World Without Shrimp (Portal, Part 7, 1/4)
Title: World Without Shrimp (Portal, Part 7, 1/4)
Author: kanedax
Fandom: BtVS/AtS Wishverse
Spoilers: BtVS season 6; Previous chapters
Major Characters/Pairings: Tara/Anya, Giles, Buffy, D'Hoffryn
Rating: R for language and mild femslash
Summary: Anya looks back as her relationship is put in jeopardy by extradimensional forces
Notes: As Vi was never given a full name in the series, I borrowed it from the first place I could find, the Hellmouth Alliance RPG.
I don't own these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon and 20th Century Fox.
Faith, Pike, and Sister Sunshine / Previous Chapters
March 7, 2002
"Sae Bun Ji Reogi!"
"Trip...el... punch!"
thump thump thump
"Ap yeop chagi!"
"Front kick, side kick!"
thump thump
"Huryeo chagi!"
"Roundhouse!"
crack
"Oh, God!" cried Violet Myers, throwing her hands across her mouth as Rupert Giles collapsed to the ground. "Oh, God, Mr. Giles, I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine," Giles groaned, pushing himself to his hands and knees. He removed his hand targets from his palms and gingerly tested his jaw with his fingertips.
"It's fine," repeated Anya Jenkins, grabbing Tara Maclay's arm as she moved to help Vi pull Giles to his feet. "He's a Watcher, his head's supposed to squish like that."
"I'm so so sorry, Mr. Giles!" Vi repeated as Giles steadied himself. "I always get the Huryeo and the Dollyeo mixed up, I didn't mean to..."
"When's Giles's birthday?" Tara asked Anya as she sat back down on the training room floor, leaning against the wall. "We should buy him one of those padded headgear things."
"Or a SWAT helmet," Anya agreed.
"I said it's fine," said Giles. "It was a well-placed roundhouse, even if you didn't mean to land it."
"But you told me to--"
“And you shouldn’t worry so much about mistakes, Miss Myers,” said Giles. “You’ll find when you’re in battle there are numerous ways to defeat an opponent in hand-to-hand combat. If you take even half of a moment to think ‘Which kick should I use?’ may be the last half moment you ever have. What were you thinking during that last attack?”
“Um, is a Huryeo a roundhouse or an axe kick or-“
“Honestly?”
“Honestly…” Vi said slowly. “Honestly, I thought that the roundhouse would move faster. And you weren’t expecting it. Plus it’s a more effective kick for me, and I don’t have the length to pull off a decent hook kick. But I didn’t even know I thought any of that until after you were on the ground.”
“The Watcher’s Training Manual states that you should know technique first,” said Giles. “That you should follow instructions without fail, and that losing with proper discipline is more important than winning sloppy. But six years on the Hellmouth has taught me that instinct should come first. And a Slayer’s instinct is stronger than any of us can even comprehend. Use it, Vi, it’s your most powerful weapon.”
“Okay, Mr. Giles…”
“The Watcher’s Council has a code to uphold,” Giles continued. “A standard that…that rarely meshes with the real world. They want things to be neat and clean and proper, even if it means getting their Slayer killed. There’s always another one waiting in the wings, and to the Council you’re a faceless soldier that can be easily replaced. But you’re not to me, and you’re not to yourself, so there are times when I say bollocks to the Council.”
“Does that mean we’re done training for the day?” Vi asked hopefully.
“Just because they’re not our only priority doesn’t mean they’re not important,” Giles corrected quickly. “We’ll wind down with a few kata, and then the others can have their turn.”
“Oh, Lord, I hate when he says that,” Anya groaned.
“I think it’s fun,” said Tara, leaning over and bumping Anya with her shoulder. “It’s nice to know that we could handle ourselves if we need to.”
“We’re the witches,” said Anya. “We’re supposed to stay in the back making our chants.”
“Yes, because the demons never reach the back,” said Giles flatly, striking a ready stance beside Vi. “Naihanchi, Miss Myers.”
“It’s still nice to know we have the ability, even if we don’t have the Slayer strength,” Tara continued. “And it’s good for us. I’m losing weight, and my flexibility’s getting a lot better.”
“I figured that out last night,” Anya said with a wink. Giles turned to her, prepared to make a snobbish retort, but held back. Vi just blushed slightly and continued with her movements.
“It’s nice to know you’re comfortable making the effort, at least, Miss Maclay,” Giles said eventually. “With our numbers thinning as they are, there are fewer and fewer of us with physical combat experience, and even less with actual ability. We have to start, what’s the term, multi-tasking?”
“Basically,” said a voice from the door, “there’s fewer fighters there to protect us pansies, so we have to learn to fight are own battles.”
The others turned to see Allan Doyle enter the training room, carrying a stack of flat boxes with two six-packs on top.
“Am I right?”
“Jesus, Irish,” said Anya. “Got enough pizza there?”
“I made the mistake of ordering our usual,” said Doyle, setting the stack on the floor. “Forgot we were half-staffed until after I hung up.”
“Ah, well, more for me,” said Anya, pulling a can of beer off one of the six-packs and cracking open the top pizza box.
“Larry and Oz said they’d be back tonight,” said Tara, removing a can of Coke from the other ring. “We can save them a few slices.”
“If they both come back,” said Anya. “I’m still convinced Oz is gonna join White Hat LA.”
“Why, because of Joan?” asked Doyle. “Man wouldn’t do it. He’s got too much invested here.”
“I don’t know,” said Vi, her movements still perfectly in synch with Giles’s. “He always gets that look when he talks about her, especially after the breakup.”
“What look?” asked Doyle incredulously. “Oz doesn’t get looks. He’s the Zen Master.”
“Oh, please,” Vi snorted. “He gets all distant and zoned when her name comes up. It’s extremely subtle, but Oz Subtle is, like, one hundred times more emotion than he usually gives.”
“He wouldn’t,” Doyle repeated more firmly. “We need him here. Los Angeles already has more firepower than we do here. We have the Slayer, sure, but with Buffy gone, Wes back in England, and Mears’s Robodawn split, we’re down quite a few trained hands. He knows that.”
“Besides, if they wanna get groinal, a two hour drive isn’t that bad,” said Anya.
“And once again she takes complex situations and translates them to their basest form,” Giles sighed as they finished their forms. “Thank you very much.”
“No problem,” Anya said with a grin.
“Maybe it’ll be the other way,” said Vi as she and Giles joined the trio around the pizza boxes, Giles pulling a can of beer while Vi snagged a cola. “Maybe he’ll finally talk her into coming back here. I mean, isn’t her old boyfriend still living in LA? That has to be awkward.”
“It’s LA,” said Doyle. “The odds of Joan and Devon running into each other are puny.”
“My hometown had a thousand people,” said Vi. “If you didn’t run into someone you knew, you just had to wait for the next day.”
“I don’t think she wants to leave,” said Tara. “From the emails I’ve been getting, she’s not even really front-lining anymore. She and a few people have actually started the groundwork for a teen shelter. Runaways, homeless, that sort of thing, and they’re not going to shy away from helping people who were, you know, victims of demonic influences.”
“That’s quite noble of her,” said Giles with a nod.
You’ve known him since you were squalling infants together
“Ask her to contact me. If she’s planning on assisting on that level, there are many powerful supernatural narcotics that would require specific counter-curses.
You're proposing to me 'cause we're gonna die
“I could provide those for her, if she wishes.”
“Are you okay?”
Tara rested her hand on the back of Anya’s neck. Anya looked up
Was it a breakaway pop hit or more of a book number?
and saw the look of concern in her girlfriend’s eyes.
“I’m… I’m fine,” Anya answered with a false smile. “No
and she’ll never have eggs or yawn or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will
problems here!”
“Are you sure?” Tara said, leaning in, and Anya could see that the others were looking at her with similar concern.
“I’m…” Anya stumbled. “I’m…. Pepperoni’s giving me gas. I’ll be right back.”
At that, Anya stood up and left the training room, barely feeling her legs as she walked down the stairs of the two-story complex once owned by the military organization known as The Initiative, one of many now sitting abandoned around Sunnydale.
What’s happening? she thought desperately as she pushed her way into the bathroom. These aren’t my thoughts.
And of course she knew exactly what was happening.
Just like she knew that the thoughts, the memories, weren’t exactly foreign.
Someone, somewhere, was making a move.
---------
September 12, 1999
“I’d like to welcome all of our sisters to this semester's first meeting of the UC Sunnydale Wiccan Group,” said the sickeningly perky wannabe. "To get things underway, I think we should start right out with electing new officers for this semester."
"If I may make a suggestion?" asked another one of the Wiccans. "I think it would be important for our circle to have someone elected specifically for the Sisters of the Moon Dance Recial. As we all know, last year we didn't have empowered leadership, and ticket sales were slow because of it."
"I agree," said the head. "I'll put it on the agenda, thank you, Brittney. We'll elect that leader after we deal with replacing Mindy as editor of the Gaian newsletter."
"Absolutely," said a third girl. "Spreading the message to the sisters is our most important priority."
As the seven other members nodded in agreement, Anya's head rolled on her shoulders in frustration.
How long has it been? she thought. Nine months? Ten? How long since that pathetic Englishman tricked her? Summoned her, Anyanka, the Patron Saint of Scorned Women across time and space? Tricked her, summoned her, destroyed her power center, leaving her a frail, rotting human among other frail, rotting humans?
For almost twelve hundred years she had been powerful. All knowing, all seeing. So why didn't she see it coming?
And why, after twelve hundred years, why would ten simple months seem like an eternity?
"Okay, then," said the president of the circle (Anya would remember her name, but even the wind of vengeance was allowed to be scornfully ignorant when a woman drew her wrath), "the brainstorming session is now open for new fundraising events this year. Any ideas?"
Anya didn't know why she kept coming to these meetings. All these little girls spoke of was empowerment and moon cycles and pretty-smelling candles. They knew nothing of real magic. Unfortunately for Anya, these mere chicks were the only option she had left. Most of the real witches in Sunnydale had been dispatched during the Master's reign. Some of the most powerful witches in the area, like Jennifer Calendar and Amy Madison, had died under the leadership of Anya's new nemesis, Rupert Giles. Others had been methodically dispatched by The Master's henchmen, most likely under the direction of Willow Rosenberg, who had known of their locations before she had been turned, and was able to gain their trust long enough to kill them after.
So the witches were dead, as were the warlocks (although Anyanka would never have allowed herself to bow to them for assistance). And the demon community knew better than to even hear her out. They knew that Anyanka had fallen, and they knew that D'Hoffryn was displeased with her, had refused her. His vengeance would be swift if anyone offered their assistance.
And so she waited, feeling herself grow older by the moment. Waited for someone to come along. Someone who was powerful enough to assist her, someone who knew her plight, and wished to help her regain her position of power.
Of course, someone naive enough to be tricked into assistance would be acceptable, as well. These girls were certainly naive enough. So it was just a matter of finding the power in the circle, finding someone willing...
"Okay, a bake sale is a great idea," said the girl. "Stephanie, as new secretary, could you write these ideas down?"
"I don't know if secretary is an appropriate name," said Stephanie. "To me, it's demeaning to women."
Oh, Christ.
"Excellent point. Maybe we can discuss more appropriate titles."
"I have an idea," said Anya, raising her hand. "I have an idea for an activity."
The girls turned to look at her with a wary eye. "Anya?" the leader said, pointing condescendingly at her with her pen.
"It's a great idea," Anya said. "Why don't we shut the hell up about making money, and get around to casting some fucking spells! Huh? Huh?"
"Anya," said the leader through a forced smile.
"Girl Whose Name I Don't Remember," Anya replied with an equally forced grin.
"You've been with us for a lot of meetings," the girl said carefully. "And while we try to be all-inclusive here within the circle, the fact remains that your constant presence has done nothing to help the strength of UC Sunnydale's circle."
"Aw, pity that," Anya drawled.
"But you insist on perpetuating the stereotype of Wiccans being wand-carrying, broomstick-riding hags with pointed hats and black cats," the girl continued, and Anya was pleased to see this girl's patience wearing thin, "then I would suggest you open a few books and actually read what we're about before you throw your slander. We're about empowerment--"
"You love that word, don't you?"
"--About empowerment, about finding joy and solace in Gaia and in her world, and not about pretending that cauldrons and potions and enchantments exist. It's about breaking negative stereotypes."
"Which is why I think having a car wash would be such a great idea," one of the other girls piped in.
"Why would that be breaking a negative stereotype?" asked another girl. "It's degrading to walk around in wet t-shirts and bikini bottoms."
"But it's fun!" the girl replied. "My swim team did it in high school, and we made a lot of money, and it'll show that we're more than, you know, stuffy and hating and all that. We can let our hair down, and show incoming freshmen that we enjoy our time together!"
"Move to strike Harmony's suggestion from the record."
"Seconded," Stephanie said. "Besides, my bottom doesn't look good in a swimsuit."
"Aw," Harmony said, crossing her arms in frustration. "You guys are no fun. I'm so going to find another sorority."
"We're not a sorority, Harmony," said the leader.
"Not with that attitude, you're not..."
"How long have you been living in Sunnydale," Anya asked the leader.
"This is my third year at Sunnydale," the girl replied.
"You've been here three years," said Anya, "and you don't believe in real magic?"
"You're referring to the so-called vampires?"
"Yes, I'm referring to the so-called vampires," said Anya. "You've had mystical staring you straight in the face."
"They were a mutated strain of human," the girl said with a shrug. "Rare, yes. Dangerous, yes. But they were as much of a part of Gaia's circle of life as any other living creature. They were a different species, no more, no less."
"Oh, Lord, you're fucking kidding me..." Anya yelled, throwing her hands in the air.
"I personally have had enough of your attitude, Anya," the leader snapped. "I'd like to put it to a vote: All in favor of Anya Jenkins leaving the circle, raise your hands."
Anya looked around the circle to see that most of the hands were raised. All but one, actually: One girl was sitting in the corner (which proved difficult in a circle, but she was pulling it off nicely). Anya couldn't see her face, as it was hung low and shrouded by her long hair, dyed blond with thick dark roots. In her hand, she was nervously fondling a...
"Is that a doll eye crystal?" Anya asked.
"It's unanimous," said the leader. "Anya, please leave our circle now."
"It's not unanimous," Anya responded. "Is that a doll eye crystal?"
The girl looked up at Anya, who barely had time to register that the girl had pretty eyes before she looked back down again, like looking at Anya's face for too long, or not too long, would melt her. But she nodded slightly.
"Where did you get it?" she insisted.
"Anya, if you'd please..."
"Cram it," Anya snapped, turning back to the girl. "Do you practice?"
The girl looked back up briefly, her lips barely twitching a nervous smile before her eyes returned to the crystal. "M...my grandmother gave it to... gave it to me," she said in barely a whisper. "I th...th...th...thought that we could... we could use it..."
"Use it?" asked the leader. "Use it for what?"
The girl looked around the circle, shrugged nervously, and wilted under the hard gaze of the other Wiccans.
"This is your first time, right?" the leader asked. "Your name's..." she scanned her finger down the sign-up sheet on her clipboard. "Tara?"
Tara barely nodded, her eyes never leaving her knees.
"Well, Tara," the leader snapped, "I'm sure you heard the conversation I just had with Anya. We don't do magic in this circle. We don't perform spells, make voodoo dolls, or give poison apples to fairy princesses. We're here to love our Mother Earth, to join spirits with our sisters, and to make the world a better place. If you're here for that, fine. If you're not, then I suggest you pretend to be Glinda or Hermione Granger or whoever someplace else."
"I...I'm sorry," Tara whispered, looking like she would just be happy to melt into the ground under the leader's words. Anya hated the leader of this circle already, but she hated her more a little bit more for what she was doing to Tara.
"Fuck this," Anya said to the leader, standing up. "Have fun with your empowerment. Tara, come on, let's go talk about reality."
She stood over Tara, trying her best not to intimidate the fragile girl (and what she must have gone through to get this way, Anya didn't want to think about). Tara didn't move.
"Look at me, Tara," Anya said quietly. And Tara did.
Yup, she has nice eyes, Anya thought. Cute face, too.
"Do you want to go talk about spells?" Anya asked. "Maybe do some?"
Tara nodded slightly.
"Then come on," Anya said with a smile, "I'll buy you a latte."
And, thankfully, Tara stood up, gathered her things, and left the circle.
"Okay," the leader sighed, "now that that's out of the way, we can get down to business..."
We can, Anya thought as the two walked to the coffee shop. She has some experience. She should be able to help me, but it's going to take a delicate touch.
I have my work cut out for me.
---------
And then, suddenly there was you, and ... you knew me. You saw me, and it was this ... thing. You make me feel safe and warm
"Stop it," Anya growled at the bathroom mirror.
So, I get it now. I finally get love, Xander. I really do
"Stop it! Get out of my head!"
We can't start over. If this is a mistake, it's forever, and ... I don't want to hurt you. Not that way
That's not even my voice, Anya thought. I'm not... These memories keep...
"D'Hoffryn!" Anya screamed at the ceiling. "D'Hoffryn, get your ass down here, now!"
No response. Just the buzz of the fluorescents. And the creak of the door behind her.
"Anya?" she heard the voice of Tara behind her. The absolute last voice she wanted to hear right now.
"D'Hoffryn, get down here!" Anya yelled, louder than before. "I swear to all that's unholy, I will not perform the ritual for you, I know you're listening! D'Hoffryn!"
"What's wrong?" asked Tara, walking into the bathroom. "Why are you calling for D'Hoffryn? You're not...?"
"I'm not," Anya said, trying hard not to let panic set in. "That's the problem. D'Hoffryn!"
Finally, the flourescents exploded as blue lightning streaked from above, knocking both Anya and Tara against the tiled wall. The lightning coalesced into a large figure before dissipating.
"I heard you the first time," the tall, blue-skinned demon grumbled as he stepped toward the two women. "Somehow I knew you'd have a few choice words about this situation."
"You're damn right I have a few choice words!" Anya yelled, pulling herself to her feet. "What the hell's going on, D'Hoffryn?"
"I think you know exactly what's going on, Anyanka..."
"You said never again!" she continued. "You said you were through with me! That Anyanka was no longer a part of the circle!"
"Yes, well," D'Hoffryn said mildly, "one can be wrong on occasion. I have seen how the humans had weakened her, shackled her. I thought it was time for her to return to the fold."
"I don't accept that," Anya snarled.
"My dear Anyanka," D'Hoffryn chuckled, "do you really think I care what you do or don't accept?"
"What...What's he talking about?" Tara asked. "What's happening?"
"Tara..." Anya breathed, then whipped her head back around to the demon. "I can't... You said never again!"
"Never again with you, at least," D'Hoffryn said, crossing his arms in disapproval. "Really, Anya, do you honestly think I'd let you back into the fold? After failing me twice?"
"The first time was an accident! He tricked me!"
"And the second time was by your own choice," D'Hoffryn said sternly. "Quite frankly, my dear, I think you deserve this."
"I don't!" Anya yelled. "I want to stay! I can't leave!"
"Leave?" Tara said, running forward. "What do you mean, leave?"
"Tara, I..."
"Vengeance demons are multi-dimensional creatures," D'Hoffryn explained. "There can be only one. When this Anyanka failed in her duties, her human self was thrust back into all of the realities she had created over the past millennium. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of wishes; Hundreds, perhaps thousands of human Anyankas. Most of them have died off, of course, but those that are still alive cannot exist as long as the Demon Anyanka can travel between her universes."
"What?" Tara stammered. "I don't understand."
"When a vengeance demon loses their power, all of their wishes are reversed," Anya tried to explain, "So we continue to exist, as humans, from the point where the wish would have been granted. Except for me. I was the one who was destroyed, so I had to stay here in this final reality."
"It's very complicated for a human to grasp," said D'Hoffryn. "But quite honestly I don't even care that much. The short version is your Anyanka will disappear from this reality in, oh, two days?"
"What?" Tara yelled. "Why? What did she do?"
"It's not what I did," Anya said. "I don't want to go, believe me."
"Then don't!" Tara said. "You don't have to, you can't..."
"She does," said D'Hoffryn. "Another Anyanka has approached me, and I have accepted her plea to rejoin my circle. Which means all Anyankas in all realities shall return to the Demon Anyanka. And I would say I'm terribly sorry, Miss Maclay, and I am. For you. But not for her. She's the one who put the other Anyankas in this position to begin with, she deserves to be punished."
"I can't..." Anya pleaded. "Please, I can't go back..."
"Oh, buck up," D'Hoffryn sneered. "All of the other Anyankas are pleased as punch to be returning to power, even if it means riding shotgun to Anyanka Alpha. In a few weeks time you won't even remember you anymore. You'll simply be the lovable Patron Saint of Scorned Women we always knew. Now are you done begging? I have much work to do."
"You think this is over?" Anya asked in the most threatening voice she could muster.
"Yes," he said, "I do."
Anya charged at D'Hoffryn, but he disappeared in a burst of light, leaving her to slam against the bathroom stall, howling with rage and pounding her fists against the steel frame.
"You can't do this!" she screamed at the ceiling. "You can't! I was out! Get back here!"
"Anya," Tara said, running to Anya as kneeling down as Anya slid down the stall to her knees. "Anya, calm down."
"I can't calm down!" said Anya, and Tara saw something that she so rarely saw in her girlfriend's eyes: fear. Fear, terror, agony all awash in fresh tears. "I can't calm down, Tara, I can't leave you..."
"I know," Tara replied, enclosing Anya's hands in her own. "I know. We'll figure out a way."
"I know a way," Anya gasped. "It's a long-shot, but... Halfrek!"
Another burst of light, this time coalescing into a dark-haired woman, who appeared in the bathroom in an arm-waving flourish. She looked down at the couple, and her smile faltered.
"Oh, um, hello, Anyanka," she said carefully. "How... How are you?"
"Pretty shitty, Hallie," Anya said, pulling herself up to her feet. "You know what's happening?"
"I do!" she said. "And I say good for you! Or, well, good for her. I knew that Xander was nothing but trouble, and it'll be good to have you back on the job again."
"I want to make a wish, Hallie," Anya said wearily. "I'm not a vengeance demon yet, I'm still a human. You can do that, right?"
Halfrek's smile slid even more. "Well, I don't know," she said. "I specialize in children's wishes..."
"Tough," Anya continued. "I wish to stay here."
"I can't grant that wish," Halfrek replied.
"Why?"
"Well, you know the rules, Anya..."
"I know the rules," Anya repeated. "No resurrection, no destroying the universe, no elimination of other vengeance demons, no creating warm rhubarb pies."
"I never got that one," Halfrek said with a shrug.
"D'Hoffryn hates rhubarb," Anya answered. "But I'm not asking for any of those, Hallie, I'm just--"
"You're asking for a paradox," Halfrek interrupted. "If you exist, Anyanka cannot. Hence things thrown out of balance, and the destruction of the universe. No go. I'm sorry."
"Then stop it!" Anya yelled. "Stop her! I wish that she never met Xander Harris!"
"You can't make wishes against people in other realities, Anyanka..."
"Hallie, there has to be something," Anya said, her strength leaving her. "Hallie, please, think of something... Stop them..."
Halfrek sighed wearily, crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Anya, darling," she said in a condescending tone that grated on Anya's already frayed nerves. "There's nothing I can do. I can't keep you here, and I can't stop them. Even if D'Hoffryn wouldn't kill me for even thinking of it, the fact remains that I agree with it. She deserves to be returned to power, and I couldn't be happier to see her come back."
"But... But you're my friend..."
"I am," Halfrek admitted. "Just like I'm still friends with all of my Anyas. But, admittedly, I'm closer to this one than the others. I was at the wedding. I saw what happened. If for no other reason than to see Xander get his lips torn off his face by a pack of wild chipmunks, I think she deserves her place again. If having her by my side for the next millenia means blinking the rest of you out of what short existence you have left, then I say 'Hear Hear!'"
Anya's mouth dropped open. It was one thing to hear D'Hoffryn say these things. But Hallie, her best friend since the woman named Cecily became a vengeance demon over a hundred years ago...?
Halfrek cracked a sympathetic smile. "I'm so, so sorry that this had to happen, Tara," she said to the glaring girl beside Anya. "I'll be honest, I've gotten to know you better than the other Taras. But I promise I'll stop by this dimension sometime and we can have lunch, some girl bonding time. Maybe I can bring Anyanka with me, if D'Hoffryn allows her to touch this universe's soil again. Bad luck, you know..."
Anya heard her girlfriend muttering quietly beside her, and for a moment she couldn't make out the words that were being spoken. Then she saw an orange glow in her palm, and put the pieces together.
"Tara," she said, putting her hand on Tara's shoulder. "Tara, don't..."
"Really. Don't," Halfrek agreed. "Any spell you throw at me will be a slight breeze, and you--"
"Orbis Incendia!"
Tara threw her hand out, releasing the ball of flame that shot at Halfrek's direction. Halfrek smiled easily, raised her hand to block the attack, and was surprised to find herself blasted through the door of the bathroom, smashing a dent into the wall at the opposite end of the hall.
"Okay," she stammered, pushing herself to her feet. "Okay, I can... I can see you don't..."
Her eyes widened when she saw Tara getting to her feet, her mouth soundlessly moving again.
"Right, right," Halfrek forced. "We'll... We'll talk when you're feeling better, Tara."
Lightning flew from Tara's hands, but they connected only with the wall as Halfrek disappeared in a smoky exit.
“Tara,” Anya said quietly from the floor. Tara spun around to look at her, and Anya flinched slightly. Her eyes, she thought. How’d they get all black? But then she blinked, and they were gone.
“I never much liked her anyway,” Tara panted, pushing her long hair out of her face. “Nothing personal.”
“Not at all,” said Anya. “I’m not liking her very much myself at the moment.”
“She’s serious,” said Tara, kneeling back down beside Anya. “All of this… You’re…?”
“I am,” said Anya. “Damn it, I knew this would bite me in the ass again.”
“We’ll stop it,” Tara said confidently. “We will. All of us.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Anya replied.
“Baby, you’ve been a vengeance demon twice before,” said Tara. “And you’ve lost the power twice before. They’re not exactly infallible.”
“That was different,” said Anya, grabbing Tara’s hands. “Tara, I don’t think there’s going to be a way to fix this.”
“We’ll find a way,” said Tara as Giles, Vi, and Doyle, responding to the commotion, ran into the bathroom. “We have to.”
---------
“It’s a simple spell.”
“It is?”
“Oh, yeah, totally,” said Anya with a wave of her hand. “Okay, no, that’s a lie.”
Tara smiled, chuckling gently over her Styrofoam cup. Anya couldn’t help but notice that the girl had been doing more and more of that in the two months that they had been hanging out, mostly practicing spells or studying. Well, Tara studied; Anya just helped out, as she admitted to her new 'friend' fairly early on that she wasn't an actual student at the school, and had only attended the Wiccan group to find others with the same interests.
Meanwhile, she continued to manipulate the situation, adapting to modern human interpersonal communication and societal norms with a swiftness that would have floored the Scoobies of our reality. Playing the girl, responding to her shyness with a gentle, supportive word, was quite a challenge, and she was up to it.
In short, subtlety was Anya Jenkins's strong suit.
And it’s not ‘hanging out’, part of Anya’s mind responded. Remember that. You’re doing the job. Getting the amulet back. And you’re so close to talking her into it...
But still, another part of her considered, it didn’t hurt to look. And as the two sat in the grassy commons area outside of Tara’s dorm, the rays of sun falling on the girl just the right way, she definitely was easier to look at. Tara had a kind of shy, natural attractive that wouldn't show up on any magazine cover, but that didn't mean it was bad...
“It’s difficult,” Anya continued, pushing herself back to reality, “at least when you’re trying to do it by yourself. But if you have someone there, another witch as an amplifier, then it’s a breeze.”
"Wh-wh-what are we going to do?" Tara asked. "What does the spell do?"
"It's a retrieval spell," said Anya.
"Finding something that you lost?"
"A little more complicated than that," Anya explained.
Here we go.
"See, when I was younger my father gave me a charm. Big, green, really pretty."
"M-magic?"
"Magic," Anya agreed. "He was into that sort of thing. Got me into it, actually. Anyway, yeah, it was enchanted; nothing too powerful, just a good luck charm, a little protection spell. But, um, about a year ago it was destroyed."
"How'd that happen?" asked Tara. "I mean, if it was enchanted with a protection spell..."
"It was, for me, but not for the amulet itself. No, it got broken. Had it on a desk, someone dropped something heavy on it, it got smashed. And I want to get it back, you know?"
"Doesn't sound that lucky if it got broken..."
"Yeah, probably," Anya said with a smile. "But it's a family heirloom, you know? An actual old thing. It's been a part of me for a long time, and I miss it. And we're good enough, you and I, so I thought we could take a shot."
And none of that was an actual lie, Anya thought. D'Hoffryn's as close to a father as I have, and I got it when I was younger. It gave me protection, and it was lucky when I had it. It's not like I'm deceiving her.
Then why are you trying to rationalize it?
"W-w-what do we have to do?"
"Well," said Anya, leaning forward, "what I want to try is opening a tiny rift in space-time."
Tara's eyes widened behind her long hair, and Anya tensed up.
"Space-time?" Tara said. "Isn't that...d-dangerous?"
"Usually," Anya said quickly. "Obviously, yeah, full-scale time travel's insanely dangerous. And I wouldn't want to do it. I don't want us to go back in time and rescue the amulet, believe me."
"Then what?"
"Well, I know when it was broken," Anya said carefully. She saw a wary look in Tara's eyes and knew that she had to walk a fine line to get this to work. "And I know where it was broken. So all we have to do is open up a small hole, just big enough for the amulet to fit through, maybe one second before it's broken. Then we just draw it through with a retrieval spell and close the hole up again."
Anya sat quietly, her hand tightening on her knee as she watch Tara debate the issue. Hoped for the right answer.
"It... Nothing bad will happen, right?" Tara asked finally.
"Tiny hole," said Anya. "Not opening up into any wacky demon dimensions. Just this one."
"Are you sure?"
"I promise," Anya said, taking Tara's hand for the first time, "nothing bad's going to happen to you."
She saw Tara flush slightly at the contact, but also saw that she wasn't pulling away, and also saw that smile again, and Anya knew the answer before she heard it.
"It could be fun," Tara admitted. "W-when?"
"Tonight?" Anya said. "My apartment?"
Tara smiled again, and nodded approval. "I'll come over after...after class," she said, gathering her things together.
"You have class now?" Anya asked, looking at her watch. Tara nodded again. "I'll walk you."
"Okay," Tara said, and the two girls pushed themselves off the lawn. As they entered the hallways, Anya watched Tara nervously tuck her hair behind her ear.
"Are...Are you sure you want the amulet?" she asked.
"I really do," Anya replied. "Why?"
"I...I don't know," Tara shrugged, hugging her books tight against her chest. "Just seems like...y-y-y-..."
"What?" Anya said, stopping.
"It just..." Tara took a deep breath. "You seem to be having better luck without it. We met each other without it, right?"
Tara said this entirely to her shoes, but Anya got the gist of it, and was floored. "Tara Maclay," she gasped, "are you actually flirting with me?"
Tara's face turned so red that it looked like she was ready to burst into flames. But she didn't say no.
And, amazingly, Anya felt her own face burn, and she couldn't remember the last time she had actually blushed like this. Centuries, maybe. It wasn't unpleasant.
And that's when Anyanka, former Patron Saint of Scorned Women, knew she was falling for this meek little witch.
"I was... wondering..." Tara continued, still not looking up. "I-if you were b-b-b-busy this weekend? There's a...a M-M-Mae West festival d-d-...."
"Tara, calm down," Anya said with a smile, putting her hand on the girl's arm.
I'll be busy, part of her, the quickly shrinking part of her, wanted to laugh. I'll be busy liquefying men's organs, turning them into giant slugs, and instilling thousands of other horrors upon those who truly deserve it. I'll be busy reclaiming my position as the Sword of Vengeance, riding the waves of time and space with the ease of blowing my nose.
Most importantly, I'll be getting out of this shithole reality, the one that's caused me nothing but grief since--
"I'm free this weekend," Anya replied. "And I love Mae West."
Tara smiled brightened along with her cheeks, and she did what she previously thought was unthinkable: She actually reached out and slipped her hand into Anya's. The gesture did nothing to abate Anya's developing feelings for the girl.
Well, Anya admitted as the two walked hand-in-hand to Tara's lecture hall, maybe I don't have to completely abandon this reality quite yet.
World Without Shrimp (2/4)
Author: kanedax
Fandom: BtVS/AtS Wishverse
Spoilers: BtVS season 6; Previous chapters
Major Characters/Pairings: Tara/Anya, Giles, Buffy, D'Hoffryn
Rating: R for language and mild femslash
Summary: Anya looks back as her relationship is put in jeopardy by extradimensional forces
Notes: As Vi was never given a full name in the series, I borrowed it from the first place I could find, the Hellmouth Alliance RPG.
I don't own these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon and 20th Century Fox.
Faith, Pike, and Sister Sunshine / Previous Chapters
March 7, 2002
"Sae Bun Ji Reogi!"
"Trip...el... punch!"
thump thump thump
"Ap yeop chagi!"
"Front kick, side kick!"
thump thump
"Huryeo chagi!"
"Roundhouse!"
crack
"Oh, God!" cried Violet Myers, throwing her hands across her mouth as Rupert Giles collapsed to the ground. "Oh, God, Mr. Giles, I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine," Giles groaned, pushing himself to his hands and knees. He removed his hand targets from his palms and gingerly tested his jaw with his fingertips.
"It's fine," repeated Anya Jenkins, grabbing Tara Maclay's arm as she moved to help Vi pull Giles to his feet. "He's a Watcher, his head's supposed to squish like that."
"I'm so so sorry, Mr. Giles!" Vi repeated as Giles steadied himself. "I always get the Huryeo and the Dollyeo mixed up, I didn't mean to..."
"When's Giles's birthday?" Tara asked Anya as she sat back down on the training room floor, leaning against the wall. "We should buy him one of those padded headgear things."
"Or a SWAT helmet," Anya agreed.
"I said it's fine," said Giles. "It was a well-placed roundhouse, even if you didn't mean to land it."
"But you told me to--"
“And you shouldn’t worry so much about mistakes, Miss Myers,” said Giles. “You’ll find when you’re in battle there are numerous ways to defeat an opponent in hand-to-hand combat. If you take even half of a moment to think ‘Which kick should I use?’ may be the last half moment you ever have. What were you thinking during that last attack?”
“Um, is a Huryeo a roundhouse or an axe kick or-“
“Honestly?”
“Honestly…” Vi said slowly. “Honestly, I thought that the roundhouse would move faster. And you weren’t expecting it. Plus it’s a more effective kick for me, and I don’t have the length to pull off a decent hook kick. But I didn’t even know I thought any of that until after you were on the ground.”
“The Watcher’s Training Manual states that you should know technique first,” said Giles. “That you should follow instructions without fail, and that losing with proper discipline is more important than winning sloppy. But six years on the Hellmouth has taught me that instinct should come first. And a Slayer’s instinct is stronger than any of us can even comprehend. Use it, Vi, it’s your most powerful weapon.”
“Okay, Mr. Giles…”
“The Watcher’s Council has a code to uphold,” Giles continued. “A standard that…that rarely meshes with the real world. They want things to be neat and clean and proper, even if it means getting their Slayer killed. There’s always another one waiting in the wings, and to the Council you’re a faceless soldier that can be easily replaced. But you’re not to me, and you’re not to yourself, so there are times when I say bollocks to the Council.”
“Does that mean we’re done training for the day?” Vi asked hopefully.
“Just because they’re not our only priority doesn’t mean they’re not important,” Giles corrected quickly. “We’ll wind down with a few kata, and then the others can have their turn.”
“Oh, Lord, I hate when he says that,” Anya groaned.
“I think it’s fun,” said Tara, leaning over and bumping Anya with her shoulder. “It’s nice to know that we could handle ourselves if we need to.”
“We’re the witches,” said Anya. “We’re supposed to stay in the back making our chants.”
“Yes, because the demons never reach the back,” said Giles flatly, striking a ready stance beside Vi. “Naihanchi, Miss Myers.”
“It’s still nice to know we have the ability, even if we don’t have the Slayer strength,” Tara continued. “And it’s good for us. I’m losing weight, and my flexibility’s getting a lot better.”
“I figured that out last night,” Anya said with a wink. Giles turned to her, prepared to make a snobbish retort, but held back. Vi just blushed slightly and continued with her movements.
“It’s nice to know you’re comfortable making the effort, at least, Miss Maclay,” Giles said eventually. “With our numbers thinning as they are, there are fewer and fewer of us with physical combat experience, and even less with actual ability. We have to start, what’s the term, multi-tasking?”
“Basically,” said a voice from the door, “there’s fewer fighters there to protect us pansies, so we have to learn to fight are own battles.”
The others turned to see Allan Doyle enter the training room, carrying a stack of flat boxes with two six-packs on top.
“Am I right?”
“Jesus, Irish,” said Anya. “Got enough pizza there?”
“I made the mistake of ordering our usual,” said Doyle, setting the stack on the floor. “Forgot we were half-staffed until after I hung up.”
“Ah, well, more for me,” said Anya, pulling a can of beer off one of the six-packs and cracking open the top pizza box.
“Larry and Oz said they’d be back tonight,” said Tara, removing a can of Coke from the other ring. “We can save them a few slices.”
“If they both come back,” said Anya. “I’m still convinced Oz is gonna join White Hat LA.”
“Why, because of Joan?” asked Doyle. “Man wouldn’t do it. He’s got too much invested here.”
“I don’t know,” said Vi, her movements still perfectly in synch with Giles’s. “He always gets that look when he talks about her, especially after the breakup.”
“What look?” asked Doyle incredulously. “Oz doesn’t get looks. He’s the Zen Master.”
“Oh, please,” Vi snorted. “He gets all distant and zoned when her name comes up. It’s extremely subtle, but Oz Subtle is, like, one hundred times more emotion than he usually gives.”
“He wouldn’t,” Doyle repeated more firmly. “We need him here. Los Angeles already has more firepower than we do here. We have the Slayer, sure, but with Buffy gone, Wes back in England, and Mears’s Robodawn split, we’re down quite a few trained hands. He knows that.”
“Besides, if they wanna get groinal, a two hour drive isn’t that bad,” said Anya.
“And once again she takes complex situations and translates them to their basest form,” Giles sighed as they finished their forms. “Thank you very much.”
“No problem,” Anya said with a grin.
“Maybe it’ll be the other way,” said Vi as she and Giles joined the trio around the pizza boxes, Giles pulling a can of beer while Vi snagged a cola. “Maybe he’ll finally talk her into coming back here. I mean, isn’t her old boyfriend still living in LA? That has to be awkward.”
“It’s LA,” said Doyle. “The odds of Joan and Devon running into each other are puny.”
“My hometown had a thousand people,” said Vi. “If you didn’t run into someone you knew, you just had to wait for the next day.”
“I don’t think she wants to leave,” said Tara. “From the emails I’ve been getting, she’s not even really front-lining anymore. She and a few people have actually started the groundwork for a teen shelter. Runaways, homeless, that sort of thing, and they’re not going to shy away from helping people who were, you know, victims of demonic influences.”
“That’s quite noble of her,” said Giles with a nod.
You’ve known him since you were squalling infants together
“Ask her to contact me. If she’s planning on assisting on that level, there are many powerful supernatural narcotics that would require specific counter-curses.
You're proposing to me 'cause we're gonna die
“I could provide those for her, if she wishes.”
“Are you okay?”
Tara rested her hand on the back of Anya’s neck. Anya looked up
Was it a breakaway pop hit or more of a book number?
and saw the look of concern in her girlfriend’s eyes.
“I’m… I’m fine,” Anya answered with a false smile. “No
and she’ll never have eggs or yawn or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will
problems here!”
“Are you sure?” Tara said, leaning in, and Anya could see that the others were looking at her with similar concern.
“I’m…” Anya stumbled. “I’m…. Pepperoni’s giving me gas. I’ll be right back.”
At that, Anya stood up and left the training room, barely feeling her legs as she walked down the stairs of the two-story complex once owned by the military organization known as The Initiative, one of many now sitting abandoned around Sunnydale.
What’s happening? she thought desperately as she pushed her way into the bathroom. These aren’t my thoughts.
And of course she knew exactly what was happening.
Just like she knew that the thoughts, the memories, weren’t exactly foreign.
Someone, somewhere, was making a move.
---------
September 12, 1999
“I’d like to welcome all of our sisters to this semester's first meeting of the UC Sunnydale Wiccan Group,” said the sickeningly perky wannabe. "To get things underway, I think we should start right out with electing new officers for this semester."
"If I may make a suggestion?" asked another one of the Wiccans. "I think it would be important for our circle to have someone elected specifically for the Sisters of the Moon Dance Recial. As we all know, last year we didn't have empowered leadership, and ticket sales were slow because of it."
"I agree," said the head. "I'll put it on the agenda, thank you, Brittney. We'll elect that leader after we deal with replacing Mindy as editor of the Gaian newsletter."
"Absolutely," said a third girl. "Spreading the message to the sisters is our most important priority."
As the seven other members nodded in agreement, Anya's head rolled on her shoulders in frustration.
How long has it been? she thought. Nine months? Ten? How long since that pathetic Englishman tricked her? Summoned her, Anyanka, the Patron Saint of Scorned Women across time and space? Tricked her, summoned her, destroyed her power center, leaving her a frail, rotting human among other frail, rotting humans?
For almost twelve hundred years she had been powerful. All knowing, all seeing. So why didn't she see it coming?
And why, after twelve hundred years, why would ten simple months seem like an eternity?
"Okay, then," said the president of the circle (Anya would remember her name, but even the wind of vengeance was allowed to be scornfully ignorant when a woman drew her wrath), "the brainstorming session is now open for new fundraising events this year. Any ideas?"
Anya didn't know why she kept coming to these meetings. All these little girls spoke of was empowerment and moon cycles and pretty-smelling candles. They knew nothing of real magic. Unfortunately for Anya, these mere chicks were the only option she had left. Most of the real witches in Sunnydale had been dispatched during the Master's reign. Some of the most powerful witches in the area, like Jennifer Calendar and Amy Madison, had died under the leadership of Anya's new nemesis, Rupert Giles. Others had been methodically dispatched by The Master's henchmen, most likely under the direction of Willow Rosenberg, who had known of their locations before she had been turned, and was able to gain their trust long enough to kill them after.
So the witches were dead, as were the warlocks (although Anyanka would never have allowed herself to bow to them for assistance). And the demon community knew better than to even hear her out. They knew that Anyanka had fallen, and they knew that D'Hoffryn was displeased with her, had refused her. His vengeance would be swift if anyone offered their assistance.
And so she waited, feeling herself grow older by the moment. Waited for someone to come along. Someone who was powerful enough to assist her, someone who knew her plight, and wished to help her regain her position of power.
Of course, someone naive enough to be tricked into assistance would be acceptable, as well. These girls were certainly naive enough. So it was just a matter of finding the power in the circle, finding someone willing...
"Okay, a bake sale is a great idea," said the girl. "Stephanie, as new secretary, could you write these ideas down?"
"I don't know if secretary is an appropriate name," said Stephanie. "To me, it's demeaning to women."
Oh, Christ.
"Excellent point. Maybe we can discuss more appropriate titles."
"I have an idea," said Anya, raising her hand. "I have an idea for an activity."
The girls turned to look at her with a wary eye. "Anya?" the leader said, pointing condescendingly at her with her pen.
"It's a great idea," Anya said. "Why don't we shut the hell up about making money, and get around to casting some fucking spells! Huh? Huh?"
"Anya," said the leader through a forced smile.
"Girl Whose Name I Don't Remember," Anya replied with an equally forced grin.
"You've been with us for a lot of meetings," the girl said carefully. "And while we try to be all-inclusive here within the circle, the fact remains that your constant presence has done nothing to help the strength of UC Sunnydale's circle."
"Aw, pity that," Anya drawled.
"But you insist on perpetuating the stereotype of Wiccans being wand-carrying, broomstick-riding hags with pointed hats and black cats," the girl continued, and Anya was pleased to see this girl's patience wearing thin, "then I would suggest you open a few books and actually read what we're about before you throw your slander. We're about empowerment--"
"You love that word, don't you?"
"--About empowerment, about finding joy and solace in Gaia and in her world, and not about pretending that cauldrons and potions and enchantments exist. It's about breaking negative stereotypes."
"Which is why I think having a car wash would be such a great idea," one of the other girls piped in.
"Why would that be breaking a negative stereotype?" asked another girl. "It's degrading to walk around in wet t-shirts and bikini bottoms."
"But it's fun!" the girl replied. "My swim team did it in high school, and we made a lot of money, and it'll show that we're more than, you know, stuffy and hating and all that. We can let our hair down, and show incoming freshmen that we enjoy our time together!"
"Move to strike Harmony's suggestion from the record."
"Seconded," Stephanie said. "Besides, my bottom doesn't look good in a swimsuit."
"Aw," Harmony said, crossing her arms in frustration. "You guys are no fun. I'm so going to find another sorority."
"We're not a sorority, Harmony," said the leader.
"Not with that attitude, you're not..."
"How long have you been living in Sunnydale," Anya asked the leader.
"This is my third year at Sunnydale," the girl replied.
"You've been here three years," said Anya, "and you don't believe in real magic?"
"You're referring to the so-called vampires?"
"Yes, I'm referring to the so-called vampires," said Anya. "You've had mystical staring you straight in the face."
"They were a mutated strain of human," the girl said with a shrug. "Rare, yes. Dangerous, yes. But they were as much of a part of Gaia's circle of life as any other living creature. They were a different species, no more, no less."
"Oh, Lord, you're fucking kidding me..." Anya yelled, throwing her hands in the air.
"I personally have had enough of your attitude, Anya," the leader snapped. "I'd like to put it to a vote: All in favor of Anya Jenkins leaving the circle, raise your hands."
Anya looked around the circle to see that most of the hands were raised. All but one, actually: One girl was sitting in the corner (which proved difficult in a circle, but she was pulling it off nicely). Anya couldn't see her face, as it was hung low and shrouded by her long hair, dyed blond with thick dark roots. In her hand, she was nervously fondling a...
"Is that a doll eye crystal?" Anya asked.
"It's unanimous," said the leader. "Anya, please leave our circle now."
"It's not unanimous," Anya responded. "Is that a doll eye crystal?"
The girl looked up at Anya, who barely had time to register that the girl had pretty eyes before she looked back down again, like looking at Anya's face for too long, or not too long, would melt her. But she nodded slightly.
"Where did you get it?" she insisted.
"Anya, if you'd please..."
"Cram it," Anya snapped, turning back to the girl. "Do you practice?"
The girl looked back up briefly, her lips barely twitching a nervous smile before her eyes returned to the crystal. "M...my grandmother gave it to... gave it to me," she said in barely a whisper. "I th...th...th...thought that we could... we could use it..."
"Use it?" asked the leader. "Use it for what?"
The girl looked around the circle, shrugged nervously, and wilted under the hard gaze of the other Wiccans.
"This is your first time, right?" the leader asked. "Your name's..." she scanned her finger down the sign-up sheet on her clipboard. "Tara?"
Tara barely nodded, her eyes never leaving her knees.
"Well, Tara," the leader snapped, "I'm sure you heard the conversation I just had with Anya. We don't do magic in this circle. We don't perform spells, make voodoo dolls, or give poison apples to fairy princesses. We're here to love our Mother Earth, to join spirits with our sisters, and to make the world a better place. If you're here for that, fine. If you're not, then I suggest you pretend to be Glinda or Hermione Granger or whoever someplace else."
"I...I'm sorry," Tara whispered, looking like she would just be happy to melt into the ground under the leader's words. Anya hated the leader of this circle already, but she hated her more a little bit more for what she was doing to Tara.
"Fuck this," Anya said to the leader, standing up. "Have fun with your empowerment. Tara, come on, let's go talk about reality."
She stood over Tara, trying her best not to intimidate the fragile girl (and what she must have gone through to get this way, Anya didn't want to think about). Tara didn't move.
"Look at me, Tara," Anya said quietly. And Tara did.
Yup, she has nice eyes, Anya thought. Cute face, too.
"Do you want to go talk about spells?" Anya asked. "Maybe do some?"
Tara nodded slightly.
"Then come on," Anya said with a smile, "I'll buy you a latte."
And, thankfully, Tara stood up, gathered her things, and left the circle.
"Okay," the leader sighed, "now that that's out of the way, we can get down to business..."
We can, Anya thought as the two walked to the coffee shop. She has some experience. She should be able to help me, but it's going to take a delicate touch.
I have my work cut out for me.
---------
And then, suddenly there was you, and ... you knew me. You saw me, and it was this ... thing. You make me feel safe and warm
"Stop it," Anya growled at the bathroom mirror.
So, I get it now. I finally get love, Xander. I really do
"Stop it! Get out of my head!"
We can't start over. If this is a mistake, it's forever, and ... I don't want to hurt you. Not that way
That's not even my voice, Anya thought. I'm not... These memories keep...
"D'Hoffryn!" Anya screamed at the ceiling. "D'Hoffryn, get your ass down here, now!"
No response. Just the buzz of the fluorescents. And the creak of the door behind her.
"Anya?" she heard the voice of Tara behind her. The absolute last voice she wanted to hear right now.
"D'Hoffryn, get down here!" Anya yelled, louder than before. "I swear to all that's unholy, I will not perform the ritual for you, I know you're listening! D'Hoffryn!"
"What's wrong?" asked Tara, walking into the bathroom. "Why are you calling for D'Hoffryn? You're not...?"
"I'm not," Anya said, trying hard not to let panic set in. "That's the problem. D'Hoffryn!"
Finally, the flourescents exploded as blue lightning streaked from above, knocking both Anya and Tara against the tiled wall. The lightning coalesced into a large figure before dissipating.
"I heard you the first time," the tall, blue-skinned demon grumbled as he stepped toward the two women. "Somehow I knew you'd have a few choice words about this situation."
"You're damn right I have a few choice words!" Anya yelled, pulling herself to her feet. "What the hell's going on, D'Hoffryn?"
"I think you know exactly what's going on, Anyanka..."
"You said never again!" she continued. "You said you were through with me! That Anyanka was no longer a part of the circle!"
"Yes, well," D'Hoffryn said mildly, "one can be wrong on occasion. I have seen how the humans had weakened her, shackled her. I thought it was time for her to return to the fold."
"I don't accept that," Anya snarled.
"My dear Anyanka," D'Hoffryn chuckled, "do you really think I care what you do or don't accept?"
"What...What's he talking about?" Tara asked. "What's happening?"
"Tara..." Anya breathed, then whipped her head back around to the demon. "I can't... You said never again!"
"Never again with you, at least," D'Hoffryn said, crossing his arms in disapproval. "Really, Anya, do you honestly think I'd let you back into the fold? After failing me twice?"
"The first time was an accident! He tricked me!"
"And the second time was by your own choice," D'Hoffryn said sternly. "Quite frankly, my dear, I think you deserve this."
"I don't!" Anya yelled. "I want to stay! I can't leave!"
"Leave?" Tara said, running forward. "What do you mean, leave?"
"Tara, I..."
"Vengeance demons are multi-dimensional creatures," D'Hoffryn explained. "There can be only one. When this Anyanka failed in her duties, her human self was thrust back into all of the realities she had created over the past millennium. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of wishes; Hundreds, perhaps thousands of human Anyankas. Most of them have died off, of course, but those that are still alive cannot exist as long as the Demon Anyanka can travel between her universes."
"What?" Tara stammered. "I don't understand."
"When a vengeance demon loses their power, all of their wishes are reversed," Anya tried to explain, "So we continue to exist, as humans, from the point where the wish would have been granted. Except for me. I was the one who was destroyed, so I had to stay here in this final reality."
"It's very complicated for a human to grasp," said D'Hoffryn. "But quite honestly I don't even care that much. The short version is your Anyanka will disappear from this reality in, oh, two days?"
"What?" Tara yelled. "Why? What did she do?"
"It's not what I did," Anya said. "I don't want to go, believe me."
"Then don't!" Tara said. "You don't have to, you can't..."
"She does," said D'Hoffryn. "Another Anyanka has approached me, and I have accepted her plea to rejoin my circle. Which means all Anyankas in all realities shall return to the Demon Anyanka. And I would say I'm terribly sorry, Miss Maclay, and I am. For you. But not for her. She's the one who put the other Anyankas in this position to begin with, she deserves to be punished."
"I can't..." Anya pleaded. "Please, I can't go back..."
"Oh, buck up," D'Hoffryn sneered. "All of the other Anyankas are pleased as punch to be returning to power, even if it means riding shotgun to Anyanka Alpha. In a few weeks time you won't even remember you anymore. You'll simply be the lovable Patron Saint of Scorned Women we always knew. Now are you done begging? I have much work to do."
"You think this is over?" Anya asked in the most threatening voice she could muster.
"Yes," he said, "I do."
Anya charged at D'Hoffryn, but he disappeared in a burst of light, leaving her to slam against the bathroom stall, howling with rage and pounding her fists against the steel frame.
"You can't do this!" she screamed at the ceiling. "You can't! I was out! Get back here!"
"Anya," Tara said, running to Anya as kneeling down as Anya slid down the stall to her knees. "Anya, calm down."
"I can't calm down!" said Anya, and Tara saw something that she so rarely saw in her girlfriend's eyes: fear. Fear, terror, agony all awash in fresh tears. "I can't calm down, Tara, I can't leave you..."
"I know," Tara replied, enclosing Anya's hands in her own. "I know. We'll figure out a way."
"I know a way," Anya gasped. "It's a long-shot, but... Halfrek!"
Another burst of light, this time coalescing into a dark-haired woman, who appeared in the bathroom in an arm-waving flourish. She looked down at the couple, and her smile faltered.
"Oh, um, hello, Anyanka," she said carefully. "How... How are you?"
"Pretty shitty, Hallie," Anya said, pulling herself up to her feet. "You know what's happening?"
"I do!" she said. "And I say good for you! Or, well, good for her. I knew that Xander was nothing but trouble, and it'll be good to have you back on the job again."
"I want to make a wish, Hallie," Anya said wearily. "I'm not a vengeance demon yet, I'm still a human. You can do that, right?"
Halfrek's smile slid even more. "Well, I don't know," she said. "I specialize in children's wishes..."
"Tough," Anya continued. "I wish to stay here."
"I can't grant that wish," Halfrek replied.
"Why?"
"Well, you know the rules, Anya..."
"I know the rules," Anya repeated. "No resurrection, no destroying the universe, no elimination of other vengeance demons, no creating warm rhubarb pies."
"I never got that one," Halfrek said with a shrug.
"D'Hoffryn hates rhubarb," Anya answered. "But I'm not asking for any of those, Hallie, I'm just--"
"You're asking for a paradox," Halfrek interrupted. "If you exist, Anyanka cannot. Hence things thrown out of balance, and the destruction of the universe. No go. I'm sorry."
"Then stop it!" Anya yelled. "Stop her! I wish that she never met Xander Harris!"
"You can't make wishes against people in other realities, Anyanka..."
"Hallie, there has to be something," Anya said, her strength leaving her. "Hallie, please, think of something... Stop them..."
Halfrek sighed wearily, crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Anya, darling," she said in a condescending tone that grated on Anya's already frayed nerves. "There's nothing I can do. I can't keep you here, and I can't stop them. Even if D'Hoffryn wouldn't kill me for even thinking of it, the fact remains that I agree with it. She deserves to be returned to power, and I couldn't be happier to see her come back."
"But... But you're my friend..."
"I am," Halfrek admitted. "Just like I'm still friends with all of my Anyas. But, admittedly, I'm closer to this one than the others. I was at the wedding. I saw what happened. If for no other reason than to see Xander get his lips torn off his face by a pack of wild chipmunks, I think she deserves her place again. If having her by my side for the next millenia means blinking the rest of you out of what short existence you have left, then I say 'Hear Hear!'"
Anya's mouth dropped open. It was one thing to hear D'Hoffryn say these things. But Hallie, her best friend since the woman named Cecily became a vengeance demon over a hundred years ago...?
Halfrek cracked a sympathetic smile. "I'm so, so sorry that this had to happen, Tara," she said to the glaring girl beside Anya. "I'll be honest, I've gotten to know you better than the other Taras. But I promise I'll stop by this dimension sometime and we can have lunch, some girl bonding time. Maybe I can bring Anyanka with me, if D'Hoffryn allows her to touch this universe's soil again. Bad luck, you know..."
Anya heard her girlfriend muttering quietly beside her, and for a moment she couldn't make out the words that were being spoken. Then she saw an orange glow in her palm, and put the pieces together.
"Tara," she said, putting her hand on Tara's shoulder. "Tara, don't..."
"Really. Don't," Halfrek agreed. "Any spell you throw at me will be a slight breeze, and you--"
"Orbis Incendia!"
Tara threw her hand out, releasing the ball of flame that shot at Halfrek's direction. Halfrek smiled easily, raised her hand to block the attack, and was surprised to find herself blasted through the door of the bathroom, smashing a dent into the wall at the opposite end of the hall.
"Okay," she stammered, pushing herself to her feet. "Okay, I can... I can see you don't..."
Her eyes widened when she saw Tara getting to her feet, her mouth soundlessly moving again.
"Right, right," Halfrek forced. "We'll... We'll talk when you're feeling better, Tara."
Lightning flew from Tara's hands, but they connected only with the wall as Halfrek disappeared in a smoky exit.
“Tara,” Anya said quietly from the floor. Tara spun around to look at her, and Anya flinched slightly. Her eyes, she thought. How’d they get all black? But then she blinked, and they were gone.
“I never much liked her anyway,” Tara panted, pushing her long hair out of her face. “Nothing personal.”
“Not at all,” said Anya. “I’m not liking her very much myself at the moment.”
“She’s serious,” said Tara, kneeling back down beside Anya. “All of this… You’re…?”
“I am,” said Anya. “Damn it, I knew this would bite me in the ass again.”
“We’ll stop it,” Tara said confidently. “We will. All of us.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Anya replied.
“Baby, you’ve been a vengeance demon twice before,” said Tara. “And you’ve lost the power twice before. They’re not exactly infallible.”
“That was different,” said Anya, grabbing Tara’s hands. “Tara, I don’t think there’s going to be a way to fix this.”
“We’ll find a way,” said Tara as Giles, Vi, and Doyle, responding to the commotion, ran into the bathroom. “We have to.”
---------
“It’s a simple spell.”
“It is?”
“Oh, yeah, totally,” said Anya with a wave of her hand. “Okay, no, that’s a lie.”
Tara smiled, chuckling gently over her Styrofoam cup. Anya couldn’t help but notice that the girl had been doing more and more of that in the two months that they had been hanging out, mostly practicing spells or studying. Well, Tara studied; Anya just helped out, as she admitted to her new 'friend' fairly early on that she wasn't an actual student at the school, and had only attended the Wiccan group to find others with the same interests.
Meanwhile, she continued to manipulate the situation, adapting to modern human interpersonal communication and societal norms with a swiftness that would have floored the Scoobies of our reality. Playing the girl, responding to her shyness with a gentle, supportive word, was quite a challenge, and she was up to it.
In short, subtlety was Anya Jenkins's strong suit.
And it’s not ‘hanging out’, part of Anya’s mind responded. Remember that. You’re doing the job. Getting the amulet back. And you’re so close to talking her into it...
But still, another part of her considered, it didn’t hurt to look. And as the two sat in the grassy commons area outside of Tara’s dorm, the rays of sun falling on the girl just the right way, she definitely was easier to look at. Tara had a kind of shy, natural attractive that wouldn't show up on any magazine cover, but that didn't mean it was bad...
“It’s difficult,” Anya continued, pushing herself back to reality, “at least when you’re trying to do it by yourself. But if you have someone there, another witch as an amplifier, then it’s a breeze.”
"Wh-wh-what are we going to do?" Tara asked. "What does the spell do?"
"It's a retrieval spell," said Anya.
"Finding something that you lost?"
"A little more complicated than that," Anya explained.
Here we go.
"See, when I was younger my father gave me a charm. Big, green, really pretty."
"M-magic?"
"Magic," Anya agreed. "He was into that sort of thing. Got me into it, actually. Anyway, yeah, it was enchanted; nothing too powerful, just a good luck charm, a little protection spell. But, um, about a year ago it was destroyed."
"How'd that happen?" asked Tara. "I mean, if it was enchanted with a protection spell..."
"It was, for me, but not for the amulet itself. No, it got broken. Had it on a desk, someone dropped something heavy on it, it got smashed. And I want to get it back, you know?"
"Doesn't sound that lucky if it got broken..."
"Yeah, probably," Anya said with a smile. "But it's a family heirloom, you know? An actual old thing. It's been a part of me for a long time, and I miss it. And we're good enough, you and I, so I thought we could take a shot."
And none of that was an actual lie, Anya thought. D'Hoffryn's as close to a father as I have, and I got it when I was younger. It gave me protection, and it was lucky when I had it. It's not like I'm deceiving her.
Then why are you trying to rationalize it?
"W-w-what do we have to do?"
"Well," said Anya, leaning forward, "what I want to try is opening a tiny rift in space-time."
Tara's eyes widened behind her long hair, and Anya tensed up.
"Space-time?" Tara said. "Isn't that...d-dangerous?"
"Usually," Anya said quickly. "Obviously, yeah, full-scale time travel's insanely dangerous. And I wouldn't want to do it. I don't want us to go back in time and rescue the amulet, believe me."
"Then what?"
"Well, I know when it was broken," Anya said carefully. She saw a wary look in Tara's eyes and knew that she had to walk a fine line to get this to work. "And I know where it was broken. So all we have to do is open up a small hole, just big enough for the amulet to fit through, maybe one second before it's broken. Then we just draw it through with a retrieval spell and close the hole up again."
Anya sat quietly, her hand tightening on her knee as she watch Tara debate the issue. Hoped for the right answer.
"It... Nothing bad will happen, right?" Tara asked finally.
"Tiny hole," said Anya. "Not opening up into any wacky demon dimensions. Just this one."
"Are you sure?"
"I promise," Anya said, taking Tara's hand for the first time, "nothing bad's going to happen to you."
She saw Tara flush slightly at the contact, but also saw that she wasn't pulling away, and also saw that smile again, and Anya knew the answer before she heard it.
"It could be fun," Tara admitted. "W-when?"
"Tonight?" Anya said. "My apartment?"
Tara smiled again, and nodded approval. "I'll come over after...after class," she said, gathering her things together.
"You have class now?" Anya asked, looking at her watch. Tara nodded again. "I'll walk you."
"Okay," Tara said, and the two girls pushed themselves off the lawn. As they entered the hallways, Anya watched Tara nervously tuck her hair behind her ear.
"Are...Are you sure you want the amulet?" she asked.
"I really do," Anya replied. "Why?"
"I...I don't know," Tara shrugged, hugging her books tight against her chest. "Just seems like...y-y-y-..."
"What?" Anya said, stopping.
"It just..." Tara took a deep breath. "You seem to be having better luck without it. We met each other without it, right?"
Tara said this entirely to her shoes, but Anya got the gist of it, and was floored. "Tara Maclay," she gasped, "are you actually flirting with me?"
Tara's face turned so red that it looked like she was ready to burst into flames. But she didn't say no.
And, amazingly, Anya felt her own face burn, and she couldn't remember the last time she had actually blushed like this. Centuries, maybe. It wasn't unpleasant.
And that's when Anyanka, former Patron Saint of Scorned Women, knew she was falling for this meek little witch.
"I was... wondering..." Tara continued, still not looking up. "I-if you were b-b-b-busy this weekend? There's a...a M-M-Mae West festival d-d-...."
"Tara, calm down," Anya said with a smile, putting her hand on the girl's arm.
I'll be busy, part of her, the quickly shrinking part of her, wanted to laugh. I'll be busy liquefying men's organs, turning them into giant slugs, and instilling thousands of other horrors upon those who truly deserve it. I'll be busy reclaiming my position as the Sword of Vengeance, riding the waves of time and space with the ease of blowing my nose.
Most importantly, I'll be getting out of this shithole reality, the one that's caused me nothing but grief since--
"I'm free this weekend," Anya replied. "And I love Mae West."
Tara smiled brightened along with her cheeks, and she did what she previously thought was unthinkable: She actually reached out and slipped her hand into Anya's. The gesture did nothing to abate Anya's developing feelings for the girl.
Well, Anya admitted as the two walked hand-in-hand to Tara's lecture hall, maybe I don't have to completely abandon this reality quite yet.
World Without Shrimp (2/4)