Willow awoke with a start. She checked her watch, which read 1:30PM. And she heard what had
awakened her. The bunker door was opening. She got out of bed, went over to the door of the
bedroom, and peered out. Keith was bringing in grocery bags and putting them in the kitchen.

<Now's a perfect time to sneak out.> she thought. She carefully timed it, so that Keith had just
entered the kitchen as she quietly ran for the bunker door. She slipped out, then tripped over the
packages just outside the door. She quickly got her balance back, but Keith had heard, and was at
the door in a shot. He grabbed Willow's arms and pulled her back inside.

"Nice try, Willow, but I'm afraid I can't let you go." He propelled her into the armchair. "Now, either
you stay put here, or I knock you out. Which is it going to be?"

"I'll stay here." The LAST thing Willow wanted was to be unconscious while Keith the Rat was here.

Keith slipped out again and brought in yet more packages. This time, they had the emblem of the one
department store in Sunnydale, 'Eaton's'. He deposited them at Willow's feet, then informed her to
feel free to look through them. He then slipped out yet again.

He kept going in and out, bringing boxes and bags of stuff for several minutes, while Willow went
through the bags of clothes with dismay. The clothes were MINISCULE and would barely cover
her. They were much more Buffy's style, although even she wouldn't wear this stuff. Willow was
blushing bright red by the time she got to the underwear. It was flimsy and sheer and not at all what
she was going to wear.

Keith had finally gotten everything inside and had closed the door.

"No way," Willow told him. "There is no way in hell that I'm going to wear those clothes."

"You don't have a choice, Willow. Angel said you wear them, then you wear them. Either you change
into them yourself, or I'll do it for you."

Willow paled. "You wouldn't."

"I would. Just push me far enough." Keith looked at Willow, a set expression on his face. "I'd do
anything for Mist. Now, go get changed."

Willow shook her head. "No way," she repeated. "I'm going to fight you every step of the way."

"Fine then." Keith stepped up to her and said, "I really didn't want to do this, but you aren't giving me
any other alternative." He then something from his pocket and pricked her with it before she knew
what had happened. Within a few seconds she began to feel woozy and she realized that he had
drugged her, and consciousness slipped away.

Willow groaned as she slowly came back to consciousness. She felt terrible. Her mouth was like a
desert, every muscle in her body ached, and her eyes felt like they were glued shut. She tried to
wake up, but wasn't having an easy time.

"Here," she vaguely heard someone say. She was carefully lifted into a sitting position, and a glass
was pressed to her lips. She greedily drank the contents of the glass.

"Slowly," the voice cautioned. "You don't want to overdo it." Willow slowed a little, but still drank
the entire glass. She felt remarkably better. Her mouth felt normal, and her muscles didn't ache nearly
as much anymore. She opened her eyes without too much difficulty, and saw Keith holding her in his
arms. She tried to scramble away, but wasn't doing a very good job, as she was still weak from
whatever he had used to drug her.

Keith sighed and released her. He went over to the dresser, and picked up a different glass as he
placed the other back on it. He then handed the glass to Willow.

"This should help relieve the last of the discomfort from the drug," he informed her. Willow took the
glass, sniffed the contents, then finally decided that it probably wouldn't hurt her, and drank the
contents. She was surprised when she felt strength coming into her limbs almost instantly. Keith took
the glass from her, replaced it on the dresser, and motioned her to sit up again.

That was when she noticed her clothing situation. <What the HECK!!!> She didn't know why she
hadn't noticed her immodest attire before, although she had been feeling so rotten that it wasn't all
that surprising. But she still chastised herself for not paying enough attention to the world around her.

She was wearing a very short black skirt and a purple top that wasn't modest by any means. She
was also wearing pantyhose, which made her feel somewhat better. But still, a fiery red blush crept
over the skin of her face and neck.

But then she remember that Keith had done this to her, and looked up at him in anger. Before she
could say anything, he motioned her to be quiet.

"Willow, the way I see it, you have two choices. You can either let me finish putting you together
under your own power, or I can drug you again. And I very much doubt that it will wear off before
Angel arrives."

Willow shivered at the thought of being unconscious with Angel. She didn't trust him. She refused to
let that happen. But she didn't want Keith to do anything to her. So, she tried to figure out a different
way.

"What do you still need to do?"

"Just your makeup and hair."

"I can do that myself," Willow said with finality. She got up, sat at the makeup table, and grabbed the
brush. Keith took it from her hands.

"Sorry, Willow, but I have to do it. Now, will you let me, or do I have to drug you again?"

Willow shut her eyes, then finally nodded her head almost imperceptibly. Keith noticed though, and
started brushing out her hair. He soon had it pulled away from her face, and started to apply the
makeup.

"What did you do while I was out?" Willow asked, quite afraid of his answer.

"Gave you a bath," Willow blushed bright red, "and changed you." Keith looked down at her in
compassion. "It would have been much easier if you'd done it yourself. Keep that in mind next time."

"Next time?"

"Come on, Willow, you know that Angel isn't going to let you go any time soon. And I have no doubt
he'll ask me to do this again."

Willow shut her eyes in mortification.

"Did you know that you're an Iztanzey?"

"A what?" Willow's eyes snapped open at this question. She'd vaguely heard of these 'Iztanzeys'.
Some kind of demon hunters, or something.

"I'll take that as a no. They're demon keepers. They tame demons, make them nice." Keith smirked a
little. "I'm surprised you didn't know, what with you being with the Slayer." Keith looked down at
her, and smiled. "Look, I want Angel back to the way he was, and I think you can do that."

"But even if I am one of these 'Iztanzeys', I don't know what to do."

"You do. It's instinctive." Willow started to protest, but she realized that he was right. She had been
taming Angel's demon practically since she'd arrived here, and she'd never even realized it. But now
that she knew, she'd step up her efforts to make Angel good again.

"You do realize that I have to tell Angel?" Willow glared at Keith, but she had already known this,
and she had started to accept that he was as much a prisoner as she. He was much too pathetic to be
otherwise.

"I'd better go. Angel will be here very soon. I'll tell him next time I see him." Keith hurried from the
room, and left the bunker, leaving Willow to her thoughts.

Now that she really thought about it, there was a lot she could do to help Angel. Although she really
wished she wasn't in these trashy clothes. She decided to try to look up 'banthaly'. What she
discovered astonished her. She found it in an English/Reataly (she'd never heard of the language)
dictionary. And it was the name used for a member of a harem, specifically vampiric harems. But
she'd be damned if she let Angel use her.

Willow then spent her time setting up her new computer.

The sun had set just a few minutes before. Buffy was already on the prowl for Michelle, Angel, or
any kind of vamp she could take her aggression out on. Even though she was sore from the beating
she had taken yesterday, she was determined that this would end tonight.

At a sound from behind her, Buffy snapped around. Behind her, leaning against a wall, holding the
ever-present staff, was Cat-Woman.

"Hello, Buffy. Ready for another lesson?" she asked with a wide smirk.

"I think it's time you took some of your own medicine." Buffy launched into a spin kick, knocking
Michelle off her feet. She then grasped the flask from inside her jacket, and sprayed Michelle with it.

As the liquid burned her, she screamed with rage. <The Ritual. The little BITCH found the Ritual!>
She kicked Buffy with even greater violence, not even trying to hold back any long. She wouldn't go
back. She'd never go back.

"Elements of earth, air, fire and water. Demons of flesh. Demons of spirit. Demons of soul." Buffy
chanted the first refrain as best she could, as she continued to fight Michelle. It was pretty short, and
thankfully in English. She'd spent the last hour before sunset memorizing it, because if she botched it,
Michelle would be eternally free. And it didn't help that Buffy was having a hard time breathing.

Michelle managed to get a solid kick into Buffy's abdomen, knocking what little breath she had out of
her. However, she caught Michelle's foot, knocked her off her feet, and continued with the next
section of the chant.

"Return what you have taken. Give back what you have stolen. Take back the suffering you have
given. Steal back the misery you have inflicted." Michelle screamed again, and launched herself at
Buffy with absolute savagery. There was only one section left, and if recited properly, it would send
the dancer straight back into the bowels of hell.

Buffy grabbed a stake, and drove it into Cat-Woman's arm. She cursed and stumbled back, allowing
Buffy the time to finish the chant.

"For those who suffered, I send you back. For those you hurt, I send you back. For those like me, I
send you back. Go quickly, speedily, and without delay!" Buffy screamed the last line, as a swirling
vortex came and swooped a screaming aura away from Michelle. Michelle shook her head, took one
look at Buffy, and ran away full throttle.

Too tired to give chase, Buffy simply collapsed against the wall. Another disaster averted. Thankfully,
she had still been weak. Even one more night and she might not have been able to send her back.
Giles had given her a big lecture on how elementals got stronger the longer they were on Earth. She
hoped to hell she never ran into another elemental. Buffy limped back to the library, cursing herself
for not interrogating Cat-Woman as to Willow's whereabouts.

Angel whistled as he headed down the underground passageway leading to the bunker. If Keith had
followed his instructions, of which Angel had no doubts, Willow was going to look... Angel let the
thought trail off, deciding it was better to see the real thing than imagine. However, she had looked
very hot on Halloween, and it would be a joy to see her so attired again.

He reached the bunker door, and opened it with a resounding 'CREAK'. <Hmmm,> he thought. <I
guess I should have Keith oil the door a bit.> He then closed the door and turned to look at Willow.

She was so absorbed in her computer that she hadn't even noticed him coming in. It was now just
about assembled, and she finished putting some wires together. Angel admired her, wondering how
such a lovely creature could have hidden in that drab thing he normally associated with Willow. He
shook his head, then went over and pulled Willow against him.

Willow almost jumped when she felt the arms around her. She put a hand against her now quickly
beating heart, as if to calm it down. "Hello, Willow," Angel all but purred into her ear. "Do you like
your new wardrobe?"

Willow hissed at him, and managed to extricate herself from his arms. She then crossed her arms
over her chest, and glared at him, still not saying a word. Angel chuckled.

"I'll take that for a no. But Willow, I must say, you look good enough to eat." Angel snapped his
teeth together, an absolutely wicked grin on his face. He slowly circled around Willow, taking her in
from all sides. "Oh, this is going to be so fun, seeing you like this."

Willow gave Angel a murderous glare, clearly indicating her feelings on the matter.

"The hair-style's all wrong, though. I don't know what Keith was thinking." Angel sat down in the
chair, pulling Willow down into his lap yet again. It was becoming a very familiar position for Willow.

Angel carefully took apart the elaborate braid, then tangled his fingers into her hair, moving it away
from her neck as he did so. Willow instinctively cocked her head to one side, offering her throat to
him as he played with her hair.

Angel grinned at the show of submission. It looked like Willow would soon become a perfect
'banthaly', offering her blood, her body, and anything else to him. He sank his teeth into Willow's
delicate throat, savoring the taste of her blood.

Almost immediately, he noticed something was different about it. An undertaste, something... exotic,
something... dangerous, something... Angel jerked his head back, and shoved Willow away from him
and onto the floor as he realized just what it was he was tasting.

"You're an Iztanzey," he growled at her, mentally kicking himself for not noticing it before. Willow
just stayed sprawled on the floor, making no effort to rise. "You..." Angel was at a loss for words, as
he stared down at the woman he now realized would be his destruction.

<Kill her now, while you still can.> He hauled Willow up, and put his hands around her throat,
applying pressure. Or, at least, he tried to. But he couldn't do it, he was already too far gone. He
couldn't kill her.

Willow stood stock still, not moving a muscle, as a sense of deja vu swept through her. This was just
like the time in the school, except for the fact that there wasn't the awful pressure, and the lack of air.
She looked up at Angel with confusion in her eyes.

Angel gave a cry of rage, released her throat and grabbed one of her hands. He quickly pulled her
into the bedroom, and taking a belt from his closet, firmly tied her wrists behind her back. He then
pushed her onto the bed.

Willow quickly rolled over, shifting uncomfortably on her bound wrists. There was no way she was
going to turn her back to Angel when he was in this mood. He hadn't stopped growling yet, and there
was a light in his eyes that made Willow very afraid. However, she somehow knew that he wasn't
going to hurt her. Even though it was plain that he wanted to, he couldn't.

Angel paced back and forth, every movement conveying contained violence. He then turned to look
at Willow, and a very nasty light appeared in his eyes.

"So, you think you're going to tame me? Break the demon? Is that it?" Willow continued to look at
Angel steadily, refusing to let him see her fear. She knew he wouldn't hurt her physically, but there
were other ways to hurt a person. And Angel probably could write the book on them.

Angel clenched his hands, then abruptly grabbed the two sides of her shirt, and ripped the front
away. Willow's eyes widened, then she controlled the reaction. She was now lying on the bed in a
lacy bra and short skirt, with her hands bound behind her back, and the remnants of the shirt hanging
off her shoulders. Not a good position to be in. Angel tore a long section of her shirt, then put it in her
mouth. He knotted it firmly at the back, effectively gagging her.

"You don't want to talk? Fine with me. Besides, I have someplace to be. And a librarian to tear to
pieces." Willow started to protest, but all that came from behind the gag was a few muffled sounds.

Angel laughed harshly, then turned and left, leaving Willow on the bed.

Willow closed her eyes, and feared for Giles' life. Although Angel couldn't hurt her, there was no
clause yet to prevent him from hurting other people.

Willow took a deep breath as best she could, then started to wiggle around until she managed to get
her hands around her feet, bringing her bonds to the front. She'd always been very limber, and it
helped that she was double jointed. It had proved very useful, both now and the time that the
neighbourhood boys had tied her to a fencepost.

She awkwardly got off the bed, and went into Angel's closet to grab a shirt. There were only a few
articles of Angel's clothing in there, and she knew better than to wear them. She had on that fateful
second day, and he had practically torn the clothes off of her. She had no desire to rile him now,
when he was already in such a temper. So, she took one of her new, rather thin shirts to cover her
bare shoulders. She walked into the living room, seeing if anything Keith had brought could help her
out of this bind. She smiled at her own double entendre. She then spotted a book on a table that she
hadn't seen before. The cover was blank, but when she opened it up, it said 'Guidebook for
Iztanzeys'. <Perfect.> Willow couldn't have asked for anything better.

She then headed for the kitchen, and grabbed a knife that Keith had returned to the drawer. After
sawing through the leather, taking care not to cut herself, she disposed of the belt and gag, and put
her shirt on properly.

Returning to the living room, she curled up in the armchair with the book, determined to learn
everything there was to know before Angel returned and confiscated it.
 
 

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