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No Body's Home	By : redeyedemon Category: > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander Views: 3481 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I by no means own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any of the characters, and I make no money from writing this.

Chapter List
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A/N: So... I was listening to my music and Avril Lavigne's song 'Nobody's Home' came on... And a few hours later, I was sitting in bed, and... This is waht happened.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, and of the characters involved, nor do I have any claim on the song 'Nobody's Home'. They just all came together to allow this fic to happen. I make no money, and am broke.
This is unbeted... Be forgiving if you can.
"Talk" 'thoughts'
Prologue.

It was easy. Almost too much so. No one to say goodbye to, nothing to leave behind if there had been anyone.
Xander snorted quietly to himself, watching the bathtub slowly fill with water. If his father didn’t love to beat the living shit out of him regularly, there probably wouldn’t even be anyone to notice he was gone. But, no one cared enough now. Not enough to find him soon enough, to save him.
The water in the tub was warm, bordering on hot, but comfortable. Full enough that he could easily sink below the surface, even if the tub wasn’t really that deep.
It was easy. If not for the knife sitting on the edge of the porcelain, glinting in the dark, sharpened diligently, if not for that, it could have just been another night, a relaxing bath. Complete with candles and quiet music.
Xander could enjoy his last night on earth, couldn’t he?
Running away hadn’t worked. They always found him and it was so damn hard to survive with nothing but the clothes on your back.
It was easy. Slipping into the tub, relaxing, staring at the ceiling, considering his life. That last step lead him to the knife. Easy. He didn’t even really feel it as it bit into his arms, from wrist to elbow. The first, deep cut was neat, his left wrist bleeding sluggishly at first, then faster as he tried to cut the right wrist. This cut wasn’t anywhere near as neat, dragging towards his inner arm as his hand slipped, making the cut jagged. Still bleeding, didn’t matter how it looked.
Easy, easy, too easy to slip unconscious, letting the knife slip from his fingers, his wrists falling into the water, turning it pink, red streaking the perfect white of the tub.
Unconscious, so far gone, he didn’t register someone bursting into the bathroom, yelling and demanding answers he didn’t have.
Just blissful silence.

………………………………

Chapter one:
“White. Why the hell is everything here white? It’s fucking depressing. It’s not a bright, happy color. It’s the absence of all color. Which? Is fucking depressing.”
‘Cheery thoughts from a cheery psychopath,’ Xander thought mildly as he stared at the ceiling of the stark white room. Not that the girl screaming in the hallway was wrong. Everything was white. Except for a strip on the left hand sleeve of the shirts, at the bicep.
Xander’s was green.
Or maybe it was just Xander. He wasn’t sure. He’d yet to see anyone else. The last he really remembered, he’d tried to kill himself in his bathtub. Next he knew, he’d been in the hospital, with nurses rushing around him, amazed that he’d woken up.
After getting ‘beat up by bullies at school’, then the amount of blood loss before someone found him.
Yeah, bullies. Nice of his father to give them a neat, pretty answer, wrapped with a big, pink bow. ‘Oh, woe is the depressed, unloved teen with no friends. His loving parents traumatized that he’d try and take his own life,’ Xander’s thoughts were again mild. He should have felt something. Anything: anger, sarcasm, defeat. He just felt… Numb. Nothing. Dead to the world.
Could’ve been the mood stabilizing medications they’d forced upon him when he’d arrived. Could’ve been the stark white bandages wrapped up both his forearms. Maybe it was just plain old depression, weighing down on him.
Happy people didn’t commit suicide, after all. Or try and utterly fail.
Xander’s eyes rolled from the ceiling to the door as it opened after a quiet knock.
“Alexander Harris,” A man asked. He was dressed in light, light blue, nearly white. He was taller than Xander, older. Military crew cut. ‘Really attractive,’ Xander allowed for himself to think, before nodding slowly. “Alright. I’m Reilly Finn. I’m one of the orderlies, and I’ll be helping you get around for the next couple of days. Right now you’ve got an appointment with Mr. Giles.”
Appointment. That meant movement. And talking. Communication. Hell.
But, it was apparently required because Reilly Finn wasn’t moving from the door way, and he was giving Xander and expectant look that didn’t bode well for his thoughts of curling up under the covers in a corner, and wilting away.
So, Xander dragged himself slowly from the bed. And followed Reilly down the hall, half listening as the man spoke. “After your counseling, you’ll have lunch. Dining hall. It’s a big place, but you get used to it. After that, you’ll have free access to the game room, library, rec room, and running track. It’s required to spend at least an hour in one of the four, or between the four, before you can go back to your room. Dinner is after evening medication, so you’ll know when you’ll want to come back to the dining hall…”
Xander tuned out. Rules, rules, and oh, more rules. The prospect of people, and forced time with them was unappealing. Xander had never been a social person. He didn’t see now as a good time to start.
“Well, here we are,” Reilly said, far too cheerily as he stopped in front of a door. White. Naturally. “Mr. Giles will direct you to the dining hall after you’re done. All you have to do is keep walking straight down this hallway and you’ll walk right in. I’ll be around if you need anything.”
Xander nodded, and apparently that was enough, because Reilly Finn, orderly extraordinaire gave him a smile, and moved on down the hall. Xander let his head fall to the side, watching his ass until he disappeared. Then, Xander turned to the door before him.
Knocking quietly was met by an equally quiet “Come in”. Xander enter the room cautiously, glancing around the office he entered. It was small, modest, white. Except for the chairs. The chairs were a comfortable grey color. Xander had to appreciate that.
A voice distracted from his musings. “You must be Mr. Harris. Please, sit,” An older man, with silvery hair and a British accent, wearing wire rimmed glasses sat behind a large desk, looking between Xander and the chair.
“It’s just Xander,” the teen said carefully, sitting, while never taking his eyes of the man. “Mr. Harris is my father. Though, after this, he’ll probably disown me happily. Then it’ll really just be Xander. Xander-no-last-name,” he was rambling, and he knew it. Word vomit was something Xander was exceptional at. Especially when it really didn’t say anything at all.
Mr. Giles gave him a curious look. “Xander then. Why do you think your father would disown you? Surely, he’ll be grateful you’re alive?”
“You’d think,” Xander muttered, shaking his head. “In his mind, this is just one more thing I screwed up. It’d be easier on him is I were dead.”
“Surely not! Why wouldn’t your parents be overjoyed that you’re alive?”
But, Xander clammed up. He didn’t want to talk about his parents, especially his father. So, while Giles’ tone, and accent were rather soothing, he just listened to the questions, falling silent.
After a while, Giles sighed. “Alright Mister… Xander. We’ll revisit this topic when you’re ready. It says here you’re seventeen?”
“Yes sir,” The tone was flat, uncaring, answering because it was a safe question.
“Attending Sunnydale High School?”
“Considering dropping out. I’m no good at school anyways,” same tone, no trace of regret, or anger, just… Calm, numb acceptance.
Giles gave him a long look, consulting his file. “Your grades aren’t valedictorian, but you’re not failing anything, Xander. Surely dropping out would take you away from friends, people you enjoy seeing.”
“No one I want to see,” Xander stated simply. There had been someone but… He’d been taken away. “Listen, sir, no disrespect, but I’m a nobody, with no friends, no desire to go forward, and the biggest accident my parents have ever had. And that’s including a few gnarly car wrecks. I’m here because I screwed up, yet again. I can’t do anything right. I’m gay, I’ve no interest in ever reproducing or carrying on the Harris family name, and that throws a major wrench into their plan for a perfect little future of mooching off their suburban son. I tried to make things easier, take myself out of the picture, because a white picket fence, wife, dog, and two-point-five kids? So not for me.
I tried to commit suicide. That’s why I’m here. No one would’ve even noticed I was gone,” Xander stated simply, meeting Giles’ gaze head on. It was all true. Minus a few details of... Well, anything. The bruises that had been on him in the hospital had faded, and no one knew about Jesse. Not here. His parents would never include that in his history, and no one else even had a clue.
Giles considered him for another moment. “Alright Xander. I think that’s enough for today. I would like you to think about something between now and our next appointment,” he paused, obviously waiting for Xander to nod his acknowledgement. “You said you tried to make things easier on your family. I’m going to assume that would be your same explanation for running away multiple times, and other self destructive behavior? I’d like you to just… Think about that. And, next time, if you’re more prepared, we’ll talk about your family, and the events leading up to your suicide attempt.”
Xander flinched at the words. He’d said them, sure. But, no one so far had said them to him. The nurses and doctors at the hospital all referred to it as the ‘incident in the bath tub’, and his parents… They hadn’t stayed long enough to mention anything.
“Lunch is starting,” Giles said simply. “You are excused to the dining hall. If you leave my office, and take a right, you’ll find it rather quickly. Do you need assistance?”
Xander shook his head, standing shakily, before leaving as quickly as possible. Giles sighed, leaning back in his seat. Alexander Harris. Attempted suicide. There was something the boy wasn’t saying, and obviously didn’t intend to. His mention of his father, and disowning him for his situation worried Giles, especially combined with the reports of multiple bruises when Xander was admitted to the hospital, and a history of hospital stays from sprained or broken bones, to concussions.
Bullies at school, clumsiness, an accident it gym class, all the explanations made sense, but… Giles worried. Alexander Harris… Xander was troubled, more than he was letting on, and more than he’d admit.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Lunch was uneventful for Xander. He ate what was probably the equivalent of dog food, scrapped together to look like lasagna. Well, pushed it around his plate. Food had to be more than appealing for him to eat it in any sort of quantity.
After lunch, Xander followed a crowd into what appeared to be the rec room. Tables set up around the room, a couch with a T.V., large windows, a few chess boards. All made to look exceptionally comfortable. Xander chose a table, alone, by a window, a chess board set and unused before him.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat in silence before a voice disturbed him. “You’re new.”
A dark skinned girl, with long, curled black hair had taken the seat across from him, not actually looking at him, but she had causally moved a pawn on the chess board. Xander considered her carefully. “You’re the girl who was yelling about all the white, earlier,” He stated, uncaringly moving his pawn, turning his gaze back to the room.

“Indeed I was. I had a mild… Disagreement with my psychiatrist. All the white. It’s enough to drive someone to homicide,” Xander heard another piece on the chest board move, but didn’t turn to look. He was grateful as her next words registered. “Or, suicide, as our cases may be.”
He glanced at her sharply. “How’d you know that?”
The bandages on his arms were covered by the long sleeves of the psychiatric ward/hospital/place of hell’s uniforms. Did he just look like a suicide case? A failure.
A touch on his arm had him nearly jumping out of his skin. “Green band around your arm. It means a suicide case. Different colors mean different things. Helps the orderlies keep track of us.”
Xander blinked, touching the green band. Some of the only color in this god awful place. He glanced at the girl, who looked no older than him, who was watching him just as carefully as he was watching her.
“What are the colors?”
“Green? Means attempted to suicide. Blue is an addiction. Yellow means some sort of eating disorder. Purple are the mood disorders: major depression, anxiety, bi-polar. Pink are the personality disorders: schizophrenia, antisocial, paranoid. The works. The grey ones… They’re for people who are probably never going to leave. I personally think some of the personality disorders would fall in that category. And after a while, a lot of them do.”
Xander blinked, taking in the different colors. A couple of the greens, quite a few blue, one yellow that he could see, purple, and a grey. A young girl, maybe fifteen, thin, with pale, pale skin, in sharp contrast to her dark eyes, and dark hair. Her skin seemed to almost blend with the white uniform. A boy, maybe Xander’s age, sat, watching her sadly, responding when she spoke, a dreamy smile upon her face. He had a green band.
“Who’s the girl? With the grey,” Xander asked finally.
The girl beside him shook her head sadly. “Drusilla. She… well, she’ll probably never leave, mores the pity. She and her brother , Spike, the white blonde next to her, they were admitted, one after the other. Apparently, their father was abusive. Intensively so, since they were both young. Dru cracked. Had a nervous breakdown, screaming about voices, and lights. She’s quite convinced that she’s a vampire. Won’t go out in sunlight. She had to be force fed regular food. She’d taken to biting a few of us in an attempt for blood. Spike seems to be the only one who can sooth her.”
“And Spike? What’s his story,” Xander had taken a moment to study the blond. White blonde hair, and bright, bright blue eyes, so much in contrast to Drusilla’s. But the same pale, almost sickly looking skin. Sharp cheekbones, designed to be worshiped…
Xander focused as he her his apparent informants voice again. “Spike tried to kill himself after Dru was admitted. Bottle of sleeping pills, and a bottle of whiskey at a party. I guess he hoped that he’d pass out like everyone else, and no one would notice. From what I’ve heard, and this is just hearsay, he passed out and fell into the kid’s pool, which caused for them to call 9-1-1. At least they’re together now,” she murmured, somewhat dreamily. Xander watched her almost blank features, in contrast with the tone of voice.
Before he could speak, she spoke again. “Spike and Drusilla are hard to get close to, but don’t let that discourage you. You don’t want to be alone here. Dawn,” she stated, pointing to a tall, dark haired girl across the room, hunched in a chair playing cards, who was painfully thin. “She was bulimic. Recovering, but don’t mention her weight. You steer clear of that, and she’s sweet and good to talk to. Oz and Devon,” she said, indication two teens completely entertained in front of the television, one tall, with dark hair, and rock star looks, the other smaller, compact, red hair. “They’re great. Stoners to the end. Devon’s in here because he was tripping out, and thought the government was out to get him. Hid in his basement for a week, didn’t do anything, but drugs and drink water. Oz… Doesn’t seem it, but he’s an obsessive compulsive, nervous wreck sometimes. Everything in three’s, and counts. Everything. But, they make good friends. Devon could tell you his life story a new way every day, and Oz’ll listen to the end of the earth,”
Xander nodded absently. He wasn’t good at meeting people, but for once, he wasn’t the craziest person in the room. On the flip side of that, he may have been the dullest.
He blinked as the dark skinned girl stood, intent on leaving. “And who are you? How’d you land yourself here with the rest of us?”
She smiled gamely, rolling up her sleeves slowly. Marks that looked almost like cigarette burns littered her arms. Upon closer inspection, they were more like bites…. “Snake bites. Mommy hated that I loved snakes. Hated it, so, so much. That I wanted to become a part of them, instead of a part of her. So, I let them bite, and bite and bite til the poison started to take over. She just found me too soon,” She trailed off mildly, looking with a sad smile at her arms. She blinked, her features contorting again into a more sincere smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You can call me Sam.”
“Xander,” he replied slowly. That was… Unexpected. To say the least.
Sam cocked her head to the side, watching Xander curiously. “Well, Xander. I’ll be seeing you,” She said calmly, casually, before walking away.
Xander watched her go, before picking himself up, and heading for his room. If his hour wasn’t up… He’d hide in a bathroom until it was.
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So... Prologue and chapter one... What'd ya think? Read, review, tell me. Warning. I am not an expert on depression or suicide, though I've experienced both.
If you feel like death is the only answer, please, PLEASE talk to someone. I assure you, someone out there is willing to listen. Even if it's me! Leave your email address and I'll happily email you and talk. Second, child abuse is never the child's fault. If you, or someone you know is being abused, call 1-800-4-A-CHILD. Anyways... Sorry if this is offensive to anyone, or they disapprove. It's been a rough year, and a story I read recently somewhat inspired it. I'll post the link next time for anyone who's interested. Until next time. Alena
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No Body's Home