Love's Fools
"…so then this girl says "real" for you"
"Right, but getting back to Xander-"
Anya was mumbling about sodding Xander Harris. She was different; a vengeance demon once more. He could smell it but he wasn't about to let her use him to wreak vengeance on Harris. He knew Buffy wouldn't like it. Stupid bint. She made him feel vulnerable –more than he had in a century. William the ponce overrode the demon where the slayer was concerned. Speaking of the slayer, he knew this obsession with hurting Harris wasn't going to sit well with Buffy.
"I know what you're doing, luv. I reckon you'd be biting more off than you could chew though."
She gave him an exaggerated innocent look. "What do you mean?"
He raised a brow. "You're looking for someone to wish Harris a bad case of syphilis or something."
Anya eyed him grumpily. "I think I deserve some form of revenge on that man. I spend centuries fulfilling the wishes of scorned women but I can't even punish Xander."
She was about to burst into tears. He turned away. He had never been good with tearful women.
"Buffy wouldn't let you. You know she wouldn't."
Anya sighed deeply. "I hate you for being right."
The vampire snorted bitterly. "Join the fanclub. The Slayer's the president."
He starred angrily at the table. Anya patted him awkwardly on the arm and he downed the contents of the glass.
"Thank you for talking sense into me," she said softly when he finally looked up.
He nodded. "You're welcome," he said gruffly.
She gave him a big smile. "Now, Spike, I'm going to help you and help me at the same time."
That grabbed his attention. "How?"
"An anti-love spell!" She gave him a proud smile. "I'm going to put Xander out of my mind and you are going to take Buffy out of yours."
He was unsure about this. He hated magic. There were always consequences. It took only a few moments before he remembered that Anya had actually said Buffy and his look of apphrehension turned incredulous.
"Buffy? I never said Buffy."
Anya rolled her eyes. "You don't do subtle, Spike." He was about to retort "Like the pot calling the kettle black" but he held his tongue. She was offering him a way out after all.
"I'm in," he declared.
A few hours later, he was in his crypt with the ingredients for the spell laid out just so and the spell written in Anya's slanting script in his hand. He needed just one more essential item. He required something from Buffy herself –like a hair or something. Perhaps the Slayer would be out patrolling by now. He left his crypt behind and took off into the night. It wasn't long before he caught a whiff of her. She was fighting a group of vampires. She truly was poetry in motion. She caught sight of him from the corner of her eye. "Go away, Spike!"
"No, I think I'll join you." He jumped into the fray, making sure to grab a rib of her hair as he did so.
He dusted the closest vamp with the other hand while she fired a kick at the other two.
"Hey, what did you do that for?" She glared at him and particularly enjoyed disposing of another one. "Would you like me to stake you too," she said menacingly.
"Yes, please," he replied, as he grabbed hold of the last struggling vampire for Buffy to finish him off.
"I want you to stay away from me," she said quietly and she walked away.
He felt into his pocket and touched the hair. Sod it! He couldn't do it. Anti-love spell wasn't going to work for William the Bloody. He took the scrap of paper from his other pocket and tore it into pieces.
"I'm too broken to fix."