When She Was Wrong
J. Travis

Note: Once again, many thanks to Linne, the Red Pen Goddess, I've taken up much of her time. Yes, I am grateful for her skills and patience. (= Thanks also to those who review-it's more than a little appreciated. While Tara and Spike aren't involved in this portion of the tale, they'll be back in the next installment. That's a promise.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, FOX, and anyone else who actually owns a legal piece of the show and concept. I'm just borrowing a few of the characters for my dollhouse, and I promise to put them all back the way I found them.
 

Xander drifted in and out of consciousness. He knew someone, maybe even two someones, moved around him, but he couldn't see anything. A woman giggled relentlessly while a man said in an English accent, "You know, he'll thank us for this later. They all will, darling, now hit him again. I'm not fond of the more physical aspects required, but they are necessary this evening." That being said, Xander felt a blow to his lower back, and he slid towards darkness once again. He was vaguely aware of chanting and a sharp tug at his head. His last thoughts were of Anya and sissy hair pullers.

"Thank you for your help, Miss Kendall, the contents of the register belong to you, dear," said Ethan Rayne, "Just make it look good, and don't eat the victims. No marks but bruises, love." Ethan gathered Xander's hair and stashed it in a bag. One down, three more samples to get. As much as he loathed to admit it, he was going to help Rupert Giles.

"Sure thing, Boss," the bubbly Harmony said, "After this, I'm heading back to LA. Do you think your friend will help me get a job? Because I could really use the money, Ethan, there's a cute little apartment I'm just dying to have, and I so need new shoes. Mexico didn't turn out too well."

"It did for me, pet, don't worry about the job. After all, one good turn deserves another as the saying goes, and you certainly came to my aid," for all her annoying qualities, the vampire had most assuredly been a benefit to Ethan. Following his escape from a psychotic doctor with the Initiative, Ethan had wandered into the market district of a small Mexican town. Exhausted, starving, and bent on revenge, the sorcerer did the one thing he swore he'd never do again-he prayed. Perhaps God did indeed have a sense of humor because his rescue came in the form of Harmony Kendall. She didn't know Ethan, and she should've been more interested in a meal than helping him. Still, she had helped. Harmony carried him to her little underground hovel and even brought him a hot meal. She babbled incessantly about fashion, but listening was a small price to pay compared to dying in a back alley. He finally asked her why she saved him, and her reply was as flaky as French puff pastry, "I like your accent."

Soon, they discovered a common link in Sunnydale, but Ethan also discovered a very lonely young woman in the vampire. She seemed to bumble through all of her exploits, and she'd given up hunting because she was simply terrible at it. Harmony even complained about the mess the blood left on her clothes. Through her failures, Ethan saw a reflection of his own-though his were of a much grander scale.

When word passed through the demon communities of a Slayer's death and resurrection, Ethan realized he'd lost much of his anger and bitterness. He actually felt sorry for old Ripper. The few contacts Ethan still had didn't have good news; the information about the resurrection spell couldn't wait, but it must first be confirmed. Centuries earlier another Slayer was brought back, and her own Watcher was forced to kill the creature set loose upon an unsuspecting world. Losing a Slayer is bad enough, but regaining one that may or may not be a monster must be quite unsettling indeed. For once in his life, Ethan Rayne didn't have the desire to harm his former friend. Shaken from reverie, Ethan realized that company was upon himself and Harmony, "Come on now, dearest, it's time for us to leave."

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"Shhh, you're fine, Xander, try not to move. It looks like he was mugged, Willow," Buffy stated.

"No unusual marks or other oddness?"

"Not really-unless you count Anya. But she's not here hanging off him," the Slayer joked.

Willow barked with laughter, "She's quite the catch, eh? She'll probably name their children after presidents who made it on money. Meet little Andrew Jackson Harris!"

"Can you imagine what she wants us to wear to the wedding?" Buffy asked as she lifted Xander into the SUV, "Ugh, we'll have to call her and tell her where to get the car. I guess we should tell her Xander's with us too and he's okay. Do you think she worries?"

"Anya worry? Well, yeah. I mean, if it affects her sex life or checking account," Willow said and the two women giggled together.

Xander groaned a little, but he could hear every word his friends were saying about Anya. He knew Willow had a hard time accepting his fiance, but Buffy? This was not a welcome revelation. Eventually, he would have to discuss the issue with both of them, and it wasn't like Xander was feeling too great about the impending wedding himself. In truth, he was too afraid of his past to think he could change himself for the better; be the man his father never was. He loved Anya, but marriage was not what he wanted. To hear his friends didn't want to accept her was quite the blow.

As Willow started the car, Xander said in a gravely voice, "Where we going, ladies?"

"Oh my God! Xander, you're awake," for a minute Willow sounded exactly like she had in high school. That funny, yet sweet, mix of innocence and excitement trilled through her voice, "What happened? We should get you to the hospital, you know, concussions. I had one, remember? My head felt big, but Oz said it wasn't big at all. It was head sized, like yours. Oh, I'm so glad I found you before anything worse happened."

"Will, sweetie, breathe," Buffy directed.

"Yeah, I know. I'm just glad he's okay," Willow said, but Xander suddenly heard something oily and dark beneath all the concern. It disappeared before he could even be certain it was there.

"How'd you find me? And what the hell hit me?" Xander asked. He had vague impressions of the people from the gas station, and there was a familiarity about the voices, but it was nothing more than shadows of memories too shrouded for him to grasp.

"It's so weird, Xander, I saw your car at that gas station. There were no lights inside or signs of you outside. So, I stopped, and aren't you lucky I did! Xander, there was a mugger or something there getting in the cash register. Anyway," Willow continued, "I'm just glad I was late getting home too."

Buffy appraised Willow, "You heard someone there? Willow, you could've been killed if it was a human! Humans use guns when they rob convenience stores, Will, Xander's lucky he didn't get shot."

"I didn't see anyone at all though, guys, just heard 'em tromping out the back door. I was way more worried about Xander then chasing down looters," the witch smiled.

Xander, a little more alert, announced, "You do realize we just left a crime scene. You should've called the police. What if someone was there? Like, another victim?"

To his amazement, Buffy and Willow laughed. "Don't worry, Xander, I called from my cell. If anyone else is there, the police will handle it like they handle everything else." Buffy snickered at Willow's reply.

"Did you even check for anyone else?" Xander was stunned by the casual attitude his best friends affected.

"No, we were worried about you," Buffy answered, but she never really sounded concerned about anything anymore. For weeks, she was sad or angry, but Buffy's tone was different these past few days. It was just icy.

"Okay, whatever.... Buffy, shouldn't you be with Dawnie? It's kind of late for her to be alone. How'd you get here anyway?" This was too much for Xander. He just wanted to go home and talk with Anya, but Willow continued towards Revello Drive while she and Buffy chatted like always.

Finally, Buffy answered, "Patrol-girl as usual. I saw Willow and stopped. As for Dawn, I'm sure she's fine, Xand, everyone tells me to let go some-I'm going to," again Buffy and Willow broke into laughter. It no longer sounded innocent or even happy. Apparently, Willow Rosenberg and Buffy Summers were in the thrall of stupidity or smoking crack, and Xander refrained from saying anything else until they pulled into the Summers' driveway.

Thankfully, Dawn peeked through the living room curtain and waved happily at the three of them while Buffy carried Xander into the house. The carpenter didn't have much in the way of intuition, but the strangeness emanating off Buffy and Willow left trails of fear throughout Xander's intestines. He had the feeling he was climbing up ice-covered slopes in rubber flip-flops. It was the kind of sense you get when you know your world is about to slide from under your feet into a rapidly growing sinkhole. He wanted to believe the knock to his head was responsible for his emotional state, but Xander couldn't discount the quiet fear sneaking its way into his life.

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Dawn Summers leaped down the stairs taking three at a time. Whatever was happening, she was going to be a part of the fun! Okay, fun wasn't the best word she could think of, but she hated feeling left out of the loop. Anya had already arrived at the house at least an hour ago looking for Xander, but Dawn said she hadn't seen anyone since she got home from school. She assumed Buffy had to work an extra shift or had already started patrolling, and Willow was just late. Anya offered to stay; Dawn gratefully accepted, and the two women played cards until Anya burst into the tears and hid in the bathroom. Dawn begged her to come and talk. Unfortunately, Anya refused to comply and yelled at the teenager to tell her when Xander got there. There was finally some good news. All three original Scoobies were home.

"ANYA! They're here," Dawn shouted, "You want me to order pizza now?"

"Just send Xander upstairs," Anya spat in a shrill voice.

The door opened just as Dawn's feet hit the landing, but she was shocked to see Xander's current state.

"Xander! WHAT HAPPENED?"

"Hey, Dawnster, I don't think anyone in LA heard. You want to repeat that at a louder than crystal shattering decibel," Xander said smiling weakly.

"Oh! I'm sorry," the girl replied before screeching, "ANYA, XANDER'S HURT! COME DOWNSTAIRS!"

Buffy, Willow, and Xander cringed together while Dawn gave them each an apologetic look. "Sorry, I'll just go upstairs and knock... you know, politely."

Buffy glared at her younger sibling, "Good idea, Dawn, then we can talk about your career as circus ringmaster."

"Ringmaster?"

"With the yelling, you know, the loudness," Buffy snapped.

"Oh, yeah, that's not very funny, Buffy, your quips are usually much better," Dawn said in all seriousness as she turned to get Anya.

"Well, it's a good thing I don't do stand-up," the very annoyed Slayer replied.

Dawn couldn't resist the opening provided by her elder sister to crack, "That's for sure," and she ran up the stairs.

"Anya's here? Xander, do you know why?" Willow asked the injured man.

Xander, not in the mood for conversation simply shook his head and asked if Buffy and Willow would help him to the couch. As they lowered him to the cushions gently, Anya walked into the room. Her eyes and nose were red as roses, and she was sniffling. Obviously, Anya Jenkins spent the better part of her evening crying, but Xander couldn't even begin to guess why. It wasn't like she could've known what was happening to him. In her hand, was a crumpled wad of paper.

"Ahn, honey, I'm glad you're here," Xander murmured.

"Are you, Xander?"

Rattled he answered, "Of course, you're the first person I wanted to see."

Anya, accustomed to pain and death, shoved her personal feelings for Xander's safety aside. She was glad he was okay, but she wanted answers. Still, she hated to have this conversation in Buffy's house. She wanted neutral ground to discuss their problems privately, but this would have to do for the moment. Thankfully, Dawn showed a bit of insight and depth for once because she was already downstairs hectoring her sister and Willow into helping her with homework.

"I'm glad you're all right, Xander, do you need a doctor?" Her voice was stiff, formal and detached much to her fiance's surprise.

"Um..Ahn, honey? Is there something wrong? I mean, the last time I got hurt you got the nurse's uniform out and tended my wounds," Xander kidded, "You want to go home?"

Holding out the paper, Anya summoned her courage and said, "I want you to explain this, Alexander Harris, and then I want you to tell me if I need to pack my bags."

The crushed wedding vows, so seemingly insignificant in their tattered condition, held the promise of anger and broken hearts. Xander's heart wrenched because he already knew the answer when he whispered, "What is that?"

"Your vows, Harris. Your! Wedding! Vows! Maybe I should call them your non-wedding vows or do we chalk this up to bad writing skills, Xander, because I really want to know, right now, how long you planned on this game."

"Game? There's no game, Ahn."

"So you do want to get married? Please explain, Xander," Anya begged, "I need to know the truth."

"I'm sorry, Anya, I wanted to tell you," the young man cried, "I just didn't know how!"

"Do you know how many times you've had a chance to say something? Hell, I gave you a way out before we defeated Glory! I told you not to ask me to marry you unless you meant it," Anya growled out the words and choked back bitter tears, "You tried to tell me? When? When you were planning the rehearsal dinner with your family? When you were picking out a tux? When you were talking with Willow over 'best woman' duties? When, Xander?!" Anya's voice was low and filled with sorrow.

"Ahn--"

"Stop, just answer me this one question. Do you or do you not want to get married?" Anya demanded.

Xander sighed. The guilt and frustration overwhelmed him for a moment, but he finally spoke the words Anya least wanted to hear but most expected, "I'm sorry, Anya, I shouldn't have asked you to marry me. We're not ready. I'm afraid.... all the time, oh God, I don't want to be my parents, Ahn... I couldn't tell you," Xander was sobbing wholeheartedly now, and his head continued thump in pain. "Please, don't leave, Anya, I need you--"

"Oh, I see. You need me, but you don't need to be married to me. You need me in your house, in your bed, cooking your food and cleaning up your fucking messes, but you don't need to be married to me!"

"That's not what I said, Anya, I want to get married someday. Just not now," Xander's voice held a note of pleading.

For a moment, Anya was tempted to relent. Forgive him, take him in her arms, and tell him everything was going to be okay because they had each other. She couldn't help but picture her wedding dress and think of her own wedding vows. Words she'd painstakingly chosen and meant with her soul. Agreeing to marry Xander wasn't a spur of the moment decision for her, but she'd taken that chance on him because Anya loved him with everything she had. From experience, Anya knew that love wasn't always enough, and if Xander had only taken the time to be up front from the beginning, her decision would be different. Anya Jenkins smiled sadly at Xander Harris before walking towards him. She gathered his hands in hers and leaned in to kiss his temple. It was a nurturing gesture-like that of a mother to her child. "Xander, I do love you, but we need space. You need to grow up, and I need to think."