A/N: Oops, another Xander/Anya oneshot, again from Xander's POV. This one is sad, though, and it is post season seven, which means (spoilers!) Anya is dead. :-( This was just a little idea that popped into my head, as sad as it is. Hope you like!

Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon!

"She died saving my life," Andrew told me. My Anya. My sweetheart, my girl, my...sex poodle (though I don't wanna think about her that way now that she's...gone), my love. Gone.

"That's my girl," I replied, holding back tears that burned my eye. "Always doing the stupid thing."

I cried for nights, for at least a week after that. I never stopped loving her, I told her that. I loved holding her at night and kissing her, I loved her body and her eyes and her hair and most of all her soul. Her honesty, her rarely-shown but always-there sweetness. And she was sad. Not all the time, but she wanted to be liked, she wanted to be loved, and when her words were met with meaner words, I could see her face fall. I could see her eyes glint with a certain sadness. Her smile became fractured. Oh, Anya.

She told me, very shortly after the potential slayers came around, that she was pregnant. She was crying when she did, not an oh-woe-is-me, not a take-me-back-because-I'm-so-helpless-Xander cry. A true, honest, vulnerable cry. "I didn't want it to be like this," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

She didn't know what to do, but was planning for an abortion after the whole deal with the First. "We're gonna win this...and it's gonna be over...we're gonna be okay," she said when she told me, and I was unsure whether she was telling me or herself. She looked so tired then. I held her while she cried. She was just four weeks then, and she made sure no one knew. No one. And I couldn't tell anyone. I didn't want to.

But I did kinda want her to keep it, as selfish as that is.

(Wait. No. I'm not calling the baby "it". That's gross.)

I imagined us, together again, with our child. Maybe even happy. Living in a little town, getting jobs. Fighting, maybe. Fighting a lot, maybe. But loving. We never stopped loving. But when she died, the baby died, and I never even got to say goodbye.

There will never be another Anya in my life, and I'm afraid I'll never find anyone again. I don't know if I want anyone anymore. I want my Anya back. I want to hold her again. Oh, God, I'm crying again. Oh, I want Anya.

But my girl is gone. She's lost. Absent. My only hope is that she's happy.

Maybe one day, I'll be happy again too.