Categories > TV > Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Emphasis On the Former

Emphasis On the Former

by Lavender 0 reviews

Anya and a hotel. (set during Graduation Day.)

Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Rating: PG - Genres: Humor - Characters: Anya - Published: 2005-08-09 - Updated: 2005-08-09 - 387 words - Complete

emphasis on the former

I can't believe I had to pay for this hotel room.

Back in the good old days, I could threaten the manager with evisceration and get a room in a snap. Now I have to dig through my purse for a credit card just like all the other stupid mortals staying overnight. I don't even get a particularly nice room for my troubles. I'm just shoved into an ordinary little double -- they're out of singles, apparently -- with wet, screaming, highly irritating small children thudding past my door on their ways to and from the pool every five minutes.

I deserve better treatment than this. I am, after all, Anyanka, Fearsome and Respected Vengeance Demon.

...turned lowly Anya No-Last-Name-Thank-You-Very-Much.

I went to a prom/, for pete's sake. And I /enjoyed myself. Normally I'd be skulking around outside, waiting for some hysterical girl to come running outside and beg me to turn her erstwhile boyfriend's hair green, all the while tripping over her poofy gown and ugly shoes.

That actually happened once. The poor girl was a little lacking in imagination, so I turned him into a Chia Pet. I think it was a rather brilliant way to spice things up, personally. D'Hoffryn always liked that about me -- I was creative, he said. "You always manage to put a new spin on things, Anyanka."

What I wouldn't give to meet up with a little vengeance right now. It won't happen, of course. This stupid Holiday Inn is filled with an endless number of happy little couples with 2.5 children taking "much needed" "breaks" from their white picket fences. None of these women are going to join me in commiseration at the bar. No one here is going to remind me why the likes of, say, Xander Harris should be loathed and tortured for their heartless, cowardly, chauvinistic acts.

Their voices in the hallway just remind me of why it's nice to have a pair of warm hands on your waist, and a chest to lean into when you're getting sleepy, and lots of orgasms.

They're certainly not making this horrible sick feeling in my stomach go away.

I suppose it will go away when the world ends and I'm dead. If not...well, I might find myself back at the hellmouth a little sooner than planned.
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