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Bunnies

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Summary: A possible what if to explain Anya's fear of bunnies...set in S4 post epi Fear Itself. Think Eww with a bit of funny.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
BtVS/AtS Non-Crossover > General(Past Donor)WhedonistFR1812,6630193113 May 0813 May 08Yes
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from BtVS. The one original character in this is mine even though she only appears for one scene. Buffy and the rest belong to Joss Whedon, ME Production and others that I don’t know.

A/N: An idea that crept up on me while riding Splash Mountain at Disneyland (don’t ask how, just roll with it). Finally got it on to “paper” for your entertainment. Thanks to my wonderful beta. The sun shines out his bum if you are ever asked.

Also, he had said, “It's just a pity that with Buffy's injuries largely unexplained and it isn't part of a larger story where it could have made a nice amusing break from an otherwise much darker time. It stands on its own though so it would make a nice introduction to your writing on a new site. Just tidy up a couple of places where your brain (?) has run ahead of your fingers and it will be fine.”

Now that also allows for some thought. I had never intended to make this a full blown story just a small snippet, offering an explanation to Anya’s fear of bunnies. To my knowledge it had never been fully addressed in the show, so I figured what the hay and why not. If any of you would like to expound on this than feel free, just let me know.

Feedback: Always. Good, bad, etc…you can leave it here or email me.

Bunnies

“Buffy, baby.” Willow tried to smooth down some of the blood matted hair on the blonde’s forehead as she gazed worriedly at her lover. “Can you hear me?”

“W-w-willow?” Buffy’s voice was soft and raspy. Her eyes fluttered open and she squinted trying to filter out the harsh light that invaded her senses. She tried to look around and noticed that she was lying on a couch. The second thing to register was the mask on the far wall of Giles’ apartment. “What?” she asked her voice thick.

Willow leaned down and placed a feather light kiss on the uninjured left temple of her lover as she mentally thanked every deity that she could name off the top of her head that Buffy seemed to be okay. “What do you remember?”

Buffy struggled to sit up, but the mighty fist of nausea slammed into her gut causing the room to spin. Deciding that lying down seemed to cause her body to protest the least, she stayed as she was. “Well… there was that horrible Halloween party then I remember hitting up St. Paul’s to blow off steam. What happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Anya’s disembodied voice rang in Buffy’s ears.

Buffy sighed mildly irritated as the woman came around the couch and sat in the recliner. She rolled her eyes as she took in Anya’s bunny costume. She still couldn’t believe that was what the 1000 year old ex-vengeance demon had chosen to wear. Of all the things Anya had seen and done and probably partied with, a bunny terrified her the most? Sense that was not filled the injured slayer’s brain.

“You just run off after one little quarrel with your precious Willow. You know slayer, things like that will get you killed.” Anya rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair across from her. Propping her paws on the coffee table, the bunny continued, “It’s actions like that that make vengeance demons necessary. So, you and Willow argue, why can’t you just have angry make up sex like the rest of the human population? And really it’s not just the humans that do it. I once knew a regurgitating Pollux demon that broke three legs and his second right arm during a rowdy session with Hallie.”

Buffy was about to tell Anya to shut the hell up when Willow jumped in for her, “Anya, is there a point to this? I’m trying to make sure my girlfriend is ok.”

Anya sent a scathing glare in Willow’s direction and decided to ignore the redhead’s attitude. “Yes, there is a point. What I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, is that it’s your darling Buffy, doing stupid things like getting herself knocked around in the heat of a foolish lover’s quarrel, that creates the need for vengeance. Next time you two, work it out the old fashioned way.”

Willow knew she shouldn’t have responded. She should have listened to the voice in her head that screamed at her, but the voice was two seconds too late as she retorted, “And the old fashioned way would be?”

“Multiple orgasms against a wall with bruises that last for days. Nothing beats a good argument like a good angry fuc…” Anya’s words were muffled by Xander’s hand clamped firmly over mouth.

“Ahn,” Xander’s voice was full of concern. While Willow’s face matched the shade of her hair, it was the deadly look in her eyes that made Xander spring to action. “Willow, she jokes, she kids,” he laughed nervously.

The witch just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Buffy, “Do you remember anything after hitting the cemetery?”

Buffy’s eyes opened again at the sound of Willow’s voice. “Not so much. I just remember me running out of our dorm room wanting to rip something’s head off.”

Willow looked away sheepishly. Guilt marring the usually pretty features of the witch, she forced herself to look into the battered face of her girlfriend. “I’m sorry,” Willow whispered.

“Oh, Wills, you… I was being the dumb one and you were right.” Buffy’s eyes filled up with tears as she remembered the accusations her lover had yelled at her in the haunted frat house.

“No, I wasn’t Buffy.” Willow cradled Buffy’s left cheek with her hand and wiped away a few errant tears. “It was the house and it made me feel all of these awful things, but I don’t think I’m your sidekick. I know that you trust me.”

“Baby, stop. Okay. That stupid little demon may have been… stupid and little, but it was sorta right.” Buffy looked away from the intense green eyes and focused on the touch of Willow’s hand before continuing, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” Buffy’s admission was hushed, “I couldn’t… if something happened to you, I’d be well, I just couldn’t. That’s all.”

“Oh for the love of Shax, both of you are sorry,” Anya blurted out as soon as Xander’s hand left her mouth. “Now Willow, just give the slayer here a couple of hours and then go have your twisted lesbian sex in Giles’ spare bedroom.”

“I think not!” Giles piped up from behind the couch. Willow looked up at the man sitting in his sombrero at the desk. “There will be no sex in my home unless I’m the one having it.”

Willow’s mouth dropped open and she repressed a comment as Giles whipped his glasses off and began cleaning them with the handkerchief that magically appeared in his hand. “W-what I, that is to say, what I had intended was that, the lot of you need to get out of my bloody flat if you are going to, er, uhm.”

“Giles, I’m begging you not to finish that sentence,” Willow pleaded.

Giles’ blush deepened as he replaced his glasses. Turning a concerned look to Buffy, he queried, “Buffy are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, just sore.” Buffy gingerly sat up to lean against the arm of the couch. Making room so Willow could snuggle up against her, she waited while Willow moved into the spot.

Willow leaned into the blonde and reached for her lover’s open hand. “Anya,” Willow tried her best to not laugh, but a giggle escaped as she asked, “I didn’t get to ask, but a bunny?”

“Yeah, Anya,” Buffy cut in, “That costume raises my hand in question.”

“I will have you know that bunnies are rather fearsome and evil creatures,” said Anya folding her fur covered arms across her chest. Scowling at the two lovers across from her, she began explaining, “There are quite a number of my people, well demons that used to be my people that are scared of them.”

“I think,” Xander interrupted, “that I speak for everyone when I say, huh?”

A spark of glee lit up Anya’s face as she realized that they were actually asking for a story from her. She took a look at the expectant faces and began, “It starts like every good vengeance story does, with a scorned woman. It was,” Anya looked up absently at the ceiling trying to remember the year, “it was I think, the early 1300’s. The Irish countryside and their heathen ways, ah, such good times.”

***Bunnies, bunnies. It must be bunnies***

“You found him then, with his pets?” Anyanka asked. It was too good to be true. The girl had walked into her open arms seeking the comfort that her shoulder held. The demon squeezed tighter as another round of sobs shook the small form causing the girl to bury further into the crook of her arm. And here she had thought it was going to be a boring day.

“H... h... h... heee was. It is unholy… I did not think that he,” Tilde cried into her friend’s shoulder. She couldn’t believe what she had seen. All Tilde had wanted to do was take her husband lunch. She had even prepared a decent stew so that he wouldn’t be so hungry when supper came around.

As she had turned the corner to the rabbit pen, her only reaction to seeing her husband grunting and sweating as his hips thrust into the medium sized rabbit he held at crotch level was to drop the tray of food and run as fast and as far as she could.

“He what?” Anyanka encouraged.

“I can’t say it. I just can’t.”

“Very well then, Tilde. If you could though, if you could wish one thing on him what would it be?”

The disheveled girl looked up into understanding brown eyes. “I… I wish he… he could feel what his precious pets were!”

Anyanka’s visage morphed into her true form and she bellowed, “Done!”

***Bunnies, bunnies. It must be bunnies***

The small village of Liduff smoldered in the wake of the attack. Homes burned as their occupants, women, children, and men, especially the men, lay broken and bleeding or dead. As Anyanka surveyed the damage the wish had brought, a smile swept over her features. She strolled through a ravaged home reveling in the bloodshed. In the first room she entered, a small child lay with his neck bent at an odd angle while a pool of blood surrounded the lower portion of the child’s body.

In the back of the house, lay what she assumed to be the mother. She was no better off than her son. An arm had been ripped clean off and rested against the wall that it had been thrown against. Deep red and brown streaks indicated the point of impact for the flying appendage. The body was face down and the clothes were torn and tattered exposing the woman’s ravaged and clawed back.

She turned from the bodies and left the house. This little wish was sure to earn her praise from D’Hoffryn. She was nearly sure of it. Just into dusk, the air was cool and pleasing to the vengeance demon. The screams in the distance only added to her growing good mood. She strolled casually between the few buildings in that part of the village.

“Anyanka,” D’Hoffryn’s unmistakable voice came to her from a shadowed alcove.

“Yes?” she responded.

“I just wanted to stop in and see how everything was going here.” He emerged from the shadows and took her hand. “My dear child, it looks amazing. I do say this might be some of your best work yet.”

“I would think so. The body count is still climbing after all.” She beamed at her boss.

They walked together through the town as the last rays of the sun disappeared. They stopped at the pub and even had a drink to toast such a successful wish, but it was when they were leaving the establishment that the demons were attacked. Both of them were carried down to the ground as paws clawed at their bodies and teeth gnashed to try and draw blood.

Anya cried out in pain as the claws of one of the mutated rabbits tore into her shoulder. The fur grated against her exposed skin and she struggled against the supernaturally strong muscles of the animal. The most disturbing thing was that it made no sound, no whimper, no growl as it writhed against her. The only sounds filling the air were of ripping clothing and her own and D’Hoffryn’s screams of terror. She looked up into bright black eyes and watched as the moist nose bounced up and down sniffing her. The ears were floppy and hung at the sides of its head in an almost comically innocent way.

She kicked and struggled under the enormous weight of the beast, but failed to dislodge it from its perch atop her. She was powerless as strong, lean muscled paws forced her further in to the earth...

***Bunnies, bunnies. It must be bunnies***

“Anya, I can’t really tell you how much I don’t want you to finish that story,” Buffy interrupted. Willow had sunk further into her as Anya’s story continued and Buffy, herself, had reached her breaking point.

Anya’s mouth hung open with an unfinished word. She shrugged and said, “If you didn’t want to know you shouldn’t have asked.”

“Ahn, it didn’t actually…” Xander stopped afraid to know the answer to the unfinished question.

The costumed ex-demon turned to her boyfriend and patted the hand that rested on her arm reassuringly. She grinned and said, “It didn’t, but D’Hoffryn was none too pleased when we got away.” Her gaze drifted back to the two on the couch causing her to roll her eyes. “Xander, Buffy’s better now, can we go home and have sex.”

The two girls sprung apart and Willow wiped her lower lip. “For goddess sake, can you…forget it.” Willow let out. Turning to her girlfriend, she ran her fingertips gingerly over the bruises on Buffy’s face and asked, “You ready to go?”

Buffy leaned into the caress and nodded. She bent forward into Willow’s neck and whispered, “Ready for other things too.” She pulled back and smirked at her lover’s blush.

“Right, then, we should go. Can you walk?” Willow asked, getting up from the couch.

“Good to go.”

“I’ll see you all on Friday evening then?” Giles asked, as he ushered the two couples out of his door. Murmurs of consent were given all around and he watched as his charges and Anya disappeared around the corner. He closed the door thankful that the night had finally ended.

***Bunnies, bunnies. It must be bunnies***

Buffy tossed her shoes in the direction of the closet as soon as she got them off. She looked over at Willow who was in the process of undressing. Feeling cheated, she whined, “Hey, that’s my job.”

The redhead turned to her clad in her jeans and bra with one hand behind her back getting ready to undo the clasps. “I thought I’d save you some trouble.” Mischief danced in her eyes as she walked over to the blonde. Her hands took up a resting position on Buffy’s shoulders pulling the two together. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Better than I was earlier. My heads still kinda jumbly, but I think I’ll live.” She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on expectant lips. Pulling back, she searched Willow’s face, asking, “Do you believe Anya’s story?”

“It explains lots. Really, I’m not sure how to file that away.”

“Uh?”

“Well, do I file it under cautionary tales for the jilted lover or cautionary tales for the sexually perverted?” Willow wiggled her eyebrows and steered Buffy to their bed.

Biting her lower lip in thought, Buffy decided on an answer, “Maybe both.”

The witch snaked her hands under Buffy’s shirt and began a slow caress of the slayer’s stomach. Delighting in the way her lover responded to her touch, Willow began undressing the blonde while trying to kiss each inch of flesh being exposed.

Breathless, Buffy managed one last comment before pleasure fogged her brain, “Gotta admit, Anya was right on the make up sex. Gonna have to make up this way more often.”

The End

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