Seeing Red
Fandom: BUFFY/ANGEL
Title: Seeing Red
Author: 50thousandtearz
Pairing/Character: Anya
Word Count: 650 words
Rating: PG
Summary: All Anya sees is red.
Spoilers/Warnings: Chosen
Author's Note: Repost of an older fic.
All Anya sees is red. Red is the color of tasty apples, the color of a lovely sunset, the color of Giles’ shiny new car, the color of her lingerie that Xander used to adore. Even though she liked seeing green more, she loved red. It was such a happy, cheerful color that lit up her world and made it pretty.
But Anya doesn’t think red is so pretty anymore. Red is also the color of her toenails when she was killed, the color of blood smeared over her friends’ faces, the color of hate and rage, the color that fills her vision as she fades away.
It can never be a good happy color again.
Not surprisingly, Anya is met in Hell by a woman wearing a red dress. Still disoriented from the battle, she ignores the woman’s outstretched hand.
“Lilah Morgan, Wolfram and Hart. You must be Anyanka.”
“Anya,” she says, staring out of a dark window across from her. It looks hot outside, with spots of bright flames and boiling pits.
“A pleasure to meet you,” says Lilah.
“How’s the battle going?” asks Anya. “Do you know anything?”
Lilah shrugs. “Not so well, although I have something interesting for you.” She holds out some papers and starts to talk about deals, devils and what Wolfram and Hart can do for her.
Anya’s not listening to her. She’s listening to the howling wind, the faraway screams that float by her and carry bits and pieces of her sanity away. She’s looking at this new environment of pain and torture and vaguely thinks that she’s changed a lot; Anyanka would’ve gotten a kick out of this place, seeing so many people get the revenge they deserved.
But she, Anya, doesn’t. She’s become sensitized to the range of human emotions. She’s abandoned her roots and joined the good side. She’s helped people and made friends. She’s become human. She doesn’t like this place at all.
She turns to Lilah and interrupts her sales pitch.
“I helped save the world. Don’t I get some kind of reward?”
Lilah laughs, a cold, kind of sophisticated sort of laugh. “You were a vengeance demon for centuries, killing and disemboweling men. Do you really think helping once would save your dirty soul?”
Anya looks over Lilah’s shoulder as she speaks, letting her words fade into the background. Through the window, she can see tall flames shoot up towards the night sky. Then suddenly, she hears thousands of screams, frightened and loud; sounds that seem to herald the worst disaster that could possibly happen.
“Hear that? I think that was the end of the good fight,” says Lilah.
Hot, red anger rushes through Anya’s veins, the first real emotion she’s felt since arriving in Hell.
“Are you sure?” she snaps.
“Very,” says Lilah. She looks through her papers. “I’ve taken the liberty of researching your colleagues. None of them will be joining you here.” She looks up and briefly smiles. “None of them were as bad as you, I guess.”
She is alone. Not only have they failed to win the battle that cost her life, they’ve made sure that she’ll go through a lonesome existence in Hell. The fear fades away and is replaced by sadness. There’s no point in fighting for good now; this is her place.
Everything is red. Red is the color of the flames outside, the color of Lilah’s flushed cheeks, the color of the suspicious stains on the carpet. She will never be able to leave this land of red, and if Anya is anything, she is opportunistic. She can switch sides; it doesn’t matter anymore. She’ll never be able to wash away the red that stains her clothes and the leftovers of her soul. Make this deal now and secure a future away from the red-hot hell waiting for her.
“I’m sorry,” she says to Lilah. “I wasn’t listening. Where would you like me to sign?”
Title: Seeing Red
Author: 50thousandtearz
Pairing/Character: Anya
Word Count: 650 words
Rating: PG
Summary: All Anya sees is red.
Spoilers/Warnings: Chosen
Author's Note: Repost of an older fic.
All Anya sees is red. Red is the color of tasty apples, the color of a lovely sunset, the color of Giles’ shiny new car, the color of her lingerie that Xander used to adore. Even though she liked seeing green more, she loved red. It was such a happy, cheerful color that lit up her world and made it pretty.
But Anya doesn’t think red is so pretty anymore. Red is also the color of her toenails when she was killed, the color of blood smeared over her friends’ faces, the color of hate and rage, the color that fills her vision as she fades away.
It can never be a good happy color again.
Not surprisingly, Anya is met in Hell by a woman wearing a red dress. Still disoriented from the battle, she ignores the woman’s outstretched hand.
“Lilah Morgan, Wolfram and Hart. You must be Anyanka.”
“Anya,” she says, staring out of a dark window across from her. It looks hot outside, with spots of bright flames and boiling pits.
“A pleasure to meet you,” says Lilah.
“How’s the battle going?” asks Anya. “Do you know anything?”
Lilah shrugs. “Not so well, although I have something interesting for you.” She holds out some papers and starts to talk about deals, devils and what Wolfram and Hart can do for her.
Anya’s not listening to her. She’s listening to the howling wind, the faraway screams that float by her and carry bits and pieces of her sanity away. She’s looking at this new environment of pain and torture and vaguely thinks that she’s changed a lot; Anyanka would’ve gotten a kick out of this place, seeing so many people get the revenge they deserved.
But she, Anya, doesn’t. She’s become sensitized to the range of human emotions. She’s abandoned her roots and joined the good side. She’s helped people and made friends. She’s become human. She doesn’t like this place at all.
She turns to Lilah and interrupts her sales pitch.
“I helped save the world. Don’t I get some kind of reward?”
Lilah laughs, a cold, kind of sophisticated sort of laugh. “You were a vengeance demon for centuries, killing and disemboweling men. Do you really think helping once would save your dirty soul?”
Anya looks over Lilah’s shoulder as she speaks, letting her words fade into the background. Through the window, she can see tall flames shoot up towards the night sky. Then suddenly, she hears thousands of screams, frightened and loud; sounds that seem to herald the worst disaster that could possibly happen.
“Hear that? I think that was the end of the good fight,” says Lilah.
Hot, red anger rushes through Anya’s veins, the first real emotion she’s felt since arriving in Hell.
“Are you sure?” she snaps.
“Very,” says Lilah. She looks through her papers. “I’ve taken the liberty of researching your colleagues. None of them will be joining you here.” She looks up and briefly smiles. “None of them were as bad as you, I guess.”
She is alone. Not only have they failed to win the battle that cost her life, they’ve made sure that she’ll go through a lonesome existence in Hell. The fear fades away and is replaced by sadness. There’s no point in fighting for good now; this is her place.
Everything is red. Red is the color of the flames outside, the color of Lilah’s flushed cheeks, the color of the suspicious stains on the carpet. She will never be able to leave this land of red, and if Anya is anything, she is opportunistic. She can switch sides; it doesn’t matter anymore. She’ll never be able to wash away the red that stains her clothes and the leftovers of her soul. Make this deal now and secure a future away from the red-hot hell waiting for her.
“I’m sorry,” she says to Lilah. “I wasn’t listening. Where would you like me to sign?”