Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to Joss Whedon, who is THE MAN. Contains spoilers from the final episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. If you're looking for this to be about Spike, you're shit outta luck. Cuz this is about the warrior who's death was forgotten in the shuffle.

Fallen Warrior

Anya and Andrew...
She slashed one.
Dropped it.
I'm winning!
I'm terrified!
Then another one came from the side.
She turned--
--Mrs. Xander Harris, that is who I'll be...
--Aud.
--Anyanka.
--Anya.
--And the Bringer gutted her.
He stabbed her repeatedly.
And she was dead.
--Forever, Anya.

***

Xander knew.
The moment he saw Andrew, he knew.
Still, he asked him, "Did you see?"
Andrew was near tears. "I was scared. I'm sorry."
He pushed, harder than he had ever pushed for anything in his life. "Did you see what happened?" He searched Andrew's face. "Was she...?"
Andrew gazed at him. The tears were there... and so was the answer.
"She was incredible," Andrew told him. "She died saving my life."
God, no. Oh, God, no...
Xander put a hand on Andrew's shoulder. "That's my girl. Always doing the stupid thing."
The tears were there.... and so was the answer: I do, Anya.
I do.

--from the Season Seven Novelization, "Chosen", by Nancy Holder

Xander Harris watched the rain.

He thought of her.

He had no tangible reminders of her, since Sunnydale had become a giant crater marring the face of southern California. He only had memories…

He went outside, walking down the back stairs of the tiny house in the Los Angeles suburbs. The rain quickly soaked through his shirt, sticking it to his body. He knelt down in front of the small memorial he'd built to honor her memory. He didn't even have a picture of her.

Only memories, good times, bad times, apocalypses.

He remembers the first apocalypse he faced, when the Mayor of Sunnydale ascended to full Demon. Anya had run away then. Over time, she'd gotten stronger, faced her fears.

And she'd died fighting.

His tears melted into the rain as it ran down his cheeks.

"Anya," he whispered. The woman he had loved.

Now he just wanted to be able to say goodbye.

***

He was sleeping.

He was dreaming.

He was walking through the hallway of the school he had helped design, had helped to build. He reached the north hall, where Anya and Andrew had been stationed in the last battle against The First.

There was a young woman standing there, her back to him, dark hair pulled up in a ponytail, dressed in jeans and sandals, a tank top showing her tanned shoulders. His breath caught in his throat. He knew those shoulders, had touched them so many times in passion.

She turned.

"Anya," Xander said.

"Xander!" She said, smiling, and moved to him, throwing her arms around him. "Do you like my new hair?"

"It's different." Xander said, his voice cracking. The smile dropped from Anya's face.

"Oh," She said. "Xander. I died."

"I know," he said, his voice heavy with the tears that brimmed in his eyes and made his throat tight. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

Anya looked downcast. "Well, bye then," She said, and turned away, her shoulders slumped, as though she was defeated.

"I do, Anya," He said. "I'm sorry for all the things I did. I know that I said I did the right thing when I left you, but I lied. I need you, and I wish that you were here more than anything."

"Oh, Xander," Anya said, turning back around, tears glistening down her cheeks.

"I know you died for good reasons—so someone else could live, though I can't honestly say that Andrew was the right choice—but I want you back."

They embraced again, holding onto each other, his fingers clenching into the fabric of her shirt.

"Xander, I know that it's hard. But you have to let go, okay?" Anya said. "I lived for a long time, and you were the best part of all my years, and I'm glad that I had that. But someday, you're going to meet a girl that you can love as much, if not more than you ever loved or could have loved me. She won't be a demon and she won't have a boss that will make you leave her at the altar.

"You'll marry her and you'll have kids and friends and maybe Buffy and Willow will live close by. I don't know. I don't know what's in store for them, because right now, I only care about you." Anya took a deep breath.

"You're going to wake up in a few minutes. It'll still be raining, but you don't have to cry for me anymore, Xander. I'm free now. I did my penance."

"I don't want to leave you," Xander said, his voice rough. Anya looked up at him.

"The Powers That Be aren't giving you that choice," Anya said. "When the day comes, that you're married and having kids, name one after me, okay? She'll understand. I promise."

Anya kissed him softly on the lips.

Xander woke up.

He lay in bed, listening to the rain on the roof, against the windows, and the faint streetlight making patterns through the water on the glass.

He felt lighter, somehow. He knew that his dream had been a gift, thanks for helping the cause and fighting the good fight.

He let go.

In the summertime, he met a girl in a café. She had dark hair, pulled up in a bouncy ponytail, and wore washed out jeans, a white tank top, and white sandals. Her name was Audrey.

Audrey. Aud. Anya.

This was the woman Anya had told him about, he knew it.

True to the dream, they were wedded two winters later, snow settling onto the ground in a tiny town in Northern California. His first daughter was named Anya.

Named for a warrior fallen in a great battle.

Named for the woman who would always hold a place in his heart.