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E-mail Hilary

by Perletwo

One thing you had to say about Xander Harris, Giles thought, he'd got
plenty of energy. Giles, seeing everything as he did through an
academic lens, tended to dismiss him as a slacker. Physically,
though, he was full of loose-limbed vigor as a boy and had channeled
that into skilled handiwork as an adult.

Certainly, it now occurred to Giles as he watched from the table,
turn the boy loose in a too-small kitchen and he became a whirling
dervish. He rattled the newspaper in his hands in irritation, but
Xander didn't seem to take the hint.

Nor did he seem to notice the third figure crowding into the kitchen
as he kept up his steady stream of light chatter.

"Oh, don't purse up your lips like that, Giles. They'll freeze that
way. And if you think you're uncomfortable, remember that I used to
live with this. At least I got orgasms out of the bargain!" it said,
leaning over the back of his chair.

{{I am not answering back to that,}} Giles thought tightly. {{You are
nothing but a figment of my imagination.}}

The Anya-apparition just shrugged. "Okay then. I'll just stand
here...unwelcome..." it sighed dramatically. "Don't mind me. I'm used
to it, after all. You just go on with your - " It leaned closer to
peer at the newspaper. "-- reading of the Help Wanteds? Being the
entire Watcher's Council isn't enough? Oh! Hey, look here -- you and
Xander could open up a 7-11 franchise together! It'd be just like the
good old days -- you'd provide the expertise, and Xander could provide
the personality!"

"Now just a minute!" Giles blustered, then checked himself.

"Hmm? Somethin' the matter, G-Man?" Xander turned to look at him over
his shoulder, still apparently oblivious to the Anya-ish...thing
behind his chair.

"Oh-oh, nothing - just, just something in the paper." He pulled off
his glasses and gave the boy a watery smile, and Xander turned his
attention back to the sandwich he was building.

{{Now listen,}} Giles thought sternly at the Anya-esque being. {{If
you are a manifestation of the First Evil, I'm not about to be taken
in by --}}

The grip of a cool, dry hand over his bare forearm stopped all
thought. He looked away from the thin hand on his arm, up into deep
chocolate-brown eyes.

"I am as real as you need me to be," Anya said, and Giles had to
remind himself to breathe. She stepped closer to his chair to allow
Xander room to pass.

"Seeya G-man! Been real!" he called on his way out the door, plate
and drink in hand. Giles made a noncommittal sound in his throat in
reply, never taking his eyes from the ghost standing next to him.

"He's mistaken," Giles said in a thin voice. "This-this isn't real a-
at all. It *can't* be."

Anya smiled. "I hardly see why not. After all, you've encountered
ghosts before...haven't you?"

"Y-yes but...but there are *rules,* laws of metaphysics..." Without
thinking or even noticing, he took her hand in his. "Ghosts are tied
to a-a certain place, or a person, or a specific set of events that
caused them deep spiritual trauma, usually related to their...their
deaths...But you..."

"Yes?"

"You...died...far from here, and while I-I can only imagine-there was
pain...you rather expected it, being as you were in-in *that* place,
at *that* time for the purpose you were..."

Anya smiled. "Well, that rules out places and events. What does that
leave us with, then?"

"Bu-but - why *me?* If you're truly a-a-a ghost, why haunt me? Why
wouldn't you appear to Xander? Your closest emotional ties were to
him, after all. Why isn't he able to *see* you at least?"

"Dunno. Ask yourself -- I *am* a figment of your imagination after
all, right?" She gave him another shrug. "Maybe it's because Xander's
comfortable with his grief? Or because he can grieve openly, us
having been officially almost-married? Or -- I know. Maybe it's
because we'd put most of our unfinished business to rest before I
died? We knew we were most likely to die in the last battle, so we
said all the things we needed to say to each other beforehand."

She knelt down beside Giles' chair, and he felt the whole
considerable force of Anya's personality focus on him. "Were there
things left unspoken between *us,* Giles?" she whispered.

A flood of images filled his mind, tumbling one after another --
himself in another time-space dimension, smashing an amulet of power;
Anya's high-school self facing down Vampire Willow at the Bronze; a
ridiculous full-body bunny-rabbit costume; joining them, in her
inimitable fashion, to stand up to Tara's father; hundreds of tiny
shared moments at the Magic Box, a look or a quip or a mutual laugh;
the pride on her face when Xander announced their engagement, which
only he seemed really to notice; their brief spell-
induced 'engagement;' resisting the impulse to kiss her again when
she threw her arms around him at the airport; Anya batting her lashes
at him when he reappeared to face Willow; ministering to him in the
ruins of their shop; the thing that nearly crumbled inside him when
he overheard Andrew telling Xander of her death.

That thing crumbled completely at last under the spotlight of her
gaze, and he put his face in his hands and wept bitter, grief-filled
tears.

When at last he lifted his head, he found himself alone in the
kitchen. He sat there still for a long time, trying to master his
harsh breathing.

"This cannot be real," he said in a shaky voice. "The literature -- s-
surely I'd have heard of such encounters -- "

{{Sure you have,}} whispered a feminine voice in his head. {{How
d'you know this isn't what they mean by keeping someone you love
alive in your heart?}}

Giles pondered that for a long moment, then reached again for his
glasses. He rose on hollow legs and walked blindly out of the
kitchen, through the living room (where he ignored Xander's chatter
about the ballgame on telly) and up the stairs toward his room. A
faint echo of female laughter followed his leaden footsteps.

He stopped short on the landing, just as he was about to pass the
open door to Buffy's bedroom. Buffy's voice, raised to a familiar,
particular pitch of frustration, reached his ears.

"- now LISTEN, you -- you -- SMUG -- know-it-all -- bleached-blond -- no-
fashion-sense -- OOOHHH! Who do you think you ARE to-to-to come in
here and start telling me what I should and shouldn't do -- after
you've gone and DIED on me no less -- "

"Buffy?"

She stopped jabbing a finger at the empty air in front of her and
spun to face the door at the sound of Giles' voice. The stricken look
on her face told him everything he needed to know.

"Oh Buffy." She stiffened when Giles threw his arms around her, then
relaxed into the hug, fighting down sobs. "I had no idea," he said as
he rocked her. "I promise, until tonight I had no idea..."

Whether he meant about her feelings or his own he could not say,
Giles thought as he looked over at the ghostly blonde leaning against
the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, a half-smile set off
by an eyebrow cocked knowingly.

The End