"Has Sam called Anya's parents?" Buffy whispered to Oz as they sat beside each other on the hard plastic seats in the emergency room waiting area. It was Oz's belief that they specially designed the cursed chairs to be as ergonomically uncomfortable as possible for as many people as possible. With his height, they were especially uncomfortable. His feet barely brushed the floor and he pitied Buffy as only her toes could touch from her position. He suspected it was one of many cost saving interventions instituted by some bean counting hospital administrator to convince needy folks not to visit the overworked department.
"He said that he left a message on voice mail but doubts he will hear back from them. He says she's kinda independent. He has never met either of them. Seems her parents pay her bills for her apartment and just let her do her own thing."
"She's seventeen, right? In your grade. Will they release her from the hospital without an adult?"
Oz shrugged because he really wasn't sure. The senior knew that Anya was in his grade but he really wasn't sure of much else. His lips compressed slightly. He didn't really remember meeting her before the night at the pizza place. It was slightly strange that Sam had never mentioned having a girlfriend either before that night. Sam was somewhat shy and so the fact that he even had a girlfriend was impressive. For a moment, the teen wondered why his band mate never mentioned the girl to the rest of them before he invited her to their dinner. Even Devon normally mentioned his new flame in passing before showing up with her. He believed that Sam would have been too excited to keep any type of budding relationship a secret. It seemed like another strange mystery regarding the injured Anya. He filed the thought for later consideration when the bassist came out of the emergency department doors. The automatic doors swung back shut behind him with a soft swish.
Sam stopped to inform the pair that the doctors wanted to keep Anya overnight for observation and that he needed to get going since he was already out past his curfew. Buffy cringed in companionable sympathy while Oz simply nodded in understanding. After collecting their things, the pair followed the bassist out the door.
"The doc said we can visit tomorrow if they don't discharge her," Sam explained as the trio headed towards Oz's van.
While the guitarist saw his friends safely home, the hospital staff finally vacated the room in which Anya Jenkins was transported for observation. The injured but now conscious girl was placed in a small private room without any of the special features needed for acute care. Her injuries were not too severe but the staff were being cautious because they were still unsure exactly how she received what they believed was a brief high voltage shock during the earlier earthquake. It was the only thing that easily explained the burn on her chest.
Luckily for the staff, observation only meant checking her vitals every two hours and responding to patient summons because as soon as the last nurse exited the room, a flash of green light and small pop disrupted the dim stillness of the room.
"Anyanka!" greeted a beaming D'Hoffryn as he stepped towards her bedside. Joy radiated from the horned demon's visage. The demon's gnarled claws skimmed along the edge of the young woman's blanket. The lesser demon lord fairly glowed with pride and pleasure of the accomplishment of one of his favored girls.
"D'Hoffryn?" the injured teen replied as she groggily attempted to rise to a sitting position. The emergency department had provided a pain shot a few hours ago but the effects were slowly fading. The room spun and Anya quickly stilled her motions. A miserable moan escaped her lips and her face contracted in obvious pain. It had been a long time since she had experienced this level of fragility. She was not enjoying the loss of demonic essence that came with the loss of her power source.
"Allow me to help, my dear," her visitor offered solicitously as he carefully dug through the edge of her blankets to find the bed adjustment control. He frowned as power seemed to hum along his skin and prickled unpleasantly until he was able to withdraw the lost controller from its hiding place tucked against her hip. With a press of his sharp tipped finger, the bed began to contract to allow Anya to sit more comfortably. She murmured a soft thank you as she carefully rearranged the blankets in her lap. She folded her hands and rested them against her covers before raising her eyes to meet the demon who had gifted her life with purpose.
"Did it work?" she inquired as her boss moved the visitor chair closer to the bed and took a seat. He assured her that the wish fulfillment was a true thing of beauty.
Anyanka's right hand moved unconsciously to her chest where her pendent used to rest. She flinched slightly as her fingertips brushed against the bandaged burn.
"My pendent was destroyed," she admitted hesitantly to the Vengeance lord.
"I suspected as much," D'Hoffryn simply replied. With a simple flick of his fingers, a new necklace with a shimmering green stone appeared in his previously empty hand. Slowly, he held the jewelry up in the dim light. A deep sadness shown deep in his eyes as he offered the powerful pendent to the very special girl.
As eagerly as she was able to move with her injuries, Anya reached for the trinket. Her fingertips barely brushed the gold encased stone when the rock shattered with a sharp crack like someone dropping a delicate crystal on the hard floor. The girl started at the unexpected destruction of the Vengeance stone. A fine green sand swirled in the air before some drifted to the floor and the rest settled on D'Hoffryn's robe. Dangling from his extended hand, the mutilated gold clasp swung on its now dull, tarnished chain.
"As I suspected," the Demon Lord grumbled as he flicked his hand and the sand disappeared along with the damaged chain.
Anya stared in horror as she realized what happened. Her eyes filled with the tears as her chest tightened with pain far worse than the burn on her skin.
"Give me another one," she uselessly demanded.
D'Hoffryn sighed but still flicked his fingers and pulled forth another pendent. This time, Anyanka grabbed at the swinging stone with speed and aggression. Before her hand could close on it, this one also shattered into sand.
"Again!" the desperate girl cried as the tears coursed down her cheeks and she struggled to sit up independently in the bed.
D'Hoffryn shook his head.
"No, I will waste no more power," he firmly stated. "I am sorry, Anyanka. It is not to be."
"No, no, no," Anya repeated as she fiercely wiped the tears from her cheeks. "This can't happen to me. I am a Vengeance demon. I... I... am good at being a Vengeance demon. It is what I do. I am Vengeance."
"You were a Vengeance demon, my dear," D'Hoffryn soothed as he reached for the distraught girl. Despite the personal discomfort that prickled in his hand when he touched her, the Demon Lord gently brushed his fingers through Anya's hair repeatedly as he offered her what solace he could. "You were the best one ever. You have left deserved destruction and pain in your wake. Your power was delicious. Even held to the constraint of doing no harm to the wisher, you have balanced the scales of Justice today like no other before you."
The demon reached forward to hold her chin and lifted Anya's face so that she was looking directly into his eyes. His hand burned from the contact but the demon held her in place to make his point. Unaware of the discomfort the touch caused her previous leader, Anya met his gaze.
"You were an incredible vengeance demon. You have granted justice on one touched by a True Power AND, quite unexpectedly, you have granted justice for slights over many millennia on behalf of every Slayer ever called. One wish. Two legacies. It is truly unprecedented. You will be revered in Arashmaharr forever."
"But I'm human!" the distraught girl cried in terror as she pulled free from D'Hoffryn's grasp. "I'm human and I hurt and I'm going to get old and wrinkly and die. Die a human in a stinky old house filled with money grubbing children who are counting the minutes until I croak so they can steal all my stuff!
"It's not fair!" wailed the injured teen. Her hands beat uselessly against the edge of her mattress. "I wish I had never taken your stupid assignment!"
D'Hoffryn scowled but then a temporary light lit his eyes.
"Wish granted."
The two stared at each other for a moment. The light died in D'Hoffryn's eyes.
"Nothing happened," Anya whispered.
"Brilliant observation, child," scorned the Demon Lord with a growl. His eyes narrowed and he demanded that she wish to feel better. The confused girl instantly repeated the wish. Nothing happened after D'Hoffryn attempted to fulfill that wish too.
Angered at the thwarting of his power, the Demon Lord clapped his hand once and another vengeance demon instantly appeared in the hospital room. Once again, he ordered the injured girl to wish. This time, the new demon attempted to fulfill the request. Again, it failed. The Demon Lord sent the underling away with a disgusted growl and a flick of his hand that propelled the lesser being back to Arashmaharr before she could blink.
Raising his right hand, D'Hoffryn murmured a short incantation in a language unknown to modern man and a green bubble appeared around Anya's bed. He held out his left hand. He ordered the bedridden girl to reach for him. Anya fully expected for her hand to hit the shimmering green protective shield and to receive a mild zap of magical sting. Instead, her hand passed harmlessly through the bubble and she easily grasped the offered hand. In fact, the magical bubble pealed away from her touch and slowly collapsed in on itself until it disappeared completely despite the caster's continued efforts to hold the barrier in place. Shaken by the magical effort, D'Hoffryn stepped back from the uncomfortable touch of his former shining star.
"Astonishing, my dear," the demon stated as he shook his head in amazement. It appeared as though magic no longer had any affect on his precious girl.
Anya just appeared confused. Too many worries and concerns were piling on her mind all at one time. She began to breath a bit rapidly. Her fierce will raised its head and she attempted to get control of her raging emotions. She centered her emotions with a maturity learned over a millennium. Although she was awash in a sea of confusing human emotions and pain, the former demon did her best to rally.
"Ok... there has to be something we can do about this," she stated as she fluttered her hands nervously. She took a couple deep breaths as she muttered about how she should have known better than taking any special project assignments. She was as bad as the idiot demon in 1091 who was caught in her own tornado created vengeance backlash while doing a special project in London, England. Granted, she did destroy the then wooden London Bridge like she was supposed to do but she killed both herself and her intended target in the ensuing whirlwind of unfettered magic. Anya shook away her disgust at the long dead demon. She needed to focus on her present issues. Because she felt completely out of control of her life, she decided to organize herself and the situation as best she could.
"So vengeance wishes don't work on me," she started.
"It would appear."
"And regular magic doesn't work on me."
"Well, black magic."
The lesser demon stared intently at the already calmer girl. He winced.
"Also demon magic, it would appear," he added as he rubbed at his now pounding head.
Anya's mouth fell open and she screeched in horror.
"You just tried to incinerate me!" she accused.
D'Hoffryn shrugged slightly.
"You're still alive," he replied as if that made his attempt to burn her from the inside to the outside perfectly fine.
Anya huffed in annoyance before blowing her disheveled hair from out of her face. She wondered aloud if white magic would have any affect. Her companion shrugged and suggested that she investigate the strange magic reactions when she had the chance. He then moved the guest chair back to its original position and smiled at the unhappy teen laying dejectedly in the hospital bed.
"I will do what I can to assist you, my dear," he promised with a quick pat on her arm. He took a step back from the bed. "Try to enjoy your new life as a human. I am gloriously proud of you, Anyanka. Always remember that."
D'Hoffryn flung his arms into the air and popped from the room with a simple flash of green light. His soft and unexpected apology whispered softly into the now empty space. For a moment, she marveled over the comfort the lesser demon had attempted to offer her. It only made her feel worse.
Silently, Anya used the controller to lower the back of the bed. She rolled onto her side and pulled one of the two pillows against her chest. Curling around the soft padding, the once thousand year old powerful demon who had been reduced to an emotional and lost seventeen year old did the only thing left to her. She cried.
"Are you sure about this, Pet?" Spike questioned his shaking lover as he stepped from the dimly lit utility corridor and into the brick-lined tunnel to the Master's lair. He cradled his maker in his arms like a princess so that she did not need to waste the energy of walking. Despite his continuous care, Drusilla was still exhausted. Spike had brought her a number of small time magic users for her consumption since their arrival on the Hellmouth but all their blood had done was slow the progression of her illness. Her condition continued to deteriorate at an alarming rate and Spike feared that if her cure was not found soon that he would lose her. Silently, he raged against the thought. He could not imagine life without his precious one.
Drusilla rested her pounding head against her knight's shoulder and murmured her assurance that their grandfather would be expecting them to share her news. She understood how upset he was that she insisted that they visit the Master, but the voices called to her so strongly. She knew that they had to be answered properly. Dru hoped that one day her Spike would understand all the swirling pictures in her head. Since their most recent stay in Italy, the chaos in her mind had only increased. The voices were so conflicting and confusing even for her already disturbed mind. It was like she was wading through many different possible paths of realities and the Choices were becoming so much more difficult for her to understand. All she could do was follow the most recent one and hope it led where she wanted to go.
Unable to convince the weak vampire otherwise, Spike accepted her wishes and carried his Sire the rest of the distance into the sunken church. He called a sharp greeting to the Master that in no way could have been construed as respectable. Unlike her escort, Drusilla smiled and waved happily to her trapped ancestor.
The ancient predator shifted in his chair and glared at the two new arrivals. He was not happy with the current situation but until more minions were created or more relatives arrived, he was forced to accept what help was even grudgingly offered to him. It rankled his every nerve to be beholden to those he considered beneath him. His yellow eyes narrowed as he noticed the fading black eyes that the dark coated younger vamp sported. The Master snorted. Something had been showing the arrogant young buck his proper place. He hoped it had been a particularly painful lesson although the old vampire feared it most likely would do no good. The Master anticipated that it would take more than a mere beating to properly cow William the Bloody. Acting like a concerned family member, he inquired after the injury.
"Walked into a door," William fabricated quickly as his flimsy excuse. For some reason, he felt reluctant to reveal the existence of the fierce warrior to the trapped Master. Whoever or whatever she truly was, Spike did not want her to become an advantage on his elder's side of their subtle but all too real battle for prominence. The blonde vampire hoped to be long gone from this foul town long before the Master achieved his release.
The Master roared with laughter which echoed through the rocky chamber. Dru's soft and sultry chuckle joined with the braying sound.
"You are a lousy liar, Boy," the ancient vampire charged.
"But I look good doing it," evenly returned the younger vamp.
"I am not amused," snarled the Master as he stood and moved towards the edge of his mystical prison. His path was drawn short of where his two visitors stood. It frustrated the Aurelian elder to no end that his opponent was so conscious of remaining outside his reach. If anything, the Master believed that his irreverent grandchilde went out of his way to move as close to his prison barrier as possible while still remaining out of reach. The Order Head looked forward to the time he escaped his prison and could wrap his claws around the young demon's neck. Teaching him his proper place would be like the special dessert on the celebrated feast of his release.
"Not here for your pleasure, old man. I'm just here for her."
"I know, and you have your uses," conceded the Master. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Just make sure that your usefulness does not fall below your lack of amusement. You would not like the consequences."
Both vampires stared at each other for a moment as if weighting the benefits of continuing their association. Seemingly unaware of the building tension between her family members, Drusilla broke the silent battle with a childish voice.
"William tripped on the sunlight and broke his little nose-y," sang Drusilla as she reached up and painfully tweaked Spike's only partially healed nose.
"Dru!" snapped the blonde when his vision blurred momentarily with pain from the unexpected twist. Spike did not want their trapped ancestor to read any weakness in him because he feared the possible consequences. He was playing a dangerous game with the head of the Aurelians and he new a misstep could lead to both their deaths. It was a thrilling game and one he planned to win. Spike could not afford to have Drusilla upsetting some of his pieces.
His lover began to whimper and shake from her position in his arms. She shoved at his chest and cried as if he had badly injured her. He sighed. Ignoring their audience, Spike gently set Dru on her feet and pulled her into a loose embrace. He whispered soothing words into her ear and made sweet promises for later. Almost as quickly as it started, the dark haired vampire ceased her crying. Her motions stilled and she tilted her head just slightly to the side as she stared lucidly into her companion's expressive eyes. For the first time in ages, Spike recognized true awareness in his partner's gaze. He smiled in return. Dru offered him a secret wink.
"Mummy has a story for Grandfather," she stated in such a calm manner that it was hard to imagine that her last utterance was filled with agony and distress. She patted Spike's chest a few time before turning to her other family member. Mirroring a dutiful subject, Dru offered the Master a slight curtsy and a reverent smile. The Master smiled for her as he considered that perhaps this one had potential to be more than just a tool for seeing the future. The elder vamp bowed regally in return and offered the willowy female his most indulgent smile. Drusilla clapped her hands happily and promised he would like at least the end of her story. She then began recite the tale so vividly painted in her earlier vision. The weakened vampire spoke of the night the Master should have escaped his cursed prison. She described the child vampire sent to lead the Slayer to her proper doom. She explained how the pretty blonde all dressed for a party had staked the Anointed One and then purposefully set out to confront his leader. She spoke of the human predators encountered in the alley and the Slayer's death.
"It was the naughty boys that ruined your rising, Grandfather," Dru claimed with a nod. "the naughty boys with their worship of the worm. They waited in the dark and took your offering for their own. Her innocence became his token instead of her blood your release."
The Master's eyes narrowed in hatred at the thought that his escape had been prevented by a group of mere mortal boys. He was not seeing the promised happiness in the tale.
"Do you know where these worshipers of the worm are, Childe?"
Drusilla nodded.
"Ah, and you would offer me this prize to end your tale?" The Master asked and was offered yet another enthusiastic nod. "Will you see they are properly punished for their blaspheme?"
Drusilla shifted visage until her eyes glowed yellow. She growled and snapped her jaws.
"Punishing naughty boys is what Tiggers do best," giggled the swaying vampire before she began to hum the melody to Deep in the Hundred Acre Woods.
Spike's arms wrapped protectively around Drusilla's shivering body and he pulled her back against his strength.
"We'll punish them for you," William promised as he backed gently towards the tunnel.
"You do that, Boy," the Master charged as he jealously watched his guests' slow retreat. His eyes narrowed dangerously and he snarled. "And send round your little egghead," he demanded. "I wish to hear of his progress on my release."
Reflexively, Spike swallowed as he nodded his head and reminded himself to make Dalton spend at least a little time researching the Master's imprisonment instead of dedicating all of it to Dru's cure. In a hurry to escape before the ancient vampire made any more dangerous demands, Spike swept Drusilla into his arms and strode quickly away. Her soft humming whispered in the darkness with them. If they hurried, he would just have time to grab a quick bite for him and his princess before seeking shelter for the day. Tomorrow night would be soon enough for the promised punishment fun.
Lawson pushed back his chair and rubbed at his tired eyes. The weight of the sun dragged at his shoulders, and he rolled his neck to release some of the stored tension. His dark eyes sought the gaze of his beautiful companion. He had imagined they were creatures of shadow and moonlight much like himself. He wondered if the fae felt any effects from the bright noon sun. Even though the window shades and curtains had been drawn in his townhouse, Sam still felt the deep desire to rest until nightfall. Ignoring his body's request in favor of the many questions buzzing in his mind, he decided it was time for answers.
"So do you have an overdeveloped love for excessive information or are you planning a world war?"
A spark of amusement flashed in his companion's brilliant green eyes. One side of her mouth quirked ever so slightly into a smirk. It was breathtaking even without the need for oxygen and awoke other part of Sam's body that were no longer interested in sleep.
"Not exactly a war. More like a precision campaign against a morally bankrupt foe."
"Good. I've already been in one world war and that didn't end so well for me," Lawson drawled as he once more pulled the largest blueprint towards his spot at the table. He tried to focus his thoughts so that his wayward body would behave enough for him to get everything straight. His forefinger tapped on the intricate schematic. "So, your enemy is someone in the Watcher's Council?"
"Not someone, the Council as a unit."
Lawson pushed himself a bit away from the table but remained seated. He considered the wealth of information before him. There were schematics of the Council's main headquarters building and the surrounding public works. There were profiles of prominent and not so prominent members of the organization both in London and around the world. There were staggering numbers of listed potentials and their keepers as well as resources or organizations such as the Devon Coven that dealt closely with the Council. Pages of foreign assets, bank numbers and passwords spoke of possible financial inroads. There were even details of the delivery schedule for who supplied the Watcher's their tea and biscuits for their break room. It was an impressive collection obviously amassed with extended research.
"You are planning on declaring war on the Watcher's Council? You have a short death wish or what?"
The Leanhaun Shee rose regally from her perch across the table. This time, her eyes flashed with something far darker than amusement. She paced like a caged animal in the small space between the table and the kitchen island that served as an informal division between dining and cooking areas. Gone was the sultry movements of a seductress. In her place was a jagged being of uncontrolled fury. Her jerking movements accented her harsh words. Her rant dripped with venom and disdain for the group of men she saw as the end of her race.
"The Council has already been at war with us. They wish nothing but annihilation of all things not human and unlike their useless drive to see the world free of demon kind, they have almost succeeded in destroying my kind. You," the fae grumbled as she flicked her hand towards the silent vampire "can create more of yourselves with reckless abandon. The Council can kill thousands of you but still more will rise the next night."
"We do not have this luxury," the beauty raged. "Even if they now kill only one of us in a century, we cannot counter the death. For many of us, there are no more of a like kind. No hope of another generation."
Sam's crossed his arms over his chest.
"This is more than you fighting on behalf of dying fae," the vampire calmly observed. "This is a personal war for you."
"The Slayer killed my daughter," the fae bit out.
"So kill the Slayer," Sam countered. He waved his hand over the accumulated mess on his table. "Don't embark on a suicide mission against a superior force. All that gets you is dead."
His companion stopped pacing. She leaned her hands onto the table and stared at the vampire as she informed him that the Slayer who killed her daughter had been dead for almost a century. Lawson's eyebrows rose in surprise. He asked her if that was not a fitting end to the issue.
"You do not shred the discarded skin of an asp and feel safe. You lop off its head and burn its remains to ensure it can never again bite. Slayers are but a weapon. They do not deserve blame for their actions. They are the tool used by the Council. Remove the Council's influence and the Slayer becomes just a girl with a stake. Perhaps still a threat for your kind but no longer a death toll for the few remaining fae."
Sam silently considered the thought then nodded in understanding. He wasn't sure if he agreed with the over all argument but he could concede its validity in this instance.
"So what do you want with me?"
The fae smiled and a shudder flickered up Sam's spine. Her smile promised a darkness filled with blood and screaming and pleasured release all rolled into one arousing package.
"I had a vision, Sam Lawson. A clear and concise telling. The first one I have had in centuries for the talent had been gifted to my daughter on her birth. The time has finally come for Justice to be served. You will supply me the technical knowledge my campaign requires. Your art is in the mechanics and trappings of war. I have a few friends who have helped me secure my information and the will offer their aid if needed. I would also hope that you can supply additional muscle if needed."
Lawson nodded then smiled. He uncrossed his arms and laid his hands flat on the table.
"And what do I get out of this deal?"
"My vision showed that you desired a purpose. A mission. I offer you one."
"And what if I want a bit more?"
"I am open to negotiations," the fae purred with a promising grin.
An answering grin of excitement spread on Sam's face at the sultry promise in his companion's look. Having a purpose was something he desperately needed. He was adrift and unfulfilled. He hoped that this campaign might restore something that had been missing from his unlife. Lawson rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Having a beautiful woman as company in the bargain just sweetened the deal even more.
"Any other questions before we find someplace more comfortable to discuss further negotiations?"
"Just one," Sam replied as he rose from his chair and offered his arm to his new partner. The beauty moved around the table and placed her pale hand on his forearm. He could feel the warm pulse of her body's heat through his shirt. "What's your name?"
Musical laughter filled the kitchen for a moment. A faint glow of power skimmed along the fae's skin and tickled Sam with a long forgotten tingle. It was a warmth that he had failed to remember in his years as a vampire. Fleetingly, he wondered if the unexpected sensation could burn him if held too long.
"Eubha," the fae replied with a giddy giggle.
"Pleasure to meet you, Eubha," the vampire replied honestly.
"The pleasure is all mine," the fae returned as she wet her lips with her tongue and propelled her companion towards the stairway to his upper floors. With each step she took, her figure shifted slightly. Her limbs grew more willowy and her hair flowed down to brush along the floor. Her long tresses glimmered from the simple brunette to a brilliant black that shimmered with other colors. As is changed, it reminded the vampire of the feathers of a raven.
"It better be mutual," growled Lawson as he too slipped his human guise and yellow eyes clashed with green ones.
Eubha chuckled and pulled her vampire up the steps.
"Don't worry, Sam Lawson, it will be."