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 FIVE: WILLOW'S WOMEN
(Where There's A Slayer, And The Fierce Girls Live At Night)

Tara stepped down from where she had secured the last of Anya's suitcases to the top of the hummer. The early morning light cast long, blueish shadows in the alley behind the Magic Box and the crisp air seemed subdued, as if waiting for expectations to be realized. For the moment, it felt like she and Anya were the only ones awake and moving about in Sunnydale's silent downtown area. Anya quickly emerged from the back door of her store pushing her hand cart with its load of three boxes.

"Is that the last of them?" Tara asked, moving to help her friend place the boxes in the back of her vehicle.

"Yes! We can actually do this in one trip!" Anya announced with a little jump of delight as Tara lifted the now emptied hand cart and placed it in the back of the hummer as well. She shut the hatch with finality. Anya locked up the back door of the Magic Box.

"Shall we, Miss Emerson?" Tara announced playfully with an offer of her arm. Anya accepted it for the very brief escort to the front passenger side of the vehicle and Tara helped her into the seat.

"Oh, this feels like an occasion – isn't this a special occasion? This must be considered one of those 'life steps' occasions, which I saw discussed on Oprah," Anya exclaimed, as Tara started up her vehicle and maneuvered it out of the alleyway.

As always, when it came to the subject of her family, Tara nearly fell to her customary silence, but she recognized the significance of what her exuberant friend was innocently asking her.

"Oh! Stop here!" Anya requested, pointing at the bakery. "This occasion calls for baked goods with custard and berry fillings!"

Fifteen minutes later, the warm, fresh aroma from two white bags sitting on Anya's lap, scented the car interior. Tara negotiated the brief morning traffic for the older, genteel section that lay spread on the low hills of Sunnydale. Large, old trees came into view as Tara's H2 crested a meandering road, and closely clustered, modest homes gave way to ivy covered estate walls with large gates and deep driveways. Concrete sidewalks disappeared and informal, road side paths replaced the usual, city grid pattern. Anya pointed at a large, Spanish style home.

"Yes," Tara affirmed. "Chase mansion is not that far. We can walk over to each other's house."

Tara honked the horn to acknowledge the brunette, jogging easily along the side of the road. Cordy waved as the blonde witch pulled her humvee into the driveway leading up to the front of Chase mansion.

"It's unlike Willow's," Anya observed, once Tara shut off the engine and the former demon had disembarked. She stood looking up at the house with its white, columned front and understated elegance. "This is imitation Italian villa. Not like Tuscany, but I like it."

"Good!" Cordy exhaled when she had caught up to where Tara and Anya stood on her driveway. The brunette in the tank top and matching running pants came to a stop, glowing with the energy of her recent exercise. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and there was the thin sheen of sweat on her richly toned skin. Cordy pushed her head phones further off her ears. "If we're going to be roommates, you better like something about my house. Hey!" she exclaimed, giving Anya's hair a once over. "Love the new color! And those highlights!"

Anya beamed and fluffed her newly lightened and blonde hair. "I brought pastries. With filling," she offered, holding up her white bakery bags. Cordelia's face lit up and she took one of the bags to peek at the tasty contents.

"I'm liking my roomie already! DENNIS!" she yelled – which was perhaps unnecessary, as the front doors immediately opened at her call. "Dennis is my ghost," Cordy explained to Anya. "Let me show you your choice of rooms, and then we can help him move your stuff. Tara, let Dennis do the work, okay?" the former cheerleader called over her shoulder as she followed an eager Anya into the house. Despite Cordy's urging, Tara decided to wrestle the hand cart out of the back of her car.

"Oh, thank you," Tara said gratefully, as she felt the hand cart pulled effortlessly out of her grasp and placed right side up upon the gravel of the driveway by an intangible Dennis. Boxes began to move through the air of their own accord, stacking neatly on to the waiting cart. Tara felt her phone vibrate in her coat pocket.

"How's my Kitten," Tara heard murmured sleepily when she answered her phone. The young woman stepped further away from the back of her car, giving Dennis more room to do his work. A rush of warmth infused the blonde witch at hearing Willow's voice.

"Are all my girls there?" she heard Willow ask. Tara bit back a smile, even though her vampire wasn't there to see it. Just from her own experience, and of course reinforced by the evidence given in Watcher books, she knew how possessive master vampires could be.

"Yes, all here," Tara gave. "As soon as Anya's moved in, I'm driving her back for her day at the Magic Box. Then Cordelia will pick her up at the end of the day so she can be here for when Harmony comes tonight."

"Good," Willow got out before she yawned – loudly. "And then you go back to school – all night," the vampire added. "I hate Wednesdays, Kitten."

"I know," Tara said softly, one of her fingers moving along the surface of her humvee's door. Unconsciously, she drew a heart, with a 'W', and a 'T'. "I'll miss – "

"Tara!" she heard Anya suddenly squeal behind her. "I have a real bed! And closet space! And – is that Willow?" Anya grabbed the phone. "Willow, I have a tub," she announced reverently, as if she'd discovered something actually more precious than money. Cordy then plucked the phone out of Anya's hand.

"I'm going to introduce her to her first bubble bath," the brunette added into the phone with a deceptively sweet tone. "Maybe you can bring her your rubber ducky, Willow."

Anya gazed curiously and Tara only blushed several shades of red at the former cheerleader's sarcastic suggestion. More accurately, her vampire had a rubber devil ducky, and the young woman had already been personally introduced to what devil ducky, in naughty Willow's hands, liked to do underwater to bathing blonde witches.

"Oh, Delia, you cock tease," Willow murmured, not realizing that Anya had now pressed her own ear to Cordelia's phone ear in order to catch what the vampire might be saying. "What's a 'cock tease'?" Willow heard Anya's distant voice ask. If Kitten wasn't blushing before at Delia's unknowingly loaded rubber ducky remark, her girl should be by now, Willow grinned to herself broadly.

She yawned again, listening to Delia and Anya argue over the phone, and luxuriously stretched her nude body in her bed. No Kitten here with her today, but interestingly enough, Willow was still in the company of women, even if just their voices, and she was enjoying it immensely.

One of the perks, she thought sleepily, of having such formidable young females by her side. Sunnydale was now hers to easily manage, and the Slayer will waste her attention trying to get past the humans in her Family to touch her. She finally heard Kitten calmly ask for her phone back. Lucky, lucky Willow, thought the vampire, smugly.

Sunnydale High was not a wheelchair friendly school, Buffy had learned rather depressingly. Mom had definitely been peeved at the discovery, and had ranted about how she was certain that such neglect of adapting public grounds to access was against state law. However, a mother's righteous anger and phone calls to the mayor's office didn't exactly motivate a school to instantly erect ramps and install elevators for one handicapped (temporarily, Buffy reminded herself) student on wheels. So while Giles and even Miss Calendar redirected mom's energies instead to the Summers home improvements, giving their assurances that they would help her eldest daughter graduate, Buffy contented herself with wheeling around in the school library and tackling her studying there.

She let her head fall back to stare up at the skylight, with its brief indication of sunlight, blue, and clouds. She hated this wheelchair; it was ugly, awkward, and big, making her look like Tiny Tim sitting in a – well, a stupid wheelchair. Mom had a really cool chair special ordered for her – the 'Hammer', something especially designed for hockey and rugby players. Buffy couldn't wait until the company who made them finished her chair so that she and mom could pick it up. Even Ken' looked at the catalogue and gave her approval.

Buffy smiled briefly up at the skylight. Having Kendra at the house was a total blessing to her sanity. Mom fussed until Buffy felt stifled; Dawn didn't know what to do with her newly crippled sister, and alternated between being awkwardly solicitous and then avoidy. But Ken' looked at Buffy like she was just a sister Slayer who happened to have no legs for the moment. Ken' carried Buffy up and down the stairs in the mornings and evenings. Ken' totally agreed that the rent-a-chair was butt ugly and needed to be tossed in front of an oncoming truck. Ken' took Buffy to the park so that they could harden stakes in the fire pit. There, they traded kill stories and fight techniques without mom around, looking worried, or Dawn listening in with either disgust or morbid fascination. If anything good came of Buffy being dead briefly, it was definitely the Calling of Kendra. The younger Slayer was someone Buffy could privately give up the mantle of Slayer leader for, and just lean on.

Buffy idly wheeled herself backwards around and around one of the research tables. The thought had occurred to her that the one she should be leaning on was her sometimes, sort of boyfriend, Angel. He had definitely been there those long hospital nights when she couldn't sleep, reading to her, or just talking. But since her return home, Angel had hardly been around, and Buffy knew it was because mom didn't really tolerate him. Even Dawn didn't like Angel very much, and Buffy couldn't figure out why, since her sister was just at that precipice of teenhood where anything cute and male made her squeal. Ken' only had one thing to say when Buffy wanted to know what her opinion of her Angel 'relationship' was.

"You like dem sad dogs, mon," the Jamaican Slayer had concluded, with a slow shake of her head, that also implied that she considered Buffy utterly doomed. Buffy had to disagree, she wasn't entirely doomed. Well, okay, like Wills had once pointed out, immortal guy? Children? Him always being beautiful, Buffy growing old? Great, not helping. New thoughts!

The petite blonde in her ugly, hospital issued chair rolled slowly backwards from one end of the library to the other. The chair was only capable of a certain amount of maneuverability, and Buffy learned the hard way of its limits when she had tipped herself over and hit the floor. Twice. She worked the sleepy wheels beneath her hands, forcing them, coaxing them. She wanted to make figure eights with her resisting wheels, sharp turns – do a back cut and slice elegant, knife edges into the library wood flooring like blades upon ice. She wanted to launch herself from the rigid seat and make the slick moves through air; crouch upon headstones and then hurtle, like Kendra now did, every night, and land sure footed, engaging in the dance of death. She wanted to feel her entire body sing.

"Buffy," she suddenly heard Giles say, as he emerged from his office. He looked thoughtfully at her, one of his eyeglass handles pressed to his lips. "How are your studies coming along?"

"Oh," the small blonde remarked, as she wheeled herself back to the research table where her open school books lay. First day back, on a Wednesday, and already she was goofing off. She could almost hear her Wills say something funny about that. She ignored the pang of her heart. "Oh, well, it's coming! Eventually, and I wish I hadn't just said that – like that. I'll start reading, right now." She flipped open her chem book and began reading it. Upside down.

"Well...good. Perhaps, perhaps we should see about getting you a tutor to help as well," Giles suggested. He stood briefly in the doorway of his office. "Well then. I-I'll be over here, should you need anything."

"Okie doke," Buffy agreed. She stared at her book until she heard Giles settle back down at his desk. She slowly put the text book down. She wondered if it had occurred to her Watcher that it was Willow who had been her tutor, her constant, supportive, study buddy. Her only help. Buffy let go of her book before she accidentally tore it in half.

The school bell rang, indicating a period at an end and the change of classes. Buffy could easily hear the voices and movements of able bodied students traveling to their next class. The sudden recollections of her own Wills and Xand came, unbidden. She imagined them once more wandering and chatting among those who walked so freely outside the library doors; safe, alive, happy. Buffy slowly sent her wheelchair rolling back until it hit that corner table she knew so well, the one that held the computer terminal where her best friend would always sit before, the screen humming blue and bright upon her eager, helpful face. Whenever Buffy laid her head against the side of the machine, she could still breath the slightest, faintest, residue whiff of her dear friend...

The Slayer abruptly sat back up in her chair. She rolled forward for the research table where her books lay. She had a job she could help with and she would do what she could – failure was behind her, there was only now. She reached over her school books for the knife and unfinished stake she had been working on. Ken' was going to come by at the end of the school day and help push her back home. Buffy would have a few new stakes ready for her sister Slayer by then.

"You ready?" Cordy asked, looking back at Anya. It was dusk, and they stood in the foyer of her house. The ex-demon nodded and held up the large battery by its handle. Cordy glanced a third time to where she had laid the Remington M870 shotgun shorty strategically on mom's antique console.

She had already assured Anya that she, the former May queen, did indeed know how to use the covert gift from Gunn. Color Cordy surprised when she opened the door yesterday to one of Gunn's boys, who presented her with the – obviously – illegally obtained firearm. That, and a box of shells. The gun brought back memories of a frightening night in LA. She had witnessed Gunn using the shorty to blow off the head of a ten foot tall demon – a splatter event which resulted in Cordelia promptly tossing up her fast food tacos in a back alley. That same dark night, she emphatically demanded of her street warrior friend: "Teach me how to use that sucker."

However, this night, instead of her new pump action shorty, Cordy was holding a very sinister, long handled gift from Willow, concealed flush against her leg – in the manner that Gunn had taught her to do.

"Yo, Barbie," Gunn had demonstrated one night, completely hiding the full sized shotgun he held within the silhouette of his nonchalant stance. "Now you see it. Now you don't."

"Hide that behind your back," Cordy said, indicating the battery to Anya. "Until I ask for it, okay?"

The ex-demon nodded, and did as she was told. "Think of rottweillers!" Anya encouraged, with a 'go get 'em!' fist action.

"Whatever brings out your alpha female," Anya remarked. "Which you're definitely going to show them."

Cordelia smiled at that, and then the doorbell rang. With one more calming breath and last look at Anya, Cordy moved to open the door.

"Well if it isn't the Big Bitch herself," Harmony instantly greeted sarcastically, as she stood off the lit porch with what looked like an impressive group of large, intense looking guys.

"Harmony, my number one sheep," Cordy said brightly. "Still flocking, I see? The slut Harley look must be in for the fall. You certainly got it down, right to the dark roots." She stepped easily from the safety of her doorway out upon the porch. She could practically hear the subvocal growl that ran through the vampires before her. That's right boys, the former cheerleader thought forcefully to herself. Cordy's going to show you who's Mistress of this house.

"So here you are alive, and living in my new house, Cordy," Harmony shot off. "What'll you think of little wooly baa-baa me when I bite your throat?" At that, a couple of malicious, deep chuckles sounded from the blonde vampire's gang. Cordelia just graced Harm with one of her most disinterested, 'excuse me, but which amoeba species are you?' Chase looks.

"I'll be thinking, you need this," Cordy merely said, and she elegantly whipped up the long handled cattle prod from where it had lain hidden against her leg and gave the blonde vampire a sizzling tap.

"YEERGH FUC – " Harm spazzed, and immediately collapsed at the foot of the porch. Some of her boys immediately moved for their spasming sire. Cordy held up her still sparking weapon warningly.

"Ah ah," she cautioned, motioning with the cattle prod. "Did I say any of you could move? Did I?" She watched, secretly pleased – and relieved – as the vampires slowly backed off. Adrenaline was pumping through her, and she could feel her power. Tara was right, think of vampires as dobermans – they were definitely recognizing who was head bitch directly over Harm, right now.

"Like your Master, Willow, told you," Cordelia then continued, as she strutted slowly across the length of the porch, showing off her height in the three inch Manolo Blahniks Anya had earlier applauded and her athletic figure in the sleek black pants suit she now modeled. She had asked Tara this morning what Harmony looked like now in order to out 'power' dress her former Cordette. The diamond accents, hands down, were sure to impress Harm's dumb vamps. "I'm Cordelia Chase, I own this house, and whatever vampires live in it, I own their butt. Number One Rule in Cordelia's house: I RULE. Understand?" she emphasized, raising her cattle prod like a deadly scepter at the staring vamps. Either they were so smitten by the authoritative figure she was cutting, Cordy mused, or they were actually still looking at her as dinner. No one answered her. Cordy tried a different tactic, never breaking her gaze with the vamp sheep.

"I'll say this so you can understand," she said slowly, her prod traveling to take each vampire face in. "Cordelia. Rules. Harmony. Understand?"

"Yeah," she managed to eject, although obviously still recovering from her electrical shock. "Queen C – Rules – Harm. Got it?!" the blonde vampire spat out to her minions.

There was a loud chorus of various affirmations from the vampires and they fell on their knees before Cordelia. Cordy finally lowered her cattle prod.

"Good," she said. "Harm, get up off your butt and make the rules clear to your minions."

"Fuck you," Harm said automatically, but she struggled to her feet – with some difficulty. She glared at her kids. "Cordelia is Mistress of this house. Her word is law over us and over me. You will regard her like you do the Master. Got it?!"

"Oh," Cordy said. She moved to reveal Anya, who stood smiling. "This is Anya." Anya gave a little wave. "She's also Mistress of this house. Her power is equal to mine, understand?"

Harm gave a couple of her minions a swift kick to get them to respond more enthusiastically.

"Great," Cordy finally smiled. "Let's get this show on the road." She looked at Harmony, who took a formal pose, hands behind her back. "Harmony, I invite you in," Cordelia bestowed.

"Thanks Cordy. Troy!! Go greet your new mistress!" Harm barked at one of her minions. One of the young men – a real looker, and nice dresser, Cordelia assessed – got up and walked hesitantly towards where the brunette stood on the porch.

"Troy," Cordelia greeted. "I invite you in." And the ex-cheerleader gave the vampire a swift touch of the cattle prod.

ZZZZT everyone heard, and watched Troy collapse at the brunette's feet. Cordelia just gazed with keen interest down at the convulsing young man, while Harmony pushed her boot sole roughly into Troy's firm – although at the moment, jerky – butt.

"Crawl in!" she ordered, and with a huge amount of difficulty, Troy painfully pulled his shaking body up the steps for the parted doors. "KEN," Harm then indicated, with a flick of her hand. The young man named Ken approached the porch a little fearfully. Cordelia smiled.

After Cordy gave Ken his formal invitation, the poor, spasming vampire slowly crawling after his brother up the steps, the brunette then turned discreetly to Anya. The ex-demon quickly offered the battery and helped to hook the wire extensions of Cordy's prod up. When the Queen turned back to the rest of the vampires waiting to be invited, she was fully charged and ready for them.

"Next?" she asked brightly. Harm barked, and a big boy named Barry warily approached the porch.

This morning, Tara had handed Cordelia a long, mysterious looking package from Willow, which, the brunette soon found out, contained the evil looking cattle prod and its battery. She had read Willow's precisely written note explaining the gift along with a curious Anya and Tara:

That was when the blonde witch had made the comment about dobermans. And Tara was right, thank God, Cordelia thought to herself, as she gave the next big, ripped guy after Barry a good sized shock from her new weapon. Vampires were like vicious dogs and needed to be shown who was boss. As Anya had remarked earlier, the occasion did call for equally vicious reinforcement tactics. Cordy definitely had no problem with teaching Harm and her gang who was queen here, and it was especially gratifying to Cordy, the former vamp magnet, that these creatures could fall so easily to something as simple as a super shock stick. However, it was when Cordy finally reached the last member of Harm's vamp gang that the whole doberman theory had to be given a big pause in the ex-cheerleader's surprised mind.

"This is my girl Elise," she heard Harm announce, as the slim, large eyed girl stood visibly trembling before Queen C.

"Elise, I invite you in," Cordelia said automatically, but her hand with the prod, as she stared at the girl, did not rise to touch the vampire. Cordy felt Anya's warm hand cover her own.

"Allow me," she heard the ex-demon offer quietly, and her arm was raised in Anya's firm grip. There was the familiar ZZZT, with its electric scent, and suddenly the large eyed girl collapsed without a sound at her feet.

"Elise! Move your skinny ass!" Harm snapped, giving the girl a shove with her boot. "Join your brothers inside!"

Cordelia could not even look down, as she heard the little girl called Elise practically sob her way up the steps and finally into the house. Cordy felt Anya step away, but the ex-demon continued to stand supportively behind her even as Cordelia slowly raised the cattle prod and pointed it at Harm.

"I'm going to kill you," Cordelia merely said. Vaguely, Cordy realized that she was not bothering to throw a Queen fit, not even a Chase size one. The fact that Harmony had Turned someone who looked practically like little Willow had given Cordelia a sudden, rare moment of utter clarity of purpose. It was completely irrational, coming to the defense of the memory of a sweet, nerdy girl both she and Harm had tormented in the past, but what Cordy was feeling right then felt like pure truth: She simply wanted to kill Harm.

"No you're not," the blonde vampire replied. Cordy's former high school friend cocked her blonde head, staring with that unreadable expression vampires seemed to get; a stare devoid of emotion. "She's not one of mine. I adopted her."

Harmony gave a short laugh, and for a moment, Cordy caught a glimpse of her old, bubble headed, blonde friend. Queen C gave her prod an irritated wave.

"I'm glad you're staying for dinner," Buffy said warmly, as she raised the wood javelin to her shoulder. A look of focused, Slayer concentration fell upon her face, and with a powerful exhale from her tiny body, she heaved the pole towards her target. With a thudding vibration, the pole struck home, skewering the thick, wood dummy board. Kendra jogged to the large target with its crudely outlined humanoid figure and grasped the javelin. It took the Jamaican Slayer two hard pulls to get the weapon out of the thick wood. Buffy grinned triumphantly as Kendra jogged back to where the blonde Slayer sat in her wheelchair in the Summers backyard.

The dim back porch light did not illuminate much in the evening dark, but with their nocturnal sight, the Slayers could easily continue with their informal training activities. Actually, with Ken', despite the other girl's taciturn, disciplinary ways, Buffy didn't feel so much like she was training, but more like she was having some kind of...warrior fun. Which was weird, because usually she would be the one who would want an escapist girls' night-in, doing nails, hair, and watching movies, hoping to forget the Slayer burden. That kind of fun had been spent with her Wills, Buffy realized.

"Oz and Larry volunteered for early patrol," Kendra informed, as she set the javelin aside. She picked up a short handled ax and handed it to Buffy. "And Angel will take de rest of the night. We can go to de park later, mon."

"Cool," Buffy grinned. "Would, um, would," she hesitantly asked. Kendra only looked at her cooly, her arched brow and dark eyes giving nothing away, but Buffy had learned that was just the other girl's steely way. Beneath the tough exterior, Ken' was surprisingly approachable. For one thing, the Jamaican had finally decided to loosen up, at least in the Summers house, and to allow herself to speak more informally. Buffy was happy to be referred to as 'mon'. That meant they were buds – like when Wills had called her 'Buff'.

"Yah mon, he'll stop by later when we go to de park," Kendra allowed. Buffy smiled happily at her friend, then turned her attention to the large target once again. She slowly raised the ax with both hands above, then behind her head, glaring with concentration.

"Girls!! Dinner!" Joyce's muffled voice called from inside the house, knowing that the Slayers, with their preternatural hearing, would easily catch what she said.

The target vibrated, but managed to remain standing despite the force of the blow. Buffy had hit the 'head' outline square, the ax buried deep where a face would be. Ken' worked the handle a bit until she could yank it out.

"Thanks, but this chair sucks. It totally shakes when I do stuff," the blonde Slayer complained. "I'm probably losing screws as I speak. And no, I don't mean the ones in my head," Buffy added jokingly. The Jamaican Slayer only raised a sharp eyebrow. If there was one thing Buffy keenly missed, it was the easy humor she had shared with her Xan and Will. At least they laughed at her lame jokes, Buffy privately pouted. Kendra grabbed the chair's back handles and proceeded to push Buffy through the grass of the yard for the back porch.

"You get your new wheels, we can go patrolling, mon," Kendra then said. "Anyt'ing dat can take de rugby ball and stay upright is irie, mon." Buffy felt a sudden, shy joy at the Jamaican Slayer's matter of fact offer to let the blonde patrol with her. She wondered if this was how Dawn felt when Buffy would offer big sister time.

"Irie," Kendra corrected, actually leaning in playfully as she pushed Buffy up the porch access.

*CLACK*went Cordy's stiletto heel when it hit the third stair. The tall brunette turned and faced her vampire throng.

Cordelia decided, while standing imperiously upon the staircase in her family home's reception area, her pump action shorty resting against a padded, black clad shoulder, that vampires, like the high school sheep she had known, definitely needed a reinforcement of who. Was. THE. Boss, Of the Chase house. The first thing she had sensed once verbally laying down Cordy Law Number One: No Killing Humans, here or in Sunnydale – was the undercurrent, near rumbling growl of dissent from the surprised and displeased vampire faces before her. Thus it was required that Cordelia Chase continue to stand before her new vampire house guests, shotgun in hand, and give all within range the patented Chase 'You Are Such The Loser Equivalent of Gum Beneath My Shoe' glare.

"Well it looks like some all night instruction is in order," she finally announced, after giving every pair of yellowed eyes a measured challenge from her own unwavering baby browns. "Harmony will indoctrinate you into Cordy Law Number One. If any one of you breaks it, I kick the entire bloodsucking bunch of you out. It's as simple as that. And what your Master will think of your failure? Your problem. So get your minion brains to put a bite on that while you're choosing your beds, okay? Night, kids!"

Cordy merely stood where she was after her little speech, and at a bark from Harmony to move it! The minions finally did, shuffling across the marbled floor for the first level's rooms assigned to them. As soon as the last vampire had disappeared, Cordy turned to Anya, who was holding the cattle prod and battery. The brunette gave an indication with her head for the slight figured blonde to follow her up the stairs.

"Ooooh god!" she exclaimed, quickly fingering the straps of her Manolo Blahniks off her heels. She checked the safety on her shotgun and went over to her bed, carefully beginning the painstaking process of unloading it. As Cordy removed and dropped about eight shotgun shells onto her bed cover, Anya placed the cattle prod and battery aside. She watched the ex-cheerleader finish with the unloading of her lethal weapon.

"One for each of them," the ex-demon remarked, as she counted the shells. "Including Harmony. Were you really prepared to use them?"

"If I had to?" Cordy answered, laying the now emptied shorty at the foot of her bed. She bent to gather up the loose shells but Dennis beat her to it, softly pushing the ammo along and loading them into the box he floated over. Cordy smiled at her ghost briefly. "Let's just say that if push came to shove? I wanted to shove back, hard – even if it did mean accidentally blasting a few holes in the walls."

"Thank you," the brunette was surprised to hear Anya say. "You would have defended us both. Willow would have never made you do this if there was even a possibility that we could be hurt, but." And the ex-demon shrugged. "Vampires that are minions can be so unpredictable. Tara did get attacked once. And I'm certain two of them down there are newly risen. You could see it, in the eyes." She pointed two fingers at her own, in emphasis. "Hungry."

"Yeah, the jar head and the cute Asian guy," Cordy agreed pensively, flopping back on her bed as she unbuttoned her suit jacket front. "I made sure to shock them double for the 'hungry' look." She frowned. "What's this about Tara getting attacked? Is that why Willow doesn't keep minions in her own house?"

"Well – " Anya began, ready to launch into her personal opinion of Willow's elitist vampire behavior – as was sometimes the case with snobby master vampires who could care less about their own lesser kinder – when Cordelia abruptly sat up.

"Is there even a chance that Willow can be wrong, then?" Cordy exclaimed, indignation warring with some shock. "If Harm's little all night lesson doesn't work, am I all that stands between us and them?"

While the ex-cheerleader was considering the ex-demon's question, the ex-Cordette was putting her fist into one of her kids' faces. Hard. Ken stared back at Harm, amazed, as blood ran from his nose.

"It's obvious I've been soft on you guys," Harm spat out, now stalking around her kids in one of the larger, Chase mansion lower rooms. "Ken, you know better than to say even One. Word. Of disrespect to someone Master names Mistress – even one who is human – " and Harm smacked Ken upside the head. "And orders a 'No Kill'! Even minions weaker than you know not to do that!" She smacked him another hard one up the other side of his head.

"But," she heard Barry say hesitantly. As Harm whirred on him, he covered his head in reflex. "Mom!" he got out quickly. "We do kill! We don't get it!"

"We eat humans, but we don't have to kill them," Harm elaborated. Her kids stared back blankly. "There are ways, and I can show you how. What we can kill, are other demons, just like when we wiped those nests out. But you know what? I'm through talking." Harm then turned to the table she had seen the large, taped up cardboard box upon previously. She pulled the note off and read it quickly. Yep, from Wills, she thought grimly to herself. Her kids will now be introduced to another Aurelius disciplining technique Harm never really had the equipment to teach them. Well, now, thanks to their Master, she did. She tore the box open. As her kids watched, she began to lay out ominous, black cases. When she popped the metal latches open on one of the cases, it revealed an electrical unit with various dials. Wire was neatly coiled within the box, and snugly placed within the box's lid were device attachments with sinister...intrusive, shaped ends.

"CHEN," Harm snapped, without looking behind her as she set more of the devices down. Wayne Chen was her latest lower fledge – an actual medical doctor, personally hand picked by Willow. Out of all her minions, Wayne was the most educated, and being a doc, could easily guess what the devices were for.

"I didn't say you could talk," Harm added warningly, finally turning around to stare her new kid down. Fuck, breaking in new minions was such a pain in the ass, she thought crossly to herself. No wonder Wills didn't bother making her own.

"Now each of you," Harm continued, crossing her arms and regarding each of her wary kids. "Are going to go to the room and bed you picked. You will get prepared, got it? That means you get naked, and kneeling, at the foot of your chosen bed," Harm elaborated for her newer minions. She gave Wayne, and then Chuck, her new beefstick Marine guy, the 'Don't Fuck With Me' stare. "Tonight, I am going to learn you Every, Rule, in this fucking House."

Five minutes later, Harm poked her head into Cordy's room after making sure each of her kids had gone to their new rooms. Queen C was apparently loading even more ammo into her shotgun and the magic store owner was sitting on the bed as well and helping.

"What, trouble?" Cordy asked, rising from where she sat with one leg bent on her bed. Harm had a weird deja vu moment, seeing her old friend get up in that way of hers. Weird, because Cordy never had a gun in her hands when she was doing just that.

"No prob's," Harm reassured. "I just unpacked Wills' electro play shit, and I kinda need assist applying them to seven minions."

She got an 'Eww, are you really asking me?' look from Queen C, but a firm nod of understanding from the store owner, surprisingly.

"Can Dennis help her with – whatever?" Cordy then asked the other girl – 'Anya', Harm reminded herself. The other chick's name was Anya.

"Yes," Anya agreed. She turned to Harmony. "Dennis is Cordelia's ghost," she explained. "I'm sure once you demonstrate how the devices are applied on one of your minions, he can do the rest of them while you give your reinforcement lesson." The slim, young woman then smiled at Harmony brightly.

"Okaaay," Harm acknowledged slowly. "Thanks. So...where's this Dennis?" The blonde vampire wasn't sure if she liked the idea of a ghost in the house. It wasn't like she could bite one in self-defense, could she?

"Dennis is invisible, and can't talk. He's more like a poltergeist," Cordy supplied, returning her attention to loading her gun with more ammo. Her dark brown hair suddenly fluttered, like a breeze had blown in the room – except only around Harm's former best friend. Harm felt a strange cold, which surprised her, and she involuntarily stiffened, senses reaching out. Cordy only smiled at the air.

"Yeah, that's Dennis," Cordy continued, and then Harm felt a shove on her shoulder. Alarmed, she raised her fists, looking about her. "I don't think he likes you vampires much," Cordy then remarked.

"Whatever," Harm bit out, directing her ire vaguely to the air before her. She returned her attention to the two human girls in the room. "Okay, but later? After I set up the 'lesson', I actually have to leave and go see Wills, and I won't be back until maybe sunrise. So I need someone to go in every hour or so and maintain the reinforcement of the lessons."

Again, she got the look from Cordy – which was more her usual 'You Gotta Be Kidding Me' Chase look – and yet another knowing nod from the Anya chick.

"Great. But you do get what I'm asking, right?" Harm actually had no doubt. Unless Anya was totally delusional, she seemed to uncannily follow what the blonde vampire had been saying. Anya nodded again. "Okay. Cool. But I kinda have another question. You don't look any older than Cordy, but you know this shit. Am I missing something?"

"Yeah," Miss Bitch C affirmed, finally laying her gun aside. "Anya's actually eleven hundred years old."

"Eleven hundred and twenty," the slim girl corrected, with a proud smile. "Former vengeance demon," Anya then supplied, looking at the blonde vampire. "Just a human girl now."

"Really," Harm commented slowly. When Cordy dropped her bomb about Anya's actual age, the vampire had immediately reached out with her childe senses to get a read on the power signature such a huge number of years would imply, but had gotten nothing demon off the store owner. Tara a witch, a ghost in the house, and now this? Hey, Hellmouth, right? Harm slapped the door frame.

"Okay, I better get back down there and set things up. I'll run back up here and let you know when to take over," Harm said, directing her words to Anya. "And Cor'? When we end the lesson at sunrise, you gotta haul your Queen ass downstairs and strut your stuff to finish the lesson off. After this, my kids should be obedient, or else I'll stake 'em myself. C'mon Dennis!" And Harm moved away from the doorway.

Cordelia, surprisingly, was smiling a little. "Nice seeing you again, Harm," the brunette merely said.

Buffy's empty wheelchair squeaked slightly when the night breeze pushed it briefly. The chair remained where it was, sitting on the neighborhood sidewalk beside one of the streetside trees. Buffy, after a moment of reaching out with her preternatural hearing, relaxed, realizing that nothing human or inhuman had disturbed her chair. She returned to steadying her seated self on the front garden lawn of the house she and Ken' were visiting. Okay, more like she and Ken' were trespassing at. Buffy didn't know the owners of the house, but she had made friends with their noisy, large watchdog. It had been necessary when she went out on patrol and passed his territory. That very same dog trotted up to her, salivating and bearing a big stick in its mouth. Buffy wrestled the stick away, fell over, then tossed it. Buster went bounding. Buffy righted herself again, then looked back at Ken', who was busy with her handmade knife, carefully cutting at the ornamental orange tree that sat by the garden's side.

"Done yet?" Buffy whispered, having no idea what the Jamaican Slayer wanted with the small tree's large, long, and really deadly thorns. Ken' dropped another of the wicked looking things on a bandana handkerchief by Buffy.

"Not yet, mon," Kendra murmured back, slicing off another long thorn. Buffy put her injured finger in her mouth at the sight of one more of those things dropping into the handkerchief. Hey, she had only wanted to know if they really were as sharp as they looked, and Ken' could have warned her before she picked one up. Buffy looked up and saw that Buster had come back with his stick. The large animal stopped to drop it just out of Buffy's reach.

"WOOF WOOF WOOF," Buster spoke, tail wagging. Buffy stared back, wide eyed, and could easily hear movement in the house behind the huge dog. The petite blonde threw herself forward for the stick, then tossed it away, Buster leaping in the air to chase it. She could hear footsteps approach the house door. Kendra was already wrapping up her stuff as Buffy went to her stomach and Army style crawled – using just her elbows of course – her frantic way to some cover.

"Buster! What's up!" a male voice called out cautiously, and Buffy heard the click that signaled a floodlight was being turned on. Great, she and Ken' had to trespass on the only property in Sunnydale where the owner didn't follow the usual 'ignore what goes bump in the night' rule. Buffy only made it halfway into a set of bushes before she felt Kendra's strong hands on her shoulders. The other Slayer pulled her roughly all the way through. The two girls laid flat and still, as dead as those they hunted, until the owner of the house satisfied his curiosity that all was well in his front yard. The floodlight clicked off and the front door finally closed.

Buffy put a hand to her mouth to stifle a nervous giggle. She heard Buster snuffle noisily where her useless legs were.

"Ken', let's get out of here before Buster pees on me!" Buffy whispered harshly, then tried to suppress more of her giggles. Kendra had gone to her stomach and was making a thumb motion to her back. Buffy rolled and dragged herself onto her sister Slayer's back, her arms wrapping around her neck just as Kendra's went behind to support the blonde's butt. The Jamaican Slayer then did a 'no hands' push off the ground, forced her way through the brush, and made a dash for the garden's front gate.

"WOOF!" Buster announced happily beside the running Slayer, bounding along. "WOOF WOOF!"

Buffy heard the front gate slam behind her and then Kendra was unceremoniously dumping the small blonde into her wheelchair. Buffy heaved herself quickly up by her arms to right herself.

"WOOF!" Buster bade from his enclosed territory as Ken' sent the chair wildly rolling down into the asphalt street, the running girl pushing the chair hard enough to break a speed limit. Buffy began laughing out loud as she rattled in the stupid chair, not a car in sight as she and Kendra careened down the empty street.

"WOO," Buffy cried, lifting her arms as she flew down into the dark night. At any moment, the skinny wheels were sure to rattle off and send her crashing, but it didn't matter – right then she was flying free and Ken' was laughing, for the first time to Buffy's ears, a clear and warm sound behind the blonde and her runaway chair.

Anya looked down at her pretty, nail polished toes wrapped so nicely in Cordelia's other set of Blahniks. She was very glad she had treated herself to that pedicure yesterday, and that she and the brunette had the same shoe size. Attractive feet were necessary when entering a room where others may have their face in the floor. Anya took a breath, squared her shoulders, and entered the first room on the ground level that held two naked man-pires. She felt the ghost reassuringly puff air at the edge of her hair.

"How nice," Anya exclaimed out loud. "I like that, Dennis," she said appreciatively to the ghost. She returned her attention to the naked man-pires. They were kneeling, two feet away from the ends of their beds, wrists shackled to each bed post and hands gripping the end boards. Their knees were kept wide apart by a restraining spread bar, which also displayed to easy view where certain devices had been applied to their genitalia – and to their back entrances. Anya nodded to herself at such thoroughness. The man-pires appeared quite tense, their muscles pulled taut by their positions and by the electric current coursing through certain sensitive regions, but Anya knew she would be making them even more tense. It was, after all, about reinforcing house rules and assuring her and Cordelia's continued safety. Anya stepped to the nearest black control box and its dials, sitting upon the floor. It was a familiar sight, despite the modern cut of the box.

Anya remembered when such boxes were called 'violet ray' devices, back in the turn of the last century. Used to 'heal' humans of various illnesses, the former demon found it apt that this one time quack health treatment was now utilized as a kinky pleasure device. Anya had always suspected that the prescription of violet ray treatment for 'hysteria' in female patients was more about their doctors helpfully taking care of their patients' unfulfilled, physical needs rather than treating actual 'hysteria'. However, tonight, Anya was not present to play helpful quack doctor, but helpful vampire tormentor.

"Hello," she said brightly, addressing the two taut backs before her. "My name is Anya, and I will be your tormentor this evening." She picked up the box, then approached the man-pire the control unit was wired to. Anya made certain the bent over male could see her perfectly pedicured toes. "Let's begin with a recitation of who I am, in relationship to you."

Harmony ran along the earth and gravel path that lined Crawford Street. She was practically loping, and if she could see herself, she was certain she looked like some demented creature of the night, which, duh, she was. But that was what the night brought out in her; her own darkness emerging to greet the black sky and the risen shadows. This was the time of her pitch black domain, her hunting ground. Harm ran down Wills' driveway, practicing that technique that made her step light and almost silent upon the cement. She slipped through the kitchen entrance, and immediately felt the powerful presence of Drusilla, somewhere in the living area. Harm didn't bother to look at the elder vampire as she made for the stairs. She reached out with her senses for Will.

Master was hangin' in her entertainment room, with the huge wide screen. Harm came to a stop and calmed herself before the partially shut door. She could hear Will's soft voice, murmuring within. Harm frowned, knowing that Tara was at UC Sunnydale. There was no heartbeat in the room. The blonde vampire chanced it, and gave the door a light knock. She gently pushed the door open.

And was bowled over by the 6x4 foot, freeze framed image of a naked, chained Tara apparently in the throes of One Big Happy on the big screen. Harm tore her bugged out eyes away and latched them upon Will, who sat sprawled on the couch, a cell phone at her ear and her other hand casually fingering a remote. Harm watched Will's slender finger caress and press a button and felt the light from the big screen change. Harm couldn't help it, she glanced at the screen and its new image and immediately skittered eyes away again.

Which was a thought that really disturbed Harm, even though she knew that she was now pretty much bisexual, thanks to vampirehood. She really wanted to ask Wills why that was, sometime – the bisexuality thing. The only other female Harm had sex with since becoming a vampire – besides Will – was Elise, and that was all about her sorta 'sire' relationship with her girl kid. Noticing Tara was not healthy for her unlife – hello, Master's Pet!! Harm desperately reminded herself. However, the real fact of the matter was, that Tara-attraction squeeched her out big time. It was like wanting to boink her own human sister – if the blonde vampire ever had one. Harm shuddered. Violently.

"....do y'think you did well on the quiz?" Harm heard Willow softly ask. She watched the redhead's finger push the advance button on her remote. Click. Click. "That's good, baby. I know you'll ace that class." Harm heard the shift of body weight upon sofa leather, and raised her wide eyes to Wills' green ones glancing back at her. "Baby, I gotta go, but can you call me before you go to sleep tonight? Yes. Yes." Wills had returned her attention to the big screen and was grinning – really big. "Have fun in art class tonight. Talk to you later, Kitten." As Willow removed the phone from her ear, Harm felt the light from the big screen black out. Her boss stood her slim self up and was reaching for her leather coat.

"Ready to go huntin', Harm?" Willow invited with a smile, and Harmony promptly forgot squeechy feelings regarding Tara-nakedness and grinned eagerly back at Wills.

As they ran down the stairs for the living area, Harm was surprised when Wills invited her sire to join them. They jumped into Willow's vintage convertible, Drusilla dominating the back and Harm enjoying the honor of riding shotgun. They sped off into the night.

Just yesterday, Willow had dropped the bomb on Harm that Cordy was still alive. Before Harm could even recover from that bit of news, the redhead gave the order that placed Harmony directly under Cordy's thumb in Queen Bitch's house.

"Wanna take this outside, Harmony?" Wills had suggested softly, her green eyes so fucking cold and glittery. Harm's demon couldn't take it anymore. Even though there was still that tiny, sane part of her that knew going outside could mean her unlife, she had nodded.

She screamed about Cordy, she screamed about being a sheep, she screamed about Xander and Luke and why the fuck was Willow fucking with her and how the Fuck was she supposed to be a fucking good vampire if she couldn't Fucking Kill and then Harm really lost it and leapt, both fists flying for calm, quiet, no emotion Willow.

Beat her like a sire would beat a childe. Threw, kicked, and struck her repeatedly without once losing her temper or even throwing an insult at her. Dislocated her arm without so much as a demeaning blink. The blonde could hardly believe it – she, the disgraced, discarded childe of Xander and the butt monkey of Luke was being paid childer attention by every thoughtful hurt Wills graced her with. Harm got flung one final time, and ended up lying all bloodied up in Willow's thorny rose bushes. Her undead heart swelled against her will and she nearly cried like a wuss as she stared up at the night sky.

"Didn't go for the face, Harm," Willow had said to her, almost apologetically. "Don't want to scare Delia when you go meet her."

"I don't know how to not kill, Will," Harm had finally admitted, her throat scratchy as she stared into the night sky. Will's eyes had bored right into her, like she were mere paper – mere fucking tissue paper, so easy to scatter and tear.

"I'll teach you, Harm," Willow had finally promised, and Harmony nearly got something wet in her eyes for the second time that night.

Harmony sat back in Wills' convertible, blonde hair raging in the night wind, and watched Sunnydale pass by with cold, unreadable eyes. Drusilla was sing songing some silly something in the back seat.

"Kay say-rah, say-rah," Harmony merely said. Willster didn't reply, but Harm could practically feel her Master's smile double at the words.

The three vampires entered a popular bar right on Main Street. Drusilla sailed her insane self right in, easily insinuating her slim body and dreamy, dark, 'come hither' looks into the rather bland, but noisy, yuppie-ish crowd. Harm was surprised by the elder vampire's sudden transformation from koo koo vampire to prowlly seductress. She watched Dru laugh at some clueless guy's obviously lecherous come-on, then let her mouth gentle into a toothy, charming smile, her dark eyes never leaving the man standing before her. Mr. Clueless seemed to actually quiet before the elder vampiress' unwavering gaze, entranced. Harm felt a cold glass pressed into her hand by Willow. She looked down only for a second. Cherry coke.

"Is she using the thrall?" Harm whispered in awe to Willow, knowing that Wills could still hear her despite the noise of the bar.

"No," she heard Wills whisper in her ear. "Just what all childer seem to inherit once they Rise." She could tell Wills was smiling just from the tone of her soft voice. "Simple, sex appeal. Watch Mum now. Watch how she'll drink from him, right here, in front of everyone."

And Harm watched, covertly, as Dru led her prey over to the wall, listening to him chat. She watched as the dark haired woman feint an inability to hear her victim's words – watched as the taller man bent forward, and then stiffened in Dru's loving grasp, his body hiding the elder vampire's transformation to demon. Harm watched as Dru drank enough to weaken the man, his eyes shutting. Then the vampiress slipped away, wiping her mouth with a finger. She left her prey unconscious and still standing, propped against the wall. Even with the man's closed eyes, the pose actually appeared natural, like he were busy thinking. Harm felt the glass in her hand tilt slightly and looked down to see Willow's fingers fish the maraschino cherry from her coke.

In only a few seconds she and Wills were on the street, leaving the bar far behind. Harm couldn't see Dru anywhere.

"Wow," she finally blew from her lips, feeling that what she had witnessed definitely deserved some exhale of dead air. "That was like So. Slick."

"I don't know if, um." Harm felt suddenly self conscious. Dru was like, a hundred seventy something years old. Harm was totally freshman year compared to an elder vampire's vast experience in the art of super suave, seduction tactics. "I mean, chatting up kills just to kill 'em is one thing..."

"You'll develop your own style," Wills assured breezily, still working her mouth. "I just wanted to show you where you're headed when you become a master hunter. We'll start you with something simple that even a minion can do." Then Wills suddenly spat into the palm of her hand. She looked at whatever she had spit out, disappointment on her slender face.

"Phooey," Wills pouted. "I don't know how Kitten does it." Harm peered at her boss' hand, seeing an extremely mangled cherry stem in it.

"Oh that," Harm remarked. "I can't do that trick either, but Bitch C knows how."

"Can Delia tie a double knot?" Wills asked as she flung the offending cherry stem out into the busy night street. Harm thought she saw it hit a passing car. "Kitten can."

Harm laughed. "Wills, Chases can do anything." The blonde's tone dripped with sarcasm. "It's just that ninety nine percent of what they could do is beneath them." Willow actually chuckled along with her.

"C'mon," her boss beckoned with a smirk, suddenly crossing the street and cutting between the moving cars. "Let's find you something to bite."

Buffy reached up with her stick and coaxed the fire in the park's barbecue pit. The fresh made stakes she had whittled in the library earlier in the day were laid in a row beside where she sat in the sand, awaiting their baptism by fire. She had known of this method meant to harden her wood weapons, but never thought to just try it, in the park. When Kendra first brought Buffy out here, she had to teach the blonde Slayer how to build a fire and how to keep it going. Buffy felt like a complete tenderfoot next to her very self-sufficient, Ms. Survivalist, sister Slayer.

Ken' got herself to Sunnydale with just the clothes on her back and one stake, hitching a ride in a plane's cargo hold. When Buffy could get Kendra to talk about herself, she was graced with some pretty cool tales. The second Slayer spoke of nights spent sleeping on beaches and in tropical groves, right under the stars. She talked of fishing in the ocean, of diving out to hunt a man eater shark, of climbing the tallest palms she could find and seeing if she could survive their height when she dropped – on purpose. She talked of hunts held in tropical storms with a fierceness in her dark eyes, and of how she learned to make her own bow and arrows, spears, sling shot, and ax. Buffy, who could at least boast proudly of her ability to make mom's special fruit tart, was eager then, to find out what the heck Ken' intended with the thorns they liberated from that ornamental orange tree. Even now, as she poked the fire, Ken' was laying out the thorns and dividing them up into two piles.

"So are you going to tell me now," Buffy insisted, wishing Kendra would just look up so she could work the 'Summers pout' on her friend. Ken' just pointedly ignored her.

"You got some stakes to cook, mon," Kendra merely said. She got up, and went to crouch at the backpack she had hooked up to the back of Buffy's wheelchair. She pulled something out and then tossed two items at the blonde Slayer. Buffy caught them easily and looked at them. Perfectly sized sweet potatoes to roast in the fire.

"Cool," Buffy declared with a big grin, laying them beside the stakes. She and Kendra had eaten well at mom's, but sometimes running around in the night air got a Slayer's appetite going again.

"Irie," Buffy repeated. "Okay, what else," she demanded, clapping her hands in anticipation. Kendra's wide mouth broke into a very reluctant – and rare – grin, and the Jamaican Slayer merely hung her head and shook it.

"Awww, Ken' Ken' Ken'," Buffy pouted, putting the Summers' charm on for full effect now that she got Kendra's attention. The other girl rolled her dark eyes, but Buffy sensed her final capitulation.

"I knew it!" the blonde slayer squealed, as Kendra reached a hand into the back pack. Ken' tossed the long object to Buffy. The blonde Slayer swiped it easily from the air, and then looked at it. It was a long, wooden – bamboo, she guessed – pipe. She looked at the ends, each of which had a hole, which she assumed was continuous. Yep, a pipe.

"You want me to put this in the fire too?" Buffy asked with a frown. Ken's face broke into an even rarer big grin, and the Jamaican had to look down.

"Okay, wait....it's a flute? With no finger holes? You're going to show me how to whittle a flute."

Ken' was still looking down at the grass from where she crouched by Buffy's wheelchair. Was Kendra trying to not laugh at her??

Now Buffy could see for sure that Kendra's shoulders were shaking. If she could stamp her useless, non feeling foot, Buffy would, so she just struck the sand with her effective small fist instead.

"Ken'!!" Buffy whined. "C'mon, I'm the girl who thinks food only comes from supermarkets, okay? What is it?"

Kendra finally looked up at the small blonde sitting up by the fire, her lidded dark eyes sparkling. The Jamaican Slayer brought a fist to her mouth, lips at the hole made by her curled thumb and forefinger, and very deliberately, blew one hard breath through it. Buffy finally put two and two together. If she could, she would've hopped right where she sat. Her hands came together suddenly to fondle her cool gift.

"It's a, it's a blow gun," Buffy whispered, her hazel eyes grown big with excitement. The possibilities such a gift opened up to her made her heart beat fast. She looked down at the thorns and then at her new weapon cradled in her small hands.

"You can practice with dat pile," Ken' then indicated with her chin to the two piles of thorns. "And the other pile, I will show you how to make a poison you can dip dem in."

Kendra affirmed with a grave nod of the head, but her eyes were sparkling. "They can't die from poison, but I know one that puts dem down, freezes the limbs. You shoot, I move in – " From where she crouched, the second Slayer swept powerfully with her arm, making the staking swing. "They be dust, mon."

"Irie," Buffy whispered, looking down at her awesome new weapon. "Totally irie."

"Irie," Buffy completed, looking up with an equally fierce, familiar gleam in her eyes. "Totally irie, man."

Harm stepped back from the guy who had just passed out. He started to slide down the alley wall. Harm put him in a seated position on a convenient crate. Nope, still looked like some passed out fucker. She folded his arms. Okay, maybe now he looked like he was napping. She really was hoping for a more lively, thinking man look, though. She glanced back at where Wills was watching her. The boss was obviously laughing. Harm just rolled her eyes and shrugged, then followed Wills out of the alley way.

Her first time just skimming off a victim passerby had been kind of difficult – she was so used to sucking hard and going for that joyous, last thunder of a dying human's beating heart. Now she had to tune out that killer glee, count slowly – like Wills taught her – and come away with only a few mouthfuls and be content with that. She had never understood how 'pires who fed off bleeders did it – resisted the killer instinct – but Willow said it just took practice. Biting volunteer bleeders though, were for loser (Harm liked to call them 'chicken') type vamps who weren't into – or just weren't very good at – hunting. Real vampires knew how to master their live meals, with or without killing. Harm followed Willster as the redhead led the blonde vampire to a movie multiplex.

"What would you like to see?" Wills asked her pleasantly, as she laid a twenty down at the box office window.

"Something with alot of screams," Harm simply replied. Wills picked up two tickets and they walked into the dimly lit theater lobby that reeked of artificial popcorn butter and foot odor carpeting. Sometimes Harm hated having a vampire's sense of scent, especially when she had to travel in the sewers. That was one very good reason for not having to breathe – when she sucked in air on purpose, that was when she got a nose or mouthful. Harm ignored the different stinks and just focused on the scent of Wills as they strolled leisurely for one of the multiplex's many theaters. Her boss approached a set of shut doors.

"Now that you know how to stop yourself during the feed," Wills was telling her. "You're going to practice stealth and subtlety. Pick about three people inside, and make it as good for them, as it will be good for you," the redhead instructed softly with a smirk. Wills opened the door, and a cinematic, high pitched scream from the theater sound system hit Harm's ears.

Once inside, Willow settled herself in a backrow seat, and Harm checked out her oblivious, potential victims. She liked to go for the ones who smelled nice. Unfortunately, a horror film audience seemed to consist of snuggly couples, snuggly friend groups, and single men. Harm sighed to herself, using her nose to find one male victim who might've recently bathed, or didn't knock her over with a bad choice of cologne. She found one, and slid up in the row behind him. Stealth, Wills had said. Subtlety. Harm leaned in like she knew the guy, possibly with the intention of whispering intimately into his ear. Her hand came around and easily covered his mouth. She felt her victim stiffen in panic. Any moment now, he'll cause a scene. Words, maybe? Could that be part of the new technique? Harm only spoke to her victims in order to scare the fuck out of them. She'll try this new thing.

"Hey," she whispered, beneath the thunder of the theater sound system. "Lemme give you something you might like." She could practically scent the man's surprise at her words. Score one for Harm. She gave his neck a deliberate, long lick to get the message across. Then she went to demon face and sank her fangs in. She didn't sink them in rough and hard, which was her usual way – this time she tried for quick and sweet. Harm couldn't believe it, but the guy literally melted in her firm hold as she sucked his blood. When her prey finally passed out, Harm made sure his head was at a comfortable, upright position, and slipped away. She took an end seat in Will's row, but when her boss didn't make any indication to Harm, she remained where she was for a few minutes, mentally reviewing her first performance at seduction. Well it hadn't sucked – figuratively – but it had been kind of awkward, and somehow Drusilla had done it way faster and more efficiently. Oh well, practice made for perfect. Harm left her seat and made her way around to victim number two.

Half an hour later, Harm followed Wills out of the theater into the multiplex's hallway, three unconscious victims left behind.

"So," the blonde vampire said nervously as she glanced at her boss. "How'd I do?"

"Very good, Harm," Wills praised, and though her stare was her usual 'Master Wills' stare, Harm could sense that the redhead was genuinely pleased. "You didn't kill any of them, and I'm pretty sure they enjoyed it as much as you did."

Harm face broke into a big grin. Wills walked away and towards the theater opposite. The doors were open, the full lights were on, and only the pre-show slides were playing. Harm followed Willow in, curious as to what her boss was going to show her next. Theater patrons sat scattered, and some rose to fetch snacks. Others entered to find seats. Willow turned to Harmony with a gentle smirk.

Ohhhh fuck, Harm thought frantically, and rubbed her palms on her black jeans. Under the freakin' lights?? Talk about fucking performance anxiety!!

Half an hour later, a still nervous Harmony followed her slim, smirky boss out of the theater as previews rolled. Wills looked back at her.

"You're not much of an exhibitionist, are you, Harm," the redhead remarked cutely, her big, green eyes twinkling. Fucking perv, the blonde vampire thought sourly. It's always the quiet ones that got off on damn kink. Harm should've known though, that Wills would push the public part of the lesson quicker. Look at how she treats Tara.

"Fuck," was all Harm commented on that. Then she felt contrite about something else. "Sorry I couldn't get to the last one in time, Wills," she added self consciously. Her second victim, she had to put the bite on while previews began rolling, so she had failed one of Willow's requirements. She was thankful though, that she had picked prey who actually came to the theater alone. If a family member or friend had returned with popcorn and found her in mid-bite, she would've been so royally screwed.

"No worries, Harm," Wills assured, and actually laid a slender hand briefly on her shoulder. "It takes practice to get your meal fast and easy during a soft play. Alot harder than taking without a thought or a plan, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harm agreed slowly, going into 'pensive frown' as she followed Willow to the lobby. "Geez Will, that makes me sound like some common animal," the blonde vampire noted. Vampires were killer beasties, duh, but Harm hated to think that all this time she'd been conducting herself no better than like a dumb minion. She was a childe for christ sakes, but then well, with a stupid sire like Xander and a 'parent' like Luke...

"You were," Willster clarified. "But now you're going to be an intelligent, more sophisticated animal." Wills headed for the concessions counter.

"Wills," Harm began, remembering a question she'd always been burning to ask, but never had the right to, until probably now. She hoped. "How do you do it, spend so much time with Tara, and not want to....?"

"I uh," Harm added hesitantly. She tried to explain herself. "I wasn't in the Order that long, but I saw childer go through pets like fast food toys. Not that I'm implying you're like those childer, which you are so not – "

"You have to see them as more than food," Willow interrupted quietly. She finally acknowledged the concessions stand attendant who was waiting patiently, and tapped a slender finger for two different items beneath the glass. Her green, lidded eyes never left Harm. "The qualities you enjoy in them that are beyond merely the beat of their blood will supplant your base hunger."

"Okay," Harm said slowly. That was a sophisticated sentence to digest, so she took a moment to digest it. Willow turned her attention to laying a few bits of cash on the counter for her items. "I mean, I would, for a human like Tara. But Cordy and that Anya chick?...They're not Tara."

Willow smiled at her then, that knowing smirk that would just get to Harm and irritate the hell out of her. Although, interestingly enough, not right now. Maybe she was finally getting a handle on the 'intelligent animal' thing, Harm mused to herself. The redhead straightened from where she had leaned on the glass counter and looked at Harmony thoughtfully.

"Then you'll have only two choices to rely on when you feel bitey around Delia and Anya, Harm," Willow sighed, that smirk not quite leaving her face.

Cordy slept lightly on the den's sofa, a silk sleeved arm resting over her eyes. For the past three hours, Anya had walked into the 'minions wing' – as it was now currently dubbed by the co-mistresses of the house – and systematically taken one full hour to cover lessons for each minion. The first time Anya had done it, Cordy could not remain in her bedroom, and quietly walked barefoot down to the first level, carrying the now trusty shorty. She had paced silently in the reception area while listening to Anya's clear, matter of fact voice recite the facts and laws of Cordy's house and then had the minion currently being trained, repeat them after her.

It actually didn't phase Cordy when she heard the vamps getting painfully zapped after each of Anya's recitations. The brunette even ceased pacing and found herself unconsciously moving her body through old cheerleader routines. She had no idea why. If it was her subconscious getting her body to 'cheer' Anya on, it was pretty darn lame, so Cordy forced herself to quit the cheerleading and returned to pacing. When Anya got to the little girl vamp however, the ex-cheerleader could no longer listen in. She retreated to the kitchen, made Anya some coffee, and then waited by the staircase where she couldn't quite hear what the ex-demon had to submit the girl vamp to.

When Anya had finally emerged, she and Cordy had gone back upstairs, where the slim blonde flipped through the latest Cosmo and Cordy idly painted her toe nails a new color. Then the hour was up, and Anya returned to the 'work', and Cordelia went to wait for the ex-demon in the ground floor's den.

The familiar sound of expensive high heels striking marble immediately woke her and Cordy's arm automatically fell to where her shorty lay beside her on the den carpeting. As her fingers brushed against cool, smooth metal, Anya entered the room. The blonde girl looked tired. The ex-demon immediately went to the bar and accessed Mrs. Chase's drink of choice – Absolut. Anya poured a three-finger shot and knocked it back without a flinch. Cordy was impressed.

"Sure you wanted to do that?" the brunette asked as she lifted herself from the couch. Anya walked over, sat down in the love seat and finally toed her borrowed Blahniks off. "I thought you said the 'work' required a clear mind."

"Do you have pickled cucumbers? Or pumpernickel bread? It usually helps to take the edge off the intoxication," the blonde remarked. "As a demon, I was a big vodka drinker, but finding the tolerance level of this body has been trying. My first hangover was a horrifying experience. I think I hated Tara's cure even more."

"Russian type snack foods I can't help you with, but maybe my dad left behind a can of nuts," Cordy remarked as she made her way to the bar and behind it. "He's a big cashews fan," she added with a grin, which quickly faded when she remembered his current predicament. Cordy sobered and she made a mental note to find out if it were possible to send her dad a care package that would survive prison inspection. She found a fresh can of mixed nuts for Anya and placed them before the ex-demon. The blonde immediately fished through them and picked out all the huge, oily Brazilians.

"More for me, then," Anya commented, but the way she seemed to stare without actually looking at anything, and chew the nuts almost automatically, made Cordy slightly worried. She hardly knew Anya, but this withdrawn state did not seem typical of the ex-demon.

"Why don't you?" Cordy frowned. Since becoming very sensitive to her own experience of wishing out loud, the brunette was surprised to hear the former wish demon carelessly voice one.

"If I do, I'll allow myself to get too emotional – weak emotional. Like right now, I actually made a wish. Needing Tara makes me do things like that. But then when I talk to her, these strange feelings I have seem to resolve and I'm all right again. But I can't do that now – have 'tears' time or 'uncertainty' time. They can smell it. If I call Tara I'll break the 'mistress' impression, and it's important to maintain that impression during this all night lessons session."

Cordy suddenly sat up. "Wait a minute," she whispered. "Do you think they can still hear us? We forgot to take 'mistress' talk upstairs."

They heard a click, and when the two young women turned to the location of the sound, Cordy noticed that the entertainment center's cd player had been activated.

"When I was just a little girl, I ask my mother what will I be," Doris' clear voice sang.

"Oh great, my mom's all time favorite song," Cordy groaned. Anya only cocked her head, intrigued.

Cordelia rose to shut the music off, but Anya stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Who?" Anya asked, perplexed. She gave the song another listen. "I mean, I like this because it's appropriate. It's perky, yet resigned. It has a bright sound, but its message is depressing. It's practically Communist! If we play this song through the night it will add to the reinforcement of the lessons."

Cordy gave Anya only one look, then went to the cd player. As soon as the song ended, she pressed a few buttons to get the one song to loop.

"Okay, done," she announced, as Doris began again. When Cordy turned to look at Anya, the blonde was staring into space again. Cordelia went to sit beside her on the love seat.

"Look, I know I'm not Tara, but whatever inner angst moppet's got a hold of you, you got to spank it, already. How about just telling me what's wrong?"

"I've hurt something," Anya said simply, but she frowned as she said it, like as if she found the statement utterly foreign.

Cordy frowned as well, although as briefly as possible. "You should take a break," she finally said gently. "I'll take the next shift – "

"No," Anya interrupted. "Your personality's like Harmony's, confrontational. My approach lacks emotional attachment. It doesn't make them want to fight back, it only depresses them and makes them want to submit. You know, just to get rid of me." Anya suddenly smiled, a spark of the girl Cordy was more familiar with, returning. "I seem to bring out that reaction in people."

"Let's return to that inner angst moppet you're supposed to be spanking," Cordy advised. Anya fretted beside her.

"For a thousand years I made males suffer," the ex-demon said. "I feel nothing more about my previous life except pride and satisfaction in what I felt was good work done."

"Now, I feel the same. These are vampires. As painful as the lessons are, they are still demons who have an appreciation for pain, and respect for the one who can give it to them. But what's different now, is that I've hurt a girl."

Anya continued to stare off into space, frowning slightly as she sought her next words.

Cordy felt her stomach plummet. Even to Anya, the big eyed girl shackled up somewhere a few rooms over was not just some simple vampire. Even to Anya, whose personal experience wouldn't let her be easily deceived by human guise, the girl-pire was not just some demon to discipline without pity nor sympathy.

"That's...guilt...you're feeling," Cordy attempted nervously. She sat up, palms anxiously rubbing on her black slacks. God, Tara would be so much better at this. "It's perfectly natural to..."

"This? You mean this feeling?" Anya's slender hands fluttered. She suddenly stood up, agitated. "No! I worked it out in my imagination. If Harmony were in there turning the dial, I still hurt. If it were you doing it, I still hurt. I hurt when she hurts. Isn't guilt about fault? This isn't about fault it's – " Anya's face began to crumble and she gestured helplessly with her arms. "It's pain. It's another new pain I have to deal with just because something in me hurts when the little female vampire hurts and I can't – " Her voice finally broke. "I don't – know – how..."

Cordy stood up and quickly folded the ex-demon into her arms. Anya fell awkwardly yet willingly into them. She clung to Cordy and finally wept miserably.

"Anya," the ex-cheerleader soothed, as she hugged the blonde girl. "You're feeling compassion...empathy. You're just caring, sweetheart. It's okay to care."

"But," she heard Anya protest, her voice affected by her tears. "You never cared. You do...a little, now. I know, or else you would have touched the girl with your cattle prod without a second thought. But before, you never did. You never hurt. You'd hurt everyone else but never felt it yourself. Xander, Willow. Buffy. Over and over. You didn't feel."

Cordelia felt cold. In a daze, she woodenly removed her arms from Anya's embrace. She stepped away, turning her back on the girl who now looked at her. A girl whose voice had a hint of admiration that sickened Cordy to her very core.

"Show me how you did it," she heard Anya ask hopefully. The ex-demon sniffled. "Show me how you couldn't hurt when you hurt others. Is it a Chase secret? You had your own particular way of giving pain, so I thought perhaps it was taught in the family – "

Cordelia didn't realize it, but her hands curled into tight fists. Alarmed at the sight, Anya scrambled to place the love seat between her and the brunette who still had her back to her.

"Y-You're angry," Anya exclaimed. "I've said something again. You're very angry. And you have a gun. Please don't shoot me."

"No, I – " The anger that Cordelia had felt immediately dissipated at the fear in Anya's voice. "I'm just – OH, I'm just angry at myself, not at you, doofus!" She turned around to look at the now nervous ex-demon. "Anya, please, I – would you just get over here! I'm not going to hurt you!"

Anya jumped, and then scampered to the front of the love seat again. She kept the coffee table between herself and the brunette, however. Anya then tried to put a smile on her face. Cordelia just felt like laughing bitterly – much in the fashion of her bitter mother. Since when did Cordelia Chase, vamp bait and constant – ungrateful – damsel in distress for superhero Buffy, become such a physical threat? But perhaps in Anya's inexperienced human mind, Cordelia's ability to wield emotional harm was the same as harm given to the body. Since Cordy had no intention of indulging her inner bitter mom, she'll instead attempt to blow a hole in the new inner angst moppet that had deigned to appear.

"Anya, the Chase secret?" Cordy was not surprised by the huge stab of pain she felt, at witnessing the blonde girl's face light up. "The Chase secret is selfishness. Pure, evil, selfishness. And arrogance. The kind of arrogance that makes you pretend you don't feel hurt when you're dishing it out, or when you're taking it in. It's all just a really good act. A big, selfish, phony, mean act, Anya. You don't want that."

Cordy took a breath. She latched onto a thought. "Think of it this way," she offered, as she stepped towards the ex-demon. "Who would you rather be strong like: Tara, or me?"

Cordelia was utterly floored. She could not understand for the life of her how Anya could equate Cordelia 'Power' with Tara Power. To Cordy, who knew the depth of her own fearful selfishness and shallowness, that was like saying fake strength was as good as the real thing.

"Okay, how about this," Cordy tried again. "If you were exactly like how I was before? Would you have even been friends with Tara?"

"There, see?" Cordelia pointed out triumphantly. "Like you said. I was terrible. And stupid. I mean, wouldn't a stupid person not be able to appreciate someone like Tara? And Willow? And Xander? That just shows you how smart you are now in comparison!"

Anya beamed suddenly, completely radiant. She even had the audacity in her new happiness to look a little smug.

"Good!" Cordy agreed with a nod. "It's only meant for us terrible Chases anyway."

"Ten more minutes!" she exclaimed. She touched her cheeks. She needed to wash the scent of tears off.

"Go in seven minutes late," Cordelia urged, as Anya applied water from the bar sink to her face.

"Go in late, see the girl first, and cut her punishment time down," Cordy advised. "Or if you're seeing her later, I can walk in and call you away for some made up important excuse."

"I'll go in late, and see her first," Anya chose. "She was last, the last time around, and that had built up her fear."

God, Cordy mentally exclaimed. The 'doberman' theory was completely thrown out the window with this little girl vamp! The old Queen C easily crept back into her voice. "Why is she like that?"

"She's a toy," Anya simply answered, as if Cordelia would understand. The ex-demon suddenly hopped. "I have to go to the bathroom," she announced and promptly left the den. The brunette just blinked. She had absolutely no idea what Anya had just meant when referring to the little girl-pire as a 'toy'.

Finally Cordy sighed, looked at the clock with its antique face and realized there was still more of the night ahead of them. She decided to at least put away thoughts of their girl vampire problem until she could properly discuss it when she wasn't tired. The brunette went to the couch, wearily laid down, and placed her arm over her eyes. She felt Dennis blow softly upon her cheek.

"Dennis, watch over Anya. I'll be all right," Cordy murmured. The familiar, clear tones of Doris Day assaulted her vulnerable senses. If she were having a guilt session – which she actually was – she would have found the torment of listening to her mom's favorite song over and over pretty fitting. She heard something move above her, and before she could make a move herself, she felt a light peck of soft lips on her cheek. Startled, Cordy raised her arm from her eyes and looked up at a smiling Anya, who was kneeling beside the couch.

"You are very good at spanking one's inner angst moppet," the blonde girl announced. "And you have very nice cheekbones." Anya then looked at Cordelia curiously. "You're not saying anything. Did I not do that right? Sometimes Tara kisses me like that. She says it's a friend thing." Anya's brightness faded. "You and I must not be friends," she realized.

Cordelia placed a hand behind Anya's neck and urged her down. She got up on an elbow to meet the ex-demon's face. She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

To her relief, Anya's bright smile returned. The blonde girl regained her feet and hurried over to where the Blahniks lay. She slipped them on.

"I'll be back in less than an hour," she said cheerfully. Cordy fell back upon the couch cushions.

"I'll be here," she answered with a smile, and watched Anya depart. She heard Doris Day start her song again.

Who needs guilt, she thought, realizing that the tears that had threatened before Anya's surprise kiss had now receded. Who needs to waste time on that, and all the regrets that can't be taken back, when working on something new and good was so much better time spent.

Satisfied with that self-realization, Cordelia Chase dropped a hand to feel where the shotgun lay, and placed her other arm over her eyes again. Doris Day serenaded her to light slumber.

"Fooo," Buffy blew meditatively into her new blow gun. She was lying on her back, aiming for a bright star in the clear night sky. Kendra sat by the fire, having taken over Buffy's fire tending duties. The roasted sweet potatoes were all eaten, and a soft wood board now lay propped against the fire pit, several long thorns embedded into the crudely drawn target on its surface. Ken' had commented that gluing feathers to the ends of the thorns would make them fly better.

"We are so not going to raid chicken houses for feathers," Buffy had reacted loudly.

Kendra had merely given her the Look – Ken's patiently suffering, 'What you be thinkin', mon??' look – and had produced a package of tiny, loose, fishing lure feathers and a super glue bottle. Forty five minutes later, several carefully crafted, feathered thorn-darts stood drying in the sand. Buffy only managed to ruin three of them.

"Fooo," Buffy blew again, aiming for another star. Her back had begun aching – alot, which had interrupted her eager, practice session to riddle her target board full of sharp thorn-darts, courtesy of super powered Slayer lungs. Thankfully, Kendra, the Slayer who 'did not do hugs', was willing to give Buffy's lower back a much needed massage when the blonde finally had to take a break.

"I need to do more swimming," Buffy suddenly spoke outloud, to noone in particular. She blew musically into her pipe again. She heard the fire pop, and craned her neck to see what Kendra was up to. The Jamaican Slayer was fishing a newly hardened stake out of the fire.

"So when are you going to show me how to make this vamp knock out drug," Buffy demanded.

"Soon as I go to de Box and buy them 'erbs, mon," Kendra murmured, busy shoving sand over the hot stake.

"Couldn't you have brought them over when you snuck into the country?" Buffy asked impatiently.

"And meybe get arrested along de way for possession of de mysterious 'erbs, no way, mon!" the Jamaican scoffed. Buffy giggled.

"Sorry," the blonde apologized. She sighed, and lay back again to gaze up into the night sky. "I'm just antsy, I guess. You're giving me a chance to help with the action. I'm...thanks for that, Ken'."

"No problem," Buffy heard Kendra solemnly answer, and again the fire made its hiss and crackle, as it gave up another stake. The blonde Slayer heard the weapon hit the sand with a thud. "With two of us, we can even take on de Wicked."

Buffy stiffened at the quiet words, and clutched her blow gun to her chest. A deadening chill gripped her.

When Kendra had tried to stake Vamp Willow in the hospital room, every cell in Buffy's body had screamed Not Yet. The Slayer in her had known what had to be, ever since both of Xand and Wills' deaths, but the girl in her had not been ready. And when the Willow demon had offered her unprotected chest to Buffy's stake, the Slayer knew it had not been a warrior's disdain of the cheap kill that prevented her from driving that wood into the vampire's heart.

Hope held my hand back, Buffy's mind whispered distantly back to her. A stupid, false thought...yet even knowing that, with demon Willow's vulnerable, dead heart offered her, Buffy had still not been able to do it. Not then.

"Ken'," Buffy finally spoke, and found her voice stiff with suppressed emotion. She worked her throat. "I need to tell you something."

Silence fell for a while, as Buffy tried to choose what she wanted to say. She turned her head once more from her unseeing regard of the stars to spy how Kendra was. The other girl was still seated by the fire, her young face and dark eyes without expression, but they were patient, and receptive. Buffy thought of how strong Kendra seemed – so independent, so untouched, and so unlike herself, who had grown up, pre-Calling, a girl with practically everything she could want or felt entitled to. Buffy had always felt that her own strength, as Willow had told her once, was fortified by those who loved her. Even the Master had known this. But Kendra, raised without parents or friends, had to be strong without anyone. Buffy returned her gaze to the night sky.

"When I was Called," Buffy began slowly. "I was fourteen, and Merrick – my first Watcher – found me later. My mom had no clue about what was going on."

"As it was," the blonde Slayer corrected. She was just going to leave it at that and not argue further with Kendra's 'by the Slayer Handbook' attitude.

"Then Merrick was killed, and I accidentally burned down my old school's gymnasium," Buffy continued softly. "Mom finally found out what I was. She didn't believe that Watchers' stuff about how the Chosen should be alone in her fight. She said she and Dawn would stick by me. So we kinda ended up on the run together, because I had pissed off this really powerful vampire – one too powerful for me to kill. At least then."

Buffy paused, searching her memory for the answer to what she just knew her sister Slayer would be asking of her next.

"Um, well, I never got his name right?" Buffy hedged. "I called him Taquitos...y'know, like the Mexican – " Buffy glanced briefly up from where she lay and saw Kendra's understandably baffled expression. "Nevermind. Anyway, so there we were, me, Mom, and Dawnie, on the run. Mr. Ancient Vamp did catch up with us, and he brought – " Buffy swallowed. "The bastard brought a real surprise for me, just in time for my fifteenth birthday," she practically snarled. "I ended up in our motel room fighting off my dad, the vampire."

Buffy recalled the horrifying struggle amid the meager remains of present wrapping and a modest birthday cake. She had locked Dawn in the bathroom, and her mother had already been knocked aside by the invading vamps. She had managed to dust all of them – and throw in a few, choice puns victoriously while she was at it – when he had entered. Her dad. Her undead dad.

"Worst fear that could ever come true, y'know?" Buffy continued, with a bitter, angry tone. "That's when I really understood why Watchers wanted Slayers to fight alone. Dad had me by the throat and I looked at his human face and I couldn't. Even when he went to demon face and bit me, I still couldn't fight. The." Buffy cleared her throat. "The horror of it all was too much, I guess.

"Then I thought of Dawn, who was still alive and trapped in the bathroom. I thought of Mom. And that was when I got my answer to fight back. But by then dad was seriously draining me, and then...Mom staked him."

Buffy looked at Kendra. "Dawnie doesn't know any of this," she added quietly. "She doesn't know he got Turned either. To her, he's still out there, somewhere, her divorced, absentee dad." The Jamaican Slayer nodded gravely, and Buffy returned her bright, wet eyes to the sky again.

"There was still Mr. Ugly Ancient vamp to deal with, so I tried running out on Mom and Dawnie to keep them safe. Which was probably what he had planned on anyway, because I was alone, and I couldn't take him on alone. When Mom finally caught up with me, we did Mr. Ugly in together – especially when she felt it was equally her right to get this vamp for what he did to dad. I dropped a shipping crane on Taquitos right into the Chicago harbor," Buffy stated proudly. "He should still be feeding the fishies at the bottom to this day."

Buffy nodded her agreement, and then her proud, hard smile faded. "Since then, I never chose to fight alone," she said softly. "Having friends helps you win, that's why it's good that you're letting Oz, and Larry, and Angel help you, Ken'.

"But at the same time, when those friends, those loved ones, are taken from you and made into your enemy?....Deep down, something's got to be found, for you to kill that kind of enemy. I may talk it up in front of everyone else, Ken', but Slayer righteousness just isn't enough for something like this, at least not for me."

Her last memory of vampire Xander was of his familiar, goofy, handsome face, taunting her, while he held a stake to a battered, chained up Angel beside him. An Angel whose bared flesh had displayed the evidence of what two months of being the Master's – and Xander's – prisoner had done to him.

"I staked Xander because I had to," Buffy whispered to her friend. "Not because I'm the Slayer, but because he pushed me. He pushed me by nearly killing Angel. In the end, that became the reason I could hold in my heart to take him out. Like Mom and Dawnie with dad, Angel was the reason why I could finally stake Xander. I look at Will and I know I still have to find a reason. I have to find that reason that can't be questioned or in the end I might fail you, Ken'."

Buffy laughed harshly. "Wills has things happening so subtly, you know it's not going to be that easy. We push her, then maybe she'll push back, and then...then maybe I get my reason."

Buffy sniffed suddenly, her face breaking, and she put up a quick hand to wipe at her wet face. Cry-Buffy, she heard Cordelia's judgmental voice accusingly echo in her head.

"I'm sorry....I'm sorry I'm weak," she sniffled, clutching the blowgun to her chest. Was this how it will always be? Buffy thought sadly to herself. Would she always hurt? Whenever she did stop hurting though, that might be the path of mercilessness she might never want to find herself on.

"You're not weak, mon," she heard Kendra softly say. Buffy sobbed, wiping angrily at her face. Yeah right, Buffy thought, allowing herself a brief, pity party. Cry-Buffy the Crippled Slayer, ineffective Willow Demon-Killer. As she mentally tried to kick her own pathetic ass – or more appropriately, the mean, old universe's ass, for the hands it had dealt her – the prone Slayer felt the cool touch of her friend's shadow. She could not help glancing up to where the second Slayer now crouched beside her, back lit by the fire.

"Envy you," Kendra simply stated, nodding slowly as she looked down at Buffy with dark, accepting eyes. "Envy what you have, mon." She said nothing more, apparently embarrassed by her inability, or – as Buffy suspected – personal reluctance to draw out this Slayer Hallmark moment out further. Buffy found her own mouth twist into a brief, pained smile of gratitude.

She held out her hand to Kendra, and returned her wet, determined eyes to the black sky.

"Together," Kendra agreed, and Buffy felt the firm, hot grasp of her sister Slayer's hand. "Let the Wicked beware."

Buffy curled her fingers in that strong grip, watching the stars who were her witness to this promise. She'll get her reason. And then they'll both take care of Willow.

"Ha HaHa Ha Ha!!" Willow laughed gaily, her booted feet swinging, and threw yet another chocolate covered peanut three stories down into the exiting movie crowd. Harmony stuck her neck out, trying to spot the hapless pedestrian Wills was aiming for. She felt like she was one of those winged, stone demons that sat on tall gothy churches. She and her boss were perched high enough to be vampire gargoyles, seated as they were amid the slender scaffolding of the movie theater's brightly lit marquee. Willow had leapt easily up to the second story of the theater building – without the aid of magic – to Harm's astonishment. Harm had given it a a good girl scout's go and found that she could only leap as high (with scrambling success), as the first story. When she finally clambered up to where her Master was seated, the redhead had already pulled the large, blue candy box of Goobers she'd bought at the movie concession counter, from her coat pocket.

"Xander's favorite!" Willow had exclaimed, popping open the box. Harm had automatically scowled, hearing her stupid sire's name, but then Xander <had been Wills' best friend, even when undead. Goobs for a big Goober. It was perfectly apt. Willow then proceeded to name a moving target far below them and hit that person or thing with a chocolate covered peanut. Harm had been completely impressed with Willster's perfect aim.

"Yeah, that one was wearing a toupee," Harm observed, finally spotting who Willow had hit this time. The blonde vampire idly blew a large, pink bubble as she watched. The ant-sized figure of a frantic man was seeking out his lost hairpiece on the busy sidewalk surface.

"Okay...okay, wait. Okay." Harm chewed her gum for a moment, then aimed for the man's shiny pate. She spat her gum out loudly.

"Well, crap," blonde vampire stated, seeing that she only hit sidewalk and nothing else. Mr. Baldy walked away, gum-free and trampled hair rug back on his shiny head. Disgruntled, Harm pulled out another fresh gum piece, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. Willow hummed beside her and shook another goober out of her candy box.

"Policeman," Wills named, pointing at the officer below, zooming through departing theater traffic on his motorcycle. Willster let him get as far as half a block before whipping the peanut in her hand. Harm gaped in mid chew, watching the officer's bike waver suddenly as Willow's peanut candy connected with his metal helmet.

"What, at throwing peanuts?" Her boss asked, putting one finally into her mouth. Willow immediately made a face, her small mouth working slowly at the distasteful discovery of stale, chocolate peanut.

"At everything," Harm clarified. "You're freakin' elder vamp, all leaping up tall buildings and fuck. I kinda doubt I'll be like that in twenty years."

"Oh, I dunno, Harm," Willow replied around the finger she was trying to clean her mouth with. "If you fulfill some of the qualities of strong childer, you'll get there."

"Well." Willow began ticking them off on her fingers. "Rising with a strong demon, first. That's usually determined by what kind of human you were. Second, the bloodline you come from. You are, Harm, a direct grandchilde of the Master, thanks to Xander." Willow then cocked her head casually, looking slyly at Harmony. "Technically, Darla's your aunt. And Angel is your cousin. By right of Blood, you even outrank my Sire."

The alarm bells were ringing inside Harmony even before she opened her mouth to protest.

"No way, Will," she declared emphatically, wanting to stomp out this possibility of rift between her and Willow right there and then. If her Master even suspected Harm might turn on her for kin like Darla – just because of Blood ties – the blonde vampire was sure to be dusted. "I don't do right of Blood – Drusilla's got right of Elder, and you're my elder too. Wills rules Harm."

Willow stared at her, through half-lidded, assessing eyes, then nodded. Harmony's inner Harm – the one that remembered what breathing was like – did a big sigh of relief.

"So," the blonde vampire brought up hesitantly. "So, what are the other qualities?"

"Oh," Willow said casually, as she shook her candy box. "You are what you eat. The more live kills, the stronger you are, but more importantly, the more strong blood you eat, the stronger you are." The redhead glanced at her lieutenant and noticed Harmony's typical blank look.

"You've only been eating human, haven't you, Harm," Willow observed, chucking a peanut without looking. Harm thought she heard something tinkle, like shattering glass.

"No, but you can eat part demon, and enhanced human," Willow clarified, and tossed another peanut. Harm heard someone shriek below.

The blonde vampire thought a moment. Tara, magic person. Enhanced, heck yeah. Wills' Pet smelled way yummier than Cordy and that Anya chick put together, and now Harm knew it was because of the mojo in the witch's blood.

"Geez, what have you been eating, Will?" she joked weakly, remembering her first, frightened reaction when she had sensed the redhead's childe presence in the sewers. Among childer signatures, Willow registered up there with hundred year olds and scary assed demon shit. And her blood! God, the little of Wills' blood Harm had tasted was like being hit in the mouth and senses by the best kind of blood and sex ten times over.

"Lots of good stuff," Willow replied smugly, her little feet kicking. Realizing that was all her boss was going to offer for now, Harm pensively returned her attention to the street below.

"What about me and the kids then?" she said softly to herself, not realizing she had said it aloud, as she thought of the rule she now lived under, in Cordy's house.

"I'm hunting a werewolf now," she heard her boss say, as Harm watched yet another chocolate peanut sail through the air. "I did a little casting, and it turned out that this bitch belongs to a rogue pack that's establishing territory in Sunnydale Forest. They've already made a few human kills." Harmony felt her demon face come to the fore at the information – this town was her brethren's, and werewolves happened to be ancient foes of vampires, always in competition for coveted feeding grounds. No fucking way should a bunch of weres be allowed to eat what was hers – and Wills'.

"So when you and the kids go kill them," she heard Willow continue. "Eat them." Harm looked up quickly, surprised, and met Willow's meaningful, green eyed gaze. "Their blood can take you a long way, Harm," her boss gave.

The blonde vampire took an unneeded breath, realizing that Willow, despite Cordy's Law, did intend to keep her and hers strong. "Thanks Will," she said gratefully.

The redhead gave a small smile. She threw another peanut. "What the fuck?!" Came the pained utterance far below.

"So, strong demon, strong sire line, strong food," the blonde vampire summed up. Sounded simple enough. "And maybe a strong start?" Harm added thoughtfully. "Like a sire that'll raise a kid proper and make sure it's the best kinda demon?"

"Have you been reading childer raising books, Harm?" Willow laughed. "Adversity is what makes strong childer, not attention. Do you know what kind of childe makes a really good Master?"

"One who had been a very good submissive," Willow explained, staring at Harmony. "Like you Harm, having to serve under Luke. Since you know what it's like, you know how to give it.

"When you talk of a strong start, Harm, you're talking about more than wanting to be a strong childe," Willow continued, as she tossed her empty candy box down to the street below. "You're talking about what kind of vampire is disciplined enough to do more than just eat and kill and, oh." Willow waved her slender hands expressively. "Be the best serial killer one can be. You're talking about a childe who can make Houses, build Clans...rule. The childe that knows control and how to control is the one who has survived the control of another."

"Luke was a real S.O.B., but he made me what I am, no thanks to Xand," Harmony stated simply. "But who taught you, Will?" And the blonde vampire felt instinctively, that she'd asked a dangerous question, one perhaps too personal, too soon. She just hoped that her boss would overlook her assumed familiarity, if the blonde had pushed too far. The question had only fallen out of her mouth because Drusilla, obviously, was a tad too koo koo to be the sort of teacher Willow was talking about.

Willow did not appear offended, however, just merely thoughtful, as she stared at Harmony. The redhead then stood up on the slender scaffolding and began unbuttoning her leather coat.

"Uh," Harm uttered, hands awkwardly held out, like she could actually steady her Master. The blonde vampire was sitting on the other side of a thin scaffold column and couldn't reach Wills if she tried, if the redhead lost her footing. Willow draped her long coat over a rail and then unbuttoned the tight, red, silk shirt she was wearing. As was usual for vamps, she wore no under garment. She then pulled the loose shirt up, revealing her pale, lower back, and turned upon the scaffolding to display the bared, slim expanse to Harm.

"See it?" Willow asked, and Harmony leaned forward, realizing what the redhead was referring to. There, on her 'chick spot', was a tattoo, an oriental letter.

"What's it say?" Harm asked, realizing that it had not been ink done when Willow had been human. For one thing, she doubted good little geeky Wills would've ever gotten a tattoo, no matter how cute or supposedly meaningful.

"It's kanji for 'luck and happiness'," Willow supplied, finally lowering the shirt back into place. She dropped back down to sit again beside Harmony, not bothering to button her shirt back up. The red silk blew softly in the night wind, fluttering against the pale, freckled flesh and small breasts it revealed.

"Yes," Willow simply replied. She rested her head upon the standing column that separated her from Harmony as she gazed at the blonde vampire. "Put there by a Slayer," she revealed softly. "I was her Pet."

For the second time that night, Harmony actually felt her dead lungs inhale, especially at this confession Willow was giving her. It was a confession that was all of the Sad Bad – just rich with potential rage, disgust, and shame, as would be any respectable vampire's reaction, but Willow did not appear to be any of those things, as she stared at Harm. Perhaps it had happened a very long time ago, or perhaps it really hadn't been that kind of relationship, but something in Wills' quiet attitude definitely hinted that it had been everything the name 'Pet' implied, and even far worse than that.

"I'm going to guess it wasn't a secret love affair," Harmony finally said flatly.

"I was seven at the time, and I didn't listen to Mummy," Willow softly related. "Got tired of landing in the, who knows what number Sunnydale it was then, and not ending up in the right one. As usual, I attracted attention, and received an invite from certain Brethren to visit San Francisco. The Slayer happened to be there, a member of the Yakuza."

"Wait," Harm interrupted. "Yakuza? You mean, an evil Slayer?" Could there even be such a thing? the blonde vampire thought. Besides the fact that just the idea of it sounded like a really twisted Japanese soap.

"Oh yes," Willow smiled at her, but again, the soft smirk held little humor. "Think, Harm. Let's say a girl gets Called, but she's already a broken little thing, prostituting for one of the oldest and most evil of underworld organizations. What if that organization finds out what she is? What if she ends up, not with the Watchers, but with her bosses, their prized assassin? And then think of how that organization could use the leverage of a Slayer to make pacts with all their local vampire clans, including the ones all along the Pacific Rim."

"I caught her eye, somewhere, maybe at a club, maybe while hunting for dinner. I ended up kidnapped, and woke up in the Slayer's stronghold in Tokyo. I didn't realize until later how many Families were trying to claim that they were the ones who made a present of me to her, she enjoyed possessing me so much. I remembered every one of those Family names, though," Willow recalled softly.

"How." Harm paused, a little embarrassed that she wanted to know. It was – this was Bad stuff, Wills was sharing, and whoever had handed in one of their own to be a Slayer's actual plaything – Fuck. "How long were you...?"

Oh my god, thought Harm. That's too long. And Wills wasn't crazy. As far as she could tell.

"Well," Harm said slowly. "You got all your...toes and everything, right? And teeth? And...internal parts?"

"Oh yes," she heard Wills say. "Mummy says they're okay now. It took a year or so, but they're fine." She reached up then, both arms, and held the bracing metal above her. She closed her eyes and arched her slender, bared torso out to the night air. She let her head fall back. The wind blew, red silk, red hair, and Harm watched the black night define the outline of Willow's pale, white body – the long, beautiful line of throat, and chest, to the soft swell of breast, and then to the slope and gentle cave of ribs and abdomen – and Harm thought of something supposedly human and utterly Corrupt touching all of that.

"Yes," Willow whispered, eyes shut. "Insane. And not very smart, not really. She didn't get half my jokes. But she understood pain, and deprivation, and abuse. And like I told her on a daily basis...when I could talk...I was more than happy to end her miserable excuse for an existence." Willow finally straightened, and opened her green eyes to Harmony. "She was a coward, Harm. She would push, and push, pretending it was a game, but I knew, even as she forced me to fight her, learn her moves – because she really was an incredible fighter, despite being a psycho. She wanted me to do her. She wanted me to kill the living shame that was the Slayer, but she would always back out. I think that was one of the reasons why she kept me for that long."

"Mummy's help," Willow answered, leaning against one of her stretched arms. "Her Mata Hari moment, she likes to call it." And for the first time since the conversation began, Willow genuinely grinned. "The Council had been trying to assassinate this Slayer for years, but the Yakuza was impenetrable, constantly taking out the Council's teams. Mum made a deal with the Watchers to help her get in. It took her a while though, because the Council are a bunch of idiots. Finally, she was in a position where her 'mad' sire routine alerted the Slayer's curiosity more than it did her suspicions. Sire got in, and helped me finish the girl."

"What, no big torture scene, no Japanese castle going up in flames? No vengeful samurai shit?" Harm asked. Willow glanced back at the blonde vampire and grinned.

"She tried to commit suicide, Harm. I guess with me suddenly freed, the prospect of my having her at my caprice finally scared her more," Willow laughed. "Slayer's blood is another one of those meals that can take you a long way," she added softly. "Underneath the rich taste of her Slayer power though, that girl ultimately tasted pitiful. In suicidal death, she tasted nothing like when she was alive."

Harm suddenly spat out her gum into the night air, fiercely irritated. Great, she thought angrily. An evil Slayer – insane – and also a bleeder whore, getting off on vampire suckage. She probably even got her rocks off while dying under the teeth of Wills and Dru, no joy for the killers. Harm now understood completely, Willow's seeming lack of anger with this sick human bitch. The Slayer had not been, in the end, truly worth the time.

"All dusted," Willow answered. "It took me and Mum about half a year, but we cleaned all Houses up and down the Pacific Rim. Didn't bother with formality, just walked in and dust, dust, dust, dust...." And she emphasized each 'dust' with a motion of her hand, like shooting off a gun.

"Wicked," Harm ejected, and put out her hand for a quick 'five' from the redhead.

"Will," Harm finally said, as she watched her boss once again place her hands upon the bar above her, eyes closed to the touch of the night's breeze. "All this stuff that you just told me, dies right here. I'll never tell anyone."

"Only Kitten and you know," Willow murmured, eyes still shut. Harmony nodded gravely, even though Wills couldn't see it. She may not have been a very trustworthy girl, as a human, but Harmony Kendall now, demon to demon, could easily be honorable. Boss' rep depended on it.

"Harm," she heard Wills asked softly. "Do you...sometimes feel a need, to be owned like that again?"

"Huh?" Harm said smartly. She couldn't help her reaction – this was probably the first time Willow had ever asked her a really personal question. "I....I dunno. I guess I've been too busy to kinda...and y'know, not easy right now to find the right vamp I want to play with like that. Uh...besides that one time with you, Wills."

"Kitten does that for me," Willow gave softly. "She understands. She won't hit, but her magic burns, and when it burns me, it supersedes the memory of that other girl's touch, easily." Willow opened her eyes, and they were shining, glittering, and finally, all confident, clever, funny Wills again, as Harmony gazed into them. "Kitten gives me the Rapture," Willow finally admitted, smiling beautifully.

"Bet she does," Harm quietly agreed, returning the smile. Didn't Wills just say, submissives make the best Masters? And Tara had it written all over her – Harm didn't know exactly what had been done to the witch, but the Master's Pet had definitely paid her sober dues, somewhere.

"Prisoners who survive, Harm," she heard Wills softly say. "Those are the strongest kind."

The candle lit easily, and as the flaming wick warmed and melted the scented wax, the essence of sweet smelling jasmine filled the room's air. Tara retrieved the cup of seeping hibiscus tea, finding it finally cool enough to the touch. She drank it slowly, enjoying the relaxing, sensual taste of the red flower, and visualized her love. A female voice sang a gentle, introspective Arabic song from her tape player, and as the accompanying instruments took up the hypnotic melody, Tara closed her eyes and let her arm move sinuously in the air. As the fingers of her right hand met in a graceful, mudra-like gesture, the silver slave bracelet slid slowly down her wrist. She imagined wearing veils of silk, jewelry of gold, and of having the skin of her hands and feet decorated with beautiful, mehndi patterns. If she were the harem woman to this music, surrounded by the scent of flowers, who was her owner then, her queen, her sultan? Tara smiled, eyes still closed, as she imagined Willow easily in such a guise. No doubt, her vampire would enjoy the role, immensely.

Once the song ended, Tara opened her eyes. She reached over and shut the tape player off, then rose to retrieve her grandmother's Book of Shadows upon her desk. She opened it to a page she had previously bookmarked, and went over the spell she had chosen, one more time.

During the very dark hours like these, especially so close to her cycle, Tara would experience the hum of her body's latent, feminine sensuality. If Willow were with her now, she would definitely fulfill the inherent promise of each of the flowers invoked tonight; red hibiscus for lust, jasmine for spiritual love. She picked up the cell phone Willow had given her.

Harm heard a muffled, jingling sound, and automatically reached for her phone in her pocket.

"Harm," she said, speaking into her phone, then glanced at it. Duh, her phone wasn't the one that rang.

"Kitten," she heard Willow warmly breathe, her boss standing upon her bit of scaffolding with her phone to her ear. She walked easily away. Her red silk shirt fluttered around her pale, slender torso, still fully unbuttoned. Harm rolled her eyes. Willow was definitely the sort of vampire to catch a pervy Slayer's attention, all right.

"Short life span, gotta love it," Harm muttered to herself, as she turned her attention idly to the now deserted, late night street below. "If those Slayers got to stick around longer, we'd all end up their harem butt monkeys," she observed with a snap of her new piece of gum.

"How's my baby," Willow smiled softly, as she balanced casually upon the scaffolding beam. "Going to sleep now?"

"Oh yes," Willow breathed, but her 'yes' lacked a little of her usual, playful tone, the lingering emotions of her last conversation with Harm still clinging to her. "Miss you, Kitten," she murmured, a finger drawing idle designs upon the steel pole before her.

"I want to give you something," she heard Kitten say, and there was a meaningful weight to her ingenuous tone.

"Something?" Willow repeated, perking up immediately. She loved it when her witch surprised her. Kitten's 'somethings' were always so very good!

"I'm safe, Kitten," Willow assured, looking down at the street far below. She glanced to where Harm sat, frowning her 'pensive frown' into the dark and blowing a huge pink bubble. While talking to Kitten, Willow had climbed a bit higher on the scaffolding, and was now standing above the oblivious blonde vampire. "And it's private," she added to her witch.

"Okay," Tara said, as her finger scanned the lines of the spell once again. She stepped back. "I have to put the phone down, Willow, but in a minute or so, you should feel something, okay?"

"Okay, Kitten," her vampire breathily agreed. After another assurance that she was putting the phone down, Tara did so, and then picked up a photo of Willow – one she had easily convinced her lover to take. She focused a moment upon the image of her gently smirking vampire, seated at her desk in her sanctum. Tara gathered the sensual energies and sensations inspired in her, tonight. She let the photo go, closed her eyes, and began to recite the spell.

Willow waited, senses open to the night and to any possible sensation. She stood upon the thin scaffolding and braced her arms above her head, her phone already laid safely aside. She closed her eyes, her lips curling in sweet anticipation. Then she felt it, Kitten's touch – Warm, liquid and honeyed, tingling through – no, in – her thighs, between her legs, and up her torso and in her breasts, and in her chest –

Harm looked up abruptly, and saw her Master standing practically spread eagled upon the scaffolding beam, her slender body flexing as a shimmering, gold-like, smoke-like, something, practically shimmeyed up that now straining pale body. Harm scrambled to her feet, as Willow threw her head back.

"Geez, Will! Geezus!!" Harm exclaimed, as she tried to get into a position behind her oblivious and aroused Master. Desperately, the blonde vampire grabbed for the low slung waistband of Willow's leather pants, just as that pert little ass tightened in front of her. The wind suddenly picked up, whipping swiftly, and the red silk of Wills' shirt lifted like a sail, displaying 'luck and happiness' fully to Harm's eyes. Through her firmly locked hand in Willow's waistband, Harmony felt the golden touch of insistent magic that tasted – on her white-knuckled skin – just like Tara.

"Kit – " Willow exhaled, trembling. She smelled jasmine, full scented, strong, she tasted –

Willow cried out Tara's name into the windy darkness just as her straining body quickly climaxed.

And Harm gritted her teeth, feeling her Master cum, the very vibration of it – magical and physical – running right through her clenched fist and into her –

By sheer, demonic will, Harm fought that sensation to a standstill before it tremored passed her shoulder. No, Fucking, Way, was she going to secondhand experience a Tara-induced Happy. She growled angrily as she helped Wills collapse awkwardly to a seated – and fuckingly sated – position. The redhead immediately fumbled a languid hand for her phone.

"W-What was that growl?" she heard Kitten ask in nervous concern. "Are you okay?"

"Ohhh, that was unhappy Harmony," Willow drawled, and reached behind her to patronizingly pat the blonde vampire. Irritated, Harm slapped Wills' hand away. Now certain her Master wasn't about to slip off her little butt, Harm quickly moved under the beam to get in front of Wills.

"Fucking always the quiet ones," Harm muttered, pulling at Willow's tangled shirt so that she could button it shut. It was time to call it a night and take her boss, the freakin' exhibitionist, home, Harm firmly decided. Especially before the redhead caught another Slayer's eye – who the fuck knows if K-Slayer might be all suppressed, evil dom under that Robo nature, the blonde vampire warily speculated. And Buffy, crippled now, therefore frustrated. Yeah, Harm could easily see a bored, evil Buffy acting on her inner lust monster if she saw Wills like this. Harmony scowled darkly and tugged Willow's twisted shirt into place.

"Harmony??" Kitten's voice squeaked from Willow's phone. "I thought you said you were alone!"

"Well, I didn't say that, Kitten, I said I was somewhere private," Willow corrected, accommodating Harmony's rather brusque fingers as they worked at her shirt by helpfully lifting her free arm. "And she's the only one here, and she's making sure I'm safe. I, I really liked your gift, Kitten," Willow added in her best little girl tone, hoping it placated her girl. She really did enjoy her witch's spell – it had been perfect, and so perfectly timed. Receiving Kitten's magical love touch had chased away memories she hadn't dwelled on, for...for a good long while, thankfully.

Tara was momentarily silenced, sensing the weight implied in her vampire's soft voice. She decided not to ask about whatever it was, that her small gift to Willow had helped to make easier. Asking, perhaps, would only revive what had been made easy.

"Your welcome, Willow," she said gently. Tara smiled then, and turned to her bed, pulling back the covers.

"Getting in bed now," she said playfully, as she did just that, hopping upon the mattress.

"Oh?" Willow grinned. "Are you naked?" she added with a cute leer. She felt Harm move away from her, and looked briefly down at herself. The blonde vampire had buttoned her all up and even tucked in her shirt.

"No," her witch answered simply, and Willow could actually hear Kitten snuggling into her blankets. It was a game they liked to play; a little phone snuggling. And on Willow's part, maybe a little phone sex.

"Well, why not, Kitten?" Willow teased. "Maybe you should lift your – whatcha wearin' tonight?....Oh, well then, let me push that right up so's I can put my – "

Willow suddenly felt her free arm firmly lifted by Harmony and shoved into the sleeve of her leather coat.

" – big, soft – – Harmony!! Do you mind! I can put on my own coat!!" Willow snapped, when her lieutenant had the gall to insist on putting her phone holding arm into the other sleeve of her coat.

"I'm sorry Kitten, Harmony's being a big poop head tonight," Willow apologized into the phone as she glared at the blonde vampire. Harm just folded her arms and watched Wills shrug her coat into place. "Will you come by right after classes tomorrow then? Okay....sounds good, Kitten. We'll have dinner, okay? Sweet dreams."

And then Willow proceeded to make kissy sounds. Harmony suppressed a snort, although not the roll of her eyes.

Cordelia wearily arched, stretching her back, and actually heard it crack. She stood in the reception area of her house and stared up at the bright chandelier above her, her shotgun resting on a shoulder. She could not help the amused smile that came to her mouth as she listened to what was happening in the 'minions wing'. Anya, surprisingly, had a really great singing voice – practically Broadway worthy. The ex-demon had gone in with a pitcher of ice water, refreshed the throats of each of her tormented charges, and now, as an end note to a long night spent giving lessons, was leading all the minions in a rousing rendition of 'Que Sera Sera'.

"Que Sera, Seraaaaa – " Cordy heard Anya sing out clearly, the baritones and various tenors of the now obedient male-pires strongly supporting her. "Whatever Will Be, Will Beeeee, The Future's Not Ours To Seeeee, Que Sera, Seraaaaa – "

In Sunnydale park, a fire pit sat hot and black, its fire entirely put out. Kendra was already long gone, prowling the shadowed streets, looking for creatures deserving of the newly hardened stakes she possessed. Buffy's chair squeaked as Angel pushed her easily along the park sidewalk towards Casa de Summers, smiling as he bent to hear what his beautiful, young golden girl was saying to him.

Speeding along Sunnydale's deserted streets, Harm easily ran red lights as she drove Wills' Impala straight for home. She glanced back briefly, seeing Will – her boss' thoughtful, green eyes wide – snuggled safe in the arms of her dreamy eyed Sire in the backseat. Wills' mysterious Sire had been waiting – for who knows how long – for their return to the car. Eternity was nothing to elder vamps, the blonde realized. Harm turned back to the wheel and thought of Slayers, Masters, and Pets, and wondered briefly where a fledgling named Harmony fit into all of that. Harm only had one answer for any sort of brief lapse into needless self-reflection.

CHAPTER SIX: WILLOW'S WOMEN
(Where There's A Slayer, In Your Face, Wills. Let's Role Play.)

Tara tumbled backwards, falling hard – mostly from trying to avoid the blow, but Willow's unconscious backhand had connected anyway. On the vampire's bed, Willow's body tensed again, caught in the stifling throes of some gripping nightmare. It was midday; Tara had dropped by the mansion between classes, intending to surprise her lover. However, the young witch realized something was wrong the moment she entered the bedroom. Her mistake had been in getting too close to her vampire.

"DRU!!" Tara yelled. She scrambled to her feet. On the bed, Willow broke into her demon visage. Her face screamed, but no sound came out. Tara ran to the hall. "DRU!!"

She nearly bowled into the naked form of Willow's sire, obviously roused from sleep. Tara took hold of Drusilla's slender arm and urged her into the room.

The dark haired vampiress needed no further coaxing. Dru practically flopped onto the bed, straddling her childe. She easily caught Willow's arms and pinned them. She placed her smooth forehead to Willow's hard ridges.

"NN – " the pinned down redhead whimpered desperately, trapped in her dreamscape. "NN – NN – NNN – "

"She's dead, dead, dead," Dru softly sang, as she kept her forehead tight to Willow's. "Listen my sweet...she screams. Look, she's all inside out. No more laughter from that one, her throat's torn out. I plucked the chords. I strung a mandolin with them. Her sword, we – "

"Shoved up her CUNT!" Willow screamed, her voice harsh and demonic as she reared up into her Sire's arms. Sire and childe clung then, Dru making soothing sounds to her now wide awake Precious. Willow gasped harshly, dead lungs working. She stared wildly over her sire's bare shoulder at Tara.

The blonde witch shook. Willow's violent words echoed and reechoed within her. Despite her shock, she could easily guess at the painful context for such fearsome anger from her vampire. She sat down slowly at the bed's edge and stared into large yellow eyes that were wet, enraged, and frightened.

"K-Kitten?" she heard Willow whisper shakily. The lips against her fangs trembled as her arms sought desperate comfort in Dru. "I hit you?"

"Accident," Tara stated, surprised at the firm tone of her own voice, when she herself felt utterly disassembled by the high emotions resonating in the room. She raised a hand to her vampire's face.

"Bad dream," Willow blurted, clinging to Dru. "Talked too much last night. Brought back my old dream."

"Old dream," Tara breathed. Her thumb tentatively touched Willow's demon features. "Bad slayer."

Willow snarled, and hopped in Dru's lap, frustration and anger in the keening sound she made in her throat. She clung to Dru, and Tara did not drop her hand. The young woman watched rage, then misery, and finally pained resignation possess her vampire's demon face. Willow raised a hand, mirroring Tara's gesture, and touched the young woman's own features. Tara winced, realizing that the gentle fingertips were caressing a rapidly forming bruise.

PROTECT, Buffy had written at the top of her notebook paper, as she showed Kendra the list she had worked out while pretending to take notes in American Lit. It was afternoon, and they were in Sunnydale High's library. School was ending for the day, so the other White Hats were expected to make an appearance soon. The word 'Protect' was idly written on Buffy's note paper because of the argument she had with Mom that morning – an argument concerning her being out far too late on a school night. A confrontation that was very much about Buffy's seeming continuance with her Slayer role, despite being incapacitated.

"You don't have to do these things anymore, honey, not while Kendra's here!" her mother had exclaimed, totally exasperated. It was no way to start a morning for Mom, who had to go to work and drop her two daughters off to school – one of whom, the youngest, had already begun withdrawing sullenly within herself at the rising tension. Buffy tried to end – or at least postpone – the argument as swiftly as possible.

"I still feel the need to protect," she had declared. "I still need to do something to keep you all safe. I can help Ken' do that," she had tried to reassure her frustrated mother. Because it was morning, and they had to hurry, Joyce did leave the emotional discussion at that, for the moment.

Thus, under the all important word Buffy hoped her mother would not be able to argue against, the blonde Slayer had listed the major concerns she felt she and Kendra should currently address:

A smiley face was drawn near point four – just to emphasize its importance to her sister Slayer, Buffy had concluded.

"See," Buffy began, indicating point two and explaining it to Ken'. "Willow's not even owning up to being Master. We still don't know. So we have to assume that outsiders are going to get interested and try to move into town. Angel thinks that's a real good possibility, anyway."

"Indeed," Giles added, as he descended the library steps from the upper level. "When he was Angelus, he had, on occasion, taken such advantage himself, if he, Darla, or his childer were not directly responsible for some clan's demise. Granted, he and his Family never maintained their territorial conquests. I believe such usurp of power was more an exercise in 'fun'," Giles concluded wryly.

Kendra nodded gravely at her Watcher's words, while Buffy frowned. She didn't exactly like hearing about her boyfriend's infamous past. He was Angel now; he was different.

"So we keep the pressure on Willie until we hear of who the new wannabe Bad – or Bads – are going to be," Buffy stated. She glanced up at Ken'. "It sometimes helps to beat the info out of any vamps you come across," she advised. Kicking around vamps for information had been a former fun pasttime for the blonde Slayer, she had to admit. That, and ridiculing their fashion sense.

"Vampire presence is low," Kendra gave. "I find nothing but abandoned nests. The Wicked has made her vengeance known." The Jamaican Slayer didn't have to explain to her Watcher and to Buffy exactly how she knew Willow was responsible; she had already told them of finding a red 'W', scrawled or painted in plain view at the emptied nest sites she had come across.

For a while, all three present in the library fell to silence as they considered the information, and the evidence of Willow's apparent ruthlessness.

"And how do we do that?" Buffy countered. "Wave a white flag to Miss Wicked and say hey, let's parley? She hasn't given us anything, Giles. I don't like it. Until we know what she's up to next, I'm not feeling too friendly at the moment."

Giles noticed Kendra almost imperceptibly steeling herself, obviously disliking the idea of 'communications' as well. Buffy, seated in her wheelchair below him, was understandably antagonistic. They were Slayers; they did not make it a habit to negotiate with evil.

"Yes, well, we could pretend to being amiable to parleying, couldn't we?" he suggested drily. "Some information of what might possibly be going on is certainly better than none."

Before either of his Slayers could voice a response, the library entrance doors swung open, and the tall, poised, and perfectly dressed figure of Cordelia Chase strolled in.

"Hello, kids!" she greeted brightly, as she walked directly up to where the Watcher was standing near his Slayers. She had met the new Slayer when she had dropped off Joyce-mom at the Summers home that one night. Cordy only gave the superhero girls a cursory glance and then turned her attention to the librarian. "Giles, I'm here for a book. Or several, if you got them."

"Why, yes, I do indeed. Tara's list was quite clear," Giles replied, slightly flustered by the young brunette's rather brusque directness. "Welcome back," he then added. Although he had heard from Joyce that Cordelia was still alive, it was still startling to see that it was true. He was very curious to find out how she survived such a vindictive vampire attack.

"Thanks," the former cheerleader acknowledged. "It's good to be back." She continued to stand before him with a hand on her hip, radiating her trademark imperial attitude. "Can you get them now?" she demanded.

"Of, of course," the taller British man muttered as he turned away. He had nearly forgotten how remarkably 'tactful' the young brunette could be. It was so typically – her. "I shall fetch them for you, Miss Chase," he imparted with dry flippancy.

"So, Cordelia," Buffy addressed to her former White Hat's back, as the brunette stood facing the spot the Watcher had vacated. "What's the what? What happened after you brought Mom home from that dinner with Willow?"

It was barely discernible, but Buffy thought she saw Cordelia stiffen before turning around and flashing her 'Miss Photogenic' smile.

"What happened was, I decided to accept Willow's offers," the former cheerleader gave casually. "So you're looking at the new owner of Chase mansion and the part owner of the new Bronze, girls."

The two Slayers before her fell to shocked silence, even as Cordelia heard Gile's heavy step behind her as he reemerged from his office. No doubt the librarian was also stunned by her news.

"Cordy..." Buffy tried to speak. "W-Why?....I mean...how could you?" she ended accusingly. The library's double doors swung open again, and Larry, Oz, and Amy walked in. One look at Cordelia, however, and the dark haired witch turned suddenly and flew back out the doors.

"How could she what?" Larry grinned, catching the last of Buffy's words. He stopped dramatically to point at Cordelia. "Whoa, you're alive!" the football player exclaimed. "I owe Anya ten bucks!"

Cordelia had stepped forward at the sight of Amy, wanting very much to pursue and speak to the girl who was apparently responsible for her current state of 'aliveness', but the former May Queen reigned herself in. All the White Hats' attention was on her, and this was something she had to get through, especially since she didn't want to repeat this 'reunion' scene. That, and she really needed those darn books.

"Cordy's joined up with Willow," Buffy stated flatly, still staring at the tall brunette with disbelief and a hefty amount of disappointment in her hazel eyes. "She accepted Vamp Will's offers."

"Well that's just great," Larry declared sarcastically, mutual disbelief and other emotions evident in his face. "Are you really our Cordelia returned from the dead, or are you maybe, space pod Cordelia? I knew you were selfish, but you weren't that evil."

"I am Cordelia, Mr. 'I eat raw eggs for breakfast'," the brunette snapped. "And since when haven't I looked out for myself? Face it, playing with the White Hats got me killed – twice. Buffy can't watch out for me now, and no offense Kendra, but I don't want to be on your list of responsibilities. Willow is definitely not going to kill me, and I consider that a good thing. And not only that, I get paid! I'm in it for what I can get," Cordelia declared. "And unless you Slayerettes can promise me something better, you can wish me luck, or get the hell out of my way." And with that, Queen C tossed her shiny, brunette mane and moved determinedly for the Watcher's office door. Once Giles politely stepped aside, she walked right in. The Englishman shut the door behind her.

"Do they know?" Cordy suddenly hissed at him. She still kept the pretense of standing tall. She could not look at the Watcher.

"That I was the one who dropped her off at that mansion, that night," Cordy stated stiffly. "That night when she said Angel would be there, and that Xander would pick her up later. That night," Cordelia added roughly.

"I'm the only one who knows," Giles assured quietly, behind her. "You and Willow left together from my library and you dropped her off at her request at Angel's." He moved closer to the young brunette. "You could not have known that Angel had already been taken prisoner by the Master and that Spike and Drusilla were at the house. You cannot find fault with yourself, Cordelia."

"I lived only a block away, Giles!" Cordy snapped, finally looking up at the Watcher. "And yes, I've wasted plenty of nights thinking of what I could have done different to at least change what happened that night, but do you know what's funny? Not once has she said anything about it. Not even a, 'Hey Deel', remember that night when you dropped me off to be killed?'. Even though it doesn't matter to her, it sure as hell still matters to me. So if I want to do something stupid like work for her." Cordelia folded her arms, trying hard to make it not look like she was hugging herself. "I see no reason to explain why."

Giles moved slowly to his desk, realizing that the young brunette had returned to avoiding his eyes. Cordelia had always been a very proud girl. Even when Xander was her acknowledged boyfriend, she rarely shed the armor she held around herself and allowed comfort to be given her.

"Frakes' A Portrayal of the Vampire Family," he read quietly, then lifted the aforementioned book and set it aside. He read the title of the book beneath it. "Ettenberg's Brethren: Analysis of the Secret Hierarchal Society of Vampires."

Giles ceased reading the titles and carefully placed the large books in an order the young woman could easily carry. He picked them up, but paused before placing them in the arms Cordelia stiffly held out.

"Since Tara found these beneficial, I'm certain they will help you too," he offered. "If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask, Cordelia." The young girl before him only nodded, and accepted the books. Cordelia turned for the door. She was surprised to feel the Watcher's large, warm hand upon her shoulder. It was a firm grip; it was masculine, it was reassuring. For a fleeting moment, she thought of her dad, and of Xander.

"Don't consider yourself abandoned," she heard the man behind her assure softly. "There is no black and white here. When you need help, come to us."

"Thank you, Giles," Cordelia managed to answer graciously, and the smallest of smiles appeared on her lips as she glanced back at him.

"I'm not allowed to speak about Willow's business," the young brunette interrupted, her declaration sounding practically recited, the Watcher discerned. He vaguely recalled Tara saying much the same thing once. "But let me figure out what I can tell you, and get back to you," she offered with a larger, more genuine smile.

"Very well, then," Giles acknowledged, realizing his sudden idea to procure a liaison to Willow through Cordelia might not work anyway. The only way to genuinely communicate with Willow, without affecting the humans she controlled, would be to speak directly to the vampire herself. He returned the young woman's smile. "Very well."

Buffy pushed her wheels along, mulling over what she and Kendra had overheard in Giles' office only an hour ago – by pressing their Slayer enhanced ears to the door, of course. After the White Hats meeting and after Buffy had explained Cordy's startling (and confidential) confession to Ken' in more detail, the Slayers felt a walk to the Magic Box was in order.

"Wonder where Amy ran off to, she had wanted to come with," Buffy remarked distractedly. Poor Cor', she thought. Queen C was definitely having conflicting loyalties if she was going to just give up her own, once all important, 'I am all that exist in this universe – losers!' life and hand it over to evil Wills like a neatly wrapped present. Buffy could relate to the 'survivor's guilt', however. She even had to agree with Giles when they discussed the Cordy situation after the former cheerleader had left. They could only take a 'wait and see' attitude and hope Willow didn't hurt the former White Hat May Queen. Much.

Kendra did her bare impersonation of a shrug at Buffy's question. The Jamaican had known Amy Madison longer as a pet animal rather than as a human witch. Someone who would turn herself into a rat was definitely disturbed – or disturbing – in Kendra's personal book.

"We dust de Wicked," Kendra concluded. "Both dat girl and the good witch's problem are taken care of."

Buffy just rolled her eyes, even as she determinedly rolled her wheels along the sidewalk. Kendra was definitely the sort of Slayer with a real one track choo choo brain.

Jingling! Sang the Magic Box's door bell as Kendra pushed open the door for Buffy's wheelchair.

"Good afternoon, potential White Hat customers," Anya greeted cheerfully from her front counter. "We do not have crippled people access," she helpfully informed. The former demon watched the Jamaican Slayer lift Buffy from her wheelchair, set the blonde Slayer aside, place the chair on the store floor below the steps, and walk back up to retrieve her friend.

"Unless you have super strength, then you may wheel yourself around freely," Anya added with less cheer, as Buffy proceeded to do just that down her precariously narrow product aisles. "Please pay for any displays or merchandise you break."

"Hello Anya," Buffy greeted with chirpy enthusiasm as she parked herself before the counter. "We have a list of stinky things we want you to fulfill!" Kendra stoically reached over the counter and handed Anya a handwritten list.

"Ah," the shop owner exclaimed, as she read the paper. "Let me copy this down, and..." She quickly began writing the list down on a pad. "...And then see what I have downstairs in the stock room, because." She glanced up to smile at the two girls – well, at Kendra anyway. Buffy, being in a wheelchair, was located lower than Anya's line of sight. "Some of what you have here...I am not supposed to really have. Not according to the FDA and U.S. customs, anyway."

"Yes I do need a copy," Anya replied, as she continued to do that. "With certain plant matter I am not supposed to actually have, it's good to keep a list so that I remember what to restock – when you return to refill your order, which you are certain to do, of course."

Anya suddenly found the paper she was writing on, torn from her pad and deliberately crushed before her eyes by a richly coffee colored hand.

"Hey!" Anya protested, as Kendra then retrieved her own list from the counter top as well. "That's destruction of store property!"

"Anya," she heard Buffy practically drawl. To Anya's increasing discomfort, the Jamaican's dark eyes narrowed into a menacing stare as she stood before her. "Why were you copying our list?"

"Well, if you must know," Anya retorted, folding her arms defensively. She gave her newly light blonde hair a toss. It would figure that neither girl would notice the hair color change, Anya chose to mentally grouse. Of course, her color job was superior to Buffy's, therefore the blonde slayer would not choose to notice. Anya tried to return her nervous attention to the tension at hand. "I have a partner in the ownership of the Magic Box, and it would be in her best interest to also know of what certain, sensitive stock we have on hand that is being sold."

"Anya, we're the Slayers," Buffy frowned up at the ex-demon. "You are supposed to look the other way when we buy illegal stinky stuff."

"Didn't you just hear what I said?" Anya exclaimed. "I have a partner to answer to now. Willow and I are the co-owners of the Magic Box!" she announced proudly.

Anya beamed, and waited for the expected congratulations on her capitalist achievement. Instead, two pairs of eyes stared intensely back at her.

"And Anya," Anya added helpfully, realizing that the blonde Slayer was in her typical 'I am strong but slow of brain' mode. Again, she waited for her deserved praise.

"I understand," she called out from behind her counter as Kendra negotiated the steps with Buffy's wheelchair, the blonde Slayer watching from where the Jamaican had placed her on the steps. "You are probably going to the card store to find the correct card of congratulations. That would be very appropriate, you know, for a 'life step' like this. Ownership. Oprah said so. Or was that Martha Stewart," Anya added, more to herself. She heard the bell jingle behind the departing Slayers. "Make it a pretty card!" Anya bade them.

As soon as she saw the Slayers move out of range of her windows, the store owner – most deserving of a congratulatory card, Anya personally concluded – pulled out her store phone. She quickly dialed the number to Willow's cell phone.

Willow's tongue was busy wrestling wetly with the gold nipple ring at her Kitten's bared breast. Her hand fondled the other pretty ring as her tongue worked. She suddenly sucked in the lovely, turgid node beneath her hungry mouth, ring and all.

"MMPH! Will – Willow – !!" Kitten gasped above her. One hand gripped the headboard and the other was tangled in Willow's hair. They were in Kitten's dorm room. After her nightmare, the vampire did not want to remain at the mansion and instead accompanied Kitten back to campus. She stayed in Kitten's room until her witch finished with afternoon classes. She practically attacked Kitten when she finally returned. A ravishment was exactly what she wanted to do to her girl.

Her cell phone jingled merrily. Willow was vaguely surprised by the fact that she had even heard it, her head so filled with the gorgeous, aroused sounds Kitten was making and the lush beat of her hot blood. The hand not fondling her witch's breast now shoved her girl's skirt up. She took hold of the cotton panties and whipped her arm back, hearing the satisfying rip of fabric.

Her own knees pushed apart Kitten's as she rose briefly up and tongue wrestled the other gold nipple ring that had been neglected of her mouth's touch. She easily pushed a few fingers into her wet, hot girl.

"RARRRRRRR," Willow growled suddenly, her concentration finally broken as her mouth left her witch's breast. She halfheartedly pumped her fingers a few times more into Kitten's wonderful pussy. Her stupid, busy mind could not help wondering who was insistently trying to call her, and for whatever apparently urgent reason. The demon in her roared, forget it!! Keep fucking your Kitten! While her more mature Master side forcefully dragged her raging attention away from the luscious, writhing subject at groping hand. Willow growled one more time in loud defeat, and reluctantly stilled her questing fingers in Kitten's delightfully tight channel.

"I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry I'm sorry," she murmured, kissing Kitten's hot face all over as her free hand reached blindly for her phone. Before she answered her constantly singing phone, however, Willow decided to take a moment to fill her dead lungs repeatedly with slow inhales and exhales of air, simulating calming breaths. Beneath her, Kitten writhed and pushed up against her stilled hand, whimpering. Willow, feeling relatively calm finally, pressed her lips once more to Kitten's forehead before answering her phone.

"Willow!" she heard Anya's excited voice exclaim. "I need to give you the list! Before I forget most of it! But I think I already have. I think I forgot most of it when I had to recall your phone number – "

"Anya," Willow interrupted calmly, a little personally proud at the nice bit of detachment she had managed to construct for herself in order to deal with this phone call – at least temporarily. "Explain from the beginning, please."

As Willow slowly coaxed Anya's story from her, the vampire idly sat back on her heels. Her spread knees continued to keep her own witch's lovely bared legs spread apart as well. Kitten looked utterly debauched, yet smoldering in her sexual frustration, as she lay breathing heavily on the bed before Willow's lusty perusal. Her blouse was torn open, the ragged fabric framing her witch's breasts and their well sucked nipples. Her skirt was bunched up high over a bared, curvaceous pelvis and a swollen, wet sex. A beautiful, slick sex that was currently housing Willow's fingers quite nicely, and snugly. Willow grinned and flexed her hand to reach further inside. Kitten quickly pressed her arm to her mouth.

"Anya," Willow finally said, deciding she felt firmly in enough control to resume fucking her sweet Kitty again. She began pumping her hand. "Do you still have that pad of paper?....Try this then. Take a pencil, hold it sideways and begin to shade the paper lightly...."

As Willow listened to Anya babble about how she was handling her pencil, she watched how her own hand was handling her Kitten. Her poor girl was blushing, but was already lost to her own wantonness. Her hips moved off the bed to meet the thrust of Willow's hand.

"Both hands on the headboard. Do it for me, baby," Willow instructed softly. With a frustrated sound, Kitten did as she was asked, both hands rising to clutch desperately at the board. Willow thrust even harder, watching her witch's delicious tits bounce.

"I got it I got it!" she heard Anya squeal into the phone at her first successful attempt at revealing written impressions from a supposedly blank sheet of paper. Oh I got it all right, Willow's lust addled brain thought in moronic fashion to itself, as she stared at what she was doing to her very juicy Kitten. Glistening inner thighs danced before her appreciative eyes. "Would you like to hear the list now?"

"Or would you like to finish your sex with Tara?" Anya inquired, obviously recognizing what the wet, frantic sound was.

"Oh, text message some of it to me with your new cell phone," Willow suggested distractedly, realizing that Kitten was getting increasingly frustrated against the slick pistoning of her hand. "....You've never done that before?...Well then, see, now you can learn. And email me the complete copy – send it to Puppy. Uh huh. Just like we discussed, with the special header and everything. He'll access it right away and run it through the database. Uh huh.....yes. You're so wonderful, Anya," Willow gave sweetly, and she could practically feel her shop partner beam right through the phone. "Tell you what, let's have dinner later. Yes, you, me, Kitten, and see if Delia will come too. Yes. Seven. Okay, see you then, bye bye, Anya."

Willow immediately tossed the phone and buried her face right into Kitten's frantically thrusting, needy mound. Against the rough, rhythmic shove of her tongue and fingers, she finally felt her witch cum hard with a scream.

Ten minutes later, Willow collapsed on top of Kitten, her witch's thigh still firmly wedged between her legs. She felt Kitten's pussy clench hard around her fingers once more.

"Ugh WilWilWilWilWillow – " her witch raggedly gasped. Her muscles practically ground Willow's fingers again. I can die like this, the vampire thought happily, as Kitten panted beneath her. She heard her phone give a little alerting jingle from the floor. Anya's text message.

Five minutes later, Willow had her arms wrapped around her boneless Kitten, and was gently massaging the huge bruise on her witch's face with her tongue. Kitten had to use a glamour spell to hide it, since the healing spell would not rid her face entirely of the glaring evidence of Willow's carelessness until tomorrow. They were going to have dinner tonight at Giano's, and vampires and certain demons could easily see past a glamour. Willow utterly detested the idea that other demons would get the impression that she liked marking her Kitten's face. Obvious marks were cheap and vulgar. She continued to lick the bruise.

"Sleepy, Kitten?" Willow whispered, peering down finally and seeing Kitten's wonderful, thick lashes gracing her cheeks. Kitten murmured incoherently and cuddled closer. Willow felt deliciously sated as well, but did not want to doze. She caught sight of her phone lying on the floor.

A bit of magic, and it sailed up into her hand. Very carefully, without disturbing Kitten, Willow accessed Anya's text message. What her searching eyes read made her go utterly still.

"What's wrong?" she heard Kitten breath against her throat, having felt her body's change. Willow glanced down briefly and saw her witch's blue eyes flutter open.

"Nothing baby, it just looks like the Slayers are up to something," Willow answered thoughtfully. She turned her phone's screen so that Kitten could read what it said. It listed only the names of two plants, but it was enough.

"Those," Kitten frowned, as she stared at the words. "Those are used in curare."

"Yes, baby," Willow acknowledged, proud of her witch. The plants were South American, but apparently Kitten's knowledge of plants went a little beyond the usual magical herbs. Curare was another name for the mixture of certain deadly plants used as a paralytic agent for Amazonian blow darts.

"Buffy and Kendra want that?" her girl questioned softly, biting her lip as she regarded the phone screen. Willow kissed her forehead, and shut the phone off. She tossed it away.

"Don't worry your pretty head, Kitten," she comforted. "Willow will take care of it."

"Mm," was all Kitten murmured in response. She returned to snuggling against the vampire again.

"She owns the Magic Box," Buffy said distractedly, as she pushed her wheels along. "She owns the Magic Box."

And now Anya's working for her too, her mocking brain chose to add, interrupting the Slayer's penchant for simple repetition of newly discovered facts.

"Where else can we go for these?" Kendra simply asked, indicating her 'erb list and easily ignoring Buffy's repetitiveness. Apparently, the Jamaican Slayer was not phased by the fact that they had possibly lost a rather helpful aide to the White Hat team. Buffy stopped her chair and sighed.

"Giles knows the magic shops in L.A.," the blonde Slayer said. "We're just delayed some more, now that magic supplies are cut off on our home turf." She saw her fellow Slayer lift an eyebrow at that. "I know," Buffy said hastily. "We can still use the Magic Box, it's just that now Willow will know about everything we buy, even if it has nothing to do with her and all to do with some other Bad thing we're fighting. It's just weird, and – " Buffy struck her chair's arm rests in frustration. Thankfully she didn't hit them at even a tiny percentage of Slayer strength. " – It's so darn sneaky of her!"

That's my Wills, Buffy thought sourly. Buffy the muscle, Willow the brains. And now here she and Ken' were, two muscles and no brains (wait a minute! her own brain weakly protested). Counting Larry, and maybe even Angel, that was four muscles. Giles, Buffy belatedly remembered, did count as a brain (yay, home team!). And Amy and Oz could be counted on for....different kind of muscles. Magic muscles, and...wolfy dedication. The blonde Slayer attempted to mentally outline who was on her side of the playing field, and who was now known to be on Willow's side. It wasn't until they were absent from her own team that Buffy suddenly realized the actual value of Tara, Anya, and, well, even May Queen Cordelia.

Besides the fact that Tara saved my life! Buffy thought in frustration, regretting yet again the lost of the gentle witch. Gaaaaah!!

"Yah mon, de Wicked's a smart one," Kendra agreed. She took hold of Buffy's chair handles to get them moving again, since Buffy forgot to work her chair and think at the same time. "De sooner we stake her, the better."

Buffy groaned. And here was Ken', with the one track mind. She wanted to let out another groan when she realized they had reached her mom's art gallery door. There was the matter of resolving – somewhat – the argument begun this morning. She knew Mom could spot them through the windows, if she was looking their way.

Kendra maintained her steely demeanor but there was the twinkle of mirth in her dark eyes. She gave Buffy an actual firm grip on the arm.

"Be brave," her sister Slayer lightly advised. "I have to go and do what's on de top of yer list – 'kill stuff', mon." And with that, Ken' turned and jogged off into the rapidly descending dusk. Since it was winter, the nights arrived far earlier. The slaying was busier during the long winter nights. Buffy watched Kendra go, wishing she could follow.

"A gift, from the table there," the waiter politely indicated with a nod of his head as he showed Willow the bottle. She, Kitten, Anya, and Delia, were seated at her usual booth table at Giano's.

"I accept," Willow acknowledged. Once the very fresh blood was poured into a glass, Willow raised it in the direction of the table the gift had originated from. The well dressed woman seated at the table raised her own glass in return.

"Who's that?" Cordelia immediately inquired. The woman looked to be in her late thirties, very classy looking, in a very Jackie Kennedy manner. Cordy realized her own mother would have found this particular woman an understated fashion maven after her own haute couture heart – without the two people with pet collars kneeling beneath her table, however.

"That's Heloise, the bleeder's club owner," Willow informed with a smirk, as she enjoyed her wine glass of blood. "I had her competition staked."

"Heloise?" Cordy commented. That poor woman, she thought. No wait, she reminded herself. A name like 'Buffy' was far worse.

Willow swallowed, then licked the rim of her glass. "I think she was Turned during the fifties," she finally said.

"Perhaps she likes Doris Day too," Anya remarked, having finally learned a little bit more about the movie star icon after reading the cd jacket to the song she now knew by heart. Tara and Willow only looked at the ex-demon, slightly baffled.

"Are those two human?" Cordy then asked, referring to the two with pet collars. She was still staring at Heloise's table, impolite as such an open stare was. The young, pretty girl kneeling at Heloise's feet was resting affectionately against the vampire's legs (real silk stockings, Cordy noted. Had to be), while the young man was happily accepting treats from Heloise's beautifully manicured hand. Suddenly, the very same dish the Jackie vampire was feeding her boy with, made an appearance at Willow's table as well. The waiter set down the large platter of fried calamari with a flourish.

Anya squealed, Tara grinned, and Willow smiled indulgently at her – 'Pet', Cordy reminded herself, having read probably only a fourth of the way through that book about vampire families, before she and Anya had to get ready for dinner. 'Human Agent', Cordy mentally pointed at herself; 'Pet', Cordy assessed, looking at Tara; 'Master', she determined slowly, watching a grinning Willow accept some calamari from Tara's fork. Pronouncing 'master' when it was connected to herself gave Cordy's brain a slight mental stumble. God, what a hard word to say! she thought.

And actual human 'Business Partner', Cordy concluded, as she turned her attention to Anya and the expressive way the former demon was savoring each bite of the entree. Cordelia couldn't help the slightest twinge of jealousy. Anya, though, with her hard earned monetary assets, was certainly deserving of more 'status' with Willow than the penniless Chase. Also, the ex-demon had a thousand years of experience to bring to Willow's family; Cordy was understandably uncertain as to what exactly she brought of value to Willow. Maybe just her damn good looks and Bitch attitude.

"I'm sorry, Delia, you were asking?" Willow addressed, finally turning her attention away from Tara.

"It's all right, I figured it out," Cordy answered. "I'm just glad you don't keep Tara under the table."

The dark blonde coughed suddenly, her face turning a bright red. Anya helpfully smacked her back.

"Deeelia," Willow playfully cajoled. She had a fork raised to Cordelia's mouth, with its succulent offering of perfectly fried calamari. "I like my Kittens right here, with me," she grinned.

"Just remember, I'm not your Pet, sweetie," Cordy answered with deceptive sugar in her tone. She leaned forward and gracefully accepted Willow's offer of food. In another time and place, she would have scornfully dismissed such a patronizing gesture on the vampire's part – if she still valued pride more than staying alive. Eyes still on Willow as her lips slipped off the fork, Cordy was startled to spot lusty possessiveness flaring in the redhead's bright green depths. Lust was something she had often seen in the eyes of countless boys; such salacious, objectifying gazes. In some cases, the gaze was blindingly, stupidly worshipful, caught up in some ideal construct of her. But Willow's eyes were like Xander's at his most unguarded. They seemed to really see her; see her and know her; weak, foolish, fearful Cordy and beautiful, mean, stupid queen Cordy. They really saw her and still...wanted what they saw.

The vampire Willow stared unblinkingly at Cordelia as the brunette attempted to chew what was in her mouth and also digest her sudden revelation. Willow hardly bothered to hide nor tone down her frankly appreciative gaze. The vampire then leaned back into Tara, turning her head so that her mouth met the dark blonde's offered ear. She whispered into it and Cordelia watched as Tara's wide mouth slipped up into that appealing half-grin she had. The witch raised heavy lidded eyes to Cordy, and the brunette reminded herself of how stunning Tara's blue eyes could be sometimes, especially when they were the deep blue pools they were now. She wondered briefly what the heck Willow was saying to Tara, to make her look so thoughtfully at Cordelia like that.

"Maybe you should reconsider," she heard Anya say in her direction, and Cordelia tore her attention from Tara's distracting eyes to focus on her housemate. Anya was sipping her red and had apparently been watching the three of them quite avidly. "Willow knows how to keep a happy Pet. Sex with her can be quite enthusiastic, and therefore satisfying, from what I heard over the phone this evening."

"Really," Cordy slowly answered as her eyes returned to Tara, noting the bright reappearance of her blush and Willow's huge, proud leer. Tara's acute embarrassment got the best of her and she hid her face in Willow's shoulder. "I don't think I need to be Will's little Pet to get some of that, Anya," Cordelia declared.

"Oh Delia," Willow pouted cutely at her, even as she ran her hand soothingly in Tara's hair. "You tease."

And thankfully, before Anya could answer with whether she agreed, or disagreed, with Cordelia's cheeky comment, the main courses finally arrived.

"So you want to argue about how you want to keep everyone else safe? Well, how about my wanting you to be safe too," Joyce retorted, arms folded. It was very unfair advantage, but Joyce was using the fact that she can tower over her poor wheelchair bound daughter in order to press her position.

"I will be safe," Buffy protested, as she reached helpfully into a big wooden crate to dead lift a rather ugly looking statuette out of the packing straw. Ewww, her brain remarked, upon examining the squatty, naked, and entirely unattractive body of the statuette. I wonder if Mom will be able to sell these, Buffy grimaced to herself. I hope so, because you're going to be paying for my new chair, guys. She put it carefully down next to its ugly brother.

It was after hours for her Mom's gallery, so now she was helping her mother unpack some inventory shipments. "I'm coach Buffy. Ken's mentor buddy. I'm practically a Watcher now," the Slayer added brightly, hoping her mother would neglect to point out that Buffy did not wear glasses, nor read books on an hourly basis, much less daily. Or weekly.

"You mean you'll be like Magic Johnson, retire and support the team," Joyce remarked.

"I like Magic, he's doing wonders for his community. I understand what you're trying to tell me, honey, but I don't think running around with something that looks vaguely like a flute is what a Slayer coach should be doing."

"What? How'd? I hid that!" Buffy exclaimed, nearly dropping the third ugly statuette. Joyce reached down and helped Buffy settle it to the floor.

"And I made your bed this morning, silly. It slipped out of the mattress. I deal with tribal art and artifacts, I know an Amazonian blow gun, even a shortened one, when I see one." Joyce threw up her hands and finally sighed. She flopped back into her office chair. "God, I hate your life."

Buffy sighed too, and felt that familiar contrite feeling, whenever her Slayer life made Mom unhappy. There were lots and lots of times when she hated it too.

So do like Mom really wants, one side of her brain urged. Retire for real and have that wedding and kids and happy, long life that she hopes for you. Buffy allowed the other half of her brain – the 'Dark' half – to have its rebuttal. In typical Slayer fashion, it ended the debate by rising up and merely staking the 'Good' side of her brain.

"It's just so hard to sit at home," she finally confessed. "I need to – " Kill. "I need to help. I can help."

Joyce stared at her daughter, her blue eyes expressing every known fear and concern – anger and frustration – she had tried not to feel, practically every night since learning of Buffy's calling. I'm going to need a bubble bath tonight, she finally thought wearily to herself. A nice, long bubble bath, and a very good bottle of wine.

"Coach Buffy," her daughter too readily agreed. "I won't do anything Giles won't do," she assured with conviction.

"If you think it's curare, then they obviously intend to assassinate Willow," Anya declared.

"W-W-Willow says it's fine," Tara hurriedly stammered, wishing Anya had not brought the subject up. The former demon was voicing the blonde witch's exact, personal fear, after seeing the names of the two plant ingredients. She glanced nervously at Willow beside her, who seemed to be ignoring the conversation and was lazily petting Tara's hair. "S-She'll take care of it, we don't have to worry."

"A homemade paralytic drug, an easy to conceal blow gun weapon," Anya added, not bothering to finish her sentence as she shrugged. She chewed another forkful of ravioli. "As long as they're not aiming it at me, or my business partner. If they were allowed to carry tranquilizer rifles, it would certainly be an easier job of slaying for them. I understand that we 'children' – " Anya emphasized with one hand making the 'quote' mark in the air. "Are not allowed to carry weapons in public, but when a girl runs out of milk for her hot chocolate, which she desperately needs for its 'that time of month' healing qualities, why shouldn't she carry an ax to the grocery store? It was night, and it was a small ax!"

"What's this now? The Slayers came into the shop to try to buy what?" Cordelia interrupted, attempting to backtrack this weird conversation, which had lost her the moment Anya had begun speaking. She wasn't sure what was making Tara look worried, even though Willow didn't seem to be that concerned at all. The vampire actually had her cool, lidded eyed attention elsewhere.

That cute guy on the far side, but just a little behind my shoulder, Cordy guessed. Jerk, the brunette mentally added, having already concluded, via the eyes in the back of her head (pretend ones, not possible real ones, as this was the Hellmouth), that his staring attention equaled creep factor in the Queen's book. Cordy dismissed the guy and double focused her own attention to what Anya was rapidly relating.

Handsome devil, Willow assessed idly, as the newly arrived vampire seated across the restaurant floor trailed his appreciative, dark eyes from Anya, to Kitten, then rested for quite a while on Delia's profile. He thinks because I have three human women at my table, I might feel generous and 'lend' him one, she silently concluded. Willow's hand continued to pet and play with Kitten's hair as her witch ate, and the handsome vampire finally met her green eyes.

Gorgeous, aristocratic, good looks. The man was quite drop dead handsome; a pedigreed beauty, certainly. Willow was surprised that Delia had not given the male a second glance, as such a 'catch', in the past, would have been right up her Chase alley. Instead, Miss Chase had a serious, concentrated look upon her face, and seemed focused on what Anya was nattering on about. Willow remembered that look of Delia's; she'd only allow it to appear on her model perfect face when she was studying, or contemplating something as vital as choosing the correct eye shadow to complement her clothes. The male across the restaurant floor gave a sly grin. He lightly touched his face, at the well cut cheekbone.

Pretty, he mouthed at Willow. He was referring to the glamoured bruise on Kitten's face.

"Delia," Willow suddenly said. "Your lips need touching up," she remarked. She made the tone of her soft voice sound just this side of slightly reproachful. Delia actually gasped and one of her perfectly tanned hands shot to her lips. Someone's treated herself to the tanning salon, Willow observed smugly, once again appreciating Delia's lovely skin shade.

Cordelia, for her part, could not believe that during the main course she had not done the required 'bathroom break'. If her lips needed touching up now, she was off her own 'lipstick reapply schedule' by ten minutes. She stood up.

"Anya, come with me," she demanded of the blonde ex-demon, who was in mid-forkful.

"Kitten, go with," Willow encouraged, and when she looked at her Kitten she saw her witch glance warily at the male vampire seated across the way. She must have seen his message, Willow snarled to herself angrily. The redhead kept her tone light. "Delia is used to having an entourage to the ladies room," she added playfully.

Kitten smiled at her, and slid willingly from the booth to join Anya and an impatient Delia. Once her girls were out of sight, Willow smiled at the watching male and casually motioned him over. He got up and approached, an affected nonchalance to his slow stride and a cool arrogance to his well dressed bearing.

How St. Tropez, Willow mentally sneered, referring to one of the more chic, jet set beach spots of Provence.

"Lovely pets," he remarked, as he stood before Willow's table. "I am Juan." He smoothly accepted Willow's offered hand, and kissed it. "I am merely passing through town. On my way to San Paolo. Would you care to join me, beautiful one?"

He is half my age, Willow surmised, as Juan stared with a vampire's unblinking charm into her eyes. That's why he's so stupid.

"Juan, I am Willow," the redhead finally replied charmingly. "And I am Master of this town," she remarked, looking up at Juan with just the slightest pout, as if he had disappointed her. To the younger vampire's credit, his handsome eyes widened in disbelieving fear. Oh Juan, Willow mentally chastised. Such a faux pas you have made.

"So I'm sure you'll understand, my beautiful man," she added breathlessly. "Why I have to do this." And Willow suddenly slid down in her seat and shot her leg up beneath the table. The patrons of the second floor of Giano's watched with avid interest as Juan suddenly leapt two feet into the air, Willow's foot firmly planted between his legs.

"GHAWW," he exhaled, as he slammed back down, cheek first, into Willow's table. Spittle flew from his lips as he clutched desperately between his legs. He was cross eyed.

Willow quietly drained her wine glass and set it down near Juan's head. He continued to exhale desperately.

"Coveting a Master's Pet....how crude of you," she chastised. She lifted the young vampire's head up by the hair. The creak of chairs and upholstery could be heard as everyone on the second floor leaned in to watch what would happen next.

"And your face was so pretty, Juan," Willow added forlornly. With a vicious thrust of her arm, she rammed Juan's face down into her wine glass, shattering it.

Anya thought she heard something happening outside as she checked the fall of her dress in the restroom suite's three sided mirror. She went to peek out the ladies' room door. Cordy absentmindedly noted Anya's move to the exit. She checked the shape of her lips in the mirror, one more time. When she heard Anya gasp loudly and then disappear, Cordy had to race Tara out the door to find out what was the matter.

They stopped beside Anya, who was standing behind the potted palms, watching their table. A man, obviously in great agony and with the right side of his face dripping blood, was being lifted quickly from their table. Several servers proceeded to clear the table off as the injured man and his escorts disappeared through the serving entrance. Willow sat sprawled upon the red upholstery, smoking a fresh cigarette.

"Did Willow just...hurt him?" the brunette asked stiffly, as she watched the casually smoking redhead. The servers were replacing the white table cloth. Anya nodded, and Tara only worried her bottom lip. "Because he was staring at us?"

"Oh yes," Anya affirmed. "He wouldn't have stared if he only let himself suspect that she was the Master, but no. Quite foolish," she concluded. The table now freshly laid out with new water glasses, and Anya's wine and Willow's blood having hurriedly been replaced, the ex-demon finally made a move to return to the table.

"What if he had been someone I liked?" Cordy demanded, as she followed Anya. "That's not a typical 'Master' reaction, is it?"

"Yes, only to vampires," Anya affirmed, and Willow rose from her seat to greet them. "I didn't get to finish that plate," Anya then complained to Willow. The vampire reached over to take Tara's hand and lead her into the booth to sit by her again. Anya slid in next to Tara, and Cordy, a little slowly, returned to her seat beside Willow.

"I apologize," Willow answered simply, her smirk quite serene. She took a drag on her cigarette and then blew up into the restaurant air. Her half closed, green eyes slid easily from Anya, to Tara, and then to Cordelia.

"That shade suits you, Delia," Willow said softly, and raised the sweet smelling cigarette to her lips once more. Before Cordelia could think of an answer, Willow returned her attention to the rest of the table.

Anya eagerly picked up the dessert menu. Willow slid her eyes to Cordelia again.

"Dessert, Delia?" she asked, watching her. Cordelia had the instinctive feeling she was not meant to say 'no'. She did something she never would do when someone's attention was on her; she broke eye contact and looked at someone else – Tara.

Tara was staring rather blankly at the spot on the new table cloth where that young man's mangled face had been.

"That was no fun," Ken complained. Harm scowled at her second oldest minion. Ken could be such a cry baby. "I still want them dead."

They were standing watching the Main Street nightlife, two unconscious humans slumped in the alley behind them. Harmony was taking her first two kids out to learn the hunting technique of how not to drain a victim dry. If she didn't succeed in training all her kids, Cordy would kick them out of Chase mansion, and Willow would certainly dust their loser behinds, Lieutenant Harm included. Harmony decided to stare out into the street and ignore Ken's complaints.

"Troy's doing really well," she merely said. Her boy Troy grinned beside her, his dark boyish looks brightening into that sexy charm that almost made him resemble Tom Cruise. Troy was actually taking to the whole seduction, no-killing thing really well. Harm's attempt at reverse psychology worked on Ken. He growled darkly on the other side of Harm.

"I like it," Troy declared, further igniting Ken's jealous ire. "It's cool. I got the power of death, and they know it. They get so turned on while I'm sucking on them, they start to want it. My power. But I'm like denying it." Ken quit growling to try to digest what his minion brother was saying. "Now I'm thinking," Troy continued. "I can keep revisiting the same prey I've been sucking on. They'll want more. I'll even fuck them. They'll be my slaves." Harm smiled. Troy really knew how to think. He was, besides perhaps Barry, her most adaptable minion.

"Take your hunt a street over!" Harm barked as she followed her now determined boy. "K-Slayer's probably due to come back down this street," she added, and kept her wary senses open for the Robo Slayer.

"What do you think she's doing?" Buffy asked. "Cordy says she wants to reopen the Bronze as a club, and now she buys the Magic Box too. What is that all about? Why own stuff? How does this fit into taking over the town and terrorizing the living?"

"You don't know if she wants to take over the town," Angel replied, slowly moving Buffy's paralyzed legs through its exercises. He's so gentle, Buffy thought, watching him from where she lay on her living room floor. He tries so hard.

Kendra had long since disappeared to patrol after dinner, and Angel had finally braved an appearance at the Summers' front door. Buffy was just glad that Mom was civil – which she always was, of course. Angel, however, always seemed to look constipated in Mom's presence, for whatever private reason.

"Okay then, think like a Master vampire, why would you do what she's doing?" Buffy tried. She knew that was pushing it; Angel did not like to think about, much less recall, anything that had to do with his very evil vampire past. However, Willow was an issue they really needed to figure out, so Angel's intimate understanding was vital.

Angel continued to move Buffy's legs through the motions the physical therapist had taught him and Kendra. After a while, the blonde Slayer wondered if she had pushed him too far.

"I'd do all that to be respectable," Angel finally said. Buffy's hazel eyes grew wide, utterly incredulous. Did he say, 'respectable'? That, and the word 'evil' didn't exactly a synonym make. Hey! she thought excitedly to herself. She used 'synonym' correctly! Now if only she would remember that so she could get it right on her SATs.

Angel's dark eyes caught hers. "I know that sounds strange, but demons that like to stick around in comfort for a long time put down roots, so to speak. Not all of them are into killing sprees and...making trouble. Like how certain human criminals exist in yo – in our world. They remain there in the dark world, doing their dark business. It's..." Angel raised his eyebrows, as if to shrug. "It's like they mind their own business. Until you cross them."

"Like the mafia?" Buffy frowned. Gee, Mom's analogy was right, the blonde Slayer thought to herself. But no matter how low key other mafia'ish vamp groups may be in other cities, on the Hellmouth, a Slayer can be certain a powerful vamp wasn't going to just settle with happily selling magic supplies or hosting disco nights. Willow might not be bent on enslaving the town right now, but low key evil was still evil. "She's still bad though," she determined.

"Yes," Angel agreed quietly, moving Buffy's legs into a different set of exercises. Whatever further thoughts he had about his grandchilde, Angel did not speak them, his brooding eyes giving nothing away. Buffy watched him a while, content to just lay on Mom's yoga mat. She couldn't contribute anything to the exercise except watch.

"Why won't you go talk to her again, like Giles suggested?" she asked softly. She watched Angel's deep, brown eyes grow even darker. "You and he seem all for this, semi, 'truce' thing, but you haven't exactly volunteered to help with it. We can't even try it unless someone makes a move, and you're our best way to approaching her, Angel."

Angel gently laid Buffy's legs down on the mat, and straightened them out. His large hands smoothed down the soft fabric of the sweat pants she wore. His actions looked so tender, and Buffy wished she could actually feel the gentle press of his hands. When he finally spoke, it was strained.

"I can't just talk to her," he revealed, the words obviously causing him pain. "Vampire to vampire, I'd have to take on the role...again. I'd have to choose, and I don't want the family I left. I want to be here. With your family.

In the dining area, Joyce rolled her eyes and listened intently for a little longer, then leaned back into the chair she was nearly tipping over. She returned her attention to the gallery paperwork she had spread out on the dining table. Great, Joyce allowed herself to briefly complain, before setting the 'Angel' problem on a back burner in her mind. A 240 year old vampire and her baby girl. Just great.

Willow rifled through Anya's bureau, then perused the sparse countertop. She went to the closet and opened it. She and her girls had returned to Chase mansion after dinner. Delia immediately excused herself, while Kitten and Anya got busy in the kitchen, preparing the ex-demon for her first cooking lesson in order to familiarize the shop owner with appliances like the stove. The lesson: how to boil an egg. Willow decided to leave them be and do what was natural for a curious vampire. She went upstairs to the 'human' wing and thoroughly went about finding out every personal thing concerning the other two humans in her Family.

Willow ran a hand along Anya's hung clothes. Her other hand fluttered over the presence of each pair of shoes, set like pretty soldiers on the closet's walk in floor. What the ex-demon possessed in clothing only filled one fourth of her given closet space. Anya, as her under delicates drawer clearly indicated, was very fond of beautiful, and therefore quality items. There were some modest choices of underwear beneath the fine lace and satin sets, but Willow suspected that they were remnants of Anya's once very humble beginnings as a new human. The equally simple, practically drab clothing hung in the back of the closet also attested to that fact.

Like her prettier delicates, the rest of Anya's clothes and shoes were very nice, but also very few. She invested well in her clothes but was utterly practical when it came to other possessions. The few books stacked by her bed were borrowed from the library, as were the vcr tapes. Her t.v. and vcr player were second hand, as was her radio. Even her copies of Cosmopolitan were library borrowed, although the newest issue, Willow suspected, belonged to Cordelia. But when it came to personal items, especially those a woman would appreciate and always enjoy, Anya made careful choices.

Her hairbrush, a restored, silver handled antique of possible art nouveau origin, was one such indulgence. The 1930's crystal atomizer in her bathroom was another. The intricate lace doily adorning her nightstand was most definitely vintage and one that, when Willow dared to nibble on it, tasted on her tongue very much like Mummy's true Victorian originals. Anya really liked beautiful things.

Willow pulled out the nightstand drawer and fished out the box that held that distinct scent of gun oil, which her little vampire nose had easily tracked. She opened it. A .38 revolver. Very practical. So was the modest cache of a passport book, several fake i.d.s (some of very questionable workmanship, Willow criticized), several credit cards (virgin accounts, Willow guessed), and a roll of cash. All the girl needed was an actual getaway car. And a possible out of state bolt hole.

Willow put back the items she found, shut the nightstand neatly, and as she made one more pass around Anya's new room, lightly brushed her fingers over the ex-demon's neatly laid pile of magic supply catalogues, inventory slips, and the legal pad containing, in Anya's feminine hand, all her notes and analysis about marketing, product, and possible high selling seasons. Willow exited Anya's room.

She sauntered easily down the hallway, and found Cordelia's bedroom, the door left ajar. Before she entered, she stood a moment and assessed the sounds of the house.

Two heartbeats in the kitchen area; Anya's and Kitten's. Some violent, military video game was being played quite enthusiastically in the minions wing. Harm was not in the house. Willow ended her aural reconnaissance and moved to Delia's doorway. The brunette was reclined atop her queen size bed, several old books strewn on the coverlet. She was intently reading one, that cute frown of concentration on her face. Willow grinned and glided silently into the room. If she were very quiet, she'd be able to poke around for quite a bit before Delia became aware of her presence.

Cordelia made a derisive sound with her lips. God, like it wasn't so apparent already that this book was written by some old geezer guy – hadn't he heard of Darla?? Cordy sighed, and continued reading. Although she knew this stuff already – from the other book she had started this afternoon – she'd hoped that this one would talk a bit more about how vamps interacted with each other. Like, was face crushing the kind of public reaction Cordy should be expecting from now on?

Yikes, Cordelia mentally exclaimed. Remind me not to come to your rescue when you become some vamp's man-bitch, buster.

That's not true, Cordy thought. Willow wasn't a 'clan'. Willow was just bad ass Willow. What did Anya call her? A 'Black Magic Mama'. She didn't have minions running out of her ears. Or childer. Or...mates. Her 'household' was pretty darn small, when one thought about it.

"God," Cordy exhaled outloud. "This guy needs to be dragged into the twenty first century." She looked down at the pile of books on her bed. She had been skipping around in her perusal, which was not good, but these books were really dry reading. Cordy could practically feel the need for moisturizer already. And eye drops. She was also getting something of a clue; she'll end up reading these highly unentertaining books for what she can get out of them, but obviously no one had yet written a book that can explain Willow.

"Maybe I should read Anne Rice instead," she muttered, looking through the chapter list one more time of Mr. 'Let the slave die'. "At least there would be cute guys."

"Yes, but you really shouldn't, there are hardly any cute women," Cordy heard Willow say.

Cordy shrieked, and tossed her outdated book into the air. There, knelt Willow on her bedroom floor, with both her hands deep inside her underwear drawer.

Tara and Anya, below in the kitchen, paused in their shelling of hard boiled eggs, and stared at each other.

"Okay," Willow pouted. She slowly pulled out her guilty hands but came away with a very skimpy, satin g-string. She held it up, admiring it.

"Victoria Secret!" she exclaimed in frank admiration, and not, Cordy angrily determined, with the kind of admiration a straight female might regard such underwear.

"Willow," Cordy grated through clenched teeth. "What are you doing in my room?" The vampire, to the brunette's indignation, closed her underwear drawer, only to open the top drawer, which held all her cosmetics – and Cordy had collected alot of cosmetics.

"Looking," Willow merely said. Anya had only been human for over a year, Willow mused to herself. In Delia's room was all the scattered clutter of a girl who had moved through her formative teen years. Delia had been packing; the boxes lining her large room's floor were filled with items she obviously wished discarded. From clothes to knick knacks, Delia was in the process of shedding possessions, but not memories. All about the room, Willow could easily spot items that had been set aside for meaningful value alone, things mysteriously precious only to the brunette. The energies of her bedroom were of transformation; an old Delia being removed to make way for a new woman. At the very core, however, remained those things that made Delia constant and true.

Willow smiled to herself, as she idly counted the rich, loose pile of lipsticks rolling in their assigned subsection of the drawer. Delia, whether child or woman, was definitely constant in her passionate love of make up.

"Pretty," Willow murmured, uncapping one expensive brand and admiring the gorgeous, red shade.

Cordelia sighed loudly on the bed. She just could not stay mad at Willow for long. The girl was a vampire after all, and if Will was so intent on snooping, better now when Cordy can watch her, rather than try to kick the redhead out, only to find the vampire back in her room later. Cordelia wasn't dense; she already surmised that whatever Willow decided she wanted to do, she'll do, even if it was something as pervy as check out her underwear drawer again.

"I've always wanted to give you a make over," Cordy suddenly said, as she watched Willow pull out about five different lipsticks.

"You wanted to play with my face, Delia?" Willow smirked at her. The redhead was picking through lots of different shades of bright red, Cordy realized. Against her pale skin, they would look great, but the range Willow was assembling looked familiar somehow....

Then Cordy recalled Tara's preferred lipstick colors, her rich, sensual reds. Of course.

"And your hair," Cordelia added. "Always wanted to style your hair. And dress you up." Willow giggled.

"Mummy liked to dress me up too," she revealed, laying the lipsticks she had finally chosen, carefully on the bureau top. She shut the cosmetics drawer. "I used to dress like her. Now I prefer a more modern look."

Cordelia didn't answer. She was caught up in sudden visions, as she took in the slim lines of Willow's body – so ideal for draping – and imagined her in all manner of soft, cut tops, slim skirts, fitted shirts, and clingy, scoop back dresses.....

Willow cocked her head and stared intently at Delia, who was staring right back, but obviously into the 'outerspace' Willow's body currently occupied. The vampire recognized that particular look of Queen Dee's; it was just as funny as her studious look, only because Delia hated when she had an expression on her face that revealed that she was more than just a pretty face. Sometimes when Delia was voraciously flipping through her latest Vogue or Elle in the school library, supposedly helping with the research, she would stop gazing at the fashion pictures and just look up and....stare.

"She's mentally dressing you, Will," Xander had helpfully whispered to the redhead, when Willow had become far too agitated by his girlfriend's stupid 'zone' mode. Willow had thought her best friend was pulling her leg, until Delia began perusing GQ, and then did her 'zone stare' on Xander.

Willow smiled. She turned to Delia's bureau and tested the small, locked drawer that was certain to contain the 'important' stuff. Delia could remain in her 'zone' for quite a while – Willow would look through the brunette's real secrets and then check out what kind of strong smelling gun was beneath Delia's bed.

Eep, thought Willow's brain. She let go of the locked drawer's handle. Her Kitten was leaning against the door frame, smiling. Anya stepped past her girl, carrying a serving tray. Willow smelled eggs, paprika, dijon, and a dash of vinegar. Ooo, deviled eggs!

"Um," Kitten said, bringing a hand up to tuck a lock of honeyed hair behind an ear. "Anya and I heard Cordelia scream earlier."

"That was quite a while ago, Kitten," Willow admitted, wide eyed. She glanced briefly at Anya, who quickly passed by with her tray and went directly to Delia on her bed. Willow heard Delia exclaim over the eggs, while Anya proudly announced that she had helped make them. Just because she was a vampire didn't mean she couldn't eat a deviled egg too, Willow pouted to herself.

"Were, were your hands really in Cordelia's panties, Willow?" she heard her witch ask ingenuously, and Willow's attention snapped from eggs to her Kitten's focused regard. Willow opened her mouth –

"And I hadn't given you permission?" Kitten added, still staring intently at the vampire. The corner of her beautiful mouth crept up, as she tried not to grin. Willow's mouth worked, unable to answer the question. She looked quickly back at Delia and Anya, who both sat on the bedspread, each with an egg half held to their open mouths. They stared wide eyed, back at the redhead.

Buffy and her Slayer group never really made it a habit to ask Joyce for her opinions or thoughts about the things they would fight, therefore she stopped trying to share them. Buffy had asked why her mother didn't tell her about Cordelia's decision, though. Frankly, the night Joyce and the brunette had dinner with Willow, Cordelia had still been mentally entangled in trying to figure it all out for herself. Joyce had felt the young woman could have gone either way, at that time. And besides, such a decision really was personal and up to Cordelia to share herself.

Buffy, of course, did not exactly keep on topic long enough for Joyce to explain all that to her.

Joyce leaned back into her bath pillow and tried to relax and enjoy her bubbles. Dawn was sleeping over at a friend's, and Angel had helpfully carried Buffy up for her bed time. Joyce didn't stick around to see him out; she had a date with luxuriously hot, steamy water, Sinatra, and a bottle of fruity red. Small talking with the noble, yet depressing, big guy wasn't worth skimping on her relaxing time. She poured herself another glass of wine and listened to Frank's smooth, knowing tones practically have sex with the steamy air.

Joyce understood Buffy's obvious upset at losing Cordelia and Anya's loyalty to her latest 'arch enemy', the vampire Willow. First, her daughter had lost her own two best friends, then her own legs, and now this. Although the former cheerleader and the shop manager – shop owner, Joyce corrected herself – hadn't really been her daughter's close friends, losing them had still hurt Buffy.

Joyce remembered vampire Willow's receptive and accommodating nature at that dinner. Cordelia was young but she obviously had the social experience to recognize facades and wouldn't easily fall for such charm – unless she wanted to. Cordelia was taking a leap of faith – or leap of denial – and Joyce wished her all luck. Anya, Joyce did not know that well, except that she did know the young girl was quite shrewd, business-wise. The Magic Box had noticeably flourished under Anya's management. Frankly, if Willow had offered to take on half the responsibility of her gallery, especially now that Buffy was disabled –

Whoa whoa whoa whoa, Joyce, she mentally exclaimed to herself. Stop right there. Buffy had just lost friends and perceives herself as having lost two more allies. Entertaining tempting business opportunity scenarios, no matter how fanciful – because she really doubted Willow would be interested in her gallery – was not going to help this emotionally charged issue.

Stupid Angel, Joyce griped. If only he and Giles would get this darn proposal of a possible truce going. Then Buffy could stop fixating and they could finally insure the co-operation of a certain some-pire. A some-pire who was fast becoming a very legitimate force in town. And rich, too.

Joyce set aside her empty wine glass, picked up her Shirley Maclaine book, and lost herself in a lurid story about the Rat Pack, easily pushing away anymore concerns about the sober, soap drama of her own Hellmouth life. Exercising her coping indulgences was far better for her mental health than dwelling on the worrisome antagonism that was growing between two very powerful, easily volatile, young girls.

Willow laid flopped on her side on Delia's thickly carpeted bedroom floor and sulked.

"She's just like a ragdoll, isn't she?" Delia pointed out to everyone. "She was always like that, since she was little. She'd look like she was collapsing when she sat down on a chair or on the sofa. It's like she never cared where she landed."

"I think it's cute," Willow heard Kitten say, from where she stood above her. Her witch's bare foot lightly toed along the vampire's pants leg. When did Kitten take off her sandals? "It's, it's a different kind of grace. It's so unself-conscious." Kitten's voice was warmly fond, and Willow had to fight to keep her eyes closed and her mouth unsmiley. She was still sulking.

After Kitten's little joke about 'permission', Delia and Anya had teased the vampire mercilessly. Actually, they were so relentless in their own witty observations concerning her and Kitten's relationship, Willow finally decided to just collapse on the floor and ignore everyone. Not a typical vampire reaction, Willow had to personally admit, where throat crushing and bone breaking would be expected – and justified, by vampire terms. But secretly, she rather enjoyed the attention. As long as Delia kept on the soft side of her mean streak and Anya did not say something too shocking to Kitten, Willow was happy to play the injured party.

"Willow, will you get up already. You can have the Shiseido if that'll make you feel better," Delia chided, referring to the quality lipstick she had noticed the vampire admiring earlier.

"I was going to take it anyway," Willow stated with a pout, eyes still closed. She felt Kitten's warm presence kneel beside her.

"Oh, now this is nice," the vampire heard Anya suddenly exclaim, accompanied by the distinct sound of a magazine's slick page being turned.

"Oh, faux alligator. That's something that'll definitely not last in the closet for next winter," Delia's voice criticized.

Willow felt Kitten's fingers soothe through her hair. Despite her commitment to a sulkfest – that was rapidly losing its value now that Delia and Anya had moved their attention from vampire baiting to glossy fashion pictures – the redhead could not help the grin that curled her lips.

Tara ran her fingers through Willow's silky hair and reveled in the soft sensation. It was something she rarely felt free to do in the presence of others, even in front of Dru. With her vampire collapsing – so funnily – on Cordelia's bedroom floor like she did, Tara thought it a good opportunity to take advantage of this unMaster-like moment and touch Willow the way she often desired to touch her. With quiet satisfaction, Tara petted Willow.

"Not mad anymore?" Tara asked softly, as she smiled down at Willow. The vampire gave a little shrug.

"I don't need permission to touch Delia's panties," Willow announced in her girlish, small voice, defiance in the arrogant, little tones. Tara grinned. "'Cept maybe when she's in 'em," the vampire allowed, grinning back.

Tara's fingers lightly tickled her vampire's ear, and Willow giggled. She knew Willow had a physical attraction for the tall brunette. They had talked about it a little, and at least the vampire was honest about it and did not try to hide it. Tara had to admit, she had admired the stunning young woman too. Cordelia had that kind of face and body that was stare-worthy, and not only that, a charismatic bearing that was deserving of second looks.

"She's tempting, isn't she, Kitten," Willow had whispered in her ear at dinner, making her heart pound. "Untouchable, lickable Queen." Tara had smiled at that. "All bravado and soft, supple steel. deceptively hard, yet so vulnerable. Makes me want to chase her again. Hear her scream. Then taste all her hot, little tears, nibble each one away. Is it okay to look, Kitten?"

And Tara hadn't answered, but instead looked thoughtfully at Cordelia herself, as if to see the young woman with her vampire's own demon eyes. Such a fine line of co-existence it was, between predator and prey, and the darkly violent, desirous emotions vampires had for their potential victims. Fortunately, Anya had distracted Cordelia before the brunette could catch, and possibly question, Tara's shiver at the dinner table, as she contemplated Willow's words.

Tara really did not, at that time, nor now, want to analyze how she personally felt about the familiar, frightening emotions of being prey. She could however, give a little thought to her vampire's 'Delia' attraction. As long as Willow only looked, she concluded, it was fine. They would talk about it more, later. Tara gently pushed the vampire from her side onto her back, her fingers reassuringly caressing Willow's arm. As the redhead stared contentedly up at the blonde witch, her slender, dead chest suddenly filled, heaving an equally contented sigh.

"Happy vampire?" Tara whispered down at her, blue eyes deep and amused. What had happened several hours earlier – her vampire's nightmare – was still fresh in Tara's mind. She was intimately familiar with the torments of her own life experiences. If she could help in any way to continue to remove the old, lingering influences of that other person from Willow tonight, she would. Ensuring her vampire was happy was one way.

Tara placed her palms to the carpet on either side of Willow's shoulders and playfully loomed above her prone lover, letting her hair tickle Willow.

"Like you on your back," Tara whispered, her smile lustful. Her smile grew, seeing Willow's eyes grow round.

"Will you do stuff to me, tonight, Kitten?" she heard her vampire whisper suddenly, breathlessly. Tara stilled a moment, surprised. Willow had never put their physical intimacies in quite that way; 'let's have hot monkey sex!', she might say, or declare, 'naked snuggles now!', or suggest, 'time for squishy sounds!'. Willow could be vulgar, and quite enthusiastically so, but 'do stuff to me' sounded more like a deeper, more serious need beyond the pleasures of a loving coupling.

"Yes," Tara simply assured, moving down to kiss Willow on her forehead. She had planned something, originally for tomorrow night, but perhaps...

"I-It's a little involved," she then heard Kitten say, a little hesitancy showing. "There's a surprise for you. And a little something for you to wear."

Willow reached up with both arms and brought Tara firmly down for appreciative kissage.

"Get a room, girls, but not my parents'," Cordelia wryly suggested from her bed.

"Why should they get a room?" Anya questioned. She stared as Tara attempted to get up, but Willow's superior strength kept the witch in her arms – and still kissing. "I want to know how lesbians interlock," the former demon added. "Those sex manuals have such unattractively drawn pictures. It makes me think they are actually describing bad sex."

"Anya honey, haven't you heard of porn?" Cordelia suggested sweetly, as Tara finally pulled away from Willow.

"Of course!" the former demon bristled. "Don't you think I've already tried to legally rent one with my fake i.d.? Tara could – "

"I'm still not going to rent one for you, Anya," Tara interrupted firmly. She made her way around Cordelia's bed to come to the former demon's side and leaned down to give her a hug and kiss. "Those aren't realistic anyway. And I'm not buying you any dirty magazines," she added.

"You're going now?" Anya asked, slightly forlorned. "Well I hope you have a very fun sex game with Willow tonight, with many orgasms." Tara gave Cordelia a quick hug across the bed.

"I have to take care of something downstairs," Willow admitted, now on her feet and picking up one of the lipsticks she had picked out. She shoved it into her tight back pocket. "Kitten, go ahead and take my car back. No walking in the dark for you."

"I need a bit of time to get ready," Tara murmured apologetically to her vampire as they kissed one more time. "Can you wait in the living area when you get home?"

"Okie doke," Willow promised with a smile. She watched Kitten leave. Once Kitten was gone, the vampire's slender hand idly reached out and flicked on Delia's cd player. As ABBA's 'Dancing Queen' filled the room (to Willow's surprise – not that she had known Delia's taste in music, anyway), both girls on the bed looked at her curiously.

"Do either of you need to go downstairs?" Willow asked. When they shook their heads, Willow smiled. "Good. You just stay up here for a while then. And keep the music on."

"Good night, Willow," Anya interrupted. She went back to looking at Cordy's fashion magazine.

Delia, (quite attractively, to Willow's appreciation), bit her lip in frustration. Then the brunette decided to let her curiosity go. "Good night, Willow," she finally bade the vampire.

Tara found Willow's leather coat draped over the bannister of the stairs' landing. She fished out the Impala's keys.

"Hey Tara," Harmony greeted, with a rather intense look on her face, as she stood in Cordelia's foyer. Two of her minions were with her. The darkhaired one had a respectful vacancy to his face, as Tara passed the group, but the blonde one stared.

"Hey Harmony," The Pet softly returned with a smile, and she was out the door. Harm took in the sight of her boss' long coat, folded across the bannister of the main staircase. She had already sensed Willow's presence before stepping foot into the house. Then she heard music being played in Cordy's room, the volume higher than how she knew her former best friend liked it.

"Harmony," Willow spoke to her, from the top of the stairs. The redhead merely stood, staring down at them.

"Go in," Harm ordered the boys behind her. "Have everyone go to the big room." In a few seconds she and Willow were the only ones remaining in the reception area. The redhead tripped easily down the stairs and came to a stop before the blonde vampire. She playfully reached forward and opened Harm's new black leather car coat, the one she had knicked off one of her movie plex victims last night. Harm had already modified the coat's lining to hold a pair of stakes, one under each arm.

"Nice," Willow admired, noting the precise, even tightness of the stitches. Almost as good as her Kitten's handiwork. "You know how to sew."

"Don't you worry," she comforted. "Maybe I won't kill any of them." Willow turned from Harm and headed towards the minions wing. A grim mask fell over Harmony's face as she followed her boss.

The minions were standing around in what looked like a former rec room. As soon as Willow entered they fell respectfully to their knees. Harm grabbed a large wood chair for her boss, and placed it before the minions. Willow tossed herself into it. She looked around the room pleasantly.

"There are two women in the rooms above," Willow began without preamble, and casually studied her fingernails. She admired how trim and short they were. "Two human women. You are probably wondering to yourselves, 'Why does she keep food in the house? Why can't we eat them?'. There is only one answer to such questions: Those women are mine."

Willow leaned on one of the armrests and cocked her head at the minions. "You will respect what is mine. You will serve them, please them, and when they ask you to jump, you will say, 'How high?'. You will kill for them, and most of all, you will protect them, just as you protect my Kitten.

"They, in turn, protect my interests," Willow continued, her body lounging casually in her chair as her bright eyes sharply took in the faces before her. "You kill for me. They don't. They make money for me. You don't. You have your job, and they have their job. This is the balance in my House. And you will respect that balance, won't you."

The voiced acquiecence of the minions was loud, abrupt, and immediate. Harm, from her silent, still position behind Willow, assessed her kids. Troy was alert and solemnly drinking in every word of Willow's like she were his Jedi Master. Barry's eyes gleamed with understanding. Doc Chen in the back was thoughtful but his expression was firmly intelligent. Elise just looked plain scared. Harm's face shadowed and she steeled herself for the inevitable.

Willow smiled softly at the accommodating minions. "'Yes' is easy to say," she remarked. "But blood gets the message across better." She rested her chin in her hand to let those words sink in for her audience. The mood in the room quickly changed to dread. Willow watched more than one pair of eyes dart to Harmony behind her.

"That one," Willow merely said, pointing without even looking. Harm saw who her Master indicated and her dead heart dropped.

"Shawn, over here," Harm ordered, her voice cold and harsh. Her boy Shawn had on his typical stoic face throughout Willow's speech; typical for him, but unfortunately it was a face that could easily be misunderstood as lacking understanding. Knowing Will, however, her boss had probably picked Shawn for an entirely different, and more symbolic reason.

Harm watched her strongest boy get up and walk over to the side of Will. Willow held out a hand to the blonde vampire, and without a word, Harm pulled out one of her stakes and gave it to her Master.

"I do this, only so you'll understand," the redhead said with a smile to the room.

One moment, Willow was in the chair, accepting the stake from Harm's hand, the next second, the Master was up and Shawn was abruptly pulled from his feet and practically prone in the air. He slammed down with a huge, cracking sound as his back hit the floor, the entire room shuddering with the impact. Willow was above him, her small hand wrapped around the stake she had driven into Shawn's chest.

Harm watched as if outside of herself. Her boy, to her deep shock, did not disintegrate. Instead, he lay, demon faced, staring wild eyed up at Willow. Slowly, his master pulled the stake out with a sick, sucking sound. Two inches over, perhaps, and she would have nailed his heart dead on.

"Ghh-Gr-GhGuh – " Shawn sputtered. The moment the stake popped out of his chest cavity, he clutched his spurting front, his large hands in macabre imitation of a lover holding his heart. He stared up at Willow like a dying admirer.

Willow offered the stake to his mouth, and Shawn dutifully forced his clenched teeth open to lick the wood clean.

As Troy dragged Shawn out of the way, Willow wasted no time in slamming a frightened Ken to the floor and staking him through the stomach – his actual stomach organ. Ken immediately threw up all the hard earned dinner he had just hunted, his stomach spurting the same from its new orifice. Willow, with her nose delicately wrinkling, tried to wipe her hands and her weapon on his shirt front.

Willow next pointed at Chuck, Harmony's military boy. "That one," she said again.

Chuck, she staked through a lung. Lying on the slick, bloodied floor, Chuck – newly risen and only a few days old – drew on intestinal fortitude and only coughed up blood once. Go Marine.

"That one," Willow merely said, as Troy helpfully dragged Chuck away. The minion Willow pointed at shrank piteously from the gesture.

"ELISE!" Harm snapped. The girl looked petrified. Before Harm could step forward, Barry took firm hold of the girl minion, trying to whisper in her ear. He also tried to mask his attempt to help Elise approach the Master, when he was practically carrying the girl to her.

"Oh, now, tsk," Willow softly chastised, as Elise was placed, kneeling and sobbing before her. The little minion stared at nothing but the bloodied stake in her hand. "Your brothers could look me in the eye. Now look up."

Tears streaked from Elise's frightened, blue eyes as she miserably did as asked. Willow's slender arm suddenly whipped around the girl, crushing her to her body. Elise shrieked.

In a grotesque sense of consideration, Willow carefully kept her blood stained hand away from Elise, even as her arm held her tight.

"Oh shhhhh," Willow hushed, her cheek pressed to the girl's own wet cheek. "There, there, little thing," Willow soothed, rocking the girl. The redhead raised the blood stained stake in her other, gory hand, for Elise to see. "Now, at some point, someone's going to try to stake you," Willow explained softly. "Don't you want to know what it feels like?"

She was a very pretty little thing, Willow admired. Harm had gotten the girl's dark hair cut; the short pixie locks were soft against Willow's face and the cute, feminine scent of her shampoo was adorable. There was a definite demon presence in this little gamine, but the strong imprint of the girl's one time human innocence continued to radiate from her very being. The little thing had been a good, uncorrupted soul, and here was its ghost, still lingering around the fledge the redhead carefully, yet firmly held prisoner. A fledge who could still genuinely cry. Willow could no longer resist the scent of the sweet tears. She kissed some away. Then she hungrily sought out Elise's mouth.

To everyone's shock, Elise hands shot out to desperately grab her Master's stake hand.

The two froze in the chair; Master and minion. Despite being locked in a kiss, the tension could be seen in the Master's slender arm as Elise's own slim limbs trembled to hold it back.

"AHAHaHa!!" She laughed out loud, delighted. It was obvious Elise's reaction had surprised her, and somehow even pleased her. A desperate fire of defiance was actually flaring in the fledge's blue eyes, and Willow wanted to test that cute resolve. She pressed her arm down, and Elise tearfully pressed back with all her might.

"Silly little thing!" Willow teased. "Do you really think you can stop me from killing you?" Enjoying the game, Willow held the minion firmly in her grip and pressed her bloodied stake arm further. Frantically, Elise pushed her body back into the limb holding her immobile while her own arms fought hard against the stake's slow descent. A desperate sound broke from her lips as the sharp wood slowly pierced her chest through her cotton dress. She continued to struggle against her Master's hand.

Master's mouth moved down to playfully nip at Elise's ear. The girl sobbed angrily, blood beginning to stain the front of her dress.

"Warriors...killers, accept death, Little Thing," her Master whispered to her. "I am Master, your life is mine. But you can't serve me like that, can you, little one? You bad, disobedient child, you want to survive."

"AH – " Elise cried painfully, as the wood slowly entered her chest. Her hands remained over the Master's; weak now, shaking.

"Withholding my right like that," Willow softly admonished into her ear. "It's so selfish of you, little girl."

And Willow held her, close, and made sure her stake penetrated slowly. She stared avidly into wide, wet eyes and felt the little thing's silly, futile grip on her hand. She carefully forced the point directly into the girl's undead, virgin heart, piercing it lightly.

Then quickly withdrew the stake, and thrust the little minion away from her, into the arms of the large male who had helped placed the girl before Willow in the first place.

As the shuddering girl clutched at the bleeding hole in her chest, Willow pensively licked the stake's point.

"Never forget," She declared softly to the room, though her cold, bright eyes were focused on frightened, agonized blue. "You are all mine."

She was walking on her hands in her living area, waiting for Kitten, who was moving quietly and mysteriously about upstairs. Willow had too much energy now; that's what happens when one doesn't kill as intended. The little minion girl, by her rash, bold action of actually trying to defend herself, had at least saved Willow the trouble of ridding her clothes of the little thing's dust. The redhead only had to scrub the blood off her hands and under her fingernails, and then she ran home to Kitten and her 'surprise'.

Willow managed to walk the length of her living area on her hands and then tumbled again. She looked closely at her fingernails. Yep, not a speck of blood. Unfortunately, she couldn't say the same for her slightly splattered silk shirt, and her pants, and her shoes.

Willow debated one more time whether she should just bring herself to Kitten's door in the buff, once her witch called her up. She really had to remember to store an extra set of clothes downstairs.

Ecstatic, Willow jumped up and ran with vampiric speed to snatch the paper before it even reached the bottom. She looked at it eagerly. The paper was thick, and of parchment quality. In Kitten's womanly cursive writing, the inked words read:

Willow bound up the steps. She paused when she saw an identical piece of parchment at the top of the stairs.

Willow sat down on the steps and did so quickly, glad to get rid of her bloodstained clothes, and folded them into a neat pile at the top of the stairs. Now nude, she walked more slowly down the hall. She already spotted the next paper. She knelt to read it:

Willow shivered. Ooo, kinky game! She gathered up the paper. She saw the next piece of paper and knelt to read it too:

Willow felt the thrill up her back again. Kitten had given her a title now. She wondered what sort of 'House' it referred to. Willow edged closer to Kitten's room, whose door was ajar. Soft, string music lilted gently from the opening. The vampire could scent the sensual, incense presence of cedar wood, sandalwood, and jasmine. Willow knelt silently to read the last leaf of paper, laid atop a thin wood board. The wood was strung with cord, like a sign:

A little light bulb went off in Willow's head. Spartacus! She was going to be the sexy Tony Curtis slave boy to Kitten's! –

Okay, not Kitten's creepy Laurence Olivier, Willow corrected, thinking that sounded entirely too blech-y. Change that thought to just Kitten's sexy Roman Lady.

A small pot of black paint sat by the open door. Beside it lay a large brush. Carefully, Willow dipped the brush and printed her name in careful, black letters on the small thin board:

She picked the small placard up, now bearing her name, and placed the cord around her neck. She carefully straightened the sign that hung down her chest. It rested just below her small breasts.

If this was the 'little something' Kitten had meant she would wear, it was certainly unique!

Feeling excitement and a rare sense of trepidation, Willow crept to the open door. She peeked inside, holding the door frame.

There was a beautiful, warm glow to the room, silent but for the gentle, musical sounds of strings. Kitten had changed her bedroom's energy with the addition of diaphanous, red fabrics hung and draped strategically, and with the tossed presence of huge, silk covered pillows. Candles, everywhere, lit the room. Incense smoke rose lazily from a small, metal lamp. Kitten sat in a chair at her desk, dressed in a thin dressing gown Willow had never seen before; red, long, and silky. It parted to reveal Kitten's bared, crossed legs. Her witch was turned away from the door, sipping meditatively from a delicate cup. Willow's needless breath caught in her throat, admiring Kitten's pale profile and the tumbled fall of rich, honeyed hair. Kitten finally gave the doorway her attention. Her blue eyes sparkled.

Willow entered, uncharacteristically hesitant. Never had she been more aware of her naked state, and wearing only a silly sign, too. She walked far enough into the room to stop a few, respectful feet away from Kitten. She tried to stand still. It was like she had stepped into another place, the room so subtly transformed to her senses. If this was a different place – which was the purpose of this game, of course – then they were both definitely within certain roles, and Willow's was so noticeably subservient. She looked almost anxiously at Kitten, whose blue eyes were liberally appraising her body. Feeling just a little out of sorts in such a new play situation, Willow actually had to fight the urge to not take her hands and demurely cover her red haired sex.

"For sale?" she heard Kitten ask finally, the twinkling, blue eyes meeting her green ones again.

"Yes Lady," Willow answered right away. She fidgeted slightly, a hand straightening her sign as Kitten checked her out again.

Willow did, and obediently stood still with hands clasped before her while she felt Lady Tara's eyes on her butt.

"Full circle," Lady requested. Willow did so, coming to a stop facing the mistress again.

"A Slayer," Willow answered suddenly, truthfully. Anxiety filled her; she had no idea she was going to answer like that. Would this stop the game?

Apparently for Kitten, it didn't matter. Her witch easily took the answer in stride.

"Very bad," Willow whispered. She watched Lady uncross her legs and then lean upon her chair slightly, looking into Willow's eyes.

"Would you like to be a slave in my House, little girl?" Lady asked softly. A shiver ran up Willow's body, remembering how she had referred to the little girl minion in just that way only a short time before.

"Yes please, Lady Tara, I wanna be a slave in your House," Willow pleaded in a small voice.

"How much are you then?" Lady asked with a smile, and Willow wanted to smile back, seeing the familiar half-grin.

"I can pay that fee," she said softly. With a gesture, Tara indicated that Willow kneel before her. The vampire eagerly did so.

"Take off your sign," Lady requested, reaching for something on her desk. When she turned back to Willow, now bereft of her little sign, Tara held something gold in her fingers. She showed it to Willow. A small gold hoop – an earring.

Lady's hand gently brushed back Willow's hair from her ear. She carefully pushed the hoop through the ear lobe piercing.

"Goddess bless this new member to my House. Bless her, her name is Willow," the vampire heard Tara murmur above her. The warm hand that brushed again through her hair then soothed down to cup her chin. Willow felt her face raised, Tara's blue eyes admiring the ring.

Willow thought that maybe it was the pungent scents hanging thick in the air, or the soft music that set such a subtle, hypnotic tone, or maybe it was the new, sensual colors of the room...Willow had no idea how it happened, but the play they were engaged in somehow transformed into something more; something that drew Willow to Kitten like she truly were Lady, and Willow a mere, small slave needing a home. She was sinking into the soft, surreal energies of this game, and Willow did not mind it. She felt the weight of the new gold ring in her ear and let herself go.

Tara easily led an obedient Willow to the bath area, and into the hot, scented water prepared. Flowers floated on the surface of the steamy bath. Even the languid music was present in the room, and Willow's curious mind tried not to question how that could be. She stepped into the hot bath and allowed Tara to submerge her fully. As she rose, Tara's hands guiding her, Willow felt herself tingling from head to toe, pleasured heat seeping into her every skin surface. Tara submerged her again.

"All that exists is now," Tara whispered above her, as Willow reemerged from the waters. Her fingers combed Willow's heavy, wet locks from her face. "No past, no future. You are here, and you are mine." Before Willow could open her eyes, she heard something being dipped, and then water was poured down her head.

"Yours, Lady, I'm yours," Willow answered, nearly sputtering as water poured over her again. "I belong to you."

And Willow didn't care that perhaps it wasn't permitted, but she quickly wiped at the wetness streaming down her eyes and looked up sincerely into Tara's face.

Willow was beginning to feel a little heady, seduced into a subtly induced, drunken state. The incense in the sultry, glowing air intoxicated her with each unneeded inhale she took. The bath she now stepped out of had infused her skin with its beguiling scents. Tara softly rubbed down her warmed body with large, fluffy towels Willow had not seen before. Even the near silent, handheld dryer Tara used to gently dry her hair was new. Willow remained quiet and a little awed as Tara groomed her. She felt utterly cherished, but cherished in that way a beautiful, naked youth might feel when being readied as a bloody sacrifice to the scary gods.

She stood obediently – very sacrificial like – in the middle of the bath suite as Tara retrieve something hung upon the door. As Tara held the garment before her, Willow's mouth formed a small 'o' in awe. It was a beautiful, near sheer, white tunic. Short, in a style reminiscent of the clothes youths of mythical, ancient Greece might wear. It had no trim and no sleeves, making the garment look light and almost ephemeral. Willow automatically lifted her arms.

Tara grinned at her eagerness. She placed the soft, thin tunic over Willow's head and pulled it into place. She tied the dark gold cord that was its belt. The tunic was slit up all the way on either side of Willow's body. The gathered, darted fabric easily followed the slim, feminine contours of her vampire's lines, and its translucency hardly masked the presence of erect, little nipples beneath, nor the trimmed, red area between the legs. Willow looked down at herself and grew wet at just the simple sight of her clothed body looking so...available. She felt her Kitten's fingers in her hair, and looked up.

Tara's blue eyes were warm and dark with admiration and a smoldering passion. She held a red flower, a hibiscus bloom, with its impressive stamen, and carefully pushed it into Willow's hair, behind the gold hooped ear.

"You are very beautiful," she whispered, cupping Willow's face and kissing her forehead. Her soft lips trailed down and kissed Willow's nose, then her chin. Each slow contact of lips felt like blessings...benediction.

The kiss was passionate, hot, and opened mouthed, and Willow could feel all the encompassing heat and hunger of her mistress in that kiss. She melted beneath Kitten's fire, her body weakening under the onslaught of such possessive lips. Her own mind had melted down already from the husky words Tara had spoken: 'my slave'.

When Willow finally opened her heavy lidded eyes, her body clinging to her Kitten, she saw amused, darkened blues stare down at her.

Her witch led her, not back to her room, but into Willow's own bedroom, and as Willow obediently followed, she nearly gasped to see the difference. Like Kitten's room, the atmosphere had been changed by draped reds and rich fabric, and by candles placed strategically to allow much of the room to remain in flickering shadow, thus changing the room's very shape. The ambiance was dark, mysterious, its air tendriled with wisps of incense smoke. The shimmering, plucked sounds of that single, string instrument was now accompanied by a low, mesmerizing drum beat. Her large bed, the focal point of all the candlelight, looked almost like a sensual altar, complete with twisted, silk fabric, looped from the headboard into restraints.

I am being sacrificed, Willow mentally gulped. Maybe to Lady's Goddesses. But what a way to go!!

The command made Willow even more wet. Without turning around, she obediently placed her arms behind her back, crossing the wrists. She felt them tied firmly together.

Tara walked slowly around her, her warm hand trailing from Willow's bound wrists to her arm, then her shoulder. She looked only at Willow's body, admiration in her eyes. When Tara came to a stop before Willow she idly caressed fingers where the swell of the vampire's breasts peeped from the slit sides of the tunic. Willow suppressed her moan. She wasn't sure if making noise was allowed.

"Who owns you," she heard Lady murmur almost offhandedly, still watching the light travel of her fingers.

"And I'm liking what's mine," Tara gave, her gaze and voice pleased as her fingers caressed down Willow's sides and soothed along the smooth, bared angles of her hips. Willow's wrists involuntarily worked against her bonds and she arched slightly at the teasing attention. The hard buds of her erect nipples pressed up against her tunic's fabric. Willow watched her mistress' blue eyes rise to her jutting little tits and appreciatively darken. Kitten stepped back.

"On your knees," Tara softly ordered. She slid into the large armchair behind her, watching Willow earnestly fall to her knees and shuffle forward without being asked. Tara grinned, and decided to ignore her vampire's small infraction. She swung a leg over an armrest, and flicked aside her red dressing gown, revealing her body.

Tara looked down, eyelashes dark against her cheeks, then glanced up, utterly coy. Her smile was knowing and suggestive. It was the most subtle demand of 'go down on me' Willow had ever seen. Her mouth opened to eagerly comply.

Willow froze. She looked up desperately from her aborted mid-dive into the golden temple and saw Tara's lustful, amused eyes. Her witch's fingers went to Willow's hair, plucking the flower.

Willow did as asked, laying back far enough to touch the floor with her tied hands. With her chin to her chest, she could see Kitten lean forward from her chair and flick the skirt end of her tunic up, revealing her sex. Mistress then took the large flower in her hand and place it between the vampire's wet, pussy lips. Willow felt the stem pushed inside her.

"I d-don't know, Lady Tara, it might pop out," Willow truthfully whimpered, seeing the flower and its long stamen at attention between her legs.

"It'll be fine," Tara soothed, and sat back in the chair once more, replacing her leg over the armrest. She pulled back her robe to reveal her body again.

Willow lifted herself up from the floor – mindful of the flower – and quickly got to work.

Tara arched, inhaling deeply as Willow's tongue eagerly serviced her. She gripped the chair's high back above her with both hands when Willow's nose bumped up against her clit.

"S-Slower! Slower!" she gasped, Willow's enthusiastic attention almost sending her over the edge far too quickly. The redhead's tongue slowed in its in and out motion and Tara began to moan, flinging her other leg over the vampire's shoulder, her toes stroking Willow's bound hands. Willow tongue-fucked the temple entrance for a while, then eased into the tongue explorations and tongue delving techniques she did so well.

Perfect bliss was being between Kitten's thighs, Willow had long since decided. Murder had its blissful moments. Gulping down hot, live blood was sometimes blissful. But if all a vampire did were only those things, the moments of bliss got rarer, and the joyful act of killing just became, over the years, what merely kept an unlife going. No, real bliss for Willow was the sight of those luscious tits above her, and Kitten's face in utter, sensual abandonment, and the smell of her earthy, hot cunt beneath her mouth, and the delirious sounds of her tongue squooshing in this wet, warm haven and of Kitten's frantic, orgasmic moans. Perfect happiness was delirious cunnilingus in this encompassing temple of Softness, of Kitten Flesh, now squishing her head, right here, right now.

Kitten came against her mouth, her thighs squeezing madly, and flooded Willow's happy face.

Tara panted, a limp noodled, sated victim once again to her vampire's oral attentions. She looked down between her breasts and saw Willow, eyes shut in cat-like pleasure, lapping between her legs. Tara's body jolted in kinky arousal – again – at the provocative sight of Willow's tied hands behind her back. She put a gentle, yet firm hand to her vampire's head to still her attentions. If she didn't, she'd never make it out of this chair.

"T-Thank you, Willow," Tara managed to give, in a relatively calm tone, when Willow's wet face looked inquisitively up at her. "Now on the bed."

Willow looked down at herself and saw that the red flower was still there. She was lying on the bed now. Mistress had cut her bonds with a large knife, and its presence made Willow wonder if the ornate blade was going to make a reappearance in their play later. The moment Willow was prone on the bed, Lady Tara had flicked her little tunic skirt up, revealing the flower.

"How's the little flower?" Willow heard Lady ask, humor in her voice. The vampire was pretty certain Tara was not referring to the actual hibiscus bloom.

Willow wanted to say, 'well lubricated', but instead she blurted with some concern, " I think it's stuck to my sticky pussy, Lady Tara." Mistress was sitting beside her on the bed, and at Willow's exclamation her shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Smiling, she took both of Willow's hands and raised them above her head. She placed them in the twisted silk loops secured to the headboard. Tara pulled on the fabric, and they tightened slightly on Willow's wrists.

"Yes, Lady," Willow answered right away. Tara then tugged on the cord of the vampire's tunic. The knot gave way, and Willow felt oddly vulnerable. Tara took hold of the front half of her light garment, and slowly lifted it, exposing Willow's body.

The tunic was worked over Willow's head. She lifted her body as asked and the garment was slipped from her. Finally she lay naked. Lady looked down at her, warm hand on Willow's chest. The blonde leaned forward, kissing Willow on her forehead, then her nose, and finally upon her mouth, stealing the vampire's undead breath away.

Tara reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a large candle. Willow's eyes widened in aroused anticipation as the candle hovered above her body.

That's a hot candle!! Willow thought with glee, wondering if her witch knew about candles that burned hotter than others. Well of course she did, Kitten was a witch after all.

Willow's hands clenched the silk restraining her wrists and waited for the fire.

"What is mine, I do with as I please," she heard Tara intone. She spilled the wax between Willow's breasts, trailing a long line.

"AHH! AH!!" Willow cried out, realizing immediately that Kitten was spilling close enough to almost burn. She moaned as the hot wax hardened quickly on her flesh, still searing her with its intense heat. Tara tipped the candle again. Willow shrieked, arching in ecstasy.

She slowly poured again, and again, drawing fiery designs all along Willow's chest and stomach. She then picked up a fresh candle, and ran its hot liquid underneath the vampire's breasts – dribbling it along her sides. Willow squirmed and bucked. Tara watched carefully for her vampire's recovery.

Willow screamed, near delirious with the burning pleasure that claimed her flesh. As melted wax dribbled from her hips and down between her legs, she felt the fire strike the insides of her arms. She shrieked again.

"Y-Yes, Lady, AH!!" Willow screamed, arching, as hot wax ran along her inner thighs.

Tara bit her lip, trying hard to keep the play going. She had tested wax play on herself, studiously, in her dorm room, and it could be pleasurable, done slowly and attentively from, well, a much higher height than where she was holding the candles from now. But she was human, and Willow was a demon, and she had strongly sensed that it would be necessary to push the wax play for her vampire tonight. Push it only because it instinctively felt like this was what Willow needed right now. The ecstasy could be seen, right there, in her vampire's rapt face, and so far this was the gauge of pleasure or pain Tara could watch in case she went too far.

Perhaps because she was a demon, Willow had laughed at her for even suggesting that the vampire pick a personal safety word or gesture for their playtime. At least Willow was a considerate enough vampire to allow her Kitten her own safety word and signal. Tara leaned forward and slowly licked one of Willow's hard, erect nipples, as her lover panted needlessly beneath her.

Tara obliged. She poured hot wax down upon the nub, as close as she dared. Willow screamed in ecstasy. Tara repeated the same stimulation of pleasure, then pain, on the other breast. This time, as her vampire arched and shuddered, Tara was certain Willow came.

The young woman did not allow Willow any rest. As the vampire trembled from her orgasm, Tara began to rip the wax from her skin, causing more painful sensations.

"Don't thank me yet," Tara murmured, making Willow squeal as she tweaked wax from her nipples. "I want you mindless by the time I'm through with you."

Willow wanted to say, 'OH,' at such a declaration, but moaned instead, as her witch ripped wax from the inside of her thighs. Firm hands body-stroked her sensitized skin suddenly, from tender thighs to hips to her abdomen to her boobies and then right up her arms. Willow writhed. She felt her silk bonds loosened and her wrists slipped free of the restraints.

"Y-Yes Lady," Willow stammered, doing as asked. she raised up a little on her knees, to keep from crushing the blossom between her legs, her thighs trembling. She felt Kitten caress her ass, then run her warm hand along her back. Kitten's hands moved to each of her wrists and placed them in the silk loops, restraining them again. Willow held on to the taut silk almost desperately.

"Yes Lady, yes Tara," Willow assured quickly. She felt Kitten withdraw, and then white hot fire splashed down upon her back.

Kitten was relentless; the wax was poured on her so aggressively, the vampire was certain there was enough on her to make another Willow for the London Wax Museum. But all the searing pain was exquisitely perfect; by denying her time to recover, she was prisoner to the unforgiving, endless sensations. Her will was expertly taken, and left in its place was only Kitten's will, Kitten's to do whatever she damn well pleased to Willow's surrendered body. She felt fire dribble down the crack of her vulnerable ass and screamed with abandonment into the pillows.

Tara listened carefully; Willow was just moaning now, reduced, it seemed, to only reacting to what was being done to her. She quickly cleansed her vampire of all the wax from her back and limbs, and swept the bits off the bed. She retrieved a bottle from the stand; it had been warming in hot water. Tara squeezed the warmed oil into her hands, then placed her palms soothingly on Willow's reddened skin.

Oil would add even more heat to her vampire's body. Tara would have preferred lotion for its cooling effects, but then again, that was because she was human. Willow and Dru were always cool to the touch, their bodies often stealing Tara's own warmth when they were in bed together. Willow, she knew, always desired heat.

Willow groaned into her pillows, feeling the luxurious, firm touch of her witch's hands working more soothing warmth into her skin.

"That's my girl, that's my beautiful girl," Tara crooned, running her slick hands firmly over the freckled flesh. "You're a good girl, enduring all that," Tara whispered. She leaned in briefly to kiss the earlobe with the gold ring. "Lady's pleased."

Willow kept moaning, as slow, heated pleasure replaced the memory of burning on her body and limbs. Kitten's words thrilled her and she basked in the praise. She thrusted her ass up as Kitten's firm hands massaged the reddened globes. She felt those strong hands stroke up the entirety of her body once again. Deliberate palms pressed their firm way up her oiled back, her shoulders, to the base of her skull. Possessive fingers and thumbs curled around her slender arms. They moved assuredly up her unresistant limbs and teased beneath the cloth of her bound wrists, loosening and releasing them from their restraints again.

"Time to turn over, Will," Tara coaxed, helping her vampire. When Willow was finally laid on her well oiled back, Tara raised the vampire's arms and slipped her wrists back into their ties once more, securing them. She tucked a pillow beneath the redhead's behind. She sat back, looking down at Willow's glazed, lidded eyes and small, softened mouth. Smiling, Tara parted her dressing gown further so that she could wipe her oiled hands off on her own body.

"Oh oh oh oh," Willow moaned softly, completely smitten by the sensual, heady sight before her. Kitten's hands rubbed up against her big boobies and left them glistening with oil.

"Oh mm mm," Willow whimpered, struggling a little against her silk restraints. Kitten grinned at the reaction, nose wrinkling in mirth as she ceased touching her own body. She reached for the flower between Willow's thighs. She worked it out of the vampire's sticky pussy and raised it to her lips, kissing its stamen. She set it aside.

Kitten's hand then searched beneath the pillow beside the vampire's head. Her girl withdrew something long and clear.

Willow stared in surprise. The object was glass...it was a long, glass dildo, double ended with a smooth, tapered head on one end and a shaped ball studded with little nobbies on the other. To Willow, the studded, dome head looked almost like a funny mace; or a strange scepter. It was a new toy; definitely not from the vampire's collection. The thought that Kitten had actually gotten this for her made Willow shiver. Special Kitty!

Kitten touched the large glass toy to her inner arm, then pressed her lips against it.

"Open your legs," her witch bade. Willow did so eagerly. She watched as Kitten placed the small, tapered end at her wet entrance, and slid it home.

"OH Kit – Oh LADY!" Willow cried, feeling the glass fill her and bury deep. It was hot glass, the vampire realized with delighted surprise – but it wasn't bad hot, it was good hot, fiercely warm – a perfect cunny warmer. Willow's inner muscles clutched happily around the hot toy.

"Good?" she heard Kitten ask, as more pillows were placed beneath her thighs and the snug dildo.

"Yes yes, thank you Tara," Willow assured, her vaginal walls clenching again. She hoped she wouldn't accidentally make the toy pop out.

"We're going to leave that right there for a while," Kitten said, slipping out of her robe. She poured more oil into her hands. She raised herself up on her knees and began to oil her body again. "Okay?"

"O, o, okay..." Willow whispered, her green eyes huge as she took in the hot, body rubbing activity resuming before her.

"Who's my sweet Will?" she heard Kitten ask, as her oiled hands slowly massaged along her own curves.

"I'm, I'm Kitten's Will," Willow answered, wide eyes drinking in her witch's shiny, luscious parts, and Tara experienced a flash of exhilaration, realizing that Willow no longer needed the game to be submissive to her. They were their own selves now; Kitten and vampire.

"Kitten's – Kitten's – m' Kitten's very good Will," Willow babbled sweetly, staring with adoration in her eyes. Right then, Kitten was her Goddess: the sun, the moon, the stars, and little satellite Willow revolved around her beautiful earth girl. All this tonight was more than anything, anyone, had ever given the vampire. A real giving, she realized. Things had always been done to her; never had something in play been done completely for her. The realization made Willow's undead heart suddenly hurt.

"Oh baby," Tara soothed, seeing the sudden, surprising vulnerability and intense emotion in her vampire's eyes. For a moment, she worried. "Do you need me to stop?"

"Nono please," Willow begged. Kitten quickly kissed her forehead. She felt her witch's slick body come down to contact hers and the gorgeous weight and warmth made the vampire gasp.

"That's my good Will," Kitten murmured, as she slid slowly up and down Willow's body. "That's my sweet girl."

Willow was in endorphins delirium; her slick, hot witch slid firmly against her, large breasts catching on her littler breasts, soft tummy rubbing against her soft tummy, lovely kinky hair mingling with her kinky hairs and up and down and everywhere. Willow was reduced to a hollow little vampire chock full of Kitten goodliness. There was only mere want, and mere need, and her utter surrender to searing heat, soft skin, and the lusty scents of juicy, witch wetness. Kitten slid and stroked, deep blue eyes eating up wide, helpless green. Willow felt a firm hand between her legs and it took hold of the glass dildo and wiggled it.

"Say it," Kitten growled, stroking harder with her body. She moved the dildo. "Say who you belong to."

"You Kitten," Willow panted, as the hot toy moved in and out. "You Kitten. Will'o belongs – to Kit – OHFUCKYESPLEASE – "

Possessive teeth were at her throat, biting down. Lips sucked at her soft flesh, marking her –

"Oh please oh please – " Willow whimpered breathlessly. She never begged in bed – never never – except with Mummy – "Oh – ple – ase – Kit – 'n – "

The realization made Willow stare wide eyed and in near shock up into indigo blue. Through the haze of lust and rush of endorphins, Kitten's focused depths were unfathomable. Within the dark of that midnight blue shined Lilith moons and women's secrets. Within that royal night was everything dark and light that ate all of her, body and Willow, and Willow knew, that since Kitten was her Goddess, why shouldn't she feel Her compassion, Her Love?

And Willow's demon, prisoner to the body, could do nothing but take what her Goddess was giving her.

She felt the toy pulled out and then reinserted inside her again, this time with the larger, studded head. The knobby surface thrilled her needy walls and then Kitten did some –

Tara watched Willow quake and practically take off from the bed, nearly throwing her off. The blonde witch gasped and tried not to land on the vampire when Willow finally collapsed. Tara swiftly pulled out the toy when she felt the redhead's muscles give up their iron hold.

"Will?" Tara panted, adjusting herself above the unconscious vampire. She flung her dark blonde hair back so she could see Willow better. "Will?" she asked again, giving Willow's chin a little shake.

Oh god, Tara realized, as she struggled to get her body's still raging lust in control. I've knocked Willow out.

Tara was at a complete lost. And still completely horny. Seeing her vampire this out of it worried her. Since the redhead didn't need to breath, she just seemed so...dead. After a little persistent shaking though, it appeared Willow wasn't about to wake anytime soon. Tara finally smoothed the vampire's red locks back from the peaceful, angelic face and sighed, willing her own arousal away. She really didn't feel like pleasuring herself atop her knocked out lover.

She softly kissed her vampire's slack, little cupid mouth, and then pressed her forehead to Willow's.

The declaration was something she knew she shouldn't have made. It made her heart ache, deeply, and that ache hurt in far too many different ways. Tara slowly sat up, wiping at the tears that suddenly threatened her eyes. She smiled, because even when passed out Willow looked utterly adorable. The young woman reached behind the bed and unplugged the heating pad hidden under the pillow next to Willow's. It had been used to keep the new glass dildo warm. She wiped down the toy, wrapped it, and placed it safely on the nightstand for cleansing later. She then unclasped the small, gold hoop in Willow's ear, gently removing it. She didn't want it to cause Willow discomfort while sleeping.

Tara brushed the bed as best as she could of all the wax crumbs, and pulled the coverlet over her unconscious girl. Lust still buzzed in her own body; it was a pleasant buzz, her own need to orgasm easily ignored once she realized that her lover was down for the count. Tara let her body's sexual energy hum, a manageable, aroused glow that would eventually fade, and set about the mundane task of cleaning up their 'play' things.

While Tara was meditatively sweeping the wax up with a broom, she heard the shower start up in the bath suite, and Dru's voice exclaim within. Though curious as to why the dark haired vampiress was back home before the night was done, and in their bath suite and not in her own, Tara continued to put Willow's room back to some semblance of order before she checked on her vampire's sire. She then heard a splash and realized Dru had gone into the bath she had drawn earlier.

"Dru?" Tara called out, pulling her dressing gown closed and tying it. She glanced back at Willow in the bed, a familiar smirk now gracing her cute little mouth.

Unknown to Tara, Willow was right then deep in the dreamscape, orbiting Mother Tara-Earth and renaming her happy, satellite self 'Slave Sputnik'. Tara looked bemusedly at her sleeping Willow and then turned her attention to the noisy Dru.

Entering the bath suite, Tara saw the elder vampire's torn dress, covered in a strange, clear, slimy substance, lying upon the floor, and a nude Dru contentedly sitting in the bath. Slime was also pooled on the shower stall floor. Apparently, Dru had met up with a giant demon slug-thingie.

"Oh Dru!" Tara exclaimed, seeing the dark blood trailing from the vampiress' forehead. The blonde witch immediately fetched a hair clip and knelt by the bath, intent on twisting Dru's dark locks up and out of her face. Drusilla looked up from her play with Willow's rubber devil ducky and stared at Tara as if for the first time.

"Priestess!" she declared, her dark eyes catching Tara's blue ones in a wide eyed, speculative manner. Startled, the blonde witch did not know what to say. She finished clipping Dru's hair up and wetted a wash cloth, wiping the blood from Drusilla's face.

"A tree said hello, it bit my head," Dru simply explained, referring to the quickly healing gash the washcloth finally revealed. Tara worried her lip, not liking the looks of the wound despite the fact that she knew it would be fully healed by morning. She quickly fetched some butterfly closures, and placed them gently over the cleansed cut.

"Not a very polite tree, was it," Tara softly commented, and grinned slightly at the elder, the corner of her mouth curling up.

"Carried pets, it did," Dru gave solemnly. "One jumped from its arms. Got my dress all dirty. Naughty, squishy pet." Dru pouted at the remains of her dress, which, when Tara examined the ragged, slimed pile, looked like Dru had torn off her body herself. The vampiress did not appear to be injured anywhere else. Whatever encounter Dru had with a mysterious giant slug-something had done nothing worse to the vampire than apparently make a tree 'bite' her.

"This bath is cold – I'll warm it up for you, okay?" Tara suggested, realizing Dru was going to be a while in their bath suite. She moved for the drain and faucets.

"Bless it as you did for my childe," Dru requested rather formally, submerging the ducky. Tara was again startled by the vampire's words, but as the cool water drained, replaced swiftly with steaming warmth, the blonde witch retrieved the salts and herbs she had used for Willow's bath earlier and did as Dru asked.

While Dru enjoyed her newly drawn, hot bath, Tara sat upon the tile floor, her back against the bath cabinet, and watched the elder vampire. From her seated position, she could easily see her slumbering Willow through the open suite door.

Priestess, Dru had called her...Tara ruefully shook her head at that, but her mind dwelled on the implications of that word. Tonight, the sex play had become quite serious, with the blonde witch intuitively inserting ritual and mystery into their game. Despite the attention she had lavished on the scenario itself, Tara had come up with the role play idea mostly in jest. She had not expected Willow to become so enraptured, and for herself to say the words she had said, repetitively demanding who Willow belonged to. Though Willow's submission had been willingly surrendered within the boundaries of their 'play', it was a submission nonetheless, and Tara wondered how things might seem in the morning.

And if Tara were honest, as she nibbled reflectively on her lower lip, she had ended up demanding Willow's submission more because she had found herself secretly wanting to give her lover something; something significant and possibly cathartic. The relationship played out tonight was an experience Tara hoped would, at least for now, supplant the influences of Willow's last 'owner'.

Tara slowly traced on the cool, tiled floor, the kanji letter for 'luck and happiness'.

When Willow had explained the tattoo on her back, her words had been very few, but she had explained enough so that Tara actually shook with rage – the first time she had ever been truly angry in front of her vampire. Willow had been baffled by her angered reaction, and not because of its rare appearance, but because it had surfaced at all.

"Why are you mad?" she had asked softly with concern. And that innocent question made Tara embrace her vampire desperately. Why was she mad? It did not matter how evil Willow was or had been, no one – nothing, deserved mistreatment, especially by one who was meant to be a servant of the Light. In the back of Tara's mind, throughout their play time tonight, had been the spectre presence of that unknown slayer.

"Only the here, ducks," Dru whispered, her distant tones murmuring to Tara, as the mad vampiress dipped and redipped the toy duck in her hands almost ceremoniously. "Here, here, here we are, and now all things have changed." The steaming water cascaded in peaceful curtains from Drusilla's slender, black fingernailed hands.

Tara looked once more to where Willow lay so serenely in the bed, her smirky little mouth now turned up in a contented smile.

Willow did not have a nightmare the night after she had first told Tara about the bad slayer, but she had one this afternoon – the first Tara had ever witnessed – after confessing to having 'talked too much'. Talked too much, Tara had to guess, with Harmony, the only other significant person Willow had spent time with last night. And that fact – that Willow had been able to talk to Harmony and not to her, made Tara uncomfortably jealous, and reluctantly desirous of finding out what had happened – what damage had been done to Willow.

Tara wrapped her robe further around herself. Dru continued to ritually baptize all of Willow's little devil ducks (for her vampire had three), and Tara watched, knowing that if she asked about that part of Willow's past, Dru would answer. Even with cryptic words, Tara would at least gain more insight to what had happened.

Tara looked at Dru, and then towards the bed where Willow lay sleeping. When Tara's blue eyes returned to Drusilla, the vampire had ceased playing. She sat completely still, dark eyes not quite upon Tara's face, but their gaze was lidded, and sly...and waiting.

Willow had never inquired any further about Tara's family, even though she knew her vampire very much wanted to. Tara still felt too much pain, too much shame. She was not ready to share, and Willow had respected that. She never asked.

Tara sighed shakily, and briefly closed her eyes, mentally putting away those strong emotions that might not be wise, but were honest...and bothersome. Tara rose to her feet.

"I'll see you in bed, Dru," she bade softly, the elder vampiress watching her with a small, mysterious smile. Tara went into her bedroom, and proceeded to snuff each of her candles out. She came across Willow's little slave sign, and picked it up. It made her smile, and she placed it fondly on her desk.

When all the candles had been taken care of, Tara found the bath drained and Drusilla curled up against her sleeping childe in the bed. Extinguishing the last of the candles, Tara disrobed, slipped into the bed, and snuggled up to Willow's other side. Soon, all three women were asleep.

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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