Chapter Text
Faltering Stride
by Lucinda
"T'was so; But this, all pleasures fancies bee.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desire'd, and got, t'was but a dreame of thee"
-The Good Morrow, John Donne
Anya had shut herself into the little dressing room, her whole body tense and quivering with emotions, and none of them were good. This was supposed to be her wedding day, the day that she would become Anya Harris, Mrs. Xander Harris for the rest of as long as they both lived. She was ready for that, properly dressed in a ceremonially ornate off white gown sewn with pearls for fertility and lace for beauty, and voluminous enough that she couldn't run away.
Xander had run away. He hadn't shown up for his own wedding.
If he wasn't off dead or dying somewhere, she wanted to kill him. Right before she locked herself in a dark room with a lot of chocolate and tissues. She wasn't quite certain how people were supposed to deal with these feelings - anger, pain, fear, guilt, worry that it was somehow her fault, that she hadn't been enough.
"I'm sorry about all of this, Anyanka." There was a large, warm hand resting on her back suddenly, and a familiar voice as D'Hoffryn tried to offer her a measure of comfort.
She looked at him, her vision blurred by tears and her veil. "He's... Did something kill him?" Realizing that she sounded almost hopeful, Anya tried to amend her question. "Because then there would be a reason why he's not here."
Slowly, he shook his head. "No, he's not dead. Just afraid and
hiding somewhere else. You deserve better than this."
"But this is my life now. I'm not a demon anymore, not... What other alternative do I have than this?" She tried to wipe at her face again, feeling more pain surge through her.
Patting her hand, D'Hoffryn pulled the veil from her hair, and for a moment stared awkwardly at the mass of shimmering gauze. "I'm not certain about an alternative to mortality. There might be.... I might be able to bring you back to the fold, but... I need to double check with a few rules first. But I can give you an alternative to Sunnydale, to the Hellmouth."
"What alternative? I don't think I could cope long in Arashmahod as a human, there are too many old rivals. And most of the alternate dimensions that I found were... not too healthy." She was curious though. If he said there was an option, then there was one - it just might not be any better than the Hellmouth.
"Anyanka... you underestimate my power." He was smiling now, this smug little grin that said he had a secret. "You always sought to find dimensions that were well suited for suffering and misery. My own explorations... many of them were to recruit promising girls for out circle. I found quite a number of worlds that are... rather different from this one. Some are unwelcoming to humans, others are.. no more or less so than this world was, when you were mortal the first time."
"So, you could - theoretically - send me to one of these other worlds, a place that wasn't here, wasn't Sunnydale?" She had to admit that the idea sounded tempting. "Isn't there usually some sort of catch to these things?"
Chuckling, he nodded. "Indeed, there's always a catch. If I just frame the sending to be a relatively safe place, I won't be certain where it is until you get there. But more than likely, you won't be able to come back here. Not unless you become one of mine again. And every world has it's own dangers."
"That doesn't sound too bad, considering. I don't think that I'd really want to come back, not after... not after all of this." She tried to smile at him, uncertain how well it would work. "But would I arrive in a wedding gown, with no money, no transportation, and no weapons?"
"My dear girl, I'm not mad at you. I'm offering to help you." He reached out, touching one carefully styled lock of her hair. "If you go, you'll end up suitably garbed and equipped for wherever you land, and it should be somewhere relatively safe."
For a moment, Anya wondered if that was what she really wanted - to run away from all of this. To never see Xander again, or the Magic Box, or everyone. She looked back at the sleeves of her wedding gown, her beautiful, expensive, wasted wedding gown. How could she stay here after he'd done this to her? "I don't think I want to be here anymore. Not after..."
"Then I can send you to another place. A fresh start." He nodded, as if he'd had his own questions. "Anyanka... I wish you the best of luck in everything."
Looking up, she took a breath, preparing to thank him when everything suddenly spun around her. The air drew in, pressing against her, and everything got dark. She didn't quite pass out, but there was the strangest feeling, as if she was being simultaneously stretched out very thin and squished together all at once.
end part 1.