Hell smells of ash. At least the Hell dimension of Arashmaharr does. It’s a horrid, ragged place, with nothing but burning rock and blood‑orange skies. Snake‑like creatures glide through the sky, hunting for skittering rat‑lizards.

In the distance, against the constant glare of twin suns, is a city. It’s old and crumbling. To the outside observer, it would be a burnt‑out hovel, containing no passing interest beyond the shattered remains of a civilisation.

But if you look closer, you’d see something more. Something not burnt. A hive of activity, right in the centre of the charred chaos.

Inside an office, which looks clean but feels dingy, sits the CEO of Vengeance LLC, the all‑powerful and demonic entity D’Hoffryn. He looks at his workers, all at cubicles. It’s laughable, but it could be a normal office.

“What is it to be a Vengeance Demon?” he asks as he turns to the long table in his boardroom. A selection of demons, all loyal to him, sit around the table, with hot coffee on the wooden surface. A chart — a progress board for vengeance — is behind him.

“Power,” he says. “We can alter reality, travel through time and space. Even, under certain circumstances, return the dead to life. But with one crucial limitation.”

He turns to his people. They all look human, but they all have vengeance amulets around their necks. Two of their number are familiar: former Sunnydale High student Jonathan Levinson and Scooby Gang member Anyanka.

“We cannot do these things of our own volition. We require the wish of a human to act upon.”

His people listen to his every word. The women gaze at their lord, taking it all in. Jonathan, the first male vengeance demon, is scribbling everything down excitedly, his tongue out of the side of his mouth.

“I cannot begin to tell you how much I hate that.” He directs Anyanka to tell them of the sorts of wishes humans make. She starts a long tirade about her best kills, including some creative horror, but D’Hoffryn is already bored. He’s fed up of their lack of inventiveness – there’s only so many times he can see spider-erupting boils – he wants something bigger. “Once in a blue moon you get to topple a government, or create an alternate universe. But those moments just make the rest of it worse. Can you imagine what it’s like? Having the power to literally do anything, yet only use it in the service of the smallest, pettiest minds?”

He holds up the Vampyr book in his hands. With it, he declares, he plans to remove those limitations.

Jonathan has questions. He thought they were already pretty powerful. D’Hoffryn agrees but power, he says, is like chocolate – the more you have the more you crave. He’s managed to strip away the magical protections on the book and now plans to write the elimination of any restriction that can stop him, instantaneously becoming magical law.

He writes in the book, speaking the words as he does. “And ultimate power will be ours to command.”

The book spits black goo at him. Jonathan thinks it may be ink. D’Hoffryn suggests he rephrase and tries again, only to receive another mouth full of black. Jonathan can’t help but snigger, but covers it with non-existent allergies.

D’Hoffryn throws the book onto the table in fury. “Something is wrong!” After Anyanka suggests Buffy is behind it, D’Hoffryn opens a window to Earth, rewinding the image so that he can envision Buffy’s last few days.

Finally, he finds what he’s looking for: Buffy, talking with Vicki, the Vampire.

“If you all believe D’Hoffryn can’t make changes in the book, then he won’t be able to. That’s how it works. The consensus of enough minds wins out. And if you just do that, I have a shot at beating him!”

D’Hoffryn snarls in anger. “Well played, Slayer. Well played indeed. Convincing the weak-willed masses you might actually defeat me. However, there is a simple way to counter that.”

He turns to the window, the rocky landscape below him. “Destroying you utterly!” he roars in defiance. As he shouts, lighting surges from his hands. It makes the demons cower, apart from Jonathan – apparently there’s a taco van outside and he’s hungry.

On Earth, in their San Francisco apartment, Dawn is overjoyed to have clean clothes again. Xander has been telling Buffy how they got home. She’s not sure about the huge risks, but she doesn’t really care — she is relieved and joyful to have them home. “I can’t summon the frownies,” she says.

Willow is surprised they managed to get home so quickly, which Xander accredits to Dawn’s powers.

“Once I stopped stressing about it and just went with it, it’s amazing what I could do. I’m gonna miss those powers. But I missed you guys more.” However, she knows the powers would have helped against D’Hoffryn.

Spike tells her they’ll handle that.

He has an armful of blades, readying weapons with Andrew. Xander wonders if the tech will work, but Buffy says they just need to weaken D’Hoffryn. She swings the Scythe in her hand. “It was created to kill Old Ones. It can handle D’Hoffryn. All I need is one good shot.”

Then, without any warning, a streak of lightning comes from the sky and the thunder clouds rumble loudly, creeping Andrew out, who screams in a pitch he shouldn’t be capable of. Spike tells him to relax — it’s only rain.

But approaching the window, Spike smells something else — a familiar smell. Copper. As Willow opens the window and sticks out her hand, little red droplets colour her skin.

It’s literally raining blood.

Willow has a second to yell a brief warning when the ceiling of the building is raised off again. The gang reach for their weapons and look up as D’Hoffryn and his vengeance demons hover over them threateningly.

“Behold D’Hoffryn!” he bellows over the rain. “He that turns the air to blood and rains death upon all who oppose him!”

Jonathan looks at the group with a sneer. “That’s you, FYI.”

Andrew recognises his friend. Spike is stunned to see Anya. He turns to Xander, who tells him, in a rush, that she’s been haunting him for a while, but then she wasn’t. Spike yells at him, but Xander yells back. “I thought I was just crazy!”

Buffy gets in his face. “And that wasn’t something you wanted to share? Last time, Xander! We’re your friends!” she yells angrily. “You tell us when you’re having rage issues, or turning into a hyena, or seeing ghosts! Especially if it’s the ghost of another friend!”

Xander knows he’s an idiot. He should have known she was created to manipulate him. But Buffy disagrees.

She looks up at D’Hoffryn, furious. “Then I am too. He was playing us all. And we were so convinced we couldn’t handle the responsibility of the book — Hell, of life — we ate it up like ice cream. This, right here… This was his plan from the get‑go.”

D’Hoffryn cackles at them. He tells Willow that her guards were impressive, as always, but now he has everything he needs: it will take him less than one more minute to dismantle them and everything they’ve done.

Willow’s response is to charge her hands with a fiery glow. “If we’re lucky. Everyone get ready. We’ll only get one shot.” The group arm themselves.

And then Buffy yells. “Now!”

All weapons, lasers, scientific ray guns and magical blasts and bursts all hit D’Hoffryn at once. Before he can recover, Buffy swings her Scythe. She runs between lasers, flipping through the beams of light as they strike at the demon and his vengeance minions scatter.

When she’s in place, she leaps into the air, the Scythe whistling, making her smile, before she’s on D’Hoffryn, a shout in her voice. She swings the Scythe and it hits him in the side of the head, where his neck is exposed.

The Scythe bounces off him as if it’s hit metal. The sound is enough to confuse Buffy, who D’Hoffryn punches back into her friends.

“Really? I expected better. But to be fair, why should I?”

Xander whispers to Dawn that they’re toast. The Summers sister yells up at the demon, tells him that he was the one who betrayed them. “What did we ever do that you deserve revenge on us?”

D’Hoffryn stops for a minute, stunned. “What… did you do? What did you do?” He shouts loudly, pointing his ancient, blue hands at Anyanka. “You took her from me! I spent centuries moulding her in my image! She was like a daughter! I loved her! You seduced her into leaving me, becoming mortal — and then you broke her heart, humiliated her and got her killed!”

The gang stop in silence. Xander is the first to speak. “He’s right. It’s our fault. My fault.”

But Buffy doesn’t buy it. She shrieks at D’Hoffryn, pointing the Scythe at him. “You tortured Anya after she left you. Destroyed her best friend, right in front of her!” She turns to Jonathan.

“That’s right, Jonathan. You’re working for a guy who incinerates loyal employees just to make a point.”

Jonathan looks nervous. He turns to D’Hoffryn. The “Termination without cause” provision in his contract has made him nervous.

Xander says that Buffy is right. “‘Never go for the kill when you can go for the pain.’ Isn’t that what he used to say, Anya?”

Anyanka and Xander lock eyes. “Isn’t that exactly what he did to you?”

D’Hoffryn shrugs their words aside and flames erupt from his hands. “Lies and distortions,” he claims. “It is time for you to die now.”

He fires his blasts at Buffy and her friends, who use a combination of magic and weapons to shield themselves. D’Hoffryn gloats as he fires.

“Your death is being broadcast to all corners of the magical world. When they see you fall and the book in my hands, their belief in my power will be undeniable!”

Buffy yells back, the shield Willow’s holding gone. Willow has taken to the sky and hovers above, powerful white light emanating from her hands.

“You didn’t really care about Anya! You were just mad that we took something from you! A possession you thought belonged to you!”

D’Hoffryn orders a minion to silence Buffy. The demons swoop down, closer to the group, but Buffy is still talking as she moves. “This was never about Anya, or love. You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

She kicks Jonathan aside with a smack. “It’s all about selfishness. All about you.”

D’Hoffryn can see Buffy coming closer and yells loudly. “Enough!”

As he speaks, a brighter light engulfs Willow, throwing her violently to the floor of the apartment. She hits hard, groaning softly as she slips into unconsciousness in Giles’s arms.

Xander continues to aim his weapon at D’Hoffryn, talking to Anyanka. “I hope you were all listening to that. Because every word of that is true. And he’d do the same to you in a heartbeat.”

D’Hoffryn summons his minions to his side. He directs two to do what he needs. He hoped it wouldn’t come to this. It will hurt Anyanka so.

“You could’ve used your power to make her stronger. Tried to help her be happy. But no, all you cared about was controlling her.” Xander channels his anger at the demon lord.

D’Hoffryn cannot ignore his words any longer. “You have sealed your fate, you useless twit. I have so looked forward to watching you die.”

As he raises his hands in anger, Anyanka stops him. “Master, wait. Let me.”

Xander looks straight at Anyanka, hoping to see something he knows. D’Hoffryn stands aside and Anyanka powers an energy bolt in her hands.

Buffy yells at the group to stop Anyanka, but they’re interrupted. D’Hoffryn fires his own blast at them, separating them from Xander.

He stares up alone at Anyanka. Buffy yells. “Xander, run!”

But he doesn’t listen. She’s not even sure if he heard her. He just stands there, still looking at his lost love, guilt written all across his face. “Anya, I’m sorry. For everything I did to you… and her.”

Anyanka looks at him. “Now, you’re sorry.”

“I’ve been sorry,” he tells her. “I still am. But that doesn’t change what I did. I don’t think Anya and I should have gotten married. And I honestly believed you needed to get away from me to figure out who you really were.”

He closes his eyes. “But I handled it badly. I abandoned you when you needed help. I deserve whatever you do to me.”

Buffy screams in protest, first at Xander’s words and then at Anyanka. “Anya, please! We were friends! I’m begging you, don’t do this.”

Anyanka comes closer. “We were never friends. Any of us.”

Then she fires her blast as the Scooby Gang watch on in horror.

Xander Harris is vaporised on the spot.

“Exquisite. You may be better than the real Anyanka.”

The Scoobies get up and look in Xander’s direction. There is a pile of smouldering ash where he stood.

Buffy, tears streaming, looks up at Anyanka. “What did you do to him?” The words barely form. Then louder: “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

Anyanka smiles. She places her hand on her heart. “Just made things even, that’s all. He made me a ghost.”

She links arms with D’Hoffryn with a smile.

“So now I’ve made him one.”