Anya awoke and stretched, but froze when the spot beside her was empty. She sat up quickly, and was relieved to see Butch just making breakfast by a small fire that was struggling to maintain its composure.

"Why didn't you wake me?" She said, gathering her clothes and shoving them on hastily. She shivered slightly in the cold morning air. Dogmeat struggled to stand on his feet, his old bones aching in the cold. He wandered off into the wooded area behind camp, but Anya didn't worry, she knew he'd be back.

"Dunno, you looked peaceful. Didn't wanna wake ya," he said, watching Dogmeat amble away.

"Well, I plan on making it to Megaton today. I want to restock and rest a little while before I have to go to Old Olney," She said. He froze for a second before going back to what he was doing, shoulders slumped. Anya raised her eyebrow at him, but didn't comment.

"Quite a walk," was all he said. She didn't reply but rather followed Dogmeat's path into the woods to do her morning routine, returning with the mutt.

They ate a small breakfast of quail's eggs and dry toast in silence and packed up camp much in the same fashion. They set out just as the sun was peeking over the distant mountains and by noon they were almost half of the way to their destination.

Nightfall rolled around as they strolled into Megaton, tired and hungry. The sheriff greeted her with a tip of his hat and continued his usual patrol. Butch looked more nervous than ever, and as Anya was about to ask what his problem was, a woman's shrill voice echoed through the crater.

"Butch?" She said. She strolled from the crowd still gathered around the now deactivated atom bomb. She was a foot shorter than Anya and had visibly more curves. She looked to be a few years younger as well, with wavy brown hair and brilliant hazel eyes. She smiled as she approached, and the smile set Anya on edge. Dog meat hobbled off to Anya's housing unit and she knew the dog could get in easily on his own.

"Mia, the caravan is still here?" Butch asked, voice distant. He gazed out over the crowd, trying to see if they really were here, panic written in his features.

"Yup, we've been waiting for you to come back, and look! The elders were right, you did come! I'm so happy!" exclaimed the girl as she snaked her arm through Butch's. Anya glared at the contact as the woman thrust her hand out towards her.

"I'm Mia, first daughter of our caravan's Matriarch," she said, smile still alight on her face. Anya shook her hand curtly with a crushing grip that made the girl wince.

"Lone Wanderer," she said, taking pleasure in the way the girl's eyes widened in awe.

"You're Anya?! Three Dog talks so highly of you, you're like a celebrity! I can't believe I've met you! How do you know Butch?" She asked, excitement clear on her face at meeting Anya.

"We grew up together in vault 101. He used to be a total ass to me," Anya said, elbowing Butch in the ribs and not softly.

"You...? Butch, why didn't you say you grew up with the Lone Wanderer?!" The woman screeched, bouncing in excitement. She was so much like a child that Anya wanted to strangle her.

"Guess it never came up," he mumbled, voice strained. His eyes darted everywhere, but he refused to look at the two women. Anya sighed.

"You two obviously have some catching up to do. Butch, find yourself some new armor, your tunnel snake get up won't protect you out there. You need something light but effective. My house is right up there," she said, pointing to her house, a reward for successfully disarming the bomb.

"New armor? Are you going somewhere?" Mia said, tilting her head a little to the side, and Anya be damned if she didn't think the girl was cute in that moment.

"Olney Power works. The Brotherhood has inquired of me to get a tesla coil from there," Anya said. The girl's eyes widened more.

"But that's so far! What about the ceremony?" She said and Butch flinched.

"What ceremony?" Anya said, quirking a brow.

"Me and Butch are to be married! It's so hard finding a healthy male out here that the Elders saw it fit for us to be paired together so our race doesn't go extinct!" The girl said, and Anya felt her anger flare.

"I thought you told them no," she spat at Butch. He brought his eyes to her, but quickly looked away without saying anything and Anya bristled inwardly.

"We've already started the ceremony, but then Butch came up missing, so we've all been waiting here for his return," Mia said, gripping Butch's arm.

"Already started the ceremony?" Anya questioned, clearly confused.

"Well...yeah. It-it's kinda awkward to talk about, but we coupled on the night he disappeared. We didn't get to fini-"

"You lied to me?" Anya said, turning on Butch and trying her hardest not to raise her voice. Her posture took on an aggressive stance and he raised his hands, palms facing her in case she raised her fists against him. He knew that she wasn't the weak woman he used to torture, and he was sure she could do some serious damage if she really wanted to. And boy, did she really want to right then.

"What? No, I never lied to you! I promise Anya, I never lied to you!" Butch said, hopelessness in his voice and eyes. He took a step towards Anya, but the burning hatred in her eyes halted any further motion.

"I can't believe you...I should've known! I should've known that someone who never showed anything but hate towards me in my childhood would lie to me. God I'm so stupid. And you started acting strange as soon as I said we were coming to Megaton to restock. I should've known!" Anya shouted, fighting back tears as a hole was ripped into her heart. He began to speak again but she spun from him, throwing her hands into the air in frustration. He caught her wrist and held tight as she tried to escape from his grip. She fought against his hold, but he was still stronger than she was, thanks to the all-loving Mother Nature.

"Mia, get out of here. I'm not going back with you. Tell the elders that they can shove their traditions up their asses. I want nothing to do with you guys anymore!" Butch yelled over his shoulder.

"But...Butch..." Mia said, her entire figure drooping like a deflated balloon. When Butch didn't respond, tears sprang from the girl's eyes and she hurried away. Butch dropped on his knees beside Anya in a submissive way, trying to look up into her downcast face without success, though it was more or less to put all his weight on her arm to keep her from easily escaping.

"Anya..I promise you that nothin' happened between me and that girl. The ceremony was started, yeah, but I slipped away before I made it even close to her tent," he said, reaching out to her. She took him roughly by the wrist and twisted his arm, rendering him useless as he fell completely to the ground.

"Gah! Why would you do that?!"

"Don't...don't touch me," she muttered, wrenching her hand from his as if his skin had burned her.

"Damn it, Anya, would you listen to me!" Butch shouted, picking himself up and rubbing his arm. "Nothin' happened! I didn't even know her! I still don't know her! How can I get it through your thick stubborn skull that nothin' happened!"

"Just..leave me alone Butch," she whispered. He rammed his fists into the building beside him.

"Not until you listen to me, damn it!," He yelled. Anya sighed and glanced at him.

"I am listening, but I wasn't there. I don't know what to believe, Butch," she said simply.

"Believe me. I can't l-love a woman I don't know. And you know how hard it is for me to spill out what I'm feelin', right?" He said. Yes, she did know how hard it was for the stubborn fool to tell how he felt. It was a manly pride thing, but it was also something else with Butch. Growing up without a father, he always had to be the tough guy, the man of the house. But now he was like her and had nothing to really live for except their beliefs.

"Yeah, I guess," was her lame reply.

"Move it along kids, you're making a scene and disrupting my town," Lucas Simms, the town's self-appointed sheriff, said.

"Sorry, man, we'll take it off the streets," Butch told him. He took Anya's hand and led her off the main street, asking where her house was. She led him there and nearly succeeded in slamming the door in his face...if only his reflexes weren't so quick. He stuck a booted foot between the door and frame just in time and pushed his way into her dilapidated house. She stood awkwardly by the bed, unsure if she should ask him to sit. There was hardly anything in the place, as she never was around much to stay for an extended amount of time. The only furniture in the place was the bed, a small metal desk, and a crookedly standing chair, and off to the side was a separate room serving as a bathroom. Stairs led to a possibly dangerous loft that she never used out of fear that it would collapse under even a bird's weight. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Butch sighed and muttered a curse under his breath.

"I'm serious, Anya. Nothin' happened between us. I didn't want her, but she was forced on me anyway, so I left. Simple as that," he said, frustration easing its way into his features.

"I don't know if I can trust you, Butch. So far in my life, the only person I've ever been able to trust is myself. And Dogmeat." The dog's head lifted from his mound of cushions when he heard his name, and his tail thumped on the sheet metal floor.

"I don't know how to show you that you can trust me. Hell, I will take you outside right now and...m-make love to you..right in front of everyone if I have to." Anya couldn't help but laugh at the blush that rose and spread across Butch's face. No, he definitely wasn't one for public displays of affection. She sighed as her laughter edged away.

"Come on...let's go get food and get some rest," she said, leading him to the small place called Moriarty's Saloon. People were still milling about, and Anya wondered if any of them were from the caravan. Judging by the glares some of them gave, she guessed they were. She sat heavily in the stool at the bar. She ordered something light and pushed the bits around her plate when she heard a distinct snuffling behind her and turned her head to see Mia sitting in the corner, surrounded by people. What was left of Anya's appetite fled her and she turned back, glaring at her food and jabbing it viciously with her fork-like utensil.

"What did those poor scorpion bits ever do to you?" Butch asked lightly from beside her. She resumed stabbing them with the fork and, through her rage, popped one into her mouth. It was actually good, but it didn't help any to bring back her good mood or appetite. She consumed another for good measure, letting Moriarty know that his food wouldn't go to waste. Ever since her own dad died, he's taken to fathering her, eyeballing her to make sure she ate her meals like a good little girl. It was maddening, sometimes, but it was always nice to have a hot meal ready for her whenever she needed it.

"Everything," was all she said. Butch reached over and stilled her fidgeting hand. She looked at him and quirked an eyebrow, pulling her hand from his. He was adamant and placed it back over hers. He gripped her wrist when she tried to pull away, and he tugged her towards him. He placed a hand at the back of her neck and dragged her face to his. He kissed her, a slow hesitant kiss, and she tensed. Mia was sitting right there, watching the entire thing, and Anya would be lying if she said she didn't want the girl to see. After a few seconds she relaxed into his grip and she kissed him back fervently. He broke away and held her to him and she clung to him. He dropped the correct amount of caps onto the counter to pay for their meals and stood. Anya protested as he hauled her to her feet, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"I hear that real men of the old days used to carry their women off into the sunset," he said. She hardly had time to squeak out another protest when she went flying into the air and was draped ungracefully on his shoulder.

"Butch, put me down," she growled at him, slamming her fist into his back.

"Nu-uh, but keep that up, I need a good back massage," he said, then cursed as she tried to kick at him. He held her legs firmly in place and carried her out of the saloon, whistling in a haughty manner. Anya caught a glimpse of Mia's stricken face and felt bad for the girl. It wasn't her fault, not really. It was her mother that had promised the barbarian to her. Anya struggled more but soon gave up as she found it wasn't doing anything. He carried her like that until she had to unlock the door to her apartment-like house. Dogmeat yapped happily at seeing them and Butch proffered stolen goods to the mongrel. Once Dogmeat was settled back into his corner with his tidbits, Butch turned to Anya, who stood by the door. He held out a hand to her and she stared at it.

"What?" she asked.

"Well...real men make love to their women after carryin' them off, right?" His voice took on a sudden seductive and husky tone. Anya's heart thudded in her chest and she looked away as warmth spread across her face and pooled at the bottom of her stomach. He sauntered over to her and reached past her to lock the door. He moved closer to her and she retreated until eventually her back was completely against the sheet metal wall. He moved closer still, until they were almost touching.

"Butch..." she said, about to turn him down. She was tired and frankly still a little heartbroken.

"Anya...beautiful Anya," he muttered, stringing his hands through her silvery locks. "You have nothin' to fear...I'm just' here to love and cherish you."

He kissed her, a soft and unhurried kind of kiss. He was testing to see if she would push him away and be done with him. She even brought her hands up to his chest, meaning to deny him, but the shove never came. Instead she found her hands laced in his feathery hair, pulling him closer. At that point, the kiss grew beyond hesitant and shy to something more wild and fierce. Suddenly, Anya froze. She pushed at him and struggled against him.

"N-no.." she said, remembering why she was mad at him. Their struggles were cut short by a rusted railing outside snapping under someone's weight. A feminine voice cursed not too long after. Encircling her with his arms, Butch reached over and flicked the tattered curtain aside. Mia sat up on the small hill just outside Anya's house, looking as though she had just fallen over.

"Shoulda known she would follow us here," Butch muttered and bent Anya backwards over the desk. His kiss had no emotion, and with wide eyes, Anya observed him glaring pointedly at Mia. The girl screamed in rage and stormed away, nearly tripping on the rocks in her furious fleeing. He pulled away and chuckled darkly, releasing Anya. She had to catch herself on the desk, else she would have tumbled to the floor. Butch stepped to the door, his head down.

"Where are you going?" Anya asked grimly.

"I wanna find out more about this...place...we're goin' to. And you obviously don't wanna be in my company, so I'll jus' leave ya be," he muttered. He left then and Anya didn't bother trying to stop him.

Morning rolled around and Anya woke, finding herself curled up in the corner of her bed, still wearing her leather armor. She was stiff, old wounds making themselves known, but she felt strangely refreshed. She looked around but didn't find Butch. Frowning, she didn't recall him returning the night before. She rose and stretched, washing her face in the basin-like sink that was in the other room. She slung her sniper rifle over her back and left, making sure to leave some snacks out for Dogmeat. She left the door unlocked so the old dog could follow when he pleased.

She walked to the middle of the cratered city and looked around. From this vantage point, she could see just about everything. The atom bomb had been removed, much to the church's disgruntlement, and the water had been purified. She trudged up the steep incline and entered Moriarty's saloon. Colin nodded to her and yelled out her usual order. She slunk up the stairs to the spot she normally sat when she was in Megaton besides the bar and stopped two steps from the top.

Mia had Butch backed into the far corner and was lip-locked with him. Anya bristled and curbed a very unlady-like snarl. In a flash, she was wrenching the girl away and had Butch held to the wall by his collar. Anger and hurt flashed in her fiery eyes, and as Butch began to speak, she interrupted him.

"I don't ever want to see your face around here. Take your precious caravan and leave my city, Butch," she growled, voice dangerously low. She flung herself back from him as if he had burned her. One, two, three steps back and she turned from him, shuffling down the stairs. Apparently everyone had heard her and they did their best to avert their eyes from her. No one messed with a spitting-mad woman that had a .50 caliber sniper rifle at her back. Colin halted her by thrusting a plate of steaming food at her. She paused for a second before accepting the plate. He nodded and moved from behind the counter in the direction of Mia and Butch, no doubt planning on tossing them out. She had grown fond of the older man over the many years she'd known him, and she silently thanked him. She retreated to her home and let Dogmeat out, putting the plate she'd pilfered from Colin's on the floor for the mutt to enjoy. When he finished his business, she locked the door behind him, crawling back into bed and pulling the blankets up over her head, willing the sudden tension headache to go away.

Several hours later, it was dark out. A noise outside alerted Dogmeat and he growled, looking at the door. Anya propped herself up and pulled her Blackhawk pistol close. A bang on the door made both her and Dogmeat jump and the beast growled louder, half standing and half crouching.

"A-An-Anya, open the door," came Butches voice, slurred heavily by alcohol.

"Dogmeat, shh, there's just a moron at the door," Anya said, settling herself back into her bed. More bangs echoed through the room and the last one was a sound of a pole breaking. A heavy thud sounded at the bottom of the door, followed by laughter. Anya guessed that he must have leaned on one of the rusted railings like Mia and upon the old metal giving yield to his weight, fell against her door.

"Me 'n Enrique aren't goin' nowhere until you open thish door, shweet cheeksh," Butch muttered, giggling like a maniac. Anya sighed and stood, and paused when Dogmeat looked at her as if she herself were intoxicated. Her anger at him returned, and she sat, but then stood again, knowing she shouldn't leave him out in the cold in this state.

"Lucas will have his head if I leave him out there, and there's this whole controversy about hypothermia you know," she tried to justify to Dogmeat. In two long strides, she was at the door, pulling it open cautiously. Butch slid ungracefully to the ground and stared up at her with wide eyes. She was confused. He had mentioned another person, yet she saw nobody else there. She wrestled the large, half full bottle from Butch and sniffed it. Spiced Rum, enough to make a horse drunk three times over. She took the bottle by the neck and threw it as far as she could, earning a gasp from Butch.

"No! Enrique! You've killed him, Witch!" He shouted. Anya rolled her eyes and dragged him inside by his arms. She managed to shove him into the bed and stood back, observing her work. He was slumped in an awkward position, but he didn't seem to care. He was beyond reasoning now and already lost in the realms of unconscious sleep. Anya locked the door, grabbed a blanket, and retreated to the upper floor of her house. It groaned dangerously under her, and she found herself slumped against the wall on the balcony across from where Butch lay. Sleep wasn't far off from her, and in no time she herself had nodded off with Christ, Butch, what've you done to yourself on her mind.

She awoke when first light streamed in through the fogged windows. Shivering, she tried to work the kink out of her neck and stood. Butch was no longer on the bed and she stepped carefully downstairs to look for him. She found him leaning against the wall next to the toilet, frightfully pale and almost dead-looking.

"I have never drank so much in my life," he admitted as he heard her approach, followed by him hunching over the toilet and dry-heaving. She sat by him and put her chilled hands on his forehead when he leaned back. She knew from past hangovers that it felt delightful, and he grunted in appreciation.

"Why would you do this, drink yourself into oblivion like that?" She asked, not looking at him, though she knew his eyes were closed. He was trembling under her touch and felt feverish, even having stripped himself to nothing more than a wife beater tank top and boxers. Anya guessed it to be at least 45 degrees Fahrenheit, and she was freezing, but he was burning up. She suspected more than alcohol was at play, but she didn't know for sure.

"I don't...really remember, but my head and stomach is payin' for it," he managed. He heaved into the toilet again, but the contents of his stomach had long since been expelled. Anya honestly felt bad for him as he sat back and groaned.

"God, please make it stop...I dunno how much more I can take," he whimpered.

"You did this to yourself, so you have to deal with the consequence," she muttered. She was thankful that either he hadn't heard her or he chose to ignore her choice in words. He shivered now, properly cold in the frigid weather and she rose to get him a blanket and draped it over the front of him.

"Thanks," he said tiredly.

"How long have you been up?"

"Since before sunrise." She sighed and helped him to stand, shouldering him and half-dragging him back to the bed. She placed a trash can beside him should his stomach find something else to eradicate and left him in peace, taking Dogmeat out with her so the old grunt wouldn't disturb his rest.
She milled about the town, earning glares from each member of the caravan that she saw. She ignored them, since she knew they'd never try to do anything in a town that she all but ruled. She could've easily chosen to blow the town up, but Lucas gave her the task of disarming the atom bomb on good faith. His faith and trust was put in the right person, and as such, she was pretty much the town's savior and celebrity. No, none of the caravan would raise a hand towards her. If they did, they would be shot down without so much as a second thought.

She sat in the middle of the town, drinking her cola and watching the people scurry about. There was something relaxing about being able to sit and...well...relax, for once. Her life was filled with one obstacle after another, and many of those obstacles brought pain, if not fortune. After a short while, she finished her cola and hiked back to her home with a jug of purified water for Butch. He was soundly asleep and she checked the trash can to find nothing in it. She left the jug by him and turned on her modified Pipboy. She had tinkered with it for many years, managing to fit the complicated technology into a smaller camera-like case. It was more like a PDA now, and she was proud of her work. She checked up on which 'quests' she had left, but found only one or two minor things left to do besides travelling to Old Olney. She sighed and wondered what she would do in the world when she wasn't needed anymore, when the legacy of the Lone Wanderer would end and she would all but cease to exist.

Butch groaned and stirred, slowly sitting up in the bed and putting a hand to his face. She knew he must have a monster headache, but besides a stimpak she couldn't afford, she didn't know what to do for him. She wanted to save the few remaining stimpaks for inevitable injuries in the future, but she debated giving him one to ease his discomfort. Sighing, she stood and walked to him, thrusting the jug of water to him, of which he accepted gratefully. He sipped at it, happy to find that his stomach was done with its torture.

"Thanks," he said. He replaced the lid on the jug and placed it on the floor.

"No problem. You need to keep drinking, but not too fast. You'll get dehydrated if you don't," she responded quietly. He began to nod, but winced at the motion. Sighing again, she went to her pack and opened it, dismayed to find that she had only two stimpaks left. Maybe she could do something for Moira in trade for some supplies...

"No," Butch said, sensing her intent. "Don't waste them."

"They're mine, I can do what I want with them," she said, now determined to go against his wishes. She took one and grabbed his arm, jabbing it roughly into his arm before he could protest. He grunted at the brutality in which she stuck him, a bruise welling up by the time she removed the needle from his flesh, but sighed as relief washed over his features. It was only temporary relief. But it'll keep him from complaining, she told herself, but she knew she was lying to herself. She didn't want him to be in pain, and she knew he drank that much because of her. He stood and stumbled as blood rushed to his head. She helped to steady him and he asked her to bring him outside for fresh air, dressing him in more proper public attire. She steadied him whenever needed as they walked through the town. Soon, Butch was tired out and he sat at a bar-like place.

"Anya, I don't feel so good," he said, slurring his words. His speech was as if he were still drunk off his ass, but she knew he should be sober by now.

"Butch?" She said quietly. He didn't respond, instead toppling off the stool and landing heavily on the ground. She jumped off her own stool and knelt beside him, putting a hand to his forehead again. The fever was still in place and that alone worried her. Panic began settling in when a single stream of blood streamed from his nose.

"Hey, is he okay?" A stranger asked.

"No, could you go get Moira? And tell her to bring her Rad kit, I suspect he's gotten radiation poisoning from the Rum he drank last night," Anya answered, hauling Butch to where he was in a sitting position, slumped against the wall of the bar. The man scurried off and Moira returned with him minutes later. She confirmed Anya's suspicion and asked where he'd gotten the Rum. Anya didn't know, but she had even more suspicions. A few of the town men picked Butch up and carried him off to the infirmary so Moira could examine him better.

Lucas agreed that it was foul play when they found that the bottle belonged to the caravan's supply.

Days passed and Butch was still sick with fever. Moira tried many different remedies, and on the morning of the fourth day, his fever finally broke. Anya was laying in a small cot not far from his when he awoke. She'd been exhausted with worry and stress to the point where she was passed out before her head even hit the pillow. Butch stood slowly, using the walls for support when his legs failed him. He reached out and touched her silver hair, running the strands through his fingers for a brief moment before she woke. When she saw him standing, she jumped from the bed and nearly knocked him off his feet in the process.

"Butch!"

"Anya!" He replied, his weird sense of humor kicking in almost immediately. She threw her arms around him and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Wow, if you react like this, I need to drink more often!" She pulled away and slugged him in the arm. He yelped and laughed at the sour expression on her face.

"That crazy bitch poisoned you," she said. His smile faded from his face and he stared at her.

"Mia? How?"

"You don't remember anything?" She helped him to sit on the edge of his bed when Moira brought some water to him. Moira was excited to see her remedies working, but she sensed that they wanted to be alone.

"All I remember is making a huge mistake and getting shit-faced drunk because of it. A stranger bought me a bottle of rum, and I remember it tasting off, but not caring one bit."

"Yup, one of the caravan men gave it to you. Mia bribed him with sex to kill you with radiation. Nearly succeeded, but Moira's kinda a scientist and stuff and she managed to cure you. With my research, I might add, so I kinda helped too, only I did it in the past." He gave her look that told her he thought she was slightly insane. But behind that look, she could see something else, something that honest to whatever God existed scared her senseless- love and devotion.

"Well, then. I owe it to you and Moira for saving my life," he said, kissing her softly. "Though, I think I'll only say thank you to Moira."

Arm in arm, they left Moira's place and wandered around Megaton.

Without warning, Anya was jerked away from Butch and cold steel of a gun was thrust into her jaw. Women screamed and men shouted, but all that did was cause the person to pull back the hammer. Anya's heart pounded, and she instinctively knew who it must be. Butch found his voice first, using it to form words rather than yells.

"Mia...put the gun down," he said, his voice low and he was trying his hardest to be soothing. He was unconvincing however, as the girl just shoved the gun harder against Anya's jaw. Anya could see geniune fear written in his features, and in turn that made her fearful of what could happen. Would this be the end? All the hard work she did to make the world better, the legacy she made for herself, completely destroyed by a crazy woman who didn't know when she lost?

"No! Not until you promise yourself to me, and no lies this time!" Mia shouted, voice shrill and uncontrolled.

"What're you, 17?" Anya said under her breath, earning the pistol to be jammed painfully into her neck.

"What, like you promised yourself to the guy who poisoned me? I never promised myself to you in the first place. The elders promised me to you, but I had my mind set on finding Anya the entire time. Now I'll ask again, please put the gun down before you do something I know you'll end up regretting," Butch said. Anya sensed his serenity, as he didn't use chopped words like regrettin' or somethin'. The girl's grip wavered for a few short seconds, as if his words were getting to her, but she quickly recovered.

"No! Your word! I want it now!" The girl was insane. Her hand shook and Anya took controlled breaths. Anya closed her eyes taking slow and steadying breaths before she sprung into action. She grabbed the girl's gun hand and swung her other elbow around to connect it with the side of Mia's head. Her blow hit home right after a shot rang out. Mia was shot, blood spurting out of the side of her head. The bullet was not stopped though, and the slug went clean through and continued on- straight through Anya's arm. Luck was smiling on her for the second time that month, as the pointed tip of the bullet skimmed around the bone of her upper arm and tore through naught but muscle. Anya was caught by surprise, silencing the startled yelp she held at the tip of her tongue. A second shot rang out, this one from the Blackhawk Mia held as the now dead girl's muscles spasmed. A second bullet rattled Anya, cutting through the muscle between her neck and shoulder. This time her howl was not contained, and the momentum from the higher caliber sent her spinning away from Mia. Her arm fell limply to her side as she pitched to the ground. She was caught by Lucas and Butch dropped to crouch in front of her, protecting her, should more bullets fly.

A blood-curdling scream erupted from the balcony of the Church of Atom. The woman raced down the platform, screaming at the top of her lungs about murderous pigs. She cradled Mia's still form and screeched like a wounded rabbit as blood poured onto her gown. Anya, with black spots dancing in her vision, looked around. Nobody else made a move towards the now-dead girl and Colin rushed to her.

"Anya, shit, I'm sorry I hit you, I did what I had to, I didn't mean for it to hit you as well. I should have waited, I should have," the man stammered in that thick Irish accent of his.

"It's alright, Moriarty. I've had worse," she said, smiling weakly. The woman, Mia's mother Anya presumed, stood now. She looked around and screeched as everyone stared awkwardly.

"You traitors! She was one of your own!" She screamed at her caravan. "And you! You murdered my baby, a child! All she wanted was a worthless mutt's love, and you murdered her!"

"Now that's enough!" Lucas yelled over the woman, setting Anya down to stand. "Anya is a hero among this town! Your girl was about to commit the same crime, and Colin did what had to be done. You and your caravan are hereby banned from Megaton and are never to return, do you understand me? Anya is one of our own, and all your girl has done is cause trouble by seducing every man possible."

"Liar! My baby was an angel, she would never do such a thing!" The woman screeched. The black spots now threatened to completely cover her vision and Anya tried to control her breathing. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, trembling.

"Anya?" Butch asked warily. "Mr. Simms, deal with this later. I...I'm too weak right now to pick her up and she needs a doctor, quick."

"N-no..I'm fi-fine," Anya protested. Her vision wavered and went out, her body going limp as Lucas had Colin pick her up.

Anya wove in and out of consciousness throughout her "operation". All it really was that they were doing was cauterizing her wounds and stitching them. Once she awoke to Doc Church prodding painfully against the muscle in her neck and she cried out. Butch was there in an instant and she focused on his quiet comforting, focusing on his voice before she slipped into darkness again.

The next time she woke, she was in the familiar surroundings of her home. She lay on her back in her bed. Butch sat beside the bed, his head resting on his arms crossed at her side. His breathing was heavy and even, a sign that suggested he was asleep. She tried to move, but pain lanced up her neck and down her arm, causing a gasp to escape from her. Butch jolted awake, rubbing his eyes before realizing Anya was awake. He stood quickly, knocking the battered stool over.

"Anya? How do you feel?" He asked, taking her uninjured hand in his own.

"Like...I've been shot," she said wryly, a giggle bubbling up at her horrible joke. Pain shot through her again and she sobered instantly.

"Jesus, I never thought that...girl...would've been crazy enough to do it. Before I got drunk off my ass, she told me she'd do it if I didn't promise myself to her. I never thought she'd actually..I thought I was going to lose you..." he broke off.

"Aww, you're getting all choked up over me? How...touching, but I'm too stubborn to die," Anya said, her voice strained but hinting at a joke. He smiled hesitantly and squeezed her hand. She reached out and stroked his feather-light hair without much thought. When he looked up, he could see a tenderness in her eyes that had never been there before.

And he knew it was the beginning of something amazing.