Not a Plea
by Rob Morris

I can still the look of dumb shock on her face as you set her aflame. Hallie thought she was so damned sophisticated. But she was just another hooker, knifed by her pimp. D'Hoffryn, do even you have any clue how many prostitutes I've avenged? If that nice Mister Wells hadn't been so creative in pursuing and finishing off Bloody Jack, you would never have believed what I had set up for that little surgeon.

How very damned odd to know that I can depend more on the man who ran out on me last year than the one who gave me power last millennium. Xander fetches whatever I ask him to from the storage I rented, after The Magic Box closed. I always ask for six items, one I need and five random ones. You'll never see it coming.

I wonder, when you can't teleport anymore, if any of 'your girls' will come to your aid? I'm giving you straight to Buffy, then, bound up and your banes all well researched. Willow will be helpful, but I'm not depending on her. I am keeping something handy to stop her from maybe freeing you. Nothing bad. Just something certain.

How DARE you forget that I knew vengeance before you ever took notice of me? Olaf was all my work. What Willow does with computers, I did with herbs, and my knowledge has only increased. There'll be no flexing of your mystic muscles, then. I'll be aiming your essence straight at whatever sponsors you have, as a weapon. There'll be no one left to avenge you.

I have friends. You have subjects under an iron hand. My most naive friend is Dawnie, who'd prolly still have a torch shoved up your backside before you could get your first taunt out. If Hallifrek meant nothing to you, then no one does. That will be your final undoing. And to some extent, I know which of your 'stable' will just gallop off as your barn burns, down to the ground, and then down to hell, and then down to the chaoplasm that may or may not lie beyond hell.

You severely misunderstood me, D'Hoffryn. Those last words you heard were not a plea.

You Should Have Killed Me.

JUNE, 2003, A MOTEL IN COLORADO

Poolside

Xander opened his good eye and looked up. Buffy was standing next to D'Hoffryn. She had the scythe.

"Say the word, loverboy."

"Sokay, Buff. Let him say his piece. I'll be cool."

With a definite glare at the Chief Vengeance Demon, Buffy left the two alone.

"You two?"

Xander sat up.

"Slayers are hormonal, so I don't know for how long. What's it to you?"

D'Hoffryn chuckled.

"Well, its just that there's this one alternate reality where you two turn out to be twi...ahhh, long story. Besides, the version of me there is something of a wuss."

"D'hoffryn? Point of visit being?"

He raised and shook a finger.

"Yes. I'm here for Anyanka's last treasure."

Xander shrugged.

"Anyanka is about a thousand or so miles away, and five miles straight down. She is both thoroughly smushed and bifurcated. I looked the word up. Also, the Initiative firebombed the pit before flooding it with Holy Water. She's gone, D'Hoffryn. Your boys never got her."

D'Hoffryn turned away.

"She would have given you the location. I want it."

Xander sighed, went to his room, and produced a scrawl with coordinates on it. He gave it to the unwanted visitor.

"Here."

Xander sat back down. D'Hoffryn shook his head.

"No threats?"

"She's gone. My talking big won't change that. But if you want a threat--keep your stable away from the Neo-Slayers. Buffy and Faith know how to use that scythe."

Xander then spoke in a high, squeaky voice that clearly unnerved the demon.

"Just ask Caleb."

After he vanished, D'Hoffryn saw that some of the coordinates were chronal in nature.

"Hiding it in time, Anyanka? Please."

Every vengeance demon had a last treasure trove, a nest egg of some sort, be it power, spells or money. Hallifrek had owned a whole network of Auntie Anne's in malls across the West Coast. He could only guess what Anyanka had set aside. Probably not money. She had only recognized that very late in life.

1952, LAGOS ISLAND

D'Hoffryn continued to follow the traces of Anyanka as he went around. He also rolled his eyes.

"Putting me this near to Bikini Island in the early 1950's, Anyanka? WEAK!"

He laughed as he saw the distant mushroom cloud.

"The Hydrogen Bomb. Oh--don't hurt me, Mister Radiation."

As the life around him died, D'Hoffryn kept to his search, finally finding the spell-nodule that was his goal.

"Now, we can teleport out...wha?"

The radiation could not kill him. But it was making popping out pure hell.

"Well, I'll figure it out. Let's see what you had---heh--Anya."

The ground around D'Hoffryn began to shake. Inside the nodule was a note that contained simple words.

*YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED ME*

He threw the note away.

"Bo-ring."

The ground stopped shaking, and D'Hoffryn felt hot breath upon him.

"Who's there? You may as well come..."

He looked up, and there he saw a great gray-green thunder lizard, nearly 200 feet tall. Its face had a canine aspect, and it sported a row of dorsal fins as well as a very long tail.

"Uhhh--ok. I know your name from somewhere...I'll betcha that little geek Andrew would know it.."

The creature roared with the noise of a hundred bull elephants. D'Hoffryn found that his teleportation now worked not at all. He saw the monster's mouth open.

"Why--why is your mouth glowing blue? Does that mean something?"

2003

Xander kissed her picture, and for the foreseeable future, said one last tender goodbye.

"Done."