another bottle from the fridge and began drinking again. “He turned me… into thisss,” she called, raising her green bottle, but the injured Xander didn’t care. The dizzy boy left the room as she yelled after him. “That’s what happensss when you fffall in love wiff toxic, asshole men! All that love… jus… just disssappears!! Gone!!”
Cordelia continued shifting through the rest of Xander’s life. When young Xander was older and Anthony couldn’t verbally dominate him easily, he resorted to physical violence to teach his son. Jessica had long stopped caring, and Xander grew accustomed to the way of life. While he was outside of his house, he’d joke and have fun with his friends—often argue with Cordelia—and when he was at home, he’d stay in his room—joyfully watching TV or reading comic books, but always fantasizing about heroes—and only came out to eat or prevent his drunk parents from falling asleep outside.
“Humor shares similarities with trauma,” Cordelia narrated as she watched a teenage Xander focus on learning Klingon in his room.
These were the moments of his childhood that Xander could easily recall and didn’t need Cordelia to show him. He hadn’t recalled his grandparents or that birthday party, and those new-found memories made Xander feel more hollow than anything the time braid had done to him. He couldn’t stop crying, and eventually stopped trying to prevent the tears. Silent, with a face vacant of all emotion, Xander remained seated with his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around them.
When Cordelia’s glowing hand touched his face, Xander finally paid attention. She was seated right in front of him, and they were back in present-day Sunnydale. Looking around, Xander noted that not only was it Halloween night, but also that it was exactly 6:00 PM. After looping so many times, he recognized the exact moment the Janus chaos curse began.
“Hey,” Cordelia softly called. Xander returned his attention to her as she said, “We obviously form attachments with parents and friends from infancy to our adolescent years. Rather than caring for you and your well-being—like the many examples you saw on TV—your parents used you: your father did it to keep your mother, and your mother did to regain the easy and luxurious lifestyle she once lived.”
Having seen what he’d long forgotten, Xander felt her words burn into his very soul.
“You replaced parental attachments with an even stronger attachment to your friends,” she continued. “Hell, even me.” Cordelia showed Xander memories of himself, Willow, Jessie, and sometimes Cordelia playing in the park’s playground. They were truly happier times, and little Xander had the biggest smiles when he was with them. “You shared yourself with them and they accepted you as their dorky, funny friend. They quickly became your everything. Then Buffy came along, and upon meeting a real-life hero, that attachment only grew.”
The memories shifted to a collage of instances where Xander would watch Buffy from afar or even when they were hanging out and no one was paying attention to him. “She cared about you like her nice and funny friend, and because you loved her so much, you put her at the top of the attachment heap. It would be nearly impossible for you to leave her—not your hero.”
Xander saw so many instances where he would put everything down to be with his friends, especially Buffy. Saw himself agonizing at the sight of Buffy and Angel together, and forcing himself to accept their relationship—despite his feelings for her—because he’d rather not lose her.
“Your entire life wasn’t driven by positive self-expression or a healthy sharing of love,” she explained. “But to ensure your friends—basically your adopted family—never left or abandoned you like your parents had. So, you held onto the nice funny guy routine, like your life depended on it. You never strayed, never pursued your own dreams, and never doubted if that mindset was for the best, because you knew you’d have nothing and no one without them. That scared you more than fighting monsters or being seen as an incompetent man, and I’m fairly sure this is why you’re looping.”
“Just… because of that?” his raspy voice barely got out.
“Just that? We’re talking about the full scope of how you see yourself!” she emphasized. “It’s why you took the meaning of ‘Zeppo’ the wrong way. I used it to attack you, but it wasn’t wrong until you twisted the meaning to fit a false identity.”
“H-how else was I supposed to take that?”
“Even if Zeppo Marx was considered the most unexceptional one in the group, his participation elevated his brothers’ performance. Zeppo may not have been as busy as his brothers, but they functioned the absolute best together, as a quartet.” Xander thought of his most important friends: Buffy, Willow, and Giles. “From the outside looking in, you would appear as nothing special beside Willow, Buffy, and even Giles. But from within your network of friends, you were keeping up with legends while only being human. Unless you think a regular human could battle beside the Slayer—one of the biggest magnets for evil on the planet—for forty to fifty years and survive.”
“Giles-”
“Was trained in strategy, and combat. He has deep knowledge of demons & lore, can perform magic, and isn’t in the thick of the fight as often as you are,” she effortlessly interjected. “You had no training; never became a magician; never gained any powers, and became nothing more than a carpenter. And you still kept up.”
“No, no. I led missions-”
“Yeah, I know you became a commander or whatever,” she interjected, waving her hand and showing memories of when Xander was the commander of the Slayer organization. “But that was way, way after high school, and you didn’t do it for long. That wasn’t supposed to be your life, Xander. With my celestial sight, I can actually see how much more you were meant for, but your trauma and subsequent chronic attachment syndrome wouldn’t allow you to become what you needed to be for fear of losing them. You were meant to help elevate your friends in ways no one else could, but you actively forced yourself to remain an idiot for so long, you couldn’t live without it.”
“I… I…”
“Now, you’re stuck in a time braid and have no choice,” she reminded him. “That’s what this specialized prison is for: a realignment of destinies. Even if you’re meant to be the Zeppo, you’re supposed to be the best damn Zeppo that ever existed! If there was a support center for heroes, you’d be the number one employee ten years running. You’re supposed to be a hero’s hero, Xander. But that’s never going to happen unless you change… unless you let that trauma go.”
Xander stared at her with a fearful gaze, feeling his chest swell until it hurt from what she was asking of him.
“You gotta let go of this idea that you’ll end up alone if you challenge your friends and family,” she gently told him, resting her hands on his shoulders and staring deep into his eyes. “They’re not going to leave you or use you like your parents did just because you stand up to them, or if you tell them you want to be treated better. You know that, already. How many more years of repetition do you need before you finally believe it? Like, now that I think about it, how dense are you?”
“Is this your idea of inspiration?” an ashen-faced Xander woefully asked. “Cuz you should know, it feels a lot like the time I shot myself in the head.”
“There’s that deflective wit again,” Cordelia pointed out, refusing to let his attempt to distract win.
“I don’t know how to do what you’re asking me to do, okay?!” he yelled. “You made me see all of that… And I hated it… every disgusting second of it… but what’s changed, Cor?”
“Your parents shaped you, sure,” Cordelia admitted. “But the piece that you’re missing is: why you’re nowhere near as bad as you could’ve been. The jealous hatred from your father. The regret and insecurity from your mother. You had the makings of a monster, Xander. But instead of embracing evil and quitting on the world, you never gave up on a better future for yourself—because that’s the heart of who you are. Not only are you inherently good, but you’re a fighter, or you never would’ve survived that home with as good of a heart as you did.”
“…I don’t see that,” a tearful Xander weakly admitted. “All I can see is what they did—the dumb, dark mess they left behind.”
Cordelia hugged the boy, holding him with such loving strength as she assured him, “It’s there, Xander. You’ve always trusted me, and I’m telling you, it’s there. You just have to trust yourself. Just be you—the real you.”
“Who is that?” the sobbing boy with the red face pitifully asked. “It’s not Nox. It’s not the first-round version of me that put them on a pedestal. I feel like I’ve never met this real me.”
“I know,” she sadly agreed, gently caressing the back of his head. “But you will. And you’re going to love him. He’s the guy we all can’t wait to meet. The guy that can stand shoulder to shoulder with Buffy, and Willow, and all the great people walking the Earth because you’re made of the same stuff.”
Xander had nothing left to ask—no words left in him to speak—and simply hugged one of the best people he’d ever met, crying horribly on her celestial shoulders. Cordelia held him for as long as he needed to let it all out—all the pain, judgment, embarrassment, abandonment, and crippling fear. He cried it all out until there was nothing left.
When he finally settled down, Cordelia gently asked, “Better?”
“…Thanks, Cor,” he slowly huffed, sniffing as he stepped away.
“No need to thank me,” she replied with her beaming smile. “It’s sort of what I do now.”
“Still, thank you.”
She shrugged happily before telling him, “Just a friendly reminder: you’ll only remember this after you’ve hit rock bottom. Only then will you move on with these memories.”
“That’s why the costume didn’t work on you that time?” Xander asked.
“Well, they sorta did, but only of my choosing,” Cordelia replied. “I noticed Willow enticed magical energies to be attracted to your soul pattern.” Touching Xander’s forehead with the tips of her glowing index and middle fingers, she stated, “I’ll add something a little more celestial. Nothing crazy, mind you. Just some runes and a bigger level of attraction. It’ll help a normie like you keep up.”
Xander could feel an electric pressure vibrate his brain, making him wince as she imprinted knowledge of Celestial runes for forging and body armor directly into his brain. Oddly, they were and weren’t familiar to him, as if remembering something extremely important.
Removing her fingers, she continued, “Before I go, you should know, I want you to know that I’m always destined to end up here—as a Higher Being, I mean.” Xander looked at her, uncertain of what that meant. She smiled as she added, “It’s better this way.”
Still confused, he tried to say, “I don’t understand-”
“I guess that’s all the time we have,” she sadly interjected.
“Wait,” he called, taking her hand before she could leave him. “I…”
“It’s okay, Xander,” she said with a gentle smile. “I believe in you.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Xander weakly said, feeling the tears once again flow.
“Just be you. That’ll be more than enough,” the smiling beauty finished before fading away.
Xander snapped upright, waking in his dirty bed. He could tell it was October 31st, 1997 by the state and smell of his room. Though he still felt mentally strained from over a century of loops, he couldn’t believe those memories were locked inside his head all that time, and it took shooting himself in the head to remember. Xander huffed, humored but also in disbelief.
Turning to his window, the sun over the horizon, for the first time in a long time, Xander felt hopeful—well and truly hopeful for a better future. His eyes burned with growing moisture as he felt anticipation for actually greeting the fully realized version of himself—the one that made all the difference in the world. Without a moment to lose, he exited his room.
Thinking deeply of Cordelia’s show and tell as he made his way to Ethan’s Costume Shop, Xander knew who he needed to be moving forward.