30 minute chick...
Here's my 30-minute fic from cindyamb's 30-minute challenge.
I admit it kind of sucks. A less-sucky version will be posted in sunday100 in a bit. But if you want to see the raw product of my muse and a clock, click below.
No one ever asked about the wedding rings.
Anya kept her engagement ring, of course. Carried it with her a lot of the time in a purse or pocket, once she became human again. Once Andrew caught her putting it on and holding her hand out in front of her to watch it glitter, and she jumped up suddenly and told him he'd be transfigured into a toad if he told Xander, or Buffy, or come to think of it anyone.
Andrew nodded. He was used to threats. Price of being a super-villain, he thought. I face my death each day, and fear nothing.
But the wedding rings? No one cared. Willow gave them back to Xander a few days after the wedding that wasn't. "I figured these were yours," she said. "Maybe you could use them as very small curtain rings? Or, um, convert them into mismatched hoop earrings? I hear that's all the rage." He didn't smile, and she quit talking and simply placed them into his upturned palm.
Anya's ring was simple, a slender gold band. Elegant. But Xander had some weird allergy to gold, so he went for sterling silver. It was that or platinum, and he didn't want to make Anya pay a couple hundred for something he'd probably drop into the foundation of some office building or cover with demon guts within a few months. The ring he chose was chunky, almost square, with a slim polished band around its center and a matte finish covering the rest. They'd had them engraved; Anya's said "you are my lover" and Xander's said "and you are my friend." No dates. Maybe I could con some other woman into wearing these someday, Xander thought. If I ever want to go through all this torture again. So he kept them, stuck in a tiny box stuffed underneath his socks. Looked at them once in a while and wondered what if.
Then Spike found them. Xander could tell something was up when he got home; the vampire had his special I'm-about-to-humiliate-someone look on his face.
"What is it, deadboy?"
Spike grinned. "See you're still attached to the vengeance demon. When did you reschedule the legal blessing? Figure I should be in the wedding party this time - after all, I already have the rings." He produced his hand from behind his back; the rings glimmered.
"Okay, Frodo. You found the rings," Xander said. "But why were you in my sock drawer? Tracking the dryer demon again?"
Spike looked peeved. "Couldn't find my own socks."
"What, so you wanted to steal mine? You already take my peanut butter and all of my good records."
"Oh, please. Unlike some people here, I have a sense of style."
"I do too have a sense of style! Nothing's wrong with-" Xander glanced at his ankles "-okay, maybe something's a little wrong with argyle, but most of my socks are just plain white athletic socks with red bands. They're a national tradition. I am manly, I wear manly socks. And anyhow, why would I want to steal your socks? Aren't you the criminal here."
"You're ignoring the point. The point is, you still want Anya. I'm obligated to tell her. It's my moral imperative."
"I didn't keep the rings for Anya. I kept them for me." Off Spike,s look, he added, "What, you got rid of everything to do with Drusilla and Harmony?"
"Every last doll, and every last copy of Seventeen," Spike said, nodding. "Clearly you can't say the same," he added, glancing at the Michael Bolton poster Anya had left on the wall and the stack of romance novels on top of the refrigerator.
"Hey, man, I gave back plenty," Xander said. "It's just ... I'm still finding things, you know? Besides, I'm still not sure what I want to do with the rings."
Spike laughed. "Know a pawn shop that'll give you two hundred fifty quid for the pair. Shall we?"
Unable to stall, Xander grabbed his keys and followed the vampire out the door.
I admit it kind of sucks. A less-sucky version will be posted in sunday100 in a bit. But if you want to see the raw product of my muse and a clock, click below.
No one ever asked about the wedding rings.
Anya kept her engagement ring, of course. Carried it with her a lot of the time in a purse or pocket, once she became human again. Once Andrew caught her putting it on and holding her hand out in front of her to watch it glitter, and she jumped up suddenly and told him he'd be transfigured into a toad if he told Xander, or Buffy, or come to think of it anyone.
Andrew nodded. He was used to threats. Price of being a super-villain, he thought. I face my death each day, and fear nothing.
But the wedding rings? No one cared. Willow gave them back to Xander a few days after the wedding that wasn't. "I figured these were yours," she said. "Maybe you could use them as very small curtain rings? Or, um, convert them into mismatched hoop earrings? I hear that's all the rage." He didn't smile, and she quit talking and simply placed them into his upturned palm.
Anya's ring was simple, a slender gold band. Elegant. But Xander had some weird allergy to gold, so he went for sterling silver. It was that or platinum, and he didn't want to make Anya pay a couple hundred for something he'd probably drop into the foundation of some office building or cover with demon guts within a few months. The ring he chose was chunky, almost square, with a slim polished band around its center and a matte finish covering the rest. They'd had them engraved; Anya's said "you are my lover" and Xander's said "and you are my friend." No dates. Maybe I could con some other woman into wearing these someday, Xander thought. If I ever want to go through all this torture again. So he kept them, stuck in a tiny box stuffed underneath his socks. Looked at them once in a while and wondered what if.
Then Spike found them. Xander could tell something was up when he got home; the vampire had his special I'm-about-to-humiliate-someone look on his face.
"What is it, deadboy?"
Spike grinned. "See you're still attached to the vengeance demon. When did you reschedule the legal blessing? Figure I should be in the wedding party this time - after all, I already have the rings." He produced his hand from behind his back; the rings glimmered.
"Okay, Frodo. You found the rings," Xander said. "But why were you in my sock drawer? Tracking the dryer demon again?"
Spike looked peeved. "Couldn't find my own socks."
"What, so you wanted to steal mine? You already take my peanut butter and all of my good records."
"Oh, please. Unlike some people here, I have a sense of style."
"I do too have a sense of style! Nothing's wrong with-" Xander glanced at his ankles "-okay, maybe something's a little wrong with argyle, but most of my socks are just plain white athletic socks with red bands. They're a national tradition. I am manly, I wear manly socks. And anyhow, why would I want to steal your socks? Aren't you the criminal here."
"You're ignoring the point. The point is, you still want Anya. I'm obligated to tell her. It's my moral imperative."
"I didn't keep the rings for Anya. I kept them for me." Off Spike,s look, he added, "What, you got rid of everything to do with Drusilla and Harmony?"
"Every last doll, and every last copy of Seventeen," Spike said, nodding. "Clearly you can't say the same," he added, glancing at the Michael Bolton poster Anya had left on the wall and the stack of romance novels on top of the refrigerator.
"Hey, man, I gave back plenty," Xander said. "It's just ... I'm still finding things, you know? Besides, I'm still not sure what I want to do with the rings."
Spike laughed. "Know a pawn shop that'll give you two hundred fifty quid for the pair. Shall we?"
Unable to stall, Xander grabbed his keys and followed the vampire out the door.