Pest Control. {FINISHED!}

[Anya]

So here was the thing: Buffy was in New York, right? Right. Anya knew this for a fact. So the vengeance demon didn't think she was too out of line in complaining about the fact that she STILL HAD TO FIGHT ALL THE FREAKIN' VAMPIRES AROUND HERE. Seriously, didn't these freaks ever take a night off? ..Well, she supposed that when blood was your main source of food, you couldn't really take a night off from killing people, but still. It was annoying.

It was especially annoying when a particular gang of vamps decided to use the alleyway behind her magic shop as a hang-out site. This was most definitely not okay in her book - they were frightening away all of her late-night customers looking to buy illegal magical artifacts! Still, vampires were...demons, in a sense, and so out of a slight amount of begrudging respect Anya didn't typically go out of her way to hunt them down the way Buffy might have. But these bloodsuckers? They were grating on her last nerve. And when she heard a sudden scream from outside - unquestionably signaling that they'd found a a victim - well, that was pretty much the last straw.

Slamming the shop door behind her, stake in hand, the demon stormed out onto the darkened streets of New York City and into the alleyway, where she was promptly faced with no less than six vampires, five of them gathered around as one(their 'leader'?) sunk its fangs into some poor unsuspecting girl's throat. In the next second, Anya had waved her hand and telekinetically sent the offending bloodsucker flying roughly back against the alley wall with a thunk. This, needless to say, was more than enough to get the rest of them to pay attention.

"Evening," Anya greeted them flatly. "Hate to interrupt - well actually, no I don't - but I'm going to have to ask you to relocate your little party to somewhere within a reasonably far distance of my place of business." Okay, so she hadn't really been expecting that to work - but being polite was always worth a try. ...Unfortunately, however, the vampires didn't seem to think so. In one sudden blur of movement the first one had lunged at her - and, seriously, was he that stupid? He'd just seen her use her demonic abilities....oh, whatever. She sidestepped him quickly and, in one quick movement, swung around and plunged the stake through his back and into his heart.

That was one vamp reduced to dust...and five more to go. Five more that had actuallyrealized by now not to underestimate her. Two more had lunged at her from the side, and spotting them out of the corner of her eye she turned to face them - only to be all but bowled over by yet another one behind her. With a snarl the vampire grabbed her roughly by the arm, twisted the stake out of her arm and...snapped it in half.

Well, crap.

And then another vampire was at her side twisting her other arm, and in the following moment Anya realized that between the two of them she was...well, sufficiently restrained. Double crap. Spitting insults at the bloodsuckers, the demon began a sort of frenzied attempt to get free - but with the others closing in on her, it...wasn't really looking good...

[Jones]

The city was an ugly thing. Perfect allegory for human life. It strove through. A dirty revolting thing that smeared itself across the landscape and crushed underneath it all it could. And yet.s.. Say what you would about humanity but it always strove for more, reached for more, hoped and dreamed. The dreams would probably come to naught but a smear on the sidewalk and a bad eulogy but the act of trying. Jones supposed there was some value in that act as futile as it was. These thoughts echoed in the head of the man, age in biological terms forty-two, age in cynicism, at least five eons and counting. The man though only less then half a century old every hair on his body was gray, a life lived hard and two the limit for twelve years, a life etched into his back, arms, and chest in the form of countless scars. The cherry from a lit cigarette danced in the dim night in the alley ways he took waving in front of him like a miniature baton. His coat long and made of brown leather hung down to his ankles while underneath was usual a expensive suit but this was private time not company time so the suit was forgone while a white sleeveless shirt and blue jeans decorated his flesh instead. His face was lined with age before it's years and a face that would be considered handsome but never pretty. Deep frown lines carved into it and a near permament five o clock shadow saw to that. His hair was cut short and combed neat. It seemed a bit at odds with his height and the obvious muscle tone of his body, a fighters body carved from teak rather then squishy flesh. No visible tattoos, no jewelry. Just a large angry man having a bad day.

It was bad enough they had assigned him a partner that was what... twelve... thirteen maybe? The kid was a crossdressing nun armed with a yoyo... a yoyo. He shook his head his fingers twitching for his hip flask but of course this was the one day he left it at home. The training was... not going well. The kid seemed incapable of using a hand gun without nearly killing someone nearby... someone standing in the opposite direction of where the kid was pointing the gun. If Jones was not what he was... if his power was not what it was... he would be dead. As it was the apologies were bad enough. Shaking his head Jones grit his teeth at his corporation's 'foresight'. He would have to think of someway to... thank them.

Walking along down the alleys, down the darkness of the city he felt something in the corner of his mind. A faint ping of danger, a feather touch of awareness. He looked up as he walked down another side alley and saw it. It was a scene a thousand times old. A hand full of men with warped faces, sharp teeth, and no sense of fair play. Jones stopped dead in his tracks. His feet spread a bit apart, his shoulders squared. He took in the situation in an instant and acted. No witty wordplay to let them know he was there, no warning. He exploded, his face stern and unyielding, his left hand already in his pocket for warmth and his right hand flew into the front of his open coat, grabbing onto a wooden grip, a pistol. Swinging it out. A gun, a cannon some would say, a 45 caliber pistol, a blueish shine of gunmetal, and he moved, his body exploding forward. A single step took him much farther then it should have, sending his body a projectile in brown leather as he erupted to the three approaching creatures, his left hand swung out as he blurred to a stop behind one critter and the chain in his hand gathered in a bunch slammed into one of the vamps backs, his spine arched under the impact and he howled first in rage then in pain as his back erupted into agony. Burned through his back, through his skin were tiny symbols, most of them tiny crosses, Jones didn't stop to taunt as he turned on his attacker, as his friends stopped to look. Rather his right hand lifted and aimed. Two shots aimed in the dark against creatures that disdained bullets. The bullets were silver tipped but that would do nothing on a vamp. Nothing special... but he wasn't aiming to kill.

Rather his barrel pointed at first the kneecap on the vamp to the right of the girl, then to the left. As the gun barked it's roar, as cartilage, bone and muscle shattered under the impact the vamps screamed in rage and surprise. Rage because he had attacked them, surprise as they found not even their vampirehood protected them from a well placed large caliber bullet turning their kneecap to slag. They feel to their knees, their balence shot. And that was when he moved again. Pushing forward, a 45 mile per hour fastball kicking aside the vamp to her left with a old fashion boot to the face and spinning to shoot the other one through the left eye. He fell holding his face in a bit of pain due to the hot gases from the muzzle flash and point blank range, but mostly in surprise. As he let go to hold his face Jones's whipped the chain to wrap around his hand, the many symbols, pieces of metal and minerals jingling as he punched out, hitting the vamp in the face as he lifted his face to glare at Jones. Just in time to scream... and fall in a pile of ashes.


Jones looked over his shoulder at the woman. She was way too calm about this to be normal plus his senses were vibrating about her but... she... didn't seem dangerous to him at the moment... but the vamps... he didn't know what she was but vamps were always a priority. His gaze smoldering with barely restrained rage rotated back to the vamps.

"You know. When I was younger I would have made a witty comment now, maybe ask if you all don't have something better to do, like get in line for the next twilight movie or whatever, or maybe I would say something about how if you all leave now I will not kill you all today..."

Jones reached up his chain wrapped hand and holding his cigarette took a rather nonchalant puff on his cigarette, his stance relaxed and indifferent despite the barely restrained homicidal rage in his eyes. Vampires in front of him... the fools! Did they not fear him? He ignored his screaming ego and kept his gaze firm and steady.

"Instead. I am going to kill each and every one of you goth punks right here and now. That is a promise. I am good at keeping promises."

[Anya]

This...was getting a little humiliating. Really, she was a vengeance demon - something so common as a vampire gang shouldn't have given her much trouble, but...they'd just gotten such a good grip on her arms. It was making it kind of hard to move - and without use of her hands, she couldn't use telekinesis to reacquaint a couple of them with the brick alley walls. Twisting violently in an attempt to break free, she gritted her teeth. "Get your filthy hands off me, you bunch of rowdy, inconsiderate little punks! I'm gonna--"

But she never got to finish her very...Anya-ish rant, because at that moment the resounding bang of a gunshot roar out - and the next thing she knew, the vampires who'd been restraining her were crumpling to the ground. The first, immediate thought to grace the vengeance demon's mind was more or less '...the hell?!' - but the second one was a little more coherent. To any ordinary passerby, this probably looked like either a mugging or, well...something even less pleasant. So any ordinary bystander (if that bystander...had a gun?) would've probably shot for the head or chest - but this man had known better than that. What happened next played out so quickly that Anya wasn't quite sure exactly what was going on...but what she did know? The vamps were getting their asses handed to them.

Out of sheer surprise, the blonde paused and tipped her head uncertainly to one side as she watched as yet another of the bloodsuckers were reduced to ashes and...what exactly was that weapon the man was carrying? A...chain? A chain adorned in miniature crosses and a variety of other anti-demonic symbols, from what she could tell. Okay. So this...was no ordinary human - if human was even what he was; she hadn't gotten a very good look at him yet. As the stranger stopped to address the vampires, Anya took a moment to more or less dust herself off a little. Really, she reflected crossly, she'd been courteous enough to at least use telekinesis to throw them around...there was no need for them to have demon-handled her so roughly...

She looked up abruptly as the man finished speaking. There was something about his tone - calm as it was - that made her a bit wary. It also made her kinda feel like these vamps were pretty much screwed at this point. Raising herself slightly up on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder, she blinked at the remaining bloodsuckers. "He seems very angry. Perhaps you should wipe those irritating, misguidedly smug smirks off of your faces." she suggested at random. Not that the vampires looked like they had much intention of listening to her. Oh well, their funeral. But one of them was stepping up now - seeming to decide he'd like to be the first one to attack.

Anya was really just gonna let the man with the chain go nuts. She really was. Except...except her arms were still sore, and her pride had been very thoroughly wounded, and...well...in the next moment, the sharpened end of the broken stake on the ground was zipping through the air and lodging itself right into the vamp's chest. As it fell to the ground, disintegrating with one last snarl, the demon cleared her throat softly and cast a rather sheepish look at the man in front of her. "...Ahem. Sorry. Had to. I have a slight thing for vengeance. But um, please, feel free to have at the rest of them." she encouraged him brightly.

[Jones]

Jones raised an eye as the make shift stake speared through a vampire like a dart. He started to reassess that maybe the damsel in distress was not as distressed as she seemed but... see seemed to unlike him move her hands when she used her power so maybe she was. He mentally shook himself. He was missing the important point. Now she was a mystery, something odd he would have to figure out but... he did know that there was a girl lying on the ground. He blood had been sucked and these PARASITES... had their teeth marks in her. Jones's eyes flared with anger but his anger was... controlled. Unlike some who might scream and shout and last at his rage glowed from his eyes while his body remained rock steady. The control of a man who had twelve years to practice it in the worst situations on the planet.

Despite the universe waving warning flags the size of small buildings some creatures never get a chance to master the learning process. Sometimes evolution is unkind. It was very unkind to the first vamp to charge, ears dangling chains down to his armpits, a knife with more spikes then blade in his hands. Jones didn't flinch, didn't step back. He just watched the vamps eyes and when it stabbed... he wasn't there. He had taken a small side step to the left as the vamp jumped stabbing downwards. It found gravity to be an unkind mistress though as Jones lashed out with his chained fist into the vamps chest. The blow should have just knocked it out to it's back. It's burned chest matching it's sizzling back. It should not have sent it back a bit... and then caused him to greatly accelerate. Course... Jones cheated. Sending his mind to lift it a bit as his fist impacted and accelerating the vamps momentum and as unkind as gravity had been.... the brick wall that cracked a bit with the impact of the vamp was even more unkind. The sound of breaking bones and the vamps agony could be heard.

Taking time to ignore the vamps agony he turned on the groaning vamp holding it's face. It's eye burnt out by the muzzle flash from his gun. The hole going through it's head as it moved it's hand to glare at him but it's jaw was dropped from watching his friend fly. Old cop trick, make the hard seem so easy you don't acknowledge it and you get a bit more time to act before the scum can react. So he had time to reholster his gun and pull out a small glass flask whose top he broke off with his thumb, he had time to splash it into the eye of the vamp. And time to ask

"Thirsty?"

as the water splashed into it's face reacting instantly... but worst of all the water went into the hole through it's head. As it's face burned and sizzled it's brain, it's head was burning from the inside. It fell screaming to the ground screaming till too much was destroyed to let it scream. It twitched and spasmed and croaked one word.

"mercy."

But Jones simply turned away and looked at the uninjured vamp as behind him the vamp on the ground shuddered, spasmed, and finally after what probably seemed like a life time it turned to dust. Jones could have killed it instantly with his chain, could have severed it's head somehow but he had seen too much of what those soulless creatures were capable to pity one the slightest bit. His face showed it as he the flames in his eyes seemed so much closer then the fires of hell. He didn't look at the woman who was helping him. He just spoke.

"By the way Ma'am. After we are done with the trash... We need to talk. Don't leave until we talk."

The flat monotone in his voice rang out in the alley as without looking at the uninjured vampire he held out a hand flat and pointed at the wooden stake and then pointed at the vamp who was having a personal meeting with a brick wall. The stick vanished in a blur and a THUNK sound rang out as ash formed a pile on the wall where the vamp had been moments ago.

"By the way they call me Mister Jones. It is a pleasure to meet you."

[Anya]

It was almost effortlessly that the man seemed to dispatch the next several vamps, with a cold, merciless sort of fury that she'd rarely seen in a human before. He wasn't just slaying monsters, the way Buffy did - no, what he was doing was much more brutal than that. The vengeance demon's expression betrayed a faint amount of concern as she watched the scene play out. Not concern for the vampires; Anya really could have cared less - it was more concern for the man himself. It was unnerving, seeing such icy rage being emitted from a human being. She nearly jumped when he addressed her abruptly, her expression changing to one that almost looked guilty - though at the moment she didn't really have anything to be guilty about.

"Alright," she agreed, albeit rather uncertainly. "Don't worry. I can't leave yet anyway. I have to lock up my store first, or else someone could break in during the middle of the night and steal all of my money." Leave it to Anya to go off rambling about money in the midst of a fight. She'd barely gotten the last word out of her mouth, however, when the man sent the stake hurtling at the vampire who'd been thrown against the wall - and a lot faster than...any normal human could have thrown it, too. Blinking in confusion, she turned to stare at the pile of ashes against the brick wall where the bloodsucker had just been. When the man casually introduced himself as Mister Jones, Anya slowly turned back to rest her puzzled light brown gaze upon him again. She...wasn't afraid, exactly - it took a lot to actually scare the vengeance demon - but she was most certainly a little wary of him.

Never the less, she shot him a friendly smile. "Hello! My name's Anya. Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins, but most people just call me Anya." she replied, for some reason feeling the need to disclose her absurdly long and completely made-up full name as if this would somehow humanize her. That hadn't been too bad, though - friendly greeting, nothing that incriminated herself - in fact, she almost opened her mouth again to go on about how perfectly normal her very-civilian life was! And that was when...the last vampire darted out of the shadows and threw himself at her, knocking them both to the ground. The vengeance demon gave a half-muffled screech of rage as the vamp landed heavily on top of her, immediately lunging for her throat. Since when did vampires drink demon blood anyway? Maybe this one was just stupid. Whatever it was, Anya didn't waste any time slamming one hand against the bloodsucker's forehead and holding him in place for a moment while she...proceeded to light a nice bit of hellfire from her finger tips.

The vampire howled in pain and reared back, and in the next second she'd flipped their positions. "Sorry. Buffy's not here, so you're going to be shorted one witty parting shot." And with that she'd whisked the stake back into her hand and plunged it into the vamp's heart. Anya remained on the ground for a split second longer, taking a split second to catch her breath...and then practically bounced back up onto her feet again, smiling casually.

And then something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention: a body. A body? Vampires didn't leave behind bodies, that wasn't....oh. It was only then that Anya remembered the girl who'd been attacked, whose scream had been the thing to draw her out into the alley of the first place. Her eyes widened. She...she was just lying there...not moving...

Tentatively, the demon turned away from Jones and wandered over to her, kneeling down next to her and picking up a limp, pale hand. Still warm - but no pulse. Anya dropped the girl's wrist quickly, as if it'd burned her, and stared down at her body. She looked young. Maybe only a little older than Dawn. Anya cleared her throat. "..Bye, teenage girl that I never really knew. I really hope you like it in that place where there aren't any vampires. I've heard it's nice up there..." she trailed off quietly, not really sure of what else to say. Normally, she wouldn't really be saying anything - but she figured someone had to on this girl's behalf.

Rising to her feet again, she fidgeted awkwardly as she turned back to Jones. The police would probably have to be called...ugh, and this was going to create a whole big crime scene right outside her place of business...but right at this very moment, she was mainly concerned with what the 'talking' he'd mentioned a moment ago entailed. Because right now, Anya was fairly certain of two things: one, this man was an experienced demon-killer. And two...he had some unusual abilities of his own. It was enough to put her on edge just a little. "So, um - Mister Jones, was there something you wanted to speak to me about?" she asked, her fidgeting increasing a little.

[Jones]

Jones watched the... creature... known as Anya dispatch the last vamp with fire. He sniffed the air briefly recognizing the scent. He had smelled it many times over the years. Not fire. Hellfire. The stench of rotten eggs drifting through the alley. Jones didn't move for a moment and then with his thumb he opened the ammo drum on his revolver and three bullets zipped from a pocket as three empty shells were pulled out his gun by an invisible force. The empties were placed in a pocket while the fresh rounds slapped into the empty chambers and he thumbed the drum back into place. He didn't take his off Anya and then slowly a memory drifted out from his mind. A briefing sat through, a file read, a mission planed and canceled. He narrowed his eyes and her face cut through the anger and through the fog of war. The anger in Jones's eyes pulled back, not calming but rather pulled back to be shoved in it's cage and the chains put back on. He didn't tend to let go of anger he pulled it back, sent it to a cage and held it till needed it. Rather then discard anger he used it. Just not at the moment.

"I remember you. I read your file a couple years back. Miss we still need to talk. But on the plus side I don't believe I have to kill you so that might be an improvement."

As he talked he walked over to the young lady laying on the floor and knelt in front of her, his eyes showing a surprising tenderness. A sadness, a familiarity. Not for her face she was a stranger to him. But the situation, the wounds, the loss someone would experience. It turned to rage and fed the beast far within him. It rattled it's cage but did not move from it's spot. Jones gently reached down and closed her eyes. Then he closed her mouth from her silent scream and stood, as he did so he pulled open a phone and after a few false stops he dialed a number.

"J here. I know you know where I am. I know you bugged my phone. Send a clean up team and cancel any cop visits. There is nothing for them here, just six poofers and one victim. I want the alley cleaned and the body... NO! No a do not want her to 'vanish'"

The rage screamed and the last sentence was grated out of his mouth in a dangerous growl. His lips pulled back revealing his flat white teeth. He spoke each syllable clearly, distinctly. He left no doubt of his sincerity. He did not raise his voice again which made things all the worse.

"I don't care if that is the standard operation procedure that got handed down today. I don't care if your boss told you to tell me this. You must be new if you even think I will stand by and let this girl just vanish and leave her family and friends wondering. Lost and hoping when all they need is closure. I don't care how you do it. Fake her obit, fake a car accident, but you get this girl back to her family. Tell your boss that if I find out this has not been done I will come and discuss his failing with him... suddenly, and violently and all over the place."

With that Jones hung up the phone and turned to the demon in front of him. The anger still boiled in his eyes but it was being pulled back again. His controlled rage settling. He nodded respectfully towards her as he holstered his gun and pocketed his chain.

"Ma'am would it be possible for us to step into your shop? The clean up crew will be here momentarily and they work best on their own."

Jones tone was back to a calm, steady, authoritive yet respectful tone he usually used with women... who were suspects. In some ways, Jones was still a cop.

[Anya]

There was a brief, sort of awkward, but mostly just tense moment in which Anya turned and eyed the gun that Jones had just reloaded. Her gaze dropped from his face to the weapon in his hand, and then back again, her expression politely inquisitive. And then...at least some of the aggression in his demeanor seemed to fade, and he seemed to decide to speak to her rather than shoot at her - a fact which Anya was quite grateful for. She wasn't quite ready for his words, however, and it actually took her a moment to process them. "Wait - I have a file?" Anya blinked several times, wondering when and how on earth someone had put together a file on her. And then a more important thought occurred to her. "You were going to kill me?!"

But she didn't get to inquire further before Jones took out his cell phone and dialed a number. Anya watched him curiously for a moment before taking a small step back from the girl's body, as if a phone call regarding someone's death was an event that required a good deal of space. Slowly, her curiosity turned to faint shock as he ordered whoever it was he was speaking with to call off the cops. And...to make sure that the girl got back to her family. ...Well. That certainly made things a lot less complicated. But now the demon was being plagued with thoughts of this girl's family, and what was going to happen when they found out when she was dead, and how horrible it had been for the Scoobies when Buffy had found Joyce dead, and....

Anya was very abruptly pulled out of her thoughts when she realized that Jones had finished the phone call and was addressing her again. Staring at him half-dazed, but not with nearly as much uncertainty as she had a moment ago - if nothing else, his phone call had proven he was capable of some form of compassion - Anya gave a hurried nod in response. "Y-yes, of course...follow me.." With one last concerned glance at the the girl's body, she motioned briefly for Jones to follow her and started for the exit of the alleyway at a brisk pace.

She was starting to worry all over again. If Jones had wanted to kill her, he would've done so already - she was pretty sure about that - but something about the way he'd just spoken to her...it was very official, like the way those people spoke on all of those cop shows. Already Anya was jumping to the worst case scenario. He knew who she was, evidently, and now he wanted to talk to her about...something. About what had just happened, maybe? What if he thought she had something to do with the girl's death?! What if he'd decided that she was in some way responsible? By the time they'd reached the shop door, the vengeance demon had managed to all but completely convince herself that she was in trouble here.

Quickly, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, the slight jingling of a bell sounding as she did so. Anya'd taken about three...maybe four paces inside before promptly deciding to whip around to face Jones again, clasping her hands together worriedly and nearly colliding with him in her abruptness. "I didn't mean for her to get killed!" Anya blurted out immediately, a note of desperation edging her voice. "I heard her scream, and I came out here and threw the vamp off of her, but then she was just lying there and she didn't get back up and...and I tried to help her! I swear! Please don't...shoot me? Or not in here, at least. I just paid for the floor to be cleaned, and if you think human blood is difficult to get out you should try scrubbing at demon blood, because it really -" And then, just as quickly, Anya stopped speaking. Realized she'd been rambling...and then...took a slow, sheepish step back.

"...Sorry. Just...don't be angry. Please?" she finished apprehensively.

[Jones]

The rage was a beast that screamed and raged but the last of it's hold melted as he was looked at with such fear from this... so called demon. She was almost in tears from fear of him. He sighed out a cloud of smoke from his cigarette and seemed to... deflate a bit. The squaring of his shoulders slackened, muscles that he didn't even know were tense seemed to relax as he breathed out. Silently, his muscles hurting more, his bones creaking from many compounded impacts over time, his scars hurting his age coming back to him in waves he walked over to a chair and pulled it out indicating it while he pulled out another one and with a bit of work spun it around so it faced her. He felt tired. Using his powers sometimes took it out of him and... the whole night had just come crashing down on him. He wanted nothing more then to find a couch or something to sack out on with a flask of rocket fuel alcohol but he had work to do and... a woman. Woman... it was getting harder and harder to think of her as a demon... to reassure.

"Ma'am. I am not mad... okay that is a bold face lie. I am mad about a lot of things. I am mad that those punks out there were turned into soulless monsters that I had no choice but to kill. I am made that girl died out there. But you... you I am not mad at. I will admit I hate alot of your kind. That is for... deeply personal reasons but I don't kill just because someone is different. If I believed you were a threat I would kill you without hesitation, without a warning, without asking inside to talk."

He looked at her, his years etched on his face but the fire was still there just... dimmer. The sadness, the rage equal measures keeping him vertical.

"I am so old... and have so little mercy left."

He looked at her, his cigarette burning out in the corner of his mouth and a bit of a smile on his mouth. He looked at her with a bit of respect and tapped the side of his head.

"Part of what I am warns me of dangers sometimes gives me something like... better intuition. That plus what I learned back when I wore a badge... I believe you. I believe you are not like much of your... no... I don't think calling them your people would be right. You tried to save that girl didn't you? Tried to help her... She can't... say anything but I think she would thank you for trying."

He shifted his gaze from her his eyes glazing a bit, seeing something only he could see far in the past. A seen of blood and carnage, bright red, the smell of copper strong everywhere, the sounds of flesh tearing. He didn't know what to tell her. That she tried her best but he knew that didn't help her, wouldn't help her when she saw the faces in the black of the night. That those failures seemed so much louder then a million successes. He knew that ashes never washed away blood. All it did was add to the scales. He came back to the present, his body aching, his arm throbbing. He looked to her and simply said.

"We try our best, cause the ghosts of spirits that have pasted will not let us do less. Does that sound right Ma'am?"

[Anya]

Slowly, gradually, some of the anxiety began to seep out of the demon's expression as Jones spoke. He wasn't angry - not at her, at least - and if he could be believed, he wasn't planning on killing her any time soon either. After a long, uncertain moment, Anya gave a brief nod of acceptance and took a seat in the chair he'd motioned to. Once they were both seated, she allowed herself to relax long enough to study Jones a bit more closely. And again, she was taken aback by what she found. He looked...tired. More tired than any human his age should look - and yes, he'd said he was old. Maybe by human standards he was, but...he was what? In his mid to late forties? To a vengeance demon, that didn't seem like a very long time at all - yet if she'd just been judging by the look in his eyes Anya would've guessed he'd lived for centuries. No person, in her opinion, should ever look as sad and angry as Jones did right now.

She opened her mouth, probably about to ask him something that was both a little too inquisitive and a little too personal (true to form), but he spoke again before she could do so. It seemed she didn't need to convince him that she wasn't like most of the demons you'd typically run into - he was already well-aware of that. And she wasn't quite sure of what to say when Jones added that the now dead girl laying outside probably would've thanked her because of her efforts. Thanked her for what? Failing? Anya shook her head, averting her gaze briefly to study a nearby bookshelf. "She would have been a lot more grateful if I'd actually succeeded." the demon responded with simple bluntness after a moment, shifting her gaze back to Jones. "But I understand. You were trying to make me feel better. Thank you." She shot him a polite, if slightly awkward, smile and shuffled her feet a little, like a restless kid who'd just been told to sit still.

Even as on edge as she was, Anya was far from expecting the bit of insight Jones presented her with next though. "...Yes?" she answered in response when he asked her for confirmation, though really only because she figured it sounded like the right answer. Not that he wasn't right - Anya knew he was. Fighting on behalf of the people you'd lost - it was something that she'd witnessed countless humans do. But just because the demon knew it to be true didn't mean she understood it any better."No? I don't know." she confessed, ultimately unable to keep up a brave face. "...It's just, sometimes I wonder what the point is. I mean, if we'd saved that girl...she could've gotten hit by a bus tomorrow. Or the next day. Or ten years from now." Anya glanced briefly to the window on the other side of the show. The curtains were drawn - and that was a good thing, she supposed. She didn't really want to see what was going on outside just now.

"Mortal lifespans are so...short...and sometimes I don't know what the point of trying to save people is when you're just going to lose them all in the end anyway." There was a note of frustrated helplessness in Anya's voice that she rarely allowed to bubble to the surface. Because these were facts. Death was part of life, and there was no changing that. Ever. It was just so...stupid.

And she was ranting about it to someone who was hardly more than a complete stranger. Blinking several times, Anya shot Jones a look that was both startled and abashed - and promptly decided that she was behaving altogether far more vulnerably than she should have been in front of an evident demon hunter. "Um, so anyway! We were supposed to be talking about other stuff." Immediately she shifted back to her usual chipper demeanor, clearing her throat softly and springing to your feet. "Do you want coffee? I have a coffee maker in the back. Talking's always better over coffee. Or I could make tea..."

[Jones]

Jones winced a bit as he reached up and pinched out this cigarette between thumb and forefinger. He looked for somewhere to stash it but settled for snuffing out good and proper and sticking it in his pocket. He had considered sticking it in a nearby pot but Jones while no wizard knew a few arcane tricks, real things not sleight of hand. While he couldn't toss a fireball he could do a basic ward or finding spell. That was about his best but his limited experience taught him sticking his cigarette butt in a random job in the middle of a magic shop that sold more then fake wands and face spell books sold to make a quite book... the inserting of the butt might have very bad side effects. Out loud he said.

"Coffee please, black. I am not a tea person as you might guess."

He looked around the place. His limited knowledge told him this was the real thing. Sea salt which he had in his own pocket, chalk mined straight from the earth which again he had some in his pocket, shelve and shelves of things that he knew little to nothing about. It was laid out in a intelligent organized way he nodded at it as he removed his coat and laid it on his chair back. The removal revealed his shoulder holster and the gun inside, the child's charm hanging from the grip from a tiny chain made more obvious and the removal revealing the sleevelessness of his white t-shirt. The arms were scarred with scratches, burns and more along the shoulders and his right bicep had a tattoo. Two chains meeting at a gold ring. The top chain was cut through though, three claw marks rending the chain. The claw scars were quote real and absently he fingered them as he spoke seriously as his host generously made coffee.

"It's not about beating death for good."

He looked at her as he spoke. Trying to explain what had taken him twelve years to figure out.

"I do this... what I do... partially for revenge I admit. But another part like I said. It isn't beating death. You can't. He waits for us all. Some like you he has to wait a long time for... but he can wait. In the end we all come to him one by one. Long, short... that doesn't matter. What matters is... that while I can't save a person from ever dying by blasting a monster to a paste on the sidewalk... I can delay it one more day. One more day for them to live, to love, to maybe change the world for the better."

He hesitated. Wondering if he was saying too much.

" Maybe... maybe by saving them I can give them a chance to meet that one person. To be luckier then me and be able get back to those they love, to die surrounded by their loved ones rather then bleeding out on the street... and I do it... cause I can't not do it. I can not fail without trying... cause as long as I try... I can fight. I can put off failures long enough they don't hurt as bad. But if I just don't bother... the monsters win..."

He looked away into the middle distance again. His mind on another place and time. Of a pair of faces smiling at him, laughing... and then stillness.

"I can't let them win. I have too many ghosts and too much rage."

Turning back the corner of his mouth lifted to a self mocking grin.

"I guess that is a kind of stupidity. But I can live with being stupid."

[Anya]

As soon as she got an answer about the coffee, Anya nodded and hurried into the backroom - leaving the door ajar so she could hear what Jones was saying - and focused on preparing two cups of coffee. Along with the coffee maker she kept in the shop, she kept a few mugs here as well. The shop was home-y; almost more so than the apartment she actually lived in these days - Anya suspected this was because it reminded her so much of the magic shop she used to run with Giles - and more often than not, it was where she spent her time in the evening even after the shop itself closed. Cleaning, doing paperwork, or research on the latest creature lurking in the shadows - all of it was better when you had a nice, warm cup of coffee to go along with it.

Breezily sweeping around the back room to prepare their drinks, the demon may not have looked like it...but she was listening very intently to what Jones was saying. His confession that part of what he did was about revenge, well...that didn't really surprise her. She was a vengeance demon, after all, and she could sense these things - though she'd learned that commenting on them led to conversations caused more trouble than they were worth. And even less pleasant than discussing vengeance was discussing the inevitable fact that they were all going to die someday. Even, as Jones pointed out, her. "I've already died once," she piped up matter-of-factly over her shoulder. "Wasn't fun." ...To say the very least. But that was what she got for following humans into hopeless apocalyptic battles.

She let him continue after that, though, finishing up the coffee and carefully carrying two steaming mugs back over to the table. She set one down in front of Jones, the other near her own chair, and then seated herself across from him again and fixed him with a stare that was unusually thoughtful. Anya...could be insightful, when she really wanted to be - when, like Jones was doing now, someone sat her down and really made her think. "...Most demons do think humans are stupid, you know." she responded to his last statement after a long moment. "And - well okay, to be fair, a lot of humans are kind of stupid sometimes. But I don't think you are." Actually, Jones struck her as a lot of things, but stupid? Definitely not one of them.

Anya stopped for a moment. Under normal circumstances, it really was second-nature for the demon to speak whatever was on her mind - but speaking so openly in front of someone like Jones was enough to make her nervous all over again. ...But then, he'd just given her a hell of a lot to think about. The least she could do was offer a half-way decent response. Hesitation and uncertainty lingered in her gaze for a moment longer - and then she spoke. "Can I tell you something? Only you have to promise not to tell anyone - ever - because if I had demon friends, and they found out, it would be completely humiliating and I'd never live it down." Actually pausing to draw a breath (a rarity in itself) before she went on, Anya met Jones' gaze steadily now.

"...I kind of...like humans. A lot. Mostly because of people like you." Demons, vampires, angels, whatever - so many of them thought they were better than the humans because they had...what, special powers? The flashiest, most awe-inspiring supernatural abilities of the creatures she'd met didn't even begin to compare to some of the things Anya had watched humans do. "I mean, you're sitting here and just looking at you I can tell your life's been hell - um, no offense - and you're still telling me that people are worth saving, and lives are worth living, and...and..." She wasn't good at this. This....putting stuff into words. She couldn't be as witty as Buffy, or as smooth as Spike, or as smart as Giles - all she could do was...babble, really, and hope she said the right thing. "I don't know. Sometimes I wonder why you people never stop trying. But I'm really, really glad you don't." It was like she'd told that dork, Andrew: humans could be complete idiots, but when it was something that really mattered...they'd fight until the end. It was pretty damn inspiring, when you thought about it.

It was why Anya kept fighting, too.

[Jones]

Jones sipped his coffee as she talked about demons and how she didn't want anyone to know. He hid the surge of hatred... it was narrow minded, from his first year... after. Then he didn't care, didn't separate he killed with his own two hands if needed, if it was not human, not of this world he wanted it dead. The quicker the better. Or better yet the quicker it could kill him, but instead he found he was very very good at the process of providing monsters an egress from the living world. He didn't know what to account for it besides the fact he just didn't die and they did and as time went on he only got better at it. He learned.... the hard way the humans... could be monsters, and demons... could be saints. He learned not to lash out based on appearance.. besides as he sipped he admitted the girl made a good cop of joe, no froo froo flavors just straight up well brewed coffee he... he stopped as he heard a knock on the door. Each knock was authoritative, firm, and seemed to indicate the knocker would be more then willing to kick the door in, make itself at home, and peer in your medicine cabinet for embarrassing creams. Jones stood and waved for Anya to remain seated. He stood up straight, his bones realigning to the usual squared shoulders and the posture of someone ready to kick someone in areas that were rather impolite and yet... and oddly relaxed posed as he did not have his coat on and had a steaming cop of coffee in his hand. He yanked open the door and revealed three figures before the door.

The front most one raised a hand to speak and immediately lowered it before the glare from the older man before him. A man in a sleaveless t-shirt glaring at three men in black combat fatigues, armed to the teeth with pit helmets and normally attitude to spare. The one one the right had eyes redder then normal indicating he was probably not as human as he looked and the one on the left had claw scars across his face the three simultaneously went pale and straightened to attention while saluting as Jones leaned against the door frame frowning turning down his glare.

"Mister Jones! Sir I Was Not Aware You Were Not On Site! Apologies!"

The three were ramrod straight and the salutes were so crisp they could have cut bread. Jones merely sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Guys relax... ummm at ease."

Gesturing at them with his coffee free hands they did as he did through even their posture then would have made a drill sergeant cry. Their posture fine but... they were starting to sweat... or in the case of the middle one ooze a bit...

"Yes Sir!"

"Guys will you~"

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU THREE DILLHOLES TO CHEC... Good Evening Mister Jones I Did Not Know You Were On Site!"

Jones sighed loudly ignoring this and the Mister. It never sounded like Mr. Always Mister... as in "Mister please step away from the big red button." He glared a bit bitterly at the four. The huge man...ish creature covered in hair in full tac armor with small voddoo dolls taped to it had come and one seeing Jones had stood up ramrod straight so of course the other three had copied him. Jones thumped his head a bit against the door frame once.

"At ease I said"

"Ye~"

"And lower your voices, I am standing right here. You can just talk instead of shouting."

Rather then putting them at ease the four seemed more nervous by this offer. This... just talking with this old looking human. Jones rubbed his hear as the officer in charge who had just showed up looked at Jones's lips and raised a hand.

"Sir...sir. Do you need cigarettes. I can send someone to get some for you."

Jones raised an eyebrow and reached for his... and patted empty air. He gestured towards his coat on the chair.

"They are over there. I am good."

The four visibly tensed relaxed a bit at this. A silenced settled in for a few seconds before Jones broke it.

"So what ARE you doing?"

The oozing one blinked and answer.

"Sir we were checked the perimeter to make sure no vamps were in the vicinity while the clean up crew did their thing. They didn't need us so Sar.... So we Volenteered..."

Jones looked to the tall hairy... man.

"Your idea?"

He seemed more nervous then ever and nodded slowly in the face of almost certain death.

"Damn good one. Carry on."

The man seeing that death had passed him by breathed and... smiled a smile of pure pride, like a child praised for climbing Mt. Everest, swimming the ocean, getting a A on the final, and Passing their drivers test all on Christmas day. Jones was already turning as the.. man began to shout at the other three about checking the perimeter so throughly that 'not even an ant could get through'. Jones gestured at a little window built into the shops door and it opened just a hair so Jones could listen as he sipped his coffee.

"Sir shouldn't we check in the shop the owner is~"

There was a sound of three hands simultaneously hitting someone upside their helmet and a low spoken voice explaining.

"Son... if their was a vampire hiding it is either a pile of ashes in their or outside where it TRIED to get away from him. You heard what he did in Nebraska right?"

Jones mouthed 'Nebraska' confused, caught Anya's eye and shrugged as he gestured at the window and it closed. Walking to her he relaxed again on the chair.

"... Okay no idea what the Nebraska thing was about... gonna have to find out what rumor is going around but apparently due to the fact I am the only human in the company to kill as many monsters as I have without a few mass genocidal incidents like your friend... Buffy?... who names their kid that anyways?... the boys seemed to have... blown my rep out of proportion. It is... kinda flattering but also depressing how many men, women, and other buy it in the company. Also.. they think if I am not continuously supplied with nicotine I will kill someone for looking at me funny... which was a coincidence and he was a gargoyle in disguise."

He shrugged again.

[Anya]

For a demon who'd cursed plenty of people into cowering, unrecognizable messes, Anya could be pretty...jumpy. She wasn't quite sure why. Maybe spending those recent few years as a vulnerable, defenseless human had done it to her. But when the sharp knocking at the door sounded, she nearly jumped right out of her skin, coming dangerously close to knocking her cup off coffee over as she tensely turned in her seat to stare at the door. Before she could move to get up, however, Jones was on his feet - and motioning for her to stay where she was. She hesitated a moment, tilting her head slightly and shooting him a questioning look. Really, though, what she'd just seen him do in the alleyway pretty much proved that he was capable of handling just about anything. So...maybe it wasn't a bad idea to let him take this one. Fidgeting slightly in her seat, Anya craned her neck slightly to look as Jones swung open the door.

Three men stood in the doorway - and this was just a wild guess, but Anya somehow didn't think they were here to shop. The shouting and general commotion they greeted Jones with was enough to make the vengeance demon wrinkle her nose slightly in distaste, but she wasn't particularly looking to draw attention to herself at the moment and decided that keeping quiet was the best course of action...for now.

...Evidently...these people all knew Jones. Judging from the attentive respect they were treating him with, he seemed to be their superior. Well, that was...relatively reassuring! At least he'd probably be able to keep them from charging in here, breaking every (probably very expensive!) thing that crossed their paths as they went along investigating their 'very important business'. Anya eyed them with a mixture of confusion and distrust as the conversation continued, eventually shifting to something that Jones had done in...Nebraska? What did that mean? She glanced at him nervously and was surprised to find that he looked nearly as confused by this as she did. Or...maybe it was the other three men who were confused, seeing as they seemed to be talking nonsense at the moment. After a moment, Anya gave a slight roll of her eyes. Humans.

She only fully relaxed again when the door had closed and the men were out of sight, her expression lightening into a small bemused smile as Jones returned to his seat. "You know, it's probably a good thing that they're making you sound terrifying." she commented thoughtfully after a moment. "Um. Not that they need to, of course. You're pretty scary - in a good, monster-killing way. But you know, rumors like that one will be sure to keep angry creatures of the night and...generally irritating people alike away from you." Anya grinned broadly - no one could say that she wasn't optimistic. Even if her definition of 'optimism' was a little odd and...well, not always as comforting as she meant it to be.

"And the whole nicotine thing - well, you're probably already aware that it'll kill ya to death. I'd suggest finding a healthier habit, but compared to hunting monsters...nicotine looks kind of harmless." Her words were blunt and matter-of-fact as per usual, but she didn't even stop to worry whether she was saying the wrong thing. Somehow, Jones didn't strike her as the sensitive type. With another curious glance towards the door, Anya couldn't help but add, "Who were those clowns, anyway?"

[Jones]

Jones sat and thumbed his hand over his shoulder at the recently closed door. He rolled his eyes a little as he did so as he reached for his hit flask which once again wasn't there. He glared at his empty hand as if it had betrayed him and cursed himself for not mentioning his lack of alcohol but they always brought him safe stuff, wimpy stuff... like vodka or whiskey. He needed something pretty strong like Midnight Hobo... he didn't know why the men were against it after all Jerry had only gone temporary blind when he took a sip, and Franklin was found the next day... sure he was in the next state yelling over the payphone about someone having stolen his pants but they found him alright.

"Those were Wings they work for Icarus the company I work for. They... well I hear a lot of Wolfson and Heart or whatever they call themselves, We are kinda like their little rebel brother. While they support their clients in madness and evil we seek to stabilize the world, a stable world is better for business... at least that is the official line. I use this job to kill monsters that need killing. Wings are kinda the assault team while I am what they call a Talon, we are Specialists, I can't hack, or reprogram a DVM player or whatever you kids.... those kids have nowadays. But I am about as good as it gets with prolonged violence against things that rip most people in half. When a situation needs a small direct action, or someone who can sorta blind in till they need drastic intervention they send me or someone like me... Though I tend to give bosses migraines because I refuse to follow their guidelines."

He indicated her shop taking it in with his hand as it traced a lazy arc through the place.

"You are the same way is my guess. You opened up this business because you wanted to run things your way, not under someone elses. The only reason I work with most of those..."

Catching a almost slip of the tongue in language Jones would never speak around a lady he shifted gears. Jones was an old fashioned man, practically prehistoric in fact and he was raised to believe you did not use inproper language around a lady. It was simply not something you did.

"...Chumps... is because well..."

Jones looked deep in his cop of coffee, the ages falling back on him like snow. He saw the reflection of the old man in the black and grimaced.

"I don't imagine I have a whole lot of years left in me. I have beat all kind of odds just being alive right now. I think at times... I wanted to die. But I cannot die, I must be killed and I refuse to die until I find that... thing..."

Jones teeth ground in his jaws, his fingers clenched to the point you could almost hear the coffee cop creaking under pressure. His irises contracted to pinpoints.

"That took everything from me in one night... and left it with nothing..."

He was squeezing harder and harder... and their was a knock on the door again. Jones's eyes snapped up to glare at it, his hate redirected... and then he slowly released his grip on his cup, surprised he hadn't left fingerprints in it. He stalked to the door and yanked it open.

"What?"

He still glowered but was calmer. On the other side of the door was a nervous looking man in a suit, he held a pack of cigarettes out like a crucifix. He stammered.

"Sir... the... physics were picking up some rage... alot of rage... they were kinda bleeding out their ears... and I wanted to make sure you had a pa~"

Jones's head hit the door and... his shoulders started to shake and... a cold brittle laughter could be heard. The suit looked even more nervous but as Jones looked up he seemed more relaxed. As if he had shoved something out of his system.

"No thanks. Tell the kids I am sorry. I will be by later to tell them another story."

The suit breathed out and pocketed the pack. He smiled happily at Jones.

"Good to hear that Mister Jones, I know they look forward to seeing you. Sorry to disturb you Mister Jones, Ma'am."

The suit nodded at Anya and waved as Jones closed the door. Jones looked at Anya and shrugged tiredly.

"Old wounds hurt the most... as for the kids before you ask we find strong physics as kids, train them so they don't go... bug nuts, and employ them. They tend to be simple and closed knit but... they trust me and seem to like my stories so... Anyways... I have answered some of your questions how about we play it both ways. You answer a question of mine, I answer one of yours, back and forth till we both have the info we want. If you are willing to play I got to ask first of all... Buffy?... Her parents really named her Buffy?... Are you sure they liked her?"

[Anya]

No one had ever said that Anya was particularly good at the whole 'neutral reaction' thing. In fact, she really wasn't good at it at all. And when Jones compared the company he worked for to Wolfram and Hart, she was unable to keep herself from immediately tensing a little. Anya herself had never had a run-in with the business, but she'd heard plenty about the trouble they had caused Angel's crew in LA in the past. Though from what Jones was telling her, the whole 'stabilizing the world' thing made the people he worked for sound a little better in comparison. She relaxed after a moment, giving a brief nod of understanding when he mentioned that he wasn't one to follow guidelines. Yes, Anya was very much the same way - in her opinion, rules were made to be broken. ...Well...unless breaking them landed you in jail, or something. That would probably be unpleasant.

Although she'd been fairly attentive in his presence up until this point, she'd been a little fidgety - but when Jones continued on...Anya's full, complete attention was suddenly focused directly on him. She sat bolt upright in her chair, every muscle tensed, her hands suddenly dropped at her sides and completely still. The vengeance demon most certainly hadn't been expecting that sudden rush of rage, of vindictiveness, that tainted Jones' words as he spoke. There was no mistaking what Anya had just sensed from: he was out for blood. For revenge, against...someone? Something? Keeping uncharacteristically silent, she studied him intently. She was, after all, a vengeance demon - and right now every instinct was screaming at her to offer him a chance for retribution.

...But of course, that wouldn't solve anything. Not for him - an not for her, either. Doing something like that would only push her back towards everything she'd been trying so relentlessly to get away from. Still, though, it was clear that Jones had a story to tell here - and Anya was utterly fascinated by it. Before she could open her mouth to speak, however, there came another knock at the door. With a quick eye roll, the demon turned to see who it was. New York was just impossible - you killed a couple of vampires, and suddenly the place was crawling with people who wanted to know the who's, what's, where's, when's...

Well, whatever. The man standing at the door was babbling about something - evidently Anya hadn't been the only one who'd sensed Jones' sudden rush of rage - and for a moment, just judging from the tension in Jones' shoulders, Anya was...kind of fearing for the man in the doorway's life. But then, all at once, he seemed to relax...and with a few surprisingly calm words, dismissed the stranger in the suit. Biting back her curiosity, Anya gave a short nod of her own in return when the man made eye contact with her, and then watched idly as he departed again. "You know a lot of very interesting people." she commented as Jones returned to his seat, blinking once - and then just deciding to accept the fact. That had been far from the strangest thing she'd heard tonight, after all.

She considered the idea he was proposing for a moment; a little question game. Really, Anya didn't see why they shouldn't - he'd had plenty of chances to harm her already, and vice versa. She very much doubted he'd have a reason to exploit any information she might give him at this point. And besides...she really was curious about him now. Jones could be fighting vampires or radiating fury one moment, and calmly sipping his coffee as he spoke to her the next - he even shocked a laugh out of her with his comment about Buffy's name. "Yes. Buffy. Really. Buffy Summers." she informed him matter-of-factly, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. "It doesn't sound very intimidating. In fact, she doesn't look very intimidating. But she can kick a hell of a lot of monster tail when she wants to." Anya paused thoughtfully, biting her lip a little as she contemplated something. "She stabbed me through the heart with a sword once." she decided it was safe to add casually.

Right...but...her fight with Buffy, and the circumstances that had caused it, weren't really things that the demon wanted to think about at the moment. But she'd answered his question, at least. "So I get to ask you something now, right?" Brightening somewhat at the thought, she opened her mouth to ask him about whatever it was that had elicited such vengeful emotions from him a few moments ago...but then, surprisingly, she caught herself. Whatever it was, the memory of it had made Jones dangerously angry. Anya still wanted to know, naturally - in fact, she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to keep her curiosity in check - but maybe...that wasn't the best thing to ask him right off the bat. Immediately trying to cover her tracks by jumping to the next thing that came to mind, she swept her gaze over him quickly - and thankfully, was struck by an idea.

"That chain you were using," Anya begin tentatively. "Where did you get it? Or did someone give it to you? Does it have special powers?!" Really, how did someone just...come across a weapon like that? She'd never seen anything like it! But then...her own words echoed in her ears and she blinked, her expression turning slightly sheepish. "...Um. Sorry. That was three in one. ....I'm kind of bad at this game."