Chapter seven

Dark side

It was with great trepidation that Anya returned home, clutching the Grimoire to her chest as she did. She kept thinking about the note from her mother, that was still in the spell book, while her heart continued to beat wildly in her chest from her run in with Kol.

Her mother had told her to stop everything she was doing. She had to stop looking for the stone and distance herself from Kol. She needed to not get involved with dark magic, and stay the good little witch she was.

But above all, she needed to let her brother die.

Anya shook her head, just thinking about it. No, she wouldn't let Connor die, no matter what her mother thought. She wouldn't heed any of her warnings, because, if she did, that would mean her brother's death. And that just wasn't an option.

But then she thought about this morning. Connor had pushed her to the ground because she stuck up for herself. He was getting more and more violent as the days passed, and was taking all his anger out on her. And that just wasn't acceptable.

If there was one positive outcome that came from her brief conversation with Kol, it was that the fire inside of Anya that had been snuffed out since Connor had been cursed was relit. And that fire made her refuse to be treated like trash.

And Connor had to know that.

Anya walked into their house, taking a deep breath. She placed the Grimoire on the kitchen table, before she called out to her brother. "Connor? You there?"

She heard a sigh come from the living room, before heavy footfalls came towards the kitchen. Connor crossed his arms over his chest as he approached his little sister.

"What do you want?" he asked her, clearly still bitter over that morning. Anya gritted her teeth in anger.

"I want you to know that I still plan on making sure this curse doesn't kill you," Anya said slowly, and he rolled his eyes at her like it was obvious.

"On one condition."

This caught Connor by surprise. "What?" he asked, eyes widening slightly.

"I'm going to help you on one condition, Connor," Anya repeated, raising an eyebrow at him.

His face flushed in anger, but Anya decided that she wouldn't let him scare her into submission anymore. "If you want my help, you need to apologize to me," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest.

He snorted. "For what?"

Anya gritted her teeth. How dare he?

"For treating me like complete shit ever since you've been cursed," she snarled, eyes darkening. "For bruising me." she yanked her sleeve up roughly to reveal bruises in varying stages of healing. "All when I've only tried to help you."

Connor pursed his lips but didn't respond. She glared at him. "I swear to God, Connor, if you don't apologize to me, I will walk out that door and I'll never come back."

He sighed heavily, clearly frustrated with her. "Why is this so important to you, Anya? Why are you making me do this now?" he asked her.

"Because if I'm going to do this, if I'm going to use black magic for you, I need to know that I'm doing it for someone who appreciates me," she said quietly. "So please, just say you're sorry, Connor. Or I'm leaving and you can find some other witch to break the curse."

He sighed again. "Alright, alright," he muttered. "I'm… sorry."

It wasn't the best apology in the world, and Anya doubted that he really meant it. But she knew she couldn't walk out on him, no matter what he said. So, at that moment, his two word apology was enough.

"Alright then," she said with a nod. "Let's go break your curse."

~LIP~

Anya was curled up on the couch, her great aunt's Grimoire in her lap. Connor was sleeping- the curse had made him much more tired, draining him of energy quicker than before. They hadn't spoken since Connor's half assed apology, and Anya had spent the rest of the day searching for any spell that would slow down Connor's curse.

Lucky for her, Great Aunt Ida was completely insane.

Black magic covered the Grimoire's pages, curses and necromancy spells coming at Anya every time she turned a page. She didn't remember much of Aunt Ida, only that she had been crazy, driven mad by the same kind of magic Anya planned to use.

It was near the back of the book where Anya found the answer to her problems.

Written in thick black ink were the words 'Soothing The Undead.' She frowned as she glanced over the words that were written in Latin. She was, by no means, fluent in the dead language, but she knew enough to know that the spell was promising.

What the spell did was make a human's blood immune to the curse, and when the vampire drank the blood, it would slow down the curse every time. It wouldn't cure Connor, but it seemed like the answers to their prayers.

The only problem Anya could foresee was the effects the spell would have on the human's blood- her blood.

Still, if it meant Connor would be able to drink blood again, that it would start to heal him, how could she just ignore the spell with unknown side effects? She knew she had no other option.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Anya laid the spell book on the coffee table and made her way to Connor's bedroom. He was snoring loudly as she pushed the door open. "Connor?" she called softly. "Wake up."

Her brother groaned softly, but kept sleeping. She sighed and walked up to his bed. "Connor, you have to wake up," she said louder this time.

Connor growled and opened one eye. "What do you want, Anya?" he mumbled angrily.

"I found a spell, Connor," she told him, a small smile creeping to her lips despite herself. "It's going to slow down your curse. It's going to save your life."

~LIP~

"Do you know what you're doing, Anya?" Connor muttered as the two stood in a circle of candles. Anya had always drawn extra energy from the elements, and she knew she was going to need as much power as she could get to perform the spell.

"Yes, Connor," she said patiently, going over the spell one last time before taking a deep breath.

Once she did this, she would be crossing a huge line and entering a world of dark magic. And she was doing it all for her big brother.

Anya picked up a kitchen knife off of the coffee table and held it in her shaking hand. She closed her eyes and tried her best to calm down. When her hand stopped shaking, she wrapped her right hand around the blade, pressing her palm against it, then she quickly pulled the knife out of her hand.

She gasped in pain as the knife cut into her skin, blood already dripping down her hand. She watched Connor's veins darken under his eyes, as he tried to control his blood lust. She didn't bother looking at him, and instead focused on the spell.

"Cum magica maioribus, ut spiritus curarent sanguinem in venis a maledictiones praeterita et praesentia," she recited, feeling the magic rush through her veins almost instantly.

With a gasp of an unexpected burst of power, Anya placed her hand over her bleeding palm and closed her eyes. Around them, the flames of the candles suddenly burned bigger and brighter, bursting up in the air.

"Ut sanguine tuo sanare maledictus et curare inmortui," she continued, eyebrows furrowing at the amount of magic it took to perform the spell. She could feel blood dripping from her nose.

Connor watched his little sister, entranced by the show she was putting on. He had a hard time controlling his thirst, to stop himself from ripping into her throat. But he knew that if he dared interrupt her spell, he'd be as good as dead.

"Ut meum sanguinem esse purum magicis benedixit intra me a spiritibus veneficas transivimus," She chanted in a low voice. Her blood was getting warm in her veins, almost unbearably hot. She could practically feel the magic mixing with the thick crimson liquid, and it was a terrifying yet thrilling experience.

Anya took a deep breath, knowing that the last part of the spell would be the hardest on her. "Salvatorem meum sanguinem in me male damnati. Et spiritus invoco, ut tam obscura," she said loudly, opening her eyes.

Anya gasped loudly in pain, her blood suddenly burning hot. She tried not to scream out in pain, and looked down at her bleeding palm. She watched with wide eyes, transfixed, as the crimson blood turned ink black for one second, as the dark spell overtook her blood.

Connor's eyes widened as he watched the veins in his sister- especially in her arms and face- turn black with the blood and the spell running through them. Then Anya's normally green eyes turned completely black.

"What the hell," he cursed, alarmed by what was happening to her.

But then Connor blinked and Anya was completely back to normal.

Anya was breathing heavily as the flames of the candles returned to their normal size, and continued to flicker in the darkness. The blood in her veins that had been boiling seconds before had cooled down considerably. But Anya could swear her skin had blistered from the heat.

She looked down at her bloody palm. Her blood didn't look any different, it didn't feel any different. And for a split second, Anya was worried that the spell failed. Connor would never forgive her if she failed.

She pushed her sweaty hair out of her face and looked up at her brother. "Well then," she said. "Should we test to see if the spell worked?"

She raised her wrist to him. Connor didn't protest, he just grabbed his sister's arm roughly, before sinking his fangs into her skin.

She let out a gasp of pain, but bit her lip to stop from making any other sound. Connor swallowed a few gulps of blood before pulling away and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

He frowned, suddenly feeling a lot more energized. "I feel… better," he said slowly, Anya's blood still staining the corner of his mouth.

And when Connor kept her blood down, and, in fact, asked for more, Anya knew the spell had worked.

~LIP~

Anya was completely exhausted after performing the spell. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep until she was old enough to drink legally.

She let out a sigh as she trudged up the stairs. So far, during the past two hours, Anya hadn't experienced any negative side effects of the spell. But she knew it was too soon to tell. She couldn't help but hope that there wouldn't be any negative effects, though.

As she walked into her bedroom, Anya walked to her closet to pick out her pajamas. Her palm was all wrapped up and had stopped bleeding hours ago. She let out a yawn, knowing she was going to fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

"Anya Samantha Lewis. What have you done?"

Anya stiffened, eyes widening at the voice. She was sure she had imagined it. There was no way she had heard that voice. She was sure she would never be able to hear it again.

But when Anya slowly turned around, she was there. Laura Lewis, arms crossed, staring hard at her daughter.

The same Laura Lewis who was supposed to be dead.

~LIP~

A/N: thank you to: purpleXorchid, mindyrainbowpants, SkullKey4758, and UrieNanashi for reviewing!

Review!

~Abby :)