Bloodletting

A Multitude of Sins

A ribbon of blacktop stretched out before them. It carved a path through the trees to a place Willow had called home for years. An impressive Mediterranean Revival villa came into view as she peered past the limits of the headlamps into the night. The sight of it looming atop the hill brought a knot to her tummy. I never saw myself living in a place like this. Even as a little girl, this wasn’t what I wanted.

Buffy likes it, so I guess it’s okay.

As the car crept along, the forest thinned, giving way to manicured lawns and landscaped gardens. I have to admit, it really is beautiful here. Just outside of town, on the edge of wine country. The nearest house is a quarter mile away. It’s perfect.

Perfectly meaningless.

My dad used to say, “The truest measure of success is a job well done.” I’m not sure where he got it. If it was him, or just some phrase he picked up. It sounds a little like a motivational poster. But that doesn’t matter. I believed it.

I still do.

I don’t have to ask what my dad would think of me now. He’d be appalled. More like mortified. All of these worldly measures of success and what am I really good at…?

The girl in the window came back to haunt Willow. Blue eyes filled with terror. The skin peeled from the girl’s pretty young face and Willow felt sick all over again.

That’s what I’m good at. It’s the only thing.

The house wasn’t getting any smaller and she wasn’t getting any calmer. I’m not so sure this is such a great idea. Tonight’s been plenty weird enough. Thank you very much.

But it didn’t matter what Willow thought and she knew it. Buffy was locked on course. Only an act of divine intervention could stop her.

It felt like I was standing tiptoe on a tightrope. Below me was this great big, murky pit of evil. I knew that if I just let myself fall, my conscience would still hurt for a while, but it wouldn’t last. It didn’t before. The badness, that nagging feeling, it just drifted away and I felt good. Powerful.

I would’ve fallen. I sure wanted to. I still sorta do.

What stopped me was her. Buffy. I just can’t stand to disappoint her.

Not that it matters, but I think she’d make good on her threat. She’d kill me, or try. I’m not even sure how that’d go. I’d really like to think that I’d just let her do it. I’d rather die than hurt her. But that’s ‘the me’ that’s here, now, not that other thing, so…

They turned onto the circular, red cobblestone driveway. When the car pulled up in front of the arched façade, Willow asked, “You sure you want to be here?” It was a last ditch effort to find reason.

I may as well save my breath. It’s completely useless.

Taking her hand, Buffy replied, “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. It’ll be fine, Will. Just relax.” The hand holding was nice. Willow felts lots better until Buffy let go. “Just follow me and act pissed off. They’re scared as hell of you,” she whispered and got out of the car.

The driver’s door shut and Willow realized that she was being left in the wake of hurricane Buffy again. Since we kissed, she’s been totally tweaked. I get that it’s not easy for her, but wow.

Maybe that’s it? She’s distracting herself. Anyway, I thought for sure she was gonna leave me in the sewers. I’m really glad she didn’t. I was lost.

Willow caught up just in time to watch the double front doors swing open. Dressed in a white button-down shirt and charcoal dress slacks, Luke stood in the foyer, looking like a cross between a businessman and a Mr. Universe contender. One thing was certain, he was intimidating.

Hanging back behind Buffy, Willow just followed her cues. Act pissed off? She scrunched up her brow and narrowed her eyes. I probably look like an idiot.

Luke didn’t seem to notice. He was way more interested in Buffy. “Welcome home, Mistress. We were becoming concerned,” he said in his usual deep, throaty voice as he motioned them inside.

The eye roll was obvious, even standing behind Buffy. Her whole posture changed. Every inch of her read ‘attitude.’ Willow had to stop herself from smirking.

Without missing a beat, Buffy snarked, “Let me worry about what you should and shouldn’t be concerned by, Luke. Thinking that much…it’ll get you in trouble.”

Luke started to stammer. He got the word, “Where,” out before Buffy cut him off with an order. “Lock the geek in a cell downstairs. I want a word with him later.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Luke said with a curt bow.

Not even acknowledging his reply, Buffy pushed past him and set off through the house.

Willow shadowed her. She felt like a shadow. The only clue of her presence was the click of her heels on the tiled marble floor. They entered the main hall and ascended the right staircase. As they strode toward the next set of staircases at the back of the second floor, she looked down from the balcony. Luke was moving away from them, toward the lower east wing.

Dutifully following her partner, Willow climbed the next set of stairs and strode down the west wing right past both of their bedrooms. My room’s the last place I wanna be, but I kinda thought that’s where I was going. I’m not even sure how I’d get in. I don’t have my card.

Whatever. I could get in if I wanted to. Thing is, I thought she’d go to hers and I’d go to mine. Or maybe, she’d invite me into hers. That’d be really neat. I’ve never been in her room.

What are we doing?

Buffy stopped in front of the elevator at the end of the hallway and punched the button. Willow didn’t speak, but she made herself perfectly clear with a look. So, we just climbed all the way up to ride back down? There’s another floor in this wing, but it’s a game room. I can’t see why she’d want to go there. It’s vamp central. Uh…

“It only works from here. Just hang on and I’ll explain,” Buffy whispered. The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside.

Willow followed, watching Buffy’s every move for some hint of what was going on. The doors closed and she pushed the stop button. But that wasn’t the weird part.

Turning around, Buffy stood on her tippy-toes and rubbed her bottom against the buttons. When she stepped away, the control panel swung open. There was a number pad behind it.

Willow grinned. So, that’s the big secret. Buffy has a magic bottom. Well, I knew that before, but I didn’t know it did tricks.

Buffy keyed in a string of numbers Willow couldn’t make out and the elevator began to rise. The maintenance panel clicked closed and Buffy turned to give Willow a reassuring smile.

They ascended a full floor. Willow tensed, preparing for another encounter with the boys. She was certain that the doors would open. When they didn’t, she began to wonder if she was just imagining the sensation of rising. We’ve run out of house. At least I think we have.

The doors finally opened and Buffy stepped into a room that was paneled in rich burled maple. Green Berber carpet covered the floor.

This was uncharted territory. Willow would’ve never guessed it was here. When she exited the elevator, the doors slid closed and it automatically descended. The room wrapped around two sides of the elevator shaft. It reminded Willow of a lawyer’s office without the personal effects and the desk. But there were no doors or windows that she could see. There’s nothing here. It’s just a pretty wooden box. Glad I’m not claustrophobic ’cause this’d be the perfect place to lose it.

Turning left, Willow’s attention remained fixed on her partner. Buffy neared the back wall, doing a similar little dance as she had in the elevator. The faint sound of a locking mechanism sliding inside the wall caught Willow’s attention. Buffy pushed and the wood panel swung in.

Willow inspected the door as she passed into the room. It wasn’t a door at all. Not really. Not in the conventional sense. Though it was paneled on either side, the edge was thick, stair-stepped and made of steel like a safe door with bolts that slid out of it to lock it closed. It gave the impression that they were walking into a hidden bomb shelter.

Buffy flipped the light switch. A floor lamp next to the couch came on. When she stepped away from the door, it shut on its own. Pulling a keycard from her back pocket, she handed it to Willow.

Willow stared at the card. It was just a plain piece of heavy, white plastic. She turned it over. The only thing on the other side was a very faint globe, like a watermark. It was like her room card, only not. Hers had blue print on it. I wonder what happened to that. She tried to recall how many times in the past Buffy had just disappeared. This is brilliant. She gets on the elevator and people just assume. I never would’ve guessed.

Crossing the room, Buffy flopped down on a small, floral print loveseat and said, “The code is: nineteen-eighty-one-two-nineteen-ninety-five. You’re the only one who knows.” She snickered. “Well, you, the construction company that built this place and the architects. Rooms like this are kind of a thing. Pretty much every mansion has one. They’re sort of a trade secret. Like the numbers a good accountant hides. The smart one’s never talk about it. Besides, without the card and the code, the information’s useless.”

Most of what Buffy said just slipped away. It was meaningless detail. The two dates stuck. Wouldn’t that be ninety-six? Maybe it’s something else? “What are the dates?” Willow asked.

Buffy replied, “Birth, death, the usual.” Willow had something to say. The objection was right on the tip of her tongue, but it fell out the instant Buffy went on. “Look, Will, no legend is ever self-made. It doesn’t work that way. Legends are created by others. It’s just a fact. If no one ever says your name, you’re history. You disappear. You never existed.”

Turning the card over and over in her fingers, Willow struggled to make the connection. True enough, but that has nothing to do with—the two things aren’t even related.

When Willow looked up, Buffy was studying her. Slipping the card into her jacket pocket, Willow ignored the unwanted attention by letting her own drift.

“The way you get them talking is pretty simple. Never say you can do something if you aren’t absolutely sure you can pull it off…” The soft timbre of Buffy’s voice provided a backdrop to Willow’s exploration. Though she didn’t move, her interest travelled rapidly from one thing to the next, eager to take it all in. The room wasn’t what she expected at all. It was cozy. A small, finished attic space. The far wall even sloped with the roofline right at the top, adding to the charm.

To her right, a large wooden cabinet sat on the same wall with the door. It was too thin to be wardrobe and it was snug against the wall. Willow figured it was a Murphy bed. Opposite the bed was an alcove with a window. It was covered in heavy blue draperies. Under it, a window seat with a dark blue cushion was built into the nook. I know where this is, but I thought that dormer was just ornamental.

“…never think small and always make them wonder. People are naturally curious. They’ll fill it in for themselves even if they’re clueless,” Buffy concluded and drew silent, allowing Willow time.

So, what she’s saying in the simplest terms is that people assumed and she just let them. That sounds like Buffy.

Willow faced her partner. The room, with its light cream walls, all of the pictures, paintings of flowers and sunny landscapes, the small student desk, the shelves of paperback books, the coffee table with its stack of women’s magazines, the plush, salmon and cream shag carpet, all of these details said the same thing. This was a girl’s bedroom. Average, comfortable and lived in. The only oddness was the Murphy bed, but given the room’s size it was sensible. But her room’s downstairs. Or I thought it was. It was like seeing a side of Buffy that Willow never imagined existed.

You mean, she has this huge house and she lives here? Maybe we’re closer than I thought.

No, there are no clothes, no closet, or dresser. This isn’t where she sleeps. It’s something else.

A sanctuary.

There was one thing that was out of place. Built into the left wall, behind where Buffy sat, was a display case. A light inside it had come on when she flipped the switch. It was large and impressive, like a trophy case. On its glass shelves sat a strange array of items. The one that caught Willow’s eye was a skeletal hand. She was drawn to it. “Y-you, you saved—?” she stuttered.

Buffy stood and walked to the window. Drapes slid open, their metal tracks making a scraping noise, followed by the click of a window latch. “Yeah, I’m a real psychopath. I took trophies from every major kill. Anything bigger than dinner,” she said. Her lighter clicked. The smell of smoke drew closer. She moved Willow aside with a gentle hand and unlocked the cabinet with a second keycard, swinging the doors open.

Willow had to move the lamp and round the couch to get back to where she’d been. Her attention still fixed on the cabinet, she returned to Buffy’s side and asked, “Who’s hand? It doesn’t look quite human.” I really don’t need to ask. She brought me here for a reason. And it’s not just the Fort Knoxy atmosphere. I need to be patient. She’ll fill in the rest.

Stepping away, Willow leaned against back of the couch to wait. It was kind of hot in the little room. She considered removing her coat, but decided it was pointless. She opened it instead. This is just the calm. The real storm has yet to begin. There’s no sense in getting comfortable. She stared at the edge of the cabinet door. It was much thicker than she thought it was. She couldn’t resist commenting. “You don’t do anything by halves, do you?”

“What?” Buffy glanced over her shoulder and got the picture. She smiled and said, “Oh, the case. Yeah. I had it built. It’s sorta like a safe, only not.” Her attention returned to the contents of the case. She started with the hand itself. “The Master. It’s amazing anything survived.” There were rings on three of the fingers of the hand. She went through them, pointing to each one. “The claddagh ring was Angelus. The skull ring was Spike’s. The black onyx ring was Drusilla’s. And of course—” she set the hand aside “—this was my gift from Darla.”

Willow had seen the chain and guessed. It wasn’t that hard to make the connection. She could be a million miles from here. I’d never know the difference. It isn’t surprising.

There’s only one surprise here. Me. It’s like I’ve walked into a shrine.

This is it.

When Buffy lifted it out, the shackle scraped the shelf. She didn’t seem to notice or care that the chain hung precariously.

She’s letting me in.

Gravity took hold, doing its work. The chain snaked off the shelf. Each link produced a ticking rhythm as it flowed over the edge. Buffy clung to the shackle and just let the chain fall. Pooling at her feet, it clattered.

And here, I was worried. This is the final piece of trust.

Willow didn’t know whether to smile or cry. She compromised and did a little of both, wiping the tears as they fell.

It took a moment, but Buffy snapped back to some semblance of normalcy. The chain clattered. She draped it over her arm as she said, “Anyway, I had one of the geeks wire the hand so it’d stay together. The rings are glued on. I thought it was kinda cool…and fitting.” She strode back to the window to dispose of her ash.

Willow picked up a burned piece of plastic to inspect it and asked, “The mayor?”

Returning to Willow’s side, Buffy replied, “Yeah. That was a total bitch to get. The detonator. I had to steal it from the cops. I figured after murdering a hundred or so semi-innocent souls, I should have a keepsake.”

Willow returned the detonator to the space where she found it and asked, “And the skull?” She glanced at Buffy. That’s a human skull. Not a very old one either.

A sardonic smile played at Buffy’s features as she answered, “Some brat Faith killed. Supposed to be her sister. Actually, she was like this mystical Key made by a bunch of religious freaks. I had to save it. The one evil thing Faith ever did. Guess she’s not big on the whole ‘family’ thing.”

Willow snickered. “Yeah, I remember that. Faith was all torn up. Glorificus and her stupid Key. I thought we might actually have to work, but team white hat saved the day.” Moving her attention to the next item on the shelves, she inquired, “And the spine?”

The mood had lightened. Buffy actually laughed. It was weird. She stood, holding that chain and somehow seemed happy. Willow smiled.

Sobering, Buffy gave an account. “Margaret Walsh. I don’t know if you even heard about that one. Dalton caught it pretty early. It was a government thing. Humans playing god. I removed the leader and the whole thing fell apart.” A smile brightened her face. There was nothing sweet about this one. Through a wicked little giggle, she said, “She was surprisingly tasty for someone that old and gross.”

The final item sat away from the others on the top shelf. As Willow stared at the old stuffed toy, Buffy returned to the window. A piece of her past. Something from before all this. Resisting the urge to touch, she asked, “Who’s the pig? He looks totally out of place.”

Her cigarette gone, Buffy returned to Willow’s side. A sigh slipped out. “Mr. Gordo, he was mine when I was a girl. Sort of a reminder of—”

Willow finished the thought. “Your humanity.” She removed Tara’s necklace and placed it at Mr. Gordo’s feet. Symbolic, meet literal.

Offering an abbreviated nod, Buffy looked away.

There was one final detail. Willow was afraid to ask. She said she didn’t know, but she has to have some idea. She’d know the date of the game and when—

Buffy motioned her aside and closed the cabinet. Returning to the couch, she took a seat. The links of the chain rattled in her hands.

Do I really need to know?

Probably not, but—

Moving to face her, Willow watched for a moment while Buffy toyed with the chain, running the links through her fingers. It was hard, but she forced the words. “And the date?” It felt like picking at a scab.

Standing, Buffy moved to the window, lighting another cigarette before she answered. “It was the playoffs, Will.”

But that’s like late November, early December. I mean, I don’t know. Football’s not exactly my thing and Sunnydale’s not in the same division, but it should be—

Before Willow could get any further, Buffy changed the subject. “Look out the window.”

Willow went to the window and peered outside. The sky had lightened ever so slightly. Morning was on its way. There’s about an hour left. It’s now or never.

Well, not exactly ‘never,’ but still.

She tried to figure out what Buffy was after. The red clay tile roof sloped down from the window. It ended about ten feet from where Willow stood. There was a balcony just off to the right below them. Probably Buffy’s. My room doesn’t have one. It occurred to her that Buffy could leave through this window and drop down. It’d be a small matter for her to reach the ground from there.

Buffy touched the small of Willow’s back and pointed at the courtyard tucked behind the balcony. Following Buffy’s gesture, Willow got the gist. “Yeah, it’s a swimming pool.” She shrugged. “Been there. Fucked there, actually. What of it?”

Buffy flicked her ash out the window. “If I put someone in there, can you keep them in?”

Willow grinned. I know that look. Yeah, she’s scheming. “Sure, there’s this great spell. I’ll have to be next to it to—”

Nodding, Buffy cut her off mid-sentence. “Go do it. Don’t let anyone see you and come straight back here.” Somehow, her cigarette was gone again. Willow didn’t remember her throwing it out. Buffy attention was consumed by the chain. She studied it as it passed through her fingers.

It didn’t occur to Willow that Buffy would even notice when she turned to leave. Willow nearly jumped when a hand caught her arm. Buffy turned Willow, taking both of her wrists. The chain draped over her tummy. She wasn’t sure what to think.

Buffy asked, “How long will it last?”

Her gaze was piercing. It made Willow nervous. “Until I break it,” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Will,” Buffy whispered. No clue why I’m apologizing. She’s just so wigged.

Well, here’s a clue. I’m treating her like a minion and she’s definitely not one.

The apology worked its magic, taking the edge off, but Buffy just couldn’t leave well enough alone. This is totally counterproductive, but I’ve gotta do it. There’s just too much riding for me not to. Reaching into her pocket, she took out her keys and placed them in Willow’s hand, folding her fingers closed. There’s this crinkley thing that always happens with her brow when she thinks I’m nuts. It’s kinda cute.

Wiping the grin from her face, Buffy cleared her throat and planted the seeds to pique Willow’s curiosity. “If something happens…” she nodded toward a switch on the alcove wall “…everything you need to know is in this room.” Gesturing Willow aside, Buffy flipped the switch. As the steel plate lowered, sealing the room, she went on. “You’ll be safe here. It’d take me days to get in without a card.”

Not even remotely helpful. But I didn’t think it would be. “What’s my first rule?” she asked, hoping it’d help.

Willow tore her attention from the window. The act looked like it was hard. She replied, “Never boast.”

Buffy stifled a snicker. Yeah, simpled up, I guess that’s it. It’s cool how she does that. She met her witch’s gaze and smiled. “I can do this,” she whispered, “Thing is, it’s just the first step.”

When Willow nodded and looked away, Buffy gently turned her chin. Their eyes met. She looks really worried. “This isn’t a big deal, ’kay?” she whispered, giving Willow a gentle kiss. The tension eased and Buffy let go.

“’Kay,” Willow said and made her way out the door.

Buffy flipped the switch and the thick steel plate retracted into the wall. She sat down on the window seat and lit another cigarette.

It took a few moments, but Willow appeared beside the pool. She dipped her fingers into the water and mumbled a few words. Buffy couldn’t make them out, but they didn’t matter. The job was done. It was her turn now. She flipped her cigarette out the window, slipped her jacket off and hung it on a hook by the door.

“Time to start over,” she muttered and stole out of the room. The chain hung heavy on her arm as she waited for the elevator. She played with the links. They were cool and rough to the touch. I haven’t laid hands on this thing in years. It just sat there as a reminder. The images it conjured and the mood they created were perfect.

The elevator doors slid open and she stepped on. She travelled, uninterrupted, all the way to the ground floor where the doors retracted, revealing a long empty corridor. She was still alone. No surprise. This end of the house is pretty low traffic. The only place of interest to a bunch of male vamps is the rec room. A lot of them blow off most of the evening there if nothing else is on tap.

As she walked past the entrance to the library, Luke emerged through the doorway down the hall that led to the basement. Just the man I need to see. Closing the distance between them, she asked “Did you get the geek?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Luke replied. Forming a steeple with his hands, he tilted his head in a reverent bow.

Buffy went straight for the stairs, pushing past him. “Fucking zealots,” she hissed.

He inquired in a somewhat more timid voice, “Am I to assume the spell…it didn’t go as expected?”

Buffy swung around. The huge vampire hung his head. “You could say that,” she snarled, watching with satisfaction as the large man winced. “Get the boys out by the pool. I want a word,” she said and started down the stairs, calling back. “Meet me at the front door. You’ve got ten minutes. Oh, and Luke, never call me ‘Mistress’ again.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he muttered.

Buffy shook her head, growling, “I take it back. The boy makes Lyle Gorch look like a fucking brain surgeon,” as she bounded down the stairs. At the bottom, she scanned the first cell, spotting Dalton, who was cowering in its corner. Moving to the cell door, she whispered, “Lighten up, Dalton.” She reached a hand through the bars. “Come here.”

The skinny little guy was shaking so hard his glasses were barely staying on. But she had to give him credit. He did exactly what she asked. Afraid he might pass out, she withdrew her arm.

Dalton couldn’t look up. “J-just make it quick, Miss,” he sputtered.

Buffy hissed, causing the bookish vampire to jump and her to laugh. “Timid thing. I’d sorta forgotten. It’s cool. Look, I’ve got a little deal for you,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Y-yes, Miss?” Dalton replied.

Smiling, Buffy said in the same hushed voice, “All the books and all the blood you want. You just gotta do two things.”

Dalton managed to look up. It was a bold move. Buffy could tell it hurt. He scanned her face. Give it up. Remember who you’re dealing with. If I was lying, you’d never know it.

“Yes, Miss?”

Buffy took a step back and crossed her arms. The chain clattered as it folded between them. The act’s good. He’s survived on it for lots longer than I’ve been alive. It’s one of his best tricks. The other is being useful.

And that all pretty much amounts to nothing.

Truth is, if he could, he’d take my head off. He can’t, so it’s a non-issue.

The bottom line is, I don’t trust him. Scrawny little geek just knows too fucking much. And on a scale of good to evil, he rates a solid despicable.

Quiet and firm, Buffy laid down the rules. “You’ll never set foot outside this cell again. And you’ll never talk to anyone else but me. Either thing happens and the deal’s off. ’Kay?”

Dalton nodded, making eye contact. “Y-yes, Miss. T-thank you, Miss,” he stuttered sheepishly.

Buffy confirmed, “’Kay, just sit tight. I’ll get your stuff later.” He shuddered and shied away when she approached. Pushing the bookish vampire’s glasses back up his nose, she turned and strutted up the stairs.

As Buffy strolled through the mansion, she looked as though she hadn’t a care in the world. I’m really looking forward to this. Best therapy I know.

The hallway let out into a common area. Clusters of comfortable furniture were grouped around the room. Buffy hated this room. It looks like an upscale waiting room to me. But the decorator assured me it was the thing to do with the space. I guess with the fireplaces…

Whatever. It’s good to be home. Such as it is.

Her pace quickened. Following the traffic pattern, she moved past the couches, tables and chairs, through the archway, into the main hall. This room was really too grand for furniture. There wasn’t much. Anything added would’ve just been dwarfed. I should’ve just had him meet me here. This is a great place to spar. Yeah, uh…nah, the maids would hate me. More than they already do.

Now there’s a stretch.

As she pushed her way through the double entry doors, the chain clattered against the glossy finished oak. Luke was standing beside the Trans Am with his arms folded. Eh…Christ. If he dents my car…

Yeah, whatever…I’m already gonna kill him. Just somewhere, not here.

Buffy cast a glare and walked right by him, around the circular driveway to the other side. Of course, he followed. It’d be above average stupid for him not to. She let the chain drop, twirling it as she turned. Luke was eyeing her suspiciously. He may be catching up. Like I care.

As she paced a lap around the hulking vampire, he asked, “What happened?”

Now that’s the question of the moment, isn’t it?

“Team goodie-two-shoes rushed in to save the day,” Buffy grumbled. And that’s almost the truth.

It was funny, an answer, regardless how lame, seemed to set her prey at ease. Luke still followed her with his eyes, turning as she moved, but his posture relaxed just a touch. He grumbled, “They couldn’t have possibly—”

Buffy shrugged and faced him. Her eyes narrowed. “Well, they did,” she muttered.

Luke grew openly hostile. It was really out of character for him. Buffy held back a smile when he countered, “I warned you that entertaining that band of—”

Speaking over him, Buffy cut in. “Look, Luke, I get that it’s hard. I look into your eyes sometimes and I can almost see it…” the smile took hold “…a spark in that great gaping chasm between your ears.” That did it. He’s pissed. It made Buffy giggle. Her tone was smooth and silky, completely unflustered when she dropped the bomb. “You look like you need help. Let me simple this up for you. The only slayer you need to worry about is the one right here.”

Her words took a sec to sink in, but when they did, it was entertaining. Luke was just too big to be fast. He fought like a brawler, relying on powerful blows to wreck his prey. He lunged and she skipped sideways. His meaty fist missed by a mile. The swing nearly landed him on his face. I could dance around him all morning, laughing my ass off. He’d never lay a hand on me.

What I’d do to him is an entirely different matter. One in need of minor negotiation.

Course, there’s the encroaching dawn to consider.

It took Luke a sec to recover. As he did, Buffy slipped behind him. It always went this way when we sparred. I was just faster. Now, the diff’s pathetic.

Cracking the chain like a whip, she lashed out. It winged past his head. I could’ve killed him with that. She jerked, causing the chain to flow in an arc. But I think poor Luke deserves a parting gift. He was just quick enough to get his hand between the chain and his throat before she caught it and pulled it tight. A little something to entertain him on the road to Hell.

Buffy tugged and he toppled backwards. She kicked, spinning him as he fell. Luke landed on his face. His right hand was still trapped by the chain. Beautiful. I couldn’t ask for better.

Pouncing on the small of his back, Buffy jerked the chain tight. Cracking issued from his throat. His wail came out as sort of a disgusting, burbling sound.

Buffy dropped the chain. In the instant it took him to react, she landed three blows. The first two struck his shoulders, snapping them. The next was an open palm to the back of his head. It made a sick splintering noise. Guess I’ll be the only one talking. No loss. It’s really better that way.

Putting a little distance between them, Buffy leapt up. As Luke floundered, she said, “Y’know, now that I think about it, that wasn’t the real problem.” A smirk twisted her features. She looked positively evil. What’s worse, she knew it. Me having fun always means broken bones. Theirs, not mine. Strange how little a soul changes the basics. Time to clue him up.

Blood pooled on the driveway under Luke’s face. His flailing was making a mess. He managed to kick himself over. Teeth and pieces of bone lay in the gore. I thought vamps looked bad enough already. All bumpy faced and fangy. Definitely not runway material. But that’s just gross.

Starting another lap around him, Buffy said, “The real rub came when my own team betrayed me.” She paused to crush his left hip with her foot. He tried to scream again. It was pitiful. He doubled up and flopped back. “It was Will’s little fuck buddy,” she said and moved on.

His left knee came next. Buffy turned it to pulp as she asked, “How long’s it been since you lost a fight, Luke?” She paced around him to his other knee before she commented, “Oh, that’s right. You can’t really talk. Sorry.” She stomped his knee and filled in. “Mid eighteen-hundreds Madrid? You were sleeping, right?” She pulverized his other hip. “This is such a good story. I really wish you could tell it one last time.”

It’s weird to see him tremble. We’ve been working together for seven years. I’ve seen him get lots of things, but scared was never one of them.

Hopping on top of him, Buffy punched his ribs. He flailed, but she held on. When he fell still, she whispered, “As I recall, it was some pathetic human. A creature afflicted with a soul.”

Luke stared up at her from behind the gruesome mess. He wants to speak. Maybe beg. That’d be rich. I’m having second thoughts about his throat.

Buffy seized the sides of his head and pulled. “Looks like you’re oh for two. Same sitch. The vengeance demon cursed me. She did the one thing she knew would really fuck me up. Betcha can’t guess what that is.”

His neck cracked. His corded muscles stretched like bands of elastic tearing free.

Buffy whispered, “The real bitch of it is, even with a soul, I’m still bad.”

Cinders and ash swirled around her.

Ugh…I need a bath.

Willow stepped off the elevator. All that drama. And yeah, I’m curious, but…I can’t help thinking she handed me the damned keys so I’d remember the blood.

Gripes me to no end…

Nah…Buffy’s just not that plany. Not with the small stuff.

Whatever, I was a good little minion. It’s in the fridge.

As she moved to the place where the door had been, her coat brushed the paneling. The sound of steel sliding inside the wall caused her to halt. A door swung in, but it wasn’t the same door. It was centered on the wall across from the elevator. “That’s the wrong wall,” she mumbled.

Shaking her head, Willow pushed the door in. Stating the obvious…not exactly a mark of brilliance.

I don’t have much time. There was no way I’m gonna miss that fight. I need to know that Buffy’s safe. More importantly, I need to be there in case she isn’t.

Poking her nose in the room, Willow assessed what was inside. Hung on the wall to her left was a large, panoramic, plasma display. It was dark, asleep or off. There was a desk in front of it with a keyboard and mouse. Huh. A computer? Well, I don’t see the CPU, but that doesn’t mean much.

Since when does Buffy like computers?

Since when does Buffy even know what a computer is?

It looks like one hell of a game machine. When did she start playing games?

Oh! It could be an A.V. rig. But why would she need that? Somehow, I just can’t see Buffy doing video editing.

Whatever, I’ll have to come back.

When Willow moved away, the door sealed shut. She walked to the middle of the back wall and the door to Buffy’s room opened. It bugged her that there was another room. Is there a third?

No, that’s impossible. The back of the elevator shaft’s against the outside wall of the house. There’s nothing on that other wall. Or if there is, it’s a doorway leading to one doozy of a drop.

She took off her coat and hung it next to Buffy’s. The window was open again. Willow crossed the room and sat on the window seat to watch.

The vampires were so far away they looked really tiny. It gave Willow the impression she was watching a game from the nosebleed seats. At least this is comfier.

She took a quick inventory. Huh, twenty-three…no, twenty-four on one. Well, this should be fun. I hope she’s okay.

She will be. I can’t move like her. And I’m strong, lots stronger than I was, but not nearly as strong.

Buffy must be there ’cause they all turned. The balcony’s in the way. I can’t see her.

“Guys, I get that it’s a bitch…” The voice carried through the dank morning air. It was faint, but decidedly feminine.

Yeah, that’d be Buffy. Unless one of the ‘boys’ started hormone therapy. Or Candy Gorch decided to take her ‘no account’ husband back.

Doubtful.

Willow missed the next little bit of the speech. It doesn’t so much matter. Knowing Buffy, it’s all snark and bullshit.

“The hours are lousy. There’s no real pension plan, no major medical, no unemployment and you don’t so much get to retire.”

Well, she had their attention, but I think a few of them went to sleep.

“I have a plan to improve this.”

Willow could just see Buffy’s head when she stepped forward.

“You’re all fired.” Before the word ‘fired’ even left Buffy’s mouth, the poolside erupted in a fur ball of movement.

It didn’t take Willow long to feel foolish for worrying. Maybe two seconds. That’s about when the first dust cloud appeared. Vamps splashed into the pool. Others charged or fled. It was mass chaos.

When more clouds of ash scattered over the pool, Willow caught a detail she’d missed. A head went bouncing off to the side like a fumbled ball. As it rolled, it turned to cinder and broke apart. Oh, that’s just disgusting.

Well, what do I expect? She never used a stake before. She doesn’t like ’em. Too slayery for her.

In no way is this a—

Taking three steps, Buffy leapt.

Willow inhaled. Time seemed to hang.

And so did the little blonde who’d just vaulted over the pool like an idiot. Willow thought for sure she was going to have to intervene. Ending that spell would be—

The tip of Buffy’s boot touched down. It looked from Willow’s angle like it just met the lip of the pool. She expected Buffy to slip, splat and splash.

Well, I don’t even want to think about it.

Pushing off, Buffy sprung forward and rolled. After turning one neat summersault, she was on her feet running. She disappeared down the hill behind the pool.

Why’d you have to do that? It was going so well and you just had to show off. Giving your witch a heart attack is bad! Especially, when she’s dead and a vamp and…

And.

Well, not really so much—

Whatever!

Brat!

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Evil, rotten, nasty little brat! I should turn you over my knee!

The cussing had just about petered out when one of the Gorch brother’s hats popped up over the rise. His hands were raised. He was headed straight for the pool, backing away from some unseen menace. No clue what happened to the other one. There’s probably not enough left of him to fill an ashtray. No loss. Hell, I can’t even keep them straight. Which one’s the fat one, Lyle or Tector? I barely remembered the cute ones. Vamps just aren’t my thing.

Except one…and boy, does she look pissed.

Buffy herded the fat one, whoever he was, right into the pool.

Willow snickered when he did that funny cartoon thing. His arms twirled for a ridiculous amount of time before he wobbled and splooshed.

Buffy didn’t help him at all. She was back at it before his hat bobbed on the surface of the pool. The other vamps had clustered on the far end of the pool. It’s funny that they just let Lyle or Tector or whoever back into the pool. They stood out of the way and watched it happen. No love lost there.

No real surprise. The Gorch brothers were dorks. The big surprise is that they lasted as long as they did.

Now that was over, things changed. The other vamps were trying to work together. They circled Buffy, attempting to drive her into the pool. Their leader had found a shovel and was brandishing it. How does one just find a shovel? We don’t leave shovels lying around, do we? I really need to have a talk with the groundskeeper, ’cause that’s just dangerous. I tripped over a shovel once and skinned my knee. It hurt.

Buffy has a chain. He has a shovel. Oops. Now she has a chain and a shovel. Uh-oh…

Ash filled the air, dusting the surface of the pool. See, I knew that was dangerous!

Course, we are talking about Buffy. She could probably make a feather dangerous. With something that sharp and pointy, it’s a no brainer.

Buffy chucked the shovel into the pool. She must not like them either. I don’t blame her. They’re either dangerous or just plain work. Neither one is fun.

It didn’t matter that Buffy was woefully outnumbered. Willow gave up trying to watch her move. It was pointless. The others were mad and acting stupid. They made the mistake of coming to her which put them on the deep end of the pool. All she has to do is knock them off balance and ‘plop.’ Once they’re fully submerged, it’s game over. On the shallow end, they might’ve stood a chance.

Not so much now.

The shallow end of the pool was just plain weird looking. The surface bowed like a rubber sheet, forming impossible curves as the vampires struggled to break free. It looked a lot like that slimy stuff the kids all played with when she was little. That stuff was icky. It left this nasty, slippery residue on your hands. Then it’d get sticky. Xander used to throw pieces of it at me ’cause he knew I hated it.

Willow took her cheek in hand. She tried to refrain from humming the Alka Seltzer song. Just like the boys, she lost the battle. But there’s no fizz. That’s just no fun. I should’ve made it fizz.

Thankfully, none of this lasted long or she might’ve fallen asleep.

The last body hit the pool and Buffy caught Willow’s attention. She smiled and dipped into a low graceful bow. Willow returned the smile.

It was getting really light outside. She was glad when Buffy disappeared in a blink.

I’ve got about five minutes. That should be enough.

Grabbing her card, Willow rushed to solve the mystery of the new room. It didn’t take that long for her to regret her decision. The application she found running on the PC was a security program. She clicked on the arrow and a combo box menu opened. Every room in the house was listed, except for Buffy’s and this one.

She selected the item called ‘Willow’ and her room came into view. There was another combo box to change camera angles, six in all. Not even her bathroom was sacred.

Boy, she really didn’t trust me.

Willow clamped her mouth shut. Her teeth gritted. She minimized the application. There was a folder on the desktop called ‘stuff.’ She needed to see what was in it. As she suspected, it was full of AVI files, labeled by date. She browsed through them until one caught her eye. When she double clicked, her stomach turned flip flops.

On the big screen, she stood facing the room. Tara’s back was to the camera. Willow reached out and ripped her dress open. “You’ve been a very naughty girl.” Hearing her own voice made her cringe. Sound too? Ugh…

This was the night before the ritual. Tara had been naughty. Extremely naughty. We were under explicit instructions to keep it low key. Buffy didn’t want anything to interrupt her fun.

So what’s Tara do? She goes out and grants a wish to some college student, turns the girl into a fyarl demon and sets her lose. I was all day cleaning up that mess.

The image quality was amazing for a hidden camera. Tara stood naked now, with her back in full view of the camera. The contract written on her skin was perfectly legible. Willow wondered if Buffy had taken the time to translate the ancient Sanskrit. Just how much does she actually know?

Watching herself was more than a little disturbing. That didn’t keep her body from flushing with the memory as she saw it play out. It was like an amateur porno, only better. Most people that do that are ugly. There was nothing ugly about Tara. It was exactly what Willow didn’t need.

She grabbed Tara by the collar and yanked her over to the desk, shoving her forward. Tara caught the edge of the desk in her hands and pushed her bottom out. Her full breasts jiggled. She looked like she was having fun. Her excitement ended when she saw the objects in front of her. Her lower back arched. She tried to tuck her bottom in. I was pissed. I picked everything she really hated.

On the monitor, Willow seized Tara by the hips and raised her ass. Grabbing a weight off the desk, Willow kicked Tara’s feet apart and reached between her legs.

Willow remembered how Tara’s clit had stretched when she clipped the heavy weight to her piercing. Tara groaned. The sound filled the room. It had to hurt, but she acted like it felt good.

The feelings of violation and intrusion only made Willow that much hornier. Buffy watched this. I wonder what she thought. I wonder if she even got what half that stuff is. I guess she figured it out by the end of the video. There are probably others too. Odds are, Buffy knows as much about this kink as I do.

Willow realized that she was breathing hard. Well, that’s stupid. She made herself stop. I should turn this off. It’s already been too long. Buffy’s probably wondering what happened.

As she watched herself spank Tara on the large screen, she struggled with the desire to touch. It was horrible. Tara’s ass was bright red. The demon begged for mercy. She didn’t use the safe word. Not till later. This was just part of the game. I made her use it. I fucked her until she begged.

Willow closed the video. Okay, that’s enough of that. My life’s already screwed up enough. The last thing I need to do is watch myself fist fuck my dead slave while my undead Mistress waits for me in the next room.

Debating for a moment, she decided not to delete the file. I really, really want to, but I shouldn’t. It’s not mine. My guess, Buffy and I are gonna have a long talk really soon. Like probably now.

Boy, won’t that be fun?

Willow put everything back exactly the way she’d found it before she left the room. When she entered the other room, Buffy had her feet up on the coffee table and a Cosmo in her lap. Without looking up, she grumbled, “Don’t even think it.”

If there had been a small, dark hole to climb into, Willow would’ve been there, folding herself into a tight little ball. But there wasn’t. The only retreat was the window seat and she took it. The only problem was that it was really getting light now. So, she leaned against the wall, clinging to the shadows.

The pool churned, venting through the grates in the stone walkway beside it. Part of her wanted to enjoy the show, but Buffy’s words still hung in the air. Willow had to explain. How do I even begin?

At the beginning. It’s tradition. And it’s only fair. She’s shared so much with me. I’ve asked questions and she’s answered them all. What have I given her?

“Do you remember when Amy got mixed up with Rack?” Willow asked.

Willow jumped when Buffy replied, “Uh-huh,” from right behind her.

Willow hadn’t heard her move at all. Buffy wrapped her arms around Willow’s waist. She looked down at the hands on her tummy. It was nice. When Buffy rested her chin on Willow’s shoulder, she whispered, “Let the spell be ended.”

As the magical barrier shimmered and vanished, a massive cloud of steam billowed from the pool. Underneath the steam, silver water boiled.

Appreciating the beauty in the moment, Willow said, “Pretty.” The mist wafted up. Caught in the gentle air current, it drifted away.

Buffy echoed, “Pretty much a mess.” She snickered. “But, yeah…very cool.” Reaching over, she flipped the switch. As the steel barrier slid closed, she turned Willow to face her. “Now what were you going to tell me?” Buffy whispered.

Willow couldn’t bring herself to meet Buffy’s eyes. “It’s just…”

Taking Willow’s chin, Buffy tried to force the point, but Willow shied away. Buffy gave up and said, “Look, Will, I don’t care who you fuck or how, so long as you don’t expect that from me.”

Pulling away, Willow stomped to the door and spat, “It doesn’t work that way!” She doesn’t understand at all. She thinks I want that!

Well, I did. But I didn’t. It was fun. Tara made a great puppy. But it wasn’t—

There wasn’t—

Willow let out a harrumph and folded her arms. Torn between storming out of the room and spinning around to yell, she stared at the fake wooden door. It’d serve her right. But would she really care?

Probably not.

Thing is, neither thing’s useful. She may care if I can make her understand.

Buffy passed behind her, but didn’t stop. The chain rattled when she lifted it from the coffee table.

It didn’t really matter what Buffy was doing. Willow spoke her mind. “You never answered me.”

“What? You mean that shit with Amy?” Buffy replied.

The chain clattered against the glass shelf. Willow understood she was putting it away. Huh, it’s over. “Guess we’ve got the house to ourselves now,” she mumbled. Woo and hoo.

Why’d I even say that?

Buffy said, “Yeah, all except for the rodent in the basement,” as she closed the cabinet doors.

“What rodent?” Willow asked, cursing herself for playing into the distraction.

“I kept one employee. The only useful one of the entire bunch.” As Buffy filled in the news, Willow walked over to the desk and took a seat.

She doesn’t care. Why should I?

Buffy was seated on the couch with her feet on the coffee table when Willow glanced up. Curious, she asked, “Dalton?”

Because I do. And why shouldn’t I?

Buffy nodded, intoning, “Uh-huh.”

Focusing on her hands, Willow remarked, “That ‘shit with Amy’ as you put it wasn’t fun.” She doesn’t get to slough this off. I need her to understand. It’s important that she does. She may not get that, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

It didn’t surprise Willow at all that Buffy simply ticked off the facts, dry and cold. “It was necessary. Amy was getting too powerful. And there’s no guarantee she wouldn’t have gone rogue. If she’d come over to our side, it would’ve thrown everything off balance. I didn’t need another witch.”

You were having trouble controlling the one you had. Simple, fill in the blank. She won’t say it, but we both know how it was.

It would’ve been fine if Rack had just listened. Go figure, the misogynist prick didn’t hear a word I said. He was too busy trying to get in my pants. When Amy returned, it was business as usual.

So, Rack became a non-issue.

“I agree,” Willow replied. “I agreed with you then. But you need to see that it complicated things for me.” She combed her fingers through her hair. “Vengeance demons spend their entire lives, sometimes thousands of years, in subservience to humanity. It’s only natural that some of them would take that role literally. Like the genie in the bottle, only with more—”

Buffy chimed in, “Really? You mean like Aladdin?”

The comment was cute and innocent. Willow grinned. Really, it was a total mind fuck. She snapped to the image from the video, mentally replacing herself and Tara. The big blue guy with the thick chin bent over the desk while the little guy with the funny hat spanked him. Robin Williams’ voice rang out, begging for mercy. She wasn’t sure whether to giggle or shudder in horror.

Recovering from the minor meltdown, she looked up. Buffy was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Okay, that’s just about enough Disney for one psychotic break. I’m cutting you off, Missy.

Willow started, “You did catch the—?” deciding it was pointless. Y’know what? Have it your way. “Yeah, sorta like that,” she placated. “Those legends come from somewhere.”

Buffy arched an eyebrow. Vixen knows exactly what she’s doing. I’m not buying the innocent act for a second.

Umm…

Whatever. Back to my point. I had a point, didn’t I?

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Willow soldiered on. “Anyway, vengeance demons sometimes bind themselves to other evil beings. To do that, they have to serve two masters, but the wish always takes precedence.” And that’s what happened. That’s why it all fell apart. Tara was doing her job. I was doing mine. The timing was just awful. We were both serving different masters.

Visions of painting the contract on Tara’s back filled her mind. Remembering how she’d set the ink with a spell, sealing the pact, Willow explained, “Tara belonged to Rack. When I killed him, I became her Mistress. I didn’t have a choice. She was magically bound to me as slave.” She sniffed and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Well, I could’ve broken the spell, but there’s no telling what she might’ve done. The smart thing—” Instead, I made it stronger. It was the right thing to do. Tara was an amazing tool.

Buffy was firming up. She asked, “So, you killed her because—?”

“I didn’t have a choice. I was bound to her for life.” Willow filled in the blank.

Understanding in her eyes, Buffy cast Willow a glance and stood up, making her way to the window. As Buffy shut the drapes, Willow explained, “Vengeance demons start off human. People with really crappy pasts. They have to do something big to get D’Hoffryn’s attention.”

Time was running out. Buffy was preparing to leave.

“Did you know that he was interested in me?” Willow asked. This struck a nerve. Buffy turned. Willow had her full attention when she went on. “I declined. Unlike Tara, I couldn’t serve two masters.” She paused to let that sink in. “I could no more—”

Buffy said, “I get it.”

But it didn’t matter. Willow kept going. “Talk about your icky role reversal games.”

Vying for attention, Buffy spoke out of turn, “Will, I get it.” Her voice sounded over Willow’s. The discussion was over. Buffy walked out the door, calling back, “I’m gonna grab a shower.”

All material derived from pop culture at large is the property of its respective owner. No copyright infringement is intended. Please read the disclaimer.