Two To Tango
Chapter Two: Going Downhill

"Spike, honey," Anya said, taking his hand and pulling it away from the candle display.

She would never tell him to his face, but sometimes she wished he wouldn't try to help her. Last time he had tried to help, he had created a lurid display out of the skulls, eagle feathers and jars of beetles. She shuddered to even think of it. And now he was messing around with the candle display.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you go home?" she asked.

"Now why would I wanna do that, eh?" he asked and slipped around the counter, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her to him, he pushed her hair to one side and leaned forward to whisper. "'Cause as soon as that bird over by the bookshelf's gone, I'm thinking you need to take an inventory downstairs. I thought I might help."

She knew what he meant. She wasn't stupid and, well, she had to admit that sex with Spike was fantastic at the best of times. But sex with Spike in the shop was always the best. Even when Giles had been visiting from England and had wandered down into the storeroom and caught them in the act, it had still been great.

"Sounds fun," she whispered back and glared at the customer who had been weighing two books in her hands for about five minutes. The customer quickly replaced one book and hurried to the counter.

Anya wrapped the book, aware of Spike watching her, cigarette between his lips. She leaned slightly further forward than necessary to receive the money and hand the book to the woman. As the woman struggled with her purchase and shoulder bag, she smiled at Anya and Spike.

"You two look happy," she commented.

Anya paused. No stranger had ever made that kind of off-hand comment about her and Xander and for a second, sex was the farthest thing from her mind.

"We do?" she beamed at the woman, then at Spike who chuckled and grinned back.

"Yeah. You look like a couple who could be together forever. Well, bye."

"Er, yeah," Anya nodded. "Oh, have a nice day!"

The woman smiled and left the shop. Almost immediately, Anya felt Spike's arm slip around her waist. Her breathing sped up and she turned around to crush her lips to his.

"Wait, wait," she mumbled, pulling away.

"Bloody hell, Sunshine," he groaned. "Wait for what?"

He sighed as she ran over to the door of the shop and flipped the sign over to read "Closed" and slid the bolt across. She skidded to a halt in front of him and tugged the sleeve of his jacket toward the cellar.

He grinned and followed her, his hands running all over her as they stumbled down the stairs.

"Spike?" she gasped, as he pressed her against a packing case and licked her throat.

"Mmm?" he mumbled in return.

"Do you…" she gasped again. "Think she was right?"

"Do I think who was right about what, pet?" he asked, his hands deftly undoing the buttons of her shirt.

"About us. The together forever thing."

He stopped and looked down at her. His crooked finger lifted her chin and he studied her.

"Why?"

"I was just wondering," she returned and pressed against him. She really must remember that questions like that should be kept for another time. He had a disconcerting habit of stopping in the middle of his ministrations if he thought something she said was important. He must have figured she would be more coherent if he stopped. She guessed there was logic in there somewhere.

"Why wouldn't we?" he answered.

Good enough for me, she thought and grabbed him in a hot kiss. Now try stopping…


"You look like a couple who could be together forever."

The sentence had been running through her mind all day. It made her feel warm and tingly inside. In her mind, there had never been any doubt about her and Spike being together forever, but if a perfect stranger saw it too, they must really have something.

There was just one problem though. The "forever" part. It had never really bothered her before, but now it seemed out of reach. Forever to most couples meant until they died, which was fine. But Spike wasn't going to die or age because he was a vampire. She, on the other hand, was completely human and would someday age. Their forever was until she died. She guessed she could live with that.

But there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind that asked her why a good-looking guy like Spike would want her when she was grey and wrinkly. She kept telling the voice that he would because he loved her and what they had wasn't just about sex. But the voice kept on asking her the same question.

So she made a decision.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, love?"

He looked over his shoulder at her. They were in the kitchen of their apartment. She was sitting at the table pretending to read an article on the stock market while he was chopping something at the counter. It was his night to cook and somewhere over the years, he had learned to whip up a mean salad to go with whatever he ordered for their dinner that night.

"I've been thinking…"

"'Bout what?"

"About what that woman said in the shop. Y'know, about up looking like we'd be together forever."

He inhaled deeply and turned around, folding his arms and studying her intensely.

"I knew something was up. You've been acting weird all day. What is it?" she saw, even if he didn't realise he had done it, the mask slip into place and it was the Big Bad looking at her, not Spike. She realised he was steeling himself for bad news.

"I was thinking about you and me," she started. "And I came to the logical conclusion that… Thatyoushouldturnme."

He frowned, then raised his eyebrows.

"And in English, please?"

She lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she shook her hair and looked up, her face determined.

"I think you should turn me."

His expression froze and she wondered if she had heard him.

"I said, I think you should -"

"Forget it," he snapped and turned away, attacking whatever it was with renewed vigour.

"Spike, I just…"

He dropped the knife on the counter and turned around again, his fingers curling into fists.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he hissed. "You don't have a soddin' clue what you're asking."

"Yes, I do!" she protested. "I've been around a lot longer than you and I know what I'm asking. I'm asking to be immortal so that you won't leave me."

As soon as she said it, she knew it was the wrong thing to say.

"Leave you?" he thundered. "What in the bloody hell are you talking about? I'm not Xander bleedin' Harris! I've got no intention of running off and -"

"What about when I'm old?" she yelled back. "What about when I get old and I can't do anything anymore? What about when I start to die?"

"Shut up, Anya!" he snapped. "Just shut up."

"No!" she screamed. "Don't tell me to shut up! This is important to me! I want to be with you!"

He grabbed her shoulders and stared at her intently.

"And I want to be with you," the voice was softer than before, but there was a hard edge to it. "You're not gonna die for a long time yet. And I won't leave you just 'cause you get a few grey hairs."

"I'd want you to," she answered. "I couldn't bear to have you there just hanging around because you promised to. I don't see why you can't just turn me. I don't mean now, I mean sometime in the near future."

"Do you want to know why I won't turn you?" he asked.

She nodded numbly. He let go of her shoulders and started to pace.

"Because if I turn you, it would mean killing you. I don't particularly fancy killing the woman I love, ok? And even if I did, you wouldn't be you. You'd be some evil demon, probably one that hated me because of the damned chip and runs off first chance she gets. No bloody thank you."

"I could get a soul," she pointed out. "You told me about how Willow gave Angel his soul back that time he went ka-blooey. We could get her to give me a soul."

"She's not a witch anymore, Anya. Remember? If we asked her, it might go wrong, she might go apocalyptic and blow up half of Sunnydale. It wouldn't work."

"Tara then," she said desperately.

"No, Anya," he answered. "Not Tara. She couldn't do a spell like that; it'd take too much outta her. Leave it be, Anya. We're fine as we are. It wouldn't work."

He turned back to the counter and she stared at his back, her mouth agape. He didn't want her. If he did, he wouldn't have blocked the idea. He could turn her and they could ask Tara. She'd do it, Anya knew she would. Tara wouldn't see it as bad magic; it would be for a good cause. Obviously, he didn't see it that way.

"I don't want any," she told him coldly and left the kitchen.

She grabbed her coat from the hook by the door and slammed out of the apartment with as much force as she could muster.

He listened to her go and slowly sat in her vacated chair and dropped his head into his hands.

"Bloody hell."


She sniffed and rubbed her nose furiously. Tara had gone on a course! Great timing. She refused to admit to herself that Tara had told her. Now what was she going to do? Willow had said she could come in and talk if she wanted to, but she wanted to talk to someone who understood. She could talk to Spike because he was the damned problem and Tara had gone on a course, of all things, when Anya needed her most.

Well, she'd just have to - wait a minute. There was one other person she could go to. Someone who knew her well and someone she knew didn't have a date. Who hadn't had a date in months.

She turned right at the edge of the street and headed towards Xander's.


"… So, she stopped by did she, Red? When...? An hour ago? How long did she stay there...? She didn't? Oh, bloody hell. I don't suppose she said where she was going, did she...? No, didn't think so… Right… Yeah, I know she's on a course… I guess she mighta done…. What's the number...? All right, I'll give her a call…. Thanks, Will."

Spike replaced the phone with a sigh. She wasn't at Buffy's. So where was she? Knowing her and her pride, she rather stay in some piss-end motel than come home. All because he wouldn't turn her. Honestly, women. It wasn't like he had said he didn't want her, he thought he had made the wanting her part quite clear over the last few months. What did it take?

He picked up the phone and dialled the number he had scrawled on the fluorescent yellow pad by the phone.

"Hi, Tara. It's me, Spike. Having a nice time...? Good. Listen, love, Anya hasn't called you by any chance, has she…?"


"It's not even like I was asking that much," Anya said, hiccuping slightly as she waved her wine glass around for emphasis. "In fact, I was doing him a favour!"

"Yeah, exactly," Xander nodded. "Um, how was that again?"

"If I didn't ask him to turn me, he'd be stuck with a old woman who he couldn't have wild, animalistic sex with!"

Xander winced, in spite of the drunken haze.

"Least you got someone," he muttered blearily. "I haven't had a date in ages. At least you've got someone to argue with."

She tilted her head and looked at him, trying to determine - though she was very drunk herself, damn; this was good wine - whether it was him or the drink talking. She patted his hand reassuringly.

"We're in the same boat, Xander, " she told him, then felt a surge of pain when she realised she said something Spike would say. "I mean," she searched for a phrase that she hadn't picked up from Spike. "I mean, I don't have anyone either."

"You've got Spike, Ahn. True, he's not much of a someone, but he's a someone."

She let the hated "Ahn" slide for once.

"I thought you were starting to like him?" she asked instead.

He shrugged and gulped the last of his wine and poured another glass before answering.

"Only pretended 'cause you were happy."

She smiled at him. She had almost forgotten how very sweet Xander could be.

"Really?"

"Yeah. So… You and him are over?"

"As far as I'm concerned," she answered airily. "If he doesn't want me forever then why should I waste my life on - "

Xander's lips on hers cut her off. She kissed him back in drunken defiance of Spike. It felt good, easy, familiar. His tongue was as talented as it had ever been and he certainly hadn't lost his touch through underuse. And it was clear when she crawled into his lap to get a deeper kiss that he wanted her, even if Spike didn't.

So it wasn't long before she was unbuttoning his pants and he was tugging at her shirt as they stumbled into the bedroom.


"… She didn't call you then, Tara...? Oh yeah, I know she'll turn up…. Worried? No, I'm not bloody worried! If she wants to bugger off in the middle of the night on the soddin' Hellmouth, that's her lookout… I'm not worried at all…"