‘Vamps in Gray’

Buffy believed that she had seen Willow at her weakest the night the vampire visited the abandoned factory. It happened a week after Buffy had allowed her to go back to the Bronze. The still ailing vamp quickly discovered that she was physically outclassed by other vampires, even by her prey, and Buffy had been tempted many times to just go help her crippled vamp and buy her the blood she needed. But Willow had to do this alone, this survival thing, even as Buffy watched her desperately steal money so she could buy blood from Willie’s, or failed miserably in subduing prey who fought back. Willow did not do very well at all. It was her first week of freedom since Ethan Rayne, and all Buffy could do was watch.

After a week of watching her vamp struggle, Buffy saw her leave the Bronze one night and hurry her way through the warehouse district of Sunnydale. Buffy knew Willow had learned to avoid the sewers; she was as much a target from other demons underground as she was from those above. Tonight, Willow wore an oversized coat she had stolen. Buffy could tell she was hiding an ax within the folds. When she reached the abandoned factory, Willow axed the doors open. Once she was inside Buffy observed discreetly from the outside, accessing a skylight.

Sometimes she tripped Willow’s awareness and sometimes she didn’t. Or, Willow just chose to ignore the Slayer’s presence. That night, Willow was completely obsessed with trying to find something, Buffy’s possible presence be damned. As the vamp sifted through debris and cursed, Buffy watched her and speculated idly on what Willow could have possibly lost or be looking for. The Master’s bones? Giles had said that the ancient vamp’s lieutenants would be able to resurrect him with a secret ritual they had been taught, so Buffy and Kendra had enthusiastically pummeled the Master’s remains with cement blocks. Ken and Giles then went to the coast and scattered Master bits into the ocean. Even if Willow went over the factory floor with a fine toothed comb she wouldn’t find even a bone splinter down there.

When Buffy saw Willow crumble in despair and hold her head with one hand, the Slayer finally deduced what the vampire had been looking for. Her missing right hand.

That had not been Willow’s weakest moment. That came after the red haired vampire noticed the dully gleaming machine that lay dusty and silent in the middle of the factory floor.

Willow went over to it, dragging her ax. She stopped before it and stared. The vampire stared at it for so long, Buffy started to feel a little uneasy about her behavior. All the Slayer could remember about the big, clunky device was that it was some kind of ‘blood sucking’ machine. Feed a human through it, it tapped the blood right out of them. She and Ken had not paid it much attention. Their Slayer objective had been the Master, and that was what they went for. Triumphantly, too. Oz and Larry eventually took out the machine’s essential hardware, so it was pretty much dead too. Just a load of junk.

“Kinda like how your life feels right now, huh?” Buffy whispered down to her vamp, as she watched her through the skylight’s dirty glass.

With an enraged scream, Willow suddenly raised her ax in her one hand and began to whale upon the machine.

“STUPID!!” Willow shouted with each blow. “STUPID--STUPID--”

Buffy watched patiently as parts dented or flew. When Willow’s arm finally tired and allowed the chipped ax to fall, the vampire was keening.

Buffy grew concerned when the tearful redhead dragged over a gas can.

When the vampire stood once more before the broken machine, ax clutched to her chest and staring with a stark kind of wide-eyed finality, Buffy decided to act.

She smashed through the skylight and landed like a super girl right on the machine’s conveyer belt.

Just as she stood up to strike a Slayer pose, the machine collapsed beneath her feet.

“Woops,” Buffy emitted, a little embarrassed that her entry hadn’t been perfect. She straightened out and pointed with Slayer focus at the vampire.

“Fire bad,” she admonished, like a teacher scolding a child.

Willow just stared back at her like she’d spoken Martian.

“Are you my Slayer stalker now?” the vamp finally bit out, and it would have sounded like her usual sarcastic volley, except her voice was far too rough with tears, and her face still held that wide eyed, vulnerable look of lost. Buffy was familiar with that stare; she had seen it a couple of times in the mirror herself.

“Yeah,” Buffy answered perkily. “Except I left my autograph book at home.” The Slayer jumped down from the broken machine and casually swiped the gas can away from the vamp’s side. She deposited it neatly on the other side of the machine. She returned and reached for the ax the vampire held close to her chest.

“No,” Willow refused hoarsely, clutching the handle hard. “It’s mine. I earned it.”

“But where do you intend to put it?” Buffy asked. She paused, but did not remove her hand. “In your neck?”

Willow just stared at her. The dull and chipped edge was near the redhead’s throat. It would be a very messy end.

“Y-You think,” the vampire swallowed, anger and grief in her eyes. “That I would, after all I’ve been through?....”

Buffy didn’t answer, her eyes noncommittal. She didn’t let go of the ax either. Willow’s face broke up and she struggled to put it back together. Fierce, fast tears escaped before she finally succeeded. She would not look at Buffy.

“I’m going home,” she eventually whispered.

“I’ll walk you,” Buffy said.

* * *

The week after that had been touch and go. On the third week Willow nearly got herself staked, and that was when Buffy blew her last chance to have her. In the weeks that followed however, Willow regained strength and no longer looked near to self-destructing. Buffy gradually toned down her surveillance of the redhead and focused on ‘retirement’, mom, and Cordelia--not necessarily in that order. When Willow appeared to be on steady feet again, Buffy backed off and let her be.

By Slayer standards, she really did let an evil thing like Willow be. This attention Buffy paid her currently?--still kind of stalker’y, but more about keeping a naturally powerful vamp in line. At least that was what the Slayer personally rationalized as she entered the redhead’s club, the Bronze.

It was that golden hour, right after noon time, and Buffy made her jaunty way across the Bronze’s main floor.

“Rocky!” she greeted, addressing Willow’s number one minion. “Nice bandage!” The large minion with the throat bandage just stared balefully at her as she cheerfully jogged up Willow’s stairway.

A Slayer kick and walk right in, that was Buffy’s M.O. She readied her foot.

Inside, the object of her attentions abruptly awoke.

“Ohh...” Willow moaned into a pillowy chest, rousing herself reluctantly from sleep. That damn Slayer tingle. “Fuck...sakes...” she muttered, and then to her surprise, Tara sat up suddenly in the bed with Willow held tight to her. Willow managed to roll her eyes up to see the feral girl’s face. Tara still had hers closed.

BAM!! came the kick to the door--neatly blocked by the heavy armoire--which was immediately followed by BUMP, and--

“Oww,” Willow heard the Slayer say in embarrassment, that nose of Buffy’s sounding a little stuffy.

“HA HA HA!!” Willow laughed maliciously. “Kissed the door with your nose, Buff?” she sneered in the door’s direction. Tara had begun laying back down again, eyes still shut and Willow still attached to her chest. Her feral vampire apparently followed the strong natural instinct to keep sleeping in daylight hours.

“What is that in front of your door? A rock?” the Slayer spoke through the wood good humoredly. “Should I try again?”

“NO!” Willow yelled, sitting up, this time without Tara. The armoire was one of the very few things she had managed to keep when she’d sold so many of the Master’s things. “Don’t come in! What do you want now?” she demanded. Willow couldn’t help the exasperated whine in her voice.

“What’s with the heavy precautions?” Buffy inquired in return. “Are you doing the nudie with someone?” the Slayer asked suspiciously.

“Yes!! And you’re interrupting our fuckfest,” Willow tossed crossly at her. She felt Tara’s hands come up, slowly fondling along Willow’s sides. The redhead couldn’t help a grin, because the feral girl’s eyes were still closed.

“Is it Amy?” Buffy asked with great curiosity.

Willow blew her cheeks out, stifling the urgent desire to go ‘Gahhhh’.

“No, Buff. It’s your Watcher. I’m fucking Ripper. He’s a total stevedore in bed. I’m going to call your mother later, we’re planning a threesome,” Willow answered sweetly, Tara’s hands playing with her all the while. Willow suppressed a giggle.

“Now, now, don’t be catty,” Buffy said pleasantly. The Slayer, Willow knew, would never overlook that kind of insult from her in public. “Now tell me what I really want to know,” she added with a hint of hardness.

Willow could hear in Buffy’s voice that the fun was over. The ‘Slayer’ was present now.

“The mountain lion’s dead,” Willow stated flatly. She bit her lip, uncertainty and reluctance suffusing her slender face as she stared down at her close eyed lover.

“And?” she heard the Slayer prompt.

Willow gently touched the soft lids, and watched the blonde woman’s generous mouth curve in response at one corner. Already, Tara was becoming precious to her.

“I wish....I wish you could have been just mine...for a little while longer,” Willow whispered softly. The redhead felt a tender thumb at her jaw. Tara opened her eyes only a fraction, her blue eyes sleepy and calm. Willow took hold of that thumb and kissed it, shutting her eyes in intense emotion.

“And?” she heard the Slayer prompt once more. She was getting impatient.

“And I brought the feral vampire down from the forest,” Willow finally answered, staring down at Tara.

“Good girl,” Buffy praised. Her voice began to fade as she turned away from the door. “Meeting tonight. Be there. And.” Willow could hear the Slayer’s cheeky grin. “Bring your friend.”

* * *

Evening came soon enough for sleeping vampires. Willow had fallen asleep again without the usual disgruntled feelings elicited whenever the Slayer graced her with her rude wake up calls. Instead, she’d eased back into slumber with a sense of well being and satisfaction, both rare emotions easily attributed to the wonderful creature in her bed.

Willow usually woke by evening, an hour or two before sunset, but this time she awoke because Tara was nibbling on the end of her nose.

“Ack,” Willow commented, scrunching up her face. The nibbling tickled in a way that made her want to sneeze. She managed to open her eyes. “You’re all energetiiiiiiic--” she gasped, as she felt Tara’s fingers slip inside her. “Did--I--say you could--do that?”

Her answer was a soft mouth descending on hers for a deep, deep kiss. Willow had found, much to her awe and delight, that Tara kissed very, very attentively. And thoroughly too.

When their lips finally parted, Tara had a very familiar, lewd grin on her face.

“Oh y-you beast, you, wicked woman,” Willow breathed, as Tara’s fingers slid in and out of her. “You sex fiend,” she further accused. Tara growled in response, enjoying the game. “You, you can’t make me cum, you bad--” Willow gasped. “Evil--” She clutched desperately at the bedcovers, her body arching.

All night, Tara had been the one on top, dictating how their interactions would go. When the feral vampire rested, that was when Willow could indulge in her own happy attentions to the girl’s body. Like right now, after recovering from the delicious wake up call in bed. Both of them in the pounding shower, Willow sucking on Tara’s gorgeous tits. Usually sex between vampires were power struggles, but Willow was very willing to cede the game of dominance to her new lover. There were deep scars on Tara’s soft abdomen, which Willow had traced all night with mouth and fingers, and they had told her all she needed to know of how the feral girl had died. If Tara needed control in bed, Willow could give that at least back to her.

And as for herself, being joyously boffed once more, this time high up against the tiled back wall of the shower? Alot could be said for the enthusiastic sex drives of powerful newborns, Willow smugly appreciated, even as her body tightened and orgasmed yet again, the slender vampire crying out her pleasure.

“You need clothes,” Willow stated, feeling wonderfully well fucked, and the evening had only just begun. She was searching about in her drawers while Tara stood in an oblivious, classical, nude goddess state in the middle of her bedroom. The ‘classical goddess’ look was almost complete except for the lidded eyed, dark gaze on the blonde vampire’s face that seemed to speak of a less than benevolent nature.

“Here you go, these were Xander’s.”

Willow returned to Tara with a men’s long sleeved, silk button down and a pair of black jeans. “He was taller than you, you’ll have to roll the bottoms. These’ll keep you decent until we can really dress you nice,” Willow breathily noted. Tara took the clothes, tossed them on the bed, and ran a possessive hand along Willow’s naked hip.

“No,” Willow admonished, giving the hand a light slap. “No more sex until we get business done for the night. Then we can play.” Tara took hold of the hand that had slapped her and placed the forefinger in her mouth. Her lidded, blue eyes stared at Willow as she sucked the finger.

“Hungry?” Willow asked, her thumb playfully tapping Tara on the nose. It didn’t surprise her that Tara hardly talked at all. Except for saying their names last night, Tara hadn’t spoken one word since. Such silence, Willow recognized, felt more primal, more honest than the use of words.

Tara went to demon face, her mouth baring slightly to loosen her hold on Willow’s finger. It looked like she would bite her. The implication was very bold, very naughty actually, and Willow knew it was something she should discipline.

“No,” she said firmly. She went to tip-toe and with her right arm stump, rubbed at Tara’s ridges. “No, you can’t have mine. Bad Kitty. Behave, or no more fun,” she warned. One last rub and Tara acquiesced and put her demon face away. Willow did not try to remove her finger from Tara’s mouth however, as she pointedly looked at the feral vampire. Reluctantly, Tara let go of Willow’s one hand, and allowed the red haired vampire to remove her finger freely.

“Now put on your clothes,” Willow ordered in a no nonsense tone, her one hand on her hip. Tara turned obediently to do so. That, Willow realized, was probably going to be one of several little power struggles that would eventually come up. Just between the two of them, Tara could be as alpha-Kitty as she wanted to be, but when it came to blood and possibly other matters, the feral vampire had to behave. Tara had to learn to be ‘good’, or neither she nor Willow would be able to survive the Slayers’ Sunnydale.

* * *

First on the things to do for the two vampires: drop off the dead kitty cat at the taxidermist.

Tara had agreed easily to Willow’s suggestion to make Mr. Mountain Lion into a cool rug. The taxidermy was demon owned; even Buffy used it quite a bit, although Willow believed Cordelia had since thrown out or burned many of the Slayer’s demon trophies. No creature or request was too strange for Sunnydale’s Taxidermy.

“Baby, would you like anything else?” Willow asked Tara after she’d finalized the price and service for the dead cat lying on the store counter. Tara pointed at the animal and then pounded once on her chest.

“Tara wants the heart,” Willow told the counter guy.

Next stop, with a mountain lion’s heart neatly wrapped in butcher paper and packed in the cooler in Willow’s trunk, was Delilah’s Tribal Goddess Shoppe.

When Willow stopped the car, Tara took one look at the shop and sighed.

“Oh,” Willow frowned. She had thought Tara would be pleased. “You...would you rather we go somewhere else?”

Tara merely left the car, and Willow had to follow, baffled.

When Tara entered the shop, the pungent presence of incense sticks and teakwood flared in her olfactory awareness. She had to pause, swaying slightly at the sensory sensation. She liked it. It was very nice.

“Tara!” a deep, female voice boomed from the back of the shop. A broad bodied, colorfully dressed African American woman appeared, smiling broadly. “I haven’t seen you for months! Where have you been hiding yourself, girl? And what is that you’re wearing? It’s not fit for a figure like yours. Let me show you--”

Tara only smiled, staring through the blonde strands of her hair. The shop keeper paused in surprise and took in the strangely cold gaze, so unlike the warm hearted, young Wiccan. Tara had always been a pale girl, with beautiful, clear skin. But now there was a pallor to it that Delilah, owner of the Tribal Goddess, recognized as death.

“Oh dear Gods,” she whispered in dismay. A ringed hand clutched at her bosom as she silently invoked her Vodun deities. She noticed the red haired, leather coated girl standing at the shop’s door, watching them both. Delilah saw the pinned up sleeve where an arm should be.

“Dear, dear Gods,” the shop owner exhaled in further sadness and dismay, recognizing Willow as one of the notorious Aurelius vampires. Her brow furrowed and she shook her head in sorrow.

“How are you, Tara?” Delilah couldn’t help asking her now dead, young friend. A silly, if heartfelt question really, but the shop owner instinctively felt there was at least a little of the gentle girl she’d known inside the creature before her.

Tara smirked slightly. She was having a quirky, vampire humor moment. “Never better,” she simply answered.

Delilah clucked in disapproval as her attention returned to Willow.

“Did you do this?” she demanded. “You terrible, evil, evil little thing!” she pronounced in a righteous, trembling voice.

“Thank you,” Willow replied. “But no.”

The shop owner took a deep, intense breath, and seemed to grow exponentially bigger, to Willow’s surprise.

“There will be no killing in my shop,” the older woman laid down in her powerful voice. She took on a fierce eyed, thunderous intensity that reminded Willow of Kendra. “Any act of violence and I’ll have you both cursed faster than you can blink!”

Tara remained where she was, not blinking. She really had no intention of killing Delilah, although a better part of her did want to. Already, she was disliking the baffling, inner conflict she knew she would experience once she returned to the society of humans. She did not want to dwell right now on this ‘defect’ of her nature however. Willow would have to establish the rules of conduct for her or else Tara would be forced to choose.

“Slayer’s Law,” the feral vampire heard Willow pleasantly offer. Tara felt both relief and anger at the words.

“Slayer’s Law,” Delilah intoned, giving the vampires one last, measuring stare. Then her demeanor changed. “Now what can I do for you children,” she offered congenially.

* * *

Tara chose the kinds of clothes that would have made herself blush in her former life.

Delilah made approving noises, and Willow’s green eyes were nothing but big, shiny, admiring emeralds. Her Red Hair could not stop smirking either.

“I’ve always encouraged her for belly dance,” Delilah was telling Willow. “Such a beautiful shape she has!” The shop owner then tsked as the golden, embroidered choli top Tara modeled revealed the scars on her pale abdomen. The older woman shook her head and passed a hand near the area.

“Think of them as battle scars,” Willow suggested, looking at Tara. “Better to have won,” she added, not finishing the sentence.

“Perhaps,” Delilah only commented darkly.

After the accumulation of several bags of clothes and the modeling of many outfits, the shop owner happily tallied up the loot.

“Anything else you’d like, baby?” Willow asked, eyeing her lover appreciatively. Tara had decided to wear a flowery, sleeveless, hippy chick dress, the skirt edges flowing. The top was layered but also sheer; Tara’s bare boobs could easily be seen.

“I don’t carry underwear,” Willow heard Delilah say, as Tara immediately went to the incense bins and began picking out sticks. “But there are camisoles.”

“If Tara wants,” Willow murmured a little distractedly, watching her lover ignore them both and their conversation. Willow smiled. She guessed her feral vampire did not.

Delilah dropped a lacey, translucent shawl over Tara’s shoulders. The feral vampire gave the shop owner a resentful glance. She did not remove the new accessory, however, but allowed the thin fabric to slip off her shoulders and rest across her arms, as she inspected the selection of henna tattoo kits.

“That one I include for free,” Delilah told Willow, as she bustled away with an armload of Tara’s incense choices.

* * *

Willow’s credit card got quite a beating at the Tribal Goddess, but if it made her feral girl happy, the red haired vampire was definitely happy too.

Once Tara dumped all her shopping bags into the trunk, she looked down at herself critically. With a decisive gesture she immediately ripped her new dress up the side, revealing creamy thigh. She then ripped the bodice and poked a few holes into her new shawl. She replaced it back over her arms and looked at Willow.

Willow was a fastidious vampire. She didn’t like to look messy, mostly because having one arm might imply she couldn’t dress herself. It was a ‘control’ thing too, really.

“Very uncivilized,” she finally complimented.

Her feral Kitty tossed her tawny mane with a smile and entered the car.

“I didn’t know you were a witch,” Willow admitted, as she drove them away from the shop. Learning from Delilah that Tara had been a peaceful Wiccan when she was alive was quite a revelation. “I should have sensed it, but I guess.” Willow felt a little self-conscious. She hated admitting to a weakness. “I-I’m not much of a witch yet myself to be able to.”

“You have the power. You need more training,” Tara merely replied, staring directly out the car’s windshield. It was the longest sentence Tara had ever said to Willow. It made her sound so...different.

“How long,” Willow asked hesitantly as she drove. “How long have you been learning?”

“Since I was a baby.” Came the curt reply.

“Oh. Wow. Does that mean you learned it from?--”

“My mother.”

Willow only nodded. A gap was beginning to form between them, and Willow wasn’t sure how it happened. No, actually she did know how. It began with her having asked Tara about herself. That apparently was a kind of no-no, a sensitive ground, and Willow did not know why. So she dropped the subject, hoping that the ice that now existed between them would soon thaw, and just drove.

When they reached Sunnydale High School and Willow had parked in the deserted parking lot, she turned to Tara.

“Two Watchers, three Slayers,” she breathed. “Two humans, one witch, one werewolf.” She saw Tara bristle at that, but immediately tamped down her aura of violence. That was good, Willow thought. If her feral girl could just continue to show that kind of control, this encounter might turn out okay.

But just in case....

Willow went to demon face, and sliced her finger open.

“No strings?” Tara suddenly asked her, her blue eyes focused only on the precious liquid seeping from Willow’s upheld finger.

“No strings,” Willow assured softly. “But a promise...” Of more, her mind silently added. If you’ll just behave. Please please please behave.

Tara closed her eyes like a cat just as her lips closed upon Willow’s finger. When she finally released it from the grasp of her mouth, she leaned in, and hungrily kissed Willow.

“I’ll be good,” Tara assured with a rakish, half-grin, and exited the car.

It was just the Watchers in the library. Willow liked to arrive early. Wyndam-Price noticed them first, and perhaps because he made a strange gaping noise, Giles exited his office and noticed them too.

“Ah,” he said, eyeing Tara, who stood at the far end of the common area, back to the bookcases. She did not lean on them, she merely stood, loose limbed and with her thin shawl draped casually over a shoulder and along a bare, pale arm. It was apparent she was wearing no bra. Willow was just about to seat herself in her usual spot at the table. If Tara wanted to remain afar from her, it was obviously in order to take in the whole room.

“And you are?” Giles asked, addressing the newcomer.

“Tara,” Willow answered, seating herself neatly.

“Shall I guess,” the Watcher added drily. “Your feral vampire?”

“Yes.”

Wyndam-Price looked positively ready to execute a girl groupie faint over this new development. He fumbled and readied his ever present Watcher’s notebook, pen in hand. He began scribbling, glancing up often to look at Tara.

“And you are how old?” Giles asked Tara.

Tara did not answer, she merely stared at Giles like he were television. Chicken McNuggets on television.

“I believe about a month and a half,” Willow gave pleasantly.

“And you remained in Sunnydale Forest since your Turning?” Giles asked Tara.

Willow waited the appropriate long, silent moment.

“Yes,” she answered for her feral vampire. Wesley’s pen just kept scratching.

“Apparently...lacks...speech...skills...” he was muttering under his breath, writing down his remarkable observations as fast as he could.

Tara’s mouth twitched at the corner. She gave the game away.

“I see,” Giles commented, eyeglass handle pressed to his mouth. He turned away, obviously recognizing that they were being played. “I see,” he merely said, and Willow wasn’t surprised to note that his thoughtfully pursed lips appeared to suppress a grin as well.

The library double doors slammed open, and the Slayers Two made their entrance into the room.

Tara continued to watch Giles and ignored the two young women who came to an abrupt stop and pulled stakes from their jackets.

“What’s this, G-man?” Faith threw out, eyes on the intruder vamp.

“A guest. Please, put those away,” Giles answered. He vaguely waved in their direction. “She is with Willow.”

“Yeah? Oh.” Faith stepped closer, challenging Tara to look at her. She got a good whiff too. “Uh huh. That kind of ‘with’,” the youngest Slayer ascertained with a suggestive leer.

Tara’s eyes suddenly connected with hers, blue slamming into brown.

There was such frightening intensity in the feral vampire’s eyes, Faith actually stepped back a little. Realizing what she’d done, Faith stepped forward again.

“Don’t fuck with me,” she menaced, attempting to intimidate back, but the damage had already been done. Tara had established that she was dynamite to the Slayer’s firecracker.

Faith turned away, incensed, and stepped angrily to the research table. She tried to look like she didn’t care. Tara turned her attention to Kendra. It was like Goldilocks checking out Mama Bear. This Slayer would not be so easy.

Kendra stared back at Tara with more than ‘Don’t Fuck With Me’ in her dark eyes.

Willow had always felt that Kendra was a strong Slayer, but she had her weaknesses--one was a rigidity that didn’t make her easily adaptable, and Willow felt that someday that would mean the Jamaican girl’s death. Willow had once been uncompromising herself--Master’s vision of the world had been everything, hadn’t it? Nearly got a stake for her trouble when she refused to adapt to that alternative dimension, didn’t she? But what Kendra had in her favor was tenacity, and that was admirable. She watched as her feral Kitty and the second Slayer stared each other down like roosters ready to let fly with the spurs.

The maddoggin’, Willow surmised, as she and the Watchers watched silently, could go on for quite a while, but Kendra was human. She was going to have to blink soon. Or take a pee break.

The sudden entry of the lesser White Hats decided the mutual stand down of the ‘Glare of Death’ contest.

“Oh,” Nancy uttered, as she, Larry, Oz, and Amy halted at the library doors. “We...interrupt something?”

Kendra just continued to stare at Tara, her eyes narrowing. Tara toned down her own glare to a look of some amusement.

“That’s a vampire,” Oz accused. The young man stepped quickly down the steps as if to prepare for an attack.

“Yes,” Willow agreed. “The one who killed...all the bad werewolves,” she added with disingenuous, wide eyes. A small smile quirked her lips as she stared at Oz.

The young man bristled slightly. Willow had not forgotten that he had tried his best to kill her that night at the factory.

Kendra remained before Tara long enough for the others to hurry past behind her and take their respective seats. Then she gave Tara one last, meaningful glare and followed.

“All five of the rogue werewolves?” Wesley asked curiously.

“Yes,” Willow answered. “And your bad mountain lion too, Kendra,” the red haired vampire gave to the Jamaican Slayer. Kendra looked at her in surprise--and with a touch of ill concealed disappointment.

“We’re gonna make a rug out of it,” Willow pleasantly informed the room at large.

There wasn’t even a smart assed reply. An awkward silence fell. When Willow got something done for these people she never received a ‘thank you’, much less a grudging acknowledgment. It was the strangest paradox; here they were, enemies, still in hate with each other, and still they made the vampire work for them. If it weren’t for that pain in the ass, Papa Bear Slayer, Buffy--

Who at that moment, chose to enter in Summers Slayer fashion, conveniently interrupting Willow’s resentful thoughts. The Buffinator was all golden sun-girl energy, cold yet shiny, carefree yet calculative. And decked in expensive leather coat, pants, silk and heeled boots. Obviously it was ‘Cordelia and Dinner’ night.

“Hey guys!” she said cheerfully, as she clicked loudly down the steps. The bang of the library doors that had preceded her entrance still shuddered the walls.

“Got a dinner date, so let’s make this quick,” she announced. She stopped in her approach and turned a little to give Tara a casual up-and-down glance. Buffy looked almost like she were idly checking the new vampire out.

She smiled. Tara actually smiled back.

“You’re right,” Buffy commented. She turned to glance at Willow. “It is different.”

Willow said nothing. She didn’t want to explain anything to the curious Watchers about what the Slayer had referred to. She also hadn’t realized how tense she’d become when Buffy entered the room.

Tara, for her part, had her cold attention solely on the eldest, and obviously most powerful Slayer. She was utterly fascinated by this petite, shiny killer.

Buffy turned back to her, her expression humorous, but equally cold.

“No killing innocents,” she instructed the new vampire slowly, as if speaking to a very small child.

Tara’s blue eyes slid to where Kendra and Faith sat across from Willow, then returned to look at Buffy again.

“They’re not innocent,” she remarked, a slight smile on her generous mouth. Wesley could be heard dropping his pen.

Buffy glanced thoughtfully at her sister Slayers.

“You’re right,” she remarked. She returned her attention to Tara. “And neither am I.”

“B’--”

“Buffy.” Came Giles’ and Faith’s voice together in caution. Buffy gave a little sigh, and smiled at the new vampire like they were sharing an inside joke.

“No killing White Hats,” Buffy further instructed, her voice humorous, but her eyes hard.

“Even,” Tara said softly. She closed her blue eyes demurely and opened them again. “If they’re bad?”

Buffy looked a little intrigued.

“If Buffy says,” the Slayer simply answered cryptically. She swung casually away, conversation ended. She went to grab a chair at the research table and threw herself into it. She studied her finely manicured nails. Larry took that as a cue to loudly enthuse about the donuts brought in. People rose quickly from their seats to grab a snack or drink and Amy sidled quickly over to where Willow sat.

The witch laid down a hot chocolate before the vampire. When Willow glanced up to look into her face, she saw the stark fear in Amy’s eyes.

Not fear of Willow herself, or perhaps even of Buffy. It was fear of the new witch in the room.

Willow shook her head imperceptibly, a warning in her green eyes. Amy couldn’t blab about this yet. Not before Willow could find out more and...find out what she should not allow the Slayer to know.

In their brief eye contact, Amy seemed to understand. She returned to her usual seat as the room settled down, and Giles began to speak.

With everyone’s attention on the Watcher, Tara stepped slowly from her far wall position and silently headed Willow’s way. She strolled with a casual, womanly grace, deliberately passing near the back of Buffy’s chair. As she reached it, Buffy stopped studying her manicure and suddenly propped her heeled boots up. Hands folded across her silk shirted abdomen, Buffy stared with intense interest at Willow.

“Did you forget to put more clothes on your girl?” she asked frankly, obviously referring to Tara’s ‘dishabille’ beneath the dress. The feral vampire paused in passing behind her chair.

“No Buff. Tara dressed herself,” Willow answered innocently. Her dead heart practically jumped when the Slayer had referred to Tara as ‘her girl’. Was that approval? the vampire wondered desperately. Or was it more Slayer mockery?

Tara took the edge of her lacey shawl and trailed it along the back of the Slayer’s chair. She continued walking again. The fabric lightly caressed the Slayer as it ran along the back. Buffy smiled at Willow, ignoring Tara’s playfulness, and the red haired vampire was suddenly aware of what a powerful picture the Slayer made; confident and gleaming, with a beautiful, soft woman behind her, teasing her with a bit of clothing.

“Tara, huh?” the Slayer commented. A silver ringed fist met her chin thoughtfully. Willow suddenly recalled the time when the Slayer had told her why she liked wearing her rings; it make breaking teeth that much easier.

Tara rounded the table’s corner and finally stopped behind Willow’s chair. She placed her hands on Willow’s leather shoulders and caressed them.

“Tara,” Buffy addressed, looking up at the feral vampire. “Who am I?”

“You’re the Slayer,” Tara answered simply, her hands running up, then down the front of Willow’s slender shoulders again. The touch was very soothing. And possessive.

Buffy looked pleased. Tara had made her statement like it were fact. Not even a hint of malice.

“Good girl,” Buffy praised.

* * *

The meeting came and went. Willow couldn’t even remember what it was about. Tara slowly massaged her all the while, and the often present ache that was her right shoulder was finally rubbed away. Willow surprisingly found herself truly at ease, no longer feeling penned in by the goody White Hats and their demanding ways. She had someone on her side now.

“I want to know something,” Oz had said, and Willow had remembered that part of the meeting because Oz never usually spoke at all. He had been staring at Tara with a ferocity that could have ignited, and Willow was certain it wasn’t because he could see the blonde vampire’s boobs.

“Is she going to kill more wolves?” he had demanded.

“I think she has a right to,” Willow had merely answered for Tara, who reassuringly embraced Willow’s shoulders. “Wolves murdered her, after all.”

“Raped too,” Tara had simply added.

Willow’s accompanying sigh had been genuine. No feigned, emotional theatric on her part. Her own death had not been pretty as well.

Oz said nothing more after that. He no longer looked at Tara either.

When the meeting finally ended, the Slayer fun didn’t, however.

“Ken, Faith, stay,” Buffy ordered as the lesser White Hats skedaddled. Buffy merely looked at Willow, and the vampire knew she wouldn’t be allowed to clear out of the room either.

“Will, go into Giles’ office. I want Ken and Faith to get a read on your girl.”

“I want to stay!” Willow blurted. Tara alone with three Slayers? she mentally protested. Not gonna happen!

“Will,” Buffy answered tolerantly. “It won’t work with you here. Nothing’s going to happen to Tara. Now scoot.”

Willow looked at her feral girl, wanting to be reassured. Tara winked at her.

Very reluctantly, Willow walked over to Giles’ office and entered, while both Watchers looked on curiously.

“Tara, stand over there,” Buffy ordered, indicating the center of the library common. As Tara did so, Buffy directed her sister Slayers into position.

“We gonna fight?” Faith asked, cracking her knuckles in emphasis.

“You wish,” Buffy retorted lightly. “Okay guys,” she addressed. “Tell me what you’re sensing.”

“Vamp,” Faith answered.

“Vampire,” Kendra solemnly agreed. Buffy glanced back at Tara.

“Get Willow, stay in the office,” she instructed.

When Willow came out she looked exasperated.

“This won’t work!” she hissed at the Slayer. “You’re eldest, you’ve had your powers longest!”

“Time to educate the young’ns, then,” the Slayer answered cheerfully. “Okay, now what do you guys feel,” she asked, when she had Willow before the other Slayers.

“Vamp,” Faith shrugged.

“Vampire,” Kendra said slowly, but she was looking at Buffy like she wasn’t liking something.

“Will, get your girl and stay--”

“I know I know,” Willow groused.

When Willow left and Tara returned, gliding along with all the sinister casualness of a strangely scary Ophelia, Kendra suddenly stomped away.

The Jamaican Slayer stomped her angry way right out of the library.

“Ken!” Buffy called after her. “Crap.” She turned quickly to point at everyone in the room. “Nobody moves,” she warned, looking especially at Tara. Buffy then ran after the Second Slayer.

Tara laughed and ran back to Willow.

“I thought she said not to move,” Willow observed in mock chastisement, as Tara impulsively picked up the redhead in the Watcher’s office and spun her around. Willow giggled.

“She’s not the boss of me,” Tara answered defiantly. She laid Willow back on the Watcher’s desk and kissed her. The aggressive tension between herself and the three Slayers tonight had made her excited and horny.

“Hm Erm,” came the polite, and loud clearing of a male throat in the doorway. Tara and Willow glanced back.

“Wanna join us, Ripper?” Willow enticed with a cute, innocent smile. She emphasized her invitation with a slight arch of her slender body on his desk.

“Thank you, but no,” Giles answered wryly. “If you ladies would please.” He stepped back and indicated that they should leave.

Tara stood up and took Willow by her one hand, wanting to continue their activity where a Watcher wouldn’t feel territorial. As Tara led her out, Willow smirked at Giles.

“Another time, then,” she teased softly.

The female vampires left his office, and Giles shook his head in dark humor. Ripper would have definitely enjoyed that, he knew.

* * *

Buffy nearly ran past Kendra while the second Slayer stood on Sunnydale High’s front lawn.

“Ken, talk to me,” Buffy said, as she rounded back to the Jamaican Slayer.

“Dis is wrong!” Kendra snapped at Buffy. The first Slayer had to lean back in surprise from the outburst. Whoa, Buffy thought. It was a rare night on the Hellmouth when Kendra got shook up like this.

“Okay, so you felt it too, right?” Buffy tried to surmise, watching Ken glower at the lawn. “The spidey-sense is different with her. It’s not as completely dark. Still a vamp, but almost like it’s m--”

“No,” Kendra denied, cutting Buffy sharply off. “Don’t say it. Don’t you even think it,” she warned. She looked practically ready to take Buffy on if she disagreed.

Buffy held up her hands. They were friends. Comrades bonded in bloodlettings and battles a person should never have to experience. It took alot to provoke Ken. This new knowledge--that she, Faith, and Buffy, could actually have a touch of whatever it was that Tara was--this was obviously hurting her.

Buffy silently led a reluctant Ken to the curb, and they sat down.

“Will thinks she feels like that because she hasn’t killed anyone innocent yet,” Buffy finally gave, after a moment of allowing Kendra some thought time.

“Me stake’s for dem all, equally,” Kendra answered, her voice hard but tinged with pain. “I cannot waste time thinking, ‘dat one, maybe I should not’, ‘dat one, I should stake’. Dey come out of the graves having never tasted blood yet. We still stake dem.”

“That’s true.”

“It’s not a full vampire,” Kendra assessed darkly. “But she’s a vampire still.”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Kendra looked at Buffy, her eyes fierce and sorrowful.

“You are not like dat,” she stated. Buffy laughed. It was humorless.

“Ken, you met me at my darkest time. Don’t lie,” Buffy retorted. She turned away and looked out at the black, empty lot.

“You are human. You have changed. I cannot think of dat creature as the same.”

“It may surprise us.”

Kendra let out an exasperated sound. She stood up.

“While she is with the Willow vampire, unlikely,” she further stated. “You are too interested in their kind.” She offered her hand, helping Buffy up. “You should pay more attention to your own, mon.”

“You talking about Faith? What’s she done now?”

Kendra merely shook her head. Buffy, for some reason, was always hardest on the youngest Slayer. “You are not like dem,” the Jamaican Slayer reassured again, and squeezed Buffy on the arm. She turned away, ready to work off her frustrations in a patrol. That was all the girl talk she could handle for one night. She jogged away.

Buffy stood in the empty, cold lot, and watched her friend go.

“How to explain it, Ken. It doesn’t just go away,” the Slayer said softly. “I’m still that dark Buffy.”

* * *

Tara settled in Red Hair’s chair and placed Red Hair securely in her lap. The youngest Slayer had apparently disobeyed the eldest’s order and was conspicuously absent. Tara could not sense her within the library proper.

“Tea?” she heard the elder Watcher politely ask the younger one. Willow was reaching for the styrofoam cup on the table. It was chocolate.

“Why did the witch give you that?” Tara whispered into Willow’s ear.

“I saved her daddy’s life,” Willow whispered back. “She’s who I learn magic from.” Willow brought the hot cup carefully up to Tara’s lips. There was already a sip hole in the plastic top.

“Don’t want that,” Tara refused, still whispering.

“Don’t be a baby,” Willow shushed. “It’s yummy. Try it.”

Giles and Wesley discreetly observed as Willow gently fed Tara hot chocolate.

“Mm. More.” Tara demanded, forgetting to whisper. Willow obligingly tipped the cup again.

“So you do genuinely enjoy food,” Wesley mused, full of Watcher fascination. “What else have you eaten?”

“I, I believe it’s best we leave that question for another time,” Giles hastily suggested. He really didn’t want to hear Willow’s answer to that inane question. “I would like to know what that demonstration with Kendra and Faith was about, earlier, however.”

“That’s for Buffy to tell,” Willow evaded. She placed her now empty cup back on the table, her severed arm resting on the blonde vampire’s shoulder in an inadequate embrace. Giles had never seen her use her handicapped limb before. The vampire liked to project a very sinister, threatening presence. It had become easy to forget she was actually disabled.

“Yeah, me to tell, but later,” Buffy answered, bursting into the room. “Gotta jet, Cordy’s waiting. Hey, where’s Faith?” she frowned. “Let me guess. She said fuck it, I’m gone?”

“She’s bad,” Tara murmured, snuggling a little into Willow’s chest.

“And you’re such good vampires, waiting for me,” Buffy teased. She spoke to them like they were pet dogs. Pet dogs who had brought her paper and slippers.

Tara turned her face from Willow’s front and gave Buffy a silent snarl. Willow only ignored the Slayer’s remark. She had long grown weary of Buffy’s patronizing taunts.

“Is there anything else?” Willow asked. She liked to keep it cool in front of the Watchers but she couldn’t hide the irritation from her voice.

“Nope. So out you go. Go play now,” Buffy indicated with a curt gesture of her head.

Scowling, Tara picked Willow up into her arms. The Slayer was an ass. No wonder her Red Hair was depressed.

“We’ll have lots of fun,” she whispered deliberately to Willow, knowing the Slayer could hear. It cheered her Red Hair up. It made her smile. Tara walked up the stairs pass the Slayer.

“Have a nice dinner, Buff,” Willow bade sweetly from Tara’s arms.

* * *

Tara took Willow’s keys when they got to the car. She drove them back to the Bronze. They lapsed into an easy silence during the drive, one that was soothing and calm and not at all boring, or even preoccupied by the usual internal babble of Willow-thoughts. Willow looked at Tara and saw the serenity of her face as she drove.

How unlike a demon you sometimes are, Willow thought. Again, she became aware of that faint, fleeting undercurrent to Tara’s darkness that spoke of something more. She wondered when the other vampire would bring up the subject of the Slayer’s mysterious test.

And what exactly had freaked Amy out, back in the library? Willow idly recalled. Was the vibe of a vampire witch that scary? Amy wouldn’t be teaching Willow if that were the case. At some point Willow had to safely broach the subject of how strong a witch Tara might be. They could not hide this fact from the Slayer forever.

When they reached the Bronze, Tara drove passed it and pulled the car alongside an empty, unpaved lot. The redhead exited the car in bemusement as Tara ran among the junk in the lot and retrieved a cement block, a metal trash can lid, and weedy, dry brush.

“Wait!” Willow squeaked, when it looked like Tara intended to spring her car trunk open by force. The red haired vampire retrieved her keys from the ignition and helpfully opened the trunk. She watched as Tara snatched up a Tribal Goddess bag that contained a couple of bundles of sage. She dumped the contents out in the trunk, picked out a bundle, and then grabbed the cooler. She dumped the mountain lion’s heart out, along with the ice.

Willow winced. It was a good thing she used artificial ice packs and not real ice. While she quietly put the blue packs back in their igloo, she watched her feral girl set up an impromptu altar with her junk findings. Tara socked the lid a bit, making it into a deeper bowl.

“Oh,” Willow breathed. “A sacrifice?” Tara didn’t answer. She placed broken bricks, sage, and dry brush in the battered trash lid and securely placed that on top of the cement block. The blonde vampire then set something mossy and dry inside the hubcap and placed a stick into it between her palms. Rubbing with vampiric speed, she twirled the stick to a blur.

When Willow was a little human girl, she didn’t want to join the Brownies or Girl Scouts because she was afraid of testing her frog phobia while doing the woodsy camping thing. But she did watch her share of nature programs, and she understood that her feral Kitty was trying to start a fire with just a little stick.

“I’ve got a car lighter,” Willow piped up. She rose from the car bumper she’d been leaning against, eager to help. “Let me--”

Whoosh! flared the sudden tiny, smoky flame beneath Tara’s rapidly working hands. Tara used a little dead air from her lungs to ignite it further. Car lighter forgotten, Willow slowly leaned back again, easily distracted by the sight of pursed, puffing Kitty-lips. The fire erupted into hungry existence, dancing eagerly.

“Ooo. Extra-flamey,” Willow admired.

Tara knelt before the fire and fed it, her lips moving silently all the while. The strong scent of sage drifted about her and rose into the cool, night air. Willow took a deep breath.

When the fire was finally hot enough, Tara stood up and slowly unwrapped the mountain lion’s heart.

The bloody butcher paper fluttering down, Tara held the heart high to the Moon. She mouthed secret words of invocation and supplication. She swayed around the fire and stepped with reverence into each of the Four Corners. She spun slowly and became the Circle making the Cycle, waxing then waning. She gave honor, she gave praise. She asked to be embraced. She lowered her arms and placed her gift in the fire.

The fire leapt and roared. It ate the heart hungrily. Tara raised her stained hands and gave silent thanks.

The ritual ended, Tara turned to look at her Red Hair, who had taken everything in with big, wondrous eyes and a cute little ‘o’ to her equally cute mouth. Red Hair’s bright eyes met hers, and Tara knew she was unsure if it was safe to speak. Tara nodded with a crooked grin, encouraging.

“Who was that for?” Willow asked very softly, as Tara approached her.

Tara pointed to the crescent Moon, and then laid a stained hand on her chest.

“Can...can I do stuff like that too?” came Willow’s shy words. She was seduced by what she’d witnessed. She wanted to somehow participate in this part of Tara too. But could she? She was evil after all. More demon than Tara.

Tara nodded solemnly, and Willow felt joy. She also felt firm hands on her cheeks as Tara leaned in to kiss her.

“What are you going to do now?” Willow asked when the kiss ended. Perhaps there was more secret Goddess stuff to be done. Tara wiped Willow’s cheeks clean of heart’s blood with her flimsy shawl. She then playfully draped it around Willow’s shoulders and neck.

“Celebrate,” she answered with a smile.

The fire cracked and flicked behind them. The odors of burnt meat, smoke, and sage billowed in the air. Tara picked Willow up, settled her inside the open trunk, and climbed in after her. She spooned in behind the redhead, both of them facing the fire. Her hands glided around and began unbuttoning Willow’s coat. She pushed it down enough to trap Willow’s arms, even her severed one.

She did the same to the pretty, deep red, long sleeved rayon top Willow wore, pulling it down just enough to reveal creamy, white shoulders. She tongued the freckles. She unbuttoned the front only halfway, enough to peel the lapels back and reveal Willow’s breasts to the night air. The nipples tightened. Willow gasped.

Tara unbuttoned Willow’s pants. She pushed them down. She pushed further, she wanted to see Willow’s cute ass. She flicked Willow’s long coat out of the way and pressed her crotch against the bared, rounded flesh.

Willow cried out as Tara penetrated her cunt from behind. With her other hand, Tara knowingly teased between Willow’s legs in front and slipped her fingers along the slick slit.

“S-Someone--might see!” Willow protested weakly, as Tara fingered her. She actually didn’t care if they were caught, she was just playing her part as helpless female. Tara merely growled. She spread Willow with her front hand and tapped her clit. Willow jerked. The way the blonde vampire was touching her tonight, Willow knew it was going to be an infuriating kind of torture.

“Goddess sees,” Tara corrected, listening to Willow whimper and feeling her jerk in her arms again. She wanted to work her Red Hair up. Give her so much torturous attention, then grant a nicely drawn out release. If her Willow agreed to it, that is.

“Dedicate your pleasure to the Goddess,” Tara encouraged softly, pressing her lips to Willow’s ear just as she pressed her fingers inside her further.

“Wh, What?” Willow gasped.

“Share your pleasure with the Goddess,” Tara murmured. “Give her the depth of your dedication. Do you want to cum now, or cum in due time?”

“I-In time,” Willow gave, pushing her ass back into Tara’s hand despite her words.

“Do you want to be pleasured easily, or do you want to earn it?”

Willow made tiny, desperate noises, as she felt Tara’s fingertips tease further within her folds. This was going to be torture, she knew it. Tara tapped her again, and Willow arched, her exposed body white in the partial moonlight.

“Be a good sacrifice. Look at the Moon,” came the soft, seductive words at her ear.

Willow gazed up desperately to where the crescent Moon was. At that moment, she felt she could see her Tara there.

“Earn it!” she cried.

Tara’s blunt teeth took hold of Willow’s neck, imposing dominance. Her fingers fucked Willow slowly, infuriatingly, always inside her, always manipulating her, never satisfying her. Other fingers continued to stroke, play, and lightly touch her at their willful caprice. It continued on and on like that, feral will imposing upon and dominating her helpless, needy flesh. Before the partial face of the Moon, Willow thought she must be a sight to see, just yearning breasts and inflamed cunt and throbbing, electrified clit. Finally, Willow began sobbing, her body struggling against her trapped clothing for blissful release.

“Look at the fire, look at it,” Tara instructed, when she finally freed a trembling Willow from her firm bite. She thrust harder. The trunk began rocking. “When its embers, you can cum.”

Willow shook, her chest just ragged gasps, and watched the world jiggle up and down. She endured the agony of Tara’s touch until the last lick of flame flickered out.

She came with a scream, cum rushing from her in an explosive spurt.

* * *

“Ohhh....” Willow moaned softly, as she heard Tara behind her, sucking her fingers a little noisily. “I never...done that before...”

“Yummy,” Tara stated with satisfaction. She worked Willow’s shirt and coat back up, releasing the red haired vampire’s arms, and then gently pushed Willow to her back. She moved down and began licking Willow’s pussy clean.

“Was,” Willow breathed, looking down at Kitty’s tawny head. “Was that good?”

Tara glanced up from her task, smiling wetly. Her blue eyes arced up to the sky and then back to Willow.

“Look up,” she encouraged. Willow did. The Moon actually looked brighter, a real super glow. The kind of after-mindblowing orgasmic sex-glow that Willow was experiencing right then.

“Yay me,” she murmured with a happy, goofy grin.

Tara carried Willow back inside the club, and all the shopping bags too. Willow could not believe that sex in a car trunk had left her in such a state of peace and sated satisfaction. But it hadn’t just been a raunchy fuck in a trunk--it had been sex with a purpose, a kind of sacred sex. Willow was quite happy to have her body used as an instrument in her feral Kitty’s Goddess dedication.

Tara set Willow down on her bed, removed her long leather coat, and helpfully hung it up for her. Then she industriously put her Kitty muscle to work moving Willow’s armoire to the front of her door.

“You need to feed,” Willow pointed out from the bed, as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt with her one hand. Tara frowned to herself, as if mentally asking how she could have forgotten something as Essential as that, and proceeded to move the armoire back to where she found it.

“You can take from me,” Willow suggested softly. She dropped her shirt aside and languidly kicked off her boots. Her lips curled at the corners in a little grin. “Unless you’d rather--”

Tara ceased her furniture moving and quickly pounced on Willow.

“Ah ah ah,” Willow admonished, and gave Tara a quick little smack on the end of her nose. Feral Kitty immediately backed off. She stood before Willow, holding her nose. Willow continued to undress, pushing her pants down.

“These things have a proper way of being given,” she explained, as she finally kicked off the pants. She scooted naked up the bed. She laid back against the pillows with a sigh and settled herself comfortably. She smiled and held out her arms.

Like lightning, Tara took off all her clothes. She stood uncertainly at the edge of the bed however, with tousled hair, soft mouth, and unsure eyes. This was significant, she realized, and for the first time it made her lack confidence. It was possible she wasn’t even vampire enough for such a gift. She looked at the offered arms and Willow’s gentle, sweet smile, and Tara decided she could at least crawl up the bed and see what she should do next.

When Tara reached her, Willow reassuringly caressed the blonde vampire’s face and hair with her one hand. Feral Kitty was looking adorably nervous. Obviously this was her first time taking offered blood from Kin. Bites like these were even more intimate than sex.

“You’re not going to drain me,” Willow softly assured. “You have to have killing intentions to do that.”

Tara looked at her helplessly. Tara was Wild, she bit to kill--or maim at least. She’d never done a ‘controlled’ feeding before. She was very apprehensive. She thought about refusing this gift.

“Ever had your neck broken?” Willow asked her with a smile. Tara frowned and shook her head. “Well that’s what’s gonna happen if you try to kill me, okay? So no worries.”

Tara gently took hold of Willow’s severed arm and held it up. It was Willow’s turn to frown.

“Oh.” She needed two hands in order to effectively break Tara’s neck. She shrugged and took hold of worried Kitty’s face with her one hand. She looked intently into her blue eyes.

“I trust you,” she told her softly. Tara seemed about to protest, her mouth parting. Willow took firm hold of her face again. “I trust you,” she repeated, staring into Tara’s eyes.

Kitty finally nodded, eyelashes dropping.

Willow settled back and with her fingers trailed a path down her own neck.

“You can bite here,” she offered. She gently led Tara’s head to the spot.

Tara’s fangs sprang to life, aching for the bite. She’d always sensed Red Hair’s power beneath her skin. That power lured during the hunger, but even a wild thing like herself had a sense of propriety. To be allowed to freely drink now was a little scary. Instinct, however, demanded action. Tara bared her teeth above smooth, white skin and sank them in.

Willow felt Tara shudder against her as she fully sucked in her potent blood for the first time.

The quality of Tara’s bite was very no nonsense, Willow noted. Her fangs had penetrated deeply. Not too painfully rough, but not so gentle either. Kitty liked to leave her teeth in as she fed, which caused more digs of pain. Tara kept shuddering, and she began to breathe harshly against her skin. Willow held her close and stroked her reassuringly with her right limb.

“It’s all right, you’re doing fine...take more,” Willow encouraged softly. Tara’s teeth had already let go and now she was clumsily mouthing the wound, trying to suck what spilled. She still shook. She desperately mewled.

“Shhhhh,” Willow comforted. Sometimes the experience of the blood was overwhelming. She moved her slender thigh up and pressed it between Tara’s legs.

At the contact, Tara immediately came. She had another orgasm. Then another. It was too much, her fanged mouth convulsively clamped down on Willow’s throat again.

Willow cooed to Tara as more heady blood slid down her throat and Tara just could not stop cumming. When her mouth finally let go for a second time, she was too drunk, or too orgasmic, or too euphoric, or just plain too stoned to remain conscious. She collapsed against Willow and fell into a deep slumber.

Willow kissed unconscious Kitty on the top of her dark, golden head and smiled. Sleep was good for baby vampires after their first time.

* * *

When Tara awoke, someone was petting her head.

She was lying on top of Red Hair, head against her slender chest. Red Hair’s only hand was running through her messy strands. Tara was facing Red Hair’s half-arm side as it lay on the bed. It was holding an open magazine flat, West Coast Witch’s Quarterly. Tara used to buy that magazine.

Tara felt the very modest surge of magic that had awakened her. A page of the magazine flipped up, and then ever so slowly arced over until natural gravity grasped it and brought it down. Tara glanced up and saw the determined concentration on Willow’s face. That small act had taken some effort on the red haired vampire’s part. Willow broke focus and smiled down at Tara.

With the right training and practice, there would come a time when Red Hair would not even have to look to be able to flip the pages of a hundred books.

But Tara didn’t want to think about magic right then, although obviously it was something that fascinated the vampire who gently held her. Magic reminded Tara of what she once was and could no longer be and how the greater part of her was angry that she should even miss it. Complicated. Distraction was better.

Tara put her soft mouth to Red Hair’s neck, tonguing clean the areas where two bite marks used to be. All healed now, but all messy with spilled blood. Tara was embarrassed, she’d eaten like a baby. No wonder Willow hadn’t worried about getting killed. Blood like hers...Tara didn’t know how to describe it. It had tasted rich, it had tasted like power, and it had tasted very old. That was all Tara would say.

She slid down Red Hair’s body, rubbing it with her own. A proper thank you was in order. As a Wild One, words became inadequate where Tara was concerned. Her mouth said such things better in other...languages.

As she gently parted pale thighs and pushed her tongue into a now familiar home, she watched her pretty Red Hair sigh and hum contentedly, her magazine forgotten.

* * *

Red Hair was very pretty when she was sated.

After making Red Hair cum, Tara liked to spread the red haired vampire just so, and admire her handiwork. Tonight, however, she had to cut ‘Willow-pussy appreciation time’ short in order to take care of a few things. One, secure Lair. As she industriously moved the armoire back in front of the door, she mentally chastised herself for not finishing that task earlier. Two, put her new stuff away. She piled her shopping bags in a corner. She returned to the bed to push Red Hair’s legs apart again. Three, investigate everything in her new territory. She looked briefly inside every drawer, every door, and under the bed. She parted Red Hair’s legs again.

“Oh,” Red Hair pouted. “I feel so exposed.”

Contrary to her complaint, Red Hair arched on the bed and give Tara an even prettier view. Tara briefly contemplated orally revisiting Willow-land, but decided to take care of something first.

Willow sighed as her feral Kitty retrieved a blood bag from the mini-frig she’d investigated earlier, and showed it to the red haired vampire.

“I am hungry,” Willow admitted. She looked embarrassed up at her Kitty. “I hardly hunt anymore, that’s why I have these,” she further apologized. “I sometimes partially feed in movie theaters, it’s the only place where the Slayers don’t know where I am and leave me alone.”

Tara tossed the bag aside. She had wanted to make an offer but wasn’t sure how to say it. She wasn’t as old as Willow, she had no idea who sired her, and she was probably making a big vampire etiquette faux pas. Well, she was born in a forest, so that would be her excuse. Tara hesitantly patted her neck. She bit her lip apprehensively as she looked at Red Hair.

“I’d love to,” Willow accepted graciously. “But are you sure?” Tara had not looked very confident about offering her own blood.

Tara patted her neck more firmly this time. Yes, she was very sure.

“Okay,” Willow agreed. “Can you...keep the bag first? It’ll go bad lying on the floor.”

When she’d done as told, Tara eagerly climbed up the bed to Willow. She sat demurely next to Red Hair and waited.

“Hmm,” Willow smiled. Kitty was such a lovely creature. Doe-eyed, soft mouthed, hair of touchable honey. She was the perfect girl-picture of sensual innocence, all round, soft shapes and buxomy femininity. It was probably these qualities that had gotten her killed, just as Willow’s own sweet innocence had made a vampire toy and meal out of her.

Let’s make it a little game,” Willow breathily suggested. A game yes, and it would serve to teach her baby Kitty a different kind of hunting. “Wanna see how I seduce a meal?”

Kitty made big, blue eyes at her. She was definitely interested.

“You be the unsuspecting human, and I’ll be the bad, scary vampire.”

“No,” Tara said. Then she laughed.

What do you mean, no, and ‘ha ha’?” Willow asked, mildly offended. “I’ve been at this scaring business alot longer than you, Missy!”

Tara rolled her eyes. Not at Willow, but at herself. Since Rising, she hadn’t been scared of anything. Not even the Slayers.

“Eeeeee,” she tried to demonstrate. Nope, she couldn’t do ‘scared’. It was Red Hair’s turn to laugh. She gave Tara an enigmatic, knowing smile.

“There are different ways to be scared,” Willow whispered. “Different ways for things to getcha. You never know what might unsettle you,” she gave, and it sounded just like she was telling Tara a secret.

“Now,” she continued, moving herself off the bed. Tara watched her, wondering what Red Hair would do next. “You’re at a club. You’re at the bar, you have a drink. You’re hoping someone will ask you to dance. You hope it’s someone you don’t have to say ‘no’ too. You notice me, watching you.” Red Hair stopped at the edge of the bed, her body facing sideways. She turned her head slightly to watch Tara, her mouth quirked in a little smile. Tara could imagine Red Hair standing just like that, perhaps beside a pillar, half hidden, half revealed. A vision of mystery. “And you might be creepied out,” Willow continued breathlessly, never taking her eyes off Tara. “Or you might think I’m pretty. Either way, I let you know I think you’re pretty too.” Willow’s little smile broadened. She began to move.

“I’d strike up a conversation,” she gave, as she slowly rounded the bed. “Doesn’t matter what my line is. What matters is that I eventually touch you. What matters is that you feel the need to touch me too.” Red Hair lightly trailed her fingers down one of Tara’s arms, and took hold of her hand. Tara returned the embrace of those slender fingers. Willow coaxed her gently from the bed. “And maybe you’ll come when I lead you, or maybe you’ll be the one to demand, ‘let’s go’,” Willow grinned. She began leading Tara around the bed. “And it doesn’t matter where we end up,” she added softly, glancing back, as if to check if Tara were still following--or was still willing. “Whether in the alley, or in your car, or even at your apartment. You’ll want one thing, but then you’ll come to realize,” Willow whispered, leading them both to sit slowly down on the other side of the bed. “That I want something else.”

“You’ll see it in my eyes,” Willow continued softly, staring into Tara’s as she used her one hand to lightly caress her. “Some vampires prefer deceit, but I like letting you know...you’ve brought a monster inside...you’ve brought it close; close enough to take you.” Willow leaned in, holding Tara’s hand tight to her, and Tara realized that though she could probably easily pull away, she felt trapped. She had fallen under the aura of menace and control Willow had woven.

“I could kill you, you know that,” Willow breathed softly against her face. “But something else can make me just as happy, instead. You know what that is. So would you like to give a donation, little girl? Share a little of your life essence with me? You don’t have to be afraid,” Willow whispered, staring into Tara’s eyes as she lowered her to the bed. “Just to please me.”

And Willow bared Tara’s neck and sank her teeth into her.

Tara gave a soft cry, and it was one of astonishment, of excitement from the atmosphere Willow had woven, and of pleasure from the pain of her first intimate bite. The bite that had Remade her was one that she could not recall. She had been dying then, barely aware. This, where she lay beneath Willow’s grip just like her human victims, this was a ‘death’ as well. Willow had laid her across the corner of the bed, the length too short and leaving Tara’s head to hang over the edge. It gave her a feeling of helplessness just as it allowed Willow complete access to her throat. The bite had been silky and swift and utterly dominating. Tara felt taken.

And Willow moaned at her throat, taking great pleasure in her blood. She suckled happily, every sound she made was sweet and sexy. Tara gasped and wondered about Willow’s real victims; would they take reluctant pleasure in the act too, or would they only feel violated?

Tara was a vampire now, she loved it. And she knew that when she practiced this herself, she could easily kill an innocent while doing so. A very dark part of her rose up and wanted that.

* * *

Early that morning, an hour or so before dawn, they were both sated from sex and shared blood. Tara was finishing an intricate mendhi pattern on Red Hair’s feet with one of the henna tattoo kits. Red Hair softly asked the question Tara didn’t want to hear.

“Do you want to know what the Slayer was trying to do last night?”

It was silly. When Tara was human, she had a secret--the one where she had thought she would become a demon. Now she had another, and she did not want to discuss this secret either because it was just as bad. The Slayer and her Red Hair already suspected that she wasn’t complete; Tara did not want to get into the discussion of why. Her being somehow in-between ‘sort of good’ and ‘mostly evil’ just sucked.

“No.” she simply replied.

* * *