How Green Becomes Wood

The weeks came and went easily, or as easily as they could under the circumstances. Their schedule was tossed around a bit when school began again, but with it came a stronger routine, since three of the four people in the house were now governed by a bell schedule. Dark swore he would hear those rings after he was dead, and sometimes he regretted his career choice solely because of the sound. It didn't help that all of his students eagerly awaited it.

His students, of course, no longer included Xander and Alec, as it classified as a conflict of interest, so they had been passed to Mrs. Angela Sullivan, who was probably preferred by the majority of the student body, because she was much less strict, a less harsh grader, and actually offered extra credit. But, as Dark loved to point out, her students averaged lower on the AP exam than his did. It was difficult for him to explain to the other faculty how he ended up as the legal guardian of the twins, but ultimately the majority were glad they were in a safer space now.

The mornings now meant the four them would pile into the car, drive Daizi to the train station, then go to the school. Unfortunately, because he needed to stay at the building longer than the students did, most days he couldn't give them a ride home, so they would be forced to take the bus... but that also meant they had about an hour and a half each day where they were home alone, because since Daizi worked in the city, she didn't get home until 7, and except on Fridays, and sporadically on different times, Dark wouldn't be home until 5:30.

Both Dark and Daizi were thrilled Xander was managing to stay out of detention, except for those three times, but honestly change doesn't happen overnight, so they couldn't be too annoyed. He was hoping both of their grades would go up. The most annoying thing about living with a teacher was, probably, how since he knew all of Alec and Xander's teachers, he also knew all of their upcoming assignments and exams, and he knew when they didn't submit something.

Thankfully, Daizi was not also a teacher, and resultingly, behind the scenes, out of earshot of Alec and Xander, she was actively trying to get her husband to relax a little bit about their homework, because they were passing, and to her, that was enough for now. In any case, she was happy, and it was evident. It wasn't that she viewed Alec and Xander as her sons, but it was for her, it was nice to have their big house feel less empty. It seemed to clear some of the ghosts away.
 
Xander thundered through the house with his books in one hand and his socks in the other. "Come on! We're late!" he yelled.

In the kitchen, Alec finished packing lunches for them both and zipped shut the little slim little new lunch boxes. The school provided lunch, but after having eaten there out of necessity for so long, he was happy to spend the extra time packing even the most basic lunch to take just because he could. "We are not late, we are right on time," he stated calmly. "Daizi, you have your lunch, right?"

Xander tossed himself into the nearest chair and yanked on his socks. "Right on time for you is five minutes late," he grumbled. "If we don't get the lead out, Daizi's going to miss her train! What are we having today?"

"Tuna fish sandwiches with carrot sticks," Alec told him with a happy smile. "There's a candy bar for each of us, as well."

Xander made a face at the carrot sticks before slip-sliding his way to the front door for his coat and shoes.
 
The one thing Dark had found himself entirely unable to figure out was why, now that there were four, it was so impossible to leave the house quietly and on time. He and his wife getting ready had been a beautiful ballet of timing and understanding, except on the mornings where they decided to risk it all for a bit of fun, but now it was more like a triceratops was crashing through his house. Which didn't even really make sense as a metaphor, yet there they were.

"I do, don't worry, and Dark has his too." She found it sweet how concerned they always were about if she had her lunch that she didn't have the heart to tell them that most of the time she just got lunch in the city.

Dark did not mind the boys making their own lunch in the morning, and honestly he was pretty impressed with their dedication to it. So he did not mind buying the foods they liked to eat when he went shopping, even if it meant he had to start going to more stores than he used to. However, "You both are such Americans," he commented. His pantries now looked split by an ocean, and he didn't care as long as they stayed neat, but it was nonetheless a strange sight.

He pulled on his coat and then helped Daizi with hers, not because she needed help, but because he liked to show her how devoted he was, and then, after Daizi fetched her cane, they went to his car. He opened Daizi's door for her before getting in himself, for very much the same reason as to why he always helped her with her coat.

Then, once the twins were all loaded in, he drove to the train station. It was a good thing the back seat of the car had three seat belts, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to buckle his work bag in anymore, and he hated the thought of getting into an accident, and the thing flying loose and causing more damage. But the car seated exactly five, and considering he had sworn off adopting any more homeless teens, they would only ever need four.

"Have a good day at work," he said, kissing his wife before she got out of the car.

"You too, don't torture anyone until they cry today," she teased, "I love you."

"I will try not to. I love you too." And that was the other reason why, before the twins, Daizi would sometimes almost miss her train. They were terrible at saying goodbye.

At last she got out, wished the twins a good day at school, and hurried to the platform. Then, at last, Dark drove to the school.
 
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"Have a good day!" Xander and Alec called after her.

Xander slumped back in the seat and patted Dark's work case like it was a dog. "How come we don't all ride a bus? Riding with you means we're ten minutes early to school every day."

"I like being early," Alec commented.

"I don't," Xander grumbled. "All the early birds have nothing to do but imagining things."

Alec thought a moment then gave a little nod. "Well, I'm glad we're early today. I need to turn in my art project. I call it, The Hills are a Fuzz!"

Xander gave him an odd look. "Was that that landscape where you tried to paint things so they looked like they were made of socks?"

Alec nodded proudly. "Yep!"

Xander just sighed and willed the car to travel faster.
 
"If you would rather take the bus every morning, be my guest," Dark replied, "but I am not sure if you realize the morning bus leaves out stop at 6:40 a.m., so you may get to school on time, but you would have to leave the house way earlier. But if those ten minutes are precious, I would gladly continue to drive Alec and let you stand outside before the sun is even up."

He glanced ar them in the rear-view mirror and then pulled into the school's parkinglot, "Alright. Stay out of trouble today, I do not need your teachers coming into my classroom to lecture me about you..." Then he sighed and added, as he got out of the car, "I know that you are trying, and I appreciate it. And I am sure, Alec, Mr. Major will adore your project, he is intensely fond of experimental works. If you could only hear the things he talks about in the teacher's lounge..."
 
Alec smiled as he scrambled out of the car first. "Thank you. The teacher's lounge sounds like a lot of fun to hang out in. Have a good day!" He pulled out his small school bag and carried it into the school in both arms very carefully. He was carrying precious cargo!

Xander grumbled moodily, feeling a little put-upon. It wasn't like he actively tried to get into trouble! Trouble just sort of happened around him. Detention wasn't the worst thing in the world, but it was annoying, and now teachers were talking about him to Dark? Hadn't any of them heard of slander? That was a bad thing.

He didn't bid Dark goodbye as he held the door open for Alec and disappeared inside. Their classes were mostly the same, but their first and third were separate. He made sure Alec got to Mr. Major's class before heading off to his own class, hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets. A group of five other boys hung out near the bathrooms on the way to the room. He slowed, moving away as they turned to watch him. He glanced around, but no teachers stood in the hallways. They were all busily getting their rooms open and ready. He stood near the classroom door and leaned against the wall, waiting, one eye on the boys.
 
"It really is not," Dark replied, and yet, after retrieving his bag, that was exactly where he went so he could drink some of the worst coffee ever brewed before heading to his classroom. His classroom was, despite how intricately and carefully his home was decorated, rather plain. He was not a fan of over-the-top childish decorations, so he had simply added a few clocks to the wall set to different time zones (one for their current time, one for the Arabian Standard time, one for Eastern European Standard time, one for East Africa time, one for Chile Standard time, and one for Australia Eastern Daylight time), a handful of flags, a world map, and called it a day. The map was interesting because in his first year of teaching, a student had come back from Spring break after visiting Paris and was so excited she requested to put a thumbtack in it to mark one of his students had been there. He agreed, because it seemed like more trouble than it was worth to to tell her no... Now the map was full of thumbtacks from his students, and on a few occasion former students would come back "to visit" after they studied abroad in college to put a thumbtack in the map.

It was now utterly useless as a teaching tool.

He deeply regretted allowing that first student to mark it, but it was too late now, because after he gave one student permission, he could not exactly revoke it. Western Europe was fundamentally illegible. So that was fun. But, it was cool the first time he had a student say he convinced his parents to visit Romania instead of England so he could be the first thumbtack in that country. And that student brought him back a souvenir from Bran Castle. So that, at least, worked out in his favour.

Dark didn't really have much to do that morning, it was just a standard lecture day, so basically as soon as his PowerPoint was successfully projected, he was able to just sit and wait. They were still on the Renaissance, which meant the art kids in class were very excited to talk about their favourite painters, the comedians who thought they were original made the same jokes about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and pretty much the rest of the class feel asleep until he began talking about the Borgias.

But at least he had his passionate few who actually cared about the material. Even if they liked to come into class early before he really had a desire to deal with students yet.
 
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"Hey! Candlehead!" yelled one of the boys down the hall.

Xander ignored them and looked through his books, making sure he hadn't forgotten his homework. He knew they wouldn't go away if he ignored them, but he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of looking around, no matter how annoyed it made them. Instead, he organized his three books and checked his shirt sleeve for any breakfast stains. There were none.

"Oi! Hey! You! Flamehead! Hey, I'm talking to you, asshat!" The group got closer with each exclamation until they were only a few steps from Xander.

Xander finally looked up. "Me? Huh, I thought you were yelling for someone else." He leaned back against the wall and put one hand in his pocket, the other holding his books. "You got my name wrong. Need a reminder."

"Don't need a reminder. It's not worth remembering," said the leader of the pack, a rather dull, cocky boy who barely made it onto the football team but liked to pretend like he was the star player. He didn't usually bother Xander too much other than annoying posturing and posing, but when the two did come head to head, he usually came out squeaky clean while Xander landed in detention. His minions were football rejects who liked to lick at his heels and basque in his fame. They were the type of kids who, when on their own, were perfectly fine and actually pretty civil, but once you put them in a pack with an eager leader, the mob mentality instantly took over.

"Then you aren't worth listening to," Xander said dryly and turned as if to leave, but one of the minions had migrated to cut him off, and he didn't have anywhere to go, anyway.

"Hey, is it true you're with the werewolf wannabe?" the leader demanded.

"I thought he was supposed to be a vampire wannabe," Xander pointed out.

"Nah, too dark for that," the leader said. "Come on, be straight! What's it like?" He grinned, leaning forward.

"Like sleeping in a bed and doing homework in a room," Xander shrugged. "They do their thing, I do mine. It's just a business arangement, that's all."

The leader frowned. "They?"

"Yeah, remember? Darkie got married a couple of years ago or something like that," reminded one of the minions.

"Oh, yeah!" The leader snorted. "Imagine the kind of woman who'd put up with something like him? Must be another sand censored."

The minions looked around nervously as one said, "You can't say that at school! They'll flip their lids more than a knuckle bloodbath!"

The leader snorted yet again. "Yeah, right, like they'd get rid of me. Our team wouldn't get nowhere without me! Come on, trashbag, what's it really like staying with a couple of weirdos like that? I heard his wife was bought. Is it true?"

"No, she's a regular American he forced to marry him so his visa wouldn't expire," said one of the minions. "He keeps her locked up all the time like his slave, that's why he never talks about her and no one's seen them together."

One of the others shook their heads. "Nu-uh, my mom and I saw them out driving one morning, and I saw her! She looked like a pagan freak. Probably does blood sacrifices and stuff."

Xander clenched his hand in his pocket, the blood rising, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Yeah, they are a little weird. Especially when it's time to press the sheets, if you know what I mean. It ain't always just a duo dance."

All the boys stared at him in shock. "What?"

Xander nodded and shifted his weight, playing it cool. "Oh, yeah! They brought someone over just the other day. Nice looking lady until the door closed. Wow, it was wild! They didn't know they had an audience, of course."

They leaned in curiously. "Did you know who it was?"

"Nah, not directly, but I have seen her around. My line of sight was pretty narrow, but I'd swear," he looked straight at the leader, "that she looked just like your mom."

Dead silence. The minions stared in horror. The leader of the pack looked like he was trying to digest a particularly difficult algebra question.

Xander looked him up and down. "If it's a regular thing, might explain why you don't look a hair like your dad. Ever had the urge to jockey a camel?"

The fist came hard and fast, but Xander was ready. He ducked and lashed out with his books, the spines catching the leader hard in his ribs. The leader stumbled to the side, wheezing painfully. Then the minions piled in, and Xander lost track of whose fists were hitting him as he fought back as hard as he could, blinded by rage and a whirl of bodies. One against five larger boys, and he was still managing to hold his own. Even so, it looked like they were about to slam his head into a locker when an authoritative voice cut through the ruckus.
 
It was not Dark's first time being called to the Principal's office. It was not even his first time being called to that Principal's office to speak to that principal. He and Bernice... did not along. They had different ideas on how best to educate students, and different ideas on how to handle misbehaving students, and different ideas on where funds should be allocated, so he was often in her office being berated for going against her ideal plan for the school. Most recently it was for his refusal to enforce the dress code, because in his words, it was not his job to police the length of a teenage girl's skirt.

But never did he anticipate he would be called to the office because the teenager he agreed to foster was being threatened with expulsion for getting into a fight with five other students. Five. To some extent, he had to be impressed, even as Bernice was screeching and this bloodied and bruised teenager was skulking.

"Okay, wait, but are you threatening to expel the other kids?" Dark asked, rubbing his temples with one hand, "Where are their parents? And could you at least give the kid an ice pack? It is the one thing school nurses are allowed to do, and yet, he is just sitting there. Iceless." His even tone of voice was clearly more strained than Xander had ever heard it before, but he still did not increase his volume.

Bernice huffed, standing behind her desk, "I do not think ice is the thing to focus on right now, what's important is how that kid," she pointed at Xander, "picked a fight with five other students, and that is unacceptable, and we cannot have it at this school."

"Again, what about the other kids involved? Where are they?"

"When their parents arrive, then we will talk with them."

"And threaten to expel them too?" Dark asked, "because from where I sit, it does not make sense why one student would just decide to take on five others, even the dumbest kid at this school would see how that would go. So I do not understand why you are screaming at him, while the other five students are not even sitting anywhere near your office."

Bernice raised her voice to yell at Dark again, "Because the other five didn't start it!"

Dark squeezed his eyes shut and his entire body tensed, and after a moment he exhaled, and asked, his voice extremely tight, "And how do you know that?"

"Because we asked, and we have five students with a consistent story!"

"Bernice," Dark said, "if it is five against one of course they going to lie for each other, you cannot be such a fool that you do not recognize that. There are cameras in our halls, surely some of them work."

The woman across from them glared and spun her computer monitor around to face them, and tapping the space bar showed a brief clip of the start of the fight from the security cameras, but the cameras didn't record audio, "There, that is what we have."

Dark rubbed his hand over his face and said, "So you know he was not the one who threw the first punch, so why are we sitting here being yelled at?"

She yanked the computer back into position and leaning across the desk to get more into Dark's face without being too near to him said, "We do not have audio and it looks pretty clear to my eyes that he," Again, she pointed at Xander, "was saying something that hurt Logan's feelings, and aren't you always the one to say we cannot expect our students to just put up with bullying without eventually fighting back? Well, we're punishing the bully."

"Bernice that is ridiculous," At last Dark stood up, although he still did not yell, "five students do not surround a sixth one to be bullied by them, and I do not understand why you are choosing to be so biased against him."

"You cannot speak to me that way, I am your boss," Bernice yelled, although seeing the giant across from her stand made her step back a bit.

He inhaled sharply and ran his hands through his hair, "I am not your employee right now, you really need to understand that I am speaking to you as Xander's legal guardian, and I am well within my rights to defend him," He sighed, and sitting back down said, "I would appreciate it if I could speak to him alone, and I know you let other parents and other guardians have that moment of privacy, so if you deny it to us, then you admit your system of justice is broken."

There was a moment of silence while the two adults in the room stared at each other, but eventually the principal threw up her hands, shouted "Fine! You have five minutes!" and left the room.

Then, Dark sighed again, ran his tongue across his teeth, turned to Xander and said, "Okay... what the hell happened?"
 
Xander finally glanced at Dark then away, feeling both ashamed of himself and angrily defensive. There was no way Dark would understand, and Xander didn't want to tell him. Oh, there was no way Dark didn't know some of the school scuttlebutt, but why give him specifics? Not that Dark would actually believe Xander would do something so stupid as "defending his honor" against five guys like that. Xander barely believed it himself, but he just couldn't sit there and listen to their trash mouths like that. It was one thing to overhear something, another to have it said to his face. His split-lipped, bruised-cheek, swollen-eyed, cut-eyebrowed face.

"Nothin'. Just a misunderstanding. A miscommunication between gentlemen," he grumbled, his words slightly slurred as he tried not to move his lips too much. He rubbed his shoulder gingerly, feeling another bruise forming where someone had punched him, and his ribs weren't feeling so hot either. Though, his ribs were probably better than that blubbering seal Logan's. Thanks to that first swing he'd gotten with his books, he thought he might have cracked a rib in the big fellow. One would think footballers would be made of sterner stuff.
 
Dark stared at Xander, silently looking over how bruised and bloodied the kid was, and then he sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair, muttering to God in his native tongue. Then, he did what was, perhaps, the most terrifying thing he might've done under the circumstances: he began to laugh, really laugh. Not in a crazed, chaotic, tears streaming down his face way, it was more of a low chuckle, but in all of the time the two had known each other, the most Dark had ever laughed was with a particularly strong nasal exhale.

"Oh god," He said, shaking his head, "Tarot is right. I should not be surprised, she always is, she literally always is, it is her damn third eye... You are just like how I used to be." He crossed his arms, tipped back in his chair, and settled his eyes back on the teen. He had a feeling his comment would not be taken well, and he knew it because he hated it when Daizi first said it to him, which... sort of only proved her, and by extension him, correct.

"Look, I cannot help you if you give me nothing. And I know you are prideful and probably do not want help anyway, but do you really want to be expelled?"
 
Xander eyed the stranger sitting across from him, highly unnerved. Who was this madman? He leaned back a little, trying to figure out what was going on. And what on in the entirety of the green earth did Dark mean he was just like him? They were absolutely one hundred percent not like each other at all! Not one bit!

He frowned at Dark skeptically then stopped as it made his face hurt. "I don't know what you can do about it," he stated. "Principal doesn't like me, and obviously loser boy is her favorite, so why bother fighting against that? She don't like you, either, so why do you bother?"
 
"Well... because it is my job. I could say 'screw it,' and quit and probably find another school to teach at, but teaching at this one means Tarot can have her dream job, and sure I could get a job in the city like her, but then if we are both commuting, it would not make sense to live out here, but we like our house. We like our garden, Enkidu loves our yard, and if we uproot our apple tree it will never survive," He stayed tilted back in his chair, and never once looked away from Xander, "so, sure, I could decide not to bother fighting with her and just keep my head down and accept whatever happens to me, but I am not a rug, do you understand? I am not going to let people walk over me, even if it would be easier. And I think you must know that yourself, because otherwise you would not be sitting there looking like that. You fought against a herd of students, and now you are just going to take all of the blame and bow out of place?"

Dark reached across the principal's desk and pulled a tissue from the box, which he handed to Xander for the blood, "I mean, you really seem like you have a habit of bothering when it comes to people your age, you give me hell most days, so you are willing to bother there. If you talk to me, even a little bit, then we can put forth an alternate series of events compared to the one she made up. Because you realize if you are expelled, I will just have to find a different school for you, and if you want that, if you want to completely start over we can talk about it, but you were living on the streets for a period of time because you did not want to just accept what was happening to you. Why are you willing to just accept this?"
 
Xander hesitated a moment before gingerly accepting the tissue. "There's just... some things are too big to fight. They just don't change. You can find a new house. You can't make people see reason." He snorted softly. "I should know. But sometimes you can teach someone not to open their fat mouth around you concerning people you care about or feel the pain. Sometimes, it doesn't matter you can't win the fight. It just matters you make it more trouble than it's worth. Loser boy won't never get into trouble, I will, but maybe he'll remember not to shoot his mouth."
 
Dark nodded and let the front legs of his chair fall softly back onto the tile, "Maybe not, but I always find it a lot easier to sleep at night when I stand up for myself and my beliefs than when I let it go, even if it does not get me anywhere, because at least I tried. She will never like you, and she will never like me, but she also respects me. Bernice wishes, desperately wishes, I did not always fight her, but that is never going to happen, and we have both made peace with that. If you just roll over and do not at least try to convince her you did not cause this, because obviously you did not, then nothing will happen. She is not a great woman, and I will never try to claim she does not play favourites, but she is not entirely unreasonable, and if she never learns your side of the story, her hands are tied. I do not suspect anything you say could make her decide to expel Logan, but it could at least convince her to not expel you. And then, who cares, we can find new schools, we can put you in private school, if that is what you want, but if you are determined to leave, do you not at least want to do it on your own terms?"

Dark furrowed his brows and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the tops of his thighs, "Were they insulting Alec to you? Because Bernice is awful, but even she can understand if you were standing up for your brother."
 
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Xander opened his mouth to say that yes, it was Alec, but... that would be the easy way out. It was true that he often got into fights because of people saying stuff about his brother, but this in this instant it wasn't true. For once. He hesitated, uncertain. Part of him said Dark was right and he should listen, but the other part, the mulish part, growled at the idea and revolted. He sat in silence for a full minute, debating.

"No," he finally said, "they weren't. At least, not this time. They were talking about someone else. Insulting them pretty harsh. So, I insulted them back. I knew they were going to take a swing at me, but I couldn't let them sit there and throw shade like that." He shifted awkwardly. "Don't know that going to a new school would change matters much, but I guess maybe it might mean less trouble for you. Or more if you have to come talk to that principal."
 
Dark turned his head to the side slightly, and tried to think of who he knew Xander cared about, and the only person who came to mind was his brother, who he already said wasn't the one being ripped apart. His mother, maybe? So he asked, gently, "Who were they talking about?" If it was his mother, then Bernice would certainly have to cut him slack.

"If we put you into private school, I think Tarot would have to be the one to talk to that principal," Dark said, "because I think we would end up sending you to the city, and then, hey, at least you would not be ten minutes early to school every day. But you would also have to contend with a blind witchy woman coming to bail you out of trouble. But at the end of the day, it comes down to what you want. Starting over means nobody would know your story, but it would also mean you let all the monsters here win. I was once told, I do not recall by who, to let the monsters see you smile... It may surprise you to learn I have not taken that advice literally, but finding ways to be happy, and proud of yourself, and successful, according to whatever way you define success for yourself, serves the same purpose. It shows they cannot defeat you, even if they try, even if they really want to." He was not trying to guilt Xander into making any particular choice, but he did hope he could convince him to at least try to advocate for himself, instead of just letting those jerks and an awful principal beat him into submission and then throw him out.
 
Xander reached up with his left hand and rubbed his head carefully, letting the hair tangle in his fingers. He sat that way for a long moment, thinking, letting everything sink in, allowing the words to drift through his mind. Finally, he came to a decision.

"Alright. I'll stay," he agreed. "Since it's so important..." He glanced at Dark, suddenly realizing what his choice meant. He was going to have to admit what he said. "They were talking about you and Daizi, some nasty shi- stuff, and I had enough, so after they said... some stuff, I told loser boy..." Nope. He wasn't going to go there. He didn't have the courage. "That I questioned his parentage." Close enough. "He got mad, tried to punch me, and I socked him with my books." He gave a tiny shrug. "That's the whole of it. They came to me and started in, but I knew what I was doing when I told him his mum was a- not a nice thing. I knew he'd try to hit me."
 
"Okay," Dark nodded, and looked down at his hands, and was momentarily startled to see blank skin, before he recalled he had to cover his tattoos for his job. After a decade, he expected to get used to it, but he never fully did and seeing his skin transformed sometimes still took him by surprise. Especially now. Students were insulting him to this scrappy fourteen year-old he plucked off the street, and the kid decided to pick a fight over it. He didn't quite know what to think about it. He fell silent, because he had to be silent, because... That action, that decision, it... meant something, but he didn't quite know what.

"You are a good kid," he said at last, very quietly, "I am not going to say you handled it perfectly, or even how you should have, but... You are a good kid," He took a breath, and when he finally was able to actually look at Xander again, he said, "Please do not start any more fist fights for me. I have begun more than my fair share of them with people like that, and more than twice as many when people insult Tarot. I can promise you that anything they might have said, I have already heard, probably twenty thousand times. I appreciate, genuienly, that you felt compelled to fight for us, but you do not have to... Did you want them to hit you? You said you knew that they would, but did you say it because you wanted the fight, or did you say it and then realize what saying it meant?"
 
"I'm not going to let people talk about stuff they don't know jack about, but I'll try not to let it get this far again. Try," Xander said. He shifted in the chair, hiding a wince as he did so. Stiffening bruises were not fun. "I don't like getting hit, I'm not some kind of freak that gets his jollies off that way, but it's better than slinging hash. That's all they were going to do, and they weren't going to stop until someone stopped them, and I don't mean those butternuts at the head of the class." He paused. "No offense. If you let them keep talking, they just keep going and going, like that one dumb commercial with the battery-powered ferret or weasel or whatever. A good fight gets the steam out and everything and they strut or stagger off to lick their wounds and shut up for a while."

It was the best way to get things over with. Xander would choose a fast beating over a slow torment any day. It worked with bullies of all sizes and ages, and sometimes, it was the best way to distract their attention from someone else. He could take it. He'd long since gone numb to that kind of pain. It was just a matter of shutting off your mind.
 
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