Copyright- Hi Joss waves I know, I told them that the characters all belong to you and Mutant Enemy. Joss, why are there cops behind you? With their billy clubs out.... You get the picture ;)

UPDATED VERSION

A/N- 1st off, warning for character death (but no character created prior to season 7). And second off , spoilers for season 7.

Basically, I'm rearranging the results of chosen. characters who need not be here, go away, characters i love, get to stay. And the title will be explained next chappie!

Please read and enjoy And thanks bunches,xanya-forever , for beta-ing! Everyone, read her fics!

FYI , words in Italics are thoughts by the character.

This chapter was updated, and thanks to QuickEdit, the thoughts are now in Italics. I also Fixed spelling errors and other minor things.

::::REWARDED::::Chapter One:::: Fighter's Death::::

- - - PROLOGUE - - -

"I can't do this."

"Wha-?" Willow asked, looking up to survey the room. Candles and flashlights were scattered amongst the S.I.T.'s, who were eating the remnants of Andrew's and Anya's raiding gig. She recognized the voice, but it sounded different, more distant. Looking up, she saw Kennedy staring at her from across the poorly lit room, the food in her hand forgotten. She spoke again, but her mouth never opened.

"I'm sorry, Wills. Really I am. It's just.." Kennedy's voice trailed off in her head, then found it's way back. "I'm looking for fun. Which, you have been. It's just, you deserve more than that. More than me." Their eyes still linked, Kennedy smiled sadly. "Friends?" she asked, still speaking through thought. Standing up before Willow could protest, she left her dishes lying on the living room floor, and walked out.

Before she could stop them, tears welled in her eyes and silently rolled down Willow's cheeks, but with only the glow of candles to silloutte her body, nobody saw the pain in her eyes. Soon, a soft squishing sound brought Willow from her watery trance, and she looked up.

"Okay, who left their cold soup in the path of my Green Lantern socks?" Andrew asked, looking ridiculous, and, with his hands on his hips and mushy foot lifted behind him, rather like a flamingo.

Chapter 1

Kennedy turned from the principal's office where the recently white-haired Willow lay in a satisfied, giggling heap. Hurrying down the hall, she came to a battle in progress. Well, if you could call it a battle. Anya was trying to hold her own against a Bringer as Andrew huddled in a corner, whimpering as another approched him slowly. She ran towards the fray as a bringer appeared behind Anya, and poised its dagger.

"Hey!" Kennedy screamed, and both bringers spun around. Andrew and Anya were forgotten as the bringers sensed a slayer. Tightening her grip on the crimson sythe in her hand, she charged at them both, and they each went in a different direction, increasing the distance between them and making sure that they were on either side of kennedy. She couldn't help the grin that made it's way onto her face. The weapon in her hand was pulsing energy, it engulfed her. Turning to face the bringer on her right, she swung the ax-like blade of her weapon and with one clean swipe, took the head from its black-robed shoulders. As she watched the body fall to the ground, her brain, thrumming with adrenaline, barely acknowledged a scream from behind her. She whipped around to see the other bringer infront of her now. Before she could think to move, they brought their dagger up in an under hand arch, and caught her right above the navel, cutting into soft flesh. The force of the motion lifted her off the ground and drove the knife deeper, until the blade reappeared out her back. Eyes wide with shock as her entire body went numb, her weapon fell from her grasp and clattered to the ground. The bringers stong arm held her in mid-air for a moment, before they re-tracted it, and Kennedy fell limply to the ground.

With a cry of fury, Anya charged at the bringer, her anger aiding in her strenght as she sliced her sword through its neck. The bringer fell a few feet from Kennedy's convulsing body. Anya disregarded it and flew to Kennedy's side, carefully, rolling the girl onto her back. Her top was drenched with blood and Anya automatically placed her hand's over her navel, putting pressure on the wound. A single angry tear fell down her face as she tried to force Kennedy to stay awake.

"Hey you! Gay slayer! Stay focused! We need to get you out of here! Pronto!" Anya watched for a reaction, and Kennedy struggled to keep her eyes open as she coughed out orders to Anya.

"Go. You NEED to get the sythe to Buffy." She rasped out, her voice and breathing shallow.

"I can't. We need to find a first aid kit. Or the nurses station" Anya almost screamed back.

"Anya." she paused and fought to take a breath. "If you don't, they'll ALL die." Taking Anya's bloodied hand in hers, Kennedy lead it to rest on the shaft of the ax. She gasped and began choking and coughing, and Anya watched helplessly as the fire slipped from her eyes and her head fell limply to the side. All she could do was stare, until a strangled whimper from behind her pulled her back to humanity. Spinning around, she saw an ashen faced Andrew on the ground, flush against the wall. His eyes were locked on Kennedy's unmoving body and the blood pooling around it slowly, and his quivering hands were gripped over his mouth. Anya ran over to him and knelt down.

"Andrew?" She said worridly. As a vengence demon, she had seen enough people go into shock or even insane after witnessing what he had just saw. When he looked up at her, tears were streaming down his face. She continued. "I have to go down into the seal and give this to Buffy." He just looked at her blankly. "If I'm not back in 5 minutes, take that sword over there and go find Xander or Giles." She scanned his face for anything. A trace of worry, fear, or any emotion. Nothing. She stood up, sighing, with sythe in hand. "Well, wish me luck, nerd boy."

So much blood. Did Jonathan bleed this much?

Andrew watched numbly as Anya walked away. Five minutes. He had heard that much. He lifted his arm and examined the watch on his wrist. It read '9:34'. Five minutes. He cast a glance over the room, and his eyes fell on Kennedy again. The puddle around her was growing wider.

So much blood.

He watched as the crimson circle slowly grew larger. It made his stomach flip to watch, but he couldn't look away. He surveyed his watch again. '9:42'. Eight minutes had past and Anya wasn't back. He couldn't just leave Kennedy alone, so he stayed there anyway. Shifting nervously on the ground, he felt something poke him in the butt. Searching through his pockets, he took out a small pan flute. It was the very first one Tucker had given him. When Buffy told them to bring only what they could carry on their person, this was the only thing he had taken. It was the one he had learned to summon demons on.

Summon demons...

The thought stuck in his mind. Anya was a demon, or at least she used to be. By modifying the summoning chant, he could probably teleport her right back to this spot. But there was one other ingredient he needed.

Blood.

He kept an image of Anya's smiling face in his mind as he crawled along the floor. Closing his eyes, he dipped the end of the pan flute into the redness pooling around Kennedy's body. He stifled a gag as realization flooded over him. This wasn't just a random body. It was Kennedy. Sweet, manly, butch in that way only she could be, Kennedy.

This is all for Anya. Think about Anya. Or Captain Kirk. Strong, brave, Captain Kirk...

Standing up and moving as far away from the bodies as possible, Andrew blew in the end of the flute not adorned with now-dried blood, and then, setting it down, he recited the chant from memory, improvising where he wasn't sure what fit.

"Minuo ex inculpatus,refero Anyanka, prior malum, procul ille positus. Blood drawn out of an innocent, bring back Anyanka, former evil, to this place." Andrew was aware of how incredilby sketchy that sentence was, and how horrible he was at forming latin sentences period. But he had heard Willow say before that it wasn't the words you say, but the meaning in why your saying them, so he closed his eyes and went through the chant again. When he finished the second time, he felt a jolt of energy surge through him and push him against the nearest wall. Feeling depleated of strength, he let himself slip from conciousness.

"BUFFY!!"

Buffy spun around to see her sythe in mid air, flying towards her from Anya's outstretched arms. Grabbing it, she turned from the ex-demon and joined the battle.

Anya flew towards the jagged rocks that served as a stairway to the surface, but when she was nearly to them, she felt something grab her from behind, razor sharp claws cutting into her shoulders. She knew from the feral growls in her ear that it was a turok-han, and he quickly whipped her around to face him. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain and a tug from behind her belly button, and a feeling of panic swept over her. Forcing her eyes shut, she focused on the noises around her, the rough ground under her feet. Anything that wasn't the pain. But just as sudden as the pain had started, everything changed. The noises faded, and her feet were caressed by flat terrain.

Great. One good deed deserves a stick through the abdomin. How pleasant.

The pain in her stomach was replaced by a tingling sensation, and Anya's ears kept popping. So her curiousity got the best of her and she opened her eyes. Only to survey the upstairs of the high school where she had left the boy. Scanning the room for him, she saw him slumped against the wall lifelessly and his pan flute lying on the ground.

"Andrew." She screamed, running to his side. She grabbed his shoulders, ignoring the pain in her own, and shook him roughly. When he didn't respond, she did the last logical thing ; she hauled back and slapped him hard across the face, hoping to jolt him awake. With a groan, his eyes flutterd open.

"Anya? Did it work. The latin? And where's Captain Kirk?" He mumbled, still dazed from his little nap. Anya squealed almost silently and wrapped her arms around him, hurting them both in the process but never letting go.

"Yes, you little monkey, the stupid flute worked." She rocked back and forth with the younger boy in her arms, eyes filled with unshed tears.

A/N- Likey? No Likey? Well, just clicky the review button and lemme know. I won't continue with out reviews, because of lack of intrest. :)