Miss America by Mary

"Hello?"

Anya looked up, eyes red and bleary. "...what?"

Buffy wrapped her arms around her stomach tightly. "Oh. I was just...I was wondering if Spike was still here."

Anya didn't respond; she simply guzzled deeply from the amber bottle.

Buffy hesitated, then joined Anya at the table. "Got any more of that?"

Anya handled over the bottle, still silent.

"I think Xander hates me, now," Buffy blurted awkwardly.

Anya laughed bitterly. "You don't have a clue, do you? You're their idol." She choked, just a little. "And I'll only ever be your first-runner-up."

Buffy's mouth opened for an instant in surprise, and Anya leaned forward. The kiss reminded her of Spike's - primal, unrestrained, just painful enough. It took her a moment to remember to pull away. She tasted blood on her tongue.

Anya walked away unsteadily. "...doesn't kiss *that* well."

.End