When Anya finally reached the Magic Box and attempted to slam the door, she realized that Tara was right behind her.
"Just leave, Tara. I know you're only here to yell at me just like your precious Willow. Whoo hoo, be happy since you two are apparently again the happiest couple on Earth since one of you isn't dead or because one of you didn't leave the other at the alter, not that you could do that since I don't think gay marriages are legal in the state of California!" Anya snapped.
"Anya- I'm not going to yell at you.. I just want to help." Tara tried explaining.
"Oh, yes. Tara- the peacemaker, Tara-the once who understands everyone's problems. Then tell me something, Tara, who do you think was responsible for Xander's death? Me, right? Me, because I wished he was dead?"
"No," Tara stated, "No, I don't blame you. Warren was the one who had the gun. Warren was the one who pulled the trigger. Warren was the one who shot Xander. Not you, Anya. You didn't shoot Xander. Warren did. at this input of Tara's, Anya stared at her.
"Warren did this? Not some demon or vampire or random drive-by shooting? Warren killed Xander?" " And with those last two words, killed Xander, Anya started crying and ran out the stupid magic shop door. Tara felt as if she should run after her, but she knew Anya would probably want to be alone. So she just sat down on a chair, the one by the round, black and white checkered table- uh, eww. After what Willow had reported to Tara about Spike and Anya, she jumped up and away from the table and instead started to study the black arts books blankly. A large, fat, red-marker "NOT FOR SALE" sign was taped to the glass case- which was open. Wide open, and three spaces were gaping empty. Crap. She had though Anya's jacket seemed slightly bulky when she ran out the door. But, when did she have the time? Tara didn't wonder about that right now and took off for Anya's apartment.
Back at the apartment, Anya sat down on the floor and dropped the three books she had hidden in her jacket across the rug. It was all too easy to snatch them from the table, where she had been reading them earlier that day. Tara had been as blank as a sheet of paper. She had an idea, although she wasn't sure if it would work or not. Anya opened up the first book and put her hands to the page, thinking of just soaking up all of the words and information. It seemed to work, because she had a sudden surge of power, breaking a vase that she was just looking at. She did the same with the next two books, and felt like balls of energy were just running up and down her arms, cleaning out all the good she had left. With her new completely evil mind, Anya conjured up a locator spell, human rat skuzz variety, and with no effort found Warren. He seemed to be hiding out in woods near the edge of own, probably running from the revenge of all of Xander's friends. And ex-fiancées. Anya realized how far the woods are, but it also suddenly dawned on her that she could teleport. If her stupid brain had thought of that before, maybe she could have saved Xander. But that wasn't what she had to think about right now. Right now, she needed to think about how to torture Warren.
When Anya teleported herself to the forest, she found that she didn't have to waste her effort on looking for Warren because he was about sixty feet away from her, leaning against a tree. She crept slowly up to him, and how she was able to make no sound with all of the limbs and dead leaves surrounding her she was clueless to- but she continued. When she was about two feet away from him, she waved her finger at the sagging, lifeless branch hanging above his head. As Anya ticked her finger up and down, the could see a slow crack forming in the branch, creeping across it like a web. And finally, when Anya decided that it was taking too long, she ripped her hand across the air and finished the crack. The tree groaned in protest as the branch came crashing down, narrowly missing the completely oblivious Warren.
"What the hell?" Warren screamed, and took a gulp as Anya stood there, glaring at him. "Oh, man. Yo- Anya- I totally did not expect to see you here. I thought you didn't care about Buffy or her gang. Only about money and that stupid Xander."
"Well, Warren, you shot and killed that "stupid Xander" so, you could run or you could just let me kill you.." Anya snapped at the man, taking a step forward. An intimidated Warren took a step back.
"Oh shit, Anya, I totally did not mean to do that! I just meant to shoot Buffy, that's all. I swear." Warren claimed, still backing up. The look that was sprawled across his face was pure fear, his eyes wide, his mouth clamped shut.
"Don't care." Anya said simply, and flicked her hand up. Warren flew through the air and against a tree. Anya made him stay there by sending two nails she had in her pocket through the palms of his hands, pinning him to the tree. Warren screamed in pain, staring at his bloody hands in disbelief.
"My turn." Anya murmured, and pulled a sleek knife out from the inside of her coat. She walked slowly to Warren, dangling the gleaming knife in his face. He whimpered as she brought the tip of the knife to his forehead and pressed down hard, pulling the knife across his head slowly. Warren yelped as the blood from the cut began dripping down his face, and, as Anya had hoped, into his eyes. The fun was still to come, though. She stabbed him in the leg, just for fun, and left the knife there. Now, she raised her hand to the top of his head, just a centimeter above his hair, and shook her finger as if she was sprinkling dust all over his hair. She added the other hand, and with all her strength, flew both of her hands upward. Warren hollered insanely as his scalp ripped right off his head. And Anya laughed.
As Anya prepared for the next form of torture, she spotted Buffy and group running toward her. The stopped in their tracks when they spotted Warren, gaping at her.
"Oh my god. Anya-" Buffy started, but was interrupted.
"Watch," Anya whispered in an eerie voice, "This is the cool part." And she opened the palms of her clenched fists, and set Warren on fire.