Flicker-flash. Deep indigo light, a shade one might see on heat-treated steel. Like light glimmering on shears as they closed.
"That's my vampire you've got your hands on." Anya lifted her head from the filthy straw. Strength was filling her again, and she held the Norns' shears. In her mind, that was, not her hands, but that was good enough. She dug the shears deep into the infection that marred her arms and poisoned her body, and cut it free. The gangrenous colors began to fade at once.
"What will you do about it, weakling?" The Maiden of the Mirthless Smile sneered at her. "You hurt me once. A little. I hurt you far worse. Now you can't even rise from your deathbed."
Thank you. Xander. "Maybe you're right, you miserable vomitous mass. Maybe I'm only lying here because I haven't got the strength to stand. Maybe it's all a bluff." She gathered all her growing strength into her arms and shoved. Slowly, shakily, she rose to her feet. "Or maybe I have the strength after all." She lifted her fists as the shaking eased. The wounds remained, but at least they weren't bleeding. Anya opened herself to the energy flows of this world, touching a source of power she hadn't felt since becoming human-and it had never felt so immense when she was in D'Hoffryn's service. "Drop. Your. Sword."
The Maiden shoved Spike to the ground and charged. Well, you couldn't win them all.
Chapter 11 - Not Gonna Write You a Love Song
Standing above the Loom of Fate, Ayesha Ura smiled. "What did I tell you again, Chejop? Look. Look what you nearly destroyed."
The widening of Chejop Kejak's eyes was small, but it was perceptible. "Her Essence shouldn't be that powerful. She's visibly rippling the threads, do you see that?"
"Yes, Chejop. I see it." Ayesha had no more idea how the new Sidereal could be this powerful than her rival did, but she would certainly make use thereof. Of course, as soon as he recovered from his shock... "Say, that wasn't by any chance a Throne Shadow charm, was it? An easy one, but think of the potential that implies."
"I see your point. It may have been an unnecessary risk, but that's done with now." His fingers flicked momentarily at the region near the shimmering thread. "And the Deathknight she's fighting is likely too much for her. Too experienced." Chejop rubbed his temples in frustration. "We can't afford to lose her, can we? Dispatch her some assistance. Iron Siaka's in her office, no?"
"Just got back," Ayesha said wryly. Chejop knew that, knew that she'd suggest a Gold Faction member to balance things out. And he didn't care, because two would be a prudent response level for this, and she'd never just let him have this windfall without opposition. "She'll be tired. Crimson Banner Executioner's ready for a new field mission."
Chejop nodded. "Fine. I'll get her. You get him. Have them retrieve that girl at once."
The Maiden charged, and to Anya, the future unfolded like a map. Attack trajectories, paths out of the way, possible responses... The great cleaver of her blade came down, and Anya simply stepped aside, leaving it to cut through the pile of sweaty straw.
Trickles of energy rushed into her, spent almost at once as she lunged. The world flickered around her. Somewhere there was a timeline where she had picked up a sword. Somewhere in another she was wearing chain mail. Those weren't her world...and yet they were. The knife edge of Anya's palm bit into the Maiden's trachea like a blade. She hadn't even thought to dodge.
The Maiden stumbled backwards, rubbing her partially crushed windpipe. "Nice try," she rasped. "Won't underestimate you again, little girl."
Anya forced a snicker. Powers or no powers, the best chance she had here was bravado. Same as before, really. "You won't, huh? Like you weren't going to after I choked you out." She couldn't maintain the laughter. A smirk, then. "Little girl, you say? I was wreaking bloody vengeance before the Scarlet Empress was a twinkle in her mommy's eye. Well...relatively speaking, I mean." Don't fumble. Keep it up. "I've bathed in blood and worn entrails like a dress. I've cast down monarchs and replaced them with genocidal tyrants. They called me Anyanka, Patron Saint of Women Scorned. You? You're nothing to me. You don't rate...little girl. So bring it on. If you dare."
The Maiden's eyes bulged, her pale cheeks turning red with fury. She swung her blade, and Anya stepped aside almost casually. Almost. Each time she evaded the sword, she felt a eush of power. The Maiden was actually trying now. And she did still have that sword. Best to try and end this fast. Anya dropped low and lashed out with a foot. This time her opponent leapt over her.
"I will make you beg for death...Anyanka. Old woman, then. I will make you beg to have died before ever you met me. Pray for mercy, Anya. Pray to me now." The Maiden advanced, sword flashing through an unbreakable pattern. Anya rolled to the side, feeling fate blur around her as that immense blade came down at her throat. The weapon skimmed her neck, nicked her shoulder, and slid away having no more than left a trickle of blood. In many possible realities, that sword had sliced off Anya's head. The Maiden snarled in fury.
Sooner or later, Anya suspected, she was going to get really angry.
"Long story short," Cearr said casually, "is you've wasted a lot of time and effort. Learning the Excellencies of more than one Yozi? Fool move. As simple as that."
"That's not what Sulumor said. Or Cyan." She knew better than to trust Cyan implicitly, but there were things that it was dumb to lie about even to manipulate people with. Unless, of course, you wanted them to die.
"Those girls want to be on your good side cuz the Yozis favor you at the moment, girlie. They'll tell you what you want to hear, long as it doesn't get either of you into too serious of trouble. Me, I don't like you much. I respect you as a fighter, but you aren't my friend or nothin'. So I'll tell you the truth an' nothin' but." The barbarian shrugged and sat a little taller. He was getting better, and fast. "Don't misunderstand me. I'm not sayin' you won't get any use out of doubling up. You will. For one thing, there's powers you need those Excellencies to work. Though, really, if you wanted to go that route you should've gone with Cecelyne. She's got a long useful list. And, yeah, there'll be times when you can switch off and go from subtle to over the top or whatever. Hell, heard a rumor the other day that somebody'd learned how to use necromancy and sorcery at the same time goin' down that road. But seriously, kid, in general it ain't worth it. Lot of trainin' down the tubes for not nearly enough gain."
"But you respect me." He wasn't pinging on the liar scale, but Buffy figured it could be fooled.
"You beat my ass down, girl. Not many people can do that. Anyway, it was a dumb mistake but you didn't have no one telling you what to do. Ever get a voice in your head that helps you out?" He tapped his fingers against his left temple.
Buffy gave him a flat look before shaking her head. "Nothing like that."
"Hmm. Well, they've said you're different somehow. Personal guess is, it's something that happened during that long missing history thing. How long'd you say? Six thousand years of lone Slayer girls? More? Never mind, the point is you weren't trained properly, the way an Infernal should be, which is why you're playin' catch up now, and why you slipped up so bad."
She gave him the slightest acknowledging nod and tried changing the subject. "Nice place you've got here." He had a Malfean palace like the one she'd been promised, and right now they were out on one of its balconies, beneath a towering wall faced with burnished brass. Nice shade canopy, cool spray from the fountain below them. Capering neomah that she made a point of not looking at, while he stared openly.
Sigh. Aphrodisia and the others kept asking if they'd offended her, and why she kept them around. She might, eventually. They were friends, at least, after a fashion, so at least she wouldn't be just wandering off to some random brothel. She'd been here most of a month; by this point, she really was itching for some sexy fun times. Just...preferably not with a random, and not many people here seemed to get that. Not even Cyan. Sulumor seemed to, but then she also seemed to regard sleeping with any human but a Dune Person as bestiality. Strange, given that she genuinely seemed to want Buffy's friendship, but perhaps Buffy was like a pet.
"Ain't been so great since you crippled me up. Can't enjoy it much." A neomah handed him a drink, smiling and jiggling, and he sighed. "Soon."
"Visitors, m'lord," the neomah said with a nervous smile. "The Peers Sulumor and Cyan Manosque wish to speak with your other visitor." She bowed to Buffy, too. At least she'd stopped trying to show off her assets to Buffy after Cearr objected, but then Cearr seemed to have done that because she was his property, not because it made Buffy uncomfortable. "M'lady?"
"It's all right with me if they join us. You?" She glanced at Cearr, who shrugged.
"They ain't my best of friends. I'll deal, though. We're in it together in the long run. Tell them to come in, bit." The neomah hurried off. "You know that you're just another tool to Cyan. Everyone is, really, but especially Slayers. Point us and strike."
Buffy nodded. She had suspected it. "Manosque?"
"She tell you her name was Nellens? Well, it's on her record of birth, but Manosque's supposed to have been wiped out a long time ago. Survivors want revenge on the Empress. Can't say I blame 'em. Can't say I care too much, either." Cearr upended his drink. "Gonna have to get you some good chalcanth, kid."
Cyan strolled in casually, followed by Sulumor, who took the time for a more imposing stride. The priestess had traded her naughty nun clothes for a more conventional, if expensive, green silk dress, which roughly matched Cyan's blue one.
"Hey," Buffy said, trying to be polite. "You looking for me? You two seem like you might be planning a night on the town."
"You could say that," Cyan agreed. "One might also call it a girls' night out. Or, if you like, an intervention. For you."
"For me." Great. Now they thought she was being self-destructive or something. She was the one who wasn't getting wasted every night she was here! Maybe she could humor them into going away.
"She can't be serious," Chejop muttered under his breath. "Some bizarre hyperbole, I suppose. Before the Scarlet Empress was born, my left foot."
"Suggest another explanation for that level of Essence, then, Chejop." Ayesha found his discomfiture amusing. Of course, the girl did have to be lying or exaggerating somehow. "She takes to this like a natural."
Anya had to take a moment and wave Spike and Angel away. They'd already been hurt facing the Maiden once. They were powerful, for vampires, but they weren't her equals. Not anymore. The distraction cost her the tip of her right pinky. Could've been worse, massively worse. This time she was the one to leap over the Maiden's kick; her motion was awkward, but it definitely carried her high enough. In another five universes she lost a foot. Not here though. Not yet.
She seized the Maiden by the wrist and wrenched, trying to force that immense blade out of her hand, but all that happened was that the Maiden grunted and flicked it at her, forcing Anya to lean way back and let go. She toppled backwards, struggling briefly to regain her feet, but the Maiden was already coming for her again. Surviving the Maiden was one thing; actively hurting her was another. And this time, it seemed plain that she'd been holding back before. The sword came down just to the left of Anya's face as she rolled desperately right. At least she was drinking in that power when the Maiden failed to hit her.
Anya wanted to believe there was a good end to this. That she was capable of ending this monster with Buffy's face. And maybe she was, maybe she was even fated to-but it wasn't going to happen just yet. The Maiden lunged closer, waving that giant sword and forcing Anya to leap away. How many alternate hers had already died, even with superpowers? Too bad she couldn't just banish the Maiden to a world with nothing but shrimp.
Snarling in a ferocious manner she hadn't in centuries, Anya sliced through the Maiden's wrist with her fingernails. Fight with a bleeding sword arm, then. Go on. Fight that way if you could.
The Maiden's smile was a rictus now. Not that she had any intention of stopping. Where was Xander when you needed him? Or even Buffy or Fred? She needed backup.
Or she was going to die here after all.
"I thought you said you had only been Exalted for a week," Nelumbo said with a puzzled frown.
"Exaggerating a little," Xander acknowledged as they loaded Ebon Siaka onto Gathered Might of the Militat. "It's been closer to a month, but it doesn't feel like very long. I thought you said Gathered Might was a she."
"Might spends most of their time these days as a troop transport. They don't much care what pronouns you use. They're getting ready to put down roots and become a city, I think." Nelumbo watched Ebon Siaka carefully; the pirate stirred but didn't wake.
"Become...maybe I'll ask more about that later. Speaking of cities, I don't guess you have any way of detecting one underwater?"
"Maybe," Nelumbo said. "I might end up having to go back to a VATS complex and get some Charms replaced, but one way or another I think we can work something out. Why?"
"Someone who...who said they were helping us...dropped Fred off at what they said was an underwater city named Luthe before stranding me on a deserted island. Fred can be a squid. She's a Lunar." Xander scratched at his head for a moment. "I'm having some problems remembering who it was that did it, actually. You ok?" Nelumbo's expression had become oddly sad.
"I'll be all right," she sighed.
"Hello, your worthiness?" Throth-Shulgu peered around Fred's half-open door. "Your food?"
Fred froze, marker in hand. Oh. She hadn't eaten in...when had she eaten last? The walls were covered in equations and diagrams. "Um. Sorry. I'm afraid I've got the place all messed up. I...I've been working on those Essence cannon thingies and..."
"Say no more," Throth said, and handed her a bowl of bread and cooked fish. "It's important." She looked around at the room for a few moments, then shrugged and closed the door.
Fred checked the wall clock. It'd been something like three days since she'd eaten. Yipes! Trouble was, it really was an integral part of her overall plan that she get some of the weapons repaired and remounted on the hull. So she was going all out. The Sage-and Throth-Shulgu-seemed inordinately pleased with her. Her brain fizzed and popped with Essence, and the project seemed incredibly easy. Fortunately fewer than point-one percent of the weapons had damaged orichalcum wiring; there didn't seem to be much of that to scavenge, and she still hadn't figured out how one made more. It seemed completely indistinguishable from gold down to the atomic level! So what was different about it?
She'd figure it out. She could figure everything out like this.
Assuming she remembered to eat.
"We're in Creation?" Buffy looked around the tavern, trying not to pay too much attention to the loud, off-key music. "I thought I wasn't going back to Creation till I left for Gem."
"No," said Sulumor. "You're in training till you leave for Gem. This is part of your training." She gave Buffy a shove toward a table before turning to one of the barmaids. "Maid, get us some beer." The priestess took a seat on Buffy's right. "First step: get you drunk."
"Wait, what?" Buffy was pretty sure religious people didn't like you to do that. "I mean, that's not all that hard, you know. I can't hold my liquor...as the saying goes." Oh no. Please let them not order something harder than beer because she said that.
"Well, why is that?" Cyan asked, sitting on Buffy's left. "You can take a punch that can shatter stone, but you can't take a couple of beers without falling under the table? Don't you see the problem, Buffy? You don't leverage your charms." Buffy glanced around at the other patrons, causing Cyan to scoff. "Even if they could hear us over all the noise, people know what charms are, Buffy. A great many different beings have them."
Sulumor shook her head sadly. "You half-use the smallest portion of what you can do. Part of that is your scruples-which, contrary to what Cyan will tell you, are not always a bad thing-but more of it seems to be your preconceptions of what your power is. You were trained to believe you were a superhuman physical specimen. Fine, as far as that goes. But you are so much more than that, Buffy. Every now and then you show more of your capacity. You reason out mystical principles; you organize students to fight a battle. So we know you're not somehow less than us."
"So," Cyan explained patiently, "we're going to try and get you past that. If you can keep yourself sober, fine. Plainly that's progress and we can work with that. But ideally, I think once your inhibitions are down you'll do a lot better." She took a mug of beer from the barmaid's tray and sat it down in front of Buffy. "Drink. Drink it down."
She took a deep breath and downed the beer in one gulp. "'Kay. Hit me again."
Anya slashed at the Maiden again, and again she missed.
So far so good. The Maiden didn't seem to be toying with her. The girl's face, so much like Buffy's, was set with a familiar grim determination that said she was trying her dead level best to cut Anya to pieces and failing. She hadn't gotten any more good blows in, and Anya had hurt her a little. Every time the Maiden missed, Anya gained a little more energy.
That couldn't last forever, though. The Maiden knew things she didn't, and had a big honking sword. Sooner or later she was going to break through Anya's defenses, and Anya had a bad feeling it was only going to take one good hit to bring her back down to lying on the floor. She needed something better to do with that energy-a bolt of fire, a rock mysteriously underfoot to trip over, a set of adamantium claws. Something. All she was coming up with, though, was dodging better and hitting better, and that just wasn't doing enough.
Those seven chains ripped from the Maiden's back in a spray of blood. Damn it, this was getting ugly.
"Okay, I shee what you're shaying." Was she really that drunk already?
"Buffy," Sulumor said patiently, "you can do better than this. Shake it off."
A bubble of rage rose to the surface. "God damn it, how?!" She was standing, suddenly. And curiously steady. "I don't know how to do what you want me to do! It's not that simple for me! It's just not!"
"You're not slurring anymore," Cyan observed. "Much better. If anger helps, then be angry with us."
"Yes, angry helps! It's called adrenaline! That's not something supern-" Sulumor swept a foot under her suddenly, and Buffy leapt, reflexively, above it. "-atur...al."
"You seem awfully steady on your feet, Buffy," Sulumor said. "Must we fight?"
"I have a better suggestion," said Cyan, glancing around the tavern. "Buffy, see anyone you find attractive? Contrary to what you seem to be trying to make us think, I can tell you're not sleeping with your neomah friends. You haven't gotten any in at least a month now."
Buffy tried not to blush, and didn't. "I guess if..." She looked around. "I can see a few. There's tall, dark, and handsome over there." He looked a bit like Angel, but with better hair. "And that redhead, he's got good abs and a nice butt. And, um, the guy over there with the short blond cut, that's-" The spiky-haired blond turned and proved to have a pair of breasts. "Er, my bad, never mind her." Cyan laughed. "No, seriously, I just didn't notice."
"If you say so. Pick one," Cyan said patiently.
"And?"
"And what?" Sulumor said, rolling her eyes. "Get in their pants."
The dragon burst through the gateway and into the Perfect's Palace. "So sorry," Iron Siaka shouted. "Make way! Coming through!" Guards leapt frantically out of the way. "Give our regards to the Perfect! Sorry!"
"Was that really necessary?" Crimson Banner Executioner kept himself flattened on the dragon's back as it spun and twisted down the hallway. "I know we're in a hurry, but couldn't we have used the Lap gate?"
"Lap's still in an uproar," Iron Siaka grumbled. "Everybody's freaking out over the damn 'Anathema' burning the harvest. And yes, I know it was the Dragon-Blooded's fault, technically. They wouldn't have done it if these freakin' walking anomalies we're chasing hadn't flipped their lids, right?"
"You realize one of those anomalies is our new Sid, right?" Executioner wondered as the dragon shot past a series of gold-paneled arches and out the window. "I mean, sure, they hadn't woken yet, but he or she is almost certainly involved in what happened, if only on the sidelines."
"Haven't even proven the first part yet," Iron Siaka disagreed. The dragon beat its wings and rushed dizzyingly toward the city walls. "Could be they were one of the slaves the 'Anathema' picked up."
"Rather be fetching a slave, then?"
"They probably wouldn't be on the verge of death!" She let go with one hand, leaning perilously to the right, and pointed to a pair of tiny figures ducking and weaving amid some distant dunes. "That's gotta be them!" Even as she spoke, one of them lashed out-she couldn't make out exactly what was happening there-and knocked the other to the ground. Chains. Chains sprouting out of a Deathknight's back. "Shit, our side is down!"
"You got anything for her? I'm not exactly a healer." Executioner angled the dragon down till they were speeding just over the dunes in a spreading wake of blowing sand.
"Um, no? I don't know what we're...wait. Shit. Yeah, I know what to do." She reached into a pocket and fetched a quill and prayer strip. "Not exactly my first choice, but it's better than letting 'em die."
"Here goes, then." Executioner let go of the dragon's neck and began leaning left. "Grab him and land!" Paired daiklaives in hand, he let his weight carry him, sliding around the dragon's body till he hung by the heels. Upside down, blades held forward, he slammed into the Abyssal at full speed, releasing the dragon as he did.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Dropping the quill, Iron Siaka grabbed the dragon's neck and dug her left foot into its side. The dragon in turn dropped its left rear claw into the sand, folded its wings, and wheeled around to a rough landing as Siaka dug another quill out of her pocket. "You know I'm no good with these things!"
Executioner was trading blows with the Deathknight and not listening to a word she said. Men! Hands shaking, she scratched out the proper writing on the prayer strip and raced to the newcomer's side. At least it was a girl, looking no older than her early twenties. Her arms were covered in half-healed cuts that looked as if they'd been badly infected until-well, maybe ten minutes ago or less, still trickling pus in places despite the wounds having mostly sealed. A vicious welt, seeping blood in spite of the girl's best efforts to stanch it, encircled her neck. "Damn, that's bad." Of course, if she'd still been mortal it'd already have bled out.
"...know that...dying here...you got some band aids?" Her hair was the faintest of strawberry blondes, her eyes a deep, deep blue. Her tone held only no real humor, only sarcasm. Maidens preserve me from pretty, snarky women.
Well, there were no real options here. "Recite after me, 'kay?" She spoke the words quickly in Old Realm, then in Riverspeak, then slowly to let the newbie Sidereal pronounce them phonetically since she didn't seem to know Old Realm. They'd have to fix that, and soon. "I vow our lives joined, our Essence shared, our wills as one. May this bond make us one till its appropiate time is past." The strip coiled on itself, split, and melted into a pair of sapphire-studded rings. One slipped onto her finger, the other onto the stranger's, and she felt a rush of weakness as life drained from her body into the other woman. Shockingly, both essence and strength of will flowed the other way! "Take care of that. Get up if you can. We've got a deathknight to kick the ass of." She'd explain later what'd just happened and hope the other woman wasn't too pissed about having her life saved. Some people were crazy like that.
The other woman struggled to her feet, plainly still weak, and raised her fists. "Works for me." Talk about spirit!
Iron Siaka was afraid she might be in love.
Buffy wasn't too certain how she got here, but it wasn't from being excessively drunk. She could feel a pleasant buzz, nothing more. This despite being certain she'd had at least five beers and another five shots of whiskey. She was way over her limit. Somehow, though, she was still functional.
At least as importantly, she was about five millimeters away from the handsome, well-muscled redhead. That is, her butt was that far from his face at the moment, and she was wriggling it. Every movement her body made felt as if it were under her perfect and undeniable control, though at the same time she was pretty sure she was on fire.
The worst of it was that she was trying extremely hard to focus on her lap dance so that she could ignore what was happening to the rest of the tavern. Somewhere in the midst of it she had realized that everyone in the bar, from patrons to maids to her fellow Infernals, were fixated on her as she ground away. Cyan had tall, dark, and handsome and the blonde girl under one arm apiece while they kissed in varying combinations, Sulumor was alone but had slipped a hand inside her outfit somewhere, and in general the rest of the bar was split up into pairs or slightly larger groups, watching Buffy with at least one eye while they made out. More than made out, in a few cases. She really hadn't meant to turn the gathering into an orgy.
Cyan made a dismissive gesture at her, as if to say, "Go on, get a room." The redhead groaned and laid a hand on each of her hips. That wasn't supposed to be how this kind of dancing worked...she didn't care. She twisted around and planted a kiss on his lips. What the hell, what was it going to hurt anyway? No one was even paying attention.
Buffy unfastened her belt.
Angel and Spike were circling Anya and the newcomers, and she was pretty sure she could see the group with Giles and Willow and such appearing over the dunes. They didn't need to be here. Anya needed to finish this without them. The Maiden of the Mirthless Smile was serious and in for keeps this time.
Every time she lashed out with that gigantic blade, Crimson Banner Executioner blocked her with one of his smaller ones and sliced at her with the other. Iron Siaka stayed close to her with the mace she'd called the Dulcet Consolator, smashing at the Abyssal's back whenever the Maiden turned it. Anya was mostly just trying not to die, but she'd managed to trip the Maiden up three times and punch her in the face once.
The rusty chains lashed near her and Anya grabbed for them. This time she could feel just how unlikely that first attempt had been. Had the Maiden been faking that specifically, or had she just gotten lucky? She'd probably never know...nor did she particularly care, thank you very much. Anya hauled on the chain, dragging the Maiden away from Executioner at a critical moment and giving Iron Siaka a chance to bash her in the head with an excited cry.
Executioner was about to run the Maiden through with one of his swords when a distorted whinney echoed a few feet away, and a flickering phantom steed burst between them. The Maiden's free chains wrapped around the horse's skeletal neck, allowing it to yank her off her feet and onto its back. Anya let go just in time to avoid being dragged after her. The Maiden got off one final slash at Siaka as the creature carried her away.
"Damn it damn it damn it!" Anya looked up at Siaka in surprise as the two echoed one another. This ring business, maybe? Or were they just rather alike? Anya held it up. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like?"
Iron Siaka pouted and looked at the bloody ground. "Well, it's sacred to the Maidens. But no, it's not a wedding band, not really. Sorry."
"Don't be. You saved my life. Just don't try to take advantage," Anya said, patting her on the back. "My boyfriend will be back eventually. He's a Solar now, and he'll kick your ass."
Siaka's eyes widened and she smacked a hand over her face. "Dzhe-sus," she said, trying inexpertly to repeat a curse Anya had let fly during the fight. "Chejop Kejak is gonna have my hide." In the background, Executioner began to laugh softly.
"He'll only kick your ass if you make trouble," Anya said, trying to sound conciliatory. "He might even be willing to let you make some moves on me so long as we all share." It wasn't likely, but Siaka wasn't too bad looking. Butch, but men were often strange about that.
"Djzhesus," Siaka muttered again. "How do I get myself into these things?" Anya shrugged. "Look, we need to get you to Yu-Shan where we can get both of us healed up properly and you trained."
"No," Anya said curtly. Siaka started to speak, and Anya hurried on. "Look, we've had four of our little group Exalt one way or another, and the next thing you know someone comes and spirits them away and leaves the rest of us alone in this deathtrap of a hell dimension. I'm not going to Yu-Shan unless I can take my friends with me."
"They could stay in Paragon," Iron Siaka offered, sounding totally reasonable in her way. "Paragon's pretty safe."
"No deal. They come with me, or we all stay in Paragon." Anya stood her ground. If they wanted her that badly, they could take the whole group, but no more splitting the party.
Iron Siaka gave Executioner a scandalized, despairing look. Executioner shrugged. "What's the harm?" he said finally. "They're her guests, and if they make trouble she'll spend her first week on the job getting audited. She may as well get used to office politics." Iron Siaka made a disgusted noise in her throat.
"Good," Anya said triumphantly. She didn't feel that triumphant, but it was important to keep the appearance of victory going. These Exalts were going to take her as she was, and she wasn't going to change for anyone.
Buffy woke up in a strange bed, with a bit of a headache that should have been a ferocious hangover and wasn't.
"Well," Sulumor said from beside her. "That wasn't what I was expecting to happen at all."
"Me neither," said Cyan, "but I'm not complaining."
Buffy had to move three men so she could get up to pee.
Never again.
Seriously, never.
She meant it this time.