Based on characters and situations created by Joss Whedon and Jhonen Vasquez.
Xander woke up on his eighteenth birthday, not feeling especially celebratory. He couldn't quite place why, but he felt rather depressed. All day, he was in a deep funk, wishing something would happen to break it. But neither Willow nor Buffy had been able to cheer him. Then it came to a head. Harmony called him Squee.
His eyes squeezed shut, as he was bombarded by memories he'd worked hard to banish. "How did she know about that nick name?" he wondered.
"Willow," Buffy asked. "What's the deal with that?"
"Squee was Xander's nick name when he was little." Willow whispered. "It had something to do with the noise he made when he was scared." She saw that Buffy was about to be amused. "It was a _really_ bad time of his life."
"Oh." Buffy quickly squelched her amusement, and saw how badly Xander had been effected by the name. Her heart went out to her friend, and she wondered just what had happened.
*****
Xander arrived home after school, in unusually low spirits. He wondered if anyone had noticed that he hadn't spoken that entire day, and wished he could be happy about it being his birthday. Probably he would have, had Harmony not brought up the whole Squee thing.
Every insecurity, every fear, every bad thing that had ever happened to him was wrapped in that name. He sighed and reminded himself that those days were over. He wasn't Squee anymore. He was Xander. Sidekick to the slayer.
Then he opened the door to his bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Hiya Squee!" Johnny said, sitting on his bed.
Xander could only stare, and when he was finally able to vocalize what he was feeling at that moment, he did something that he hadn't done in years. He squeaked.
*****
Sunnydale, Some Years Ago
"Psst, Hey Squeegee! Wake up! It's me!"
Little Xander Harris hadn't actually been asleep. He didn't sleep much in those days. Too scared. When he looked up, surely enough, it was the crazy neighbor man.
"Hello," the man said. "I used my basement tunnel to get here. Neat huh? Anyway, I just wanted to say goodbye before leaving."
"Are you, moving away?" Squee asked hopefully.
"Oh no, don't worry." Johnny reassured him. "I'm just going on a bit of a holiday. But you'll be on your own for a while. I won't be here to help you like I used to. It's a frightening world to be alone in."
"Hey s-son!" a drunken voice from without called. "What's going on in there?"
"It's your dad." Johnny said. "I'll hide under your bed till he goes away." As he was sliding under, he looked up at Squee with mischief in his eyes. "Wouldn't it be funny if I shoved a knife through the mattress? Hee."
"Who are you talking to?" Mr. Harris asked, entering the room. "One of your imaginary friends? Like the voice in you teddy bear or the scary neighbor man?
"I know you think we're not paying enough attention to you," his father began. "And, there's a good reason for that. Y'see son, I resent your existence. Well, maybe that's a bit harsh. No wait, it's true! I really despise my life, and you're a major factor in that. Whew! It feels good to have this talk with you.
"Do you know what it's like to be trapped in a life you never planned on having? I can't believe I have this shitty job, and it's even more unbelievable that I have a kid! It's like having a room mate you just can't kick out!
"You know, I had other plans for my life. This is nothing like how my life should have been. You shouldn't be here, I shouldn't live here, and you mother sure as hell wouldn't be doing all the shit she does.
"Little kid, I'm sorry nobody loves you, but just think about how miserable I am, and how much of that is your fault. I mean-"
WAK!
Mr. Harris fell to the floor with a thud, blood trickling from where Johnny had hit him in the head with a toy robot.
"Sorry about that." Johnny apologized. "But he didn't sound like he'd be shutting up anytime soon, and I've no time to wait.
"Oh don't worry about him." He said, indicating the prone figure of Squee's father. "He'll be up in a while. He might be permanently blind though. Oh well that should make it easier to get away with stuff. Of course, being blind, he might develop a keen sense of hearing. That might not be good. You know if you'd like I could do something to his ears. Have you got a lick-em-aid stick? Oh but then he'll just fine tune his sensitivity to vibrations. Mmmm, we'd have to do some work on his central nervous system. I'll need some tweezers and shoelaces. Pooh, but what if he becomes some kind of olfactory ninja? This is very awkward, I mean, we can't kill him. A kid needs a dad.
"But I digress. Hmm, you don't have any video games. That's very sad. Very very sad. I like monkeys."
"So um," Squee finally spoke up. "Are you gonna chop me up and throw me in the garbage now? Because Shmee tells me you're a bad guy. He says this is a bad place to be. Please don't chop me up."
"Okee dokee." Johnny said agreeably. He sat on Squee's bed. "Look Squee, I just want to make sure you'll watch out for yourself. I mean that unconscious man is just one of your worries. I'm just concerned.
"It's so easy to be affected by your fears. Your hatred. I don't want to see that happen to you. You seem like such a nice little Squee. It must be nice to still have the opportunity to save the cohesion of your pretty mind. The best some people can do is better manage their damage.
"Well, I'll be on my way now. There's still a few things left to do before I go. I'll be going out the window. The underground tunnel has gotten a bit thick with corpses. Good luck Squee. Sleep tight."