Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Sadly.
A/N: This is a response to The Guild of the Fantastic Quill’s Friday the 13th One-Shot Challenge. Word prompts used were “knight,” “witch,” and “flood(ing).” And my luck topic is, well, obvious. Enjoy.
Anya stood against the closed door, a broom clenched in both hands and a painful looking scowl across her face. She braced against the grain of the wood, her slipper-clad feet spread to resist a powerful charge from the quiet hallway outside. A glance toward the stationary door knob seemed to cool her nerves. She huffed, blowing a curl out of her face.
The ex-demon rolled her eyes at the apartment around her before bursting her other lung. "Alexander LaVelle Harris, get your tight butt in here right now!"
A groggy-looking Xander slid out of the bedroom, a sharpened baseball bat in one hand.
“What happened?” he slurred, tripping over his feet and stumbling toward his girlfriend.
“My knight in gray boxers,” Anya snorted. “It’s daylight, Harris—get it together,” she snapped, a pointed look at the bat.
“Honey,” Xander strained, “a stake through the heart works on most things. And the heavy, bat
shape helps in beating to a pulp.”
“Just put it down and come here,” Anya urged, stepping away from the door cautiously. She held the broom out and Xander took it, sitting the bat against the wall. “Get rid of.”
Anya jerked around. “Where?”
“No mouse. I just—what am I getting rid of?”
Anya shuttered. Looking toward the door again, she backed away, letting Xander approach. “I heard something outside the door. When I opened it, there was a promising little gift bag hanging from the handle. . .” Her eyes were distant, as if in remembrance of something dreadful. She shook her head. “It was a small bag, almost the size of those little gift card bags they have in department stores. So I thought, ‘how fortunate—someone has finally decided to reward me fair neighborliness with a monetary reward.’ I looked down at the label. There wasn’t a name, but it said ‘Good Luck!’” Anya caught her mouth with her hand, as if holding back a sob. “And then I looked and. . .it. . .”
Xander’s eyes were wide. He touched Anya’s shoulder tenderly. “What was it?”
She shrugged off his hand. “Oh—will you just get rid of it!”
Holding the broom as if it were a lance, he reached out for the door knob and took a step back to let it swing wide. The yellow bag was sitting on its side, a foot away, the white tissue paper spilling from it. Three feet from the package sat another small object the length of a man’s thumb and covered in soft, pink-dyed fur.
Xander bent down, snatching up the charm by the chain on one end. “It’s a rabbit’s foot,” he announced.
A hateful hiss filtered out from inside the apartment.
“It’s a threat,” Anya noted. “From a witch. Or a bunny.”
Xander released an anxious breath. “Honey, it’s Friday the 13th. Mrs. Riser from 307 made a comment about your thoughts on marriage last week, and I told her that you came from a superstitious family.” He winced, almost feeling the need for vengeance flooding out into the hallway. “It’s just a good luck charm.”
“I’m not stupid,” Anya snapped, “I knew that. But it’s still a disgusting bunny part.”
With a slight smile Xander walked back toward the doorway. “You know what it represents, right?”
Anya glared at him. “I’m warning you, Harris.”
“It’s a maimed rabbit,” Xander continued, “which would be a decent sign to all other rabbits to beware the owner.”
The blonde cocked her head, suddenly interested in the charm. “Like impaling your victims for the neighboring village to see?”
Xander hesitated before nodding along. “Head on a stick, very similar.” He paused. “Do you still want me to throw it out?”
“A cranial fence is very effective.” Anya rolled her eyes. “I guess. . .” her voice lowered, “you could maybe just hang it on the door knocker, outside, where I don’t have to look at it.”
Xander smiled. “But where the bunnies can see it.”
She smiled slightly. “Just wash your hands when you’re done.” Anya stepped toward the kitchen, stopping midway. “So, I guess you can’t get lucky on Friday the 13th?”
Xander slipped the chain over the handle, slamming the door shut behind him. “I think that’s the whole point, fighting the odds. Getting lucky.” He smiled suggestively. “ Now that we’ve gotten rid of bunnies for the day, I think there’s nothing stopping us from that goal.”
Anya stopped at the bedroom, her grin fading. “Don’t you work on Fridays?”
Xander noted the sun shining through the window. “Damn.”
“Watch for bunnies.”