‘Slayer in Shadow’

The story of Buffy Anne Summers’ life went something like this: grew up in California, parents got divorced, she got Called, Watcher got killed, Mom got killed (supposedly), disobeyed Council, went after ancient vamp Kakistos, killed Kakistos, end of story.

Buffy sometimes wished the story had ended right there. It would have meant a very short, violent life but it made sense, it had meaning, and it omitted all the events ever since that Buffy knew were because of her choices. Buffy killed Kakistos and Kakistos had killed her.

“Ooo look at that,” Buffy pointed out to Cordy. It was night and they were out on the restaurant’s balcony overlooking Sunnydale Marina. Moored yachts bobbed languidly in the dark distance. Buffy wasn’t indicating the tranquil view though; she was pointing out the quaint little cigar shop on the boardwalk below that was still lit up. Customers lounged outside, laconically puffing away.

“I threw all your cigarettes out,” Cordy answered flatly.

“You and Mom,” Buffy added cheerfully. “Never tried a cigar before but you have. Show me?” she wheedled in her cutest Summers voice. Her gorgeous, tall Cordy might be a bitch--and one of the ‘know it all, done it all’ wealthy Chases--but she could never resist her Slayer girlfriend’s charms. At least Buffy believed so.

Cordy tried not to grin and failed. “You have such bad habits, Buffy,” she complained.

“And you’re one of them,” Buffy seductively praised. She gave her girlfriend a naughty pinch on the ass. Cordy didn’t slap her hand this time, she just laughed. She allowed Buffy to lead her down from the restaurant’s second level for the outside.

Of the many things that became what they eventually became in Buffy’s short life, her bad habits were the least that Cordy had to fix. Before Cordy came along, Kendra was the one who had to fix Buffy’s humanity. Buffy Anne Summers just wasn’t the same when the Council brought her back from the dead. She came back and she didn’t really have it all together. You’re dead, then suddenly you’re not dead. Not only had it been disorientating, it really messed with a girl’s head. Buffy basically told the Council to fuck off when they ordered her to kill the Master--which was why they’d resurrected her in the first place. She terrorized the demons of Cleveland--the city she’d been resurrected in--instead. She went on a.....spree. She took care of the Council’s wet works teams when they came for her. She still had the trophies from those encounters. Like she told Kendra when the Jamaican Slayer finally went after Buffy herself: Buffy believed she came back wrong.

“Hmmm,” Buffy appreciated, as she eyed the fat, smoking cigar between her fingers. “I can get used to these.”

“I can’t believe you’re your mother’s daughter,” Cordy admonished lightly. She’d bought Buffy only one sample of the best the cigar shop had to offer, but Buffy was hoping she could maybe get two more to hide at home when the night was through.

“I used to be a good girl, you know,” Buffy answered, thoughtfully puffing. “Very health-conscious. Beer bad. I ate alot of yogurt.”

“Yeah,” Cordy murmured. Her bright eyes dimmed with that distant, sad look they sometimes had, and Buffy knew she was remembering the original reality she’d come from. “I remember.”

“So,” Buffy said cheerfully. A rapid subject change was in order. “What’s the plan for this weekend?”

“Not bungee jumping, not sky diving, not car racing, not alligator wrestling, not,” and Queen C wrinkled her nose at the activity she was about to mention that she had found so distasteful. “...paintballing,” she ended on an ‘ewwww’ tone.

“That was fun,” Buffy sighed. “And I don’t feel like repeating the others. How about shark hunting?” she suggested brightly. “Us, a boat, blue skies, creatures with many sharp teeth?”

“You,” Cordy smiled ruefully. “Have such a death wish.”

Buffy only smiled. She took another drag on the fat cigar and briefly indulged in its harsh, nicotine rush. People were obliviously strolling up and down the marina tonight, completely enjoying themselves. The cigar shop’s tables were full. No sea monsters. No screams. Oh well.

“Sex and shopping for the weekend then,” she decided perkily, and ignored Cordy’s exasperated huff at her typical frankness in public. “For the indoor activities we can play madam President,” she slyly suggested, exhaling and trying to make a sexy, smoke ring. She failed miserably. It came out more a square. “And y’know....with her pretty, naive intern?” Buffy wiggled the cigar suggestively. “Can you wear that power suit you got in the back of your closet? It’ll really show off your legs,” she enthused.

“You are such a pig, Buffy,” Cordy accused, but there was no genuine anger in the accusation. “And give me that. This is how you make a smoke ring.”

Buffy watched Cordy’s lips form the ‘o’ for the ring of smoke and noted the peaceful, quiet night behind her girlfriend. This was another thing Cordy understood that had changed about Buffy, because she’d known a more innocent version of Buffy Anne Summers where she’d originally come from, and could therefore compare. The Buffy who sat at this table tonight was no longer a nice girl. Cordelia might be a Chase--superficial, selfish, uncaring--but it didn’t mean she was stupid. She didn’t miss a thing. She recognized Buffy’s sexual darkness, which was more dangerous and more deep than anything anyone could even guess at or someone as promiscuous as Faith could even boast of having. Cordelia recognized that Buffy had interests like a vampire’s.

* * *

Willow woke that afternoon realizing that the Slayer had not come to visit.

Why did her first thought of the day have to be of that bitch? Willow realized sourly. It was like the Slayer had conditioned Willow to expect her presence. She had to wonder cattily if the Slayer had as much fun with Bitch C last night as Willow had with her luscious Kitty.

Willow kissed the nose of the dead asleep Kitty in question.

And had to duck as Tara-Cat suddenly swat the air with a paw hand, killing an imaginary fly dead. If Willow had been a fly she would have been very smooshed indeed. Well, Willow rationalized, making a mental note to keep away from a sleeping Kitty’s paws. That’s what happens when your lover is a former cave dweller. Nature had many bugs. Luckily, her Kitty hadn’t come with fleas.

Willow cautiously slid out of bed and went to take a quiet shower. Night o’ sex equaled funky Willow. She started the water and allowed certain thoughts to reenter her head.

Slayer, Slayer, Slayer, Willow contemplated, as she stood beneath warm shower rain and ran her one hand through her hair. She knew why she was thinking about the little alpha Slayer. It was like being in a clan again, except the Master was the Slayer in this case, and Willow was the childe who wasn’t sure if her new lover’s ass wasn’t going be Master-kicked up and down the clan Lair. Just for the hell of it, because that was what Masters did, and Buffy sure as hell acted like one. She didn’t know what to make of Buffy’s reaction to Tara last night.

I’m waiting for her to beat Kitty up, Willow rationalized. Maybe Buffy should have just taken care of it last night and been done with it, Willow further thought. She sighed heavily. She looked down at herself, covered in the pretty ornate tattoos Tara had attentively made on her feet, hand, and stumpy arm last night and couldn’t believe she was contemplating letting the Slayer beat up her beautiful girl. She really was a conditioned vampire. If she didn’t regard Buffy like a Master she’d happily--and viciously--take on the Slayer herself if she tried to touch Tara. Instead, they currently were one big happy Slayer Family and Willow was pretty much the pet vampire. She could do nothing but wait and see what Papa Slayer really thought of her new Kitty.

“RUFF,” came a face at the steamy glass and there was the abrupt smack of a pair of hands.

“EE!” Willow shrieked, and sent the sponge sailing. Shit, how embarrassing, she’d let Kitty startle her!

“Oh, you are going to get it,” she threatened angrily as a naked, wide awake, mischievous Kitty-pire entered the shower stall. “Bad Kitty,” Willow reprimanded. Tara approached, stalking her. Willow backed into glass.

“Monster in the shower,” Tara announced gleefully.

“No monster in the shower, just a Bad Kitty,” Willow corrected sternly. “Now don’t--you can’t do that!” she protested, as Tara firmly flipped her around, pressing Willow’s wet front to the cool glass. Her nipples squashed against the unyielding surface. Despite herself Willow let loose a shaky groan.

“Just did,” Tara cheekily replied. Her hands began feeling Willow up. They squeezed slick, Willow-butt cheeks has hard as they could. Willow writhed against the glass.

“Bad...you,” Willow scolded weakly. Kitty’s fondling was making her lose her mind. “S-Stop...stop that now. No, you mustn’t. I--I didn’t say you could!” Tara spread her legs and pushed fingers into her from behind. Willow arched against the glass, sliding breasts against it. “Oh, stop,” she managed to get out.

“Monster in the shower,” Tara sang happily, as her fingers began to fuck Willow slowly.

“Y-You--Evil, sex beastie. No...No...I said. Keep--keep away!” Tara pressed her own wet body into her from behind. Willow made a token effort of resisting. Tara responded by rubbing her wet breasts against her. “I’ll, I’ll scream,” Willow threatened feebly.

“Begging first, then screaming,” Tara instructed. She hummed as she moved her fingers iiiiiiin--hum dee dee--then ouuuuut. She felt like a very slow fuck was in order.

For the rest of the long, shower session, Willow hugged glass and said ‘no’ alot, stubbornly enduring another torturous round of Tara-hand. Feral Kitty, for her happy part, enjoyed leisurely punishing Willow-pussy. When Willow finally screamed--as she’d threatened--shaking from the pressure of Tara-fingers in all the right erogenous places, the glass beneath her was smeared in a juicy cum-fall of more than just water.

* * *

“That was fun,” Tara commented, as she held Willow close in their little, post-coital snugglefest in the bed. Sated Willow merely sighed contentedly. Orgasms and after-snuggles were very excellent therapy, it should be prescribed more. She hadn’t felt so good in such a long time.

“I didn’t get to wash my hair,” she mildly complained.

“You rubbed the glass all squeaky clean though,” Tara pointed out in a ‘hee hee’ voice. Willow harumphed. Yes, her boobs were kind of sore from all the shower glass squeegeeing.

“How’s your arm?” Tara asked. She ran fingers soothingly up and down the severed limb in question. It had gotten all achey when Kitty rode it again last night. Kitty had tried to get the slender limb inside her, which Willow had thought was pretty ambitious, because not only was Tara very tight and obviously unused to that kind of penetration, but Willow’s skinny arm was still pretty thick. It would be fisting without the fist.

“Not so achey anymore,” Willow assured, enjoying the gentle, massaging pressure. “We should go to the sex shop tonight and get a proper sized toy for you.”

“No, want Willow,” Tara refused.

“Well unless I magickally become a hermaphrodite overnight, a pretend little Willow will have to do,” Willow grinned. “Then we can work up to.” She merely nodded to the right arm in question. She really wasn’t interested in doing that with Tara, but Kitty seemed a bit obsessed with it for some reason. Willow could at least indulge her.

A slow, very crooked grin crept up feral Kitty’s face and Willow knew she was in for something naughty. Tara moved out from their embrace and knelt between Willow’s legs. She spread them and began moving her pelvis against Willow’s center, mimicking the ageless, love-rock motion of procreation.

“Toy for Willow too,” Tara demanded, her nose crinkling in glee.

“Oh? Didn’t your little hunt around the lair last night reveal the ones I already have?” Willow inquired lightly, enjoying the sight of Kitty air-fucking her. Kitty leaned in and licked her slowly on the nose.

“They didn’t say ‘Tara-cock’ to me,” Kitty whispered down at her. Willow laughed but she also couldn’t help her shiver of pleasure.

“Oh my bad, little Kitty,” Willow murmured, kissing Tara appreciatively.

* * *

Kitty might be a naughty, sexy thing in the bedroom, but otherwise she was quite an obedient baby vampire, and Willow was thankful for that. If Tara was willful, it was about small things, like the fact that her sandals always seemed to be absent from her feet when they were about to leave Willow’s personal lair. Kitty was a wild creature, and this gave her small quirks. Besides those quirks, she wasn’t conniving, she wasn’t very selfish, she wasn’t terribly self-interested, and she wasn’t impressively destructive in a very evil way, unlike Willow and Xander when they first Rose. However, Willow recognized that Kitty was untested; she came from the forest, she had been insulated. Her evil nature had never been given the opportunity to develop. What Willow was witnessing and delightfully experiencing was Kitty’s unique, baby vampire nature, and the elder vampire wished she could keep her Tara thus for just a little while longer.

“Why aren’t I interested in corrupting you?” Willow had to quietly ask herself as she made Tara change into a solid colored blouse rather than the silky, revealing one Kitty wanted to leave the lair in. Right now, she should be taking her Kitty out for her first innocent kill, not shopping for shoes and sex toys. Willow had had the best in evil with Master and Xander, and it had been fun. One would think she’d want to recreate that again.

Willow sighed. Despite what the White Hats believed--and which Willow allowed them to believe--she’d changed, she knew that. Consummate evil was ‘been there, done that’, and this was a new world. She didn’t even have the desire to take Tara and herself away from Sunnydale and restart some new, glorious, vicious life together. Then what would they do? Take over the world? Build more bloodsucking machines? The familiar emotions of betrayal and anger rose within her. Stupid.

Tara suddenly stood before her, and Willow was distracted by the sight of her big, soft chest beneath the tight, solid colored, creamy blouse that was buttoned only enough to keep it closed. It revealed Kitty’s soft, white tummy and the few scars that peeked from the waistband of her long, dark brown gypsy skirt.

“Okay?” Kitty asked, but she looked at Willow with a concern that had nothing to do with her choice of top.

“Very okay,” Willow smiled at her. No more depressing thoughts for Willow. She glanced down. “And where are your shoes?” she reminded again.

* * *

“Boss,” Rocky said to her as Willow descended her stairs. “Watcher on the phone.” Rock would have hung up on Ripper, Willow knew, but the fact that he held the phone at the ready for her meant that the Watcher had been persistent.

Willow took her lieutenant’s cell phone from his hand. Tara glided past her down the stairs and began investigating the layout of the empty club.

“Ripper,” Willow greeted breathily into the phone. “Reconsidered?”

“Willow,” came the Watcher’s voice in mild amusement. “Is Tara with you?”

“Oh yes,” Willow answered, watching her Kitty-girl inspect closed doors.

“Wyndam-Price and I are interested in interviewing her,” the Watcher continued. “We’d like further information about her origins. Buffy has briefly explained that Tara seems to be of a particular nature.” The Watcher’ voice was not at all demanding but the mild tone made Willow suspicious. Her eyes narrowed. She knew Ripper wasn’t as ‘librarian-mannered’ as he led people to believe. Wesley had genuine interest in new knowledge because he felt that each discovery furthered his career. Ripper didn’t give a rat’s ass about the Council, he was about the ‘greater good’. If Tara could be perceived at all as a threat he wouldn’t hesitate to arrange to have her killed.

“If you’d bring her in--”

No asking, just telling from ol’ Rip.

“Not interested. Tara is not a social study for you Watchers. Saying bye now,” Willow coldly answered and punched the phone off.

When she turned to give the phone back to Rocky, she saw that he was busy stoically staring down her Kitty, who was equally busy staring curiously up at her lieutenant. She was obviously taking more of his measure.

“If he calls again, tell him to fuck off. Expect the Slayer too, he might send her.”

Rock nodded solemnly and accepted the phone, but he didn’t take his eyes off Tara. Kitty only smiled back at him.

“Come, baby,” Willow beckoned, holding out her left hand. She looked down again. “And get your shoes,” she reminded.

Kitty sighed but ran back behind the bar where she’d left her sandals.

When Willow retrieved her car it was still light outside, but the front of her club was already covered in evening shadows. Tara safely got into the passenger side and Willow pointed the Volvo for Sunnydale’s shopping mall. Not a place she was fond of going to--too bright and cheery--but many of Sunnydale’s human denizens sought shopping refuge there, as if that sprawling, lit complex could keep them safe from the mysterious dangers of the night. Not only will she get her Kitty some more proper shoes, but it would serve as a test. She needed to get her feral girl acclimated to the presence of more human beings, and especially see if Kitty could resist killing them all.

“If we have to travel by day, we do it in the sewers,” Willow explained to her Kitty as she drove them to the mall. “Your bare feet aren’t going to like it down there.”

Tara sighed. Life in town. So stinky. “What did the Watcher want?” she asked. Not a question she wanted to ask, but she knew that Willow was going to be punished somehow for protecting her from the Slayer and her people.

“They’re just curious about you,” Willow softly answered. “Want to know your death, probably. Who sired you. What you’ve become.” Willow gave the last observation with a gentle sideways glance. She suspected that her Kitty did not entirely understand her own Becoming. Vampires needed a purpose, a Sire’s guidance when they rose. Willow believed that by Rising on her own, her Tara had to turn to something for meaning or else exist as a mere beast, and that meaning had been her Goddess. Such purpose made Tara strong but it probably confused her demon essence as well.

“Wolves killed me,” Tara hesitantly said. She found the subject difficult to speak about. This was why she rarely used words; to speak made things alive again. “It was night. Storming. She came...out of the dark. I don’t know who. She promised revenge.” Tara stared out the front windshield, her eyes faraway. “She didn’t want it,” Tara suddenly said.

“She didn’t want to kill you?” Willow inquired softly.

“No. The Soul. She didn’t want the Gift. but she is gone, and I am here.”

Yes,” Willow agreed quietly. “And I expect it’s kinda confusing, because you grew up alone. But you’re not alone now, okay? I’ll help you,” she assured, smiling gently at Tara. “Not gonna let Watchers or Slayers getcha.”

“I’m different,” Tara blurted. There, she’d said it. Now it was sort of out in the open, like one foot peeping out the door.

“Yes,” Willow breathed. “You are. Beautifully different.” She smiled at her, warm and genuine, and Tara saw no mockery, no condescension.

“I--I--I--I--” Tara closed her eyes briefly. Oh no, this was the first time she’d stuttered since Rising. She was unraveling. She wanted Willow to know. Something in her made her less of a demon.

Willow did not appear affected at all by her show of stuttery weakness. She did not ask Tara for anything more, nor offered her words of anything more. Had she done so, Tara doubted she’d be able to swallow further sentiments of sincerity. Red Hair only offered her right arm as she drove, and Tara did not refuse it. She took hold of the leather covered limb and held it tight.

* * *

Once upon a time there was a Slayer, and she had some major Slayer trials, got slain herself, came back, went on a pretty scary spree, then somehow earned a good life again. She had it pretty sweet ruling over the little kingdom of Sunnydale with Slayer Two and Slayer Three. She had her mommie back and she had a fine looking, yamma mamma girlfriend too. Now what would make this story of the Slayer Buffy complete would be....

Buffy fingered the pricey leather choker she’d asked the salesperson to take out from under the glass counter. Finely hand crafted all right, cool stitching too. The little, steel studs were arranged very prettily, and she liked the subtle dye job that gave the leather a deep, blood red cast. The petite D-rings were positioned at just the right places for a pet leash to latch on to, whether for leading or....Buffy sighed appreciatively.

“Oh for heaven’s sakes,” she heard Cordy exclaim behind her. Buffy put the choker down quickly.

“Now this isn’t what it looks like,” Buffy immediately denied, as the grinning sales guy with the many face piercings watched them. “It isn’t for you, or for me. I was just--”

“Fantasizing about Willow again. Give me that.” Cordy snatched the studded leather collar and put it in the salesperson’s hand. “We’re not buying it,” she stated. Like a great wind of female indignation, Cordelia swept her proud body out of the Goth shop and into the mall proper.

“See that? I’m a lucky girl,” Buffy enthused brightly to the sales clerk. “She’s so gorgeous. And she understands me, y’know. Me and my nee---yow!!!” Buffy exclaimed as Cordy sailed back into the store again to grab her by an ear.

“Oh ow Cordy Cordy I’ve four piercings in that ear,” Buffy winced as her girlfriend dragged her out of the Goth shop by an earlobe. Queen C finally let go, conveniently by the many shopping bags Buffy was supposed to be watching while they ‘did’ the mall. She gave her very strong and petite girlfriend the ‘Cordy Eye of Death’ as the small blonde contritely picked up the bags.

“You can be such an ass,” Cordy announced finally, and since they were on the third level promenade practically the entire mall could hear Miss Chase’s declaration all the way to the open floor below.

“Can we, um, take this somewhere else?” Buffy asked with a sheepish plea to her voice. She quickly loaded up with Cordy’s many purchases, looking very much like Buffy the little pack mule. “How about cokes. You hungry?” she inquired cheerfully.

“Oh. So it’s okay for you to discuss your pervyness with a salesguy and it’s not okay for me to just tell you that you are a--”

“Ooo look, shoes,” Buffy quickly enthused, and hurried her overladen self to a far off shoe shop window.

Cordelia sighed and eventually joined Buffy as she stared at a selection of what had to be the most mediocre shoe choices in the universe.

“Buffy,” she stated, in her ‘patient Cordy’ voice. “Let’s talk about Willow.”

“Okie-doke,” Buffy agreed readily. The heavily loaded Slayer followed her girlfriend as Cordy led her away from the window of worthless shoes, the brunette obviously mentally preparing her Queen self for ‘speechifying’ mode. At least Cordy wasn’t going to yell at her anymore, the Slayer rationalized. ‘Speechifying’ was good.

“Now you know why I made ‘the Wish’,” Cordy began, as Buffy gamely followed somewhere behind her. “Willow stole Xander. I got mad at them both. I decided it was your fault. I then wished you’d never come to Sunnydale.”

“Ergo, this really fucked up reality,” Buffy concluded cheerfully. “And you promised not to make anymore vengeance wishes because I like Willow too,” she added, just to make sure.

“I did. For some reason, the little geek still manages to steal something of mine, even in this reality, but me being angry about it isn’t going to get me anywhere! So I’m really working on my jealousy issues, I really am. You should be mine, just mine, Buffy, but you’re a special case. You have ‘I’ve been dead’ issues. I don’t have to understand it, but I’d have to be an idiot not to see that you’re screwed up and need, you know. Things.”

“Thanks,” Buffy appreciated, finally catching up to her girlfriend’s long stride. “You know I love you for that, your understanding of me and my, um...things.” They finally reached the third level food court.

“You want pizza or spaghetti?” Cordy then asked, pulling out her wallet from her purse.

“Pizza. And yours later, tonight.”

“You pig.”

After Cordy had brought Buffy her pizza and coke, and herself a pretty decent garden tomato salad, she resumed ‘the Willow talk’.

“She doesn’t want you,” Cordy chewed, as she picked the tomatoes from her salad. Buffy didn’t answer. Unfortunately, her mouth was full of pepperoni, sausage, onions, pineapple, bellpeppers, olives, and cheese at that moment. “And from what you tell me about this new vampire, Tara, she’s obviously not going to just drop her new healthy sex interest and go, ‘Hey! I reconsider! Make me your sex toy!’”

“Is the ‘healthy’ remark a crack about me,” Buffy said defensively after she swallowed her food.

“Buffy. Let it go. You have a crush.”

The Slayer played with her pizza. “I don’t have a crush,” she answered carefully. “I’m the Slayer, she’s a vamp. Certain emotions don’t come into it. It’s just lust.”

“Uh huh. So why not get any vampire to be your lusty pet, then? It’s always been Willow, Buffy.”

“Well that’s because.....” The Slayer hedged. Yeah, Buffy, why not just go to the local demon S/M club and indulge? Why not find something else to be your vamp sex toy? “She’s special, don’t you think?” Buffy hesitantly asked. She looked out at the mall court, unable to meet Cordy’s eyes.

“I think my inner jealousy moppet just reared up, but yeah, I know Willow’s special.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy gave, immediately turning her attention to the brunette before her. Cordy really had to put up with so much of her shit. “I do love you. I’m just a jerk.”

“And who’s been telling you that you’re a jerk all this time?” Cordy answered with a reluctant smile. “I also told you, I already knew you came with all this freaky baggage. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to try.”

Buffy took Cordy’s hand gratefully. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“You’re still going to fixate on Willow, I know that, and I don’t have to like it. You’ve got these pervy needs, and I totally recognize that. And it’s not something I’m going to give you. This is the only reason why I’m accepting of your having a ‘Willow’ thing, but Buffy, you really should change that to,” and here Cordy let out a sigh, because god, didn’t a relationship with the Dark Buffy really demand alot out of her. She stuck her fork into her salad.

“Change it to what?” Buffy asked her softly.

“ ‘Some vamp who’s not Willow’ thing,” Cordy finally declared. Why did she keep encouraging this. But there, she’d said it. Maybe Buffy could try it and finally get cute, little, vamp Willow out off her system.

Buffy just remained silent. Cordy threw up her hands. “See,” she further declared. “Crush.”

* * *

The sales clerk of the Goth shop was just then sliding the counter display case open in order to keep the collar the little blonde couldn’t buy, when two more beautiful ladies walked in.

The cute redhead was a total Goth dream. Super pale, all slim in a tight, long leather coat, and oh shit, only one arm. Wow.

The dark blonde with her was more fairy-Goth. Definitely a tragic romance chick with the big, dreamy, blue eyes and milk-fed Ren Faire figure. And such an awesome set of tits.

“Oh,” the redhead said. She noticed the leather slave choker still laid out on the counter. “Pretty.”

“It suits you,” the clerk complimented. He meant that too, no sales pitch here. He briefly thought of what the little blonde and the tall brunette earlier had been discussing and wondered, could this be....? The vibe was perfect, but naw! Too good to be true.

“Very pretty,” the redhead sighed. “But I haven’t been anyone’s slave, in a very long while,” she stated in a cute, little voice, and smiled suggestively at the clerk as she turned away.

Shit, the clerk could only think to himself. The whole situation, the ladies before and now these--even if they weren’t connected--was totally inspiring him to create some new chick characters and do some hot BDSM writing for the net tonight.

Tara glanced bemusedly back at the pierced store guy (with the excellent forearm tribal tattoos), and noted how fascinated he seemed by the presence of Willow. Since coming to the mall, she’d noticed many humans who seemed similarly affected by her Red Hair. Her Red Hair was very pretty, she deserved attention, Tara personally thought. But not from Slayers. Tara skipped to catch up to Willow and linked arms with her partial right arm. Willow smiled briefly at her.

“See the boots selection?” Willow indicated to her Kitty when they reached the end of the store. Shoes were laid out on the back wall shelves. “I thought you might like these.”

“Oh!! Wrestling boots!” Tara exclaimed, picking a shiny patent leather pair up and admiring them.

“Pro wrestling,” Willow corrected. “Doc Martens have their uses, but these will also look very cute with what you have,” Willow added, very pleased that Kitty was happy with this footwear suggestion. If Kitty did pick out wrestling boots, she wouldn’t be able to kick them off as easily as the sandals, Willow had already determined. “Which color are you going to get?” she asked Tara, as the blonde vampire went through the choices.

“Pink.”

“Oh no!!”

Tara laughed. She picked up another shiny black pair. “Black then,” she stated, sticking her tongue out.

Willow found the clerk very helpful. He quickly fetched them the boot sizes needed. There were several different styles of wrestling boots and Willow insisted Tara try each one on and the Doc Martens selections as well.

“What did you mean, you were a slave before?” Tara asked, while lacing up her second pair. Were you the Slayer’s?”

“No, not Buffy’s. Why did you think her?”

“She likes you,” Tara simply answered. She walked around a bit in the new boots then suddenly executed a pretty little dancer’s spin, arms held out elegantly. Both Willow and the sales clerk smiled their appreciation.

“Yes, she does. It’s too long a story to tell, though.”

Tara pouted at her. She sat to remove the pair of boots but looked at Willow pointedly.

“Want to hear,” she demanded.

“Hmmm,” Willow thoughtfully answered, considering the request. She smirked a little. She didn’t look like she would deny Tara.

“Tell you what,” she said. “I tell you mine, and you can tell me yours.”

“My what?” Tara asked. She looked down, busy with putting on the last pair of boots. She didn’t want Willow to see her apprehensive reaction.

Willow stepped forward and stood close to Kitty as she focused on lacing up the Docs. She placed her only hand gently in her tawny hair.

“Just about you. Stories from before. But only if you want to.”

Tara bit her lip, and did not answer until all the laces were neatly done. This opportunity to share...she knew why Red Hair was asking. Tara was different, and it needed a little explaining. It wasn’t prying really. Only if Tara wanted it, Red Hair had said. And she wanted to know things about Red Hair too.

“Okay,” Tara murmured, looking down, but she sounded hesitant and young. Willow’s hand gently took her chin and lifted it.

“Thanks,” she said softly, green eyes bright, and leaned over to kiss Tara.

Tara made her selection--the most flexible pair out of the lot, by her estimation. Natural black, with a black, flat sole too. She decided to wear them leaving the store. The store clerk bagged her sandals and watched the redhead wistfully finger the blood red leather collar once more.

“I wasn’t a pet really, I was a captive,” the redhead commented finally, smiling at him. “Stuff done to me against my will, of course.”

“Oh,” he replied, frowning in dismay. He didn’t know what to say. It made him angry when girls got hurt. “Sucks,” he said solemnly. He respectfully refrained from asking what happened to the guy who messed her up. He hoped he got his. The clerk held the credit receipt still for her so she could sign it carefully with her left hand.

“That’s a beautiful henna job,” he admired, referring to the tattoos that decorated the redhead’s only hand. The dark blonde suddenly smiled at him, obviously pleased with his observation, and he made a mental note of the unique, crooked grin she had. These ladies were hot.

“Thank you for your help,” the redhead told him with one last parting glance before leaving with the blonde.

“Thank you,” he replied sincerely. “Both of you have a great night.” As he watched them go, he recalled yet again what that tall brunette had said earlier to the little blonde and rechecked his memory against the name signed on the receipt:

Willow

Shit, he thought, dwelling for a moment on the incredible karmic convergence that had settled on just this leather collar which he now placed back under the glass. It boggled the mind. He then turned his creative thoughts to the logistical problem of four hot females and how to get them together. He was going to type a really kick ass story tonight.

* * *

“Hungry?” Willow asked. Kitty had linked arms with her partial arm again. Tara did not strike her as clingy--Willow remembered that she loved embracing Xander alot. It was an innocent show of affection. It gave Willow warm feelings that Tara should feel so towards her.

“Yes,” Tara answered, surprising herself with the realization. When she ate a werewolf, she didn’t necessarily have to eat for quite a few days. But she’d noticed that her appetite had grown a bit voracious since killing her last one. It was like she was compensating for the lost of a powerful blood diet. The mountain lion the day before, and then Willow last night--a vampire would think she didn’t need to eat again, but here she was, realizing that the hunger was making itself known within her. All these oblivious humans, just strolling around. All that hot, pulsing blood and all the heartbeats going pump, pump, pump, pump...

“I was okay,” Tara complained. “Until you said.” Willow just laughed briefly.

“It’s our beastie nature,” Willow explained as they continued to walk along, arm in arm. Tara tried to ignore the human cattle and pay attention to Red Hair. “We’re just human guises stretched over demonic essences. We could be talking just like a well behaved, civilized person with one of them and then Raff!! Next thing we know we’re sitting next to a human with its throat torn out. And it’s not like we needed to do that. For food, anyways.”

Tara nodded solemnly. She could understand that feeling.

“The beastie can be controlled,” Willow continued. “The need to kill abates with time.”

Tara looked at all the prey they strolled among. “But then we’re not happy beasties,” she stated.

“No,” Willow eventually answered, after a bit of silence had stretched between them. “But there must be more to us than just killing, don’t you think?” Her voice was thoughtful and far away. “There must be,” she murmured.

Tara didn’t answer. She was finding the scent of all the humans distracting, and she knew it was because she wasn’t used to being in the presence of so many. What was it Red Hair was just now talking about? It was significant, something that deserved an answer, and Tara was certain--much to her ire--that if her caring, sensitive human self were here right now, she’d know that answer.

This Tara, unfortunately, eyed the prey they passed, and forgot the question.

* * *

Buffy sat back and enjoyed the sight of Cordy trying on yet another form hugging outfit in yet another mirrored dressing room. Sales ladies would look at them and consider the two girls just best friends, but of course Buffy liked to test that silly het assumption with some form of public display of affection. Like right now, by just reaching over and--

Buffy’s hand got quite a smack before it reached Cordy’s finely shaped ass.

When Buffy met Cordy, it had been like mistaken identity. Buffy and Ken had just killed the Master (thoroughly), Buffy was just then starting her first day at Sunnydale High School (or at least pretending to), and right while she was getting acquainted with her poor excuse for a locker (she’d already accidentally broken it), there stood this tall, really good looking somebody making huge, happy eyes at her.

“Buffy? Buffy??” the somebody kept exclaiming a little freakily.

“And who wants to knoMMPH!!”

When Buffy first met Cordelia Chase, it had basically been the Slayer’s face enthusiastically saying ‘howdy!’ to her gorgeous chest.

“Oh thank god!!” tall, dark, and gorgeous had cried out, hugging little Buffy to her like it was Armageddon. “Thank god I didn’t completely screw up!!”

“Or maybe I did,” the mystery brunette had then announced, pushing Buffy out at arms length to get a good look at her. “You look like a Sandinista!! What are you in this reality, a child soldier? And that make up! Raccoon eyes say, ‘arrest me, I’m a burglar’, Buffy. And these little boots! Yuck, I don’t even want to know what that green gunk is.”

And that was how Cordelia Chase had whirlwind herself into Slayer Buffy’s life.

The falling in love bit was certainly not intended. Cordy was an utter bitch, yet she was pretty darn funny. She was insulting, but she never lied. She was selfish, but when she gave, Buffy knew it really, really meant something. Cordy was very sexy, and healthily so. It wasn’t all aggression and non-commitment like Faith, whom Buffy had been tempted to have a tumble with. Cordelia could be stand-offish, very protective of her dignity, but her intentions were nothing but sincere and really, really....talented.

“I’m so lucky,” Buffy couldn’t help but say aloud, while weighed down with even more bags as she followed her girlfriend out of the last boutique to be conquered by Daddy Chase’s credit card.

“Lucky how? Because you’re back there staring at my butt?”

“Nooo....well, okay, besides the Cordy-bootie watching. I’m just feeling lucky I have you.”

She was rewarded with one of Cordy’s killer watt smiles.

“You know there’s something I like to do everytime we come to this mall,” Cordy declared.

“Absolutely. Let’s go harass that somebody,” Buffy agreed. She obediently followed her girlfriend to the destination intended.

“Hello customers, how may I serve your lemon drinks and meat by product needs,” Anya, former vengeance demon, recited from her brightly colored fast food kiosk. The young low-wage worker wore a very large, hotdog shaped hat. She warily eyed the approach of Cordelia Chase with her heavily burdened Slayer love slave in toll.

“You do realize,” Anya tried to give helpfully. “That if I had not fulfilled your wish, you and the Slayer would have never found each other?”

“One large lemon,” Cordelia brightly smiled. “And don’t be stingy with the ice this time,” she called out, as Anya reluctantly moved to the drink machine and filled her order.

“Thank you,” Cordy accepted graciously. Anya stood by unhappily while Cordy removed the drink top and straw. The last time Anya had tried running away, the Slayer had manhandled her--even though she was human now! Mournfully, the former demon awaited her fate.

Spoooosssgh! Went the ice cold lemonade and crushed ice, slowly poured inside Anya’s uniformed front. Once Queen C was done, she placed the empty cup on the counter and gave Anya’s soaked front a pat.

“Until next time,” she gave cheerfully, and turned away with Buffy.

“Th-th-thank you f-f-for your pa-pa-pa-patronage,” Anya bade stiffly.

“As always, job well done,” Buffy congratulated in an upbeat tone.

“Thanks. Now how about I buy you that awful, violent video game you and Faith have been moaning over.”

“My Santa Cordy. Thank you, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Deep down, Cordelia Chase really was a very good person, and not because she bought the Slayer video games. Trust Buffy to know; she was Chosen to protect people like her girlfriend. Cordy never talked about the fact that she dreamed at night--dreams about her old life, and how she and ‘the Anya formerly known as the vengeance demon Anyanka’ made it into a nightmare. This violent, dark world was all Buffy had known, so she didn’t blame Cordelia for making it happen. But guilts were very personal burdens, the Slayer was a bit familiar with that. On those nights when they slept together, Buffy would carefully wipe her sleeping Cordy’s tears and be thankful that she loved someone who could still care.

* * *

‘How do you not kill,’ Tara asked Willow.

They were seated on a mall court bench, facing each other. Willow had a white, paper bag of fresh, handmade chocolates in front of her. The oblivious, human prey continued to pass their bench, and Willow noticed that Kitty was doing her best to focus on her and not on the Happy Meals with legs.

As a reward, Willow fed Kitty a chocolate.

“Well,’ she breathed. “In my case, my motivation is spelled, ‘S-L-A-Y-E-R’.”

Tara smiled as she chewed her treat.

“And, and if the Slayer didn’t matter?”

“Y-I-P-P-E-E.”

Tara wanted to smile at that cute response too, but she was already contemplating her next question. She swallowed a little convulsively. Tara may not fear Slayer nor other beasts, but having to broach the subject she was very reluctant to broach had her wishing for all three Slayers to show up just so she could fight them that very minute.

“S-So there’s nothing else...inside you? To make you not want to kill?” Tara bravely asked.

Willow only looked at her curiously, placing a chocolate at her own mouth. “No,” she answered simply. Like earlier in the car there was no mockery in her soft tone.

Tara looked down, hair falling. Great, she thought unhappily. But she had known Red Hair’s answer would be ‘no’.

“What’s inside you?” Willow whispered to her, carefully placing another chocolate at her small lips.

“I-I-I- d-dd....” Tara tried, anger in her voice, then gave up. She looked out at the bright, white mall proper, this place of humans, and regretted that she hadn’t taken care of this somehow--just made the choice she was supposed to make, and be able to sit here now before Willow, complete.

“Is it a voice?” Willow asked gently. Tara made a sound in her throat--it surprised the blonde vampire--it was an angry, animalistic sound, and Willow immediately leaned forward and pressed her forehead to hers, embracing her with her one arm.

“Shhhhh...it’s all right to be upset, no one’s gonna judge you. It’s only me here, afterall. You can tell me. Is it a little Tara with wings? That’s okay, you know, if you’ve a little bit of your soul.”

“No it isn’t!” Tara retorted, appalled. The Soul still in here with her! Awful!! But in a way, wouldn’t that be a relief somehow. Then things could easily be explained.

Willow smiled against her cheek. “I know you don’t have one. I can’t smell a little angel Tara.” Willow moved back so they could look at each other. Her face fell to a look of solemnity. “But whatever it is, it’s hurting you, so share.”

“It’s like I care,” Tara whispered.

“You do?” Willow asked in soft surprise. “You feel...something when you want to kill?” That was different. It explained why her Tara chose the werewolves and never the human prey.

“Or something inside me does,” Tara answered bitterly. She looked at Willow, resentment in her blue eyes. “Like a thumbprint inside. A reminder. It’s not me.”

“Hmmm,” Willow murmured, embracing Tara again. And what made the ‘thumbprint’? Willow wondered. This mark has obviously leashed her wild girl, effectively reigned her savage demon in. But Willow also suspected that the ‘print’ was temporary. Like for humans, who came into this world a clean slate capable of choosing evil--or being pushed into it--her girl only had to choose and possibly consummate her demon nature. Then the thumbprint would be erased.

“There’s nothing wrong with... ‘caring’,” Willow finally comforted. Tara pulled back to stare incredulously into her eyes.

“It’s confusing, it’s wrong,” she blurted. “It’s so unnatural! How can you say that?”

“Remember the guy in the Goth shop?” Willow asked instead, picking out another chocolate from her bag. She offered it to Tara’s lips, and her Kitty distractedly accepted.

“Yes,” Tara answered reluctantly, chewing.

“He felt bad about this,” Willow indicated, shrugging her partial arm. She looked at Tara meaningfully. “Vampires,” she whispered to her. “Usually never do.”

* * *

Tara hugged Red Hair’s right arm again when they left the bench behind. It was true, wasn’t it? If Tara had been more of a demon she would’ve killed her Willow for being weaker, or at least tried to. Just because she could. But then she did like Red Hair, arm or no arm. Tara was pretty certain had she been completely evil she would’ve kept her pretty Red. Hmm.

“How about me?” Tara asked.

“What about you, baby?” Willow answered. While Tara linked arms with her, she still held her chocolate bag in her one hand.

“If you had two arms, would you have tried to kill me?....Because I’m like this?”

Willow thought about that. That was a good question. “Probably not. I had a Puppy, he had a soul. I think I would have made you more like that, my pet, instead.”

“Not nice,” Tara admonished, smiling at her Red Hair.

“Oh poo. If you were fully evil right now you wouldn’t hesitate to make me your toy.”

“You are already,” Tara teased.

“Bad Kitty. If this were a year ago, you’d be my Kitten.”

“I’m not the Kitten. You’re the Kitten.”

“You’re the Kitten!” Willow protested, astonishment in her tone.

“No, you are.”

“You are!”

“You are.”

“You!--”

They stopped suddenly. Right before them on the busy promenade was the surprised Slayer. The wide eyed, surprised Slayer, her girlfriend, and a ton of shopping bags.

Willow and Tara stared at Buffy and Cordelia, all four wondering how the heck they managed to get caught so off-guard.

“You--” Willow sputtered angrily. “Are you still stalking me?!” she snapped at Buffy. A bunch of passerby overheard, eyeing them warily.

“Oh great,” Cordelia uttered. She was pale and apparently shocked to see Willow. Buffy suddenly realized that although she had seen Willow herself probably a million times since Rayne’s magic shop, Cordy had met Willow only that one time--when she and ‘Zander’ tried to kill her. Buffy wasn’t sure if that was the reason, but something was rendering the very expressive Queen C completely at a lost for words. “Oh great,” Cordy repeated.

“You should have stayed dead!!” Willow snarled at her. Tara, at her side, was struck by the venom of Red Hair’s words. It felt so...personal.

“I,” Cordelia tried to say. There was an awkward silence. “I can’t do this,” she abruptly said. She turned and walked hurriedly away.

“Cordelia!!” Buffy called to her. She shot a look at the two vampires, as if unsure whether to berate them or just make certain they didn’t cause more trouble. Willow merely turned her back and walked off.

Tara looked at her rapidly disappearing Red Hair and then back at the Slayer accusingly. She didn’t know what in Goddess’ Name had just happened, but it had to be the Slayer’s fault.

“So she likes chocolates, huh?” the Slayer suddenly noted to Tara brightly, and then as if remembering she had a girlfriend to placate, the Slayer picked up her hundred bags and ran after the brunette.

“Stupid Slayer!” Tara ejected. The ineffectual insult was a bit late however, considering that she now stood all by herself. She ran after her upset lover.

When Tara caught up to Willow, Willow was actually hurrying back to her.

“I left you alone with the Slayer, I’m sorry,” Red Hair gave worriedly.

Tara shook her head. It didn’t matter. She took hold of Red Hair by the shoulders. “Why so mad?” she asked in concern. She’d obviously come into the middle of some old history thing. The fact that the Slayer clearly affected her Red Hair made her angry, but Tara was trying to shake the murderous jealousy and concentrate on Willow. She used to be good at this, listening and stuff. Back when she was alive.

“Another long story,” Red Hair bitterly excused. Her face twisted in pain and anger. “What we’d talked about before?.... It’s true, Slayer wants me for her Kitten.”

Oh.... thought Tara. Although her reaction was more like, ‘I’ll kill that bitch!!’. She had to focus on Red Hair and lock up her demony thoughts in the cave from whence they came. This anger management thing was the pits.

She led her Willow to the promenade’s railing, overlooking the levels below. Getting them a little away from the crowding human sheep was good.

“How come she hasn’t?” Tara asked curiously. With three Slayers, they easily could enslave whomever they wanted.

“Wants my consent,” Willow gave. Her Red Hair stared out into the open below, anger hardly masking the hurt evident in her eyes. The faraway, green surfaces watched more than what was before them.

Tara saw that and sighed. Yep, she thought. She’d walked into some kind of old history.

“I should...I need to explain about some stuff,” Willow offered hesitantly. Tara stiffened before her, something catching her full attention, moving below. “H-How I got this.” She indicated her right arm. “And...stuff. You have a right to--”

Tara suddenly took off like a shot.

“Okay, maybe some other time,” Willow hastily reconsidered, and then ran swiftly after Tara.

Having been the ‘chasee’ in their chases, Willow never had the opportunity until now to watch her feral Kitty run. Tara was strong and swift and she ran very hard, violently knocking over the humans who got in her way. Whatever she was focused upon--visually spotting along the railway as she ran--Willow knew her Kitty dearly wanted to catch. With a snarl, Tara suddenly leapt up, foot pushing off the railing to hurtle her body further out into the wide open mall space and to send herself plummeting down below.

“Shit,” Willow ejected, dropping her chocolates. She immediately vaulted over the railing with her one hand, body whipping into the huge, open mall space. Before hundreds of startled human eyes, two young women hurtled down three stories of mall air.

Below Willow, Tara was a vision of angelic vengeance; arms out like an end of the world proclamation, her hair and gypsy skirt rippling wildly in the air as she landed hard amid the screams of frightened humans. Willow followed in a sleek descent, a black, leather bat knifing down from some Hell dimension. Her long coat whipped about as she landed, Tara already running madly away.

“Tara!!” Willow shouted, but it was useless. She could only follow her lover and hope to see what she was after. Bad Kitty, have to remember to buy you underwear, Willow mentally added, as she cut smoothly through the startled crowds left in the wake of Tara’s missile-like passage. The entire mall had gotten quite a revealing eyeful from the sudden Tara-descent.

Tara burst from the mall proper into the parking structure.

Her prey had a good distance on her, but he was aware of danger. Tara spied him hurriedly boarding his car. As she ran for it, the vehicle pulled out, screeching. Tires burned and then the car hurtled for the exit ramp leading down.

Tara leapt to the structure’s outside railing and swung herself down and into the level below. Willow watched her disappear and cursed. There was still a sizable distance between them and she didn’t want to lose her. Willow vaulted the railing near her, swung, and let go. Having the power and balance of only one arm, she barely managed to land within the parking level below. She heard the roar of an accelerating car.

Willow ran out to the middle lane. Tara was already in that lane and running away from her, headlong into the path of an oncoming, careening vehicle and its bright lights.

“TARA!!” Willow screamed, but it was too late. Kitty leapt for the hurtling car. She smacked spectacularly into the windshield, smashing it. She tumbled over the rooftop and fell off somewhere behind. The car kept roaring and Willow realized she was now in its furious way.

Must remember to teach Kitty the laws of physics, Willow thought. With a snarl she leapt high up above the barreling headlights.

For a split second she was suspended above the furious car--beneath her its dangerous roof edge passed, then the expanse of roof with Kitty dents, and finally--

Willow came down and kicked as hard as she could off the car’s back roof edge, managing to not duplicate the impact and roll that had made further Kitty-body dents on the car trunk. As the car screamed away, Willow dived into a rapid shoulder roll and then elegantly regained her feet.

“Tara!!” she cried, running to where Kitty lay in a heaping mess.

“I’m okay,” the Tara-heap actually said to her. Then it groaned.

“Well your lungs are okay, you Bad Kitty! You don’t catch cars from the front, you catch them from behind.” Willow knelt and tried her best to see how much damage Kitty had taken. There was blood, plenty of cement scrapes, but miraculously--

“Nothing major looks broken, ‘cept maybe your brain,” Willow said sourly. Kitty was painfully unfolding herself from the bloody pile she made. She slowly stood up.

“Meanie,” was all Tara winced, as she tested out her limbs. The buttons hadn’t held on her tight blouse, they were all torn off. Willow could see Kitty-breasts. The red haired vampire quickly unbuttoned her long coat and shrugged it off.

“Here,” she said, placing it over Tara’s front. “I don’t want security to see. And we should leave now.” Anxiously, Willow led her limping Kitty to the stairs. Their car was a level down.

“So who was that you were trying to catch?” Willow asked as she helped Tara down the stairs.

“Oh,” Tara simply answered. “A guy. The one who gave me to the wolves.”

* * *