Disclaimer: I own nothing – and Joss gave it up. – shrug – So, here ya go.
Author's Notes: Set in S7. Fateful episode. Spoiler-y, but who hasn't seen the finale here? In the states, I mean, not England.
Summary: Anya knows.
Rating: PG-13
Humans easily confused Anya. Though alive for a thousand plus years, witnessing birth, death, and then some more squalling births, she thought she would probably be a member of Human Understanders Anonymous. But she seemed to know less about them, than people who'd been human all their lives. Anya was beginning to understand them, too. She had lived, and loved, and lost, and been betrayed. When she experienced pain, she reveled in it, which separated her from everyone else. Though hardly a sadist by any standards, she liked to know the feeling of hey I'm alive and human, though she would never actually say that. And they say Anya said everything she thought. She didn't like the last pain. It was burning but cold, slicing, and in times that didn't match at all. Fast and slow. She didn't want that pain, to know what she inflicted. She made no difference. To everyone, Anya was a nuisance, not exactly the brightest, unnaturally greedy and slow to catch on. She hadn't affected the world any. She wasn't a hero, like Buffy, or Willow, or even stupid, funny Xander. Anya was just strangely literal, and a former demon. How many of them really trusted her? Would miss her? Anya wanted to live. She wanted to be old, and still dying her hair - - to tell hers' (and Xander's) grandchildren about how many apocalypses she survived. Proof that they could survive anything life threw at them. Anya wanted a pet -- not a dog, because they were loud, and needed attention which would take away from having sex, but cats were too indifferent. A rabbit was out of the question, and she wouldn't take a bird. It was caged. She understood what it was to be caged, when she was first rendered human. She felt cage in a fleshy cell, deteriorating and weak, hopeless and trapped. Maybe a child would be a suitable pet? But Xander pointed out that children weren't pets. Maybe she wouldn't have a pet – maybe a yacht? Anya had gotten her powers back – something she had wanted from the beginning. She didn't want it then, but maybe – if she used the job as an excuse…? Would she be better? Humans had done it all the time – but Anya wasn't human anymore.
And then she understood how stupid humans were. There were "right" and "wrong" and tact, and the fact that some humans were closer to the demon family than some demons were. After all, demon only meant "evil spirit", and didn't some people have ill will towards each other? Which made no sense. Even demons banded together against common enemy, such as the Slayer, unless they were being competitive, and showy, and stupid, and clearly male, whether they had the anatomy or not.
But she wanted to be human! That was the best thing. She had what she wanted – immortality, power… understanding. And she wanted to be them, with their pathetic problems and repressed "free" speech. And she was – she gave it up. She was willing to die – for a time. Anya still wanted to die, though she never said so, as she watched innocent girls' lives snuffed out – what would more than likely happen to them all, and much slower. But, with the prospect of winning, and a future ahead, Anya wanted to live – again. It took her 1124 years, but Anya knew many things.
Too bad Anya couldn't stop the blade slicing through her – shoulder to opposite hip. Anya never did know what people went through when they died by her hand. Anya would never know that she'd be missed – not by many, but missed nonetheless. Anya would never know that she saved someone, making her a hero in their eyes, making a difference to them. Never knew that they won the battle. Anya only knew that I don't like Death. It's cold, and sudden, and I'm deprived of the shiny white light that all those people say there is.