A/N: Longer part, and this is rated PG-13 for the graphic content.
Willow frowned, noting the sad expression on Anya's face. "What's wrong?" She backed away to admit the other woman.
Anya walked in, her steps hesitant, and faltering upon the plush carpeting. She turned to face Willow, revealing dried tear marks trailing alongside her face.
Willow quietly asked, "Was it Xander? What did he do?" She sat down, and gestured Anya to do the same.
She nodded silently, and then said urgently as she sat down in a folding chair, "I had to come and see you. I'm scared, and I'm worried what he might do. He told me about your past lives, and how he thinks you're going to kill him. I tried talking to him, saying you wouldn't. But his face," She closed her eyes, and gave an inward shudder. Her eyes slowly opened, the orbs wide as they looked back at Willow's blue eyes. "He started arguing and yelling. He's changed. I should have known he would. He seemed so nice, but how many men I cursed seemed so nice in the beginning, and then became so cruel?"
Willow shook her head, "No, Xander's not like that. He's never been like that." He never would hurt her. He doesn't get angry like that. …Wait, he did get angry. After Mrs. Summers died, he was so angry that he punched the wall in Willow's dorm. She didn't know he was capable of that. It seemed something more like what his father would do. And Xander did have a good reason, because he was upset over her death. They all were upset… but he punched the wall. She just fretted about what to wear, and he acted violently. Maybe she didn't really know him as well as she thought. They had drifted apart after all. She's changed a lot, why shouldn't he?
Anya observed Willow's troubled thoughts flickering across her face, and quietly echoed the same thoughts. "See? People changed. I've seen it for thousands of years. Why should now be any different? He wants to hurt you. Maybe me too."
Willow resolutely said, "No, he won't. I won't let him." She felt the familiar spark of power rising as her anger and determination grew. She let it grow, feeding it with her emotions.
Then, there was knocking at the door.
"Willow? Will, are you there? I need to talk to you! It's important."
Anya shrank into her chair, "Oh no, he's here. He's coming for us."
Willow reassured, "It's ok, you hide so he doesn't see you." She then yelled out, "Go away Xander. Just leave me alone!"
Xander pleaded urgently, "C'mon on, Will? Please open the door. I have to talk to you. You're in danger."
"I won't let you hurt me," She shouted back, her stance matching her "resolve face."
Outside the door, Xander cursed under his breath, and then backed away from the door. He lowered his shoulder, and ran up, ramming his body against the door. The brass hinges protested against the impact, but did not give. It took three more attempts before the door finally collapsed into the room, and Xander stumbled in.
Willow called out, her eyes becoming black, "Stay away from me!"
Xander held his hands up before him as he slowly walked towards her. "Just let me explain."
"No!"
He took a deep breath, and then blurted out, "Gregory didn't do it."
She stared back at him, and he added, "He didn't kill Catherine. He was out tending a patient." His hand reached into his jean pocket, fingers straining and fumbling in the thick fabric. His fingertips finally touched metal that had been warmed by the close proximity to his body heat. He started pulling out the necklace, adding, "Look, I got this for you."
But even as his hand emerged, clutching the strand, she brought her hands up, and cried out a single phrase in Latin. A massive wave of energy came from her palms, and slammed Xander's frame into the wall behind him. His head rocked back at impact with a sickening crack, and he sank onto the floor. Willow slowly approached him, her entire body shaking with power, and emotion. Her eyes spied a glint of metal on his hand, and she knelt down, seeing braided metal draped across his fingers. Her fingers reached out, and picked up the chain. Her eyes widened at the sight of the pendent gleaming there.
"What have I done?"
Gregory had just finishing tending to Mr. Martin, when he heard a scream rip through the thin walls of the apartment building. It sounded like, oh God, Catherine? He got up, and hurriedly said goodbye, racing through the hallway, screaming Catherine's name as he ran into their apartment. The doors were opened, and he didn't stop running until he reached the bedroom. He stopped in shock, seeing blood everywhere. Long loopy trails were sprayed across the walls, and the bed. The sheets were so saturated that it seemed like they were always red. And his wife… no… he could see that she had been cruelly eviscerated, her heart missing. Where? There was a gaping maw where her chest was, and the cavity itself was empty, as though somebody plucked the organ as easily as plucking fruit.
A raspy voice asked, "Looking for this?" His terrified face beheld the horrific image of a creature that looked as though her veins were sculpted onto her body. She smiled languidly as she held a beating heart, which was now slowing in her hand as the blood trailed down her arm.
"What in God's name are you?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper in his bone-dry mouth.
"Vengeance." She replied, and disappeared in a flash of light.
Hot tears splashed down her face, emerging from her once again blue eyes.
"No," she softly cried. He wasn't dead, he can't be. She turned around suddenly hearing footsteps approaching. She glanced up at Anya, who was standing there.
"I… attacked him."
Anya nodded, "He shouldn't have been hurt, but he made his choice." She then held up her revolver, her hands covered by gloves. "You stole him from me. Just like Catherine stole Gregory from Hannah."
Willow stared back at her, "You. It was you all along."
"She wished it. She wished that he suffered like she did. To lose everything. His job, his wife, his life. Everything." She then cocked the safety off, and slid her finger into the trigger. "Just like you. And you said that it was over between you two. "
"No, don't do this. I thought you love him?"
"I do." She coldly replied, and fired. Willow felt the bullet hit her in the side, pain searing through the wound. Black and red globules appeared at the edge of her vision as the pain screamed through her. Finally overcome, her eyes closed.
Xander's eyes flickered open, and he glanced over seeing Willow shot.
"Willow!" He cried out, and went to check her, trying to forget his concussion for a moment.
"Xander."
He glanced up at the sound of his name, and saw Anya holding her gun.
"You. Why?" He gaped back at his fiancée with anguish, fear, and horror blending upon his pale face.
She resolutely replied, "She took you from me. I can't allow that. I won't."
He tried to get up, and stopped briefly as his surroundings spun sickly. He held up a hand, the palm facing Anya as he finally stood shakily.
"Anya, please don't do this." He begged her earnestly. "Look, let me call an ambulance at least. We'll get you some help along with Willow."
The revolver swung in his direction, and she spat out, "Let her die. Everybody pays attention to her. She tried hurting all of you, and you forgive her. Can you honestly say you'd ever do that for me?" The barrel shook a bit as tears scalded her face. "I was always a burden. Always, 'Anya, not now.' 'Be quiet, Anya.' 'You don't know tact, you don't know how to be human.'" Her eyes gleamed as she said, "None of you understood me." Xander opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head, "Not even you, Xander. I thought you did, and maybe you knew me better than them. Maybe even loved me once. But not like her. Never like her." She aimed the gun right at him squarely, "Goodbye, Xander."
Before she could fire, he ducked low, and leapt toward her. He tried to wrestle the gun from her, and a violent tug of war began between them. She wrenched the gun and his arms one way, and he would do the same in the opposite direction. Time slowed to a crawl as they fought, his mind remembering a shadowy figure attacking him, and Anya reaching for his throat. His hand closed upon the gun finally, and the shot nearly deafened them both as it rang out. The pair flew backwards from each other, and drops of blood dripped onto the floor beneath their feet. The trio laid silently, a bloody and strange triangle displayed.
Willow frowned, noting the sad expression on Anya's face. "What's wrong?" She backed away to admit the other woman.
Anya walked in, her steps hesitant, and faltering upon the plush carpeting. She turned to face Willow, revealing dried tear marks trailing alongside her face.
Willow quietly asked, "Was it Xander? What did he do?" She sat down, and gestured Anya to do the same.
She nodded silently, and then said urgently as she sat down in a folding chair, "I had to come and see you. I'm scared, and I'm worried what he might do. He told me about your past lives, and how he thinks you're going to kill him. I tried talking to him, saying you wouldn't. But his face," She closed her eyes, and gave an inward shudder. Her eyes slowly opened, the orbs wide as they looked back at Willow's blue eyes. "He started arguing and yelling. He's changed. I should have known he would. He seemed so nice, but how many men I cursed seemed so nice in the beginning, and then became so cruel?"
Willow shook her head, "No, Xander's not like that. He's never been like that." He never would hurt her. He doesn't get angry like that. …Wait, he did get angry. After Mrs. Summers died, he was so angry that he punched the wall in Willow's dorm. She didn't know he was capable of that. It seemed something more like what his father would do. And Xander did have a good reason, because he was upset over her death. They all were upset… but he punched the wall. She just fretted about what to wear, and he acted violently. Maybe she didn't really know him as well as she thought. They had drifted apart after all. She's changed a lot, why shouldn't he?
Anya observed Willow's troubled thoughts flickering across her face, and quietly echoed the same thoughts. "See? People changed. I've seen it for thousands of years. Why should now be any different? He wants to hurt you. Maybe me too."
Willow resolutely said, "No, he won't. I won't let him." She felt the familiar spark of power rising as her anger and determination grew. She let it grow, feeding it with her emotions.
Then, there was knocking at the door.
"Willow? Will, are you there? I need to talk to you! It's important."
Anya shrank into her chair, "Oh no, he's here. He's coming for us."
Willow reassured, "It's ok, you hide so he doesn't see you." She then yelled out, "Go away Xander. Just leave me alone!"
Xander pleaded urgently, "C'mon on, Will? Please open the door. I have to talk to you. You're in danger."
"I won't let you hurt me," She shouted back, her stance matching her "resolve face."
Outside the door, Xander cursed under his breath, and then backed away from the door. He lowered his shoulder, and ran up, ramming his body against the door. The brass hinges protested against the impact, but did not give. It took three more attempts before the door finally collapsed into the room, and Xander stumbled in.
Willow called out, her eyes becoming black, "Stay away from me!"
Xander held his hands up before him as he slowly walked towards her. "Just let me explain."
"No!"
He took a deep breath, and then blurted out, "Gregory didn't do it."
She stared back at him, and he added, "He didn't kill Catherine. He was out tending a patient." His hand reached into his jean pocket, fingers straining and fumbling in the thick fabric. His fingertips finally touched metal that had been warmed by the close proximity to his body heat. He started pulling out the necklace, adding, "Look, I got this for you."
But even as his hand emerged, clutching the strand, she brought her hands up, and cried out a single phrase in Latin. A massive wave of energy came from her palms, and slammed Xander's frame into the wall behind him. His head rocked back at impact with a sickening crack, and he sank onto the floor. Willow slowly approached him, her entire body shaking with power, and emotion. Her eyes spied a glint of metal on his hand, and she knelt down, seeing braided metal draped across his fingers. Her fingers reached out, and picked up the chain. Her eyes widened at the sight of the pendent gleaming there.
"What have I done?"
Gregory had just finishing tending to Mr. Martin, when he heard a scream rip through the thin walls of the apartment building. It sounded like, oh God, Catherine? He got up, and hurriedly said goodbye, racing through the hallway, screaming Catherine's name as he ran into their apartment. The doors were opened, and he didn't stop running until he reached the bedroom. He stopped in shock, seeing blood everywhere. Long loopy trails were sprayed across the walls, and the bed. The sheets were so saturated that it seemed like they were always red. And his wife… no… he could see that she had been cruelly eviscerated, her heart missing. Where? There was a gaping maw where her chest was, and the cavity itself was empty, as though somebody plucked the organ as easily as plucking fruit.
A raspy voice asked, "Looking for this?" His terrified face beheld the horrific image of a creature that looked as though her veins were sculpted onto her body. She smiled languidly as she held a beating heart, which was now slowing in her hand as the blood trailed down her arm.
"What in God's name are you?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper in his bone-dry mouth.
"Vengeance." She replied, and disappeared in a flash of light.
Hot tears splashed down her face, emerging from her once again blue eyes.
"No," she softly cried. He wasn't dead, he can't be. She turned around suddenly hearing footsteps approaching. She glanced up at Anya, who was standing there.
"I… attacked him."
Anya nodded, "He shouldn't have been hurt, but he made his choice." She then held up her revolver, her hands covered by gloves. "You stole him from me. Just like Catherine stole Gregory from Hannah."
Willow stared back at her, "You. It was you all along."
"She wished it. She wished that he suffered like she did. To lose everything. His job, his wife, his life. Everything." She then cocked the safety off, and slid her finger into the trigger. "Just like you. And you said that it was over between you two. "
"No, don't do this. I thought you love him?"
"I do." She coldly replied, and fired. Willow felt the bullet hit her in the side, pain searing through the wound. Black and red globules appeared at the edge of her vision as the pain screamed through her. Finally overcome, her eyes closed.
Xander's eyes flickered open, and he glanced over seeing Willow shot.
"Willow!" He cried out, and went to check her, trying to forget his concussion for a moment.
"Xander."
He glanced up at the sound of his name, and saw Anya holding her gun.
"You. Why?" He gaped back at his fiancée with anguish, fear, and horror blending upon his pale face.
She resolutely replied, "She took you from me. I can't allow that. I won't."
He tried to get up, and stopped briefly as his surroundings spun sickly. He held up a hand, the palm facing Anya as he finally stood shakily.
"Anya, please don't do this." He begged her earnestly. "Look, let me call an ambulance at least. We'll get you some help along with Willow."
The revolver swung in his direction, and she spat out, "Let her die. Everybody pays attention to her. She tried hurting all of you, and you forgive her. Can you honestly say you'd ever do that for me?" The barrel shook a bit as tears scalded her face. "I was always a burden. Always, 'Anya, not now.' 'Be quiet, Anya.' 'You don't know tact, you don't know how to be human.'" Her eyes gleamed as she said, "None of you understood me." Xander opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head, "Not even you, Xander. I thought you did, and maybe you knew me better than them. Maybe even loved me once. But not like her. Never like her." She aimed the gun right at him squarely, "Goodbye, Xander."
Before she could fire, he ducked low, and leapt toward her. He tried to wrestle the gun from her, and a violent tug of war began between them. She wrenched the gun and his arms one way, and he would do the same in the opposite direction. Time slowed to a crawl as they fought, his mind remembering a shadowy figure attacking him, and Anya reaching for his throat. His hand closed upon the gun finally, and the shot nearly deafened them both as it rang out. The pair flew backwards from each other, and drops of blood dripped onto the floor beneath their feet. The trio laid silently, a bloody and strange triangle displayed.