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Real Romance

By Rach

Pairing: Anya/Spike
Rating: PG
Summary: Anya and Spike hang out more often that everyone realises.
Spoilers: Anything up to Once More With Feeling.
Notes: Written for Voleuse for the Anya Ficathon, who requested Anya/Spike friendship fic. Thanks to Christie for the beta!

“So, what are you gonna do about it?” Spike took a swig of his beer as he passed another to Anya.

“I don’t know.” She sighed, taking the bottle from Spike. “I mean, I guess it was nice, really, what he did.”

“Yeah, and what colour is my hair in those rose-tinted specs of yours?”

Anya stopped, mid-gulp. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Spike paused and Anya shook her head. “I guess not. Anya, love, he didn’t have enough faith in your relationship that it would last without finding out the future. The whole point is that you don’t know – what risk is there if you know?”

“Why does it always have to be about risk? He showed he loved me by wanting to make sure we’d be happy.”

“And what would he have done if it had turned out things weren’t going to work out? Forgot the whole thing and ran for the hills? Yeah, real romantic.”

Anya considered this. “You have a point.”

“Of course I have a bloody point! What, did you think I was just talking to give my mouth some exercise?!”

“Well, you have been known to do that in the past.”

Spike opened his mouth to protest, but instead gulped down the rest of his beer and made do with glaring at Anya. “Besides, once you know the future, it’s never gonna work out like that.” Spike shrugged. “You’re going to make different decisions than you would if you didn’t know, so you might as well have never found out in the first place.”

A silence followed that outburst, and Anya wondered if there was something he wasn’t telling her. Then she realised that this was Spike, he was hardly the most trustworthy creature; there were probably a lot of things he wasn’t telling her. After a few minutes of silence, Anya opened her mouth to speak, deciding a change of subject was the best policy. “So what did you sing about?”

Spike turned to look at her. “What?”

“Buffy said you sang. What did you sing about? Was it a breakaway pop hit, or something more of a book number? You didn’t answer me yesterday.”

Ignoring the first part of the question, Spike looked incensed that she’d even had to ask the second part. “It was good solid rock, thank you very much, none of that sugary pop crap for me.” He paused. “How about you?”

“Not until you answer me properly. What did you sing to Buffy about?”

“Look, woman, I let you come to my crypt, I share my beer and my time with you, but if you’re just going to sit here firing stupid questions at me, you can get out.”

Anya held her hands up. “Alright! Fine! I won’t say anything else!”

“Good.”

Anya nodded. “Good.”

Spike waited a minute or two. “You can, y’know, speak. I didn’t mean you had to be completely silent…”

“Oh thank God! It was killing me!” Anya laughed and Spike smiled at her. “So why exactly *do* you let me come here?”

Spike shrugged. “Everyone needs somewhere to get away to sometimes.” He sighed. “And if I’m completely honest, you’re not the worst company I’ve ever had.”

Anya thought about that for a second. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Good,” Spike nodded. “What about you? What makes you want to spend your evenings in a crypt with a bitter, non-evil vampire?”

“Like you said, it’s somewhere to get away to. Change of scenery. Change of company.”

“If I were still evil, that would be one of the most insulting things you could have said to me. Implying that I’m good company.”

“But if *I* were still evil, then you wouldn’t think so.”

“True.” Spike smiled a little. “So if I’m ever in the neighbourhood, and I’m feeling a little evil, and you’re feeling a little evil … we could hook up and do some evil together?”

“Sure.” Anya nodded cheerfully, and then leant towards him. “You know that’s never going to happen, right?”

Spike sighed. “Yeah. A vampire can dream, though.” He reached for another beer. “So, how’s Buffy doing, after the big reveal yesterday?”

“Oh, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, everyone’s so worried about Buffy.”

Spike stared at that. “Well, yeah. You pulled her out of heaven and brought her back here to kill demons all over again; I should think that’s something for you to at least feel a bit bad about, don’t you?”

“I just think everyone else can concentrate on Buffy, I have a wedding to plan, and you know that if we hadn’t done something we’d all be dead by now anyway – we were absolutely terrible at the slaying!”

“And we’re back where we started. Yes, you have a wedding to plan, a wedding to someone who isn’t confident that they’re even doing the right thing in planning said wedding!”

“Oh, Spike, will you shut up?” Anya stood up in frustration.

Spike grinned wickedly. “I’m getting to you, aren’t I?”

“No,” Anya huffed.

“Yes, I am! I’m getting to you, because you’re not sure you want to be saddled with a glorified brick-layer-“

“Will you stop calling him that?”

“-for the rest of your life, when you could have something a bit more your style.”

“Oh, and what exactly is my style?”

Spike shrugged and gestured to himself. “Something a bit more like this.”

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