Good evening, All,
Sorry about all the confusion with chapter 31 and ff.net. Apparently, the web addresses in the intro were really screwing up the upload. So, come over to Always_Everyday at yahoogroups.com and we'll tell you how to get to the fan listing and other nummy bits!
So, here's the next chapter. Sorry it's coming out a bit off schedule, but I went to the ball game last night. No excuse, I know, but hey, the Spike!Bot enjoyed it. I fed him beer and listened to him scold me for watching the men in tight pants. He proved to me that men in tight pants have nothing on Yummy Vampires in well fitting Levis.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter. The next one should be out over the weekend. Please let me know if you like it! Feedback is my world.
*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue
"As sick as it sounds, in my little head, there's a little Sunnydale, and a widdle Spike and a widdle Buffy and Spike wubs Buffy." James Marsters 14 July 2002
Title: Chasing Tinkerbelle (Chapter Thirty-two of The One)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG -13
Pairing: Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.
Feedback: Yes, please
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday at yahoogroups.com . Also, please visit the wonderful fan listing that Rachel put together. Sign up today and link to your website (or just sign up to say hi!).
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)
Summary: Xander and Oz try to get to Anya and the kids, but something stops them dead. Spike leaves in search of his family. Buffy comes across something that distracts her, but not enough to keep her away from trying to hunt her children. The Pawn makes it to the hiding place and gives Anya an ultimatum.
~~~~~
Chasing Tinkerbelle
The pair had been silent for a while, all joking set aside as the reality of the task had hit home. They were following a Tinkerbelle trail, yes, but following it to what was certainly going to be a messy situation. A big bad that wasn't so big, or so bad, and one they couldn't kill unless it was absolutely necessary. A big bad that was after two kids that they, even in their own personal dogmas, had adopted in their hearts as their own. Oz was just learning this, but Xander knew it in his bones. One of theirs was one of theirs. Spike would lay his life, or unlife, on the line for River in the blink of an eye. Xander was willing to do the same for Emma and Will. Not just for Buffy either.
Not just to save the World.
Blood was blood. Flesh was flesh. Friends were friends. And even the Vampire was his friend now. Not that he'd ever admit it.
They rounded a corner on the Cliffside road, going way too fast for conditions. Xander knew the course. Had driven to the water millions of times. But this time was different. This time was. everything. The road kept coming in tight turns as he sped and steered and listened to the tires squeal against the pavement. Oz didn't say a word. Van could take it. They had to get there. Yesterday.
Around another corner and there it was. Standing in front of them. A little girl glowing almost translucent in the light. Emma? Xander had the chance to think before he hit his brakes hard, his body bracing into the back of the seat. Oz pushed his hands against the dash, yelping involuntarily.
The car wasn't going to stop.
Emma.
Xander had a choice. Sheer drop to the right. Hard rock to the left.
The choice was made for him as his tire went off the right side of the road and the van upended.
The girl was gone.
So was everything else.
~~~~~~
Knew the road was windy. SUV wasn't going to make it fast enough. Did it even have gas anymore?
Spike pulled the motorcycle from its place tucked against the wall of the garage and picked it up, carrying it over boxes of toys and packaged baby stuff that was going to go to the next one in line. Whoever's that might be. He didn't have time to think about the dichotomy of his existence. His leather jacket and his motorcycle in stark contrast to boxes of pink and blue onsies with his pretty script on the side stating "Baby items".
All that mattered was her. Was them.
The motorcycle was gassed. Mercy of mercies it started. Even better that it purred like a kitten as he tore from the driveway and headed out of Revello faster than any emergency vehicle in the existence of Sunnydale. That's what they were, really. All of them. Emergency personnel of a different kind.
The motorcycle took off after the trail, Spike's face to the wind, his mind racing and his heart pounding out a staccato beat against his chest. Had to get there. Had to save them. Had to now.
~~~~
Anya was in the bathroom, Will sitting on the counter and Emma standing in front of the sink. She helped to brush Will's teeth as Emma went through a complicated nightly ritual. Must have learned that one from her mother. Couldn't imagine Spike preening quite so much.
She thought again.
Okay, they both do have really good skin.
Will was very quiet, but Emma had relaxed since they arrived, unpacking her toys and playing with the dog on the beach outside. Not that the little boy had been upset. He smiled and ate his supper, but he looked. pensive. Like he was waiting for something. It was a look they all had perfected. Waiting for the Apocalypse. The rest of them had just gotten better at hiding it.
And Emma. well, she was a trusting sort. Worry didn't seem to enter in her vocabulary. Even knowing what she already knew and seeing what she'd already seen, she was the picture of calm optimism. Thoughtful hope. Peace.
Anya started, hearing the door blow open. The back door had been slamming back and forth since they got there, the winter winds blowing off the water knocking the old, thin door around like a dead leaf. The last time, she thought she'd locked it. But here it was, blowing open again.
"Emma, do you think you can help Will finish brushing his teeth, and then go and wait for me in the big bedroom? We can watch movies until you fall asleep?" Anya asked, brushing golden strands from the little girl's smiling face.
"Sure, Aunt Anya," Emma answered, moving to Will. "Want us to stay hide- y?"
Anya had to smile. Most of the time, Emma had an uncanny ability to sound mature and even had adopted a softened version of her father's rich accent. But that sentence was straight out of her mum's mouth.
"Hide-y's good. Think it's just the wind, but you never know," Anya answered, ruffling Will's hair.
Emma shook her head. "Nope. I'll take Will into the big room. Can we sleep with you tonight?"
"Sure," Anya answered smiling. "We'll all pile in. That big, oafy, fur ridden thing too."
Emma smiled. "Pony likes you. He told me."
"Well, I guess that's good. Just tell him to keep his fleas off of the bed," Anya answered. "Now go get all hide-y."
Emma smiled as Anya walked out of the room.
~~~~~
Buffy could smell blood. It mixed in her nose with the scent of the magic of the trail and the smell of the children she was hunting. Strong blood. Fresh blood.
It made her stomach howl.
Still, she had to get to the children. Something told her demon that the only way it could keep this body, this firm, strong, athletic shell, was to dispose of what the girl loved. Make is so she wouldn't want to go back. Wouldn't want to return to herself in a world where her own mouth had stolen the life of her family.
The Vampire wasn't going to like that much. Sod off. He'd had a hundred plus years to get it right and still that damned poet got in the way. Not going to let it happen this time. Destroy it all now so the girl has nothing to come back for. Nothing to fight.
Buffy stopped at the side of the road, her legs burning from the ten miles she had run in short order. The smell of blood was overwhelming. Her yellow eyes scanned the cliff and saw it. Caught about forty feet down the drop off on the side of the road was a van, upended and being held precariously by a tree. There was blood in the van. Fresh, warm, blood. Lots of blood. She could hear the heartbeats and the slow steady drip of red red life.
Well, the kiddies could wait until after supper.
~~~~~
Anya walked to the door, sticking her head outside and looking around. "Hello?" She called out into the chill, ocean air. "Anyone here?"
There was no answer to her call.
She shrugged, stepping back into the doorway and pulling the door shut tight behind her, locking it and sticking a chair in front of it. The cold air would cost her valuable heating dollars, she reasoned, not wanting to admit that she was afraid. At least not out loud.
A noise behind her made her jump. She spun, facing the sound and the dog rolled over on the couch. She sighed. "Big, noisy, sleepy thing," she sighed, getting control of her heart again.
Little did she know that the dog wasn't asleep.
Anya took a step back down the corridor towards the kitchen, turning on the kettle. As it warmed, she busied herself filling a sippie cup with juice for Will and a glass of caffeine free soda for Emma. She knew the kids wouldn't fall asleep soon. She was in for a long night of Spongebob and Wiggles.
The demon barely noticed the sound of shuffling feet. Just sounded like the wind. Until, of course, the hairs on the back of her neck spun and a voice sounded behind her.
"Anya?"
~~~~~
Buffy was halfway down the cliff to the van when she heard it. A low whimper followed by the sounds of struggle in the vehicle. Dammit, she thought. Had time for drive through, but not for struggling with injured victims. Not to mention, she could smell the power on the one. Wolf. No time to take her chances against a wolf so close to the full moon.
Instead, she decided that she'd have plenty when she got to the kids. Maybe not the biggest meals on the planet, but the satisfaction of knowing that she'd taken away so much of what Buffy loved, and done possibly the only thing that the Vampire couldn't forgive her for. now that would be more satisfying than a snack along the way.
Forcing herself away from the intoxicating scent of blood, Buffy took back off after the scent of her kids, keeping the glittering trail in her sight always.
~~~~~
Anya stood before the woman, eyes wide open. Even though she had known, been somehow prepared, seeing her standing in front of her, looking as normal as she had the last time she had seen her, was unnerving. It was Joyce. Hot chocolate Joyce. Mother of the Chosen One. Made them dinner and didn't ask too many questions, Joyce.
A sinking feeling hit Anya as she remembered the exact moment that Xander had received the call. That Joyce had died. She was drinking fruit punch. Xander dropped the phone, tears streaming down his full cheeks. Her first brush with human mortality and it hurt. Stung as if it had been one of her own. It was one of her own. They all belonged to each other.
"Joyce?" Anya said, her voice wavering.
The Pawn smiled, her dirty white gown still looking beautiful on her form. She was still so beautiful. So gentle.
But it wasn't her, Anya reminded herself. Or it was. But it was a her who didn't know. Didn't understand. Wanted, was being told, to hurt the kids. Kids that Anya had been sworn to protect. Not this. Not this.
The demon edged her way towards the exit to the kitchen.
Joyce smiled. "It's been a while. How has life treated you?"
The voice was sweet and cheery. It was right. But there was emptiness to it. Foreignness, like she was there, but she was buried so far beneath the surface that what came through was an echo of who she had been.
Anya nodded. "Good. Good. "
"You're a mother," Joyce said, nodding at the demon's still tight form.
"Yes," Anya answered. "A little boy."
"Rupert's," Joyce commented. "Have to say I didn't see that one coming."
"Most didn't," Anya confessed, smiling.
"You're a demon again," Joyce continued, her head tilting to the side. Anya just nodded her reply. "Does it hurt?"
"Does what hurt?" Anya asked, confused. She scooted closer to the hall exit.
"Killing," the Pawn asked, the same sweet smile on her face.
That got Anya's hackles up. This was not Joyce. Not really. Or at least not in control. "Yes," Anya answered honestly, still edging towards the door.
Joyce sighed. "Well, I wish I could catch up, but, I've got work to do." She slapped her hands to the sides and shrugged. "I know the answer already, but since you're a demon, I figure it's only polite for me to just ask it once. Then we will go from there."
"Ask what?" Anya asked, now at the exit, trying to work her way into the hall. Wanted to get to the kids. Wanted to know they were all right. At least block the way. Or die trying.
Joyce sighed again. "I'm here for Emma. My . boss. knows. you know that."
Anya nodded solemnly.
"So, we could make this easier if you'd just let me take her. I promise to leave you and the little boy alone. And as soon as I leave the dimension, they told me everything would be all right with." Her voice wavered and Anya could see tears come to her eyes. There was something of the real Joyce in there.
That meant there was hope.
Stall her.
"Buffy?" Anya asked, standing in the hall, hands on her hips, trying to make herself look somehow imposing.
Joyce nodded in return.
"She's pretty messed up. She almost killed Spike last night. How could you let that happen?" Anya asked. Interrogation usually worked to either bring on the guilt or the anger. But it would keep the conversation alive.
Something flared in the Pawn's eyes and that little piece of Joyce retreated. Anger it was. "Are you going to give me the Peacemaker or are you going to endanger the other child and the One?"
"I've been asked to protect them. I will." Her voice was simple. Firm.
The Pawn sighed. "All right then. But you aren't going to like what they want me to do."
Anya quirked a brow. She had expected an attack. A fight. Not a calm statement of fact.
"What do you mean?"
"I have been wronged," Joyce began. "The Powers stole my baby. They made her a warrior. Took her away from me. Took away my family." The voice, the eyes, flickered with their true owner's hurt for just one moment, and then flashed away. "I wish that Buffy cannot stop me from taking her child away. That no one can."
A shocked look crossed Anya's face. This she definitely hadn't expected. Could dead people make Vengeance wishes? This had to be a new one for her. Well, dead dead people. The undead had an active Vengeance imagination. "You're asking for me to grant you a wish?"
"You are bound," Joyce answered, returning to the automaton stare. "You must."
Anya stared at her for a moment. "You know. I can't. I gave them my word."
The Pawn shook her head, smiling. "It's your duty, Anya. You cannot turn away someone with a Vengeance claim."
The demon swallowed, her heart now racing. Emma. Buffy. Will. Spike. Rupert. Randy. Pictures of them all spinning through her mind. They were all hers and all theirs and all part of her heart. She couldn't just hand Emma over. But there were penalties for denying a wish made by a valid claimant. Big penalties. Huge penalties.
D'Hoffryn had been good to her.
Anya closed her eyes and swallowed, steeling all of her strength. She would protect them or die trying. Anything less would disappoint them. Would disappoint her. She'd expect the same from Buffy. From Spike.
"I cannot grant your wish."
To be contd.
Sorry about all the confusion with chapter 31 and ff.net. Apparently, the web addresses in the intro were really screwing up the upload. So, come over to Always_Everyday at yahoogroups.com and we'll tell you how to get to the fan listing and other nummy bits!
So, here's the next chapter. Sorry it's coming out a bit off schedule, but I went to the ball game last night. No excuse, I know, but hey, the Spike!Bot enjoyed it. I fed him beer and listened to him scold me for watching the men in tight pants. He proved to me that men in tight pants have nothing on Yummy Vampires in well fitting Levis.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter. The next one should be out over the weekend. Please let me know if you like it! Feedback is my world.
*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue
"As sick as it sounds, in my little head, there's a little Sunnydale, and a widdle Spike and a widdle Buffy and Spike wubs Buffy." James Marsters 14 July 2002
Title: Chasing Tinkerbelle (Chapter Thirty-two of The One)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG -13
Pairing: Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.
Feedback: Yes, please
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday at yahoogroups.com . Also, please visit the wonderful fan listing that Rachel put together. Sign up today and link to your website (or just sign up to say hi!).
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)
Summary: Xander and Oz try to get to Anya and the kids, but something stops them dead. Spike leaves in search of his family. Buffy comes across something that distracts her, but not enough to keep her away from trying to hunt her children. The Pawn makes it to the hiding place and gives Anya an ultimatum.
~~~~~
Chasing Tinkerbelle
The pair had been silent for a while, all joking set aside as the reality of the task had hit home. They were following a Tinkerbelle trail, yes, but following it to what was certainly going to be a messy situation. A big bad that wasn't so big, or so bad, and one they couldn't kill unless it was absolutely necessary. A big bad that was after two kids that they, even in their own personal dogmas, had adopted in their hearts as their own. Oz was just learning this, but Xander knew it in his bones. One of theirs was one of theirs. Spike would lay his life, or unlife, on the line for River in the blink of an eye. Xander was willing to do the same for Emma and Will. Not just for Buffy either.
Not just to save the World.
Blood was blood. Flesh was flesh. Friends were friends. And even the Vampire was his friend now. Not that he'd ever admit it.
They rounded a corner on the Cliffside road, going way too fast for conditions. Xander knew the course. Had driven to the water millions of times. But this time was different. This time was. everything. The road kept coming in tight turns as he sped and steered and listened to the tires squeal against the pavement. Oz didn't say a word. Van could take it. They had to get there. Yesterday.
Around another corner and there it was. Standing in front of them. A little girl glowing almost translucent in the light. Emma? Xander had the chance to think before he hit his brakes hard, his body bracing into the back of the seat. Oz pushed his hands against the dash, yelping involuntarily.
The car wasn't going to stop.
Emma.
Xander had a choice. Sheer drop to the right. Hard rock to the left.
The choice was made for him as his tire went off the right side of the road and the van upended.
The girl was gone.
So was everything else.
~~~~~~
Knew the road was windy. SUV wasn't going to make it fast enough. Did it even have gas anymore?
Spike pulled the motorcycle from its place tucked against the wall of the garage and picked it up, carrying it over boxes of toys and packaged baby stuff that was going to go to the next one in line. Whoever's that might be. He didn't have time to think about the dichotomy of his existence. His leather jacket and his motorcycle in stark contrast to boxes of pink and blue onsies with his pretty script on the side stating "Baby items".
All that mattered was her. Was them.
The motorcycle was gassed. Mercy of mercies it started. Even better that it purred like a kitten as he tore from the driveway and headed out of Revello faster than any emergency vehicle in the existence of Sunnydale. That's what they were, really. All of them. Emergency personnel of a different kind.
The motorcycle took off after the trail, Spike's face to the wind, his mind racing and his heart pounding out a staccato beat against his chest. Had to get there. Had to save them. Had to now.
~~~~
Anya was in the bathroom, Will sitting on the counter and Emma standing in front of the sink. She helped to brush Will's teeth as Emma went through a complicated nightly ritual. Must have learned that one from her mother. Couldn't imagine Spike preening quite so much.
She thought again.
Okay, they both do have really good skin.
Will was very quiet, but Emma had relaxed since they arrived, unpacking her toys and playing with the dog on the beach outside. Not that the little boy had been upset. He smiled and ate his supper, but he looked. pensive. Like he was waiting for something. It was a look they all had perfected. Waiting for the Apocalypse. The rest of them had just gotten better at hiding it.
And Emma. well, she was a trusting sort. Worry didn't seem to enter in her vocabulary. Even knowing what she already knew and seeing what she'd already seen, she was the picture of calm optimism. Thoughtful hope. Peace.
Anya started, hearing the door blow open. The back door had been slamming back and forth since they got there, the winter winds blowing off the water knocking the old, thin door around like a dead leaf. The last time, she thought she'd locked it. But here it was, blowing open again.
"Emma, do you think you can help Will finish brushing his teeth, and then go and wait for me in the big bedroom? We can watch movies until you fall asleep?" Anya asked, brushing golden strands from the little girl's smiling face.
"Sure, Aunt Anya," Emma answered, moving to Will. "Want us to stay hide- y?"
Anya had to smile. Most of the time, Emma had an uncanny ability to sound mature and even had adopted a softened version of her father's rich accent. But that sentence was straight out of her mum's mouth.
"Hide-y's good. Think it's just the wind, but you never know," Anya answered, ruffling Will's hair.
Emma shook her head. "Nope. I'll take Will into the big room. Can we sleep with you tonight?"
"Sure," Anya answered smiling. "We'll all pile in. That big, oafy, fur ridden thing too."
Emma smiled. "Pony likes you. He told me."
"Well, I guess that's good. Just tell him to keep his fleas off of the bed," Anya answered. "Now go get all hide-y."
Emma smiled as Anya walked out of the room.
~~~~~
Buffy could smell blood. It mixed in her nose with the scent of the magic of the trail and the smell of the children she was hunting. Strong blood. Fresh blood.
It made her stomach howl.
Still, she had to get to the children. Something told her demon that the only way it could keep this body, this firm, strong, athletic shell, was to dispose of what the girl loved. Make is so she wouldn't want to go back. Wouldn't want to return to herself in a world where her own mouth had stolen the life of her family.
The Vampire wasn't going to like that much. Sod off. He'd had a hundred plus years to get it right and still that damned poet got in the way. Not going to let it happen this time. Destroy it all now so the girl has nothing to come back for. Nothing to fight.
Buffy stopped at the side of the road, her legs burning from the ten miles she had run in short order. The smell of blood was overwhelming. Her yellow eyes scanned the cliff and saw it. Caught about forty feet down the drop off on the side of the road was a van, upended and being held precariously by a tree. There was blood in the van. Fresh, warm, blood. Lots of blood. She could hear the heartbeats and the slow steady drip of red red life.
Well, the kiddies could wait until after supper.
~~~~~
Anya walked to the door, sticking her head outside and looking around. "Hello?" She called out into the chill, ocean air. "Anyone here?"
There was no answer to her call.
She shrugged, stepping back into the doorway and pulling the door shut tight behind her, locking it and sticking a chair in front of it. The cold air would cost her valuable heating dollars, she reasoned, not wanting to admit that she was afraid. At least not out loud.
A noise behind her made her jump. She spun, facing the sound and the dog rolled over on the couch. She sighed. "Big, noisy, sleepy thing," she sighed, getting control of her heart again.
Little did she know that the dog wasn't asleep.
Anya took a step back down the corridor towards the kitchen, turning on the kettle. As it warmed, she busied herself filling a sippie cup with juice for Will and a glass of caffeine free soda for Emma. She knew the kids wouldn't fall asleep soon. She was in for a long night of Spongebob and Wiggles.
The demon barely noticed the sound of shuffling feet. Just sounded like the wind. Until, of course, the hairs on the back of her neck spun and a voice sounded behind her.
"Anya?"
~~~~~
Buffy was halfway down the cliff to the van when she heard it. A low whimper followed by the sounds of struggle in the vehicle. Dammit, she thought. Had time for drive through, but not for struggling with injured victims. Not to mention, she could smell the power on the one. Wolf. No time to take her chances against a wolf so close to the full moon.
Instead, she decided that she'd have plenty when she got to the kids. Maybe not the biggest meals on the planet, but the satisfaction of knowing that she'd taken away so much of what Buffy loved, and done possibly the only thing that the Vampire couldn't forgive her for. now that would be more satisfying than a snack along the way.
Forcing herself away from the intoxicating scent of blood, Buffy took back off after the scent of her kids, keeping the glittering trail in her sight always.
~~~~~
Anya stood before the woman, eyes wide open. Even though she had known, been somehow prepared, seeing her standing in front of her, looking as normal as she had the last time she had seen her, was unnerving. It was Joyce. Hot chocolate Joyce. Mother of the Chosen One. Made them dinner and didn't ask too many questions, Joyce.
A sinking feeling hit Anya as she remembered the exact moment that Xander had received the call. That Joyce had died. She was drinking fruit punch. Xander dropped the phone, tears streaming down his full cheeks. Her first brush with human mortality and it hurt. Stung as if it had been one of her own. It was one of her own. They all belonged to each other.
"Joyce?" Anya said, her voice wavering.
The Pawn smiled, her dirty white gown still looking beautiful on her form. She was still so beautiful. So gentle.
But it wasn't her, Anya reminded herself. Or it was. But it was a her who didn't know. Didn't understand. Wanted, was being told, to hurt the kids. Kids that Anya had been sworn to protect. Not this. Not this.
The demon edged her way towards the exit to the kitchen.
Joyce smiled. "It's been a while. How has life treated you?"
The voice was sweet and cheery. It was right. But there was emptiness to it. Foreignness, like she was there, but she was buried so far beneath the surface that what came through was an echo of who she had been.
Anya nodded. "Good. Good. "
"You're a mother," Joyce said, nodding at the demon's still tight form.
"Yes," Anya answered. "A little boy."
"Rupert's," Joyce commented. "Have to say I didn't see that one coming."
"Most didn't," Anya confessed, smiling.
"You're a demon again," Joyce continued, her head tilting to the side. Anya just nodded her reply. "Does it hurt?"
"Does what hurt?" Anya asked, confused. She scooted closer to the hall exit.
"Killing," the Pawn asked, the same sweet smile on her face.
That got Anya's hackles up. This was not Joyce. Not really. Or at least not in control. "Yes," Anya answered honestly, still edging towards the door.
Joyce sighed. "Well, I wish I could catch up, but, I've got work to do." She slapped her hands to the sides and shrugged. "I know the answer already, but since you're a demon, I figure it's only polite for me to just ask it once. Then we will go from there."
"Ask what?" Anya asked, now at the exit, trying to work her way into the hall. Wanted to get to the kids. Wanted to know they were all right. At least block the way. Or die trying.
Joyce sighed again. "I'm here for Emma. My . boss. knows. you know that."
Anya nodded solemnly.
"So, we could make this easier if you'd just let me take her. I promise to leave you and the little boy alone. And as soon as I leave the dimension, they told me everything would be all right with." Her voice wavered and Anya could see tears come to her eyes. There was something of the real Joyce in there.
That meant there was hope.
Stall her.
"Buffy?" Anya asked, standing in the hall, hands on her hips, trying to make herself look somehow imposing.
Joyce nodded in return.
"She's pretty messed up. She almost killed Spike last night. How could you let that happen?" Anya asked. Interrogation usually worked to either bring on the guilt or the anger. But it would keep the conversation alive.
Something flared in the Pawn's eyes and that little piece of Joyce retreated. Anger it was. "Are you going to give me the Peacemaker or are you going to endanger the other child and the One?"
"I've been asked to protect them. I will." Her voice was simple. Firm.
The Pawn sighed. "All right then. But you aren't going to like what they want me to do."
Anya quirked a brow. She had expected an attack. A fight. Not a calm statement of fact.
"What do you mean?"
"I have been wronged," Joyce began. "The Powers stole my baby. They made her a warrior. Took her away from me. Took away my family." The voice, the eyes, flickered with their true owner's hurt for just one moment, and then flashed away. "I wish that Buffy cannot stop me from taking her child away. That no one can."
A shocked look crossed Anya's face. This she definitely hadn't expected. Could dead people make Vengeance wishes? This had to be a new one for her. Well, dead dead people. The undead had an active Vengeance imagination. "You're asking for me to grant you a wish?"
"You are bound," Joyce answered, returning to the automaton stare. "You must."
Anya stared at her for a moment. "You know. I can't. I gave them my word."
The Pawn shook her head, smiling. "It's your duty, Anya. You cannot turn away someone with a Vengeance claim."
The demon swallowed, her heart now racing. Emma. Buffy. Will. Spike. Rupert. Randy. Pictures of them all spinning through her mind. They were all hers and all theirs and all part of her heart. She couldn't just hand Emma over. But there were penalties for denying a wish made by a valid claimant. Big penalties. Huge penalties.
D'Hoffryn had been good to her.
Anya closed her eyes and swallowed, steeling all of her strength. She would protect them or die trying. Anything less would disappoint them. Would disappoint her. She'd expect the same from Buffy. From Spike.
"I cannot grant your wish."
To be contd.