Okay, so this started off as me writing out how I was feeling when I realized just how pitiful my to date non-existent-love-life is. Reading over the very angsty passages, I realized something. My angst would fit perfectly with how cannon BtVS plot treats Xander. The I thought, hey, what if Xander was a girl, and Jesse was the only one who knew it? That just seemed too much fun to pass up, so I edited my angstyness to fit my new dream world. Then I had to think about why Xander’s parents and her school didn’t know she was a girl, and I came up with two choices, vengeance or crossroads demon? When the thought of a Dean/femXander pairing, I just had
to go for the BtVSxSPN cross. So, by the dictation of the plot bunnies, here is the first installment of my story, Scars Don't Hide The Pain
Do you really have to ask? If I owned it, I might actually have a social life. Since I don’t have one in real life, I don’t own it. Sue and you’ll get squat. I’m broke, bine
? My wallet is a black hole, from which no monies ever return.~meow-this-is-a-line-break-meow~
There’s this pain in my chest that I just can’t get rid of. It burns, it throbs, and sometimes it hurts so bad, I find it hard to breathe. I’ve shed so many tears over this pain, that sometimes I wonder if its’ even worth it. But just when I think I’ve finally gotten rid of it, something happens to make it start back up again, even more powerful than before. So then I’ll just smile, trying to hide the tears that burn behind my eyes. I’ve never told anyone about it, and I don’t think I ever will. Too many people depend on me to be their rock, the normal one, to be the person they can turn to, no matter what. I can’t lay my problems on them; they’ve got enough on their plates already. I’d just be a bother, besides; I’ve suffered in silence this long, what are a few more hours…days…years, even?
I’ve got a fairly good idea how my life is going to play out, and I know what people think of me. I’m going to be there for everyone else for the rest of my life, but in the end I’ll be alone. I’m always alone. I mean, sure, I’ve got friends. I guess they’re good ones, and people say I’m easy to get along with. But it’s all a mask, hiding the real me from the rest of the world. I know I’ll die alone. I don’t just think that, I know
that. I know I’m not attractive. I’m plain in the looks department, I’m sarcastic with crude tendencies, and I’m really bad about sharing my feelings. My self-confidence is bi-polar, one minute I’m on the top of the world, the next I want to crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of my life. Oh, and as if that weren’t bad enough, everyone—even my parents!!—seems to think I’m a boy! Even my so-called-best-friend-since-kindergarten thinks I’m a boy! Now that I think about it, the only person who seemed to know I was a girl the whole time was…was Jesse. Cordy figured it out, so did Anya, though they never told. But when Anya became a demon again, she forgot. Cordy? She left, so it doesn’t matter. And all the while, I keep a smile plastered to my face, a shoulder free for others to lean or cry on, an ear free to listen to other’s worries and problems, and a hug ready for anyone who needs it. The Zeppo. Yeah, that’s me in a nut-shell, a comfort for everyone that’s not me, a joke that has no one to turn to when I’m feeling down.
So I bear the pain, keep it locked up tight where no one can see it. And the days that it makes me break down and cry? I play it off as something else, just so I don’t worry anyone. My friends…they just don’t know the real me. They haven’t even tried to look deeper. No one has…not since Jesse…but he became vamp chow. I’m just the Zeppo, the loser, Donut-‘guy’. People around me are always changing, leaving me behind. Which makes me wonder, why do I stay? What’s left for me here? More dead-end jobs, or doing construction for the rest of my life? Graduation’s come and gone, do they really need me anymore?
But you see, despite all the reasons I have to leave, I know what keeps me here, really. I know
this pain, rather intimately I’m afraid. I know exactly what it is that hurts this much, what it is that dies a little inside each time they take me for granted, of forget about me altogether. It’s what makes me grin and bear it, no matter how desperately I want to let it all go, just get up and leave. This pain? It’s love.