End
By: Aurorarose13
Time ticked slowly by as though it no longer meant anything in the realm of men. The bedroom remained relatively unchanged, save the Barq's all over the carpet and the half-filled suitcase on the bed. Xander stared in disbelief. There, standing a bit dumbfounded behind a pile of clothing was his fiancée, the woman he was to marry in a little over a day. Anya blinked a few times before the scowl materialized on her youthful, perfect face. "You're late," she snarled, heaping dresses and skirts into the open suitcase.
"I guess so. Or early as you might see it now." She nodded only briefly and continued tossing socks into the open pockets of space left. "What the hell are you doing, An?"
Anya hurled a ball of socks at Xander's head, which hit him square between the eyes. "What do you think I'm doing, numbskull! I'm packing up and getting the hell out of this, well, um, Hell!"
"But why?" he insisted, stepping closer to the enraged ex-demoness.
With a howl from Anya, several more rolled sock balls hammered into the side of Xander's cranium, and he was forced to dodge them like bullets as he moved toward her. "Why? Why? He asks me 'Why?'" she screeched to the clueless pillow. "Should I tell him?"
"The pillow says you should," Xander responded in an almost mocking tone of voice. That only got him a handful of hangers chucked at him.
Anya stamped her foot repeatedly as she whirled like a hurricane about the room. While picking up those spare socks and in between gasps for breath as well as composure, she answered him. "You don't love me anymore. Isn't that a good enough reason for leaving?"
"An, slow down," he ordered, grabbing her fiercely by the shoulders. "Tell me what's going on in here! What did I do wrong now?"
With a huff of breath, her glare beat him down in an instant. In a steady, suddenly calm voice, Anya declared, "If there's one thing you've ever learned from me, Xander, it was that a woman scorned is no woman to marry, especially not if her husband was the man who scorned her. Hands off this second." Obediently, Xander removed his hands from Anya and backed off a few comfortable feet. He twisted about nervously around the room, all the while staring at that now nearly full suitcase.
She continued, "I saw you today, in the park with Buffy. I saw the whole wretched thing. And not just that, Xander, I heard every last word, too."
"God," he exclaimed, "what is this? Spy on Xander week! It was just a talk. We worked things out."
"First of all, I wasn't spying. I was there to help coordinate the wedding that we were supposed to be having on Sunday."
"Going to have," Xander interrupted.
A wave of her fragile hand knocked those words out of the air instantaneously, as though they had never been offered up. "When Anyanka speaks, no one dares interrupt!" Her unusually strong voice rebounded off the walls and fell into Xander's lap. Anyanka? She had not changed back—that he could tell for a fact—so far, but it was obvious she was giving it very serious thought. The air pressing heavily upon them both, Anya continued, "Xander, I am going to finish packing and move out, away from this vampire-infested dump. I want to start a new life with none of this slaying garbage. I want to be as far away from the Slayer as I can get. That way you two can do whatever it is you want to do without me having to see or hear or interfere."
Xander looked frantically around the room, unsure of what to say or do. What in the name of God was going on around here? Had the whole Hellmouth gone mad? He looked at his hands to make sure he was real—really there. No, this was not a figment of his imagination. This was actually happening! "I don't understand why you're saying all of this. I didn't betray you. I told Buffy that I'd see her at the wedding on Sunday. If that's not laying things perfectly clear, I don't know what is."
"Then obviously you don't know anything!" she scoffed, folding a blouse neatly and snuggling it among the others.
"You're right, An," he began, moving slyly to her side to take a light hold of her wrist, "I don't know the first thing about anything except that I love you!" She laughed bitterly again. Anya looked Xander straight in his eyes, scrutinizing their honesty. "Please, listen to me. Don't walk out on me. We paid for this wedding; we've invested so much time into it… into us. I need you in my life. We can go on vacation after this and get away from Sunnydale. Just you and me and no Buffy for miles. Sandy beaches and steamy nights. That's what we need."
Finally, Anya surprised him with a glowing smile. She took a hand and gently pressed it to his cheek, eliciting a grateful grin that read: THANK YOU! "That's sweet, Xander. I think your head means well. At least it has its priorities straight." She tapped his noggin with his fist and kissed his forehead. "Unfortunately, I'm more concerned about your heart than your head." The snaps of the suitcase were the most horrifying sounds Xander had ever heard. It sounded like the snapping of a spine—his to be precise. "Don't worry, even if I go back into the revenge for hire business, I won't come back for you. I love you too much to ever hurt you. I can honestly say and understand this time that it is not your fault."
As she turned to march out of that door and out of Xander's life forever, the eternal Scooby reached out his arm to her and begged her to come back to him, to lay beside him on their bed, to wear his ring forever at their wedding ceremony in just one day. "Anya! Don't do this! Don't leave me here! I don't want you to go! I'll move Heaven and Earth if you'll stay and marry me."
A twisted smile twitched onto her face. Her eyes appeared teary and empty, as though she had left the most important half of herself behind with Xander. A horrid little laugh escaped those crooked lips, one with no merriment left in it at all. "You'd move Heaven and Earth to get me to stay, and yet you won't block my way out of here right now? It's the easiest things that we say we can do, but don't."
It was at that point Xander realized he was sitting on the end of the bed, his hands pressed tightly between his thighs. If he could ever look at himself and smack the crap out of himself, he would have chosen that exact moment. There he was, sitting like a dumb asshole on the bed, watching his would-be bride stroll out of their home, and all he could do was sit and stare. His limbs wouldn't move, his brain couldn't concentrate, and nothing was working right. What are you doing! he screamed at himself. Don't let your happiness slip away! But to his amazing surprise he heard his own voice speaking calmly, "Goodbye."
Anya's face dropped like a lead weight. With a tremor and a trembling sigh, she replied as best as she could, "Goodbye, Xander." There was a pause as if she wished to say more and couldn't wrangle it out, but instead she turned her back and slipped out. "I wish you all the luck and love in the world. Send my regards to Buffy and the gang." The front door opened and closed.
And Xander remained on the bed, hands pressed tightly between his thighs.
THE END