Bloodletting

Sweat

Muffled by layers of plaster and timber, Willow cried out, “Oh God!” The dead little witch followed up with something that might’ve been ‘please.’ She was panting so hard, it was difficult to tell.

Well, alright, B.

At least someone in this hell is getting lucky. It sure ain’t me. Figures it’d be her. Luck and me…we’re not exactly—

Another cry broke the silence. “No!” This one was so loud that even Amy perked up.

Faith shut her eyes, remembering. An attractive, older woman with long dark-hair got into a taxi. She was dressed for a night on the town. It was one of those memories. So vivid, Faith could almost reach out and touch her. So seemingly harmless, if she could show the image to anyone else, they’d just look at it and shrug. They might think she was pretty. People always thought that.

The woman glanced over her shoulder, out the back window of the car. It felt like she knew. She had to have one last look.

What a waste.

How many times did I hear that growing up? She even sounds like my mother. Déjà vu’s a killer.

Faith mumbled, “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I remember.” Mom was ‘oh so in love’ too. Trouble is, she had this thing for the kinda guy who’d jack you up on smack and sell you to his friends.

The call came a few days later. Things were pretty much fucked by then.

It took Faith by surprise when Amy rolled over and asked, “What?”

Sighing, Faith turned her head. The room was dark, but she could just make out Amy’s face. The witch was genuinely curious. And I’m genuinely screwed.

As Faith stalled for time, trying to figure a way out, Amy’s curiosity gave way to downright crankiness. Yeah, this is gonna be one of those…

Let me tell you how I feel about my mother.

Rolling her eyes, Faith grumbled, “Love.” The word came out like a curse. I need to get a grip. She cleared her throat to take the edge off. “My way’s better,” she whispered.

“What way is that?” Amy asked.

Jeez. Just gimme a blindfold and a smoke…it’d be easier.

Faith went back to staring at the ceiling. It was a fair bet that Amy wouldn’t like what she had to say, but Faith doomed herself anyway. “Love’s a bitch.” She imagined the expression on Amy’s face and snickered. “Anything over the thirty seconds it takes to show the trick du jour the door is more commitment than I need.”

It stumped her why Amy laughed, but Faith didn’t react. The laugh died, giving way to disappointment. “That’s just like you, Faith,” Amy whispered.

Totally losing it, Faith blurted out, “Of course it’s like me. It is me.” She took a breath, stalling to try and find her cool. It was useless. Complete fucking waste. Just like me. “Look Amy, you may need something else, but I don’t know how to be anything else.” She pulled her hands from under the blanket and rubbed her eyes. “If I’m such a letdown, maybe you should find someone who isn’t.” I don’t know what she expects. She goes on about love. But that sounded like rape. Maybe I’m missing—

“No,” Amy replied. “I’m not letting you off that easy.” The bed shuddered as she sat up and turned.

Of course you aren’t.

Faith shut her eyes, waiting for the shit to hit the fan.

Maybe I should take the hint and get gone. It’ll be easier on both of us.

When she started to rise, Faith got a hand in the center of her chest and a lecture for her trouble. “You make it sound like you think that anyone who makes a commitment to someone else is stupid. Yet you’re obviously committed to me, Jonathan, Giles…not to mention every warm blooded—”

Faith managed to force a word in edge-wise, “That’s not the same,” but not without raising her voice.

Another mocking laugh made her seriously entertain violence. And the impulse only got worse with the examination that followed. I feel like a fuckin’ bug.

“Unbelievable,” Amy exclaimed, causing Faith to jump. “You’re scared. Something about this really struck a nerve.”

Faith clenched her fists, choking back the urge to shout. I’ve got nothing. She nailed it.

Shit! See whatcha get for letting someone in?

I’ve got no problem with the screaming and yelling. It can be good to let loose. But seriously…does it need to get more personal than crass comments about your rival’s heritage?

Before she could manage the traditional ‘fuck you’ and storm from the room routine, Amy said, “You’re condemning something you don’t even understand.”

“Christ! We’ve been at this all night!” Faith snapped. “Every time I feel like I might get some peace…” She trailed off in frustration.

Pushing the hand away, Faith sat up and turned to glare at Amy. Of course, the glare had no effect. Amy just knew her too well. Impervious to the threat, she went on. “Willow and I talked. She asked me for help. Here’s some irony for you…” Her tone was so neutral it was infuriating. And the dramatic pause, though it was brief, sure didn’t help. Faith was coiled and ready to spring out of bed when she continued. “They’ve started to dig out—made some real progress—and the instrument of change is also the one thing that could tear it all down. Whistler told Willow that loving Buffy could cost her her soul.”

You’ve gotta be kidding me? More drama from Camp Vamp? That’s just what we need.

Not even close to kidding, Amy continued to explain, “She’s terrified. She didn’t say that, but it was easy enough to see.”

Faith wanted to dismiss the entire thing as utter bullshit. She didn’t get a chance.

Amy said, “She asked me to help not just to save her soul…” her expression turned thoughtful “…she needs to understand how it works because she wants to ensoul them all.”

The wind went right out of Faith’s sails, leaving her unsure what to think. “All?” she stammered.

How shitty is that? God. Hate to say it, but B. and I have a pretty similar opinion.

So, God really is just a sadistic bastard. That’s precious.

Feeling screwed by circumstance and every other damned thing, she let out a hiss. It amounted to more of a tisk or a tut. A verbal tick that, while meaningless, pretty much summed things up.

Christ.

I’m actually buying this.

“All,” Amy confirmed. “If anyone can, it’s her. She made them.”

The tension between them trickled away. This is good news. It’s really messed up I can think that. Probably more messed up than—

Alright, fuck it. They get a chance. Just one. They screw up, it’s over.

Boy, now there’s the understatement of a lifetime.

Combing her hair back with her hand, Amy clenched her fist. It didn’t look quite painful. Almost, but not quite. She held her bangs at the crown of her head as she spoke. “She’s got Dalton looking at reversing the spell, but that seems pretty unlikely. Magic just doesn’t work that way. You don’t get a do-over when you screw up.” She let her hair fall. “You get consequences.”

There was something kind of manic about the smile that warmed Amy’s face. It didn’t fit that last thing. But as she explained, the smile made sense. “Consider the consequences for just a sec. You said twenty-five, maybe thirty. Imagine what that could mean for us if we can imbue them all with human souls.”

It’d mean we have a real chance provided we could get them to toe the line. That last part’s always the problem. Minor details.

Amy gave her a few minutes slack and Faith lay back down. The bed felt good, but what Amy said next sure as hell didn’t. “Now let’s get back to you.” It was cringe-worthy. And the fact that she remained sitting…

Faith shook her head and offered the best defense she had. “I managed to find something here I was pretty sure I’d never have. It doesn’t matter what happens. I can’t risk that.”

“Y’know, it’s funny, you’ve got this serious beef with Buffy,” Amy said, letting out another anemic snicker. “Trust me, I get it. But it’s pretty sad when a vampire shows more courage…” she stood up “…and more heart than the god damned slayer.”

Faith shut her eyes. That depends on how you define courage. In my book, going up against something when you just can’t win isn’t courage. Choosing that, if you have options…

She can say what she wants. I’m done.

Amy moved away from the bed. The closet door opened. When she emerged, the sermon continued along with the movement. “I get that you’ve been burned, but you seriously need to get over it.” She took a seat on the couch and shook out what could only be a blanket. “It’s a shame really. You close yourself off like that, who knows what you could miss.”

Putting her hand to her stomach, Faith pushed her shirt up to caress her scar. It felt strange, distant and prickly, all of the things it hadn’t felt when Amy touched it.

First impression: something’s missing.

I think it might be my mind.

Buffy hadn’t moved an inch since she went to sleep. Now there was this gaping hole. The weight on her shoulder was gone. Her arms felt empty.

We’re on the fourth night of this demented little social experiment. I wake up alone and—no slack—immediately start pining.

When did this bed get so big?

She cracked her eyes and looked around the room. Bright sunlight filtered in through the breaks in the drapes.

Clueless.

It’s not like it’s been a year, a month or even a week. And lest we forget how much fun this wasn’t…the first of those nights I would’ve given almost anything to be somewhere else.

She inhaled a slow, deep breath. A faint hint of Willow permeated the air. The breath came out as a sigh. She hasn’t been gone that long.

I can’t get over the change. Huge admissions, revelations—or whatever that was—aside…I still don’t understand what she sees in me. I don’t get why this is happening.

That still doesn’t matter one bit. It’s meaningless. I’m just glad it is.

Really, I should drag me and my broken brain out of bed and face the world. Doing something useful’s a solid plan. Besides, she’s gone and it’s not like I’m gonna catch a catnap without her.

There was a fantasy there. A lazy afternoon spent just laying in the sunshine. Someday. Maybe one day soon. Buffy wasted another moment or two indulging the dream before she rolled out of bed and looked down. What she saw was pretty much the usual nightmare. At least it was a less colorful nightmare.

Shrugging, she hauled her sorry ass off to the shower. There wasn’t much sense in wasting time on it. She just wanted to get rid of the sticky. Quickly rinsing, she toweled dry and got dressed.

Today’s gonna be fun. I just know it.

With any luck, some of the drama’s worn off. Might be nice ’cause I’m not sure how much more of that I can handle.

A simple guess and a quick elevator ride landed her in the library. Buffy silently surveyed the scene before she asked, “How goes the plight?”

Willow was buried behind piles of books at the central table. She half-stood to look around them and grumbled, “Lousy.”

It hasn’t been long enough for ‘lousy,’ has it?

Nah. I bet she’s only up to ‘bleh’ and milking sympathy.

“That good?” Buffy teased. A sunny smile brightened her face. “I’ve got faith. You’ll have it by sundown.” Grumpy or not, didn’t matter. Seeing Willow gave her a case of the flutters. A breath caught in Buffy’s throat.

Yeah…so much for that theory. Just stamp me ‘smitten.’ We’ll process the shock and move on.

Maybe.

Could take a while.

Willow replied, “Yeah, I’m sure,” sounding lots less than sure. The talking stacks of books were funny. Buffy leaned against a shelf, listening to them ramble with a big, silly grin on her face. “There’s only one teensy hitch, everything I’ve read tells me it’s impossible. No big. We get past that and it’ll be warm brackish goodness.”

I couldn’t have better timing with the smit. Here, I seriously need to have my head in the game. And what am I doing? Fawning like some lovesick kid.

I just can’t shake that feeling. It was amazing. Strange, I kinda get the addiction now. Even with the bad.

But the ‘bad’ wasn’t really bad. She loves me. What’s bad about that?

Well, other than that it’s totally distracting.

Guess it’s time to help…

Or try.

Buffy offered a reassuring, “Well, we know for a fact that’s not the case,” as she crossed the room. After lingering for a sec to give a sympathetic smile, she came to rest against the table, on the Willow side of the leaning tower of research.

The smile was ineffectual. It didn’t even put a dent in the rant. “It’d be helpful if there was something, but there’s just nothing. Researching nothing isn’t exactly helpful.” Truly vexed, Willow asked, “Do you get how rare ensouled vampires are?”

Bracing herself, Buffy parroted the expected question, “How rare are they, Will?” Uh-boy. I’ve seen that look. If I laugh, I’m done. She bit her lip. Knock, knock…

Willow replied, “Well, umm…rare.” Her attention drifted. She stared at the book. “Y’know, really damned rare. Like only a couple of vague accounts in hundreds of years…rare.”

It blows me away how she does this without stopping to catch her breath.

“It’d be tough enough if I was just working on my problem. But I’m not. I’m trying to understand the principles. It’s like mixing oil and water or maybe bleach and ammonia. Anyway, it’s not very mixy or shouldn’t be mixy. It’s a real pain in the ass! And there’s nothing in this stupid book!” Willow slammed the book closed. “At least nothing useful. Useless book!”

Poor book.

Oh well, at least it wasn’t me.

There was a question there. It hung, waiting to be asked. But Buffy was no stupid girl. She bided her time, waiting for the musty paper induced tantrum to pass. This one was way ahead of schedule. She normally doesn’t go ballistic until at least day two.

It’s okay. I get it. Webster’s totally shaky too on what a soul is. You have to wade into some pretty mucky waters to even get close. I don’t envy her trying to make sense of that crap.

She moved behind Willow. After a tentative touch to be certain it was okay, Buffy rubbed her partner’s shoulders. Silence was fine. There was time. At least a little. She worked to relieve some of the pent-up stress. Finally, she leaned in to give Willow a tender kiss on the neck. Using the opportunity to snag her coffee cup, Buffy stole a sip.

When Willow gave her a groggy, grumpy sideways glance, Buffy set the coffee cup down. ’Kay…bad idea… “So, what else are you working on, Will?” she asked and went back to leaning against the table.

All the good she’d done just kinda went ‘poof.’ The creases came back, the pout, the fidgets…

“I didn’t tell you?” Willow exclaimed. “I thought I told you.” Her face sagged. An instant later her expression turned pensive. “Maybe I just told Amy.” Ignoring Buffy entirely, Willow focused on the mountain of books, mumbling, “Yeah, ’cause we had that thing. And that thing got in the way of everything. But that’s okay it was an important thing. Not something we could put off.” Resting her elbow on the table, she cupped her cheek. “I could’ve sworn I told you.”

As Willow puzzled and sipped her coffee, Buffy prodded, “Will?” This is cute and all, but—

Buffy bit back a snicker when Willow didn’t quite choke, spray or sputter at the sound of her voice.

Setting the cup down, Willow stammered, “Oh, yeah…I’m working on—well, it’s the thing that makes the most sense. It isn’t the best thing, but it’s workable. It’ll be complicated.”

Y’know what…?

Buffy picked up the coffee cup. It just looked too good. That and another, slightly terser, “Will?” got the witch’s attention.

She sipped the coffee as Willow got around to explaining, “I wanna try to use the scythe as a conduit again. I may be able to ensoul them all. Of course, we have to get it back. And I need to…”

Willow fell flat again, but it was okay. She’d pretty much managed to leave Buffy speechless by her second sentence. The rest was just frill. Buffy sputtered, “Uh…” Wow. I totally get why I love her.

Huh.

Buffy smiled.

And she loves me.

The giddy schoolgirl action caught up.

We may actually make it. This might just turn out okay.

Reality took a bite. Her smile faded along with all that fluffy, gushy, girly stuff.

It’s kinda hard to tell. There’s still too much we haven’t got figured. But it sounds like we may have a real shot.

That’d simple things up so much. It’s hard to say how it’d go, but face it, anything’s better than twentyish conscienceless killing machines running amok.

It kinda puts them on our side. Not totally, but close enough. Good enough to work with.

Wow, bargain of the lifetime.

I’ll take it.

Buffy returned the cup and went back to massaging Willow’s shoulders. A few moments drifted idly past and the tension eased. Leaning down, she whispered, “I’ll call Mr. Kalderash and get him here. Until then—” I don’t know what else to offer. He’s as close to an expert as we have. She kissed Willow’s cheek and asked, “There any more of this?” gesturing vaguely to the coffee cup.

“Yeah,” Willow replied. “Our guests have been making themselves at home. Jonathan was here earlier to drop off groceries and stuff.” Her tone was so listless that it worried Buffy. It occurred to her that she hadn’t asked…about anything. Oh boy. This is her home too. That’s bad.

Buffy cleared her throat to cut the nervous edge and asked, “That bother you?” God, I hope not.

“Of course not. I think it’s funny as hell,” Willow replied through a snicker.

A little of the weight lifted and Buffy said, “Yeah, it’s quite the change.” Craning around to make eye contact, she took in the amused expression. It was the best thing she’d seen all day.

We really need to talk.

That was until Willow scooted her chair back and everything got all tumbley for an instant. Clinging, Buffy landed in her lap and things got even better.

Not now.

Soft, warm kisses made all of her doubts go away.

Later.

Amy stared into the pan of sizzling bacon, hoping that food would help. Two nights spent on couches had left her with a couple of charming mementos. ‘Sore’ and ‘sleepy’ pretty much covered it.

It’s funny, I might even say ‘I feel like shit’…except I don’t. I feel horrible, but it’s a good kind of horrible. Like that makes any sense at all.

Whatever, point is, I finally got through that thick skull of hers. All this is totally worth it for that…

…every last little ache.

Though Faith was uncharacteristically quiet, the difference in her mood was like night and day. Even groggy, it was easy for Amy to tell. Even blind, she could’ve sensed it. There wasn’t any banging or clatter or swearing. Faith stood at the counter, perfectly calm, slicing up a kiwi. Just handing her a knife yesterday might’ve ended in a tragedy worthy of the evening news.

After flipping the strips of bacon with a pair of tongs, Amy traded the tongs for a spatula and broke up the pieces of egg with its edge. The tasks were mindless. Way less than helpful.

You’d think that with a house full of vamps there wouldn’t be much. It’s a little strange how well furnished this kitchen is. There’s even a nice mixer. But I guess Willow and Tara did eat here. I just didn’t peg Willow for the type to cook. Maybe it was Tara?

I dunno…

Really, I should be totally stressed about today. I’m not sure how we’re gonna get any of this done. The list is just—well, more than a little overwhelming.

Actually, it’s insane. We have to not only figure out where, but when and how…and what the heck we’re gonna do about it.

It’s not a small list. I don’t know where to even begin. So…

Instead, I’m more curious about the soy cheese we tossed. Only vegans eat that crap. It’s hard to imagine Willow as a vegan. But there wasn’t anything real. It was all soy-this and veggie-that, so I guess they both were.

Who’d have imagined? Love animals. Hate people. I can sorta see it, but I think they got a bit carried away.

Just a touch.

And talk about your major lifestyle changes. If she ends up living the way Giles wants her to—

An ensoulled, penitent, ex-vegan, Jewish vampire living on nothing but pig’s blood. It’s the stuff of absurd black comedy. I want to feel bad for her, but that’s the last thing I should feel.

She got handed this gift that totally blows me away. And what does she—?

The doldrums sort of lifted when Buffy wandered into the room. “Well, B…look at you. Getting over the dominatrix complex?” Faith teased.

The comment was sassy and cute. Amy smiled as she glanced over her shoulder to see what it was all about. Buffy was wearing a white babydoll tee-shirt and jeans. She actually looked like she belonged. None of that matters. What’s important’s the here and now. And here, now…everyone’s changing…and not for the worse. The smile stuck. Buffy even returned it.

Amy went back to cooking, but her attention wasn’t there. Listless or not, she was lots more interested in the doings of the not-so-feudy Hatfields and McCoys.

When Buffy placed a block of something on the counter next to the coffeemaker, Faith stopped what she was doing and stared.

The ‘block’ was a bundle of new one-hundred dollar bills, bound with a paper band like Buffy’d just gotten it from a bank. Amy couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed.

Buffy went to the fridge and opened it, like there was nothing unusual about laying ten-thousand dollars on the kitchen counter. Rummaging through the fridge, she asked, “Huh?” way too late and sounding completely preoccupied.

“Nothing,” Faith replied. Her attention didn’t waver.

Amy portioned out the eggs onto two plates. When she next glanced, Buffy had one of the pints of the pig’s blood Jonathan had brought. Her expression reflected the epitome of distaste. She held the container away from herself as she carried it to the counter.

The bacon was almost done. Amy flipped it one more time to keep it from burning. A cabinet door opened to her right. There was a clunking sound and Buffy moved away.

Curiosity finally got the better of Faith and she said, “Uh…B.,” gesturing to the stack of cash.

Yeah, that’s pretty much where I was.

Tearing off some paper towels, Amy folded them to drain the bacon. She rushed through finishing up as Buffy asked, “Would you guys mind taking fifty-three-hundred of that to Giles for me? Use one of the cars. The keys are in a metal thing on the wall to the left of the door downstairs.”

Amy leaned against the counter. It was good to be away from the heat of the stove and able to see what was going on around her. Buffy was at the sink filling a wineglass with blood. Faith divided the fruit up onto their plates and put bread in the toaster as Buffy explained, “This old gypsy named Kalderash is gonna show up at the Magic Box sometime today. I asked him to explain how the whole ‘ensoulling vamps’ thing works.”

Buffy turned, briefly making eye contact with Amy and said, “You might wanna be there to get in on this.” As she went to the microwave, Faith made room. “I can’t guarantee where we’re gonna be.” She opened the door and put the glass in, tapping the touch pad as she went on. “We sort of need to figure out what’s up. We have a party to crash. Not knowing the address isn’t exactly good for us.” She went to put the container of blood back in the fridge. “Anyway, I promised him five grand for his trouble, plus travel expenses.”

The toaster popped just as Buffy finished. Faith grabbed a piece, picked up her plate and went to the island. Taking a seat, she asked, “Okay, so…what do you want us to do with the rest?”

That looked like a great idea to Amy. Taking the second piece of toast, she grabbed her plate and followed.

Buffy was in the middle of pouring a cup of coffee. She shrugged and said, “I don’t care,” glancing over her shoulder. There was a warm, friendly smile on her face. “Buy some clothes. No offense, but you two look like shit.”

Finishing a bite, Faith grinned. “You’re no ray of sunshine yourself, B.,” she replied through a snicker. Stabbing at her eggs, she added, “Thanks.”

Buffy took a sip of her coffee and turned to face them, saying, “No problem.”

So, the blood is for Willow?

Yeah, that’s just bad.

The microwave beeped. Buffy went to get the glass. As she turned back, Faith asked, “Get into a fight?”

The passing comment made no sense at all. Faith went back to eating as Amy tried to figure out what the heck she meant. Buffy looked normal. A little too normal.

As Buffy retrieved her coffee, she met Amy’s gaze. It wasn’t until then that Amy got how rude she was being. She grinned awkwardly in apology. When she looked down, she saw exactly what Faith meant. Peeking out from under the right sleeve of Buffy’s shirt was a mass of thick scars. Again, Amy couldn’t believe she’d missed it.

Huh.

Well, she didn’t get cut up in the fight. Not that I saw. Besides, that’d be healed by now…

That has to be from before…when she was human.

I guess that explains a few things.

It’d be nice if Faith had kept her mouth shut. She bit her lip to stifle a snicker. It’d be nice if she knew how.

Oh well, too late now. It’s not like I love her for her tact.

Amy wanted to be embarrassed, but it seemed kind of pointless. Buffy pretty much blew the whole thing off. She left the room, offering, “You could say that,” as a parting shot.

Faith kept eating, oblivious to any offense she might’ve caused. Business as usual.

Amy picked at her food. Funny, this sounded so good. Now I’m just—

Faith made quick work of her plate. She didn’t bother to say anything until she was done. After taking a gulp of her coffee, she asked, “So what’s the plan?”

“I don’t think we should let them go alone,” Amy replied. It wasn’t exactly a ‘plan.’ More like the first thing that came to mind because of a bad feeling. A shrug and a sigh both gave that away. She suggested, “I could follow them if you deliver the money. I’ll let you know once I figure out where they’re headed.”

Faith wasn’t impressed. As she got up to take her plate to the sink, she asked, “Are you sure that’s smart?”

Smart?

Well, it’s not exactly stupid.

Amy tossed the piece of bacon she was nibbling at back onto her plate, pushing the entire thing away. “Yeah…it’s no big,” she said with another shrug. “They’ll have to use the caves. I can track them above ground. Chances are really good that they won’t even know I’m there.”

Turning back from the sink, Faith leaned against counter. She folded her arms and replied, “Alright. That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Willow stood in a pool of light. It felt warm and wonderful. The smell of coconut oil hung heavy in the air. She closed her eyes, allowing herself one last moment of indulgence.

The illusion was just that. She let reality creep in. It’s not like either of us is gonna get a tan like this. The sunlight’s so filtered. This is no different than standing under a great big light bulb.

Well, maybe…

If I magically accelerated the production of melanin…

Actually, that’d be pretty simple. Lots less involved than some of the other stuff I’ve done. I bet it’d make her happy.

Willow sighed and turned her back on the sun. Buffy was still waiting, sitting patiently on the loveseat. It was a good act. She was even doing an admirable job of controlling the fidgets.

So, she gave the house away. I should be mad. I should act like I’m completely miffed.

But I’m not miffed. Not even in the least. I don’t like this place. Well, except for this little part of this place. This is a good place. Thing is, this isn’t something we couldn’t have somewhere else.

There’s nothing special. It’d actually be better…

Still, I should act like I’m mad. She didn’t even ask. For all she knows, I could love this place. All of it. Not just this little part.

Nah…

There’s no way she could think that. She’s just not that easily snowed.

Moving to the couch, she looked down at the pile of black leather. It looked like something Buffy might wear. Even she seemed puzzled by the choice. Willow didn’t bother to explain.

As Willow picked up the first item, her skin crawled. The cotton sundress she’d been wearing was draped over the back of the couch. She glanced longingly at it before seating herself on the arm of the couch and beginning the tedious process of putting on a body stocking. This is arguably the silliest piece of clothing ever.

But I need it. I need to be on edge if this gonna work. I can’t think of a better way.

Plus, looking the part—never bad. Not that I couldn’t look the part without this irksome thing.

Though her back was turned to Buffy, Willow could feel the attention. There were questions. Lots of them. The pang of guilt annoyed her almost more than dragging the opaque, black nylon over her slippery legs.

Willow stood and tugged at the body stocking, pulling it over her tummy. She smoothed it down and turned, replying “I really don’t care,” as she slipped her right arm into the first sleeve. “I think you’re right. If this doesn’t work, I’d rather have something smaller, just for us.” She slipped her left arm into the other sleeve, tugging the stupid thing up where it hardly belonged. “Actually, even if it does, I’d still like that.” She hooked her thumbs through the stirrup in each sleeve and glanced up.

Buffy smiled, but didn’t respond. Willow found it more than a little amusing that she appeared to be enjoying the show. The body stocking covered pretty much everything except for what it should. It stuck to her skin even worse with suntan lotion. The feeling was just plain gross. A knot formed in her stomach as she finished fussing with the goofy thing.

Giving Buffy one more quick glance, Willow picked up a black lace thong from the pile. She turned to sit and put it on. There was something else there. Tension in Buffy’s expression that Willow couldn’t quite place.

As Willow stood to pull the thong up, Buffy mumbled, “So, Maya, eh?”

Willow caught the snicker before it leapt out. It hung in her throat. She put her hand to her mouth and coughed. Oh my. That’s what that was. She’s jealous! That’s just too funny.

She doesn’t get it at all. There’s no way she could.

Only half-turning, hiding her delight, Willow picked up a pair of leather pants. She played with the laces, loosening them as she admitted, “Yes.”

Buffy laughed. It wasn’t anywhere near a happy laugh. The happy laughs live a couple of counties away from this one. In a tone drenched with sarcasm, she said, “Well, at least you’re not dressing this way for Simon. I’d really be scared. Or…” Willow sat down to put her pants on. “Oh God…the Doc.” The cringe came through in Buffy’s voice.

Willow replied, “I think the Doc’s gone, Buff.” She put her stocking clad feet through the legs of her pants and stood, pulling them up. “He bailed for L.A. a few months back. Some rumor about another Hellgod. He went to pay tribute. Poor old guy was just never right after you took out Glorificus.” She tightened the front laces to hold the pants up and tied them.

It surprised her a little when Buffy came over to help with the other laces. Willow held her arms up, out of the way as she explained, “Simon’s way too order bound. He’d never go for it. Really, Maya’s the best choice. She’d love the chaos these girls represent.” Plus, there’s the fuck-factor. She’d be all over that.

As Buffy cinched the laces on the outside of Willow’s right leg down, she asked, “You had a thing for her, didn’t you?” The tone of her voice was very flat. Too flat, really. Totally forced.

Oh yeah, she’s jealous. Well, I could explain, but—

No, no I couldn’t. How could I? It’d be, uh…

Interesting.

Sure, Buff, Maya and I had a thing. It was really special…in that ‘we fucked each other until we bled’ kinda way.

Yeah, she’d take that well. And if she has reason to question now, it’s her own damned fault. She should trust me. If she can’t—

Buffy tied the laces and moved to the other side. The leather stretched tight over Willow’s crotch. Her vision clouded. Clenching her jaw, she stifled a gasp.

She so doesn’t get it. She looks at me and knows that I’m different. She hasn’t seen enough to understand how much different I really am.

It’s okay…I deserve it. And if we make it through this, I’m gonna deserve more. Lots more.

Digging her nails into her palms, Willow said through gritted teeth, “It was more than ‘a thing’.” Buffy pulled so hard on the laces that Willow wondered if she’d be able to walk. As Buffy tied them off, Willow murmured, “Hold onto that.” The guilt was just annoying. She ignored it.

Buffy stood and put her arms around Willow. Concentrating on the soft, tiny hands that traced the contour of her tummy, Willow closed her eyes. The touch was so loving. It left her feeling floored. I don’t deserve this. Moving was hard, but she faced Buffy, reaching around her to remove the under-bust corset off of the dwindling stack. Willow unhooked it and put it around her waist, refastening it.

When Willow turned, Buffy tightened the laces and whispered, “What do you mean?”

Her breath tickled Willow’s neck. A chill rushed down her spine. Willow trembled. Scraping for self control, she said, “If we can make it through today, I want you to undress me. But—”

After she finished tying off the laces, Buffy prompted, “But, what?”

“But you have to promise to hold onto that and use it,” Willow replied. Reaching for her cropped leather jacket, she slipped it on. “All that jealousy. All the anger you don’t feel right now, but you probably will.” She picked up her boots. As she sat on the arm of the couch to put them on, her vision went all fuzzy again. She drew in a shaky breath and looked up, meeting Buffy’s eyes. “If you can focus on that…”

If it was possible—and Willow seriously wondered if it was—Buffy looked both suspicious and appalled. “You can’t be serious.”

It’s amazing. How does she cram that much emotion into one face?

Willow quirked an eyebrow.

As usual, Amy hadn’t given nearly enough thought to what she said she’d do. And it’d really turned around to bite her in the ass.

Running through a densely wooded thicket was just no fun. She was scraped in more places than she cared to count. Her arms stung from being whipped by tree limbs. Her tee-shirt clung. It was annoying. She was drenched. Even her jeans were damp with perspiration.

Exhaustion felt like a thick, wet blanket draped over her. Struggling to keep pace, forcing herself to move, she bit off labored breaths. The air was so heavy. It hung in her throat.

Amy considered sending her glowy, spastic little friend to either flight school or to hell, one of the two. She was seriously leaning toward the later. Evil Little Green Bastard!

When the Evil Little Green Bastard disappeared on her again, she just kept running in the same direction. That’d only happened about four or five times before. It wasn’t a big deal. Or Amy didn’t think so until she dodged between two trees and the earth gave way.

There was nothing. No solid ground under her feet. No predictable plain of terrain in view. Just open space.

She flailed her arms.

Falling…

Her right foot touched down. It twisted. Her knee folded.

The funny thing was that it hurt, but it didn’t. Everything went vague. She felt it, but—

Her right side slammed into the dirt. She tumbled head-over-heels. Down.

Things moved so weird. Way too slow. Like linear time got stuck, but not really. More like frozen. Creeping…

Her left shoulder dug in. Her right arm smacked the ground, crushed at a weird angle under her body. Her head hit.

She lost track. It was just too much. A lifetime passed before she stopped and when she did, every inch of her hurt.

Groaning, she stared up into the blurry green. The trees were large and lots older here.

That first breath felt like inhaling daggers. From there, it got better.

Amy blinked. She had the impression that it’d all happened so fast, like getting run over by a truck. It was the strangest thing. It didn’t track. She tried briefly to resolve the inconsistency and gave up.

With any luck, I’ll be able to forget all about it tomorrow.

Boy now, that’s naïve. I’m gonna hurt like a sonuvabitch tomorrow.

Her legs were bent at kind of a weird angle. It wasn’t quite painful. She moved her hips, rolling flat. As she straightened her legs, sharp pain stabbed through the right one. She bit back a cry, whimpering instead.

Using her arms, she pushed herself up and looked around. Go figure, the little fucker ran me over the edge of a cliff.

It took a second to get her head around what she saw and what it meant. There was a cave entrance cut into the washed out dirt and rock embankment. And a cave would mean…

Oh shit!

Fuck off.

Uh…

I mean… “Let the spell be ended,” she mumbled.

I’m so screwed!

Yeah…so much for stealthy. A herd of cattle might’ve made less noise.

And…

A pissed off Willow was the last thing she wanted to see. I’m not even sure the little bastard went away. There’s no way to tell. For all I know, that annoying, buzzy, little, green ball is doing laps around her head.

Boy, she’ll be just…

Uh, yeah…

I’ve gotta get moving!

Amy rolled onto her tummy and pushed up. Bending her right knee proved to be fun. One try was enough of that. Plenty. It was a horrible idea. Her stomach turned flip-flops as she grimaced over the throbbing pain. Holding her injured leg straight, she drug herself to the nearest tree and used it to get up.

Every step was painful. She wanted to stop and look. There’s no time. They could come out of that cave any second now. Fact is, if it were broken, I doubt it’d hold my weight. It’s probably just sprained. Not good, but I can live with that.

A frustrating question came to mind as she hobbled through the forest. How do I even know if I’m headed ‘away’? ‘Away’ really isn’t a direction unless you know the other person’s destination. I could be going exactly the same way they will. That’d, uh…

I hate my brain.

She stopped and hung her head. I’m out of line-of-sight of the cave. Best I can do. And there’s no screaming, so…

Looking herself over, Amy turned back the way she’d come. No surprise, she was a total wreck, covered in grime and bits of compost. Her arms were badly scraped and her knee had begun to swell. Still, she had a job to do.

As she limped to the nearest tree and leaned against it, another flaw in her brilliant plan came to mind. Even if I was in good shape, how would I track Willow through woods without her knowing I’m here? Me above ground and her underground is one thing. She’d have to get someone was there to sense me, but—

And then there’s Buffy. Yeah, she’d never hear leaves crunching behind her. It just wouldn’t happen.

I’m done.

Amy reached into her pocket, pulling out her new cell phone. It’s funny, Buffy left instructions for Jonathan to pick these things up. Something about it being a pain in the ass to keep track of us all.

Figures, first time I use it…

So, next question. Where the hell am I?

All these little details are such a bitch.

We’ve been travelling roughly south, southwest since we left the house. Stupid caves wind around so much it’s hard to say, but we’ve gotta be close to that old mission. I’m clueless how close.

It’s a start.

Amy dialed Faith’s phone and waited, praying it’d connect. From what I’ve seen, once you get away from Sunnydale, cell service is sketchy at best. She glanced at the phone before putting it to her ear. One bar.

Maybe…

The phone picked up. Reception was bad, but there. Faith’s voice came through fragmented. It took Amy a second to put together Faith’s, “What’s up?”

Amy took a stab, cutting what she had to say down to the simplest terms. “I’m near the old mission south of town. Get there and I’ll send a guide.” She did her best to keep her voice down. It was more than a little freak-some when seconds later mumbling caught her ear. ‘Quiet’ was a plan.

She flipped the phone closed and cowered against the tree, half-expecting the yelling to start at any instant. The tree was large enough to hide her, but there wasn’t anything really large enough to hide her. She held her breath and listened to the sound of crunching leaves. But there was something else. Something metallic. It made no sense.

What the hell is that?

Chain?

They went right past her. She could’ve reached out and touched—

Is that Willow or is it Buffy? It should be both of them.

It isn’t both of them. It’s only one person. There isn’t enough noise for two. And why would one of them be mumbling and the other be quiet?

This is messed up.

As they moved off, Amy chanced another peek. There was one figure dressed in a hooded black cowl. The really strange thing is that vamps, even under blankets, smolder in the daylight. There’s no smoldering.

Amy questioned what she was seeing. Have I even been following the right person?

No, there’s no way.

That spell…

She peeked again and got another piece of the puzzle. The cloaked figure cradled another person in her arms. Her cargo was shrouded in thick red cloth. Okay, so…

They were about to disappear from view behind a tree. Amy took one last look and everything became perfectly clear. She was watching Willow. And Willow was carrying Buffy. The detail she’d missed was the stiletto heels. Buffy would never wear those. She couldn’t fight in them. I don’t get how Willow’s moving so gracefully. On this terrain, while carrying someone? I didn’t know she had it in her.

Amy waited a few moments before tottering back to the cave. We can track them. All I have to do is get through to Faith. I need her.

Willow stood, stooped in the doorway. She clutched Buffy tight against her chest. The sun was just too bright. A faint stench of charred flesh wafted up from her cloak.

I hope it’s me. But I’m not sure. ‘Uncomfortable’ is such a relative thing. I itch and burn in more places…than I have places.

It feels like my skin’s been sanded.

Willow tapped at the door with the tip of her boot. There wasn’t much choice. If she set Buffy down, there was a good chance she’d be scorched or worse. I’ve done enough. I’ve gotta at least try to—

When Willow tapped again, the door swung in, opening just a crack. But no one met her. There were no voices or signs of life. She tried to tap again and met the invisible barrier she suspected would be there. Great! Now what?

I was welcome here when I still had a pulse. Figures, dying revoked my privileges. That’s just sad.

Being a vamp sucks!

Well, I could turn around and go home. Yeah…that’d help. We could throw dice and guess. It’d be fun!

Or…

I could just assume it is Maya and follow her if she leaves tonight. Thing is…following Maya…

If she notices me…

Uh…

Yeah, that’d end badly. This can only go one way. I’ve gotta get her to let her guard down and overpower her quickly. She can’t have a chance to fight. Any other way…I’ll have led us to our deaths.

It’s that simple.

An impatient hiss slipped past Willow’s parted lips. ‘One of the most powerful witches in the western hemisphere.’ Yeah. Funny, not feeling very powerful here. Actually, feeling pretty fucked.

Stupid little schmuck. He has some weird definitions. ‘Most powerful,’ must be a relative thing. An advertising gimmick. I forgot to read the fine print.

Powerful?

Maybe…but it does me loads of good if what I’m facing can turn me to dust with a casual thought.

Really, I can’t even do half of what I should be able to do. Less, actually.

Powerful.

Willow rolled her eyes.

The thing that really sucks—this’d all be okay if I could just kill her. Human or not, I think I could do that and be totally fine with it. Maya’s one scary bitch. She’s arguably crazier than me. And that’s really saying something.

Yeah, that’d be great. Just kill and leave. Sign me up. Trouble is, I’ve got to know. This’ll all be a waste if I can’t find out. We’ll be right back to square one. And out of time.

This has to work ’cause either way, we’re done.

After way too much waiting, wondering and worrying, a soft, feminine voice called out from inside the house, “Please, come in. I’ve been expecting you.”

Oh boy…

Willow couldn’t believe she was actually relieved to step inside. It was the last thing she should be. I can be brighter. I swear. Sometime. Maybe. Not now.

All of the windows were open in the sitting room of the quaintly appointed little cabin. Or what passed for little and quaint. This place is worse than my room.

It’s really no better here than it was outside. I wonder how ‘expecting’ she was. How much does she know? I dunno…

All can do is my best.

First things first. Hooking the door closed with her foot, she rushed toward a shadowy hallway to her right.

As Willow lowered her precious cargo to the floor, the smell of blood overwhelmed her. It was so strong. There was spiciness to the scent that threw her off. Whatever it was, it smelled wonderful. Her mouth watered.

Stumbling forward, Willow whacked her knee on the wooden floor. Buffy fell, but Willow caught her head.

The leather pitched. Completely unwelcome, spots of white light blotted Willow’s vision. She clamped her eyes shut and clenched her jaw, scraping for control. Warm tingly pulses rippled through her body, radiating from the offensive part. She trembled and groaned.

The haze cleared. Her face was all prickly. She didn’t have to touch it to know. Hunger clawed at her.

Blood.

“Come bearing gifts?”

Willow’s attention snapped left, toward the sound of the voice. Standing in the front room, leaving a puddle on the hardwood flood, was Maya. Her slender, bronze body was naked and bathed in sunlight and blood.

Willow licked her lips. Her teeth were sharp. She kinda forgot and nicked her tongue. But it was okay, the blood tasted good, even if it was her own. “I’m here to offer a trade,” she said. The sound of her own voice tickled her. She giggled. Not at all what she expected, it was husky and thick with passion. Oh, that was good. Yay! Go me!

Go figure, I came enough times…

Stupid pants.

“What’s to keep me from killing you and taking your prize for myself?” Maya asked.

She would ask that. Damn her!

“The same thing as always,” Willow said, rising to her feet. “I’d be lots less fun dead.” A cold snicker bubbled up. It was good. The act was perfect. She pulled her cloak off, letting it fall to the floor. “Of course, strictly speaking, I may be even more fun dead.” She grinned. “Still testing the theory…”

Obviously amused, Maya asked through a seductive smile, “Tell me what you have in mind?”

Willow replied, “Well, first thing, I want in.” She glanced down at Buffy. I’m sorry. “From there, I’m not sure. You’re kind of a mess, y’know. I could help get you cleaned up.” She stared at a droplet of blood that clung to the silver ring in Maya’s right nipple. As it dripped, Willow made a point of playing up her naturally lusty self, lingering to enjoy the view.

It’s a shame such a good view belongs to such a bad person.

Slowly closing the distance between them, Maya whispered, “Let me see my prize and I’ll consider your offer.”

Willow cursed her body and her naughty brain. What I really want is laying at my feet, but Maya…

Bending down—lots more cautious this time about the whole thing—Willow pulled back the cloak.

Maya murmured, “Well, well, well…” She crouched to caress Buffy’s cheek. “Yeah, we may have a trade.”

Willow stared at the bloody streaks on Buffy’s face. The smell was enough to make her weak. Sensing the surge of power, Willow faced Maya. Fabric ripped. Willow’s attention snapped back. Buffy was naked and pinned to the wall. The only things that remained were the chain around her waist and shackles around her ankles, thighs and wrists. She was helpless.

What have I done?

Maya cooed, “Oh, what a shame. Poor dear.” She traced a line between Buffy’s breasts down to cuffs that were chained at her tummy.

The whole thing made Willow sick. She felt violated.

She shared this with me. She trusted me. This was something only I knew. It was ours.

If it’s possible for something so horrible to be special…

I didn’t even think. It didn’t even occur to me—

None of this.

There just isn’t a hell of a lot I do care about. The admission caught Willow by surprise. She hadn’t really considered it. But it was true. She watched, helpless to do anything, as one of the only things that mattered to her drifted down the hallway in Maya’s wake. God help me.

Like that’s even a reasonable fucking request. God doesn’t help people like me.

But I did the noble thing. I sacrificed one to save them all. One who means more to me than—

Not that it matters. There’s no one. Nothing.

Bile rose in her throat. She tasted the thick, coppery swill. Swallowing it back, she turned to follow Maya.

And I’m not sure I can keep her conked without Maya sensing it. If Buffy wakes up…I can’t even imagine. It’ll be horrible.

I had to. I had no choice. There was no other way. I thought maybe I could keep her—that she wouldn’t know.

Maybe she’ll understand.

I doubt it.

The door at the end of the hall swung open. Stepping aside, Maya steered Buffy through, maneuvering her down a rough stone, spiral staircase.

I can’t…

Willow watched them disappear around the bend, but she knew exactly where they were going. This shouldn’t be happening. Not like this. It never happens this way in the movies.

The good guys always win. There’s no—

’Kay, so…there’s torture sometimes, but only in Mel Gibson films. And how realistic—?

“Did you know that this town is simply crawling with vampires?” Maya asked. “It’s shocking, really. You just can’t be too prepared.” Her voice echoed. It sounded disjointed, but the tinkle of amusement carried.

Willow reached the bottom of the stairs. The hidden door concealed behind a shelf full of dusty Mason jars was open. Stepping through, she immediately turned away. The cliché horror movie hiss didn’t quite happen, but only because she bit her tongue. It hurt. She quit.

I’m pathetic.

In the middle of Maya’s dungeon was a new fixture, a giant, rough wooden crucifix. Willow couldn’t bear to look. Why it bothered her so much was impossible to discern. She struggled to get her head around it. There was no reason. It just did.

When the musty smell was replaced by the odor of scorching flesh, Willow was almost grateful she couldn’t bring herself to watch. The sizzling sound alone…

At least she’s not screaming. I couldn’t…

I’d die.

Or want to.

Willow turned away. There was nothing she could do. As she forced herself to trudge back to the stairs, the snap of a whip echoed off the cold stone walls.

I have to get control. We’re screwed if I don’t. I can’t…

The whip sliced through the air, cracking again and again…

I have to. We’re here. I brought us here because I had to. We have to. There’s no choice. I have to control this.

Willow pulled off her gloves and let them fall. She mopped the tears. She’ll never forgive me.

The flogging went on until a shrill scream rung out.

Piercing…

Oh, God!

The sickness in Willow’s stomach boiled over. She choked, fighting to find stability, sanity, something…

Something impossible. Something that’s not even—

There’s no question. This’ll give me away. I’ve gotta get all my Twinkies back in the box before Maya sees me. If I don’t, we’re finished.

Swallowing back a mouthful of sick, Willow found exactly what she needed. Icy and cold, hatred consumed her. It made her feel powerful. Better yet, it made her feel sure. Certain, beyond the taint of doubt, that she wanted one thing, Maya’s blood.

There’s no hope. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m damned.

But damned or not, I can save her… Willow mopped her face in disgust. …from the likes of me. And she can save them.

I don’t care what happens to me.

Emerging from the dungeon, Maya strutted past Willow without giving her so much as a glance. “I gotta hand it to you,” she said, practically shouting to be heard over Buffy. “You really know your roofies. I had to flay half her chest to wake her sorry ass up.”

Willow followed, seething. She grabbed for Maya and her face went impossibly hot. Willow froze.

It felt for a moment like embarrassment. She grappled with why. It made no sense.

As understanding came with Maya’s steely gaze, Willow struggled to move.

Her body smoldered. The heat was stifling. Smoke burned her nostrils.

Buffy’s screams filled her ears.

I’m so sorry.

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