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Title: THE MASTER WILLOW SERIES: Master Willow
Author: psimetis
E-mail: psimetis@hotmail.com
Distribution: Near Her Always. Extra Flamey.
Rating: NC-17
Beta Reader Creds: Props to my second set of eyes, Zee! Eny mickstakes ar myne. Do check out Zee’s fiction at: http://www.geocities.com/at3sparky/Stories.html

Author’s Note: My thanks to April McKaig, my S/M consultant who helped further define electro-play particulars. Any attachment exaggerations are my own. ;) Do check out her own VampWil/Wil, VWil/VWil fic, ‘Branches Of The Willow Tree’, which I really enjoy for its own character exploration of two kinds of VWils, at NHA and Mystic Muse.

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE: WILLOW’S WOMEN
(Where There’s A Slayer, And The Fierce Girls Live At Night)


Tara stepped down from where she had secured the last of Anya’s suitcases to the top of the hummer. The early morning light cast long, blueish shadows in the alley behind the Magic Box and the crisp air seemed subdued, as if waiting for expectations to be realized. For the moment, it felt like she and Anya were the only ones awake and moving about in Sunnydale’s silent downtown area. Anya quickly emerged from the back door of her store pushing her hand cart with its load of three boxes.

“Is that the last of them?” Tara asked, moving to help her friend place the boxes in the back of her vehicle.

“Yes! We can actually do this in one trip!” Anya announced with a little jump of delight as Tara lifted the now emptied hand cart and placed it in the back of the hummer as well. She shut the hatch with finality. Anya locked up the back door of the Magic Box.

“Shall we, Miss Emerson?” Tara announced playfully with an offer of her arm. Anya accepted it for the very brief escort to the front passenger side of the vehicle and Tara helped her into the seat.

“Oh, this feels like an occasion--isn’t this a special occasion? This must be considered one of those ‘life steps’ occasions, which I saw discussed on Oprah,” Anya exclaimed, as Tara started up her vehicle and maneuvered it out of the alleyway.

“It’s called having a new beginning,” Tara laughed.

“Is this how you felt when you left your family?” Anya abruptly asked.

As always, when it came to the subject of her family, Tara nearly fell to her customary silence, but she recognized the significance of what her exuberant friend was innocently asking her.

“Yes,” Tara finally said, smiling softly. “Yes, just like this.”

“Oh! Stop here!” Anya requested, pointing at the bakery. “This occasion calls for baked goods with custard and berry fillings!”

Fifteen minutes later, the warm, fresh aroma from two white bags sitting on Anya’s lap, scented the car interior. Tara negotiated the brief morning traffic for the older, genteel section that lay spread on the low hills of Sunnydale. Large, old trees came into view as Tara’s H2 crested a meandering road, and closely clustered, modest homes gave way to ivy covered estate walls with large gates and deep driveways. Concrete sidewalks disappeared and informal, road side paths replaced the usual, city grid pattern. Anya pointed at a large, Spanish style home.

“That’s Willow’s,” she stated, having never seen the place in daylight before.

“Yes,” Tara affirmed. “Chase mansion is not that far. We can walk over to each other’s house.”

“I would like that,” Anya agreed. “Oh look! Cordelia!”

Tara honked the horn to acknowledge the brunette, jogging easily along the side of the road. Cordy waved as the blonde witch pulled her humvee into the driveway leading up to the front of Chase mansion.

“It’s unlike Willow’s,” Anya observed, once Tara shut off the engine and the former demon had disembarked. She stood looking up at the house with its white, columned front and understated elegance. “This is imitation Italian villa. Not like Tuscany, but I like it.”

“Good!” Cordy exhaled when she had caught up to where Tara and Anya stood on her driveway. The brunette in the tank top and matching running pants came to a stop, glowing with the energy of her recent exercise. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and there was the thin sheen of sweat on her richly toned skin. Cordy pushed her head phones further off her ears. “If we’re going to be roommates, you better like something about my house. Hey!” she exclaimed, giving Anya’s hair a once over. “Love the new color! And those highlights!”

Anya beamed and fluffed her newly lightened and blonde hair. “I brought pastries. With filling,” she offered, holding up her white bakery bags. Cordelia’s face lit up and she took one of the bags to peek at the tasty contents.

“I’m liking my roomie already! DENNIS!” she yelled--which was perhaps unnecessary, as the front doors immediately opened at her call. “Dennis is my ghost,” Cordy explained to Anya. “Let me show you your choice of rooms, and then we can help him move your stuff. Tara, let Dennis do the work, okay?” the former cheerleader called over her shoulder as she followed an eager Anya into the house. Despite Cordy’s urging, Tara decided to wrestle the hand cart out of the back of her car.

“Oh, thank you,” Tara said gratefully, as she felt the hand cart pulled effortlessly out of her grasp and placed right side up upon the gravel of the driveway by an intangible Dennis. Boxes began to move through the air of their own accord, stacking neatly on to the waiting cart. Tara felt her phone vibrate in her coat pocket.

“How’s my Kitten,” Tara heard murmured sleepily when she answered her phone. The young woman stepped further away from the back of her car, giving Dennis more room to do his work. A rush of warmth infused the blonde witch at hearing Willow’s voice.

“Willow,” Tara answered warmly. “I-I’m fine, we’re at Cordy’s now.”

“Are all my girls there?” she heard Willow ask. Tara bit back a smile, even though her vampire wasn’t there to see it. Just from her own experience, and of course reinforced by the evidence given in Watcher books, she knew how possessive master vampires could be.

“Yes, all here,” Tara gave. “As soon as Anya’s moved in, I’m driving her back for her day at the Magic Box. Then Cordelia will pick her up at the end of the day so she can be here for when Harmony comes tonight.”

“Good,” Willow got out before she yawned--loudly. “And then you go back to school--all night,” the vampire added. “I hate Wednesdays, Kitten.”

“I know,” Tara said softly, one of her fingers moving along the surface of her humvee’s door. Unconsciously, she drew a heart, with a ‘W’, and a ‘T’. “I’ll miss--”

“Tara!” she heard Anya suddenly squeal behind her. “I have a real bed! And closet space! And--is that Willow?” Anya grabbed the phone. “Willow, I have a tub,” she announced reverently, as if she’d discovered something actually more precious than money. Cordy then plucked the phone out of Anya’s hand.

“I’m going to introduce her to her first bubble bath,” the brunette added into the phone with a deceptively sweet tone. “Maybe you can bring her your rubber ducky, Willow.”

Anya gazed curiously and Tara only blushed several shades of red at the former cheerleader’s sarcastic suggestion. More accurately, her vampire had a rubber devil ducky, and the young woman had already been personally introduced to what devil ducky, in naughty Willow’s hands, liked to do underwater to bathing blonde witches.

“Oh, Delia, you cock tease,” Willow murmured, not realizing that Anya had now pressed her own ear to Cordelia’s phone ear in order to catch what the vampire might be saying. “What’s a ‘cock tease’?” Willow heard Anya’s distant voice ask. If Kitten wasn’t blushing before at Delia’s unknowingly loaded rubber ducky remark, her girl should be by now, Willow grinned to herself broadly.

She yawned again, listening to Delia and Anya argue over the phone, and luxuriously stretched her nude body in her bed. No Kitten here with her today, but interestingly enough, Willow was still in the company of women, even if just their voices, and she was enjoying it immensely.

One of the perks, she thought sleepily, of having such formidable young females by her side. Sunnydale was now hers to easily manage, and the Slayer will waste her attention trying to get past the humans in her Family to touch her. She finally heard Kitten calmly ask for her phone back. Lucky, lucky Willow, thought the vampire, smugly.

* * *

‘Slayer’

‘Top Chicks’


Sunnydale High was not a wheelchair friendly school, Buffy had learned rather depressingly. Mom had definitely been peeved at the discovery, and had ranted about how she was certain that such neglect of adapting public grounds to access was against state law. However, a mother’s righteous anger and phone calls to the mayor’s office didn’t exactly motivate a school to instantly erect ramps and install elevators for one handicapped (temporarily, Buffy reminded herself) student on wheels. So while Giles and even Miss Calendar redirected mom’s energies instead to the Summers home improvements, giving their assurances that they would help her eldest daughter graduate, Buffy contented herself with wheeling around in the school library and tackling her studying there.

She let her head fall back to stare up at the skylight, with its brief indication of sunlight, blue, and clouds. She hated this wheelchair; it was ugly, awkward, and big, making her look like Tiny Tim sitting in a--well, a stupid wheelchair. Mom had a really cool chair special ordered for her--the ‘Hammer’, something especially designed for hockey and rugby players. Buffy couldn’t wait until the company who made them finished her chair so that she and mom could pick it up. Even Ken’ looked at the catalogue and gave her approval.

“If I had no legs,” the Jamaican Slayer had stated. “Dat be my wheels, mon.”

Buffy smiled briefly up at the skylight. Having Kendra at the house was a total blessing to her sanity. Mom fussed until Buffy felt stifled; Dawn didn’t know what to do with her newly crippled sister, and alternated between being awkwardly solicitous and then avoidy. But Ken’ looked at Buffy like she was just a sister Slayer who happened to have no legs for the moment. Ken’ carried Buffy up and down the stairs in the mornings and evenings. Ken’ totally agreed that the rent-a-chair was butt ugly and needed to be tossed in front of an oncoming truck. Ken’ took Buffy to the park so that they could harden stakes in the fire pit. There, they traded kill stories and fight techniques without mom around, looking worried, or Dawn listening in with either disgust or morbid fascination. If anything good came of Buffy being dead briefly, it was definitely the Calling of Kendra. The younger Slayer was someone Buffy could privately give up the mantle of Slayer leader for, and just lean on.

Buffy idly wheeled herself backwards around and around one of the research tables. The thought had occurred to her that the one she should be leaning on was her sometimes, sort of boyfriend, Angel. He had definitely been there those long hospital nights when she couldn’t sleep, reading to her, or just talking. But since her return home, Angel had hardly been around, and Buffy knew it was because mom didn’t really tolerate him. Even Dawn didn’t like Angel very much, and Buffy couldn’t figure out why, since her sister was just at that precipice of teenhood where anything cute and male made her squeal. Ken’ only had one thing to say when Buffy wanted to know what her opinion of her Angel ‘relationship’ was.

“You like dem sad dogs, mon,” the Jamaican Slayer had concluded, with a slow shake of her head, that also implied that she considered Buffy utterly doomed. Buffy had to disagree, she wasn’t entirely doomed. Well, okay, like Wills had once pointed out, immortal guy? Children? Him always being beautiful, Buffy growing old? Great, not helping. New thoughts!

The petite blonde in her ugly, hospital issued chair rolled slowly backwards from one end of the library to the other. The chair was only capable of a certain amount of maneuverability, and Buffy learned the hard way of its limits when she had tipped herself over and hit the floor. Twice. She worked the sleepy wheels beneath her hands, forcing them, coaxing them. She wanted to make figure eights with her resisting wheels, sharp turns--do a back cut and slice elegant, knife edges into the library wood flooring like blades upon ice. She wanted to launch herself from the rigid seat and make the slick moves through air; crouch upon headstones and then hurtle, like Kendra now did, every night, and land sure footed, engaging in the dance of death. She wanted to feel her entire body sing.

“Buffy,” she suddenly heard Giles say, as he emerged from his office. He looked thoughtfully at her, one of his eyeglass handles pressed to his lips. “How are your studies coming along?”

“Oh,” the small blonde remarked, as she wheeled herself back to the research table where her open school books lay. First day back, on a Wednesday, and already she was goofing off. She could almost hear her Wills say something funny about that. She ignored the pang of her heart. “Oh, well, it’s coming! Eventually, and I wish I hadn’t just said that--like that. I’ll start reading, right now.” She flipped open her chem book and began reading it. Upside down.

“Well...good. Perhaps, perhaps we should see about getting you a tutor to help as well,” Giles suggested. He stood briefly in the doorway of his office. “Well then. I-I’ll be over here, should you need anything.”

“Okie doke,” Buffy agreed. She stared at her book until she heard Giles settle back down at his desk. She slowly put the text book down. She wondered if it had occurred to her Watcher that it was Willow who had been her tutor, her constant, supportive, study buddy. Her only help. Buffy let go of her book before she accidentally tore it in half.

The school bell rang, indicating a period at an end and the change of classes. Buffy could easily hear the voices and movements of able bodied students traveling to their next class. The sudden recollections of her own Wills and Xand came, unbidden. She imagined them once more wandering and chatting among those who walked so freely outside the library doors; safe, alive, happy. Buffy slowly sent her wheelchair rolling back until it hit that corner table she knew so well, the one that held the computer terminal where her best friend would always sit before, the screen humming blue and bright upon her eager, helpful face. Whenever Buffy laid her head against the side of the machine, she could still breath the slightest, faintest, residue whiff of her dear friend...

The Slayer abruptly sat back up in her chair. She rolled forward for the research table where her books lay. She had a job she could help with and she would do what she could--failure was behind her, there was only now. She reached over her school books for the knife and unfinished stake she had been working on. Ken’ was going to come by at the end of the school day and help push her back home. Buffy would have a few new stakes ready for her sister Slayer by then.

* * *

“You ready?” Cordy asked, looking back at Anya. It was dusk, and they stood in the foyer of her house. The ex-demon nodded and held up the large battery by its handle. Cordy glanced a third time to where she had laid the Remington M870 shotgun shorty strategically on mom’s antique console.

She had already assured Anya that she, the former May queen, did indeed know how to use the covert gift from Gunn. Color Cordy surprised when she opened the door yesterday to one of Gunn’s boys, who presented her with the--obviously--illegally obtained firearm. That, and a box of shells. The gun brought back memories of a frightening night in LA. She had witnessed Gunn using the shorty to blow off the head of a ten foot tall demon--a splatter event which resulted in Cordelia promptly tossing up her fast food tacos in a back alley. That same dark night, she emphatically demanded of her street warrior friend: “Teach me how to use that sucker.”

However, this night, instead of her new pump action shorty, Cordy was holding a very sinister, long handled gift from Willow, concealed flush against her leg--in the manner that Gunn had taught her to do.

“Yo, Barbie,” Gunn had demonstrated one night, completely hiding the full sized shotgun he held within the silhouette of his nonchalant stance. “Now you see it. Now you don’t.”

“Hide that behind your back,” Cordy said, indicating the battery to Anya. “Until I ask for it, okay?”

The ex-demon nodded, and did as she was told. “Think of rottweillers!” Anya encouraged, with a ‘go get ‘em!’ fist action.

“Tara said think of them as dobermans,” Cordy commented, steeling herself.

“Whatever brings out your alpha female,” Anya remarked. “Which you’re definitely going to show them.”

Cordelia smiled at that, and then the doorbell rang. With one more calming breath and last look at Anya, Cordy moved to open the door.

“Well if it isn’t the Big Bitch herself,” Harmony instantly greeted sarcastically, as she stood off the lit porch with what looked like an impressive group of large, intense looking guys.

“Harmony, my number one sheep,” Cordy said brightly. “Still flocking, I see? The slut Harley look must be in for the fall. You certainly got it down, right to the dark roots.” She stepped easily from the safety of her doorway out upon the porch. She could practically hear the subvocal growl that ran through the vampires before her. That’s right boys, the former cheerleader thought forcefully to herself. Cordy’s going to show you who’s Mistress of this house.

“So here you are alive, and living in my new house, Cordy,” Harmony shot off. “What’ll you think of little wooly baa-baa me when I bite your throat?” At that, a couple of malicious, deep chuckles sounded from the blonde vampire’s gang. Cordelia just graced Harm with one of her most disinterested, ‘excuse me, but which amoeba species are you?’ Chase looks.

“I’ll be thinking, you need this,” Cordy merely said, and she elegantly whipped up the long handled cattle prod from where it had lain hidden against her leg and gave the blonde vampire a sizzling tap.

“YEERGH FUC--” Harm spazzed, and immediately collapsed at the foot of the porch. Some of her boys immediately moved for their spasming sire. Cordy held up her still sparking weapon warningly.

“Ah ah,” she cautioned, motioning with the cattle prod. “Did I say any of you could move? Did I?” She watched, secretly pleased--and relieved--as the vampires slowly backed off. Adrenaline was pumping through her, and she could feel her power. Tara was right, think of vampires as dobermans--they were definitely recognizing who was head bitch directly over Harm, right now.

“Like your Master, Willow, told you,” Cordelia then continued, as she strutted slowly across the length of the porch, showing off her height in the three inch Manolo Blahniks Anya had earlier applauded and her athletic figure in the sleek black pants suit she now modeled. She had asked Tara this morning what Harmony looked like now in order to out ‘power’ dress her former Cordette. The diamond accents, hands down, were sure to impress Harm’s dumb vamps. “I’m Cordelia Chase, I own this house, and whatever vampires live in it, I own their butt. Number One Rule in Cordelia’s house: I RULE. Understand?” she emphasized, raising her cattle prod like a deadly scepter at the staring vamps. Either they were so smitten by the authoritative figure she was cutting, Cordy mused, or they were actually still looking at her as dinner. No one answered her. Cordy tried a different tactic, never breaking her gaze with the vamp sheep.

“I’ll say this so you can understand,” she said slowly, her prod traveling to take each vampire face in. “Cordelia. Rules. Harmony. Understand?”

Harmony suddenly laughed, sputter-like, from where she lay.

“Yeah,” she managed to eject, although obviously still recovering from her electrical shock. “Queen C--Rules--Harm. Got it?!” the blonde vampire spat out to her minions.

There was a loud chorus of various affirmations from the vampires and they fell on their knees before Cordelia. Cordy finally lowered her cattle prod.

“Good,” she said. “Harm, get up off your butt and make the rules clear to your minions.”

“Fuck you,” Harm said automatically, but she struggled to her feet--with some difficulty. She glared at her kids. “Cordelia is Mistress of this house. Her word is law over us and over me. You will regard her like you do the Master. Got it?!”

Again there was a chorus of affirmations from the kneeling vampires.

“Ahem,” Anya clearly uttered behind Cordelia.

“Oh,” Cordy said. She moved to reveal Anya, who stood smiling. “This is Anya.” Anya gave a little wave. “She’s also Mistress of this house. Her power is equal to mine, understand?”

Harm gave a couple of her minions a swift kick to get them to respond more enthusiastically.

“Great,” Cordy finally smiled. “Let’s get this show on the road.” She looked at Harmony, who took a formal pose, hands behind her back. “Harmony, I invite you in,” Cordelia bestowed.

“Thanks Cordy. Troy!! Go greet your new mistress!” Harm barked at one of her minions. One of the young men--a real looker, and nice dresser, Cordelia assessed--got up and walked hesitantly towards where the brunette stood on the porch.

“Troy,” Cordelia greeted. “I invite you in.” And the ex-cheerleader gave the vampire a swift touch of the cattle prod.

ZZZZT everyone heard, and watched Troy collapse at the brunette’s feet. Cordelia just gazed with keen interest down at the convulsing young man, while Harmony pushed her boot sole roughly into Troy’s firm--although at the moment, jerky--butt.

“Crawl in!” she ordered, and with a huge amount of difficulty, Troy painfully pulled his shaking body up the steps for the parted doors. “KEN,” Harm then indicated, with a flick of her hand. The young man named Ken approached the porch a little fearfully. Cordelia smiled.

BZZZZT!

After Cordy gave Ken his formal invitation, the poor, spasming vampire slowly crawling after his brother up the steps, the brunette then turned discreetly to Anya. The ex-demon quickly offered the battery and helped to hook the wire extensions of Cordy’s prod up. When the Queen turned back to the rest of the vampires waiting to be invited, she was fully charged and ready for them.

“Next?” she asked brightly. Harm barked, and a big boy named Barry warily approached the porch.

This morning, Tara had handed Cordelia a long, mysterious looking package from Willow, which, the brunette soon found out, contained the evil looking cattle prod and its battery. She had read Willow’s precisely written note explaining the gift along with a curious Anya and Tara:

C,
H will want to challenge you tonight. She’ll have to, for the benefit of her minions. Get large with the bitch, and use the enclosed equalizer. Have fun, and don’t use sparingly.
~W

That was when the blonde witch had made the comment about dobermans. And Tara was right, thank God, Cordelia thought to herself, as she gave the next big, ripped guy after Barry a good sized shock from her new weapon. Vampires were like vicious dogs and needed to be shown who was boss. As Anya had remarked earlier, the occasion did call for equally vicious reinforcement tactics. Cordy definitely had no problem with teaching Harm and her gang who was queen here, and it was especially gratifying to Cordy, the former vamp magnet, that these creatures could fall so easily to something as simple as a super shock stick. However, it was when Cordy finally reached the last member of Harm’s vamp gang that the whole doberman theory had to be given a big pause in the ex-cheerleader’s surprised mind.

“This is my girl Elise,” she heard Harm announce, as the slim, large eyed girl stood visibly trembling before Queen C.

“Elise, I invite you in,” Cordelia said automatically, but her hand with the prod, as she stared at the girl, did not rise to touch the vampire. Cordy felt Anya’s warm hand cover her own.

“Allow me,” she heard the ex-demon offer quietly, and her arm was raised in Anya’s firm grip. There was the familiar ZZZT, with its electric scent, and suddenly the large eyed girl collapsed without a sound at her feet.

“Elise! Move your skinny ass!” Harm snapped, giving the girl a shove with her boot. “Join your brothers inside!”

Cordelia could not even look down, as she heard the little girl called Elise practically sob her way up the steps and finally into the house. Cordy felt Anya step away, but the ex-demon continued to stand supportively behind her even as Cordelia slowly raised the cattle prod and pointed it at Harm.

“I’m going to kill you,” Cordelia merely said. Vaguely, Cordy realized that she was not bothering to throw a Queen fit, not even a Chase size one. The fact that Harmony had Turned someone who looked practically like little Willow had given Cordelia a sudden, rare moment of utter clarity of purpose. It was completely irrational, coming to the defense of the memory of a sweet, nerdy girl both she and Harm had tormented in the past, but what Cordy was feeling right then felt like pure truth: She simply wanted to kill Harm.

“No you’re not,” the blonde vampire replied. Cordy’s former high school friend cocked her blonde head, staring with that unreadable expression vampires seemed to get; a stare devoid of emotion. “She’s not one of mine. I adopted her.”

Cordelia slowly considered Harm’s words. Finally, she lowered the prod.

“All right,” she stated, staring down at the vampire. “Not tonight then.”

Harmony gave a short laugh, and for a moment, Cordy caught a glimpse of her old, bubble headed, blonde friend. Queen C gave her prod an irritated wave.

“Just get your butt inside, Harmony,” Cordy ordered.

* * *

‘Tough Chicks’


“I’m glad you’re staying for dinner,” Buffy said warmly, as she raised the wood javelin to her shoulder. A look of focused, Slayer concentration fell upon her face, and with a powerful exhale from her tiny body, she heaved the pole towards her target. With a thudding vibration, the pole struck home, skewering the thick, wood dummy board. Kendra jogged to the large target with its crudely outlined humanoid figure and grasped the javelin. It took the Jamaican Slayer two hard pulls to get the weapon out of the thick wood. Buffy grinned triumphantly as Kendra jogged back to where the blonde Slayer sat in her wheelchair in the Summers backyard.

The dim back porch light did not illuminate much in the evening dark, but with their nocturnal sight, the Slayers could easily continue with their informal training activities. Actually, with Ken’, despite the other girl’s taciturn, disciplinary ways, Buffy didn’t feel so much like she was training, but more like she was having some kind of...warrior fun. Which was weird, because usually she would be the one who would want an escapist girls’ night-in, doing nails, hair, and watching movies, hoping to forget the Slayer burden. That kind of fun had been spent with her Wills, Buffy realized.

“Oz and Larry volunteered for early patrol,” Kendra informed, as she set the javelin aside. She picked up a short handled ax and handed it to Buffy. “And Angel will take de rest of the night. We can go to de park later, mon.”

“Cool,” Buffy grinned. “Would, um, would,” she hesitantly asked. Kendra only looked at her cooly, her arched brow and dark eyes giving nothing away, but Buffy had learned that was just the other girl’s steely way. Beneath the tough exterior, Ken’ was surprisingly approachable. For one thing, the Jamaican had finally decided to loosen up, at least in the Summers house, and to allow herself to speak more informally. Buffy was happy to be referred to as ‘mon’. That meant they were buds--like when Wills had called her ‘Buff’.

“Yah mon, he’ll stop by later when we go to de park,” Kendra allowed. Buffy smiled happily at her friend, then turned her attention to the large target once again. She slowly raised the ax with both hands above, then behind her head, glaring with concentration.

“Girls!! Dinner!” Joyce’s muffled voice called from inside the house, knowing that the Slayers, with their preternatural hearing, would easily catch what she said.

THUD!!

The target vibrated, but managed to remain standing despite the force of the blow. Buffy had hit the ‘head’ outline square, the ax buried deep where a face would be. Ken’ worked the handle a bit until she could yank it out.

“Good form,” she commented, when she had jogged back to Buffy.

“Thanks, but this chair sucks. It totally shakes when I do stuff,” the blonde Slayer complained. “I’m probably losing screws as I speak. And no, I don’t mean the ones in my head,” Buffy added jokingly. The Jamaican Slayer only raised a sharp eyebrow. If there was one thing Buffy keenly missed, it was the easy humor she had shared with her Xan and Will. At least they laughed at her lame jokes, Buffy privately pouted. Kendra grabbed the chair’s back handles and proceeded to push Buffy through the grass of the yard for the back porch.

“You get your new wheels, we can go patrolling, mon,” Kendra then said. “Anyt’ing dat can take de rugby ball and stay upright is irie, mon.” Buffy felt a sudden, shy joy at the Jamaican Slayer’s matter of fact offer to let the blonde patrol with her. She wondered if this was how Dawn felt when Buffy would offer big sister time.

“That’ll be cool,” Buffy agreed, smiling self consciously.

“Irie,” Kendra corrected, actually leaning in playfully as she pushed Buffy up the porch access.

“Irieee, man,” Buffy pronounced happily.

* * *

*CLACK* went Cordy’s stiletto heel when it hit the third stair. The tall brunette turned and faced her vampire throng.

Cordelia decided, while standing imperiously upon the staircase in her family home’s reception area, her pump action shorty resting against a padded, black clad shoulder, that vampires, like the high school sheep she had known, definitely needed a reinforcement of who. Was. THE. Boss, Of the Chase house. The first thing she had sensed once verbally laying down Cordy Law Number One: No Killing Humans, here or in Sunnydale--was the undercurrent, near rumbling growl of dissent from the surprised and displeased vampire faces before her. Thus it was required that Cordelia Chase continue to stand before her new vampire house guests, shotgun in hand, and give all within range the patented Chase ‘You Are Such The Loser Equivalent of Gum Beneath My Shoe’ glare.

“Well it looks like some all night instruction is in order,” she finally announced, after giving every pair of yellowed eyes a measured challenge from her own unwavering baby browns. “Harmony will indoctrinate you into Cordy Law Number One. If any one of you breaks it, I kick the entire bloodsucking bunch of you out. It’s as simple as that. And what your Master will think of your failure? Your problem. So get your minion brains to put a bite on that while you’re choosing your beds, okay? Night, kids!”

Cordy merely stood where she was after her little speech, and at a bark from Harmony to move it! The minions finally did, shuffling across the marbled floor for the first level’s rooms assigned to them. As soon as the last vampire had disappeared, Cordy turned to Anya, who was holding the cattle prod and battery. The brunette gave an indication with her head for the slight figured blonde to follow her up the stairs.

Once up in Cordelia’s room the former cheerleader gave an exasperated sigh.

“Ooooh god!” she exclaimed, quickly fingering the straps of her Manolo Blahniks off her heels. She checked the safety on her shotgun and went over to her bed, carefully beginning the painstaking process of unloading it. As Cordy removed and dropped about eight shotgun shells onto her bed cover, Anya placed the cattle prod and battery aside. She watched the ex-cheerleader finish with the unloading of her lethal weapon.

“One for each of them,” the ex-demon remarked, as she counted the shells. “Including Harmony. Were you really prepared to use them?”

“If I had to?” Cordy answered, laying the now emptied shorty at the foot of her bed. She bent to gather up the loose shells but Dennis beat her to it, softly pushing the ammo along and loading them into the box he floated over. Cordy smiled at her ghost briefly. “Let’s just say that if push came to shove? I wanted to shove back, hard--even if it did mean accidentally blasting a few holes in the walls.”

“Thank you,” the brunette was surprised to hear Anya say. “You would have defended us both. Willow would have never made you do this if there was even a possibility that we could be hurt, but.” And the ex-demon shrugged. “Vampires that are minions can be so unpredictable. Tara did get attacked once. And I’m certain two of them down there are newly risen. You could see it, in the eyes.” She pointed two fingers at her own, in emphasis. “Hungry.”

“Yeah, the jar head and the cute Asian guy,” Cordy agreed pensively, flopping back on her bed as she unbuttoned her suit jacket front. “I made sure to shock them double for the ‘hungry’ look.” She frowned. “What’s this about Tara getting attacked? Is that why Willow doesn’t keep minions in her own house?”

“Well--” Anya began, ready to launch into her personal opinion of Willow’s elitist vampire behavior--as was sometimes the case with snobby master vampires who could care less about their own lesser kinder--when Cordelia abruptly sat up.

“Is there even a chance that Willow can be wrong, then?” Cordy exclaimed, indignation warring with some shock. “If Harm’s little all night lesson doesn’t work, am I all that stands between us and them?”

“Can I sleep in here with you tonight?” Anya asked hopefully.

* * *

While the ex-cheerleader was considering the ex-demon’s question, the ex-Cordette was putting her fist into one of her kids’ faces. Hard. Ken stared back at Harm, amazed, as blood ran from his nose.

“It’s obvious I’ve been soft on you guys,” Harm spat out, now stalking around her kids in one of the larger, Chase mansion lower rooms. “Ken, you know better than to say even One. Word. Of disrespect to someone Master names Mistress--even one who is human--” and Harm smacked Ken upside the head. “And orders a ‘No Kill’! Even minions weaker than you know not to do that!” She smacked him another hard one up the other side of his head.

“But,” she heard Barry say hesitantly. As Harm whirred on him, he covered his head in reflex. “Mom!” he got out quickly. “We do kill! We don’t get it!”

“We eat humans, but we don’t have to kill them,” Harm elaborated. Her kids stared back blankly. “There are ways, and I can show you how. What we can kill, are other demons, just like when we wiped those nests out. But you know what? I’m through talking.” Harm then turned to the table she had seen the large, taped up cardboard box upon previously. She pulled the note off and read it quickly. Yep, from Wills, she thought grimly to herself. Her kids will now be introduced to another Aurelius disciplining technique Harm never really had the equipment to teach them. Well, now, thanks to their Master, she did. She tore the box open. As her kids watched, she began to lay out ominous, black cases. When she popped the metal latches open on one of the cases, it revealed an electrical unit with various dials. Wire was neatly coiled within the box, and snugly placed within the box’s lid were device attachments with sinister...intrusive, shaped ends.

“That’s--” she heard one of her newest minions say under his breath.

“CHEN,” Harm snapped, without looking behind her as she set more of the devices down. Wayne Chen was her latest lower fledge--an actual medical doctor, personally hand picked by Willow. Out of all her minions, Wayne was the most educated, and being a doc, could easily guess what the devices were for.

“I didn’t say you could talk,” Harm added warningly, finally turning around to stare her new kid down. Fuck, breaking in new minions was such a pain in the ass, she thought crossly to herself. No wonder Wills didn’t bother making her own.

“Now each of you,” Harm continued, crossing her arms and regarding each of her wary kids. “Are going to go to the room and bed you picked. You will get prepared, got it? That means you get naked, and kneeling, at the foot of your chosen bed,” Harm elaborated for her newer minions. She gave Wayne, and then Chuck, her new beefstick Marine guy, the ‘Don’t Fuck With Me’ stare. “Tonight, I am going to learn you Every, Rule, in this fucking House.”

* * *

Five minutes later, Harm poked her head into Cordy’s room after making sure each of her kids had gone to their new rooms. Queen C was apparently loading even more ammo into her shotgun and the magic store owner was sitting on the bed as well and helping.

“Um, hey,” Harm began.

“What, trouble?” Cordy asked, rising from where she sat with one leg bent on her bed. Harm had a weird deja vu moment, seeing her old friend get up in that way of hers. Weird, because Cordy never had a gun in her hands when she was doing just that.

“No prob’s,” Harm reassured. “I just unpacked Wills’ electro play shit, and I kinda need assist applying them to seven minions.”

She got an ‘Eww, are you really asking me?’ look from Queen C, but a firm nod of understanding from the store owner, surprisingly.

“Can Dennis help her with--whatever?” Cordy then asked the other girl--‘Anya’, Harm reminded herself. The other chick’s name was Anya.

“Yes,” Anya agreed. She turned to Harmony. “Dennis is Cordelia’s ghost,” she explained. “I’m sure once you demonstrate how the devices are applied on one of your minions, he can do the rest of them while you give your reinforcement lesson.” The slim, young woman then smiled at Harmony brightly.

“Okaaay,” Harm acknowledged slowly. “Thanks. So...where’s this Dennis?” The blonde vampire wasn’t sure if she liked the idea of a ghost in the house. It wasn’t like she could bite one in self-defense, could she?

“Dennis is invisible, and can’t talk. He’s more like a poltergeist,” Cordy supplied, returning her attention to loading her gun with more ammo. Her dark brown hair suddenly fluttered, like a breeze had blown in the room--except only around Harm’s former best friend. Harm felt a strange cold, which surprised her, and she involuntarily stiffened, senses reaching out. Cordy only smiled at the air.

“Yeah, that’s Dennis,” Cordy continued, and then Harm felt a shove on her shoulder. Alarmed, she raised her fists, looking about her. “I don’t think he likes you vampires much,” Cordy then remarked.

“Whatever,” Harm bit out, directing her ire vaguely to the air before her. She returned her attention to the two human girls in the room. “Okay, but later? After I set up the ‘lesson’, I actually have to leave and go see Wills, and I won’t be back until maybe sunrise. So I need someone to go in every hour or so and maintain the reinforcement of the lessons.”

Again, she got the look from Cordy--which was more her usual ‘You Gotta Be Kidding Me’ Chase look--and yet another knowing nod from the Anya chick.

“I can do it,” Anya volunteered. Cordy looked relieved.

“Great. But you do get what I’m asking, right?” Harm actually had no doubt. Unless Anya was totally delusional, she seemed to uncannily follow what the blonde vampire had been saying. Anya nodded again. “Okay. Cool. But I kinda have another question. You don’t look any older than Cordy, but you know this shit. Am I missing something?”

“Yeah,” Miss Bitch C affirmed, finally laying her gun aside. “Anya’s actually eleven hundred years old.”

“Eleven hundred and twenty,” the slim girl corrected, with a proud smile. “Former vengeance demon,” Anya then supplied, looking at the blonde vampire. “Just a human girl now.”

“Really,” Harm commented slowly. When Cordy dropped her bomb about Anya’s actual age, the vampire had immediately reached out with her childe senses to get a read on the power signature such a huge number of years would imply, but had gotten nothing demon off the store owner. Tara a witch, a ghost in the house, and now this? Hey, Hellmouth, right? Harm slapped the door frame.

“Okay, I better get back down there and set things up. I’ll run back up here and let you know when to take over,” Harm said, directing her words to Anya. “And Cor’? When we end the lesson at sunrise, you gotta haul your Queen ass downstairs and strut your stuff to finish the lesson off. After this, my kids should be obedient, or else I’ll stake ‘em myself. C’mon Dennis!” And Harm moved away from the doorway.

“Harm!” she heard Queen C call. The vampire turned back with a ready glare.

“Yeah, Cordy?”

Cordelia, surprisingly, was smiling a little. “Nice seeing you again, Harm,” the brunette merely said.

“Same to you, Bitch,” Harm replied, then left for the stairs.

* * *

‘The Chicks Come Out At Night’


Buffy’s empty wheelchair squeaked slightly when the night breeze pushed it briefly. The chair remained where it was, sitting on the neighborhood sidewalk beside one of the streetside trees. Buffy, after a moment of reaching out with her preternatural hearing, relaxed, realizing that nothing human or inhuman had disturbed her chair. She returned to steadying her seated self on the front garden lawn of the house she and Ken’ were visiting. Okay, more like she and Ken’ were trespassing at. Buffy didn’t know the owners of the house, but she had made friends with their noisy, large watchdog. It had been necessary when she went out on patrol and passed his territory. That very same dog trotted up to her, salivating and bearing a big stick in its mouth. Buffy wrestled the stick away, fell over, then tossed it. Buster went bounding. Buffy righted herself again, then looked back at Ken’, who was busy with her handmade knife, carefully cutting at the ornamental orange tree that sat by the garden’s side.

“Done yet?” Buffy whispered, having no idea what the Jamaican Slayer wanted with the small tree’s large, long, and really deadly thorns. Ken’ dropped another of the wicked looking things on a bandana handkerchief by Buffy.

“Not yet, mon,” Kendra murmured back, slicing off another long thorn. Buffy put her injured finger in her mouth at the sight of one more of those things dropping into the handkerchief. Hey, she had only wanted to know if they really were as sharp as they looked, and Ken’ could have warned her before she picked one up. Buffy looked up and saw that Buster had come back with his stick. The large animal stopped to drop it just out of Buffy’s reach.

“WOOF WOOF WOOF,” Buster spoke, tail wagging. Buffy stared back, wide eyed, and could easily hear movement in the house behind the huge dog. The petite blonde threw herself forward for the stick, then tossed it away, Buster leaping in the air to chase it. She could hear footsteps approach the house door. Kendra was already wrapping up her stuff as Buffy went to her stomach and Army style crawled--using just her elbows of course--her frantic way to some cover.

“Buster! What’s up!” a male voice called out cautiously, and Buffy heard the click that signaled a floodlight was being turned on. Great, she and Ken’ had to trespass on the only property in Sunnydale where the owner didn’t follow the usual ‘ignore what goes bump in the night’ rule. Buffy only made it halfway into a set of bushes before she felt Kendra’s strong hands on her shoulders. The other Slayer pulled her roughly all the way through. The two girls laid flat and still, as dead as those they hunted, until the owner of the house satisfied his curiosity that all was well in his front yard. The floodlight clicked off and the front door finally closed.

Buffy put a hand to her mouth to stifle a nervous giggle. She heard Buster snuffle noisily where her useless legs were.

“Ken’, let’s get out of here before Buster pees on me!” Buffy whispered harshly, then tried to suppress more of her giggles. Kendra had gone to her stomach and was making a thumb motion to her back. Buffy rolled and dragged herself onto her sister Slayer’s back, her arms wrapping around her neck just as Kendra’s went behind to support the blonde’s butt. The Jamaican Slayer then did a ‘no hands’ push off the ground, forced her way through the brush, and made a dash for the garden’s front gate.

“WOOF!” Buster announced happily beside the running Slayer, bounding along. “WOOF WOOF!”

Buffy heard the front gate slam behind her and then Kendra was unceremoniously dumping the small blonde into her wheelchair. Buffy heaved herself quickly up by her arms to right herself.

“WOOF!” Buster bade from his enclosed territory as Ken’ sent the chair wildly rolling down into the asphalt street, the running girl pushing the chair hard enough to break a speed limit. Buffy began laughing out loud as she rattled in the stupid chair, not a car in sight as she and Kendra careened down the empty street.

“WOO,” Buffy cried, lifting her arms as she flew down into the dark night. At any moment, the skinny wheels were sure to rattle off and send her crashing, but it didn’t matter--right then she was flying free and Ken’ was laughing, for the first time to Buffy’s ears, a clear and warm sound behind the blonde and her runaway chair.

* * *

Anya looked down at her pretty, nail polished toes wrapped so nicely in Cordelia’s other set of Blahniks. She was very glad she had treated herself to that pedicure yesterday, and that she and the brunette had the same shoe size. Attractive feet were necessary when entering a room where others may have their face in the floor. Anya took a breath, squared her shoulders, and entered the first room on the ground level that held two naked man-pires. She felt the ghost reassuringly puff air at the edge of her hair.

“How nice,” Anya exclaimed out loud. “I like that, Dennis,” she said appreciatively to the ghost. She returned her attention to the naked man-pires. They were kneeling, two feet away from the ends of their beds, wrists shackled to each bed post and hands gripping the end boards. Their knees were kept wide apart by a restraining spread bar, which also displayed to easy view where certain devices had been applied to their genitalia--and to their back entrances. Anya nodded to herself at such thoroughness. The man-pires appeared quite tense, their muscles pulled taut by their positions and by the electric current coursing through certain sensitive regions, but Anya knew she would be making them even more tense. It was, after all, about reinforcing house rules and assuring her and Cordelia’s continued safety. Anya stepped to the nearest black control box and its dials, sitting upon the floor. It was a familiar sight, despite the modern cut of the box.

Anya remembered when such boxes were called ‘violet ray’ devices, back in the turn of the last century. Used to ‘heal’ humans of various illnesses, the former demon found it apt that this one time quack health treatment was now utilized as a kinky pleasure device. Anya had always suspected that the prescription of violet ray treatment for ‘hysteria’ in female patients was more about their doctors helpfully taking care of their patients’ unfulfilled, physical needs rather than treating actual ‘hysteria’. However, tonight, Anya was not present to play helpful quack doctor, but helpful vampire tormentor.

“Hello,” she said brightly, addressing the two taut backs before her. “My name is Anya, and I will be your tormentor this evening.” She picked up the box, then approached the man-pire the control unit was wired to. Anya made certain the bent over male could see her perfectly pedicured toes. “Let’s begin with a recitation of who I am, in relationship to you.”

* * *

Harmony ran along the earth and gravel path that lined Crawford Street. She was practically loping, and if she could see herself, she was certain she looked like some demented creature of the night, which, duh, she was. But that was what the night brought out in her; her own darkness emerging to greet the black sky and the risen shadows. This was the time of her pitch black domain, her hunting ground. Harm ran down Wills’ driveway, practicing that technique that made her step light and almost silent upon the cement. She slipped through the kitchen entrance, and immediately felt the powerful presence of Drusilla, somewhere in the living area. Harm didn’t bother to look at the elder vampire as she made for the stairs. She reached out with her senses for Will.

Master was hangin’ in her entertainment room, with the huge wide screen. Harm came to a stop and calmed herself before the partially shut door. She could hear Will’s soft voice, murmuring within. Harm frowned, knowing that Tara was at UC Sunnydale. There was no heartbeat in the room. The blonde vampire chanced it, and gave the door a light knock. She gently pushed the door open.

And was bowled over by the 6x4 foot, freeze framed image of a naked, chained Tara apparently in the throes of One Big Happy on the big screen. Harm tore her bugged out eyes away and latched them upon Will, who sat sprawled on the couch, a cell phone at her ear and her other hand casually fingering a remote. Harm watched Will’s slender finger caress and press a button and felt the light from the big screen change. Harm couldn’t help it, she glanced at the screen and its new image and immediately skittered eyes away again.

FUCK, Tara was really hot!!

Which was a thought that really disturbed Harm, even though she knew that she was now pretty much bisexual, thanks to vampirehood. She really wanted to ask Wills why that was, sometime--the bisexuality thing. The only other female Harm had sex with since becoming a vampire--besides Will--was Elise, and that was all about her sorta ‘sire’ relationship with her girl kid. Noticing Tara was not healthy for her unlife--hello, Master’s Pet!! Harm desperately reminded herself. However, the real fact of the matter was, that Tara-attraction squeeched her out big time. It was like wanting to boink her own human sister--if the blonde vampire ever had one. Harm shuddered. Violently.

“....do y’think you did well on the quiz?” Harm heard Willow softly ask. She watched the redhead’s finger push the advance button on her remote. Click. Click. “That’s good, baby. I know you’ll ace that class.” Harm heard the shift of body weight upon sofa leather, and raised her wide eyes to Wills’ green ones glancing back at her. “Baby, I gotta go, but can you call me before you go to sleep tonight? Yes. Yes.” Wills had returned her attention to the big screen and was grinning--really big. “Have fun in art class tonight. Talk to you later, Kitten.” As Willow removed the phone from her ear, Harm felt the light from the big screen black out. Her boss stood her slim self up and was reaching for her leather coat.

“Ready to go huntin’, Harm?” Willow invited with a smile, and Harmony promptly forgot squeechy feelings regarding Tara-nakedness and grinned eagerly back at Wills.

As they ran down the stairs for the living area, Harm was surprised when Wills invited her sire to join them. They jumped into Willow’s vintage convertible, Drusilla dominating the back and Harm enjoying the honor of riding shotgun. They sped off into the night.

Just yesterday, Willow had dropped the bomb on Harm that Cordy was still alive. Before Harm could even recover from that bit of news, the redhead gave the order that placed Harmony directly under Cordy’s thumb in Queen Bitch’s house.

And then Willow dropped the big nuke: No Killing.

Harm couldn’t help it. She started shaking right there in Wills’ Sanctum.

“Wanna take this outside, Harmony?” Wills had suggested softly, her green eyes so fucking cold and glittery. Harm’s demon couldn’t take it anymore. Even though there was still that tiny, sane part of her that knew going outside could mean her unlife, she had nodded.

Once outside in Willow’s garden, Harmony screamed at her Master.

She screamed about Cordy, she screamed about being a sheep, she screamed about Xander and Luke and why the fuck was Willow fucking with her and how the Fuck was she supposed to be a fucking good vampire if she couldn’t Fucking Kill and then Harm really lost it and leapt, both fists flying for calm, quiet, no emotion Willow.

And that was when Willow beat her sorry, fucked ass, but good.

Beat her like a sire would beat a childe. Threw, kicked, and struck her repeatedly without once losing her temper or even throwing an insult at her. Dislocated her arm without so much as a demeaning blink. The blonde could hardly believe it--she, the disgraced, discarded childe of Xander and the butt monkey of Luke was being paid childer attention by every thoughtful hurt Wills graced her with. Harm got flung one final time, and ended up lying all bloodied up in Willow’s thorny rose bushes. Her undead heart swelled against her will and she nearly cried like a wuss as she stared up at the night sky.

Harmony, still the royally Fucked. But now with respect.

“Didn’t go for the face, Harm,” Willow had said to her, almost apologetically. “Don’t want to scare Delia when you go meet her.”

Harmony tried to laugh but it came out more like a sob.

“I don’t know how to not kill, Will,” Harm had finally admitted, her throat scratchy as she stared into the night sky. Will’s eyes had bored right into her, like she were mere paper--mere fucking tissue paper, so easy to scatter and tear.

“I’ll teach you, Harm,” Willow had finally promised, and Harmony nearly got something wet in her eyes for the second time that night.

Harmony sat back in Wills’ convertible, blonde hair raging in the night wind, and watched Sunnydale pass by with cold, unreadable eyes. Drusilla was sing songing some silly something in the back seat.

“Penny for your thoughts, Harm,” she heard Willow’s smiling voice ask.

“Kay say-rah, say-rah,” Harmony merely said. Willster didn’t reply, but Harm could practically feel her Master’s smile double at the words.

* * *

The three vampires entered a popular bar right on Main Street. Drusilla sailed her insane self right in, easily insinuating her slim body and dreamy, dark, ‘come hither’ looks into the rather bland, but noisy, yuppie-ish crowd. Harm was surprised by the elder vampire’s sudden transformation from koo koo vampire to prowlly seductress. She watched Dru laugh at some clueless guy’s obviously lecherous come-on, then let her mouth gentle into a toothy, charming smile, her dark eyes never leaving the man standing before her. Mr. Clueless seemed to actually quiet before the elder vampiress’ unwavering gaze, entranced. Harm felt a cold glass pressed into her hand by Willow. She looked down only for a second. Cherry coke.

“Is she using the thrall?” Harm whispered in awe to Willow, knowing that Wills could still hear her despite the noise of the bar.

“No,” she heard Wills whisper in her ear. “Just what all childer seem to inherit once they Rise.” She could tell Wills was smiling just from the tone of her soft voice. “Simple, sex appeal. Watch Mum now. Watch how she’ll drink from him, right here, in front of everyone.”

And Harm watched, covertly, as Dru led her prey over to the wall, listening to him chat. She watched as the dark haired woman feint an inability to hear her victim’s words--watched as the taller man bent forward, and then stiffened in Dru’s loving grasp, his body hiding the elder vampire’s transformation to demon. Harm watched as Dru drank enough to weaken the man, his eyes shutting. Then the vampiress slipped away, wiping her mouth with a finger. She left her prey unconscious and still standing, propped against the wall. Even with the man’s closed eyes, the pose actually appeared natural, like he were busy thinking. Harm felt the glass in her hand tilt slightly and looked down to see Willow’s fingers fish the maraschino cherry from her coke.

“Let’s go,” Wills said. “He’ll fall over soon.”

In only a few seconds she and Wills were on the street, leaving the bar far behind. Harm couldn’t see Dru anywhere.

“Wow,” she finally blew from her lips, feeling that what she had witnessed definitely deserved some exhale of dead air. “That was like So. Slick.”

Will just smiled briefly, her tongue fiddling with something in her mouth.

“I don’t know if, um.” Harm felt suddenly self conscious. Dru was like, a hundred seventy something years old. Harm was totally freshman year compared to an elder vampire’s vast experience in the art of super suave, seduction tactics. “I mean, chatting up kills just to kill ‘em is one thing...”

“You’ll develop your own style,” Wills assured breezily, still working her mouth. “I just wanted to show you where you’re headed when you become a master hunter. We’ll start you with something simple that even a minion can do.” Then Wills suddenly spat into the palm of her hand. She looked at whatever she had spit out, disappointment on her slender face.

“Phooey,” Wills pouted. “I don’t know how Kitten does it.” Harm peered at her boss’ hand, seeing an extremely mangled cherry stem in it.

“Oh that,” Harm remarked. “I can’t do that trick either, but Bitch C knows how.”

“Can Delia tie a double knot?” Wills asked as she flung the offending cherry stem out into the busy night street. Harm thought she saw it hit a passing car. “Kitten can.”

Harm laughed. “Wills, Chases can do anything.” The blonde’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “It’s just that ninety nine percent of what they could do is beneath them.” Willow actually chuckled along with her.

“C’mon,” her boss beckoned with a smirk, suddenly crossing the street and cutting between the moving cars. “Let’s find you something to bite.”

* * *

Buffy reached up with her stick and coaxed the fire in the park’s barbecue pit. The fresh made stakes she had whittled in the library earlier in the day were laid in a row beside where she sat in the sand, awaiting their baptism by fire. She had known of this method meant to harden her wood weapons, but never thought to just try it, in the park. When Kendra first brought Buffy out here, she had to teach the blonde Slayer how to build a fire and how to keep it going. Buffy felt like a complete tenderfoot next to her very self-sufficient, Ms. Survivalist, sister Slayer.

Ken’ got herself to Sunnydale with just the clothes on her back and one stake, hitching a ride in a plane’s cargo hold. When Buffy could get Kendra to talk about herself, she was graced with some pretty cool tales. The second Slayer spoke of nights spent sleeping on beaches and in tropical groves, right under the stars. She talked of fishing in the ocean, of diving out to hunt a man eater shark, of climbing the tallest palms she could find and seeing if she could survive their height when she dropped--on purpose. She talked of hunts held in tropical storms with a fierceness in her dark eyes, and of how she learned to make her own bow and arrows, spears, sling shot, and ax. Buffy, who could at least boast proudly of her ability to make mom’s special fruit tart, was eager then, to find out what the heck Ken’ intended with the thorns they liberated from that ornamental orange tree. Even now, as she poked the fire, Ken’ was laying out the thorns and dividing them up into two piles.

“So are you going to tell me now,” Buffy insisted, wishing Kendra would just look up so she could work the ‘Summers pout’ on her friend. Ken’ just pointedly ignored her.

“You got some stakes to cook, mon,” Kendra merely said. She got up, and went to crouch at the backpack she had hooked up to the back of Buffy’s wheelchair. She pulled something out and then tossed two items at the blonde Slayer. Buffy caught them easily and looked at them. Perfectly sized sweet potatoes to roast in the fire.

“Cool,” Buffy declared with a big grin, laying them beside the stakes. She and Kendra had eaten well at mom’s, but sometimes running around in the night air got a Slayer’s appetite going again.

“Irie,” Ken’ corrected.

“Irie,” Buffy repeated. “Okay, what else,” she demanded, clapping her hands in anticipation. Kendra’s wide mouth broke into a very reluctant--and rare--grin, and the Jamaican Slayer merely hung her head and shook it.

“Awww, Ken’ Ken’ Ken’,” Buffy pouted, putting the Summers’ charm on for full effect now that she got Kendra’s attention. The other girl rolled her dark eyes, but Buffy sensed her final capitulation.

“I knew it!” the blonde slayer squealed, as Kendra reached a hand into the back pack. Ken’ tossed the long object to Buffy. The blonde Slayer swiped it easily from the air, and then looked at it. It was a long, wooden--bamboo, she guessed--pipe. She looked at the ends, each of which had a hole, which she assumed was continuous. Yep, a pipe.

“You want me to put this in the fire too?” Buffy asked with a frown. Ken’s face broke into an even rarer big grin, and the Jamaican had to look down.

“Okay, wait....it’s a flute? With no finger holes? You’re going to show me how to whittle a flute.”

Ken’ was still looking down at the grass from where she crouched by Buffy’s wheelchair. Was Kendra trying to not laugh at her??

“What? It’s a...a big whistle? A tobacco smoking thingie?”

Now Buffy could see for sure that Kendra’s shoulders were shaking. If she could stamp her useless, non feeling foot, Buffy would, so she just struck the sand with her effective small fist instead.

“Ken’!!” Buffy whined. “C’mon, I’m the girl who thinks food only comes from supermarkets, okay? What is it?”

Kendra finally looked up at the small blonde sitting up by the fire, her lidded dark eyes sparkling. The Jamaican Slayer brought a fist to her mouth, lips at the hole made by her curled thumb and forefinger, and very deliberately, blew one hard breath through it. Buffy finally put two and two together. If she could, she would’ve hopped right where she sat. Her hands came together suddenly to fondle her cool gift.

“It’s a, it’s a blow gun,” Buffy whispered, her hazel eyes grown big with excitement. The possibilities such a gift opened up to her made her heart beat fast. She looked down at the thorns and then at her new weapon cradled in her small hands.

“You can practice with dat pile,” Ken’ then indicated with her chin to the two piles of thorns. “And the other pile, I will show you how to make a poison you can dip dem in.”

Buffy looked up. “You mean...knock-outs, for vamps?”

Kendra affirmed with a grave nod of the head, but her eyes were sparkling. “They can’t die from poison, but I know one that puts dem down, freezes the limbs. You shoot, I move in--” From where she crouched, the second Slayer swept powerfully with her arm, making the staking swing. “They be dust, mon.”

“Irie,” Buffy whispered, looking down at her awesome new weapon. “Totally irie.”

“Totally,” Kendra echoed, grinning fiercely.

“Irie,” Buffy completed, looking up with an equally fierce, familiar gleam in her eyes. “Totally irie, man.”

* * *

Harm stepped back from the guy who had just passed out. He started to slide down the alley wall. Harm put him in a seated position on a convenient crate. Nope, still looked like some passed out fucker. She folded his arms. Okay, maybe now he looked like he was napping. She really was hoping for a more lively, thinking man look, though. She glanced back at where Wills was watching her. The boss was obviously laughing. Harm just rolled her eyes and shrugged, then followed Wills out of the alley way.

Her first time just skimming off a victim passerby had been kind of difficult--she was so used to sucking hard and going for that joyous, last thunder of a dying human’s beating heart. Now she had to tune out that killer glee, count slowly--like Wills taught her--and come away with only a few mouthfuls and be content with that. She had never understood how ‘pires who fed off bleeders did it--resisted the killer instinct--but Willow said it just took practice. Biting volunteer bleeders though, were for loser (Harm liked to call them ‘chicken’) type vamps who weren’t into--or just weren’t very good at--hunting. Real vampires knew how to master their live meals, with or without killing. Harm followed Willster as the redhead led the blonde vampire to a movie multiplex.

“What would you like to see?” Wills asked her pleasantly, as she laid a twenty down at the box office window.

“Something with alot of screams,” Harm simply replied. Wills picked up two tickets and they walked into the dimly lit theater lobby that reeked of artificial popcorn butter and foot odor carpeting. Sometimes Harm hated having a vampire’s sense of scent, especially when she had to travel in the sewers. That was one very good reason for not having to breathe--when she sucked in air on purpose, that was when she got a nose or mouthful. Harm ignored the different stinks and just focused on the scent of Wills as they strolled leisurely for one of the multiplex’s many theaters. Her boss approached a set of shut doors.

“Now that you know how to stop yourself during the feed,” Wills was telling her. “You’re going to practice stealth and subtlety. Pick about three people inside, and make it as good for them, as it will be good for you,” the redhead instructed softly with a smirk. Wills opened the door, and a cinematic, high pitched scream from the theater sound system hit Harm’s ears.

“Cool,” the blonde vampire said with a snarl.

Once inside, Willow settled herself in a backrow seat, and Harm checked out her oblivious, potential victims. She liked to go for the ones who smelled nice. Unfortunately, a horror film audience seemed to consist of snuggly couples, snuggly friend groups, and single men. Harm sighed to herself, using her nose to find one male victim who might’ve recently bathed, or didn’t knock her over with a bad choice of cologne. She found one, and slid up in the row behind him. Stealth, Wills had said. Subtlety. Harm leaned in like she knew the guy, possibly with the intention of whispering intimately into his ear. Her hand came around and easily covered his mouth. She felt her victim stiffen in panic. Any moment now, he’ll cause a scene. Words, maybe? Could that be part of the new technique? Harm only spoke to her victims in order to scare the fuck out of them. She’ll try this new thing.

“Hey,” she whispered, beneath the thunder of the theater sound system. “Lemme give you something you might like.” She could practically scent the man’s surprise at her words. Score one for Harm. She gave his neck a deliberate, long lick to get the message across. Then she went to demon face and sank her fangs in. She didn’t sink them in rough and hard, which was her usual way--this time she tried for quick and sweet. Harm couldn’t believe it, but the guy literally melted in her firm hold as she sucked his blood. When her prey finally passed out, Harm made sure his head was at a comfortable, upright position, and slipped away. She took an end seat in Will’s row, but when her boss didn’t make any indication to Harm, she remained where she was for a few minutes, mentally reviewing her first performance at seduction. Well it hadn’t sucked--figuratively--but it had been kind of awkward, and somehow Drusilla had done it way faster and more efficiently. Oh well, practice made for perfect. Harm left her seat and made her way around to victim number two.

Half an hour later, Harm followed Wills out of the theater into the multiplex’s hallway, three unconscious victims left behind.

“So,” the blonde vampire said nervously as she glanced at her boss. “How’d I do?”

“Very good, Harm,” Wills praised, and though her stare was her usual ‘Master Wills’ stare, Harm could sense that the redhead was genuinely pleased. “You didn’t kill any of them, and I’m pretty sure they enjoyed it as much as you did.”

Harm face broke into a big grin. Wills walked away and towards the theater opposite. The doors were open, the full lights were on, and only the pre-show slides were playing. Harm followed Willow in, curious as to what her boss was going to show her next. Theater patrons sat scattered, and some rose to fetch snacks. Others entered to find seats. Willow turned to Harmony with a gentle smirk.

“Try for two in here,” Wills instructed. “Before house lights dim.”

Ohhhh fuck, Harm thought frantically, and rubbed her palms on her black jeans. Under the freakin’ lights?? Talk about fucking performance anxiety!!

Half an hour later, a still nervous Harmony followed her slim, smirky boss out of the theater as previews rolled. Wills looked back at her.

“You’re not much of an exhibitionist, are you, Harm,” the redhead remarked cutely, her big, green eyes twinkling. Fucking perv, the blonde vampire thought sourly. It’s always the quiet ones that got off on damn kink. Harm should’ve known though, that Wills would push the public part of the lesson quicker. Look at how she treats Tara.

“Fuck,” was all Harm commented on that. Then she felt contrite about something else. “Sorry I couldn’t get to the last one in time, Wills,” she added self consciously. Her second victim, she had to put the bite on while previews began rolling, so she had failed one of Willow’s requirements. She was thankful though, that she had picked prey who actually came to the theater alone. If a family member or friend had returned with popcorn and found her in mid-bite, she would’ve been so royally screwed.

“No worries, Harm,” Wills assured, and actually laid a slender hand briefly on her shoulder. “It takes practice to get your meal fast and easy during a soft play. Alot harder than taking without a thought or a plan, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harm agreed slowly, going into ‘pensive frown’ as she followed Willow to the lobby. “Geez Will, that makes me sound like some common animal,” the blonde vampire noted. Vampires were killer beasties, duh, but Harm hated to think that all this time she’d been conducting herself no better than like a dumb minion. She was a childe for christ sakes, but then well, with a stupid sire like Xander and a ‘parent’ like Luke...

“You were,” Willster clarified. “But now you’re going to be an intelligent, more sophisticated animal.” Wills headed for the concessions counter.

“Wills,” Harm began, remembering a question she’d always been burning to ask, but never had the right to, until probably now. She hoped. “How do you do it, spend so much time with Tara, and not want to....?”

Willow leaned on the brightly lit glass counter and looked at Harm.

“I uh,” Harm added hesitantly. She tried to explain herself. “I wasn’t in the Order that long, but I saw childer go through pets like fast food toys. Not that I’m implying you’re like those childer, which you are so not--”

“You have to see them as more than food,” Willow interrupted quietly. She finally acknowledged the concessions stand attendant who was waiting patiently, and tapped a slender finger for two different items beneath the glass. Her green, lidded eyes never left Harm. “The qualities you enjoy in them that are beyond merely the beat of their blood will supplant your base hunger.”

“Okay,” Harm said slowly. That was a sophisticated sentence to digest, so she took a moment to digest it. Willow turned her attention to laying a few bits of cash on the counter for her items. “I mean, I would, for a human like Tara. But Cordy and that Anya chick?...They’re not Tara.”

Willow smiled at her then, that knowing smirk that would just get to Harm and irritate the hell out of her. Although, interestingly enough, not right now. Maybe she was finally getting a handle on the ‘intelligent animal’ thing, Harm mused to herself. The redhead straightened from where she had leaned on the glass counter and looked at Harmony thoughtfully.

“Then you’ll have only two choices to rely on when you feel bitey around Delia and Anya, Harm,” Willow sighed, that smirk not quite leaving her face.

“What’s that Wills?”

Willster presented her with something. Harm looked down.

“Smokes,” Willow stated emphatically. “Or gum.”

And her boss handed her a seven piece roll of bubblegum.

* * *

‘Tough Chick Confessions’


Cordy slept lightly on the den’s sofa, a silk sleeved arm resting over her eyes. For the past three hours, Anya had walked into the ‘minions wing’--as it was now currently dubbed by the co-mistresses of the house--and systematically taken one full hour to cover lessons for each minion. The first time Anya had done it, Cordy could not remain in her bedroom, and quietly walked barefoot down to the first level, carrying the now trusty shorty. She had paced silently in the reception area while listening to Anya’s clear, matter of fact voice recite the facts and laws of Cordy’s house and then had the minion currently being trained, repeat them after her.

It actually didn’t phase Cordy when she heard the vamps getting painfully zapped after each of Anya’s recitations. The brunette even ceased pacing and found herself unconsciously moving her body through old cheerleader routines. She had no idea why. If it was her subconscious getting her body to ‘cheer’ Anya on, it was pretty darn lame, so Cordy forced herself to quit the cheerleading and returned to pacing. When Anya got to the little girl vamp however, the ex-cheerleader could no longer listen in. She retreated to the kitchen, made Anya some coffee, and then waited by the staircase where she couldn’t quite hear what the ex-demon had to submit the girl vamp to.

When Anya had finally emerged, she and Cordy had gone back upstairs, where the slim blonde flipped through the latest Cosmo and Cordy idly painted her toe nails a new color. Then the hour was up, and Anya returned to the ‘work’, and Cordelia went to wait for the ex-demon in the ground floor’s den.

The familiar sound of expensive high heels striking marble immediately woke her and Cordy’s arm automatically fell to where her shorty lay beside her on the den carpeting. As her fingers brushed against cool, smooth metal, Anya entered the room. The blonde girl looked tired. The ex-demon immediately went to the bar and accessed Mrs. Chase’s drink of choice--Absolut. Anya poured a three-finger shot and knocked it back without a flinch. Cordy was impressed.

“Sure you wanted to do that?” the brunette asked as she lifted herself from the couch. Anya walked over, sat down in the love seat and finally toed her borrowed Blahniks off. “I thought you said the ‘work’ required a clear mind.”

Anya looked up from where she sat on the love seat.

“Do you have pickled cucumbers? Or pumpernickel bread? It usually helps to take the edge off the intoxication,” the blonde remarked. “As a demon, I was a big vodka drinker, but finding the tolerance level of this body has been trying. My first hangover was a horrifying experience. I think I hated Tara’s cure even more.”

“Russian type snack foods I can’t help you with, but maybe my dad left behind a can of nuts,” Cordy remarked as she made her way to the bar and behind it. “He’s a big cashews fan,” she added with a grin, which quickly faded when she remembered his current predicament. Cordy sobered and she made a mental note to find out if it were possible to send her dad a care package that would survive prison inspection. She found a fresh can of mixed nuts for Anya and placed them before the ex-demon. The blonde immediately fished through them and picked out all the huge, oily Brazilians.

“Yuck,” Cordy remarked. “Those taste like dirt.”

“More for me, then,” Anya commented, but the way she seemed to stare without actually looking at anything, and chew the nuts almost automatically, made Cordy slightly worried. She hardly knew Anya, but this withdrawn state did not seem typical of the ex-demon.

“I wish I could call Tara,” Anya suddenly spoke.

“Why don’t you?” Cordy frowned. Since becoming very sensitive to her own experience of wishing out loud, the brunette was surprised to hear the former wish demon carelessly voice one.

“If I do, I’ll allow myself to get too emotional--weak emotional. Like right now, I actually made a wish. Needing Tara makes me do things like that. But then when I talk to her, these strange feelings I have seem to resolve and I’m all right again. But I can’t do that now--have ‘tears’ time or ‘uncertainty’ time. They can smell it. If I call Tara I’ll break the ‘mistress’ impression, and it’s important to maintain that impression during this all night lessons session.”

Cordy suddenly sat up. “Wait a minute,” she whispered. “Do you think they can still hear us? We forgot to take ‘mistress’ talk upstairs.”

Anya looked back at her with a very wide eyed ‘oh shit’ kind of face.

They heard a click, and when the two young women turned to the location of the sound, Cordy noticed that the entertainment center’s cd player had been activated.

“Dennis!” she exclaimed. “We don’t know what’s in the player--”

And then the swell of music filled the den--with Doris Day’s voice.

“When I was just a little girl, I ask my mother what will I be,” Doris’ clear voice sang.

“Oh great, my mom’s all time favorite song,” Cordy groaned. Anya only cocked her head, intrigued.

“Will I be pretty, will I be rich, here’s what she said to me. Que Sera Seraaaaa, Whatever will be, will beee--”

Cordelia rose to shut the music off, but Anya stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Wait,” Anya urged. “I like this.”

“You’re a Doris Day fan too?” Cordy asked incredulously.

“Who?” Anya asked, perplexed. She gave the song another listen. “I mean, I like this because it’s appropriate. It’s perky, yet resigned. It has a bright sound, but its message is depressing. It’s practically Communist! If we play this song through the night it will add to the reinforcement of the lessons.”

Cordy gave Anya only one look, then went to the cd player. As soon as the song ended, she pressed a few buttons to get the one song to loop.

“Okay, done,” she announced, as Doris began again. When Cordy turned to look at Anya, the blonde was staring into space again. Cordelia went to sit beside her on the love seat.

“Look, I know I’m not Tara, but whatever inner angst moppet’s got a hold of you, you got to spank it, already. How about just telling me what’s wrong?”

“I’ve hurt something,” Anya said simply, but she frowned as she said it, like as if she found the statement utterly foreign.

Cordy frowned as well, although as briefly as possible. “You should take a break,” she finally said gently. “I’ll take the next shift--”

“No,” Anya interrupted. “Your personality’s like Harmony’s, confrontational. My approach lacks emotional attachment. It doesn’t make them want to fight back, it only depresses them and makes them want to submit. You know, just to get rid of me.” Anya suddenly smiled, a spark of the girl Cordy was more familiar with, returning. “I seem to bring out that reaction in people.”

“Let’s return to that inner angst moppet you’re supposed to be spanking,” Cordy advised. Anya fretted beside her.

“For a thousand years I made males suffer,” the ex-demon said. “I feel nothing more about my previous life except pride and satisfaction in what I felt was good work done.”

“But now?” Cordy urged.

“Now, I feel the same. These are vampires. As painful as the lessons are, they are still demons who have an appreciation for pain, and respect for the one who can give it to them. But what’s different now, is that I’ve hurt a girl.”

Anya continued to stare off into space, frowning slightly as she sought her next words.

“She can barely withstand what is happening to her,” Anya stated finally.

Cordy felt her stomach plummet. Even to Anya, the big eyed girl shackled up somewhere a few rooms over was not just some simple vampire. Even to Anya, whose personal experience wouldn’t let her be easily deceived by human guise, the girl-pire was not just some demon to discipline without pity nor sympathy.

“That’s...guilt...you’re feeling,” Cordy attempted nervously. She sat up, palms anxiously rubbing on her black slacks. God, Tara would be so much better at this. “It’s perfectly natural to...”

“This? You mean this feeling?” Anya’s slender hands fluttered. She suddenly stood up, agitated. “No! I worked it out in my imagination. If Harmony were in there turning the dial, I still hurt. If it were you doing it, I still hurt. I hurt when she hurts. Isn’t guilt about fault? This isn’t about fault it’s--” Anya’s face began to crumble and she gestured helplessly with her arms. “It’s pain. It’s another new pain I have to deal with just because something in me hurts when the little female vampire hurts and I can’t--” Her voice finally broke. “I don’t--know--how...”

Cordy stood up and quickly folded the ex-demon into her arms. Anya fell awkwardly yet willingly into them. She clung to Cordy and finally wept miserably.

“Anya,” the ex-cheerleader soothed, as she hugged the blonde girl. “You’re feeling compassion...empathy. You’re just caring, sweetheart. It’s okay to care.”

“But,” she heard Anya protest, her voice affected by her tears. “You never cared. You do...a little, now. I know, or else you would have touched the girl with your cattle prod without a second thought. But before, you never did. You never hurt. You’d hurt everyone else but never felt it yourself. Xander, Willow. Buffy. Over and over. You didn’t feel.”

Cordelia felt cold. In a daze, she woodenly removed her arms from Anya’s embrace. She stepped away, turning her back on the girl who now looked at her. A girl whose voice had a hint of admiration that sickened Cordy to her very core.

“Show me how you did it,” she heard Anya ask hopefully. The ex-demon sniffled. “Show me how you couldn’t hurt when you hurt others. Is it a Chase secret? You had your own particular way of giving pain, so I thought perhaps it was taught in the family--”

Cordelia didn’t realize it, but her hands curled into tight fists. Alarmed at the sight, Anya scrambled to place the love seat between her and the brunette who still had her back to her.

“Y-You’re angry,” Anya exclaimed. “I’ve said something again. You’re very angry. And you have a gun. Please don’t shoot me.”

“No, I--” The anger that Cordelia had felt immediately dissipated at the fear in Anya’s voice. “I’m just--OH, I’m just angry at myself, not at you, doofus!” She turned around to look at the now nervous ex-demon. “Anya, please, I--would you just get over here! I’m not going to hurt you!”

Anya jumped, and then scampered to the front of the love seat again. She kept the coffee table between herself and the brunette, however. Anya then tried to put a smile on her face. Cordelia just felt like laughing bitterly--much in the fashion of her bitter mother. Since when did Cordelia Chase, vamp bait and constant--ungrateful--damsel in distress for superhero Buffy, become such a physical threat? But perhaps in Anya’s inexperienced human mind, Cordelia’s ability to wield emotional harm was the same as harm given to the body. Since Cordy had no intention of indulging her inner bitter mom, she’ll instead attempt to blow a hole in the new inner angst moppet that had deigned to appear.

“Anya, the Chase secret?” Cordy was not surprised by the huge stab of pain she felt, at witnessing the blonde girl’s face light up. “The Chase secret is selfishness. Pure, evil, selfishness. And arrogance. The kind of arrogance that makes you pretend you don’t feel hurt when you’re dishing it out, or when you’re taking it in. It’s all just a really good act. A big, selfish, phony, mean act, Anya. You don’t want that.”

“But--” Anya frowned. “I don’t want to feel the hurt.”

Cordy took a breath. She latched onto a thought. “Think of it this way,” she offered, as she stepped towards the ex-demon. “Who would you rather be strong like: Tara, or me?”

“Both,” Anya immediately replied.

Cordelia was utterly floored. She could not understand for the life of her how Anya could equate Cordelia ‘Power’ with Tara Power. To Cordy, who knew the depth of her own fearful selfishness and shallowness, that was like saying fake strength was as good as the real thing.

“Okay, how about this,” Cordy tried again. “If you were exactly like how I was before? Would you have even been friends with Tara?”

“No,” Anya stated adamantly. “You were terrible.”

“There, see?” Cordelia pointed out triumphantly. “Like you said. I was terrible. And stupid. I mean, wouldn’t a stupid person not be able to appreciate someone like Tara? And Willow? And Xander? That just shows you how smart you are now in comparison!”

Anya beamed suddenly, completely radiant. She even had the audacity in her new happiness to look a little smug.

“I don’t want your Chase secret anymore,” Anya declared.

“Good!” Cordy agreed with a nod. “It’s only meant for us terrible Chases anyway.”

“Terrible, stupid Chases.”

“Don’t push it, Anya.”

Before Anya could though, she happened to catch sight of the clock.

“Ten more minutes!” she exclaimed. She touched her cheeks. She needed to wash the scent of tears off.

“Go in seven minutes late,” Cordelia urged, as Anya applied water from the bar sink to her face.

“What?” Anya queried.

“Go in late, see the girl first, and cut her punishment time down,” Cordy advised. “Or if you’re seeing her later, I can walk in and call you away for some made up important excuse.”

“I’ll go in late, and see her first,” Anya chose. “She was last, the last time around, and that had built up her fear.”

God, Cordy mentally exclaimed. The ‘doberman’ theory was completely thrown out the window with this little girl vamp! The old Queen C easily crept back into her voice. “Why is she like that?”

“She’s a toy,” Anya simply answered, as if Cordelia would understand. The ex-demon suddenly hopped. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she announced and promptly left the den. The brunette just blinked. She had absolutely no idea what Anya had just meant when referring to the little girl-pire as a ‘toy’.

“Oohhh!!” the brunette decided to sharply exhale, venting her frustration.

Finally Cordy sighed, looked at the clock with its antique face and realized there was still more of the night ahead of them. She decided to at least put away thoughts of their girl vampire problem until she could properly discuss it when she wasn’t tired. The brunette went to the couch, wearily laid down, and placed her arm over her eyes. She felt Dennis blow softly upon her cheek.

“Dennis, watch over Anya. I’ll be all right,” Cordy murmured. The familiar, clear tones of Doris Day assaulted her vulnerable senses. If she were having a guilt session--which she actually was--she would have found the torment of listening to her mom’s favorite song over and over pretty fitting. She heard something move above her, and before she could make a move herself, she felt a light peck of soft lips on her cheek. Startled, Cordy raised her arm from her eyes and looked up at a smiling Anya, who was kneeling beside the couch.

“You are very good at spanking one’s inner angst moppet,” the blonde girl announced. “And you have very nice cheekbones.” Anya then looked at Cordelia curiously. “You’re not saying anything. Did I not do that right? Sometimes Tara kisses me like that. She says it’s a friend thing.” Anya’s brightness faded. “You and I must not be friends,” she realized.

“No!” Cordy protested. “I mean, Yes! Yes, we are! Just--come here!”

Cordelia placed a hand behind Anya’s neck and urged her down. She got up on an elbow to meet the ex-demon’s face. She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“There!” Queen C declared. “Friends!”

To her relief, Anya’s bright smile returned. The blonde girl regained her feet and hurried over to where the Blahniks lay. She slipped them on.

“I’ll be back in less than an hour,” she said cheerfully. Cordy fell back upon the couch cushions.

“I’ll be here,” she answered with a smile, and watched Anya depart. She heard Doris Day start her song again.

Who needs guilt, she thought, realizing that the tears that had threatened before Anya’s surprise kiss had now receded. Who needs to waste time on that, and all the regrets that can’t be taken back, when working on something new and good was so much better time spent.

Satisfied with that self-realization, Cordelia Chase dropped a hand to feel where the shotgun lay, and placed her other arm over her eyes again. Doris Day serenaded her to light slumber.

“Que Sera Sera, Whatever will be will be
The future’s not ours to see, Que Sera Seraaaa...”

* * *

“Fooo,” Buffy blew meditatively into her new blow gun. She was lying on her back, aiming for a bright star in the clear night sky. Kendra sat by the fire, having taken over Buffy’s fire tending duties. The roasted sweet potatoes were all eaten, and a soft wood board now lay propped against the fire pit, several long thorns embedded into the crudely drawn target on its surface. Ken’ had commented that gluing feathers to the ends of the thorns would make them fly better.

“We are so not going to raid chicken houses for feathers,” Buffy had reacted loudly.

Kendra had merely given her the Look--Ken’s patiently suffering, ‘What you be thinkin’, mon??’ look--and had produced a package of tiny, loose, fishing lure feathers and a super glue bottle. Forty five minutes later, several carefully crafted, feathered thorn-darts stood drying in the sand. Buffy only managed to ruin three of them.

“Fooo,” Buffy blew again, aiming for another star. Her back had begun aching--alot, which had interrupted her eager, practice session to riddle her target board full of sharp thorn-darts, courtesy of super powered Slayer lungs. Thankfully, Kendra, the Slayer who ‘did not do hugs’, was willing to give Buffy’s lower back a much needed massage when the blonde finally had to take a break.

“I need to do more swimming,” Buffy suddenly spoke outloud, to noone in particular. She blew musically into her pipe again. She heard the fire pop, and craned her neck to see what Kendra was up to. The Jamaican Slayer was fishing a newly hardened stake out of the fire.

“So when are you going to show me how to make this vamp knock out drug,” Buffy demanded.

“Soon as I go to de Box and buy them ‘erbs, mon,” Kendra murmured, busy shoving sand over the hot stake.

“Couldn’t you have brought them over when you snuck into the country?” Buffy asked impatiently.

Kendra finally stared at Buffy, incredulous.

“And meybe get arrested along de way for possession of de mysterious ‘erbs, no way, mon!” the Jamaican scoffed. Buffy giggled.

“Sorry,” the blonde apologized. She sighed, and lay back again to gaze up into the night sky. “I’m just antsy, I guess. You’re giving me a chance to help with the action. I’m...thanks for that, Ken’.”

“No problem,” Buffy heard Kendra solemnly answer, and again the fire made its hiss and crackle, as it gave up another stake. The blonde Slayer heard the weapon hit the sand with a thud. “With two of us, we can even take on de Wicked.”

Buffy stiffened at the quiet words, and clutched her blow gun to her chest. A deadening chill gripped her.

When Kendra had tried to stake Vamp Willow in the hospital room, every cell in Buffy’s body had screamed Not Yet. The Slayer in her had known what had to be, ever since both of Xand and Wills’ deaths, but the girl in her had not been ready. And when the Willow demon had offered her unprotected chest to Buffy’s stake, the Slayer knew it had not been a warrior’s disdain of the cheap kill that prevented her from driving that wood into the vampire’s heart.

Hope held my hand back, Buffy’s mind whispered distantly back to her. A stupid, false thought...yet even knowing that, with demon Willow’s vulnerable, dead heart offered her, Buffy had still not been able to do it. Not then.

“Ken’,” Buffy finally spoke, and found her voice stiff with suppressed emotion. She worked her throat. “I need to tell you something.”

Silence fell for a while, as Buffy tried to choose what she wanted to say. She turned her head once more from her unseeing regard of the stars to spy how Kendra was. The other girl was still seated by the fire, her young face and dark eyes without expression, but they were patient, and receptive. Buffy thought of how strong Kendra seemed--so independent, so untouched, and so unlike herself, who had grown up, pre-Calling, a girl with practically everything she could want or felt entitled to. Buffy had always felt that her own strength, as Willow had told her once, was fortified by those who loved her. Even the Master had known this. But Kendra, raised without parents or friends, had to be strong without anyone. Buffy returned her gaze to the night sky.

“When I was Called,” Buffy began slowly. “I was fourteen, and Merrick--my first Watcher--found me later. My mom had no clue about what was going on.”

“As it should be,” Kendra stated simply.

Buffy chewed her lip as she looked up at the sky. She sighed.

“As it was,” the blonde Slayer corrected. She was just going to leave it at that and not argue further with Kendra’s ‘by the Slayer Handbook’ attitude.

“Then Merrick was killed, and I accidentally burned down my old school’s gymnasium,” Buffy continued softly. “Mom finally found out what I was. She didn’t believe that Watchers’ stuff about how the Chosen should be alone in her fight. She said she and Dawn would stick by me. So we kinda ended up on the run together, because I had pissed off this really powerful vampire--one too powerful for me to kill. At least then.”

Buffy paused, searching her memory for the answer to what she just knew her sister Slayer would be asking of her next.

“Who?” came Kendra’s expected question.

“Um, well, I never got his name right?” Buffy hedged. “I called him Taquitos...y’know, like the Mexican--” Buffy glanced briefly up from where she lay and saw Kendra’s understandably baffled expression. “Nevermind. Anyway, so there we were, me, Mom, and Dawnie, on the run. Mr. Ancient Vamp did catch up with us, and he brought--” Buffy swallowed. “The bastard brought a real surprise for me, just in time for my fifteenth birthday,” she practically snarled. “I ended up in our motel room fighting off my dad, the vampire.”

Buffy recalled the horrifying struggle amid the meager remains of present wrapping and a modest birthday cake. She had locked Dawn in the bathroom, and her mother had already been knocked aside by the invading vamps. She had managed to dust all of them--and throw in a few, choice puns victoriously while she was at it--when he had entered. Her dad. Her undead dad.

“Worst fear that could ever come true, y’know?” Buffy continued, with a bitter, angry tone. “That’s when I really understood why Watchers wanted Slayers to fight alone. Dad had me by the throat and I looked at his human face and I couldn’t. Even when he went to demon face and bit me, I still couldn’t fight. The.” Buffy cleared her throat. “The horror of it all was too much, I guess.

“Then I thought of Dawn, who was still alive and trapped in the bathroom. I thought of Mom. And that was when I got my answer to fight back. But by then dad was seriously draining me, and then...Mom staked him.”

Buffy looked at Kendra. “Dawnie doesn’t know any of this,” she added quietly. “She doesn’t know he got Turned either. To her, he’s still out there, somewhere, her divorced, absentee dad.” The Jamaican Slayer nodded gravely, and Buffy returned her bright, wet eyes to the sky again.

“There was still Mr. Ugly Ancient vamp to deal with, so I tried running out on Mom and Dawnie to keep them safe. Which was probably what he had planned on anyway, because I was alone, and I couldn’t take him on alone. When Mom finally caught up with me, we did Mr. Ugly in together--especially when she felt it was equally her right to get this vamp for what he did to dad. I dropped a shipping crane on Taquitos right into the Chicago harbor,” Buffy stated proudly. “He should still be feeding the fishies at the bottom to this day.”

“Irie,” Kendra said solemnly, quiet approval in her voice.

Buffy nodded her agreement, and then her proud, hard smile faded. “Since then, I never chose to fight alone,” she said softly. “Having friends helps you win, that’s why it’s good that you’re letting Oz, and Larry, and Angel help you, Ken’.

“But at the same time, when those friends, those loved ones, are taken from you and made into your enemy?....Deep down, something’s got to be found, for you to kill that kind of enemy. I may talk it up in front of everyone else, Ken’, but Slayer righteousness just isn’t enough for something like this, at least not for me.”

Her last memory of vampire Xander was of his familiar, goofy, handsome face, taunting her, while he held a stake to a battered, chained up Angel beside him. An Angel whose bared flesh had displayed the evidence of what two months of being the Master’s--and Xander’s--prisoner had done to him.

“I staked Xander because I had to,” Buffy whispered to her friend. “Not because I’m the Slayer, but because he pushed me. He pushed me by nearly killing Angel. In the end, that became the reason I could hold in my heart to take him out. Like Mom and Dawnie with dad, Angel was the reason why I could finally stake Xander. I look at Will and I know I still have to find a reason. I have to find that reason that can’t be questioned or in the end I might fail you, Ken’.”

“Do it for the Wicked’s woman,” Kendra urged. “Do it to free the good witch.”

Buffy laughed harshly. “Wills has things happening so subtly, you know it’s not going to be that easy. We push her, then maybe she’ll push back, and then...then maybe I get my reason.”

Buffy sniffed suddenly, her face breaking, and she put up a quick hand to wipe at her wet face. Cry-Buffy, she heard Cordelia’s judgmental voice accusingly echo in her head.

“I’m sorry....I’m sorry I’m weak,” she sniffled, clutching the blowgun to her chest. Was this how it will always be? Buffy thought sadly to herself. Would she always hurt? Whenever she did stop hurting though, that might be the path of mercilessness she might never want to find herself on.

“You’re not weak, mon,” she heard Kendra softly say. Buffy sobbed, wiping angrily at her face. Yeah right, Buffy thought, allowing herself a brief, pity party. Cry-Buffy the Crippled Slayer, ineffective Willow Demon-Killer. As she mentally tried to kick her own pathetic ass--or more appropriately, the mean, old universe’s ass, for the hands it had dealt her--the prone Slayer felt the cool touch of her friend’s shadow. She could not help glancing up to where the second Slayer now crouched beside her, back lit by the fire.

“Envy you,” Kendra simply stated, nodding slowly as she looked down at Buffy with dark, accepting eyes. “Envy what you have, mon.” She said nothing more, apparently embarrassed by her inability, or--as Buffy suspected--personal reluctance to draw out this Slayer Hallmark moment out further. Buffy found her own mouth twist into a brief, pained smile of gratitude.

She held out her hand to Kendra, and returned her wet, determined eyes to the black sky.

“Together then, Ken’,” she promised, her voice no longer touched by tears.

“Together,” Kendra agreed, and Buffy felt the firm, hot grasp of her sister Slayer’s hand. “Let the Wicked beware.”

Buffy curled her fingers in that strong grip, watching the stars who were her witness to this promise. She’ll get her reason. And then they’ll both take care of Willow.

* * *

“Ha HaHa Ha Ha!!” Willow laughed gaily, her booted feet swinging, and threw yet another chocolate covered peanut three stories down into the exiting movie crowd. Harmony stuck her neck out, trying to spot the hapless pedestrian Wills was aiming for. She felt like she was one of those winged, stone demons that sat on tall gothy churches. She and her boss were perched high enough to be vampire gargoyles, seated as they were amid the slender scaffolding of the movie theater’s brightly lit marquee. Willow had leapt easily up to the second story of the theater building--without the aid of magic--to Harm’s astonishment. Harm had given it a a good girl scout’s go and found that she could only leap as high (with scrambling success), as the first story. When she finally clambered up to where her Master was seated, the redhead had already pulled the large, blue candy box of Goobers she’d bought at the movie concession counter, from her coat pocket.

“Xander’s favorite!” Willow had exclaimed, popping open the box. Harm had automatically scowled, hearing her stupid sire’s name, but then Xander <had been Wills’ best friend, even when undead. Goobs for a big Goober. It was perfectly apt. Willow then proceeded to name a moving target far below them and hit that person or thing with a chocolate covered peanut. Harm had been completely impressed with Willster’s perfect aim.

“Yeah, that one was wearing a toupee,” Harm observed, finally spotting who Willow had hit this time. The blonde vampire idly blew a large, pink bubble as she watched. The ant-sized figure of a frantic man was seeking out his lost hairpiece on the busy sidewalk surface.

“Harm, try to get his head,” Willow ordered.

“Okay...okay, wait. Okay.” Harm chewed her gum for a moment, then aimed for the man’s shiny pate. She spat her gum out loudly.

“Well, crap,” blonde vampire stated, seeing that she only hit sidewalk and nothing else. Mr. Baldy walked away, gum-free and trampled hair rug back on his shiny head. Disgruntled, Harm pulled out another fresh gum piece, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. Willow hummed beside her and shook another goober out of her candy box.

“Policeman,” Wills named, pointing at the officer below, zooming through departing theater traffic on his motorcycle. Willster let him get as far as half a block before whipping the peanut in her hand. Harm gaped in mid chew, watching the officer’s bike waver suddenly as Willow’s peanut candy connected with his metal helmet.

“Shit,” Harm said. “Wills, how did you get so good?”

“What, at throwing peanuts?” Her boss asked, putting one finally into her mouth. Willow immediately made a face, her small mouth working slowly at the distasteful discovery of stale, chocolate peanut.

“At everything,” Harm clarified. “You’re freakin’ elder vamp, all leaping up tall buildings and fuck. I kinda doubt I’ll be like that in twenty years.”

“Oh, I dunno, Harm,” Willow replied around the finger she was trying to clean her mouth with. “If you fulfill some of the qualities of strong childer, you’ll get there.”

“Yeah? What qualities?”

“Well.” Willow began ticking them off on her fingers. “Rising with a strong demon, first. That’s usually determined by what kind of human you were. Second, the bloodline you come from. You are, Harm, a direct grandchilde of the Master, thanks to Xander.” Willow then cocked her head casually, looking slyly at Harmony. “Technically, Darla’s your aunt. And Angel is your cousin. By right of Blood, you even outrank my Sire.”

The alarm bells were ringing inside Harmony even before she opened her mouth to protest.

“No way, Will,” she declared emphatically, wanting to stomp out this possibility of rift between her and Willow right there and then. If her Master even suspected Harm might turn on her for kin like Darla--just because of Blood ties--the blonde vampire was sure to be dusted. “I don’t do right of Blood--Drusilla’s got right of Elder, and you’re my elder too. Wills rules Harm.”

Willow stared at her, through half-lidded, assessing eyes, then nodded. Harmony’s inner Harm--the one that remembered what breathing was like--did a big sigh of relief.

“So,” the blonde vampire brought up hesitantly. “So, what are the other qualities?”

“Oh,” Willow said casually, as she shook her candy box. “You are what you eat. The more live kills, the stronger you are, but more importantly, the more strong blood you eat, the stronger you are.” The redhead glanced at her lieutenant and noticed Harmony’s typical blank look.

“You’ve only been eating human, haven’t you, Harm,” Willow observed, chucking a peanut without looking. Harm thought she heard something tinkle, like shattering glass.

“We can’t eat demon, Will,” Harm pointed out.

“No, but you can eat part demon, and enhanced human,” Willow clarified, and tossed another peanut. Harm heard someone shriek below.

The blonde vampire thought a moment. Tara, magic person. Enhanced, heck yeah. Wills’ Pet smelled way yummier than Cordy and that Anya chick put together, and now Harm knew it was because of the mojo in the witch’s blood.

“Geez, what have you been eating, Will?” she joked weakly, remembering her first, frightened reaction when she had sensed the redhead’s childe presence in the sewers. Among childer signatures, Willow registered up there with hundred year olds and scary assed demon shit. And her blood! God, the little of Wills’ blood Harm had tasted was like being hit in the mouth and senses by the best kind of blood and sex ten times over.

“Lots of good stuff,” Willow replied smugly, her little feet kicking. Realizing that was all her boss was going to offer for now, Harm pensively returned her attention to the street below.

“What about me and the kids then?” she said softly to herself, not realizing she had said it aloud, as she thought of the rule she now lived under, in Cordy’s house.

“I’m hunting a werewolf now,” she heard her boss say, as Harm watched yet another chocolate peanut sail through the air. “I did a little casting, and it turned out that this bitch belongs to a rogue pack that’s establishing territory in Sunnydale Forest. They’ve already made a few human kills.” Harmony felt her demon face come to the fore at the information--this town was her brethren’s, and werewolves happened to be ancient foes of vampires, always in competition for coveted feeding grounds. No fucking way should a bunch of weres be allowed to eat what was hers--and Wills’.

“So when you and the kids go kill them,” she heard Willow continue. “Eat them.” Harm looked up quickly, surprised, and met Willow’s meaningful, green eyed gaze. “Their blood can take you a long way, Harm,” her boss gave.

The blonde vampire took an unneeded breath, realizing that Willow, despite Cordy’s Law, did intend to keep her and hers strong. “Thanks Will,” she said gratefully.

The redhead gave a small smile. She threw another peanut. “What the fuck?!” Came the pained utterance far below.

“So, strong demon, strong sire line, strong food,” the blonde vampire summed up. Sounded simple enough. “And maybe a strong start?” Harm added thoughtfully. “Like a sire that’ll raise a kid proper and make sure it’s the best kinda demon?”

“Have you been reading childer raising books, Harm?” Willow laughed. “Adversity is what makes strong childer, not attention. Do you know what kind of childe makes a really good Master?”

Harm just shook her head.

“One who had been a very good submissive,” Willow explained, staring at Harmony. “Like you Harm, having to serve under Luke. Since you know what it’s like, you know how to give it.

“When you talk of a strong start, Harm, you’re talking about more than wanting to be a strong childe,” Willow continued, as she tossed her empty candy box down to the street below. “You’re talking about what kind of vampire is disciplined enough to do more than just eat and kill and, oh.” Willow waved her slender hands expressively. “Be the best serial killer one can be. You’re talking about a childe who can make Houses, build Clans...rule. The childe that knows control and how to control is the one who has survived the control of another.”

“Luke was a real S.O.B., but he made me what I am, no thanks to Xand,” Harmony stated simply. “But who taught you, Will?” And the blonde vampire felt instinctively, that she’d asked a dangerous question, one perhaps too personal, too soon. She just hoped that her boss would overlook her assumed familiarity, if the blonde had pushed too far. The question had only fallen out of her mouth because Drusilla, obviously, was a tad too koo koo to be the sort of teacher Willow was talking about.

Willow did not appear offended, however, just merely thoughtful, as she stared at Harmony. The redhead then stood up on the slender scaffolding and began unbuttoning her leather coat.

“Uh,” Harm uttered, hands awkwardly held out, like she could actually steady her Master. The blonde vampire was sitting on the other side of a thin scaffold column and couldn’t reach Wills if she tried, if the redhead lost her footing. Willow draped her long coat over a rail and then unbuttoned the tight, red, silk shirt she was wearing. As was usual for vamps, she wore no under garment. She then pulled the loose shirt up, revealing her pale, lower back, and turned upon the scaffolding to display the bared, slim expanse to Harm.

“See it?” Willow asked, and Harmony leaned forward, realizing what the redhead was referring to. There, on her ‘chick spot’, was a tattoo, an oriental letter.

“What’s it say?” Harm asked, realizing that it had not been ink done when Willow had been human. For one thing, she doubted good little geeky Wills would’ve ever gotten a tattoo, no matter how cute or supposedly meaningful.

“It’s kanji for ‘luck and happiness’,” Willow supplied, finally lowering the shirt back into place. She dropped back down to sit again beside Harmony, not bothering to button her shirt back up. The red silk blew softly in the night wind, fluttering against the pale, freckled flesh and small breasts it revealed.

“Is that a sick joke?” Harm exclaimed.

“Yes,” Willow simply replied. She rested her head upon the standing column that separated her from Harmony as she gazed at the blonde vampire. “Put there by a Slayer,” she revealed softly. “I was her Pet.”

For the second time that night, Harmony actually felt her dead lungs inhale, especially at this confession Willow was giving her. It was a confession that was all of the Sad Bad--just rich with potential rage, disgust, and shame, as would be any respectable vampire’s reaction, but Willow did not appear to be any of those things, as she stared at Harm. Perhaps it had happened a very long time ago, or perhaps it really hadn’t been that kind of relationship, but something in Wills’ quiet attitude definitely hinted that it had been everything the name ‘Pet’ implied, and even far worse than that.

“I’m going to guess it wasn’t a secret love affair,” Harmony finally said flatly.

Willow laughed briefly, but it was a soft sound, and had no real humor.

“I was seven at the time, and I didn’t listen to Mummy,” Willow softly related. “Got tired of landing in the, who knows what number Sunnydale it was then, and not ending up in the right one. As usual, I attracted attention, and received an invite from certain Brethren to visit San Francisco. The Slayer happened to be there, a member of the Yakuza.”

“Wait,” Harm interrupted. “Yakuza? You mean, an evil Slayer?” Could there even be such a thing? the blonde vampire thought. Besides the fact that just the idea of it sounded like a really twisted Japanese soap.

“Oh yes,” Willow smiled at her, but again, the soft smirk held little humor. “Think, Harm. Let’s say a girl gets Called, but she’s already a broken little thing, prostituting for one of the oldest and most evil of underworld organizations. What if that organization finds out what she is? What if she ends up, not with the Watchers, but with her bosses, their prized assassin? And then think of how that organization could use the leverage of a Slayer to make pacts with all their local vampire clans, including the ones all along the Pacific Rim.”

“You got sold out,” Harm easily guessed, her voice cold.

“I caught her eye, somewhere, maybe at a club, maybe while hunting for dinner. I ended up kidnapped, and woke up in the Slayer’s stronghold in Tokyo. I didn’t realize until later how many Families were trying to claim that they were the ones who made a present of me to her, she enjoyed possessing me so much. I remembered every one of those Family names, though,” Willow recalled softly.

“How.” Harm paused, a little embarrassed that she wanted to know. It was--this was Bad stuff, Wills was sharing, and whoever had handed in one of their own to be a