TITLE: "Said she'd be back"
AUTHOR: Betty Woo (lwa@rocketmail.com)
RATING: PG, non-specific reference to violence & sex in some chapters
SPOILERS: post-episode 7.3
FEEDBACK: Five by five. I don't have a beta reader for this fic, so comments about how I can improve the story are always much appreciated.
DISCLAIMER: Mutant Enemy made this universe, I'm just taking a non-profit tour.
CHARACTERS: Willow & Anya (is anyone else as excited about 7.5 as I am? Woo Anya!)
CHAPTER TWELVE - Back in the Box
Anya was pleasantly surprised to see Willow picking her way through the wreckage of the Magic Box. Although she had offered her assistance in clearing up the mess, Anya hadn't actually expected her to show up, especially so soon after getting her skin peeled off by a demon. Buffy and Dawn had made similar promises of help with no such results, despite not having even a hangnail consumed by a warty hellbeast. Anya had assumed it was all part of the vast mystery of human social interaction otherwise known as "small talk". The name itself confused her, since she didn't see the point of calling something small when it seemed to take up such a large portion of people's time. Especially in light of how limited that time really was, what with mortal lifespans being what they were.
"Hi, Anya." Willow stared directly into the demon's eyes, which made Anya wonder if her assessment of their magick together as sexy might be more accurate than the redhead was letting on. On second thought, Willow seemed focused mainly on not looking around at the wreckage of the Magic Box.
"Willow. You came. That's very friend-like of you."
"I figured cleaning would help alleviate my guilt even better than baking, in this case."
The two girls stared at one another across the scorched remains of the familiar shop. It had been so long since someone had come to speak with Anya in a non-lecturing capacity that she was finding herself at a loss for words, while Willow was busy trying to squelch the little part of her brain that was worried the demon might suddenly decide to turn her internal organs into tapioca.
"Right," said Anya, breaking the silence with forced cheerfulness. "I'd originally tried salvaging anything that wasn't damaged. But then I realized that there was a lot more stuff that was damaged, so now I'm trying to clean that out instead."
Willow finally tore her eyes away from Anya to take in the rest of the shop. Even with her memories of having torn the place apart, the extent of the damage was surprising. Not a single shelf was still standing, books and artifacts strewn across the floor in random piles. The second floor balcony had collapsed down onto the back of the store, and the broken remains of the table that had been the center of so many Scooby meetings was slammed up against the far wall. The moldering smell of soggy paper and damp herbs indicated that the damaged roof had failed to keep out Sunnydale's infrequent rain, and shards of glass from the shattered windows had been swept into haphazard piles around the room.
"Wow. Um, so where do you want me to start?"
"Candles and incense," Anya responded. "Unless it's not safe for you to be around that stuff."
"It's safe." Willow grabbed a cardboard box from the stack next to the old cash counter and started rooting through the sticky mess of old candles and stinky resins on the floor.
Anya leaned up against the counter and watched the redhead work. It seemed rather strange to her, the idea of Willow being so helpful when the others, well, weren't. "How safe?"
"I really wi..." Willow caught herself before the word slipped out. No wishing around the vengeance demon, she scolded herself mentally. "I'm just getting tired of everyone asking me that."
"Well, maybe you'll keep that in mind the next time you have an urge to destroy the world."
"I'm not." Candles, Willow. Focus on the candles. She felt momentarily grateful that her best friend hadn't gone ahead with his marriage to the incredibly annoying one, but squelched it down with a major helping of guilt and a side order of remorse.
"But you could, and it makes people nervous." Anya nodded. "I get that a lot too."
'No offense, Anya, and please don't turn me into anything crawly for saying this, but you do hurt people. It's, like, part of your job description."
"People who deserve it."
"Yeah, well. I thought that way about Warren."
"If you're going to get all judgmental, you can just leave." Anya grabbed a box from the counter and stomped to the back of the room. She began throwing ruined books into the box, deliberately slamming them down to create a banging noise. Funny. It wasn't really that long ago that she would have liquefied someone's eyeballs to vent her annoyance, and she was surprised to discover that the loud noises were just as satisfying.
"I, I wasn't trying to be judgmental. Honest. I'm the last person who should be trying on long robes and funny wigs these days."
"Apology accepted." Anya stopped dumping books in the box, realizing that she actually did feel better. It was creepy and disturbing, along with the feeling better part. Something was definitely wrong. She was tempted to leave the store right now, but then Willow would probably ask her what was wrong. Or even worse, want to leave with her, meaning that she'd stop cleaning up. Given all the expenses of getting the store cleared out, turning away free labor seemed somehow wrong. With a shrug, Anya turned back to the books. She'd deal with it later.
AUTHOR: Betty Woo (lwa@rocketmail.com)
RATING: PG, non-specific reference to violence & sex in some chapters
SPOILERS: post-episode 7.3
FEEDBACK: Five by five. I don't have a beta reader for this fic, so comments about how I can improve the story are always much appreciated.
DISCLAIMER: Mutant Enemy made this universe, I'm just taking a non-profit tour.
CHARACTERS: Willow & Anya (is anyone else as excited about 7.5 as I am? Woo Anya!)
CHAPTER TWELVE - Back in the Box
Anya was pleasantly surprised to see Willow picking her way through the wreckage of the Magic Box. Although she had offered her assistance in clearing up the mess, Anya hadn't actually expected her to show up, especially so soon after getting her skin peeled off by a demon. Buffy and Dawn had made similar promises of help with no such results, despite not having even a hangnail consumed by a warty hellbeast. Anya had assumed it was all part of the vast mystery of human social interaction otherwise known as "small talk". The name itself confused her, since she didn't see the point of calling something small when it seemed to take up such a large portion of people's time. Especially in light of how limited that time really was, what with mortal lifespans being what they were.
"Hi, Anya." Willow stared directly into the demon's eyes, which made Anya wonder if her assessment of their magick together as sexy might be more accurate than the redhead was letting on. On second thought, Willow seemed focused mainly on not looking around at the wreckage of the Magic Box.
"Willow. You came. That's very friend-like of you."
"I figured cleaning would help alleviate my guilt even better than baking, in this case."
The two girls stared at one another across the scorched remains of the familiar shop. It had been so long since someone had come to speak with Anya in a non-lecturing capacity that she was finding herself at a loss for words, while Willow was busy trying to squelch the little part of her brain that was worried the demon might suddenly decide to turn her internal organs into tapioca.
"Right," said Anya, breaking the silence with forced cheerfulness. "I'd originally tried salvaging anything that wasn't damaged. But then I realized that there was a lot more stuff that was damaged, so now I'm trying to clean that out instead."
Willow finally tore her eyes away from Anya to take in the rest of the shop. Even with her memories of having torn the place apart, the extent of the damage was surprising. Not a single shelf was still standing, books and artifacts strewn across the floor in random piles. The second floor balcony had collapsed down onto the back of the store, and the broken remains of the table that had been the center of so many Scooby meetings was slammed up against the far wall. The moldering smell of soggy paper and damp herbs indicated that the damaged roof had failed to keep out Sunnydale's infrequent rain, and shards of glass from the shattered windows had been swept into haphazard piles around the room.
"Wow. Um, so where do you want me to start?"
"Candles and incense," Anya responded. "Unless it's not safe for you to be around that stuff."
"It's safe." Willow grabbed a cardboard box from the stack next to the old cash counter and started rooting through the sticky mess of old candles and stinky resins on the floor.
Anya leaned up against the counter and watched the redhead work. It seemed rather strange to her, the idea of Willow being so helpful when the others, well, weren't. "How safe?"
"I really wi..." Willow caught herself before the word slipped out. No wishing around the vengeance demon, she scolded herself mentally. "I'm just getting tired of everyone asking me that."
"Well, maybe you'll keep that in mind the next time you have an urge to destroy the world."
"I'm not." Candles, Willow. Focus on the candles. She felt momentarily grateful that her best friend hadn't gone ahead with his marriage to the incredibly annoying one, but squelched it down with a major helping of guilt and a side order of remorse.
"But you could, and it makes people nervous." Anya nodded. "I get that a lot too."
'No offense, Anya, and please don't turn me into anything crawly for saying this, but you do hurt people. It's, like, part of your job description."
"People who deserve it."
"Yeah, well. I thought that way about Warren."
"If you're going to get all judgmental, you can just leave." Anya grabbed a box from the counter and stomped to the back of the room. She began throwing ruined books into the box, deliberately slamming them down to create a banging noise. Funny. It wasn't really that long ago that she would have liquefied someone's eyeballs to vent her annoyance, and she was surprised to discover that the loud noises were just as satisfying.
"I, I wasn't trying to be judgmental. Honest. I'm the last person who should be trying on long robes and funny wigs these days."
"Apology accepted." Anya stopped dumping books in the box, realizing that she actually did feel better. It was creepy and disturbing, along with the feeling better part. Something was definitely wrong. She was tempted to leave the store right now, but then Willow would probably ask her what was wrong. Or even worse, want to leave with her, meaning that she'd stop cleaning up. Given all the expenses of getting the store cleared out, turning away free labor seemed somehow wrong. With a shrug, Anya turned back to the books. She'd deal with it later.