"I don't understand why we have to go running every time she calls us,"
Anya sulked. She and Xander were driving through the desert, the
temperature scorching for the time of year. The Jetta made nice time along
the desolate highway. She handed Xander the water bottle.
"Honey, Buffy hasn't called the cavalry together once since we moved. She wouldn't even call us- last time. And it's been a year and a half. It'll be nice to see the 'ol Scooby gang together." Xander didn't want to be impatient with Anya. Instead he tried to make it seem more appealing, like they weren't heading blindly into some unknown danger; Anya never liked that much.
She didn't answer him, just snatched the water bottle back, and looked out into the wasteland.
"Look An, you didn't have to come. But if my help's needed to save the world, then yes, I'm going to use my vacation time."
Anya understood where he was coming from but refused to let herself be budged. "She can handle it. We don't even know if it's an apocalypse. And even then she handled the last apocalypse on her own."
The air was heavy between them. Xander spoke levelly, remembering what he was forced to by Anya's statement. "Yeah, and she almost didn't make it." He was struck with images of Buffy lying motionlessly in the hospital bed for three days.
A year and a half ago, a few months after Willow and Tara had left, Xander had been offered a job in Reno, working for a growing construction firm, specializing in resorts. Xander of course took the offer (almost a little too eager to leave Sunnydale, he thought to himself bitterly), and Anya closed the magic box in Sunnydale and reopened it in Nevada.
With all of her friends gone, and not wanting to ask them back, to put themselves back into the danger they had just left behind, Buffy attempted to avert an apocalypse by herself. She succeeded, but not before she was brutally beaten. Even for a Slayer. She, nearly dead, was found by two early morning joggers in Weatherly Park. It was still a wonder to all that she had been able to stay alive a night defencelessly in the infamous park. It made Xander's blood run cold to even think what could have happened.
She was rushed to Sunnydale ICU. Spike didn't leave her side for the entire three days, didn't rest once. That was the turning point for Xander, who began to see him in the same light and respect he had been beginning to show the summer when Buffy had been. gone.
The group made a pact on the first night they were all together; if Buffy ever asked for help, they would be there, no matter what. She was never to find out about it, or she would never ask them to come, feeling they'd be bound solely by the promise, which was really nothing more than cementing what they were already intending to do themselves.
Which was why Xander and Anya were in the desert, somewhere between Reno and Sunnydale, melting.
"Let's play a game," Anya announced, and Xander took this as an unspoken peace offering. "Twenty questions. Go."
"Okay. Is it bigger than a breadbox?"
"'Bout the same size."
"Is it a bread box?"
"Nope."
"It's alive?"
"Yes, it's alive."
"Is it a type of demon?" (With Anya it had about a 50/50 chance of being a specimen of demon.)
"Nope. Sixteen."
"So, it's the same size as a breadbox and it's alive. Huh. Is it a b- pet?" Xander had very nearly said the B-word (Bunny).
"Not what people like to call a pet but the same idea. Now fourteen. You're getting very close."
"Small, alive, and like a pet but not? Hmm. Do we have one?"
"Not yet, but we will."
"All right." Xander tried to think in Anya terms. That was the real trick to this game he had discovered after playing it endlessly for twelve hours when they had driven to the East Coast. "Small, alive, like a pet but not, and we'll be getting one."
Anya was surprised by how long this was taking him. She counted silently, drumming her nails against the dashboard.
1..2.3.
"Babies!!! Are we having babies? No, one, we're having just one. Right? Are we having one?" Xander stopped the car in the middle of the highway and Anya was silently thankful she had had the forethought not to tell him while driving through town.
"Yes, we're going to have a baby. One. A boy," she told him matter of factly. His face was red, she decided, but in a good way. That book she'd gotten yesterday after the doctor's appointment said to expect shock at the beginning. Sure she and Xander had talked about kids, but nothing had ever been planned.
After a pause, Xander unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door.
"Xander, what are you doing? People drive on roads."
He climbed out and went around to her side of the car. He opened it and began to undo her seatbelt. He led her out of the car and held her around the waist.
"Now people dance on them," he replied simply, and began to hum the only happy Billie Holiday song he knew.
"Honey, Buffy hasn't called the cavalry together once since we moved. She wouldn't even call us- last time. And it's been a year and a half. It'll be nice to see the 'ol Scooby gang together." Xander didn't want to be impatient with Anya. Instead he tried to make it seem more appealing, like they weren't heading blindly into some unknown danger; Anya never liked that much.
She didn't answer him, just snatched the water bottle back, and looked out into the wasteland.
"Look An, you didn't have to come. But if my help's needed to save the world, then yes, I'm going to use my vacation time."
Anya understood where he was coming from but refused to let herself be budged. "She can handle it. We don't even know if it's an apocalypse. And even then she handled the last apocalypse on her own."
The air was heavy between them. Xander spoke levelly, remembering what he was forced to by Anya's statement. "Yeah, and she almost didn't make it." He was struck with images of Buffy lying motionlessly in the hospital bed for three days.
A year and a half ago, a few months after Willow and Tara had left, Xander had been offered a job in Reno, working for a growing construction firm, specializing in resorts. Xander of course took the offer (almost a little too eager to leave Sunnydale, he thought to himself bitterly), and Anya closed the magic box in Sunnydale and reopened it in Nevada.
With all of her friends gone, and not wanting to ask them back, to put themselves back into the danger they had just left behind, Buffy attempted to avert an apocalypse by herself. She succeeded, but not before she was brutally beaten. Even for a Slayer. She, nearly dead, was found by two early morning joggers in Weatherly Park. It was still a wonder to all that she had been able to stay alive a night defencelessly in the infamous park. It made Xander's blood run cold to even think what could have happened.
She was rushed to Sunnydale ICU. Spike didn't leave her side for the entire three days, didn't rest once. That was the turning point for Xander, who began to see him in the same light and respect he had been beginning to show the summer when Buffy had been. gone.
The group made a pact on the first night they were all together; if Buffy ever asked for help, they would be there, no matter what. She was never to find out about it, or she would never ask them to come, feeling they'd be bound solely by the promise, which was really nothing more than cementing what they were already intending to do themselves.
Which was why Xander and Anya were in the desert, somewhere between Reno and Sunnydale, melting.
"Let's play a game," Anya announced, and Xander took this as an unspoken peace offering. "Twenty questions. Go."
"Okay. Is it bigger than a breadbox?"
"'Bout the same size."
"Is it a bread box?"
"Nope."
"It's alive?"
"Yes, it's alive."
"Is it a type of demon?" (With Anya it had about a 50/50 chance of being a specimen of demon.)
"Nope. Sixteen."
"So, it's the same size as a breadbox and it's alive. Huh. Is it a b- pet?" Xander had very nearly said the B-word (Bunny).
"Not what people like to call a pet but the same idea. Now fourteen. You're getting very close."
"Small, alive, and like a pet but not? Hmm. Do we have one?"
"Not yet, but we will."
"All right." Xander tried to think in Anya terms. That was the real trick to this game he had discovered after playing it endlessly for twelve hours when they had driven to the East Coast. "Small, alive, like a pet but not, and we'll be getting one."
Anya was surprised by how long this was taking him. She counted silently, drumming her nails against the dashboard.
1..2.3.
"Babies!!! Are we having babies? No, one, we're having just one. Right? Are we having one?" Xander stopped the car in the middle of the highway and Anya was silently thankful she had had the forethought not to tell him while driving through town.
"Yes, we're going to have a baby. One. A boy," she told him matter of factly. His face was red, she decided, but in a good way. That book she'd gotten yesterday after the doctor's appointment said to expect shock at the beginning. Sure she and Xander had talked about kids, but nothing had ever been planned.
After a pause, Xander unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door.
"Xander, what are you doing? People drive on roads."
He climbed out and went around to her side of the car. He opened it and began to undo her seatbelt. He led her out of the car and held her around the waist.
"Now people dance on them," he replied simply, and began to hum the only happy Billie Holiday song he knew.