TITLE: Like Dirty Water God He's Awful
AUTHOR: Ragna (writinggoddess@aol.com)
RATING: FRT, heavy language
CLASSIFICATION: Spike/Anya bickering
SPOILERS: Set in a later season
DISTRIBUTION: Slay This, Other sites with my fic up. Everyone else just keep my name on it and let me know.
DISCLAIMER: If you don't recognize it, chances are it's my own creation. If you do, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kazui Sandollar, FOX and the WB own it or them. I'm just holding Spike hostage. Carolyn's got Xander, May's got Oz, Cathryn's got Ethan, Nikki's got Giles and Shelly has Angel. Gillian, for the hell of it, has Ewan McGregor, but she shares with Rae. You may see them by appointment only. The song is "Awful" by Hole. It's on their kick-ass Celebrity Skin album.
FEEDBACK: Sorry I'm not home right now I'm walking in the spiderwebs so leave a message and I'll call you back...in other words, I want it. Don't care if it's onlist or not.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This fic's been running through my head for quite a while, just the two of them bickering. I saw the "Awful" video and got inspired. This is also a first fic post to quite a few lists...The title comes from a bit of the lyrics to the song used.

***

The Bronze was in full swing as Spike walked in looking around. Each of the people he worked with was paired of: witch and werewolf, reformed dork and former rat, Slayer and fellow student.

It made him sick sometimes. He glanced up, glad to see Hole break into one of his favorite songs.

If he wasn't a vampire and she didn't have security close by, he'd have shagged Courtney Love in a minute. Course, that wouldn't have stopped him before...

...Why should it now? He decided getting drunk in order to do it was in order, and headed to the bar.

"I want a bloody beer," he told the new bartender. Steve, the old one, had been turned and promptly staked by the Slayer, a fact which made Spike a bit perplexed. Steve had given the vampire free beer.

"ID," the bartender said. Spike vamped out.

"Gimmie the damn beer."

The bartender shook his head. "I. D." he enunciated, not even flinching at the vampire visage Spike now wore.

"I'm over 100 fucking years old, mate. Give. Me. A. Beer. Now."

The bartender stood his ground. "No ID, no beer."

Spike pounded his fist on the counter. "I'm a fucking vampire so give me my fucking beer!" he yelled, still vamped out, pulling the bartender towards him.

At this point a warm hand touched Spikes neck in a choke. "Violence is a male's way of solving everything, isn't it?"

He recognized the voice and let the now scared bartender go to serve up the beer. "Hello, Anya."

"Hello to you too, Spike. Now, aren't you glad I stopped you from draining him like you wanted to? We've already lost one bartender to a vampire." She turned to the bartender. "Make that two beers, okay?"

"I...I need ID," he said in a shaky voice, handing Spike his beer and spilling half of it on himself.

"Mate, I want a full beer, not half of one."

He nodded, taking the mug back. "Do you have ID?" he asked Anya.

"I'm older than him, boy. He's in the hundreds; I'm in the thousands."

"I still need ID."

Anya glared at him then reached out to hit him. Spike grabbed her fists. "Thought violence was a man's way of solving things," he said with a smirk. "I want two beers, mate. Now."

"Well, seems to work for men sometimes," she said, watching the now extremely nervous man draw up another glass.

The beers set in front of them, the two demons sat to watch the band. "I can't believe someone got them to play here," Spike muttered, shaking his head and taking a drink of beer.

"Who are they?" Anya asked, doing the same.

Spike sputtered. "It's Hole! Only one of the greatest bands in the world, currently. Lead singer is Kurt Cobain's widow...any of this ringing a bell?"

"Not really. The song's cool, though."

Spike kept shaking his head. "You're one strange demon, Anya."

"Former demon."

"I keep forgetting that," he admitted, watching the band.

"I've noticed. I keep forgetting your a soulless SOB sometimes, too."

Spike mimicked her. "And I keep forgetting your a soulless SOB sometimes," he said in a falsetto voice. "Where the bloody hell do you get off calling me a bloody SOB?"

"You're male, I'm a male-hating former demon. Do I have to spell it out?"

"You sure seemed interested in Xander for a bit," Spike noted, finishing the beer.

"Well, it was a fluke, I guess," she said, remembering what happened when she left Sunnydale prior to the Ascension.

"Right. I saw the way you looked at him when you got back. Some man hating demon you must have been..."

"And what about you and the Slayer, hmm?" she asked in a sickeningly sweet voice, which he knew was totally fake.

"That's none of your bloody business, woman."

"I saw the way you looked at her all the time. You liked her. And what now?"

"As I said before, none of your bloody business." He looked right at her. "Been fun bickering, but right now I want to be on my way to becoming a lucky groupie tonight. And I mean lucky in every sense of the word."

Anya shook her head and shot him a look of disgust. "You...you male!"

"And you like every minute of being around me, don't you?" he asked leering at her.

"Yeah, sure. You so fucking full of yourself," she muttered, looking away from him.

"Tell me that while looking right at me, love, and I'll leave you alone."

She turned and faced him. "You're. So. Fucking. Full. Of. Yourself," she enunciated, looking right into his eyes.

"And you love it," he said, smirking at her and placing a quick kiss on her lips before melting into the massive crowds.

She sat there in shock for a moment or two. Then...

"I'm going to kill you if you don't give me a glass of Scotch on the rocks. Understand? I want to get drunk."