Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own 'em. I just take them out to play from time to time.
Written for the Music of Pain Ficathon
A/N: I’ve never written a Xander-centric story before, and I’ve definitely never written a Xanya story before. I know the opener’s been done before, but when the premise came to me I had to give it a whirl. Hopefully I didn’t fall back on the clichés. I don’t actually know what the clichés would be in this case, but I still hope I avoided them.
Lyrics to Willie Nelson’s Always on My Mind can be found here.
Xander eyed the figure the figure standing in his room. This was definitely not one of his more normal days. Although normal was relative when you lived on the Hellmouth.
“You want to run that by me again?”
The figure smiled condescendingly. “I have a deal for you. What I want is—”
Xander waved a hand impatiently. “Yeah, yeah. What I’d like you to go over is why you think I’d be at all inclined to accept any deal you had to offer me?”
Jesse crossed his arms. Or at least the figure that looked like Jesse crossed its arms. Jesse was dead. Xander had to cling to that. This couldn’t possibly be him . . . could it?
“I came to you because it’s about time you dealt with what happened to me. Also, you have skills I need.”
Xander raised his eyebrows. “What, you need a window repaired?”
Jesse raised his eyebrows in return. “Is that what they have you thinking of yourself? Xander, man, you’re more than—”
Xander pursed his lips. “Really, this Jesse thing? It’s not working for me. I dusted him a long time ago.”
Suddenly Jesse lost his friendly look. “And it hurts! Do you know what you condemned me too? I died a demon. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to visit a place that’s only semi-arid.”
Xander ignored Jesse . . . or tired to. It’s not every day you find out you might have condemned your friend to Hell . . . or at least not every day you have to face up to that nagging thought you’ve had for the last seven years.
“And, dude, this hate-on you’ve had for vampires the last few years? Flattering, but I don’t know if it’s really the healthy thing . . .”
Xander made a dismissive gesture. “That’s not all you.”
Jesse shrugged. “Well, nice to know you cared after you sent me blowin’ in the wind.”
“Nice Dylan reference.”
Jesse smiled. “Thought you’d like that.”
Xander looked at his friend, lost in reflection. After a moment he caught himself. What was he doing? This was the Hellmouth and there was a serious bad afoot. Why did he trust anything funky like this?
“So, that deal . . .”
Xander shook his head. “Nuh uh, man. I’ve lived here too long. This is going to end in tears or flying monkeys.”
“Xander, buddy, would I be anything but straight with you?”
“Last time we talked you tried to eat me, so . . . yeah. Yeah, you would.”
Jessie shrugged. “Fair enough.”
*****
“You’re a strange girlfriend.”
Anya lifted her head in surprise. He’d never said anything like that before. Was she really a girlfriend? The idea filled her with warmth.
She smiled at him. “I’m a girlfriend?”
Xander’s head lolled to one side and he frowned a little. “Oh, there’s a chance I’m delirious.”
She paused. “Ah, yes.” She resumed taking off his pants. “Well, whatever’s making you sick, so far I like it.”
A girlfriend, huh? She wrestled with the waist of his pants. That was . . . well, it was what she wanted. It was, after all, on the top of her list of things to achieve before she died, as she would eventually, now that she was mortal. After girlfriend status came marital status and then screaming infants, although she figured she could put that one off for a bit. The idea of babies did not thrill her at the moment, and she was certain it was supposed to fill her with a sense of maternal pride. Although, she had to admit, if the babies belonged in part to Xander then it would not be as bad.
And aside from the achievement of a new step in life, Anya was thrilled about being a girlfriend because . . . well, she really cared for Xander. She wasn’t sure how people could tell they were in love, because everyone always answered with, “you just know,” and Anya wasn’t certain, so she probably wasn’t. But what she did know is that there was nowhere she’d rather be than right here with Xander, possibly dying romantically together of various diseases. She sort of hoped that the smallpox killed them, since syphilis was not really the disease one thought of when they thought of dying romantically with a loved one. If one wanted to die angrily with a former loved one, sure, but not romantically.
Anya sighed and pulled the waist of the pants to Xander’s knees. Normally this activity would make her want to have an orgasm, but for now she was more than content to wrestle with trousers, supporting the man she cared for.
*****
Xander was freaking out. He felt so sick and he was pretty sure he’d just told Anya she was his girlfriend, which was something he couldn’t really deal with yet while healthy, and definitely not while sick.
What should he do?
Well, about the diseases? He should go to Buffy. Buffy could help, like she always did. And besides, they were supposed to have pie. And dinner. And she was cooking. And he had all the diseases, so the meal probably wouldn’t kill him . . . probably.
He hadn’t really planned to end up with Anya. It had just sort of . . . happened. One day he’s doing the laundry and a naked girl shows up in his basement and the next thing you know there’s spurting juice and black condoms everywhere and he’s being reminded to add fabric softener while ‘soft’ is the last thing on his mind.
He always figured he’d end up with someone, well, slayerish. Anya had powers, or at least used to have powers, but they weren’t the kind of powers that had always done it for him.
But what was all this ‘end up’ business, anyway? Who said they were going to ‘end up’ together? Just because he called her his girlfriend . . . he and Cordy weren’t together anymore. And maybe that wasn’t the best example to use.
On the plus side, he hadn’t pretended Anya was Buffy like he did . . . NOT do with Cordy. Of course, it was kind of hard, what with Anya’s constant cry of, “Oh! By the Pestilent Gods, Xander, I’m about to orgasm!” Hard to picture anyone else saying that. Not that he wanted to. Not that he was completely committed to Anya.
Whatever he had, it was making him delirious.
*****
Xander SO didn’t want to have that conversation . . . you know, the one about relationships and where they were going. And then he’d beat up Spike for Anya and they’d had makeup sex in Giles’ bathroom and further conversations of that type were sort of inevitable. Especially now that they could talk again. Why did they have to be able to talk again? It was so much easier when he had an excuse for being non-verbal.
“Xander?!”
Xander shook himself out of his reverie. Last thing he needed added to the list of conversation topics was his listening skills.
“So . . . what kind of relationship do we have and where is it progressing towards?”
Xander shuddered internally. ‘I DON’T KNOW!!!” he wanted to scream. Relationship. That word. It made him cringe. And now it was thrown around a lot since he let the G word slip. Stupid syphilis.
“We . . . hang out.”
Anya gave him a blank look. “Hang out? I didn’t realize that orgasms were a regular part of ‘hanging out.’ I guess I should be having orgasms with Willow or Spike or Giles now too!”
Xander looked thoughtful for a second and then suddenly became mortified. “No! Of course not! I . . . we . . . you know you’re my girlfriend. I care about you. Let’s just . . . leave it at that for now!”
*****
“Look—”
Xander cut him off. “Jesse, if that is your real name, stop it.”
Jesse’s features darkened. “Fine. This is me stopping it. I have a deal for you, Xander, my man. I need the slayer.”
Xander paused and then began to giggle. “What are you, high?”
After a moment’s consideration Jesse replied. “No.” He thought about it a bit longer. “Yeah, no.”
“You spent too long below. What in the great googley moggley makes you think I’ll hand Buffy over to some possibly-Jesse ghost-thing?”
“Because I offer a trade.”
Xander turned to leave, out of humour. “I’m not interested.” He headed for the door to his room, suddenly needing some air.
“Anya is going to die.”
Xander stopped cold.
He turned slowly to face his once friend.
“What did—”
“You heard me. But I can stop it. I can make it go away. All I need is the slayer. And what is she, really, compared to the love of your life?”
*****
Anya lay on his chest and basked. He’d said he loved her! It had taken a while, granted, but he’d finally said it. Out loud. Not with just gestures or gifts or really great sex, but with the words: I. Love. You.
I love you.
I love you.
And she loved him too.
*****
Xander had the ring. It felt heavy in his pocket, but in a good way. In a life altering way. In a, this will be one of the best days of his life way.
His timing couldn’t be better. It was romantic and Anya would love it. He knew she was nervous, but this would prove to her that it was all right to have faith in the future, because he was sure there was going to be one . . . hopefully. There would be one, because he had faith in Buffy. She would save the world, like she always did, and he and Anya would live a long and wacky life with many wacky and literal children . . . and the whole thing sort of looked like a zany 1950s comedy of errors in his head, but he knew he wanted it.
He had to thank Buffy for helping him to realize his feelings for Anya. If her relationship with Riley hadn’t crashed and burned so spectacularly, he would never have known just how much he was taking Anya for granted. He hadn’t realized that, until then, he had never even told her he loved her. But he did. With all his soul. And tonight he would ask her to be his wife.
*****
Xander stared, mouth open. He was having a hard time processing this information. Anya . . . no. It was too much. And . . . it wasn’t true! Of course it wasn’t true. He smirked.
“Yeah, and Spike will spontaneously crumble to dust.”
“Is that what needs to happen for this deal to work, cause let me tell you, it can be arranged.”
Xander gaped.
“Would you like to see it? How it happens?”
Xander stared as Jesse came closer.
“She won’t even see it coming. A knife from behind. It’ll practically cut her in half.”
Xander shut his mouth, suddenly finding it very dry. His throat was closing up. It was hard to breath.
“You won’t be there to help her. Maybe you could have done something, but you’ll be so busy helping Buffy that she’ll be alone.”
Xander swallowed with great difficulty. He tried to deny what Jesse was saying, but no sound came out.
“You’ll look, but you won’t be able to find her. And there’ll be no body. At least, not one that people can recognize—”
Finally he made his vocal cords work. Pictures were forming in his mind. Anya alone, Anya being cut down from behind. Anya dying alone.
“Stop it!” Xander wanted to take a swing at his once-friend, but what was the point. His fist would probably pass straight through.
“So, do you believe me now?” Jesse had a concerned look on his face that Xander was itching to wipe off. “I’m telling you straight, Xander. Anya will be an unfortunate victim of the events that will follow this conversation. But you can stop it. All I need is the slayer.”
*****
The rain beat down on his head. He didn’t really care, he just kept walking. As hard as the rain was falling, it was not nearly enough to distract him now. He’d done it. He’d left.
Walking out on Anya. Something he had to do . . . for his sanity, right? He wasn’t ready, not for marriage. That was…that was a commitment. That was . . . it was something adults did. He had a job, he had a car, he had an apartment, he had the trappings, but he wasn’t an adult, not really.
How could he go through the motions with Anya? How could he let her become his mother, a sad and regretful woman, living with a bitter, drunk old man? He was finally thinking about her and not just what he wanted.
He pushed back the voices in his head, the ones screaming at him, telling him he wasn’t doing this for Anya, that he was being selfish. He’d always kept a part of himself back from her. No matter how much he loved her, part of him had been separate. The part that Buffy had unwittingly broken when she’d said no to the Spring Fling; the part that Cordy had taken with her after she’d found out about Willow; the part that Faith had ripped from him that night in her motel room.
Sometimes he felt like Anya was the most embarrassing person around. Like, how did he get stuck with someone, again, who knew nothing about tact and how to behave, who was, if possible, worse than Cordy. The amount of times he’d flushed when Willow had given him The Look after a patented Anya comment. The times when he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he was even with her.
He tried to focus on those times, although it made him sick—sicker—with guilt. He loved Anya. Why was he remembering her this way?
It made it easier. It was her fault. He had to protect her from himself. The self that would grow increasingly frustrated with her faux pas, her literalness, her greed. It was her fault, and he was protecting her.
*****
Xander was frozen to the spot. Jesse was telling the truth. He just knew it. He had this horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something about this was just too awful to be faked. I told the truth all the time when I was evil.
Anya was going to die. He’d seen it.
And he could stop it.
He closed his eyes firmly, clenching his fists and Jesse smiled.
*****
He downed another beer. He missed her. It was like a part of him was gone. What had Oz said to Willow? A torso. He was missing his torso.
He wished he could be near her, listen to her count her money or say something unintentionally funny about old people. He wished he could hear her describe something everyday in a way that was so Anya.
He wanted his torso back, he wanted her back. He didn’t want to get married.
Flaw in the plan.
How could he . . . he couldn’t go see her. She had been in vengeance for a reason. Plus, she could definitely kick his ass.
But . . . he needed her. He loved her. He’d screwed everything up. Again.
She was the one. It was funny how perspective clicked into place after beer. And losing everything—don’t forget that. It was funny how you could suddenly realize that you’d completely taken someone for granted and now there was nothing you could do . . .
He could talk to her. He could talk to her! She loved him too, she’d forgive him! Maybe he could marry her . . . someday. She must be worried sick about him!
He grabbed his coat, as he made for the door, not caring that he wasn’t going to win any points in the ‘looking good’ category.
It’s funny how fast perspective clicks out of place again.
*****
Xander hugged Anya with all his might and tried to let go. He couldn’t.
It had been months since Jesse-as-the-First had come to him and told him the unthinkable. It had been months since ‘the deal’ had been brought before him. And tomorrow they were going into the Hellmouth to probably die, but hopefully close it forever.
And tomorrow was when the unthinkable would happen. But he’d chosen months ago and it was too late to take anything back. How many times had he learned that the hard way? Some choices stuck with you forever.
He held Anya tighter and tried not to let go.
*****
Xander lay on his back, the lumpy motel room mattress ensuring that he would never be quite comfortable, and let Willie Nelson wash over him. Always On My Mind. It would be ironic, if he hadn’t chosen the song specifically.
Anya had died a month ago. Anya had died a month ago, and he thought of nothing else. Not that he lay on his bed and did nothing else. He worked, he traveled, he recruited new slayers, he thought of her. And when he got home he’d put on the music. Music of pain, he’d told Buffy years ago. And what did he know of pain then? A high school boy, passed over by his crush for a broodingly handsome vampire who had a tendency to go evil and kill people. It had hurt then, to find out he was second best, but the scale of hurt kept getting reset.
It was his fault she died. It had to be. There was something, something he hadn’t done, which allowed her to die. He should have been there, helping her. He should have taken that damn deal. Maybe he should have even died with her. But he’d run off to do what Buffy had asked, hoping that the slayer would be able to fix it somehow.
When things get rough he just hides behind his Buffy . . . she hadn’t been wrong. And this time, look what happened.
Buffy had been his first big crush. He’d always love her. And now, after what happened to Spike, she was really the only one he could talk to. He understood what she was going though. Of course, that meant that he’d actually had to admit that she might have had feelings for Spike, which had taken him some time. But once he got past his hatred of another vampire who had a tendency to go evil and kill people, he’d realized that this was, again, something that Buffy could help him with. And this time it was also something he could help her with.
And through talking to Buffy he finally realized that she’d always been the one. Not the one in the Twoo Wuv sense, because he’d gotten over that idea years ago. He and Buffy were not destined for love of that kind. She’d always been his priority, though. Her mission, her drive, her heroics, just . . . her. She was always of the utmost importance.
That demon at the wedding, he’d know something that the First hadn’t. He presented a future where Xander was a bitter old man, no longer able to help his friend and taking it out on his wife. He wasn’t himself if he wasn’t helping Buffy.
And that just made it worse. Anya was dragged in. Anya was lost. Anya paid the consequence of his priorities. Did it make it better that he lost the second most important person in his life to the first?
No.
Never.
Anya was gone and it was because of him. He should never have brought her into this life. But then, who was he without it?
He stood by his choice. It was hard, though. Every night he woke up from nightmares of the day she died. In some he was looking for her body, in some he was reliving the visions that Jesse had placed in his mind, the split second knife to the back, the look of shock on her face, her body lying in the rubble as he called her name, knowing deep down that what The First/Jesse had warned him about had come to pass.
He sat up from his bed. Turning off the music, he reached for the phone. He took a moment to dial a long distance number and waiting as the phone rang.
“Hello?”
Xander smiled. “Hey, Buf.”
“Hey Xander. What’s up?”
Xander lay back down on his lumpy motel bed. “You know, snot-nosed slayers, shocked parents, splinters. The usual.”
Buffy laughed.
There was a brief silence. “So, how you doing, Xander?”
Xander sighed. “I was listening to Willy Nelson.”
He heard sadness in her voice. “Always on My Mind?”
“Yeah.”
“ . . . Yeah.”
The End
|
|
|
|
Rave
Barbie Girl (Becca)
biscuit07
Filmtheory (Jim)
Malice (Jess)
MebbtheScribe (MichaelB)
Reset (Allie)
Shay (Marrisa)
somnambulist29 (Shea)
Stephanie Loss
Wendyness (Wendy)
Questions?Contact Us
|
|
All stories on this site have been archived with the authors' consent. Do not copy these stories for your own uses without the express consent of the author themselves. Buffy the Vampire Slayer TM and Angel TM are © UPN, WB, Fox and its related entities. All photos on the site are © UPN, Fox, Warner Bros, and/or their respective owners. No profits are being made by use of these images.
Powered with the assitance of eFiction.
|
|
|
