Staring in the mirror, twiddling blond locks of hair through her fingers, was almost as exasperating as staring at the Magic Box's accounting book, twirling a pencil through her fingers.  Either way, it was painfully obvious that something was missing.  A large diamond on her fourth finger, to be exact.  She put both hands in front of her and evaluated them curiously.  How could they look so different without the ring?  Why did she feel like a finger was missing instead of a finger ornament?

She sighed petulantly and turned away from the mirror.  She was dying to talk to someone.  It had been two weeks since she had seen or spoken to any member of the Scooby Gang.  She was avoiding them on principal.  They would, no doubt, either feel sorry for her or feel as though she'd injured Xander.  After all, he wasn't married either.  And she'd seen enough heartbreak as a Justice Demon to know it was usually a two-sided thing.  Undoubtedly, each felt they were more hurt than the other.  Hence, the vengence wishes.  Anya wished she could wish bad on Xander.  But she couldn't.  And she was tired of sitting around, contemplating why that was.  She was rapidly tiring of the self-induced pity party, and needed some company, stat.  Someone who wouldn't look at her like she would break in half if they spoke.  Someone who wouldn't keep purposely not saying "Xander", even though they were still friends.  Who could that be?  Her demon friends wouldn't understand.  They had warned her from the get-go.  And all of the Scoobies were so busy plastering fake smiles on their faces, they probably didn't have the brain power left to talk.  She could see that much with her new-improved Justice Demon orb-vision.  When she had accepted D'Hoffryn's offer of a brand new pendant, she thought it would quell the loss of her beloved ring.  After waiting months for Xander to let her wear it, she had never taken it off, save for the time she had thrown it at Giles.  But that was under a spell, and therefore, totally not worthy of mention.  Even the money wasn't undoing the sickening knots in her stomach.  "I have to do something," she said out loud to the empty hotel room.  "And I have to do it now."

When she twirled around in front of the mirror a few minutes later, she already felt a little better.  Time for some good old-fashioned vengence.  Of the literal kind.  No demony-stuff involved.  She had slid her lithe, voluptuos body into the tightest, sexiest dress she owned.  It was slit up to there, and cut down to there.  It had no sleeves and ruffles down every seam.  She looked a little like she was headed for a tango with a modern-day Frank Sinatra.  Ah, Frank.  Someone had once wished she'd tear out his Ol Blue Eyes.  But she couldn't do it.  She had torn his old blue ties instead, and claimed a misunderstanding.  She buckled the strap of the tan stilleto strappy sandals she had added and surveyed the finished product.  Between the silky waves of her freshly curled blond hair and the silver jewelry that covered every square inch of skin, the eyes were drawn everywhere they should be.  Neck, collarbone, cleavage, thigh, ankle tendon.  She knew that gang was headed for the Bronze in a futile attempt to cheer her former love out of his down-trodden reverie.  She fully intended to meet them there.  For some good old-fashioned vengence.  She had waited long enough.

Taking a deep breath before she crossd the threshold into the warm fuzzy lights of the club, she positioned the slit of her skirt a little higher.  She straightened her shoulders, swung her hair, and sauntered in.  The bouncer was too enthralled to even stop her and ask for ID.  That was a good sign.  She shot him a smile, and sashayed over to the bar.  Almost immediately, three strapping college age studs walked over and offered to buy her drink.  She accepted without qualm.  Stupid Xander, she thought, look what you're missing.  I just wanted you because Cordelia had said such spine-tingling things about your stupid kisses and the stupid way you smile when you think no one is looking.  You were never even worthy.  And now you've gone and screwed up the best thing that ever happened to you.  She was jolted out of her daze when one of the guys asked her to dance.  She accepted and set her drink on tabletop.

The song had changed from the slow beginning chords to a sultry drum ladden rhythm, perfect for grinding.  She allowed the dark-haired hunk to draw her to him and slip a possessive hand around her waist.  She instinctively placed one leg between his two and dipped and swayed to the beat.  She could feel the eyes of every testosterone-fueled glance in the place.  She responded by rubbing her pelvis against his and running her hands up and down his back, stopping teasingly short of his hair and taut butt.  When she turned around to press her own firm bottom against his crotch, she realized a certain pair of eyes looking mockingly her way.  She stiffened the slightest bit , but continued her seductive grind against College Boy with brand new aplomb.  The man in question, with the smallest cocky smile on his face, licked his bottom lip and started her way.

He stood directly in front of her, causing her to stop dancing and swallow the abrupt urge that had crawled into her throat.  He reached around her and pushed the other guy out of the way.  "If you wanted to make Idiot Boy jealous, why didn't you just ask, luv?" he whispered in her ear, simultaneously sliding his hands around her hips and pressing them into his.  All breath had escaped her and she couldn't quite figure out how to get it back.  Spike had always been some ungodly version of sexy to her, but she had convinced herself she was in love with Xander.  Now, she was beginning to feel the pull of his irrefutably delicious lips and icy blue eyes.  She wanted to yell at him to stop, stop that, stop making her feel that way.  Unfortunately, due to his closeness and the distinctive smell of some instant-panty-dropping cologne, she just let him sway her to the gutteral sound of the guitar.  They let the music take them over and the dance floor cleared as everyone stopped to watch the forbidden dance done in its sexiest incarnation since Buffy had teased Xander into a fury when she came back from summer break the first time.  The spotlight trained on them, but they didn't even notice.  Wrapped up in each others arms, the rest of the world had disappeared.  Anya opened her eyes and looked into Spike's smouldering gaze.  Then her gaze was diverted to a group of open-mouthed people behind his head.

There stood the Scoobies, gaping at the spectacular that was Anya and Spike.  Willow, Dawn and Tara's tongues had all fallen to the floor.  Buffy looked horrified, then abruptly turned on a heel and ran out.  Xander, well Xander looked like someone had ripped out his intestines and was holding them up for everyone to see.  That look was replaced by one of indistinctable rage.  anya let go of Spike, who turned to see what had caught her attention and held it away from him.  Xander was glaring daggers at him and started in his direction, jaw trembling and fists clenched.  Anya ran to intecept his path.  "Don't," she cried.  "You leave him alone.  He didn't do anything.  it was me.  I wanted to feel HIM in MY arms.  So, you wanna be mad, be mad at me.  Or just walk away like you tend to."  At this direct to the gut barb, Xander stared at her with an expression that hurt her more than it hurt him.  Betrayal.  Then, he slowly backed away from her and left.  Spike surveyed the scene before him, shrugged, and started to leave himself.  Anya stopped him halfway.  "Take me to your place," she pleaded.  He stared at her, shocked and a litlte flattered.  He took her arm and led her outside.  "Now, look here, luv," he said, "I'm all for making that useless lump of coal angry, but I don't want him to kill me.  Chip, remember.  Chip no like Spike if Spike hits Harris.  You'll have to use someone else, pet."  He ran a hand through her hair and kissed her forehead.  "Don't worry.  I'm sure that little diddy did the trick."  He took off in the direction of the Summers residence, no doubt to see what the Slayer was up to.  He'd have a fight of his own on his hands when he got there.  so she let him go.

When she arived hom, lump firmly in throat, she stooped down to take off her shoes.  Before she had fully unbuckled the left one, the tears started to flow.  Xander had left her.  Spike wouldn't take her home.  The college boys were probably too chicken to step in after her little show with Spike on the dance floor.  Where did that leave her?  Alone.  Again.  She sank into a pile on the floor and cried.  And cried.  And cried.  Then, she suddenly looked up.  She didn't need to cry.  Xander couldn't be that stupid.  He would come back.  She just had to be patient and wait.  She would wait for him to come to his senses and return to her, on bended knees.  Then, she would make him suffer, forgive him, make him buy her many "I'm sorry" presents, and everything would be fine again.  That's it.  She would wait.  concentrate on the Magic Box and the money.  And he'll come back.  Soon.  If he was feeling anything like she was, he couldn't live with out her.  Waiting is good.  Let him suffer.  Then he'll know better than to ever hurt her feelings again.

She changed into jammies and took out the accounting books once more.  she took a deep breath and started to add up the columns of numbers.  Two minutes later, she was staring into space, twidling a strand of hair around one finger.  If only waiting didn't take so long...