Who ya gonna call? ...A...Vengeance Demon? {open}

[Anya]

Anya really didn't see the point of this stupid Halloween thing.

Xander had told her it was about dressing up and looking scary. But that one year, when she'd chosen that horrific bunny outfit to wear, everyone had looked at her funny...but what was she supposed to do? She'd browsed the costume selection out there plenty of times. A majority of the ridiculous little things weren't even vaguely frightening, and the few that were...well, she just found those downright offensive because they were more often than not labeled as 'demons' or 'monsters' (apparently humans felt that those two words were interchangeable).

"And don't even get me started on the whole Trick-or-Treating thing," she chattered to the rather confused looking farmer that plodded on beside her. "There's nothing fun about greedy little children rampaging onto your property and demanding more candy and sugar than their twitchy miniature-human selves can handle. I mean, who comes up with these ridiculous traditions?" Anya paused in her ranting just long enough to cast an indignant glance over at the straw-hatted man, who sniffed a little, looked over at her, and gave an awkward shrug in response. Taking no notice of his silence, the demon opened her mouth to continue - and that was when (speak of the freakin' devil) a couple of the little brats pushed past her and barreled toward the entrance of the 'corn maze' that the farmer had evidently opened to the public.

"Hey! Watch it, you mangy little ankle-biters!" Alright. So...maybe Anya wasn't in the best of moods today. Well, she wasn't the most kid-friendly formerly-evil vengeance demon on the best of days, but today especially. But that was only because she'd been dragged all the way out hear to the middle of freakin' nowheresville to participate in some stupid maze thing that apparently had some sort of....demonic curse placed upon it. Not that Anya was on call for that sort of thing. In fact when Giles, who'd apparently heard tell of the recent deaths that had occurred here, had called her about this, it hadn't been with a pleading 'Is there anything you can do to help?'. No...it had actually been more of a stern 'Anya, are you in any way responsible for this?' ...Of all the nerve! Just because she was a vengeance demon didn't automatically mean she was responsible for every demonic curse that happened to befall humanity!

And of course, when she'd assured the Watcher on no uncertain terms that she had absolutely nothing to do with it, he'd asked her to go see if she couldn't put a stop to it anyway. Anya really didn't see why Giles couldn't do it himself - something about 'Kansas being a very long way away from England' and 'Anya, you can teleport'...pfft, whatever, he was just making excuses! But she was here now, and so...she figured she might as well look for a way to end this nonsense once and for all. "So you said you've seen the thing that's been killing people?" she asked the farmer at length.

The farmer gave a wheezy cough and tipped his hat to block out the evening sun. "Yup." he replied. "I'm a-tellin' you, Annie--"

"Anya." she corrected dryly.

"...It was the scarecrow. The scarecrow come'd to life."

The vengeance demon had heard some...very strange things in her time, but really. Really. All she could do was stare blankly at him. "...Yes. Of course. The scarecrow. And...as far as I can see, this place is still crawling with obnoxious little children just waiting to be brutally maimed. Why haven't you closed your maze down yet?"

The farmer blinked lazily at her. "Well in case you didn't know, Emma -"

"Anya."

"...It ain't my maze. The aliens made it. Can't close it without their say so."

"....The....aliens...."

"That's just about the size of it." They stopped short at the maze's entrance, and the farmer pushed a flashlight into her hands. "Now Audrey, you mozy on in there and be careful now, ya hear? You'll find that scarecrow at the center of the maze." He clapped her on the shoulder and simultaneously used his hand to shove her forward. Anya stumbled a step, and then regained her footing quickly enough to inch into the maze of her own accord. About eight feet of corn stalk rose before her, and two immediate choices - left or right.

"Left!" called the farmer.

She blinked, and headed for the left turn.

"Naww, Amy! MY left!"

...Oh, whatever....

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock Holmes was doing battle with a Scarecrow.

A rather intriguing {if somewhat ridiculous} case had somehow managed to bring Sherlock to Kansas. The very prospect of what he'd been told was so... appallingly daft that Sherlock simply had to investigate. He'd been told that four children and three adults had been murdered in a corn maze. Sherlock had instantly cast it off as a crazed murderer hiding in the corn and nearly berated the man who was reporting for giving him such a simple case... until they mentioned the living Scarecrow. That that point, Sherlock had once again dismissed it, this time as a man hiding inside of the Scarecrow.

However, the man had pointed out that there was no way someone could get inside of the Scarecrow without leaving evidence. The man was stupidly insistent. Obviously, the culprit could have taken the Scarecrow apart, worn it's clothes and, once he was done with the murders, put the Scarecrow back together. It was a painfully obvious and boring case. But, they apparently had cameras nearby the Scarecrow. Nobody had gone in or out of it. At that point, Sherlock's interest was piqued and he'd gone down to Kansas just the next day.

The weather was decidedly different from that in London. Sherlock had anticipated it, of course, but that didn't stop it from being hot. The heat very near clouded Sherlock's mind. Thankfully, he wasn't about to allow himself to be bothered by a bit of... alright, an enormous wave of heat. He hadn't packed for the weather either, so he was stuck in his normal clothes, which made the heat even more incessant. The corn maze had been easy to get through. A mind like Sherlock's could deduce what every twist and turn would lead to.

And that was how Sherlock Holmes ended up locked in battle with a sentient Scarecrow. The battle had begun with a swift punch to the Scarecrow's chest. The Scarecrow had returned with a powerful blow to Sherlock's chest, which had sent him back against a wall of corn. Thankfully, Sherlock had packed a gun with him for this case. Sherlock stood, aiming his pistol at the Scarecrow's shoulder. If he could shoot that off he'd be getting rid of an important part of the Scarecrow's fighting style.

Sherlock fired the pistol, but it didn't seem to do as good as he'd wanted. It did indeed hit it's mark, getting the Scarecrow right in the shoulder. However, it hadn't blasted the arm off like it should have. Of course, the magical Scarecrow would have the ability to heal itself. Sherlock rolled his eyes and aimed a kick at the Scarecrow's chest. He was trying to be careful not to damage it too much. If he did so, he'd have no way to find out how it was living.

This is the perfect case for Halloween, isn't it? Sherlock thought dryly.

[Anya]

The trouble with teleporting was, it wasn't nearly as easy as it looked. You couldn't just wish yourself someplace, and then poof - no, you had to envision it. Envision either the place you wanted to reach itself, or the person you wanted to find. But since Anya had absolutely no idea what this center of the maze, or this 'scarecrow' was supposed to look like, she was stuck...navigating on foot. Through an obnoxiously complicated corn maze. Did people actually do this for fun? What was so fun about being lost? She shook her head slowly - at least she was free of that lunatic farmer. That was something.

"Hey, lady!" called some gap-toothed eight year-old kid at random. "I'll get you through the maze for ten bucks!"

Anya carefully stepped around the little twerp, eying him irritably. "Scram, half-pint. You can't have my money." she grumbled in response. Besides, evidently this maze was very dangerous - she couldn't just bring some kid along with her.

"Aw, c'mon," the kid persisted. "You're not even close yet. It'll take you like, two bazillion years to get outta here at this rate."

"That," Anya snapped, continuing forward without so much as glancing at her little tag-along. "...Is ridiculous! There's no way I'm going to live two bazillion years. Besides, I don't care about getting out - I'm just looking for the center of the maze."

The kid seemed to deflate a little. "Oh. Well geez, you're practically there already."

It took a moment for his words to register - and by the time they did, she'd already rounded the next corner to find...the scarecrow. Fully animated. And locked in battle with was that a human? A human who seemed to be...very calmly fighting off a murderous object that shouldn't have been able to fight at all. Well! This was a new development! "Um, run." Anya told the kid quickly, before stepping forward, aiming carefully so as not to hit the man - and sending several sparks of hellfire flying from her fingertips and onto the scarecrow's back, where they quickly ignited.

"Whoops," she couldn't help but give a cheeky grin. "Don't like fire very much, do you?"

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock's kick had very little effect on the scarecrow. It simply continued advancing, swiping at Sherlock with it's long arms. For a moment, Sherlock began to wonder why it was so strong - it was made entirely of straw. Sherlock decided to throw all logic in this situation. He was fighting what seemed to be a magical living scarecrow, after all. Obviously, he wasn't about to throw strategy away... The scarecrow had regenerative abilities, so stabbing or shooting would not do much at all. However, Sherlock wanted to investigate the scarecrow, so he couldn't quite destroy it with fire.

Sherlock decided that it would be far easier to simply take it down with punches and kicks. It would eventually be unable to get up... But that was before the scarecrow suddenly burst into flames. Sherlock scowled, watching as the creature fell to the ground, screeching and flailing it's firey limbs. Spontaneous combustion was not entirely ruled out, but it would make very little sense. The culprit seemed to be standing behind where the scarecrow had been. No doubt she'd used a lighter of some sort when the scarecrow had been distracted by the battle.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, staring down at the pile of ashes that once was the scarecrow. Could she not see that he was trying to investigate here? Sherlock took a step towards Anya, making sure he didn't step on the ashes. Perhaps there would be something salvageable there.

[Anya]

The hellfire seemed to have done the trick - that scarecrow wasn't getting up any time soon. Anya carefully maneuvered herself out of the way of the flame, keeping a close eye on the burning straw remains - they were in a cornfield after all; if the fire got out of control it wouldn't be too pretty. ...And speaking of sticky situations, it only just now occurred to her that she'd used magic. In front of a human. Nice going. Stepping forward to stamp out what was left of the fire, Anya looked up and cast the man a cautious glance. He...actually didn't seem all that surprised. Perhaps he hadn't realized that the fire had come from her hands? If that was the case, she'd certainly allow him to go right on believing it - then again, she was talking about a man who'd just been locked in battle with a living scarecrow. Maybe a vengeance demon wouldn't be all that surprising to him.

And what was with that question, anyway? Of all things, Anya certainly hadn't been expecting a 'what are you doing?' in response to saving his life. She blinked once at him puzzled. "Um. It's a scarecrow, if you didn't notice - well, it was." On the rare occasion that something made of straw was attacking you, wouldn't anyone's first thought be to light it up? "And it was trying to kill you, the same way it killed the rest of its victims. Soooo it made sense to set it on fire!" Anya nodded once, satisfied with the results of her attack. That had been surprisingly easy, actually - though she knew she was far from done yet. Scarecrows didn't just get up and walk around at random. This one had been cursed, according to Giles. And whoever was responsible probably wasn't just going to sit back and relax because one of their plans had been foiled.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and her gaze dropped to consider the smoking pile of ashes again. Hmm...if the scarecrow were cursed...then there were two possibilities: one, a demon had cursed it. Like...another vengeance demon, maybe? But that just didn't make sense! Who would they be seeking vengeance against? Maybe a witch had been responsible instead - but if that were the case, there had to be...some kind of artifact around here that they'd been channeling the curse through. Anya used one food to sift through the ashes, and feeling something solid under her foot, stepped back. Something shiny glinted in the setting sunlight, and with another apprehensive glance at the man, she quickly bent down to swipe it up in some vain hope that he wouldn't notice.

"So, you're okay, right? You don't look injured. Or...even remotely shaken..." she observed hesitantly, meeting his gaze briefly before glancing down at the object in her hand. A little silver brooch. If she'd been paying closer attention, she might've seen it pinned to the scarecrow's hat earlier.

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Clearly this woman would be far too difficult to work with for Sherlock to waste his time. However, he did need information on how that Scarecrow had been brought to life and it seemed that this woman was the only one who could provide some information on how it was possible for a scarecrow, an inanimate object constructed entirely of cloth and straw to be walking and attacking small children. Unfortunately, it seemed he would have to deal with her for the time being - at least until someone else {perhaps someone less annoying} came along.

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Sherlock asked as he placed his pistol inside of his coat pocket. For a moment he stared at her, incredulous. "Did it ever occur to you that, perhaps, I was investigating this Scarecrow? Now you've gone and destroyed all of the evidence." Sherlock glanced down at the pile of ash. Perhaps that would have some sort of evidence within it. Sherlock knelt down and started digging through the ashes. Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he did so. These ashes were different than how regular ashes would be, as if they were created from some strange sort of fire. Sherlock glanced up at Anya.

Her mannerisms were somewhat awkward, as if not human at all. She also hadn't been putting a lighter or weapon of any sort in her pocket after the fire had been created. She had some sort of bizarre control over fire. So many creatures had control over fire in myths... Sherlock couldn't quite place what she was just yet, but she was not human. "Yes, I'm fine." Sherlock began to put on a nice act. It may be possible into tempting her into revealing her true nature...

[Anya]

Anya could only stare blankly for a moment, a bit startled by the man's sharp words. ...Right. Well, since no thanks seemed to be forthcoming, she decided to simply dismiss him as ungrateful and leave it at that. Her gaze dropped to the pistol he was currently storing away in his pocket as she (quite seriously, in fact) considered whether or not she really did take him for an idiot. Sure, it might have been what most people considered a rhetorical question...but try telling that to the very literal vengeance demon. "Well, if you used that against the scarecrow, then yes." Anya bluntly decided on her answer, finally tearing her eyes off the pistol as it was tucked out of sight. "Which internal organs were you aiming for, exactly?" But her words were spoken mildly enough, as if there really wasn't much weight behind them - she wasn't trying to be snarky, she was just...being Anya.

"Anyway, to answer your other question: no. It didn't occur to me." Why would it have? The blonde narrowed her eyes slightly at the stranger before her, trying to imagine why on earth he'd take some half-crazed farmer's word that there a live scarecrow of all things was responsible for the recent murders here. Why would any normal human believe that? ...Even a normal law-enforcer human, if that was what he was. Anya shrugged it off. Whatever the case had been, the scarecrow was burnt to ashes now and there was no changing that. Why complain about it? "But I don't know what there is to investigate here anyway. Technically it was just a regular old scarecrow." Indeed, it hadn't been the scarecrow's fault - it had been the fault of whoever had enchanted it, and that was where the real evidence was.

...Buuut she didn't mention this little detail, and left her last vague comment at that. Couldn't just go chit-chatting with random humans about the supernatural, after all. Closing her hand around the silver brooch, she distractedly averted her gaze from his. This would need to be destroyed - but rather than just smashing it with a rock, she would have liked to do a proper ritual to remove the curse and then use the brooch itself to track the witch it had belonged to. If...she could find a way out of this maze, of course. Teleporting back to the magic shop would've been the easiest thing to do at this point, but first she needed to get this human off her tail. "If you're sure you're okay, then we should probably try to get out of here. Unless you'd rather stick around." She shrugged at him again, then turned to consider which path to take from here.

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock stared at Anya in disbelief. What internal organs had he been meaning to hit? The detective needed a bit of time to formulate the proper words to describe just how much loathing he was feeling at that moment. Sherlock sighed and began to speak. "...Do you even understand what I was trying to do here?" Sherlock gestured to the ashes of the scarecrow angrily. "I was trying to find out how that thing could possibly move! Do you think I was trying to kill it? You should at least be able to infer that, since I'm using a pistol instead of something that could be used to burn it or at least tear it apart, that I'm attempting to do something with it afterwards!?" He was practically furious by this point. The one bit of evidence he'd had for was so many strange things were happening - and it was in a pile of ashes.

After a moment of calming down, Sherlock started becoming rational again. "Fine. Do what you will with the ashes now." Sherlock sat down on a nearby bench and started to... sulk. Yes, the master detective Sherlock Holmes was sulking on a bench. To be fair, it was quite common for him to sulk when he was bored or the case had been ruined. He soon realized that another opportunity was there to see what the cause of all the strange things going on was. "You seem to know more than you let on." If she knew that it was technically just a scarecrow, she would also know what the cause was. Of course, he was looking too deeply he'd into someone he'd determined to be a complete idiot...

"I'll stay around a bit longer." Sherlock said as he stood up. The detective walked over to Anya and started revealing everything he'd figured out. "Just a few things I need to say... The ashes you left from burning the scarecrow aren't normal; they're almost otherworldly. Your mannerisms are somewhat awkward - certainly not fitting someone who's been in the human world for, say, thirty or so years. Of course, the way you weren't putting a lighter away after burning it was a dead giveaway - you aren't human. What are you?"

[Anya]

At the gradually rising anger in the man's voice as he berated her for her actions, Anya's eyes widened. It was somewhat unusual that a human give her such...attitude, and his rage genuinely puzzled her. "...Why are you yelling at me?" she asked him after a moment, shifting on the spot a bit nervously. Just a moment ago they'd been carrying out a fairly calm conversation, given the circumstances - but now the man's irritation seemed to have reached boiling point. It was enough to make the blonde slightly indignant, and a moment later her bewildered expression was replaced by a disapproving frown. "It's not every day that I come across a h--" She had to stop herself here; she'd almost used the word human. "..a normal person locked in battle with a murderous scarecrow. Forgive me for not stopping to assess the situation nice and thoroughly." Mildly annoyed after being spoken to in such a manner, Anya shook her head as he finally seemed to get a grip on himself and retreated over to a bench by himself. Where, no doubt, he'd be quite content to stay for a good long while. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. Oh, whatever - she'd been trying to hurry him out of the maze, but she wasn't going to beg him to follow her.

Turning away and beginning to walk, she'd opted to ignore his grumbling from this point on - right until he decided to stick with her after all. Anya shot him a mildly dubious look as he stepped up to her, but didn't offer any verbal protest. At this point, the silly human could do whatever he wanted as far as she was concerned. Unless, of course, 'doing what he wanted' involved asking her questions that she very much wanted to avoid. Anya blinked once at the mention of the ashes, had opened her mouth to protest when he'd continued on to point out her 'awkward mannerisms' - but the time he'd concluded his statement with the observation that she didn't have a lighter on her, the vengeance demon was a little too shocked to immediately respond. Just...great. She'd been outed by a nosy, condescending, irritatingly observant human. What if he went spreading this everywhere?

...Or what if he wouldn't have to? If there were still other people venturing throughout the maze, there was every chance that one of them might have been within earshot of their conversation at that exact moment. Alarmed, she quickly glanced around to make sure they were alone before fixing the man with a stern glare. "Shh!" Anya hissed at him sharply, quickening her pace a little and redirecting her gaze to stare unhappily at the ground. Truth be told, she was quite frustrated with herself at the moment. The way she'd exposed herself with the fire had been completely careless. She'd only been trying to save his life - but it seemed he hadn't even wanted her to do that.

"It's none of your business, anyway." she added after a moment. Really, he already knew she wasn't human, so there was no reason not to answer his question - she was just irritated that he'd called her out. ...That, and who knew what his reaction might be if he found out he was in the company of a demon. He might be trying to shoot her next! "Let's just...focus on getting out of this maze, so I can find the stupid witch that cursed that thing and get this over with already." Perhaps she'd revealed a little too much, but she figured that throwing him this metaphorical bone would at least distract him from asking questions about her distinct lack of humanity.

[Sherlock Holmes]

For a moment Sherlock just stood there, staring. He was almost dumbfounded by this point. "....Why am I yelling at you?" The detective asked, his voice showing his clear disdain and utter shock that she had practically ignored everything he was saying. "I have no answer to that besides my explanation of why I was yelling at you before." The detective quickly switched gears at her next words. It was as if she hadn't even expected him to hear her slip up on the word human. He stored this in his mind and continued on, trying to decide on just what she was. Due to the fact that she was standing out in broad daylight, she was likely not a vampire or werewolf.

The control of fire was most commonly attributed to demons, but they were also supposed to be chaotic, which this woman clearly wasn't. However, all creatures with control of fire were supposed to be chaotic according to mythology. Sherlock took a guess; an informed guess, of course, and decided to tell her what he'd guessed. "It's no use trying to fool me." Sherlock said, walking up to her. "You're a demon - aren't you?" It was no stranger than the living scarecrow or whatever other strange things resided in thise world that had no doubt been hiding from the human race for so long.

Deep within his mind, Sherlock assumed she was trying to lure him somewhere to get rid of him. Demons couldn't have humans knowing of them, could they? However, he had a plan. If she lied to him about her true nature, he would likely leave. That way, she was likely very protective about her true nature. If not, he would go along with her.

{Mregh... Kind of a crappy post >_>}

[Anya]

At the word 'demon', every muscle in the blonde's body seemed to tense. Of course she'd be unlucky enough to expose her abilities to a human who actually seemed to know a thing or two about supernatural lore. Partly surprised and partly horrified that he'd guessed so quickly, Anya turned to glare at him, bristling. The expression on her face would probably give him all the answer he needed - she wasn't exactly known for being cryptic when it came to emotional reactions, after all. After a long moment of uneasy, distrustful staring, however, she relaxed a fraction. Well. He knew what she was, and he had yet to...whip out a cross, douse her in holy water, or any of that 'fun' stuff. In that way, at least, this had all gone over better than she would have expected it to. Maybe he just didn't think a demon seemed very intimidating in comparison to a killer scarecrow? If that was the case, he certainly didn't know as much about the things that went bump in the night as she'd initially assumed - and at the thought, her mood quickly turned to one of incredulity and irritation.

"Are you crazy, or something?!" Anya asked him bluntly after a moment once she'd recovered from the shock. She still couldn't understand how some humans had such little regard for their own welfare. Every other creature on this planet had pretty strong self-preservation instincts - but a lot humans seemed to lack them. It was one of the many reasons she found it so incredible that they'd survived as a race thus far. "You can't just - you don't walk up to a demon and call her out like that. What if the only reason you're still breathing was because you hadn't figured me out yet? What if I decided to kill you, right now?" Shaking her head in bewilderment, she drew a shaky breath. This man was very confusing, even for a human. It was just lucky for him that she didn't exactly make a habit of killing people - even the annoying ones. But what would happen to him if he made a habit of greeting every demon like that? Hopefully running into supernatural creatures wasn't a frequent habit for him...yet some how, he struck her as the sort of person who had a talent for getting into trouble.

With an inward groan at the thought (because really, she'd met entirely too many of those kinds of people for one immortal lifetime), the vengeance demon reluctantly resigned herself to the fact that bickering with this man didn't seem to be getting her anywhere fast. She gave a moody shrug and looked away. "Fine. You've got me all figured out. Happy? Heck, while we're at it, let's just get all the craziness out of the way in one swing!" False, sarcastic enthusiasm laced her tone as she forced a none-too-cheery smile. Her mood was considerably soured now - in fact, she was all business as she whipped out the silver brooch she'd found in the scarecrow's ashes and held it in front of his eyes. "See this? It contains the curse that brought the scarecrow to life. And it means that there's a witch around here who's probably preeetty pissed off right now that she's been deprived of all her human-killin' fun. So maybe you could focus on that instead of asking nosy, irritating questions!" Anya scowled slightly, her eyes bright with sharp, undisguised agitation, before turning on her heel and carrying on down the path.



((S'okay! And GRUMPY ANYA IS GRUMPY.))

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her threat. "If you had wanted to kill me you already would have." In hindsight Sherlock knew that he should have been more careful. Knowing the mythology behind demons they were immensely powerful beings that could likely do away with him easily if they wanted to. Having no religion, Sherlock was not one to take hours studying the material and attempting to figure it out so he knew very little about the subject. He only knew the basics of it. Even that stated that demons were more powerful than any human. Before this encounter, Sherlock would have never believed in demons. After seeing her manipulate the fire {as well as her own confession of it}, Sherlock had to accept that which was clearly presented before him. This brought many other questions to mind, such as the existence of other creatures told of in mythology.

Surely if demons were real, things like angels and other 'holy' creatures had to exist. From what the demon said, things like witches and magic existed. Although seemingly impossible, Sherlock would have to believe it until it was proven false. He wasn't about to deny what a demon said, after all. It wasn't that he was exactly afraid of her, but he was aware that things like demons likely had knowledge of things like this instead of important things. Deciding not to question what else existed {he was sure that if he did he would likely faint from how stupid it sounded}, Sherlock decided to investigate the ashes one last time before setting off.

Rolling his eyes at the demon's little tantrum, Sherlock stepped towards the ashes of the living scarecrow. "If you're quite done with your little temper tantrum, I'd like to continue this case." As Sherlock turned around to look at the brooch Anya had taken from the ashes, he snatched it from her hands and glanced at it for a moment. "It was made by a woman, and one who takes pride in her work. It was also recently made, likely by hand instead of a factory. The creator is murderous with some vendetta against humans. She also has some kind of affinity for Halloween, or else she wouldn't have chosen today for killing. Either that or she's giving us a Red Herring." Most of this was said to himself as Anya was talking. The detective glanced up and blinked, having not heard a word of what she said. "...Were you saying something?"