Drinks, Demons And Kitten Poker
Spoilers- Anything before Hells Bells
Disclaimer- Me: Fanfic writer, Joss: Owner and genius creator.
Note- This is kind of an idea that has been knocking around in my brain since that scene in S4 when Spike and Anya are talking at the Bronze.
Anya winced as the alcohol burned a trail down her throat. She slammed the shot glass down on the bar at the Bronze and indicated towards the bartender for another. She watched as the amber liquid filled the glass, holding up a hand to get him to stay Anya downed the shot and slammed the glass on the bar, causing the man to wince.
"Again." Anya demanded, her voice rough from the repetitive shots.
"Miss, don't you think you've had enough?" The bartender asked timidly.
Anya glared at him. "No, now fill 'er up!"
The bartender tried again. "Miss, I don't think-" He was interrupted.
"Don't think. Just give the lady her drink."
Anya looked up. "Spike."
Spike nodded at her. "Demon girl. You here alone? I thought you and the boy were joined at the hip these days, what with the two of you getting hitched soon and all."
Anya downed her shot and placed it on the bar, never once looking at him. "He's working late at a site."
Spike straddled the stool next to hers. "So you thought, what? Come to the Bronze and buy some overpriced drinks to keep you company?"
Anya picked up her glass and twisted it in her hands, staring at the small amount of alcohol that swirled in the bottom of the glass. "I'm sick of stress eating over the wedding."
Spike arched his scared eyebrow at her. "So you thought you'd stress drink and get royally pissed instead."
Anya nodded. "That's the plan."
Spike shrugged. "Sounds good. Think I'll join you."
Anya stared at him until he shrugged self-consciously. "A fella has his reasons, not that I ever needed a reason to get drunk. 'Sides I can actually stand you; 1000 years of vengeance makes for some bloody interesting stories."
Anya ran a finger around the rim of the glass and laughed bitterly. "Xander never wants to hear my stories."
Spike smirked. "He's human, pet. Human's never want to be reminded of their own mortality."
Anya glared at him. "I'm human."
Spike shook his head. "Maybe physically. But you're something more, Anya. We both are. We don't belong here. We're bigger than this, better than this."
"And yet we're both still here." Anya commented.
Spike snagged a bottle of beer, ignoring the protests of the drinker, and took a swig, grimacing at the taste of cheap American beer. "Ye-ap. We are Loves Bitches aren't we?"
Anya propped her head up with her fist and sighed. "Oh yeah."
Spike sighed and guzzled the rest of the beer. He looked around the club, eyeing the teenagers and early twenty-something's with distaste. His lip curled. "You want to get out of here? All these giggling children are turning my stomach."
Anya looked around and scowled. "Please."
"There now, isn't this better?" Spike asked as they settled into a booth, drinks of preference in hand.
Anya looked around, taking in the familiar sight of demonic faces and forms. She took a gulp of her wine and leaned back, a genuine smile on her face. "Yeah, it is."
Anya bopped along with the music from the jukebox as she searched through the crowd. "Hey, I think I attended a massacre with that demon once." Anya waved excitedly to him.
The demon looked at her, confused, and waved hesitantly back. Anya beamed and drained her glass.
"Whoa, Luv. Don't want you to pass out yet." Spike pulled her glass away from her. "You don't have the demonic constitution you used to anymore."
Anya pouted. "Killjoy."
Spike chuckled. "Just don't want to have to carry you home is all."
Anya leaned back into the cushion of the booth and crossed her arms. She watched the demons come and go with nostalgic eyes, often getting caught up in telling Spike stories from her past. Spike would smirk and chuckle appreciatively at all her bloody and gory vengeance work tales.
Hours later when she and Spike were well past slightly tipsy and raring their way through drunk into completely shaggin' pissed, as Spike like to put it, through the entire din Anya made out the little mew of a kitten. She looked up and caught sight of a demon in an overcoat that wouldn't stop wiggling, a small ginger tail poked out of one of the pockets.
Anya grabbed Spike's arm. "You know what I'd really like to do right now?"
Spike leered at her. "I could guess."
"Play some kitten poker." Anya announced. "I haven't played a good game of kitten poker in decades."
Spike quickly recovered. He helped her to her feet, although he couldn't quite figure out how someone had slipped him a third leg without him realizing it. "If it's kitten poker the former vengeance demon wants, then its kitten poker she shall get."
Spike and Anya made their way unsteady to the back door and pushed their way through. A bunch of demons looked up nervously. Clem stepped forward. "Spike, you're back. You didn't bring the slayer with you again, did you?"
Spike threw his arm around Anya's shoulders. "Nah, just an ex-vengeance demon looking for a good time."
The demons looked at the smiling Anya suspiciously.
"How do you become any ex-demon?" One of the demons asked.
Anya shrugged. "Had my amulet broken. Time was when I could have wrecked a bloody massacre on this town, left it cursing my name." Anya sighed nostalgically. "Those were the days, back when I wouldn't have even blinked at the thought of eviscerating everyone at the Bronze and maybe collecting their intestines to make a coat out of."
Spike sighed, clearly caught up in the image. "Fun times."
Anya smiled. "Yes, they were."
Clem shifted away from her. His hands hovering around his sides in an attempt to protect his intestines.
"Oh don't worry I only kill demons now. You know when they try to hurt my Xander or destroy my store. Intestines don't really work with this colour any way." Anya reassured Clem earnestly while running her fingers through her newly coloured hair. She sat at the table. "So are we going to play kitten poker or what?"
Anya squinted at the cards in her hands and stuck her cigar securely between her teeth. She looked at the kittens on the table then back at her cards. She surveyed her fellow card players; Spike had folded long ago so her main competition was Clem and a green-blue scaly demon with claws. She watched as the green-blue demon fidgeted under her gaze and Clem drummed his fingers against the table anxiously.
A smug smile crept across her face, after playing several rounds with them she had picked up their telling signatures. Over a millennia alive teaches you how to read people, especially in the wishing business. Anya set her cards in the table.
"Read 'em and weep, boys. Looks like I win again."
Anya awoke with a groan. She pulled herself over to the side of the bed and let herself hang half off. A shadow loomed over her.
"I'm guessing someone had a big night last night."
Anya groaned again at Xander's amused voice. Her brain pounded against her skull, begging to be let out and her stomach churned. She couldn't remember the last time she was this hung over.
Xander crouched down. "I made you some of the Harris family famous hang over remedy. And I cooked you up a big breakfast to get you going."
Anya attempted to smile at him. He really was a fabulous man, he was so kind and caring and he would make a great father some day.
"There's just one thing, Honey. Why is our living room full of kittens?"