Highlander does not belong to me. Buffy the Vampire Slayer does not belong to me. I gain no profit from the creation of this story beyond personal writing experience.A/N:
Buffy Summers led a very interesting life before she wound up in Sunnydale. In fact, she led an almost too
interesting life. How… Interesting.
--Unknown Island, 497 B.C.
Elissa glared around herself with disdain. Of course this would happen. Wasn’t it just her luck to end up stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere with no idea how she’d gotten there?
“Why?” she asked the heavens.
They declined to respond.
She stuck her tongue out at them. Immature, perhaps, but she wasn’t in the best of moods at the moment. It appeared she might have to swim back, and while she was a capable swimmer, she actively disliked it. Not to mention the fact that she had no idea which direction to go.
And she still didn’t know how she’d gotten here.
“Well, actually, that’s a funny story,” said the Spirit.
Elissa spun around and smacked him through the head.
“Hey!” he protested. “That tickled!”
Elissa rolled her eyes and thought nasty, anatomically incorrect things at him. He winced.
“Sorry,” he said, contrite. “Let’s enjoy the sunrise, shall we? Word is that it’ll be spectacular from here.”
“What’s going on?” asked Elissa, allowing herself to be led toward the shore. She settled cross-legged on the sand shoulder to shoulder with the Spirit. “I wish you’d tell me.”
The Spirit winced. “Well, see, there’s that word.”
“What?” asked Elissa, lifting an eyebrow.
“You wished,” said the Spirit, as though that explained everything. Elissa gestured for him to explain more. “Remember that really nice, attentive woman you were talking to last night? The one you thought might be a demon?”
“She was the one in black, right?”
“They were all in black,” the Spirit pointed out, “but yes, you’re thinking of the right one. She’s what we like to call a vengeance demon. Generally, she just grants wishes that hurt people or create chaos. Tonight was her night off – she granted your wish just for fun.”
“Lucky me?” asked Elissa, still not quite understanding what the Spirit was driving at.
“She thought your wish was entertaining, so she decided to grant it. You’ve been cursed, darling.”
“Onto an abandoned island?” Elissa watched the sunrise. It was spectacular. “Doesn’t seem so
bad,” she admitted.
“Oh, no. The island was me. I thought you’d enjoy the view.” The Spirit sounded almost sheepish.
“You aren’t making sense,” Elissa said mildly. “First you say wish, then curse, then kidnapping – although that part is apparently unrelated. Make up your mind.”
“Not all wishes are happy,” said the Spirit, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out in front of him. “You’ve got good wishes, bad wishes, death wishes… Yours was a, let’s say, stupid
Elissa smacked him through the shoulder and huffed in affront. He winced for her benefit, but shrugged. “It’s true,” he defended. “It was stupid. You’re probably going to regret it, and even if you
will, because I’ll
have to clean up after you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Elissa as her mind began cataloguing all the times that she’d been in situations that required help from the Spirit. The Spirit raised an eyebrow, but Elissa stubbornly began thinking about something else without recanting her statement.
The Spirit shook his head and smiled indulgently before getting back to the argument at hand. “Really, Eshe, you need to learn to think before you speak.”
She thought strongly about that statement, and the Spirit chuckled. “Yes,” he said, “I get it. Sorry. Let me rephrase that: you need to think before you wish
. Or better yet, don’t wish. Wishing is bad. Remove that word from your vocabulary—s, plural,” he added as an afterthought. “Taboo in all languages.”
“What exactly did I w—”
“No,” said the Spirit. Elissa scowled.
“I was just going to ask what I w—”
“Uh uh,” said the Spirit. “Stop,” he added quickly, “Don’t even think
Elissa growled and thought more anatomically impossible things at him.
“I WISH,” she said loudly over his protests, “that I could physically harm you to my heart’s content.” She paused for a beat, then smacked him. She huffed in disappointment when her hand passed through his head as usual.
“No respect,” grumbled the Spirit.
“So what did I request
?” asked Elissa. The Spirit beamed.
“See, not so hard,” he said brightly. “And you requested
, and I quote: ‘I wish I could meet the movers and shakers; experience the world growing and changing from the heart of it all,’
Elissa thought it was very creepy how exactly the Spirit could mimic her voice, but she didn’t let that phenomena distract her for long.
“I don’t see the problem,” said Elissa, who could
vaguely recall making such an announcement. “I’m bored—or, at least I was
bored until I was magically kidnapped to a deserted island without so much as a ‘by your leave’.”
The Spirit sighed and gave her the ‘I-am-older-and-wiser-than-you-so-you-should-have-more-respect-for-me’ look. “And how many times have you complained about being a trouble magnet? Well, honey, you just asked to be one for real—literally. Your wish was granted. You are going to attract ‘interesting’ – translate ‘trouble
’ – like never before.”
“Oh,” said Elissa. She blinked.
“Yes,” agreed the Spirit, who could read her mind. “Oh.”
--France, 1789 A.D.
“You’re a vengeance demon,” said Lisette.
The pretty brunette looked surprised. “Why, yes,” she agreed. “And you’re a… Actually, I don’t know what you are. Strange.”
“Yes,” agreed Lisette. “Very strange.” She did not volunteer the answer to the unasked question.
“Did you need something?” the demon asked after a moment of awkward silence. “An untrue lover disemboweled, perhaps? A cruel husband turned into a troll?” She smiled hopefully.
“No, thank you,” said Lisette. More silence. The demon shifted uncomfortably.
“Well, this is very awkward,” she announced. “You are staring at me in a very forthright manner, and yet you do not appear to want anything from me. Are you stupid? Or mad? Is there someone else you can bother?”
“No,” said Lisette. Her smile was not reassuring or
“I’m leaving now,” said the demon.
“I wish you would stay,” Lisette said with a saccharine smile.
“What?” The demon said, surprised. “Oh dear. You didn’t…” Lisette continued to smile sweetly. “Oh bunny rabbits,” cursed the demon. “What do
you need? This is very unprofessional, you know.”
“I’m looking for Meshea. Short woman whose face turns veiny when you say the W-word in her presence.”
“Oh,” frowned the demon. “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place? I don’t think she’s in my department. I don’t know her. What is she the patron of?”
“Getting on the nerves of powerful being,” said Lisette, “apparently. I’m tired of this curse. If she doesn’t lift it, I’m afraid I will have to hunt down and destroy every vengeance demon I can find.” Lisette batted her eyes and gave a coy smile. “Present company included, of course.”
The demon increased her not-so-surreptitious search for escape routes. “Er,” said the demon, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Please do,” said Lisette pleasantly. “I wish you free of my geas.”
The demon disappeared.
Then she reappeared. “That shouldn’t have worked,” she accused. “You can’t wish from me against me!”
Lisette fluttered her hand dismissively. “Magic,” she explained.
The demon frowned, shrugged, then disappeared again. Three days later, Lisette was free from her curse—and not a moment too soon. Bidding her young friend Napoleon a fond farewell and good luck in his ambitions, Lisette headed toward America to recuperate from the last two, very busy, millennia.
When Anyanka came to Sunnydale, it was with the expectation that the Hellmouth had
to be chock full of disgruntled women willing to wish against their male counterparts.
“Three wishes,” D’Hoffryn told her, smiling as genially as he was able. “Get three wishes on the Hellmouth. Be careful, though: your powers are increased there, but so are everyone else’s. Have fun!”
The first wish that Anyanka granted was to a middle aged housewife who had just found out – no help from Anyanka, of course
– that her husband was sleeping with one of his male high school students. The wish was made within an hour of her arrival, and was particularly satisfying.
She had been gearing up for a second wish when she had caught sight of HER. Anyanka hadn’t seen HER since shortly after the outbreak of the French Revolution. Anyanka had hoped SHE was dead. To see the tiny blonde menace here, on the Hellmouth, made Anyanka very nervous. So she went undercover at the local high school. After all, that was the last place the other demon was likely to go.
But Anyanka’s luck was apparently nonexistent.
At first she stringently avoided the blonde – Buffy Summers, her classmates said. Then they ran into each other in the hall, and ‘Buffy’ appeared to have no idea who Anyanka was – though she did
appear to have some idea of what
the demon was.
Anyanka escaped that first meeting unscathed, but continued to tread very carefully. Rumor held that this girl was the Slayer, even though Anyanka knew that was impossible. Still, Buffy appeared to be a demon that hunted other demons, and Anyanka intended to avoid attracting HER attention as much as possible.
After what the blonde had done to poor Meshea…
Anyanka granted her second wish without trouble. One of the teachers wished that her (ex-) boyfriend’s balls would turn green and fall off and that he would know what it felt like to be a woman. Anyanka had fun.
Third turned out to be the tricky one. She found the perfect candidate: a beautiful cheerleader who had sacrificed her popularity to be with a boy, who then repaid her kindness by making out with another girl in front of aforementioned cheerleader.
Anyanka was currently talking to Cordelia in the quad. Or, more accurately, Anyanka was currently nodding along to Cordelia’s rant, waiting impatiently for the words ‘I wish’ to drop from the teen’s lips. It was taking a while.
“In fact, I wish,”
Yeeees, thought Anyanka.
“-that Buffy Summers never-”Whoa!
Anyanka’s mind screeched to a halt. Cordelia was supposed to make a wish against that Xander fellow, not the blonde menace!
“What about Xander?” Anyanka interrupted before Cordelia could finish her wish.
“I wish he had never met Bu-”
“Didn’t he kiss Willow
?” Anyanka interrupted desperately.
“But its all Buffy’s
fault,” complained Cordelia. And then her rant was off again, with plenty of ill-wishing – but without the wishing part. Anyanka sighed. Still, better this than accidentally crossing the Buffy-demon.
Three nights later she was at the Bronze, looking for a convenient scorned woman to avenge. She almost literally ran into the little blonde demon girl.
“You’re the new student,” said Buffy.
“Yes,” said Anyanka. “I’m Anya.”
“You’re a demon,” said Buffy, cocking her head to the side.
“Mostly harmless,” Anyanka hastily assured her.
“Really?” Buffy appeared to consider this. “Your necklace is giving me the wiggins.”
And before Anyanka could say a word, the blonde had broken the pendent and Anya felt her powers draining. Buffy was about to attack in earnest, but paused.
“You don’t feel like a demon anymore,” she said, confused.
Anya put her hands on her hips and glared for all she was worth. “That is because I’m not
anymore. Damn,” she cursed. “Just my luck.”
Anya found Buffy very strange. Despite looking and acting in the same manner the ex-demon recalled, the blonde did not appear to remember their previous interactions. In fact, she appeared to be completely unaware of the fact that she had lived through the French Revolution – which had always struck Anya as a difficult period to forget, what with all the running around and chopping off heads.
When Anya overheard Buffy telling Giles about dreaming the assassination of Julius Caesar, she felt reasonably nervous. They were friends now, yes, but who knew what might happen if Buffy began to remember! And what had made her forget in the first place? If it had been a vengeance demon who put the forgetting spell on her…
Anya worried. What would happen if – when
– Buffy remembered? Would Buffy tell Xander? Would it change anything? He already knew she had been a vengeance demon, after all.
Anya continued to act the same around Buffy. It would change or it wouldn’t. There was nothing Anya could do about it, so she might as well get as many orgasms out of her fiancé as possible.
One day, Buffy regarded Anya with the strangest look in her eye.
“What?” asked Anya, staring right back. “Do I have something on my nose?”
“Nothing,” Buffy shook her head. “Sorry. Weird dreams. And I thought togas were bad… As long as Giles doesn’t show up in a suit of tweed armor, I’m good
And that was that.
Maybe I do have luck after all, thought Anya, counting her money with a pleased smile. Just maybe.