Peanut Butter And...
by The Mad Poetess


Xander shrugged out of his FoodMart stockboy shirt and hung it in his 
locker. An reasonably uneventful morning of unpacking boxes, freezing 
his ass off re-filling the dairy case, and cleaning up a disastrous 
baby-food spill on Aisle Nine had left him still able to walk and 
chew gum. Which was more than he could say for last night's thrill-a-
minute late shift at Chuck-E-Cheese, not to mention the psychotic 
interlude that had followed when he got home. The routine of the 
morning had given him all too much time to think about how little 
sleep he'd gotten the previous night, and why. A half-hour stint of 
re-arranging the cereal aisle hadn't helped matters.

At the end of his five-hour shift, as he pushed his cart down the 
aisles looking for provisions that would fit in his little 
refrigerator or his three tiny cupboards, his thoughts weren't any 
clearer. He pulled items off the shelf almost on auto-pilot. [So what 
the hell did Spike mean by… that, and what the hell did I mean by
not kicking his undead ass?] 

It wasn't like he was cheating on anybody, since Anya had 
unceremoniously informed him on Monday afternoon that "they" were 
over, but she'd like to stay friends. He still couldn't quite wrap 
his mind around that concept. [Friends? Anya? Anya who only puts up 
with *mine* because I told her over and over that there are other 
relationships in the world than the orgasmic? And when did *I* come 
to that mature conclusion, anyway? Couldn't have proved it by me in 
high school…] But Spike? Undead guy? *Male* undead guy? 

He rounded the corner of Aisle Two (bread and condiments) and banged 
his shopping cart smack into the cart of the last person he expected 
to see. (Well, technically, Spike would have been the last person, 
since it was one in the afternoon and the sun was high in the sky, 
so maybe the second-to-last person.) Anya herself. Her cart was well-
stocked with yummy junk-food, Xander noted approvingly in the middle 
of his panic. [I have taught the young Jedi well.] She looked up at 
him.

"Are you stalking me, Xander? Because while it's strangely 
flattering, the next step as I understand it would be either you 
leaving dead tropical fish in an envelope on my bed, or us ending up 
on the Jerry Springer Show. Can we skip those steps?" She said it 
with a perfectly straight face, and God knew, she was probably 
serious. Humour was one of those things that Anya was rediscoving…
slowly.

"Yes, Anya, I came to work today with the express purpose of stalking 
you. I exist only to terrorize you with discount grocery products. If 
you don't come back to me, I swear I'll suffocate myself in the 
plastic-bag recycling bin." He reached down to disentangle the left 
front wheel of his cart from the right front wheel of hers. [Yes, 
Anya, I can't live without you. That's why I let a blood-sucking 
demon kiss me last night. Yeah, that would go over well.] 

Anya was silent for a minute. Finally, "That was a joke, right?"

Xander stood back up. Anya had her face screwed up in a quizzical 
expression, and she wore an old t-shirt and faded jeans Willow had 
given her--but she still looked like hot sex on toast. [Well, at 
least I'm still functioning in a manly manner, even if it's my ex-
girlfriend I happen to be ogling.] 

"Yes, that was a joke."

"I knew it! And you told me I wouldn't recognize humour if it came up 
and bit me on the ass." She smiled proudly.

"Woo-hoo, go you. No ass-biting required. No, I'm not stalking you, 
An. And the tropical fish gag is supposed to be pulled on your best 
friend, not you. Which would be… Never mind." Xander followed
*that* 
thought to its logical conclusion—her best friend had been him, 
hadn't it? And now who did she have? Then he followed his comment to 
its logical conclusion, and realized that it didn't come out the way 
he meant, as a hurt expression materialized on Anya's face.

"I guess I deserved that," she answered slowly. "At the moment I 
guess I *am* my own best friend. But I really wasn't trying to be 
when I broke up with you. Look, Xander, I was hoping we could also 
skip the step where you hate me and say bitter, funny things to me 
every time we meet. Can we?"

"That could be dangerous. Remember when Willow tried to skip a few 
steps in the breakup process?" he teased. "I'm sorry, Anya. That 
wasn't meant to be a Chandler Bing moment. If I learned anything from 
Cordy it's that nursing grudges sucks, even with zingy one-liners. I 
don't hate you. I don't understand, but I don't hate you." He pulled 
his cart back and maneuvered it around Anya's, so their carts stood 
side by side, completely blocking the bread aisle. [God help us if 
there's a run on tasty baked goods.]

"Oh, good. See, that's why I love you. You're so sensible." She 
smiled, apparently completely relieved, then added "And the mind-
blowing sex was also a factor."

The middle-aged woman a few feet down the aisle from Anya looked over 
at them, scanned Xander head-to-toe, and muttered, "Whatever you say, 
little girl," before turning back to the Wonder Bread display.

"Hey, if she says it was mind-blowing, it was mind-blowing... " 
Xander answered hotly, and then more slowly, " Mrs. Thompson..." and 
then began repeatedly banging his head against the edge of a shelf. 
[Yes, Xander, that's it. Debate your ex-sex life with your mother's 
bridge partner. That'll make a lovely topic of conversation at the 
Fourth of July barbecue.] Only when he heard his neighbor's cart 
squeak off down the aisle did he look back up at Anya. 

"OK, so if I'm Mr. Sensible Mind-Blowing Sex Guy, why is it you 
dumped me, again?" he said in what he hoped was a sensible, not-
pathetic voice.

"Because you're not in love with me. And you won't ever be," she said 
matter-of-factly, as if she were explaining politely why choosy moms 
choose Jif.

"Yeah, I heard that part. But the machine must have cut you off 
before you got around to what the hell you meant by that. " [And 
thank God Spike showed up on Tuesday, and wasn't around to take 
*that* message... I'd never live it down.]

She grimaced. "Yes...sorry. That was cowardly. Manlike, even."

"I do love you, Anya. I thought you knew that." [I question some of 
your socialization skills, but I'm pretty sure I do love you.] "And 
yeah, there's the mind-blowing sex. Which is nice. But it isn't 
everything." He yanked two loaves of whole wheat bread off the 
shelf, thought better of it, and decided on that childhood comforter, 
Wonder bread. Which was on the other side of Anya.

"Yes, you do. And no, it isn't. You love me the same way you love 
Buffy, and not quite as much as you love Willow. I really am just 
your friend. An orgasm friend, sure. But do you see us getting 
married, Xander? Do you see us together in five years? Are you even 
sure you want to spend next Christmas with me? You're not in love 
with me, and right now that's enough for you, to be friends who have 
sex, or think about having sex, or discuss having sex loudly in 
public places. "

"Hey, that last one's your specialty." [Or did she mean that we were 
supposed to have sex loudly in a public place? I do remember 
discussing that, and I distinctly recall veto-ing the idea...]

"Shut up and let me finish, please. I may not be explaining this very 
well. I haven't had a lot of practice with amicable breakups. Most of 
the communications I was involved in tended to involve boils or 
exploding sexual organs. But you need to understand. It's not enough 
for me. I could pretend that it was, and probably make you believe 
it. But sooner or later it wouldn't be enough for you either. And 
you'd hurt me. You wouldn't mean to, but you would. And I'd hate you, 
and there'd be frogs and leprosy and plagues of locusts. Or there 
would be if I had my powers back. I don't want that, because, believe 
it or not, Xander Harris, completely separate from craving your 
luscious manly body..."

There was a snort from the next aisle over that made Xander suspect 
that Mrs. Thompson hadn't traveled very far.

"...and the whole being in love with you thing, which I think I can 
maybe get over, if we end this thing now..." 

[Pause for breath, Anya, or you'll turn blue...] Xander thought. 

"...I like you. And I don't want to not like you anymore. I'm new to 
this friend thing, and I only have a few. You were my first, and I 
don't want to lose you." 

[OK, brain not functioning properly. Maybe I'm having a stroke? That 
might explain last night. It was a figment of lack of blood supply to 
the brain. Anya broke up with me because she *likes* me? And this is 
actually making sense to me?]

"That's...pretty sensible, from the girl who thought we were breaking 
up because we didn't have sex for two nights in a row," he finally 
replied. He pushed his cart forward, until he was standing next to 
her, and put his arms around her. It felt...familiar, and strange, at 
the same time. Anya as friend? It would take some getting used to.

"Yeah, well..." she answered. "You got a call from Cordelia while you 
were in the shower last week. She's pretty smart, for somebody who 
willingly chose not to have sex with you. We talked. She taught. I 
learned."

"In one phone call?"

"It was a long shower."

"And the message was?"

Anya frowned. "Something about demons overrunning the Earth if you 
didn't call her back by Wednesday, I think. Nothing important."

"Anya???? Demons??? Wednesday??? It's Saturday!]

She grinned, and dug her elbow into his side, which was conveniently 
close, since he still had her wrapped in a loose hug.

"Gotcha! Woo-hoo. Go me! No ass-biting required." Humour. From Anya. 
Oh yeah, definite stroke evidence. Xander smiled.

"Harris! I'm all for customer service, but we don't offer that kind 
of service in FoodMart, last time I checked." The weekend manager, 
Jack Dunphy, stood at the end of the aisle, a scowl on his face.

Xander disengaged locking mechanisms and pulled away from Anya. "So, 
ma'am, you were looking for Aunt Millie's Potato Bread? We're out of 
it, but we do have the Oatmeal Bread on the second shelf there."

Dunphy gave him a "who do you think you're fooling?" look, but moved 
on past. [Hey-- I'm off the clock. If I want to cuddle with my ex-
girlfriend in Aisle Two, what business is it of yours? Well, aside 
from the obvious thing about apparent foreplay in a public place...]

"Actually, I was looking for those Jif Smooth Sensations flavoured 
peanut butters. And Cordelia said hi, and asked for Tara's number, 
since Willow wasn't home. " Anya informed him, suddenly purposeful. 
She reached across to the condiment side of the aisle, and pulled 
down a jar of brown peanut butter, eyeing it thoughtfully.

"Umm, Anya, that might be a little out of date. Not that we'd 
ever ...er...*forget* to take stock off the shelves in time around 
here.." Xander commented, looking at the jar.

"Nope. It's supposed to be this colour. It's chocolate." She dropped 
the plastic jar into her cart.

"Chocolate? They make chocolate peanut butter, and no one told me?" 
Xander swooped three of the little jars into his cart. The two great 
forces of the universe, united in one creamy potion....A Bad Xander 
Thought (tm) ran through his head: [What can you do with spreadable 
chocolate? Yeah, I'm definitely having a stroke. I can't feel my 
brain.]

Anya looked down at his cart, and the most puzzled look he'd ever 
seen crossed her face. What? He hadn't exactly been paying attention 
to what he'd been pulling off the shelves, but surely it wasn't full 
of tampons and Midol or something? He was reasonably sure he hadn't 
been down *that* aisle...

"Xander," she finally asked, "Why do you have six boxes of Count 
Chocula in your cart?"