All About Spike - Print Version
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Spike looked up from his usual location, shoved between a file
cabinet and a packing crate, and saw her. Oh no, what was she doing
here? Come to chastise him for yet another of his crimes? Ah, well,
it was no more than he deserved, after all. He pulled his knees up
to his chin and rested his forehead there.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I disgraced the girl. Sullied her name.
Sorry, sorry, sorry."
"Spike?" She sat down cross legged in front of him and jabbed him in
the shoulder with her index finger. "Hey, Spike? Could you try not
to be crazy for a moment? Because I could really use someone to talk
to, and I'm unable to discern the meaning of your ramblings."
Spike raised his head slowly, and smiled. "Hello, Anyanka."
She smiled back. "That's better. But it's just Anya, now," she
sighed. "I've been fired."
He blinked. "Fired?" Spike considered her more closely. "You're
human," he said. She nodded. "You seem sad. You don't want to be
She shrugged. "I guess so. I'm having a lot of trouble figuring
that out. That's why I came to talk to you."
"Me?" he asked. "Why me? Haven't you heard? I'm insane."
"Oh, yes, everyone knows that. But, you know, when we talked before,
with all the liquor? Well, before the intercourse occurred, you were
very understanding. You made me feel better. So I was hoping we
could have another conversation like that, and you could make me feel
better. Without the liquor this time. Or the intercourse."
Spike let out an amused little snort, then looked up at the ceiling.
He shook his head sadly. "I'm different now."
"That's o.k.," she answered, "so am I."
"I never found out who *I* was. I always lived to please someone
else. A man, a cause...tic tac?" Anya shook out a couple of mints
into Spike's hand.
"I know what you mean, pet," he said. "I got myself turned because
three words from a woman destroyed me. And then, it was all about
proving myself. To Angelus, to Dru. That's why I started going
after slayers, you know. It was all about being the Big Bad. Till
Buffy, that is."
"Yeah," she sighed. "Same with me. I wanted nothing more than to
get back to being a vengeance demon until I fell in love with
Xander. Now everything's changed. And for what? I don't have him,
I don't have my career. What's to become of me now?"
"You lost your taste for the vengeance though, didn't you pet?"
Anya shuddered. "It made me sick. I couldn't live with myself. I
never felt that way doing vengeance before."
Spike nodded. "Do tell, pet. Never felt an ounce of remorse for
anything I did. And then I hurt Buffy and I..."
"You felt so bad you went and got a soul," she said. He just nodded
and studied the floor. "I can still see it, you know," she said
softly. "You have a beautiful soul, Spike."
He looked up shyly. "You can't see my soul. You're not a demon anymore."
"I'm not," she smiled. "but I can see it in your eyes." He shook
his head, denying her words. "Hey!" she said, shaking a finger at
him, "don't argue with me. I'm forthright, remember?"
He laughed. "I remember, pet. And you remember that you're much
more than someone's girlfriend or employee. You're a hell of a
Anya blushed and stood up, brushing off her pants. "I'm going to
leave now, because I'm afraid that inappropriate touching may not be
far off, even without the liquor."
Spike looked startled. "I would never!"
"Not you, me," she explained, turning to leave. "And Spike?"
"You've got to get out of this basement."