Disclaimers: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural. Rights remain with Whedon and Kripke (I think…maybe Gamble, too?).

Warnings: Season 6 Supernatural Spoilers and, obviously, set after some time after the Buffy finale. A little potty mouth-I mean, after self-preservation, Anya has two things on the mind, and one of them is really dirty.

A/N: This is a series of one-shots about the life and of Anya in the Supernatural verse and her relationship with one Sam Winchester. I'm posting them under the series title, so if want to keep up with them, you can simply add it to Story Alert instead of having to use Author Alert.

"One Ticket to Purgatory"

Her resurrection was, frankly, a little boring.

Crawl up from the abyss after what felt like years spent in a land of monsters, dodge the Queen Bitch of Evil and her horde of dragons, and immediately get lost. In that order. It took a few days of wandering aimlessly for Anya to figure out that she was no longer in her home dimension. Which made a certain kind of sense since a.) she was dead in her world and b.) the First Evil couldn't possess some poor virgin on her plane of existence.

This afterlife thing was turning out to be a royal pain in her ass.

While it appeared this dimension still used the same currency as her own (and Anya had went into the greatest battle of her life with a wad of cash in her pocket), there were rules that were definitely different here. D'Hoffryn had taught her a great deal about dimensional magical laws, and she began to pick up on this world's distinct variations. For example, salt? Not just for seasoning here.

And it was while being re-educated on the supernatural laws of the realm that she met them.

Oh, sure, all sweaty and hot looking while they were decapitating the vampire trying to eat her, and then someone, namely a cowardly little blood sucker trying to save its own hide, 'may' have brought up the little 'came from purgatory's emergency exit' thing. Which led to Anya's current predicament. Sweaty and hot looking demon hunters were suddenly eying a certain ex-demon with their weapons raised.

It was the tall one who caught her eye. Well, actually, it was the tall one's weapon, because she'd felt something like that before. The blade was practically radiating with power, and it reminded her of Buffy's oh-so-special scythe.

Anya couldn't help but be somewhat thankful that, this time, she'd at least have the benefit of a really hunky murderer as opposed to mutated blind monk wanna-be working for the momma of all baddies.

Her inability to keep that thought to herself ended up saving her life.

As it turned out, the hunters were far more interested in hearing more about said-momma than offing a little ex-demon.

"So, you're a demon?" Dean repeated, still confused by the creature currently invading his space.

Anya groaned, throwing herself down onto one of the two double beds and staring up at the pocked ceiling. This was turning out to be a very long night.

"No. I'm not. I was a demon. Was." When he grunted in doubt, she swung her arms up, slapping the pillow on either side of her head. "I'm obviously not a demon, genius, because I passed all your little tests, remember? I'm an ex-demon. Ex. As in no longer."

Sam raised a hand to stop her, the gesture looking far more relaxed than his older brother's tense stance. He leaned forward in his chair, his brow raised. "Wait, so you're saying you lost your demonic essence completely? You became fully human again? And you stayed in the same body the whole time? When you told us you were an ex-demon, we assumed you meant you'd…umm…seen the light or something. Not that you were actually... human." Sam shot his brother a look to stop Dean from blurting "and we all know how our last demon buddy turned out."

Dean rolled his eyes, but kept quiet.

"That's why Dean kinda freaked out when you crossed into the room without trouble," Sam finished.

Anya propped herself up on her elbows. "So, you were basically inviting me back to your place in an attempt to trap me in one of those silly little circle things?" She blew a curl out of her eyes and frowned. "And here I was expecting meaningless post-battle sex. This is officially a much suckier use of my time."

Dean choked on his chuckle, as if he'd tried to stop it a moment too late. And Sam, Sam's face, took on a red hue that it hadn't used in a while.

"Umm," he swallowed, "no?" He took a breath, collecting himself. "Could we go back to the being human part? How did that happen?"

"Well, actually, it was more like I started out human, then was offered a demonic deal, then was forced to become human again, then I was dumped at the alter, so I became a demon again, then I felt really bad, and ended up human again. Then I died." Anya paused to catch her breath, then seeming to realize she'd left something out, "Now I'm human again. Not sure how that happened exactly."

The men were quiet a moment. Then Dean did a double-take. "Say again?"

"Wow, that's…" Sam shook his head. "That's…"

"With a little more description this time," Dean added.

Anya wasn't going to point out that the response made no sense. "Yes, sure, because I have nothing else to do." She'd meant it as sarcasm, but the truth of it slapped her across the face. Her frown deepened. "But I'm hungry, so could we maybe could talk over food-oh, and of course, you'll be paying since you did manipulate me into coming back like the giant, studly teases you obviously are, and I should get something satisfying in return."

"But… We didn't even…" Sam looked to his brother for help and received none. "I mean, we tried to trap you, sure, but…"

Anya sighed.

Anya decided this was Xander Harris's fault when it came down to it, but the guys had, still wearing extremely confused expressions, dismissed the idea.

They came to a rather simple answer.

When you spent centuries causing the deaths of hundreds as a demon and then died a human trying to help save the world, the universe had no idea where to put you. Purgatory, since it was currently opened wide in her universe-Anya was going to have a talk with the guys who'd named that a Hellmouth if she ever met them-had been the only solution. And since she'd slid into the hole with a body and soul, she'd crawled back out of it with those as well.

It was kind of half-assed as far as explanations went, but she went with it.

Dean and Sam thought this guy named Castiel might be able to provide a better answer next time they were in touch. Anya was fairly certain meeting an angel wasn't going to be pleasant and said as much.

The ex-demon noted that they had bigger fish to fry. Virgin-wearing fish who liked to throw monster parties everywhere she went.

The guys agreed.

As it turned out, this dimension was proving to be quite a bit like the home she remembered. Monsters, demons, impending and averted apocalypses. Then, of course, there were the warriors who fought it all.

Anya had never considered herself a warrior. Sure, her last few years in Sunnydale, she'd changed as a person. She'd quit running from evil. Just because she was in a dainty body instead of a demonically fueled one didn't mean she was without her own strengths, right? Granted, that sort of thinking had led to her untimely demise.

There was another thing the two dimensions shared. Apparently, people refused to stay in the ground, as she'd learned from the Winchesters. In fact, she'd learned quite a bit from the men.




"Oh, I see, you'd rather me be the damsel in distress you have to rescue at every turn. I see how it is."

"That's not…"

"Sure, I suppose it helps you feel like more of a man to leave a poor woman defenseless against the forces of darkness."


That had been the short lived argument that had taken place before the Winchesters had decided to let her play with their toys, mainly their guns.

Anya wasn't sure how it happened, or when exactly it happened, but somehow she ended up riding in their beloved Impala with them, traveling to a haunting, the wind running fingers through her golden waves. There was something about them, about the way they moved, the way they looked at each other. Cared for each other… They were a family. Anya missed her family. Not the one she was born with, not for centuries now, but the other one. The one she'd made. The one who'd made her.

Watching the young men laugh, bicker, strategize, Anya had known from the get-go they were preparing for a battle in a war they'd been fighting for years. And she realized following a group of humans was probably going to, once more, be her downfall.

Who knew, though, maybe she'd come back again. Death wasn't set in stone.

Dean cranked up the music, leaving Anya to scowl. Sam's eyes rose to meet hers in the rear-view mirror. The gaze was laughing at her. But there was more than humor in his smiling eyes. It was something she recognized. Dean saw it too, and Anya was fairly sure that was the reason he'd let the woman stay with them. As an unspoken favor to his little brother.

Sam the tall one. Anya contemplated the idea. His height presented an interesting sexual challenge. Not a particularly new challenge for her, but an interesting one nevertheless. Anya smiled back at him, knowing without seeing that he'd wet his bottom lip the moment he'd noticed the expression.

Anya decided it was okay to miss her family. And it was okay to make a new one, too.

"So, who's going to teach me how to play pool?"