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Hell’s Bells

Prologue

Willow stands with an expression of horror on her face. “Buffy, it’s hideous. Oh my god, Buffy! Look at its arms.” Lightning flashes, and thunder booms.

Buffy’s expression matches Willow’s. “I know, but it’s my duty. I’m…Buffy the Bridesmaid.” Buffy and Willow are looking at their reflections in the full length mirror in Buffy’s room. They are wearing bright green dresses that look like they belong on Carmen Miranda.

The dresses fit closely around their legs, with a bottom fringe that hangs below their knees. There is a large green ‘flower’ on their left shoulders. Willow’s dress has poofy lace sleeves.

“Duty, shmuty,” says Willow. “I’m supposed to be best man. Shouldn’t I be all Marlene Dietrich-y in a dashing tuxedo number?”

Buffy thinks that would be totally unfair. If she has to wear this monstrosity, so should Willow.

“Oh. Well, maybe if I ask Anya, I can still go with the traditional blood larvae and burlap,” says Willow. “I mean, she was a vengeance demon for, like, a thousand years. She would know all the most flattering…larvae.” She looks at her reflection again. “What was she thinking?”

Buffy doesn’t think Anya was doing much thinking. Between Xander’s relatives, and her demons, Anya has been too stressed lately to think clearly.

The rehearsal dinner the night before had been a near disaster. Neither Buffy, nor Willow can quite believe that Xander’s relatives bought the story that Anya’s demon friends were “circus folk.” Of course that might have been because they were too drunk to really notice anything. Willow hadn’t seen them that bad since her Bat Mitzvah. Mr. Harris threw up into Buffy’s purse.

Anya appears at the door to Buffy’s room, dressed in a bathrobe, and gasps when she sees them. “Oh!” She puts her hands to her mouth, and then rushes toward them. “Ohh. You guys look so beautiful!” She grabs Buffy and Willow in a hug. “This is the happiest day of my whole life!”

Thunder crashes.

Xander enters the kitchen of his apartment and asks his Uncle Rory if he’s seen his cufflinks. Xander is half dressed in his tux, and still has damp hair from his shower. Rory is wearing a bathrobe which is hanging open, showing his pot belly, and boxer shorts. He tells Xander that he has no idea where his cufflinks are, and suggests that he go with velcro. He goes back to fiddling with Xander’s coffee maker.

Also present in the kitchen is Xander’s cousin Carol, a plump woman with short curly hair, about 35 years old, and her ten year old daughter, Karen. Carol is fixing a bowl of cereal for Karen and staring at the other “person” who followed Xander into the kitchen. A more or less humanoid looking demon, except for his extremely warty skin.

Xander asks Rory what he’s doing and Rory says that he’s trying to make himself some Irish coffee, but the coffee maker is broken. He starts to pull apart the heating element. Xander warns him to be careful, since it’s still plugged in.

The coffee maker starts to buzz, and Rory goes into convulsions. Xander rushes to unplug it. Rory just grins at him. “Got you!”

The demon offers to help with the coffee maker. Rory hands it over to him. “Knock yourself out, there, Kevin.” He decides to forego the coffee part, and pours some whiskey into a mug.

“Uh, that’s Krelvin,” says the demon.

The apartment door opens, and Xander’s parents, Tony and Jessica Harris come in. They shake the water off their raincoats.

Mr. Harris looks at Xander and taps his watch. “Xander, you’re not ready yet?”

Mrs. Harris is more worried about what the rain has done to her hair. “Of course, I suppose doesn’t really matter. ’Cause I won’t actually be in any of the pictures.”

“You’ll be in the pictures, Mom,” says Xander. “I think your hair looks lovely.” He asks them if they’d like some breakfast. Rory passes the mug of whiskey to Mr. Harris.

“Oh, well, I guess if I’m a little plump it doesn’t matter,” says his mother. “’Cause I won’t really be—”

“You’ll be in the pictures, Mom!” says Xander.

Mr. Harris points to Krelvin with his mug of whiskey. “That’s one of hers, right? Hey. You’re one of hers, right?”

Xander reminds his father that he met Krelvin last night.

“Yeah, we met,” says Krelvin. “You, uh, you said I resembled your mother-in-law. And then—then you hit me with a cocktail wiener, and then you insulted my heritage.”

“Heritage, hmm?” asks Mr. Harris. “Being circus folks is suddenly heritage now? I mean no disrespect, of course. I’m sure you come from a long, proud line of geeks.”

Xander has had enough of this, and leaves them to go back to hunting for his cufflinks.

His cousin Carol follows him. “Xander. Xander,” she asks quietly. ”You know that guy Kevin? If he could clear up the skin problem, do you think— Do you suppose he’d date a woman with a kid? I mean, I really can’t afford to be very picky.”

Xander hasn’t really been paying attention to what Carol’s saying. He’s been looking at her ears. “Cousin Carol, your earrings are my cufflinks.”

“They are?” Carol’s hands go her ears. “Oh, my. Oops.” She hands Xander her ‘earrings.’

Xander clutches them in his hands. “Excellent. Cufflinks: check. We’re rolling! Nothing on earth can stop this wedding now!”

Rain pours down on a Sunnydale street. The air shimmers, and turns to a sheet of flame. An old man in a beige overcoat steps out of it. He looks around, and opens his umbrella. He steps up onto the sidewalk and walks off down the street.

Act I

“Is it too small?” asks Xander. “It fit when I picked up the tux. How could it not fit now?” He’s in his dressing room at the Sunnydale Bison’s Lodge, where the wedding is taking place, and Buffy is helping him finish getting dressed. “Aw, man, what if it doesn’t? What if I can’t wear my cummerbund, and then the whole world can see the place where my pants meet my shirt! Buffy, that cannot happen. I must wear das cummerbund!”

Buffy pulls on the straps “And so…you…shall!” She manages to get his cummerbund fastened. “Slayer strength!”

Xander turns around. “I’ve been meaning to cut back on the habit-forming oxygen.”

Buffy looks at Xander and smiles. She pulls his bow-tie from around her neck, and starts to put it around his neck. She’s also wearing his tuxedo jacket over her bridesmaid’s dress. “Look at you. You look great, Mr. About-to-get-married. Glowing. Oh, my god! Maybe you’re pregnant!”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just happy.” Xander looks at Buffy, and sees the tears forming in her eyes. “Teary.”

“Oh, good.” Buffy waves her hands in front of her face. “Good teary.” She goes back to trying to tie his bow-tie.

“Happy teary?” asks Xander. “Not frustrated-with-bow-tie teary?”

“Yes, happy,” says Buffy. “Happy for you. That makes me happy for me. You and Anya give me hope. It’s like you two are proof that there’s light at the end of this very long, long nasty tunnel. And I cannot tie this tie. Isn’t— Where’s your best man? Isn’t she supposed to do this?”

“She said she had something important to do,” says Xander.

Willow offers to hold the back of Anya’s dress closed while Tara does it up. She smiles at Tara as their hands touch. Tara smiles back. She’s wearing a bridesmaid dress too, with poofy sleeves like Willow’s

“Are you guys even listening?” asks Anya. “I need feedback, people.” Her hair is done up in rollers, and she’s wearing a gel mask over her face.

“Sorry,” says Tara. “Please continue with the vows.”

Anya clears her throat. “I, Anya, promise to love you, to cherish you, to honour you, but not to obey you, of course, because that’s anachronistic and misogynistic, and who do you think you are, like, a sea captain or something? Um, however, I do entrust you with—” She notices Willow and Tara giggling behind her back. “What? Is something funny?”

“No, nothing, Sweetie,” says Tara. “Just—just keep still.”

Anya tries to remember her place. “Okay, blah, blah, blah, misogynistic. Blah, blah, I entrust you with my heart. Take care of my heart, won’t you please? Take care of it, because, it’s all that I have, and if you let me, I’ll take care of your heart, too. I’ll protect it and tend to it like a little stray. Wait, no. Like a little mangy stray that needs a home. No, that’s not it either.”

Tara and Willow have finished doing up Anya’s dress, and they step back to get a good look at her. Anya turns around to face them.

“Wow,” says Willow. “You look lovely. Really. Lovely.”

Anya turns to look at herself in the full length mirror in the room. Her wedding dress is sleeveless, and strapless, and hugs her figure. “Thanks. It’s probably the blush of imprudent spending. Do you think Xander will like it? Oh, I want to see Xander now!”

“You can’t,” says Willow. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress, remember?”

“Right,” says Anya. “I can’t keep all these ridiculous traditions straight.” She gets an idea. “What if I’m not wearing my dress when I see him?” Willow and Tara give her a look. “Okay, no sex. Cuddling? It’s just I’m so excited, and I want to share it all with my best friend. I get to be with my best friend forever!” She squeals with delight.

Dawn—also in a green bridesmaid dress, but without the poofy sleeves, on her it almost looks good—is greeting guests as they enter the hall. Rory comes in with his arm around a twenty year old girl who he introduces to Dawn as his date for the evening. The girl tells Dawn that she’s really one of the caterers, and is supposed to be working.

Rory tells her to hush. “No woman of mine is going to work. All you have to do is sit pretty and laugh when I tell a good one. Tell her what a funny guy I am, Dawnie.”

Dawn tells them that she’s got to go, and to enjoy the wedding.

Rory leads his ‘date’ away. He sees a stuffed bison head on the wall, covered with a veil of white tulle. “Oh, bad head.”

“What?” asks his date.

“Well, the lip wasn’t split right,” says Rory. He points to the stuffed bison’s lip. “You see, what you got to do is you got to grab the lip between your thumb and your finger, and then you have to slice right through the center of the meat. It was my trade. I used to stuff things. I still do. But only for fun.”

Dawn greets D’Hoffryn as he enters the hall.

“Hymen’s greetings!” says D’Hoffryn. Dawn is confused. “Hymen, the god of matrimony,” he explains. “His salutations upon you. May the love we celebrate today avoid an almost inevitable decline.”

D’Hoffryn is carrying a box that has holes cut in it, and asks where the gifts should go. Dawn offers to take it from him, and he hands it over, with a warning to be careful.

“Fragile?” asks Dawn.

“Squirmy,” says D’Hoffryn.

Dawn tries to look in one of the holes, and a sucker covered tentacle pokes out at her. “Ooh!” She tries to hold the box away from herself as the tentacle feels her up.

Halfrek, also in a bridesmaid dress, has followed D’Hoffryn into the hall. Dawn isn’t exactly pleased to see her. She follows Dawn as she carries the box to the gift table. “So, Dawnie, how is everything? Going good? Nothing you, um, nothing you wish was different?”

“Hallie, for Yekk’s sake, take a day off,” says D’Hoffryn. “We’re not here to do vengeance. We’re here to mingle.”

Dawn puts the box down on the table and turns around in time to see Spike entering the hall. He has his arm draped around the shoulder of a very goth looking girl, with a ring piercing her eyebrow. Dawn goes to greet him. “Spike.”

Spike turns around. “Oh, I want you to meet the date.”

Dawn holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Dawn.”

Spike’s date just looks at Dawn. “Uh-huh.”

“So, yeah, anyway, that’s my date,” says Spike. “She’s with me…my date for the wedding.”

“Yeah,” says Dawn. “Okay, well, nice meeting you.”

Carol and Rory stand talking with Clem and another demon with tentacles for hands, and growing out of his face. Carol asks what circus life is like.

“Your friend—the fellow with the warts—went off on his circus heritage like you folks are all in some kind of cult or something,” says Rory.

“Oh, well, there are ancient ways,” says Clem. Then he remembers the cover story. “Clowning as an occupation grew out of the Commedia dell’Arte. And ancient sports, of course.”

Rory thinks all that’s fine, but they shouldn’t expect Xander to raise his children in any foreign kind of cults.

“You think that children should be raised in ignorance of our ways?” asks the squid demon.

“No,” says Carol “No, the Harrises are very broad-minded. We’re Episcopalians.”

Mr. Harris is sitting at the bar. “Till death do us part!” He drains his glass and tells the bartender to pour him another drink.

The old man walks into the hall, looking out of place in his beige overcoat.

Xander puts on his jacket, and asks Buffy how he looks.

Buffy sits back in a chair and gives Xander a final once over. They’ve found his shoes, and his fly’s zipped. She thinks he’s good to go. She gets up and goes to him. “You’re one of the decent ones, Xander. I hope I’m as lucky as you guys some day.”

“You want to get lucky?” asks Xander. “I still got, what, fifteen, twenty minutes.”

Buffy hugs him. “Oh! All right.” She lets go. “Into the breach with you.”

“Okay, breach me.” Xander opens the door, and they go out into the corridor together. “Now, let’s go over the list one more time. Number one.”

“Don’t let your dad near the bar,” says Buffy.

“Check. Number two.”

“Don’t let your mom near the bar.”

“Check,” says Xander.

Dawn catches up with them in the corridor, and tells Buffy about Spike arriving with his date. “A total skank! A manic-panicked freak who he’s, like, totally macking with right in the middle of the room. I saw him shove his tongue down—”

Buffy tries to repress a twinge of jealousy. “Spike brought a date?”

“Yeah,” says Dawn. “Wait till you see her.”

Xander tells them that he has to go meet and greet the guests. Buffy tells him to go ahead.

Xander steps into the hall, and is inundated by well wishing relatives. He smiles and shakes hands as he moves through the mob. An elderly aunt pinches his cheeks.

He’s intercepted by his mother. She’s upset because the usher put her in the third row. Xander tries to assure her that it was just a mistake. More people move in on him. Rory wants to know where the photographer is. He has a proposition for him.

One of the people closing in on Xander is the old man. He tries to pull Xander out of the mob, saying that he really needs to talk with him.

Dawn comes running up. “Xander! Xander, one of Anya’s presents got loose.”

“Got loose?” asks Xander.

“Yeah, it’s a fully live squiggly thingie,” says Dawn. “Why is Halfrek a bridesmaid?”

Xander’s mother is still complaining about being stuck in the third row.

The old man grabs Xander and pulls him from the mob. “Please, please, you have to listen to me! You can’t get married today. It’s a huge mistake.”

Xander thanks him for the advice, and then looks at him. He thinks he must be some uncle he can’t recognise.

“You don’t recognise me, do you?” asks the old man.

“I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“It sounds crazy, I know,” says the old man. “But you have to believe me. I’m Xander Harris. I’m you.”

Act II

“What do you mean, ‘you’re me?’” asks Xander.

“I’m you,” says the old man. “I’m you from the future.”

Xander is greatly relieved. “For a minute, I thought you were a nutball, but now that you’re from the future—”

The old man gets more agitated, and tells Xander that he has to listen to him.

Xander tries to calm him down. He looks toward the bar, where he sees his father having a drink. “I swear I told that guy no drinks before the ceremony.”

Mr. Harris raises his glass. “Toast! A toast.”

The old man tells Xander that he can prove what he’s saying is true. He pulls a glowing glass orb from his pocket and asks Xander to come with him. Xander is torn between going with him, and doing something about his father, who is continuing his toast.

“…and to my wife…Jessica. Where are ya, honey?” He looks around and finds her standing with Rory. “There she is. To my wife. What would I do without you, beautiful?” Jessica smiles. “Well, for starters, I probably wouldn’t need to drink so much, would I?” Her smile freezes on her face. “On the brighter side, marriage has probably saved me from a nasty dose of the clap. Heh heh heh! Here’s to ya.”

“Does this jerk ever shut up?” asks Clem.

“He’s startin’ to make my suckers twitch,” says the squid demon.

Mr. Harris continues. “And a toast, to the bride’s dermatologically challenged family shrub—”

“Sit down!” shouts the squid demon.

“Hey, I paid for all this,” says Mr. Harris. “You want me to sit down, you cough up a couple a grand, squiddly.”

The squid demon starts for Mr. Harris.

Buffy blocks him. “Mazel tov!” She grabs Mr. Harris by the arm and drags him away from the bar. “Hey! What’s this? You must be so happy for Xander on his very special, once-in-a-lifetime day, huh, Mr. Harris?”

Mr. Harris leers at Buffy. “Nice chassis. What’s under the hood?” He growls at her.

Buffy thinks that it would be a really good idea to get some coffee into Mr. Harris. She starts to drag him back toward the kitchen. She drags him past Spike and his date, but she’s so intent on Mr. Harris that she doesn’t notice them. Spike watches her as they pass.

“Uh…Did you used to own a little, square, pinkish purse?” asks Mr. Harris.

“I did,” says Buffy.

“I thought so. Hey, what do you say we slip in the back room and I show you my—”

“You finish that sentence, and I guarantee you won’t have anything to show,” says Buffy.

The old man leads Xander into the Bison Lodge’s trophy room. He holds the orb out to Xander. Xander asks what it is.

“It’s magic,” says the old man. “Very powerful. Look at it. You’ll see what I’ve seen… Feel what I’ve felt.”

Xander looks at the orb, and it begins to glow brighter. A beam of light shines from it, onto his forehead, and Xander is sucked into the orb.

Xander materializes sitting in a reclining chair in front of a high definition TV set. He has a beer in one hand, and a remote control in the other. There’s a football game on the TV. He’s still dressed in his tuxedo. He calls out for Anya.

An eight year old girl, with large floppy ears, kind of like Clem’s, runs into the room. “Get the hell away from me!” she shouts. “Dad, Josh’s teasing me!”

The girl is being chased by her ten year old brother. “Sarah’s a weirdo, Sarah’s a weirdo!” he’s singing.

Anya—looking about fifteen years older—comes in, tucking her blouse into her skirt, and asks what his problem is. Xander is surprised that she’s going out.

“I’m doing a makeover party,” says Anya.

“I thought you hated those.”

“Well, one of us has to make some money.”

“Well, what do you want me to do, Anya, huh?” asks Xander. “I can’t work. My back’s shot.”

“And whose fault is that?” asks Anya. She starts picking up beer bottles.

“Oh, no, no, no. Not the Buffy thing again.” Xander takes another swig from his beer.

“You had no business fighting demons with her,” says Anya.

“Buffy needed me,” says Xander. “I had to help.”

“Well, it didn’t save her, did it? All it did was ruin our lives. I’ll be late.” Anya storms out.

Xander takes another swig of beer. “I hope you crash in your stupid pink car!”

Xander sits beside Anya at a table in an Italian restaurant. Josh and Sarah, aged twenty, and eighteen sit across from them.

Sarah picks at her salad. “I hate this place. You guys know I don’t eat wheat.”

“You don’t eat anything, freak,” says Josh.

“At least I’m not a mama’s boy.”

“At least I’m not a demonic freak.”

“Dad, make him cut it.” Sarah tells Xander.

“Maybe you should talk to your mother about that,” says Xander. He picks up his glass of wine and gulps some down.

Anya looks at him and tells him he’s had too much.

“Have I?” asks Xander. “I’m just saying maybe you should talk to your daughter!”

Sarah jumps to her feet. “I hate you guys!” she yells. “And I know that you’re not my real dad, and I hate you! I hate you both! I wish you’d die!” She runs out of the restaurant.

Xander is still dressed in his tuxedo, and looking about twenty years old. “If you were so unhappy, why didn’t you just leave?”

Anya is sitting at the kitchen table in a dingy little apartment. She looks about fifty years old. “I wanted to. I should have.”

Xander really thinks she should have. “’Cause then maybe I would have gotten some touch in the past twenty years.”

“I wasn’t the one who stopped touching!” says Anya.

“Oh-ho…maybe, but you weren’t touching me.”

“Well, what did you expect me to do?” asks Anya. “You wouldn’t come near me after Buffy—”

“Don’t bring her into this!”

“Fine. Forget her,” says Anya. “Maybe you were just born to be a bitter, angry old man!”

“Shut up,” says Xander.

“No!” says Anya. “I want my life back! If I hadn’t married you, I wouldn’t have had to hate myself for the last thirty years!”

Xander goes to the stove and picks up a frying pan. “Shut up!” He swings it at her head.

Xander finds himself back in the trophy room of the Bison’s Lodge. The old man apologises to him. He had hoped that Xander wouldn’t have to see that. Xander asks what happened. What he saw.

“A glimpse of your future,” says the old man, “harnessed by magic.”

“Is she okay?” asks Xander. “Is she okay? What did I do?”

The old man tells Xander that he doesn’t have much time before the spell that brought him back expires, but Xander can change things. “It doesn’t have to go like this. But you can’t marry Anya.”

“But—”

“You’ll hurt her less today than you will later, believe me,” says the old man. “Sometimes, two people… All they bring each other…is pain.”

Buffy sees Spike leaning against the wall by himself. She pauses for a moment, gathering her nerve, before she approaches him to say hello.

“It’s a happy occasion,” says Spike. “You meet my friend?”

“No. Not yet,” says Buffy. “But she seems like a…very nice attempt at making me jealous.”

“Is it working?”

Buffy waits a beat before answering. “A little. It doesn’t change anything. But if you’re wildly curious, yeah, it hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” says Spike, then he remembers why he brought his date. “Or, good!” His expression softens. “You want us to go?”

“No,” says Buffy. “No, I… You have every right to be here. And I pretty much deserve—”

“That’s not true,” says Spike. “You… God, this is hard.”

“Yeah,” says Buffy.

Spike thinks he should be going. Buffy asks if he plans to take his date back to his crypt. Spike admits that was the plan, he is evil after all, but he’s having second thoughts now. He still thinks he should be going. “Give my best or whatever… happy couple.”

Buffy smiles, and tells him she will.

Spike smiles at Buffy. “It’s nice to watch you be happy. For them…even. I don’t see it a lot. You, um… You glow.”

Buffy almost laughs. “That’s because the dress is radioactive.”

Spike chuckles, but he can see that this is hurting Buffy. He thanks her, and walks away to find his date.

Buffy watches him go. “You’re welcome.”

Spike finds his date, and tells her they should be going. “But what about the wedding?” she asks.

Spike pulls her toward the door. “Let’s just piss off, all right?”

Willow finds Xander pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “I’ll say this for the Y chromosome: looks good in a tux.”

Xander looks at her. “Well, your double Xes don’t look too bad, there, either.”

“You’re getting married. My little Xander.” Willow hugs him. “It’s a good thing I realized I was gay. Otherwise, hey, you, me, and formal wear… Do you know how much I love you?”

Xander hugs her back. “Mmm… About half as much as I love you.”

“You ready for the long walk?” asks Willow. Xander says he needs a few seconds, to work on his vows. She tells him to take his time. “It’s not like we can start the wedding without you.”

Tara watches Anya work on her vows in her dressing room. “I, Anya, promise to cherish you. Eww, no. Not cherish. Um…I promise to have sex with you whenever I want, and, uh…uh, pledge to be your friend, your wife, and your confidant. And your sex poodle.”

“Uh, ‘sex poodle?’” asks Tara. She doesn’t think that’s a good idea for something to include in the vows.

The string quartet starts to play in the hall.

Anya hears the music. “The music. They’re playing the music! This is it.”

The door opens, and Buffy pokes her head in. “Are you ready to go?”

Willow pulls Buffy back into the corridor, and shuts the door. “He’s gone! Xander disappeared!”

Act III

“What?” asks Buffy. “Xander’s gone? Wha-what should we do?”

“I’m going to go look for him,” says Willow. “I’m going to find him. A-and you’re going to stall.”

Buffy goes back into Anya’s dressing room, and tells her that there’s going to be a bit of a delay. The minister got called away. “He had, uh, to go and perform an emergency C-section.”

“C-section?” asks Anya. Tara looks at Buffy in disbelief.

“Yeah,” says Buffy. “You know, he’s, uh, not—not just a minister, he’s also a doctor. You know, he’s half minister, half doctor. He’s a uh, uh, uh, mini-tor. Not, of course, to be confused with a minotaur, because he’s all, you know, man, this doctor minister man.” Tara looks back and forth between Buffy, and Anya, clearly not believing a word of this, but keeping her mouth shut. “No—no bull parts whatsoever. So it’s—it’ll be, uh, a couple of minutes.”

Buffy goes out again, and Anya turns toward Tara, for another rehearsal of her vows. “Okay. For the last time. I, Anya, want to marry you, Xander, because…I love you, and I’ll always love you. And, before I knew you, I was, like, a completely different person. Not even a person, really.”

Xander walks down the street with his shoulders hunched against the rain.

Anya continues her vows. “And I had seen what love could do to people, and it was…hurt and sadness. Alone was better. And then, suddenly, there was you. And you knew me, you saw me, and it was this…thing. You make me feel safe and warm. So, I get it now. I finally get love, Xander. I really do.”

All the guests are waiting in their seats for the ceremony to commence. Karen tells her mother that she’s bored.

“It’s a wedding, honey,” says Carol. “We’re all bored.”

Buffy starts up the aisle between the guests, and the string quartet starts to play the wedding march. Buffy waves them off. “No, no! It’s, uh— It’s not what you think.” She rushes up to the front and has a quiet word with the minister.

The quartet starts to play the recessional as Buffy goes back down the aisle. Carol looks across the aisle at Krelvin, and smiles. Krelvin smiles back. Mr. Harris gets out of his seat and goes back over to the bar.

Anya paces impatiently in her dressing room. “What the hell was that minister thinking?” she asks Tara. “I mean, delivering a baby on my special day? I mean, it’s totally rude of him, and the mother. I mean, why couldn’t he have just told her to hold it?”

Mr. Harris orders himself a double of Jack Daniel’s.

Mrs. Harris stands beside him, and looks over at the guests. She thinks that this wedding is turning into a complete disaster. Mr. Harris things it’s all Anya’s fault, after she made him pay for the whole thing.

Halfrek leans back from her seat in the front row to speak with D’Hoffryn, who is seated behind her. “This thing totally isn’t happening. We should have known that she would never, ever—”

“I am worried about Anya,” says D’Hoffryn.

Halfrek gets huffy. “Oh, sure. Of course you are.”

D’Hoffryn pats her on the shoulder. “Oh, Halfrek, you know I love all my demons equally.”

Carol gets out of her seat, and goes to talk with Buffy. She has to do something.

Buffy gets up on the stage in front of the guests. “So, who here’s from out of town?”

Buffy looks over the crowd. Clem puts up his hand.

Dawn is standing in the front foyer with a tall teenaged demon with horns coming out of his forehead. They’re comparing how messed up their families are.

Buffy tries to entertain the guests with a game of charades.

Anya has gotten tired of waiting. Tara tries to get her to stop as she leaves the dressing room, but Anya is done waiting. “This bride waits for no one! If the minister’s not here yet, well, then, we just have to get married without a minister.”

Buffy and Krelvin entertain the guests with a little juggling.

Dawn steps back into the hall with her new demon friend. He asks what the holdup is.

“Can you keep a secret?” asks Dawn. “Nobody knows this— but the groom, he took off and no one can find him.”

Anya has just entered the hall from the side entrance and overheard Dawn. “What?” Dawn’s new friend decides it’s a good time for him to be elsewhere.

“Xander’s gone?” asks Anya. “Xander’s missing? What do you mean Xander’s missing?”

Everyone in the hall heard that, and they all turn to look at Anya. Rory starts to laugh. “It’s a joke. Xander is playing a joke. It’s like one time, at one of Carol’s weddings, I had this ape suit—”

“Oh, great,” says the squid demon. “Another Harris family joke. Why don’t you have another drink!”

Mr. Harris gets up to face him. “Drinking is the only way I can dull the pain of looking at your ugly face.”

The squid demon slaps Mr. Harris on the chest with his tentacles. “You better think real hard about this, Harris.”

“Don’t touch me with those nasty circus things!” The demon pats him on the chest again. Mr. Harris swings a punch at the squid demon that misses.

“That’s it!” says the squid, and he punches back. Chaos erupts as the two groups of guests attack each other. Buffy looks on from the stage, and rolls her eyes, but she stays out of the fight.

Tara gets caught up in the middle of the melee, and Willow pulls her free. Anya wades into the fray, looking for anyone who knows what happened to Xander.

Carol points to the old man standing off to the side, with a smile on his face. “I saw him go to the trophy room with that guy.”

Anya goes over to the old man and asks him what happened with Xander. “What did he say to you? What did you say to him?”

“It really doesn’t matter now, does it?” says the old man. “It’s done.”

“What’s done?” asks Anya. “Did you—? If you said something to make him leave—”

“You’ll what?” asks the old man. “Haven’t changed a bit. Still as vindictive as ever.”

Anya looks at the old man. “Do I know you?”

“You don’t recognise me, Anya?” says the old man. “I’m not the man I used to be, I know.” He turns and starts to walk away.

“Xander!” Anya grabs the old man by the shoulder, and turns him around. “Where is he? You tell me, old man! You tell me why he left!”

“He left because of you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, really?” asks the old man. “What about this?” He starts to swell, and grows into a seven foot tall demon, with spiney green skin.

Act IV

“Tell me what you did with Xander.” Anya tells the demon. “What are you?”

“You did this,” says the demon. “You brought this on. I’ve waited a long time for this, Anyanka.”

“Who are you?”

“Remember Chicago? South side, 1914? Stewart Burns, philanderer? You’d think you’d remember. I remembered you. But then again, you ruined my life.”

Anya realizes what this must be, even though she can’t remember him. “You were a… I punished you.”

“That’s right. Some hussy I’d been taking around summons you. Next thing I know, I look like this, and I’m being tortured in another dimension.” The demon snarls and slashes its claws at her.

Buffy sees the demon hit Anya from across the hall, and starts toward them, but she has to get through the brawl going on between the wedding guests.

“Every day I remembered, and every day I thought about how I would somehow get here and ruin your life like you ruined mine. It didn’t take much, either. I scared off your fiancé with a couple of phony visions.”

“Visions of what?” asks Anya.

“Your future. Or his nightmare vision of your future.”

Anya sniffs back tears. “That’s it? That’s all you did?”

“Yeah. It was easy,” says the demon. “Look at that. You’re crying. Oh, I like that.”

“Stop it,” whispers Anya.

The demon has no intention of stopping. It likes seeing her cry. “And now, I’d love to see you scream.” It snarls and rakes its claws across her arm. Anya screams.

The demon pulls back its arm for another strike, and gets hit in the head with a chair. It spins around in time to see Buffy swinging the chair at it again for a second strike, and it knocks it out of her hands.

Buffy’s dress is hampering her movements too much, so she bends down and rips it from the hem to half way up her thigh.

The delay has given the demon the chance to grab Anya though. It holds her by the throat, and swings her around as a shield. “Come any closer, and I’ll kill her.”

“Anya!” shouts Xander from the door.

The demon spins to face him, giving Buffy an opening. She kicks it in the groin and it lets go of Anya.

Anya runs to Xander, while Buffy continues to beat up on the demon.

“I am so glad you’re here,” Anya tells Xander. “It was all lies what he showed you. It wasn’t true. He just wanted to break us up.”

Xander looks at Buffy fighting the demon. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“So we’ll be okay,” says Anya.

Buffy excuses herself as she passes between them to get the piece of tulle lace decorating the bison head on the wall behind them. She takes it back and wraps it around the demon’s neck to strangle it.

Xander steps in holding one of the columns which had been holding up some of the floral decorations. He bashes the demon on the head with it a couple of times. “It’s dead.”

“Yep,” says Buffy.

A round of applause breaks out among the wedding guests, who had stopped their fight to watch Buffy fight the demon.

Willow and Tara join the group around the demon’s body. “Is anyone else waiting for it to go poof?” asks Willow. The body is just lying there. “Maybe we can cover it with flowers.”

Mr. Harris looks around at the wrecked chairs and things. “Look at this damage. I’m not paying for this, you freaks!”

“Stop calling us freaks!” Krelvin charges at Mr. Harris, and the brawl breaks out again.

“Stop it!” shouts Anya, and everybody stops. “Everyone sit down! This wedding will go on, so get back in your seats!”

Everyone starts back toward their seats. Anya turns back to Xander. She takes his hands in hers. “You know it’s bad luck to see me in my dress.” Xander stands before her looking totally desolate. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s all over now. He’s dead. And it’s all just smoke and mirrors.”

“I know,” says Xander.

“So…we’re ready now. Let’s get married.”

“I—I…I’m not. I’m not ready. I can’t, Ahn, I’m sorry.”

“But it—it wasn’t real, what he showed you. It wasn’t real.”

“I know it wasn’t real. But it could be.”

“What was it? Was it about me? ’Cause he wanted you to hate me, Xander.”

“It wasn’t you,” says Xander. “It wasn’t you I was hating. I had these thoughts and fears before this. Maybe we just went too fast.”

Anya starts to cry again. “Look, everybody has thoughts. It’s natural. It doesn’t mean that—that getting married is wrong. You’re just shaken up. Okay? You just calm down, and we’ll start over, okay?”

Xander looks across the hall, and sees his father shouting at his mother. He can’t hear what he’s saying. “We can’t start over. If this is a mistake, it’s forever, and… I don’t want to hurt you. Not that way.” He lets go of Anya’s hands. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

Anya turns away from Xander, and slowly walks toward the wedding guests waiting quietly in their seats. Xander watches her for a moment, and then turns and walks out the door.

The string quartet starts to play the wedding march as Anya walks up the aisle, with tears running down her cheeks. The guests rise to their feet and turn to watch her.

Epilogue

Buffy, Willow and Dawn sit in their living room that evening, drinking tea. They have changed out of their bridesmaid’s gowns into some comfortable clothing. “Should we do something for her?” asks Dawn. “Anything?”

“She wants to be alone. That’s what she wants,” says Willow. “Oh god, it just hurts my heart to think of her.”

“I know,” says Buffy. “The whole thing hurts my heart.”

“I thought they were happy,” says Dawn.

“They were,” says Buffy. “I know they were. They were supposed to be my light at the end of the tunnel. Guess they were a train.”

Dawn asks why it happened, but none of them knows.

“I feel like I should be hating Xander,” says Willow, “But I can’t. I just… I just hope he’s okay.”

“I wonder where he is,” says Dawn.

The night manager of a cheap motel shows Xander to his room, hands him his key, and tells him that checkout is at eleven.

Anya sits alone in the dark, still wearing her wedding dress. D’Hoffryn holds out a handkerchief to her and asks if she’s okay.

Anya doesn’t look up. “I’m tired…of crying. I’m just so tired, D’Hoffryn.”

“Oh, Anyanka,” sighs D’Hoffryn. “I’m sorry, but you let him domesticate you. When you were a vengeance demon, you were powerful. At the top of your game you crushed men like him. It’s time you got back to what you do best, don’t you think?”

Anya looks up at him, an indecipherable expression on her face.

Death Toll