Title: Stuff That Happens While You're Making Other Plans

Author: Jeanny

Summary: Xander's POV as he deals with the unpredictability of life and love on the Hellmouth.

Spoilers: Season 5 through Tough Love

Rating: PG

Feedback: Yes, please! jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Distribution: Go ahead, I don't mind, just credit me and tell me where it's going.

Disclaimer: All Buffy characters belong to Joss Whedon and Co. I am making no money, here or elsewhere, so keep your lawsuits to yourselves!

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I've been cleaning the apartment ever since we got back from the hospital yesterday. Oh, I've eaten, I've slept, I've made love to Anya, received a couple of disturbing phone calls from Buffy. Finding out how close I came to losing my best friend sent me to the toilet. First to eliminate my breakfast, then to make the blasted thing shine like it never has before. And if the ammonia stings my eyes and makes them tear up, so much the better. I lost the ability to cry several crises ago. After Joyce, I guess.

"Do you like doing that?" Anya's voice echoes through the bathroom and startles me, even though I knew she was there. My girl is many things, but subtle is not one. But she had been watching me without saying a word for long enough that I had forgotten. I stop scrubbing and look up at her.

"Not at all. I don't think anyone likes doing this, Ahn." She considers this for a moment, cocking her head at me and wrinkling her nose in that cute way she has when she's trying to figure out some new human behavior.

"Then why? Does it help?" I just stare at her. I don't know how to answer that. It doesn't help, not really, but then nothing does. "Because, you know, I've never seen you do that before. It doesn't feel like a Xander thing to do." At this moment I realize I've been on my knees so long that my legs have fallen asleep. I stand because I have to, wincing at the pins and needles in my feet.

"Let's get out of here, the fumes are making me loopy," I tell her, and follow her to the living room. I know that this isn't the end of it, and I'm still trying to figure out how to explain it to her. I still don't really understand it myself.

"Is this about Tara? Or Willow? I don't understand."

"I think...it's about Tara and Willow, Buffy and Dawn and Giles, and you and me and heck, even Spike. It's about the mess that we're all in, and how I feel like I've been in this non-stop cycle of disasters, the waiting for and the happening of, since my sophomore year of high school, but it seemed like there were rules. The things that went bump in the night were real, but they went bump pretty much in the night. And we’re on the side of the good, and we always win in the end, you know. And now, Joyce is gone, and Tara's mind is gone, and it's like that...that order is gone, and it's all just. . .chaos. It shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't be so...there should be more...I don't know how to say it." I've given up grasping for the words and just look at her. Anya's expressions are always so clear to me, but I have no idea what she is thinking now. Further evidence of my world spinning askew.

“So things are different?”

“Yes, they’re different.”

“Aren’t they always different?”

“Well, yes...no! If they were always different, they’d be the same.” She’s giving me that look again, the one I don’t know how to read. I get up and start pacing, running my fingers through my hair.

“What I mean is, isn’t everything always changing? I mean, it seems to me like things change a lot.”

“Yes, things do change. Change is normal. But this is bad and it’s different.” Now Anya’s nodding slowly, as if I had said something extraordinarily profound. I think back over everything I just said. No insightfulness there.

“I see. I’m pregnant.” This takes a moment to register. When it does, I stop pacing and stare at my girlfriend. She’s looking at me, her eyes at once defensive and pleading.

“Anya, I didn’t - I don’t - what?”

“I’m pregnant. I was late, so I used one of the home test thingies. Actually, I used seven, because I wanted to make absolutely sure. I’m definitely pregnant.”

“But I - but we - I thought we - Anya!”

“You did. I did. We did. But I’m still pregnant.” She’s moving around now, waving her hands the way she does when she’s really upset. “I didn’t do this on purpose, Xander. And I didn’t do anything wrong, you can ask the doctor.” She stalked over to the phone and picked it up, gesturing with the receiver. “Call him.”

“You’ve been to a doctor already?” She nodded, still giving me that pleading look. I once again have that sick feeling, the one where I’m letting someone I love down. I know I’m not giving her what she needs. I fight the shock and try again. ”What did he say? Are you alright?” Her expression softens a little. That was better, Harris. Keep it up.

“He says I’m fine. Seven weeks along, and very healthy. We both are.”

“Good. That’s good. That’s very, very good.” I’m sitting on the sofa, but I don’t remember sitting down. It’s good that I’m sitting, though, it’s very, very good. Anya is smiling at me, but she still looks lost. And scared. And I don’t know what to do, I’m not ready for this.

“So what I need to know Xander is, what kind is this?” For a horrifying second, I think she’s trying to figure out if the baby is human or demon. God, I haven’t thought of her as a demon for months, and now all of a sudden there it is again. I’m drowning in my failure, going under again. Thankfully Anya is continuing, although her hurt look tells me that some of what I was thinking must have shown on my face. “What kind of change? The normal kind or the bad kind?”

I want to say the normal kind. She needs me to say it. I need to say it. I’m opening my mouth, but no sound is coming out. Instead I’m just sweating like a...like a guy whose girlfriend just dropped the pregnancy bomb on him. She turns away and it’s like all the light went out of her. And I did that. I brought on the darkness this time. I open my mouth again.

“Anya -” I get no further because of the, well, to call it knocking would be insulting to doorknockers. The pounding. And then the breaking. The door coming off of its hinges. In stomps Buffy, with a terrified Dawn in tow. Giles is right behind them, and I can see Spike standing guard in the hall. With a handgun. Okay, things just changed again, definitely the bad kind.

“Xander, weapons. I need everything you’ve got.” I’m not answering, because I’m staring at Buffy’s face. Because what I see there has me more scared than anything. Buffy’s petrified. She stares at me wide-eyed. “Xander, we’ve got to move. Now. Glory knows. She knows!”

“Oh, God!” I manage to whisper, when Buffy turns to Anya.

“Anya, you have clothes here, right?” Anya nods, still looking at me. “Good, pack a bag. Quickly. We’re getting out of town right now!” Anya says nothing, just gives me one more sad look and hurries off to pack. Buffy whirls at me, grabbing my arms and giving me a good shake. Being shaken by a Slayer does a lot to bring me back to reality.

“Ow! Weapons are in the trunk. Take the whole thing, that’s all I’ve got. Where are Willow and Tara?” Giles answers me, as Buffy is already handing the trunk to Spike. Dawn just stares straight ahead, looking as dazed as I feel.

“We’ve got them downstairs in the...vehicle. Pack, Xander, we’ve got to hurry.” I’m moving now, glad for once that my formative years gave me lots of training on how to pack and move quickly. Run and hide - now these are skills I acquired early. I throw some clothes into my gym bag, along with a shaving kit and a spare pair of sneakers. I can hear Giles ushering Anya and Dawn out the door, and I know that I’ve got no time left. Buffy’s practically screaming my name. But there’s one thing I’ve got to do. I go to the chest of drawers and pull out the bottom drawer, tossing the contents on the floor. I remove the false bottom and quickly grab the small box that I had hidden there. I toss it on top of everything else and pull the zipper as I run. Seeing Buffy’s expression as she reaches to grab my hand, I know it’s true. We’re running for our lives now.

**************************************

It’s been a couple of days since we took off. The RV seems to be holding together, but barely, but that’s still something considering what we’ve put it through. We all look like we’ve been through Hell. And we have, of course.

Buffy never leaves Dawn’s side. Normally Dawn would be pitching a fit about it, begging to be left alone and to have a little privacy. The fact is she hasn’t protested once, and more than one time I’ve seen her reach for Buffy’s hand. That’s how I know how truly frightened she is. It doesn’t help that Tara sees her as something swirly and green. We’ve tried to keep them away from each other, but there’s not much room to move in here.

Willow wants to stay with Tara all the time, but she can’t. We need her to work spells, it’s the only way we’re avoiding capture. I don’t know how much longer she can keep it up. She’s getting weaker by the hour, but other than convince her to get a little sleep, I can’t keep her from doing it. That damned resolve face, there’s no getting past it. But I’m really scared for her. All this magick is taking some kind of toll, we all can see it.

Spike got the RV, I don’t know and I don’t want to know how. He and Giles and I are taking turns doing the driving. We’ve also been strategizing with Buffy about what to do next. I wish we had a better plan. I wish we had a plan that might work. But I don’t say that, because we all know it’s true, and no one wants to hear it out loud. Least of all Buffy.

Anya amazes me. She’s pretty much taken over caring for Tara, and she does it in a wonderfully gentle and loving way. Even Willow feels okay about having her stay with Tara, and that’s a miracle in and of itself. Anya talks to Tara soothingly but in a normal way, not like she’s lost her mind. I can see the mother she’s going to become, and it takes my breath away. But every time I make eye contact with her she looks away, and it feels like someone is ripping out my soul.

I moved the box to my pocket this morning, and I keep running my fingers over it. I know that I need to do this today. In the midst of all this uncertainty, this is what scares me the most. But it’s the only thing I’m certain of. Since Willow is awake and is with Tara, I know that now is the time. I take Anya by the elbow and bring her to the most private corner of the RV, which isn’t private at all, but it’ll have to do. She doesn’t even glare at me, just gives me that dead, sad glance and looks away.

“Anya, I know that my timing totally sucks, but there may not be...that doesn‘t matter, I want, no, I need you to know, it’s the normal kind.” She’s looking at me now, hopeful and doubtful at the same time. “Definitely the good, normal kind.” Seeing that slow smile spread across her face, I realize this is the first time I’ve felt warm in days.

“Really, Xander?” I reach out to touch her cheek, and brush aside the tear that’s glistening there.

“Really, but there’s more I want to say. So much more.” I take the deepest breath I ever have, and as gracefully as I can in an RV that’s barreling down God-knows-what barely paved highway, I get down on one knee and retrieve the box. I open it to reveal my Grandmother Donovan’s engagement ring. I hear a gasp that I know is Dawn, and I know the others are all watching. I look up at Anya’s face and it’s streaming with tears. “This ring belonged to my mother’s mother. She gave it to me when I was thirteen, right before she died, and told me to keep it hidden until the day I met the right girl to give it to.” I can’t help but glance at my two best friends. When I first got the ring I somehow imagined I’d eventually give it to Willow, as soon as I was good enough for her. Then I met Buffy, and I dreamed about placing it on her finger. But neither of those fantasies were right. This is, I can feel it in my soul. I look back at Anya, now openly weeping, and feel tears begin the trail down my own face. “Anya, you’re the girl. You’re my girl. Please say you’ll be my wife.”

“I want to, but I need to know. Why?” I know what she’s really asking. Is this just because of the baby? I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching on that very matter and I know the answer this time.

“Because it would make me so very happy, and I hope it’ll make you happy. And I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, if you’ll let me.”

“It would make you happy?”

“Yes, Anya. So happy.” Her nod of yes brings me to my feet to crush her in a hug. Over her shoulder I can see Willow smiling widely at me through her tears. It hurts to know she’s in so much pain, but I know that she’s genuinely glad for me. I feel a hand pounding me on the back and turn to see Giles grinning like a fool. I can’t help but grin back. Then with trembling hands I slip the ring on Anya’s finger. It fits like it was always meant to be there. I turn and Buffy slips into my arms, giving me a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m happy for you, Xand,” she whispers in my ear. Holding her, I know I’m also letting her go, but it feels right. Everything is so wrong now, but this feels right. Giles is hugging Anya, then Willow has her, and the sight of the two of them embracing is almost too much for me. Then Anya is in my arms, my lips on hers, and I’m no longer aware of who and what else is going on in the world. Things change. This is the good kind.

**************************************

It’s almost time to go. We really tried, but Glory got Dawn away from us. We’re heading into the final battle now, and I don't think any of us are going to get out of this alive. I joked to Willow about how many apocalypses did we have to prevent before we got the free sundae, and she actually giggled, as lame as that was. We all sense something final is happening now, and it’s too much to bear. So we laugh, and act like this is just like graduation, or the Master, or Adam. But it’s not. There’s family at stake.

Buffy is taking the loss of Dawn hard. She can’t join in the gallows humor, in the small laughs that Giles and Willow and I share. Sometimes when I talk to her she’s so unresponsive that I fear she’s already given up. Spike and Giles can get the fire in her going, though. I just keep promising her we’ll save Dawn, and I know she’s clinging to those pledges. Please, God, let me make them true. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Buffy. Nothing at all.

Giles is staying close to Buffy, as a Watcher should. His face is solemn, but his eyes hold that cold glint, the one that tells me that the Ripper will be coming out soon. Who’d have thought that this stuffy British librarian cum shopkeeper would be my closest male friend? Not to mention the father I wish I’d had. Thanks for taking care of us, Giles. Never stop.

Tara still looks at me like she used to sometimes. I know that Willow’s holding out hope that if we win she’ll be returned to sanity. I really hope so. Tara’s the first person I ever thought was actually worthy of my best friend. I want that gentle spirit and mind intact when this is over.

Spike has his game face on, and he’s ready for war. We’ll never be friends, but we have one important thing in common: the willingness to lay down our lives for the women named Summers. Because of that, he’s welcome at my side in battle any day.

Willow is so pale. She’s always pale, but now she looks like a vampire. We’ve been through so much, she and I. Not just vampires and demons and high school, but summer camp and sleepovers and sandboxes. No one will ever know me the way my Willow does. I need her to be safe. Please let me be able to protect her. Losing Willow is totally unthinkable, and I simply won’t allow it.

Anya is staying behind to watch over Tara. I see her cradling her arms over her stomach protectively, and it makes me ache to just hold her forever. I settle for the last few minutes before we go.

“Please come back. You have to come back.” Her hot breath in my ear makes me hold her even closer.

“We’re on the side of good, remember? We always win.” I know this might be a lie, but to me it feels truer than anything I’ve ever said.

Because she and I, our baby, these friends, this family, this fight.

This is life. This is what it's all about.