World's End by Heronymus

Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All characters and properties in this fiction fall under the ownership of their respective copyright and trademark holders; that includes, but is not limited to: Mutant Enemy; Joss Whedon; Fox; Warner Brothers; Isabel Coixet, Nanci Kincaid, and Milestone Productions Inc.; the makers of Apples to Apples; and various other parties not named but not excluded. Infringement of these rights is neither expressed nor implied; usage of these characters and properties is expressly without the permission of the respective holders and indicates no surrender of intellectual property. This work of fiction was created without the intent to generate profit, and is distributed solely as a free exercise. In other words: I don't own 'em, wouldn't have done things the same way anyway, so please don't sue.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Sure! Please let me know, though.
Feedback: I'm a slave to it. Please!
Spoilers: Through S5's The Gift.
Author's Notes: Inspired to finish up my tour of the major characters in the BuffyVerse, I was stuck until I saw the amazing and moving My Life Without Me starring Sarah Polley. Then, I knew what happened to Xander and Anya. See the movie, read the book – the writing of Nanci Kincaid is much better than I am.
Pairing: Xander/Anya

It's funny, that the world can end and no one notices, they just keep on doing the same things they were doing, like going to the grocery store for bar-b-que potato chips and twenty-four packs of diet caffeine-free soda. Or even, that you can be driving along, coming home from a day of work, trying to get the sheetrock dust off the new tie that your girlfriend got you, and suddenly realize, with a pain in the chest that makes you pull over and try to breathe, that not only did the world end, but you were there when it happened.

Oh, the universe kept going; she saved the universe. But the world Xander and the rest of them lived in, the world with Buffy, ended forever that day, that moment. He drove over to Revello Drive, because going home to the apartment meant being alone, and being alone wasn't something he could handle just now.

Tara opens the door, even before he knocks. She must have heard his tires as he slid to a halt at the curb.

There was a rock in his throat, and he couldn't talk around it, couldn't swallow it, couldn't breathe past it. A pain in his chest and his arm hurt and he couldn't breathe, couldn't talk.

Tara steps out, grabbing him as his knees give way, and he crumples onto the concrete slab that made up the front porch. Things had gone all grey around the edges, and he could see the black metal of the porch light in the center of his vision, and it seemed to be getting farther away. And he could see Tara's face, and Willow's wrinkled brow, and he could hear Dawn's voice but he couldn't see her face and things were getting very far away.

The murmur of voices woke him up. That, and the incessant beeping of the machine next to him. Opening his eyes, Xander could see tile ceiling. Hospital, of course; he'd recognize that tile anywhere. Could you identify the tile if you saw it again, sir? Oh, yes, he could pick this tile out of a lineup. This tile was the Usual Suspects, Kevin-Spacey-tile-equivalent. It stood next to the Gabriel-Byrne-morgue tiles and at the other end from the Kevin-Pollak-Funeral-Home tiles.

He flexed his left hand, feeling the IV needle in the back of it, and felt his right hand shift a bit, and it came to him that there was someone holding it, and he turned his head and looked down, to see Anya's hair spread out across the sheets, her head resting on this thigh, eyes closed, face lined in a frown even in sleep. His left thumb automatically found the ring on her finger, a rather Pavlovian response: see the fiancée, feel the ring. It was the test of reality, and not an entirely theoretical reaction, seeing as how this was Sunnydale. But that was over now; the Hellmouth closed by the same magic that closed the doors between the universes. The tide of Evil stemmed forever, with one leap. One death, and everyone gets to live happily ever after. The world ends, and life goes on.

Still slightly muzzy from whatever drugs they were pumping through the IV, he carefully squeezed Anya's hand softly in his, and stroked her hair with the other hand, a bit clumsier than intended. Her eyes opened, focusing almost instantly on his face, and just for a moment the worry-lines faded, and the beautiful, beautiful face of his beloved shone through, when she smiled at him. That smile, Xander thought, makes it all worth it. And then he made a mental note to come back to that, as the frown reappeared on Anya's face and tears started to form in the corners of her eyes.

She sits up, her hair mussed, and frowns at him, and has to swallow twice before she spoke, in a voice watery and waivery with relief, grief, and anger.

"My middle name, huh? I must really be in trouble." His own voice was scratchy and weak, taking a bit of the fun out of his joking nature. "What happened?"

He hears the voice in the doorway, but he doesn't turn; he was still gazing at his beautiful, beautiful girl. And still marveling at that thought.

Xander shakes his head. "Somehow, I don't think 'minor' and 'heart attack' belong in the same sentence together."

The doctor makes himself busy checking the machines, and the chart, and eventually takes his pulse and listens to his chest, all the while talking at him, but Xander just looked. Anya is apparently intent on listening to what the doctor has to say, however; she doesn't notice him staring until the doctor leaves again, and she turns back to him, in full crisis-handling mode.

Anya leans over the bedrail, and kisses him, and it's a gentle, loving, almost chaste kiss, her lips against his. Bad breath, stubbly beard, greasy hair and all, she kisses him. And he realizes that this is what love is: the hospital kisses and the late nights and the fights and the arguments and the worrying about the car payment.

Anya snuffles again, and the tears fall onto the front of his hospital gown. "I know. I love you, as well. But I will be very unhappy if you let this happen again. Possibly enough to go without orgasms for a prolonged period of time."

Which of course is when the rest of the Scoobies show up: Willow, Tara, and Dawn come through the door, all to greet and hug and comfort him. But not Buffy; never again will Buffy come to visit him in the hospital.

And through the chatter he thinks that, on the other hand, Buffy will always be with them. That whenever they are together, there will be a Buffy-shaped hole in the circle. And that's OK, too. If the world ends, you should remember, even if no one else does.

"...thinking we could set you up in the guest room, so Anya can still work and someone will be around to keep an ear out for you." Dawn's voice is bright and happy. The guest room. They mean Buffy's room, of course, though everything in it was boxed up and stored away, except for some pictures and a trinket or two. Life goes on, after all.

"Yes, but," Anya says, her voice back to it's traditional forward-momentum tone, "it would allow me to keep the shop open normal hours, and with you not working my income is vital to our well-being. I approve of this situation, especially since no one in the house will be sharing orgasms with you."

Dawn does a little-girl hop and laughs and claps, and Willow and Tara smile, and Xander thinks that this moment is the first moment in a long time that everyone has been happy together. Even with the specter of Buffy haunting them.

Checkout is a familiar process, and the wheelchair brings him to the sliding doors of the entrance, where Buf – where Dawn's Jeep Cherokee is waiting. The ride to the Summer House is quiet, but there are streamers and punch and a bit of music playing in the background when they arrive, and Tara has made some veggie dip that Xander professes loudly to dislike but secretly thinks is delicious, despite the fact that it's so good for you that you get healthier just standing next to someone who's eating it. There is laughing, and a game of Apples to Apples, and some little dancing, and then they just seem to precipitate onto the couch out of the air.

Anya is curled under his arm, and they share the couch with a sprawling Dawn, and Tara and Willow are curled up in the Comfy Chair together after the dishes are cleaned up and the food put away. The CD finishes, and the house is quiet. And a thought comes to Xander.

Dawn frowns at him. "William is out, tonight. We spotted a small nest last night on patrol, so he's handling them tonight. He figured on giving us the night off to welcome you home, Xander." The disapproval in Dawn's voice is particularly cutting. Xander nods sheepishly, and drops his head back, to look at the ceiling. The Benicio DelToro sheetrock-finish? Despite Xander's misgivings about the actual act, Spike’s – William's – chip-ectomy doesn't seem to have had any significant negative consequences. His...love, Xander supposed, for Dawn had acted as more of a guidance and conscience than the chip ever had. Redemption is possible for everyone, was the apparent lesson.

"I was really afraid I lost you." Anya's voice is very soft, but everyone hears it in the silence.

"It'll take more than a bum ticker to keep me out of your life," Xander jokes in response, trying to lighten the mood.

Anya looks up at him, and her face is streaked with tears, and Xander realizes that she has been crying for a while, perhaps since they had sat down.

"It's not a joke, Xander. I was so scared, and no one would tell me what was happening. And I saw you lying there in the bed and you were so pale, and I thought that you were going to die and I would never be married to you and I felt this pain in my chest, and for a moment I thought I was having a heart attack too, but it wasn't a heart attack like you had. It was just hurting."

Tara stands, disentangling herself from Willow, and comes over and kneels down in front of the couch, and puts her hand on Anya's knee. "Heartache. It happens, when you care about someone."

And Anya is holding on so tight to him, and the sobs are shaking her body like punches, and all he can do is hold her and pet her hair and tell her it's going to be OK.

Tara reaches up and pushes back Anya's hair, and lays her hand along the side of Anya's face, and slowly the sobs subside, the tears stop trickling. "Loss is a part of life, every life. The only options we have are to ignore it, to become hardened to it, or to accept it. And to make the most of what we have, while we have it."

Tara's eyes never leave Anya's face, even as she draws out tissue from her sleeve to wipe Anya's eyes and nose. "Being human is hard, harder than you'd think, isn't it?" Anya nods, taking the tissue and blowing her nose loudly. "It always is, even to us humans. It doesn't get any easier, either. We just...get better at pretending."

Xander looks away from the tableau to notice Dawn coming into the room with a bottle of wine and some glasses. She hands the glasses around, and then hands the bottle and the corkscrew to him, and he carefully opens the bottle, an old red wine that Giles sent after he got settled in England. It's not the magic wine he had before he left, but it's not bad.

Dawn pours all of them a glass. Willow looks askance, but Xander catches her eye, and shakes his head minutely. Dawn is growing up, and she knows her limits. They don't talk, but the wine seems to calm everyone a bit, easing their tensions, draining away the day.

The silence stretches on. Tara moves back to sit next to Willow, and Xander sips thoughtfully at his wine, feeling it spread through his body. And somehow, there is an easing in his chest, at the same time an idea forms in his head, rising from the depths: this is his family. His father and mother and all the screwed-up relatives don't matter; what matters are the people in this room, right now. Because sometimes the family you make is more important than the family who made you.

She looks up at him, and frowns, and gives him The Look, which generally means that he's said something stupid. "I'm working at the Box. I'm opening, Tara is closing. Why?"

"You have lots of dresses. And besides you and me and the judge, everything else is just wrapping paper. And the people in this room are all the family I need."

"Sure. I'll call over and schedule the judge, and you and I can wander down there once you're dressed and ready. Whadaya say?"

"Good. That's settled. Wills, will you be my Best Man? But without the Man parts?"

Just then, Spike turns up, entering through the kitchen, having skulked in through the back door.

"Ah! Spike! I need a Bridesmaid, and since Xander has a woman as a Best Man, you'll have to fill in as my Maid of Honor."

The appointment was at 4. Spike had snuck in through the basement tunnels, meeting up with them in the dark hallway outside the judge's chambers, which were all in the basement of City Hall. He had even dressed up for the occasion, in a classy dark grey suit and matching tie. Tara and Dawn had come in what Xander privately thought of as the "Renaissance Festival" dresses; peasant blouses under pastel corsets and flowing peasant skirts. Sometime during the day, Willow had taken time out from shopping with Anya to find, get fitted for, and rent a tuxedo, and she looked solemn but excited, standing hand-in-hand with Tara.

Anya was a vision. Forgoing the traditional trappings of a wedding ceremony, she had instead decided on something simple: a white gown with spaghetti straps, tight to her hips, with a low cut front and baring her back. The white satin was gorgeous against her skin, and the simple lines emphasized her long, graceful legs, clean shoulders, perfect neck. Xander thought, not for the first time, that he could curl against that neck and sleep forever there.

"But, Xander, the groom is not supposed to see the bride in her dress before the ceremony!"

He took her hands in his, leaned down and kissed her, and smiled. "We're almost ready to go in, Ahn. I think we'll be OK."

The bailiff opened the door, and nodded to the couple. "Her Honor is ready to see you now."

Standing in front of the desk, the judge in her formal black robe smiled at them, and took the hands of Xander and Anya in her own.

Xander looked around, seeing Dawn and Tara standing behind him, Willow and Spike beside him, and Anya with him in front of the judge. He smiled, not taking his eyes off of Anya.

"Judge, this is my family." He watched the tears well up in her eyes, and felt his own eyes start to water.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of our loved ones to declare the love of these two people, Alexander LaVelle Harris and Anya Christina Emanuella Jenkins, in the bond of matrimony before the state..."

It was a beautiful ceremony. As they walked into the sunlight, Anya on his arm and the heavy gold ring around his finger, he could feel the warmth on his face, smell the grass and the sea salt air, and hear the birds in the trees. Spike and Dawn would meet them at the Summer House, for a small reception; Willow and Tara walked behind he and Anya, entwined as much as decent in public. They walked through the bright, cool fall evening towards the car, and home, and married life.

He looked down at his hand, entwined with Anya's, her ring flashing on her finger, and realized that the world had ended again. The world of Xander's single life had just ended in the basement of City Hall, ended forever. And yet, the universe went on, and everyone lived. Not happily ever after, because happily ever after wasn't a real ending, just a place to stop telling the story, but the story of a life keeps going on until the end. And, like Buffy, sometimes it keeps going on, in the friends and family that go on, your life without you, on into the universe at the speed of light, the speed of life, forever.

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World's End

by Heronymus

Copyright © 2005

heronymus_waat@hotmail.com