A loud pounding on the door of her motel room roused Anya from a sound sleep. She groaned and slowly sat up in the bed, blinking the sleep from her eyes, trying to get her bearings. She felt a little disoriented, waking from a deep sleep with the late afternoon sun slanting through the heavy curtains into the room.

She had fallen asleep in front of a particularly boring talk show. Ordinarily she enjoyed talk shows – all the drama of human emotion in all its sordid anti-glory on display. But this particular episode had been a quite boring one involving dramatic makeovers, and she realized that she must have fallen asleep.

As she located the remote control and turned the television off, another particularly obnoxious round of knocking on the door drew her off the bed in irritation. “I’m coming, I’m *coming*!” she grumbled loudly as she made her way toward the door.

When she opened it, she was surprised to find Xander standing there. But unlike his last visit to her room, she found that this time she was not irritated by his presence. This was the first time they had spoken or seen each other since she had finished carrying out Dawn’s vengeance wish, and both knew that the things they had seen and experienced together had brought about a profound difference in their relationship.

Anya just wasn’t sure yet exactly what kind of difference.

“Xander,” she said in a soft voice of surprise, suddenly very conscious of her rumpled pajamas and the case of bedhead she was certain she had, though she hadn’t looked in a mirror before answering the door. She reached up a hand to nervously smooth it as she added, as if just remembering herself, “Come in.”

He nodded in humble acknowledgement as she stepped back to allow him entrance and he slowly walked into the room. “Hey,” he said in a quiet, self-conscious voice.

And then a brief but terribly awkward silence filled the room, before he said hesitantly, “Can we talk?”

She said nothing, just looked him in the eye expectantly as she slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap to keep herself from fidgeting. Why should seeing Xander make her so nervous…and so happy at the same time? She suddenly realized that she really was very, *very* glad to see him.

He met her gaze for a moment before looking away uncomfortably. “I know what’s going on with Dawn,” he admitted rather abruptly.

A startled expression came over her face as she asked, too innocently and not at all convincingly, “What do you mean?” She tried to suppress the vague sense of disappointment she felt at the realization of what he had come here to talk to her about.

He met her eyes again, serious, but not accusing. “Anya,” he said flatly, and the single word spoke volumes; she knew it was useless to try to keep up the façade of innocence.

She stood up, feeling a little defensive, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned away from him, not wanting to meet his gaze. “Okay, so she made a wish. I’m a vengeance demon, Xander! It’s what I do!”

“Oh, yeah? If this is what *you* do, then how come she’s the one making with the very disturbing violence, Ahn?” he asked, his concern for the girl who was like a little sister to him evident in his voice.

Anya paused, some of her confidence going out of her at the question; because really, he was only voicing the same concern she had had for Dawn since this whole thing had started. “I tried to get her to just let me do it,” she said, her voice softer now, defeated, as she stared at the floor.

“But she wanted to do it herself,” he finished for her, shaking his head in dismay. “I’m afraid that she’s getting herself in over her head, Anya. She’s not – she’s not planning on actually killing him herself, is she?” he asked, seeking her gaze, not finding it as she averted her eyes again. He paused before going on, softer, “Because you know that something like that could destroy her. She’s just a kid, Anya.”

“I know,” Anya said softly, finally raising her eyes to meet his, and he saw that they were every bit as troubled as he felt. “This sort of thing changes someone…and she has been getting too involved with the whole vengeance thing. If she keeps this up D’Hoffryn might try to recruit her,” she said, rolling her eyes a little. Then her tone grew more serious again as she added, “But…just so you know…she’s not planning on killing him herself.”

“Well, *that’s* good to know,” Xander breathed out in partial relief. He was still concerned about what Dawn was doing, realizing that even if she didn’t kill Warren, the game she was playing could still get her into a world of trouble she probably couldn’t even imagine. He paused for a moment, frowning in thought as he sat down on the bed.

“So…what *is* she planning to do with him, then?”

Anya sat down beside him, no longer on the defensive, and explained to him the arrangement Dawn had made with Arashmar, the deal she had worked out for Warren’s punishment. His eyes grew wide as he took in what she was telling him. When she finished, he let out a slow whistle, staring at the wall in front of him, thinking it through.

“Well…I’ve got to give little Dawnie credit for poetic justice,” he said, shaking his head.

Anya nodded with a small, tight smile. “Yep. Like I said. The girl’s gonna get recruited for the vengeance business.”

“And I can’t say that Warren doesn’t deserve it,” Xander admitted with a slight sideways nod. “But Anya – how can she be sure this guy’s gonna keep his word? I mean – making deals with demons – demons that aren’t you,” he amended quickly when he saw her defenses rising again, “she could be putting herself in serious danger.”

Anya shrugged, obviously unconcerned by that idea. “Oh, he wouldn’t dare touch her. She told him her sister’s the Slayer and threatened to have Buffy kill him if he tried to hurt her…or even if he didn’t make the deal with her.” A slight shiver went through her shoulders as she added, in an almost awestruck voice “That is one seriously scary little ex-key. You know. When she wants to be.”

“Believe me. I know,” Xander said grimly, with a weary sigh.

His loaded words suddenly drew her thoughts back to his own encounter with vengeful Dawn. “So…have you talked to them…since…” she began hesitantly.

He nodded, looking up at her and smiling, at last having some good news to mention. “Yeah. And believe it or not, they forgave me.”

She looked surprised. “That *is* odd,” she said bluntly. “Just like that?”

“Well,” he admitted. “No. Not just like that. Since the last time I begged for Buffy’s forgiveness I turned out to be being a total liar, I kind of had to put some major action behind my groveling this time. But all of them forgave me. Buffy and Dawn – and Spike,” he explained, sounding immensely relieved.

“He was the first to, really, I think. And after what he’s been through,” he shook his head, his dark eyes taking on a haunted quality for a few moments as he remembered his trip through Spike’s past. Then he remembered where he was and shook it off, smiling up at her in an attempt to cover it – but not before she had seen it.

She hadn’t lost the ability to read him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft and anguished. “That I had to make you go through that.”

“I needed to go through that,” he countered matter-of-factly with a little shrug. “I was being a total creep, Ahn. I – I’m *glad* it happened…you know? I was so bitter and hateful toward Spike that I kept trying to destroy him – and all I did was destroy my *own* life. I needed to see what things were really like for him.” He paused for a moment, looking up to meet her eyes honestly again. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Anya’s breath caught in her throat as those warm brown eyes – so familiar, so open – met her own. Beyond his gratitude, she could see the sorrow, the longing, in his expression.

A perfect match for her own.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered absently, automatically, just holding his gaze with her wide, achingly vulnerable eyes.

God, how she had missed him! she realized anew, her heart hurting, yearning to be with him again. How had everything gone so wrong between them? And if it was beyond repair, as she had convinced herself over the past few months – then why did she still want him so desperately?

“Anya,” he said, his voice quiet, just barely over a whisper. “I – I’ve missed you.”

Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them back, determined not to let him see the effect he still had on her – completely unaware that the turbulent tangle of her emotions was clear in every aspect of her expression. “Me, too,” she managed to get the words out.

His mouth opened as if to speak, then shut again, hesitant. He seemed unsure of exactly what he wanted to say – or maybe just of whether or not it would be wise to say it.

“Anya,” he finally tried again, apprehension in his eyes before they fell from hers to the bedspread between them. “A lot of things are different now. Going through that vengeance wish – seeing things from a different perspective – well, it’s changed me, Anya. The whole Spike thing isn’t the only thing I see differently now.”

She just looked at him, not knowing where he was going with this, her eyes beginning to show just the barest beginnings of hope. It was true, she knew. Xander was almost a different person since the wish.

“I had this whole – this whole worldview before – people good, demons bad,” he said, with an apologetic grimace as he glanced back up at her.

But she was not angry. For once, he was being honest, open with her. And if they were every going to get anywhere again, it was what they would both have to do.

“But seeing what Warren did to Spike,” he went on, meeting her eyes again earnestly, willing her to see how deeply he meant this confession. “It changed all that. Warren is human. But the things he did…” He shook his head, at a loss for words. “Well…it was worse than any demon I’ve ever seen. And I’ve been following the Slayer around like a little puppy for six years. I’ve seen a lot.”

Her eyebrows raised at that. She hadn’t expected him to be *that* honest.

He paused before going on, softer. “And I’m starting to think – maybe it’s not that someone is good or evil just based on what they *are*…maybe it’s what they *do* that makes someone good or evil. You…Spike…” he continued, “…you both have done a lot in your pasts…heck, so have I…but I think what really matters is that you’ve chosen…*now*…not to go back there, you know?” He paused suddenly, frowning a little. “You have, haven’t you?” he asked, almost as an afterthought, his eyes widening a little, not with suspicion, just with concern at the thought that had just occurred to him.

She smiled self-consciously, looking down. It was a fair, honest question. After all, she *was* back in the vengeance business. She nodded. “I have. After being human… *knowing* humans…knowing *you*…” she went on, her voice low to hide the slight tremor she found was beginning in it. “I just couldn’t get back into bloodshed…you know? I mean, I work vengeance, but…but I haven’t actually killed anyone.” She paused, frowning, before adding in a dark tone, “I think I could have killed Warren, though.”

“I think *I* could have killed Warren,” Xander replied with a snort. “I think Warren’s own mother could have killed Warren. Unless of course he killed her first, the little psycho,” he muttered, shaking his head.

He looked back up at her, his expression serious again. “But that’s what I’m saying. You, and Spike…you’ve made the decision to do good…and Warren…he’s human, but he’s made the decision to do evil…so…so that led me to thinking,” he went on, cautiously, looking down again as he spoke, slowly and choosing his words with care.

“If I hadn’t fallen in love with you…if I’d fallen in love with a normal girl who’d been human all her life…it might have worked out…” he paused. “…or it might have ended up like the image that demon showed me at our wedding. We might have fought and hurt each other and grown apart and everything, just like I saw it…or we might have got along, raised our well-adjusted 2.5 kids and stayed together until we were eighty.”

His eyes met hers, and she was caught off guard by the yearning she saw there as he added, “And either way I would have been bored silly, and feeling the whole time like I was missing something really important. Because I don’t think I’d ever be happy with a normal girl, Anya. Not after being with you.”

The awkwardly phrased intended compliment was softened by the deep, vulnerable affection that was obvious in his eyes.

“Oh, Xander,” she said, her voice almost a whimper, as her eyes welled with tears again, a flood of warmth and love for him enveloping her. Awkward phrasing was no impediment to her; she knew what he was trying to say.

He leaned forward and took her hands, the look in his eyes almost pleading as he said, “There’s no way to know how it would have turned out…how it could still turn out. That’s the chance we take, no matter *what* we choose. I’ve figured it out, Anya. That’s it. We just have to choose, and – and go with it. Try to make the best choice for us, and – and deal with the results as they happen.”

As he spoke he had been leaning in, closer to her, his eyes focused on hers, but now his eyes began to drift between her eyes and her full, trembling lips, back and forth, knowing what he wanted but hesitant.

“I want us to be together again, Anya,” he whispered, his hands trailing up from her hands to her arms, pulling her a little closer. “I want us to try.”

Without even realizing she was doing it she responded to his touch, leaning in closer to him, almost completing the kiss he was moving in for.

Then, at the last second, she turned her head and jerked away, glaring at him.

“Wait a second!” she snapped, shaking her head. “No. No, Xander Harris, I know what you’re doing here. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, ‘Gee, I’ve really screwed things up with Buffy, the woman I *really* want. And hey, look! Here’s Anya, my reasonably attractive ex with whom I used to have hot, incredible sex all the time! How convenient! If I can’t have the steak, guess I’ll settle for the cheeseburger!’ ”

He was following her until the last sentence, at which he frowned for a moment before he puzzled it out. “No!” he insisted, shaking his head, reaching out to take her arms again and turn her gently to face him. “No, Anya. You wanna know what I’m thinking?”

He paused, and she finally met his eyes, vulnerable and obviously terrified. He knew he was extending hope to her that would have been cruel if he had had any intention of leaving it unfulfilled.

But finally, he knew what it was that he really wanted.

Reluctantly, she nodded in response to his question, her wide green eyes searching his.

“I’m thinking I was an idiot to ever let you get away from me…to worry so much about what *might* happen that I lost the only thing that’s ever mattered to me. I’m thinking that if you’ll just give me a chance to make it right again, I’ll never, ever make that mistake again…”

He paused, looking down for a moment before he went on, meeting her eyes with a deep intensity that took her breath away. “And I’m thinking…finally…all I’ll ever want in the world is sitting right here in front of me.” He leaned in closer to her, his lips inches from hers, and ventured a tentative smile as he admitted, “*You’re* the steak, Anya.”

“Oh, Xander,” she sighed through her tears of relief and joy as she suddenly, impulsively put her arms around his neck. “You say the sweetest things to me!” And suddenly, she pulled him to her, kissing him hungrily, with all the need of the past few months that she had not been able to release.

And as they fell back together onto the disheveled motel bed, each felt the comfortable satisfaction of finding the place where they were supposed to fit, after an impossibly long and wearying search.

Xander and Anya had come home.