Xander pulled up by Anya's apartment. She had kept it since the lease was still good, despite the fact she was all but living with Xander now. They had agreed to wait till after they were married. But now that was something that was never going to happen.
*No, let it go. For Godsakes, she's _murdered_ before. She killed _you._* He took a deep breath before plunging into the place. It was easy enough since she had given him a spare key several months back. He opened the drawers, and peered in. No, it didn't look like it was here. Her revolver wasn't here. She must have taken it with her. Which meant he should grab his own gun, but he didn't think there would be time. And he didn't want to think what he might have to do with it. He remembered her giving it to him for his birthday. Odd present, but she said she thought he could use some extra protection. He hugged her at the time, knowing that she cared about him. And he had to admit, not everything dangerous in Sunnydale was demonic necessarily. Experience only proved the dangers of the human variety.
He was shaken from his memories as he searched her desk, and saw a corner of what looked like a box. His hands clutched upon the object, fumbling a little. It was a jewelry box. His hands shook slightly as he lifted up the wooden top. His eyes widened at the necklace glinting in the low light. His fingers brushed cold metal, and then tightened around the pendant and braided chain. His eyes closed…
She had been ready to fall asleep, too tired to stay up any later. Gregory had been called away on an emergency. One of the neighbors in the apartment building had a bad fever. Like so many others in these hard times, they were very poor, and had asked him to make a house call. Eager to help someone again, he readily agreed to supply the free care.
Catherine had wanted to stay up, and wait for him. However, she was very tired. She had gotten a temporary job as a secretary, but the long hours drained her. She glanced up, hearing footsteps nearby. She hurriedly sat up, and made a few passing sweeps of her fingers through her hair to smooth the slightly tousled mane.
"Gregory? Darling, I hadn't heard you come in." She smiled at first, but it quickly melted away at the figure approached her. It looked like him, but his eyes were so strange. Cold and distant as the moon.
"For you," the Gregory figure rasped, and she screamed, seeing the knife plunging toward her. Pain erupted in her chest, and side. Then, as her blood pooled beneath her body, her dimming vision saw a grotesque, vaguely feminine creature grabbing at her throat. She couldn't feel anything by this point, except a sense of fading, like a badly tuned radio signal. As she died, she thought she heard her husband screaming her name. She wanted to go to him, but then the darkness carried her away.
Xander's eyes snapped open, and he shoved the pendant into his jean pocket. He rushed outside, not even bothering with shutting doors behind him. He raced downstairs, leaping several steps at a time, and nearly falling as a result. He hit the ground floor running, and didn't stop until he was back in his car. He slammed the door shut, jammed the key into the ignition, and peeled out of the parking lot. The screeching sound of wheels shifting gears, and the vile stench of burning rubber filled the night.
*No, let it go. For Godsakes, she's _murdered_ before. She killed _you._* He took a deep breath before plunging into the place. It was easy enough since she had given him a spare key several months back. He opened the drawers, and peered in. No, it didn't look like it was here. Her revolver wasn't here. She must have taken it with her. Which meant he should grab his own gun, but he didn't think there would be time. And he didn't want to think what he might have to do with it. He remembered her giving it to him for his birthday. Odd present, but she said she thought he could use some extra protection. He hugged her at the time, knowing that she cared about him. And he had to admit, not everything dangerous in Sunnydale was demonic necessarily. Experience only proved the dangers of the human variety.
He was shaken from his memories as he searched her desk, and saw a corner of what looked like a box. His hands clutched upon the object, fumbling a little. It was a jewelry box. His hands shook slightly as he lifted up the wooden top. His eyes widened at the necklace glinting in the low light. His fingers brushed cold metal, and then tightened around the pendant and braided chain. His eyes closed…
She had been ready to fall asleep, too tired to stay up any later. Gregory had been called away on an emergency. One of the neighbors in the apartment building had a bad fever. Like so many others in these hard times, they were very poor, and had asked him to make a house call. Eager to help someone again, he readily agreed to supply the free care.
Catherine had wanted to stay up, and wait for him. However, she was very tired. She had gotten a temporary job as a secretary, but the long hours drained her. She glanced up, hearing footsteps nearby. She hurriedly sat up, and made a few passing sweeps of her fingers through her hair to smooth the slightly tousled mane.
"Gregory? Darling, I hadn't heard you come in." She smiled at first, but it quickly melted away at the figure approached her. It looked like him, but his eyes were so strange. Cold and distant as the moon.
"For you," the Gregory figure rasped, and she screamed, seeing the knife plunging toward her. Pain erupted in her chest, and side. Then, as her blood pooled beneath her body, her dimming vision saw a grotesque, vaguely feminine creature grabbing at her throat. She couldn't feel anything by this point, except a sense of fading, like a badly tuned radio signal. As she died, she thought she heard her husband screaming her name. She wanted to go to him, but then the darkness carried her away.
Xander's eyes snapped open, and he shoved the pendant into his jean pocket. He rushed outside, not even bothering with shutting doors behind him. He raced downstairs, leaping several steps at a time, and nearly falling as a result. He hit the ground floor running, and didn't stop until he was back in his car. He slammed the door shut, jammed the key into the ignition, and peeled out of the parking lot. The screeching sound of wheels shifting gears, and the vile stench of burning rubber filled the night.