God, Andrew was so hot when he was like this. When he let all of his inhibitions go, when he arched his back against me like that, when he moaned like a starving man staring wide-eyed at a feast spread out in front of him. His head was thrown back, his eyes clenched shut, his long, pale throat exposed in a way that made me want to lower my head and nip his heated flesh with my teeth.
"No... You’re perfect."
I smirked down at him. "Yeah, I'm pretty hot, aren't I?"
The sound of my own zipper sounded deafening in my ears, and the feel of Andrew's shy hand slowly dragging it down was causing a slight rush of vertigo. My erection throbbed a little painfully against my jeans, but it was okay because soon there was going to be nakedness and then sex and everything was going to be perfect and mind-blowing and feel so good...
Riiiiiing!
The fucking doorbell.
With every fiber of my being, in that moment I cursed the person who'd invented the infernal device known as the doorbell. For a moment, I froze on top of Andrew, debating on whether or not to even get up. It was probably just a Jehovah's witness or a door-to-door salesman anyway, it was too early for Ma to be home and this was around the time of afternoon that they came calling.
"No thanks, we're Jews!" I yelled hopefully in the direction of the basement window, that led outside to the front door.
No such luck. The doorbell rang a few more times, and finally I pulled my slightly-sweaty self off of Andrew, groaning at the loss of friction against the heavy-feeling flesh between my thighs.
"Is anyone home?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Andrew, hold on a second."
Without even bothering to throw on any clothes, I climbed off of Andrew and stomped upstairs, my fists clenched. I was going to slaughter whoever the hell this was.
I flung open the front door, shirtless and with my jeans still unbuttoned and unzipped, my hair a mess.
...And standing there was this really hot chick. No, like a really hot blonde chick, like someone from a magazine or something.
Still.
"What?!" I growled rather viciously at her, glaring her down as I stood there, half-dressed and sex-disheveled.
"Oh sorry, were you sleeping?" I asked half-heartedly as I walked past him and into his house.
"So this is where you live. Nice place... where are all the computers and invisible-ray-guns?"
Warren just stood there looking confused,
"I'm Anya. You know, the one you saw having sex with Spike? On the table? Yes, well even though you killed two of my friends... I need some help. You see, I don't really have a place to stay, and I'm not really able to become a demon again right now and I'm feeling all vengeful, and I heard you were the one to go to if I wanted to hurt someone's feelings... or something."
It was all so perfect, going so well. Everything had fallen into place and now that I knew what was about to happen, it wasn't so so scary and I was ready (or I guess I better have been ready). Warren was there, and I was on his bed, and pants were being removed and doorbells were being rung...
Wait, what?
Warren froze on top of me. He hadn't gotten up to go to the door, but already the moment was ruined. He tried to yell something towards the front door of the house, but I guess whoever was at the door didn't want to leave because the doorbell kept ringing and Warren was leaving. He was leaving me. He was leaving me all hot and bothered and half-dressed on his bed to stomp up the stairs from the basement to answer the door.
I continued to lie there on the bed, trying to catch my breath as I waited to just hear the door slam on whomever it was that had interrupted us and then for Warren to come running back down the stairs to me... but there was no slam. Suddenly paranoia gripped my stomach. What if it was the police? What if they'd already figured out that Warren had shot Buffy and they were here to take him away from me?
I hopped off the bed, pulling up my pants as I ran up the stairs after Warren. I-if they wanted Warren, they'd have to just go through me first! I could... I could summon something to kil- er, to stop the police from... well, I guess it would kill them, but for Warren it was alright! Yes. If the police had come for Warren, I'd run back downstairs and summon us a demon to take out all of Sunnydale's "finest" and then Warren and I could go back to having hot passionate sex in his basement. Great.
Armed with my foolproof plan, I burst through the door from the basement and half ran, half slid across the kitchen floor to the doorway that looked out on the living room and front door to see...
That... that Anya girl that knew the slayer. She was in the house and Warren didn't look like he'd invited her. Wait, was she here because of Buffy? Did she come to, uh, hurt us or something? Because again, I could just run downstairs and summon a, uh... I don't know, something bad! I-I'd do it, too. Without any thought for her life! Just like Warren would do.
Of course, it then registered that perhaps bursting into the room half-dressed with bed hair and other, er, obvious signs of what we'd been doing downstairs wasn't the most subtle way to go about rescuing Warren.
"No. I was fucking." I answered the hot girl bluntly, watching almost in awe as she just stepped into my house and looked around.
"Do I know you?"
"So this is where you live. Nice place... where are all the computers and invisible-ray-guns?"
"In the basement. Can I fucking help you, lady?" I asked, my erection still tenting a bit but slowly going down. For this, I was glad.
"I'm Anya. You know, the one you saw having sex with Spike? On the table? Yes, well even though you killed two of my friends... I need some help. You see, I don't really have a place to stay, and I'm not really able to become a demon again right now and I'm feeling all vengeful, and I heard you were the one to go to if I wanted to hurt someone's feelings... or something."
The wheels in my heads started turning, but I tried not to show it. Anya. I remembered her now. She was one of the slayer's friends, in that pathetic little crew of hers. Of course, she didn't seem all that broken up that Buffy was dead, so they couldn't have been too close...
"Wait a minute. Did you just say that I killed two of your friends? Who else did I kill?"
My voice sounded more gleeful than it did horrified, but I stepped aside so that she could come more inside the house, closing the door behind her just as Andrew walked in.
"Uh, Warren? What's, uh... going on?"
"Shut up for a second, kitten. Anya, what did you just say? I killed two of your friends? Who else is dead?" I stared intently at her, locking my gaze with hers to make sure she wasn't lying. I was pretty good at picking up on that sort of thing.
There was a rushing in my chest, kind of like that same vertigo-esque sensation I'd felt when I'd been about to fuck Andrew. Two. I'd fucking killed two of the 'scoobies'. I was a God.
I held my breath, watching her and waiting for her answer.
I rolled my eyes, "Willow? Red head, really powerful witch. She probably was the most powerful wicca in this hemisphere..."
Wait... fucking? My eyes darted from Warren to... the other guy. Surely he must jest. Hot.
"Why do you care? They're dead anyway. Or do you get your little power trip off on shooting people... seems pretty boring to me. I prefer going for the hurt, you know, playing on human emotions rather then just firing a gun."
I broke the gaze with Warren,
"Listen, I could pay rent or something... I have a job, I'm just not really sure what's going to happen now that the most powerful witch and the slayer is dead."
He was relishing in this. I suppose I would be too, if I was still evil. I mean, I guess I am pretty evil for not caring as much as I should. But certainly I wouldn't shoot Buffy or Willow.
"All I want to do is hurt Xander." I stated bluntly. Even though he might be hurting over Willow and Buffy, his two best friends, he's left me. Ignored me, didn't even come to me for help.
"Willow? Red head, really powerful witch. She probably was the most powerful wicca in this hemisphere..."
I blinked, my head starting to spin. So Willow was dead. I'd never known her really, but I knew that she was Buffy's closest friend.
I felt a deep and intense stab of sadness as soon as I realized this. I would have loved to have been able to watch her die. To see her bloody corpse crumpling to the ground in that graceful, slow-motion arc, to recognize the understanding and appreciation of death's honest beauty as the ghost left her body...
My erection was starting to swell slightly again.
I would have loved to have seen the slayer's best friend helpless at my shot. Dying from my hand, her blood splattered across the walls. It would have been so sweetly aching, like the flame of a candle flickering out as you suddenly realize that the shape the wax has taken is ugly now. Nothing can compare to that last moment of a victim's life, their last breath, the last gasp of realization, watching the light flicker out in their eyes. It was incredibly, undeniably sweet. I could taste their deaths in the back of my throat, and it burned like when you swallowed hot chocolate too fast.
"Why do you care? They're dead anyway. Or do you get your little power trip off on shooting people..."
"Watch it, bitch." I said warningly, but then I paused. She was a little too blunt for a woman, in my proudly misogynistic opinion, but I wanted to hear what else she had to say.
"Seems pretty boring to me. I prefer going for the hurt, you know, playing on human emotions rather then just firing a gun."
"Yes well, all killers have their styles, I suppose. What do you want from me?"
"Listen, I could pay rent or something... I have a job, I'm just not really sure what's going to happen now that the most powerful witch and the slayer is dead. All I want to do is hurt Xander."
I watched her carefully, raising an eyebrow. "No rent needed, don't worry about that. Andrew and I are fucking rolling in money right now. And I have to admit, with the failure in human experimentation that I like to call Jonathan, we are looking for a new third member of our little Trio. Sit down."
I gestured to the couch, glancing over at Andrew. "You too, kitten. This concerns you too."
I sat down myself, in the big, overstuffed chair of Ma's that was facing the couch.
"What I do need to know, Anya...is exactly how much you can handle. You say you're here for revenge and you want in on our little organization, fine. But I refuse to deal with someone who's going to burst into fucking tears every time I need to shed some blood, you know? I need someone who can deal with a little of what the unenlightened of our society might refer to as 'monstrous'."
"You join us, and you'll have your revenge. But to survive the Trio, you need to have a slightly altered view of morality, get me? That was what ended Jonathan's career as a supervillain, and I'd be highly disappointed to have the same happen to such a seemingly promising killer such as yourself."
"What I do need to know, Anya...is exactly how much you can handle. You say you're here for revenge and you want in on our little organization, fine. But I refuse to deal with someone who's going to burst into fucking tears every time I need to shed some blood, you know? I need someone who can deal with a little of what the unenlightened of our society might refer to as 'monstrous'."
"You join us, and you'll have your revenge. But to survive the Trio, you need to have a slightly altered view of morality, get me? That was what ended Jonathan's career as a supervillain, and I'd be highly disappointed to have the same happen to such a seemingly promising killer such as yourself."
After he'd finished going off on his little rant. I covered my smile immediately,
"Excuse me, but do you have any idea who I am? Have you researched demons ever? Ever heard of one called Anyanka. Even if you have, let me give you a little refresher. She was a demon for over one thousand years, exacting vengeance on wronged women. She was one of the most powerful vengeance demons of her time, but then, circa 1998, a little gang of highschoolers and their special slayer friend turned her into a human. Yeah, that would be me. I think I would know a little more about being 'monstrous' and 'slightly altered views of mortality.' Count me in, and don't expect me crying on your or your girlfriend's," I said, gesturing toward Andrew, "shoulder anytime soon, got it? I think I can handle more than you or any current or has-been member of your 'trio' could ever imagine."
I was still feeling all kinds of awkward, but when Warren told me to shut up and sit down, I did so immediately. Anyone who knew Warren would be picking up on the don't-fuck-with-me vibes he was giving off. If Jonathan were here, he'd have backed himself up against a wall by now. But this Anya girl didn't seem to be using her spidey senses to pick up on this fact.
I crossed my legs a little self-consciously (though I couldn't really too much, since... uh, you know) as I listened to what Warren had to say. Yeah, killing... s-so we were going to be killing now? Like, actively? Like Joker at Barbara Gordan's door with a gun with that life-changing bullet? No, he meant more successful. So then, more like Vargas with Psylocke in X-Treme X-Men? I... I guess I could do that for Warren. The thought made my stomach kinda funny, but it felt that way after that thing with the body on the stairs a few weeks ago too. I got over that fine. Getting away with murder was kinda cool, after all. We would really be supervillains!
"Excuse me, but do you have any idea who I am? Have you researched demons ever? Ever heard of one called Anyanka. Even if you have, let me give you a little refresher. She was a demon for over one thousand years, exacting vengeance on wronged women. She was one of the most powerful vengeance demons of her time, but then, circa 1998, a little gang of high-schoolers and their special slayer friend turned her into a human. Yeah, that would be me. I think I would know a little more about being 'monstrous' and 'slightly altered views of mortality.'"
The wheels started to turn in my head. Hold on just one comic-pickin' second! This was the Anyanka? The... the one that killed men? Men who hurt women? Like, say, killing ex-girlfriends with a champagne bottle to the head? Oh no oh no oh no... I gave Warren a worried look, moving my eyes from Anya back to him to let him know that maybe this wasn't the best idea. Sure, she seemed to be human now, but how long would that last? What if she got her vengeance on again? What if she found out about Warren's outlook on women?
"Count me in, and don't expect me crying on your or your girlfriend's shoulder anytime soon, got it? I think I can handle more than you or any current or has-been member of your 'trio' could ever imagine."
"H-hey!"
Girlfriend?! Did she just call me Warren's girlfriend? Hah, I wish! I'm not a girl! Not even a little bit! I've got... uh, chest hair and man parts! And not once have I ever worn dresses or makeup, except maybe that one time with my Mom's lipstick, but that was during my experimentation years and no one knows about that! Girlfriend? Shows what she knows. Warren and I weren't dating, we were just... er...
Just getting all hot and sweaty in the basement together on Warren's bed.
But it's not like he'd been taking me out for dinner or a movie. No wining and dining here! I sat up straighter in my seat on the couch with my indignant face firmly in place as I glared at Anya. I kinda hoped that Warren might stick up for me. He did that a lot, and I love him for it.
My eyes narrowed at Anya as she finished her little self-important tirade about how great she was. I let her talk, and then I held up a hand.
"Think twice, woman. I'm already riding quite the killing high right now, it wouldn't take much for me to take you down right now."
My voice was calm in that warning sort of way that I used sometimes. That "Fuck-with-me-for-just-one-more-second-and-I'll-fucking-kill-you" voice.
"If there's going to be one ground rule that I set down right the fuck now, it's this; leave Andrew alone. Feel free to be his friend, to hang out with him, whatever. But so help me God, if I hear one word about you hurting him, his feelings or otherwise, or touching him in any way he doesn't like, then I will not hesitate to slit your fucking throat, Ms. 'All-powerful demon'. I don't give a living fuck who you think you are. This is my turf."
I turned my head to see whether or not Andrew wanted to say anymore, but instead he was just looking wounded. I felt a stab of murderous intent, but managed to quell it for the time being.
"If you're working with us, we all show each other some respect, understand?"
I slipped a protective arm around Andrew's shoulder, my index finger gently stroking his cheek. No one, and I meant no one, spoke to my kitten that way. If I had a red button, it was him. In more ways than one.
My mind drifted back to what we'd been doing in the basement for a moment, a little longingly. My erection had finally subsided, but I wouldn't have minded a good, long, triumphant fuck right about now.
I took a long, hard glance at Anya, wondering how exactly she felt about that. She was a hot one, no doubt. I'd always had a weakness for blondes, and this blonde had curves to make a man cry. As long as she learned her place, I figured I'd have no qualms about inviting her into our bedroom sometime for a romp. As long as Andrew agreed, of course.
Usually I wouldn't stand to being talked to like that, but considering that I wasn't a demon currently, and I wasn't exactly the strongest person, nor was I in any sort of place to insult the people who were willing to take me in. It took a lot to not 'wig out' at him, but I managed to say
"Fine," through gritted teeth.
"Consider yourselves respected. But you have to respect me too, even though word on the street is that you're not a big fan of women."
Yeah, like he would ever fully respect me, no matter what. Still, even as I tactless as I was said to be, I knew when I needed to stay in my place.
"Think twice, woman. I'm already riding quite the killing high right now, it wouldn't take much for me to take you down right now."
Just double-checking something here... it's really really horribly sick and twistedly wrong to get kinda maybe turned on when Warren says things like that, right?
Y-yeah, of course. Silly me, I knew that. Very wrong. Very bad.
"If there's going to be one ground rule that I set down right the fuck now, it's this; leave Andrew alone. Feel free to be his friend, to hang out with him, whatever. But so help me God, if I hear one word about you hurting him, his feelings or otherwise, or touching him in any way he doesn't like, then I will not hesitate to slit your fucking throat, Ms. 'All-powerful demon'. I don't give a living fuck who you think you are. This is my turf."
Ok, double-double-check this time... I shouldn't feel all warm and squishy when Warren threatens to kill someone who's mean to me, right? I mean, I shouldn't have the urge to go "awwww!" and go hug him, 'cause what he said is kinda serial-killer creepy... right?
Hah! Yeah, I knew that. I did... really.
What?
"If you're working with us, we all show each other some respect, understand?"
"Fine. Consider yourselves respected. But you have to respect me too, even though word on the street is that you're not a big fan of women."
Oh! Sorry, double-double-double checking again, but ah... I shouldn't feel all triumphant and "hah! So there!"-ish when this former vengeance demon that used to kill men for nearly a thousand years just shuts up and listens to Warren, right?
Or is it kind of ok?
Help me out here, I'm kinda shady on this one... can I feel a little triumphant? Excited even?
Warren was stroking my cheek now, and I sort of leaned into it, my eyes still glued on Anya. This... this could be cool. It was like with Katrina, except there wasn't any neural inhibitor used a-and there wasn't any champagne or French maid's uniform and Warren wasn't taking her off into a room alone...
Yet.
Maybe it wouldn't be so cool... stupid girls. Hmph, this is my indignant face.
"Consider yourselves respected. But you have to respect me too, even though word on the street is that you're not a big fan of women."
"Thank you." I said simply, leaning back against the couch pillows. "And no, I can't say that I am. Mainly because the majority of women in the world are catty, mindless, worthless and soul-sucking bitch whores who serve no purpose other than breeding stock. I look forward to finding out that you do not belong to that majority, Anya. Your decision to become one of the Trio is already a rather enormous indication of that, by the way."
I offered her a grin, feeling better now that Andrew's feelings didn't seem to be in any immediate danger of wounding.
"And let me add that once you do become one of the Trio, I'll definitely defend you with the same voracity that I did Andrew just now. We take care of each other. Us supervillains you know, gotta stick together."
It was funny now, though--now that I'd actually killed someone, taken a human life, two human lives, the idea of being a 'supervillain' seemed almost childish. Silly, even. When blood had spilled and landed on your hands, your whole view of the world changed. I didn't really care about being like Magneto or Darth Sidious anymore. I mean, they were still kickass cool, and personal heroes of mine, but now that I understood what it was to kill, I wanted more. I wanted to be better than them.
And I wanted to give Andrew and Anya the same gift. I wanted them to know that sweet rush of feeling the life slowly die out of someone in your arms, to feel a body go limp and lifeless at your hand.
"All right. Now that we have our new prospective member, let's talk plans. I've gotten rid of the Slayer and one of her most powerful friends, as well as having procured us money for a long time. The next issue at hand is getting our name out there. We need to pull off something big, something so impressive that people have to sit up and take notice. Take us seriously."
"I'm thinking an artifact heist, or maybe the kidnapping of a substantial citizen in Sunnydale. What do we think? Any suggestions?"
"And no, I can't say that I am. Mainly because the majority of women in the world are catty, mindless, worthless and soul-sucking bitch whores who serve no purpose other than breeding stock."
I raised my eyebrow at that, but found it in my best interest not to argue, I didn't want to be another bloody corpse on the path of Warren's murderous scheme.
"I look forward to finding out that you do not belong to that majority, Anya. Your decision to become one of the Trio is already a rather enormous indication of that, by the way."
"Yes well, I know where the real power is when I see it..."
"All right. Now that we have our new prospective member, let's talk plans. I've gotten rid of the Slayer and one of her most powerful friends, as well as having procured us money for a long time. The next issue at hand is getting our name out there. We need to pull off something big, something so impressive that people have to sit up and take notice. Take us seriously."
"I'm thinking an artifact heist, or maybe the kidnapping of a substantial citizen in Sunnydale. What do we think? Any suggestions?"
"Why don't we take Xander hostage?" I shrugged, trying to act non-chalant, "After all, he is the scoobies only other link and if we take him, maybe we could make a deal with the remaining scoobies. Maybe we could torture him for a while too..." I said, with a grin unknowingly spreading across my face...
(addicted_andrew under another username)andrew_unwellsJanuary 16 2005, 13:00:50 UTC
It's times like this that make me realize just how weird my life is. Ok, fade out, flashback time here, let's review today: I spend the night in a jail cell with Jonathan, who was up the whole time convinced that the guy next to us (who was totally in for parking tickets) was going to make him his butt-monkey. I was rescued when Warren kicked open the police station door in the best mood I'd ever seen him in, he kissed me and Jonathan before leaving the shorter one of us behind. We get back to his place where tells me that he actually killed the Slayer. He then proceeds to do all kinds of very-unstraight but still kinda nice things to me, only to be interrupted by Anya. She tells us she wants to be in with the trio. Then Warren and her start brain storming about what other crimes to commit, including torturing one of Anya's friends (who I'm pretty sure she was sleeping with, 'cause he got all mad after everyone saw Spike and Anya making like a bad porno... or, uh, a good porno... in the magic box).
You know, last year at this time I'd probably have been just playing Magic cards with Jonathan or something. So I'm either on crazy pills, or my life has taken one heck of a sharp turn to the left here.
"T-torture? You want to torture Xander? I-I mean, sure, he's... he's a real jerk sometimes, but I think Warren totally showed him up at the Bronze last night, right? Punched him so hard he flew right across the room! It was sooo cool. You shoulda been there."
I grinned widely at both of them, trying desperately to join in on this little talk of theirs. I didn't want to be left out of this one. Guys who got left out got left behind in jail cells, from what I could tell. And they totally didn't end up on Warren's bed.
"But... yeah, I-I guess torture could be... could be cool. S-so what, like Reservoir Dogs style torture? Or, uh, Ichi the Killer or House of 1000 Corpses torture? Or uh, like... Hellraiser kinda torture?"
I had to cringe at that last part. All of those movies scared me pretty bad (well, parts of Reservoir Dogs were funny and really cool, but that torture scene was creepy) but Hellraiser had Pinhead, and I still had nightmares about Pinhead. But I had to play it cool, or Warren might think I wasn't tough enough to stay with him, and then big stupid interrupting-cow-Anya would get Warren all to herself.
I thought for a moment. The idea appealed to me greatly. I'd never been fond of Xander, as little as I knew him. Back in high school he'd always struck me as not someone who was ostracized because of his intellect or geekiness, like Andrew and I, but someone who others preferred to avoid because he was frankly an idiot. One of those guys who probably insisted on trying to be all 'manly man', and drooled over Playboy magazines that he kept stashed in his locker between classes.
"Hmmm. I like it, Anya." I said thoughfully, as she continued.
"After all, he is the scoobies only other link and if we take him, maybe we could make a deal with the remaining scoobies. Maybe we could torture him for a while too..."
"Torture?" I raised an eyebrow at her, a grin spreading across my face. The girl had a taste for the bloodlust, it seemed. I liked that in a woman, a certain viciousness that us men often had trouble cultivating. Of course, men like me were superior.
"I could care less about negotiating with the scoobies, they fuck with us and I'll just kill them, pick them off one by one. They can't touch us anymore. But I like your torturing-Xander angle. That guy always kind of annoyed me. You knew him pretty well, right? What would you say his biggest fear is?"
"T-torture? You want to torture Xander? I-I mean, sure, he's... he's a real jerk sometimes, but I think Warren totally showed him up at the Bronze last night, right? Punched him so hard he flew right across the room! It was sooo cool. You shoulda been there."
"That I did, didn't I?" I smirked over at Andrew, knowing how much he'd enjoyed watching me beat the holy hell out of Xander at the Bronze. He hadn't even been able to withold his breathless comment of 'That was so hot' when he'd been standing there with Jonathan that night.
"But... yeah, I-I guess torture could be... could be cool. S-so what, like Reservoir Dogs style torture? Or, uh, Ichi the Killer or House of 1000 Corpses torture? Or uh, like... Hellraiser kinda torture?"
"Hmmm." I paused to think. "I've always been a fan of localized pain, concentrating on one of the recipient's most sensitive body parts and focusing all the pain infliction there. I'm thinking...ice picks and a lighter? Maybe some rock salt?"
Re: Bloodshed.anya_ankyankaJanuary 19 2005, 00:31:10 UTC
My stomach turned a little, I hadn't really realized what I had said about Xander, but I had to go with it. After all the emotional anguish he put me through, he deserves. It was almost like I was trying to convince myself, but I had to do it. This is the way that things were done... Xander had to know that what he did was wrong, he couldn't just do that to someone,
"Yes, well his fears...." I thought for a little. Obviously not breaking poor girls' hearts, "I think one of the big ones would have to be losing his loved ones, like his best friends, but then again he already just lost them."
Then it came to me. That one night, on Halloween, our first date. "Being alone. Being forgotten and being alone." I suppose if that really was his biggest fear, me actually working myself into the situation wouldn't really turn out well... but maybe... "Maybe if he was under the implication.. I mean the fact that I was completely over him, that might hurt a little. As for the ice picks and lighter? A touch of being overrated. Although I mainly dealt with vengeance through magicks, I found that for physical torture, sometimes just leaving a person locked up alone for a long period of time can hurt worse than any physical pain."
I started thinking about me torturing Xander. Maybe it would be fun. Even a little sexy, in a really twisted way....
"No... You’re perfect."
I smirked down at him. "Yeah, I'm pretty hot, aren't I?"
The sound of my own zipper sounded deafening in my ears, and the feel of Andrew's shy hand slowly dragging it down was causing a slight rush of vertigo. My erection throbbed a little painfully against my jeans, but it was okay because soon there was going to be nakedness and then sex and everything was going to be perfect and mind-blowing and feel so good...
Riiiiiing!
The fucking doorbell.
With every fiber of my being, in that moment I cursed the person who'd invented the infernal device known as the doorbell. For a moment, I froze on top of Andrew, debating on whether or not to even get up. It was probably just a Jehovah's witness or a door-to-door salesman anyway, it was too early for Ma to be home and this was around the time of afternoon that they came calling.
"No thanks, we're Jews!" I yelled hopefully in the direction of the basement window, that led outside to the front door.
No such luck. The doorbell rang a few more times, and finally I pulled my slightly-sweaty self off of Andrew, groaning at the loss of friction against the heavy-feeling flesh between my thighs.
"Is anyone home?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Andrew, hold on a second."
Without even bothering to throw on any clothes, I climbed off of Andrew and stomped upstairs, my fists clenched. I was going to slaughter whoever the hell this was.
I flung open the front door, shirtless and with my jeans still unbuttoned and unzipped, my hair a mess.
...And standing there was this really hot chick. No, like a really hot blonde chick, like someone from a magazine or something.
Still.
"What?!" I growled rather viciously at her, glaring her down as I stood there, half-dressed and sex-disheveled.
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"Oh sorry, were you sleeping?" I asked half-heartedly as I walked past him and into his house.
"So this is where you live. Nice place... where are all the computers and invisible-ray-guns?"
Warren just stood there looking confused,
"I'm Anya. You know, the one you saw having sex with Spike? On the table? Yes, well even though you killed two of my friends... I need some help. You see, I don't really have a place to stay, and I'm not really able to become a demon again right now and I'm feeling all vengeful, and I heard you were the one to go to if I wanted to hurt someone's feelings... or something."
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Wait, what?
Warren froze on top of me. He hadn't gotten up to go to the door, but already the moment was ruined. He tried to yell something towards the front door of the house, but I guess whoever was at the door didn't want to leave because the doorbell kept ringing and Warren was leaving. He was leaving me. He was leaving me all hot and bothered and half-dressed on his bed to stomp up the stairs from the basement to answer the door.
I continued to lie there on the bed, trying to catch my breath as I waited to just hear the door slam on whomever it was that had interrupted us and then for Warren to come running back down the stairs to me... but there was no slam. Suddenly paranoia gripped my stomach. What if it was the police? What if they'd already figured out that Warren had shot Buffy and they were here to take him away from me?
I hopped off the bed, pulling up my pants as I ran up the stairs after Warren. I-if they wanted Warren, they'd have to just go through me first! I could... I could summon something to kil- er, to stop the police from... well, I guess it would kill them, but for Warren it was alright! Yes. If the police had come for Warren, I'd run back downstairs and summon us a demon to take out all of Sunnydale's "finest" and then Warren and I could go back to having hot passionate sex in his basement. Great.
Armed with my foolproof plan, I burst through the door from the basement and half ran, half slid across the kitchen floor to the doorway that looked out on the living room and front door to see...
That... that Anya girl that knew the slayer. She was in the house and Warren didn't look like he'd invited her. Wait, was she here because of Buffy? Did she come to, uh, hurt us or something? Because again, I could just run downstairs and summon a, uh... I don't know, something bad! I-I'd do it, too. Without any thought for her life! Just like Warren would do.
Of course, it then registered that perhaps bursting into the room half-dressed with bed hair and other, er, obvious signs of what we'd been doing downstairs wasn't the most subtle way to go about rescuing Warren.
"Uh, Warren? What's, uh... going on?"
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"No. I was fucking." I answered the hot girl bluntly, watching almost in awe as she just stepped into my house and looked around.
"Do I know you?"
"So this is where you live. Nice place... where are all the computers and invisible-ray-guns?"
"In the basement. Can I fucking help you, lady?" I asked, my erection still tenting a bit but slowly going down. For this, I was glad.
"I'm Anya. You know, the one you saw having sex with Spike? On the table? Yes, well even though you killed two of my friends... I need some help. You see, I don't really have a place to stay, and I'm not really able to become a demon again right now and I'm feeling all vengeful, and I heard you were the one to go to if I wanted to hurt someone's feelings... or something."
The wheels in my heads started turning, but I tried not to show it. Anya. I remembered her now. She was one of the slayer's friends, in that pathetic little crew of hers. Of course, she didn't seem all that broken up that Buffy was dead, so they couldn't have been too close...
"Wait a minute. Did you just say that I killed two of your friends? Who else did I kill?"
My voice sounded more gleeful than it did horrified, but I stepped aside so that she could come more inside the house, closing the door behind her just as Andrew walked in.
"Uh, Warren? What's, uh... going on?"
"Shut up for a second, kitten. Anya, what did you just say? I killed two of your friends? Who else is dead?" I stared intently at her, locking my gaze with hers to make sure she wasn't lying. I was pretty good at picking up on that sort of thing.
There was a rushing in my chest, kind of like that same vertigo-esque sensation I'd felt when I'd been about to fuck Andrew. Two. I'd fucking killed two of the 'scoobies'. I was a God.
I held my breath, watching her and waiting for her answer.
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Wait... fucking? My eyes darted from Warren to... the other guy. Surely he must jest. Hot.
"Why do you care? They're dead anyway. Or do you get your little power trip off on shooting people... seems pretty boring to me. I prefer going for the hurt, you know, playing on human emotions rather then just firing a gun."
I broke the gaze with Warren,
"Listen, I could pay rent or something... I have a job, I'm just not really sure what's going to happen now that the most powerful witch and the slayer is dead."
He was relishing in this. I suppose I would be too, if I was still evil. I mean, I guess I am pretty evil for not caring as much as I should. But certainly I wouldn't shoot Buffy or Willow.
"All I want to do is hurt Xander." I stated bluntly. Even though he might be hurting over Willow and Buffy, his two best friends, he's left me. Ignored me, didn't even come to me for help.
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I blinked, my head starting to spin. So Willow was dead. I'd never known her really, but I knew that she was Buffy's closest friend.
I felt a deep and intense stab of sadness as soon as I realized this. I would have loved to have been able to watch her die. To see her bloody corpse crumpling to the ground in that graceful, slow-motion arc, to recognize the understanding and appreciation of death's honest beauty as the ghost left her body...
My erection was starting to swell slightly again.
I would have loved to have seen the slayer's best friend helpless at my shot. Dying from my hand, her blood splattered across the walls. It would have been so sweetly aching, like the flame of a candle flickering out as you suddenly realize that the shape the wax has taken is ugly now. Nothing can compare to that last moment of a victim's life, their last breath, the last gasp of realization, watching the light flicker out in their eyes. It was incredibly, undeniably sweet. I could taste their deaths in the back of my throat, and it burned like when you swallowed hot chocolate too fast.
"Why do you care? They're dead anyway. Or do you get your little power trip off on shooting people..."
"Watch it, bitch." I said warningly, but then I paused. She was a little too blunt for a woman, in my proudly misogynistic opinion, but I wanted to hear what else she had to say.
"Seems pretty boring to me. I prefer going for the hurt, you know, playing on human emotions rather then just firing a gun."
"Yes well, all killers have their styles, I suppose. What do you want from me?"
"Listen, I could pay rent or something... I have a job, I'm just not really sure what's going to happen now that the most powerful witch and the slayer is dead. All I want to do is hurt Xander."
I watched her carefully, raising an eyebrow. "No rent needed, don't worry about that. Andrew and I are fucking rolling in money right now. And I have to admit, with the failure in human experimentation that I like to call Jonathan, we are looking for a new third member of our little Trio. Sit down."
I gestured to the couch, glancing over at Andrew. "You too, kitten. This concerns you too."
I sat down myself, in the big, overstuffed chair of Ma's that was facing the couch.
"What I do need to know, Anya...is exactly how much you can handle. You say you're here for revenge and you want in on our little organization, fine. But I refuse to deal with someone who's going to burst into fucking tears every time I need to shed some blood, you know? I need someone who can deal with a little of what the unenlightened of our society might refer to as 'monstrous'."
"You join us, and you'll have your revenge. But to survive the Trio, you need to have a slightly altered view of morality, get me? That was what ended Jonathan's career as a supervillain, and I'd be highly disappointed to have the same happen to such a seemingly promising killer such as yourself."
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"What I do need to know, Anya...is exactly how much you can handle. You say you're here for revenge and you want in on our little organization, fine. But I refuse to deal with someone who's going to burst into fucking tears every time I need to shed some blood, you know? I need someone who can deal with a little of what the unenlightened of our society might refer to as 'monstrous'."
"You join us, and you'll have your revenge. But to survive the Trio, you need to have a slightly altered view of morality, get me? That was what ended Jonathan's career as a supervillain, and I'd be highly disappointed to have the same happen to such a seemingly promising killer such as yourself."
After he'd finished going off on his little rant. I covered my smile immediately,
"Excuse me, but do you have any idea who I am? Have you researched demons ever? Ever heard of one called Anyanka. Even if you have, let me give you a little refresher. She was a demon for over one thousand years, exacting vengeance on wronged women. She was one of the most powerful vengeance demons of her time, but then, circa 1998, a little gang of highschoolers and their special slayer friend turned her into a human. Yeah, that would be me. I think I would know a little more about being 'monstrous' and 'slightly altered views of mortality.' Count me in, and don't expect me crying on your or your girlfriend's," I said, gesturing toward Andrew, "shoulder anytime soon, got it? I think I can handle more than you or any current or has-been member of your 'trio' could ever imagine."
Suck on that!
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I crossed my legs a little self-consciously (though I couldn't really too much, since... uh, you know) as I listened to what Warren had to say. Yeah, killing... s-so we were going to be killing now? Like, actively? Like Joker at Barbara Gordan's door with a gun with that life-changing bullet? No, he meant more successful. So then, more like Vargas with Psylocke in X-Treme X-Men? I... I guess I could do that for Warren. The thought made my stomach kinda funny, but it felt that way after that thing with the body on the stairs a few weeks ago too. I got over that fine. Getting away with murder was kinda cool, after all. We would really be supervillains!
"Excuse me, but do you have any idea who I am? Have you researched demons ever? Ever heard of one called Anyanka. Even if you have, let me give you a little refresher. She was a demon for over one thousand years, exacting vengeance on wronged women. She was one of the most powerful vengeance demons of her time, but then, circa 1998, a little gang of high-schoolers and their special slayer friend turned her into a human. Yeah, that would be me. I think I would know a little more about being 'monstrous' and 'slightly altered views of mortality.'"
The wheels started to turn in my head. Hold on just one comic-pickin' second! This was the Anyanka? The... the one that killed men? Men who hurt women? Like, say, killing ex-girlfriends with a champagne bottle to the head? Oh no oh no oh no... I gave Warren a worried look, moving my eyes from Anya back to him to let him know that maybe this wasn't the best idea. Sure, she seemed to be human now, but how long would that last? What if she got her vengeance on again? What if she found out about Warren's outlook on women?
"Count me in, and don't expect me crying on your or your girlfriend's shoulder anytime soon, got it? I think I can handle more than you or any current or has-been member of your 'trio' could ever imagine."
"H-hey!"
Girlfriend?! Did she just call me Warren's girlfriend? Hah, I wish! I'm not a girl! Not even a little bit! I've got... uh, chest hair and man parts! And not once have I ever worn dresses or makeup, except maybe that one time with my Mom's lipstick, but that was during my experimentation years and no one knows about that! Girlfriend? Shows what she knows. Warren and I weren't dating, we were just... er...
Just getting all hot and sweaty in the basement together on Warren's bed.
But it's not like he'd been taking me out for dinner or a movie. No wining and dining here! I sat up straighter in my seat on the couch with my indignant face firmly in place as I glared at Anya. I kinda hoped that Warren might stick up for me. He did that a lot, and I love him for it.
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"Think twice, woman. I'm already riding quite the killing high right now, it wouldn't take much for me to take you down right now."
My voice was calm in that warning sort of way that I used sometimes. That "Fuck-with-me-for-just-one-more-second-and-I'll-fucking-kill-you" voice.
"If there's going to be one ground rule that I set down right the fuck now, it's this; leave Andrew alone. Feel free to be his friend, to hang out with him, whatever. But so help me God, if I hear one word about you hurting him, his feelings or otherwise, or touching him in any way he doesn't like, then I will not hesitate to slit your fucking throat, Ms. 'All-powerful demon'. I don't give a living fuck who you think you are. This is my turf."
I turned my head to see whether or not Andrew wanted to say anymore, but instead he was just looking wounded. I felt a stab of murderous intent, but managed to quell it for the time being.
"If you're working with us, we all show each other some respect, understand?"
I slipped a protective arm around Andrew's shoulder, my index finger gently stroking his cheek. No one, and I meant no one, spoke to my kitten that way. If I had a red button, it was him. In more ways than one.
My mind drifted back to what we'd been doing in the basement for a moment, a little longingly. My erection had finally subsided, but I wouldn't have minded a good, long, triumphant fuck right about now.
I took a long, hard glance at Anya, wondering how exactly she felt about that. She was a hot one, no doubt. I'd always had a weakness for blondes, and this blonde had curves to make a man cry. As long as she learned her place, I figured I'd have no qualms about inviting her into our bedroom sometime for a romp. As long as Andrew agreed, of course.
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"Fine," through gritted teeth.
"Consider yourselves respected. But you have to respect me too, even though word on the street is that you're not a big fan of women."
Yeah, like he would ever fully respect me, no matter what. Still, even as I tactless as I was said to be, I knew when I needed to stay in my place.
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Just double-checking something here... it's really really horribly sick and twistedly wrong to get kinda maybe turned on when Warren says things like that, right?
Y-yeah, of course. Silly me, I knew that. Very wrong. Very bad.
"If there's going to be one ground rule that I set down right the fuck now, it's this; leave Andrew alone. Feel free to be his friend, to hang out with him, whatever. But so help me God, if I hear one word about you hurting him, his feelings or otherwise, or touching him in any way he doesn't like, then I will not hesitate to slit your fucking throat, Ms. 'All-powerful demon'. I don't give a living fuck who you think you are. This is my turf."
Ok, double-double-check this time... I shouldn't feel all warm and squishy when Warren threatens to kill someone who's mean to me, right? I mean, I shouldn't have the urge to go "awwww!" and go hug him, 'cause what he said is kinda serial-killer creepy... right?
Hah! Yeah, I knew that. I did... really.
What?
"If you're working with us, we all show each other some respect, understand?"
"Fine. Consider yourselves respected. But you have to respect me too, even though word on the street is that you're not a big fan of women."
Oh! Sorry, double-double-double checking again, but ah... I shouldn't feel all triumphant and "hah! So there!"-ish when this former vengeance demon that used to kill men for nearly a thousand years just shuts up and listens to Warren, right?
Or is it kind of ok?
Help me out here, I'm kinda shady on this one... can I feel a little triumphant? Excited even?
Warren was stroking my cheek now, and I sort of leaned into it, my eyes still glued on Anya. This... this could be cool. It was like with Katrina, except there wasn't any neural inhibitor used a-and there wasn't any champagne or French maid's uniform and Warren wasn't taking her off into a room alone...
Yet.
Maybe it wouldn't be so cool... stupid girls. Hmph, this is my indignant face.
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"Thank you." I said simply, leaning back against the couch pillows. "And no, I can't say that I am. Mainly because the majority of women in the world are catty, mindless, worthless and soul-sucking bitch whores who serve no purpose other than breeding stock. I look forward to finding out that you do not belong to that majority, Anya. Your decision to become one of the Trio is already a rather enormous indication of that, by the way."
I offered her a grin, feeling better now that Andrew's feelings didn't seem to be in any immediate danger of wounding.
"And let me add that once you do become one of the Trio, I'll definitely defend you with the same voracity that I did Andrew just now. We take care of each other. Us supervillains you know, gotta stick together."
It was funny now, though--now that I'd actually killed someone, taken a human life, two human lives, the idea of being a 'supervillain' seemed almost childish. Silly, even. When blood had spilled and landed on your hands, your whole view of the world changed. I didn't really care about being like Magneto or Darth Sidious anymore. I mean, they were still kickass cool, and personal heroes of mine, but now that I understood what it was to kill, I wanted more. I wanted to be better than them.
And I wanted to give Andrew and Anya the same gift. I wanted them to know that sweet rush of feeling the life slowly die out of someone in your arms, to feel a body go limp and lifeless at your hand.
"All right. Now that we have our new prospective member, let's talk plans. I've gotten rid of the Slayer and one of her most powerful friends, as well as having procured us money for a long time. The next issue at hand is getting our name out there. We need to pull off something big, something so impressive that people have to sit up and take notice. Take us seriously."
"I'm thinking an artifact heist, or maybe the kidnapping of a substantial citizen in Sunnydale. What do we think? Any suggestions?"
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I raised my eyebrow at that, but found it in my best interest not to argue, I didn't want to be another bloody corpse on the path of Warren's murderous scheme.
"I look forward to finding out that you do not belong to that majority, Anya. Your decision to become one of the Trio is already a rather enormous indication of that, by the way."
"Yes well, I know where the real power is when I see it..."
"All right. Now that we have our new prospective member, let's talk plans. I've gotten rid of the Slayer and one of her most powerful friends, as well as having procured us money for a long time. The next issue at hand is getting our name out there. We need to pull off something big, something so impressive that people have to sit up and take notice. Take us seriously."
"I'm thinking an artifact heist, or maybe the kidnapping of a substantial citizen in Sunnydale. What do we think? Any suggestions?"
"Why don't we take Xander hostage?" I shrugged, trying to act non-chalant, "After all, he is the scoobies only other link and if we take him, maybe we could make a deal with the remaining scoobies. Maybe we could torture him for a while too..." I said, with a grin unknowingly spreading across my face...
"But, uh... stealing something's good too."
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You know, last year at this time I'd probably have been just playing Magic cards with Jonathan or something. So I'm either on crazy pills, or my life has taken one heck of a sharp turn to the left here.
"T-torture? You want to torture Xander? I-I mean, sure, he's... he's a real jerk sometimes, but I think Warren totally showed him up at the Bronze last night, right? Punched him so hard he flew right across the room! It was sooo cool. You shoulda been there."
I grinned widely at both of them, trying desperately to join in on this little talk of theirs. I didn't want to be left out of this one. Guys who got left out got left behind in jail cells, from what I could tell. And they totally didn't end up on Warren's bed.
"But... yeah, I-I guess torture could be... could be cool. S-so what, like Reservoir Dogs style torture? Or, uh, Ichi the Killer or House of 1000 Corpses torture? Or uh, like... Hellraiser kinda torture?"
I had to cringe at that last part. All of those movies scared me pretty bad (well, parts of Reservoir Dogs were funny and really cool, but that torture scene was creepy) but Hellraiser had Pinhead, and I still had nightmares about Pinhead. But I had to play it cool, or Warren might think I wasn't tough enough to stay with him, and then big stupid interrupting-cow-Anya would get Warren all to herself.
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I thought for a moment. The idea appealed to me greatly. I'd never been fond of Xander, as little as I knew him. Back in high school he'd always struck me as not someone who was ostracized because of his intellect or geekiness, like Andrew and I, but someone who others preferred to avoid because he was frankly an idiot. One of those guys who probably insisted on trying to be all 'manly man', and drooled over Playboy magazines that he kept stashed in his locker between classes.
"Hmmm. I like it, Anya." I said thoughfully, as she continued.
"After all, he is the scoobies only other link and if we take him, maybe we could make a deal with the remaining scoobies. Maybe we could torture him for a while too..."
"Torture?" I raised an eyebrow at her, a grin spreading across my face. The girl had a taste for the bloodlust, it seemed. I liked that in a woman, a certain viciousness that us men often had trouble cultivating. Of course, men like me were superior.
"I could care less about negotiating with the scoobies, they fuck with us and I'll just kill them, pick them off one by one. They can't touch us anymore. But I like your torturing-Xander angle. That guy always kind of annoyed me. You knew him pretty well, right? What would you say his biggest fear is?"
"T-torture? You want to torture Xander? I-I mean, sure, he's... he's a real jerk sometimes, but I think Warren totally showed him up at the Bronze last night, right? Punched him so hard he flew right across the room! It was sooo cool. You shoulda been there."
"That I did, didn't I?" I smirked over at Andrew, knowing how much he'd enjoyed watching me beat the holy hell out of Xander at the Bronze. He hadn't even been able to withold his breathless comment of 'That was so hot' when he'd been standing there with Jonathan that night.
"But... yeah, I-I guess torture could be... could be cool. S-so what, like Reservoir Dogs style torture? Or, uh, Ichi the Killer or House of 1000 Corpses torture? Or uh, like... Hellraiser kinda torture?"
"Hmmm." I paused to think. "I've always been a fan of localized pain, concentrating on one of the recipient's most sensitive body parts and focusing all the pain infliction there. I'm thinking...ice picks and a lighter? Maybe some rock salt?"
I looked over at Anya.
"What do you think?"
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"Yes, well his fears...." I thought for a little. Obviously not breaking poor girls' hearts, "I think one of the big ones would have to be losing his loved ones, like his best friends, but then again he already just lost them."
Then it came to me. That one night, on Halloween, our first date. "Being alone. Being forgotten and being alone." I suppose if that really was his biggest fear, me actually working myself into the situation wouldn't really turn out well... but maybe... "Maybe if he was under the implication.. I mean the fact that I was completely over him, that might hurt a little. As for the ice picks and lighter? A touch of being overrated. Although I mainly dealt with vengeance through magicks, I found that for physical torture, sometimes just leaving a person locked up alone for a long period of time can hurt worse than any physical pain."
I started thinking about me torturing Xander. Maybe it would be fun. Even a little sexy, in a really twisted way....
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