World Without Shrimp (Portal, Part 7, 2/4)
Title: World Without Shrimp (Portal, Part 7, 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.
World Without Shrimp (1/4) / Previous Chapters / World Without Shrimp (3/4)
Anya Jenkins and Tara Maclay were relatively new to the Hellmouth. They really didn't fully understand one of the first rules of Sunnydale: No matter what reality, what age, what side of that line between good and evil, if you get into a relationship something will go horribly wrong. It was just a matter of time, really.
Actually, funny story: When Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris were turned and introduced for the first time as The Master's new lieutenants, wagers started flying behind the scenes as to which of the two sadistic lovebirds was going to get dusted first, and when.
Ironically, Oliver Pike was the one who won the Stake Pool. Unfortunately the bookie got staked before he could pay out, so Oliver had to settle for the runner-up prize of a mystical gauntlet, violent sex with a psychotic Seer, and eventual amputation by his ex-girlfriend followed closely by a stake through the heart by a teenage raver from Boston.
Okay, maybe that wasn't that funny.
"Giles, you've done this before!" Tara said as the group returned to the Watcher's townhouse. "You destroyed a vengeance demon, we can do it again!"
"It doesn't work that way," Giles said, pulling down the first of many books that he would be studying over the next forty-eight hours. "She was arrogant, ill-prepared..."
"You were lucky," Anya said, falling onto the couch.
"Yes, that as well," said Giles as Doyle and Vi pulled down some books of their own.
"Even if I disappear, D'Hoffryn's definitely going to set this dimension as off-limits," said Anya. "He'll assign some other vengeance demon to handle the women around here. He knows you're tricky, so defeating the new Anyanka's going to be undoable."
"But you must also remember that she was already a vengeance demon when I defeated her," said Giles to Tara. "I didn't have to stop it from happening. This is a completely different situation."
"Okay, then," said Doyle, "how do we stop it from happening?"
"I don't know," Giles sighed, flipping through the pages.
"Well, is there any way to, like, hop dimensions?" asked Vi. "Go to the universe that this Anya's living in? Make her stop before she finishes?"
"Not likely," said Tara. "Well, it's possible. But there are hundreds of realities she'd be in. Knowing which one..."
"I know which one she comes from," said Anya. "I recognize some of the people in her memories. She's living in Cordelia Chase's world, the one where she made the wish that made this one. But she's not there anymore."
"It always comes back to that bloody Wish, doesn't it?" Giles said, pulling off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"She moved to L.A.," said Anya. "Started a detective agency with Angel and Wesley."
"That seems... fairly random," said Giles. "How do you know all of this?"
"The memories are seeping in faster," said Anya, pressing her fingertips to her temple. "I don't know how much time we have."
"But you said she's not there anymore?" said Tara, sitting down next to Anya. "Where is she?"
"She'll be in D'Hoffryn's plane," said Anya. "Away from everything so they can complete the ritual, creating the new power center and pulling the rest of us in. When I turned the second time, I was using an amulet already made for me, so it was instantaneous. This one will take time, but probably no more than two days, three tops. And there's no way we can touch her, it's invitation only in D's reality."
"How do we get an invitation?" asked Tara. "Can you get in?"
"The only way I can get there without him opening the door is with his talisman," said Anya, "which, unfortunately, he melted into slag after English depowered me the first time."
"So, what then?" said Vi. "Honest to Pete, we're running out of options."
"We are," Anya agreed. "Hense my tone of defeat. If you can come up with a way to go into that reality and alter time to take her out before the wedding without tearing apart the fabric of the universe then more power to ya. Otherwise, you wait till I'm gone, hop around between realities until you can find her and defeat her, and hope to the goddess that that'll set me right back down here again."
"There have to be other ways," said Tara, squeezing Anya's hand. "We'll find them, I promise. I'm not giving you up that easily."
"We'll have to work fast," said Giles. "I'll contact the Council, see if they have any suggestions. Doyle, call Los Angeles, see if they have any contacts who can get them to mystics, friendly demons, the bloody Powers that Be, anybody who can offer their assistance."
"What about me?" asked Vi, and Tara stood up, silently repeating the question.
"Research," said Giles, tossing his book underhand to Tara. "Check my library, check Merrick's library, check The Initiative's information stores. Try to find anything on vengeance demons: their habits, their weaknesses, how they travel between dimensions, and how we can trap them if we need to."
"We have to be able to stop this before she disappears!" Tara cried. "Giles, her brain's connected to the Anyanka that's changing. Couldn't we use that link for something? Sever the connection?"
"Paradox, baby," said Anya. "She can't turn without me."
"Oh, screw paradox!" Tara yelled. "I'm not going to wait for you to disappear on me!"
"Go whatever route you feel is the strongest," Giles said quickly, picking up the phone. "Doyle..."
"On it," Doyle said, pulling out his cell phone and, grabbing a notebook, running upstairs in order to get to a quieter area.
And so the search began.
In vain.
When Oz and Larry returned from Los Angeles they were given the dimestore version of events before being thrown into the research. Giles's call to the Council turned up relatively fruitless, as Wesley Wyndham-Pryce promised as much research as he could find, but warned that it would take a week, maybe more, in order to delve through the archives. L.A. turned up similar results, promising to find mystics that could possibly help, but knowing that two days wasn't going to be enough time.
And so the hunt continued. For hours on end the remaining White Hats researched dusty tomes and high-speed Internet relays. Their dedication to their teammates, both Anya and Tara, would have made our Buffy Summers proud, but would have made their Buffy shake her head in disbelief.
But time passed. Leads dried up. Books were stacked one on top of another as each one came through with nothing. Eventually Doyle looked up from his lithographs to see Anya and Tara sitting side-by-side on Giles's couch, poring over a huge text that sat on both of their laps. He saw the look of weary determination on Tara's face and resigned inevitability on Anya's.
"Giles," he said quietly. "I need to talk to you for a minute, mate."
Giles, currently leaning against his bar, looked up at the Irishman and nodded. The two walked into the hallway and spoke in hushed tones that no one could hear, occasionally looking up at the couple who took no notice. After a few minutes of conferring, the two returned to the living room.
"Anya, Tara," Giles said, removing his glasses. "Go home."
"No," Tara said without even raising her head from the book.
"Tara, love," Doyle said, sitting on the arm of the couch. "You two need rest."
"We all need rest," Tara replied. "I'll rest after we get this figured out."
"Tara," said Giles, "I hate to be the one to say this out loud, but it's looking unlikely that we'll be able to find a way to stop the transformation from occurring."
"Don't say that," said Tara stiffly. "Don't..."
"They're right," said Anya. "Tara, look, I know how this works. I've known D'Hoffryn for a thousand years. If there was a loophole we would have found it by now."
"We'll keep looking," said Larry to the two girls. "And we'll call if we find anything. But, like you said, it could be another day, or it could be another five minutes. So go, do what you two need to do."
"Tara," said Anya, "let's go home, okay?"
"I'm not saying goodbye yet!" Tara yelled, her tears coming quickly and freely. "Not when there could still be a way!"
"We'll keep looking," Oz repeated. "We'll call. Go."
Tara swung her gaze furiously around the group. "This isn't over," she said. "I am not giving up..."
"You're not," said Anya calmly. "I know you're not. There might be a way after she changes. But, Tara, baby, I don't know how much time I have left. And, I know you don't want to hear it, but I'd rather spend that time with you."
Tara stared into her love's eyes, and the anger slowly gave way. She nodded. "Okay," she said. "What do you want to do?"
"Let's just go home," said Anya. "Lay down. Rest. Talk. Whatever."
"Okay," said Tara, barely in a whisper, and walked out the door into the night without another word.
Anya Jenkins stared after her for a moment before turning back to the group. She knew she should say something, but couldn't. And she didn't think they wanted to hear it, either. Saying goodbye to them, saying thank you, thank you for everything they had done for her, for giving her a second chance, was accepting that the end was near.
But she said it with her eyes, and with a smile, and they understood. She nodded, and joined Tara Maclay out of the townhouse.
The final hours would best be left unsaid. The words exchanged, the kisses, the touches, the comfort of each other's arms.
What can be said, probably the worst of it all, was that Anya Jenkins was continuously receiving the memories from another reality. And the last hour or so was worst, as the memories began to mesh, to meld, and to eventually replace what she once knew. Part of her wanted to be with Tara, but there was an increasingly strengthening part of her mind that said no. Tara wasn't hers; she belonged to someone else. Even if the two witches had broken up a few weeks ago, Anya knew that the spark was still there, that the spark was definitely still alive at the wedding, and what the two of them were doing right now, giving each other girl orgasms, was cheating, pure and simple. She didn't really care what Buffy or Dawn or even Hallie thought of the situation, but if Willow ever found out what Anya and Tara were doing, if Willow, getting so much scarier as she delved deeper and deeper into magic, ever learned that Anya was having lesbian sex with her ex-girlfriend so soon after Xander walked away from the altar...
Stop it, Anya screamed as her body insisted on pulling away. Don't listen to your mind. Listen to your heart, and your soul, and your body, this is your Tara, this is your love, and...
Fifteen minutes later, as the sun set, Tara Maclay's arms closed together around air, and Anya Jenkins disappeared.
Anyanka had barely cleaned the last of the blood from her arms when a knock came at her apartment door.
"Coming!" she yelled, deciding nervously if she should take a few seconds to throw on a t-shirt and shorts or just open the door to see how much her girlfriend blushed when she saw her in just her bathrobe.
"Okay," she heard quietly from the hallway.
Is she my girlfriend? Anya thought as she decided on a compromise: T-shirt and shorts, but no bra. That'll get her.
They had been hanging out since September, but it was only two weeks since they had actually gone on their first official date. They were close, sure, but as far as Anya could tell, they were still just dating. No kissing yet, no naked fun time, no orgasms. So maybe they weren't exactly girlfriend and girlfriend yet in the modern sense of the word. Not that Tara would be ready to take any of those steps any time soon. Cute, adorable, smart, powerful, but so flippin' shy that she still turned various shades whenever they touched hands, which was as far as the two had gotten since they met.
Anya opened the door and saw Tara's face light up like a Christmas tree.
She's so cute when she blushes.
Okay, so maybe she is my girlfriend.
"Come on in," Anya said, taking a quick glance down as Tara passed by her.
Ah, she thought as she closed the door. Pokey nips. No wonder she's a quivering heap.
"How are you doing?" asked Anya as Tara set her book bag down on Anya's kitchen table. "How was school?"
"Fine," Tara said very quietly, daring to look at her. "It w-w-w-w-w-w-"
"Do you want me to change?" Anya said. "Seriously, I was trying to see how you'd react, but if you're going to be unable to talk the entire night..."
Tara shook her head furiously, "I'll...I-I-I-I-I'll be fine," she stammered. "Just... Just a shock..."
"You sure? Cuz I could grab a sweatshirt."
"N-n-no," said Tara. "You... You look nice."
"Thanks," said Anya with a warm smile. "You look really nice, too."
Tara smiled and blushed again in response to the compliment, absently straightening her skirt. "How was w-w-w-work?"
I got to tear a guy's hands off, Anya wanted to say. It was fun.
"Oh, you know," Anya shrugged. "Customer service. Same old same old."
And, yes, telling lies about what you do for a living is extremely healthy in a relationship.
"So are you hungry? Where do you want to go for dinner?"
Tara opened her mouth, looking like she wanted to speak, but pulled away at the last minute, turning back to her book bag with another bashful laugh.
"What?" said Anya, stepping forward. "Tara, I know you. I know you have something you want to say."
"D-d-d-do you want to stay in?" she mumbled, opening her book bag. "I b-b-brought a movie, maybe we..."
"Sit on the couch and watch a movie?" said Anya, feigning amazement. "Actually have a date that doesn't involve going out in public where we have to be forced into some sort of modicum of decency?"
And it was the truth. The few times they had gotten together after their first date, Tara always clammed up and got jittery whenever Anya suggested staying in for some intimate time. I have no idea what happened to her in the past, Anya thought, but she's shy in public, she's nervous when we're alone. Bad combination.
"I r-r-r-rented Belle of the Nineties," she said, pulling out a video cassette from her bag. "They...They didn't have it at the festival, and it's my f-f-favorite."
But she's getting better all the time.
"Movie's great," said Anya, grabbing the phone. "Do you like Thai?"
Tara nodded, then silently skittered into the living room with a speed that told Anya that she was trying to keep things moving before she talked herself out of a night in. Anya chuckled softly, ordered pad thai, Masaman curry, and steamed vegetables for delivery, then joined Tara on the couch. Having already found Anya's VCR, Tara had loaded in the cassette and was currently huddled under one of Anya's blankets, curled as far into one corner of the couch as was possible.
"You planning on sitting there all night?" asked Anya as she sat down beside her.
"Sorry," Tara said. "I'm just n-n-n--"
"So I gathered," said Anya. "I promise I won't bite."
Tara turned to look at the screen, where the opening credits were rolling, and audibly swallowed before slowly releasing herself from her fetal position. Inch by inch she moved closer to Anya as the movie progressed, constantly straightening her long skirt, and when Anya threw her arm over the back of the couch, Tara took found a great leap of courage and pushed herself into Anya's circle, leaning against her side.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" said Anya, smelling the flowery scent of Tara's hair.
"It was," said Tara. "It r-r-really was."
"Is this your first time?" asked Anya. "Am I your first?"
"N-n-no," Tara said with a shake of her head. "I had a g-g-girlfriend in high school. It ended badly."
"What happened? I mean, if you want to talk about it."
Tara hesitated, and Anya could feel her shoulders tighten. "My family didn't like her," she said finally. "And she didn't like my family."
"Oh," said Anya, deciding to not press the issue. When Tara wanted to talk about it, she would.
"What about you?" asked Tara. "You seem... seem comfortable."
"Well, um," Anya said carefully. "I haven't really had much experience with women or men. I've only had one boyfriend, and he was a real troll. And women... Well, I guess I've always found an attraction, I've always found myself connecting with other women more than with other men. But I just haven't had time to really explore it."
"I'm...I'm not an ex...experiment, am I?" Tara looked up at Anya doubtfully, and Anya realized where a lot of the girls nerves were coming from. Small-town girl, probably not a lot of opportunities for a lesbian to find love. Something told Anya that Tara's girlfriend wasn't the only girl she had been with, just the only one who hadn't treated her like a test drive, only to be turned back in if they decided they preferred driving stick.
"I've met enough bad men where I've been turned off of them forever," said Anya. "Lots of bad stories passed around. I prefer women."
"Okay," said Tara, and Anya felt a warm rush at the relief on her face.
"But I will say that I've only been with another girl once," said Anya, "a few years ago."
Or a few decades ago.
"And if you ever ask Hallie about that one night of drunken debauchery, I promise I'll be cranky."
"I promise," said Tara. "Who's Hallie?"
"My best friend," said Anya. "We've known each other for years, but she lives out of town, doesn't come in too often. You'll meet her sometime, I think you'll like her."
"I'd...I'd like that," said Tara, and smiled so softly that Anya couldn't help herself: She bent over and kissed the girl on the lips. She felt Tara tense up again, felt the tension reach her lips, and she pulled back.
"Too much?" asked Anya.
Tara shook her head. "It was n-n-nice," she said, breathless "Just... Did I m-m-mention nervous?"
"Okay," said Anya, pushing Tara's hair back from her face, the first of many times she would do that in the next two years. "Your pace, okay?"
"I'm trying," she said earnestly. "I'm t-t-trying to be more like you."
Anya pulled back with an arched eyebrow. "Don't know if I'm a role model, lady."
"I just...I just mean, you s-s-say what's on your mind. You d-d-do what you feel is right, never mind the consequences. I wish I could be more like that, l-l-like you were at the Wicca circle."
Anya laughed. "Funny you should say that," she said, "considering that I've been holding back ever since I met you."
"Y-y-y-you shouldn't," said Tara with a shake of the head.
"Well, maybe I should a bit," said Anya. "Before I met you, I was a blunt instrument, not even caring what I said, just saying it without thinking, without giving a shit about how others looked at me or even thinking about the repercussions. I'm still that way, but, well... Maybe there's something to this modesty thing."
Tara smiled and snuggled up closer. "I guess we...we just have to find some c-c-c-common ground."
"I think we can meet somewhere in the middle," Anya replied softly, leaning in again. This time, however, it was Tara who moved the rest of the way, kissing Anya back with her soft, full lips.
And that was how they spent the next half hour. As the movie progressed unnoticed, the two girls eventually lay down beside each other on the couch, their lips almost never losing contact for more than a few seconds of whispered flirtations. Anya wanted to move so much faster, go so much further. After the initial feeling of horror at her immortality giving way to a slowly aging body, Anya had discovered that there was a lot more to the human body than she had remembered. Primarily the animalistic instincts that drove human desires: to eat, to sleep, to do a good day's hard work...
And to procreate.
Unlike most other demons, vengeance demons shared a common trait with vampires: they weren't born, they were created. As such, Anyanka's demon body had never had what humans called a biological clock, never had a need to have sexual relations with humans or with other vengeance demons.
She had, of course, on occasion. You didn't live as long as she did without thinking that it might be fun to bed a girl who summoned you or a man who was soon to have some sort of horrible affliction dealt to him. It was enjoyable, of course, but to vengeance demons like Anyanka and Halfrek it was a desire on par with a round of billiards or an extra helping of pudding. Fun, yes, but not a pastime you sought out regularly, or never insatiably.
Then she got her human body, and the urges were back. After being denied by D'Hoffryn, the human Anyanka found an apartment and spent almost a week doing nothing but eating, sleeping, and pleasuring herself. It was almost as though her body were saying "It's been a thousand years, baby. You've got some catching up to do!"
For a time these impulses almost consumed her completely. She thought the only way out was to get the amulet back again. And in a way that was true. It had been two weeks since she had returned to her position, and she was already feeling her animal instincts fading.
She told herself that that was the reason she was holding back as she kissed Tara. Why she wasn't tearing her clothes off and doing things that the two of them had only imagined. But she knew that wasn't right. Anya was falling for this girl. Hard. For the first time in centuries, Anya recognized, she was actually putting the feelings of someone else before her own. She didn't want to hurt Tara. Didn't want to scare her off, push her back into that shell again.
And so she held back the sexual charges that coursed through her as she lay beside this goddess, feeling the girl's full breasts pressed against her own, the large gold and green amulet pressed between them. Waited for Tara to make the next move, even if it meant that they'd leave tonight with their lips chapped and their clothing still sitting unmoved from their bodies.
As the voice of Mae West faintly argued with Roger Pryor in the background, Anya was surprised to feel Tara's warm hand against her side, touching bare skin after her t-shirt had been rucked up to her ribcage in their movements. Feeling she could press her luck, Anya moved her hand up, pulling aside Tara's cardigan sweater and gently cupping her breast beneath her gray blouse.
Tara tensed up momentarily at this turn of events, but quickly relaxed with a contented sigh that pushed those human hormones back into Anya's bloodstream. As if on cue, both girls redoubled their efforts, their kisses growing more and more intense, their hands moving up and down each other's bodies, until, with a pleasant shock, Anya felt Tara's hand venture beneath her shirt and up--
knock knock
"Food," Anya said into Tara's mouth. "Food's here."
"Mmm," Tara grunted. "Not yet..."
"The... the Thai man's outside," said Anya. "We shouldn't eep!" Anya flinched in pleasure as Tara's fingertips found one of those nipples that had been poking out all night.
Anya's squeak seemed to pull Tara back to reality. She looked at Anya with her eyes wide. "I'm s-s-s-sorry," she stammered, looking down at her legs, which were showing almost their entire bare length after her skirt had slid its way upwards during their bout. "I'm s-s-s-s-..."
"Tara, don't," said Anya quickly. "It was fine. You were fine."
"I don't... I don't know what got into me," she said, tugging her skirt back down again, her face now fire engine red.
"Did you hear me complaining?" Anya said with a wink and stood up. "I'll be there in a minute!" she yelled to the front door.
"I...I won't...I won't do it again, I p-p-p-"
"Oh, Lord, you'd better not say that," said Anya, digging through her purse for money. "I'm fully expecting to continue where we left off. I just assumed that it's not socially acceptable to answer the door naked, is all."
"Y-y-you want to... You want more?" Tara asked. "You thought... You liked it?"
Anya was amazed at the Tara's own dumbfounded amazement that a girl actually enjoyed being intimate with her. "If we don't touch a bite of our food for the next few hours it'll be a good night," she teased. "But I should really pay the guy."
"Okay," said Tara, but before Anya had left the living room the witch had already wrapped herself back up in the blanket and returned her nervous attention to the movie.
"I'm coming!" Anya yelled when the guy continued to pound on the door. She took a quick peek through the peephole long enough to see that it was a delivery girl, not a boy, before she unlocked the deadbolt.
Looking back on that night, Anya Jenkins realized that she should have known. Should have recognized the girl. But in Anya’s defense, she did look different from when she had last seen her. Edgier than before. Less prim and proper. Not nearly as much of a fashion guru as she was before Cordelia Chase had blamed her for all of her misfortune.
Besides, her mind had been fully on the girl sitting in the living room watching Mae West and Roger Pryor rescue Katherine DeMille from the clutches of the diabolical John Miljan. If she had known that Buffy Summers was standing on the other side of her door, the lives of Anya and Tara may have gone on a completely different path.
But she didn't know...
"Sorry I took so long," Anya said as she opened the door. "Twenty dollars going to be enough?"
"Should be more than enough, Anyanka," said the blonde girl. Anya looked up from her money, saw the Slayer for the first time, the long shining sword in her right hand, the crossbow in her left, and a dark-haired girl and the two men standing behind her, one of whom...
"You!" Anya screamed, slamming the door shut and backing away into the hall.
"Anya?" Tara called from the living room. "What's wrong?"
Shit shit shit, Anya thought frantically. What the hell am I going to do? In a normal situation like this, she could fight her way out. The Slayer took down Lothos and The Master, so Anya knew she could put up a hell of a fight if she needed. Plus the Englishman was with her, so she knew Anyanka's weakness. Normally, in the end Anya knew that she could still finish the Slayer. It wouldn't be the first time she had killed one, after all.
But that was a normal situation. Having Tara here made it anything but normal.
Forget her, her demon side ordered. She's expendable. If she gets caught in the crossfire, then she does. Hell, if she gets in the way, just toss her out the window. You're only four stories up, she might come out of it alive.
"Oh, fuck that," Anya said aloud seconds before her front door was smashed in by a well-placed Slayer kick. Anya looked around for a weapon as the four entered the apartment.
"Move quick, Buffy," said the other man, big and gruff with a bushy mustache. "She can teleport if she--"
"Got it," said the blonde, thrusting her sword at Anya, who barely avoided the attack before spinning into the kitchen.
I can't teleport, she thought, grabbing one of the knives from the block on her counter. Flight plan won't allow it. Shit.
"Anya?" she heard Tara yell, heard her footsteps as she ran towards the scene.
"Tara, stay back!" she screamed.
"Buffy!" came multiple voices at once, followed close behind by the twang of a crossbow and Tara's scream.
"No!" Anya howled, running back into the hall to see an arrow poking out of the wall, inches from where Tara must have been standing as she entered from the living room.
Not hurt, she thought with a wave of relief. She's not hurt, thank God...
"Buffy, she's not the target!" the Englishman yelled.
"She's with the demon, she's a target," said Buffy, raising her sword just in time to block a thrust from Anya's knife.
"If you hurt her..." Anya spat at the Slayer.
"Buffy, she might just be a girl," said the other girl. "Like Joan..."
"Fine!" Buffy relented, facing down Anya. "Go after her, make sure she's okay, make sure she doesn't make a wish."
"Right," said the dark-haired girl, running into the living room, leaving the others to face Anyanka, whose eyes had lit up with recognition.
"Joan," she said with a smirk. "Tall blond girl? Really pretty? Boyfriend who couldn't keep his hands to himself?"
"You took care of that, didn't you?" said Buffy as the two backed into the living room.
"Yeah, well, that's what I do," Anyanka chuckled. "Boy's hands loved his guitar and groping girls on the dance floor more than they loved touching her. What else could I do?"
"You tricked her," Buffy said. "She didn't know..."
"Well, he learned his lesson, didn't he? But, seriously, if I had known you and Stumpy were pals..."
"How?" asked English. "How did you get your power center back? I destroyed it..."
"Think again," said Anya. "Are we going to fight already? I'm antsy."
"Definitely," said Buffy, swinging her sword at the vengeance demon.
Anya fought the best that she could. Later she convinced herself that she could have won the fight, could have pulled the sword from the Slayer's hand and sent her severed head soaring through the window.
In a one-on-one fight she could have won easily. But her mind kept sliding to Tara, huddled in the corner, and the raven-haired girl kneeling beside her, desperately trying to pull her away from the scene.
"We gotta go," she heard the girl say. "Listen, lady, we gotta get going, we ain't safe here..."
Anya saw the fear in Tara's eyes. The shock. But also the commitment. As long as Anya was there, she wasn't going anywhere. In fact, Anya saw the witch's mouth moving silently, and she smirked.
That's it, baby, she thought, turning back to Buffy. Cast us some spells...
Anya jumped at Buffy. Buffy jumped at Anya.
"Thicken!"
Anya felt herself fly backwards as she bounced off what felt like solid air, crashing into the bookcase, which collapsed in a shattered pile of videocassettes. She saw the Slayer soar in the other direction, slamming into the couch, which flipped onto its back with the impact. In the middle, Tara Maclay stood with her hand stretched out.
"What's going on?" she asked Anya, panting with exertion from the spell. "Anya, what's happening?"
"Look, Tara, right? We gotta go," said the dark-haired girl, now sounding dubious of the words coming out of her mouth. "Seriously, I guess you... I guess you can take care of yourself, but you don't wanna be here..."
"I'm not going anywhere," said Tara, looking back and forth between the two downed combatants.
"She's a witch," said the burly man.
"Yes, Merrick, thank you for that observation," said English. "Buffy, the amulet!"
"On it," said the Slayer, trying to extricate herself from the flipped couch. Anya knew she should prepare defend herself, but her body wasn't moving that well itself.
"Thicken!" Tara yelled again, and the air rippled between Buffy and Anya. "Don't hurt her!"
"You don't know what you're doing," said Buffy to the witch. "You don't know what she--"
And when the lights went out, things went from bad to worse.
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