Anya walked up the walk to the front door of the Magic Box, savoring the moment. After I've run this place for years and years, she wondered, will it still give me a thrill, like the little 'zip' I feel when Xander looks at me? Or will all those things start to get old, as I do?
As a demon, she hadn't really settled down for any length of time—'get in, do the job, get out' was kind of the vengeance demon's credo. No one really minded if you stuck around for a while to take pride in your work, but it was considered rather unprofessional to dwell on any one act of vengeance for too long. Such a fixation fairly smacked of….emotional involvement. The ultimate taboo.
"Efficiency, not empathy!" That was what D'Hoffryn had always told her.
So it still came as a surprise that she never tired of the feeling it gave her to stick her key in the lock of the shop door every morning—no matter that she never had any customers this early on Saturday mornings! Opening up still gave her that rush…kind of a 'this-is-really-(almost)-all-mine' euphoria—like orgasms, or counting the money in the cash register… Those thoughts brought a dreamy smile to her face. Maybe her demonic memories were starting to fade, but…she was pretty sure these mortal pleasures were even more fun than that one time she'd taken vengeance on the Medieval prince, with the green puss and maggots…
Wait…that's not right…
The key didn't turn like it was supposed to… The door was already unlocked!
No thought of fear ever crossed her mind. In the town atop the Hellmouth, with its mystical infestations and frequent invasions by the hordes of Hell itself, the former demoness had had no real experience with armed intruders bent on 'mere' theft. And demons didn't usually pick locks…or leave doors intact, for that matter. Anya was filled with a sudden rage, that anyone would DARE to set foot in her shop without permission—!
She flung the unlocked door open; the cheerful tinkle of the bell was swiftly followed by the BANG of the door slamming into the wall. Her face was fearsomely red as she screamed, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU, AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY SHOP?!?!?"
At her unexpected outburst, the shop suddenly echoed with a loud thump and a heartfelt, "Bloody hell!"
Anya blinked. It was much darker inside than out, especially with the morning's bright sunlight. "Giles?"
The black leather-clad figure on his back behind the research table gritted his teeth and rubbed the back of his blond head gingerly. "Do I look like the bloody Watcher?!"
"Oh! Hi, Spike," the ex-demon replied, ire replaced by her usual perkiness. "What are you doing on the floor?"
"Checking the ceiling for water damage—what does it look like?" Spike pulled himself into a sitting position, the better to glare at her. "I was just sitting here, minding my own bloody research, when some silly bint starts huffin' an' puffin' an' bustin' the door down, and I go tumblin' ass over fangs…"
"Had your feet up on the table again, didn't you?"
The vampire paused in his pained tirade, catching sight of his audience's amused expression. "Never mind," he sighed, stretching. "S'pose I was dozing off a bit. What time is it?"
"Almost nine," Anya chirped brightly, making her way behind the counter. "Almost time for the shop to open!" She fussed over the cash register for a moment before Spike's words registered. "Wait—you're researching?"
Spike met her surprise with studied casualness and a carefully raised eyebrow. "Yeah—what of it?"
"Well, research isn't exactly your thing. I mean…well, actually, it's kind of like your 'anti-thing.' Most of the time, me and Xander and Giles do the research, Willow and Tara do the spells, Buffy does the fighting, and you just kind of pace around and look threatening…and say lots of very British things that only Giles seems to understand," the former demon said seriously. She was obviously confused, but still cheerful. "So, what's so important that it's got Captain Peroxide hitting the books?"
Spike's other eyebrow joined the first in a race to see which could hit his hairline first. "'Captain Peroxide'? Oh, very cute, ducks. Lemme guess—got that one from the whelp, right?"
Anya hadn't the grace to blush. "Well, I thought it was very clever of Xander to come up with it," she said defensively. "And anyway, you didn't answer my question!" She sat back in satisfaction, seemingly convinced that she'd won a point.
Spike sighed (just for show). Verbal banter with this particular Scooby was always…a challenge. A challenge you're not up to just now, mate… "Just something a demon mentioned in passing last night, to me an' the Slayer," he admitted. "Something about a Kneeling, or some such thing…sounded important, so I told Buffy I'd come in an' look things over, so she could get some shut-eye…"
He trailed off uncertainly at the new look on Anya's face. All the color had drained from her cheeks, her eyes were wide, and she looked like she might faint.
"Hey…you alright, pet? Look like you just saw a ghost." He tried on a small smirk. "I mean, I may be dead, but I'm a bit more substantial than all that…"
"Um, Spike," she began, licking her lips nervously, "that demon…did he maybe say 'the Annealing'?" She enunciated the words very slowly and carefully, so he could hear the difference.
Spike snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "That was it! I knew 'kneeling' wasn't right, somehow!"
There was an audible gulp from Anya's direction. "The Annealing…" she breathed, as if to herself.
Spike was—to coin a Scooby phrase—starting to get a bit wigged by the girl's antics. Cor, I'm even starting to *think* like one of the bloody white-hats… "C'mon, ducks, what's got your knickers all in a twist?"
Anya didn't even blink in response. Her face remained pale as Spike's own, and her voice was low and even, and decidedly un-chipper.
"We need to talk to Giles. Now."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The bell at the Magic Box door tinkled for the third time in fifteen minutes as Giles slowly entered. Willow and Xander had already arrived, only to have Anya send Xander right back out the door again—with drink-and-doughnut orders. And judging from the look on the Watcher's face, Spike mused, the 'lots of caffeine' directive was a good idea…
Willow suppressed a yawn as she joined Spike in eyeing Giles warily. "Um, Giles?"
The Watcher's noncommittal response was halfway between a grunt and a snore.
The red-head's brows knitted in concern, as Giles staggered over to a convenient chair and collapsed into it. "Are you okay? You aren't looking quite…yourself."
Spike smirked at the elder Brit. "Yeah…lookin' a bit zombie-like, mate."
Giles rolled a scalding eyeball in the vampire's direction and scrubbed a hand over his face. Speaking around a very dry tongue, he finally managed to grind out, "Once I've had my morning tea, whoever is responsible for getting me up at this infernal hour on a Saturday will be required to provide me with a very good reason…"
Anya chirped at him from behind the counter. "Oh, that would be me! And Spike." She puffed up considerably, with a proud smile. "But it was really all my idea!"
The actual content of Giles' garbled response was partly (luckily) masked by the bell once more, as Xander reappeared, chatting with Buffy and Dawn. Skipping lightly down the steps, Buffy broke off their conversation and snagged one steaming cup from Xander's tray. Delivering it considerately into Giles' eager hands, she turned back to address the rest of the gang. "Okay, now that Giles is getting his liquid 'oomph,' he ought to be good for something in a few minutes. Mind telling me why I had to drag a very cranky sister out of bed on a weekend?"
Dawn's head shot up at that. "Hey! You're the one who kept 'accidentally' falling back into bed, while I made breakfast!"
Buffy's eyebrow cocked in Dawn's general direction. "I don't think that a mug of chocolate milk and a handful of Cocoa Puffs really counts as 'breakfast.' 'Sugar rush,' maybe…"
Dawn's only response was to stick out her tongue at her sister.
Willow interrupted the pair before the situation could descend any further into familiar 'immature siblings' territory. "Okay, all well and good, but I'm still wondering: Anya, Spike…why are we all here?" She nodded her thanks as Xander handed her a styrofoam cup of coffee and a glazed doughnut.
Spike got as far as opening his mouth to explain, when Anya jumped in enthusiastically. "Oh, it was so exciting," she raved. "I was on my way into the shop this morning, and when I got there, the door was unlocked! So I very courageously burst in and attacked the intruder, only…"
The peroxide-blond was fast losing patience with the former vengeance demon's prattle. "Only it wasn't a bloody intruder," he interrupted. "It was me, just sitting here, doing some research, minding my own bloody business when this insane, screaming little bint busts in and bloody near roasts me with the sunlight!" He finished with a pointed glare in Anya's direction.
"Well, sorry!" she responded tartly. "I guess I'm just supposed to know that it's you, and not some evil, slimy, fangy hell-beast intent on robbing me of my inventory…or my hard-earned profits?"
"Well, if you'd bloody look before you go into the 'scream and leap' routine…!"
Giles' hand slapped loudly against the surface of the table, startling the two combatants into momentary silence. "Well," he began very slowly and carefully, "I'm sure we're all relieved to know that the cash register is safe, and Spike is not dust. But…we are still waiting for an explanation."
The quasi-demonic pair had the grace to look chastened, and Spike quickly filled the group in on the Fluorescent Uglies he and Buffy had fought, and the third one's odd conversational tendencies. "So, I was here researching when Anya came in, and she recognized the thing the demon-guy said, and told me to get y'all here, like it was the end of the world or something."
Anya spoke almost gently into the silence. "Well…it is."
But Giles was still focused on Spike's narrative. "Wait…Spike, you said you were in here…researching?"
Xander had caught that, too. "Since when did Deadboy, Jr. become Mr. Research Man? Did I wake up on the wrong side of the dimension this morning?"
"Spike, you don't even like being in the same room as books!" Willow put in.
Buffy burst out laughing.
The vampire laid his head down and began beating it rhythmically on the table. "Yes! I was doing research!" Raising his head and glaring around at the group, he went on, "Believe it or not, the brain-dead vamp can read! Spike read real good! And there weren't any good infomercials on the telly at three-thirty in the morning, so I had nothing better to do! Alright?!?"
"Of course, if you say so, Spike…!"
"Sure, whatever, Peroxide Boy…"
"Oh, alright…sure…"
Buffy was still giggling. She eyed the vampire through her lashes. "Can I say 'I told you so'? Please???"
Spike's growl was far from sincere, as was the muted glare he threw in the Slayer's direction. "No."
Giles cleared his throat noisily. "Ahem…well, to return to the topic at hand…Anya, you say you recognized this phrase, 'the Annealing'? What can you tell us about it?"
Anya looked right back at Giles as if that was the stupidest question she'd ever heard in all her thousand-plus years of existence. "Well, it's…the Annealing!" She looked around at the sea of blank faces watching her quizzically. "What, none of you have heard of it?"
The sea of blank faces transformed into a pool of exchanged glances and shaking heads.
"Well, it's…" Anya seemed to be floundering in the wake of their incomprehension. "I mean, the older demons in Arash'mahar used to tell us stories about it. I remember sitting on D'Hoffryn's knee once, right after I was made a demon and they still considered me a child. I always wondered about that…I mean, I was still a grown woman, right?"
She caught herself as Spike began thumping his head on the table again. "Oh, sorry…anyway, he used to tell us all about how if we were very bad little demons and demonesses, we'd be rewarded…but if we weren't awful enough, one day we'd be punished. If we weren't cruel enough, or had mercy on mortals, or let our former humanity override our nice, evil demonic tendencies, then we'd be helping the Time of the Annealing come that much sooner. He used to talk about it like it was the end of the world. He said there would be lots of—oh, I dunno—light…and pain, I think, and we'd be miserable for all eternity."
Spike was still trying to wrap his brain around the idea of D'Hoffryn telling fairy tales to baby demons on his knee—I mean, with the horns, and that poncey goat-beard?—when the Watcher spoke up in frustration. "Yes, yes, I'm sure it was quite terrifying for you, but what exactly is the 'Annealing'?"
Anya stamped her foot in annoyance. "I don't know! I figured you would! I mean, you're Mr. 'I-Can-Figure-Out-Anything' Guy, with the books and the Watcher stuff and the research…"
Giles removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, as all the other Scoobies began talking at once.
"Oh, thanks, Anya…you're real helpful! A bottomless pit of 'useless'!"
"Bloody hell, girl! Why couldn't you mention this sooner?!?"
"Geez, and you guys say I'm no help? How come you let her help research, and not me?"
"Ahn, honey…we need to have another little talk about the right way to share information…"
Only Buffy held her peace—because her 'Slayer radar', as she liked to think of it, started pinging. Something's near…something not-human. Beneath the ever-present hum her Slayer senses registered at Spike's presence, there was another, more sinister 'blip' that set her nerves on edge. It's getting closer…
The bell at the shop door tinkled cheerfully. The rest of the gang were oblivious, still engrossed in their verbal free-for-all. Willow's 'resolve voice' momentarily rose above the rest: "So, how are we going to find out about this 'Annealing,' since Anya's obviously no help…?"
A new voice, rich and resonant, rang out from the space near the door, cutting across all the Scooby babble in an instant.
"I think I might be able to help you with that, hon."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~