Age

If there was one thing Immortals were blessed with it was a good memory. Their long lives were split between being a blessing and a curse, but their memory was all blessing. No Immortal would forget their lost loves, or their first kiss, for long; something in them seemed to reset their memory when it became damaged, even if it took longer to heal than any other injury.

Xander remembered, with all the clarity that one remembers repetitive tasks, every day of his extremely long life, from his first memory through the rest of his first life, and on through the millions of years he had lived. He remembered the yellow crayon incident and Buffy coming to town and hunting in the jungle, the desert, the forest, the plains.

What he didn't remember was being young. He didn't remember what it had felt like to live in a world where he wasn't the oldest person – possibly the oldest being – alive. He didn't remember what it was like to be inexperienced, or naïve, or bad at fighting. He knew he had been all those things, once, but he didn't remember what it was like.