There were times when memories would come unbidden to him, Subsection B in Chapter Two of the machine gun cleaning manual, or how to make his bed have tight corners. Three ways to move oneself out of any dangerous physical situation not involving a weapon, or how many miles needed to be ran to complete morning exercises. He'd long ago learned to relegate these useless pieces of information to the back of his mind, where he stored every other memory from his brief stint as a soldier. It was all there, clear and accurate, but never used.
They'd been coming more frequently lately, as the Initiative's workings came to light. Looking over military plans and bases and operations kept triggering things, and every time he zoned out on how to shine his boots or complete the obstacle course, Willow or Buffy would draw him out of his mind with a worried smile and ask if he was okay. He didn't know how to say that it really wasn't.
To be honest, it was one of the lesser things he had to deal with as a victim of Sunnydale's myriad of tortures and problems. Knowing how to disarm and attacker or to train a handgun with accuracy was far more welcome than remembering his days as hyena boy, or running around with zombie guys. When those memories stirred up he'd tell the girls he had to work and lock himself in his sad basement room for the rest of the day.
Still, though, nearer to Christmas, while his construction job was going really well and he was even getting sex on a regular basis, Riley was unmasked and Xander remembered the chant for running at six in the morning. Now, every time Riley came by to be with Buffy or mention a demon problem, Xander's mind would reel and buzz with memories of himself that weren't him. Not anymore. Not ever, really.
Eventually Xander, by observing closely and realizing that the Initiative's really lame cover as a fraternity housed all the soldiers on the project, knew most of the men who were secret operatives. When he came to the quad for lunch with Willow, he'd watch them walk around in a parody of a college student. It was almost amusing, to watch them be relaxed and flirting with a girl, and then straighten and nod brusquely to any soldier they passed.
But there was a pain in Xander's chest he couldn't quite define every time one of the now-identified soldiers passed him. He stayed up nights thinking about it, why he was so worried when he finally had things going for him. When he finally pinpointed it, a hand came up to cover his eyes, because it was so obvious as to make him double over in phantom pain.
He wanted to be one of them.
He wanted the frat boy cover and the double life; the girls and the job and the camaraderie, the secret life and the college classes. He wanted the purpose they had.
In the morning, he got up and went to work. When Riley ran away from everything that was his life based on a crazy idea and stupid love, Xander supported him silently, offering a hand to help him stand. Xander knew what it was he was leaving behind.
words © SA. characters, show, and people not mine. no infringement is intended.