TITLE: Lost
AUTHOR: Spwaddict
E-MAIL: brackish60518@yahoo.com
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Anya watches as they lose Willow. Anya's POV in "Villains".
SPOILERS: "Villains" ....obviously.
DISCLAIMER: Let's break this down for you. Me no Joss. You no Joss. I write for fun. You read for fun. Got that?
NOTES: Vengeance demons and pissed off witches. There is no wrong here.
FEEDBACK: Like a newly human ex-vengeance demon needs literal interpretations....that means, yes please.
~ ~ It feels like I'm being shot.
The pain is sudden but blinding. It rips through me, tearing at my insides, burning my skin. I feel like I'm going to die.
I get slices of images. Pieces of feelings. And one of both stick out at me like a knife. Blood and Pain. Then, more feelings slowly seep into my head. Hurt, shock, fury, anger...anger.
Death.
I fall to my knees. Anyanka, the vengeance demon, is now on the Magick Box floor with tears streaming down her face. I've felt the need for vengeance so many times before, but this is different. This is pure concentrated anger. And something else.
I try to stand up, but fall right back down. More images flash behind my eyes. The red of the blood. The red of her eyes. The red of her hair.
Oh, God.
Willow.
Tara...
This can't be happening.
It's not supposed to happen like this. Not with a gun. Not like Joyce. Not with human means.
More tears stream down my face, but I know it's not from the blinding pain that Willow's generating. He killed her. Tara. Willow knows it was Warren and she wants blood.
I feel her getting closer to me. I can hardly see, but somehow I manage to get up. All the hate and rage runs through me. The need for blood. Magick. I feel what she feels.
I wipe my eyes absently, knowing that I have to be here, ready when she comes. I can't let her get what she needs, no matter how much I want to. I can't let Willow destroy herself, and I sense that she doesn't want my assistance in vengeance. Then, it would be different. I could kill Warren for her. It wouldn't matter, because I was destroyed long ago.
Another wave of emotion runs through me, and I grasp the counter for support. I know she's coming.
She's close.
The door flies open and she walks in. The lights are exploding around me from the magick radiating from her.
This is bad.
I waste no time.
"Willow."
She knows what I'm going to say, and she doesn't let me.
"Where do you keep the black arts books?"
Not.this.way.don't.do.it.this.way.
"Something terrible has happened, I know. But you don't have to do-"
Of course she has to. I'm a hypocrite if I think other wise. My entire life was a lie otherwise. If I think she doesn't have to, then it would mean I wouldn't have had to kill all the men in my past. It would mean I'm a murderer.
"I need power."
Her look is filled with such determined anger; it seems to look so familiar on me, yet it's new on her. It's horrible on her.
So that's what it means. I'm a murderer. And she doesn't have to be.
I move out from behind the counter. "Not with those books. I can't let you. Willow--"
Willow puts up a hand. Magick shoot into me and suddenly I can't move. I can't help.
I see the books fly off the shelf and land on the table. I mentally scream at her to stop. To wait. To let me help...To let me kill him. I scream for her not to let him destroy her. I want her to let him destroy me. I deserve it, I chose my path, and all I can do is try to stop Willow from choosing hers.
I see her draining the pages.
No. Don't do it. I know she can hear me. I pray she can hear me.
She can hear me, but she's not listening.
The pain inside me intensified as the magick inside her does the same. I look at her. I'm unable to look anywhere else. Her hair turns black, and I believe that after eleven hundred and twenty-three years, I've never seen anything as frightening. I feel a tear fall on my frozen features.
Oh, god.
We lost Willow...
AUTHOR: Spwaddict
E-MAIL: brackish60518@yahoo.com
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Anya watches as they lose Willow. Anya's POV in "Villains".
SPOILERS: "Villains" ....obviously.
DISCLAIMER: Let's break this down for you. Me no Joss. You no Joss. I write for fun. You read for fun. Got that?
NOTES: Vengeance demons and pissed off witches. There is no wrong here.
FEEDBACK: Like a newly human ex-vengeance demon needs literal interpretations....that means, yes please.
~ ~ It feels like I'm being shot.
The pain is sudden but blinding. It rips through me, tearing at my insides, burning my skin. I feel like I'm going to die.
I get slices of images. Pieces of feelings. And one of both stick out at me like a knife. Blood and Pain. Then, more feelings slowly seep into my head. Hurt, shock, fury, anger...anger.
Death.
I fall to my knees. Anyanka, the vengeance demon, is now on the Magick Box floor with tears streaming down her face. I've felt the need for vengeance so many times before, but this is different. This is pure concentrated anger. And something else.
I try to stand up, but fall right back down. More images flash behind my eyes. The red of the blood. The red of her eyes. The red of her hair.
Oh, God.
Willow.
Tara...
This can't be happening.
It's not supposed to happen like this. Not with a gun. Not like Joyce. Not with human means.
More tears stream down my face, but I know it's not from the blinding pain that Willow's generating. He killed her. Tara. Willow knows it was Warren and she wants blood.
I feel her getting closer to me. I can hardly see, but somehow I manage to get up. All the hate and rage runs through me. The need for blood. Magick. I feel what she feels.
I wipe my eyes absently, knowing that I have to be here, ready when she comes. I can't let her get what she needs, no matter how much I want to. I can't let Willow destroy herself, and I sense that she doesn't want my assistance in vengeance. Then, it would be different. I could kill Warren for her. It wouldn't matter, because I was destroyed long ago.
Another wave of emotion runs through me, and I grasp the counter for support. I know she's coming.
She's close.
The door flies open and she walks in. The lights are exploding around me from the magick radiating from her.
This is bad.
I waste no time.
"Willow."
She knows what I'm going to say, and she doesn't let me.
"Where do you keep the black arts books?"
Not.this.way.don't.do.it.this.way.
"Something terrible has happened, I know. But you don't have to do-"
Of course she has to. I'm a hypocrite if I think other wise. My entire life was a lie otherwise. If I think she doesn't have to, then it would mean I wouldn't have had to kill all the men in my past. It would mean I'm a murderer.
"I need power."
Her look is filled with such determined anger; it seems to look so familiar on me, yet it's new on her. It's horrible on her.
So that's what it means. I'm a murderer. And she doesn't have to be.
I move out from behind the counter. "Not with those books. I can't let you. Willow--"
Willow puts up a hand. Magick shoot into me and suddenly I can't move. I can't help.
I see the books fly off the shelf and land on the table. I mentally scream at her to stop. To wait. To let me help...To let me kill him. I scream for her not to let him destroy her. I want her to let him destroy me. I deserve it, I chose my path, and all I can do is try to stop Willow from choosing hers.
I see her draining the pages.
No. Don't do it. I know she can hear me. I pray she can hear me.
She can hear me, but she's not listening.
The pain inside me intensified as the magick inside her does the same. I look at her. I'm unable to look anywhere else. Her hair turns black, and I believe that after eleven hundred and twenty-three years, I've never seen anything as frightening. I feel a tear fall on my frozen features.
Oh, god.
We lost Willow...