~*~
Chapter 41
~*~
 

The defense was in its fourth day of testimony.  Lindsey saw the jury's eyes glaze over as yet another historian, one more undisputed expert in their field, was called to the stand to rebut the flimsy charges of the prosecution.
 
With each day and with each witness, McDonald had dismantled the tissue-thin case the GHA had tried to pass off as valid charges against Anya.  Lindsey could go on for weeks, but he feared a bored jury could retaliate with a verdict more designed to spite him than to correctly conclude there was so much more than reasonable doubt of guilt.
 
"I call Dr. Robert Starkey to the stand," Lindsey prepared to parade his latest historian before the nearly numb jury and the too avid circus of TV cameras.
 
"Is another expert witness truly necessary, Mr. McDonald?"  The judge representing the military never had liked history, being more a man of action himself.  Already, in this exercise in futility they were calling a trial, he'd heard enough European history to make him either a candidate for an MA or to blow his brains out.
 
The Colonel had wanted to refuse the dubious honor of sitting on the bench for this sham, but at the time, the brass assured him it would be quick and the verdict a foregone conclusion.  He was meant to be no more than bemedaled window dressing.
 
"If the prosecution is willing to accept for the record the nearly universal opinion of the experts that the prosecution’s case doesn't hold water, then I'll be happy to see an end to this myself," Lindsey managed to keep a smirk off of his face with great effort.
 
Both the jury and panel of judges looked at the prosecutor with hope in their eyes.  One word from him and they could all go back home to their lives.
 
"Prosecution?"  The Colonel's voice begged for an affirmative.
 
"No, your honor.  We stand by our case and fully intend that the jury decide it on its merits."
 
Lindsey gave a piercing stare at the prosecution.  'Wonder if the asshole has an ace up his sleeve?  Juror in the pocket maybe, and looking for a hung jury?  Need to check on that.'  Not for the first time, he wished he could find a way to start a sing-along with Lorne in the room to hear it.
 
"Proceed," muttered the unhappy judge.
 
The tweed clad academician took the stand with something of a spring in his step.  It was rare that he had the chance to show off his knowledge in a forum like this.  It had never happened--even in his dreams, if he were being honest.  Why, his testimony was being televised all over the world and millions were glued to their sets!
 
He preened a bit for the cameras.  Just the night before, he'd been a guest on a prestigious news program and had been treated rather like a pop star.  On the way into the courthouse, he had even overheard the reporter call his appearance dapper to her listeners!
 
"Dr. Starkey, would you state your credentials for the court please?" Lindsey began after the formalities of swearing in were completed.
 
The old man sat up straighter and seemed bursting with pride.  "I was awarded my Ph.D in 1977 from Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge.  I am currently both a Fellow and Emeritus Professor of History at Christ's College, Cambridge.  I am a Commander of the Order of the British Empire, a Fellow at the Society of Antiquaries of London, aFellow in the Royal Historical Society, winner of the Yorke Prize, Cambridge.  I have contributed to numerous textbooks and encyclopedia articles, as well as serving as...."
 
"If it pleases the court," the prosecutor cut off the testimony.  "The prosecution concedes that Dr. Starkey is qualified in his field."  Dr. Starkey glared at the man who had terminated his moment to shine on the world's stage as brightly as he might have.
 
"Thank you," the presiding judge breathed.  "So noted.  Please continue, Mr. McDonald." 
 
Once more, Lindsey's witness utterly ripped apart every shred of validity in the prosecution’s assertions.  Once more, the judges, jury and TV viewers were reminded that historical events rarely have one trigger and that more often than not, many prior events and the choices of many people lead to cataclysms in society. Old hatreds, power plays, prejudices, ancient grudges, greed and sometimes merely complacence by the masses are most often the roots of human political and religious evil.
 
The historian whose expertise was the Tudor period of English history went through the history of religious persecution and execution that far predated Henry VIII.  He honed in on events such as the Council of Constance in the early 1400s, as well as the Oldcastle revolt that took place in the reign of Henry V.
 
By the time he began to expound on the execution of William Tyndale, the jury looked ready to strangle and burn the Doctor, the prosecution, defense attorney and every idiot who had caused them to sit through the testimony!  More than a few heartily wished the defendant was still a vengeance demon because they had some mighty creative ideas of what their wishes might be.
 
***
 
Xander flopped wearily on the plush sofa that he and Spike had appropriated just the evening before.  Down time had turned into scavenger forays into abandoned homes and businesses and, little by little, the warehouse was taking on a home-like feel.  Spike seemed to have an eye for nice items.
 
Not too many demons remained in Sunnydale.  The old lure of the hellmouth energies had been eclipsed by the heavy presence of the HGI.  So many would never return. Still, Willow insisted they keep a record of where they got everything, so that when sanity returned they could give the property back to its rightful owners.
 
 
The best find of all had been electronics.  They not only had a sizable television screen with all the bells and whistles but a top notch security system.  It used camera surveillance and alarms, not only in the warehouse area, but also the caves and tunnels where they stored the resources of the resistance. 
 
Spike’s years of not only keeping himself but his mad sire alive had given him many useful skills and plenty of experience in providing for needs. They would never be so foolish as to feel safe, but they did feel safer than they would have otherwise.
 
Buffy's favorite acquisition was a king-size memory foam bed that she and Spike had set up in their private corner of the lower warehouse.  They had taken the space supposedly to be better ready to defend their position since it was closer to the entrance to the warehouse, but everyone know the real motivation was the privacy it afforded. 
 
Spike had promised to find a way to set up a Jacuzzi tub for his lady if he could figure out how to transport it without drawing unwanted attention. 
 
"So, Harris, how was court today?  We tried to watch here, but the blithering idiots were more interested in what designer your girl was wearing," Spike rolled his eyes in contempt for what passed as news reporting.
 
"Don't forget how Mary Hart went on and on speculating who Lindsey might be dating!  I think they decided it was either Christina Aguilera, Kirsten Dunst or that hot gal from TV... um...Eliza Dushku-- like any of them have ever been to Sunnydale!"  Willow shook her head in disdain.
 
"At least that was on Entertainment Tonight, sweetie; you expect that from them.  It is sad that the actual news stations carry the same stories though," Tara added.
 
"Haven't seen this much of a media feeding frenzy since O.J. murdered his ex-wife and that waiter.  They even cut into Passions with reports that say nothing," Spike snorted.  "Since they won't allow cameras in the courtroom, they try to fill air time with everything but what's important."
 
"You didn't miss much unless you needed a sleep aid," Xander yawned as if to prove his point.  I mean, I get what Lindsey's doing--and he's doing a great job of it--but I think half the jury is in a coma by the end of the day.  I lost track of the historians and other authorities he's called to the stand.  He's pretty much shredded all the charges and theories the prosecution made.  I think Anya's finally feeling some hope."
 
"I'll just be glad when they release her and we can bring her home," Buffy sighed.  She never would have believed how much she would be missing the blunt ex-demon.
 
"Speakin' of," Spike grew serious, "how we plannin' to make the two of you disappear when it does happen?  You're both all over the TV, kinda hard to suddenly go off the radar."
 
"Actually, I've been giving that some thought." Giles looked up from the map array he'd been studying in preparation for the net targeted sabotage.  "I think it best if you both go back to your apartment for a few days after.  Give the sharks the interviews they'll be after, make a show of your wedding plans.  In short order, the intense scrutiny will fade and you'll be a nine days’ wonder.  You can confide in one of the gossip mongers that you are planning a getaway to relax after all the stress.  We can make it look like you are off on a cruise with our friends at Mexicruise and spirit the two of you back to the farm, then back here when the coast is clear."
 
Spike arched a brow, "Rather detailed for bein' 'some thought', innit there, Watcher?"  He grinned, "You've been hidin' a right devious mind all these years, old man."
 
"The only old man in this room is you, William Pratt.  I believe your date of birth was around 1853, give or take?  A full century before I came into this world," Giles pretended to be affronted by Spike’s age jibe.  The two had somehow slipped from guarded distrust and sniping at one another to a fairly congenial banter over the long year they had been in the struggle.
 
"Speaking of Lindsey, he's coming by tonight to go through some of the info we have on the jurors.  Father Mike'll guide him here from St. Jude's tunnel entrance.  Putting the door in the confessional was inspired!  Even the snoopy news groupies won't try to get in there." Xander smiled,"Of course they'll think he hasn't been to confession in years when it takes him so long."
 
"Prob’ly think it's all those women they've been tryin' to say he's shaggin'," Spike chuckled along with Xander.
 
"I have the dossiers on all the jury members, and Tara and Andrew have been looking through all the stuff in the boxes Zayde died to salvage."  Everyone felt shared unease as Willow's tone became icy and brittle.  The black eyes were even more disturbing.  She was still a stack of dynamite just waiting to blow.  Spike was certain that the only reason Riley Finn still drew breath was because he wasn't currently deployed in Southern California.
 
"Yeah," Xander tried to change the subject quickly, "Lindsey plans to end his case by putting Anya on the stand Monday and wants to be sure there's no reason to worry about the jury.  He was kinda surprised the prosecution didn't just fold by now."
 
"Maybe they're afraid if they make it look too easy that their bosses will come down on them," Buffy suggested.  "I mean, if they stay the course, play the game like they originally planned and the jury still acquits, then it’s not their fault."
 
"Makes sense," Xander nodded.  "I like that better than if we missed something."
 
"So Anya on the stand, eh?" Spike set off in a fit of giggles, startling all of them.  "Wish I could be there to see that!  Don't imagine even McDonald has her tamed enough to keep her from bein' right entertainin'."
 
"That's my girl, all with the overshare and no filters," Xander beamed proudly.  He'd come to appreciate Anya in ways he never would have imagined before this whole nightmare began.  She was honest, loyal, brave and true; and he missed her more than words could say.
 
***
 
Monday was bright and clear, all the better for the TV cameras to focus in on all the people lucky enough to get seats in the courtroom.  Today was promising to bring boffo ratings since the former demon herself was taking the stand.  A couple of the news agencies had managed to smuggle in small recording devices to capture every juicy bit of testimony.
 
“Ms. Jenkins looks cool as a cucumber in what I believe is an Alexander McQueen.  Some say he designed it just for her day in court!”   Nancy Grace barely stopped her eyes from rolling at the non sequitur that had just gushed from her erstwhile colleague’s mouth.  She wasn’t about to let her Court TV segment devolve into a fashion show!
 
“I really wouldn’t know, Karyn.  On a far more important note, we here at Court TV have been assured that full transcripts of today’s testimony will be released almost immediately after adjournment today.  Be sure to stay tuned for all the information on this groundbreaking case.”
 
Nancy turned eyes of fire on her production crew.  “Just who decided to let the bimbo open this segment today?  This is a serious show about serious subjects, not an episode of Entertainment Tonight.”
 
Luckily for her cameraman, Nancy didn’t overhear his whispered, “She just wishes she had those kind of ratings!”  The two crewmen snickered even as their headliner glared daggers their way.
 
***
 
“Please raise your right hand and swear after me…,” intoned the courtroom clerk.
 
Lindsey went over his notes as Anya was sworn in.  He hoped he’d be able to keep her natural exuberance within bounds.  It wouldn’t do for her to seem too pleased with her history.  The facts might speak for themselves but the defendant speaking had to be on point and relatively restrained to make the right impression.
 
“Please state your name for the record,” the clerk requested.
 
“Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins,” Anya dutifully and proudly proclaimed.
 
Lindsey walked towards the witness stand.  “Is that the name on your birth certificate, Anya?”
 
“Well, they didn’t have birth certificates back in my day.  Not too many people could read or write then.
 
“And when and where was that?”
 
“By today’s calendar, it was 860 and it was in a village called Sjornjost in what is now Sweden.  Of course, most people would think of us as Vikings, using today’s terms.  Sweden wasn’t actually a country in the same way as today.”
 
“And what was the name you would have been known by at that time just to make sure the record has your birth name correctly?”
 
“My parents named me Aud.  Others might have referred to me as Aud Larsdotter…that’s daughter of Lars…if they had to make sure of which Aud they were talking about. “
 
“And when did you change your name to the one you stated at the beginning of your testimony?”
 
“Oh, I started going by that name after I finished high school here.  When I was at Sunnydale High, I was going by Anya Emerson, but I didn’t think I was going to be around that long.”
 
“And why is that?”
 
“I was only there to make friends with this high school girl who’d had a boyfriend betray her so that she could make a wish for justice.”
 
“When was that, please?”
 
“1998.”
 
“And did you make that wish?”
 
“I did and it was a good one too.  She wanted a world where Buffy--that’s the Slayer--had never come to Sunnydale.  It was pretty bleak.”
 
“So you created this alternate world.  How is it that this bleak world stopped existing?”
 
“The Giles in that world--that’s Buffy’s Watcher--figured out I was a justice demon and he broke my power source.  I became human then and was stuck as a teenager here in Sunnydale.  Let me tell you, that was a pain in the neck!  There I was, over a thousand years old and having to live like I was only seventeen!  It was demeaning!”
 
“I’m sure it was,” Lindsey smiled and noted many in the jury did as well.  “Did you legally change your name to the one you currently use?”
 
“Well, no.  I read that unless you intend to defraud someone, you can call yourself anything you want to, and I liked my choice better than the one D’Hoffryn gave me when I first came to Sunnydale.”
 
“So, Anya, is that the only name by which you are called?”
 
“It is now.  When I was a justice demon, I was known as Anyanka, the Patron Saint of Women Scorned. “
 
“And when did Aud become Anyanka?”
 
“It was in 880.  My husband Olaf was cheating on me with a skanky barmaid named Rannveig and so I turned him into a troll.  I impressed D’Hoffryn--he’s the head of the justice demons--and he recruited me.  I had nothing to lose and there were plenty of women scorned, believe you me!”
 
“Is that the sort of justice you used to dispense?”
 
“Sometimes wishes aren’t that creative, but I tried to nudge the women into thinking outside of the box when I could.”  Anya remembered Lindsey’s coaching from the night before and added, “I also tried to talk some women down when they wanted more than just justice.  Sometimes that old saying about a woman scorned is really, really true!”
 
“Can you give an example?”
 
“Well, take one of the wishes I’m on trial for,” Anya offered.  “Catherine of Aragon actually wanted me to have Henry’s penis fall off right when he was having sex with Anne Boleyn.  I thought that might be too extreme and helped her focus on what would make Henry most unhappy.  Having no male heir was his biggest issue and why he put her away, so I suggested that maybe he shouldn’t get his wish for one.”
 
“So you in no way intended for the religious wars that followed?”

“There were already plenty of religious wars, even there in England.  The wish I granted only really made sure that England got one of their greatest queens in history. “Anya looked at the jury, “You know, queens are as good at ruling as kings are, and Henry should have appreciated his daughters more!”
 
“So your career as a justice demon was all about avenging wrongs done to women then?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“What about the man you were brought to Sunnydale to punish?  What happened to him?”
 
“Oh, he’s my fiancé!” Anya waved and smiled at Xander who grinned goofily back at her.
 
“He wasn’t harmed?”
 
“No, his former girlfriend got to see that she was blaming all the wrong people and also that they weren’t really right for one another and then everything went back to normal.”
 
“And this former girlfriend?”

“She moved to LA to become an actress. “
 
“And your life now…how would you describe it?”
 
“Normal, workaday folk.  I’m quite the capitalist and proud to say I run a very profitable business.  I’m a member of the Chamber of Commerce and both the Kiwanis and Rotary clubs.  Xander and I are going to get married, have 2.5 kids, a dog and probably a cat--but no bunnies, absolutely no bunnies!”
 
***
 
 
 
A/N:  Dr. Starkey is loosely based on noted Tudor historian, constitutional historian and TV/Radio presenter David Robert Starkey, Ph.D, CBE, FSA.  I am using many of his credentials for my purely fictional character and felt it only fair to credit the actual human who, while personally controversial, is considered a leading expert in his field.  My character's personality is not to be confused with the live person I used as a model for his academic qualifications.