"What baby? I don't see a baby," Anya sputtered, quickly scanning the room in case a little squirming bundle had somehow wriggled its way into the shop without her notice.
Buffy's gaze dropped from Anya's wide-eyed innocence to the gentle swelling of her midriff. She twisted her lips as she searched for a delicate way to explain.
In the end, she didn't need to. Anya spied her copy of "What to Expect When Your Expecting", still opened to the chapter outlining the eighteenth week. Her innocent expression dissolved. "Oh, Xander's baby." Her hand dropped to her stomach in an automatic display of protection.
Buffy took a step nearer the newly returned vengeance demon but halted when Anya stumbled back away from her. Instead, she decided to try a more vocal approach to the problem.
"Is the baby—okay? I mean, you are a demon again and that, well, that can't be good…"
"The doctor says the baby is fine and healthy and that there's nothing to worry about. He should know, he's a very highly skilled demon obstetrician."
"I'm glad," Buffy assured her. A long pause preceded her next statement, "You haven't told Xander yet, have you?"
Anya's eyes hardened. "How could I? He won't speak to me or even be in the same room with me. How could I tell him I'm pregnant when he won't talk to me? He probably won't even believe it's his, and it couldn't be anyone else's. It's not like it could be Spike's baby, and Xander was the only one up until that stupid fight and the alcohol." Anya paused for a moment in her rant, gasping for breath before plunging forward. "It isn't supposed to be like this! The books all say how happy I'm supposed to be but I'm not happy—I'm miserable. Tara's dead and no one will talk to me and Xander's gone and I'm getting fat and I just want everything to go back the way it was but it can't!"
Buffy stood dumbfounded by the other woman's outpouring of emotion. "I'm sorry. You're right and I'm sorry but maybe it can still work out."
Derision filled Anya's attitude. "Even if it could—I'm a vengeance demon now."
Buffy nodded, her thoughts far flung from the Magic Box. "Yeah, that does make it a little harder, but you and Xander," she said emphatically, "You were always 'right' together, even when the world was about to end, you somehow clicked. You were my light at the end of the tunnel, my proof that happiness was a possibility despite all the evil that abounds, especially here in Sunnydale. There's got to be a way for you to be able to fix this. If you and Xander can't make love work, what chance do any of the rest of us have?"
Anya repeated, "But I'm a vengeance demon now. I wasn't before."
"Yes you were, back when you first came to Sunnydale. And you became human again."
Anya watched as Buffy began to pace in agitation, the dizzying motion sending new waves of nausea through her.
"Do you love him?"
The question caught her off guard. "Xander? Of course I love him, I'm having his baby," she whispered.
Buffy nodded as if she had already known the answer. "I'll be back, I promise. And I'll try to smooth things over with everyone else too."
Anya watched as the slayer darted out of the shop and tossed up a hasty wave as she passed in front of the window.
When the store was again empty, she returned to the counter, sinking down onto a wooden stool to rest her feet as she scanned her newly acquired books. She wondered whether or not Gilgamesh or Durga would be good names for the baby.
*** ** ***
Xander hooked his foot on the door and swung it shut with a resounding thud. The apartment echoed the dull sound, reminding him that he would be spending yet another night alone.
Walking into the kitchen, he set a bag on the counter and glanced forlornly at the pile of dishes that littered the sink and countertop, indicating far too many solitary meals. Deciding to ignore the dishes, he opened the bag and lifted out a bundle wrapped in brown paper as well as the ruined frame from the on-site office. The glass fit perfectly in the frame and he slid the backing in neatly, taking a moment to polish the gleaming surface to an unmarred perfection.
Memories of a happier time stared back at him as he set the picture upright on the counter.
Pulling the second bag closer to him, he lifted out the six-pack he'd picked up and twisted open one of the long necks. He hated drunks and what alcohol did to them, he hated anything that reminded him of everything he had left behind in his parents' house, but he reasoned that he was alone in the apartment, no one would be the wiser if he indulged just this one time. Besides, how much better was he than his father? He had succeeded in hurting Anya just as badly as his father had ever hurt his mother, but he had done it under the guise of love and protection.
After staring at the beer for what felt to him like an eon, he downed it and twisted open another. It would be a long night indeed. Just him and his memories of Anya and everything he'd destroyed.
(more is coming soon, I'm hoping it will lighten up in the next chapter… thank you all for taking the time to read this and let me know that you're enjoying it)