I never got to be a supervillain.
Even when Willow and Jesse and I would play as kids, I never was the bad guy. Willow liked to play that part. I guess I
should've seen this coming since we were six years old. She always secretly wanted to find some power and strike back at
the world that had been unfair to her. Now she just finally tried it for real.
And I stopped her.
I smooth the hair off of her forehead and look down at her tearstained, sleeping face. Giles couldn't get a flight until
tomorrow morning. Before that, I don't have to let her go.
What would it have been like to be the one standing there, feeling the power in my hands? What would I have done, if I was
the one who finally had a chance to get some revenge on this whole miserable world? Would Willow have chased me down and
held out her hands in love? Would I have lashed out and cut her face? Would she have been able to reach me at that last
moment, rekindle a spark of humanity before it was too late?
She wouldn't have had to.
I look at Willow sleeping and I remember my childhood friend. Bright and gifted, sensitive and special- she always had that
sense that she could give great things to the world, and she was hurt by the world's failure to appreciate that. To appreciate
her, to love her.
I'm Xander the Ordinary, the Mediocre even. Nothing special here. I learned early from the drunks around the dinner table
that the world is unfair to everyone. It doesn't single out the special. No one has an entitlement to be loved.
If I'd been the one to get my hands on some power, the world would've been safe. I don't have a vendetta with the way things
are. I know it's nothing personal, the way my life has gone. I don't have a right to revenge on anything.
If I'd been the one with the power, I would've turned it on myself.