by She's a Star
Disclaimer: Buffy's not mine.
Author's Note: Anya is hard to write. First off, that just had to be said. It really surprised me how difficult she is, as she reminds me a lot of myself (sans the whole sex fixation thing) and I've often said things that sound like Anya dialogue. And yet . . . I couldn't write her. So if the Anya lines that aren't taken directly from Tabula Rasa sound off, that's why.
Anyway, I found this scene positively hilarious - I don't know if it's been done before, but nonetheless, I wanted to write it, and as I'm on a little mini writing-kick as of late, I thought I would.
What a concept.
I've only seen this episode twice, so forgive me if the actions don't match up exactly. I'm also just a leetle bit too lazy to proofread as it's nearly one in the morning, so I'm just going to post.
So basically, my apologies in advance for sucky Anya characterization, actions that don't match the episode's, and any other errors you may find. :-)
For Milla, who agreed that Giles/Anya would actually be kind of bearable, in a parallel and very, very different universe.
Rupert Giles really couldn't understand what was terrifying about a rabbit.
After all, they were rather small, docile, endearing creatures, quite devoid of fangs or claws or anything particularly lethal.
And yet they seemed to instill some sense of fear in at least one person--
His fiancée.
"Rupey!" Anya exclaimed, clinging to him. "Get it away! Get it away!"
"Anya . . . dear," he threw in a bit uncertainly, and squeezed her shoulders in reassurance. "It's just a rabbit."
He could feel her trembling in fear.
Well, perhaps this was why he was leaving her - she was clinically insane. Normal people didn't have bunny-phobia. Or so he assumed, at least.
"We do have some, ah . . . vampires to worry about," he reminded her.
"Hah!" She laughed shortly. "Vampires! Obviously, your priorities are completely out of order."
He found he couldn't even begin to dignify that with an answer.
Oh, dear.
"Darling, perhaps the scary . . . bunny--" he couldn't believe he was saying this, "--will disappear if we attempt another spell."
She stood up a little straighter, composing herself. "Yes. Yes. Of course. You're right, honey."
"Yes," he said with a faint smile.
One of the bunny's ears twitched.
"Aaah!"
And the composure was gone.
In its place - madness.
"Don't even try it, you nefarious little fluffer!" Anya brandished the book at the rabbit, which, in Giles's opinion, didn't look at all nefarious.
The bunny blinked.
"Oh, Rupey," Anya collapsed into his arms, all bravery abandoned, "We're going to die in here!"
"Nonsense, sweetheart," he said uneasily, stroking her hair. "You simply need to pull yourself together, and try another spell. Unless you'd like me to--"
"No!" Anya exclaimed, pulling the book out of his reach. "I can do it." With an expression of great resolve, she finished, "I can conquer my fears." She fixed her stony gaze on the rabbit, who stared demurely back.
"Bara bara himble gemination!"
Another rabbit popped into existence.
Anya let out a strangled scream and, clutching the book, climbed up onto a chair. She stared fearfully down below her.
She really was a bit of a lunatic.
. . . Perhaps he found that attractive in a woman.
He really couldn't be sure.
"Bara bara himble gemination!" Anya cried out again.
And then there were four bunnies.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead gave her his best cajoling smile. "Anya, darling, if you'd just let me see the book--"
"No!" She was determined now. "I'm going to get rid of them. I need to show them that I'm not easily going to be intimidated by their fuzzy, twitchy, diabolical little ways." She shuddered a little bit. "Oh, no. I'm sending them back!"
"You do that." The sarcasm really surpassed irresistible and went right on to necessary.
He watched her grow increasingly more emotional as the bunnies multiplied. In no time, there were at least twenty. The poor girl. He supposed it really was a terrifying situation to her.
"Perhaps we should try another book," he suggested tentatively.
"No!" Anya said, completely resolute. "This book made the little fluffers, and this book's gonna send 'em back. I've got it this time. Okay. Himble abri abri voyon!"
Yet another bunny appeared.
"Yes, dear," Giles said in the most pleasant voice he could manage. He found himself wondering absently what they were going to do with all of them, if they couldn't be sent back. Perhaps Randy would like one -- no, probably not. He seemed a bit too old to appreciate fuzzy pets.
The boy really was an unpleasant chap. He wondered exactly how he'd been able to deal with all of these crazy people for so long. Leaving indeed seemed a desirable option at the moment.
Sighing, he pushed a bunny aside and sunk into a chair, staring at Anya as she determinedly cried out different spells, all of which resulted in yet more . . . 'fluffers.' She really was a very beautiful woman, if not a bit . . . young. Was it possible that he was just putting up with her because he was going through some pathetic mid-life crisis and kept his sexy young girlfriend around just to relive his glory days?
. . . Had he had glory days?
No, no. This was entirely ridiculous. They must have loved each other. They did own the shop together. Which meant they probably spent hour upon hour in each other's company. Day after day after day.
His head was beginning to ache.
And the bunnies kept on coming.
. . . And oddly enough, with the last few had come a swirling green cloud in the ceiling.
This was just too bloody much.
"Clearly, that is not a helpful book, darling." He tried not to sound too frustrated. After all, this was probably some sort of traumatic experience in her warped mind. "Come down, and we will go about fixing this in a sensible fashion!"
"Sensible?!" Anya repeated, incredulous. "You think it's sensible for me to go down into that pit of cotton-top hell and let them hippity-hop all over my vulnerable flesh??"
Ridiculous. Utterly and completely ridiculous.
Thank God he was leaving her. He felt tempted to kiss the plane ticket, for heaven's sake.
"Fine! Then just stay up there and keep making bunnies! That's a capital plan!"
"What capital?" Anya wanted to know. It was quite clear that she was becoming annoyed with him as well. "I never know what you're talking about! Loo, shag, brolly - what the hell is all that?"
"What?" he asked, exasperated. "There's no way you could remember me saying any of those words!"
"Oh, bugger off, you brolly," she instructed darkly.
Fine. Completely fine with him.
Scowling, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and ignored her. He'd do very well to ignore all the sodding bunnies, too.
"So you're just not going to talk to me now?" Anya demanded, sounding furious.
"You told me to, and I quote, 'bugger off,'" he reminded her through gritted teeth.
"And so you listened?!" exclaimed Anya, clearly horrified. "I can't believe you! I can't believe I'm going to marry a man who doesn't even care about my safety! I'm teetering in between life and death here, and all you can do is grumble out your stupid British curse words!"
"Oh, would you prefer American ones?" he asked, his tone a parody of refined courtesy. "Screw off."
Anya glared at him and then looked back to the book and positively shouted out, "Corpus appugno chalybs!"
He prepared himself for another swarm of bunnies, but instead, a skeleton brandishing a sword appeared out of thin air.
"Aaaugh!" he exclaimed, jumping out of his chair.
"Aaaah!" Anya shrieked.
Sword, sword, sword . . .
Aha!
He clumsily pulled a sword from behind the counter and brandished it at the skeleton. The corpse, however, didn't seem at all put out - instead, it grinned at him and made a move to slash his throat.
"Rupert!" he heard Anya cry.
Oh, naturally. The woman only showed the slightest bit of concern when his life was at stake, and only because once he suffered a painful death complete with puncture wounds and a great amount of blood, there would be no one to protect her from the damnable bunny rabbits.
He wondered if he could normally sword-fight. Well, one thing was for sure; he couldn't recall how to, if he'd known once. However, the corpse seemed quite desperate for a good fight, and so Giles did his best to avoid being killed.
He snuck a glance at Anya and nearly got beheaded in result. She was flipping desperately through the book pages.
Really. How utterly daft could she be?
"Get a different book!" he shouted - it really was difficult to battle a homicidal skeleton and speak at the same time. "Put that book down, do you hear?? Not . . . that . . ." he ducked and avoided yet another potential death, "book!"
Anya paid him no mind. Instead, she screamed out a jumbled number of spells, which resulted in three more skeletons, at least fifty new rabbits, what looked like some sort of hag, and, strangely, a cow.
"Rupert, what's wrong with you??" Anya yelled, jumping from the chair and running to take cover behind the front counter. The cow mooed rather threateningly at her. "Run!"
"Oh, yes, of course! Why ever didn't I think of that while I was busy battling a dead swordsman?" Giles shouted back, making one more desperate plunge with the sword and managing to shove it through the ribcage of the corpse. It collapsed, and he sped toward the counter to join his fiancée.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" demanded Anya in a furious whisper, swatting at his arm.
"Hey!" he hissed back, shoving her away and retrieving a stack of books from the shelf. It was obvious she'd be no help - he would have to find a spell to get rid of them on his own. He flipped open a book at random and began to scan its contents.
"Can I help?" she asked in an infuriatingly sweet, innocent tone.
"I think a very safe reply to that question would be a strong, resounding chorus of 'no's," Giles whispered back, scowling.
She pouted. "Why not? This is my shop, too. We own it together, you know. And besides, I'm the one with the intuition here."
She yanked one of the books from his lap.
He laughed disbelievingly. "Intuition??" This was truly too much. "Look what you've done, you lunatic woman!"
And the sweet act disappeared without a trace. "Don't blame me, you snobby, snotty, thinks-he's-so-great kind of jerk! . . . and I feel compelled to take some vengeance on you!"
With this proclamation, she promptly slammed the book down onto his head.
A throbbing pain immediately shot through it.
"Ow! God! No wonder I'm leaving you!"
Oh dear. He hadn't actually meant to say that aloud. But then again, he decided as he listened to the chaos ensuing on the other side of the counter, it was probably best that he had. After all, there was no doubt that he'd damned well meant it.
"What?!" Anya asked, shocked.
"Look!" he removed the plane ticket from his pocket and brandished it as evidence. "One-way ticket to London and out of this engagement!"
"Of all the nerve!" Anya exclaimed in outrage. Furious, she yanked the engagement ring from her finger and threw it at him. (She really was horribly violent.) It bounced onto the floor with a soft clatter and rolled out into the danger zone on the other side of the counter. He was suddenly acutely aware of the large amount of snarling going on over there, and wondered, feeling faintly sick, exactly how much that ring had cost.
"Now look at what you've done!" Anya commanded, glaring. "That thing is gonna eat my ring!"
Um. Whoops.
He continued flipping through the book.
"I really liked that ring, too," she continued wistfully. "Of course, despite the fact that a snobby jerk gave it to me, and I no doubt had to suffer long, painful hours in his company for it. It was a very lovely piece of jewelry." She scowled at him. "You probably didn't even pick it out yourself."
"Oh, shut up," he instructed, cross, and continued browsing the pages. It really wasn't much help, as the entire thing was in a language that he couldn't even begin to understand. Might as well try something. He picked a random spell that looked, he supposed, promising enough, and read it in a whisper.
"Fatas . . . venga . . . mata . . . waray!"
A blue light flashed, and the store fell silent.
Well. Perhaps that was a good sign. At least the snarling had ceased.
Tentatively, he rose and peeked out over the counter. The coast seemed to be clear. He stood up.
"Oh. That's better."
Anya rushed out from behind the counter and over to her beloved ring. "Oh, thank goodness," she breathed, sliding it onto her finger.
Now that the whole escapade was over, he did feel a bit bad. She was his fiancée, after all, and the love of his life (or so he assumed). A room full of assorted snarling beasts and about a hundred bunnies shouldn't have been able to change that.
And she looked so happy now, positively alight with relief as she stared down at her ring.
Perhaps that plane ticket back to England wouldn't be necessary after all.
"I'm so sorry, dear," he said sincerely, stepping out from behind the counter and toward her.
"No, Rupey," Anya returned, genuine sweetness in her voice, "You were right. That was the wrong book."
"Oh . . . um . . ." She did have him there. "Yes. It was." Might as well admit the truth, after all. "But I'm--I'm still sorry."
"Don't leave me," she requested in a small voice, hurt and timid desperation apparent in her features.
He felt a surge of affection well through him.
"Oh, Anya."
And with that, he strode over to her, took her in his arms, and pressed his lips to hers. She positively melted into his embrace, and he slowly dipped her backward without breaking the kiss. (Really quite suave, if he did say so himself.)
Mmm. Yes. Even if he couldn't quite recall anything else about his life, he was quite sure he remembered now why he was marrying her.