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synapticjava Feb. 20th, 2005 04:19 pm)
synapticjava Feb. 20th, 2005 04:19 pm)Title: Kin to Sorrow, Session Four – The End of a Dream
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocgood84
Rating: NC-17 for language
Notes: Xander goes into counseling after the Hellmouth has been destroyed. Spoilers through Chosen.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, don’t sue
“Listen, Doc. I gotta say; your dream theory was sooooo not right.” Xander said smugly as he dropped himself on the familiar plush of leather and mahogany.
“Oh?” The doctor asked, taking his position in the chair and picking up the oh-so-not-annoying tablet of paper from the table.
“Nope. I’m still having the dreams and they’re still bugging the hell out of me. Looks like you’re wrong – don’t suppose I can get a refund?”
“Uh, no. I’m afraid not…” The doctor clucked his tongue against his teeth, looking for all the world as if he’d been cornered in a bullpen.
“So what now…guess it’s back to the ’ole shrink wrapping board, eh?” Xander couldn’t help being so snarky; he finally felt like he held the upper hand for a change.
Despite the twinge of bitter disgust that flashed quickly through his face, the doctor held his composure.
“No. No, I don’t think so, Xander. I still believe my theory is correct. There must be something you are not telling me.” Desperation filled the doctor’s wire-rimmed eyes. Desperation and something vaguely…disturbing to Xander.
“Well maybe you could let me know what it is that I’m not telling you? Because you should know – you’re the only person that knows about Spike at all. Er, at least my feelings for him,” Xander admitted. “I didn’t even realize them until last week after our session. Didn’t even notice when I admitted to loving him. But you know what? That’s the one thing you were right about.”
Xander realized as the words were tumbling out of his mouth that they would be like bait for a piranha – and the fish were hungry today.
“There, you see!” The doctor exclaimed, practically jumping out the armchair that was almost, but not quite, as pompous as he was.
“Not as good as I used to. You know, cause of my pirate eye,” Xander said sarcastically. And maybe that made him feel just a little bit more like the old Xander, the one before Sunnydale went down.
The doctor merely rolled his eyes and crossed his legs again. His Prada black and white wingtips were dangling close enough for Xander to spit his chewing gum on. If he wanted to, that is.
“You know what I mean, Xander,” Doc said fiercely. “The fact that you have now acknowledged your love for Spike brings you that much closer to acknowledging the link between him and your father.”
“You know-”
“I do, actually. That’s why you pay me, isn’t it?” Obviously, the man had never had a client who knew how to bluff his way through Kitten Poker.
“It is – and I’m starting to think that I’m getting robbed,” Xander countered, arching the eyebrow over his good eye, waiting for the man to lose his cool.
“I – ”he began, but stopped just short of saying something he’d regret, or something that could lose a hundred bucks an hour.
“Hmm?” Xander asked, coy and innocent.
“Never mind. What I’m saying, Xander, is that for you the two men are one and the same. Psychologically, that is. You’re never going to get over those nightmares until you aknowledge that fact. Don’t you want to be healthy of mind?”
“Hmm…difficult question, Doc. On the one hand, I can be crazy and think that my dreams are about the fact that I feel guilty because a man I actually loved died for me and saved the world. Or, I can be ‘healthy’ and take your view that I feel guilty because a man I really never cared about killed himself…Decisions, decisions, so many decisions. ‘Who shall decide when doctors disagree?’”
“Only you can make that decision, Xander. But I strongly urge that you take my advice – you need help, Xander. And if you don’t deal with this now, you’re lible to lose touch with reality –”
“Reality? Funny thing, that.” Xander wondered aloud. Suddenly he was feeling much better than he had in a long time.
“How so?” Nervousness plauged the doctor’s composure. Not quite as well-bred as one might have though afterall?
“See – your version of reality is one in which everyone has the option of explanation. In your perfect textbook world, everyone can find the answer to questions inside of them. In my world, Doc; in the world of Hellmouths and burning lovers? S’not so easy. Where I come from, there are things that can’t be explained and no amount of vengence demons or Krispy Kremes and self-reflection can help you unlock anything but a dusty crypt filled with stolen furniture and spliced cable…”
“Xander…I think perhaps there may be more at work here than just your dreams. Don’t you think it strange –”
“You know, you’d think I would?” Xander remarked, deciding that the doctor probably would think it’s strange, the world he grew up in. “But let me tell you, from one pirate to another – there’s no such thing as normal and nothing’s strange once you’ve seen everything twice and saved the world a few hundred times.”
“Xander, I really think-” he tried again, unsuccessful once more.
“Maybe that’s your problem, Doc. You think too much. Me? I think I’ll stick to dreams and hope that some day the Powers that Be will let me in on their secret.”
With that, Xander got up from the couch and made to leave, when the doctor’s question stopped him. He turned to face the man holding a stupid yellow tablet and the face of someone in shock.
“I believe this means you’re cancelling your therapy? You’re just going to not deal with anything and live in denial?”
“Actually, I think denial’s been pretty good to me.”
“You’re obviously in dire need of help, young man. I would like you to come back next week, and we’ll see if we can begin again. I’ll keep your regular time slot –”
“Tell you what, why don’t keep my hour free. I won’t be here, but you can use the time to fuck yourself with your fucking legal pad. You know, I don’t think therapy’s working out for me.” With that, Xander left the office, smiling brightly at the entirely too-cheerful receptionist.
Spike nods but all he says is : “Thank you. Now go, love, get out while you can!”
Xander looks down, and their hands are on fire. But it doesn’t burn anymore. It feels…right. That light surrounding Spike gets brighter and brighter, and Xander can’t see anything. Brighter, whiter, and –
Xander awoke, sitting up in his bed in a dark and lonely apartment. His entire body glistened in the moonlight as sweat cascaded down his body like Niagara on Speed.
He sat there a moment, panting and listening to the silence. Only his shallow breathing, only his rapidly beating heart.
“Xander, you’re going crazy. Stupid psychiatrist – what does he know?” Xander mumbled, pulling himself out of the bed that was wet with sweat. He groggily rubbed at his eyes, trying to get them to adjust to the darkness.
Tripping and stumbling, he made his way into the kitchenette of his closet-sized studio apartment. The dream had made him sweat out any water in his body, and his mouth felt like cotton – tasted like landfill.
He opened the refrigerator, wincing at the bright white that seared against his eyes. He reached for the bottle of distilled water but froze as he felt a solid cold hand on his shoulder.
Before he could turn, he heard a voice that sent a dead tingle through his body:
“Hello, love. Miss me?” Spike asked.
The end....
or is it?
Quotation on decisions from Alexander Pope
Author:
chocgood84Rating: NC-17 for language
Notes: Xander goes into counseling after the Hellmouth has been destroyed. Spoilers through Chosen.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, don’t sue
“Listen, Doc. I gotta say; your dream theory was sooooo not right.” Xander said smugly as he dropped himself on the familiar plush of leather and mahogany.
“Oh?” The doctor asked, taking his position in the chair and picking up the oh-so-not-annoying tablet of paper from the table.
“Nope. I’m still having the dreams and they’re still bugging the hell out of me. Looks like you’re wrong – don’t suppose I can get a refund?”
“Uh, no. I’m afraid not…” The doctor clucked his tongue against his teeth, looking for all the world as if he’d been cornered in a bullpen.
“So what now…guess it’s back to the ’ole shrink wrapping board, eh?” Xander couldn’t help being so snarky; he finally felt like he held the upper hand for a change.
Despite the twinge of bitter disgust that flashed quickly through his face, the doctor held his composure.
“No. No, I don’t think so, Xander. I still believe my theory is correct. There must be something you are not telling me.” Desperation filled the doctor’s wire-rimmed eyes. Desperation and something vaguely…disturbing to Xander.
“Well maybe you could let me know what it is that I’m not telling you? Because you should know – you’re the only person that knows about Spike at all. Er, at least my feelings for him,” Xander admitted. “I didn’t even realize them until last week after our session. Didn’t even notice when I admitted to loving him. But you know what? That’s the one thing you were right about.”
Xander realized as the words were tumbling out of his mouth that they would be like bait for a piranha – and the fish were hungry today.
“There, you see!” The doctor exclaimed, practically jumping out the armchair that was almost, but not quite, as pompous as he was.
“Not as good as I used to. You know, cause of my pirate eye,” Xander said sarcastically. And maybe that made him feel just a little bit more like the old Xander, the one before Sunnydale went down.
The doctor merely rolled his eyes and crossed his legs again. His Prada black and white wingtips were dangling close enough for Xander to spit his chewing gum on. If he wanted to, that is.
“You know what I mean, Xander,” Doc said fiercely. “The fact that you have now acknowledged your love for Spike brings you that much closer to acknowledging the link between him and your father.”
“You know-”
“I do, actually. That’s why you pay me, isn’t it?” Obviously, the man had never had a client who knew how to bluff his way through Kitten Poker.
“It is – and I’m starting to think that I’m getting robbed,” Xander countered, arching the eyebrow over his good eye, waiting for the man to lose his cool.
“I – ”he began, but stopped just short of saying something he’d regret, or something that could lose a hundred bucks an hour.
“Hmm?” Xander asked, coy and innocent.
“Never mind. What I’m saying, Xander, is that for you the two men are one and the same. Psychologically, that is. You’re never going to get over those nightmares until you aknowledge that fact. Don’t you want to be healthy of mind?”
“Hmm…difficult question, Doc. On the one hand, I can be crazy and think that my dreams are about the fact that I feel guilty because a man I actually loved died for me and saved the world. Or, I can be ‘healthy’ and take your view that I feel guilty because a man I really never cared about killed himself…Decisions, decisions, so many decisions. ‘Who shall decide when doctors disagree?’”
“Only you can make that decision, Xander. But I strongly urge that you take my advice – you need help, Xander. And if you don’t deal with this now, you’re lible to lose touch with reality –”
“Reality? Funny thing, that.” Xander wondered aloud. Suddenly he was feeling much better than he had in a long time.
“How so?” Nervousness plauged the doctor’s composure. Not quite as well-bred as one might have though afterall?
“See – your version of reality is one in which everyone has the option of explanation. In your perfect textbook world, everyone can find the answer to questions inside of them. In my world, Doc; in the world of Hellmouths and burning lovers? S’not so easy. Where I come from, there are things that can’t be explained and no amount of vengence demons or Krispy Kremes and self-reflection can help you unlock anything but a dusty crypt filled with stolen furniture and spliced cable…”
“Xander…I think perhaps there may be more at work here than just your dreams. Don’t you think it strange –”
“You know, you’d think I would?” Xander remarked, deciding that the doctor probably would think it’s strange, the world he grew up in. “But let me tell you, from one pirate to another – there’s no such thing as normal and nothing’s strange once you’ve seen everything twice and saved the world a few hundred times.”
“Xander, I really think-” he tried again, unsuccessful once more.
“Maybe that’s your problem, Doc. You think too much. Me? I think I’ll stick to dreams and hope that some day the Powers that Be will let me in on their secret.”
With that, Xander got up from the couch and made to leave, when the doctor’s question stopped him. He turned to face the man holding a stupid yellow tablet and the face of someone in shock.
“I believe this means you’re cancelling your therapy? You’re just going to not deal with anything and live in denial?”
“Actually, I think denial’s been pretty good to me.”
“You’re obviously in dire need of help, young man. I would like you to come back next week, and we’ll see if we can begin again. I’ll keep your regular time slot –”
“Tell you what, why don’t keep my hour free. I won’t be here, but you can use the time to fuck yourself with your fucking legal pad. You know, I don’t think therapy’s working out for me.” With that, Xander left the office, smiling brightly at the entirely too-cheerful receptionist.
Spike nods but all he says is : “Thank you. Now go, love, get out while you can!”
Xander looks down, and their hands are on fire. But it doesn’t burn anymore. It feels…right. That light surrounding Spike gets brighter and brighter, and Xander can’t see anything. Brighter, whiter, and –
Xander awoke, sitting up in his bed in a dark and lonely apartment. His entire body glistened in the moonlight as sweat cascaded down his body like Niagara on Speed.
He sat there a moment, panting and listening to the silence. Only his shallow breathing, only his rapidly beating heart.
“Xander, you’re going crazy. Stupid psychiatrist – what does he know?” Xander mumbled, pulling himself out of the bed that was wet with sweat. He groggily rubbed at his eyes, trying to get them to adjust to the darkness.
Tripping and stumbling, he made his way into the kitchenette of his closet-sized studio apartment. The dream had made him sweat out any water in his body, and his mouth felt like cotton – tasted like landfill.
He opened the refrigerator, wincing at the bright white that seared against his eyes. He reached for the bottle of distilled water but froze as he felt a solid cold hand on his shoulder.
Before he could turn, he heard a voice that sent a dead tingle through his body:
“Hello, love. Miss me?” Spike asked.
The end....
or is it?
Quotation on decisions from Alexander Pope
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
no subject
That ending is SO not fair!!
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
Please?
*offers you pretty men and magical candy that has no calories*
From:
no subject
Actually, there are no promises, but there maybe sort of could possibly just might be an epilogue/sequel in production:)
From:
no subject
You absolutely, under no circumstances, cannot stop here. No sireeee!
Cliffhanger to end all cliffhangers.
Sigh.... *pretends to be patient in hopes that you'll blow off more schoolwork to write next bit*
From:
no subject
Geeeeeze LAYDAY, I gots finals preps in less that three weeks! *snogs* Which is exactly why there maybe sort of could possibly just might be an epilogue/sequel in production:) No promises though.
From:
no subject
God, I love you!!! Thank goodness
From:
no subject
*collectively hugs amejisuto*
From:
no subject
*hugs her and you too*
From:
no subject
...and then have our way with 'em...
...and then give 'em to Ame...
...but then take them back...
...and have our way with 'em
From:
no subject
I'm all for the taking them back!
And then we can go get J. August Richards, cuz Hello! and the guy who plays Lindsey--he might be evil, but ohdearlord I think he'd be EVIL, ya know.
*plans out the next 20 years of our lives*
From:
no subject
*lights the fourth cigarette in 10 minutes*
From:
no subject
The ep where he sings; aaacck all kinds a girly melty going on.
*gets her nic fix through you vicariously*
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
The dreams/visions, he needs to talk about those to, but to someone who could actually understand. Probably someone like Giles or Cordelia, but I doubt Xander would want to discuss them with people he knows; strangers are much better for confiding private things.
The upshot is that Xander really could use help and it's not available to him, so he has to muddle through it on his own, try to understand and resolve it by himself and I feel for him.
I do hope you continue this. I'd love to see what becomes of Xander, if he manages to deal or not.
From:
no subject
Right now, I'm planning an epilogue, but with RL as crazy as it is right now, I'm not entirely sure when I'll get to do it. Could be tomorrow, could be next month. But there is a plan!