Ever wondered about
Anya's terrible rabbit phobia? It always seemed like a nice, juicy plot bunny,
so I decided to write a little story. At first, I hoped to write something
poignant - heart wrenching, even…then I remembered I was writing about bunnies.
Post Tabula Rasa
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine.
P.S. No bunnies were harmed in the writing
of this story
Rated PG15 for sexual references, but no
clothes are actually shed in this story!
The Terrible Truth
About Bunnies
He was an oddity in a
sea of teenagers, and they all knew it. Vacuous school kids they might be, but
every last one of them had been through an unusually `hellish' education. From
the paleness of his skin, to the scruffy leather jacket he wore, everything
about him screamed `looking for lunch'. Undisturbed, he sat at his empty table;
a nearly drained glass in his hand, a near full bottle in front of him.
She had decided it was all his fault, of course. He was an evil, naughty
vampire, taking advantage of the poor, defenceless, virtuous slayer. It was
amazing how she managed to conveniently forget that it was she who slammed him
up Against the wall, she who rammed her tongue down his throat…oh bugger it;
this train of thought was getting him nowhere.
Elation warred with
disgust as he slouched in his chair. A few blissful moments, followed by a
barrage of abuse. Once again she had turned the tables on him, leaving him
seething with frustration as she ran from the Bronze, as fast as her little
super powered legs could carry her.
"Penny for
them."
Slowly, his eyes
travelled up, and he suppressed a brief spurt of surprise as he recognised who
it was. "What the bleeding hell, is she doing here?”
"You look like
you ate something which disagreed with you," Anya observed as she slipped
into the chair beside him. "You're not getting your blood from Willy's,
are you? If you are, I'd strongly advise a change of suppliers. The butcher on
"Sorry, luv, I'm
not in the mood for sharing, tonight. What are you doing here, by the way - and
where is your pet carpenter?" he added, scanning the crowd. With one,
usually came the other; you practically needed a crowbar to pry them apart.
"Oh, he's doing
the whole considerate-boyfriend-who-is-good-with-tools thing," Anya airily
informed him, tossing her hair back as she flashed him a smile.
"Huh?"
"He's fixing the
shop window."
"Oh, I see.
Aren't you supposed to be cheering him on, makin' him
a snack or sumthin'?" Spike teased. The chit had
some peculiar ideas about her new role, as a `fiancé'. Personally, he he suspected she might be watching too many daytime soaps.
"Hmmm," came
the noncommittal reply as she leaned forward in her chair, eyeing his scotch
bottle. Taking the hint, he grabbed the arm of a passing waitress and sent her
looking for a glass. "I couldn't bring myself to do it," she
admitted, once the waitress had gone. "After today, it was all I could do
not to run out of there."
"What, you losing
sleep over that mix up with the watcher?"
Curiously, a blush crept up the ex-demongirl's
cheeks. Bloody hell, the chit actually looked embarrassed, she never looked
embarrassed, what was goin' on?
"Oh, that,"
she squeaked. "Oh no, that was nothing…nothing happened…I mean…oh god, the
bunnies!"
Spike raised an
eyebrow as the flood of words poured out of her mouth; the demongirl
was hiding something, he just knew it. The waitress arrived with the extra
glass, and he poured her a measure. "Here, take a swig of this, calm your
nerves."
"Thanks."
Her voice escaped with a high pitched squeak as she grabbed the glass and
downed it.
"Steady on, luv,
you're human now, remember? A fifth of scotch is not good for the stomach
lining – besides, it's my last bottle."
"Oh, don't worry,
I've got plenty of money … I'll lend you some – interest free."
"Right thoughtful
of you, luv," Spike muttered sarcastically.
"Never let it be
said that I can't be generous," Anya said expansively, the sarcasm
floating over her head as she refilled the glass. "Oh yes, this is just
what I needed, something to dull the memory."
"What are
blathering on about now?" After today's little dance with Red's spell, the
last thing he needed to hear about was another memory problem.
A perplexed look
crossed her face, as her eyes tried in vain to focus, the scotch had hit fast.
"What d'ya mean, what am I blatherin’
about?" she asked confusedly. "I'm talking about bunnies, of
course."
"Oh…riiiight…bunnies," drawled Spike, rolling his eyes in exasperation.
As Scoobies went, Anya was usually a bit of alright, but she obviously couldn't
hold her liquor.
"Mmmhm," she uttered. "Mangy, fluffy tailed, long
eared, buck toothed hounds of hell…"
"Actually, luv,
they're rodents."
"My point
exactly," she declared. "They're oversized rats; fluffy, disgusting,
horrible, horrible rats."
"Bloody hell,
woman, I get the bloomin' picture. You don't like
rabbits."
"'S right,"
she mumbled. "I don't, demon spawn, is what they are."
"This comin' from a woman who spent over a millennium with a
wrinkly face," observed Spike.
"Hey! Human
now," she pointed out. "I can make derogatory remarks about demons
any time I want to – it's practically a requirement.
"Is that so,
luv?" Spike grunted, quirking an eyebrow as he watched her hand creep
towards the bottle once again.
"Yes, it is, she
declared. “And bunnies are demon spawn, they may look cuddly, but they
have these devious little pea brained minds which can thwart your every move –
so there!"
A smirk settled on his
lips as he studied his now sizzled companion. "And what brought you to
this conclusion."
"I…I had a little
incident, once," she admitted reluctantly, "Back in my demon days. It
should have been a slam dunk; scorned woman, vengeance wreaked - what could go
wrong, right?"
Curiosity piqued,
Spike nudged the bottle in her direction and watched her pour another glass.
"What did go wrong?"
"I hate
bunnies."
"I think we have
already established that, pet."
"No, you don't
understand, I really hate bunnies."
"Okay, so
maybe getting her liquored up wasn't such a good idea, after all,"
Spike mused, eyeing her hand nursing the already half empty glass.
"They weren't
supposed to be false," she wailed, her voice rising perilously as she lifted
the glass to her lips. "They were supposed to be real!"
"Is that so,
luv," drawled Spike, would the woman ever get to the point? He was
beginning to run low on scotch.
"She told me he'd
been running around on her," she mumbled. "Said he had the libido of
a rabbit, eyes roving over anything that had two legs, so I…."
"What the hell
is going on here?"
"Oh Bloody
hell," thought Spike, exasperated, "Why me?" Leaning
lazily back in his chair, he grinned at Xander slyly. The boy looked like he
was going to burst a blood vessel. "What does it look like, lard-boy; me
and your lady friend are having a little chat about the good ole days."
Nothing like a reference to Anya's pre-human days to get the kid's back up. He
didn't like reminders of his fiancé's vengeance demon past.
"Xander, honey,
what are you doing here," Anya piped up, his presence finally permeating
her alcoholic haze.
"Looking for
you," he replied shortly. "Come on, An, it's time to go home."
"Hold on,
mate," Spike protested. "She hasn't finished her story yet.
"And besides, we
haven't finished the bottle," Anya added.
"I think you've
had enough, An," Xander pointed out reprovingly. "Now, let's go home
before you make a fool out of yourself...
Anya's face darkened
and, for just a moment, Spike felt a small twinge of pity for Xander. The chit
may not be a demon anymore, but something told him she could still make a man
plead for mercy.
"Or maybe I'll
just sit down for a moment," Xander finished lamely; obviously the same
thought had just occurred to him…maybe he wasn't so stupid after all.
"As I was saying,
before I was so rudely interrupted," Anya continued, ignoring
Xander's glowering face as she leaned into Spike conspiratorially. "The
man was obviously a philanderer. A classic case, if you ask me. The man's nose
practically twitched every time a pretty girl walked by. This was
definitely a situation that needed my special expertise." Xander rolled
his eyes, but wisely said nothing.
"So, what was her
wish?" questioned Spike.
"She wished that
every woman he looked at ended up with long ears and a fluffy tail," she
muttered.
"So what’s the
problem?" asked Spike, puzzled. "No offence, luv, but it isn't the
sort of thing nightmares are made of." Out the corner of his eye, he
watched Xander pull his chair closer.
"You don't
understand. The ears and tail were supposed to be real," Anya explained
tearfully. "But something went wrong with the wish, the bloody things were
fake."
"Fake bunny ears
– sounds strangely familiar," Xander muttered aloud.
A little light bulb
went off in Spike's head, "Bloody hell, woman! Surely, you don't
mean…"
"YES," she
roared angrily. "It was him - and I did it! It was supposed to be
vengeance, damn it. Not happy, happy Playboy land."
"Playboy…"
Xander echoed softly, a dazed look plastered on his face as he stared at his
girlfriend in disbelief.
"Bet the girl
wasn't too happy," observed Spike.
FINIS
HOMEPAGE ¦ HIGHLANDER FICTION
¦ BUFFY/ANGEL
FICTION ¦ IMAGE
GALLERY ¦ FEEDBACK