Interlude
The older man stood outside the library, listening with a trained ear through the door. For a while he had been afraid the Vampire would sense him- but luckily he still smelled as he always had, and the Vamp had decided it must just be left over scent. Like he had brushed the wall or something.

And damn it, he still knew a thing or two about hiding from the creatures of the underworld.

The problem was that things weren't going the way they were supposed to be. This should have been her second chance. This was supposed to be Xander's go at looking through all his memories and finding all the times that Buffy had saved him. The friendly moments. The good moments.

This was their chance to see just how useful their Xander was, before they used and abused him.

This was supposed to be the dimension where everything went right.

But no, he focused on the bad memories. Just like he always had. First it had been the military- alright, that one had ended up being useful. Then Angel turning against him. Then… he had focused on all the times they had turned on him in general.

Willow shooting him with magic. Buffy trying to kill his finance- though he hadn't been able to figure out who the demon was during the memory, he knew Buffy shouldn't have been trying to kill her. All those times he had been left behind. Ignored. Forced to keep Spike in his basement.

Then it had gone to Jon's ideas: times he had been forced to work through things alone. Bombs almost going off. Standing against a priest- there had been some good curses coming from the library when Xander had suddenly started freaking out, rolling on the floor, his hands over his left eye.

The older man walked away sadly. He had done this all in an attempt to make it so he would never have to get vengeance. He never liked having to hurt anybody, but when there was no choice.

He shrugged his shoulders, and continued down the hall. When there was no choice, there was no choice.

He never saw Cordelia watching him from down the hall.