Part 21

When her parents finally contacted her, Willow convinced them that she was okay. That she didn't need them to come home, that she didn't need another nanny. She was fifteen, she would take care of herself.

It wasn't as if they would have stayed home anyway. If they hadn't believed her she probably would have been forced to go live with her aunt-or some other relative that didn't want her. Her parents were too involved with their work to take time out for her, an unwanted child. At one time she had thought that if she could only be "good enough" then they would love her, want her. She done the best she could in everything, and still she'd had no reaction from them. Now, she pleased herself. She had not cared for anyone except Angel and Xander. As long as she received good grades in school and didn't cause any trouble, no one paid her any attention. Well, no one had except Angel and Xander - and now Angel had left to go chasing off after some myth of a Slayer. She was left alone to face her empty house, the memories. He'd promised not to leave. He left.

Angel left that morning for Los Angeles. He'd contacted the Master there who'd had some information for him. Some of his fledglings had gone missing, but what had made him so eager to talk to Angel was that someone had killed a favored new childe of his.

A young girl, who had looked to have no more strength than normal, had thrown the childe to the ground and staked him. The presumed Slayer had obviously known what a vampire was, and was accompanied by a grey-bearded man who was thought to be her Watcher.

Lothos, the L.A. Master, had also told Angel of the trap set for the girl at her high school. More than twenty of her schoolmates had been turned. They were going to kill her at the Senior Dance, to which some idiot had invited everyone, even those students who were dead. If Angel wanted the Slayer's help, he needed to get there quickly. To do that he had hired a driver and a limo, the windows darkened until opaque, to take him.

He waited in the darkness, alone in his thoughts, to reach his destination. He felt cold, and bereft. A victim of a cruel choice. He had given everything that he could to Willow, without her even asking. She had claimed him - his friendship, his teaching, his love. Every possession, every kinship, every scruple could be thrown away for her. But the sum of his choices had brought him here - leaving her.

But Willow would be gone without him, if this choice had not been made. And with her gone the warmth of the sun would have gone.  No one could ever have warmed him again, man or woman, kinsman or friend. The essential thing would have left his life, and beyond that...was nothing.

He shivered convulsively, as if a cold wind had blown over him. He bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Honor demanded. Honor that he had back again demanded that he keep her safe - even if it meant breaking his word and leaving her.

Part 22

Willow lay awake in bed, snuggled down into her blankets.  She was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion, but it was more of the mind than of her body and she couldn't sleep. The dark of her room seemed to press against her, making it hard for her to breathe.  Someone seemed to be screaming inside of her head, and unable to bear it any longer, she rose and thrrw the covers back. Putting a loose robe on over her nightgown, she hurried to escape her house.

She walked rapidly through the darkened streets, her head down and her hair framing her face, eyes unseeing. Willow hoped that some exercise and fresh air would clear her head of the reflections that haunted her.

It was the sounds of a struggle that finally brought her to her senses. Willow was in the park and one of Angel's vampires was feeding from a woman dressed in jogging clothes. The vampire drank messily and the unfortunate woman was drained of blood in minutes.  She had no time to stop him.

Slowly she approached the lethargic vampire, who was still caught up in the ecstasy that blood seemed to bring. She regarded him in silence a long time, head cocked slightly to one side, with a detached curiosity. Here was a vampire who dared to go against Angel's orders. (Surely Angel left someone in charge while he is gone? Well, if he did, apparently they're not doing to good of a job.)

A slight frown crossed her face. She could not allow this to continue. (Granted, I haven't ever actually played the role of Mistress to the vampires. But with Angel gone, someone has to do it. May as well be me.)

Slowly, calmly, as if she had no concerns, Willow centered herself. Reaching out a hand, she touched the vampire softly, sending her power coursing through his body. He was jerked down to his knees, body swaying with pain.

"Get up," she ordered harshly. She was in no mood to be gentle. He would learn to do as she wished or face the
consequences. If he lived long enough.

"What is your name?"

"Stephen, Lady." He replied, breathing unnecessarily as he climbed painfully to his feet.

"Come with me."

They walked to the lair, Willow following behind, watching for any escape attempts on his part. But there were none, Stephen walked docilely ahead of her.

When they reached the warehouse Willow walked inside, the vampire now following silently at her heals. Moonlight filtered dimly through the grimy skylights. That, and a few lanterns scattered throughout the vast space, gave her just enough light to see.

It had changed since she had last been here. There were now chairs and couches sparsely spread throughout, and the crates that she had stood upon were gone. In their place stood a dais, two empty chairs of equal size positioned next to each other on it. She wondered at their significance. One was surely Angel's, but who was the other for? Her? It didn't matter right now, Willow decided, she had other things to attend to.

While she hadn't been paying attention, the other vampires present in the warehouse had cautiously surrounded her. They knew who she was, and were curious of her presence. The Lady had not returned after killing those who had offended her. Why was she here now?

Willow was nervous but determined to get the vampires under control. There was too much killing in Sunnydale, vampires did not need to be added to the list of predators. She swallowed and forced herself to slowly lean back, casually, against a column supporting the ceiling.

"Who is in charge here?" she asked quietly.

When no one stepped forward, she continued, waving her hand to indicate Stephen. "This vampire is in need of punishment. He has broken one of the Master's rules. He killed."

There was startled laughter at her statement. She studied them, eyes flickering slowly over them, inquisitively, as if she might be reaching deep into something not human and not familiar to her. As if searching for something she could understand. The laughter died away.

"So you no longer follow your Master's orders, now that he is away?" Willow said, ever so quietly, into the silence. "Apparently not, if his example is what I am to go by."

They stood motionless under her continued scrutiny, the expressions on their faces unchanging veils, hiding their thoughts from her. Her voice dropped a register, unconsciously, and her eyes held a troubled serenity as she spoke. "If you do not follow the Master anymore then you will follow me! His orders still stand. The penalty for disobeying is death."

Their faces held disbelief, and Willow saw that it was not enough to decree his death - she had to kill him. As painfully as possible; an example. Resolving herself to it, her face became a determined mask. The vampires saw Stephen's death written in her determination, and they spread away from him who faced death, though they did not dare to run.

Willow touched him gently again. Though he tried to back away, she held him in place with her eyes. Fire flowed in his veins at her touch, and he screamed. It built to a seemingly endless roar as the sound echoed and reechoed against the walls. There was a long night's falling into emptiness as Stephen turned to ash.

"Any questions?"

Part 23

Dusk lowered down and stars spread across the sky like a handfull of diamonds thown against blue velvet. Angel dismissed his driver once he arrived at the L.A. Master's headquarters. At the entrance he was intercepted by a minion, who led him down a corridor. Long and narrow, candles lit along it's length, the hallway led deeper into the building. It was close and still, and absolutely quiet; there was no movement of air.

Ghost-silent, they glided along the downward-sloping hall, heading towards Angel's audience with the Master. Deep-recessed niches held doors every fifteen feet or so, and for a while all they passed were the locked doors, in silence and dust.

"Are we almost there?" Angel asked.

The minion looked at him, lifted an eyebrow, and continued forward, not answering. The downward tilt of the corridor grew stronger, ending in a staircase. They took the treads two at a time. The bottom opened into a greater chamber.

From the outside the building looked to be falling apart, but the inside...the inside was magnificent. The concrete of the building's substance was sheathed everywhere with stone, the polished granite and marble now immaculately clean. The air was cool, but the faint indefinable odor of age hung in it.

It had the look of an opera house, except for the stage. It was a white marble dais raised two steps above the floor. Stage-lights centered on a white marble coffin which rested in the center, opened wide, showing blood-red velvet lining. It drew Angel's eyes, and almost caused him to laugh out loud. (Who sleeps in a coffin _these days_?!)

His gaiety ended quickly though as he continued to look around. Angel could now see that the building was more than two stories high, and the overlooking balconies that held the private boxes were filled with on-looking vampires.

Someone rose from a divan in the shadows and crossed the carpeting to approach Angel. He wore a long, waist-length silk coat with silver buttons, tall boots polished to a high gloss, a loose white shirt with ruffles, and an elaborate red neckcloth, pinned with a ruby, completed the ensemble.

"Greetings, Angelus." His face was lined with age, but vampires didn't age. That was kind of the whole point, wasn't it? The vampire had been turned for something other than his looks, and Angel wondered why.

"Greetings, Lothos. You said you had some information about where the Slayer is? I am here for it."

"I know where she is, but I was wondering...why do _you_ want to know?"

"I'm going to kill her," stated Angel without inflection.

"That's a problem. You see, _I_ wish to kill her. As far as I can see, you just want another Slayer under your belt. She owes me. She destroyed something that was _mine_, and I WILL NOT HAVE IT!" His voice thundered though the house, echoing in the room until the air was so thick with echoes that it was like breathing in his words. When they died he continued, "Leave here. I cannot help you."

Angel did not move. "Why is that?" he asked, as easily as if he were commenting on the weather.

Half turned away, Lothos froze, paused and swung back. The force of his stare, antagonistic and unforthcoming, would have cowed any other man. He did not reply.

"Why will you not help me?" repeated Angel.

For an instant, the other Master looked taken aback that anyone would question his authority, but only for an instant. Then a sudden, intense energy radiated from him. He was powerful, and frightening. His jaw tightened, his lips thinned, he took in an unnecessary breath.

The storm was about to hit. The charge of emotion washed over them like fire. They burned with it, fear and exhilaration together.

"Leave here. I have refused." Lothos said again, with astonishing smoothness. "I have no wish to see you again."

Angel stood still. He could not accept the refusal. He had no other leads to the Slayer. The L.A. Master was his only hope that he could find the girl in time; before his grandsire rose.

Angel gave Lothos a gracious bow and a ghostly smile. A smile that appeared and vanished on his lips so quickly that it was almost as though it had never been.

"I cannot." he said simply.

"As you wish." Lothos swept the room with a comprehensive gaze, and an unspoken command seemed to pass from him to the minions occupying the room. They started forward, towards Angel.  Too many. How he hated running! Back up the stairs he went, down the hall, and out the door.

Outside he quickly glanced around. No pursuers yet. Angel sprinted around the side of the building looking for a way up.  Finding a fire escape, he went up.

Swiftly, almost running, he trotted along the edge of the building until he came to the corner where he crouched motionless and looked down below.

Moonlight and knife-edge shadows flattened the cityscape into a pattern treacherous to the eye. The streets were no better. He waited with a hunter's patience, his attention traveling steadily from the farthest to the nearest point in smooth arcs, searching.

He saw the figures a few minutes later, black-clad, stealing noiselessly from one puddle of deep shadow to darker ones. The shadowy figures vanished, reappeared, flitting. They were on his trail.

Angel edged back, so that he would not be seen as he stood up. He moved with blurred speed, focusing himself. Reaching the edge, he leaped, seeming to hang above the street for an eternity.  The leap was turned into a loose tumble as he landed on the lower house.

Carefully, steadily, he paced to the other side, silent. Then Angel slid down the roof, caught an ornament, and landed cat-footed on the high courtyard wall below. He dropped to the ground, and slowly walked away.

Part 24

(Any questions?) The words rang through her mind again and again. Of course there hadn't been any. As of one, the vampires had all knelt and vowed to serve and protect her until death. Some may even intend to keep them, but the promises - all of them - had been made in fear. And the fear wouldn't last. (Any questions?)  How was she supposed to rule vampires without fear? To make them want to obey her - of their own free will, out of loyalty.

The grief she had thought numbed suddenly clutched at her throat. (Angel should be here! Angel could help me. There wouldn't even be a problem if he was still here!) She turned from the dark entrance of the warehouse and hurried off, up one street and down another, not paying attention to where she was going. Just wanting to get away.  She blinked her eyes furiously, refusing to let the tears flow. When she had them under control, she slowed her step and looked around. Nothing looked familiar, so Willow just picked a direction and continued walking. It wasn't like she was in a hurry to get home - to either of them.

Over two weeks had passed since the day Angel had left. In two weeks there had been no word or messages from him. Not knowing what his life was like, not knowing what he was going through was awful. She didn't have any real reasons to worry, Angel wouldn't let any harm come to himself, and he would have told her if there had been any real reason for concern, but that didn't stop her - she worried anyway. And besides the worry, she missed him. Willow took a steadying breath and sighed it slowly out.  (First things first: get home...then worry about everything else.)

The first lights of dawn were breaking the horizon when she finally walked up to her porch. She felt like she'd walked across half the town. Sitting down on the steps, she tried to figure out what she was going to do next.

Xander was concerned. Lately Willow seemed very distant. He knew she missed Angel - so did he - but she was so silent sometimes.  He knew something else was bothering her.

Xander loved Willow fiercely, as only a brother who loves his sister can. It's one of the oldest bonds between a man and a woman, and one of the most important. She had saved his life, had taken him into her heart, her family, and had given him the only security, the only haven, he had ever known. He was devoted to her. Willow gave love and acceptance freely, and received the same in return.

Restless, Xander decided to see if she needed company. She was in her parent's house by herself, and being alone wasn't good for her - or him.

When he was outside he saw her and crossed the street.  Reaching her, Xander questioned softly, "Willow?"

She glanced at him, then turned her head and continued staring out over the yard. The concern in his voice had brought the choked feeling back to her throat, and a moment later she felt the rush of tears, blurring her sight. She buried her face in her hands to cover the tears, to hide them. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that action could stop them.

When she spoke her voice was low. "All I ever wanted to do was live my own life with the people I love. It seems I'm having damn little success at that. They keep leaving - one way or another."

Xander laughed low. "Would you really change anything? We all made the best decisions that we could." He shook his head. "Willow, open your eyes. This horrible mess is your life.  There's no sense in waiting for it to get better. Live it, change it if you can - if you want." He laughed again. His eyes and voice seeming to go afar. "Everyone thinks that courage is about facing death without flinching. Almost anyone can do that. Almost anyone can hold their breath for as long as it takes to die. True courage is facing _life_ without flinching, taking whatever life throws at you, making the best of it, and being happy anyway."

Willow looked up at him as he stood against the sun, haloed by the light behind him. A strange smile crossed her face. "You're being very wise today."

He grinned. "Am I?"

For the first time in days, in weeks, she held an odd, light feeling in her heart. It took a minute to decide what it was, but when she recalled it Willow's smile grew into a grin to match Xander's.

Hope.

When Xander left, Willow headed towards the kitchen to grab some breakfast. Her stomach felt hollow, and it seemed as if she hadn't eaten in ages. After pouring herself some cereal with orange juice on the side, she sat down and preceded to "worry" about her problems.

Xander was completely right...she couldn't just wait around for someone else to fix her problems, she was just going to have to do it herself. She sat back in the chair, and tiny lines wrinkled her brow while she pondered the possibilities before her. The question of what to do ultimately turned into "What can I do?", and all of the solutions that she came up with were ludicrous, so she picked the craziest one, one even Xander wouldn't approve of.

He would probably be horrified by the very notion. Her parents probably wouldn't care a great deal, they never had before, but Xander would probably die of shock. She could understand all of that and could even sympathize a bit, but she just couldn't think of anything else! And this idea might even be crazy enough to work.  (Under the circumstances, what Xander and my parents don't know won't hurt them. Of course, this may not work. But if it does... ) Her thoughts trailed off and she stared into the empty air at something only she could see.

After a few minutes she gave herself a little shake and giggled. Even if she couldn't pull it off, and everyone found out, almost everything would be worth it just to see their faces. Raising her glass of orange juice high, she saluted the empty room.  (Here's to conquering Sunnydale!)

A few minutes later Willow went up the stairs; heading towards her room. She went straight to the bed and stooped down to drag out a large chest. Opening it, she dumped the contents out and spread them over the floor to consider each carefully. It was leather clothes of all types.

She had been curious about why Angel seemed so fond of them so she'd gone to one of his favorite stores and had pretty much bought one of every type of outfit that was in her size. For a whole week, everyday after school she had paraded through her house trying each on when no one else was around, hoping to see what Angel saw in them. But it didn't work, the clothes were just too...binding. And they showed off far too much "stuff" for her to be comfortable with. She had just felt silly, and had finally just stuffed them away out of sight. Well, silly or not, the clothes were now important.

Willow finally decided on something simple. A low-cut black halter with soft red silk ruffles on the wrist and head openings, soft black pants, and knee high boots; low heels. A delicate garnet choker and make-up completed the look; her hair left wild. Looking at herself in the mirror Willow could only think of one word to describe what she saw...wicked. She grinned, the effect was perfect, then yawned. It was almost time to play...but a nap was needed first.

Part 25

It was late afternoon when Willow arrived again at the warehouse, a detailed map of Sunnydale in hand. There were forty-two vampires in her clan and under her control. Hopefully, by the time of all this was over, they would all be hers.

She entered through the unlocked door, the key ready in her hand unneeded, and scowled. There was no sentry, no one was on guard. Willow looked around. (This just won't do.) Everyone was relaxed, giving no care or thought to unwanted visitors such as the police. Some were still sleeping below, but a few were "playing" with a man, rather like a cat toying with a mouse. (Nope. This won't do at all!)

Willow singled out the biggest, meanest-looking vampire she saw. He had probably been a wrestler or a football player in high school. He was over six feet, but he wasn't just tall, he was bulky. He was big and tough and used to it. He was one of the vampires "playing."

Willow stalked up behind him, taking care that her boot-clad feet made almost no noise on the smooth concrete floor.  What little noise she did make was covered by their amused laughter.  She moved as if she was relaxed, flowing, but every muscle was tense with suppressed anger as she tapped him gently on the shoulder.

As the vampire turned to face her, Willow struck him open-palmed against his chest. The blow was light but there was magic behind it, and the vampire sprawled at her feet, unmoving. He just looked up at her, giving Willow a cold, hard stare out of dark gray eyes that looked like flint.

Willow slowly knelt down and straddled his broad chest, clamping her knees tight against his ribs as he tensed. She leaned over him, her hair creating a curtain around them as she stared back and waited until he dropped his eyes and relaxed under her. Then she gave a quick glance to the prisoner.

The man was gagged and terrified but not permanently harmed, which was good. The vampires hadn't broken any rules, and none showed their demon faces. They had only come very close to breaking them, and that was bad. It was time to give them something to do.

"I don't want to play these games anymore. I'm bored." She lightly scratched her nails down his neck and chest. "Wanna play a different game with me?"

He swallowed convulsively, and when he spoke his voice came out hoarse, rough, as if something hurt. "You wish something of me, Lady?"

When the sun rose on Sunday, Willow was just climbing into bed. Finally out of the leather and able to breathe freely again, she sighed. School was out in two weeks, the summer vacation would hopefully give her plenty enough time to bring Sunnydale to it's knees-her parts of it anyway.

Eric, her new second, was supervising her plan. Each night they would be exploring a different section of town, mapping all of the other clans' lairs. Then one by one they would fall.

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