Author's Note:
Thank you all for your responses. When you read this part, remember that in my little world Will and Tara are still together, Giles is gone, and Anya and Xander are still all nervous about their wedding. Eh, but not for long.
Part Three:
Willow was scrambling to defend herself. "Look, Tara, sweetie, I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. I'd never hurt you, you know that." She gulped. It wasn't working. "I'm really, really sorry."
Tara's blank expression didn't change; her even tone never wavered. "Willow, you altered my memories, screwed with my mind. I'm- I'm sorry, but I can't stay. Not after this." Without meeting Willow's pleading gaze, she pulled herself slowly to her feet and moved to the bedside drawers, pulling out clothes. She was very proud of herself- she didn't start crying until she heard Willow dart into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her.
***
Across town, Anya and Xander's fight was completely different. Xander kept hoping that sooner or later it would be over and they could move on to the make-up sex, but for once Anya's libido wasn't cooperating.
"But *why* can't I meet them?"
God, her voice was beginning to grate on him. Xander closed his eyes against the brewing headache. "Because, Anya, they're my parents. I can't stand them and I don't want them at my wedding. So there is absolutely no point in introducing you to them, okay? You listening yet?" Tired of the argument, he headed into the bedroom. Maybe the sight of their bed would get her mind working in more... productive directions.
"No."
"What?"
"No, it's not okay." Anya squared her slim shoulders. "Look, Xander, I love you. And you say you love me. As I understand it, part of love means wanting to understand the other person." She moved in front of him, her eyes searching his. "I really want to understand you, Xander, and I think that meeting your family will help me do that. I'd introduce you to my family, but they've been dead for a thousand years. So, please, let me share yours. Please?"
Xander ignored the plea in her eyes. "I said no, Anya," he said firmly. "And I don't plan on discussing it any further." In the time-honored tradition of all males, he left the room just as the argument was getting somewhere. Anya never stayed angry for long, he reasoned as he stomped into the bathroom. She just needed a bit of time to cool off. He really believed this line of reasoning, which is why he was so surprised to discover Anya, and all of her things, long gone when he opened the bathroom door.
***
Tara was still weeping. She'd ordered a cup of tea when she got to the Bronze, but the untouched cup sat cooling in front of her. Her tears were finally slowing down, though, which is what allowed her to notice Anya stumbling toward the bar, lugging an enormous duffle bag and sobbing like a baby. "Anya?" Tara asked hesitantly. "Can I- can I help?" They weren't close, but Anya was (had been?) a fellow Scooby.
Taking one look at Tara's nervous, sympathetic face, Anya dropped her bag and wailed, "Tara, teach me to be a lesbian!"
Two hours later, they had shared their current love troubles, their life stories (Anya gave the abridged version) and two and a half bottles of wine. The bouncers at the Bronze had wisely stayed out of their way, allowing the two young women to wallow in peace. The wallowing was going along swimmingly when practical considerations reared their ugly heads.
"Crap," Tara realized, blinking her tear-filled eyes. "Where am I gonna stay?"
"I was just gonna crash on the floor at the shop. You can crash with me, if you want," Anya offered, blowing her nose on a napkin.
"Thanks," Tara replied, patting her new friend on the hand. "But I really want to stay out of the Scoobies' way for a while, and I don't think sleeping at the shop will help me do that."
"Damn," Anya scowled. "Me, too. I mean, if I actually closed the shop when the stupid sign says I'm supposed to, then keeping them out shouldn't be too hard, but if I'm living there I'll- I'll- I'll never get over Xander!"
"Why, hello, ladies," came an unusually friendly voice from over Tara's shoulder, immediately followed by a pale masculine hand sneaking toward their wine bottle. Tara and Anya jerked red-eyed faces up to stare at him and Spike froze in mid-steal. "What happened? Who's hurt?"
"Our hearts are broken," Anya solemnly informed Spike, her eyes beginning to swim yet again. "I think, anyway. I've never been on this end of a broken heart before."
The two women flung their arms around one another, fresh tears coursing down their cheeks.
Christ Jesus, thought Spike, staring in horror at the two weeping women. He couldn't knick the silly bints' alcohol if they were all in the same miserable boat. He'd have to do the supportive thing instead. Sighing deeply, he dropped into the third chair at the table and arranged himself for a long and painful evening. "Alright, then. Tell us all about it."
Anya and Tara, still sniffing, handed him the nearly full bottle of wine and settled down to share.
***
Three hours later, they were still at it. The cautious bouncers had long since gone home and they were all feeling, if not better, at least considerably less tense.
"Oi, witch," Spike drawled, "Could you toss over the last bit of wine?"
"Sure," Tara handed him the bottle. "So." She tried to focus. "I still didn't figure out where I was gonna stay."
Anya squinted. "Uh, we could-" what was the word? "Rent! Rent a place. But that will take a while. And money."
Spike just stared sadly into the empty bottle. Prob'ly the last bottle he'd see for some time. Then the girls' conversation began to filter through.
And he had a Brilliant Idea.
Sitting up abruptly, Spike waved his hands at the young women across from him. "I have a room to let. Cheap, too."
Anya patted his hand. "That's very sweet, Spike, but if I end up sleeping in the graveyard, I'm certainly not paying you to do it. I'll just steal a crypt for my very own."
"No, no, I have a room. A real room. I got a flat. We could share, divvy it up."
Anya stared. "How much?"
Spike tried to think like a shrewd businessman. How much would he need for beer? Didn't want to price himself out of the market. "Eh, a hundred." Anya's eyes lit up- damn. "Per person." They were still lit up. Double damn.
"We'll take it," the ex-vengeance demon said quickly.
"Uh," Tara said quietly, a little flushed, "I don't have any money. But thanks, both of you. I'll probably just move back into the dorms."
Anya cut her off. "You can work at the shop. You're the most useful of the Scoobies, anyway. I'll pay you, and then you can pay Spike."
Tara's mouth curved up, just a little. "Th-thanks, Anya. I'd like that."
"Great," Spike announced, lurching to his feet. "Then let's go see the place. You lot can pay up front." The liquor store was closed, sadly, but come sunset he'd be back in alcoholic clover! And he'd have roommates, he realized suddenly. What would that be like? Well, the witch and the demon-girl weren't a bad pair, he reasoned. It couldn't be that terrible.
Hey, maybe they'd set up the flat!
TBC
Thank you all for your responses. When you read this part, remember that in my little world Will and Tara are still together, Giles is gone, and Anya and Xander are still all nervous about their wedding. Eh, but not for long.
Part Three:
Willow was scrambling to defend herself. "Look, Tara, sweetie, I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. I'd never hurt you, you know that." She gulped. It wasn't working. "I'm really, really sorry."
Tara's blank expression didn't change; her even tone never wavered. "Willow, you altered my memories, screwed with my mind. I'm- I'm sorry, but I can't stay. Not after this." Without meeting Willow's pleading gaze, she pulled herself slowly to her feet and moved to the bedside drawers, pulling out clothes. She was very proud of herself- she didn't start crying until she heard Willow dart into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her.
***
Across town, Anya and Xander's fight was completely different. Xander kept hoping that sooner or later it would be over and they could move on to the make-up sex, but for once Anya's libido wasn't cooperating.
"But *why* can't I meet them?"
God, her voice was beginning to grate on him. Xander closed his eyes against the brewing headache. "Because, Anya, they're my parents. I can't stand them and I don't want them at my wedding. So there is absolutely no point in introducing you to them, okay? You listening yet?" Tired of the argument, he headed into the bedroom. Maybe the sight of their bed would get her mind working in more... productive directions.
"No."
"What?"
"No, it's not okay." Anya squared her slim shoulders. "Look, Xander, I love you. And you say you love me. As I understand it, part of love means wanting to understand the other person." She moved in front of him, her eyes searching his. "I really want to understand you, Xander, and I think that meeting your family will help me do that. I'd introduce you to my family, but they've been dead for a thousand years. So, please, let me share yours. Please?"
Xander ignored the plea in her eyes. "I said no, Anya," he said firmly. "And I don't plan on discussing it any further." In the time-honored tradition of all males, he left the room just as the argument was getting somewhere. Anya never stayed angry for long, he reasoned as he stomped into the bathroom. She just needed a bit of time to cool off. He really believed this line of reasoning, which is why he was so surprised to discover Anya, and all of her things, long gone when he opened the bathroom door.
***
Tara was still weeping. She'd ordered a cup of tea when she got to the Bronze, but the untouched cup sat cooling in front of her. Her tears were finally slowing down, though, which is what allowed her to notice Anya stumbling toward the bar, lugging an enormous duffle bag and sobbing like a baby. "Anya?" Tara asked hesitantly. "Can I- can I help?" They weren't close, but Anya was (had been?) a fellow Scooby.
Taking one look at Tara's nervous, sympathetic face, Anya dropped her bag and wailed, "Tara, teach me to be a lesbian!"
Two hours later, they had shared their current love troubles, their life stories (Anya gave the abridged version) and two and a half bottles of wine. The bouncers at the Bronze had wisely stayed out of their way, allowing the two young women to wallow in peace. The wallowing was going along swimmingly when practical considerations reared their ugly heads.
"Crap," Tara realized, blinking her tear-filled eyes. "Where am I gonna stay?"
"I was just gonna crash on the floor at the shop. You can crash with me, if you want," Anya offered, blowing her nose on a napkin.
"Thanks," Tara replied, patting her new friend on the hand. "But I really want to stay out of the Scoobies' way for a while, and I don't think sleeping at the shop will help me do that."
"Damn," Anya scowled. "Me, too. I mean, if I actually closed the shop when the stupid sign says I'm supposed to, then keeping them out shouldn't be too hard, but if I'm living there I'll- I'll- I'll never get over Xander!"
"Why, hello, ladies," came an unusually friendly voice from over Tara's shoulder, immediately followed by a pale masculine hand sneaking toward their wine bottle. Tara and Anya jerked red-eyed faces up to stare at him and Spike froze in mid-steal. "What happened? Who's hurt?"
"Our hearts are broken," Anya solemnly informed Spike, her eyes beginning to swim yet again. "I think, anyway. I've never been on this end of a broken heart before."
The two women flung their arms around one another, fresh tears coursing down their cheeks.
Christ Jesus, thought Spike, staring in horror at the two weeping women. He couldn't knick the silly bints' alcohol if they were all in the same miserable boat. He'd have to do the supportive thing instead. Sighing deeply, he dropped into the third chair at the table and arranged himself for a long and painful evening. "Alright, then. Tell us all about it."
Anya and Tara, still sniffing, handed him the nearly full bottle of wine and settled down to share.
***
Three hours later, they were still at it. The cautious bouncers had long since gone home and they were all feeling, if not better, at least considerably less tense.
"Oi, witch," Spike drawled, "Could you toss over the last bit of wine?"
"Sure," Tara handed him the bottle. "So." She tried to focus. "I still didn't figure out where I was gonna stay."
Anya squinted. "Uh, we could-" what was the word? "Rent! Rent a place. But that will take a while. And money."
Spike just stared sadly into the empty bottle. Prob'ly the last bottle he'd see for some time. Then the girls' conversation began to filter through.
And he had a Brilliant Idea.
Sitting up abruptly, Spike waved his hands at the young women across from him. "I have a room to let. Cheap, too."
Anya patted his hand. "That's very sweet, Spike, but if I end up sleeping in the graveyard, I'm certainly not paying you to do it. I'll just steal a crypt for my very own."
"No, no, I have a room. A real room. I got a flat. We could share, divvy it up."
Anya stared. "How much?"
Spike tried to think like a shrewd businessman. How much would he need for beer? Didn't want to price himself out of the market. "Eh, a hundred." Anya's eyes lit up- damn. "Per person." They were still lit up. Double damn.
"We'll take it," the ex-vengeance demon said quickly.
"Uh," Tara said quietly, a little flushed, "I don't have any money. But thanks, both of you. I'll probably just move back into the dorms."
Anya cut her off. "You can work at the shop. You're the most useful of the Scoobies, anyway. I'll pay you, and then you can pay Spike."
Tara's mouth curved up, just a little. "Th-thanks, Anya. I'd like that."
"Great," Spike announced, lurching to his feet. "Then let's go see the place. You lot can pay up front." The liquor store was closed, sadly, but come sunset he'd be back in alcoholic clover! And he'd have roommates, he realized suddenly. What would that be like? Well, the witch and the demon-girl weren't a bad pair, he reasoned. It couldn't be that terrible.
Hey, maybe they'd set up the flat!
TBC