Sitting here listening to her woe-is-me tale bores me, if I were going to tell the truth. I've heard so many tales like it, seen so many good women initiated in my line of work because of it. Tales of heartbreak, woe, revenge. Nothing new here.

She's disheveled and has been crying. I can't say that I blame her, I suppose. I've heard worse things than being left at the altar, but I've also heard much weaker excuses. My boyfriend forgot my birthday, my husband snores at night. You name it, we justice demons have heard it.

"And so Spike was there, and he listened, he understood. Maybe it was the whiskey, but I needed someone, and he was there....Hallie, what have I done?"

I didn't expect to hear that.

"What exactly have you done, Anyanka?"

Fresh tears spring to her eyes. "I slept with Spike."

It's deja vu. Is this really happening?

"You. Slept. Uh, with Spike."

Anyanka nods.

======================

*he was no good for you anyway, cecily. bloody git. didn't know how good he had it*

crying. lots of tears. hitching sobs.

*you really think so, william?*

*yeah, i do.*

kissing, sweat, and mind-blowing sex.

======================

I can't speak. For once, I have nothing to say.

Anyanka is still crying (*hitching sobs*) and I reach out to pat her hand. History repeating
itself. William. Broken heart, sympathy, and whiskey.

Seeing him at the Slayer's house was a bit of a shock, after all these years. I was in London on holiday, he was still human, and we met through mutual friends. One night, I caught my suitor, a strapping young man whose name I can't even remember, in a passionate embrace with the maid. William was convenient. A few years later, I caught word that he was dead. By that time, I had entered this line of work.

Anyanka's sobs sound too familiar to me, and I'm having to remind myself that this is indeed the twenty-first century. William is Spike now, and Cecily is Halfrek the justice demon. Anyanka is the heartbroken one, and I am just a friend here to comfort her.

I feel ill.

=============================

the rush to put on clothes, having him tie my corset, fixing my hair and smoothing down his.

*you, uh, might want to button that top collar button*

*why...oh.*

the smell of desperation and regret hangs in the air, and his way of avoiding my glance tells me i'm still as lonely and hurt as when we began.

*i should be getting back*

*i think i'll walk you out.*

=============================

"Xander knows." Anyanka has taken to whispering, and I barely hear this.

"How?" Did she tell him? I never told my own suitor. He found out through that same maid, who heard it from a kitchen maid, who heard it from who knows.

"He...I don't know. He just knew."

"He has no right to be upset. Is he upset?"

"Furious." This last is whispered so low that she may have just mouthed it.

I have nothing to say, nothing that might help. She's not just sad because she's hurt Xander, but because she feels dirty. She feels like she isn't herself, like she's betrayed him and betrayed herself.

She is me and I'm reliving a night so old even the memory comes oil painted.

"What am I going to do, Hallie?"

I shrug and grip her hand a little tighter.

"We'll talk to D'Hoffryn, I suppose. Don't worry, Anyanka. There are ways to fix everything. You were wronged."

"Was I? Or was it me that did the wronging? Hallie, you didn't see his face."

"But he left you standing at the altar! He hurt you, Anyanka. Never trust a man. Not Xander or Spike or anyone. They'll just you use to get what they want and throw you away."

=============================

*how could you, cecily? after all i've done for you,all i promised you, you let that street rat touch you, that filth?*

he hits me, furious. betrayed.

but he betrayed me first. and i spit in his face.

the smell of revenge on the air, of sweet, sweet revenge, and somewhere, d'hoffryn was already sensing potential in me.

hell hath no fury.