Notes: Believe it or not, the historical information Anya spouts off in typical Anya fashion is accurate. Just goes to show how repressed society was. And what kind of weird info you can find on the net.
Also, a fluffer is the person who works between takes on a porno set to… Uh… Make sure the guy is ready to go on screen. OK, and now you all think I'm some sort of weirdo because I know things like this.
She was starting to believe that this was real. It was too odd not to be. D'Hoffryn, while a genius when it came to torture and pain, didn't have the kind of imagination it took to make a fantasy world as real as this one. He couldn't create the illusion of smells that drifted in from the kitchen or the plates that they brought to her. He couldn't make the taste of her favorite foods.
And the thing that broke through her haze was the one thing her ex-boss never understood and therefore could not create: tenderness. The tenderness that Spike showed every day when he gave her a sponge bath and washed her hair. The gentleness he had used when he had trimmed the ragged ends and then brushed her hair until it shone. The care he took when he fed her the warm broths and tried to entice her with bits of chocolate and talk of money. D'Hoffryn was incapable of such acts.
So, she watched the people who bustled around her, studying them when they did not realize she was awake, much less aware. Spike she knew, of course. She knew his tenderness and his capacity for violence. He was different now, though. His skin was warm and his flesh glowed with the power of his pulse. While still pale, he was no longer the white of someone long dead. He had often opened the curtains of the bedroom wide while he sat with her, enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin as he read or talked.
Kate was also a frequent visitor. She came every night, at first complaining about being an invalid and being left behind. She settled down after her nightly tirade and told Anya how many days she had left before the cast came off. She spoke of her frustration with her day job and having been regulated to a desk until she was more mobile. Kate talked about her friends and companions, sharing humorous tales from the day.
The one Spike called Fish and Kate called Greg was an infrequent visitor. When he did come into the room, it was to tell Spike or Kate that they were needed elsewhere. She rarely even got a glimpse of his short brown hair. She could tell that he was young, though, despite the grey that peppered the sides of his head. That was all she saw of him now, as he motioned for Kate to join him downstairs.
Anya waited for a moment before sitting up fully on the bed. She was still weak, despite Spike's care. Her legs trembled as she stood and she had to lean against the wall for a moment until the black spots that swam across her eyes went away. She shuffled forward, following the wall to the door before making her way across the expanse of the living room with the gate of an old woman.
She heard their voices as soon as she opened the outer door. She instantly recognized Spike's voice detailing an attack on himself and someone he referred to as Charver. Knowing Spike's predilection for nicknames, she filed the information away with a grain of salt.
Once again using the wall for support, she stumbled to the flight of stairs at the end of the walkway. To most it would be only a small obstacle, but to her it looked like she was at the top of Mount Everest, trying to find a path down with no equipment. Not that the top of Everest was a bad place. She had sent one couple there so long ago, when the woman, who had felt jealous of the attention awarded to her husband, wished that they could be absolutely alone. And so they were, until they froze to death.
The quartet of people below her hadn't noticed her presence, which was fine by her. Some part of her needed to do this alone, needed to prove that she was still alive. That is why she grasped the railing firmly with one hand and took the first step.
She must have made some noise, she thought later, as she felt herself falling, too weak to traverse even one step. The next thing she knew, strong, warm arms were wrapped around her and a quiet voice was asking what she was doing.
She looked silently, mutinously, up into Kal's broad face. He had her cradled against his chest like a child, the traditional braid of a Pylean warrior brushing against her face. She remembered him telling her that for a time he had worn his hair in the style of humans, but had grown it back out as a reminder that he was not fully human and should never forget his heritage.
"Let's get you back to bed," he said, taking that first all important step that she could not.
"No." He voice was rough from the amount of screaming she had done. To make sure he understood, she shook her head, only to groan as that made the black spots reappear.
"You OK, pet?" Spike asked from where he stood slightly below Kal. Anya nodded silently. "Do you want to come down?" Another nod prompted Kal to turn back around and follow the blonde down the stairs.
Being carried down stairs was not the most comfortable of things, she decided as Kal placed her on a couch and fluffed a pillow before placing it behind her head. Fluff. Fluffer, now that's a job I could get into. Except no orgasms, since that would be defeating the purpose of a fluffer. She had to drag her thoughts back on track when Spike asked her a question.
"Water," she answered, once he repeated his question.
The ex-vampire nodded and loped to a small refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water. She smiled a weak smile of thanks to both him and Kal, who was tucking a blanket around her.
"How are you feeling?" the half breed asked.
"Like I was run over by a train," she answered with complete candor after taking a much needed drink. "And a bit confused. How did I get here? Where is here, for that matter?"
Spike quickly told her the story, leaving out the exact specifics of how he had threatened her old friend and compatriot. He made sure to reassure her that part of his wish was to have her free from D'Hoffryn and that Hallie knew that she had better keep to the deal.
"Jenmeryn used to grant wishes to those betrayed by their friends," she mused, once the story was done. "I'd summon her if I thought it would do any good. But I'm sure Hallie has now taken my place as favorite torturee."
"How can you be so blasé?" Kate asked, shocked by the dismissive tone in Anya's voice.
The ex-vengeance demon regarded her for a moment before speaking. "Should I feel sorry for the bitch that made me think she was dead? Whom I thought I was responsible for killing? She took part in D'Hoffryn's games, had a hand in my pain. Why should I not want her to feel the same?"
The blonde woman looked taken aback, but did not speak.
"D'Hoffryn tortured me with images of my friends' deaths, made me experience them over and over. Hallie had a different approach. She showed me scenes of her seducing the man I loved. Of them living a life of perfect happiness, where I was forgotten, wiped from his very memory. She made me watch him give her orgasms over and over again. Sorry if I'm not feeling very sympathetic."
Kal clucked his tongue and fussed with her blanket while she continued to stare at Kate. The blonde looked away first, her expression sheepish.
"Now that you've spanked your inner moppet," Connor said, only to frown at the phrase that he had uttered. "I'm Connor. I don't think we've been formally introduced."
"Anya Jenkins," she replied. "What's a moppet?"
"How are you feeling, Anya?" Spike broke in.
"Pretty good, considering everything, I think. I'm not ready to go on a marathon sex romp, but considering I was brought back to life and tortured, I don't think anyone would be surprised by that."
Greg's eyebrows rose at her pronouncement. "You've spent over a year being tortured all you can say is you're not up for sex?"
"Why, do you wish to give me hot, sweaty orgasms?"
Spike chuckled at his friend's expression in regards to Anya's question. "You'll have to get used to Anya. She says exactly what she thinks."
Greg shifted uncomfortably. "I meant, how is it possible that you're not a quivering little mass of whimpers?"
"Oh, so you do want to be my sex friend," she replied, much to the amusement of both Spike and Kal.
"I meant," the red-faced Greg tried again. "How is your mental stability?"
"Why didn't you say so in the first place? You're wondering how damaged I am, correct? Not very. It's not as much fun torturing someone who's off their rocker, especially when you've got the power to make sure they stay oriented. So D'Hoffryn just made sure that I didn't lose my mind."
"There's ways to make sure a person doesn't go crazy?" Connor asked.
"Sure," Anya replied with a shrug. "There's all types of magical means of insuring sanity. That's what he used. What was it I heard a minute ago about the Order of Teraka?"
Everyone except Spike seemed a bit nonplussed by the abrupt subject change. He was used to Anya's quirks and explained his earlier encounter with the demons and the realization that someone was trying to kill them.
"So, you rescued me just to put me in danger again? Way to go, Spike."
"You can leave any time you want, pet," the ex-vampire grumbled, falling back on his old habit of being snarky to people.
"And where would I go?"
"Angel would put you up for a few days, I'm sure. Long enough for you to get back on your feet. Might even give you the money to hop out to wherever the whelp is, if you ask nicely."
"No, that would mean seeing Cordelia. I still have bitterness issues. Besides, I know that Xander has moved on. I don't particularly want to interfere."
Spike groaned silently as Kal's face lit up at the mention of Cordelia. The man-demon latched on to the name with the ferocity of a pit bull, just as the ex-vampire expected him to.
"You know Cordelia?" he asked gleefully.
Anya eyed him warily before nodding. "I do."
"Cordelia is – was – my princess."
"Hmm," was all Anya said, though Spike would have sworn he heard her mumble a comment on Cordelia getting to all the good guys first. No one else in the room seemed to notice, so he put it down to mere fancy.
"Anyway, the Order of Teraka. I had a thing with one back in the 1700s. Garn was a ruthless bastard, that was sure. He used to tell me the most wonderful tales of ripping out spines for money. It made me want to start charging for wishes."
"Anya, pet, for a bird that claims to have hated men, you sure had 'things' with an awful lot."
Anya shrugged, unconcerned. "Vibrators weren't mass marketed until the 1900s. I had to get sexual gratification during the other 1100 years I was alive. I bought one of the first vibrators on the market, although at the time they were to be medical tools used to treat Hysteria, not sexual toys."
"Vibrators were used to treat fear?" Connor asked, oddly fascinated by the information.
Spike chuckled and waited for Anya's explanation. Or, more precisely his friend's reactions to the tidbit of history Anya was sure to impart.
"No, not fear: Hysteria. It was a 'disease'," she made little air quotes to insure that they understood the sarcasm. "That many women had. If their husbands couldn't give them orgasms, then obviously they had a disease, right? Women actually went to doctors for treatment, which consisted of physical stimulation, originally by hand and later by vibrator, to achieve orgasm. The vibrator was actually the fifth home appliance to be electrified."
The others stared at her in shocked disbelief.
"Of course, all those bored housewives could have saved a lot of time and money if they had just found a hunk of man flesh that was able to perform coitus adequately."
"What's a vibrator?" Kal asked, confused by the terms Anya had bandied about. He thought she was talking about com-shucking, but in all honesty, wasn't sure. Why would a woman need a machine during the com-shuck?
"I'll explain it to you later," Anya stated calmly. "Humans are prudes who think talking about sexual gratification is taboo."
Connor's embarrassed cough broke the awkward silence that followed this pronouncement. "S-so… What can you tell us about Terakans?"
"Only that you must have really pissed someone off. Terakans are the highest paid assassins in the world. To have one after you is sorta an honor, it means that someone cares enough about you to spend that much money. To set three on one person is virtually unheard of. It's widely believed that they all work alone and that someone will try to kill the target until the job's done. That's not really how they work, though, according to Garn. The client pays for a number of assassins and offers a large bounty to whoever completes the job. Most people only hire one guy at a time because they're so expensive."
"How much did you pay them, Spike?" Greg asked.
"Too bloody much, for all the good they did me. Hired three blokes for a couple a million apiece and offered another five for the bounty. It was only that cheap because they all wanted a chance to go up against the slayer that had defeated the Master. Angel still got away and Buffy dropped an organ on me head. Not the most successful of plans."
Spike shifted uncomfortably under the gazes of Kate and Connor, who were regarding him as if he were going to jump out of the chair and bite them.
"'Ey, I was evil! Trying to kill the slayer was what I did at the time."
"So, who have we pissed off enough to merit this treatment?" Greg asked, drawing all eyes back to him.
"None of the demons we go after are organized enough to set up something like that," Connor ventured. "Usually we pick off lone vamps, maybe a nest or two. It's not like we're the scourge of the underworld."
"Could there be a master vampire out there that is tired of losing minions?" Kate asked.
"Doubtful," Greg replied, taking a drink of his bottle of water. "Most masters are too hands-on to deal with mercenaries. If one wanted us dead, he would most likely just go after us with all his minions. And unless someone's been holding back with the stories, that hasn't happened."
Everyone quickly denied leaving details out of their nightly debrief, except for Anya, who had fallen into a light doze.
"I have a feelin' it's connected to the attack on you and Copper. Angel said he'd look into who had the resources to call up a nevary. I suppose I should pay him another visit tomorrow and tell him about the Terakans, see if he has any thoughts in that over-gelled head of his. Yes, Kal," he said to the half breed that was practically quivering with the need to ask to go. "You can come with me and ask after the cheerleader."
Connor and Greg both opened their mouths to object, but he cut them off. "I know I'm not the Hawkeye of our little band of misfits, but this is one thing I'm not budgin' on. Angel an' I have a long and bloody history that I don't want you caught up in. The only reason Kal gets ta go is so he can check on his princess."
Greg reluctantly nodded and Connor looked mutinous at the pronouncement, but before the end of the night, Spike got their agreement to stay away from Wolfram and Hart.
The same receptionist manned the welcome desk at Wolfram and Hart. Spike gifted her with a predatory grin when he smelt the fear roll off of her.
"'Lo again, pet. Tell the Grand Poof that Spike's 'ere ta see 'im."
The young woman whimpered and reached for the phone.
Satisfied that this time around he would be treated with respect, Spike turned from her and surveyed Kal, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet beside him. Impatience was written in every line of the half breed's body, giving him an air of a hyperactive child on a sugar high.
"You can go right up," the receptionist said, and pointed a shaking finger towards the elevator. "Mr. Angel is in his office, which is on the eighteenth floor."
"Ta, ducks," he stated before leading the quivering Kal to the elevator.
The ride up was over shortly, relieving Spike from the torture that was musak, and they found themselves in a well-appointed outer office. The zombie, Lilah, was ensconced behind a large cherry desk, a file open before her.
"Mr. Bloody," she greeted before focusing on his companion. The only reason he saw her start of surprise was because he was looking for some sign that Angel hadn't been spying on him. "Groosalugg, I wasn't aware that you knew Spike. Angel is expecting you, go right in."
Spike nodded companionably to the woman and crossed to the large double doors that separated the poof's office from hers. What he saw brought him up short. Angel was leaning over his large desk, doing paper work, and completely unconcerned with the blast of sun that fell directly on him.
"Neat trick," he said. "Find another Gem of Amara?"
Angel looked up from his work and scowled at his visitors. "Special filter on the glass. Groo! I thought you went back to Pylea."
Kal shrugged his shoulders and met Angel halfway across the room, clasping his forearm in the way of warriors. "I decided Earth needed warriors more than Pylea. I have been 'helping the hopeless' since I left my princess. Where is Cordelia?"
Angel grimaced and called for his assistant through the still-open doors.
"Sit down, Groo. Lilah, send Lorne to my office, tell him that I need him to take Groo to see Cordy. Groo," he said, once the zombie had left. "After you left, something happened to Cordy. She was possessed by evil, and as a result, she got really sick. Do you know what a coma is?"
"Spike tried to explain it to me, but I did not understand."
"A coma is a sleep that a person can't wake up from," Angel explained as Spike laid a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder."
"My princess is asleep? I will wake her with a kiss, like the tale she told me."
"I wish it were that simple," Angel sighed, fidgeting with his fingers.
"Then I will kill the evil that causes this wakeless sleep. I am surprised that you have not done so, Angel."
"Still, not that simple, Groo. The evil had been part of her, and once it came out, we think it took some essential part of Cordy with it. We've had the best doctors and mystics treat her. None of them gave us hope. Do you remember Jasmine?"
"The flower that bloomed in the courtyard, yes."
"No, the person. She had taken over LA about a year ago. After the rain of fire and the eternal night."
"No, I am sorry. A year ago I was in a place called Washington. When I came back I heard tales of the events you described, but I was not here to witness them."
"That's OK," Angel said as Lorne, the green-skinned demon who had read Spike, came in. "It's probably better that you weren't here. Lorne, could you take Groo to see Cordy?"
"Sure thing, Angel cakes. How ya holding up there, Groo?"
Kal frowned up at the demon. "Kal. My name is Kalverun of the Hardgerick Clan. Groosalugg is a title."
"Well, I knew that, sweetie," Lorne said, patting his friend's arm as he drew him to his feet. "But since everyone called you the Groosalugg, I just assumed you had never been gifted with a name. Hardgerick Clan, huh? You wouldn't happen to be the son of old Rathagack, would you?" At Kal's cautious acknowledgement of the relationship, Lorne's smile grew. "Well, what do you know? That means we're cousins. Eighth cousins twice removed, I think. Rathagack was my mother's seventh once removed. Ah, who knows, I could never keep that stuff straight in my head.
"And Spike, dumpling, you are looking a sight better than you were the last time I saw you. How's that soul mate of yours?"
Hoping Angel hadn't caught the quick glance he threw his way, Spike answered the gregarious demon. "A bit confused about the incredible appearin' tats, but good."
"That's faboo, sweetie. I can't wait to meet her. Anyone who can steal the heart of two totally different vampires is someone I have got to know. Bring her by when she comes down. I'm sure she'll want to play catch up with the big sap."
Lorne pulled Kal out of the room, seemingly unaware of the fact that he had just told Angel the one bit of information that Spike didn't want his grandsire to know. As the door closed, Spike turned to face the vampire, tensed in preparation for the fight he was sure was about to happen.
"You're gathering quite the little group, aren't you?" Angel said as he unconcernedly turned his back on the blonde and returned to his desk. He quickly sat and gestured for the younger to join him before speaking again.
"You're friends with Connor and Gr-Kal. Are there any more of my friends that you've managed to pick up?"
Spike eyed him uncertainly, confused by amiable tone of Angel's voice. While admittedly he had never spent that much time around the souled Angel, the soulless Angelus would have pounded his head into pudding by now.
"A cop named Lockley. I don't think you have any connection to Fish, unless you want to play Six Degrees of Separation."
"Kate? How is she?"
"Good. She's one of the ones who was attacked by the nevary, but she's recoverin'."
"She's back on the force?" Angel asked.
"'Parently, they decided that someone who had experience with the shadier side, so ta speak, was of the good."
"I'm happy for her. What brings you here, though?"
"Got attacked by three members of the Order of Teraka last night. Figured it was the same bloke who set the nevary after us. Thought you'd want to know, at least if you really are looking into it."
Angel decided to ignore the baiting note in Spike's voice. "I have been looking into it. So far, we haven't found out who summoned the nevary. But having the Terakan lead will provide a big help."
"Have you found anything?"
"Actually," Angel said, leaning back in his chair. "We found out why you came back."
Spike immediately sat up. "Don't keep me in suspense, Peaches. What's the what?"
"You've been spending too much time with Buffy," he said with a rueful shake of his head. "You're starting to sound like her. The amulet sent you to a dimension called Kjewlreraw. It's a pretty pleasant place, as far as demon dimensions go. The inhabitants are peaceful but a bit bogged down by tradition. They don't like change or the unexpected. They definitely didn't appreciate me opening a portal so I could talk to them."
He leaned forward in his chair and smirked at the ex-vampire. "The reason they sent you back, believe it or not, was because they were afraid you would upset their socio-political structure."
Spike stared at his elder for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Yo-you mean ta tell me that they sent me back because they were afraid I'd take over?"
Angel, despite his desire not to, couldn't help but join in Spike's mirth. "I know. I know. It sounds like a bad cliché. Anyway," he continued, once they had gotten their laughter under control. "Apparently the amulet was a legendary symbol there. Their version of the Sword in the Stone, I guess. And when their prophesized king showed up looking like you…"
"They flipped their hide-bound wigs?"
"That's one way of putting it," Angel laughed. "You were definitely not what they expected. They were a bit put off by the hair, to say the least. So, the ruling council decided to put a figurehead on the throne and sent you back."
"An' it took them a year to decide that?"
"No, actually, you were only there for a couple of days, and in Kjewlreraw time moves the same as it does here. Wes's theory is that you spent time in some sort of nether world, being transformed into whatever you are now. Which reminds me, Fred and Wes would like to study you."
"Not bloody likely. Had enough pokin' and proddin' by the Initiative blokes, thank you ever so much. Not in any real hurry to go another round."
Angel considered him for a moment before speaking. "I could force you, you know."
"You can bloody well try. In case you didn't notice during the last go round, despite the heart beat, I'm still strong. And trying to force me to do somethin' like that is a sure way to get me to go a bit berserk."
"Or, I can just wait until Buffy gets here and have her convince you."
Spike, who had leaned back in a careful show of nonchalance when Angel mentioned studying him, sat up straight once again. "Slayer's comin' here?"
"Didn't she tell you when you talked to her? She's making the trip once Dawn's school lets out for winter break. Dawn's coming with her, of course, and I think Willow."
"No, she didn't tell me. When?"
"Dawn's break starts December 19."
Spike nodded thoughtfully. "There anything else we need to discuss?"
"Just why my Director of Entertainment didn't seem at all surprised that you were in my office, and, oh yeah, how he happens to know you."
Spike smirked. "That's your fault, actually, Peaches. He came to do a sanctuary inspection. How was I to know you'd taken over some law firm?"
Angel didn't look satisfied, so Spike continued the tale of Lorne's accidental reading and promise not to tell his boss.
"I really need to talk to him about client confidentiality when it interferes with what we do here," Angel said ruefully.
Spike eventually returned to the Warehouse, sans Kal. The half breed had never returned to the Wolfram and Hart building, but he wasn't particularly worried about that. Kal had a lot of issues to work out and knew the way home. Spike only hoped that he was together enough to avoid any attacks made by the shadow figure that had a grudge.
"Anya," he greeted the girl who was once again stationed on the main floor's couch. The young woman waved distractedly at him as she focused on the news report playing on the small TV. One look assured him that it was the business report.
"I hope they didn't sell my stocks," she finally said once the report was over. "They should have earned me quite a bit of money over the last year. But, knowing Xander, he sold them all with no regard for the potential profit. I knew I should have changed my will after D'Hoffryn banished me."
"Where's everyone else?"
"Kate had to go to work. Something about a snafu with some paperwork. She was not happy about it. I haven't seen Connor since this morning. Greg got bored about an hour ago and took off."
"Pet," he said after a few moments of silence. "Do you want me to e-mail Willow an' tell her you're alive?"
"Why on Earth would you do that? It's not like Willow and I were the best of friends."
"But she was a friend, same as Buffy, Nibblet, an' the Whelp. I'm sure they'd like to know."
"I should probably contact them just to see if Xander managed to not spend all of my hard-earned money. I just… I don't want him rushing here thinking that everything will be the way it was. You know, before the wedding."
"I understand, pet. But I thought you an' he had hashed that all out."
"We had. We even had break up sex. So, I shouldn't be nervous, should I?"
"I think that you should be however you are, Demon Girl. If you don't want to tell 'em, don't. Simple as that. Far as I'm concerned, you can stay with me as long as you want. Or, even better, we can fix up the other suite for you."
"But, I can't pay rent. And as much as I appreciate the offer of rent-free living, I have learned the value of paying your own way."
Spike chuckled. "You will be payin' for your keep, pet. Just help out with the research. Greg an' Kate aren't exactly watchers, if you hadn't noticed. Kal doesn't know how to read well enough to help an' Connor's busy with school. All of 'em are bollocks when it comes to anything magical, which means that I'm the only one who's got any magical ability and I like the mojo just about as much as you like a recession."
Anya considered this information for a moment before nodding her head in agreement. "Sounds like a mutually beneficial arrangement. What will the others think of it?"
"They'll probably be so happy to hear me stop complainin' about research that they'll agree without a thought."
"Agree to what?" Greg asked mock-suspiciously from the doorway. Kate balanced on her crutches behind him, a glare directed at his broad shoulders.
"Anya movin' into one of the empty lots. She can help with research."
"Sounds good to me. Kate?"
The detective frowned at their de facto leader. "As long as she doesn't call me in to help fix speeding tickets, I don't care."
"It's not like you weren't at the station anyway," Greg pointed out, grabbing a bottle of water and plopping into a chair.
"You were going 90 in a 30 zone," she snapped, using her good foot to kick his feet off the small coffee table he had propped them on. "The only reason you're not sitting in a cell is because I swore to the captain that you were my boyfriend and you were speeding because you were trying to surprise me with a romantic lunch. You're lucky Captain Logan is a softy."
Spike exchanged a wry glance with Anya as the two pure humans continued to argue about Greg's speeding habit. This was the third ticket she had fixed for him in the same number of weeks and even an idiot could tell that she was tired of it. Greg just smiled unrepentantly as she continued to rant.
"Tell you what, as soon as that cast's off, I'll take you out on the bike and you can see for yourself why I always get tickets."
"I know exactly why you get tickets," she snapped. "It's because you go too damn fast. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you have a death wish."
"I don't have a death wish," he stated calmly.
"No, you just try to pretend you're Superman. You try your damnedest to keep up with Spike, Connor, and Kal. You try to make up for the fact that you think you're deficient."
"I do not," he snapped, bolting upright.
"No, you're right, you don't. You do it all, the speeding, the patrolling, to prove to yourself that you're good enough for some stupid blonde's regard. A person you told me yourself ran away from this life."
Spike raised an eyebrow as he watched Greg's face turn an interesting shade of purple. This had just gotten really interesting.
"I do not do this to prove something to Buffy Damn Summers!"
Anya sent a questioning look Spike's way, which he waved off. He knew Greg's past with the slayer and honestly believed that Greg was right. Whatever inner demons he fought, he did not do so because of Buffy.
"Yeah, right. You told me all about her, remember? She was the one who introduced you to the night life. And then she ran away. Flitted off to a better life, leaving you holding the bag."
Greg scowled down at Kate and snapped, "Buffy was a friend, nothing more. And I never said she flitted off to some better life. She flitted off to heartache and Hell."
"Oh yeah, real Hell. She ran off and had an affair with a vampire! What, you thought I wouldn't connect the name? I'm a cop, this is what I do!"
"Kate, I would advise you to stop talking about now."
"How'd it feel to be thrown over for an evil creature? Is that why you still hunt them? Hoping one day you'll get lucky and find Angel?"
Greg, apparently at his rope's end, gave a wordless growl and stormed back outside. Seconds later they all heard the sound of his cycle revving then peeling out. Kate continued to glare darkly at where he disappeared, having long since forgotten about her audience.
Spike reined in his own frayed temper and quietly ordered Kate to sit.
"I think, Copper, that you're the one that has the problem here. I'm just sorry that I didn't see it sooner. Let me guess, you had a bit of a crush on Angel but found out about the love of his bloody life? Shut up," he snapped when she opened her mouth to refute his claim.
"So, then, you finally find another guy you're interested in and lo an' behold, Buffy was there first. Guess what? It's in the bloody past, get over it. Buffy isn't going to come back to town and swoop in and steal your guy. You want to know why Fish patrols every night, ask him instead of jumping to stupid, wrong conclusions. Until a few months ago, he hadn't even given Buffy a second thought, much less knew what she had gotten up to after leaving LA."
Afraid he'd say too much, Spike grabbed his duster and stomped out of the Warehouse, determined to avoid all humanity until his temper cooled. He desperately wished it were dark so that he would have some vampires to pound.
Kate turned wide eyes to Anya, who sat watching her calmly.
"What the fuck is it about Buffy Summers, bitch extraordinaire, that makes men put her on a damn pedestal?" she finally asked, not expecting an answer.
"You really don't know, do you?" Anya finally said, looking at Kate as if she were a specimen under a microscope. "And they always said I opened my mouth before thinking. You have just ostracized two of your friends by bad mouthing someone you don't know."
"I know her," Kate snapped back as she settled wearily into Greg's abandoned chair. "I've met her before. She didn't strike me as all that."
Anya shook her head. "I may not understand all the undercurrents around here yet, but even I can see that what you just did was a mistake. Fortunately, it's not my problem to fix. It's yours."
She looked up as the outer door opened once again, this time revealing Kal. Anya quickly noted the strained lines around his mouth and eyes and decided that it might be best if the man didn't have to deal with Kate's issues.
"Kal, could you help me upstairs? I don't particularly want to be in Kate's company right now."
The half breed hurried over to her and helped her to her feet. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just don't want to talk to her at the moment. I might lose my temper, which I think would be of the bad. Maybe you could show me the empty apartment? If I'm going to stick around, I'll need my own place. God knows I can't keep crashing at Spike's."
Kal's face lit up slightly as he steadied her on the trip upstairs, Kate apparently forgotten.
The apartment was a mirror of Spike's. The slate countertops contrasted nicely with the hardwood floors, giving it a sophisticated yet rustic look. The cream walls were bare of ornamentation. It was a very nice apartment, as far as apartments went. It only had one bedroom, which was all she needed, of course. The living area was big enough to hold any and all electrical equipment she could possibly ever want and the bathroom, like all the bathrooms in the Warehouse, Kal confessed, sported a whirlpool tub. The only thing she could wish for was that it had a washer and dryer hook up. Kal explained that they all shared a small laundry room in one corner of the building.
"You will have to buy furniture. I will gladly loan you the currency you need to do so."
"I couldn't take your money," she argued. "You work hard for what you earn and should keep it safe in the bank."
He gave a wide grin. "You know, do you not, that none of us earn money, exactly. We... I believe the word Spike likes to use is 'tax,' demons that we kill. We then clean the money. Or, at least, the others do. I have not seen them place it into the washing machine, but they assure me that they have laundered it."
She gave a delighted laugh. "Regardless of how you came by it, you surely have better things to do than give it to me."
"No, I do not. Before coming to Earth, I had two changes of clothing and all the weapons my servant could carry. Having more than that seems unnatural to me. Most of my money I give to Spike, who has promised to put it in something called a savings for me. I also give some to what he assures me is a worthy cause."
Anya frowned. Kal was way too trusting about his money. While she didn't think Spike would rob the man-demon blind, he had ample opportunity to do so. What would happen if Kal gave that same trust to someone else?
"I'll talk to Spike once he gets back. Have him give me access to your account, to your money, and I'll take whatever I need. I'll pay you back, of course. I'll also teach you how to track your own finances that way you don't have to depend on someone else to do it for you."
He frowned in confusion but didn't argue the point.
She led the way back to Spike's corner of the building and collapsed onto the couch. While she was miraculously healthy after over a year of torture, even short walks tired her. She could only hope that she would strengthen quickly.
"Did you see Cordelia?" she asked as she pulled him down beside her, grasping at anything to keep him out of the sulking Kate's range.
"Yes, I did. She is in something called a coma. They told me that it was a sleep she could not wake from."
She stared at him in shock. "I'm sorry, Kal. I'm sure Angel is doing everything in his power to help her."
"He is. They love each other, you know? That's why I left. They had such moira."
Anya nodded, understanding the Pylean word for attraction. "I've seen that before. Spike and Buffy are that way, not that she would admit it. You can just look at them and tell that nothing will ever break them up, not really."
"Buffy is the name of the warrior that Spike loves?"
"Yeah, Buffy Summers. My fiancé, my ex-fiancé, was one of her best friends. That's how I know her. Well, no, that's not true. The whole reason I know her is because of your princess."
Anya told him about her past as a vengeance demon and the wish gone wrong. A wish that Cordelia Chase, scorned woman, had made. She told him of her doomed relationship with Xander and the wedding that wasn't.
"What I really miss is the Magic Box. That was the store I owned. I miss receiving money for over-priced goods from gullible people. I miss counting the money at the end of every day."
"Perhaps you could open another shop in which to peddle your wares. Or, you could buy a wagon and travel the country and sell your product to many different people."
Anya dismissed the traveling salesperson idea out of hand, knowing that she was not suited to such a job. Selling to people throughout the country was an intriguing idea though.
"I could run an internet based company. I don't know as much about computers as Willow does, but I know enough to start, I think. I could still take money from people without actually having to deal with them. That is a great idea, Kal."
His grin broadened at her praise. "I am glad to be of service, Anyanka."
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked abruptly, only to grin when he understood the segue.
"She looked very peaceful lying there. The aides Wolfram and Hart hired make sure she looks her best every day. She used to insist on looking good, you know? She told me once that she had been the queen of Sunnydale, but that she was much happier being just Cordy of LA.
"She told me a story once, about a princess that was placed under an evil spell. Only her true love's kiss would wake her. It didn't work, though."
"Oh, Kal," she said sadly. "That's just a fairy tale. It doesn't work that way in real life."
"No? It made me realize something: I'm not her true love. I never was. I think, perhaps, Angel is. Or maybe someone she never got a chance to meet. Anyone but me."
Silently, she gathered him into her arms, awkwardly offering non-sexual comfort to ease his aching heart.