Master Willow by psimetis

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters Willow and Tara and everything Buffy the Vampire Slayer are all rights, copyrighted and trademarked, Joss Whedon, WB, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who has a claim, but are not named. Contents of this site are a fan to fan appreciative effort and created solely for no profit or any manner of material gain, in this universe or any other existing universe.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse: /mysticmuse.net
Lair of the Wicked: /www.a-girlstudio.com/masterwillow
Feedback: If it pleases you, do :).
Spoilers: Post-Chosen.
Author's Notes: Altverse. Not Wishverse but a close resemblance.
Pairing: Willow/Tara

Summary: Willow establishes her masterdom of Sunnydale, and continues to explore her relationship with her latest possession and playmate, Tara..

CHAPTER THREE: SINGLE MOM-DOM AND THE PERFECT MATE
(Where We Are Introduced To Lieutenant Harm And Her Howlin' Harmettes!, Tara's Choice, And, Willow-Dad)

When Willow had asked Tara very quietly, how her witch could stand to be with the vampire now that she knew of her sobering past, Tara only had a simple answer.

"I know you as you are now," she had said, her voice rough and tired from tears. "I see you as more."

She had seen that promise in her vampire's aura. Even when Willow had been that beautiful, frightening creature standing on the Bronze catwalk, Tara had Seen her. Willow was special – truly, deeply, something special. Every small thing the young witch had managed so far with her vampire – the promise of friendship, the reconnection to the Life threads of their world – these simple things Tara asked for or did because Willow had such potential in her to Become more.

And yet, even faith in that knowledge could not remove the natural process for a sensitive, caring, young woman to mourn the truly awful deeds her vampire had done.

Willow, the night of the woods, merely held Tara in her bed when they came home. The young woman was grateful that the vampire hadn't tried seduction to somehow soothe or distract her witch's sad heart. Willow did try, at least, to maybe clarify what she had done, although with no attempt to excuse her actions. Or even profess to repent. It was honest, and Tara was bittersweetly grateful for that too.

"Did you," Willow had whispered hesitantly. "See that...two of the three worlds I destroyed were hell on earth realities?"

One reality much like theirs, wiped out by the vampire's gleeful caprice. Another ruled by demons, destroyed in a fit of vengeance. One already ruined by humanity, annihilated out of a twisted sense of self defense. And when Willow had thought Dru was dust and gone forever, she tried for the death of a fourth world, until a coven of good witches stopped her.

"I'm sorry it's made you sad," Willow then said, and Tara had raised a hand to her vampire's cheek, comforting her – which they had both found ironic. By morning, Tara had still not shaken off the weight of what she knew.

"Horsie ranch today, Kitten?" Willow had murmured from the blankets when Tara rose early with the sun. It was Saturday.

Willow had then looked at her. Looked at her – everything of her face, her eyes. The look was so desperate, Tara wanted to ask what was the matter. Instead, her vampire pulled her in close and kissed her.

"I'll be here," Willow had whispered, eyes wide upon her. Tara left her vampire's bedroom.

When Tara boarded her hummer, her distracted mind finally allowed her to realize what she hadn't want to realize, when in the bedroom. Willow fully expected her to run this time.

She would've gone back inside the mansion to assure her vampire that wasn't the case, but her body had her drive away instead.

And after a certain amount of time spent unproductively staring at nothing, with a cooling mocha before her from the Espresso Pump, Tara realized she needed to talk to someone instead.

Anya looked up from her flurry of dusting activity when the Magic Box's entrance bell jangled merrily.

"Hello! You're dressed strangely today. Are you preparing for manual labor?" Anya asked cheerfully, noting her friend's jeans and boots. Such plain dressing was not the norm for Tara's usually garish taste in clothing.

"Hi Anya," Tara greeted. She gave her friend a shy smile. "No, I'm dressed more for horse riding."

"That's right!" Anya recalled, as she resumed her enthusiastic dusting. "You were planning on doing that every Saturday morning. Or at least hoping to. But you're here instead. Something has happened," Anya suddenly concluded, and stopped her dusting. "Something bad. Or else why would you be here with me instead of with the horses?"

"I-I, um, I need a friend to talk to," Tara said hesitantly, even as she stepped down into the shop.

"Michael's not coming in to watch the shop until noon," Anya stated, speaking of the young man she had recently hired to help with the shifts in the Magic Box. Michael was a Sunnydale High student who also dabbled in magic. He was a friend of Amy's, and though Anya hadn't much trust of Amy, the ex-demon decided not to hold that against Michael and gave him the sales position Tara had held previously.

"I'll call him, and get him to come in early," Anya declared. She walked purposefully for the sales counter, dropped her feather duster behind it, then pulled out the phone. "In the meantime, I can put up an 'out for break' sign. Have you been to the new Mexican cafe yet? They make really great huevos rancheros!"

Anya thoughtfully put another mouthful of delicious mexican sunny side ups in her mouth. It was a very pretty day and she was glad she decided to have the 'friend talk' with Tara outside of the store. Anya was mentally patting herself on the back for choosing the option of going out, even though it meant losing lucrative sales. Everything Tara had just told her of her week – of her time with Willow and of what she had learned last night about the vampire – well, it was alot of stuff. Anya was certain she would not have been able to work and listen and then impart her wisdom like a good friend. She could however, eat and listen, and then impart wisdom.

"Okay," Anya finally said, after she had swallowed some egg yolk, salsa, and pinto beans. "It's obvious you want to marry her. I mean, who wouldn't, Willow knows how to keep herself in money and she's becoming a very respectable demon, very fast, for a vampire. Vampires can be so unpredictable until they mature a bit. But Willow! I saw it right away, she's got stability. I wouldn't mind being a second wife to her, after you of course. Besides being perfect mate material, she is rather cute. I may not be very gay, but I believe I can perform to satisfaction for the position," Anya remarked positively.

Tara only stared at her friend in utter amazement. Anya took that opportunity to liberate Tara's plate of some mexican omelet. They did eggs so well at this cafe.

"I don't see why you feel bad about her past. What's done is done, and even though you are a very good person, Tara, I know you are not as judgmental as certain 'good' people are. I never did think you were qualified to be a White Hat," Anya smiled. "I mean hey, their kind used to torch your kind, once upon a time.

"I'm going to assume," Anya continued, as she ate the portion of Tara's omelet she had taken. Her eyes rolled a moment, obviously enjoying the taste. "Mmmfh," she moaned in appreciation.

"Ass-ss-s – What?" Tara got out, not bothering to make a complete sentence in her pressing curiosity.

"Well, that you still want her, 'destroyer of other worlds' qualification included. But you're also confused as to why you don't feel as guilty about her crimes as you think you should be." Now Tara was completely floored, and her face reflected it. "Everyone wants an alpha for a mate," Anya explained, like it was the most obvious and basic thing in the world. "And what could outweigh silly moral condemnation more than the securement of an alpha like Willow? I mean, you did talk progeny with her, Tara. A vampire of that kind of power can protect your future – your children. Just not everybody else and their children. Which is why I'm finding the position of second wife to Willow very appealing."

Tara covered her face with her hands in utter self horror. Anya was right! Tara grieved for the worlds her vampire had destroyed, but paradoxically she still wanted Willow – wanted Willow because she was that capable. And not only that – well, Willow was even more than that. Dear Goddess, could her sense of ethics and-and compassion be that much overruled by the natural breeding instinct? She should be fleeing franticly for her life in the other direction, but instead had found the strongest out of the pack and wanted to make babies with it. Add such inescapable gender instincts to the love she was already feeling for a very unique vampire and obviously the blonde witch was a goner. Tara remembered how she ravished Willow in the Hummer when the vampire had talked of babies and groaned.

Anya took that opportunity to grab one of the witch's fresh melon slices. At this rate, she might get to eat all of Tara's brunch.

"You're right," Tara finally admitted, when she lowered her hands. Anya beamed from where she sat. It wasn't often that she got to hear that, even though she was often deserving of that particular praise, the ex-demon thought to herself.

"B-but you said 'wife'," Tara pressed. "How can you just say that? I thought – "

"I'm her Pet," Tara emphasized. "I'm n-n-not her, h-her – " Tara didn't know what word she was looking for.

"Her mate," Anya knowingly supplied. "Vampires never take humans as mates – there's the whole your dying factor, and also that you're lower on the food chain. So they call humans Concubines, Companions, Favorites, and such. I told you what it was like for Pets owned by vampires, but I didn't tell you about how it was before."

"When you told me the story about the vampire who kept the female lineage of a Favorite for himself? Willow must've met him on one of her dimensional hops. It doesn't happen anymore here, unless very secretly, I would think. The last time I had seen vampires living so closely – and openly – with their chosen humans and their progeny was in the 1300's. With witches," Anya said pointedly, and even demonstrated her point by pointing with her fork. "Do you want the rest of your melon?" She then asked.

"Why did – " Tara queried. And then realization dawned on her. "The Burnings," she whispered.

"Yes," Anya nodded, helping herself to Tara's plate. Over two hundred years of inquisitions and witch persecutions. That had been a very active time for the ex-vengeance demon, who had been frequently called upon by the women tortured, hung, and burned.

"After that, vampires closed ranks. Why? I'm not sure, except that I know that the vampire society that developed since then has been pretty anti-human. Add to that the vampire hunting that flourished and all those fictional novels supposedly exposing their society, I would guess that very few of them would remember that certain humans used to be an acceptable and beneficial part of their Families. And a very loyal part, I might add." Anya sighed. Ah, the pagan era. Those were the days.

Anya ate the rest of Tara's melon and briefly ruminated. It used to be vampires, like other demons, knew how to pick very strong humans and enslave them. It made their Families that much more powerful. Today's vampire just took anything for a Pet and pranced around like a sex toy on a leash actually enhanced their reputation. Anya mentally scoffed at today's demon youth who could barely boast being over four hundred years old. Their behavior certainly reflected it.

"The Watchers' Journals say nothing about this, and they go back before the – "

"They are the reason why vampires are where they are, and you and I are where we are," Anya interrupted. "As a witch, you have naturally bridged the gap – a very dangerous gap, which I certainly wouldn't have cared to try myself, but it had been bridged before. And Willow, being that she is a witch as well, has been very willing to meet you there.

"It will work," Anya continued, smiling. She was just stating what she had already seen in the two well matched mates – because that was what Willow and Tara were, despite Tara being human; to Anya they were already mates. However, at some point, someone will have to tell Willow that. "For the purpose of today's vampire society, you are a Pet, but between you and Willow?" Anya nodded sagely. "You can go back to the Old way, and it will work."

Anya then looked at her watch. "Time to go back to the shop!" she announced brightly. Now that she had eaten and given her friend adequate 'friend time', she could return to making money. Tara merely nodded, and picked up the bill. She was just about to confess to the ex-demon that she loved Willow. What with the talk of her having supposedly acquired the perfectly qualified – in terms of power, the witch hastily corrected to herself, rather than destruction – 'mate', where would love fit in?

As Anya rose to go use the restroom, Tara patiently set her concerns about love aside. She would have to seek advice about that, at another time.

Tara made her grateful goodbyes with her friend, and left for the mansion. When she entered the kitchen, she was very happy to realize that she was returning in far more settled spirits than she had left.

"You didn't go ridin'," she heard said quietly from the kitchen's opposing doorway. Willow stood leaning against the frame. The pose was casual, yet unnaturally still. The vampire wasn't close enough to scent – or not scent – the fact that Tara had not gone to the horse ranch. Then Tara remembered: the phantom Sunnydale map. The mystical tracking device that had a drop of her blood added to the collection of vials in Willow's desk. God, her vampire was so resourceful.

Tara walked forward, bridging the gap between them. Willow, despite her customary paleness, actually looked wane; lost. And just a little – perhaps just a little defensive.

"Don't be angry," the blonde witch whispered as she gently took Willow into her arms. The vampire, thankfully, did not resist. "I'm okay now."

"Okay?" Willow breathed, her face slightly lined with a frown of confusion. "How?"

"Anya," Tara merely said, smiling. Willow began to relax. Her witch really was okay. For the first time since waking up this morning, Willow smiled too.

"What did she say?" the vampire asked curiously. She decided that a gift or a favor for Anya would be very appropriate if the ex-demon had fixed what Willow could not.

"Well she just, um." Tara self consciously pushed some hair behind an ear. "It was more about me...than you. It was just...Your having done, what you did? D-didn't bother me, as much as it should have. A-and, um, that bothered me."

Willow didn't understand. Her witch had grieved very openly over what the vampire had done. Alot. Obviously there was an angle to this that she wasn't seeing.

"Um." And now her witch was blushing. "What you did, makes me very sad. And what you can do, is frightening. B-but at the same time..." Kitten's blue eyes blinked and seemed to stray to every point capable of being seen except directly at her vampire.

"It's a turn on?" Willow suddenly grinned, realization making her grin grow to almost wicked proportions.

"No!! No, oh god." And Tara nearly broke their embrace, but Willow held her fast.

"I think I understand Kitten, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made a funny," Willow quickly apologized, realizing that whatever Anya had fixed, the vampire had nearly busted to pieces with her joke. "I mean, okay, maybe it's like this? Maybe," Willow continued, her voice falling to the soft pitch of the girlish tones she liked to speak when she was with Kitten. "It's like, how I know you killed the Master? But, you never want to do that again, because it makes you sad. Me, though, I, I very much like knowing that you had done it.

"And," Willow whispered. "It's not really about what you did. I just like knowing that you can, Kitten."

"No, no baby," Willow soothed. "Being attracted to power? Even power that can kill you?" Willow wondered if Kitten knew that besides the Slayer, the blonde witch was very capable of dusting Willow if she tried. She doubted, though, that such a fact had yet occurred to her gentle Kitten. "It's just...natural."

Talk of mates with Anya, then trying to make up with Willow...and then everything that had happened yesterday. It was all emotionally draining – draining especially because the idea of being Willow's beyond just being a Pet was pure fanciful thinking. Tara wondered how an imaginary future with 'progeny' and female lines destined to be concubines of vampires had suddenly burdened her own existence. It had all started with that darn Hummer, she mentally accused. It was no wonder then, that Tara decided to ignore her papers and books, indulge in a little baking, and take a well deserved nap. When she awoke, she saw her white silk robe laid on the bed beside her.

See, Tara? Her practical mind admonished. Reality is, you are still a Pet, and you have a role to fulfill. So get it together and go play with Willow!

She hurried to her bath. While in the tub, she meditated a while to help banish unhelpful fantasies of wifedom and babies. When she returned to her bedroom, she was calm and falling easily into her role. She noticed the small jewelry box that lay upon the bosom of the white robe.

When she carefully snapped the tiny gift box open, it revealed a set of simple, yet very beautiful gold rings. Struck by their beauty, Tara gently pried one from its holding. She studied it curiously. It wasn't a ring, exactly, for one's finger.

If anything could reinforce to Tara the current nature of her relationship with her vampire, this was it. The blonde witch crossed her arms over her breasts and did the only thing she could do about her forthcoming plight.

"The Three 3's are." Harm ticked them off her fingers. "Killing. Feeding. Getting Happys. I make sure my boys get all three, it's the perfect vampire life."

Harm ground her new Doc Marten boot into the lower fledge's throat. Okay, he was kinda the boss of the nest she and her kids were massacring, so he got the benefit of receiving 'Harm talk'. But as compared to Harmony, he was still as low as one could go on the vampire power scale, so talking to him was, the blonde vampire realized, really a waste of time. Especially when he had nothing snappy to contribute to the conversation anyway.

"Get it?" she said, turning to look at the other lower fledge Shawn was holding fast. Geez, he picked another chick vampire to be the witness to this night of mayhem. By the time Harm and her boys got through cleaning this town, the only survivors will be female minions.

"So then you'll understand why dumb fuck here, is dust," Harm ground her boot one last time, to the pleasing crunch of neck bones, and reached down to grab soon to be dusted's scraggly brown locks. She ripped his head off. There was the familiar rush sound of 'poof!', the fall of ash, and Harm was dusting her hands with satisfaction.

"And why you," she continued, pointing at miss Brunette. "Are going to entertain my boys. Got it?"

Miss Brunette got it all right. She was practically ready to show her talents right there and then when Harm stopped her for a second.

"Wait a minute. Who's Master of this town?" Harm asked, grabbing the brunette's chin.

"Good girl," Harm praised, then gave the brunette a smack with her palm on the girl's cheek. Job done, the blonde vampire strolled away, already dismissing the sounds of her boys whooping and arguing about who'll get to be first with the female fledge. Harm stepped out of the abandoned church basement and into the cool night air. She pulled out the paper Willow had given her, which listed her hit jobs for the night. She crossed the last name off with satisfaction. This was the third night she had been clearing lairs and nests for Willow. So far so good. She felt the presence of her boy Shawn in the dark.

Shawn only nodded. She could always depend on her little warrior to dust any loose ends. "I was," he then began. "Want to..."

"Yeah. Go. Be back in Master's cellar before dawn," Harm just said. Shawn jogged off into the night.

Harm stood silent and still on the weedy church lawn. Sometimes, when she caught herself doing that, she took a moment to be amazed, because being preternaturally still like that? Totally weird. So was not breathing. But that's how vampires were, and she was trying to give her boys the complete vampire life. So as she listened to her boys make with the Happy in the church basement, Harm mentally checked off number three on the 'Three 3's' list. For tonight, all was good.

"These, uh, pink dots, here?" She pointed. Whoops, her finger went right through the ghost map. Fucking weird.

Her boss only nodded, a very graceful, magnanimous nod. A, 'yeah Harm, I know I'm fucking with you', elegant type nod. Willow was seated at her icy glass desk with her Pet on her lap. She was fondling Tara's bare assed tits.

"No problem," Harm declared. Willow's mouth was turned up in that usual smirk of hers. Harm felt a tingle in the air, and magic sent a paper on Wills' desk flying to the blonde vampire's hands.

"Move it move it!" she snapped out, as she watched her boys jump to their feet. "We gotta hit three places tonight and they're on opposite sides of the town! Which one of you knows how to hotwire a car?"

Her boys, in the middle of grabbing their chosen weapons, stared at her blankly. Shit, that's what she gets for Turning good suburban kids into her minions.

"Bar'," she called out. She pulled Wills' paper out and pointed with a finger. "This address? Meet the rest of us there in half an hour, and Bring. Wheels. Something big enough for all of us. Got it? So go, go go go!!"

As Barry's broad back disappeared through the access to the sewers, Harm grabbed her long handled ax. "All right, move out!"

The first name on her list turned out to be a vampire sex pit in a really nice 'new homes' community.

"What the fuck?" Harm said, when Troy came back from his recon of the luxury style home, the house lights all bright like there was a party inside. A Hugh Hefner type vampire swing party – with humans?

"I smelled them – yeah, they're having a huge orgy in there," Troy shared, excited.

"Humans mean cash and credit cards. Shawn, make sure all exits are locked up, don't want anyone escaping. No Body," Harm looked at each of her boys. "Eats. Any Body, until we put down all vamps. Got it?"

They did the home invasion thing, to the screams of naked, horny humans and vamps alike, and an hour later, Swinger vamp master number one was dusted, Ken was boffing the female vamp they were going to leave as a witness, and Harm was in one of the bedrooms, filling a bag with cash, wallets, and jewelry. She pulled the gold pinky ring off the naked, dead forty year old with the new pec job. Geez, these bleeder whore types – came in all kinds. Barry poked his sandy blonde head in the room.

"SHAWN," Harm bellowed, already moving for the house exit. "What's the sitch?" She stood a moment, and gave a listen. Not one heartbeat existed in the house. Got her boys well fed tonight, that's for sure.

Outside, on the home's perfectly mowed lawn, Harm could only stare, dumbfounded.

"Ice cream man was still in it," Barry said. He jangled keys. "Got the keys and everything. I swear, it's cool, boss! No one'll know it's us coming!"

Harm rolled her eyes. "Get in!" she barked. "Time's wasting, we gotta get to the other side of town!"

"Excuse me," she heard behind her. The female vamp witness was hurrying out of the house, hastily buttoning on a blouse. "Do you think you can give me a ride back into town?"

As Harm sat on one of the storage freezers, Barry in the drivers seat with Ken beside him with the map, she took that moment to look at the situation. It was obviously a test, Wills giving her such distant spots to cover in just one night. Well, okay, ice cream truck? Not the brightest move, but she and her boys had risen to the occasion and were getting the jobs done. But first – as the truck trundled and swayed and sent a box of red vines hitting her head. They got to get to the two last jobs. Then she can consider them done.

"Could you guys, like, drop me off downtown?" the female vamp asked hopefully. Troy was groping her ass.

"Harm," Wills said pleasantly. They were in the kitchen. Wills was packing a red messenger bag with food stuff – which Harm thought was a weird thing to do, since Wills didn't eat, unless with Tara. Okay, never mind, she got it. Anyway, Wills was packing the red back pack – was, anyway, until she turned to Harm and stared at her all glittery like when she was being full on Master Wills.

"Harm," Master Wills said again. Great, what did she do? She should've waited before sneaking into the kitchen to see if Tara baked anything new. "Why is there an ice cream truck parked in my driveway?"

"Ice cream truck," Harmony tried again. "Totally inconspicuous. Wouldn't see us coming. And it fits all of us. And." Beat. "It's got ice cream."

"And candy," Wills added in that sweet, little girl voice of hers. Her large eyes still stared at Harm, still glittering. "Is there anything chocolate? Mum likes chocolate."

"Soon as it's dusk, we'll grab everything chocolate for you, Wills," Harm assured with gung ho attitude.

"Make sure you change the license plates, Harm," Willow then said softly. "And the registration on the dash. Don't want the police snooping."

And her boss finally turned away, resuming her packing. Harm made her escape for the cellar, hoping to catch some shut eye and to make sure she was up before dusk. She wouldn't know of course, that when her boss finally returned with her Pet from UC Sunnydale that afternoon, she would turn to Tara and say, "Kitten, have you ever seen the inside of an ice cream truck?"

Which is why, when dusk arrived, and Harm was exiting the mansion's kitchen, she saw her four boys with their weapons, huddled like peeping toms in the bushes.

"Uh," Barry just whispered, and pointed. The white ice cream truck was doing the creaking dance of boffing.

"Master...and Mistress," Ken whispered, almost reverently. His blue eyes were as big as saucers. "For. For the last forty five minutes."

Harmony finally heard the truck cease its luv rock motion. Two somebodys stepped down from its back, and headed for the kitchen door. Wills had her arm around Tara, who was discreetly straightening out her top. They disappeared inside.

Harm never saw her boys move so fast in her short unlife, as they ran scrambling for the truck, shoving each other as they went.

She didn't quite make it to the sidewalk. She collapsed to her knees and threw up her stomach's bloody contents on the patchy lawn.

"Shit," she finally said weakly, getting up. She didn't know that as a vampire, she still had stomach juices. Now her fucking nose burned.

"Mom?" he asked softly. Barry knew better than to call her that when they were on the job.

"Get Shawn to – do the ones in the cribs! Every single, fucking one gets dusted in there!" She could hear the high pitched screams of small children within the Victorian. "NO. Witnesses. Dust the bitch, don't even suck her down."

Barry nodded, his face stony. He ran back into the old house. Harm just stood, still and silent, on the lawn, until she could hear nothing – not even a rustle, from the old house. She felt Shawn approach her from behind, then all her boys.

"Good," Harm acknowledged. Willow had thought that this was going to be a big job for Harm. To Wills' magic, the address had revealed a hell of alot of 'pires inside. The redhead had even provided the blonde vampire with nifty satellite photo close ups, so she could best scope the house out and plan her attack. Who would've guessed they would finish so early tonight? The easiest job they ever dusted, yet one Harm wished she never, ever had to do.

"Boys," Harm finally announced. "Rest of the night is ours. What do you want to do?"

Four young men grunted on the courtyard. While her boys played two on two b-ball, Keds and Adidas skidding on the court, Harm prowled within the asphalt's chain fenced perimeter. The Three 3's. Kill. Feed. Get Happys. Sometimes giving the boys their Happy didn't necessarily mean sex. Sometimes it was as simple as that promised Playstation 2 she was going to get them, or pizza night out, or like right now, basketball. Harm liked to think of herself as a good mom. Especially tonight. Harm needed – really needed, to be a good mom tonight.

So she prowled the fenced perimeter, her enhanced senses as a fledging Childe reaching out into the darkness. It would be only a matter of time; the court was fully lit, and she herself, her own vamp power signature, was right here.

Harm didn't sense her – the Slayer kept out of range – but she heard the cross bow click. She leapt right into the flying bolt, taking it in the shoulder – didn't want it whizzing past her and hitting any of her boys. Fuck, the new Slayer knew how to shoot through a chain link fence!

"MOM!" she heard shouted behind her. She saw the K-Slayer running for the court, crossbow in hand.

"GO GO GO!!" Harm shouted, waving behind her. "I'll take care of it!" She was glad her boys were following her order on this one. She could hear them scramble up the chain linked fence behind her just as the K-Slayer slammed the fence door shut, locking Harm in the b-court. K-Slayer, all business, raised her crossbow and took aim.

"Isn't this like shooting fish in a barrel? I thought you Slayer types liked a challenge," Harm sharply complained to the stoic girl. She reached quickly into her black jeans' pocket. Thankfully, she had enough preternatural accuracy to toss the object through the chain linked fence and at the Slayer's feet.

"By the way," Harm added, as the tiny object flashed, blinding the Slayer. "A little gift from Willow."

Harm turned to make her graceful exit. Her left arm was useless with the crossbow bolt still in her. Shawn was at the foot of the fence, on her side.

"Fuck! I told you idiots to run!" Harm bit out. Shawn gave her a boost up to where her other three boys were still straddling the fence. Troy dropped down to receive her on the other side.

"Yeah, we did," Barry grinned at her as he helped her over. "But not without you, Mom."

"Harm," Wills acknowledged, as she looked up from the huge, mahogany desk she sat behind. It was just before noon, and Harmony knew she would catch the boss in her study before she went out and met Tara for coffee. When Wills was in her Sanctum, she conducted Master of Sunnydale business, but out here, in the study adjoining her library, she was Wills, head of House. Willster laid aside the papers she was looking at.

"You've been hurt," the redhead said matter of factly. The bolt job hadn't healed up entirely yet, so Harm was forced to wear a temporary sling. "Was last night's lair a difficult hit?"

"Naw," Harm dismissed. "K-Slayer did this. I gave her that prezzie you wanted me to use whenever I ran into her. Me and the boys got out of the sitch fine."

"Good," Willow said softly, and returned her attention to her carefully laid out papers. From where Harm stood, the papers looked kind of like letters of recommendation, or...resumes. Weird.

"Are we going to take on the Slayer, any time later?" Harm asked curiously. She was wondering, seriously, if she and her boys were up to that. If Willow ordered the hit, she'll have to do it, and of course, her boys, being the dumb minions they were, would think that would be so cool. They were too young to have seen yet how a Slayer fought. Harm had seen Buffy do her thing. Slayers were not to be fucked with lightly.

Willow raised her green eyes again. "That is a situation you should clarify to your boys," the redhead said thoughtfully. "I don't want the Slayers, either of them, confronted. See them coming, run the other way. The idea is not to look like cowards," Wills then said with a slight smirk. "But to be prey so irritatingly out of reach, you'll always be frustrating them. Get me?"

Harm thought a moment. "Cooool," she exhaled. "Like taunting. I get you, Wills."

"My boys might get hot headed," Harm admitted. "See Slayer, wanna rip. They're going to want to know why the hands off. Not that you have to tell me, boss," Harm added hastily.

"It's a legitimate question," Willow allowed, eyes actually sparkling. Thankfully, Willster was in a good mood this morning. "For every generation, there is a Slayer. When one falls, another takes her place. I think the current Slayer is," Willow made a little gesture with a hand. "Manageable. So we are going to keep her alive, and not allow anyone new be Called."

Willow gave her a last smile then returned to perusing the stuff on her desk. Harm stayed where she was. It was now or never, Harmster, she thought to herself. You want this, so go for it.

"Wills," she said hesitantly. She waited until Willow glanced up again. "I gotta...I have to talk to you about that job last night."

Harm was feeling a little awful. Thinking about last night's job made her feel like that. She really needed Wills' advice, and maybe that need had shown up on her face, because the redhead stood up from her leather chair behind the desk. Willow then moved around the desk for the leather guest chair facing it.

"Harm, here," Willow ordered, and gave a small pat to her thigh. Harm knew what that meant. As Willow sat down in the guest chair, the blonde vampire took a quick seat at her feet. Kind of awkward with the one arm, but she got there. Willow then leaned forward, slim arms resting on her knees, and clasped her hands together.

Harm took an unneeded breath. "It was like you said," she began. "Lots of vamp presence in the house. With real weak signatures, but they were all there, and that was because," and Harm felt like spitting. "The bitch of the house Turned children," she stated sharply.

"Really little children, Wills," Harm clarified. She remembered tripping over toys, kicking at the tiny toddler freaks that tried to bite her. "And okay, that was majorly freaky, and I could almost see them as insane little vampire midgets, but then, then there was the room with the – " Baby room. Fucking big baby room. With mobiles, and blankies, and pastel murals on the walls, of castles and fluffy sheep and clouds. "With the...I had Shawn take care of it. I know he would of done them all. I think I counted six cribs." But you don't know how many vampire babies were in each crib, Harm, she thought to herself. She never bothered to ask Shawn.

"Is there something wrong with me?" Harm then asked shakily. She couldn't look at Wills anymore. "I mean, demon here, yeah? So how come I can't deal with, with some psycho vamp bitch who goes and Turns babies?"

Harm closed her eyes for a moment, the gratitude she felt for her Master's words washing over her. If Willow could understand this, then it was okay. Her reaction to the freaky vamp babies was okay.

"We are cruel things," Willow continued, and when Harm looked up, her Master's green eyes held that familiar cold glitter. "And some of us are content with a certain level of cruelty. But even we can have among us, some remarkable sickos – vampires who have carried over the twisted qualities of their human selves. Turning babies and toddlers means trapping the demon within a defenseless, helpless vessel. It is a cruelty to our own Brethren of the highest kind. It is misuse of our Gift. You did the demon world a service," Willow then added quietly. "You did very well last night, Harm."

And Harmony, if she could, just wanted to say 'Fuck me', because her Master's words actually closed her own throat up.

After the vamp baby talk, Wills gave Harm a cell phone. Then, later that evening, she got summoned into the Sanctum to talk about Felix. Felix, yuck. Harm always wanted to make an ewwy face when even thinking of the guy. Either that or put a boot in his sucky puss. He kissed ass like no other. Yeah, even better than Harmony Kendall, one time number one sheep of Cordelia Chase. But Harm knew that the Felix situation Wills had dropped into her lap was yet another test. Another of those, 'Fuck up, or no?' tests. So what to do? Harm gave it a run with her brain cells.

"Okay," Harm said to herself, as she and the boys waited in the ice cream truck, a few blocks from Felix's lair. "On the one hand, Willow doesn't give sanctuary, so she gives that power to me, because maybe Felix is worth his sorry ass." Harm took a bite out of the red vine in the one hand. "But then on the other hand, I hate his ass, so now I've got the perfect opportunity to grind it into dust and laugh." She took a thoughtful bite from the red vine in her other hand.

"Okay, this is not working," she declared, looking at the still perfectly equal length red vines in her hands. "Obviously this is like, all about Harm being wise, versus Harm being a demon. Now, Wills is wise, so, she'll want Harm to be wise. So." she folded her arms. "Harm," she told herself firmly. "Don't be a demon."

Shit. Which still didn't prevent her from kicking the shit out of Felix, half an hour later after Wills' phone call, but thankfully, she managed to remind herself in time that she had decided already to spare that shit's sorry ass.

"This is frustrating," Harm admitted to herself as Barry pointed the ice cream truck home to the mansion. And Harm knew exactly why she was frustrated. She didn't get to fulfill one of her own personal Three 3's. Kill something. Especially something with Felix's dumb ass face. So she decided to overcompensate with point Three: getting her Happy.

And with Shawn always wanting to run off every chance he could get to see his secret pussy – who Harm easily suspected, was little Miss Waify with the Big Eyes like Willow's – that left Harm with Barry, Ken, and Troy to fuck senseless.

"So...when are you getting us that Playstation?" Barry asked finally, from where he lay on one of her boobs. Harm just smacked him on the head. Troy slipped off her other boob, already dead asleep.

"Master's cellar's not exactly equipped for stuff like that," Harm replied. "As soon as we finish cleaning up the town, I'll find us a place." Actually, she was hoping Willow would help find that place. Getting access to utilities would require an identity – she kinda doubted her own boys knew how to steal things like gas and electricity. Harmony was also aware that she was officially dead – she did claw her way out of her own grave, for christ sakes. The thing was, she wasn't sure how to get her identity back in order to do stuff like get a house running. And bank accounts. She'd really like to have a bank account again.

Harm turned her head to where the stacks of cash and loot lay, neatly laid out on the table usually meant for Wills' torture instruments. Willow had said that anything she turned over from the jobs was all hers, which was pretty damn magnanimous. Especially when Troy thoughtfully pointed out that maybe that also included the lairs they'd hit too. Like the sex pit house. Or the cars that belonged to those swinging humans, as Ken belatedly pointed out. Duh, idiot. Too bad he didn't suggest that when they drove off in the ice cream truck.

But the sex pit house was out of the question, too high profile. And the Victorian? Harm would rather be dusted first than set foot in that psycho place again.

The money, Harm mused, as Barry snored into her chest, was another Willster test. First, she had to show she could deal with a difficult situation. Then, she gets handed a minion's fate, so she had to show that she could, uhhh, think. Yeah, think about the situation, and not just kill. And now? Money.

Because money, and all the above? That's what Masters think about. That's what they took care of, losing sleep while their minions did the Three 3's and slept happily drooling on a Sire's boobs. And why the fuck was Barry snoring anyway? It's not like the dummy needed to breathe.

Harm had wanted to start her own little House when she had fled to the sewers, just those few weeks ago, but Wills was showing her what it really was like to take care of a Family. Wills wasn't even Sire, but she was giving Harm the lessons, in her own really subtle way. Harm could worry about that. Harm could maybe bitch. But in the end, she was kinda grateful. Wills was a good Master. Harm could only try to be a good Hand.

Her boy Shawn, with his dark brown eyes and even darker hair, was kneeling before her in the cellar. His girlie, little miss Waify, was beside him. Totally a stick of a chick, miss Waify. Big blue eyes and dark, almost black hair. Long graceful arms and legs like a ballerina. She did look like Wills in body, especially with those big eyes, but this girl's face was more like, uh, Holly Golightly. Yeah. Breakfast at Tiffany's. But that's if Holly had looked fourteen and orphaned.

"But Master said," Shawn was saying slowly. He was giving Harm his version of Puppy eyes – which from Shawn, was hardly Puppy eyes. Make them honest type, no nonsense, I'm being sincere and totally trusting here, eyes. "You have the power of Sanctuary."

"Yeah, I do," Harm said. "In public. But Master still has final say on who's accepted into my Family because she's gotta take care of me and mine. And Waify here, I need a really good reason to bring her in beside her being your boff buddy."

Shawn was a boy of few words. Really few. So all he could do was sit and look a little needy. And confused. Little Miss Waify's big eyes drifted to the concrete floor. She obviously didn't know what to say for herself.

"Still not a good reason, Bar'," Harm called out, but she sensed all her boys' sexual excitement at the suggestion. Well, if Waify could handle Shawn, her little Mister Atlas, then she could probably handle the rest of them.

"Okay, I've thought of something," Harm declared, more to herself than to the rest of the cellar. "C'mere." She gestured to the slim thing. "We're gonna talk." They went to sit on the cellar steps. Harm did, anyway. She had Waif-girl sit at her feet.

"Go to sleep!" she barked at her curious boys. "It's day, and we got more shit to do tonight!"

"That barely makes you two weeks old. Steve was your Sire?" Nod. "He teach you to hunt?" Shy shake of the head.

"Gimme your wrist," Harm requested. She went to demon face, ran a fang along Elise's slim wrist. She licked her blood up for a taste. The blonde vampire analyzed it on her tongue awhile, still holding the girl's wrist.

"You were Made to be the weakest kind of minion. You've got the strengths of a vampire though. See? Already healing," Harm indicated, showing the girl her own wrist. She then dropped it, focusing on the girl. "And I bet you hold your own really well doing the wild rodeo with Shawn. But you were Turned to be that kind of fuck toy. Weak demon, so that you can still feel stuff and suffer when you get played with; vampire qualities so that you can heal up fast and get fucked with again."

"See? You're crying now, hon'. Strong demons don't do that. Just a little ghost of what you remember of being human has been left in you. I bet you've even walked out into the daylight a couple of times by accident, right?"

"And that's why your Sire didn't bother to teach you to hunt. You weren't meant to last. But you want to keep on unliving, don't you Elise? No more accidentally walking into the sun or letting Shawn do your kills for you?"

Harm could hear her boy stir at the other end of the cellar. Duh, like she couldn't guess.

"Yes, yes Harmony, I want to live," Elise said bravely, eyes wide. Those big blues were still wet but they had conviction now. Conviction was good.

"Then I endorse you, Elise," Harm said. "But if Master says you gotta go, you go. And Shawn can't see you anymore."

Emotion rare for a demon prevented Elise from saying anything, but she understood, and bravely nodded.

Master Wills was in the kitchen again, and she was making sandwiches. Prissy, tea time sandwiches, with the cut crusts and everything. Harm appreciated them aesthetically, but she wished she could still appreciate them taste wise, too. Since being undead, all she could eat of human type food was chocolate.

"Hey Wills," Harm greeted casually, as her boss carefully scored, then folded wax paper over a finished sandwich.

"I have a new minion below," Harm said slowly. "She's a really young thing, and she's seeking sanctuary with me and mine."

"Harm, hot water to warm up these two thermos bottles," Wills indicated with her butter knife. "I want blood in one, and the tea from this pot in the other."

Harm did as she was asked, as Wills made another sandwich. The redhead even used a ruler.

"I figured, her being newly Made only two weeks ago?" Harm continued. "Easier to mold, y'know? And she's teenish, and totally unthreatening looking. I've got big boys, and it would be nice to have a minion who can do the whole blend in the crowd thing...or even be bait," Harm then added. The thought of little Elise as a lure worked itself out in the blonde vampire's head. Yeah, that could work. She screwed the two thermos bottles shut, then set them beside her boss' picnic basket.

"But," Willow added pleasantly as she folded wax paper over another finished sandwich.

"Okay," Harm sighed. "But, she's one of those really weak minions. The ones meant to be toys."

Finally, Willow looked at her. Not expressionless, because Wills never closed her face off entirely when looking at people. It was more her 'Master's Gentle Poker Face', the one where she was probably thinking all sorts of scary things but decided she'll not frighten the person she was looking at with what she was thinking.

"Master on the deck!" she bellowed sharply into the cellar. When she hit the floor, Wills right behind her, the red haired vampire headed immediately for the chair – the Master's chair – set up on a platform at one end of the cellar. Wills threw her skinny self into it, a leather clad leg draped casually over an armrest, and folded her slender hands over her stomach. Her cold, green eyes looked at nothing in particular in the room.

"Elise," Harm called sharply, and gestured, as discretely as possible, to the foot of Wills' chair. She was risking it with the coaching, but she didn't want the little chick messing up. Elise was quick, and very, very quiet, Harm had to admire. The little minion was at Willow's feet almost immediately, kneeling, and kept her eyes demurely down.

Looking at the two of them, Master and minion, Harm wondered to herself why she even compared the two; Wills was all power, deadly and scary. Elise was all vulnerability, fragile and innocent looking. But then Harm remembered; Willow, when she was human? Elise was something like that.

Harm sort of held breath she didn't have, as she watched two pairs of big eyes stare into the other. Wills was not impressed, she could tell. But despite that, the Wicked continued to look into those big blue eyes.

"You are accepted," Willow announced abruptly. She uncoiled her slim body off the chair and made her quick way to the stairs. Elise just sat on the floor and stared in shock.

As Harm heard the cellar door shut, she marveled to herself: Wow, I just gained a girl kid.

The day Harm got a girl kid was also the night she inherited a building, thanks to her dusting some skank named Arnie. Whether she wanted the dive hole bar and its tenement building or not, she got the crappy place, because the ownership papers for it was actually in the safe in dusted Arnie's office.

Wills did specifically say on the phone, quote: 'Take everything'. She wouldn't have said that unless she really, really meant for Harm to have everything of the skank's.

"Shit!" Harm exclaimed, when Elise helpfully emptied the safe and laid the paperwork out for her on the desk. That and a couple of stacks of yummy grand in large bills. The dust formerly known as Arn had come rushing back to his bar with his goon, obviously aware his unlife days were numbered. Harm had debated whether to let him enter his building and believe he would be able to escape the Wicked – thereby catching him with his safe emptied and loot in hand, OR, whether it would be more fun to just nail the dumb fuck and torture him for his bank books and safe combo instead. All her boys voted for torturing.

So that night, after some bone breaking and flesh burning and some minor stomping of the safe combination out of Arnie, Harm sat in the skank's cheap leather chair and stared at the papers that meant she could own this bung hole excuse for a ratty, leaky building.

Willow, the next morning, wasn't very helpful, when Harm poked her wary self into the library. The boss was busy flipping through a book – something with a weirdo title like 'Transmorgofish' whatsis. When Wills finally acknowledged the blonde vampire's presence, all she said was a simple, smirky 'Congratulations'. Then she went back to reading. Harm got the hint. As the blonde vampire made her glum way back downstairs, she could not fathom for the unlife of her why Wills saddled her with a rundown building and bar on sleazy Third and Wilkins. Why?? Harm's head hurt.

"Maybe you should just sleep on it, Mom," Ken suggested. Yeah right, with Elise making little cute moaning sounds over there, being the smooshed Elise patty in a Bar' plus Shawn manwich? Harm had to admit, Elise sounded sweet when she was getting fucked, but now was not the time for Horny Harm. They so needed a house, and no, it was not going to be the skank dive bar or the psycho Victorian.

"Yeah, sleep," Troy also suggested, his mouth all kissable and his Dockers doing the Trojan pup tent.

After the sleep Ken and Troy had lewdly suggested, Harm got her orders from Wills for her last night of official town cleaning. For some reason, she hadn't felt one hundred percent up to it. Sorta like that infamous off day she had in cheerleading when she was tired and accidentally fucked up one of Cordy's routines. It should have been no surprise then, that the last job ended up a bitch. Her boys had been top minion all week, so they were overconfident. When they got to the last nest, the vamps were actually ready for Harm and Co. She should've anticipated that.

"Idiot!" Harm snapped, as she narrowly ducked a length of pipe from dumb vamp number one. She shoved the lower fledge's big head into the plaster wall, pulled it out, then axe chopped him behind the knees. Harm didn't have to say 'timber'.

"Why the fuck are you fighting?" she had to ask. This nest was crazed – the targeted vamps were fighting back like it was the Alamo. "If you wanted to survive, you could've gone to the Wicked and asked."

"Well I do, you dumb ass, cuz I'm THE Hand of the Wicked. But since you decided to ruin my night by not leaving town like smart idiots, you get shit from me. So long, fucker!"

By the time they loaded up into the ice cream truck and headed home, her little Family had some sorry wounds to share between them. Troy had the worst of it, having been knifed in the gut, so he was chugging down the emergency blood supply. Ken looked like he had some busted ribs, but he wasn't saying. Little Elise had a broken arm. Bar' and Shawn looked fucked over.

"You guys did good," Harm managed to say, with as much praise in her voice as she could muster.

"So...Playstation?" she heard Barry ask from the driver's seat. Harm couldn't really see him because her left eye had swollen shut. She laughed.

When they pulled up at the mansion's driveway, they had to back out again. Barry just said that their spot was taken and parked their truck down the street. Because it was nearing dawn, Harm hustled the kids into the kitchen quick. Then she looked at the shiny new vehicle sitting in the boss' driveway. She stared at it for a long while.

When dawn's light started to prickle her, Harm went to stand behind the safety of the kitchen door and peeked through the curtained window. Finally, a beam of light seared her hand. She gave up looking at the new car, and then felt the night's weariness hit her. She left the kitchen and made her slow way to the cellar. Tara was coming down the stairs.

"Oh, hey," the Pet said. She looked at Harm with some concern. "A-Are you all right?"

"Oh. Yeah, tough night," Harm excused. She actually managed a smile, although the left side of her face appeared to be busted. "Is the H2 yours?"

"N-No, actually, I have to go to the hospital. But I plan to, tomorrow. Cookies."

"That'll be cool." Harm yawned, and it hurt. She turned for the cellar door. "See ya."

When Harmony stepped quietly into the living area, it was Saturday night, and the first night where she didn't have to leave the mansion and go dust some unlivings. It felt good to stay in. Moms needed their night of rest too. Troy was healing nicely in the cellar, and the other kids had felt fine enough to go out hunting for fresh blood. They knew to avoid the Slayer, so Harmony decided not to worry.

The mood in the house felt easy and content; sated, which might be a mood due to the Pet Willow held in her arms as she and her human lounged on the couch by the blazing fire. Harm stood at a distance, not daring to intrude. She was pretending that she was heading for the kitchen, where she knew Tara had left out freshly baked cookies. Harm could always get them later for the kids. Right now, she was just going to pretend she was headed that way, when instead she was enjoying the lazy scent of sex and blood from Wills and her Pet. Willow craned her neck slightly in Harm's direction, honoring the blonde vampire with a glance.

Harmony moved across the living area and sank into the armchair opposite where Willow lay upon the couch. The redhead was reclined against throw pillows. Tara was draped over her, back to Willow's front, her head at her Master's chest. Willow was fully dressed, but Tara was in her deep blue robe. Harm could scent the sleepy woman's heady musk, and Harmony, since she wasn't feeling horny, could just enjoy how the sexy scent left her feeling contented instead. Willow smiled her secret little smile, and ran her fingers gently along the bare skin between the folds of Tara's robe.

"Thanks Wills," Harm said, referring to the invitation to sit. It was a very important invitation. It meant the blonde vampire was finally worthy of the honor of relaxing in the presence of her boss. Willow just continued to softly smile and caress Tara. Her hand strayed within the robe and Tara shrank away slightly, seemingly discomforted by the touch. Harm idly wondered why. Then Willow glanced up at Harm, mischievous. She carefully pulled Tara's robe back, exposing a soft breast. Gold glinted at the nipple.

"Wow," Harm exclaimed. "That's new." She cocked her head critically. The nipple and aureole was large and swollen from having been pierced, but with the gold ring through it, it definitely looked sexy.

"I just did it tonight," Willow said softly, smirking as her fingers traced around the sensitive, tender area. She parted the robe further to reveal the mate. Twin spots of gold glinted against pale, soft globes of flesh. Very nice.

"Can we get pierced too?" Harm asked. She was thinking of Troy in nipple rings. And Ken. And Bar'. Heck, all of them. Herself included.

"I mean," Harm tried to clarify. "I haven't tried it. And I know we just heal up when we get poked."

"Oh you can have them done. You just have to keep re-piercing whenever you remove the jewelry." Willow glanced up at Harm again, green eyes twinkling. "I wouldn't suggest wearing any dangling shiny bits while in a fight though. Can tear off something permanently, that way."

"But once you learn how, it's quite easy," Willow continued softly, running her fingers gently over her Pet. "A pair of nipple clamps, a nice, sharp, sterile needle...." One of Willow's fingers, with feathery grace, traced a gold ring, and Tara inhaled sharply through her nose.

"For humans, it takes a few weeks to heal," Wills smirked at Harm. "But I've put a healing spell on Kitten. In about two days she'll be ready to play." The redhead wrinkled her nose deviously at Harmony, and the blonde vampire found herself smiling.

"Oh shit, healing spell," Harm suddenly ejected, more to herself, as she clapped a hand to her forehead. Willow's face fell to seriousness and looked at her curiously.

"I just. I'm an idiot. I forgot that you do all sorts of magic, Wills," Harm explained. "The Order wasn't big with endorsing the mojo, so I'm kinda not used to thinking that way. Some of the kids got fucked up last night. Troy got knifed, Ken had busted ribs, and Elise broke an arm. I got them a huge amount of bagged from Willie's, so everyone's okay now except for Troy. He's still mending."

Harm hit her forehead again. "Duh! So that's what a witch feels like! I thought you put a major mojo signature on her or something!"

"You've got a lot to learn, Harm," Willow noted. "You are only a few months old. But you do know a lot about being a vampire, and that's good. How about other demons? Do you know who's who?"

Harm shook her head. "Not too good with that Wills. You know how retarded the Order was."

"On the Hellmouth, you need to know. I'm going to give you some demonology books to go over, and you teach them to your kids too. Vampires aren't everything, Harm, and you should learn who of the demons can be an asset, and who can be your enemy."

"Now," Willow then said, as she settled back upon her cushions. She didn't bother to cover her Pet up again, but wrapped her arms around Tara's shoulders. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Wow. Like what a great opening from Wills, Harmony thought. Okay, Harm, this is your chance, go go go for it!

"Well," the blonde vampire said slowly. "I want a new home for me and mine. Not that I appreciate your cellar, Wills, but the kids should have their own rooms. And a space to train in." Harm thought briefly of little Elise, who just had her first fight the other night. "And I really would like my own kitchen."

Harm wasn't sure, but she thought the dozing Pet, who had shut her sleepy eyes a while ago, actually quirked a fleeting smile.

"You didn't like any of the lairs you cleaned out?" Wills murmured curiously from where she lay.

"That skank bar and building on Third? El Yucko. The psycho Victorian can collapse into the Hellmouth for all I care. And the sex pit house in that new 'Happyville' community? I don't want home owner fees, Will. Can you see me maintaining a lawn to gestapo neighborhood standards?"

Willow fell silent, obviously thinking. Or maybe half sleeping, Harm couldn't tell. Finally her boss spoke.

"I'll find you a place, Harm. It will need to be big, because I want you to add to your Family. We'll talk about that later," And Harmony nodded her understanding. If Wills says she'll take care of it, then she will. Harm didn't have to worry anymore.

"Thanks Wills," Harm said gratefully. She took an unneeded breath. "Another thing...I've got a load of cash downstairs. I want to open bank accounts, and other legal stuff. But I'm going to need – "

"Yeah, a headstone in Sunnydale Restful says I'm dead. Do you think you can set me up?"

This time Willow raised an eyebrow. She was still in a good mood, Harm could tell, so she pushed onward.

"Property is property, Harm. It has value, even if you don't want to keep the bar running. A very profitable bar, if you bothered to look at Arnie's books, Harm."

"I was too busy counting the actual profits to look. It's a skank bleeder's bar, Wills. I don't want it."

Harm thought. Well, she tried to think. The problem was, she knew Willow gave her the bar as a test, but she still didn't know why – or what for. So she didn't know what to think about. And maybe her blondeness was finally getting to her, because all Harm could think was: how the heck was some skank property going to help her give her kids the Three 3's?

"Yeah Wills," Harm finally said. "I can't bother with it, even with trying to sell it and shit. It's not what's important. Please take it, Will."

Willow slowly smiled, and this time it wasn't just secret like, but entirely pleased. And Harm thought: Did I pass? Because, even though she hadn't a flying fuck of a clue as to what she'd passed, she guessed she did, and a sense of deep relief washed over her.

Willow's green eyes widened, and she laughed then. Not so much out loud, but her chest shook. Tara opened her blue eyes, and she was laughing silently too, giving Harmony a big, fond smile.

Shit yes, Willow was the dad of this vampire Family, Harm concluded to herself. Just as Harmony was the mom who took care of the kids, and Tara was the mom Willow happily fucked. This was how things were in Willow's House.

So Harmony, sitting cozy by the fire with her Master and her Pet, decided that tonight, unlife was very good indeed.

The satin sheet was tangled low across her witch's hips. It bared her soft body to the very dim light of the outside night, and to the appreciation of the vampire's nocturnal sight. Rings of gold glimmered against her witch's pale skin as she deeply slept. Willow smirked slightly, remembering how she had to soothe her Kitten's fears and sweetly cajole her into getting pierced, but the rings were worth it. They glinted so deliciously upon her Pet's skin. Normally Kitten liked to be well snuggled under the blankets, and Willow happily along with her, but the newly pierced nipples had proven too sensitive to the weight of bed covers. So Willow had raised the heat of Kitten's room to a toasty level, placed a chair near the bed to sit in, and avoided the temptation of crawling into the bed to sleep as well and accidentally cop a feel of her Kitten's luscious tits.

Sometimes one had to let a Pet run away in order to teach it a lesson, the vampire reluctantly mused. The lesson being, that no matter how hard it may try to flee, Willow would always find it. However, letting Kitten go this morning after her witch had learned of Willow's more infamous past had been a situation the vampire had barely been able to withstand. It had taken all her discipline to allow Kitten to leave the house and not chain her up then and there. More discipline to remain patiently in her Sanctum and glower as she watched Kitten's presence inch slowly about on her phantom Sunnydale map.

Lessons were good for pets; there was no real danger of Willow ever losing her Kitten, but she'd felt that if Kitten had run, somehow the vampire would actually lose her – lose 'them', lose Something, that was already happening between 'them'. Whatever that mysterious 'something' was, it was unlike anything Willow had experienced with a Pet before; it was a connection, it was an understanding, it was a trust, and, most significantly, it was rapport established long before Kitten gifted her with re-awareness of Life.

This mysterious rapport with her Kitten was something Willow had come to value and want to preserve, desperately. What else could so strongly motivate her to tolerate and actually enjoy doing 'human' things with her Kitten? What else could have her easily execute such innocuous, nancy boy pastimes as going on a picnic without a spot of recreational violence? However, to her indignation and worry, the indefinable 'something' between 'them' also had the power to easily make her fear, and practically undo her as a competent Master, as it almost did today.

Willow pushed such unproductive thoughts away. Kitten was here now, still her good Pet, and the crisis was past. The vampire exhaled pensively, to the side, so that smoke might not obscure her view of her sleeping witch. Willow's slender face softened once more as Kitten's steady heartbeat lulled her into the mood of contentment she had so enjoyed since giving her darling Pet her piercings this evening. Putting rings on her Kitten had banished her day's strange insecurities. A little assurance of her Masterdom had finally put Willow at ease. Her girl was so good to her; she was a delightful mix of challenge and submission. It seemed that Willow had finally, after so many broken pets, found one able to...dare she think it? 'Handle' her. And, most importantly, survive her.

No more need for old games, Willow thought to herself in soft surprise, as she watched Kitten lie, still and trusting, in deep slumber. No more need for terrorizing, for breaking; no more forcing. Not with Kitten, anyway. Why the demon in her agreed with this new found resolution, she did not know, except that it probably found the new, softer, more subtle games with Kitten far more stimulating, and just as equally satisfying. It certainly was more satisfying to coax and seduce her girl into getting pierced than just straddle her and make her submit. Although the ever present sadist in her responded to the familiar thrill of the latter circumstance, her more mature self could not help but be disgusted at the lack of sophistication and barbarism of her old ways. And of course she tried to ignore how the familiar, sadistic scenario made some small part of her wince – that little part of her which remembered that this was, after all, about Kitten.

All her time spent keeping pets had led her to this, Willow reflected as she finally snubbed out her dwindling cigarette. To find one strong enough, special enough, to make her happy, and placate the restless demon within. All it had taken was a memorable meeting with that elder vampire who had secured a favored concubine's female lineage to spark in Willow, the novel idea of having something more in a Pet than just a plaything. Willow was certain that she would not have discovered how to grow as a Master, if not for meeting the old count.

That elder had been over 600 years old, and still was as handsome as the day he had been Turned. It had puzzled Willow that he hadn't devolved physically, like certain very old vampires she had met – the Master, for one. She could only think that somehow he remained human looking because he continued to keep human company. And to Willow's further bemusement, his favored human had exhibited none of the physical or psychological effects of being under his dominance.

You keep her so happy, she had quietly pointed out in surprise to the elder, while watching him interact with his human Favorite.

Of course, the elder had laughed. The more she has, the more she gives back.

Willow's eyes drifted from the bed to where Kitten's school books lay, preparing her witch's mind for some future she had yet to choose, and to the car keys that lay atop them.

Cordelia Chase did something she was certain would be the most stupid thing of her short life: she stepped off the safety of the Greyhound bus and into the bus depot of bright and sunny Sunnydale.

"Taxi!" she unnecessarily waved to one of the waiting cabs at the curb. It was taking all the tall brunette's panicked will power not to turn around and flee back inside the bus depot and back to the bus she had just disembarked. She checked her pocket again to see if the two twenties her friend Gunn had slipped to her were still there.

"Okay, let's do this Dennis," she breathed to herself, as she slid into the cab's back seat. "In and out, back in L.A. by nightfall. It's only just midday, we can make it."

Oh great going, Cordy, the brunette scolded to herself. No talking to the poltergeist who inhabits the brick in your backpack when there's business to be done! She rattled out her old home address to the cab driver.

After a four month's absence, Cordelia Chase was finally returning to Chase mansion.

Her hand briefly touched the bite scars on her neck beneath the high collar she wore, as she watched familiar Sunnydale streets roll past. She certainly didn't want to reflect on the irony of her situation, of how the Cordy who had been emergency evac'ed out of Sunnydale to an L.A. hospital was definitely not the same Cordy sitting in this cab now. For one thing, completely poor now. The Chase fortune was gone, dad was imprisoned and mom had fled to her aunt's in New York, no doubt drinking down an endless train of martinis until the feds caught up with her. Cordelia had been lucky that she'd been well enough to stand on her own two feet when the hospital had to abruptly discharge her. Alone, no money, no contacts, no phone numbers...it had been Cordy's strange luck yet again to be attacked by L.A. vamps that night while stupidly wandering the streets, and to have her life saved by one charming Charles Gunn and his street gang of vampire hunters.

Cordy thought about her concerned friend back in L.A., and for the first time since stepping foot on Sunnyhell's Hellmouth soil, the former May Queen and cheerleader smiled, a softer, warmer version of her patented 100 watt 'Miss Photogenic' smile. Charles was not someone she could fall for now, not while her life was so much in messed up flux, because, hello, no money, no life, and living at the teen shelter? Yeah, she was just so perfect date material. She needed to repay Gunn back, for saving her life, for getting her back on her feet, for the bus ticket, for the cab fare...Cordelia Chase was going to face her fears, get what she came for, and then haul her cute ass the hell out of Dodge come sundown.

Ten dollars less to her name and an irate cab driver, short his tip, speeding away, Cordy now stared blankly at the realtor's lock on the Chase mansion's door.

Okay, no problem, she thought resolutely to herself. Dad's lawyer did say her stuff was still here. Cordelia strolled purposefully around the house and through the garden side gates for the back. Parked in the service driveway was one of the items she had come back for; her sweet sixteen birthday gift from dad, the cherry red Chrysler Sebring convertible, looking all the world like she had just left it there only yesterday. The California license plates proudly stated: 'QUEENC'.

Cordelia tried very hard not to think of where her dad was now, especially with her eighteenth birthday now done and gone. Cordy's throat caught and she blinked bravely.

"Well, Dennis, there she is!" the brunette announced brightly to the poltergeist in her backpack. "Let's hope we can get blue book value for her. Then we'll get our own place and think about how to finally make a go for it in L.A." Cordelia headed determinedly for the French doors of the verandah.

"Okay, Dennis," she then said, as she peeked into her pack. "Do you think you can get in for me and turn off the alarm? This is the code." She recited a string of numbers to her ghost.

Only a minute later, Dennis had the house security system deactivated and the French doors unlocked. Cordy slipped in with yet another of her 100 watt smiles.

"Okay, so I have to admit, I'm really glad Anne," Cordy said, referring to the supervisor of the teen shelter. "Convinced me to bring you along, and especially that I managed to save you when that apartment you haunted got demolished! I mean, getting you to inhabit a brick from your old place? I can't believe I even thought of that! But I'm still wigged that you have a crush on me, so, no ideas when we get to my room, buster," she warned playfully, and bounded quickly up the stairs.

Sire was still fast asleep in her bed. Kitten's heart pumped a steady rhythm from her own bedroom, where her witch was very intent on finishing her school assignments. Harmony, she knew, had woken her Family earlier for a shopping trip. Now that it was settled that Willow would find the blonde vampire's brood a suitable home, Harm was taking the opportunity to fuss over her minions.

Why Harm didn't make actual childer, Willow could not guess, but the demon of her former high school pain in the posterior certainly had a strangely strong childer rearing instinct. An instinct that overruled the usual evil desire to take advantage of the opportunities Willow had purposefully laid before the blonde vampire – opportunities for Harmony to establish several hideouts, create a lucrative base with the bleeder's bar, recruit Felix's band of minions...either Harm's demon was that obtuse or it really was not interested in competing for Willow's position and power.

Harmony might not be the sharpest crayon in the box but that never prevented a fledgling from plotting. However, this Harmony was apparently no longer the Harm who had gleefully taken Cordy's bitch crown when Queen C lost her social status. Not only that, she actually did her job well, and was learning from everything her Master had been throwing at her. Willow was pleased. Now the red haired vampire may, to a certain extent, trust her current lieutenant.

Satisfied that all was in order in her house, Willow returned her attention to the papers on her desk. She slid a few rejected housekeeper applications into her 'nope' file. There were three demon applicants left she was considering interviewing – three whom she was certain were competent and trustworthy enough to not be tempted to eat nor eviscerate her Kitten. But the fourth application, which she had been keeping in the 'maybe' category, certainly intrigued the vampire.

She lifted the thin sheet of tree bark from her desk once again, and gazed at the tiny, ancient symbols of the Folk language. She almost considered it a joke, that one of the natural spirits would actually apply for a job – especially for one in her House – but anything was possible on the Hellmouth. The clock chimed in the library. Willow dropped the sheet of bark and smiled, retrieving her long coat and umbrella. This afternoon, she had a foreclosed mansion property to look at, and it was only a block or so away.

Cordy went for her clothes first – okay, first her bank book, and then the carefully filed away title to her car, and then the clothes. Dennis tried eagerly to help with the packing, but Cordelia quickly told him to knock it off. The old Cordy would've wanted the Prada, the Guess, the – no, not anymore, not now. She needed jeans, sensible shoes, god, a nice warm coat. She managed to find some pieces of jewelry worth pawning. Then she accidentally knocked over the packet of photos left lying on her Sunnydale High school books.

She stared at the loose photos blankly. Slowly, she picked them up. She looked at one, then another. Her and Xander. Her and Xander and Willow. Buffy and Will. Willow and....

The smiling faces, and the air of happiness that surrounded them, seemed like a time so far away and yet, stupidly, also like it were yesterday. Cordy remembered picking the developed pictures up on the way to school that morning. She'd ordered doubles, for her and Xander. Willow had wanted copies too. However, when Cordy got to the school library that day, she learned that the two were never going to come back. Never. For something as silly as photos. For...for everything.

They had survived so much since being toddlers together. Sure, the moment Cordy could speak she was the utter princess bitch who ruled their loser hides, but that didn't stop Queen C from falling for, and then breaking up with dork Xander. Nor did that history prevent her from making up with him and Will again, even after the 'X+W fluke' kiss and her own stupid vengeance wish. Death wasn't supposed to happen. Even though she remembered the destroyed Wishverse Anya had created for her, and the bloodsucky end WishXander and WishWill had given her, everything had been fixed of that horrible fiasco. Their deaths. Were not. Supposed. To happen. Again.

"I wish you'd never...I wish," she whispered, clutching the photos hard. She couldn't finish the wish she'd wanted every single night since she realized she was still alive. Cordelia sank upon her bed and cried.

"Miss Rosenberg," the realtor greeted cheerfully as he walked quickly up the driveway. The young woman in complete black and leather, with a large, shading umbrella, turned from her close scrutiny of the leaves of a tree and smiled at him. She was an extremely young looking client but she was offering cash, and that, the realtor agent thought to himself, precluded any personal judgments on his part, yes indeedy.

"I understand this is the Chase mansion," the slender, pale girl beside him noted, in a pleasant, soft voice. The realtor smiled cheerfully, in that sincere, fake manner only people who could smell a sale knew how to do.

"Yes, unfortunate what happened to the Chases, but their misfortune, your good fortune," he quipped gaily. He pulled off the realtor's lock and opened the large front entrance. He motioned formally for Miss Rosenberg to proceed him into the house.

As the young girl stepped in, he hurried for the security system panel. Well, the agent mused to himself. It looked like someone had forgotten to arm it, as far as he could tell. He shrugged the neglect off, turned amiably to his client, and began his spiel. "As you can see," he pleasantly informed. "The house is fully furnished. Even some of the previous owners' personal effects remain in the bedrooms, but those can be easily removed if you decide to move in." He flicked a switch. "Well! Looks like we still have electricity. Isn't that a great chandelier? Really complements the entrance and staircase, don't you think?"

Cordelia abruptly raised her head from her hands at the sound of strange voices. Oh god!! People were in the house! She froze, unsure what to do. She could hide until they went away, a very Scooby thing to do in case the voices belonged to something Hellmouth-y, or she could pull a 'Queen C' and just act like she belonged here. Or, she could just panic and flee the house.

Cordy knew that later she would look on this moment in personal shame, because she opted to panic and flee. The photos fell scattered onto her bedroom floor as she hastily rose and gathered up the most important stuff. She didn't think she could manage the suitcase. She abandoned it and moved furtively out into the upper level hallway, and then, after quickly checking that the coast was clear, ran down the staircase for the verandah doors. As she stepped upon the marbled floor of the first level, that strange bad luck that had been sticking to her like a Hellmouth imp since her 'almost-death' made sure she didn't make it undetected. She looked over her shoulder in sudden dread as the voices emerged from a side hall.

"Really nice vintages left in the cellar, don't you think? Why, hello!" the realtor exclaimed, at the sight of a tall, athletically figured brunette standing poised near the staircase.

Cordy's face froze into a silent scream. There, stood one half of her worst nightmare.

"Sleep," Willow simply said, passing a hand over the realtor's eyes. The man collapsed.

The world, for Cordelia, became a slow motion fantasy. She could hear nothing but the hard pound of her own heart as the slim redhead in the long leather coat determinedly approached, her green eyes large and so brilliantly cold. Cordelia ran for the French doors, but somehow that jerky slo mo sensation afflicted her flight response and she found the vampire before her instead, blocking her way. Cordelia tried desperately to prevent herself from running into the vampire – she back pedaled, falling upon her behind. Her backpack and its contents hit the floor.

Again, she was stuck in the molasses of her slow motion hell. Cordelia could distantly hear the rubber soles of her canvas shoes squeak on the polished marble as she desperately scrambled away from Willow. Somehow her feet gained the solidity of stairs and she pulled herself up. She ran, pounding up the steps. All she could think was: in her room, on the desk, a stake –

She burst into her bedroom and leapt wildly for the sharpened wood on the desk top. As she turned around with it in her hand, she finally screamed aloud, feeling Willow grab her arms. Somehow she lost the stake. Somehow, she ended up on the floor of her bedroom, scrambling among the abandoned photos. Willow reached down, her grip cold, and flung the flailing brunette easily upon her bed.

"DENNIS!!" Cordelia managed to shriek, as she felt Willow straddle her. The vampire's head whipped around. One of the redhead's arms arced through the air, and caught the flying stake.

"A ghostie," the vampire mused softly, holding the stake. She then spoke a series of words Cordelia didn't understand.

"BANISH," Willow declared with a gesture, and Cordelia actually felt Dennis' presence abruptly leave the room.

"DENNIS!!" Cordelia screamed in horror, realizing that now she was truly alone with Willow. She was going to die – again. She shrieked and cried and struggled with everything in her, trying to dislodge the vampire on top of her. Willow merely gazed calmly down, and held her firmly down.

Finally, Cordelia was too exhausted to scream anymore, much less struggle under the vampire's firm, frightening grip, and hysteria left her head light and floaty like a silly, useless balloon. She cried and felt herself diminished, helpless, still so very scared, and of course, very crappy looking. She finally dared to look into the vampire's watching, enigmatic eyes and sobbed.

"How cute," she said pleasantly, with all the affection she could muster, as she took in the sight of her human self next to the Slayer. Even after nearly two decades, seeing a memory of her own pink, fuzzy human self still made Willow want to puke. However, that really was an unfair, knee jerk reaction. She did get to meet a version of her young, innocent self in one of her dimensional hops, and taking her own sweet virginity had been fun. Lots of fun, actually. Willow suppressed a wicked grin.

The vampire continued to pick up more photos from the floor, as Cordelia watched her with haunted, brown eyes, clutching a pillow to her chest. The brunette sniffled quietly. Willow could easily tidy up the room with a bit of magic, but Delia was on sensitive pins and needles already. No need to startle her further.

"W-What did you do to Dennis?" Willow heard hoarsely asked. She had been waiting patiently for Delia to begin asking questions, but she was surprised that concern over her ghost was the first one.

"Your ghostie?" Willow asked casually, as she carefully patted the stack of photos, even the crumpled ones, into a neat pile, and slipped them into their envelope. "I just sent him to a nether realm, that's all. He can come back whenever he figures out that all he has to do is think very hard about you."

"Oh." Cordelia cleared her hoarse throat. "Okay. So...then what are you going to do to me?" the young woman asked, with a sad, frightened squeak to her voice.

Willow decided it would be safe to look directly at Delia, the scared brunette stiffening in the bed.

"Nothing, Delia," Willow assured softly, looking gently into her fearful, brown eyes. "Nothing you don't want." Then the vampire slowly stood up.

"I have to see to the realtor agent downstairs," Willow informed pleasantly, carefully moving slowly away from the bed and the brunette with the pounding heartbeat. "And make sure he leaves the house safely. Don't go anywhere, now." The vampire disappeared through the door.

Cordelia sat dumbly. Somewhere in the outer vestiges of her light headed awareness, she could hear the louder, surprised vocals of the revived realtor agent and some of Willow's softer, calmer tones. The 'panic and flee' option had obviously not worked just moments before, Cordy thought to herself dazedly. She certainly did not want a petrifying re-enactment of Willow chasing her around the house again. She could try staking her again, Cordy hazard, as her wide brown eyes sought out the stake, sitting once again on her desk. However, that sounded too much like dumb option number two. Or, the brunette thought almost hysterically, she could believe the vampire, about not hurting her. Cordy had to press a hand to her mouth. Now that definitely sounded like dumb option number three.

"I don't want to die," Cordelia whispered into her hand, when she realized Willow had already returned and was standing, completely still, in her bedroom doorway. The vampire was holding a glass of water.

"Then," Willow reassured slowly, as she approached the brunette and offered the glass. Cordelia found herself accepting it. "That's not going to happen, Delia."

"Okay," she said, strength returning to her words. Willow allowed a small smile, hearing the familiar self conviction that was Delia's trademark. "Then what do you want from me, Willow?" the brunette asked bravely.

"Answers, Delia," Willow softly gave, as she carefully sat at the edge of the bed once more. "Only answers. I mean, it's so surprising to see you alive. Satisfy a little vampire's curiosity, please."

Cordelia stared doubtfully – and still with a healthy amount of fear, at Willow – but she opened her mouth to comply.

Delia had always been good with talking, Willow observed privately, about an hour later. Especially about herself. The brunette, to Willow's secret delight, seemed to forget, every so often, to be wary of who she was sharing with, and the former cheerleader's natural enthusiasm for conversation would break through. Willow easily learned about everything Delia knew of her near death at her and Xander's hands – or teeth, actually. The brunette, however, had no clue as to what Amy's supposed part in her surviving Xander and Willow's attack was. Delia easily shared what had happened to her since then – about her rescuers in L.A., and about who she was currently staying with. In looking at Delia's current fall from grace, Willow was finding the former cheerleader's plight almost pitiful, surprisingly.

"So what are your plans when you return to L.A.?" Willow asked politely. Ideas were forming in her head; interesting ideas, which she wanted to latch on to and work her wiles to make happen. But not just yet. Her instincts were with her, however, on those interesting ideas. She noticed Delia's bright eyes suddenly shadowing.

"I'm not sure," Cordelia allowed. "But," she added with some cheerfulness. "I'm still alive and here to decide that I don't know, and that's something. Especially when, so far, you don't seem to be hungry. For me, I mean. Are you?" she asked hesitantly.

"Oh!" Willow exclaimed, rising from the bed. "Speaking of food, that's Kitten. I called her to come by and bring some take out for you. Are you ready for some Chinese?"

"Sure," she finally said slowly, rising from her bed to hesitantly follow the smiling vampire. She wiped at her face, hoping she looked okay for company. "You know that's...my favorite, Willow."

"There's – " Tara exclaimed, with a look of surprise. A shift suddenly happened to the air, and the kitchen cabinet doors and drawers began opening and slamming. "A ghost! A-A mad ghost!"

"Dennis!" Cordelia cried out, realizing he'd finally returned from where ever Willow had sent him. "It's okay! Everything's okay now, and I'm sorry you got 'nethered' but can you please stop!!"

The presence in the kitchen ceased its tantrum. A drawer, however, opened slowly, and a butcher knife floated into the air.

"I get the hint, Dennis," Willow acknowledged pleasantly. She carefully looked away from the two young women who sat with her at the kitchen table. It wouldn't do for Delia or Kitten to see her little surge of anger at the silly ghostie's threatening display. She had to admit, it was quite a loyal, and capable ghostie though. She thought briefly of that wood bark housekeeper application on her desk.

"Tara's human and she's nice, so don't do anything to her, Dennis," Cordelia warned. She smiled at the blonde witch. "He's really all looks. He's the gentlest poltergeist guy I know." Tara smiled in return.

"Kitten," Willow suddenly said almost petulantly. "Feed me now." Tara obliged by picking up a large shrimp with her chopsticks and offering it to the grinning vampire.

Cordelia was busy adding more fried rice to her meal. She hadn't eaten so well in like, well, for a very long time. The practice of the teens at the shelter of scoring free food from gallery openings or show premieres didn't make for very satisfying meals. Cordelia had relied on her looks and social skills to keep her inside such functions when her shelter friends were getting themselves kicked out. It was a great survival skill, as Gunn had pointed out to her, but Cordelia was tired of just surviving. She wasn't that great at roughing it on L.A. streets.

"Willow, why be a club owner?" Cordelia asked curiously, unfortunately around a mouthful of food, but she was beyond caring about manners right now. "It just doesn't sound evil enough."

While she had been tackling the chinese take out voraciously, Willow had taken the opportunity to leisurely explain all about herself – her disappearance, the missing nineteen years, Tara – which Cordelia still had to wrap her mind around. Willow, gay? – and, about what the redhead was currently up to now. Seeing Willow as rich and ready to re-open the Bronze as a club was yet another development Cordelia found just too surprising. Little, shy, bookish Willow, an evil Master vampire, the brunette mused. And gay.

"I've done lots and lots of evil things," Willow said off handedly, as she chewed shrimp. "Except be a club owner."

"Oh!" Cordelia then exclaimed, her brown eyes bright at her sudden great thought. "I was just so distracted by the 'you and Oz' thing to realize, because you had made such a cute couple. And then there was that terrible 'you and Xander' fluke thing, which I still won't talk about. But you and Buffy? Now I get it. You always had it in you to be gay!"

Willow stared at Cordelia, as the former cheerleader smiled a dazzling smile sparked by her self revelation.

"Oh yes!" Tara quickly accepted. She had been waiting for Buffy to show her pictures of the old Willow, but now Cordelia had offered the perfect chance. The brunette quickly left the kitchen table for her room. Tara turned to her vampire.

"I can understand about Xander," Tara mentioned a little shyly, noticing how Willow seemed extremely discomforted by the recent revelations. "But how did you and Buffy – ?"

"We didn't!!" Willow protested, quite loudly. "We never! And hello, she's the Slayer, like, like as if I would now," Willow stated with a derisive sound from her lips at such an assumption. Tara suppressed her smile and tried to look suitably uncertain, and possibly a little disapproving. Willow's little slip about 'now' was interesting, especially after her close interaction with Buffy in her hospital bed only two nights ago.

"I found my pictures of Willow when we were in grade school!" Cordelia announced triumphantly, as she reentered the kitchen with a stack of photo albums. "And you should see the ones of her in braces."

Willow wondered if her parents had ever bought her a grave plot, because she was ready to dig herself a new one and plant herself in it.

"Oh great! It's so late, and I totally forgot to call Gunn and let him know I'm not at the L.A. downtown station for him to pick up!"

The three young women were seated in the Chase mansion's cozier, entertainment den, surrounded by loose photos, photo albums, and even year books. Cordelia stood up.

"I bet the phones don't work," she realized. Willow reached for her leather coat which lay beside her, and rustled through the pockets for her cell.

"Take as long as you need," the vampire offered with quiet gallantry. She was rewarded by one of Cordelia's amazing smiles. The former cheerleader left the room with the cell phone.

"I'm glad she's alive," Tara said, turning with a soft smile of her own to Willow. "She's really wonderful."

"You didn't know her as the Bitch, Queen C, Kitten," Willow remarked, as she sipped one of Mr. Chase's older red vintages. A few drops of Kitten's blood flavored it. Delia, surprisingly, did not even blink when her witch provided the drops of blood. The brunette had only watched the blood letting ritual quietly, with a guarded fascination in her brown eyes. "When she's settled and secure, she'll be a female force to reckon with, once again." Willow said the last observation thoughtfully to herself, however, which made Tara glance at her vampire curiously. Willow suddenly reached over to pluck a photo from her witch's hand and tossed it upon the coffee table. She looked displeased.

"Do you really find old human me so interesting, Kitten?" Willow remarked caustically. She had been on her best behavior while Delia had shared her photos and memories with Kitten, but her irritation at her witch's delighted curiosity in her pathetic human self had mounted. She did not like the idea that her evil dead self might now be in competition with the equally dead yet unsullied memory of sweet, little human Willow. Kitten glanced at the photo now lying on the table and then back at the vampire. Her blue eyes were deep; soft and beautiful.

"She's a part of you," Kitten said shyly. "I just...I l-l-l-lo – " Her girl swallowed, and Willow, to her wonderment, was suddenly surrounded by the aural sensation of the hard, thunderous pound of Kitten's heart. "I l-l...like alot of...the parts of you."

Taken aback, Willow could only – there was something – so much, in Kitten's eyes –

For the first time, as a ruthless demon, Willow felt...self-conscious. And what – shy? She felt the little, bashful shift of her own body, and the hesitant smile that took possession of her own lips.

"Oh!" Cordelia exclaimed upon reentering the den. Willow felt her witch pull back, blushing, and the vampire reluctantly put the glass of red to her lips, camouflaging her ire. Delia took that as a sign that her interruption was taken with good grace. She approached the vampire with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Willow." The brunette handed the phone to the red head, and returned to her seat on the couch by Tara.

Cordy had caught herself just in time from unconsciously sitting next to the vampire. She could not believe how quickly she had relaxed in her killer's presence, especially after the big hysterical waterworks she had spouted this afternoon. No doubt having Tara there humanized the vampire significantly, and though this Willow was definitely not the Willow Cordelia had known since childhood, she was still familiar, and inexplicably still felt like...oh get a grip, Cordy mentally scolded herself. She and Willow had never really really been friends.

Cordelia knew she was being sentimental and really quite stupid. This Willow was the same one who had gleefully torn at her throat only months before, with every intention of killing her. Today was like a dream, because obviously she wasn't thinking straight.

Tara was fondly touching the group photo of Cordelia, Willow, and Xander's preschool class in one of Cordy's family albums.

"Did you know," the dark blonde suddenly said. "That Willow was frightened by a pony when she was four?"

"Did you know that Willow has frog fear?" Cordelia volunteered. "I heard her once, mumbling in her sleep over at Buffy's. 'Don't warn the tadpoles!' " the brunette mimicked, trying to sound like a sleeping Willow. Tara burst out laughing.

"Fine, pick on the vampire," Willow pouted, as she sunk into the couch. "Phobias are very legitimate medical conditions."

Cordelia watched Tara put a hand affectionately behind the redhead's neck, prompting Willow to reluctantly smile.

"You really are different," Cordelia then observed. "I mean, not different from your human self, because, no-brainer, of course you are. Especially with you dressing so much better – in an evil kind of way. But you really are different from that time I am not really happy talking about either."

"You mean when Xander and I tried to kill you?" Willow clarified. "Yes, I am. It's cos I'm older. And some might say, wiser!" Willow paused a moment, thinking. "Delia, can I see your neck?" she then asked, reaching over Tara for the former cheerleader.

"That is, if you want me to," Willow added, carefully retracting her hand. She should have realized, Delia had always placed such value on her model perfect looks. She would find the scars ugly, whereas Willow, being a vampire, liked such marks.

"No, it's okay," Cordelia asserted with mustered casualness. "You made them anyway." She reached stiffly for her high collar and pulled it down, revealing, on her richly toned skin, the white bite scar Willow had made. She felt a cool finger trace the ridged skin.

"I lacked such finesse when I was young," Willow observed, with a note of self chastisement. "See Kitten? That's my fledgling self's killer mark. Nothing at all like what you have on your neck."

"Tara has a bite too?" Cordelia asked incredulously. The blonde witch obliged the brunette's curiosity by pulling away her button down's lapel. There, at her pale throat, were the distinct twin scars made by fangs.

"Well, you two were trying to kill me," Cordelia accused weakly. She didn't know why she was putting up with Willow's attention. It wasn't like the vampire was truly concerned about her, was she?

"Delia, do you like it in L.A.?" Willow suddenly asked, sitting back and finally removing her touch from the brunette's throat. Cordelia distractedly replaced her collar, and, rare for her, didn't know what to say. L.A. wasn't exactly safer than Sunnydale, since she'd proven herself, her first night on the L.A. streets, to be a vamp magnet, but yet, where else could she go?

Willow then bombed her with a question. "Delia, would you like to be part owner of a club?"

When Cordelia woke up in her old bed, in her old bedroom, that morning, she had to wonder what the hell happened to her life between last morning and today.

"Dennis, no peeking!" she called out automatically, as she left her room to take a hot shower that had the brunette luxuriating under its warmth for almost an hour.

The important issues that ran through the former cheerleader's mind, as water ran down her body, were these: Willow was still evil, but for some reason, Cordelia didn't mind. Willow was offering her a job and a place to stay, and Cordelia was actually entertaining the idea of accepting.

"Am I evil?" Cordy asked herself as she dressed. "Why isn't this bothering me? She's evil! I think I must've done something to my brain when I hyperventilated yesterday, Dennis. Here I am without an ounce of Chase pride and deciding I'd rather work for my killer than have an honest life – god, I'm pathetic!"

It was that Willow-smile, Cordelia finally decided. The vampire had been, hands down, truly charming last night and had said all the right things, always smiling that little smile of hers, and Tara! Either Tara was not the brightest girl Cordelia had ever met, besides Harmony – which, Cordy decided determinedly, really did say something about blondes – trusting the vampire like she did, or Willow really was what she appeared to be. Beyond reason, the red haired vampire was nice to humans.

"Oh! Eww!" Cordy hurriedly shut the refrigerator when she realized it had sprouted its own mini Hellmouth. If she was going to live here again, she was going to have to take care of that, quick.

And that was another thing; Willow intended to buy her parents' house – for vampire Harmony and her gang to live in. The redhead had offered Cordy ownership of the house, with the only requirement being that the former cheerleader live there.

"A human owner is good," Willow had smiled as she sipped dad's best red last night. "They keep the other bad vampires away."

Cordy could not dispute the logic, but at the same time, living in the same house with vampires?? How was Tara able to do this?

Cordelia looked at the slip of paper Tara had given her, containing her two phone numbers and dorm address. She was going to track that girl down and get some answers.

"First," Cordelia announced, as she and Tara sat down in UC Sunnydale's cafeteria. It was an early lunch, but Cordy hadn't had anything to eat yet and Tara didn't seem to mind. "Willow's evil, right?"

"But she promised you she and Drusilla won't kill people anymore." Which explains, Cordy added mentally. Why I'm still alive. "And the only evil stuff she's done so far, is kick the ass of all the vampires in Sunnydale?"

Tara nodded, slowly eating a yogurt. Since Willow was offering Cordelia a chance to be a part of her Family, the witch felt safe enough to discuss some of 'Willow's business' with the brunette.

"You wouldn't be able to stay with her if she were murdering families, or terrorizing the town, or trying to bring hell on earth, would you," Cordelia then noted, thoughtfully watching the dark blonde. That was the thing. Tara was obviously a very nice girl – although with really embarrassing taste in clothes – and again, unless she were lacking a brain, the older girl was, for some reason, with Willow.

With Willow, clarified Cordy to herself, besides the whole 'I was kidnapped then enslaved against my will' deal.

"Well," Tara sighed. "S-She has done all those things in the past. Very, very bad things," the blonde girl added with a brief, sad smile. "She's still evil, just not as um, interested anymore, in those kinds of evil. If she were still like that, then yes, I wouldn't be here." In spirit, mind, and will, Tara added silently to herself.

"Buying houses...setting up a club...being nice to people. It's like," Cordelia gestured with her yogurt spoon, her brown eyes lighting up. "She's settling down. Wow. I guess you can kind of retire from major evil, can't you?"

Tara smiled at the observation, then gave the brunette a hesitant look. "The...being nice to people? She's a vampire, s-so she's not really like that with humans, in general. She's actually only been nice to you, and to me."

"Really?" Cordy exclaimed. That revelation definitely intrigued the former cheerleader. Pre-vampire Willow and herself had only grudgingly become 'sort of' friends, even after the infamous 'Xander+Will fluke kiss' Cordy will never refer to. As a one time, 'sort of' friend, the brunette doubted she rated a 'nice' from the vampire. However, evil things were nice for a reason. With Tara, it was obviously because Will wanted to get inside her skirt, so – "She's not looking to make me a sex slave too, is she?"

"Hm," Tara said as seriously and thoughtfully as she could, trying valiantly to suppress a grin. When Cordelia only stared at her in growing shock, obviously readying for a possible 'Queen C' hysteric, Tara quickly put out a placating hand.

"I think she just wants you to work for her – with her," Tara suggested quickly. "She sees you as an asset, so she's being nice."

"And it's working," Cordelia said miserably. "I don't want to work for something evil, but she's not acting totally evil, so it seems okay. I don't want to live in an evil house, but does Willow really expect me to put up with Harmony and her killing people? She offers me these things and it makes me wonder if she thinks I'm evil."

Tara was finally beginning to understand Cordelia's dilemma, the moral issues Willow was unknowingly presenting to the brunette by her offers.

"Cordelia," Tara said with surprising firmness. "Willow expects you to be a good person. She wouldn't approach you unless she wanted that – that wonderful quality, that's in you." Tara could not help smiling. Cordelia had an amazing aura. Within Cordy's colors the witch saw the pulse of such strong, personal conviction. It was astounding. "I'm the Pet, so I don't have much say, but I think you're going to provide a positive challenge to her b-because I think you're going to be allowed your say."

Tara was pretty certain of that. Cordelia, even more so than Anya, was a girl who gave passion to sitting on higher ground – whether with superficial matters or with matters of integrity. She could not imagine anyone compromising Cordelia Chase without literally breaking her, so it only stood to reason that her vampire wanted Cordelia just the way she was.

"Are you saying," Cordelia said slowly. "Willow might give me the power to rule over Harm if we live in the same house?"

"But," Cordelia then said, remembering one of her other, very major doubts. "She's asking me to partner in running her club. Why me? I don't even know the first thing about business! She didn't exactly say, 'Cordy, be my figurehead.' Or, 'Cordy, front me while I do evil things at my club.' Of course she wouldn't say that, because that defeats the purpose of being evil. Is it really the truth, when she says she trusts me?"

"Y-You're her childhood friend," Tara quickly slipped in, before Cordelia could take a breath and begin another one-sided discussion – about herself. "Or, actually, you were more her friend, very, very, um, late in life. But still, she knows you. That's enough for trust."

"But...a business," Cordelia pointed out. "And I haven't anything. I've got nothing to offer but myself. This is legal stuff, and not only that, it's vampire-demon-Hellmouth legal stuff. I don't know the rules. What am I getting myself into, if I say yes?" the brunette asked, slightly fearful.

"The person I go to, when I have questions like those? Is Anya, because she knows alot about demon stuff, and she'll tell the truth. A-At least what she thinks is the truth. I'm too biased. I have to be, t-t-to, y'know," the blonde witch finished weakly.

"To continue being a vampire love slave or else go nutty? I'm going to vote for you not going too nutty, too soon," Cordelia grinned at her new friend. Tara squeezed her arm gratefully.

After Willow's childhood friend had left, Tara made a quick call to Anya to let her know Cordelia was coming to visit. It was actually not a very quick call, considering that she had to stammer through the whole story of how the former cheerleader was apparently alive and why the brunette was seeking Anya out. After shutting her cell phone off, Tara sighed to herself, hoping she had done the right thing in encouraging Cordelia to seek answers when a saner person would've told her to leave town, and never look back. Checking her watch, she gathered her books to head for her next class.

"Hhhhh – " she suddenly inhaled, when her books pressed against her breasts. They were still a little sore from the piercings. Several curious glances in the cafeteria were thrown in her direction, and Tara, blushing with embarrassment, hurried away. She was glad that Harmony was the only person so far that Willow had shown them off to. Vampire to vampire, they could easily enjoy the ownership significance of the piercings on her self-conscious Pet self. Aesthetically, she actually did appreciate them; they were pretty, in a sensually kinky way, and she had admired how such jewelry looked on the chests of gay men. She just wished she didn't have to be in the same room as her breasts when they had to be done, which of course, Willow was so gleefully happy to take care of, herself.

"Oh Kitten," Willow had breathed, pouting as she caressed Tara in her Sanctum. "Are you sure? I can show you pictures – and testimonials! – all online. I can tell you personally that the actual piercing doesn't hurt, you just feel kinda sore afterward. I just think you'll look so beautiful with them, Kitten."

And Willow was right, the procedure itself hadn't really hurt at all, her vampire was that quick. And Willow had made certain all of Tara's curiosity and questions were satisfied, using the trusty internet. It was just that the idea of getting pierced had been Frightening, and Tara very well knew Willow had found her fear of the needle arousing. Such was the nature of her vampire's sexual dominance of her Pet in her sanctum.

"Willow owns Kitten!" the vampire had snarled into her chest when the double deed had been done. A little later, when her beloved redhead had sated her ownership desires, Tara had brushed fingers through Willow's damp hair.

Give and take; her giving, her vampire taking. A little dominance in the Sanctum, a little need to show off ownership. To Tara – though it did take a bit of on the spot adapting on her part – it was tolerable enough exchange for the unequal relationship established. Outside of their 'official' relationship however, her Willow, her own wonderful Willow, was just as ready to compromise her demonic tendencies and give so much in return. Her vampire was, in such remarkable contrast with the always present, cold killer within, so considerate, funny, warm, and perceptive....this was the Willow Tara was privileged to see, and she hoped, someday, others would have the chance to see too.

She understood her vampire's need to maintain her evil reputation, but being allowed to share the Willow she knew was something she hoped for. When she saw how her vampire behaved with Cordelia last night, Tara's hopes could not help but spark and grow. Willow could never act fully human, that would be unnatural, but she could, if she wanted, be such a good vampire. Tara hoped very much for Cordelia's sake that her Willow would be that.

"Cordelia!" Anya exclaimed from her position behind her sales counter. "You really are alive! Larry owes me ten dollars!"

"You guys made bets on my life?" Cordelia ejected, as she stepped down into the store. "If I'd known about the pool earlier, I would've place one, myself. Did Tara call you?"

"Yes," nodded the ex-demon. "I've decided to offer my consulting expertise for a hundred fifty dollars an hour."

"What??" the taller brunette exclaimed, hands on hips as she gave Anya her patented, 'Are you crazy and also dressed in that?' stares. "I sincerely doubt you charged Tara, and I really hope you didn't!"

"Tara is my friend," Anya stated defensively. "And you made me lose my necklace, my demon power center, thus rendering me the very vulnerable, yet pretty mortal female I am now. So if you want my sage and very valuable advice, give me money."

Cordelia was about to argue the whole 'so I made a vengeance wish and you answered, big deal' debacle, when the door bell jangled again.

As the customer, an older, pleasant faced woman, stepped into the shop, Cordelia took a breath.

"I make you a couple of sales, will you give me advice in trade?" the brunette asked in a patient, low voice.

Anya looked at her, incredulous. "A hundred fifty dollars worth?" the slim girl asked hopefully. Cordelia took another breath.

"That's alot of sales, but maybe we can work out a consignment thingie? Because I have to meet Willow for dinner tonight, and I don't want to move it."

Relieved, the former cheerleader turned on the special 'Cordelia Charisma' that had won her many a May queen's crown, and focused her bright attention on the unsuspecting shopper.

"Okay, wait," Cordelia ordered imperiously, as she chewed on her pencil and stared at the notes she was taking on a yellow legal pad. The stingy ex-demon had even included the cost of the paper pad and pencil in the trade agreement too. Cordy was surprised that Anya hadn't rented her the use of a Magic Box chair and table as well.

"I just want to make sure I understand this correctly. The owning the mansion thing? Is completely on the level, because I'm really meant to be the human agent who fronts the home and makes sure no one else can be invited except for whomever's in Willow's family."

"Yes," Anya agreed, counting the surplus money in her register happily. Cordelia had made her seventy dollars in sales, and the day was yet to be over. She was sorry the brunette would have to leave for her dinner date with Willow. "If, like you said, Tara is going to own Willow's mansion, then the only reason for that is to limit vampire access to the property. Also, in the traditional sense, you – if you are a human agent and not a common human servant or Pet – you get to be Mistress of the house. You don't just live there, you have a say in how it's run and what happens in it."

"I like the sound of that," Cordelia murmured, remembering Tara's words. She carefully drew stars next to the 'mansion' point on her legal pad. She gave it a 'three star'.

"Now the human agent thing, I'm going to have to clarify that with Willow," Cordelia stated, as she went over more of her notes.

"Yes," Anya agreed, starting her counting over. She didn't mind, it was one of her most favorite pastimes. "Because you are not bringing any of your own money into Willow's offer as partner, you are obviously going to work for her, even though for the purposes of human law it's going to look like you're equal partners. So you're going to have to find out what you are in Willow's house: are you a possession, like Tara? An indentured servant, working off your service to Willow? A human agent, free to speak just like a real business partner and entitled to what you're fronting?"

Cordelia drew curvy arrows to indicate the urgency of point two: status of Cordelia.

"Ohhh!!" the brunette then exhaled in exasperation, putting both hands to her head. "The business part is just too complicated! I have to ask about what I'm making, if anything, and what my responsibilities are going to be, if any. Asking the right questions is not going to happen with only me there! Can you come to the dinner with me?" Cordy then asked, turning to the ex-demon. From the look on Anya's face, the former cheerleader realized her error. Anya's services would cost her far too much and keep her stuck in servitude at the Magic Box, probably long after Cordy had run out of her own money, if she couldn't make any of the offers with Willow work.

"Nevermind," Cordelia dismissed. "Maybe I'll just say yes to the mansion ownership and pass on the club offer."

"Oh you shouldn't do that," Anya chastised. "This makes me wish I were you and going to the dinner instead. Especially since you're taller and with a stronger, athletic physique, unlike my more frail and slender self. Don't you know any other women who know business?"

Willow slouched at the restaurant table with a cigarette held between her lips, and tried her very best not to scowl. Or pout.

"She's bringing Joyce-mom," she murmured, ignoring the fact that she had made that observation, rather darkly, perhaps for the third time in fifteen minutes. Tara tried not to smile and looked once more out the scenic glass. It was night, and the soft interior light of Giano's second level allowed her to only see her own reflection in the dark glass instead of out into the street, but it was better to look away than to have Willow perhaps catch her indulgent grin. This time the couple was seated at a very secluded table next to the scenic window, carefully screened from the view of other patrons by a convenient pillar and large leafy plants.

"Kitten, you'll be free to speak and you're to act more my playmate," Willow instructed, as she exhaled. Tara had noticed that Willow had been smoking quite a bit lately, since Saturday night, and she wondered why that was. She didn't know about everything of Willow's business, but it was possible that her vampire's tension wasn't all business related.

"Thank you Willow," she acknowledged softly. Tara decided to take a chance, and slipped one of her hands into her vampire's.

"Be patient with Cordelia," she advised as gently as possible, her thumb soothing the back of the vampire's cool hand. "She wants to make this work too."

Tara withheld a sigh of relief, when Willow only smiled and accepted her words. Green eyes looked up at her mischievously.

"Kick me under the table whenever I get mad, Kitten," Willow further instructed with a grin. "Just make sure it's me you're kicking." Tara had to giggle at that. Willow then looked up, and the blonde witch noticed the approach of the maitre d' with a smiling Cordelia and a rather nervous Joyce Summers in tow. Tara felt Willow rise politely from her chair.

"We're here! What an interesting decor!" Cordelia announced, as she easily slipped into the chair the maitre d' pulled out for her. Already, the former cheerleader looked poised and entirely at home – like she owned the place. Or supplanted it. "Early Russian mafia chic! Kitschy!"

"Cordelia," Willow said sweetly, as she sat back down. "Joyce-mom. So glad to have you here."

"Hello Willow. Tara," Joyce acknowledged with a small smile. "Nice to see you both." As the maitre d' politely pushed her chair in, the Slayer's mother looked rather pointedly at Willow's ash tray, and the lit cigarette between her fingers.

Willow snubbed the cigarette out and gave a curt indication with her hand. The maitre d' reached in and the ash tray quickly disappeared. Willow smiled.

She felt Kitten's instep rub reassuringly against her pants leg, beneath the table.

Joyce, after the surprise of finding Cordelia at her art gallery door – completely alive and apparently not a zombie resurrection – and after being told in enthused, Cordelia fashion of the young brunette's current situation, had only one thing to say:

"That sounds positively medieval!" she had exclaimed, and immediately picked up the phone to consult Rupert. Unfortunately, Rupert – possibly because he was British, and therefore slightly stuck in the 1800's (unlike his Ripper self, who was stuck in the 1970's), didn't quite see the servitude angle with the alarm Joyce was experiencing.

"Extraordinary!" Rupert kept saying. "A-And will any of this involve a blood oath, or a pledge of one's body, or soul, or-or, perhaps one's first born! Or – "

"Honey," she said to Cordelia as gently as she could. "Maybe Giles is the one who should go with – "

"But he's a librarian!" Cordelia whined, sounding suspiciously four years younger than she currently was. "What does he know about running a business?"

And so, with much encouragement by Rupert to at least take notes of the meeting, which Joyce was resolved not to do, she found herself sitting across from Willow and giving the young vampire a very determined mother's 'no nonsense from you, young lady!' eye.

And, because she knew at some point her daughter and her one time best friend were sure to interact again, Joyce also gave the slim redhead a mother's measured eye.

Willow, this evening, was not at all like that posturing, evil thing that had deliberately portrayed such a sinister mask of innocence in the hospital room. This Willow was polite, accommodating, and often remained attentively silent, allowing Cordelia and Joyce to dominate and guide the conversation. She didn't even drink blood, while everyone else ate around her.

Joyce did notice however, as any woman would, that the young vampire played constantly with Tara's one hand as the blonde witch ate, and Joyce could bet the art gallery and her house that Tara was discreetly playing footsie with Willow beneath the table. The vampire was, if Joyce remembered correctly, technically only nineteen years old, and was a seventeen year old child still when she was Turned. Joyce had overheard Rupert and Angel discuss how Willow was a master vampire now, but frankly, all Joyce could see was a young girl/thing, who had obviously taken on quite a lot of responsibility, drawing comfort from the touch of her human girlfriend. Buffy, although Joyce had never wanted to recognize it, had also been a far too powerful girl with too much on her own small shoulders, too early in life.

"Is this the first club you'll be running, Willow?" Joyce asked carefully. They had finally gone over, and agreed, on Cordelia owning the Chase mansion, and of her status in Willow's organization. That 'status' had still sounded a little less emancipated than Joyce would have liked, but for Cordelia's sake, it had certainly sounded a hundred times better than Tara's own status.

"Yes Joyce-mom," Willow admitted. "The Bronze is the first business I intend to keep and maintain. Well, that, and I'm looking into purchasing the Magic Box."

"Really," Cordelia exclaimed, her brown eyes taking on a devious glint that had the other three occupants of the table stare at her warily.

"But it sounds like you're just going to be the owner, Willow, or at least the silent one, while it's Cordelia who will be present at the club and possibly running it. Am I right?" Joyce questioned.

"Yes," Willow answered a little defensively. Her hand played with Tara's more. "But I am setting up the Bronze for its re-opening. Inspections, permits, licenses – "

"I don't know a thing about that," Cordelia declared, interrupting. "Running a club. Although I definitely know how to dance the night away in one."

"Well then, you two are going to have to find yourselves a very competent manager," Joyce determined, looking at the two young ladies. "Unless you want Cordelia doing a crash course in business and club management."

Joyce watched Willow pause to carefully choose her words. Tara, Joyce also noticed, was most definitely doing something with her foot beneath the table.

"As part owner," Cordelia announced, already, apparently, falling into the role. "I'd really like to know what goes into running the club, but I want the place to be a success, so I should definitely keep my hands off it in the beginning. A manager sounds like a great idea, Willow!"

"But first," Joyce interjected firmly. "Let's clarify what Cordelia's actual rights are to the Bronze. For one thing, what would be the cost for her to buy back her own share if that's what she wants? Also, since she has no money, how will her taxes be handled? – "

And Willow listened, very politely, while the older woman talked. Joyce could easily see that the young vampire desperately wanted a cigarette.

"Mrs. Summers, I can't thank you enough for being there for me," Cordelia gratefully stated, as she drove Joyce back to the Summers home. The dinner finally over, Joyce was feeling a little drained. She had helped Cordelia secure a place of good standing in Willow's organization, but she could not shake the nagging feeling that this whole situation was just not healthy for the young brunette. Unlike Tara, Cordelia had the choice to leave Willow's offers and walk away with a vampire-free life. Cordelia Chase, as far as Joyce knew, was self preserving to a self centered extreme. She just did not seem like a girl who sought the hard way.

"Cordelia," the older woman began. "Now that you've heard Willow's offers in detail, are you really going to consider them?"

"You know Mrs. Summers, I don't know why I'm even still here in this town," she answered ruefully. "I have a chance for a normal life if I'd just go back to L.A. But," Cordy added. "After everything I know and everything that's happened to me, the vamp magnet? I don't think I can have a normal life, much less remember what one was like."

Becoming involved in Buffy's secret world had really screwed up her own life – no offense to Joyce-mom. Even the other teens at the shelter looked at the former cheerleader as some crazy freak, with her weird nightmares and supposedly irrational fears of the night. At least in Sunnydale, people understood, right? And then there was the other issue, the one that began when a vamp Will and vamp Xander – in her own reality! In practically a sick, horrifying repeat of what had happened in the Wishverse she had made! – had lunged for her throat and irrevocably changed her life.

"What happened to Will and Xander," Cordy mused slowly. "I can't seem to escape that. Even though that vampire's not really the Willow I knew, it's almost like some twisted second chance for me to – and god, believe me when I say, 'I can't believe I'm saying this!' – to make some kind of...difference? To my life and hers."

Cordelia continued. "I mean, you're probably wondering how I can even think such a thing, that I could possibly have any effect in Vamp Willow's life – Ha! like as if I really want to. Which I guess I do, so never mind," she hurriedly amended in embarrassment. Some lifelong habits of mocking the Willow-loser were hard to break. "It's just that, take this for example: Willow gives Tara this really expensive SUV. And I ask Tara, 'stolen, right?', and she says yes. So I ask, 'how can you live with that, Tara?', and she says she can't really, so she asked Willow to please donate the car's value to a few women's shelters in L.A., and Willow does."

"And," Cordelia added dramatically, as Joyce sat in stunned – or enforced – silence. "The car was a gift from a demon to Willow, who then gave it to Tara. So when the demon heard about the donation, he matched the amount and gave the same to another group of shelters," Cordy finished triumphantly. "That's roughly one twenty divided between several shelters."

"Cordelia," Joyce began slowly. She was trying to get beyond the number the brunette had quoted, but it certainly floored her. She had no idea Willow was dealing so easily in those kinds of sums.

"I," Cordy interrupted. "Know I'm not Tara. I don't know what I'll actually get to do, when I work for Will. But I almost died – again – and life hasn't been very pretty since then. And maybe I can just forget everything now, and move on, but things – " And Cordelia unconsciously struck her steering wheel in emphasis. "Just are not finished!"

She briefly flashed Joyce a sad, small smile. "They died, you know? And I just, I need to...am I screwed up?"

"No honey," Joyce answered gently, finally understanding what the young brunette was trying to say. That Cordelia, after a short life of being so self centered, could now think this way, was almost poignant. Joyce just hoped the young girl's hopes in Willow's promises were not in vain.

"Second chances are always good," Joyce finally sighed, and the older woman's thoughts drifted, in the solemn silence that followed, to somber memories of her former husband Hank, whom she had to stake.

As Cordelia's bright red Sebring finally pulled into the Summers residence, another car, on the other side of town, parked its sleek, black self in a convenient UC Sunnydale spot. Willow disembarked with her Kitten, and pulled out her silver case from an inner breast pocket. She cursed when she realized it was empty. Tara watched as Willow snapped it shut, irritated. She had never seen her vampire smoke an entire pack of her Turkish Specials in one day. They were expensive cigarettes, and she knew Willow liked to savor their fine taste, rather than waste them smoking one after the other.

"You're restless," Tara murmured, as they walked in the dark among the winding paths that led through the campus trees. Willow's hand strayed to touch bark, branches, and leaves. It was cold, and it was silent, and it appeared that the two young women were the only ones out tonight. Willow slipped a cool hand within Tara's coat pocket, and entwined fingers with her witch's.

"Oh, you can fix that when we get to your room, Kitten," Willow purred, bumping close to her girl. Tara grinned briefly, as she looked down to follow the path in the dark, but she did not miss the slight strain in Willow's playful voice.

"What," Tara asked slowly. "Happened between you and Cordelia, yesterday, before I got to the house?"

"Nothing," Willow reiterated hastily. "No sex." It took everything Tara had not to burst out laughing at that admission – and to not blush at the resulting unfamiliar, yet erotic image. Thank goodness for the darkness.

God, first Buffy, now Cordelia, the blonde witch thought to herself. Tara was beginning to think that Willow had an eye for all the pretty girls, except, interestingly enough, she'd never slipped about Anya. Yet.

"O-Okay," Tara acknowledged. "But then...Cordelia did turn you on?" the blonde witch asked carefully. Willow made an impatient sound with her lips. She tried to remove her hand from her witch's pocket, but Tara held the hand fast.

"Kitten," Willow growled, and then buried her face in Tara's front. "Why ask these things?"

"Well, she made me chase her, Kitten!" Willow huffed, looking up at her witch. "And she was, she smelled of the most delicious kind of fear, the kind that, rrrrrrr." Willow snarled, and pulled herself closer to her baby, feeling her girl's hot breaths puff white mist upon her face, her hair. "I hadn't had that since I hunted you, in the alley, Kitten," she breathed.

"I remember," Tara whispered, closing her eyes. "Did you..." she asked hesitantly. "Did you want to t-taste her tears too, Willow? Like you did mine?"

"I wanted," Willow growled, lowering her head to the pounding allure of her Kitten's jugular. "Wanted to do everything to her," she hissed against the tempting blood. And Tara understood, perfectly, as Willow remained, lips and teeth pressed against her rapidly beating pulse. Charmed Cordelia had managed to escape, among other evil things her vampire could have done to her, her own death once again.

Willow slipped her free cold hand suddenly into Tara's other pocket, and they remained clasped like that, the vampire snug against her witch's neck. Tara moved her cheek to rub against Willow's soft hair.

"You'll fix it for me, Kitten," Willow spoke into her warm throat, kissing her there.

Willow immediately raised her head. "You mean, you?" she murmured, astonished. The thought aroused her, and she pressed close.

"No." Tara shook her head. "If you scare me like that again, I'll just cry. You...y-you need to go kill something."

Willow's mouth dropped. "Kitten?" she whispered. Was her witch releasing her from her promise – now?? Just when she had passed up such a delicious moment with Delia? The brunette had been so remarkably tempting. The vampire tried to remember that by refusing the killer instinct she had gained herself and her Family another human asset.

A smile grew on Willow's face, as her excitement mounted. Oh, what Kitten was giving her!

"Demon-bad?" the vampire breathed, moving even closer to her warm girl. "For you, Kitten?"

"Yes," Tara acknowledged, feeling the press of her vampire's eager body. Thankfully, her breasts didn't protest the pressure this time. "It has to be bad."

"I can find something, Kitten," Willow whispered excitedly. "I know just the thing. I'll kill a werewolf for you, Kitten."

"Oh, I won't hunt him, he's not bad. He's kinda new at it, so he transforms only with the moon. But some? They can do it at will, and a few of those? They kill people. For fun." Willow nuzzled her witch's neck, still smiling happily. She so looked forward to a good hunt. Especially a challenging one. Hunting ordinary humans lacked the danger element, despite the heady thrill of her victims' terror. The promise of smart prey and the prize of powerful, mystical blood had drawn Willow to more dangerous game later in her vampire life. "I'm going to get one for you, Kitten," she whispered excitedly against her girl.

"Um...no need to bring me trophies, okay?" Tara clarified nervously. The young woman had just wanted Willow to work out her killer aggression, not actually kill something for her. She wasn't sure if Willow's eager promise would entitle Tara to a bloody momento. It was bad enough when the farm cats back home brought the young witch gifts she had to discreetly bury.

"Oh. Okay," Willow agreed, looking up with a sweet expression of disappointment. Tara allowed herself a shaky sigh of relief. She may have just avoided receiving a wolf's pelt for her dorm room floor. Then Willow giggled against her.

"I wouldn't, Kitten," Willow reproached, and Tara realized she'd been played. "You're anti-animal parts, so of course you wouldn't want trophies. So I'll keep them for myself." The vampire happily swung away, one hand still clutched inside her witch's pocket, and began walking again. She skipped beside her girl.

"Hum hm," Willow hummed in light spirits, thinking her rapid thoughts that put such a gleam in her intelligent, green eyes. Tara looked up briefly at the clear night sky. With a happier vampire now beside her, Tara was grateful that Cordelia, the Bronze, and other Master concerns were temporarily set aside for the rest of the night.

As usual, Willow snuck out of Kitten's dorm room by dawn – planting a kiss on each Kitten nipple for good luck – and then returned to her own home to continue sleeping. When she rose just a little after midday, she was in wonderful, anticipatory spirits. Gone were some of the darker, almost broody feelings she had begun experiencing at the beginning of the week. Somehow, all that 'human' behavior she'd been indulging in with Kitten and Cordelia had unbalanced her, and, wonderful Wicca that her witch was, Kitten had deduced what that unbalance was. Willow had left all the responsibility of violence up to Harmony, and had forgotten to healthily indulge in some for herself. She very much appreciated that Kitten was going to let her hunt!

So it was that after reviewing some House responsibilities, Willow did some casting in her Sanctum and launched certain mystical programs to run while she went on an afternoon walk to Chase mansion. By the time she returned in the evening, Puppy would have a list of what among the werewolf population Willow could kill.

Outside underneath the Chase mansion's portico once again, Willow rolled up her umbrella and paused to touch the branches of the tree next to the entrance. Thanks to Kitten's reconnection, the vampire was now more aware of the life presence of such green things and couldn't resist their tactility. She had yet to figure out if her newfound awareness lent her a little more respect for the Goddess and for Life, or just inspired an irrational desire in her to suck a tree down.

Willow turned back to the entrance and murmured a spell that easily unlocked and opened the door. She reached a hand out and encountered the invisible barrier of a home in residence. Willow smiled, having expected the barrier to come into effect now that Cordelia had decided to live in the mansion again. She passed her hand along the invisible shield, feeling its resistant, mystical sting. Ahead, the vampire could see the French doors standing ajar, streaming bright sunshine in. She heard the sound of water running. A flick of her wrist as Willow stepped back, and the front entrance shut and slid the tumblers of a lock back into place again. Sticking to the shadows, Willow made her silent, stealthy way for the mansion's back entrance.

Cordelia finished filling a bucket to the brim with soapy water and then turned the attention of the streaming hose in her hand to the dusty exterior of her Sebring. Mom would've freaked, seeing her daughter wash her own car, but Cordy was not such a helpless, former rich girl. She knew how to do plenty of menial things thanks to less rich friends like Harmony and Aurora. Okay, so she didn't watch too closely to how Harm's brothers would wax their cars – being too busy flirting with them – but she had carefully read the instructions to the car wax she'd bought. First, wash car, then wax. She raised the hose to give her Sebring a thorough shower.

"SHRIEK!!" Cordelia shrieked, when she suddenly spied slim, leather coated Willow, standing in the brief shadows of the French doors porch and watching her with attentive, green eyes. Water arced in the air and Cordy pointed her gushing hose like a very strange water gun at the vampire.

"Good God, Willow, are you trying to give me gray hairs?! Now I'm going to have to check tonight and see, I can just feel it happening already. Has something happened? Are we still on for dinner, tonight?"

"Yes, Delia, still going to have dinner. Just wanted to see how you were doing today."

Cordelia was amazed at how eerily Willow could just stand still. And stare. Like a mannequin, but with real eyes. She wondered if that's how all vampires were, but it wasn't like Cordy had the opportunity to notice that about vampires when they were usually leaping for her jugular. Cordelia returned to wetting her car down again.

"Oh, I'm fine Will," she finally said, regaining her composure. "I just cleaned out the kitchen and Dennis even helped with the vacuuming." Delia then flashed Willow a smile. "It's a big place and we used to have a maid and a cook, so it's nice to have a poltergeist. He may be a guy, but I think he's been a ghost too long to realize he should find dusting embarrassing for his manly image."

"Indeed," Willow softly commented, reminded briefly of her own housekeeper situation. "Did you get to talk to your friends in L.A.?" she then asked politely. Delia's face fell to a careful mask – one that hid a little hurt.

"Those conversations didn't go too well," the young woman said quickly, and a little too brightly. "But we'll work it out."

Willow decided to not comment. She was not up to offering false sympathy. It would appear, however, that Delia was definitely here to stay, if her L.A. friends were that unhappy, and that suited the vampire just fine. When Delia had brought Joyce-mom to dinner last night, Willow had been slightly incensed that the brunette had chosen not to trust her – which of course, had been very smart of her one time, life long enemy. Willow had been impressed by the Queen's astute move, and it had made the vampire want Delia to remain and serve her Family even more.

"You know, I just realized that you've never been to my house," the brunette suddenly thought aloud, as she raised the hose further and maneuvered it around her car. "When you were alive, I mean. We knew each other practically our whole lives. But I never invited you because, well you know, you being a loser, me being a bitch. I doubt you would have liked coming to any of my parties."

"I admit, I was curious," Willow commented quietly from the shade. Delia was dressed in a tank top and very short shorts today, and watching her beautifully female, long, strong body move in such brief clothing gave renewed meaning to the sexist cliché of nubile cheerleader soaping up sexy sports car. However, Delia hadn't gotten to the soaping part yet, and Willow hoped the conversation between her and the brunette didn't deteriorate into an old, adversarial squabble so that she could enjoy the sight of the sudsy part. Inspired, the vampire vividly contemplated her wet Kitten soaping up her wet Impala. Rrrr.

"You didn't miss anything," Delia was declaring, as she finally shut off the hose. Setting it aside, she grabbed the heavy soap bucket and set it near the front of the car. "I always thought you and Xander had more fun between you two than what I had with my own friends."

"Delia, are you being 'oh woe, poor little rich girl me'? Because – " Willow began to scoff. The former cheerleader turned to glare at the vampire, hands and soapy sponge on hips.

"No," the brunette corrected emphatically. "I'm just saying that your kind – the loser faction – and my kind, the popular crowd, did fun differently. And that you probably came away with more with your kind of experiences and memories than I can say with mine." Cordelia turned back to the hood of her car and began to run the sponge over the glistening red surface with gusto. "That's just the way things were. I was a Chase, and you were little Willow. I tried to think of whether I would have done anything differently, say, like when we were in pre-school? And I threw my first insult at you? Which of course was the fateful day that made Xander come to your defense. Because of me, you two became inseparable friends."

"You remember that?" Willow murmured. She drew eyes away from Delia's firm boobies as the brunette vigorously lathered the car hood, and trailed her assessing gaze over the mansion pool, the poolside cottage, the gazebo in the overgrown garden in the distance....to think her pathetic human self had actually wished she could have had an invite to a Chase mansion party, the vampire mused. But she had to admit, that desire had been not so much about seeing what it was like on the other side, but more perhaps about leaving her school time tormentors something to remember her by. Her human self might have been a meek, good girl, but there were times when her active mind fantasized about a little harmless comeuppance. Willow smiled slightly.

"Yes, I do, because that was when I decided what I was and what you were in the universe according to little Cordelia Chase. I doubt I could've thought any differently, and therefore, done anything different, but hey, that was then, and this is now, and what would you call it, me working for you now?"

"And if you stare any harder at my butt, Will, you're getting the hose," Delia warned without even a look behind her. The brunette resoaked her sponge and as she straightened, finally deigned to glance at the vampire. In the bright, afternoon sunlight, Delia's playful smile shown, a beautiful complement to the warmth that surrounded her.

"Okay, Delia. Eyes elsewhere," Willow volunteered amiably, not bothering to point out that her attention would be idly returning to the former cheerleader's tight, tank top front – in case Delia should get it accidentally wet, soon. The brunette moved around the car to bend over and soap its side.

"And that's another thing," Willow heard Delia mutter almost to herself. "You vampires don't blink."

"All the more to see you with, Delia," Willow answered softly – too softly for Cordelia to hear. The oblivious young woman focused on lathering her car. Willow pulled out her silver case, picked a cigarette, lit it, and stood, smoking quietly as Delia enthusiastically tackled her tires. To Willow's quiet appreciation, soap did finally make it to the former cheerleader's cotton clad boobs. When water from the hose arced once more, causing a shimmering rainbow to appear in its curtaining cascade, Willow smiled. There was no doubt in her mind that tonight, at dinner, Delia will finally agree to take on the responsibility of the Bronze. Kitten was her constant Sun, but Delia would become her Sparkle, that flash of dazzling beauty held in water drops and diamonds. Impressive, irresistible, irrefutable. Delia was finally back, her own woman again, and now, much to the vampire's growing content, will become one of Willow's own too.

For Anya, there were two qualities to mortal existence that played an unwelcome constant: things were always uncertain, and things hurt.

When she had been a vengeance demon, always on the move fulfilling wishes of retribution or manipulating women into making them, the outcome of such work was unquestionably certain. The results might be unpredictable – even spectacularly disastrous, but the outcome would always fulfill its purpose of vengeance. Vengeance was never uncertain; vengeance just was. And when one used to be a super strong, demonically powered entity (whom scorned women through the centuries had worshiped almost as a near deity), one never doubted oneself or anything in one's demonic life, nor, had anything to fear of physical harm. Anya missed being inviolate.

"Paper cut!" Anya pouted for the tenth time that day in the shop, looking at her pained forefinger with its Power Puff Girls bandage. "Who knew paper was so dangerous?"

Anya remembered her first wound, nearly a year ago, when she awkwardly handled a box cutter and shallowly cut her own hand. A frantic call to her newest friend, Tara, resulted in a patient, attentive lesson from the kind witch on the uses of a first aid kit. It took a while, but after her first scraped knee, first ugly bruise, and first time striking her elbow into a door frame (an event that had utterly un-womaned her, Anya recalled, horrified), the ex-demon no longer had to rush to the phone for Tara-aid. She had even, when out on a very bad date that resulted in being given a drink called a 'Slushy', actually survived the painful experience of 'brain freeze', all on her own. Menstruation, however, proved itself the agonizingly messy female rite it had been a thousand years before, and Tara had to guide her through that experience too.

Anya knew many things – she had lived over a millennium – but it didn't mean her shiny new mortal status came with all the built in cultural knowledge necessary for a grown girl's physical well-being. Knowledge like which of those icky pills would help with the cramps and bloating, and which brand name product she really preferred in her panties during 'that time of the month'. Thankfully there had been Tara and Cosmo magazine. And were the White Hats any help? Mr. Giles would only 'dear Lord' anything Anya tried to discuss and Buffy only made with the incredulous, smart ass remarks. They were a people who mete out extraordinary pain and received it, on a daily basis. But did they care to share any coping secrets? Anya had to learn to deal with physical pain the hard way. Apparently, humans just bore it, like the mortal, oblivious things they were. Pain hurt, and it only proved how vulnerable, finite, and tiny Anya sometimes felt.

Anya rang the cash register open, and consoled herself with picking up a comforting stack of ones and counting them. So far, money had never tried to hurt her.

She normally did not dwell on her mortality, preferring to adapt and move ahead and enjoy it, somehow, every which way (safely), that she could. But today was proving quite trying on her bravery. Today was just such an uncertain day, and Anya did not like the strange feeling it somehow put in her belly area, or in her chest, or in her throat – all strange sensations which made her want to curl in her futon in the back and not come out. Now human Xander, when she had dated him, had provoked other strange sensations in her, and those she actually liked, as opposed to whatever were the ones she was experiencing now, which only made her want to hide.

Mortal life was truly about change – whether one wanted it or not, it would not stay comfortably constant, manageable, and predictable. And she would call Tara right now, right this minute, for Tara-comfort during this horrible self reflecting moment if she didn't need her phone line to be free.

"Magic Box, Your One Stop Shop For Magic Stuff, Anya speaking," she answered, with brittle cheer.

She listened for a moment, instantly knowing who the older, calm, male voice was. She protested slightly. She argued. Then she pleaded. She made a final offer.

"Can you make an offer for me?" she said desperately. "Please. Ask if they won't consider a partner in the shop....Yes. Yes, I know, but – well, you won't know until you try, right? Yes, yes. Thank you, I can wait, I'll be right here when you call back."

Anya hung up, and she didn't feel very well at all. She looked down at the open register and realized that the money had lost its healing powers because it was a very good possibility that it would no longer be hers to count. She wondered if her ill feelings required the alternate healing powers of ice cream, but she couldn't quite run to the back and get some when the phone was meant to ring again.

Today, while Cordelia had worked off the final amount of her debt to Anya, the tall brunette had pointed out that she was making money for the ex-demon that Anya would never really see.

"You're just an employee, Anya," the ex-cheerleader had stated, emphasizing the obvious. "What do you care about every little cent the shop makes if you can't even touch the profits?"

But that was what Anya had been counting on. The absentee owner had prudently run off to Florida a year ago, leaving the shop and account books entirely in the ex-demon's capable hands. Anya might be slender with elbows and toes susceptible to malicious door frames, but she knew her numbers. Whenever the owner was ready to finally sell the shop, Anya would be waiting to buy, because she would be dead certain of a stable money maker. The one time peasant girl of a millennium ago had scrimped and saved, invested online, and had a solid bank approved business loan for the expected event. She wanted the shop. She wanted it to be hers.

"That's another thing," Anya muttered to herself, staring out upon an empty shop brightly lit against the night. "I never had to ask for anything in a thousand years. I just took it. Evil always gets what it wants. Mortals never do."

Anya answered and listened, heart beating frantically. She believed it skipped a beat in sudden joy at hearing an affirmation. Then she was given a name. Then she was given an address. Then she was given a time.

"Seven thirty p.m.?" Anya repeated woodenly, feeling very pale. "Oh yes, I can make it."

The moment she hung up, she called for a cab. She rushed to close the shop for the night. She hurriedly stuffed important papers into a manila envelope. There was a honk outside; the cab. Anya took one last look at the Magic Box phone, wishing there was time to call Tara.

Willow stepped back into the living area of her home after ending her phone call with her solicitor. If he did not call back, then the seven thirty appointment would be on.

"Refill, Delia?" she inquired pleasantly of the brunette sitting poised on the sofa with her soft drink. They had just gone over the blueprints of the Bronze in her library, familiarizing the former cheerleader with what the place would be like when fully operational. Tonight, Delia was looking far more assured and much like her old, socially confident self rather than the petrified street kid of only a few days before. Willow briefly dwelled on the fond memory of her frightened Kitten in the alleyway. She wondered why pretty little strays seemed to fascinate her.

"No thanks, Willow," Delia answered cheerfully, as the vampire took a seat and set aside her wine glass of blood. "But speaking of drinks, how are you going to manage a liquor license for the Bronze, anyway?" she asked curiously. Cordelia herself had just turned eighteen, and Willow had never been declared dead by her human parents. The Rosenbergs still held out hope that their seventeen year old daughter was missing and alive somewhere. Cordy tried not to think about that. Her own mom might be a lush on the lam at the moment, and dad may be in prison, but the brunette knew both her parents had suffered when she disappeared in L.A.

"Spike," Willow provided simply, with a smirk as she sat back. "He doesn't know it yet, but he's the third owner of the Bronze. Whenever he returns to town, I doubt he'll be interested in helping to run the place. That's not my brother's...style."

Cordelia nodded as she sipped the remnants of her diet Pepsi and ice. Funny, but this was it, then. Vampires will now be a non-bitey part of her life, and Cordy, not very much to her surprise, actually found that fact comforting. No more having to be frightened by what she knew lurked always in the night. No more having to fear if Willow or Xander were out there, somewhere, waiting to give her the death that she had somehow escaped. She couldn't be like Gunn and Anne, who fought the night in their own determined ways. Cordy needed a different way; not something adversarial, not something superhero'ish and self sacrificing, ala Slayer. She just wanted – now that it was actually possible – to be able to co-exist, kill-free, with the creatures like Willow. The club will be Cordy's way, as a non-evil human, to become a part of the supernatural night that had so violently become a part of her.

"I think," Cordelia said thoughtfully. "Since you want the club to have both demon and human clientele, that I'm going to have to visit some of the ones you referred to, in L.A. and San Francisco. I want to get familiar with what you're talking about, and see how everyone else is doing it."

"That's a very good idea, Delia," Willow agreed. "Let me know when you want to go, and I'll give you an expense account."

Delia flashed her a smile. "Thanks. Maybe I'll make the trips next weekend, after I've worked out to Harm how I want things at the house. If she doesn't follow my 'no killing' rule, I get to kick her out, right?" she emphasized. Tara had been correct, Willow was perfectly willing to give Cordy free rein to keep Harmony and her vampire bunch in line. However, Cordelia just wanted to make double sure of her rights before Harm and Co. were officially invited into the Chase home tomorrow night.

"Yes, Delia," Willow agreed, eyes sparkling humorously. "You rule Harm. Make sure she and hers know it."

It was on the tip of Cordy's tongue to almost challenge Willow on what she found so funny about that, but that was the old Queen C, and Willow was definitely not little meek Willow anymore. So the Queen wisely held her tongue. Hey, she reminded herself. Gotta learn cohabitation with bitey vamps after all.

When Anya stepped out of the cab, after a futile argument where she insisted the man wait for her, she watched a shiny red sports car pull out of the property's driveway and speed away.

" 'QUEEN C'," Anya read aloud. She took a quick look down the driveway, hoping to see Tara's new vehicle parked there. It wasn't.

"Oh," Anya fretted slightly, clutching the manila envelope to her coat front. "I had hoped you'd be here by now. You would be able to stand between me and her. You would make my words easier. You could convince her to say yes. I wish I knew where you were. I wish I had one of those portable cellular phones." Then Anya realized that she was wishing aloud, just like a pathetic mortal girl – wishing the kind of laughable wishes no wish demon would bother answering. Anya felt even smaller – was it possible to physically shrink?

She stood before the mansion door and checked her watch. The moment the long hand moved to half past on her watch face, Anya raised a fist, and with a deep breath, knocked rapidly on the door.

They can smell fear, they can smell fear, Anya reminded herself anxiously, as she waited – appropriately fearful – before the large door. Don't get too scared or you'll smell too delicious! And how impressed would she be by that? she self reprimanded one last time as the door swung open. Before her lay the mansion's cozy living area, a large fire lit in the fireplace. Willow sat in an armchair facing the doorway.

"Come in, Anya," Willow invited, with that small curve to her lips that Anya always thought made vampire Willow look like a smug, patient cat. A sleek, hunter cat, not one of those funny fat ones that looked like furry pillows. A glass of blood sat by the vampire's chair. The young woman took that as a good sign, as she stepped down into the living area. If Willow got angry with her, maybe she would kill the former demon girl quickly, and not drink her down.

"I understand you want to buy the Magic Box," Anya began in an upbeat tone, when she'd come to a stop a coffee table length away from where Willow was seated. "And I was interested as well, in buying the shop, but I can't outbid your buying price. I could though, offer to buy half of it. I've." Anya then took the manila envelope she held clutched to her front and opened it hastily. She pulled out some papers, and glanced at them. "Brought some documents to show that I am good for it. My, my approved loan." She leaned from where she stood to hand the correct papers across the coffee table to Willow. "My bank statement. My, most recent portfolio statement," she said with a slight hint of pride. "And, my letters of recommendation from Mr. Alyos, the Magic Box owner, and from D'Hoffryn, my former demon lord and boss." She handed Willow a gleaming parchment with the demonic insignia of D'Hoffryn, written in a sinister, calligraphic script. "I know taking a business partner is a very important consideration for a Master, but I believe I can be a very strong partner for you, Willow."

"I'm sure you can be," the red haired vampire answered softly, as she glanced over the parchment. She put the sheets of paper together, and handed them back to Anya. "But I don't think I need a partner in owning the Magic Box, Anya."

Anya felt herself sink inside. It was a very awful, gruesome feeling, and she wondered if she was again, now physically shorter than she was before.

"Anya, sit," Willow then offered. Rather stiffly, the former demon accepted the invitation, sitting upon the couch with her papers in her hands.

"I do understand," Anya said, with a tremulous, hurt smile. "Your position. I already run the shop – very efficiently, and very profitably. You're probably asking yourself: why give her partnership, when she's already doing the work for salary?"

"Exactly," Willow agreed softly, as she picked out a cigarette from a lacquer box next to her. She clicked open a silver lighter and lit her smoke. "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" she then added as she exhaled, half lidded, glittering eyes regarding the former demon.

Anya fidgeted in her seat, as she stared back at the vampire. Even with her cultural ignorance, she sensed the patronizing nature of that remark.

"Cows," Anya suggested hesitantly. "Who get one half the pasture? Become very happy cows. In my experience. And a happy cow means lots of...happy milk. Happy butter. Happy cheese. For free."

"I want to show you something," Willow suddenly stated, rising, and Anya jumped slightly in her seat. "Don't go anywhere."

"I want to be a happy goat, actually," Anya declared to herself, nervously clutching her papers. "Goats are nimbler, can dance, and make tastier cheese. I need to tell her why a happy goat would be good." She heard a noise, and looked up. Tara had entered from a side hallway, and was laying her purse and keys on a console.

"Anya," the blonde witch addressed warmly, noticing the slim woman on the couch. "What are y – "

"Kitten!" Willow exclaimed as she came rapidly down the stairs. She immediately went up to her witch and kissed her.

"Mm, berries," Willow smiled, tongue flicking out to taste Kitten's lip gloss on her own lips. As soon as Tara finished removing her coat, the vampire led her girl to where Anya sat. The witch knelt to sit on the floor by Willow's legs as the vampire took a seat once again.

Willow handed the former demon a piece of thin parchment that looked like tree bark.

"Ah," Anya exclaimed, carefully regarding the bit of unique paper. "Little Folk writing. But this mark here, it's the Sidhe. Creepy." Anya shuddered, and handed the paper back to Willow. "I can't read it. What's it for?"

"I've advertised for a housekeeper position, and this was one of the submissions." Willow dropped the sheet upon the coffee table. "It says simply, 'For protection, Our service.' "

Anya thought to herself for a moment. "Yes," she eventually said, nodding mysteriously.

Willow picked up her cigarette from the ashtray and sat back, a hand gently petting Tara's hair. "It's from an air spirit," she added. "An actual sylph. It's hiding in my garden."

"And it'll probably just stay there, even if you refuse its offer," Anya stated. She adjusted herself in her seat upon the couch, obviously readying herself to deliver 'Knowledgeable Anya'. "It's enslaved, or else it would have hightailed it back to whatever mountain top it called home and not bother looking you up. Its master must be an incredibly stupid, or very arrogant sorcerer, because only someone of that level of power could enslave one of the Fae. And human – this person has to be human. Demons know not to mess with anything of the Sidhe. Those People can seriously wreak the most terrible vengeance," Anya concluded, shuddering again. Tara looked up at her friend worriedly. She already knew that disrespecting the Fae was a very, very bad thing, and yet if they could scare a thousand year old former vengeance demon, that made things thrice bad.

"So you believe it somehow escaped its current master and is now seeking safe harbor with me," Willow mused. "And yet it can't go to its own people for help?"

"The original caster must break the bind that keeps it here with us," Anya supplied. "The Fae can't help."

Willow nodded. Abruptly, she leaned forward and kissed Tara on the top of her head. "Kitten knows all about that, doesn't she," she murmured, and Tara looked down and blushed.

"The wispy thing must think I can take on her original master," Willow concluded, sitting back up and snubbing out her cigarette.

"Female," the vampire simply said. "Although it looked different to me and Kitten. I saw Julia Roberts with wings. Kitten saw something that sounds like a Jinn."

"Oh yes, sylphs have a history with the magicians of the East," Anya noted. "It picked Julia Roberts out of your head to make a nice impression." The former demon decided not to pursue the Julia Roberts angle with the vampire, although her curiosity was dying to. Willow was frowning.

"I don't want a sylph in my house," the redhead stated. "Can it really do menial work like make beds? It can stay on my property all it wants, and I'll get rid of its master if he or she comes knocking, but I don't want it as a housekeeper."

"Well, that has a Sidhe's mark, but the rest was written by little Folk hand," Anya explained, gesturing to the bit of natural paper. "It does say 'Our'. I'm guessing she's offering the service of those who can come into your home and happily do the work. I don't think she'll be coming inside your house herself."

"If the sylph stays, w-what will prevent the Faerie from coming after Willow?" Tara asked Anya worriedly.

"Oh, they probably know everything about this already, Willow won't be the subject of retribution. However, the sooner she kills whoever the stupid mage is, the better."

"Mmm," Willow merely murmured, sinking thoughtfully into her armchair. She put a small fist to her chin. Anya could practically see the signs; powerful vampire always equaled bored vampire. Master vampires could never walk away from the chance of killing something challenging. The air spirit did very well in picking Willow.

"Kitten," the vampire then asked quietly. Tara raised her head to look at Willow.

"Freeing her would be a very good thing," the blonde witch suggested softly. "She's not happy. And I can give her flowers and other offerings, until you can." Willow ran fingers through her witch's hair.

"I'll accept the wispy thing's offer," Willow decided. She looked up at the ex-demon. "Thank you, Anya."

Anya beamed briefly, glad of the vampire's polite gratitude. She shuffled the papers in her lap nervously. "About my own offer," she began. Willow look at her indulgently, her hand rising from Tara's hair to finally curl around her wine glass of blood beside her.

"Please." The former demon's slim hands clasped together, rising to her chest. Willow paused in her drink, struck as she was by the unconscious gesture of supplication. "Please, consider it. Not just because I want to be a happy goat or because I, like many silly mortals, have bought into the American dream of capitalist furtherance and ownership. I just feel that it would be right and that my strength, when I am strong, would be your strength."

"I'll consider it," was all the vampire finally gave, and raised the glass to her lips. Anya's nervous relief was apparent, and she appeared almost fragile, as she took her papers and carefully slid the precious documents into her manila envelope. Willow felt a squeeze upon her knee.

"I was planning on making dinner," Kitten whispered up to her, blue eyes asking. Willow understood.

"Anya," she addressed, gaining the ex-demon's attention. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Anya, Willow mused, had never really mattered to her, even when the redhead was human. First as a meddlesome former demon, the result of some wish making fiasco by Cordelia, and then as the socially offensive, high embarrassing, strangely knowledgeable girl at school who immediately dated Xander after the sudden Cordy/Xander break up. She had no idea what her best friend had seen in the bossy ex-demon girl. No one was ever good enough for her Xander, Willow had decided back then, but it appeared that her childhood friend fell for women who easily whupped him.

Knowing of Anya the way she did, Willow was surprised that the annoying girl and her Kitten were such good friends. The vampire had assumed it was because Kitten was too kind, but as she watched the two interact in the kitchen, and then over their meal, she began to see some of the Anya that her witch obviously saw. The ex-demon, once the mistress of manipulation and lies, was – as a human girl – entirely, brutally honest, and strikingly sincere. With Kitten, Anya was utterly without guile.

"I've always liked goats myself," Anya had remarked while watching Tara stir a sauce upon the stove. "Because they were frisky and easier to carry. But you make a very nice cow, Tara, you're so dependable and giving." Willow had to suppress a giggle at her poor Kitten's look of dismay. The vampire then quickly informed the clueless former demon of how, in chauvinistic terms, her compliment could be seen as an insult.

"That's not right!" Anya had sputtered. "Cows are necessary! There would be nothing if one didn't have a healthy, fat cow! And why must fat equal ugly? Is Tara considered fat and therefore ugly? She's perfectly shaped for child bearing. And she's so pretty. I'm almost as skinny as you, Willow, and I may never have children successfully. I wasn't able to, before."

Willow merely sipped her blood and gained a new appreciation for how Anya saw things. Kitten forgot her own mortification to stare at her friend thoughtfully. However, that was all Anya supplied of her other, long ago human past for the rest of the evening.

"Coffee!" Anya said happily, when, after dinner, she helped Kitten de-box the new coffee machine that had arrived. "I'm going to learn how to make real coffee!"

Willow was again struck, by how strangely innocent Anya could be. Then she realized what she found even stranger for so cunning and knowledgeable a former demon; Anya, had, in her plea to Willow earlier, sincerely handed the vampire her trust. My strength, she had said, when I am strong, would be your strength.

"You do not offer such things to other demons," Willow murmured under her breath, wanting to take Anya aside and say so to the strange human girl herself. Had the former demon gone mad? Willow speculated with some anger. You know better, Anya – you should not put such trust in a vampire! the redhead wanted to shout at her.

Willow hid her sudden agitation by pouring herself another glass of blood, while her Kitten showed Anya how to grind fresh roasted beans.

Yes, Anya knew better, Willow thought darkly. Kitten had no choice – the vampire had wanted her, so she took her. Joyce, the Slayer's mother, Willow had easily placated, so now she had Cordelia's trust and service as well. But Anya! Willow was a fiend, Willow was evil!! One did not give a fiend one's hopes and silly American Dream, especially so freely and without any seduction and manipulation on the vampire's part. Willow wanted to smell a devious trick, as she watched Anya carefully brew her first coffee, following Kitten's gentle instructions. Instead, she smelled fresh Sumatra Mandheling.

"Oh!" Anya exclaimed, doing that bounce of hers that showed her enthusiasm for something as mundane as making a new cup of imported java. "Hurry and brew!" she ordered the machine. "I hope it tastes good," she then said, turning, with Kitten, to look at Willow. "It is my first time."

"Anything you make will be good, Anya," Willow said sweetly, and returned to the blood in her glass, as the beaming former demon helped Kitten retrieve some coffee mugs.

Possible lost of sanity of 'ex-demons who should know better than to trust vampires' aside, The redhead did have to admit, while watching Anya stretch and unconsciously thrust her perky boobs out while reaching for a mug on a high kitchen shelf – Willow had to admit, she liked the idea of surrounding herself with warm blooded, pretty girls. And not just pretty girls, but smart and capable ones. They enhanced her Kitten too, Willow realized. Not only could Delia and Anya be friends to her girl but they could also be there for her when the demon in Willow became too much for her Kitten. Anya had already helped in that way already.

"Hm," Willow thoughtfully hummed, as she watched Anya concentrate on pouring her first freshly brewed Sumatra Mandheling. "Hmm."

The next day was slightly overcast and a bit dreary. It heralded the deepening of a California winter. Anya, despite the grayish sky, rose from her bed in the back of the Magic Box feeling excited. It was that kind of unexplainable excitement that existed for possible good things – like looking forward to spending time with someone she liked, which had been either human Xander, or Tara. Anya doubted that, when she had been a demon, she had ever had such anticipatory feelings based on nothing but – what did Tara call it? Good vibrations? This was certainly different from the once constant demonic desire for violence and suffering. This was like having a shiny day, with something good to eat, or with lots of money, or with a very pretty dress waiting at the boutique just for her. This was the other side of humanity that didn't include uncertainty and pain. It was irrational joy.

It was midday when the papers arrived mail expressed to the Magic Box door. Anya could barely contain her excitement as she tried to rip the envelope open without ripping the precious contents. Within, were all the legal documents she hoped for, awaiting her signature.

For a full fifteen minutes, Anya did the capitalist Money Dance in every free spot in the store.

"Eeeee!! I'm an owner! I'm an owner!!" she squealed, her joy knowing no boundaries. If she could be sunshine incarnate, she believed the Magic Box would be radiating fit to drown out the cloudy day. She rushed for the phone. There was no answer at Willow's so she tried the vampire's cell phone.

"Thank you, thank you," Anya gushed. "I will do my absolute best for you, for the shop, and for myself. I am so happy."

"I am," Anya declared. "Like sunshine! I think I'll color my hair a lighter blonde tonight! Wee!"

Willow laughed. After a few more words, Anya happily replaced the phone receiver in its cradle. She did not notice her new business partner and co-owner of the Magic Box, standing discreetly to the side of the store front window, peeking in.

Willow pulled away from the window and giggled. It had been worth it to watch Anya dance around her store. The vampire could mock herself for being a bringer of happiness rather than the usual pain and suffering expected of her, but she will do that later. She was going to kill a werewolf in typical cold blood sometime in the week anyway, so she hadn't entirely turned into a poof. Funny, that only a week ago, Kitten's happiness was all that concerned her, and before that, it had really been only about her own happiness. The happy buck stops here, Willow growled to herself. Delia and Anya, she could do this for, but that would be it. Her vampire nature was not going to be able to take much more of this. At this rate she was going to have to kill quite a few things to balance her demon self out.

Willow adjusted her umbrella and walked away from the shop. Her demon knew to be patient, however. The return from such investment? One Sparkle, one Sunshine, and of course, her constant Sun. Willow smiled as she strolled down Sunnydale's Main Street on an overcast day. It was good to keep women. Give them what they need, she reminded herself, hearing the voice of that elder count, and they can give so much back.

On the outskirts of Sunnydale, at its local UC campus, Tara was also taking a walk, from one of her classes to her dorm building. She found, when she reached her dorm room, an envelope taped securely to the door's surface. She took it down, unlocked her door, and stepped inside. Glancing at the bold, curvy handwriting addressed to her gave no clue as to who the envelope was from. It was not Willow's own neat, precise hand, nor Anya's pretty, feminine writing. Opening the envelope, Tara smiled at the contents, realizing it was from Cordelia.

She removed the 4x6 photos, carefully shuffling through the colorful memories of moments captured only four months before. Beautiful, happy faces, of young people oblivious to their own mortality and so naively brave in the face of the Slayer's purpose. She pulled out one that caught her eye, of an innocent faced, mischievous eyed girl smiling with such trust and humor into the camera. Tara went to curl in her armchair by the window sill, wanting the sun, which had finally broken through the day's gray clouds, to witness this treasure she held in her hands too. Her fingers traced the familiar, sweet features. So human. So good.

"Are you who I see inside her?" Tara whispered to the girl long gone. She smiled softly. "Are you what shines that precious light in her black and red?" The slender girl in the picture quirked her gentle grin. Tara's eyes, warm with delight, studied the dear face. It was like saying hello to something she had seen all along, but knew would never have its chance to speak.

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The Master Willow Series:
Master Willow

by psimetis

Copyright © 2004

psimetis@hotmail.com

The Master Willow Series: Master Willow

by psimetis

Copyright © 2004

psimetis@hotmail.com

The Master Willow Series:
Master Willow