I do not own these characters. If you think I do you need help more than I do.
The shock to his system drove the man to his knees. A million memories were suddenly present, as was a vast storehouse of knowledge. Knowledge of both who he was and who he was supposed to be. After a moment, he stood and looked at the chaos around him before frowning and saying, “Right, well, I guess for anyone else this would look rather strange.” He looked down at his long dark coat, light tan slacks, brown shoes and golden-yellow vest. The crevat was getting an adjustment when heard a voice call out.
Turning, he looked at the outfit worn by the teenage girl who had called out. The redhead had on a long sleeve red top that revealed her midriff, a pair of tall boots and a short black leather skirt. “I am sorry, but I am not this ‘Xander’ you are looking for.”
“No, wait,” she held out a hand, “you are. You, you see,” she motioned around them, “everybody just became their costumes.”
“I am not wearing a costume,” he informed her.
“But, but you are. You see,” she gestured off to his left. “We all got costumes and now we’re becoming those costumes. And you, I, I mean Xander, he dressed up as you and now that everyone has turned into their costumes he’s turned into you, I mean, he thinks he’s you and,” she looked confused.
“So you are saying that I am not who I clearly remember myself being but, instead, am your friend who now believes he is me?” He gave her a gentle smile. “My dear, I assure you, I am not your friend Xander.”
“Um.” Willow resisted the urge to try to persuade him that he was, in fact, Xander Harris. As one of the former children let out a roar, however, she decided to take the more prudent course of action. She paused for a moment, then used the name of the character her friend had become.
“Doctor, we need your help.”