Title: Beggars Riding

Author: Jeanny

Spoilers: Season 5 Through Tough Love, plus MAJOR General Season 6 Spoilers.

Rating: PG

Feedback: Yes, please! jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Distribution: Go ahead, I don't mind, just credit me and tell me where it's going.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, Inc., UPN and any one else with a legal binding claim to the shows and/or characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: Xander exacts a pledge from Willow after Buffy rescues her from Glory.

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Xander sat in the Magic Box fumbling with an axe that Buffy had given him. He couldn't stop thinking about the conversation. He remembered it like it was yesterday. Even though it must have been almost a year...

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After going up against Glory, she was so weak that Buffy had to practically carry her into the house. They came to the house because she wouldn't let Buffy take her to the hospital, not until she recovered some. She didn't want Tara to see her like that. Not that Tara would have probably even noticed, but there it was.

He came over after dropping Anya off at home. Buffy hadn't told him anything, but Xander knew something was wrong with Willow. He'd had no idea she'd be stupid enough to go up against the hellgoddess alone, but in retrospect he should have. It was so like her, that fierceness in her love. It was what made her so strong and brave and true. It was one of the many reasons he loved her.

And now it was the reason he'd almost lost her.

Buffy said nothing when she passed him in the hall, but he recognized the frustration in her eyes, knew she'd seen the same in his. She shook her head, meaning that she didn't talk to Willow, then nodded, letting him know that he should try. He paused outside Buffy's bedroom door for a long moment before finally knocking softly.

"Come in, Xander," she said, and he shouldn't have been surprised she knew. He opened the door and stepped in, pausing to close the door behind him. With the covers pulled up to her chin, he could only see her face, paler than usual under that shock of fiery red that was her hair. She looked as frail and vulnerable as a child, but he knew it was all illusion. Still, it was an effective one, and he swallowed nervously, every thought about what he wanted, no, needed to say to her temporarily leaving his mind.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," she echoed, the tremor in her voice speaking volumes. She was exhausted beyond reason, and he flushed with guilt but stood his ground. He had to be there, go through this with her at that moment, because there might not be a later if he didn't.

"How're you going?" he asked in concern. She looked horrible, like she was recovering from the flu. The dark circles under her eyes haunted him, made him doubt himself even more. Maybe waiting was...no, he knew better.

"Okay," she said, then amended. "I'm tired. And a little shaky. But mostly tired." She had sighed heavily then, snuggling a bit under the covers. He knew it was his clue to leave, but he just stood there, watching her silently. She cleared her throat. "I think I'm just going to try to get some sleep."

"We need to talk," he answered, ignoring her. She blinked, and he knew she hadn't expected that from him. The beads of sweat that had suddenly appeared on his brow told him he hadn't expected it of himself, but he pressed on doggedly. "About what happened today."

"Can it wait? Please?" Willow asked plaintively, and he saw the flash of annoyance in her eyes. His own responding irritation gave him the courage to take those last strides to Buffy's bed and plop down on the end, sitting so he was facing her.

"Nope. Now."

"Xander," Willow protested with a touch of a whine, but he continued as if she hadn't even spoken.

"Did it make things better, Will? Did almost getting yourself killed make things better?" The harshness made her wince. She covered her face with her hands for a moment before shaking her head.

"That wasn't what I...I didn't...you wouldn't understand," Willow floundered for a bit before saying the last flatly, with an edge of finality. Xander's eyes blazed, and he bit his words off through a jaw rigid with anger.

"You think I'm not angry about what happened to Tara, what Glory did to her? Or to you? You think I'm not upset about this, that I'm not terrified that that hellbitch's going to get to Dawn and we won't be able to stop it? If there was something I could do to stop her, even if it meant that I...that I died trying...I think I would. I understand a little too well, if anything..."

Willow looked guilty, and reached out and touched his arm sympathetically.

"I didn't mean that...I know you care, Xan. It's just I...I couldn't let this keep happening. If I could, I had to do something. I had to stop her..."

"This wasn't about stopping Glory. It was about punishing her," he said firmly. Her lip quivered, and she looked away, but he knew he'd gotten it right.

"How can you say that? You don't know..."

"Stop it, Will. Stop lying to both of us. I know. And you know I know. What you did, it wasn't for Tara, for Buffy or for Dawn. It was about your pain, your guilt, your need to get revenge. Don't even try to deny it."

"I'm sorry," Willow said softly, still not meeting his eyes.

"I know you're sorry. That's not enough," Xander insisted, and her eyes widened in shock. Now she looked him in the eyes, and her eyes were growing angry.

"What? What are you saying?"

"You heard me. Sorry's not good enough. You say you are, but what if something like this happens again? What if Glory kills Tara, or Dawn, or me?"

"Don't even say that," she cried brokenly, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. "Don't-"

"Don't what? Face facts? It could happen, Will. You know it could." He paused, taking a deep breath, then continued, "It wouldn't even have to be Glory. There's a Who's Who of killer demons hereabouts that could take any of us, any day. Are you gonna go all kamikaze witch if that happens? So that next time you can get yourself killed in the process?"

"N-no," Willow said, but they both heard the hesitation, the doubt in her voice. "I just...I just couldn't stand by and watch Tara...and do nothing. I just can't...it...it hurts too much..." She was crying in earnest now, weeping in a way that hurt his heart. He took her in his arms, stroking her hair, and fighting back his own tears.

"I feel it, Will. I know how much it hurts...and how much you love us, because that's how much we love you. But I really, really need you to hear me, okay? No matter what happens, you can't do something like this again. It'll destroy you, and if that happens it'll destroy all of us. You don't want that, do you?"

"I...can't...Xander..." she sobbed. He grabbed her hands and held them together, his fingers lacing over the top of hers. Their foreheads bowed and touched. If someone had seen them at that moment it might have looked like some kind of prayer session. Xander knew that wasn't too far from the truth.

"Please, Will. Please promise me you won't use the dark mojo again for vengeance, no matter what. Just...just promise me you'll come to me, or to Buffy or Giles, if something...let us all figure it out together. That's what families are for, right?" When she'd said nothing, he continued with a note of desperation, "I can't lose you, Will. Not like that...I just can't. Oh God, please..."

"I...I promise...I promise I won't do this again...I'm so sorry...I won't go off on my own and I won't g-get..." Willow trailed off, sobbing harder, and Xander could hear the sincerity in her voice. But he still needed more, and he realized what it was.

"Swear. Swear on...swear on your love for Tara."

"I do. I swear," Willow hiccuped, and then they both cried, and held her and rocked her until her breathing became slow and even and he knew she was asleep. He watched her sleep for a long time, the fear that had gripped him slowly giving way. Willow never lied to him, and she'd sworn on what he knew she held most dear. It had to be enough...

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"Xander?"

He looked up at Buffy's solemn expression, and shook off the memory as best he could.

"I'm ready," he answered, standing up and shouldering the axe, his other hand finding his pocket. He remained hunched over, his head hung low, and the Slayer sighed.

"Are you sure you want to come? This could get...pretty rough," Buffy responded softly. He nodded, suddenly not trusting his voice to speak. "God, Xan, how did this happen?" the Slayer asked, her voice full of painful wonder, and he shook his head, swallowing hard. "I know. I guess Tara...I guess it was just too much." Buffy inclined her head towards the third member of their party. "Anya, you ready?"

The blonde demon nodded, her eyes unreadable. Buffy led the way from the shop, and Anya fell in next to her former boyfriend silently. She had wanted him to suffer, to feel a little of what she had felt after their aborted wedding, but she found herself taking no joy from his dejection. After a moment she touched his arm and he looked at her sadly.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out," Anya said sincerely. Xander wanted to be angry with her, but there was no point. It wasn't her fault, he knew. He shrugged hopelessly.

"It didn't make any difference, An. I thought...I thought if only I had talked to her then, told her how I felt, made her understand, this wouldn't be happening now."

"So you wished. I granted. And here we are," Anya said. "We still have to stop her."

"She promised me, An. She swore she wouldn't do this."

"Promises get broken all the time," she offered neutrally, her eyes dropping. It amazed her that he still understood so little, about vengeance and grief and broken hearts. It was exasperating, and more than a little endearing. No wonder she hadn't been able to curse him properly, instead agreeing to grant his wish.

"Not Willow's," he insisted. It took a moment for her skeptical expression to register. "She...I'm like a broken record, right?" he finished, deflating again. "I just can't believe it didn't make any difference. Nothing's changed. Absolutely nothing. How the hell can that be?"

"Sometimes that's how it is," Anya said philosophically. "Things just are, and you can't change them, not even with a wish. Or a promise."

They fell into silence as they walked out into the cool night air, memories of a conversation that had never really taken place still echoing in his mind.

"If changing the world wasn't enough, what would be?" he asked under his breath as they trudged off to the battle that none of them wanted. The words he knew he had never really spoken were the truth. They would destroy her, and doing so would destroy them.

No matter what he might have wished.

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