Author's Note: SG-1 will enter into the story and actually meet the Scoobies... at some point.


Part V:


Xander wasn't really listening to Willow; he knew her well enough to have a pretty good idea of what she would tell them. It was Willow, after all; she'd handle things in a very diplomatic manner. Right now, he was going on his own personal trip down Memory Lane, and he knew that parts of it really weren't going to be pretty.

He didn't know what had drawn him to her. Maybe it was the hair – he'd never seen hair that shade of red before. Maybe it was that absolutely hideous pink dress that someone had made her wear. Maybe it was just the fact that she was sitting in the seat next to his. Maybe – most likely – it was that she was crying. He didn't know what had happened at first… just that she was scared. He knew what 'scared' was. He took a closer look then, seeing that she'd broken one of her crayons. That was easy to fix, he thought. Broken glasses are harder. He couldn't smile at her yet, but he could help her. Silent, as he always was then, he handed her his own perfect yellow crayon, in trade for her broken one. Broken crayons were easily fixed, after all, and easier hid.

It took a while before he figured out that her parents weren't really like his and Jesse's. Her fear was more of a painful shyness than an absolute terror. In the beginning, he didn't tell her about his parents. He joked and teased and tickled. He talked more in class… made a fool of himself just so she would laugh. He and Jesse swore to each other that they would never let her know, because there was sunshine in her laughter, and they didn't want her to be afraid.

Three years. He and Jesse managed to go three years without letting her see the bruises and the cuts, and passing broken bones off as childhood clumsiness. They were boys, after all; they were supposed to do foolish things that ended in injury. Of course, neither of them ever worded it like that. It was Xander's cracked ribs that gave them away… that December when they were in 3rd grade.

Willow's parents were out of town. No surprise, there; they were always out of town. Her nanny had a certain fondness for the two boys… and their effect on her charge… and so allowed them to sleep over and watch pretty much whatever they wanted. That night, it was "A Charlie Brown Christmas," despite the fact that Willow was Jewish. Willow, doing her own version of the "Snoopy Dance," tripped, and Xander – reaching to catch her – actually managed to catch her elbow in his ribs. The nanny heard him scream, pretty much guaranteeing that the hospital would be the next stop.

"He fell off his bike," his parents said. "He said he was fine."

When the doctor asked, Xander didn't say a word against them. No matter what he said that night… he would pay for it later. And they were still his parents, after all. Jesse's parents were the same, so why would suspect that another family would be all that different?

Xander didn't come to school for a week after that, and never mentioned what had happened. Jesse knew the shadows in his eyes for what they were. Willow said nothing, taking him home and cleaning up the cuts, having seen and absorbed something during the week he'd been 'sick.' She was used to parents who ignored their child. But this… she had never seen parents who hated their child. Xander found out later that she had spent the week reading anything she could find about first aid, determined to help him as much as she could.

No one thought of telling the police; the trio would have been separated then… and Xander would have been lost without Jesse and his 'bestest bud' Will.

The injuries got worse as the years went on… when his parents actually saw him. Relocating to the basement helped with the last. And he had gotten very good at playing the consummate goofball and clutz. Toward the end, the Major only helped. Stealth was a survival skill, and his memories had given Xander a few hints that only served to boost a talent that he already had. But he had rarely practiced the moves in the basement. Rarely, but there were a few times when that was his only method of relaxation. If he'd known the Major the night Jesse died, he would've used it then. But he didn't.

When Ms. Calendar was killed… that was the biggie.



Blinking his way back to reality before he had to relive that particular memory, he was just in time to hear Willow relate a certain incident Freshman year involving dear old dad and a baseball bat. Oh, yeah, that's one I'll remember for a long time. Yet another reminder that my ribs really hate me… and that I probably need to drink more milk. Strong bones and all that.

Watching Willow tell as much of his tale as she could – without mentioning too many of the things that still gave her nightmares – Xander spared a moment to be grateful that his headache was fading.

"Wills," he said, interrupting somewhere in the middle of Junior year, "I think they've heard enough of the 'Xander hit parade,' k?"

"Sure, Xand," she said, taking a look around the table. Dawn and Tara were looking vaguely ill, Buffy was hovering somewhere around enraged, and Anya was… well, looking as though she were slightly bored. She had obviously heard worse.

Giles… Giles was lost somewhere in his own thoughts. Xander has suffered betrayal after betrayal… and I, in my worry over Buffy – and my own anger at not being trusted with this – only betrayed him once again. Who angered me more – him, for not telling me – or myself, for never noticing that something was wrong?

And again, Xander perceived a complete lack of reaction from Giles… and his mind saw even more proof that the Watcher really didn't care.




Part VI