And Then There Were Three
Chapter Eight: Night Out
Anya twirls around, but I'm not looking at her. I'm trying to look under her arm at the bleedin' telly while she prances in front of it. Tara doesn't look up either; she's bent over the table, scribbling away.
"Well?" Anya demands.
"Well, you're blocking the bloody telly!" I shout.
"No need to be rude," she answers. "Just tell me what you think."
She puts her hands on her hips as I study her. Have to admit the girl looks knockout. Tight fitting black pants and a sparkly red top. Remember I said I like red and black?
"You look all right," I tell her non-commitedly.
"I'm going to the Bronze," she says enthusiastically.
"Why?" Tara asks, glancing up briefly.
"To partake of alcoholic beverages, eat fatty foods knowing full well I risk heart disease and an early, painful death. I shall then move on to dancing energetically to dangerously loud and obnoxious modern music and return in the early hours of the morning and refuse to say where I've been."
"You've been to the Bronze," I point out. "You just told us."
"Oh," she looks crestfallen. "Well, I'll just have to scrap that last bit. Have a nice time alone here in the apartment on a Saturday night."
"Hang on," I grab my duster and shrug it on. "I'll come."
"Why?"
"Don't want any nasties taking a bite outta ya, do we? And what if Xander's there?"
"Spike…" Tara says, her voice is a warning.
"What?" I glance at her and she raises her eyebrows at me. "Oh, sorry, Anya, pet."
"That's ok. If Xander is there, I shall ignore him. In my world, he is little more than a bug."
"Your world?" Tara looks amused.
"Yes," Anya frowns. "My world includes the shop, this place and you guys," she studies us for a second. "Maybe I should broaden my horizons?"
"Thanks. And I was just starting to like you," I huff.
Anya cocks her head to the side and studies me.
"You like me?" she asks.
I back pedal, warding her off with my hands. She's been jumpy ever since we got her back here. Every little thing Tara or I say that indicates we like her and like having her around makes her jump on us. And I do mean jump. Guess she's a little insecure, after being left at the altar and all, that damages you. Not that I'd know or anything, I'm just using that perceptiveness Tara said I had the other day.
"Yeah," I tell Anya warily. "You're not bad," her eyes well up and she gives me a molten chocolate smile as she steps toward me. "Don't hug me," I order. "I'm evil. Grrr, nasty. Don't wanna provoke me into killing you."
Tara snorts with laughter. Being blessed with fantabulous hearing means I heard her mutter "evil!" like someone – a talking puppy for instance – had said they're evil. Makes a man feel… Well, less manly.
"Hey!" I protest. "I'm evil. Only thing standing between you two and a painful death is this bloody chip. When I get it out, I'm gonna kill everyone," the two of them raise their eyebrows. "Oh all right," I relent. "Except you two. And Bit."
"That's less evil," Anya (un)helpfully points out.
Tara glances back down at her paper and scribbles what must have been the last word or two 'cause she looks up and grins.
"Finished!" she announces.
"'Bout bleedin' time," I grumble.
"Yay!" Anya says. "You can come out with us. But, you know, change first. You look cheap, it might reflect on me."
"Cheap?" Tara asked, a hint of her old self – the self I knew before I turned up at her apartment – creep into her voice.
"Oh, I don't mean whore cheap," Anya explains. "You'd never wear anything like that. I just meant your clothing looks inexpensive."
Tara looks down at her blue sweater and black pants.
"I think she looks nice," I say.
"Oh, that's sweet," Anya smiles. "But she's gay."
There's an uncomfortable silence and Anya beams while Tara and I shuffle uncomfortably. Well, I shuffle; she just grabs her things and bundles them into her arms.
"I'll go change," she mutters as she rushes past us.
"Don't be too long!" Anya calls cheerfully.
"God, Anya," I mutter.
"What?" she asks innocently.
"I know full soddin' well that the girl's gay," I hiss. "I was paying her a compliment, like when I said you looked fine in your get up," I wave my hand at her clothes.
"So you can comment on people of the opposite sex's appearance and it isn't flirting?" she asks.
"Yes," I answer.
"Oh," she says. "Then I think you are very good looking with beautiful eyes, cheekbones to die for and you smell really good. Oh, and your hair looks nice now you've let it curl a little."
I'm floored by her compliments and my hand goes up to pat self consciously at my hair. Tara appears quietly. I glance at her and try hard not to do a double-take; she wearing a dark red bodice thingy over burgandy pants. Her hair's loose and floating around her face.
"You look… different," I almost stutter – wanker.
Anya nudges Tara and smiles in what I guess she thinks is a reassuring manner.
"That was a non flirtatious compliment," she informs her. "He doesn't fancy you and he knows full well you're gay."
Glad we'd cleared that one up. Thanks, Anyanka.
So, we went to the Bronze and of course we ran into the Scoobies. Walking in like they owned the bloody place. Buffy in the middle with Xander and Willow on either side. Felt a bit left out, I can tell you, when they noticed us. Xander and Willow looked all happy to see their respective exes, but Buffy clocked me and curled her lip. Yeah? Well, fuck you too, Slayer.
"Tara," Willow said as she approached.
"W-Willow," she stutters.
Fun evening this is turning out to be.
"Hey, Ahn," Harris says, waving like the loser he is.
"My name is Anya," she tells him coldly without looking at him. Go, Anya.
"Oh," he says and just stands there like a bleedin' lemon, only, y'know, not bleeding.
Buffy folds her arms and glares at me and Willow and Tara just glance at each other.
"Want something?" I ask. "Lemme guess, the world's gonna end and you want our help? 'Cause you lot sure as hell wouldn't come near us for anything else."
"Listen, bleach boy," Xander says, rounding on me. "I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm changing the rules. Anya, want to dance?"
"Yes," she says, standing up. "But not with you."
Tara glances quickly at me and gets up.
"I'd better g-go with her," she says and eases past Willow.
"Ok," Willow says too brightly.
They stand there awkwardly and I take a gulp of my beer.
"You're making the place look untidy," I say.
"You're making it worse," Xander snaps.
"Bugger. Off," I tell him slowly. "You don't want my company, I don't want yours."
Xander clenches his fists.
"Just give me a reason, Spike," he hisses. "Just give me a reason to ram a tree through your chest."
"You already got one," I tell him, glancing over his shoulder at Anya. "You just ain't man enough to do it."
He glares at me and then whirls around, stalking off.
"He's just a little cranky," Willow says. Wow, cushioning my feelings? I'm touched, Red; really. "Can I ask you something?"
Buffy stares at Willow in surprise.
"I'm getting a table," she says.
"Oh, ok, Buffy. I'll be over in a minute," Willow says.
"What is it then, Red?" I ask.
"Tara," she states. "Is she all right?"
"She's fine, far as I can tell," I shrug.
"You and Anya, you're taking care of her?"
"Last time I looked, she was fully grown, can take care of herself, I'd wager," I tilt my head to the side and study her. "But I've not hurt her delicate feelings if that's what you're after."
She nods and stands up. I wait for her to leave, but she shows no sign of leaving.
"Spike," suddenly she sounds stern, not like she did two seconds ago. Iif you hurt one hair on her head, I'll take you apart."
"And I wonder what she'd do to you if you did that, Red," I sneer.
Tara's got her principles; Willow doesn't seem to have any. Which is probably why I have no doubt whatsoever that she would follow through with her threat, despite her giving up magic and all. She goes in much the same way Harris did, glaring and stalking. I sip my beer and watch Tara and Anya dance. They throw nervous glances towards the Scoobies but after a little while they let go. Might go join 'em in a –
"Just what do you think you're doing?"
"And I was hoping for a quiet evening."
"Then you should've avoided this place at all costs," Buffy answers, sliding into the seat opposite me.
"Buffy," I start. "We were getting on - "
"If you mean the sex, that was just - "
"I didn't mean the sex," I interject. "I meant that night I did the patrol for you and the night before, we had a civilised conversation. I get that it's over, I've had it literally drummed into me, but all I'm asking for is a little respect."
"Respect?" she scoffs. "Because a brutal killer who has an unhealthy obsession with me and who is currently living with friends of mine for some obscure reason, deserves respect."
"Friends?" I ask. "Tara and Anya are your friends? Not from where I'm standing. Tell me, Slayer, since Willow and Tara and Xander and Anya broke up, have you once invited them to a meeting, or a group outing like you had tonight? No, didn't think so. But you did get Tara to look after Dawn for you, and you don't seem to mind Anya running the shop, 'cause I bet that annoyed you. Having to take on responsibility of the shop, that must of got right up your nose. But now Anya's back, that's not your problem. What you don't seem to realise is that your pals, Red and Harris, were the ones who destroyed their relationships, Anya and Tara were the victims, but you didn't side with them. You really are a piece of work," she looks stunned. I can tell she's angry, but she doesn't seem to have a witty retort. Not like her. Might as well fill the silence. "And as for the unhealthy obsession with you? It's well on it's way to being cured. I think you'll be in for a nasty shock when you come a-knocking on my door for some loving and find I don't play by those rules anymore."
"I would never knock on you door," she sneers, standing up and looking down that pretty nose of hers. "Never. And civil? I was only civil to you because I couldn't stomach your face when I stepped on that inflated ego of yours. That… thing we had? Biggest mistake I ever made. You're getting over me? I never had to get over you. There was nothing to get over."
And she leaves. Sneers one last time then walks away. Ok, that hurt. Glad I got the first punch in though, figuratively speaking of course.
"Hey, Spike," Anya slides into the seat to my left while Tara takes the seat to my right.
"I saw you talking to Willow," Tara said quietly.
"Yeah, warned me not to hurt you. Said she'd take me apart," I try to sound casual and wonder if I do.
"What did Xander say?" Anya asks.
"That he'd stake me."
"That's nothing new," Anya shrugs unconcerned.
"What did Buffy say?" Tara asks.
"Dunno what game I'm playing, I have an unhealthy obsession with her, I'm up to something, I'm beneath her, she'd never come to me for sex again. The usual and we all know what follows."
"A punch up, then mutual and plentiful orgasms?" Anya offers, sipping her drink.
"Give the girl a medal."
"I think I want to go home now," Tara whispers, looking over at Willow who's blatantly staring at us along with Xander. Buffy's wittering on about something, but even she's not daft enough to think they're actually listening to her.
"You don't have to go 'cause of her, Glinda," I tell her. "You've as much right to be here as them. All three of us do."
"I know," she answers. "But I'm tired and I want to have a long shower before I go to bed. I think I deserve it after spending all day on that paper."
"Ok, precious," I gulp back the last of my beer, then stand up. "Coming, Anyanka?"
"I guess, Peroxide Pest," she grins.
"Little below the belt," I say. "Even for you."
They laugh and I drape my arms around them, just for show, nothing else to it. Even at this distance, I can feel the anger and jealously rolling off Buffy, Xander and Willow. See how they like it.