Pairing: Anya/Lacroix/Janette (NonShip)
Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy or Forever Knight. Buffy and related characters belong to Whedon. Forever Knight and related characters belong to TriStar, CBS, and Mr. Cohen.
Warnings: Light swearing; Light sexual references
A/N: This is set pre-series Forever Knight. Well, actually, it’s inspired by a flashback within the series, but you’ll figure it out ;) And it’s pre-series for Buffy as well. The title of this fic is inspired by the song of the same title by the Eurythmic’s. Hope you enjoy!
"You’ve heard it said that ‘living well is the best revenge’? Au contraire. Living forever is the best revenge.”
“I know what you are,” Anyanka said, sliding into the seat across from the pale-haired Lacroix.
He arched a brow at her, curling a hand up to rest under his chin.
“Whatever do you mean, my dear?” he asked. With a charming smile, he gestured about the busy tavern, “I’m but another patron in this establishment as I pass through this charming little city.”
Anyanka grinned, pulling her brown woolen cloak down farther over her shoulders. She peeked out from under her large hood, allowing Lacroix to glimpse her demon face. His eyes went wide for a moment, surprised, before he replaced it with another smile.
“A creature of the night… like myself,” he said, leaning back in the chair.
“I’m not restricted to the night, Lacroix. I’m a vengeance demon, and I’m here on business.”
Lacroix laughed. “I suppose that there are many who would wish vengeance on me.”
The demon grinned, shoving her hood back as her face took on its more human form. She pushed her heavy chocolate locks over her shoulder and shook her head.
“Let me tell you a story.”#Anyanka had been summoned quite a bit to this little French city. It was renowned for its vast choice in brothels, and that was where she would usually appear. She had come upon many a sobbing whore—for lack of a better term—the poor women wishing vengeance on a man who had sworn to take them away from all of it, who had beaten them, or who had refused to pay them. But this time, the scene that lay out in front of the vengeance demon was different.
The woman had introduced herself, through her tears, as Janette. And she was leaning over the body of her dearest friend, Anna. Janette was fully aware of Anyanka’s demon status and had summoned her as such. She had yet to make a wish, and Anyanka was patient, knowing that one was coming from the poor woman.
“Would you like me to bring Anna back to life? I can do that,” the demon offered in French, but Janette shook her head.
this life? I would sooner wish her into Hell. No. I want vengeance. I want vengeance on Daviau, the
bastard that did this,” Janette said.
She paused here, her grief too strong as her sobbing grew. She leaned over Anna’s body, shaking her head.
“She was pregnant,” Janette explained, repeating the sentence over and over.
Anyanka’s jaw was set.
This was exactly why she had become a vengeance demon. She crouched down beside Janette, wrapping a comforting arm about the woman’s shoulders.
“I can unleash the tortures of Hell upon Daviau. All you have to do is wish it, Janette.”
But Janette shook her head. “No. I wish that
I had the power to exact vengeance on that son of a rat. I wish that no man will ever be able to harm me, or anyone like me, ever again.”#
They had left the warmth of the tavern, walking along the dark roads fearlessly as only a vampire and demon could. Anyanka came to a stop, holding up a hand for Lacroix to do so as well.
“So you see, you’re a means to an end. You can turn her into a vampire and give her the power she requires. And I think this would be exactly what she would want,” she explained.
“What you ask is not something to be taken lightly, and something I’ve never
been forced to do. I’ll not start now,” Lacroix said, sneering.
In the distance, cries of help echoed through the night, the anger and fear behind them drawing even Lacroix’s eyes. Anyanka grinned.
“Why don’t you look upon Janette now, as she deals with her troubles? Then you can make up your own mind.”
Lacroix stepped forward, watching as the dark haired prostitute cried out against her captor like an animal cornered. All too soon, rage fueled her, and she leaned down, biting hard into the shoulder of the man who was attempting to rape her. He cried out, and she took her opportunity to duck under him. Before Anyanka could say anything more, Lacroix was on the man, draining him of his life’s blood under the shadow of his cloak in a moment, while Janette looked on, fear and curiosity dancing on the edge of her eyes.
Lacroix turned, intrigued eyes trailing onto her. She gasped, running away. But Anyanka grinned. She had known enough vampires in her time to know what the glow in Lacroix’s eyes meant. She was finished here.
“Wish granted,” the demon said before vanishing.“The best revenge, is revenge,”
–Janette, after killing Daviau.
Disclaimer: I don't own the images used here.