synapticjava (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
synapticjava) wrote2005-02-11 12:45 am
synapticjava) wrote2005-02-11 12:45 am
Fic Update: Kin to Sorrow, Session Two
Title: Kin to Sorrow, Session Two
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocgood84
Rating: R overall for now
Notes: Xander goes into counseling after the Hellmouth has been destroyed. Spoilers through Chosen.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, don’t sue
“Okay, Xander,” the man said, crossing his legs and slipping his glasses on. Grabbing the pen and pad of paper on the side table, he assumed the Freudian position. “Last time you told me about a recurring dream that you’ve been experiencing. Now over the last week, I’ve made my notes on what I believe is happening, but first I want to find out what your interpretation is.”
Xander sank back into the leather couch, deciding that he wouldn’t be intimidated or nervous this time. He was here for help, and the man wanted to help, so why not let him, right?
“You don’t have your ‘Crazy’ stamp anywhere in reach, do you?” Xander asked, laughing nervously.
“Beg your pardon?” The man asked, a sour look on his face.
“Uh, never mind. Right, dream,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Well, I think it’s basically that I’ve linked everything in my life being destroyed to Spike. And that’s why I tell him I love him – he makes me leave it behind. Was the only way I could get…over it.”
The man stopped scribbling and tapped his pen against the pad, considering the idea with a sketchy gaze.
“Interesting,” he said. “Can I ask you a question, though?”
“Go for it, Doc,” Xander replied, uneasiness taking residence in his stomach.
“If the reason ‘Spike’ is present is because he helps you move on – why would you still dream about it?”
“I-” Xander hmphed. The man had a point, he realized. Okay, back to the drawing board.
“Mm-hmm,” the doctor huffed.
A few minutes passed in silence as the doctor scrawled some more notes.
“Alright. Now, Xander, I’d like to step away from the dream for a bit, okay?” Xander nodded. “Good. Now, I’d like to ask about your childhood if that’s alright. Can you tell me what your relationship was like with your parents?”
Xander gave a mental ‘Ugh!’ and a shiver at remembering them.
“Not much to tell really. Dad drank a lot, and Mom tried to keep up with him,” Xander said bitterly.
“Uh huh, and how did this impact you?” Scribble, scrawl, scratching as the pen bled onto the paper. The doctor was writing faster than Xander could think.
“Well, he got…mad a lot. Never touched me – Mom always, well, intercepted everything.” Xander’s voice was small, and he felt about seven years old again and had just gotten Playdough stuck in the carpet.
“So your father was…violent towards your mother?” Page flip, more notes.
“Only when he drank,” Xander joked, the sour taste of bitter anger and useless remorse filling his mouth.
“Uh huh. But you saw him physically abuse her?” Scratch scratch.
“Couple times, yeah. I used to feel guilty about it. You know, felt like it was my fault she was getting hit. But now I know it was his fault. We never – never did anything.” Xander felt the heat on his face before he realized he was crying softly. Felt the shallow intakes of breath before he realized he was sobbing. He’d only told one person in his life about this, and now she was…gone. Just like everyone.
“Xander, it’s good that you understand that. Your father had a psychological problem, and an apparent addiction. You’re in no way responsible for-”
“Didn’t I just say that, Doc?” Xander snapped at the man.
“Yes. Yes, you did. I just want to you to understand-”
“Look. I’m going to make this easy and sum it up for you okay? My dad was an asshole who liked to booze and bitchslap when he wasn’t puking or shouting at me for something. Wasn’t the greatest childhood, I get that. But I know it’s not my fault and I know I didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I’ve dealt with that. I – I’m not a kind anymore, you know?” Xander slumped against the back of the couch again, leather creaking and crunching under the shift in weight.
“Alright, Xander,” scratch scratch. “Do you still…talk with them?”
“They – they didn’t make it out of Sunnydale. I tried to get Mom to leave him, but she wouldn’t. I called them that morning, telling her she needed to get out before something…happened. She just wouldn’t go – ” Xander was crying again, the anger melting to sadness. She had at least tried, even if it was long ago, even if it wasn’t enough. She’d tried, and that meant more to him than all the chocolate and Kung Fu movies in the world.
“Uh huh. And did you feel…responsible?” He asked with pen tap and page flip.
“What? No. I mean, maybe at first, but then I realized she’d never leave. She wasn’t, she couldn’t – she just wouldn’t.” The tears continued to flow, but it finally felt nice. He’d never actually grieved. He just did what he always did – joked and moved on, storing it away in a box that he never wanted to open.
“What were her last words to you, Xander?”
“‘I love you, Xander. No matter what happens, you’re my brave little boy. Despite everything that’s happened, Xander, I’m proud of you. I love you.’” And now he couldn’t breathe at all, gasping in between sobs and expulsions of hot breath. “It – was – the – only time she – she’s said that.”
“Uh huh.” SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRIBBLE.
A few minutes passed with neither man saying anything as the doctor continued to write away in a feverish blur of page flips and scripted letters. Finally, Xander’s breath fell to normal as his tears seemed to cease.
“I’m afraid that time has come again, Xander,” the man said, taking off his glasses and setting it on top of the tablet he laid on the table.
Xander only nodded, wiping away the streaks on his face with his sleeve as he stood. Quick flash of a smile and he was herded towards the door.
“Next week then, alright?” The doctor asked, seemingly out of place without his stupid notepad.
Xander nodded again, his throat hoarse and raw from the burst damn of emotion, and left the office, waving as the receptionist said good-bye.
Author:
chocgood84Rating: R overall for now
Notes: Xander goes into counseling after the Hellmouth has been destroyed. Spoilers through Chosen.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, don’t sue
“Okay, Xander,” the man said, crossing his legs and slipping his glasses on. Grabbing the pen and pad of paper on the side table, he assumed the Freudian position. “Last time you told me about a recurring dream that you’ve been experiencing. Now over the last week, I’ve made my notes on what I believe is happening, but first I want to find out what your interpretation is.”
Xander sank back into the leather couch, deciding that he wouldn’t be intimidated or nervous this time. He was here for help, and the man wanted to help, so why not let him, right?
“You don’t have your ‘Crazy’ stamp anywhere in reach, do you?” Xander asked, laughing nervously.
“Beg your pardon?” The man asked, a sour look on his face.
“Uh, never mind. Right, dream,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Well, I think it’s basically that I’ve linked everything in my life being destroyed to Spike. And that’s why I tell him I love him – he makes me leave it behind. Was the only way I could get…over it.”
The man stopped scribbling and tapped his pen against the pad, considering the idea with a sketchy gaze.
“Interesting,” he said. “Can I ask you a question, though?”
“Go for it, Doc,” Xander replied, uneasiness taking residence in his stomach.
“If the reason ‘Spike’ is present is because he helps you move on – why would you still dream about it?”
“I-” Xander hmphed. The man had a point, he realized. Okay, back to the drawing board.
“Mm-hmm,” the doctor huffed.
A few minutes passed in silence as the doctor scrawled some more notes.
“Alright. Now, Xander, I’d like to step away from the dream for a bit, okay?” Xander nodded. “Good. Now, I’d like to ask about your childhood if that’s alright. Can you tell me what your relationship was like with your parents?”
Xander gave a mental ‘Ugh!’ and a shiver at remembering them.
“Not much to tell really. Dad drank a lot, and Mom tried to keep up with him,” Xander said bitterly.
“Uh huh, and how did this impact you?” Scribble, scrawl, scratching as the pen bled onto the paper. The doctor was writing faster than Xander could think.
“Well, he got…mad a lot. Never touched me – Mom always, well, intercepted everything.” Xander’s voice was small, and he felt about seven years old again and had just gotten Playdough stuck in the carpet.
“So your father was…violent towards your mother?” Page flip, more notes.
“Only when he drank,” Xander joked, the sour taste of bitter anger and useless remorse filling his mouth.
“Uh huh. But you saw him physically abuse her?” Scratch scratch.
“Couple times, yeah. I used to feel guilty about it. You know, felt like it was my fault she was getting hit. But now I know it was his fault. We never – never did anything.” Xander felt the heat on his face before he realized he was crying softly. Felt the shallow intakes of breath before he realized he was sobbing. He’d only told one person in his life about this, and now she was…gone. Just like everyone.
“Xander, it’s good that you understand that. Your father had a psychological problem, and an apparent addiction. You’re in no way responsible for-”
“Didn’t I just say that, Doc?” Xander snapped at the man.
“Yes. Yes, you did. I just want to you to understand-”
“Look. I’m going to make this easy and sum it up for you okay? My dad was an asshole who liked to booze and bitchslap when he wasn’t puking or shouting at me for something. Wasn’t the greatest childhood, I get that. But I know it’s not my fault and I know I didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I’ve dealt with that. I – I’m not a kind anymore, you know?” Xander slumped against the back of the couch again, leather creaking and crunching under the shift in weight.
“Alright, Xander,” scratch scratch. “Do you still…talk with them?”
“They – they didn’t make it out of Sunnydale. I tried to get Mom to leave him, but she wouldn’t. I called them that morning, telling her she needed to get out before something…happened. She just wouldn’t go – ” Xander was crying again, the anger melting to sadness. She had at least tried, even if it was long ago, even if it wasn’t enough. She’d tried, and that meant more to him than all the chocolate and Kung Fu movies in the world.
“Uh huh. And did you feel…responsible?” He asked with pen tap and page flip.
“What? No. I mean, maybe at first, but then I realized she’d never leave. She wasn’t, she couldn’t – she just wouldn’t.” The tears continued to flow, but it finally felt nice. He’d never actually grieved. He just did what he always did – joked and moved on, storing it away in a box that he never wanted to open.
“What were her last words to you, Xander?”
“‘I love you, Xander. No matter what happens, you’re my brave little boy. Despite everything that’s happened, Xander, I’m proud of you. I love you.’” And now he couldn’t breathe at all, gasping in between sobs and expulsions of hot breath. “It – was – the – only time she – she’s said that.”
“Uh huh.” SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRIBBLE.
A few minutes passed with neither man saying anything as the doctor continued to write away in a feverish blur of page flips and scripted letters. Finally, Xander’s breath fell to normal as his tears seemed to cease.
“I’m afraid that time has come again, Xander,” the man said, taking off his glasses and setting it on top of the tablet he laid on the table.
Xander only nodded, wiping away the streaks on his face with his sleeve as he stood. Quick flash of a smile and he was herded towards the door.
“Next week then, alright?” The doctor asked, seemingly out of place without his stupid notepad.
Xander nodded again, his throat hoarse and raw from the burst damn of emotion, and left the office, waving as the receptionist said good-bye.
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