Title: Hope Rising
Author: Kalika
Summary: Someone unexpected comes to Sunnydale. Who is she, and
why is Spike acting strange around her.
Author's Notes: Hey all, this is my first Buffy fic. Yay me. Anyway, this
is fictional, but does have some episode truths in it.
Disclaimer: This is all Joss Whedon's. I own none of it, except Hope. I own
her. She's my bitch.
Let's get on with it, eh?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunnydale Bus Depot. Lovely place, if you're dead or blind. The
newly arrived tourists to Hell on Earth gazed around, thinking it looked
just like a normal town. Like Detroit, or Boulder.
One of the passengers, a short brunette, laughed sardonically
at the reactions of the others. 'Yep, like any other town, just with, ya know,
demons and vampires and other creepy crawlies,' she thought. With that,
she hefted her dufflebag and began to walk. Her auburn hair was cropped
short and her almond shaped green eyes surveyed the landscape.
"Maybe I'll run in to him tonight, if I'm lucky," she said to no one
in particular. Passing a small shoppe, she stopped and turned. 'Some
energy this place has,' and with that thought, she walked back a few paces
and into the store.
"The Magic Box, eh? Probably just another hokey Wicca festival,"
said muttered disdainfully whilst walking in. As soon as she entered, however,
her eyes roved the shelves in wonder. Soon, a bouncing blonde came up to
her smiling falsely.
"Do you need my assistance locating something?" Yep, this girl
was a bit off. Her nameplate read 'Anya'.
"So you're the demon-gone-human, eh? Bloody hell, you've grown
up a bit. I haven't seen you since you were exacting vengeance on your first
unfaithful man. And now you're all human. Seems like only yesterday that
little Anyanka recieved her pendant." At the look on the girl's face, shock
and confusion, mixed with some recognition, Hope knew she had spoken
too much.
"Wh-who are you? How do you know so much? Are you a spy?"
Hope laughed and shook her head. "No Anya... I'm... you see...
oh, sod it! I'm Hope, you met me long ago. I was an... aquaintance of
Tall, Dark, and Scaly's." She referred to her old nickname for D'Hoffryn.
At this, Anya gaped and burst out laughing.
When the ex-demon's laughter subsided, she gave Hope a once
over and pulled her into an all-too-human hug. "Hope, I remember now. How
are you? What have you been keeping yourself occupied with all these years?"
"Okay, so you don't quite have the human thing down, but you look
good. Not a day over 200, I'd say," she paused and sighed, running a small
hand through her short hair. "I've been travelling around, actually. I heard
word that William was here, so I decided to stop in and surprise him."
"Oh, he'll be surprised, I gather," Anya stated plainly. "Actually,
he'll be by in about an hour, so if you'd like to wait, you can help me with
consumers, er, *customers*. Perhaps we'll get more business."
Anya seemed displeased that customers would often enter and
give her strange looks for her manner of speaking. She didn't see the
point in sugar coating. They wanted goods, she had goods, and for a small
(or sometimes large) amount of money, they could have the goods for their
own use.
"You just have an unnatural way of speaking, Anyanka. It takes a
bit of getting used to. Plus, you've always been honest, and many people
aren't used to that, as well. I bet you have many repeat customers, don't
you?" At the blonde's nod, Hope continued, "It's because of that honesty
and your amiable nature, not to mention your knowledge on magickal
periphenalia. You're knowledgeable, and people like salespeople who
know that they're talking about."
"How can I make first time customers feel more welcome,
though?"
Hope grinned, "Simple, when they walk in, let them wander for
a few minutes. If they're looking for something specific, they'll ask you
where to find it. If they seem unsure, approach them, and ask them,
'Hi, is there something I can help you with?' or 'Hi? What can I do for
you?' It makes them feel like their needs are more important."
Anya nodded, but seemed a bit confused. "What if they have
a spell in mind, but don't know the components for it? Or have the wrong
component?"
"Well, if they have an ingredient that isn't as effective, gently
suggest a different ingredient, citing that it will work better for them. If they
don't know the spell they need, but know the results they want, let them
know in a friendly way the spell components and the exact spell they need.
Do you have a photocopier?"
"Yes, it's upstair with the rest of the books."
"Then offer to photocopy the spell for them."
"But isn't that subservient?"
"That's the point of being a salesperson. You are here to let them
know what they would need for a certain spell, what spell they would need
to gain certain results, and basically help them."
"Oh. That would mean that I've only been getting the job half-right
all this time." Anya muttered, depressed. Hope put an arm around Anya's
shoulder and led her behind the counter.
"You'll get it right in time. Besides, you do well with the half you've
gotten right." Anya smiled slightly and nodded. "Now, what's with this human
thing? From what I hear, you've become human twice now."
"Yes, well, the first time, my pendant was broken. The second time,
I.. fell in love with a mortal." Expecting a shocked or angered string of
expletives to erupt from Hope's mouth, Anya grimace and cringed.
"Oh. Cool. Is he nice?"
"Yes, but, Hope, you've changed. You'd have killed me for saying
that a couple centuries ago."
"Hmm... that was then, this is now. Now, If you'll excuse me, I
have to find a hotel to stay in while I'm here. Bloody places smell of cheap
perfume and pretenses. Reminds me of a Cajun I once new."
"Hope, do you realize you slipped in and out of your accent?"
"More like triple backflipped," a voice said from behind Hope. She
turned and met a pair of brownish-hazel eyes.
"Oh! I'm sorry, did you need anything, sir?" He smirked at her
slightly reproachful behaviour.
"Simply my girlfriend from behind the counter."
"You're the boyfriend!" She turned to Anya, "Oh, he's cute. Good
choice, Aun."
She turned back around and he extended his hand, "Xander Harris,
boyfriend and contractor extraordinaire. Pleased to meet ya... ehh...??"
"Hope," she supplied with a small laugh. "I'm Hope, don't have a
last name, but I slice, I dice, and I make julienne fries. Not to mention a pretty
mean Manhattan. I'm a friend of Anya's."
"Cool, so what's with the schitzo accent thing?"
"I've lived just about everywhere, so my accent comes and goes."
"Hope needs a place to stay, so I was thinking of taking her in while
she visits."
"Aun, is she? Hope, when you said friend, did you mean demony
goodness?"
"Kind of, yes, but I'm not demon completely. I was borne about
two hundred years ago, when I was 5. I was dying of cancer, and I was
offered to live again. I accepted and the only stipulation is that I age
slower than everyone else."
"When you say older, you mean..."
"I've aged fourteen mortal years in the span of two hundred years."
"Good to know. So you're not evil?"
"No, just plain ol' Hope."
"Okay, Aun, she's good. Definitely roommate material." Xander
turned to Hope and motioned at Anya. "You're staying with her, right? I
would say that you're the most normal friend, and you seem like a good
influence, and..."
"Xan?"
"Yeah, Aun?"
"When did you turn into my mom?" He did a double take at her
pleasantly normal speech. His head swiveled between Anya and Hope,
confused.
Finally, words came out. Pointing at Hope, wagging his finger,
he said in a low voice, "You... you're good. You're staying with her."
"Yes'm," Hope replied with a grin and salute. Anya snickered
and pretended to find something behind the counter.
"Women..." he muttered. He soon realized that both Anya and
Hope were glaring at him. He chuckled nervously, "They deserve the
world?" The two women exchanged glances and nodded complacently,
going back to what they were doing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Anya, that was fabulous!" Xander exclaimed, relishing the taste
still left in his mouth from dinner. Poached salmon with lemon and orange
marinade and rosemary, red wine, and baked potatoes. For dessert, a
rich chocolate mousse. All made by Anya.
"Hope taught me. Actually, she just gave me a recipe book I
could understand. There's none of that 'pinch of this', 'teaspoon of that'
language. I can understand the measurements of ingredients now. It's
now 'a dorankyo of this', 'a moulsith of that'."
"Aun, I think your cooking before was great, and you're a
wonderful person. I also think Hope brings out the best in you. You seem
happier with who you are and where you're at in life, and not so... out of
touch with reality."
Anya smiled and blushed a bit, turning around to do the dishes.
Xander came up behind her and put his arms around her waist and on her
hands. "Let me," he whispered, and gently put his hands back on her waist,
slightly moving her. "You relax, and I'll do the dishes." Anya reached up and
kissed his earlobe lightly. "Now now, you do that and no dishes will get
done, also, no relaxing."
"Alexander Harris, one would think that was a threat," she
smiled, feigning innocence.
He kissed her full on the lips and grinned, "More like a
promise." Sure enough, no dishes were done that night, and definitely no
one relaxed.
Hope grinned as she moved away from the scrying pool. Anya
deserved to be happier, she deserved to be human and have Xander
and be happy and have many babies.
She had lied to Anya about going out to see the sights, and
had actually taken her key to get into the Magic Box. There, she
could scrye in peace.
William had never showed up to the shoppe that day, as he
was supposed to. Anya supposed he had slept in, meaning he was
now a vampire. 'Wonderful,' the half-demon thought to herself. For
centuries, she had lied to Anyanka, and now, she lied to the
ex-demon's soulmate.
Cursing under her breath in Draconic, she ended the flow
of energies that had been coursing through her. "I'm gettin' too old
for this crap," and with that sentence, she had closed up the
shoppe and walked toward the sound of thumping bass and many
voices.
"When the cat's away, the mice will play. Honey, I'm home,"
she said to herself as she caught sight of the Bronze. Sunnydale
had a nightlife after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let me know what you think. Review or email me at [email protected]
Author: Kalika
Summary: Someone unexpected comes to Sunnydale. Who is she, and
why is Spike acting strange around her.
Author's Notes: Hey all, this is my first Buffy fic. Yay me. Anyway, this
is fictional, but does have some episode truths in it.
Disclaimer: This is all Joss Whedon's. I own none of it, except Hope. I own
her. She's my bitch.
Let's get on with it, eh?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunnydale Bus Depot. Lovely place, if you're dead or blind. The
newly arrived tourists to Hell on Earth gazed around, thinking it looked
just like a normal town. Like Detroit, or Boulder.
One of the passengers, a short brunette, laughed sardonically
at the reactions of the others. 'Yep, like any other town, just with, ya know,
demons and vampires and other creepy crawlies,' she thought. With that,
she hefted her dufflebag and began to walk. Her auburn hair was cropped
short and her almond shaped green eyes surveyed the landscape.
"Maybe I'll run in to him tonight, if I'm lucky," she said to no one
in particular. Passing a small shoppe, she stopped and turned. 'Some
energy this place has,' and with that thought, she walked back a few paces
and into the store.
"The Magic Box, eh? Probably just another hokey Wicca festival,"
said muttered disdainfully whilst walking in. As soon as she entered, however,
her eyes roved the shelves in wonder. Soon, a bouncing blonde came up to
her smiling falsely.
"Do you need my assistance locating something?" Yep, this girl
was a bit off. Her nameplate read 'Anya'.
"So you're the demon-gone-human, eh? Bloody hell, you've grown
up a bit. I haven't seen you since you were exacting vengeance on your first
unfaithful man. And now you're all human. Seems like only yesterday that
little Anyanka recieved her pendant." At the look on the girl's face, shock
and confusion, mixed with some recognition, Hope knew she had spoken
too much.
"Wh-who are you? How do you know so much? Are you a spy?"
Hope laughed and shook her head. "No Anya... I'm... you see...
oh, sod it! I'm Hope, you met me long ago. I was an... aquaintance of
Tall, Dark, and Scaly's." She referred to her old nickname for D'Hoffryn.
At this, Anya gaped and burst out laughing.
When the ex-demon's laughter subsided, she gave Hope a once
over and pulled her into an all-too-human hug. "Hope, I remember now. How
are you? What have you been keeping yourself occupied with all these years?"
"Okay, so you don't quite have the human thing down, but you look
good. Not a day over 200, I'd say," she paused and sighed, running a small
hand through her short hair. "I've been travelling around, actually. I heard
word that William was here, so I decided to stop in and surprise him."
"Oh, he'll be surprised, I gather," Anya stated plainly. "Actually,
he'll be by in about an hour, so if you'd like to wait, you can help me with
consumers, er, *customers*. Perhaps we'll get more business."
Anya seemed displeased that customers would often enter and
give her strange looks for her manner of speaking. She didn't see the
point in sugar coating. They wanted goods, she had goods, and for a small
(or sometimes large) amount of money, they could have the goods for their
own use.
"You just have an unnatural way of speaking, Anyanka. It takes a
bit of getting used to. Plus, you've always been honest, and many people
aren't used to that, as well. I bet you have many repeat customers, don't
you?" At the blonde's nod, Hope continued, "It's because of that honesty
and your amiable nature, not to mention your knowledge on magickal
periphenalia. You're knowledgeable, and people like salespeople who
know that they're talking about."
"How can I make first time customers feel more welcome,
though?"
Hope grinned, "Simple, when they walk in, let them wander for
a few minutes. If they're looking for something specific, they'll ask you
where to find it. If they seem unsure, approach them, and ask them,
'Hi, is there something I can help you with?' or 'Hi? What can I do for
you?' It makes them feel like their needs are more important."
Anya nodded, but seemed a bit confused. "What if they have
a spell in mind, but don't know the components for it? Or have the wrong
component?"
"Well, if they have an ingredient that isn't as effective, gently
suggest a different ingredient, citing that it will work better for them. If they
don't know the spell they need, but know the results they want, let them
know in a friendly way the spell components and the exact spell they need.
Do you have a photocopier?"
"Yes, it's upstair with the rest of the books."
"Then offer to photocopy the spell for them."
"But isn't that subservient?"
"That's the point of being a salesperson. You are here to let them
know what they would need for a certain spell, what spell they would need
to gain certain results, and basically help them."
"Oh. That would mean that I've only been getting the job half-right
all this time." Anya muttered, depressed. Hope put an arm around Anya's
shoulder and led her behind the counter.
"You'll get it right in time. Besides, you do well with the half you've
gotten right." Anya smiled slightly and nodded. "Now, what's with this human
thing? From what I hear, you've become human twice now."
"Yes, well, the first time, my pendant was broken. The second time,
I.. fell in love with a mortal." Expecting a shocked or angered string of
expletives to erupt from Hope's mouth, Anya grimace and cringed.
"Oh. Cool. Is he nice?"
"Yes, but, Hope, you've changed. You'd have killed me for saying
that a couple centuries ago."
"Hmm... that was then, this is now. Now, If you'll excuse me, I
have to find a hotel to stay in while I'm here. Bloody places smell of cheap
perfume and pretenses. Reminds me of a Cajun I once new."
"Hope, do you realize you slipped in and out of your accent?"
"More like triple backflipped," a voice said from behind Hope. She
turned and met a pair of brownish-hazel eyes.
"Oh! I'm sorry, did you need anything, sir?" He smirked at her
slightly reproachful behaviour.
"Simply my girlfriend from behind the counter."
"You're the boyfriend!" She turned to Anya, "Oh, he's cute. Good
choice, Aun."
She turned back around and he extended his hand, "Xander Harris,
boyfriend and contractor extraordinaire. Pleased to meet ya... ehh...??"
"Hope," she supplied with a small laugh. "I'm Hope, don't have a
last name, but I slice, I dice, and I make julienne fries. Not to mention a pretty
mean Manhattan. I'm a friend of Anya's."
"Cool, so what's with the schitzo accent thing?"
"I've lived just about everywhere, so my accent comes and goes."
"Hope needs a place to stay, so I was thinking of taking her in while
she visits."
"Aun, is she? Hope, when you said friend, did you mean demony
goodness?"
"Kind of, yes, but I'm not demon completely. I was borne about
two hundred years ago, when I was 5. I was dying of cancer, and I was
offered to live again. I accepted and the only stipulation is that I age
slower than everyone else."
"When you say older, you mean..."
"I've aged fourteen mortal years in the span of two hundred years."
"Good to know. So you're not evil?"
"No, just plain ol' Hope."
"Okay, Aun, she's good. Definitely roommate material." Xander
turned to Hope and motioned at Anya. "You're staying with her, right? I
would say that you're the most normal friend, and you seem like a good
influence, and..."
"Xan?"
"Yeah, Aun?"
"When did you turn into my mom?" He did a double take at her
pleasantly normal speech. His head swiveled between Anya and Hope,
confused.
Finally, words came out. Pointing at Hope, wagging his finger,
he said in a low voice, "You... you're good. You're staying with her."
"Yes'm," Hope replied with a grin and salute. Anya snickered
and pretended to find something behind the counter.
"Women..." he muttered. He soon realized that both Anya and
Hope were glaring at him. He chuckled nervously, "They deserve the
world?" The two women exchanged glances and nodded complacently,
going back to what they were doing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Anya, that was fabulous!" Xander exclaimed, relishing the taste
still left in his mouth from dinner. Poached salmon with lemon and orange
marinade and rosemary, red wine, and baked potatoes. For dessert, a
rich chocolate mousse. All made by Anya.
"Hope taught me. Actually, she just gave me a recipe book I
could understand. There's none of that 'pinch of this', 'teaspoon of that'
language. I can understand the measurements of ingredients now. It's
now 'a dorankyo of this', 'a moulsith of that'."
"Aun, I think your cooking before was great, and you're a
wonderful person. I also think Hope brings out the best in you. You seem
happier with who you are and where you're at in life, and not so... out of
touch with reality."
Anya smiled and blushed a bit, turning around to do the dishes.
Xander came up behind her and put his arms around her waist and on her
hands. "Let me," he whispered, and gently put his hands back on her waist,
slightly moving her. "You relax, and I'll do the dishes." Anya reached up and
kissed his earlobe lightly. "Now now, you do that and no dishes will get
done, also, no relaxing."
"Alexander Harris, one would think that was a threat," she
smiled, feigning innocence.
He kissed her full on the lips and grinned, "More like a
promise." Sure enough, no dishes were done that night, and definitely no
one relaxed.
Hope grinned as she moved away from the scrying pool. Anya
deserved to be happier, she deserved to be human and have Xander
and be happy and have many babies.
She had lied to Anya about going out to see the sights, and
had actually taken her key to get into the Magic Box. There, she
could scrye in peace.
William had never showed up to the shoppe that day, as he
was supposed to. Anya supposed he had slept in, meaning he was
now a vampire. 'Wonderful,' the half-demon thought to herself. For
centuries, she had lied to Anyanka, and now, she lied to the
ex-demon's soulmate.
Cursing under her breath in Draconic, she ended the flow
of energies that had been coursing through her. "I'm gettin' too old
for this crap," and with that sentence, she had closed up the
shoppe and walked toward the sound of thumping bass and many
voices.
"When the cat's away, the mice will play. Honey, I'm home,"
she said to herself as she caught sight of the Bronze. Sunnydale
had a nightlife after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let me know what you think. Review or email me at [email protected]