jealous guy

Well, I'm finally dead. Knew it would happen sooner rather than later. It was this real ugly bastard (no, not my dad, a Chaos Demon, Giles called it), finally pounded my sorry ass into the ground good - they were all there, in the end, all crying over me, all holding my hand and trying to make me comfortable in my final moments. Made me feel...important, you know. Like I was someone worth comforting when they died. Ironic that - the only time I've felt worthwhile is when I'm dying.

So here I am. In the Afterlife, in limbo or whatever, waiting to move forward to the Final Resting Place. Writing you a letter.

Yeah, surprised me too. I guess I wasn't expecting the Afterlife to have a postal service. Yeah, part of the whole goodbye to existence deal - you get one letter to send, one shot at explaining why you did something, or why something happened, and to try and make amends. One letter. One person to send it too.

And I chose you.

You're probably wondering why I'm sending this to you - that is, if you aren't wondering enough why I'm writing when I'm already dead. After all, it's not as if we ever really got on. Or even really liked each other. And a lot of that was my fault. There's a few things I gotta clear up with you, and now seems to be the best - and only - time to do it.

Fact of the matter is, man, I gave you a lot of grief when you used to live in Sunnydale, and I guess I wanted to apologize for it. I guess basically I was jealous - and hell, I had a lot to be jealous about. You had smarts, you had looks, you had skills and talents, and plus, you were special. There was no one around like you - well, no one I really knew or wanted to know. You had gifts, and that made you different. Me? I was just the wisecracking nobody everyone used to have to try and push away to protect me. That hurt, you know. The way that everyone used to see me as just the normal guy and treat me as if I was a kid just because they all had super skills. That made me angry, and I guess I took out most - too much - of that on you.

(And you know, I actually died saving their lives. If I hadn't been there, hadn't leapt in front of that Chaos Demon, they'd all be dead or in little pieces now. I suppose that's irony, in a way.)

But the fact of the matter is, and what made me the most pissed off at you was, you had HER.

I don't need to tell you I was in love with her. And I think part of her loved me as well. At least, I hoped there was. But I never used to know what to do with it - I was always so awkward, so frightened, because she was one of my best friends and I was terrified that she'd laugh in my face or hurt me in some other way. Which turned out to not be far from the truth.

You never used to have that problem. You just breezed into our lives, taciturn and mysterious, always so confident and sure where I was insecure and indecisive. And before I knew it, she was in love with you - the mysterious, handsome, older stranger.

Not with me. Mr. Regular Guy.

It hurt like hell. She chose me over you. She liked me, but there was something about you that she loved. And man, I HATED you for that. I loathed you. I used to lie awake at night, just thinking of ways to cruelly disembowel you. I used to make fun of you, of your condition - which you could hardly help - and I was always so possessive, so jealous...

And ironically, the one chance I had with her, I screwed it up somehow. And in the end, when all was 'right', she went back to you anyway.

And then you left her. I know the excuses. The two of you could never be together. It was too dangerous for you, for her, for everyone. I know them. They make sense. You had to go.

But you didn't see her crying for hours on end when you left, or the way she shambled about blankly as if there was no point to her going on without you. You didn't have to comfort her, didn't have to give her a shoulder to cry on all the while knowing that she'd never love you, but that she was taken by someone else.

And in the end, when she moved on, when it was time to say goodbye to you forever, she chose someone else over me again. Funny, huh? Ha-ha.

But I guess I have to apologize, and make it snappy - I'm almost out of paper. I was a real bastard, man, and I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault that she loved you instead of me - if anything, it was mine. I guess I see that now. I'm sorry.

Time to sign off, now. Dunno if there's gonna be a bright light or anything, but I hope there is. I hope I've earned it. And I know you'll get this. Don't ask me how. Guess I just do. Maybe when you get there (assuming I'm going up THERE), we'll start over, have a beer, maybe be friends. I'd like that.

Well, this is Xander signing off now. I know you'll do the right thing, you'll tell everyone about. Tell them that I said goodbye, and not to feel too bad, because if I had the chance, I'd give my life for them all again. Tell them that I love them. Tell HER that I love HER.

Goodbye Oz. Hope everything works out with the wolf.



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