Chapter 6
Xander pulled his car up in front of Anya's apartment building. She smiled as he got out of the car to open her door. Sometimes, he could be quite the gentleman.
He held out a hand to help her from the car. Not that she needed help, he knew, but it was one of the few little ways he was still allowed to touch her. The parking lot of her complex was well-lit - a key feature for those who were repeatedly attacked by demons, 'cause you always wanted to know what was coming after you.
She was still beautiful, standing there with the moonlight reflecting on her dark brown hair. He wished...but wishing was futile, unless he was going to wish vengeance on himself in Anya's name.
Xander clenched his teeth, knowing it was his fault that they were going home to separate apartments. He'd done the unforgivable, and now he had to pay. If he hadn't left her at the altar, they'd be together now.
Anya grew uneasy at Xander's continued scrutiny. What was he staring at, and why didn't he let go of her hand? Not that she really wanted him to let go, she admitted; she loved the warmth of his hands. True, now she was a vengeance demon again, with power beyond his comprehension, but she'd been mortal once, and his arms had made her feel safe. She wished she could run into them, hold him, touch his body and make the rest of the world go away. But she couldn't. All that had ended the horrible day he'd left her at the altar.
"Xander?" Anya asked.
He looked down, belatedly realizing he still held her hand. "Sorry, Ahn." He let her go, putting his hands in his pockets to remind himself not to touch her again. "Just thinking."
"About?" She asked, scrutinizing his face for any sign of what was going on in his mind.
"Elves...demons..." he offered hesitantly, before looking up and meeting her gaze. "Us."
"Us?" All thoughts of elves, demons, and world-ending danger faded away. Anya's heart was pounding furiously in her chest, her world narrowing to the two of them in that one moment.
Xander brought one hand up to cup her cheek, gently stroking the silky skin. Anya closed her eyes and nuzzled against his hand, her hand coming up to hold his closer.
"Anya," he whispered as they drew closer to each other.
"Shh." She placed one finger over his lips to stop his words. "Don't say anything. Just for tonight, make the world go away."
Their lips met, bodies melding in the dark moonlight. It was a long time before either had the willpower to pull apart long enough to enter Anya's apartment.
****
"They have the ring," growled the deposed white wizard, striding through the underground cavern. "And the elf still lives."
"C'mon, gramps," a voice in the darkness said, as an impeccably dressed blonde woman stepped from the shadows. "Don't get your robes in a wad. He'll die, the witch'll go crazy, and the ring will return to us, bringing with it a powerful ally. Simple, really."
Saruman, resurrected wizard, glared at The First. Its continually-changing appearance annoy the Maiar no end. Why couldn't the blasted thing pick a shape and stay that way? More perplexing, the First appeared to favor forms that had been defeated by the Slayer - an ancient vampire referred to as The Master, a dark-haired vampire woman known as Drusilla, a demonic being that had once been Sunnydale's mayor, a human-demon hybrid called Adam, an annoying minor sorcerer named Warren, and its current incarnation, a hell-goddess from a parallel dimension who identified herself by the preposterous name of Glory. The First even appeared in the form of the Slayer, who, as Saruman understood it, had died more than once but was not currently dead.
Slayers. They had not had such menaces during his time.
"Don't forget who's in charge here," First-Glory warned. "I raised you from the ground to carry out my plan. You may be a powerful old evil wizard, but I'm evil itself. Older than even the Maiar." She stalked over to him, making sure his eyes were following his every move. "You've died once, old man. You're not immortal - but I am."
Saruman's eyes flashed dark at its words. He glared at the apparition before him.
"I'm the ultimate evil. I've been waiting a long time for this and I'm going to win this fight." She turned, walked back to a flat outcropping of rock along the wall and lifted herself up on it. "Our time is coming sooner than anyone thinks. So sit back and enjoy the show." She smiled evilly. "I know I will."
****
"Round and round, up and down." Spike muttered to himself. He couldn't see anyone else in the room he'd claimed as his in the basement of the high school, but that didn't mean someone wasn't there.
Someone was always there, watching, waiting. Lurking in the shadows. He heard whispers, voices calling his name, telling him to do terrible things. He didn't want to do terrible things. He was good now, but the people in the darkness didn't understand.
"It's not time. Not time." He hunched down on the ground, completely still. If he didn't move, the voices couldn't find him. "Time is. Time was. Time to kill. No. Not to kill. Time to pay." He shook his head. "Must pay. William's been a naughty boy. Must pay."
Still. Quiet. Had to be quiet as a mouse. Mustn't disturb mother. Must protect...
No! Voices. "Voices in my head," he moaned. "Voices. Make them stop." When his quiet murmurs weren't sufficient, he yelled out "Get out of my head!"
"Now Spike," came a voice from the shadows on the side of the room. "You don't really mean that."
She stepped into view. Buffy. But not Buffy. Evil. Evil Buffy. "You're not her." He shook his head. "You're not Buffy."
"I'm who you want me to be, Spike," she taunted.
"Leave me alone." He turned around and closed his eyes. She wasn't real. He didn't have to see her, hear her. All he had to do was turn away.
Behind Spike, Buffy morphed into Drusilla, who crouched down beside him. "Now why would I want to do that to my Spike when I have such big plans for him?" She leaned closer, whispering in his ear. "You can't escape me, no matter how hard you try. You're mine, forever..."
Straightening up, Drusilla morphed back into Buffy. "Don't worry, Spike. It's not your time yet... but one day, it will be."
He watched as she disappeared in a flash of light.
****
From a corner of Spike's basement room, Trance Gemini watched. Out of sync with time and space, the time-altering alien was invisible to his eyes. Good thing, she thought, because he didn't look like he could handle another shock to his system. He'd get better, she reassured herself, knowing that he had to. Too much was riding on Spike for him to fail now.
She shouldn't be here, shouldn't be in this time, but to ensure a perfect possible future, she had to watch events closely. She'd already set fate in motion in Los Angeles, sending help to the champion of the 'City of Angels.' It wasn't time for her here yet. Silently she faded back to her own time.
Xander pulled his car up in front of Anya's apartment building. She smiled as he got out of the car to open her door. Sometimes, he could be quite the gentleman.
He held out a hand to help her from the car. Not that she needed help, he knew, but it was one of the few little ways he was still allowed to touch her. The parking lot of her complex was well-lit - a key feature for those who were repeatedly attacked by demons, 'cause you always wanted to know what was coming after you.
She was still beautiful, standing there with the moonlight reflecting on her dark brown hair. He wished...but wishing was futile, unless he was going to wish vengeance on himself in Anya's name.
Xander clenched his teeth, knowing it was his fault that they were going home to separate apartments. He'd done the unforgivable, and now he had to pay. If he hadn't left her at the altar, they'd be together now.
Anya grew uneasy at Xander's continued scrutiny. What was he staring at, and why didn't he let go of her hand? Not that she really wanted him to let go, she admitted; she loved the warmth of his hands. True, now she was a vengeance demon again, with power beyond his comprehension, but she'd been mortal once, and his arms had made her feel safe. She wished she could run into them, hold him, touch his body and make the rest of the world go away. But she couldn't. All that had ended the horrible day he'd left her at the altar.
"Xander?" Anya asked.
He looked down, belatedly realizing he still held her hand. "Sorry, Ahn." He let her go, putting his hands in his pockets to remind himself not to touch her again. "Just thinking."
"About?" She asked, scrutinizing his face for any sign of what was going on in his mind.
"Elves...demons..." he offered hesitantly, before looking up and meeting her gaze. "Us."
"Us?" All thoughts of elves, demons, and world-ending danger faded away. Anya's heart was pounding furiously in her chest, her world narrowing to the two of them in that one moment.
Xander brought one hand up to cup her cheek, gently stroking the silky skin. Anya closed her eyes and nuzzled against his hand, her hand coming up to hold his closer.
"Anya," he whispered as they drew closer to each other.
"Shh." She placed one finger over his lips to stop his words. "Don't say anything. Just for tonight, make the world go away."
Their lips met, bodies melding in the dark moonlight. It was a long time before either had the willpower to pull apart long enough to enter Anya's apartment.
****
"They have the ring," growled the deposed white wizard, striding through the underground cavern. "And the elf still lives."
"C'mon, gramps," a voice in the darkness said, as an impeccably dressed blonde woman stepped from the shadows. "Don't get your robes in a wad. He'll die, the witch'll go crazy, and the ring will return to us, bringing with it a powerful ally. Simple, really."
Saruman, resurrected wizard, glared at The First. Its continually-changing appearance annoy the Maiar no end. Why couldn't the blasted thing pick a shape and stay that way? More perplexing, the First appeared to favor forms that had been defeated by the Slayer - an ancient vampire referred to as The Master, a dark-haired vampire woman known as Drusilla, a demonic being that had once been Sunnydale's mayor, a human-demon hybrid called Adam, an annoying minor sorcerer named Warren, and its current incarnation, a hell-goddess from a parallel dimension who identified herself by the preposterous name of Glory. The First even appeared in the form of the Slayer, who, as Saruman understood it, had died more than once but was not currently dead.
Slayers. They had not had such menaces during his time.
"Don't forget who's in charge here," First-Glory warned. "I raised you from the ground to carry out my plan. You may be a powerful old evil wizard, but I'm evil itself. Older than even the Maiar." She stalked over to him, making sure his eyes were following his every move. "You've died once, old man. You're not immortal - but I am."
Saruman's eyes flashed dark at its words. He glared at the apparition before him.
"I'm the ultimate evil. I've been waiting a long time for this and I'm going to win this fight." She turned, walked back to a flat outcropping of rock along the wall and lifted herself up on it. "Our time is coming sooner than anyone thinks. So sit back and enjoy the show." She smiled evilly. "I know I will."
****
"Round and round, up and down." Spike muttered to himself. He couldn't see anyone else in the room he'd claimed as his in the basement of the high school, but that didn't mean someone wasn't there.
Someone was always there, watching, waiting. Lurking in the shadows. He heard whispers, voices calling his name, telling him to do terrible things. He didn't want to do terrible things. He was good now, but the people in the darkness didn't understand.
"It's not time. Not time." He hunched down on the ground, completely still. If he didn't move, the voices couldn't find him. "Time is. Time was. Time to kill. No. Not to kill. Time to pay." He shook his head. "Must pay. William's been a naughty boy. Must pay."
Still. Quiet. Had to be quiet as a mouse. Mustn't disturb mother. Must protect...
No! Voices. "Voices in my head," he moaned. "Voices. Make them stop." When his quiet murmurs weren't sufficient, he yelled out "Get out of my head!"
"Now Spike," came a voice from the shadows on the side of the room. "You don't really mean that."
She stepped into view. Buffy. But not Buffy. Evil. Evil Buffy. "You're not her." He shook his head. "You're not Buffy."
"I'm who you want me to be, Spike," she taunted.
"Leave me alone." He turned around and closed his eyes. She wasn't real. He didn't have to see her, hear her. All he had to do was turn away.
Behind Spike, Buffy morphed into Drusilla, who crouched down beside him. "Now why would I want to do that to my Spike when I have such big plans for him?" She leaned closer, whispering in his ear. "You can't escape me, no matter how hard you try. You're mine, forever..."
Straightening up, Drusilla morphed back into Buffy. "Don't worry, Spike. It's not your time yet... but one day, it will be."
He watched as she disappeared in a flash of light.
****
From a corner of Spike's basement room, Trance Gemini watched. Out of sync with time and space, the time-altering alien was invisible to his eyes. Good thing, she thought, because he didn't look like he could handle another shock to his system. He'd get better, she reassured herself, knowing that he had to. Too much was riding on Spike for him to fail now.
She shouldn't be here, shouldn't be in this time, but to ensure a perfect possible future, she had to watch events closely. She'd already set fate in motion in Los Angeles, sending help to the champion of the 'City of Angels.' It wasn't time for her here yet. Silently she faded back to her own time.