Bloodletting

After the Flesh

Buffy cautiously poked her head through the doorway of the abandoned vineyard. She appraised the room before finally entering. Holding the door open, she whispered, “This place gives me a serious wiggins, Will. I hope you know that,” as the witch passed by her.

The door creaked shut and Willow replied, “See that?” gesturing to a patch of dried blood on the floor. “Me, here, now…not exactly—” She glanced around the room, appearing impatient. “It’s a necklace with a blue stone. Be careful not to step on it or…”

Buffy’s attention fixed on the crusty dark stain. A jumble of rat tracks littered the dusty floor around it. Her stomach tied in knots. Swallowing thickly, she whispered, “Yeah, I know…Xander ’ll come back along with heaps of the other sins we buried in wishes.”

When the witch disappeared behind a row of casks, Buffy turned to search the other side of the room. She carefully avoided the blood stains and spatter as she moved. “He was such a sweet guy. I miss him.” Yeah, I really miss him. Like being flayed. Fucking rapist.

Scraping came from the other side of the room. She considered looking up, but it stopped and a distracted Willow started to mumble, “Yeah, there’s nothing more tedious than a prick with a tiny dick and an ego to compensate. Add that jacket and he wasn’t long for this world.”

A squeal resonated through the dark room, followed by frantic screeching. Buffy bolted upright. A rat? What does she want with a rat? I swear she isn’t getting any saner.

As the ruckus died away, Willow said, “It’s okay,” moving toward the door. “Don’t wig.” She paused just on the other side of the bloodstained floor. “Oh, and nice job by the way.”

Bending down to continue the search, Buffy said, “Huh?”

“Figuring out what that bastard was doing.”

Buffy commented, “Oh, that. Yeah. Well, y’know how it goes. Perspective usually comes with distance,” sounding completely indifferent.

She fixated on one of the filthy windows and muttered, “It wasn’t rocket science. Just scar tissue.” Bastard’s right. Yeah, he got what was coming. But then, I’m not sure anyone deserves that.

Fine silvery strands formed a web that covered the lower right pane. They glistened in the moonlight trickling in through the cloudy glass. In the web’s center was a fat, black spider. Beside the spider another insect struggled to break free of the cocoon she’d made. The spider ignored it. She’d won. Survival of the fittest. Strange, I’m seeing a family resemblance.

The old wooden door creaked in protest when Willow opened it. This has seriously gotta end. Giving her a glance, Buffy asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back in sec,” Willow replied and pulled the door shut.

Buffy shook her head and resumed the search. Go figure, she’d bail and leave me to search this filthy, rat infested hole alone.

When the door rattled again, she looked up. Willow stood just inside the entrance with a wineglass. It glinted in the moonlight. The rat squealed. She held it over the glass. Rivulets of dark fluid trickled over the crystal, pooling at the bottom. Oh, Christ! She stops for a snack? Jesus! And she talks about me.

“Goodbye, Tara.”

The soft, silky sound made Buffy shiver. Her brow furrowed. What the fuck? “Did you say something about Tara?”

Willow whispered, “Tara…” extending her arm to display the limp rodent corpse she was holding “…the witch ratted her.” She tipped the wineglass up to take a sip and cast the rat over her shoulder.

The faint tinkle of breaking glass made Buffy shudder. What the hell was that? The wineglass is still there. It’s still good. There’s no reason for that sound. She wanted to go look, but the truth was right in front of her. Willow’s hair had turned black. Uh. Buffy’s stomach clenched. Well, she always was a stickler for finishing the job.

She rolled her eyes to mask the inner conflict. Part of me wants to think ‘poor Tara.’ What a way to go. But I’m not gonna. She was just plain scary. Sighing, Buffy said, “That’s just wrong on so many levels. I thought you loved Tara.” Stooping to scan the floor under the rotting casks, she grumbled softly to herself, “Keep it up and we’ll wind up in the height of Victorian fashion.”

A few moments later a clatter and a scrape caused her to look up again. Willow chimed, “Got it,” putting the charm around her neck.

Suppressing a cringe, Buffy said, “Good.” Not wasting any time, she headed straight for the door. “Let’s get outta here.”

“Oh, and I loved fucking Tara,” Willow remarked dispassionately as she followed Buffy’s lead. “Love’s not the same as sex. Tara was a lot of fun in bed. She’d literally do anything I asked. She was a useful tool to me too.” As the witch passed her, she made eye contact and whispered, “The only one I ever gave a rat’s ass about was you. Never mind the pun.” Draining the wineglass, she whipped it at the floor, saying, “Mazel tov,” quietly to herself.

Buffy snapped, “Hey! That was—”cutting off when the witch spoke.

“Really nice crystal.” Willow stepped outside. “Gimme a break, okay? I’m mourning.”

As Buffy made a beeline for the car, the crazy witch continued to talk. “Despite the strangeness, part of me is still Jewish. And we like to break shit on special occasions.”

“’Kay…whatever works, Will, but let’s motor,” Buffy called over her shoulder. Yeah, I may be a little naïve, but ‘mourning’ my ass. ‘Mazel tov,’ that’s a happy thing.

Reaching into her pocket for the key, she slid behind the wheel of the car. But I suppose, ‘happy’ is right. I’m happy. At least I think I am.

She placed the key in the ignition and fired up the engine. It rumbled to life, but she was somewhere else entirely. I’m not exactly sure what D’Hoffryn looks for in a girl, but Will putting on that necklace was wigsome. Maybe vamps can’t be vengeance demons? I dunno. We’re pretty much already fucked. What I do know is: add vengeance demon to her resume and she’d make Tara look like Lucille Ball. And when I wished him away, Tara made Xander-tartar without a second thought. No muss, no fuss, nothing fancy…just so much ground—

“So, remind me again, why? This thing’s not exactly subtle.”

The witch broke her train of thought. Buffy stammered, “Huh?” I thought it was funny at the time. But now? Not so much.

“The car,” Willow said with a snicker.

Buffy exclaimed, “Oh! I like it,” but she quickly lost patience when Willow glared at her. “And you liked the banger and his girl. Remember? We compromised.” The passenger door swung shut. Buffy slipped the car into first and dumped the clutch. The sooner we’re gone, the happier I’ll be. I half expect D’Hoffryn to pop into the back seat. Not that leaving will do anything about that, but this place just sucks.

“Buffy, its red and it has a huge phoenix on the hood,” Willow commented dryly.

“Yeah, and under that hood four hundred and fifty-five cubic inches of fun,” Buffy noted, glancing at the shaker scoop. A grin plastered across her face as she slid the car sideways onto the highway. “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind the hood so much when you were draped across it.” Pressing the pedal to the floor, she mumbled, “I wonder what the SD stands for.”

It surprised her when Willow replied, “Shiny Dick.” Buffy tried, but couldn’t get a ‘what’ in edgewise. The witch spoke right over her. Go figure. I can’t even talk to myself. “That’s what this thing is. It’s a replacement for what he lacked ‘under the hood.’ Now his girlfriend…” she planted a heel on the dash “…she was sweet.” She groaned, interrupting her pointless monologue. Nice. I should call her ‘Miss Andry.’ Combat boots might’ve been a better choice.

Buffy glanced at the passenger seat. Willow’s hand was nestled between her thighs. Christ! Doesn’t she ever come up for air?

Snickering, Willow purred seductively, “I considered asking if I could keep her as a pet, but—”

That does it! Buffy cut in with a sharp, “No.” She ignored the show in the next seat, focusing her full attention on driving. She can act like a slut if it gives her a happy, but—

“Bronze?” Willow asked.

Buffy didn’t need to look to see the eye roll. It was plain in the witch’s tone. “Sure. Why not? Maybe we’ll get lucky and one of our girls will develop a case of the stupids,” she replied, shifting with a sharp flick of her wrist. Think what you want, but one of us needs to keep her eyes on the road.

“It’s always business with you. All Work, No Play Buffy. Lighten up. I wanna dance.” Despite the huskiness of her voice, Willow sounded exasperated.

“I can do both. In fact, as green as these girls are gonna be, I bet I can do both at once,” Buffy replied with a shrug.

“Oh…now you’re just turning me on. I’d pay to see that.”

Buffy glanced at her counterpart. She looked absolutely enthralled. Buffy growled softy and countered, “Careful or I’ll start calling you ‘Frog’.”

Willow arched her back and shot Buffy a dirty look, moaning softly, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me,” Buffy whispered, shaking her head. The sign announcing their return to Sunnydale came into view. Home sweet Hell. As they roared past it, she down shifted. Taking the first left, she plotted a route that kept them off the main thoroughfares. She’s right about one thing. This car’s just in no way subtle. She eased off the gas, trying to quiet the engine noise. The old car loped just above idle. It screams for attention. And attention’s the last thing we need. I’ll put it down tomorrow night.

She pulled into the alley beside the Bronze and sighed. Her passenger looked completely engrossed. Buffy cleared her throat and announced loudly, “We’re here,” rolling her eyes at the lack of response. Total waste of breath. I’m gonna have to get her into a twelve step. Yeah, that’ll be funny. Oh well, she’ll come after she’s cums.

Putting the car in reverse, she backed it deeper into the alley before shutting it off and climbing out. The doorman gave her one of those looks when she approached. I’m so not interested, buddy. She casually slipped him a fifty and remarked, “The dark haired chick too.” She nodded toward the car where she could plainly see the witch’s boots planted on the dash. Well, if he likes me, he’s gonna love her. Hope for his sake the cash buys some discretion.

When the doorman acknowledged her with a nod, she made her way inside, surveying the crowd. She crossed the dance floor and located a table near the rear exit. It wasn’t long before Willow joined her. She watched with mixed amusement as the witch suggestively suckled her fingers. The look on her face wasn’t too much different from the doorman’s. Whatever. “Don’t you ever get enough?” Buffy asked, leaning in to speak over the music.

“Not yet. And trust me, I’ve tried,” Willow replied. Her expression hardened. “It’s the only thing that makes me feel human.”

Buffy was startled by her friend’s candor, but brushed it off. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a twenty and asked, “Get drinks?” holding the bill up. When Willow tried to take the money, Buffy gripped it tightly, directing, “Something fruity. It has to look like Kool Aid or—” Friend? Is that—? Suppose its close enough. Near as I get.

She let go when Willow nodded and said, “’Kay,” turning to make her way through the crowd.

The witch only just made it to the bar before she was flirting again. Buffy placed her elbow on the table, appearing bored. This time it was a pretty older woman that she recognized. Another vengeance demon. Well, at least there’s a pattern. Maybe she’ll replace Tara and things will normal up. I just hope I get my drink first. I need it. Bad.

Moments later, Willow approached the table with a drink in her hand and the demon in tow. Leaning in, she set the cocktail in front of Buffy and said, “I’ll just be a sec.”

Buffy nodded and took a large gulp of what looked like orange juice. Not bad. She remembered. Orange and grapefruit juice with a shot of vodka. No clue if it has a name, but it’s my drink.

Once the two were gone, she spotted something on the dance floor that piqued her interest. A female vampire was working the crowd. She moved gracefully from one partner to the next until she found someone she could toy with.

Waiting for the vamp to leave, she sipped her cocktail gratefully and gazed into the crowd. Her eyes didn’t follow the vamp when she led her victim out back.

Counting to ten, she rose from her seat and followed them outside. Predictably, the young vamp had taken her snack to the vacant alley behind the Bronze. As Buffy rounded the corner, a smile twisted her face. She silently moved behind the vamp while she fed. This is gonna be fun. Clearing her throat, she asked in a voice thick with mock surprise, “What do you think you’re doing with my boyfriend?”

As the vamp swung around to meet the challenge, Buffy grabbed her throat. Making eye contact with the young man, she commanded, “Run.” He took the hint and she let go.

Buffy purred, “Let’s dance.” The first lunge came, predictable and sloppy. She sidestepped and said through a smile, “You lead.” A thud echoed her words.

The young vamp recovered from her spin into the wall and snarled. Buffy just grinned and folded her arms. That’s right, get mad. The crappier you are, the more fun this’ll be for me.

Closing her eyes, she felt the muffed bass. It vibrated through the thin wall of the Bronze. As the music took hold, she anticipated her opponent’s next move. She swayed her hips while bending her upper body away from the amateurish kick. The air swirled around her face.

Her eyes snapped open. She narrowed them and growled, “You can do better,” gesturing for her opponent to bring it on. Yeah, she’s a slayer. Not an ounce of style, but she’s fast. Like that means anything.

Buffy kept time with the music, moving with it as she maneuvered left. As her adversary tracked her, she clenched her fists and glowered. Smiling, Buffy said, “My turn.” She bounded backward to center herself in the alley.

The young vamp pursued, but Buffy just danced around her. Watching for clues, she focused on her rival’s shoulders and hips. All the signs were there. She didn’t try to hide anything. It was easy to judge exactly where she was headed. And where ever that was, was where Buffy wasn’t.

Frustrated by a dozen near misses, the inexperienced vamp sprung. As she flew past her target and crashed into the dumpster, Buffy just danced. I can’t watch much more of this. It’s just wrong.

All smiles and giggles, she poured on the saccharine just to piss the other vamp off.

It worked.

Furious, the young vamp shook herself off and charged again. The assault was pointless. She missed Buffy by a mile. Y’know what they say, ‘all good things—’ Even if they aren’t all that good.

Without warning, she stopped. Her playmate threw a hard right hook. Buffy snatched her fist out the air. As she clamped down on her victim’s hand, blood seeped between Buffy’s fingers.

The vampire’s face rippled, returning to its human form. Buffy was startled by how young she actually was. Tears trickled down the girl’s cheeks. Her body trembled. Fear reflected plainly in her eyes.

Buffy smiled sweetly and whispered, “It’ll be okay. Promise…” But her actions didn’t match her words. She wrenched her prey’s arm behind her back. A loud crack came from the girl’s shoulder. She cried out, begging for Buffy to stop. Desperate for freedom, her victim started to flail. Buffy took hold of the girl’s throat and finished her thought. “…I’ll make it quick.”

She nuzzled the girl’s neck. It smelled cold and dead, but Buffy forced the change. Her face tingled. She looked into her victim’s eyes. The blind terror that used to delight Buffy only made her want it to end. Releasing the girl’s throat, she embraced her.

That first taste should’ve been so much more. It wasn’t. The blood was bitter. It didn’t pour from the wound. Buffy shifted her bite, tearing into the thrashing girl’s neck.

A scream threatened to give them away, but Buffy stifled it by cupping her hand over the girl’s mouth. Determined, she suckled the gashes, struggling to make the blood flow. It was thick and sluggish. Like molasses. Drinking it was like swallowing liquid copper. It made her stomach knot. She ignored the discomfort and concentrated on her goal, the kill. I promised her I’d make it quick. I owe her that much. If it wasn’t for me, she’d be at home tucked safely in her bed.

As she fed, the girl grew listless. It’s funny, with all that folklore. All those supposed experts. Very few of them think of this. How do you kill a vamp? The big three always come up, but no one ever mentions exsanguination. It just doesn’t make the list.

When I die, I want to go like this.

The girl’s skin turned dry and papery in her mouth. Buffy tightened her hold and the body in her arms cracked. But that’s probably it. This is too kind. You just go to sleep. It’s not that much different for us than it is for them. It’s almost a human death. Or as close as we get.

I’ve only done this once. And I was clueless. It freaked me out when he went poof. But it makes total sense.

Blood means the same to us as it does to them. Even more. Blood is life. Lose enough of it and you die. That’s the bottom line.

Buffy drew in one last, sluggish taste of blood and her mouth filled with ash. Whatever. She deserved to die like one of them. Or close enough.

She spat and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Glancing back toward the club, her golden eyes locked with the witch’s.

Willow approached, holding a crisp hundred out. “That was beautiful.”

Taking the bill, Buffy smirked and winked at the witch. As Buffy’s face shifted, turning human, she said, “Thanks,” mocking a shallow curtsey. “You’re not so bad yourself, y’know?” Entwining her fingers with Willow’s, she towed the witch back into the Bronze. The assault of flashing lights and loud music was a little too much. Her face went hot. She pushed the nasty feeling aside in favor of small talk. “So how was your date?”

“Delicious.” A deceptively sweet smile played at the corners of the witch’s mouth. “Let’s dance, Buffy.” Her brow furrowed. She grew nervous and stammered, “I mean, really dance. Not like—well don’t—”

Buffy’s stomach cramped. Ignoring it, she smiled and replied, “I think I can handle that.” But it insisted. Feeling really green, she put her finger up and said, “Gimme a sec?”

When Willow nodded, Buffy slipped into the bathroom. Checking the stalls, she picked the least scary of the bunch. Mercifully, the one with the corpse wouldn’t even open.

Sickness gripped her. She shut the door and slumped to her knees. Human smells of filth made it that much easier. She leaned forward and purged. The blood came up like clotted cream. It splashed into the toilet, making her that much sicker. She closed her eyes, praying it would stop.

The door opened, but she barely noticed. A gentle hand rested on her back. “Oh, sweetie,” Willow whispered, reaching down to coil Buffy’s hair around her hand.

Tears welled up in her eyes. It was reflexive. This must be my body’s way of saying, ‘that was dumb.’ It could pick a nicer way. She retched one final time, steeling her resolve. But it doesn’t matter what it thinks. I’m still in charge. She wiped her mouth with her hand, stood up and flushed the toilet. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted as she pushed past Willow. Her stomach was still queasy, but better.

She stopped at the sink to wash up. Cupping her hands under the faucet, she splashed her face and rinsed the lingering metallic taste from her mouth. When she was satisfied that she wasn’t a total wreck, she reclaimed the witch’s hand and declared, “Well, I feel a thousand times better. Now, how ’bout that dance?”

“I’m all yours,” Willow replied with a smile.

Leading her to the dance floor, Buffy draped her arms loosely around the witch’s neck and began to sway her hips to the music. She smirked when Willow put her arms around her, somehow magically avoiding all the scars. Willow naturally fell into the rhythm, letting go as Buffy held her. “When’d you learn to dance, Will?”

Tilting her head to make eye contact, Willow whispered her answer. “A long time ago. There’s a lot about me you missed, Buffy.”

I’m not sure exactly what, but I do know she’s right. I guess it’ll be a surprise. You gotta love the surprises. Well, sometimes, when they aren’t potentially lethal.

As Buffy slowed with the new song, the witch moved closer, firming her embrace. It felt good. Buffy resigned herself to just go with it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything that felt this good besides killing. Pushing all the nagging doubt aside, she met Willow’s gaze and held it, moving her body with the slow tempo.

A few moments drifted lazily by and Buffy rested her cheek on her friend’s shoulder. Fingers laced through her hair, caressing her scalp. Contented, she shut her eyes. This feels so weird. It’s really good, but I’m not sure. Contented just isn’t an easy thing for me. It never fails to get me hurt.

Willow lifted her head. And I’d better get sure. Their lips touched once and she pulled away. Buffy very nearly recoiled, but the touch was so timid. It’s like she’s asking permission.

Who are you? And what have you done with my Willow?

Buffy was just about to open her eyes when Willow kissed her again. I guess I kind of expected this. But not like this. Not at all. All the other times she’s touched me she’s been so rough. There’s this demanding thing. This sense of urgency. Hunger. This is in no way the same.

If it was, I’d be halfway down the block by now.

Tenderness?

Willow’s lips brushed hers, ever so lightly. It was so subtle and supple it made Buffy’s skin tingle. She reached up, combing her fingers through Willow’s soft hair. The kisses caressed Buffy’s skin like a warm tide. It was unlike anything she’d ever known. Buffy melted into it.

Lost.

She wasn’t sure how or why, but the kiss deepened. Who changed it didn’t matter. What mattered was that the quality didn’t change. It wasn’t hungry or demanding. Her tongue caressed Willow’s. Each movement mirrored like they were connected. There was a strange sort of poetry to it all. It was tender, soothing…even loving, she imagined.

Weird.

As the next song started, Buffy kept time, withdrawing reluctantly from the kiss. She met the witch’s gaze, taken aback when the eyes that stared back were crisp and bright green. The hair that fell around Willow’s face had turned red and she was smiling, not wolfishly as Buffy expected, but softly and sweetly.

As soon as the song ended, Buffy pulled away from the witch and said, “I need some air.” Grabbing Willow’s hand, she pulled her along. The moment she hit the crisp night air, she began to search for her smokes. “Grrr…in the car,” she grumbled and took off toward the red Trans Am. Opening the door, she located her cigarettes and lighter in the consol.

When she climbed out of the car with a lit cigarette in her mouth, Willow teased, “Air, huh?”

“What?” Buffy said, feigning innocence. She slammed the car door shut with her hip and reached for the witch’s hand. “Let’s wander around for a bit and see if we can’t play hero.” Pocketing her cigarettes, she started off down the block with Willow in tow. “Maybe save a damsel in distress or something. It’ll be funny. Of course, the saving means violence and brutal killing which is much more my speed,” she concluded with a smirk.

Keeping pace, Willow asked, “’Kay, I’m in. Can I have the damsel?”

With a sideways glance, Buffy took in the evil grin on the witch’s face and rolled her eyes, exclaiming, “Don’t you ever—?” But she fell flat because it was just so pointless to ask. “No, no, you don’t. Y’know what? Never mind.” She shook her head, looking amused. “No, you can’t have the damsel. The idea’s to make with the big rescue. Eating the rescuee—not so much a part of the plan.”

“You take all the fun outta being bad.” Willow giggled.

Sighing, Buffy said, “Yeah, yeah…I know. I’m such a drag.” She shook her head and chuckled.

Willow joined in, but their laughter was short lived. Soon they walked together silently taking in their surroundings.

It was a warm spring night. The air might’ve even have smelled good if it weren’t for all the trash that littered the back alleys. Dilapidated buildings towered around them. Only a few incandescent bulbs lit their path. And this was all perfectly normal. Just another creeptastic night on the bad side of town.

What concerned Buffy was the quiet. Something was up. And having a clue what it was made her nervous.

They travelled several blocks before Willow asked, “What just happened back there?”

“I wish I knew, but I’m still working on that myself. I will tell you that I won’t be one of your fucks. Ever,” Buffy replied. Leave it to her to know just how to make things worse. Anxiety took its toll. Unconsciously, she sped up.

“I don’t want that,” Willow replied. The sincerity in her tone floored Buffy. “It’s weird. I feel human when I’m with you. Sex doesn’t matter. Not with that.”

Buffy gave the witch a sidelong glance when she stopped talking. Willow’s brow was knit. She’s as confused as I am.

The alley they were in faded to black a few blocks up. Buffy peered into the distance. She wasn’t even sure where they were going. She just needed to go. Increasing the pace seemed pointless, but she did and Willow kept up.

Finally, Willow spoke again. Not that words helped. “Not with us, like that. That’s sort of the point. It’s different. For the first time in a long time I feel alright. The thing that’s totally fucking with me is that you were the one—”

Losing patience, Buffy cut the witch off. “That made you a monster?” She flipped her cigarette away and stopped. But she didn’t let go. The sudden stop sent Willow spinning to face her. Taking both of her hands, Buffy made eye contact and said, “I dunno either, Will. It must be what was missing. Guess instead of cursing whoever, I should think about sending them a card. Whatever. Point is, if you don’t look for anything more than what this is, we can see where it goes.”

Willow nodded. “Works for me.” Restlessly looking down, she mumbled, “Oh, and Buffy…the teasing thing. I’m really sorry.”

Buffy slouched, forcing eye contact. When she had Willow’s attention, she said, “Be sorry for last night and we’re good. Anything before that’s a gimme.” She grinned. It was a kind gesture, full of sympathy. And completely alien to Buffy. I must be losing my mind. But there’s just so much. I’m on autopilot. Reacting, not thinking. If I think, this could all fall apart. And I’m pretty sure I don’t want that.

Willow smiled sheepishly, gazing down at their joined hands as she mumbled, “I was pretty sure you were screwing with me last night. It took me awhile to catch up. I had no idea what a soul might mean for you. How could I? Mine’s been dead for years.”

A pang of guilt crept up. Buffy shoved it aside. Fucking annoying. She ignored the last two things Willow said and focused on herself. It was easier. Me either. I still don’t. If you figure it out—

Willow changed tact, adding a sarcastic, “Besides, I was starved and that piss you gave me was half-dead and full of chemicals.” The attitude didn’t last. “Umm…” She hung her head and whispered, “Waking up next to you was nice. Again, maybe? I promise I’ll be good.”

Grinning, Buffy teased, “You, good? I’m so in, just to see that.” Releasing the witch’s hands, she lit another stick of artificial patience. Speaking through the smoke, she said, “Let’s get going. I wanna swing through a couple cemeteries. This whole ‘playing slayer’ thing is amusing. Besides, I’m starved.” Yeah, I’ve tried the full bit now. Animal blood, demon, vamp...it’s all the same. If I can keep it down, I feel like I’m dying. Last night’s kill was the first time I’ve felt good all week. I’m glad she forced the rethink. I’m just not sure what to do about it.

As they approached the Bronze, Buffy remarked, “Creepy isn’t it?”

Turning to stride between the grungy tin wall and the car, Willow put a hand on the passenger door handle, but paused without opening it. “Now that you mention it, a bit,” she replied.

Buffy met her gaze across the car roof. She held it for only a moment, giving Willow a significant look, then climbed inside.

Opening the door, Willow weaseled between it and the wall before she remarked, “We were out there for almost an hour…” she settled into the passenger seat “…and not even a single scream. In Sunnydale, a night without screaming is—” she pulled the door shut “—well, I dunno, but it’s wrong.”

After starting the car, Buffy noted, “And you’d think we would’ve run into Faith. We walked her normal beat. Stupid rent-a-cop.”

Leaning forward, Willow rubbed her arms as she said, “I know it doesn’t explain the last week, but with you here, she could afford to be lazy. You kind of took care of anything nasty. And she couldn’t touch you, so…” I was amazed she showed at the vineyard. But I’d rather not bring it up. We’ve talked about that enough now.

Buffy didn’t notice the ‘I’m freezing’ dance in the next seat. Willow choked down the impulse and fastened her seatbelt. She settle for folding her arms as Buffy spoke, “She tried. It always ended badly—” a grin made the little blond look positively evil “—for her.” She giggled. “I think we should go visit Faith tomorrow. Maybe buy her some flowers?”

As the car crept forward to the end of the alley, Willow snickered and said, “I’d love to see her face. How ’bout a dozen white roses?”

“Oh, that’s good,” Buffy replied, “Classy,” giggling as she turned the car onto the main street. “Faith would shit herself.”

Willow didn’t answer. She was way too frozen and tired for small talk. It was fine while we were moving. No wonder she was always so hyper. Closing her eyes, she reached out, leeching heat from the things around her. There’s something else there. Something she’s not saying. I know Buffy. She wants to check up on the opposition, but—

And I do mean great big, huge but—

Umm…

There’s nothing huge about her butt.

A faint giggle slipped out. Willow cut it off before Buffy noticed. Or maybe she did, but she isn’t saying anything.

Good thing too ’cause what would I say? I sure don’t wanna talk about Faith. That leaves me with, ‘You’ve got a great ass?’ Yeah, that’d go over well.

Willow’s skin started to tingle. She was getting warmer. It felt good, so she dismissed the icky feeling as a fluke. The tingling gradually grew stronger and harder to ignore. Finally, it turned into burning. There was the faintest hint of charred flesh in the air. It caused her to wig. She stopped abruptly. Oh!

Oh, that’s bad!

Her eyes snapped open. Buffy had her window down. She didn’t notice. Or if she did—again with the silence.

They were about halfway to the hotel. Willow watched the suburban landscape drift past as she struggled to control the trembling. It was worse. There was something desperate about the cold now. It was something she couldn’t control.

Gritting her teeth, she started to shut her eyes, but the faint sound of Buffy’s voice grabbed her attention. “It gets better,” she remarked, reaching over to turn on the heater. “Or maybe not better. But you get used to it.”

The warm air felt wonderful. It took a few moments to relax, but Willow dismissed the flub and shut her eyes. Where was I? Uh…

Buffy’s cute little tushie?

Willow snickered. No, good subject, but— “Thank you,” she whispered.

“It’s no big,” Buffy replied, “I do get it, y’know?”

Opening her eyes, Willow glanced at her partner and nodded. I’m honestly not sure she does. ‘Get it,’ that is. Buffy wouldn’t go out of her way to check up on Faith. Not the Buffy I know. She’d totally have some minion call the hospital if Faith came up missing. It’d be more about punishing the one that dared touch her slayer than anything to do with Faith.

The warm air blowing in her face caused Willow’s eyes to drift shut. Faith’s her property. Just like I am. I never worried about anyone touching me. They all knew if they did, she’d find new and creative ways to dismember them.

As they slowed, the engine of the old car grumbled. Willow opened her eyes just in time to see the driveway of the hotel. Last night was bad. I’m not sure where I stand now. I just woke up all groggy. And she was acting so weird.

I guess I’ll find out.

Buffy stopped the car and pulled the parking brake, leaving it idling under the hotel’s carport. She rolled up her window and got out. As she walked away, she motioned for Willow to stay. That’s the thing. I’m not even sure she’s sure. Actually, I’m pretty sure she’s not. She’s running without a compass. And that’s so not like her. It was always about the plan with her.

She’d never hurt herself over some strange girl. But she did tonight. I watched it. And it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

It was getting way too hot in the car. Willow reached for the lever to turn the heater down. I’m not even sure why she did it. If she knew the blood was making her sick, why didn’t she stop? Maybe it was some foolish sense of nobility. Noble? She snorted. Her? Who’d’ve imagined.

Or maybe it was some vamp thing I don’t get. Territorial pissings. Her sharing the intimacy of the kill. I dunno…

All I know is the way she moved was so sensual, but at the same time it was like something from a movie. Or a comic. Actually, not to wear out the theme, but it was sort of like that weird guy from ‘Interview,’ ‘The Trickster.’ Bursts of speed like nothing I’ve ever seen coupled with dance. But where he was just an idiot, she was ungodly sexy.

That’s something else I don’t think she gets. Just how unbelievably—

The door opened and Buffy slid into the driver’s seat. As the car began to move, Willow fixated on her companion’s profile.

Sexy.

Once the car was parked, Willow got out, folded her seat forward and leaned in to collect her share of their belongings from the backseat. She glanced at Buffy when she shut the door with her hip. But so damned young.

As Buffy led the way to their room, Willow’s attention came to rest on her ass. Who am I kidding? I fell for her years ago. She may look like a trampy little mall rat, but—reality check—she’s really older than me. She just got stuck in time sooner.

This pedophilic vibe is totally tetchy. Let’s face it. The conscience might be entertaining, but—

Yeah…just look at that butt.

Stopping at the end of a long, boring, beige hallway, Buffy took the keycard from her pocket and opened the door. Willow entered the room, oblivious to their surroundings. She paused in the entry to put the shopping bags in the closet. Crossing the room, she took a seat in one of the two accent chairs on the far wall.

After setting a box of stemware on the kitchenette counter, Buffy stooped to stow the blood in the fridge, keeping one bag out for dinner. When the cooler was empty, she stood up and stepped around the corner to stash it in the closet. She faced Willow and commented, “We’re either gonna have to find a suck-house…” returning to the kitchenette to warm her supper “…or raid the hospital if this keeps up.” Picking up the bag of blood, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “I dunno about you, but I think this shit’s better than suck-house any day.”

The air was on in the room. Willow was way more interested in being warm again. She offered a noncommittal, “Whatever works for you,” reaching between her shoulders to loosen the laces of her top. “I could probably live on pig’s blood, but it might make me crazy.”

Buffy turned, leaning against the counter. She made eye contact and asked, “Is that your way of saying you’re in?” Obviously stressed over making her meaning completely clear, she added, “I mean, like, really—for where ever this takes us?” She shook her head. The look said she felt stupid for even asking. She poured the contents of the bag into a wineglass and put it in the microwave to warm.

Willow replied, “Yeah, I guess so,” unhooking the front of her top. She let it fall into the chair behind her, continuing to undress while she reflected. “I really didn’t think of it that way. But now that you said it, I’m not sure I’d know what to do without you. If you need me to be something else, I changed once for you. I can do it again.” There was a moment of conflict where she considered straightening up the pile of clothes. It didn’t last. The cold won out. She slid under the covers, wishing there were more.

Removing her dinner from the microwave, Buffy walked over to the bed, swirling the liquid as she moved. She placed the glass on the nightstand and took a seat before she spoke. “If I could undo anything, that’d be my choice.” Willow rolled onto her side and cupped her head in her hand. “But we both know how twisted up wishes can get, so let’s leave it and try to fix what’s left.” Wow. That almost sounded like an apology. I don’t think—

No, actually, I know, she’s never apologized for anything.

As Buffy took her glass and walked around the bed to take a seat in the empty chair, Willow watched her intently, turning to follow her progress. Buffy lit a cigarette and quickly drank her dinner while she smoked. When the glass was empty, she stamped her cigarette out and made her way to the bathroom.

Warmer, Willow shut her eyes and tried to relax for sleep. She dozed, listening to the sound of running water, then the rustle of the drapes and the click of the door lock. Finally, Buffy approached the foot of the bed and whispered, “Ask me that question again. This time no attitude.”

Willow opened her eyes. She was surprised to see the towel. Buffy hadn’t dressed. Her hair was freshly blown dry. She smelled like something spicy and floral that Willow couldn’t quite place. Trying to push back the shock, she stammered a little before finally answering. “What happened to you?” Her mind raced. She rushed to fill in, “Is that the right one? Sorry, I hope that’s the right—” Flustered and struggling to compose herself, she fell flat.

Snickering, Buffy said, “Will, I’m not gonna.” She combed her hair back with her hand, holding it on top of her head. “Actually, I’m not even sure I can. So put your tongue back in your mouth.”

She let her hair fall around her face. Her amusement had a really short shelf-life. Buffy went cold as she explained, “It’s just—I never want anyone to feel sorry for me. I’d have to kill them if they did. So this story, I’ve not been big with sharing. In fact, I’ve shared it exactly never.” She dropped the towel and crawled onto the bed, lying down on her tummy next to Willow on top of the blankets. “I just want you to see. Touching might be easier if you have an idea.”

Willow sat up. Her jaw clenched and she swallowed. Dutifully, she traced a line down Buffy’s back and legs with her eyes. The scars weren’t much different than those of a severe burn victim. The tissue was thick and corded. The weird thing was how they were limited to only areas that would be covered by her clothes. I sorta got it before, but seeing…

She was made. This was done intentionally, with great care. It’d have to be ’cause if she was human at the time—and scaring, so she was—this much trauma could’ve easily killed her.

She turned onto her back. Not touching, Willow silently went over every mark as Buffy whispered, “No one besides Xander ever saw me like this. And you know what happened to him. I have no clue whether he ever said anything. But no one had the nerve to say anything around me. Good for them. Again, it would’ve meant…” she trailed off, giving Willow a moment to think.

Somewhere between Buffy’s ankles and chin, Willow’s brain was numb. She tried to recall what she’d been like at fifteen and imagine how she might’ve dealt with this. The overwhelming answer was, ‘not as well.’

Tenderly tracing a line of unblemished skin on Buffy’s stomach, she whispered, “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” That’s the thing, I bet she doesn’t. All she sees is what she can see when she looks down. And that’s monstrous to her, so she behaves accordingly. I mean, I get that there’d be anger over this. Lots and lots of anger. But one thing fed the other, making her what she is.

She’s isolated and she can’t see.

Trembling at the touch, Buffy grumbled, “With clothes? Yeah, I’ve got something I can use. It’s a tool, just like all the rest.” Willow met her gaze. She can’t see how her eyes turn the most beautiful shade of blue-green when she’s turned on. Like now.

Strange…

And they’re this amazing crisp, bright blue when she’s happy…or up to something. She does mischief really well. She gets these cute little dimples when she smiles.

The way she moves is just gorgeous. So graceful and confident. It’s like she doesn’t even have to think.

When she’s angry, her eyes look like steel.

She doesn’t get it.

When Willow withdrew her hand, Buffy opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows. She watched keenly as Willow scrutinized her.

I’m amazed she’s being so patient. Willow grew bolder. Her attention lingered where she knew it shouldn’t. It surprised her that Buffy allowed the intrusion. But it didn’t last. Her mouth watered. She held onto her own hands to keep them from wandering. The way she smells is just—

Bad!

Not bad her, bad me. It’s just, she smells good. Too good. ’Kay, so…stopping now before she kills me.

Pulling the covers back, Willow gestured Buffy underneath and whispered, “With, without, it’s all the same. It’s still you.” Spooning against her back, Willow held tight. She placed her fingertips on an unmarred area of her partner’s stomach, tenderly caressing the supple skin. But she let go when Buffy reached over to turn out the lamp.

Willow carefully repositioned her hands as Buffy settled in and began to murmur, “The thing you have to understand about me. I was a lot like Cordelia Chase when I was fifteen. Not that rich. Just popular. Doing what we did—it was like…well, I dunno. By then, I wasn’t feeling an awful lot, so…”

She claimed the hand Willow placed on her stomach. As Buffy whispered, “This whole thing—feeling anything except rage—I’m not even sure how to deal,” she guided it up between her breasts. “I’ve just sorta been shoving things aside until I have time to look at them. All I felt was rage for so long. It was like a comfortable friend. I’m not sure I can love. So don’t expect it. I do know I feel something. And that’s way different than nothing.” Bringing Willow’s hand to her lips, she tenderly kissed it.

Borrowing her hand back, Willow swept the hair away from Buffy’s neck, gently kissing just under her ear. “You don’t have to tell me.” She smiled when Buffy reclaimed her hand.

“No, you don’t get it,” she replied, “I actually want you to know. I need you to understand.” Her voice was delicate, but gravely. It sent a chill down Willow’s spine. “Hell, I may even need to talk about it. Maybe it’s some sorta perverse part of the ‘healing process,’ like those stupid books say. You’re certainly better than going to eat a shrink,” Buffy insisted with a subtle shake of her head.

She turned onto her back and guided Willow into the curve of her shoulder. As Buffy whispered, “The comparison to Cordy’s totally right,” soft fingertips caressed Willow’s back, setting her at ease. “It was after a game no less. Hemery won. I was psyched, still cheering and doing cartwheels in the parking lot while I waited for one of the girls to give me a lift home.” Willow fixated on Buffy’s profile and watched as her expression grew progressively more detached. “The next thing I knew I was chained in a room. My arms and legs stretched so tight I couldn’t move.”

It felt a little strange, but Willow moved her hand to rest on Buffy’s hip. The damage there wasn’t nearly so bad. Buffy was so lost in reflection she didn’t notice. “I opened my eyes and this petite blond woman was smiling at me. It confused me. She didn’t look like she could hurt a fly. But considering where I was—” Buffy cleared her throat. “She was sorta sweet looking with an almost impish grin. She introduced herself as Darla.”

There was a pause. The slow rhythmic movement of Buffy’s hand against her back lulled Willow. She listened closely to the sound of Buffy breathing. Reflex had taken over. A tear trickled down the side of her face. It left a faint, cloudy trail on her pale skin. Suppressing the urge to offer comfort, Willow shut her eyes.

Eventually, Buffy’s thin voice resonated just above the ambient sounds. “Darla stepped aside, letting me see the rest of the room. Everyone that mattered to me was dead. She wanted to show me, so she’d arranged a scene. I screamed like a good victim should.” Her hand fell still against Willow’s back. “I stopped being a victim right then. I felt nothing but hatred when I turned to look at her.”

During the silence that followed, Willow tried to imagine the scene. She found she couldn’t. Maybe it’s a blessing. But the truth is, all I know about Buffy is what she’s told me. And that’s almost nothing until now. I have no idea who might’ve mattered to her. A mother and father maybe? But my cousin was raised by her Grandmother, my Great Aunt. So, how can I know? It’s possible her family didn’t mean anything to her at all.

I really don’t need to know. Dead people in the room is more than enough. Plenty. I’ve already established it took days. Probably more like weeks. And I’m gonna take a stab and say it wasn’t cold. Vampires don’t exactly like meat lockers. It must’ve been—

“She stared at me for a moment or two and as she did her face changed. I had never seen a vampire before. I was terrified and shaking so hard. But there was also this overwhelming rage. The first thing she did…she tore my uniform off and raped me. She stood beside me so I could see the room.”

Horrible.

Opening her eyes, Willow focused on Buffy’s face. There were no more tears. The one had already dried, leaving behind crumbly specks of black. Her expression was hard, cold and dangerous. Though it irked at Willow, she resisted the desire to flee.

The truly disturbing part was that the quality of Buffy’s voice hadn’t changed. It was still delicate, but with a raspy edge. “She alternated methods of torture like an expert, feeding off me as I bled. Then she’d use alum or heat to stop the bleeding. I’m not sure how long it lasted. I just know I stopped feeling. I’d pass out. When I woke up, it’d begin again. Days of this, I guess. But there was no real way to tell. I don’t know.”

Buffy sighed and sucked in a deep breath. “Anyway, I should’ve just been another dead little girl. I was so close when she finally did it. It would have been so easy.” For the first time during the account, her voice actually held an emotional edge.

Willow’s brow crinkled. Regret. She wanted to die. And I can’t really say I blame her.

Buffy used her free hand to wipe her eyes and let it go limp. It fell on top of the bedspread. She swallowed and tensed her jaw. Her voice was stronger when she spoke this time. “But Darla, she just couldn’t be satisfied. She had to make me a monster. What she was thinking is anyone’s guess.”

A storm was brewing. Willow slipped away, just out of reach, turning onto her side so she could watch cautiously.

The hand Willow could see tightened into a fist. Buffy hissed, “Turning me was a mistake. One of epic proportions.” Willow almost jumped when Buffy turned to face her. There was something disturbingly feral about the expression on her face. Her eyes were dark and cold in a way that didn’t suit the rest of her. It made Willow’s skin crawl, but she stopped herself from moving, recognizing that Buffy was looking right through her.

“When I woke again, I ripped myself free and wrapped the chains around my arms and hands. Then I beat her. I let all the rage go. I became a weapon. It surprised me how natural it felt. I wasn’t a fighter. It surprised me more when she fell to ashes. Crushing the brainstem counts as decapitation, just in case you were wondering. I put my hand through her face. The next punch broke my wrist. And the concrete floor.”

Inhaling a deep, controlled breath, Buffy calmed. As she let the breath go, she motioned for Willow to return. “It’s okay, Will,” Buffy said in a soothing tone.

Willow obeyed. A weight lifted when Buffy embraced her. No, she doesn’t have the capacity to love. Not at all. No way. Now other stuff…that’s gonna be a lot more complicated. But what part of this isn’t complicated?

Chuckling softly, Buffy said, “This is actually sort of amusing, but not. It hurt like hell. There were no windows. Not that it would’ve occurred to me to look. I just wanted out. I ran for the door and almost immolated myself. It was broad daylight outside. I dove back into the room and slammed the door with my foot. When night fell, I left and fed for the first time. No remorse, no pain…nothing but pure rage.”

Moving her hand up to stroke Willow hair, Buffy asked, “So, after all that...know what I did?”

“You took a trip to Disneyland?” Willow deadpanned, trying to make Buffy laugh.

“Close,” she quipped, snickering despite herself. “Nah…what I did was go hunting. Darla was a talker. One of those types that likes to gloat. I took notes.” As Buffy spoke, hatred welled up again. The soothing touch stopped and Willow grew nervous. “This vamp named Angelus was her man. He was where this whole thing came from. He liked to torture little girls. Kill their families, violate their bodies. Sometimes he’d turn them. Other times not.”

Getting up, Buffy walked over to the table at the edge of the room, grabbing a smoke to calm down. She lit up and picked up the ashtray. Casually, she walked over to the bed and sat on the edge.

Willow studied her partner as she moved. She’s completely comfortable, not even a touch of modestly. The hiding was about the truth. I wonder how others see her. I know how I did.

Placing the ashtray on the nightstand, Buffy slouched, holding her head in her hand. Her attention fixed on the floor.

Willow curled up behind her. I wish I could rub her back. Make her feel better. But that’s the worst. There’s nothing I can touch. Anything else I can reach would feel too intimate. Like I’m coming on to her or something.

It’s strange, I dreamed about this for years. Being alone in a room with her, no one except us all naked and intimate. Now I’m here and there’s nothing naughty about it—nothing sexual—and I’m not disappointed. This is more intimate than I could’ve ever imagined. But I would’ve never bought it then.

She loves me. There’s no doubt about it. She just doesn’t understand.

She has to ’cause she’s never been more naked in her life.

Buffy didn’t resist when Willow settled for taking her free hand. She held rigid, only moving to mechanically smoke while she whispered, “I found Angelus first and beat the holy living hell out of him. He laid on this line about being sent to protect me. He was all broken up. I’m not sure what his trip was. Fucking liar. He was that, or a fucking failure. Meaningless bullshit. I could’ve cared less.” Pausing, she flicked her cigarette in the ashtray. “Funny thing was, he stood there and took most of it—like he accepted his fate. He died the same way his bitch did. But with lots more sniveling.”

Crushing her cigarette out, Buffy stood up and got the pack. She sat down and deposited it on the nightstand after lighting another.

They smell awful, but they do seem to help. She’s not nearly so stressed. And it’s not like she’s gonna die of cancer, so…I guess it’s okay.

Willow reclaimed her hand as Buffy picked up where she left off. “Then there was Spike and Drusilla. I actually came to Sunnydale to kill them and Darla’s sire…this old vamp called ‘The Master’.” Sarcasm thickened the last two words. Scoffing, she hissed, “How fucking pretentious do you have to be to call yourself that?”

Willow snickered through a grin, but she understood the truth. Because of gossip, she’d uncovered it years ago. The Master was no push over. If he had risen to power, it would’ve been really fucked up.

Buffy took a sharp drag off her cigarette, shaking her head as she exhaled. “I’m not gonna say it was all cake and candy,” she admitted, “But they died. I took them out one at a time.” Freeing her hand from Willow’s grasp, Buffy combed her hair back with her fingers. “With Spike and Drusilla it wasn’t so bad. They were pretty typical vamps. Not that I knew what that meant then. When I took them down, I made it last. I wanted to enjoy the experience. A vamp can lose a lot of parts before they turn all ashy and boring.”

She cleared her throat and said, “The Master was another story. Mind games and bullshit. He nearly won the first time. It was dicey, but I made it work.” She took another drag off her cigarette. Her expression became thoughtful. “See, the thing is, if you have nothing to lose, you can totally win.” Turning, she met Willow’s gaze and explained. “It’s like the suicide bomber. You can’t stop that. One person completely focused on a goal and willing to do whatever it takes can do anything.” Buffy flicked her ash. “The second time we met, I turned The Master’s churchy cavern into a crater. I’m not even sure how I survived. I didn’t want to.”

A wry grin made her eyes twinkle. “Yet, here I am,” she purred. Willow was both relieved and amused to see Buffy’s mood lighten. The topic shift—

Is it really a shift? Not really. But I knew a lot of this stuff from the rumor mill. Her minions are worse than a sewing circle.

She listened with interest as Buffy went on. “Luke managed to kill the local slayer, Kendra or whatever. What a pain in the ass he was. I almost dusted him. He fit the profile. But he was big and really stupid. Still is. The perfect minion. It took a bit of convincing to get the prick to toe the line. Once I did—”

Buffy took one final drag, crushed her cigarette out and slid back into bed. Pulling Willow up close, she said, “By the time the new slayer, Faith, got here, I was sitting with my feet up, in his majesty’s throne. Killing slayers has never been a thing for me. It doesn’t make any sense. But the guys…” She let out a scornful hiss. “Fucking idiots. Spike killed two. Luke one. Whatever. They thought they were all that. Like it made them big men to kill some little girl.”

Willow settled into the curve of Buffy’s shoulder. It felt really nice to be this close. To be accepted was like something from a dream. The sound of Buffy’s voice was soothing. Willow relaxed, just enjoying its timbre. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her talk this much. What she’s saying sounds really arrogant, but it’s the truth. There’s no pride in her voice.

“They had this fascination with slayer blood, like it’s different or something. Me, I’d rather keep my slayer in check. I kept Faith alive on purpose…forbade my people to touch her. Luke hated that, but if you keep them dull, they act dull. That’s why she can’t take me. Other than staking a few vamps in the graveyard every week, what’s she really got? I took down anything that even smelled like big bad before it got big enough to be a bad. My fave was when I blew up City Hall, remember?”

Willow’s eyes snapped open. She leaned up on one elbow to look at Buffy’s face. Buffy was grinning. “Yeah…I saw that on the news,” Willow replied. “I mean, we knew each other, but—” she broke off, reeling to get her head around this new information. The media called that a terrorist bombing. They even arrested some guys. I thought it was totally mundane. Incredulous, Willow asked, “You did that?”

“I did,” Buffy admitted. “On purpose and everything.” She tugged on Willow’s side to make her lie down. Willow went without protest, arranging herself exactly like she was before. When she was still again, Buffy explained, “The Mayor got this stupid idea he wanted to ascend. Y’know…become a demon. I heard about it and I hit him before he really got started, killed him and his whole staff, not to mention about a hundred other civil servants.”

Shaking her head, she whispered, “Trying to process guilt for me—” letting out a dry chuckle “—not so much.” Her eyes drifted shut. “It’s impossible really. Figuring out how I feel about anything besides what I need is sorta shelved for the moment.”

After pausing a minute to reflect, she concluded, “It’s the pain, y’know? If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger. I got strong. Faith got weak. She’s a complete apathy case.”

Willow smiled and offered the quote, “Friedrich Nietzsche, ‘That which does not kill us makes us stronger’.”

Looking down, Buffy put her finger under Willow’s chin and lifted until their eyes met. “We’re all we’ve got now,” she whispered. “And that’s all I have to give. The truth. As far as I’m concerned, I own you. You can fuck whoever you want, but you’re mine. And this…” her eyes narrowed “…this is mine.”

Willow didn’t have time to process the words. She gasped when Buffy rolled her onto her back. Her hands were wrenched over her head. She struggled to catch up as Buffy kissed her. All of the tenderness was gone. This was predatory, the kind of kiss that might accompany a brand. Willow knew better than to fight. She relaxed, allowing Buffy to dominate her.

In truth, it was like a fantasy. Willow had to stop herself to keep from raising her thigh. She wanted nothing more than to crush it into Buffy’s center. Instead, she played submissive. When Buffy let go, she panted, “I always was.”

Buffy turned onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. A devilish smile curled the corners of her mouth. Her eyes trailed down Willow’s body.

Ownership.

“Good,” Buffy purred.

Willow tried to catch her breath. Sexual heat hung heavy in the air. She resisted the impulse to touch. The need was so strong.

Movement came in a blur. Her eyes refused to focus. She couldn’t track it, but she felt it. She was crushed flat onto the bed.

She squeaked.

Her arms wrenched over her head more violently than before. A hand closed over her wrists, pinning them together. It clamped down so tightly it hurt.

Buffy used her other hand to compress Willow’s throat. Willow panicked and tried to scream. Buffy’s grip tightened, cutting the sound off.

Glaring coldly into Willow’s eyes, she snarled, “One more thing. Pin me again like you did last night and kill me or die. Those will be your choices. That was a freebie. Next time we play. Clear?”

She heard the words, but they didn’t make sense. Staring blankly into Buffy’s golden eyes, she fought the reflexive need to pant. I need to. Uh…

What does she want?

Willow struggled to think as tears welled up in her eyes.

Buffy snarled, “Clear?”

This time her word filtered through the panic. Willow wheezed, “Clear,” fighting off the fear and shock.

The instant she heard the word, Buffy released her grip. Her features softened, morphing to her human mask. “Good girl,” she purred.

Cupping Willow’s cheek, Buffy drew her into another kiss. This one was tender.

Willow freaked. The desire to pull away was so strong. She refused to give in, forcing herself to relax. Her wrists and throat stung. There are gonna be bruises. And I deserve them.

Buffy didn’t relent until the last drop of tension faded. Her lips caressed Willow’s. So gentle, affectionate, silky…

Turning with her as Buffy rolled onto her back, Willow positioned herself exactly as she had been placed before and settled for sleep.

Sighing softly, Buffy shut her eyes and caressed Willow’s back as she drifted off.

Willow was surprised to find herself alone when she woke. It worried her at first. She looked at the glow through the curtains, wondering why Buffy would leave. It’s okay. She’s not really gone. I have no clue where she is, but she’ll be back.

Still lying in bed, she stretched, arching her back. As she relaxed, her hands passed over her stomach. The blankets moved with them. She lay still for another moment half exposed and hopelessly needy, trying to suppress the urge to touch. I don’t want that. What I need is what I had last night.

Her eyes drifted shut. She remembered and imagined. Kisses so harsh they were hungry. Her lips still tingled. She took the memory and guided it. Her arms were pinned. Buffy’s mouth crushed against hers. As she forced her tongue between Willow’s lips, her grip shifted. Buffy used one hand to pin Willow’s arms. The other hand traced a line down her center.

As the fantasy unfolded, she used her own hand to make it feel real. Willow knew the truth, but suspended her disbelief. She was so swollen it almost hurt when her fingers pressed inside.

No.

The illusion shattered. She opened her eyes. This isn’t what I need. Her fingers slid out. I need her. I’ll take whatever she can give. But this is bullshit. It’s empty. Meaningless.

She crawled out of bed and wandered into the bathroom. Turning on the taps, she adjusted the temperature and flipped the lever. The shower turned on and she stepped in, leaning into the spray. Warm water flowed over her skin. She turned her back toward the soothing jets and closed the curtain.

I certainly didn’t need drugs to make my life a tragedy. I didn’t need them to become an addict either. I never was a very conventional girl.

Willow craned back, letting the water flow through her hair. All it took was her. One girl. The most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.

Snickering, she picked up the shampoo. I had no clue what it meant to be gay. Naïve little Jewish girl. The word was barely in my vocabulary back then. It didn’t even occur to me that what I wanted and what it meant were the same thing. I just knew I needed to be with her. I didn’t even begin to get the ‘why,’ much less the ‘what,’ or the ‘how.’ Those things came lots later.

She looked at the bottle in hand, realizing that this stuff is much more useful if you actually put it in your hair. So she did. Then she set the bottle down. The steamy shower stall filled with a sweet citrusy smell when she lathered it in. None of that mattered. What really mattered was that she wanted to talk to me. She was actually interested in me. Willow Rosenberg: class joke, homework gal, mousey, reliable…

And everyone’s favorite victim.

She closed her eyes and rinsed her hair. I couldn’t understand why she was interested. At first I kept wondering when she was gonna be mean. I just knew it’d start. But she wasn’t mean at first.

All of the suds died away. Willow reached down and grabbed the conditioner. She poured some into her hand, set the bottle aside and worked it through her hair. And by the time I actually understood what she was, I was addicted. I needed her. She made me feel good about being me. No one else even bothered.

I’m still addicted.

Willow hung her head under the spray. The water flowed over her face as memories flooded her mind. Xander even abandoned me after he got that stupid jacket. And he was supposed to be my best friend. I had such a huge crush on him. I would’ve happily given myself to him. In the end, he used the jacket to use me. Totally crazy, but he got exactly what he wanted and it wasn’t about anything as complicated as love. No wonder what I really want is to be conquered by her. Controlled and used.

I’m severely fucked up.

She bit her lower lip. It hurt, but she didn’t care.

Broken.

Picking up the sponge, she poured a little of the body wash into it. Jasmine, that’s what that was…citrus and jasmine. The two smells married, triggering more memories.

She says she owns me now. That’s almost laughable. I think it’s a vamp thing. She sired me, so…

Willow shut her eyes and absently trailed the sponge over her skin. She always has owned me. She made me. Every twisted inch of me. I became an addict and a murderer to please her. Addicted to dark magicks because she wanted and sex because I wanted. I used one drug to counter the other. Like the classic junkie. I take one for the up and the other for the down.

Now I need to stop.

One event—like pulling a card from the bottom of a card house—it caused a cascade. She snapped at me and hurt my feelings. She scared me. Tara and I were standing in the main room of the vineyard afterward, waiting for the geeks to break through and play hero. I begged her to grant me a wish. It was for me. For revenge. I wanted what Xander got with his stupid jacket. I never imagined Tara would be jealous. She tied it to the spell to hurt Buffy. Her soul, then all those innocent deaths. It was almost like what Darla did to her. More torture.

That one event—all those cards...and irony, lots of it. The most evil act of her entire unlife leads to her seeking redemption. I’m not sure she sees that yet. But it is what it is. And my death may be my salvation. Now there’s a laugh. That one event caused it all. It led to me getting what I actually wished for. More or less. Less ’cause—well…but way more ’cause I never expected any real intimacy. Or honesty for that matter. And I certainly didn’t expect anything that resembled love. Just a fuck.

And I was actually mad at Tara.

She looked down. The hand holding the sponge hung at her side. She had no memory of stopping. It doesn’t matter. She dropped it onto the ledge. It’s not like I sweat now. Just rinse the dirt off—

Turning, she let the water pound on her back. I was mad at Buffy too. That’s the thing about being an addict, anyone that questions the need is a target.

I promised her I’d try to change. Honestly, I can’t think of a better way to show her what she means to me.

Willow turned off the water, got out of the shower and grabbed a towel. She bundled her hair and took another, wrapping it around her body. When she exited the bathroom, she wasn’t alone anymore.

Buffy watched silently from her chair as Willow approached, dropping the towel as she moved. “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

Putting on her best pout, Willow whined playfully, “Yeah…but I woke up all alone.” She rubbed her hair and cast the second towel aside. Reaching down, she pulled Buffy to her feet, embracing her.

Buffy kissed the pout away. A soft sigh escaped her lips.“Forgive me?”

“Maybe,” Willow murmured. Buffy, caressing her back, made her brain go all mushy.

“Go look in the closet. It might help you make up your mind,” Buffy suggested.

Willow did as she was told. A bright smile lit her face as she sorted through the dresses. “Thank you,” she whispered, taking a black, v-neck, flowy charmeuse cocktail dress that caught her eye off the hanger. She slipped it on and glanced over her shoulder at Buffy. She was a lot closer than Willow expected and closing in.

She felt the dress pull and didn’t turn. Buffy stood behind her, gathering the silk waist sash in her hands. Tying it into an elegant knot, she ran her fingers down the trailing pieces of fabric. She stepped back to look and stated, “Beautiful.” Willow turned around, glad she couldn’t blush. Buffy ran her hands down Willow’s sides and whispered, “I’ve actually missed this sort of stuff. I can’t exactly wear something like this myself, so…maybe I can enjoy it another way. Does this bother you?”

“Dress me however you want. As you say, you own me. Besides, you have great taste, so I win any way you want to slice it,” Willow replied honestly.

“There’s more by the dresser,” Buffy said, “I’m going to take a shower.” Briefly meeting Willow’s gaze, she left the room.

Willow walked over to the dresser. Looking through the packages, she found two boxes from a florist. She opened the first box. There were a dozen white long-stemmed roses just like she’d suggested. The card was for Faith. Not at all surprised, she smirked and shut the lid.

She opened the second box. Her smirk became a smile when she saw her name. There were a dozen long-stemmed, red roses nestled in a thatch of baby’s breath. She took the card out. Inside it in Buffy’s neat script was written, ‘You’re the only one.’ After puzzling for a moment, she set the card aside and returned to the packages.

The first thing that jumped out were two identical boxes from a gift shop downtown. She opened one. It contained a crystal vase. She went to the kitchenette and filled it with water, returning to the dresser to arrange her flowers. When she was satisfied, she set them in the middle of the dresser and stood back admiring them for a moment before continuing.

The last items in the gift store bag were two silk scarves, one white and one so dark green it was nearly black. The final bag contained something she had wondered about, makeup. The no mirror thing really sucks. Buffy never seemed to mind it. Now I know why.

In the closet, she found half a dozen shoe boxes. I’m beginning to wonder how she managed this. She located a pair of black flats and slipped them on as Buffy exited the bathroom.

“What’d you mean?” Willow asked.

Buffy’s focus was on toweling her hair dry. Without looking, she said, “Which?”

“The only one,” Willow offered to refresh her memory.

Buffy smiled warmly. “Oh, that.” She gathered the dirty towels into a pile by the door as she replied, “You’re the only one I ever cared enough about. That I felt was worthy to sire. It may sound really cliché or like something pathetically vampy. But what it means, simpled up, is that I couldn’t let you go.”

Willow crossed the room and embraced Buffy, whispering in her ear, “No one’s ever bought me flowers. I’m not really the sort of girl that inspires sentimental gestures. Thank you.” She gave her partner a tender kiss.

Buffy didn’t comment. Instead she gently pulled away.

Willow left her alone. She’s obviously in a hurry to get ready. I wonder where we’re going. Sitting back in one of the chairs, she casually crossed her legs. Her attention fixed on the little blond. Nothing new. But at least I don’t have to hide it now.

When she saw the things Buffy intended to wear, Willow asked, “Why the dress up?” Now watching her put on her bra and panties—that is new. I could seriously get used to this.

Buffy snickered as she pulled on her tight, black leather pants and said, “We’re going to visit Faith in the hospital.” She slipped on a white silk blouse and glanced up from buttoning it when Willow giggled.

“Gone for a week and your pet slayer tries to get herself killed. Sounds about right,” she commented through a laugh.

“Something like that,” Buffy replied with a wink. “I stopped by the Magic Box and it was closed, so I made the calls. It seems little Faithy’s recovering from major surgery.”

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