With a slight frown, the pope put down the report, shaking his head to himself; when he had sent the men to find the witch and neutralize the child she was carrying, he momentarily had felt bad about it, considering the view the church normally had on murder and keeping in mind the fifth commandment, but on the other hand, he had read the prophecy and had known that they couldn't allow it to come true.
Thus, he had sent the best men the Vatican had for such cases, confident that they would do the job, as they had so often; and now, all but two of them were dead, and the sniper they had hired after their initial plan had failed had been scared badly enough by the Slayer and her companions that now, he refused to leave his room and had vowed to never pick up another sniper rifle, ever, claiming again and again that he couldn't forget "the screeching", even though none of them knew it what meant.
Before he had hidden away in his quarters, the sniper had given them the Slayer's message, and the words the witch's hellspawn lover had said to him; and if he had been anyone else, the pope might have been worried, but he knew that they couldn't touch him, not in the Vatican, where he was surrounded by people who had no other goal in life than making sure that he would be okay.
And he was still on that train of thought when the window flew open, and a gust of wind picked up the pages of the report and sent them flying through the room; he gasped, but before he could do more than that, the woman had entered through the open window, giving him a second to wonder how she had done this, considering how high up they were – before she smiled at him, a malicious smile which made his blood run cold.
"Benedict", she then greeted him, not bothering to address him the correct way, "how nice you could make time for me."
In response, he took in a breath to yell for his men, so they would come bursting in and stop this maniac, before she could do God knew what to him; her smile widened slightly, and she made a short gesture at him, the only sound which left his throat seconds later being a high-pitched wheeze.
"No yelling", she told him, moving over to him and pushing him, making him slump back down into his seat, "don't worry, I'm not here to kill you. Yet. But if you send someone after my friends again, and don't try to tell me you don't know who I am talking about, I will come here to kill you. And as you just saw, I have no troubles to get past all your safety measures, right into your office."
She gave him another smile, then picked up one of the few report pages which had landed on the desk and glanced at it – before she ripped it in half and tossed the pieces into his lap, her voice hard as she went on. "I can enter your bedroom just as easily. Or any other room you are in. And if anyone is with you, I can kill them with a snap of my fingers. So call your men back, and tell them that Willow, her child, and anyone close to her is off limits. Got that?"
Still unable to speak, he nodded frantically, and she gave him another smile; she took the time to remind him once more of the gruesome things she could do to him before she turned and left the same way she had come from, leaving him trembling in his chair, his eyes wide with fear.
Carefully, he tested his voice, using its return to whisper a quick prayer to the Lord, asking for protection – and then he picked up the phone and called the one responsible for the operation, managing to keep the tremble out of his voice when the other man took the call.
"Sunnydale is called off", he told the man, ignoring the surprised noise he received as a reply, "we will not make any more attempts on the witch or her spawn."
"…yes, Sir", the man on the other end of the line agreed after a moment, his voice carrying an unspoken question; not bothering to answer it, the pope hung up the phone, then leaned back into his seat and wiped sweat off his brow with a trembling hand, crossing himself afterwards, sending another prayer afterwards that he hadn't just made a dreadful mistake.
End.