Five Card Draw
by Sajinn

“Hit me, Spike.”

“Oh, if I only could, Rupert.” Spike muttered, throwing down a card. The Watcher grinned. Another twenty-one.

“Ah, yes. I believe I have won yet another hand?” Giles retrieved yet another pile of candy corn to his stash.

“I hate this game. Can we switch?” Anya moaned. “Five-card draw, please?” She whined.

“Sure, pet. Got a problem with that, Watcher?” Giles shrugged, eating some of his winnings. The three card players huddled around Spike’s coffee table, taking warmth and comfort from the candles scattered there.

“I can’t believe that Buffy trapped us in here. What was she thinking?” Anya said, shivering from cold. It was unseasonably cool in Sunnydale, and an unheated crypt was not her idea of luxury, even if Spike had the place draped in velvet.

“Well, it might be that she caught me and Xander shagging in the Magic Box and now she’s trying to talk sense into the whelp, or it could be that she caught you and Rupert shagging in his little red convertible and got jealous.” Spike replied, shuffling the cards adeptly.

“We were not ‘shagging,’ Spike.” Giles said, his head in his hands.

“Yes, we were.” Anya remarked, smirking. Indeed, they were fucking when Buffy ran up to Giles car to ask for a lift. She had been anxious to find Anya ever since catching Xander and Spike in the magic store. The Slayer didn’t understand the charade—Anya pretended to date Xander so that Buffy didn’t know about her and Giles, or about Xander and Spike. Needless to say, the truth didn’t sit well. She’d locked the three of them up while trying to convince Xander to ‘see the light.’

“Ante up.” The card game resumed amidst the sound of teeth chattering.

“I’m out of candy corn.” Giles said, staring down at his rather good hand.

“Me too. Sorry, Anya. Game’s over.” Spike added.

“Um, what about something else? Like favors. We can play for favors or something. Or strip poker. You’d be cute naked. Xander said so.”

Giles choked. He did not want to see Spike naked. He did not want to find out what Anya considered a favor either. Before he could decline, Spike answered.

“Favors, pet. Don’t fancy giving Rupert here a heart attack.” The vampire shuffled and dealt out another hand, declaring the single hand winner take all.

“Show’em.” Spike said.

Giles tipped his hand, obviously confident. “Three kings.”

Spike smirked. “Sorry, mate. Full house.”

Anya grinned. “Um, Spike? Royal straight flush.” Indeed, the ex-demoness had a perfect hand. The two men groaned in unison.

“How the hell do you do that?” Spike asked testily.

Anya laughed. “Me to know, you to ask my old boss. Time to pay up, boys…” The two men looked at each other nervously. Anya could be very inventive.

“Giles, do you remember that art sale we went to last week?” Giles nodded cautiously. “I want you to go back and buy me that painting.” Giles groaned in disgust.

“Anya, I really don’t think a glow-in-the-dark painting of Elvis on velvet is ‘high art.’” Spike cackled at the statement. The Watcher would never get over the humiliation of purchasing such an item.

“Spike?” The vampire sobered instantly. “You have such a nice, rich baritone…” Spike sank deeper into the cushions. How did she know?

“Dwight Yoakam.” The vampire shook his head violently. No way. He was not going to sing for them. Not country music.

“Now, Spike.” The tone of voice left no room for argument. Sighing, Spike stood, his eyes closed to his smirking audience.

“Girl, you taught me how to hurt real bad and cry myself to sleep…”