SquidgeWorld Archive

She'd been told that a woman's wedding was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. A time of celebration, promises, and presents followed by feasting and sex. The momentous start of a new life.

Too bad hers had been a disaster.

It was Xander's fault. He'd called off the wedding and left. Unfortunately, she had been the one who had to tell all the invited guests that the wedding was cancelled, she had been the one standing there in a five thousand dollar wedding gown, and she had been the one who hadn't seen it coming. Her first thought had been to kill him. Her second had been that death was too quick, and maybe she should torture him for several years before finally granting him the release of death.

Then she'd found the gloating, miserable wretch who had caused the chain of events - a nasty fear demon who had caught Xander before the wedding, showed him something horrible, and stood back watching as Xander had panicked and called off the wedding before fleeing.

She'd killed him. Slowly.

Unfortunately, that had left horrible stains on the gown, and blood was hard enough to get out of normal fabric, she figured that it would take strong magic to get all the blood out of the lacy white wedding gown.

Given what she had learned, Anya no longer wanted to slowly eviscerate Xander as she filled his stomach cavity with hungry mice and hot coals, nor did she wish for him to rot from the inside out. She didn't want to see Willow and Tara, simply because they were still happy together when she was now alone. She didn't want to see Buffy because Buffy seemed to object to anyone else killing people in her town. She didn't want to see Giles because he'd be too understanding, and then her eyes would leak, and she'd break down and weep and wail like a wimp.

It was time to leave Sunnydale. The whole state of California might be good, while she was packing.

She went north, certain that eventually the are would stop reminding her of Sunnydale, and of Xander. She didn't care much beyond that.

Honestly, this miserable little diner wasn't anything like Sunnydale. The food wasn't good, the beer was worse, and all the miserable men were human. Part of her itched to make them even more miserable. It wouldn't be that hard, she didn't even need to be a demon to send a little misery...

"This seat taken?" The voice held a bit of a growl.

"No," Anya glanced at him, expecting another overweight leering man to be oggling her admittedly nice body.

He wasn't overweight, and he wasn't quite leering, though he did seem to appreciate her curves. His dark hair swept back into two rough points, and his eyes held a wildness that she hadn't seen in centuries, and that in the berserkers of her homeland. Other than his eyes, the man didn't look a thing like her people though.

He settled onto the barstool and accepted a beer from the boring man behind the counter. As he lifted the mug, Anya could see that his fingers were stubby and covered with tiny scars, the sort that come from countless knives and fights over many years.

"What're you running from?" He didn't sound terribly interested, asking more from habit or expectations than curiosity.

Anya arched an eyebrow at him as she signaled for another beer. "I thought the normal line was 'What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this', not what am I running from."

"You're running. The only people that come through here are running, eco-nuts, or truck drivers. You aren't a trucker, you haven't said anything about saving the trees or some animal or other, so you must be running from something," he downed the contents of a shot glass, letting it clink against the bar. "Besides, the weather's been terrible and looks ready to stay that way."

Considering his words, Anya had to smile. He was right, and she wasn't about to start in about saving the spotted owls or purple buffalo or whatever helpless animal people were worried about today. Animals were tougher than modern humans wanted to credit. She didn't answer immediately, instead taking another swallow of her beer.

The bartender came back, grinning at the man, "another round?"

"Give me a line of 'em, or just leave the bottle," he replied.

Watching as the man poured himself another shot, Anya nodded. "Memories. Unfortunately, they do a good job of keeping up with me."

"Ah," Lifting the bottle slightly, he asked, "Want a little help for the beer?"

"Thanks. You aren't going to ask me to tell you all about the ugly memories?" Anya blinked, wondering when or how he'd dealt with that irritating aspect of human curiosity.

"If you want to talk about them, I'll listen. If you just want to drink, I'll buy every other round or maybe that should be every other bottle," he shrugged, pouring about an inch into her mug. "What should I call you, darlin'?"

"I'm Anya, and I'll buy the next round." She wasn't quite certain why she'd smiled at him.

Several bottles later, it had seemed like a fine idea to explain about Sunnydale and the Hellmouth. Another bottle after that and she'd suggested that he take her off to a room, and offered a few suggestions for once they got there.

Damn if he hadn't taken her up on those suggestions.

Anya had just forgotten one little thing: she wasn't a demon anymore. Humans had limits on how much alcohol they could drink, and she'd ran smack into that limit. She had been unconscious through the morning, and when the searingly bright sunlight had slipped between the curtains, she'd groaned and pulled a pillow over her head, feeling quite sympathetic for the poor, flammable vampires. She vaguely remembered saying something, possibly 'turn off the sun'.

It hadn't seemed quite worth leaving that evening. He'd offered her coffee and aspirin, asking nothing deeper than if she wanted sugar or cream in the coffee. Nothing about her muttered curses on the brewing companies, nothing about her words of demons and vampires. Her car had been hooked to the back of his battered camper, and she'd been tucked into his rumpled bed that smelled most strongly of sex and alcohol. Blearily, she'd thanked Logan for the coffee, and for hooking her car up to tow along.

"You can travel with me as long as you want. Just let me know before you leave, so I'm not wondering if something out in the cold got you," Logan had offered from the front of the camper.

"What's out there?" Anya had stumbled forward, settling in the passenger seat with a blanket wrapped over her body, only her jeans underneath. "I don't think I've been out here before..."

Logan shrugged, "I'm not sure. I'm just damn sure that there's something nasty and hungry and that the scientists didn't believe in it until some of them were eaten. Whatever happened, it wasn't a bear like they tried to claim."

"What did happen?"

"There was darkness, and howling... People died. I can't remember."

"Why not? Was it that traumatic?" Anya pulled her feet up into the blanket, curling her toes up.

"Something happened after that. It took my past, all my memories. I've had some dreams, bits and pieces," Logan paused, carefully steering the camper around a corner. "I've learned to tell the bits that are memories from the ones that aren't. What happened to me was pain. There are howling things out there with big teeth. Something else, bigger, white and hungry... it eats people."

Something stirred in Anya's memories, from her days as Anyanka. Vengeance granted to the survivors of a horrible tragedy, where the few who returned from a hunting party sent out by one of the native villages had been trapped by an avalanche and had eaten the others of their group. The grieving widow of one of the eaten dead had demanded vengeance, and there had been a Wish granted... the Wendigo. The fact that the vengeance had been far more dangerous to them than the original handful of survivors was considered a sign of skill among the demonic circles... Unfortunately, she wasn't part of those circles any longer. "Damn. Let's hope there isn't one of those out there right now. I don't want to be on anything's menu."

"No, I suppose not," Logan agreed. "Not that the glimpses aren't nice, but you should put on a bit more clothes. It's too cold to run around half dressed, and unfortunately the heater doesn't work very well."

Anya sighed, knowing that he was right. Her goose-bumps were getting goose-bumps now, so more clothing sounded quite good. She made her way to the back, where her things had landed on the floor and in the bedding. Eventually she would part company with Logan, when it wasn't convenient to travel with him any longer.

She wasn't going to let herself get attached again. That had only led to pain. This time, she wouldn't let it happen.

Of course, it was nice not to have to drive in the snow. Since she was only trying to go away from her ugly memories, wherever Logan was heading was as good as anywhere else. And the man was a very satisfying lover, giving her many orgasms...

Maybe she didn't have to part company with Logan just yet. There would be time for that later.