"We Who Are About to Die" --- Spike & Anya
TITLE: "We Who Are About to Die"
Author: Evilawyer
Characters: Anya, Spike
Summary: A demon and an ex-demon chat while waiting for the Apocalypse.
Rating: PG. I think. I don't know. I've never had to worry about these things.
Warnings/Notes: It's practically 100% dialog, but I hope the speaker is clear.
He sits on his cot, like he’s been doing for the last hour, and studies the amulet. He hears her footfalls as she descends the stairs before he sees her. She reaches the bottom of the stairs and stops. She looks at him from across the basement.
“Hello, Spike.”
“Anya. Things a bit boring upstairs?”
“Just a bit. Andrew is trying to get everyone to play some silly board game. He’s running around dressed like Red Riding Hood. Xander seems excited about it, though, so I’ll probably play as well. If I don’t fall asleep, that is. I think Giles might play. It will give him something to do as he drinks his scotch. And one of the Potentials seems interested ---- the tall, skinny one with the flat hair ---- but all the others seem too intent on getting ready to face certain death tomorrow to engage in distractions.”
“Different strokes, I guess.”
She walks the few paces to his cot and sits beside him. “If that means that each of them has her own way of dealing with her impending doom, then yes. Buffy is outside somewhere.”
“And?”
“I just thought you might want to know where she is. I imagine she’ll probably come down to see you later, when she thinks everyone is asleep. Like she did last night. In the meantime, I wanted to wish you good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
“I wish I could be more heartfelt in expressing my optimism, but I have this horrible feeling that you and I are not going to make it. Andrew said something about me being fine as long as I didn’t wear a red shirt. He’s also been calling me by my name every time he sees me or talks to me. “Hello, Anya. Would you like to play D&D, Anya? Is there anymore popcorn, Anya?” It’s very annoying, but he says that having a name instead of a title like Security Officer Number 1 is very important protection against being slaughtered. Have you ever heard that?”
“Star Trek. The original series. The red shirted security officers with no names were the first to die whenever they beamed down to the planet.”
“Oh. I had hoped his theory had some basis in reality. Too much to expect, I guess. Well, I just have to face it, I’m doomed.”
“How do you figure?”
“I just have this feeling. You have your enhanced demon senses, I have my enhanced ex-demon ESP. This time, the demons and ex-demons won’t make it. I just have this feeling. Silly, huh?” She gives him a wobbly, twisted-lip smile, the kind of smile that says I’m trying really, really hard not to cry. Really, I am.
“I don’t know. Buffy has plan. It sounds like it just might work.”
“Work for everyone but you and me. I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Let’s talk about something else. That’s an extremely gaudy piece of jewelry you have there. Did you get it from QVC?”
“Not bloody likely. Angel gave to Buffy. It’s supposed to help tomorrow. Not sure how.”
“Angel gave it to Buffy, and she gave it to you. She must trust you very much. That must please you. Congratulations. Although it only heightens my sense of foreboding that you are as doomed as I am and that we are both going to die.”
“It is a possibility, I’ll grant you that. But then again, so is us surviving.”
“I have gotten use to the idea of dying. I mean, after all, I am human now. Permanently. And humans die in the end. It’s just that … I’m so scared. I thought I was scared all the other times the world was about to end, but this time I’m really scared. Being so scared when everybody else is being all brave and stoic makes me feel … ashamed.”
She draws in a shaky breath, and then loses her battle against crying. Tears stream down her face as she looks at him, and he thinks of another night when she cried in front of him, a night when they comforted each other. Everything went to Hell because they did, and there was no love in it, but there was comfort.
“Don’t be ashamed. You’d have to be dead to not be afraid tonight.”
“What about you? Are you afraid?”
“Well, truth be told, I am. Just a bit. And I kind of feel like this is my end, too, just like you. Don’t have that feeling about you, though.”
“Thank you for saying that, but it’s all right.” She gets her crying under control, wipes the wet tear tracks from her cheeks. The sad, resigned look stays in her eyes, though.
“May I hug you? I haven’t hugged anyone in a long time. Well, that’s not exactly true. Xander and I hugged during our recent, exciting make-up sex. I’m sorry about your sheets, by the way. We didn’t have time to wash them before you got back. But sex hugs aren’t the same as friend hugs. They’re hot and sweaty and clutchy and scratchy. Which is very enjoyable, but they aren’t warm and calming. They make you feel desired in the moment, but not appreciated in the long run. Don’t you think?”
His own throat tightens. He hasn’t been hugged in a long time, either. Not hugged the way she’s talking about. Just at that moment, he’s not sure he ever has been. Just at that moment, he wants to feel appreciated in the long run. He wants her to feel that way, too. So he stands up and holds out his hand to help her to her feet, just like a gentleman. She takes his hand and turns toward him. He puts his arms around her. When he feels her arms encircle his back, he holds on tighter. They stand together that way for a few moments, just holding on to each other. He feels comforted.
Finally, she pulls back, although she holds on to his hands.
“I better get back upstairs. Thank you, Spike. Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks. Same to you.”
She smiles again, far less wobbly and no twisted lips this time, and gives his hands a squeeze. Just as he’s about to squeeze back, she pulls her hands out of his, moves quickly to the stairs and practically runs up them. She doesn’t look back. He sits back down on his cot and studies the amulet.
Author: Evilawyer
Characters: Anya, Spike
Summary: A demon and an ex-demon chat while waiting for the Apocalypse.
Rating: PG. I think. I don't know. I've never had to worry about these things.
Warnings/Notes: It's practically 100% dialog, but I hope the speaker is clear.
He sits on his cot, like he’s been doing for the last hour, and studies the amulet. He hears her footfalls as she descends the stairs before he sees her. She reaches the bottom of the stairs and stops. She looks at him from across the basement.
“Hello, Spike.”
“Anya. Things a bit boring upstairs?”
“Just a bit. Andrew is trying to get everyone to play some silly board game. He’s running around dressed like Red Riding Hood. Xander seems excited about it, though, so I’ll probably play as well. If I don’t fall asleep, that is. I think Giles might play. It will give him something to do as he drinks his scotch. And one of the Potentials seems interested ---- the tall, skinny one with the flat hair ---- but all the others seem too intent on getting ready to face certain death tomorrow to engage in distractions.”
“Different strokes, I guess.”
She walks the few paces to his cot and sits beside him. “If that means that each of them has her own way of dealing with her impending doom, then yes. Buffy is outside somewhere.”
“And?”
“I just thought you might want to know where she is. I imagine she’ll probably come down to see you later, when she thinks everyone is asleep. Like she did last night. In the meantime, I wanted to wish you good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
“I wish I could be more heartfelt in expressing my optimism, but I have this horrible feeling that you and I are not going to make it. Andrew said something about me being fine as long as I didn’t wear a red shirt. He’s also been calling me by my name every time he sees me or talks to me. “Hello, Anya. Would you like to play D&D, Anya? Is there anymore popcorn, Anya?” It’s very annoying, but he says that having a name instead of a title like Security Officer Number 1 is very important protection against being slaughtered. Have you ever heard that?”
“Star Trek. The original series. The red shirted security officers with no names were the first to die whenever they beamed down to the planet.”
“Oh. I had hoped his theory had some basis in reality. Too much to expect, I guess. Well, I just have to face it, I’m doomed.”
“How do you figure?”
“I just have this feeling. You have your enhanced demon senses, I have my enhanced ex-demon ESP. This time, the demons and ex-demons won’t make it. I just have this feeling. Silly, huh?” She gives him a wobbly, twisted-lip smile, the kind of smile that says I’m trying really, really hard not to cry. Really, I am.
“I don’t know. Buffy has plan. It sounds like it just might work.”
“Work for everyone but you and me. I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Let’s talk about something else. That’s an extremely gaudy piece of jewelry you have there. Did you get it from QVC?”
“Not bloody likely. Angel gave to Buffy. It’s supposed to help tomorrow. Not sure how.”
“Angel gave it to Buffy, and she gave it to you. She must trust you very much. That must please you. Congratulations. Although it only heightens my sense of foreboding that you are as doomed as I am and that we are both going to die.”
“It is a possibility, I’ll grant you that. But then again, so is us surviving.”
“I have gotten use to the idea of dying. I mean, after all, I am human now. Permanently. And humans die in the end. It’s just that … I’m so scared. I thought I was scared all the other times the world was about to end, but this time I’m really scared. Being so scared when everybody else is being all brave and stoic makes me feel … ashamed.”
She draws in a shaky breath, and then loses her battle against crying. Tears stream down her face as she looks at him, and he thinks of another night when she cried in front of him, a night when they comforted each other. Everything went to Hell because they did, and there was no love in it, but there was comfort.
“Don’t be ashamed. You’d have to be dead to not be afraid tonight.”
“What about you? Are you afraid?”
“Well, truth be told, I am. Just a bit. And I kind of feel like this is my end, too, just like you. Don’t have that feeling about you, though.”
“Thank you for saying that, but it’s all right.” She gets her crying under control, wipes the wet tear tracks from her cheeks. The sad, resigned look stays in her eyes, though.
“May I hug you? I haven’t hugged anyone in a long time. Well, that’s not exactly true. Xander and I hugged during our recent, exciting make-up sex. I’m sorry about your sheets, by the way. We didn’t have time to wash them before you got back. But sex hugs aren’t the same as friend hugs. They’re hot and sweaty and clutchy and scratchy. Which is very enjoyable, but they aren’t warm and calming. They make you feel desired in the moment, but not appreciated in the long run. Don’t you think?”
His own throat tightens. He hasn’t been hugged in a long time, either. Not hugged the way she’s talking about. Just at that moment, he’s not sure he ever has been. Just at that moment, he wants to feel appreciated in the long run. He wants her to feel that way, too. So he stands up and holds out his hand to help her to her feet, just like a gentleman. She takes his hand and turns toward him. He puts his arms around her. When he feels her arms encircle his back, he holds on tighter. They stand together that way for a few moments, just holding on to each other. He feels comforted.
Finally, she pulls back, although she holds on to his hands.
“I better get back upstairs. Thank you, Spike. Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks. Same to you.”
She smiles again, far less wobbly and no twisted lips this time, and gives his hands a squeeze. Just as he’s about to squeeze back, she pulls her hands out of his, moves quickly to the stairs and practically runs up them. She doesn’t look back. He sits back down on his cot and studies the amulet.