Two To Tango
Chapter Three: Hitting The Fan

He woke up alone. It had been so long since he woke up alone and his first reaction was panic. Where was she? Then the memory of the night before came back and he winced. Oh yeah, he could have been more tactful. But she knew when they got together that he wasn't exactly the most tactful vampire around. He sighed and shifted in the bed, staring around the room.

He'd never been in a relationship like this one before. Drusilla had filled the place he was staying in with dolls. Some with half their hair missing, other's with missing eyes. The only one that was in good condition was Miss Edith. She was always Dru's favourite. Angelus got her for Dru, as he recalled. They had never settled anywhere, never got a nice place that she could do up.

Harmony had moved herself into his crypt. Before he knew it, there were unicorns everywhere, glitter all over his favourite chair, make-up rubbed over the sheets, mud packs in the fridge and he had tripped over a ghastly pink feather boa more times than he could count. But she had never been a part of his life; she had forced herself in. She didn't fit into his life in the same way that her glittery things didn't fit into the black cave of his crypt.

But with Anya, it was all new and different. She fitted into his life like a hand in a glove. He had moved into her room, moving his clothing and books into the bright room. She had dark red curtains put up to protect him from the sun and had made room for his clothes in her closet. Her makeup and various bottles of nail varnish were placed neatly on the vanity table, the small stool tucked underneath, the mirror shone in the small beam of light that slipped through the curtains. For some reason, his small bottle of black nail varnish and battered packet of cigarettes didn't look out of place. His black boots looked good tossed untidily next to her favourite black pumps.

She felt good in his life. She felt good in his arms. She just felt good. He dragged the sheets back and left the room for the bathroom, ignoring the burn of sunlight as it grazed his side.

He was going to get her back.


Buffy ran down the hall and opened the door, almost knocked over as Spike ran in and tossed the blanket off himself.

"Spike?" she asked. "What are you doing here? It's daytime!"

"Really? Would never have guessed, Buffy, what with the pain and the burning and all!"

"Oh, right," she shuffled her feet. "Want some pancakes? I kinda made too many."

"No thanks, Slayer, I'm a vampire on a mission."

"To annoy the hell outta me?" she asked with a friendly smile.

"The world don't revolve around you, y'know. Actually, I'm looking for Anya."

"Anya? Why, what's up?"

"Nothing. We just… had an argument and she sorta… went off… But that's not the issue here," he bristled slightly and avoided her eyes. "The point is, I'm trying to find her."

"And then what?"

He stared at her, she was serious.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" he asked in disbelief. "What do you think I'm gonna do? We're gonna talk… I'll… apologise... or something."

Her eyes softened. She wasn't dumb, she wasn't blind either. Spike would pretty much do anything to get Anya back. She had been present to witness him producing a large bunch of flowers and a loud apology for missing a dinner she had cooked. She felt a twinge of jealousy and forced it away. It was good; it was good that two of her friends were happy.

"Well, I haven't seen her, Spike, she hasn't been here."

He felt his stomach lurch. Hellmouth, missing Anya, not a good combination. Ok, he had to keep calm; he could let himself get bogged down in worry. He had to keep a clear head; he had to - where is she? She could be lying in pain in a ditch somewhere! Or - or… worse

"Have you tried asking Tara?"

"Huh, what?" he shook his head and looked up at her.

"Tara? Have you tried -"

"I called her last night, I tried again this morning, but she was out at that lecture thing."

"Oh…." Buffy nibbled her lip and wondered where she would go. "Xander?"

"What about him?"

"She might be there. If Tara wasn't here to talk to, maybe she went to see him," she saw the dismay cross his face and hurried to change her theory. "To talk. She might have mentioned what motel she'd be staying in for the night…"

"Oh yeah, right. I know that," he frowned and nodded. "Can I use your phone to call him? Easier than going out into the pesky sunlight."

"Sure," she waved him into the living room and found Xander in the small phone book. She went back into the kitchen, but stood by the door and listened.

He punched in the number a little harder than necessary and waited for the idiot boy to answer. He didn't.

"Hey, you got hold of him yet?" Buffy asked, coming back into the living room with a glass of orange juice.

"No," Spike shrugged. "Lazy git probably isn't even up yet."

"Probably," Buffy agreed.

He swept the blanket over himself again and she followed him to the door and opened it, watching him race toward his car. She bit her lip again and closed the door.

Xander was always up by now.


The telephone had woken her up, but she couldn't answer it, she was too ashamed. She glanced behind her at Xander's sleeping body and shuddered. She should really wake him up, he'd be late for work otherwise, he hadn't set his alarm the night before. That would be my fault.

Xander sighed contentedly and rolled toward her, a small smile on his face that she remembered from when they were an item.

"Ahn," he mumbled and yawned a little before falling back into a deep sleep again.

She hated "Ahn," hated the possessiveness of it. No one else ever called her that, it was something only he did, even when she left him and got with Spike, he would let it slip every now and again. Spike never called her "Ahn," he called her "Sunshine." But there was no possessiveness about that nickname because he had nicknames for everyone and he had called her that long before that were a couple. She liked that it was special though, liked that no one else ever called her that. Liked that it meant something to him.

She sniffed hard and wiped her eyes, tugging the sheet more tightly around her naked body.


Spike rapped hard on the door. Fine, the whelp wouldn't wake up; he'd give him a nasty little surprise. He dug in the pocket of the duster and removed a small piece of wire that had been there since he and Dawn had broken into the Magic Box. After a few minutes fiddling and muted curses, the door opened and he slipped into the apartment. He half closed his eyes against the sun and moved back into the shadows.

Love what you've done to the place, Xander, Spike thought, his lip curling as he noted the empty wine bottles and take away boxes. Like a zoo. Lovely.

He froze when he caught the smell of Anya. He stood in the middle of the living room and turned slowly in a complete circle. His eyes came to rest on the two glasses nestled among empty wine bottles. He snatched up one glass and studied it. There was a clear lipstick mark. Passionate Rose, he thought. It was her favourite lipstick of the moment. He had been bored one day so he had sat reading the names of her make up. Hot Magenta, Smouldering Black, Dolly Pink and Electric Lilac to name but a few.

So she was here then, was she? Well, that would explain it. Xander slept on the couch, letting Anya take the bed, he had gone to work and she had slept through the phonecall. As much as it pissed him off that she had gone to Xander's, at least she was ok. At least she hadn't skipped town or been killed or tortured. It would all be ok.

He walked over to the bedroom door and hesitated. If she was asleep, he should really just let her - oh to hell with it, he thought. I'm here to soddin' apologise!

He yanked the door open and stared at the scene before him. Xander stirred and blinked up at him, his eyes widening as he realised what was happening. Anya sat naked on the side of the bed furthest from him, a sheet wrapped around her torso. She turned around and looked at him blankly. Then her face came to life, her mouth swung open, her hands scrabbled at the sheet as she stood and stumbled around the bed. Xander sat up and stared at the two of them, seeming to think that if he was as silent as possible, Spike wouldn't notice him.

Spike stared down at Anya, her hand hovering over his arm. He didn't move until her hand finally touched him. Images of her screwing Xander in that bed, of her screaming his name flashed through his mind and he yanked his arm away, shaking his head as he backed away.

"Spike," Anya started. "I'm sorry -"

"No," he said. "You don't get to say that."

"Spike, please…"

"No," he yelled. "Keep the fuck away from me! You want Monkey Boy so bad; you're welcome to him. And you," he glared at Xander, his finger shaking with suppressed rage as he pointed at him. "You come anywhere near me, you even attempt to talk to me, and I will break every bone in your body and bleed you dry through your genitals, chip or no chip."

He turned sharply and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Anya standing where she had been, staring at him, tears raining down her face unchecked. She heard the door slam and she jumped, her body quivering.

"Ahn," Xander started.

"No," she snapped. "Shut up! I hate that name!" her voice shook as much as her body. "Just shut up…"

She dragged the sheet up from the floor, hugging it to her chest and ran out of the bedroom and out of the apartment. He was halfway down the hall when she got out of the apartment.

"Spike!" she shouted. "Spike, wait."

"Fuck off, Anya," he answered flatly without turning around.

"Spike!" she screamed, running to catch up, her feet catching in the sheet. "Spike!"

He turned into the stairwell and she crumbled to the floor, suddenly awareness of her nakedness, both physical and mental, sobbing wildly.

"Spike."

He leaned against the wall, out of her sight and rubbed his hands over his face. He listened as she picked herself up and returned to Xander's apartment.

Fine, he thought bitterly. Stay with Harris, if that's what you want. I don't care.

But he did, because if he didn't, it wouldn't hurt like it did.