Blood Letting
by Valyssia
After the Flesh
[reviews]
I'm on my knees and burning. My piss and moans are the fuel that set my head on fire. So smell my soul burning. I'm broken, looking up to see the enemy.
Buffy cautiously poked her head in through the door of the old vineyard. Pushing it open, she appraised the room and finally entered. "This place gives me the wiggins, Will. Hope you know that."
"See the blood on the floor, Buffy? Me—here—now—not exactly— " Willow replied, glancing around the room. "It'll be a necklace. Has a blue stone. Be careful not to step on it or—"
"Yeah...I know. Xander'll come back along with piles of other sins we buried in wishes. Speaking of wishes... Wish I could've seen that," Buffy remarked as she carefully stepped forward, searching the floor.
"Seen what?" Willow asked, moving away from Buffy to take up the search.
"Xander..." Buffy snorted.
Willow laughed. "You're one sick— Yeah—'kay, so, Xander getting eaten by a cardboard shredder. I might've paid too— Nice thinking...sending a male minion to take the jacket."
"Yeah, well... Once I had enough time away—sorta got the picture. Wasn't rocket science...just scar tissue," Buffy remarked only half paying attention to the conversation.
Spying the other thing she wanted, Willow cautiously strode over to an old stack of barrels. She magicked it into her hands, cooing softly, "Hello there," as she petted the rat. "I'll be right back. Need something from the car," she offered, setting purposefully off out the door. Returning moments later with a wine glass, she stopped in the doorway, watching as Buffy combed the floor. Clamping down on the rat's body, she opened its neck, holding it over the glass. "Goodbye, Tara," she whispered gently into the rat's ear as it died.
Buffy turned around. "Did you say something about Tara?"
Willow extended the limp rodent corpse in the hand. "Tara—the witch ratted her," she offered. Tipping the wine glass up to take a sip, she cast the rat over her shoulder out the doorway. As it flew through the air the rat's body exploded into a puff of black vapor.
"That's just wrong on so many levels. I thought you loved Tara," Buffy remarked, beginning to search again. "Keep going—we'll end up in the height of Victorian fashion," she grumbled softly to herself, stooping to scan under the rotting casks.
Another glint caught her eye. Willow moved purposefully across the floor, using her magick to extract the item from under another old rack of barrels. "Got it," she said, putting the charm around her neck. "I loved fucking Tara. Love's not the same as sex. Tara was a lot of fun in bed. She'd literally do anything I asked. She was a useful tool to me too," she remarked dispassionately as she headed for the exit. Holding for Buffy at the door, she made eye contact. "The only one I ever gave a rat's ass about was—you. Pardon the pun," she concluded. Draining the wine glass, she whipped it at the floor, saying, "Mazel tov," quietly to herself.
"Hey! That was—" Buffy snapped, cutting off as the witch spoke.
"Really nice crystal... Sorry. Despite the strangeness—parts of me—still Jewish—and we like to break shit on special occasions," Willow said through an evil smirk.
Buffy pushed past the witch, rolling her eyes. "'Kay... Whatever works, Will—but let's motor," she called over her shoulder, watching as Willow picked up the pace. Sliding behind the wheel of the classic Trans Am, she fired the engine.
As the car rumbled to life, Willow got in, shaking her head. "So, remind me again, why? This thing's not exactly subtle."
"I liked it... You liked the banger and his girl. We compromised," Buffy reminded the witch patiently. As she spoke she slipped the car into first, dumping the clutch.
Willow snickered. "Buffy it's red and it has a huge phoenix on the hood," she commented dryly.
"Yeah, and under that hood—four hundred and fifty-five cubic inches of fun," Buffy noted, glancing at the shaker scoop. A grin plastered across her face as she slid the car sideways onto the highway. "Besides... You didn't seem to mind the hood so much when you were draped across it."
Willow rolled her eyes, planting a heel on the dash, "Bronze?" she asked offhandedly.
"Sure...why not? Maybe we'll get lucky and one of our girls will get a case of the stupids," Buffy replied. Shifting with a flick of her wrist, she grinned softly as the car just did what she asked.
Willow snickered. "Always business... All work, no play, Buffy. Lighten up—I wanna dance," she purred seductively.
"I can do both. In fact, as green as these girls are gonna be, I bet I can do both at once," Buffy said with a shrug.
"Oh... Now you're just turning me on. I'd pay to see that," Willow said in a silky voice, dipping her fingers between her legs.
Buffy glanced over to look at the witch. Growling softy, she quipped, "Careful or I'll start calling you 'Frog'."
Arching her back, Willow shot her counterpart a dirty look, moaning softly, "You wouldn't dare."
"Watch me," Buffy whispered, shaking her head as they passed the sign announcing their arrival in Sunnydale. Choosing a route that kept them off the main thoroughfares, she retraced the path to their favorite haunt with mechanical precision and a somewhat lighter foot. She's right about the subtle part. This thing does scream for attention. I'll put it down tomorrow night.
Pulling into the alley beside The Bronze, she sighed at the witch, recognizing that she was quite distracted. Clearing her throat, she announced loudly, "We're here." Rolling her eyes at the lack of response, she moved the car forward a bit more and got out, walking up to the doorman. She slipped him a twenty, remarking, "The dark haired chick too." She nodded toward the car where she could plainly see the witch's boots planted on the dash. He's gonna love that. Hope she doesn't kill him. Turning, she made her way inside, surveying the crowd. She crossed the dance floor and located a table near the rear exit to appraise the comings and goings. It wasn't long before Willow joined her. She watching with mixed amusement as the witch suckled her fingers suggestively. "Don't you ever get enough?" she asked leaning in to speak over the music.
"Not yet—and trust me, I've tried. It's the only thing that makes me feel human, Buffy," Willow admitted.
Buffy was startled by her friend's candor, but brushed it aside for future review. "Get drinks? Something fruity—has to look like Kool Aid or—" Friend? Is that—? Suppose it's close enough—near as I get.
"'Kay," Willow said, making her way to the bar.
Placing her elbow on the table, Buffy watched as the witch started flirting again. This time it was a vengeance demon. Good... Maybe she'll replace Tara and things will normal up a bit. I just hope I get my drink first. Need it—bad. She watched as Willow approached the table with the demon on her arm and a drink.
Leaning in to speak, Willow placed the cocktail in front of Buffy. "I'll just be a sec," she remarked in a husky voice.
Taking a gulp of her drink, Buffy spotted something on the dance floor that piqued her interest. She watched as the female vampire worked the crowd, moving gracefully from one partner to the next until she found one she could toy with. Waiting for the vamp to leave, she sipped her cocktail gratefully. Not bad...she musta remembered. Orange and grapefruit juice with a shot of vodka... No clue if it has a name—but it's my drink.
Gazing off absently into the crowd, Buffy's eyes didn't follow the vamp as she led her victim out back. Counting to ten, she rose from her seat and followed them outside. Walking silently up behind the vamp as she fed, Buffy asked in a voice of mock surprise, "What do you think you're doing with my boyfriend?" As the vamp swung around to meet the challenge, she grabbed her throat. Making eye-contact with the young man, she commanded him to, "Run." Then she let go.
"Let's dance," Buffy half purred to the young vampire. "You lead..." She easily dodged the first sloppy swing. Slayer. No style—but ungodly fast. Buffy danced around the slayer-vamp, feigning, ducking, and toying, until she got good and bored. Then she unleashed a series of precise, controlled strikes. Buckle a knee, downward punch to the face as her victim fell—it was all about the pain. Bowing courteously as the young woman struggled to rise; she walked around to her back and took her into a gentle embrace. Sinking her fangs in, she drank until the unknown girl fell to ash in her arms. Glancing back toward the club, her golden eyes locked with the witch's.
Willow walked up, holding a crisp hundred out for her friend. "That was beautiful."
Taking the bill, Buffy smirked, winking at the witch, her face shifted back to human. "Thanks." She stood up and curtseyed. "You're not so bad yourself, y'know," she remarked. Entwining her fingers with Willow's, she pulled her back into The Bronze. "So how was your date?" she asked, leaning in again to talk over the music.
"Delicious," Willow said as a deceptively sweet smile played at her features. "Let's dance, Buffy. I mean, really—not like—well don't—" she babbled nervously.
"I think I can handle that," Buffy replied. Taking the witch's hand again, she led her to the floor. She draped her arms loosely around her dance partner's neck and began to sway her hips gracefully to the music. Smirking softly as Willow put her arms around her somehow magickally avoiding the scars. It felt good. She fell into the rhythm, letting go as her partner held her moving in time. "When'd you learn to dance, Will?" she asked pensively.
"Long time ago. There's a lot about me you missed, Buffy," Willow whispered into her dance partner's ear. Slowing to keep pace with the next song, she wrapped her arms firmly around Buffy's waist, tilting her head to make eye contact.
It'd been a long time since she'd experienced anything that felt remotely good or right besides killing. So Buffy resigned herself to just go with it. Pushing all the voices down, she met Willow's gaze and held it. Moving rhythmically with her partner, she swayed her hips in time with the slow tempo.
Closing her eyes, Willow leaned closer, kissing Buffy delicately on the lips. She withdrew to meet her partner's gaze only to find that her eyes were still closed. Tenderly she offered the kiss again, brushing lips in a dance as supple as the one in which their bodies engaged.
Buffy melted into the kiss; it was unlike anything she'd ever known. So much emotion, pure joy and passion, she ran her tongue between the witch's lips gently asking permission for the kiss to deepen. It surprised her a little when even though her request was welcomed the quality of the kiss didn't change. It remained tender, soothing...even loving, she imagined. As the next song started, Buffy kept time, withdrawing reluctantly from the kiss. She locked eyes with the witch, taken aback again when the eyes that stared back were a crisp bright green. The hair that fell around Willow's face had turned red and she was smiling, not wolfishly as Buffy expected, but softly, sweetly.
Willow slowly became aware of the others around them. She continued to move in time with the new song, keeping the space between them very close and intimate, despite the enthusiastic techno beat.
As soon as the song ended, Buffy pulled away from the witch. "Let's go for a walk. I need some air." Seizing Willow's hand, she towed her along. The moment she hit the crisp night air, she began to search for her smokes. "Grrr...in the car," she remarked, taking off for their stolen vehicle. Opening the door, she located the items she sought.
Willow watched as Buffy popped back out of the car with a lit cigarette in her mouth. "Fresh air, huh...?" she quipped, shooting her friend teasing glance.
"What?" Buffy said, slamming the car door closed with her hip as she reached for the witch's hand. "Let's wander around for a bit and see if we can't play hero. Save a damsel or something. It'll be funny. Of course the saving—means the violence—and the brutal killing which is much more my speed," she offered with a smirk.
"'Kay —I'm in... Can I have the damsel?" Willow asked, punctuating the sentiment with an evil grin as she kept pace.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Do you ever—never mind— No, no—you can't. The idea is to make with the big rescue. Eating the rescuee—not so much a part of the plan," she explained patiently.
Willow started to giggle. "You take all the fun outta being bad," she said thickly through her mirth. Composing herself, she asked in a serious tone, "What just happened in there?"
"Wish I knew—still working on it myself. I will tell you—I won't be one of your fucks—ever." Buffy replied frankly.
Picking up the pace to keep a hold of Buffy's hand, Willow offered in a sincere manner, "I don't want that. It's weird: I feel human when I'm with you—like that—no sex...first time in a long time. The thing that's totally fucking with me is that you were the one—"
"That made you a monster?" Buffy retorted. Cutting the witch off, she flipped the cigarette away. Stopping, she spun Willow to face her, clasping both of her hands. Locking eyes with her friend, she said in a forthright tone, "I dunno either, Will. Musta been that missing spark. Guess instead of cursing whoever—I should think about sending them a card. Whatever—point is—don't look for anything more than it is—and we'll see where it goes."
Willow nodded. "Works for me. Oh and Buffy...the teasing thing. I'm sorry."
"Be sorry for last night and we're cool. Anything before that's a gimme," Buffy offered fairly.
Willow smiled sheepishly. "I was pretty sure you were screwing with me last night. Took me awhile to catch up—had no clue what a soul would be like for you—mine's been dead for years..." Watching as Buffy's face darkened, she decided to change tact, adding a sarcastic, "Besides—starved—and that piss you served me was half-dead and full of chemicals." Pausing a moment to reflect, she asked, "Waking up next to you was nice. Again...maybe? I'll be good—even if it kills me."
"You? Good? I'm so in—just to see that," Buffy quipped. Releasing the witch's hands, she located and lit another stick of artificial patience. "Let's get going... I wanna swing through the graveyard. This whole playing slayer trip is sorta amusing. Besides I'm getting hungry. Eating other vamps is like trying to live on diet soda." Actually tried the full bit—pig's blood, demon, vamp... Everything—it's all the same. I feel like I'm dying. Last night's kill was the first time I felt good in a week. Who knew crossing slayer and vamp would come with a dietary plan? The bag stuff is—like she said—dead. Sorta grateful Will forced the rethink. So not up for the suck-house route. Most of those places make the average crack-house look classy. Plus—bonus—being seen at the one here—talk about tipping my cards.
They made the rounds and, as they did, Buffy began to get nervous. The town was utterly silent. It was like she was in the eye of some huge storm and at any moment the gale force winds would bringing torrents with them. Only time it's like this is when something ugly rolls into town. Either side of the fence I always smacked it down. The old me never let it go this far. I shoulda come back a few days sooner. Making her way back to the car, she remarked, "Eerie, isn't it?"
"Bit...not even a scream—and, in Sunnydale, a night without screaming is—well, I dunno—but it's wrong," Willow babbled anxiously, getting into the car.
Starting the old Trans Am, Buffy added, "And you'd think we would've run into Faith. I mean, we walked her normal beat. Stupid rent-a-cop slayer...you'd think she'd mix it up. Well, with me here...I sorta killed anything worth killing."
Willow nodded. "And she couldn't kill you so..."
"She tried. It always ended badly—for her. I think we should go visit ol' Faith tomorrow. Maybe buy her some flowers?" Buffy said sarcastically.
Willow snickered. "I'd love to see her face. How 'bout a dozen white roses?" she remarked pensively.
"Oh that's good. Classy..." Buffy responded, giggling a little as she imagined the scene. Faith would shit herself. Thing is, it's not a bad thought. I need to know what those idiots are up to. The roses...too funny... Pulling into the lot of the one real hotel in Sunnydale, Buffy got out of the car, leaning back in the window to motion for Willow to stay. Renting the nicest room in the place with a kitchenette and bar, she returned to the car to collect their modest possessions.
They made their way silently to the room. Buffy stowed the last of the bagged blood in the refrigerator, keeping a bag out to nuke. Tossing the cooler in the closet, she remarked, "We're either gonna have to go suck-house or raid the hospital soon if this keeps up. And I dunno about you—this shit's better than suck house any day."
Nodding affirmation again, Willow simply said, "Whatever works for you. I could prob'ly live on pig's blood, but it'd make me crazy."
"Is that your way of saying you're in? I mean, like, really—for where ever this takes us?" Buffy asked, trying to make herself completely clear. Pretty certain she'd failed, she shook her head feeling a bit stupid for even asking. Pouring the contents of the bag into a wine glass, she put it in the microwave to warm.
Taking a seat across the room, Willow crossed her legs, making eye contact with Buffy. "Yeah—guess so. Really didn't think of it that way, but...now that you say it. I'm not sure I'd know what to do without you—and if you need me to be something else—I changed once," she replied pensively.
Removing her dinner from the microwave, Buffy walked over to the witch, swirling the liquid as she moved. Placing the glass on the table between them, she took a seat before she spoke. "If I could undo anything—that'd be my choice. We both know how twisted up wishes can get, though—so, let's leave it, and try to fix what we got," she offered. It felt like a weak apology, but she wasn't sure what else to do. Regret again...at least I'm getting more comfortable with it. Not that regret is ever comfortable.
Lighting a smoke partially out of habit and partly to kill the taste, Buffy started to silently drink her dinner as Willow watched. Once finished, she stamped her cigarette out and made her way to the bathroom to shower. When she returned to the main room Willow was already in bed. Checking the door and windows, she moved to the foot of the bed. "Ask me that question again. This time—no attitude," she directed in an emotionless voice.
Glancing up from the bed, Willow saw that Buffy was in a towel again. Her hair was freshly blown dry. She smelled like something spicy and floral she couldn't quite place. Trying to push back the shock, she stuttered a little before finally speaking. "What happened to you? Is that the right one? Sorry—brain's a bit fuzzy," Willow babbled, trying to compose herself.
"Will, I'm not gonna—not sure I even can—so put your tongue back in your mouth. I just— I dunno... I never want anyone to feel sorry for me. I'd have to kill them if they did. So this story—I've not been big with the sharing. In fact, I've shared it exactly never, so..." Buffy dropped the towel, climbing onto the bed with the witch. "I just want you to see...the touching thing may be easier if you have an idea."
Willow traced the lines down Buffy's back and legs with her eyes.
Rolling onto her back, she allowed the witch to examine her. "No one besides Xander ever saw me like this and you know what happened to him. I have no clue whether he ever said anything, but no one had the nerve to say anything around me. Good for them. Again with the simple instant death..."
Willow silently went over every mark. Her brain was numb. She tried to recall what she'd been like at fifteen and imagine how she might've dealt with this. The overwhelming answer was, not as well. Tenderly tracing a line of unblemished skin on Buffy's stomach, she whispered, "You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?"
Trembling slightly at the touch, Buffy felt the witch withdraw. "With clothes? Yeah...I've got something I can use. It's a tool like all the rest," she growled softly. Opening her eyes, she propped herself up on her elbows, studying Willow for some sign of what was going through her head. What's that look about? It's not passion. God knows I've seen—that'd be a no-brainer to spot. Not compassion. I doubt I'd ever see that from her. She watched as the witch slowly traced up her form like she was studying something important. Locking her gaze with Willow's she was struck by the intensity. Green again—not passion—love I guess—nearest thing I can figure—and something like admiration. Weird. This is gonna be interesting. And well...complicated.
Pulling the covers back, Willow guided Buffy into bed. Spooning up against her back, she pulled up tight to make her more comfortable. "With, without... It's all the same. It's still you," she whispered. Gently placing her fingertips on another unmarred area of her partner's stomach, she tenderly caressed the supple skin.
Shoving her musings aside, Buffy began to comment in a soft pensive tone, "Thing you have to understand about me... I was a lot like Cordelia Chase when I was fifteen. Not rich—just popular. Doing what we did—it was like...well, I dunno—by then, I wasn't feeling an awful lot, so..." Taking the hand Willow had placed on her stomach, she clutched it firmly, bringing it up between her breasts.
"This whole thing—feeling anything but rage—I'm not even sure how to deal. I've just sorta been shoving things aside until I have time to look at them. I felt rage for so long. It was like a comfortable friend. I'm not sure I can love. So don't expect it. I do know I feel something—and that's way different than nothing," Buffy continued in the same gentle voice. Bringing Willow's hand to her lips she tenderly kissed it.
Willow swept the hair away from Buffy's neck gently kissing the point near her non-existent pulse. "You don't have to tell me," she whispered softly into her friend's ear.
"No, you don't get it. I actually want you to know. I need you to understand. Hell, I may even need to talk about it. Maybe it's some sorta sick part of the 'healing process' as those stupid books say. You're certainly better than going to eat a shrink. You know that's how that one would end. He'd give some non-committal response and I'd just have to kill him," Buffy remarked flippantly, trying to lighten the mood. She felt Willow tuck up tighter as she stifled a chuckle.
Turning onto her back, Buffy guided the witch to lay with her head resting on her shoulder. Absently caressing Willow's back, she began in a soft neutral voice, "The comparison to Cordy is totally right. It was after a game no less—Hemery won—I was psyched—still cheering and doing cartwheels in the parking lot. Waiting for one of the girls to gimme a lift home—next thing I knew I was chained in a room. My arms and legs stretched so tight I couldn't move."
"I opened my eyes and this small blond woman was smiling at me. Sorta sweet looking—almost impish grin. She introduced herself as Darla. Then she stepped aside and let me see the rest of the room. Everyone that really mattered to me was dead. She wanted to show me, so she'd arranged a scene. I screamed like a good victim should. Then I stopped being a victim. I felt nothing but hatred as I turned to look at her."
"She stared back at me for a moment or two and as she did her face changed. I'd never seen a vampire before. I was terrified; shaking so hard and again there was this overwhelming rage. The first thing she did was rip my uniform off and raped me, making sure I could still see the room. She alternated methods of torture like an expert, adding the violation for obvious reasons. I was a virgin. She fed off me as I bled. Then she'd cauterize to stop the bleeding. I'm not sure how long it lasted. I just know I stopped feeling. I'd pass out...when I woke it'd begin again—days of this, but no way to really tell."
"I should've just been another dead little girl. I was so close when she finally did it—would have been so easy—but Darla...Darla made me a monster. What she was thinking is anyone's guess." An insipid smile infected her features for a moment and was gone, replaced by shear contempt. "Turning me was a mistake—one of epic proportions," Buffy snarled viciously, curling her hands unconsciously into fists.
Willow carefully moved away, just out of reach, turning on her side so she could watch cautiously. There was something disturbingly feral about the expression on Buffy's face. Her eyes were dark and cold in a way that didn't suit the remainder of her features. It made the witch's skin crawl.
"When I woke up again I ripped myself free. Wrapped the chains around my arms and hands—then I beat her—I let all the rage out. I became a weapon. It surprised me how natural it was. I wasn't a fighter. It surprised me more when she fell to ashes—crushing the brainstem counts as decapitation—just in case you were curious. I put my hand through her head. Next punch broke my wrist and the concrete floor."
Breathing in deep and controlled, Buffy forced herself calm. Exhaling slowly, she motioned for Willow to return. "S'okay, Will," she said in a soft soothing tone, wrapping her arms around the witch. Chuckling softly, she continued, "This is actually sort of amusing, but not...hurt like hell. There were no windows— not that it would've occurred to me—I just wanted out. I ran for the door and almost immolated myself—broad daylight outside. So I fell back into the room and slammed the door shut with my foot. When night fell, I left and fed for the first time. No remorse, no pain...nothing but pure rage.
"So, after all that... Know what I did?" Buffy asked, moving her hand up to stroke the witch's hair.
"You took a trip to Disney Land?" Willow remarked in a flat voice, trying to make Buffy laugh.
"Close," Buffy quipped, snickering despite herself. "Nah... What I did was go hunting. See, Darla was a talker. One of those types that gloats. I took notes...remembered the details. This vamp named Angelus was her man. Angelus was where this whole thing came from. He liked to torture little girls. Kill their families, violate their bodies. Sometimes he'd turn them. Other times not," she growled, hatred welling up again as she spoke.
Getting up, Buffy walked over to the table at the edge of the room, grabbing a smoke to calm down. Lighting up, she picked up the ashtray and walked back over to the bed, sitting on the edge.
Willow studied her partner as she moved. Completely comfortable, not even a touch of modesty. The hiding was about the truth. I wonder how others see her. I know how I did. Strange thing...I dreamed about this for years. Being here in a room alone with her—no one 'cept us all naked and intimate. Now I'm here there's nothing naughty about—nothing sexual—and I'm not disappointed—because it's more intimate than I could've imagined. I would've never bought it then. She loves me—just with the—not knowing—not understanding. She has to 'cause she's never been more naked in her life.
Continuing the story, Buffy said in a low dangerous voice, "I found him. Beat the holy living hell out of him before I finally ripped his head off. He laid this line on about having a soul. I could've given a shit less. Funny thing was, he stood there and took most of it—like he accepted his fate. Then there was Spike and Drusilla. I actually came to Sunnydale to kill them and Darla's sire—this old vamp named 'The Master'. How fucking pretentious do you have to be to call yourself that? They all died. I cut them down one at a time, bloody, vicious, and slow—took the time to enjoy the experience. Luke managed to kill the local slayer before I got here. Kendra or whatever... What a pain in the ass he was. Took a bit of convincing to get that prick to tow the line—good minion once I made my point crystal—"
Finishing her cigarette, Buffy slid back into bed. Pulling Willow up close, she set off reciting the remainder of her tale, "By the time the new slayer, Faith, got here, I was sitting with my feet up in his majesty's throne. Killing slayers—never a thing for me. Spike killed two, Luke one... Whatever...they thought they were all that—had this fascination with slayer blood—like it's all different or something. Me...I'd rather keep my slayer in check. I kept Faith alive on purpose. Forbid my people to touch her. Luke hated that, but— You keep them dull...they act dull. That's why she can't take me. Other than staking a few vamps in the graveyard every week, what's she got? I took down anything that even smelled like a new big bad before it got big enough to be a bad. My fave was when I blew up city hall, remember?"
"Yeah...I saw it on the news. I mean we knew each other—but... You did that?" Willow said in amused voice.
"I did...on purpose and everything. The Mayor got this idea he wanted to ascend—you know— become a hell god. I hit him before he got his invulnerability mojo up, killed him and his whole staff—not to mention about a hundred other civil servants. Trying to process guilt—for me..." she let out a mirthless chuckle, "Not so much... Impossible really—figuring out how I feel about anything—besides, what I need—sorta shelved for the moment," Buffy responded, the tone of her voice shifting from amused to dark and brooding as she spoke. Pausing a moment to reflect, Buffy concluded, "It's the pain—you know—if it doesn't kill you—it makes you stronger. I got strong—Faith got weak. She's a complete apathy case."
Willow smiled softly. "Friedrich Nietzsche. 'That which does not kill us makes us stronger,'" she quoted in a supple whisper.
Buffy gently put her finger under the witch's chin, lifting until their eyes met. Speaking in a soft pensive tone, she said, "We're all we got now. That's all I have to give—the truth—understanding—respect. As far as I'm concerned—I own you—fuck who you want—but you're mine—and this—this is mine." Rolling over to pin Willow harshly in place, she kissed her, pouring all of the passion she felt into the single act. It was enough.
Suppressing any sexual responses, Willow enjoyed what was offered without question. She understood and accepted the implication and was perfectly comfortable with it. As Buffy withdrew, she met her gaze, whispering gently, "I always was."
Smiling softly, Buffy rolled onto her side, propping herself up with one arm, she ran her eyes down the witch's slender form, studying for a moment. "Good," she purred. Moving suddenly and without warning, she crushed the witch back down to the bed. Wrenching Willow's arms over her head so quickly the movement blurred, she seized them with one hand, using the other to compress her throat. "One more thing—pin me again like you did last night—kill me or die. Those will be your choices. That was a freebie. Next time we play. Clear?" she snarled.
Willow watched as Buffy turned seamlessly into the predator, staring sheepishly into her golden eyes. She gasped as the grip on her throat tightened, trying to hold back the tears welling up in her eyes. "Clear," she choked, fighting the fear and shock.
As soon as she heard the word, Buffy released her grip. Her features soften to the human mask. "Good girl," she said in a silky voice. Cupping the witch's cheek, she drew her into another tender kiss.
Turning with her as Buffy rolled onto her back, Willow positioned herself exactly as she had been placed before and settled for sleep.
Sighing softly, Buffy shut her eyes, caressing the witch's back absently as she drifted off.
***********
Willow was a bit surprised to find herself alone when she woke. Looking at the glow through the curtains, she shrugged and went about distracting herself. Finally deciding that a shower sounded good, she wandered into the bathroom. Turning on the taps, she adjusted the temperature and flipped the lever. Stepping in, she leaned into the spray.
I certainly didn't need drugs to make my life a tragedy—didn't need them to become an addict either—never was very conventional. All it took was her—one girl. The most beautiful girl I'd ever seen—and she wanted to talk to me—she was actually interested in me. Willow Rosenberg—class joke—homework gal—mousey—reliable... By the time I actually understood what she was—I was addicted. I needed her. She made me feel good about being me. No one else had ever bothered.
Xander even abandoned me after he got that stupid jacket and he was supposed to be my best friend. I had this huge crush on him. I would've happily given myself to him. In the end he used the jacket to seduce me. Totally crazy, but he got exactly what he wanted, and it wasn't about anything as complicated as love. In fact, it was more like 'bend over the couch.'
She says she owns me now—almost laughable. I think it's a vamp thing—she sired me, so... She always has owned me—she made me—every twisted inch of me. I became an addict and a murderer to please her—addicted to dark magicks because she wanted—sex because I wanted—one drug to counter the other. Like the classic junkie. I take one for the up and the other for the down.
One event—like pulling a card from the bottom of a card house—she snapped at me—hurt my feelings—scared me. Tara and I were standing in main room of the vineyard afterward waiting for the geeks to break through—and pretend to be heroes. I begged her to grant me a wish. It was for me—for revenge. I wanted what Xander got with his stupid jacket. I never imagined Tara would be jealous. She tied it to the spell to hurt Buffy—the soul—then all those innocent deaths. It was almost like what Darla did to her. More torture.
That one event—all those cards...and irony—lots of it... The most evil act of her entire unlife leads to her seeking redemption—not sure she sees that yet—but it is—what it is. My death may be my salvation—now there's a laugh. And that one event—me being stupid—groping her—her snapping—led to me getting what I actually wished for. More or less—less 'cause, well—but way more 'cause I never expected real intimacy—real honesty—nothing that resembled love. Just a fuck... And I was actually mad at Tara...
I was mad at Buffy too. Thing about being an addict—anyone that questions the need is a target. 'Kay...no more thinking for you, missy. I'm cutting you off. It's dangerous—it can lead to ideas—from ideas—the mischief—then, usually badness. Quickly washing up, Willow got out of the shower and grabbed a towel. When she exited the bathroom, she wasn't alone anymore.
Buffy watched silently from her chair as Willow approached, dropping the towel as she moved. "Did you sleep well?" she finally asked, staring up at her witch.
"Yeah...but I woke up all alone," Willow whined playfully, a pout fixed on her pale face. Reaching down, she pulled Buffy to her feet, embracing her tenderly.
Buffy kissed the pout away. Strange, complicated and nowhere I'd ever think to go—but... A soft sigh escaped her lips, "Forgive me?" she asked, caressing the witch's back.
"Maybe," Willow confirmed.
"Go look in the closet. Might help you make up your mind," Buffy suggested.
Taking her leave, Willow did as she was told. A bright smile washed over her features as she sorted through the dresses. "Thank you," she whispered, taking a black v-neck flowy charmeuse cocktail dress that caught her eye off the hanger. She slipped it on and glanced back at Buffy.
Walking up to her witch, Buffy gathered the silk in her hands enjoying the texture of the fabric. Tying the waist sash into an elegant knot, she ran her fingers down the trailing pieces of fabric. Stepping back to look, she stated, "Beautiful." And she is... Running her hands down Willow's sides, she voiced the internal monologue, "I've actually missed this sort of stuff. I can't exactly wear something like this myself, so... Maybe I can enjoy it another way. Does that bother you?"
"Dress me however you want. Like you said—you own me. Besides, you have great taste so... I win anyway you wanna slice it," Willow replied honestly.
"There's more on the dresser," Buffy offered. Meeting the witch's gaze, she found that same expression from the previous night. Must be love—no clue what else to call it. Not like I have tons of experience. Most of the boys I dated wanted one thing. "I'm going to have a shower," she said bluntly, turning to make her way to the bathroom.
Willow walked over to the dresser. Looking through the packages, she found two boxes from a florist, one with a card marked for Faith, the second for her. She smirked as she looked at the card marked for Faith. The smirk broke into a smile as she saw her name. Opening the box, she found a dozen long stemmed red roses nestled in a thatch of baby's breath. The card simply said, 'You're the only one.' Puzzling for a moment, she continued to go through the packages. Locating two crystal vases, she went to the kitchenette and filled one of them. Arranging the flowers, she set them in the middle of the dresser. There were two silk scarves, one white, one so dark green it was nearly black. The last bag contained something she had wondered about, makeup. The no mirror thing really sucks. Buffy never seemed to mind it. Now I know why. In the closet, she found half a dozen shoe boxes. I'm beginning to wonder how she managed this. Locating a pair of plain black flats, she slipped them on. As Buffy exited the bathroom, she asked, "What'd you mean?"
"Which?" Buffy said, rubbing her hair in a towel.
"The only one," Willow prompted.
Buffy smiled warmly. "Oh that... You're the only one I ever cared enough about—felt was worthy—to sire. May sound really cliché—or like something stupidly vampy. What it means—simpled up—I couldn't let you go," she replied thoughtfully.
Willow made her way to Buffy, embracing her, she whispered, "No one's ever bought me flowers. Not really the sort of girl that inspires sentimental gestures. Thank you." She gave her partner another soft, delicate kiss and released her.
Okay...this is getting weirder. Kinda nice, but she's right...sentimental gestures. Me? Well if it keeps her happy...and I was at the florist, so... Buffy pulled gently away to get dressed without comment. Stereotype much , she mused as she pulled on the tight black leather pants, tucking the loose fitting white silk blouse in.
"Why the dress up?" Willow asked. Sitting back in one of the chairs, she casually crossed her legs.
Buffy snickered as she pulled on her boots. "We're going to visit Faith...in the hospital."
Laughing softly, Willow remarked, "Gone for a week and your pet slayer tries to get herself killed. Sounds about right."
"Something like that. I stopped by the Magic Box and it was closed. Made the calls—seems little Faithy is recovering from major surgery," Buffy noted, looking amused.