Early the next morning, four women set out to speak with Melly the Siren.
Mystique was driving, with Anya in the front to give directions; Buffy and
Willow sat in the back.
"You sure you don't know Raven? I pride myself in remembering my girls, and you are the spitting image of her. Except for the blue skin, scales, and hair. But otherwise, you could be her twin!"
Mystique wished that the annoyingly high pitched voice and the equally annoying woman would shut up. She disliked being made to come to Sunnydale at all; having to physically aid them went above and beyond the call of duty for the Brotherhood.
"Raven's wish was quite something," Anya began to reminisce for the fiftieth time in the past two hours of driving. "It was so rare that a wish was granted so precisely according to the wisher's instructions - normally I had to do some creative interpreting. D'Hoffryn was always praising my gift for that. But Raven - now that was a scorned woman who knew her vengeance! Perfectly detailed description. Granting that one almost got me the Best Vengeance award over at the Academy of Wanton Violence, but I got disqualified because it was so obviously the intent of the wisher." Anya grew huffy at the memory. "Only got an honorable mention. Those hoity toity academicians kept saying it had to be all me. Knew I never liked them."
Mystique smirked a little, but otherwise did not respond.
Buffy and Willow rolled their eyes at Anya's continued recital of "the good old days, when men feared my wrath". The closer they came to Melly's place, the more Anya seemed to mourn for her vengeance demon status.
"But not that I mind being human. I very much love my Xander. Sometimes, we even -"
"Are we there yet?" Willow burst in quickly. Anya was about to start one of her TMI stories, and those always led to scary images. She never, ever wanted to hear about the use for very long paintbrushes and chocolate sauce again. She had had nightmares for a week.
"No," Anya twisted around in her seat. "We will arrive at Melly's in approximately half an hour. As I was saying, sometimes Xander and I like to - "
It was Buffy's turn to break in now. "Is Melly going to talk to us? I really don't want to come all the way out here just to be told to get lost."
"Melly and I go way back." Anya got that nostalgic look in her eyes again. "We met when she was working the French coast in the fourteenth century. This girl's sailor lover had been cheating on her and she wished for his death, preferably a painful one. Melly was already luring him in - we had such an argument over who was going to kill him, but in the end I decided being crushed on the rocks followed by drowning would be suitably painful. After that, I sent a lot of unfaithful men her way."
"Does she know you're not big with the vengeance now?" Willow asked.
"Melly? She was the only one who sent a sympathy card when news of my newly mortal status came out." Anya turned to Mystique, "Turn left here. And for the record, I still retain the necessary knowledge to perform vengeance if so motivated. I have not forgotten my heritage."
They went down a gravel road; leading up to a small cottage perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean. An old brown minivan was parked in the front. The garden was neat and well taken care of, with pink flamingos and gnomes scattered throughout. Willow found it decidedly un-siren like.
Mystique parked the car next to the minivan. It was time to get this pointless errand over with. Soon as they returned to Sunnydale with the siren hair she was going to have a long talk with Magneto about the foolishness of his involvement.
Anya rang the bell, waited a moment, and rang again. Buffy wished she had been allowed to carry a crossbow with her, making nice with demons always made her edgy. Willow hoped they could do this and dump Mystique, preferably off the cliff. Mystique stood of to the side and tried not to openly sulk.
The door opened.
"Anyanka! It's been ages!"
Melly was certainly not what Willow had expected. The siren was a little short, a little round, with salt and pepper hair done up in a messy bun. Her skin was freckled and a little age wrinkled; her eyes were definitely a non enticing shade of gray. Her flowered muumuu was as non- sexy as it could get. Her voice was a little harsh and gravelly, and not in a Lauren Bacall kind of way. Did they have the right address?
"Haven't seen you since Borkamir's bicentennial. Of course, that was before your accident. How have you been holding up, Yanka-dear?"
"I find the fragility of my mortal existence off putting, yet not without its rewards. My boyfriend is a very generous lover and we share many happy orgasms."
"I'm so proud of you for seeing the positive side. I honestly don't know if I could handle being human after all these years."
"You're coming up on your 2473rd, aren't you?"
"Shh! I tell all the boys I'm not a day over two thousand."
Anya nodded. She didn't have the heart to tell her friend that she looked closer to the two and a half millenium mark than not.
"And who are your friends? You'll all have to come in for some coffee. I hope you'll like Maxwell House - been buying that brand ever since they started selling. It's not like they used to make it, but it never is."
"This is Buffy, Willow and Mystique," Anya introduced proudly. Buffy and Willow were still a little too dumbfounded to do more than wave; Mystique gave her customary smirk.
"How nice to meet some people from Anya's new life. You know, I was so worried that you wouldn't be able to adjust. You always hear stories about the newly human, with the depression and the turning to dust and all that rot. Why, Liesl, you remember Liesl, she dated Dracula in the 1500s, well she became human just three centuries ago and was such a mess. Couldn't handle the shock and committed suicide. Or got a last visit from an ex-lover, no one ever found out for sure. Never mind my ramblings, please, come in, come in!"
They followed the siren into the cottage. It was decorated in a charming, sea themed fashion. There was an entire wall devoted to figurines of lighthouses, with a poster over it reading "Be Gracious in Defeat". Another wall held a bookcase full of texts devoted to the mythology of the sea. Willow recognized some of the books from research sessions; a few others were required reading in the Myths & Legends elective she took last year.
Melly made them sit down. The chairs were comfy and had the right amount of squishiness. Willow sank into hers happily; as much as she loved Giles, furniture selection was not his specialty. The siren bustled about, going over to the adjacent kitchen and preparing a tray, punctuated by remarks like "Does anyone like cream?" and "These danishes are divine, but I need to watch my figure. Feel free to eat as many as you want."
They spent the next fifteen minutes drinking coffee and engaging in chit-chat. Well, everyone but Mystique, who snootily sipped her coffee and refused to touch the danishes. Willow had no such compunction and helped herself to three. They truly were divine.
The gossip was amazingly free of supernatural references. Melly cheerily flitted from celebrities to the condition of the beaches to the state of pop culture ("deplorable") and back to the lives of celebrities ("It's all in the Enquirer"). Finally, Melly set her cup down and faced Buffy.
"Now, Slayer, why are you here?"
Buffy blinked. It was admittedly a long shot that a demon as old as Melly wouldn't be able to spot a Slayer, but she had hoped to go unnoticed, at least until they bought the siren hair.
"You know I'm the Slayer?"
"Dear, I may not be the siren I used to be, but do give me some credit. I've always made it a policy to keep track of these things. Not to mention you have quite the reputation. One of the few of your kind who even remotely comprehends that there is a gray zone - stories about you and your vampires are quite the talk of the town. But that's neither here not there. Why did you have Anyanka bring you here?"
Me and my vampires, plural? Huh? Buffy shook herself quickly from that thought and focused on Melly's question.
"We need a bag woven of siren hair," she stated matter of factly. "Willow can fill you in on what it will be used for exactly. I just know we need it for a spell to use against the Sl'kanith demon."
Melly paled at those words.
Willow noticed and quickly spoke up. "It won't be anything bad, no backlash badness for you. The spell will just stop the Sl'kanith from working so much majorly bad mojo."
Pause.
"So, you can help us, right? We'll pay in valid currency," Anya added helpfully.
Once again, Mystique said nothing, silently watching the proceedings, filing the smallest details for use later.
"Anyanka, why did you go have to make friends with the Slayer," Melly whispered softly. "This only leads to dangerously good deeds." In a louder voice she said, "I'm sorry you came out here for nothing, but I can't sell you anything."
"Why?"
Such a simple question, such a complicated answer. "Because I know what you're dealing with. By Poseidon's trident, I know. You're dealing with more than just the Sl'kanith. Not that such a creature isn't a danger in itself. But to bring forth a Sl'kanith - that requires forces I don't involve myself with. I like me the way it is, with all parts attached."
"Maybe there's a way we can make sure they don't know you gave us the hair?" Willow offered.
"I'm the only siren on the West Coast. There's only one spell you could use against the Sl'kanith. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"We need your help," Buffy said coolly. "The Sl'kanith will be affecting humans any day now. We will cast the suppression spell in three days. We will pay what the asking price is for a bag made of siren hair. We will offer protection until the Sl'kanith and whatever cult or group that summoned it are taken care of."
"And if I refuse your offer?"
"You won't."
Such a brave little Slayer. She was everything the rumors said she was. Well, Melly had yet to see any evidence of that vampire thing. Pity, that was the most interesting part of the story. But to accept her offer/order? There's the question.
Melly was not uninformed, by any means. Even out here in her cottage, she had heard about the emergence of the Sl'kanith, the arrival of the mutants - yes she was fully aware that Sunnydale's quota for the uncanny was at an all time high. Just look at that blue woman. What was the world coming to?
Such a mismatched group. A former vengeance demon - Anyanka had been the best in her day, such a pity that day was ended. A witch with a power promising greatness but not yet tempered by wisdom. A mutant, one whose hatred and hostility was worn like a cloak, radiating displeasure. And lastly, a petite blond woman who was Chosen to protect the world with her life.
Well, it would be interesting, at least.
Melly stood up. "I weave the fabric myself. A piece the size you need will cost approximately $800, payable to an account I will specify. Remember, you are paying not only for the hair, but the weaving. I will follow you to Sunnydale; I do not intend to become a victim at my age. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
Melly went to her storage closet to get the fabric, saying over her shoulder, "Yanka, be a love and put away the dishes." Anya nodded and began to do so.
Buffy gasped when she saw the material. It glowed with an almost hypnotic light, golden in color but with rainbow like fragments creating a kaleidoscopic effect. It was so different from Melly's own graying hair.
"That's yours?!" Willow couldn't help her outburst. She had managed to keep quite about Melly's non-sirenness so far, but this demanded a response.
"Indeed it is," Melly assured with a faint smile. "What, did you think this," she waved at her general appearance, "was my true face? Of all the glamours I can create, this is the most comfortable, but this," pause for a moment of concentration, "this is my working face."
The image Melly displayed was far more akin to what Willow had envisioned a siren to look like. Long, wavy hair with enough bounce to make a hairdresser drool framed a flawless face. Eyes the color of the sea at sunset, pouting lips, delicately arched eyebrows. A generous figure.
"What do you think?" And a voice that managed to sing even as it spoke. Definitely what a siren was supposed to be.
"I think it's a good thing Xander isn't here," Buffy joked, "or Anya would be worried about competition."
"What about my Xander?" Anya demanded, having finished cleaning up.
Mystique quietly noted the siren's shapeshifting ability. Knowledge like that could be useful.
"Your Xander's fine," Melly assured her as she changed back to her frumpier form, "I have no designs on your boyfriend."
Anya appeared mollified. Her Xander was safe.
"Giles will fix up the account thingy for paying you," Buffy told Melly. "Thanks for the stuff. But, I'm not sure where we can put you if you follow us to Sunnydale."
Mystique spoke for the first time. "We would be happy to have a guest where we are staying."
Happy was debatable. But a source for more local information would be advantageous.
Willow wrinkled her nose. She didn't like the idea of Mystique being able to chat it up with Melly. Melly seemed so nice, especially for a demon.
Buffy met her eyes, a similarly distasteful expression on her face. But where else could Melly go, honestly? Her mother's? Giles'? Crawford mansion it would be.
With a new passenger added on, they returned to the car and headed back to Sunnydale. Mystique tried to ignore the other four women as they started to talk some more about some celebrity scandal.
At least their mission had been accomplished.
"You sure you don't know Raven? I pride myself in remembering my girls, and you are the spitting image of her. Except for the blue skin, scales, and hair. But otherwise, you could be her twin!"
Mystique wished that the annoyingly high pitched voice and the equally annoying woman would shut up. She disliked being made to come to Sunnydale at all; having to physically aid them went above and beyond the call of duty for the Brotherhood.
"Raven's wish was quite something," Anya began to reminisce for the fiftieth time in the past two hours of driving. "It was so rare that a wish was granted so precisely according to the wisher's instructions - normally I had to do some creative interpreting. D'Hoffryn was always praising my gift for that. But Raven - now that was a scorned woman who knew her vengeance! Perfectly detailed description. Granting that one almost got me the Best Vengeance award over at the Academy of Wanton Violence, but I got disqualified because it was so obviously the intent of the wisher." Anya grew huffy at the memory. "Only got an honorable mention. Those hoity toity academicians kept saying it had to be all me. Knew I never liked them."
Mystique smirked a little, but otherwise did not respond.
Buffy and Willow rolled their eyes at Anya's continued recital of "the good old days, when men feared my wrath". The closer they came to Melly's place, the more Anya seemed to mourn for her vengeance demon status.
"But not that I mind being human. I very much love my Xander. Sometimes, we even -"
"Are we there yet?" Willow burst in quickly. Anya was about to start one of her TMI stories, and those always led to scary images. She never, ever wanted to hear about the use for very long paintbrushes and chocolate sauce again. She had had nightmares for a week.
"No," Anya twisted around in her seat. "We will arrive at Melly's in approximately half an hour. As I was saying, sometimes Xander and I like to - "
It was Buffy's turn to break in now. "Is Melly going to talk to us? I really don't want to come all the way out here just to be told to get lost."
"Melly and I go way back." Anya got that nostalgic look in her eyes again. "We met when she was working the French coast in the fourteenth century. This girl's sailor lover had been cheating on her and she wished for his death, preferably a painful one. Melly was already luring him in - we had such an argument over who was going to kill him, but in the end I decided being crushed on the rocks followed by drowning would be suitably painful. After that, I sent a lot of unfaithful men her way."
"Does she know you're not big with the vengeance now?" Willow asked.
"Melly? She was the only one who sent a sympathy card when news of my newly mortal status came out." Anya turned to Mystique, "Turn left here. And for the record, I still retain the necessary knowledge to perform vengeance if so motivated. I have not forgotten my heritage."
They went down a gravel road; leading up to a small cottage perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean. An old brown minivan was parked in the front. The garden was neat and well taken care of, with pink flamingos and gnomes scattered throughout. Willow found it decidedly un-siren like.
Mystique parked the car next to the minivan. It was time to get this pointless errand over with. Soon as they returned to Sunnydale with the siren hair she was going to have a long talk with Magneto about the foolishness of his involvement.
Anya rang the bell, waited a moment, and rang again. Buffy wished she had been allowed to carry a crossbow with her, making nice with demons always made her edgy. Willow hoped they could do this and dump Mystique, preferably off the cliff. Mystique stood of to the side and tried not to openly sulk.
The door opened.
"Anyanka! It's been ages!"
Melly was certainly not what Willow had expected. The siren was a little short, a little round, with salt and pepper hair done up in a messy bun. Her skin was freckled and a little age wrinkled; her eyes were definitely a non enticing shade of gray. Her flowered muumuu was as non- sexy as it could get. Her voice was a little harsh and gravelly, and not in a Lauren Bacall kind of way. Did they have the right address?
"Haven't seen you since Borkamir's bicentennial. Of course, that was before your accident. How have you been holding up, Yanka-dear?"
"I find the fragility of my mortal existence off putting, yet not without its rewards. My boyfriend is a very generous lover and we share many happy orgasms."
"I'm so proud of you for seeing the positive side. I honestly don't know if I could handle being human after all these years."
"You're coming up on your 2473rd, aren't you?"
"Shh! I tell all the boys I'm not a day over two thousand."
Anya nodded. She didn't have the heart to tell her friend that she looked closer to the two and a half millenium mark than not.
"And who are your friends? You'll all have to come in for some coffee. I hope you'll like Maxwell House - been buying that brand ever since they started selling. It's not like they used to make it, but it never is."
"This is Buffy, Willow and Mystique," Anya introduced proudly. Buffy and Willow were still a little too dumbfounded to do more than wave; Mystique gave her customary smirk.
"How nice to meet some people from Anya's new life. You know, I was so worried that you wouldn't be able to adjust. You always hear stories about the newly human, with the depression and the turning to dust and all that rot. Why, Liesl, you remember Liesl, she dated Dracula in the 1500s, well she became human just three centuries ago and was such a mess. Couldn't handle the shock and committed suicide. Or got a last visit from an ex-lover, no one ever found out for sure. Never mind my ramblings, please, come in, come in!"
They followed the siren into the cottage. It was decorated in a charming, sea themed fashion. There was an entire wall devoted to figurines of lighthouses, with a poster over it reading "Be Gracious in Defeat". Another wall held a bookcase full of texts devoted to the mythology of the sea. Willow recognized some of the books from research sessions; a few others were required reading in the Myths & Legends elective she took last year.
Melly made them sit down. The chairs were comfy and had the right amount of squishiness. Willow sank into hers happily; as much as she loved Giles, furniture selection was not his specialty. The siren bustled about, going over to the adjacent kitchen and preparing a tray, punctuated by remarks like "Does anyone like cream?" and "These danishes are divine, but I need to watch my figure. Feel free to eat as many as you want."
They spent the next fifteen minutes drinking coffee and engaging in chit-chat. Well, everyone but Mystique, who snootily sipped her coffee and refused to touch the danishes. Willow had no such compunction and helped herself to three. They truly were divine.
The gossip was amazingly free of supernatural references. Melly cheerily flitted from celebrities to the condition of the beaches to the state of pop culture ("deplorable") and back to the lives of celebrities ("It's all in the Enquirer"). Finally, Melly set her cup down and faced Buffy.
"Now, Slayer, why are you here?"
Buffy blinked. It was admittedly a long shot that a demon as old as Melly wouldn't be able to spot a Slayer, but she had hoped to go unnoticed, at least until they bought the siren hair.
"You know I'm the Slayer?"
"Dear, I may not be the siren I used to be, but do give me some credit. I've always made it a policy to keep track of these things. Not to mention you have quite the reputation. One of the few of your kind who even remotely comprehends that there is a gray zone - stories about you and your vampires are quite the talk of the town. But that's neither here not there. Why did you have Anyanka bring you here?"
Me and my vampires, plural? Huh? Buffy shook herself quickly from that thought and focused on Melly's question.
"We need a bag woven of siren hair," she stated matter of factly. "Willow can fill you in on what it will be used for exactly. I just know we need it for a spell to use against the Sl'kanith demon."
Melly paled at those words.
Willow noticed and quickly spoke up. "It won't be anything bad, no backlash badness for you. The spell will just stop the Sl'kanith from working so much majorly bad mojo."
Pause.
"So, you can help us, right? We'll pay in valid currency," Anya added helpfully.
Once again, Mystique said nothing, silently watching the proceedings, filing the smallest details for use later.
"Anyanka, why did you go have to make friends with the Slayer," Melly whispered softly. "This only leads to dangerously good deeds." In a louder voice she said, "I'm sorry you came out here for nothing, but I can't sell you anything."
"Why?"
Such a simple question, such a complicated answer. "Because I know what you're dealing with. By Poseidon's trident, I know. You're dealing with more than just the Sl'kanith. Not that such a creature isn't a danger in itself. But to bring forth a Sl'kanith - that requires forces I don't involve myself with. I like me the way it is, with all parts attached."
"Maybe there's a way we can make sure they don't know you gave us the hair?" Willow offered.
"I'm the only siren on the West Coast. There's only one spell you could use against the Sl'kanith. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"We need your help," Buffy said coolly. "The Sl'kanith will be affecting humans any day now. We will cast the suppression spell in three days. We will pay what the asking price is for a bag made of siren hair. We will offer protection until the Sl'kanith and whatever cult or group that summoned it are taken care of."
"And if I refuse your offer?"
"You won't."
Such a brave little Slayer. She was everything the rumors said she was. Well, Melly had yet to see any evidence of that vampire thing. Pity, that was the most interesting part of the story. But to accept her offer/order? There's the question.
Melly was not uninformed, by any means. Even out here in her cottage, she had heard about the emergence of the Sl'kanith, the arrival of the mutants - yes she was fully aware that Sunnydale's quota for the uncanny was at an all time high. Just look at that blue woman. What was the world coming to?
Such a mismatched group. A former vengeance demon - Anyanka had been the best in her day, such a pity that day was ended. A witch with a power promising greatness but not yet tempered by wisdom. A mutant, one whose hatred and hostility was worn like a cloak, radiating displeasure. And lastly, a petite blond woman who was Chosen to protect the world with her life.
Well, it would be interesting, at least.
Melly stood up. "I weave the fabric myself. A piece the size you need will cost approximately $800, payable to an account I will specify. Remember, you are paying not only for the hair, but the weaving. I will follow you to Sunnydale; I do not intend to become a victim at my age. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
Melly went to her storage closet to get the fabric, saying over her shoulder, "Yanka, be a love and put away the dishes." Anya nodded and began to do so.
Buffy gasped when she saw the material. It glowed with an almost hypnotic light, golden in color but with rainbow like fragments creating a kaleidoscopic effect. It was so different from Melly's own graying hair.
"That's yours?!" Willow couldn't help her outburst. She had managed to keep quite about Melly's non-sirenness so far, but this demanded a response.
"Indeed it is," Melly assured with a faint smile. "What, did you think this," she waved at her general appearance, "was my true face? Of all the glamours I can create, this is the most comfortable, but this," pause for a moment of concentration, "this is my working face."
The image Melly displayed was far more akin to what Willow had envisioned a siren to look like. Long, wavy hair with enough bounce to make a hairdresser drool framed a flawless face. Eyes the color of the sea at sunset, pouting lips, delicately arched eyebrows. A generous figure.
"What do you think?" And a voice that managed to sing even as it spoke. Definitely what a siren was supposed to be.
"I think it's a good thing Xander isn't here," Buffy joked, "or Anya would be worried about competition."
"What about my Xander?" Anya demanded, having finished cleaning up.
Mystique quietly noted the siren's shapeshifting ability. Knowledge like that could be useful.
"Your Xander's fine," Melly assured her as she changed back to her frumpier form, "I have no designs on your boyfriend."
Anya appeared mollified. Her Xander was safe.
"Giles will fix up the account thingy for paying you," Buffy told Melly. "Thanks for the stuff. But, I'm not sure where we can put you if you follow us to Sunnydale."
Mystique spoke for the first time. "We would be happy to have a guest where we are staying."
Happy was debatable. But a source for more local information would be advantageous.
Willow wrinkled her nose. She didn't like the idea of Mystique being able to chat it up with Melly. Melly seemed so nice, especially for a demon.
Buffy met her eyes, a similarly distasteful expression on her face. But where else could Melly go, honestly? Her mother's? Giles'? Crawford mansion it would be.
With a new passenger added on, they returned to the car and headed back to Sunnydale. Mystique tried to ignore the other four women as they started to talk some more about some celebrity scandal.
At least their mission had been accomplished.