My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun,
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts be dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes there is more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
˜Shakespeare, Sonnet 130
* * * * *
He'd never have figured that his life would turn out like this. In high school, he thought he knew how it would all end. He'd have his thing with Cordelia, she'd eventually dump him for someone with more status and he'd try to move on. Willow and Oz would be together, as happy as could be expected when you had to lock your loved one up every month. Buffy would get over Deadboy, and move on to someone with a pulse. And maybe Giles and Joyce would come clean and admit that they'd been having an affair ever since that whole candy thing. It hadn't turned out like that at all. Well, the part with Joyce and Giles had come out, but only when Buffy's caught her mom with a home pregnancy test and wigged out.
Oz had run off with some she-wolf singer from another band. Willow was sharing an apartment with Tara and Michael, both of whom were also witches. He wasn't certain that he wanted to ask about the sleeping arrangements - sometimes he thought there was something going on there, and other days he figured that was impossible.
Buffy had dated Riley Finn for a while. Well, first she'd been suckered by Parker Abrams, but everyone was just trying to forget him. Then, it was Riley, the apparently all American good guy. Except when he donned his camouflage uniform and went seeking demons to experiment on for the Initiative. Somedays, Xander missed him, and other days he just felt relieved that after ADAM, the survivors had been relocated, the bodies hidden, and the base filled in. Spike had even almost went out heroically, helping Buffy take down ADAM. Granted, it would have been a lot more heroic without the shouts of 'You promised this damn chip would be removed you bloody ass!' but hey, ADAM was still dead. And so was Spike. Buffy was getting over it.
As for himself... Well, that was where things went entirely different than he'd imagined. Cordelia had dumped him, but that was after he'd found himself sneaking kisses with Willow. He was still fairly certain that the magicked chocolate had something to do with it... And instead of being alone and miserable...
A slender arm slid around his waist, pulling him back a little bit. HE could feel her naked breasts pressed against the skin of his back. "Come back to bed, Xander."
Smiling, he turned around, meeting her eyes. Anya would never be the conventional image of beauty... or at least not this century. Her eyes were pretty, although they sort of reminded him a bit of petrified wood. Her hair was it's own sort of brownish blondish color, not quite straight and not curled, falling like a battered fringe around her shoulders. She had freckles over her body, and several scars, some of which he knew the cause of, and others that were a mystery. Anya, who smelled of sage and powdered dragonweed instead of some expensive designer perfume.
"Ahn..." Her name was a joyful murmur from his heart. She was wonderful. Maybe a bit eccentric, a bit rough around the edges, but she was his, and he was hers.
"Come back to bed now, Xander. I have this idea that I want to try, with a feather and a blindfold..." Her eyes were filled with sensual promises, and one hand held a deep green plume, which she waggled in front of his nose.
Grinning, he caught her wrist, pulling the feather away from his face. "Not the nose, or you'll make me sneeze."
The feather ran down his chest, tickling. Her smile was almost wicked. "Fair enough... it wasn't your nose that's supposed to be stimulated anyhow."
Xander made a noise - a groan would have been a nice, manly description, but it was actually a bit more like a gasp or a whimper. "Ahn... I'mmm alright, back to bed."
His last serious thought was that while this wasn't the life that he'd expected, it was a lot better in some ways. He had Anya, and they were happy together. What more should he ask for?
* * * * * * *
Morning brought a sense of peace to him, as had become normal. Every morning was another night that the world hadn't ended, that fighting evil hadn't killed him. Another night that he'd been Xander, not the disappointing spawn of Tony Harris. For a few moments, Xander just looked out the window, watching the sun rise over the row of houses.
Things seemed so fresh at dawn, so full of possibilities. It was the time for beginnings. The perfect time for his plan.
Smiling, he went to the back porch, and carefully snipped a pair of roses from the bush - a dark pink, streaked with red. Quietly, he made his way back inside, stopping at his jacket before entering the bedroom.
Anya was sprawled over the bed, her limbs out as she claimed the space for her own. Her hair was a half tangled cloud behind her, and he could see the line of freckles that marched along the bottom of her right breast. Smiling, he moved closer. He ran one rose along the bottom of her foot, watching her toes twitch and hearing the little noises that she made. Slowly, he ran the flower up her leg, circling her navel, caressing her breasts with the supple petals. Anya was almost purring by the time she was fully awake.
"Xander..." She looked at him, her eyes filled with desire. "What a way to wake up..."
Xander grinned, sitting beside her on the bed, the little box held in one hand. "Anya? Would you... I wanted to ask you... If you'd... well, so much for the words I practiced for an hour. Marry me?"
Then her arms were around him, and his lap was filled with passionate, naked Anya as she covered his face with kisses, soft 'yes yes yes's falling from her lips.
It was a good thing that he didn't have to work on Saturdays.