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 SEVEN: WILLOW'S WOMEN
(Where There's A Slayer, In Your Face, Wills. Let's Rumble.)

Buffy wrote. Her wheelchair squeaked as she sat back a moment from the school library table, looking at her notebook paper.

Buffy thought a moment, and then erased Mom's name. She began a list on the opposite side of their names:

Buffy sighed. She recalled how she last saw the blonde witch in her hospital room, with her arm raised to defend Willow. Buffy blew some breath again and resumed writing.

Buffy frowned and chewed on her pencil end. Minions. How many were there and who, if important.

Eep, thought Buffy's brain and she hastily looked as studiously as possible into her open school books.

"I've just confirmed from the L.A. occult shop, our package should arrive by Monday," Giles said with a smile.

"Couldn't you have paid for Fed Ex, Giles," Buffy pouted. It was Friday, and it would have been perfect if the ingredients for her paralytic poison were here, like today, so that she could join Kendra on weekend patrol.

"No, Buffy," the Englishman dryly answered, wondering not for the first time if any 'good' news could placate his demanding first Slayer. "Not if it meant your going out tonight with your new blow gun whilst your mother 'tans' my 'hide', as she so colorfully put it, for engaging you so soon in Slayer activity."

Buffy grinned. She knew her mother wouldn't let the subject of her helping Kendra patrol go so easily. Buffy would have been highly suspicious if Mom had caved in without a fight. "Did Mom threaten you?" she exclaimed. "That's so sweet."

Before Giles could answer, a delivery man, holding a package and clipboard, entered and stood patiently at the library entrance doors.

"Yes?" Giles questioned. It was just after midday, and the Watcher wasn't expecting anything.

"Package for 'Rupert Giles'?" the delivery man read from his clipboard. Giles decided to accept, signing for the package.

"Who's it from? What is it?" Buffy demanded, wheeling over to where Giles stood, small package in hand.

"It's...from the Magic Box," Giles murmured, perplexed. "Yet I don't believe I've ordered anything from Anya." And considering that the Magic Box was hardly far, Giles mused. Why didn't the former vengeance demon merely ring him to let him know an order was waiting to be picked up?

Buffy took the brown paper wrapped box from her Watcher's hands, and pulled out her stake whittling knife. She easily cut the box open. Packets of herbs lay neatly within the box's interior.

"It's...our ingredients for the poison," Buffy observed quietly, as she and Giles laid the labeled and properly measured out packets out upon the library table.

"I did not order these," Giles stated, staring at the herbs. He searched the box for an invoice – or note. Nothing. As everyone in the White Hats group knew, Anya never gave anything for free, much less offered to pay for delivery. His first Slayer suddenly laughed, with no hint of humor.

Tara smiled down at Willow as her vampire made little sucking sounds. Considering what was Willow's favorite female body part, it was an easy guess what the redhead was enjoying in her sleep. Tara folded the last of the fabric she had used to decorate Willow's bedroom and placed it on the pile she had made. It was just after noon time, Dru still lay dead asleep in her childe's bed, and Tara had long since risen, showered, and eaten a light lunch. Now she'll take all the fabric, pillows, and other props down to the humvee. She was going to make a quick trip into town and return all the items to the local theater group she had borrowed them from. She was glad she had caught their production of 'Anthony and Cleopatra' last summer. The props used in that production had been perfect for what she intended last night. Tara picked up the large pile and left Willow's bedroom.

Willow, while Tara was loading her vehicle under the midday sun, was deeply immersed in her dreamscape. She floated joyously in the Tara-Milky Way.

"Mama Tara's Teats!" she exclaimed in her dream, having – as the first vampire cosmonaut – discovered the Goddess' Divine Body in the great star tapestry. Willow played happily in the cosmic Milk of Loving Kindness and drank her fill.

Jingle! sounded the Magic Box's doorbell, as its door swung widely open. Anya watched as Buffy forced her wheelchair through the doorway.

"I still don't have strangely abled people access!" Anya called out helpfully, her 'welcome customer!' smile slightly brittle. From what Tara had told her over dinner last night, saying 'crippled' was apparently not polite – though it was accurate. Crippled Buffy was certainly having a hard time negotiating her door, Anya winced to herself, as she merely stood and waited for the Slayer to finally, triumphantly cross the entrance way. The small blonde girl stopped her wheelchair before the stairs leading to the store floor and sat with her hands clasped together.

"That's 'differently' abled people," Buffy clarified cheerfully. "C'mere, Anya!" she added with a gesture that was meant to be friendly. Or like one would beckon to one's favorite golden retriever.

"It's still school hours," Anya noted. "As the Slayer, you were an unapologetic truant, but you really should try and stay in school now that you are 'differently' abled," Anya further chastised, as she came to a stop at the foot of the stairs. She folded her arms nervously.

"Anya," Buffy began. Being at the top of the stairs, Buffy had the rare opportunity, in her chair, to actually stare down at the girl. It felt good. "Hey!" she noticed. "Nice hair color!"

Anya suddenly beamed and gave her blonde locks a fluff of the hand. "It is pretty, isn't it," she said primly, though happily.

"Anya," Buffy began again, in what she thought of as her patented, cheery voice – the one she always used before she dusted something. "Why did you send us those herbs?"

"Well," Anya answered, her joy now rapidly diminishing, and wondered if Buffy could possibly reach her from where she sat. "Willow wanted me to. And though we are equal partners and I had argued against setting such a precedence of 'charity', because, as always happens, you White Hats are always needing something, and next thing you know, you'll just come into the shop and just help yourselves without a care and then where will I be? That's not commerce, I tell you – "

"Anya," Buffy interrupted warningly, giving the ex-demon a reassuring smile – her 'Slayer' smile.

Anya fretted, slim hands twining. "It's a gesture of 'goodwill'," she finally blurted. "I don't understand it and I was entirely against it. You Slayers are obviously going to assassinate her and I need her." To Buffy's surprise, Anya impulsively stepped up a step to look the Slayer fully in the eye. "If you kill her, I'll never sell anything to you White Hats ever again," she announced with sincere emotion.

Dumbfounded didn't quite describe Buffy. Maybe 'double dumbfounded' was more appropriate. This was the first time she had ever looked someone – who was not evil – in the eye, who was actually coming to the passionate, heartfelt defense of an undeniably Evil something. At least Tara had been really subtle about defending vamp Willow – and that was an extenuating circumstance. Tara was all Willow-seduced, and...stuff. Bizzaro! thought Buffy, as she briefly admired how Anya was trying to stand strong before her.

"Are you in thrall?" Buffy asked finally, staring closely at the shop owner. She'd never met anyone in thrall before.

"If I were under a spell of obedience, I would not be arguing with Willow about giving you the ingredients for curare," she countered. "Are you going to kill her?" the ex-demon asked plainly.

"What's this about 'goodwill'?" Buffy asked instead. That particular reason for sending her and Giles the herbs had 'yeah, right', written all over it.

"As Willow explained to me," Anya related with a huff. "She did not buy the Magic Box in order to drive away your patronage. She's a witch, she wanted her own store, and a partner who would manage it for her," Anya added with pride. "So giving you the herbs was just a way of saying, 'please come back and buy more'."

"Yes," Anya replied, looking at Buffy. Willow's explanation had sounded quite practical to the former demon, as long as the Slayers didn't try to kill Willow – which, judging from Buffy's avoidance of her question, was still a possibility. As was both Slayers' now typical behavior during a conversation, Buffy abruptly maneuvered her wheelchair around and headed for the door.

"Whenever you need more, just give us a ring!" Anya bade cheerfully, as she merely watched, and did not help Buffy as she struggled with the Magic Box entrance. "I hope you have good hunting and many successful kills – none of whom will be Willow. And if you need a replacement for your blowgun, we can easily order a new one for you!" she added, as Buffy finally negotiated her wheels through the door and allowed it to slam shut behind her.

As the Slayer wheeled herself determinedly down the sidewalk and out of sight of the Magic Box windows, Anya heaved a big, nervous sigh. This was one reason why she missed her old job as a roaming, single agent vengeance demon. No compromises.

As she opened her sleepy eyes, she smelled Kitten and Sire, but neither, as Willow felt around the bed, were no longer in bed with her. Willow sighed contentedly, feeling amazingly well rested. She recalled having really happy dreams where she was traveling through the universe and seeing Kitten everywhere and there was boobies and milk and everythin'. And not once did she dream of killing or violence or terrorizing. Or blood. It was strange, at least for her, that happy dreams should be non-demony ones.

She sucked on her lower lip and still tasted Kitten. She happened to catch a glimpse of something gold on her nightstand.

Oh! My earring! Willow thought excitedly, automatically raising a hand to check if she was still wearing it, which of course she wasn't. The vampire scooted over, retrieved the earring, and put it on.

She liked being owned by Kitten, the vampire quietly realized, as she settled, arms curled around her knees, in the bed. She did not resent it, she did not...feel any of those things that would easily motivate her demon to go on a vindictive rampage. Nothing she felt right now, resembled what she'd once felt that long ago time with that sad excuse for a slayer who liked to think she could break vampires. No, right now Willow felt cared for, protected, and....

Loved, she thought, her large, thoughtful eyes finally darting almost worriedly at the realization. Kitten loved lots of things, the vampire reassured herself hastily. Kitten loved Anya, Kitten loved Delia, and Kitten loved Dru. So yes, she could say that Kitten...liked Willow too. Kitten had said so in Delia's den that time, didn't she?

Willow stopped that train of thought about Kitten's possible feelings for her and sent it rapidly back down the lone track it came from. It made her uneasy, and she wanted to instead preserve this wonderful sense of peace she was still feeling. Such contentment. And Kitten wasn't even here with her to encourage these feelings. Willow didn't even drink her witch's blood last night. And Kitten didn't even use...

Willow suddenly reached beneath the bed sheet and put a finger inside herself. She withdrew it and stuck the finger in her mouth. It was true, Kitten didn't use even a tiny bit of magic on her last night. The entire play session had been one hundred percent, all natural, all human, woman-Kitten.

Kendra stared, with cool, dark eyes at the neatly laid out herb packages on the library table.

"Even if mojo'ed, I still want to use them," Buffy suggested. Kendra raised a sharp eyebrow at her. "I want to call her bluff," the blonde Slayer explained. Kendra turned her attention to her Watcher, who sat thoughtfully, chewing on the end of his glasses.

"Amy can discern if they are enchanted," he determined. "And if they're not, then I believe this gesture from the vampire is merely a token of insincerity. Let us not be affected by it," he cautioned, looking at his two Slayers. Kendra nodded her acquiescence gravely, while Buffy eagerly wheeled to the herbs and placed them back into their box.

"If vamp Wills wants to pretend she's fulla 'goodwill' then I say hurray for free stuff," the blonde Slayer quipped cheerfully. "School's almost over. As soon as Amy and the guys get here, she can do her mojo and then me and Ken' can go make stinky goo in the school lab."

"Make certain you clean up properly," Giles advised rather nervously. "It would be most embarrassing if any of Mrs. Thompson's biology students should, er, become mysteriously 'afflicted' in lab come Monday morning."

"Oh, we will," Buffy assured, smiling quickly at her sister Slayer, whose dark eyes only gleamed in response.

Tara entered her bedroom at the mansion and gave a quick look around again, making sure it was all back in order and that she had not missed anything that needed returning. She dropped off her car keys and moved through the bath suite. At the entrance to Willow's room, Tara paused and smiled. Her vampire was sitting, knees up, her slender, pale arms wrapped around her legs. Willow's large eyes were round, taking her in. Big eyed girl, thought Tara appreciatively. The redhead looked cute and vulnerable and she was wearing the gold earring, to the witch's surprise.

"Hey," the blonde witch said softly, as she left the bathroom entrance and approached the bed. Willow's energies were subdued. Not master-like at all. "Had a good sleep?"

"Yes," she heard her vampire breathe, her large green eyes following her every move. Tara carefully sat near her, upon the bed. The effects from last night's play, the young woman silently guessed, were still lingering.

"Have fun last night?" she asked, the corner of her mouth inching up into her familiar half-grin.

"I'm all sticky," Willow whispered, her voice small and girlish. "And oily. And stuff. I'm making you all messy." But she did not let go of their embrace, so Tara only hugged her tighter, giving her warmth.

How funny, Tara thought to herself, as she and Willow continued to hug. By now she'd just be kissing me. Or licking my neck. Or copping a feel of my breasts. Hugging Willow was never usually...just hugging. She felt Willow heave a contented, undead sigh against her, and Tara raised a hand to stroke her vampire's red hair.

"Where's the new toy?" she heard Willow ask curiously. The redhead finally loosened her embrace so that Tara could reach for it on the nightstand. The blonde witch unwrapped the cloth the glass dildo was in.

"Here," she presented almost formally to the vampire. "For you," she added with a grin. "D-Did you like it?" Tara then asked, a little hesitantly.

"Oh yes," Willow answered. That was the first time Kitten had ever penetrated her with something other than her hand and she loved it. She immediately put the tapered end of the phallus in her mouth.

Tara broke out giggling – she hadn't meant to, but it looked just like Willow was sucking on a very strange, icy popsicle. Her vampire looked unperturbed by her outburst of mirth.

"I'm cleaning it," the redhead declared when she pulled the glass out of her mouth with a wet pop, then put it back into her mouth again.

Tara shook her head. There was nothing Willow wouldn't put in her mouth, it seemed. It was not surprising that she smoked cigarettes – or had breast fetish. The vampire then kicked off the bedsheets, still sucking on the glass toy, and clambered naked into Tara's lap, straddling it. She pulled the toy out of her mouth again.

"This was very expensive," she murmured, loosely embracing the witch once more. "Thank you Kitten."

Tara blushed slightly, as they sat, nose to nose. The price of quality glass was nothing to sneeze at, but the difficulty had laid more in the research. Tara, knowing she wanted glass, found herself in the bewildering predicament of choosing what shape, length, girth, and manner of toy her vampire might enjoy best. Since she'd never been interested in dildos herself, Tara found herself making an intuitive buy. The piece Willow now held in her hand was called the 'Tumbler', and considering Willow's enthusiastic reaction last night, the 'Tumbler' had lived up to its investment, much to the blonde witch's relief.

"You deserve nice," Tara simply answered, rubbing her nose slightly against Willow's. She then slapped the vampire's naked bottom playfully. "Now, up!" she exclaimed. "Your bed needs to be made."

Willow's eyes grew as big as saucers when she felt the sudden sting from the surprising spank. She would really, really like it if Kitten would spank her. So she didn't move.

And Kitten, with a knowing look in her warm, blue eyes, suddenly gathered Willow tight to her, and lifted the vampire up. She walked a short way with Willow in her arms and deposited her neatly in the armchair the blonde witch had sat in the night before. Willow laid sprawled like a ragdoll in it as Kitten turned back to her bed and began to pull the covers off. Willow put the toy back in her mouth.

"....and Mummy said the tree had 'pets'?" Willow asked, looking closely at the sample of clear slime Kitten had kept for her. They were in the bath suite, Kitten having watched her shower (not joining the vampire, unfortunately). Now her witch was brushing her freshly washed hair.

"Yes. That means there are more, don't you think?" her Kitten asked. Willow carefully deposited the sample in the receptacle. Kitten continued to brush her silky locks, massaging her scalp.

"Yup," Willow finally replied, enjoying the soothing effects of the brushing. "Mum and I know these – they're demon tree leeches. They have no intelligence, they're just hellish parasites. They're about three feet long and like to suck the life's blood out of everything. Like trees. And other demons. But when they get a taste of hot mammal blood, hoo boy! Then those suckers grow really big and suck everything in sight. Like that movie! 'The Blob'."

Kitten stopped brushing her hair and when Willow looked in the mirror, her witch had a horrified expression on her face.

"C-Could you do something about it, Willow?" she watched her witch ask her. "B-Before, they, um, get...blobby?"

"Oh Kitten," Willow pouted. "Fiend here. I'm not an exterminator. Although you know," she added coyly. "The Slayer is one."

She watched in the mirror as Kitten digested her suggestion, and grinned fondly as a smile lit up her witch's face.

"Sure, Kitten, the sooner the better," Willow agreed. Kitten put the brush down and went into her own bedroom, retrieving her cell phone.

Willow stared into the mirror, now empty with her girl gone. A little subtle manipulation of Kitten just got Willow the help of the Slayers. Someone had to rid the town of this new icky threat. Demon tree leeches that could eat up her town's humans were competition after all. Willow dismissed that concern now that the situation was solved. She didn't want to think like a Master right now.

Willow fingered the gold hoop she could not see in the mirror. She knew without having to taste it, that it was full gold and not plated. Kitten had thought of this play scenario only a few days ago, and had spared no expense in rapidly putting it together. She made a mental note to check Kitten's bank account again.

"Next day air delivery," Kitten had admitted at Willow's prodding curiosity about how quickly her witch had obtained the dildo. The incense and candles – they were all quality, handmade items swiftly ordered through Anya's store computer and delivered to the Magic Box. The borrowed theater props had been hidden in her witch's bedroom closet, which Willow realized she had not poked enough around in. Her beautiful, little tunic had been patiently hand sewn by Kitten.

"A sewing machine would have been faster," Kitten had agreed as she helped towel Willow dry from her shower. "But hand stitches are done with love," her witch had given with a soft grin, as she looked up at Willow.

That train of thought she had tried to ignore earlier, came roaring back up the tracks it had laid, bringing with it every known feeling of insecurity.

She sat quietly before the empty mirror, as Kitten's soft voice drifted from her room.

After a few more inquiries that Tara was indeed still unharmed and in good spirits (which, judging by her sincere tones, she appeared to be), Giles finally hung up the phone. He emerged eagerly from his office. His Slayers and the rest of the White Hats were already assembled. Amy had just completed her magical reading over the herbs from the Magic Box.

"Oh god. They have feet?" Amy emitted, misunderstanding the Englishman's use of 'afoot'.

"Worm burning party?" Larry offered, wondering how big a giant, walking leech would be. It was a Friday night, but...hey, nothing much else to do in town.

"Dude, pink?" Larry commented, reverting to his macho football player persona and forgetting for the moment that he was raging gay.

Buffy happily struck her wheelchair armrests. "Where are these walking suckers and how do we kill them?" she demanded of her Watcher. Woo hoo, she mentally enthused, as Kendra put in her two cents of how she had encountered such creatures – of the non-walking variety – on one of the lesser known Caribbean islands. Buffy was so looking forward to a good slay.

Willow watched as Kitten placed her hands on one of the male minions she had staked last night, and began her softly incanted healing spell. Her witch's spells were always beautiful to watch; the words so sincere, the energies so white and golden. Willow stood silent and still within the door frame, wrapped once more in that sense of deep peace she had been experiencing since waking up this afternoon.

They were at Chase mansion, and Willow had wanted her Kitten to do the healings – just a little lesson of 'Master stake; Mistress save'. Delia, to Willow's surprise, had already bought the wounded minions a load of bagged blood, which now sat in several portable coolers in the minions wing. Willow made a mental note to check her Sparkle's bank account.

Speaking of Sparkle, Willow decided to fade silently from the room Kitten was gently weaving her spell in, leaving Harmony to watch her witch. She went looking for her Dee.

Following her Delia's steady heartbeat, Willow found her in the ground floor library. It was a comfortably masculine space, all dark wood, glass cabinets and soft leather chairs. There was the lingering, old scent of pipe smoke on the furnishings. It had obviously been Mr. Chase's domain, full of conservative books, model ships, wooden ducks (Willow raised an eyebrow at that; it was obvious Mr. Chase was not a hunting man), with a small, unobtrusive bar installed to one side. Delia sat at a rugged, library table, the Watcher's books spread open before her, intently researching. Willow's hand passed over the large, standing, antique globe, sending the world spinning silently, as she approached the table. She had a sudden vision of Delia as Athena, goddess of wisdom, seriously reading in her impressive library. Give Dee a pair of delicate, no rim eyewear to perch on her pretty nose and the goddess vision would be complete. It was an endearing, funny fantasy.

"Will," she heard Delia casually say, without looking up from the book she was delicately frowning at. "What's up?"

"The sun, the sky...the birdies," Willow quipped in a little, breathy voice. Her hand trailed along the antique wood of Delia's table. "I didn't startle you this time," she playfully noted, a small smile now gracing her lips.

"Already learned once. Vampires: Born to stalk," Delia declared. She raised her head finally, giving it a little toss that sent her long brunette mane back. "You haven't been in my underwear drawer again, have you?"

"No," Willow said, smirking. She saw Delia's brown eyes travel to her throat. Proudly, Willow touched the spot of the brunette's perusal.

"Pretty, isn't it?" she said, referring to the prominent, bruised mark Kitten had made at her throat. It won't last the day, unfortunately. Vampire healing.

Willow grinned. Her hand danced out, brushing a legal pad Delia had written on. The brunette had two before her, and this one contained dollar numbers. Willow suspected Anya ordered these writing pads in bulk.

"What's this about?" the vampire asked with casual curiosity, although her interest, truthfully, was hardly casual.

"House stuff," Delia gave. "Me, Harm and Anya are going to have a little meeting tonight to figure out how to split the monthly bills. Hire a gardener. Maybe a pool guy, but I'm thinking I could do the weekly maintenance myself. And property tax is coming up."

Willow nodded. It was interesting to see this side of Delia, the responsible side. The former Queen of Sunnydale High had diligently hidden her capability beneath her shallow exterior. She was almost too self centered to be entirely well organized, but she knew what to pay attention to, when it was her responsibility. Queen C, after all, had been leader of the cheerleading squad, and it really did require a brain to manipulate a bitch clique like the Cordettes. Willow glanced at the other pad, and noted that it was headlined, in the brunette's bold hand: 'Bronze'.

There were no other papers on the table, to indicate that Delia was taking notes from the Watcher's books.

Willow resumed her leisurely circle around the table, coming to Delia's side. Still no notes to be seen. She wondered what private conclusions about vampires Delia was possibly hiding in that pretty head of hers.

Willow casually reached out, and moved the book in the former cheerleader's hands so that she could read the title.

"Deconstructing The Vampire," she read aloud. Willow looked up into Delia's watchful, brown eyes. "You know this writer is a Watcher kook," the vampire informed.

"I figured," the brunette agreed, though her gaze didn't waver. "But it's still an interesting read. Almost as much as Sex Practices of the Vampire."

Willow smiled at that. "What is it, Delia?" she finally wheedled, deciding to give the brunette a conversational opening before Delia did so first with her usual blunt tact. It was obvious that the Queen was gearing up to say something.

"You staked more than half of Harm's minions last night," Delia declared, her brown eyes sharp. "Why?"

Willow's little vampire feathers suddenly ruffled. No one questioned what she did as Master.

"It was necessary," Willow decided to explain a little patiently, wondering what had motivated this accusatory tone of Delia's. "To emphasize how much you and Anya mean to me. It was for your safety."

"Necessary," Delia repeated. She gazed at Willow pointedly. "And fun, right Will?"

Willow paused, stunned. A part of her snarled, deeply disliking that Delia should judge her in that Queen C tone, but a greater part of her wondered how Delia had arrived at such a conclusion. It was sharp, and accurate.

"Oh yes," she breathed in answer, but while her voice was cute, Willow's eyes were ice. Delia's own, proud browns did not even flinch. She's challenging me, Willow realized. The vampire wasn't sure what Delia was playing at, but she definitely wanted to know the reasons before acting on her own natural desire to...discipline. Delia finally slid her gaze away from Willow's to glance at the tall glass of ice and Diet on the table. She slowly retrieved it, taking a deliberate sip, the ice clinking.

"So what will you do when Anya or I mess up, Will? How will you handle that?" Delia then asked, looking up from the drink she now placed back on the table.

Now Willow understood. Dee was pushing her...testing her. Perhaps seeing if her own pretty face would be shoved into her Pepsi glass.

Willow wondered briefly where Delia's ghostie might be in the room. Possibly with ready stake in invisible hand.

"You and Anya are not minions, Delia," the vampire answered smoothly. Her voice was soft but her eyes were not so deceptively gentle. "You're my partners."

"And does that mean we're a 'hit-free' zone, Will?" Delia demanded, her glare now intensified. "Does that mean 'hands off' when you're pissed?"

Now her Dee was really pushing it. It was no less than what the vampire would expect from her darling, childhood enemy, however. Later, when Willow wasn't too incensed, she'll admire this infuriating, aggravating, and utterly admirable quality of her Queen's; the ability to challenge, however foolishly. This kind of brash, bitch bravado was uniquely Delia's, and something neither Kitten nor Anya could give the vampire. If Willow wasn't busy feeling insulted by Cordelia's bold challenge of her Master rights, she might be amused.

Willow's cold, green eyes narrowed. For a moment, the inner demon fought with the inner, practical Master.

"Yes...Dee," she finally – grudgingly – decided to concede. Harming or threatening Delia, no matter how tempting, would accomplish nothing, even if the vampire indulged in a little show of teeth. It would merely drive away her Sparkle for good. "Willow never touches Delia or Anya like that."

Cordelia gazed hard into Willow's eyes, obviously searching for confirmation in the green depths rather than putting faith to the vampire's words. If there was one fault of being a demon with large, expressive eyes, it was harder to hide one's true nature, and Delia, having let the 'doesn't miss a thing' side of her Queen persona out, would easily see through any placating mask the vampire tried slipping on right now.

"I should ask for that in blood," Cordelia stated finally with a lift of her chin. The haughty Chase-like gesture was an acceptance. Willow could sense Delia's energy stand down just a little from their confrontation.

"Nevermind. I have your word," Delia almost muttered. She sighed, and returned her attention to the vampire. "Although I'd rather you didn't have so much 'fun' with Harm's minions, Will," she added. "They've been good. Dennis keeps an eye on them."

"Of course, Dee," Willow answered noncommittally, her eyes unblinking. Another time, another place, the vampire briefly reflected, focusing on the calming influence of the young woman's steady heartbeat, she would have not hesitated to shove a glass in her Delia's beautiful face for her insolence. Fortunately for the human seated before her, Willow was, supposedly, alot different now.

Cordelia merely leaned back in dad's favorite leather chair and looked back at the vampire. Willow had seemed surprised when Cordy had accused her of having 'fun', but she shouldn't have been. Cordy understood cruelty. She had dished it out enough, and certainly the Watcher books lying on her father's table had made it clear that was what vampires were all about. However, what had been done to the little girl minion had crossed the line of mere cruelty. That was sadism, and Cordy knew that sadists actually enjoyed what they did. Despite Willow's charming considerations – so far – towards herself and Anya, she very much doubted the vampire's 'fun' would just stop at the minions.

She wondered if it would piss off Willow to make the vampire renew her promise to her, every month or so. If it did, well then good.

Troy pulled the newly stolen jeep smartly out of Chase mansion's long driveway, and exited the gates. The sun was finally sinking on the horizon, but he had opted to keep the top on, knowing that a conversation would be conducted between his elders. Harm sat shotgun beside him.

Willow, in the backseat, was preoccupied with licking the faint, fading bruise hidden by glamour on her Kitten's face. She was certain that Delia had never seen it, therefore it could not be the reason that had prompted their tense, and rather terse conversation in the library. It irked the redhead all the same that the mark was still there.

"Felix's nest has their ears to the ground," she heard Harm say to her, from her seat in the front. "And they're hearing the same thing Bar' picked up at Willie's and at the demon poker. Two are rolling into town, either tonight or even tomorrow. One's an ancient guy, and the other's from back east, bringing his whole clan with him."

"Who's the ancient one," Willow asked, gently kissing Kitten's bruise. She mentally chastised herself. Delia was right, she had too much fun with Harm's minions last night. With four out of commission for the night, Harm would not be able to gain her information as quickly.

"Troy, tell Master," Harm said. The blonde vampire would be damned if she tried to pronounce the old vamp's name.

Willow paused in her attention to Kitten. "'The Worst of the Worst'," she murmured to herself.

"Yeah," Harm agreed. She had heard of this ancient dude while in the Order. What a name, to be known as the 'Worst of the Worst'. Pretty cool. "Thought he bought it in Chicago. Supposedly Buff Slayer did him. Anyway, they say he's even older than the Master."

Willow sniffed around her witch's neck. Her girl smelled of fresh, magical, wiccy goodness, thanks to the healing spells she did.

"Once he's here, find out who his lieutenant is," Willow ordered, taking a deep whiff of her warm, yummy Kitty. "Don't approach, hands off. Have Felix send one of his girls for partyin'."

"Gotcha, Wills," Harm affirmed. The boss had given Felix the bar and building on Third and Wilkins that Harmony had given up. By a weird twist of fate, Felix ended up accepting all the female minions left over from Harm's little reign of terror, when she was cleaning up Sunnydale for Will. The minion who was once 'Boot Licker Number 2' in the Aurelius Order immediately turned himself into a 'businessman', offering the services of the female vamps to bleeders who needed that something extra besides some kinky blood suckage. 'No sex', was the rule at bleeder clubs like Heloise's, so the beds at the building on Third and Wilkins were now creaking with paying customers.

And Felix, of course, like Heloise, gave Master Willow her due share of the profits of such thriving business.

"Have Felix notify you immediately of anything about the other vampire," Harm heard her boss further order.

"Okay," Harm answered, frowning a little. She wondered why some vamp from back east should rate more priority than an elder known as 'The Worst'.

"Kakistos is not coming here to challenge the territory of, what would be to him, some little fledgling master," Willow explained to her lieutenant, seeing her confusion. "He's here for Buffy."

Harm nodded her understanding, and Willow felt the immediate distress in her Kitten at the news. Willow looked at her witch.

"Don't worry, baby," Willow whispered. "The Slayers can take care of themselves, you'll see." The young woman's blue eyes were still upset; the vampire knew what her girl wanted to do. "No need to call them," Willow reassured in her ear. "They'll easily find out by themselves." Her Kitten finally nodded. Willow sighed silently. This was one reason why she really should not talk business in front of Kitten.

Slayers worked alone, Buffy had realized, and often, Slayers worked best that way. It was the loner, warrior, Chosen thing. But Ken' didn't have to be alone, not with Buffy here, and Buffy, being stuck in a chair, would no longer have to work alone either.

Buffy watched as Kendra knock another wicked, leech monster from a tree. Larry slugged it with his bat, Amy fireballed it, Oz doused the flames, and Giles shouted his encouragement. She felt a great warmth swell in her chest, from witnessing this togetherness. Total, White Hat camaraderie. Team Slayer made her proud. Had events never stuck her in a chair, she might not have allowed herself the chance to recognize what she had. Slayers rode out alone. In truth, they just didn't see sometimes when they didn't really have to.

"Buffy," she heard above her, feeling Angel's familiar, vampiric presence. "Do giant demon leeches always put such a smile on your face?"

Buffy grinned and readjusted the huge spotlight lamp she was aiming for the benefit of her fellow leech exterminators.

"They sure do," she agreed gaily. "Speared three out of a tree myself. Now I'm the lighting gal. Wanna see if you can ax a few?"

"Naw," Angel declined, shrugging his big shoulders. They both watched Amy shriek when a downed giant leech sidewinded Larry and went for her legs. The dark haired witch incanted fire its way, practically exploding it. "Don't feel like chopping worms tonight."

Buffy looked up, admiring Angel's handsome, rugged profile. "You've got news, don't you," she remarked. "Big Bad comin' to town, type news," she easily guessed. The vampire's chest heaved slightly, giving an undead sigh.

"Yeah, but it can wait after the parasite party," Angel admitted. "It's a good thing you're sitting down," he added.

Buffy returned her attention to the White Hats' next wormy kill. Might as well enjoy the good Slaying mood while it lasted.

"Kitten, go ahead and pick," Willow encouraged, as she wrapped arms around her witch. Beneath the bright, glass domed counter lay trays of fresh donuts of all delectable kinds. If Willow were not a vampire, she might consider it a mouthwatering sight. Instead, they just looked like donuts. Kitten bit her full lower lip and finally pointed at a simple, round, sugared treat. It was a rather plain choice, Willow thought, but in its simplicity, the sugar sprinkled donut was probably the most satisfying of the lot.

"Um, this one, please," Kitten indicated shyly, and Queen C's former Cordette, Andrea, who was now a vampire, quickly fetched one out of the tray and wrapped it in paper.

"Here you go!" Andrea said brightly. In the cheery, pressed uniform, hair and make up done perfectly and with the bright disposition, one would never guess that Andrea was newly Turned. Willow wondered if the fledgling was really this perky or just putting on a show for her benefit.

"Wills," Harm beckoned, indicating one of the donut shop's clean, plastic tables. The floors were completely bright, even during the evening – not a scuff mark anywhere. "Have a seat."

"Tar', would you like anything to drink?" Harm then asked, as Willow sat down with her Kitten.

"Milk, for my Kitten," Willow requested for her witch, and Harmony barked out the order to Andrea. Aurora, also one of Cordelia's former Cordettes, and now also a vampire, stood politely by the table, dressed immaculately as the shop's manager. Willow was beginning to think that none of Delia's high school sheep survived the Hellmouth. Ironic.

"An interesting franchise," Willow murmured, glancing around. "I had never noticed before – " referring to when she was human, and she and Xander would make donut runs for the White Hats. " – how professional this shop was. Rory," Willow then addressed Aurora. "Have a seat."

"Thanks, Willow," Aurora accepted politely, slipping into the chair opposite Tara. Harm came back with milk for Kitten, then took the seat opposite Willow.

"This franchise has strict rules for appearance and cleanliness," Aurora informed, taking off from the comment Willow had made. "We make the best donuts across the country, so we look the part."

"Mmm," Tara couldn't help uttering in pleasure, as she bit into the freshly baked donut. As she wiped sugar from her mouth, she saw Aurora, Harmony, and Willow smiling indulgently at her. Tara blushed.

Willow stared at the sugar on Kitten's lip that her napkin had missed. "Yes, I remember that these were the best donuts," Willow reminisced, watching Kitten eat. "And your human dad owned this shop. Is your human family around?" To Willow's senses, Rory seemed no older than Harm. Andrea, working diligently and perkily behind the counter, was obviously younger.

"Yeah, actually," Aurora affirmed. "I even still live with them. They know I'm a vampire." Willow gave an incredulous look, her attention finally drawn from her Pet. Aurora continued. "They're really openminded. Of course even with me and my weak bloodlust, it's not exactly working out. Like, I tried to eat my human brother this morning. But anyway, my human family's been planning to move to Arizona, so my human dad is selling the shop."

"Rory wants to stay here, though," Harm added. "She already manages the shop and her human dad's willing to sell it to her, except she's not ready right now, financially. She's into the whole, 'gonna make an income and own my own place', thing."

"Harm," Aurora interjected, in a tone that implied that she and the blonde vampire had this conversation before. "Not all of us vamps want to do the whole 'creature of the night' thing, okay? I woke up with weak bloodlust and I can't help being apathetic. I need a job. I need to buy blood. I want decent clothes without having to steal. And me and Andrea do the girls' night out hunting maybe once a month. It's all good."

"Why am I here again?" Willow finally asked. Actually, she already could guess, but in looking at Rory, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be associated professionally with the weak vampire – her signature was entirely unimpressive. The former Cordette was a fledgling childe, but of the disappointing sort that was often culled. Such childer, if their sires or clans did not stake them for the embarrassment they were, either died quicker because they were bad hunters or chose, if they were cunning, to imitate the living. Willow didn't mind if that was what Rory and Andrea wanted to do with their unlives. However, like Harm, Willow couldn't help being a tad elitist.

"Ror' wants to offer you the shop," Harm supplied, before her friend could open her mouth. "It's totally a successful place, Will. And when Rory took over night shift, she slipped 'specials' into the baking batches that bring the vampires and demons in."

"We have a batch freshly baked," Aurora gave, looking at Andrea behind the counter. The young vamp employee shook her head rapidly. "Soon," Aurora added.

Willow looked at her witch for a moment, who was drinking her milk, and realized all the sugar was gone from her mouth. Phooey, she had wanted to lick it off.

"Another donut for my Kitten," she demanded. Harm immediately rose from her seat.

"Oh, um, please," Tara said politely. She had to resist the urge to shake her head 'no', since Willow did ask for it. It felt so impolite being the only person eating at the table. She suddenly felt her vampire's lips on hers, and allowed herself to be kissed.

Willow played with Kitten's mouth as Harm helpfully laid another sugar donut on the table.

"Rory, how come the Order never staked you?" Willow asked, between milky kisses with her Kitten.

"That's one good reason why I didn't kill my human family," Aurora said with glee. To Willow, she sounded like her old Cordette self. "The Order couldn't get to me while I was hiding out in my family's house, and I made sure all my humans stayed in all night. I just played on my human family's sympathies, and they got me bagged to eat, so everything was cool."

"But then you had to go and attack your human brother this morning," Harm added.

"God, he's an idiot," Aurora merely said. "I should try selling him, but he's too stupid to be some vamp's man-bitch." She then noticed Andrea coming over with a freshly baked, chocolate covered donut. Aurora perked up.

"Okay, here we go," she said, as Andrea laid the donut down with a flourish before Willow. "Try that, Will. I came up with the filling recipe myself."

Willow looked at it skeptically. Well, she thought, it did have chocolate on it. She raised the confection to her mouth and took a bite. Something hot and jelly like squished into her mouth, but it was the flavor, not the textures, that took her by surprise. It was spicy, sweet, it was chocolate, and it was –

"Blood," she exclaimed, wide eyed, as she chewed what was in her mouth. Rory and Harm beamed back at her.

"Right after dusk, I have the girls start the secret batches," Rory informed, and Willow, as she ate more of the donut, realized that the shop had been humming with customer activity – undead and demon activity, mixed in with the human customers. "We sell out really quick, cuz they get bought by the dozen. But brethren will wait for the fresh batches to come out. I've hired an all vampire night crew and we keep the shop open 24 hours."

"And they sell, Will, every hour," Harm interrupted. "Heloise's pet boy is in here practically every other night, picking up a half dozen for his Mistress."

"She likes a mixed box," Aurora gave, her tone gossipy. Willow licked her fingers and smiled.

"And the franchise?" Willow asked. Scrutiny from a nationwide franchise was not what a vampire needed.

"They don't ask, we have nothing to tell," Aurora stated with a grin. "That's Sunnydale."

Willow's eyes half closed in contentment and she put an arm around her warm Kitten. "Show me your books," she finally requested.

The core Scooby group, which really only consisted of Buffy and Giles, since the death of Xander and Will, sat quietly in the Summers' living room. Buffy was lying on her back. Joyce sat in stunned silence on the couch, along with Giles. Kendra was seated opposite them.

Angel finally emerged from the shadows of the living room, having not sat down with the family.

"I'll go out again, see if I hear anything," he offered. He drifted silently out the front door, without anyone really acknowledging his offer. Buffy stared at the familiar terrain of the ceiling.

"Joyce," Giles murmured, completely taken aback. He had never heard the eldest Summers woman speak in such a vehement fashion. But then he'd never had a child ruthlessly hunted by an elder vampire, either.

"Mom used to say that alot, in Chicago," Buffy explained casually from the floor, as if to reassure her Watcher that her mother wasn't that seriously vengeful. Much. Maybe it was time to tell Giles about what really happened to dad.

"We will take care of de 'Worst'," Kendra pledged, the Jamaican Slayer easily sidestepping having to pronounce the ancient vampire's name. "Do not worry, Mrs. Summers."

"Plan," Buffy suddenly outlined. "I draw him out, we all do the Battle Royale on His Ugliness, Ken' stakes him, end of Ug."

"You know he's coming to town for one thing: Me," Buffy retorted, looking up at her Watcher from the floor.

"You know, Mom never swears unless it comes to Taquitos," Buffy commented almost smugly from where she lay. She craned her neck to look at Kendra.

They shared a look; Kendra with her proud, steely resolve and Buffy with her knowing, warrior regard. Learning that Mr. Ancient Vamp was still unliving had scared the bejeezus out of her, Buffy had to admit. He had been the toughest – and scariest – thing Buffy had ever faced besides the Master. Now he was coming for her and here she was, with no legs.

"You'll not touch her again! I'll pull your little legs off!" she heard her Mum scold in the hallway. *THWAK*

Willow hurriedly left her bed, then ran back to retrieve her short, silk, red robe and pull it on. The time of day felt like before noon and Kitten would still be horsey ridin', possibly. Why was Mum up?

She found her Sire in the hallway, beating the floor with Kitten's broom. She had on her dressing robe too, although hers hung open, just like Willow's.

"Hold still!! I've somethin' for the likes of you!" Dru cajoled, then smacked the floor with the flat of the broom again.

"HeeHeeHeee!!" she giggled, pointing at her Sire. Around Mummy's large dark eyes and across her nose were crudely drawn, black glasses.

"See it, then!" Dru accused, now pointing to her own face. "I have it too, do I? They drew the same on Miss Edith, bad, bad brown things!" She struck the floor with her broom again.

"Why? What, who?" Willow asked, her mirth gone in her perplexity. What was in the house? What invisible brown things?

"Willow? Dru?" she heard Kitten query behind her. Willow turned and saw her witch approaching them from the staircase, her cowgirl hat in hand. Ooo, she loved denim Kitty!

"Kitten!" Willow breathed, and then to her utter surprise, Kitten abruptly laughed at her, her free hand going to her abdomen.

"What," the blonde girl gasped. "What have you been up to, my little man?" Kitten added saucily, with a full blown Tara-grin.

"Nothing!" Willow exclaimed. Little man?? She looked down at herself – specifically her crotch, thinking something 'extra' might have made a magical appearance last night. Then she touched her face, realization dawning. "What got drawn on me??"

"You, you have a cute little mustache and a goatee," Her Kitten supplied, going over to put her hat on the vampire's head and to playfully touch her nose. Kitten radiated warmth, and she smelled of mountain winds and sunshine. "Why does Dru have glasses?"

"Cos I can see them," Dru announced, pointing at her own circled eyes. "Miss Edith and I! Little brown men shall have no supper nor pants for their bottoms, I'll see to that!"

"Little brown – little brown – I have Brownies in my house?!" Willow cried. She turned to Kitten. "Are Brownies bad? Will they hide the toys? Is this what the sylph sends me? Well if they're going to be trouble, then I want them – Um – " Willow ended her tirade suddenly, realizing that anything she said could be taken in various different ways by the capricious Little Folk.

"Yes, I want everyone to be happy," Willow acknowledged warily, looking at Kitten. Her witch was going to have to assure her that these Brownies were good for her House, and soon. She heard her Sire stamp her bare foot.

"Help Miss Edith!" she demanded. When Kitten moved to her, Dru swept around dramatically, fully expecting to be followed. Willow stopped her Kitten with a hand on her arm.

"Did you get drawn on too?" she asked curiously. She'd only wakened briefly this morning when Kitten left for the horsie ranch.

"Oh, um, I thought you did it," her witch grinned, showing Willow the back of her hands. Decorating her pale skin were intricately done flowers. It was appropriate; Mum was a seer, and Kitten was her earth girl. Willow hoped the Brownies didn't make this graffiti pastime a habit. "And on my feet, too," Kitten added. "I was going to ask, because I didn't know you drew too."

"I can't, really," Willow admitted. Everyone else in the immediate Family had talent or were artistically trained. Even Kitten was an artist. Her witch touched the vampire's face again, smiling.

"Because you are the – " Kitten touched her nose again. " – little man of the house," she finally declared, with a Kitten-wink, and took hold of the brim of her hat on Willow's head and gave it a playful shake.

The little man of the house discovered that when she returned to her bedroom, her bed had already been neatly made by the Little Men. She also found that when she left the bath suite in purposeful disarray and then reentered, it was entirely straightened out, and sparkling clean. Willow wasn't sure what to make of her new little housekeepers. Kitten had explained that Brownies helped because they liked to, and didn't like to be acknowledged as doing such work. Thus, Willow was left with willful, invisible housekeepers who obviously weren't going to work on demand, but at least did some work. Help from the Folk, Willow groused. She wouldn't be writing them any glowing recommendations any time soon, that was for sure. After making sure that she had scrubbed all of her manly mustache and goatee off, Willow picked up her gloves and coat, and got ready to take her Kitten to Sunnydale Harbor.

Joyce moved about in her small office in the back of her gallery and realized she was too agitated.

All morning she had been a little useless – and on a Saturday too, when the art browsers could easily become buyers. Her assistant, thankfully, was taking up some of her slack on the gallery floor. Thoughts of Kakistos weighed heavily on her mind. Unlike past foes her daughter had faced or would possibly face in the future, Joyce could not pretend this particular personal enemy away. She usually could delude herself into putting faith into Buffy's Slayer abilities or even convince herself that things would always be okay, but Kakistos – Kakistos broke through all her maintained illusions.

Joyce paced. She knew Buffy thought her mother's slight obsession with the ancient vampire was due to Hank having been Turned by the bastard. That was true, but not in the way Buffy idealistically thought. Joyce hadn't been in love anymore with Hank when she had to stake him. They hadn't been in love with each other for a long time before that, even before the divorce. What made Joyce so angry was the fact that she had been depending on Hank back then to really be a father again to the girls, even if just a divorced dad.

Telling him about their daughter's calling, and the grave danger they were in at the time, seemed to finally turn that philandering, self-centered – Hank could see any little floozies he wanted, but being late with the child support? Gah!! – ex of hers around and make him really commit to the girls. She had believed he had sincerely wanted to help. And then Kakistos got to him – took away her children's father, forced her to stake him, and not only that, that bastard sent vamped Hank on purpose to terrorize her babies.

"Lynne," she called to her assistant as she made her way determinedly for the gallery entrance. "I'm taking a break. Be back in half hour." Joyce headed out into the sun and down Main Street, her eyes set on the Magic Box.

Tara ran her hand along the warm, sunkissed cabin wall of the new yacht, sensing its solidity and sturdiness. Moored in its private dock in Sunnydale's recreational harbor, the ship rolled pleasantly with the ocean's lulling waves. Tara had never been on a boat before. This was the beauty of California, the ability to experience the extremes of desert, snow, or high mountains on one side, and then sea and beach on the other, all within a few hours drive of each other. The insistent, salty sea wind whipped her hair and skirt and she heard the cry of seagulls. Tara felt a bubble of joyous laughter rise within her.

She glanced back at Niko, the satyr demon, who watched her with a pleasant twinkle in his gray eyes. She shyly made a gesture with her own eyes to the top of the cabin. She wished to go above. Niko's satyr companion stoically offered a large hand and helped Tara up the cabin's ladder.

Willow watched her Kitten move to the top of the yacht, then kneel, preparing for her spell. The vampire wanted to stand there beside her, but the safety of the eaves she waited underneath, in front of the harbor's picturesque Greek taverna, was the best she could do. She also chastised herself for not thinking to bring a camera. She had never accompanied her Kitten out into the wide open blue before, never watched her witch move so freely beneath her mother sun and have father wind flirt constantly with her hair and body. She looked so beautiful.

It took half an hour for her Kitten to make her supplications to her Goddess, align herself with Her life force, and weave her protection spell, blessing the ship. When Kitten finally closed her spell, Willow could hear the approving grunts of Theslokos' brethren around her, the demon equivalent of applause. She waited, happy and impatient, as Niko and his companion helped her witch off their yacht.

"Kitten," Willow breathed, when her girl finally approached her. The sea winds had reddened her girl's cheeks slightly, and her blue eyes were bright. Her honey hair blew about her face, shining in the sunlight. Willow regretted that Kitten had to join her in the shade. "Theslokos would like to see you."

Immediately, trepidation could be seen in her girl's eyes, as she nervously took Willow's offered gloved hand.

"Just a thank you," Willow assured. "Nothing else. Come, baby," she encouraged gently, as Niko's companion politely held the taverna's door open for them.

The second floor of the taverna was also a dining area, but it was empty, save for the end next to the windows, which held figures mysteriously shrouded in shadow. Having come in from the sun, Tara had to blink to readjust her vision, yet all she could see was a cloak of darkness in that corner; not a malevolent darkness, merely...

A spell, she thought. A spell to confuse, and to shield. She felt the cloak weaken slightly as she approached. She came to a hesitant standstill, Willow having let go of her hand long before they crossed the room. Tara stood before a seated, long bodied, muscular male, practically eight feet in length, his red, rich skin dark like wine and his row of incisors like white, sharp bones against his curled lips. His eye sockets, between his twisting horns, were black caverns, and Tara was afraid to look too closely in them. Beside him, leaning against his broad shoulder, was a human woman, and her wide, staring eyes held a wildness, not unlike the unleashed dark within Dru. Tara was aware of the overwhelming scent that surrounded them both; of rich earth, plants, magic, wine, blood, and flesh. He was a fertility being, she realized. He was the embodiment of that jungle darkness that inspired animalistic carnality, seed repeatedly spilt on soil to sow life. Tara felt even more nervous, so close to such energies. Tonight was the start of her cycle. Her own presence probably screamed virginal, fertile vessel to the demon.

"Evgnommmosssyniii," the demon spoke, in a deep, rumbling tone, his teeth flashing as he pronounced an ancient Greek tongue.

"My Lord Theslokos thanks you for blessing his craft," Niko translated politely.

"Th-Thank you," Tara answered shyly, embarrassed by the attention. "For asking me t-to perform the ritual."

"Epithymiiiia Sasss," the demon said, a fire sparking briefly in his eye caverns, as if he were amused.

"Theslokos wishes to give you something you desire," Niko added solemnly, and his gray eyes were meaningful, as his bearded chin lowered slightly.

Tara broke her gaze with Theslokos, the request having made her nervous. Her blue eyes darted like fleeing deer, to the side, to the ceiling, and then to the floor. She had no idea what to say.

"Kitten loves animals," she heard Willow suggest, her soft voice almost comforting. "Especially horses. There are sanctuaries that keep old or abused horses happy, and that makes Kitten happy."

"Done," Niko said, smiling. "My Lord will see to the happiness of such sanctuaries."

Tara inhaled, self-consciously grateful. "Thank you, Sir," she murmured sincerely, looking at the seated demon once more. She smiled shyly. The elder demon's gesture genuinely made her happy.

"Kitten," Willow said to her, holding out her gloved hand. Tara automatically moved to take it, and Willow whispered for her to wait downstairs. In relief, she did as asked, realizing she was being dismissed. She looked back only briefly at the seated demon and his female companion, before leaving the room.

"Dearrr,", Theslokos thoughtfully said, his deep rumble stretching the word out like an exhale.

Willow thought for a moment, realizing that he was referring to her Kitten. "Yes," she replied. "She is."

"Should you tire of her," Niko said rather carefully. "Theslokos offers the child...sanctuary."

At the words, Willow immediately saw red. Such a blatant offer for Kitten sounded benevolent, but from another demon it only implied that she was unfit to keep her Pet healthy and alive. She stood still, forcing her irrational, demonic reaction down. Responding in anger would only give credance to Theslokos' offer.

"Your interest," she managed to say calmly. "Is noted. But I have no intention of letting her go, anytime soon."

"Think of my Lord's offer," Niko replied, with polite solemnity. "As aid freely given the child, should you have need of it."

The implication of such words nearly had Willow lash out again. Did they really think her so incompetent?? She focused desperately on the room's heartbeats to keep her calm. She merely nodded her understanding.

"I should join my Kitten," Willow then said stiffly, and gave her formal farewells.

Once the vampire had left, Niko looked at his master, who sat in grinning contemplation, his chest rumbling as he breathed. The woman next to him raised a single finger to her face, thoughtfully tracing the side of it. She gazed at Niko.

"Yes," was all Niko said. He turned his attention to the windows facing the harbor, where he could see the vampire emerge from her umbrella in order to board the vehicle they had given her Pet. His Master's woman had deigned to give only one silent comment about the pure witch, and it had been in reference to the near invisible, healed mark on the earth child's face, obviously made by the young vampire's hand. Niko, having experienced less than his master but more than most demons in his several centuries of living, did not realistically expect the female innocent lasting until the end of the year in the care of the new, and very young Master of Sunnydale.

Willow let Kitten decide what to do for the rest of the afternoon. They did not drive far from the picturesque harbor, Tara still enamored of viewing the ocean, especially on such a beautiful day. She found the harbor's green common with its modest, maritime museum, and spread the Greek repast – a gift from the taverna – under some shady trees there. Willow safely joined her on the blanket and looked out at the waters with her.

"Mm? No...just thinking," Willow said vaguely, as she watched the sun sparkle on the waters.

Tara sipped from her water bottle and realized that she had unpacked too many food stuffs. Willow could only make a token effort of eating with her.

Willow, privately, was all too aware today of how very not human she was; surrounded by food she did not care to eat, sitting in the shade when other picnic couples were seated out in the sun. Willow scowled, never having ever cared before about such things. She felt Kitten lightly touch her face.

Willow heaved an undead sigh and threw herself into Kitten's lap, her head against her witch's tummy. She felt gentle fingers run through her hair.

"You're almost starting," she suddenly discovered, easily smelling the difference in Kitten. "Maybe tonight." She felt her girl tense a little, surprised by the vampire's accurate observation.

"O-Or sooner," she heard her witch say, self-consciously. "I think, um, b-being near him..." She was referring to Theslokos. "S-Sort of..."

"Made your clock tick faster?" Willow said in her lap, now grinning. She knew something of what Theslokos' old purpose had been, once upon a time in the country of his origins, so she was not surprised that Kitten's body had responded to him. She didn't have to look at Kitten to know she was blushing.

He wanted you, Willow almost wanted to say, knowing that was something Kitten would be too embarrassed to hear. It was more than just want, though; if it were just that, Theslokos would have simply asked for Kitten, not offered his 'unconditional' protection. The demon had judged Kitten a valuable possession, meant to be kept safe. Theslokos and his brethren fully expected Willow to fail in taking care of her girl, if not actually tire of this beautiful woman. She wanted to fling back into their knowing faces that no one would be able to take care of Kitten as well as she could but Willow knew, as she watched the other humans lounge freely in the sun, that such a boast would be an immediate lie. Willow was a vampire, and such an un-existence came with its undeniable differences...and shortcomings.

"Of the Greek gods...who would you serve?" Willow murmured quietly, as she lay in Kitten's lap.

"I mean, you could fit in with so many of them," Willow explained, thinking of Theslokos, and the kinds of human women he kept – all earth sorceresses, like her Kitten. "Like Dionysus, with his grape growing, and orgiastic rites – "

"That's, um, a little too wild woman, for me," Kitten interrupted, with a grin in her voice.

"Or Artemis? She's all virgin-y, and you know, with the maidens and the moon and animals, and oh, the whole 'no man can look at me' thing – "

"Aphrodite," Willow said eagerly, turning to look up at Kitten. "Lovegoddess sexywoman. Seductress, temptress – "

"I think," Tara said, trying to look thoughtful, though there was mirth in her eyes. "You're thinking of Circe. But no. Aphrodite is sort of...all about her."

Willow frowned. Kitten was sure to poo poo Ceres too. Or maybe not. And Athena? Too stern.

"I am Gaia," Tara finally said simply, looking down at the vampire. "I love all things."

"I actually can't summon a vengeance demon for you," Anya said. "There are rules. Demons enacting vengeance on other demons. It upsets the balance."

"I'm not asking for demon help," Joyce explained, exasperated, for what might've been the tenth time. "I just want Tara's number."

"And asking for Tara's help when it's your daughter's Slayer responsibility to deal with vampires like Kakistos is just not – " Anya finally put her inventory print out down, irritated. "Well it's just not good for Tara!" she declared, finally revealing her worry. She had been trying to deflect Joyce-mom's request ever since she had entered the shop. Usually the former demon was very successful at that – deflection. However, Joyce-mom seemed very good herself at seeing through Anya's feigned obtuseness.

"Buffy killed the Master," Anya then pointed out, picking up her list again. "Surely Kendra's due for a rite of initiation – if Slayers did such things. What better way to commemorate her short, violent life than by slaying her own 700 plus year old vampire?"

Joyce stared at the 1000 plus old former demon, disguised as a young girl, who was trying her best to ignore her again. Unlike everyone else in the Slayer circle, Joyce knew Tara was the one who really killed the Master. It was admirable of Anya to protect her friend but Joyce was a mother who had a daughter to protect too.

"I don't think Buffy could have done what she...did, without Tara," Joyce finally explained. "I know it's dangerous, but with Tara helping it would only make the odds better. At least let me ask her. It's her decision to make."

Anya put her inventory list down again. Tara would say yes, just like she had last time. Anya had tried so hard then to dissuade the blonde witch, but her friend went to fight the Master anyway.

"You can't call Tara about this, you have to talk to Willow," Anya finally said, which was the truth. For once, being Willow's Pet was working in Tara's favor. If Willow actually said yes, she wouldn't let Tara go unless she was completely certain no harm would come to her Pet.

Joyce exhaled in relief. Now they were getting somewhere. "This is that medieval system of doing things, isn't it?" she remarked. "All right, let's have Willow's number."

Willow felt dusk fall even while she stood in her Sanctum, studying her conjured Sunnydale map. Kitten was drawing a bath for herself and Willow wanted business over as soon as possible so she could be there while her girl bathed. She had excused Kitten from Pet games in her Sanctum tonight, and it didn't escape her attention when her witch's deep relief became briefly evident in those soft, blue eyes. Kitty deserved a night's reprieve from being Master's Pet.

Willow did not look at her lieutenant, only pointing at her phantom map instead. She indicated two different clusters of dark red dots. They represented new Brethren in her town. One dot in particular, pulsated brightly, indicative of power.

"Kakistos," Willow murmured. Harm nodded her understanding, snapping her gum. The redhead then pointed to the docks. "And there is a newly formed nest here. Possibly the vanguard of the one arriving from the east coast."

"Felix is on it, finding out what's what," Harm provided. "Once the head honcho rolls into town, Felix'll do like you told him."

"Good," Willow acknowledged, then pointed to City Hall. Within the facility were a few of their kin. Their number never seemed to change, and though Willow could not keep track of such vampires individually, she had often noted their near constant presence in the Mayor's building. Throughout the scourge period where she had Harm rid the town of the other lesser brethren, Willow had decided to merely keep an eye on the 'City Hall' group.

"From what Felix says," Harm informed. "The Mayor likes to keep some vamp muscle. Our Father didn't pay much attention to it, at least in the months Felix spent here with the Order when Father got out of hell and then started running Sunnydale."

"As far as he knows, they never dealt with each other?" Willow asked. Since the Mayor kept vamps, she had wondered if the Mayor's people would, at some point, approach her now that she had taken over as vampire Master. Harm only shook her head at the query.

"See if any of Felix's girls have partied with any of the Mayor's 'muscle'," Willow ordered thoughtfully. Father – the Master of the Order – probably would have gotten around to dealing with Mayor Wilkins at some point, then. A human man who knew about vampires and therefore, about the Hellmouth, was not to be overlooked. "And if Felix finds anything out about Kakistos tonight, you can let me know tomorrow. Also." And she drew a finger on her phantom map where earthy brown dots glowed, in Sunnydale Forest. "Make sure the kids train hard. You'll be wiping out some weres, come Monday."

"By the way," Harm mentioned, knowing the meeting was over. "Rory sends you a thank you. A homemade bottle and a box of 'specials' are in the kitchen, and a box of regular for Tar'."

"Don't tell me Rory tapped her stupid virgin brother," Willow grimaced. Homemade bottled could be so suspect, depending on the giver.

"Nah Wills, it's a bottle of girls school," Harm said, grinning. "Exclusive," the blonde vampire added. "Virgin, and from St. Helen's on the hill."

"The," Willow breathed, eyes half closing with delight. "Boarding school?" Now that, Willow mentally salivated. Would be yummy hunting grounds. That, or a nice big coven of goodly witches.

"She went out?...Donut run? But what about Kakistos, Rupert?" Joyce demanded. She listened to the Englishman a while, as she stood in her kitchen with the phone. "Angel's still looking for him?....Well, all right. Did Buffy wear a jacket? Make sure she wears a jacket tonight. And let me know when you hear anything."

Joyce bade the Watcher farewell and sighed heavily. She hung up the phone. Even paralyzed, Buffy still managed to run around at night and not stay home. Joyce hardly ever saw her daughter, it seemed.

"No you're not," Joyce called firmly. "Not tonight." She left the kitchen to catch her younger daughter's eye.

"But," Dawn protested, already morphing into the living embodiment of young girl indignation. "I did all my homework and you promised!"

"It's always about Buffy!! It's always about her!!" Dawn yelled hysterically, stomping her way rapidly up the stairs.

"Dawn!" Joyce called sharply, only to be answered by the sharp slam of an irate teen's door.

Five minutes, Joyce decided, breathing slowly. Five minutes for her youngest to cool down – or not – and then she'll go up and deal with it. Joyce let out a deep breath and realized she had crumpled something up in her agitation. She looked at the paper in her hand: Vampire Willow's phone number. Joyce went to her purse to put the number away for safekeeping. The normally, very forward Anya had actually cautioned Joyce about calling the vampire tonight.

"Sex games," the young woman had shockingly confided to Joyce. "Saturdays are when she and Tara have scheduled playtime orgasms."

God forbid that Joyce should interrupt a vampire's interesting sexual pastimes, although she was thinking that such an interruption would be easier to handle than interrupting her own child's tantrum. Wishing that she too could be as busily distracted as Willow probably was at that very moment, Joyce made her weary, determined way up the stairs.

Tara lolled against the rolled towel supporting her neck and watched the steam rise from her bath with half closed, sleepy eyes. Tendrils of damp hair had escaped her twist, sticking to her face, but she didn't bother to raise a wet hand to brush them away. It was 'lazy' time, and she was happy to just 'be'. Simply put, 'girl', 'in tub', 'hot bubble bath'. She was tempted to doze, but there was the matter of a red haired vampire, kneeling by the tub's edge, resting her head on a prone arm and gazing at Tara with big, cute, green eyes. With attention like that, it was a bit hard for Tara to imagine herself alone with her scented bubbles.

Especially, and rather ironically, Tara added to herself, when Willow was so uncharacteristically quiet, and uncharacteristically so fully clothed.

It was on the tip of Tara's tongue to ask if things were all right, but she was beginning to realize that she had asked that question already today. Perhaps on several occasions. This was a bit of a new development, seeing the introspective side of her vampire. She had yet to figure out if this was a good thing, because, considering what kind of mind Willow had, anything could be going on in that not so innocent head of hers.

"Happy, Kitten?" she heard Willow ask softly. It was like a statue suddenly speaking. The vampire made no movement at all.

"Yes," she answered, giving Willow a small smile. Willow smiled briefly back. She obviously wanted to say something.

"Um," Willow said. Her eyes never left Tara, but her free hand went out to touch the white bed of floating bubbles with a finger, twirling in the foam and making a hole. She continued in a small voice that only seemed to get smaller. "Um...I r-really...um...liked. Well, I mean, um...I j-just..." She couldn't stop looking wide eyed at Tara, but neither could her agitated finger stop making holes in all of the foamy, bath bubbles.

Tara was perplexed. She had never heard Willow so inarticulate. It was another 'uncharacteristic' and a little disturbing. Whatever her vampire was trying to say was obviously very difficult for her, so Tara looked as receptive as possible – while all flushed and sitting naked in rapidly disintegrating bubbles – and put her patience hat on.

Willow, for her part, realized how stupid she was looking, and sounding. And killing all of her Kitten's bubble foam wasn't helping either. She was trying to say – she took a mental unbreath – she was fumbling her hardest to say something awfully simple. She just wanted Kitten to know that she enjoyed submitting to her. A real submission – a real, I give up unto you submission. It was unlike submitting to Sire, and it was unlike submitting against will. Kitten's dominance, with its strength and its benevolence, was not torture, nor threat, nor malicious darkness. It was...protective, and Willow found herself inexplicably lost to it. A new bond of intimacy had been created between her and Kitten.

Willow, unfortunately, could not seem to find her proper speaking mouth for sharing such thoughts with her Kitten. These realizations were just too new, and her demonic nature could barely handle them. Though she personally knew things had changed between her and Kitten because of her submission, acknowledging it outloud would make the change irrevocable and undeniable. And then Kitten would know, and things would never be the same.

Willow sometimes wished she were more of a woman than demon. If she were any kind of woman, she'd be able to handle this eventuality, this change, but obviously she was not, as evidenced by her inadequate mouth. So she fell back on demony instinct. If anything, basic horndog Willow always managed to find a way to communicate somehow with Kitten, even if under the guise of pervyness.

She abandoned her verbal fumbling and finally removed her destructive finger from Kitten's last dying bubbles. She reached down beside her and brought up the present she had snuck into the suite while Kitten was soaking.

Tara watched Willow carefully place a flat, white, gift box upon the bath's edge.

"Oh," she said, in soft surprise, realizing that whatever Willow had been trying to say, she had finally given up on. "For me?"

"Uh huh," Willow acknowledged, big eyed. She watched as Kitten raised a flushed, soapy hand, and carefully removed the box's top. The candlelight in the bath suite lit up silver metal, making it shine.

"Oh...oh Will," Tara exclaimed under her breath, staring at engraved, silver spurs. The pair were obviously custom done, the word 'KITTEN' boldly stamped along their sturdy lengths. Leather straps were included, ready to hook spurs to boots.

"Thank you, darling," Tara said sincerely, as she lifted one. "B-But I don't use these on horses," she added self-consciously, hoping she didn't hurt her vampire's feelings.

Tara stared at the vampire, open mouthed. Willow rested her head on her arm again, her free hand back to trailing in the water.

"P-P-Pony?" Tara stuttered. "P-Pony pony. You mean, pony...pony. Pony," she added lamely, getting a vision of Willow with horse ears and a tail. Well the ears were just a fabrication, but the blonde witch knew that horse tails for human (and in this case, vampire) 'ponies' were...um, possible. Tara, thanks to her participation in her local gay community, knew about fetishes, and that had led to learning about other, quite unique fetishes. Confessing to liking horses, in casual conversation with leather folk, can learn a country girl a few things.

"I can get a li'l Will'o bridle," Willow said cutely, the idea beginning to perk her out of her quiet mood. "And a saddle – "

"Wait," Tara interrupted firmly. Willow's face immediately fell, hearing that rare, almost stern tone from Kitten. "I'm not going to use these on you," Tara continued, holding up the wicked looking spur in question. Privately, Willow didn't think they would hurt that much – they weren't even sharp.

"And no saddles for you," Tara interrupted. She took the spur and carefully, to Willow's surprise, caressed the vampire's cheek with it. She gently ran the cool, rotating metal along the vampire's chin and down, rolling the spur along her throat. Willow shivered, feeling the dull bite of the spur's teeth at her dead jugular. "You're a bad little Willow bronco," she heard Kitten admonish. "You don't get ridden until you're broken in."

"Whinny!" Willow said, not sounding like a horse at all. Tara laughed in her bath, laying the spur back in its box.

"You don't even like horses," Tara pointed out, giving the vampire a knowing look. "But you want to be my pony?"

"Yes ma'am," Willow breathed, her face eager. She rested her head submissively again on her arm and made circles in the water with her hand, looking up at Kitten.

"Okay, then," her witch agreed, and leaned over, intending to seal the agreement with a kiss. Willow got up again and complied eagerly. As soon as their mouths parted, Tara settled back into her bath.

"Not strict pony play," she murmured, her eyes lidded, as if she were going over how this would work. "It'll be too weird..." Tara grinned. "Even for you."

"Okie doke," Willow easily agreed. She didn't care how Kitten ran their play; as long as she got 'spurred' and taken for a rough rodeo ridin', it was all fine with her.

"Yee hah!" she exclaimed, and Kitten laughed again. Then Willow bit her lip, because there was something else she wanted to give Kitten. She reached down for the long box she'd also snuck into the suite.

"Hope you like it," Willow whispered in a small voice, thinking perhaps this wasn't yet the right time to give such a present.

Curious as to what could be causing her vampire's trepidation, Tara lifted the white lid.

"It's – It's not real! Totally fake!" Willow hastily reassured, not really sure what aspect of the gift had freaked her girl out.

"It – " Tara gulped. "I would hope fake! Willow, it's...good god!" she couldn't help exclaiming once again.

Willow lifted the lid, displaying the gift, despite her witch's grimace. "It's, it's kinda big, isn't it," she said. "And maybe you've never seen a..." Her witch quickly shook her head. "...real, human...oh, well okay. So! All vein-y, see, and, look! Balls! And this, this present's not exactly for you, cos you've never – but more for me, the do-ee, so, it looks like this is a gift, kinda f-for, me, again," Willow finished lamely, realizing that somehow she made all this gift giving all about her. Gee, demonically self-centered, much?

"'M sorry, Kitten," Willow mumbled, putting the lid back on. "I just...I thought, maybe you could ride me hard. That's all. I shouldn'a offered it, especially when you just got me that glass toy. Which I love," she reassured hastily. This wasn't going very well, she thought desperately, seeing her witch's face.

"Ride," Tara repeated, possibly not having heard the rest of what Willow had said.

"Y'know, fuck me like an animal," Willow suggested. When her witch said nothing, staring at her, Willow shuffled self-consciously. "You're offended," she murmured.

"N-Neither," Tara ejected finally. "It's just that – Willow, I'll be hung like a horse!"

Tara, plus...humongous strap on, the young witch was trying to imagine to herself. She just didn't get it. Frankly, if Willow wanted her to strap one on, she'd rather something less...ridiculous looking.

Willow however, brightened at her girl's statement. Kitten was just shocked by the size, then!

"You'll just be as thick as Angelus!" she happily assured. "It'll fit inside me, promise, Kitten!"

Tara gaped. Since when did Willow and – ? She shut her mouth again. It had to be a dimensional hop reference. She also wasn't in the mood right now for a discussion of why Willow would want her as endowed as Angelus. Angel. Angelus.

"You're, you're going to have to make it up to me, for giving me stuff really meant for you, Willow," Kitten finally chastised, her blue eyes looking a bit fed up with her vampire.

"I'm sorry," Willow said again, and she was suitably contrite. Kitten was right, Kitten deserved better. "Make love?" she offered, holding her arms out.

Tara felt like she hadn't heard right. Willow never – not once had she ever said, 'make love'. She had no idea why or how it came to be, that Willow was saying it so innocently now. Tara could not help questioning it. She looked into sincere green eyes and saw – Willow really meant it.

"Yes," Tara agreed quickly, hoping she wasn't dreaming. She moved to rise from the bath, and then felt a painful twinge in her abdomen. She settled down again, touching her middle.

"Yes," Tara now grumbled, utterly cross that just when Willow should offer something truly loving, her body was not feeling exactly up to receiving it. "M-Maybe we can just make out, instead?" she asked hopefully.

"Okay!" Willow agreed. "And can I eat you out, later? When you're menstruating?"

Good god, Tara mentally exclaimed, unsure if she could get any more shocked tonight.

Since Kitten had settled down again, Willow took that opportunity to knock one of her rubber devil duckies into the water.

"...and fast, really, really fast. And hard. I'd say the Master moved alot slicker, like a cobra? But Taquitos, even with those hooved hands and feet, he can really move. And when he tags you, it's like being hit by a dump truck," Buffy related to Kendra, as she wheeled herself through the parking lot of Sunnydale's most popular donut shop. They were on a mission to get fried dough goodness for the gang back at the school library. Buffy never usually came out for a donut run – the guys liked to volunteer for that job – but considering that she was wheelchair bound, it was the least she could do for the Saturday evening White Hats meeting. It also gave her and Ken' time to privately discuss Taquitos.

"Yeah, hopefully still does, even tho' an ancient vamp like him could regenerate a new one in the years he's been AWOL. Giles doesn't think that's happened, because when I tried to stab his ugly face I used a blessed knife. Don't rely on his one-eyedness as a weakness though," Buffy warned, as they approached the donut shop's door. "He can tag you blind just by relying on the other vamp senses." Kendra opened the door for her. They were immediately hit by vamp signatures.

Kendra rushed forward and grabbed the fledging by the throat, her stake already in hand.

"OmigawdOmigawdOmigawd," Andrea babbled, even as she was being held aloft. "Rory!!" she squeaked out.

Kendra quickly set the girl vamp down, hiding her stake, just as two of Sunnydale's finest entered the shop.

"And-And, you better stay away from my boyfriend, Andrea, if you know what's good for you!" Buffy suddenly improvised, glaring in indignation at the flustered fledgling behind the counter. Kendra merely stood in stoic indifference, as the two uniformed policemen waited behind the girls, assessing the situation.

"Okay! Sure! I'll never do it again!" Andrea blurted brightly, her pressed blouse front all rumpled.

"What's this now, Summers?" one of the cops said in a friendly tone that was definitely insincere. "Boy trouble? And resorting to other girls doing the talking for you?" the man added, referring to Kendra.

"Looks like a wheelchair can't keep this Summers kid down," his partner joked, referring to Buffy's less than friendly history with the local law.

"Nevermind her, officers, we all know Andrea's a hussy," a voice declared from across the shop, near an office door. Aurora stood there, arms folded, looking amused at the situation. "Andy, get our guys their usual."

"Sure Rory!" Andrea squeaked, quickly filling a box and pouring out coffee. Buffy glanced at Kendra, both Slayers fully aware that Aurora was giving off vamp signals as well. Now that the cops were, by appearances, distracted by Andrea and her nervously cheery bantering, Buffy rolled her chair over to the new vamp gazing condescendingly at them. Buffy wasn't sure why the vampire had just covered for her and Ken', but she wasn't about to give the fledge the pleasure of whatever it was she was planning.

"Well look at you," Rory snarked, in a very Cordette fashion. "Ran out of geek minions to send for your snacks? Oh wait, I remember, your two best geeks are dead."

"Woops!" Buffy remarked, as her chair rolled over one of Aurora's toes. "Forgot to brake. So! Rory," Buffy exclaimed, looking up at the now grimacing vampire. "Since when did the rest of Cordy's Cordettes get Turned? No, nevermind that, I don't really care. The real question is, since when did vampires get into the donut selling business?"

"Since you screwed up, forgot how to save lives, and let me and Andrea get Turned," Rory sneered. Buffy rolled over her foot again, abruptly shutting her up.

"Woops," Buffy exclaimed. "Your floor must be slanted or something, Ror'." She looked up again. "You. Donuts. Spill."

"Not all of us wants to run around in graveyards and let you chase us with your big ol', wooden phallic symbol, Buffy," Rory snapped, thinking that her shoes were definitely going to need a polishing now. Too bad she couldn't make Buffy do it – with her tongue. "Or in your case, watch you roll pathetically after us." She managed to lift her foot before Buffy could roll over it again. "And now that K Slayer is here, I'm liking where I'm at even more. So as the new owner of my dad's donut shop, let me just say: Sayonara, Slayers, and don't let the door hit your loser asses on the way out," she bade with an insolent wave of her hand that would've done Queen C proud.

Rory's face suddenly twisted up as Buffy's chair scored a direct hit into her shin.

"Ror'," Buffy said pleasantly. "Tell the truth. Did you kill all the humans in this shop? Where's the real owner?"

"I told you," Rory ground out. Then a calculative look entered her face. Fine, if the B Slayer wants to play it this way. Let's see what she thinks of her former bestest friend owning her precious donuts.

"All right," the vampire gave, enjoying how the Slayers now looked at her warily. "I'll tell you." Rory grinned evilly. "The real owner is Willow."

"You," Giles said quietly, and with a little disappointment. "You didn't get my custard filling?"

"Willow owns the shop," Buffy said flatly. She had actually been saying that to herself during the entire walk back to the school.

"De Wicked now sells donuts," Kendra supplied, shrugging. Her Watcher looked at her, flabbergasted. Vampires on the Hellmouth were very strange, the Jamaican Slayer concluded privately to herself. She also found it strange that she had actually let the ones in the shop continue unliving. The entire situation was just so unnatural.

"That bites, it's the only place open 24 hours, unless you count the mini-mart," Larry commented. Amy just yawned.

"Yeah, we know you only come to these meetings for the donuts," Larry teased. Angel then came through the doors, his long black trench billowing.

"Angel," Buffy acknowledged, wheeling around so that she could see the vampire. "Anything?" Angel, unfortunately, looked a bit sheepish.

"Still don't know where he is," he admitted. "But word is, he's definitely here." A pall fell over the group.

"Well!" Buffy said cheerfully, interrupting the somber mood. "Looks like we're going to yellow alert." She thought for a moment. "I'll bake cupcakes for our next meeting," she added.

"Custard, Kitten?" Willow murmured, already delicately slicing the custard filled donut carefully. She had Kitten cuddled between her legs, her girl's back against her front. She tried not to get any crumbs on the bed as she picked up the donut piece.

"Just a bite," Kitten acknowledged softly. Obligingly, she parted her lips for the treat.

"Mmm," Tara said, chewing. She rested against Willow as the vampire's one, clothed arm rubbed against her tummy comfortingly. Having recently gotten out of a bath, Tara wore nothing; unless a fully dressed vampire, wrapped around her, counted for wearing something. Although she had wanted to make love, as Willow had so sweetly suggested, hormonal changes and the discomforts that came with them left Tara weary and not feeling very sexy. And she had a headache too. Willow, displaying none of her usual horniness, was being thoughtfully, and surprisingly, attentive. If she wasn't about to enter her menstrual cycle, Tara was almost inclined to think that Willow's mindful attentions were actually genuine, and lacking her vampire's usual guile.

"Tea now, Kitten?" she heard the vampire ask softly, as she reached for the cup.

"Please," Tara breathed. Today, Willow's behavior had been not only non Master-like, but not even as self-assuredly solicitous as on their 'dates'. Tara couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it seemed Willow had been out of sorts practically all day. Why, she could not guess, but whatever the cause, it had made her vampire just this side of...discombobulated.

"You're ready to flow," Willow suddenly remarked. Tara's eyes fluttered open, having shut after drinking the tea.

"Don't worry, I can go get it," Willow assured, to Tara's surprise. "Pads, under the sink still, right?" the vampire further queried, having noticed that her witch's choice of 'protection' had not included tampons. When Kitten didn't answer, Willow tried again. "Kitten?"

"You'd really do that?" Tara asked almost skeptically. "You'd let me wear something a-and maybe, just let me go to sleep?"

"Sure, why not?" Willow answered with a nonchalance she didn't feel. Practically every undead cell in her was screaming, eat eat eat, Kitten!

"It's so unlike you," Tara murmured. She rubbed her forehead. Her head hurt, and so did her tummy. And her back. She wasn't in the mood for Willow's more subtle seductions.

"I can be nice," Willow huffed. She was actually trying here; doing 'nice' really just to do...'nice'. Which, yes, Kitten was right, was kinda unlike the vampire. And because such 'giving just to give' was unfamiliar territory, and not deliberately planned, it was...weird. Maybe even a little hard. Kitten didn't have to be so cranky about it.

"No, you're not nice, you're a fiend, you'll want to eat," Tara countered. The frail human in her wanted to accept the vampire's rare offer of generosity, get a pad, and promptly go to bed. Maybe drink some chocolate, then go to bed. But the woman in Tara had not survived these few weeks with her vampire and not come to understand what such a generous concession might do to Willow's demon.

For one thing, Willow might just go out while Tara slept and stake more holes in Harm's poor minions or something.

"Willow, go ahead," she sighed, tugging slightly on her vampire's arm around her waist. Willow scooted from beneath her and laid Tara gently back upon the pillows.

"Oh! Oh!!" Willow exclaimed. "Oh! Are you sure, Kitten? I don't have to, really, I'm fine. I'm fine fine, mcfiney fine. I don't need to, really, I – "

"Willow, before I make a mess, go on," Tara nearly snapped. The blonde witch settled back, and closed her eyes. Then she opened them again.

Really purring. That deep, beautiful, engine sound Tara hadn't heard since Willow tried to entice her with it, during that full moon night in the garden. It vibrated up her stomach and practically reverberated through her body. Tara didn't know how long Willow had been between her legs; an hour, two hours...three. She had climaxed too many times to count, from her vampire's working, wet attentions, and the contractions would sort of – well, it was painful too, and then her womb would give up more for Willow to swallow. At one point, Tara just dozed off, exhausted, in a haze of pleasure and aching pain. When she woke again, Willow was purring.

"RRRM RRM, RRRM RRM..." Came the rumbly, purry sound, as Tara glanced sleepily down, and saw soft, red locks spread on her belly. It was comforting, the vibrations. She reached down and ran her fingers through Willow's bright hair.

Such a powerful thing, Willow was. Killer. Demon. Destroyer. Now purring like the big, deadly predator she was.

Mr. Trick heard the knock at his hotel bungalow door. He automatically adjusted his cuffs, adjusted his tie, and checked the fastening of his suit jacket. He then jaunted to the door and opened it.

"Well now, sweet lovin', what brings you to my bungalow door?" he said smoothly, checking out the female vamp before him. His boys were right, this one was a looker.

"Blood or money," the female gave bluntly, but with a pouty expression that belied the matter of fact tone of her demand. "If you'd like the quality time," she then added with a slight curve of her full lips.

Mr. Trick glanced back into his room. On the floor slumped the unconscious body of the pizza delivery boy.

"I was saving him for later," Mr. Trick informed, as he led the female inside. "But you can certainly snack on him too, sweetness."

"That'll be cool," the female vamp agreed. "Hunting's been hard in this town," She added, pouting again. "The Slayer makes it hard. I may just leave."

"Is that so?" Mr. Trick said. Suddenly the walls shook, as a crash was heard next door.

"Just my Master, sweets, nothing to concern yourself with," Mr. Trick soothed. "What's this about the Slayer, doll?"

"Is he, is he gonna kill the Slayer?" the female asked instead. "Cuz if he does, I may just stay in this town."

"He just might," Mr. Trick replied. He decided to pour out some wine, courtesy of the room's bar. This girl might be worth some party time. "Although myself, I like to look at the big picture. This town's got alot of potential. High disappearance rate, yet no one seems to care – neither the police, nor the Mayor's office. Nice place for a modern vampire such as myself to set up shop."

"A successful shop, I bet," the female vamp complimented, as she accepted the wine glass from Mr. Trick.

"Sweet lips, what Mr. Trick touches, turns to gold," he replied, clinking glasses with the female. "Now tell me what you know about this town."

Next door to Mr. Trick's, Kakistos sent a cloved hand into a table, demolishing it. Next door to Kakistos, his minions paused in their card game, one of them shrugging. An hour later, a well fed female minion quickly left Mr. Trick's bungalow door and hurried away. She walked a block over and got into a car that drove her to Third and Wilkins.

Across town, in Sunnydale High's school lab, two Slayers were carefully dipping darts in a thick, smelly concoction. The blonde Slayer reached down and drew up the next cache of weapons waiting to be treated, and showed them to her sister Slayer. She held arrows. The dark eyed Slayer nodded solemnly.

In the poorer side of Sunnydale downtown, Oz was finishing his set with his band, Dingoes Ate My Baby. The basement show was going really well; one round faced girl in the audience had been catching his eye. She looked sweet. She had an energy that wasn't like Wills', but it was appealing, all the same. He gave her a little smile. She smiled back, happy. He liked it. It felt good. Then the girl got shoved aside. Oz's smile disappeared. He smelled wolf and he felt it too. A slender, fierce girl now stood where the round faced girl had been. This one had spoken to him before. Veruca.

Veruca stared into Oz's wary eyes; she wanted to make sure the guitarist understood that he was hers. She'd been tracking him around town for a while now. Her rogue pack was establishing territory in Sunnydale Forest and she had him marked to join. She wanted him to be the killer she was, a free ranging hunter just like the rest of her pack. Oz was resistant, but pups like him always were, in the beginning.

Oz, feeling dark, unfamiliar emotions rising within himself, turned abruptly away. He busied himself with the stage equipment.

Veruca was so focused on Oz that she did not sense the vampire behind her until she felt the hard poke at her shoulder.

"What," she snarled, turning quickly and into a defensive stance. Before her stood a full figured, bottled blonde, her equal in height, wearing a leather car coat. The blonde vampire casually blew a big pink bubble, then snapped it. She just stared at Veruca.

"You're not the one stalking me," she said, more to herself. The scent was all wrong. All week she had been aware of a vampire watching her, trailing her, even entering her motel room and leaving evidence of its presence. Disturbing her stuff. Leaving coy, threatening messages. Whoever her stalker was, it was getting on her nerves, making her want to fight.

"Nope," the blonde vampire casually replied. "She's busy eating her Pet out." The vampire reached over, then stuffed a folded piece of paper down the front of Veruca's dress. Veruca lashed out quickly, startling the people around them. The blonde vampire easily stepped back and out of the way, her hands up.

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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